#Mark Fic

[savluvsmingi]

every chapter is such a push and pull and i am horrifically addicted to it. this is so INSANE. I LOVE IT SO MUCH😸😸😸

‘love me back’ — part 4

pairing — mark lee x reader

word count — 33.3k words 

genre — angst, smut, fluff, strangers to lovers, forbidden love

synopsis — a tense confrontation exposes your secret relationship with mark, sending ripples of tension through your lives. whispers spread quickly, straining your friendships and mark’s relationships with his friends. despite this, you and mark grow closer, your relationship deepening to more intimate levels. but one moment of misunderstanding—one miscommunication—is enough to make it all begin to unravel.

chapter contents/warnings — college au, small town vibes, 2000s teen show vibes, this fic is heavily based on one tree, explicit language, explicit sexual content, explicit themes, wall sex, rough sex, gripping, biting, and physically forceful actions public/party setting with a risk of being overheard or caught, y/n uses sex as a coping method, really soft sex, vanilla sex, emotional intimacy, soft giggles, soft breathing, hand holding, eye contact, confessions, intense party scenes, intense fights, y/n + mark go on campus together, they choose to go public, soft loving moments, mark takes y/n to river court, wholesome moments, tension between mark and his best friend, themes of guilt, betrayal, and emotional tensions, tense basketball practice as always

author note — thanks to my love @strcwberi for your endless help + ideas for this story !!!

[fic ml]

ONE | TWO | THREE | FOUR | FIVE

The pounding bass from the party music muffled the sounds of your heavy breathing and desperate moans as Mark held you firmly against the wall. His body pressed into yours, his cock driving deep inside you with unrelenting precision. Your back arched as you clawed at his shoulders, his hands gripping your hips tightly enough to bruise.

“Fuck, baby,” Mark groaned against your neck, his lips trailing open-mouthed kisses over your skin, biting and licking between gasps. His breath was hot, his words strained as he buried himself deeper. “You feel so fucking good. So tight for me.”

Your walls clenched around him, the sensation drawing a guttural moan from his throat that made your thighs tremble. You could barely think, your focus consumed by the way his cock stretched you perfectly, each thrust hitting that spot that made you cry out. The coolness of the wall contrasted with the heat radiating from your bodies, adding another layer of sensation to the raw, frantic pleasure coursing through you both.

Mark’s lips found yours, kissing you with a fiery intensity that left you breathless, his tongue sliding against yours as his hips snapped harder, faster. “Don’t stop,” you whimpered into his mouth, your voice trembling as you dug your nails into his back. The tension building inside you was overwhelming, and you could feel the knot in your stomach tightening with every powerful thrust.

But then, the sharp ping of your phone pierced through the haze of pleasure. For a fleeting moment, you ignored it, letting yourself get lost in the rhythm of Mark’s deep, relentless thrusts. His hand slid down to your ass, fingers digging into the soft flesh with a possessive grip that sent a jolt straight to your core. He groaned low against your ear as you ground back against him, meeting every thrust with a desperation that matched his own. The curve of your ass fit perfectly in his hand, his grip tightening as if he couldn’t get enough of you. His lips trailed from your mouth to your jawline, then back to your neck, leaving a path of open-mouthed kisses and bruising bites.

Another ping, and your eyes fluttered open. The sound pierced through the bubble of bliss you were in, dragging you back to reality. You tried to lean towards your bag on the floor, your hand outstretched, but Mark caught your wrist mid-reach, pinning it back against the wall.

“Don’t check it, baby,” he murmured, his lips brushing your ear before kissing you softly. “Stay with me. Let me make you feel good.” His voice was soothing, almost pleading, and for a moment, you let yourself give in, nodding as you wrapped your legs tighter around his waist.

His thrusts became deeper, slower, as if to recapture your full attention. You felt every inch of him filling you, dragging against your walls in a way that had your toes curling. Your hands slid into his hair, pulling him back to kiss you, desperate to drown out the distraction. His groans mixed with your soft cries, the friction between you both unbearably delicious as the pressure inside you built again.

But the phone kept going off. Ping after ping. Each sound sent a chill down your spine, your anxiety creeping in despite the heat of Mark’s body against yours. Something felt off—a gut feeling you couldn’t shake.

“Mark, wait,” you finally whispered, your voice shaky. You pushed lightly against his chest, trying to break free even as your body screamed at you to stay. His brows furrowed, his thrusts slowing but not stopping as he studied your face.

“What is it?” he asked softly, brushing a strand of hair from your face. His hands stayed firm on your hips, grounding you. “You’re shaking. Baby, talk to me.”

You hesitated, biting your lip, before motioning toward your bag. “I just… I need to check my phone. Something’s wrong.”

His jaw tensed as he exhaled heavily, stepping back just enough to let you slip down from the wall. You winced at the emptiness as he pulled out, your legs wobbling as you bent down to grab your phone. Mark’s hands were on your waist, steadying you, but you barely noticed as your eyes scanned the screen.

Your heart dropped as you saw the flood of notifications—messages, missed calls and alerts have piled up on your phone. A cold dread seeped into your chest, replacing the warmth you’d felt moments ago. You covered your mouth with trembling hands, your chest tightening as you took in the flood of messages from Karina. Each one was a brick in the wall of a panic building inside you.

Your breathing grew shallow, your heart hammering against your ribs. The reality of what you were reading seeped in slowly but painfully, like ice spreading through your veins. The room now felt suffocating. You couldn’t focus on him, couldn’t feel the way his soft lips caressed against your skin, his body pressed close to yours. All you could feel was the weight of the words on your screen.

“What’s wrong?” Mark’s voice was soft, his tone tender, but you couldn’t meet his eyes. He kissed your temple softly, his hands never leaving your body. His presence was steadying, but the panic bubbling in your chest was threatening to take over. “Talk to me.” He whispers, hands cupping your face, trying to ground you. 

You forced the words out, your voice breaking. “Karina—she… she’s flooded my phone with messages.” You swallowed hard, the lump in your throat making it difficult to breathe. “She told Jeno. She let it slip that we’re… that we’re exclusive.”

Mark froze, his jaw tightening slightly, but his concern stayed focused on you. “Jeno knows?”

You nodded frantically, the tears pooling in your eyes threatening to spill over. “He knows everything,” you whispered, your voice trembling.

Mark’s lips pressed together, but he didn’t look angry—just steady. His hands slid to your waist, holding you in place, his touch gentle but firm as if trying to anchor you. “Okay,” he murmured, his voice calm despite the storm brewing inside you. “It’s fine. I’ll handle it. Just stay here. I’ll go talk to him.”

“No,” you said quickly, grabbing his arm. Your eyes darted to the door, imagining the scene waiting just outside. Your panic spiked at the thought. “I should deal with this,” you whispered, leaning up to kiss him softly, your lips trembling against his. “I’ll come right back to you.”

Mark hesitated, his brow furrowing as he searched your face. “They’re all gonna be standing out there. I can’t let you deal with that by yourself, I won’t.”

His protectiveness made your heart ache, but you forced a small smile, pressing another soft kiss to his lips. “Please, Mark. For me.” Your voice was low, almost pleading, and you saw the way his resolve cracked—his weakness was always doing anything to make you happy, no matter the cost.

He exhaled heavily, his hands tightening briefly on your hips before letting go. “You’ll come back?” he asked, his voice quieter now, the worry etched clearly in his expression.

“I will,” you promised, your voice faltering as you stepped back.

The door clicks shut behind you, and the muffled bass of the party is almost drowned out by the blood pounding in your ears. The guilt weighed heavy on your shoulders as you stepped into the chaos. Each step felt like a betrayal—to Mark, to yourself, to the fragile world you’d both built in secret. Your chest tightened further, shame and anxiety warring within you as you braced yourself for the confrontation waiting just ahead.

Each step you take feels heavier, but you push forward, scanning the sea of blurred faces in search of Jeno. It doesn’t take long—he’s already heading toward the room you left, his broad shoulders cutting through the crowd, partygoers stumbling out of his way.

Jeno’s steps are purposeful, his jaw set and his fists clenched at his sides. His usually warm brown eyes are dark with rage and betrayal, his expression like a storm about to break. It feels like everything slows down when his gaze locks onto yours, confusion flickering across his features for just a moment before it hardens into something colder.

“Y/N,” he says, his voice unnervingly calm. Too calm. “We need to talk. Now.”

You swallow hard, your throat dry. Glancing briefly at Karina, who’s hovering nearby with a guilty expression, and Mark’s best friend, who looks like she’s bracing for a bomb to go off, you nod. “Okay,” you manage, your voice barely above a whisper.

You lead Jeno away from the chaos, down a quieter hallway, your heart pounding with every step. Karina follows for a moment, her steps hesitant, but you whirl around and glare at her. The anger in your eyes makes her freeze.

“What the hell, Karina?” you hiss, your voice low but venomous. 

“I didn’t mean to—” Karina starts, her voice desperate, trembling with guilt. She looks at you with wide, pleading eyes, her hands wringing nervously. “I swear, Y/N, it just slipped out. I didn’t think he’d—”

Her words falter as your gaze sharpens, cutting through her excuses. Without a word, you turn fully to Jeno, ignoring her completely. Karina clamps her mouth shut, realizing the futility of her pleas. Shoulders slumped, she walks away, her steps heavy with shame.

“I trusted you,” Jeno begins, his tone measured but heavy. “I told my dad he was lying. I defended you, Y/N. I believed you when you said nothing was going on with Mark.” His voice rises slightly, his composure cracking. “And now I find out you’ve been fucking him behind my back?”

Your face flushes hot with shame. “Jeno, it’s not like that—”

“Then explain it to me!” he snaps, stepping closer. “Make me understand why you lied to me. Why did you let me look like a fool for trusting you?”

You’re panicking, your mind racing for something, anything, that will diffuse the situation. The words spill out before you can think better of them. “It’s just sex, Jeno,” you say quickly. “It’s nothing serious.”

His eyes narrow, and for a moment, he just stares at you like he’s trying to figure out if you’re lying. “Just sex?” he repeats, his voice dripping with disbelief.

“Yes,” you say, nodding frantically, the lie tasting bitter on your tongue. “We’re not exclusive. Mark’s seeing other girls, and I’m—” You cut yourself off, realizing how ridiculous it sounds even as the words leave your mouth. “It’s casual,” you add weakly.

Jeno scoffs, his lips curling into a bitter smile. “Ahhh, makes sense then,” he says mockingly. “Because, you know, a lot of girls are talking about wanting to fuck Mark.”

Jeno steps closer, his presence looming as his eyes search your face. “So you’re sure it’s just sex?” he asks, his voice sharper this time, pressing you like a blade against the wall. “You’re not lying to me again?”

Your throat tightens, the weight of his stare unbearable. You can barely meet his eyes as you nod slowly, weakly, the lie slipping out before you can stop yourself. “Yeah,” you whisper, the word catching in your throat. “It’s just sex.”

Jeno’s jaw tightens as he exhales sharply through his nose, taking everything in, his frustration is barely contained. “You know what really gets to me?” he says, his voice cutting through the tense air. “It’s not even the fact that you’re with Mark. Hell, yeah, I’d be pissed if you told me it was serious, but this?” He shakes his head, his tone growing colder. “It’s the lying. Over and over again. Making me look like an idiot for trusting you, for defending you against my dad.”

The words hit you like a slap, sharp and unrelenting. You flinch, the guilt crashing over you in suffocating waves. Your chest tightens, and you open your mouth to respond, to say something, anything to fix this, but Jeno’s head shakes slowly, his calm veneer slipping. His jaw clenches, and his hands ball into fists at his sides, trembling with restrained fury.

Your lips part, but no words come. The weight of your guilt keeps your voice locked in your throat, and all you can do is stand there, frozen, as Jeno stares at you like he doesn’t even recognize the person in front of him anymore.

Without waiting for your response, he turns on his heel and stalks back toward the party, leaving you standing there, guilt and shame choking you like a noose. Your legs feel weak, and you lean against the wall, your head spinning.

The air feels heavy around you, suffocating, as if the weight of your lies to Jeno is pressing on your chest. You stay rooted in place for a moment, your thoughts spinning out of control. Regret mixes with guilt and a hollow ache, your mind replaying his words over and over.

Karina approaches you hesitantly, her hand reaching for your arm. Her face is soft with remorse, her lips parting to say something, but the moment her fingers brush against your skin, you shrug her off. “Just… don’t,” you whisper, your voice trembling with exhaustion. You don’t wait for her response. Whatever she has to say, it won’t make this any better.

You don’t look back. Instead, you turn and walk away, leaving Jeno behind in the shadows of the quieter corner you’d taken him to. Your chest tightens, your pace quickening as a single thought pulses through your mind: Mark. You need him—his comfort, his touch, the way he makes the world feel smaller, safer. Your guilt feels like a raging storm, and he’s the only calm within it.

As you weave through the crowd, your steps falter for a moment when you pass Karina again. She calls out your name, her voice pleading, but you don’t stop. You don’t even glance at her, keeping your gaze straight ahead. The music pounds in your ears, and the noise of the party blurs into a dull hum as your focus sharpens on one goal—getting back to Mark.

Your guilt gnaws at you, whispering that you don’t deserve his comfort. You told Jeno another lie. You left Karina without so much as an acknowledgement. Yet none of it matters when you think of Mark’s arms around you, his warmth, his reassurance. The idea of his touch ignites a desperate craving in you, a visceral need to feel grounded again.

You find him exactly where you left him, his back leaning against the wall. His dark eyes light up the moment he sees you, his brow furrowing slightly as he takes in your expression. He’s always been able to read you too well. Before you can say anything, he’s already moving toward you.

“Baby,” Mark murmurs, his voice soft and laced with concern. His hands find your waist, pulling you close. “What happened?”

You don’t answer, your throat tightening as the chaos in your mind roars louder. Instead, you bury your face in his chest, your arms wrapping tightly around him. His scent surrounds you—familiar and comforting—and you feel his hand move to the back of your head, his fingers threading gently through your hair.

“It’s okay,” he whispers, his lips brushing against your temple. “You’re okay. I’ve got you.”

His words are like a balm to your frayed nerves, and you let out a shaky exhale, leaning into him even more. His hand moves to your hair, his fingers threading through it gently as if he knows exactly what you need to calm down. He presses a tender kiss to your forehead, his touch light yet firm, anchoring you in a way nothing else can.

You don’t know how long you stand there, clinging to him like he’s the only thing keeping you afloat. The noise of the party fades into the background, the rest of the world ceasing to exist in the bubble of safety Mark creates around you. His hands never stop moving, never stop soothing, and you feel your heartbeat slowly returning to a steadier rhythm.

When he finally tilts your chin up to look at him, his dark eyes are filled with nothing but patience and understanding. “You don’t have to talk about it now,” he says softly, his thumb brushing against your cheek. “But whatever it is, we’ll figure it out together. I’m not going anywhere.”

You nod weakly, your throat still tight with emotion. He leans down and presses his lips to yours, the kiss soft and lingering. It’s not rushed or frantic, but slow and consuming, the kind of kiss that speaks of comfort and reassurance. When he pulls back, he rests his forehead against yours, his breath warm against your skin.

“I’m here,” he whispers again, his voice steady and unwavering. “Always.”

You don’t have the strength to say anything back, so you just hold him tighter, hoping he feels the gratitude and longing in the way you press yourself against him. For now, being in his arms is enough. For now, you can let him hold you together even as the storm continues to rage inside you.

After a long moment, you pull back slightly, your eyes darting away as you muster the words. “I managed to calm him down,” you say, your voice softer than you intended. “It should be okay now.”

Mark leans back slightly, searching your face for a beat. “He’s calm?” His tone carries a hint of disbelief. “Just like that?” 

You nod quickly, too quickly. “Yeah,” you reply, avoiding his gaze. “I told him it’s nothing to worry about, and he seemed… fine.”

Mark’s brows knit together as he tilts his head, studying you. “Nothing to worry about?” he echoes, the confusion evident in his voice. “That doesn’t sound like Jeno.”

You force a small smile, gripping his arm to redirect his attention. “It’s over now, Mark. Let’s not ruin the night talking about it anymore.”

Mark hesitates, the furrow in his brow deepening, but he eventually nods, brushing his thumb against your cheek. “Alright,” he says softly, though the faint edge of uncertainty lingers in his tone.

What he doesn’t know—and what you desperately try to suppress—is that you told Jeno it wasn’t serious with Mark. That it was just sex. That Mark was seeing other people, and so were you. The words had spilled out so quickly, a desperate attempt to deflect the weight of Jeno’s betrayal, to calm his anger, to keep the storm at bay just a little longer. But it was all a lie. A cruel, selfish lie that not only diminished what you and Mark had, but betrayed him in a way he’d never expect from you.

And now, standing here in Mark’s arms, the guilt gnaws at you relentlessly. It feels like a sharp claw digging into your chest, scraping against your ribs with every passing second. Your stomach twists painfully as the reality of what you’ve done presses down on you. You lied to Jeno to protect yourself, but in doing so, you betrayed Mark. And you didn’t stop there. You lied to him, too, letting him believe that everything with Jeno was resolved without telling him how you did it—or the price of that lie.

The guilt is suffocating, a heavy weight settling in your chest, stealing your breath. It clouds your thoughts, turns your skin cold, and makes your limbs feel heavy, as if you’re sinking into quicksand. The sting of your betrayal is sharp, because you know Mark would never do the same to you. He trusts you, and yet here you are, taking advantage of that trust.

You cling to him harder, burying your face in his shoulder as if that could shield you from the truth of your own actions. You try to focus on the way his arms feel around you, the warmth of his body, the steadiness of his heartbeat. But even that comfort is tainted, because you know he wouldn’t be holding you so tenderly if he knew what you’d done.

Mark whispers soothing words into your hair, his fingers threading through it gently, but they only make the guilt worse. The weight of the lie grows heavier, coiling tighter around your chest, a constant reminder of the storm you’ve set in motion.

What you don’t realize is that this fragile calm, built on the weight of your lies, is merely the prelude to a storm far greater than you can imagine.

The door clicks shut behind you as you step into the hallway, the noise of the party surges around you like a wave, jolting you back to reality. You move quickly, separating from Mark as agreed, your heart pounding—not from the music, but from the remnants of his touch and the lingering heat between your thighs.

The party is in full swing, the pounding bass reverberating through the walls, vibrating the floor beneath your heels. The air is thick with the heady mix of sweat, alcohol, and a haze of smoke curling lazily toward the ceiling. Laughter and chatter surround you, bodies swaying in rhythm with the music, but it all feels distant. Detached.

It becomes clear to you that word has been going around that you and Mark are seeing each other. A few people have already approached you, their faces curious and probing, asking pointed questions. You’ve muttered blunt and uninterested responses, trying to downplay the situation, but each interaction leaves your skin crawling and your mind racing. The tension between wanting to protect what you have with Mark and not wanting to be exposed weighs heavily with each passing second.

You keep your head down as you navigate through the crowd, the pulse of the music syncing with your own frantic heartbeat. Mark had disappeared into the opposite direction, as planned, and you could feel the phantom weight of his hands on your hips, his breath against your skin. It takes everything in you to keep your expression neutral, to blend into the partygoers lost in their own worlds, oblivious to the tension simmering just below the surface for you.

The room feels stifling, the lights dim and flickering, casting shadows that seem to dance with your anxiety. Your throat is dry, your hands clammy as snippets of conversation float past you. Names are exchanged in passing, jokes about who’s hooking up with whom, the usual party gossip that you’re suddenly terrified might include you and Mark.

You make your way toward the kitchen, hoping for a moment to compose yourself. The smell of spilled liquor and faint cigarette smoke assaults your senses, grounding you in the present, but it’s not enough to shake the gnawing feeling in your chest. Your mind replays images of him over and over again: his hands gripping your hips, the way his lips brushed against your neck, the sounds he drew from you. You shouldn’t feel this exposed, but you do.

Oblivious faces pass you by, and for a fleeting moment, you wonder if anyone suspects. If anyone knows. You glance over your shoulder instinctively, searching for him, but Mark’s nowhere to be seen—at least, not yet. You know he’s lingering nearby, waiting for the right moment to rejoin the chaos without drawing attention.

A hand brushes your arm, and you flinch slightly before realizing it’s just someone stumbling past with a drink in hand, laughing too loudly at a joke you didn’t hear. The world around you feels sharp and muted all at once, and the only thing grounding you is the faint memory of Mark’s whispered reassurances still echoing in your head.

It’s been two hours since you and Mark agreed to keep your distance, and somehow, you’ve managed to follow through. Barely. Your eyes keep darting around the room, searching for his figure even though you know you shouldn’t. The ache of missing him has settled low in your stomach, and the memory of his touch lingers like a phantom, teasing and relentless.

You glance around and notice people starting to head home. It’s late—really late. The crowd has thinned, and the air feels less suffocating. For the first time in what feels like hours, no one’s looking at you suspiciously, no whispered questions about you and Mark linger in the air. It feels safer, quieter. You let out a slow breath, thinking this might finally be the moment.

Grabbing your phone, your pulse quickens as you type out a message.

you — i need you. now. upstairs bathroom, second door on the left.

mark — fuck, baby, you sure you don’t wanna just go to my car? easier to get away with.

you — i promise we’ll be okay. jeno’s house is massive. no one goes to that side.

A soft smile tugs at your lips despite the nerves coursing through you. Your heart races at the thought of seeing him again. You glance around one last time, ensuring no one’s paying attention, before slipping through the crowd. The pull toward him is magnetic, impossible to resist.

Having been to Jeno’s house more times than you can count, you know the way by heart, even in the chaos of the sprawling mansion. The upstairs bathroom is tucked away in a quiet corner, and as you reach the door, your hands tremble slightly with anticipation. You slip inside, closing the door softly behind you, and wait. The minutes feel like hours, the quiet amplifying the heat bubbling under your skin.

When you finally see Mark’s figure rounding the corner, relief and excitement flood through you. It had taken him several minutes after you arrived, and you knew it was for the best—if anyone had seen the two of you slipping into the bathroom together, they’d immediately suspect the worst, and all eyes would’ve been on you. Without hesitation, you pull him by the arm into the bathroom, shutting the door firmly with a sharp click of the lock.

Before either of you can speak, your lips find each other, crashing together in a desperate, heated kiss. The door bangs shut behind you, but neither of you flinch, too consumed by the feverish need building between you. Your hands grip his shoulders as his arms snake around your waist, pulling you flush against him.

“Finally,” Mark mutters against your lips, his voice thick with impatience. His dark eyes lock onto yours, his fingers pressing firmly into your hips. “This place is like a fucking maze.”

You giggle softly against his lips, the sound muffled as his mouth moves with heated intent down your jawline, leaving a trail of scorching kisses that make your skin tingle. Your head tilts back instinctively, giving him more access as his hands slide up to cradle your face, his grip firm yet tender.

“You found me,” you whisper breathlessly, your voice catching as his teeth graze your skin, sending shivers down your spine.

“After getting lost a hundred times, yeah I did,” he teases, his voice low and playful, a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. The humor in his tone makes you giggle against his mouth, the sound melting into the space between you.

His hands roam over your body, gripping and pulling, and the frustration of those two hours apart is evident in every movement. “Missed you,” he murmurs against your skin, his voice low and rough as his teeth graze the sensitive spot beneath your ear. “Missed you so fucking much.”

You shiver at his words, barely able to respond before he turns you around, pressing your front against the cool bathroom sink. His hands slide up your thighs, gripping the hem of your skirt and yanking it up around your waist. “No more waiting,” he growls, pulling your panties aside. You feel the hard press of his cock against you, and your breath catches as he positions himself.

Mark pushes into you with one swift, fluid motion, and the stretch has your mouth falling open in a silent gasp. The thickness of him fills you completely, a delicious ache building as your walls tighten around him. His low, guttural moan vibrates against your ear, sending shivers down your spine. “Fuck,” he breathes, his voice rough and strained, as if holding himself back takes everything he has. The sound of your wetness is obscene, mingling with your shaky breaths and the quiet whimper that escapes your lips as he bottoms out, his hips pressed flush against yours. 

“You take me so well, baby,” he murmurs, his hands gripping your waist possessively, his thumbs digging into your skin. “So tight. So perfect for me.” Your legs tremble, a moan spilling from you despite your attempt to stay quiet, and his low chuckle vibrates against your neck. “Can’t stay quiet, can you?” he teases, pulling back slightly before driving into you again, the sharp slap of his hips making you cry out.

Mark’s hands grip your hips tightly, his nails digging into your skin as he thrusts into you from behind. Your palms press against the cold bathroom sink for support, your breaths coming out in broken gasps that barely keep up with the rhythm he’s setting. The music from the party pounds against the walls, but it does little to drown out the sound of your moans and the wet slap of his hips against you.

“Fuck, baby,” Mark growls, his voice thick with need as he leans over you, his chest pressing against your back. His lips find the curve of your neck, kissing and biting, muffling his own groans as he loses himself in the heat of you. “You feel so fucking good.”

Your response is nothing more than a whimper, your head dropping forward as he pushes into you deeper, harder. The angle sends a shockwave through your body, and your knees threaten to buckle, but his grip on you keeps you steady.

“God, you’re so loud,” he teases, his words ragged against your ear. “You’re gonna get us caught.”

You bite your lip, trying to stifle the next moan, but it’s futile. The desperation in his movements, the way he’s taking you like he can’t stand to be apart from you, pushes you to the brink. Your moans only grow louder, your body trembling as his pace becomes rougher, more frantic.

But outside the bathroom door, someone is listening.

Jeno leans casually against the wall, his arms crossed over his chest as he watched Mark slip inside the bathroom earlier. He saw Mark go in alone and he believes that it’s just another girl meeting him there. His lips curve into a smug grin, his chest puffing with misplaced pride at his brother's growing reputation.

Internally, Jeno marvels at how things have shifted. Damn, Mark’s really making a name for himself, he muses. Two different girls in one night? Impressive as hell. He’s smug, thinking about how Mark— his brother, is thriving, winning both on and off the court. He’s not sure when it happened, when Mark shifted from someone he hated to someone he genuinely cares about, but he doesn’t fight it. Their relationship has come a long way, and for once, Jeno feels content with where they stand.

“That guy can’t go ten minutes without pulling someone,” Jaemin chuckles nearby, elbowing Jeno. “Man’s got it good tonight. Two girls in one night.” Jaemin references you and the girl he believes to be in there, nobody knows it’s you. 

“Yeah, no kidding,” Jeno replies with a laugh, shaking his head as he waits, fully expecting to tease Mark once he comes out.

“Guess all the cheerleaders want a piece of him now, huh?” Soobin adds, grinning as the others laugh.

Jeno smirks to himself as he leans against the wall outside the bathroom, his knuckles rapping lightly on the door. He isn’t sure if he’s doing it to wind Mark up or because he’s debating barging in—maybe both. Chenle’s voice cuts through the moment, teasing and light. “Yo, Mark, you good in there? Taking your sweet time, man,” he calls out, his tone teasing.

Inside the bathroom, Mark stiffens slightly at the knock but doesn’t falter. He doesn’t know that it’s Jeno and the guys on the basketball team on the other side of the door. The chatter from the party outside create a blur of indistinct noise, masking voices. Mark assumes it’s just another drunk partygoer trying to get in, too caught up in you to give it a second thought.

You, lost in the haze of your own desperation and need, don’t even register the knock or Chenle’s voice. Mark’s cock stretches you perfectly, each thrust making your body arch into him. The tension in the air between you is intoxicating, leaving no room for outside distractions. Every ounce of your focus is on the way Mark fills you, his rough groans in your ear, and the way his hands grip your waist as if he can’t let go.

The knock on the door persists, louder and more impatient this time, cutting through the haze of the moment. Mark barely glances toward it, his focus unwavering. “One minute,” Mark shouts in response, his voice rough and breathless. His tone gives nothing away, but his movements don’t falter. He keeps going, his pace relentless, too caught up in the moment to care about anything outside this bathroom.

Jeno exchanges glances with the guys from the team lingering nearby, all of them snickering and making quiet remarks about Mark’s prowess. Jaemin mutters something about how Mark never misses, earning a laugh from the group. Jeno nods in agreement, his chest swelling with a strange pride. Brotherhood. The thought amuses him. They’ve come a long way, and moments like this feel like they’re finally on the same page.

But then the moans inside grow louder, more frequent, and something shifts in Jeno’s expression. His smirk fades slightly as a sense of unease creeps in. He leans closer to the door, straining to hear. Another moan echoes, higher-pitched, almost desperate—and far too familiar. Jeno’s jaw tightens. Is it you? The thought is maddening, the possibility clawing at him. He tries to brush it off, to convince himself it’s not you in there. But deep down, the sinking feeling grows, refusing to be ignored.

Jeno’s stomach tightens, his fists clenching instinctively. No way. It can’t be… He shakes the thought away, trying to convince himself it’s just another girl. Mark’s seeing other people, right? That’s what you told him. The logic steadies him, but not for long.

Jeno leans closer to the door, his breath catching as he tries to make sense of what he’s hearing. At first, it’s just muffled groans and the occasional moan, but then Mark’s voice cuts through, rough and possessive. “You’re all mine,” Mark growls, his tone dripping with intensity. “This pussy—fuck—it’s mine. Always so tight for me, baby.”

Jeno’s eyebrows furrow, his smug smirk faltering as confusion begins to creep in. He glances around at the other guys still joking nearby, their laughter and teasing comments fading into background noise. His focus is razor-sharp now, every nerve on edge.

Then, he hears it—your voice. Breathless and high-pitched, crying out, “Daddy!” The word pierces through the haze, and Jeno freezes. His heart pounds in his chest as his mind races. No. No fucking way. He doesn’t want to believe it, but the sound is unmistakable. He knows your voice, knows the way it pitches when you’re about to cum. 

Inside, Mark groans again, louder this time, and his next words are like a hammer blow. “You’re my girl… no one else gets to have you like this. No one else ever will. You’re mine, baby. All mine.”

That doesn’t sound fucking non-exclusive to me, Jeno thinks, disbelief twisting into anger as the words loop in his head, sharper and louder with each repetition. His fists clench at his sides, nails digging into his palms as he tries to process the weight of it all. You fucking lied to him. Again. The betrayal sits heavy in his chest, simmering and threatening to boil over.

Each possessive word Mark utters from behind the door chips away at his denial, solidifying the truth. Mark? With you? His thoughts spiral, flashing back to your earlier conversation—your insistence that you and Mark were seeing other people, that it wasn’t serious. The memory feels like a slap in the face now, the sting of your lie more painful than he’d expected.

He takes a step back from the door, his mind a whirlwind of confusion, rage, and betrayal. The way Mark spoke to you—raw, possessive, intimate—contradicted everything you had told him. The reality of it burns, each word replaying in his head as he struggles to make sense of how the two of you could have been hiding this all along.

You and Mark? The thought twists his stomach. How the hell did this happen?

The air in the bathroom is thick with heat and tension, every sound amplified by the closeness of your bodies. Mark’s hands grip your waist tightly, his fingertips pressing into your skin with a possessiveness that makes your breath hitch. His lips hover by your ear, brushing against it as he whispers, his voice a husky caress. “Mine,” he murmurs, the words dripping with a mix of tenderness and hunger. “Always mine.” He kisses the shell of your ear, his breath hot and tantalising as he coos softly, “You feel so good. You’re perfect for me.” Each word sends shivers down your spine, his touch and voice grounding you in the moment, making you forget everything but him.

Then the door bursts open.

It’s not until the booming voice of Jeno fills the space that the moment truly shatters. His voice is loud enough to rival the pounding bass of the party. “What the fuck is this?!”

The sound crashes through the room like a gunshot, so abrupt and jarring that you jump, your entire body tensing. Mark’s movements halt instantly, his breathing faltering against your neck as his grip on your waist tightens protectively. Both of you freeze, wide-eyed, as your heads whip toward the doorway.

Jeno stands there, his chest heaving, his fists clenched at his sides, and his face twisted in a fury so raw and unfamiliar it sends a chill down your spine. The weight of his presence is suffocating, the sheer intensity in his gaze cutting through the heat and leaving only cold dread in its wake.

The heat drains from your face as shame and panic take its place. You scramble to pull your skirt down, your hands trembling as you try to smooth yourself out. Mark steps in front of you instinctively, his body taut, his jaw clenched as his gaze locks with Jeno’s. His voice is firm but cautious. “Jeno—”

“Don’t,” Jeno snaps, his voice sharp enough to cut through the tension. His gaze burns into you now, cold and unforgiving, before flicking back to Mark. The silence that follows is suffocating, Jeno’s fists clenching so tightly his knuckles turn white.

“Jeno, just—please let me explain,” you begin, your voice shaky as you step forward, but he silences you with a look so chilling it makes you falter.

His voice drops, quiet but deadly. “You don’t need to explain. It’s all pretty fucking clear.”

You can see the realization sinking in for him, the pieces falling into place with a terrifying clarity. His nostrils flare sharply, his chest rising and falling in quick, uneven breaths as though he’s fighting to keep himself from exploding. His jaw clenches so tightly it looks like it might snap, and the veins in his neck strain against his skin. His fists are balled at his sides, knuckles white, trembling ever so slightly, and the sharp intensity in his gaze makes it hard to meet his eyes without a shiver of unease crawling down your spine. 

Its anger barely contained, simmering just below the surface, threatening to spill over at any second. When he finally speaks, his voice is rough, cutting like a knife. “You lied to me. Again and again. Do you even know how to tell the truth, Y/N?”

Tears prick at your eyes, but you force yourself to hold his gaze. “I didn’t mean to hurt you, Jeno. I was just trying to avoid—this. This exact situation.”

His laugh is bitter, sharp. “This exact situation? You mean me finding out you’re fucking my brother behind my back?” His gaze darts to Mark, then back to you, and it’s as if the realisation hits him again, harder this time. “You had every chance to be honest with me. I trusted you. I defended you to my dad—do you even get that? He told me this was happening, and I said he was lying. That you wouldn’t do this to me.”

You open your mouth, but no words come out. What could you possibly say?

Jeno shakes his head, his voice breaking slightly. “I’m just so confused about what I heard in here. You two didn’t exactly sound like you’re fucking other people or keeping it casual.”

Mark’s head snaps toward you at Jeno’s words, confusion flickering across his face before realisation sets in. That’s why you told him you managed to calm Jeno down—you lied to him about your exclusivity. His brows draw together, and a flash of hurt ghosts over his features, quickly replaced by a tense stillness. He doesn’t say anything, but the silence is deafening. The subtle clench of his jaw, the tightening of his shoulders, the way his eyes search yours for an explanation—all of it weighs heavy, making your stomach churn with guilt.

“It’s not what you think—” you start, but Jeno cuts you off with a harsh laugh.

“Not what I think?” he repeats, his voice rising. “Mark’s in there saying you’re his girl, acting like you’re his fucking everything. So tell me, Y/N, what the hell is it, then?”

Mark finally speaks, his tone low but steady. “Jeno, I don’t think this is the time—”

“No,” Jeno snaps, his gaze narrowing at his brother. “I think it’s exactly the time. Because she made me believe this was nothing. She made me believe you two were nothing.” He turns back to you, his anger giving way to something deeper—betrayal. “Was it easier for you? Lying to both of us? Was it easier to just pretend it didn’t mean anything?”

Mark looks at you then, his eyes softening despite the obvious hurt lingering there. He doesn’t say anything, but the weight of his stare makes your throat tighten. He knows you—knows why you lied, understands that your intentions weren’t malicious, that you were just trying to diffuse the situation. But that doesn’t make it hurt him any less. And that realisation is almost worse than Jeno’s anger.

The silence stretches, the tension crackling like a live wire between the three of you. You feel trapped, your chest heavy with guilt as you try to think of something—anything—to diffuse the situation again. But the truth is, there’s nothing left to say.

Jeno’s anger isn’t just about you and Mark—it’s a culmination of everything he’s been bottling up for weeks, months even. The weight of his father’s expectations, the constant pressure to excel in basketball, the results he’s supposed to deliver and the relentless scrutiny from Sunwoo and Eric. It all comes crashing down at this moment. 

But what makes it worse, what makes it personal, is that he chose to trust you over his dad. He defended you when Taeyong accused you and Mark of sneaking around, dismissing it as another instance of his father meddling in his life. And now, the realisation that his dad was right all along, that you let him down, feels like a betrayal he can’t ignore. It’s not just about Mark; it’s about the cracks in everything Jeno thought he could rely on, and right now, you’re at the centre of it.

Jeno rounds on you suddenly, his eyes blazing. “When did it start?” he demands, his voice low but sharp enough to cut. “Tell me, Y/N. When the fuck did you and Mark start seeing each other?”

You swallow hard, your throat dry, your heart racing. The words stick in your throat, guilt twisting in your chest like a knife. “The night we broke up,” you admit softly, your voice barely audible. The confession hangs in the air like a thunderclap, and Jeno cackles—cruel and sharp. The sound cuts through the tense air like a blade

“The same night we broke up? Is that when it happened? You hooked up with him that fast?” His words sting, each one designed to deepen the guilt that’s already suffocating you.

You lower your gaze, unable to meet his piercing eyes, your hands shaking as you clutch the hem of your skirt. The shame feels like a physical weight pressing down on you. “I didn’t mean—” you try, but the words feel hollow, insufficient.

“Didn’t mean what? To fuck my brother?” Jeno hisses, his tone sharp and laced with bitterness. “You really didn’t waste any time, did you?” He scoffs, his anger boiling over into something cruel. “What, are you just a slut now? Jumping from one brother to the next?”

The word lands like a slap, and your breath catches in your throat. He doesn’t mean it; you hope he doesn’t. But it still cuts deeper than anything else he’s said.

At first, Mark stays close, his jaw tight but his posture calm, watching the argument unfold without interfering. He doesn’t want to speak for you, respecting your ability to handle the situation, even though tension ripples through him with every sharp word from Jeno. But when Jeno’s anger boils over, his voice cutting harshly as he calls you a slut, Mark’s calm exterior cracks. He’s momentarily caught off-guard by the sheer intensity of Jeno’s words. His voice slices through the tension before you can respond. “Jeno, that’s enough.”

Jeno’s head snaps toward Mark, his glare darkening as if his anger has only grown. “You don’t get to tell me what’s enough,” he spits, his tone venomous. “This is between me and her.”

Mark doesn’t rise to the bait, his expression steady but firm. “You’re angry, and I get that. But don’t talk to her like that. You’ll regret it later,” he says, his voice measured but with a distinct edge of protectiveness.

Jeno scoffs, his fists clenching tighter. “Oh, I’ll regret it? How about you regret fucking my ex behind my back? How about that?” His voice rises, drawing more attention from the growing crowd.

Mark’s jaw tightens, and he steps forward, placing himself subtly between you and Jeno. “We’re happy, Jeno. And we’re serious about each other. We are exclusive,” he says firmly, his tone leaving no room for argument.

The declaration seems to be the breaking point for Jeno. His eyes darken, his anger bubbling over as he steps closer to Mark. “You’re proud of that, huh?” he growls, and before anyone can react, his fist flies forward, landing squarely on Mark’s jaw.

That’s when you notice a large group of people that’s formed around the three of you. A collective gasp ripples through the crowd. Some people shout, others pull out their phones, the scene unfolding like a movie in real time. You rush forward, your hands trembling as you reach for Mark, but he doesn’t budge. His jaw is tight, and he stares at Jeno with a calm intensity, even as a faint bruise begins to form on his cheek.

“Mark, please,” you whisper, trying to tug him away, but he shakes his head slightly, his eyes never leaving Jeno’s.

“I’m not going to fight you, Jeno,” Mark says evenly, his voice steady despite the tension in the air. “But you don’t get to call her names. You don’t get to treat her like this.”

Jeno glares at him, his chest heaving, his fists still clenched. “You think you’re better than me? You think you’re some fucking saint?” he sneers.

Mark steps closer, his voice lowering but losing none of its strength. “This isn’t about being better. It’s about respecting her. I get you’re angry but don’t take it out on her. Don’t make this worse than it already is.”

The confrontation is electric, the air charged with unresolved tension and emotions too volatile to name. Around you, people whisper and gawk, their eyes darting between Mark and Jeno, waiting to see who will make the next move. You can feel the weight of their stares, the judgement pressing down on you, but your focus is solely on the two men in front of you, both hurting in different ways because of you.

The tension in the room spikes as Jeno’s fist connects with Mark’s jaw again, the sickening thud drawing gasps from the crowd. Mark stumbles back slightly, his jaw tightening as he lifts a hand to wipe the corner of his mouth. He sighs deeply, his fists clenching at his sides as he straightened himself.

“Okay,” Mark starts, his voice steady but simmering with controlled anger. “Maybe I deserved that. I get why you’re mad.” He takes a deep breath, glancing at you briefly before his gaze sharpens on Jeno. “Actually, no. I didn’t deserve that.” His tone hardens. “You have no right to tell me who I can and can’t fall for. I don’t care if she’s your ex, and I don’t care if we got together the night you broke up with her, you were the one who left her all alone that night. Not me.” 

The room grows quieter, the weight of Mark’s words cutting through the murmurs. Jeno’s jaw clenches, his eyes narrowing dangerously, but Mark doesn’t back down.

“It’s not like your relationship was healthy,” Mark presses, his voice rising slightly. “So don’t call her a slut and act all surprised she moved on so fast. She deserved better. She deserves to be treated the way I treat her. Take notes, Jeno, because what we have? It’s real. It’s not just a fling.”

Jeno’s eyes darken, his hands balling into fists as the crowd watches in stunned silence. Your heart pounds, the suffocating weight of all the attention making your knees feel weak. All eyes are on you, the judgment and whispers carving into your skin like knives. You feel like you’re drowning, desperate to shift the focus elsewhere, anywhere but on you.

And then Jeno’s voice slices through the tension like a blade. “And I fucking felt guilty about seeing your best friend behind your back, while all this time you’ve been fucking my ex behind my back, keeping it a fucking secret.”

The silence that follows Jeno’s words is suffocating, a deafening kind of quiet where everyone holds their breath, waiting for the inevitable fallout. His eyes burn with anger, his chest heaving as if the weight of his confession is both a release and a punishment. You know why he says it—why he chooses this moment to lash out, even though it places him in the exact position as you, betraying those close to him and going behind their backs. It’s desperation, an attempt to justify his own actions by leveling the playing field. He’s cornered, humiliated, and furious, and this is his way of clawing back some semblance of control.

Your own reaction is quieter, more internal. You knew this moment would come, knew Mark would find out eventually, but the way it’s unfolding—so public, so raw—makes your chest tighten with guilt and fear. You can’t stop glancing at him, reading every twitch of his jaw, every flicker of emotion in his eyes. You want to speak, to explain, but the words catch in your throat. All you can do is stand there, rooted to the spot, as the crowd drinks in the drama unfolding before them.

The crowd’s reaction is a mix of shock and barely concealed excitement. Gasps ripple through the group, followed by low murmurs and exchanged glances. The buzz of whispers spreads like wildfire. It’s the kind of spectacle people live for, a front-row seat to chaos. Mark’s best friend, who had been hanging back, looks like she’s been slapped. Her face flushes red, a mix of anger and embarrassment flickering across her features. She’s trying to disappear into the background, but the weight of the accusation makes that impossible. She stares at Jeno, then at Mark, her mouth opening as if to say something, but no words come out. The betrayal she feels is written all over her face, her shoulders hunched as if shielding herself from the collective judgment of the crowd.

Mark’s reaction is what scares you the most. It’s immediate but layered. His brows knit together in confusion at first, processing the weight of Jeno’s words. Slowly, his expression shifts—his jaw tightening, the veins in his neck becoming more pronounced. His chest heaves, his mouth parts slightly, and for a terrifying moment, he’s silent. His eyes, usually warm and soft when they’re on you, turn dark and stormy as they flick to Jeno’s best friend, who stands frozen, guilt etched into her face. She mutters an apology, shaking her head frantically as if trying to plead with Mark to calm down.

You’ve seen Mark annoyed, even angry, but this feels different—deeper, colder. And you’re worried. Worried about what he’ll say, what he’ll do. You can see the gears turning in his mind, each revelation adding another layer of hurt and betrayal.

But it’s too late.

Without warning, Jeno’s fist flies again, landing hard against Mark’s cheek. This time, Mark doesn’t hesitate. He punches back, his fist slamming into Jeno’s jaw with a force that sends him stumbling. The crowd erupts in a mix of gasps and shouts, some people pulling out their phones again to record the chaos.

Mark steps back, his breathing ragged as he turns to you, his lip bleeding but his eyes softening momentarily as he reaches for your hand. But before he can pull you away, Jeno lunges at him, shoving him to the floor. The two of them crash to the ground, grappling and throwing punches with a rough, unrelenting intensity.

Mark grits his teeth as Jeno’s weight pins him momentarily to the ground. He throws a sharp elbow into Jeno’s side, using the momentum to shove him off, but Jeno retaliates quickly, swinging another punch that glances off Mark’s jaw. The sound of skin meeting skin is sickening, each hit fueled by frustration and betrayal. Mark counters with a rough shove, sending Jeno stumbling back, only for Jeno to lunge forward again, grabbing Mark by the collar and dragging him to his feet.

They’re both seething, their movements chaotic and unrelenting. Jeno lands a solid punch to Mark’s ribs, making him double over briefly, but Mark recovers fast, tackling Jeno into a nearby table. Glass shatters as cups and bottles spill onto the floor, and the crowd around them recoils, a mix of gasps and murmurs filling the room. Mark swings again, his fist connecting with Jeno’s shoulder, but Jeno grabs his wrist, twisting it away and shoving him back with enough force to send him skidding across the floor.

“Stop it!” you shout, your voice cracking as you step forward, but neither of them listens. Your heart clenches as you watch them fight, torn between defending your relationship with Mark and the remnants of your friendship with Jeno. Words fail you, the weight of the situation is too much to bear.

Jaemin and Chenle push through the crowd, their faces pale as they rush to break up the fight. “Enough!” Jaemin yells, grabbing Jeno by the shoulders and pulling him back, while Chenle grabs Mark and drags him to his feet. Both men are breathing heavily, their faces flushed with anger and bruises already beginning to form.

Mark’s eyes flick to you as you step forward, your hands trembling as you cup his face gently, your touch grounding him. “Let’s go,” you whisper, your voice steady despite the storm raging inside you. He nods, his jaw still tight as he takes your hand, ignoring the blood dripping from his split lip.

Together, you leave the party, the chaos fading behind you as you step into the cool night air. Mark’s grip on your hand is firm, protective, and you cling to him like he’s the only thing keeping you standing.

───────────────────────────────

The drive back to your apartment was suffocating in its silence, the hum of the car engine the only sound filling the space between you and Mark. Even as he parked, neither of you moved for a moment, both too caught up in the weight of the night. It wasn’t until he muttered a soft, “I’ll stay the night,” that you both finally stepped out, the tension following you like a shadow.

Inside, the low hum of candles flickered against the walls, their warm light casting soft, dancing shadows. The apartment felt quieter than usual, almost too still, the kind of silence that made every small sound feel amplified. Mark sat on the edge of your bed, his shirt discarded beside him, revealing the fresh bruises already forming on his torso. His lip was split, and a faint scrape ran along his cheekbone.

You moved toward him with the first aid kit, your chest tightening at the sight. You hated this—hated seeing him hurt, hated that it was always for you. Wordlessly, you dipped a cotton pad in wound alcohol, your hands trembling slightly as you knelt in front of him.

“I’m so sorry,” you whispered, your voice breaking the silence like a fragile thread snapping. “You’re always getting into fights for me, getting hurt because of me.”

Mark’s gaze softened, his eyes steady on you as you dabbed the alcohol-soaked pad gently against the cut on his cheek. He hissed at the sting, his jaw clenching, and you immediately pulled back.

“I’m sorry,” you said again, your voice quieter this time, guilt lacing every syllable.

Mark shook his head, offering you a small, reassuring smile even as his hands found their way to your waist, grounding you. “Don’t be,” he murmured, his voice steady despite the tension in the room. “I’ll always protect you. Always defend you. That’s not gonna change.”

His words should have been comforting, but instead, they felt like a dagger twisting in your chest. Every wince from him, every bruise you touched, felt like a punch to your gut, a reminder of the chaos you brought into his life.

How does he still look at you like that? you wonder, your eyes flickering to his face as his hands rest on your waist. Like you’re worth all this? After everything you’ve done—after lying to him, to Jeno, to yourself. You don’t deserve this.

“You’re too good to me,” you whispered, almost to yourself, as you moved to dab at the cut on his lip. He flinched, and your heart sank even further. “I hate seeing you hurt,” you admitted, barely holding back the tears threatening to spill. “I was so scared during the fight. Watching you get hit—it…”

Mark’s thumb brushes gently over your neck, grounding you in the moment. He leans in closer, pressing a soft kiss to your temple, his lips lingering before he whispers, “Hey.” His voice is tender, steady, pulling you from the spiral of your thoughts. “I’m fine,” he murmurs softly, the reassurance in his tone making your breath hitch and your chest tighten with emotion.

Time stretched on after that. The room was quiet again, but this time, the silence felt heavier. Awkward. It never felt like this between you two. Even in your worst moments, Mark always managed to make you feel like everything would be okay. But now, the charged atmosphere pressed down on both of you, suffocating and unrelenting.

The revelation at the party hangs in the air like a storm cloud, filling the silence between you and Mark with unspoken tension. Of course, the campus now knowing about you two explains part of it, but deep down, you know this runs deeper. This tension isn’t just external—it’s something personal between the two of you.

You sit on the edge of your bed, fiddling with your hands as he leans against the wall, his arms crossed and his expression unreadable. The low hum of a candle flickers on your nightstand, casting faint shadows across his face. You finally muster the courage to ask what’s been clawing at your chest since he brought you home.

“Mark,” you whisper, your voice trailing off so softly he almost doesn’t catch it. “Are you angry at me?”

He looks up, his expression flickering with something you can’t quite place. Then, he chuckles—a quiet sound that wasn’t meant to make you feel small, but it does. “I’m not angry,” he says, though his tone holds a subtle edge. “I just don’t understand why you lied to Jeno and said we weren’t exclusive.”

Your bottom lip trembles as you scramble to explain, unease clawing at your throat. “I only said that because I thought it would make him less suspicious of us. I didn’t want any drama or arguing, but I know I made things worse. I shouldn’t have lied.” A tear slides down your cheek, and you quickly brush it away, ashamed of your own actions.

He’s quicker, though, his thumb gently wiping the tear from your cheek. “I know why you lied,” he says, his voice softer now, though there’s still tension beneath it. “I just wish you’d thought about it first. Being exclusive with you means a lot to me, so it stings that you didn’t admit that to Jeno. I understand why you didn’t, but I’m still allowed to be hurt and confused by it.”

Your throat tightens, the weight of his words settling over you. “Being exclusive with you means a lot to me too,” you say, your voice cracking with sincerity.

Mark studies you for a long moment, his jaw tightening and loosening as if warring with his emotions. He looks somewhere between understanding and actually annoyed, a thin line that feels far too precarious.

“If you didn’t want to tell him we’re exclusive,” he says finally, his voice calm but pointed, “what does that mean for us? Is it because you didn’t want him to know we’re serious and risk his reaction? Or…” His gaze locks with yours, something vulnerable flickering in his eyes. “Do you not take being exclusive with me seriously?”

Your heart sinks, and the tears come faster now, the floodgates bursting. “I was scared, okay?” you admit, your voice cracking under the weight of your emotions. “Scared of what Jeno would do, scared of losing you if things got worse. I panicked, and now I’ve made everything worse.”

Mark steps closer, his hands finding your waist as he kneels in front of you. “Hey,” he murmurs, his voice gentler now, though there’s still a lingering hurt in his tone. “You didn’t lose me, okay? But you’ve got to stop letting fear make your choices for you. We’ll get through this, but only if we’re honest—with each other and with everyone else.”

You nod through your tears, leaning into his touch as the weight of the night finally catches up to you both. The tension doesn’t dissolve completely, but for now, his steady presence keeps you grounded.

Mark sighs, pulling you down with him onto your bed, his arm wrapping firmly around your waist as he tugs you under the covers. The weight of his gaze feels almost overwhelming, his eyes locking with yours in a way that makes your knees weak even as you lie beside him. There’s something so intense yet comforting about the way he looks at you—like he’s memorizing every detail of your face, like he’s anchoring himself in you despite everything that’s happened tonight.

The silence between you stretches, thick and heavy, until you break it by tracing the sharp line of his jaw with your fingertips. Your touch is light, almost tentative, as you follow the curve of his cheekbone, brushing your thumb softly over the corner of his lips. A faint smile tugs at his mouth as he catches your hand, holding it in his gently. “You’re just gonna stare at my lips?” he teases, his voice low but warm.

A quiet laugh escapes you, and you feel some of the tension ease. “They’re nice to stare at,” you murmur, your voice shy but honest.

His smirk deepens, but his expression softens as he shifts slightly, moving on top of you. The weight of him presses you into the mattress, and you gulp, your arms instinctively circling his back to pull him closer. Your eyes flicker to his lips again, the longing to kiss him tugging at you, but hesitation holds you back. Does he even want that right now?

Before you can overthink it, he leans down, cutting off your thoughts with the press of his lips to yours. The kiss starts soft, tentative, but it quickly deepens, turning feverish and consuming. His lips move against yours with a quiet desperation, and soft sighs and steady breaths fill the space between you, every second pulling you further into him.

When you finally pull back, your voice is soft and a little breathless as you whisper, “You’re still kissing me?”

He tilts his head slightly, his brow furrowing as if the question confuses him. “Why would I not?” His voice is steady, his words making your heart ache in the best way.

You lean up to kiss him again, melting into his lips. This time, when he pulls back, it’s his turn to speak. “I guess I’d be more annoyed if you lied about knowing about Jeno and my best friend and tried to act like you never knew,” he says after a moment of thought, his voice low but sincere.

A soft hum escapes you as you nestle closer to him. “I’m glad I didn’t go with that decision”

He huffs lightly, his lips twitching into a faint smirk. “Were you gonna?”

You shake your head, your fingers slipping into his hair, playing with the soft strands. “No. I don’t want to lie to you. I don’t want any tension between us. You’re too important to me now, and I can’t lose you—not after I’ve let you see so much of me.”

His lips brush against you forehead, the kiss featherlight but full of meaning. “You’re not gonna lose me,” he murmurs, his voice low but steady. “You’re the most important person to me right now too.” His brow furrows slightly, and he sighs. “I’m still mad at you, though. And I don’t know how the fuck we’re gonna face Jeno after today. But it’s okay. We’ll do it together, hm?”

You nod weakly, your chest tightening at his words. He presses one last kiss to your lips before leaning back slightly. “Go to sleep, baby. We’ve got a big day ahead of us.” Without another word, you nestle into his arms, your head resting against his chest as his steady heartbeat lulls you to sleep.

───────────────────────────────

You groan as you reach for your alarm clock, shutting off the incessant beeping. Rolling over, you bury yourself deeper into Mark’s chest, his warmth enveloping you like a shield from the world outside. His scent—a mix of his cologne and the faint remnants of your body wash—grounds you, soothing your frayed nerves. “I don’t wanna go to campus today,” you mumble against his bare skin, your voice muffled and tinged with reluctance.

Mark’s hand moves up your back slowly, his touch light but firm, tracing lazy patterns with his fingertips. “Why not?” he asks, his voice still rough from sleep, the vibrations of his words rumbling softly against your cheek.

You let out a sigh, your shoulders sagging. “Everyone’s been messaging me. Everyone’s gonna stare at us,” you admit, anxiety coiling tightly in your stomach. The thought of all those eyes, the whispers, the judgment—it’s too much.

Mark tilts your chin up gently, his gaze steady and unwavering as his thumb brushes over your jaw. “We haven’t done anything wrong,” he says softly, his words a quiet reassurance. Leaning down, he presses a tender kiss to your temple, lingering there as if willing some of his calm to transfer to you. The kiss is light but deliberate, and the way his lips linger makes your chest ache in a way you can’t quite describe.

You stay in bed for a while longer, his arms wrapped securely around you as you steal soft kisses and exchange quiet murmurs. His lips graze over your hairline, the corner of your mouth, trailing along your neck as if grounding you with his presence. But eventually, the real world pulls you from the cocoon of his embrace, and you force yourselves to get up.

As you make your way to the kitchen, the two of you laugh softly at some half-forgotten joke, his hand brushing against yours as you walk. But the second you step inside, the warmth between you evaporates. Karina is standing by the counter, her posture stiff, her guilty expression painfully obvious as she busies herself setting out three plates of breakfast. The smell of toast and coffee fills the air, but it feels suffocating, too heavy for the sudden tension thickening the room. Mark’s hand instinctively brushes against your lower back, steadying you as your eyes lock on her. The air feels charged, fragile, like the slightest word could shatter the silence.

You stop in your tracks, your laughter fading. Rolling your eyes, you move to turn back toward your room, but Mark’s hand gently wraps around your wrist, stopping you. “Don’t,” he says softly, his voice barely above a whisper. His eyes search yours, calm and reassuring. “You should talk to her.”

“I don’t want to,” you reply, crossing your arms defensively, your jaw tightening. “I don’t see the point.”

Mark’s grip on your wrist loosens, but his gaze doesn’t waver. “Do it for me?” he murmurs, his tone warm but tinged with quiet insistence.

You huff, your resistance faltering under his steady gaze. “Fine,” you mutter, your voice laced with reluctance. “I’m doing this for you. Only you.”

Karina’s gaze flickers up as you and Mark step into the kitchen, her shoulders tensing the moment her eyes meet his. Her hands, which had been idly tracing the rim of her glass, freeze mid-motion. The silence is thick, her expression unreadable at first, but her gaze lingers just a second too long on the way Mark’s hand rests lightly against your lower back. Her jaw tightens almost imperceptibly, her lips pressing into a thin line.

She looks away quickly, but not before you catch the flicker of unease in her eyes, the tell-tale flush that creeps up her neck and into her cheeks. Her fingers resume their fidgeting, now twisting the hem of her oversized sweatshirt, pulling at the fabric like she can’t keep still.

“Hey,” she says finally, her voice soft but strained, her words barely audible over the quiet tension filling the room. She doesn’t look at you again, her eyes fixed on a spot on the counter as if avoiding your gaze will somehow make the moment pass faster.

Mark murmurs a casual greeting, but you don’t say anything, your eyes narrowing as you watch her shift nervously from one foot to the other. Her entire body language screams discomfort—her shoulders hunched slightly, her weight shifting as though she wants to leave but doesn’t know how to. When she finally glances up again, her gaze flickers briefly to yours, then darts away, her lips parting like she wants to say something but can’t quite get the words out.

The knot of frustration in your chest twists tighter. You’ve caught this before— a mix of something unspoken, something that feels uncomfortably close to jealousy and longing. It’s subtle, but it’s there, thick in the air, her expression tightening every time she sees you with him. You’ve never brought it up, always brushing it off as your own overthinking, but now, standing in this tense, charged silence, your resolve crumbles.

Karina clears her throat, the sound too loud in the silence. Her hands move to tuck a stray piece of hair behind her ear, but the motion is jerky, almost frantic. When she speaks again, her voice is uneven, like she’s forcing herself to sound normal. “So, um, how did you sleep?” The question is directed at both of you, but she doesn’t wait for an answer, her hand reaching for the glass in front of her. She grips it too tightly, her knuckles whitening, and takes a long sip, her gaze fixed anywhere but on you and Mark.

“So…. I’ll be in your room if you need me.” With that, he grabs the coffee Karina had poured and takes a bite of the toast she made, muttering a quick “Thanks” before leaving the kitchen.

Her stare lingers on Mark as he brushes his hand against your lower back as he leaves, the small touch protective and intimate, and it feels like that stare sears into your skin. The knot of frustration in your chest tightens, twisting painfully, and you can’t keep it in any longer.

“Why do you always look at us like that?” you ask suddenly, your voice sharper than you intended as you take a step forward.

Karina’s head snaps up, her brows furrowing. “Like what?” she asks defensively, though her voice wavers slightly.

“Like you hate seeing us together,” you bite out, the frustration spilling over, your emotions pushing past your usual restraint. “Like you don’t want me to be happy.”

Your voice trembles slightly, and the vulnerability in your own words makes your chest ache. Karina’s lips part like she wants to respond, but the guilt written across her face is undeniable. Her eyes dart away, and she fidgets with the hem of her shirt, avoiding the weight of your gaze. The room feels suffocating, the fragile thread of your friendship fraying with every second of silence.

Karina struggles to meet your eyes, her guilt evident in every nervous shift of her body. Her gaze darts to the floor, her lips pressed into a tight line as if holding back an apology she can’t quite voice. Her fingers fidget with the hem of her shirt, twisting and untwisting it—a tell she’s never been able to suppress. When she finally speaks, her voice is quieter, almost pleading. “I didn’t mean for it to happen, okay?”

You folded your arms across your chest, leaning forward slightly, the weight of her excuses pressing harder against your already strained patience. “Then why did you do it?” you asked, your voice sharp enough to cut. “Why would you go behind my back and tell Jeno of all people?”

Karina’s mouth opened and closed like she was searching for a response that wouldn’t make things worse, but her silence only made your anger simmer closer to the surface. “I thought…” she started, then faltered, biting her lip. “I thought it was the right thing to do. I thought if he—”

“You thought what?” you snapped, your voice rising as you took a step closer. “That it wasn’t messy enough? That maybe you should blow it all up for good measure?”

Her head jerked up, her brows furrowing, but the guilt in her eyes was unmistakable. “No! I swear I didn’t mean—”

“You knew exactly what you were doing, Rina. And honestly, I wouldn’t be surprised if you did it because you don’t want us to be together. What’s next? Are you going to admit you have feelings for Mark?”

That accusation landed like a blow. Karina froze, her eyes widening briefly before narrowing in anger. “You’re unbelievable,” she said quietly, her voice trembling with restrained frustration. “Why the hell do you think everything is about you? You’re more delusional than I thought.”

The words hit harder than you expected, like a slap across your face, leaving your chest tight and your throat dry. For a moment, you couldn’t speak, the weight of her anger settling heavily in the space between you.

But Karina wasn’t done. She stepped forward, her own voice sharper now, edged with something colder than you’d ever heard from her. “You think I want your man? That’s what you’ve convinced yourself of? You’re so wrapped up in your own mess you can’t see past your perfect little bubble. Not everything revolves around you, Y/N.”

Your pulse pounded in your ears, her words cutting through your anger and hitting something deeper, something raw. “You’re twisting this around,” you said, but your voice cracked, the weight of her accusations settling over your chest.

“Oh, am I?” she shot back, her words quick and scathing now. “You’re the one sneaking around with Mark. You lied to Jeno. You’ve been lying to yourself, to everyone, and you somehow expect me to clean it all up for you. Like I always do.”

Your voice rises, refusing to back down. “I’ve seen it—the way you look at Mark. It’s like you’re waiting for something to fall apart, like you don’t want us to work.”

Karina’s flush deepens, but instead of denying it outright, her frustration explodes. “You don’t get it,” she snaps, her voice trembling with emotion. “Everything just works out for you. You get Mark, you had Jeno’s trust, and even when you screw up, people bend over backward to forgive you. Do you have any idea what it’s like to watch you get everything while I’m left dealing with the fallout?”

Your pulse pounds in your ears, and anger flares in your chest. “Why now, Karina? Why does this matter so much to you?”

She exhales sharply, her tone cold. “Because you’ve dragged me into this, made it my problem. And maybe if you’d been more careful, Jeno wouldn’t have found out.”

The argument had reached its boiling point, voices echoing in the kitchen like thunder. Karina’s face was flushed with anger, her arms crossed defensively, while your own hands trembled at your sides. You shouted, your voice cracking with the strain. “You think I wanted this? You think I asked for all of this chaos?” Your breath hitched, emotions boiling over as you tried to steady yourself against the counter. “You’re just mad because for once, I have something good, and you can’t stand it.”

Karina’s laugh was bitter, hollow. “Good? You call lying to Jeno and dragging Mark into your mess ‘good’? Maybe Mark deserves to know just how selfish you really are. Or better yet—maybe he already knows.” Her words hit you like a slap, and before you could even think of a response, she stormed out, leaving you standing there, reeling. The finality of her words left a jagged silence in the air, and you felt your knees weaken as you crumpled to the floor, your breath hitching into sobs.

You didn’t know how long you sat there, curled into yourself in the corner of the room, the tiles cold against your legs. The sound of your phone vibrating against the counter barely registered, and when it stopped, you heard Mark’s voice calling your name. His footsteps grew louder, quicker, until he rounded the corner and found you there.

“Hey, hey,” he murmured, his voice soft but laced with urgency as he dropped to his knees in front of you. His hands cupped your face, thumbs brushing away the tears streaming down your cheeks. “Baby, I’m here,” he whispered, leaning in to press a tender kiss to your forehead. 

Your shoulders shook as you broke down, burying your face into his chest. His arms wrapped tightly around you, grounding you in his warmth as his fingers threaded through your hair. “Let it out, baby,” he murmured against the crown of your head, his lips brushing your skin with every word. “I’ve got you.”

His voice was steady, his presence a solid anchor against the storm swirling inside you. His hands moved to your back, firm and reassuring, drawing soft circles as he let you cry into him. The weight of Karina’s words, the fight, everything—it all spilled out in heaving sobs that left you trembling in his hold.

When the tears finally slowed, Mark didn’t rush you. He stayed quiet, his hand moving to cradle the back of your neck as he tilted your head to meet his gaze. His eyes were warm, deep with understanding, and when he leaned in to kiss your tear-streaked cheek, you felt a sliver of calm settle in your chest. “Whenever you’re ready,” he whispered, his lips brushing your temple. “I’m not going anywhere.”

You nodded weakly, your fingers clutching at the fabric of his shirt as you tried to steady your breathing. “I’m sorry,” you choked out, your voice barely audible.

“Don’t,” he said softly, shaking his head as he pulled you even closer. “You don’t have to apologize. I’ve got you, okay? We’ll get through this —”

Mark didn’t even get the chance to finish his sentence before your lips crashed against his, cutting him off. It wasn’t soft, nor sweet—it was desperate, rough, and full of fire. Your teeth scraped against his bottom lip, your tongue forcing its way past his, and the kiss was messy, all-consuming. You straddled him in an instant, your nails digging into his scalp as you tugged his hair with a force that made him hiss against your lips. The sting didn’t stop him—it spurred him on. His groan was guttural, his hands locking onto your hips as you ground against him without hesitation.

“Slow down, baby,” he rasped, his voice thick with arousal, though there wasn’t a hint of true resistance in his tone. His grip tightened on your hips, trying to steady your relentless movements, but you didn’t stop. If anything, you pushed harder, grinding down until the hard length of him pressed perfectly against you through the thin layers separating your bodies.

You didn’t care about the consequences or about taking your time. All you wanted was to drown in the heat of him, to feel him in a way that would push out every other thought. Mark groaned again, his hips jerking up to meet yours. “Fuck,” he muttered, his head falling back as your lips left his to kiss along his jaw, then down to his neck. Your teeth scraped against his skin before you sucked hard, marking him, branding him as yours. The sharp gasp that escaped his throat sent another surge of heat rushing through your veins.

His cock strained against the confines of his sweats, and you made quick work of sliding your hands beneath the waistband. He was hot, hard, and heavy in your grip, and the way he hissed when your fingers wrapped around him was enough to make your thighs clench. Without a word, he stood, gripping your ass tightly as he carried you upstairs, your legs wrapping around his waist. Your lips never left his as he moved with practiced ease, making it to the bed without hesitation.

Mark barely had time to drop you onto the mattress before you were on him again, pushing him back until he fell onto the bed. You straddled him, your movements fueled by nothing but lust and frustration. With a sharp tug, you yanked his sweats down just enough to free him, your eyes darkening at the sight of him fully exposed and aching for you. The need in your chest was unbearable as you sank down onto him in one swift motion, your slick heat enveloping him completely.

“Fuck, Y/N,” he groaned, his voice wrecked as his hands gripped your thighs tightly, his blunt nails digging into your skin. The stretch of him was intense, almost too much, but you didn’t slow down. You rode him with a rough, desperate rhythm, your hips slamming down against his with each movement. The wet, obscene sounds of your bodies echoed through the room, mixing with your sharp breaths and his guttural groans.

“You’re so fucking tight,” Mark growled, his hands sliding to your ass, guiding your movements as he thrust up to meet you. The force of his hips made you gasp, your nails raking down his chest as you leaned forward, capturing his lips again in another bruising kiss.

He tried to slow you down, murmuring your name as if to coax you into easing up, but you shook your head, your expression hard. “Don’t,” you bit out, your voice laced with irritation as you moved faster, taking what you needed. “Don’t try to fix this. Just—just let me.”

Mark’s jaw clenched, the muscles tightening as he realized what you were doing. His hands gripped your hips hard enough to leave marks, and for a moment, he let you take control, let you use him. But when you leaned down, your lips brushing against his ear, and whispered, “Maybe I should ask for someone else’s help,” the tension in his body snapped.

“Maybe Jeno’s.”

Mark’s reaction was instant, a low, feral growl rumbling in his chest that sent a shiver down your spine. Before you could even process it, he flipped you onto your back with an almost primal force. His hands captured your wrists, pinning them above your head and the hard length of his cock grinds into you through the thin barrier of fabric. The dominance in his gaze was undeniable, his eyes blazing with frustration and unrestrained desire, the intensity making your breath hitch.

His lips curled into a dark chuckle, his voice dripping with mockery. “Is that so?” he murmured, his tone equal parts teasing and dangerous. “But that’s too bad, baby. Jeno probably can’t handle how needy you are all the time. Or maybe…” His lips brushed against your ear, his breath hot as he whispered, “…I’ve just let you push me around for too long.”

Your pulse raced as his words settled over you, the heat in his tone both thrilling and unnerving. You met his gaze, defiance flickering in your eyes as you pushed back, testing the edge he was toeing. “And what if I did ask for his help?” you murmured, your voice trembling but bold. “What would you do?”

The air between you turned electric, the sharp press of his cock grinding against your soaked core making your breath catch. His hips rolled with deliberate force, the friction igniting every nerve as your thighs tightened instinctively around his waist. The sharp edge of his teeth grazed your jawline, a low, guttural growl rumbling from his chest. “You really want to test me like that?” he bit out, his voice a dangerous whisper, his hands gripping your hips to keep you pinned beneath him. The rigid heat of him pressed harder, dragging against your clit in a way that made your body writhe against him, desperate for more. “Go on,” he growled, leaning in so his breath fanned hot against your ear, his hips bucking just enough to make you gasp. “Ask for Jeno’s help. I dare you.”

Your teeth grazed his neck, sinking in just enough to leave a mark, and the way he tensed beneath you made your stomach flip. “You’re mine,” you whispered, your voice trembling with equal parts desperation and resolve. The possessiveness in your tone lit a spark in his eyes, and the dark, primal hunger that flickered there sent heat coursing through your veins. His body pressed harder against yours, his cock throbbing against your core, and the sharp inhale he took was pure, raw desire.

His hands gripped your waist firmly, pulling you flush against him as if he couldn’t stand even the slightest distance between you. Before he could speak, you clung to him, your nails raking down his back as you gasped, “But you won’t leave me, right?” Your voice cracked, frantic and pleading, every word a desperate attempt to anchor yourself. “You said—we’d figure it out together. Please, Mark. Don’t go. Please.” The urgency in your tone sent a jolt through him, his lips parting as his breath grew heavier. Without hesitation, he crashed his mouth into yours, the kiss consuming and feral, his hands roaming your body like he was trying to memorize every curve, every shiver, every moan.

The bed groaned under the force, matching the rhythm of his hips, and his grip on your wrists remained firm, holding you exactly where he wanted you. Yet, despite the commanding edge, there was something sweet in the way his thumbs brushed your skin, his mouth trailing soft kisses along your jawline between gasps. His every move was possessive but laced with care, making you feel claimed and cherished all at once as he drove you closer to the edge, whispering, “Mine too.”

“Look at me,” he demanded, his voice softer but no less authoritative. His eyes locked onto yours, and the intensity of his gaze made your chest tighten, the vulnerability of being so exposed under his stare sending a thrill through your body. “I want to see you, baby. Every part of you.”

You couldn’t look away, even as the overwhelming pleasure built to a breaking point. His thrusts grew deeper, rougher, his cock hitting the perfect spot inside you with every movement. Your hands slid up to cradle his face, your voice trembling with affection as you whispered, “You’re so good to me, Mark. So perfect.” Your legs wrapped tightly around his waist, pulling him closer as if you couldn’t bear to let him go. “I love how you make me feel,” you murmured against his lips, your words punctuated by soft moans, each one driving him to thrust into you with even more intensity.

Suddenly, Mark’s hips moved slower, deliberate in their pace, drawing a frustrated groan from you. Your nails scraped lightly against his shoulders, trying to spur him on. “Why are you going so slow?” you demanded, your voice laced with irritation as you attempted to grind harder against him.

His thrusts didn’t falter, staying maddeningly unhurried as his gaze locked on yours. “You feel so tense, baby,” he whispered, his voice soft but steady, a stark contrast to the heat between you. His hands moved to your waist, thumbs rubbing soothing circles against your skin. “Tell me what’s going on.”

You shook your head, avoiding his eyes, your lips parting to deflect. “Mark—just—don’t.”

But Mark wasn’t letting it go. He stopped completely, his length still buried inside you, his forehead resting gently against yours. “I’m not going any faster until you tell me why that talk with Karina has you so upset,” he murmured, his tone calm but firm. “I need you to trust me, baby. Let me in.”

The ultimatum hung heavy in the air. You clenched your jaw, your body trembling slightly from the emotions bubbling up, but you stayed quiet, your eyes darting away. Mark’s thumb brushed your cheek, coaxing you to look at him.

“Okay, baby,” he continued, his voice softening further, “I’ll fuck you. But we’re not going to do that thing where we don’t communicate. I want to know you. Your feelings, your emotions, what’s on your mind. I want you to talk to me.”

His words caught you off guard, and your breath hitched, the frustration in your chest threatening to spill over. You hesitated, your lips pressing together as you tried to avoid the way his gaze seemed to strip you bare.

Finally, the tension broke, and your voice came out trembling, thick with the weight of everything you’d been holding in. “Our talk went nowhere,” you admitted softly, the words stumbling out like they couldn’t wait any longer. “The party, when she told Jeno about us, was my last straw. I don’t care if she made a mistake.” Your breath hitched as the memories replayed, her words cutting deeper than you wanted to admit.

“It’s been building for weeks, and then today, we just—screamed at each other. She said things—things I can’t get out of my head.” Your throat tightened, and you forced yourself to keep going. “She said I don’t deserve you. That you’ll figure out how selfish and what a liar I am—or that you already know. That you’ll leave me.” Each word hung in the air like a wound, the hurt laced with an underlying fear that maybe, just maybe, Karina had a point.

As the first tear slipped down your cheek, Mark leaned forward, kissing it away with a tenderness that made your chest tighten. His lips brushed against your temple, lingering there as his hand moved to cradle the back of your neck. “I’m sorry you’re carrying all that, baby,” he whispered, his voice warm and soft. “But you know that’s not true, right? You deserve everything. You deserve me. All of me. I wouldn’t ever leave you”

The dam broke, and a sob escaped your lips. Mark pulled you closer, letting you bury your face in his neck as the tears came. His hands stroked soothing patterns along your back, his presence steady and unwavering. “It’s okay,” he murmured, kissing the side of your head. “I’m here. Just let it out.”

As the tears spilled down your cheeks, Mark’s embrace tightened around you, providing a refuge from the storm of your emotions. He gently cradled your head against his chest, his heartbeat steady beneath your ear. His hands roamed your back in slow, comforting strokes, each touch a silent reassurance of his unwavering support. “You don’t need to do anything to make me stay,” he whispered, his lips pressing a tender kiss to your hair. “I’m here, no matter what, through every high and every low. Just be here with me too, that’s all I need.” His voice was a calm anchor in the tumult of your feelings, reminding you that his commitment wouldn’t be tied to moments of happiness or intimacy alone, but was a constant, steadfast presence in your life.

You nodded, your voice still trembling. “I’m sorry. I just—I didn’t know how to tell you.”

Mark’s thumb brushed against the back of your hand, his touch grounding and steady. “Hey,” he started softly, his voice low and calm. “I’m not saying what she said was okay—because it wasn’t. But maybe try to see where Karina’s coming from. She’s probably feeling overwhelmed, maybe even cornered, and people say stupid, hurtful things when they’re angry. That doesn’t mean she meant all of it.” He paused, his gaze locked on yours, making sure his words didn’t come across as dismissive. “I’m not defending her actions, baby. I’m just saying… try not to let it eat you up. She’s been your friend for a long time, and I don’t think she really believes those things about you.”

He shifted closer, cupping your face with both hands as his thumbs brushed the tears lingering on your cheeks. “You don’t have to fix this right now. Let time heal everything, yeah? Give her space, give yourself space, and let things cool down.” His forehead pressed gently to yours, his lips ghosting over your skin in a comforting gesture. 

You let out a shaky breath, Mark’s steady voice and grounding touch doing their job to ease the storm inside you. His words didn’t erase the pain Karina had caused, but they softened it, giving it a shape you could begin to understand. “You’re right,” you murmured, your voice small but earnest. “I know you’re right, but it’s so hard not to take it personally. Especially when she said those things about me not deserving you. It just—it really got to me.”

Your tears came harder, your sobs shaking your body as the weight of everything seemed impossible to hold in any longer. Mark stayed silent, holding you tightly, his presence grounding you as he pressed soft, reassuring kisses to your damp cheeks. His hands moved gently along your back, tracing calming patterns that made your breathing hitch but also steadied you. He didn’t say anything—he didn’t need to. His touch, the way he kissed you softly, conveyed everything he wanted you to feel: that you weren’t alone, that he was here for you.

When he moved inside of you, it was slow and deliberate, his body leaning into yours with quiet intention. His hips rolled softly against you, deliberate but unhurried, each movement meant to comfort rather than overwhelm. His forehead rested against yours, his lips brushing tender kisses over your cheeks, your temple, your lips. “I want to make you feel good, baby,” he whispered, his voice low and soothing, a promise that carried more than just words. “I want you to know how much you mean to me.” 

Each thrust was unhurried but deliberate, his hands guiding your body as he moved inside you. He wasn’t just fucking you—he was holding you, grounding you, reminding you of everything he was for you. You wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling him impossibly closer, letting yourself melt into the safety of his embrace.

As your cries softened into quiet gasps, he held you closer, his body a steady anchor against the storm inside you. The lewd, wet sounds of your connection filled the air, mingling with your breathless whimpers. His lips brushed over your ear, his voice rough yet tender. His strokes became slower, deeper, coaxing your body to relax completely against him. His name fell from your lips in broken whispers as his pace evened out, each thrust rocking you gently back into his arms.

Finally, when the exhaustion overtook you, Mark’s movements grew softer, coaxing you to the edge of sleep. He stayed buried inside you, his hands stroking your back, his lips pressing one last kiss to your forehead. “I’ve got you,” he whispered again, his voice a low hum that matched the soothing rhythm of his body. You mumbled his name in a half-asleep murmur, feeling the comforting weight of his body against yours.

“Baby, can you promise me something?” Mark murmured, his voice low and filled with earnest warmth as he held you closer, his steady presence enveloping you in comfort. His eyes locked onto yours, soft yet intent. “Can we always make sure to be honest and communicate with each other, no matter what?”

A wave of vulnerability washed over you at his words. A silent fear crept in, rooted in the complexity of your own thoughts—deep, sometimes dark, and intricate. You worried silently that the full extent of your inner turmoil might be too much for him, that the raw, unfiltered parts of your mind could push him away. 

Mark noticed the slight tension in your expression and reassured you with a tender, affirming tone. “You don’t need to ever hide anything from me, you know I’ll always prioritize and understand you, right? You won’t scare me away; you won’t ever do anything to make me leave,” he whispered, his words wrapping around you like a warm embrace.

Nodding. “I promise, baby.” You extended your pinky finger towards him, a small but significant gesture. He linked his pinky with yours, sealing the promise. As your fingers intertwined, Mark leaned in to kiss you softly, then playfully added, “You know, pinky promises are legally binding, right? You can’t break it now.” His light-hearted tease drew a soft smile from you despite the lingering tension from earlier.

Holding his hand, you kissed it gently, reaffirming your connection. Mark then pulled you into his arms, creating a safe haven as you nestled against him. You kept your hands interlocked, a silent testament to your need for his presence, your fingers tightly clasped as you drifted towards sleep.

As your breathing evened out, his warmth surrounded you, pulling you into a dreamless, comforting sleep. Mark stayed with you and inside of you, his hold never wavering, ensuring that even in your most vulnerable state, you felt completely and utterly safe. 

───────────────────────────────

The morning light filtered softly through the windows, casting a golden glow over your room as you stood in front of the mirror, adjusting the hem of your mini skirt. The fabric skimmed your thighs, perfectly accentuating your curves. Paired with a fitted tank top that clung to your figure and your favorite boots that added just the right edge, the outfit made you feel bold—confident in a way you hadn’t felt in days. It wasn’t your usual choice for college, but today wasn’t a usual day. You needed a distraction, for yourself and for everyone else.

“Is your plan to dress slutty to make people distracted so they don’t ask you about us?”

The deep, teasing drawl of Mark’s voice pulled you from your thoughts. You turned, meeting his gaze as he leaned casually against the doorway. His smirk was lazy, but his eyes gave him away—dark, intent, and utterly fixated on you. His breath hitched almost imperceptibly as his gaze roamed over you, taking in every detail of your outfit with an intensity that sent a ripple of heat through your body.

“You like it?” you asked, your tone light but knowing.

Mark’s presence was a steady warmth as he comes behind you, grounding you in the moment. His fingers clasped the delicate necklace around your neck, the chain cold against your skin as he leaned down to press a kiss to the top of your head. You leaned back into him, letting his arms circle your waist briefly.

“I don’t know how I’m supposed to keep my hands off you today,” he murmured, his lips brushing the shell of your ear. His voice was low, sultry, and sent a shiver down your spine. His hands slipped under the hem of your mini skirt, the rough pads of his fingers gripping the curve of your ass possessively.

“Should I just take it off then?” you teased, a playful smile tugging at your lips.

His grip tightened slightly, his voice deepening as he responded, “Yes, please.” The way his hands lingered made your knees weak.

“—And change into something else?” you finished, tilting your head to look at him. His lips quivered into a knowing smirk, but the tension was momentarily broken. He let his head rest on your shoulder. Unable to resist, you turned your face toward his, brushing your lips against his in a tender kiss. The contact started soft but quickly deepened, a spark igniting as his mouth moved against yours with deliberate pressure. His hand came up to cradle the back of your head, fingers threading through your hair as he tilted your face to his liking, the kiss growing hungrier, more intimate. You sighed into him, your lips parting to welcome the heat of his tongue. The exchange left you breathless and for a moment, everything felt simple again.

But simplicity wasn’t the reality.

“Let’s go now, you ready?” His voice was gentle, but the weight of his question wasn’t lost on you. Today was the first day back on campus since everything had changed—since everyone knew. Your relationship with Mark wasn’t a secret anymore, and the fallout had left your closest relationships in shambles.

You nodded, the tightness in your chest making it hard to find your voice. Although you looked calm, the emotions beneath the surface churned like an unrelenting storm threatening to break free. As Mark opened the door and you stepped out, the reality of facing campus settled in. By the time you reached the college after a short car ride, the sight of the familiar buildings had your stomach twisting in knots. You gripped the edge of your bag, your fingers trembling slightly. You felt like throwing up.

Mark’s arm slid around your waist, his touch firm yet soothing as he pulled you into his side. His body pressed against yours, his warmth acting as a buffer against the rising tide of your nerves. Leaning against the car, he cupped your face with both hands, tilting your chin so you had no choice but to meet his eyes. There was that look in them—one that made you feel like the rest of the world could fade away if you stayed close enough to him.

“Will you be okay if I hold your hand? Kiss you?” His voice was soft, his tone layered with concern.

You hesitated, glancing down at your intertwined hands. “Everyone already knows, Mark. What’s the point of hiding now?” Your sigh carried a note of resignation, your gaze flickering to the groups of students scattered across the campus, their eyes already beginning to wander in your direction.

Mark’s thumbs caressed your cheeks softly, his touch as reassuring as his words. “Are you sure? If you’re not ready for this, we can wait.” His voice was so tender it made your chest ache. “You’re all that matters to me. Not them. I just want you to be comfortable. I don’t care what anyone thinks as long as you’re okay.”

His sincerity pulled at the tight strings of your heart, and you nodded, touched by how deeply he cared. “I’m sure, baby. Yeah… okay. Let’s stop hiding.”

He smiled softly before leaning in, pressing a kiss to your lips. It wasn’t rushed or fleeting—it was a promise, one that calmed the chaos within you for just a moment. “Just squeeze my hand if you feel like it’s too much, yeah?”

Stepping onto campus hand in hand, the sun bathed everything in a golden glow, soft and warm against your skin. It should have felt like a fresh start, but instead, the whispers and pointed glances started almost immediately. Mark, ever aware of your unease, kissed your temple in passing and whispered, “You’re doing amazing. Just focus on me, okay?”

Still, the weight of the stares and hushed conversations started to press down on you. Your breathing quickened, your chest tightening as anxiety curled around you like a vice. You squeezed his hand tightly, your grip almost desperate. Mark immediately noticed, gently removing his hand to assess you, his brows furrowing with concern.

He guided you into the quiet corner he’d found, his hands steady on your shoulders, grounding you as the hum of campus life faded into the background. You could still feel the lingering stares, the weight of whispers clinging to your skin. The tension was suffocating, and your voice came out barely above a whisper, wavering with unease. “Mark,” you murmured, unable to stop your gaze from darting nervously around. “Everyone’s looking. Everyone’s whispering. It’s like they’re just waiting for us to fall apart.”

Mark’s expression softened, his brows furrowing as he gently turned you to face him fully. His hands slid from your shoulders to your waist, his touch firm yet comforting as he leaned in closer. “No one is waiting for anything,” he said softly, his voice steady but laced with determination. “People will talk, but that’s all it is—talk. It doesn’t matter what they think. No one’s looking at us like that. Everyone’s too wrapped up in their own lives. This will all pass, I promise. You just have to breathe through it. I’ve got you, alright?”

His words, so intimate and full of care, managed to pull you out of the spiral, and for the first time, you let yourself believe him. “Okay,” you whispered, the tension easing slightly.

When you returned to the open campus, you felt lighter, his hand back in yours. But the need for closeness overwhelmed you again, and without thinking, you squeezed his hand. Mark, misunderstanding, pulled his hand away again, only for you to grab it right back, intertwining your fingers tightly and leaning into him.

You laughed softly at his confused expression, pressing a kiss to his cheek. “Not letting go this time,” you murmured, and Mark chuckled, his smile warm as he pulled you even closer.

Your gaze swept across the courtyard, heart pounding as you took in the scattered students milling about, laughing, talking, entirely caught up in their own worlds. For a moment, the anxiety threatening to consume you ebbed, replaced by a quiet realization—none of them mattered. Just like they were in their own world, you had yours. And your world, right now, was Mark.

With a steadying breath, you moved your hand from his and slid it around his shoulders, pulling him closer. Before he could question it, you leaned in and kissed him, hard and purposeful. The action was unplanned, raw, but it felt right. The connection between you sparked like a live wire, and for a heartbeat, Mark froze, startled by your boldness.

Then, just as quickly, he melted into you, his hands gripping your waist as he kissed you back with just as much intensity. His lips pressed against yours, eager yet tender, and his breath hitched as if he couldn’t quite keep up with the rush of emotion. The world around you blurred, students and whispers fading into nothing as he pulled you even closer, his grip firm but protective. It was just the two of you now, fully and unequivocally together—no hiding, no hesitation. You were his, and he was yours, for everyone to see.

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The late afternoon sun filtered through the gymnasium’s high windows, its golden glow casting long shadows across the bleachers. You sat with Winter, your cheer practice bag tossed carelessly at your feet. The buzz of practice filled the air—shoes squeaking on polished floors, low chatter, the occasional barked command from Coach Suh—but your focus was split. Winter’s sharp voice had dragged you out of your daydreams, and now you found yourself regretting it.

“So, I heard you and Mark started groping each other on campus,” she said, a smug tone coloring her words.

Your face flushed at her phrasing, irritation bubbling up immediately. “All we did was kiss,” you muttered, your voice clipped. You weren’t one for public displays of affection beyond holding hands or a casual kiss. Mark respected that, never pushing the boundaries, and you appreciated it. You weren’t sure why Winter made it sound so scandalous, but her tone had you instantly defensive.

“How’s it going?” she pressed, her curiosity too pointed, her gaze too observant.

“Good,” you replied curtly, hoping your brevity would end the conversation. It didn’t.

“Is he your boyfriend yet?” she asked, her tone lilting with feigned innocence.

You exhaled sharply, biting back the words you wanted to say: You know, it’s really none of your fucking business. Before you could give her a polite response, she barreled on. “You know, you should be the one to ask him to make it official,” she suggested, a sly smile tugging at her lips.

You stared at her blankly, unsure where this was going. She continued, “I mean, isn’t he always the one doing all the ‘firsts’? I heard he initiated your first time, plans all your dates, decided when you’d be exclusive… Maybe you should surprise him for once.”

Her words stuck, even as you bristled at the assumption. Winter wasn’t a mean girl, but her observations often felt more invasive than helpful, leaving you feeling exposed. Whether she meant it or not, her comment hit a nerve. It planted a seed of doubt you hadn’t realized was there. Had Mark been carrying the weight of your relationship all along? Did he ever feel tired of being the one to make things happen? What if he got sick of trying?

Your thoughts spiraled further when you wondered how Winter even knew so much. The answer was obvious: Karina. You had confided in her about so much—your highs and lows, your doubts and hopes—and now it seemed she had shared those details with others. The idea stung, a sharp pang of betrayal that simmered quietly under your skin.

Your gaze drifted toward the court, where the guys were joking and laughing between drills. Mark was talking with Jaemin, his grin wide and carefree, and for a moment, your heart softened. But then Coach Suh’s voice cut through the air like a whistle.

“Lee,” he barked. Both Jeno and Mark turned to him, but the coach clarified with a nod towards Mark. “You’re excused from practice today. You can go.”

Your brows furrowed as you watched Mark grab his bag and leave the court without much fanfare. Before you could process what had just happened, Karina’s voice broke through your thoughts. It was soft and measured, her tone at odds with the tension lingering between you.

“Y/N, you can go too,” she said. “Catch up at the next practice.”

You didn’t question it, grabbing your bag and heading out without a backward glance. Whether Karina did it out of spite or indifference, you didn’t care. Cheerleading was the last thing you wanted to deal with right now.

As you wandered the empty corridors, your phone buzzed in your pocket. You pulled it out and saw a message from Mark.

mark — come meet me by my car.

Curiosity piqued, you made your way outside. The parking lot was nearly empty except for his familiar figure leaning casually against the hood of his car. His arms were crossed, but his smile softened the stance as you approached.

“Hi,” you greeted softly, giving him a quick kiss.

“Why aren’t you in practice?” you asked, narrowing your eyes at him.

“I asked Karina to work something out so we could both get out of practice and classes for the day,” he said with a small smile.

You felt a pang of irritation at her involvement, but you forced it down and smiled back. “And she managed to pull that off?”

He chuckled. “She can pull off anything, apparently.”

You wiggled your eyebrows playfully, trying to lighten the unease inside of you. “So, what’s the plan? You wanna take me home?”

He shook his head, his smile turning softer. “Not quite. I wanna take you somewhere. Come on.” He opened the passenger door, pressing a kiss to your temple as he gestured for you to get in.

You slid into the seat, your curiosity growing. Wherever he was taking you, you could tell it was more than just a simple getaway. And for now, you let yourself trust him, letting the tension of the day slowly melt away.

As the car slowed to a stop, it didn’t take long for you to realize where Mark had brought you. The river court came into view, the familiar chain-link fence surrounding the cracked pavement and faded lines. Basketballs echoed against the asphalt, accompanied by the faint sounds of laughter and chatter that carried on the breeze.

Mark reached over, his fingers intertwining with yours as you stepped out of the car together. “Come on,” he said, his voice soft but encouraging. As you walked toward the court, he gave your hand a gentle squeeze, sensing the hesitation in your step.

When the sounds of his friends’ voices grew clearer, you turned to him with wide eyes. “Who’s here?” you asked, your tone both surprised and slightly nervous.

Mark’s smile was calm, reassuring. “I wanna introduce you to all of my friends,” he said, his expression warm as he glanced down at you.

You nodded, but your heart raced. Even though you’d been here once before with Mark, this felt entirely different. This wasn’t just the two of you stealing a quiet moment together—this was stepping into a world that meant so much to him, meeting the people who had shaped and supported him long before you were in the picture. The weight of the moment settled over you as the court came fully into view, the sacred space alive with movement and laughter.

Mark stopped, his eyes scanning your face. “You sure you’re okay with meeting them?” he asked, his protective tone laced with care. “If it feels like too much, we can leave.”

You took a deep breath, the tension in your chest easing as you met his gaze. His concern was so genuine it made your heart ache. Smiling softly, you squeezed his hand back. “I’m okay, I promise. I want to be here.”

His lips twitched into a satisfied smile, and he leaned down to press a quick, tender kiss to your temple. “Alright,” he murmured, his voice low and warm. He led you forward, his hand never leaving yours, the small gesture grounding you as the court bustled with life.

The moment you stepped into their line of sight, all eyes turned to you. There was a beat of silence before Donghyuck’s smirk broke the stillness. “Well, well,” he drawled, raising his camera to get a shot of the two of you. “Lee’s finally brought a girl to the court. Everyone act normal, don’t scare her off.”

Chenle elbowed Renjun, his voice far from subtle. “She must be a saint to put up with him.”

Wooyoung’s laugh rang out, light and teasing. “Or maybe Mark finally got his shit together.”

You couldn’t help the mix of nerves and amusement bubbling inside you. Their jokes felt lighthearted, but you still clung to Mark’s presence beside you like a lifeline. Sensing your unease, his hand slipped to the small of your back, a soft but steadying touch. “Ignore them,” he murmured, his voice just for you as he guided you toward the bench. “They’re idiots, but they’re my idiots.”

You smiled despite yourself, leaning into him just slightly as he led you into his world, his fingers never letting go of yours.

The sun dipped lower in the sky as the game kicked off, painting the river court in golden hues. You perched on the bench between Donghyuck and Chenle, your laughter blending with the rhythm of basketballs hitting the pavement. Donghyuck leaned forward, his hands mimicking a microphone as he began his dramatic commentary.

“Ladies and gentlemen, welcome to the legendary river court showdown! Lee Mark with the ball, ready to either prove he’s a legend or will he trip over his own feet?”

You giggled, nudging Chenle. “Does he always do this?”

Chenle smirked, his gaze fond as he watched his friends on the court. “Always. He started narrating games when we were kids. Now he’s official at the matches, but this place is where it all began. It’s where we all started—me, Mark, Hyuck… this court made us who we are.”

You glanced around, taking in the faded lines and worn pavement. This wasn’t just a court; it was a piece of history, etched with memories. The warmth of their bond enveloped you, a reminder of how special it was to be here, to be a part of this world.

Your eyes caught Mark’s from across the court, and everything else seemed to fade for a moment. The way his gaze softened at the sight of you made your chest ache, your grin widening on instinct. Without thinking, you raised your hand in a small wave before blowing him a playful kiss. He froze mid-dribble, his hands faltering just enough for Wooyoung to swoop in, snagging the ball and making an effortless shot.

Donghyuck’s voice rose, gleeful. “And look at that! Lee Mark pauses mid-dribble to make heart eyes at his girl. Focus, Lee, focus!”

Mark’s jaw tightened as he glared at Donghyuck, but the edges of his lips betrayed him, curling into an irrepressible grin. His eyes flicked back to yours, and you could see the amusement—and something deeper—shining in them. It made your cheeks warm under the attention.

Chenle leaned in beside you, his smirk both knowing and mischievous. “So,” he drawled, voice low enough for only you to hear, “you’ve officially broken Mark’s streak of never bringing a girl here.”

Your soft laugh slipped out before you could stop it, tinged with the heat of your flushed cheeks. “I guess I have,” you murmured, the words carrying a quiet pride you hadn’t realised you felt.

Donghyuck, ever the instigator, caught the tail end of your exchange and immediately chimed in. “Breaking records and breaking hearts! But real talk —” His voice took on a conspiratorial tone as he leaned toward you, eyes glinting with playful curiosity. “Is she his girlfriend? The people need answers!”

Mark groaned, rubbing the back of his neck, his face tinged with embarrassment. “Can you not?”

Chenle pressed, leaning in conspiratorially. “Seriously, though. Girlfriend or…?”

Mark opened his mouth, but you beat him to it. “Yeah, he’s my boyfriend,” you said confidently, your voice steady despite the fluttering in your chest.

The words hung in the air, and Donghyuck gasped, dropping his imaginary mic. “You heard it here first, folks! She claimed him!”

Mark froze mid-dribble, the ball rolling away unnoticed. His wide-eyed gaze locked onto yours, the joy in his expression unmistakable. “Wait, really?” he called, his voice cracking just slightly.

You nodded, heart pounding as his grin spread. “Yeah, really.”

In an instant, he was across the court, his arms wrapping around you as he pulled you into a deep, breathless kiss. The cheers and exaggerated gagging noises from his friends melted into the background. Mark’s lips moved against yours with a fervor that made your knees weak, his hands steady on your waist, grounding you in the moment.

“I need to hear you say it,” he whispered against your lips, his voice low and warm, his forehead pressing against yours. “Ask me to be your boyfriend.”

Your voice trembled, but the words came without hesitation. “Will you be my boyfriend?”

“Yes,” he murmured, his lips crashing back onto yours. The kiss was harder this time, full of raw, unspoken emotions, his fingers gripping your waist as if to anchor you to him. It was your first kiss as boyfriend and girlfriend, and it felt monumental, like the entire court tilted just for the two of you.

Fueled by your words, Mark returned to the game with an energy that bordered on unstoppable. He dominated the court, each basket sharper, more purposeful. His grin widened with every point, the happiness radiating from him infectious. The other players groaned and cursed playfully as Donghyuck narrated with over-the-top enthusiasm. “And Lee Mark takes the crown! Powered by love, apparently!”

As the game wrapped up, Mark jogged over to you, slightly breathless but glowing with joy. Wrapping his arm around your waist, he pulled you close, his lips brushing your temple. “Told you it was the best game ever.”

Mark leaned in close, his breath warm against your cheek as he ducked his head to position his ear near your lips. His proximity sent a shiver down your spine, and your words were a whisper, low enough for only him to hear. “Can we go home soon? I want to suck my boyfriend’s cock, you know, as a reward for winning.”

His reaction was immediate, a stifled moan rumbling from his chest as his eyes snapped to yours, darkened with adoration and lust. His fingers squeezed your hand, grounding himself, and a smirk teased at the corners of his lips. “We will,” he murmured, his voice husky, “but come with me first.”

You barely had time to register his words before he clasped his hand firmly in yours, pulling you gently but purposefully toward the court. His steps were confident, his touch commanding, and you followed without question, drawn to him like gravity. He stopped in front of the hoop, his body close enough to block the breeze, his presence shielding you. You furrowed your brows in confusion, but when he retrieved the ball and placed it in your hands, realization hit.

“Mark—don’t make me shoot. It’s gonna be embarrassing,” you protested, laughing nervously.

His eyes held yours, steady and unwavering, and the intensity in his gaze left you breathless. “You’ve got this,” he said simply, shaking his head as if your doubts were ridiculous. He stepped behind you, his body pressing softly but unmistakably against yours. His warmth enveloped you, his chest flush with your back as his hands slid over your arms to guide you. The faint scent of his cologne surrounded you, woodsy and rich, and it made your head spin.

“Just like this,” he murmured, his voice low as his fingers adjusted your grip on the ball. “That’s my girl,” he whispered in your ear, the praise sending a rush of heat through you. His lips brushed your temple briefly before he straightened, his hands still steady on yours.

You tried to focus, making a few practice throws, but every attempt fell short, the ball missing by a mile. “You’re doing great,” he encouraged, a soft chuckle rumbling in his chest as he stayed close. “Don’t overthink it, baby.”

His words only made your cheeks heat further, and your laughter bubbled out despite your frustration. “You’re gonna be saying that when I miss again?” you teased, your voice lighter now.

He chuckled against you, his breath tickling your neck. “No, I’m gonna make sure you get it this time.” His hands shifted on your waist, pulling you even closer, his body pressed firmly into yours. His touch was deliberate as his hands moved back to your arms, guiding you again, his voice low in your ear. “Relax. Breathe. Keep your eyes on the rim.” His fingers flexed against your skin, steady and sure, and the heat of him seeped through your clothes.

This time, with his hands guiding you, the ball arched perfectly through the hoop, the satisfying swish drawing a cheer from the boys. Mark’s grin widened. “That’s my girl. See? I knew you could do it.”

For the next shot, his hands left yours, though he stayed close, his chest still brushing against your back. He leaned down, his voice dropping into something deeper, something charged with promise. “If you make this one, I’ll give you a reward.” The tone of his words sent a shiver down your spine, the implication unmistakable.

You whimpered softly, your body reacting before your mind caught up. “Really? I think I might need more details,” you whispered back, your voice breathy as your gaze flicked over your shoulder to him. “Can you give me a hint about this ‘reward?’”

Mark’s hands gripped your waist more firmly, his body pressing into yours as his lips brushed against your ear. “Just feel me, baby,” he whispered, his voice rough and laced with promise. The hard, unmistakable press of him against you sent a wave of heat through your body, and when you instinctively pushed back, the low, guttural moan he let out made your breath hitch. His touch was intoxicating, each subtle movement igniting something deep inside you, but Donghyuck’s loud commentary from the sidelines jolted you back, forcing you to suppress a smile as you refocused on the hoop, fueled by Mark’s quiet, teasing presence behind you.

Mark moved to stand beside you, his voice firm but soft as he gave you pointers. “Feet shoulder-width apart, knees soft,” he murmured, his voice steady and calm. His fingers grazed your arms as he helped you position the ball, then shifted to your hips, guiding you slightly forward. “Elbows in, aim for a smooth arc, and don’t overthink it—just let it glide naturally,” he added 

Your breathing hitched, Mark’s promise of a ‘reward’ was more than enough to push you. You took a deep breath, centering yourself. You aimed, focused, and released. The ball sailed through the hoop with precision, the swish drawing loud cheers and exaggerated commentary.

“Ladies and gentlemen!” Donghyuck announced dramatically. “She shoots! She scores! Lee Mark’s girl just became the queen of the river court!”

Your cheeks hurt from smiling, the happiness bubbling up in you so intense it felt like it might burst. Mark didn’t waste a second. He crossed the distance, cupping your face and pulling you into a kiss that was both deep and electric. “That was so hot,” he murmured against your lips, his voice rough with barely restrained need. “I’m so turned on.”

“Yeah?” you whispered back, breathless as your fingers curled into his shirt.

He didn’t answer. Instead, he picked you up, spinning you around as laughter spilled from your lips. The pure joy in your expression made his chest tighten, and he couldn’t help but kiss you again, harder this time.

From behind, Donghyuck’s voice rang out, “Look at this guy! So down bad for his girl. Get a room!”

Mark ignored his friends and their teasing, laughing softly against your lips, his forehead pressing to yours. His fingers traced gentle circles on your waist, his eyes never leaving yours as the world around you blurred into nothing but him.

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The surprise had come later than you’d expected, testing the limits of your patience in the best way. After leaving the river court, where the tension between you had already been palpable, you made an unplanned stop by the beach. The sun dipped low on the horizon, painting the sky in hues of gold and pink, and for a time, the two of you simply sat together, hand in hand, basking in the quiet sanctuary of the moment. You had both even posted on Instagram, making your relationship public. 

By the time you returned to his apartment, the longing between you had built to an almost unbearable crescendo. It only took minutes for his hands to find your body, for his mouth to claim yours, and for your clothes to scatter in a trail to the bedroom. Desperate to show your gratitude and admiration, you’d begged him to let you take him in your mouth, to show him how thankful you were for everything—the win at the river court, his unwavering care, his presence. But Mark had only cupped your face, his thumbs brushing over your cheeks as he whispered, “I just want to be inside you, baby. I need to feel you.”

And now, with him buried deep inside you, every movement is a testament to that need. His cock draws soft whimpers from your lips that he swallows with a kiss, his mouth capturing yours like he can’t get enough. “Mine,” he murmurs against your lips, his voice rough and full of adoration. You can feel the slight tremor in his grasp, betraying how much he’s holding back to savor every second of this. “Look at me,” he whispers, his voice low and firm, his forehead resting against yours. Your eyes meet his, and the vulnerability in his gaze makes your chest tighten.

He pauses briefly, his lips brushing your temple first, lingering there with a tenderness that sends a wave of warmth through your chest. He moves to your forehead, pressing a firm, deliberate kiss there as if sealing a silent promise. Your heart pounds in your chest, and you tilt your head slightly as his lips travel down to the bridge of your nose, then to the tip, soft and teasing, making you smile despite the overwhelming pleasure coursing through you. When his mouth finds your cheeks, he kisses each one slowly, as though committing the feel of your skin to memory. The sensation makes your breath hitch, your entire body tingling under the deliberate care of his affection.

His lips trail to the corner of your mouth, brushing over the sensitive skin before finally capturing your lips in a kiss so deep and consuming it leaves you breathless. He pulls back only to place a tender kiss on your chin, his eyes locking with yours as he smiles softly, his love and desire for you written in every touch. Each kiss feels reverent, grounding you, while the weight of his body against yours reminds you just how connected you are. The world fades away under his attention, the only thing anchoring you being the sheer intimacy of his touch and the heat radiating between you.

“You feel so tight, baby,” he groans, his hips pressing deeper, his movements unhurried but full of intent. Your nails press into his back as your legs tighten around his waist, pulling him even closer, your breath catching when his hand moves to cup your jaw, tilting your face back to claim your lips once more. “I love how well your body takes me,” he breathes against your mouth, his voice dripping with desire. “All mine.”

Your legs tighten instinctively around his waist, locking him closer as you meet his thrusts with soft, deliberate movements of your own. His cock fills you completely with every roll of his hips, and the way he watches you—eyes dark, yet so tender—makes your chest ache with something deeper than just pleasure. “Mark,” you whisper, your voice trembling as your hands slide up his back, nails grazing his skin gently. “You’re always gonna be mine.”

Mark’s response comes as a low groan, his hips stuttering slightly at your words. His hands slide down to grip your hips firmly, pulling you even closer, making sure there’s not an inch of space left between you. “Always yours, baby,” he breathes, his voice thick with need and emotion. He leans down, brushing his lips over your temple, your nose, and then capturing your mouth in a kiss so deep it makes your toes curl.

“My boyfriend,” you whisper, giggling softly, your voice light and full of joy.

Mark’s response was immediate—a deep, guttural moan that vibrated through him as he surged forward, burying himself inside you completely. The sound sent a shiver down your spine, your giggle dissolving into a soft gasp as he adjusted his grip on your thigh, pulling your leg higher and tighter around his waist. The angle allowed him to hit even deeper, each precise thrust leaving you breathless and clinging to him.

“Say it again,” he whispers into your ear, his voice thick with desire, his breath brushing against your skin and sending a shiver down your spine. His lips ghost along the shell of your ear before trailing down to the curve of your neck, leaving soft, open-mouthed kisses that make your breathing hitch. His hands slide up your sides, gentle yet firm, his fingertips grazing over your skin as if he’s memorising every inch of you. The warmth of his touch makes your chest tighten, and when you whisper, “My boyfriend,” it’s barely audible, your voice trembling with emotion and pleasure. A soft moan escapes you, and before it can fully form, his mouth captures it, his kiss deep and consuming, stealing your breath as he pulls you impossibly closer.

“Again.” He moans into your mouth.

“My boyfriend,” you murmur again, your voice trembling as soft, needy moans spill from your lips into his. His eyes stay locked on yours, dark and intense, yet brimming with a tenderness that makes your chest tighten. The corners of his lips tug into a faint, knowing grin, and he leans in, pressing the gentlest kiss to your mouth, his tongue brushing over yours with a deliberate slowness that leaves you breathless.

His hands cradle your face, his thumbs stroking your cheeks as though you’re the most delicate thing he’s ever held, even as his hips move against yours with an intoxicating rhythm. The slick, tight pull of your walls around him makes his breathing hitch, his lips brushing over yours in breathy whispers of praise as the quiet rhythm of your bodies fills the room. The wet sounds of your bodies moving together echo softly in the room, mingling with his deep, guttural groans and your breathless whimpers, your toes curling and your back arching against him. 

“I didn’t expect you to make me your boyfriend—not that I’m complaining,” Mark murmurs, his voice soft but full of warmth. His eyes glimmer as they stay locked on yours, a small smile tugging at his lips. “I’m happy. So happy.”

You lace your fingers with his, bringing his hands closer to your lips as you kiss his knuckles tenderly, the gesture intimate and grounding. It feels like the right moment to explain yourself, the words spilling out as your heart races. “I feel like from the start we both knew it was always more than just sex,” you begin, your voice quiet but steady, filled with emotion. “I’ve been falling for you, Mark. I really have. You’ve made my days better in ways I can’t even explain.”

You press his hand to your chest, right where your heart beats wildly beneath your skin. “Do you feel that?” you whisper. “It’s what you do to me. Every time I’m around you, it’s like my whole body remembers how much you mean to me.” Your pupils widen as your gaze locks with his, and he tilts his head slightly, the corners of his mouth curving into a playful smirk. 

He coos, brushing his thumb over your cheek, silent as he absorbs your words, fully aware of how rare yet precious these moments of vulnerability are for you. You hold his hands tighter, wanting to be even closer. “I would do anything to make you happy,” you say earnestly, your voice trembling with sincerity. “You’re the most important thing to me, Mark. It’s been difficult these last six months, keeping us a secret, and I know how much you’ve had to agree to for my sake. You’ve respected my pace, how anxious I can get… And I just wanted you to know I see that. I feel it. And I’ll always appreciate you for it.”

You take a breath, your hand brushing his neck gently. “I guess I felt like I wasn’t doing enough to show you how much I care. You’ve initiated so many of our firsts, and I wanted to do this for you. I wanted you to feel what I feel every time you remind me how much you care. I thought it would make you happy.”

“I want to make you happy the way you make me happy,” you whisper, your voice thick with emotion. “I’ve never felt this way before, Mark. Never.” 

He leans into your touch, his smile softening as he presses his lips to your palm. “You do make me happy. In every way,” he says, his voice low and reverent.

But then, his breath catches, a sharp hiss escaping his lips as you instinctively shift beneath him, your walls clenching tightly around his cock. “Baby,” he groans, his voice strained, a mix of pleasure and desperation, “don’t do that. I won’t last.” His head falls into the curve of your neck, his lips brushing your skin as he whispers for you to stay still. The warmth of his breath sends shivers down your spine, and you nod softly, grounding yourself in his closeness.

The stretch of him inside you is intoxicating, his size filling you completely, every inch of him pushing your limits but somehow fitting perfectly. He’s so big, so thick, the press of his cock against your walls leaving you feeling full and so warm. He stays still, buried to the hilt, his body flush against yours, radiating heat that seeps into your skin. The way he fills you is unlike anything else, a connection that’s both physical and emotional, his presence grounding you in the moment.

The two of you knew what this night would entail—slow, deliberate movements, soft kisses exchanged between gentle moans, whispers of love and quiet reassurances shared in the dim light of your bedroom. This night wouldn’t be about chasing release; it’s about savoring each other, the intimacy of simply being together. You’re more than happy for him to stay like this, his cock nestled deep inside you, keeping you warm and connected as his lips press soft kisses along your temple and down to your jaw.

“I want to tell you something, and I don’t want you to get scared,” he says softly, his voice steady but laced with emotion. The weight in his tone pulls you to reality, grounding you as his serious gaze locks with yours, full of sincerity and vulnerability.

Your stomach twists, and despite his reassurance this entire time, your breath catches in your throat. Your mind races, a familiar pang of fear creeping in. What did I do wrong? The moment had felt too perfect, too good to last. But then his next words cut through the haze of your doubt, wrapping around you like a balm.

“I’m in love with you. I’m so fucking in love with you,” he confesses, his voice deep and unshaken, his gaze piercing and unrelenting. There’s no hesitation, no fear in the way he says it. His eyes lock onto yours, his expression so raw, so vulnerable, that you can’t look away even as the intensity of his words makes your chest tighten.

It feels like the world shifts beneath your feet, his declaration grounding and unmooring you all at once. You feel warmth spreading through you, an overwhelming swell of emotion that makes your throat tighten and your hands tremble. Love. The word itself feels impossibly big, heavy with meaning, yet his voice makes it feel lighter, softer—like something you could finally hold onto without fear of it slipping away.

And yet, there’s a small part of you that resists. You’re unsure whether you can call it ‘love’ yet. You’re not sure if you can claim that word yet, not sure if you’re ready to let yourself fully embrace it. The depth of what he’s said, of what he feels, terrifies you. You’ve spent so long second-guessing yourself, so long wondering if you’re worthy of this kind of love, of someone like him. His words are like a mirror, reflecting all the things you’ve been too afraid to believe about yourself.

He doesn’t rush you. “I’ve felt like this for a long time,” he continues, his tone gentle but insistent, like he’s determined to let you know exactly where he stands. “It’s something that’s been building in me for so long, and now just felt like the right time to tell you. You can feel it, can’t you? How much I love you?” His hand cups your cheek, his thumb brushing softly against your skin, grounding you in the present.

You nod slowly, your eyes soft, pupils blown wide with a mix of nerves and something deeper, something unspoken but mutual. You lean into his touch, pressing your palm lightly against his. But it’s the silence that lingers between you that catches his attention, and it doesn’t surprise him. He knows you—knows your tendency to retreat inward when the weight of your emotions becomes too much. And he doesn’t take your silence as a rejection.

“You don’t have to say it right now, don’t want you to feel pressured” he says, his lips brushing against yours in a kiss so soft it feels like a promise. “I know you’re not ready.” The fear doesn’t leave completely, but it softens in his presence and at his words. 

He doesn’t push, doesn’t demand anything from you that you’re not ready to give. There’s no expectation in his expression, just quiet patience and unwavering care. His words echo in your mind, weaving through all the doubts and insecurities that have kept you guarded for so long. I’m in love with you. I’ve felt like this for so long. The way he says it makes it clear he’s not waiting for reciprocation; he’s simply giving you the truth of his heart, letting you hold it if you’re ready.

“I know what we have is real for both of us. Until you can say it, I’ll just keep reminding you, hm?” He adds. His voice is a soothing hum, filled with patience and understanding.

“Reminding me of what?” you mumble, a small, teasing smirk tugging at the corners of your lips, your coyness earning a fond chuckle from him.

“That I love you,” he repeats without hesitation, his gaze unwavering. The flutter in your chest is undeniable, and you can’t help but smile through the happy tears that well in your eyes. It amazes you how easily the words roll off his tongue, how unafraid he is to show you the depths of his feelings. For the first time in your life, you feel truly seen, truly worthy of something this profound.

Your fingers thread through his hair, tugging gently as you tease, “But in the photo you posted of me on Instagram, you said you were falling in love with the view—not that you were actually in love.”

A grin spreads across his face, and he matches your playful tone. “I was talking about the view at the beach,” he says, his chuckle warm and light.

You snort, rolling your eyes. “Yeah, right.” You know he was fully referring to you, and the thought makes your cheeks flush.

His teasing melts into something more serious as he shakes his head, his expression softening. His eyes, so full of tenderness, meet yours as he speaks. “Well, for a while, I was trying to figure it out—wondering if I was really in love with the view. But then…” His smile grows, and his hand slips to your waist, pulling you closer. “The view asked me to be her boyfriend, and that made me realize I’d been in love this whole time.”

The sincerity in his voice, the way his words wrap around your heart, makes you lean forward and kiss him deeply. And in that moment, you know without a doubt that this love—this connection—is yours to keep.

───────────────────────────────

As you step onto campus, it feels like the world shifts around you—your bubble bursts so violently it’s like being jolted awake from a dream. The quiet, warm haze of being with Mark yesterday is gone, replaced by an overwhelming awareness of the world outside. The early morning air is crisp, the sun casting soft golden light over the scattered groups of students. Though the campus isn’t as packed as it will be later in the day, it feels impossibly crowded to you, every sound amplified, every face turned toward you.

Mark had left early in the morning after spending the night, waking you with the lightest shake and a soft kiss on your lips, his voice low and raspy as he murmured, “I’ve got to finish that project—it’s due today.” His touch lingered for a moment before he pulled away, brushing a thumb over your cheek and promising, “I’ll come by later.” Now, without him beside you, the campus felt unusually quiet, the absence of his presence leaving an ache you couldn’t quite shake.

You walk alone, your shoes tapping softly against the pavement, the sound oddly loud in your ears. Eyes seem to follow you with every step, whispers trailing just behind them. It’s disorienting. Yesterday, with Mark by your side, you’d felt invincible—his hand in yours was like a shield, grounding you and keeping the world at bay. But today, without him, every glance, every hushed word cuts through you.

Your chest tightens, and a rush of heat creeps up your neck as your heart pounds erratically. The air feels thinner somehow, and you struggle to draw a full breath. Your fingers tremble slightly, and you clutch at the strap of your bag as though it might anchor you to reality. Your legs feel heavier with each step, the weight of invisible eyes pressing down on you. By the time you near the performing arts building, your head spins, the whispers around you blending into a low hum that grows louder with every passing second.

“Did you hear?” a voice filters through the noise, sharp and distinct enough to make your stomach churn.

“I heard she was with Jeno first…” Mia says, her words cutting through the haze like a blade.

You glance toward the group of girls, their laughter grating as they openly stare at you. Your gaze drops to the ground, unwilling to meet their eyes, but the tension coils tighter in your chest.

“She’s so lucky to have Mark,” Aisha adds, her tone almost admiring but laced with speculation. “But did she really cheat on Jeno with him?”

The word ‘cheat’ sends a jolt of nausea through you. Your pace quickens instinctively, but their voices still reach you, each syllable sticking like thorns in your mind.

“What does he even see in her?” Mia responds, her words ringing louder than the rest.

Your vision blurs slightly, and you force yourself to keep walking, even as your pulse races. The air feels heavier, your throat tightening with every breath. You hear a final mutter, this time from Ryujin, loud enough to be deliberate: “He could do so much better.”

It’s like a punch to the gut, their words echoing in your mind, bouncing off the walls of your spiraling thoughts. They’re saying I cheated. The accusation feels like a foreign object lodged in your chest, sharp and suffocating. Your mind twists and turns, trying to make sense of it, trying to remember every step you took with Mark, every moment you shared with Jeno. Confusion clouds your thoughts. You want to defend yourself, to explain, but there’s no one to listen, no one to tell you what’s true or false anymore.

Your steps falter as the weight of it all pulls you down, threatening to crush you. You’ve never felt more exposed, more vulnerable, and the performing arts building ahead feels impossibly far away. You take a shaky breath, forcing yourself forward, though every step feels like a battle.

Focus on Mark, you reminded yourself, gripping the bag of breakfast tightly as you made your way to the music department. Mark had left in such a rush this morning, his stress about the project radiating off him. You could tell he hadn’t eaten, and the least you could do was bring him something to keep him going. He needs this, you thought, and you need to see him.

As you step into the music department, the atmosphere changes instantly. The bustling energy of the main campus fades, replaced by a quieter, more focused hum. The high ceilings, clean white walls, and warm wooden accents give the building a sense of calm. The halls are lined with soundproof practice rooms, each one a small sanctuary for creativity. You pass students engrossed in their music, their heads bent over pianos, guitars, and laptops, completely absorbed. No one spares you a second glance, and the weight on your chest begins to lift.

This is what you needed. This side of campus feels safe, far from the gossiping whispers and pointed stares. The arts students are too focused on their own work to notice you, and the quiet hum of melodies drifting through the air feels like a balm. You tighten your grip on the bag in your hands and smile when you push the door open to the room he was in. 

He sat at a desk cluttered with audio equipment, headphones on, completely immersed in the layers of music on his laptop screen. The room is spacious, with a sleek desk covered in audio equipment, a keyboard against one wall, and a few guitars propped in the corner. A large monitor displays multiple tracks on Mark’s laptop screen, the intricate layers of his music in progress. The faint glow of the monitor highlights his features as he sits at the desk, headphones snug over his ears, completely absorbed in his work. His fingers fly over the keys, pausing occasionally to adjust a slider on the audio interface. His head bobs slightly to the rhythm, and his brows are furrowed in concentration.

For a moment, you just watch him. He’s in his element, so focused, and it makes your heart swell. Last night’s memory flashes through your mind, the way he’d held you, kissed you, murmured soft words against your skin. The thought sends warmth through you, pushing away the remnants of anxiety from earlier.

“Mark,” you called softly, stepping further into the room, but he didn’t so much as glance your way. A grin tugged at your lips as you took in how absorbed he was, Perfect. Quietly, you tiptoed up behind him and tapped his shoulder, leaning in slightly as you waited for him to jump.

Nothing.

His posture didn’t even shift. His focus was unshaken.

With a dramatic sigh, you sat down next to him, close enough for him to see you in his peripheral vision. “How do you do that?” you pouted, crossing your arms. “You always make me jump when you sneak up on me, but I can’t even get you to blink.”

Mark finally smiled, pulling off his headphones and turning to face you. Without a word, he leaned forward and kissed you softly on the lips, the warmth of his affection melting away your mock annoyance. “Because I’m always ready for you,” he murmured against your lips, his smile widening as he pulled back just slightly, his eyes crinkling with amusement. “Nice try, though.”

His gaze drops to the bag in your hand. “What’s this?”

“Breakfast,” you said simply, placing it on the desk. “I know you didn’t eat before leaving, so…”

His expression softened as he opened the bag and found exactly what he liked: an everything bagel, avocado slices, crispy bacon, and his coffee—medium roast with oat milk, no sugar. He took a bite, followed by a sip, his smile widening. “You’re amazing,” he said warmly, looking at you with so much affection it made your heart skip. “Best girlfriend ever.”

You leaned in, pressing a soft kiss to his cheek. “I try.”

As he continued eating, you stood, ready to head to class. “I should go. I don’t want to distract you,” you said, already moving toward the door.

Mark caught your wrist just as you started to move away, his touch firm but gentle, pulling you back toward him. “Don’t go yet,” he murmured, his voice low and filled with a soft yearning that made your heart skip. His thumb brushed over the inside of your wrist, a small, intimate gesture that sent warmth spreading through you. “I need recharging.”

“Recharging?” you repeated, raising an eyebrow, though your lips tugged into a playful smile.

He grinned, his eyes glinting with mischief as he tugged you onto his lap effortlessly. His hands settled on your waist, fingers spreading wide against your sides as he adjusted you to fit perfectly against him. “Yes,” he said simply, his voice dropping lower. “You’re my battery, baby.”

You laughed, your arms instinctively wrapping around his neck, your fingertips playing with the soft hairs at the nape of his neck. “You’re ridiculous,” you teased, though your heart swelled at how easy it felt to be close to him like this. His presence had a way of grounding you, making the world fade into the background.

Mark’s lips lingered against your temple, soft and teasing as he murmured, “And you love it.” He slid his headphones over your ears, his fingertips brushing lightly against your skin, and hit play. The music enveloped you instantly, a perfect blend of layered harmonies and intricate beats. It was beautiful—raw and unmistakably his. Your eyes fluttered shut as the melody filled your senses, drawing you into the world he’d created. When he finally pulled the headphones away, his gaze was full of quiet anticipation, his lips quirking into a small, hopeful smile.

“I love… it,” you breathe, your voice trailing off into a soft moan. Without thinking, you leaned in, pressing your lips to his in a soft, lingering kiss. His hands cupped your face, thumbs brushing against your cheeks as the kiss deepened, slow and tender at first before turning playful. He nipped at your lower lip, making you giggle, and followed it with gentle smooches along your jawline and back to your lips, as if he couldn’t get enough of you. His warmth surrounded you, grounding you in the moment.

But the sound of the door creaking open shattered your bubble. Both of you pulled away abruptly, your eyes darting to the figure standing in the doorway—Mark’s best friend. She stood there, her expression unreadable, but her gaze flickered between the two of you before settling on Mark with a mix of hope and uncertainty.

“Hey, Y/N, can I have a moment with Mark?” she asked, her tone polite but firm.

You blinked, caught off guard, and nodded quickly. “Yeah, of course.” You started to rise, already thinking that maybe they needed this—time to talk and mend whatever had fractured between them.

But before you could take another step, Mark stood too, his hand slipping into yours as he turned to her. His jaw tightened, and his eyes hardened, the warmth from moments ago replaced by something distant and cold. “No, you can’t,” he said flatly, not even looking at her before he guided you toward the door.

You hesitated, your steps faltering as you glanced back at her. Guilt churned in your stomach, and you gently stopped Mark, placing your hands on either side of his face to get his attention. “Don’t you want to talk to her?” you asked softly, searching his eyes. “It’s a good idea. Just… get everything off your chest. Listen to what she has to say.”

“I’m not interested,” he muttered, his tone clipped, leaving no room for argument. His expression was set, frustration simmering just beneath the surface as his fingers tightened slightly around yours.

Still, you turned back to her, offering an apologetic smile. “Sorry,” you murmured, your voice small before Mark pulled you out of the room, his grip firm yet protective.

Once outside, the tension in your chest only grew. “I can’t believe you still haven’t made up with her,” you mumbled, the weight of the situation pressing down on you. It was hard to ignore the guilt gnawing at your edges. Jeno’s revelation about you and Mark had sent shockwaves through everyone’s lives, exposing secrets and unravelling relationships. The fallout between Mark and his best friend, the strained connection between you and Karina, Jeno’s own conflicts—it all stemmed from the lie you’d told, the choice you’d made.

Mark’s thumb brushed over your knuckles, grounding you again, but the guilt didn’t dissipate. How could you and Mark be so happy, so wrapped up in each other, when everyone else around you was hurting? The thought clawed at your insides.

The tension in the air was palpable as Mark tightened his grip on your hand, trying to reassure you. “Look, one day I will talk to her, but I don’t want to right now. I just want to enjoy my time with you.” His voice was calm, steady, as if trying to convince both you and himself.

You opened your mouth to respond, but the sound of the door creaking open cut you off. She stood there, her expression unreadable as her gaze flickered from Mark to you. Her lips pressed into a thin line before she let out a soft sigh. “Can I talk to you then, Y/N?”

You blinked, caught off guard. “Me?”

Mark’s eyebrows furrowed in concern, his hand tightening around yours protectively. “You don’t have to,” he said softly, leaning in as if to shield you.

You shook your head, giving him a small smile to reassure him. “It’s okay,” you murmured. “Go ahead. I’ll see you later.”

He hesitated for a moment, his hand lingering on yours before he nodded reluctantly. “I’ll message you,” he said, his voice low and careful. His eyes stayed on you as he left, clearly uneasy about leaving you alone with her.

You followed her back into the music room, the once-welcoming space now feeling cold and uninviting. The door shut behind you with a soft click, the sound reverberating in the silence that followed. You didn’t know what to expect, but it wasn’t the venom that dripped from her words the moment she spoke.

“This is fucking unbelievable,” she began, her tone sharp and unforgiving. “I can’t believe what I’m seeing. How the hell hasn’t Mark gotten away from you?”

“What?” you asked, the single word escaping you before you could even process her attack.

She didn’t stop. “You’re everything he doesn’t stand for. The lying, the deception, the attention—the negative attention. I’m so surprised he’s still with you.”

Her words were like daggers, sharp and precise, each one finding its mark. You felt your chest tighten, your breathing shallow as you tried to formulate a response. “You don’t know anything about us,” you said quietly, biting your tongue to hold back the surge of emotions threatening to spill over.

Her laugh was humorless, almost cruel. “But I know him,” she shot back, her eyes narrowing as she stepped closer. “I’ve known him since we were kids, Y/N. Trust me, this? This entire thing with you? It’s unlike him. I’m in disbelief that he made you his girlfriend after everything… That isn’t like Mark at all. He doesn’t rush into things.”

The words hit harder than you expected, each one planting seeds of doubt in your mind. You tried to tell yourself she was speaking out of anger, that she didn’t mean it, but the cracks in your resolve were already forming. Your voice was small when you finally responded. “How do you know I’m his girlfriend?”

Hanni tilted her head, an incredulous smile tugging at her lips. “Well, now I do,” she said, a bitter laugh escaping her as she turned on her heel and walked out, leaving you alone in the room with your spiraling thoughts.

The silence that followed was deafening. Her words echoed in your head, relentless and unforgiving. Mark making you his girlfriend isn’t like him. It replayed over and over, each time driving deeper into your insecurities. Your chest felt heavy, your throat tight as tears threatened to spill. You couldn’t stop the doubts from taking root, couldn’t stop the suffocating feeling that maybe, just maybe, she was right.

“He’s been shutting me out,” she said flatly, her voice pulling you from your train of thoughts, she speaks heavy with resentment. “Mark doesn’t do that. He doesn’t just disappear from my life the way he is right now. We’ve had arguments before, but he’s never ignored me for this long. I’m the one who’s always been there for him. But ever since you came into the picture, it’s like I don’t exist anymore.”

“That’s not true,” you said quickly, the defensiveness in your tone giving you away. “Even when we were together, he always found time for you. He hung out with you, checked in on you—he never forgot about you. The only reason he’s shutting you out right now is because he’s hurt. You know that. The whole Jeno situation broke something between you two, and it has nothing to do with me.”

Her eyes narrowed, her arms crossing tightly over her chest. “It has everything to do with you,” she snapped. “If you hadn’t lied about what was going on between you and Mark, none of this would’ve blown up the way it did. You’re the reason he’s pissed off at me. You made this mess.”

You took a step back, the weight of her words pressing down on your chest. “That’s not fair,” you said, your voice quieter now but still firm. “You’re projecting all your anger onto me because you don’t want to face the fact that you messed up. You’re the one who didn’t tell him about you and Jeno. You kept it a secret just like we did.”

Her laugh was short and bitter, her frustration spilling over. “Are you really trying to compare the two? I was protecting my relationship. What were you protecting? A secret fling? A lie?”

“It wasn’t a lie,” you shot back, heat rising in your voice. “Mark and I didn’t even know what we were at first. It wasn’t planned, and it definitely wasn’t meant to hurt anyone. You and Jeno made your own choices, just like we did. Don’t blame me because Mark’s mad at you.”

She shook her head, her gaze cold and unrelenting. “You don’t get it. Mark and I have been through everything together. He’s my best friend. And now, because of you, he’s shutting me out. Do you even know how that feels?”

“I do,” you said softly, meeting her glare. “I know what it’s like to feel like you’re losing someone you care about. But this isn’t about me. If you really care about him, then stop blaming me and talk to him. Own up to what you did. Don’t use me as your excuse for why he’s mad.”

Her lips parted like she wanted to argue, but no words came out. Instead, she shook her head again, her expression a mix of anger and disbelief. “You think you know him, but you don’t. Not like I do.”

“Maybe not,” you admitted, your voice steady now. “But I do know that he’s not shutting you out because of me. He’s shutting you out because he’s hurt. And that’s something only you can fix.”

The silence between you hung heavy, her glare still sharp but faltering. For a moment, you thought she might say something else, but instead, she turned on her heel and walked out, leaving you alone with the echo of her words and the tightening knot in your chest.

You sank into the chair Mark had vacated moments ago, the wood creaking softly beneath your weight. Your hands trembled as they rested on the table, a faint shiver running through your body despite the warmth of the room. You inhaled deeply, trying to steady your breathing, but your mind refused to quiet. Every word, every sharp edge of her accusations replayed in your head like a relentless loop.

You told yourself you’d held your ground—that you’d spoken logically, defended yourself and Mark with the conviction you knew the situation demanded. But her words still cut deep, slicing through your carefully crafted walls. You understood, at least on some level, that she spoke from a place of hurt—hurt caused by Mark’s indifference, by his attention shifting entirely to you. Yet knowing that didn’t dull the sting; it only made the ache sharper, heavier.

Your thoughts spiraled as doubt crept in. Is this too much for him? Are you dragging him down, pulling him into something he doesn’t deserve? Does he regret this? The questions churned in your chest, twisting the knot of frustration and guilt that had taken root there. You curled your fingers into fists, pressing your nails into your palms as if the slight pain could pull you back to reality.

You exhaled shakily, closing your eyes for a moment, willing the chaos in your mind to subside. But her voice lingered like a shadow, her accusations clinging to you in a way that felt impossible to shake.

You knew Mark’s best friend was struggling, torn between her newfound relationship with Jeno and the fallout with Mark. For her, it wasn’t just about the sudden public nature of her relationship; it was the weight of the friendship that had stood the test of decades, now fractured under the strain of secrets and misunderstandings. She had never been in a relationship before, and you could see how she was still figuring it all out—discovering herself as she went. 

Still, the hurt between her and Mark was palpable. Mark, for all his cool demeanor, carried his own weight of sadness and betrayal. You understood why he was keeping his distance—he was trying to approach things logically, to avoid letting fresh emotions lead to more arguments and deeper fractures. But that didn’t mean he wasn’t hurt. She had been his confidant, the one person he trusted to share the depth of his feelings for you without judgment. The fact that she hadn’t reciprocated that same trust stung. Maybe he understood why she hadn’t told him—because of who her relationship was with, and how delicate things used to be between him and Jeno—but understanding didn’t make it hurt any less.

And you? You felt like the weight of it all somehow rested on your shoulders. Even though you hadn’t been the one to drop the bombshell, you felt responsible for the fallout anyway. You hadn’t told Mark because of your promise to his best friend, but seeing the pain in his eyes, knowing how much her silence had hurt him, left an ache you couldn’t ignore. You wanted to fix it, to push them to talk and sort it out, but you knew it wasn’t your place. This was something they had to navigate themselves, and all you could do was hope they would find a way back to each other.

Your chest tightened further, the unspoken weight of their fractured relationship pressing down on you. You felt like you were caught in the crossfire, the burden of loyalty tugging you in opposite directions. And yet, as much as you wanted to help, you knew you had no right to intervene. This wasn’t your story to resolve—it was theirs. Still, the guilt lingered, making it harder to breathe as you stared at the empty coffee cup Mark had left behind, wishing for an answer that didn’t exist.

You pick up Mark’s empty coffee cup, your hands trembling slightly as you toss it into the bin. The sound of it hitting the bottom feels sharper than it should, echoing in the silence left after the confrontation. You take a deep breath, trying to push away the conversation that still lingers like a shadow over your thoughts. But the knot in your chest refuses to loosen.

Needing a distraction, an anchor, you go to find Mark. He’s sitting in one of the other music rooms on the same floor, leaning over his laptop, his fingers typing steadily. When you step in, he looks up almost instantly, his eyes softening as they land on you.

“What happened?” he asks, his voice calm but tinged with curiosity.

You hesitate, shaking your head quickly. “Nothing,” you say, though it comes out too abrupt to be convincing.

Mark furrows his brows, his gaze narrowing slightly as he studies you. You know he doesn’t believe you. He knows you too well, sees you too deeply, and you can feel him reading every flicker of emotion you’re trying to suppress. But to your surprise, he doesn’t push.

Instead, he leans back in his chair, watching you for a moment before turning his attention back to his screen. “Okay,” he says softly, giving you the space you weren’t sure you even needed.

You stay where you are, hovering by the door, your mind still replaying the conversation. It had shaken something in you, and now all you wanted was to bury it, to forget it entirely. Anchoring yourself to Mark felt like the only way to ground the spiraling thoughts in your head, but his silence—his willingness to wait for you to come to him—left you unsettled in a different way.

He must know something’s wrong. Mark always knows. He can see through you so easily, always has, so his restraint is surprising. Maybe he’s giving you time, you think. Space to sort it out and come to him when you’re ready.

He glances at you again as he stands, brushing his hands over his thighs before stepping closer, his presence magnetic and grounding. His hands find your waist, pulling you gently but firmly against him. He rests his forehead against yours for a brief moment, his breath warm as it fans over your lips. “Hey,” he murmurs softly, his tone laced with both curiosity and reassurance. “You okay?”

You nod quickly, even though the answer feels far from true. “Yeah,” you say, forcing a small smile. “I actually need to go to class now. I’ll be late.”

His hands shift, one sliding up your side, his fingers grazing the curve of your ribs, while the other moves to cradle your face. His thumb brushes over your cheekbone, his touch slow and deliberate, like he’s memorizing the way your skin feels under his fingers. “I’ll walk you to class,” he says without hesitation.

You shake your head quickly. “It’s okay, it’s not far from here.”

He laughs softly, the sound warm and familiar. “That’s good, because I do really need to focus on this project.” He leans down, his lips finding yours in a kiss that’s soft at first but lingers longer than it should, his mouth moving gently against yours like he’s trying to tell you everything he can’t say aloud.

When he finally pulls back, he presses another kiss to your forehead, then to your temple, before his hand slides down your arm, his fingers grazing yours. “I’ll see you later at practice, yeah?” he murmurs, giving your hand a light squeeze before letting go. You stand there for a moment, watching him as he steps back toward his desk, the warmth of his touch still lingering on your skin. You nod to yourself, exhaling shakily before stepping out of the room. 

───────────────────────────────

The gym buzzed with the familiar rhythm of practice—basketballs thudding against the court, the screech of sneakers cutting through the air, and the sharp whistle blasts from Coach Suh. The cheer squad was set up at the far end of the gym, practicing their own routines with bursts of laughter and chatter, but your focus was on the game unfolding in front of you.

You had been excited to see Mark at practice, eager to anchor yourself to his calm presence after the tension of the day. But when your gaze landed on the court, that excitement fizzled into unease. The air was thick with tension from the very start, and it didn’t take long to see why.

Mark and Jeno were locked in what could only be described as a silent battle. They were hyper-focused—but not in the usual, coordinated way. Instead of working together, they seemed intent on outplaying each other at every turn. Jeno went out of his way to block Mark aggressively, shoulders colliding in ways that bordered on outright shoving. Mark retaliated by intercepting passes meant for Jeno, his movements sharp and deliberate, as if to prove a point. When communication was necessary, they outright ignored each other, their glares speaking louder than any words.

The sound of the ball bouncing on the hardwood echoed with every quick dribble, but the game itself was messy. Passes were intercepted, plays were broken, and rebounds turned into outright battles for the ball. You winced as Jeno and Mark collided under the basket, neither willing to back down as they scrambled for the rebound. 

It wasn’t long before their frustration boiled over into outright defiance. Mark intercepted a pass meant for Jeno, ignoring his teammate’s call for the ball as he sprinted up the court. Jeno, visibly irritated, blocked Mark hard enough to send the ball flying out of bounds. Instead of a quick reset, they glared at each other, the tension crackling between them.

Coach Suh blew his whistle, the sharp sound echoing through the gym and silencing everyone instantly. He stormed onto the court, his face a mix of frustration and disbelief. “What the hell is going on with you two?” he barked, his voice booming across the gym. “You’ve gone back to square one! You’re supposed to be teammates, not enemies!”

Mark and Jeno stood a few feet apart, both avoiding each other’s eyes. Jeno’s jaw clenched, his chest rising and falling as he tried to keep his cool. Mark looked just as tense, his hands resting on his hips, fingers flexing as if itching to say something. The rest of the team stood frozen, their eyes darting between the two, the tension thick enough to choke on.

“You want to throw this season away? Because that’s exactly where this is heading if you two don’t get your shit together,” Coach Suh continued, his voice cutting through the stillness. “Figure it out, or you’re both benched. I don’t care how good you are—this isn’t about you; it’s about the team.”

The whistle blew again, signaling a break, and the players dispersed toward the benches. You watched as Mark grabbed a water bottle, his movements stiff with frustration. Jeno lingered nearby, pacing slightly, his jaw set in a hard line.

You could feel it before it even happened—the inevitable explosion.

“You gonna keep hiding behind the coach, Lee,” Jeno muttered, his voice low and sharp, “or you gonna play like a man?”

Mark’s head snapped toward him, his brows furrowing as his eyes narrowed. “You’re the one acting like a damn child,” he shot back, his voice louder than Jeno’s but no less tense. “Bringing personal shit into practice? Real mature.”

Jeno stepped closer, his grip tightening on his water bottle. “Personal shit? You mean like you sneaking around with my ex behind my back? Or maybe it’s about you telling me to stay out of your business while you’re all over mine.”

Mark’s jaw ticked, his shoulders squaring as he closed the gap between them. “You’re really gonna stand there and act like you’ve been some innocent saint in all this?” he snapped, his voice dripping with sarcasm. “You’re the one who can’t keep things professional. I’m here to play, not deal with your goddamn insecurities.”

The exchange was loud enough to catch the attention of the rest of the team, who pretended to stretch or hydrate but couldn’t hide their curious glances. Murmurs rippled through the players, their eyes darting between Mark and Jeno like spectators waiting for the next move in a boxing match.

Coach Suh stormed over, his face red with anger. “Enough!” he bellowed, his voice silencing every murmur in the gym. “Sort your shit out, or get off my court.”

Mark and Jeno didn’t look at each other, their standoff ending as Coach Suh’s words sank in. Mark’s lips pressed into a thin line as he turned away, running a hand through his hair in frustration. Jeno exhaled sharply, his grip on the water bottle tightening before he tossed it onto the bench.

You watched it all unfold, your chest tightening with unease. The tension between them was suffocating, and you couldn’t shake the feeling that things were only going to get worse before they got better.

“What’s going on with Mark and Jeno?” Aisha asked suddenly, nudging your side. Her tone was casual, but her sharp gaze suggested she was already piecing things together.

“I don’t know,” you lied, shrugging and forcing your face to stay neutral. You focused on straightening the hem of your cheer skirt, avoiding her eyes.

But Aisha wasn’t the only one curious. Yiren, standing nearby, leaned in closer. “It looks intense,” she said, her lips quirking into a smirk. “Is it true you and Jeno used to date? And now you’re with Mark?” Her voice dropped into a teasing lilt, her words dripping with faux curiosity. “That’s so messy.”

Yiren wasn’t deterred. “I mean, Jeno’s hot, but Mark?” She let out a low whistle. “How did you even pull him? Like, for real.”

You stiffened, your cheeks flushing hot, the bluntness of Yiren’s words hitting like a slap you hadn’t braced for. You opened your mouth to respond, but no words came out. Your throat felt tight, constricted by the sudden weight of humiliation pressing down on you.

“Guys, stop,” Chaeyoung said, her voice cutting through the tension. Her tone wasn’t harsh, but there was a pointedness to it that made the others fall momentarily silent. For a split second, you felt a flicker of gratitude—until she kept talking. “Her and Mark are just hooking up though, right? I mean, it would be so much worse if she actually got with him as boyfriend and girlfriend.”

The words sent an icy chill through you, the blood draining from your face. It was like the floor had been pulled out from under you, leaving you standing there exposed and vulnerable. Your eyes darted to Chaeyoung, searching for some sign that she realized how cruel her comment sounded, but she was already looking back at Yiren and Aisha, her expression almost too casual.

You couldn’t believe they were talking about you like this—as if you weren’t standing right there, as if your entire life was just gossip fodder for their entertainment.

“Seriously?” you finally managed, your voice low but edged with disbelief. The words barely made it out, drowned by the lump in your throat.

Aisha tilted her head, feigning innocence. “What? It’s not like it’s a big deal. People hook up all the time. But, like, you guys aren’t actually dating, are you?”

Across the court, the tension between Mark and Jeno reached its peak. Mark stormed off first, his face dark with frustration, the muscles in his jaw clenched so tightly it looked like it hurt. Your heart sank as his eyes briefly flicked to yours. The anger and hurt in his gaze made your stomach twist painfully.

Moments later, Jeno stalked past, his steps deliberate, his posture rigid with barely contained tension. His expression was cold, unyielding, and his gaze stayed locked ahead, not sparing you even a passing glance. Yet, his proximity was enough to make your skin prickle, a sharp, invisible chill creeping up your spine. You could feel the storm of his emotions radiating off him—anger, frustration, maybe even betrayal—all tightly bottled beneath his unreadable mask.

The air around you felt colder as he moved away, like he’d sucked the warmth out of the gym with him. His presence lingered, heavy and suffocating, long after he disappeared into the hallway. The echoes of his retreating footsteps seemed impossibly loud against the muted murmurs that filled the gym.

The cheerleaders had fallen silent, the weight of the scene settling over them like a shroud. Their gazes darted between Mark, who had stormed off moments earlier, and Jeno, who was now gone, before finally snapping back to you. Their stares burned, each glance feeling like a spotlight, their judgment palpable in the charged silence.

Then the whispers started again.

“Wow,” Aisha muttered, breaking the quiet with a tone dripping in mock awe. She leaned slightly toward Yiren, her lips curving into a smirk. “I can’t believe you’re at the center of all this. Must be nice to have two guys fighting over you.”

Their words hit like a physical blow, leaving you frozen in place, your cheeks burning. You couldn’t stay here—not with their judgmental stares and whispered comments suffocating you. “I need some air,” you said quickly, excusing yourself before they could say anything else.

The hallway outside the gym was quiet, the faint hum of the fluorescent lights filling the space. You leaned against the cool wall, willing yourself not to cry, but the tears pricked at your eyes anyway. The guilt, the humiliation, the overwhelming weight of everything—it all felt like too much.

You pushed off the wall and made your way into the nearest bathroom. The door creaked shut behind you, and you stood frozen for a moment before slipping into a stall. Closing the cubicle door, you locked it and sat down on the closed toilet seat, trying to catch your breath. Your hands rested on your lap, trembling slightly as you stared at the tiled floor, your mind racing with the words and stares from earlier.

The silence was short-lived.

The bathroom door swung open, and the sound of footsteps echoed across the tiles. You heard the faint hum of conversation as a group of girls entered.

“I mean, it’s messy as hell,” Aisha’s voice cut through the quiet, casual but loud enough to make your stomach twist. “Jeno and Mark? And she’s just… right there in the middle of it all.”

You froze, your heart pounding in your chest as you realized they were talking about you.

“Exactly,” Yiren chimed in, her tone carrying a hint of amusement. “She’s been playing both sides, whether she realizes it or not. Like, come on, you don’t get in the middle of something like that and act innocent.”

Chaeyoung’s voice joined the conversation, softer but no less cutting. “I mean, people are going to talk. She’s kind of brought it on herself, don’t you think? Dating Jeno first and then Mark? It’s messy, and it looks bad. Of course people are going to notice.”

You clenched your fists in your lap, your nails digging into your palms as the words echoed around you. Each comment felt like a blow, the knot in your chest tightening with every passing second.

But then, Karina’s voice cut through, sharp and firm. “That’s enough.”

The room fell silent for a moment, the tension palpable even from your hidden vantage point.

“What?” Aisha asked, her tone defensive but cautious.

“You don’t know what you’re talking about,” Karina snapped, her voice carrying an edge of frustration. “Mark and Jeno have had problems for ages—long before she was in the picture. This isn’t on her.”

“But still,” Yiren argued weakly, “she’s kind of—”

“She’s kind of what?” Karina interrupted, her tone icy. “Trying to live her life while everyone judges her for shit she can’t control? Seriously, do you even hear yourselves?”

There was a pause, the kind of awkward silence that came when people realized they’d been called out.

“I’m just saying, it looks bad,” Chaeyoung mumbled.

Karina didn’t back down. “And maybe it wouldn’t look so bad if everyone minded their own business instead of turning her life into gossip. You don’t know what she’s dealing with. So just drop it.”

The other girls muttered faintly, their tones subdued now. After a moment, you heard the shuffle of footsteps as they made their way out of the bathroom, the door swinging shut behind them.

You stayed in the stall, frozen, your breath shaky as you tried to process what you’d just heard. Karina had defended you—fiercely, unapologetically—even though you hadn’t expected her to. Even with all the tension between you two lately, she had stood up for you when you weren’t there to do it yourself.

The lump in your throat returned, but it wasn’t entirely from sadness this time. It was something else—a mix of relief and gratitude that left your chest aching.

You stayed in the stall for a few more moments, letting the quiet wash over you, before finally standing and unlocking the door. Your reflection in the mirror looked just as tired as you felt, but there was a flicker of something steadier now, a tiny spark of strength.

Karina’s words lingered in your mind as you splashed cold water on your face, steadying yourself for whatever came next.

You left the bathroom quietly, making sure no one saw you as you slipped back into the empty hallway. You wandered aimlessly until your feet carried you toward the far end of the gym, where you hoped to find Mark. You needed him. Even if you couldn’t explain everything, even if you couldn’t ask him to fix this, you needed him. 

But as you rounded the corner, you stopped in your tracks.

Mark and Jeno were standing near the vending machines, their voices low but tense. You couldn’t make out every word, but their body language spoke volumes. Mark’s arms were crossed tightly over his chest, his jaw set, while Jeno gestured sharply, his expression hard.

You lingered at the edge of the hallway, torn between stepping forward and retreating. The sight of them talking���arguing, maybe—only made the knot in your stomach tighten. You pressed a hand to your chest, trying to steady the ache, but it refused to go away.

For now, all you could do was watch, your heart sinking further as their conversation continued, the tension between them refusing to break.

Mark stood with his arms crossed tightly over his chest, his jaw set in a way that made his frustration painfully evident. His stance was defensive but grounded, like he was trying to maintain control of his emotions. Jeno, on the other hand, was a storm. His hands gesture wildly, his tone laced with bitterness and anger, his words cutting even from a distance.

“I started to see you as my brother,” Jeno said, his voice trembling slightly with an edge of anger. “I actually thought we could finally be something after all these years. I thought maybe we could be close, that the distance and bullshit between us didn’t matter anymore. I fucking believed you, Mark. I believed you over my dad.”

Mark’s brows furrowed, his expression softening just slightly. “And we still can be,” he said, his voice even, like he was trying to diffuse the situation before it spiraled further. “We can still be brothers. Nothing has to change, man.”

Jeno’s laugh was short and bitter, the sound echoing in the. “I didn’t believe my dad when he warned me,” Jeno said, his voice low and full of venom. “He told me you’d try to take everything from me—my spot on the team, my friends, my life…” He paused, his eyes narrowing as he leaned slightly closer. “My fucking girl.”

Mark’s laugh came suddenly, cutting through the tension like a crack of lightning. It was sharp and humorless, a sound so unlike him that it sent a chill down your spine. “You mean my girl?” he said, his voice dropping into something almost possessive. He tilted his head slightly, his expression unreadable but his tone unmistakably clear. “She was never yours to begin with, Jeno. Not in the way that matters.”

Jeno’s hands balled into fists at his sides, his face twisting with a mix of anger and disbelief. “Don’t bullshit me,” he hissed, his voice sharp and cutting. “You want to stand there and act like this wasn’t about proving a point? Like you didn’t look at her and see another chance to one-up me? To take what was mine?” You just want to prove that nothing I have is safe from you, that you can take away anything I value.”

“You know what?” Jeno continued, his voice rising slightly. “Congratulations, Mark. How does it feel to live in the shoes of the better Lee brother? The one our dad always picked over you? You’ve finally got it all, haven’t you?”

Mark laughed. It wasn’t a happy laugh—it was sharp, humorless, full of disbelief. “You’re so full of shit,” he said, shaking his head. “You really believe this, don’t you? That I’m living to compete with you?”

Jeno crossed his arms, raising an eyebrow. “Aren’t you?”

Mark’s response came quickly, his tone hardening. “Believe whatever you want to. At least I’m not drowning in my insecurities. If you think I stole Y/N from you, then yeah, you definitely feel threatened by me, huh?”

The words hit you like a freight train.

Your chest tightened painfully, and your breath caught as Mark’s voice echoed in your mind. You hope he didn’t mean it but the laugh, the lack of a direct denial, the way he didn’t defend you against Jeno’s accusations—it was like a knife to your already fragile heart.

The cheerleaders’ voices echoed in your mind, their careless words stacking like bricks on the weight pressing against your chest. Their gossip, so casual and cutting, played on a loop: how you and Mark were probably just a fling, how messy the situation was, how someone like Mark could have anyone he wanted. But it was his best friend’s earlier comment that hit the hardest, resurfacing now with sharper edges: the observation that it wasn’t like Mark to move so fast into a relationship. The weight of those words settled heavily, twisting your insecurities further, feeding the voice in your head that whispered Mark’s feelings might not run as deep as yours.

Your thoughts spiraled uncontrollably, your dark mind overpowering the light and love you’d been holding onto. Maybe it was true. Maybe Mark didn’t really love you. Maybe this was all some petty way of proving a point to Jeno. The laugh—the way he hadn’t argued against the insinuation—it felt like confirmation.

Your chest heaved as anxiety clawed its way through you, your heartbeat thunderous in your ears. You pressed a hand to your chest, trying to steady the ache, but it refused to go away.

You wanted to burst into the conversation, to scream that they were both wrong, that you weren’t some trophy for either of them to fight over. But your legs refused to move, your throat constricted too tightly to form words.

Mark’s voice brought you back to the present. “You think I care about what you or anyone else thinks?” he said, his tone steady but cold. “You’ve always been so focused on yourself, Jeno, that you can’t see the bigger picture. None of this is about you.”

But to you, it felt like it was. Every word they said cut deeper, even the ones meant to shut Jeno down. Your mind twisted them into something else, something cruel, something that made you feel smaller and more insignificant than ever.

His voice rose slightly, trembling with barely contained frustration, as if every word was dragging up years of resentment he’d kept buried. “All she fucking is to you is a trophy. Another way to show me you’re better. You started screwing around with her behind my back when I was still seeing her. So don’t stand there and play innocent. At least admit it.”

Mark shifted his weight slightly, his hands dropping to his sides as he took a step forward. His voice was quieter now, but no less firm. “Not this fucking broken record again,” he said, a hard edge to his tone. “You fucking broke her heart, Jeno. That’s when we started seeing each other. Don’t twist the narrative just to fit your sob story.”

Jeno’s bitter laugh returned, loud and sharp, his disbelief pouring out of him like a broken dam. “Yeah, because you’re just the fucking hero in all this, aren’t you?” he spat. “You swooped in to save her when I couldn’t. You’ve been waiting for your chance, haven’t you?”

Mark stood frozen for a moment, his jaw tightening as Jeno’s words hung in the air. The silence stretched unbearably, and you could feel your chest tighten, your pulse quickening in the stillness. When Mark finally moved, it wasn’t with the fire or frustration you expected. Instead, he let out a slow exhale, dragging a hand down his face before looking back at Jeno with an unreadable expression.

“Think what you want,” he said quietly, his tone clipped, the words stripped of any emotion. “I’m not here to argue with you.”

Your heart sank.

He didn’t deny it. Not outright. Not in the way you’d desperately hoped he would.

Mark’s posture shifted slightly, his arms falling loosely to his sides, his shoulders tense but no longer squared. He wasn’t leaning forward to make his case, wasn’t stepping into Jeno’s space to defend himself or you. He just… stood there, letting Jeno’s accusations settle like they didn’t matter enough to correct.

“I don’t owe you anything,” he added, his voice low and deliberate.

Your breath hitched. The words felt like a dismissal, not just of Jeno but of everything—of you, of your relationship, of all the things you thought he might stand up for.

Jeno scoffed, shaking his head in disbelief, but you barely registered it. Your attention was fixed on Mark, on every subtle movement, every microexpression that your anxiety twisted into something damning. The way his eyes darted briefly to the side before meeting Jeno’s gaze again. The way his hands flexed at his sides like he was holding something back. The way he didn’t rush to correct the narrative, didn’t immediately say what you needed to hear.

Your thoughts spiraled, crashing into one another in a wave of self-doubt and dread. Maybe this was true. Maybe Mark didn’t care enough to argue because there was nothing to defend. Maybe he had seen you as something to win, another way to prove he was better than Jeno.

Why isn’t he saying more? Why isn’t he stopping this?

Mark’s gaze flicked briefly in your direction—so quick, so subtle, you weren’t sure if he’d actually seen you. But it didn’t matter. He didn’t call out, didn’t soften, didn’t come to find you. He turned back to Jeno with the same detached calm, his voice cutting through your spiralling thoughts.

“Believe whatever helps you sleep at night,” he said, his tone almost disinterested. “If it makes you feel better to think I took something from you, fine. But don’t blame me for the things you lost on your own.”

The words hit hard—not just because of what they meant for Jeno, but because of what they didn’t mean for you. Jeno’s accusations and Mark’s responses felt deeply rooted in their rivalry, a tug-of-war between their insecurities and unresolved history. But none of it felt like it was about you, not really. Mark didn’t defend you, didn’t affirm your place in his life, didn’t even acknowledge the accusations for how they might affect you. 

Instead, his words were focused on shutting down Jeno’s insecurities, on countering his claims, and that made it feel like you were just a symbol in their conflict—another thing for them to fight over. You wanted Mark to say something for you, to fight for you, to make it clear that you weren’t just caught in the crossfire of their issues. But he didn’t. And in the silence, your anxiety whispered the worst possible answer: Maybe you were never the point at all.

You pressed a hand to your chest, trying to steady your breathing, but the ache wouldn’t go away. Your brain latched onto every little thing—the way Mark’s tone lacked warmth, the way he avoided direct confrontation, the way he didn’t once defend your relationship. It felt like confirmation of everything you feared, even if logic tried to tell you otherwise.

He didn’t fight for you.

Your hands trembled as you stepped back, the sound of their voices fading into the background as your thoughts drowned out everything else. You didn’t know how long you stood there, watching, waiting for something that never came. But when Mark finally turned his back to Jeno and walked toward the vending machine without another word, your heart clenched painfully, and you knew you couldn’t stay any longer.

You turned and slipped quietly down the hall, your legs heavy and unsteady as you tried to make sense of the weight crushing your chest. Every breath felt harder than the last, every thought louder, more invasive. You didn’t want to think it, but you couldn’t stop yourself.

Maybe Jeno was right. Maybe Mark never loved you at all.

authors note — hi loves! if you’ve made it this far, thank you so much for reading! it truly means the world to me. i poured so much effort into this, so if you could take just a moment to send an ask or leave a message sharing your thoughts, it would mean everything. your interactions—whether it’s sending an ask, your feedback, a comment, or just saying hi—give me so much motivation to keep writing. i’m always so happy to respond to messages, asks and comments so don’t be shy! thank you from the bottom of my heart! <3

taglist — @bigjugz03 @hyuckkklee @hegdus @sungchannel @kidult0325 @hcluvie @second-floors @xjxnox @keelbeel @hyuckkklee @ahgasezennie @lovetaroandtaemin @steadyparkjisungbookishspy @carelessshootanonymous @remgeolli @toroufriteh @sinsgaybutthatsokay @fancypeacepersona @cathamada @gomdoleemyson @ppeachyttae @strcwberi @yunjinsart @millyswife

[luviestarz]

mark lee fic recs!

⪩⪨ Operation: First Kiss - @ncityrave (Mark turns to his friends for help to build up the courage for his relationship's first kiss.)

⪩⪨ Sunday Kind of Love : Frat Mark - @smileysuh (Mark is fine with having a crush on the girl in the library. He’s fine watching her from afar. And he’s fine with never speaking a word to the girl who he spends many nights chasing in his dreams. But fate, and a few nosey frat brothers, think Mark would be much better if he was forced to talk to the cute girl from the library that he can’t seem to get out of his head.)

⪩⪨ tis the damn season - mark smau - @najaemism (in which your ex-boyfriend comes back to your hometown—and he wants to talk to you.)

⪩⪨ Delphinium - @ncteez (It wasn’t intentional. You don’t even know why you cared that he didn’t believe in pre-marital sex, but it didn’t stop you from arguing with him about it. You didn’t intend to win the argument either. Then again, he kind of let you.)

⪩⪨ 9:10 PM - @neochan (possessive! mark)

⪩⪨ WITH YOU | MK.L - @sehunniepotwrites (There are many things Mark Lee wants to do with you. He wants to walk you home. He wants to dive into the deep blue sea with you. He wants to go on a drive with you at his side. But mostly, this crazy, head over heels in love boy just wants to make it with you.)

⪩⪨ spidey boy ; 이민형 - @martiniblues (mark has tried to hide his secret identity from you for as long as possible, to keep you safe, of course. little does he know that you’ve untangled his web of lies long ago and will do anything in your power to get him to admit it. just when you've had enough of him lying to you, he ends up getting caught in the act trying to save your life.)

⪩⪨ eyes on me. (m.l) - @mrkis (mark wants you to keep your eyes on him as he pleases you.)

⪩⪨ GOLDEN HOUR. | L.MK - @onyourhyuck (You’re a waiter and Mark Lee the local biker and infamous bad boy loves the eggs your diner makes, but now he wants a taste of you.)

⪩⪨ madly in love - mark lee - @p0ckykiss (mark had always been the hopeless romantic type)

⪩⪨ it’s too bad you’re married to me | m.l - @yojeongin (all mark ever does is use weaponized incompetence to get out of small tasks you ask of him. when he finally realizes you resort to his close friends to do what he can’t— nothing can prepare him for what’s in your pandora box; now karma is set in motion.)

⪩⪨ Pretty Boy. (m.l) - @ncteez (Mark’s favorite thing to do is sit alone at the library and enjoy the knowledge that his university offers. In contrast, your favorite thing to do is go to parties and enjoy as much chaos as possible. However, upon realizing your grades have dropped drastically due to this lifestyle, you have no choice but to approach Mark for help. or the one where your new favorite thing to do is seduce the most inexperienced man you’ve ever met and watch how desperate he gets for you.)

⪩⪨ gelato | lmk - @hazyhae (a high slip up cost you mark lee years ago, and you’ve spent years burying your memories of him ever since. the universe has other plans for you when your old friend starts a new career, smoking his way back into your life.)

⪩⪨ ꒰ 𝐍𝐎 𝐎𝐍𝐄 𝐁𝐔𝐓 𝐘𝐎𝐔 ꒱ 이민형 - @loserlvrss (one thing about your boyfriend, mark, is that he would always take care of you — even if you were annoyingly drunk — and he was embarrassingly in love)

[ohmygs-blog]

i loveddd the dirty joke texts with mark and would totally love another partttt 🙈🙈

bf mark vii.

[markresonates]

two hot

summary: for some reason, your body requires more than one alpha to satiate your needs in heat, leading Mark to seek assistance from his best friend when you unexpectedly start going into heat in public.

pairing: alpha bf!Mark x omega!fem reader x alpha!Haechan

other: alphas Jen & Jis lil voy

genre/trope: porn w/ lil plot, tiny fluff bc i'm soft; omegaverse, fake medical conditions as a plot device; (eventual poly, not jealous love tri)

word count: 8.8k

a/n: so here's that markhyuck omega heat sex threesome idea i mentioned a while ago...per usual, it’s longer than i said why am i the way i am so i’m splitting it into 2 pts!

warnings: rough unprotected sex, oral (fem receiving), cock warming, manhandling, exhibitionism & extremely public, voyeurism, humiliation, lil dumbification, overstimulation, degradation & praise, spitting, stomach bulge, cum inflation, knotting, oral fixation reader, breeding & creampie kinks; sweet hard dom Mark & hard dom Haechan, super sub reader [ note – heat sex is categorized as dubcon; therefore, read at your own discretion ]

You thought you had more time. You should have had more time. 

About an hour into your new Introduction to Astronomy lecture, your waning attention span is fully disrupted by a suspicious wetness you feel between your thighs. You uncross your legs and casually glance down, heart dropping when you discover a small pool of glossy slick in the middle of your lecture hall seat, heralding the start of your heat.

it’s official: life fucking hates you. 

Rationally, you’re aware of the fact that you need to formulate a plan but as you shift in your seat, your train of thought is derailed by the sensation sparked between your legs. You clench your jaw and grind your teeth together, forbidding your mouth from vocalizing the shred of gratification you get from squirming in your seat. 

Of all the damn days to pair a bodysuit and a pleated mini skirt, this day has got to be the absolute worst. But of course it had to be warm enough today that you felt comfortable showing more skin. In your mind, it made sense to seize the favorable weather before the last remnants of Summer disappeared into a chilly Autumn, but now you’d rather be bundled in three thick layers and sweating buckets than vulnerable in your current attire.

While you arch your back and discreetly grind against the messy chair, the bodysuit stretches, progressively sliding up your abdomen, and bunching at your waist. The damp material tugs on your hood, a second later, your clit is subjected to rough stimulation directly. Intense tingles ripple through your core from the sensitive spot. Even with your lips pressed together, you can’t suppress the tiny high-pitched squeak in your throat.

Renjun angles his laptop towards you, quickly typing out are you okay? 

You freeze your body. Giving him a terse nod, you rid yourself of the unwanted attention and resume the lewd activity. It takes a mere 30 seconds for your folds to eat up the narrow strips of material that once covered your intimate parts, giving your slick pussy a wedgie. It’s uncomfortably restrictive, and yet, simultaneously a massive turn on. 

You should be more concerned but the torturous pressure feels too good to stop, restraint briefly suspended again in a pleasured daze, chasing the desired pulsating sensation. Your eyes pop out of your head hearing the small metal snap of your bodysuit’s crotch region pop open, exposing your panties underneath and instantly bringing you back to reality. 

Jisung ducks his head near your ear. “Hey, what’s that-?”

“What’s what?” you immediately cut him off, worried he heard the same noise.

He hums, pursing his lips. “What’s that smell?”

“uh, well…” 

You gulp, so mortified that it’s impossible to meet his eyes, embarrassment warming your cheeks, your heat cranking up the bubbling sensation within you.

This shouldn’t be happening. You’ve documented your heat cycle since the day you started taking suppressants years ago. If you left it up to nature, your heat would be a seasonal affair. Now, thanks to the convenience of modern-day medicine, taking one daily pill significantly lowers your heat cycle frequency to biannually.

It’s always been consistent enough that you could pinpoint the exact 48 hour period in which it would start. In fact, a series of predetermined dates are highlighted on your desk calendar for when you’re supposed to be in heat: over four months from now.

Your scent is detectable in two ways: if someone were to press their nose directly to your scent gland, or the significantly more potent way, through the profuse slick secretion omegas produce in heat. 

And given the fact that you’re practically sitting in a puddle of slick at the moment, panic is knocking at your front door with fever. Any alpha in a ten foot radius will soon smell the arousing nectar leaking out of you. 

Fortunately, you’re in the last row of a half empty lecture hall. Rather than a dozen alphas, it’s a handful of the closest ones that’ll be raising their noses to get a whiff of the fragrant aroma floating through the air, two of those alphas being your friends.

Jisung sniffs around curiously, even going so far as to lean forward, over where Jeno is sitting directly in front of you.

“Hmm, it’s, like, sweet and fruity. Do you smell it? Like raspberries…or maybe strawberries?”

Renjun stops typing notes on his laptop. “I don’t smell anything.”

Figures; betas like Renjun don’t detect omega scents until they are at the absolute peak of their heat, and even then it wouldn’t be very strong. 

“Also, for your information, raspberries and strawberries aren’t berries.”

“Wha- Really!?” 

“Yeah. Most fruits that end in ‘berry’ aren’t actually berries, botanically speaking.”

“Um, Renjun?” you try to grab his attention in a hushed voice, failing as a result of Jisung talking over you at the same instant.

Besides your first heat, you’ve always been well prepared. You take preventative measures against potential alphas who may smell you and want to take advantage of a heat-drunk omega. 

Your typical protocol entails remaining holed up in your dark room. The mini fridge by your desk is fully stocked with four days worth of food and beverages, the air conditioner is on full blast, curtains and blinds drawn closed. Your door is secured shut with three bolted locks too.

For your past few heats, Mark has locked himself up with you as well. Being an omega, it was of vital importance to find a trustworthy alpha that wouldn’t savagely take advantage of your heat-induced instinctual nature to follow an alpha’s orders. The whole reason you submit to Mark is because you know he would never take things too far. For your past two heats, Mark was knotting you until his exhaustion proved overwhelming, and he physically couldn’t use his big dick any longer. Basically, your alpha can’t go far enough, for some indiscernible reason.

Based on the increasing amount of slick and the new ache in your core, you’d estimate you have less than an hour before your heat will seriously start affecting your senses. There’s a reason you keep track of your heat cycle, and it’s to avoid horrendous situations like this one. 

You’re struck with uncertainty and a minor sense of helplessness, facing your worst nightmare alone. At the moment, you don’t have Mark by your side, protecting you from other predatory alphas, ensuring you eat and drink something when you’re too out of it to do so yourself; and most importantly, pleasuring you to take away the pain that comes with your extreme heat cramps. 

You need Mark. 

Mouth beginning to water, deep in your filthy thoughts, you don’t register the conversation around you. You imagine him taking care of you in this very lecture hall, bent over the sturdy wooden podium at the front of the class.

You’re preoccupied and perplexed, a fraction of you developing a peculiarly strong craving for a knot – any knot. Considering how fast your heat crept up on you in the first place, you have every reason to believe this craving will continue to intensify. You feel ashamed to admit it, but at this rate, you might just find yourself allowing any alpha to knot you. 

Jisungs face scrunches up in disbelief, hearing another botanical fun fact. “No way. You’re trying to tell me bananas are berries? I don’t believe you.”

Jeno snorts, barely peering over his shoulder to throw his two cents into the hushed conversation. “Why are you arguing with Renjun? When was the last time you ate a fruit?”

“I don’t know. When was the last time you didn’t fall asleep at 6 am?” Jisung grumbles, not-so-quietly as he intended. 

If they weren’t in a classroom setting, Jisung would’ve hidden behind Renjun or grabbed something to shield himself from the other alpha’s wrath. Jeno fully twists his torso around, dawning a toothy grin that spells trouble for the youngest in the near future. He opens his mouth to speak but ultimately falls silent.

The lecture hall’s desks are the type that flip down to hover over half of your lap. With only your right thigh covered, Jeno’s eyes flick down to where you've been looking. 

He zeros in on the source of the fruity scent Jisung was referencing. He drops his smile, licking his lips, dark pupils flashing candy apple red. The other two shift their attention to your lap in quick succession.

Initially, Jisung doesn’t see what they do from his position. His curiosity then leads the naive boy to bend his upper body down and inch forward. Finally granted a vantage point to peer between your legs, his face turns a shade that matches the berries he spoke of a minute ago.  

“Uh, y/n? Are you, um, in-” Jisung stutters, his bright eyes locked between your parted thighs. 

Both alphas stare, mystified by the sight of your drenched panties, the thin white material now see-through and doing nothing to stop you from making a mess in the center of the lecture hall chair. Lifting your head, you see Jeno’s pupils fully dilated, swirling with lust, and you imagine Jisung isn’t too far off, mirroring the older alpha. 

You belatedly try to snap your thighs together but Jisung, of all people, latches onto your inner knee and keeps most of your seeping slit on display for them. His fingers digs into your soft skin in an uncharacteristically possessive manner, while Jeno quietly growls. 

They’re increasingly aroused hearing a spurt of your slick gush from your core, discovering you to be turned on by your own humiliation. You softly whine, embarrassed beyond all possible belief. 

“What happened to decorum, huh?” the beta scolds the younger alphas. 

Jisung snaps out of it and rips his hand away so fast it hits his desk. “Ow!”

“Acting like you just presented and never smelled slick before? Ugh. Get a fucking grip, you guys.” 

Renjun sets his phone on his desk, angling it towards you to show his screen and you tune out the apology from the frazzled boy on your right. “Hey, so I texted Mark. The good news is he’s on his way.” 

You exhale in relief. “Okay. Wait, what’s the bad news?”

Renjun winces, reluctant to kill your newly kindled hope. “Well…he said it’ll probably take him a half hour to get here.”

“A half hour?” 

You snap your tongue, loathing today’s dreaded turn of events. You squeeze your eyes shut to fight off the tears threatening to stain your burning cheeks.

“Oh, hold on.” Renjun scans the new message from your boyfriend, rereading it in his head, triple checking the text before delivering the additional details. “He said he’s…sending someone to get you? And they’ll be here in a dozen minutes or so.”

You furrow your brow, confused. “Who?” 

“Dunno, he didn't say.” Renjun shoots him another text, asking for the identity of this mystery person he’s referring to. 

You stare at his phone intently, beads of sweat forming on the back of your neck and haloing your hairline. Renjun taps the dim screen to keep it from turning off.

As you impatiently wait for an answer, your old nervous habit of picking and biting your nails resurfaces. You peel part of your nail off and fixate on the minor self-inflicted sting for the sake of a distraction from your intimate regions pulsating with arousal, not to mention the graphic, x-rated imagery about how easily you’d bend over for alphas in your vicinity.

Renjun lifts the back of his hand to your feverish forehead, the worry on his face deepening into his soft features. “Don’t take this the wrong way, y/n, but why did you come to class if you were in pre-heat?”

“When I left my apartment this morning, I didn’t fucking feel like I was in pre-heat,” you hiss through clenched teeth. 

You ring your head low and swallow your bad temperament as the harsh tone reaches your ears. You cringe, barely recognizing your own voice.

“I’m sorry. I’m just frustrated because I don’t know what’s going on. I shouldn’t take it out on you though.”

“No, it’s fine, I get it. You’re stressed out.” Renjun gives you a sympathetic look, equally as confused by your body as you are. “Well this explains why you wore that today.”

“What do you mean?”

Renjun clicks on the weather app to show you the temperature outside. “Because it’s cold today. But if you were really warm, the temperature outside wouldn’t have bothered you.”

“Ugh, oh my god. You’re right,” you reply, mentally slapping your forehead for not actually checking the forecast for today. Simply put, you believed you knew better, based on how warm your room felt when you got out of bed this morning.

You hold your abdomen and apply minimal pressure there, preparing for the onset of pain when your cramps start up, just like the bad habit responsible for the new drop of blood swelling at the tip of your finger. 

Jisung is quick to dig into his messy backpack and procure a quick fix for any minor injuries. It’s clear that he’s trying to be as helpful as possible, still feeling terribly guilty for holding your thighs open and preventing you from hiding what was visible to him and Jeno through your thin panties. 

You dab the blood with the folded tissue he hands you, and then wrap the blue and green, dinosaur themed band-aid around your finger. “Thank you,” you whisper to Jisung sincerely, touching his arm to express gratitude. 

You don’t blame the guilt-ridden alpha too much. After watching your pussy leak slick through the soaked white material, it was only in his nature to want to breed an omega on the verge of going into heat. The baby alpha Jisung you know and love wouldn’t do that.

Renjun lightly taps the back of your hand when you pick the finger next to the freshly bandaged one. He clasps your hands together, preventing you from doing more damage to that hand, at least. 

You frown at your hypocritical friend who himself hasn’t managed to kick the same bad habit as you. Nonetheless, you appreciate his comforting action. 

“You know, I keep thinking why me? What have I done to deserve this?” You gesture at your thighs with your free hand. “And how am I supposed to last another however many minutes?”

Renjun pauses and sighs. “On second thought, maybe you should go now. It’s way stuffier inside, so it might be a good idea to go splash some water on your face in the bathroom first before whoever Mark sent gets here.”

You hesitate for a second. You're troubled by not only the mess you've made in your seat, but the continual trickle of slick, potentially painting a colorful bullseye on your wet cunt. 

Alphas with practiced, keen olfactory systems can track a scent from a mile away, the express purpose to savagely use the needy omega they find simply because your kind is at its most vulnerable in heat. 

You always knew that omegas drew the short stick in life, but it was only after you had observed Mark’s rut in person that you officially became envious of alphas. An alpha’s number one priority during rut, above food and shelter and anything in between, is to breed omegas. 

They’ll brutally fuck a slick hole for multiple days, repeatedly knotting them until their bun-hungry alpha brain is sure that the omega will deliver them happy, healthy pups. 

Nearly every omega and most alphas take suppressants, making the chances of knocking up an omega less than 0.001% if both partners are medicated. Though, regardless of their incredibly slim chances of conceiving, that does not dissuade a stubborn alpha in rut from attempting to produce offspring. 

During Mark’s last rut, despite the primal need to dominate and fuck your brains out, oddly enough, his stamina weirdly didn’t match yours. 

“Whoever Mark’s sending is supposed to get here any minute, so there’s no real harm in leaving a minute earlier. No one would try anything with you if you’re in a public setting like school,” Renjun assures you and gives your hand one last squeeze. 

“Y/n?” Jisung works up the courage to gently tap your arm like you did his, giving you what remains of the travel size tissue packet that’s been in his backpack for nearly three years. “Don’t worry about the chair. We’ll wipe it off when you leave.”

Jeno guiltily turns around again and apologizes like the younger alpha. He then makes a generous offer to save you the trouble of waiting a second longer to leave for good. 

“I can drive you home now, if you want, y/n. And, you know, if you feel comfortable enough being alone with another alpha…no pressure. It’s just the least I can do.”

“Um, thank you. I think, uh…” 

Fifteen minutes ago, when you had no plan whatsoever and hadn’t been in contact with Mark, you would’ve taken him up on the offer, but Renjun is right. You know that a part of you is really craving a knot. However, you believe you’re lucid enough to handle going to the bathroom by yourself. 

You don’t see yourself jumping at the first opportunity to sit on a throbbing alpha cock, bouncing up and down, pathetically begging them to fill you up with an excessive amount of cum, like you did before. Plus, you don’t want to attract even more unwanted attention if two of you were to stand up and walk out in the middle of the lecture. 

“I think I’m good, Jeno. It’s just around the corner. I’ll be fine.” 

You pick up your bag, tying the varsity jacket that Jeno generously handed to you around your waist. You head for the door, walking at a reasonable speed to not attract more attention than your scent likely has. 

Jeno’s jacket conceals most of the slick running down your inner thighs, and you make a mental note to somehow make it up to him later.

You have almost reached the bathroom when, out of nowhere, you’re ambushed by an alpha, pressed face first against the brick wall of the science building. 

Whoever it is had the sense to slip his hand in front of your heated forehead to break the blow against the wall and not crack your skull open on impact. Obviously, alphas don’t want a dead omega. 

You can’t breed something that’s not breathing.

That’s basic alpha 101.

Your heart rattles in your ribcage, racing a million miles per hour. You wish you were allotted enough time to wipe up your slick before being attacked. 

If only you had accepted Jeno’s offer to be safely escorted, then you wouldn’t be pinned to a wall, hands held behind your back by an alpha presumably relying purely on an animalistic desire.

To make matters worse, being dominated so aggressively triggers a surge of arousal from within your inner omega, the yearning for sexual fulfillment intensifying at a rate higher than in your lecture. 

On instinct, tremendously touch starved, you grind your hips back, pressing your ass against the half-hard cock hidden in the alpha’s pants. 

He leans closer to your ear, pulling the cherry lollipop out of his mouth to whisper in a deep, gravelly voice, “Did somebody miss me?” 

You whimper, timidly, and he chuckles. 

Something possesses you to tilt your head to the side, submissive and craving a knot so damn badly that you’re willing to bare your vulnerable neck for the alpha. 

He hesitates, before nosing at your scent gland, shakily exhaling through his mouth. Presented with such an alluring opportunity, the alpha almost loses his cool, tempted to accept your invitation and take advantage of your omega’s baseline reflex to submit. 

Practicing a degree of restraint that very, very few alphas in his unique position possess, he instead places a single soft kiss to the spot he knows is reserved for Mark’s teeth.

Mark…

You break out of your innate trance as lips that don’t belong to your alpha are still pressed to your neck, the gravity kicking in about what it means to allow a stranger to bite and claim you. 

You can’t imagine what your life would be like as a double claimed omega, shared by two alphas, belonging to both Mark and the mysterious, possessive person behind you. 

You catch him off guard by ripping away. You whip around, snapping your tongue when you finally discover the identity of your attacker. 

“Argh, what the fuck, Haechan?”

You lean back against the solid wall, holding a hand over your chest as if your heart is on the brink of bursting through the slats of your ribs. 

“Did you have to give me a heart attack? What happened to saying hello, hm?”

He snickers, a melodious, infectious laugh that makes you want to smile as well. This time, with tremendous effort, you hold your ground. 

“What’s the fun in that, sweetheart?” he says, sticking the candy back in his mouth.

You wish you could chase away the butterflies in your stomach that are consistently conjured up when his designated pet name for you rolls off his silver tongue. You’ve seen Haechan flirt with countless girls, yet he’s always reserved “sweetheart” and “sweetie” for his favorite omega. 

You can’t describe why hearing his pet names excites you, inappropriately so. Perhaps, you like feeling special to him in some way, his sugar-coated sweet tooth reserved for you and you only.

Mark knows all of this.

He would have to be both blind and deaf to not see Haechan’s effect on your body and pick up on the sound of your heart racing. His charming best friend is frustratingly swoon worthy, but Mark had never minded it much. A case can be made that Mark is the jealous type. It’s for this very reason you find it so curious that he allows Haechan to get away with openly flirting with his omega.

“Why are you even-?” 

You freeze as he wipes a tear from your cheek, trailing the back of his fingers along the side of your face and down your neck. He wraps his hand behind your neck with his thumb pressing into where your pulse is fluttering rapidly, tucking the lollipop into the side of his cheek to speak.

“Shh, take deep breaths for me, baby. In…out…in…out.” 

The alpha’s instruction marginally calms your nerves, your omega instincts compelling you to follow without question. You are obedient and malleable, most especially in heat, for Haechan and your own alpha, of course.

“Good girl.” His praise has you biting your lip, whining softly. “Renjun probably told you but Mark’s on his way. He sent me to take care of you first.”

“Oh,” you reply, dumbly. 

You should have suspected that Mark would send him to pick you up. It’s obvious in retrospect. He trusts Haechan with his life; by extension, he would have total faith in his best friend to handle you too.

“Yeah, oh,” he mimics with an annoyingly charming curl of his heart shaped lips. 

Haechan basically gets off on annoying people, although his form of teasing you differs from others. Plus, you never fail to give him the reaction he’s searching for, playfully rolling your eyes, quietly snapping your tongue, or throwing some weak comeback in return. 

“Are you disappointed to see me, y/n? I know you're Mark’s princess but you’ll just have to settle for me this time.”

“Wow, how noble of you. My hero,” you reply, sarcastically. “Can we go now?”

“By all means, lead the way, sweetheart.”

Right on queue, you roll your eyes, just like he knew you would. You take a few steps in the direction he gestures to before the first heat cramp punctures your core. Luckily, Haechan catches your body as your knees buckle, doubling over in pain. 

Haechan clears his throat. “Y/n, you should know that Mark didn’t just send me here to pick you up,” he says cryptically, unpocketing his phone. 

He proceeds to play a voicemail Mark left him. You listen with pursed lips, furrowing your brow as you take in your alpha’s words. 

You try to concentrate on the message, partially distracted by Haechan’s scent swirling around you, quickly permeating your skin and thoughts. 

“Hyuck, you’re the only alpha I completely trust to take care of y/n like that…and by that, you know what I mean. And don’t be surprised if she, like, starts to beg for it. She can be realllly needy, trust me.”

There’s a spike in Haechan’s scent, reminded of his personal mission to hear you beg. 

Despite not having kissed him, you can taste him on your lips. His all-encompassing spicy musk intensifies, melting into a subtle syrupy vanilla that clings to your tongue and stirs up a hunger for forbidden fruit. The cherry candy is no match to his natural scent.

“Oh! One more thing. y/n likes it a bit, um, rough when she’s in heat…so just keep that in mind. I’ll be there as soon as possible, dude. 40 minutes tops. Alright, see you then.”

Haechan looks at you, searching for a reaction, but instead, he sees your face contort painfully again. 

“Sweetie, look at me.” 

You turn your head, now within proximity to count all the pretty moles on his sun-kissed face, like sunflower seeds you’re tempted to taste and swallow by the handful until you’re physically ill. 

“Do you want…” 

You straighten your back again, a chill running up your spine as Haechan slowly reaches under your skirt. He drags his hand up the inside of your thigh. The tips of his fingers draw through the many lines of slick dripping down your legs.

“…my help?” he finishes in a tone deeper than you knew he could produce. 

Your cheeks and ears burn with embarrassment, feeling another mini rush of wetness soak the utterly useless material covering your throbbing core. There’s no denying that you’re incredibly aroused by Haechan. He knows you know he can smell the gush of new slick you involuntarily released.

A strong sexual desire pumps through your veins, driving you up the walls. You’ve always been curious about what it would be like to have the alpha ruin you and use your body like a toy, but you’re not certain how much of that can be attributed to being on the verge of heat. For better or for worse, you decide that that’s a problem for future you to determine, and present you to toss out the window. 

Tasting a mere crumb of Haechan’s touch wasn’t enough – you had to swallow him whole, and the only way you could do that is by giving him the pleasure of devouring you first. 

“y-yes, please.” 

Your answer is so faint that if he were any farther away, he wouldn’t have heard it. 

Haechan suppresses a smug smile, pleasantly surprised to get your first “please” this soon after catching up with you. 

“That’s what I thought, sweetheart.”

His skilled fingers touch where you want him most, grazing over your clothed pussy. Anticipating some kind of pleasured noise, he holds your body close and pops the lollipop inside your mouth. 

He scans your surroundings for a place nearby with any additional smidge of privacy. Locating a possible secluded destination, he steers your weak body in the direction of his choice. Haechan snakes a hand up the front of your skirt again, pressing his thick cock against your ass as you stumble forward. 

Imagining how dirty you must look turns you on, the debauchery of grinding on someone in broad daylight while they have your skirt flipped up to rub over your wet panties has your vision blurring momentarily. Modesty is nothing but a vague concept in the far off distance, seconds away from disappearing over the horizon. 

The next thing you know, your body is pressed against a cool hard surface, bleary eyed and craving the kind of high only a mind blowing orgasm can earn. 

You vaguely recognize you’re behind the science building you came out of before Haechan ambushed you, escaping the bright rays of burning sun that were beating down on you by slinking into the secluded shadows with the golden, silky voiced alpha.

Your skirt rides up as he shoves a knee between your legs. He gets a firm grip on your hips as you grind down against his thigh, soaking the material of his skinny jeans, creating a wet spot in the denim with your slick.

“Wow, would you look at that? Baby made a mess all over me already. I bet you wanted that, huh? Rubbing your slick on me so people know you’re fucking two alphas?”

You remove the lollipop to refute his provocative claim. “I-I’m not fucking two alphas.”

“Ha, maybe…not yet, anyways. But you want to. Isn’t that right, y/n?”

Your mouth goes dry, tongue rough, throat scratchy like sandpaper. You part your lips to argue with him but nothing comes out. Instead, you insert the lollipop again, sucking on the shrinking round candy, a poor attempt at covering up your original intention.

“Exactly…now, let’s see what we’ve got here.”

Haechan places your clammy hands on either side of his shoulders to ensure you won’t lose your balance, then he lowers himself to crouch in front of you.

“Hold.” He lifts up your skirt, giving you the bottom hem so he can get down to business.

Haechan’s fingers dig between your clothed folds, feeling your slick leak onto his hand. The thin material pushes into your entrance in an unsatisfying way and you whine. 

He tsks his tongue three times, shaking his head. “Just as I suspected.” 

You don’t need a reminder of how wet you are, and yet Haechan still brings his hand up for you to see the wet webbing clinging to the tips of his spread fingers anyways. A small embarrassed noise escapes your mouth. 

“Aw, sweetheart,” he coos, using his thumb to toy with your clit, “you look so adorable when you’re embarrassed. All rosy-cheeked and messy.”

Haechan slides your panties down your legs and you cooperate by stepping out of them, hands still anchored to his shoulders. He brings them to his face and licks off a great majority of the wetness that seeped out of you, peering into your soul as he does so. Your lips form a slight pout, missing his touch.

“Ha, Mark was right. You are a needy omega,” he teases and pockets your panties like a trophy he’ll proudly keep forever. 

“What would Mark say if he saw his precious omega barring her neck for a total stranger?” 

You softly moan a bit louder as he curls his fingers just right. Your knees wobble, struggling to stay upright. 

The image of the alpha ravaging your body while Mark watches the act unfold, makes it difficult to focus on your surroundings, distracting you from the minor degree of shame in your chest. 

You couldn’t care less about your indecent exposure at the moment either – you feel too good to care about anything. 

“H-haechan…I want you…want you so fucking bad,” you breathe out, words slightly slurred with the round candy in your mouth. 

Haechan’s cock twitches, picturing you in tears, your walls struggling to accommodate him. However, he is aware that behind a school building isn’t the most ideal place to take an omega in heat, especially considering the potency of your heavenly scent, steadily increasing. 

Since Mark isn’t here yet, the least he could do is take you inside the building.

Your slick seeps into the frontside of Haechan’s clothes, clinging to his upper body for dear life as he carries you into an empty classroom. He sets you down on the lab table and observes the damage to his clothes.

“i-i’m sorry about that.” You lean back, peering down at your lap, nervously.

“Oh, baby…c’mere.”

Haechan cups over your knees and tilts forward to kiss your neck, sucking a dark hickey right next to your mating mark from his best friend. 

“I like collecting these little spots from you.” He pries your thighs apart and draws closer to your bare pussy.

“It’s cute that your body can’t help but mark me somehow.” 

He gets on his knees, darts his tongue out to swirl around your clit. His fingers prod your slick core and slide inside you, stroking your sensitive spot skillfully. The breathy noises he’s rewarded with are ones he’ll remember forever. 

It’s astonishing how quickly Haechan figures you out. 

He’s already in tune with your body, keenly aware of what makes you tick, knowing how to make you quiver and arch your back beautifully. 

Not before long, Haechan has you shaking uncontrollably, squeezing your eyes shut, your short stuttered breathing uneven and shallow as your orgasm peaks, and you topple into an abyss of intense pleasure. The lollipop falls out of your open mouth, rolling off the black table.

You might as well be outside, stargazing in the dead of night based on how many constellations and galaxies twinkle and swirl behind your fluttering eyelids. 

Haechan doesn’t let up on his efforts to overload your system with a tingly static sensation. Sobbing pathetically, you try to bat him away with what little strength you have, overstimulated and overcome with the sizzling heat frying your nerve endings. 

He huffs and retracts his hands, wiping his mouth and the mess of dripping juices on your inner thigh. 

“Okay, fine. I won’t touch you anymore!” he tosses his hands up in the air, melodramatic as ever.

“Finally,” you murmur, granted relief to catch your breath for the first time. 

You’re heavily panting, linking your fingers together and resting your hands atop your head to allow better airflow into your oxygen deprived lungs. He steps back and studies you like a unique specimen for medical observation. 

A few quiet moments pass before the dull cramps creep up inside you, not yet terribly painful but aching in a way that guarantees incoming sharp pains. You whimper for stimulation again, sending puppy dog eyes at Haechan. 

“More…please.”

The alpha’s face is painted with mischief, taunting you by reaching for your body then abruptly stepping back to watch you sniffle, and rock back and forth.

Upon noticing your eyes starting to well up with tears, he ultimately gives in. Haechan curls two and then three fingers inside you, opening you up for his throbbing cock. 

As much as he’d love to see you cry, he’s under strict instruction to satisfy and take care of you. He can’t threaten to not relieve the effects of your heat and tease you to the point of genuine distress.

“Aww, don’t cry, baby. It’s okay, I’ve got you.” 

You let out a breathy moan and make grabby motions to the tent in his pants. 

“Hm, does the cry baby want a knot?” You bite your bottom lip, nodding. “Yeah? Can you use your words? Or is there nothing going on up there in that pretty little head of yours?” 

He lightly taps your forehead twice, then slides that hand up to tangle in your hair.

You smile, shy and small,  and, dare he say, adorable. “You- you think I’m pretty?”

One side of the alpha’s mouth curls up, amused that “pretty” was the only word that you clung onto. He rolls his eyes, teasingly. 

“Of course you’re pretty, y/n.” Haechan removes his hand from your hair to take out his thick cock. “And only the prettiest of girls get this.”

With a newly unveiled salivating incentive, you immediately pull yourself together, spine straight as an arrow. 

You stare at his shiny, precum-glossy cock with heart eyes, licking your lips as he gives himself a few jerks and produces more pearly droplets from his slit. He pushes you back against the lab table when you try to get to your feet for a taste.

“You can choke on my cock later, princess. I thought you wanted a knot? Or did you change your mind?”

“No! I-I do want it,” you frantically reply.

“You sure?”

“Yes, I really want it, Haechan, really badly.” He raises an eyebrow, expecting more. “Please…please, knot me. I wanna be filled with your cum. I’m begging you…breed me, Alpha.”

Breed me, Alpha rings in Haechan’s ears like wedding bells signifying the everlasting bond of a committed partnership. Hearing your sweet voice desperately begging for his seed, using the dominant title you only ever use with Mark, your real alpha, gets Haechan rock hard. 

He savors every second he gets to be your alpha. 

Satisfied with your eloquently worded, pitiful plea, he lines himself up. His shiny cockhead glides through your folds before breaching your dripping entrance. 

“That’s what I thought, sweetheart,” the alpha whispers against your scent gland, his mouth sucking it softly.

 You gasp as he drives his hips forward, forcefully pushing against your tiny hole until you’ve accepted his blunt tip, and sucked his fat cock inside. 

Mark can smell you the second he drives on campus. He rolls his window down to take another alluring whiff, his right hand just barely gripping the bottom of the steering wheel while his left palms the bulge in his snug jeans, tenting obscenely. 

Mind preoccupied, his tunnel vision blinds him from focusing on a single thing besides seeking you out and filling you with loads of cum as soon as possible. He doesn’t recall pulling into the parking lot, getting out of his car, or locking it. All he knows is that, within the blink of an eye, he’s rushed across the campus, his feet landing just outside one of the science labs housed in the same building as your astronomy lecture.

Yanking the door wide open, his wild eyes dart to where his best friend’s knot is locked inside his omega, rubbing your clit so aggressively after your third orgasm that you’re reduced to a twitching mess. 

You don’t immediately recognize Mark’s presence, too lost in the intense buzzing sensation to even register that the alpha barged into the room.

Mark slams the door behind him and purposely leaves the door unlocked like Haechan did. There’s a certain reckless thrill that comes with the possibility of getting caught in a compromising position.

In contrast to the way he raced here, driving haphazardly and disobeying traffic laws, Mark slowly crosses the lab room towards your splayed body in a few, brisk strides. He removes his hard cock from his jeans with a lazy smile, stroking himself and licking his lips as you cry out.

Haechan flicks his chin up at Mark, greeting him happily. He makes a show out of pressing a slick-coated finger against your lips to silence you. 

“Sweetheart, you’ve gotta keep it down. You don’t want everyone next door to hear, right? They’d probably say ‘we should go check on whoever’s crying!’ Only to come in here and find their pretty classmate is a dumb little slut…with a cunt full of cum.” 

You whine, leading him to push two of his dirty fingers into your mouth to shut you up. His smirks as you mindlessly suck on them like a binkie, shutting your eyes and humming pleasantly. 

“She’s so pretty when she cries.”

“I know right?” 

Mark makes a growling noise in the back of his throat as he rubs his hand over where he can see the faint outline of Haechan’s thick knot buried inside you, making your abdomen bulge. Both you and Haechan shutter, feeling a tingly sensation from the pressure your boyfriend applies. 

“So, how’s she been?”

“Well, she-”

“Mar?” you weakly croak around Haechan’s fingers and he removes them.

“I’m here, y/n, I’m right here.” Mark wipes a lone tear of yours away and caresses your warm cheek. “How are you feeling, baby?” 

“I’m…hot.”

“No objection there,” Haechan jokes.

“Why did you send Haechan?” you continue like you didn’t hear the alpha currently plugging you up with cum.

“Oh, y/n. You remember how you were during your last heat.” Mark stops stroking his cock and takes out a tissue to dab away the sheen of sweat on your feverish forehead. 

“Actually, you were probably too far gone, huh?” 

You blink up at him, tilting your head into his hand when he tries to wipe your cheek. If you’re being honest with yourself, you only recall bits and pieces, and none of those memories are exceptionally vivid. 

“I didn’t know it was possible. Like, I looked it up and on average, omegas need to be knotted 5x before their heat breaks. But, y/n, seriously, I lost track of how many times I knotted you and it’s never enough. I couldn’t take care of you throughout all of your heat and it killed me to see you like that and not be able to help you more. You need more than I can give you, princess.” 

He offers you a small genuine smile, his hand trailing down to palm at your exposed breast. Mark gently rolls your nipple between his fingers, hearing you quietly purr. “So Haechan was nice enough to agree to help me help you.”

“But Mark-” 

“It’s for your own good, y/n,” Mark calmly tells you. “And didn’t Haechan make you feel nice?”

“Um, well, I-” 

You gulp, ruminating on how you want to answer, whether you should tell him that another alpha made you feel as amazing as Mark does.  

“Wanna tell me what it’s like to have his knot locked inside that tight little pussy of yours? I know you love being full of my cum. What about his cum? I bet you looove getting fucked full of his cum too, huh?”

“Y-yeah, I love being full of cum…your cum and-and Haechan’s cum.”

Mark smiles at your response and rewards you by pinching your perky nipple. “That’s what I like to hear, baby.”

You whine when Haechan wiggles his mostly deflated cock out of your tight core. “You really weren't lying when you said she gets super wet.”

“Hm, let me feel.” He hums, looking closer and dipping his fingers inside the dripping combination of your fluids. 

Mark widens his nostrils and takes in the aroma of Haechan’s cum mixed in with your juices, his eyes flashing blood red. 

It’s unfamiliar and vaguely off putting to smell his mate has been violated and fucked open by another alpha. Although, overall, the dominant sensation coursing through Mark is arousal, turned on by the thought of sharing your body. 

“Nah, man. It gets worse, you’ll see. Her heat hasn’t even peaked yet.”

Mark addresses Haechan like you aren’t even here. To be fair though, during your heat you’re not all here anyways. 

“W-worse?” you eke.

“By the end of her last heat, she had so much fucking cum in her, I don’t know where it was all going.”

 “Ha, we got ourselves a little cum dumpster here,” Haechan snickers, sliding his fingers inside your cum dribbling cunt again.

With such an overflowing amount of slick and cum, if someone told you that the obscene squelching that fills the room is a soundbite from some high quality pornography, you wouldn’t doubt it. You croon as he curls them up just right, taking a moment to stimulate your most sensitive spot skillfully. 

He retracts them sooner than you’d prefer and brings his fingers to your mouth. “Suck.” 

A fat droplet falls on your bottom lip. 

Mark rubs slow, comforting circles over your abdomen. “Go ahead, baby,” he encourages, leaning down to suckle on your neglected bud. 

Earning Mark’s blessing, you obediently suck your own berry wetness and Haechan’s cum off of the alpha’s fingers.

“God, what a filthy slut,” he says once you’ve fulfilled his wish. “She gives in so easily, she’d do anything to get another load of cum.” 

A weak sound of protest weasels up the back of your throat, disagreeing with the term he used to describe you. You expect Mark to disagree with his best friend’s crude statement, but he shockingly does the opposite.

“Tell me about it, dude. The whole time she’s always begging for a knot and more cum. I know a lot of omegas beg in the middle of their heat…” 

Mark pets your head gently for a second, then snakes his fingers into your hair, giving it a brief yank. 

If you weren’t on the precipice of your heat hitting full force, his sudden action would’ve caused you a decent amount of pain. But by now, your aching body welcomes any form of touch – the rougher the better. The demeaning terms trigger strobing excitement inside you.

“…but with y/n, it’s like where did my sweet omega go? Who’s this needy cumslut?” 

Your bottom lip quivers, internally conflicted by your budding arousal. Mark looks down at you with pity in his eyes.

“Aw, baby,” he coos, “don’t look at me like that. I’m not saying it to be mean, I’m just telling the truth. You don’t know what it’s like trying to take care of you.”

You whine softly, your foggy emotional state making you feel guilty, even if the fraction of you that’s still of sober mind knows that you have nothing to feel guilty for. The seeds of insecurity take root in your head, questioning if he secretly resents being with you, if you’re too much of a burden that he wishes he wasn’t your alpha.

Mark reads the emotional turmoil brewing on your precious face. In an effort to soothe the distress, he quickly leans over to kiss it away. A handful of adoring pecks down your face, lips lightly kissing your forehead twice, the tip of your nose and finally to your lips. He is much gentler now than the hand responsible for the arousing sting to your scalp. Mark tastes the other alpha on your mouth and grins anyway.

“I don’t want you to feel bad about it, y/n.” He again brushes a few stray tears away from where they spill from the corners of your wide, glossy eyes. “I just wanna make sure you’re well taken care of this time.”

“Even without you, I can take care of myself well enough,” you sniffle, lying through your teeth, fooling no one, not even yourself. 

Your hand twitches, wanting to prove a point but hesitating because you're not used to being watched by two sets of eyes. 

“Go ahead and touch yourself, princess. I know you want to,” Mark tells you.

“R-really? Like, um…” You swallow the lump in your throat. “...in front of him too?” 

You sneak a glance at Haechan, who, by the looks of it, is about ready to unhinge his jaw and swallow you whole any second now. You vaguely remember wanting him to do so not too long ago in your most fuzzy heated state.

“Yes, in front of me and Haechan.” 

“Aw, sweetheart. I just fucked your pretty cunt and yet you still feel embarrassed?” Haechan pouts in mock sympathy. “That’s adorable.”

Mark exchanges a look with his best friend before turning back to you. “Be a good girl for me and demonstrate how you used to do it before we met. You can do that, right, babe?” 

An adoring smile reaches his lips, eyes locking with yours. You could try to deny the lewd act, but above all else, you want to please your alpha. 

Mark wants you to be a good girl, and that is exactly what you will be. You gulp, releasing a shaky sigh, and nodding timidly. Your mouth twitches up to mirror his sincere smile as best as you can manage.

“That’s my girl,” Mark beams.

Mark knows how to comfort you, pushing two fingers into your mouth to give you something to wrap your lips around. He gently cups the back of your hand and guides it lower while you’re pleasantly suckling.  

You tilt back, propping your upper body up by extending your left hand behind your back. Folding your spread legs up and planting your heals on the edge of the wide black lab table, exposing your throbbing cunt to the alphas. 

You trace your fingers through your folds, rimming your freshly used entrance before sliding two of them inside, moaning around Mark’s fingers as you follow his instructions. 

Muscle memory of touching yourself on a frequent basis over the years takes charge, and within seconds, you locate your weak spot. 

“There you go. Good girl.”

You mewl, your legs trembling every so often as you draw your fingers up to stimulate your clit. The muscles in your face are equally as prone to a visceral jumpy reaction as your lower half is. 

Craving more, you lay your upper body back against the table, and switch hands to curl your left fingers in your abused pussy and rub quick circles over the hood of your clit, stroking up and down to stimulate every nerve around the electrifying spot. 

“M-mar…” you whimper, drool trailing from your stuffed mouth. “Fuck-fuck me. Please, I n-need your cum now.”

Mark bestows a gentle kiss to the side of your neck. “How about you show me how bad you want it, eh?”

You hop off the table and lower to your knees obediently, folding your legs underneath you and sitting back on your feet, hands placed flat on your thighs, spine arched to show the round curve of your ass.

Haechan whistles. “You sure did train her well.”

“Nah, man. y/n didn’t need training. She’s just a perfect omega.” Mark smiles, happy to show you off. He pets your head as you start to squirm and quietly whimper. 

“Open your mouth, baby.” 

You part your lips, holding your tongue out to catch the spit that falls from Mark’s mouth. He hums, approvingly, watching you swallow it and open your mouth again. He pauses for a second before flicking his chin at Haechan. 

“You want Haechan’s spit too?”

You glance at Haechan and release an affirmative noise a second later. Your core aches for further rough filling again. You rub your slippery thighs together, feeling more slick gush from your throbbing pussy, increasingly aroused when Haechan steps up to the plate. 

He lets a string of saliva dangle from his tongue, slowly dripping into your mouth, and partially dribbling down your chin intentionally, simply because he wants to make a mess of your pretty face.

You're about to wrap your lips around Mark’s cockhead when all of a sudden, the sharpest pain stabs your abdomen. Your jaw drops in a silent scream, crumpling into a ball, squeezing your eyes shut, and nearly blacking out. 

Mark kneels down and rubs your shoulder, lifting your head to look you square in the face. Worry colors his sharp features and shatters the heated, public pornographic fantasy. 

“Shit. y/n’s cramps usually subside for an hour or so after getting a knot,” he mutters to Haechan. “I didn’t want to do this…but I don’t think we have much of a choice now…”

[hint for pt 2]

additional warnings: dr jaem thorough exam, double penetration, spitroasting, oral (fem & male), face sitting, throat fucking, choking, somnophilia, squirting, sex toys, nipple play and breast milking. alright, i think that's it.

it’s 2023.

why did it take me this fucking long to write markhyuck x yn ?? i said i’d write for this pairing in FEB 20 FUCKING 21.

sorry for not posting in forever. the #1 motivation for writers is feedback and interaction. for me, knowing people enjoy my works and appreciate the time i put into something has a huge impact. i'd be really grateful if you shared this by giving it a reblog and would love to see you spam your thoughts/reactions in the tags or comments!

[oct 12th, 2024 update]

pt 2 is about 80% done. now, i'm not saying i WON'T post it in the next week, but comments, reblogs and feedback would definitely inspire me to finish it up soon<3

okay 'tis all. thank you for reading and i hope you (yes, specifically YOU, beloved reader of mine who's reading this RIGHT NOW !) are doing well:))

stream 127's *FACT CHECK*

➾my masterlist

© 𝟐𝟎𝟐𝟑 𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐤𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐨𝐧𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐬, 𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐫𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭𝐬 𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐞𝐫𝐯𝐞𝐝.

[galacticseonghwa]

Mark Lee bf texts pt.3

INCLUDES: swearing, suggestive content, me being literally in love with this man, fluff(?),

a/n: not proofread

[haespoir]

texts w/ stoner bf!mark

it’s not a lot but its smthn!!!

[justwritedreams]

Uncle Marcus | Mark Lee

Domestic!Mark x Reader Genre: pure fluff Word count: 751 Warnings: mention of wisdom tooth removal Note: This is all for myself while I recover, would I like Mark to be my nephew's uncle? Yes definitely🤧

⪢ NCT Masterlist

Y/N heard her nephew's voice sing through the house, humming her name and she just smiled lightly, as much as she could at that moment and adjusted herself better in bed knowing that the two and a half year old baby would come running at any moment. “Uncle Marcus arrived!” the little boy announced at the door of his aunt's room and she held back her laughter with her hand over her mouth, already imagining her boyfriend's face. A few seconds passed before she saw her boyfriend's familiar face pass through the doorway in a kind of shock and disappointment upon hearing the wrong name, he was holding the small hand of Y/N's nephew who was bringing him to her room. "Hey love." Mark approached the bed and gave Y/N a quick kiss on the forehead. "How are you?" “Swollen.” she pointed to her left cheek and saw Mark laugh lightly as he looked at her. Her face was actually slightly more swollen compared to the other side but that was expected, considering that removing the tooth would do just that. “Any pain?” he asked worriedly and she shook her head. “I just feel sleepy.” she replied, lying down on the bed again. She still felt the anesthesia in her mouth, it had only been two hours since she had her wisdom teeth removed so the effects were still there. “Sleep, I’ll be here when you wake up.” he assured and approached to give her a light peck, both Y/N and her nephew laughed. The nephew for finding the scene amusing and Y/N for feeling just one side of Mark's mouth press against hers. "What?" He laughed awkwardly. “I don’t feel anything on that side.” She explained, pointing to her own mouth and he laughed along. “Rest, okay?” he asked and she nodded. “Your nephew and I have a lot to play with.” Y/N admired her boyfriend holding her nephew in his arms, the little boy loved Mark and tired the boy until he himself fell asleep but it was a great battle because Y/N's nephew always fell asleep first. She just watched the two leave the room as her eyes grew heavier and heavier and she gave in to sleep.

[…]

Y/N started to wake up to the sound of the guitar chords, it was familiar, Mark tried to teach her nephew to play the guitar from an early age and the little one always had fun with the instrument, more hitting his own hand than playing the strings but he liked the songs and Mark singing for him. Just like Y/N, who didn't move to avoid attracting attention, she just watched her boyfriend and nephew sitting on the floor in their own little world. She enjoyed watching the interaction between the two, the two favorite people in her life adored each other and she couldn't feel happier. “Listen, grandpa and grandma are here.” Mark announced to the little one that clapped his hands and got up quickly, with the help of the older one and ran out of the room, Mark followed him a little late and came back a while later. “I didn’t see you woke up.” he said to his girlfriend as soon as he saw her eyes open, he sat next to her on the bed and took his hand to caress her back. “He adores you, you know?” Mark smiled widely, he also liked him as if he were his own nephew. And in fact he felt like it was. “He just needs to learn to say my name correctly, right.” Y/N laughed at Mark's disappointed expression. “One day I’m Marcus, the next Maku, he’s even said Mork.” “Will you believe me if I tell you that when you’re not here he says your name right?” Mark looked at her in disbelief. “I feel defeated.” He threw himself on the bed next to Y/N who stroked his hair lightly as he made himself better on the bed. “You’re his favorite uncle.” Y/N remembered and he nodded. “And he’s my favorite nephew.” Y/N laughed. “Because he’s the only one.” They both laughed and Mark turned to face her. “Thank you for coming today.” He moved closer to kiss the tip of her nose. “I said I would come and take care of you. Your parents have a child to look after and so do I.” Y/N narrowed her eyes. “Okay, Uncle Marcus.”

[jaelvr]

oops

Home | NCT 127 masterlist |

Requested : no

Prompts ; 12. “Ow! What did I do this time?!” + 35. “If anything happens to me, remember that I’ll always love you.”

Pairing : spiderman! Mark x reader

Pronouns : you/yours

Type : fluff

Word count : 1.2k

Warnings : mutual feelings, friends to lovers, idol au, fluff, slightly ooc

Have a great day !! 

——————————

"Holy shit dude!" you murmured, eyes widening as you took in the scene, your best friend had just swung through his window. You had been sitting in his room, scribbling away at his desk while you waited for him to get home when he'd swung through the window - no, wait, spiderman had swung through the window. As soon as Spiderman turned, his expression went from confused to shocked and a slight blush spread its way across his cheeks once the reality of the situation set in. His hands shook out of nervousness and slight panic as he thought about every decision he’d made that led him here. He cleared his throat before finally speaking. “um…” he mumbled.

"You're Spiderman?!" you gasped, letting out a nervous laugh as you stood up. “yeah…” He sighed and looked away, then back at you. he crossed his arms and tried to stand up straighter. though he was the one doing the whole superhero shtick, he still lacked confidence when talking to you. “I guess you know now.” His hands fidgeted with his suit’s sleeves as he spoke. "Do the others know? Does Hyuck know?" you rambled, standing in front of him as you looked at his suit. "How does it work?-" You continued, getting excited and not noticing his slightly overwhelmed expression.

“Wait slow down- no, Hyuck doesn’t know. most people don’t. and uh…” Mark took a breath to focus and gather his thoughts. he didn’t think he’d have to really explain any of the superhero business to you. He was really nervous about what you were thinking right now. “uh, how does what work?” He asked, trying to keep up with all the questions you were throwing at him. "Sorry, I'm uh..I'm probably overwhelming you right now." you apologised sheepishly, rubbing the back of your neck. “Nah, it’s fine….” he chuckled nervously and fidgeted with his fingers. Mark didn’t get nervous around anyone but he was always nervous around you. “So… do you think I’m weird now?” he wondered, slightly anxious about your reaction.

"Weird? Mark, my best friend is Spiderman! Do you know how cool that is?" you gushed, cheeks a gentle pink and a massive grin on your face. “R-really? you’re fine with it and don’t think I’m some weirdo?” The way he spoke implied that people he knew before would react differently, hence the nervousness. “You’re not gonna think of me differently now? like, you’re still gonna want to hang out with me?” he wondered in disbelief. "Mark, nothing could stop me from hanging out with you." you assured gently, sitting on his bed.

His heart melted. Mark could never truly put into words how much it meant to him to have someone like you in his life. You never thought he was odd, or a weirdo. You liked him for the person that he was inside. The superhero stuff was just a bonus. he stepped forward and sat beside you. “seriously? you mean it? you’re not going to treat me any differently now that you know?” Mark mumbled hesitantly, unsure of your response. "You're still the same Mark Lee, right?" you teased gently, cupping his face. “I mean yeah…” he looked down at your hand touching his face, a tinge of blush crept to his cheeks. after a few more seconds, he looked back up at you. “but I’m a superhero now. Doesn’t that make me cooler or something?”

"You've always been cool to me." you murmured, caressing his cheek. “you’re going to make me cry.” his cheeks were fully flushed and his heart was racing. Mark was more in love with you than usual. If he could, he would’ve kissed you right now. but he was too shy and knew that if he did it now, it would be super cheesy. "You're still gonna come to our movie nights right? And you're not too cool for cuddles?" you teased gently, a small smile on your face as you looked at him and your cheeks heating up. he chuckled. You definitely caught him off guard. “yeah, I'm not gonna just stop hanging out with you because I'm a superhero. and no, I'll never be too cool for cuddles.” he took one of your hands and rubbed his thumb over your wrist, smiling softly.

"… I missed you." you admitted gently, resting your head on his shoulder. “I missed you too….” he wrapped his arm around you and pulled you closer to him. His fingers found a way into your hair, running through the strands lovingly. Mark was thankful for this moment, this moment of comfort, but he also wanted more. "promise you'll try and be careful out there?" you muttered, playing with his hand. “I promise I'll be the most careful I can be.” his hand tightened on yours as if to reassure you. Mark was grateful for this conversation. that now, you were fully aware of what he did during his spare time, you were worried for him. and he felt thankful that you cared about his well being. He leaned his head onto yours, pressing his forehead to yours. “If anything happens to me, remember that I’ll always love you.”

A small smile settled on your face, your cheeks heating up and your heart rate speeding up at the unexpected confession of reciprocated feelings. You let out a soft chuckle before gently punching his arm, forehead still against his. “Ow! What did I do this time?!” Mark playfully shoved you back, giving you a teasing glare, though his blush grew in the process. He thought back to a few times throughout the day when he’d caught you staring at him with a soft smile. Mark could’ve sworn you were flirting, but he didn’t know for certain. At that exact moment, he wanted to ask you, but he was too nervous. "Don't joke about stuff like that!" you pouted, sending him a soft smile. "I'm serious, Mark Lee. I can't lose you."

His heart started hammering. there was a chance. a chance that you were serious about all this, all this flirting, all this… the thought of it being true made him weak in the knees. he cleared his throat and spoke while still looking at your lips. ”Okay, but, what if I told you I felt the same way?” Mark answered back, deciding to take the chance. "then I'd tell you to kiss me right now." you responded, lips brushing against his. his breath caught in his throat as your lips brushed against his. All his self-control escaped him and his lips met yours, his grip on your waist tightening as he pulled you even closer, kissing you back enthusiastically. After a few moments, his breath was heavy and he was practically panting. Mark let go of you and looked away, his cheeks very flushed. He tried to get himself together. “…so, uh…” he started.

He didn't get a chance to speak before he was tugged into another kiss, a smirk plastered on his face as he felt your hands tangle in his hair. Mark's eyes fluttered close once your lips were against his once more. His hands went back to your waist and his arms wrapped around you once again, pulling you into a tight embrace as he kissed you back. His lips moved with yours in tandem, kissing you over and over. Mark's heart beat faster as the seconds passed by, but he couldn't stop because he didn’t want to get off of this high.

This beautiful high.

[renjunphile]

if my wishes came true, it would have been you | mark lee

PAIRING ✧ nct's mark lee x female reader WORD COUNT ✧ 12.0k TAGS ✧ idol!mark x idol!reader, exes!au, exes to lovers!au, really quite angsty, happy ending, fluff, non-linear narrative

PLAYLIST aka SONGS BY YN ✧ the 1 by taylor swift ; 21 by gracie abrams ; i miss you, i'm sorry by gracie abrams ; champagne problems by taylor swift ; in between by gracie ambrams ; somebody by hwasa and loco ; i know it won't work by gracie abrams, dancing with our hands tied (acoustic) by taylor swift

SUMMARY ✧ persist and resist the temptation to ask if one thing had been different, would everything be different today? (alternatively, every single time you and mark get a chance to talk about your breakup, it never goes as planned)

-

MAY 2021

"NCT are here."

You hum along to the track blasting in your left ear through the singular airpod. It's the first day of your comeback promotions, and while you should feel confident from the many months you'd practiced the song every single day for multiple hours, no amount of time could ever erase the nerves you feel each comeback day.

You're already finished with your hair and makeup, being the first to sit in the chair to give your members some time to wake up from their naps in the van. Though you should all be bright, awake, and preppy for your comeback stage, the reality was that all of you were obliteratingly tired from the near all-nighter in the practice room. Your makeup artists are true magicians for the way they cover up all signs of tiredness even under all those harsh, bright stage lights.

"Unnie, did you hear me?" your youngest member Kali poked your arm incessantly.

"Kali, stop," you whine, pushing her finger away, "I heard you."

"So why didn't you react?"

"Why should I?" you sigh, pausing the track on your phone.

She pauses for a while, choosing to craft her words before replying too hastily, "We should still go and say hi. Haechan is asking if we wanna film a TikTok with them."

"You know they only post with SM idols," you remind her.

"You were in SM too. It's just for fun," she mumbles, "You know how many idols feature on Haechan's private account. Please come."

"You're up to no good, Kali," you squint at her suspiciously, watching the room carefully to see if anyone had overheard. It wasn't really a big deal; all your managers were well-informed, just like your members, and your stylists were basically your friends.

"I already talked to our manager and Haechan talked to their manager," Kali wrapped her fingers around your wrist delicately, but pulling to encourage you to stand up, "Let's go."

The walk to the hallway where the NCT members agreed to meet the two of you wasn't exactly a long one, but the rumblings of nerves bubbling in your stomach made it feel like a million years. You weren't stupid; you knew exactly what to expect and you wouldn't put it past your maknae to meddle in a time like this.

"Oh look, they're here already," Kali was biting a grin behind her words as 3 figures came into view. Haechan gives you a warm smile and a famous bear hug before he was shoved away. 

"Noona," you resist a pout as one of the boys you had been taking care of since you were younger wrapped you up in a big hug, "Haven't seen you in so long. Missed you."

"Missed you too Ji. You grow an inch every time I see you," you also resist the urge to ruffle up his perfectly styled purple hair out of fear of getting hunted by his hair stylist, "I like this purple on you."

He gives you an appreciative grin and somehow you still see him as the tiny, shy boy running energetically around the halls of the company building after being chased by his fellow trainees. Jisung moves on to greet your member, who was still in conversation with Haechan.

It's definitely not that you dread having to face Mark Lee. It's totally not the fact that he's your ex-boyfriend. Or the fact that you're still in love with him. Or the fact that he's still in love with you. No, none of that.

Totally.

"You look really pretty, Y/N," he begins slowly, taking in your appearance in front of him, having not seen each other for a few months.

Mark Lee stands in front of you stoic, hands by his side and feet together. It's almost like he's fighting his instinct to wrap you up in his arms like he's done most of his life because you sure know you're having to fight that instinct too.

"Thanks, Mark. I like your blue hair," you smile softly, "How are you?"

"I'm good. Amazing, even. I guess," he's mumbling, running his hands through said hair you just complimented and you can tell he's nervous, "I love the song. And the whole album. I can tell which songs you wrote. You always make me so proud."

Ouch. It stings your heart whenever he says things like that. How could you have let go of someone so sweet?

"Thanks. Congratulations on your first album and coming back with Dream."

"Ah, thanks. I fought so hard to come back to the group and I'm really happy they finally listened to me," he began, "You know how much I love them."

"Yeah, I know."

You're barely meeting his eyes, but when you do, it feels like he's hesitating in his words.

"Mark-"

"Happy birthday by the way," he rushes out, "For yesterday. I'm sorry that I didn't text. Or call."

"It's okay," you reassure him, knowing that that was probably easier for you both that he didn't.

"How did you spend your birthday?"

"The members got me cake. Coffee, my favourite," you recount, "I did a live for a bit, but other than that we were practicing all day for today."

"Oh, I'm sorry. That really sucks," he frowns.

"You know how it goes. I'll have more birthdays to celebrate anyway-"

"But you didn't celebrate last year either!" he protests.

"Maybe next year, then," you pull your lips into a tight smile, "It's okay Mark. Don't worry about it. I'm not really fond of my birthdays anymore and 22's not a big deal."

He sighs while looking at you, "You deserve to celebrate your birthday no matter what. I hope you can find some time to do something  for yourself."

You chuckle lightly, "That'll be hard to come by. I don't know how you've done it with multiple groups all these years, Mark. I've only been debuted for three years and it's never got any easier. You were really stretching yourself thin, huh?"

"I guess," he's playing with his fingers, so you know he has something to say.

"Just say it, Mark. Whatever you want to say."

You can read him like a book and you've always been able to. It's not your fault that the book is wide open, as compared to the way you've always been- shut, bound, and locked.

"I just wanted to say I miss you. That's all. I just wanted to see how you were doing."

Thanks to the secluded hallway that Haechan had found and led you to, the coast was clear enough for you to close the distance between you and Mark even just by a bit more. His breath hitches as you place a hand on his arm.

"Thanks for caring, Mark. I miss you too."

He smiles at you softly and the two of you are so engrossed in each other to notice that Kali, Haechan and Jisung had disappeared a while ago. You know it's time for you to go back though.

The worst part of the whole situation wasn't the breakup itself. Of course, the breakup hurt both of you for a long time and you don't even think you're recovered. It did happen over a year ago, but that wasn't the worst part.

The worst part is knowing that every time you meet again, walking away hurts more each time. It's the fact that there's nothing you can do but listen to your heart break with each step you take away from each other. It's the fact that there's nothing you can do about the fact that you still love each other more than anything else in this world.

-

2014

Mark Lee was known to be SM's golden child. In the future, he'd be known as the most over-worked in the company, due to his talents and resilience, but now, he's just Mark Lee, second to you.

You'd done everything before Mark. You were born first. You moved to Korea first. You beat him joining the company by 6 months and you beat him getting announced as part of SM Rookies just by 7 days.

None of that mattered because it was always just you and him together, wherever. Sure, you trained and practiced separately, but lunchtimes, downtimes, company gatherings- it was always the two of you attached to the hip. There was really nothing the company could say- the two of you were barely 15 so what was the worst you could do?

"How long do you think it'll be before your debut?" the two of you are lying down on the grass in a park a few minutes away from the building. His hands are rifling through the blades, yanking them up every so often, while you made daisy chains quietly.

He hums in response, "I don't know. Soon I hope, but I've only been here for like just over a year. Realistically, I'd say like 2 years. Don't tell anyone I told you, but I heard Johnny hyung talking to the manager about some kind of project that the company has been thinking of for a while. Something about having a group with infinite members!"

Your eyes widened at the thought, "Wow, really? EXO debuted with 12 and I thought that was a lot!"

"Yeah, right? But there are only like 9 of us in SM Rookies right now. How many do you think they'll start with and how am I going to get lines in a song if there's so many of us?"

You nudge him, "Well, with your awesome talent and writing skills of course. I can't wait to see what ends up happening to you guys- oh yeah, by the way, how's that new trainee you guys are training with? Donghyuck, right?"

"New?" he sat up with wide eyes, twisting his body to look at you, "He's been here for like 5 months and it's been the worst 5 months of my life! He's just so infuriating. His voice is amazing, sure, but he never listens and is always talking and hanging off me! I told him that he makes me want to leave the company."

You laugh at his frustrated expression, "Ha, you'd never leave the company. You'd never leave me behind. Plus, I bet you'll be best friends in a few years. Opposites attract and all that."

"Hm, but you and I are quite similar. Don't you think?"

There were definitely some traits that you shared to both be enduring the same path. Resilient, hard-working, brave, and enduring were all ones. After all, it's a big leap of faith to train to have the chance to be an idol just at 12 or 13 with no guaranteed future.

When it came down to it though, you'd like to think that there were also traits you each had that weren't always necessarily opposites all the time, but traits that complemented each other.

Mark liked to talk; you liked to listen. Mark was optimistic and would always be the one to cheer you up on your particularly moody days. You were Mark's calm through it all. Mark loved to rap; you found your passion in singing. Mark liked carrots and would take them off your plate in the cafeteria and swap them with his peas. Mark's hands were calloused from his guitar-playing, while yours were smooth and soft when he held them.

"No, I think we're the perfect example of opposites attract."

"Well then that's why you're my best friend," he grinned over at you while you slid a daisy chain bracelet onto his wrists, "Forever and whenever."

"Always," you grinned.

-

AUGUST 2021

"What are you doing here?"

"No happy birthday Mark?" he teases, holding a bouquet of flowers and a grocery store plastic bag in his hands on your doorstep.

"Come in before anyone sees you," you pull him inside your dorm, sticking your head out the hallway to see if it was empty, "How did you get here?"

"Relax, Y/N. My manager drove me and I was in all this," he pulls out a mask and a beanie from his pocket to show you.

"Oh, good. Happy birthday, I guess, but what are you doing here?" you question him again, looking at the contents in his grasp.

"Well, it all started when Hyuck said that we were throwing a birthday party for me. Then Jisung invited Kali and obviously, you too. And your members, of course. Then you said you couldn't come because you're busy," his eyes dart to the episode of Modern Family on your TV and the blanket lazily thrown on the couch, combined with your pajamas, "So I didn't want to come to the party anymore."

"But all my members are at your dorm," you frown, "There's still a party?"

"Yeah, I guess. Gives Jisung an opportunity to spend more time with his crush, which I'm sure Kali appreciates."

"So they're hosting your birthday party," you hum, "Without you? And you came here to what? Check that I'm busy?"

"I know you're not busy. Erin told me so, which I suspected anyway. I know it's kind of rude for me to come to force you to spend time with me when you didn't even want to come to my birthday party in the first place, but I thought I would try." he shrugs, "Is that okay?"

Mark is adorned in a white T-shirt and grey joggers. He's clearly not dressed for a party and your member clearly told him that you're staying inside and moping to your comfort show while you try to avoid your ex-boyfriend on his birthday. Plan failed, you guess.

Here's the thing: you've always been the worst at saying no to Mark. The one time you did, the world crashed around you. You would've thought it would have got easier to say no to him after already experiencing the worst-case scenario, but looking into his slightly pleading chocolate eyes shows you otherwise.

"Of course, Mark. You're the birthday boy," you finally say after a period of silence where Mark felt like his heart was thumping out of his chest.

"There's no one else I'd rather spend my birthday with," he hums lightly, even though his words are loaded, "Here, a big bouquet for missing last year too."

The tradition started on his 15th birthday in 2014. Even though it was his birthday, he had got you a bouquet of flowers to thank you for being his best friend of one year and making him feel all the more comfortable in his first year in Korea. You were his dance partner, his classmate, his fellow English speaker, and his best friend. He got you flowers again the next year, then the year after, and again and again for being his partner through everything.

The last birthday you shared with Mark before the two of you broke up was his 20th birthday in 2019 and he had prepared his own bouquet that year, choosing all your favourite flowers and colours and wrapping it all up himself. Mark was selfless like that- thinking of other people even on his birthday.

"It's beautiful," you examine the flowers- pink and red camellias and carnations, white primroses, pink peonies, red roses and baby's breaths. Taking that flower language course with Mark back when you were both 17 comes as a regret now, with the messages he's sending you through the bouquet. You hope it's just a coincidence.

"Anyway, I brought us- or I made my manager buy us- some Oreo ice cream, peanut butter chocolate, some ramen, and chicken and mushroom pastries," he grins as he pulls each one out of the bag, "And I brought cake, obviously."

You hold yourself back from saying what you would say every time he presented your favourite pastry from your childhood home to you- 'you know the way to my heart'.

"I haven't had one in so long," you gasp, taking it from him and preparing your plate already, "Thanks Mark. Why are you so considerate on your own birthday?"

"I like to celebrate the people I love on my birthday too. I wouldn't be me without them," he plops himself on the bar stool at your breakfast bar while you sigh hopelessly. He'll never leave your heart alone, "I wanted to soften the blow too."

You turn to him slowly, "Soften the blow?"

He sees the panic in your eyes and lets out that melodious laugh you've always loved, "Oh, nothing like that. Nothing to tell you. I just wanted to bribe you to talk to me on my birthday. I thought after over a year you might be ready to talk?"

"About what?"

"Us."

You thank the manufacturers of the heavenly pastry slice that only takes 90 seconds in the microwave. You set the plate down in front of Mark and take the seat next to him.

"What did you want to talk about?"

"Are you still my best friend?"

"Mark, come on," you began warily, knowing the difficult conversation you were about to have.

He meets your eyes and you feel the pain reflected in them, "When we decided to give our relationship a try when we were 16, we pinky swore that no matter what happens, we'll always be best friends. Always. Right?"

You find the power to break his gaze and stare down to your hands on your lap, "We did."

"So, why can't we go back to being friends? I know, I know when you broke up with me, you said that you don't think we could stay friends. I understood, of course, and I wanted to give you some space. Well, at least initially, but it's been over a year now and I really miss us. Your friendship meant everything to me even if I can't have you as my girlfriend." his tone is heartbreaking in the way that it's vulnerable and pleading.

"I told you when we broke up that breaking up was the hardest choice I'd ever have to make. It blew the choice to leave SM out of the water. I didn't want to break up, but it felt like I had no choice," you explained slowly, "When we first started dating, I knew I already loved you, but growing up together and debuting and going through everything I went through really taught me what real love in real life looked like and I could never have predicted at 16 how I felt for you at 20. Mark, you're everything to me, I hope you know. I said I didn't want to be friends when we broke up because how could I have lived with myself seeing you and talking to you still knowing I had you in the way that I did and knowing I loved you that intensely but not being able to show it anymore? How could I live with myself still having you around knowing I let go of the greatest thing that's ever happened to me?"

Mark Lee was brave at 16 when he kissed you for the first time and asked you to be his girlfriend against all the bans and rules. Mark Lee was brave at 18 watching you walk away from everything you both knew at SM Entertainment and for not running after you to stop you because you both knew it was for the best. Mark Lee was brave at 20 hearing you sob through the phone while you were halfway around the world because you just couldn't do this anymore. Mark Lee is brave at 22, taking your warm hands in his, and Mark Lee is brave when he lifts your chin up to meet his gaze and asks you this:

"Why can't we just get back together? This year apart is hurting us more than it's benefitting us."

People say that the eyes are the windows to the soul- that the eyes say everything someone can't say. Your eyes are filled with tears, yes, but also love and fear and all the emotions in between.

The problem was that your brain always rules your life, keeping your heart's true desires always suppressed deep within.

"Mark," you trail, before he cuts you off.

"I don't see the problem, Y/N. Both our companies knew we were dating and you're not a rookie in the industry anymore. I mean, we dated through your whole rookie era! I acknowledge everything you said and felt when we broke up and I wanted to give you time to work through those emotions, but I'm asking if anything has changed. Has it?"

"I've never stopped loving you, but I'm still scared Mark. I'm even more scared now as your career grows," you say quietly, "I don't want to hurt you. If anything gets out, it won't just hurt you or me, because I could take it if it only hurt me, but it's our members, Mark. You know how fans feel about idols who date and it's never ever as simple as 'if they're a true fan they'll be happy for me'. That's not how the industry works."

He squeezes your hands, "Then we'll get better at sneaking around! You know the boys love you so much and they know how much our relationship meant to me and they'd never ever get in the way of that. Or we can just text and call and I don't even have to see you in person when it's risky. I just want the chance to tell you that I still love you every single day as I promised."

There it is again, the sound of your heart breaking at the most loving boy on the planet.

"Will you let me think about it? At least about being your best friend still? I'm sorry that I can't give you an answer right now on your birthday," you murmur. The confessions from Mark came as no surprise, but he never fails to leave you speechless with no clear thoughts in your brain and your heart always full.

"I'm just asking for a chance. Just for anything you can give me," he smiles finally, "How about we eat all this and continue your Modern Family? It's still my favourite show, so I couldn't dream of a better way to spend my birthday."

"I'd like that."

-

2015

"I'm debuting," Mark barges into the near-empty practice room, huffing and panting like he just ran a marathon, "Y/N, oh my God!"

You're sat cross-legged on the floor with your phone propped up in front of you. Your eyebrows are stitched together tightly, indicating that you were probably either criticising yourself on a recording or trying to learn a choreography. The moment you realise that it's Mark, your whole body unclenches and you relax as you pause the video. You don't comprehend the weight of his words until he says them again.

"Y/N, Y/N, I'm going to debut!" he's practically screaming in joy as he belly slides towards you and crashes into you, wrapping his arms around you.

"Oh my God, Mark! Really? Tell me everything right now!" you squeeze him back, pride bursting in your chest.

When you both joined SM, you came with the obvious dream of being an idol entertainer. Sure, the company can make all these empty promises to you at the start, but with the way the industry works, nothing is really ever truly for certain. For you, the company had not given you any time scale or idea of what direction they wanted you to go in. You weren't even really that hopeful, considering the company just debuted Red Velvet one year ago, but you were still enduring.

However, it was almost time to debut a new boy group since it had been 3 years and counting since EXO broke into the scene. You were always certain that Mark was always a part of that plan.

"So, do you remember last year when I told you about the infinite boy group idea? It was true! The company gathered all the male trainees and showed them their idea- it's called NCT and it's so cool, trust me! So it's like they're going to debut groups within NCT like different members in each group!"

"Mark, that sounds amazing. Which group are you going to be in?"

"Uh, they said all of them?" Mark frowns in confusion, "Like the first is going to be this unit where members can switch out anytime and it only has a comeback whenever it wants to, and then the second one is like a normal permanent group which I think I'll be with Hyuck and the hyungs, and the third one is a group where we graduate once we hit 20! But I don't think that one's fully confirmed with members yet."

He's running out of breath explaining it to you and his eyes are going crazy so you just laugh and hug tighter, "That's a lot of information, but it still sounds amazing. See Mark, I told you that you're going to be the most important person in this building! You're literally the best."

Mark nudges you so that you break away, "Psh, shut up Y/N. It's still a few months out anyway. We're going to be writing and practicing the debut song for the first unit really soon though."

"And I'm so proud of you," you tell him sincerely, knowing that there are not many people who you can say have worked harder than Mark to achieve their dreams, "Do you feel scared at all?"

He swivels his body so that he's sitting in front of you and he starts playing with your fingers like he always does, "Naturally, I guess. Debuting is a whole new world and being an idol too, but this is what I've been working towards so why shouldn't I be more excited? I've been waiting for this day, but I guess it's human nature to have fear of the unknown."

"It's definitely not wrong to not be scared. I'd be over the moon if they finally tell me I'm going to debut," you sigh dreamily.

"And you will! They can't keep you hidden here any longer and you know that the company loves you so much! You've given everything for them so you deserve it all back," Mark is now rubbing circles with his thumb on the back of your hand, "I can't wait until we achieve our dream together. No matter how long it takes, we'll both be standing on that stage together as idols. It's so close now, Y/N."

You smile softly at the boy, ever the optimist, "I can't wait for it too, Mark. Don't let the fame get to your head so quickly and don't forget me when you're famous okay?"

"You're so silly," Mark laughs, "You'll always be my best friend- wait scratch that-"

"I won't always be your best friend?"

"No! You will! But this is literally the best day ever and I have all this adrenaline and energy right now and if I don't say it now, I don't think I ever will, but all I'm saying is that I've been by your side for nearly 3 years now and you're literally my other half and it's so goddamn obvious that I like you so much and I really want to be your boyfriend. Okay, exhale Mark."

Your eyes widen at his confession and you slide away from him in shock, "Wait, really? You like me? You want to be my boyfriend?"

He looks at you like you just grew two heads, "Y/N, that's literally exactly what I said. Do you like me back?"

Shyness begins to creep out of you while your whole face flushes red. You've never been the type to be shy around Mark, even in the times his words and actions make you feel giddy.

"Mhm, you're my first real crush that developed when we met. I thought I'd grow out of it, but it kept getting stronger the closer we got," you admit.

The first day that Mark Lee walked into the practice rooms and got introduced to the trainees, you thought he was the cutest boy in the world. He was dorky and shy at first, but when he performed in front of you, he turned into a completely different person that made you fall for him even more.

The two of you were the same age and he was your deskmate in Korean lessons. Though Mark had grown up speaking Korean, he had never lived in Korea speaking it almost 100% of the time, so the company thought it would be good for him to join your lessons, especially to get training for the language he would be using as an idol.

The two of you became very fast friends and by the end of the month, you were chasing each other in the cafeteria and sharing food in corners with your own inside jokes.

His face breaks out into a grin, tackling you into a hug, "Aw, my little Y/N likes me back!"

You roll your eyes playfully and shove him off your body, "First of all, I'm 3 months older than you, and second of all, you have been spending way too much time with Donghyuck."

"Yeah that little devil rubs off on people," he sighs, "Whatever. Does that mean we're boyfriend and girlfriend now?"

"Wait, wait, wait. We have to consider the implications! Especially if you're debuting soon! Are we going to tell the company? How is this going to work?" you bombard him with questions, playing your part as the realist in this friendship, "Is this a good idea."

"I mean, half the hyungs have secret girlfriends so we can ask them for help and at least it helps that you're in the company with me so if they do find out it's easier to protect the both of us," Mark replies, "I've actually spent a lot of time thinking about this, believe it or not. You keep me up awake at night sometimes."

"You're so cheesy," you mumble, turning away to hide your blushing face, "But I guess I do want to be your girlfriend- but what if we break up? I don't want to lose you as my best friend!"

"How about this then," he extends his pinky out to you, "Let's pinky swear that even if we break up and this relationship goes horribly wrong, we'll be best friends still. Forever and whenever."

His words are dripping with sincerity and it surrounds you like a blanket. There's no one in this world that you trust more than Mark Lee when you entwine your own pink around his and smile at him, "Always."

Your pinkies are still attached a minute later when he's looking at you with a goofy smile.

You glare at him, "What's going on in that big head of yours?"

"If we're dating, then does that mean I can kiss you?"

The thought of kissing Mark had admittedly crossed your mind more than you could bare to say out loud. You wanted to play it off cool- shove him and roll your eyes or something, but truthfully, you really did want to kiss your dorky best friend Mark Lee.

"I mean, I guess," you shrug, "If you want to."

"Ha ha, I do," he starts leaning in closer and your heart is beating faster.

This was it. You were going to kiss your best friend-turned-boyfriend in the middle of a practice room. He was going to be your first kiss too!

Mark's face is so close that you can feel his breath on your lips. You can tell he's never done this before with how slowly and nervously he's advancing, but you can see the hope in his eyes.

Your eyes flutter shut. Your lips are almost touching, just ghosting over each others.

"Wait!" you groan as he opens his mouth, "If I'm your first real crush, then who's your first crush overall?"

You smirk, "Jongin-oppa. Duh."

-

2022

This was the biggest concert of your career. Playing the Olympic Stadium had always just been a distant daydream - something to dream about just to amuse you or occupy time. You'd never thought that you would actually live to see the day when that dream came to fruition.

It wasn't even a realistic dream. No girl groups had ever played their own concert at Jamsil Olympic Stadium, but your group was going to be the first.

Cameras were pointed all around you backstage as you prepared to go on for your opening.

"Leader, give us a pep talk," your bandmate Yana whines while nudging you. You gather in a circle, pretending you're not deafened by the noise of your fans screaming just past the partition, where they're waiting in anticipation.

The 5 of you lean closer, putting your heads together and your hands in the middle. Before that, you make sure to look at their faces carefully and examine each member's expressions.

Jian is a year older than you, but she's nervous as hell and can barely get any words out. You're not worried because she's proven time after time that she's born to be on stage and that she completely transforms in front of an audience showering her in love. Yana seems nervous too, but she's better at hiding it and it comes out through rambles of sometimes unintelligible speech. Erin is gripping her microphone tightly with a poker face, probably recalling all of her raps in her head quickly, even though you know it comes second nature to her. Your youngest, Kali, seems the most excited. That kid is the most fearless idol you've ever met and you're grateful for someone like her on the team.

As for you? Well, you're a mix of all of your members. It's coming up to a decade now since you started training and you still have to take everything that this career throws at you one by one. The feeling backstage is not exactly overwhelming- it's more pride and joy and excitement to be out there and perform the best concert you have to give.

"No one can ever take this away from us. We're the first freaking girl group to host a show here! We've worked so hard for this and we absolutely deserve it. Everyone out there is here for us, so we should give it our all and play the best show ever. Don't let your nerves get to you. Just relax and be the amazing and talented performers I know we all are," you breathe out, "I'm really thankful for you guys and I'm so happy to have you by my side with me for this. We're exactly where we should be. I really love you guys so much. Let's kill it, yeah? 3, 2, 1, Fighting!"

Your members release a chuckle and you all wrap your arms around each other in a group hug. Soon, your cues begin in your in-ear monitors and you break up to take your positions on the platform that will lift you up to the stage.

The concert starts off without a hitch. Everything is perfect and the energy you get as each song progresses is nothing like you've ever felt. The sea of fans is expansive and blinding and you still have to check you're not dreaming every few moments. You eventually settle into the stage and the concert slows down a bit with your solo performances.

Your company had encouraged you all to perform something of your own choosing and while you had a vast repertoire of songs tucked away on your GarageBand, they were mostly unfinished, too personal or waiting to be adapted to your group to go onto your future albums. The song had to be something that would only ever be just for you, but something you could bare to release into the world for everyone else to hear.

Okay, so maybe you let your emotions rule you and get the best of you. Maybe the song you chose was the wrong one to invite your fans to insert themselves into. Maybe it was too personal to sing a song about Mark Lee in front of the biggest crowd you'd ever played in your life, but when else could you?

The baby grand piano is gleaming in the centre of the stage and your blue dress is sparkling from the way the lights hit the crystals adorning the whole slip. You're admittedly more nervous about this, but you think it's more to do with the fact that you know Mark Lee is in the stadium, somewhere.

Your company had warned you that if you wanted to sing this song, you had to do a little speech before that would throw them off your scent, "Hi guys," you pause for their screams, "I know you guys enjoyed Kali's energetic dance and Jian's amazing original song! For my segment, I thought we could have a little chill time and not to dampen your spirits, but I wanted to show you guys this heartbreak track that I wrote after watching too many sad rom-coms. I really hope that none of you guys can relate and if anyone ever breaks your heart, just send them my way, okay? I hope you guys enjoy it. This is '21'."

You let out a deep breath and remind yourself that this was the right choice. Your fingers glide over the keys perfectly like it's muscle memory from the year you've been working on the song. You send a prayer to higher beings that Mark won't kill you as you begin the first lines.

"I missed your 21st birthday. I've been up at home; almost tried to call you, don't know if I should. Hate to picture you half-drunk, happy. Hate to think you went out without me. I'm sorry if you blame me, if I were you I would. Thought you'd see it coming, but you never could. I still haven't heard from your family, but you said your mom always loved me."

Mark celebrated your 21st birthday with you. Public dates were not a thing in your relationship, but this man made every effort to make the best out of your situation. He kicked out your members from your dorm after enlisting their help to decorate the place top to bottom in rose gold banners and balloons. After taking cooking lessons for weeks previously, he had then covered your dining table with expensive cloth and filled up two glasses with wine to go with the steak that he had perfectly cooked all for you. He then took you to the couch and serenaded you with a love song about how much you mean to him and how thankful he was for you. On top of all that, you had boxes and boxes of presents to unwrap that were all thoughtful, beautiful, or meaningful. Mark Lee was the perfect boyfriend.

For Mark's 21st birthday, you were sat cross-legged on your sofa with your phone placed on the table in front of you, face up. It was as if you were waiting for him to be the one to call when you were the one who broke his heart just a few weeks earlier and asked to not be friends.

You were drinking the wine that he poured for you on your birthday and you were half-drunk, punching in his number on your keypad, because even though you deleted his number, you already knew it off by heart. There was just something in you that refused to carry it through. You were a coward and Mark Lee celebrated his birthday without you for the first time in 7 years.

"I see the look in your eye and I'm biting my tongue. You were the love of my life since I was young. When the night is over, don't call me up I'm already under. I get a little bit alone sometimes and I miss you again. I'll be the love of your life inside your head. When the night is over, don't call me up I'm already under."

Later on that night, you're lying wide awake and staring up at the glow-in-the-dark stars that you and Mark had decided to plaster all around your ceiling when you were bored one day. The crowd seemed to love the song thankfully and it was easy to get their energy back up. People placed meaning into everything idols did, so you weren't surprised at the people who were making guesses about your love life and the subject of the song. Whatever, they'd never get it right, anyway.

Your phone ringing cuts through the silence and you curse, hoping it won't wake up the other girls in the dorm. They're probably dead asleep from the high-energy concert anyway.

"You're still up?" his voice is grainy through the speaker.

"You're the one that called. Did you not want me to answer?" you quip back, "It's the adrenaline, I think."

"Touché. I was going to leave a voicemail, but this is better, I guess," Mark uttered, "The concert was amazing, by the way. I'm sorry we didn't come and say hello backstage, but we really enjoyed it."

"Thanks, Mark and thank the boys for me too, okay?" you instruct.

"Mhmm, of course," he replies, "That song you wrote was good, you know. But you might've as well called it 'Mark'."

You're laughing softly at his comment, "I should've changed the number, I know. But shut up- if you know it's for you, then why don't you follow my words? I said don't call me tonight."

"I've never been good at following rules when it comes to you," Mark sighs, "Plus, there's not a lot of times I can just call you up like this. At least I had something to say to you."

"You can always call if you want."

"Would you always answer?"

You pause to think, but Mark takes that as confirmation.

"Have you thought about what I said? 6 months ago when I asked if you wanted to be friends again? Or even get back together?"

"That question keeps me awake every night," you joke, "But today, when I was just looking out at the fans and greeting the idols that came backstage after the concert, it really made me think about how much I wanted to be doing all of this with you. I've always regretted what happened between us because it wasn't a choice I wanted to make. There are no words to describe the way that love manifests in front of you from the fans. I always find myself wishing you were still here by my side."

"Hm, cryptic. Is that an answer to my question or do I have to wait another 6 months to call you up and ask again?"

"How long are you going to keep asking?" you uttered, the feeling of disappointment taking over your body as you still couldn't find the courage to finally give in and allow yourself to be happy.

"Until you say yes again."

-

JULY 2020

The world was still shut as you knew it, yet you were halfway around the world from the place you grew to call home. Your company was generous to give you two months off to spend with your loved ones, and you chose to spend some time cooped up in your parents' house and your childhood home because even though there were so many quarantining requirements to get between the two countries, you hadn't seen your parents in almost 3 years.

Of course, you missed your members, but you lived with them and would continue to see them nearly every day for as long as you could keep your career going. Of course, you missed Mark, but it's not like you could go and see him anyway with the tough restrictions imposed on the Korean citizens.

There was also one big- scratch that- giant problem looming over your and your company's heads. The bane of your existence and public enemy number 1 Dispatch had dangled over your heads the threat of releasing the photos they had grabbed of you and Mark abroad in Vancouver at the start of the year. It wouldn't have been damning evidence considering it was the only photo set they had acquired of the two of you, but you were holding hands with your eyes clearly in view. 

Your companies had threatened to sue, of course, but Dispatch has never been scared. Then, your companies tried to play the guilt-trip card and interrogate them on why they would care to do such a thing when the world was suffering enough as it is. Alas, nothing got through to Dispatch. Eventually, your companies surrendered to pay a preposterous amount to get rid of the problem and it probably didn't even make a dent in SM's savings, but it surely hurt your growing but small company even if SM took the majority of the bill. 

It was completely eating you up and tearing your insides to know that because of your slip-up with Mark, the trainees in your company had to get their debut pushed back by a good probable few years.

Mark had been the perfect boyfriend, supporting you through your change to your new company and your short training period before your debut. Mark had been there to metaphorically hold your hand as you got to know the other girls and make lifelong sister bonds out of it. Mark had been there to cheer you on in the early mornings when you were doing your first few stages. Mark had been there when your first comeback did even better than your debut and propelled you to the top of the industry.

So why, oh why, were you thinking about whether being together is good for everyone involved? There you found yourself in a dark room, the phone next to your head as soft cries and hiccups escaped your lips.

"Baby, please tell me what's wrong. I hate when you cry and it's really hurting me that I'm not there with you right now. Do you want me to come there? Cause I will! I'll say I'm sick or something." he's rambling through the phone and you can hear that it's raining heavily in Seoul.

"Mark, you know that I love you right?"

"Of course I do," he coos gently, "And you're my once-in-a-lifetime great love. I love you too, baby. What's wrong?"

You don't even believe the words that come out of your mouth when you whisper them, "I can't do this anymore Mark. I think we need to break up."

"What? Y/N, this is not funny," his voice instantly turns serious.

"I'm sorry Mark, but I'm serious," you're sobbing at this point and you're surprised he can even still understand you, "I really don't want to do this but-"

"So why are you doing this? Look, let's just talk when you get back, okay? You're coming home soon, right? Or I can take a flight there, but baby, don't make these rash decisions- we're just missing each other."

"The guilt is eating me up, Mark," you confess in hushed tones, "I feel like I don't deserve to be happy. And every time I'm with you, I feel only this sense of anxiety about being caught together that I can't shake. I love you so much, Mark, but I don't know why I feel like this."

"Y/N, we've dealt with so much over the years and we've fought through everything together! We can work through this together, I promise. Just give me some time to think about what to do and everything will be okay-" he's crying now too and it breaks your heart to hear it because he barely ever cries, "I'll get the company to pay yours back what you paid to those assholes. Come on, baby."

"Mark," you whimper, "I ruined the company. I don't want to hurt my members either. Even if we admit to dating, imagine the hate that my group will face! I don't want to let them down any more than I already have."

"I'll tell the fans to not hate- Y/N just tell me what I can do to stop whatever this break-up idea in your head is. We're meant to be, Y/N. We're each other's perfect match."

"I don't love you any less, Mark. Please remember that. I need to do this for my members and for my company that took a leap of faith in me. I don't want to walk away from you, but I don't see any other choice. I don't want to hurt you or your members either. I can't be seen with you."

His voice is small and strained, "You're breaking my heart, Y/N."

"And I'm never going to forgive myself for it."

-

EARLY 2018

This was definitely the hardest decision of your life and it wasn't one that you took lightly either. It was something you had been thinking about for over a year and more intensely when the company started to press you on extending your exclusive training contract.

Herin Seo had entered SM just before you did and she lived and trained with you. She was your best friend outside of Mark and it broke your heart when she left the company only after 4 years in 2017. There were only a few months left on her contract, but she was desperate to get an out and an idol survival show finally gave her the motivation to break free.

Right now, she's taking the seat in front of you after setting down your favourite drinks from your favourite cafe that she still remembers, "Iced vanilla matcha latte for me and an iced oat latte for my best friend."

"You're the best Herin! My treat next time," you promise as you take the first sip. It's been a while since you've come to the café since it hurts to go when it used to be your spot with Herin.

"Well better be soon because I'm leaving in 5 days," she pouts, "I'm sorry I could only come to visit for a short time."

"It's okay. I'm glad to see you anyway after all these months," you grin, "How's settling back in Manchester?"

"I mean it's always been home but it took me a few months to really get to grips with the fact that I wasn't leaving after a week like I did when I would visit during my training. It's really weird to know England is now my permanent home and that I'm going to start school again there," she looks outside the large window that overlooks the river, "I really really miss Seoul."

You take her hand and muster your best comforting smile, "I'm really sorry that things didn't turn out how we wanted them to."

"Ha, it's not your fault Y/N. I mean, you're in the same boat; what are you planning to do with this contract thing?"

You sigh at the age-old question that's been plaguing your mind for months. In fact, your meeting with the company to decide your future was tomorrow and you still had no concrete idea of what you wanted, "I really don't know Herin. SM has been everything I've known for 5 years and everyone I love is at the company. I don't even know how to switch agencies or what happens at other agencies. At the same time, I know they're planning for a group soon, but I have this feeling that I can't shake when I think about it. I look at Jimin and Minjeong and my sweet baby Yizhou and I don't think I'm what the company wants."

"But they've invested so much time and money into you!" Herin furrows her eyebrows, "Surely they're building a group around you, Yizhuo, Koeun, Lami, and Hina! We were a pre-debut team! They can't just disregard all of you guys, right?"

"I wouldn't put it past them," you're fiddling nervously with your hands, "They've been good to me, but they're a business at the end of the day. I'm so torn up and I was thinking you could help me. How did you know that you wanted to leave the company?"

She thinks for a while before answering your question, "Well the survival show was just the reason why I left before my contract was up, but I already knew that I wasn't going to stay on and re-sign. For me, it just felt like I had more to give, but the environment I was in wasn't letting me grow anymore. I felt like there was nothing more I could give to SM. Even though Idol School didn't work out for me, I was still glad that I went."

You nod along to her story, "I haven't told anyone about this Herin. Mark's been bugging me about my terms for re-signing my contract, so I don't think it's even fathomable for him for me to leave."

"It's about you, Y/N. This is your story, your career, and your decision. There are going to be a lot of people that are going to be hurt or angry, but they will never understand what you're going through. Especially not the people who already debuted," Herin advises, "Look, talk about it with Mark tonight, and don't leave it until after your meeting because that might hurt more, but if he really loved you and wanted what's best for you, he would trust in your decision."

"You're right Herin. Thanks for being there for me."

So, you called Mark later on that night to come over. You had cooked up a few dishes for you to share and asked your dorm mates if they could give you a few hours for some alone time. Telling Mark was definitely going to be hard, but you couldn't imagine the conversation with the girls, who were going to be the most hurt. You remember when Herin left- you weren't angry, but you were overwhelmingly sad about the thought of the girl you started your journey with not being there anymore. That was when you started to question if you should still be there too, but you were scared to instill this thought in your other younger trainees that maybe thought they still had a chance.

"Hi baby," Mark is beaming when you open the door to him. He quickly shuts the door behind him with his foot and wraps you up in a tight hug, making sure to plant a kiss on your lips and then all over your face, "I missed your gorgeous face so much- oh my God the apartment smells so good! What did you cook?"

"Just some beef and rice," you lead him over to the dining table with the food set out already.

"Oh my gosh, you're so amazing," Mark smooches your cheek affectionately and takes his seat on the table. You had lived at the dorm for your whole time at SM and along the way, Mark had chosen his own seat at your dining table for when you had dinners inside, which was almost every date you shared.

You start with small talk, letting him eat and enjoy his meal before you inevitably break a little bit of his precious heart. You hadn't seen Mark for a few days since he was busy with some schedules, so he tells you all about the boys and what they've been up to recently. They're working on the biggest project NCT has ever done so far- a full 18-member release- and it's going spectacularly well. The album itself was a few weeks out, but each unit had been dropping some songs along the way.

"Babe, the company is throwing a release party when the album drops in a few weeks! Isn't that so exciting? They actually asked us what food we want at the party so we're all going crazy. I think Hyuck asked for a fondue fountain, so I'm dying to see if they'll actually give that," he's chuckling, halfway through his plate, "Do you have any special requests?"

Okay, deep breath. Now's the time. It's all or nothing.

"Actually Mark, I invited you over to talk about something," you begin and the smile on his face drops at your warning tone, "Please don't be upset with me."

"Ah, what's wrong?" he's pouting and you have to look away to get the strength to say what you need to. If you looked in his eyes any longer, you would find some reason to convince you to stay just for him.

"My contract meeting is tomorrow," you gulp, "I'm going to leave the company, Mark."

The sound of his chair scraping against the floor makes you cringe, "What? Y/N, what? What do you mean you're leaving the company? Where are you going to go? Why didn't you tell me?"

"I just made up my mind today, Mark. I'm sorry I didn't confide in you, but this was a decision I had to make for myself," tears are welling up along your lash line, "I spoke to Herin today and I realised that the only thing making me stay any longer was you."

"But you're so close to debut!" he's arguing pleadingly, crouching beside you and holding your hand, "Babe, I can't imagine this company without you."

"I'm not Mark. You know that I'm not any closer to debut than I was when I joined 5 years ago. You're indispensable to this company, but I'm really not," you expressed, "I don't want to leave and I love you, your boys, and my girls, but I think this is what's best for me."

"But where are you going to go?" Mark sniffles, "I love you so much Y/N, but what's going to happen to us?"

You shake your head at his insinuations, "No, Mark. Don't worry. Nothing's going to happen to us and I'll make sure that whatever company I join will know about us and protect us. I hope you'll find it in you to forgive me for this."

He stands up and wraps his arms around you from above, "I'm sorry for reacting this way Y/N, but there's nothing for you to be sorry for. I trust you, okay? I love you and I want you to do what's best for you. I know I can't make decisions for you, but I'll try my best to support you however I can."

You look up at him with adoration dripping from your eyes, "I love you, Mark. We're going to be okay, yeah?"

He brings his head down and connects your lips in the most love-filled way that your heart explodes in that familiar overwhelming feeling that Mark always seems to do to you, "We're going to be okay, baby."

-

LATE 2022

The world was playing a sick joke on you- it really was. There was no way your whole career wasn't just some April Fools' prank or that you weren't just the main target of some joke show.

You always prided yourself on being close with the company's staff and higher-ups. As a leader of your group, you felt that it was integral to your success that you were able to communicate your wishes and worries to the company and this gave you more creative freedom too. Apparently, the company too was getting more comfortable with you.

"What did you just say?" your eyes were incredulous, peering towards your sheepish CEO, "That's actually the worst idea I've ever heard in my life."

"Look, Y/N, you wanted a feature on your song," your CEO chuckles at your response, "I think this is an amazing idea."

"You're literally giving Dispatch a green light to release those photos. Do you want me to email you a picture of me and Mark making out so you can just tweet it from the official account?" you counter, "Why in the hell would having my ex-boyfriend feature on my solo debut title track be anything short of a terrible idea?"

"Mark is incredibly famous and incredibly talented," she begins, counting with her fingers, "You have high standards. We have a good relationship with SM Entertainment. Your fans love shipping the two of you together since you're in the same age group."

"He's also my ex-boyfriend. Is that not extremely problematic? Everyone will hyper analyse every interaction we have or have had and then they're actually going to figure out that we dated." you ponder, "The worst part of this all is that I know he would say yes if his company lets him."

"Exactly- he's your ex-boyfriend, not your current one. By all logic, he's now just another fellow idol or colleague that you can collaborate with. Anyway, SM will definitely say yes; look how many of their idols are in relationships or at least feature on tracks."

"This is all Crush and Joy's fault," you groan, looking at the pleased expression on your CEO's face knowing that she had won the argument.

When your company proposed the idea of having a solo debut to you half a year ago, you had vehemently declined the opportunity, citing it wouldn't be beneficial to your group as a whole and that you wanted to be known for your group and not your individuality. Your members, on the other hand, had different ideas and talked you into at least hearing out the company. You had really only agreed to the debut when they told you that they would give you full musical freedom and the help that you personally requested. It only seemed like a good idea when you realised that someone in the group needs to be the one to start doing solo activities so the rest of the group can follow suit. You've always known that Jian has been curious about acting.

So you find yourself swiveling in your chair in the studio, waiting for Mark to find his way to the room. It's your first time working together for your solo debut and the last time you had spoken to him was a text he sent you asking if you actually wanted him to feature on the track before he gave a response to his company. You begrudgingly replied a yes because even though you still didn't think it was a good idea, you couldn't imagine yourself working with anyone other than Mark. The industry was crazy sometimes.

The knocking on the door snapped you out of your thoughts and you jumped up to open it to Mark Lee holding two cups on the other side.

"Hey pretty. I got us some coffee," he pushes a cup into your hand and you move aside to let him in, "How are you?"

"Don't call me pretty," you mumble as you turn away to hide the blush starting to appear on your cheeks, "But I'm okay. It's getting busier with the holidays coming up, so you know how that is, but the company thought this time was a great time to work on my debut."

"I feel you," Mark grimaces, taking a seat on the other spinning chair, "Don't tell anyone but Dream is actually having another comeback. It's going to be out just before Christmas."

"Another one?" your eyes widen in shock, "But you just released 2 Baddies and I know you definitely have a repackage soon!"

"Yeah, it's hard to be part of both units," he sighs, "Cause our new album will be over 6 months out from Beatbox, but only 3 months from 2 Baddies. Whatever, you know I love what I do."

"Doesn't mean you don't get tired," you cross your arms, "Now I feel bad having you on this track. You are way too busy, Mark! Why didn't you or your company say no?"

He shakes his head to reassure you, "Nah, trust me Y/N; you're exactly the break I need from the boys. Besides, I've never had the chance to formally work with you, so why would I give up the opportunity when it comes? We always made a great team back then."

You smile fondly, thinking about all those times when you and Mark were young teenagers and would huddle up in the practice rooms writing songs together and creating melodies on your guitars.

"I guess we did. Anyway, have a listen to this track. It's just something I wrote a while ago, but it always seemed unfinished so I thought that a feature would complete it," you hand him a pair of headphones and gesture over to your laptop with the track already loaded up, "If you like it, you can do your part in the second verse, but otherwise we can start from scratch."

You watch his face as he listens to the song and you're endeared to find out he still carries the same habit of letting his face do all the talking whenever he's listening to something new. His head is bobbing up and down as he nods along to the song and you can easily tell which parts he likes.

"So, what do you think?" you inquire.

He has a grin on his face, "I love it! Honestly! It's a cute song about a crush, I guess?"

"Yeah, I didn't want to go with any song that's lyrically strong for my debut. This song's pretty unassuming and you know how important it is to the companies to have a general public-friendly song," you shrug. They didn't really explicitly give you guidelines, but you knew what the company was really looking for- a hit, "Can you work with that beat? I'll send you the song of course and you don't have to rush or anything."

"I'll see what I can do," Mark teases, "Can I get an insider sneak peek at the rest of the album? You know, feature perks and all of that."

You flush even redder than when he complimented you earlier, "I'm going to be so honest Mark, the whole album is about you. Every song I've written is about you."

He shrugs casually, "I would've figured. You're a big inspiration to my writing too. Is that a no, then?"

You decide that there was no point shying away from Mark's request, considering that he would end up hearing each and every song whenever your album came out anyway. Plus, the two of you were artists and you understood being each others' muse- good or bad. Mark had seen you in every vulnerable state possible. Showing him your songs that you were comfortable enough to release to the public anyway was nothing to you.

"You can listen."

You don't bother giving Mark any explanations for any song- he's the one that lived through these experiences with you. You leave him with your tracklist on the laptop and tell him you would leave him for a few moments to grab some lunch for the two of you in the company cafeteria. You were hoping it was going to be a quick trip down and back up, but you had run into a producer you were also working with on the album, and that gave Mark at least 5 songs worth of time alone.

What you hadn't expected upon returning was to find Mark crying softly, his sweater paws rubbing at his eyes.

"Mark? Are you crying?"

Your surprise caused him to jump up and frantically wipe away his tears, "Ha. That's a really sad album, huh?"

The guilt continues to eat you up from the inside out, "I'm not going to release all of them, I think. A few sad songs and fill the rest in with inconspicuous tracks."

"Well your songs are beautiful anyway," he gives you a pained smile, "You're an amazing writer. I just wish I wasn't the cause of your pain."

"Hey," you scold softly, bumping his arm with yours, "Don't say that. You were nothing but amazing to me. You made me so happy. It was just the circumstances around us."

He chuckled bitterly to himself, "If we weren't famous- if this industry wasn't so vicious, I would still have you?"

"Mark," you warn, but he cuts you off.

"Have you thought about what I asked you?" he interrupts, "It's been a year, you know? I still miss you."

"Mark, it's not that easy," you counter, "Nothing's changed!"

"It's either you want to be with me or you don't. Don't skirt around it and just tell me the truth, okay? It would really make working together easier if I know where we stand. I won't stop fighting for us until you tell me to stop, so tell me what you want, Y/N," Mark pleads, standing up to face you, "I'm sorry for springing it out of nowhere, but I need to know. I can't move on until I know to let you go."

You hate yourself for what you did to Mark. He was the boy that taught you how to love and how to love patiently, sincerely, and passionately. He was the boy that held your hand and rubbed your back when you cried and the boy that celebrated every success with you. He was the boy that told you how proud he was of you, even every time you felt like the world was collapsing around you. He was the boy who would lay kisses on your forehead and whisper sweet nothings in your ear whenever you faced another setback. He was the boy that made flowers bloom out of your heart from his kind gestures and the way he showed you how much he loved you. And if nothing else, Mark was the boy that made you happy.

You remember a conversation with your youngest member the night before. You had confided in her how nervous you were to work with Mark and she lectured you on finally letting yourself be happy. You were already a 4-year idol and Mark was coming onto 7 years. You weren't rookies anymore and you had solid fanbases. It was clear that the companies weren't extremely opposed to revealing that the two of you were dating back then, so she told you that it would be fine now. Kali told you, rather cliché-ly, that the heart wants what it wants and your heart has been screaming and begging from Mark since the second you ended that phone call with him all those years ago.

"Y/N?"

"Mark," you meet his eyes and melt all over again, "It's you, Mark."

Mark wraps one arm around your waist and pulls you tighter. The other hand reaches up to your face to brush your hair out of your face and cradle your cheek as he brings it up to his own face. Your noses are almost touching as Mark lays it all bare for you, "Do you love me or do you not, Y/N?"

"I do," the feeling is cathartic when you finally tell him and when he finally presses his lips in a searing kiss that sets off all the fireworks in your heart. The feeling of Mark is familiar, but the kiss is longing and hopeful and you can't get enough.

You're both panting when he breaks the kiss and he rests his forehead against yours as he laughs softly in relief. He's been waiting to do that for over 2 years.

"I need you back, Y/N. It's been the worst 2 years of my life," he whispers against your lips, "Please come back."

You smile when he opens his eyes. They're that shade you grew to love all those years ago and they're sparkling like the day he first asked you to be his girlfriend.

Nothing's changed in your environment, that's for sure. What you're also sure about is that each time you see Mark again, you feel a little braver and more courageous. Each time Mark tells you that he loves you even though you shattered his heart like glass, you feel like his love can get you through anything. Maybe you needed those 2 years to see what you were missing or maybe you were just stupid.

Whatever. All you know now is that even 2 years on, Mark Lee is still begging for your love and your brain is losing out in its battle against your heart. It might've taken you two years, but now you see that all you need is Mark Lee by your side to get through the torrential storm that was heading your way and that you were going to get out on the other side to a bright and sunny sky, as long as he was holding your hand and leading you.

You place a kiss on his lips that tells him all he needs to know, "I'm here, Mark. It's always been you. You've always been the one. Always."

[spiderm444rk]

LOST IN TRANSLATION - mark lee smau

2) don’t do anything stupid

──⭒─⭑─⭒────⭒─⭑─⭒────⭒─⭑─

A/N: my roommate went on a vacation and i have literally nothing to do until she comes back so i’ll be updating every day for now 🫶🏻

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˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚ taglist: @chenlesfavorite @injunnie-lemon @cyjzzl @morkiee @aek1ra @luvtyunn @nosungluv @mystverse @kittydollzz @6682dni @urslytherin

[leejenowrld]

‘love me back?’ — part 1

pairing — mark lee x reader

word count — 22.2k words

genre — angst, smut, fluff, strangers to lovers, forbidden love

synopsis — mark lee goes from being the quiet kid at the river court to the star basketball player on campus, reigniting old tensions with his brother, jeno. as jeno’s girlfriend, you’re pulled into the rivalry, but it’s mark who captivates you. his touch, his presence—he stirs something deep inside you that you can’t shake. as the tension between the brothers grows, so does your forbidden connection with mark, forcing you to confront where your heart—and body—truly belong.

chapter contents/warnings — college au, small town vibes, 2000s teen show vibes, this fic is heavily based on one tree hill, reader is in a relationship with jeno but it’s far from healthy or loving, depictions of lust and physical connection rather than emotional intimacy, slow burn with emotional (and sexual) tension between reader and mark, basketball is a heavy theme, mark being a key player, reader uses drugs and drinks to avoid facing her emotions, struggles with communication and vulnerability, messy dynamics with themes of abandonment and insecurity, escapism, toxic sibling rivalry between jeno and mark, oooh guys jeno is a jerk! bad boyfriend jeno, explicit sexual content involving rough and emotionally detached interactions with jeno, reader makes out with mark, soft mark, emo boy mark, confident mark, understated and hot mark, references to drug and alcohol use as coping mechanisms, swearing, explicit language and competitive sports tension.

[fic ml]

ONE — TWO — THREE — FOUR — FIVE

───────────────────────────────

The air in the room is thick and hazy, the low-hanging smoke curling in lazy spirals above your heads, seeping into the fabric of your clothes and the sheets. The bedside table is cluttered with half-empty bottles—beers, vodka mixers—and a vape pen with a fading light. The faint scent of weed lingers, clinging to the mess of discarded clothes on the floor. It should feel comforting, familiar, but it doesn’t. Everything feels muted, dulled, like you’re watching your life from a distance, the numbness settling deeper with each passing second.

Jeno lies beside you, shirtless, his body warm against yours. Your head rests on his chest, where his heartbeat thuds unevenly, just as it always has—never steady enough to soothe you, never grounding like you wanted it to be. Tonight, it feels even more erratic, like something inside him is pulling further away. Your fingers trace lazy circles over his skin, the motion slow, almost mechanical. It’s a routine now—this closeness that never truly feels close.

He’s quiet, too quiet, and it irritates you more than it should. You inhale sharply, the vape pen slipping between your lips before you exhale through your nose. Shifting closer, you press a kiss against his neck, letting your lips linger longer than usual, hoping he’ll respond. But there’s nothing—not a sigh, not a flicker of acknowledgment. Just the steady rise and fall of his chest, his mind somewhere far beyond the room. You pull away, frustrated, the weight of the past hour pressing down on you.

“Jeno,” you murmur, your voice catching slightly, as if the words are stuck in your throat. Your lips linger near his jaw, hoping for a reaction, for something to pull him back to you. But all you feel is the faint twitch of his hand on your waist, a gesture that once held desire but now feels empty, mechanical. It’s not what you’re looking for, not tonight.

You move again, this time more insistent, straddling his waist, your hands pressing against his chest, trying to ground yourself—or maybe trying to ground him. You tilt his chin toward you, forcing his eyes to meet yours, but they’re glassy, distant, reflecting the dull light of the lamp more than any real emotion. “Are you even here?” you ask, half-joking, but the frustration behind your words cuts through the haze in the air.

“Yeah,” he mutters, but there’s no conviction in his voice. His eyes flicker to the ceiling again, avoiding yours, like he’s searching for an answer there that he can’t find in you.

You let out a sharp breath, your fingers tightening on his chest as you lean down, brushing your lips against his in a kiss that’s supposed to feel familiar, intimate. But even then, his response is slow, almost hesitant, like he’s going through the motions, doing what’s expected but feeling none of it.

Your heart sinks a little, and you pull back just enough to study his face, the way his jaw tenses and his gaze remains distant. The dim light casts long shadows across his features, making him look older, more worn down than he should. Something is eating at him, gnawing at the edges of whatever you have left between you.

“What’s wrong with you?” The words come out more accusatory than you intend, but the irritation bubbling inside you won’t let it rest. You both know what this is—it’s been like this for months now. Physical, surface-level. No connection. No real emotion. But tonight, it feels worse. Heavier.

He finally shifts beneath you, his fingers brushing against your hip, but there’s no spark in the touch, no warmth. “It’s nothing,” he says, his voice thin, barely more than a whisper.

“You always say that,” you mutter, the words bitter as they leave your mouth. You push yourself off of him, sitting at the edge of the bed, your hands in your lap as you glance over at the cluttered mess around you. Bottles, smoke, scattered clothes. It’s all a blur. “Is this really what we are now? Me trying, and you always somewhere else?”

You run a hand through your hair, glancing over your shoulder at him. Jeno doesn’t answer right away. He just rubs his face with his hand, his other arm falling limp beside him, like even the effort of responding is too much. “It’s just the game tomorrow,” he mumbles, but his words lack conviction.

“The game?” You repeat, incredulous. You turn to face him fully now, your frustration spilling over. “You’re thinking about basketball right now? We’re here, and all you care about is some stupid game?”

Jeno sits up, finally breaking the contact between you. His hands are tight, clenched in the sheets as he avoids your gaze. “It’s not just the game,” he snaps, his voice sharper now, the edge of something deeper cutting through. “It’s Mark.”

The name lands heavier than you expect. Mark Lee. Jeno’s half-brother. The one he rarely mentions, the one who has always been at the edges of your awareness but you’ve never had a reason to think about him. You’ve seen him around but only from a distance. He was never at the parties, never a part of the crowd Jeno ran with, always separate. always… distant. Mark’s never really mattered to you. Until now.

“What about him?” You ask, your voice slower, more careful.

Jeno lets out a short, bitter laugh. “He’s back,” he says, the frustration creeping into his voice.

“Back how?” You mumble, feeling the tension building. Mark had been around since you and Jeno were children but he had always been a part of the background, you never expected that to change. 

Jeno shifts beside you, you watch his jaw clench, his fists tightening on the sheets. “Back into my life. Out of nowhere. He’s on the team now—just showed up like he had something to prove, and Coach didn’t waste a second. Benched me, gave him my spot.” The words are clipped, tight with barely concealed anger.

You sit there, trying to process it. You’ve seen him before, alone at the river court after hours, earbuds in, completely disconnected from the world you and Jeno are a part of. Calm, composed, like nothing touches him. It strikes you how different he is — how he’s always stood apart from Jeno’s chaos. 

He pauses, jaw clenched, and you can feel the anger bubbling underneath, the years of resentment suddenly in the open. “My dad’s losing it. He never wanted Mark around. Hated him from the beginning—he’s always seen him as the mistake, the one thing he can’t stand to face. But now Mark’s back, and it’s like this unspoken challenge. Like Mark’s here to prove he’s better, or he can take everything that’s mine.”

You shift uncomfortably, unsure how to respond to the intensity of his words. “Jeno… I’m sure it’s not that deep. It’s literally just basketball.”

His gaze snaps to you, deadpan. Anger flickers in his expression, a tightness in his jaw that hadn’t been there moments before. You’ve said the wrong thing. You can feel it. He looks at you like you don’t get it—like you don’t understand him at all.

There’s something wild in his eyes now, something untamed. “It’s never just been basketball,” he says, voice sharp, frustration lacing every word. “He’s always wanted everything I have. He’s always been there, lurking. And now he’s coming for everything—my spot, my life.” He pauses, his voice dropping lower, quieter, almost as if he’s afraid to say it out loud. “And you.”

The words hang heavy in the air, sinking into the silence that stretches between you. You stare at him, stunned, trying to process what he’s just said. And you. A chill runs through you. For a moment, you don’t know how to respond, how to make sense of what he’s implying.

───────────────────────────────

Jeno pulls up to the river court erratically, tires skidding on the gravel as he parks. The way he moves—quick, aggressive—mirrors the tension that’s been building between him and Mark for days. You’d rather be anywhere but here, surrounded by the weight of this impending showdown, but for Jeno, this is his element. He thrives in moments like these, where all eyes are on him, where the crowd fuels his need for attention and validation. Every glance, every whispered conversation from the sidelines—Jeno drinks it all in, the girls batting their eyes at him only adding to his confidence.

You feel the stares too. You and Jeno aren’t just well-known—you’re desired. The kind of couple everyone talks about, whispers about behind your backs. People want to be you or be with you. You’ve seen the way their eyes follow you both, lingering a little too long, filled with envy and something darker. It’s intoxicating, usually. But tonight, the attention feels heavier, more suffocating, like it’s pressing down on you, trapping you in this moment where everything feels like it’s about to break.

The river court itself is buzzing, the atmosphere charged with anticipation. The sky is a muted purple as dusk settles in, casting a hazy glow over the court. The river runs just beyond, the sound of water rushing in the background, a soft but constant reminder of the tension flowing through this moment. The court is cracked, worn from years of use, but it has a certain rawness to it—gritty, real. The streetlights flicker to life as people gather along the edges, their shadows long and looming over the pavement. There’s a strange energy in the air, a mix of excitement and unease, as more people file in. Jeno’s supporters are far bigger, louder, their voices filling the space. They want a show, and Jeno is ready to give it to them.

“Welcome to the river court showdown!” Lee Donghyuck’s voice cuts through the murmurs, playful and dramatic as he addresses the growing crowd. You don’t know him well—he’s Mark’s best friend, always lingering in the background. His narration carries a light-hearted tone, but the way his eyes flick between Mark and Jeno makes it clear: this is personal. “Ladies and gentlemen, the stakes are high, and you can feel the intensity in the air. We’ve got a battle of the brothers tonight. Mark Lee, our underdog, taking on the one and only Jeno Lee.”

Your gaze shifts to Jeno as he steps onto the court, confidence radiating from him as he bounces the basketball in his hands, his eyes scanning the crowd like a predator surveying his territory. Across from him, Mark stands still, calm. He doesn’t thrive on the attention like Jeno does—he doesn’t even seem to notice the crowd. His focus is entirely on the game, his eyes sharp, determined.

Donghyuck’s voice carries on, “In one corner, we have Jeno—star player, campus legend. And in the other, Mark—cool, calm, and collected, with everything to lose.” There’s a hint of admiration in his tone when he talks about Mark, and you catch yourself paying closer attention to him too. You’ve never really noticed Mark before, but now, as he steps forward, there’s something about the way he carries himself that draws you in. The quiet confidence, the determination in his eyes… it’s hard not to watch him.

The game starts fast. Jeno wastes no time, dribbling aggressively, his body coiled with energy, every movement sharp, intentional. Mark, on the other hand, is methodical, almost serene in the way he moves, his eyes never leaving the ball. Jeno talks trash as they play, his voice loud enough for the crowd to hear. “You don’t belong here, Mark. This isn’t your world.”

Mark doesn’t respond, his focus unwavering. You can see it—the way his eyes track the ball, his calm under pressure. He’s not here to prove anything to Jeno; he’s here for himself. Every shot Mark takes is calculated, precise. He moves with a fluidity that surprises you, and you catch yourself watching more intently than you expected, noticing the subtle shift in his posture, the way his eyes sharpen when he finds an opening. There’s something intimate in the way he plays, an art to his determination that makes it impossible not to be drawn in.

“And Mark with the shot—boom! Nothing but net!” Donghyuck’s voice is filled with excitement, and the crowd reacts with gasps. You can hear the surprise rippling through them. Jeno wasn’t expecting this, and neither were they. “He’s got game, ladies and gentlemen. Jeno might have his work cut out for him.”

Jeno’s frustration grows with each point Mark scores. You can see it in the way his movements become more frantic, more desperate to overpower Mark. But Mark doesn’t falter. He doesn’t need to respond to Jeno’s taunts, and doesn't need to engage in the mind games. His eyes are always on the prize, his determination unshakable.

As the game continues, it’s clear that Jeno underestimated his brother. Mark isn’t just holding his own—he’s thriving. Each basket he makes feels like a step out of the shadow Jeno has cast over him for so long. For Jeno, this is about dominance, about keeping Mark out of his world. But for Mark, it’s about more than that. It’s about carving out his own place, about proving he can hold his own.

Jeno dribbles back, eyes narrowing as he pulls up from way beyond the three-point line, his body coiling with the kind of confidence that comes from years of dominance on the court. His movements are fluid, almost graceful as he rises to take the shot, the ball leaving his fingertips in a perfect arc. For a second, it looks like it’s going in—like he’s about to remind everyone why he’s the best. But just as the ball reaches its peak, Mark appears out of nowhere, launching himself into the air, his arm extending at just the right angle to block it. 

Donghyuck's voice bursts out in excitement, “Jeno shoots… and misses!” he pauses, eyes wide with amazement, “holy crap, did you see that? Someday men will write stories about that block, children will be named after that block and Argentinian women will weep for it!”

The sound of the ball slapping against his hand echoes through the court, followed by the stunned gasps from the crowd. Jeno stumbles back, shock and disbelief flickering across his face as the ball ricochets away, the confidence he’d had only moments ago shattered.

“Mark with the rebound. He’s fast. He’s focused.” Donghyuck’s playful tone turns serious as the game nears its end. The tension in the crowd is palpable, and you can’t help but feel it too. But more than that, you’re watching Mark now—really watching him. The way he doesn’t let anything distract him, the quiet intensity in his eyes as he takes his final shot. There’s something about him in this moment that feels… different. It’s not an attraction, not yet, but a subtle curiosity. The way he moves, the determination etched into every step—it draws you in, and you can’t help but wonder what else lies beneath that calm exterior.

“And that’s it! Mark Lee wins!” Donghyuck shouts as the crowd erupts, the shock clear on everyone’s faces. Mark’s friends swarm the court, cheering loudly, their celebration unrestrained. You watch them from the sidelines, a small, subtle smile pulling at your lips. You don’t know why, but seeing Mark win… it makes you happy. There’s something about it that feels right, like you’ve been waiting for this moment without even realising it. You haven’t smiled like this in so long.

Jeno walks toward you, his face twisted in frustration and defeat. “It’s not a big deal,” you say quietly, trying to diffuse the tension. 

Jeno laughs, though it’s not a sound filled with humour. “He’s not gonna quit the team now. I lost the bet.”

You raise an eyebrow. “You bet on it?”

Jeno’s face hardens, and the way he looks at you makes your heart skip a beat, but not in a good way. His silence is unsettling, and you can feel the shift in the air between you. “What did he bet if he won?” you ask, your voice quieter now, a sinking feeling creeping into your chest.

Jeno looks at you, his jaw tight. “You. He bet that he gets you.”

The words hit you like a slap, the weight of them sinking in slowly. You’re stunned, unsure how to feel. Part of you is angry at Jeno, furious that he would treat you like an object in some stupid rivalry. But another part of you—the part that watched Mark play tonight, the part that saw something different in him—can’t shake the way you felt watching him on that court.

───────────────────────────────

The drive back to Jeno’s house is suffocating, the silence hanging heavy in the air like a storm about to break. You’ve tried speaking, tried breaking through the wall he’s built around himself, but he just stares straight out of the window, his jaw clenched tight as if he’s grinding through every word he doesn’t want to say. His silence grates on you, each passing second tightening the coil of frustration in your chest.

Finally, you snap, your voice cutting through the tense atmosphere like a blade. “Why the fuck would you agree to let me get involved in any type of bet? Aren’t you my boyfriend? Aren’t you supposed to protect me?”

Jeno doesn’t answer, doesn’t even turn to look at you. His expression remains stony, detached, like you’re not even there. It’s as if every emotion between you is locked behind that clenched jaw. The frustration inside you bubbles over, boiling under your skin as he pulls up to his apartment, the car jerking to a stop. Before you can say anything more, he throws the door open, slams it shut, and storms toward the house, leaving you sitting there, stunned.

You follow him, heart pounding, already knowing what you’re about to walk into. But it still hits harder than you expect when you push through the front door: another one of his fucking parties.

The bass from the music vibrates through the floor, the walls practically shaking from the force of it. The air inside is thick—sweat, alcohol, smoke—all mingling into a nauseating fog that clings to everything. Half the campus seems to be packed into the house, bodies pressed together, laughing, shouting, grinding. It’s chaos. It’s chaotic, a celebration party that was meant to mark Jeno’s victory but he lost. He didn’t expect to lose so now he’s throwing himself into this mess, trying to forget how Mark beat him.

Jeno doesn’t even glance your way as he strides straight into the centre of the party. The second he steps inside, the energy shifts. All eyes are on him. Girls bat their eyelashes, offering coy smiles and glances, waiting for him to notice. The guys are quick to slap him on the back, giving him their usual praise, eager to bask in the glow of his attention. He soaks it up, drinks it in like it’s the only thing keeping him afloat.

Without a second thought, he’s gone, swallowed by the crowd. You stand there, invisible, feeling like an afterthought. You watch as Jeno gravitates toward a group of girls, the kind you’ve seen around before—the ones who always seem to be in his orbit, looking for a chance to get close. They laugh at something he says, their hands grazing his arm, their gazes hungry. And Jeno, your supposed boyfriend, leans into it.

You watch as one of the girls, dressed in a tight, glittering dress, dances close to him, her body pressed against his as they move to the beat. Jeno’s hands rest on her waist for just a second—nothing more than a passing touch, but it’s enough to sting. Enough to make your stomach twist. She leans in to whisper something in his ear, and he smirks. It’s a look you’ve seen before—not necessarily malicious, just confident, like he’s always known how to handle this kind of attention. His eyes are a bit hazy, a mix of alcohol and the mood of the night, and he doesn’t even glance in your direction.

The other girls join in, dancing around him, their bodies brushing against his as the music pulses through the room. Jeno doesn’t move away, doesn’t stop them, but he’s not exactly encouraging it either. He lets it happen, lets them touch him, lets the night sweep him up. You know it’s not about forgetting you, not about pushing boundaries—Jeno’s always had this natural pull, the kind that draws people in without him even trying. But tonight, it feels different, harder to shake off, like he’s just letting the moment take him, unaware of how much it’s affecting you.

Your chest tightens, and you stand there, rooted in place. It’s not like this is the first time—Jeno’s always been the guy who draws attention effortlessly, always the one people gravitate toward. But tonight, there’s something sharper about it, something that feels a little too close. You know he loves you, but watching him in the middle of it all, surrounded by all these girls, it feels like you’re invisible for a moment. Like maybe, just maybe, he’s forgotten how much he means to you. But deep down, you know it’s just him getting caught up in the night, not in them.

You make your way upstairs, needing space, needing to breathe. The noise below feels like a weight pressing down on your chest, suffocating you. Jeno’s room is as much of a mess as the party downstairs, but it’s quieter at least. You go straight to his drawers, pulling out bottles of whatever alcohol you can find, downing shots without caring about the burn in your throat. Then it’s the drugs—whatever pills and powders he’s stashed away. You don’t think, you just take them. Anything to numb the anger, the frustration, the feeling of being trapped and ignored.

You grab your laptop from the desk and plug your phone into the speaker, blasting your own music. The party music below is lame, anyway. With the alcohol and drugs starting to take effect, you focus on your screen, your fingers flying across the keys as you work on your art assignment. You pull up the digital image you’ve been editing for days, your eyes scanning the lines and colours as you tweak the lighting, adjust the shadows—anything to keep your mind off Jeno, off the party, off everything.

An hour passes before Jeno stumbles into the room, high out of his mind. He’s still reeking of sweat and alcohol, his shirt half-untucked, his eyes bloodshot. He glances at your screen, scoffing.

“What are you wasting your time on now?”

You bite your tongue, not wanting to start another fight, but the irritation flares up anyway. You keep your eyes on the screen, editing a tiny detail on the photo, hoping he’ll leave. But he doesn’t. Instead, he walks over and turns off the speaker, his smirk testing you.

“You know nobody listens to this crap,” he says, challenging you with his gaze.

“Why the fuck did you allow me to be bet on?” you snap, unable to hold back any longer. The question is sharp, bitter.

Jeno rolls his eyes and shrugs, as if it’s not worth discussing, as if it doesn’t matter. His casual dismissal makes your blood boil.

“Don’t fucking roll your eyes at me,” you seethe, standing up from the bed. “Don’t give me attitude. You’re the one throwing your lame parties and celebrating what? That your brother beat your lame ass today?”

Jeno shakes his head, irritated. “That’s why I came here now,” he mutters, his words slurring slightly. “To ask you if you wanna come party with us.”

“‘Us’?” you ask, folding your arms. “So that means the guys and the girls you’re fucking around with? The ones you let grind all over you like you don’t have a girlfriend standing right there?”

Jeno’s expression tightens, his jaw clenching as the accusation hits him. His eyes flash with frustration, but for a moment, you catch a flicker of guilt before he quickly masks it. His lips press into a thin line, his nostrils flaring slightly, as if he’s holding back from snapping. He sighs, exasperated. “And me.”

“And the guys,” you repeat, rolling your eyes.

“You know what, Y/N,” he says, his tone shifting to frustration. “I’m getting really tired of this. I came here to spend time with you.” He points at you accusingly, his words biting.

“Yeah, me and half the campus,” you shoot back, referring to the party downstairs.

He throws his hands up in defeat. “Whatever. You wanna be a bitch, that’s cool. Just sit here and listen to your loser rock and I’ll see you tomorrow.”

Your heart pounds in your chest as you glare at him, your voice sharp as a knife. “How about you don’t see me tomorrow?”

Jeno’s face falters for a moment, and he looks at you, something softer trying to break through the haze of alcohol and frustration. “Look… I’m sorry,” he mutters, his voice low. It’s an apology, but it feels half-hearted, like he’s saying it because he knows he should, not because he means it.

You shake your head, ignoring him as you push past. The anger burns too hot, and his apology barely registers. You brush yourself past him, the touch brief but cold, leaving him standing there in the doorway, stunned and alone.

You breathe heavily, trying to calm the anger still simmering in your chest. Each inhale feels shaky, your body betraying just how rattled you are. Jeno’s words, his actions downstairs, the careless way he allowed those girls to hang on to him like you didn’t matter—it all echoes in your mind. You need to escape, to get away from the suffocating weight of it all. With nothing else to do, you make your way downstairs, the pounding bass and shrill laughter filling the space like a cloud of smoke you can’t shake.

You’re halfway to the kitchen when a few of your friends spot you. Their faces light up, oblivious to the storm brewing inside you. They pull you into a conversation, their voices high-pitched and bubbly as they compliment your dress, touching your arm and admiring the way the tight black fabric clings to your curves.

“Oh my god, that dress is insane on you!” one of them gushes, her eyes wide with admiration. “Jeno is so lucky…” 

You smile, the kind of smile you’ve perfected—wide and warm, just enough to convince them you’re engaged. “Thanks,” you reply, your voice light, pretending to match their energy. It’s easy to slip into this act, to fake the excitement, the warmth. You’ve done it before. But inside, everything feels hollow, like there’s a wall between you and the rest of the world.

As they chatter on about the party, about boys, you catch a glimpse of yourself in a nearby mirror. The dress is tight, black, hugging every inch of your body. The neckline plunges just enough to catch attention, the fabric pulling at all the right places. Your makeup is flawless—lips painted a deep, sultry red, eyeshadow smoked out in a way that makes your eyes pop. To everyone else, you look like the life of the party, someone who belongs here. But looking at your own reflection, you feel detached, like you’re watching yourself from outside your body.

You’re about to respond to one of your friends when something catches your eye—someone. Your breath catches in your throat as you notice Mark Lee standing across the room. You freeze. Your friends’ voices fade into the background, the party around you slipping away as your focus zeroes in on him. What the hell is he doing here?

Mark doesn’t belong at parties like this. It’s obvious in the way he stands, surrounded by people yet somehow separate, distant. He’s smiling, his lips curved upward, but there’s a casual awkwardness in the way he holds himself. His shoulders are tense, and he fidgets with his hands as if he’s not entirely comfortable with the attention.

You watch as a few girls, practically draped over him, giggle and bat their eyelashes, clearly trying to catch his eye. Mark’s friends are laughing, slapping him on the back like they’re celebrating something. You can tell his status is rising after his win today, and you can’t help but roll your eyes at how quickly people are flocking to him. It’s almost comical. Yet, unlike Jeno, Mark doesn’t seem to bask in it. He’s not soaking up the attention or feeding off it. Instead, he shifts awkwardly under their gazes, like the weight of it all makes him uneasy.

There’s something… different about him.

You find yourself studying the way his body language contrasts with the energy around him. Where Jeno would be centre stage, loving every second of the spotlight, Mark seems almost out of place, as if he’s trying to navigate a world that doesn’t quite fit him. It’s… endearing. His discomfort, the way he’s clearly not used to being the centre of attention—it draws you in, makes you curious in a way you hadn’t expected.

A small, quiet laugh escapes your lips before you can stop it. You can’t help but find it amusing, how different he is from everyone else in the room. And just as quickly as you let yourself slip into that moment, his eyes meet yours.

For a split second, your heart stutters, and your breath catches. His gaze holds yours, steady and intense. You can’t look away, even though every part of you wants to. It’s as if the rest of the room melts away, the noise, the people, the party—it all blurs into the background. There’s only him.

Mark’s eyes are dark, deeper than you’d expect, and the tension between you feels thick, almost suffocating. His expression is unreadable, but there’s something behind his stare—something that sends a jolt through you. It’s unsettling how deep it cuts, like he’s seeing straight through you, into a place you didn’t want anyone to go.

Your stomach twists, the feeling both terrifying and magnetic. You should look away, but you don’t. You hold his gaze for longer than you should, and the tension between you builds with every second that passes. His stare is steady, unblinking, as if he’s waiting for something, as if he’s testing you. And the longer it goes on, the more you feel like something has shifted—something subtle, something dangerous.

Finally, you tear your eyes away, your heart racing in your chest. You turn, your movements quick and sharp, almost desperate to break the connection. But the weight of his gaze lingers on you, even after you walk away, the tension hanging in the air long after the moment has passed. Something has shifted, and you can feel it deep in your bones.

You don’t know what it is, but you’re certain of one thing: you’re not ready to face it yet.

You storm off, your heart pounding with a mix of frustration and betrayal, the thoughts of Jeno’s reckless behaviour and the bet swirling in your mind. Every step feels heavier, like the weight of everything that’s happened is pressing down on your chest. The muffled noise of the party below fades into the background as you climb the stairs, heading straight for Jeno’s room. The air feels thick, the kind of tension that wraps around you and makes it hard to breathe.

He bet on you.

The thought keeps ringing in your mind, making your stomach churn. It’s a hollow realisation, but one you can’t shake—like every guy in your life somehow views you as a prize, something to win or lose. Your chest tightens with anger, but it’s not just aimed at Jeno. It’s aimed at Mark too. He was part of it. Part of the game, the manipulation. 

You reach Jeno’s room and shove the door open, needing the space, needing to breathe. The familiar smell of his cologne mixed with weed hits you. The room is a mess, clothes and empty bottles scattered everywhere, a chaotic reflection of everything wrong between you and him. You step inside, your hands trembling slightly as you try to make sense of everything swirling in your mind.

But before you can take a breath, you hear footsteps behind you.

Your heart skips, the sudden sound catching you off guard. You whip around, expecting Jeno, but instead, it’s Mark standing in the doorway. His expression unreadable, his hands tucked into his pockets like he doesn’t quite know what to do with himself.

“Hey,” Mark says, his voice soft but carrying through the tension in the room.

You stand in shock, your eyes narrowing in on him. The last person you want to see right now is Mark Lee, of all people. “What do you want? Why are you following me?” Your voice comes out harsher than you intend, but you don’t care. The anger flares up, twisting in your chest. “Why are you even in Jeno’s room? Do you want me to call him?”

Mark’s expression shifts, his lips curling into a half-smirk that makes your blood boil. “Yeah, you won’t do that.” he says, voice calm but biting. “Bit of a weird relationship you guys have, huh? You’re his girlfriend, but he spends the night flirting and touching other girls?”

His words hit harder than you expect, cutting deep. You swallow, trying to hold back the frustration bubbling inside you, but it spills over anyway. “You’re not allowed to talk about my relationship,” you snap, stepping closer, the distance between you narrowing. “How dare you… how dare you tell Jeno that you wanted me if you won the game earlier?”

Mark chuckles, the sound low and dry. “Just when I think Jeno couldn’t be more of a jerk,” he mutters, shaking his head. “I changed my mind, alright? I agreed that if I won, I’d quit the team. Did he bother telling you that, or did he just let you believe the worst?” 

You freeze, stunned. The weight of his words hangs heavy between you. “Why would you… why would you want to quit the team?”

Mark’s expression softens for a moment, the tension easing slightly from his posture. He sighs, rubbing the back of his neck. “Because I’m tired of this,” he says, his voice quieter now, more genuine. “I don’t want to be in Jeno’s world anymore, competing with him over every little thing. Basketball used to be fun for me, but not when it’s all about one-upping him. It’s exhausting.”

You stare at him, processing the weight of what he’s just said. He’s not just tired of the rivalry—he’s tired of everything that comes with it, the constant competition, the games, the need to prove something. It’s so different from the way Jeno sees things.

You truthfully had no idea how intertwined Mark and Jeno’s lives had become recently. It feels strange, realising you’ve been standing on the outside of something so tangled. You’re meant to be Jeno’s girlfriend, yet you’ve never seen this side of his life—not until today when he mentioned Mark while getting ready for their showdown at the river court. That was the first time he had ever really talked about his half-brother with you, and even then, it was brief, distant, like he was giving you only the surface.

And now here you are, standing with Mark, getting a glimpse into the mess that you’ve somehow been pulled into without fully understanding it. It’s like you’ve been involved in their rivalry without even realising it, and yet you can see the toll it’s taken on Mark. The weariness in his voice, the way he talks about Jeno—it’s clear he’s already fed up. He’s exhausted, but from your perspective, you’ve only been witnessing it from the outside, catching pieces of a story you were never let into.

You’re confused, not truly understanding the dynamics between Mark and Jeno or the tension in their family. You’ve met Jeno’s dad before, and it didn’t take long to realise he’s an asshole. Controlling, dismissive, and always pushing Jeno toward something—whether it’s basketball or his own toxic expectations. Now, hearing Mark’s side of things, it makes sense why he wouldn’t want to be associated with their dad or get sucked into Jeno’s world. You’re not surprised Mark is tired of it all.

You notice the sadness lingering in his eyes, the exhaustion etched into his features, and it makes something twist in your chest. It’s clear he’s been carrying the weight of this rivalry far longer than you realised. You don’t fully understand the complexities between them, and a part of you wonders if you ever will.

You change the subject, not wanting to push him further into a conversation that clearly brings up so much for him.

“So… you did bet on me at first,” you murmur, the anger still simmering beneath the surface. “Why?”

Mark steps closer, and suddenly the air in the room feels different, heavier with a tension that has nothing to do with anger. His eyes lock on yours, and for a moment, you feel like he’s seeing right through you. “Because I’ve always noticed you,” he says, his voice lower, more intimate. “The way you laugh when you think no one’s watching. The way you bite your lip when you’re lost in your own thoughts. The way you don’t let anyone in, but you have so much more to give than what people see.”

The words send a jolt through you, leaving you speechless, flushed. You open your mouth to respond, but nothing comes out. The room feels smaller, the tension between you thick and suffocating.

Just as quickly as he’s drawn you in, Mark shifts the conversation, breaking the intensity of the moment. His gaze drifts to the bedside table, where a stack of vinyl records sits. He curled an eyebrow, a small smile playing on his lips. “No way Jeno listens to music this good,” he comments, his fingers brushing over the edge of a record. “Oasis?”

You blink, the sudden change in tone catching you off guard. “He doesn’t,” you mumble, glancing at the records. “They’re mine.”

Mark’s smile widens, genuine and warm. “Didn’t think Jeno had that kind of taste. But you… this makes sense. You’ve got good taste.”

You shake your head slightly, still processing the shift in the conversation. Jeno always made fun of your music, always complained about how outdated and boring it was. But Mark… Mark seems to appreciate it.

He looks around the room again and spots your laptop, the digital art project you’ve been working on still open on the screen. He steps closer, leaning over to get a better look. “This… this is good,” he says, sounding almost impressed. “Really good.”

You brush off the compliment, shrugging. “It’s nothing, just something I mess around with.”

“No,” Mark says firmly, turning to face you, his eyes serious. “You’re talented. You need to take this seriously. Be proud of yourself for once.”

You blink, the unexpected praise catching you off guard. Jeno never really cared about your art. Whenever you’d show him a new project, he’d glance at it, offer a half-hearted “cool,” and move on to whatever was on his mind. But hearing it from Mark—someone who’s not even in your life—feels different. It feels real.

You turn away slightly, suddenly feeling exposed. “It’s not a big deal,” you mumble, trying to dismiss it, but Mark doesn’t let it go.

“It is a big deal,” he insists, his voice soft but firm. “Look, I know I’m a complete nobody to you, and I don’t know everything about you, but I can tell that this… this is something you care about. You’re good, really good, and you shouldn’t brush that off.”

You swallow hard, his words sinking deeper than you expected. There’s something about the way he’s looking at you, like he sees more than what you’re used to showing people. Like he’s seeing the side of you that even Jeno never bothered to notice.

The tension between you shifts again, but this time it’s softer, quieter. You feel yourself calming down, the anger that had burned so hot before now fading into something else—something you can’t quite put your finger on. It feels like Mark is seeing you, really seeing you, and that makes your chest tighten in a way that’s hard to ignore.

“Why are you being so nice to me?” you ask, your voice barely above a whisper. The question slips out before you can stop it, and you feel vulnerable, like you’re revealing more than you want to.

Mark’s gaze softens, and he steps closer, his eyes never leaving yours. “Maybe because someone should be,” he says quietly. “Someone should tell you how good you are. How much you matter. How much you deserve more than what you’re settling for.”

The words hit you hard, and you find yourself struggling to breathe. Mark’s standing so close now, close enough that you can feel the warmth radiating off him, and for a moment, you forget everything else. You forget about the party downstairs, the chaos with Jeno, the bet. All you can focus on is the way Mark is looking at you, the sincerity in his eyes.

You want to say something, anything, but the words are stuck in your throat. There’s a strange electricity in the air between you, like you’re standing on the edge of something dangerous and exciting all at once. Your mind is telling you to stop, to pull back, but your body doesn’t move.

And then, before you can fully process what’s happening, Mark reaches out, his fingers gently brushing against your arm. The touch is soft, tentative, but it sends a jolt through you.

“Mark…” you murmur, unsure of what you’re even trying to say.

But he’s already pulling his hand back, stepping away just enough to give you space, the intensity of the moment easing. He runs a hand through his hair, letting out a small laugh, but it’s not out of amusement—it’s out of the tension that’s still lingering between you both.

“I’m sorry,” he says, his voice low. “I didn’t mean to make things weird. I just… I don’t know, I felt like you needed to hear that.”

You stand there, your heart racing, and for a second, you don’t know how to respond. Everything feels charged, like you’re balancing on a knife’s edge. You know you shouldn’t feel anything like this. He’s Jeno’s brother, after all, and this is already messy enough. But the way Mark looks at you, the way he speaks to you—it feels different. Different from Jeno. Different from anyone.

“I should go,” you finally say, the words shaky and unconvincing.

But before you can make a move, Mark stops you again, his voice soft but commanding. “Wait.”

You turn back, meeting his eyes again, and the tension that had briefly eased floods back, stronger than ever. He looks at you for a long moment, his expression unreadable, but his eyes—his eyes are full of something you can’t quite place.

“Why are you with him?” Mark asks, his voice barely above a whisper.

The question catches you off guard. You open your mouth to respond, but no words come out. Because deep down, you’re not sure you know the answer anymore. The connection you once had with Jeno feels distant, hollow, like it’s slipping through your fingers the more you try to hold on.

Mark takes a step closer, and you feel your breath hitch in your throat. His presence is overwhelming, and for the first time tonight, you feel truly seen. Not as Jeno’s girlfriend, not as someone who’s part of the chaos—but as yourself.

“Because,” you start, your voice shaky. “It’s easier than admitting that maybe we’re not right for each other. It’s easier than dealing with everything that’s falling apart.”

Mark’s eyes soften, and for a moment, he looks like he understands you in a way no one else has. He doesn’t push you for more, doesn’t make you feel guilty for your honesty. He just listens, and that feels like something you’ve been missing for a long time.

There’s a long silence between you, but it’s not uncomfortable. It’s heavy, charged with all the things you’re both not saying, but also filled with a strange sense of calm.

And then, Mark’s voice breaks through the quiet.

“You deserve better than ‘easy,’” he says softly, and his words sink deep into your chest, stirring something you’ve been trying to ignore for too long.

The room feels smaller, the air between you buzzing with something electric. For the first time, you wonder if maybe Mark’s right. Maybe you do deserve better. Maybe ‘easy’ isn’t enough anymore.

And just like that, everything between you shifts again.

───────────────────────────────

The next morning is a blur of regret and a pounding headache, the hangover hitting you harder than usual. You drag yourself out of bed, thoughts of last night swirling in your mind. Mark. You can’t stop thinking about him, the way he spoke to you, the way he looked at you. It’s unsettling how much it affected you, how easily he got under your skin. You’d never noticed him before, never cared to, but now… now it’s different.

He looked right into you, saw things no one else had ever bothered to. That scared you. How could he do that in just one conversation? It’s unsettling how easily he got under your skin. You’d always been in control of how people saw you—polished, popular, the girl everyone wanted to be. But Mark… he saw past all of that. And you hated that. You couldn’t allow it.

As you walk through campus, your usual routine kicks in. The stares, the whispers—they follow you like they always do. You’re well-known, well-liked, and that’s how it’s supposed to be. You slip back into that role easily, the confident girl everyone looks up to, the one they envy or want to be. But today, it feels different, like something’s off. Like you are off. The mask you wear is starting to slip. 

You push open the heavy doors to the stadium, the noise of squeaking sneakers and the thud of basketballs filling the air. The gym is mostly empty except for the cheer squad and the basketball team, both deep into practice for the big away game this weekend. The space is vast, the polished wood floor stretching out in front of you, the high ceilings making the place feel both overwhelming and hollow.

Karina, your best friend, is standing in the middle of the court, already in full drill-sergeant mode. She’s wearing the same cheer outfit as you—tiny, sultry, and sexy. The short skirt clings to her hips, barely covering her thighs, and the tight top shows off just enough skin to turn heads. Her long black hair is tied back into a sleek ponytail, and her dark eyes flash with intensity as she barks orders at the other girls. Karina’s passionate, sometimes too much so, running practices like boot camp. You’ve known her forever, and while she thrives on drama, partying, and popularity, she’s a good person underneath all that chaos. She’s just someone who loves living on the edge and always ends up in trouble.

“You’re late,” Karina snaps when she sees you, her voice sharp. She rolls her eyes dramatically and gestures for you to start warming up. “If you’re not gonna take this seriously, don’t even bother showing up.”

You give her a half-hearted shrug, too hungover and distracted to care. “I overslept,” you mutter, pulling your hair into a ponytail and adjusting the skirt of your cheer uniform. The fabric clings to your skin, the skirt short enough to leave little to the imagination. You stretch, trying to ignore the lingering headache and the thoughts of Mark that refuse to leave your mind.

Karina goes back to yelling at the other girls, demanding perfection in the routine, and you start practising alongside them. The others around you are gossiping, their voices filled with excitement as they gush over the basketball players—how hot they look in their uniforms, who hooked up with who, and which guy is the best in bed. You block them out, going through the motions of the routine as if on autopilot.

But then, you feel it again. That familiar, heavy gaze. You lift your head, and your heart skips when you see him.

Mark.

He’s across the court, dribbling a basketball with effortless ease, but his eyes are on you. He’s wearing the team’s uniform tank top, his last name, ‘Lee,’ boldly printed on the back. The sleeveless jersey hugs his broad shoulders, showing off his muscular arms, the definition of his biceps catching your eye. It fits him well—too well. The fabric clings to his torso, outlining the muscles beneath, and you curse yourself for noticing.

What a fucking liar. Didn’t he say he was quitting the team? So why was he here now, practising like nothing had changed?

Mark dribbles closer, and as he moves past you, you can’t stop yourself from striking up the question that’s been bugging you. “I thought you quit,” you say, your voice sharp with accusation.

He pauses, turning to you, a slight smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. “I did,” he replies smoothly. “But I realised something this morning—this court is where I belong. No one’s gonna stop me from being here. Not Jeno. Not anyone.”

His words are like a challenge, and it makes something in your chest tighten. He stands there, his eyes locked on yours, daring you to say something more. You narrow your gaze, trying to keep the frustration from bubbling over. His presence was throwing you off balance, making you question things you didn’t want to face.

Mark doesn’t seem fazed by your silence. In fact, he starts talking again, asking about cheer practice, making small talk like nothing’s wrong. But you can’t let yourself engage. You give him blunt, clipped responses, barely meeting his gaze. You can’t afford to let him break through your walls again. Not in front of Karina and the other girls.

He huffs, his voice carrying a teasing edge. “Why the hell are you a cheerleader anyway? You’re the least cheery person I know.”

Before you can answer, you notice the other cheerleaders staring, their eyes flicking between you and Mark. Some of them—the same girls who were flirting with him at the party—are watching closely, whispering to each other, their expressions curious. You feel exposed under their gaze, like they can see right through you, like they know something’s happened between you and Mark even though that was far from the reality. 

You force yourself to act indifferent, cold. You put up the walls you’re so good at building, the ones that keep people from seeing the real you. But Mark’s not fooled. He sees through it, and it only makes him more determined. His gaze lingers, and you can feel the weight of it even as you turn away, trying to focus on the routine.

The tension between you is subtle, a quiet current that hums beneath the surface. You don’t know him well enough for it to be anything more, but there’s something about the way Mark watches you—calm, measured, like he’s trying to figure you out. It’s unsettling how easily he manages to chip away at the front you’ve put up, the one you use to keep everyone at a distance. He doesn’t push, doesn’t challenge you outright, but his presence is enough to make you feel exposed in a way you’re not used to.

What bothers you the most is how Mark seems to notice things others don’t, like he’s already picking up on pieces of you that you barely acknowledge yourself. He doesn’t say much, but the way he looks at you—steady, unflinching—feels like he’s seeing past the version of you that everyone else accepts without question. It’s not that he’s right, exactly, but the fact that he might be makes you uneasy.

Mark catches you stealing small glances at him as the practice goes on. You falter in your movements just enough for him to notice, and each time you feel his eyes on you, your skin prickles with awareness. It’s infuriating, really—the way he’s always watching, like he’s waiting for you to crack. And what’s worse, you can’t stop yourself from glancing back.

You refocus, forcing your attention on Karina, who’s still barking orders at the squad, her long black hair swaying with every step. She’s relentless, her intensity dialled up to eleven. “Come on, Y/N,” she snaps, clapping her hands. “You’re half-assing it today. Get your head in the game!”

Karina’s passion for cheer is unmatched. She runs these practices like military drills, pushing everyone to their limits. It’s part of why she’s cheer captain, part of why the girls respect her, but it’s also why they gossip about how extra she is behind her back. But you know that her heart is in the right place. She loves this life. The drama, the popularity, the excitement of being at the centre of it all.

The cheer team lines up for the final drill, a complicated pyramid. As you climb into position, you catch Mark watching again, this time closer than before. He’s dribbling lazily nearby, as if he’s waiting for an excuse to talk to you. Your stomach twists, frustration and something else swirling in your gut. You turn away, focusing on the balance, ignoring him.

But as practice winds down, and you’re stretching by the edge of the court, you feel his shadow fall over you. He’s closer now, leaning against the wall, the basketball spinning lazily in his hand. You can’t ignore him any longer.

“I thought you were serious about quitting,” you mutter, not looking at him, your fingers digging into your muscles as you stretch.

Mark doesn’t answer right away, his silence speaking volumes. When he finally does, his voice is low, laced with that teasing tone he always seems to have around you. “I was. But sometimes plans change.” His eyes are locked on yours, and you hate how steady his gaze is, how it makes you feel like he’s peeling away your defences one layer at a time.

You scoff, rolling your shoulders back as you stand. “You and Jeno are going to kill each other. What’s the point?”

Mark’s eyes flicker, his jaw tightening for a brief second before his usual calm mask returns. “Maybe. Or maybe this is the only way to settle things between us.”

You’re taken aback by the intensity in his voice, but you don’t show it. Instead, you shrug, grabbing your water bottle and taking a long drink. “Whatever. Just don’t drag me into it.”

Mark steps closer, and you freeze, the air between you thick with unspoken tension. “You’re already in it,” he says, his voice dropping to a near whisper. “Whether you want to be or not.”

You blink, trying to process what Mark means. Of course, you’re involved—you’re Jeno’s girlfriend, after all. But there’s something in the way Mark says it, something that feels deeper than just the rivalry between him and his brother. He’s looking at you like he knows something you don’t, like he sees the storm brewing before you even realise it’s there.

You open your mouth to respond, but before you can say anything, the doors to the court open with a loud bang, the sound echoing across the gym.

All eyes instinctively glance toward the entrance as Jeno strides in, exuding the kind of confidence that makes it seem like he owns the place. There’s an effortless swagger in his step, the kind that turns heads, drawing attention without even trying.

He’s late, but he doesn’t look like someone who’s been through a rough night. His hair, though slightly tousled, is styled in that perfect, careless way that still manages to look deliberate. His basketball jersey clings to his broad shoulders, the material showcasing the lean muscles of his arms as it moves with every step he takes. His name ‘Lee,’ is plastered boldly across his back. His skin glows with a faint sheen, his body radiating a kind of heat that makes you—despite everything—take notice.

Coach Suh’s voice booms across the court, cutting through the tension. “Lee Jeno! You’re late! Get your ass over here—this isn’t a damn joke.”

Jeno just shakes his head, a smirk pulling at his lips as he runs a hand through his messy hair. The sound of his laugh echoes through the gym, but it’s empty, lacking its usual charm. Instead of walking toward the rest of the team, he strides toward you and Mark, his gaze flicking between the two of you.

His expression is tight, frustration radiating off him, but it’s not just about being late. The way his eyes fix on Mark makes your stomach clench—this wouldn’t end well.

“So,” Jeno drawls, his voice low and laced with bitterness, “not only do you want my life, my spot on the team, but you also want my girl?”

The words hang heavy in the air, his accusation sharp. Mark doesn’t move, his eyes narrowing as he watches Jeno, his calm exterior refusing to crack.

Your heart pounds in your chest, panic rising as you feel the tension between them ramping up like a ticking time bomb about to explode. You can see it in Jeno’s posture—the way his fists clench, the way he’s getting ready to square up and the way his jaw tightens—he’s not going to let this go easily.

You step in quickly, hoping to defuse the situation before it spirals out of control. “Jeno, let’s just go, yeah?” you say softly, stepping closer to him. You put your arm around his shoulders, pulling him closer to you, hoping your touch will calm him down. “We’ll skip practice and hang out like we used to before. Please, let’s just leave.”

For a moment, Jeno doesn’t move, his gaze still locked on Mark, but then he turns to you, his features softening just slightly. He leans in closer, his lips brushing against your ear as he whispers, “Baby, I’m sorry about yesterday. I shouldn’t have done that.”

You swallow, the tension in the air heavy, but you nod, wanting to end this. “It’s okay,” you whisper back. “Let’s just move on, okay?”

Jeno pulls back, his smirk returning as he glances at Mark one last time before turning fully to you. He speaks loud enough for Mark to hear, completely ignoring his brother’s presence. “I’ll pick you up later, yeah? We haven’t fucked in so long. I’ll make sure you have a better time than last night.”

You freeze, his words making your skin prickle. It’s meant to sound playful, teasing, but there’s an edge to it—something bitter and insecure. You can sense it in the way he’s trying too hard, covering his unease with cocky charm.

But you’re horny, above everything else, you really want cock. His cock.

“Okay,” you smile, leaning up to kiss Jeno softly, the warmth of his lips against yours a temporary distraction. Still, you can’t shake the feeling of Mark’s eyes burning into you from across the court, watching the whole interaction unfold.

───────────────────────────────

The gym was alive with the roaring of the crowd, the heavy pounding of feet against the polished hardwood echoing through the space. It was the big away game, the one everyone had been talking about for weeks. You stood with the rest of the cheer team, pom-poms in hand, cheering and supporting the boys. The energy was electric, the entire stadium buzzing with anticipation. You could feel the excitement coursing through the air, a mix of tension and adrenaline that had everyone on edge.

The crowd was packed, faces blurred together, and their cheers were deafening. The thud of basketballs against the court, the squeak of sneakers, You glanced around, spotting Karina, who was already screaming her head off, hyping up the team and the crowd, her long black hair bouncing with every movement. She was intense, as always. The bright cheer uniforms only added to the energy, and despite the tension in the air, you couldn’t deny how it all came together. You loved being part of the noise, even if you felt disconnected at times.

Your eyes were naturally drawn to the court, where the basketball players were in full motion. Mark was everywhere—sprinting down the court, dribbling the ball, his focus intense. He was confident, fully immersed in the game, his movements fluid and controlled. It was hard not to notice how good he was, how easily he fit into the rhythm of the team despite everything that had happened. He belonged there, and it was becoming more obvious with every passing second. The crowd roared when he made another shot, and you could see the respect from his teammates growing, even from the coach, who’d been unsure about Mark’s return at first.

You’ve crossed paths with Mark more than ever lately. Now that he’s back on the team, it’s like you can’t escape him. Every practice, every game, he’s there. At first, you tried not to think much of it. You were with Jeno, after all. But there’s something about Mark that draws your attention, whether you want to admit it or not. Something in the way he moves on the court, the quiet confidence he carries with him, a calmness that contrasts with Jeno’s intensity.

The tension between them is palpable. Jeno had always been the star of the team, the one everyone looked to. But ever since Mark returned, that’s been changing. Mark was gaining attention—not just from the coach but from the teammates too. He was good. Really good. And every time Mark made a clean shot, a perfect pass, it only seemed to stoke the frustration in Jeno’s eyes.

Jeno was playing tonight, just not in his usual position. And it was clear that something was off. Every time he had the ball, he hesitated, glancing toward Mark before passing to someone else. He was purposefully ignoring his brother, and you could see the frustration building. Mark was calling for the ball, his voice cutting through the chaos. “Come on, man! Pass the ball!” Mark shouted, motioning for the pass.

Jeno ignores him, pushing forward and taking the shot himself. It’s a miss, and the other team grabs the rebound. Mark’s hands clenched into fists at his sides, his eyes locked on Jeno, frustration simmering just beneath the surface.

The tension keeps building, and you feel it, feel it in the way Jeno glares at Mark during the timeout, feel it in the way Mark brushes past him, his shoulders stiff with barely contained anger. It’s only a matter of time before something snaps.

And then it does.

In the final quarter, with the clock winding down, Jeno gets the ball again. He dribbles down the court, and Mark is wide open, calling for it. The crowd yells for Jeno to pass, but he doesn’t. Instead, he goes for a three-pointer, and the ball bounces off the rim. Mark’s face tightens in frustration, and as soon as the play stops, he storms over to Jeno.

“What the hell is wrong with you?” Mark demands, shoving Jeno’s shoulder. “You had to prove something by missing a shot you knew you couldn’t make?”

Jeno’s eyes flash with anger as he pushes Mark back, his jaw clenched tight. “You think I’m gonna let you take my place? You don’t get it, Mark. This was my team before you showed up, and it’ll be my team long after you leave.”

Mark doesn’t back down. He steps closer, his voice calm but cold. “You don’t own this team, Jeno. Stop acting like I’m here to take everything from you.”

Jeno scoffs, his voice rising, the frustration boiling over. “That’s exactly what you’re doing! You want everything I have—my spot on the court, my life, my girl—” He stops short, his eyes darting to you for a split second before he looks back at Mark. “You want what’s mine, and you’re not getting it.”

Mark’s jaw clenches, and before anyone can react, Jeno takes a swing. The punch catches Mark in the chest, but Mark doesn’t fall back. Instead, he lunges forward, shoving Jeno hard enough to send him stumbling back. The crowd gasps as the tension explodes, and the game halts as the two brothers start throwing punches.

It’s chaos. They’re grappling, shoving each other, fists flying as they tumble to the ground. Teammates rush in to pull them apart, but the damage is done. The anger, the resentment—it’s all out in the open now.

“Is that what this is about?” Mark growls, his voice low as he’s dragged back by a teammate. “You’re scared I’ll take everything you think is yours?”

Jeno spits, his eyes burning with rage as he shrugs off the hands holding him back. “You think you’re so much better than me, don’t you? Just because you walked back into my life and everyone suddenly loves you. But you’re nothing, Mark. You’ve always been nothing.”

The words sting, and you can see it in Mark’s eyes. There’s hurt beneath the anger, hurt that Jeno’s words have dug up, but he doesn’t let it show. Instead, he straightens, his chest heaving with effort as he holds Jeno’s gaze. “I never wanted to take anything from you, Jeno,” Mark says quietly, but the weight behind his words hits hard. “I just wanted a chance to be something without having to live in your shadow.”

Jeno doesn’t respond. He just glares, his fists still clenched, and it’s clear that, despite everything, he’s not ready to let go of his anger.

You watch from the sidelines, your heart racing. The fight, the words they’re throwing at each other—it’s like you’re watching years of tension unfold right in front of you. And though you know you should be on Jeno’s side, your heart twists when you see the way Mark looks, the way he’s trying to hold himself together while everything falls apart around him.

Jeno looks at you, expecting you to come to his side, to back him up like you always have. But you can’t. Not this time. Not when you can see the pain in Mark’s eyes, the vulnerability he’s trying so hard to hide. You hesitate, your mind racing with everything that’s happened, torn between the loyalty you owe to Jeno and the empathy you feel for Mark.

Before you can think too much, you find yourself stepping forward, your voice soft but clear. “Jeno… maybe it’s time to let this go.”

Jeno’s eyes snap to you, his expression shifting from anger to disbelief. “What? You’re taking his side now?”

“I’m not taking sides,” you say quietly, but the look in Jeno’s eyes tells you he doesn’t believe that. “I just think this has gone too far. Both of you need to stop before it gets worse.”

Mark stands there, silent but watching you, his gaze steady, like he’s waiting to see what you’ll do next. And for a moment, you catch the flicker of something in his eyes—gratitude, maybe, or understanding. It’s brief, but it’s there.

Jeno lets out a bitter laugh, shaking his head. “Of course. Of course, you’d side with him.”

You swallow hard, feeling the weight of Jeno’s words, but before you can respond, the coach steps in, finally ending the fight and calling off the game.

As the crowd disperses and the players start to leave the court, you find yourself standing in the middle of it all, your heart heavy with everything that’s happened. Jeno storms off without another word, and Mark lingers for a moment, his eyes meeting yours once more before he turns and walks away. Jeno’s jaw was clenched, fists still balled as he stormed off the court. He didn’t look at you, not even once. Not after the fight started and not when he walked away, the tension radiating off him in waves.

You waited outside the locker room, hoping things would cool off, but Jeno was waiting for you. The moment your eyes met his, you knew this wasn’t going to be just another argument. There was something different in his gaze—something deeper, angrier.

“You let him get to you,” you said, your voice tinged with frustration as you stood before him, trying to keep your own emotions in check.

Jeno’s expression darkened, his jaw tightening as he ran a hand through his hair in frustration. “You think this is just about him getting on my nerves?” His voice was sharp, filled with a bitterness that made your stomach twist. “It’s never been that simple. He keeps trying to edge me out. First, he steps onto the court, taking my place there, and now…”

He paused, the weight of his words heavy in the air. When his eyes finally met yours, there was something raw in his gaze, something that made your chest tighten.

“And now it feels like he’s trying to take you too,” Jeno muttered, the accusation hanging between you like a loaded gun.

The shock hit you like a wave, leaving you speechless for a moment. “What? What are you even saying?” you stammered, though the crack in your voice betrayed the strength you were trying to summon. Your heart raced, and your hands trembled slightly at your sides.

Jeno’s frustration boiled over as he stepped closer, the intensity in his eyes almost too much to bear. “I’m not blind, Y/N. I see it. The way things have changed between us… The way you look at him when you think no one’s watching. You’ve been different, distant. You think I haven’t noticed?” His voice was laced with something that felt like betrayal, something that cut deep even before you could fully process what he was accusing you of.

“You’re wrong,” you whispered, but even as the words left your mouth, they felt hollow.

“Am I?” He scoffed, stepping closer until there was barely any space left between you. 

The lump in your throat made it hard to speak, the tears already threatening to spill over. “I’ve been trying, Jeno. I—”

“Trying?” he cut you off, his voice harsh and biting. “This is you trying? Because from where I’m standing, it feels like you’re slipping away from me. You’re slipping away, Y/N, and it’s because of him. Admit it.”

The tears finally broke free, sliding down your cheeks before you could stop them. It was too much—the accusations, the anger, the way he looked at you like he didn’t recognize you anymore. “I can’t do this,” you murmured, shaking your head, your voice barely holding together. “I’m trying, but you—”

Without waiting for his response, you turned and bolted, your feet moving before your mind could catch up. The sounds of the gym—shouts, sneakers squeaking on the polished floor, the dull thud of the basketball—faded behind you as you disappeared into the dimly lit hallways. The air was colder here, the emptiness wrapping around you like a shroud. But it couldn’t stop the sobs from rising in your throat, harsh and relentless, each one cutting deeper than the last.

You couldn’t remember the last time you cried. Not like this. Not the kind of tears that felt like they were tearing you apart from the inside out, like they’d been building for years, waiting for this very moment to break free.

Your chest heaved, your breaths ragged and uneven as you stumbled into a dark corner, sliding down against the cool wall. The hallway was silent, save for the sound of your sobs echoing back at you. You felt so raw, so exposed, like every layer of protection you’d built over the years had been stripped away in an instant. Vulnerability wasn’t something you allowed yourself to feel often—maybe ever—but here you were, unable to stop it.

Tears blurred your vision, and you pressed your hands to your face, trying to muffle the sound of your cries. But it was no use. The emotions had taken hold, refusing to let go. The anger, the hurt, the fear of everything unraveling—it was too much.

For so long, you had kept it all together, every crack patched up with a smile or a dismissive shrug. But this time… this time you couldn’t. You couldn’t stop the flood. And it terrified you because you didn’t know what came next. What was left when all the masks came off, when the facade you’d worked so hard to maintain finally crumbled?

You don’t know how long you’d been sitting there, curled up on the cold bench in one of the quieter hallways, your face buried in your hands as sobs wracked your body. Time felt like it had lost meaning, and you were too exhausted to care.

But when you heard soft footsteps approaching, you didn’t move. You didn’t have the energy. A familiar presence settled next to you. You felt it before you saw him, the warmth of his body close to yours, the quiet concern that radiated from him.

“Y/N,” Mark’s voice was soft, almost tentative. He crouched in front of you, his face level with yours, his eyes filled with concern. “Are you okay?”

The question felt absurd, considering the mess you were in, but something about the way he asked it—so gently, so genuinely—caught you off guard. He wasn’t demanding answers, wasn’t prying. He just wanted to be there.

“I’m fine,” you mumbled, trying to brush him off, but your voice cracked, betraying you. Your hands trembled as you wiped at your eyes, trying to pull yourself together, but it was no use. You couldn’t hold it in anymore.

Mark didn’t push. Instead, he quietly sat beside you, the weight of his presence comforting in its simplicity. He didn’t say anything, didn’t try to fill the silence with empty words. He just stayed there, his quiet strength offering more support than you’d realized you needed.

And then, before you knew it, you were crying again. Harder this time. The tears came in waves, overwhelming and unstoppable, and you felt yourself crumbling under the weight of everything you’d been holding in.

Without a word, Mark wrapped his arms around you, pulling you against his chest in a gesture so simple, yet so needed. He held you close, one hand gently rubbing your back as the other rested on your shoulder. It wasn’t forceful or overwhelming—it was soft, steady, like he was offering you a safe space to break down.

“It’s okay,” he murmured, his voice soothing, steady. “You don’t have to hold it in.”

His words were like a lifeline, and for the first time in what felt like forever, you allowed yourself to let go. To stop pretending, stop fighting. You buried your face in his shoulder, your sobs muffled against his chest as the tears flowed freely.

Mark held you through it all, his presence grounding you, making you feel like maybe, just maybe, you weren’t alone in this. He didn’t say much—just whispered reassurances when the sobs became too much, his hand continuing its slow, comforting motion on your back.

When your sobs finally began to subside, you pulled back slightly, your eyes puffy and red, your breath still shaky. You met his gaze, and for the first time, you didn’t feel the need to hide.

He wasn’t judging you. He wasn’t expecting you to be strong or put together. He just… saw you. The real you. The vulnerable, broken, messy you.

“Thank you,” you whispered, your voice barely audible, thick with emotion.

Mark’s gaze softened, his hand still resting gently on your back. ��You don’t have to thank me,” he said quietly. “You don’t have to go through anything alone. You deserve better”

His words hit you harder than you expected, and for a moment, you didn’t know how to respond. There was something in his voice, something in the way he looked at you, that made you believe him. Made you feel like, for the first time in a long time, someone saw you for who you really were—and didn’t turn away.

You nodded, your throat tight, and Mark gave you a small, understanding smile, his hand lingering for just a moment longer before he pulled back, giving you space to breathe.

───────────────────────────────

The next few weeks passed in a blur of practices, games, and strained silence. You and Jeno had settled into a routine of avoidance—every fight left more scars, and neither of you seemed to know how to bridge the growing gap. Every interaction felt heavy, filled with unspoken words and bubbling frustration that neither of you could release. Even the once-effortless sexual connection between you had started to lose its spark, leaving behind a dull ache in its place.

But the only constant, ironically, was Mark.

But you tried to hide it because Jeno was beginning to suspect something. You denied all accusations. Maybe you were just acting petty, trying to make a point and prove Jeno that he was wrong even though you knew he was right. Or maybe, just maybe, it was because you were scared—scared to open up to Mark, scared to admit that the feelings stirring inside you weren’t as simple as you wanted them to be.

You told yourself it didn’t mean anything—that your stolen glances, the way you lingered a bit longer than you should during practices, was just harmless. But deep down, you knew better. Something was growing between you two, an unspoken pull that had you circling each other in quiet tension.

Today, it all came to a head during practice.

You moved through the stretches with fluid precision, your body bending and arching with every calculated motion. The gym lights flickered overhead, casting a golden hue on your skin as you twisted and turned, giving the cheerleaders around you a preview of the sultry moves you had perfected. Each stretch felt like a deliberate invitation, especially when you bent low, ass pushing out, skirt rising just high enough to leave little to the imagination. The hem of your cheerleading skirt barely brushed the tops of your thighs, teasing the smooth expanse of your skin as you moved.

Your body felt alive, the beat of the music in the background fueling the slow, rhythmic sway of your hips. You could feel the stretch in your thighs, the way the muscles tensed and released as you shifted your weight from one leg to the other, the fabric of your skirt rising dangerously high with each movement. Your arms lifted above your head, drawing attention to the curve of your waist, the way the tight cheer top clung to your chest, accentuating every dip and curve.

You knew eyes were on you. You felt it.

But one set of eyes burned hotter than the rest.

Mark’s gaze was a constant, heavy presence, dragging over every inch of your body as you moved. He wasn’t trying to hide it. No, he wasn’t even subtle. Every time you bent low or did a quick flip of your hair, his eyes were right there, drinking in the sight of your ass, the bare stretch of your thighs. His gaze was intense, following the rise and fall of your body as though he was committing every detail to memory.

Your skirt rose a little higher as you shifted into a new move, a slut drop, your thighs tightening as you lowered your body, giving him an even better view. You felt the air against your skin, the way the heat of the gym mingled with the cool brush of fabric as it rode up higher with each deliberate movement. It made you feel powerful. Sexy. You were showing off, and you knew it.

Mark’s reaction was immediate. His jaw tightened as he watched, his fingers gripping the basketball tighter than necessary, veins bulging along his forearm. The way his eyes roamed over you, dark with want, made a shiver run down your spine. He didn’t blink, didn’t even bother pretending to focus on the practice drills.

Instead, he was laser-focused on you.

You caught his gaze as you straightened up, standing tall with a cocky smirk tugging at your lips. His eyes stayed glued to you, a hungry look darkening his features. You felt a thrill rush through you, knowing you had his full attention, knowing he was checking you out in front of everyone. Your body burned under the weight of his stare, heat pooling low in your belly. It was addictive, the way he looked at you like he wanted to devour you right there in the middle of the gym.

You could feel Jeno’s eyes on you too, burning with barely concealed jealousy as he watched the unspoken tension pass between you and Mark. But you didn’t stop. You didn’t care. The power you felt from knowing Mark couldn’t keep his eyes off you only fueled you more. The harder Jeno stared, the deeper you sank into your movements, stretching further, leaning into the seductive rhythm of the routine.

And then it happened—Mark, distracted, let the basketball slip from his grip. The sound of it bouncing toward you pulled you from your trance just in time to see it come flying in your direction. You barely had time to react, the ball missing you by mere inches, the whoosh of air sending your hair flying.

The entire gym fell silent.

All eyes were on you now, the attention turning from curious whispers to outright gawking. The cheerleaders stopped mid-practice, their gazes shifting from you to Mark, wondering what the hell was going on. The basketball team paused, a few muttered chuckles floating through the air as the ball rolled to a stop at your feet.

Mark was still staring, his eyes now filled with something darker, more heated than before. The moment felt charged, the tension between you two palpable, hanging thick in the air. You could feel the weight of everyone’s gaze, their confusion, their curiosity. But none of that mattered. All you could think about was the way Mark was looking at you—like he was undressing you with his eyes, like he couldn’t get enough.

You huffed, breaking the silence with a sarcastic snort. “Nice arms,” you quipped, crossing your arms over your chest as you tried to shake off the tension.

Mark didn’t smile, didn’t laugh. Instead, he leaned closer, his voice dropping low enough that only you could hear it, his gaze burning into yours with a quiet intensity. “Nice ass,” he murmured, his voice dripping with something dangerous, something that sent a pulse of heat straight to your core.

Your heart skipped a beat at his words, the air between you two thickening with a different kind of tension. You could feel the flush rising in your cheeks, the way your body responded to the boldness of his statement, to the low rasp of his voice. Your throat tightened, and for a split second, you forgot where you were, forgot that the entire gym was watching, that Jeno’s eyes were on you, burning with fury.

You opened your mouth to say something, but no words came out. Instead, you stood there, locked in Mark’s gaze, the heat between you almost suffocating. It was subtle, so subtle that no one else in the gym could pick up on the charged moment passing between you two. But you felt it. You knew it. And from the way Mark’s eyes stayed on yours, dark and hungry, you knew he felt it too.

The whispers around you grew louder, and you could feel the cheerleaders and basketball players glancing at each other, sensing the tension but not quite understanding it. But the look on Jeno’s face said it all. His jaw was clenched, his eyes narrowed with a mix of anger and suspicion as he watched the two of you, his body tense with barely concealed rage.

You could feel the weight of Jeno’s stare as he marched toward you, his presence heavy and commanding. “Let’s go,” he snapped, grabbing your arm, his grip firm as he pulled you toward him, his frustration barely hidden beneath the surface. He didn’t even glance at Mark, but you could feel the seething anger radiating off him in waves.

Mark’s eyes didn’t waver. He watched as Jeno led you away, his gaze steady, like he was daring you to say something, to do something. But you didn’t. You couldn’t. The air between you and Mark was thick with tension, the kind that lingered even as you walked away, Jeno’s grip tightening on your arm as if to remind you of where you were supposed to be.

──────────────────────────────

It’s late, and your apartment smells faintly of the popcorn Karina had insisted on making. Your legs are lazily draped across her lap as she scrolls through her phone. A few of the other girls are scattered around the room—Winter, Ryujin, and Ningning—chatting animatedly, their voices buzzing like static. You’re not particularly invested in the conversation, but you’re here anyway. You couldn’t avoid it. It’s part of the routine.

The girls gossip about the usual—boys, parties, and who’s been hooking up with whom. But tonight, there’s a different energy in the room. They all have questions about what had happened earlier, and you can feel their curious stares burning into you.

“What was that about?” Winter is the first to ask, raising an eyebrow in your direction.

You shrug, feigning nonchalance. You know exactly what she’s referring to, but you don’t really know how to answer. To you, it was nothing. Of course, Mark would make a comment like that. You looked hot today, and he’d noticed. That was it. Nothing more, nothing less.

Winter presses on, unwilling to let it go. “You can’t tell me it was nothing, especially after seeing how Jeno dragged you out? I wonder what happened after that.”

You glance at her and sigh, deciding to give her the raw, unfiltered truth. “Nothing,” you start, watching their eyes light up in anticipation. “At first, Jeno was mad, pissed even. But then I sucked his cock, and he fucked me against one of the lockers in the guys’ changing rooms.” You pause for effect, wiggling your eyebrows as you finish, “He’s definitely forgiven me.”

The girls burst into giggles, some of them clapping like you’ve just given them a piece of juicy gossip they’d been dying to hear. They choose to ignore the toxicity of it all, the fact that you and Jeno had been using sex as a band-aid for your issues for weeks now. You and Jeno barely talked anymore. Every argument, every moment of tension, was resolved with a quick fuck rather than any real conversation. But you don’t say that part. You leave that truth buried beneath the surface.

“So… Y/N, would it annoy you if I made a move on Mark?” Karina’s voice cuts through the laughter, sharp and filled with a hint of vindication as she looks at you from the corner of her eye.

You can’t help the way your face tightens, annoyance flashing across your expression before you can force it back down. You plaster on a smile, lying through gritted teeth. “No, why would it?”

Karina leans back, raising a perfectly arched brow as if she doesn’t believe you for a second. “Just seems like there’s something going on between you and Mark. He’s been staring at you non-stop lately.”

“Just seems like you and Mark have nothing in common,” you bite back, the words spilling out before you can stop them. “I don’t know why you’re suddenly interested in him now. Is it because he’s gotten more popular?”

Karina doesn’t flinch at your retort. Instead, she gives you a slow, deliberate smile. “Maybe,” she says, her voice cool, like she’s playing a game she knows she’ll win. “Or maybe it’s because I think he’s cute. And honestly? I’d love to take his virginity.”

Your chest tightens, a wave of something uncomfortable rippling through you. You weren’t expecting that. “Take his virginity?” you repeat, trying to keep your voice steady, but you can’t hide the slight edge in your tone.

Karina doesn’t miss it. She leans in, her eyes gleaming with mischief. “Yeah. I’ve been thinking about it a lot lately. You know, how fun it’d be to corrupt him. Break him in a little. He’s so… quiet. I bet he’s just waiting for someone to show him how it’s done.” Her voice dips lower, more seductive. “Imagine his hands on you, not knowing what to do at first, but learning… fast.”

The other girls are eating it up, hanging onto every word Karina says. They laugh and nod along, and Winter even adds a low whistle.

“Girls…” Winter chimes in, her tone playful. “I don’t think he’s a virgin. It’s always the quiet ones with the big cocks who know exactly what they’re doing.” She sighs dramatically, leaning back into the couch, adding a moan for effect. “I bet he knows how to use it too.”

You roll your eyes. “No, he’s definitely a virgin. I can tell.”

The room fills with chatter as the girls go back and forth, arguing over whether Mark is as inexperienced as you claim or secretly a sex god in disguise. The conversation takes on a life of its own, filled with explicit fantasies and wild speculation.

“Honestly, there’s a rumor going around that he’s fucking Giselle,” Ryujin adds, her tone more serious, like she’s spilling some kind of secret.

“Giselle?” Ningning scoffs. “Please. She’ll fuck anyone with a cock.”

“Maybe that’s why he’s been so chill lately,” Winter says, laughing. “He’s getting laid!”

The conversation feels like it’s spiraling, the air heavy with innuendo and teasing, and you can’t help but feel a flicker of irritation beneath the surface. You’re trying to laugh along with them, trying to ignore the way your stomach twists at the thought of Mark with someone else.

But the truth is, you don’t really know what to feel. You’ve been keeping your distance from Mark, trying to navigate your mess of a relationship with Jeno, but there’s something undeniable growing between you and Mark. Something you can’t quite put your finger on.

Karina leans in closer, her voice low. “Come on, Y/N,” she says, her eyes gleaming with curiosity. “You can’t tell me you’ve never thought about it. About what it’d be like with him.”

You glance around the room, the girls all watching you expectantly, and for a moment, you feel cornered. The weight of their expectations pressing down on you.

You shrug, trying to play it off. “Like I said, he’s probably a virgin. Nothing to think about.”

“Virgin or not,” she says, her lips curling into a smirk, “he’s still hot. And honestly, I think the quiet ones are always the best in bed. All that pent-up energy…” She trails off, her voice laced with suggestion as she winks at Winter, who giggles.

You roll your eyes, trying to ignore the sudden heat rising in your chest. The last thing you want is to picture Mark like that—especially not with Karina talking about him like he’s some kind of conquest. But the image creeps in, unbidden, and you quickly push it away.

“Anyways, I heard Jeno’s gonna invite him to his party this weekend,” Karina continues, her voice light and casual, but you can hear the underlying excitement. “I think I’ll make my move then.”

You groan, slapping your hand against your forehead. “Why is he inviting him?” you mutter under your breath. This wouldn’t end well—you could already see it.

Karina shrugs, her smirk widening as she leans back against the couch. “Shouldn’t you know? Aren’t you his girlfriend?” There’s a teasing edge to her voice, and it grates on your nerves, making your blood simmer just beneath the surface.

You clench your jaw, shaking your head as you try to ignore her, but the annoyance is creeping in, settling deep in your bones. You don’t want to think about Jeno, about Mark, about whatever mess you were tangled up in between them. And you definitely don’t want to think about Karina making a move on Mark at Jeno’s party.

“Yeah, well,” you mutter, standing up from the couch, “I’ve got bigger things to worry about than your little plan.” You cross the room and grab your phone from the coffee table, feeling the girls’ eyes on you the entire time.

Winter giggles softly behind you, her voice sing-song as she chimes in, “Come on, Y/N. We’re just messing with you. No need to get all worked up.”

You turn, giving them a forced smile, but the tension in your body refuses to dissipate. “I’m not worked up. Just… tired.”

Karina’s eyes linger on you for a moment longer, her smirk still in place. ��Sure,” she says slowly, like she knows more than she’s letting on. “Tired. Right.”

You let out a small sigh, knowing there’s no point in arguing with her. She thrives on this—the drama, the teasing, the tension. She always has. But right now, all you want is some space to clear your head.

You head toward the door, your phone clutched tightly in your hand. “I’ll catch you guys later,” you call over your shoulder, already halfway out the door.

──────────────────────────────

The music thumped through the walls of the house as you stood at the front door, adjusting your mini black skirt that barely covered anything. It was tight, short, and see-through, leaving little to the imagination. The lace thong you wore underneath was clearly visible if someone looked hard enough, and you had no doubt that people would be looking tonight. Paired with heels, your favorite jewelry, and a form-fitting top that highlighted every curve, you were dressed to kill.

Jeno opened the door, his expression softening into a smile as he took you in. His eyes roamed over your body, lingering on the skirt, and you felt the heat already building between you two. He pulled you in for a kiss, his lips warm against yours as his hand slid down to rest on the small of your back, his fingers brushing against the exposed skin. The promise of what would happen later was clear in his touch.

“Hey, baby,” he murmured against your lips before pulling away to greet Karina and Winter behind you with a hug and a quick nod.

His eyes were back on you immediately, dark and filled with lust as they traced the lines of your daring outfit. You smiled giddily at him, excited for the night ahead. You already knew how the night would end—tangled in sheets with his body on top of yours, all heat and passion. It was the one thing you both were still good at, even when everything else seemed to be falling apart.

The party was already in full swing, the bass vibrating through the floors as the scent of alcohol and smoke filled the air. The lights were low, casting the room in a warm, golden glow, with people sprawled across the couches and dancing in the center of the living room. Laughter, music, and the clinking of glasses created a chaotic but comfortable atmosphere. You could feel the buzz of energy around you as you stepped further into the house, bodies pressed together as the night unfolded. You were already excited for the night, already anticipating the way things would go later with Jeno. The fire in his eyes told you everything you needed to know—tonight would be intense.

But then you noticed Mark.

He was across the room, dressed casually in jeans and a simple white t-shirt, but somehow he stood out more than anyone else. His presence seemed to fill the space around him, and your eyes found his before you even realized it. He wasn’t hiding the way he was looking at you either. His gaze trailed over your body, lingering on your legs, your hips, the tight skirt that hugged your every curve. There was something deliberate in the way he looked at you, and it made your heart skip a beat.

You huffed, quickly looking away, trying to ignore the way your pulse quickened. What were you doing? You were here with Jeno, after all. But when you turned back, you saw Jeno walking toward Mark, and your heart sank. You were ready for things to blow up, expecting another confrontation, but to your surprise, Jeno greeted him with a nod and an indifferent expression. At least they weren’t killing each other.

Just as you were about to relax, you saw that Mark wasn’t alone. A girl stood beside him—someone you didn’t recognize. She was quiet, her eyes wide as she glanced nervously around the room, like she wasn’t used to this kind of environment. There was something shy about her, something that made you uneasy for reasons you couldn’t explain.

Jeno greeted her too, his smile a bit too bright as he introduced himself. “I’m Jeno, nice to meet you.”

The girl smiled shyly and introduced herself, but there was something else—a quick, knowing look exchanged between her and Jeno. It was subtle, but you caught it, and it sent a strange jolt of unease through you. What was that about?

Shaking your head, you turned toward the kitchen, needing a drink to calm your nerves. You grabbed a bottle of vodka, pouring yourself a shot and knocking it back quickly. Then another. You didn’t stop until the burn settled into your veins, dulling the edge of whatever was eating away at you.

Just as you set the bottle down, you felt the air shift—the unmistakable presence of Mark sliding in beside you, close enough that the warmth of his body brushed against yours. His voice cut through the noise, low and teasing, carrying that familiar edge that always seemed to pull your attention. 

“Taking it a bit far tonight, aren’t we?” You turned your head slightly, catching the smirk playing at the corner of his lips. His eyes, dark and sharp, flickered between the empty shot glasses and then back to your face.

You rolled your eyes, feeling a familiar mix of irritation and something else—something that made your heart beat a little faster. “What do you care?” you shot back, but there was no bite in your voice. The warmth from the alcohol was already settling into your veins, and maybe that was why you felt more relaxed around him. Or maybe it was just him.

Mark leaned in closer, his arm brushing against yours as he rested his hand on the counter beside you. His scent—clean, warm, with a hint of something that made you want to lean in—filled the small space between you. “Just looking out for you,” he said, his voice casual, but the glint in his eyes told you there was more to it, lingering for a beat longer than necessary before returning to your eyes. It was subtle, but enough to send a small shiver down your spine. You swallowed, trying to ignore the flutter in your chest as you glanced back at him, raising an eyebrow.

“Looking out for me?” you echoed, your voice carrying a hint of sarcasm, masking the way his presence was making you feel things you weren’t ready to admit. “Is that what we’re calling it now?”

“Why don’t you look out for your date?” you shot back, your voice betraying more jealousy than you intended.

Mark chuckled, the sound low and smooth, his attention fully on you. “She’s not my date,” he said, his voice casual but his eyes locked on yours.

You swallowed hard, caught off guard by how disarming he could be. “Who is she, anyway?” you asked, trying to sound indifferent, though the question lodged itself in your throat.

Mark glanced over his shoulder, nodding toward the girl he’d walked in with. “My best friend.”

You blinked, surprised by how easily he said it. You had assumed… well, something else entirely. “Oh,” you murmured, unsure how to respond.

Mark grinned, clearly enjoying your reaction. “What? Did you think I’d bring a date to a party knowing you’d be here?”

You felt the heat creeping up your neck, but you quickly masked it with a small smile. “I didn’t think about it that much.”

“Sure you didn’t,” Mark said, his voice dipping lower as his gaze flicked down to your lips, then back up to your eyes, sending a shiver through you.

The air between you felt charged, every unspoken word and lingering glance thick with an intensity neither of you was willing to name. The tension simmered quietly beneath the surface, weaving itself into the playful banter, the stolen glances. You both danced around it, staying in this delicate balance, where each smile, each teasing remark was a way to keep things light—yet everything about the moment felt intimate, personal. Neither of you dared to break the fragile line between what was said and what was truly felt.

But before you could say anything else, you felt a hand on your waist—Jeno.

You gasped softly, your mouth widening in surprise as you realized he had been watching you and Mark the whole time. His eyes were calm, surprisingly calm, but there was something underneath it—something you couldn’t quite place. You smiled brightly at Jeno, hoping to diffuse whatever tension was building. “Hey, baby. Do you want to dance?” you asked, your voice laced with forced cheer.

He shook his head, his expression soft yet serious. “Y/N, can we talk?”

You blinked, caught off guard by how gentle he was being. Jeno wasn’t usually like this—calm, collected. This was new. Maybe this was it, the turning point you’d been waiting for. 

“Yeah, sure,” you said, following him as he led you upstairs to his room. Your heart pounded in your chest as Mark watched you go, his gaze heavy, but you didn’t turn back. You couldn’t.

Once inside Jeno’s room, you wasted no time, slipping your top over your head, your mind already racing toward what usually came next. You turned to him, expecting to see him ready to go, but instead, he sat at the edge of the bed, head lowered, fingers gripping his knees. His expression wasn’t what you were used to—stormy, tense. He wasn’t undressing. He wasn’t even looking at you.

Confused, you moved closer, kneeling in front of him. Your hands reached for his belt instinctively, trying to pull him out of his mood the way you always did. “Jeno, come on,” you murmured softly. “Let me suck you off. I’ll make you forget whatever’s on your mind.”

But instead of the usual eager response, his hand gently covered yours, stopping you. He shook his head, his voice quieter than you’d ever heard it. “Y/N, not tonight.”

You paused, your hands frozen mid-movement. “Jeno?”

He looked up at you, his eyes filled with something you couldn’t quite decipher. “Sit down, Y/N.” His voice was soft, but firm as he gently pushed your hands away, motioning for you to sit beside him. “We need to talk.”

Jeno ran his hand through his hair again, the tension in his posture evident. His gaze softened as he looked at you, the weight of his words settling between you both. “We need to stop, Y/N. Stop pretending we’re a compatible couple.”

You froze, your breath catching in your throat. “What are you talking about?” you whispered, though deep down, you knew exactly what he meant.

Jeno sighed, his voice thick with emotion. “You know it’s not working anymore. You feel it just as much as I do.” His eyes met yours, and for the first time in a long time, you saw the depth of his sadness. “We’ve been together for so long, but it’s not enough. It hasn’t been for a while.”

Tears immediately welled in your eyes as you shook your head, refusing to accept it. “But we’ve been together forever. We’re supposed to be together, Jeno. What do you mean it’s not enough?”

Jeno’s expression was full of regret, but his resolve didn’t waver. “I know it feels that way, but think about it. How many days have we really been happy lately? It’s just fights, making up through sex, and pretending everything’s fine. But it’s not. We both know that.”

You swallowed hard, trying to keep the tears at bay. You didn’t want to admit he was right. “I don’t want to lose you,” you whispered, your voice barely audible. “I can’t. I don’t know how to… I don’t know how to be without you.”

Jeno leaned forward, taking your hand in his, his thumb brushing over your knuckles. “You’re not going to lose me,” he said softly. “You still have me, okay? I still love you, and I always will. But we both deserve more than this. We deserve to be with someone who makes us happy, not just someone we’ve been with because it’s comfortable.”

The tears you’d been holding back finally spilled over, and you let out a shaky breath, your chest tightening. You hated how much his words resonated with you. You hated that he was right. But what scared you more was facing the truth, admitting that your relationship with Jeno was broken, that it had been for a while.

“I can’t do this,” you choked out, your voice thick with emotion. “I’d rather just… I’d rather keep pretending. I can’t face the truth, Jeno. I don’t know how.”

His eyes softened even more, filled with understanding. “You don’t have to pretend anymore. You don’t have to lie to yourself, Y/N. It’s okay to admit that things are messed up. It’s okay to be scared.”

But that was the problem. You weren’t good at facing the truth, at being vulnerable. Emotional intimacy terrified you, and you’d spent so long hiding behind the idea that everything was fine, that you could just patch things up with sex and avoid the hard conversations. Being honest, being real—that was something you’d never been good at. You’d rather live in the illusion than face the mess underneath.

Jeno seemed to sense your hesitation, your fear. He gently pulled you closer, wrapping his arms around you as the sobs finally wracked your body. “I’m here,” he whispered, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead. “I’m not leaving you. You’ll always have me, but this… this relationship, it’s not good for either of us. And it hasn’t been for a long time.”

You clung to him, your fingers gripping his shirt as if he was the only thing keeping you afloat. The thought of not being with him terrified you more than you could admit. “I don’t want to be alone,” you whispered, the words broken between sobs. “I don’t know how to do this.”

“You’re not alone,” he murmured into your hair. “I’ll always be here for you. But we can’t keep doing this, pretending we’re happy when we’re not. It’s not fair to either of us.”

His words were like a dagger to your heart, twisting painfully because deep down, you knew he was right. But the truth was too heavy, too overwhelming. You’d spent so long avoiding it, pretending that everything was okay, that hearing it now felt like your world was crumbling.

“I still love you,” Jeno said, his voice steady despite the emotion in it. “I love you, but we need to stop hurting each other like this.”

You pulled back slightly, your tear-filled eyes meeting his. The sincerity in his gaze made it hurt even more. “But what do I do without you?” you whispered, your voice trembling. “I don’t know who I am without you, Jeno.”

He reached up, gently wiping the tears from your cheeks. “You’ll figure it out. And I’ll still be here, even if we’re not together like we used to be. You’re stronger than you think.”

You shook your head, tears streaming down your face as you leaned back into him, unable to fully let go. You didn’t want this. You didn’t want to admit that everything was falling apart. But Jeno was right—you were holding on to something that had died a long time ago, and the thought of letting go felt like losing a part of yourself.

For a long time, he just held you as you cried, his arms the only comfort you had left. But eventually, even that had to end. Jeno stood up, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead before stepping back.

“I’m gonna go,” he said quietly, his voice thick with emotion. “Take some time for yourself. You’ll be okay, Y/N.”

You didn’t say anything, your throat too tight with the weight of everything. You just nodded, tears still falling as you watched him leave the room, his presence fading with each step. And as the door closed behind him, you felt the crushing weight of reality settle in, the silence echoing in your chest where your heart had been breaking all along.

You were alone. And for the first time, you couldn’t hide from the truth anymore.

Later that night, Mark finds you huddled on the ground, your knees pulled up to your chest, arms wrapped tightly around yourself, trying to hold it all in, but you’re failing. Your body shakes with sobs that you can’t control, and when you hear footsteps approaching, you tense up.

“Mark, now is not the time, please go away.” Your voice cracks as you cry out, lips trembling. You cover your face with your hands, not wanting him to see you like this, broken and vulnerable.

But Mark doesn’t leave. He doesn’t even hesitate. He gets closer, kneeling down beside you. The quiet rustle of fabric is the only sound, and you shiver as he drapes his jacket around your shoulders. It’s warm, and it smells like him—fresh and clean, grounding you in a way you didn’t expect.

“Jeno told me to come,” he explains softly, his voice barely above a whisper.

You look up, confusion flooding your tear-streaked face. “What?” The question falls out, barely coherent, as you swipe at your face, painfully aware of how horrible you must look—mascara smudged, makeup streaked, and eyes puffy.

Mark doesn’t answer with words. Instead, he moves even closer, and before you know it, he’s pulling you into him, gently guiding you onto his lap. You don’t resist. His arms wrap around you, and you straddle him, your body sinking into his warmth as if it’s the only safe place you can find.

The sobs come harder now, uncontrollable, and you bury your face in his shoulder, clutching onto him like a lifeline. He holds you tight, one hand smoothing down your back, the other resting against your hair, cradling you like something fragile. His soft whispers, the way he gently hushes you, the quiet “it’s okay, I’m here,” all create this bubble around the two of you, making the world fade away for a moment.

Mark’s presence doesn’t fix anything, but it makes you feel less alone. There’s no judgment in his touch, no expectation. He lets you cry, lets you fall apart in his arms, and that’s what breaks you even more. You’ve been holding it in for so long, pretending everything was fine, pretending you were fine.

You don’t know how long you’ve been like this, pressed close to him, when he whispers, his breath warm against your ear. “What happened?”

You suck in a breath, pulling back just slightly, though your forehead still rests against his. Your voice is small, fragile. “He broke up with me.”

Mark’s expression softens, his lips parting as he lets out a quiet “Oh.” There’s no surprise in his voice, only understanding, only compassion. He doesn’t try to fill the silence with meaningless words. Instead, his hand finds its way into your hair, gently smoothing it down, his touch so careful, as if he’s afraid to hurt you more than you already are.

He doesn’t ask for details, doesn’t push you to talk more. He just holds you, his chest rising and falling steadily beneath you, offering you a calm in the midst of your storm. His fingers stroke through your hair, and his other arm is firm around your waist, keeping you anchored to him as you cry quietly into his neck.

And somehow, in the quiet of his embrace, with his soft breaths brushing against your skin, the weight of everything doesn’t feel quite as suffocating. The pain is still there, sharp and unrelenting, but Mark’s presence makes it bearable. He makes you feel seen, heard, like it’s okay to not have it all together.

For the first time in what feels like forever, you let yourself feel. You let yourself break. And Mark is there to catch every piece of you, holding you together when you can’t do it yourself.

The silence between you feels intimate, not awkward. It’s comforting, the kind of silence that says more than words ever could. His arms stay wrapped around you, and for now, that’s all you need. You just let him hold you.

“Mark,” you whisper, your voice shaky, barely audible as you shift closer to him. Your thighs press against his, caging him in. You bite your bottom lip, feeling the tension crackle between you, and notice his subtle groan as his hips press up slightly.

“Yeah?” he responds casually, though his voice is rougher, his restraint evident.

“You’re hard,” you mumble, your tone matching his, casual, as though stating a simple fact. The firmness presses against you, unyielding, hot even through the layers of fabric between you. The heat of him radiates into your skin, the outline unmistakable as it pushes against your thigh. Your words hang in the air, blending with the warmth that rises between you, making the closeness more intimate than it should be, despite the simplicity of the moment. The feeling is undeniable, solid and real, as though the space between you is shrinking with every breath.

Mark shifts slightly under you, groaning low in his throat. He doesn’t try to deny it. “Yeah, I am,” he says, his voice deeper now, gravelly. He lets out a slow breath before adding, “It’s because you’re—”

But before he can finish, you crash your lips against his, silencing him with a kiss so intense it feels like you’ve both been waiting for this moment forever. Already straddling his lap, you press yourself closer, your thighs locking around him tighter, your body molding against his. Your fingers curl into his hair, pulling him into you as if you’re afraid to let go.

Mark responds instantly, his mouth moving against yours with a passion that catches you off guard. His hands slide down to your thighs, fingers digging into the soft flesh as he pulls you even closer. The kiss is messy, intense—tongues tangling, soft moans escaping between your lips as the heat between you grows unbearable.

Your hips move of their own accord, grinding down on him, and you feel the hardness pressing against your core, making your breath hitch. His hands roam up your thighs, sliding under your skirt, pushing the flimsy fabric up higher until it’s barely covering you. He grabs your ass, squeezing hard as you rock your hips, the friction between you igniting every nerve in your body.

You moan softly into his mouth, the heat between you both growing unbearable. When Mark’s hand moves down to smack your ass, the sound is sharp and commanding, making your body jolt in response. “Mark,” you gasp, the name slipping out in a breathless moan. His name was a broken plea on your lips as his hands continue to roam, guiding your movements as you grind harder against him, feeling the friction build between your bodies.

His hands are everywhere—palming your ass, guiding your movements, pressing you harder against him as you grind down. The heat, the friction, the way he kisses you with an intensity and desperation—it all sends your mind spinning. You feel his desire in every touch, every grip on your skin, and you want more.

You arch your back, pressing your chest against his, the kiss growing even more desperate, your tongues tangling, breaths mingling as soft moans escape between your lips. His hands pull you closer, as if he can’t get enough of you, the tension building with every second, every movement.

Mark stands, lifting you effortlessly, his strong hands gripping your thighs as your legs instinctively wrap around his waist. You can feel the heat of his body through his clothes, every hard muscle pressing against you. Before you even register what’s happening, he tosses you onto the bed, Jeno’s bed—and the realization of where you are only adds to the illicit thrill running through you. 

You watch him through half-lidded eyes as he pulls his shirt over his head, revealing the chiseled muscles beneath. His chest is broad, his arms flexing with every movement, each line of his body carved like stone. Your gaze traces over the defined ridges of his abs, the muscles contracting with every deep breath he takes, and your heart races, pulse pounding in your ears.

Then your eyes drop lower, and you can’t help but stare at the bulge straining against his jeans. The thick, undeniable outline is impossible to ignore, and the sight makes your breath hitch, a sharp gasp escaping your lips as your anticipation skyrockets. The raw need between your legs intensifies, and you press your thighs together instinctively, biting your lip as you imagine what’s coming next.

Mark moves closer, his hands reaching down to undo his belt, the metal clinking as he loosens it. But just as his fingers graze the zipper, you catch the flicker of doubt in his eyes. It’s subtle, just a brief hesitation, but it’s enough to shift the atmosphere. The dangerous, primal intensity in his gaze softens, and for a moment, he looks at you—not with the hunger you’ve seen, but with something deeper, more conflicted.

You don’t say anything, but you feel the weight of the moment hanging between you. His hand pauses at his waistband, and he swallows hard, his jaw clenching. The air thickens with the tension of everything unspoken, and for the first time, you both hesitate, the thrill of the moment colliding with the reality of where you are—of who you are.

Mark leans over you, his hand brushing against your cheek, the gentleness of his touch a stark contrast to the heat that had been building just moments before. His thumb runs over your lower lip, lingering there as if he’s warring with himself, battling between desire and restraint.

“We can’t,” he murmurs, his voice low, almost regretful.

You blink, still lost in the heat of the moment, your body screaming for more even as his words register in your mind. “What do you mean?” you ask, your voice breathless. You reach for him again, your fingers already working on the button of his jeans. “Come on, Mark… we don’t need to stop. I’m on the pill so you can cum inside of me, I don’t mind.”

His groan is deep, almost pained, as he steps back. One hand drags down his face, his frustration clear as he shakes his head. “It’s not that,” he mutters, his gaze conflicted. “You just broke up with Jeno—he’s my brother. And we’re in his room. You really want this to happen here? You want me to fuck you on his bed?”

Your response is immediate, unwavering. “Yes.”

He stares at you, huffing out a breath of disbelief. “Y/N…” he starts, voice softer now, laced with something between guilt and restraint. “No. This isn’t how it’s supposed to happen. Not like this.”

For a moment, everything pauses. The weight of his words crashes over you, bringing with it a wave of reality you’ve been avoiding. The intensity of what almost happened—the way you nearly crossed a line that, once crossed, couldn’t be undone. Embarrassment starts to creep in, settling in your chest like a heavy stone.

You sit up, hurriedly pulling your clothes back on, avoiding his eyes as the thrill of the moment fades, replaced by a deep ache you didn’t expect. The tension between you feels different now—charged, yes, but laced with something more painful. Something you can’t quite name.

Mark doesn’t say anything as he watches you, his chest still rising and falling heavily, the conflict clear in his eyes. You know he wants you, you felt it, but there’s a line he won’t cross. Not like this. And you hate that it makes sense. You hate that he’s right.

As you stand, buttoning your skirt, you bite your lip, fighting the urge to cry. You weren’t ready for all of this to stop so abruptly. You didn’t want to face the truth of the situation or the complicated mess your feelings had become. And more than anything, you didn’t want to be alone tonight.

“Do you want to come to mine?” you ask, the words shaky, but you force them out. There’s a part of you that fears he’ll refuse, that this will be the moment everything falls apart completely. But you can’t help but hope he’ll still want you, even if not here. Not like this.

For a long moment, he doesn’t answer. His expression is unreadable, his eyes searching yours for something you’re not sure you can give. The silence stretches, your heart pounding in your chest, the fear of rejection threatening to overwhelm you.

Then, finally, he nods, a small, almost shy smile tugging at the corner of his lips. His hand reaches out, offering to help you up, and for the first time since this whole mess started, there’s a flicker of tenderness in his gaze.

“Yeah,” he says quietly, his voice soft, yet sure. “Let’s go.”

Relief washes over you as you take his hand, the touch of his fingers grounding you, soothing the frayed edges of your emotions. As he helps you stand, the tension between you shifts again—not gone, but different. The heat is still there, simmering under the surface, but it’s mixed with something softer now, something that feels more real.

──────────────────────────────

Back at your apartment, the quiet felt almost surreal after the chaos of the night. The familiar warmth of your space wrapped around you like a comforting blanket, a stark contrast to the lingering tension still buzzing between you and Mark. You felt the shift in the air the moment you stepped through the door—the atmosphere was softer, quieter, more intimate, and the reality that it was just the two of you sank in.

Mark followed you inside, his eyes taking in your surroundings with quiet interest. The apartment was all yours for the night, a small comfort in itself, and you were already beginning to sober up. Mark, as if reading your mind, immediately took care of you, handing you a bottle of water. “You need this,” he said softly, his tone gentle, but there was an undercurrent of care in his voice that made your chest tighten.

You took small sips, the cool water refreshing as it slid down your throat, grounding you back to the present. Meanwhile, Mark wandered around your room, and you couldn’t help but watch him, feeling something shift between the two of you.

Your space was a reflection of you—a safe haven filled with little pieces of your world. The fairy lights you’d strung up glowed softly, casting a warm, golden hue over everything. The air smelled faintly of lavender, the scent of your candles lingering in the air. Your walls were lined with your art, pieces of yourself you rarely shared with anyone else. There were posters of abstract designs, dreamy landscapes, and sketches that felt like fragments of your soul on display.

Unique and delicate things decorated your shelves—a crystal lamp you had found at a flea market, a few small plants in pots you had painted yourself, and a collection of books you loved but hadn’t read in ages. The room felt like a mix of creativity and chaos, an organized mess that somehow made sense only to you.

Mark’s eyes moved from one corner to the next, a small smile tugging at his lips as he took everything in. He seemed fascinated by the art on your walls, lingering over certain pieces as if trying to figure out the stories behind them. You could see the admiration in his gaze, the way he appreciated your space without needing to say much.

“You really made this place your own,” he commented softly, running a hand over one of the posters, careful not to disturb it. “It’s beautiful..”

A warm flush crept up your neck at his words. You weren’t used to someone appreciating your space like this, not in such a genuine, heartfelt way. Mark wasn’t just complimenting the decor—he was complimenting you, the person who had created this world.

“Thanks,” you murmured, feeling shy all of a sudden. “It’s nothing special.”

Mark shook his head, still gazing around. “It’s special because it’s yours.” His voice was soft, sincere, and it made your heart do a strange, fluttery thing in your chest.

“Can you help me get my necklace off?” You ask, smiling as he’s already making his way over to you. 

Mark’s fingers worked gently at the clasp of your necklace, his touch soft and deliberate. You tilted your head slightly, giving him better access as he carefully unhooked the delicate chain from around your neck. The warmth of his fingers brushing against your skin sent a shiver down your spine, but it wasn’t from the cold—it was the softness of the moment.

He moved slowly, taking the necklace and walking over to your jewellery stand. You watched as he placed it neatly on one of the hooks, his movements calm and precise, as if he had done this a hundred times before. There was something almost tender in the way he handled your things, treating them with care, as if they were an extension of you.

Mark turned back to you, his eyes soft as he reached for your earrings next. His fingers grazed your earlobe, and you held your breath, feeling the closeness between you both. The quiet of the room wrapped around the two of you, making the moment feel even more intimate. One by one, he removed each earring, placing them in their designated spot, never once rushing or making you feel hurried.

The silence was filled with unspoken words, a shared understanding that neither of you dared to voice. When he was done, he looked back at you with a small, almost shy smile. “There,” he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper.

You needed to clear your head, to shake off the growing feelings you had for him, so you excused yourself to take a shower. As you stood under the warm spray, washing away the remnants of the night, you couldn’t stop thinking about the way Mark had looked at you. The way his presence had shifted from something casual and playful to something deeper, more intimate. The thought scared you, but it also made you feel seen in a way you hadn’t felt in a long time.

When you finally stepped out of the shower, wrapped in a soft bathrobe, you found Mark sitting on your bed, strumming a gentle tune on a guitar. You paused, tilting your head in confusion. Where did he get that from? You didn’t remember him carrying a guitar around at the party or on the way home. Had you really been that out of it?

“Where did you get a guitar from?” you asked, narrowing your eyes as you watched him hum and play a melody, his fingers dancing over the strings with ease.

He looked up at you, his eyes twinkling with amusement. “I always carry it around.”

You raised an eyebrow, folding your arms as you leaned against the doorframe. “I’m pretty sure I would’ve noticed if you brought a guitar with you to the party.”

Mark chuckled, his laughter soft and infectious. “Maybe you weren’t paying attention.”

You rolled your eyes, crossing the room to sit beside him on the bed. “So, you play basketball and the guitar?” you teased, feeling more relaxed now, the tension easing into something more playful.

He nodded, plucking a few more notes before setting the guitar down. “My major is music.”

You laughed, shaking your head. “Okay, Troy Bolton.”

He chuckled along with you, his eyes softening as he looked at you. “It’s way past midnight,” he said after a moment, his voice quieter now, more serious. “You should get some sleep. Don’t you have lectures tomorrow?”

You shrugged, already feeling the weight of the day catching up to you. “I’m not going.”

Mark gave you a pointed look. “Don’t say that. Yes, you are.”

You sighed dramatically but didn’t argue. Instead, you moved to the other side of the bed, pulling back the covers and sinking into the soft sheets. The warmth of the bed, combined with the softness of the moment, made your eyelids heavy with exhaustion.

As you began to drift off, you noticed Mark standing up, throwing a blanket onto the chair in the corner. You frowned, sitting up slightly. “You don’t need to sleep there,” you whispered, your voice soft and almost shy. “Come here. There’s so much space in my bed.”

He raised an eyebrow, his lips quirking into a small smile. “It’s literally a single bed.”

You rolled your eyes, patting the space beside you. “I just want someone to hold me so I can sleep.”

For a moment, Mark hesitated, his eyes searching yours. But then he sighed, his expression softening as he crossed the room and slipped under the covers beside you. His arms wrapped around you, pulling you close in a way that made your heart race, but also made you feel safe.

Mark held you tightly, his arms pulling you closer, enveloping you in his warmth. You felt the steady rise and fall of his chest against your back, the soothing rhythm of his breathing lulling you into a sense of comfort you hadn’t felt in so long. His breath was warm against your forehead, gentle, almost protective, as he leaned in and whispered, “Sleep well, Y/N.”

The sound of his voice, low and intimate, sent a soft shiver down your spine. His words weren’t just a wish; they felt like a promise, like he was going to hold you through the night and keep you safe. 

His hand, large and warm, rested softly on your waist, fingers brushing against the bare skin under your shirt with the lightest of touches. It was a subtle, almost unconscious gesture, but the intimacy of it sent your heart fluttering. He didn’t pull away; he stayed close, his body pressed gently against yours, grounding you in the moment. Every small shift of his body, every breath he took, seemed to ease the tension that had been weighing on you for so long.

You let your hand rest on top of his, feeling the warmth of his skin under your fingertips. His fingers instinctively intertwined with yours, the touch delicate yet reassuring. It was more than just physical contact—it was the silent understanding that you weren’t alone anymore, that he was here, holding you through it all.

His lips brushed lightly against your forehead, a featherlight kiss that made your heart swell. “I’ve got you,” he murmured, his voice barely audible, but the sincerity in his tone wrapped around you like a blanket.

With a soft sigh, you let yourself relax completely, your body melting into his. You could feel the last remnants of stress slipping away, replaced by the steady, calming presence of Mark beside you. His embrace was warm, solid, and it made you feel safe in a way you hadn’t in what felt like forever.

As your eyes fluttered closed, you let yourself fall into a deep, peaceful sleep, your mind finally quiet, the weight of the world finally slipping away, knowing he would be there when you woke.

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authors note — surprise!! i’ve been teasing this one for a while and just wanted to drop it without any prior warning :) this is gonna be a long ride and have many more parts so comment if you want to be on the tag list :) send an ask through telling me what you thought or interact !! thank you

[ihaechans]

Reminiscing || Mark Lee

PAIRING ▸ Mark Lee x fem!reader

GENRES ▸ best friends to lovers, big fluff

WARNINGS/CONTENT ▸ profanity, sweet Mark, Y/n character development is real, literally just sickening fluff...

SUMMARY ▸Time flies. Especially with best friend and nerdy ride or die Mark Lee. Reminiscing on the rooftop leads to foreign emotions and forgotten memories to rise to the surface, and the obvious tension between you two can no longer be avoided.

WORD COUNT▸1.7k

A/N▸ Head empty.... just boyfriend Mark Lee. (Dead serious this has been in my drafts for 8 months.)

ALSOOO this was originally supposed to be smut but I decided to take it out and make it a cute fluffy story because it’s my first fic back 😭

You couldn’t accept that there could be other men out there named Mark Lee. The idea of someone having a completely different look and persona than the one of your best friend completely baffled you.

In your heart, your Mark was the greatest one. The only one you truly needed to keep going in life as well.

You were always one of the castaways at your school. Unknown. Boring. Friendless. It was always something you were used to.

It wasn’t exactly bad though. You actually quite enjoyed having so much time to focus on your studies since you were never invited to parties or friendly hangouts, but there was always this feeling. A feeling of loneliness and despair.

In complete solitude, you would study from dusk til dawn. Barely even glancing away from your computer screen throughout the day. The only time you would bother to check your phone was to see if your mom had texted you, which you admitted, was kind of humiliating.

No one ever would have thought an accidental text to the wrong number would start the strange friendship between you and Mark Lee, one of the more popular members of one of the biggest frats on campus.

Unknown Number:  Yo Jaeminnnn! Just got your new number man :) It’s mark btw

You: This isn’t Jaemin. Wrong number “Mark”.

Unknown Number: My bad. Why is my name in quotes though? I promise I’m the real Mark dude :(

You: You can be some weirdo trying to get my phone information by pretending to be one of my classmates. Who knows if you’re really Mark?

Unknown Number: I do… because I am the real Mark 🤦‍♂️ who is this anyway so I can save your number?

You: It’s y/n. You shouldn’t need to save my contact anyways. We won’t ever text again after this.

Mark: I like to be friendly with everyone just in case. Maybe you should try it instead of accusing me of being a criminal when you don’t even know me 😁

You: Goodbye Mark. You’re wasting my precious study time and you’re kind of annoying :)

You couldn’t imagine how any of your fellow students looked so relaxed and at ease with the endless piles of work. It was completely mind boggling.

Mark and his friends were those sort of people, and you were always jealous of them. How they continued to stay on top of assignments? You would never know.

“You were such an asshole when we first met.” His presence catches you off guard, but you can recognize that chuckle from anywhere. Silently turning your body to face him, you smile, dismissing his brutally honest comment.

“Well. I never knew having friends could be so…”

He finished your thought for you, “Life changing? Exciting? Eye opening?”

“Mhm.” You hum, mindlessly patting the spot next to you on the balcony, expecting him to plop down in the exact spot any second now.

“I admit, I was a complete bitch for no reason.” You stare at the sunset as you speak, knowing that Mark is simply listening in. “I was jealous of you. You were so effortlessly funny and friendly. Everyone knew and loved you, plus you got exceptionally good grades.”

Honestly, you don’t know why you were admitting to any of this. It made you feel as if you were a terrible person. Hopefully mark didn’t see you that way.

You sigh, “I wanted to be you. It was so unfair how I practically slaved away all day and night while you and your friends were out partying every other day yet still managing to pass. I wanted that to be me.”

You stare at Mark now, waiting to him to respond to such a presumptuous confession.

He was smiling, a smile full of love and kindness. He huffs out a laugh, you should’ve known he could never hate you. He could never hate anyone, no matter how wrong they could treat him.

“Can I admit something too?” He’s staring straight into your eyes now, a serious look taking over his features. “That day, I didn’t know it was your number, but-“ he clears his throat, bracing himself for the things he was about to admit to.

“I was interested in you before we became friends. You seemed pretty chill, but I never approached you since you always seemed like you wanted nothing to do with the human species. You were also really pretty…”

You ignore the butterflies that erupt in your stomach, and hopefully Mark couldn’t see the slight blush that appeared on your face.

He lays down onto his back, laughing with his arms behind his head for support. “Aren’t you glad I didn’t give up on you?” He teases, poking you in the side with his elbow gently.

You smile and hit him on the shoulder playfully, rolling over onto your side to look at him. “Aren’t you glad I didn’t block you as soon as you texted me?”

He laughs even harder now, admitting that he found it funny how you seemed so intimidating over text but in person you were completely different.

“You wouldn’t even remember me if I hadn’t kept texting though,” he responds, ending the sentence with another chuckle.

“Wish I blocked you sooner so I didn’t start warming up to your annoying ass.” You speak with a serious expression, but one glance at Mark is all it takes for a laugh to force its way out, his own laughter causing you to giggle even harder.

“God, I love you Y/n. Seriously. You’re the best friend I could ever ask for.”

There it is. “Best friend”. All hope for you was over. You’ve officially been friend-zoned.

You ponder for a moment, thinking about all that he’s done for you and considering how easily things could’ve been different if you weren’t such a jealous bitch in the beginning.

Your friendship could’ve been so much stronger by now if you had accepted his kindness from the start, and you mentally scold yourself for it.

“Say it back.” He orders, perking up from his relaxed position and scooting closer to your body in between every passing second. “Say it back before it’s too late.”

“Why should I? Admitting I wanted to be you is already embarrassing enough. My embarrassment level is already full for today, tell me again tomorrow and maybe I’ll answer.”

“Alright then,” he tsks, “Guess I’ll just have to tickle you until you admit you love me back.”

Your eyes widen in genuine terror. You absolutely hated getting tickled and promised you would personally file a complaint to the police if Mark ever even thought about tickling you.

“Mark. Stop.”

“Say it back, idiot.”

Hissing through your teeth, you prepare for the worst. You’d rather just tell him you love him back than endure his attacks of merciless tickles and teasing.

Conceding defeat, you blink at him and fight the embarrassing grin that wants to appear on your lips. “I love you too Mark.” Hearing yourself say those words out loud almost has you jumping up and down with embarrassment and sending shivers down your spine.

You take a deep breath, trying to stay in control of your emotions.

He smiles, feeling content with your words. You’ve been friends for so long, and now you’ve finally mustered up the courage to tell him how you feel.

Countless times, he’s told you he loves you, but you’ve never said it back until now. You felt like a brand new person.

There’s a comfortable beat of silence before he speaks up, distrusting the moment of pure silence.

“Isn’t the sunset so pretty?” He murmurs, eyes completely focused on something else.

“Mark. You’re not even looking at the sunset,” you laugh, seeming to be completely clueless at what he was hinting at.

He chuckles at your ignorance before taking your hands into his and looking you in the eye. “Y/n. You’re pretty.” Your breath catches in your throat, “I like you. I thought it would be so obvious by now. I’ve been hinting at it for ages but you’re just so clueless it seems like this is the only way you would ever realize.”

He grins sheepishly, wincing as he awaits your reaction.

The only thing you can do is stare at him wide eyed, jaw almost completely on the floor at the sudden confession. “You like me?”

“Mhm.” He mumbles, scooting even closer to you, his eyes gazing straight at your lips.

He moves forward, cupping your face with his hands so he can finally attempt to kiss you.

Mark had no idea why he was feeling so bold in that moment. This situation could either go extremely terrible or surprisingly well.

He stops before his lips touch yours, giving you a second to push him away if you really needed to. You lightly grasp his side and he smiles before connecting your lips together.

It feels like heaven, almost like you two were meant to be. You wonder why you hadn’t done this sooner, and then remember that you were the one being so blinded by friendship that you dismissed his obvious flirting as teasing all this time.

All of Marks emotions embrace him as he backs away, warmth and comfort echoing between the two of you. Mark is a mess, face red and hands jittering uncontrollably and you find it quite amusing.

“I cant believe I actually just did that…” Mark is so overwhelmed as he retreats, barely able to keep his composure as he nearly fumbles with his words.

Your cheeks flush with the realization that you had just kissed Mark. You struggle to keep a grin from forming on your face. “Me neither…” you mumble, bringing a hand up to your lips, still shocked.

Mark smiles at you with adoration, mustering up the courage to finally say what he’s been holding back for the last few years. “Y/n, will you be my girlfriend?”

He looks into your eyes in anticipation, barely able to contain his eagerness as he awaits for an answer.

“Mark, are you seriously asking me that right now?” You laugh, watching as marks smile fades away slightly in confusion. “How could I ever reject you?”

A sweet smile forms on your face, and the look of confusion soon leaves marks features as you kiss him again, making sure he understands that you are in fact, now his girlfriend.

[ohmygs-blog]

to be dating mark lee…

❀ boyfriend texts

bf texts.

bf texts ii.

bf texts iii. (dirty jokes! ver)

bf texts iv.

bf texts v.

bf texts vi.

bf texts vii.

fluffy bf texts.

texts while on ur period.

cute messages while you’re asleep.

❀ idol bf! texts

idol! bf texts.

idol! bf texts ii.

idol! reader x idol! mark.

idol! reader x idol! mark, being shipped together.

idol! reader x idol! mark, being shipped together ii.

friendly ex idol! mark

❀ angsty texts

angsty texts.

angsty texts ii.

❀ other texts

asking about marriage.

cheering up sad gf.

memes bf! mark would send.

reader being jealous of renjun.

fwb / situationship.

fwb / situationship ii.

[ja3mln]

BF!SPIDERMARK / TEXT VER.

pt 2

cw: suggestive, very slight angst.

[galacticseonghwa]

Mark Lee bf texts pt.2

INCLUDES: fluff, swearing, mark being absolutely someone you would fall in love with, suggestive content

a/n: not proofread

[haespoir]

texts w/ boyfriend!mark

our daily dose of mark lee 🩵