When the tea is finally spilled but I saw it weeks ago in my dreams so now I'm shocked not because of the tea but the fact that my dream came true 🫡😶🌫️🫥
Can I ask for Cortis Keonho ideal type reading? 🙏 I'd love to know his and Seonghyeon but I'm really curious about him first lol
KEONHO (cortis) ˚₊ ࿔₊•— ideal type reading!
──────────────────────────────
— Ideal type (generally/personality)...˚₊ ࿔₊•
He's really specific with what he wants. So this is giving mr the feeling that he wants someone who brightens his life but still like understands the difficulties that come along with everything in his life & theirs. He craves balance & relief so he wants the person to be warm & understanding without being exhasting.
He's really drawn towards people who naturally make the places & environments they're in feel lighter, happier, more alive and even safe. Maybe someone who smiles a lot is what i got? Also like expressive reactions, maybe someone who can comfort others naturally & bring a sorta happiness and warmth into a room. He really likes positivity in others. He also wants someone who makes life easier and doesn't drain him instead like refills his batteries.
He would really respect and like people who've gone through and survived difficult periods in their lives but still try to move forward positively. Like someone who understands pain, pressure, burnout, disappointment or lonliness, could be in the sense of relating. He wouldn't like someone negative at all. But don't try to fake positivity, he can catch on that. He'd rather they be honest when struggling.
He likes people who are humble, grounded or like slightly lowkey instead of being obsessed with attention, validation, popularity or you know showing off constantly. He's someone who at least tries to give as much as he can so he values reciprocity from the other person. Like he wants balance & fairness in relationships. He wouldn't like the relationship feeling one sided, feeling neglected himself or like he has to carry all the effort himself. He wants someone caring, considerate, generous & supportive.
He would be attracted to confidence though too. Not confidence that's maybe too much, like cold and/or arrogance. Instead like someone magnetic without trying too hard. Probably someone that has like a strong feminine energy or presence, again confidence, warmth too though and more. He likes people who know themselves well & stand up for themselves without always shrinking themselves for others.
I feel like he personally might struggle with making decisions regarding his emotions & fully trusting relationships easily. So basically his ideal type might need patience with him. Which makes sense when you realize he's attracted to people who help him feel calm & safe.
— Physical appearance ideal type... ˚₊ ࿔₊•
If there's anything that catches his eyes and makes him notices others it would be movements, expressions, energy, posture & more. Someone that makes them stand out. Someone with an expressive face & expressive body language, more exactly like lively facial expressions, maybe noticeable eyes or smile, something fast & energetic just an appearance that's very memorable. Still though i would lean on more softer or sweeter facial features rather than really sharp or lowkey aggressive type of beauty. Like rounder eyes or like softer eyes that are expressive and that look emotional or innocent somehow? soft lips, a youthful face that also looks gentle & a cute smile too. Just a more approachable & expressive beauty than intimidating.
But i do get a fascination with striking or unexpected features that grab his attention. Could be like a very noticeable height ( very tall or maybe very short? Again a big focus on the eyes, something unusual but still attractive, i can say a sharp nose or jawline that would obviously contrast with his softer features is very attractive to him, maybe bold style? For hair colors like dark brown, black, just like chocolaty.
He just really enjoys someones whose appearance genuinely shocks or causes an impact to them.
I think he'd like longer legs, nice & balanced proportions, maybe even someone more naturally curvy or more like slender instead of extremely skinny, like an elegant posture, a healthy but still soft physique, just something you can tell is well kept.
📬 ❤︎ bf!keonho 𝔁 gf!reader ─── ৻ꪆ watching spiderman: brand new day with your boyfriend but… there’s a twist?
❤︎ warnings+tags ─── ৻ꪆ non-idol au · fluff · aged up (college/uni?) · movie date · very very mild violence (pocket knife mentioned once) · slight swearing
💌 ❤︎ notes ─── ৻ꪆ everyb say ty to whoever because spiderman bnd releases one day early in the country i’m in rn 🤤🤤 i’m going to the 10 AM show in a while 😈😈 @ everyone who prayed on my downfall, pray HARDER losers 😹😁
❤︎ wc ─── ৻ꪆ 9.4k
𝄞 𓏸 my cortispilledmasterlist »﹙合﹚
❝ tracklist ❞ ─── upside down kiss—txt ❦ fever—enha ❦ out of time—the weeknd ❦ guilty—taemin ❦ bed chem—sabrina carpenter ❦ chasing that feeling—txt ❦ pretty please—dua lipa ❦ mago—gfriend ❦ lunch—billie eilish ❦ un village—baekhyun ❦ one of your girls—troye sivan ❦ cool with you—njz ❦ die for you—the weeknd & ariana grande ❦ impurities—le srfm
it was exactly 9:14 AM on july 30th and you were currently vibrating at a frequency that could probably shatter glass.
you were dragging keonho by his wrist down the sidewalk, your grip so tight he was probably losing circulation, but honestly? this was a matter of life and death. spiderman: brand new day was premiering at exactly 10:00 AM—the very first showing. the absolute first day, first show. if you didn’t get there before the trailers started, you were going to combust into a cloud of pure, unadulterated spoilers. you had blocked every single variation of the word ‘spider’ on tumblr, instagram, twitter, tiktok, and even linkedin just in case some rogue recruiter decided to post a movie leak under the guise of a ‘motivational career lesson.’
“yn, please,” keonho wheezed, his long legs trying to keep up with your olympic-level speed-walking. “the theatre is literally three blocks away. we have forty-six minutes. why are we running like the green goblin is actively throwing pumpkin bombs at our heels?”
“because, keonho!” you gasped, not slowing down for even a second, your hair flying wildly behind you. “you don’t understand the significance of this. if i see even one frame of this movie on a random tiktok post before my eyes witness it on the big screen, i will physically perish. and more importantly, you need to be fully prepared. i’m not having you ask me who someone is mid-movie. this is a sacred space.”
keonho let out a soft, incredibly fond sigh, letting himself be dragged along. he was wearing an oversized grey hoodie that practically swallowed him, his soft black hair slightly messy from the morning breeze. he looked so soft and harmless, just a regular, slightly sleepy college-aged boyfriend who had been bribed out of bed with the promise of a large cherry tango slushie and a giant tub of sweet popcorn.
“okay, okay,” he chuckled, his voice still carrying that low, gravelly morning tone that usually made your brain short-circuit—but today, the spider-hyperfixation was far too strong to be defeated by pretty boy charms. “i’m listening. educate me, professor yn.”
“thank you,” you said solemnly, adjusting the strap of your bag. “now, listen closely. you need to understand the fundamental tragedy of the peter parker ethos. it’s all about the sliding doors of the multiverse. in the previous trilogy, which you insisted on sleeping through during our movie night—”
“i didn’t sleep through it, i was just resting my eyes during the parts where they weren’t swinging—”
“you slept for two hours, keonho! you snored during the green goblin’s monologue!” you accused, pointing an accusatory finger at him without breaking your stride. “anyway. the point is, this new movie, brand new day, is supposed to soft-reboot the timeline after the memory wipe spell. peter is completely alone. nobody remembers him. not mj, not ned, not even the local deli owner who makes his sandwiches. he’s living in a tiny, depressing apartment, sewing his own suit with a sewing machine that probably runs on hopes and dreams, and he has nothing. but he still goes out every night to save people because of the responsibility, keonho! ‘with great power comes great responsibility’ isn’t just a cool quote, it’s a curse! it’s a lifestyle!”
keonho’s eyes softened in a weirdly specific way as you said that. he looked down at the pavement, a tiny, almost melancholic smile tugging at the corner of his lips. “yeah,” he murmured, so quietly you almost didn’t hear him over the sound of a passing bus. “it really is.”
“exactly!” you cheered, completely missing his oddly profound tone. “so, in this movie, there are rumors that because of the residual multiversal energy from the last movie, his universe might be bleeding into other ones again. which means we might get cameos. we might get the other spiders! we might get some crazy comic-book lore like the spider-society or the web of life and destiny! i hope hobie’s there, even though it’s unlikely… well, i guess we’ll have to wait for 2027’s beyond the spider-verse till i can see hobie again—keonho, are you following me? do you understand the gravity of the situation?”
“i’m following, sweetheart,” keonho smiled, his eyes crinkling at the corners. he reached out and gently took your hand, slowing your frantic pace down just a tiny fraction so you wouldn’t trip over a cracked piece of concrete. “so, basically, guy gets bitten by a radioactive bug, loses his uncle, gets cool powers, loses his girlfriend, gets forgotten by the entire universe, and still decides to put on skin-tight spandex to fight crime instead of going to therapy.”
“i mean… when you put it like that, it sounds ridiculous, but yes. that’s the emotional core of the character,” you said, pulling him into the theatre lobby.
the cool blast of air conditioning hit your face, immediately followed by the glorious, life-giving scent of artificial butter and popping corn. the lobby was relatively empty since it was a thursday morning, but there were still a few dedicated nerds wearing spiderman graphic tees and hoodies. you instantly felt like you were among your people.
“stay here,” you commanded, tapping keonho’s chest. “i’m going to get the tickets and the holy grail of snacks. do not talk to anyone. do not look at your phone. do not let anyone spoil anything.”
“yes, captain,” he replied, giving you a mock salute. he leaned his back against a pillar, stuffing his hands into his hoodie pocket, watching you with that same incredibly soft, amused expression as you practically bounced over to the concession stand.
five minutes later, you returned bearing gifts: a tub of popcorn large enough to bathe a newborn infant in, two massive slushies—one blue, and the other red—and a bag of sour patch kids. keonho immediately took the heavy popcorn tub from you, offering a grateful smile.
as you walked down the dimly lit hallway toward screen 4-2, you were still whispering furiously under your breath. “okay, so there’s also the whole thing about his spider-sense. it’s not just a warning system, you know? it’s a physical reaction. his adrenaline spikes, his pupils dilate, the hairs on his arms stand up. it’s like a constant state of hyper-awareness. it must be so exhausting, honestly. imagine never being able to be startled because your brain just knows when a stray pigeon is about to fly into your face three seconds before it happens.”
keonho let out a sudden, choked sort of laugh, coughing slightly into his sleeve. “yeah. yeah, that... that sounds incredibly annoying. especially the pigeon thing. they’re so unpredictable.”
“right? you get it!” you beamed, feeling incredibly proud of your boyfriend’s sudden engagement in the lore.
you found your seats—dead center, row f, the objectively superior viewing angle for any cinema purist. you settled into the plush seats, kicking your legs slightly in pure excitement as the lights began to dim. you leaned over to keonho, whispering fiercely, “this is it, okay? quiet time. no talking unless it’s a mutual gasp of sheer disbelief.”
“got it, sweetheart,” he whispered back, taking a sip of his blue raspberry slushie.
for the next two hours and fifteen minutes, you were completely locked in. you went through a rollercoaster of emotions. you gasped, you clutched keonho’s arm so hard you probably left bruises, you stuffed handfuls of popcorn into your mouth without looking, and you definitely shed a tear or two when peter looked at mj from across the counter of the donut shop and decided not to tell her who he was to keep her safe.
but throughout the entire movie, you noticed something weird. whenever a major plot twist was about to happen—like, seconds before it actually registered on screen—keonho would react.
when a random character turned out to be a disguised villain in a split-second reveal, keonho didn’t even flinch. in fact, he actually sighed right before the reveal happened, like he was tired of the cliché. when spiderman dodged a projectile from a blind spot in a highly complex, visually stunning action sequence, keonho’s eyes didn’t widen in surprise; they just tracked the exact trajectory of the dodge perfectly, as if he knew exactly where the character was going to land.
and most bizarre of all: during a scene where spiderman was trying to web-swing through a particularly tight alleyway and clipped his shoulder against a fire escape, keonho literally winced and muttered, “ugh, i told him he needs to tuck his shoulder more on the left turns,” under his breath.
you had blinked, turning to look at him in the dim glow of the screen. “what?” you whispered.
keonho froze, his eyes widening slightly. he quickly stuffed a handful of popcorn into his mouth, chewing furiously. “nothing. i said... ugh, he should have tucked his shoulder. it looks like it hurt.”
“oh. yeah. totally,” you whispered back, though a tiny, suspicious seed had been planted in your brain.
when the credits finally rolled, you sat there in a state of absolute shock. the lights slowly came back on, illuminating the empty theatre. you were emotionally drained, physically exhausted from the sheer hype, and utterly satisfied.
“that,” you breathed, staring blankly at the screen as the names scrolled by, “was the greatest piece of cinema to ever exist. the cinematography? the soundtrack? the emotional weight of his isolation? 10 out of 10. absolute masterpiece.”
“it was pretty good,” keonho agreed, stretching his long arms over his head. his joints let out a series of alarmingly loud, rapid pops that sounded like bubble wrap being crushed.
you winced at the sound. “jesus, keonho, are you decaying? how do your shoulders even make that noise?”
“just stiff,” he said smoothly, offering you a sweet, innocent smile. “shall we go? my legs are cramping up.”
“yes, but we have to talk about the choreography,” you insisted, grabbing your trash and sliding out of the row. “the way he did that mid-air twist to dodge the glider? that was insane! like, the physics of that shouldn’t even work. you’d have to have, like, zero bone density and pure muscle memory to pull off a 360-degree flip while suspended by a single thread of web. it’s unrealistic, but so cool.”
“actually, the physics does work,” keonho said casually as you both walked out into the bright daylight of the street. the sun was blindingly hot, making you squint. “you just have to use the centrifugal force from the initial swing to propel your lower body upward first. if you try to spin from the waist, you’ll just stall out and face-plant into the brickwork. it’s all about the hip rotation and releasing the web at the exact apex of the arc.”
you stopped dead in your tracks on the sidewalk.
a group of teenagers walked past you, laughing, but you didn’t hear them. your brain was currently trying to process the words that had just come out of your boyfriend’s mouth. you turned your head slowly, like a character in a horror movie, to look at him. keonho had stopped a few paces ahead of you. he had his hands in his pockets, looking back at you with a slightly confused expression.
“what?” he asked, tilting his head.
“how…” you started, your voice barely a whisper. “how do you know that?”
“know what?”
“about the hip rotation,” you said, taking a step closer to him, your eyes narrowing into tiny slits of extreme suspicion. was he secretly… a spiderman nerd? “and the centrifugal force. and the... the face-planting into the brickwork. keonho, you don’t even watch gymnastics. you fell off a standing bike last week.”
“that was a mechanical failure!” he protested quickly, his cheeks flushing pink. “the pedal was loose!”
“keonho,” you said, your voice dropping an octave. “during the movie. when the glider scene happened. you winced before he got hit. and you muttered something about tucking the shoulder on left turns. who is ‘he’? who were you talking about?”
keonho’s expression went completely blank. he looked like a computer that had just been hit with a blue screen of death. his eyes darted to the left, then to the right, then up to the sky, as if looking for an escape route.
“i... i didn’t say that,” he stammered, his voice pitching slightly higher than usual. “you must’ve misheard me. the theatre speakers were really loud. i probably said... ‘he should eat more... cold turnips.’ yeah. nutrition is important.”
“cold turnips?” you repeated, deadpan. “are you serious right now? you expect me to believe you were advocating for root vegetable consumption in the middle of a climax action sequence?”
“turnips are a great source of vitamin c, yn,” he said, nodding solemnly, though a bead of sweat was visibly rolling down his temple.
you took another step closer, backing him up against the brick wall of a closed storefront. you leaned in, staring directly into his dark eyes. “and what about the part where you didn’t even react to the big twist? the one where the guy in the alley turned out to be mysterio’s illusion? you literally yawned, keonho. you yawned!”
“i was tired! we got up early!”
“you didn’t even jump when the jump scare happened!”
“i have strong nerves!”
“keonho…” you whispered, your heart starting to beat at a ridiculous pace. a wild, absolutely insane, completely delusional thought was starting to form in your mind. but... this was the multiverse. you knew the multiverse was real. there had been scientific anomalies reported on the news for the past year—weird spatial distortions, strange sky-glows, that one time a literal giant portal opened over downtown seoul for three minutes before vanishing. the government called it ‘atmospheric pressure events’, but the internet knew the truth. the multiverse was real.
and your boyfriend… your sweet, sleepy, turnip-advocating boyfriend…
“no way,” you breathed, your eyes widening to the size of dinner plates. “no. fucking. way. there is no shot. there is zero percent chance.”
“yn, you’re looking at me weird,” keonho said, his shoulder muscles tensing up. “you’re doing the ‘i’ve cracked a conspiracy theory’ face… please don’t do the face—”
“are you…” you gulped, lowering your voice to a conspiratorial whisper. “are you... him?”
“who?”
“the guy who web-swings. the guy who wears the weird tight spandex. the guy who tucks his shoulder on left turns.”
keonho stared at you. his lips parted slightly, and he looked incredibly stressed. “sweetheart, that’s a fictional character. we just watched a movie about him. he’s played by an actor and has really good cgi.”
“but the multiverse is real!” you hissed, grabbing his hoodie strings and pulling him down to your eye level. “you know it is! the news reports! the sky portals! and... and your joints! they pop like that because you’re constantly doing acrobatics! and you eat like three pizzas in one sitting and never gain weight! and... and yesterday! yesterday i dropped a mug and you caught it behind your back without even looking! you said it was ‘fast reflexes’ but nobody has reflexes that fast unless they have a sixth sense!”
“i just have good hand-eye coordination—”
“show me your hands,” you demanded.
“what? no—”
“show me your hands, ahn keonho!”
“...i don’t know who ahn keonho is!” he protested, but it was too late. you grabbed his right hand, pulling it out of his pocket.
you turned his palm over. there, right at the base of his wrist, was a tiny, faint, circular scar that looked suspiciously like a healed-over puncture wound. but more importantly, you noticed something else. you pressed your fingers against his palm.
“why is your skin so... grippy?” you whispered, feeling the microscopic ridges on his fingertips that felt almost like sandpaper, but softer. “you’re sticky. keonho, you’re sticky.”
“that’s just syrup from the sour patch kids!” he pleaded, his face now bright red. “i swear! i’m just sticky from the candy!”
“we didn’t even open the sour patch kids yet, dumbass. they’re literally still in my bag.”
silence fell over the sidewalk. keonho stared at you, and you stared back at him. a gentle breeze blew past, rustling the leaves of a nearby tree. slowly, the frantic, panicked expression on keonho’s face began to melt away. it was replaced by a deep, heavy, incredibly defeated sigh. his shoulders slumped. he let his head drop forward, resting his forehead against your shoulder with a quiet groan.
“i hate you,” he mumbled into your neck. “you’re too smart for your own good. i literally tried so hard—i’ve been doing this for two years and you figure it out because of a shoulder-tucking comment.”
your entire body went numb. your soul left your physical form, hovered in the air for a second to process the information, and then slammed back into your chest.
“oh my god—” you screamed.
he immediately clamped a hand over your mouth, his eyes wide with sheer panic. “shh! shh! quiet! do you want the entire neighborhood to know? there are literal government agencies that would love to dissect me, yn!”
you nodded furiously, your eyes watering from excitement behind his hand. he slowly let his hand slip away, looking at you warily.
“you’re spiderman,” you whispered, your voice trembling with pure, unadulterated ecstasy. “my boyfriend is spiderman. the actual spiderman? like, the web-slinger, wall-crawler, the friendly neighborhood hero.”
“yes,” he sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. “yeah, i am.”
“do the thing,” you demanded instantly.
“what thing?”
“the web-shooter thing! shoot a web at that trash can!”
“what? no! i’m not shooting webs in broad daylight on a busy street!” he hissed, grabbing your wrists to keep you from flailing. “are you crazy? also, my web-shooters are mechanical, i’m not wearing them right now. they’re in my backpack.”
“you have a backpack? the classic spiderman backpack that you web to the wall of an alleyway?”
“yes, and i’ve lost like twelve of them because sanitation workers keep taking them down,” he grumbled, looking genuinely annoyed. “do you know how expensive graphing calculators are? i’ve had to buy three this semester alone.’
you were practically vibrating out of your shoes. “this is the greatest day of my life. forget the movie. this is better. this is ten thousand times better. wait, so... the movie we just watched? how did you know the plot?”
keonho sighed, gently guiding you to start walking again so you wouldn’t look suspicious standing in the middle of the sidewalk. “because, yn... the guy who wrote that movie? he’s from a universe where my life is apparently a comic book. the multiversal leak from last year didn’t just bring portals, it brought media crossover. some writer in another dimension literally had a dream about my life and wrote a script about it. they changed the name to ‘peter parker’ to protect my identity—which, thank god, because ‘ahn keonho’ is not a very common spiderman name—but the plot is basically exactly what happened to me last year.”
“wait,” you paused, looking at him. “so... you had a memory-wipe spell cast on you?”
“no, we don’t have a wizard in our universe, sweetheart,” he clarified, rolling his eyes. “but i did have to go off the grid because a rogue tech company hacked my personal database. i had to erase my entire digital footprint, fake my own death for three weeks, and live in a horribly damp basement eating instant ramen while trying to clear my name. it was incredibly stressful and i didn’t even get a cool magic circle out of it.”
“oh my god,” you gasped, clutching your chest. “my poor baby. you were so lonely.”
“i was!” he complained, suddenly turning into a giant, pouty toddler. “and i couldn’t even text you! i had to watch you from a distance to make sure you were safe, and you were just... sitting in your room eating dry cereal and crying over an emotional k-pop compilation video. i wanted to swing in through your window so badly.”
“you should have!” you yelled. “i would have shared my cereal!”
“you would have screamed and hit me with a broom, baby, let’s be realistic now,” he pointed out.
“...okay, fair point,” you admitted. “but still! oh my god. you’re spiderman. this explains everything. the weird bruises! the times you ‘fell down the stairs’! the fact that you can do a backflip over our couch without even warming up! the time you saved that stray cat from the roof of the library by ‘climbing a very sturdy drainpipe’!”
“drainpipes are very reliable,” he mumbled, his cheeks burning.
“you’re a terrible liar, keonho. i can’t believe i fell for the drainpipe story.” you grabbed his arm, squeezing his bicep. “wait. if you’re spiderman... that means you’re, like, super strong, right?”
“i mean... yeah. i can lift a city bus if i really try, though it usually gives me a terrible backache the next day.”
“lift me,” you said instantly.
“what?”
“lift me! right now! bridal style! show me the spider-strength!”
“sweetheart, we’re in public—”
“there’s literally nobody on this street right now! lift me or i will tell the deli owner down the street that you’re the one who keeps webbing his awning!”
keonho gasped, looking betrayed. “you wouldn’t.”
“wouldn’t i?”
with a dramatic, long-suffering sigh, he looked around to make sure no one was watching. in a fraction of a second, before you could even blink, his arms slipped under your knees and your back. with absolutely zero effort—like he was picking up a feather—he scooped you up into his arms.
you let out a squeak of delight as you felt completely weightless. his chest felt like solid marble beneath his soft hoodie, and his grip was incredibly secure.
“oh my god,” you whispered, wrapping your arms around his neck. “you’re so strong. this is ridiculous. you’re like a human crane.”
“are you satisfied, your highness?” he asked, a playful, arrogant little smirk finally breaking through his nervous exterior. he bounced you slightly in his arms, making you laugh.
“highly satisfied. but… there is one more thing.”
his smirk instantly vanished. he looked wary again. “what?”
“you know what day it is.”
“thursday?”
“no, stupid. it’s the premiere day of spiderman. and i have a bucket list.” you grinned, a mischievous, chaotic spark lighting up your eyes. “we’re currently three minutes away from the neighborhood playground. the one with the really high monkey bars and the big oak tree.”
keonho stared at you. he slowly put you down, his face pale. “no. absolutely not.”
“yes!” you squealed, grabbing his hand and pulling him toward the park. “you have to! it’s a cinematic law! if you’re spiderman and i’m your girlfriend, we need to recreate the upside-down kiss!”
“yn, that’s so dangerous! my blood’ll rush to my head, i’ll get a headache! also, how am i even going to hang upside down without a mask? people will see my face!”
“we’ll do it under the big oak tree! the leaves are super thick, nobody can see inside! and you don’t need a mask, i know what your face looks like! please, keonho! prettiest please ever… i’ll buy you the expensive garlic bread from the bakery! the one with the triple cheese!”
he paused. his eyes wavered. “the triple cheese?”
“with the dipping sauce that you like,” you added, sealing the deal.
he closed his eyes, praying to whatever multiversal deity was listening for strength. “...fine. but if i drop you, or if i get a cramp in my calves, we’re going home immediately.”
“deal!” you practically dragged him into the park. luckily, because it was a hot thursday afternoon, the playground was completely empty. the sun was beating down, but the massive, ancient oak tree in the corner provided a perfect, secluded canopy of deep shade.
you both scrambled under the low-hanging branches. the ground was covered in soft grass and fallen leaves.
“okay,” you said, turning to him with a serious, business-like expression. “how do we do this? do you just... jump up there?”
keonho looked up at the thick branch dangling about ten feet above you. “yeah. i just... jump.”
he took off his backpack, setting it carefully against the trunk of the tree. he reached into the front pocket and pulled out two sleek, metallic wristbands. he clicked them onto his wrists with a satisfying clack-clack.
“oh my god, the web-shooters,” you whispered, staring at them like they were holy relics. “they’re so beautiful. can i touch them?”
“after the kiss,” he smiled, his confidence returning. “stand back a bit.”
you took a few steps back.
he bent his knees slightly. with absolutely no run-up, he simply... sprang upward. it looked like gravity had temporarily forgotten to apply to him. he launched into the air, caught the thick oak branch with his knees, swung his body downward, and suspended himself perfectly upside down, his arms dangling toward the ground.
his hoodie fell over his face for a second, and he quickly blew a breath of air to push it back, revealing his flushed, upside-down face. his messy black hair hung downward, defying gravity in a way that was honestly extremely attractive.
“well?” he said, his voice sounding slightly muffled from the position. “how’s this?”
you stood there, completely starstruck. your boyfriend was literally hanging upside down from a tree like a giant, beautiful, extremely dorky bat.
“you’re so cool,” you whispered, walking over to him.
you stopped right in front of him. because he was hanging from a relatively low branch, his face was perfectly level with yours. you looked into his eyes, which were sparkling with mischief and affection.
“okay,” you said, your heart doing flip-flops. “now, for cinematic accuracy… i have to peel down your mask. but since you don’t have one…”
you reached out, your hands trembling slightly as you gently grabbed the hood of his grey sweatshirt. you pulled it down, exposing his forehead and his messy hair even more.
“close enough,” you whispered.
keonho chuckled, the sound vibration buzzing through the quiet space under the tree. “you’re a nerd, you know that?”
“i’m your nerd,” you corrected. “and you are literally spiderman, so you have no room to talk.”
“fair point,” he murmured.
he reached up with his hands, gently framing your face. his palms were warm, and you could feel that slight, unique, grippy texture of his skin against your cheeks. it didn’t feel weird; it felt incredibly grounding.
he tilted his head slightly to adjust for the upside-down angle.
“with great power,” he whispered, his eyes shifting to your lips, “come great kissing privileges.”
“that is not the line, keonho—” you laughed, but before you could say anything else, he closed the distance.
the kiss was... incredible. it was soft, warm, and slightly dizzying—partly because of the sheer thrill of the moment, and partly because of the gravity-defying angle. his lips moved against yours with a familiar, deep tenderness, but there was an added spark of excitement that made your knees feel weak. you reached up, wrapping your hands around the back of his neck, pulling him closer.
for a few seconds, the entire world disappeared. there were no portals, no rogue tech companies, no movie premieres, and no responsibilities. there was just you, a shady oak tree, and the boy who loved you enough to hang upside down from a branch just to make your silly movie dreams come true.
when he finally pulled back, he let out a soft breath, his eyes crinkling. “how was that? cinematic enough?”
“11 out of 10,” you beamed, your face flushed red. “the academy is shaking. tom holland is crying in a corner.”
keonho laughed, but then his face suddenly went pale. his eyes widened. “uh oh,” he muttered.
“what? what’s wrong?”
“my... my left calf,” he grimaced, his body tensing up. “it’s... it’s cramping. yn, it’s cramping really bad.”
“oh, uh—grab the branch!” you yelled.
“i can’t! if i move my leg, i’m going to—”
with a sudden, undignified yelp, keonho’s grip slipped. he fell straight down, landing flat on his back in the grass with a loud thud.
you stood over him, horrified but also trying desperately not to laugh as he curled into a fetal position on the grass, clutching his left leg.
“ow, ow, ow,” he groaned, his face pressed into the clover. “the spider-strength does not protect against lactic acid buildup. ow.”
you burst out laughing, dropping to your knees beside him and gently massaging his calf. “see? i told you! you need to stretch before you do acrobatics, spiderman!”
“i hate you,” he whined, though he let you massage his leg, a soft, defeated smile returning to his face. “but... you still owe me that triple cheese garlic bread.”
“of course,” you smiled, leaning down to kiss his cheek. “anything for my friendly neighborhood boyfriend.”
after about ten minutes of you vigorously massaging keonho’s calf while he made noises that sounded like a dying walrus, the cramp finally subsided. he lay flat on his back in the grass, staring up through the canopy of the oak tree, looking completely drained of all life and dignity.
“are you alive?” you asked, poking his cheek with your index finger. “do i need to administer mouth-to-mouth or does the spider-physiologic system have an automatic self-reboot function?”
“i’m dead,” keonho mumbled, closing his eyes. “just leave me here. tell my professors i died doing what i loved: being bullied by my girlfriend and failing to recreate iconic early 2000s cinema stunts.”
“oh, shut up,” you laughed, plonking yourself down on the grass right next to him. the smell of crushed clover and warm summer earth was thick in the air. “you did great. the kiss was literally perfect. the landing... well, we can work on the landing. maybe some hamstring stretches before our next date.”
“there is no ‘next date’ involving trees,” he groaned, but he slowly rolled onto his side to face you, propping his head up with one hand. his black hair was completely messy now, decorated with a few small dry leaves and twigs. you couldn’t help but reach out and gently brush them out of his hair, your fingers lingering in the soft strands.
he watched you do it, his dark eyes incredibly soft. “you’re really not freaked out?” he asked quietly, his voice dropping into that gentle, sincere tone that made your heart do a little loop-de-loop. “like… at all? you’re not worried that i’m constantly in danger, or that i’ve been lying to you for months?”
you paused, your hand resting on his temple. this was the same guy who always insisted on walking on the street-side of the sidewalk, who bought you chocolate when you were stressed about exams, and who once spent three hours trying to assemble a flat-pack bookshelf for you, only to end up putting the back panel on upside down. he was also the guy who swung through the skyscrapers of the city at night, catching falling helicopters and trading punches with weirdos.
“of course i was a little mad for like, a split second, because you’re a terrible liar,” you admitted, giving his nose a playful boop. “but freaked out? absolutely not. keonho, you’re a hero. you save people. and the fact that you still make time to watch dumb movies with me and hold my hand even though you probably have a million bruises under that hoodie… it just makes me love you more. plus, i get bragging rights. my boyfriend is literally the friendly neighborhood spiderman. do you know how much clout i have now? even if i can never tell anyone, the inner knowledge is enough to sustain my ego for the next thousand years.”
he let out a soft, breathless laugh, his cheeks dusting with pink. “you’re so ridiculous. my life is a constant, anxiety-inducing mess of balancing college physics, a part-time job, and saving the city, and your first thought is clout.”
“duh,” you scoffed, crossing your arms. “but seriously… can i see the web-shooters now? you promised.”
he rolled his eyes but smiled, sitting up and unclicking the sleek, metallic bands from his wrists. he handed one of them over to you like it was a fragile glass slipper. you held it in both hands, marveling at the engineering. it was incredibly lightweight, made of a dark, brushed titanium-like metal, with a tiny, glowing blue LED indicator near the nozzle. “this is insane. did you build this yourself? in your tiny college dorm room?”
“yeah,” he said, rubbing the back of his neck, looking a bit shy. “the chemistry department at school has a really great lab, and the professors don’t really pay attention to what chemicals are being checked out as long as you clean up after yourself. the web fluid is basically a liquid nylon polymer with a high tensile strength that solidifies upon contact with air. i had to cook it on a hot plate next to my ramen.”
“you cooked highly volatile multiversal web fluid next to your shin ramyun?” you stared at him. “keonho, if you had blown up the building, the headlines would have been so embarrassing. ‘local student perishes in noodle-based chemistry mishap’—”
“yah, it worked!” he defended himself, pointing at the shooter in your hand. “and it’s not volatile. it’s actually completely biodegradable. after about two hours, it dissolves into a harmless powder. otherwise, the city sanitation department would have sued me into oblivion by now.”
“can i try it?” you asked, your eyes shining with dangerous excitement.
“absolutely not,” he said instantly, reaching for it.
“please? just one tiny bit of web? just a little thwip? please, baby, i’ll let you eat the middle part of the garlic bread, the really soft, buttery part.”
keonho froze, his hand hovering over the shooter. you could see the internal struggle playing out on his face. the triple cheese garlic bread was his ultimate weakness, and the soft middle part was practically a holy experience.
“just… one?” he negotiated warily. “and you have to point it at something completely inanimate. and not at me. and definitely not at that pigeon over there.l
“deal!” you squealed, quickly slipping the band onto your wrist. it was a bit loose on you, but you held it steady with your other hand. you raised your arm, copying the iconic hand gesture—middle and ring finger pressed down to your palm. “okay, how hard do i press?”
“just a quick, firm tap on the palm trigger,” he instructed, leaning over your shoulder, his chest pressed against your back as he guided your wrist. “don’t hold it down, or you’ll release a giant web-bomb and we’ll both be stuck to this tree until three in the afternoon.”
“okay, okay, here goes,” you breathed. you aimed at a thick, sturdy-looking wooden post near the empty swing set.
you pressed your fingers down.
thwip!
with a high-pitched hiss, a thin, white line of webbing shot out of the nozzle at blinding speed. it hit the wooden post dead center, wrapping around it instantly with a satisfying splat sound.
“oh my god!” you screamed, jumping up and down. “i did it! i’m spider-woman! i’m the ghost-spider! call me gwen stacy!”
“please don’t call yourself gwen stacy, that usually doesn’t end well for spider-girlfriends,” he muttered, though he was grinning from ear to ear at your sheer joy. “but yeah, nice shot. you actually have decent aim.”
you turned around, your eyes wide. “wait, let me try to pull it!” you grabbed the line of webbing. it felt incredibly strong, like a thin, rubbery cable, but it was slightly sticky to the touch. you gave it a hard yank. the wooden post, which was apparently not as firmly anchored into the dirt as you thought, let out a loud crack and tipped over, crashing loudly into the woodchips.
you both froze.
“uh,” you said.
“yn,” keonho said, his voice very calm, very flat. “did you just vandalise a public park using my illegal vigilante technology?”
“i didn’t mean to!” you whispered-yelled, quickly taking the wristband off and shoving it back into his hands. “the wood was rotten! it was a structural hazard! i actually did the city a favor by identifying a safety risk for the local children, you know? i’m a public servant.”
“sure, let’s go with that explanation when the park rangers show up,” keonho chuckled, quickly packing the web-shooters back into his backpack. he swung the bag over his shoulder and offered you his hand, pulling you up from the grass. “come on, spider-vandal. let’s get out of here before someone accuses us of destroying city property.”
you both scrambled out from under the oak tree, laughing like idiots as you jogged out of the park. the adrenaline was still pumping through your veins, and you felt an incredible, giddy high. you kept sneaking glances at keonho as you walked down the sidewalk. he looked so normal—just a tall boy in a hoodie—but now you finally knew the truth. you knew that under that hoodie was a body capable of defying physics, and a heart brave enough to protect the whole city.
“okay, so,” you started, wrapping your arm through his as you walked toward the commercial street where the bakery was. “now that i’m officially your ‘guy in the chair’, we need to establish some ground rules.”
“my guy in the chair?” keonho raised an eyebrow. “i don’t even have a chair. i usually just sit on the edge of a billboard and eat a sandwich while looking at google maps.”
“well, now you have a chair, and it’s my desk chair, which has a very ergonomic memory foam cushion,” you declared. “rule number one: no more lying about your injuries. if you get a bruise, you don’t ‘fall down the stairs’. you tell me, and i will bring you ice and frozen peas. rule number two: i get to name your villains.”
keonho let out a loud, snorting laugh. “name my villains? why would you need to do that, sweetheart?”
“because real-life villain names are probably so boring,” you argued. “what do they call themselves? corporate criminals? tech developers? no. we need comic-book flare. like, if some guy tries to rob a bank using magnetic boots, his name is electro-slide. if a guy tries to steal a bunch of diamonds using a laser-cutter, he’s the crystal-slicer. it builds brand recognition, keonho. it’s about the marketing.”
“baby, i don’t think the guys trying to steal copper wire from construction sites care about marketing,” he pointed out, amused.
“they will when i write articles about them on my speculative blog,” you insisted. “rule number three: you have to take me web-swinging like tom’s spiderman does with his mj. at least once, but like, in a safe, non-traumatising environment. like over a lake… or a very soft field of mattresses.”
keonho’s expression softened, and he squeezed your hand. “i can do that. but we’re starting low. like, ten feet off the ground. and you have to wear a helmet.”
“a helmet? keonho, that ruins the aesthetic! how am i supposed to look like a cool, breezy superhero girlfriend if i’m wearing a fuckass yellow bicycle helmet with cartoon dinosaurs on it?”
“you’ll look like a safe superhero girlfriend,” he said firmly. “no helmet, no swing. those are my terms.”
“fine,” you huffed, though you were secretly melting at how protective he was.
as you turned the corner onto the main street, the heavenly, rich aroma of freshly baked yeast, roasted garlic, and melted butter hit you like a physical wave. the local bakery, le petit crunch, was famous for its specialty breads, and you could see the daily special board sitting outside on the pavement: TODAY’S SPECIAL: TRIPLE CHEESE GARLIC BAGUETTE (LIMITED QUANTITY).
“there it is,” you whispered, pointing at the sign like it was the holy grail. “our prize.”
“oh, thank god,” keonho breathed, his stomach letting out a loud, rumbling growl right on cue. “my metabolism is currently screaming. i think i burned about three thousand calories just hanging from that tree.”
“then let us feast, my spider-knight,” you said, pulling him toward the door.
inside, the bakery was cozy and warm, filled with the golden glow of display cases packed with croissants, tarts, and freshly baked loaves. a middle-aged woman behind the counter, mrs. kim, smiled warmly at you both as you walked in. she was a regular face in the neighborhood and knew you both well.
“ah, the lovely couple!” she beamed. “here for the garlic bread, i assume? i saved the biggest, cheesiest one in the back just for you two.”
“ah, mrs. kim, you’re an angel sent from the heavens,” you said, placing your hands on the counter. “we’ll take that, and two iced americanos, please. extra large.”
“coming right up!” she chirped, turning around to retrieve the legendary loaf and instructing her son, juhoon, to take care of a far away table.
keonho leaned against the counter next to you, looking incredibly content. he reached over, lightly tracing a circle on the back of your hand with his thumb. you smiled up at him, feeling a wave of pure, cozy happiness. this was perfect. a quiet morning movie, a dramatic superhero reveal in a park, and now a massive loaf of garlic bread. what more could a girl ask for?
but, because this was a spiderman universe, peace never lasted long.
just as mrs. kim was pouring the coffee, a loud, obnoxious commotion started right outside the bakery glass window.
you turned your head to look. a young man in a leather jacket, wearing a motorcycle helmet with the visor pulled down, was frantically trying to wrestle a designer leather handbag away from an elderly woman who was clutching it with both hands, screaming for help.
“let go, you old hag!” the guy yelled, his voice muffled by the helmet.
“help! someone! he’s stealing my purse!” the old woman shrieked, refusing to let go of the strap.
“oh my god,” you gasped, smushing your face against the bakery window. “keonho, look! a crime! a literal, actual crime is happening right in front of us!”
his posture changed instantly. the sleepy, relaxed boyfriend disappeared, replaced by a hyper-focused, tense energy. his eyes narrowed, his pupils dilating as his gaze locked onto the struggle outside. his hand immediately went to his backpack strap.
“i have to go,” he whispered, his voice suddenly sharp and serious. “i’ll go around the back alley, put on the mask—”
“wait, no!” you grabbed his sleeve, pulling him back. “look at the distance! by the time you run to the alley, unzip your bag, pull on the stupid spandex, and swing back, that guy is going to be three miles away on his scooter! and mrs. kim is right there, she’ll see you run out the back!”
“but i can’t just let him rob her!” he hissed, his jaw clenched in frustration. “she’s going to get hurt!”
“so stop him as you!” you whispered-yelled. “just… do a regular civilian intervention! but, you know, with a little bit of spider-stuff to make it quicker and easier. just don't do anything that violates the laws of physics!”
keonho blinked, processing this. “right. civilian intervention. regular guy stuff. i can do that. i’m a regular guy.”
“keonho, go! save the grandma!”
he burst through the bakery door, the little bell chiming wildly. “hey! let go of her!” he yelled, his voice commanding and loud.
the thief in the helmet looked up, startled. seeing a tall, lanky college student running toward him, the thief sneered behind his visor. “mind your own business, kid, or i’ll gut you!” he yelled, reaching into his pocket and pulling out a small, metallic pocket knife, flicking the blade open.
the elderly woman let out a terrified shriek, dropping her bag and falling backward onto the concrete.
“keonho, watch out! he has a weapon!” you screamed from the doorway of the bakery, your heart leaping into your throat. even though you knew he could take a punch from a giant rhino-man, the sight of a knife was still terrifying.
bystanders on the street started screaming, backing away. mrs. kim pulled her son inside, frantically dialing the police on her landline.
the thief lunged forward, thrusting the knife toward keonho’s chest.
to a regular human, the movement was fast. to keonho, whose spider-sense was probably screaming in high-definition slow-motion, the knife was moving through molasses.
you watched in awe as keonho dodged the most dramatic, ridiculous ‘civilian dodge’ you had ever witnessed. instead of just stepping aside like a normal person, he did a sudden, fluid, cat-like twist of his torso, the blade missing his hoodie by literally a millimeter. but he forgot his own strength. as he twisted, he accidentally swung his backpack around.
the heavy backpack, loaded with college textbooks and two metal web-shooters, slammed directly into the side of the thief’s helmeted head with a loud, hollow clang.
the impact was so loud it sounded like a church bell ringing. the thief’s eyes rolled back in his head, his legs went completely jelly, and he collapsed onto the pavement like a sack of wet flour, the pocket knife clattering away into the gutter.
the street went dead silent.
everyone stared at keonho, who stared at the unconscious thief.
“uh,” keonho said, looking down at his backpack, then up at the gathering crowd of shocked onlookers. “i… i think there was a very heavy physics textbook in there. classical mechanics. it… it has a lot of mass.”
you immediately ran out of the bakery, realising your boyfriend was about to fail the social-interaction portion of his secret identity. “oh my god!” you yelled at the top of your lungs, running over to him and grabbing his arm. “that was incredible! you are so lucky! the way you tripped over your own shoe and accidentally swung your bag because of your terrible balance? science is amazing! centrifugal force really saved the day!”
keonho looked at you, his eyes pleading for help. “yes! yes, i… i tripped. my coordination is historically very poor. i actually have an inner ear infection right now.”
“an inner ear infection!” you confirmed loudly to the crowd. “it completely ruins his spatial awareness! he’s practically legally clumsy! and yet, his flailing limbs managed to neutralise the threat! truly, the universe works in mysterious ways!”
the crowd, initially stunned, slowly began to murmur in agreement.
“wow, that was some lucky flailing,” a middle-aged man holding a grocery bag said, shaking his head. “he looked like a windmill.”
“a very brave, clumsy windmill,” an elderly man agreed.
the old woman who had been targeted was now being helped to her feet by another bystander. she walked over to keonho, clutching her rescued handbag, her eyes watery. “thank you, young man. you might be clumsy, but you have a good heart. if you hadn’t tripped so spectacularly, he would have taken my favourite bag.”
“it was… it was nothing, mam,” keonho said, offering her a sweet, incredibly soft smile, his cheeks flushed with embarrassment. “i’m just glad you’re okay. you should wait inside the bakery until the police arrive, it’s warm in there.”
“thank you, dear,” she patted his arm, letting out a shaky breath.
within five minutes, the distant siren of a police car could be heard. mrs. kim ran out of the bakery, holding a massive brown paper bag that was radiating the scent of garlic and cheese.
“here!” she gasped, shoving the bag into keonho’s hands, along with two iced coffees in a cardboard carrier. “you two take this and go now. the police are going to want to take statements and you’ll be stuck here for hours. you’re college students, you have classes and studying to do! go, go! i’ll tell the police what happened, i’ll make sure they know you’re a hero who tripped!”
“mrs. kim, we can’t just leave—” keonho started.
“aish, go!” she insisted, shooing you both away. “before the reporters show up. clumsy boy saves grandma is a front-page story, you don’t want that trouble!”
“we’ll pay you next time! thank you, mrs. kim!” you grabbed keonho’s sleeve, and the two of you bolted down the street, ducking into a side alley just as the police cruiser pulled up to the curb with its lights flashing.
you ran for three blocks, laughing and panting, until you finally reached the safety of the courtyard outside keonho’s dorm building. you collapsed onto a wooden bench under a shady pergola, completely out of breath.
keonho set the heavy bag of garlic bread and the coffees down on the table, leaning his head back against the brick wall, let out a long, exhausted chuckle. “clumsy boy saves grandma. really, yn? that’s the best cover story you could come up with?”
“hey, it worked!” you defended yourself, gasping for air. “and it was technically true! you did flail! and the textbook did do all the work. by the way, which textbook was it?”
“principles of electromagnetism,” he smiled, pulling the massive, hardbound book out of his bag. the corner of the cover was slightly dented. “it weighs about six pounds. i’m glad i didn’t crack his skull.”
“see? education is a weapon!” you grinned, opening the brown paper bag. the steam rose from the fresh garlic bread, and you let out a dramatic, worshipful sigh. “oh, sweet baby jesus. look at the cheese.”
the bread was sliced thick, with melted mozzarella, cheddar, and parmesan bubbling over the crispy crust, with rich, fragrant garlic butter and chopped parsley. it was still burning hot.
you tore off a massive chunk, the cheese stretching out in a long, thread, and handed it to keonho. “here. the soft middle part. as promised. for your valiant, clumsy services.”
“why, thank you,” he said reverently, taking the bread. he took a massive bite, his eyes literally rolling back in pleasure. “oh my god. this is better than saving the city. i might retire from crime-fighting and just become a professional garlic bread taster.”
“i would support that career change,” you mumbled around a mouth full of delicious, cheesy bread. “so, now that we’re safe… can we go up to your room? i want to see the stash. i want to see the actual suit.”
keonho swallowed his bite, looking at you with a mixture of amusement and nervousness. “the suit? yn, it’s not like the movies. it doesn’t have a built-in AI or nanotech. it’s literally just spandex i bought online and hand-sewn details. it smells like sweat and laundry detergent.”
“dude, i don’t care! i wanna see it! i want to wear the mask!—”
“fine, fine,” he chuckled, picking up the coffee cups. “but don’t judge my sewing skills. sewing curves on stretchy fabric is a nightmare, okay? my sewing machine literally gave up on the boots.”
you both ran up the stairs to his room on the third floor. it was a typical college student apartment—slightly messy, with stacks of textbooks, empty soda cans, a guitar in the corner, and a giant whiteboard covered in complex physics equations. but now, knowing his secret, you noticed the little details you had missed before.
there was a sewing basket sitting next to his desk, filled with spools of red and blue industrial-strength thread. in the corner of his closet, hidden behind a row of flannels, was a large, locked plastic storage bin.
keonho set his keys down on the counter and walked over to the closet. he pulled out the bin, set it on his bed, and fished a small key out from a hidden pocket in his backpack. he unlocked the padlock with a soft click.
you leaned over his shoulder, holding your breath. he lifted the lid.
there, folded neatly inside, was the suit.
it was a brilliant, vibrant red and deep navy blue. the fabric was a heavy-duty, textured spandex that caught the light with every shuffle, and the chest had a sleek, hand-painted black spider emblem. the mask sat on top, its large, white mesh lenses framed by sharp black borders.
“oh my god,” you whispered, reaching out to touch it. the fabric felt incredibly durable, almost like a thin wetsuit, but with a lot of stretch. “keonho… this is beautiful. you made this?”
“yeah,” he said softly, watching your reaction. “the lenses are actually made from modified sunglasses and a two-way mesh i found at a theatrical supply store. they’re designed to focus my vision so my eyes don’t get overwhelmed by all the sensory input when i’m moving fast. and the soles of the boots are reinforced with a thin layer of flexible rubber so i don’t slip on wet rooftops.”
you picked up the mask, holding it up to your face. “can i put it on?”
“go ahead,” he smiled.
you carefully pulled the fabric over your head. the inside smelled faintly of lavender fabric softener and a hint of mint, probably from his breath when he was wearing it. the moment the mask settled over your face, the world looked completely different. the white mesh lenses did something weird to the light, filtering out the glare and making everything look incredibly sharp and high-contrast.
“whoa,” you gasped, your voice sounding slightly muffled inside the fabric. “i can see everything! i feel like a predator! look at me, keonho! i’m the night!” you struck a ridiculous, dramatic superhero pose on his bed, crouching down and shooting imaginary webs at him. “fear me, citizen! i’m the spider-girlfriend! pay tribute to me with garlic bread or face my wrath!”
keonho burst into a fit of breathless, hysterical laughter. he fell back onto his desk chair, clutching his stomach as he watched you pose wildly. “you look like a bobblehead, yn! the mask is made for my head, it’s way too big on you!”
“i do not look like a bobblehead!” you protested, though you had to hold the chin of the mask with one hand to keep the eyeholes aligned with your eyes. “i look intimidating! i look like a menace to society!”
“you look adorable, sweetheart,” he corrected, his laughter dying down into a warm, incredibly fond smile. “come here.”
you waddled over to him, still wearing the oversized mask. keonho reached out, wrapping his arms around your waist and pulling you into his lap. he looked up at you, his hands gently holding the sides of the mask.
“are you really okay with all this?” he asked again, his voice dropping into that quiet, intimate register. “with me being… this? it means my life is always going to be a little chaotic. there are going to be nights where i have to cancel plans because someone is dangling off a bridge, or times when i come home with a black eye and have to explain it to my mom.”
you reached up, pulling the mask off your head, letting your messy hair tumble down. you looked into his dark, anxious eyes, seeing the vulnerability he usually hid behind his easygoing, sleepy persona.
“keonho,” you said softly, cupping his face with your hands. “i’ve been with you for two years. i’ve already dealt with you canceling plans because you ‘fell asleep’ or ‘got lost on the subway’. now i know the real reason, and honestly? it makes so much more sense. i’m not going anywhere. i love you. clumsy flailing, spider-webs, and all.”
his eyes shone with a sudden, overwhelming emotion. he leaned forward, pressing his forehead against yours, letting out a long, shaky breath. “you have no idea how much of a relief it is to hear you say that. i’ve been so scared of you finding out. i thought you’d think i was a freak, or that i was putting you in danger.”
“the only danger i’m in is dying of an overdose of garlic bread,” you whispered, pressing a soft kiss to his nose. “now, show me how you make the web fluid. i want to cook a batch.”
“absolutely not, we are not running a chemical weapons lab in my kitchen,” he laughed, but he squeezed you tight, holding you close as the afternoon sun filtered through the window, casting a warm, golden glow over the messy apartment.
for the rest of the day, there were no supervillains, no portals, and no responsibilities.
there was just you, your boyfriend, and a massive loaf of garlic bread.
“wait, so do you know andrew garfield in real life, maybe?”
i don’t usually make posts like this, but i feel like something needs to be said.
the cortis fandom has always been such a fun and welcoming space for me, which is why it’s so upsetting to see so many writers receiving anonymous hate. we’ve already seen creators deactivate because of it, and now there are even blogs dedicated to letting people submit creators’ accounts just to publicly mock or slander their writing. i genuinely don’t understand why anyone thinks that’s okay.
i’ve even received a weird anonymous inbox myself. i chose not to respond because i’m not interested in giving someone the satisfaction they were clearly looking for. but not everyone can brush things off so easily, and that’s worth remembering.
at the end of the day, we’re all writing because we enjoy cortis and want to share that with other coers. if someone’s writing isn’t your thing, just scroll. no one is forcing you to read it.
there’s a massive difference between constructive criticism and going out of your way to make creators feel embarrassed or unwelcome. all that does is push people out of a community that should be encouraging creativity.
let’s keep this fandom the supportive place i know it can be. be kind, support your favourite creators, and remember there’s a real person behind every blog.🤍
discoholicmusic
stormborns
dailybridgerton
s-u-f-j-a-n-s-t-e-v-e-n-s
titsay
romaincrisis
