Cheollollipop 🍒

27 | infp | she/her

[cheollollipop]

w e l c o m e ♡ — — — — ˗ˋ ୨୧ ˊ˗ — — — — ♡ ꒰ [key] ⌗ °. ♡ ⸝⸝ [she/her] ꒱ 27

♯┆masterlist .ᐟ

"Say the name, SEVENTEEN!”

"8 makes 1 team."

"To the world, 여기는 NCT!"

“CONNECT! Hello, we are ENHYPEN!”

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[cheollollipop]

i cant wait for terminal velocityyy 😍 do u have a sched for when you'll post it? love ur works!!

hello anon!! it’s finished i promise im not putting it off. i just dont know how to break it up to post it im figuring it out i promise 💔💔💔 the wc is well over 20k any tips?

also tysm 🫰🏼🫰🏼

[cheollollipop]

mark lee i am absolutely bawling my fucking eyes out.

[cheollollipop]

terminal velocity. | k. mingyu (teaser)

genre: angst

wc: 610

Monday morning

It's that kind of cold that sinks in and settles. Not the quick, biting kind, but the one that lives in your ribs and makes the silence feel like a physical thing.

I open the door before he even knocks.

Mingyu's there, hood up, his breath fogging the air. He's holding her like he's scared she'll break. Little shoulders hunched under a too big coat, hair mussed, the stuffed bear tucked under her chin. She looks better. Still the way she always does when she thinks the world is safe, because Dad is holding it together.

My chest twists. "Hey, baby," I whisper and reach for her. She folds into me like everything still fits.

"She had breakfast," Mingyu says without looking at me. Flat. Careful. "No fever. Took her meds last night."

"Okay." My fingers smooth the collar of her coat. "Thank you."

He nods once, already stepping back toward the car.

"Mingyu—" I shift her weight and set her down gently. "Can we—"

"Not now," he says.

"You always say that." I force my voice steady. It breaks anyway.

He looks past me, like my shape is a smudge in the doorway. "Because now is not the time."

"When is it going to be the time?" The words come out thin but sharp. "Because I've been trying for weeks."

He turns, like leaving is the only answer he knows how to give.

Before he can reach the porch, I say, "Sweetheart, go put on cartoons, okay? Mommy will be there soon." Her little feet patter away. I can hear the TV click to life. The theme song is thin through the walls.

He moves to leave. I step in his path and my hand lands on the doorframe.

"Don't," I say. Simple. Final.

"YN—"

"No." I cut him off. My throat is raw. "You can't keep walking away from me."

"Move." He says it low, the kind of single syllable that used to be reserved for track calls and pit lane orders.

"No." My breath catches. "I know I broke you. I know I lied. I know I did the thing that's tearing us up. If I could pick up every tiny shard and put them back where they belong, I would. I would undo this in a heartbeat. But I can't." My hands shake on the doorframe. "All I can do is try."

His jaw tightens. For a second he's only a set of angles, the line of his nose, the cut of his cheek. Then he looks at me, properly, and I see the exhaustion under everything. The late nights, the rehearsed calm, the way his eyes have been hollowed out by a thousand small betrayals.

"You don't get to keep walking away and then expect me to be the same person waiting on the other side," he says finally, each word a careful step away from whatever softness he might have given me once. "You lied to my face for years, YN." His voice breaks on the last word. "You used our life as camouflage."

"My god, Mingyu—" I step forward, my hands are empty. "I didn't do it to hurt you. I did it because I was scared. Scared of failing. Scared of losing what Dad left. Scared of being nothing but 'your wife' in their mouths. I thought I could protect all of it and protect you and us and—"

"You thought for yourself," he cuts in, bitter and clean. "You acted for yourself. You didn't just withhold information YN, you decided for both of us. That's not protection. That's betrayal."

It's not the first time he's said that word, but tonight it lands heavier.

Tears sting behind my eyes. "Do you want a divorce?" I hear the question fall out of me like a stone.

[cheollollipop]

interlude: the code. | mark lee.

genre: fake text. smau. spidermark au. fluff.

pairing: spider man mark x f. reader

rating: PG

🕸️ author's note!

I wanted to try something new. this is my first ever smau so im sorry if it's boring and messy! im just messing around with new ideas. I hope you enjoy! happy reading(:

「 🕷️masterlist🕷️ 」

[k-vanity]

ᐟ.⭑ THE CELEBRATION COLUMN ⭑.ᐟ

Today, K-Vanity Magazine would like to reserve this section to highlight one of our members. Before we continue any further, we’d like to wish the ever so talented and amazing Key @cheollollipop a very Happy Birthday!! May your day be filled with joy and positivity.

—K-Vanity Staff

────୨ৎ────────୨ৎ────────୨ৎ────────୨ৎ────────୨ৎ

[cheollollipop]

ITS MY BIRTHDAYYYYY (and jungwoooooo)

[cheollollipop]

ice prince. | p. sunghoon

genre: fluff. angst. wc: 6.3k

pairing: figure skater sunghoon x figure skater f. reader

rating/warnings: PG. Someone gets injured.

⛸️ author’s note! be prepared to be sick of me as I will continue to pump out stories lmfao. here's my first sunghoon one shot!

The first time I met Park Sunghoon, I was twelve years old and violently humbled. The rink in Busan was too crowded that afternoon. Too many skaters cutting unpredictable paths, too many coaches barking corrections, too many parents watching like their children were already Olympians. I remember pushing into a backward crossover when it happened.

A flash of black gloves. A blade where it shouldn't have been. Impact. The ice slammed into my hip so hard stars burst across my vision. Someone gasped. Someone laughed.

And then a shadow fell over me. "Get up."

No apology or panic. Just a boy with silver bright focus in his eyes and posture so straight it felt offensive.

I blinked up at him. "Did you just tell me to get up?"

"You're in the way."

The audacity. I ignored his hand, grabbed the boards, and hauled myself upright.

"You clipped me."

"You drifted."

"You invaded my pattern!"

"You don't have one," he replied calmly.

I stared at him. He stared back like I was a problem he intended to solve.

"What's your name?" I snapped.

"Sunghoon."

"Well, Sunghoon," I said, brushing frost off my leggings, "try not to skate like the rink belongs to your ancestors."

Something almost, almost, like amusement flickered across his face. Then he pushed off and skated away. Smooth. Centered. Annoyingly perfect.

I watched him jump fifteen minutes later. Triple toe... At twelve... I decided right then that I hated him.

Naturally, our coaches announced a week later that we would be training at the same elite program. Because the universe enjoys comedy.

Years passed. Edges sharpened, jumps multiplied, and somehow, Park Sunghoon became the axis my skating world spun around. Not because I wanted it to, but because he refused to lose. And I refused to be second.

We didn't talk much back then. We competed, silently. Relentlessly. Scoreboards became our conversation. Until high school complicated everything. Because now there were hallways and whispers. And people who had never stepped on ice suddenly treating our rivalry like primetime entertainment.

"Sunghoon is basically royalty," Layla informed me one morning.

We were leaning against my locker while Jake attempted to spin a textbook on one finger. It smacked into the floor.

Heeseung sighed. "Graceful."

"He is not royalty," I said.

"He glides like he's being carried by invisible servants," she continued.

Jake nodded solemnly. "I would also carry him."

"You're all embarrassing."

"Girls are already planning hypothetical weddings," Layla added.

I rolled my eyes. "Tell them to aim higher. Marriage is a tax bracket."

Just then, the hallway shifted.

You could always feel when Sunghoon entered a space. Like the air instinctively made room. He walked past with Jungwon, Sunoo, and Ni-ki orbiting nearby. Ni-ki spotted me first.

"Oh look," he called. "Your favorite person."

Sunghoon didn't break stride. But his eyes flicked toward me. Brief.

A girl near the lockers whispered loudly to her friend, "She's good... but not Sunghoon good."

I shut my locker with surgical calm. Turned and smiled sweetly.

"You're right," I said. "I have personality." Jake wheezed.

Sunghoon's mouth twitched as I pretended not to notice.

If school was noise, the rink was truth. No whispers survived the sound of blades. That afternoon, I was drilling my triple loop. Again. And again.

And again.

"Stop muscling it," my coach warned.

"I'm not."

"You are."

I reset at center ice. Breathed. Pushed. Took off. Landed. Clean.

A slow clap echoed from the boards. I didn't have to look.

"Lose your gloves, Park?" I called.

"You telegraph your entrance," he replied.

"You exist too loudly."

"I barely speak."

"Exactly." I skated toward him. Too close.

He smelled faintly like cold air and cedar. Annoying detail to notice.

"You're adding it to your free skate," he said.

"Are you stalking my choreography?"

"You drilled it fourteen times yesterday."

"So you were watching."

"The entire rink was watching. You nearly took out a coach."

"Collateral damage builds character."

His mouth twitched again. I hated when he almost smiled.

"You rush when you're frustrated," he said quietly.

"And you're bossy when you're breathing."

"I don't breathe loudly."

"You do when you're losing."

"I don't lose."

I leaned closer, "everyone loses."

His gaze dropped briefly to my mouth. Then back to my eyes, "not when it matters." The air shifted.

For a second, it felt like the rink had disappeared. Until Ni-ki's voice shattered it.

"JUST DATE ALREADY!"

I shoved Sunghoon backward. "Dream on."

He steadied instantly. Of course he did. Perfect balance. Perfect everything.

I skated away before my pulse could betray me.

School was worse. Popularity is strange when it finds you through talent. People admire you from a distance but also dissect you like you're a specimen. Especially when there's a boy involved. Because at the rink, at least we had a legitimate reason to orbit each other. At school, people invented them.

I was at my locker when a girl I vaguely recognized drifted over with two of her friends. The air shifted into something artificially sweet.

"YN," she began, tilting her head. "Can I ask you something?"

"Depends," I said. "Will it waste my time?"

Her smile tightened. "Do you ever feel weird? Competing with Sunghoon when... you know."

"When what?"

"Well," she glanced at her friends, "he's just on another level."

I closed my locker slowly. Precision matters in moments like this.

"So are penthouses," I replied. "Doesn't mean the ground floor isn't valuable." One of the friends snorted.

The girl pressed on. "People just think you're... chasing him."

I slung my bag over my shoulder. "Sweetheart," I said gently, "if I were chasing him, he'd know."

Then Jake's delighted cackle echoed down the hall, Heeseung hid a grin behind his hand, and Layla whispered, "Iconic."

As we turned the corner, I nearly walked straight into a wall of black hoodie.

Sunghoon. He had definitely heard that. Heat crept up my neck. He studied me for a second, "you're very loud for someone who claims not to care."

"I don't care," I said. "I multitask."

He leaned closer, voice low enough that only I could hear. "You should. Sectionals are in two weeks."

Electricity zipped down my spine.

"I'm aware."

"Don't hold back on the loop."

"Don't fall on your axel."

His eyes sharpened. Then, softly, "I never fall."

"Everyone falls."

"Not me."

I stepped closer, matching his tone. Good. I'd hate to win because you slipped."

Something flickered between us.

Not anger.

Something warmer. Dangerous. He straightened first.

Coward.

-

People assume competitive skaters spend every waking second thinking about ice.

We don't.

Sometimes we think about food.

Specifically pancakes.

"You're eating like you just came back from war," Layla observed.

"I burned twelve hundred calories yesterday."

Jake looked personally offended. "I burned six hundred sitting on my couch."

"You don't burn calories sitting."

"Says you," he mumbled.

Heeseung slid into the booth across from me, hair still damp from morning practice.

"You have choreography run through after school, right?"

"Unfortunately."

He nodded toward my plate. "Eat more."

"I like how everyone suddenly becomes my nutritionist."

Layla sipped her iced coffee. "We care about your survival."

The bell over the diner door chimed.

Cold air swept in and without looking, I knew.

You always know when someone unwanted has entered your atmosphere.

Jake groaned. "Universe, why."

I turned.

Sunghoon stepped inside with Jungwon and Sunoo, shrugging off his coat. Ni-ki trailed behind, already scanning for chaos.

"Of all the diners in the city," I mutter.

Layla leaned across the table. "Do not look now."

"I already looked."

"He looks illegal in that sweater," she whispered.

"Control yourself."

"Never."

Ni-ki spotted us first and his grin widened like a warning sign.

"Well well," he called. "The opposition."

"I don't remember declaring war," I said.

"You exist," he replied. "That's enough."

Sunghoon approached last. Always composed.

His gaze flicked briefly to my plate, "you're carb loading."

"Observant."

"You forget to eat when you're nervous."

"I'm not nervous."

"You ordered three pancakes."

"Because I wanted three pancakes."

Then Jungwon asked politely, "Can we join? Everywhere else is full."

There were at least four empty tables.

Traitorous diner layout.

Layla kicked me under the table.

"Of course," she chirped.

Chairs scraped, space shrank. Sunghoon sat across from me, naturally. The waitress arrived and orders were placed. Normal conversation began.

And yet...

Awareness hummed beneath my skin.

"So," Sunoo said brightly, "ready for sectionals?"

Jake answered for me. "She's going to terrify the judges."

"I already do," I corrected.

Ni-ki leaned forward. "Sunghoon hasn't stopped talking about your loop."

My fork froze midair.

Sunghoon shot him a look sharp enough to shave ice.

"You discuss me?" I asked lightly.

"Only when analyzing threats."

"Flattered."

He held my gaze for a second longer than necessary. Then looked down at his coffee.

Again. Coward.

And the conversation drifted.

Classes, teachers, Ni-ki attempting a quadruple and nearly inventing a new method of death.

At some point, Jake started arguing with Jungwon about music, Layla and Sunoo debated whether cereal counted as soup, and Heeseung quietly stole half my stack.

Normal.

Warm.

Almost... easy.

Then it happened.

I reached for the syrup at the exact moment Sunghoon did.

Our fingers collided.

Static shot up my arm.

We both pulled back instantly.

"Sorry," he said.

"Your hand is freezing," he added before thinking.

"So is yours."

Neither of us reached for the syrup again.

Layla watched this like it was premium television.

I kicked her.

Hard.

She looked delighted.

Later that afternoon, the rink was quieter than usual.

Golden light spilled through the high windows, turning the ice into something almost translucent.

I stayed after choreography to run jumps.

Again.

Again.

Again.

"You're overtraining."

I didn't turn.

"Do you appear everywhere like a haunting?"

"You fell twice."

"I'm experimenting."

"With gravity?"

I reset at center.

Launched.

Landed.

Not perfect. Not terrible.

"You rush when you're angry," he said.

"I'm not angry."

"You're stabbing the ice."

I pushed toward the boards, breath fogging.

"Why do you care?" The question slipped out sharper than intended.

Silence.

Then the soft scrape of blades approaching. When I looked up, he was closer than expected.

"I care about the quality of my competition," he said evenly.

I laughed once. "Right."

But something in his expression... Shifted.

Less armor and more truth.

"You make me better," he continued.

There it was again.

That confession shaped thing he kept dropping between us like neither of us noticed.

I swallowed.

"You're already the best."

He shook his head.

"Not when you skate like that."

Heat climbed my neck.

Annoying reaction.

"Don't romanticize my triple loop."

"I'm not."

He hesitated.

Then, quieter, "you skate like you're trying to outrun something."

The air stilled. No one had ever said that out loud. Because no one had ever noticed.

"Maybe I am," I said lightly.

"What?"

I met his eyes. "Second place."

For a moment, he just looked at me.

Not competitive. Just... looking. Then he did something catastrophic. He reached out and adjusted the lace at the top of my skate where it had loosened.

Gentle.

My brain forgot every known language.

"There," he said.

"You didn't have to—"

"You would've rolled your ankle."

Our hands brushed when he pulled away.

Electric. Again.

We both noticed and then we both pretended we didn't. After a second, he stepped back. Distance restored, armor back on.

"Don't get injured before sectionals," he said.

"Bossy."

"Practical."

I tilted my head.

"You'd miss me."

"I'd miss the challenge."

Liar.

But I didn't call him on it. Because my pulse was still misbehaving.

That night, we all ended up at Jake's house. Supposedly to study.

No one studied.

Layla sprawled across the carpet, Heeseung was half asleep against the couch, Jake attempted to cook and nearly triggered a fire alarm. I laughed so hard my ribs hurt. For once... I wasn't thinking about jumps, or scores.

Or Sunghoon.

Until my phone buzzed.

Unknown number Did you re-tie your skates when you got home?

I stared at the screen.

My stomach flipped.

Me Sunghoon?

Unknown number You left your guards at the rink.

I looked down.

He was right.

Annoyingly right.

Me So you stole my number from the registration sheet?

Sunghoon I prefer "resourceful."

I smiled before I could stop myself. Dangerous development.

Me Yes, mom. I re-tied them.

Three dots appeared.

Disappeared.

Appeared again.

Finally:

Sunghoon Don't overtrain this week.

I typed back before thinking.

Me Worried about me?

Sunghoon Worried about my gold medal.

I laughed softly.

Me Liar.

But something warm settled in my chest anyway.

Layla peeked over. "Why are you smiling at your phone like that?"

"I'm not."

"You are."

She gasped. "IS IT SUNGHOON?"

"Lower your voice!"

Jake bolted upright. "IT'S SUNGHOON??"

"I hate all of you."

Heeseung cracked one eye open.

"Took you long enough."

Enough for what? I didn't ask. Because some questions feel too fragile when spoken aloud.

Later, as I lay in bed staring at the ceiling, one thought drifted through me. For years, rivalry had been sharp. Understandable. But lately... It was softening at the edges. Blurring into something far more dangerous. Something that made my chest feel too tight. Something that made me wonder... When he looks at me...

Is he still seeing his rival? Or is he starting to see me?

And worse.

Was I already seeing him?

-

There are two versions of me.

The one people see.

And the one that exists only on the ice.

At school, I am controlled. Quick-tongued. Untouchable.

At the rink...

I am hunger sharpened into human form.

Sectionals sat two weeks away, glowing on the horizon like something inevitable. Which meant the rink had become less a training space and more a battlefield politely pretending to be frozen water.

I arrived early that morning expecting quiet. Instead, music pulsed through the speakers. A boy I vaguely recognized from another club cut across the ice with theatrical flair, hair falling perfectly into his eyes as he landed a dramatic double. He noticed me watching. Skated over immediately. Of course he did.

"You're YN, right?"

I nodded once.

"Minjae," he said, offering a gloved hand. "I've seen your loop. It's insane."

"Thank you."

"You heading to sectionals?"

"Yes."

He grinned. "Guess we're competition."

"Guess so."

But he didn't skate away.

Instead, he lingered.

"I was wondering... do you want to run a few edges together? Might be fun."

Before I could answer,  a shadow passed over the ice. Cold. Precise.

Sunghoon.

He didn't look at me. Didn't acknowledge Minjae. He simply pushed into a massive triple lutz directly between us. The landing cracked like thunder. Minjae flinched. I bit the inside of my cheek to stop a smile. Subtlety has never been one of Sunghoon's strengths.

"You cut me off," Minjae said.

Sunghoon finally turned.

"I didn't see you."

A lie so blatant it glittered.

Minjae bristled. "Maybe watch where you're going."

Sunghoon tilted his head slightly.

"Maybe don't stop in the middle of someone's entry path."

The temperature on the rink dropped ten degrees.

I sighed. "Park." His gaze flicked to me.

"Don't start territorial battles before nine a.m."

"I'm not territorial."

Minjae muttered something about ego and skated off.

Sunghoon watched him go, jaw tight.

"You could've decapitated him," I said.

"He was distracting you."

The words slipped out before he could catch them. We both froze. I folded my arms slowly.

"Distracting me."

"You have choreography."

"I can handle a conversation."

"I know."

But he still looked irritated. Possessive, even. A strange warmth curled low in my stomach. Dangerous.

"You jealous?" I asked lightly.

His eyes snapped to mine. "No." Too fast.

I hummed. "Sounded like it."

"I don't get jealous."

"Everyone gets jealous."

"I don't."

"Sure."

Silence stretched.

Then he said quietly, "you shouldn't waste focus this week."

Not jealousy. Concern. Which is worse.

I pushed off before my pulse could betray me.

But I felt his gaze follow.

Always.

The fall happened three days later.

Not dramatic. Just wrong timing on a triple flip. My blade caught the tiniest ridge. My ankle twisted a bit.  Pain flared hot enough to steal the air from my lungs. I stayed down longer than I should have. Ice is not forgiving.

"YN."

The voice came fast. Closer than expected. By the time I pushed up on my elbows, Sunghoon was already there, dropping to one knee.

"When did you start teleporting?" I muttered.

"Don't move."

"I'm fine."

"You're not." He reached for my skate and my breath hitched.

"Permission would be nice."

"Can you put weight on it?"

I tried. Pain sparked and I inhaled sharply.

His jaw tightened. Without asking again, he unlaced my skate with efficient hands. His fingers were steady. Careful. Too careful for someone who supposedly only cared about competition.

"You should sit out today."

"Absolutely not."

"You're limping."

"I've skated through worse."

"That doesn't make it smart."

"I don't recall appointing you my decision maker."

His eyes lifted to mine and something in them shifted. Not irritation, but fear.

"You don't get to be reckless right now," he said quietly.

The softness startled me more than the fall.

"Why do you care so much?" I asked before I could stop myself.

"Because if you're not on the ice..."

His voice lowered.

"...it's not the same."

Oh.

Oh.

The air between us changed shape.

I looked away first.

Fuck. Coward.

He helped me stand. His hand stayed at my elbow longer than necessary. Neither of us mentioned it.

Coach announced it like it was harmless.

"Pairs edge drill today. Builds awareness."

Groans echoed.

I didn't look up until she added:

"YN with Sunghoon."

For fucksake. 

We lined up at center ice. Our arms brushed.

"Try not to trip me," I said.

"You'd enjoy the drama."

"Immensely."

We pushed off together. Matching edges.

Left. Right. Cross. Again.

Our timing clicked faster than it should have. Annoyingly natural.

"You're anticipating," he murmured.

"So are you."

"Don't rush the turn."

"Don't coach me."

His hand slid briefly to my waist to steady the rotation. Every nerve in my body lit up. We separated too quickly. Pretended nothing happened. On the next pass, our shoulders aligned perfectly. Blades carving twin arcs.

For a moment, it felt less like a drill. More like a conversation without words.

Coach clapped once. "See? When you stop trying to outdo each other, you're excellent."

We both recoiled slightly. Never repeat that sentence. 

Sunghoon leaned closer.

"If we ever had to pair skate..."

"We'd kill each other."

"...we'd win."

I hated that he might be right.

-

I couldn't sleep.

Pre competition energy buzzed under my skin. So I did what I always do.

I went to the rink.

The building hummed quietly after hours, lights dimmed to a silver glow that made the ice look endless. I stepped onto it and exhaled.

Freedom. No expectations. No watching eyes. Just motion.

I didn't hear the door open. Didn't notice the second set of blades until a familiar voice drifted across the quiet.

"Couldn't sleep?"

I turned.

Hair soft without styling. Sweatpants instead of training gear. Human, for once.

"You haunt this place," I said.

"You do too."

He skated closer.

"I come here when the noise gets loud," he admitted.

The confession felt fragile.

"I come here when I forget why I love it," I said.

He studied me. "You forget?"

"Sometimes competing makes it feel... heavy."

He nodded.

"I skate best when it's quiet."

We drifted into motion without discussing it.

Just.. skating.

Parallel lines. Breathing in sync.

"You're scared," he said suddenly.

I scoffed. "Of what?"

"Not winning." The accuracy hit like cold water. I hated being read.

"I'm scared," he continued, "that one day I won't love it the same way."

The vulnerability stunned me. We stopped near the center. Closer than ever.

"You will," I said softly.

"How do you know?"

"Because you look happiest right here." 

He held my gaze. "And you?"

My chest tightened. "Same."

Silence wrapped around us. Thick. Electric.

He reached out slowly.. 

Then brushed a stray frostflake from my sleeve.

Such a small gesture, but it felt enormous. For a second, neither of us moved.

Then he whispered, "don't let me win easily."

I smiled.

"Wouldn't dream of it."

Once we stepped off the ice, my ankle wobbled slightly. His hand caught mine. We froze and awareness surged. My heart slammed so hard I wondered if he could feel it through my wrist. His gaze dropped briefly to my mouth. Then lifted again. Closer. Too close. 

Always too close. 

The world narrowed. Tilted, even.

If either of us leaned one inch—

The rink lights flickered.

Reality snapped back and he released me immediately. Armor back in place.

"Get some sleep," he said.

"You too."

But neither of us moved right away. Because something had shifted.

Irreversibly.

As I walked toward the exit, I felt it with absolute certainty.

The rivalry was still there. Sharp as ever.

But underneath it...

Something warmer had begun to fracture through the ice.

And soon, there would be no pretending we didn't feel it.

I stopped sleeping after the almost kiss.

Not entirely.

Just enough that my dreams felt shallow and unfinished, like someone kept waking me before the important part. Every time I closed my eyes, I saw it again. The rink lights humming softly. His hand around my wrist.

That look.

That impossible, suspended second where the world narrowed until it was just breath and distance and what might have happened if neither of us had remembered how to be afraid. I told myself it meant nothing. A moment is just a moment. Bodies drift close all the time. Skaters understand proximity better than anyone. It was physics. Not feeling. Not longing. Definitely not the way my pulse had refused to settle for hours afterward.

I swung my legs out of bed and checked the time.

4:12 a.m. Perfect.

If I was going to spiral, I might as well do it productively.

The rink would be empty.

Cold fixes everything.

Or at least numbs it.

-

"You're late on your rotation."

I landed the triple loop anyway.

Not clean, but upright.

"I'm fine," I snapped.

Coach did not look convinced. "You've been 'fine' all week."

I pushed my hair out of my face, annoyed by the tremor in my hands.

"I just need another run."

"You need sleep."

"I slept."

She gave me the kind of look reserved for children and liars. Across the rink, I felt it before I saw it.

Attention.

Sunghoon.

Watching.

...Again.

I turned away immediately. Which was mistake number one. Because now I was aware of him. Hyperaware. Every push of his blade sounded louder. Every landing sharper. Every exhale closer than it probably was.

Focus.

Focus.

Focus.

I reset for the combination.

Takeoff.

Rotate.

Under.

My blade scraped awkwardly before catching.

I staggered.

Saved it.

Barely.

Coach blew her whistle once.

Sharp.

"Enough."

"I said I'm fine."

"YN." That tone. The warning one.

"You're not present." The words lodged somewhere uncomfortable.

Because she was right, and I didn't know how to fix it.

-

By Wednesday, it wasn't just Coach. It was everyone. Layla studied me over lunch like I was a suspicious artifact.

"You just tried to drink your phone."

I blinked down at my hand and I was, in fact, holding my phone where my water should have been.

Jake leaned across the table. "Blink twice if you're possessed."

"I'm just tired."

Heeseung tilted his head slightly.

"No," he said gently. "You're somewhere else."

I stabbed at my food. "I have sectionals."

"You've had competitions before," Layla said carefully.

"Not like this."

"Why not?"

Because Sunghoon almost kissed me. Because I almost let him. Because now every time I see him my lungs forget their job.

I shoved the thought down so hard it practically echoed.

"Pressure," I said instead.

Jake frowned. "You don't crack under pressure."

Tell that to my nervous system.

Layla's eyes narrowed slowly. Then widened.

Oh no.

Oh no no no.

"You and Sunghoon," she whispered.

I choked on air. "There is no 'me and Sunghoon.'"

"That was not a denial."

"It absolutely was."

"Your ears are red."

"They are not."

Heeseung, traitor that he is, hid a smile.

"You should talk to him," he said.

I laughed.

Too loudly.

"I would rather skate barefoot."

-

It happened on a Thursday afternoon.

Quiet session.

Most skaters had cleared out and I was tying my laces when his reflection appeared beside mine in the glass.

"You've been avoiding me."

I didn't look up.

"I've been training."

"You won't even look at me."

"I'm looking at my skate."

"YN."

Something in his voice tugged. I hated that it did. I stood. Turned.

Big mistake.

He was closer than expected.

Close enough that I could see the faint flush in his cheeks from training.

"You're off," he said quietly.

"I'm not."

"You popped three jumps yesterday."

"I know what I did."

Silence stretched.

Then, softer, "is it because of the other night?"

My heart slammed so hard it almost hurt.

"What about it?"

"You know what."

"No," I lied.

He stepped closer. The air shifted again. That charged stillness.

"I almost—"

"Don't," I said quickly.

His jaw tightened. "Did it scare you?"

"No."

Yes.

"Yes," he corrected gently.

The way he said it.. like he understood something I couldn't admit.

My chest felt too tight.

"We should focus on sectionals," I said.

His gaze dropped briefly to my mouth again.

"You are focusing," he said. "Just not on skating."

Heat flared up my neck.

"I hate you."

"No, you don't." He reached out then. Slowly. Like approaching a frightened animal. His fingers brushed a loose strand of hair near my cheek.

My breath caught.

Don't lean in.

Don't lean in.

Don't—

Footsteps echoed down the corridor. We sprang apart.

Again.

Always again.

But this time something lingered in his expression. Not just tension, but regret.

-

By Friday, frustration had replaced exhaustion.

I needed to prove, to myself more than anyone, that I was still in control.

So I made a decision. A stupid one, maybe. 

Definitely. 

Triple axel.

I wasn't scheduled to run it that day. Coach wasn't even watching. But it sat there in my mind like a dare. If I landed it clean...

Everything would feel steady again.

I pushed to center ice. The rink hummed softly. For a second, it felt like old times. Just me and the jump.

I inhaled. Backward outside edge.

Step.

Step.

Vault.

Airborne.

And for half a heartbeat, it was perfect.

Then my timing slipped.

Rotation slowed.

My landing came down wrong.

Blade hit at an angle.

My ankle twisted violently beneath me. The sound that tore out of me didn't feel human.

Ice rushed up. Pain detonated white hot. I couldn't breathe.Somewhere far away, someone shouted my name. Blades carved frantic lines toward me.

Then, Sunghoon.

Already there.

Dropping hard to his knees.

"YN." His voice was sharp. Terrified. I had never heard him like that.

"Don't move," he said.

"I wasn't planning on it," I gasped.

He looked at my ankle. Swelling already blooming beneath the fabric. His face went frighteningly still.

"No no no..."

"I'm fine," I whispered automatically.

"You're not fine."

His hands hovered like he wanted to touch but was afraid to hurt me more. Coach skidded to a stop beside us.

"Call medical." The words blurred together.

Everything blurred except him. His hand slid into mine.

Firm.

Grounding.

"I've got you," he said quietly.

The pain pulsed again. I squeezed his hand without thinking and his grip tightened instantly.

As they helped me off the ice, I saw it. The guilt in his eyes. Sharp enough to cut.

"This is my fault," he murmured.

"It isn't."

"You weren't ready to run it."

"I chose to."

But he shook his head once, jaw locked.

"You were distracted."

The word hung there.

Heavy.

-

The verdict? 

Sprain. Severe. Possible ligament damage.

No jumping, which meant absolutely no competing.

The doctor's voice sounded like it was traveling through water.

Sectionals.

Gone.

Just like that.

I stared at the wall because if I looked at anyone, I might shatter. Sunghoon stood in the corner of the room, silent. Hands clenched.

When the doctor left, the quiet roared.

"I'm sorry," he said finally. The apology was wrecked.

I forced a laugh. "You didn't push me midair."

"I should've said something sooner."

"You did."

"Not enough."

I looked at him then. Really looked. And what I saw there stole the breath from my lungs.

Fear.

Not for himself, but for me.

"You're going to skate," I said softly.

He shook his head once.

"It won't feel right."

"It better," I snapped. "Do not throw your program because of me."

His voice dropped.

"You are not something I can separate from this."

The confession cracked something open inside my chest. I looked away quickly.

Because suddenly, this hurt more than the ankle.

"I need you to win," I whispered.

His answer came without hesitation.

"I need you on the ice."

Silence fell again.

Thick.

Finally, I said the thing neither of us wanted to admit.

"Maybe we were never meant to peak at the same time."

His eyes sharpened. "No."

So certain. So immediate.

"We rise together," he said quietly.

The words settled into me like something permanent.

Tears burned behind my eyes.

I blinked them back.

I don't cry at rinks.

Ever.

But as he stepped closer, hesitation flickering across his face like he was asking permission without words. I realized something with devastating clarity. The rivalry had never been what made us dangerous.

It was this.

This impossible gravity pulling us toward each other whether we meant to or not. And now?Neither of us knew how to escape it.

-

The rink sounds different when you're not allowed on it. I never noticed before. From the stands, blades don't sing. They scrape. Music doesn't swell. It echoes. Even the cold feels farther away, like it belongs to someone else now. I hated it immediately.

"You don't have to come watch," Layla said gently beside me.

"Yes, I do." Because if I stayed home, this would become real. And I wasn't ready for real.

Below us, skaters cut their warm up patterns. The space where I should have been felt enormous. Wrong. Like a missing tooth your tongue can't stop finding. Then he stepped onto the ice.

The air shifted. It always does when Sunghoon skates.

But today, something was off. At first, no one else noticed. They saw the same clean edges. The same upright posture. The same frightening precision. But I saw it. The hesitation half a second before his takeoffs. The way his shoulders carried tension they never used to. Sunghoon didn't skate like someone chasing gold. He skated like someone searching for something that wasn't there.

My stomach twisted.

"He looks weird," Jake muttered.

Layla nodded slowly. "He looks... restrained."

Heeseung crossed his arms. "He's thinking too much."

Yes. Exactly.

Sunghoon has never been a thinker on the ice. He is instinct, muscle memory, velocity.

Until now.

He pushed into a triple flip. Landed.

Clean.

The rink clapped politely. But his face didn't change. No satisfaction or hunger. Just distance.

And then his eyes lifted and found me instantly. They always do.

Something flickered there. Pain? Relief? Both?

He looked away first.

Good.

Because if he hadn't, I might have done something reckless like cry in public.

I don't cry at rinks.

-

The rumors started quietly.

"They think he's injured."

"No, it's burnout."

"I heard he's changing programs last minute."

Wrong.

Wrong.

Wrong.

If they looked closer, they'd see the truth. Sunghoon wasn't unraveling because of skating. He was unraveling because I wasn't out there with him. It was a terrifying realization. One that sat heavy in my chest.

After practice, I waited near the tunnel. Leaning on crutches still felt humiliating, but falling again would be worse.

He emerged, hair damp, expression guarded. When he saw me, something in his shoulders loosened. Just slightly.

"You stayed."

"I always stay."

Silence hovered.

Then I said the thing I'd rehearsed all morning.

"You're holding back."

His jaw tightened.

"I'm skating."

"You're surviving."

His eyes snapped to mine.

"I don't need a critique right now."

"You do if you plan on winning."

Frustration sparked.

Good.

Anger is closer to normal than whatever numb thing he'd been doing.

"You think I care about winning?" he asked quietly.

"Yes."

"I don't."

The words hit harder than they should have.

"You've cared your entire life."

"I cared when it meant something." The air stilled.

There it was. The thing we weren't naming. I gripped my crutch harder.

"Don't you dare do this," I said.

"Do what?"

"Turn me into an excuse."

His expression fractured.

"You are not an excuse."

"Then skate like it."

Silence stretched between us, taut as pulled wire.

Finally, he whispered, "it's different without you." The confession landed softly.

Devastating anyway.

I steadied my voice. "It has to not be."

He looked like he wanted to argue. Like he wanted to say ten other things.

Instead, he asked, "did it hurt?"

"The fall?"

He nodded.

"Yes."

A pause.

"Not as much as sitting still."

His gaze dropped briefly to my ankle. Something dangerously close to guilt flickered there again.

"This is not your fault," I said firmly.

"You were distracted."

"So were you."

His eyes lifted. Caught.

He exhaled slowly. "Maybe."

I softened my voice.

"Sunghoon... you don't get to fall apart just because I did."

"I'm not falling apart."

"You almost doubled your lutz."

"That was intentional."

"Liar."

For a second, the corner of his mouth twitched.

There he is.

"I need you to skate," I said quietly.

"I am."

"No. I need you to fly."

The words hung between us.

He searched my face like the answer to something was written there.

"What if I don't want to without you?" he asked.

My chest tightened so hard it almost hurt.

"You don't get that choice," I whispered.

-

Apparently I wasn't the only one worried. I turned the corner later that afternoon and nearly collided with Ni-ki.

He blinked down at my crutches.

"You look violent."

"Thank you."

Sunoo hovered nearby, concern written all over him.

"He won't listen to us," Jungwon said bluntly.

Ah.

So this was an ambush.

"He listens to you," Sunoo added.

I almost laughed. "Have you met him?"

Ni-ki crossed his arms.

"He skates like someone stole his favorite thing."

The accuracy made my throat tight.

"You are his favorite thing," Ni-ki continued.

Sunoo smacked his arm.

"What? It's obvious."

Heat rushed up my neck.

"No, it is not."

Jungwon gave me a look far too perceptive for his age.

"You should talk to him again."

"I already did."

"Do it harder," Ni-ki said.

I snorted despite myself.

But later,  I found him alone again. Some gravitational pull keeps dragging us into the same quiet corners. He sat on the bench, unlacing his skates slowly.

"You're brooding," I observed.

"I'm sitting."

"Men only sit like that in dramatic movies."

He huffed softly.

Progress.

I lowered myself beside him.

Closer than necessary. But not touching.

Never touching.

"Do you remember the first time you beat me?" he asked suddenly.

"You tripped on your landing."

"You laughed."

"It was funny."

"You offered me your tissue."

"You were bleeding."

A faint smile.

Gone too quickly.

"You told me rivals shouldn't let each other look pathetic."

"I stand by that."

He turned then. Fully. Eyes searching mine.

"I don't know how to do this without you."

The vulnerability cracked straight through me.

"You won't have to forever," I said softly.

"But right now you do."

A long silence followed.

Then I added gently, "if you skate small because I'm not there, I will never forgive you."

That got his attention. His gaze sharpened.

"You're terrifying."

"Correct."

Something steadier moved through his expression. Resolve, maybe.

"You'll watch?" he asked.

"Every second."

"And if I fall?"

"You won't."

"And if I do?"

I held his gaze. "Then I'll be right here when you get up."

For a moment, neither of us breathed. The space between us hummed with everything we still refused to say. Then he nodded once.

Decision made.

-

I couldn't sleep again. Different reason this time. Not anxiety.

Anticipation.

Tomorrow, he would skate.

Without me.

I stared at the ceiling, heart restless. And understood something with startling clarity. For years, I thought rivalry was about wanting to win. But this? Wanting him to be brilliant even if I wasn't beside him? That was something else entirely. Something frighteningly close to love. I shut my eyes quickly.

Absolutely not.

We are not unpacking that tonight.

-

The arena buzzed with competition energy.

Electric.

I settled into my seat, pulse racing like it was my name on the roster. When Sunghoon stepped onto the ice,  I knew immediately.

He was back.

Edges deeper. Speed faster. Presence enormous. He wasn't searching anymore. He was claiming space. Halfway through his step sequence, his gaze lifted briefly and found me.

And this time? He didn't look away. He held it. Just long enough for me to understand. This skate was not despite me.

It was for us.

My throat burned.

By the time he launched into his final jump, the arena was already rising.

Landing.

Clean.

Perfect.

The music swelled.

He finished strong, chest heaving as he smiled.

Not wide. Not showy.

Just real.

As the crowd roared, I felt tears prick my eyes.

I blinked them back fiercely.

I don't cry at rinks.

But when he stepped off the ice and walked straight toward the tunnel where I waited, something inside me shifted permanently.

"You flew," I whispered.

He looked at me like the noise around us didn't exist.

"You were right here," he said.

And in that moment, I realized something terrifying.mThe agony wasn't the distance. It wasn't the injury. It wasn't even the almost kiss.

The real agony?

Was knowing that whatever this was between us, was no longer something either of us could outrun.

-

I have never been more nervous for someone else in my entire life. Which is deeply inconvenient, because Sunghoon looked like the calmest person in the arena. He stood at center ice waiting for his scores, chest still rising and falling from exertion, hair damp, posture perfectly aligned like his spine had been engineered rather than grown.

Around him, the arena hummed.

Judges shuffled papers. Spectators whispered. Cameras tilted. But all I could hear was my heartbeat. Beside me, Layla gripped my sleeve.

"If he doesn't win, I riot."

Jake leaned forward so far I thought he might fall over the railing.

"He just committed athletic murder out there."

Heeseung, ever composed, simply said, "That was the best I've ever seen him."

Yes.

It was.

And I knew why.

The scoreboard flickered.

Numbers began to populate.

Technical.

High.

Higher.

My stomach flipped.

Program components.

Ridiculous.

Then the final score appeared.

First.

Gold.

The arena exploded.

Sound crashed over us in a wave so loud it rattled through my ribs.

Ni-ki screamed something completely unintelligible. Sunoo jumped onto Jungwon's back. Someone behind me dropped a drink.

And Sunghoon? Didn't move.

For half a second, he just stared at the board like he didn't quite believe it.

Then slowly, almost cautiously, his gaze lifted.

It was not a triumphant look.

It wasn't cocky.

It was searching.

Like he needed to confirm I was real.

I don't remember deciding to move. One second I was in the stands. The next I was navigating down the steps, ignoring Layla shouting something about my ankle. Crutches be damned. By the time he stepped off the ice into the tunnel, I was already there. Waiting. Breath unsteady. Heart doing something medically concerning. For a moment, the world narrowed to just us again. Crowds roared somewhere beyond the walls. But inside that tunnel, it felt suspended.

"You won," I said.

Brilliant opening line, truly.

His mouth curved slightly, but his eyes stayed fixed on mine.

"You told me to fly."

"And you listened."

A pause.

"You were here."

Always.

The word hung unspoken but understood. Emotion climbed my throat unexpectedly fast.

"I'm proud of you," I managed.

Something in his expression broke open. Not dramatically.

Not visibly to anyone else. But I saw it.

Relief.

Weeks of tension dissolving in real time.

He stepped closer. Too close for politeness or rivalry.

I should have thought about it.

About the cameras. The people.

My friends literally stampeding toward us from down the corridor.

But adrenaline is a reckless thing.

So is love, apparently.

His hand came up, hesitant only for a fraction of a second, cupping the side of my face like he'd been imagining it for years.

"YN," he breathed.

And before my brain could catch up, I closed the distance.

Or maybe he did.

I don't know.

All I know is suddenly his mouth was on mine.

Warm.

Certain.

Not tentative the way almost kisses are.

This was not a question.

This was gravity finally winning.

Somewhere behind us, Ni-ki shrieked.

Actually shrieked.

Sunoo yelled, "I KNEW IT!"

Layla was losing her entire mind.

But the noise felt far away. Because Sunghoon kissed like he skated.

Fully.

Without hesitation once he committed.

My fingers curled into the front of his jacket before I even realized what I was doing. The world tilted.

Steadied.

Tilted again.

When we finally broke apart, the silence between us lasted exactly half a heartbeat before reality crashed back in.

Cameras flashing.

People staring.

Our friends howling like a pack of delighted wolves.

Sunghoon blinked once.

Then twice.

As if waking up mid dream.

"...we just did that," he said quietly.

"Yes," I replied, equally stunned. "We did."

A faint flush crept across his cheeks. I suspected mine matched.

Ni-ki barreled into him next, nearly knocking him sideways.

"TOOK YOU LONG ENOUGH."

Sunoo clapped both hands over his mouth.

"You kissed her before getting your medal. That is insane."

Jungwon just shook his head. "Unbelievable."

Layla skidded to my side, gripping my shoulders.

"I have been WAITING YEARS."

"It has not been years."

"YEARS."

"I hate all of you," I muttered.

But I was smiling too hard for it to carry any weight.

Through the chaos, Sunghoon found my hand.

Not dramatically.

Not possessively.

Just, threaded his fingers through mine like it was the most natural thing in the world.

My pulse jumped.

"You okay?" he asked softly.

"Are you?"

He considered it. Then, with a small exhale that felt like the release of something ancient—

"I think I am now."

My chest squeezed painfully.

"You realize," I said, "half the arena just saw that."

"I didn't think."

"I noticed."

Then he added, "I don't regret it."

Neither did I. Which was the truly terrifying part.

Officials began calling medalists back toward the ice.

He hesitated.

Looked at our joined hands.

Then at me.

"Go," I said gently. "Champion."

The word made something warm flicker across his face. But before he stepped away, he leaned down just slightly, voice meant only for me.

"You're still my hardest competition."

I smiled.

"Good. Stay nervous."

He started toward the ice, then glanced back once more. Our eyes met.

And in that moment, something settled deep in my bones. For years, we had chased each other across frozen surfaces, pretending it was about medals and margins and technical scores. But standing there now, ankle wrapped, heart wide open, watching him take his place at the top of the podium,  I understood the truth with startling clarity. We were never meant to defeat each other. We were meant to rise together.

Layla leaned into me, vibrating with excitement.

"So," she whispered, "does this mean you're dating?"

I watched Sunghoon accept his medal, gold flashing beneath the arena lights.

He looked over immediately.

"I don't know," I admitted softly.

But as he stepped down from the podium and walked straight back toward us without even glancing at anyone else, My heart did something steady.

Certain.

Terrifying.

And wonderfully inevitable.

"...I think we're about to find out."

゛ꨄ︎﹒enha masterlist ⸝⸝․ᐟ

⤷ network tags: @kvanity-main

[arwen-u]

I LOVE HIM SO MUCH 😭😭😭

[cheollollipop]

intermission: the clubhouse phase. | mark lee.

genre: fluff. slight angst.

wc: 1.9k

pairing: spider man mark x f. reader

rating: PG

🕸️ author’s note!

im baaaaaack!!!! like... officially this time though lol. I missed writing so much and I miss writing spider mark the most if I'm being completely honest. this is just a quick little one shot I worked on a while ago that I felt didn't make the cut but after going all of my spider mark stories, it felt like a good way to slowly come back to tumblr. I'm excited to share what I have for you all and once again, I hope you all enjoy (: happy reading!

I find out about the hideout because Jaemin will not stop smiling.

It’s not even a loud smile. It’s the quiet, satisfied kind, like he already knows how this ends and is enjoying my confusion as a warm up. Jeno keeps checking his phone like he’s counting down to something. Haechan is bouncing on the balls of his feet, which is never a good sign.

YN notices immediately.

“Why do you all look like you’re about to do something illegal,” she asks, stabbing a fry with her fork.

“Define illegal,” Haechan says.

“I refuse,” she replies.

I swallow. “Guys. Please.”

Jaemin claps once. “Field trip.”

“Where,” I ask.

“Somewhere safe,” Jeno says.

“Somewhere secret,” Haechan adds.

YN narrows her eyes at me. “You didn’t agree to this without me, right?”

“I don’t even know what this is yet,” I say.

“That’s worse.”

After school, we head to a building that looks abandoned, but not in a horror movie way. More like the city collectively forgot it existed. Boarded windows. Peeling paint. A sign that says CLOSED TEMPORARILY that has clearly been lying for years.

Haechan knocks three times. Pauses. Knocks twice more.

The door unlocks.

YN stares. “You practiced that.”

“Yes,” Jaemin says proudly.

Inside, the lights flick on in sections. Concrete floors. Wide open space. A half loft above us. Hooks along the beams. A workbench neatly organized. A whiteboard against the wall.

WELCOME, SPIDER-MARK RULE #1: STOP GETTING HURT ALONE

I stop walking.

“You did this,” I say quietly.

Jeno nods. “We figured if you’re doing this, you shouldn’t be doing it without backup.”

Haechan gestures around. “First aid. Tools. Snacks. Emotional support couch.”

I stare at the whiteboard like it might start talking back.

“This is… a lot.”

Jaemin grins. “You’re welcome.”

YN steps closer to the workbench, eyes sharp. “Okay. This is impressive.”

I relax a fraction.

Then Jeno clears his throat. “There is… one rule.”

YN turns slowly. “I don’t like how you said that.”

Jeno points to the board. RULE #3: YN DOES NOT COME HERE.

The silence is immediate and deadly.

“What,” she says flatly.

Haechan rushes in. “For safety. Not exclusion. Very different vibes.”

She crosses her arms. “You built him a superhero clubhouse and decided I’m not allowed inside.”

Jaemin winces. “When you phrase it like that, it sounds bad.”

“It is bad.”

I step forward. “Okay, listen—”

She looks at me. “You agree with them.”

I hesitate.

She scoffs. “Wow.”

“I’m not saying never,” I say quickly. “I’m saying not right now.”

“Why?”

“Because this is dangerous.”

“So is crossing the street.”

“That’s not—”

“Mark,” she interrupts. “You don’t get to protect me by deciding things for me.”

The room goes quiet.

She steps closer, voice steady, eyes locked on mine. “I’m not asking to go on patrol. I’m not asking to fight. I’m asking to not be shut out.”

I open my mouth. Close it.

Haechan whispers, “She’s winning.”

Jaemin nods solemnly.

Jeno shifts uncomfortably. “We just don’t want you hurt.”

“And I don’t want him carrying this alone,” she says, not breaking eye contact. That lands.

She gestures around the room. “This place is smart. It’s thoughtful. It’s careful. And you all built it because you care about him," her voice softens. “So do I.”

I rub my face. “You’re not wrong.”

She raises an eyebrow. “I know.”

I exhale. “Okay. Compromise.”

Everyone perks up.

“You don’t come here yet,” I say. “But eventually. When we’re sure. When there are rules. And training. And an exit plan.”

Haechan gasps. “Training arc.”

YN tilts her head. “Eventually?”

I nod. “Eventually.”

She studies me for a long moment.

Then she smiles, slow and victorious. “Deal.”

She points at the whiteboard. “But I get to add rules.”

Jaemin groans. “We made a monster.”

She grabs a marker and writes:

RULE #4: MARK EATS BEFORE HEROICS RULE #5: NO LYING BY OMISSION RULE #6: EMOTIONAL CHECK-INS ARE MANDATORY

I swallow. “That feels targeted.”

She grins. “It is.”

Later, when we’re all sprawled across the couches, Haechan testing the mini fridge and Jeno reorganizing for the third time, YN sits beside me.

“So,” she says quietly. “Eventually.”

“Eventually,” I agree.

She bumps her shoulder into mine. “I’m not trying to be reckless.”

“I know,” I say. “You’re just… brave.”

She smiles at that.

I glance around the room again. My friends. The hideout. The rules written in her handwriting.

I lean closer and whisper, “You realize if you join, you’re technically my boss.”

She snorts. “I already am.”

Jaemin looks over. “What was that.”

“Nothing,” I say quickly.

YN smirks.

After about an hour of endless conversation, the rule board becomes a living document.

I don’t know how it happened. One second it’s just a whiteboard with a few bullet points, and the next, Jaemin has uncapped three different colored markers and declared himself “a visual thinker,” Haechan has sat cross legged on the floor with a notebook he absolutely did not bring for school purposes, and Jeno is pulling up satellite maps on his phone like he’s planning a small, well organized rebellion.

YN stands back for a moment, arms crossed, watching.

“This,” she says finally, “is either going to save your life or get you all arrested.”

“Both can be true,” Haechan replies cheerfully.

Jaemin adds a new section to the board: EXIT PLANS.

“Plural,” he emphasizes. “Always plural.”

I sit on the edge of the workbench, hoodie pushed up my arms, feeling oddly… official. Like I should’ve gotten a welcome packet or a badge or something.

“You don’t need this much planning,” I say, even as I lean forward to look.

Jeno glances up. “You absolutely do.”

YN nods. “He does.”

Traitors. All of them.

Jeno projects a map of the city onto the far wall using a borrowed mini projector that I do not ask about. Streets glow faintly. Districts outlined. High rise clusters circled.

“Okay,” he says, laser focused. “Primary patrol zones stay within a three mile radius. No deep dives yet.”

“Deep dives sound cool though,” Haechan says.

“No deep dives,” YN repeats.

Jaemin writes it down immediately.

I squint at the map. “Why that area?”

“Visibility,” Jeno says. “Crowds mean witnesses. Witnesses mean less escalation.”

YN steps closer, studying the map. “And escape routes.”

Jaemin brightens. “Oh. Yes. Those.”

He flips to a new page in his notebook. “Okay, hypothetically. If Mark is being chased.”

“Why am I always being chased?” I ask.

“Because you’re fast,” Haechan says. “And dramatic.”

Jaemin continues, unfazed. “You need vertical exits, ground exits, and last resort exits.”

“What’s a last resort exit?”

YN answers calmly. “Hospitals.”

The room goes quiet for half a second.

Then Jeno nods. “Exactly.”

He pulls up another map. This one dotted with red crosses.

“Level One injuries,” he says. “Urgent care. Level Two, ER. Level Three—”

“Trauma centers,” YN finishes.

I look at her. “You've thought about this.”

She meets my eyes. “I always think about this.”

That lands heavier than anything else today.

Haechan clears his throat. “Okay but on a lighter note, I brought granola bars.”

Jaemin claps. “See. Balance.”

Training starts awkwardly.

Which makes sense, because I’m trying to explain my powers without sounding like I’m pitching a very niche superhero movie.

“Okay,” I say, standing beneath one of the ceiling beams. “So. Web shooters are wrist mounted. Range depends on anchor point integrity.”

Haechan immediately raises his hand. “Can I try.”

“No.”

“Please.”

“No.”

YN tilts her head. “Let him see the mechanics.”

I look betrayed. “You’re on my side.”

“I’m on the ‘no secrets’ side.”

I sigh and demonstrate instead, firing a single web upward. It sticks cleanly.

Jaemin stares. “Every time, it’s still insane.”

Jeno watches carefully. “Angle matters.”

“Yes,” I say. “Angle always matters.”

YN steps closer, craning her neck to watch the webbing retract.

“So training,” she says. “Is not about pushing limits yet. It’s about control.”

“You’re… very good at this.”

She shrugs. “I like plans.”

Haechan flops onto a mat. “I like vibes.”

Jaemin writes that down.

RULE #7: NO VIBES-ONLY DECISIONS

Haechan groans. “Dictatorship.”

By the time the sun starts dipping through the high windows, the hideout feels lived in.

Maps taped to walls. Arrows scribbled in pencil. A stack of printed hospital info packets. A list titled THINGS MARK FORGETS WHEN STRESSED that is longer than I’m comfortable with.

YN sits on the floor cross legged, highlighting something, humming quietly.

I drop down beside her. “You’re really serious about this.”

She glances up. “So are you. You just hide it behind jokes.”

“That’s unfair,” I say.

She smiles. “It’s the truth.”

I watch my friends across the room. Jeno carefully labeling a supply bin. Jaemin debating color coding systems. Haechan testing the couch for maximum nap potential.

“This isn’t permanent,” I say quietly.

“I know,” she replies. “But first days matter.”

I nod.

She bumps her shoulder into mine. “And when I do officially join.”

“When,” I repeat.

She grins. “I’m bringing my own binder.”

I laugh, “Of course you are.”

Jaemin looks over suddenly. “Team meeting.”

We all groan but gather anyway.

He gestures around. “Nothing is final. This is Day One. But today? We proved something.”

Haechan raises his hand. “That we’re cool.”

“That we’re careful,” Jeno corrects.

“That we’re not alone,” YN adds.

They all look at me.

I swallow, then smile. “Yeah. That.”

For the first time since all of this started, the weight feels… shared.

Not gone. Just carried better.

By the time roles come up, the room feels warmer.

Not from the lights. From time. From ownership. From the way maps have started curling at the edges because they’ve been handled too much. From the rule board now full enough that Jaemin has drawn an arrow that says CONTINUED ON NEXT BOARD.

Everyone’s sitting in a loose circle. Floor. Couch. Workbench. No one’s standing like they’re in charge.

Which makes it easier to say the hard part.

“So,” Jaemin says carefully. “Roles.”

Haechan perks up. “I want something cool.”

Jeno doesn’t look up from his notes. “You want something useful.”

“I can be both.”

YN shifts beside me. “This isn’t about titles.”

Jaemin nods. “It’s about coverage.”

All eyes drift to me and I straighten a little. “Okay.”

The word lands heavier than I expect.

Jeno clears his throat. “Logistics makes sense for me. Maps. Supplies. Timelines.” No one argues.

Haechan raises a finger. “Comms. I’m fast. I notice patterns. I can talk.”

“You can also panic loudly,” I point out.

He grins. “But effectively.”

Jaemin leans back. “Strategy. Big picture. Worst-case scenarios.”

YN hums. “You already do that anyway.”

Jaemin looks proud and slightly offended.

They all glance at me again.

“And you,” Jeno says.

I swallow.

“I’m… field,” I say. “I take the hits. I make the calls when things go wrong.”

Haechan frowns. “That sounds like too much.”

“It is,” I admit. “But it’s mine.” The room goes quiet.

Then YN speaks, soft but steady. “And me.” Everyone looks at her.

I hesitate. “Eventually.”

She nods. “Eventually.”

She waits. Doesn’t push.

I take a breath. “When you join… you’re oversight.”

Haechan tilts his head. “That sounds important.”

“It is,” I say. “You see what we miss. You call it out. You pull the plug when I won’t.”

She studies me. “You’d listen.”

“I always do.”

A beat.

She smiles, small and real. “Okay.”

Jaemin scribbles it down.

ROLE: OVERSIGHT / MISSION CONTROL

He underlines it twice.

Haechan squints. “That means she can override you.”

I nod. “In emergencies.”

YN raises an eyebrow. “Only emergencies.”

I meet her gaze. “I promise.”

Another quiet moment settles in.

Then Jeno says, “Final authority still rests with you," and everyone nods.

I don’t argue, because they’re right.

I lean forward, elbows on my knees, voice low. “I need you to understand something.”

They do. Instantly.

“This only works if I’m the last line,” I continue. “Not because I want control. But because if something goes wrong… it needs to stop with me.”

YN’s hand finds mine.

“If I mess up,” I say, “it’s my name. My suit. My choice.”

No one jokes.

Haechan swallows. “You don’t have to carry it alone.”

“I know,” I say. “But I carry it first.” That’s the difference.

Jaemin nods slowly. “Protection first.”

“Always,” I say.

YN squeezes my hand. “And we protect you.”

I look at her. Really look.

Then I smile. “Yeah. You do.”

Later, when we’re packing up, the excitement creeps back in. Haechan arguing about call signs. Jaemin insisting on laminated cards. Jeno already planning upgrades.

YN lingers with me near the board.

“You didn’t have to say all that,” she murmurs.

“I did,” I reply.

She leans into my shoulder. “You’re not alone anymore.”

I kiss the top of her head. “I know. That’s why I can do this.”

The lights go off one by one as we leave, the hideout quiet again but no longer empty.

Not a fortress.

A promise.

「 🕷️masterlist🕷️ 」

⤷ network tags: @neocity-net @kvanity-main

╰── ──╮

⤷ nct taglist: @neotannies

[homesickwhispers]

No words.

[cmonloveureupset]

I love his little :]

[cheollollipop]

guys!! im opening my taglist again!!

if you haven’t already and want to be added, go ahead and fill it out :):) annnnd if you have already filled it out, please reply or dm so i can get you prioritized. thank you all so much for your support on my works and your patience. im so happy to officially be back and i can’t wait to share my works again <3333

[cheollollipop]

Surprise!!!! Title for the next F1 x Mingyu 🙏🏼 Can’t wait to release it for yall ugh!!!

[cheollollipop]

I have a confession to make.... I MISS THE SPIDERMARK SERIES </3333333

[cheollollipop]

hey ! when will we be getting the next part of false start (take ur time tho haha i was jst curious cz i rlly enjoyed it)

hello anon!

I've been getting this question so much but I refused to answer anyone because most of them were rude so first of all thank you for asking nicely lol.

as far as when the next part will come out...

I have no idea. it's still in the writing phase (though a large chunk of it is completed). it's definitely going to be a three parter with all the drama that is about to happen. now for why its taking so long. I got promoted at work a few months ago (assistant store manager) and as you could imagine, its time consuming and at the beginning of the month my grandmother was in and out of the hospital and on TOP of all of that, my laptop took a shit.

I bought a new MacBook yesterday and am so madly in love with it that it's not even funny lol. my grandmother is doing so much better and work has finally started to die down a bit with the scheduling. so basically a long winded way of saying I am back to work and will be posting again really soon! while you all (patiently) wait for the second part of False Start I promise I will go back to posting my one shots. for those who have been waiting patiently and asking nicely, I really do appreciate you and to be completely honest, I did not think this many people were this interested in my works so this gives me a bit more motivation to keep you guys happy :))))

[from-izzy]

FRIENDS (1)

2nd part 🤍

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