#chapter 2 finally out yay!

[webcomic-the-decaying]

Chapter 2 - Maverick

Maverick- 1 | Page 29

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[mokadevs]

You’re getting messier each loop. You’re impatient and this stuff doesn’t have a convenient ‘pick up from this checkpoint’, doesn’t have a ‘skip through read text’. Every life spared, every breakthrough in speech, every triumph is reset more easily than it was achieved. And they’re all becoming less frequent anyhow. To be honest, it’s starting to blur together. - Ritsuka is stuck in a time loop.

[fruitmouse]

they have GOT to release more unsleeping city merch btw im so . im so in need im SO in need dude come on.

[seventh-district]

several days and 15 thousand words later, i am relieved to report that the suffocating urge to Write Something has been sated and no longer has me in a chokehold

[nomaishuttle]

another successful therapy

[tojicide]

chapter 2 ── too easy, this game.

the spider’s sense: a spidercaleb series.

♥︎ spider-man!caleb x fem!reader

synopsis. ┆ caleb’s life was perfect—until it wasn’t. a radioactive spider bite turned him into linkon’s friendly neighborhood spider-man, the daily bugle started hunting for the man behind the mask, and to top it all off, he was forced to partner up with you—his smart, competitive, and infuriatingly perfect classmate who threatened his spot as number one in the class rankings.

tags/warnings. ┆ college/modern au, academic rivals to lovers, fluff, angst, eventual smut, gran isn’t evil in this LOL, the canon event, college parties, alcohol consumption, cliches, depictions of serious crime, references to the spider-man comics and movies, mdni

chapter summary. ┆ after you’re forced to check up on caleb, you realize that your methods of revenge can be sweeter and much more interesting than you had originally anticipated.

prev: pest control. ┆ series masterlist. ┆ next: pepper spray.

“Remember that fundraiser I was telling you about?”

You lift your gaze from the sidewalk, giving Tara a sideways glance. “Yeah, I think so. What about it?”

“Well,” she sings, hugging her thick textbook tighter to her chest before nudging you with her elbow, “I was wondering if you’d like to help us out! We’re always looking for more girls, you know. The sisters of Delta Gamma can only do so much.”

You suck your teeth, tilting your head as your eyes drift to the towering oak tree at the center of the great lawn. The campus had spent the past few days drowning under gray skies and spring showers, but today, the sun had finally broken through. Its warmth pressed against your skin, so bright you had to squint just to avoid being completely blinded.

You look back at Tara. “What day is it again?”

“Next Saturday,” she says with a shrug. “2 PM, in the parking lot between the Delta Gamma house and Lambda Chi Alpha’s.” A pause, as if she was already sensing your impending rejection. “Please? Please!”

You hate when she does this. The puppy dog eyes. That hopeful little tilt of her head. The same look that had managed to drag you to one too many frat parties when you swore you wouldn’t go. Saying no made you feel like some heartless villain stomping on an ant just for the fun of it, and for a moment, you almost caved entirely.

“I’ll… think about it, but midterms are–” you start, but before you can finish, she’s already beaming.

“Yay!” Tara links her arm through yours, practically bouncing as you continue toward Grand Hall. “I’ll text you all the details, ‘kay? I so owe you one.”

You press your lips into a thin smile, debating whether to remind her that you hadn’t actually said yes. Instead, you settle for, “If I end up making it, we’ll call it even for you helping me study for chem.”

She grins. “Good luck on that, by the way. I know you’ll do great!”

The two of you stop outside the building, and Tara leans in, lowering her voice conspiratorially like she’s about to tell you a scandalous secret.

“And remember, the electron cloud model—”

“—is the area around an atom’s nucleus where electrons are most likely to be found,” you finish, unable to fight a smile. “I know, I know. You trained me well.”

You squeeze her arm before unhooking yourself and stepping into the lecture hall.

“I’ll find you after class!” she calls after you.

Inside, the air is sharp with cold, and a shiver runs down your spine. The mood of the room seems different today, as if the oxygen you were all breathing in was thick with anxiety. Your seatmate, Yvonne, is already at her desk, supplies neatly arranged in front of her. You give her a silent smile before sitting down and doing the same.

Once again, you can’t help but notice that the room is quiet—eerily so. Everyone is either too tired to talk or too nervous to form a coherent sentence. Probably both.

As the exam begins, the only sounds filling the space are the rustling of paper and the scratch of pencils against scantrons. You’re on question 21 when you realize you’ve just marked “C” four times in a row. A bead of cold sweat pricks at your temple, and you read over each question about a hundred times, praying that you’ll catch your mistake. After all, that can’t be right… can it? Your gut says yes. Your overthinking says absolutely not.

An hour later, relief ripples through the room as students zip up their backpacks and shuffle toward the front to turn in their scantrons. You’re right behind them, ready to bolt for the door—until Dr. Rappaccini calls your name.

Pausing mid-step, you turn back to face her, plastering on a polite smile that didn’t quite reach your eyes. “Yeah?”

She digs through her bag before pulling out a worn notebook, its cover littered with colorful tabs and sticky notes. Holding it out to you, she looks as if she couldn’t care less about the transaction.

“I believe your lab partner left this in the laboratory last class.”

Your brows furrow as you take the heavy notebook into your hands, flipping it open with a frown. Lo and behold, there it was—‘Property of Caleb Xia’ scribbled in that god-awful handwriting. Raising an eyebrow, you shake your head. “It’s his, yeah… but why are you giving it to me?”

“He didn’t show up for today’s exam, and I’ve canceled class next Monday,” she explains, slinging her tote bag over her shoulder. “Since you work closely with him, I figured you’d see him before I do.”

Now that catches your attention. A sliver—no, a slap—of satisfaction rolls through you. So his sabotage in the lab had already come back to bite him? Karma was fast today. You couldn’t be happier. But unfortunately, the thought of voluntarily interacting with Caleb makes your stomach churn, so you extend the notebook back to your professor without hesitation.

“I assure you, I don’t care to see that man. It’s probably best if you return it to him.”

She glances at her watch, and you can practically see the sweat break out on her forehead. “Oh, I wish I had the time to. I’m running late!”

Gathering her belongings, she makes a beeline for the door. You’re quick to try and follow suit.

Her voice adds a swift, “Ask around! I’m sure someone can help you track him down.”

“But wait! I don’t even—”

The door slams behind Dr. Rappaccini, leaving you frozen in place with Caleb’s stupid notebook clutched to your chest.

“—know what building he lives in.”

You groan, dragging your feet toward the exit, already dreading the idea of having to track down that idiot. In fact, maybe you won’t.

♥︎ ♥︎ ♥︎

“Hey, what are you doing?”

Tara’s voice cuts through the air, startling you. The flicked lighter in your hand dies out before you can hold it to the bottom of Caleb’s notebook long enough for the flames to catch.

“The damn thing won’t light,” you huff, shaking your head in defeat. “Do you happen to know anyone on campus who has lighter fluid?”

Tara crouches beside you, watching with mild horror as you attempt—and fail—to ignite the corner of the notebook again. “Uh… no, not off the top of my head.” She pauses, tilting her head. “And just to be clear, you’re aware that you’re about to light your notebook on fire, right?”

You shrug. “It’s not mine.”

Her head snaps toward you so fast you worry about whiplash. “Okay, let me rephrase that. You’re aware that you’re about to commit a felony, right?”

You flick the lighter again, giving her a puzzled look. “Please, Tara, I don’t care about felonies right now. This is war, and I need to take my revenge.”

“Revenge?” she echoes, her lips tugging downward like she hadn’t considered that to be your motive. “On the notebook or the owner?”

“On Caleb fucking Xia,” you reply, punctuating each word with another flick of the lighter. Then, finally, a tiny flame flickers to life at the corner of the notebook. A wide grin spreads across your lips. “Yay! I did it! Look, I—”

Tara leans forward, blows out the flame, and snatches the lighter from your grasp. “Are you nuts? You can’t just burn his chem notebook!”

You hum, twisting your lips to the side. “You’re right. I’d totally get caught. Maybe I should pawn it off to a frat guy? Make a quick buck. They’d probably pay good money for his notes.”

“What? No! You can’t burn his notebook because that would mean stooping to his level!”

You reach for the lighter, but she stretches her arm out just far enough that you can’t reach.

“Tara! When they go low, we must go lower.”

“When they go low, we should be the bigger person,” she corrects, patting your head like a disobedient child. “How did you even get it? You didn’t steal it, did you?”

You sigh, shaking your head. “No, I wish. Dr. Rappaccini gave it to me to return to him. Apparently, he left it in the lab.”

Tara tilts her head. “Oh. He didn’t show up for the exam? That’s… unlike him.”

Shrugging, you brush off the singed paper flakes from the bottom of the notebook. “I guess. Can’t say I care, though. It’s what he deserves.”

She scoffs. “Geez, this whole scandal has turned you heartless. The Caleb I know would rather eat glass than miss an exam, especially the first one of the semester. I hope he’s alright.”

“In that case, maybe you should be the one to return it to him,” you suggest, holding it out. “You seem to know where he lives, and you actually care if he’s alive. That’s already two steps in the right direction.”

Tara glances at her phone, then sucks on her teeth before flashing you a wry smile. “Oh, shoot! I can’t. I have my physics exam in four minutes.” Before you can argue, she’s already bolting toward her class. “Uh, I think he’s close with Zayne! The one from our bio class!”

You toss your hands up. “Why the hell am I being sent on a manhunt?” Patting your pockets, you realize something’s missing. “Hey! You took my lighter.”

“It’s for the better!” she calls over her shoulder.

♥︎ ♥︎ ♥︎

After a deep dive through Canvas, a trip to Outlook to send Zayne a rather frantic email, and a very long walk across campus, you find yourself stalking through the halls of an unfamiliar dorm building.

Your eyes flick up from your phone every few steps, scanning the numbers on the doors to make sure you haven’t somehow wandered into oblivion. It’s been ten minutes—too long, in your opinion—and you’re beginning to feel like a headless zombie, doomed to wander these halls forever.

That is, until your eyes land on a familiar set of numbers.

Room 323.

Exhaling sharply, you raise your fist and knock three times against the door. The response is almost immediate—an audible thud, followed by an impressive string of curses.

Then, the door swings open, revealing a very panicked and very shirtless Caleb.

And you? Your brain short-circuits. 

For a second—just one—you can’t help it. Your gaze drops straight to his torso, where sharp lines of muscle carve into his biceps and abdomen like a damn Michelangelo sculpture. You’re almost positive those weren’t there yesterday. Scratch that. You’re absolutely positive they weren’t. 

And you would have noticed. You’re nothing if not boundlessly observant. After all, you’re just a girl. You would have noticed if your infuriating classmate had nice biceps that would have certainly softened the blow of his sudden betrayal in the lab yesterday. 

Pretty privilege is alive and well, you can’t help but think. 

Caleb, looking equally flustered, yanks the door halfway shut, reducing the view to just his face. His chest still heaves from whatever chaos had preceded your arrival.

“I, uh… um.” He blinks, clearly rebooting his internal system. His brain fries, and of course the first thing he can do is lean his elbow against the door frame while not-so-obviously flexing his much larger bicep in the process. “So… what’s up?”

Dragging your gaze up to meet his with only minor difficulty, you hold up the slightly charred notebook in your hands. “You left this in class. Rappaccini told me to bring it to you.”

Caleb reaches for it, and the moment his fingers graze the cover, his brows furrow. He flips it over, rubbing his thumb against the edge. A smudge of soot stains his hand.

“What… happened to it?”

You lift your shoulders, hands flying up in a gesture of pure innocence. “No clue. Your guess is as good as mine.”

Before he can properly assess the obvious fire damage, you straighten your posture. If you beat him to it, there’s a good chance that you’ll be able to walk away from this entire ordeal scot free. 

Just… be civil. You can do that much.

“Are you not going to say thank you? I literally had to email your roommate to find out where you live. It was a total inconvenience.”

Or not.

Caleb presses his lips into a thin line, tossing the notebook onto his desk before giving you a barely-there nod. “Right. Thanks.”

His clipped tone does nothing to soothe your irritation. You’re actually starting to regret not letting the damn thing go up in flames. If it weren’t for Tara and her obnoxious morality complex, you would have.

“You’re welcome,” you say sweetly, pivoting to leave. But just before he can close the door, something crosses your mind. “Oh! By the way, I wrote my number in the margin.”

Caleb’s eyes widen. His grip on the door frame tightens. “What? For me?”

A beat of silence. Then, you burst into laughter, and the fact that he isn’t laughing with you makes it ten times funnier. You have to physically wipe the tears from your eyes before you can speak again.

“Oh, you’re serious?” you wheeze, still catching your breath. “God, no. It’s for Zayne.”

“For… Zayne?”

You nod. “Yup. I have biology with him.”

Caleb leans back slightly, like you’ve just personally offended his ancestors. “And? You have chem with me.”

You flash him an expression that Caleb can only assume is the most passive-aggressive smile known to mankind. “Mm-hmm. Well, maybe I want to get in kahoots with people who don’t sabotage my lab reports.”

Ouch. Caleb rubs the back of his neck, swallowing hard. “About that…”

“Save it,” you hum, turning to leave. “Just be a doll and relay the message, yeah?”

But just before you step away, your eyes flicker to his chest again—this time, with an exaggerated furrow of concern. “Wait a sec… what the hell is that? You should really get that nasty mole checked out.”

Caleb’s brows knit together. He instinctively glances down—

And just as his chin tilts, your hand smacks against it, forcing it back up. Your laughter is louder this time. Almost cruel.

“Too easy, this game,” you taunt, shaking your head.

You’re gone before he can do anything other than stand there, jaw slack, ears burning a shade of red that rivals a fire hydrant. How could you prank him with the easiest trick in the book? He rubs his chin, shaking his head in utter defeat as he nudges his door shut. 

Yeah. He doesn’t like you one bit.

Before he can dwell on that fact, his phone buzzes in his pocket. 

xavier (pres of lambda chi alpha): i woke up late and missed physics. can U slide me the notes for the past week? i also slept through those days too… btw Ur still coming to the frat car wash next saturday right ?? we need U bro. U brought in so many new customers 

caleb: sure man :)

xavier (pres of lambda chi alpha): the goat

♥︎ ♥︎ ♥︎

Sirens blare loud enough to wake you, their wailing cries bouncing off the buildings outside your window. The flashing of red and blue does little to ease your nerves—if anything, it invites the perfect storm of overthinking.

Your room is a mess. You haven’t eaten a balanced meal in days. A biology project is due next week. But above all? Midterms are rapidly approaching.

Lately, most of your days are spent holed up on the second floor of the library, tucked away in your usual corner seat. From there, you can people-watch from above and soak in just enough sunlight to keep from feeling like life is draining from you with each word you scribble down or type up. But after a while, even the comfort of routine turns into a cage.

It’s monotonous. Tiring. Far too predictable for your liking. If you don’t see at least one interesting thing each day—whether it’s someone walking their adorable dog or a person wearing a sweater so blindingly neon it makes your eyes hurt—you consider the day a waste. You still study, of course, but you need something of substance to fuel your brain. Something besides your bitter iced coffee, which barely manages to keep you conscious.

Maybe it’s the exhaustion of your second midterm season settling into your bones. Maybe it’s the weight of all your responsibilities pressing down on your shoulders. Whatever it is, it drives you to seek out a new place to study.

Is it 4 AM? Yes. Are the sirens especially loud tonight? Also yes. You can’t sleep. Sue you.

It makes perfect sense why you find yourself trudging into your university’s 24-hour café, headphones snug over your ears and meal card already in hand. Fuzzy pajama pants and an oversized hoodie hang off your frame, but if the cashier doesn’t care, neither do you. You’d be damned if you didn’t at least get your usual morning drink and a slice of banana bread to kickstart your day.

No more than an hour passes before the faint jingle of the entrance bell rings to life, prompting you to spare a glance over your shoulder, curiosity piqued.

Luck isn’t on your side. Of course it’s Caleb. 

And he looks… different. Not in the way he did a few days ago—no, he looks worn. Tired. A bruise blooms across his cheek, stark even in the café’s dim lighting. You force yourself to look away before you can start ogling like a freak. Again.

But as he makes his way in your direction, you barely suppress a groan, turning back toward your laptop in a last-ditch effort to seem busy. It doesn’t work. Not when you feel the weight of his beady little amethyst stare boring into the back of your head. 

You sigh, forcing a cheery tone. “Can you maybe not stand next to me looking like a decaying corpse? You’re going to attract flies.” 

Caleb shrugs, managing to pick an almond off your banana bread before you slap his hand away. “You’re doing that on your own. Didn’t you hear? This café was infested with fruit flies last semester. Your perfume is basically a mating call for ‘em.”

You huff, tilting your head. “Aw. Is that your way of saying I smell nice?” 

Rolling his eyes, Caleb crosses his arms over his chest. You notice a small cut on his bicep, but you do your best not to stare. You've done enough of that lately. 

“No,” he flatly says. “I’m just… stating my observation.” 

You turn back to your laptop, sliding your headphones over your ears. “Well, stop observing me.”

”Psh. Gladly.”

His actions are the first thing to betray his words, because he makes the executive decision to sit in the chair directly behind yours. He was sitting so damn close that you could feel the warmth of his skin through his hoodie—which you now notice is thrashed in a few places, as if he had taken scissors to the fabric and snipped away. It was odd, but you managed to look away as he shifted around to fish his own laptop out of his backpack. 

Then, before you can finish typing the sentence you’d been working on before he walked in, he beats you to it. Obnoxiously so. His fingers slam against his keyboard with such force you briefly wonder if an elephant from the Linkon City Zoo has escaped and taken up tap dancing behind you.

Your teeth clench. “Can you stop typing so damn loud?” 

“Oh, I’m not the loud one here.” 

You glance over your shoulder, finding that he was already looking at you, “And that means what exactly?”

“It means that I could probably hear your music if I was three miles away.” With his new heightened senses, that was hardly an exaggeration. He gave you an all-too-charming smile. “Turn it down a few levels, yeah? Thanks.” 

The lilt to his voice made you want to set him straight in more ways than one. “You little—”

“New Magic Wand by Tyler, The Creator at 4 AM is crazy work, by the way.” 

“Boy, I’ll show you crazy—”

Suddenly, a chipper voice rings through the air. Much to your surprise, it called out your name.

Tara strides in as if you all aren’t up at the crack of dawn, looking incredibly enthusiastic about life, much like she always did. You wish you could inherit whatever will she has to live.

“Hey!” she greets with a wave. She plops down beside you, turning around in her seat so that she could face both you and Caleb at the same time. “Funny seeing you guys here. Are you talking about the fundraiser?”

You blink. “Huh?”

“Why would we be talking about the fundraiser?” he can’t help but question. 

“Well,” Tara sings, “my girl here is going to be helping out Delta Gamma with the sorority wash! And you’re going to be helping out Lambda Chi Alpha again this year, right?” 

Caleb is almost positive that his heart has just dropped to his ass. 

He looks between you and Tara. “What? She can’t come.”

You let out a short, annoyed breath. “And why can’t I?”

And he knows he sounds like a petulant child when he mutters, “It’s my thing.”

“Aw,” you coo, tilting your head with a forced pout. “Is it your thing? Womp womp.” 

Caleb rolls his eyes, but you don’t care to see it as you lean toward Tara, lowering your voice as if you were telling her top secret information. “Why didn’t you tell me he would be there?”

“Because if I had, you would have totally refused,” she says matter-of-factly. “And we need you! We can’t let the guys bring in more revenue than us this semester, they held it over our heads for, like… months last time! Plus, I need you to combat him. I swear, he brought in more customers than anyone ever has, it’s no wonder Xavier begged him to do it again.”

You blink. “Are you serious?” 

Tara nods. 

You can’t help but rub your chin. “I’m surprised anyone paid him for that.” 

Caleb glances between the two of you. “I’m sitting right here.”

You glance his way. “We know.”

He lets out a harsh breath. “Look. If you don’t want to see me there, don’t come. Real easy fix.”

You tilt your head, raising a brow. “Why do I have to be the one to cancel? Why can’t you just skip it? You already had your fun last year playing chick magnet or… whatever.”

“I can’t. I already made a commitment.”

“Well, so did I.”

“Perfect!” Tara beams, clasping her hands together. “I’ll see you both there then. This is gonna be sooo much fun, guys! You can probably even get over the little feud you have going on, I swear, it’ll be…”

Caleb can’t even hear the rest of whatever Tara was saying. His mind is too busy short-circuiting over this very dreadful realization. 

You’ll be there. 

In a bikini top.

Covered in soap suds. 

Trying to pass him up yet again. 

This was going to be a damn nightmare.

series masterlist. ┆ next: pepper spray.

a/n consider liking, commenting, or rb if you enjoyed :) i’m sorry this update took so long </3 i got so swamped with my uni work and wasn’t entirely satisfied with the chapter sooo i pushed it off.

i know that this is lowkey a slow start with really short chapters and there isn’t much spider-man stuff going on rn but… trust me guys. just trust me.

also ofc there’s a xavier cameo bc that’s my man soooo i had to include him somehow, even if he’s just a sleepy frat boy

edit: if you don’t know what a frat/sorority wash is just look them up on tiktok LMAO, it’s usually shirtless frat guys and sorority girls in bikini tops who wash cars to raise money for their foundations. it’s just a silly college tradition idk 😭

taglist. (join it by commenting under this post!)

@leonskenthusiast @universallysoulcreator @devonjs-blog @lacieohlacie @kisswithyoureyesclosed @lovesick-sylus @livonianmaia @hqnge @yuuuumii @mizzfizz @simpfortheseven @nyxthejinx-rantsaboutlads @mariojins @rcvcngers @yizhoupilled @irlsammy @gloomuri671 @risagichi @drinking2nite @seikamuzu @flowers-wilt-on-juniper-lane

@that-one-scoundrel @joy-laufeyson @missaengg @wheatrice @gvenone @desiree-archive @jayhyunglover @flwerie @miffysoo @jijijihanji @ssetsuka @mglwhor3 @sureconfused @vorfreudevortex @honehbee42 @angelbeat994 @codedove @cheesemachine44 @mocha-the-muse @msanimeotaku181 @breadiestpuffs @idkwhatursayinh @hannahchk @rxelarailuj @littlebabyypeach @wooasecret @nikilig @theweevilofsweetreef @etsuniiru

[gingerale13]

Scout visits his Ma after being missing for years !!

Once again spreading the word of amazing TF2 fanfics!!

The ~277K work, "Stolen Pieces" was finally finished by it's lovely author @milk-v3 (AKA AhChunta) after like 2 years of consistent updates yay!!

The AU is that Scout is a high-profile art thief, and Sniper is the agent tryin to catch him. Overall, all of the characters are just super well-built out, the plot is constantly twisting & turning, and some of the chapters made me cry 👍

I would highly suggest giving it a read, especially if you like Speeding Bullet, Engiespy, and Heavymedic sprinkled in-between. This fic is right up there with Running Blind and GTTMs for me🙏

[kroosluvr]

present day

if every day will be like this from now on, i'll look forward to every single one.

ok. Sits down. help meeee i tried using csp's comic tools for once (and also gradient maps + coloring w monochrome) to save time bUT I ENDED UP SPENDING THE USUAL AMT ANYWAY SO. . erm. WELL IT WAS FUN ANYWAYS

hiiiiiiiii i wrote this script 4 months ago nd finally did it (had this on the backburner for 20 million yrs bc i wanted to get out other angst bullshit first)

the parallels of goro's back (x3) on the first 2 pgs are kinda not 1:1 as i'd like but REGARDLESS i still like them. goro, who had utmost control over his life, running it like a machine, regardless of how he feels or if he's tired or if he wants to give up.......he was in control. knowing, of course, that his life is on the line at every waking moment, but since he was always on edge, always alert, he was still in control.

but now, surviving the long winter and coming out to the other side, he's lost that control AND that edge. now what is he left with? what is there left?

very speficially in the 2nd page.... i think its so <3 YAY <3 that goro, now, doesn't feel the need to take such spic-and-span clean-cut care of his appearance.., guy who rolls out of bed and throws on a shirt to go hangout w akira and sumire. he decides to tie up his hair and forgoes his gloves... feels more "comfortable" to change his apperance, to let down his guard a little. <- was the rough symbolism JKDSHKFS

sumire getting the choco croissant but letting goro have the first bite YEAHHHH WHATEVER

4th page symbolism is also rough i didnt think abt it too hard LMAO. 3rdsem goro watching his detective prince self leave. he knows acutely well that chapter of his life is over - whether he survives the long winter or dies in it. all that he knew - even though it was miserable and awful and frustrating and dangerous - is gone.

and now there's just this: the present day. whatever that means.

i think something important to me abt royal trio is just the idea of Learning To Just Exist: no need for a "purpose" or a "calling" or some overarching "goal". they just learn to exist.

and of course none of them really have a benchmark for "wow i like this i want to live like this" so they just roll with the punches, as they always have, but yknow. finally getting to live their honest student life as they always deserved

edit: and most importantly for goro, i think, is learning to cut himself some slack. "despite everything" he says, despite all the shit he's endured AND all the shit he's done, he feels like this is "right." whatever that means, he's ready to take it day by day to figure it out. AND THATS THE WHOLE THING Punches wall really hard

edit: I ALSO FORGOT. i think the sentiment of "being waited for" for goro means a lot. since he had to do everything by himself, fight for himself, decide everything for himself frm such a young age, the idea of akira and sumire waiting for him, inviting him out simply for him to be there -> is really meaningful to him, more than they could know.

edit AGAIN: also goro sleeping in means a lot to me. i imagine that guy has pretty terrible insomnia. ALSO HE HAS A BEDFRAME! i like the thought of his apartment being so /r/malelivingspaces throughout the game. he doesn’t deserve a bedframe. BUT HE HAS ONE NOW!

goros expressions in the last page gve me a hard time. sparkly....

also im SO freaking sorry if his voice isnt too well-written... i had a crisis over the wording while draiwng htis so much DSKHASKDASJK AND THE PANELING AND WHATEVERRR IDEK WHAT IM DOINGGG but it was fun!!!! exploratory..... regardless i will keep workign to do him and royaltrio justice. THUMBSUP EMOJI.

[batsovergotham]

i don’t know who i am anymore pt 2

"You've got the costume. You've got the power. You're Spider-Woman. Act like it."🕷🕸️

Main!Mark Grayson x Spider-Woman! Reader

warnings: smut, some angst, fluff, yay flashback time!!!

w/c: 18.4k

a/n: this chapter isn't really crucial to plot I left it in because I promised there would be more fluff n smut

Your room is excessively neat. Too quiet.

The graduation gown sits from your closet like it’s criticizing you. The cap is on your desk, tassel still sealed in the tiny package the school handed you during final week. You haven’t taken it out yet. You kind of enjoy the concept that if you don’t touch it, it won’t be real. That maybe the day won’t happen.

Your phone buzzes. Mark.

> you up?

You grin before you realize you’re smiling.

> barely. do i have to wear the cap or can i just glue the diploma to my chest

Mark replies quickly.

> new fashion trend but yes ben will cry if you don’t do it correctly

You pause, then smile wider. Ben. And May. They’re going to be there.

You’re going separately from Mark. Not because you’re concealing anything, you’re not. You’ve mentioned him before. Told May he made you laugh. Told Ben he helped you with chem. They know his name. They knew his voice, from the day he picked you up after school and honked twice in the driveway while you ran out the door, blushing.

But you haven’t spoken it out loud. Not yet. He’s yours, but in the manner that doesn’t always require explaining. And today? Today doesn’t feel like the proper day to characterize it.

You text him back.

> you bringing tissues? i’m guessing you’re a crier

Mark texts back.

> bold of you to think i have human emotions wait hold on just made eye contact with my mom and now i’m crying in the kitchen

You laugh and type back.

> idiot

Mark shoots back a text.

> your idiot

You ride to the ceremony with May and Ben. Ben drives. May has the radio tuned to a station that’s only playing slow, melancholy graduation music from the early 2000s. You sat in the back seat, legs hopping, trying not to pick at your gown.

Ben peers at you in the rearview mirror. “You okay, kiddo?”

You nod. “Just… a lot.”

May turns to face you. “You’ve earned this. You hear me? All of it.”

You nod again, but your throat’s a touch too tight to speak anything more.

May smiles. “And hey. That kid you mentioned once or twice—Mark, right? He going too?”

You pause.

Then nod. “Yeah. He’ll be there.”

She raises an eyebrow, but doesn’t press.

Ben snorts. “Is that the one who almost took out a mailbox trying to parallel park?”

“Ben.”

“I’m just saying. Bold choice.”

You grin. And feel your nerves relax just a bit. You notice Mark from across the field.

He’s in line with the rest of the alphabetically arranged mayhem, his hat slightly awry, robe blowing in the breeze. He notices you the second you locate him, like his radar is tuned to you and you alone. He doesn’t wave. He just grins. You don’t wave either. You just grin back. And yet, that’s louder than anything else going around you.

You spot them before Mark does.

You’ve known Debbie and Nolan for a while, at least, in the casual way people know the parents of their close friends. There were awkward half-smiles in the pick-up line outside school, courteous welcomes and dinners on evenings where you’d help Mark study for Chem, the one time Debbie handed you a tissue at a parent-teacher conference because your sinuses were acting up and she “always kept some handy.”

She’s standing beneath a tree now, away from the rush of post-graduation mayhem, wearing her usual blue button up, grey jeans, her hair tied in a tight bun. She seems peaceful. Warm. Like someone who’s handled the camera at a thousand school events and never missed the moment that mattered.

Nolan’s beside her. Tall. Hands in his pockets. Sharp posture. Watching the audience with that softly attentive face of his that doesn’t offer much, but never feels unfriendly either.

You tap Mark’s arm. “Your parents.”

He follows your eyes, nods. “Right. Let’s go say hi.”

You move together, falling into step as always. But your heart’s racing quicker now. They don’t know yet. About you and Mark. Not really. You’ve been around. Been to his place. Had dinner with them. Laughed at Nolan’s dry comments about his novels. Helped Debbie clean the dishes once after Mark burnt the noodles.

But that was all under the guise of just friends. Now? Now it’s different. Now you and Mark have held hands in school hallways, snuck kisses behind gym buildings, murmured vows in late-night conversations about how college won’t change how you feel. You’ve spent months orbiting each other with the type of gravity that only pulls tighter the longer you remain.

And they’re about to find out. Debbie sees you first. Her face brightens up.

“Oh!” she exclaims, coming forward. “There’s my favorite graduate!”

You open your mouth to say something, but she hugs you before you can.

“You looked so grown-up on that stage,” she adds, hugging your shoulders before stepping back. “Made me tear up.”

Mark coughs. “Mom.”

She turns to him. “You too, sweetheart. Obviously.”

Nolan provides a modest nod. “Congratulations, both of you.”

“Thanks,” you say, and you truly mean it.

Debbie’s glancing between the two of you now. Her eyes narrow. Just a bit. You gaze at Mark. Mark glances at you. And then Debbie says it.

“…You two came here to hang out together?”

Mark nods. “Yeah.”

Debbie’s stare lingers. “And sat together?”

You nod. Her brows rise.

“And walked out of the ceremony together?”

Mark touches the back of his neck. “Uh. Yeah. We’re... we’ve been together for a while now.”

The silence isn’t heavy. It’s loud. In a warm, astonished kind of manner. Debbie blinks once.

Then she claps her hands together. “Finally.”

Mark’s head twitches. “Wait—what?”

Nolan lets out a low sigh that could be the ghost of a chuckle.

Debbie glows. “Oh, please. Did you honestly believe I didn’t know?”

You gaze at her. “You—what?”

She pats your shoulder, smiling. "Sweetheart, the way you look at him? That’s exactly how I used to look at his dad, back when he didn’t have so much gray."

Nolan clears his throat. "It’s not that bad."

She smiles lightly, unfazed. "Keep telling yourself that, silver fox."

Mark’s mouth opens. Closes. “You knew?”

Debbie shrugs. “I didn’t know-know. But I guessed. And I hoped. And now I know for real, so now I get to celebrate.”

Nolan eventually talks again. “You make him calmer,” he explains simply. “That’s not easy.”

You gaze at Mark, shocked. Mark, for once, has nothing to say.

Debbie goes closer and offers you another hug, softer this time. “We like you, okay? We liked you before. But now it’s official.”

You grin into her shoulder. “Thanks, Mrs. Grayson.”

“Debbie,” she corrects softly. “You can stop with the formal stuff.”

You pull back. Then Debbie turns to Mark and slaps his arm.

“Ow!”

“You could’ve told us.”

“I was going to!”

“After the ceremony doesn’t count.”

Mark moans. “I wanted to do it right.”

Nolan arches a brow. “Did you think this needed to be a thing?”

Mark shrugs. “I don’t know! I didn’t want to make it weird.”

“It’s not weird,” Debbie says. “It’s you. And it’s her. It makes sense.”

Mark glances at you. And in the midst of the grass, surrounded by yelling family, confetti, and the loud sound of someone’s off-brand speaker playing a graduation playlist, he smiles like the sun’s just shining on you.

You grab for his hand. He accepts it without hesitation. And Debbie doesn’t say anything. She only offers a glance that says, ‘Good.’ Nolan nods once again. And just like that, it’s real. They know. They approve. And you didn’t even have to explain.

You don’t stay long.

There are pictures to take, relatives to manage, and dinner arrangements with May and Ben. But before you go, Debbie makes you promise to come by next weekend for dinner,“Nothing fancy. I’m making spaghetti again. He can’t burn it this time if I’m supervising.”

Nolan presents you a graduation card. Doesn’t tell anything about what’s inside. But when you open it later in the vehicle and see the check, your mouth drops.

Mark just shrugs. “They like you.”

You and Mark sit on the hood of his car after nightfall, still in your gowns, still excited from the day. You put your head against his shoulder.

“I can’t believe they knew,” you whisper.

“I can’t believe my mom used the phrase ‘finally.’”

“She’s been rooting for us longer than we have.”

Mark laughs quietly. You turn your head to look at him. And he’s already gazing at you.

Mark shifts awkwardly, but his voice is steady. "I meant it. Whatever's next... I want you there with me."

You smile, a little breathless. "Good. 'Cause I wasn’t planning on doing any of it without you."

He leans in. And kisses you. Not rushed. Not performative. Just real. And sweet. And slow. And as he draws away, he lays his forehead against yours.

“Guess we’re really doing this, huh?”

“Guess so.”

And the world, which earlier felt unimaginably large, suddenly feels exactly the perfect size.

The bell over the restaurant entrance jingles as you go inside, shrill and high-pitched like it always is. It’s the same sound that’s welcomed you since you were ten years old, strolling in on muddy boots and sunburnt cheeks, pleading for pancakes and chocolate milk after soccer games you didn’t even win.

But tonight, everything sounds different.

Tonight, the air feels thicker. Softer.

Like it knows this is the final time you’ll come here as a high school student. As a kid, really.

May and Ben are already in the back booth. It’s the one they usually pick, the one with the view of the parking lot and the flickering neon sign in the window that still hums on humid evenings. Ben’s waving as soon as he sees you, beaming so broadly it makes his spectacles drop down his nose. May’s almost halfway out of her seat, reaching for you with both arms.

“There she is,” she says, drawing you into an embrace. “My brilliant, beautiful, officially-graduated girl.”

You squeeze her back, chuckling into her shoulder. “I didn’t trip walking across the stage.”

Ben lays a palm over his heart. “Truly, a miracle. She’s grown.”

You sneak into the seat opposite from him, your cap tucked under your arm, your graduation case still grasped like someone would take it back.

“I feel like I should get a trophy for surviving that many speeches,” you add, laying the certificate on the table.

May chuckles, eyes gleaming. “You did great. You seemed so calm up there.”

“I was internally screaming,” you acknowledge.

“Still looked good doing it,” Ben says.

You smile, soft, bashful. “Thanks, guys.”

A server drops by to deliver you menus, but you wave yours off. “I already know what I want.”

Ben laughs. “Same grilled cheese you’ve ordered since fifth grade?”

“Why mess with a classic?”

You slump back into the old vinyl of the booth, letting yourself breathe for the first time all day. The walls of the café are yellowed from time, and the linoleum flooring creak under sneakers when the crew goes by. A couple of toddlers are fighting about jelly packets at an adjacent table. The Coke machine hisses behind the counter. It’s all so natural.

And for a second, you forget you’re standing on the verge of something new.

The meal arrives swiftly. Grilled cheese, delicately crisped. Crinkle fries, shared between you and May. Ben’s burger is too huge for one hand, and he gets mustard on his shirt inside the first five minutes.

It’s perfect. Comforting.

“Flash tripped,” May says mid-bite, and you snort.

“I know. He almost took out three people with him.”

Ben shakes his head. “That boy’s gonna become a joke someday. I can feel it.”

You grin. “He already is.”

The laughing fades slowly, and for a minute, you all just eat in silence. Until May leans over and gently nudges the diploma case on the table.

“Feels real now, doesn’t it?”

You nod. “A little.”

Ben observes you closely. “How are you holding up?”

You pause.

And shrug. “Weird. Good-weird. A little afraid. Kinda floaty.”

“That’s about right,” he adds. “Floaty’s normal.”

“I keep thinking I’m going to wake up and it’ll still be senior year,” you say. “Like all of this is some long fever dream.”

May hums. “If it is, it’s a pretty good one.”

You nod, then peek out the window, watching the tail lights burn red in the parking lot, the streetlamp flickering along the sidewalk where you used to ride your bike in figure-eights.

They don’t bring up Mark right away. But you can feel it coming. The question is floating there, dangling in the gap between bits of food and sips of milkshake. And then, eventually, when May folds her napkin neatly next her plate, she says it.

“So... we saw Mark.”

You keep your focus on your fries. “Yeah?”

“Before the ceremony,” Ben adds. “He was with his parents. Looked nervous.”

You grin faintly. “He doesn’t like crowds.”

“He kept looking for you,” May adds gently.

You peek up, just for a second. You nod slowly. “Yeah. He did.”

That’s all you say. That’s all they want. They don’t push. And let it be.

The check comes. Ben attempts to wave it off. You grasp it. May intercepts. Eventually, the server just splits it without asking.

You stroll out onto the parking lot, the air heavy with that delicious, post-rain smell, concrete and fresh grass and something electric that always comes with summer nights. The wind plays with the edges of your robe, the cap clasped in your hands now instead of placed uncomfortably on your head.

May hugs you again, slower this time.

“You did it, kid,” she murmurs. “You’re already braver than I ever was.”

You put your face onto her shoulder. “You raised me. So that tracks.”

Ben pulls you into a hug after, tighter than usual. He doesn’t say anything. He just pats your back, then kisses the top of your head as he did when you were seven and skinned your leg on the concrete.

And then they hand you the keys.

“You’re driving?” you inquire.

“Just once,” Ben adds. “You earned it.”

You grin and take them.

The engine growls to life beneath your fingertips.

The headlights slashed across the lot.

May gets into the passenger seat, her hair gleaming white beneath the dashboard light. Ben gets into the back. You take the long way home, past the school, past the restaurant, past the park where you once fell off the swings because you were showing off for a boy you don’t even remember now.

No one talks much. But the calm is lovely. Real. Safe.

Later, you’re cuddled up in bed, cap and gown hanging on the back of your door, when your phone buzzes.

> how was dinner?

You type.

> good

Mark replies quickly.

> did they ask about me?

You reply just as fast.

> kinda. but i didn’t say anything. not yet. not because i’m ashamed of you or anything. just... because it still seems like ours. and i want to keep it for me a bit longer.

Mark replies.

> i’m yours anyway take all the time you need

You gaze at the screen.

And you know what it is to have something that no one else has to comprehend. Not yet. Not right now. Just something that exists between text messages and lingering stares and shared milkshakes after the sun goes set.

The first thing you notice when you come on campus is the loudness.

Move-in day is exactly what everyone told it would be, horns blasting, trolleys squeaking, parents hollering directions over one another, someone shrieking over a mattress that’s missing and another youngster who’s obviously already locked themselves out of their room.

The third level smells like paint, hot carpets, and too many expectations jammed into too-small apartments.

Mark’s lugging a package labeled “DO NOT CRUSH,” and you’re following him with a laundry hamper that should legally require a forklift.

“Third floor,” Mark mutters. “No elevator. Of course.”

“You’re the one who said we should take the stairs for the ‘real dorm experience,’” you huff. “I’m currently experiencing the early stages of spinal collapse.”

He flashes you a grin. “Worth it.”

You nearly drop the hamper on his foot.

Room 3B is already open.

Inside, the place looks like a battle zone, half-unpacked books, a rolled-up poster of Seance Dog, a lava lamp, and a desk strewn with receipts and takeout menus. Sitting in the center of it all, arms crossed, is a guy with thick wavy hair and a look like he’s just done analyzing your moral integrity.

“You’re late,” he says.

“Love you too,” Mark answers without skipping a beat.

You blink. William Clockwell stands, wiping chip crumbs off his shirt. “I was beginning to think you’d chickened out of college entirely.”

“Please. I’d never leave you unsupervised in a shared living space.”

“Wise. You’d come back to a fort built up of Pringles cans and overdue library fines.”

Mark drops the box on his bed with a bang and turns to you. “Meet William. My best friend since first grade. He’s a threat. Don’t trust him with your password or your Netflix account.”

William’s already eyeing you. Not in a scary way, more like a scientist exploring an unexpected variable.

You offer your hand. “Nice to finally meet you. I’ve heard... a lot.”

“All of it true,” William says, shaking it. “And most of it flattering. You, however... you’re the famed accomplice?”

You raise an eyebrow. “Accomplice?”

“The one who helped him pull off that science fair stunt in senior year?”

Mark moans. “Don’t start.”

“I still think that lava is a questionable project theme for teenagers.”

You laugh. “It was definitely not up to code.”

William grins. “I like you already.”

Move-in goes swiftly, surprisingly rapid, since Mark has the organizational skills of a dropped ice cream cone. You hang posters, plug in chargers, uncover his lost headphones tucked beneath a package of granola bars. William occasionally offers in color commentary, largely to keep Mark modest.

“You realize half your shirts are inside out, right?”

“I fold with my soul, not my hands.”

“You fold like a raccoon on Adderall.”

You like William. He’s got a sharp tongue, but there’s something stable behind it, something loyal. You can tell he’d go to war for Mark if he had to. Probably with a clipboard and a thorough sarcasm itinerary. Eventually, he leaves to call his parents, and the room falls quiet.

Mark crashes into the bed like a ragdoll. You sit on the edge near him.

“You okay?” you ask.

He nods. “It’s weird. I’ve known this was coming for years, and now that it’s here, I keep thinking I overlooked something.”

“Like what?”

He shrugs. “I dunno. Something back in high school. Some part of me that didn’t get packed.”

You smack your shoulder with his. “It’s probably wedged under your bed with all the missing socks.”

He snorts. “Probably. I’m glad you’re here.”

“I wasn’t going to miss this.”

“I mean... not just for move-in.”

You look at him. And he looks at you.

“I know you’re not living on campus,” he continues. “And I get why. But selfishly? I’m still gonna miss you.”

“You’ll see me all the time.”

“I’ll still miss you.”

You smile. Then lean in and kiss him, gently and assured. When William steps back in, he doesn’t even flinch. He only raises an eyebrow.

“Should I knock next time?”

Mark doesn’t flinch. “Probably.”

You draw back and stroke the bed beside you. “We were talking about how messy your half is.”

William grins. “A true bonding moment.”

Then he tosses a granola bar at Mark’s head. “Also, I stole your pillow. Yours smells like stress. Mine smells like ambition.”

Mark rolls his eyes, but he’s smiling. And William’s smiling too. Because they’ve been doing this forever. And now? You’re part of it too.

The email enters your inbox at 8:03 a.m. on a Tuesday.

You’re sitting at the kitchen counter at May and Ben’s house, still in your pajamas, hair jammed into a sloppy bun and a bowl of cereal halfway to your lips when you notice the subject line.

OSCORP SCIENCE SUMMIT: TRAVEL DETAILS + FINAL PRESENTATION SCHEDULE

The spoon doesn’t make it to your mouth.

You gaze at the screen for a whole thirty seconds before you even open it. Then your heart does this odd fluttering thing like excitement and sickness got together and decided to have a party in your ribs.

You scan the first few lines.

It’s official. You’re going.

Three days, all-expense paid. Two nights at a hotel you’ve never heard of. Formal dress necessary. Your name is on the list of junior interns presenting in the Friday morning breakout session titled: Next-Gen Bio-Application Engineering: Theoretical Pathways to Active Adaptives.

Which is a clever way of saying “the tiny tech you helped patch together on week two might actually be used in something real someday.”

You scroll down deeper and freeze at the sentence in bold.

"Guest passes available. Bring someone to support you."

You reread it. Then again. And one more time, like the words may transform into something else if you stare too closely. Your brain’s already finished the thought before you do. Mark.

You wait to bring it up. Not because you’re worried he’ll say no. You know him. He would say yes to everything you asked, even if it included three hours of lab lectures and the world’s most terrible folding chairs. No, the reluctance isn’t about doubt.

It’s about timing. Because college is already its own type of storm. You’re commuting. Juggling. Oscorp in the mornings, courses in the afternoons, late-night homework cuddled up on the couch with Ben napping in the next room and May softly bringing you tea without asking if you’re overwhelmed. Because she knows. Of course she does.

Mark, on the other hand, is living dorm life, fully absorbed. Sharing a room with William, childhood best buddy and snark personified. Navigating early lectures, social circles, and the continuous circle of dining hall food complaints. You see him virtually every day, sometimes between classes, sometimes beneath the quad tree you informally claimed in week one. You bring food. He brings coffee. It works.

You just haven’t found the right time yet. Not till Friday night.

His dorm is noisy when you come. Not party-loud. Just friends in college-loud. William’s got music playing, something instrumental, symphonic and dramatic and slightly sci-fi, and he’s rearranging the bookcase with the seriousness of a man prepping for combat.

Mark greets you at the door with a grin and a bag of peanut M&Ms. You collapse on his bed. He sits next you, half on, half off, long legs splayed out, shoulders crushed to yours. William barely looks over.

“Tell me you’re here to stop him from putting his entire sock collection under the bed.”

“I’m here for the candy,” you reply. “The sock situation is between you two and your God.”

Mark laughs. “It’s fine. I just lost, like, three.”

William tosses a book onto the shelf with a thump. “He’s making a sock graveyard and calling it neat.”

You grin, but it flickers. Because now the moment is arrived. And your heart’s already straining to race ahead of your words. Mark notices quickly.

He leans in a little. “What’s up?”

You grab your phone from your sweatshirt pocket and deliver it to him, the email still open on the screen. He scans it rapidly.

“Wait—this is... you’re presenting? At a science conference?”

You nod.

“I thought Oscorp just had you cleaning stuff and filing data sheets.”

“I did,” you say. “Until they realized I actually know how to think.”

He glances up. “That’s huge.”

“Yeah,” you answer gently. “It kind of is.”

He keeps reading, eyes searching the lines until he reaches to the bold one. 'Guest passes available. Bring someone to support you.' He glances at you. You try not to fidget.

“I was going to ask,” you say, a bit too hastily. “I mean, it’s just a couple days. You’d get a badge and everything. Probably sit through boring panels, but there’s a mixer night and some showcase things. And the hotel has free breakfast. I think.”

He’s already nodding.

“Wait—really?”

“Of course.”

You blink.

“That was fast.”

Mark lays the phone aside and nudges your knee with his. “You’re kind of a big deal. I want to see you be a big deal.”

Your face gets heated.

William clears his throat without glancing over. “I’m emotionally moved. Truly. Let me know when to trigger the romantic strings.”

Mark flips a pillow at his face. “You’re not invited.”

William catches it midair. “Wouldn’t go. Too many scientists. I prefer my heartbreaks abstract.”

You and Mark broke out laughing. Later, after William’s gone to the lounge to microwave something, and Mark’s sweeping crumbs off the blanket, you lean against him again.

“You’re really okay with going?”

“More than okay.”

“I might be a mess.”

“I’ll bring tissues.”

“I might drag you into science debates.”

He shrugs. “You’ll win.”

“I might panic the morning of.”

Mark leans down and joins his fingers with yours.

“Then I’ll be there. Exactly when you need me.”

You grip his hand. And for the first time since the email arrived, you genuinely believe it.

The suitcase won’t close.

You press down with both hands, knees braced against the side of Mark’s dorm bed, biting your bottom lip like somehow that’ll make the zipper listen. It doesn’t. Mark steps in just as you let out a noise halfway between a moan and a battle cry.

“Need help?”

“No,” you reply between tight teeth. “Yes. Absolutely. I’m a disgrace to physics and rubix cubes.”

He grins, lays his coffee down on the desk, and crosses the room. You sit back and let him take charge. He doesn’t even flinch at the amount of clothes flowing over the edge.

“What did you bring? Five days’ worth of clothes for a three-day trip?”

“I need options.”

He raises an eyebrow. “How many ‘options’ are made of this much wool?”

“That’s my presentation blazer.”

“You brought three.”

“They’re different colors!”

He manages to pull the zipper halfway when one corner of a collar gets hooked, and he groans in feigned discomfort. “This feels like a test.”

You smirk. “It is.”

“You’re evil.”

“And yet here you are, helping me.”

He gets the bag closed on the third time, straightens himself, and mock-wipes perspiration off his forehead. “That’s love.”

“Don’t think I didn’t see you slip an entire shoebox of chips into your backpack.”

“Conference food is a lie and I refuse to starve.”

You giggle, then slump back onto the bed. Mark lies alongside you, the springs squeaking slightly beneath his weight. From across the room, William speaks out without turning away from his laptop. “For the record, this is the most hetero rom-com shit I’ve seen all week.”

“Thank you, William,” you say without raising your head.

“I strive for accuracy.”

Mark rolls his eyes. “Ignore him.”

“Oh, I do. Daily.”

William flicks a pencil into the air and catches it. “Try not to make a scene at the conference. I don’t want to get a call stating you threw your jacket at someone during a panel discussion.”

“Only if they deserve it.”

Mark tilts his head toward you. “You nervous?”

You shrug. “A little. I mean, it’s Oscorp. And I’m not even technically a complete intern yet. I’m still under review.”

“You’ve got this.”

“You have to say that. You’re legally bound as my supportive moral rock.”

He leans forward, pressing a kiss on your temple. “Yeah. But I also mean it.”

You close your eyes. Breathe in. And for a second, the anxieties settle. That night, you stop by May and Ben’s to grab the remainder of your belongings. Your trip suitcase sits on your bed, folded clothing pouring out like your closet burst in slow motion. May leans against the doorframe, arms crossed, watching you with that mom expression, fond and amused and somewhat frightened.

“That’s a lot of clothes for three days.”

“I need backup outfits. Blazers. Professional things. Emergency snacks.”

“You sounded like me before my first teaching conference.”

You turn, holding up two virtually identical coats. “Be honest. Which says ‘young but intelligent up-and-comer’ and not ‘sweaty undergrad who could faint during Q&A’?”

May tilts her head. “The one on the left. But bring both. Just in case.”

You grin and slip both into your carry-on.

Ben pops his head in a minute later with your printed itinerary. “Highlight the address. And the emergency number. And don’t eat anything off of a strangely unmarked buffet tray.”

“You’re projecting,” you mumble.

Ben winks. “Yes. Because I once had food poisoning at a tech convention and had to lie down under a folding table for two hours. Don’t repeat my sins.”

You giggle, then grab for your charger and zip up the final bag.

May steps closer. “You’re ready for this, you know.”

“Yeah?”

She nods. “You’ve been ready for a while. You’re just now having the room to prove it.”

You feel something constrict in your neck. “Thanks.”

“Take notes. Make eye contact. And for the love of God, don’t drink coffee before you speak.”

“Not even one cup?”

She raises an eyebrow.

“...Half a cup?”

“Fine. Half.”

Ben tosses in, “You call us if anything weird happens. If the hotel’s suspicious or they lose your badge or you feel weird, you call.”

“I will.”

You mean it. You embrace them both at the door.

May lingers just a little longer, smoothing your hair back and whispers, “I’m proud of you.”

The airport is pandemonium. You anticipated it to be bad, it’s early morning, middle of the week, and every airport is full with business travelers and Oscorp interns in wrinkled blazers, but this? This is something else. The type of travel day that makes you rethink every decision that lead to this point.

You and Mark make it through security fairly unhurt, though your tote bag gets flagged and they yank out your backup phone charger like it’s a nuclear weapon. He laughs to the TSA agent about you being a “dangerous scientist” and you answer by flicking his ear once you’re free of the conveyor belt.

“I’m never traveling with you again,” you murmur, shouldering your suitcase.

“Bold of you to assume I won’t save your life at least twice on this trip,” he answers with a grin.

It’s still early enough that your mind feels hazy, like your ideas are wrapped in fog. But you’ve got your boarding pass, your coffee, and the boy who makes you forget your own tension standing beside you, so you can’t complain too much. Not out loud, anyhow. You board in group C.

No frills. No improvements. Just economy seats, an air freshener that smells like lemon floor cleaner, and exactly six wailing babies within hearing range. You slide your carry-on beneath the seat, buckle your belt, and peek sideways. Mark's already glancing out the window, fingers tapping softly against the armrest. His leg is bouncing. He hasn’t even taken off his bag yet.

“You okay?” you ask.

He startles. Just a bit.

Then nods. “Yeah. Just... not a big fan of flying.”

You tilt your head. “Really?”

He shrugs. “I mean, I’ve done it. Vacations. Visiting family. But it’s never... comfortable.”

You nod, taking him at his word. There's something weirdly appealing about the idea that Mark Grayson, your easygoing, always-has-a-snack boyfriend, gets frightened on an airplane.

“Do you want the aisle instead?”

“No,” he responds hastily. “I’m good here. Just... could be quiet for a bit.”

You smile. “I won’t hold it against you.”

You reach over and hold his hand, giving it a slight squeeze. He squeezes back. Doesn’t let go. Takeoff is tough. The normal lurch. The little dip. The odd quiet before the engines scream.

Mark holds the armrest with his free hand, mouth tight. You keep your eyes on the window, chatting gently about absolutely anything else, how bizarre the hotel itinerary was, if Oscorp really required four distinct lanyard colors, whether your presentation slide backdrop is too dark for a morning panel.

By the time you achieve cruising altitude, he’s breathing easier.

“Still with me?” you ask.

He nods. “Yeah. Just... odd to not have control, you know?”

You don’t question it. You don’t realize how much that statement means to him. Not yet. You fall into a groove. You bring out your laptop to examine your presentations for the tenth time. Mark pulls out a sketchpad. He claims he brought it for note-taking, but you know better. About half an hour in, you peek over and discover he’s sketching. You’re not surprised, he’s usually doodling on discarded napkins or the margins of lecture notes, but this sketch is different.

It’s you.

Focused. Half-turned toward the window. Elbows on your tray table, face lighted by the illumination of your laptop.

“You’re drawing me again,” you mumble.

Mark doesn’t look up. “You always make a good subject.”

“Flattering.”

“Factual.”

You smirk, but you don’t push. You just let him sketch. There’s something calming about it. Something grounding. You go back to your slides. You make a few notes.

And when you put your head against the window a short time later, you close your eyes and let the hum of the engine cloud everything else. The open seat fills around forty minutes in, middle-aged man, Bluetooth headphone, travel pillow that smells like a retirement home. He nods pleasantly and instantly falls asleep with a snoring. You and Mark gaze at each other. His lips twitch. You mouth, help me.

He grins and inserts one earpiece into your palm. “White noise playlist. You’re welcome.”

You grab it and lean toward him. He doesn’t move away. Somewhere over the mountains, you start chatting about Oscorp.

“I don’t want to screw this up,” you mumble. “It’s my first real shot at being taken seriously in the field. And I’m not even a complete intern yet. If I mess up this presentation...”

“You won’t,” he adds simply.

“You can’t know that.”

“I do,” he answers. “Because you’re better at this than anyone else in that building. And so even if you trip over your words or forget what slide you’re on, they’re still going to remember you.”

You gaze at him.

“Because I’m a mess?”

He grins. “Because you’re the kind of mess that builds things.”

You don’t say anything. You don’t have to. You just let your hand slip into his again, and hold on.

When the flight attendant passes with beverages, you both grab ginger ale. You divide a bag of pretzels. You make silly jokes about cloud forms. He sketches a bit more, this time a window full of stars and a silhouette that looks disturbingly like you.

You rest your head on his shoulder after that. He leans into you. And you doze there, someplace between time zones, somewhere above everything else. The instant you step out of the gate and into the rush of arrivals, you feel it. Not simply the dry, over-conditioned airport air or the soreness in your shoulder from carrying your bag but the prickling awareness that something’s going to happen.

And then you see him. Tall. Hair blown from the breeze flowing in via the automated doors. Expensive sunglasses sat on top of his head. One hand in his pocket, the other carrying a tablet. Leaning nonchalantly against a pillar like he’s posing for a GQ piece he pretends he doesn’t know he’s in.

Harry. You halt mid-step. Your heart leaps.

“Holy crap,” you murmur.

Mark glances at you. “What is it?”

You don’t answer. You don’t need to. You’re already moving. You run to him. Not fast. Not theatrical. Just real. Like your body chose before your mind did. Harry glances up just in time. And suddenly your arms are around him.

“Whoa-!” He drops the tablet, startled, but then he’s holding you back, tight, one arm around your waist and the other wrapped protectively behind your head.

“God, you’re alive,” you whisper into his shoulder.

Harry laughs, shaky and full of something old and familiar. “I’m alive? You’re the one who vanished into Oscorp’s basement for six months.”

You don’t let go right away. Neither does he. When you eventually move back, your hands are still on his arms, and his are still ghosting over your ribs like he’s terrified you could disappear again.

“You’re taller,” you say.

“You’re lying.”

“You look exhausted.”

“Okay, that one’s fair.”

He grins. And you realize you missed that grin more than you realized. Mark approaches a few seconds later. He doesn’t interrupt. But you sense him standing there. Close, quiet. You turn to him, cheeks heated.

“Mark, this is Harry. Harry, this is Mark.”

Harry reaches out a hand. “Harry Osborn.”

Mark shakes it. “Mark Grayson.”

There’s a beat. Then Harry’s smile curves just a bit. “Boyfriend, right?”

Mark blinks. “Uh. Yeah.”

You nod swiftly. “Yeah.”

Harry glances at you. Then at Mark.

“Cool,” he says. Smooth. Even. Nothing in his speech gives anything away. “Nice to finally meet you.”

Mark’s jaw tics once. “Same.”

You fold your arms, still beaming, trying not to jump on your heels. “What are you doing here? I thought you were upstate for prep.”

“Was. Came back yesterday night. They required someone to organize arrival. I volunteered.”

You blink. “You volunteered to be my glorified chauffeur?”

Harry shrugs. “I’m owed a few favors. Plus, I get to make you uncomfortable for the next three days. Win-win.”

You laugh. It’s the type of chuckle that leaves you a bit breathless. And behind you, Mark adjusts his weight. Harry notices. Of course he does. He tilts his head, gaze moving between the two of you. His smile doesn’t fade, but it steadies. Calibrates.

“You guys get any sleep on the flight?”

“A little,” you say. “He passed out. I went over my slides till I hated them.”

“Typical.”

“I’m very productive when miserable.”

“Is that why you did all your AP Chem homework during a stomach bug in eleventh grade?”

“Don’t remind me.”

Harry turns to the luxury car sitting at the curb. “Come on. I’ve got the luggage already loaded. Hotel’s fifteen minutes out.”

The ride is quieter. You and Harry talk, filling the stillness with inside jokes and tiny recollections. Mark listens. He doesn’t insert himself, doesn’t attempt to compete. But you can sense him thinking. When you gaze at him, he grins. But it’s a touch tighter than normal. Outside the hotel, Harry pulls your bag from the trunk before you can resist.

“Still allergic to letting people carry things for you,” he says.

“Still refusing to let me pull my weight.”

“That’s because you’re still made of string cheese and spite.”

You smack his shoulder. Mark lingers at your side. You can almost hear the silent question emerging.

Harry glanced at the check-in counter. “I’ll go confirm your rooms.”

And suddenly he’s gone. You and Mark are alone again. And the quiet between you is weighted.

“You okay?” you ask quietly.

Mark nods. “Yeah. Just... I didn’t know how close you two were.”

You pause.

“We’ve known each other since kindergarten,” you say. “He’s family. Not in a romantic way. Just... he’s always been there.”

Mark nods again. But he doesn’t say anything else. You grab his hand. He takes it. And squeezes. But his eyes linger on the door Harry just disappeared through. You gaze at your reflection for longer than you mean to.

Your hotel room mirror is too clean, too harsh under the LED lights. Your hands are firm, but only because you’ve previously practiced every action five times. Blazer on. Lip balm. One final breath. You look nice. You look prepared. You don’t feel prepared.

The presentation isn’t till tomorrow, but Oscorp’s giving a formal supper tonight to welcome all their younger researchers, mentors, and visitors. A pre-conference “casual professional” gathering. The sort that’s theoretically optional, but not really. You know better than to skip it.

Mark is waiting in the hallway when you step out of your room. He glances up and genuinely blinks.

You halt, feeling self-conscious. “Too much?”

He shakes his head, slow. “No. You look...”

You raise a brow.

“...Insanely smart,” he finishes. “Like someone who’s way too smart for me and could prove it without even trying.”

You laugh. “That’s the goal.”

He extends out his arm. You link yours through his. And together, you head down. The banquet space Oscorp leased is obnoxiously lovely. Soft jazz sounds over ceiling speakers. Waiters in black vests hover around offering trays of sparkling water and bite-sized fusion dishes no one can recognize by look alone. The house smells like fresh carpet and expensive aftershave.

You see Harry almost immediately. He’s toward the front of the room, speaking with an older man in a fitted three-piece suit. He catches your eye mid-sentence, and his smile transforms instantaneously. Real. Bright.

He excuses himself, strides directly for you.

“Damn,” he exclaims, grabbing you into a hug. “You clean up good.”

You laugh. “You’ve seen me in a lab coat and stained hoodies. This isn’t a high bar.”

Mark stands next to you, quiet, smiling as nicely as he can.

Harry turns to him. “Grayson.”

“Osborn.”

They shake hands. It’s not unfriendly. But it’s not warm, either.

“Glad you could make it,” Harry adds, his tone level.

Mark nods. “Wouldn’t miss it.”

You feel it. The weight of their words. The way they glance at each other for a second too long.

You cut in swiftly. “Are we sitting? Or do I have to elbow someone for a table?”

Harry grins again. “Come on. I reserved you a spot.”

You’re seated between them. Harry on your right, Mark on your left, the table full of Oscorp interns and mid-level academics sipping wine like it’s just grape juice and mumbling names you dimly know from science papers.

Mark doesn’t speak much. He listens. Observes. His hand keeps resting on his thigh. Yours finds it midway through the appetizers. Harry’s talking to someone across from you about your project as if he developed it himself. He name-drops your work with ease, familiarity, even pride.

You’re not sure if it’s flattering or suffocating.

“You should’ve seen her in the early stages,” he continues. “She caught a pattern in the test batches that even the senior team missed. Half of the engineering pivot happened because she caught it first.”

The researcher, someone named Dr. Li, nods appreciatively. “Impressive.”

Mark glances at you. You grasp his hand under the table.

Dinner is a flurry of voices and clinking glass.

Harry chats. Laughs. Teases you. Reminds you of the time you blew up a beaker in tenth grade chem and attempted to blame it on a draft. Reminds you of when you fell asleep in AP Bio and drooled over your textbook. You laugh along. But you can feel Mark’s quiet. Not cold. Just... distant. He doesn’t interrupt. He doesn’t challenge. He doesn’t lean in or crack jokes the way he typically does. When the dessert comes, some fancy chocolate swirl with a name you can’t pronounce, he finally moves near.

“You okay?” he whispers. You gaze sideways.

“I think so.”

“You seem quiet.”

You hesitate.

Then. “You do too.”

He smiles, warm and crooked. “Just watching.”

You push your knee against his under the table.

“I’m glad you’re here.”

He glances at you.

“I am too.”

The night finishes gradually. People wander out. Harry sticks behind to chat with a few execs. You and Mark stroll outside into the quiet hotel courtyard, where the air is cooler and the lights are dimmer. You lean on a railing. He stands by you.

“I think I’ve eaten seventeen thousand calories in stress,” you say.

Mark laughs. “Worth it.”

You gaze up at him.

“You okay?”

“Yeah.”

You nudge him. “You sure?”

He nods. “It’s just weird.”

“What is?”

He exhales, brushing a palm over his face. “Seeing you like this. In your element. With people who’ve known you forever. And I’m... the new guy.”

You step in closer. “You’re not just the new guy.”

Mark looks at you. Really looks. And the anguish flickers there for only a second.

“You hugged him like you forgot I was there.”

You blink. “ Mark-”

“I get it,” he says. “You guys have history. I’m not trying to damage that. I just... I think I didn’t expect to feel so on the outside.”

You swallow. “I’m sorry.”

“You don’t have to be.”

“I want to be.”

He leans on the railing now, viewing the stars. You stand beside him. And say nothing. Because it’s not about jealousy. It’s about space. And who fills it. And who doesn’t.

You barely speak a word during the elevator ride. The silver doors glide shut with a gentle hiss, trapping you and Mark in with mirrored walls and soft overhead lighting that makes your reflections appear like strangers.

Your feet hurt. Your head is noisy. And you can sense him standing just slightly aside from you, not far, not frigid, but... far enough to notice. The elevator dings quietly. You lead the way out. Room 1024. Your room. You key in gently and enter inside, the subtle click of the door behind you making the whole suite feel 10 times quieter than it did this morning.

Mark follows you in, letting the door close gently behind him. You kick off your shoes. Your blazer lands on the back of the desk chair. He waits near the doorway, arms folded, watching you move.

“I’m gonna shower,” you say gently. “Wash the Oscorp off.”

Mark nods.

You disappear into the restroom before he can say anything else. You stand under the hot water until your fingers wrinkle. Not because it’s chilly. Not because you’re exhausted. Because it’s all finally catching up to you.

The dinner. The pressure. Harry’s return. Mark’s peaceful remoteness. Tomorrow’s presentation.

You’ve been holding it together all day, smiling, nodding, networking. Laughing too loud as Harry taunts you. Squeezing Mark’s hand under the table to make up for all the words you didn’t know how to speak out loud.

And now? You’re just... afraid. The type of afraid that doesn’t always have words. When you emerge out of the restroom in an enormous Oscorp T-shirt and bare feet, Mark’s still awake.

He’s sitting on the side of the bed, scrolling absently through something on his phone, hair unkempt from running his fingers through it too many times.

He glances up when he hears you.  And grins. Small. Tired.

You sit next him. He puts the phone down.

“I’m sorry,” you mumble.

Mark turns slightly. “For what?”

You gaze at your hands.

“For hugging him like that. For making you feel like a third wheel. I didn’t mean to.”

Mark doesn’t answer right away. But he doesn’t move away either.

“I’m not mad,” he says finally.

“I know.”

“It’s just... hard to feel like I’m still catching up. Like you and he share a language I don’t speak.”

You nod slowly. “We kind of do.”

He glances at you. You don’t flinch.

“I wasn’t easy to be friends with. I was awkward, and weird, and talked too much about things no one cared about. I wasn’t-” you swallow, blinking fast, “I wasn’t the kind of person people stuck around for.”

Your throat tightens, but you push through it.

“But he did. Even when he didn’t have to. Even when everyone else grew up and got cooler and louder and better… Harry never treated me like I was something he’d outgrown.”

You bite the inside of your cheek, fighting for steady breath.

“When I bombed that exam and thought it meant I’d never be good enough… when Flash made me feel like I was nothing… When I hated even looking in a mirror, Harry was the one who showed up. He didn’t try to fix it. He just sat there. Just stayed.”

You finally glance up, and it’s harder than you expect, because Mark’s there, listening. Really listening.

“I’m not… I’m not saying it like it’s some big thing. I just-” your voice wavers, fragile and messy, “I guess I’m scared. That maybe… if people could outgrow me back then… it could happen again.”

You blink hard, shoulders stiff, trying to pretend like you’re fine. But your voice is too small when you add, almost too soft to hear.

“I don’t wanna lose you too.”

Mark doesn’t interrupt. You suck in a breath, trying to steady yourself. Mark doesn’t say anything at first. He doesn’t have to. He’s sitting close enough that you can feel the warmth of him, solid and steady and right there. Not moving away. You drop your eyes to the comforter again, cheeks burning for a whole new reason.

“And just so you don’t get the wrong idea…” you mumble, your voice low but honest, “I don’t feel that way about Harry. I never have.”

The words sit there for a second, heavier than you meant them to be.

You risk a glance up, half-expecting him to look mad or jealous, but Mark’s just… looking at you. Soft. Real.

“He’s my best friend,” you add, quieter. “But you’re… different.”

You don’t know if he hears the full meaning of that. You don’t even know if you could say it out loud yet. And he stays right there. He hesitates.

“You sure about that?”

You glance up. Not defensive. Just honest.

“I know what I feel. And it’s not for him.”

Mark scans your face. Then nods.  And eventually relaxes a little. You cuddle into the pillows. Mark lays alongside you. Not touching yet. But close. The hotel room is quiet save for the hum of the air vent and the faint shuffling of linens. You pull the cover up to your chin and look at the ceiling.

“I’m scared,” you mumble.

Mark doesn’t pretend not to hear you.

“Of tomorrow?”

“Of messing up. Of freezing. Of speaking the wrong thing. Of them realizing I’m just a kid who got lucky.”

He turns toward you.

“Hey.”

You don’t look at him.

“You’re not lucky,” he adds gently. “You’re good. You worked for this. You earned it.”

You still don’t speak. So he leans out and takes your hand. And suddenly you can breathe again.

“You’re going to get up there tomorrow,” he adds. “And you're going to do exactly what you’ve always done, blow people away and forget that they scare you the moment you start talking.”

“You make it sound easy.”

“Because I believe in you.”

You eventually gaze at him. And he’s still gazing at you. Like you’re the only thing that matters.

In a bit, the lights go out. The city lights dimly through the drapes. You lie in the dark, eyes open. Mark’s breathing is steady. You shift closer.

Your fingers are still tangled loosely with his beneath the blanket, and you finally glance at him, heart doing its awkward little somersault thing when you catch how soft his expression looks. He must feel you staring, because he turns his head a bit and meets your gaze.

“I didn’t know how to bring it up. With Harry and everything.” you murmur.

He exhales, long and slow. “I didn’t wanna say anything either. I mean, it's not like I didn’t trust you or whatever. It just… felt like I was watching something I wasn’t part of.”

You chew on the inside of your cheek for a second. “I get it. If I were you, I’d have felt the same way.”

Mark’s mouth quirks, almost a smile. “I was sitting there next to you, nodding along like an idiot while Harry’s talking about the time you both got banned from a Six Flags for hacking the rollercoaster music system.”

You groan, pressing your face into the blanket. “That was one time. And we didn’t get banned, we got strongly discouraged from returning.”

He laughs, and it’s real now, quiet, but warm. “I dunno. He made it sound like they were gonna put your faces on a watchlist.”

You grin against the sheets, heart hammering a little too fast again, but not from embarrassment anymore. From something else. Something hopeful. You lift your face, your voice going soft again.

“You know none of that means anything, right? I mean… not like this means something.”

His eyes meet yours, and they’re so open it almost knocks the breath out of you.

“Yeah,” he says quietly. “I know now.”

The silence between you tightens again, but this time it’s charged in a completely different way. You shift a little closer, your thigh brushing his under the blankets. His fingers curl tighter around yours. Your voice comes out smaller than you expect.

“Can I… kiss you?”

Mark’s eyes widen just a little, his breath catching. Then he nods, barely more than a breath. “Yeah. Definitely.”

You lean in slowly, your pulse a roar in your ears, every nerve in your body dialed up. You’ve never been good at this. Kissing. Intimacy. It’s not that you haven’t wanted it. You’ve just never been sure how to get there. But Mark’s there, waiting, and when your lips meet his, it’s soft. Gentle. More of a brush than a kiss. You pull back, half-expecting to have fumbled it, but he’s already chasing after you with a smile.

“Hey,” he murmurs, his voice barely above a whisper. “Come back.”

You do. The second kiss lingers longer. Still soft, but with more intention. Your nose bumps his and your hand accidentally catches his chest in a weird, flat-palmed way that makes you both laugh against each other’s mouths. It’s not perfect. It’s better. It’s you.

He kisses you again, and this time you relax into it, fingers finding his shirt and curling there for something to hold onto. His lips move against yours like he’s not in a rush but doesn’t want to stop either. You part your lips, testing the waters, and when his tongue brushes yours, it sends a thrill down your spine you didn’t expect. You make a small sound, a surprised, involuntary gasp, and Mark pulls back just a little, checking your eyes like he's making sure you’re still with him.

“You okay?” he asks, voice husky, his hand sliding up to cradle the side of your face.

You nod, breathless. “Yeah. Just… new.”

His smile softens into something tender. “That’s okay. We can go slow. I’m not going anywhere.”

You nod again, your hand now sliding under the edge of his shirt, fingers brushing the bare skin of his side. It’s warmer than you expected. He leans in again, kissing you deeper now. You shift closer, until your leg is draped over his, your chest pressed lightly to his, and god, the way it feels to have his body against yours makes your brain completely short-circuit.

You don’t even realize how much time has passed, how many kisses. Everything’s a blur of soft mouths, breathless sounds, hands that explore in halting, reverent paths. He’s not rushing. He’s matching your pace, like he’s reading your mind. Every movement, every graze of his thumb on your cheek or the slow drag of his palm down your side, it’s all careful, respectful, but electric.

Your lips are swollen now, flushed and tender from the growing intensity of every kiss, every breathless gasp between them. You’ve lost track of how long you’ve been like this, tangled up in one another, kissing until the rest of the world faded down to the warmth of Mark’s body and the way he makes you feel like you’re the only thing that matters.

His hand is on your waist, fingertips digging into the soft cotton of your sleep shirt, and yours is fisted in the fabric of his tee, pulling him closer every time his mouth meets yours like you need more of him. The air around you feels thicker, heavier. Charged.

You shift again, instinctively, your thigh pressing more firmly between his legs, and that’s when you feel it. The slow, aching pressure of his hardness through his pajama pants, against your leg. The awareness of it hits both of you at once. You freeze, barely a breath away from his mouth, and he exhales through his nose, shuddering.

“Shit,” he whispers, blinking at you like he wasn’t expecting this either. “That—wasn’t on purpose. I swear.”

You swallow. “I know.”

Neither of you moves for a second. Then your voice, quieter, more raw, “It’s okay. I… don’t want to stop.”

His eyes flick over your face like he’s trying to find the edges of your comfort. “You sure?”

You nod. “I want this. I just—I’m figuring it out as we go.”

Mark kisses you again, slower this time. Deeper. His hand slips beneath your shirt, not groping, just palm-flat and warm against your back. The contact sends a jolt through you. You gasp into his mouth, your leg shifting again, accidentally grinding against him.

He groans. Low, guttural. His hips buck forward, just barely, like he’s trying not to move too much, but can’t help the reaction. You feel it again, how hard he is. How hot this is getting.

Your hand trails down his side, hesitant but curious, and he catches your wrist gently.

“I don’t want to go too far,” he says, voice thick, but controlled. “But if we… stay like this…”

You don’t let him finish. You roll your hips, shy but deliberate, grinding into his thigh where it rests between yours. The friction sparks something sharp and needy in your stomach, and you gasp, clutching at his shirt.

Mark’s breath catches like you’ve hit him with a punch. “Okay,” he murmurs, “okay, yeah, that’s—god, that’s good.”

His hips move again, this time meeting yours, slow and tentative at first. You both moan, quiet, startled. There’s fabric in the way, layers of it, but somehow it only makes it more intense, more charged. You can feel him through the denim, and he can feel every shift of your hips against his leg.

You move again, grinding into him a little harder this time, your breath hitching as the friction hits just right, a soft cry escaping your throat. Mark growls under his breath and grabs your waist, steadying you, guiding you as you move against each other.

“You feel… fuck, you feel amazing,” he says, mouth against your neck now, teeth grazing your skin. You arch into him instinctively, pushing closer, chasing the pressure, the pleasure building between your legs in slow, delicious waves.

Your bodies fall into rhythm. Clothes still on. Nothing exposed. And yet the sensation is almost unbearable, the way your clit grinds against your underwear, the damp heat building there, the way his cock twitches beneath his jeans every time your hips roll together.

You whimper, head falling forward to rest against his shoulder. “Mark…”

He groans your name like it’s a prayer, hands gripping your hips tighter, pulling you against him as he thrusts up to meet you. “Keep going,” he whispers, “I’m so close—I can’t-”

You nod, frantic now, chasing your own high, your body moving on instinct, your thighs tightening around his, your clit catching perfectly against the seam of your underwear with every grind. The pressure is unbearable and perfect and building so fast you can’t breathe.

Your moans are louder now, breathier, and Mark's voice is rough in your ear, panting, muttering half-formed words, “just like that—don’t stop—fuck, you’re—so hot-”

You cry out, shuddering, as it hits you hard and fast, your orgasm crashing through you like a wave you didn’t see coming. Your thighs seize, hips grinding in a desperate, uneven rhythm as you ride it out, shaking against him.

Mark groans, body going tense beneath you, and a second later he jerks up into you with a broken, desperate sound, and then he’s gasping into your neck, cock twitching through his boxers as he comes hard, grinding against you one last time.

Silence falls again, but this time it’s charged in a completely different way. You're both panting, flushed, your bodies still tangled. The world shrinks to the hot, sticky thrum between your thighs and the warmth of his arms around you.

Your skin’s still buzzing, your heart hasn’t slowed, and Mark’s hand hasn’t left your body since he kissed you breathless and made you melt against the sheets. You’re curled on your side, facing him, still flushed and warm all over, your sleep shirt rumpled high around your waist. His fingers are drawing lazy lines along your thigh like he doesn’t want to stop touching you, and honestly, neither do you.

You look at him, your lips parted, still catching your breath. “That… was a lot.”

Mark grins, eyes a little wild, like he’s still not totally back in his body either. “Good a lot?”

You nod, cheeks hot. “Very. Just… I didn’t expect it to feel that good. Like my brain turned off.”

He laughs softly, pressing a kiss to your shoulder. “That’s kinda the point.”

You exhale, grounding yourself in the weight of him beside you, in the way his hand brushes along your hip like he’s memorizing you by touch. You shift slightly, parting your legs a little under the blanket, letting the warmth and tension start to build again. He notices. His eyes flick down, then back to yours, checking.

“You want more?” he asks, voice low, careful.

You nod slowly, nerves fluttering under your ribs, but not enough to stop you. “Yeah. I… I think I want you to, um…” Your eyes drop, and you swallow. “Go down on me?”

Mark doesn’t blink. Doesn’t hesitate. Just smiles softly like that’s the most natural thing in the world. “I’d love to.”

Your heart stutters, and he shifts immediately, kissing your lips once more before moving down the bed. He pauses when he’s kneeling between your thighs, hands sliding gently up your legs, thumbs brushing the sensitive skin of your inner thighs. His gaze is reverent, warm, focused entirely on you.

“Tell me if anything doesn’t feel good, okay?” he says, looking up at you.

You nod, voice small. “I trust you.”

He smiles at that. “Good.”

Then he lowers his head.

His lips press a kiss just above your knee. Then another, higher, a slow trail up your thigh that has your stomach clenching. His breath is warm, teasing, and when he kisses the soft crease beside your center, you gasp, hips twitching involuntarily. He doesn’t dive in. He waits, fingers smoothing over your skin, easing you into it.

Then finally, finally, his mouth settles between your thighs.

The first touch of his tongue is light, just a slow, warm stripe over your slit that makes your toes curl. Your fingers bunch the sheets, your head tipping back against the pillow as a soft, helpless sound slips out of you. He groans against you at the sound, the vibration of it making you shiver.

Mark licks again, firmer now, tongue dragging up to your clit in one smooth motion. When he flicks it, your whole body reacts—hips lifting, thighs squeezing around his head before you can stop yourself.

“Oh my god—Mark-”

“Yeah?” he murmurs, voice muffled, lips brushing you as he speaks. “That feel good?”

You let out something between a whimper and a laugh. “Yes. Jesus.”

He chuckles, low and smug and so affectionate, and then gets back to it. His hands hook around your thighs, pulling you open gently, holding you steady as he focuses on your clit now, licking slow circles, sometimes firm, sometimes soft. Every shift of his tongue feels different, like he’s reading every reaction, adjusting just for you.

You don’t know what to do with your hands. One ends up in his hair, fingers tangling instinctively, the other gripping the pillow beside your head. Your breath stutters with every pass of his mouth, every change in pressure.

When he sucks, just lightly, testing, you moan, sharp and sudden, your legs shaking around his shoulders.

He hums in approval, licks harder now, zeroing in on the rhythm that makes you come undone. Your thighs start to tremble, the pleasure curling in your gut, growing tight and hot and right on the edge of too much.

“Mark—Mark, I’m-” you gasp, barely able to form words. “I think I’m gonna—oh my god-”

“Do it,” he breathes against you, voice ragged, “I’ve got you.”

That’s all it takes. You break, coming with a cry you can’t even hold in, your hips jerking, back arching off the mattress. His name slips from your lips in broken pieces as he keeps his mouth on you, gentler now, easing you through it, drinking in every second.

You collapse back, panting, dazed. Your legs fall open, spent. Mark finally pulls away, lips slick, cheeks flushed, grinning like he just stole the sun. He crawls up the bed, brushing a kiss to your cheek, then your lips, letting you taste yourself, your heat still on his mouth.

“You okay?” he asks, thumb brushing your jaw.

You nod, swallowing hard, voice soft. “I think my soul left my body.”

He grins, nuzzling close. “Then I’ll just have to kiss you ‘til it comes back.”

Mark’s sprawled out against the pillows, shirtless, pants still half-on, but loose around his hips now. His chest is rising and falling in quick, shallow bursts. His hair’s a mess, his lips are pink and parted, and he’s looking at you like he’s not sure he’s still conscious.

You reach for the waistband of his jeans, your fingertips brushing against the bare skin of his lower stomach. You glance up at him, cheeks flushed. “Can I…?”

He nods quickly, already breathless. “Yeah. Yeah, totally.”

Your hands work the button open, sliding the zipper down slow. He lifts his hips to help when you tug his pants and boxers down, revealing him fully. You pause for a second, just looking, taking in the way his cock is flushed and hard, resting against his stomach, thick and twitching in time with every breath he pulls.

You’re flushed all over now, nerves buzzing beneath your skin. But you want this. You want him. And it’s not about returning the favor, it’s about the way he looked at you earlier, like you were something he’d dreamed about touching and couldn’t believe was real.

You lean in, your breath brushing over him, and he lets out a strangled sound just from that. You smile, barely, and then press a kiss to his hip bone, one side, then the other. Your hand wraps around the base of him, gentle but sure, and he groans, low and sharp.

You glance up again. “Okay?”

Mark’s eyes are almost black now, his voice wrecked. “Yeah. God, yeah.”

You lower your head, letting your lips ghost over the tip, tasting him, salty, hot, unfamiliar but not unpleasant. He twitches in your hand. You open your mouth and take him in slowly, inch by inch, your lips wrapping around him as you sink lower. His hand clenches the bedsheet beside him, the muscles in his stomach flexing hard.

“Holy shit,” he breathes, voice already strained. “You’re… wow, okay.”

You smile around him, letting your tongue glide under the shaft, dragging back up to the tip with a slow flick. He shudders, his hips barely lifting before he reigns himself back in. You start to move, careful at first, your hand stroking the base while your lips slide up and down over the head, learning the rhythm of his breath, the way he twitches when you go just a little deeper.

He groans again, voice muffled. “You’re gonna kill me. I swear.”

You hum around him, and his whole body jerks, a strangled moan slipping from his throat. You glance up and his eyes are on you, dazed and wide and wild, like he can’t believe this is happening.

“You look-” he chokes out, “fuck, you look so hot like that.”

You keep going, taking him deeper now, inching farther with each pass. Your throat tightens, your jaw working, your hand stroking in tandem. His abs are tight beneath your palm, his thighs trembling just a little where your fingers rest against them.

Mark’s hands twitch like he wants to touch you, maybe tangle in your hair, but he doesn’t, he just watches, eyes locked to yours every time you glance up. You speed up a little, hollowing your cheeks, letting your spit drip over your fist, making it easier to stroke him faster, smoother. You can feel him start to lose control, his breathing faster, his hips shifting in short, needy thrusts.

“I’m close,” he says, voice shaking. “Fuck, baby, I’m so close.”

You take him deeper, until you feel the head hit the back of your throat. Your hand moves faster, twisting around the base, and you moan softly around him. That’s it. That’s what pushes him over.

He comes with a groan that borders on a whimper, his hand shooting out to grip the sheets, hips stuttering. Hot, salty release spills into your mouth, thick and sudden, and you keep going, swallowing as best you can, letting the rest dribble out and down your chin as you ease off him, slow, careful.

You wipe your mouth with the back of your hand, crawling back up beside him. He’s panting, one arm thrown over his eyes, the other still clenched in the sheets like he doesn’t know how to exist in his own body anymore.

When you settle beside him, he turns his head slowly, eyes glazed, lips parted in a dazed grin.

“Okay,” he says. “That was… that was insane.”

You laugh softly, settling your cheek against his shoulder. “Yeah?”

“I think I just died. And I don’t even care.”

You smile, lips brushing his collarbone. “You’re alive.”

“Am I?” He reaches over and pulls you in tighter, still breathing hard. “Pretty sure I flatlined.”

You kiss the side of his neck, warm and soft. “Guess we both need CPR.”

Mark snorts, breathless. “I think you gave me CPR. With your mouth.”

You grin, biting his shoulder. “You’re such a dork.”

“And you,” he says, turning his face toward yours, brushing your hair out of your eyes, “are amazing.”

He kisses you, slow and deep and grateful, tasting himself on your lips without flinching, without even hesitating. Just kissing you like he wants to stay there forever. When you finally pull apart, both of you a little breathless again, he presses his forehead to yours.

“We’re doing that again,” he murmurs.

You grin. “Which part?”

“All of it. Every single part.”

The room feels different now, thick with warmth, the air humming with the weight of what’s been said, what’s been done, what’s about to happen. The sheets are tangled around your waist, your body still trembling slightly, flushed from his touch, from his mouth, from the look in his eyes like you’re the most sacred thing he’s ever held. And you are, right now. You feel it in the way Mark touches you. No rush. No pressure. Just reverence. Just care.

You’re lying beneath him, heart thudding so loud you’re sure he can hear it. His hands are warm against your sides, thumbs brushing over the soft skin just below your ribs. He’s hovering above you, fully naked now, his body lean and strong, toned from fights and flights and all the impossible things he does daily, but still human here. Still yours here.

“You’re sure?” he asks, voice so soft it barely fills the space between you.

You nod, slowly. “I’m sure.”

Mark exhales, eyes fluttering shut for a beat like he needed to hear that, needed to feel it in his bones. When he opens them again, they’re darker, heavier with emotion, something raw and vulnerable behind the desire.

“Okay,” he whispers. “Okay. I’ll go slow. I promise.”

He leans in and kisses you, not rushed, not hungry, just deep, like he’s saying something he can’t put into words. You kiss him back with the same unspoken understanding, fingers sliding into his hair, pulling him closer. His body settles over yours, the heat of his skin seeping into you, grounding you, thrilling you.

He reaches down between you and lines himself up, his cock heavy and hot against your thigh. You gasp at the feel of it, the size, the pressure, the weight of what it means. He strokes himself once, slowly, before he presses the tip against your entrance, and both of you go quiet.

Mark kisses your jaw, your cheek, your temple, whispering between each press of his lips. “Tell me if it’s too much. I’ll stop. I’ll stop anytime.”

“I want this,” you breathe, your voice shaking but sure. “I want you.”

He pushes forward, just a little, and your breath catches in your throat.

The stretch is immediate, your body fighting the unfamiliar intrusion. It’s not painful, but it’s… intense. Tight. Full. You tense on instinct, your fingers digging into his biceps.

Mark freezes. “You okay?”

“Yeah,” you whisper, forcing yourself to breathe. “Just… slow. Keep going. Just slow.”

He nods, kissing your forehead. “You’re doing perfect.”

He moves again, gradually, inch by inch, until he’s partway inside you, his hips trembling with restraint. You feel him everywhere, stretching you open, grounding you, filling you in ways that feel impossibly deep. You gasp again, blinking hard, focusing on the heat of his skin under your hands, the sound of his voice murmuring soft encouragement into your ear.

“So tight,” he breathes. “So perfect.”

He goes deeper, his cock sinking into you with slow, deliberate thrusts until he’s fully sheathed, buried inside you. His breath stutters, his eyes fluttering shut, jaw clenched hard to keep from losing control. You can feel every inch of him, feel your body stretching around him, learning how to take him.

You moan softly, hips shifting as you adjust, and when the sting fades into something fuller, warmer, you let out a shaky breath.

“I’m okay,” you whisper, legs curling around his waist. “You can move.”

He starts slow. Rolling his hips in shallow, careful thrusts, keeping his body pressed close to yours, never breaking contact. His hand strokes your side, your thigh, your cheek, anywhere he can reach. Every time you tense, he slows, waiting for your body to trust him again.

And it does. Little by little, the discomfort melts away. You start to move with him, rolling your hips up to meet his, gasping every time he sinks deep and grinds against something that sends sparks up your spine.

“God,” Mark groans, head dropping to your shoulder. “You feel… fuck, you feel amazing.”

You cling to him, overwhelmed by the heat, the closeness, the sound of his voice breaking into gasps every time your hips meet. He picks up a little speed, still slow, still careful, but more confident now. Every thrust fills you completely, the pressure building into something real. Something intimate. Every soft slap of skin, every low moan that spills from his lips, every helpless sound you make beneath him, it all adds to the rhythm, the heat, the connection.

Your fingers drag down his back, nails biting into muscle, and he groans, pushing deeper, harder, still slow but more intense now. He lifts his head, looks down at you with so much awe, so much feeling it’s dizzying.

“You’re so beautiful like this,” he whispers, forehead pressing to yours, sweat glistening on his skin. “So fucking beautiful.”

You moan, your body clenching around him, your thighs shaking. “I think I’m close, Mark—don’t stop-”

“I’m here,” he says, voice thick and ragged. “I’ve got you. Come for me.”

The wave crashes over you without warning, shuddering and hot and endless. Your back arches, your mouth open on a cry as your walls pulse around him, the orgasm tearing through you like a current. Mark groans, burying his face in your neck as he follows you, thrusting once, twice more before he stills, hips pressed tight to yours as he comes hard, shaking in your arms, gasping your name.

Everything is still after. No sound but the ragged breath of two bodies wrecked and clinging.

He doesn’t move for a long moment, just breathes into your neck, his arms wound around you like he’s afraid to let go.

Eventually, he lifts his head, eyes heavy, lips soft.

“You okay?” he murmurs.

You nod, tears stinging the corners of your eyes, not from pain—just emotion. “Yeah. That was… good.”

Mark leans down and kisses you, slow, tender, no rush. No hunger. Just love.

The room’s gone soft around the edges, dim light pooled in the corners, sweat cooling on your skin, your muscles loose and twitching from the first time he’d taken you apart. The air’s heavy, damp with your breath and his, the sheets kicked to the bottom of the bed in a pile of tangled cotton and clothes. Everything smells like sex. Like him. Like you.

And you can feel him behind you.

Still hard.

You shift slightly, and his cock presses against your thigh, warm, heavy, twitching, and it makes your breath catch in your throat. You blink slowly, hazy, your body pulsing between your legs like it’s already remembering what it felt like to have him buried inside you.

“You’re still…” You glance down, blushing. “Wow.”

Mark laughs, but it’s quiet, breathless, like he’s just as surprised. “Yeah. Apparently, I’m eighteen again.”

You snort, dragging the back of your hand across your mouth. “I didn’t even know it could do that. Like, that fast.”

He shrugs, shifting beside you. “I mean, you were literally moaning like someone rewrote your brain chemistry with their dick, so…”

“Oh my god—Mark—shut up-”

He grins, eyes glinting. “Next time you’re gonna be that loud, maybe warn me. I wasn’t exactly planning on getting hard all over again five seconds later.”

You bury your face in the pillow, groaning. “I hate you.”

“You love me.”

You roll your eyes. “That’s still pending peer review.”

Mark laughs again, but there’s a quiet behind it now, something deeper. He shifts toward you, his hand sliding over your bare hip, slow and warm. “Do you wanna go again?” His voice is soft now, careful. “I mean… only if you’re feeling okay. I know you said you were sore.”

You breathe in slowly, feeling the ache in your thighs, the pleasant throb between your legs. You are sore. Your body’s worn and flushed and used. But underneath that soreness is a craving you didn’t know you could feel, something thick and hot and electric.

You nod. “Yeah. I want to.”

Mark’s breath stutters. He leans in, kisses your shoulder, your neck, his lips trailing heat across your skin. “You wanna stay like this?”

You hesitate. Then you push up slowly, onto your elbows, then your hands and knees, arching your back, your ass lifting high.

You don’t look at him. You can’t. Your face is already on fire.

“I, uh…” Your voice cracks a little. “I want to try it this way.”

There’s a long pause.

Then Mark makes a strangled noise behind you. “Okay. Okay, you can’t just do that and expect me to function.”

You giggle, nervous, shifting your knees a little wider. “I don’t even know if I’m doing it right.”

Mark’s hands settle on your hips, and you feel him slide up behind you, kneeling. His fingers tighten, holding you in place like he’s grounding himself, and then he leans in, pressing a kiss to your lower back.

“You’re doing everything right,” he says, voice rough now. “You look so fucking good like this.”

You shiver, suddenly very aware of how open you are, how vulnerable. But it’s not scary. Not with him. You trust him more than you’ve ever trusted anyone.

He strokes his hand up your spine, then down again, until he’s cupping your ass in both hands, gently kneading the soft flesh. You feel the blunt head of his cock nudge between your folds, and your breath catches.

“Okay?” he asks again, even now, still checking.

You nod, biting your lip. “Yeah. Just… go slow again?”

“Always.”

He presses forward, and you feel the stretch immediately—sharper this time. Deeper. You breathe through it, bracing your arms as your body adjusts, the pressure building until he’s fully inside you, hips flush to your ass.

You whimper, legs shaking. “God, Mark-”

He groans, holding still, trying not to move. “You’re so fucking tight. I can feel everything.”

You breathe, slow and deep, getting used to the new angle, the depth. It’s intense, so much more than before. It feels like he’s deeper inside you, hitting places that make your toes curl.

“You okay?” he asks again.

You nod. “Yeah. It’s just… a lot.”

“Tell me when.”

You shift your hips experimentally, grinding back against him, and that alone makes you both moan.

“There,” you gasp. “There, I’m good. Move.”

He pulls back, just a little, then thrusts back in, slow, deliberate, his hands gripping your waist like he’s afraid he’ll lose you otherwise. The sound is obscene, wet, messy, needy, and your thighs tremble as you rock back into him.

Mark starts to fuck you in earnest, his rhythm picking up, the sound of his skin slapping your ass sharp and filthy. You can barely breathe, your face pressed to the pillow as your body jerks forward with every thrust.

“God—fuck—you feel so good,” he pants behind you. “I can’t believe this is real. You’re—fuck—you’re so good.”

You try to answer, but all that comes out is a moan as he hits a spot inside you that makes your vision go white.

He leans over you, his chest against your back now, his arm wrapping around to reach between your legs. His fingers find your clit, slippery and swollen, and he starts rubbing tight, fast circles in rhythm with his thrusts.

You scream, bucking under him. “Mark—fuck—I’m gonna—oh my god-”

“Do it,” he groans into your neck. “Wanna feel you come around my cock again. Wanna hear how loud I can make you.”

You unravel in seconds, your body locking, your pussy clenching down around him so hard it rips a growl out of his throat. You shake, crying out, eyes squeezed shut, legs useless beneath you.

Mark thrusts through your orgasm, chasing his own, and a moment later he slams in deep one last time, groaning loud as he comes, cock pulsing, his whole body jerking with it.

He collapses on top of you, both of you breathless, ruined.

After a long, quiet minute, he rolls off to the side, pulling you with him, your body limp against his chest.

You don’t speak. You can’t. You just lie there, letting the warmth of him bleed into your skin, his hand stroking your back like you’re something fragile and important.

Finally, Mark exhales a soft laugh. You’re curled against him, your head tucked beneath his chin, his hand smoothing up and down your back like he doesn’t want to stop touching you. And honestly? You don’t want him to either.

Your skin still tingles. Your thighs are sticky, your lips sore from kissing. You feel raw and loved and dizzy.

But deep beneath all that?

There’s still need.

Not playful. Not curious. Heavy.

You swallow, your voice small. “I’m still... kind of wired.”

Mark hums above you, lazy. “Wired?”

“I mean, like…” You shift slightly, pressing your hips against him without thinking. “I thought I’d be spent. But it’s like my brain's fried and my body’s just... still on.”

You glance up at him through messy strands of hair. “You ever get that? Like your muscles should be exhausted, but your whole body’s still buzzing?”

Mark lifts his head and looks at you.

And he’s not smiling this time.

His face shifts, just a little. Like something in him’s been quiet this whole time and now it’s starting to wake up. That soft, sweet boyish glow in his eyes dims, changes. Not gone. Just shadowed. Heated.

“Yeah,” he says, voice lower now. “I get that.”

His fingers slide down your side, finding the dip of your waist, his palm spreading over your hip. He holds you like that for a second. Still.

Then. “You wanna go again.”

It’s not really a question.

But you nod. “I do. I just… I don’t want it gentle this time.”

Mark blinks slowly, like he’s processing that. Then he exhales, breath shaky, and shifts to sit up slightly, his hand still warm on your waist. “You mean like—what? Different position, or like—more intense?”

You hesitate. Then push onto your elbows and roll onto your stomach, deliberately slow. You stretch your arms out and tilt your hips up just enough. Not knees. Not lifted like before.

Flat.

Heavy.

Open.

Your voice comes out low. “More intense.”

There’s a long pause. You feel it, him watching you. Breathing harder.

Then Mark says, quietly. “I don’t think I can be nice if we do it like this.”

You glance back at him. His jaw’s tight. His eyes are dark, locked on where your thighs are already pressing together, slick and aching.

“Then don’t be.”

That breaks him.

Mark shifts behind you slowly, spreading your thighs just a little more with firm hands that feel bigger like this, heavier. He settles on his knees, your hips tipped up with the help of the pillow beneath you, your chest and cheek pressed into the mattress. Your back arches without meaning to, presenting, offering, your entire body opening up for him without hesitation.

You feel him line up, the head of his cock dragging slowly along your entrance, teasing once, twice, more to coat himself in your slick than to test your patience.

“You’re still soaked,” he says, low and ragged.

He presses in with one smooth, solid thrust.

Your mouth falls open. No words, just breath. The stretch hits immediately. He’s thick, the angle is deeper than before, and the way your thighs are pressed together amplifies everything. The heat, the fullness, the pressure on every nerve ending. Your walls clamp down reflexively, overwhelmed, and Mark grits out a curse behind you.

“Jesus Christ—you’re tight.”

You try to nod, but it’s more of a twitch. He’s all the way in, his hips pressed firm to your ass, and for a long second, neither of you moves. You both just exist in the feeling.

Then Mark pulls back.

And slams into you.

The first thrust punches a sound out of your mouth. A sharp cry that bursts out before you can catch it. Your hands fist in the sheets, and your hips jerk forward from the force of it.

He does it again. Harder. Deeper.

His hands lock around your hips, gripping tight, holding you in place as he finds his rhythm. It’s not rushed, but it’s rough. Purposeful. Every thrust lands hard, rocking your body into the mattress, making the headboard rattle gently with the force.

You’re gasping now, helpless. “Oh my god—Mark—fuck-”

“Yeah?” he pants, voice raw. “You like this?”

You nod frantically, unable to speak. It’s too much, in the best way. Your body’s strung out, shaking, the friction relentless. Each thrust drives him so deep inside you it feels like he’s splitting you in half and rebuilding you in his shape.

The sound of it fills the room, skin on skin, slick and fast and wet, your cries rising with every thrust.

He leans forward a little, changing the angle, and suddenly he’s grinding against something inside you that makes your vision spark. You jolt, head lifting from the mattress as your whole body tenses.

“There,” he breathes. “That’s the spot.”

He keeps hitting it, again and again, each time with more force, more intent, his cock stroking over that perfect pressure point like he means to ruin you.

You sob into the sheets. “Mark—Mark—I can’t-”

“Yes, you can,” he growls. “You’re taking it so fucking well.”

One hand slips off your hip, snakes around to your front, fingers sliding over your clit. You’re already so sensitive the first brush makes your hips jerk, but he doesn’t stop. He rubs fast, firm circles, in sync with his thrusts, and the combination nearly knocks you out of your body.

The burn is everywhere. Your legs are trembling. Your muscles are tight and twitching, your breath broken into whimpers. You don’t know if you’re saying his name or just thinking it, chanting it, praying with it, begging.

“Please—please—I’m gonna-”

“Come,” he murmurs lowly, barely holding it together behind you. “I want it. I wanna feel it.”

You come like lightning. There’s no slow build, just a sudden, electric collapse. Your pussy clenches hard, convulsing around him, your voice breaking into a sharp cry as your whole body locks up.

Mark groans, deep and strained, his hips faltering. He fucks you through it, his cock dragging through the wet, pulsing heat of your orgasm, and then he slams in once more and freezes.

“F-fuck—” he gasps, head dropping to your back. “I’m—fuck—”

He shudders hard, cock twitching as he spills into you, his whole body jerking with it. One hand clenches around your waist like he’s trying to ground himself while the other braces against the bed beside your head. You feel the tension ripple through him, feel him lose it inside you.

And then it’s over. But the heat doesn’t fade right away. It lingers, wrapped around your body like a second skin, sinking deep into your bones.

Mark stays inside you for a moment longer, chest heaving, his breath hot against your back. Then, carefully, slowly, he eases out, one hand on your lower back as he moves, gentle again now, like the moment’s intensity is still ringing in his hands.

He pulls you into him when he finally lays down again, your back to his chest, arms tight around you like he’s trying to hold the moment in place.

You’re not sure how long you lie there, your bodies tangled, your skin still tacky with sweat, but the quiet between you doesn’t need filling. It’s not silence, it’s peace. The kind that only comes after something real. Something that breaks you open and puts you back together in the same breath.

You’re not sure how long it’s been. Minutes? An hour?

Time’s gone soft around the edges, all stretched out and blurry. Your skin is sticky, flushed. Every part of you feels sore in that half-numb way that says we went too far and I’d do it again in a heartbeat. Your thighs ache. Your lips are swollen. Your muscles don’t want to move.

Mark is breathing slowly behind you. His chest rises against your back in that heavy rhythm you only get when your body’s winding down after something primal, after all the tension’s burned off and all that’s left is heat and heartbeat and the way you fit together.

You shift just slightly, trying to get comfortable, and immediately wince.

“Ow,” you whisper, wry and quiet.

Mark stirs behind you. He’s half-asleep, but not gone. His arm tightens around your waist, pulling you closer. “Mm?”

“I think my spine left the building,” you murmur, face still buried in the pillow. “My thighs are mad at me. My everything hurts.”

Mark chuckles. It’s low and sleepy, his breath warm on your shoulder. “You’re welcome.”

You snort. “I didn’t say I regretted it.”

He hums and nuzzles closer, pressing a soft, barely-there kiss between your shoulder blades. “Good. ‘Cause I definitely blacked out for a few minutes in the middle there.”

You turn your head just enough to look back at him. His hair is a mess, his face flushed and still dazed, eyes half-lidded. He looks soft like this. Disarmed. Like he’s not trying to be anything but yours.

“Can’t feel my legs,” you murmur.

“Same,” he says, voice muffled now, mouth resting against your bare skin. 

You laugh quietly. “Romantic.”

“The most romantic.” He kisses your neck this time. “Can’t believe this started with you explaining something about thermodynamic collapse at dinner.”

You groan into the pillow. “Don’t remind me.”

“No, it was hot,” he mumbles. “You had charts.”

“You’re never letting this go, are you?”

“Not a chance.”

You let silence stretch out for a little while. Not because there’s nothing left to say, but because it’s nice, being quiet with him. Not needing to fill space. His thumb strokes absent circles into your side. The fan hums softly from the corner of the room.

“Hey,” you whisper eventually.

Mark makes a soft noise of acknowledgment, his grip on you not loosening an inch.

“I don’t think I’ve ever felt like this before,” you say, the words barely audible. “Not just… sex. But this. Being held like this.”

He’s quiet for a long moment. Then he shifts just enough to hook his leg over yours, tangling you together even more.

“Me neither,” he says.

You smile. Close your eyes. Press your fingers over his hand, holding it there.

Mark kisses your shoulder again. “You’re amazing, you know that?”

“I’m sweaty and ruined and I probably have sheet lines all over my face.”

“Exactly.”

You huff out a laugh and feel it ease something in your chest. That pressure that’s always there, especially when you get too in your head, too tangled in what things mean. It’s gone now. There’s no future to plan for, no awkwardness to decode. Just warmth. Skin. Comfort.

Eventually, Mark’s breathing starts to even out behind you again. Slower. Deeper. You think he’s about to fall asleep, until his hand squeezes your hip, one last time.

“Hey,” he murmurs.

“Mm?”

“I’m still hard.”

You choke on a laugh. “Mark-”

“I’m just saying.” His voice is thick with sleep. 

“You’re delusional.”

“I’m in love.”

You freeze. He doesn’t seem to notice he said it, too sleepy. He’s already burying his face against your shoulder again, breathing the evening out. But you hear it. You feel it. And as your hand drifts back to find his under the blankets, your fingers twining between his, you realize the words don’t scare you. They feel right.

You whisper into the quiet, “Me too.”

And let yourself fall asleep tangled in him, no space between you. Just breath. Just warmth. Just him. You wake up before the alarm. Not because of the sun, though it’s already rising, a subdued gold streaming through the curtain edge. Not because of the nerves, though they're creeping up your neck like static.

Mark shifts next to you, so you awaken.

Not a lot. Just the tiniest finger twitch on your bare waist, the gentle, drowsy exhalation against the back of your shoulder as he moves and falls back into the sheet tangle. The warmth strikes you all at once. The intimacy. The stillness. And the fact that it’s today. You blink carefully, allowing your eyes adapt, but you don’t move.

Still snuggled behind you, Mark's chest pushed to your back and one arm draped over your stomach. Your legs are knotted with his. The room smells like hotel soap and shared flesh, and your body hurts in all the ways that make last night seem heavy and real and right.

You close your eyes again, just for a second. It’s not the nerves that drag you out of bed. It’s the weight of time.

You move carefully, sliding out from beneath his arm without disturbing him. You discover your clothes, your polished pants, your clean shirt, the jacket you picked out in a swirl of anxious energy the week before. You gather your bags, your badge, your quivering hands, and go silently into the restroom.

The water is too hot, yet you don’t turn it down. You lean into the tile, forehead on the wall, and let the steam fill your lungs. You’re not crying. You’re not breaking. But you are unraveling a little, and here is the only location that seems secure enough to do it without falling apart totally. This is it. Today. Your Oscorp presentation.

You know what to say. You’ve rehearsed it. Memorized it. You’ve revised your slides six times. You’ve spoken your introduction in the shower, in the mirror, in your sleep. But knowing what to say and feeling you’re ready to speak it in front of a room full of business executives are two very different things.

You dry off gently, wrap your towel firmly about you, and gaze at your reflection in the mirror. You don’t feel brilliant. You don’t feel like someone who deserves a seat in the room. But you button the shirt nevertheless. One at a time.

When you step out, your hair still damp around your shoulders, Mark’s awake. He’s sitting up in bed, hair ruffled, wearing nothing but sleep-wrinkled boxers and a bewildered face. He blinks when he sees you. Then grins. Soft. Proud. Sleep-warm and boyish.

“Morning.”

You exhale. “Hi.”

He stretches, arms extending over his head, and lets out a deep breath. “You’re already dressed?”

“Couldn’t sleep.”

“You okay?”

You nod.

He glances at you for a second longer. “You sure?”

“No.”

Mark scoots to the edge of the bed and puts his elbows on his knees. “C’mere.”

You hesitate. Then go. You sit alongside him, your bare knee caressing his thigh, and he threads his fingers with yours without a word.

“You don’t have to be okay right this second,” he offers gently.

“I want to be.”

He shrugs. “You will be. Once you’re in that room.”

You gaze at the floor.

“I can’t tell if I’m more scared of failing or of doing well and not knowing what comes after.”

Mark hums. “That’s fair.”

“You’re not gonna try to talk me down?”

“Nope.”

You gaze up at him.

And his look is peaceful. Grounded. Certain.

“I’m just gonna remind you you’re not alone,” he says. “You don’t have to carry this by yourself.”

You push your forehead to his. Just for a second. Then breathe out. And let him hold your hand for as long as it needs.

The ride down on the elevator is calm. You’re dressed in your presenting best. Your badge catches the light every time the elevator shifts. Mark’s dressed casually but neat, dark jacket, tidy pants, your favorite of his shirts beneath.

His hand touches yours in the confined space. You take it. Without speaking. Without thinking. You just take it.

The convention lobby is full. There are interns everywhere, stiff suits, coffee cups clasped like lifelines, frantic eyes darting from registration tables to room schedules to glossy name tags of higher-ups strolling by like gods. Your badge says PRESENTER. Silver. Heavy.

Mark doesn't say anything. Because he’s just a visitor. But he walks with you like he’s more than that. Like he always has. You find the check-in table, confirm your time, and receive your placement: Panel Room B, second slot. Thirty minutes. You nod. You try not to reveal how your pulse is beating in your ears.

The woman behind the counter grins. “There’s a prep room across the hall. Just presenters and organizers allowed.”

You gaze back toward Mark. Her eyes follow.

“Guests can wait outside the panel room,” she offers softly. “We’ll start seating soon.”

Mark glances at you. “You want me to stay close?”

You nod. “Front row.”

He grins. “Wouldn’t be anywhere else.”

The prep room is quieter but not calmer.

There’s a row of seats, a pitcher of water, a countdown clock on the wall. You sit. You grasp your iPad with white knuckles. You practice your opener in your thoughts again. And again. And again. Your chest feels tight. But suddenly the door opens slightly, and a worker comes in.

“First presenter’s almost done. You're next.”

You stand. Your legs feel like someone else's. And then you’re in the hallway. Then you’re standing behind a curtain, waiting for your name. You hear muted applause.

A voice over the mic. “Next up, a promising development in adaptive nano-tech applications-”

And your name. Clear. Loud. Sharp. You step into the spotlight. You don’t trip. You don’t freeze. You talk. Your voice shakes just for the first few syllables. But then you lock eyes with someone in the front row.

Black hair. Blue eyes.  Strong jaw. Leaning forward in his seat. Watching you like nothing else mattered. Mark. His expression is steady. Soft. He grins when you make it through your intro.

He mouths the word “yes” when your first graph loads without glitching.

He nods along as you hit your stride. And when you pause for audience questions, he’s the only person in the room you trust to look at. Because he’s still there. Still holding you together. Without touching a thing.

The applause still resonates in your ears even as the doors close behind you. It’s not thundering. It’s not cinematic. But it’s enough. Enough so you don’t feel like you failed. Enough that your lungs finally feel like they can fill again.

You stroll out of the panel room and into the corridor, where the carpet seems too soft under your shoes and the lights buzz somewhat louder than before. The high is wearing off, fast, and the weight of what you just accomplished is crashing over you in waves.

You don’t even know you’re trembling until you reach the corner near the prep area and touch your palm on the wall to stabilize yourself. Your breath is short. Your mouth is dry. Your heart is still hammering. But you did it. You did it. You look down at your badge, still fastened to your jacket, still sparkling with that strong silver PRESENTER print, and let yourself feel it for just a second. You deserved that.

“Hey.”

You turn. He’s already there. Mark. Leaning nonchalantly against the wall like he didn’t just witness you rise up and own a stage you thought you’d fall on. Like he hasn’t been holding his breath the entire time you talked. But his smile tells everything. You exhale like you forgot how.

“I didn’t screw up,” you reply, almost incredulous.

He pushes off the wall, approaching toward you with the deliberate, controlled stride of someone who’s trying not to run.

“You didn’t just not screw up,” he says. “You crushed it.”

You gaze at him, eyes wide. “I think I blacked out halfway through.”

“You didn’t miss a beat.”

“I—I tripped over one of the bullet points in slide six.”

“No one noticed.”

“I was shaking.”

“I noticed that.”

Your voice catches. “Was it bad?”

Mark stops in front of you. And shakes his head.

“It was honest,” he replies gently. “It made everyone pay attention. Made them believe you.”

You blink fast.

“I feel like I’m going to cry.”

“You should.”

He reaches up, moving your hair back from your face, fingertips sliding over the contour of your cheek.

“You earned this,” he murmurs. “Every second of it.”

You lean toward him before your knees can make any wrong judgments on their own. He captures your lips like he was waiting for it. Holds you. Not tightly. Not dramatically. Just long enough to inform your heart it’s good to slow down now. Just long enough to make it real. You don’t know how long you stay like that.

Eventually, a few more presenters stream by. A pair nod in your direction. One delivers a short, “Nice job in there,” before going down the corridor. You’re not sure if they mean it. But you nod nevertheless. You let go of Mark just enough to breathe again.

“Is it weird that I don’t remember most of it?” you mumble.

He grins. “You will. Once the adrenaline wears off.”

You look down at your hands. They’ve stopped shaking. For now.

“I was scared.”

“I know.”

“I thought I’d fall apart.”

“You didn’t.”

You nod, blinking hard again.

“Did you see who was in the front row?”

Mark nods. “Yeah. Dr. Li. And the guy from R&D with the weird eyebrows.”

“I think he was judging me.”

“I think he was crying.”

You laugh. A complete one this time. Unfiltered. It feels natural. Like breathing. You sit on one of the seats in the corridor with Mark, sipping the water he took off a catering tray while no one was watching. He offers you one of those lemon sugar cookies you usually claim not to enjoy, and you take it without objection. You lean against him, head against his shoulder. And just... exist. For a while.

Until a shadow crosses your range of view.

And a voice replies, “Told you she’d kill it.”

You glance up. Harry. Wearing a jacket you surely haven’t seen before, and smiling that little, familiar smile that never quite gives away what he’s thinking.

“You were in there?” you ask, shocked.

“Of course I was,” he admits. “Front row, four seats behind your boyfriend.”

Mark stares at him but doesn’t say anything.

You shift upright. “What’d you think?”

Harry shrugs. “Could’ve used more lasers.”

You laugh. “Be serious.”

“I am. But no—seriously? You were solid. Professional. Sharp.” He pauses. “You didn’t flinch when they asked about the lab failure data. That was impressive.”

You try not to shine too much. But it’s hard. Especially when the people who’ve known you the longest are the ones observing you the closest. Harry reaches out a hand. You shake it.

He leans in. “Also, Dr. Li was scribbling notes the entire time. That’s typically a positive sign.”

Your stomach flips again. But in a nice way.

He winks. “Catch up later?”

You nod. Harry slips back into the crowd. And you’re left with Mark again, looking down at your now-empty water cup.

“You okay?” he says again, softly.

“Yeah.”

And then, after a pause. “I think I really did it.”

Mark grins. “You did.”

You gaze forward to the far wall of the corridor, where the next group of presenters is being called in.

“Does it feel weird?” you ask.

“What?”

“Seeing me like this. Not as... me. But like this me.”

Mark’s brow furrows. “You’re always this you.”

You scoff. “You know what I mean.”

He shrugs. “I mean, yeah. It’s weird.”

You raise an eyebrow.

“But it’s also amazing,” he says. “Watching you take up space like that? Watching you be seen? I don’t think I’ve ever felt prouder.”

Your chest pulls tight. Mark lays his head on yours.

“You belong in that room.”

You nod slowly.

“I’m starting to think maybe... maybe I do.”

You’re still clutching the empty water bottle when you hear your name. The hallway backstage is quiet now, humming with leftover tension and the distant echo of footsteps, Oscorp volunteers, panel coordinators, applause still bleeding faintly through the walls. You just stepped out of the room where you presented, out of the lights, out of the pressure. Mark’s waiting farther down the hall. 

“Miss,” a voice says, calm and quiet.

You turn. And there he is. Dr. Otto Octavius. You freeze. The only thing louder than the blood pounding in your ears is the realization that he’s here. You didn’t see him at the panel. Didn’t know he was attending. And yet, somehow, it makes sense. He doesn’t sit in crowds. He observes from the shadows.

He’s taller than you expected. Not imposing, exactly, but deliberate. Measured. Like everything about him was engineered for efficiency. His glasses catch the hallway light. His posture is impeccable. His look is unreadable.

“You presented clearly,” he remarks without preface. “You didn’t falter, even when pressed on your control variable gaps.”

You nod, trying not to noticeably brace. “Thank you, Dr. Octavius. I didn’t know-”

“I wasn’t announced,” he adds, cutting you off with the ease of someone who never wastes words. “I prefer to observe when the subject doesn’t know they’re being watched.”

Subject. Your spine gets rigid.

“Walk with me.”

You gaze down the corridor, toward where Mark had gone. But you follow. He walks slowly. Not because he has to, but because he expects you to keep pace.

“I run a program,” he adds after a pause. “A very specific one. Experimental, sponsored privately, shrouded by enough nondisclosure to black out half a city block.”

You look over at him. “What kind of program?”

He doesn’t look at you.

“Cross-species neural adaptation,” he explains. “Specifically… arachnid-based.”

The word clicks against your ribcage.

“Spiders?” you ask, since you have to. He eventually turns his head.

“Yes.”

He stops walking. You stop too.

“The Midtown Spider Genetics Lab houses Oscorp’s most advanced neuroadaptive research,” he explains. “We’ve been isolating and enhancing spider genomes to test the limits of cognitive transference. Behavior mapping. Memory rewriting. Selective mutagenesis. And more.”

You don’t talk. You can’t. His eyes are fixated on you now.

“What we’re doing isn’t theoretical,” he continues. “It’s real. It’s volatile. It demands exactness. Focus. A steady hand and a sharper mind. That’s why I’ve only ever asked very few interns to shadow the project.”

You gaze at him.

“And you want me to be one?” you ask.

“No,” he says. “I want you to be the first of a new branch. The others were observers. I want you in the lab itself.”

You swallow. He sees it. Doesn’t flinch.

“You’ll finish out your academic year,” he says. “The program begins next fall. One semester. Midtown lab. Closed-access wing. Three days per week.”

You hesitate. The corridor is so silent you can hear your heartbeat. Octavius steps closer. Not looming. But close enough to make you feel the gravity.

“You didn’t flinch today,” he says. “Not when they pressed you. Not when you tripped. You held your ground.”

You nod slowly. Once.

“I’m in.”

His smile is a flash. Not approval. Something sharper.

“Good,” he says.

He hands you a folder. Simple. Sealed. Your name on the front.

“Review it. Skim it. Report to the Midtown Genetics Lab next September.”

You take it.

And before you can ask anything else, he’s gone, walking back the way you came, like he was never there at all. You stand in the lonely corridor, holding a folder that suddenly weighs more than the building around you. In your chest, something shifts. Not fear. Not yet. Something smaller. Sharper. The initial thread of something that will tug until there’s nothing left but truth. 

And spiders.

ִ ࣪✮🕷✮⋆˙

current taglist: @adeptusxia0 / @moonjellyfishie / @ladynoirx321 / @moraxussy / @saturnalya / @the-good-kooshe / @atomspidyr / @iansimpsforeveryone / @luvvcharxo / @jiyeons-closet / @weponxwrites / @xzmickeyzx / @heiankyonoeiyuukun / @edgycatx / @oxymorondemon / @bluerrie / @swtheartz / @maxi-ride / @nightmarewasteland / @hot15936 / @rotinginmybed / @deleted-1-800 / @thehumanradio17 / @mhrasm / @yzzaqczec / @pickledsoda / @qxuanii / @tr3nzit444s / @ketsuekiakane / @jiminie-08 / @thatwaspossesion / @xoyumiqls / @liliesclouds / @maki-ki / @wifeofmarkgrayson / @pixviee / @sugawoonie / @uselesstutor09 / @marinefreaakk / @monaekelis / @woodle-isbae / @simping4l1fe / @wasitforrevenge

[a-sweeter-solarsystem]

A Tangled Web Chapter 1: Sparky and the Scrivener Drawn for the Ishtar Illustrated zine

YAY!!! YIPPE!!! THE ZINE IS FINALLY OUT!!! I'm so happy that I got my first pick for this zine cause I absolutely adore this lorebook so much!! ヽ(´▽｀)ノ

This was a really fun piece to work on and I'm so happy with how it turned out. Everyone did such an amazing job on this zine please go check it out when you get a chance!!!!

Image ID under the keep reading for folks that need it!

[Image ID: A three page comic illustrating a lore entry from destiny 2: A tangled Web Chapter 1: Sparky and the Scrivener. Each page has a bottom border with the name of the lore entry of the left and the artist's blog handle on the right (a-sweeter-solarsystem). Crow is wearing the outfit he was first revived in: a brown cloak over his scale armor. Glint is a small red ghost with fins that look faintly like leaves. The two are talking in a dimly lit, rocky area that is illuminated by a campfire.

On the first page, Glint asks Crow, "Purely as a hypothetical exercise, what would you name me?" Crow looks thoughtfully down and replies, "Hm…You Are…A Light in the darkness." The second panel has Glint is in the center of the page that is popping out over the other panels. He is surrounded by white light and faint, motivational text ("Don't Worry! I'm right behind you!" / "I've got you, guardian!" / "One step at a time!"). Crow continues, "And thus, I name thee Sparky." Glint is drawn in monochrome with a shocked expression. The background pattern resembles a lightning strike.

On the second page Crow looks at Glint playfully and says, "I'm sensing some reluctance, Sparky." Glint is floating downward. There is wobbly text describing his disapproval following him. His eye has a tear in it. He drops onto the ground with a small dust cloud. He stays there for a moment then flops onto his back so that he can look back up at Crow. He looks annoyed and replies, "It's terrible." Crow watches the display and says, "Picky. Very well. I can do better."

On the third page Glint is thinking over Crow's suggestions. Crow says, "How do you feel about Gleam? Flash? Or maybe Glint?" Glint lights up and expands his shell. His eye is now rainbow in color as he is delighted by the suggestion. He says, "Ohhh! I like Glint!" Glint is now back in the air. Crow is shaking Glint's fin in the same way someone shakes hands in greeting. He says, "Then it is an honor to meet you, Master Glint."

End ID]

[daneecastle]

Reversed Veil of Worlds

Pg 23 and 24

@goodomensafterdark

Final page of the chapter Future Aziraphale. YAY! Finally after their horrid kiss in season 2, they had to wait 2000 years to have a wet crying, "I miss you" kiss! Next chapter will be in two weeks. I need to catch up on other projects and prepare for the next chapter that will answer questions about this world that Rouge and Crowley live in. Koka's world will be chapter 3 .... or the end of 2. 😉

Fyi it is Rouge as in Red. Not Rogue as in the DnD class!

First - Previous - Next Chapter

(Thank you to those who have offered up wonderful songs to build a playlist. Im at 42 tracks.)

To see previous pages go to my Patreon (support will help me get them out faster) and/or Kofi (this has written details about each page).

https://www.patreon.com/posts/94109347?utm_campaign=postshare_creator

https://ko-fi.com/daneecastle

[luvmahae]

masterlist — previous— next!

notes: chapter 2 is finally out YAY!!! omg special guest appearance was daegal <3 i was literally working on this last night after my closing shift and i knocked the hell out... also pls lmk if i forgot anyone in the taglist bc i be forgetful sometimes iSorry yall 💔

taglist: @4amirwin @wonbin-truther @hearts4hee @jungaji @sundamariis @urlovelily @n0hyuck @dudekiss3r @injunnie-lemon @luvvhaechan @douqhnxtss @tynlvr @blamingontheboogie @haesluvr @hcluvie @pinknjm @nanaxwi @catpjimin @slayhaechan @awktwurtle @myfavoritedelusion @stqrgr7 @t-102 @jianreadsaus

[benispunk]

Who's that girl?

Chapter 2: Make Yourself At Home

Y/N's finally moving in! Boxes are unpacked, the fridge gains a new photo, and everyone starts to settle into this new living arrangement.

logan howlett x reader

TW: language, D&W, mentions of dark backgrounds and previous toxic relationships.

A/N: yay second chapter!! for the first few chapters we're going to explore our characters dynamics and then we'll get into business...hope you enjoy this story as much as I enjoy writing it!! Again my first language isn't English and I ain't no professional writer. Alright, enjoy🩷

→ this fic is inspired by the TV Show New Girl, Wade and Logan aren't Deadpool and Wolverine (no powers/mutant gene etc) but I did take most of their character traits and storyline!!

Masterlist / Previous Part / Next Part

The keys to the apartment jingled in Y/N’s hand, a symbol of the new chapter she was about to step into. She stood outside Logan and Wade’s door, nerves fluttering in her stomach. This was it. No going back. 

Before she could knock, the door swung open, revealing Wade’s grinning face. 

“Would you look at that! If it isn’t our brand-new roommate!” He threw his arms out dramatically, making Y/N laugh despite herself.

“I haven’t even stepped inside yet.” she teased.

“As if I cared,”  Wade waved dismissively. “You’re one of us now! Come on in!”

Wade grabbed one of her suitcases with one hand and a bag in the other, and tossed them behind him with an exaggerated spin, gesturing for Y/N to follow him. She stepped inside, her eyes scanning the apartment she’d be calling home. This was going to be great.

Logan was in the kitchen, standing next to the coffee machine with his arms crossed, looking as calm as ever. “Hey” he nodded at her. 

“Hi!” Y/N replied.

“All right, newbie! It’s time for your super detailed apartment tour! I know you already got one, but this is the official one now.” He grabbed her arm and started dragging her through the living room. “Here’s the couch. You can’t sit here—this is Logan’s spot, and he’s very territorial,” he said, winking at Logan, who flipped him the bird.

“Next up,” Wade continued, leading her to the kitchen, “this is where Logan cooks for us sometimes, because he’s basically a dad, and we’re his helpless children.”

“Will you shut the fuck up?” Logan cut in, without looking up from his cup of coffee.

Y/N laughed, feeling the tension in her shoulders ease with each step of Wade’s tour. It was chaotic, but in a way that felt right.

“House rule number one,” Wade declared, grabbing a chair and climbing up onto it, in the middle of the kitchen, “you can only eat the last slice of pizza if you’ve fought Logan in a duel. Bare-knuckle.”

Logan rolled his eyes but couldn't hide the small smile tugging at his lips. “I’m sorry, ignore him,” he said to Y/N, his tone softer now. “You’re allowed to have food. No duels required.”

Y/N smiled, grateful for his attempt to make her feel more comfortable. As they continued chatting and moving through the apartment, Wade’s constant jokes bouncing between the three of them, Y/N couldn’t help but feel an odd sense of belonging. She had expected the awkwardness of moving into a place with two guys she barely knew but instead, she found herself laughing and easing into the space as if it was meant to be.

“You know,” Wade said, pulling Y/N back to the moment, “there’s one more room you need to see.” He gestured dramatically toward the far side of the apartment. “Your room!”

Wade pushed open the door, revealing a cozy space with a window overlooking the street below. It was simple, but Y/N felt a wave of relief as she stepped inside. “You already showed it to me the other day, but this is perfect.” she said.

“We try,” Wade said, leaning against the doorframe. “Also, house rule number two-”

“No more house rules,” Logan interrupted, his voice cutting in like a knife through Wade’s chaos. He leaned against the wall, arms crossed, but his expression was softer now. “Just settle in. We’re glad to have you.”

Y/N gave him a grateful smile. She wanted to say something - whether it was about how great she was feeling right at this moment, or how she was so excited for what was about to come, she didn’t know - but instead, she nodded. “Thank you. I’m really happy to be here.”

Wade clapped his hands together, breaking the moment. “Good! Now that you’re officially part of this household, we need to throw you a welcome party!”

“Let her unpack first,” Logan muttered, his tone dry but amused.

As Wade launched into an enthusiastic plan for a future party, Y/N watched Logan from the corner of her eye. He didn’t say much, but the way he stayed close, ensuring everything was smooth, made her feel like she was already part of their world.

After a few hours of unpacking, Y/N had finally started to make her new room her own. It definitely wasn’t done, especially not in one afternoon, but it was coming together. Unboxing every box was exhausting, but satisfying. She could feel the space becoming hers with each personal touch. 

She stared at the walls for a few minutes, wondering what posters or pictures could adorn them, ones she didn’t have yet but could definitely order in an instant - not that she didn’t have any stuff to put on her walls, maybe she just needed an excuse to buy more stuff she didn’t need. But anyway, she was so excited.

By the time she’d finished for the day, the smell of dinner was coming from the kitchen. "Y/N, you okay in there?!" Wade's voice boomed through the wall.

Y/N laughed softly to herself and opened her door. "Yeah, I’m coming!" She stepped into the living room where Wade was dramatically arranging plates, acting like a five-star chef. Logan, meanwhile, sat at the table, rolling his eyes but with a hint of a smirk on his face.

"Your first official dinner with us," Wade declared, sliding a plate in front of her with a flourish.

“I call it ‘Mystery Meat Surprise.’”

Y/N raised an eyebrow, trying to hide a laugh. "Should I be worried?"

Logan snorted. "It’s just lasagna. Wade’s been practicing his introductions."

"Just lasagna?" Wade put a hand on his chest. « I put blood, sweat and tears into this meal.»

“For once.” Logan muttered, quietly enough for the other man not to hear.

“You really went above and beyond.” Y/N joked. Wade took his seat at the table and they started eating.

"Everything coming together?" Wade asked, grinning.

Y/N smiled. "Yeah, it’s finally starting to feel like a place I can relax in."

As they ate, the conversation flowed naturally. Wade, in his usual animated way, told a wild story about an encounter with an angry bar customer from the other night, while Logan added his dry commentary. Y/N was smiling the whole time, they really knew how to make her comfortable.

“So, Y/N,” Wade began, and maybe the comfortable comment was made too soon?, “tell us more about you. We know you’re a teacher, but what else? Any wild stories to share?”

Y/N smiled, but then hesitated. “Honestly, I’m not sure I have any. My life’s been pretty normal. Work, home, repeat.”

Wade scoffed, sitting up and narrowing his eyes playfully. “Bullshit. Everyone’s got something. What about that urgent move you had to make? That’s gotta have a story behind it.”

Y/N’s eyes widened slightly. She hadn’t planned on diving into that part of her life, but Wade’s bluntness left her with little choice. “Oh…that. Yeah, I guess you could say it was a little crazy.”

Logan looked up, sensing the shift in her tone. “You don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to,” he reassured her.

Y/N shook her head. “No, it’s okay. I just wasn’t expecting to talk about it tonight.”

She took a deep breath, glancing between the two men who seemed to be quite invested in what she was going to say. “I was living with my ex-boyfriend. We’d been together for a while, and at first, everything was great. But then he started changing—getting controlling, possessive. He didn’t like that I was working so much, or that I had friends outside of our relationship.”

Wade leaned forward, his expression uncharacteristically serious. “What happened?”

Y/N swallowed, feeling a lump in her throat as the memories resurfaced. “It got worse over time. He started showing up at my school, accusing me of things, making scenes in front of my students. The final straw was when he… he trashed our apartment while I was at work, thinking I was cheating on him because I stayed late for a parent-teacher conference. I came home to find everything destroyed—furniture, photos, everything.”

Wade gasped loudly and Logan’s jaw tightened, his hands clenched into fists. “Did he hurt you?”

Y/N shook her head quickly. “No, he never touched me. But I knew I had to leave. I packed what little I had left and stayed with a colleague until I found this place.”

There was a heavy silence in the room as her words sank in. Wade’s usual grin was replaced with a look of genuine concern, and Logan’s eyes were dark, his expression unreadable.

“I’m really sorry that happened to you,” Logan said finally, his voice low but full of sincerity.

“Yeah,” Wade added, his tone surprisingly soft. “That guy sounds like a total asshole. But you’re better off without him, trust me.”

Y/N nodded, feeling a strange mix of relief and vulnerability. “You’re right, I’m better off now. I just wish I had left sooner.”

Wade reached over, giving her hand a reassuring squeeze. “Well, you’re here now. And no one’s gonna mess with you while you’re living with us, right Logan?”

Logan nodded, his gaze still locked on Y/N. “Damn right.”

Y/N felt a warmth in her chest, a sense of safety she hadn’t felt in a long time. Despite everything she’d been through, she was starting to believe that maybe this move was the best thing that could have happened to her.

“Thanks, guys,” she said, her voice soft but sincere. “I really appreciate it.”

Wade raised his beer bottle in a mock toast, his grin returning. “To new beginnings. And to kicking toxic exes to the curb.”

Logan lifted his glass as well, a hint of a smile on his lips. “To new beginnings.”

Y/N clinked her glass with theirs, feeling a sense of camaraderie and belonging that she hadn’t expected to find so soon. This might just work out after all.

———

Just as they were finishing up dinner, Wade leaned back in his chair, looking up at the fridge behind him where several pictures were tacked up. “You know,” he said, pointing his fork at the fridge, “we’ve all got something personal up there. Me and Logan, anyway. You should add something of yours.”

Y/N blinked, glancing at the pictures on the fridge— some of Wade with his bar buddies, a few candid shots of Logan looking less than thrilled to have his picture taken, and even a couple of the two of them together, probably from a trip or some random party.

“I don’t really have anything with me...” she started, but then she paused, remembering.

There is something.

“Actually,” she said, “I think I can find something.”

She stood up from the table and headed to her room, searching through one of the few boxes she hadn’t fully unpacked. There, carefully wrapped, was a small, faded photo. It was a picture of her as a little girl, standing between her parents, all smiles. It wasn’t just any photo—it was one of the few physical reminders of her childhood.

She walked back to the kitchen, holding the photo delicately. "This," she said, showing it to them. "It’s from when I was a kid."

Wade took the picture and grinned. "A family classic," he said, nodding in approval. "It’s perfect."

Logan glanced at the photo, his expression softening just a bit. "You sure you want to put it up here?"

Y/N nodded. "Yeah. It feels right."

Carefully, she placed the picture on the fridge next to theirs. The three of them stood there for a moment, looking at it, a small but meaningful addition to their growing collection of memories.

Wade slung an arm around her shoulder, his usual playful grin on his face. "Well, now you can officially call this place your home."

Logan nodded in agreement and Y/N grinned.

“You guys are going to make me cry” She said and Wade immediately raised his arms in the air in panic.

“Oh no no no no, let’s do something else, we don’t deal with emotions that easily in this household.”

———

After the last box was emptied and most of her things were in their place, Y/N decided to take a moment to breathe. The room was still a work in progress, but it was starting to feel like hers. She stood by the bed, adjusting the pillows when a light knock on the doorframe caught her attention.

Logan leaned casually against the door, arms crossed. "Hey, just wanted to let you know, Wade’s out at his gig tonight. He’ll probably roll in late, so don’t be surprised if you hear him stumble in around midnight."

Y/N smiled, "Good to know. Thanks for the warning."

Logan returned the smile, a little more reserved as always. "No problem. How’s the room shaping up?"

"Getting there," Y/N replied, looking around at the half-unpacked boxes and the way her things were slowly finding their places. "Still feels a little strange, though. You know, first night and all."

Logan gave a small nod, his eyes scanning the room briefly. "It’ll feel like home soon enough," he said softly. "Anyway, I’ll leave you to it. Goodnight, Y/N."

"Goodnight, Logan."

Once Logan disappeared down the hall, Y/N returned to her work. She wasn’t quite ready to sleep yet— her mind still buzzing with the excitement of the day. After a while, she left her room with a stack of papers to grade, making her way to the living room. She settled on the couch, her focus consumed by her students' work as the time ticked by without her noticing.

She barely noticed the time slipping away as she worked through her stack of papers. The soft rustling of pages and the occasional scratch of her pen were the only sounds filling the living room. Her focus was sharp, and grading helped ease the whirlwind of emotions from moving in. This felt like the first time her parents let her sleep at her friend’s house, except she wasn’t a little girl anymore and this wasn’t her first time moving into a new place by herself.

It wasn’t until she heard the front door creak open that she snapped back to reality. Wade walked in, seeing her immediately. He flashed her a wide grin after closing the door behind him.

"Look who’s all settled in, Miss Teacher Lady," Wade teased. He dropped his keys on the counter and flopped onto the couch next to her without waiting for an invitation.

Y/N smiled back, amused by his energy. “How was your gig?”

“Oh, you know, killed it. I think I made one guy choke on his drink—not sure if I should be proud or worried about a potential lawsuit,” he replied, waggling his eyebrows. “What about you? Have you finally decided we’re not serial killers and it’s safe to stay here?”

Y/N laughed. “I’m still working on that one.”

“Good, good. Keep your guard up, never know when the knives come out,” Wade said dramatically, but then his expression softened. “Nah, seriously, you’re liking the place so far?”

Y/N glanced around the room. “Yeah, I like it. And you two are... interesting roommates.”

“Interesting? Is that a polite way of saying ‘Wade, you’re weird, but Logan’s got some kind of scary, brooding, mysterious vibe?’ Because if so, you’re spot on,” Wade chuckled. “Nah, but seriously, glad you’re here. Logan wouldn’t say it, but he’s stoked too.”

Y/N grinned. “Well, I’m really happy about that.”

He eyed her stack of papers. “What are you working on there, anyway? You grading the souls of innocent children?”

“Just some essays,” Y/N responded with a small shrug.

“Ah, essays. The bane of every student’s existence. But hey, if you ever need help with grading, I’m your guy. I’m great at making ‘C’ sound like ‘could’ve been worse’ and ‘B’ sound like ‘barely tried, but okay.’”

Y/N shook her head, laughing softly. “I think I’ll handle it for now.”

They chatted for a little longer, Wade effortlessly slipping between jokes and genuine questions about her life. He was easy to talk to, and despite his over-the-top personality, there was something comforting about his presence. Eventually, the fatigue of the day caught up to her.

“You heading to bed?” Wade asked, noticing her yawn.

“Yeah, I should,” she admitted, gathering her papers.

Wade nodded. “Alright, oh and— if you hear any weird noises in the middle of the night, it’s probably Logan sleep-talking. Or me… well, doing anything, really.”

Y/N smiled, standing up. “I’ll keep that in mind. Goodnight, Wade.”

“Good night, Teach,” Wade said with a wink, making her laugh one last time before she headed to her room.

XXX

[alkelkha]

𝐓𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐊𝐄𝐓. chapter four

relationship — jinx/powder x fem!blk coded reader

contents&warnings! : wc: 4.0k | post season 2 | lower-case indented | angst | heart to heart | just kiss already 🗣️ | non-sexual intimacy | fluff | mentions of them sharing the same bed | mentions of isha | these losers can't stay serious | yes reader has plot and yes i'm going through with it | not beta read | yes i am making this up along i go | author's note: i'm finally back after a month... don't come after me though! i'm literally in the middle of moving to a whole different state (not my choice).

❛❛ APOLOGIZE WITH FIREWORKS ❜❜

a careless toss of an envelope with this week’s paycheck slid off the desk. your eyes followed the movement. “you’re slacking, [name].” 

you’ve been slacking for the past two weeks. that’s how long it’s been since you and blue fought. you thought that she would come around and the two of you would hang out again like nothing happened, but of course, it didn’t. you were given straight radio silence, you even tried visiting her at her workshop and home. nothing.

she was your best friend and you hurt her to the point she’s shut herself in. was she even in there? was she ignoring you? did she run off? did she hate you now? did you just ruin everything? you couldn’t tell, it was like she locked herself in. this was killing you. 

every since she left it was like all the good things she brought with her did too. the endless laughter between the two of you, the satuation of the world. because of her you finally felt safe, your loan sharks finally stopped bothering you.

sometimes you think you see her (which you don’t). anything blue made you think of her, clouds too. you can’t bring yourself to eat the blue raspberry candy. 

the truth was that she was your good luck charm.

“do you want to lose this job?” big don’s voice rang in the office, snapping you back to reality. lose this job? this was the only job that could help pay off your debt that didn’t involve selling yourself, beating others half to death, and stealing. 

“i’ve been kind to you. i gave you this pussy job so you could pay me back with my own money.” he leans forward resting his clasped-together hands on the desk.

“but i see something,” the tall man raises from his seat. your breath got caught up in your throat and your heart quickened its pace. “…someone has made you sloppy. has taken your attention off of what is really important.” you knew what he meant and you couldn’t deny it. 

you have gotten sloppy with your work, clocking out a little bit early, and coming to work late more often— that was you when you and jinx started hanging out, but since jinx and you have gotten into that fight all of it got worse. “that new girl…” your eyes shot from the ground and straight to big don. the way he referred to her made your stomach turn. was he going to send his goons after her too.

“don’t—“ without thinking you stepped forward, you were about to walk up and slap him. good thing your mind caught up with you. yay, no bullet between your eyes!

“don’t what?” big don shot back at you, he stopped pacing and walked over to you. “run her out of flosnum? tie up the new girl in town? have some of my men give her a good beating? or maybe i’ll make you do that…” gulping at his implication you step back. you knew big don was sick, but surely not that sick?

right?

towering over you, two heads taller his dull dark eyes look down at you, his eyes make you feel so insignificant. you were nothing but a mere worker bee, “[insert sibling] may have escaped off to bilgewater. ixtal? ionia? who gives a fuck anymore. what matters is that one of you is here. one thing stands. your father’s debt.”

“get your act together or you’re on your own.” he then grips your hair, and with a harsh tug he pulls you closer to him. he smelt of cigarettes and mangos, “once you’re on your own i won’t care how and what you do to pay off the debt. sell your body for all i care.”

you left his office and went back to working at the bar. overtime. work for two weeks with no pay as punishment, which was mercy considering you've been waterboarded other times.

though you were starting to consider being waterboarded instead.

how long has it been? she can’t remember, there was no point in counting hours or days when she was in this state. 

her chipped painted nails scratched off her cuticles to the point they bleed. curled up in the middle of her room stuck in an unforgiving daze. a haze that consumed her mind and filled it with thoughts that pricked her brain as if they were needles.

she fucked up. again. and she doesn’t have the guts to try and fix it.

not that there was anything to fix, you were done with her. you hated her. you saw her as insane as soon as you saw her.

she was an idiot to show you that side of her. what made her think that this would be any different? danger or not, flosnum was not immune to her effect. 

her blue chopped hair now grown inches past her ears but not long enough to touch her shoulders, her bangs terribly long, and the purple dye worn out. the bonsai tree on her bedroom windowsill half dead. the irrigating bear under her bed where its voice is too far to catch. 

jinx. that’s who she was. she couldn’t fight it anymore. running from it has been deemed impossible even when she’s a sea away from piltover and zaun. 

metal and wood clanking against each other.

she could hear it, the small huffs, exhales, and sniffles. the light-weight pitter-patter danced around her.

isha.

jinx was greatness to isha. a haven. a symbol. someone worth protecting.

jinx could feel the vibrations from the floor bouncing back to her curled-up position. she had her knees to her chest and hid her face.

she couldn’t bring herself to look up. she was scared that if she looked up she would see her. if she did, she wouldn’t know what to do.

all those times she told off sevika that jinx was dead, isha was the one that kept the image of her alive. not a symbol of destruction— no longer just a loose cannon but a hero. 

powder was the one that died.

she thought that maybe if she could start over, it would all be from the beginning.

no jinx. just powder. the more she stayed on this tropical island she was reminded that she couldn’t be powder. 

to be honest, jinx liked isha’s version of jinx. the version that isha would play games, watch battles fight each other, fall asleep to her overly-dramatized exploits, graffiti on walls, and stargaze with. 

the careless dancing footsteps morphed into cautious ones and the steps were slightly heavier. 

step. step. step.

these footsteps didn’t seem as if they were sneaking up on prey, still, jinx refused to raise her head up from her knees, her eyes stayed shut. 

just ignore it.

she repeated those words, a mantra that got her through a handful of her episodes. unexpectantly, light fingertips grazed her shoulder, unsure if they could go further in the contact. 

hallucinations couldn’t touch her.

a low gentle voice “blue.” jinx felt all of her defenses fall. how pathetic that’s all it took.

you crouched down behind her. jinx’s back faced you, wearing only a pink tank top and wool shorts that showed off the blue clouds on the right side of her body.

the only reason you were able to get in was because you found a foolishly placed spare key sticking out from under a ceramic pot with a wilting flower.

you were tired of waiting.

“i’m sorry.” trying to shove down the heat rising to your face, you swallow. there was nothing more you hated than apologizing, which was ironic since you did it quite often. normally when you did it, it was out of fear or common courtesy.

sincerely apologizing on the other hand? the thought of you being the person in the wrong felt like a punch in the gut, but none of that mattered. 

the only thing you wanted right now was your friend back. “i’m so sorry. that day at the beach when i sighed it wasn’t towards you.” jinx was still. “that day was perfect and i ruined it. i made you feel that i didn’t enjoy it. i did! it’s just—“ you sucked in a breath before explaining.

“…i have a hard time living in the moment, i’m always thinking about my next shift. that i have my shift in this many hours, i’ll have to deal with rowdy customers in less than a day after, i have to pay off my debt.” she didn’t answer, it felt like you were talking to a brick wall.

“ever since you came into my life you have been what i look forward to.”

silence is all she gives you. not even a hum of acknowledgment. “blu—“ you couldn’t finish the nickname because of how shocked you were to see jinx finally turn her head towards you. you can only see her side profile due to the position the two of you are holding. 

the saturation of her vibrant red-violet eyes is now exhausted and dull. an alarm rang in your head. scrabbling from your knees you made it to in front of her to get the whole view of her. you needed to see all of her.

jinx’s closed-off position, her days-old makeup, unkempt hair, and lightweight. her head a bit more raised so she could look at you better as your eyes roamed around her body. 

her eyes.

her eyes were so doe and dull, the manic that she usually held in her eyes was nowhere to be found. this was the most vulnerable you’ve seen her yet there were still so many walls. 

she looked horrible.

you did this.

“[name]…”

her hoarse voice made your heart ache. gulping, pushing down the guilt. you slowly and carefully take her hands into yours. “let’s get you cleaned up, blue.”

the first thing you did was take off her makeup with a wet piece of cloth. you had no idea how long she had been like this, it looks like she had that same face of makeup for almost a week, probably more.

her cheeks were tear-stricken with dried-up mascara and eyeliner. her purple eyeshadow was worn out along with her smudged lipstick.

you washed her hair in the sink. she sat on a chair, her head leaned back as the faucet ran through her blue locks. your hands gently messaging her scalp, and then detangled everything with a brush.

the two of you didn’t talk at all. sitting on a stool your wrist moved in circular motions, washing her back.

she felt herself slowly come back to reality. the way you were being so careful with her as if she was worth being gentle to. were you doing all of this just to torment her?

surely you weren’t faking the affection in your touch? you wouldn’t do such a thing. you couldn’t. 

she felt her eyes burning up.

she felt the rough texture of the cloth exfoliating her skin, your hand carefully leading its way to her tattooed arm. your movements slow not wanting to have her pull away from your touch.

jinx lets out a ragged breath, louder than the scrubbing of her skin and water droplets. that was the first breath she let out since you came to her. your movement paused and went even slower. gentler. 

that’s when she bursts into tears. 

you froze up a bit hearing her choked sobs, “oh hon…” jinx’s shoulder shook as she leaned forward, away from you. her sobs only got louder and louder. saliva collected in her mouth and her face turned a pinkish hue.

putting aside the cloth you took her shoulders and pulled her back towards you, you wrapped your arms around her neck, and your head was right next to hers. “tell me what’s wrong.” you whispered in her ear, you didn’t bother hiding the tremor in your voice.

“please, talk to me. did i make you upset again?” you plead for her to talk to you.

“i’m sorry.” her sobs so broken that her voice cracks as she apologizes. “i’m sorry. i’m sorry.” she just shakes her head repeating herself over and over again.

“shh.” you say rocking the both of you side to side in an attempt to lull her sobs. “it’s okay, there’s nothing you need to apologize for. we both messed up.”

“i’m such a child, i ruined everything!” she hiccups, her sobs only worsened. she leans on you like a child seeking comfort.

“stop that. you ruined nothing, okay?” you tried to keep your voice firm.

“i made something out of nothing again and i pushed you away and now you hate me—”

you cut her off, “if i hated you would i be here right now?” 

“you will once i mess up again.”

sighing, you pinch her cheek. “it was a silly little fight, we got through it.”

jinx winces at the pinch but she doesn’t pull away instead, her cries lessen and her face scrunches up a bit. “what if we get into another fight?”

not letting go of her cheek you kept speaking, “we’ll get through it. even when i get irritated or mad with you, i’ll always come back to you.” she turns her head and you pull away to give her some space to move.

her eyes were bloodshot, her pink irises sparkled as if she was begging you to confirm your words. “you’re my best friend, things like this will always pass over, i promise.” 

jinx’s sobs were no more and what was left was her small sniffles as you got back to bathing her.

getting back together with you made jinx realize some things.

number one: you would never ever ever ever leave her no matter what! 

this meant she could do anything without you leaving her. like sleeping together in the same bed and kicking you off.

number two: the two of you were practically made for each other!

she has been clinging onto every second of the day and you welcomed it with open arms. (well other than the times she’s stalking you, but you don’t need to know that!) has she gotten more childish with you? maybe.

it was your day off so per usual you were with her, instead of rotting together at her workshop the two of you went out for ice cream and window shopped. the two of you walked side by side in the blazing heat, jinx’s arm hooked on yours. 

usually, she would complain and complain in this weather and end up with sunburns which you had to tend to. these days she wouldn’t, it was like she grew up with flosnum. she wore a mismatched bikini top and stockings, low rise shorts black and pink shorts, and black boots with pink laces. “new style?” you raised a brow.

“just matching the weather.” jinx licks the dripping cotton candy ice cream from her cone. the undercity wasn’t hot like flosnum. it was humid at best but mostly cold. hell, she felt the warmth of sun on her skin more on her first week here than she did her whole life in zaun.

going on your route you spot a jewelry vendor, something catches your eye. mindlessly pulling away from her to go check it out jinx furrows her brows, she follows behind you. your eyes were on the turtle trinket. the jewels on it sparkled like no other.

stupid.

jinx’s finger hooks on the loop of your bottoms and pulls you closer to her side. she bends over a bit to get a better look at the stupid trinket. “oh come on, toots, you don’t need this. you already have that ugly turtle pendant.”

you smack the back of her head and she whines. “my necklace is not stupid!” you defend the bronze hanging around your neck. “besides, i wasn’t going to buy it….” your eyes trail to the price tag, the sight causes you to frown. “way too expensive anyway.” you turn on your heels and walk away from the vendor. 

she watches you walk away and back to the turtle trinket. it was ugly. tacky too. you wouldn’t look good in it.

jinx shrugs and catches up with you, she loops her arm with yours licking her ice cream once again with a stolen trinket in her pocket.

number three: she missed chaos.

because of that, she’s going to blow up at tonight’s festival. she’s been working on it the day after you bathed her, tucked her into bed, and fell asleep in bed with her. which was six days ago.

don’t worry. don’t worry. she’s not going to kill anyone. she was done with that, instead, these bombs were going to make a teenie tiny little mess.

today’s festival was in honor of the day flosnum successfully defended itself against bilgewater, many lives were lost due to the battle. which was an incredible feat now that jinx thinks about it.

anyways, that doesn’t matter! what matters is that she wants to ruin it. 

it’s the most jinx thing she can do.

somehow the paradise was infinitely more vibrant under the dark sky. maybe it was the twinkling stars, the glowing plants, and the fairy lights. everyone gathered in the streets, adorned in tropical garlands. the two of you held a stick, the tip burned bright, sparkling. 

normally, jinx’s mind would be on how gorgeous your smile was, but today she was too excited to even think properly. she was too happy to fuck the celebration up. she had already planted the bombs. 

the air was filled with a sweet and fruity scent of exotic flowers. your sweet laughter echoed in her mind finally snapping her out of it. “what’s got you so happy, blue?” she asked, pointing out her dumb smile.

jinx dropped the stick, “follow me.” she grabbed onto you forcing you to do the same and follow behind her. 

there was so much of everything. people, noise, lights, smells. you canvas through the streets and she takes you onto her workshop’s rooftop. though her workshop was placed in a shady alleyway, the view she had up top was breathtaking.

her rooftop was decorated with random cut-up fabrics, unfinished projects (aka junk but she won’t let you call it that), and colorful lanterns. the stars painted the night sky, the jinx sat on the rooftop ledge. being the more cautious one you tried not to, but she forced you anyway.

“we’re best friends, right?” jinx slowly turns her head to you, your eyes are on the ground, watching the people below. 

“i sure hope so,” you snort. realizing that it wasn’t the right time to joke you backtracked, “of course we are, the best of friends.” you didn’t look back but that didn’t make your response any less sincere.

her red-violet eyes trace your side profile. you were pretty like this, with the colors of the lanterns illuminating off of you. the color blue graced your brown skin and the coils of your hair. it was almost as beautiful as when the sunlight would kiss your skin.

jinx wasn’t sure when it started. “it” being when she became so attentive to you. maybe, it was the day she first saw you behind the counter of her now workshop. maybe, it was the day she crashlanded and you saved her.

the topic of the day she crashlanded was never brought up between the two of you. jinx wasn’t sure if you were aware that she knew.

jinx should’ve forgotten about you that day, her vision was hazy and smoke filled her lungs— her mind shouldn’t even have registered the details of you. but she did.

the key detail she remembered?

it was that stupid bronze necklace.

the ugly piece of metal that is still hanging around your neck. it looks as if it was handmade. well maintained yet specks of chipped-off green paint on the turtle’s shell.

“good,” jinx smiles at your answer. her hand reaches into her pocket and your eyes follow, her fist closed around not letting you know what it is just yet. “because i wanted to give you something.”

your eyes finally lock with hers. “i’m not good with words. i’m not good with my actions either.” her vibrant eyes shift away from yours, but she forces herself to keep eye contact with yours. “i fuck shit up. always. as soon as something good comes in my life it’s taken away, by my hand or something else.”

jinx couldn't find the right words, she didn't even know where she was going with this. “i ruin everything,” she laughed bitterly, her eyes searched yours to see if you were annoyed by your senseless rambling, but you didn’t. you listened, waiting for the next words to come out of her mouth.

“i’m jinxed. it’s in my name.”

jinx looks down at her hand, her fist is holding onto the mystery item tightly. then her fingers hesitantly open up her fist, revealing what’s in the palm of your hand. you look down. this feeling in your stomach, it flips and flutters. “blue, is this—“

“jinx,” she didn’t let you get a sentence in. “that’s my name.”

jinx...so that was blue's name. oddly enough, it fit her perfectly. she didn't look like a sasha, cassie, hannah, or kate. for someone as cool as her she should have an equally cool name.

“that’s so cool!” your eyes twinkle, filled with excitement, completely ignorant to the significance of this moment.

when the words left your mouth jinx left hundreds of degrees hotter. a warmth blazed through her body. no one has ever had this type of reaction to her name.

“so, you’ve been cool you’re whole life, huh?” you scrunch up your face in mock jealousy. “cool hair. cool talents. cool personality. cool name. you’re just a package, aren’t you, jinx?”

why did she like her name coming from your lips so much?

trying to hide her flustered state she puts on a cocky front, “enough of how cool you think i am. are you going to take my gift or not?” she dangles the trinket in front of your face. “you stole it.” you blink at her unamused. still you took it from her hand. “says who? you think i can’t afford something like this?” she tilts her head, raising a brow. 

“then what’s this?” you point to the tag. 

she looks at it and grumbles. after pulling it off she then put on a faux innocent smile. “what’s what?” seeing how your unamused expression didn’t waver she sighed in defeat. “i just wanted to do something for you, you deserve tiny luxuries like this. maybe it could bring you some luck too. a lucky charm.”

her words managed to make you loosen up. your face softens. “thanks, hon, but i already have a lucky charm.”

jinx’s squints her eyes at you, “wait, you do?”

"i'm talking about you, jinx."

jinx, a lucky charm? how ironic. se had always been the cause of trouble, never the solution. when she did try to find one it only made everything worse. but here the two of you are. you hailed her as your lucky charm. a good omen.

she lets out a bark of laughter, she laughs with her full chest. all of this was too surreal it was making her head spin. 

POW POW POW

with distant bangs a cloud of red, then purple, then green, then blue. the town square exploded with a flurry of colorful dust. the dust danced in the sky and fell back down onto the cobbled ground as if it were snowfall.

oh right. jinx forgot about those.

the two of you whip your heads to the noise to see the mayhem going on. 

their faces being painted with the colorful dye. the locals dance and twirl along with the ongoing blasts of the bright vibrant powder into the air. children rushed trying to catch the falling powder, some even making angles on the ground.

your eyes snap wide with amazement at the view, “oh my gods!” no way in hell were you going to miss out on something like this. you carefully get off the rooftop ledge and pull jinx with you. 

“get your ass up, let’s join the fun!”

screams, panicked voices, and people trying to take cover, that’s what jinx expected. not the sound of flosnum residents’ laughter and cheers. her plans to cause chaos failed.

she really was a jinx.

TAGLIST: @millie2point0 @powderbomb-jinxed @velvetinkbym

[momoswifee]

The Fall

Pairing: Mina x fem!reader

Synopsis:  "Have you ever gotten everything you ever wanted? No, but I once got very close."

Warnings: Grief, death mention, overworking, depression, alcohol consumption, isolation.

w/c: 2997

A/n: Hi!! I'm sorry for taking so long but yay! final chapter!! I'm so happy I finally finished this, I hope everyone who read all of this has enjoyed it, and thank you all for supporting me on this and for reading it!! I'm sorry if this feels rushed by the end, I really tried to write a good ending but yeah. I hope you guys enjoy it!

Part 1 - Part 2 - Part 3 - Part 4

“Mina, you really didn’t have to...” Your father says, smiling at the box she had brought.

“They’re your favourite, I have a shop near my apartment that sells them so it really isn’t that big of a deal…” she dismisses, handing him the expensive box of chocolates. 

“They were her favourite too…” He whispers, smiling at the thought, as he looks down at it. The contrary feeling washes through her. Every time she walks down the street she instinctively looks at it and wishes to go in, to get one of those ridiculously expensive boxes, bring it home and get drunk on your memory. 

Two years had passed, two whole years without you, and she felt like it was yesterday that they took you to the operating room and took you away from her. She had kept her word and had come to your parent's house for dinner occasionally, to remember you, to let them see her as an extension of their kid. 

As soon as she went through the door, a big white ball of fur almost tackled her to the ground. “Hey honey” she says, laughing as Otis excitedly pushes himself onto her, trying to get close. “I missed you too.”

Three months after your passing, Mina had already gone on the press tour, she had already attended the premier, everything to do with her most recent movie was done, and she had nothing to occupy her mind with anymore.

She only had herself, in her big empty apartment to worry about. Otis had been sent to your parents when she started the press tour, she couldn’t take care of him properly. She had never gone to pick him up after.

Once she was home, she could barely get out of bed, she didn’t talk to anyone, she didn’t answer any calls. She just laid there and thought about how you weren’t with her. At one point she did think about going to get Otis back, he was the only thing she had left of you. But as soon as she got in the car, she realized that she hadn’t been good to him, to the only thing you had left behind. If she wasn’t being good to him, she didn’t deserve him. He had gotten older, he was 10 now, and she had met him when he was 3, but he still greeted her the same.

“You’ve been working a lot,” Your mom starts, once they’re all at the table. “Have you been taking care of yourself?”

“I have a pretty good agent,” Mina replies, laughing, trying to show that she is happy with it, that it is something that she’s doing because she knows it’s good for her career. “I’ve been offered pretty good opportunities, I’m just trying to make the best out of it.”

The truth is, she took on the most challenging jobs possible so that she never had to think about you more than she had too. She needed to keep you out because it had been two years and if she heard a sound of a leave being crunched while she was walking she would automatically think that it was you who was coming to her. If she heard someone knock at her door, she would think that it was you who was knocking. Every time she went to the supermarket and decided to buy oranges, she would freeze because it reminded her of your citrus smell, she decided to just not consume oranges again. The mere mention of hockey would almost send her into a spiral. 

She hated that she would spend more time remembering you, than she had spent by your side, so, she focused on everything that had nothing to do with you. She would become another person, she would impersonate the character, she would absorb their essence and forget you. 

After lunch, Mina offered to take Otis on a walk, to go into the town, maybe get some groceries if needed. “Have you been having fun, buddy?” She asks, receiving an almost enthusiastic bark from him. She missed him, but she knew it was for the best.  

She hadn’t been to the town for a while, now usually her parents went to her, they knew she wanted to avoid it. At maximum, she would go to only their house or your parents and then leave. She honestly surprised herself when she offered to take Otis on a walk to town.

Once she had reached the center, what she saw first was your old shop, now turned bakery. She remembered the talk with your parents, how it was just you who was working there, there really was no need to keep it open, it would be best to leave the spot open for another business. 

The little bakery looked good, she got curious. She got closer. Inside were little cakes, cookies of all forms, pastries of all kinds, everything you used to love. A little tug from Otis prompted her to slightly look to her left, and there Jihyo was. She felt her heart stop. She had let her hair grow, her face had more set features, her smile lines still intact. She was laughing with some friends. She looked happy, so she did what she did best, she ran away. 

☾

“So we have a scheduled photoshoot until 4 pm and right after that you’ll be doing that interview because of your most recent nomination…”

Oh yeah, the nomination. Her role had been moving to many, so she had been told, it had been good enough to be considered for one of the biggest awards there were: an Oscar. 

“The driver will be there to pick you up after the shoot, and I’ll meet you at the script read ok?” Her manager, Miyawaki Sakura, an angel sent from heaven, said. 

Sakura, although a bit younger than Mina, had always been there for her, and more recently, had been trying to help her skyrocket her career as well as keep her healthy. After she had heard what had happened with her last manager, the over working, the whole episode where she went to the hospital, all she wanted was for Mina to have a safe and healthy environment at work, while still achieving her career goals. 

While she was being photographed, watched by people she didn’t know, all she could do was pose, blank her mind, just do whatever she was told. While she was being interviewed she did more of the same, answered the questions simply, always showing gratitude, always with her practised smile plastered on her face. 

“So Mina! First, congrats on the nomination!” The interviewer kindly says. “I’m sure this feels like a dream! I’m sure you’re getting closer to everything you’ve ever wanted right?”

She smiled politely and agreed with a nod. She continues to answer the questions with an almost excited tone, with a beaming smile. But in the back of her mind, she only heard a series of “no’s” being said right after the kind woman in front of her had asked if she had got closer to everything she had ever wanted. If she had asked this in the early days of her career, she would’ve said yes and meant it. If this had been asked before you had been taken away from her, she would’ve said yes and meant it. Now she said this half-heartedly, only wishing to go back to when she actually had everything, when she had you. 

☾

“She looked happy…” Mina says, a lingering smile on her face as she dusts off the leaves that had fallen on her. “I know you would be disappointed in me for not going up to her, but what could I possibly say to her after all this time?” 

You don’t answer, obviously, you’re not there. There’s only your gravestone with the flowers Mina had brought with her. Purple Hyacinths. 

“I miss you,” she whispers, picking out the little brown leave that rested on top of the stone. You loved autumn. The colours, the leaves, the nights with the soft rain sounding out. She was glad you had been put beneath such a big tree, that now displayed such fiery colours. 

After almost forgetting his presence, Otis makes himself known by huffing as he lays down his head on Mina’s lap, as he stares at the stone in front of them. 

All of this is way too familiar to Mina, taking Otis to see you had become a common outing, and she wishes it hadn’t. She longed for the days that he would run through the orange and red leaves happily while you held her hand and admired the seasonal sight. She hated having to come here with Otis and watch him slowly walk through those same coloured leaves, almost as if he was dreading having to face your grave, just as she was. 

☾

“Otis give it back!” 

Mina felt strange. She felt warm. The sun was hitting her just right, she felt so good. The breeze was hitting her face gently, the sound of splashing water, the birds above her, the branches of the trees swaying with the light breeze. It was perfect. 

“Well, I guess he just doesn’t want to play catch.”

A voice. Oh and what a sweet voice it was. 

“Hm, I’m sure just needs a little break.” She says, smiling instinctively at the person in front of her. The sun blinding her eyes, just letting her see the silhouette. 

“In the meantime I’ll keep you company” It says, sitting right next to her, offering her a smile. Your smile. 

You’re there. You’re there with her. 

She touches your hand, it’s warm. She can feel the heat travel through her body. 

Her right hand, as if gaining a mind of its own, goes straight to your face and her fingers trace your soft features. 

You look at her in amusement, already used to this kind of behaviour. Your smile is quickly replaced by a frown. “Mina, what’s wrong?”

Only then does she notice that she was crying. She doesn’t know why. Everything was fine. 

“I don’t know” Mina laughs, wiping her tears, leaning in to briefly kiss your soft warm lips. 

Everything was perfect. 

“Want to join me in the water?” You whisper into her lips, her hand at the back of your neck, not letting you get away from her that fast. 

The sun was so comforting against her back. She no longer felt that weird sensation. She was good. 

“I think I should stay here for now…” She whispers. 

“Ok.” You get up, gently taking her hand away from yours. “I’ll be waiting for you.” 

You send her a small, sad, smile as you leave, going in Otis direction. 

Suddenly a big thud is heard and Mina jolts awake in a cold sweat. She notices that the left side of the bed is empty. 

“Yn?” She quietly calls. Maybe you had gone to the bathroom. Before she thinks about getting up, she looks over to your side of the bed, and at your night stand, lay your dusty glasses. 

 She hated these dreams. She never knew they were dreams, it felt like she was back with you again. She couldn’t appreciate those fictitious moments because she never remembered that you were gone when she entered that dream state. 

You never left her head, you were constantly present, but in the past few weeks, you had come to see her more often as soon as she fell asleep. She would not be able to lie and say that she had been more excited lately to follow a more strict sleep schedule, it was, however, torture, waking up and not having you by her side. 

☾

Her throat burned. Every step she took felt like she was going to fall face down on the dirt. The bottle in her hand getting lighter with each step she took.

“I hate you” She spits out as soon as she sees you. “I hate you. I hate that I won one of the most prestigious awards there are and still the only thing I had on my mind was your name.”

Y/n, Y/n, Y/n, Y/n

It was all that was going through her head as she delivered her heartfelt speech. 

“Why can’t you just let me go,” she brokenly whispers as she kneels next to you. Her gold coloured dress now stained with dirt. “It feels like you haunt me, I can never live just a day without thinking about you, and it kills me” 

She says this, knowing that she doesn’t let herself move on. She left your shared house, she left your clothes, your precious peach trees behind. She even left Otis. 

She did however bring your glasses and pose them on a night stand next to her bed, she still wears her engagement ring around her neck, she still hasn’t thrown in the trash your little shampoo bottle you kept at her house, nor all your expired skincare products. Every morning she would wake up, gently massage her face with her precious serum while staring at yours. 

“Some days I wish I had never met you,” The burn down her throat now had become familiar. “I wish I hadn’t met you, so I could live a happy life.” 

Right after those words left her mouth she feels tears streaming down her face. It’s all a lie, the best thing that had ever happened to her was you. It wasn’t the stupid award she had just won, it was the life she had envisioned with you. 

Finally, she starts to feel like her knees are burning so she decides to just rest her body on the stone.

“You promished you wouldn’t leave” she slurs out. “I can’t do this without you…” 

Before she can even try to say anything again, she feels someone’s hand on her shoulder. She allows herself to think that it is you. That you had finally come to take her with you. 

“Mina-” 

Momo. 

“Mina, what are you doing here?” The oldest asks, taking in the sight in front of her. Mina resting against your tombstone, her once golden dress now stained with dirt, her make-up completely ruined. 

“I missed her.”

What was she supposed to say? That she came to yell at you to stop haunting her life? That she lied through her teeth when she had told her cousin about how well she was doing, how excited and anxious she was to learn about the award when in truth she couldn’t care less? 

Thankfully, Momo didn’t press for answers, she just took the bottle from her hand and helped her up, promising to take Mina home and helping her get better. 

On her way home, all she wanted to do was to beg Momo to take her back. She just wanted to be with you. 

☾

Momo hadn’t left her side since her escapade to see you. She stayed with her and kept her company, not wanting to see her baby cousin so distraught and alone. While she did appreciate the caring nature of the oldest girl, all she needed was to be alone. She had already asked Sakura if any job offers or any interesting roles had come up. She just wanted to get back to normal. 

She hadn't been sleeping properly, always too afraid of seeing you in her dreams. The stress of not having any work also didn't help, she felt useless. She had already, deep cleaned the house, re-arranged her closet, bought new curtains, and installed them herself. She needed to keep busy.

“Momo you really don’t have to stay here,” She sighs out, already tired of this recurring conversation. 

“I’m not leaving you alone. Mina, no one knew where you were, you just vanished. Sakura called me worried sick!” Momo exclaims. “I’m not trying to suffocate you, I just want to know that you’re alright.”

“And I am,” She says, trying to sound as reassuring as possible. “It was a moment of weakness, I’ve been missing her for a while." She stops. "I’m alright.”

"I-" Momo starts sighing. "You've been trying to keep busy, but have hardly slept. Try to sleep," she says, getting up from her seat. "You must be tired. I have to go to work now, but I'll be back when you wake up alright?"

She thinks about Momo's suggestion after she leaves. The truth is, she doesn't want to sleep. She's just afraid she will see you again in her dreams and not be able to remember and not appreciate her moments with you.

Unfortunately, sleep is stronger than her and she is knocked out before she knows it.

☾

"Are you sure you don't want to get into the water? It's actually pretty nice!"

She remembered everything.

There you were, inside the lake, softly smiling at her, waiting for her response.

She gets up and walks to you. She sits on the pier and lets her feet soak in the water.

It does feel nice.

Your hands go to hold her legs, gently rubbing them.

"I missed you." You whisper as you look up to her.

Her hand goes straight to your face. She can feel your skin. Every bump, every almost-healed acne scar. She can feel you.

"I'm here now." Mina says, looking into your eyes. The eyes she had fallen in love with.

And then she jumps into the water to be with you. All she feels is warmth. She feels your hands holding her waist and pulling her closer. She opens her eyes and sees that you had dipped with her. It reminds her of when you used to kiss her underwater, so she goes and brushes her lips on yours, melting into your touch when you pull her closer to properly feel her lips on yours.

She's happy, and she doesn't even think about ever going up to breathe.

She's with you at last.

[smartkookiee]

Wounds We Never Show // Ch.2 - jjk.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.・。.・ ❥pairing: Jungkook x Reader (she/her, afab) ❥genre/rating: 18 +explicit content, enemies to lovers, enemies to friends to lovers, enemies with benefits, these two really do hate each other ❥chapter warnings/tags: SMUUUTTT (mdni), protected sex (stay safe kids), dry humping, cum eating??, fingering, so much kissing, doggy, really confused about their feelings fr, they still hate each other, yay Melanie and Namjoons wedding hehe, drinking, swearing, Jungkook continuing to be a little shit ❥word-count: 13.9k (I'm so sorry its another monster) ❥Series Masterlist Previous Chapter ||❥|| Next chapter ❥Playlist fic is cross posted to ao3 send an ask or comment on post to be added to the taglist! .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.・。.・

“So… is that a yes?”

“I-…” Your mouth was moving before your mind could, “Okay.”

Jungkook blinked, staring at you like he wasn’t sure if you had actually said “okay” or if he’d just imagined it. He looked completely caught off guard. Honestly, you couldn’t blame him. You were pretty shocked yourself.

The word still hung between you both, heavy with the weight of the sheer stupidity of what you’d just agreed to. You half-expected him to start laughing, for you to snap out of whatever spell had come over you and tell him to go to hell.

But no one moved. Neither of you even took a breath.

Jungkook’s eyebrows shot up, surprise etched across his face. Clearly, he’d expected you to kick his ass, maybe curse him out, not... this.

It felt bizarre. The longer you sat with the idea, though, the more it made a twisted kind of sense. Maybe it was because you’d already agreed to this ridiculous plan in your head before your mouth even caught up. Because, as much as you hated to admit it, this was probably going to work better than the endless cycle of arguments. But also, by agreeing to this, you were, by extension, agreeing with Taehyung’s dumb, immature logic.     

So in this moment—yes—you were dumb.

You thought back to your last hookup. It had been... disappointing, to say the least. You wanted something better. Needed it, actually. But this? Jungkook? Not what you had in mind, exactly.

“Okay,” Jungkook finally broke the silence, rubbing the back of his neck as if he couldn’t believe you’d gone along with his idiotic suggestion. He was clearly thinking through how the hell he’d come to agree with Taehyung’s logic himself.

He’d spent years watching Taehyung bury his problems in a series of meaningless hookups, laughing it off as Taehyung’s way of handling things. But deep down, Jungkook envied it. Taehyung took life so casually, like nothing really mattered. Jungkook never had that luxury. Not in the last few years, at least.

“So, uh... do we, like, hold hands or something?” you asked, unable to stop the awkwardness from bubbling up. Because really, what else could you say? You couldn’t even figure out how to broach the subject of touching each other, let alone jumping straight to that.

It was like the two of you had never spoken before, it was strange. 

“Seriously? Hold hands? What are we four?” Jungkook teased trying to cut the tension and you groaned. 

“I don’t know! This is uncharted territory!” You move away from the building wall and start pacing back and forth, Jungkook just watching you. 

You just stayed like this for a moment going back and forth. Maybe being a little like Taehyung is what he needed. This just wasn’t the way he expected it to end up, and least of all with you. 

Jungkook wasn’t really the hook up type, let alone hook up at a wedding. Yet here you two were, playing out the most common wedding hookup cliche. The best man and the maid of honor.

You let out a long groan before you looked directly at him. 

“This is a one time thing.” You say quicker than you can think. You needed to stop thinking, just do.

“Okay.” He was sure in his tone.

“Fine.”

A beat, for the first time ever you two were in full agreement. Jungkook decided that it needed to happen now or never before the two of you thought to much about it. He walked away from you, going to the door back into the hotel. He didn’t look back until he realized that you weren’t following.

“Well, are you coming?” He nodded his head in the direction inside the door. 

“Oh we are doing this now?”

Then your feet were moving. Without a word, he held the door open for you and followed you inside. Without some protest, Jungkook grabbed onto your wrist, almost like he wanted some contact with you. Jungkook pulling the two of you into the nearest elevator, pressing a button to what you assumed was his floor. 

And then the doors closed.

You both stood in silence for a moment, standing side by side. Jungkook then stood in front of you, the hand that was on your wrist made its way up your arm to your face. 

“What are you doing?” You pulled back for a moment and your voice was a little shaky, flinching away from him. Old habits die hard.

Jungkook would never admit this to you but he was nervous. Maybe more nervous than you but he would bury that down for now.

“Oh you know, I was going to kiss you.” The words felt gross coming out of his mouth. Kissing you after all is the last thing he ever thought he would do.

“Oh.” You realized yeah, you probably should kiss. Maybe a good place to start. You were deep in thought before you realized how close you and Jungkook were. Bodies almost pressed against each other. “Yeah go ahead.” 

The only sound was the hum of the elevator filling the space. It felt so silent as you looked between Jungkook's eyes. For a moment he hesitated but then decided to just go for it. Kissing you softly at first. He tasted like cigarettes, and it was a little overwhelming. Not as gross as you thought though. His hands had now found a place on your waste and pressed your whole body into his. Without you really thinking about it one of your arms had wrapped around his neck and the other was wrapped in his hair. 

The two of you begging silently for another kiss.

It was the only thing you two did on the short ride, just kissed, dipping your toes into the shallow end of your possible mistake. The elevator rang, causing both of you to split apart as fast as you could. The feeling of your mouth weighing on Jungkook's mind.

 A memory from college came to the front of your mind. 

“What? I’m a pretty good kisser I’ll have you know. I have references.” 

You don’t know why you remembered it now, all you could think was that: he wasn’t lying about that.

You both peered around the corners of the hallway, a silent understanding passing between you as you checked to make sure no one familiar was nearby. The hallway was unnervingly quiet, the soft thud of your heart echoing in your ears as Jungkook’s hand brushed against yours. He fumbled for his key, hands steady despite the electricity buzzing in the air. The lock clicked, and he hastily opened the door, pushing it open and gesturing for you to step inside.

The room was surprisingly tidy. Too tidy, like he’d barely even been in here.

“Huh. It’s smaller than mine,” you muttered, unable to stop yourself, that competitive streak rearing its head. It was a childish comment, but you were already grasping for control in the situation—anything to anchor yourself.

Jungkook ignored and he grabbed your wrist and spun you around, his lips meeting yours again. The taste of cigarettes filled your mouth, flooding your senses. His fingers pressed into your waist, as if he was trying to push the world away and keep you both in this moment. You kissed him back fiercely, but something was building in your chest—a knot of panic twisting tighter and tighter.

You broke away first, breathing hard, pressing your hands against his chest to put space between you. “Woah, okay.”

He paused, looking at you, his chest heaving. “You okay?”

You shook your head, the room suddenly feeling too small, the walls too close. You raised your hands like you were warding off some invisible force. “God, this feels... weird. Is this not weird for you?”

Jungkook exhaled and leaned back, running a hand through his hair. “It’s weird,” he admitted, though his tone suggested he wasn’t entirely sure what made it weird—just that it was.

You paced in a tight circle, your fingers twitching. “I don’t know, I feel... confused. Like everything inside me is screaming that this is wrong, but I don’t know why. It’s like my head is split down the middle and I can’t—”

“Y/N—”

“And I can’t stand you,” you continued, voice rising, “but for some reason, I agreed to this. Like, maybe I’ve just got some kind of self-sabotaging streak? What is wrong with me?”

Jungkook moved closer, trying not to let you chatter annoy him. “Y/N.”

You met his gaze, finally stilling, but your heart was racing, chest tight with the weight of your own thoughts. His eyes were calm, though you could see the same uncertainty hiding behind them. He had already made up his mind, you could tell, but the awkwardness of it still clung to the space between you.

“Are you in, or are you out?”

The question hung in the air for a second longer than you liked. You blinked, your throat dry. “I was in. But now I don’t know. I can’t get past... being with you. You of all people.” Your fingers picked at the skin around your nails, searching for an answer you couldn’t find.

Jungkook stood there, thinking for a moment. “Then pretend I’m not me.”

“What?” You give him a confused look. 

“Maybe we just pretend like we don’t know each other. Like we just met. So I’m not Jungkook…  the guy I know you want to kill.” He teases and it actually lightens the mood a little. “I’m just… someone at a wedding, you’re also just someone at a wedding. I’m not me.” 

A small smile actually seems to creep on your face for a moment, you have to catch yourself. “You’re not you.” 

“I’m not me.” 

“And I’m not me?”

“Exactly. We’re just two strangers.” He stepped closer, and you felt the gravity between you shift again. “Does that make it easier?”

You stared at him for a moment, your heart hammering as the absurdity of the whole thing began to ease the pressure in your chest. Slowly, the tension began to melt into something else. Something that felt almost like... freedom.

“Okay.” You found yourself nodding. “You’re not you. And I’m not me.”

Jungkook smiled, taking that as confirmation, his fingers brushing your cheek again, this time softer. His touch sent a shiver down your spine, but this time it wasn’t panic. It was something hotter, more dangerous.

“See?” His voice was quiet, almost a whisper. “Just two strangers.”

He stepped forward, and before you could second-guess yourself, you closed the distance. You kissed him again, but this time it felt different—deeper, like the weight of everything that had been holding you back was gone. His hands found your waist, pulling you closer, and you let yourself be pulled, let yourself sink into the kiss, the moment. Just two people—no history, no hate—just... heat. 

You both stumble your way back to the bed, kicking off your shoes in the process. As you both just let yourselves live in the feeling rather than who it was with. Everything started to move faster and the intensity between the two of you got heavier. Jungkook detached himself from your lips onto the exposed skin on your neck. You found yourself leaning into it easily.Jungkook paused for a moment, his fingers tracing along the straps of the dress you wore. 

“Can I take this off?’ He says lowly into your ear. 

Both of your minds were quiet. Here it was, no going back after this. 

“Yes.” Your voice almost gets caught in your throat. 

He very slowly slips the straps off your shoulders. Your dress falling down the rest of the length of your body to the floor.  Jungkook takes a pause, he had hoped somewhere deep inside him that you wouldn’t look good under your dress, but of course you did. You still had your bra and underwear on but he knew you’d probably look great without those as well. How incredibly annoying he thought. 

“Listen I know I’m hot but you don’t have to stand there and stare.” You felt like you needed to move your hands to cover yourself. 

Jungkook rolled his eyes, “I wasn’t starring.”

“Yeah right.” Your hand found your way to his tie, beginning to undo it and pulling it off him. Jungkook following by undoing the buttons on his shirt.

“Eager are we?” He teases, it was too playful for what you were familiar with. Almost made you cringe but you pushed the feeling away.

“Says the one who took my dress off.” 

He pulls his shirt off once the buttons are undone. You wanted to maybe deny for a bit that he did in fact have a nice body and you kissed him again. It left you breathless so quickly, your head was spinning. With some quick movements you moved back onto the bed and Jungkook held himself above you. He kissed down your neck and then down your chest, his mouth was warm against you with every kiss. 

Oh god, you thought.

The suddenness of all of this though had gotten you soaked in your underwear and it was going to be embarrassing for him to see. As he inches closer you close your legs rather quickly.  Only this one time, Jungkook was going to have this effect on you. 

“Spread your legs for me, darling.” He looked up to you and he placed both of his hands on your knees trying to pry them open, you denying him the satisfaction. 

“No.” You were very clearly teasing him and sat up, which allowed you to see the full sight of him, shirtless, kneeling in front of you. Never thought this would be something you would ever see. “And darling? What are we married now?” 

“That would be my nightmare.” He shivers at the thought. 

“Yeah I’ll be dead before I ever marry you.”

“Well we agree on something at least.”

His hand was running up and down the inside of your thigh, he leaned up to meet your eyeline again. Catching you in a quick kiss before his hand grazed against the outside of your underwear. You held in the gasp that wanted to release from you.

“Be good and let me eat you out.” He brings his face in close by your ears and leaves a small kiss behind.  

“Ask nicely and I just might.”

He took the opportunity to stand up straight, towering over you a little. Like he was getting the same sight of you below him that you had just seen of him. He tilted your chin up with his thumb and index finger, to look into his eyes. 

“Please.” He said so quietly and kindly.  A tone he had never taken with you.

“Fine.” You try to say in a displeasing tone, but you couldn’t help but want it. 

He lowers himself back to his knees and opens your legs up again and pulls your underwear down your legs rather quickly. You laid back on your back again.

“For someone who hates me so much, you sure are wet for me.” He laughed a little and it sent a ripple of anger. You covered your face with both of your arms.

“Fuck off.” 

“Fuck you.” He replies and his hands slowly slide up your thighs. Almost agonizingly slow. 

He reached your pussy which was eager to feel his touch and he swirled his fingers around your clit a few times. You really were wet, his fingers took no time to play with you. Applying some pressure, he uses his other hand to play around with one finger at your entrance. You have been trying not to elicit any sounds because you didn’t want to see that stupid smirk on his face. Your breath was heavy in your chest though. He then instead inserted two of his fingers into your dripping pussy. You let out a low hum, you wanted a little more. 

“There you are. Was worried you had lost your voice.” 

He switched from using both hands to just one, with his two fingers moving in and out of you. His thumb still circling your clit. He had laid himself down on the bed next to you now, he was playing with a piece of your hair, and looking at you with an amusing smile. 

Before you were able to say anything, he pushed his fingers into you deeper and he was touching a spot that could easily make you come. It forced a moan out of your mouth. Which seemed to surprise the both of you. 

“You really needed it bad huh?” He laughed a little at your little noises and faces you were making. 

He was right. 

You turn your head to the side so you don’t have to face him but he stays with you. He had to take his fingers out of you, and adjust his arm but he slipped his fingers right back inside you but this time adding another one. You moan softly into the sheets. He uses his other hand to move some hair away from your face and he leaves little bites into your shoulder. 

“Three fingers already? You must be desperate for it,” he pumps his fingers in and out of you faster. Making that little curling motion that is driving you crazy. Your breathing was quick. “Can I make you cum with just my fingers?” 

“God shut up already.” You groan, but mostly at the feeling. He had you in the palm of his hand so easily.

“I’m good.” He hums, looking down at his fingers which were covered in your arousal. It made his cock twitch, he wanted to replace his fingers and fuck you but there was something satisfying seeing you all quiet and annoyed just with his fingers. “Annoying you seems to turn me on.”

“Stop.” You gasp but Jungkook picked up the pace of his fingers, and a soft moan left you. You mentally cursing yourself out. “You always this chatty during sex? Feel bad for any girls prior to me.”

Jungkook shook his head, “Nah, I usually have my tongue inside them by now.”

“You sure are confident in your skills.” Acting as if what he said didn’t send a wave of arousal through you. 

Jungkook did a few harder thrusts of his fingers and you moan and your eyes fall shut. 

“Just say please, and that can be you too.” He whispers and he kisses your skin. 

“I’m never begging you for anything.” 

“Nights still young.”

He had gotten a good rhythm with his fingers now. Touching you in just the right way. You were trying to fight the high off as best you could. Jungkook could tell you were trying to fight it but he wanted to get you off. Would be funny in a way that he could make you cum so fast even though you despise him. He begins to suck on your neck, just in a nice little spot and makes goosebumps rise all over your body. 

“You really seem to want to get me off? Didn’t think you’d be so considerate considering how selfish you are during the daytime.” There was that competitive streak again, that same part of your that is protesting this whole thing. 

“I may not like you, doesn’t mean I don’t want you to cum.”

Jungkook then lowers himself down to press his tongue flat against your clit. Your eyes flutter closed at the feeling. He keeps working his fingers in and out of you. He only sucks on your clit one more time because he wanted just his fingers to do the work here. He brings his other hand down to rub your clit as his other hand fucks you. You were letting small moans fall from you. It turning him on more than he wanted to admit.

It doesn’t take much longer but a few more pumps of his fingers he gets your cumming onto them. You grinding on his fingers. You come down quickly and your face was completely red. Jungkook just smiling down to you. Jungkook then removes his fingers from you with a small protest from you. Licking all of your arousal off them. 

“That’s unfortunate, you taste really good.” He did sound a little disappointed at the discovery. 

“You’re such a dick.”

“Relax, I’m not even done.” Jungkook let out and exasperated sigh, he wanted you to just trust the process but he should have guessed you give him a hard time.

“Addicted yet?”

“Not even slightly.”

You wanted to take back control since he had his moment of slight dominance over you. You pull Jungkook back onto the bed turn yourself around and swing your legs over his waist and pin him down on the bed. Jungkook knew it was painfully obvious how hard he was in his trousers and you were sitting right on top of it. You couldn’t help the pressure made your mouth drop open a little. You wanted to feel his dick stretch you out. Not just yet though. 

You run your hands over his chest slowly, and you begin to grind yourself into his crotch. You were a skittle swollen and sensitive but it seems to drive him a little crazy. His eyes had fluttered closed, enjoying the feeling of the pressure on his cock. You lean down close to his ear.

“Looks like I’m not the only one that seems to need it badly.” You grind into his dick a little more forcefully. Jungkook moans a little bit and his hands have found the way to your ass, trying to guide you but you don’t let him take control of the pace. You keep your hip movements slow and taunting.

“Shit.” He whispers, followed by a soft moan. 

“Think I could make you cum just by grinding on you? No chance to even slip yourself inside of me?” You're pushing him a little. You would not let this night go without getting fucked but making him cum just like this also sounded hot. Cum in his pants and then leave him here.

“Not a chance.” He says almost like he could hear your thoughts. “I’m fucking you tonight.”

He sits up, keeping you pressed into him. His hand found its way into your hair and pulled your head back. Keeping his other hand on your ass. Again trying to take the control back from you but you keep your hips still. 

Jungkook runs his mouth over the side of your neck again, letting his hot breath fan over you. Then finding that same spot earlier that made you twitch. Attaching his mouth there and keeping his one hand tangled in your hair. You hum softly, and Jungkook tries to use his hand to encourage your hips to move. You refuse. 

“Say please and I just might move.” You laugh under your breath. Jungkook squeezes your hip, he was getting really desperate though, he needed the friction for some relief. 

“So annoying.” He mumbles against your skin and bites you lightly, “Please.”

Thank god, because you needed the friction too. You grind your hips down into him and he moans but this wasn’t enough. You were making a mess on the top of his pants for sure but you didn’t care, it would be his problem tomorrow. 

Jungkook leaned away from you. Resting on one of him arms and just watched you move for a moment, it felt like he actually was in some sort of twisted dream. Because you of all people, were here dry humping him in his hotel room, and you both were really liking it. Your face was all twisted up and breathing heavily as you chased your high. Jungkook needed this to end though. 

“Okay.” You stop for a moment and sigh, your legs were getting a little tired from the position. “I need… huh.” You mumble under your breath. Jungkook gave you a confused look.

“What was that?.” Jungkook smirks and he grinds his hips up into you. You moan a little but hit his chest to protest the movement.

“Please fuck me.” Your plea comes out more pathetic than you wanted. You wanted him to pound into you though. 

“I thought you weren’t going to beg me for anything?” 

“I’m not saying it again.” 

Jungkook takes no pause and he lifts you off of him, and he kisses you so desperately before placing you back on the bed. He wastes zero time in getting off his pants and boxers. His dick springs free and you were upset but also glad to see it was a good size. Of course he’d have a nice dick, how fucking annoying. 

You couldn’t help but think about sucking him off though. 

Watching him unfold for you. It’d be nice. Unfortunately it was never going to happen. You just needed a good fuck and then you can go back to absolutely hating each other. He’s still vile… Just for this moment though, he is incredibly desirable. 

“You got a bit of drool coming out of your mouth.” He teases you. You look away and scoff. Jungkook grabs something from his bag which proves to be a condom, quickly unpackaging it and rolling it onto his dick.

“You just had condoms at the ready?” You ask. 

“I didn’t, Taehyung gave me some. ‘Just in case’, his words not mine.” Jungkook leans two hands on each side of the bed next to you. “I wasn’t planning on sleeping with anyone.” 

“Find that hard to believe.”

He gave you a confused expression. 

“How so?”

“Isn’t this your kind of guys stomping ground? Aren’t weddings like prime hookup locations. Taehyung always seems to have some wedding hookup story.” You sit up, coming closer to Jungkook’s face. 

“Tell me what ‘my type of guy’ is then?” He was getting annoyed, and it honestly made you happy. 

“Assholes. Haven’t said it to you in the last twenty minutes so you probably forgot what you were.” You tilt your head in innocence. You were poking the bear, but you may be starting to regret it because you might be cutting your fuck short.

“Well, you just let this asshole finger you.” He tilts his head in the same direction as you, then using one of his hands to move some hair off your shoulder. 

“A minor lapse in judgment, I’m sure.” You place a hand on the back of his neck, you needed him close again. Due to your own inability to not fight with Jungkook, you were cooling off. 

Jungkook leans close and kisses you again, head still spinning. You called him and asshole and he was willingly kissing you now. So strange but it was working for the both of you. One of his hands goes down to his cock and strokes himself slowly but then moves on top of you more. He then presses his tip down onto your clit and you break your kiss to gasp.  

“Then let me fuck you and we can be done with it.”

He was staring at you so intensely, he needed you. You needed to give up this fight, you needed him too. You nod and he pulls himself back for a second. You don’t think you can face him during this, you decide to flip yourself over instead. You almost preferred it in this position anyways.

“Awe what?” You heard him laugh under his breath and you scoff. “Think you might fall in love with me if you look at me the whole time?”

“Yeah right. I’m here for one thing only and I can only hope you can actually deliver.” You sigh, Jungkook had reached over to the top of the bed for a pillow. He lifted your hips which surprised you and shifted the pillow underneath your hips. 

Maybe he did know what he was doing. 

He begins to climb on top of you, he presses a bunch of kissing up your back and up to your neck, sucking on a spot there. Your body is completely flooded with heat. He breaks away from you, one of his hands on his dick, stroking it a couple of times. 

“Still time to back out now Jeon.” You say, tilting your head to the side to look back to him. 

“Nah, I need to feel you cum around me.” He was completely serious. 

He pressed the tip of his dick to your entrance, playing with you as he swirls it around and he just watches your reaction. He could see it’s driving you nuts. How badly you want him to sink his dick deep inside of you. You bite your lip to fight back the moans he could be eliciting from you. 

“Moan for me baby. You know you want too.”

“And let you have the satisfaction? No.”

“What a brat.” his tone was lower. 

You both were thinking the same thing. You were both a little hesitant because this was it. It would be real, you would have fucked each other after this. 

Jungkook presses the tip of his dick into you and it elicits a small noise from you. He pushes his dick in more, slowly and you could feel every tiny movement. He slowly stretches you out so you can take the full length. His breath was rather ragged, and his eyes were shut. He didn’t completely bottom out yet but he pulls himself out and then pushes himself in again. You groan at the movement. You hated how much he was driving you crazy and how desperately you were wanting him to pound into you. 

“Jungkook please.” You needed it.

“Oh yeah?” he opens his eyes. “What do you need?”

“Enough teasing. Just fuck me.” You grip onto the sheets below you, you needed it so bad and your breath was all ragged and desperate. 

Jungkook observes you for a moment, you had laid your head to the side so he could examine your expression. You were desperate. He brought his hands up on top of yours gripping onto them. He then completely bottoms out inside you, which forces a moan out of you. It’s soft but it’s like music to Jungkook’s ears. 

“I win.” he says with a chuckle. 

He doesn’t give you much time to react before he pulls himself all they way out and shoves his dick all the way back in again. Wanting to feel every inch of your pussy around him. Each thrust forces a small moan out of you. You want to move your arms but Jungkook kept you in place. He is rocking you back and forth with each thrust and pounding all the way inside you. 

The sound of his thrust and his pelvis slapping against your skin is so lewd. Its driving you crazy. Both of your moans fill the room. He bites down onto your shoulder and you swear it felt electric. 

“Jesus your fucking wet.” He is so out of breath. He can’t get enough. 

You can’t either. 

“Oh my god.” You moan, you feel the swell of your climax rising again. Jungkook has been stroking a part of your pussy with his dick and it’s driving you insane. You have never cum from penetration sex this quickly before.  

He slowed for a second. Moving his hand between your pussy and the pillow. Rubbing your clit. He was going to make you cum again, he was messing with you earlier but he didnt want you to feel good. You press your forehead deep into the mattress. Just letting whatever sound was in you out. You were almost running away from his touch and you push backwards just forced your ass into his pelvis. Pushing his dick deeper. 

 Double edged sword here, nowhere for you to escape. He did a few slower thrusts while he did this, keeping a certain rhythm. Before you are able to even think, your climax rolls over you again and you’re squeezing Jungkook's dick and he takes this moment to go a little faster with his thrusts while you ride it out on him.  

“Fuck.” you let a long dragged out moan, as Jungkook rides you through your high. 

“That’s right baby use me.” His hot breath fans over your skin. “I-I’m also close.”

You continue to hang onto his hand as he rocks into you. Filling you up completely. Never stopping for a second as you come off your climax. The stimulation felt crazy, you almost didn’t want to stop. Consider asking him to eat you out and make you come all over again. Then Jungkook gets a little sloppier in his thrusts as he’s close to his climax. 

“Coming, coming.” His breath catches in his throat as you feel him fill up the condom. 

He thrust a few more times but slows to a stop. Both of your breathing in sync. He rests his head on your back. You both just stay there for a minute. His cock still buried in you. You both relish what just happened. It felt really good.. Really really good… but oh my god. 

You just fucked Jungkook.

How, bizarre.

Jungkook kissed your shoulder softly before pulling away and getting out of bed. He stood too quickly, feeling a little dizzy, but more from the weight of what had just happened. You stifled a small whine at the loss of contact, quickly covering your mouth. He chuckled through his heavy breaths, but you couldn’t look at him—your face was already burning with embarrassment. 

What the hell did I just do?

You didn’t want to think about it, but you couldn’t help yourself. The guy you hated more than anyone was just in bed with you. His hands, his mouth, his entire presence—everything felt so good, too good. You hated him, didn’t you? This shouldn’t have happened. Yet, the feeling of him still lingered on your skin, and worse, a part of you already missed it.

Reality hit harder the moment you sat up. How long had the two of you been gone? You turned over, and Jungkook was already reaching out a hand to help you up. We can’t stay here. We need to get back. He held your dress in his other hand.  

“Thank you. We need to get back.” You say at almost a whisper as you begin to redress  yourself. 

You rushed into the bathroom, flicking on the light. Seeing yourself in the mirror made everything feel even more real. Your hair was a mess, and you looked… well, you looked like you’d just been thoroughly fucked. You wiped at your neck where he’d left a tiny mark, hidden easily enough, but tomorrow? You were going to have to get creative. 

Jungkook, meanwhile, was dressing in the other room, moving on autopilot. He stared at his ruined slacks, feeling a strange satisfaction. Damn, what did we just do? He hadn’t expected any of this, not with you. You were the last person he ever thought he'd sleep with, but there you were, both standing at the edge of something that shouldn’t have happened.

I don’t regret it, though. Should I? He shook his head. It can’t happen again.

When you came back out, dressed, Jungkook saw the tension written all over your face, mirroring his own. It was thick between you, the weight of what just happened hanging in the air. He cleared his throat, glancing at his phone.

He cleared his throat. “Yeah we should hurry.” He had checked the time on his phone, it was well past time that the two of you needed to be back.

The air felt tense between the two of you. What you both just did felt amazing but you also fucking despise this guy. You pretty sure that hate didn’t go away. Knowing what he can do in bed though certainly makes that feeling all the more confusing. 

I guess you just go back to hating the guy. He would go back to hating you.

“I’m going to go down first.” You said and you don’t look at him. 

He hums in agreement. Better to not show up together, not that you believe anyone would be at all suspicious of what you two had done.

“This is never happening again.” You say back, a seriousness behind your voice. 

It shouldn’t happen again. You're reeling a little but from the touch of Jungkook’s skin, how it made you feel so warm. So inviting, even though he makes you burn with a fiery rage. 

Your head was completely cloudy, and your mouth with the left over taste of a cigarette. 

Downstairs, you entered the rehearsal as if nothing had happened. The walk had been a blur, your mind still buzzing from the touch of his skin, the way he made you feel even though you despised him. Your heart was still pounding, but you pushed it all aside when Melanie spotted you.

“Thank God, everything’s a mess. Where have you been?” she asked, concern mixed with curiosity.

You pulled yourself together, forcing a smile. “Sorry, Jungkook and I were… talking. I think we’re good now.”

“Talking?” She raised an eyebrow, clearly suspicious. “You guys actually talked?”

“Yeah, sort of,” you replied, keeping it casual. “No more fighting this weekend.”

After some time Jungkook also rejoined the party. You spent the entire party not speaking and not even looking at each other. Nothing else happened, like it never happened. A secret the two of you could bury way deep down. Except it kept playing over in your mind into the next morning. You were completely distracted getting dressed and doing hair and makeup.

Ash definitely took notice.

"Hey, where did you disappear to last night?" Ash tapped your shoulder, snapping you out of your thoughts.

You blinked a few times, trying to refocus. Where’s my head right now? Well, you knew exactly where. You were still reeling from last night, mentally replaying every fight with Jungkook, trying to figure out how the two of you ended up… here.

“Oh.” You forced a casual tone, definitely not because you had slept with the person you hated most. “Jungkook and I got into a fight.”

“Shocker.” Ash rolled her eyes, not even mildly surprised.

“It was bad this time. Namjoon stepped in, got mad, so we took it outside...” You trailed off, hoping that would be enough to dodge further questions.

She raised a hand, halting you. “If you’re about to tell me you punched him and I missed it, I’m going to be pissed.”

You laughed. “I didn’t punch him. Wanted to, though.”

“So, what happened?” She raised an eyebrow, her curiosity not dropping.

Nothing I’m admitting out loud.

“We came to a truce... of sorts.” You gulped.

“I don’t get why he’s always up your ass.” Ash finally seemed to let it go. “What was he picking a fight about this time?”

“He just wanted to piss me off, I guess.”

At that moment, Melanie stepped out of the dressing room, her hair, makeup, and dress all done. She looked beautiful. Her mom and sister fussed over minor details, but she was radiant, if a little nervous. Hopefully, she’d relax more once we started pictures.

Apparently, she’d had a minor meltdown about dinner last night because the caterers were short on some items, which shifted the schedule. She seemed to have forgotten about it this morning, though. You’d gone straight to the reception area to help smooth things over.

For all the times Melanie had helped you, it was a small favor. Hopefully, today would go smoothly.

“You look so beautiful,” you say, feeling tears prick at the corners of your eyes.

“No crying!” Melanie waves you off frantically. “The makeup cannot get messed up!”

She fans her face like crazy, trying to hold it together. You glance over at Ash, who’s already wiping away a tear.

“Ash!” You bump her gently.

“I can’t help it,” she mutters, dabbing under her eyes with her fingers.

“Melanie, we need to get down to the fountain for the reveal and photos,” the wedding planner calls out as she steps into the room. You glance at your phone and realize time’s running out—you need to get out of the hotel room now.

“I know, I know.” Melanie smooths out her dress, her mom hovering nearby trying to fuss with her hair, but Melanie waves her away.

Grabbing your bouquets, you start ushering everyone out the door. It’s a bit chaotic navigating through the hotel, with guests stopping every few steps to offer their congratulations. It’s sweet, but you’ve got a time limit, and you and Ash do your best to shield Melanie from well-wishers, playing defense as you maneuver outside.

Eventually, you make it to the courtyard. The photographer, who had been by earlier to get pictures of the hair and makeup process was here again, had gone ahead to get some shots of Namjoon before the big reveal.

“He’s going to bawl like a baby,” you say with a smile, and Melanie laughs in agreement.

“He is so going to cry.”

“You are too, though. I expect full waterworks.” You nudge her playfully.

“I’ve got tissues at the ready,” Ash announces, pulling out a small packet of tissues stashed between her boobs.

“No one wants your boob tissues!” you protest, cringing a little.

“Says you!” Ash pouts, stuffing the tissues back into her bra defiantly.

You all come to a halt as the photographer’s voice carries around the corner. Deciding to check if everything’s set, you sneak ahead and peek around the wall leading to the fountain. Namjoon stands facing the water, the photographer taking a few last shots of him.

You run back to Melanie and whisper, “We’re ready.”

She takes a deep breath before stepping forward. You, Ash, and the others stay back to watch the exchange.

The photographer takes a few more photos of Melanie as she approaches Namjoon from behind. Finally, the photographer waves her forward to tap him on the shoulder. He turns slowly, his eyes still closed.

You hear Melanie giggle softly as she pats him again to get him to open his eyes. The second he does, Namjoon doesn’t hesitate—he pulls her into his arms and lifts her off the ground, spinning her around like she’s the most precious thing in the world.

He sets her down gently, taking a moment just to look at her. You can’t hear what he says, but the words clearly make Melanie smile before they kiss. It’s such a tender moment that you feel your own eyes start to well up.

The photographer waves you all over, and you, Ash, Serena, and her mom step out from behind the wall, walking toward the fountain. As you get closer, it’s clear—Namjoon and Melanie are both absolute blubbering messes, completely lost in the moment. More touching than you’d imagined.

“Oh no,” you laugh and smile fondly at the both of them, “Not the both of you.”

Namjoon is wiping his eyes, and Melanie is also wiping his face while she wipes her own. 

“I can’t stop.” He says so innocently. 

“Shit I can’t stop either.” Melanie is trying to fan herself. 

Ash comes to the rescue, with now an unpacked tissue. You laugh to yourself a little. 

“Never thought I would be so happy to see a boob tissue.” Melanie laughs and accepts the tissue. 

“A what?” Namjoon asks and looks between you. 

“Don’t worry about it.” You pat him on the shoulder. 

They both try to pull themselves together, with joyful sniffles. Namjoon didn’t let go of her for a second. His eyes are filled with nothing but her. It makes your heart scream.

“Okay, now we can get pictures with everyone.” The photographer yells a little louder. The fountain as a little loud for everyone to hear. You didn’t seem to notice she was actually trying to call over the groomsmen who were waiting a ways away. 

“Hey guys!” Namjoon calls and does that cool like two finger in your mouth whistle thing. 

You and Ash both try to mimic Namjoon and fail miserably. Just getting spit on your hands. 

The groomsmen usher their way over and are ready and waiting for instructions. 

“Okay, we will start getting a picture of everyone lined up! Bride and groom in the middle and then the maid of honor and the best man.” 

Everyone lined up in order and Ash placed herself behind you. You get a couple of shots like this, some serious and some goofy. You couldn’t wait to see them later. 

“Okay let’s get a picture of just the groomsmen and the bridesmaids really quick.” 

She waves for Melanie and Namjoon to step away from the group really quick. You then come face to face with the scum of the earth himself. You had been avoiding acknowledging him up until this point. Jungkook just gives you the widest shit eating grin he can muster. You can’t help but have a look of disdain. His look is the one that says ‘we fucked last night’.

Fucking embarrassing. 

“Morning.” He says a little too pridefully.

“Stop looking at me like that.” You groan before standing immediately next to him, making sure you aren’t touching. 

“Play nice you two.” You hear Namjoon call off from the side, some of the other snicker knowing exactly who he’s addressing.

“I think we can take a picture, Namjoon.” You smile almost embarrassed, everyone else very audibly disagrees.

“Sure, we can.” Jungkook says, “At least I can.” 

You just shake off the comment. 

Once the group shot is finished, you waste no time putting distance between yourself and Jungkook, stepping away as quickly as possible. The other bridesmaids follow your lead, and the groomsmen do the same, splitting into their own groups. Namjoon and Melanie are ushered back for more couple shots, their laughter filling the air as the photographer clicks away.

“Jungkook can’t leave you alone for one day, huh?” Ash breaks the silence in your head.

“Seriously,” you sigh.

“He really does like provoking something out of you, doesn’t he?” she adds with a knowing grin.

“This is exactly what I’ve been saying!” You throw your arms up dramatically, earning a laugh from her.

You glance back at Namjoon and Melanie. They look absolutely radiant, like they’re in their own little world. Namjoon hasn’t taken his eyes off her the entire time.

“They look so happy, don’t they?” Ash comments, her gaze softening as she watches the couple.

You nod, a slight smile tugging at your lips. “Yeah, they really do.”

“Got your sights set on anyone for the evening?” Ash wiggles her eyebrows mischievously.

“That was random.” You give her a look. “And no, I’ll probably be going to bed early tonight. This wedding has been months of stress on the brain. I’ll be happy to turn in, thanks.”

“That’s exactly why you should stay up! You’ve helped Melanie plan this whole thing from the very beginning. You deserve to enjoy it too!” Ash grins widely, nudging you playfully.

You roll your eyes. “Seeing Melanie happy is all the reward I need from today. No random hook-up is going to top that.” and you know… you already had one.

“Ugh, you’re no fun.” She leans against you, feigning a whine.

“I don’t know,” you muse. “I’m just not interested unless it’s with someone who looks at me like how Namjoon looks at Melanie.” You gesture toward the couple, where Namjoon is still gazing at his bride-to-be like she’s the only person in the world.

Ash cocks her head. “How would you describe it?”

You pause, watching as Melanie stumbles near the fountain, nearly pulling Namjoon with her. For a second, your heart skips a beat, but they both catch themselves, bursting into laughter. The moment is so full of joy, so genuine, you can’t help but sigh.

“He looks at her like he can’t breathe without her. Like she’s the air that keeps him going. And it’s the same the other way around. They push each other to be better, to grow. And somehow, through that, they keep falling deeper in love.” Your voice grows soft, almost wistful. You want that too, you realize. But it feels out of reach—like something only other people get to have.

Ash is quiet for a moment before she nods. “I get it. You want someone to breathe for, too. Someone who makes you want to be better.”

She pinches your cheek playfully, making an exaggerated cooing sound, and you swat her hand away, laughing.

“Not just that,” you add thoughtfully. “I want someone who makes me feel like fire too.”

Ash raises an eyebrow, teasing. “You want someone to set you on fire? Kinky.”

You shove her with a grin. “You know what I mean. I want tenderness, but I also want passion. The kind that burns. Most people don’t really want the specific kind of passion I’m looking for.”

Ash considers this for a moment, and you both fall into a comfortable silence. It’s not something you talk about often—your idea of love. Mostly because it seems too ideal, too unattainable. You’ve placed it high on a shelf, a fantasy you’ve all but convinced yourself isn’t real.

“I think you’ll find that,” Ash hums after a while.

You shrug. “Yeah? Well, let me know when you find them.”

“Find who?”

Of course, the second you think the day might calm down, Jungkook appears behind you, his voice as obnoxious as ever.

“Speaking of fire extinguishers,” you mutter under your breath before turning to face him. “What do you want?” you ask, your tone dry.

“Just thought I’d let you know—you look nice,” he says, flashing you that infuriating smile again.

“Well, that’s—” you start, but before you can finish, he adds.

“Oh, not you. I was talking to Ash.”

You catch the smirk on his face and feel your cheeks flush. Of course. Why were you even surprised? He’s just determined to remind you of how much of a mistake last night was.

“You really came over here just for that?” you ask, your patience wearing thin.

“Yup,” he says, popping the ‘p’ like it’s the most satisfying thing in the world.

“Fuck you.”

“Funny you say that, Ash—” Jungkook starts to reply, but you shove him away before he can finish.

You glare at him, but he doesn’t press the issue. Instead, he steps back with a smirk, clearly content with having annoyed you. Linking arms with Ash, you walk away, putting as much distance between the two of you as possible.

“Just ignore him. Stay ten feet away all day.”

“We have to walk down the aisle together.”

Ash sighs. “Okay, other than that, stay ten feet away from him.”

The pictures had finally wrapped up, after what felt like a few thousand poses in every scenic corner of the hotel. The fairy tale vibe was exactly what Melanie had dreamed of, but now it was getting close to go time.

Except, of course, you couldn’t find the Best Man.

You paced around the ceremony hall, looking for Jungkook. He had exactly one job, and he managed to vanish right before it. Frustration boiled in your chest. Naturally, he’d run off now.

“Where the hell is he?” you muttered, stepping outside into the warm afternoon air. The sun greeted you, but so did the smell of cigarettes. A flash of last night flickered across your mind. Nope. Not going there.

You rounded the corner, and there he was. Of course. Standing there like nothing was wrong, cigarette in hand. Taehyung was next to him, equally guilty.

“What the hell are you two doing?” Your voice is coming out a little more aggressive than you intended.

“Oh my god,” Taehyung grabbed his chest in shock and held the cigarette away from him, “how did this get in my hand!” He threw the cigarette down like it had betrayed him and gave you his most innocent look.

Jungkook just stood there, holding the cigarette in his mouth and taking in a long breath. 

“Just get your ass inside.” You look pointedly at Taehyung and he bows his head a little.

“Sorry, I’m going.” He drops his cigarette on the ground and stomps it out. 

He then runs past you to head on inside and you follow him with your head, before you turn to look back at Jungkook. Who has not put out his cigarette. 

“Well?” you say folding your arms over your chest. 

He looks at you confused like he is supposed to do something.

“Are we supposed to be somewhere right now?” He says sarcastically, almost playful. Now coming your direction. 

“Don’t start with me, you damn well know we need to be lining up to walk down that aisle in like five minutes and you’re out here smoking!” you rub the side of your head, you really didn’t want to do this right now. 

“I’m kidding I’m sorry I really thought we had more time,” he drops his cigarette and stomps it out, unfinished, “Lets get this show on the road.”

For once, he didn’t argue. Progress.

“Thank you,” you muttered, leading the way back inside.

“No problem,” he said, tone as dry as sandpaper.  

You turned around and you went inside first. He was close behind you heading back into the ceremony hall. You rushed a little because you had to go be in line right now or the wedding coordinator would have your head. Ash was in the line in front of you and had your flowers ready for you to grab when you got in line. 

You and Jungkook were in the back of the line so that when you lined up you would be first behind the bride and groom at the alter. 

You mouth a ‘thank you’ to Ash as you take them and hold it in your right hand. You look next to you and Jungkook is already holding his arm for you to take. You groan a little bit and wrap your arm around his. 

“You stink.” You huff.

“Didn’t seem to be a problem yesterday-…”

“Shut the fuck up.”

You elbowed him hard, earning a gasp, but he recovered quickly. Just as you settled in, Melanie popped up behind you, looking like she might explode from excitement or nerves.

“Are you two going to be okay back here?” 

“Yes you just focus on your wedding.” You give her a soft smile.

“You look lovely Melanie.” Jungkook looks back at her and smiles.

“Awe thank you Jungkook. Stop giving my maid of honor a hard time.” She pats him on the shoulder. 

“Fine, only for you though.” He smiles very genuinely. 

The music in the Ceremony Hall began and everyone in front of you started walking down the aisle. You smile back to Melanie one more time before you and Jungkook begin to walk. 

The ceremony went off without a hitch. Namjoon and Melanie’s vows were beautiful, heartfelt, and perfect.

But the day was far from over.

As soon as the ceremony ended, you slipped out to the reception hall, tackling Melanie’s last-minute worries so she could enjoy some alone time with Namjoon. It was a long day—they deserved a moment to themselves.

Unfortunately, things weren’t running as smoothly here. The DJ was late, so you had to improvise. The hotel lent a larger speaker, and the planner decided to shuffle the schedule—dinner and speeches first, dancing later.

Most of the guests had already arrived, found their seats, and were milling around. The open bar helped keep them entertained. Ash was busy working the room, chatting with everyone and keeping things lively, while you stayed on the outskirts, handling logistics.

Stationed by the front door, you kept an eye on the time, knowing you’d need to get things rolling soon, even without a DJ.

“Hello.” Jungkook’s voice rang next to you.

“Yes?” You look at him blankly.

“Can I help with anything?” 

“No.” You sniff and continue doing what you were doing. 

You walk away from him and he keeps right on your toes. He expected that exact answer from you but he didn’t stop. He placed himself in front of you, making you come to a halt. 

“Oh come on. There is seriously nothing I can help you with? You look like you’re under a lot of stress.”

“No, because I don’t need your help Jungkook.”

He crossed his arms, irritation flashing across his face. “You know this is my friend’s wedding too. Thought I’d try to make things go smoother, but I guess you’ve got it handled.”

“Great, then go have a nice time,” you said, waving him off.

“You seriously can’t relinquish control if it’s me, huh? What—”

You angrily groan and push him a little further away from other guests and cover your ears with your hands in frustration. 

“God I can’t do this right now Jungkook. I don’t have the brain power to fight with you right now.” You let out a long sigh of anger. “Just go away.”

He was annoyed and so were you. You don’t get why it was such a big deal and why you couldn’t just let him help. You just didn’t want him to ruin anything. You didn’t know where that feeling came from, that he would ruin anything. Maybe just to spite you, because it felt like something he would do. 

“See this just makes me believe that last night was a waste of time. Nothing’s changed.” You rub your face a little bit. 

“Maybe. Right now though we don’t have time to deal with that.” His voice was pretty steady, he was feeling the same, “I can help though. Just tell me what I can do..” 

He was looking right at you. You hadn’t looked straight at him. You let yourself for a moment though and he looked genuine.

“The DJ isn’t here.” You let go. 

“Okay… we do have some music playing though.”

“Okay but no one is announcing Namjoon and Melanie.”

He cocked his head to the side like he was a little confused. 

“Announcing them?”

“Like ‘Ladies and gentlemen, for the first time Mr. and Mrs. Kim’ that whole thing.” You wave your hands around trying to describe it. 

He just watches your hands fly around everywhere. 

“Okay. I’ll do it then.” He says it so matter of factly, so easily. “We have a microphone set up. I can easily introduce them. Maybe even throw in a joke or two.”  

This was a small weight off your shoulder. 

“I was honestly dreading having to do it. I’m pretty worried about my speech. I don’t like talking in front of others.” 

You had been dreading the thought. You made some note cards, they weren’t very good and the story was pretty boring. It was still something. 

“Well this is one less thing you need to worry about.” He gave you what looked like a little bit of a smile, “See? I can be helpful.”

You roll your eyes.

“I’m sure your speech is great.” You mumble a little. 

He had a certain confidence in himself that you envied a little bit. 

Except you didn’t because you would never envy Jungkook. Obviously.

Still.

“Can I read your speech?” Jungkook held out his hand like you were just going to hand over the cards.

“Uh no.” 

“I’m sure it’s good.”

For some reason—maybe because you were already too stressed—you actually did. You pulled the cards from your pocket and dropped them into his hand. He flipped through them with the speed of someone browsing a restaurant menu.

“It’s not that bad,” he said, still holding onto your cards.

“Really?” You picked at the skin on your thumb, surprised. It was weirdly nice hearing that.

“Oh yeah,” he smirked, wiping his nose before leaning closer. “Now let’s see if you can remember it.”

He then slipped your cards into the inside of his jacket. Your eyes widened at the action and immediately lunged for him and he backed up. 

“You’re not fucking serious right now Jungkook.” You were trying to set him on fire with your eyes. He looked rather amused, “Give me back my cards before I kill you.”

He kept reaching out of your arm range. He knew if you got a hold of him, he was going to the ground for sure. 

“Can’t do that.” He grabs hold of one of your wrists and stops you. “Speak from within.”

“I’m going to kill you. That is the worst advice!” You actually couldn’t believe what was happening. 

Was he fucking five years old?

“I didn’t write down my speech.” He sounded so cheeky.

“Good for you.” You groaned, throwing your hands up. There was no way you were getting those cards back now.

He really was not going to give it back. 

Jungkook, still looking way too pleased with himself, tapped the side of his jacket. “I’m serious, though. You’ll have better things to say than what’s on these cards.”

“Okay, but not everyone can just whip it out like you!”

“Well—”

“Don’t.” You cut him off, pointing a finger at his face as the joke formed in his mind. He was practically buzzing with the urge to say it, but you could see him weighing whether it was worth the inevitable wrath.

Just then, your phone buzzed—a message from Melanie letting you know they were waiting outside. Jungkook leaned over your shoulder and peeked at the message too.

“Looks like it’s showtime.” He grinned, leaning way too close to your ear before taking off in a jog across the room.

You watched, half-annoyed, half-amused, as he reached the speaker playing music and paused it. The room’s chatter became the only sound as he tapped the microphone a few times, then cleared his throat loudly.

“Mic works!” He beamed, casually removing it from the stand like he was born to hold it. All eyes turned toward him. “Alright, everyone, sorry for the delay! It is my absolute pleasure to present to you all, for the very first time... Mr. and Mrs. Kim!”

He started clapping before anyone else, but soon the whole room joined in, everyone turning toward the doors as Namjoon and Melanie made their entrance. They looked overjoyed—and completely exhausted—but the energy in the room was contagious. You clapped too, quietly slipping toward your table at the edge of the room.

As Namjoon and Melanie finally reached their seats, the room began to settle, everyone sitting down together just as you reached your chair.

Jungkook still has the microphone and is standing in the middle of the dance floor in front of everyone. 

“So, I’m Jungkook as many of you know. The best man. It is my duty to let you know there has been a slight change of plan for the night folks.” He was really good at speaking to the whole room, “We are going to get the kiss and cry out of the way first tonight so we can all party and celebrate with my wonderful friends here.”

He flashes a very genuine smile over to Namjoon and Melanie. Who were sitting so close they could have melted together. 

“First thing I will say is drink responsibly tonight everyone!” He points around the room, “Specifically you mister.”

He points over to Namjoon who raises his hands up in defense. Everyone laughs a little bit.

“Speaking of whom,” Jungkook clears his throat, “I have a little story. We all know Namjoon to be kind of like a dad,” the guests all nod and agree, “He is pretty responsible and takes care of others a lot. What some may not know though is Namjoon does not hold his alcohol very well.” 

Everyone in the room either laughed a little or let out some low chatter. 

“Namjoon is actually a terrible lightweight. So he usually is the responsible one when we are out.” He paced around the room a little, “This story has to do with the night he met Melanie. He had a terrible week at his job, several years ago now.”

****************************************************

Four years prior.

Jungkook shoved his way into the bar, immediately swallowed by the crowd. It was packed—busier than he'd ever seen it, and it made finding Namjoon seem impossible. He craned his neck, scanning over heads and across booths, trying to spot his friend among the chaos.

“Come on, man…” Jungkook muttered, pulling out his phone and dialing Namjoon’s number, which, of course, went straight to voicemail. “You’ve gotta be kidding me.”

He sighed and left yet another voicemail.

“Dude, the one time you decide to turn off your phone? I’ve been looking everywhere—”

Jungkook froze mid-sentence, spotting Namjoon on the dance floor, swaying wildly in a sea of strangers. He cut the call and couldn’t help but laugh. Namjoon was not the kind of guy who danced with strangers—ever. And yet, here he was, fruity cocktail in hand, looking like he was auditioning for some bizarre dance competition.

Jungkook fumbled for his phone again, snapping a quick picture to roast him with later.

“Oh, buddy… you are done for,” he muttered, still laughing as he pushed through the crowd toward him.

Just as he was about to reach him, someone yanked Namjoon off the dance floor. Jungkook's eyes narrowed as he watched a girl—someone he didn’t recognize—drag Namjoon over to a booth and force water down his throat like he was a wilting plant.

“Do you have any friends I can call?” she asked, practically shouting to be heard over the noise. Namjoon, half-asleep, slumped against her shoulder in a drunken stupor.

“I have a friend named Jeonnnnyyy,” Namjoon slurred, and Jungkook cringed, feeling secondhand embarrassment from a distance.

The girl sighed, shaking her head. “Okay, can I have your phone to call him?”

“No no no no no no no,” Namjoon mumbled, waving his hands as if the mere thought of Jungkook seeing him like this was some mortal sin. “He’d laugh at me.”

The girl’s patience was saintly. “I’m sure he’d be happy you’re alive, but sure, whatever you say. Let me just text him—”

“I can’t leave. If I leave, I have to go back to work and get fired.” Namjoon hiccupped, sagging further into the booth. “I f-fucked up at work.” He looked like a kicked puppy, and it was almost pitiful.

The girl patted his arm reassuringly. “Hey, we all screw up. You’re not the first person to mess up at work. Trust me, I screw up all the time.”

Namjoon blinked at her, looking like he’d just found the meaning of life in her words. “Yeah, but I can’t screw up. I have to take care of everything.” His voice cracked with the weight of it, and he slouched even lower.

“Well, let me take care of you tonight,” she said softly, pushing his sweat-dampened hair back from his face. “Just for tonight. Let me carry the weight for a bit.”

Jungkook could see the change in Namjoon’s face—a moment where everything clicked for him, and suddenly he was grounded. “You’re beautiful,” he mumbled, almost too quietly for Jungkook to hear.

The girl laughed, brushing it off. “You’re a mess, but thanks. Now, let me have your phone. I’ll call Johnny.”

That was Jungkook’s cue.

“Johnny here,” he announced, stepping up with a grin. “Actually, it's Jungkook.” He clapped a hand on Namjoon’s shoulder, squeezing gently.

“Jeonnnnyyy!” Namjoon cheered, looking up at him with bleary eyes, completely oblivious to the embarrassment of it all.

The girl stood and crossed her arms, her brow creased with concern. “You know him? How did you even find us?”

Jungkook chuckled, pulling Namjoon to his feet. “He called me before he decided to turn off his phone. Classic Namjoon move.” Namjoon practically collapsed into him, his weight dragging both of them down slightly. “I think it’s time to call it a night, buddy.”

With the girl helping to steady Namjoon’s other side, they guided him through the crowd and outside, plopping him down on a bench.

Jungkook pulled out his phone to order an Uber. “Thanks for looking after him in there,” he said, rubbing the back of his neck. “He usually doesn’t need babysitting, but today was… rough.”

She smiled warmly, wiping some of the sweat from Namjoon’s face. “No problem at all. I’m Melanie, by the way.” She extended a hand, and Jungkook shook it gratefully.

“Nice to meet you. I’ve got it from here, though. You should head back inside.”

Namjoon, however, had other plans. “Stayyyy!” he chanted, practically bouncing on the bench. “Don’t gooo!”

Melanie laughed but knelt in front of him, pressing a piece of paper into his hand. “Here. If you ever need to talk, give me a call, okay?”

Then like that she was gone and heading back inside. Namjoon held the piece of paper up above his head. Namjoon was smirking at him, just watching him completely star struck over this little piece of paper. 

****************************************************

“I got Namjoon home that night,” Jungkook said, laughing as he addressed the room at the reception. “And yes, I made sure to stick the little piece of paper on his fridge. Luckily, he didn’t chicken out and actually called her.”

Namjoon stood up with a sheepish grin. “Full disclosure, he did stay at my place the next morning and bugged me non-stop until I called her.”

Some laughter came from around the room, Jungkook was soared through this with ease. Seeing you basically stare daggers into the side of his head the entire time.

“Okay fine, he was a little baby. Though the rest is history now.” He sighed, “Dude you fucking scored.” 

He ran over to Namjoon really quick and gave him a fist bump. 

“Seriously though, I could not be more happy than to be the best man at this wedding. I’m so happy to see you this comfortable and at ease with someone. She is amazing. I couldn’t be more excited to see how you two grow together. If I find someone who makes me just as happy or comfortable as Melanie does for you. I will consider myself lucky. Congratulations to the both of you.” 

Everyone clapped, and a few sniffles echoed through the room as Jungkook wrapped up his speech. You couldn’t help but admire how effortlessly charming he was when addressing an audience. His story had been sweet, and it stirred fond memories in you. You recalled a slightly different version from Melanie’s perspective—she had fallen for Namjoon that night, captivated by his blend of adorableness and vulnerability.

Thank goodness he’d called her.

You remembered how quickly they’d started dating after that. They dove headfirst into a whirlwind of outings, and Melanie was completely smitten while Namjoon was lost in her. Their connection had been instant. Years had passed since that fateful first date, but today felt like the culmination of a long journey—a day that had been long overdue.

“Alright, I now need to turn over the mic to my esteemed colleague.” Jungkook spun on his heel, his gaze locking onto you, and your heart leaped into your throat. That familiar, infuriating grin spread across his face. “Ladies and gentlemen, the Maid of Honor!”

He strode over to you, extending a hand to help you up. You accepted it, grimacing at the unwanted attention, as he hoisted you to your feet. He placed the microphone in your hands, and you could feel all eyes on you as you made your way to the dance floor. Sweat prickled at your brow, and your nerves danced wildly in your stomach.

A quick glance at Ash, who gave you a thumbs-up, and Melanie’s encouraging cheers offered a semblance of comfort, though you still felt like you might explode.

“Hi everyone, I am Y/N.” you managed, your voice wavering slightly. “I had a speech prepared for this occasion, but apparently, someone who shall remain nameless—definitely not Jungkook—decided to take my notecards. So, I’m winging it!”

That got you a few laughs, out of the corner of your eye you could see Ash hit Jungkook. You gripped the microphone tightly, focusing your gaze on the floor to steady your nerves.

“Anyway, I have a story that’s somewhat fitting. It’s about Melanie and Namjoon’s first date—an experience that couldn’t have gone more wrong. Namjoon had planned an elegant evening at a nice restaurant, but wouldn’t you know it, the place caught fire when they arrived. So, they shifted gears and went to see a movie instead, which turned out to be utterly terrible.”

A few chuckles rippled through the crowd, and you took a deep breath, pushing on.

“Determined to salvage the night, they decided to grab some snacks and hang out in a park. But here’s where it gets really interesting—Namjoon accidentally caused Melanie to go into anaphylactic shock because he didn’t know she was allergic to peanuts! And just when they thought things couldn’t get worse, it started pouring—I'm talking a torrential downpour, not a light drizzle.”

“It’s true!” Melanie called out from the back, prompting you to scrunch your face playfully at him.

“Some would say that, yeah that’s a really terrible date. Some may take that as a sign from the universe that you two shouldn’t be together. I certainly did. Melanie had a different perspective...”

****************************************************

“I’m your emergency contact?” You found Melanie’s bed in a far corner of the your own hospitals ER. You were technically in the middle of a shift when another nurse in the ER called you.

You had no idea Melanie had placed you down as her emergency contact. You were glad to see nothing crazy had happened. You came and sat in the chair that was available next to her. 

“Yeah, I don’t have a lot of family in the city.” She looked embarrassed, she played with her hands in her lap. You took one of her hands. 

“This is not the place I like to see you in after a date, What happened?” You scrunch your eyebrows together in some serious concern. 

“Oh, I promise it was nothing insane. I had a reaction to some peanuts but I’m really okay!” She assured you and she sat up in her bed. 

“Well that’s good, was the date good otherwise?”

“It’s actually been a crazy day. First the restaurant caught fire, our movie was terrible, I went into shock and then it rained on us.” She was laughing and you were confused, sounded like a really terrible date. 

“Oh my god.” You were in shock just listening to her. “So I’m assuming you’re never seeing this guy again?”

Before Melanie could get in a word, Namjoon had come back with some water cups. He was walking slowly as not to spill. You hadn’t had a chance to see what this guy looked like. He was very handsome, no wonder Melanie suck around during this natural disaster. 

“Water for you.” Melanie takes her water with a smile, “And I’m sorry how about you take this one.”

Namjoon tries to pass you the other water but you wave him off to keep the water. He takes a different chair next to the bed. 

“I’m Y/N, nice to meet you.” You give him a small wave and he nods. “You must be Namjoon.”

“That’s me.” He smiles, he looked embarrassed.

“You don’t have to stay I’m really okay.” Melanie assures him.

“Oh no it’s okay. I may go find where they put your jacket though, some nurse took it and hasn’t brought it back.” Namjoon set down his cup and got up again to see if he could find the nurse. 

“He’s here?” You look back to Melanie.

“Yeah he was so worried he’s stayed the whole time.”

“That’s sweet. Do I need to scare him off?” You give her a serious look.

“No no don’t. I actually want to keep spending time with him.” She sits closer to you, “All of those things did go wrong. Except all the conversations we’ve had have been like… It’s like I’ve never clicked so well with someone so fast. He’s been very kind and is listening. He has very thoughtful and intelligent things to say to every topic I bring up. He’s very goofy and awfully clumsy, but I never felt more safe. So I promise it’s okay.”

“Still, you don’t know him.” You were hesitant. 

“I swear to you that if anything happens I’ll call you in. Then we can kick his ass.” You placed a hand on your shoulder and you smile. 

Melanie would probably break all of his bones before anything could happen. 

“It’s funny though. I was serious. It’s like every time I talk to him, I’m just so at peace.”

***********************************************************************

“I stuck around because, you know, your best friend has a medical emergency with a random guy; you can’t just leave. We all talked for a while, but it became glaringly obvious when Namjoon came back that he was already so in love with her. I had never seen Melanie let her guard down with someone like that.” You chuckled, and everyone else joined in.

“That night, Melanie came back to my place, and I swear she didn’t shut up about him—not even for a second. She explained everything that happened in excruciating detail, and I thought it was the craziest first-date story I’d ever heard. But that wasn’t what captivated her. It was how Namjoon smiled, how kind and funny he was, how charming. She didn’t care that everything had gone wrong; she only cared about seeing him again. That was when I knew this was serious. This wasn’t just some fling—Namjoon was sticking around.”

You smiled at Melanie and Namjoon, realizing she had found exactly what she’d been looking for. He was the one who would treasure her heart, never to crush it. You remembered the night she met him, how she called you about another idiot she had to rescue, how he reminded her of you and how stupid he was.

She was in love with Namjoon from the very first night.

“All I have left to say is, Namjoon, I’m sorry I thought you were a creep. I couldn’t have asked for anyone better for Melanie to be with. Congratulations!”

You clapped, and everyone followed suit. Letting out a heavy breath of relief, you quickly made your way back to your seat. Ash was practically glowing, excitement written all over her face.

“That was so good!” She pats you on the back a you sit down.

“It was literally the only memory I could think of to be honest.” You scoot your chair in and you watch as dinner was being served to each table. Your food being sat in front of you. 

You look back to Namjoon and Melanie who were only looking at each other. She was so happy, so in love, and has gotten everything she wanted. We finally made it to this day.

Thank god because you were over wedding planning for a long time. 

“We did it.” You said, Ash was also looking over at them. 

“We really did. Now we get to party and have a good time!” She looks at her drink for a moment and then hand sit to you, “Drink up. This night could only get better if you fall on your face” 

You rolled your eyes and push her drink back over to her plate. 

Everyone at dinner and mingled, a lot of the relatives from both Namjoon and Melanie's sides of the family came over and talked to you. Slowly everyone finished up and cake was also served. Namjoon and Melanie were not fond of the official cake cutting thing so they just wanted it to be served out once dinner was done. Everyone ate and mingled, and you got to hear lots of stories about Namjoon over the years. He really was just a good guy, everyone spoke of him so highly. 

Even though he was one of your good friends, it was so interesting to hear about him from before. 

You also got to hear some childhood stories about Melanie that you were going to keep in your memory for later. Definitely some embarrassing ones you can bring up at other times. Eventually the DJ showed up and everyone began to dance. Everyone is getting more and more drinks in them and loosening up. You were also one of these people. It was nice to finally wind down after a very stressful weekend. 

Just dance and have a nice time. 

You had gone back to your table though and it was now a slow song, which gave you a chance to be off your feet for a little while. You did take off your shoes and just watched everyone dance. Melanie and Namjoon had begun to make some rounds around the room to greet family they hadn’t had a chance to speak too yet. Ash was off dancing with some cousin or other of someone. 

You just took a sip of your drink and closed your eyes for a moment and just listened to the music. 

“All alone?” There he was, the little pest who had avoided you all night. 

You open your eyes and look at Jungkook who has taken Ash’s vacant seat.

“I don’t see you with anyone.” You let out an annoyed sigh. 

“Hmm not true. I have been chatting up that lovely young thing over there.” He points past you. 

He’s pointing to Melanie's widowed grandmother. You couldn’t help but let out a laugh. 

“She’s way out of your league.” You take a sip of your drink. 

“I know right.” He says matter of factly, “Thought I would come over and give this back to you though.”

He places your cards back on the table, you slide them back over to yourself, lining up the edges of them.

“That was a mean prank Jungkook.” You scowl at him. 

“It worked didn’t it? Your story was great.” 

“I guess.” You don’t look at him, “Can you go bother someone else now.”

“I can’t. Unfortunately, I have been tasked to ask you to dance.” 

You snort, laughing right in his face, maybe louder than necessary. “You’re kidding, right?”

He doesn’t even flinch. “Nope. Bride’s orders. She wants to see you ‘enjoy yourself.’ Her words, not mine,” he says, looking as unenthusiastic as you feel.

Your eyes narrow as you scan the room, landing on Melanie, who’s grinning like a Cheshire cat and motioning toward the dance floor. You shake your head at her, but she just waves and mouths the word “Go,” as if you have a choice.

You sigh dramatically. “Do we really need to do this?”

“It’s her day. One dance.”

You roll your eyes. “Fine. One. But if you step on my foot, I’m taking you down.”

He stands up, stepping around the table with that annoyingly smug look. “Shall we?” His smile is barely there, but it’s cocky enough to make your blood boil.

“Don’t push it,” you mutter, taking his hand. You barely make contact, hovering your fingers above his like even touching him might burn you. As he leads you onto the dance floor, you bury yourselves among the other couples, hoping no one’s watching. His hand settles on your waist, and instinctively, you pull away.

He raises an eyebrow, clearly amused. “It’s a dance, genius. I kind of have to touch you.” You begrudgingly let him place his hand back on your waist, feeling the heat of his fingers through the fabric. “Not like we haven’t done more,” he adds with a smirk.

Your jaw tightens. “We are not doing this right now.”

“Why not? It’s funny,” he says, grinning wider.

“It’s not funny. And if you make this a running joke, I swear—”

He cuts you off, still smiling. “Alright, no jokes. Just dancing.”

The silence between you is thick as you sway to the music, the tension almost unbearable. Every inch of you screams to get away, but somehow, you stay. His body is warm—too warm—and it’s irritating how natural it feels to fall into rhythm with him. You hate it.

“This could be worse,” he murmurs, voice softer than you expect.

“Yeah, I could be dancing with someone I actually like,” you shoot back, the words slipping out before you can stop them.

His eyes flick down to meet yours. “Always so charming,” he says, rolling his eyes. “You don’t have to make this harder.”

You smirk, the alcohol making you bolder. “Oh, trust me, I can make it way harder if you want.”

He snorts. “Of course you’d take it there.”

“Just saying. You’re the one who couldn’t keep it together last night,” you bite back, giving him a pointed look. Jungkook competitive side kicking into gear.

His hand tightens ever so slightly on your waist. “You’re really gonna go there?”

“You started it.”

Shaking his head. “Fine. This isn’t so bad, right? We’ve done worse things together.”

You bristle at his words, heat rising to your cheeks. “Like I said, let’s not make this a thing.”

“Fine. But don’t act like it wasn’t on your mind.” His voice is low, taunting. It had been on your mind, but you had been doing your best to push it to a deep place inside you to forget.

You glare up at him. “I barely remember it.”

He grins, leaning in just enough that you can smell the cigarettes and cologne on him. “Sure you don’t.”

You roll your eyes, willing your heart to stop racing. “Whatever. This is officially the worst slow dance of my life.”

“Mine too,” he says, but there’s something in his tone that makes you think he’s not completely serious.

The song drags on, slow and painful. Finally, you break the silence. “So... back to hating each other after tonight?”

He meets your eyes, his smirk fading just slightly. “That’s the plan, isn’t it?”

You hesitate for a second longer than you should. “Yeah. I guess so.”

There’s a flicker of something in his expression—something you don’t have time to figure out before he lets you go, stepping back as the song ends.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。..・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。..・。.・゜✭

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.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。..・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。..・。.・゜✭