[jinilogy]

愛. — ℳ𝗼𝗼𝗻𝘀𝘁𝗿𝘂𝗰𝗸 ( ᵇᵉ ʸᵒᵘʳˢᵉˡᶠ, ೀ )

❝ 달빛 아래, you and I ❞

🢒 fem ⭑ reader 🢒 male ⭑ reader 🢒 gn ⭑ reader 𝒇𝒐𝒓 𝒆𝒗𝒆𝒓𝒚 𝒃𝒆𝒂𝒖𝒕𝒊𝒇𝒖𝒍 𝒔𝒐𝒖𝒍

⏔⏔⏔ ꒰ ᧔ෆ᧓ ꒱ ⏔⏔⏔

❝ Let me hold you close ❞ (that one masterlist)

dm me for requests ! i dont write nsfw

[jinilogy]

To be honest I want to makes friends here but im SHY 😭

[jinilogy]

✿. 𝓣𝗵𝗿𝗼𝘂𝗴𝗵 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝓖𝗹𝗮𝘀𝘀 一 ( lee heeseung, ೀ )

❝ When the love of your life watches you marry someone else from the shadows, some goodbyes come with closure and the haunting echo of what could have been ❞ x female reader ⁽ˢʰᵉ/ʰᵉʳ ᵖʳᵒⁿᵒᵘⁿˢ⁾

──── 🢒 SYNOPSIS

when lee heeseung watches you marry someone else, and he realizes too late that every moment he didn't choose you was the moment he lost you forever when lee heeseung watches you marry someone else, and he realizes too late that every moment he didn't choose you was the moment he lost you forever

♯📂 🢒 1.235 words ⋆ angst 一 (╥﹏╥) ⋆ masterlist

The church bells ring too loudly.

Heeseung stands at the back of the venue, half-hidden behind a marble pillar, watching as guests filter into the pews with their fancy hats and pressed suits. He shouldn't be here. He knows that. But when the invitation arrived at his door three weeks ago—cream-colored cardstock with elegant gold lettering—he couldn't bring himself to throw it away.

You are cordially invited to witness the marriage of Y/N L/N.

Your name, printed in swirling calligraphy next to someone else's.

He'd held that invitation for hours, reading it over and over until the words blurred together. Part of him hoped it was a mistake, a cruel joke, anything but the truth. But deep down, he'd known this day would come eventually. He just never imagined it would hurt this much.

The venue is beautiful—you always did have impeccable taste. White roses cascade down every surface, their petals catching the afternoon light streaming through stained glass windows. Everything is perfect, exactly the kind of wedding you used to describe to him during those late-night conversations when you were both too young to know what forever really meant.

"I want something timeless," you'd said, lying next to him under a blanket of stars. "Something that feels like a fairy tale, but real, you know?"

He'd laughed and pulled you closer. "As long as I'm there, it'll be perfect."

The memory stings now, sharp and unforgiving.

Heeseung adjusts his tie—black, understated, appropriate for a guest who's supposed to blend into the background. His hands shake slightly, and he shoves them into his pockets. Around him, people chatter excitedly about how beautiful you'll look, how perfect you and your fiancé are together, how this is the wedding of the year.

Each word is a needle in his chest.

The string quartet begins to play, and the chatter dies down as everyone takes their seats. Heeseung remains standing, pressed against the wall where he can see everything but remain unnoticed.

The groom takes his position at the altar, looking nervous and excited and completely, blissfully unaware that someone in this room is breaking apart.

He seems nice. That's what makes it worse. Heeseung has done his research—he couldn't help himself. Your fiancé is successful, kind, comes from a good family. He probably gives you everything you deserve, everything Heeseung couldn't provide when his career was just taking off and his schedule was too chaotic to build a life with someone.

The music shifts.

Everyone stands.

And then there you are.

Heeseung forgets how to breathe.

You're ethereal in white, moving down the aisle like something from a dream. The dress hugs you perfectly, and your smile is radiant—that same smile he fell in love with years ago, the one that used to be reserved just for him. Your hair is styled elegantly, flowers woven through it, and even from this distance, he can see the happiness glowing in your eyes.

You're happy. Genuinely, completely happy.

And it's not because of him.

The realization crashes over him like a wave. All this time, he'd held onto a foolish hope that maybe you still thought about him, that maybe you still wondered "what if" the way he did every single day. But seeing you now, walking toward your future with such certainty, he understands.

You've moved on. You've found your forever.

And it's exactly what you deserve.

Your eyes scan the crowd as you walk, greeting familiar faces with soft smiles. For just a moment, your gaze passes over his hiding spot, and Heeseung's heart stops. But you don't see him—he made sure of that. This isn't his moment to intrude on. This is yours.

He watches as you reach the altar, watches your fiancé take your hands with such tenderness that Heeseung has to look away. The officiant begins to speak, words about love and commitment and two souls becoming one, and each syllable is agony.

"If anyone has reason why these two should not be wed, speak now or forever hold your peace."

The silence stretches.

Heeseung's throat tightens. He could do it. He could step forward, could tell everyone that he's still in love with you, that he never stopped, that losing you was the biggest mistake of his life. He could be selfish just this once.

But then he sees your face again—sees the pure joy there, the certainty, the love you have for the man standing before you—and he knows he could never do that to you.

Loving someone means wanting them to be happy, even if that happiness doesn't include you.

The officiant continues. The vows are exchanged. Heeseung barely hears them through the rushing in his ears. His chest feels tight, eyes burning, but he won't let himself fall apart. Not here. Not now.

"You may now kiss the bride."

The room erupts in applause and cheers as you kiss your husband—your husband, not your ex-boyfriend, not the boy who let his dreams get in the way of loving you properly. The joy is infectious, spreading through the venue like sunlight, and everyone is standing and clapping and celebrating your new beginning.

Everyone except Heeseung, who quietly slips out the back door before anyone can notice the tears on his face.

Outside, the world continues as normal. Cars drive by, birds sing, the sun shines warm and indifferent. Heeseung leans against the stone wall of the church, tilting his head back to stare at the cloudless sky.

He'd come here thinking he needed closure, that seeing you get married would somehow help him let go. And maybe it has, in a way. Maybe this is what letting go feels like—this hollow ache, this acceptance that some chapters close whether you're ready or not.

His phone buzzes. Messages from the group chat, asking where he is, if he's okay. He types out a quick response that he's fine, just busy with work, the same excuse he's been using for months whenever someone asks why he seems distant.

Inside the church, music starts up again—the reception must be beginning. He can hear the muffled sounds of laughter and celebration, can imagine you dancing and smiling and living the happily ever after you always deserved.

Heeseung finally pushes off the wall and starts walking, hands in his pockets, heading away from the church and toward the rest of his life. A life that will continue, that will be full of music and performances and the dreams he chose over you.

He doesn't regret his choice—he can't, because his career is everything he's worked for. But he'll always regret the timing, the way things ended, the fact that he realized too late what he was losing.

As he reaches the corner, he turns back one last time to look at the church. Through the stained glass windows, he can see the warm glow of the celebration inside—your celebration, your joy, your new beginning.

"Be happy," he whispers to the wind, knowing you'll never hear him. "That's all I ever wanted for you."

Then Lee Heeseung turns away and lets you go, carrying the bittersweet weight of a love that was real but not meant to last, a love that will live forever in the quiet corners of his heart where no one else can see.

Some love stories end with fireworks.

His ends with church bells and the sound of his own footsteps walking away.

⋆ @jinilogy,, 2O25 (˶ˆᗜˆ˵) if you want to be tagged or on the taglist, just comment or dm me <3 don't hesitate to comment !

[jinilogy]

✿. 𝓐𝗹𝗹 𝗺𝘆 ℒ𝗶𝗳𝗲 一 𝗢𝗢𝟭 ( park sughoon, ೀ )

❝ When your friendly neighborhood spider-man is the guy who can't look you in the eyes for too long without blushing ❞ x gender neutral reader ⁽ᵗʰᵉʸ/ᵗʰᵉᵐ ᵖʳᵒⁿᵒᵘⁿˢ⁾

──── 🢒 SYNOPSIS

When Spider-Man saves you from a traffic accident, there's something oddly familiar about the guy, something you can't quite place. Your ice skating club partner Sunghoon has been acting weird for months, but you never expected his secret to be this big. As you keep running into Spider-Man and getting closer to the truth, you're about to discover that some masks are harder to see through than others, especially when the boy behind the mask has been desperately in love with you all along, too terrified to confess and too protective to stay away. Because with great power comes great danger, and you've just become Seoul's friendly neighborhood Spider-Man's biggest weakness.

𝓣he ice rink is empty at six in the morning, which is exactly why you love it.

Well, almost empty.

"You're leaning too far forward," Sunghoon's voice echoes across the rink, and you don't need to look to know he's gliding toward you with that effortless grace that made you both jealous and mesmerized when you first met. "Your weight distribution is off."

"Good morning to you too," you call back, but you adjust your posture anyway. After a year and a half of these early morning sessions, you've learned that Sunghoon's corrections, however blunt, are always right.

He comes to a stop beside you, and you catch the small smile tugging at his lips. "Morning. Better. Now try the sequence again."

You've been part of Seoul National University's ice skating club since freshman year, a decision made on a whim during club rush week. You'd expected a casual hobby, maybe some new friends. What you got was Park Sunghoon—figure skating prodigy, actual ice prince, and the most dedicated person you'd ever met—essentially adopting you as his personal project.

"I saw you almost eat it on that turn," you tease, pushing off into the routine.

"I was distracted."

"By what? Your own reflection?"

That earns you an actual laugh, the kind that crinkles his eyes and makes your stomach do a weird flip you've been determinedly ignoring since last semester. "Are you going to skate or are you going to talk?"

You stick your tongue out at him and launch into the sequence. Crossovers into a simple axel—you're not at Sunghoon's level and probably never will be, but you've gotten good enough that the club president asked if you wanted to perform in the winter showcase. The landing is a little shaky, but you manage to stay upright.

When you circle back, Sunghoon is watching you with an expression you can't quite read. Soft, maybe? Proud?

"What?"

He blinks, and the moment passes. "Nothing. That was good. Your arms need work, but the rotation was clean." He checks his phone, and something flickers across his face. Tension, maybe worry. "I have to head out soon. Early... appointment."

There it is again. That weird vagueness that's been plaguing him for months now.

You've noticed things lately. How could you not? Sunghoon, who used to stay for your entire practice session and then some, now leaves early at least twice a week with increasingly creative excuses. Last week it was a "dentist appointment" at seven in the morning. Before that, helping his roommate move furniture on a Wednesday at dawn.

And it's not just the leaving. He's been showing up with bruises—on his jaw, his arms, once a nasty one on his ribs you caught a glimpse of when he stretched and his shirt rode up. He always laughs them off. "Fell during practice." "Ran into a door." "You know me, clumsy."

Except Sunghoon is possibly the least clumsy person you've ever met. You've seen him land jumps that should be impossible. You've watched him catch falling objects without even looking. The other day, someone's phone slipped off the rink barrier, and he snatched it out of the air with reflexes that seemed almost superhuman.

"Another appointment?" you ask, trying to keep your tone light. "Sunghoon, if you've got a secret girlfriend or something, you can just tell me."

Something flashes in his eyes—hurt? panic?—before he schools his expression back to neutral. "No girlfriend. Secret or otherwise." He starts skating toward the exit, then pauses, glancing back. "Are you walking home after this?"

"Probably. Gonna practice for another hour."

"Text me when you get back?"

You raise an eyebrow. "Since when do you worry about my walk home?"

"Since always," he says quietly, and there's something in his voice that makes your heart skip. "Just... text me. Please?"

Before you can respond, he's gone, leaving you alone on the ice with more questions than answers.

✿.

Sunghoon makes it three blocks before he's ducking into an alley and pulling the suit from his backpack.

"Cutting it close," Jake's voice crackles through the newly upgraded comm system in his ear. "There's a robbery in progress in Gangnam. Convenience store on Teheran-ro."

"I know, I know." Sunghoon yanks the mask over his face, and the suit's interface flickers to life. Eight months. He's been doing this for eight months, and he still hasn't gotten used to the double life. The lying. "I was with—"

"Let me guess. Your 'friend' from ice skating?" Jake's tone is loaded with meaning that Sunghoon determinedly ignores.

"Shut up."

"I'm just saying, you've got it bad. Like, really bad. The longing looks? The excessive worrying? Dude, you asked me to track their phone last week—"

"For safety reasons!"

"Uh-huh." Sunghoon can practically hear Jake's smirk. "Sure. Very normal friend behavior. Hey, speaking of which, their route home from the rink passes through a pretty busy intersection. You know, if you wanted to coincidentally patrol that area—"

"Jake."

"I'm just your guy in the chair, man. I provide information. What you do with it is your business."

Sunghoon web-slings to the nearest building, and the familiar rush of adrenaline drowns out everything else. This, at least, he's good at. Being Spider-Man is easier than being Park Sunghoon, honor student and figure skater who's been pathetically in love with you since the moment you stumbled onto the ice during club rush week, all nervous energy and determined eyes.

He'd helped you up when you fell. You'd looked at him and said, "I'm definitely going to eat it like fifty more times, but I'm not quitting."

He'd been gone for you ever since.

The robbery takes fifteen minutes to handle. The convenience store owner thanks him profusely while Jake runs facial recognition on the perpetrators and alerts the police. It's routine now, almost easy.

"All clear," Sunghoon reports, perched on a rooftop overlooking the Han River. The morning sun is painting the water gold, and somewhere out there, you're still at the rink, practicing without him.

"Nice work, Spidey. Oh, hey—"

The tone shift in Jake's voice makes Sunghoon tense. "What?"

"Nothing urgent, just... you know how I monitor police scanners? There's been an uptick in muggings in the university area. Maybe mention to your 'friend' to be careful walking alone?"

Sunghoon's chest tightens. "How much of an uptick?"

"Relax, it's probably nothing. Just the usual city stuff. But you know, since you're so concerned about safety and all—"

"Send me the data."

"Already did. Seriously, though, you should just tell them how you feel. This pining thing is getting—"

"I'm not pining."

"You're absolutely pining. It's painful to watch. Even Heeseung noticed, and he's oblivious about everything."

Sunghoon thinks about this morning. The way you'd teased him, all easy smiles and casual affection. The way you have no idea that he shows up early specifically to skate with you, that he's rearranged his entire schedule around your practice times, that sometimes he patrols the route between your apartment and campus just to make sure you're safe.

"I can't tell them."

"Why not?"

Because if you knew how he felt, everything would change. Because your friendship is the one normal thing he has left, and he can't risk losing it. Because he's Spider-Man now, and everyone he cares about is a potential target.

Because he's terrified.

"Just drop it, Jake."

His friend sighs. "Fine. But for the record? They totally like you back."

"They don't."

"Do."

"Don't."

"Literally everyone can see it except you two. It's like watching a drama, but more frustrating because I can't skip to the confession scene."

Despite everything, Sunghoon smiles. "Don't you have class?"

"In an hour. Unlike you, I don't wake up at the crack of dawn to stare longingly at my crush—"

"I'm hanging up now."

"—while pretending it's about ice skating—"

"Goodbye, Jake."

He cuts the connection, but he's still smiling as he swings toward campus. He'll change, make it to his 9 AM lecture, and pretend that everything is normal. That he's just a regular student who's definitely not secretly Spider-Man and definitely not hopelessly in love with his skating partner.

Just another day.

✿.

By the time you finish practice, the rink is starting to fill up with the late morning crowd. You wave to a few other club members as you head to the lockers, your legs pleasantly sore from the workout.

Your phone buzzes with a text.

Sunghoon: Make sure you eat breakfast. You always forget after morning practice.

You can't help but smile. For all his recent weirdness, Sunghoon is still... Sunghoon. Thoughtful in ways he probably doesn't even realize, paying attention to small details that most people miss.

You: wow stalker much?

You: but yes mom ill eat

Sunghoon: I'm serious.

Sunghoon: And I'm not your mom.

You: couldve fooled me with all the nagging

You: im meeting heeseung and jay for lunch later anyway so ill be fed dont worry

There's a longer pause before his next text.

Sunghoon: Okay. Good.

Sunghoon: Be careful walking around campus. There's been some incidents lately. You: incidents?? You: sunghoon ur being weird again Sunghoon: Just be careful.

You stare at the messages, that familiar concern blooming in your chest again. He's definitely hiding something. The question is what.

Lunch with Heeseung and Jay is at the usual place—a cheap ramyeon spot near campus that's popular with students. You spot them at a corner table, already arguing about something.

"I'm telling you, Spider-Man is definitely a student here," Heeseung is saying as you approach. "Think about it. Most of his activity is in this area."

Jay rolls his eyes. "Seoul is huge. Just because he's active in Gangnam doesn't mean—oh, hey!" He spots you and waves. "Help me out here. Heeseung thinks Spider-Man goes to our school."

You slide into the booth. "Does it matter?"

"Yes!" Heeseung looks personally offended. "Dude, we could be sitting next to a literal superhero in class. That's insane. I have a list of suspects, actually—"

"Of course you do," Jay mutters.

"—and I'm pretty sure it's either that guy from the engineering department who's weirdly buff, or possibly—"

"It's not someone we know," you interrupt, laughing. "The chances of that are like, astronomical."

"But not zero!"

Jay shakes his head fondly. "How was practice? Sunghoon still being weird?"

"So weird," you confirm, gratefully accepting the menu. "He keeps leaving early and showing up with random bruises. And this morning he was all concerned about me walking home. Asked me to text him when I got back."

Heeseung and Jay exchange a look.

"What?" you demand.

"Nothing," they say in unison, which is never a good sign.

"Guys."

"It's just..." Heeseung leans forward, grinning. "You're really going to sit there and pretend you don't know why Sunghoon worries about you?"

"Because we're friends?"

Jay actually laughs. "Sure. Friends. That's definitely the reason he stares at you like you hung the moon whenever you're not looking."

Your face heats. "He does not—"

"He absolutely does," Heeseung confirms. "It's actually kind of painful. Like, the pining? Off the charts. I've never seen someone be so obvious and so oblivious at the same time."

"We're just friends," you insist, even as your heart does that stupid fluttering thing again. "And that doesn't explain why he's been acting so strange."

"Maybe he's trying to work up the courage to confess," Jay suggests, then laughs at your expression. "I'm serious! The weird behavior, the protectiveness, leaving early—maybe he's planning something."

"Or," Heeseung adds, "he's got some other secret he's worried about. Either way, there's definitely something going on."

You think about Sunghoon's face this morning. The careful way he'd watched you skate. The text messages telling you to be safe.

"Yeah," you say quietly. "There definitely is."

✿.

Sunghoon's organic chemistry lecture is a special kind of torture, and not because of the subject matter.

He's sitting three rows behind you. He can see the way you're doodling in the margins of your notes, the slight bounce of your leg that means you're either bored or thinking about something else. When you reach up to retie your hair, he has to physically force himself to look away.

"You're doing it again," Jake whispers from the seat beside him.

"Doing what?"

"The staring thing. It's creepy."

"I'm not—" Sunghoon cuts himself off as you glance back, and he quickly pretends to be very interested in his textbook. When he looks up again, you're smiling at him, and his heart does that stupid thing where it forgets how to beat properly.

He manages a small wave.

"Painful," Jake mutters. "Absolutely painful to witness."

After class, Sunghoon intends to catch up with you, maybe suggest studying together at the library. But his phone buzzes with an alert from the police scanner app Jake set up for him.

Jake: Armed robbery, two blocks from campus. You're up.

He curses under his breath.

"Hey!" You've appeared at his elbow, and Sunghoon nearly jumps. "You okay? You look stressed."

"I'm fine. Just—" His phone buzzes again. "I have to go. Sorry. Rain check on the library?"

That small furrow appears between your eyebrows, the one that means you're worried. "Sunghoon, seriously, if something's wrong—"

"Nothing's wrong." The lie tastes bitter. "I just forgot I have a... thing. For my lab partner. Group project."

"Right." You don't look convinced. "Okay. Text me later?"

"Yeah. Definitely."

He's already backing away, hating himself for the hurt that flickers across your face. Jake is waiting by the building exit, and together they duck into the nearest empty classroom.

"This is getting complicated," Jake says, standing guard while Sunghoon changes into the suit. "The lying to them specifically, I mean."

"I know."

"You could tell them. They'd understand—"

"No." Sunghoon pulls the mask on, and the interface lights up. "I can't put them at risk like that. It's bad enough that I—" He stops himself.

"That you what? Care about them? Dude, that's not exactly a secret. Except to them, apparently."

Sunghoon doesn't answer. He's already out the window, swinging toward the alert location, trying to ignore the ache in his chest that has nothing to do with physical exertion.

Being Spider-Man means protecting people. All people. But especially you.

Even if you never know it's him behind the mask.

✿.

You're heading home around seven that evening, the October sky already dark. Campus is quieter now, most students either at the library or already back in their dorms. You're mentally planning your evening—homework, maybe a call with your family, early bed so you can make morning practice—when your phone dies.

"Perfect," you mutter, stopping under a streetlight to dig through your bag for your portable charger. Which, of course, you forgot to pack this morning.

The walk home is only about fifteen minutes, straight shot down the main road and through a busy intersection. You've done it a hundred times. Nothing to worry about.

Except.

You can't shake the memory of Sunghoon's text. Be careful. There's been some incidents lately.

You pick up your pace slightly, keeping to the well-lit parts of the sidewalk. It's fine. You're being paranoid. This is one of the safest neighborhoods in Seoul, and there are still plenty of people around—

Your dropped your lip balm into the street.

It's stupid. It's a three dollar lip balm. But you didn't care, and without thinking, you step off the curb to grab it.

That's when you hear it. The screech of tires. The blaring horn.

You look up.

Headlights. Coming fast. Too fast.

Your brain screams at your legs to move, but you're frozen, deer in headlights literally, and there's no time, the car is going to hit you—

Something slams into you from the side.

Not the car. Something else. Someone else.

You're airborne for a heart-stopping second, then you're cradled against something solid, something that smells like fabric and faintly like rain, and then you're on the sidewalk, safe, shaking, alive.

"Are you okay?"

The voice is young. Male. Concerned.

You look up into the white-eyed mask of Spider-Man.

Seoul's Spider-Man is holding you. Has his arms around you, actually, one hand cradling the back of your head like you're something precious. Your face is pressed against his chest, and you can feel his heartbeat—racing, pounding, way too fast even for someone who just performed a rescue.

"I—" Your voice comes out shaky. "I'm okay. You—thank you. You saved my—"

"You can't just step into the street like that." There's something almost frantic in his voice. "You could have been killed. Do you understand? You—" He cuts himself off, and even through the mask, you can sense him trying to collect himself. "Sorry. I'm sorry. Are you hurt?"

"No. No, I'm fine. Thanks to you."

You're still in his arms. He hasn't let go. If anything, his hold tightens slightly, like he's assuring himself you're really okay.

Slowly, carefully, he helps you stand. But even then, his hands hover near your shoulders, like he's ready to catch you if you fall.

"You should be more careful," he says, and there's something in his voice. Something familiar that you can't quite place. "Especially at night. This area... it's not always safe."

"I've walked this route a hundred times."

"I know."

You blink. "You... know?"

There's a pause, brief but noticeable. "I mean—I patrol this area often. I've probably seen you around. Lots of students use this route." He's rambling now, and somehow that makes him seem more human. Less superhero, more... person. "Just. Please be careful. Okay?"

"Okay," you say softly.

Behind you, the car that almost hit you has stopped. The driver is getting out, apologizing profusely, asking if you're alright. Spider-Man tenses.

"I should—I have to go. Please." He squeezes your shoulder once, gently. "Be safe."

And then he's gone, web slinging up to the nearest building and disappearing into the night.

You stand there for a long moment, shaking, the driver still talking at you. But you're not really listening.

You're thinking about the way Spider-Man held you. The desperate edge in his voice. The way he said I know like he really did know you, specifically.

And that feeling of familiarity that you can't shake.

Like you've been held like that before.

Like you know those hands.

✿.

Sunghoon makes it two blocks before he has to stop, perched on a rooftop, hands shaking so badly he can barely grip the edge of the building.

"Sunghoon?" Jake's voice in his ear is urgent. "Sunghoon, talk to me. What happened? Your vitals are all over the place—"

"They almost died." His voice doesn't sound like his own. "Jake, Y/N almost—right in front of me—"

"But they didn't. You saved them. Y/N's okay."

"I almost didn't make it in time." The image is burned into his brain. You, frozen in the street. The car, too close, too fast. The split second where he thought he might lose you. "I was on the other side of the block. If I'd been any further—"

"But you weren't. You were there. They're safe."

Sunghoon pulls off his mask, gasping for air that suddenly feels too thin. His hands are still shaking. He'd held you. Had you in his arms, alive and warm and scared, and it had taken every ounce of his control not to give himself away. Not to say your name, not to hold on too tight, not to let you hear how terrified he was.

"I told them I knew them," he says quietly. "I slipped. Almost said their name."

"Did they notice?"

"I don't know. Maybe. They looked..." He closes his eyes. "They looked at me like they were trying to figure something out."

"Sunghoon—"

"I have to tell them." The words surprise him, but once they're out, he knows they're true. "Not about Spider-Man. But about... how I feel. If something happened and I never told them—"

"Okay," Jake says gently. "Okay. But maybe not tonight? Give yourself a minute to breathe."

Sunghoon nods, even though Jake can't see him. His phone buzzes—his personal phone, not the one connected to the suit.

It's from you.

You: so i almost just got hit by a car You: but spider-man saved me You: which is tuff i guess

You: except now i cant stop shaking and my phone was dead so i couldnt call anyone and You: can i call you?

His thumb hovers over the screen.

"Go," Jake says. "Be Park Sunghoon right now, not Spider-Man. They need their friend."

Sunghoon changes back into his regular clothes faster than he ever has, and calls you before he can overthink it.

You answer on the first ring.

"Hey." Your voice is small, shaky in a way that breaks his heart.

"Hey. Are you okay? Where are you?"

"Still on the street. The driver was really nice, kept apologizing. I'm fine, just..." A shaky breath. "It was really close, Hoon."

The nickname makes his chest ache. "I'm coming to get you. Don't move. Where exactly are you?"

You tell him, and he's already running, using every shortcut he knows. He makes it in under five minutes, which would be impressive if he wasn't still terrified.

When he spots you, sitting on a bench under a streetlight, still looking shaken, something in him breaks and reforms all at once.

"Hey," he says softly, and you look up.

Then you're standing, and he's pulling you into a hug before he can think better of it. You melt into him immediately, face pressed against his shoulder, hands clutching his jacket.

"I'm okay," you mumble. "Spider-Man caught me. I'm okay."

"I know. I know." He holds you tighter, one hand cradling the back of your head. Just like he did ten minutes ago, when you didn't know it was him. "You're okay."

You stay like that for a long moment, and Sunghoon tries to memorize it. The way you fit against him. The trust in the way you lean into his hold.

When you finally pull back, you're looking at him with an odd expression.

"What?" he asks.

"Nothing. Just..." You shake your head. "Thanks for coming. I know it's late."

"You can always call me." He means it more than you could possibly know. "No matter what time. If you need me, I'm there."

The walk back to your apartment is quiet. Sunghoon keeps one hand on your back, guiding you around puddles and uneven pavement. At your door, you hesitate.

"Do you want to come up? I don't really want to be alone right now."

He should say no. He has an essay due tomorrow, and a physics problem set he hasn't started. But you're looking at him with those eyes, and he's never been able to say no to you.

"Yeah. Of course."

Your apartment is small but cozy, decorated with pictures and plants and string lights that make everything feel warm. Sunghoon has been here before, for study sessions and movie nights, but tonight it feels different. More intimate, somehow.

You make tea—chamomile, which you claim is calming but Sunghoon knows you just like the taste. He sits on your couch and tries not to think about how much he wants this to be his normal.

Coming home to you. Taking care of you. Being the person you call when you're scared.

"Here." You hand him a mug and curl up next to him, closer than usual. "Thanks again. For coming. For..." You gesture vaguely. "Everything."

"Always."

"You're quiet for a moment, sipping your tea. Then: "Can I tell you something weird?"

"Sure."

"When Spider-Man caught me... there was something familiar about him. Not like I know him, but..." You frown, trying to articulate it. "The way he held me. It reminded me of something. Someone."

Sunghoon's heart stops. "Yeah?"

"Yeah. It's stupid. Obviously I don't know Spider-Man. But for a second, when he was making sure I was okay, it felt like..." You trail off, shaking your head. "Never mind. Probably just the shock talking."

"Probably," Sunghoon manages.

You lean your head on his shoulder, and he freezes for a second before relaxing into it. This is okay. This is normal. Friends do this.

Except his heart is racing, and your hair smells like that vanilla shampoo you always use, and you're warm against his side, and nothing about this feels friendly.

"Hoon?"

"Yeah?"

"You'd tell me if something was wrong, right? If you were in trouble or something?"

The question catches him off-guard. "Why do you ask?"

"Because you've been weird lately. Distant. And I'm worried about you." You sit up to look at him properly. "I know something's going on. You don't have to tell me what, but... I want you to know that I'm here. Whatever it is."

He could tell you. Right now, right here, he could tell you everything. About the spider bite eight months ago, about the powers, about spending every night swinging through Seoul trying to keep people safe. About being terrified every second that someone he loves will get hurt because of him.

About how he's been in love with you since freshman year and doesn't know how to say it.

But looking at your open, trusting face, still shaky from almost dying tonight, he can't do it. Can't add another burden to your shoulders.

"I know," he says instead. "And I appreciate it. I'm okay, I promise. Just... stressed with school."

You don't look entirely convinced, but you let it drop. "Okay. But the offer stands."

"Same to you. You scared me tonight. When you texted..." He has to look away. "Just promise me you'll be more careful. Please."

"I promise."

You settle back against him, and this time Sunghoon lets himself enjoy it. Lets himself pretend, just for a moment, that this is something more than friendship. That he has the right to hold you like this, to want to protect you like this.

Your breathing evens out after a while, and Sunghoon realizes you've fallen asleep. He should probably wake you, make sure you get to bed properly. But he can't bring himself to move.

His phone buzzes quietly. A text from Jake.

Jake: You good? Sunghoon: Yeah. I'm with Y/N. Jake: Still think you should tell them. Both things. Sunghoon: I know.

But not tonight. Tonight, you're safe in his arms, and that's enough.

For now, that has to be enough.

When you wake up the next morning, you're in your bed with no memory of getting there. There's a glass of water on your nightstand, your phone plugged in and charging, and a note in Sunghoon's handwriting.

Didn't want to wake you. Make sure you eat breakfast. See you at practice? - SH

You smile despite yourself, then wince as the memories of last night come flooding back. The car. Spider-Man. The weird sense of familiarity you still can't shake.

Your phone has several texts.

Sunghoon: [sent at 11:47 PM] You fell asleep. I'm heading out. Lock your door. Sunghoon: [sent at 11:48 PM] And seriously, be careful today. Please. Jake: [sent at 8:23 AM] heard about last night!! you okay?? Heeseung: [sent at 8:30 AM] JAY JUST TOLD ME YOU ALMOST GOT HIT BY A CAR???? Heeseung: WHY DIDNT YOU TEXT THE GROUP CHAT Jay: [sent at 8:31 AM] Ignore Heeseung. But seriously, you good?

You send a quick message to the group chat assuring everyone you're fine, then stare at Sunghoon's texts.

That worry again. That intense concern that feels like more than friendship but you're too scared to examine too closely.

The way he'd held you last night. Steady and sure and safe.

The way Spider-Man had held you. Desperate and terrified and...

Familiar.

You shake your head. You're being ridiculous. Sunghoon can't be Spider-Man. That's insane. He's a figure skater with a perfect GPA who's never even been in a fight. He's not a superhero.

Right?

...Right?

But as you get ready for morning practice, you can't quite shake the feeling that you're missing something obvious.

Something important.

Something about the way Park Sunghoon looks at you when he thinks you're not paying attention.

[jinilogy]

愛. — ℒ𝗼𝘃𝗲 ℒ𝗮𝗻𝗴𝘂𝗮𝗴𝗲 ( ˡᵒᵛᵉ ʸᵒᵘʳˢᵉˡᶠ, ೀ )

✿ (( in 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗊𝗎𝗂𝖾𝗍 𝗈𝖿 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗇𝗂𝗀𝗁𝗍, 𝗐𝗁𝖾𝗋𝖾 𝖽𝗋𝖾𝖺𝗆𝗌 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗋𝖾𝖺𝗅𝗂𝗍𝗒 𝖻𝗅𝗎𝗋, 𝗂 𝗐𝖾𝖺𝗏𝖾 𝗌𝗍𝗈𝗋𝗂𝖾𝗌 𝗈𝖿 𝗐𝗁𝖺𝗍 𝖼𝗈𝗎𝗅𝖽 𝖻𝖾 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗐𝗁𝖺𝗍 𝗆𝗂𝗀𝗁𝗍 𝗁𝖺𝗏𝖾 𝖻𝖾𝖾𝗇, 𝗐𝗁𝖾𝗋𝖾 𝖾𝗏𝖾𝗋𝗒 𝗎𝗇𝗂𝗏𝖾𝗋𝗌𝖾 𝖿𝖾𝖾𝗅𝗌 𝗅𝗂𝗄𝖾 𝗁𝗈𝗆𝖾 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝖾𝗏𝖾𝗋𝗒 𝗁𝖾𝖺𝗋𝗍 𝖿𝗂𝗇𝖽𝗌 𝗂𝗍𝗌 𝗉𝗅𝖺𝖼𝖾 )) . ༝༚༝༚ ✿ all works are original & created with care. do not repost, translate, or claim as your own on any platform. respect goes both ways. disclaimer these stories are pure fiction & alternate universes. they do not represent real people or events. written for enjoyment & entertainment only. . ༝༚༝༚ ✿ i write for enha and for txt . ༝༚༝༚

𝗔𝗖𝗧 𝒪𝙣𝙚 ── words of affirmation ( ᵗˣᵗ )

CHOI SOOBIN ╰┈➤ 정 ( 𝒂𝒕𝒕𝒂𝒄𝒉𝒎𝒆𝒏𝒕, 𝒆𝒎𝒑𝒂𝒕𝒉𝒚, 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒃𝒐𝒏𝒅𝒊𝒏𝒈 )

⌞one. ✿ after sex⌝

𝗔𝗖𝗧 𝓣𝙬𝙤 ── acts of service ( ᵉⁿʰᵃ )

PARK SUNGHOON ╰┈➤ 노을 ( 𝒔𝒖𝒏𝒔𝒆𝒕, 𝒓𝒐𝒎𝒂𝒏𝒕𝒊𝒄 𝒂𝒎𝒃𝒊𝒂𝒏𝒄𝒆 )

⌞one. ✿ all my life⌝ ── spider-man au ; ❝ when your friendly neighborhood spider-man is the guy who can't look you in the eyes for too long without blushing ❞ x gender neutral reader ⁽ᵗʰᵉʸ/ᵗʰᵉᵐ ᵖʳᵒⁿᵒᵘⁿˢ⁾

LEE HEESEUNG ╰┈➤ 설레다 ( 𝒃𝒖𝒕𝒕𝒆𝒓𝒇𝒍𝒊𝒆𝒔 𝒊𝒏 𝒚𝒐𝒖𝒓 𝒔𝒕𝒐𝒎𝒂𝒄𝒉, 𝒆𝒙𝒄𝒊𝒕𝒆𝒎𝒆𝒏𝒕 )

⌞one. ✿ through the glass⌝ ── ❝ When the love of your life watches you marry someone else from the shadows, some goodbyes come with closure and the haunting echo of what could have been ❞ x female reader ⁽ˢʰᵉ/ʰᵉʳ ᵖʳᵒⁿᵒᵘⁿˢ⁾

[jinilogy]

✿ after sex

愛. — 𝓼oft ᵃⁿᵈ 𝒸ute ,, ᵎ!ᵎ fluff . SOOBIN ⏔⏔⏔ ꒰ ᧔ෆ᧓ ꒱ ⏔⏔⏔

𝓣he room feels smaller now, warmer—like the air itself has changed texture. You can still feel the ghost of his touch lingering on your skin, electric and tender all at once, the kind of sensation that doesn't fade right away. Your heart hasn't quite remembered how to beat normally yet.

Soobin shifts beside you, and the mattress dips with his weight. His arm drapes across your waist, heavy and grounding, and you feel the exhale of his breath against the back of your neck—slow, steady, real. His hair tickles your shoulder, still slightly damp at the ends, and you can smell his shampoo mixed with something distinctly him. Clean cotton and warmth.

"You okay?" His voice comes out raspier than usual, scratching against the quiet in a way that makes your stomach flip.

You hum in response, not quite trusting your voice yet. Your fingers find his hand where it rests against your stomach, and you trace lazy patterns over his knuckles. They're a little red still. His skin is so soft there, softer than people would expect from hands that big.

He presses closer, eliminating what little space existed between your bodies, and you feel his smile against your shoulder blade. "That's not an answer."

"I'm good," you finally manage, voice smaller than intended. "Really good."

The laugh that rumbles through his chest vibrates against your back. "Yeah?"

"Yeah."

A comfortable silence settles over you both, broken only by the sound of breathing synchronizing and the distant hum of traffic outside. The sheets are cool where they're tangled around your legs, a stark contrast to the warmth radiating from everywhere he's touching you. It's overwhelming in the gentlest way possible—too much and somehow not enough.

His thumb starts moving in small circles against your hip, absentminded, soothing. You didn't even realize you were still trembling slightly until his touch steadies you.

"Your heart's still racing," Soobin murmurs, and you can hear the smile in his voice even without seeing his face.

"Whose fault is that?"

He laughs again, and god, you're addicted to that sound—the way it's all breath and genuine amusement, nothing held back. His lips press against your shoulder, your neck, the space behind your ear, each kiss feather-light but burning in its own way. Not trying to start anything, just... appreciating. Savoring.

"Sorry," he whispers against your skin, but he doesn't sound sorry at all.

You turn in his arms, finally facing him, and the sight makes your chest ache in the best way. His hair is an absolute mess, falling into his eyes, and his lips are slightly swollen, cheeks still flushed pink. But it's his eyes that get you—the way they're so soft right now, melting as they take you in like you're something precious.

"Hi," he says, dimples appearing as his smile widens.

"Hi," you echo, reaching up to brush his hair back. It's impossibly soft between your fingers.

He catches your wrist gently, bringing your palm to his lips. The kiss he presses there is tender, lingering, and you feel it everywhere. "You're staring."

"You're pretty."

His ears go red immediately, and he tries to hide his face against your neck, but you feel his smile stretching wider against your skin. "Stop," he mumbles, but his arms tighten around you.

"It's true though."

"You can't just—" He pulls back just enough to look at you, flustered and fond and so, so in love it makes you dizzy. "You can't say stuff like that when I'm trying to be cool."

"You're literally cuddling me. The cool act is over, baby."

He groans dramatically but he's laughing too, and then he's rolling you both so you're tucked perfectly against his chest, his heartbeat steady and strong beneath your ear. One hand comes up to play with your hair, fingers carding through it slowly, carefully working through any tangles.

"Comfortable?" he asks softly.

You nod against him, breathing in the scent of his skin. Your lips brush against his collarbone when you speak. "Could stay like this forever."

"Don't tempt me." His voice is warm, slightly teasing. "I'll call in sick tomorrow. We can just... stay."

The thing is, you know he means it. He'd build a whole world right here in this bed if you asked him to, order takeout and put on terrible movies and hold you through all of it without complaint.

"Tempting," you admit, fingers tracing idle patterns on his chest. You can feel the slight tremor that runs through him at your touch, the way his breath catches just barely. It's intoxicating, this power you have over each other—the way the smallest gestures still feel electric.

"Hey," Soobin says quietly, and something in his tone makes you look up. His expression has gone softer somehow, more vulnerable. His hand comes up to cup your face, thumb brushing across your cheekbone with devastating gentleness. "I love you. Like... a lot."

Your heart does something complicated in your chest. "I love you too. Like... an embarrassing amount."

He grins, leaning down to press his forehead against yours. "Good. Be embarrassing with me."

And really, there's nothing left to say to that except to close the distance between you, kissing him slow and sweet, feeling him smile against your lips. It's different from before—less urgent, more like a promise. Like coming home.

When you finally pull apart, he's looking at you like you hung the moon and personally arranged the stars, and honestly? You'd do it too if he asked.

"C'mere," he murmurs, pulling you back against his chest, wrapping himself around you like he can shield you from the whole world.

And maybe he can't, but right now, in the afterglow of everything, with his heart beating beneath your ear and his fingers drawing constellations on your skin—right now, it feels like he already does.

You fall asleep like that, tangled together, his lips pressed against your temple and his whispered "sweet dreams" following you into the warmth of unconsciousness.