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bbokaricentral · 8 days ago

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caught in a web

Summary: han jisung can save the city from supervillains, but he can't save his gpa or his love life. after two years of pining, his crush finally asks him out—only for his spider-sense to cockblock him at the worst possible moment. now he's got metal maniacs destroying amusement parks, a secret identity hanging by a thread, and exactly one chance to prove he's boyfriend material without accidentally revealing he's the guy swinging around in spandex.

(amazing artist who make such fanart of han is here)

words: 12.k!

Tags: spiderman au, college au, han jisung x reader,fluff, pining, secret identity chaos, mild violence/action, near death experiences(really ass on my part guys) language, explosions, second-hand embarrassment, han is so peter parker coded here, jisung being a loser (love me some nerdsung) other idols used as ocs/side characters

notes: saw one nerd jisung fic and it altered my brain chemistry so here's 12k words of him being a disaster in costume. sorry for abandoning my hyunjin fic but spider-jisung demanded to be written 🕷️

—

The sound of shattering glass echoed through the downtown district as Han Jisung webbed up another piece of debris, his spider suit stretching as he dodged a particularly nasty swing from the villain's metallic arm. The bastard was stronger than he looked, and Jisung was already feeling the strain in his shoulders from the prolonged fight.

"Seriously, Sledgehammer? That's the best name you could come up with?" Jisung quipped, shooting a web at the man's feet and yanking hard, sending him tumbling into a conveniently placed dumpster with a satisfying crash. "What happened to creativity in crime these days? Did you guys stop trying after Doctor Octopus?"

"Weird how you're talking Spiderman!" the villain spits back

"Hey! My name is way better than fucking Sledgehammer!" Jisung said, putting on a show of faux offense.

The villain apparently actually called Sledgehammer, judging by the crude name spray-painted on his makeshift armor groaned from inside the dumpster. Jisung quickly webbed him up properly, layering the synthetic material thick enough that even enhanced strength wouldn't break through easily.

"NYPD? Yeah, it's your friendly neighborhood Spider-Man again. Got another gift-wrapped present for you on Fifth and Main." He ended the call and was about to swing away when he heard the news vans approaching, their sirens cutting through the evening air.

From his perch on a nearby building, Jisung watched as reporters swarmed the scene below like vultures on roadkill.

"This marks the third appearance this month of the mysterious vigilante the media has dubbed 'Spider-Man,'" the reporter announced to her camera crew, her voice carrying that practiced news anchor cadence.

"Police have yet to comment on whether this masked individual is friend or foe, but citizens seem grateful for his intervention in what could have been a devastating attack on the shopping district."

Jisung snorted. Friend or foe? He was literally gift-wrapping criminals for them like it was fucking Christmas morning.

His phone buzzed with a text from

felix: dude where the fuck are you? physics lab started 20 minutes ago and professor martinez is asking questions

"Shit," Jisung muttered, shooting a web toward campus. Being a superhero was seriously messing with his GPA, and if his parents found out he was failing classes, they'd kill him before any supervillain got the chance.

"You look like you got hit by a truck," Jay observed as Jisung stumbled into their shared apartment later that evening, his backpack falling off his shoulder with a loud thud that made their upstairs neighbor bang on the floor in complaint.

"Thanks, appreiate the honesty." Jisung groaned, collapsing face-first onto their ratty couch that they'd found on the street corner sophomore year. It smelled faintly of cigarettes and regret, but it was home.

Felix emerged from the kitchen with a bowl of ramen, taking one look at his roommate's disheveled state. "Let me guess 'food poisoning' again?"

The three of them had established this code early on. Jisung couldn't exactly say he'd been fighting crime, so food poisoning became their go-to excuse for his frequent disappearances and exhausted appearances. It was getting harder to sell, especially since Felix had started keeping track of how often Jisung allegedly got sick.

"The worst kind," Jisung mumbled into the couch cushions, tasting fabric softener and despair. "The kind that throws cars and has really bad fucking aim."

Jay raised an eyebrow, setting down his textbook. "Cars? Dude, you need to eat at better places. Maybe try somewhere that doesn't serve week-old sushi from a gas station."

When he'd first discovered his powers six months ago courtesy of a field trip gone wrong involving a very angry, very radioactive spider—he'd sworn Felix and Jay to secrecy. They'd been surprisingly cool about it, though they still made fun of his web-shooters.

"Speaking of eating," Felix said, settling into his chair with the kind of grin that meant he was about to suggest something Jisung would hate, "there's a party at Mizi's house tomorrow night. You should come."

Jisung's head shot up from the couch like he'd been electrocuted. "A party? Felix, you know I don't do parties. I do Netflix, crying over organic chemistry, and occasionally saving the city from megalomaniacs. Social interaction is not in my skill set."

"Come on," Jay joined in, and Jisung knew he was doomed because they were tag-teaming him. "You never do anything fun. When's the last time you talked to someone who wasn't us, your professors, or some asshole in a costume trying to blow up Manhattan?"

"I talk to people!"

"The librarian asking you to please stop falling asleep on your textbooks doesn't count," Felix deadpanned, slurping his ramen obnoxiously. "Neither does arguing with Professor Kim about the theoretical applications of quantum mechanics."

Jisung was about to argue when Jay delivered the killing blow: "Y/N will be there."

The effect was immediate. Jisung's complaints died in his throat, and he could feel his cheeks heating up like he was fourteen again and his mom was showing his friends his baby pictures. Y/N, possibly the most beautiful, intelligent, and completely out-of-his-league girl on campus. You shared exactly ond classes(Introduction to Psychology), where Jisung spent more time stealing glances at you than actually learning about Freud's weird obsession with his mother.

"That's not... I don't... why would that matter?" Jisung stammered, his voice cracking slightly.

Felix and Jay exchanged knowing looks, the kind that best friends develop after years of watching each other make fools of themselves over crushes.

"Oh, I don't know," Felix said innocently, but his eyes were sparkling with mischief. "Maybe because you've been pining after her since freshman year? Maybe because you literally walked into a glass door last week because you were staring at her ass?"

"That door was very clean," Jisung protested weakly. "And I wasn't staring at her ass. I was... observing. Scientifically."

"Scientifically my dick," Felix snorted. "You nearly gave yourself a concussion because you were too busy drooling to watch where you were going."

"Jisung," Jay said seriously, sitting down across from him with that look that meant he was about to dispense wisdom whether Jisung wanted it or not. "You're smart, you're funny when you're not overthinking everything to death, and despite what you think, you're not completely hopeless with people. But you're never going to get anywhere if you don't actually try."

"Besides," Felix added with a grin that was absolutely diabolical, "what's the worst that could happen? You embarrass yourself, she rejects you, and you spend the rest of college hiding in the library like some kind of academic hermit? Oh wait, you're aleready doing that."

Jisung could think of about a million things that could go wrong, starting with making a complete fool of himself and ending with his spider-sense going off mid-conversation and having to awkwardly exit while you thought he was just weird. But looking at his friends' expectant faces, he found himself nodding.

"Okay. Okay, fine. But if this goes horribly wrong, I'm blaming both of you fuckers and never speaking to you again."

"Deal," Felix said immediately, looking far too pleased with himself.

The party was already in full swing by the time they arrived, music thumping loud enough that Jisung could feel it in his chest like a second heartbeat. He tugged at the hem of the button-down Felix had forced him into, feeling overdressed and underprepared for the social battlefield ahead.

"I can't do this," he said for the fifteenth time as they walked up to the house, which was practically vibrating with bass and poor life choices.

"Yes, you fucking can," Jay said firmly, grabbing Jisung by the shoulders and forcing him to make eye contact. "We've been over this. You're going to go in there, find Y/N, and have a normal conversation. No rambling about quantum physics, no fun facts about spider mating rituals, and definitely no mention of that documentary you watched about arachnid silk production."

"But the documentary was really interesting—"

"No."

"The tensile strength of spider silk is actually—"

"Jisung, I swear to God, if you start talking about spider facts at this party, I will personally web you to the ceiling," Felix threatened, then paused. "Wait, can you actually do that to yourself?"

"Theoretically, yes, but the angle would be awkward and—"

"NERD," both his friends said in unison.

The house was packed with people Jisung recognized but had never actually spoken to. He'd always been more of a background character in the college social scene—the guy you might partner with for a difficult assignment but wouldn't think to invite to things. The guy who knew everyone's name but whose name no one could quite remember.

They'd been there for maybe twenty minutes, Jisung nursing the same beer and trying to work up the courage to approach you (you looked absolutely stunning in a simple black dress that made his brain short-circuit), when you suddenly appeared beside him like some kind of beautiful, terrifying angel.

"Han Jisung, right?" you said, and your voice was just as sweet as he'd imagined during his many, many daydreams. "We're in Professor Kim's psych class together."

Jisung's brain short-circuited, sparked, and possibly caught fire. You knew his name. You knew his actual name, not just "that guy who sits in the back and occasionally says smart things."

"I, uh, yes. That's me. Han Jisung. Who is me. I am Han Jisung." He wanted to disappear into the floor and never resurface. Maybe he could web himself to the basement and live there permanently.

But instead of looking annoyed or weirded out, you laughed—a genuine, bright sound that made Jisung's chest feel warm and his spider-sense tingle in a completely different way than usual.

"I really liked your comment in class last week about cognitive dissonance in social media," you continued, taking a sip of whatever fruity drink was in your red solo cup. "It was really insightful. Most people just regurgitate whatever they read online, but you actually thought about it."

"You... you were listening?" Jisung asked, surprised. Half the class usually looked dead inside during Kim's lectures.

"Of course I was listening. You always have interesting things to say." You smiled at him, and Jisung felt like he might actually float away, spider-powers or no spider-powers. "Though you always look terrified when Professor Kim calls on you."

"That's because Professor Kim is scary," Jisung said without thinking, then immediately regretted it. "I mean, not scary, just... intimidating. In a good way. A respectable way. She could probably kill me with her mind."

You laughed again, stepping a little closer, and Jisung caught a whiff of your perfume, something light and floral that made him a little dizzy. "You're cute when you're nervous."

Jisung was pretty sure his face was now approximately the color of a tomato. "I'm not nervous. This is just my face. My face is just... red. Naturally. I have a condition."

"Your face is very red for someone who's not nervous," you teased, and were you flirting with him? This felt like flirting. Jisung had no idea how to handle flirting.

They talked for what felt like hours but was probably only twenty minutes. You asked about his major (computer science with a minor in biochemistry), his hobbies (he very carefully avoided mentioning web-slinging and fighting crime), and his thoughts on their upcoming psych exam.

"I have to admit," you said, leaning against the wall beside him, close enough that he could count your eyelashes if he wanted to, "I was hoping I'd run into you tonight."

Jisung's brain stuttered like a broken record. "You were?"

"Mhmm." You were standing close enough that he could see the little flecks of gold in your eyes. "I've been wanting to talk to you for a while, but you always seem to disappear after class. Like you're late for something important."

Because I'm usually running off to fight crime, Jisung thought, but obviously couldn't say that. "I just... I'm not great with crowds. People make me nervous."

"I noticed," you said softly, your voice barely audible over the music. "It's refreshing, actually. Most guys I know are so..." You gestured vaguely around the party at a group of frat boys doing something that probably violated several laws of physics and common sense. "Loud. Obnoxious. You're different."

You were looking at him in a way that made Jisung's heart race for reasons that had nothing to do with impending danger. Your eyes kept flickering down to his lips, and you were definitely leaning closer, and oh god was this actually happening—

His spider-sense exploded.

The familiar tingling sensation hit him like a freight train, so intense he actually winced and grabbed the wall for support. Somewhere in the city, something very bad was happening, and it was big enough that his senses were screaming at him from miles away.

"I..." Jisung looked at you, who were now definitely leaning in for a kiss, your eyes fluttering closed, lips slightly parted, and he wanted to die. "I have to go."

Your eyes snapped open, confusion and hurt flickering across your face. "What?"

"I'm sorry, I just... I think I'm going to be sick. Food poisoning. Very sudden. Rain check?" He was already backing away, cursing his life and his spider-powers and the cosmic forces that seemed determined to ruin any chance he had at happiness.

You looked confused and a little hurt, your arms wrapping around yourself defensively. "Oh. Okay. Feel better, I guess?"

Jisung practically ran through the house, dodging drunk college students and feeling like the world's biggest asshole. He texted Felix and Jay that he was leaving, then ducked into an alley three blocks from the party and changed into his suit, stashing his clothes in a web sac attached to a fire escape.

"This better be worth it," he muttered, swinging toward whatever disaster was waiting for him.

Downtown was chaos.

The villain, who Jisung mentally dubbed "Acid Bath" based on the green, corrosive substance dripping from his hands and eating through everything it touched, was melting through the city like a walking chemistry experiment gone wrong. Cars, street lamps, even the asphalt beneath his feet dissolved like sugar in water, leaving behind a trail of destruction that looked like something out of a horror movie.

"Great," Jisung muttered, perching on a building to assess the situation. The air smelled like burning metal and sulfur, and he could see civilians running in all directions, screaming as they tried to avoid the acid trails. "It's like fighting a walking fucking nightmare."

Acid Bath seemed to be heading toward the financial district, leaving a path of melted destruction in his wake. Whatever his plan was, Jisung needed to stop him before he reached any buildings full of people.

"Hey, Slimer!" Jisung called out, swinging down to street level with practiced ease. "Halloween was last month! Also, your costume is shit!"

The villain turned, his face a grotesque mess of bubbling green scars that looked like they hurt just to exist. When he spoke, his voice was distorted and wet, like he was talking through a mouthful of poison.

"Spider-Man," he hissed, acid dripping from his lips onto the ground with a sizzling sound. "Perfect. I was hoping you'd show up so I could melt that smart mouth right off your face."

"Really? I'm flattered. Most people don't want me to show up to their crime sprees. Usually they're all 'oh no, Spider-Man' and 'please don't web me to a lamppost' and 'I have rights.' Very ungrateful, if you ask me."

Acid Bath lunged forward, his hands outstretched and dripping with that horrifying green substance. Jisung dodged, his enhanced reflexes kicking in, but not before some of the acid splashed onto a nearby car. The metal hissed and bubbled, eating through the door like it was made of paper.

"Okay, that's definitely not covered by insurance," Jisung said, keeping mobile and trying to stay out of range. This was going to be tricky. He couldn't get close enough for physical combat, and his webs wouldn't hold if this asshole could just melt through them.

"So what's your deal?" Jisung asked, staying mobile and trying to keep the villain's attention while he figured out a strategy. "Bad breakup? Failed chemistry exam? Fell into a vat of chemicals because you didn't read the safety manual? Please tell me it's not another 'my dad didn't hug me enough' situation."

"You think this is a joke?" Acid Bath snarled, hurling a glob of acid that Jisung barely avoided. It hit a street lamp behind him, and the metal post crumbled like a stale cookie. "I was a respected scientist until Oscorp destroyed my life! They stole my research, fired me, and blacklisted me from every lab in the city! They all deserve to–"

"Ah, the classic 'evil corporation ruined my life so now I'm going to take it out on innocent people' routine. Very original. Really breaking new ground here."

The fight continued for what felt like hours. Jisung managed to web up some street barriers to contain the villain's movement, but Acid Bath just melted through them like they were made of tissue paper. Every time Jisung tried to get close, another splash of acid would force him back, and the smell was starting to make him lightheaded.

The real problem was the collateral damage. Every missed shot from Acid Bath was destroying property and endangering civilians. Jisung had to keep his attention focused while also herding panicked people away from the danger zone, and it was fucking exhausting.

"You know what your problem is?" Jisung called out, dodging another acid blast that took out a fire hydrant. "You've got no range control. You're like a storm trooper with a chemistry set."

"I'll show you range!" Acid Bath roared, and this time he didn't throw acid—he breathed it out in a wide spray that covered half the street.

Jisung barely managed to swing out of the way. The acid cloud was huge and he could feel droplets hitting his suit, small holes appearing in the fabric. This wasn't sustainable. He needed a new approach.

It wasn't until Jisung noticed a fire hydrant that he got an idea.

"You know what they say about acid," Jisung said, shooting a web at the hydrant and yanking hard. "It doesn't play well with water!"

The hydrant exploded in a geyser of pressurized water, sending a powerful stream directly at the villain. Acid Bath screamed as the water hit him, the acid on his body diluting and neutralizing. Steam rose from his skin as the chemical reaction worked in reverse, and within minutes, he was just a regular guy in a ruined lab coat, unconscious and no longer dangerous.

"And that," Jisung said, webbing the unconscious villain to a convenient lamppost, "is why you should have paid attention in basic chemistry. Water beats acid, rock beats scissors, and Spider-Man beats crazy scientists with poor safety protocols."

He called the police and was about to swing away when he noticed the significant damage to his suit. The acid had eaten through parts of the fabric, and he was pretty sure he had some minor burns on his arms that were going to sting like hell tomorrow.

By the time he made it back to the apartment, it was nearly 3 AM. Felix and Jay were waiting up for him, concern written all over their faces and empty energy drink cans scattered across the coffee table.

"Rough night?" Felix asked, noting Jisung's visible exhaustion and the holes in his suit.

"The roughest," Jisung groaned, collapsing onto the couch and immediately regretting it as the burns on his arms made contact with the fabric. "And I totally blew it with Y/N."

"What happened?" Jay asked, setting down his textbook and giving Jisung his full attention.

Jisung explained the whole situation—well, the part about having to leave suddenly. He left out the details about fighting a walking acid factory and nearly getting dissolved.

"Dude," Felix said sympathetically, running a hand through his hair, "that fucking sucks. But maybe you can explain tomorrow? Tell her you felt better?"

"I don't know," Jisung sighed, staring at the ceiling and trying not to think about the look on your face when he'd basically run away from you. "She probably thinks I'm a complete weirdo now. Who does that? Who runs away from someone who's about to kiss them?"

"Someone with really bad timing and a hero complex," Jay said dryly. "But seriously, man, just talk to her. Explain that you weren't feeling well. People get siick, it happens."

"Yeah, but not conveniently right before the most important moment of my entire romantic life," Jisung said miserably.

But the next day, you surprised him.

Jisung was sitting in his usual spot in the back of their psychology class, trying to stay awake despite having gotten maybe three hours of sleep and downing enough caffeine to kill a horse. Professor Kim was droning on about classical conditioning, and Jisung was seriously considering whether it would be less embarrassing to fall asleep in class or to actually die of exhaustion, when you slid into the seat next to him.

"Feeling better?" you asked, and there was genuine concern in your voice rather than annoyance, which was more than Jisung deserved.

"Much better, thank you," Jisung said, straightening up and trying to look like he hadn't spent the night fighting crime and questioning his life choices. "I'm really sorry about last night. I know the timing was... weird."

"It's okay," you said with a smile that made Jisung's heart do something complicated in his chest. "These things happen. Though I have to ask—what kind of food poisoning hits that suddenly? One second we were talking, and the next you looked like you'd seen a ghost."

Jisung's mind raced. "Uh... bad sushi? You know how it is with raw fish. Very unpredictable. Could have been sitting out too long, wrong temperature, contaminated with... fish... bacteria?"

You nodded, though you looked a little skeptical. "Right. Sushi. From where?"

"That place on... Fifth Street. You probably don't know it. Very small. Family-owned. They're... not great with food safety." Jisung was digging himself into a hole, but he couldn't stop talking. "I should have known better, really. The rice looked suspicious."

"Suspicious rice," you repeated, and there was definitely amusement in your voice now.

"Very suspicious. Almost... malevolent."

Before Jisung could make an even bigger fool of himself, Professor Kim started class, saving him from having to explain the theoretical malevolence of sushi rice.

Halfway through the lecture on Pavlov's experiments, you passed him a note: Want to study together after class? I promise no sushi.

Jisung's heart did a little flip. He wrote back: Are you sure? I'm a pretty boring study partner.

Your response made him smile: I doubt that. You made Pavlov's experiments sound interesting last week, and that's basically impossible.

After class, you found a quiet corner in the library, away from the usual chaos of college students pretending to study while actually scrolling through social media. You had brought color-coded notes and highlighters, while Jisung had a single notebook that looked like it had been through a war zone.

"Okay," you said, spreading your materials out on the table with the efficiency of someone who actually had their shit together, "I'm thinking we start with the chapters on learning theory and work our way through to cognitive development?"

"Sounds good," Jisung agreed, trying not to stare at how organized your notes were. Everything was neat and categorized, with little diagrams and highlighted key points, while his looked like he'd taken them during an earthquake while riding a mechanical bull.

They'd been studying for about an hour, and Jisung was actually starting to relax, when you asked, "So what got you interested in psychology? It's not exactly the most obvious choice for a computer science major."

Jisung considered his answer carefully. He couldn't exactly say that understanding human behavior had become crucial for his superhero work—knowing how people reacted in crisis situations, understanding what motivated criminals, figuring out how to calm down panicked civilians. That would raise questions he wasn't ready to answer.

"I guess I've always been interested in how people think," he said finally, twirling his pen between his fingers. "Like, why do people make the choices they do? What drives someone to help others, or to hurt them? What makes someone risk their life for strangers, or throw their life away for revenge? It's all just... fascinating to me."

You nodded thoughtfully, resting your chin on your hand. "That's really cool. Most people I know just take it for the easy credit."

"Is that why you're taking it?" Jisung asked.

"Partially," you admitted with a laugh. "But also because I'm thinking about switching my major. I'm in business right now, but it doesn't feel... meaningful, you know? I want to do something that actually helps people."

Jisung looked at you with new respect. Here you were, beautiful and popular and probably capable of doing anything you wanted, and you were thinking about giving up a potentially lucrative career to help people.

"What are you thinking of switching to?"

"Maybe social work? Or counseling psychology? I haven't decided yet." You tucked a strand of hair behind your ear, looking a little embarrassed. "I know it sounds naive, but I want to make a difference. I want to help people who are struggling, who don't have anyone else in their corner."

"It doesn't sound naive at all," Jisung said earnestly, leaning forward. "I think that's really admirable. The world needs more people who actually give a shit about others."

You smiled at him, and it was different from your other smiles—softer, more genuine. "You're really sweet, you know that?"

They continued studying, but the conversation had shifted to more personal topics. You told him about growing up in a small town, about your parents' expectations for your business degree, about your fears of disappointing people.

In return, Jisung found himself opening up more than he had with anyone except Felix and Jay, talking about the pressure of his pre-med parents who couldn't understand why he'd swithed to computer science, about feeling like he was always letting people down.

"You know," you said as you were packing up your books, "I had kind of a crush on you freshman year."

Jisung nearly dropped his notebook. "You what?"

"You probably don't remember, but we had Biology 101 together. You sat two rows in front of me, and you always asked the most thoughtful questions. I kept hoping you'd notice me, but you seemed so focused on your studies."

"I..." Jisung's brain was having trouble processing this information. "I had no idea. I thought you were way out of my league."

"Out of your league?" You laughed, and it was that bright, genuine sound that made his chest warm. "Jisung, you're brilliant, you're sweet, and you're incredibly cute when you get excited about something. How could you be out of anyone's league?"

Before Jisung could respond, your friends appeared at the table like they'd materialized from thin air. He recognized them—Rei and Lara, both part of the popular crowd that usually wouldn't give him a second glance.

"There you are!" Rei exclaimed, slightly out of breath like she'd been running around the library. "We've been looking everywhere for you."

"Hey guys," you said, but there was a slight edge to your voice, like you weren't entirely pleased by the interruption. "This is Jisung. Jisung, meet Rei and Lara."

"Hi," Jisung said awkwardly, giving them a small wave and immediately feeling like an idiot for waving.

Lara looked between you and Jisung with a knowing smile that made Jisung's stomach twist with anxiety. "Oh, so this is the guy you've been talking about."

Your cheeks turned pink. "Lara!"

"What? I'm just saying, you've mentioned him like five times this week." Lara turned to Jisung with a grin that was either friendly or predatory, he couldn't tell. "She thinks you're very smart."

Jisung felt his own face heating up. "I... thank you?"

Reigiggled. "You're adorable. Y/N, you should totally ask him to—"

"Okay!" you interrupted, standing up quickly and shooting your friends a look that could kill. "I think that's enough embarrassment for one day. Jisung, I should let you get going."

"Right," Jisung said, gathering his things and trying to ignore the knowing looks your friends were exchanging.

"Thanks for studying with me. Same time tomorrow?"

"Definitely," you said with a smile.

As Jisung walked away, he could hear your friends immediately start talking in excited whispers. He couldn't make out the words, but their tone was encouraging, which he chose to take as a good sign.

The next day after class, Jisung was at his locker, trying to organize the disaster that was his backpack, when you appeared beside him looking determined but nervous.

"Hey," you said, fidgeting with your phone case. "So I was wondering... are you free Saturday evening? Around seven?"

Jisung's heart started racing like he'd just web-swung across the city. "Saturday? Yeah, I think so. Why?"

"There's this new roller coaster at Luna Park—The Cyclone's Revenge. I've been dying to try it, but none of my friends are into extreme rides." You bit your lip, and Jisung was momentarily distracted by the gesture.

"Would you want to go with me? Like... as a date?"

Jisung was pretty sure his heart had stopped beating. You were asking him out. You, the girl he'd been pining after for two years, were asking him on a date.

"Yes," he said immediately, not trusting himself to form more complex sentences without fucking it up. "Yes, I would love that. Seven pm. Saturday. Roller coasters. Yes."

Your face lit up with a brilliant smile that made Jisung feel like he could probably fly without the web-shooters. "Really? Great! I'll text you the details."

"Perfect," Jisung managed, though he was pretty sure he was grinning like an idiot.

After you left, Jisung stood at his locker for a full minute, trying to process what had just happened.

He had a date.

With you.

An actual date.

He was so caught up in his excitement that he didn't notice his spider-sense giving him a very faint warning tingle.

—

Meanwhile, across campus, you were having your own crisis in your dorm room with Lara sprawled across your bed, critiquing your outfit choices with the dedication of a fashion editor.

"No, absolutely not," Lara said, pointing dramatically at the conservative blouse you were holding up. "You look like you're going to a job interview at a bank. This is supposed to be fun, Y/N. Fun and flirty and 'please kiss me on the Ferris wheel.'"

you tossed the blouse aside with a sigh. " I don't want to look like I'm trying too hard."

"Babes, you've been talking about this boy for weeks. You're already trying hard. The question is whether you want to look cute while doing it." Lara sat up, fixing you with a serious look. "When's the last time you went on a real date? Not some group hang or study session disguised as romantic interest. An actual, honest-to-god date."

You paused, considering. "Um... sophomore year? That guy from my economics class?"

"Soobin from Econ who spent the entire dinner talking about cryptocurrency and his dad's boat?" Lara's expression was horrified. "That wasn't a date, that was a humanitarian crisis. You deserve better than Soobin from Econ."

"Jisung is definitely better than Soobin from Econ," you agreed, pulling out a a cream or off-white knitted sweater dress with an off-shoulder design that has black ribbon ties at the neckline, with a cute flared skirt at the bottom.t hit just above your knees. "What about this one?"

Lara tilted her head, considering. "Better. The color is perfect, and it's casual enough for an amusement park but still cute enough to show you made an effort. But..." She rummaged through your closet pulling out your long boots before grabbing some longass creme socks in your accessories drawer. "Add this. Trust me."

You tried on the combination, turning to look at yourself in the mirror. The outfit was perfect—comfortable enough for walking around an amusement park all evening, but flattering and feminine. You looked like yourself, just... elevated.

"Okay, but what if he doesn't show up?" you asked, voicing the fear that had been nagging at you since you'd asked him out. "What if he gets that mysterious food poisoning again?"

"Then he's an idiot and call me and Rei and we will all go together, even if we don’t really like roller coasters" Lara said firmly. "But he's not going to bail. Did you see his face when you asked him out? The boy looked like he'd won the lottery."

"He did look pretty happy," you admitted, unable to suppress your smile at the memory.

"Happy? Y/N, I thought he was going to combust on the spot. His face went so red I was genuinely concerned about his blood pressure." Lara grinned, flopping back down on your bed. "Trust me, he'll be there. Probably early, knowing him."

You spent the next hour getting ready, with Lara providing commentary on everything from your hair, to your makeup. By the time you were finished, you felt confident and excited rather than nervous.

"You look gorgeous," Lara said sincerely, giving you a quick hug. "And more importantly, you look happy. When you talk about Jisung, you get this little smile that you don't get with anyone else."

"Really?" you asked, checking your reflection one more time.

"Really. It's like... you light up. It's disgusting how cute it is." Lara grabbed her keys from your desk. "Come on, I'll drive you to the subway. Can't you get sweaty before your big date."

As you gathered your purse and checked that you had everything, Lara continued her pep talk. "Remember, just be yourself. He already likes you—the real you, not some perfect version. And if conversation gets awkward, just ask him about school or his hobbies or whatever nerdy thing he's passionate about. Boys love talking about themselves."

"What if I say something stupid?"

"Then you say something stupid. Everyone says stupid things on dates. It's like a rite of passage." Lara opened the door, gesturing for you to follow. "Besides, something tells me Jisung won't mind. He seems like the type who finds rambling endearing."

—

Saturday evening found Jisung in their apartment bathroom, staring at his reflection while Felix and Jay argued over his outfit choices like he was their personal Ken doll.

"The blue sweater makes him look approachable," Felix was saying, holding up a soft blue pullover. "Like, 'hi, I'm a nice guy who won't murder you on the first date.'"

"The button-down makes him look more mature," Jay countered, waving a white Oxford shirt. "This is a date, not a fucking study session. He needs to look like he has his shit together."

"I can hear you both, you know," Jisung called from the bathroom, where he was having a minor breakdown about his hair. No matter what he did, it looked like he'd stuck his finger in an electrical socket. "And I'm perfectly capable of dressing myself."

"Evidence suggests otherwise," Felix called back. "Remember what you wore to orientation?"

"That shirt was fine!"

"It had a periodic table on it, Jisung. And not in a cool, vintage way. In a 'please wedgie me' way."

Jisung emerged from the bathroom to find his entire wardrobe spread across Jay's bed, organized by color and style. His friends took fashion very seriously, probably more seriously than he took saving the city.

"Okay," Jay said, looking him up and down critically like he was judging a fashion show. "Dark jeans—good choice. Now we just need to decide on the tpop."

After much debate and several threats of violence, they settled on the blue sweater with a dark jacket. Jisung had to admit he looked pretty good—casual but put-together, approachable but not sloppy.

"Remember," Felix said as Jisung was getting ready to leave, "be yourself. She already likes you, so just relax and have fun."

"And please," Jay added, "try not to info-dump about spider facts or whatever. Save that for the third date."

"I don't info-dump," Jisung protested.

Both his friends gave him a look.

"Fine, I'll try to keep the science talk to a minimum," he conceded.

"And if your 'food poisoning' acts up," Felix said with air quotes, "try to give her some warning this time instead of just running away like the building's on fire."

"I'll do my best," Jisung said, though they all knew that if his spider-sense went off, he'd have no choice but to bail.

Jisung left the apartment at 6:20, planning to arrive fashionably early. Luna Park was only a twenty-minute subway ride away, which would put him there right around 6:45—early enough to show he was eager, not so early that he looked desperate.

At least, that was the plan.

He was walking toward the subway station, mentally rehearsing conversation topics and trying not to think about all the ways this could go wrong, when his spider-sense went off like a fire alarm.

"No," he said out loud, stopping dead in the middle of the sidewalk while pedestrians flowed around him like water around a rock. "No, no, no. Not tonight. Any night but tonight."

But his senses were screaming at him, that familiar tingling sensation so intense it was almost painful. Whatever was happening, it was big, and it was close, and people were going to die if he didn't act.

Jisung pulled out his phone, his thumb hovering over your contact. How could he explain this? How could he tell you that he had to bail on the most important date of his life because his superhero responsibilities were calling?

In the distance, he could hear sirens and screaming. The choice was made for him.

He ducked into an alley, quickly changing into his suit and stashing his date clothes in a web sac. As he swung toward the chaos, he sent you a text: Emergency came up, running late. DON'T LEAVE. I'll be there as soon as I can. I'm so sorry.

Luna Park was in complete chaos when Jisung arrived.

What had started as a normal Saturday evening at the amusement park had turned into a nightmare scenario. The villain, who looked like a cross between a medieval knight and a construction vehicle, was systematically destroying rides and terroriziing families. His armor was covered in spinning blades and hydraulic pistons, and every step he took left cracks in the concrete.

"Great," Jisung muttered, surveying the scene from a nearby building. "It's like if a transformer had a baby with a blender and raised it on steroids."

The villain, who Jisung immediately dubbed "Shredder" (because creativity was not his strong suit under pressure), was currently taking apart the Tilt-a-Whirl like it was made of tinker toys. Families were screaming and running in all directions, parents scooping up children and pushing through the panicked crowds toward the exits.

But what made Jisung's blood run cold was the sight of people trapped on various rides that had been damaged in the attack. The Ferris wheel had stopped moving with several cars stuck at the top, swaying dangerously in the evening wind. The roller coaster—the same one he was supposed to be riding with you, had derailed partway through its circuit, leaving passengers stranded on a twisted section of track thirty feet in the air.

"Attention, insects!" Shredder bellowed, his voice amplified by some kind of speaker system built into his armor. "You have thirty minutes to evacuate this pathetic excuse for entertainment before I reduce it to scrap metal! Anyone who remains will be processed along with the machinery!"

"Processed?" Jisung swung down to get a better look at the situation. "Who talks like that? What is this, a fucking factory?"

The first priority was getting the trapped civilians to safety. Jisung webbed his way up to the roller coaster, where a family of four was clinging to their safety harnesses in a car that was tilted at a dangerous angle.

"Hey there," Jisung said, trying to sound calm and reassuring despite the chaos around them. "Everyone okay up here?"

"Spider-Man!" the father gasped, relief flooding his voice. "Thank god. We can't get out, the safety system won't release."

"No problem. I'm going to get you down one at a time, okay? Just stay calm and hold tight."

Jisung worked quickly, using his webs to create a stable anchor point and then lowering each family member to safety. The mother was crying by the time her feet hit solid ground, clutching her children and thanking him over and over.

"Get to the exits," Jisung told them. "Stay away from the big scary robot, and you'll be fine."

He repeated this process for the other trapped passengers, his enhanced strength and agility allowing him to move quickly between the twisted sections of track. But every second he spent on rescue operatons was another second for Shredder to cause more destruction.

By the time he'd cleared the roller coaster, the villain had moved on to the Ferris wheel. Jisung watched in horror as one of the mechanical arms extending from Shredder's armor began sawing through the support structure, causing the entire wheel to groan and sway.

"Oh, come on!" Jisung yelled, swinging toward the Ferris wheel as fast as he could. "Do you have any idea how much therapy these people are going to need?"

That's when he saw you.

You were in one of the cars near the bottom of the Ferris wheel, trapped with what looked like a mechanical malfunction keeping the safety bar locked in place. Unlike the other passengers who were screaming or crying, you were trying to work the release mechanism yourself, your face set in determined concentration.

Jisung's heart stopped. You were supposed to be at the entrance, waiting for him. You weren't supposed to be in danger. This was exactly the kind of situation he'd been trying to avoid by keeping his identity secret, the people he cared about getting hurt because of his superhero life.

"Hey, Tin Man!" Jisung called out, landing on the Ferris wheel's framework with a metallic clang. "Yeah, you with the obvious compensation issues! Leave the civilians alone and fight someone your own size!"

Shredder turned, his glowing red eyes focusing on Jisung with what seemed like amusement. "Spider-Man. I was hoping you'd show up. Destroying you will be much more satisfying than dismantling these primitive entertainment devices."

"Primiitive? Dude, do you know how much engineering goes into a Ferris wheel? The load calculations alone are incredibly complex. But I guess you wouldn't understand that, being more of a 'smash things with giant metal fists' kind of guy."

Shredder lunged forward, faster than something that size should have been able to move. Jisung barely dodged the swipe from a rotating blade that would have taken his head off, the metal scraping against the Ferris wheel's support beam and sending sparks flying.

"You talk too much, web-slinger!" Shredder snarled, his mechanical arms extending like deadly tentacles. "Let me help you with that problem!"

The fight that followed was unlike anything Jisung had experienced. Shredder wasn't just strong,he was a walking arsenal. Blades extended from his arms, his back, even his legs. Hydraulic pistons gave him incredible striking power, and his armor seemed to absorb the impact from Jisung's punches like they were love taps.

Every time Jisung tried to web him up, the spinning blades cut through the synthetic material like it was tissue paper. When he tried to get close for hand-to-hand combat, the mechanical arms would lash out, forcing him to stay mobile and defensive.

The real problem was the collaeral damage. Every missed attack from Shredder was damaging the Ferris wheel's structure further, causing the cars to swing more violently. Jisung could hear the metal groaning under the stress, and he knew it was only a matter of time before the whole structure came down.

"You know what your problem is?" Jisung called out, dodging a particularly vicious combination attack that left gouges in the concrete where he'd been standing. "You're like a Swiss Army knife that only knows how to cut things. Very one-dimensional. Have you considered therapy?"

"I'll show you one-dimensional!" Shredder roared, and this time instead of attacking Jisung directly, he turned his attention to the Ferris wheel's main support column.

"No, no, no!" Jisung shot a web line and swung directly at Shredder, hitting him with a full-body tackle that would have flattened a normal person. Instead, it felt like hitting a brick wall, and Jisung bounced off, winded.

But it was enough to interrupt Shredder's attack on the support structure. The villain turned his attention back to Jisung, apparently deciding that the satisfaction of destroying Spider-Man was worth more than bringing down the Ferris wheel.

"You want to play hero?" Shredder advanced on Jisung, his blades spinning faster now, creating a sound like a dozen chainsaws. "Let's see how heroiic you feel when I turn you into spider paste!"

The attacks came faster now, a whirlwind of metal and hydraulics that forced Jisung to use every ounce of his enhanced reflexes. He couldn't go on the offensive—all of his energy was focused on staying alive and keeping Shredder's attention away from the civilians.

It was during one particularly close call, when a spinning blade passed close enough to his face that he could feel the wind from it, that Jisung noticed something. The hydraulic lines powering Shredder's mechanical arms were exposed at the joints, protected only by flexible rubber coverings.

"You know," Jisung said, shooting a web to swing out of range of another attack, "for all your fancy engineering, you've got a pretty obvious design flaw."

"What are you talking about, inspect?"

Instead of answering, Jisung shot a precise web line at one of the hydraulic joints, yanking hard. The rubber covering tore away, and hydraulic fluid began spraying out under pressure. One of Shredder's mechanical arms immediately lost power, going limp.

"Hydraulics 101," Jisung said, targeting another joint. "Great power, but vulnerable to pressure loss. Maybe next time invest in better protective covering?"

Shredder roared in fury as more of his mechanical arms lost power, but he wasn't done yet. The blades built into his main armor were still functioning, and he launched himself at Jisung with berserker rage.

This time, Jisung was ready. He used Shredder's momentum against him, webbing his feet and causing him to trip forward. As the villain stumbled, Jisung webbed up his remaining functional weapons, layer after layer of synthetic material until the spinning blades were clogged and useless.

"And that," Jisung said, delivering a punch that finally seemed to have some effect on the now-powerless villain, "is why you should never put all your eggs in one mechanical basket."

Shredder collapsed, his armor powered down and his weapons neutralized. Jisung webbed him securely to a nearby lamppost, then immediately turned his attention to the Ferris wheel.

The structure was badly damaged but still standing. Most of the cars had been evacuated during the fight, but you were still trapped in yours, still working at the release mechanism with admirable determination.

Jisung swung up to your car, trying to keep his voice steady and professional despite his racing heart. "Ma'am, I'm going to get you out of there, okay?"

You looked up at him, and for a moment, Jisung thought you were going to recognize him. There was something in your eyes, a flicker of familiarity that made his stomach drop. But then you smiled—that same bright, genuine smile that had made him fall for you in the first place.

"Thank you," you said, and your voice was steady despite everything you'd just been through. "The safety release is jammed. I think something got bent when that metal guy was attacking the wheel."

"No problem. Let me take a look."

Jisung examined the mechanism, trying to ignore how close he was to you, how he could smell your perfume even through his mask. The release was indeed jammed, twisted metal preventing the safety bar from lifting.

"I'm going to have to break this," he said. "It might be a little jarring, but I'll get you out."

"Do what you need to do," you said, then added with a small laugh, "I've had enough amusement park rides for one evening."

Jisung carefully applied pressure to the twisted metal, his enhanced strength allowing him to bend it back into shape without damaging the car further. The safety bar popped open with a satisfying click.

"There we go," he said, offering you his hand to help you out of the car. "You're free."

But as you took his hand, something unexpected happened. Instead of just helping you up, you pulled yourself closer, studying his face—or what you could see of it behind the mask.

"Your voice," you said quietly, your eyes searching his. "It sounds... familiar."

Jisung's heart stopped. This was it. This was the moment his carefully constructed double life came crashing down. He should deny it, make some joke about having a common voice, swing away before you could figure it out.

Instead, he found himself frozen, looking into your eyes and seeing recognition dawning there.

"Jisung?" you whispered, so quietly he almost didn't hear it over the sound of sirens and distant shouting. "Is that... is that you?"

For a moment, the world seemed to stop. All the chaos around them, the damaged amusement park, the approaching police sirens, the crowds of people, aded into background noise. It was just the two of them, suspended in a car on a damaged Ferris wheel, with the biggest secret of his life hanging in the air between them.

Jisung opened his mouth to answer, to either confirm or deny, to figure out what the hell he was supposed to say in this situation. But before he could speak, his spider-sense went off again.

Not the overwhelming alarm that had brought him here in the first place, but a sharp, focused warning that made him spin around to scan their surroundings. Something was wrong. Something was—

"LOOK OUT!"

The shout came from somewhere below them. Jisung looked down to see that Shredder, who should have been unconscious and securely webbed to a lamppost, was somehow back on his feet. The villain had activated some kind of emergency power system, and his armor was sparking with electrical energy.

"You think you’ve won spiderman?!?" Shredder bellowed, raising his arms toward the Ferris wheel. "If i can’t get my revenge! NO ONE gets to leave”

The mechanical arms that Jisung had disabled were powering back up, but not for precision attacks this time. Instead, they were glowing with some kind of energy buildup, like Shredder was preparing to overload his entire system.

"He's going to self-destruct," Jisung realized with horror. "He's going to take out the whole Ferris wheel."

You were still looking at him with that expression of dawning recognition, but now there was also fear in your eyes as you realized what was happening. "Jisung, what—"

"Hold on," Jisung said, not bothering to deny his identity anymore. There would be time for explanations later—if they survived the next few minutes. "Hold on tight."

He wrapped one arm around your waist and shot a web line with the other, swinging both of you out of the Ferris wheel car just as Shredder's armor reached critical overload.

The explosion was massive, a bloom of fire and electricity that lit up the evening sky. The shockwave hit them in mid-swing, and Jisung had to adjust his trajectory to avoid the flying debris. He landed hard on a section of undamaged ground, rolling to absorb the impact and shielding you with his body as pieces of metal rained down around them.

When the dust settled, the Ferris wheel was gone. Just... gone. Where it had stood moments before was now a twisted pile of metal and smoking debris. If they had been in that car for even a few more seconds...

"Holy shit," you breathed, staring at the destruction. "We could have been killed."

"Are you hurt?" Jisung asked, checking you over for injuries despite the fact that he was probably in worse shape than you were. The explosion had singed parts of his suit, and he was pretty sure he had some new cuts and bruises to add to his collection.

"I'm okay," you said, but your voice was shaky. "Thanks to you."

They sat there for a moment in the midst of the chaos, both trying to process what had just happened. Around them, police and paramedics were arriving on the scene, helping evacuate the remaining civilians and dealing with the aftermath of the attack.

"I should go," Jisung said, starting to stand up. "The police will want to ask questions, and I need to"

"Wait." You grabbed his arm, stopping him. "Jisung, please. Don't run away from me again."

He looked down at you, seeing the hurt in your eyes from the party, from all the times he'd had to leave suddenly, from the lies and half-truths and missed opportunities. You deserved better than that. You deserved the truth.

"Meet me tomorrow night," he said impulsively. "The alley behind the science building. Ten PM. I'll explain everything."

"Everything?"

"Everything I can," he promised. "Everything you want to know."

You nodded, and there was something in your expression that gave him hope. Not just understanding, but acceptance. Like maybe, just maybe, you weren't going to run away from this crazy revelation.

"Go," you said softly. "Before someone sees you."

Jisung hesitated for just a moment longer, looking at you sitting there in the ruins of what should have been your first date, your dress torn and your hair messed up but your eyes still bright and determined. Then he shot a web line and swung away into the night, leaving you with paramedics and police officers and a million questions that would have to wait until tomorrow.

—

The next evening, Jisung paced back and forth in the alley behind the science building, checking his phone every thirty seconds and trying not to throw up from nervousness.

He'd spent the entire day going over what he was going to say, how he was going to explain everything without sounding completely insane. How do you tell someone that you've been lying to them about your entire identity? That every time you'd disappeared or acted weird, it was because you were running off to fight crime in a costume?

At exactly ten PM, you appeared at the mouth of the alley, looking beautiful and nervous and determined all at once. You'd changed out of your torn dress from the night before into jeans and a sweater, but you still looked perfect to Jisung.

"Hi," you said, walking toward him slowly, like you were approaching a wild animal that might bolt at any sudden movement.

"Hi," Jisung replied, his voice cracking slightly. "Thanks for coming. I wasn't sure you would."

"I almost didn't," you admitted, stopping a few feet away from him. "I spent all day convincing myself that last night was some kind of stress-induced hallucination. That there was no way the guy I've been crushing on for two years is actually Spider-Man."

"I know how it sounds," Jisung said miserably. "I know it's insane and I know I should have told you sooner, but I couldn't. Not because I didn't trust you, but because... because people I care about get hurt when they know. Last night proved that."

"Is that why you kept leaving?" you asked. "The party, and all those times after class when you'd suddenly have to go somewhere?"

"Yeah." Jisung ran a hand through his hair, looking anywhere but at your face. "My spider-sense—it's like an early warning system. When something bad is about to happen, when people are in danger, I can feel it. And I can't ignore it. Even when I want to more than anything in the world."

You were quiet for a long moment, processing this information. Then you asked, "How long?"

"Six months. Since the spider bite during that field trip to Oscorp." Jisung finally looked at you, and he was surprised to see that you didn't look angry or scared. Just... thoughtful. "Felix and Jay know. They're the only ones who know."

"That explains a lot," you said with a small laugh. "I always wondered why they covered for you so much with the whole 'food poisoning' thing."

"You knew about that?"

"Jisung, you allegedly got food poisoning like fifteen times this semester. Either you have the worst immune system in history, or you were lying about something." You stepped closer, and Jisung's heart started racing for reasons that had nothing to do with danger. "I just never imagined it was because you were secretly saving people."

"Are you... are you okay with this?" Jisung asked hesitantly. "Because I understand if you're not. It's a lot, and it's dangerous, and I totally get it if you want to pretend last night never happened and go back to normal."

Instead of answering immediately, you reached up and touched his face gently, your fingers tracing along his jawline where his mask would normally sit.

"When I was trapped in that Ferris wheel car," you said softly, "and I saw you swinging toward me, do you know what I thought?"

Jisung shook his head, not trusting his voice.

"I thought, 'of course it's him.' Not Spider-Man—you. Of course it was you coming to save me. Because that's who you are, Jisung. You're the person who helps people, who puts others before himself, who runs toward danger instead of away from it. The costume doesn't change that. It just makes it official."

Jisung felt like he might cry. "Y/N..."

"I'm not going anywhere," you said firmly. "I mean, I might need some time to process the whole 'my crush is a superhero' thing, and we're definitely going to need to have some conversations about safety and communication. But I'm not going anywhere."

Before Jisung could respond, you stood up on your tiptoes and kissed him. It was soft and sweet and perfect, everything he'd imagined their first kiss would be. When you pulled away, you were both smiling.

"So," you said, staying close enough that he could count your eyelashes, "I believe you owe me a proper date. One without any metal villains or exploding Ferris wheels."

"I can probably manage that," Jisung said, grinning. "Though I can't promise there won't be any interruptions. The whole superhero thing doesn't really come with regular hours."

"I'll take my chances," you said, then added with a mischievous smile, "Besides, dating Spider-Man has to come with some pretty interesting stories."

Two Months Later

You were walking home from your evening class, taking the long way through the quieter part of campus because you enjoyed the peace after a day of lectures and studying. It was a Thursday night, and the campus was mostly empty except for a few other students heading back to their dorms.

You'd been dating Jisung for two months now, and it had been... an adjustment. Learning to date someone with a secret identitty came with its own unique challenges. There were the sudden disappearances when his spider-sense went off, the nights when he'd show up at your window with cuts and bruises he'd explain away as "rough patrol," and the constant worry that came with loving someone who put their life on the line for strangers.

But there were also the incredible moments. The way he'd swing by your dorm room window just to say goodnight. The time he'd stopped a mugging three blocks from your apartment and then shown up for your study date five minutes later, slightly out of breath but smiling. The growing realization that you were in love with someone who was genuinely, selflessly good.

You were thinking about this, smiling to yourself as you walked through the alley that was a shortcut to your building, when you heard the familiar sound of web-shooters.

"You know," came a voice from above you, "it's not safe for pretty girls to walk alone through dark alleys at night."

You looked up to see a familiar red and blue figure hanging upside down from a web attached to the fire escape above. Even through the mask, you could tell he was grinning.

"Good thing I have my own personal superhero to protect me," you said, walking over to stand directly beneath him.

"Oh really? And who might that be?" Jisung asked, lowering himself on his web until he was hanging at your eye level, still upside down.

"Just this guy I know," you said casually, reaching up to roll his mask up just enough to expose his lips. "He's pretty amazing. Saves the city, helps old ladies cross the street, looks great in spandex."

"Sounds like a catch," Jisung murmured, his voice slightly muffled by the mask.

"He is," you agreed,

He slips his mask up to expose his mouth and nose.

Without thinking you grabbed his face and kissed him.

It was just like the movies—the upside-down kiss in the alley, romantic and perfect and slightly ridiculous. When you pulled away, you were both laughing.

"I love you," Jisung said, and even though he'd said it before, it still made your heart race.

"I love you too, Spider-boy," you replied, straightening his mask back down. "Now come down from there and walk me home properly. And try not to get distracted by any crimes in progress."

"No promises," Jisung said, flipping right-side up and landing gracefully beside you. "But for you, I'll try to keep the heroics to a minimum."

He took your hand, and you walked together through the quiet campus, just two college students in love. The fact that one of you happened to have superpowers and a tendency to swing from buildings was just a detail—an important one, but just a detail nonetheless.

As you reached your building, you turned to say goodnight, but Jisung was already looking up at the sky with that familiar expression that meant his spider-sense was tingling.

"Go," you said, before he could even explain. "Be safe. Text me when you get home."

"I love you," he said again, pulling you close for one more quick kiss.

"I love you too. Now go save the city, Spider-Man."

You watched him swing away into the night, his red and blue suit disappearing into the darkness between buildings. Then you headed inside, smiling to yourself and thinking about how much your life had changed since that first party where you'd almost kissed a boy who turned out to be so much more than you'd ever imagined.

Dating a superhero wasn't easy, but it was worth it. He was worth it.

And somewhere in the distance, you could hear the sound of web-shooters and Jisung's voice calling out some smartass comment to whatever villain was unlucky enough to cross his path tonight. You fell asleep to that sound, knowing that the city was a little bit safer because the boy you loved was out there protecting it.

A/N: an apology fic for failing to finish up my hyunjin fic!! Love you boogers!

1K notes · View notes

luvbinnies · 6 months ago

Text

i made a promise, to distance myself

A boy who kept his feelings locked away and someone who wore their heart on their sleeve. When he walked away, it was without warning, without reason. And they refused to wait for an explanation. Now few months later, forced to work together on a project neither can escape, old wounds resurface. Silence turns into stolen glances, resentments bleeds into something dangerously familiar, and the past refuses to stay buried.

Genre: fluff, angst, exs to lovers, el oh el.

warnings: swearing, isaac newton mentioned, could be sad ig (?), i can't think of anything else

a/n: im back from the dead, recently fell under a moving car and got dumped el oh el, some parts in here are inspo by like my actual life, i have a list of all the similarities if anyone is curiosu at the end of the story. basically wake up from a dream where me and my ex got back together and wrote this.

wc: 9.6k (longest fic ever el oh el)

Jumping off a flight of stairs was probably not the best idea, but it was the only thing you could think of at the moment.

Reluctantly moving down the stairs and following the loud clunk sounds of your stupid bright neon green water bottle. Books and papers of drawings and blueprints that won't fit into your messenger bag without getting damaged. Maybe you should’ve listened to when people said getting a regular backpack was much more convenient than the bag you had now, but it was much more fashionable.

Landing at the bottom of the staircase, take a moment to breathe and prepare yourself for having to go back up five flights of stairs to get to class. Because even though the school is one of the prestigious in the country, they refuse to have any sort of elevators to ruin their “dark academic” aesthetic of the building.

Eyes traveling on the old cobbled stoned flooring, trying to locate a neo-coded water bottle, your mother insisted on getting since she read somewhere green is this year's lucky colour. Probably found in some ridiculous article, really got to get her off social media.

Bright neon green slipped through your peripheral vision, turning to face the still rolling bottle and walking towards it before it makes you late for your next class. It stops in front of a pair of solid black shoes, one that looks all too familiar. The figure stops at the feeling of the ratchet bottle that wants to ruin your day even more than it already has.

A recognizable pale hand, with a silver ring on the index, hesitantly drops down to pick up the bottle that led you down a path to the literal pits of hell for you. Eyes not dare looking up from the ground, taking your somewhat free hand and extending out your pinky to the now stranger you have a bitter taste in your mouth everytime you come near. Once the feeling of your pinky is weighted down by the feeling of the water bottle’s hook, you take off up the stairs with energy that you didn’t think you had anymore left of, as it’s your third time climbing these stairs in the past ten minutes.

Not a care in the world if a stranger walks by and deem you as a rude bastard who can’t even say thank you, because you can;t even say a word to the “nice stranger” who handed you your water bottle. All you can do around him now is just run and avoid. That’s what you continue to do until you reach your class, probably looking a little weird as you were also cursing at your bottle and gravity, mainly isaac newton, he’s usually the bane of all your problems lately, besides the man you used to call yours.

—

His friends would sometimes joke to him that the world is too fast for him at times, usually when he doesn’t get a joke right away or for him zoning out, especially as it has been worse in these past few months.

But that happened so fast, he has no idea what to do, or how to react but just to stare at your figure rushing up the stairs. Sunghoon’s jaw tightens as you fade away up the many flights of stairs. Acting like he is some contagious virus, even afraid to touch him, much less look at him.

He would remember when their friend group was still intact and when they would all hang out, how sometimes the gang would get too overwhelming, even from the other side of the room you would catch his eye and always give him a comforting smile. And the simple eye contact with one another, while the world moves along around them.

But he had lost that with you and it’s all his fault.

—

Taking a little break from the assignment in front of you to angrily tap on your phone so the ads on your music app stop, knowing you aren’t really actually doing anything to get rid of them unless you become one of the apps victims and pay for music. But your stubbornness and being broke, so aggressively hitting your phone is your next best solution.

The little silence after the ad is finally done and the next song is about to start, you can hear a mechanical pencil roll off of a desk. A quiet clatter could barely be noticed in the slight hum of the library. You didn’t hear it at first, the angry high you had because of the ad made you lock out of concentrating from your work— until you noticed the hand reaching for it making you pause.

Long pale fingers. A silver ring on the index.

You know those hands, it's your second time seeing them in… you weren’t too sure the last time you saw those hands when they were wrapped around your water bottle. All you knew was that you were seeing those hands much sooner than you needed to.

Those hands, you remember the weight of those hands in yours, the way they used to hold your face and caress your cheek, the way they tug at your sleeves on your sweater absentmindedly.

And you recognize the pencil.

It’s yours.

Not exactly, but you did buy that pencil.

Something in you starts feeling nauseous, or light-headed, you couldn’t really figure out in the moment because without thinking, you reach out and yank that pencil right out of his grip.

Maybe you shouldn’t have done that, because now that gross boy opened his mouth, but you didn’t care.

Sunghoon blinks. “Hey did you just—”

Whenever you were bored in class you would always do fun pencil tricks and even taught him how to do some with this said pencil in your hands.

Spinning the pencil around, inspecting it with feigned interest, not caring about the boy next to you with his mouth open like a fish staring at you. “Huh. I forgot how nice this pencil was.”

Now his mouth is close as he clenches his jaw, his stare sharpening. “You can’t be serious.”

Finally turning your head to look at him, trying to maintain the emotions on your face. Instead of saying something you might end up regretting, in the fear of sounding cringe, you just shrug.

“Give it back.”

“Why?” Resting your chin on your hand. “It’s mine.”

He exhales sharply, the kind of exasperated breath he used to let out when you teased for taking things too seriously. Except now there’s a little bit of an edge to everything.

“You gave it to me.”

You tilt your head “Did I?”

You weren’t sure if he could clench his jaw any harder, but somehow he does. “Yeah. You did.”

Your grip on the pencil tightens. You can’t say you remember everything that was said the night of the break up, but you remember the way you felt, the way he left without explanation— like he couldn’t bear to stay with you any second longer. As if he couldn’t stand to hold on to something that was already slipping away.

He didn’t even let you have a say, you didn’t get the chance to do anything, not even fight for what was yours then.

So now you hold on to that damn pencil.

“Well,” you say, voice light, “technically, it was mine first.”

Sunghoon lets out a humorless laugh, one you don’t recognize in this fever dream daze of nostalgia. Leaning against the table, he’s close now, closer than you could've prepared for. You hate the way your heart stumbles over itself at the lack of distance, at the way he still smells the same— like something clean and sharp, a little cologne you had bought him about a year ago for his birthday.

His voice drops an octave. “You’re seriously pulling this shit?”

Shrugging again, simply just pulling a stare you hope doesn’t reveal how fast your heart is beating stupidly like it used to.

He watches you for a long second, his brown eyes scanning your face like he’s trying to figure out what type of game you were playing. But then, not arguing, instead of pushing back, he just exhales softly.

“Fine,” he mutters, “Keep it.”

And then, right before he turns away— so quiet you almost think you had imagined it—

“It suits you better anyways.”

You blink.

Before you could say anything, maybe asking what the fuck he meant by what he said, he’s already walking off. Leaving you with a mechanical pencil in your hands and this time you watching him as he walks away, with a taste of words you don’t quite understand.

—

Two year ago

Rain pitter patters against the windows, a dull hum in the background in the near-empty classroom. It’s late— too late for anyone to be here— you didn’t care, you were too stubborn. Chewing on your nail, brows furrowed in concentration as you glare at your notebook, completely oblivious to the fact that Sunghoon hasn’t turned a page in the last ten minutes.

He should be focusing. He should be running through formulas in his head, thinking about the test tomorrow, or at the very least be pretending to be studying. Instead, he’s watching you— watching the way you puff out your cheeks when you stop understanding what you were just doing, the way you spin the pencil in your hand absentmindedly, the way you whisper to yourself while doing each exercise when you think no one’s listening.

You’re always like this– loud without meaning to be, pulling attention without even trying.

He should’ve known sooner. That you were dangerous in the kind of way that crept up on him, slipping past his defenses before he had the chance to stop it.

“Sunghoon.”

Your voice snaps him back to reality, he straightens, forcing his face into something neutral. “What?”

Pushing your notebook towards him, sighing dramatically. “Did you do this one yet? I don’t know if I did it correctly.”

He glances at your notebook, eyes widening a little, as to the most he could see on the page was a bunch of scribbles and some incoherent formulas and calculation. Having a hard time reading it , before shifting his chair closer. You don’t think twice about it when your shoulders brush. You never do.

But he does.

He always does.

“Is this your answer, at the corner?” he asks, taking your pencil without thinking, to circle the little number at the bottom of the page. Your fingers graze for a second, and he wonders if you feel the static the way he does. Probably not. You’d pull away if you did.

He attempted to go over your work, commenting on what you have written in a voice that’s much steadier than he feels. You nod along, resting your chin on your hand, eye flickering between his face and page.

“I hate Isaac Newton and that stupid apple.” you grumble.

Sunghoon huffs a quiet laugh shaking his head. “You just overthink everything.”

You groan. “I wish that apple killed that stupid white man.”

He watches as you bury your head in your arms on the table, tapping your forehead lightly with the end of the pencil before setting it back down. “Just stop overthinking and wishing death upon an already dead man.”

Lifting your head, you blink at him, lips parting like you want to argue, but for a brief moment, something passes between the two of you— something neither of you have a name for yet.

And then you roll your eyes, reaching for your notebook. “Yeah, yeah. Whatever, idiot.”

Sunghoon watches as you turn your pages to start a new question, completely unaware of the way his fingers twitch against his knee, resisting the urge to brush a stray strand of hair from your face.

Yeah.

He’s in trouble.

—

A few months ago

The night air is cold, but not as cold as the space between you.

Your arms are crossed. His hands are shoved into his pockets.

A street light flickers overhead. A car passes in the distance.

Sunghoon exhales, steadying himself.

Then. before he can stop it— before he can think too hard about what he’s about to lose—

“I think we should break up.”

Silence.

The kind that swallows everything whole.

Your lips part, but no words come out.

The look in your eyes— confusion, disbelief, then something else, something that burns—

“What-Why?”

He doesn’t answer. Or maybe he does, but it’s not the right thing.

It’s never the right thing.

The air is heavy, thick with things neither of you are saying.

Then, finally— your voice, quieter this time.

“Okay.”

A single step back. Then another.

And then—

Nothing.

—

The classroom hums with chatter, students moving around and the teacher speaking about some project, but you were barely listening. Your attention is elsewhere— on your notebook, on the scratches of pen against paper, literally anything but him.

He was two rows ahead, resting his chin on his hand, half-focused on his laptop. Almost similar to you right now. Too similar.

You don’t look at him. You don’t let yourself.

But then—

“For the project, you’ll be working in pairs.”

There is a ripple of movement through the room, students glancing around already choosing their partners.

“I’ve assigned them to you.”

Your stomach twists.

You sit a little straighter. Your fingers tighten around your pen.

The professor starts listing off names. One by one, students find their partner. You’re holding your breath, waiting for—

And then—

Your name.

And then, immediately after—

His.

You freeze.

The room suddenly feels too small, the air too thick.

Someone nudges your arm, murmuring something about how lucky you are since you get to work with the “hottest guy on campus”, but their voice is distant, muffled by the sound of blood rushing in your ears.

Slowly, hesitantly, you lift your gaze.

Sunghoon had turned in his seat.

For the first time in months, you’re looking at each other.

And the worst part? He doesn’t even look surprised.

—

Sunghoon doesn’t hear from you for the rest of the day.

Not a text, not a call— nothing.

And the, at exactly 11:51 pm., an email lands in his inbox.

Subject: Project Task

From: [email protected]

To: [email protected]

Attached is the project outline. I’ve divided the tasks. I’ll handle the structural analysis and concept sketches. You can do the mechanical components. Tell me when you are done.

Sent from my phone

That’s it. No greeting. No unnecessary words. Not even your name.

Sunghoon exhales through his nose, clicking open the file. You’ve already set up everything— titles, labels, even deadlines. You’ve practically built a wall of professionalism between you, as if you were never anything but classmates.

And it pisses him off.

Fine. two can play this game.

He types a reply, short and to the point.

Subject: Re: Project Tasks

Got it.

He doesn’t hit send.

His fingers hover over the keyboard. His jaw clenches.

Then, in a moment of stubborn impulse, he types—

You can’t avoid me forever.

And hits send before he can take it back.

—

“You know, he’s right.”

You shoot a glare over at Sunoo. “Don’t start.”

“I’m just saying,” he continued, kicking his feet up on the bench. “You can’t ignore him forever.”

“I can, actually.” you sip your matcha pointedly. “It’s called email.”

He snorts. “You sound like a middle-aged professor.”

“Good. Maybe he’ll leave me alone then.”

Sunoo raises an eyebrow. “He literally told you, ‘You can’t avoid me forever.’”

You roll your eyes. “Yeah, and? I don’t care.”

The words are barely out of your mouth when Sunoo suddenly stiffens, eyes darting over your shoulder.

“Uh—”

You don’t even have to ask. You just know.

There’s a familiar shift to the air, an awareness pressing down on your skin.

And then, just to confirm it—

“Shit,” Sunoo mutters. “He’s down the hall.”

You don’t think. You just move.

Your hands shoot out, gripping his sleeve as you drag them down the corridor.

“Are you serious?!” he hiss between stumbling steps.

“Shut up, shut up , shut up—”

“Please can we stop running, I don’t think he would be chasing us down for sport.”

You don’t care. You don’t turn around because you know if you do, you’ll see Sunghoon standing there, staring after you, that unreadable look on his face.

And you are not giving him that satisfaction.

Not today.

—

Staring at your laptop screen, fingers hovering over the keyboard, the flashing cursor blinking back at you in defiance. You’ve been avoiding this email for days— every time you think about it your stomach churns, and you mind races with excuses.

You don’t want to deal with him. Not now. Not ever again.

The project, the meeting, the unavoidable tension. You had hoped, foolishly, that you could really just avoid Sunghoon completely— keep everything strictly professional, send email, handle the assignment without having to face him in person. But that plan was crushed the moment the email landed in your inbox, his name in bold.

“Let’s meet in person tomorrow to go over the project. I’ll bring the drafts.”

Of course, Sunghoon had to take the initiative. You had a suspicion he’d never let you hide behind your screen forever. He was stubborn, too, in a way that always seemed to get under your skin.

You arrived at the library, dragging your feet, already feeling the weight of the situation settle in your chest. The project was an assignment, but the real challenge was having to sit across from him, pretending that nothing had happened, pretending that the last year— no, the last months— hadn’t been a whirlwind of frustration and heartache.

But here you were, faced with reality. You walked into the library, hoping to avoid eye contact, but you couldn’t escape the familiar sight of him sitting at a table with all his papers neatly organized, a slight form on his face as he scanned the documents.

His eyes flicked up when he saw you enter, and for a second, your heart skipped a beat. But you force yourself to remain calm. He was just a classmate now, just another part of your academic routine. Nothing more.

You set your things down at the table across from him, pulling your laptop out with the practiced motions of someone who had done this a thousand times before. You weren;t going to make this more personal than it had to be. No small talk. No catching up. Just the project.

“Hey,” Sunghoon greeted, his voice neutral but carrying the weight of something unsaid. He glanced at the papers in front of you and then back to you. “Are you okay with everything so far? I made some revisions to the outline.”

You didn;t look at him. Instead, you glanced at the project papers and began sorting through them, avoiding his gaze entirely. “I’ll read them over later. Just… let’s focus on getting it done.”

You felt his eyes on you, the tension palpable in the air, but you refused to acknowledge it. You had your own part to do, your own work to focus on. Nothing else mattered right now. The project was the only thing that mattered.

—

Sunghoon sighed, and you could hear the edge of frustration creeping into his voice. “Look, I know this isn;t easy for either of us, but we’re stuck with each other for this project. We might as well get it done right.”

“I’m not here to talk,” you snapped back, the words sharp and defensive. “Just focus on your part. I’ll handle mine.”

His expression hardened , but he didn’t push it any further. He opened up his own laptop and began typing, the sound of the keyboard tapping filling the silence between the both of you.

For a while, it was quiet— just the sound of typing, rustling of papers. But no matter how hard you tried to focus, you couldn;’t shake the nagging feeling that he was watching you. His presence was like a shadow that followed your every move you made, and you hated how it made your chest tighten. You shouldn’t feel like this. You had no reason to. This wasn’t supposed to be personal. It was just a project.

But then, suddenly, Sunghoon spoke again, his voice quieter, almost reluctant.

“You know,” he said, voice low but insistent, “we used to work well together. Back in high school. Why are you making this harder than it has to be?”

You froze, your fingers still on the keyboard. You could feel the old pain creep up your throat, but you swallowed it down, shoving it away. No. Don’t go there.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you said, your voice steady but with a hint of something you don’t want to put a name to. And then, with a sigh, he turned his attention back to his laptop, typing in silence for a long time.

—

Two year ago

It had been a late night at the library, the kind where the air felt thick with concentration and the promise of deadlines hanging over every student in the building. You were sitting at the same table as Sunghoon, both of you buried in textbooks, trying to get ahead before the weekend.

It was supposed to be just another study session, but something felt different. Maybe it was the way the soft overhead lights cast shadows over his features or how the silence between you two wasn’t awkward but comfortable. You couldn’t help it— his face was so focused, his lips slightly pursed in concentration, and for some reason, the sight of him studying like that made your heart skip.

“Is there something on my face?” he asked, his voice teasing but gentle.

You blinked and quickly looked away, flustered. “No … it’s just, you look… nice when you study.”

Sunghoon raised an eyebrow, clearly amused. He leaned forward slightly, his voice lower than usual. “Nice, huh? That’s a first.”

You wanted to curl up and die from embarrassment, but instead you found yourself smiling despite the heat in your cheeks. Something about being with him felt so easy, so natural.

And then, before you could stop yourself, the words slipped out. “You look… pretty. When you study.”

There was a long pause, and then Sunghoon chuckled, his smile widening. “Pretty, huh? Well, that’s new.”

You couldn’t help it. You laughed too, the awkwardness melting away in the warmth of his gaze. That moment— when you both realized that maybe there was something more there— was when it all started.

—

The silence in the library stretches again. You go back to your laptop, trying to focus on the work in front of you. But the memory of that moment, of those words you’d said so long ago, hangs in the air like a ghost.

Sunghoon’s presence is undeniable now. Every time his shoulder brushes against yours as he reaches for his drink, it feels like a jolt of electricity. You grit your teeth, forcing yourself to keep working, to ignore the way his proximity makes your heart race.

“You know, if we just worked together instead of pretending we’re strangers, this would be a lot easier,” Sunghoon says again, his voice a little more insistent now, but still carrying that gentle tone.

You refuse to look up, clenching your jaw. “Just finish your part. I’ll finish mine.”

“I’ve always liked how stubborn you are,” he mutters, but there’s a soft fondness behind the words. “But you’re going to make this harder than it has to be, aren’t you?”

You bite your lip, fighting the urge to snap back. But the reality is that he’s right. You are making this harder. You’re making everything harder by refusing to acknowledge how much you still feel for him.

But you can’t admit that, not now, not when the walls between you two are so high, so insurmountable.

—

It’s late—too late for anyone to be at the library anymore. The harsh overhead lights flicker in the empty room, casting long shadows on the tables where students usually sat, buried in their books. But not you. You’re still here, alone, a stack of textbooks and papers spread out before you. The hum of the fluorescent lights fills the air, broken only by the soft tapping of your fingers on the keyboard.

You’ve been here for hours, the deadline looming closer with every passing second. Your mind is tired, but you won’t leave until you finish. It’s like a race against time. A way to distract yourself from everything else.

But then, you feel it. A presence.

You look up, and there’s Sunghoon, standing by the entrance, his gaze scanning the room. You immediately look away, pretending you hadn’t seen him. Why is he here? You weren’t supposed to see him, not tonight.

He walks toward you slowly, his footsteps soft but deliberate. You keep your eyes down, focused on the papers in front of you, but you can feel him getting closer.

“You’re still here?” Sunghoon says, his voice low, like he’s not sure what to make of the situation.

You sigh, unwilling to make this a conversation. “I’m working. Is that a problem?”

“No,” he answers quickly, but there’s a softness to his tone now. Something gentler. “Just... thought you’d left by now.”

You don’t look up, but you hear him pull out the chair opposite you. He sits down, but doesn’t speak immediately. You don’t say anything either. It’s awkward. You try to focus on the work in front of you, trying to ignore the feeling of his presence, so close but still so far away.

You keep your head down, but the longer you stay in the silence, the more you feel the walls you’ve built start to crumble, piece by piece. He doesn’t push you. Doesn’t force a conversation. He just... stays.

You try not to think too much about it. It’s just Sunghoon. Just a classmate.

But then, hours later, you’re blinking, your head feeling heavy as you try to focus on the screen in front of you. You hadn’t realized how tired you were until your eyelids started to flutter. You hadn’t meant to fall asleep, but the exhaustion catches up with you.

You don’t even realize you’ve nodded off until you’re suddenly jerked awake, your head jerking up from the desk. The library is quiet, almost too quiet, and the light from the desk lamp casts a soft glow around the room. That’s when you notice it.

A jacket—dark, heavy, and familiar—draped over your shoulders.

You blink, still groggy from sleep, and turn to see that Sunghoon is gone, his chair empty. You try to shake the fogginess from your mind, but there’s no denying it: He left his jacket with you.

You didn’t hear him come back. Didn’t feel him approaching. But somehow, he’d slipped it onto you while you were asleep, without a sound.

You sit there for a moment, the jacket still warm against your skin. His scent clings to it, and you find yourself unable to take it off. It feels wrong to just leave it behind, but you’re not sure why it feels so important to keep it on.

You look down at your own hands, your fingers grazing the sleeve, feeling the weight of the jacket, both literally and emotionally. You’re not sure if it’s the jacket that’s weighing on you or the memories that come with it. But it’s there. And so is he.

You stay there for a few more minutes, just sitting in the quiet, knowing that it would be impossible to get anything more done tonight. You pack up your things, but you don’t take off the jacket. Instead, you walk out of the library with it on, your heart a little heavier than when you came in.

—

It was dark outside, and the bus was filled with the soft chatter of your classmates. You and Sunghoon were sitting in the same seat, your shoulders brushing as you both leaned against the window, tired from the day’s activities.

You’d always been close, never quite aware of how it felt to have someone just be there with you. But that day, there was something different about it. It was like you both had settled into this quiet rhythm—comfortable, easy.

You leaned your head against the window, gazing out at the passing lights. The bus was warm, and your eyes were starting to grow heavy from the day’s exhaustion. Without realizing it, you drifted off, your head slipping onto Sunghoon’s shoulder.

He didn’t immediately pull away, didn’t complain. He just let you sleep, his body slightly tensing at the sudden closeness, but not enough to push you away.

And when you woke up, it wasn’t awkward. You just rubbed your eyes, looked up at him, and smiled.

“You’re comfy,” you murmured.

Sunghoon chuckled softly. “You really just fell asleep on me, huh?”

You laughed, feeling a warmth in your chest. “It’s not like I did it on purpose. I didn’t even realize.”

And even though it had only been a few seconds, you both lingered in that moment, your eyes meeting briefly before he gave you a smile that made your heart flutter.

You’d brushed it off as nothing—just a friendly gesture.

—

You’re still sitting in your room, the jacket still on your shoulders. It feels like a weight, not because it’s heavy, but because of the memories it brings. The warmth lingers on your skin, but so does the uncertainty. You can’t figure out why this is bothering you so much.

Your phone buzzes on the table, pulling you from your thoughts. A new email. You don’t need to look at it to know it’s from him. Sunghoon.

The message is simple: “Still need help with the project. Let me know if you want to meet up.”

You close your eyes and let out a slow breath. You want to ignore it. Pretend you didn’t see it. But you can’t. Because part of you wants him to be there. Part of you wants him to still be the one to help you, even if you don’t want to admit it.

You stand up, pacing around the room, the jacket slipping slightly off your shoulders as you move. You pull it tighter around you, almost subconsciously.

You know you’ll have to face him again. Maybe tomorrow. Maybe sooner. Hopefully later. But right now, with his jacket still draped over you, you’re not sure if you're ready.

But for some reason, you know you’re going to have to take it off.

—

You walk into the classroom, clutching the jacket in your hands. It’s been a couple of days since you woke up to find it draped over your shoulders, Sunghoon’s jacket—a silent gesture that spoke more than words ever could. He hadn’t said anything when you first found it. It had simply been there. At first, you thought it was an accident, but the longer you held onto it, the more it felt like something else. You hadn’t returned it immediately, unsure why you kept it. But now, with the fact the two of you share a class together, it felt like the right time.

You spot him sitting by the window, alone, lost in whatever thoughts occupy his mind. He doesn’t notice you as you approach, and the moment feels strangely... intimate, even though you're still far from the comfort you once shared.

You stand in front of him, holding out the jacket, but he doesn’t immediately take it. His eyes flicker up, and for a split second, something unreadable passes between you. He reaches for the jacket, but as his fingers brush yours, it’s more of a reflex than any real desire to touch.

Before you can pull away, a voice from behind you cuts through the moment.

"Are you two... together or just friends?"

You glance over to find a couple of classmates watching you both curiously. It’s a casual question, but the curiosity in their eyes is unmistakable. Sunghoon’s hand freezes mid-motion, his fingers still hovering over the jacket. He looks back at them briefly, his gaze faltering, not quite meeting yours.

For a moment, you’re not sure what to say. You notice how Sunghoon looks at the ground, avoiding any real response. His lips press together, his hand still unsure of whether to take the jacket back or not. He’s hesitant, as always.

You, on the other hand, feel the weight of the question, but you don’t shy away from it. Not this time. You stand tall, glancing over at your classmates and meeting their gaze.

“We’re just friends,” you say, your voice steady and clear. “Nothing more.”

Sunghoon doesn’t say anything. He just takes the jacket from your hand, his fingers brushing yours again, but this time it’s almost mechanical. You turn away quickly, the moment lingering behind you like an unspoken tension.

Your classmates exchange glances, their curiosity piqued, but they don’t push further. They turn their attention to the front of the room as class starts, but the question still lingers in the air.

You sit down at your desk, feeling the eyes of your classmates on you for a moment longer than usual. You force yourself to focus, pretending it doesn’t matter, but the thought of that brief interaction, the way Sunghoon avoided the question, settles heavily in your chest.

The class continues, but your mind drifts, back to that jacket and the weight of unspoken words. You can’t help but wonder what he might’ve said if you hadn’t answered for both of you.

No, that’s what he should’ve said because you guys were not dating, he broke up with you, and now the two of you were simply forced to work together. That’s it.

—

The autumn air was crisp, carrying the scent of fallen leaves as the two of you walked side by side down the quiet street. The school festival had just ended, and the distant hum of laughter and music still echoed behind you. Groups of students were lingering back at the event, but somehow, the two of you ended up here, together, away from it all.

It wasn’t planned. It never was with him. It was just how things always seemed to happen.

You hugged your arms around yourself because of the cold, cursing at yourself for not bringing a bigger jacket knowing the weather but wanting to look good for the event. He walked a little ahead, hands stuffed in the pockets of his jackets, his head tilted slightly towards you as if he was waiting for you to say something.

You had always been the talker between the both of you. The one who made friends easily, the one who never hesitated. But right now, the words sat heavy on your tongue, unspoken.

He let out a small sigh, looking up at the sky. “It’s late.”

“You should’ve left earlier then.”

He huffed, a tiny, almost-smile tugging at his lips before he looked back ahead. “You didn’t have to leave, you know.”

You shrugged. “Didn’t feel like staying.”

It wasn’t a lie, but it wasn’t the full truth either. The festival had been fine, fun even. But then you’d seen him standing by himself, lingering near the edges of the crowd, not quite a part of it. And suddenly, the excitement of it all had dimmed.

He kicked a small rock with the tip of his shoe, watching it tumble along the pavement. “Didn’t think you were the type to leave a party early.”

“I’m full of surprises.”

A breeze picked up, and instinctively, you crossed your arms tighter over yourself. Without a word, Sunghoon shrugged off his jacket and held it out to you.

You blinked at him. “What are you doing?”

“You’re cold.”

You scoffed. “I’m not cold.”

He didn’t say anything, just kept holding the jacket out with that blank expression of his— the one that meant he wasn;t going to argue. You hesitated for a second too long, and then, as if deciding for you, he draped it over your shoulders himself.

You looked up at him, a retort on the tip of your tongue, but then you caught the way his fingers lingered just a second longer against your shoulder, the way he swallowed, like he wanted to say something but thought better of it.

It was nothing.

It was everything.

Your heart did something stranger in your chest, a quiet stutter. But then he pulled away, shoving his hands back into his pockets, eyes flickering elsewhere like it was no big deal.

Like he didn’t just leave you standing there in the middle of the empty street, drowning in the scent of his cologne, trying not to overthink what had just happened.

“Let’s go.” he said, his voice calm, steady. Like always.

You didn’t move right away. You just watched him, this boy who always seemed out of reach.

Then you exhaled and started walking again, side by side, your steps falling in sync.

And if your hands brushed once— just once— neither of you said a word about it.

—

After class, you head out of the room, your mind still lingering on the awkward exchange. As you walk down the hallway, you notice Sunghoon a few paces behind you, his expression neutral. You don’t turn around, but you can feel his presence. It;s the same as always, but somehow it’s different.

The hallway stretches ahead of you both, and you find yourself wondering if it’s the same for him, if he’s feeling the same weight of the unsaid words hanging in the air between you. But then you push the thought away. You can’t keep thinking about it. Not now. Not like this.

The day continues, but it doesn’t feel the same. Something has shifted again. Not a big thing, just the subtle change in the air whenever Sunghoon is around. But for now, you focus on the present. The project. The work. There’s no room for anything else. At least not yet.

—

Sunghoon hated studying in public places. He hated the noise, the crowded spaces, the way it was impossible to concentrate. But for some reason, he was here.

With you.

The library was dimly lit, the only sounds coming from the occasional turning of pages and the soft clicking of keyboards. It was nearly empty at this hour, just the two of you tucked away in a corner, buried under textbooks and notes.

You sighed dramatically, stretching your arms over your head before slumping onto the desk. “I’m going to die here.”

Sunghoon didn’t look up from his notes. “You say that every time we study.”

“Yeah, and one day it’ll be true. And when that day comes, I hope you feel bad about it.”

He huffed a quiet laugh, shaking his head. “Dramatic.”

You turned your head to look at him, resting your cheek against your arm. The lamplight softened his features, highlighting the sharp angles of his jaw, the curve of his nose, the way his lashes cast faint shadows on his skin.

He was so pretty.

Unfairly so.

You frowned, furrowing your brows. “Do you know you’re pretty?”

That finally made him look up. He blinked at you, pen pausing mid-air. “What?”

“What?”

There was a flicker of something in his expression— surprise, amusement, something unreadable. He tilted his head slightly. “I don’t think about that kind of stuff.”

You scoff. “Oh shut up.”

Sunghoon shook his head, turning back to his notes. “You’re ridiculous.”

“You’re avoiding the question.”

“Because it’s a weird question.”

“It’s not weird.” You sighed, pushing yourself up onto your elbows. “I just think it’s unfair that some people get to be smart and pretty.”

His lips twitched, like he was trying not to smile. “You’re calling me smart too?”

“Don’t get ahead of yourself.”

You hadn’t meant anything by it. It was just a passing thought, casual observation. But for some reason. Sunghoon kept stealing glances at you for the rest of the night, his fingers tapping idly against his notebook, like he was trying to figure something out.

—

The library is quieter than usual tonight. The steady hum of air conditioning fills the space, and the dim, golden glow of the desk lamps casts long shadows on the wooden tables. It’s late— too late to still be working— but neither of you have left.

At first, you barely acknowledged each other. The project was the only thing keeping you here and even then, you refused to speak unless absolutely necessary. You typed your sections. He worked on his. Simple.

But at some point, between the furious clicking of keys and the scratching of his pen against paper, something shifted.

The silence wasn’t as sharpe anymore. The air between you wasn’t quite so cold.

You were still stubborn, still keeping your distance, but Sunghoon had started to slip through the cracks.

It was in the way he quietly slid your match closer when he noticed you reaching for it absentmindedly. In the way his eyes lingered a second longer than necessary whenever you furrowed your brows at the screen, lost in thought. In the way he wordlessly handed you a new pen when yours ran out of ink, his fingers brushing yours just for a second.

Little things.

Things you didn’t want to acknowledge.

Things that made it harder to pretend that you hadn’t missed this— missed him.

You force yourself to focus on the words in front of you, but your mind is elsewhere. On him. On the past.

—

It had been a long night.

You weren’t supposed to stay out this late, but somehow, time slipped away. It was just the two of you, walking home after an evening study session, the sky stretched out in a blanket of deep navy blue. The air was crisp, autumn settling in with a quiet chill, and your footsteps echoed against the empty sidewalk.

“I can’t feel my fingers,” you muttered, shoving your hands into your hoodie pockets.

Sunghoon glanced at you, amused. “Then why didn’t you bring gloves?”

“Because I didn’t know it’d be this cold.”

“You say that every year.”

You huffed, nudging him with your shoulder. “And every year, I am caught off guard.”

He rolled his eyes but reached for your sleeve, tugging your arm towards him. Before you could react, he took one of your hands in his, tucking it into the pocket of his jacket along with his own.

The warmth of his palm against yours sent a shiver up your spine— not from the cold, but from something else.

Something you hadn’t quite named yet.

Neither of you said anything about it. You just kept walkin, the streelights casting soft golden halos around you.

You reached your doorstep too soon.

Sunghoon stood there, shifting on his feet, his fingers still loosely curled around yours.

You should’ve pulled away. You should’ve said goodnight. But instead, you just stood there staring at him.

The light from the porch illuminated the sharp angles of his face, the way his dark eyes softened when they met yours. His gaze flickered down— just for a second— before he quickly looked away.

You swallowed, suddenly hyper-aware of how close you were. “Are you gonna keep standing there, or—”

“Shut up,” he muttered.

And then—-

He kissed you.

It was hesitant, barely a whisper of contact. But it sent your heart into a frenzy, your breath hitching, fingers tightening around him without thinking.

When he pulled away, his ears were red, and he wouldn’t meet your eyes. “I— I wasn’t planning to do that.”

You blinked at him, mind still catching up. “Okay.”

“Okay?”

“Okay,” you repeated, this time smiling.

Sunghoon exhaled, sometimes easing his shoulders.

“You;re still holding my hand.” you pointed out.

He let go immediately, shoving his hands into his pockets. “Shut up.”

But you could see the way the corners of his lips twitched upwards.

—

You stare at the screen in front of you, but the words are a blur. The memory lingers, making your chest feel tight.

Sunghoon shifts besides you stretching out his arms. His sleeves push up slightly, revealing the faint outline of veins along his forearms. You look away quickly, annoyed with yourself.

This is ridiculous.

You don’t care. You don’t.

“Take a break,” he says, voice low.

You exhale, rubbing at your temples. “I’m fine.”

“You’re not.”

You shoot him a glare, but he’s already looking back at his screen, unaffected. Typical.

Silence settles between you again, but it’s different now. He’s too close, the air between you too charged.

And then—

“Do you still hate me?”

Your breath catches. The question is quiet, but it feels deafening.

You turn to him, meeting his gaze for the first time in what feels like hours. His eyes are steady, but there’s something else there— something raw, something careful.

You open your mouth, but no words come out.

He swallows. “ you won’t even look at me.”

You force yourself to scoff, to roll your eyes. “I look at you all the time.”

“Not like before.”

That makes you freeze.

Because he’s right.

Before— before everything— you had looked at him like he held the universe in his hands. And maybe, in some ways, he had.

But that was then.

And now—

Now you don’t know what to do with this version of him, this version of you.

The air is thick with something you don’t want to name.

And before you can think better of it, before you can stop yourself—

You kiss him.

It's reckless, desperate, a collision of past and present, of things left unsaid and things you don’t want to admit.

His lips part slightly in surprise, but he doesn’t pull away. If anything, he leans in, his fingers grazing your jaw, like he’s afraid to break the moment.

And maybe you are too.

But then—

Reality crashed back in.

Your eyes widen, and you pull away abruptly, breathless, heart hammering.

Sunghoon blinks, still processing, “Wait—”

But you’re already pushing away from the table, standing up too quickly, your chair scraping against the floor.

“I have to go,” you say, voice unsteady.

And before he can stop you, before he can say anything else—

You turn and walk away.

Leaving him sitting there, watching you go.

Again.

—

Avoidance has always been your best defense.

You mastered it after the breakup, convincing yourself that if you could just stay out of Sunghoon’s orbit, then none of it— none of the pain, none of the unanswered questions, none of him— could touch you.

But ever since that kiss, it’s been impossible to keep up the act.

You stop sitting in your usual spots in the library. You change your walking routes between classes. You leave early to avoid any chance of running into him. Your emails about the project become even shorter, even more detached.

And still— it doesn’t feel like enough

Because the problem isn’t just him.

It’s you.

It’s the way your mind keeps replaying that night in the library, the way your lips still burn with the memory of his, the way your chest aches everytime you think about how you didn’t pull away immediately.

You shouldn’t have let it happen.

You shouldn’t have wanted it to.

But worst of all— you shouldn’t still want it now.

You tell yourself this over and over again. But nine of it matters when you turn the corner one evening, only to find yourself face-to-face with the one person you’ve been trying so hard to avoid.

Sunghoon.

Waiting for you.

Like he knew.

“You’re avoiding me again,” he says, his voice eerily calm.

You grip your bag tighter and look away. “I’m busy.”

“Liar.”

The word lands heavier than it should.

You take a step back, but he matches it, blocking your way. His eyes search yours, and you can feel how tired he is— tired of the silence, of the pretending, of whatever this is.

“Do you hate me that much?” His voice is quiet, but there’s an edge to it, something sharp and desperate.

You exhale hardly. “Sunghoon—”

“Just answer me,” he pressed, jaw clenched. “Do you hate me?”

The words catch in your throat.

You should say yes. You should give him the finality he seems to be looking for.

But you can’t.

And maybe he sees it— maybe he sees the way you falter, the way your fingers tighten around the strap of your bag— because his expression shifts.

And then—

The door beside you suddenly swings open. A group of students spills out, laughing and chatting, shoving past both of you.

You barely register it before someone crashes into you from behind, sending you stumbling backwards—

Right into the supply closet.

And of course— because the universe must hate you— the force of it slams Sunghoon into the tiny space as well.

And before either of you can react— click.

The door locks

Silence.

Then—

“You have got to be kidding me,” you hiss.

Sunghoon tries the handle, but it doesn’t budge. He exhales sharply, resting his forehead against the door for a second before turning back to you.

“Great.”

You let out a bitter laugh, crossing your arms. “What, you think I planned this?”

“No, but it’s convenient, isn’t it?” He glares at you, frustration bleeding into every word. “You’re always running away, and now you can’t.”

Your pulse spikes. “Excuse me?”

“You heard me,” he mutters. “You left the night. You’ve been avoiding me ever since. You won’t even talk to me—”

“Because there’s nothing to say!” you snap.

“Bullshit!” His voice rises, his patience unraveling. “Don’t act like you don’t care. You kissed me, and then you ran away like it meant nothing.”

You freeze.

Because he’s right.

It wasn’t nothing.

But admitting that? Giving him that satisfaction? You can’t.

So you do what you do best.

You push back

“You don’t get to act like you’re the victim here, Sunghoon,” you say, voice colder now. “Not when you broke up with me.”

Something flickers across his face.

“And not just that,” you continue, the weight of everything you’ve bottled up finally breaking through. “You left me without any warning. You didn’t talk to me about what was wrong. You didn’t even try. You just decided one day that it was over and that was it.”

—

It had been an ordinary afternoon. You remember it oo well— how he wouldn’t look at you, how his hands trembled slightly as he shoved them into his pockets.

And then—

“I think we should break up.”

The words hit you like a slap.

You laughed at first, thinking it was some sort of joke. But then you saw the way he avoided your gaze. The way his fingers curled into fists.

“Why?” Your voice had cracked. “What happened? Did I do something?”

He had only shaken his head. “It’s just…. I don’t think this is going to work.”

“What—”

“I am not sure I am what you really need.”

It was the last thing you expected to hear.

But it was the only explanation he ever gave you.

That's what started it, why you just started running away from him.

—

“You thought it wouldn’t work?” you glare at him now, eye burning. “What the hell does that even mean?”

Sunghoon pressed his lips together, like he regretted saying it. But it’s too late.

“You didn’t even give us a chance,” you continue, voice rising. “You just decided that it wasn’t going to work out for the both of us.”

“I wasn’t sure if I was what you really needed.”

Your breath catches. “Sunghoon—”

“You’re always surrounded by people. You make friends so easily. I wasn’t like that, I am not like that.” His voice is quiet now. “I feel like I was always holding you back.”

You shake your head, feeling something sharp and painful twist in your chest. “That’s what you thought?” You let out another bitter laugh. “You know, I thought that’s what brought us together. That we were so different. That worked because of that.”

Sunghoon looks at you then, something unreadable in his expression.

“There were two people in our relationship, you and me. You made that decision that we don’t work well, for the both of us.” you say, voice shaking. “And now you think it’s going to work now just because you want it to?”

He doesn’t answer.

And you hate how much that silence still hurts.

You exhale shakily, turning away. “I don’t trust you., Sunghoon.”

His jaw clenches. “I know.”

“And I don’t trust myself to let this happen again. Because if you could leave that easily once, what makes you think I believe you won’t do it again?”

This time, he doesn’t try to deny it.

Because he knows.

Because he did leave.

And you don’t know if you’ll ever be able to forgive him for that. You hated yourself for never being able to hate him at all.

The only sound in the tiny space is the faint buzz of the overhead light—

And the deafening weight of everything left unsaid.

The supply closet is cold, but the tension in the air is suffocating. When the door finally swings open, neither of you move right away. Sunghoon steps back first, his jaw clenched, like he’s holding back something he’ll never say. You follow a second later, not looking at him as you walk away.

After that, things are different.

You don’t avoid him anymore. Not really. You still exchange emails about the project, still sit across from each other in the library, still in the same space without outright hostility. But the sharpness between you dulls�� replaced by something softer, something sadder.

One night, long after the library should’ve closed, you look up from your notes to see Sunghoon staring at you. He doesn’t look away this time. Neither do you. For a moment, the world stills.

Then you blink, and the moment is gone.

—

The project ends.

So does your reason to stay in each other’s orbits.

You expect things to go back to normal, whether normal is supposed to be. You expect distance to creep back in, the silence to settle.

But somehow, Sunghoon lingers.

He doesn’t force conversation, doesn’t push. But you catch him in the corners of your vision— watching, waiting, hesitation. As if he’s waiting for you to decide what happens next.

—

Then one evening, you run into him.

It’s late. The air is cold, thick with the scent of winter. Sunghoon is standing outside the campus gates, hands shoved into his pockets, the street lights casting long shadows around him. He notices you before you can turn away.

“Hey,” he says, voice quiet.

You hesitate. Then, “Hey.”

There’s so much unsaid between you, so much left unfinished.

A part of you wonders— is this it? The last conversation before you both fade from each other’s lives completely?

Sunghoon opens his mouth, like he wants to say something more, but you shake your head, stopping him.

“It’s okay.” you say. “You don’t have to.”

His throat bobs as he swallows. He nods.

The streetlamps flicker above you. A car passes, its headlights flashing between you like a border, a final dividing line.

You should say something else. You should tell him you’ll see him around, that you’ll stay in touch, that you’ll find your way back to him someday.

But you don’t.

Instead you step back, offering a small, almost imperceptible smile.

“Take care, okay?”

For a second, you think he won’t respond. But then, finally— softly— he nods.

“You too.”

You turn around first. You don’t look back.

Sunghoon watches you walk away, his hands still in his pockets, his lips parts like he wants to stop you— but he never does.

The night swallows the both of you whole.

And just like that, it’s over.

—

The city hums in silence in the distance, but here, on the rooftop, it’s quiet/ the two of you sit side by side, legs dangling over the edge, the skyline stretching endlessly before you. The night is warm, the stars barely visible through the glow of streetlights.

“You’re gonna fall,” Sunghoon murmurs, eyeing the way you lean forwards slightly, hands bracing against the ledge.

You grin, tilting your head towards him. “You’d catch me.”

He doesn’t answer, but the corner of his mouth twitches, like he wants to smile but won’t let himself.

A soft breeze ruffles his hair. You reach out before you can stop yourself, fingers brushing through the strand, smoothing them down. Sunghoon stills at the touch, but he doesn’t pull away.

“You do that a lot,” he says after a moment.

“What?”

“Touch my hair.”

You blink, your hand dropping back to your lap. “Does it bother you?”

He exhales, looking away, down at the glittering streets below. “No.”

That’s all he says. But in the way his fingers clench slightly against his knee, in the way his shoulders stay tense even as the night air cools his skin— you realize something.

Sunghoon likes it.

He likes being close to you.

The thought makes your chest feel warm, something soft and fluttering settling behind your ribs. You don’t say anything about it, don’t tease or push. Instead, you lean back on your palms staring up at the sky.

“Feels like we could stay here forever,” you murmur.

Sunghoon glances at you, his expression unreadable.

Then, so quietly you almost don’t hear it—

“Yeah.”

author's note: basically everything in here thats inpso from irl with my actaully ex. the water bottle incident but it was in a classroom. us actually having fucking class with each other the next semester. me running away constantly every time i see him now. me buying him a pencil as a present and him still using it (i really want to steal it back). him asking me if i hate him cuz i keep running away and even dragged a friend as i run away from him. him saying "i dont think it's going to work out" and thinking becuase im very outgoing and him being a big introvert was something that would lead to us breaking up, haha but it was just him and him not communicating with me about his feelings. el oh el.

#enhypen fanfiction #enhypen scenarios #enhypen #enhypen x reader #enhypen imagines #enhypen fluff #sunghoon #park sunghoon #sunghoon x reader #sunghoon enhypen #sunghoon fluff #sunghoon imagines #park sunghoon x reader #park sunghoon x you #enhypen sunghoon #enha fluff #enha x reader #enha imagines #enha

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sugudoe · 1 year ago

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𓈒ㅤׂㅤ ✎ ° 𝐖𝐇𝐄𝐍 𝐈 𝐊𝐈𝐒𝐒𝐄𝐃 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐓𝐄𝐀𝐂𝐇𝐄𝐑 ! ࣪₊ 𐙚

✶ 𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: being a kindergarten teacher is something you excel at, you even have two students you treat as if they were your own. not that they mind your endless devotion, much less do their dad, 𝐧𝐚𝐧𝐚𝐦𝐢 𝐤𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐨, if you could spare some attention to him as well.

✶ 𝐚. 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞: papamin!!!!!!! honestly i love papamin so much, i wish i could make that man a daddy. while on the topic, nanami is girl dad code, but for the plot he is sukuna’s and yuuji’s dad. also i loved writing sukuna as a baby, he is such a menace, he definitely was that kid who bite everyone. just posting this because i can’t wait till i post the series i’m making, i had to do something before. divider by: @cafekitsune

✶ 𝐬𝐲𝐥𝐥𝐚𝐛𝐮𝐬: pure fluff / ooc!sukuna / reader has no gender / no curse!au / modern!au / mention of death and grief (minor character)

✶ 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 3.7k

Yuuji thinks you are his princess, and you let him play with the wood horses and gallops around your desk, sometimes you even play pretend with him, accepting the roses he plucks from the school’s garden and sharing your sandwiches with him. He loves you very dearly, it’s not a secret he keeps that you are his favorite teacher, but it is yours that he is one of your favorites as well.

Now Sukuna, his twin brother, is a whole story. The two and a half years old siblings can be perceived as the perfect opposites, because Yuuji is adorable and expressive in good ways, and Sukuna tries to bite your ankles whenever you move near him sitting on the floor. His sharp teeth are always on showcase by his little smirk, he is a menace.

You know Sukuna might sometimes dislike you, not because you have done him terrible wrong, au contrarie, you have been a good teacher, a good human! He tries to grab your hair with his tiny fists and you put him in your lap quickly, staring at him with a cute smile, he thinks you are encouraging him to leave you bald but he ends up not caring anymore, and decides to snuggle against you and sleep. Only to wake up later with a bite on your wrist.

It’s love for your profession and for the children that you don’t report any of this to the superiors or his parent, you think hopefully that you can change his ways, make him better. It does work, credits be given, he used to be worse! He used to bite the other students, now his teeth are all over your and, unfortunately, his twin.

It’s something you try your best to control, gods be good, Yuuji only whines before slapping his brother’s head, and then Sukuna cries and comes to you. You open your arms and again, he is biting you.

“Ow, Kuna!” You move his head away from your skin. “What do you eat to have such sharp teeth, hm?”

He doesn’t answer you, his big eyes are filled with tears and he is wiggling towards any skin of yours to sink his canines.

“C’mere.” You grab him and adjust the baby in your hips, before moving towards the box filled with toys and grabbing a plastic one, you take it to the class bathroom and wash it, while Sukuna sits on the balcony, staring at you with his sad puppy eyes. “You are so cute, y’know that, right?” He nods, which takes you by surprise. “You can not keep biting me anymore, Sukuna, you get this?”

As expected, Sukuna doesn’t answer this time. He only gets what he wants.

“But let’s make a deal, you don’t bite me or Yuuji, you bite this whenever you feel like it, hm?”

Sukuna is not supposed to be with pacifiers anymore, something requested by his parent and passed to you through your boss. So it’s a little secret to let him have the blue whale in his mouth, he bites the thing so deeply that by the end of the week, you have to change it for a red rubber duck.

It’s keeps going like this for a couple more days until you notice the progress being made, Sukuna always has the toy by his gripping hands or in his pockets, and whenever he falls to the ground or gets pushed by a classmate, his little eyebrows crunch into an angry face. You think he is going to jump the kid or run at you and be a little vampire, but instead he grabs his toy and starts to violently munch on it.

It’s adorable, it makes you want to eat him.

But you noticed, obviously you did, how Sukuna has anger issues, and being a baby he has no idea how to control the anger but to externalize it with violence, and you gave him a escape plan. Now, he isn’t so angry anymore, sometimes he just squeezes the little toy, he also doesn’t spend his time with only you or his brother, he makes some new friends such as little Uraume, who follows Sukuna around and both keep sharing their lunches.

You do find one more problem arising, anytime Ijichi, who you learn is their butler, comes to pick the boys, Sukuna cries desperate for having to return his toy. You tried to let him have but the man refuses and your superior reprimanded you once, after catching you trying to give it. The next day, you notice quickly that Yuuji and Sukuna both have little red teeth marks on their arms.

You sigh desperate.

After class is over, few days later, Ijichi is late for the pickup, so you sat both Sukuna (sucking his little toy) and Yuuji (talking your ear off) down. They stop what both were doing and stare at you, one with pure sparkling eyes and the other with a raising eyebrow. You laugh at that.

“My darling cherubs, we need to talk.” You sit on the floor. “Kuna, you are not allowed to keep biting your brother, you know that. And you can’t bite him as well, Yuuji. You have to go to your papa, okay?”

The little one nods at you.

“Sukuna, honey, you can’t bring the duck home, we tried. But you can find another one to bite, hm?” He doesn’t answer, of course, he is two years he is not going on a quest for a rubber toy. “I’ll talk to Ijichi-san, for you, okay buddy?”

It takes you by surprise when Sukuna gets up and moves to sit on your lap, snuggling his face to your chest. When your arms go to close, Yuuji follows his twin and sits on you as well.

“Thank you, sensei.” Kuna’s little voice melts your heart even more, you hug them back instantly.

“I’ll do anything for the both of you.”

You don’t notice the presence behind you, or the fact that it’s been there since you sat down, and payed attention to everything you said, but mostly by how Sukuna went for you instantly and thanked you. The little bundle of angriness has his eyes closed, but his brother stares behind your shoulder and gasp, wiggling out of your touch and running towards the door.

“PAPA!” Yuuji screams making your heart jump. You turn back, staring at the scene. A tall blonde man, with formal clothes, kneels to the floor before opening his arms and grabbing Yuuji on his arms, kissing the pink hair of his baby.

You have heard the gossips towards the twins’s father, how exceptionally good looking he is, most charming and polite man anyone has ever seen or meet. And that he is single.

Of course, because of Ijichi being the one to bring and get the boys and the first teacher-parents’s meeting of the year being in just a few weeks, you haven’t met the man yet, but he here is, Nanami Kento, in all his glory.

You get up with Sukuna at the same time Nanami get up with Yuuji, and you notice right away that in his other hand he holds a bouquet of purple tulips.

“Look, Kuna, your papa is here.” You bounce the sleepy head on your lap, he opens his eyes before smiling a bit, and closing it again. “I think he got pretty tired after the playground today.” You laugh quietly before staring at the man, his eyes on his baby, a small smile on his face as well.

“Pleasure to meet you, Y/n-sensei.” It’s the first thing he says to you, his voice shaking your smile for a bit. “I’m sorry about being so late, the driver got busy with some stuff, so I had to come. I got you this, for the inconvenience.” He presents you the flowers, in your mind, he was going on a date, never in millions thoughts you would expect this.

“Oh, oh! Thank you, they are beautiful.” With your spare hand, you grab the flowers and smell them, smiling sweetly.

“I told papa you like those, sensei.” Yuuji says, with his eyes closed and large smile.

“Thank you, Yuuji, my charming knight.” You put the flowers on your desk before giving a pat to his head. “And thank you again, Mr. Nanami.”

“Again, I’m very sorry. But now, I think it’s time we go, right boys? Your sensei deserves to rest after the two of you.” Nanami grabs Sukuna from your arms, the boy open his eyes again for a second before falling into slumber. You help the male grabbing the twins backpacks and both of you move towards the parking lot.

When Nanami puts the babies in their seats, he turns to you grabbing the bags.

“Thank you for being their teacher, is not an easy job, but they both really like you.”

“It’s my pleasure, really. Sukuna and Yuuji make this job really worth it.” You answer sincerely, the door to the car is closed and the boys can’t hear you.

“I heard what you said to them, about the bites. I’ll get the toys for Sukuna, thank you for caring for him.“ Before Nanami gets into his car, he stops and turns back at you. “Would you need a ride? After all we did kept you here for longer than anticipated.”

You stare at the sky, dark clouds already reaching the sunset orange and pink, even the moon hangs more brightly than ever. You are inclined to accept, but you hold yourself.

“I would, any other day, but there is so much I have to do in the classroom and to grade the kid’s exercises, but thank you for the offer, Mr. Nanami.” You both exchange a smile before you wave at the awake Yuuji, staring at you by the window.

The next day and the others after, surprising everyone, Nanami is the one picking his sons up. His back is always tainted with the sunset from the corridor’s widows whenever he stays at the door, and a dozens of mothers and staff keep staring at him, searching for any opening to create a conversation. You are putting Yuuji’s bear beanie on, when you hear your boss asking Nanami for coffee with the excuse of talking about the boys, you laugh silently before grabbing the twins’s hands and moving towards their dad, giving an scape for him to move away from the woman.

“No need for the coffee ‘date’, the parents reunion with the teachers is this saturday, we all can talk there.” You say a bit loud, enough to send the message across, and all those people ready to jump at the blonde male move away.

“Thank you.” He whispers before grabbing the boys in his arms. “No ride today?”

Every once in a while, after the first time meeting Nanami, he has been asking you if you need a ride, and with a strength you don’t know where came from, you refuse nicely. It’s not that you don’t want, would be stupid to, it’s more for the fact that he is dreamily, you wouldn’t be any better than those who salivate at the sight of him. You could be worse.

“Not today, Mr. Nanami, these two made a mess in the bathroom, although I think Sukuna has a talent for arts, he painted the walls really well.”

“God, you’re joking.” You sign no with your head and the man sighs. “I’ll ask for the price of repair, please don’t worry about it, it’s my kids, I’ll fix it.”

“No need! Seriously, I believe just water and soap and it’ll be fine.” You grab Sukuna’s cheeks and he hides his face in his dad’s chest. “But if not, it’ll be a cute memory in the future, when they move classes or school.”

“I’m not going anywhere.” Yuuji squirms. “We’re staying with you forever, right Papa?”

Oh.

“C’mon, buddy, time to go home.” Nanami laughs his answer, and you move with them, holding their backpacks. It’s a little ritual now, you could say.

You wave them goodbye and return home that day with a slight tremble in your fingers, after this year most likely you wouldn’t see them ever again, and that fact made you terribly sad. You would miss pealing the fruits for Yuuji and being gifted half of it, would miss even the mark bites of Sukuna little mouth, even though he hadn’t been a menace in a long time now.

Admitting, you would miss Nanami and his lovely smile, the way he would ask you for a ride anytime. You should accept it, you know, but could you move on from this little crush you’ve been harboring, if you are meant to never see him again? Doubt it, no one can get over the Nanami Kento.

You sleep with those thoughts, these little moments you had with him and the sweet and gentle and chaotic memories you had with the twins. It’s a bittersweet feeling teachers have, you should be used to it by now, dealing with the fact that the babies don’t stay babies forever, only in your heart and memories. But there is something in that little family that shakes your core, that moves your mind and warms your heart, something that scares you.

Saturday comes but your anxiety stays. You decorate your classroom with a large table filled with charcuterie boards and juices, there is also paintings of the kids hanging by the walls, presents to give to their parents. All of them are on the corridor, you call for one couple after the other, for the intimacy of talking about their children.

You notice how each kid can resemble their parents in a comical and adorable way. Megumi, for example, who has his mom messy hair but his dad scowl, Nobara is energetic like her mom, and sensitive like her daddy who cries when gifted her painting.

You also see how they can be with their babies. Toge’s parents who are elated with your hand signs, and how you explain that you learned it in two months for the boy and has been using and teaching it in your class, for the other students to communicate with the him. Maki’s and Mai’s parents are stiff and bored, and you take notice of that to pay more attention to the girls, help if needed anything.

You do your job perfectly, but your eyes always go searching for a blonde man whenever you go call the next parents. He is not there yet, and you wonder if he won’t come. Maybe job related, maybe he forgot, you try to not be sad.

When you are taking Nanako’s and Mimiko’s fathers to the door, waving them goodbye, you catch sight of a man with beige suit and blue shirt, in his hands another bouquet of purple tulips.

“I told you we should have given something.” Mr. Geto whispers while staring at Nanami.

“Love, that’s not a ‘Thank you for being my kid’s teacher’ bouquet.” Mr. Satoru answers with a smirk your way.

“I miss when you would give me flowers.” Geto answers, his voice low because they are already by the end of the corridor.

“Huh? I gave your flowers last week?!”

Nanami and you are staring at the couple, until their figures disappear and both of you stare at each-other, smiling fondly at first and then laughing a second later.

“I’m guessing these are for me?” You ask when you move inside the classroom, Nanami following behind. You turn to him, and he nods, giving you the bouquet, perfumed perfectly. “Thank you.”

“I’m sorry I was late, the boys wanted to come as well but I had to keep them occupied and tired.” You nod laughing, before pointing at the table in front of your desk, putting your flowers there, he sits and you move towards the wall, grabbing two drawings.

“These are for you.” You sit by his side instead of in front of the man and give him the papers, he has a sweet smile while admiring the drawings. “I asked the class to draw their family, hasn’t had the time to check yet, but I hope it’s better than the one I saw earlier: the girl draw only her sister and their cats.”

“It’s perfect, don’t worry.” Nanami has his eyes on both drawings, side by side. You can tell which is which by the colors and traces, but none other, the art is basically the same. “This is Ijichi in the car, how cute.” Nanami points at the figure in a black suit driving a car besides the house in both paintings. You stares confused at the fifth stick person, besides Nanami and the twins. “Is that…?”

“I think so…” Your hands move to your mouth, hiding your growing smile when you notice characteristics in it that resembles you, specially a rubber duck in your hands, in Sukuna’s drawing. “I’m flattered they consider me family.”

“They are not wrong.” Nanami stares at you now. “That day we meet, you were helping them with one thing I had no idea how.” He moves the drawing to your desk. “I’m not their biological father, don’t know if you know that.” You don’t, so you keep yourself quiet and let him speak. “I was their godfather, been friends with their dad ever since we were little. Itadori Jin, great guy, that’s where they inherited that beautiful pink hair.” Nanami has a sad smile in his lips that break your heart. “He and his wife died in a car crash, first date since the birth of the babies, just two months old. Their grandfather was adamant on keeping them, but he realized he needed my help, so he let me adopt them officially.”

He sighs before grabbing his thighs.

“Recently I told them about their parents, that’s why Sukuna started the biting, his sorrow is physically showing. I tried to help but didn’t knew how, but you did, you handled it better than I could.”

“You are still a great father, they might not have come from you, but they are yours. And you did helped them, Sukuna might have received some slaps from Yuuji, but Yuu always hugged him whenever it became too much, and he listened to me instead of throwing a tantrum.” You hold his arm for a second before removing your hand. “You are raising them very well, Mr. Nanami, it’s not easy to be a parent, but you are doing fine.”

“Thank you, and please call me Kento.” It’s not professional, but you nod.

“Okay… Kento.” You whisper his name like a secret, and you wonder if you feel right, but it tastes like honey in your tongue. It’s just a second of both of you staring at each-other for his eyes to move to your lips. You should move back, but you don’t, nor you can. Instead, your eyes go to his pink lips as well. “We should wrap this up, it’s late, right?”

“Yeah, we should.” But none of you move, eyes moving to eyes and lips, over and over, you wet your lips, he groans and lunges at you. You accept him easily, moving your hands to circle his broad shoulders and touch his neck, while his large hands take your waist.

You shouldn’t be doing this, but it feels wrong to not be doing it. So you allow yourself to be kissed hungrily by Kento.

There is three knocks on the door before you both jump apart, your boss, the principal, makes her way in, eyes shinning at seeing Nanami.

“Mr. Nanami, so good to see you here! Would you like to come and have that coffee we were taking about some days ago?”

Kento looks at you, his hair is a little messy and his mouth is red, he looks even more ravishing than before. You cough awkward, grabbing your flowers, bag and the twins’s drawing before moving to his side.

“I’m so sorry, Principal, but Mr. Nanami is giving me a ride home.” The man has his hands on your back in an instant, moving both of you out of the class. “I see you monday.”

The two of you leave the baffled woman behind, Nanami has an eternal perfect smile charming his face, making you want to kiss him even more. Which you do, when he closes the door he opened for you, and enters the car you kiss him, when you both stop at a red light you kiss him. And when he let you at your house, his hands again in your back, he kisses you.

You are too tempted to bring him inside, even more to have your way with him, but he beats you to it, asking you to go out with him the next day.

It’s just the beginning of your blooming relationship, flowers every week, restaurant dates, kisses at every opportunity. You both keep yourselves occupied and yet reserved. He gives you rides home after most staff and students are gone, the boys happily talking with you all the way to your house, and he leaves you at your door with a peck the babies don’t see.

It’s at your last day of the year, all your students glued to you, crying red faces you promise them to always be there when needed, giving the parents your personal number, they happily accept it. Yuuji and Sukuna are the most devasted, their little hands keep you from moving far away from them, and when Nanami comes to pick them up, Sukuna cries together with his brother, taking you by surprise.

You tell them bye and run to your apartment, where you prepare a whole meal and dress nicely, soon you hear the door knocking. When you open, it takes three stunned seconds before two little babies are running to your arms, screaming happily to see you.

“Now it’s a good time to say, Y/n is staying in our lives.” Nanami says while hugging you, both boys in your arms holding you as well.

“Forever?” Sukuna asks, Yuuji stares at you waiting for the answer.

“Yes, my cherubs, forever.”

#♱ 𓂃 ࣪ ˖ on stage ! ᯤ #nanami kento x reader #nanami kento #nanami kento fluff #nanami x reader #nanami x y/n #jjk x reader #jujutsu fluff #jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jjk nanami #jujutsu nanami #nanami fluff #nanami x you #jjk x y/n #jujutsu kaisen nanami #gege when i catch you gege #papamin au

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skylin-files · 7 months ago

Text

girl code ⋆ na jaemin

pov: your best friend's former situationship started hitting you up. what could go wrong?

pairing: college student!jaemin x college student! yn

featuring! winter of aespa, nct members

note: this is part two. i initially planned for this to be a two-part story, but i decided to divide it into three parts.

i hope you like it; your comments will be highly appreciated. ♡

check part one here: part 1 | part 3 (final)

── .✦

You couldn’t help but be impressed by how focused Jaemin was during class. His attention to detail was striking, and when you glanced over at his notes, you felt a little embarrassed comparing them to your own messier ones. You’d thought you’d only see him during lab sessions, but after recent events, it seemed like you were running into him everywhere on campus.

“All these years in college, and why am I only seeing you now?” you asked once, half-joking, only to be met with a casual shrug and his teasing response about how maybe you weren’t meant to cross paths before. You brushed it off with a laugh, unaware of the sincerity hidden in his words—or that the boy you were getting to know had once been one of your best friend's situationships.

Looking back, it was strange that you and Na Jaemin had never met, especially considering his past situationship with Winter, your best friend, back when she was in her “situationship” phase with him. Then again, Winter never introduced her situationships or talking stages to you—she’d share stories about them but never revealed exactly who they were.

Speaking of Winter, you found yourself reunited once again, this time hanging out at a newly opened café near your university. You couldn’t help but notice, though only briefly, how she seemed to gravitate back to the area, just like that time she showed up at a bar nearby.

“Remember the situationship I told you about?” she asked suddenly, pulling you out of your thoughts.

“Which one?” you replied sincerely, given the sheer number of past situationships she’d mentioned over the years.

“The one I said looks so good—like he’s God’s favorite child,” Winter clarified with a grin. You nodded as the memory resurfaced, unaware that she was, in fact, talking about Na Jaemin—your lab partner.

“Well, he’s actually from your university,” she confessed with a sheepish smile, leaving you to process her words.

“He’s actually the reason I went to that local club near your campus,” she added.

“The club near our university? The night you texted me to pick you up?” you clarified, watching her nod in confirmation.

“What’s the deal, though? He’s a past situationship. Why were you at the club because of him?” you asked, thoroughly puzzled.

“Well, I knew he was going to be there,” Winter admitted.

“We haven’t talked for months now, but I knew he’d be at the club because his best friend is a social media guy—always posting updates about his whereabouts. They’re like a duo, always together,” she explained. You nodded, still a bit confused.

“Okay, but why go there because of him?” you asked.

“Well, after seeing his latest post, I kind of started missing him, you know,” she confessed.

You snorted, immediately catching on to where this was heading. “So, you’re planning to start another situationship stage with him?” you teased, earning a sheepish smile from Winter.

“I’m not sure... maybe if we’re on the same page,” she replied.

You shook your head playfully. “Seriously, you and your situationships. Why not just date the guy?” you suggested, fully focused on her until your phone buzzed with a new text message.

Na Jaemin: "Hey, are you free this Friday afternoon?"

Na Jaemin: "I was wondering if we could start with our lab report."

You smiled at the text, yet another reminder of how responsible a student he was. You quickly sent back a short confirmation for Friday before turning your attention back to Winter.

“So, I’m planning to go to this party on Friday. I heard his best friend, Jeno, is going, so I’m sure he’ll be there too,” Winter said, casually name-dropping the best friend of her situationship.

The name, Jeno, sounded familiar—like you’d heard it somewhere before—but you brushed off the thought and let it pass.

"Well, drink responsibly because I won’t be available to pick you up on Friday. My lab partner and I are working on a report," you said.

"Academics on a Friday night?" Winter grimaced, earning a casual shrug from you.

"It’s better to get things done sooner rather than later," you replied, pausing for a moment. "And... hey, my lab partner, he’s kind of cute," you added, almost unsure if you should’ve said it.

Winter’s eyes widened in shock. "Did my man-hater best friend just call a boy cute?" she squealed.

"I’m not a man-hater!" you protested.

"Okay, Ms. ‘Boys would do me no good and only be a distraction,’" she teased.

"I just said he’s cute," you defended, shaking your head.

Oh, how small the world was—two best friends having two entirely different conversations, neither realizing they were both talking about the same boy.

── .✦

It had been a productive Friday night with Jaemin, the two of you managing to finish almost half of your lab report. Deciding to grab a bite, you headed to a nearby diner Jaemin had recommended. On the way, you passed by a group of teenagers dressed as if they were heading to a club.

“I hate clubs,” Jaemin commented casually, prompting you to raise a brow.

“But you were at a club on a school night when I picked up Winter,” you replied, not noticing the slight wince Jaemin made at the mention of your best friend’s name.

“My best friend likes partying. That boy used to be such a homebody, but the college scene changed him. It’s not a big deal, though—he’s enjoying himself, and that’s his life,” Jaemin shared, earning a nod from you.

“So, you go to parties just to accompany him?” you asked, and Jaemin nodded in response.

“He’s actually going to a party tonight. Good thing I’m occupied,” Jaemin said with a playful wink, earning a playful eye roll from you.

Suddenly, Winter came to mind. “Winter—she’s going to a party tonight too,” you said, and Jaemin fell silent, seemingly waiting for you to say more.

You didn’t intend to overshare, but the conversation with Jaemin flowed so easily that your words just came out.

“She went to the party to see her past situationship. She wants to get back with him. Honestly, I’m starting to genuinely worry about her choices in the dating scene,” you said.

Jaemin suddenly had a feeling you were talking about him, but he hesitated. He knew Winter was the type of girl who had a lot of different situationships, which made him second-guess his assumption.

“He’s actually from our university,” you added, confirming Jaemin’s suspicions.

“Did she consider if the guy wanted to get back with her too?” Jaemin asked, earning a hum of acknowledgment from you.

“I’m not sure. I don’t know who the guy is or why their situationship ended,” you replied.

There was a brief silence, as Jaemin debated whether to share what was on his mind. Finally, he spoke.

“Well, I used to have a situationship too,” Jaemin said.

You weren’t expecting him to open about his own dating life, but you listened attentively. It wasn’t entirely surprising—he was, after all, a handsome guy.

“That was my first and last, though. I don’t want to go through it again. It’s useless. A waste of time. It doesn’t do you any good,” he continued, causing you to grin. Finally, someone who agreed with you.

“Right? How could people act like they’re more than friends but less than lovers, or even do couple things just to call it casual?” you said. Jaemin couldn’t help but smile at your firm stance.

“I didn’t expect it to end like that, you know? The moment I wanted to take things seriously, the moment I wanted to court the girl properly, she cut me off,” Jaemin admitted.

You felt sympathy for him.

“One of the worst decisions ever. I didn’t know what to do back then,” he added.

“That’s okay, at least now you know that situationships aren’t for you,” you said, earning a nod from Jaemin.

“And besides, this is probably your first time being an adult, so you won’t always know what to do,” you added, your words offering comfort. Jaemin felt that not going to another party with Jeno tonight was the best decision he’d made in a while.

── .✦

It was another day on campus during lunch break. You were sitting with Mark and Haechan at the cafeteria, scrolling through your social media when you came across photos from Winter’s party last Friday night. Your best friend looked stunning, a natural beauty, and you smiled as you admired her, noticing how happy she appeared in the pictures.

"I wonder if she ran into her situationship," you muttered to yourself.

Suddenly, Haechan cleared his throat, a little louder than usual, causing you to give him a puzzled look. He pointed toward a specific direction, and as you followed his gaze, you spotted Jaemin walking toward your table.

"Hey," he said, flashing you a charming grin.

"Hey," you responded, meeting his gaze.

His smile widened, and Mark, who was seated at the table with you, looked slightly confused, wondering who the boy was. Meanwhile, Haechan wasn’t being very subtle, eyeing both of you closely.

"I was wondering if you're free this Friday?" Jaemin asked.

Mark nearly choked on his noodles upon hearing the question, while Haechan was equally surprised, considering you usually didn’t prioritize dating.

"Why? Are we going to continue the project?" you asked, only to see Mark and Haechan slump in disappointment, thinking it was just about the project. However, they quickly perked up again when Jaemin spoke.

"No, actually, there’s this art exhibit I wanted to go to. I’m not sure if you’re into that, but..." Jaemin paused, pulling out two tickets from his wallet. "I have two tickets," he said, hoping you wouldn’t turn him down.

You were taken aback. You’d spent a fair amount of time with Jaemin around campus, but outside of that? Not much. Haechan and Mark were exchanging eager nudges under the table, clearly anticipating your response.

"Friday night, huh?" you said, looking at Jaemin.

He hummed in response.

"Is this just another one of your tricks to avoid going with your best friend to a party?" you joked, earning a laugh from Jaemin. Even his laugh was charming.

"Maybe," he said with a playful grin. "But I think this invitation is more of a 'I want to spend time with you, no academic work involved.' So, will you go with me?"

You smiled back at him. "Sure, I’d love to, Jaemin."

── .✦

You were going out with Jaemin, but was it really a date, or just a casual hangout to check out an art exhibit? You weren’t sure, but it felt different from the usual hangouts you had with him, Haechan, or Mark.

It was your first time going out with a boy, and despite the diner trip you had with him the previous night, this felt new. To be honest, you didn’t know how to feel—excited, nervous, unsure. You found yourself questioning whether it was the right thing to do.

"One hangout won’t distract you from your academics. Ms. ‘Boys won’t do me good’," Winter teased over the phone.

"Sorry, I’m not used to going out with boys like you," you muttered, making Winter wince on the other end.

"Good gracious, relax, my love! There’s nothing to worry about! Just be yourself, have fun, it’s your first date since... well, forever!" she exclaimed.

"But of course, when I say, ‘be yourself,’ dressing in a hoodie and pants is not what I mean.," Winter added, making you groan.

"You better send me the outfit before the date! I need to approve," she laughed, clearly excited for you.

From her voice, you could tell she was genuinely happy for you. Little did she know, this was just the beginning, and things were about to change in ways she never expected.

── .✦

You were incredibly nervous while waiting for Jaemin to pick you up. You had suggested meeting him at the art exhibit, but he insisted on picking you up. Your hands were sweating, but when Jaemin finally arrived at your doorstep with a smile on his face, all of your anxiety seemed to vanish. His presence had a calming effect on you.

The ride to the exhibit was short, and once you arrived, you were in awe of the incredible pieces on display. Jaemin noticed the excitement in your eyes and felt relieved that you were genuinely enjoying the experience, just like he did.

Jaemin had his camera with him, a hobby he had mentioned before. To your surprise, he was actually a talented photographer. He offered to take your photo next to one of the paintings. You were shy at first, but his encouraging smile made you feel at ease, and you posed for the picture.

When you saw the photo, you were pleasantly surprised—it turned out great, and you looked good. You weren’t as photogenic as Winter, but Jaemin’s photo made you feel like you could be.

“I look good,” you said, grinning like a child. Jaemin nodded, smiling back at you.

Just then, a random stranger, an older woman, commented, “They say the way someone photographs you says a lot about how they feel about you.” Both you and Jaemin turned to look at her, caught off guard by her remark.

The woman chuckled at your surprised expressions and asked, “I’m not a professional photographer, but would you like me to take a photo of both of you?”

You and Jaemin exchanged a smile and replied, “Yes, please.”

── .✦

It was a dull Friday night for Winter. She decided to stay in and take a break from the party scene for just one night. While strolling through her social media, she came across a post from Jeno, Jaemin’s best friend. He was at another party.

"I wonder if Jaemin's with him this time," she muttered, remembering how she had met Jeno at the party last Friday but Jaemin was nowhere to be found. With a sigh, Winter decided to check Jaemin’s social media. He wasn’t the most active online, but to her surprise, Jaemin had posted something just a few minutes ago.

The post read: "The way someone photographs you reveals a lot about how they feel about you."

The post was accompanied by photos from an art exhibit. Winter lazily scrolled through the pictures, not paying much attention to the artwork, until she reached the last one.

It was a photo of Jaemin with you, her best friend.

A chill ran through her as she pieced everything together, suddenly realizing that her situationship and your lab partner involved the same person all along—Na Jaemin.

── .✦

"What does it mean when a guy doesn't post me on his social media, but then posts the next girl he's seeing after just one date?" Winter asked out of the blue.

You two were once again at the café near your university, but this time, Haechan had joined you.

Your eyebrows raised at her question, finding it odd and sensing something was off about her lately. "Maybe he wasn't that serious about you back then?" you suggested.

Winter's blood began to boil at your response. "And he's serious about the new girl just because he posted her?" she snapped, Haechan giving her a side-eye at the sharpness in her tone.

"Yeah? It's possible?" you said, confused by her irritated and dejected reaction.

"It was just a photo dump, apparently their picture just made the cut," Winter explained, though she knew deep down her statement wasn't entirely accurate, especially considering what she knew about Jaemin.

Haechan raised an eyebrow and decided to comment, "Why are you mad about it, though? Do you post any guy on your social media?" he asked, earning a small "no" from Winter.

"And you expect them, or this person, to post you?" Haechan remarked, feeling that the conversation was a bit immature.

Winter muttered softly, only for herself to hear, "The girl he posted never posted him either."

She glanced at you, her best friend, feeling guilty for her emotions. Why was she even upset? She and Jaemin were never a thing, and besides, she had cut him off when he wanted to take things seriously.

It was her own fault for letting someone like Jaemin go.

"By the way, how was your date?" Winter asked, trying her best to offer a sincere smile.

"I had fun," you replied almost immediately, while Haechan smirked, typing on his laptop.

"Oh, yes, she did. And it wasn’t just a friendly date, either. They were holding hands, for God’s sake," Haechan added.

Winter felt like she had been splashed with cold water upon hearing that. "We used to hold hands too," Winter muttered to herself.

"Wait," you said, catching both Winter and Haechan’s attention. "You said you both knew each other," you recalled, remembering the scene from the club. "Jaemin, Na Jaemin. You know him, right? How could I have missed this? He’s the guy I’ve been telling you about," you said, showing Winter a picture of you and Jaemin—the same one Jaemin had posted on his social media.

"Oh, yeah, we know each other," Winter said, clenching her hands under the table. "You guys really do look good together," she added.

"You mean it?" you asked, recalling the first time Winter mentioned that you and Jaemin looked good together, which was that night at the local club when she had been drunk.

"Yup," Winter replied, her face adorned with a fake smile.

Meanwhile, on campus, Mark was frantically processing the information he had just discovered. While strolling through social media, he came across a 2024 photo dump from Jeno, Jaemin’s best friend and Mark’s classmate. The post was a bit late, given that the new year had already passed.

As Mark continued scrolling, he found a group photo that made his eyes widen in shock. In the photo was Jaemin, the guy he knew you had recently gone on a date with, and right beside him was Winter, your best friend. But it wasn’t just any photo; Winter was leaning on Jaemin in a way that felt quite intimate. Mark immediately felt uneasy and forwarded the photo to Haechan.

When Haechan saw the photo, everything clicked. He instantly understood what was going on, piecing it all together. Staring at Winter intently, Haechan now knew exactly who she had been talking about, why she had been acting so strange, and the reason behind her fake smile.

── .✦

Later that day, you returned home with a smile on your face. Your lab report with Jaemin was complete, and you both had done well. After class, you decided to grab dessert, and Jaemin even drove you home.

As you walked in, you couldn’t help but start questioning what was going on between the two of you. Your usual "guys won’t do me any good" mantra was slowly fading away, and you found yourself worried this might end up like the situation with your best friend, Winter. But then you recalled the conversation you had with Jaemin about situationships, which gave you some reassurance that things wouldn’t go down that road.

Settling in at home, you started scrolling through your phone, laughing at memes on your timeline. But then you realized you hadn’t come across any of Winter’s posts.

"Is she not home yet?" you muttered to yourself.

It was unusual for Winter not to be active on social media since she was always posting. Without thinking, you checked her profile, a bad feeling settling in your stomach. When you opened her page, your heart dropped. You stared at her profile for a moment, then decided to call her.

"Hello?" she answered, her voice cold.

"Winter," you said, your voice tight.

"Yes? Do you need something? I have cheer practice soon," she replied, her tone distant.

"Winter, why did you soft block me on your social media?" you asked, a knot forming in your chest.

There was a long silence on the other end. "I'm sorry, but I have cheer in a bit. I can’t talk about this right now," she said before hanging up.

You were stunned. This wasn’t the Winter you knew. She never avoided a conversation, no matter how big or small the issue.

Your grip on your phone tightened, and then a notification popped up.

It was from Mark.

He had sent you a photo—a group photo, to be exact. But this wasn’t just any group picture. In it, Jaemin and Winter stood side by side, looking far too intimate for comfort.

── .✦

tags: @carelessshootanonymous @taliaamara @zgzgzh @tinyzen @urlocalbeaner5 @profoundruinsunknown

let me know if you want to be tagged in part three/the last part. 𓂃۶ৎ