#attempted angst at least😞

[ggyutarist]

✩₊⁺⋆☾ —— Moon, I hope you still know you always shine the brightest at night.⟢

A/N: harhar this is most especially for those who always did their best but were still outshined by some others (oh i wonder who that is). this one is kinda different as it uses I/me pronouns for most of it. uhhh yeah guys. ik some of us are tired of trying to get our efforts noticed but ykw?? live for yourself bc if they wont notice then they sure are missing a lot of stuffs💥💥. inspired by that random uquiz i took ahasshshasha.

💫: Beomgyu x GN reader 

(except its mentioned that its beomgyu only at the very end)

Content: Angst (i attempted pls forgive me), barely any cursing, Moon represents reader, Sun could be anyone you wish, Sun outshines Moon lol and Moon cries abt it.

WC: 1k

Foolish, innocent children would think the Moon has its own light that blooms only when the sky is inked in a dark shade.

“It’s so pretty!” A kid would say.

It is truly pretty, isn’t it? I can’t bear to tell you it’s fake. I can’t bear to tell you that the Moon gets the light from something that actually shines. Something that shines way too much. Fuck the Sun. It shines on its own, sure, but it’s blinding. No way anyone can even look at it for too long without risking their precious sight.

Why? Why does everyone like the Sun? Okay, it shows you big clouds you can make shapes with, wow! Lightens your path so you could see everyone and everything, that’s so astonishing!! It shines a lot, doesn’t it? The Sun has lots of people watching over it. Appreciating it every. single. day.

But the Moon?

Is long forgotten. Everyone turns off their lights, puts on their sleeping mask, and hits the bed. A few may give some glances, but they let themselves soon fall to the temptation of sleep. No one really bothers cranking their necks up a bit and look towards the Moon. You know, give it a bit of attention too.

Too bad that nobody cares, right? I don’t know. I don’t know why I’m so forgettable. Why do you just brush past me? Don’t you care? Don’t you give a fuck at all? Is my glow not pretty? Is Sun prettier?

If only the gods gave the Moon freedom to cry, it would sob. Sob so loudly that it would echo among the skies. If that’s the only way to get a few eyes on it, then so be it. If they would not look at it for its beautiful aspects, then look at the ugly side. Hear it sob so noisily till you scrunch up your faces in disgust, asking what the hell was wrong with it.

That’s the problem. You don’t know.

The Moon would cry and cry, choking up apologies that no ears would hear.

I’m sorry. I’m sorry that I cannot light up the sky as much as Sun does. I’m sorry that I cannot give you clouds you can make shapes out of. I only have stars with me.

Stars aren’t as big as the clouds but there’s many of them.

Clouds look too few because they’re large in size. It was okay to the people. Why? Because it looked grand. They covered up majority of the sky unlike stars.

No one bothers looking at the stars. Not as many as with clouds, at least. Everyone sleeps. They all sleep. Why don’t you look at my stars? They’re small but I gave you millions, billions, trillions of them. Please notice my stars. Please.

I know, I know, I know, I KNOW. I know I can’t shine as bright as the Sun. I know my light is just reflected off from the Sun. But what will I do? No matter what I do, it is what it is. Please stop comparing me to Sun. I know it’s the better version of me but I’m trying okay? I really am. Why can’t you see these trillion stars I try showing you?

Right. Because you’re asleep, waiting for Sun tomorrow.

Why do you brush me off so easily? Don’t you fucking understand how hard it is to light up a sky that ends up black the whole time? I said I’m trying. I really am. I have to go through that every single night but no one bothers looking at me. I have to light up my brightest using Sun’s light but the sky still ends up dark. 

Why is my sky inked in this miserable black while Sun gets a pretty blue? Is my shine not bright enough? Am I too dull for you?

Sun gets the privilege of seeing everyone unlike Moon. Moon, who is doomed to a fate of prolonged darkness, cannot see everyone because it is too dark. But that’s where Moon’s view is wrong in. Just because Sun can see everyone, does not mean Moon has no one at all.

There is someone looking over Moon, all the time. Perhaps, not just one person but Moon will never know because it is too dark. Although, it should not assume that it is trapped alone in this inked sky. Always, someone is looking up at it and appreciating its beautiful stars. It may not cover up the sky as much as clouds but who should care? The stars still have their own charms and the fact there’s too many of them to count…is amazing on its own.

The way the dark sky was bedecked in tiny stars that glowed was mesmerizing. Whoever missed on seeing that is truly unfortunate but maybe, not for him.

Someone who is watching the Moon right now, he wishes he could show just how pretty they are. If there was a big enough mirror, then he would bring it. The way the Moon shined in a dark night was inspiring. The little stars along with it…he wished he could hold it in his arms. Embrace them and show them to Moon so they would love themselves a little more. The stars were always pretty. Small but pretty. Take out his camera and snap a picture of it? Maybe. He wants to show the Moon so badly but unfortunately, in this life, the Moon might never be able to see. Although, still…

I hope the Moon can see that someday…somehow, somewhere that they are not alone and someone is watching them. I hope the Moon knows it still shines the brightest at night with their stars. Even if it takes millennia.

“The Moon is so pretty, isn’t it?”

For you were the moon that tried their very best for the longest time up to now and Beomgyu, was the sole person who saw every effort and wish he could show you how pretty you made the sky. Even if it was just little stars that you did.

[jks1uv]

𝑇ℎ𝑒 𝑂𝑛𝑙𝑦 𝐸𝑥𝑐𝑒𝑝𝑡𝑖𝑜𝑛 ; mark grayson / invincible

summary: in every universe, mark grayson turns into his father and seals his destiny as a true viltrumite. what if things are different this time?

pairing: fem!reader x mark grayson.

trope: childhood best friends to lovers + fate gives love a chance.

genre: fluff + angst + slow-burn romance + hurt / comfort + some comedy.

warnings‼️: crude language + spoilers for s3 (mark’s variants) + amber & eve never get w mark but r goated wingwomen & friends for reader + william, rick & rex r goated wingmen for mark + 2 jealous!mark moments + the tiniest moment of tension + multiverse talk + a mention of the chicago incident feat. scott / powerplex + REX LIVES 🗣️‼️🔥🔥 + a short & sweet kiss scene.

word count: 9,975.

random disclaimerrr: when eve said “you don’t deserve this” 😞 like he always just out here suffering 💔 kate, immortal, cecil & scott pmo so bad like bruh can y’all just pls stfu pls 🙏🏽 I CANNOT BELIEVE MY GOAT REX IS DEAD LIKE BRUH HOW 😭😞💔 but the 2 ppl majority of the fandom hates get their happy ending… mkay… happy reading! ʕ•ᴥ•ʔ ♡ © 2025 @jks1uv

Mark Grayson has always liked you.

It was the first day of school, 2nd grade homeroom. The first day of school was always nerve wracking but this time was different.

His desk was next to you per the seating chart and you were the last kid to come in.

You were wearing a black t-shirt with some white bows on it and sky blue jeans with pink flowers embroidered on the pockets. White twinkle toes with pink and purple rhinestones.

Your hair was styled in 2 ponytails with cute bows on the bands.

Your eyes bright and a shy smile on your lips.

“Hi.” You bashfully said to him.

“Hi.” He said back in a daze.

His seven year old heart was fluttering and he was as red as a tomato when he realized it was you! You were the girl whose empty desk he was seated next to!

You always shared homeroom, if not, recess with him in elementary school.

Then came middle school, where you had at least 2 classes with him.

High school was a bit easier as you saw him 3-4 times a day, and that’s not including clubs or other extracurricular activities.

He spent 11 years like that. Seeing you in class, in the hallways, at lunch or after school.

Your relationship with him never wavered. Your character was still the same even after new chapters and opportunities for development.

He’s endured some insane shit, but he’s so happy the one constant in his life remained consistent.

“You still have a crush on her?!”

“Shut up, William. Or do you want the whole world to know.” Mark chides.

William snorts like it’s the most obvious thing in the world (it is). “The whole world already knows, it’s just your dumbass that’s somehow oblivious.”

“Give the lover boy a break.” Amber lightly teases.

Mark sighs and rubs his face with his hands, trying to hide the redness creeping up on him without his consent.

“Is that her?” Rick points towards Mark’s dream girl.

But what he forgot to mention was the living explosion (literally) walking alongside you.

“What’s he doing here?” Eve’s surprised Rex decided to step foot on college campus willingly.

William subtly side-eyes Mark and makes a desperate attempt to hold in his laughter by squeezing Rick’s hand.

Mark slowly stands, a confused look on his face.

“I’ll… go find out.” He says it like a question, like he’s unsure if that’s what he should do.

Amber and Eve share a knowing look.

“You’re funny.” You say as you catch your breath.

Rex shrugs nonchalantly and smirks. “Yeah, I get that a lot.”

You’re shaking your head and are about to say something when you see Mark in front of you.

“Mark.” Your eyes crinkle as you smile.

You go in for your usual hug and Mark accepts it.

Unbeknownst to you that he’s making wide eyes among other facial expressions in a desperate attempt to make contact with the other male.

The hug lasts for a second longer and you ignore the butterflies that swarm your belly, deducing that he probably just wanted to hug you a bit longer.

No big deal you think as you’re screaming inside the longer you feel Mark’s arms around your waist.

When you meet Mark’s face, he allows himself to give you a tight-lipped smile.

“Mark, this is-”

“Rex! Heyy, how’s it going?” He chuckles nervously and rubs the back of his neck.

Your eyebrows furrow and you tilt your head a bit. “Yeah… wait, you guys know each other?”

Rex is enthusiast with his reply. “Fuck yeah! This is my best bro.”

He slaps Mark’s back with a confident grin and the “bro” laughs awkwardly.

You know, one of those ‘ha ha ha’ type laughs.

“Okay. So, um, Mark?”

“Yeah?” Aaand his voice cracks.

You politely ignore it but Mark wants to die inside.

“I was wondering if you were still down to go to the mall?”

Mark knows you’re attentive and take your friendships seriously, which isn’t old news. But he can’t help feeling special that’s you remembered a thought from a couple days prior.

“Only if you’ll buy me boba.”

Mark never lets you buy him anything if he can help it, and that’s how it’s always been.

You insist, he’ll deny; but that doesn’t mean his sentiment isn’t nice.

You blink and softly smile at his bargain. “Deal.”

Rex hums thoughtfully, a hand at his chin and his gaze on the sky.

“Can I join? I don’t have anything going onnn~” He suggests in a sing-song manner.

“No, you can’t!” Mark suddenly yells.

You look at Mark with furrowed brows. “Mark, don’t be rude.”

“Yeah, Mark, don’t be rude.” Rex repeats with a sly expression.

Mark deeply exhales through his nose and puts on a fake smile. “Rex, can I talk to you? Alone.”

“Sure!”

He follows Mark about 15 steps away from you.

You decide to sit down on a bench nearby and watch some TikTok to pass the time.

“Hey, so, um- quick question: what the hell are you doing here?”

Rex scoffs. “What, I can’t come visit my bro?”

Mark quirks an eyebrow and crosses his arms, unimpressed.

Rex puts his hands up in surrender. “Fine, fine. I’ll be honest. I was here to talk to you about Cecil,” He looks over at you and sighs dramatically.

“But?” Mark presses when he sees Rex eyeing you.

“I see a hot girl and I can’t help myself, you know?” He smirks knowing he’ll rile Mark up and get the exact reaction he wants.

Mark immediately gets in his line of sight, making Rex back up a bit from the fast and unforgiving wind.

“Woah, man! A little warning next time before you almost blow me away?”

Mark ignores him. “Don’t call her that.”

The truth is, Rex came to campus with a purpose.

Mark never talks about you, but Eve may have let your name slip into conversation a few times.

Rex may be aloof and jerk-ish but he’ll be serious when it’s time.

He’s seen the way Mark’s face changed every time Eve mentioned you; his head would tilt slightly, he’d have a small, unnoticeable smile on his lips.

Rex suspected a crush and he was right! Of course he was, look at the way he’s being defensive of you.

There was just one problem, he didn’t know how you looked. He asked Eve and she was suspicious, but when he revealed his own suspicions, she indulged him.

So, the two of them made a plan with Amber, William and Rick; Operation: Get Mark To Man Up and Admit His Feelings Before You Slip Away.

- FLASHBACK -

“She’s wearing a PINK t-shirt with ripped blue jeans. Oh, and a black backpack.” William directs.

“Pink shirt, black backpack, ripped blue jeans. Got it.”

“PINK as in the brand, not the color.” Amber reminds.

“Wait, what? So what color is the shirt?”

“I’m pretty sure it’s dark green..? And the logo is an even darker shade. ” Eve remembers.

Rex is so unimpressed.

“So, let me get this straight; she’s wearing a shirt from the brand PINK, but it’s just dark green?”

“I’d say you’re on the right track.” Rick chimes.

“This shit is ridiculous. I mean, seriously. Why can’t you girls just wear stuff that warrant normal descriptions?”

“Shut up, Rex.” Amber and Eve say simultaneously.

- FLASH FORWARD -

“Alright, her unwanted, meddling knight in shining armor.”

Mark is about to defend himself against that true baseless allegation when William and Rick find him.

“What’re we gossiping about?”

There’s a glint in William’s eyes, the kind you don’t miss if you’re paying attention to the very specific lilt in his tone.

“Oh, I was just telling Marky boy here,”

Mark side-eyes Rex at the ridiculous nickname.

“How he’s Y/n’s unwanted, meddling knight in shining armor.”

William claps his hands together. “That’s actually an accurate assessment.”

Mark’s offended. “Whose side are you on, anyway?”

Rick clears his throat as a guise to hide the very subtle laugh itching his throat.

“Sassy.” William says impressed in his best friends comeback skills.

Rex gets a phone call and excuses himself, giving William a crisp high-five and Rick a chest bump.

“Go get your Juliet, Romeo!” He cheers.

William shakes his head as he guffaws at the man.

“Dude, he's hilarious. How come you've never introduced him to us before?”

“Do I really have to answer that?”

William rolls his eyes at him.

“Anyways. When are you gonna tell Y/n you love her, again?”

“William!” Mark whines.

Rick smiles and expands his thinking.

“He meant to say, you should tell her soon. Before she's with someone else and leaves you to collect the pieces of your broken heart.”

“Not gonna lie, that's exactly what he needs to hear right now.”

Mark can't lie either. “Yeah. You kinda ate with that.”

William cringes and Rick winces with embarrassment.

“Hey! So, uhh, never say that again. Hope this helps.” William makes a finger heart.

“Wha- but I used the phrase correctly! Oh, come on guys, seriously?”

- MEANWHILE, WITH AMBER & EVE -

Amber and Eve thought it’d be a good idea to have a quick chat with you while you were waiting on Mark.

They casually brought up relationships and basically implied that ‘men ain’t shit’, but you disagree with that attitude.

“I dunno... Mark’s a good guy.”

“Oh yeah, for sure! Mark’s one of the good ones.”

Eve nods along to Amber’s statement.

She reminisced on her fair share with toxic relationships. She deliberately left out how it was with Rex but that’s okay, you don’t need to know that…

“Are you and Mark..?”

You feel your cheeks warm at the thought but you’d be lying if you deny your feelings for him.

“No.” You state with your head down and hands in your lap, playing with a ripped thread on your jeans.

“Huh. That’s a shame.” Eve comments.

That gets your attention.

“What do you mean?”

“It’s just that you and Mark seem…”

“Ideal.” Amber completes smoothly.

Your wide eyes and mouth agape give you away.

“You've never thought about him like that?”

You have, but how do you admit this to Mark’s coworker and friend without it getting back to him?

You think Amber and Eve are cool, they’re nice to you; but they're more Mark’s friends.

To you, they're friends of a friend.

Amber senses your hesitation and sat down next to you.

“We won’t tell anyone, if that’s what you’re wondering.”

Eve locks her lips with an imaginary key and throws it away.

That elicits a small laugh out of you, making you feel a bit more confident to share your secret.

You look over and see Mark and Rex still talking, now joined by William and Rick.

You contemplate for a moment before admitting it.

“Yeah.” You breathe out.

Eve hums in thought. “Let me guess, you don’t want to say anything in case it’ll fuck up the friendship?”

You gasp lightly at her spot-on description. “How’d you know?!”

She just shrugs nonchalantly and Amber bites her tongue to point out how obvious the entire situation is.

“I do like him, a lot... but what if he doesn’t feel the same? I would've ruined something special for something selfish and it would stay with me forever.”

You rant to the 2 girls you’re closest with and somehow, it feels right. You dismiss the thought of them turning out like the average mean girls in a teenage rom-com.

“But what if he does like you back?” Eve proposes.

“Then he’ll have to make the first move.” You shrug obviously.

“I know that’s right.”

You feel giddy from Amber’s approval.

She’s always been the type to keep it short and sweet but once you get her talking? She’ll always keep it real.

“We gotta go but we’ll see you later?”

Eve's already planning on the next hangout because she likes you enough to wanna help. She doesn’t like a lot of people so consider yourself special!

“Oh! Uh- yeah! Sure, that works with me.”

“It’s settled then.”

“See ya, Y/n.”

Coincidentally, you see the boys leave, leaving Mark to come to you.

“Shall we?”

“We shall.”

“Just let me try it.” Mark whines.

You shook your head and stood your ground. “It'll be gone in under ten seconds.”

He gasps dramatically, a hand to the heart like a lady of the opera. “You don't have faith in me?! I am a superhero-”

“I'm sure that's what they say.”

Your sarcasm isn’t foreign but he grows quiet at the remark.

It just slipped out so easily, without care or regard. You immediately try to make it right.

“I’m sorry, Mark.”

“No, no. It’s okay. You didn’t mean it like that.”

Ever the sweetheart but you refuse.

“No, it isn’t.” You stop walking. “I was careless with what I said and it’s not right.”

He looks at you with appreciation and gives you a smile. “Thank you, Y/n. It feels nice to be seen as I am.”

That both warms and saddens your heart.

You know how much he’s been through and even though you’ll never truly understand, you know he can still count on you. You’ll be there for him and that’s gotta mean something.

“Of course.”

You and Mark spend the next hour chatting and idly checking out things in the stores.

You wander into the dress and gown section and are completely in awe of the collection. Every color you can think of in every style: silky, thigh cut, halter top, strapless.

Your hands run through the material and you’re reminded of the spring formal coming up soon.

Not everyone gets the chance of going but you have a friend who extended the courtesy of inviting you and a plus one.

You recall the last time you went to a dance: your senior year of high school's prom. It was memorable. You were a part of a small group that went together; consisting of your friends.

You took photos with Mark and danced with him for a bit but not like anything you wished. There's nothing romantic about screaming club anthem lyrics while getting twerked on but since it was Mark's ass, you didn’t complain.

That was the first and last time he accepted drinks from William, by the way.

You chuckle quietly to yourself in memory of that glorious night when Mark comes up behind you.

"You ready to go or do you wanna try some of them on?"

You take another look at the gorgeous dresses and think.

Mark's hoping you say yes.

He won't admit it anytime soon and despite him already thinking you're the most beautiful girl he'd ever seen, prom night solidified that for him.

You had him starstruck.

His hear stuttered, adrenaline rushed through his veins and conjured up a swarm of butterflies in his stomach.

SImply put, every feeling and action that describes a man in awe of a pretty lady was an accurate depiction of him.

“Nah, maybe some other time.” You decide.

Mark nods, looking forward to the future dress tryouts. “Okay.”

Later, you have dinner with Mark, Oliver and Debbie.

Mark flew out and brought home some authentic pasta and garlic bread from Italy.

You rolled your eyes playfully and claimed he was being “extra” but reevaluated your statement when you thought about it.

If you could move that fast, you'd go to another country to have their finest food as well.

“It's so good to have you, honey.”

Debbie was always so nice to you, it made you feel happy and proud of yourself knowing someone's mom wholeheartedly accepts your presence in their kids life.

“It's good to be here.”

“Are you gonna stay the night?!” The purple little boy asked full of hope.

You didn't want to let him down but you had no choice.

“I'm sorry, Oliver, but not tonight.” You ruffle his hair and give him an apologetic smile.

You know he's bummed out when he doesn't sound that infectious laugh and tell you you're messing up his hair.

“Oh.”

You feel Mark's gaze on you and when you look up, he offers a sympathetic smile.

“I can stay until it's time for you to sleep.”

You know you've got him, it's an offer he can't refuse.

He's all smiles now and hugs you by the waist, his head laying on your chest.

You smile and hug him back, your head laying on his.

Mark cleans the table and Oliver takes out the trash while you help Debbie with the dishes.

“It doesn't matter how many times I say “no”, does it?”

You hum and shake your head. “Nope.”

You make small talk while you dry after she scrubs and rinses. About college, your plans after college, Mark.

“What about him?” You wonder.

“I mean, how has be been since...”

You see a look of helplessness on her face.

Debbie may be his mother but even she is not immune to the conflict of secrecy in her son's life.

You instantly feel bad.

Mark always tells you everything but to have his own mom ask you things about her son makes the situation complex.

You turn your head over your shoulder and see Mark playing a video game with his baby brother.

When Mark told you about Nolan, what happened to them on Thraxa and the events that unfolded afterwards, you didn't know how to respond.

As if hearing Nolan reveal his plans for Earth and call Debbie a “pet” wasn't heartbreaking enough, you were there with Debbie when Mark was brutally assaulted by his own father.

Then you hear of Nolan's second family he while the first one was still trying to keep it together and deal with the devastating aftermath of the biggest betrayal.

You almost cried when Mark broke down about Angstrom Levy hurting Debbie and Oliver.

You were out of the country on a field trip with your classmates when that happened. Devastated was an understatement for how you felt to hear both Mark and Debbie in the hospital from William.

Mark shamefully admitted to killing Angstrom, thinking that would sever the bond between you two. He expected you to be afraid of him, no matter how awful he’d feel about doing that to you.

It was the total opposite, you embraced him and let him cry on your shoulder. You let him feel everything but you also let him feel your hand in his.

You looked him in the eyes and told him that he did what he had to do and if killing Angstrom was the solution, then so be it.

“Mark told me everything. From seeing Mr. Grayson—”

You see a flash of hurt in Debbie's eyes at the mention of his name and almost forget that before he was known as Omni-Man, he was Mr. Grayson. He was Mark's dad.

“—again and about Oliver. Up until Angstrom and how the last thing he did was hurt you and Oliver.”

Debbie drys her hands and looks out of the window above the sink.

You can tell she’s disassociating. Her eyes seem so far away and crestfallen.

You don’t know if she’s getting much sleep but you also can’t imagine getting any if you were her.

You put a hand on her shoulder and she’s visibly shaken out of her thoughts.

“He’s gonna be okay, and so are you.”

She looks at you like you’ve lit up a candle at the end of a very dark tunnel.

Debbie leans in for a hug, eliciting a small sigh when you strengthen the embrace a little.

You figured she should feel taken care of for once.

“Thank you.”

You hear her sincerity and make a mental note to talk about this with Mark later on.

Oliver is tired out from having a “good playdate” with you and his older brother.

You tuck him in for the night per his request and can't help but feel the warmth from taking care of him touch your heart.

He's a growing boy but despite the many changes one goes through due to that constant stage of life, his feelings for you don't change.

Mark loves how much Oliver loves you. He loves seeing 2 of the most important people in his life get along so well, secretly admiring the way you've grown a soft spot in his mother's heart, too.

“They grow up so fast.” Mark attempts to humor.

You hum and try your best not to cry dwell on the bittersweetness of that phrase.

“Yeah.”

You're sitting on Mark's bed, looking fondly at the one of many drawings the kid made for you.

You softly exhale and bring up the conversation you had earlier with Debbie.

“Mark, I have something I want to talk to you about.”

He looks at you knowingly. “I know.”

Your eyes widen a bit at that revelation. “You do?”

He nods, a pursed smile on his face. “I have super hearing, remember?”

How did you forget that?

You close your eyes and exhale sharply, feeling silly for forgetting that power of his. “Right, duh.”

You don’t want to push the conversation if he’s not feeling it but you want to know if you did the right thing.

“I... didn’t overstep… right?”

“Oh, no. No, you didn’t.”

He rubs the back of his neck sheepishly. “I… haven’t had the best time talking to her about the things I say to you.”

You nod in understanding.

“I felt bad when she asked you how I’m doing. She should be able to ask me that.”

He’s guilt-stricken and it makes you feel dejected.

“Mark.” You put a comforting hand on his shoulder. “I know it’s hard talking to your mom about your inner turmoil but you’re all she has.”

Who does Debbie go to when she wants to discuss the matters of her heart? Who’ll listen when she wants someone to talk to?

“You give her the strength to carry on so let her give you some peace of mind, hm?”

Mark’s eyes shine with a strong fondness for you, his mind wiped clean of all things difficult and heart ten times lighter.

You’ve always understood him, whether he explains himself or not. You could always just know.

Your heart and emotional intelligence are perhaps his favorite things about you.

“You okay?” You ask, worried you’ve overstepped again.

“Never been better.” He promises.

A soft smile graces his lips as he leans in to hug you.

You accept it with an equal gentle expression and when you feel his arms wrap around your middle, you feel good.

Mark is invulnerable but not when it comes to the war between his mind and heart, that’s when you step in. And when you do, there’s always a resolution found in great clarity.

You feel his heartbeat above yours and unconsciously, they sync. His breathing evens out with yours.

It feels intimate, this hug.

You’ve hugged him a million times before but none of them have felt quite like this.

A heavy weight on his shoulders has evaporated and you can feel his gratitude.

“I don’t know how to thank you.” He murmurs.

You tilt your head back a bit so he can see you. “Then don’t.” You shrug, like it’s the most obvious answer.

He chuckles lightly and blinks at you, a tight-lipped smile on his face.

You’re suddenly hyper-aware of his arms loosening around you and replacing the warmth with his hands on your hips.

You subconsciously gulp and watch his eyes flicker towards your eyes, lips then back to your eyes.

You don’t know if it’s your mind playing tricks on you, but you swear he moves his head a little closer to you; just enough to barely touch noses.

Your stomach is in a frenzy and your hands feel clammy.

Is this really happening?

But then, like a switch being flipped off; he gingerly clears his throat and backs away.

You blink, catching yourself in a daze and he gets up to put on a movie.

He acts like he wasn’t just about to kiss you, as if that chemistry was just a figment of your imagination.

You don’t have the guts to say anything, to ask the obvious. So, you also pretend that you two weren’t just about to fulfill your biggest ‘what if?’ scenario.

“Oh, wow… that’s crazy.”

“I’m sorry, Y/n.”

It was nice to hear sympathies from the only people who you could afford to talk about this with. They’re also the only people who wouldn’t go and spread the telltale truth of the most embarrassing moment of your life.

“I can’t believe he fumbled this badly.” Amber facepalms herself in disbelief.

She sighs in exasperation and plops down on your bed with an arm covering her eyes.

Eve doesn’t move from her position; leaning on your wall with her arms crossed and her face in thought.

“What if he doesn’t like me like that?” You wonder aloud.

Amber peeks an eye out from under her elbow and Eve shakes her head.

“No, no, no. Trust me, that’s not it.”

“Don’t seem so sure.” You grumble as you pick at your nails to distract yourself from the heartache.

Eve sits down beside you and thinks about her words carefully. “Mark… well, I won’t defend him; he is kinda stupid.”

“Kinda?” Amber argues.

That makes you grin a bit.

“But he’s also your best friend, and you’re his. Maybe he doesn’t know how he feels but he does know that you’re not worth the risk of something he’s unsure will ever happen.”

Somehow, she put things into a perspective you’ve never thought about before.

“I never thought about it like that.”

You feel Amber sit up.

“That’s because it’s a confusing situation. Seeing both sides of the story might help you make some sense, give you consolation.”

You nod, already having potential answers to your unanswered questions. If not real answers, you’ll settle for theories. It’s still something.

“Thank you, guys.”

Amber winks at you. “Anytime.”

“Of course. We're rooting for you both.”

You shyly smile when Eve nudges your shoulder.

“So," She claps her hands together. “what should we do to commence our very first sleepover? Omegle?”

Amber is concerned for the first time at Eve’s expense.

“Umm...” You pout your lips to the side.

“I don't find the idea of accidentally getting flashed the most... thrilling.” Ambers grimaces.

“Yeah.” You nod.

Eve has a sly look on her face, one that says her proposition comes with an entertaining twist.

“Trust me, I have an idea.”

“Okay, that was pretty fun.” Amber concedes.

You laugh softly to yourself, remembering the events from the previous night.

The 3 of you decide to go out for lunch, finding the night an excellent moment for bonding.

“What was fun?”

Mark pulls a seat up at the table you're occupying.

“Mark? How'd you know we were here?” You query.

Mark looks just as confused as you but before he could answer, Eve does it for him.

“I invited him.”

“Oh. Okay.”

You don't have a problem, it's just that you thought this was gonna be “girl time” as you like to call these moments.

It would've been nice to know, at least.

Amber attempts to start up a conversation but little did you know; this conversation was a part of Eve's “idea” she mentioned the night prior.

“We went on Omegle last night.”

Mark's eyebrows raise in surprise. “Did anything happen?”

You understand the underlying message to be, “Were you victims to any unsolicited sexual advance?” and find it kind of sweet that Mark cares enough to have that be his first train of thought.

“Yeah, actually.” Eve notes as she takes a bite of her burger.

“Y/n's got herself a loverboy.”

You choke on your drink. Exploding into a fit of coughs, you hope it kills you.

Mark is quick to pat your back and try to aid in helping.

When you catch your breath, you look over at him awkwardly and thank him.

“Don't mention it.” He humbly said.

You make it a personal mission to never bring it up. Ever.

Amber continues to fuel the fire.

“Yeahhh.” She sighs. “He's Russian and was all, like, ‘Your eyes are like the ocean and I am a merman.’.” She puts on her best Russian accent and giggles when she nails it.

“Mm!” Eve makes a noise of enthusiasm, adding on to the punchline. “And then he said, ‘They are so deep, I can drown in them.’.”

“The fuck?” Mark grunts under his breath. “But mermen can swim.”

Honestly, he thought it was fucking stupid. Even if this guy was a “merman”, he'd be able to swim. Drowning is totally out of the question.

“Yeah, but it was the thought that counts.” Amber spoke before eating a fry.

“It was pretty corny.” Eve seemingly agrees with Mark.

“See?! I knew I wasn't the only one.” Mark nods to himself.

“But...”

His smile drops.

“I gotta admit, it was kind of romantic.”

Mark can't believe this.

Is romance really dead? Aren't punchlines supposed to make sense?

He knows it's only romantic because the guy's Russian. Okay, so he has an accent. So what? That should pardon his inadequacy of flirting?

“You guys only ate it up because he has an accent.”

Mark narrows his eyes as he takes a curly fry from your plate.

Amber and Eve side eye each other with mischief as they see you enter the ring.

“I thought it was kind of sweet, you know? At least he tried.” You counter.

Mark tilts his head, clearly bewildered. “You mean to say that you actually liked that?”

You don’t like his accusatory tone. “It wasn’t that bad, Mark.”

He rolls his eyes and begs to differ. “Wasn’t that bad- it made no sense! He definitely pulled that shit out of Google’s top thirty best flirty lines.” He puts air quotes around best.

“Oh, would you look at that? I actually have to go do that... thing.” Eve slowly rises from her seat.

“Yeah, me too.” Amber flashes a sweet smile.

They’re gone before you can impose.

“They really just left.” You say to no one.

Mark is still somehow going. “I just… I dunno.” He says, defeated.

“Mark, it wasn’t that deep. He liked my eyes and said some line that made me feel nice. That’s all.”

He nods like he understands but he really doesn’t.

“He’s no Mr. Darcy.” You settle as you take a sip of your milkshake.

Mark smiles at that and you’re confused.

“Why’re you smiling?”

“I knew it! I knew you couldn’t possible swoon over that ridiculous, nonsensical one-liner.”

You laugh incredulously. “Seriously, what’s your problem?”

He raises his hands in surrender. “I just knew he couldn’t be your type after that. Sure, you like them romantic but with genuine thought.”

He says that so confidently, with such attention, it makes you feel nicer than the Russian’s compliment. He makes you feel seen with that keen observation.

You nod to yourself, lowkey impressed.

“Mkay.” You simply say.

His gaze flickers towards you at the seemingly confusing, neutral response.

“What.”

“What, what?”

“You said that like you’re not convinced.”

You deeply exhale, not wanting to argue anymore. “Mkay.”

His eyes widen a bit and he snaps at you like he’s just discovered the phrase: ‘eureka!’.

“That, right there. That’s what I mean.”

You rub at your head as if you’ve got a headache but you doubt you won’t get one soon.

“Elaborate.”

You’re sticking with as little words as possible if it means to get to the point.

“Are you mad at me?” He asks with worry coating his tone.

You shake your head, unsure of what’s happening. “I just don’t know what’s gotten into you today. You’re in this strange mood to argue.”

He blinks.

You’re right.

Arguments are a rare occurrence in this relationship.

“We never argue.” He realizes regretfully.

Your eyes trail up his form and you see the uncomfortableness etched onto his outline.

“I’m sorry-”

“Sorry-”

There’s a pause, one that melts the lingering awkwardness into friendliness.

You see the hints of a smile creep up on him and instinctually, there’s one in yours.

“You first.”

Ever the gentleman.

“Sorry for making it awkward.” Your fingers interlock with each other and you give him an apologetic look.

Mark immediately shakes his head. “No, you didn’t make anything awkward… It was me. I got-”

He doesn’t speak for a few seconds, trying to find another way out of this as two thirds of his sentence has already been put out.

“You got..?”

He puts on a tight-lipped smile but it looks pained. “I just wanna say that I’m sorry for getting defensive for no reason.”

He thinks that was a good excuse for his detour but you’re smart.

“Jealous.” You say firmly.

“Huh?” He squeaks and immediately clears his throat.

“You got jealous.” You shrug your shoulders and move the whip cream in your milkshake around with the straw.

He scoffs with the intention of obscurity. “That- I- What? Pfft, jealous. Who, me?! Yeah, right.”

His stuttering erupts a snort from you, an “I told you so” fresh on the tip of your tongue.

He wanted to spout declarations of how incorrect you are but he couldn’t. The cat had his tongue.

“Whatever.” He bites with little heat.

He crosses his arms over his chest and appears to look unaffected by your ability to see through him.

“Mkay.” You hum to tease him.

Your best friend groans and you giggle at him slouching down in his seat, his hands covering his face and in turn; a sheepish grin.

You’re in your home when your TV bears awful news.

“Breaking news: intruders that look like multiple Invincibles are wreaking havoc across the globe.”

As soon as you hear that, a loud boom is heard from across the city and sends shockwaves to where you are.

“We urge you to stay in your homes and hide. Do not make contact, I repeat; don’t engage with them.”

You’re scared.

How the hell are you supposed to stay hidden in your home when there’s the start of destruction visible outside?

How can they tell you to stay inside when there’s a chance you can die in there?

It’s not like the variants aren’t gonna come inside. Who’d stop them from hurling your place of residence like a football?

Despite all of those thoughts, you stay inside.

You hide in your living room. You sigh to yourself as you hide inside a spare closet, leaving a sliver of space open to breathe.

You turn your phone’s ringer off but feel the vibrations in your pocket. You look to see who it could be and feel so much relief flood your stomach when it’s Mark.

“Mark?” You say shakily.

“Y/n? Oh, thank god. Where are you?”

Your eyes water but you keep them at bay. No point in crying over spilled milk.

“I’m in the spare closet of the living room, what’s going on?”

He starts to explain when the call abruptly cuts.

So fucking cliche you think as you the see the dead battery sign.

The sound of a window opening makes you heave out a sigh of relief.

You get out and are about to hug him but the first thing you notice when you open the door is his face. Er, the lack thereof.

“Is… this a new costume?” You ask wearily.

You didn’t know Mark had a black mask installed. It covered his whole head and the lens was turquoise blue instead of white.

He just stares at you, unflinching and scarily still.

You gulp as the realization sets in your stomach.

This isn’t the Mark of your world. This isn’t the Invincible you recognize.

The masked stranger can sense your irregular heartbeat and hear the small panicked breaths that well up in your chest.

He slowly stalks towards you; like a predator to their prey, except there’s nothing dangerous about his stance. He doesn’t radiate harm or anger and he puts his hands up, as if to show you he won’t harm you.

For your own sake, you don’t believe that. You can’t believe that’s what he wants.

You’re frozen, wide eyes filled to the brim with fear and shock.

You grip your phone tight in your hands, ready to turn it into a weapon if you must.

He’s interrupted when another one shows up.

This one has a black and yellow suit with a yellow cape.

Your eyes dart to his figure and you’re sure this one’s gonna do the honors.

“You’re alive.” He says to himself.

His eyes are covered with white lenses but you know he’s looking at you.

His hands ball up into fists and he walks to you with an urgency in his stride.

You instinctually back up and hit a wall when the masked variant gets in between you both.

“She’s scared.”

The tone in his voice almost makes you think he cares. Almost.

“Get out of my way.” The bright-caped intruder basically spat his face.

“And let youuu have all the fun? I don’t think so!”

What the fuck?

You see what looks like Mark… in a mohawk.

His lips spread into a smirk, a cocky tone in his words.

Your nails press into your arm to prevent you from sputtering out a giggle.

How are you supposed to take him seriously when he’s willingly sporting a mohawk? Right.

If you knew there was going to come a time where your home is used as some sort of Invincible convention, you would’ve moved out a long time ago.

“You’re here.”

This one scares you a little.

His demeanor may be softer but his eyes, they’re wild with a fire furling around his pupils.

What makes the fear prick at your heart is the fact that he’s wearing the Viltrumite uniform.

Wherever he came from, he became his father.

That fact chills your bones and you think, how could that happen? Why did that happen?

His wild eyes are wide with surprise and there’s the ghost of a relieved smile on his face.

Very quickly have you gone from 0 to 100.

There are 2 seemingly decent Invincibles and 2 Invincibles that give off evil vibes.

What’s better news is that they all have some sort of fascination with you.

Awesome! Fantastic, even!

Your adrenaline has taken a back seat but you’re still unnerved by the destruction just outside your neighborhood.

You’ve never wished for a quicker death as this cat and mouse game is becoming all too much. The anticipation will kill you if they don’t.

“Alright,” Mohawk Mark yawns. “Enough dickin’ around.”

The 4 variants surround you, encasing you in an otherwise unbreakable square.

“You’re coming with us.” Decides the caped crusader.

He puts his hand out to grab you but is thrown through a wall by an unstoppable force.

It feels a bit blurry after that.

You feel yourself being lifted and moving at an alarming speed, your body lurching forward and side to side by the breeze taking you.

“I’m sorry. I’m so, so sorry.” He murmurs.

He hugs you close to his chest, a hand cradling the back of your head and the other clutching your back protectively.

“M-Mark?”

You find your voice amongst the dizziness clouding your head.

He holds your head and tilts it towards him, kissing the crown and meeting your eyes.

“Yeah, it’s me. You’re okay, you’ll be fine. Just stay here.”

You hold his wrists and blink, looking around you to find yourself with Debbie and her boyfriend, Paul.

“Please.”

Mark’s desperation appeals to you. His voice cracks with an urgency for your life. One that is begging you to listen, and you do.

“Okay.” You agree.

He nods and kisses you once again, a sweet promise pressed against your forehead.

You may have had the wind knocked out of you but that doesn’t mean you’re unaware.

Oh yeah, that kiss sobers you up real quick.

Your eyes are wide and cheeks are warm; you’re flushed and hope he doesn’t detect the jump in your heart rate because of his tenderness for you.

“Be careful.” You blurt out.

Mark looks back at you with a smirk on his face.

“I will.”

He kept his promise for the most part.

“Ow.”

“Maybe don’t move around a lot?”

“…Sorry.”

He winces as you treat his facial wounds.

Mark got pretty banged up; his left eye was swollen and purple from Conquests fists. He has similar shades of bruising on his face and a nasty cut on the bridge of his nose, another on the corner of his lip.

His arms and leg are almost fully healed.

It’s been a grueling 2 weeks.

Oliver helps out as much as he can.

Eve and the rest of the heroes are helping piece the cities back together but no matter how much they help rebuild, the atrocities committed won’t be forgotten.

Conquest was here on a personal mission and almost leveled the state because of it and roughed up Oliver pretty badly.

“I don’t know what to do.”

You hear him, you hear the things he wants to say and the things he doesn’t say out loud.

You feel so bad, so awful for him. He’s still a kid trying his hardest, doing his best.

Why can’t that be enough?

“It isn’t fair.” You respond.

His gaze turns to you.

“You do your best and when you think it’s over, the worst is still yet to come.”

Your fingers lightly touch the one of many bruises on his cheek, his eyes close at the contact.

“I can’t imagine how many times you’ve had pieces of you broken for us but it’s a sacrifice that unfortunately comes with the job.”

It hurt your heart, saying the second part.

Hard truths are a pill you’ll always find difficult to give.

He sharply inhales and the tears he tried so hard holding, come pouring down. Soft sobs and wails plague his throat.

His head falls atop your chest and his hands wrap around your middle, clinging to your shirt.

Your arms wrap around his shoulders and you do your best to ground him, to be his anchor.

His mental state is unimaginable, the thought of him slipping away has been a reoccurring nightmare for you but you push through. You have to.

“So many people died.”

The death toll worldwide was into the hundreds of thousands. That was the doing of the variants but Mark was inadvertently responsible, too.

It breaks your heart at how unfair this all is.

A Viltrumite’s personal vendetta against Mark resulted in such catastrophe.

Scott -also known as Powerplex- fried his only family left and somehow thinks that is also Mark’s fault.

As if the Chicago Incident wasn’t enough, there was almost a Chicago Incident Part 2 had it not been for Eve.

“You can’t blame yourself Angstrom’s doing.” You try to reason.

Mark shakes his head and gets up.

“I thought I killed him, but I should’ve been sure. I should’ve finished the job.”

Mark palms at his wet eyes, sniffling lightly as he calms down.

You don’t know what to do, you don’t know what to say.

You don’t want him to wallow in this pain by himself but you also don’t want to say something wrong.

“You should leave.” His cold tone and neutral face really sells it.

You’re confused. “What? I’m sorry, was it something I said? Or did?”

You’ve never seen him like this and are worried the wretched day you’ve been imagining is finally here.

“No. I just want you to go.”

You watch his fists bunch up the material of his joggers on his knees and the veins protruding from his hands.

“I…”

You want to say something, you want to stay for him but you can’t. You know it’d only make things worse.

So you just nod and whisper a meek, “Okay.”.

Mark still isn’t looking at you when you make your way to the door. His face still expressionless, calculated, distant.

Your fingers reach for the handle when you hear him.

“Y/n?”

It’s embarrassing how quick hope flashes in your eyes at the sound of him saying your name.

You try to suppress the obvious reaction as much as possible.

“Yeah?”

It still seeps through your voice but you’re human.

Your emotions are a part of you, even if they end up being a helping hand to your disappointment.

You don’t see the pool of guilt swirl around in his almost annoyed eyes but maybe it’s for the better.

He stares at you and feels bad but after everything that’s happened, is it worth keeping you in his life?

He wants to tell you so badly what’s making him push you away.

Sure, William is his best friend but you’re so much more. You’re a part of him, you’re his soulmate.

Mark wants nothing more than to see you happy but he ultimately decides that it’s nothing compared to seeing you alive.

“Can you close my door all the way?” He begrudgingly says.

The average person would blame him for pushing you away, him getting your hopes up only to crush them so inadvertently cruelly.

But you only chastise yourself.

You want him to know that despite people like Scott or Angstrom; who put the blame on wrong people for their circumstantial demise, there's people like you and Debbie.

He has a support system ready to recharge him but maybe you were overcharging him?

You go to sleep in tears, crying silently to yourself over how fucked life is.

Mark doesn't sleep the whole night, knowing he can hear your heart break.

It's been a slow week.

You don't talk to anyone or do things you used to; only getting up to go to class and eat, do some occasional grocery shopping.

You make an excuse for Amber and Eve when they text you to meet up and watch their caller ID's flash across your phone before it rings all the way through.

Mark hasn't spoken to you at all. No call, no text.

Despite him quitting school, you used to see him all the time on campus. Whether it be for you or William or Rick.

Now, you don't meet with anyone.

“She doesn't wanna talk to me or Amber anymore.” Eve voiced one day.

"Nor us." Rick pointed towards him and William.

“Something’s wrong. I'm worried about her.” Amber adds as she comes across the last message you sent in the group chat with her and Eve.

hey guys, just going through the flu rn. i’m fine tho! no worries :)

But of course they worried. They're your friends and that's what friends do.

Which is exactly what they said when they arrived at your doorstep, so you can't afford another excuse.

Your duo sits on your bed, trying to come up with a solution to best help you out.

“He’s closed off and maybe that was expected, but it's been a week.” Amber says.

“Yeah, you'd think he'd open up by now.”

You sigh pitifully and look out your window and down the street.

You’re a 10 minute drive and he’s a 1 minute flight away, yet nobody is willing to close that distance.

“It should be him, though.” Eve says.

“Hm?” You hum absentmindedly.

“Mark should be the one to come talk to you, not the other way around.”

Eve gauges for a reaction from you, one that will oppose her idea.

“Maybe you should go.” She switches up.

You look at Eve hesitantly, like it's a flop idea.

“You tried, Y/n. You did your part and he let you know but this isn’t the way things between you should end. Should he want it to end.”

It's like Amber knew what you were thinking and tried to dismiss the thought for you.

You weren't gonna lie and say that you haven't thought about blowing up his phone, driving to his house and banging on his door to open up to you.

But would he even want to? Would he even listen?

“It's not about what he wants, it's about what he needs.”

“And what he needs right now, is you.”

- MEANWHILE, WITH WILLIAM, RICK & REX -

“Come on, man. Don't be like this.” William tries.

Rick can see how much Mark is beating himself up over everything that’s happened.

With the fight against Liu’s dragon and Powerplex. And now recently, Conquest.

Mark never complained, it was the job. But you made getting back out on the field a bit easier.

“It's not worth losing her.” Rick gently reminds.

Mark's trio of lending hands have come to his service but it's unwanted, and Mark lets them know.

“Look, I don't need this. Especially not right now.”

This makes Rex mad.

“Oh you don’t need this? Well, excuseee me! We don’t need you to be so goddamn stupid, especially not right now.”

Mark narrows his eyes, visibly agitated. “Stupid? I’m being stupid?”

Rex widens his eyes, his pitch growing higher. “Yeah! That’s what I said.”

“Okay, I think we’re elevating the situation so let’s all just calm down.” William suggests nervously.

Mark has other thoughts as he rises from the bed. “And how exactly am I being stupid?”

Rex knows he shouldn’t be egging him on, he shouldn’t be encouraging his anger; but if this was the way to make his friend see his foolishness then so be it.

“By distancing yourself from the one woman who’s nice enough to let you, instead of manning up and telling her how you really feel.”

That stung.

“You don’t get to tell me how to handle my love life.”

Rex smirks lazily, a hardball on the tip of his tongue. “You don’t even have the balls to have one.”

“Rex.” William warns.

The cheeky bastard ignores him and continues on, a bit excited to see where this would all lead.

“I think she’d want a man who sees her, who doesn’t hurt her by ignoring her entire existence.”

Rick facepalms himself and wonders where the line between bravery and stupid was drawn.

Mark’s knuckles are white from how hard his fingers are curling in on themselves, his fists ready to pound into the explosive asshole.

Rex steps closer, now toe-to-toe with Mark and ignorantly unafraid. “I wouldn’t make her wait.”

Mark punches him right in the mouth, hard.

“Mark!” The yell of his friends fall on deaf ears.

Rex grunts as he stumbles back a bit, expecting this outcome.

“You don’t know her. You don’t know what’s good for her.” Mark spits bitterly.

Rex spits some blood out, sighing heavily. “You do.”

That makes Mark soften up.

He blinks like he’s snapped out of a trance. His fist wavers and is set down beside his thigh, a deep sigh exiting his nose. He looks at his friend and witnesses the ugly truth; his jealousy won.

“What am I doing?” He whispers.

Rex coughs lightly, the cut on his lip stinging.

“Talk to her, Mark. Don’t let her live with the regret of not knowing.”

Rick puts a sympathetic hand on his shoulder, hoping this will finally tip him over the edge.

Rex comes off the wall, slapping Mark’s back with a warm pat.

“I’m sorry, Rex. I shouldn’t have-”

He dismisses him with a wave. “Nah, I was being an asshole. An asshole on purpose, but still an asshole.”

Deep breath in, deep breath out.

You’re gathering the courage to mull over the most impactful relationship in your life.

Is there even a correct way to do that?

You don’t know, but what you do know is that you have to try.

You look yourself in the mirror and feel the weight of your younger self.

She’d be devastated. you think. If she were here in the flesh to see this, you don’t think she could withstand it.

A sharp knock to your door pulls you out of your head.

You’re not expecting anyone, and you’re unsure about the one person you did want to hear from.

Regardless, you walk over and open the door and your heart drops out of your ass. Not in fear, but in surprise.

“Mark.” You breathe.

Here he is; in the flesh and without the scowl you picture. In fact, he looks guilty.

His once glee-filled eyes are now empty of it, making you reminisce the time before last week.

“Can I come in?”

His voice resounding of forlorn hope. He expects you to deny him, to make him walk away with his hands held in a helpless prayer.

Instead, you show him mercy and welcome him inside your place of refuge.

Tentatively, he makes his way inside and awkwardly stands beside your desk.

You’re quiet, still trying to process his presence after an entire week of radio silence.

You don’t know how to feel. Should you be happy? Ecstatic? If anything, frustrated and hurt are also a great couple of options.

“Y/n?”

You look up at him and see his concerned face. “Hm?”

“I asked if we can talk.”

“Now you want to talk?” It came out before you could even think about it.

Your annoyance seeps through and he shuffles the weight on his feet a bit uncomfortably.

“I know-”

“No, you don’t.”

He looks at you like you just told him to kill himself.

“Y/n, please. Just hear me out.”

Your arms are crossed over your chest in a defensive position, he clocks that. He also notices the way you make eye contact with him throughout your sentences.

You were really hurt, he gathers.

He takes your silence as a sign to continue talking.

“After I left you at Paul’s, I went back out there and fought off the rest of those… variants. While I was fighting them, they told me about you.”

Your interest is absolutely peaked now.

“What do you mean?”

“They... they said that you existed in their world but-” He cuts himself off with a vexed sigh.

“But what, Mark.”

You want, need to know what was worth hurting you for days on end.

Mark looks at you and it's the most disheartened he's looked since that night he told you to leave.

“You died, Y/n.”

It all makes sense now. You grapple with the stomach-churning epiphany of the century.

The different Invincibles that wanted to take you was simply because you ceased to exist in their worlds.

“I... I died in every single universe.”

He takes some steps in your direction, not wanting to overwhelm you.

“You either died on accident by being murdered among civilians or you killed yourself.”

“Why would I commit suicide?”

He deeply inhales. “Because you'd rather die than join the other me.”

That sounds on brand.

“I couldn't live with myself knowing I'd lose you in this world, too.” He admits raspily.

That touches your heart.

You want to hug him, to comfort him but you're still kind of confused. You needed more answers.

“I was so scared, I had never felt fear like I did when I saw them with you.” He whispers.

“Why'd you tell me to leave?” You ask gently.

“Because I love you.”

His confession is so light, said with such helplessness, that you tear up.

Mark maintains eye contact with you, tired of hiding his true self. He wants you to see him.

“So many people have died because of me, it may not be directly my fault, but it still had to do with me.”

He comes a little closer, just a couple of steps away from touching you.

“What if I was too late that day? What if they managed to take you away?” He mutters in a hushed tone.

Mark shakes his head as if to get rid of those thoughts.

“If anything happens to you, it will be because of me.”

“So, you thought it was best to create such a large gap between us, that there'd be a sinking hole inside of me. Is that it?”

Your eyes well up against your will but you can't bring yourself to care. Not when he can finally see just how much you've been suffering.

“You think I wanted to do that?” He asks defensively.

You scoff indignantly. “I think you could've told me from the jump. That's what I think.”

You know it's a little unfair given how vulnerable he's being right now but he was unfair when you were vulnerable, too.

He shakes his head, eyes closing in on themselves as his tears threaten to fall. “I can't risk your life, Y/n! Why don't you understand that?”

You messily wipe your tears, your lashes wet and nose tinged with the lightest of reds.

“All this time, you didn't have a problem with how close we were. Now that you saw how close I was to something dangerous, it got too real for you?!”

He's in your space now, his chin set down and eyes on yours.

Contrary to how mad he looks, he relays his message in an low tone. “Yeah. It did.”

Your eyes widen a bit at the length he's cut between your bodies and you're back in time. You go back to the moment he almost kissed you.

“Don't push me away, Mark.”

You beg him and you don't care if you look pathetic. You love him and don't want to lose him like this.

Mark just presses his forehead against yours and shuts his eyes, he concentrates on you. Your smell, your hushed breaths, your heartbeat.

You feel his hands slide up and down your arms, grounding you.

Even when he's opening up to you, Mark still chooses to comfort you. He still wants to calm you down, to make you feel better. He still chooses to have your best interests at heart.

“I came here to tell you the truth, that you deserve better.”

You wordlessly deny his idea, shaking your head once.

He grabs ahold of your head, making you look at him.

You see it all, you see all of his pain, grief, anger.

“I love you but you're not safe with me.”

“You don't get to make my decision for me.” You stubbornly point out.

“Y/n-”

“I love you.” A shaky whisper snuck into the air between your lips.

His wide eyes stare back at yours in surprise.

“I've loved you for a long time and I don't wanna be in love with another.” You wrap your hands around his, feeling the warmth bloom onto your cold ones.

“Please. Please don't ask me to stay away from you.” You cry.

He kisses your head and brings you close, your head on his shoulder and slotting between his bicep and forearm. He curls his other arm around your waist and lays his head on yours.

“Okay, fine.” He fondly agrees. “You win so stop crying.”

“Fuck you.” You jab.

He airily laughs and brings your face close to his, pressing an equally feathery kiss to your lips.

You timidly kiss him, shying away a little to breathe but Mark wants you to take his breath if you must. He pulls you in, hands gripping your hips and pulling you flush against him, wanting to shape a new mold from your figures.

Your fingers nervously brush his hair and he groans at the contact.

You chuckle at the sound and he pulls away leaving a soft peck.

He's in a daze and has hearts in his eyes but he ultimately decides; he wouldn't want it any other way.

[dollishmehrayan]

HOW DIFFERENT BATBOYS APOLOGIZE AFTER A ARGUMENT ── .✦

a/n: Lowkey I feel like I’m like slightest but problematic in arguments (not me exposing myself) but srs I got this request by a anon! (Here) So yeah tysmm, I won’t be writing the argument because lowkey, I can’t do angst at this time 💔😞

(Tags: how different batboys apologize after a argument)

BRUCE WAYNE ── .✦

The "I'm Sorry, But…" Apology: Bruce’s apology might be a little stiff at first. He’s not great with words when it comes to his emotions, but he does know how to make up for things. His apology might start with something like, "I know I’m… difficult, but I didn’t mean to hurt you." The real comedy comes in when he tries to "fix" the situation by throwing money at it—like suggesting an extravagant dinner or buying you a new wardrobe because, "I know it will make you feel better."

Trying Too Hard to Be ‘Normal’: He might try to act like he’s “not Bruce Wayne” for a second, attempting to be goofy to show you he’s truly sorry. Picture Bruce awkwardly trying to make a joke: "I’m sorry I made you feel like I was ignoring you. How about we go out… without my bodyguards this time? You know, like a normal date?"

The Silent Apology: More often than not, Bruce will show you he’s sorry with actions, like preparing your favorite meal or doing something thoughtful (such as leaving you a handwritten note or taking care of something you've been stressing about). But if you press him for words, he might simply mutter, “I’m not good at this… but I am sorry,” and leave it at that.

DICK GRAYSON ── .✦

The Full-On “I’m Sorry, Please Forgive Me” Routine: Dick is extremely sorry whenever he’s messed up, and he knows how to make it entertaining. He’ll show up with flowers, chocolates, or maybe even your favorite ice cream. And then, with a totally sincere but dramatic flair, he’ll say something like, “Listen, I know I was an idiot, and I have no excuse except that I’m clearly emotionally stupid when I’m upset. So please, for the love of all things holy, let me make it up to you.”

Humorous Apologies: Dick might also make you laugh with his over-the-top apologies. Maybe he tries to outdo himself by setting up an elaborate “romantic” date, only for it to completely go awry (think spaghetti noodles flying everywhere or a very unromantic “romantic” location). He’ll laugh it off, saying, “Okay, so maybe that’s not exactly how I imagined it… but you have to admit, it’s unforgettable.”

The Super Dramatic ‘I’m Sorry’ Speech: After an argument, Dick is not shy about admitting when he’s wrong. He’ll deliver a heartfelt, exaggerated apology, something like, "I was a fool, and I see now that I was wrong. You are perfect, and I am definitely not. How do you put up with me?" Then, he might give you puppy-dog eyes, as if expecting you to immediately forgive him.

JASON TODD ── .✦

The “I Know I Messed Up, But… Here’s a Gift” Approach: Jason is quick to apologize, but it’s not usually with a heartfelt speech. Instead, he’ll show up with a gift—maybe something small but thoughtful, like your favorite snack or a new book he knows you’ve been eyeing. He’ll casually hand it to you and say, “Alright, alright, I messed up. But you know I’m not great at this, so here’s my attempt at being a decent human being.”

Comedic Self-Deprecation: Jason, knowing he’s not always the best communicator, might start with a little self-deprecating humor. "Look, I’m sorry, okay? You’re right, I am a jerk sometimes. But hey, at least I didn’t set anything on fire this time, right?" He’ll try to make you laugh with his inability to fully express himself, but you know he means it.

The “I’m Sorry, Now Let’s Get Back to Normal” Routine: Jason might awkwardly try to move past the argument, brushing it off with a gruff, "Look, I’m sorry for being a pain. Can we just… go back to how things were?" It's not the most eloquent apology, but it’s Jason, and it’s his way of saying he wants to make things right without diving too deep into feelings.

TIM DRAKE ── .✦

The "I Overthought This" Apology: Tim is a perfectionist, so when he messes up, he’ll overthink how to apologize. He’ll probably try to do something really thoughtful, like writing you a letter or planning a whole day dedicated to making it up to you. But the real comedy comes when he gets so wrapped up in planning that he’s awkward about it. "I, uh, made you a list of everything I could do to make it up to you, starting with… well, taking you out for dinner. You like sushi, right? But if you prefer something else, I can also—"

The "What Do You Need?" Routine: Tim might also take a very logical approach. He’ll ask, "What would you like me to do to fix this?" but in a way that makes it seem like he’s creating a spreadsheet of ways to apologize. "I’ve compiled some options for you to choose from. Option one: Dinner. Option two: A walk in the park. Option three: Let me do your laundry for the next week…”

The 'Nervous, Over-Apologetic' Tim: Tim is likely to be the one who apologizes over and over again. He’ll say “I’m sorry” about a dozen times in a single conversation, with increasing levels of anxiety. "I really didn’t mean it that way. I’m so sorry. Are we okay? You don’t seem mad, but if you are, I understand, and I’m really, really sorry."

DAMIAN WAYNE ── .✦

The Reluctant Apology: Damian isn’t one to apologize easily, and when he does, it’s more formal. He might say something like, “I apologize for my behavior. It was uncalled for.” And then he’ll awkwardly pause, before adding, "I... didn’t mean to upset you." The comedic part comes when he clearly doesn’t understand how he’s hurt you. He might ask, “Is there anything I can do to make it right? Or… was this just another one of your moods?”

The Unintentional "Nice Guy" Apology: Damian will give you something as an apology—perhaps a bouquet of flowers or something that he “found interesting,” but he’ll likely be very stiff about it, saying something like, “This is for you. I thought you would appreciate it. It’s… an apology gift.” He’ll be surprised when you react positively, since he’s convinced that you’ll just think it’s lame

A Small Gesture of Remorse: As an apology, Damian might ask you to join him for a quiet walk or for tea, giving you a rare moment of sincerity. He might even throw in a joke (but it’ll be one of those very dry ones), saying, “The tea will be of the highest quality, so I suppose that should count for something."

[hiraizyo]

i’m not here, even though you see me

pairing: kim minjeong x female reader

synopsis — minjeong has been your savior time and time again, no matter the pain it brings both you and her. but she’d do it all for you, even if it felt like she was burning herself alive.

tags — angst, hurt no comfort, mature language, implied drug abuse, nonceleb!au

now playing: it’s all my fault, take care

a/n: sooo another attempt at writing angst 😞 minjeong my baby :( i’m sorry y’all, kinda wanted to try experimenting with different topics ??? short cause i just did this as a writing exercise

the lock of the door clicked as minjeong turned the key in its hole, the sound echoing as she pushed the door open timidly. she had used the spare key you’d given her a couple years ago, closing the door behind her once she was inside.

your apartment was dark and eerily quiet. minjeong treaded with caution as she called out your name, but there was no reply. she glanced around the apartment, and she would’ve thought the place was abandoned had it not been for the messy state of the kitchen as she passed by.

minjeong’s heart heavily thumped in her chest, knowing you and her had been down this road before.

she stepped forward again, slow and hesitant.

“yn?” she called once again, her hand clutching the key tight in a fist. there was a shuffle sound coming from the sitting area, then a loud crash, as if something had been dropped.

hastily, minjeong strode over to where the sound had come from, finding you with your back facing her and hunched over a fallen cabinet. your body moved about in a frenzy, unaware of the girl.

“hey,” her voice was light. “yn, can we talk?”

you didn’t bother to face her, responding in a rough manner. “what are you doing here?” your hands filtered through the draws of another cabinet. they were desperate, urgent.

the blonde sighed, watching you. she knew it then, you’d relapsed. she didn’t want to believe it, not after how far you’d come, not after how the last time she nearly lost you.

minjeong pocketed the keys so her hands were free and took two steps forward. “aeri called me. she said— she said you’d been using again.”

even saying the words left a bitter taste in her mouth. how could you?

you froze at her words, momentarily stopping your search. glancing over your shoulder, you noticed minjeong’s timid behavior.

it wasn’t uncommon for her to come looking for you, especially in times like this. it wasn’t the first, and it definitely wasn’t the second. you’d been here before, whether it was coming down from a high, or being plagued by the withdrawal symptoms — minjeong was by your side.

you faced her, eyes hard. “aeri needs to learn to keep her mouth shut.”

minjeong sighed again and walked closer until she was a few feet away, her eyebrows knitting together. “she’s just worried for you.”

and frankly, she was too.

you rolled your eyes and attempted to walk past her, wanting to make your way to the bathroom. minjeong gripped onto your arm, her touch feeling like a fire on your skin.

minjeong didn’t want this to be true. still, she at least hoped you’d admit it to her.

“hey.” she said lowly, “are you?”

she didn’t have to ask the full question for you to understand.

you glared at her, narrowing your eyes, feeling like you were being observed under a microscope. it left an itch on your skin. her tone was far from accusatory, but you were on edge.

“no, i’m not. fuck— why would you even ask me that?” you fumed, looking at her in scrutiny.

minjeong wanted to believe you, she really did, but your pupils were small, the shirt you wore hung baggy on you as if you’d had a sudden drop in weight. there were bags under your eyes too, a clear sign that you hadn’t been sleeping. your hair was messy, tied in a loose ponytail with the front strands falling out of place.

what really caught her attention though was the look of desperation in your eyes, as if you were scouring — feening for your fix. minjeong thought perhaps that was what you’d been searching for when she walked in.

the korean softened her gaze, “don’t lie to me.”

“i’m not lying.” you stressed, leveling your eyes with her. minjeong didn’t look convinced, and it angered you. “you believe your friend over me?”

she shook her head, pleading for you to be honest with. “i don’t— that’s not..” minjeong swallowed hard, “be honest with me, yn. please.”

minjeong’s distress clawed at your heart, but you didn’t owe her an explanation, nor did you owe her the truth. the very fact that she’d come here over aeri’s assumptions had you feeling like you couldn’t be trusted. you were angry at her, but mostly at yourself, for all your hard work to get sober was fruitless. that frustration came out in the worst way, taking it out on the girl before you.

you harshly pulled your arm away, “go fuck yourself.”

minjeong’s eyes widened, her hand falling. she turned quickly to watch as you stomped into the bathroom and shut the door behind you. her body flinched at the loud noise, but she calmed her racing heart, following in your direction.

she wiggled the doorknob to find it locked. minjeong knocked once, lightly, with caution. there was no answer.

the second time she knocked, it was louder and had more force to it. she attempted to listened through the door — for what, she wasn’t sure, but minjeong could hear muffled sounds of your footsteps and the bathroom cabinet opening.

“can you open the door?”

you shut your eyes, angrily yelling. “leave me the fuck alone, minjeong!”

minjeong dropped her head against the door. she mumbled quietly, but you’d still heard it through the wooden surface. “when have i ever left you?”

the girl was right, there had never been a time where she has ever left you.

minjeong was devoted, determined, to help, even when you treated like she was meaningless to you. she’d come back, her faith in you unwavering. she was strong, and you only wished that you could find such strength in yourself.

your hands gripped the sink, knuckles turning white. “you should,” you replied, giving up on searching for what you craved. the cabinet was empty, you’d forgotten minjeong had cleared it out months ago. “you’d be better off.”

“don’t say that.” minjeong shook her head furiously, “please, just open the door.”

her voice croaked, tears filling up in her eyes.

the silence was deafening as minjeong slide down until she sank onto the floor. the side of her body leaned against the door as she waited until you were ready, until you’d finally come to your senses.

inside the bathroom, you looked up at yourself in the mirror, and what you saw, was a poor excuse of a human being.

you felt pathetic.

this wasn’t fair to minjeong, you knew that. this was hurting her, every time you’d crash at her place sleeping off a high, every time she’d find you passed out in your room, every time she’d come running to you over a relapse, she was there. always.

you and minjeong were sort of like parallel lines; always together but never meant to touch, never meant to be as one. it just wouldn’t work.

similarly, you were more than friends, but less than lovers. minjeong was someone you needed in your life, as did she. you grew together, weaving through life as just you and her.

you had a language only the two of you spoke, a language of understanding — you loved her, and she loved you.

but it would never be enough.

at least, not in this lifetime.

you continue to stare at your reflection, the bags underneath your eyes, and the way they sunk in. you felt sick to your stomach.

this was who minjeong was fighting for?

not being able to bare the sight of yourself any longer, you sauntered over to the door. you hand hovered over the doorknob, contemplating if you should open it, but you couldn’t — wouldn’t — let minjeong see you like this again.

you fell to the floor, a thud heard on the door as you lay your head against it. minjeong jumped at the sound, alarmed, about to get up, but then she heard your voice.

“jeongie…” you rasped out, palm against the wooden door. “i don’t want to do this anymore.”

minjeong’s body filled with terror. she pushed again, trying to coax you. “open the door.”

you laughed, though your chest felt hollow. tears flowed down your face uncontrollably, and you laughed harder, but it wasn’t long before it turned into a gut wrenching sob.

minjeong hit at the door, the sound reverberating against your ear. she stood up, wiggling the doorknob again, a burning feeling in her chest. she gasped out, her own tears falling.

the door didn’t opened, at least not until a few moments later.

what minjeong found was you, on the floor, sobbing in hysteria. she wasn’t sure if you were laughing or crying, but she could tell, this was your breaking point.

“do you.. do you think,” you sniffled, looking up at the blonde from the floor. “if things were different we — i — would be better?”

minjeong shushed you, and took you in her arms. she cradled your body, holding you tight, afraid to let go. your tears wet her t-shirt, but she didn’t care, all she wanted was for you to be better. her hand ran through your hair as she mumbled words against your ear.

your heart ached, minjeong’s did too.

they beat together in rhythm, slow, steady, like they were one.

(but it would never be enough.)

anyways…. i’ll post some fluff next :3

[arvlelt]

505

pairing - vi x fem!reader

cw - inspired by 505 from arctic monkeys, angst, hurt/no comfort, modern!au, both of them smoke, oblivious vi, reader is a little ho fair warning, one-sided pining, etc.

summary - time and time again, seeing your name flash on her phone at 2 in the morning again — she should’ve known it wasn’t going to end differently.

a/n - kinda/very short, there isn’t enough vi angst 😞 lil drabble containing my own interpretation while listening to the song and lyrics, enjoy!

vi tossed and turned, sighing in frustration as she squeezed her eyes shut in her final attempt to try and sleep.

she hadn't been able to sleep since you had suddenly cut off all contact with vi. sure, she was just a casual sex partner - and going into it you both had agreed not to get attached.

at least you did.

she remembered that day like it was yesterday. the day she agreed to keep it casual with you two - god she should’ve never said yes if it was gonna end up like this.

she couldn't help remembering everything about you. her imagination envisioning you lyin' on your side, with a hand between your thighs.

she remembers the way you used to give her a certain look while looking over her shoulder that had her confessing to you, 'well when you look at me like that, princess, what do you expect?

those were the last words she said to you before she never saw you again.

she sighed with her eyes closed, remembering how you’d let out a content sigh when she practically jumped on you, putting a hand on her forehead as she remembered the way you'd put your hands around her neck. wondering if she'd still like adore you - though she did last time she checked.

she didn't give it much time as she opened her eyes with a groan. she got up and didn’t shy away from the spark of her lighter as she lit up a joint in hopes of it aiding her to sleep.

suddenly her phone rang.

vi hummed to the beat in the car on the way to your house.

she knew better than to get excited to see you, to get attached to you, but she couldn't stop the way her body was beginning to feel all jittery from the nerves.

she gets a knife twisting feeling at the thought that she shouldn’t fall short of the mark -- meaning she shouldn't expect anything more and anything less.

she’s frightened slightly, hoping you don’t have much bite and more bark — hoping you try and talk with her and don’t just have her over for sex.

maybe she'd be a fool to think otherwise, but she had a soft spot for you. she'd drop anything she was doing to go and help you with whatever you needed.

she shook her head as she got off the highway, trying to think off better things in the middle of adventure of hers.

you had called her late at night again, crying.

and she crumbles completely when you cry.

though she's hoping this time you don't greet her with a goodbye and inevitably turn her away because of regret.

if she wasn't dreaming again, she was sure to not take her hands off your eyes too soon.

she just wanted to go back to how it was before, she was hoping she could convince you to let her into your life again, even if it was just for sex.

vi's throat felt dry and her hands were trembling as she opened the door to your house, looking around and not seeing any sign of you.

you had given her a spare key when you two were closer, she didn't think she was gonna have any use for it ever again.

she shut the door quietly, swallowing hard as she made her way to your bedroom - the sound of her shoes moving along your floor deafening to her.

it was too quiet.

and she was hoping it wasn't the reason she thought.

oh but remember, she'd be fool to think otherwise.

she creaked your door open as it was open slightly and it wasn't shut all the way - she could make out your form on the mattress.

and just like she had dreamt and predicated, your back was facing her and --

you were lyin' on your side, with your arms between your thighs and a smile.

[luv-mani3]

Warnings: •none to be concerned about •fluff •also angst (it’s literally a small but promise😋)

Summary; Miguel Ohara thinks he might be in love

Miguel Ohara hasn’t felt anything in a long while.

Not since the death of his beloved daughter, not since the downfall of the one universe he could be happy in.

His heart was empty, going along with the motions of life. Being responsible for an entire multiverse and spider society was exhausting, but at least it was a small distraction.

He’d overwork himself to the bone, just to get rid of that horrible achy feeling in his chest. Still it was never enough. His mind couldn’t help but draw him back to that awful memory.

And the memories before it. Of his precious daughters laugh, her bright smile as he carried her on his shoulders.

Those little moments, where they would get ice cream or play at the park.

He’d cry himself to sleep those first few nights. The pain of her loss hurt him, and her memory made it even worse. Eventually he stopped feeling anything, only cringing slightly when he saw even a glimpse of his past. Yea, it hurt, but life goes on, right?

He had a whole operation to run, people to take care of and save. He’s never make that same mistake again.

He’d never let anyone get to close.

Until you.

You with your bright smiles and far to overjoyed personality.

With your chipper good mornings and your even more obnoxious goodbyes. He couldn’t get you out of his head.

You’d smile at him anytime he was near, and he couldn’t understand why. He made no move to acknowledge you, not even an attempt to get to know you.

And yet he knew everything.

He knew you preferred tea over coffee.

He knew you hated working on an empty stomach.

And he knew you just loved to talk. He swears his ear would have fallen off, your constant and endless rambling about literally nothing and everything all at once.

You’d skip into his office unannounced, and just start yapping.

At first he hated it.

Why would you bother him, of all people?? Did you not know he was the fearless leader of the spider society??? Protecter of the arachno humanoid poly multiverse????!!!!

But then he got used to it. Enjoyed it over time actually. (He would never admit that).

He’d come to look forward to your little “discussions”. Random topics anywhere between how many more spider people were really out there to why his face was on the burger in the cafeteria.

These moments, they reminded him of a happier time.

He chased that feeling, and he chased you, figuratively, until he realized; holy shot I have a crush!

Well, Peter not so discreetly pointed it out.

And Miguel couldn’t get the stupid idea out his head. He started noticing the small things he did for you, the special treatment he gave you and only you.

He tried to limit his contact with you, until you came to him puppy eyed and sad, asking what you did wrong.

Hw tried putting himself on more missions, but that just drew you closer, fusing at him about being careful and not putting to much pressure on him.

After another short while he realized he was falling in love. (This one he figured out all by himself aren’t you proud🥹?) and he hates but likes it all at the same time?? You were good for him, he knew. But he refused to. Refused to get near you only for you to be taken away from him.

He knew you were stubborn. Knew you’d try to help him, get him to break down bak walls

Eventually he did, little by little. And fuck himself if he didn’t love it.

*I know I know😞 preg reader x Miguel is coming, I just had to write this down before I forgot. You’ll get your smut and fluff loves don’t worry🫶🏽🎀

[nohoney]

k… sweetness I am in the heaviest mood for angst could u pretty pretty please write some for us 😞

angst for u darling╰(● ⋏ ●)╯

“Fuck you! Why won’t you listen to me?! I’m here, crying, and all you do is just roll your eyes at me!” You shout at him, replaying another bad fight that’s been happening too often in the past few months. His reactions have been the same lately. The impatience, the annoyance, the flippant answers he gives that only make everything worse.

Maybe you are too sensitive, maybe you ask for too much, maybe you could be more understanding of his side. But how much more understanding do you have to give your own boyfriend before he finally at least gives you some fraction of empathy that you need.

“All you ever do is cry! You find some reason to flip out on me and I have to gather you up and put you back together again! It’s exhausting!” your own boyfriend tells you.

He’s always been a little angry, always had a little bit of attitude, and he’d always snap first before he calmed down. There used to be a time that Bakugou would at least attempt to reconcile. He tried in the beginning. A part of you blames yourself, that perhaps all your neediness wore him down and he was fed up.

He was the one telling you in the beginning to always tell him what was on your mind. Now it seemed that when you finally did, there was nothing but resentment. You had gotten to used to seeing him angry at you, his red eyes glaring and his mouth set in a frown.

“You realize that you’re making a big deal of nothing right? You upset yourself and take it out on me!” Bakugou shouts, “I’m not a punching bag for when you feel like shit and I’m tired of your shitty reasons to start fights!”

Are they shitty? Are you making a big deal out of nothing again? Why is it if it’s nothing to him then it should be nothing to you? Is it so bad that you don’t like when he leaves during a fight? Is it awful that when he asks for space you blow up his phone demanding he answer you? Is it so bad that you get so angry you throw glasses against the wall because otherwise you’d punch your own mirror?

All these feelings well up and they go out of control. How many broken promises have you made to swear that you wouldn’t blow up again? Too many to count and here you were failing him again.

You say the same words whenever this happens and Bakugou sees it coming.

“You treat my feelings like they’re an inconvenience!” You tell him. You don’t feel seen or heard by him. Bakugou used to tell you that he’d rather you be honest about how you feel rather than keep quiet to keep the peace.

The routine is supposed to be that he rolls his eyes again, sits on the chair and argues a little more until you break down in more tears. He supposed to stop once you start bawling and he plays clean up. He only acknowledges afterwards that he should listen to you and he’s sorry that he’s stubborn and he’ll beg you to just calm down and swear that he’ll listen this second time.

“Just shut the fuck up!!”

And the world around you stops. The usual routine of a fight is thrown off instead of more crying, you’re stunned silent as you look at him. Bakugou has been disrespectful of your feelings before and vice versa there were times you didn’t respect his time to speak.

Never though had he ever spoken so harshly to you like this.

It worked though; you stopped crying. A part of you shrivels up inside and now you want to curl up in a ball and just hide away from the world. His hands touch your shoulders and he calls your name, trying to take back the awful words he shouted at you. “Baby, baby I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have yelled at you like that. Please, don’t push me away! Baby-“ he’s pleading, not trying to be forceful on you but you shake off his touch.

Bakugou would always hug you after a fight, even if he was still angry at you and was still working off the residual. When he tries to pull you into that hug, for once you shrug out of his hold. You opt to lean against the wall for support. Lightheadedness creeps in and you feel a bit dizzy and your only goal is to make it to bed.

You don’t know what else to do except sleep away the numbness.

His words repeat over and over.

“Babe, I’m sorry! I shouldn’t have said that!” Bakugou is frantic behind you, unsure how to handle the sudden fragility that he’s brought on you. Screaming and screaming until you cry and make up is the only thing he knows. “Please, look at me! Don’t—babe, wait! It’s fucking three in the afternoon, why are you going in bed? We’ll talk, okay! I’ll listen!”

Suddenly you’re so tired, crawling underneath the quilt without even changing out of your indoor clothes into your comfy lounge shirt and shorts. Curling up, you face away from him. Away from his side of the bed and his pillow.

And Bakugou stands helpless, his apologies meaning nothing and wishing that you would at least curse him out like you did before.

[enkkida]

SCENT OF YOU - &TEAM

pairing: university students - lee heeseung x fem!oc (sim chaehyang)

synopsis: TBC,, i am yet to have set a plot or story😞😞 currently this is just a mixture of different small storylines and ideas but ill sort it out eventually!

feat. sim jaeyun, nishimura riki, vague mentions of the other 4 members

genres/tropes: best friend’s cousin, strangers to friends, ?frenemies to lovers, fluff, angst, ?humour, ?mild jealousy

warnings: bullying mentions, violent imagery of bullying/assault, seizure mentions

status: ongoing,, severely unplanned and set to deleted and re uploaded way too many times

current wc: 790

author’s notes: all constructive or even aggressive criticism will be taken into account, so i beg for any type of advice whatsoever💔

——————————————————————

once heeseung spots his best friend, jaeyun, he lazily drifts over to their assigned-unassigned seats at the back of the lecture hall. everyone who goes to yonsei university and has been in heeseung and jaeyun’s class of 2025 knows to avoid them, but the reason remains indistinct.

the baleful pair have been ever in tandem since their primary school days - where they collectively, alongside 5 other tyrannical boys, engaged in their close-to-daily tormenting of other students, which only ended with a teacher’s view of their behaviour as ‘simple teasing’ to build the development of the characters of their victimized peers.

jaeyun and heeseung only started to cease their tyranny once another boy in their clique, ni-ki, was expelled for his lone bullying of a girl in their mutual class. his prolonged oppression of the 7 year old ended on one pivotal day towards the end of year 2, whereby his reckless actions gave rise to a seizure; a result of the trauma yielded onto her excessively vulnerable skull by a polluted and blood-stained brick in ni-ki’s hand. the disquieting actions of the remorseless young boy repulsed adolescent dyad, so much so that they forbade themselves and each other from partaking in not only their bullying, but also their association with the despotic coterie.

close to 12 years later, heeseung and jaeyun seldom reminisce on their past actions - one, because of how it repelled the pair from interactions with peers in the schools they attended during and after primary school and two, because they fortunately can hardly remember the scene.

heeseung idly and rather aggressively threw his bag into the space under the table where jaeyun sat unaccompanied until the arrival of his best friend. silence chaperoned heeseung’s advent, though it had never been tense or uneasy. the dyad simply basked in each other’s comfort with one another in utter silence - a silence interrupted by heeseung’s economics professor’s incessant scolding, to which the arrogant boy chose to completely and inconsiderately ignore as he perched on his chair next to jaeyun.

exhausted, heeseung throws his arms onto the table in front of him as a means to cushion the weary head falling into the space between his bent forearms and padded lower biceps. the air conditioner blows lightly on his strained nape, relaxing him after a hurried morning routine due to his own tardiness, as he attempts to drift into a light sleep for the next, at least, 20 minutes.

close to 10 minutes after heeseung’s mildly abhorred arrival, the door to the small lecture theatre clicks open and creaks lowly, forcing the professor to temporarily pause his introduction to economics for their final year of university. the click of heeseung’s tongue at the disappointment of double standards proved by the professor with his lack of a berating for the student (who’s later than heeseung himself) gets muffled by the insulating fabrics of his thick sweatshirt.

the dark-haired youth tensed his knees at the blinded sensing of the student’s faint and calm footsteps entering his earshot and growing in volume as they walked behind his chair, increasing speed so as to not cause unnecessary awkwardness between themselves, heeseung and jaeyun. what is that? heeseung’s heavy lidded eyes shoot open with his head still in his arms.

sweet feminine aromas of honey and amber infiltrate his nasal senses, then flowing throughout his stiffening body and feeble mind to dominate the rest of his perception. the scent only grows stronger the more he tries to forget it. the overwhelming scents of caramelised vanilla and toasted macadamia nuts make his mouth water and make him account for his lack of a meal before attending class. heeseung racks his brain for a brand or sample of any perfume he’s smelt like this before but his attempts are all in ultimate vain. no scent of his mothers, sisters, or even friends have ever made his muscles harden and cheeks faintly blush the way this one casually has.

heeseung swiftly lifts his head and turns his head to face the back of the girl walking past, his stretched neck burning at the sudden movement. his widening eyes watch her subtly styled hair sway in the thin gusts of the air conditioner, before placing his head back down into his arms, almost missing the scent overwhelming his senses. jaeyun spots his best friend's sudden motions in his peripherals and probes at heeseung’s curiosity.

“hey, eyes off my cousin, bastard.”

his playful tone goes unreciprocated by heeseung through his lack of a response - which is mainly due to his utter shock at the relation put before him, but he would never accept that and the fact that the perfume of a stranger would catch him so off guard.

[meaningofaeons]

I know you must be pretty busy right now considering that you probably have a lot of requests but do you mind writing hanahaki disease au with Gepard and Sampo (separately)? Mb Natasha too if you write for her but that's completely optional! I'm just a sucker for pining 😞 They know reader for a long time but for some reason never made a move (well maybe Sampo did but reader thought he was just being his usual flirty self) but then reader got closer to someone else and they misunderstood and got jealous and the whole hanahaki thing happened

Thank you!

-ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈ blooming regrets

⊹ character(s) - gepard landau, sampo koski ⊹ word count - 1.6k ⊹ notes - gn!reader, hanahaki disease (character is diseased, not reader)/mentioned gore, angst just angst I'm sorry, a bit open-ended

hi anon! thanks for the req!! unfortunately I do not write for natasha but I'm happy to do the req for sampo and gepard (=^･ω･^=) I debated between ending this with angst or hurt/comfort but since you didn't specify I went for pure (but a Little open-ended?) angst hoohoo.. sorry it's kinda short ;w; ty again!!

⊹ Gepard Landau

His cough really wasn't a big deal.

He assured his fellow Silvermane Guards, his sister, even the newly-appointed Supreme Guardian Bronya Rand near-daily.

It was a cold. Just got something stuck in his throat. Ah, he just had a drink of water, and it went down the wrong pipe.

The Captain of the Silvermane Guards cannot afford to be unwell, not for a second. If he had a fever, he'd push past it. If he got a headache, he'd keep his focus on the job at hand and ignore his pain. No matter what it was, it wouldn't put him down, and this cough, while persistent, was no exception.

The excuses worked at first, but not for long.

And they certainly didn't work on you.

"I might not know the Supreme Guardian, but surely she's going to listen if I beg for you to be given a break. Ever since the Astral Express crew left, the Fragmentum has receded more than before. Surely you can—"

"Y/N, I told you, it's just a minor cold. I'm fine. Just fine."

You raised a brow.

"This cough has only gotten worse since you first had it, Gepard! That's no simple cold. If you really want me to stop bothering you, at least go to the doctor and get yourself checked out."

In an attempt to appease you, the man had agreed, finding himself trudging to the one place he wanted to avoid.

If the doctor diagnosed him, then it became real that he had some sort of illness, and that would only be a hindrance. Not only to his duties, but to you...

Still, if going to be examined would make you happy... he'd do it.

The man would do anything for you.

And it seems that this was the problem all along.

"M-Mr. Landau..." the physician reentered the room after a short moment to look over his tests, anxiously fiddling with the paperwork. Well, that wasn't a good sign.

"It's okay, I can take it," Gepard answered confidently, folding his hands as he stifled another cough. "Any treatment is fine, as long as I can get back to work as soon as possible."

The physician's face crumbled, and the Captain felt his pulse run cold.

Was it... worse than he thought?

"I'm... I'm terribly sorry, sir. I'm afraid this is not something you may want treated."

What does that even mean?

"Of course I do! Just..." Gepard calmed himself, slumping onto the examination bed again. "Just let me know what it is."

"Sir... you have contracted an incredibly rare disease. With the onset of the Eternal Freeze and the extinction of many botanical-related illnesses and plants, many medical experts considered it impossible for this disease to return, and many wrote it off as gone for good. But..."

He turned a paper containing an x-ray of the Captain's chest.

A small root dug its way up inside his lung, and the blonde froze.

"It's called Hanahaki... and it originates from love. Unrequited love. And the only cure, I fear, is... to have your love for the one that afflicted this removed for good."

—

Against all odds, Gepard had taken the time off that he desperately needed.

Though Supreme Guardian Bronya was shocked at first by his submission to the advice of everyone around him, she could not bring herself to question the man when he coughed again—seeing that crimson red sprout up that he desperately tried to hide.

Knowledge that hanahaki was still in existence would bring panic to the masses. Gepard knew this. He kept himself hidden, out of sight. Not even to see you did he leave his home.

After all, even that simple action alone would hasten his disease.

He still had a duty. He told himself that over and over, slamming it into his mind. The surgery to remove the roots was all but essential.

Gazing out of the Landau home's window, seeing you walking down the street with a smile on his face... his heart panged, though.

He couldn't do it.

Loving you was painful, but the thought of losing that emotion towards you wrought even further pain upon him.

It was then that he saw a stranger at your side. Well, not quite—he'd seen them around with you before, talking to you, laughing with you, taking your hand as they led you around town.

Just as they did in that moment.

An uncomfortable feeling rose in Gepard's throat, and he began hacking into his hand once again, collapsing as he clutched the windowsill for stability.

A small, blood-soaked periwinkle fell right into his waiting hand.

Yet somehow, it felt as though his chest hurt for reasons far deeper than the flowers taking hold of his lungs with each passing moment.

⊹ Sampo Koski

Sampo wasn't one to instill concern in anyone.

Even for those who genuinely cared for him, though they were few and far between, it was always the same thought.

"It's Sampo. What could possibly happen to him?"

Of course, there's always the joking thought that one day, all his disgruntled customers and scammed victims will come back to wreak vengeance. But really, this happened every other week.

And Sampo was always fine.

So, when he sat in front of a very distraught Natasha, something felt terribly, horribly wrong.

"H-Heyyy, Nat! Come on, now, you can tell Sampo all the details of this little cough!" he chuckled, though it was punctuated by said hacking. "It can't be too bad, eh?"

Usually, his joking would elicit even just a small chuckle from the woman. But she nearly trembled when picking up her notes, rereading them over and over as though to confirm the information she already knew.

"Sampo..." she murmured. "Is there... someone you love?"

Though he could crack another jest, ask if Miss Natasha of all people was coming onto him, he saw the look in her eye, and swallowed another choke.

"Erm..."

Of course, in spite of his hesitation in speech, his mind had none at all.

Your face came to mind at once, bright, smiling, overjoyed. The way your brow would pull when he got into a scuffle and came to you all banged up, or the way you'd laugh at his latest scheme to trick some no-good vagrants into a 'package deal' scam.

Your energy, your voice, your touch. Everything flooded into his senses, and he smiled despite himself, despite the situation.

"Well..."

"If you're thinking of lying, save it," Natasha managed a strained laugh. "I think we both know from that silly grin that you have someone in mind. And I know... I think I know exactly who it is."

"But what've they got to do with my 'lil cold? Don't tell me... My only cure is to have my beloved Y/N nurse me back to health?!" Sampo clasped his hands together, making goo-goo eyes at Natasha.

He had assumed the mood to be lightened, but her eyes only darkened again.

"Sampo... this disease... it's—"

Her prognosis was punctuated by another cough from the conman—this time wet, uncomfortable, as blood trickled down the corner of his mouth. He was about to continue her sentence for her to throw in a joke, to reassure him that he was used to such minor amounts of blood, when something rose up his throat and into his mouth, cutting off his words.

Loosening his jaw, a purple and pink hyacinth landed right in his palm. Natasha was so pale, she might as well have been a ghost.

"What's..."

For once in his life, even the Sampo Koski was stumped.

"Hanahaki..." Natasha whispered, covering her mouth.

"What?!" Sampo's head snapped up, flicking between the doctor and the flower. "That's... That's a myth that kids get told so they confess their feelings quicker, so they don't chicken out. C-Come on, Miss Nat, that's not—"

She shook her head, and Sampo paused, staring at the flower.

"I've gotta clear my head."

"Sampo!"

The conman was to his feet in an instant, speed-walking out of the clinic faster than he ever thought his legs could take him. He didn't really know where he needed to go, but he knew he had to see you.

Seeing your face would put that warm, fuzzy, butterfly-like feeling right back in his chest. It would replace all this pain crawling into his lungs, his throat, not worsen it.

But when he saw you approach with your friend in tow, it felt like his chest had been stabbed straight through.

"Sampo! I heard you saw Nat today. You okay?"

"Y-Yeah!" Sampo was quick on the uptake, hiding the flower and swiping a hand over his mouth swiftly in case of any leftover blood. "You know me, just'a coupl'a bangs and scrapes from the latest 'customer'. You know how it is for ol' Sampo!"

You chuckled lightly.

"Well, that's good. Just don't go scamming any good people now, huh?" Your friend tugged your arm, giving Sampo an apologetic smile—something that dug up an even more foreign emotion within him. "Ah, right. I'm sorry, Sampo, we have plans today. But let's spend some time at the Great Mine some other time, huh?"

"No problemo! Sampo never skimps out on plans, and he never leaves a friend hanging! I'll see you then, Y/N."

You left with one last laugh and a smile.

Sampo's own smile slowly fell the moment you vanished from view... and he stared at the pink-and-purple hyacinth in his hand.

He recalled what they meant when Natasha had told him once, explaining all the intricacies of flower language if he were to ever give a 'special someone' a bouquet one day...

Joy, fresh starts, new love... But the purple?

That could only mean regret.

The conman threw the flower to the ground and stalked away, but not before trampling the bud.

As if he could ever regret something like loving you.

[manebioniclegali]

for the writer ask game! 💖, 🎉, 🤯?

Writer ask game!

💖 What made you start writing?

The long and short of it is me, myself, and I; same with drawing, I wanted to be able to see my ideas come to life, and get personal satisfaction out of finishing a story. The oldest fanfic I wrote was from first grade lol, and anytime there was an opportunity to write a story for a school assignment, I went above and beyond. I did write plenty for myself, between first grade and when I started uploading stories online.

I started posting bc I saw people posting MLP fanfic on a specific site, and I was like "I wanna do that!" and I had just officially fallen into MLP G4 in 8th grade, so I had some ideas and wrote them and posted them, and I enjoyed getting feedback, so I kept writing and kept posting. That site was great for that, bc people would largely give constructive criticism, and it was SO easy to find someone to edit your stuff....posting on Tumblr and especially AO3 just doesn't hold a candle to the way that environment was. I moved over to Tumblr bc 1) didn't know AO3 existed, and 2) that's largely where the Markiplier fandom is. At least Tumblr you know that people are sharing your work by reblogging (sometimes); the website had a featured box and a popular box and groups that you could put your stories in and get exposure! I don't really have ideas for MLP anymore, hence why I'm not really on there as of late :(

🎉 What leads you to consider a fic a success?

It depends, really. Comments and reblogs are a huge part of it, and if every reblog I received had someone making a comment about the fic, I'd be thrilled (although that's not always the case). The number of notes are a factor (80-100 I'll consider it successful), but it's hard sometimes when most of those are just likes. 😞 I'm still deeply appreciative of all the interactions, but having 50 likes but no reblogs makes you wonder if you've done something wrong that nobody wants to share it. :(

The other side to this is that if I wrote something specifically to "target" another person, or it involves referring to lore I participate in, then as long as that person/those people see it and react and I get to interact with them about it, then it'll be worth it, even if the fic doesn't break like 20 (the only piece of writing I did for Egotober didn't get far cuz it was so niche, but the people whom I participated in the lore with saw and liked it, so I'm not as bothered (unlike the MLP art I did for the Cringetober part...can't believe that one)

🤯 What's a genre you struggle with as a writer (ex. romance, action, etc.)?

Mystery for sure, bc I only attempted it once for school and I felt I didn't do the greatest (had to hide a phobia in the writing and my classmates guessed it rather quickly). I'm also not super interested in writing mysteries, so it works.

Angst might be the other one, bc it depends on the type of angst. Most angst I can't write unless I'm already in a funk, bc even my own writing has the opportunity to bring me down. At the risk of sounding like the meme, I have a bit too much empathy to write depressing circumstances unless I'm in that mindset. I wrote something with mild angst recently and it made me tear up 😅 I can't read angst cuz it usually hurts too much. Major angst/whump no, minor angst sometimes.

Thank you for da ask!!

[allfortzu]

DID I JUST HEAR SATZU TOXIC FWB

well... maybe! it's quite a classic trope isn't it!! I think I've attempted writing it at least once every year for like the past 3 years, but I never finish it,, my heart simply can't take the angst 😞 though, if you see smth like it show up in a certain req then... 🫢

[gukieater]

Saudade || Chapter 1: Seoul Rain

Summary: A man of plan. Jungkook didn't live a life he didn't design. But when fate decides to take control will he take it back or he will lose his way, like he did when he was 15?

Or

Mafia AU where OC helps her coworker runaway from her mafia fiance and get caught on the process by his men. But when Jungkook finally sees you, anger is not what he feels.

⚜️ Pairing: Mafia Jungkook x Reader

⚜️ Rating: M

⚜️Genre: Mafia, angst, Lil fluff later on, slow-burn, childhood friends to lovers, slow burn.

⚠️ Warnings: Swearing, name-calling, violence, physical abuse, domestic violence, illegal drug dealing, childhood trauma, attempted sexual abuse (I'll ad them as I write, feel free to remind me if I forget something as well)

First thing first, as originally planned, this is not going to be a one shot. I'm sorry (am I?)

And since it's not a oneshot, I am really really not sure when the next part is gonna drop. Again, I'm sorry.

One of the reasons this not being a oneshot is the character development of both Jungkook, mostly the OC. Since it's going to be officially my full blown fic, I really want to play around with her character and I may have quite a few idea. So again I apologize for the delay.

Another thing is that I really don't proofread what I write so it's pretty much the first draft I wrote. So for obvious reasons there will be tons of tons mistakes. So basically how it goes is when I get the chance to re-read the entire thing, I correct the mistake as I go. And English is my second language so if you are looking for finesse, I must warn you, you will be disappointed 😞.

🔹🔷 Series Master list 🔷🔹

10:30 am, Trimage, Seongdong-gu, Seoul.

Funny how change of perspective changes the reality of things. He always felt like his apartment building wasted a lot of space for open parking now staring at it from the 38th floor of his apartment building, the space looks impossibly small. Insignificant even. Like his childhood.

Jungkook is staring at his image on the window. He can count the changes in his body that took place through out the years. He can't see the scrawny, malnourished 14 years old boy reflect back at him anymore. Instead he is looking at someone well-built, not buff yet farm, well postured man staring back at him.

A man.

He's not surprised with his transition, far from it. He worked for them, to the point that he's almost proud. He calculated every single change that took place in his life, measured and laid out by him, with precision, patience, and control- impeccable control.

His thoughts are interrupted by a phone call. Looking at the window now, it's starting to fogg up, a tale tale sign of untimely Seoul rain, he can't see his shadow anymore. He reluctantly takes the call, almost dreading it. Although he has been anticipating this call the entire morning, something tells him he's not gonna like what he'll hear and how things roll from there.

"Minho"

"We found her"

"Tae-hee? She is in Korea!?"

"No, but we got a lead. Found the whore who caused this whole riot in the first place. Tae-hee doesn't have the gall to . . . "

"I know what she is capable of and what not, I didn't ask for her resume Minho. Now would you get to the fucking point, what do we know. You are wasting time?" Jungkook cuts him off annoyingly.

"We've been trying to coax stuff out off her since last night, the bitch here won't budge"

"Hold on..." Jungkook can feel the headache forming already. "Are you trying to tell me we had a lead since last night and I am being informed now? In the dead-fucking morning? When I clearly remember giving clear instructions to notify me the instance we have some sort of lead on her whereabouts?"

Minho noticably gulp over the phone, " Bos-ss . . .we were just trying to give you something solid before we pass on the information of having a lead. Thought. . .'

"It would impress me? Well you thought wrong because I can think of at least 10 reasons why I should put a bullet between your eyes. Not working so well for charming the big boss, is it Minho?"

" I-I . . . We'll get you s-something valuable . . ."

"Oh I know you will! If you want live pass to see the next day that is. I'm coming to the camp myself, ping the location to my driver. And Minho?"

"Yes, boss"

"It's Miss Song to you, you disrespectful bastard." Jungkook all but lowly hisses over the phone, calm and collected. But Minho on the other side, nearly soils his pressed slacks, that's the affect he has over the man that works for him. If given the option, they'll probably slit their own throat than facing a pissed of Jungkook and bear the consequences. He's a rational man but he could be very devil when he wants to be.

It has started to rain meanwhile. The rain was a much needed relief to the summer heat in Seoul. Still, Jungkook doesn't like the rain. It reminds him of the uncertainty, things or situations he cannot control. And he absolutely hates it.

Jungkook is also a prideful man, rising from the streets to become the king of underworld and he doesn't like when other people meddle in his business. He hustled the life of a ring fighter, it was his own kind of school for all the illegal business he runs. He learned how to stay invisible even he's standing in front of his opponent. How to make himself small enough to the point they dismiss him till he can take a leap and devour them.

From his fighting days if one thing that he has hold on to till this day is his disciplines. He has a certain rhythm set for things and he prefers to stay attune to them, he likes his control like that. So whenever someone or something tends to disturb it, he's rather ruthless taking care of it. Bloods are shed. Again, he's not unnecessarily violent. Even his violence are measured, calculated. He thinks it gives out the message more effectively.

He's now on his way to meet the intruder that recently caused the disharmony in his otherwise disciplined life. He doesn't even know the name of the person yet. You see Jungkook lays his plans out where he can see them clear as a vision, like scenes unfolding in opera. He designs the prologue himself. Knows how the next scene unfolds, where to draw the climax in and when to drop the curtains. So when did Song Ta-hee become part of that vision? When Jungkook drew and laid out the outline for his next victory.

Jungkook met Tae-hee at a strip club named Tokyo, formerly owned by the Ha-Jongs, given out to Bangtan as a token of appreciation later, more like a courting gift to show that they are willingly to give out part of their territory because they want somewhat of a more permanent alliance.

Song Tae-hee was one of many illegitimate offsprings of the Lord, Ha-Jongs gnarly and ruthless leader Yi Kang-Hwan. Now Ha-Jongs were very proud of their roots, traditional even. Although Tae-hee and her mother never got the legal recognition nor legitimacy through marriage, because it was against their tradition to take more than one wife legally. Kang-hwan still wanted to acknowledge them by making them take the family name. It wasn't an option for discussion, it was a decision. And Yis' don't take so kindly to rejections. It goes beyond saying what it would implicate if one of them to actually reject that decision, it's an direct insult to the Yis' and by default, to the Ha-jongs.

So Tae-hee being the perfect bull-headed daughter of Kang-hwan did the first only thing she could to piss her father off. She declined to take up the family name and ran off to Seoul to become a stripper. As ruthless as the Ha-Jongs were, they weren't uncouth. They were very traditional the way they carried their family, legitimate or not. Everyone associated with the YI's are to abide by their family tradition where woman stays within certain boundaries.

So when Kang-hwan decided to break her mother's heart, she decided to strike back the way she knee, she could.

Jungkook needed to have access to Samcheok port to smuggle his supplies in uninterrupted without constantly thinking of anomalies. The only alternative to that was the northern part of the regime but that's under military supervision.

It's more hustle than he would like handle, not to mention taxing to his resources. Samcheok port falls heavily under the area controlled by the Ha-Jongs, they were the farm believers of, if you control the sea, you control the country. So there's no way to bypass them without brewing unnecessary wars. So Jungkook got creative and decided to write his own verse to the family drama.

And the curtain rises.

"You look seemingly lost with a touch of pissed, Miss" Jungkook lazily drawls, inspecting his surroundings. The club could use a makeover and set of new sound system. His head is pounding. This gets her attention.

"And you look like you got no business being here. What, your stripper dumped your goody two shoes ass for someone more loaded?" Hye-Jin doesn't back down when it comes to snide remarks. Jungkook smiles at that.

"How did you guess? Don't you look like the sympathetic one? What got you in this part of the town? Daddy issues?"

That wipes all the smugness off Hye-Jin's face. Now all she feels is anger brewing in the pit of her stomach.

"Are you one of his dogs? Did my pathetic excuse of a father send you sniffing around me? Well you can go ahead tell him he can't do shit in this side of the town and he can fuck himself. Bangtan pulls all the shit here now."

"Now that's no way to talk about your own father, is it Princess?" she scoffs at the nickname.

"You don't know shit about him so if you wanna go lick his boots, go kill some mutts for him or fondle one of his whores so she can put on some good words for you." At this point Jungkook has seemingly grown bored of the conversation. Same old, same old. She's wasting time.

"Look,I get the anger, really. Mine was a bastard too. So what if I tell you I have a plan that will do a lot more than pissing of "Pathetic excuse of a father" of yours and doesn't involve getting strangers tongue getting shoved down your throat and flashing your assets to sweaty, deprived old man every night."

Hye-Jin contemplates the offer for a second before dismissing him, "As much charming as you are, I don't trust you. For all I know, you could be a trap and I don't plan to get fucked both ways soon. So unless you want a lap dance, I suggest you haul ass. Therapy's over, you are wasting business hours."

Jungkook looks down and chuckles at this," You know, for a girl who looks this elegant, you sure have a foul mouth. When I first heard you were in ballet and this close to become a Prima Ballerina, I thought there must be a strong reason as to why you decided to throw that away and chose to live the life that you are living. Now that I've met you I know why." Hye-Jin's mouth hangs open at that. Who exactly was he? Even her father didn't know that.

"And what is that? Not that I care about your opinion." She tries to wash down her nervousness with feint arrogance.

"Because you are outright stupid, Hye-Jin, is why. Anyway, now that you have wasted my time, I will see myself out. If that dead brain of yours miraculously starts working and you change your mind, give me a call. As you said, we are losing business hours." Jungkook carelessly threw his business card on the bar and walked away. Hye-Jin looks perplexed for a minute and contemplates her options. The pay was generous and she didn't have todo anything that was forced but this isn't remotely the life she wanted for herself. "Fuck it!" She groans and picks up the card and her eyes shot open. "Jeon Jungkook . . ." The new owner off Tokyo, the one who took over this club shortly after she become a stripper here. Intrigued is a understatement, she needs to know what is going on.

So when Jungkook's phone went of that night and he saw her number, he already knew he won. From there, the announcement, the engagement went pretty fast. What Hye-Jin was getting out of this? The satisfaction to watch the Ha-Jongs and her father come crumbling down as Jungkook laid out his plan to dismantle them from the inside out. What irked her though the plan required her to play the good daughter and a perfect fiance to Jeon Jungkook.

The later part was a lot bearable though. Jungkook was not ill-spoken like her father, in fact they barely talked. But he made sure she was well taken care off, respected and safe. She didn't mind the occasional intimacy as well in fact it was better than what she had in the past. He was a gentle lover, complied with her needs and at the same time could be rough when she wanted him to. He let her take the charge of her pleasure and he took care of her after they were done. Cleaning her, tucking her under the sheets, making sure she gets a warm bath drawn the next day and the breakfast delivered to her bed. She rarely met someone who cared about such small details without being explicit about it. And that led her to make her first mistake.

She became emotionally drawn to Jungkook. She started to crave more. But when she started to understand this strictly business for Jungkook and this is as far as she gets, it broke her.

She retorted her old ways to get the attention she craved from him. So when she declared she is going to work as a barista to the cafe she was recently frequenting just to spite him and he just nodded, not paying her attention she decided to deliver her final blow.

"I want to call off the engagement"

At this, Jungkook throws her a brief, almost a bored look. He dives back to his paperwork, "Back being a brat, aren't we?" Jungkook chuckles, sipping his coffee, "It's amusing how you think it's up to you to decide what you can bring to this arrangement we have and what not"

He puts down his mug and throws her one final look, "So, no Princess, you are not calling off the engagement. Your car will be ready in 15 min to take you to the cafe. Wouldn't wanna be late in your first day of work, would we?" At this Jungkook walks out of the study the close the door behind him.

Hye-Jin doesn't know what made the first drop of tear rolled down her cheeks, was it the frustration of being denied what she longed for or the anger towards the man she held some sort of adoration who didn't even take a minute to reduce her down to nothing. No, she didn't love Jungkook, but she could, she wanted to. Now she can't seem to even breathe around him.

Hye-Jin slowly came to terms with her situation, accepting it even. She would daily remind herself why was she here. There was no point in hiding, running, this was her life now. That Jungkook won once again, how his plans were flawless. Everything was on track, just how he painted.

Funny how sometimes a small shift can throw a wrench to a perfectly engineered plan and everything comes toppling down due to that one measley change. Jeon Jungkook's designed his plan to be precise, flawless and infallible but he did not plan for one thing.

You.

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@joonwater can't tag you bub :(