#minholee

[h4nj1sunggg]

𝐅𝐎𝐑𝐆𝐈𝐕𝐄 𝐁𝐔𝐓 𝐍𝐄𝐕𝐄𝐑 𝐅𝐎𝐑𝐆𝐄𝐓

pairing: 𝘀𝗽𝗶𝗱𝗲𝗿𝗺𝗮𝗻 han jisung x 𝗱𝗲𝗮𝗱𝗽𝗼𝗼𝗹 lee minho x f!reader

content: rom-com, heroes and vigilant, love triangle into a poly relationship, delicate topics (su!cide, PTSD), mafia mentioned.

summary: You never forgot the antihero, Deadpool, for taking your father away from you. You never forgot the hero, Spider-Man, for saving your life from a suicide attempt. You forgive, but you never forget.

warnings: mentioning of guns and weapons, blood, reader has some PTSD, minho calls reader pet names. reader talks about her suicide thoughts so, if this trigger you do not read it, mafia mentioned.

words: 18.1k

  ᯓᡣ𐭩　  ( masterlist )  .

NSFW warnings: fingering (f receiving), nipple playing, double penetration, breeding kink. I think it's all.

There are two types of people in the world: those who support heroes and those who believe they only bring chaos to the city.

You don’t belong to either category. You don’t care about heroes. Your life in a tiny apartment in Manhattan has never changed because of them. Your small pizza restaurant in one of the quietest neighborhoods of New York hasn’t thrived thanks to them, either.

You’re just there, waiting for the big event in your life. Until then? You spend your time listening to cheap music from your dad’s old radio.

“Y/n, vieni qua, c’è gente!” Your father’s voice snaps you out of your daze. His strong Italian accent interrupts the music, and you pull your headphones off. The song still plays on your phone, but you don’t have time to stop it. You have to get back to work.

Your family runs a small business. Your father works in the kitchen—making pizzas with the authentic recipe from Italy. Your mother, on the other hand, prepares traditional desserts like tiramisù, panna cotta, and even gelato. Your grandmother spends the whole day in the same spot, wrapped in her purple shawl, glasses slipping down her nose, eyes fixed on a Hispanic soap opera while working on her puzzle book.

You work as a cashier, helping out when you're not at university. You got into a very expensive school, full of people who’ve been spoiled their entire lives. You, on the other hand, learned the meaning of money differently.

Your grandmother came to the U.S. when she had just turned 25. In one hand, she held a suitcase; in the other, her dreams. She learned English from scratch, juggling three part-time jobs, while your grandfather worked two more. It was a simple, chaotic, but happy life—until your grandfather passed away, leaving your father the small business they had built from the few pennies they had managed to save.

You’ve never really understood why your grandparents bought a place so far from Little Italy—closer to Times Square than the other famous Italian restaurants. Every time you ask your grandmother, she simply shrugs and says, “Your nonno was really stubborn.”

Your grandfather truly believed it was the best option—a small place for a sliced pizza business with an apartment included. It had just enough room for you and the rest of your family.

You know the place isn’t very successful. There are only a few regulars, just enough to scrape by and cover the end-of-month expenses. You also know you can’t ask for too much, and that your college grades must remain impeccable to keep your scholarship. Every day, you think about how lucky other people seem—not that you know their stories, but just hearing someone casually say during a lecture, “Let’s go to karaoke after this,” makes you jealous.

You’re not popular, and you’re definitely not rich. That’s cut down a lot of your social life—but not enough to leave you completely friendless.

As you step out the back of the restaurant and head to the cashier spot, you spot your best friend with a huge grin on her face, waving at you.

“Yo mama is fine as hell.”

You can’t help but laugh. Her obsession with milfs—and girls in general—always manages to lift your mood. Holding your stomach from laughing, you tease, and she laughs along with you.

“What are you looking for today?” you ask.

“Some girls to kiss. Wanna be the next one?”

Her cheeky pick-up lines never fail to make you smile. You start punching in the price for two slices of pizza.

“It’s three dollars.” She sighs dramatically as she pulls out her wallet from her expensive bag. “If I really have to.”

You chuckle as you grab the three banknotes from her hand. Her smile makes you smile. And for a moment, you’re truly happy. No worries. No thoughts. Just peace. For a single second, your life doesn’t feel as miserable as you usually think it is.

Until.

Until you hear screaming. Until you hear glass shattering. Until you see the terror on the faces of the people you love. You never imagined how quickly life could change—how everything could shift in just a matter of seconds. That is, until you see a figure in a dark red costume, weapons strapped to his back, and a gun in his hand.

You’re not a huge nerd, but even you recognize that costume. It belongs to only one person. Deadpool.

He’s not a hero. He’s not a villain. He defines himself to the police as a “cleaner of other people’s shit.” Basically, a hitman—one who doesn’t kill unless he’s forced to by whoever’s paying him.

And now, as you crouch behind the counter, your heart pounding so hard it feels like it’s about to explode, your hands shaking and your ears buzzing with the rush of blood… you pray. You pray he’s made a mistake. That he’s in the wrong place at the wrong time.

But he’s not. He’s pointing his gun toward the kitchen. Your blood feels like it stops flowing. A chill floods your body. The atmosphere is so heavy, so dark, you can only curl tighter under the counter, paralyzed with fear.

“No! Please!” Your mother’s voice jerks you back into reality. You rise from your hiding spot. Your best friend is helping your grandmother, who’s fallen from her chair. Your eyes burn with tears, but you fight them back. There’s no time for that now. Before you can even take a step toward the kitchen, a shotgun blasts through the air— Piercing the screams.

Silencing everything. You never thought silence could feel so terrifying. You run into the kitchen.

Your mother is on the floor, sobbing. Your father is moaning in pain, a chest wound bleeding out across the tiled floor. And there’s Deadpool—calmly wiping his gun with the towel your mother usually keeps folded neatly on the counter. The tears spill freely now, anger rising like a fire inside you.

“I didn’t kill him,” the antihero mutters, walking past you as if nothing just happened. His mask is lifted just enough to reveal his mouth as he chews on a slice of pizza. “Easy, blondie.”

The sound of police sirens begins to echo in the distance, growing louder as they approach the scene of chaos. It's only a matter of time—and you pray for every second. The floor is littered with shards of glass from the shattered windows. Chairs and tables are overturned. The TV your grandmother usually watches during the day lies face-down on the ground. Somehow, it's still working. The screen flickers with an image of news reporters gathered just outside your family’s restaurant. Without warning, Deadpool hurls one of his katanas across the room. It strikes the TV dead center, perfectly shattering the screen.

“Damn, I always hated reporters,” he mutters.

His voice is deep—so deep it sends a chill crawling up your spine. You instinctively take a step closer, but stop instantly. One of his guns is now aimed directly at your forehead.

You freeze. The chewing sound of his pizza is the only noise cutting through the room, aside from your dad’s pained groans and your mother’s quiet sobs. “Don’t step too close, blondie,” he warns. “You’ll get hurt trying to dance with evil.”

Your breath catches in your throat as he turns his head toward you. You’re frozen in place, barely able to get the words out. “Why did you do this?” you whisper. “Why us?”

Your voice shakes. He steps closer, too close for you to focus properly on his face. His cologne hits your senses—sharp, cold, almost metallic. “I just follow the work, sweet thing,” he replies flatly. “Grow up with that.”

His tone is harsh, and it makes you tremble from head to toe. Before you can catch a glimpse of his eyes, his mask drops again, covering the lower half of his face. His voice switches back to something oddly playful just as the police storm in, guns raised. The windows are blown open, letting the spring wind drift in and stir the dust on the floor.

That was the first time you ever met Deadpool.

-

Lee Minho feels like heavy rain. The kind of heavy rain that comes after a thunderstorm—summer rain that seeps into your bones, soaking your clothes until they cling to your skin, drenching your shoes, and plastering your hair to your neck. That kind of rain.

You don’t know if it’s because of his charm, or the fact that he never lets anyone get too close, but something about him draws you in. From your very first day at university, your eyes betrayed you by constantly seeking him out, lingering on his features. You don’t even know what his voice sounds like, or what color his eyes are. He’s the kind of guy you instinctively look for in a crowded, noisy room.

That copper-red hair, always poking out from under his hoodie, and that worn backpack slung over one shoulder—he walks the corridors like he doesn’t owe anyone a glance. He never makes eye contact. You don’t even understand why he goes to a place like this. It’s hard to imagine him as a spoiled rich kid. Maybe that’s part of the reason you find him so intriguing.

No one really knows how he affords a university like this one. The only thing you're certain of is that Minho doesn’t care about his grades—because he’s too smart to need to. He walks out of class when he’s bored, and the professors never stop him. He’s that genius—the one everyone accepts is on another level. No one ever beats him in tests or assignments. He always turns things in on time, always perfect. So perfect it’s almost annoying.

At least, that’s what you used to think.

Now, after your father was arrested, you can’t even sit through a lecture without your skin prickling at the sight of the windows—always waiting for them to shatter like they did that day. Your usual seat is right next to one of them, where your desk is still covered in little scribbled drawings. But not today.

Today, that seat is already taken—by Lee Minho.

You feel your cheeks flush. That’s your seat. Everyone knows it.

“Excuse me?” you ask, trying to sound as polite as possible. The boy is scribbling something in his notebook, eyes down, spinning a pen between his fingers. He doesn’t even glance up.

“Sorry, uh…?” Minho sighs. You’re still standing beside the desk, not moving away. He lets out a slow breath before finally turning his head toward you.

It’s the first time you see his eyes—dark brown. And suddenly, the image of heavy rain from that first day resurfaces. That’s exactly what his eyes look like.

Cold.

His voice cuts through the silence. “What?”

"That’s my spot," you say, pointing lightly at the desk where his things are already spread out. Minho doesn’t like moving around once he finds his place—it’s like he’s a cat, settling into his favorite angle of the room.

"No, it’s mine."

The entire conversation feels so childish that you almost can’t bring yourself to argue.

Your cheeks warm as his voice comes out firm, making you trip over your words. You turn on your heel and start to walk toward another table, part of you feeling a strange sense of relief. Your usual spot is right by the window, and being that close to one would make you panic. But of course, Minho doesn’t know that. Or at least, that’s what you think.

For the entire week, Minho took your spot. You didn’t know why, and he’s not the type to get close to anyone, so you couldn’t ask him. You just… accepted it. Who were you to tell him what to do?

Every morning—though you weren’t sure exactly when it started—you passed by to greet him, leaving a jug of juice that you bought from the vending machine. No one had ever approached him like this before. You knew you weren’t special, but you felt pleased when Minho smiled after about ten seconds of you leaving the juice on the table, his lips raising just at the corners. That little gesture made you feel good.

Then, the following Monday, Minho wasn’t there. He’s never late, which made you worry. Not that you were friends or anything more, but a situation had formed where you felt a duty to… understand, to know why he wasn’t there.

“Do you know where Minho is?” you murmured to your friends, who were engrossed in a conversation about the latest assignment that was hell on earth. You had your head in your hands, your eyes scanning the room for one person and one person only.

“Y/N, why are you so interested in him?”

Your expression is pure surprise as you look up at your friend. “Me? Uh, no reason.” You can’t lie when your cheeks are getting red just thinking about the man who has taken up residence in your mind.

“You keep asking about him today! And murmuring stuff, do you have a crush on him?”

Their sudden questions make you retreat into your thoughts. Is it really like that? You’re not sure; you’ve never named what you feel for Minho before. You just… let it happen. You can’t control your feelings.

You hear the door slam against the wall, shaking the windows. It makes you flinch.

Minho enters the room, and there’s a brief silence. No one says a word. His face is covered in wounds—split lip, cut above his eyebrow. You feel dizzy just looking at him.

“What do you have to look at?” he spits out, as if surprised that everyone is paying attention to him now. No one ever has before.

But he’s hurt, and you can’t stand it. You can’t stand seeing anyone hurt, especially someone you care about, even if you haven’t fully acknowledged that yet. You almost jump out of your seat, making a loud screeching sound as the chair drags across the floor, drawing everyone’s attention. Your friends murmur something to try and convince you to sit back down, but you can’t.

Your eyes are locked on him.

You see the surprise in his expression when you stand up for him, but he doesn’t move a muscle. He knows that you care, more than everyone else does. You walk toward him, the only sound in the room is the soft thudding of your shoes on the floor. Your mind keeps whispering: Don’t do it. Don’t do it. Don’t do it. You’ve never skipped a class. You’ve always been the perfect student. But… oh, screw it.

You grab Minho’s hand, and he hisses at the feeling of your skin against his. His hand feels almost burning hot, and his cheeks flush red, but he won’t admit it. He doesn’t pull away.

You walk out of the class, his eyes on you the whole time, and you feel so stupid right now.

“What do you think you’re doing?” he mumbles, tightening his grip on your hand, but not letting you go.

You take him to the nursing room, opening the door and guiding him to one of the beds. “Let me take a look,” you insist, but when you try to pull away, his hand stays firmly holding yours. Your breath catches in your throat as you try to steady yourself, his thumb brushing gently against your knuckles.

He lets you grab some bandages and disinfectant, and you start to carefully tend to the cut on his lip. You stand right in front of him, and he moves his thighs apart to give you more room. His hands continue to play with the edge of your skirt, making your whole body tremble.

You can’t stop yourself from crying at the sight of his injuries. Your hands touch his face with the utmost gentleness, surprising even him.

Minho chuckles, his eyes softening as he looks down at you. “Why are you crying, blondie?”

The nickname makes you chuckle, even as your cheeks flush. He’s not the first to call you that, but you wonder if he’s the last.

“Nothing. I… I don’t like it when people I care about get hurt,” you sniffle, and he stays silent, his face unreadable as always.

“What happened, if I can ask?” he finally says, his voice soft. For the first time, Minho seems genuinely interested in what you have to say, and you let your thoughts spill out.

“Two months ago, my dad’s business got attacked by a hero. He stabbed my father and then just left, letting him go with the police. Turns out, he had some sort of side business with drugs or something. I didn’t know, so I don’t feel totally okay these last couple weeks.”

Minho’s chuckle interrupts your words, and you look up at him, confused. His lips curl into a smile, showing his teeth.

“A hero? No hero would do that in such a cool way, princess,” he says, pausing, then noticing your confused expression. “I mean, it’s still horrible, but he took your father for a good reason. I wouldn’t call him a hero, though. Pff.”

Minho almost seems pissed off at the way you described Deadpool as a hero, and you can’t help but chuckle as you move his jaw gently to check for other cuts.

“You seem almost like a fan.”

“He sounds cool. Are you scared of him now?” His voice deepens, making shivers run down your spine. He stops you with his eyes, his hands slowly finding their way to the back of your thighs. “Are you scared, bunny?”

“I’m… not.”

“You sound like you are,” he smirks, and the way he says it makes your stomach do flips. He stands up, and you’re suddenly facing him, though your small height only reaches his chest. Minho walks slowly toward you, and you instinctively move backward until your back hits the wall.

You’re trapped.

“I’m not scared!” you mumble, squeezing your eyes shut slightly as he leans in, his face just inches from yours. His skin smells faintly like disinfectant. “Turned on then?”

His low giggle makes you whimper under his touch, because you know he’s right. He knows exactly what effect he has on you. He suddenly steps back, making you whine in frustration at the loss of contact.

“Why are you teasing me like that?” you ask, your voice trembling.

His laugh fills the room, making you blush. It’s the first time he doesn’t look like someone you should be scared of. He just looks like Minho.

“God, you’re damn cute, bun,” he chuckles.

After that, things between you and Minho changed. He started asking you out more frequently, texting you just to ask if you’d help him with assignments (though you knew it was really an excuse to talk to you). He was completely unaware that you knew his game, and it became so normal that you forgot about everything else when Minho was around. You felt… safe.

And, he started feeling safe too. He stopped hiding under his hood, his smile became bigger and more genuine—especially when you were around. He looked so different now.

He was still your heavy rain, but somehow, you saw him a little more clearly.

One day, as you walked down the hall after your last class, you felt two hands cover your eyes, and you jumped in surprise. Minho’s chuckle reached your ears, and you blushed under his touch as you gently grabbed his wrists to move his hands away.

“I got you again, bunny.”

“You always get me, Min,” you chuckled, walking alongside him as his arm draped over your shoulders, his smile just for you.

“Wanna grab some dinner together?” he asked.

You sighed, shaking your head. “Sorry, have to work with Mom.”

“Oh, you guys opened the Pizze—?” He stumbled over the words, unsure of how to pronounce it.

You couldn’t help but chuckle. “It’s Pizzeria, and yes, we did. It’s hard without my dad, but it’s the best we can do for now.”

Minho nodded, walking beside you, not letting you stray from his side. His phone buzzed, but you were more important right now.

“Okay then, I’ll help.”

“What?”

“H-E-L-P, is your Italian mind not working today?” he teased, pressing his finger against your forehead and moving you closer to his chest.

You missed the green light, so you stopped, and Minho leaned in closer, his arms wrapping around your shoulders. His phone buzzed again, and you could feel it against your back.

“Your phone,” you said, trying to move away from his warmth.

“I heard it the first time,” he mumbled, his chin resting on top of your head. The gesture made you blush. “Still don’t care about it.”

As you both started walking again, a car honked loudly, and you turned just in time to see a web stop it from crashing into you and Minho.

Minho moved you behind him, shielding you with his body. “Are you okay?” he whispered, holding your shoulders gently as his hands moved up to your cheeks.

Your heart raced as you nodded, still shocked by the sudden near-miss.

That was the first time you ever saw Spider-Man in your life.

Xoxoxo.

When you were a child, people always thought you could be a heroine.

You’re not sure why. Maybe it’s the way you always find a compromise between two sides, or the way you smile even when it hurts. You never really got it. Whether you had powers or not, the thought of sitting on the edge of a skyscraper, looking at the city as if it were yours, never seemed right.

Because New York was never yours.

You get up here, but it never feels like home. You like the view, but you never loved it. It’s the same as when you accept your fate and don’t try to go beyond it. You adapt easily—pretty much everywhere.

At university. At work. With your family. With your friends. Everywhere, it’s like you blend in, and sometimes, that’s good enough to survive. Because that’s how you are. You jump around, survive, and keep going.

At least that’s what you do.

You can’t imagine yourself as a hero. Not even an antihero or a villain, if that would interest anyone. You’re just... you. In your easy life that somehow turned chaotic, full of people trying to change it.

Like Han Jisung.

You’re walking down the hall, your mind scattered because this morning, after you left your house, Minho wasn’t there at the gate. He said he was sick, but he’s never sick. His immune system is practically immortal. But you didn’t ask questions. You just texted back with a light pout.

[ minho 07:50am ] too early to pout like that bunny.

His text makes you chuckle lightly. He knows you so well that he can picture you pouting like a baby because he’s not there with you. What you don’t know is that Deadpool is sitting on top of a skyscraper, swinging his legs over the edge with his phone in hand, watching you walk down the street. He knows exactly what you’re doing because he’s watching you from afar, but... you don’t know that.

And that breaks Minho’s heart a little, because he’s so scared of telling you who he really is. So, he decides to lie for your own good. If people who are against him knew that he cared about someone as much as he cares about you, that would put you in too much danger.

As you walk into the university, Minho sighs deeply, knowing that inside those walls, he can’t protect you like he should. It would be too crazy to follow you into the classes dressed in his costume; it would draw too much attention. Even though he likes the attention, he only wants your attention.

Minho stops when he hears a whistle from behind. He glances over his shoulder and instinctively reaches for his gun in the holster. “Hey, hey, go easy, Deady,” the voice behind him says, making him groan in annoyance. “How many times do I have to tell you not to call me that?”

Spider-Man walks up beside him with a toast in his mouth, the mask slightly raised as his blue electric costume catches the older man’s eye. “How many times do I have to tell you that I don’t care?”

Deadpool rolls his eyes, crossing his arms over his chest as he notices his friend with a backpack. “So, you go to this university?”

“Good try, Deady, but I’ve gotta go,” Jisung says, faking a flattery with a smirk. He finishes his toast and pulls on his jacket before swinging away with his webs.

You’re walking down the hall, your headphones in, blasting noisy music that perfectly reflects your morning, when you realize that today marks exactly six months since your father was sent to jail.

Your mind feels blurry. You can’t figure out why he did it—why he started selling drugs right under your nose at the shop. You never noticed. You never noticed because his smile was always the same, and the money never increased enough to shock you. You never thought something like that could happen to you, to your mother, to your grandmother.

It’s hard to have a conversation with them now. Your eyes tear up, or your anger tries to cover the gentle tone you want to use with them. 

Something changed in you that day. It’s hard to say what, hard to explain why. It just happened. You started sneaking into your room through the window at night, almost like an uninvited guest in your own home. Your mother is always curled up on the couch, a blanket over her body as she tries to get a few hours of sleep between her two jobs. 

Your grandmother always stares at the little window in the living room.

She doesn’t do the crosswords anymore, and you’re too tired to fight about it. You’re too tired to keep doing the things that once felt normal. Slowly, you’re drowning in your thoughts, buried in a fog that you can’t shake off.

You’re so deep in your head that you don’t notice when you bump into someone. You quickly turn, almost tripping over your own feet. “God, are you okay?” you ask, your eyes wide with surprise.

Jisung immediately grabs your shoulders to steady himself, his face flushed with embarrassment and the adrenaline of the sudden movement. “Oh no, no, it’s alright,” he chuckles, offering you a smile. “You’re quite nimble for a clumsy girl, hm?”

“Am I?” You chuckle, feeling a little shy as you blush. His hands move away from your shoulders, and his posture relaxes, a moment of calm in the bustling hall. He recognizes you immediately. Even though he saves countless people during his workday, your face sticks in his memory like a bright, sunny day. He remembers the way you smiled at him that one time, right before he swung off into the night. It made him feel so alive, like his little secret was worth it. It’s not such a little secret, but he’s not quite confident about it yet.

“Yeah, yeah, you look like it,” he grins lightly, his eyes soft as he looks at you.

You try to catch a hint of awkwardness in his eyes, but his entire presence is so warm and friendly, it makes you feel like you should talk to him more than you’d planned. “Did we ever meet before?” you ask, curiosity lacing your voice.

Jisung shakes his head, blushing as he fights hard to keep his big secret hidden. He’s not great at lying, and his nerves are making it harder. “I don’t think so. But I’d definitely remember a pretty girl like you.”

Just then, you hear your best friend calling you from the end of the hall. You check the time—your class starts in exactly two minutes. “Well, I’m gonna see you around…?” you trail off, unsure.

“Jisung,” he responds softly, offering a light smile. He moves his hand closer to yours, and you hesitate for just a moment before quickly grasping it. “Call me Jisung.”

You give him a quick nod, feeling a flutter in your chest, and with one last smile, you turn to walk away, your steps quick as you hurry toward your class. “I’ll see you around, Jisung!” you call over your shoulder.

Later that night, you're sitting at the edge of the Manhattan Bridge, looking down at the city. 

Why does everything feel so small? You’re surrounded by the massive skyline of New York City, yet everything seems distant, as if none of it belongs to you. Your feet dangle off the edge, the cold breeze ruffling your hair as the city lights twinkle below. 

It’s beautiful, but somehow it doesn’t feel like yours. You wish you could find a way to make it feel like home.

You feel the city suffocating you, its weight pressing against your chest, wrapping around your neck, slowly squeezing, making you ache, making you want to escape. Escape from New York, escape from your father, escape from everything.

But at the same time, guilt claws at you. How could you even imagine leaving? Leaving your mother, your grandmother, Minho. You can’t picture your life without him in it. He’s become so embedded in your being, so close to your heart, that he’s the only emotion you can feel that doesn’t suffocate you. His voice, his touch, they make you feel safe, loved.

You blush at the thought of him, your heart racing. You shake your head lightly, sighing deeply. You don’t understand why you feel this way. You never minded his teasing or sarcastic comments. He was always there when you needed him—when your dad called from prison, when your grandma came home, when you had that horrible fight with your mother. He never judged you; he just gathered up the clothes on the floor, gave you a gentle smile, and said, “Let me clean you up.”

He was there. And right now, you just want to run away. You just want to hide, to escape into your feelings, to forget about the reality that hurts more than you can bear. A heavy sigh escapes your lips as you look down at the street below. The jump seems so easy, the only escape that might bring you relief.

“Hey, blondie,” a voice calls, snapping you out of your thoughts. A blue electric suit lands beside you, the figure settling next to you on the edge of the bridge. “You getting ready for a big jump?”

You squirm in surprise, your heart skipping a beat as you turn to face him. Spider-Man’s mask stares back at you. He sounds so casual, almost like he’s talking about something mundane, but the weight of his words makes your pulse quicken.

“I- maybe?” You stammer, unsure of what you’re really saying, but something about his presence calms you just a little.

His head tilts, and you can almost imagine the confused expression hidden beneath the mask. “Maybe? So I should stay here?”

You chuckle nervously, shaking your head. “No, I think, I think you can actually go.”

He falls silent for a moment, and you feel the tension in the air as you both stare at the city below. Then, in a low murmur, Spider-Man speaks again, his voice softer now. “Do you like the view?”

You let your gaze drift back down to the streets, the chaotic pulse of Manhattan. The endless motion of the people, the sounds of the city filling the air. The lights blur into the darkness.

“No,” you whisper, your voice tinged with bitterness. “I hate it.”

He doesn’t respond at first, the quiet hanging between you, and then, with a gentle sigh, Spider-Man speaks again, his tone full of something you can’t quite place. “It’s not the view that matters, you know. It’s what you do with it.”

You don’t know what to say to that. Instead, you just stare down, lost in the noise of the city, feeling like an outsider in a world that’s moving far too fast for you to catch up. “Do you?”

“Jeez, no,” he giggles, and that sound makes you turn in his direction. He’s still looking at you. “Really? But… you’re Spider-Man.”

You chuckle as his hand moves really close to your thigh, just in case you get too close to the edge and fall. “And? Can’t Spider-Man like the city he’s from?”

“No, I mean, you protect this city.” His voice is still laced with confusion, running through your thoughts. 

“Protecting the city and liking the city are two different things for me, sweetheart.”

You nod lightly, chuckling, because you can feel the meaning behind his words. It’s the same for you. You don’t like the city, but you’re still here. For your mother, your grandma, and maybe even Minho. You're starting to accept that, too.

“Can I show you something?” Spider-Man asks softly, almost like a whisper that's hard to hear. You turn your head to him and nod lightly, still confused.

Suddenly, you’re in his arms. Swinging through the city. You scream as you hold onto him, his arm wrapped around your waist. “Oh my god!”

“You’re a natural,” Jisung chuckles as he swings between the skyscrapers, his strong arm holding your waist as you try not to scream every time his webs drop you dead weight among the city lights.

“This is my favorite way to see the city.”

Looking down at the streets, your stomach drops. The beautiful view stretches out before your eyes. “Oddio... Oddio!” Every time you get flustered or scared, you end up speaking in Italian. Jisung laughs loudly when he hears your very loud scream.

“What was that, angel?” His voice is right against your ear, making you blush and feel butterflies all over your stomach. You should say something, but before you can, he gently sets you down right in front of your parents' little pizza place. You can feel that he doesn’t want to let you go, and his arm slowly moves away from your waist.

“Well, I... I should go.”

“Spider-Man, I... can I ask you a favor?”

He stops before he can move or step away from you, his eyes focused on you. You can tell by the movement of his mask that he’s happy. “Yes?”

Your eyes fill with determination. You want revenge. “Can you... go after Deadpool? He did... something to me and my family. We— I need revenge for that. I want him in jail.”

Xoxoxo.

Jisung’s body stiffens for a moment, his grip on the web shooter tightening, a slight pause in his usually confident demeanor. The words “revenge” and “Deadpool” sit heavily in the air between you, and for a split second, you see something in his movements shift, a hesitation he wasn’t expecting to feel.

“You want revenge…” His voice drops lower, more serious now. “I get it. I really do. But... it’s not as easy as you think. Deadpool’s not someone you can just throw in jail. He’s... complicated. And I’m not sure if you really want to get mixed up with him, trust me.”

Your heart sinks a little as you meet his gaze, but you refuse to back down.

“Why?” you ask, the anger and hurt barely kept in check. “What’s so complicated about him? He hurt my family—my father, my life.”

He runs a hand through his hair, clearly frustrated. “Because he’s not someone you can just punch out and walk away from. Deadpool’s... unpredictable. And he’s not afraid of anything, especially not jail.” 

His eyes soften, looking at you with a mix of pity and concern. “I don’t want you to make things worse for yourself. You’ve already been through so much. You deserve more than to become tangled in all of this.” The air between you both feels thick, like you’re standing at the edge of a cliff, one wrong move could send everything spiraling.

“But I need to do something,” you say, your voice trembling a bit. “I can’t just sit here while he... while my family is still paying for what he did.”

There’s a long pause. The city lights flicker in the background as the sound of traffic hums faintly in the distance. Finally, Jisung steps closer, his voice quieter now. “I can’t promise you that I can take down Deadpool, not the way you want me to. But... I’ll help. I’ll help you find a way, okay? You don’t have to carry this burden alone.”

You feel a mix of relief and tension wash over you. It’s not the answer you were hoping for, but it’s something. “Thank you,” you whisper, your heart still heavy, but somehow a little lighter.

He smiles, though there’s a sadness in his eyes you don’t miss. “I’ll be watching your back. You’re not alone in this. We’ll figure it out.”

As he swings off into the night, you’re left standing there, more determined than ever. The weight of what you’re about to do hasn’t fully hit you yet. But with Jisung’s promise, it feels like a step toward taking control of your own fate—however dangerous it may be.

The quiet hum of the classroom buzzes around you as you sift through your notes, trying to focus. You barely hear your professor call out the next group project announcement until you feel a tap on your shoulder. You turn around, expecting to see your best friend, but instead, it's Minho, grinning like a cat with a mischievous glint in his eyes.

"Looks like you're stuck with me, huh?" he teases, leaning casually against the back of your chair.

You raise an eyebrow, giving him a questioning look. "Wait, what do you mean 'stuck with you'?"

Minho just shrugs, a smug grin spreading across his face. "The professor just assigned us all to groups. You and I are in the same one, lucky you."

You groan internally. You're always paired with Minho for projects, and while you do work well together, it usually means a whirlwind of sarcastic remarks and endless back-and-forth teasing. At least with Minho, you can sort of predict what he’ll do next, but what’s going to throw you off this time is that, somehow, Jisung is in the same group.

You glance over at him, seated in the row behind you. He’s got his headphones in, but his eyes are clearly already scanning the room. He makes brief eye contact with you, and his lips curl up into a friendly, almost too-casual smile. You can feel your heart skip a beat, your brain reminding you that this Jisung is just a normal guy, and nothing about him should make your chest tighten like that.

Minho notices, of course, and his smirk grows even wider. "Well, aren’t we lucky. The trio is complete."

You try to keep a straight face as you turn back to Minho. "Seriously? You’re telling me we’re working with Jisung on this? This is gonna be a disaster."

“Hey,” Minho says with a sly grin, “you know what they say about working with the best.” He murmurs with his hand that moves around your neck froom behind, tilting your head upward, his lips placing a soft peck against your forehead.

You can’t tell if he’s being sarcastic or serious, but at this point, it doesn’t matter. With Minho, you’ve learned to expect the unexpected. And with Jisung? Well, you’re still trying to figure out what to think about him. His smile always seems to catch you off guard, and there’s something about the way he talks to you that makes you feel like he’s both a stranger and someone you should know.

The professor calls out, “Alright, your group work begins today. Make sure you all meet up after class to discuss the project. I’ll see you all next week with your first ideas.”

You gather your things, watching as Jisung approaches your desk, a lazy walk that hides the subtle confidence in his stride. His casual smile never falters as he slides into the chair next to you, and you can feel the heat rise in your cheeks. Focus, Y/N. This is just a project, nothing more.

“Well, looks like it’s just the three of us, huh?” Jisung says lightly, his eyes crinkling at the corners. “Let’s make it a fun one.”

You can feel Minho beside you rolling his eyes, but he can’t help the grin that tugs at the corners of his lips. “I’m sure this will be... interesting.”

The awkward silence stretches for a second, and you’re the first one to break it, trying to steer the group back on track. “So, uh, we should probably discuss the project.”

“Right,” Jisung says, leaning forward. “What’s the project about?”

You pull out the assignment paper, scanning the details for any indication of what kind of project it is. “It’s about urban development,” you say slowly, trying to piece it together. “We have to come up with an idea to improve the city's infrastructure. Maybe something with public spaces?”

Minho’s eyes gleam with an idea. “What about incorporating green spaces? Like rooftop gardens or more parks. It’d balance out the concrete jungle.”

You nod in agreement, but Jisung leans back in his chair, his hand resting on his chin thoughtfully. “That could work, but what if we went further? We could add eco-friendly transportation options. Maybe a system of public bikes, but with solar charging stations?”

“Solar charging stations?” Minho scoffs lightly. “You’re really thinking this through, huh?”

Jisung shrugs nonchalantly, his smile never leaving his face. “Gotta go big or go home. Plus, think about how cool it’d be to have a whole city powered by solar energy.”

You catch yourself smiling, despite yourself. Jisung’s enthusiasm is oddly contagious, and it’s hard not to get drawn into his excitement. You’re still trying to figure out why he makes your heart race, but for now, you can focus on the project.

“Alright,” you say, tapping the table to get their attention. “Let’s make sure we keep it realistic, though. We want to wow them, but we don’t want to bite off more than we can chew.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Minho mutters. “Realistic. You’re no fun, Y/n.”

But even with the teasing and the sarcastic remarks, you can tell that Minho is fully on board. The trio might be unconventional, but you can’t deny that it feels... right. Even if it’s chaotic, even if you don’t know where this project will take you, you can’t help but feel that something’s shifting.

The way Jisung looks at you sometimes. The way Minho’s teasing feels strangely affectionate. You wonder, for the briefest moment, if you’ve gotten yourself tangled in something bigger than just a group project.

You push the thought aside as you gather your things, ready to take the next step. 

It’s just a project... right?

It’s only been a few days since the project began, but already, Minho and Jisung are at each other’s throats. Every time they meet, it’s like they’re competing over who has the better idea, and you can’t help but roll your eyes as they try to outdo each other.

You’ve been here before—watching them argue over the smallest details, throwing passive-aggressive comments about each other’s suggestions. It’s a mess. But somehow, even amidst the chaos, you can tell they’re both passionate about it.

"Okay, let’s hear it," Jisung says, leaning forward with his arms crossed, giving Minho an expectant look. 

"You think adding more green space to the city is gonna solve everything?"

Minho doesn’t miss a beat, shaking his head. "No, I’m saying it’s a good start. You want your solar-charging bike stations to work, right? Well, people are gonna need a place to park those bikes, so why not give them green spaces to make the whole thing work?"

"You’re missing the bigger picture," Jisung counters. "How do you even plan to make the city’s infrastructure sustainable long term? You’re just throwing a few plants in there and calling it eco-friendly."

You sigh, rubbing your temples. You thought this was supposed to be a group project, but instead, you’ve been stuck in the middle of what feels like a never-ending battle.

“Guys, can we just—” you start, but you’re quickly cut off as Minho raises his voice a little too loudly. “Are you seriously doubting the impact of green spaces? People need a breath of fresh air in this city! They can’t live in a concrete jungle!”

“Oh, I’m not doubting it. But you're not thinking of the logistics. People are gonna need more than just a place to hang out. They need sustainable solutions! Bikes that can be charged while in use, not just a place to park them like some… park bench project!”

Their bickering intensifies, and you’re starting to get a headache. But it’s at that moment that the tension escalates in a way you weren’t expecting.

Minho, who had been pacing the room, pauses for a second, his eyes narrowing. “Wait, are you—are you seriously thinking we’re just going to throw a couple of solar panels on some bikes and call it a day? You’re acting like this is all just some random side project.”

Jisung’s face flushes a deep red, and you can see his jaw clenching. “What exactly are you implying?” he asks, his voice quiet but sharp, making the air around you seem tenser.

You watch the two of them, sensing the rising tension. The air feels thick, like it’s on the verge of snapping, and you’re starting to get a headache just from the silent battle of wills between them.

This project was supposed to be a team effort, but now it feels like a competition—one that you don’t have the energy to be part of.

“Okay, I’m gonna grab some food. You two can sort this out," you say, standing up quickly, eager to escape the mounting tension. You throw a glance over your shoulder at both of them, then exit the room before either can protest.

The door clicks shut behind you, leaving them alone.

The silence that follows is heavy, broken only by the sound of Jisung exhaling a frustrated breath.

Minho crosses his arms, clearly not ready to let it go. “I still don’t understand what your problem is with this. The whole point is—”

“The whole point?” Jisung interrupts, his voice rising just slightly, a sharp edge to his tone. “The whole point is sustainability, Minho. Something you obviously don’t care about if you think throwing in a couple of parks is gonna solve anything.”

Minho takes a step forward, his face a mixture of frustration and disbelief. “Oh, you mean like swinging from building to building, throwing out webs and calling it saving the city like that stupid spiderman guy?”

Jisung’s eyes narrow, and for a brief moment, a flicker of something dangerous passes through them.

"Don't talk like you understand anything about real responsibility," Jisung mutters under his breath, his grip tightening on the edge of the table.

Minho opens his mouth to respond, but before he can get a word out, Jisung, in a flash of irritation, shoots a web from his wrist. It zips across the room and lands directly over Minho’s mouth, completely covering it, rendering him silent.

Minho’s eyes widen in shock, but instead of fighting back, he stands frozen, his eyes locked on Jisung. The tension in the room shifts, no longer about the project, but the quiet understanding that passes between them.

Jisung pulls back the web, letting it retract with a flick of his wrist, but he keeps his gaze firm. “That’s better,” he says, his tone low. “Now, we can actually talk.”

Minho blinks a couple of times, his jaw clenched in silent frustration. He wipes his mouth with his sleeve, as if clearing away the remnants of the web.

“What about that Deadpool old man, huh?” Jisung finally says, his voice dripping with sarcasm, as if he’s just given up. "The city’s supposed ‘hero.’ A real pain in the ass.”

“Oh shut the fuck up,” Jisung’s eyes widen at the slip, and the realization hits him like a punch to the gut.

“That’s... definitely something Deadpool would say,” Jisung mutters, his voice lowering as his brain races to catch up. He gives Minho a long look, then shakes his head, realizing it.

Minho rolls his eyes, exasperated. “Yeah, well. Guess you’re not the only one with secrets.”

Jisung’s expression softens for a moment, before he quickly changes the subject, looking at the door. “We can’t tell her.”

Minho looks back at Jisung, his face a mix of frustration and reluctant agreement. "Yeah, I know. She can't find out. Not yet. She's already too involved as it is."

Jisung nods, but there’s a part of him that’s still uneasy. He can’t quite shake the feeling that this is all about to spiral out of control.

"I don't want her to see us like this," Jisung mutters, running a hand through his hair. “We’ve gotta keep this normal, at least for her.”

“Yeah,” Minho agrees quietly. “She doesn’t deserve to be caught in all this mess. Not yet.”

Another long silence passes, the weight of their secret identities hanging over them like a shadow. They both know the stakes are higher than ever now, but for the moment, there’s nothing they can do but play along.

A few moments later, you return with some snacks, unaware of the tension that’s still hanging in the air. Both Minho and Jisung are back to their usual selves—trying their best to ignore the secret that they just shared between each other.

You walk in, trying to act casual, but even you can feel the weird vibe in the room. “Alright, I’m back,” you say, offering them both a smile as you sit down.

Minho and Jisung glance at each other before turning back to you, each of them hiding something behind their smiles.

“Everything okay?” you ask, trying to read the room.

“Yeah, fine,” Minho answers quickly, his voice too smooth. “Let’s get back to work, yeah?”

Jisung nods in agreement, though his eyes still flicker toward Minho, the unspoken understanding passing between them.

You sigh, relieved that the atmosphere has lightened, even if just a little. “Alright. Let’s finish this.”

As you dive back into the project, the two of them work silently next to you. But underneath the surface, the tension hasn’t gone away—not yet. The secrets they’re keeping from you feel heavier than before, and you can't shake the feeling that something's not right.

But for now, you’re all pretending things are normal. And in that moment, that’s all you can do.

The city hums around you as you walk down the busy street, your mind still preoccupied with the tension from earlier. The strange atmosphere between Jisung and Minho hasn't quite left you, but you try to shake it off, focusing instead on the project you need to finish. You're so wrapped up in your thoughts that you don't notice the figure lurking in the shadows until it’s too late.

A pair of rough hands grip your shoulders from behind, yanking you into an alleyway before you can even react. The world tilts as you struggle, trying to break free, but the stranger’s grip is ironclad. Your heart starts to race, panic rising in your chest.

"Hey, what do you—" you try to shout, but your voice is quickly smothered by the hand clamped over your mouth.

The man pulls you deeper into the alley, his breath hot and rancid against your ear. You kick and squirm, but it's no use. He's too strong. You feel the cold steel of a knife pressed against your side as he threatens in a low voice, “Quiet down, sweetheart. We’re just going for a little ride.”

Your breath quickens, panic flooding your veins as your mind races for a way out. But just as you're starting to lose hope, you hear the unmistakable sound of a webbing snap against the air.

“Let her go!” a voice shouts from above, clear and demanding. Your heart skips a beat. It's Spider-Man.

The kidnapper freezes, his eyes darting up to the rooftop above. Jisung, in full Spider-Man mode, swings down on a web with perfect timing, landing in a crouch right between you and your captor.

“Spider-Man, huh?” The kidnapper sneers, his grip tightening on your arm. “You think you can stop me?”

Jisung’s posture shifts, ready for action. “I don’t think, I know.”

Before the man can make another move, Spider-Man shoots a web directly at his hand, pulling the knife out of his grip with lightning speed. The man yells in frustration as he tries to retreat, but Spider-Man’s webbing quickly ensnares his feet, pinning him to the ground.

“Not so fast,” Jisung says, his voice steady, though there’s a flicker of anger beneath it. He’s clearly furious that someone dared to hurt you. “You’re not going anywhere.”

But before Jisung can deal with him, a loud crash rings through the alley. You turn just in time to see a figure in a blue and red suit landing with a heavy thud right next to you.

Deadpool.

“Sorry I’m late,” Minho—Deadpool—says, his voice muffled under the mask. He holds up a pair of handcuffs, looking at the struggling kidnapper. “I had to stop for tacos. You know, priorities.”

Jisung shoots him a look, his eyes wide behind his mask. “You’re—how did—what are you—” Deadpool shrugs, completely unfazed. “I’ve been around. Don’t worry about it.”

“Wait, you were the one who—?” You gasp, realization hitting you like a ton of bricks.

Minho grins beneath his mask. “Yeah, yeah. Deadpool, the guy who totally didn’t save you from getting kidnapped.”

You blink, feeling like the world is spinning. Your brain scrambles to process this new information, but the kidnapper—who is still struggling beneath Spider-Man’s grip—gives you no time to think.

Your pulse thunders in your ears as your eyes dart between the two masked figures—one holding your attacker with webbing, the other acting like this was all some twisted joke.

Your body tenses. “No,” you mutter, your voice trembling with disbelief. “No—I don't want your help.” You jerk away from Minho as he approaches. “Get away from me!”

“Y/n—” Jisung tries, but you take a step back, heart racing, chest heaving. “You don’t understand—”

“I don’t understand?!” you snap. 

“You’re Deadpool. You ruined my life. You turned my dad in without saying a word.” 

Minho flinches, and for a second, he doesn't speak. Then, slowly—deliberately—he reaches up and pulls off his mask. Your breath catches. His dark eyes meet yours, and they're not smug, not cocky, not playful.mThey're full of guilt.

So you see it, it’s Minho, your breath itches as you feel the world spinning under your feet, “You disappeared. You lied to me every day while pretending to be my friend—”

“I did it for the best,” he says quietly. “I didn’t tell you because I knew you’d hate me. But I couldn’t let him keep hurting people, Y/N. And I couldn’t watch you act like it wasn’t destroying you too.”

Your throat tightens, hot and raw. “You had no right.”

“I know,” he whispers. “I know.” A heavy silence hangs between you for a long moment—until Jisung steps forward. “Minho…” he murmurs, but Minho just glances at him.

“Don’t look at me like that, Spider-Boy. You’re next.” Jisung sighs and turns to you slowly. “Y/n... I didn’t want it to happen like this either.”

Your eyes narrow. “You knew?”

“No.” His voice breaks slightly. “I didn’t know he was Deadpool until a few days ago. But I knew I was keeping something from you too.” Then—without another word—he reaches for his mask and pulls it off.

Your breath stops. “Jisung…” His name falls from your lips like a broken prayer.

“I swear I was going to tell you. I didn’t want you to be caught in this. But then you asked me to go after Deadpool and—” he trails off, eyes flicking guiltily to Minho. “It got messy.” You stumble backward, shaking your head as you try to process everything. Two people you trusted. Two people who lied.

“You both… lied to me. Every day.”

Neither of them speaks. And that hurts the most.

Your eyes sting. “Get out of my way.”

“Y/n—” Minho begins.

“No. Both of you,” you say firmly, lifting your chin despite the tears beginning to fall. “I don’t care if you were trying to protect me. I didn’t ask you to. I asked for honesty.”

Then, stepping around them both, you walk away—heart pounding, steps shaky, mind spinning—leaving behind the only two people who ever made you feel safe… and the only two who just destroyed that trust in seconds.

The university halls are loud again. Midterms are creeping in, people are caffeinated beyond logic, and the world moves on—even when your heart feels like it slammed into a wall.

You walk in with your headphones on, eyes locked on the floor, clutching your backpack like it’s a shield. You know they’re both there. Jisung, sitting by the window like always. Minho, slouched in his seat with a frown that could burn holes in steel. You don’t look at either of them.

“Y/n—” Jisung’s voice is soft. Desperate.

You keep walking.

Minho straightens up. “Can we talk?” 

Nope. Not today.

You walk past them, not even flinching when your name is called again. You do, however, pause at the back of the classroom. Your usual spot is next to Jisung—but your eyes drift to the middle row. There's an empty seat… next to someone new.

He’s relaxed, arms crossed, hair tousled in a perfectly effortless way. His black hoodie is slightly oversized, and he’s scribbling something in a notebook like he doesn’t care if the world burns down outside. He looks… safe. But also like he knows things.

You clear your throat softly. “Hey. Is this seat taken?”

He looks up, slowly. His eyes flicker with something unreadable before he smiles—crooked and quiet. “It is now.” You sit.

From across the room, both Minho and Jisung are frozen. You don’t even need to look to know that they’re staring. You can feel it. The tension. The questions. The confusion.

But you don’t care. Because the guy next to you smells like mint and ink, and when he turns the page in his notebook, you catch a glimpse of your name written in the corner. Wait—what?

Your head turns. “Did you—?”

He smirks, not looking at you. “Guess I’ve heard about you.”

“Who—” you pause, suddenly cautious. “What’s your name?”

He finally looks at you again, eyes darker than before but not unfriendly. “Chan. Bang Chan.”

The rooftop is quiet, bathed in soft neon glow from the city below. Somewhere far off, a siren wails, but for now, there's nothing urgent. Just two masked vigilantes sitting on the edge, legs dangling like bored teenagers.

Deadpool tosses a half-eaten taco in the air and catches it with his mouth. “So. She’s sitting next to that guy now.”

Spider-Man, sitting stiffly beside him, doesn’t respond. “I mean, what’s his deal anyway?” Minho continues. “Bang Chan? That sounds like the name of someone who’s too hot to be real. Like, he was made in a lab.”

“You’re literally a mercenary with swords and sarcasm. You don’t get to judge names.” Jisung glares through his mask, but Minho just shrugs, chewing noisily.

“She ignored both of us,” Jisung finally mutters.

Minho scoffs. “Yeah. Because we lied to her. Multiple times.”

A gust of wind brushes over the rooftop. Jisung fiddles with his web-shooter. “I didn’t want to lie. I just… didn’t know how to tell her.”

“Well, now she’s sitting next to Bang Perfect Jawline Chan and pretending we don’t exist.”

“She’s allowed to do that,” Jisung sighs, then adds under his breath, “Still sucks though.”

A pause.

“Think he’s… like us?” Minho asks suddenly.

“What do you mean? Like, charming and emotionally unavailable?”

Minho shoots him a dry look. “I mean powered, dumbass.”

Before Jisung can respond, both of their comms beep sharply in their ears. Robbery in progress. Lower East Side. Minho groans. “Duty calls.”

Jisung’s already jumping off the roof. “Race you there.”

The warehouse is chaos. Smoke. Screams. Gunshots. Spider-Man swings low, yanking a rifle out of someone’s hand while Deadpool flips over a stack of crates, landing a punch that sends a guy flying.

“Watch your left!” Jisung yells.

“I have a left!” Minho shouts back, slicing through a metal bar like it’s butter.

They fall into rhythm. Their synergy unmatched. Like muscle memory. But even while fighting, their minds are elsewhere. “You think she actually likes him?” Jisung pants, throwing a web at a goon’s legs.

Minho ducks under a punch. “She laughed at something he said. I saw it. Like, really laughed.”

“Oh god. Not the laugh.”

“She doesn’t laugh like that at us.”

“Yeah, because we keep secrets and get her kidnapped.” They both pause for a second, catching their breath behind a pillar. A moment of silence. “…We’re idiots,” Jisung mutters.

“Yeah,” Minho agrees. “But I’m a sexy idiot in red leather, so.” Jisung groans. “God, why is that actually true?” Another round of thugs comes charging, and both of them spring into action—still processing heartbreak, betrayal, and the fact that Bang Chan might be better at math and emotions.

The late afternoon sun filters through the tall university windows, casting long golden streaks across the floor. You're sitting in your new usual seat, notebook open, doodles replacing actual notes. Next to you, Bang Chan leans back in his chair, effortlessly casual, one arm slung behind you on the backrest—not quite touching, but close enough to make your skin prickle.

“You’ve been quiet today,” he says, voice low and smooth, his eyes flickering over your expression.

You offer a half-smile. “Just tired.”

He doesn’t press. Doesn’t tease. Just nods slowly. “Yeah. It’s been a weird week.”

You glance sideways. “What do you mean?”

Chan taps his pen against the edge of your notebook. “I mean… masked guys crashing through warehouses. Unmarked cars around campus. You hanging out with those like it’s nothing.”

Your body stiffens. “I’m not hanging out with them.”

“Oh?” he says, eyebrows raised with mock surprise. “Could’ve fooled me. You seemed real close back in the alley the other night.”

Your jaw tightens. You hadn’t told anyone about that. Not in detail. “Were you there?”

He smiles—not innocent. Not threatening. Just… knowing. “I hear things,” he says smoothly. “People like me, we tend to be in the right place at the right time.”

“And what kind of person is that?” The look he gives you makes your stomach twist. “Someone who sees the bigger picture.”

You go still, your pen frozen mid-word. Chan leans in slightly, his voice just above a whisper. “You don’t have to choose the losing side, Y/n. You’re smarter than that. Stronger, too.”

You swallow. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Sure you do.” His smile drops, just for a second. “And when the time comes, I hope you remember who was honest with you.” Before you can respond, the professor walks in and the room shifts with movement. You stare forward, heart racing. Chan sits perfectly still beside you, flipping open his textbook like nothing happened.

But the air is heavy. Too heavy.

The wind whips gently at your coat as you climb the final ladder step onto the rooftop. The city glows below you, soft and buzzing with its usual rhythm—but tonight, it feels quieter. Like it’s waiting.

You shiver, even though the air isn’t that cold. You’re not sure if it’s nerves or instinct.

“Y/n?” Jisung’s voice comes first—his Spider-Man mask pulled halfway up his face, eyes wide with concern. Minho, still fully dressed as Deadpool, leans casually against the railing, but you can feel the tension radiating off him like heat.

“You okay?” Minho asks, dropping the casual act for once. “You said it was urgent.”

You take a breath. “It’s Chan.”

Both heads snap toward you immediately. “I think he’s—” You pause, rubbing your arms. “I think he knows something. About everything. About you guys. About me.”

Minho straightens. “What did he say?”

You explain everything—his tone, the things he mentioned, the weird feeling that clung to you long after the conversation ended. By the time you’re done, Jisung is pacing and Minho is practically vibrating with protective rage.

“He was trying to recruit you,” Minho mutters darkly. “Of course he was. I should’ve seen it.”

“I don’t understand why he’d come after me,” you say quietly.

“Because you’re important,” Jisung says instantly, almost without thinking. He stops pacing and looks at you, eyes soft. “To us.”

You look between them, suddenly overwhelmed by the way both their faces—masked or not—hold the same worry. Not frustration. Not disappointment. Just fear. For you. “I didn’t know who else to talk to,” you admit. “I can’t talk to anyone about this. Not my mom. Not even—myself, half the time.”

“You did the right thing,” Minho says, stepping forward. He places a gloved hand on your shoulder. “And next time he tries to talk to you alone, you tell us.”

Jisung’s jaw ticks. “Or better—don’t talk to him at all.”

“I can handle myself.”

“We know,” they say in unison.

You snort. “You two rehearsed that?” They glance at each other and both grin—just for a second, the tension breaks. Then Jisung’s expression hardens again. “We’ll keep an eye on him. Just… stay close, okay?”

Minho nods. “We’ve already lost you once. Not again.”

The smell of fresh pasta hits you the second you walk through the door. It's comforting, something that tethers you to the familiar—home. But tonight, the warmth of the restaurant doesn't comfort you the way it usually does. The tension has been thickening all day, ever since Chan walked in with that smile that somehow felt too practiced. Too knowing.

You find yourself sitting across from him again. The air is thick with the sound of clinking glasses and murmured conversations around you, but here, at this table, it feels like it’s just the two of you. Chan leans back in his chair, that same relaxed smile on his face as he swirls the wine in his glass. “I’ve been meaning to talk to you.”

You arch an eyebrow, trying to keep your tone light. “About what?”

His smile deepens. “About you. And what you really want.”

The words sink in slower than you expect, and you feel your chest tighten. “What do you mean?”

Chan leans forward now, his voice dropping low, a velvet smoothness lacing every word. “I know your family’s situation. Your father’s... business deals. I know you’re struggling with all of it.” His eyes lock onto yours with an intensity that makes you shiver.“But I can help you, Aurora. We can help each other.” You frown, a cold chill running down your spine as his words swirl in your mind. 

The mafia. 

Your father. 

The dangerous world you tried to distance yourself from.

“I don’t need your help, Chan,” you say, your voice more defensive than you want it to be.

But Chan just smirks, unfazed. “I think you do. You think you can escape this? Leave it behind? But it’s in your blood, Aurora. You’re already in deeper than you realize.” You open your mouth to argue, but he cuts you off with a soft laugh.

“I’m not trying to pressure you, sweetheart,” he says, his voice almost too gentle. “I just want you to see the bigger picture. You don’t have to fight it. It’s just a matter of understanding the rules. Play the game, and it’ll be easier. For everyone.”

The weight of his words lingers in the air, like a noose tightening around your chest. You don’t want to admit it, but something about the way he speaks... sells you the idea. The idea that maybe, just maybe, you could stop running.

“Do you really think I’ll join you?” you ask quietly, your gaze shifting away from him.

Chan leans back again, his gaze never leaving you. “I think you already have.” He pauses, watching your face carefully. “But you just don’t realize it yet.”

You feel a sting of panic. The way he says it—it’s not a threat, but it’s a promise. A quiet, dangerous certainty.

“Chan, I—” You stop yourself, shaking your head as if to clear your thoughts. "I can't do this. I can't get involved in whatever game you're playing."

He doesn’t respond immediately. Instead, he lifts his glass, swirling the wine again as he watches you carefully. “You don’t have to make any decisions right now. Just think about it. Think about what you really want. What you need.”

The smile he gives you next is laced with something darker, something you can’t place—but it feels like the weight of everything pressing in on you. You don’t know if it’s his words or something else that makes you feel so... uncertain. You don’t know what this is. What he wants from you. But you can feel it. The pull.

Later that night, you find yourself walking home in the quiet of the city, trying to shake the feeling of Chan's words clinging to your thoughts. The sound of your footsteps echoes against the empty streets, and for a moment, you almost forget about the weight you’ve been carrying. But then you hear a soft rustle in the alleyway beside you.

You freeze, your heart pounding in your chest. You turn to look, but there’s nothing there. Just the darkness. You exhale, trying to calm your nerves. Just your imagination.

That’s when you hear it—a soft chuckle. And then, from the shadows, a figure steps out.

“Minho?” you gasp, already recognizing the red-and-black suit before you even see his face.

But he’s not Minho right now. It’s Deadpool. His mask is half on, and his eyes gleam behind the fabric.

“Are you out here alone, or did you decide to take up a side gig with the mafia?” Deadpool—Minho—teases, stepping closer with an amused smile.

You try to hide the uncertainty in your eyes, but you can feel his gaze drilling into you. “I—I’m fine,” you stammer, not sure if you're trying to convince him or yourself.

Deadpool’s expression shifts, the teasing smile fading just slightly. “Chan’s been getting under your skin, huh?”

You blink at him, surprised by the accuracy of his words. “What are you talking about?”

But Minho just sighs. “I don’t trust him, Y/n. He’s not just some businessman. His ties run deep—deeper than you think.”

You don’t know why, but hearing him say that does something to you. It feels like a warning. Maybe even the kind of warning you should have heard sooner. “I’m not gonna let anything happen to you,” Minho says softly, stepping closer until you feel the heat of his body next to yours. “I care about you too much for that.”

And for the first time in a long while, you wonder if you really can escape the world Chan is offering. Or if Minho and Jisung are right. Maybe you’re already too far gone.

You, fully aware of the mafia's grip on the city and Chan’s role in it, feel a storm of conflicting emotions as you stand in front of him. You smile softly, masking your anxiety. Chan’s slick, charming demeanor never falters, the kind of person who could sell ice to an Eskimo. 

But today, he’s about to be his own downfall.

“So, what’s your proposal, Chan?” you ask coolly, playing the part of the interested, willing participant.

He leans forward, eyes gleaming with that familiar coldness.

“It’s simple, really. I can offer you everything. Power. Protection. A life of luxury. All you have to do is align yourself with the right side—my side.”You nod, pretending to consider it, all the while scanning the surroundings in your mind. The police are ready; the call has already been made. Chan continues to talk, oblivious to the trap you’ve carefully set.

“I’ve got deals lined up, Y/n. Big ones,” he continues. “I’m not just running the city from the shadows anymore. I’m taking over.”That’s when you see the moment. He’s letting his guard down, giving you the information you need. His pride, his arrogance—it's his biggest weakness.

"Right," you say, nodding again, trying to suppress the rising sense of triumph. "And how exactly do you plan to do that?"

Chan leans back, grinning, clearly thinking he’s already won you over. "You’ll see soon enough. But first, let’s seal the deal, shall we?" He offers you a handshake.

-

The tension between Jisung and Minho hangs thick in the air, thick enough to cut with a knife. The situation with you and Chan has pushed them both to the brink. 

They're angry—at themselves, at each other, at the world around them. Each word feels like a spark ready to ignite something much bigger. "You think you can do everything alone?" Jisung snaps, pacing, his voice full of frustration and something darker. His hands ball into fists, his knuckles white. 

"She doesn't need us to fight her battles! We should've been there! But you—" He points a shaking finger at Minho, the words bubbling up in his throat, "You never let me help her! You never let me—"

Minho’s mask tilts up slightly, his eyes blazing with a fire that mirrors Jisung's. He steps forward, voice low but simmering with anger. "I didn't let you help? Are you kidding me? I wanted to protect her just as much as you did!" His breath is heavy, the tension between them thickening with every word. "But we can't always be there! I... I care about you, Jisung. You’re not the only one who worries about your safety."

Jisung freezes. The words hit him like a sudden punch to the gut, knocking the wind out of him. For a split second, his world slows, and his anger fades into something deeper, something he doesn’t want to admit.

He looks at Minho, standing there, eyes burning with concern—concern for him. The realization stirs something within him, something he can’t ignore.

“You care about my safety?” Jisung’s voice is strained, his own frustrations bubbling back to the surface. “How would you know what it’s like to be the one who’s always left behind? To watch her go off without us, to know you can’t protect her—” His chest heaves with the emotion coursing through him.

But Minho’s not listening to the words anymore. Without thinking, the distance between them disappears in a flash. He moves so fast, it’s almost like the world has stopped moving entirely. His hands grip the sides of Jisung’s face, pulling him in, and before Jisung can even protest, Minho presses his lips to his.

The kiss is nothing like either of them expected. It's rough, urgent—passionate, desperate. All the frustration, the fear, the pent-up emotion they’ve kept locked away explodes into the moment. Minho’s lips crash into Jisung’s, and it feels like everything they’ve been holding back, every word they never said, is poured into this single, searing contact.

Jisung, momentarily stunned, feels his whole body stiffen before he melts into it. His hands find Minho’s waist, pulling him closer, needing to feel the connection. His breath mingles with Minho’s, each movement of their lips speaking volumes—words left unsaid, frustrations turned into something else entirely.

Minho’s fingers tangle in Jisung’s hair, tugging him deeper into the kiss, his body pressing against his. The kiss is messy, raw, but it’s everything they’ve both been too afraid to express—until now. There’s no holding back, no room for hesitation. It’s the release of all the weight they’ve carried for each other, for you, for everything that’s been left unresolved between them.

When they finally pull away, breathless and wide-eyed, the silence feels different. The world has shifted in a way neither of them expected. Neither says anything at first. The heat between them lingers, crackling in the air. Minho’s voice is soft, almost uncertain, but the emotions behind it are clear. “I didn’t mean for it to be like this...”

Jisung, still recovering from the kiss, barely manages a laugh, but it’s lighter than anything he’s felt in a long time. “Yeah, me neither...”

The fight feels smaller now, the anger dissipating like fog in the morning sun. What was once heated and full of tension now hangs suspended between them—a new understanding, one that’s only just begun to take root.

You hesitate for just a second. You lock eyes with him, your hand moving to meet his, but this is it. This is the moment where you get him, where you shut him down.

As soon as your hands clasp, a familiar sound fills the air: sirens. Chan’s face drops, his smug confidence vanishing in an instant. Police officers rush in, and you step back, watching as Chan is cuffed.

“You... you tricked me?” Chan hisses, fury flashing in his eyes as he’s led away.

You stay composed, a small smirk playing at your lips. "Tricked you? maybe."

Before you can fully process the feeling of relief, a voice rings out from above. "Y/n?!"

Your heart races, and you whip your head up to see none other than Spider-Man (Jisung) swinging down from the rooftop. He lands softly beside you, his mask hiding the concern in his eyes.

“Are you okay?” Jisung asks, but before you can respond, his eyes flick to the police officers. “What’s going on here?”

You, despite everything, try to keep your composure, and with a flicker of uncertainty in your chest, you meet Jisung’s gaze. You see the moment he realizes what happened.

"You... called the police?” he asks, his voice laced with disbelief. "You caught him... you—"

You nod, your voice calm. “Yeah. I did.”

For a second, you both just stare at each other, the weight of the moment sinking in. Jisung, still in his Spider-Man suit, stands in front of you, visibly tense, unsure of what to feel. But you can tell that his protective instincts are at war with his pride.

"Good job," he says finally, voice softer. "But you shouldn't have done it alone." You look at him, your heart twisting a little. You know it’s coming. You know he’s going to be upset, and you don’t want to hurt him—especially after everything that’s been happening. You open your mouth to speak, but the words get caught in your throat.

Before you can say anything, Deadpool appears, and he glances at the scene, his mouth curving into a grin under the mask. “Did you get him, blondie?” he teases, his voice light, but there’s an edge to it that you know too well.

You nod. "Yeah, it’s done."

Minho steps forward, looking between you and Jisung. There’s something in his eyes now, a quiet intensity. "You don’t need to do this alone, you know."

You swallow, your heart racing. You know they’re both trying to process this moment in their own ways, but all you want is to be honest with them. "I just... I couldn’t let him hurt anyone else. Not anymore."

The silence is thick, but it doesn’t feel heavy. It’s as if a weight has been lifted, but another one—much more personal—has settled in its place.

The city hums under the rooftop like a secret waiting to be heard. You’re sitting on the ledge, legs dangling, the wind teasing your hair. It’s late—too late for anyone sane to be out here—but the chaos inside you makes everything feel louder than the sirens below.

Jisung sits beside you, not too close. Not yet.

He doesn’t speak at first. Just watches the streetlights dance in your eyes. You’re the one who breaks the silence. “He told me… my dad had a deal with them. That’s why they’re watching me.”

Jisung’s hands clench. His jaw ticks. “Chan?”

You nod, eyes glazed. “I don’t know if he’s lying. I don’t even know who’s lying anymore.” There’s a stretch of silence, but it’s not cold. Jisung shifts closer, his knee brushing yours.

“I’d never lie to you,” he says softly. “Neither would Minho.”

You bite your lip, looking at him. “But you did hide things. Both of you.” He nods, guilt flickering in his gaze. “Because I thought I was protecting you. But now... I just want to be honest.” A pause. Then he reaches out and tucks a strand of hair behind your ear—his fingers brushing your cheek just a second too long.

“I care about you,” he whispers. “More than I should. And I know Minho does too.”

Your heart stutters. “I don’t want to choose,” you murmur.

“Maybe you don’t have to,” he says, almost breathless. You blink at him—surprised by his words, your lips parting as if to say something— And then the door creaks open.

Minho walks in. He stops mid-step. His gaze flicks from you to Jisung. His mask is off, and the mix of pain and jealousy in his eyes hits like a bullet. “Oh. I see,” he says dryly.

You stand, suddenly overwhelmed. “Minho—”

But he steps forward, dropping whatever sarcasm was building in his throat. “No. I shouldn’t have waited. I should’ve told you first.”

“Told me what?”

Minho walks right up to you, gaze steady. “That I love you.” The air splits in two. You forget how to breathe. Jisung rises behind you, stunned silent. “Hyung…”

But Minho doesn’t stop. “And I know he does too,” he adds, nodding toward Jisung. “So maybe… just maybe… we stop pretending that this is a triangle. Maybe we stop pretending it’s a fight.”

You stare at both of them—heart thundering, hands shaking. “And if it’s not a fight… what is it?” you whisper. 

Minho’s eyes soften, though there’s still that edge to him—something sharp in the way he moves toward you. It’s as if he wants to reach out, but there’s hesitation. Not because he doubts you, but because he’s afraid of the unknown. Afraid of the depth of what’s between the three of you.

Jisung, standing just slightly behind Minho, seems lost in his own thoughts for a moment. He’s always been the more open one, the one who wears his heart on his sleeve—but there’s something about this moment that has him hesitating too.

“It’s us,” Jisung finally says, his voice low and steady, as though he’s putting everything on the line. “If you want it to be.”

Your breath catches in your throat as his words sink in. The weight of them presses against your chest. It’s not just a simple statement—it’s an invitation, a promise, a vulnerability laid bare. You meet his gaze, searching for any sign of uncertainty, any sign of fear in his eyes. But all you see is something deeper, something raw and real.

Minho steps forward, his gaze intense, his expression unreadable. His fingers twitch at his sides like he’s fighting the urge to reach for you, and you feel the tension in the air shift. It’s like everything in the world has come down to this moment—the three of you, here, together.

“I think we’ve both been waiting for this,” Minho murmurs, his voice soft but firm. You can hear the weight of his words, the longing behind them, the way he’s been holding himself back for so long. “But it’s not just about us. It’s about you too.”

Your heart races as you try to steady your breathing. The room feels smaller, the walls closing in around you as the three of you stand there, caught in a moment that’s so heavy with meaning, it almost feels unreal.

There’s a flicker of something—something unspoken—between Minho and Jisung. It’s like they’re both reading the same page of an unwritten story, and they’re waiting for you to join them. It’s a moment of connection, of shared history, of desire that’s been simmering beneath the surface for so long, it’s impossible to ignore any longer.

And then, before you can say another word, Minho steps closer, his hand reaching out to gently touch your arm. The touch is light but filled with meaning, a simple contact that sends a shiver down your spine. His eyes soften as he looks at you, and for a moment, it’s like the whole world disappears.

You feel Jisung behind you, his presence a steady, comforting force. He doesn’t speak, but you can feel his gaze on you, on the way your heart races, the way you’re trembling slightly in the face of everything that’s happening. He’s waiting too—waiting for you to make the decision, to step into something new, something uncertain but full of possibility.

The tension in the air is palpable, like a storm about to break, and you can feel it in your chest. The three of you are standing on the edge of something, something you’re not sure you’re ready for, but can’t walk away from. You take a shaky breath, trying to steady your thoughts.

Minho leans in, his voice barely above a whisper. “We’ve got you, you know. In every way. If you want us.”

And for the first time in what feels like forever, you realize—you want them. Not in the way you thought you did before, but in a deeper, more honest way. This is no longer just about the tension or the heat between you. It’s about something more real, more fragile. It’s about letting go of the fear and the uncertainty and just letting yourself feel—truly feel—what it means to trust them, to be with them.

Jisung’s hand is on your back now, his touch warm and grounding, his presence comforting and steady. It’s all so overwhelming, so intense, that it almost feels like you’re floating. You look up at him, meeting his gaze, and see something soft and tender in his eyes.

“You don’t have to say anything right now,” he murmurs, his voice full of understanding. “But when you’re ready…” Minho nods, his fingers brushing against your skin. The warmth of his touch is enough to melt the walls you’ve built up around yourself. He’s here. They’re both here.

The space between you and Minho feels like it’s shrinking, and before you can think twice, his hand gently cups your face, tilting your head up to meet his gaze. His eyes are soft, almost hesitant, but there’s a longing there, something raw. It’s not rushed. It’s tender. Minho leans in slowly, closing the distance between you, and for a moment, time seems to stop. You breathe in together, the quiet tension before the kiss almost unbearable.

And then, his lips are on yours—soft, warm, gentle at first, as if he’s giving you the chance to pull away. But you don’t. You let yourself fall into it, the moment feeling like it was always meant to be. He kisses you slowly, savoring the connection, the sweetness of the moment. It’s different from everything else that’s happened. It’s grounding. It’s real. You feel his other hand come up, brushing a strand of hair behind your ear as he deepens the kiss, just enough to make your heart race. You melt into him, your own hands finding his chest, feeling the steady thrum of his heartbeat under your palm.

When he pulls away, you’re left breathless, your heart pounding in your chest. He’s still close enough for you to feel his warmth, his breath, and you can see the emotion in his eyes, the vulnerability that he doesn’t often show.

Before you can say anything, you feel Jisung’s hand on your back, his touch like a silent promise. He doesn’t say anything either—he just pulls you toward him gently, pressing his forehead to yours for a brief moment, a silent question in his eyes.

Then, Jisung leans in, his lips brushing against yours, not as gently as Minho’s, but still soft—there’s an intensity to his kiss, something more urgent, more fiery. It’s like he’s trying to say everything that words can’t. His hand moves to your waist, pulling you closer, and you can feel the heat of him against your body.

You give in to the kiss, your lips moving with his, a rhythm that feels familiar already, even though it’s the first time. He tastes like something sweet, something all his own, and you lose yourself in it. The world outside seems to fade away as you sink into the kiss, your arms wrapping around him to keep him close.

When he pulls away, his eyes are darker, filled with something you can’t quite place, but you know it’s real. The air around you feels heavier now, charged with the weight of everything unspoken.

You can’t help the nervous, lighthearted laugh that escapes you as you look at both of them. Their gaze is so intense, so full of warmth, that it makes your heart flutter. “I think I need a moment to catch my breath,” you say, feeling your face heat up. “God, I need ten business days to recover.”

Their laughter fills the air, light and easy, but it’s enough to make your heart race. Minho chuckles and reaches out, brushing his fingers against your cheek in a surprisingly tender way. “I think we should go inside now,” he says, his voice teasing but filled with a softness that catches you off guard.

But Jisung’s eyebrow arches, a mischievous glint in his eyes as he smirks. “You dirty thinker.” His tone is playful, but the way he looks at you makes it clear he’s not letting that moment pass by without some kind of response.

You turn away, your heart hammering in your chest as you try to regain your composure. You didn’t expect things to escalate so quickly, but now, with both of them so close, everything feels different.

As you step toward the door, Minho and Jisung follow closely behind, their steps in sync. You can feel the weight of their eyes on you, their presence right behind you, and it only makes your heart beat faster. 

When you finally reach the door, you hesitate for just a second before opening it, but as soon as you do, you feel two warm hands gently grip your waist from behind, pulling you back against their bodies.

Jisung’s breath is warm against your ear as he whispers, “You don’t get away that easily.”

Minho, on the other hand, leans in, his lips brushing against the side of your neck. The sensation sends a shiver down your spine, and you can’t help but gasp, your skin tingling at the touch. His lips move lower, brushing against the sensitive skin just below your ear, and you can feel the pressure of his kiss intensifying, as if he’s trying to convey everything he feels in this single moment.

Jisung, not wanting to be left out, moves his lips to the other side of your neck, kissing and nibbling lightly, sending another wave of heat through your body. The way they both move in sync, each kiss sending jolts of pleasure and warmth to your core, makes it almost impossible to think straight. Their hands stay firmly at your waist, steadying you as they continue their gentle assault of kisses, their presence all-consuming.

Your body instinctively leans back into them, a soft sigh escaping your lips. The air around you feels charged with something electric, something undeniable. You can feel the weight of their affection—how much they want you, how much they care.

Jisung and Minho press in closer, their breaths hot against your skin. Your heart’s pounding so hard you swear they can hear it, a frantic little rhythm that matches the way your body trembles under their touch. 

Lips crashing and tongues tangling, before they guided you here—your bed looming like some unspoken promise in the dim light. Jisung’s on your left, his soft lips grazing the sensitive spot just below your ear, and oh God, it’s like he’s teasing you on purpose. 

His kisses are light at first, playful nips that make you squirm, but then he drags his tongue slow and wet along the curve of your neck, a low hum vibrating from his throat. “You taste so good,” he murmurs, voice all breathy and needy, like he’s losing himself in it. His hand slides up your arm, fingers digging in just enough to send a shiver racing down your spine. He’s got that switch energy—sweet one second, then hungry the next—and it’s messing with your head in the best way.

Minho, though—he’s something else entirely. 

He’s on your right, and where Jisung teases, Minho claims. His mouth latches onto the other side of your neck, firm and unrelenting, teeth scraping against your skin before he sucks hard enough to leave a mark. 

You gasp, your head tipping back without you even meaning to, giving him more room to work. 

“Stay still,” he growls low against your throat, and it’s not a request—it’s a command that sinks straight into your core, pooling heat between your thighs. His hand’s already on your waist, gripping tight, fingers pressing into the soft flesh there like he’s anchoring you in place. 

He pulls back just enough to smirk, his dark eyes glinting as he inspects the red bloom he’s left on your skin. “That’s better,” he says, voice smooth and dangerous, and you’re already melting under the weight of it.

Your shirt’s bunched up from their hands roaming, the cool air hitting your exposed stomach, and I can’t tell whose fingers are brushing there first—Jisung’s, light and curious, or Minho’s, deliberate and possessive. 

Either way, it’s too much and not enough all at once. 

Jisung’s lips move lower, kissing along your collarbone now, sloppy and eager, his breath hitching like he’s just as wrecked as you are. “Fuck, you’re so soft,” he whines, and there’s that switch again—he’s needy, almost begging, but then he bites down lightly, testing you and you let out a shaky little moan.

Minho’s not having that, though. His hand slides up to your jaw, turning your face toward him, and his lips hover just over yours, close enough that you can feel the heat of him. 

“Eyes on me,” he says, sharp and low, and you obey without thinking, your gaze locking with his. He doesn’t kiss you yet—just watches, like he’s savoring how flustered you’re getting, how your chest heaves with every ragged breath. 

Then Jisung’s tongue flicks over a sensitive spot on your neck, and you whimper, and Minho’s grip tightens. “You like that, don’t you?” he murmurs, his thumb brushing over your bottom lip, tugging it down slightly. “Tell me.”

“Y-yes,” You stammer, voice barely a whisper, and Jisung chuckles softly against your skin, the sound vibrating through me. 

They’re everywhere—Jisung’s messy kisses trailing lower, Minho’s control pinning you in place—and you’re dizzy with it, sinking deeper into whatever this is, your body begging for more.

Your room feels like it’s shrinking, the air heavy with the scent of sweat and something sweeter, maybe Jisung’s lingering cologne or Minho’s leather-and-gunpowder vibe clinging to him from some earlier chaos.

 You’re pinned between them, your pulse racing as their hands and mouths work you into a haze. The bed’s right there, mattress dipping slightly under your weight as they press you back, and you’re not sure how much longer your legs can hold you up with the way they’re unraveling you.

Jisung’s lips sliding from your collarbone down to the edge of your shirt, tugging at it with his teeth like he’s half-teasing, half-desperate. “Fuck, you’re driving me crazy,” he breathes, voice cracking with want, and his hands—those quick, clever hands—slip under the fabric, brushing your bare stomach. 

His touch is light at first, fingers dancing over your skin, but then he presses harder, palms flat and warm, and you feel the faintest tremble in them. He’s switching again—needy to bold—his mouth finding the curve of your chest, kissing through the thin material, a wet spot blooming where his tongue lingers. 

Your back hits the matress of your bed, you’re in ful display for them to play with.

“Can’t get enough of you,” he mumbles, and his teeth graze your skin, sending a jolt straight through you.

Minho’s not about to let Jisung have all the fun. He grabs your chin tighter, forcing your gaze back to him. “Don’t get distracted,”he says, voice low and dripping with that cocky authority, and then he’s kissing you—hard, messy, all tongue and teeth like he’s claiming every inch of your mouth. 

It’s overwhelming, the way he takes control, his other hand sliding down your side, hooking into the waistband of your pants. He pulls back just enough to smirk, breath hot against your lips. “You’re ours tonight,” he says, and there’s no question in it—just pure, filthy promise. His fingers dip lower, teasing the edge of your underwear, and your breath hitches, loud in the quiet room.

Jisung’s not backing off, though—he’s tugging your shirt up higher now, exposing more of you to the cool air, and his lips follow, kissing a sloppy trail up your ribs. “So fucking pretty,” he whines, and you feel his fingers flex against your skin, like he’s fighting the urge to just rip everything off. 

Your hips buck involuntarily, seeking more friction, but Minho just chuckles and pulls back, denying you.

"Someone's impatient," he murmurs, voice low and teasing. His breath ghosts over your ear, sending shivers down your spine. "Tell us what you want, blondie. Beg for it."

As you arch into their touches, Jisung and Minho's gazes lock over your shoulder. The air crackles with tension, and before you can say another word, their lips crash together in a heated, desperate kiss. 

Jisung's hands grip Minho's shirt, pulling him closer as Minho's fingers tangle in Jisung's hair. They're kissing like they're starving for each other, tongues tangling in a messy dance that mirrors the chaos of their touches on your body. 

You're between them, every hitch in their breaths, and it's pushing you closer to the edge. Jisung's free hand roams over your hip, squeezing possessively, while Minho's fingers finally slip beneath your underwear, teasing your wet heat. 

Your sharp gasp breaks through their heated kiss, and they pull apart, panting. Jisung's eyes are dark with desire as he watches Minho's fingers brush against your pussy lips.

"Fuck, she's so wet," Minho murmurs, his voice rough with want. He presses a finger inside you, slow and deliberate, curling it just right to make your legs tremble. Jisung leans in, his lips brushing against your ear as he whispers, "You like that, don't you? Being touched by both of us?"

His hand slides up your stomach, squeezing your breast through your bra, thumb brushing over your nipple. You can only whimper in response, overwhelmed by their touches, their words, the heat building inside you. “Oh fuck.”

Minho smirks at the view of you being so needy, “Yeah? Like it?”

You nods and he adds a second finger, pumping them in and out at a steady pace, his thumb circling your clit. Jisung's hand slips into your bra, pinching and rolling your nipple between his fingers. They're working in sync, pushing you higher and higher, their touches sending jolts of pleasure through your body. 

“S-Shit please!”

You're writhing between them, your hips moving on their own, chasing the friction. Jisung captures your mouth in a messy kiss, swallowing your moans as Minho's fingers curl deeper, hitting that spot that makes your vision blur. 

"Come on, Y/N," Minho encourages, his voice a low growl. "Show us how much you love this. Come for us."

Their touches grow more urgent, more demanding, as their own desire reaches a boiling point. Jisung breaks the kiss, panting heavily, his hard length pressing insistently against your hip.

“Fuck, I need to be inside you," he growls, his fingers digging into your thigh. Minho's breath is hot against your neck, his hips grinding against your backside, his erection evident through his pants. 

"Now,Y/N," he commands, his fingers pausing their movements. "Tell us what you want. Beg for our cocks." They're both trembling with restraint, their patience wearing thin, waiting for you to give them the green light to take you completely.

Your head moves backward as you can barely contain your moans, you’re seeing the stars.  “Please.”

The single, desperate plea falls from your lips, and it's like a dam breaking.

Jisung's hands are shaking as he unbuttons his pants, pushing them down just enough to free his hard, leaking cock. 

Minho's not far behind, his zipper echoing loudly in the room as he pulls out his own thick length. Your pants and panties moves down with your shaky hands, your eyes half hidden.

They position themselves at your entrance, the heads of their cocks pressing against your soaked folds, one from behind, jisung in front of you, waiting for your signal.

"Say it again," Jisung urges, his voice strained. "Tell us you need us."

Minho's hand wraps around your throat, tilting your head back, his eyes boring into yours. "Beg for it, Y/N.Beg for us to fill you up."

Your whimpers echoes in their ears, “Please, please i need it...” Your whines, desperate and needy, push them over the edge. With a synchronized thrust, they bury themselves inside you, stretching you deliciously. 

Jisung's hands grip your hips tightly, his fingers digging into your skin as he sets a fast, hard pace. Minho's hand remains on your throat, his other arm wrapping around your waist, pulling you back onto his cock as he meets Jisung's thrusts. 

They're moving in perfect sync, their cocks rubbing against each other through the thin barrier, creating a delicious friction that has you seeing stars. "Fuck, you're so tight," Jisung pants, his hips snapping forward. 

"So perfect," Minho agrees, his lips brushing against your ear. They're consuming you, filling you completely, their bodies pressing you between the mattress and their hard muscles. The room fills with the sounds of their grunts, your moans, and the slick slap of skin on skin.

You clench around their thick length, you can’t last long. “Guys... g-guys i don’t...—” 

Your words trail off into a high-pitched whine as your orgasm crashes over you, your inner walls clamping down on their cocks. Jisung and Minho groan in unison, their thrusts growing erratic as they chase their own releases.

"Fuck, Y/N, you're squeezing us so hard," Jisung grits out, his fingers digging into your hips hard enough to bruise. Minho's grip on your throat tightens slightly, his other hand snaking around to rub tight circles on your clit, prolonging your pleasure.

"Com’on, baby, milk our cocks," he encourages, his voice a low, dirty murmur in your ear. Their hips piston forward, driving into you with abandon, the bed shaking beneath you as they pound you through your orgasm and into another. 

The sensation is overwhelming, your body convulsing between theirs as they fill you with their hot cum, marking you inside and out.

As the final waves of your shared orgasm subside, Jisung and Minho collapse on either side of you, their bodies slick with sweat. They're breathing heavily, their chests heaving against your back and side. Jisung presses a gentle kiss to your shoulder, his lips lingering on your skin.

"You okay?" he asks softly, his hand brushing your hair back from your forehead. Minho's arm wraps around your waist, pulling you closer to him, his fingers tracing idle patterns on your stomach.

“That was... intense," he murmurs, a hint of a smile in his voice. You're sandwiched between them, their warmth enveloping you, their scents mingling with yours in a heady mix. The room is quiet except for the sound of your labored breaths and the occasional soft murmur from Jisung, still high from the passion.

You’re lying between Jisung and Minho, their arms still around you, and you’re trying to catch your breath—though, it feels like it’s still stuck somewhere in your chest. Every time your mind tries to process what just happened, your heart starts to beat faster, and your stomach does little flips, making it impossible to focus.

You shift a little, your body pressed against theirs, and it sends a jolt of warmth through your skin. The soft pressure of their arms around you makes you feel safe, and the intimacy of it all hits you in waves. This is really happening. You’re trying to act normal, but it’s impossible when you feel like you’re on fire from the inside out.

“Ugh, I don’t even know what to do with myself right now,” you mumble, your voice barely a whisper, but loud enough that both of them can hear. You let out a little giggle, not sure if you want to laugh or groan. “I just... I just had an intimate moment with Spider-Man and Deadpool—and I’m freaking out.”

Jisung chuckles softly, nuzzling the top of your head with his nose. “What’s wrong, angel? Not used to being surrounded by two heroes?”

Minho grunt, hitting jisung’s head with his hand slapping it lightly, making the younger whine, “I’m not such a ‘hero’ thing.”

You groan dramatically, burying your face in your pillow to hide your flushed cheeks. “I mean, yes! This is crazy! How do I even—” You cut yourself off, feeling like you can’t even form a coherent thought right now. “I mean... you two,” you manage, your words coming out in a tiny, whiny voice. “I... I can’t believe I just had an amazing time with you two.”

Minho shifts beside you, his hand brushing gently against your waist. His voice is low and soothing, but you can hear the teasing lilt in it. “You seemed to enjoy it, though. You kept asking for more.”

Your entire face flushes at his words, and you groan again, hiding your face in the pillow even harder. “Stop!” you whine, flailing your arms a little in frustration.  Minho chuckles, leaning in to press a light kiss to the top of your head. “You’re adorable when you’re all embarrassed like this. Don’t worry, though. We’re not going anywhere.”

Your heart flutters even more at that, and the gentle reassurance makes you want to curl up into them even further. What did I just get myself into? You’re overwhelmed, your mind still racing, but somehow in the best way possible.

“God, I feel like I need to take a moment to breathe,” you say, burying your face in the crook of Jisung’s arm. “I’m so dizzy. You two are so... intense.” You giggle again, trying to make light of the situation even though your body is tingling with heat. 

Minho hums lowly, his hand lightly caressing your back. “We’re not going to make you regret it, blondie. Trust me.” You sigh dramatically, still feeling the aftershocks of the intimacy. 

The weight of everything hangs in the air for a moment, and then you feel them both press a kiss to your forehead, making your heart flip once more. This is real. This is happening. You can’t deny it anymore.

“Don’t worry,” Jisung says softly, his voice tender now. “We’re here. Always.”

You close your eyes, smiling to yourself, feeling the warmth of their closeness. “Yeah,” you whisper, your voice barely audible. “I guess... I guess I’m lucky. I have Spider-Man and Deadpool here. With me.”

[hanjisunglover]

002. 𝟗 𝐌𝐌 - 𝐂𝐀𝐒𝐒𝐄𝐓𝐓𝐄 𝐄𝐃𝐈𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍

001. <- 002. -> 003.

warnings: reader here is talking about her suicide thoughts so, if this trigger you do not read it.

words count: 2k

When you were a child, people always thought that maybe you could be a heroine.

You're not sure why, it's maybe the way that you always think of another compromise between two sides, or the way that you smile even if it hurts. You, never really get it. With powers, or without, you can't imagine yourself sitting on the edge of a skyscraper, looking at the city as if it were yours. Because New York was never yours.

You get up here, but it never felt right. You like the view, but you never loved it. It's the same when you just accept your fate and your don't go over that, you adapt yourself easily - pretty much all over the places.

At university, at work, with your family, with your friends. Everywhere, you seems to adapt, and sometimes this is good enough to make you survive. Because that's how you are, jumping around in places and surviving in every situation.

Or at least that what you do.

You can't imagine yourself as a hero, and not even an antihero, or a villain if that could interest someone. You are just, you. In your easy life, that started to be all chaotic and full of too many people that try to change it.

Like Han Jisung.

You are walking down the hall, your mind all around the places because after you left from home the same morning, Minho wasn't there in front of the gate of your house. He's calling sick, but he's never sick. His immune system it's the icon of health. But you didn't asked any questions about it, you just stayed there texting back with a light pout.

[ minho 07:50am ] too early to pout like that bunny.

His text makes you chuckle lightly, he knows you so well that he pictured you pouting like a baby because he's not there with you. You don't know that Deadpool it's on top of a skyscraper, moving his legs on the edge with his phone in his hand, your figure right down the street. He knows that you're doing because he's watching you from afar, but.. you don't know that.

And that breaks minho's heart a little, cause he's so scared of telling you who he really is, that he decide to just lie for your own good, if people that are against him knows that he cares about someone that much that he cares about you - that would put you in too much danger.

As you walk inside the University Minho sigh deeply, knowing that inside there he can't actually protect you like he should. That would be too crazy, getting inside the classes just to follow you in his costume, he would have too many attentions. Even if he likes it, he likes only your attention.

Minho stops when he hear a whistle from behind, he glance as with his hand he gets ready to grab his gun from the holster, "hey hey go easy Deady," the voice behind makes him groan in annoyance, "how many times I need to tell you to not call me like that."

Spider-man walk beside him with a toast in his mouth, the mask lightly up as his blue electric costume get in the older's visual, "how many times I need to tell you that I do not care?"

Deadpool roll his eyes, his arms crossed against his chest as he notice his friend with a bag pack, "so, you go in this university?"

"good try Deady, but I gotta go," Jisung says faking his flattering with a smirk, finishing his toast and putting on his jacket, before swinging away with his cobwebs.

You're walking down the hall, your headphones on with some noisy music that could describe perfectly your morning, when you noticed that today, it's exactly six months that your father is in jail. Your mind it's blurry, you can't actually figure out why he did it. Why he started to sell drugs right in the shop, right under your nose, and you never noticed. You never noticed because his smile was always the same, and the money never increased that much to shock you, you never thought that could happened to you; to your mother and your grandmother. You barely can have a conversation with them, without your eyes to tear up or your angry to cover your gentle tone that you have with them. Something changed in you that day. It's hard to say what, to say why, it's just happened. You started to enter in your room from the window at night, almost like an inspected visitor in your own apartment, Your mother always down on the couch, a blanket over her body to rest the poor hours of break from her two jobs, your grandmother always look at the little window in the living room. She doesn't do the crosswords week anymore, and you're too tired to fight about it, you're too tired to do more of the things. You're slowly drowning.

You're too inside your mind that you don't notice that you bump into a boy, you quickly turn almost tripping in your own feet. "God are you okay?" You asks with your eyes wide open.

Jisung immediately grabs your shoulders to steady himself, and his face is flushed red from embarrassment and adrenaline from the sudden movement. "Oh no, no, it's alright." he chuckles and smiles at you. "You're quite nimble for a clumsy girl, hm?"

"am I?" You chuckles as you blush a little when his hands moves his hands away from your shoulders. His shoulders relax, and he recognized you right away. Even if he save a lot of people during his work-day, he remembers you like a sunny day. He remember your bright smile that you gave to him as he left with his cobwebs and a smile hidden by his mask. That made him feel, so alive, so happy for what he does and his little work. Is not that little, but he's not confident yet.

"yeah, yeah you looks like it." He grin lightly.

Your eyes try to catch a single sign of awkwardness, but his whole vibe it's so friendly that makes you feel like you should talk to him more than you wish, "Did we ever met before?"

Jisung shakes his head, blushing as he try so hard to not get out his big secret, he's not that good to keep them. "I don't think so, I would definitely remember a pretty girl like you."

You can hear your best friend calling you from the end of the hall, in the class that you are supposed to be, because your lesson start in exactly two minutes. "well, I'm gonna see you around..?"

"Jisung, call me Jisung," he says softly with a light smile, he moves his hand close to yours, you hold it really quick before walking away with speedy steps, "I'll see you around Jisung!"

You're sitting at the edge. Looking down at the view of the city, why everything looks and seems so small for you? New York City is one of the biggest city that you ever see, you're moving your feet against the edge of the Manhattan bridge in the middle of the night. You feel that city suffocating you, getting around your neck and squeeze it in a slow, making you suffering and desiring to just escape from there. Escape from New York, for your father, from your life.

But at the same time you feel guilty to imagining yourself taking that plane, leaving your mother, your grandmother, Minho. You can't think about your life without imagining Minho in it, you feel him so close in your bones that is the only no-suffocating emotion that you feel. His voice, his touch, makes you feel loved.

You blush at the thought of the guy, shaking your head lightly as you sigh deeply. You don't understand why you feel and what you feel about him, you never complained his attentions or his sarcastic comments. He was there for you when you dad tried to call you from the prison, he was there when your grandma got back home, he was still there after sawing your crying face from the horrible fight with your mother. He never judged you, he just grabbed the clothes on the floor in your room with a light smile and he just said "let me clean you up."

He was there. And honestly, right now you just want to go. You just want to run away, to hide, to feel your feelings and just escape from that reality that hurts more than you can imagine. A big sigh escape your lips as you look down again, the jump seems an easy escape. The only chance.

"hey blondie," a blue electric suit sits right next to you, "are you getting ready for a big jump?" You squirm surprised as she turn to the side, a Spiderman's mask shows to you.

He sounds friendly even if he's talking about something that deep to you, you feel the adrenaline through your veins just to talk about that, "I- maybe?"

His head tilts a little, you can imagine a confused face on him, even if you don't know who is actually under the mask. Could be anyone to you. "maybe? so I should stay here."

"no I think, I think you can actually go."

"do you like the view?" Spiderman murmurs as your eyes land down, on the busy streets, the people walking, the loud chaos of Manhattan. "no, I hate it."

"Jeez me too," He giggle, and that sounds makes you turn in his direction, he's still looking at you. "really? but.. 're Spiderman."

You chuckles, as his hand moves really close to your thigh, just in case you move too close to the edge to fall. "and? and Spiderman can't like the city that he's from?"

"no I mean, you protect this city." His confused voice still running around your thoughts, "protecting the city, and liking the city, are two different things for me sweetheart." You nods lightly with a chuckle, 'cause you can feel the meaning. Is the same for you, you don't like the city but you're still here; for your mother, your grandma, and maybe you're starting to accept even the fact that you want to stay for Minho too.

"can I show you something?" Spiderman talks lightly, almost like a whisper that is really hard to hear, you turn your head to him and you nod lightly confused.

Suddenly you're in his arms. Swinging around the city. You scream as you hold yourself on his body, his arm is around your waist, "Oh my god!"

"you are a natural," Jisung chuckles when he swings between the skyscrapers, his strong arm holding your waist as you try not to scream every time his webs drop you dead weight among the city lights. "this is my favourite way to see the city."

Looking down to the streets, you feels your stomach drop, the beautiful scenario shows in front of your eyes. "oddio.. Oddio!" Every time you get flustered, or even scared, you talk in Italian for stressful moments. Jisung laugh loudly when he hears your really loud screams, "what was that angel?"

His talks are right against your ear, making you blush and feels butterflies all over your stomach, you should say something but in a couple seconds of silence he puts you down right in front of the little pizza place of your parents, you can feel that he really doesn't want to let you go and his arm slowly moves away form your wait. "well I, I should go."

"Spiderman I- can I ask you a favor?"

He stops before he could move or step away from you, his eyes are over you as you can see from the movements of the mask how happy he looks, "yes?"

Your eyes are filling with needs, you want revenge. "Can you, go over Deadpool? he did.. something to me and my family. we - I need revenge for that. I want him in jail."

TAGLIST -@binnies-binna @ihrtlix @yeahsspider @p0eticjust1c3 @manuosorioh @hanjsquokka @boi-bi-ahaha @im-sinking-in-mud @weareapackofstrays @dprkbyn @cupidcures @i2nsstuff @xtegannoelx @lyramundana @catiuskaa @kpopsstuffs @xxstrayland @tiapatito202278ok

[minhothebunny]

Detective Lee - Chapter Fifteen

THIRD POV.

Days passed since your little cuddle session with Felix. Keeping true to his words, he's been protecting you to the best of his abilities. He walks you to the café and back to your home, stays in the café with you throughout your entire shift, and closes up with you. Depending on the day and his availability, he'd even stay over or have you stay at his place.

To say he was scared for you was an understatement, but you were just as nervous. Even though he was doing this to protect you, you hated it. You hated it because you weren't worth all the effort and time he wasted. You didn't deserve all the care and love he showed you. You tried convincing Felix that things calmed down and everything was okay, but he persisted in continuing to help you.

You hate to admit that you might be pushing him away not only because of your disgusting self that didn't deserve such kindness, but because you were growing mild feelings for the boy, and it scared you. 'Scared you so much you subconsciously started avoiding him, making your interactions short and barely speaking to him. Felix was, of course, confused by the sudden change of heart in you. Not only was he confused, but he was also hurt, finding that his heart ached in a way he's never experienced before. Wanting to get rid of all his questions, he went to his best friend, seeking some advice.

He was at his friend's house, sitting on the kitchen bar where the other was making some ramen.

"I don't know, man... it's so confusing. How I feel, I mean."

"Well, how do you feel?"

"I... I want to be with her; to protect her. I like spending time with her and going out together. I want to feel her in my arms and cover her in kisses. When she compliments me or touches my freckles, it makes me want to hug her and shield her from the world. I want to do so much with her. I want to do everything with her. I want her."

His best friend turned around, making eye contact with Felix with a blank face. Thinking against bitchslapping his dumbass of a friend, he chose to speak instead.

"Dude... you're in love."

"What? No, I'm not. I just want her safe and happy and content and smiling and stress-free and-" Felix spluttered, slowly cutting himself off when he realized that his friend's words were true.

"Shit."

"Shit indeed. You, my friend, are in love with a woman that wants nothing to do with you."

"Hey! That's not true!"

"Really? Because from what you told me, she doesn't even look up at you, let alone talk to you."

"Well, fuck you," Felix muttered under his breath.

"I would, but you already have your eyes on some hetero bitch."

Rolling his eyes, Felix got up to give his friend, Jisung, a helping hand with the ramen.

"Mind you know, if it weren't for me, you would have never met Y/N."

Looking at Jisung incredulously, Felix was about to ask what the fuck kind of drugs the former was on, but Jisung beat him to it, explaining himself: "I'm the one that asked you to get me cheesecake and taro milk tea from the café."

"Oh, yeah, you did."

"Yes, I did. I'm also gonna be the one to get you to finally man up and start making a move. Or else I'm taking her from you."

Felix scoffed, "Please, with your gay ass?"

Nodding in agreement, Jisung countered back, "I may be gay, but you, sir, are bisexual. I can't take her, but I can definitely make you my bitch."

Felix widened his eyes, flustered by the vulgar language coming out of his seemingly innocent best friend. Jisung smirked seeing Felix's rosy cheeks: winking at him as he slapped his ass, walking into the living room with the hot ramen. (A/N: tbh I forgot about the ramen)

"Hey!"

"Get your flat ass in here if you wanna eat."

"It's not flat!" _______________________________ Y'all, help, autocorrect tried to change flat ass to fat ass plz💀 also! Guess who's back from the dead? Not me; I'm going back into my coffin after this. No, but, seriously, I feel bad for going away for so long. I wanna keep writing, but I can't bring myself to unless I have my materials out and open Tumblr on my laptop. I want to say I'll update frequently but no promises :c

What do you think so far? Also, Jisung is here now! New characters woopwoop🙌

I'd like to point out that this is a work of fiction. The characters' sexualities and actions are purely made up. I am not assuming anyone's sexuality: I am simply using it for the purpose of this book and its plot. Also, I realized that I forgot to mention: Y/N is a female character with she/her pronouns. I didn't realize that I was using she/her until now, so sorry!

My next book will have a gender-neutral character, I promise! For a sneak peek, the next book is called Mafia Brothers and is a Seo Changbin and Kim Seungmin ff (it'll have a Y/N character, as well). The book after that is a Binsung story that was requested by my good friend. I won't get into detail about it because it's two long stories away-

Please leave some feedback and opinions in the comments! Just don't forget to stay respectful of me and others :) like and share if you enjoyed this chapter!

Thank you so much for reading! -Nina <3

[skzpacks]

♥ lee know (stray kids)

[dramascoreanosar]

Reposted from @minozdee (@get_regrann) - The King Fan Art ❤️ #LeeMinHo #이민호 #TheKing #TheKingTheEternalMonarch #더킹영원의군주 #minoz #minozDee #minozworld #minozforever #alwaysminoz #minozindonesia #minozjapan #minoz_always_with_you_leeminho #leeminhominoz #iranianminoz #minozthai #leeminhoworld #actorleeminho #minholee #leeminhofans #alwayswithleeminho #theheirs https://www.instagram.com/p/B48xZH7g6En/?igshid=url4gqe4o3f0

[imaddictedtopendragon]

SKZ ff | The way I loved you | DAY6 | Vol. 1 (on Wattpad) https://www.wattpad.com/story/334344986-skz-ff-the-way-i-loved-you-day6-vol-1?utm_source=web&utm_medium=tumblr&utm_content=share_myworks&wp_uname=lagirls143&wp_originator=ucEpPHU74eBxnLLL778jX4Ox7EWyG6vEIejXZQJbIfURNQJ17Uvj53OiOknp8HSle5QWcRxdUtJP0Zy12LIMPmM%2BzQ1uULOZ%2FwKN3KS4LAa4i62CGsBAUQZecMTolBQn 

 The way I loved you is all about living in the present with feelings and thoughts of the past, not knowing they'll come back in the future. Agnes and Kimberlee live their lives as if they forgot their past, they share an apartment in Los Angeles, a nerdy friend, Jae, and (a few of) their secrets with each other. both not knowing that the guys they meet at the night bar will lead them right to the beginning, their first love, their first times, and their first secrets.

[pieng-pieng]

150702-03 Lee Minho in Thailand @ Suvarnabhumi Airport cr.logo 🍃 030715 Innisfree Festa Thailand 2015 🍃 @innisfreethailand . #InnisfreeFestaThailand #Innisfree #innisfreethailand #Boyoverflower #F4 #Junpyo #Personaltaste #Cityhunter #LeeYunsung #Choiyoung #Faith #TheHeirs #Kimtan #인증 #이민호 #李敏镐 #leeminho #LeeMinHo #ActorLeeMinHo #Minho #MinhoLee #Minoz #Supportleeminho

[leeminhoismyeverything]

cr: unknown [but thank u so fucking much]

[doramasmylife]

---↝The King - Eternal Monarch . . O Rei - Monarca Eterno Onde: Netflix, dramaFansub • — __ |🔍| Viu no explorar? ⌜Siga ↝ @doramaslove_my para mais Post's Como estes!! ༉‧₊˚↷个个 Marca as(os) amigas(os)╭☞ . . • ╰♡̸❜ 𝗣𝗮𝗿𝗰𝗲𝗿𝗶𝗮𝘀 ♡̸❜ ╯ • • ✿@seriesmaisdoramas ✿@mundodosdoramass ✿@universodorameiro_ ✿@doramaslove_my ✿@kcdramaworld ✿@eosdoramas ✿@leesuk_fan57 ✿@dorama_vida ✿@coreia_world ✿@reino_dorameiro ✿@doramaseosts ✿@mundinhoasiatico ✿@saranghae_dramas ✿@kpopeternalove ✿@letrasdemusicasdekpop ✿@doramas_e_minha_vida ✿@the_life_dorameira_ ✿@ko_dorameira ✿@sonhos.dorameiros ✿@mais_uma_dose9 ✿@dorameirailudida_ ✿@mundo_dorameiro7 : : #reieterno #이민호 #boysoverflowers #monarca #AlwaysWithLeeMinHo #李敏鎬 #LeeMinHo #ActorLeeMinHo #theking #minozworld #weloveyouleeminho #ThekingtheEternalmonarch #theheirs #legendofthebluesea #gangnamblues #minholee #lmh #koreanseries #doramaslove_my #allkdrama #푸른바다의전설 #lee_minho #minho #koreandrama #koreanactor #k_drama #leeminozactor#koreanactors #kdrama https://www.instagram.com/p/B_PJb9YJN0g/?igshid=5i3cpi83e6ff

[skzpacks]

guys what do you think? ::)

[dramascoreanosar]

Reposted from @mino.paradise_eun_ (@get_regrann) - 💟🍋🍋🍋🎵🎶 • Reposted from @real_kyungg (@get_regrann) - "이미호를 이길사람은_ 이민호밖에 없다고 한다!!!"❤❤ THE KING👑"The eternal monarch" Upcoming Drama.. (2020)📺 #thekingtheeternalmonarch @actorleeminho #leeminho #leeminho_이민호 #이민호 #pmz #AlwaysWithLeeMinHo #李敏鎬 #LeeMinHo #ActorLeeMinHo #MINOZ #MINOZWorld #weloveyouleeminho #ALWAYSMINOZ #MINOZ_always_with_you_leeminho #PROMIZ #we_will_wait_for_you #minholee #lmh #koreanseries #koreanstyle #allkdrama #푸른바다의전설 #lee_minho #minho #koreanactors #kdrama #더킹_영원의군주 #이곤황제_대박기원 @actorleeminho #MINOZ #이민호 #LEEMINHO https://www.instagram.com/p/B5TDNV8gozq/?igshid=jlgzlwt2zig1

[ruth9989]

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A post shared by 🗝Pukiss Shawol 🗝 (@im_little_freack_rkvh)

😍😍Cómo no amarlo? @actorleeminho 😍 . . . Reposted from @minho.saran 💋💋💋🎤🎧🎧🎤🎶🎶🎵🎵 repost: @cha_eunso . #minholee #minhoo #leeminhocomeback #actorleeminhoo #actorleeminho💖 #actorleeminhofan #actorleeminhoooooo #actorleeminho_ #minhosaranghae #loveleeminho #loveleeminho😘❤️ #loveleeminho😍😘 #leeminhoolover - #regrann https://www.instagram.com/p/CAaSi2YgEkD/?igshid=1divsiz5q8bfn

[pieng-pieng]

Regrann from @ps_minho - 030715 Innisfree Festa Thailand 2015 at Siam Kempinski Hotel 💜💖💕🍃 Please do not put your account name on my clip ⛔❤️ . .. #Boyoverflower #F4 #Junpyo #Personaltaste #Cityhunter #LeeYunsung #Choiyoung #Faith #TheHeirs #Kimtan #인증 #이민호 #李敏镐 #leeminho #LeeMinHo #ActorLeeMinHo #Minho #MinhoLee #Minoz #MinozThailand #Supportleeminho . .. ... 🌹 @mybeloveexo 🍃 - #regrann

[airenj25-93-blog]

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@Regrann from @wenroad622 - 20170718 Pyeong Chang 2018 Facebook Update - #이민호 #LeeMinHo #李敏鎬 #イミンホ #李敏镐 CUT "Here are the short inviting messages from #Taeyang, #YunaKim and #MinhoLee! #PyeongChang2018 #ambassadors👍" Full Video ➡️ https://www.facebook.com/PyeongChang2018/videos/10155465694883419/ - #regrann

[leeminhoismyeverything]

“I will always be in the same place, I promise you So you can lean on me and rest just like today. Always.”

[sleepontalentnomore]

Husband being artistic ‘n all