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dearlyd3parted · 3 months ago

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𝚃𝚑𝚒𝚛𝚍 𝚝𝚒𝚖𝚎 𝚒𝚜 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚌𝚑𝚊𝚛𝚖: 𝙴𝚟𝚎𝚗 𝚏𝚘𝚛 𝚜𝚙𝚒𝚍𝚎𝚛𝚜 | 𝙼𝚊𝚛𝚔 𝙻𝚎𝚎 𝚡 𝚁𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚎𝚛

🕸️chapter index: chap 1 chap 2 chap 3 🕸️ this chapter contains smut! 🕸️ pet name usage: baby, babe, love, the usual ^_^

𝙲𝚑𝚊𝚙𝚝𝚎𝚛 3: 𝚃𝚑𝚎 𝚃𝚑𝚒𝚛𝚍 𝚃𝚒𝚖𝚎 - 9.6k

Yesterday was difficult.

It was now Saturday, and you were pondering on the time you had with Mark the day before. It wasn’t anything special. Actually, the day itself wasn’t difficult at all.

When you brought up Xiaojun at the start of the week, or better yet, the idea of dating, you weren’t expecting him to be so…reactive. Well, obviously you couldn’t be 100% sure that was the reason, but you weren’t stupid. It was the only new factor that could have caused this change in behavior. Mark stumbled on his words more often, his eyes a little wider and little more downturned in fear and worry, the alleged secret admirer that just appeared, and his writings in the webs. Mark had always been strange, but never in a way so unexplainable.

It seemed all you could think about the whole week is what any part of this could mean. Did it make him uncomfortable to learn this new information about you? Had he forgotten how to act around you? Or, is it what you hoped for? Was he affected?

It made you feel insane that you were thinking about it so heavily, like a schoolgirl with some kind of toxic limerence, trying to dissect the pieces in her favor.

It didn’t help that yesterday had been so nurturing. Mark rarely has a drained social battery; that’s just not a common thing in his nature. He’d just rather spend alone time with you, and you were unfortunately aware of that. Unfortunately, because it made you that much more hyper aware of every small detail. That much more aware of every unconditional smile, every tug on your sleeve when he wanted you to follow, every laugh that echoed in your skull. And not to exclude his penetrating eyes as you tried to sleep on the train, but how could you when he was so close, his eyes never straying from anywhere but you. It was impossible not to burn under them.

Worst of all, that look. That god forsaken look that had you sliding down the wall of your apartment entrance the moment you entered your home. You had seen it before, it never got easier. There wasn’t a time you could recall where it didn’t make your hands sweaty and your heart thump aggressively in your chest. It just couldn’t have come at a worst time.

It was just unfair, honestly. For Mark to look at you like you created the sun and the stars given the events of the past week. It made you wonder if he would still look at you like that if he knew.

It wasn’t a crime to be in love, you knew that. Though it definitely felt like a crime to be in love with your best friend for years without end, never once saying a word. You had told yourself all this time that you didn’t want to burden him with the weight of what you felt on top of the burden of being a hero, and that had allowed all these years to pass. You had to ask yourself a lot more frequently now if that was really the case or only part of it. If Mark knew you loved him, he would know every action, every word that came from your being the past few years was laced with something else other than friendship. There was always the chance it would ruin those memories. That he would never look at you in the way you adored ever again.

Trying to figure out Mark Lee was exhausting. On top of that, figuring out yourself and dealing with self-doubt that you had never been one to struggle with, it had worn you.

After your face burned 5 shades less red, you pulled yourself up from the floor, dragging yourself to your bed and flopping down, sleep coming easy aside from the recurring images of Mark that were always just there. Distantly, you wished you never started this effort of trying to press his buttons. Things would have stayed the same, but they wouldn’t have been so frightening.

You drifted quickly to sleep, and when you woke up you found yourself still in that pool of bad emotions. Yunjin was out for the weekend, and the apartment felt unsettling being so quiet. If this was a normal circumstance, you’d probably find comfort in your best friend. However, you figured that would probably make you feel worse.

So, you sat on your fire escape, dangling your feet into the night. It felt less alone than being in your room for some reason, and it was a good place to pop in headphones and listen to whatever music decided to shuffle on. It was the best effort you could think of to try and stray away from a fact you knew was becoming irrefutable. All this love was too large to be contained anymore.

You were lightly jostled out your melancholic state when your phone started to buzz, and you pulled it out of your pocket of your hoodie the screen shined with the caller id “Mark ᓚ₍⑅^..^₎♡” under a picture of the both of you during your 7th grade spring formal. You sighed as your thumb went to slide to answer. Mark really was inescapable, but you couldn’t seem to get enough. “Hi, Mark.”

“I’ve been texting you! I already started my patrol, but as soon as I went out, I went to chase after a bike thief! He was pretty slippery to catch, but I got him! I don’t know whose bike this is though…” Mark rambled through the phone, a small smile on your face despite everything. “I’ll have to leave a note…Anyway, join me, yeah?”

You sighed, a few hours of going back and forth with Mark is probably the last thing you needed. However, you already admitted you can’t get enough. “Yeah, I’ll join you. Give me a second.”

Shuffling could be heard on Mark’s end, signifying he was up to some sort of shenanigans, as he quickly responded. “Alright! I’ll be waiting!”

You hung up the phone, looking out at the city one more time, before heading into your room. You sat at your desk chairs, letting your monitors light up as your computer powered on, and before you knew, you could hear the familiar ‘beep beep’ indicating that you had connected to the communications system. Your first sight was Mark standing in a pizza shop.

You couldn’t help but laugh a bit, finding it ridiculous that he had already gotten distracted “Got hungry?”

Mark perked up as he heard your voice. “Ah! You’re here! Yeah, I thought I’d swing by. Just waiting on mine now! The guy tried to give it to me for free again, but I slipped a 20 in his jar. You want some?”

You were adjusting the volume and screen on your monitor, going to answer him. “No, I’m okay-”

A gasp could be heard as you felt a cold and rough hand come up to your mouth. You could hear Mark asking what was wrong as your chair turned around, and suddenly you were surrounded by 3 men you had never seen, one of them clearly holding some kind of weapon.

Your eyes went wide as you watched one of them hold a finger up to his mouth, and before your body or mind could react, there was a bag over your head.

. 　˚　✭　*✦　.　‧₊˚🕷‧₊˚　.　✦　˚ 　 ˚　.˚ ✭　.

Mark was feeling a lot better.

He had a nice day with his crush of years the day prior, and although he had lost a few battles this week, the war wasn’t over. He realized that now.

For the first time since the week started, he didn’t feel anxious or like his world was coming to an end. He was…calm. As calm as he could be as he started his patrol, unable to get a hold of you. He figured you were busy and would get back to him momentarily, and as he saw someone yelling after a man wearing all black with a stolen bike, he decided to get right to it.

That chase ended up taking him longer than he expected. He definitely had an experienced bike thief on his hands. After leaving a note on a bike whose owner was nowhere to be found at that point, his stomach growled a bit, so he swung himself to his favorite pizza parlor. Mark frequented there even in his full Spider-suit ever since he forgot he was wearing it once and waltzed right in. Now every time he goes, he has to bicker with the owner who never wants to let Mark pay.

As he waited for his pizza, you finally answered. It didn’t take him long to notice that you sounded sadder than usual. While you switched from the phone call to the comms system, he figured that he should get to the bottom of whatever was causing you to be gloomy.

And then, you stopped talking.

One second you were talking to Mark, declining his offer of pizza, and after a short gasp, he couldn’t hear anything.

He tried to call out to you and gave it a minute or two. Maybe you stepped away and would be back soon. That had to be it. However, after Mark started calling out again with no answer, a terrible yet familiar feeling set in the pit of his stomach. The one he got before most of his major fights that signified impending doom. This was worse, though, way worse. Mark had never gotten it with you.

His feet were moving before he could process it, running out of the pizza restaurant and jumping into the night. You were far, your apartment being a good 3 miles away. Mark figured if he hurried, he could reach it in 5 minutes. So, that’s what he did. He was still using that burdensome unassisted aim, and he was going at a speed that surely one mistake could cause him to get hurt. Mark didn’t care. He wasn’t even thinking about that. All he knew is that he needed to reach you as soon as possible.

Mark saw your apartment in the distance, his body going overdrive as he ran on the ledge of a building, throwing himself into his final few swings. As he approached, the pit in his stomach only made him more nauseous when his eyes landed on your window wide open.

“Maybe she just wanted some air and left it open, maybe she just wanted some air,” Mark muttered to himself in a breathless state, as he landed on the wall, jumping onto your fire escape. He wasted no time in climbing in, the apartment deadly silent.

“Y/n?” Mark called loudly, making his way room to room, finding that no one was there. He turned back to your room, his blood running a little colder. “Just call her…Just call her…” Mark murmured, pulling his phone out to dial you.

Mark’s head turned when he heard your phone buzzing on the desk, walking up to pick it up. The sight confirmed to him that something was wrong. “Shit.” He whispered to himself, holding the phone tight in his hands.

Mark’s head flew up as a signal struggled to connect to your monitor, and suddenly he was met with a face he had never seen before. A man with a scar above his eye.

“Spiderman…I see you’ve made it.”

Mark leaned on the desk, staring at the monitor trying to get a better look at the man. “Who the hell are you?”

The man chuckled, his eyes dark as he stared at Mark. “Not important. All you need to know is that I have your little girlfriend.”

Mark’s heart couldn’t have sunk further, his body ran cold as his fists clenched. This douchebag was talking about you. He shuddered before he shot up, as if ready to bolt out. “Wh…Where is she?”

“She’s fine, don’t worry. All I need from you is the drive that gets me into junk drawer. I know you have one.”

The eyes on Mark’s mask narrowed. “Junk drawer? What do you need with that?”

The man seemed irritated, exhaling hard as he retorted. “Doesn’t matter to you. Just bring it to me and I’ll give you the girl. I won’t give you long.”

Mark would’ve flung out the window there and then, but then it hit him. “Where do I find you? Where are you?” He demanded with frustration.

“You’re a smart kid. I’m sure you can figure it out. We’ll be here…”

The man turned the camera and briefly, it flashed to you, sat in a chair before the connection cut, and Mark was left alone.

“Damnit!” He yelled as he sat down, already working to trace the origin of the call. Mark was working on autopilot, his heart racing as the seriousness of the situation set in.

How could this happen? Mark was just talking to you mere minutes ago. You were right, he hadn't been careful enough with you. Someone had connected you to him, and now you were gone. With a lunatic who wanted the entrance to junk drawer, at that. He worked diligently until he reached coordinates, and he was already flung out the window.

So many thoughts ran in his fear-stricken mind. Does he call for help? How much time did he have? Were you really alright? What does that idiot want with junk drawer?

He only knew one answer, he needed to make sure you were safe above all else.

. 　˚　✭　*✦　.　‧₊˚🕷‧₊˚　.　✦　˚ 　 ˚　.˚ ✭　.

The warehouse you were in was empty. Well, mostly empty. There were parts and scrap metals on the floor with tables scattered around, all of which with some weird unconventional weapon on top of them. There was only one table that didn’t have an odd invention on it, it held a plethora of monitors, and a chair for the man that you assumed was behind all of this.

You quickly realized this man was deranged in the most idiotic way. Your head was in a bag, a piece of tape over your mouth as you were rushed to the warehouse like some kind of movie kidnapping. You weren't moved in a car or by foot, someone had carried you with what sounded like some type of jet technology that sounded all sorts of unsafe. That way, you made it fast to the damp warehouse on the outer side of town.

The guy, who was addressed as Scar by his men on the radio, was quick to brag to you about his maniacal plan. He told you that he once worked for Tony Stark, and Tony got “petty” and fired him. He showed off his various “inventions” that he found pride in creating all on his lonesome. You sat there with your hands tied behind your back, not saying much in order to tread lightly around someone who was clearly not thinking straight.

As you heard him interact with Mark and his own lackeys, looking around at weapons that the more you looked at them didn’t look up to any legal standards, you started to figure him out.

“You’re making a mistake.” You said quietly to scar, who turned to look at you with a smirk. “They’re already at junk drawer, aren’t they?”

He scoffed, a cocky smile on his face. “You're smarter than your boyfriend.”

You closed your eyes, taking a deep breath at the word boyfriend, but feeling it wasn’t an appropriate time to correct him. “Your machinery doesn’t look safe, junk drawer is protected for a reason. There’s tech in there that could be dangerous if used wrong. And…if Stark Industries fired you, it must have been for a reason. A man like Tony doesn’t do things out of pettiness.”

Scar’s expression grew a little more serious before he huffed and turned around to look away from you. “What are you, a fan of the avengers or some shit?”

You pursed your lips, fan was an understatement. “Maybe. Doesn’t matter. Some of these weapons don’t look up to regulation. If these were sold…it…it’s just a mistake.”

Scar was visibly more irritated now. “Shut up before I put the tape on your mouth again. I know what I’m doing.”

You highly doubted he did, the whole stunt a clear act of vendetta. You just hoped Mark would realize that soon as well. Afterall, a villain with no plan is more unpredictable than one who does have one.

Your foot tapped anxiously as you kept trying to budge at the ropes on your hands. It was just a waiting game for Mark to show up, all while his men were already making plans to enter junk drawer when it was left vulnerable. The wait didn’t last long, as it turned out Mark found the coordinates faster than you expected when you both heard a thud land on the roof.

Scar stood up, standing behind your chair as he turned you to face the entrance, and the situation was only becoming more and more tense. “He’s too early.”

Seconds later, Mark was stumbling in, and Scar was prepared with an outstretched hand, hooked onto some kind of makeshift ray, a copy of some of Stark Industries tech, as a message to stay back.

There was a silence as Mark assessed the situation, and you could tell he was acting frantically. In the silence, your mouth was open before you could think it through. “You have to go to junk drawer, there's already people over there! He’s bluffing!” You blurted out, Scar yelling ‘Shut up!’ as soon as you said it.

Mark stood with a firm stance, his face unreadable under the mask, slowly he started to inch forward. “I have the drive.” Mark announced, seemingly completely ignoring what you had said. “You have to let her go.”

Scar only smiled, pulling the chair back with you in it. His hand snaked around your neck. You gulped as you stared at Mark with a growing expression of worry. More for the heist that was about to take place and less for yourself. “Good. Keep walking, slow and steady, until I tell you to stop.”

Mark was beside himself, this whole thing had felt like a fever dream to him up until then. Up until he saw this random guy with his hand around your neck. Touching you. “Okay! Okay! Just…don’t do anything.” Mark blurted through his teeth., trying to seem assertive but ultimately sounding what he was, horrified.

Mark kept inching closer as Scar moved his hand away from your neck to the back of your chair. “Just keep walking, slowly.” Scar ordered.

So, he did. He inched closer and closer, and you couldn’t believe he was entertaining this. “…just drop it and go.” You pleaded, your voice desperate and worried as he kept coming closer. Mark ignored you again, it was clear he was disregarding what you were saying despite the severity of the situation.

You could feel Scar’s satisfied smile with each second that passed. It was never about you at all, it was always about wasting time. Yet, Mark couldn’t seem to understand that. “Keep walking, a little further.” Mark obeyed, walking closer and closer, the drive clenched in his hands.

Suddenly, scar spoke out. “Stop. You’re close enough.” Scar demanded when Mark was only a few feet away. “Put the drive on the floor, and back away.”

Mark did just that, scrambling back faster than he came. The air was thick as Scar stepped out from behind you, walking to pick up the drive and returning back to the chair.

Mark watched in a nervous silence as the ropes on your chair were undone. Yet once you were free, his hands were on your shoulders, not letting you move. You looked back to Scar, a lump in your throat, and to Mark with a heavy look.

“I did it,” Mark said shakily, getting frustrated, “so let her go.”

Scar was silent, listening to the feedback on the radio behind him, as if deciding what to do. He kept a tight hold on you, as he pulled the chair back with you in it, the legs scraping making an unbearable sound. Not as unbearable as getting pulled farther and farther away from Mark, though, wanting this whole thing to be over already.

As you and Scar reached closer to his communication systems, you could hear the discourse. The men on the other side are still going back and forth with each other, one of them asking ‘how much time?’ and something in your stomach told you this wouldn’t be the end of it. You could hear him behind you, doing something, reaching for something, but your eyes wouldn’t leave Mark.

Finally Scar let go of your shoulders, the freedom catching you off guard. “Stand up, go to him slowly.

You did just that, the adrenaline barely keeping you up on your own two feet as you put one foot in front of the other. You didn’t know what slow meant, what was acceptable or unacceptable, but you did know that if you didn’t get to Mark soon, you wouldn’t reach him at all. In a moment, your heart skipped a beat, a chill down your spine as you decided to break into a full sprint.

Your efforts were in vain, and as you had expected, that God awful jet sound came on, and a gangly cold arm snaked around you, shooting you in the air.

You could barely process your own scream as you clung onto it for life, debris falling over your face as you were shot out of the warehouse ceiling. When you found it in you to open your eyes and look at Scar, he wore a stressed look.

“Let’s go for a little walk.”

. 　˚　✭　*✦　.　‧₊˚🕷‧₊˚　.　✦　˚ 　 ˚　.˚ ✭　.

Ever since Mark knew you, you always seemed to talk with your face. Therefore, it was heart wrenching when he saw you communicating something he had never seen on the face he adored, genuine dread and fear.

That is what he was met with as he walked into the warehouse, trying to comply with this asshole’s demands so he could get you out of here, preferably kick his ass, and make sure nothing like this ever happened again due to his carelessness. Yet, there you were, telling him to leave. To go protect junk drawer, as if that was more important than you.

As he placed the drive down on the floor, He could care less what the implications were if junk drawer was getting broken into at that very moment. All Mark knew is that it was making his blood boil to see the man touching you, making you sweat in anxiety under his calloused hands. He knew he had to put an end to it soon.

Mark only briefly thought about the plan being used to waste his time. Under any other circumstance, he would be strategizing to get you out of harm's way and interject in the villainy taking place. The latter seemed to matter nothing to him, not when everything was at stake.

Mark’s breathing trembled a little in relief when he finally saw you inching towards him, still with those words on your face that said something was wrong. He pieced together what it was when you tried to sprint, and just like that, you were in the air. Without a single thought, he was swinging after you.

Mark used every ounce of stamina and strength he had to chase after you. Those jets were strong and bulky, emitting some sort of beam of heat that he just knew he couldn’t get close to. His heartbeat only picked up, his pants heavy as he tried to think of how he could get close enough. The man was flying with you higher than the skyline, and if Mark wanted to reach you, he’d have to swing himself from with lots of momentum.

Until, the jets started sputtering, a nasty smoke emitting from it as the man seemingly started to lose control. Perhaps it would’ve been a good thing, but he was carrying you. Mark didn’t care if he got burned, he started moving in closer. As he did, the man made a b-line higher and farther for a building under construction.

Mark enhanced his sight, zooming in to watch as the man went in hot, the jetpack on its final stretch.

Time was moving slow for Mark as he watched the jet contraption fail, sending you and the man landing on the construction site, followed by an explosion that rattled the structure as Scar’s invention gave in on itself. Mark wasn’t even looking as the guy tried to get away, fidgeting with some other gadgets he had on him, he could only see you terrified and knelt down on the flimsy wood panels of the structure, frantically looking around. He was so relieved, yet so shaken to see you were alright, knowing that it was seconds away from going wrong.

Mark’s been in life-or-death situations, fought villains and monsters of the ordinary person’s nightmares. He had never been as scared as he was in that moment, since he realized you were gone. Never had he felt chills run up the back of his spine so prickly and cold. Suddenly, it made sense what it was that had caused him to be a coward the whole week. Why he couldn't utter a three-letter phrase that came so easy to live but so hard to admit to you, especially when it could change everything.

He was scared to lose you.

Mark landed as softly as he could in front of you as to not jeopardize the likely unstable floors, kneeling in front of you as he grabbed your face that ran pale in fear. “Are you okay?! Are you hurt?!” He questioned breathlessly, his eyes roaming over every inch of you.

You nodded, your hands shaking as you went out to grab his wrists. “I... I’m fine, I told you he’s not trying to hurt me. He’s just buying time.”

Mark couldn’t buy that you were alright, not until he was one-hundred percent certain. “What’d he do to you? Was he in your house?”

You sighed shakily, your head shaking, “Mark, I said I’m fine. You need to get to junk drawer.”

Mark shook his head, looking around for any signs of Scar. “I don’t care, I’m not leaving you.” Mark asserted, his hands holding onto yours tight. “I’ve gotta get you away from here-”

“Mark, please listen. This guy’s crazy, if his weapons get on the market who knows-”

“Y/n please,” Mark cut you off, his head turning back to look at you. “No way in hell am I going anywhere when he’s out for you.”

“He’s not after me, please just listen-”

“You listen to me!” Mark said in frustration, his anger and horror and stress from the past hour bubbling up as he snapped at you, “I don’t care what they’re doing.”

“I only care about the girl that I’m in love with, and I’m not leaving you!"

Mark stared at you, a blank expression under his mask. He wasn’t able to stare for long, nor was he able to feel the effects of what had just blurted out of his mouth before his head whipped around, and aimed right at him was another weapon that looked like it couldn’t possibly be regulated. His body was moving before he could process it, and now he was just pissed off.

Total peace wasn’t an option for Spiderman, but it was for Mark. Mark had found that in you, and for someone to take the one thing, the one person he had all to himself to comfort him, it made him ooze with rage. He dodged poorly taken shots, jumping and flipping from place to place as he avoided every hit, coming in with only one motive to make sure this guy couldn’t get near you again.

Mark’s mind and body moved on its own the closer he got, desperate to put an end to everything. When he came to his senses, it seemed he had won. A particularly effective web had Scar tied around a pole, unable to move.

Mark stood in front of him, his chest going up and down as the haze in his mind allowed him to only think apprehend, apprehend, apprehend dimming down as the worst of it seemed to be over.

Scar’s condition seemed to be far worse, struggling against the webs, yelling out in a fit of rage as his vengeful eyes sat on Mark.

“It’s over, just stop fighting, man.” Mark hissed, his fists clenched on his sides.

Scar moved one of his hands that was hidden behind his back to the front. When Mark looked down, he noticed a little remote in them.

“I hope you don’t make it.”

Mark didn’t have time to be confused before a boom vertebrated behind him. His body twisted, running in a full sprint towards you and your falling figure.

It was quite ironic when you really thought about it. When he was first bitten by that spider, he often cursed the responsibility that came with his great powers, one’s he never explicitly asked to have. He spent a lot of his rookie years wondering why him. Why Mark Lee? As if he wasn’t odd enough, never fitting into most places. Now he just had to be the weird and awkward one and Spiderman. Some nights, he even wished he would wake up and he’d be normal again, never having to worry about his “duties” ever again.

Now, here he was. Soaring into the night to reach your outstretched hand, your fingertips moments away, praying to this once unwanted power of his to work in his favor for once and save you. Someone who gave him something that he never has and never will beg to go away in his life. Someone who gave him love.

Once his hand clasped yours, he pulled you into his chest, grunting as he shot a web just in time, to deflect the fall. The both of you were already too close to the ground, and the best landing he could stick was flipping through the air, breaking the fall with his own body as he slid to a stop in an empty lot.

It was quiet for a long time as Mark gazed up into the sky, holding you tight in his arms. Only when he heard the sound of sirens and an sound inside his hud that Mr. Stark was on his way and alert of the situation did Mark’s eyes flicker back to life. Looking up to see the destruction of the construction site and holding you tighter, Mark let his head fall back, breathing a sigh of relief that it was over. You were safe.

His body ached, and his arms hesitantly untangled themselves and outstretched on the cold floor. Mark’s injuries were the last of his worries, his only concern was your wellbeing. He didn’t know if you had sustained any injuries from that whole thing, the only indication that you weren’t knocked out cold was your hands gripped firmly on his shoulders still, and the slight shake in your body.

“Y/n,” Mark said softly, “Come on. We’ve gotta get you to a hospital.”

When Mark tried to stand the both of you up, he was met with resistance, your body doing its best to push him to stay down. Mark hated not seeing your face, not knowing what you were feeling, so all he could think of doing was wrapping his arms around you again. Fearful? Shaken? Angry? Maybe it was a mix of all of those? God, he wanted to know so he could make it better so bad-

Oh. You lifted your head to look at Mark. You looked like you felt all of those, but one he wouldn’t have expected was the most prominent.

Longing.

“Are you really in love with me?”

Mark’s heart sank for what must have been the millionth time that day, and he thought that couldn’t possibly be a healthy amount. He hardly remembered any of what he said during that whole ordeal, but as he was reminded of that one, it definitely sounded like him.

He was cornered, completely and utterly cornered. Not only could he not run with you on top of him, but he also probably couldn’t run after that fall anyway. What he really couldn’t escape though, were those damn eyes that were big and curious and desperate for an answer.

So, he just started talking.

“Are you really asking me?”

If that wasn’t an answer enough by the way that his lip quivered as he stared at you, Mark’s hand moved to brush hair out of your face, looking at you like nothing else existed in that moment before he continued. “You know…I’ve nearly died a lot more than your average person.”

Mark laughed under his breath, talking quietly as he was still trying to recover from getting the wind knocked out of him. “Everytime it happens, I experience that life flashing before your eyes thing. It isn’t…what it seems. People make it sound like it's a slideshow of your best memories that just plays out. It’s not. It’s like…a dvd player, and you get to pick your favorite movie.”

“Everytime, I chose to see you.”

Mark smiled weakly, his eyes beaming with something he had never quite let you fully see before. “Maybe because you’re comforting, or because it feels like you’re all I’ve ever known, or maybe because I love you, but it’s always you. Sometimes, I look forward to that. Almost dying. Cause’ it means even if just for a second, you’re all I see. Though, it’s like that even when I'm fully conscious as well.”

Mark sighed, throwing his head back as he grabbed his face in disappointment. “Sorry, not making much sense, I think I hit my head too hard.” He admitted with a small giggle. “I thought…I’d made that much obvious. But I’ll say it again for the record, in case you didn’t notice.”

“I really, really, really love you.”

The eyes on his mask blinked in disbelief like he couldn’t believe he finally uttered the words. “You don’t have to say anything, and whatever you decide to do with that, I’ll accept it wholeheartedly. But honestly…I’m just glad you know.”

Mark couldn’t stop looking at you, a glossy film over your eyes. He always imagined what you would look at him like when he told you. In his wildest fantasies, you wore the widest smile on your face or made a completely disgusted look. He couldn’t have predicted this one, but…in a good way.

After a short stillness, your hands moved to pull the mask off his face, throwing it to the side as your hands shakily came to his cheeks. For what felt like ages, you couldn’t take your eyes off every part of his face, reading him like a map. Your thumbs were tracing over his cheeks, his jaw, the outer corner of his eyes, and Mark only stared at you wordlessly, your reaction becoming less and less predictable.

Mark definitely couldn’t predict your lips on his. Nor could he predict how soft and pillowy they were.

When you pulled away, a small prickle fell from the corner of your eye, and his hand was quick to reach up to wipe it away. As if any tear on your face was sacrilegious. They were happy tears, though, that was evident with your smile as you beamed at him, “You’re an idiot.”

Idiot was the last thing your tone of voice was saying to him, and soon he was smiling too, his hands running around your neck. “I guess I am.”

Mark can’t be blamed for leaning in for yet another kiss. Not when he was finally granted permission to do what he’s always wanted to.

. 　˚　✭　*✦　.　‧₊˚🕷‧₊˚　.　✦　˚ 　 ˚　.˚ ✭　.

1 month later

Having Spiderman as a boyfriend had its perks for sure, but sometimes there were things that you just had to deal with.

For example, it meant you would never be late to work or class ever again. If you had woken up late, you had your own public transportation system to throw you from place to place. The same thing could be said if you ever needed something from the grocery store or wanted some takeout, as Spiderman proved to be faster than any delivery service. Of course, there was the pride you felt at all the good deeds your boyfriend and longtime best friend had done. A compliment to him felt like a compliment for you. He had also gotten you a signed card from almost every avenger you could name. Although he had done that one for you long before he became your boyfriend, it’s just nice to list it off.

One of the downsides you could name though was definitely when he would knock at your window covered in cuts, bruises, scrapes, sometimes having broken bones, and a hurt ego. However, he had done that long before he was your boyfriend as well.

Tonight, as you laid down enjoying some rest and a movie after a long day, you knew that would be the case when there was a knock at your window, and a quick turn of your head showed you Spiderman pawing at the glass. “Babe? Let me in, yeah?”

You scurried up, knowing by the sound of his wince that something had happened as you quickly popped open the window. As you took a step back, a tattered Mark Lee entered the room, pulling off his mask and revealing a cut that had even made it up to his lip. However, he didn’t seem to be in excruciating pain as he smiled and wrapped his arms around your waist, his head resting on your shoulder. “Hi, Y/n. I may have had a little accident.”

You sighed, a small smile on your face as your hands came up to rub his back, finding that he winced a little as you went to touch it. “Mm..I see. What happened now?”

Mark only nuzzled further starting his rant. “Well, long story short, I went to go find Mr. Stark and he was in the midst of hashing it out with this weird like…metal man. I was like, ‘Mr. Stark, need some help!?’ and he was like, ‘Just go home kid!’ but I didn’t really listen and kept trailing behind him. So, ended up getting dragged into it.”

You pushed him away and only held onto his arms as you looked up at him. “Are you serious?” You asked with concern, looking down to see he did have quite a few cuts.

Mark nodded with a smug smile, leaning in to plant a long kiss on your forehead. “Mm…yeah. Love you.” He mumbled, sounding way too normal about the whole thing.

A month wasn’t long enough for you to be used to Mark’s level of affection, but really you wondered if any amount of passing time would ever make your heart pound less in your chest. “Yeah, I love you too. But…we gotta clean these up. Go wait by the sink, yeah? I’ll get the first aid kit.”

Mark placed another kiss near your eye, causing you to flutter it shut. “Yes, Ma’am.” He replied, trodding his way to your bathroom as you scrumaged around your room to find the first aid kit you learned to keep on hand at all times.

Once you found it, you made your way into the bathroom. Mark was leaning against the counter, his suit loosened up as he inched his way out of the torso area. Placing down the first aid kit, you went to help him out, and he thanked you as his arms were finally free.

He looked down at himself, and so did you, he really was littered with small gashes sporadically throughout. Not to mention, it was criminal that he looked so good in such a state. “Mark…” you said softly, opening the first aid kit and getting straight to work. “You really have to listen to Tony when he tells you to do things.”

Mark winced as you wiped the first one with alcohol, his eyes fluttering shut. “Not my fault that weirdo started swinging at me!”

You smiled to yourself, his antics always being amusing to you. “Can’t believe you’re the Spiderman and you can’t take a little alcohol.”

Mark chuckled as he leaned one of his arms on the sink counter, the other resting at your hip. “Alcohol stings! You don’t have to clean them, you know. They’ll be gone in a few hours.”

You stopped dabbing, having barely placed your first bandaid down, a smile on your face. “Yet you always come so I can treat you.”

He smiled, pretending to pout as he pushed around strands of hair on your face. “Maybe I just wanna see you. Ever thought of that?”

Your cheeks went warm as you tried to continue what you were doing. “I figured that out a while ago.”

Mark just watched you, something he could do shamelessly now that he was dating you, and he knew that at least you knew a fraction of how much he loved you. He wasn’t sure you knew entirely, though. “Can I kiss you, please?” He asked in a pleading tone, his big eyes boring into you as both his hands moved to your hips. “You really don’t have to clean those. And, it’ll make me feel better.”

You sighed, putting down your cotton balls and bandages and meeting his gaze. “You’re so needy, you know that? What about the cut on your lip?”

Mark pulled you closer, wanting you pressed flush against him. “This thing?” He inquired by pointing at it, pressing his lips together to prove a point. “Barely even hurts.”

You giggled, and Mark felt his heart flutter knowing he caused it. He always did. “I guess I’ll allow it then.” You teased.

Mark tilted his head, leaning in closer to you as you stared at his lips. “I was gonna do it anyway.”

You swear you will never get sick of this feeling, the way that he handled you so carefully, his every move filled with adoration. Your first few kisses at the start of the relationship were slow and steady, testing out the water seeing how far they could go. Neither of you really had any experience before then, either being too awkward to have a first kiss or refusing to have it with anyone but each other and never knowing that fact.

However, ever since you started, it seemed you couldn’t stop. Small and sweet kisses, ones where you could feel his smile on your lips or whisper a quick ‘I love you’ turned into deeper and more passionate ones that…well…tended to end the same.

The point being, you couldn’t get enough of each other. Not after waiting all that time. So it went without saying that lately every kiss ended in Mark wanting to devour you. It was no different for this one.

It started off tame until it wasn’t, now Mark was passing his tongue across your lips, trying desperately to get inside, and squeezing your hips while he rubbed circles into you. Your hands rested on his shoulders, but honestly if he wasn’t so cut up they’d probably be running all over his torso.

Getting so heated while he was still in his spider suit was definitely new though, not that you were complaining when again, he looked way too good for someone who was supposed to be injured.

This kiss deepened, and you seemed to only want to press further into him. Mark’s hands got more explorative, and you found yourself opening your mouth even more, trying to taste every bit of him. It kept going until your hands at his neck started moving with a mind of their own, one of them reaching up to his nape and pulling on some of his hair.

For some reason, the small act drove Mark insane, and he detached his mouth from yours as a rather pathetic moan left his lips, and he looked at you with passionate eyes, his face burning red as he reached up one of his hands to bury it in. “Sorry, sorry.”

You were panting a little, trying to find your breath again after that as you stared at him with a soft smile. “It's okay.” You said softly to him.

You were hoping to continue, until you noticed something pressed firm against you, and you realized why Mark’s ears had gone so red. As you looked down, confirming a bulge pressed right into you, you swear you could hear Mark turn ten shades darker. You just smiled, brushing hair out of his face so you could see him better. “That excited already?”

Mark’s throat bobbed as he swallowed and looked at you. When you talked to him like that in the way he loved, especially during moments like this, it just wasn’t good for his sanity. “How can I not be? You’re too good at this.”

You laughed a little both of your hands on his face as you stared at him with parted lips. ”You want me to help?”

Mark’s face was shades of pink and red all over before he answered you, his voice a little shaky. “Help how?”

His heart almost slammed out of his chest as you knelt down, and it took everything in him to not start whining. “Love,” Mark muttered, his hands going down to your face, “You don’t have to do that.”

“I want to.” You answered back, tilting your head a bit as you looked up at him, your eyes shining with a desire in them. “You don’t want me to?”

Mark didn’t know whether to nod or shake his head, so instead he just waved his hands. “No! Yeah! I mean, I want to. I just…I don’t want you to feel like you have to.”

You smiled at him with your hands on his thighs and it felt like they were burning prints into him. “I wanna do this, Mark, so don’t worry.”

Before he could process it, his hands were gripping onto dear life on the counter behind him, and you were tugging at his suit, pulling it down to find his boxers. Mark could hardly contain himself as your hands played with the waistband. “I can take these off?”

All he could do was nod, watching as you pulled them off of him, excruciatingly slow, and feeling the heat creep up heavy on his neck once they were.

The both of you had gotten awfully used to each other in the past month. You really couldn’t keep your hands off of each other. This hadn’t happened, however, and he felt so vulnerable as you just stared at him, already leaking at the tip as you wrapped your hands around.

“I’ll try my best.” You said, and Mark shouldn’t have looked down, because he was met with the sight of your eyes directed straight at him as you took the tip of his dick in your mouth.

A shiver ran down his spine as you played with it, moving your tongue and your hand to see what made him react positively, but Mark was so obsessed with you and everything that you did that there wasn’t a single part he didn’t find enjoyable.

He tried to bring himself to watch, but everytime his head would start reeling. He resorted to keeping his gaze on the ceiling most of the time, his hands gripping onto the counter behind him. “Fuck…” Is all that Mark managed to whisper in a shaky voice, trying not to make much noise.

You wanted him to make noise. It’s a habit of his that drives you the craziest. When he enjoys it so much he can’t help but resort to whining, pleading, begging. As you looked up at him, you were determined to hear that from him. Slowly, you took more of him in your mouth.

Mark shot to look down the deeper you went He was half concerned, knowing you had never done this before and not wanting you to hurt yourself, but the sight of you adjusting yourself to take more of him went straight to his core. “Y/n…love…slow down…” Mark stuttered, his hands white from how hard he was grasping onto the countertop.

You didn’t pay him any mind, continuing to work to hear those sweet sounds from him, inching more and more as you tried tips you had heard before. Hollow out your cheeks, swirl your tongue, make eye contact. As you looked up at Mark and his crumbling composure, you confirmed that the last one definitely made him the craziest.

You had maybe fit only a little more than half of him in, taking a few breaks to catch your breath as you relied on your hand, and Mark was right where you wanted him. Moans and whines mixed together as his body shaked, and he didn’t know what to do with his hands. Either you were exceptionally good at this for your first time, or Mark couldn’t believe it was you. Likely both.

After what seemed like forever, you finally felt him hit the back of your throat, and you kept your hand on what didn’t fit. A few tears pricked in your eyes, but you didn’t care. You were enjoying seeing Mark fall apart way too much.

You wondered what would happen if you bobbed your head even more, and so you did. It seemed that was the breaking point for you poor boyfriend as he shuddered, his hand on the back of your head, grabbing at with caution. “Y/n…God. You can’t…” Mark whined out, his body shaking even more.

You could, and you kept going until he was reduced to whines and pants and you could feel him twitching in your mouth. He hunched over, trying to guide you away. “Love…I’m gonna cum…I don’t wanna hurt you.”

You ignored all of his efforts, finding his words as an encouragement to only keep going more and more and more. Then, finally he let out one final moan that told you to expect the hot fluid that filled your mouth, and you tried your best to keep it all contained as you finally let it out with a pop.

Mark leaned down to you, his eyes wide as he realized what he had just done. “Baby, you don’t have to…” Mark began to say, but cut himself short as he watched you gulp, licking your thumb for the small bit that had dribbled out of your mouth. “Did you just…?”

You nodded, standing up to your feet and grabbing onto his arms, almost like you were trying to indicate something. Soon after, Mark's lips crashed on yours.

There was something so attractive about a man who kissed you senseless regardless of having just came in your mouth, unafraid of his own taste. It was even more attractive as he picked you up effortlessly, never breaking the kiss, and sitting you down on the sink. Not to mention the way he knew what you wanted, and what you wanted was him.

“Tell me if you need me to stop, Okay?” Mark whispered against your neck, his hands on your thighs as he planted kiss after kiss. Soon, they roamed to the hem of your shirt. “Can I take all of this off?”

You nodded, barely saying a small ‘yeah’ as he started undressing you like a present. First your shirt, your bra, your shorts, and saving your panties for last. Never taking his lips off of yours or anywhere on your body as he did so.

“You’re so pretty. So good to me.” Mark said, placing kisses all over your jawline, on your chest, on your stomach, wherever he could reach. “I love you so much, Y/n. My beautiful girl. I can’t believe I get to have you like this.”

“Mark…” you groaned, saying his name in the way he knows means you needed something more.

Mark kissed your shoulders, his hand going down to your clothed cunt, feeling how soaked through it already was. He slid them off, throwing them to the side with the rest of your clothes. “I know, love, I know. I just really wanna be inside you, is that alright with you?”

You nodded eagerly, “I have condoms in my drawer.” You told him.

“Wait here.” Mark said as he scurried off to find one. You could hear him opening every drawer, probably making a mess rummaging through your things and finally he stumbled back in. Mark ripped it open and slipped it on, going back in to place a deep but quick kiss on your lips.

“Come, I wanna try something,” He said, pulling you off the sink. You expected him to move locations, instead, he just turned you around, back against him as you faced the mirror.

“I…Is that okay…?” Mark asked timidly. “I just…I want you to see.”

If you weren’t losing your mind already, you were at that point. Your hand stretched out behind you for him, finding his face. “Yeah, it’s okay…just please, do it already.”

It was an offer he couldn’t resist and he was lining himself up with you before you knew it. “I don’t think I need to prep you, but…” He said, placing a kiss on your shoulder. “Tell me how you feel, love.”

It was your turn to grip onto the counter as you felt Mark slide in, bottoming out in you pretty easily. It was a new position and Mark was just girthy, but the both of you seemed adjusted after a few moments.

“Mark…please move,” you pleaded to your boyfriend, yearning for feel some type of friction. Mark wouldn’t stop kissing your shoulders, your back, your neck, as he started to give you the movement you wanted.

Every thrust felt enhanced in this position, and you could hardly hold yourself up. Mark always started slow, but once he started to get comfortable, his stamina would allow him to just go faster and faster until one of you came first.

This was no different and your head hung down as he started to pick up his pace. That is, until he used his free hand that wasn’t on your waist directing your movements to pick it up, holding it firm so you could stare in the mirror. He groaned in your ear, losing himself by the second as he spoke. “I…I want you to watch.”

The phrase went straight to your core, and you could only shudder as you did as he wanted. You watched as he went from looking at you in the mirror, down to where he was pumping in and out of you like his life depended on it. You watched his hand on your waist, directing you onto him.

Needless to say, neither of you were going to last very long in this position. Soon Mark was getting sloppier in his movements, and when he started pushing your back down, reaching even deeper than he already was, you knew you were close.

“Mark….I…I’m really close…” You panted, your legs shaking underneath you.

That seemed to only make your boyfriend go faster, giving you the last bit of everything he had. “So am I…we can cum together, love.”

Mark resorted to both hands on your hips as you reached your peak and it had sent you over the edge. You leaned on the counter riding out your orgasm meanwhile Mark felt your walls contract around him, and it only took a few more thrusts before he was right there with you.

He slipped out of you, throwing away the condom as he caught his breath, seeing you leaned over the counter.

A few seconds later, Mark was hooking his arm around you and under your knees, carrying you bridal style to your bed. You were still out of it as he sat you down, and it was beyond how he has the ability to walk around after that.

Mark had gone into the bathroom, and came back out with his boxers on, a wash cloth, and a fresh pair of clothes to help you change into.

Sex was great. With Mark it was amazing, actually. However, nothing felt as great as having a partner who takes care of you, who helps you clean up and change into new clothes, who you know loves you unconditionally because you’ve known him for years. And during all this time, he always treated you with the same dignity and devotion.

As Mark finished helping you slip on a hoodie, you grabbed his hands, looking down at them with a warm look in your eye. “You know, I still can’t believe how many times you tried to confess to me.” You told him with a giggle, recalling the story he told you about his trials and tribulations in finally telling you he loves you.

Mark knelt down, wanting to meet your eye level better. “I can’t either. I’m honestly surprised we’re here even now.”

“I’m not.” You answered. “I don’t know…I just always felt like one day we would be. I always knew you’d be first to crack.”

Mark laughed, scooting closer to as his eyes stayed locked with yours. “I’m just grad I kept trying, because apparently the third time was the charm.”

“I took a leap of faith, and it gave me the love of my life.”

. 　˚　✭　*✦　.　‧₊˚🕷‧₊˚　.　✦　˚ 　 ˚　.˚ ✭　.

- chapter 1

-chapter 2

#nct 127 x reader #nct 127 fanfic #mark lee x reader #mark lee fluff #mark lee smut #nct x reader #mark lee #nct 127 #spidermark x reader #spidermark

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dearlyd3parted · 3 months ago

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🕸️chapter index: - chapter 1 - chapter 2 - chapter 3

𝙲𝚑𝚊𝚙𝚝𝚎𝚛 𝟸: 𝚁𝚎𝚊𝚍 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚠𝚎𝚋𝚜! - 8.2k wc

It went without saying that Mark’s first confession attempt went absolutely horribly.

After the whole fake secret admirer thing, he stumbled his way into getting ready for class, the awkwardness of the lie heavy in the air still. It took everything in him to not scream at the top of his lungs as he leaned against the bathroom sink, but the thin walls wouldn’t let him do that. Mark finished getting ready and pushed up his glasses while he approached you. He could only gulp at the sight of your expression, too complex for him to even begin to unpack.

Mark took a mental deep breath as he beamed at you grabbing his backpack and attaching his suit cuff on. “Sorry about the wait! I’m ready now!”

You shot to your feet, slinging your own bag over your shoulders, following him out wordlessly.

Doyoung happily waved goodbye to the both of you as you left. Well, he was happy with you. When he looked at Mark his face grimaced a bit, as if he knew. Like Mark had said, the walls were pretty thin.

It was a quiet walk up to the rooftop, Mark moving faster up the stairs. Usually, he would slow his pace to match your normal one. At the moment, he kind of wanted to throw up, cry, and knock himself out at the same time, so he kept a safe distance. All he could hear were his thoughts and your soft footsteps behind him. He wondered what you were thinking, if you had even believed that. If you did, he wondered how it made you feel. Nothing? Something? Anything? It killed him not knowing.

As he reached the rooftop, he let his bag splat on the floor as he got suited up, watching as you pulled out the official fan merch Spiderman hood used to hide your face whenever he swung through the city with you. The sight always made him giggle, but today it was overtaken by the unease in his stomach. You walked to the edge as you pulled the strings of your backpack, Mark following you timidly. “Can you swing a little faster? We really can’t be late. We only have O-chem Wednesdays and Fridays as is.”

Mark nodded, perched on the ledge in his signature pose as he motioned you over. “Y-yeah! Course I can. You sure…you can handle it, though?”

A small giggle could be heard under the mask as you set your arms out, ready to be scooped up. “I guess we’ll find out.”

Mark picked you up with a bit more reluctance than usual, his arm finding your waist as he held you against him. Truly, the last position he wanted to be in at the moment, but it couldn’t be helped. “Okay…here goes then.”

Soon, he was tipping you both over the ledge, feeling the familiarity of your arms latched across his neck. You squealed a little at the initial drop, but it always ended the same, your feet eventually kicking in the wind and a flurry of giggles in his ear.

You had grown fond of being swung by Spiderman over the years, even if the first few times ended in you being terrified for your life, swearing you would never do it again. It has become something you enjoy now. Maybe the rush had become addicting, or you just finally realized that Mark wouldn’t drop you. Either way, it was usually fun for the both of you. At the moment though, all Mark could think about is how close you were and how much of an idiot he was.

After a ride you seemed to enjoy, Mark landed on an office building right next to campus, one he frequently used to enter with no detection. As he set you on your feet, he held out his arms protectively as you found your balance, laughing at the butterflies in your stomach as you pulled off your mask. “That was fun!”

Mark pressed the emblem on his chest, his suit deactivating as he stared at you. Already smiling again after one swing through the city, despite the roller coaster he had taken you on this morning. Somehow, it made him feel even guiltier for lying. How he was such an idiot and you were everything good in the world, yet he lied to you. He could’ve spilled his heart out at that very second. He knew he wouldn’t, he couldn’t possibly. But as he followed you to the entrance of the building and down the stairs, he realized what this all said about him.

Spiderman duties aside, he was actually just a big coward.

Mark followed you, doing his best to not show every thought on his face and function like a normal human being. All he could think about, though, was that never in a million years did he expect to have messed up his confession that badly.

Sure, Mark is somewhat self-aware. He had figured out he would chicken out for maybe the first two or three attempts, but drag in an entirely made-up person in this to save himself? He would have never guessed that.

It upset him so much that he still thought about it as the both of you sat in class. On a whim, He began listing off all of the dangerous things he had done before.

Jumped off of the empire state building.

Fought off attempted bank heister's that had machine guns.

Stopped a train with his bare hands.

Caught a car

Caught two cars.

Caught a bus.

And a truck.

Did he mention the Captain America’s shield?

Fought intergalactic villains.

Fought some jerk with alien technology.

Fought plenty of other jerks whose sole intention was to kill Mark.

He could have really kept going, but there was no need. It was enough for him to stare at his textbook in confusion. To you, it must have seen like he was having a hard time grasping the material, since he has always hated silence. No, Mark couldn’t grasp himself.

When class was over, he peered over to you, watching you pack up your stuff and looking like nothing was wrong. If there was one positive, it was that you didn’t seem to be affected by his strange behavior. He swallowed hard as he turned to face you, his hand giving your shoulder a small tap. “Do you…want me to walk you to your next class?”

As you finished packing your bag, you smiled at him, making your way out of the lecture hall as you responded quietly. “I’m okay, Mark. You’ve gotta get to your internship, no?”

Mark nodded, trailing behind you as you exited the room. “Yeah! But…you know I don’t mind.”

You stopped walking to look at him, smiling with a slightly strained expression. “I know you don’t. But you should get there as early as you can! I remember you told me punctuality for Tony Stark is half an hour early.”

You seemed to always know what Mark needed at that moment even when you didn't really know, and right now it was to wallow in self-pity completely alone. “Alright…I’ll go then. I’ll text you later, yeah?” He said a little breathless, adjusting his glasses as he forced a smile. “Bye, Y/n!”

You smiled as he started to trot away, waving weakly at his retreating figure. “Bye, Mark…”

Mark walked quietly with his head down and hands in his pockets as he made quick work to find the nearest rooftop. It was a swing of shame to Stark Industries, where he mindlessly clocked in, barely processing anything that was happening.

The incident was like an embarrassing moment that wouldn’t stop playing in his head. Except this wasn’t just embarrassing. It was catastrophic. The whole point of the poem was so he could confess quickly, the same week even. Sure, he wasn’t prepared for it to be this morning, but it was supposed to be soon. And well, now there was no way in hell he could just tell you he panicked and lied. The thought of him exposing how much of a loser he still is to you made him feel even more nauseous.

Each second felt sour when he remembered it was a second more that you were out in the world with absolutely no commitment to him. It felt even worse when he shuddered just imagining the guy who came from God knows where from your group project could be loitering around you, and-

It went without saying that his performance was affected, his detached and almost shell-shocked demeanor leading to one of his supervisor’s grabbing him by the shoulder, telling him to go home for the day. Mark hadn’t even realized he was seconds away from mixing two chemicals whose compounds could certainly create a mixture that wasn't exactly safe.

It was another swing of shame all the way to his apartment. Thankfully he didn’t have another class that day, because it wouldn’t have gotten his full attention anyway.

It was around two PM when he landed at his apartments, his tail between his legs as he unlocked his door, only for it to be opened by Doyoung who peeked his head around the door. “Oh, Hi Mark!” Doyoung said with an empathetic smile as he stood aside, letting a deflated Mark inside their home as he checked his watch. “You’re early…I’m about to go to work.”

Mark let out a breath he didn’t know he was holding and leaned on the counter pouring a large glass of water. “Yeah, got sent home early…just off my game.”

Doyoung, who was originally about to slip on his shoes and leave, had a look of understanding as he locked the front door, cautiously approaching Mark as he gulped down the glass of water until it was empty. “Oh…is this about...?” Doyoung questioned, his approach tense as if he was stepping through a field of landmines.

Mark used the back of his hand to wipe his mouth, nodding discouragedly as he gazed at his shoes, not wanting to look up. “I’m assuming Johnny told you. And you heard this morning.”

Doyoung sighed and smiled, nodding softly. “Johnny told almost everyone by now. I also heard you this morning…and last night…you tend to recite what you’ve written out loud. Walls are pretty thin…” Doyoung explained softly, his hand scratching the back of his neck.

Mark’s face dropped in his hands in his shame, asking himself why he hadn’t expected this. Doyoung was a comforting presence as Mark found it in him to face him, shaking his head. “How bad was it?”

Doyoung grinned, the type of grin you give someone when you’re trying to indirectly say ‘bless your heart.’ After some contemplation, he spoke up. “It wasn't very good…” He admitted through his teeth, a silence enveloping them both as Doyoung waved his hands. “But nothing that can’t be fixed, right?”

Mark looked at Doyoung with hopeless eyes, like he was out of options even if he had in actuality only attempted once. “I don’t think I can…”

Doyoung shook his head, standing across from Mark in the kitchen. “Look, maybe the poem was just too much. It was nice, just…gotta be something that comes more naturally. You’ve just gotta think of what that is!”

Mark felt like he had heard that idea, internalized that idea, for years and years, and it never seemed to work for him. With just one failure on his belt, it still felt like it was hundreds. “I don’t know, Doyoung…I don’t even want to try right now. I can’t think of what that could be.”

Doyoung had a pensive look, nearly grabbing his chin as he got straight to trying to think for Mark. Doyoung had always been one of the sweetest of his friends, and it was moments like these that proved that. Moments later, Doyoung had an epiphany. “Ah! She joins you on your comms system or whatever when you go out on patrol as…you know who, right?” Doyoung asked. Mark always found it endearing that even though they had found out long ago, his friends always were concerned of even connecting Mark as Spiderman out loud.

Mark nodded, waiting for Doyoung to follow up with his idea. “Well, when she’s on one night…What if you…Leave something on the webs for her to see? Can you do that? Draw an ‘I,’ a heart, and then ‘U.’ That’s easy for you to do, and once you do it, you can’t back out!” Doyoung suggested with a smile, proud of the cheesy idea he had come up with.

That was Mark’s initial thought, that it was extremely cheesy. However, the more he thought about it, the more appealing it was. Mark’s written things in webs before so that wouldn’t be an issue, and once he did, he couldn’t exactly panic and destroy it. He couldn’t lie either, as you were the only girl in his life that knew he was Spiderman. He pondered it before looking up at Doyoung with his face growing more convinced. “You think so?”

Doyoung beamed at him with a smile as he nodded excitedly. “Definitely, I think that’s romantic! Easy to get the point across.”

Mark almost smiled to himself, thinking it was a foolproof plan. Then it hit him he thought the same with the poem, and that had turned into a disaster. As easy as it sounded, surely there was still a way for him to mess it up. His head leaned back as he stared up at the ceiling. “I dunno, Doyoung…I don’t have much faith in myself.”

Doyoung took a deep breath, watching the distressed Mark and carefully choosing his words. “I don’t know what exactly Johnny told you, but in my opinion. I think you have very good odds. We haven’t known Y/n as long as we’ve known you, but it’s been forever.” Doyoung pondered, smiling softly at the memories. “We all see how she looks at you. How you look at each other. I think no matter what, nothing will change in that.”

Mark stayed silent for a moment, nodding as he pushed away from the counter, running his hand through his hair. “I’ll think about it…you’re all right. I’ve just gotta do it already. And…I like the web thing.”

Doyoung grinned, his eyes bright as he agreed with Mark. “It’s creative! I think Y/nnie will like it!” He chimed, slowly returning back to the front door. “You shouldn’t stress so much, I can guarantee it will all work out.”

Mark smiled, his breaths slowing after working overtime the whole day. “Thanks, Doyoung.”

Doyoung started slipping on his shoes, swatting away Mark’s appreciation as if it wasn't necessary. “Of course, Mark. You’ll get there soon, I know it.” He said with a smile, standing up straight with a growing look of curiosity in his face. “Actually, about the webs…you never tell us how you…make them. Like…where they come out of.”

Mark grabbed his things and trudged to his room, the tips of his ears hot. “It’s a lot right now, Doyoung.”

　. 　˚ ✭　 * ✦　. ‧₊˚🕷‧₊˚　.　✦　˚ .˚　 ✭　.

Wednesday, 8:07AM

Me: yunjin!! you won’t believe what I just found in his room

Yunjin: ?????????

Me: a poem! i’ll send a pic because it’s……

Me: [attachment.img]

Yunjin: WOAH??? IS IT FOR YOU

Me: you won’t believe this even more

Yunjin: oh God

Me: i THOUGHT it was for me, because when he saw me reading it he got SUPER nervous but when i asked him who he wrote it for he very quickly told me “i didn’t write it!!” and proceeded to swear up and down it was from a secret admirer? in his coding class? and he found it on his desk?

Yunjin: …..

Yunjin: Don’t tell me you believe that.

Me: not one bit

Wednesday, 2:56PM

Mark ♡: Hi Y/n!! :D No need to join me in comms tonight, I’m swamped with chem ;(

Me: do you need my notes?

Mark ♡: Please!!! I was not paying attention today!!!

Me: [attachment.imgs]

Me: i saw, why were you more out of it than usual?

Mark ♡: Just tired!

Mark ♡: Anyways, join me tomorrow? I have a surprise for you!!!

Me: yeah i can join you tomorrow

Mark ♡: Yay :D be there or be square

Me: and nobody wants to be a square •ᴗ•

Mark ♡: •ᴗ•

. 　˚ ✭　 * ✦　. ‧₊˚🕷‧₊˚　.　✦　˚ .˚　 ✭　.

“They call it the Stark Industries Junk Drawer.”

The basement located with 6 large and brooding men was dark and damp, smelling of mildew. No one looked happy to be there, yet they all sat intrigued and focused on the one man sitting in the middle of them. He looked the smallest of the bunch, yet the most maniacal, his eyes under the old scar on his forehead holding an anger in them.

“It’s where Stark throws all his ‘scraps.’ Or at least, what a rich man considers scraps.” The man said, a scoff at the end.

“Think about every project he’s ever done. From that arc reactor to his first ever suit. The vibranium shit he invented, elements from other planets, technology you can’t even fathom. There’s pieces of everything in there.”

He stood up, his hands clenched together. “Even just metal, the strongest kind that isn’t even on the market. All of that’s trash to him. To Stark Industries. Do you know what one bucket of that stuff can mean to us?”

The man continued his speech, one of the men in the room lighting a cigarette. “We’ll never worry about money again. I can scavenge everything useful, use it to make weapons that’ll go for thousands. Even what can’t be used will still go for money on the market.”

One of the men, wearing an unsure look sighed and spoke up. “So, we’re picking at bare bones? Like dogs?”

“Don’t we do that already?!” The man spat back. “Besides, their bones are the rest of the world’s diamonds. I’ve seen it with my own eyes.”

The man walked to a table with a blanket spread over it. “I used to work there. Well, I was a scientist. Until Tony Stark decided I couldn’t keep up.” The man said with a venom, looking back at the rest of them. “Then they moved me to the Junk Drawer. Doing janitor's work.”

He walked around the table, standing behind it. “Before I left, I managed to steal 2.3 kilograms of scrap. With just that, I made this.”

The man tore off the sheet, revealing a weapon made of shiny metal, with several beaming blue buttons. “The destruction this thing could cause is no joke, and I know several people who would pay top dollar.”

The other men in the room gawked at the revealed weapon as the man moved to roll in a chalk board, filled with pinned papers, sketches, headshots, and everything needed for a heist. “The plan is to load up one moving truck. It should be fairly easy for it being a Stark facility. I remember entry points and where the best junk is, moving in should be no problem.” He sighed as he turned to the board, pointing at a masked headshot. “The only problem is Spiderman.”

“The avengers little pet. He swings by there at different times on different days, like some sort of hound dog. I’ve been watching him for weeks, there’s no solid pattern. The only option is a diversion.”

One of the men shifted in his seat a bit uneasy, sucking on his teeth before talking. “Scar…A diversion for Spiderman? The guy’s practically an Avenger.”

The man standing at the board, now known as Scar, chuckled to himself. “Yeah, I thought the same, but at the end of the day, he’s just a man under there.”

“And I think I know exactly how to distract him. There’s an apartment he visits frequently, on the quieter side of town.”

“I think Spiderman’s got himself a little girlfriend.”

The room was quiet, only filled with the tension between glances that they gave each other. “You wanna kidnap a girl?”

Scar waved it off, looking back at his board. “We ain’t gonna kill her, not if he complies. Just get his eyes off the Junk Drawer, that’s all. We do this, and we get all that tech in our hands. We do this, and I prove those sons of bitches at Stark Industries that I’m just as capable.”

“This will be way too easy.”

. 　˚ ✭　 * ✦　. ‧₊˚🕷‧₊˚　.　✦　˚ .˚　 ✭　.

Mark swears he had never been so busy on a Thursday night.

His busiest times were always Friday and Saturday nights. Those were a no-brainer, since the city was sardine-packed with people enjoying their weekends and getting up to no good in the process. Every other day of the week was pretty tame. Sure, there’d be the occasional wannabe supervillain he’d have to put in his place, but that was really it.

However, tonight he helped chase down a bank robber, brought him back to the police, helped the police catch a running fugitive in a stolen car, witnessed a 6 car pile up and stopped a bus from driving off a bridge, and saved not one, not two, but three cats from trees.

It seemed there was trouble for him to round up the second he left his house. You had joined him on comms soon after, and had been directing him, providing whatever coordinates he asked of you and helping him strategize as needed.

He had been so busy, by the time everything died down, he didn’t remember what he had to do. Only when heard you humming on the other side of the live feed, was he brought back to his senses.

Mark was hanging on a streetlight, catching his breath as heard your voice. His greatest relief when you found out he was Spiderman when you were in high school wasn’t just that he wasn’t keeping his biggest secret from you anymore, but when you suggested making a communication system so you could accompany him, he realized he didn’t have to be lonely on these patrols anymore.

Sure, you weren’t joining him for every single patrol, but each time you were there, he felt more at ease. He smiled to himself as he heard you, pressing a few buttons to turn on your camera to be visible in his “hud”, the hologram in his mask, finding you sitting at your desk in front of your monitor and annotating your textbook. “Whatcha doing?”

You looked up, tilting your head as you looked at the monitor, smiling to yourself as you saw the red dot signifying that he was watching, and seeing his view upside down. “Studying. You’ve been up and around the past hour.”

Mark groaned as he went to move, not because he was tired, but because he didn’t want to stop looking at you. “Ugh, I know. That has to be a record or something.” He said as he swung to land on the pole, surveying the city around him. “I was so busy I didn’t tell you my spider joke!”

You rolled your eyes playfully as you shut your textbook. Mark had a habit of telling you a different joke about spiders or webs each time you joined him. “Let’s hear it then.”

“What’s a spider's favorite day of the week?”

“What?”

“Websday.”

You sighed, shaking your head. “Stupid,” you said, contrary to the smile on your face.

Mark laughed, shooting a web as he started to leisurely swing around, keeping an eye on the streets of New York. “You laughed!”

Reluctantly, Mark turned off the live feed. As much as he wanted to keep watching you, he’s learned from past experience it's never a good idea to swing while multitasking. “Hey, did you see when I webbed up that bus? I did that really fast. Like, I swear I had time to spare, I could’ve striked a pose or something.” He shouted through the night, a little breathless at his movements.

“I think it’s time that you try the unassisted aim. You don’t depend on the automatic web aim a lot, but you haven’t gone completely without it.” You suggested.

“Yeah, sure! Why not? Let’s do it now!” Mark agreed. He had barely processed what you had said in actuality, something about his aim. When you spoke to him in that soft, honey-like voice, he would agree to anything.

“You said it, not me!” You confirmed, already clicking away at buttons. “I can make the change from here, Ready?”

Mark landed perched on a random rooftop, looking at the skyline. “Mhm!”

After a few more clicks, you spoke again, curiosity in your voice. “I did it, Try it out and see.”

Mark looked down at his web shooters, they looked the same, the only difference being a little icon in the hud his mask changing from A to U. “Hm…here goes I guess.”

Mark shot out with his right hand, intending to hit the building across from him, but finding he failed miserably when he flailed in the air, instead clinging on a window much lower. “Woah, woah, woah, woah!” He panicked, swinging from the window and managing to find another point that wouldn’t send him to the ground. “This feels weird!” He screamed.

You looked at the sight anxiously, your hands at your face and eyes wide as you watched him fumble from building to building. “Mark…Jesus, please don’t fall. Should I turn it back on!?”

He tried to pull himself together, reminding himself that you seeing him splat on the ground would be more than humiliating. “No, no! I got this!” He said out of breath, his adrenaline pumping.

After a few more seconds, he found that somewhat of a rhythm, and when he could, rolled onto the roof of another building stopping his momentum on the ledge as he dropped down flat on his back. “Oh my god! That…it's like riding a bike with no training wheels!"

You let out a deep sigh as his feet safely found the floor. “I don’t think it’s time to turn it off yet…”

Mark waved away at your comment, standing back up and grabbing his pounding heart. “I got it, I swear!” Mark promised, ignoring your other remarks as he shot off this building once more.

He spent the next minutes, weaving in and out of buildings, shooting a web and barely making it, or missing and having to redirect his swing, all while you bit your nails as you watched. He hadn’t fallen or crashed into anything yet, his flow getting steadier as he grew accustomed to it. That is, until he turned the corner and found himself lunging towards a building that he didn’t count on being there.

He could hear you yell his name from comms, as he swung on a street lamp, that had it not been there, Mark surely would have slammed right into the building.

His save might have been clean, but his fall wasn’t. He landed feet planted on the sidewalk stumbling around trying to recover from whiplash. “Sorry! Sorry! Totally my fault!” He stammered as he lowered his head in apology to the pedestrians around him, shooting a web up to flee the scene as fast as he could.

When the noise of the confused pedestrians faded into oblivion, it was replaced by the sweet sound of your laughter. Which in turn made Mark chuckle under his breath himself. “That wasn’t funny!” He scolded, landing on another ledge with his head in his hands.

You kept laughing, the sound going straight to his heart. “I told you we should turn aim assist back on!”

He shook his head, sighing with his arms resting on his knees now. “Nah. Despite that…error, it’s getting easier! I definitely scared the shit out of that couple though.” He murmured. His eyes zeroed in on a couple who he had landed right in front of.

He watched as they walked away, his narrowing eyes looking at one thing only, their joint hands that found each other again, and walked away together. For some very unknown reason, he remembered what it was that he had set to do today.

The web confession.

He shot up quickly, already swinging before he started talking to you. “I forgot, I’ve got a surprise for you!” He exclaimed, making swift work of moving to your apartment that wasn’t too far away. The faster he moved, the less time he had to think about it. The less likely he was to chicken out. Mark figured if he got in a laminar flow of webbing and slinging, where he moved smoothly and orderly without giving any thought, he wouldn’t even be able to break himself out of it.

You watched as he picked up his pace like he was frantic. Your head tilting as he kept moving towards your direction. “Are you coming towards me?”

Mark huffed as he moved faster, “Yeah! I’ll be there soon!”

You sighed with a pursed smile at his impulsivity. “You can’t stay long, remember? Someone we know could see you.”

Mark shot a web higher and farther than his previous ones, sending him in a hurling flip into the sky. “Won’t take long, I promise! After that I can hang it up for the night.”

You stared at your monitors, endearment on your face turning to epiphany. “You’ve still gotta go to the junk drawer, you didn’t get to earlier!”

Mark groaned as he took a break on top of a moving truck. “Damn it. I completely forgot! Mr. Stark’s gonna be pissed for sure.” Mark didn’t hesitate in flinging himself back into the night. “I’ll be quick! I’m like a minute away.”

All Mark could think as he launched himself your way was how dire his situation was. There was no later, there was no time in between that, it had to be now. His heart rate was fast but masked by his stamina working overtime as he jumped from building to building. It was hardly feasible to him that he was in a hurry to do what he had dreaded doing for a while.

He turned the corner, your apartment in less than half a mile away, and he swears he’s never experienced a bone chilling fear so piercing. “Come to your window!”

“Going.” You said cheerfully, your voice making his nerves run even more rampant. Mark heard a shuffle as you stepped away from the monitor to stand perched at your window. There really was no backing out now. He couldn’t even begin to think of any sort of excuse he could spout if he did.

He took a couple of heavy huffs and puffs as he saw the last stretch, calling out to you once more before he got to work. “I’m gonna write something with webs! Give me a sec!”

As he got to your apartment, he saw the image of you perched against your window, adjusting a headset as you brushed strands of soft hair out of the way. His heart hammered, and he wondered how you could have no idea how you looked in his eyes, and he never wanted to show you so badly.

Mark heard your reply, but he was already in action, trying to calculate where he had to shoot each web between buildings to make a circumference for him to work in, the action much more difficult without aim assist.

He shot with his right hand, he needed to tell you. He shot with his left, he’s never had you in the way he wants. He twisted his body, reaching out to shoot a web behind him, he won’t let anyone else get the chance before him.

When he was finished, his head was reeling, and he could hear his heartbeat in his ears. Not because he was tired, not at all. The adrenaline since he remembered about this stunt kept him from feeling fatigued. He just couldn’t stop looking at you as he hung off of the building opposite of yours, watching as you looked at him curiously.

“Alright, read it.” He said softly. Mark studied your every move as he held his breath. Your big eyes as you turned from him to the webs. This was it, wasn’t it? The moment he imagined over and over and over in his head. The one that would come naturally. The one that would be easy. The only thought in his mind is that you were right. It was overdue, long overdue, and he could only swallow anxiously as he waited for realization to set in. Finally, things between the two of you would be how he always felt they were supposed to be-

Mark jolted when his suit connected involuntarily to a channel he knew all too well from his rookie Spiderman days.

“Hey, Mark. What are you up to?” A familiar booming voice said, and Mark nearly fumbled his way down the building as a not-very-pleased Tony Stark was seen in his hud. “Security at Junk Drawer said you haven’t swung by.”

Mark jumped up to land on his feet, panicked as his heart sank for a different reason. “M…Mr. Stark! Yeah, sorry I got caught up! I was…patrolling, you know?” Mark stammered, leaving out the part that he had spent the last better part of an hour fooling around with you. “I um…I saved a bus…?” Mark said weakly, looking over at you and seeing how you were staring straight at him, listening to this confrontation.

“Huh, How noble.” Stark said, clicking his tongue, “Listen kid, you were scheduled for earlier today, I only ask for this one thing. Just do your rounds, alright? I don’t like making these calls, it's like telling my kid to brush his teeth before bed.”

Mark nodded as if Stark was looking at him, his dread evident. “I’m on it! I’ll be there asap!”

“Good,” Is the last thing Mark heard him say as the connection was cut, and a terrified Mark shouted over to you.

“Crap…Y/n! I’ve gotta go! You can log off comms! I’m probably getting chewed up!”

Mark barely heard you telling him to hurry before he was off, going once again way too fast for his recently learned skill of swinging with unassisted aim.

In Mark’s hysteria, he felt a flurry of emotions. The second most prominent being a stone cold fear. The last time he had gotten in trouble with Tony Stark, it kept him up for days. But despite the ugly feeling he got from hurling himself to meet his upset mentor, there was one even uglier.

The most prominent was frustration. He should’ve been with you, watching the way the light shone off your eyes as he confessed to you. Mark should have been slinging towards you, confirming all of your suspicions, getting an answer he needed to know for his soul.

Mark groaned into the night, shaking himself off. His masterpiece was there, he only had to count on the fact that you would read the webs. When tomorrow came, and he saw you for O-chem again, he could answer all of your burning questions with complete honesty.

First, Mark had to go through Tony Stark, though.

. 　˚ ✭　 * ✦　. ‧₊˚🕷‧₊˚　.　✦　˚ .˚　 ✭　.

The following day, you sat in your O-chem class, diligently taking notes. Of course, Mark is right next to you.

It had been 2 days since you read the poem from the alleged “secret admirer”, and all of your curiosities remained unanswered. You kept reading it over and over, (maybe a few times imagining it being about you), and it made less sense that a secret admirer would write something so heartfelt for someone they likely had not gotten to know yet each time you read it.

You and Yunjin had clearly ruled out that it wasn’t from a secret admirer. Yunjin was 100% convinced it had to be for you, especially when taking into account how awkward and clammy he was for a few hours after, but you still weren’t sure. It seemed too good to be true. One slightest mention of a guy surely wouldn’t have caused him to act that fast, would it?

You decided to sleep on it, wanting to study Mark a bit more before he brought it up again. To see if he was acting happier than usual, sadder than usual, or maybe weirder than usual.

Mark was definitely leaning towards that last one, and it was made clear by the web stunt he had pulled yesterday that somehow left you with even more questions. However, as you looked over to him, you found him utilizing several of the colored pens you had to stay organized, seemingly taking notes. At least he looked less distraught than he was in the last class.

Meanwhile, Mark’s leg wouldn’t stop tapping under the table. Long story short, he never made it back to you last night after he was roped into a lecture disguised as going for some drive thru burgers. The food was good, the fatherly conversation wasn’t though. Considering that Mr. Stark always thought the junk drawer would be vulnerable if anyone with ill intentions found out about it.

All that to say that he hadn’t gotten to talk to you about his web-memo. So, yet again, if your proximity didn’t make it bad already, he was having a hard time focusing.

Mark did try to take notes, considering that the professor was in the process of going over important general properties that would be on their next test. However, he didn’t make it far before he started doodling, something that Mark tends to do out of bad habit when he can’t concentrate. It also just so happened to be that your colorful stationery was right there.

In the midst of drawing what he thinks would’ve been a fabulous Hulk, Mark felt a tug on his paper, causing your green pen to slide off it. When he turned to look your way, his face reddened as he saw you inspecting his paper and going to write something.

Mark watched the conversation unfold, both heartwarming and heart clenching at the same time. He panicked a bit, wondering if this important conversation was really about to go down through passing notes like school-kids. That is, until he saw your reply that it said nothing. True worry set in as he asked you to draw what it looked like, and seeing what you had thought it was, and it was nothing close to his intention.

Stupid unassisted aim.

Mark had one of two options. He could correct you, draw what it was supposed to say, or he could do what he had done up to this point, and lie. As he picked up the red pen, he took a deep breath. It was a simple drawing, that's all it was. A simple drawing to open the door to not-so-simple feelings.

In Mark's defense, it wasn't a total lie. 127 sounded like a pretty cool code for something.

. 　˚ ✭　 * ✦　. ‧₊˚🕷‧₊˚　.　✦　˚ .˚　 ✭　.

Okay, Mark kind of knew he was going to back out of that one. Seal the deal in a crowded lecture hall where he had nowhere to run for if the occasion called for it? Yeah, No. He backed out when you had read the poem in his own house, where he could’ve jumped out the window if need be. What was he to do in a lecture hall?

However, he was handling this defeat much better than the first one.

After class had ended, you were both free for the rest of the day. Friday was always calm and mellow compared to the rest of your week, and even though you both were free to do whatever you pleased, it somehow always ended in being doing something together.

O-chem had stretched a bit longer than it usually did, since there was a lab that day that went over class time. You both walked wordlessly, the atmosphere calm as you went through the corridors of NYU. It was a beautiful campus, for a school so prestigious in academics, it matched the same standard in looks.

Mark wouldn’t stop looking at you though, but really, did he ever? His cheeks were hot as he took a deep breath, speaking. “Hey, I know we have that thing with our friends tonight.” He spoke up, his voice soft as he scratched his neck.

You looked over to him with those evil, evil big eyes that always threw him for a loop. “Mhm?”

It was bizarre how every little thing you did affected him. “I’m not feeling very social after the week I’ve had…you wanna just…I don’t know. Meander?” Mark asked, his eyes full of an anxiousness that you would say yes.

Truth was, neither were you. You loved all of your friends dearly, but getting together was always a lot socially. It required you to be present, to exist manually. With just Mark, it never really felt like that, for some reason. It was automatic.

You took a deep breath, a growing grin on your face. “Sure, I’d like that. To meander. You do owe me boba.”

Mark smiled, having no time to feel guilty that he was skipping on a hang out to spend more time with just you. He remembered your notes and the boba he promised. And…the confession that was lost. “I’ll get that to you stat!”

As you both walked out of campus, opting to take the subway so Mark didn’t have to swing, he noticed that he should’ve been freaking out right about now. Since the beginning of the week when he became brutally aware that a clock he thought was waiting for him had always been ticking, he felt nothing short of uneasy. It wasn’t pleasant to say the least, finding out that he couldn’t postpone it anymore. It had him battling within himself, trying to balance finding an effective method to convey his feelings to you, trying to do it as fast as he could, and trying to figure out what it was that kept making him hold it off this much.

He ruled that it was fear of rejection, of course. Who wasn’t terrified of that? He just found it odd that it was with you. You who had never rejected him in anything in life. In his times of need, his times of sadness, his times of happiness, times of insecurities or self doubt. You accepted all of that unconditionally.

To some extent, you had already accepted his love. You didn’t know the deep depths and lengthy lengths behind it, but you knew the tip of the iceberg was there. Somewhere along the way, perhaps yesterday when he was shoveling a burger down his throat with Mr. Stark, or as he sat at the top of one of the tallest office buildings, just looking down at his city below him, he realized that even if you didn’t reciprocate it, you would accept it.

The thought calmed him down, but even then he wasn’t able to follow through with the web plan. Despite this second strike, he was still walking side by side with you, laughing and quipping with each other as you wandered through the streets of New York. He wasn’t questioning every life choice, degrading himself with all sorts of names for not being able to follow through.

Perhaps it was stupidity or pure denial, but as his thoughts came to a still-mate, functioning as harmoniously as they can, he knew there would be a next time. And, when that time came, it would feel right, never forced like his last two felt.

Who knows, they say the third time's the charm. Perhaps the next one would be it. If it wasn’t, he’d try a 4th, and then a 5th, a 10th, a 20th, a 50th, however many he needed to. However many tries it took him to get you to understand that simple moments like this, sipping bubble tea and walking through central park, he hoped there would be infinitely more.

That is how the day was spent. After getting your promised boba and a stroll through the park, the both of you ended up getting carried away. Running in and out of department stores, shopping malls, finding a photobooth with a Spiderman frame and getting way too excited, stopping by both of your favorite comic book stores, stopping by the lego store on 5th avenue that two grown adults shouldn’t be so ecstatic in, and ending the day with a sub from Mark’s favorite deli.

The day passes by faster when you’re having fun, especially with someone you love. Even through all of those activities, it was evident you both would prefer it over a big group setting.

Everyone has their limits, however. As the sun had long set, you and Mark stood at the subway station, watching the train that takes you both home come to a stop. Mark wanted to swing home, but you urged him to take a break and give his body a rest. It was clamor to get on, Mark holding your wrist firmly as everyone was rushing to reach their homes, but miraculously he found a seat, grabbing your shoulders and sitting you down as he held the railing above you.

You giggled as you sat down, looking up at him, his hair messy on his head. “Do you wish we took the other way home now?” Mark asked, a displeased pout on his face.

You shook your head, your hands resting in your lap as he looked down on you, wanting to reach out and touch you so bad. “Nope. I think we’re good.” You answered, your eyes heavy as the train began to move. “Do you mind if I take a nap?”

Mark grinned, reaching out to hold your bag for you. “Be my guest. I’ll protect you as you sleep.”

You rolled your eyes at his dramatics, resting your head back. “Dork.” You muttered, your eyes fluttering shut.

Mark’s brain was fuzzy, a common occurrence with you. He took this as an opportunity to stare at you as much as he liked. With your eyes closed and an order to protect you, it was his job to look. He traced your face in his mind. Your eyes, the way your eyelashes fluttered, the bridge of your nose, the lips he’s always wanted to kiss, adorned with a small smile of a day well spent. It wasn’t often that he got to shamelessly drink all of you like this, so he couldn’t help but obsess in every small detail.

That is, until your head started to tilt to the side as sleep started to take over. It was headed to the pole next to you, and his ‘Mark tingle’ wasted no time in reaching out with your bag in his grasp, holding it out like a pillow of sorts. Your head fell onto it as expected, and now, well he just had to keep his hand there.

It’s not like he minded. He’d hold it up so you can sleep for the rest of time if that’s what you needed. Besides, it allowed him to inch just that much closer. Mark silently prayed the train never reached its destination.

Mark’s prayers went unanswered as it came to your stop, and he tapped your shoulder to jostle you awake. “Y/n, we’re up.” Mark alerted softly, pulling his hand away as you straightened awake before you could process what he had done.

You shot to your feet, sleep still in your eyes as the subway doors opened, and Mark guided you out. Mark smiled the whole way, teasing and giggling at your little nap. He walked you to your apartment, taking you all the way up to your floor. He had the nagging feeling all day that this day felt different. There was always some that felt like this, like he had you and you had him in the way he yearns for.

As Mark played the role of your own personal escort, his heart clenched and clenched. He wondered what every day would be like if it felt like this. Would the sun shine brighter? Will the cars honk less? Will the lenses of his glasses never get foggy again? He can only imagine, more accurately, only dream.

They could. They could be like that every day. He could feel this warmth throughout his whole being if he just…

“Y/n.” Mark blurted, as you stood in front of your door, fishing for your keys in your pocket.

You turned around and were hit with that face. That face that he didn’t let you see often, but the one that always lingered, the one you would replay time after time. “Hm?’ You questioned, turning your body to face him, his lips parted as if in disbelief.

Mark swallowed, trying to swallow back his speechlessness. What does he even say? What does one say to a woman they see every time they close their eyes?

Mark took a deep breath, his fists clenched.

“Get some rest, okay? You…you work too hard.”

Something told you that isn’t what he wanted to say, the phrase not matching with the expression you couldn’t break down on his face. Yet, you smiled, nodding as you pulled out your keys. “You too, you should get rest too. I’ll talk to you tomorrow, for your patrol.”

Mark was holding his breath. “Yeah. Tomorrow.”

He only watched as you opened your door, waving him a goodbye.

Not yet. Maybe not today. Maybe not tomorrow. But soon. When the time called for it.

. 　˚ ✭　 * ✦　. ‧₊˚🕷‧₊˚　.　✦　˚ .˚�� ✭　.

chapter 1

chapter 3

#nct 127 fanfic #mark lee x reader #mark lee fluff #mark lee smut #spidermark x reader #spidermark #nct 127 x reader #nct x reader #mark lee

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dearlyd3parted · 3 months ago

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🕸️syp: Mark Lee is many things; A 2nd year college student, A stressed Stark Industries intern, Your friendly neighborhood Spiderman, and also your childhood friend. He's also a secret fifth thing, a loser hopeless romantic who's been in love with you for years. Due to his inexperience, it takes him two failed attempts at a confession until the third is finally a charm. 🕸️mark lee x fem!reader - (127 centered) biggest idiots in love u will ever read 🕸️feat: a bit of nct dream, xiaojun from wayv, and yunjin from lsrfm cause mother 🕸️word count: total 26.2k 🕸️warnings: some profanity (mark is very stressed ok), descriptions of injuries (blood, cuts, bruises), light angst, mostly just misunderstandings and such, brief mention of smoking, eventual smut 🕸️authors note: ok i genuinely had so much fun writing this one i love mark so much and i live to push the spidermark agenda. i don't follow any exact mcu plot. just inspired more heavily by tom holland cinmenatic universe! also he has glasses in this fic, i know canonically spiderman has perfect vision but idc i have a nerd agenda to push ;p i've only proofread once, so pls bear with any typos. to my current followers who were waiting on me to post, i spent a lot of time on this one so that is why content is delayed, but i hope it makes up for it! im doing more piwon next! i really like this one and hope u do too. pls reblog and like and follow for more ദ്ദി(˵ •̀ ᴗ - ˵ ) ✧ 🕸️chapter index: chapter 1 chapter 2 chapter 3 tags🏷:

𝙲𝚑𝚊𝚙𝚝𝚎𝚛 𝟷: 𝙵𝚛𝚎𝚎 𝚟𝚎𝚛𝚜𝚎 𝚙𝚘𝚎𝚝𝚛𝚢 - wc: 8.3k

Mark Lee has always been sure of his identity.

It seems that since birth he has had a very firm grasp on himself, what his personality is like, what he wanted in his future, what he wanted in the very moment. Mark has never been a mystery to him.

When he was in the 6th grade, he knew he was a buzzing personality. He knew he was a jokester, always smiling, always laughing, even when the moment didn't call for it. He knew that he loved to talk about anything, really. He could spend hours talking an unsuspecting classmate's ear off about his favorite subjects (math and english, never science), the video game he just played, or some cool new thing one of his favorite superheroes did.

However, because of his...as one would put it in kind terms, passion for life and anything that excited him slightly, he had a hard time making friends. Sure, he had some, the same handful of guys who had been perpetually stuck with each other since elementary school, but making new ones was the problem.

It was at that point that Mark realized he is also a people pleaser from time to time. Especially at 12 years old when everyone is dying to fit in. So, in order to get some of his peers to find him...not annoying, he tried to mimic their personalities.

Mark amped up the snarky-ness and the sassiness, changed his look to what could best replicate what was popular at the time, and started talking about Tony Stark maybe 30% less (That really was the best he could do).

And surprisingly....it worked. For a bit there, he was thinking he might slowly climb his way up from whimsical nerd to just some dude. God, he wanted to be just some dude so badly.

Then one day he saw you.

You sat alone on the end of a lunch table, a pizza lunchable in front of you as you clicked away on your DSI, seemingly playing...Pokémon? Of course, adorned with a Star Wars backpack sat right next to you. He shuddered a bit at the sight, but not negatively. He just really wished that was him instead of what he was currently doing, trailing behind the kids who play basketball after school with an immense 'cool kid' vibe to them.

Mark took immediate note at how they snickered at you, the word nerd being thrown around being most obviously about you. As he gripped onto his tray, a sly smile masking an internal panic on his face, he figured it was a perfect time to prove himself as he followed his pack leaders.

Mark cleared his throat as he approached you, ready to strike. "Nice backpack, Young Jedi." He snickered, his voice as condescending as he could make it out to be when addressing a really cool backpack.

You paused your game with a swiftness, swiveling around to look at him, not an ounce of offense on your face. Without a beat, your deadbeat expression bounced back.

"Nice bowl cut, loser.”

Needless to say, Mark didn’t make the cut for just some dude. He would be staying a talkative and giggly nerd for a while, he was sure of that fact about himself. He knew that was him. It was okay, though, because he didn’t want friends who he couldn't be himself around. After that whole facade, he knew he wasn’t the nonchalant cool guy he tried to resonate with.

He also knew that after a thorough and heavy apology his friend Taeyong had made him give you, he had just met someone who he resonated with a lot more.

He knew he was your new friend.

(To which you only agreed because of his Captain America themed backpack. Besides, your jab at his bowl cut that truly was awful made it even.)

A year later, he was certain that you were his best friend. Maybe it was a bit selfish that he had so many best friends, you including his flock of seven other boys who had just become stuck to each other.

But…there was something different about you. Like you were his ultra best friend, if thats a thing. After the initial awkwardness of your first meeting, the friendship only soared. Helping each other with homework, rewatching ‘Star Wars: Revenge of The Sith’ for the 30th time, fangirling over Tony Stark and the avengers. He never thought he would meet a girl that understood him so well, and in turn who he understood, too.

Until the 7th grade, he couldn’t quite place what it was that was so different. You were integrated into his group of friends, he didn’t treat you any differently and you didn’t with him. Yet, for some reason, he was happier when you were around, and even happier when it was only the two of you.

His heart was a mixture of things every time he made a joke and you laughed because of him. It had also dawned on him that even if you and him had your many similarities, you were still more reserved and cautious when it came to other people. Despite that, you seemed comfortable around him, enough to confide in him and share whatever you wanted to.

So, when you confided in him tearfully that the boy you had wanted to attend the spring formal with was going with another girl, as your best friend he decided to step in and take you himself to cheer you up.

Seeing you a bit happier at the outcome of that night, wearing a navy blue dress he remembers oh so vividly as the colorful lights seemed to be illuminating your smile, his heart sank to his stomach. That was when it had hit him what had been so different about you.

Mark knew that he liked you. He liked you terribly.

He knew he liked you as he danced with you, his hands tenaciously at your shoulders as you thanked him with a smile for not letting you come alone. He knew he liked ever since you started to feel ‘different’ in the best way possible, and he knew he would keep liking you for a long, long time.

And that is exactly what he did.

Middle school passed by in a flash, and he never liked you any less. In fact it was impossible to not like you more. You, who was always on his side through all his phases, who brought an extra sandwich from home to share with him at lunch, who gifted him the missing star wars comic in his collection for his birthday, who defended him against all the snickers and teases of the rest of the friend group, who was the cutest girl he would ever be blessed to see, who joined the academic decathlon in highschool so he wouldn’t be alone. How could he not crush on you harder?

Just because he liked you so much, didn’t mean that he rushed to act on it. Quite honestly, when he first realized all these feelings were heavy to hold and the only way to let go of them was to confess, he had a nervous breakdown. What would he even say? What would you say? How would he even explain this to you? You were always so headstrong and focused, would a measly schoolboy crush even appeal to you? Was this the end of the world?

Once he calmed down, however, he realized that there was no rush to explain the feelings he himself couldn’t even muster to say aloud. All that mattered is that you were in his life, and he was in yours. And he was pretty damn content with that. Maybe in the future, if he still felt so much and he had gotten much more confident, he’ll be able to tell you. At the moment, 15-year-old and sophomore in highschool Mark had no rush at all.

And then, he was bit by a spider.

Of course, it wasn’t a normal spider. Because god forbid anything ever be normal in Mark’s life. One morning, he woke up with body muscle his lanky limbs did not have when he went to sleep and a strength that broke his desk bunk bed in half. If it wasn’t obvious something was off, his glasses stuck on his hand for the better part of an hour sure confirmed it.

Yup, Mark knew it. He had turned into some sort of a Spiderman.

At least, that’s what he called it. It’s what he decided to go by when a very confused passerby asked him who he was as Mark saved his bike from a thief. A quick sew of some blue and red fabric with a poorly stitched on symbol, and he was putting these powers to test.

He had a good run making a name for himself on Youtube under this ‘Spiderman’ pseudonym. It was a blissful first few months, figuring out the basics of his powers, slamming into the wall maybe only a handful of times, fighting neighborhood crime in a heroic way that he used to only be able to gawk at the avengers doing.

However, ignorance is bliss. Mark couldn’t possibly be ignorant to the way that he was making enemies who didn’t like the interference with their crimes all over queens, and fast. He especially couldn’t ignore it when a particular petty group of criminals had hit rookie Spiderman with everything they had, and the bliss ended as he limped away his first gruesome fight he had managed to win with his life.

As he dragged his way across the city, whimpering and crying as the universe decided to make his first terrible day on the job even worse with rain, he was aware of how roughed up he was, he needed help.

He couldn’t just go to his Aunt and tell her her 15 year old nephew had been putting his life in danger for the last few months. He couldn’t go to the hospital and risk exposing the identity he tried so hard to protect. He certainly couldn’t let his rowdy friends know by showing up to Taeyong’s apartment.

So he found himself barely making it up to your fire escape, knocking with the last bit of strength he had to get your attention from your Calculus homework to his figure in the window. He was limp and a mess of “i’m sorry”’s and “i don’t know where to go”’s as you pulled him in, speechless at the sight in front of you.

You didn’t get angry, you weren’t annoyed, you didn’t ask him a million questions. You only bandaged his wounds, and offered open arms as he cried and cried until he couldn’t anymore.

As Spiderman Mark gripped your hoodie, his tears staining it with salt, he knew he felt safe. God, he always did with you.

He knew that he loved you. Because honestly, wasn’t it impossible not to?

The revelation that he was in love with you didn’t come with much shock, if he asked 6th grade Mark if he knew this day would come, the answer would without any doubt be a yes.

It did come at a turning point in his life, however. He met Tony Stark, got suited up with Stark Industry gear that made every nerd crevice in his mind vibrate, fought with the avengers, nearly joined the avengers, accidentally revealed himself to his aunt, and then his other 7 friends, fought against avenger-level-threat villains, and quickly rose as one of the most famous heroes around.

Throughout everything, he never loved you any less. And even through his trials and tribulations as he settled in this neighborhood Spiderman identity, you never strayed from being his best friend. He didn’t need anything else to feel like the luckiest man in the world.

Except, maybe an answer to the dying question he wanted to know for years and years. Was he just your best friend? Or has he always been something more? On the few times you’ve told him something along the lines of, ‘I will never care about anyone like I do about you, Mark’, (And no, he actually didn’t memorize that one word for word) Did it also mean what he has always meant, or was he just dear to you in the friendliest way possible?

Although Mark was older, 18 years old and graduating from highschool, he still had that same mindset he had as an angsty new teenager. His feelings for you only weighed more and more in tons and tons over the years, especially since he was able to name it as love. Yet, he found it hard to explain why he still hadn’t felt any rush to act on them.

It wasn’t that he didn’t want to, even if anyone who would hear his logic might think it was. As he watched you say goodbye to peers and friends at graduation from a distance, happiest as ever in your cap and gown as you were set to attend MIT with him in the fall, he knew it wasn’t because he didn’t want to. He dreamt of it some nights, actually. He hadn’t known you his whole life, but for some reason, it felt like you were always there. When he had that stupid bowl cut, when he tried out for the soccer team and made a fool of himself, when he got his first B on an english paper, when he got bit by that spider and bit off more than he could chew, when he was applying for college and decided to major in computer science and engineering, you were there.

As you pranced back to him as you finished saying your farewells, he couldn’t help but think it would always be this way. You had him, and he had you. The night you both graduated, you both sat on a rooftop, staring at queens under you as you shared a pizza. Naturally, it felt like you would always be there. You were just natural.

Despite that, It had been nearly seven years since he first met you. Nearly seven years since he told himself he would confess when the time was right, when he was more confident and hopefully a little bigger.

He was definitely taller, and involuntarily grew some muscle. Luckily, his hair hadn’t seen the after effects of a bowl cut in years. His voice didn’t squeak when he talked to you or any girl for that matter, and he liked to think he was 10% less of a nerd. At least, enough to be charming when it counted.

So as you both left highschool for your first year at NYU, he decided he checked a sufficient amount of boxes to go for it. However, it was clearly going to be harder said than done. Just seeing you the night after he made up his mind that the time has finally come, his forehead was slick with nervous sweat and somehow he walked right into a pole. Your questioning about why his ‘Mark tingle’ hadn’t worked–which is what you had named his 6th spider-sense–didn’t help not one bit.

Truth is, it was terrifying. He didn’t know why. He had fought against intergalactic villains and catched runaway trains with his bare hands. Yet a simple ‘I’m madly in love with you’ was too much for him to handle.

Mark composed himself, running it through his mind during every late night patrol. He was going to do it, and soon. First, he had to get over the initial fear. After that, love sparks would fly.

Soon turned into weeks later, then months, and then an entire year. Before Mark could blink, it was the 2nd year of university and the ‘initial’ fear seemed to be a perpetual one.

In his defense, the first year of college was very busy. The both of you were buried in the books, biochemical and computer science engineering not being easy majors, and of course trying to maintain extracurriculars. Mark with his Stark Industries internship, that both was still a pseudonym for Spiderman duties, and this time around an actual internship he had begged Mr. Stark for. You, with the school's Debate team and interning wherever it counted and wherever paid.

Mark would be a liar if he said there was absolutely no time, though. A plus to the both of you being the unassuming and socially awkward nerds all throughout the years meant that you didn’t peak in highschool. University could be a time to blossom, be more social, enjoy the journey a little more, maybe attend a party or two.

Watching you in this beaming light as you entered a new chapter of your life, an enigma shining more than ever, it only intimidated Mark even more. Which is why his after-graduation-confession plans had stretched out a whole year later.

Mark never felt like he was losing you, though. Losing his mind? Most definitely, but not you. You were closer than ever, Mark was content.

Telling himself that he had you on his side through everything, and he would continue to have just that is what helped him sleep at night. He would stop being a coward eventually, and just like the movies, the sun would shine a halo around you, his eyes would meet yours, and he could finally confess. Time, there was lots of it, right?

Wrong. Again, it seemed like Mark’s reality was always perpetually shifting or going the opposite direction that he was aiming for.

Today, he found himself standing outside of one of the many NYU buildings, waiting for your cell biology class to be done with. It had become a habit to him to make sure you got back to your apartment safely after classes that ran into the evening, claiming that as the resident neighborhood spiderman, it was his duty to escort you. Even though in reality, you were capable of getting around just fine, and this was just another excuse for Mark to spend even more time with you.

He was wiping down his glasses when he heard the door open and you walked out, tired out from a full day of classes. He wasted no time putting on his glasses back on, making sure he caught every bit of you. Mark always thought you looked best like this, hair down and tousled in comfy clothes, today a cardigan and some baggy jeans, the night making your features even softer.

You smiled despite your weariness, waving at him, and Mark smiled right back. “Hi, Mark.” you said, walking up to him as you clutched onto your bag.

Mark reached for it, slinging it over his shoulders, the heaviness of textbooks and all your other supplies being nothing to him. “Y/n! How was your day?” He asked enthusiastically.

You stared at him with those eyes you get, sighing as you looked down. “It was alright…I got assigned two group projects, though. I mean, two, seriously? In the first month of school?” You complained and talked with your hands like you always did when you were angry, as you both started walking, Mark listening to every word.

Mark inhaled sharply, making a face at the thought. “Yikes. Two on the same day is some luck. My operating systems professor said we would have a group project soon as well, but at least we get to choose our partners.”

You pouted up at him, finding your situation unfair. “We can’t even have that luxury. I don’t know any of the people I was assigned with.” You complained with a frustrated sigh.

Mark sympathized with you, knowing how unfortunate that must be, but when you looked so expressive and adorable as you complained, it was hard for his heart to stay still in its cage. “That really does sound like it sucks. I hope they aren’t rude or some slackers.”

You shook your head looking off at the city in front of you, when all Mark could do was look at you. “I don’t think they will be too bad. The group project for cell bio, I got this one guy…Xiaojun, I think, for a partner. He seems like he’ll be a big help.”

Mark’s head tilted, his glasses tilting in the process. “Mm, really? How so?”

You looked at Mark with a pursed smile, shrugging at the recollection. “He’s very receptive, first to offer to help with research. Gave me his number so I could call him ‘if anything’, so I gave him mine as well. He’s nice, a little too nice maybe, but nice.”

Mark felt an uncomfortable lump in his throat, he hadn’t heard of you and any other guy in ages. He didn’t want to. As he took in what you had said, recognizing the name of a pretty well-known school heartthrob, exchanging numbers with him, and even the whispered fact of him being too nice, he didn’t like it. Not one bit. Surely it couldn’t be that this Xiaojun was…taking an interest in you?

Mark had to make sure as he forced down the lump that prevented him from speaking. “Ah…so sounds like…he’s flirting with you.”

You both came to a stop at an intersection. You pondered your words as Mark stared at you, reading your every visible thought. “It seems like it. He’s a nice guy but I'm not interested if that is the case…because…” You said, your words trailing off as you looked at Mark with a distant look in your eye and shrugged after a moment. “I guess, I don’t have a reason to not be interested. Should at least hear the guy out, I suppose.”

Mark’s heart sank to the floor in record speeds. And he’s jumped off of buildings. As the light turned from the orange hand to the walking man, he stalled a few seconds, shaking off this new dread as he jogged a little to match your pace. “H-hear him out? So you…you like him?”

You giggled a bit, shaking your head with a smile. “I didn’t say that. I just met the guy. All I’m saying is I’ve always said no, no, no, and no. Maybe it’s time to move…Uh, I mean, to stop saying no so quickly.”

All Mark could process in that sentence is that there were others that you had to say no to. As he looked down at the sidewalk he was strolling on, his world view seemed to crack a bit. He had always known how amazing you were. Your eyes an ocean he wanted to sail. Your hair framing you in the most flattering way. Your sarcasm and humor that brightens his day. Your drive. Your kindness. Your intelligence. Your generosity. Should he keep going? He could, he could spend days listing everything that was right in you. It had just never dawned on him that other hormonal and sappy guys like him could do the same and act on it. Worse, that you could entertain it.

“As in…look for someone?” Mark asked, his voice sounding pathetic beyond his control.

You sighed, staring off at the distance, not wanting to look at him. “I don’t know…it’s just…something I've been thinking about. It feels like I'm overdue to try my hand at this whole love thing…”

Overdue. Overdue. Is that really how you felt? Mark supposes you have both gone your whole lives without dating someone. At this point in your lives, that can be considered a while. Mark had never felt like he was lacking in that category, love, because he had so much of it for you. You didn’t know that, though, and now you felt overdue.

Mark’s palms were sweaty as he gripped the straps of both of your bags. “There’s…no rush, though, right...?” He questioned, trying to preach his own stupid, stupid anthem.

You nodded, a bit solemnly if he had to add, looking up at him with a strange mix of a smile and pout. “You’re right. No rush.”

Mark sighed a breath of relief. A relief that didn’t last long as you spoke up again. “But there’s also no reason to push it away anymore.”

Mark had so many questions, such as why were you set on ‘pushing it away’ until now, where the hell did this Xiaojun come from, how it can be possible that a certainty he awoke with this morning can crumble a mere few hours later, and how he could possible be so stupid, stupid, stupid, cowardly, and naive?

Mark inhaled a sharp breath, trying to stabilize himself. He wanted to freak out, he wanted so badly to bring the both of you to a halt and grab your hands, begging for you to not even think about this. However, that would also be stupid, and if he showed that he was anything short of understanding during this conversation, you would never share anything like this with him again. Then, he would be completely in the dark about your apparently beginning love life.

“If…that’s what you want.”

Stupid. Idiot. Buffon.

There it was again, that forced smile that Mark was too busy internally panicking to notice himself. “He hasn’t even said anything that confirms the suspicion. But…I’ll see. I’ll figure out what it is that I want.”

Mark nodded, trying to play it cool as his fingernails dug into his palm. He didn’t even notice that you had arrived at the train station, standing in front of the train that took you home.

You looked up at him, smiling softly as you reached up to flick hair out of his face. It didn’t help the melting pot that was his current emotions. “You texted early that you wanted to get an early patrol. You should go get ready. I’ll be okay from here.”

Mark normally would have shaken his head no immediately, insisting that he take you all the way to your front door. Today however, he felt as if the longer he spent around you, the closer he was to losing it. “You sure? I really don’t mind-” is all he managed to say as you cut him off.

“Positive. I can join you on comms later tonight. Gotta get some homework done first.” You said, looking back as the train started to pull into a stop. “You go get ready. And eat something or you’ll be off your game. Last time you went out hungry you nearly crashed in an office window.”

Mark chuckled as he rubbed the back of his neck, thinking to himself that of course only you could make him laugh and make him want to yell in such a short span. “Aye-aye captain, I’ll do that. You better go before the train leaves.”

You nodded, taking back your bag from him and waving. “I’ll come to yours tomorrow. We have o-chem in the morning. We can swing there?”

Mark smiled, as best as he could by this point, nodding. “Yeah, we’ll swing there. Text me when you’re home.”

You shot a thumbs up as the train doors opened and you rushed to get in. “I will, bye Mark! Careful!”

His heart warmed, you had always told him to be careful, no matter the hundreds and hundreds of times he must have gone out now. It wasn’t enough to make him unball his fists though. “Bye, Y/n.” He said back, missing its added sense of joy.

He watched as you walked in, taking a seat and looking back at him once. He didn’t even have the guts to stand there and watch you leave, looking back twice before he was sprinting up the subway stairs and running down the street.

The slight chill in the night felt even colder as he ran, wind blowing smack in his face, but he kept running until he found an alleyway, running deep into it until he was out of sight, away from any pedestrian eyes. The cuff Mr. Stark had given him came in handy at times like these, when all he wanted to do was be suited up as soon as he could, His heart wouldn’t stop racing as the press of a button had him in his full spider-suit. He tightened his backpack onto himself, and he was off, shooting himself up in the air, and running across a ledge before throwing himself off.

He didn’t even react as he reached closer to the ground than normal, shooting a web to divert his fall just in time. Even when he was swinging way too fast, weaving through buildings and poles and cars. All he could think about you and your words. When he woke up in the morning, he thought he had time, lots of it. Now as dusk falls over and the cars underneath him couldn’t be as loud as his thoughts, he finds out he doesn’t. Or perhaps he did, and now it had run out on him.

. 　˚ ✭　 * ✦　. ‧₊˚🕷‧₊˚　.　✦　˚ .˚　 ✭　.

“So, the last thing I said was, ‘I’ll figure out what it is that I want,’ and then we got to the train station.” You finished explaining to your roommate, Yunjin, as she sat on the opposite side of the couch.

You had only met Yunjin last year, but she already felt like one of your best friends you had ever made because of how easy it was to tell her all of your problems. Of course, you already had one of those, Mark Lee, who had been wreaking havoc in your life since you had first caused him to become the laughingstock of the popular kids back in 6th grade. But you couldn’t tell him absolutely all of your problems. Especially the biggest one, that you had always had a strange sense of infatuation for him that you expected to go away, yet here you were.

If you had to pinpoint when it began, you would say when he knocked on your window sophomore year of high school, bloodied and in the famous original spiderman costume. Mark had always been loveable, long before he got bit by that spider. It was what you liked most about him, his ability to always see the positive, to always somehow wear a smile and a laugh. In someone like that, it takes the utmost trust for them to allow the most vulnerable parts of themselves to be seen.

So, it wasn’t the suit that made you realize what you had felt. Even if you had been a major Spiderman fan and the revelation was only a little life changing, that was the last thing on your mind. He was hurt, he was scared, and he needed someone, and his first thought was you.

You thought it was a fluke, feeling so much for someone so unexpected. Surely, it was bound to go away. Yet, it didn’t. The feeling was nagging and adamant, just like Mark, and refused to let go.

After some time, you came to terms with the fact that nothing about it was unexpected at all. Since you met Mark, you spent every waking moment with him. Going to your first hero convention, building the Lego death star you got for your birthday, the school trip to Venice, middle school dances, high school dances, all of it was Mark, Mark, Mark, Mark. Every memory, the good and bad, that held a special place in your heart had Mark. How was he not to become special as well?

You thought about coming straight out with it, hoping to get closure or acceptance or anything that would help maim the feeling of overflowing love. However, Mark wasn’t just Mark anymore, he was Spiderman. While the latter didn’t matter much to you, it had become a part of who he was. With his great powers, came great responsibility. Not just that, but it seemed like him almost dying every other weekend had become his new reality. While it was stressful watching Mark go through all of that, even as you became his girl-in-the-chair of sorts to help him on patrols, you couldn’t imagine how stressful it was for Mark for himself. It felt unfair to throw a confession on top of everything he already had to deal with.

So, you decided if anything were to happen between you two, Mark would have to initiate it.

While you may have kept it better under wraps, Mark always wore his emotions on his sleeves. It would take an outstanding idiot to not notice the way he acted around you. The way his ears go pink before his cheeks do, the way on occasion he’ll forget to respond as he stares in a trance, or he’ll fumble with whatever object he has in his hand. Mark had always had those awkward, loser-ish tendencies, but it was undeniable at how they seemed to be at their worst whenever you were around.

He had to have at least entertained the idea. So, therefore it was just a waiting game. When Spiderman was ready to take that leap, so were you.

You waited, and waited, waited, and waited, and waited some more. Suddenly, the second year of university came, and you were still waiting.

Honestly, it had brought you down that no moves were made as you graduated high school. Needless to say, that the fact he was still radio silent when entering university only made you more discouraged and had you wondering if your premonition was wrong after all.

Your new roommate turned friend, however, was quick to catch onto your gloominess, and almost immediately connected the dots that it was about Mark.

Since you caught her up on everything she needed to know, while of course keeping Mark’s secret locked away, she had become a trusted person to confide in. As opposed to your clear inexperience, Yunjin had more experience on her love life resume, and was always at bay with advice.

Her recent advice being something that she believed would speed up the process, to display your availability, and to flaunt that you were planning on using it. In whatever form that may be.

So, when Xiaojun exchanged numbers with you, (and in your defense, was indeed being a little too friendly) it was the perfect opportunity to test the theory.

That is how you found yourself here, playing the conversation back and forth amongst each other to try and decipher if it worked.

Yunjin groaned, hand coming down to smack the pillow in her lap. “‘I’ll figure out what it is that I want.’ You guys are impossible. It is crystal clear what you both want.” She said with a shake of her head. “Is that really all he said? ‘If that’s what you want?’ How did he…I don’t know, was he panicky or shaky or anything?”

You thought about it with a sigh, shrugging. “I mean, I guess he was a little. At the stop walk he…almost forgot to move? But he had just come from that Stark internship, he’s always like that after it. Like a deer in headlights.”

Yunjin sighed as well, biting her bottom lip in thought. “Okay, this is good. This is a good start. We’ll just have to ramp up the Xiaojun thing and eventually, he’ll be forced to crack.”

You smiled, a little bittersweetly, your hands clenched together. “I hope it plays out like that…otherwise all this for nothing.”

Yunjin could read you like a book, a superpower of hers Mark didn’t always have, ironically. “Not for nothing. You know, you could always say something.”

You looked up at her with a knowing look, shaking your head with a sigh. “You know I can’t. He’s got too much to deal with, he’s literally sp…super busy. With school and the stark internship. I just can’t.”

Yunjin nodded as she stood up, taking the memo not to pry any further. “Alright, I hope this works then, for the sake of you both.” She said as she grabbed your face in her hands jokingly. “Seriously. I’m sick of looking at it.”

You swatted her hand away, chuckling. You hoped it worked too. With your whole being.

. 　˚ ✭　 * ✦　. ‧₊˚🕷‧₊˚　.　✦　˚ .˚　 ✭　.

Mark landed on the roof of his apartment that night exhausted from a full day of work followed by an evening patrol. Crime was quiet lately, with his biggest cases today being a measly shoplifter and a cat stuck in a tree. The type of quiet that came before a storm. Mark had too much on his mind to think about that, however. All of which involves you.

He deactivated his suit and found himself back in regular clothes, waltzing his way down the rooftop access stairs, all the way to his apartment on the 6th floor.

He came in fidgety and anything but calm, seemingly too pumped with adrenaline and emotion to be as tired as he usually is after days like this.

Mark had the opportunity to be roommates with two of his friends, Johnny and Doyoung. Luckily for him and unluckily for his friend, Johnny was sitting on the couch, a gaming controller in his hands as he looked up to see the ball of nervousness make its way into the once mellow apartment. “Hey, Mark.” Johnny greeted, not talking his eyes off the TV. “You wanna play overwatch? Doyoung’s out for the night.”

Mark could barely register the question, his backpack slamming on the kitchen table as he plopped down on the couch next to Johnny. “What? No, no. I’m good, don’t wanna play. I have to talk to you, though.”

Johnny sighed, not taking his eyes off the screen. If his hands weren’t so busy, he’d probably grab his head too. The subject was painfully obvious. “What’s up?”

Mark sat back, looking at the ceiling. “Y/n. I messed up. So bad, dude.”

Johnny nodded, trying to feign surprise. “I see. How is she by the way? I haven’t seen her in a while.”

Mark ran his hand through his hair, shooting the back of Johnny’s head a look at the inappropriate question during his time of stress. “She’s fine, dude. She told me something today.” Mark said, taking a deep breath to begin his rant. “You know, I told you…I’m confessing soon. Or I’m planning to. When I work up to it. I thought…shit. I’m so stupid. I thought she’d wait for me. She doesn’t even know, but I thought she’d wait. Apparently, there’s this dumb guy she has a group project with. Xiaojun, that’s his name. He’s flirting with her, I’m assuming. They exchanged numbers and everything.”

Johnny listened with his eyes a little narrowed, nodding in understanding. “Ah. I know that guy. He’s pretty cool.”

The look on Mark’s face couldn’t be described as anything less than offended. “He is arguably not. I mean…I know people must try to hit on her and stuff, but she was like…all cryptic. Saying things like ‘maybe it’s time to not say no so quickly’ and ‘I’m overdue at this love thing.’ She says she doesn’t like him but…she’s…she’s looking to date right? It’s gotta mean that.”

Johnny raised his eyebrows, fighting the urge to keep playing his game or turn and start shaking Mark by his shoulders. “Listen, Mark. Y/n’s a nice girl, full package, great person, gorgeous as well, and a single college student. Dating is kinda what you do. Especially with someone like Xiaojun.”

Mark’s world couldn’t crumble any faster. If only Doyoung was there instead, he at least would have broken the news a little nicer. “Oh, God. Shit. What…what do I do? She’s gonna start...dating.” He muttered with his hands on his face, glasses pushing up to his head.

Johnny stifled a groan. “Mark, you do what you should’ve done years ago. You just tell her, man.”

Mark didn’t like that answer. Of course, it was the only one that made sense, but he was hoping that someone would have some sort of miracle solution. “You say that like it’s easy.”

“Shouldn’t it be though?” Johnny retorted. “I mean, you’ve known this girl nearly half of your life. She cares about you a lot. You see it, I see it, we all see it. A confession isn’t going to break a bond like this, it can’t. You’ve got to know by now that what you’ve got is stronger than that.”

In the eyes of Mark, what Johnny said went against what every imagined worst-case scenario told him, even if logically it had made sense. You weren’t the type of person to cause a grand thing or make Mark feel bad about something so small. That was inherently the problem, however. Nothing about this was small. Small is the last word he would use to describe how he feels about you. You wouldn’t consider small something that could fill every ocean on earth's surface and then some. “How do I even tell her? I can’t just say ‘I’m in love with you.’” Mark argued, his voice sounding more and more pathetic.

Johnny used a brief moment to shoot a look at Mark, his eyes going back to the TV as he finally put his controller down and completely discarded the match he was in, leaning on his knees. “At this point, that’s exactly what you say. Your problem is that you’re trying to make it too grand, too perfect. Y/n has never been the type to be a stickler for that. It doesn’t matter how you do it, it won’t affect the outcome. If the feelings are there, which if you ask me, I think they are, then they’re there. Plain and simple.”

Mark felt a lot of things, but at that moment defeat was most prominent. He had been imagining for years how he would confess to you. In one fantasy he would buy a billboard in Times Square and take you to see it, or perhaps he would learn the guitar and write you a song. He could make his own advent calendar, buy you a present everyday each specifically curated to your wants, and on the final day, a beautiful piece of jewelry. You deserved nothing short of perfect, but now he had to ask himself if that was really what you would want, or if he’s trying to pull every string he can for it to work in his favor.

“So, what do I do…?” Mark said quietly, running his hand through dark hair.

“I just told you. Just tell her. Write her a poem, take her to dinner, or just straight up come out with it. Just tell her, as soon as you can, before it’s too late.” Johnny said, a supportive hand patting Mark’s back. “No more waiting. You’ve run out of time. I’ve told you this before, but I promise you it’ll turn out fine.”

It had been a wild afternoon filled with many unwanted revelations and a nasty swirl of emotions, but the quick conversation had brought Mark to the eye of the storm. He was backed into a corner, with only one way out, and that realization had finally dawned on him. “You’re…you’re right. I have to…as soon as I can.”

Johnny ruffled Mark’s hair, reaching for his controller. “That’s the spirit. You wanna play Overwatch now?”

Mark shot up and grabbed his bag from the table. “Nah, I’ll pass. I’m beat. I’ll probably just go to sleep, honestly.”

Johnny nodded as he returned his focus back to the TV. “Night, then. Don’t stare at your ceiling all night.”

Mark scoffed as he called from the hallway. “Wasn’t gonna do that. And goodnight!”

He didn’t stare at his ceiling, but he did stare at his desk and lined paper almost all night. Johnny’s first idea of writing a poem was thrown out there randomly, but Mark didn’t think it was half bad. It was a short read on your end, and easy to get the point across without Mark having to do much talking. So, he wrote away, trying various different styles. From haikus to Shakespearean sonnets, to a ballad, each one frustrating him more and more. He even tried to make his usually sloppy writing neater than usual with cursive.

In his last attempt, he decided to ditch all rules of quatrains, lines, and rhyme schemes and instead write whatever he was feeling in a free verse poem. Finally, he felt the poem was right. Enough to say what he needed yet not including the words he needed to tell you himself. With a sigh, he laid out the poem neatly on his desk, ridding all evidence of his struggle the past hour by clearing off all pens and discarding all crumbled up sheets of paper in a trash can.

Mark found himself staring at it over with pride. Was it cheesy? Yeah. Was Mark a hopeless romantic? Certainly. That is just who Mark is, he knows that. After all these years spent with him, surely you know that too by now.

He was drained by this point, his eye lids that have felt stretched open the past few hours feeling too heavy for him to fight against them. Finally, he flopped on his bed, being able to close his eyes and drift to sleep, with plans to give you the poem laid on his desk the next time he saw you.

. 　˚ ✭　 * ✦　. ‧₊˚🕷‧₊˚　.　✦　˚ .˚　 ✭　.

Mark didn’t process that he would be seeing you much sooner than he expected. Soon being the next morning that you had set to head to class together. How could he when he was so out of it? He hadn’t felt as physically and emotionally tired as he did yesterday in a while, which consequently probably caused him to sleep through his alarm the next morning.

So, he slept like a boulder, missing all of your incoming calls and texts saying that you were headed to him, blissfully unaware of the poem laid out on his desk.

Mark still slept like a baby as you arrived at his apartment, and of course Doyoung had let you in without hesitation. It was completely out of his control as you made your way to his room on a mission to wake him up. Mark stirred awake, slowly and whiny, as you shook his shoulder, your voice quiet yet enough to wake him up gently. “Mark…you overslept. Get up now, so we won’t be late.”

Mark groaned, rubbing his eyes as you stepped away from him, your job complete. In Mark’s freshly awoken state, he didn’t see what the problem was as you browsed around his room while he gained consciousness, eventually pulling his desk chair out to sit at. Sitting down, your curious eyes landed on the only thing that was laid out, his poem. Well, your poem.

He sat up, his hands still attacking his eyes, trying to rub the sleep away, and you were already well into reading it. Your face was a scramble of feelings that only grew in perplexion as you read every last word, and even getting the chance to read it twice before Mark realized. After a particularly effective yawn and stretch, his eyes landed on you with your eyes set on the paper. Only then did Mark shoot up on his feet, his limbs stumbling as he decided if he should play it cool or snatch the paper from your hands, his only thought being, “please tell me she didn’t read it, please tell me she didn’t read it, please tell me she didn’t read it, please tell me she didn’t read it.”

At Mark’s not very subtle reaction, you put the paper down, looking up at Mark from the chair. “That’s…” Is all you managed to say, not being able to choose between the words intense, beautiful, star striking, devoted, or out of place in Mark’s room. So instead, you stayed speechless for a moment, another feeling the poem invoked as you studied his every move. “Did you write that…? For who? Your writing looks different-”

In a split second, Mark was torn between answering your question with a “yes” and several “you, you, you, you, it’s all about you, only about you," ’s which is what he should have done, or lying his head off.

The image in his mind of you sat in front of him, seeking answers to your questions, looking at Mark like you were searching for something, it seemed to move in slow motion. This was the plan, was it not? He would hand you the poem, and then he would just admit it was about you. You were more than smart enough to piece together what that implied.

As he cut you off, he hoped that was what came out, a mere couple of words that would be all he needed to say in the moment. However, when has anything ever gone his way?

“I didn’t write it!”

Mark said a little too desperately, wishing he could exit this sack of meat and bones and punch it across the face. “Not my writing. Too neat. I uh…I found it…on my desk! In my coding class! Must be some kind of secret admirer, I think.” He exclaimed, watching as your face went from something that he couldn’t tell was hope to neutrality, drinking in his lie as fast as he had come up with it.

“Oh…well, that’s…wow. They must really like you,” you pondered as your eyes grazed over the paper.

Somehow, the poem that he had poured his heart into for you, had turned into the sign of affection that a made up secret admirer had written for Mark. If you weren’t right in front of him, he’d fall to his knees, grabbing his head in his hands as his first confession attempt results in a failure down the drain. “Yeah…I guess so…”

Turns out, confessing right away was going to be much harder than he imagined.

. 　˚ ✭　 * ✦　. ‧₊˚🕷‧₊˚　.　✦　˚ .˚　 ✭　.

chap. 2

chap. 3

#mark lee #mark lee x reader #nct 127 #nct dream #nct x reader #nct 127 x reader #mark lee fluff #mark lee smut #spidermark #fanfiction #spidermark x reader

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dearlyd3parted · 4 months ago

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ok posting something in like the next 2 days ⌯᷄︎ ̫ ⌯᷅︎❤️ originally i was only doing spidermark but then intak got to me and jongseob got to me AGAIN so im working on three different things LOL but whoever is finished first will be published first so STAY TUNED ദ്ദി( °ヮ° )

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dearlyd3parted · 4 months ago

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𝚆𝚎𝚕𝚌𝚘𝚖𝚎 𝚝𝚘 𝚖𝚢 𝚖𝚊𝚜𝚝𝚎𝚛𝚕𝚒𝚜𝚝! 🪼⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

‧₊˚✩彡 very huge congratulations to u on finding a pro yearner"s masterlist (who also writes smut :P)

‧₊˚✩彡 not a lot right now, just started posting on tumblr! but ill update frequently!

‧₊˚✩彡 updated as of 1/19/2025

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 .

ⓟ①ⓗⓐⓡⓜⓞⓝⓨ

jongseob ꒰ᐢ. .ᐢ꒱₊˚⊹:

✦half agony, half hope ~ 14.4k wc

kim jongseob has a problem. well, lots of them actually. his lighters never last long, his friends keep pestering him, he’s recently discovered he’s a lot more of an outsider than he thought he was, and the librarian is doing something strange to his heart.

#fanfic #fanfiction #masterlist #p1harmony fanfic #anime #kpop #nct 127 fanfic #txt fanfic #p1harmony x reader #txt x reader

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dearlyd3parted · 4 months ago

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those 20 likes on half agony half smoke mean sm to me you guys dont UNDERSTANDD ˊᗜˋ!!!!! i haven't written fic in soooo long so i felt like i lost my touch but a few of u like it and AHHHH makes me so happy! (づ˶•༝•˶)づ♡ my requests are open pls send anything!! and also follow me pls i will follow back i just want FRIENDS ♡⸜(˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶ )⸝

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dearlyd3parted · 4 months ago

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queen the people really want to see an epilogue to the jongseob fic

LOLLLLLL maybe perhaps stay tuned currently working on spidermark and cooking up something for jiung :D

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dearlyd3parted · 4 months ago

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half agony, half smoke | k. jongseob x reader

syp☆彡: kim jongseob has a problem. well, lots of them actually. his lighters never last long, his friends keep pestering him, he’s recently discovered he’s a lot more of an outsider than he thought he was, and the librarian is doing something strange to his heart.

word count: 14.4k

warnings: delinquent!jongseob (as i have pegged it) x librarian!reader .. 18+, nsfw, does contain smut at the end, minors do not interact! light angst (gets resolved quick dw), mentions of smoking (devils lettuce), drinking, some profanity.

⛓️authors note : debut fic lol !! this is v self indulgent, i love jongseob killing it era and i love books how can you blame me(^_^) havent written fic in forever and used to be an ao3 author, only proofread once so pls be nice!! i hope to open requests in the future :3 hope u love!

🏷️: #p1harmony fanfic #p1harmony smut #kim jongseob #i love this one #pls love it too

“Out of all of us…I think Jongseob’s the worst.”

Is what came out in chuckles from Keeho’s mouth, followed by 4 other snickers and remarks of agreement. Jongseob, in question, was staring at the ceiling in a daze, when the statement made him bring his half lidded gaze back to his friends.

“The worst? How, hyung?” Jongseob said with a growing smirk, his body sunk into the couch as a familiar wave of relaxation took over him.

It was a typical weekday night, at least for Jongseob and his friends it was. They had just finished band practice, which usually consisted of running through a small setlist and messing around in the studio, which was just a small corner with all their necessary equipment in Theo’s basement. Oh, and of course the obligatory blunt (or two…or three) that they passed around after every practice like some sort of closing ritual.

Keeho was sprawled on the floor, joined by Shota, when he propped up on his elbow to stare at Jongseob with the same half lidded eyes. “You’re a total…delinquent.” He began, receiving nods from others. “I mean, we all are, I guess. But you’re like…especially worse.”

Following that statement came sounds of mmmm’s, indicating agreement from the other equally stoned guys in the room. And, well now Jongseob’s entire high was ruined.

He sat up to look around and couldn’t believe his barely opened eyes that these guys were mutually agreeing that he was the most misbehaved out of them all. Not when he’s seen Theo and Intak play a garage show for one of those stupidly large buzz balls. Now he was offended.

“Worse?” He spat with a puzzled look knitted in his eyebrows. “What do you mean? I’m not even in the top three in this room.”

Keeho snickered, joined by Intak who now took responsibility in explaining to Jongseob this twisted agenda that was being spread. “Dude, Come on. You’re the youngest, for starters.” He said as he took a drag, the neatly rolled blunt resting in his fingers. “So automatically you’ve got that edge to you…You were in the back of a cop car once. Theo had to call and pretend to be your dad, remember?”

Jongseob stared at him with thin, offended eyes as the blunt was passed down to soul, and apparently the shit-talk-jongseob baton to Keeho as he took over. “I definitely remember that. You're also addicted to those little pens, even though we tell you those things are bad for you. Let’s see…you fought throughout like all of your freshman and sophomore year. No idea how you graduated, by the way.”

Jongseob scoffed, running his hand through messy hair as he looked at the ceiling. “That was so long ago.”

“Whatever, you still did it.” Keeho retorted, giggling at soul puffing his cheeks with smoke. “What else……..oh! There was also your graffiti phase, too. Although we can’t get on you too much for that one. Sometimes you cuss like a sailor, You’re a little asshole to all of us. Aaaand…You’re failing community college. Even Jiung and Theo, and I have music degrees, man.”

Jongseob was passed the blunt from Shota (not so much passing as Jongseob snatching it) and took a long, hard drag before he shook his head and spoke. “Music degrees, wow. You’re gonna be baristas.”

Theo clicked his tongue and let out an annoyed sound as he looked over at an unbothered Jiung and very bothered Keeho. “See, little asshole.”

Shota, who out of he and Jiung would be most likely to defend Jongseob, finally sighed. “I don’t know Seob, that’s pretty bad.”

Jongseob was just irritated now. Cause honestly, if he began listing everything this bunch has done, himself excluded, they’d be there for an hour. Only because he was the youngest, and maybe a little snarkier, and maybe caring the least for any type of school or employment outside of music, was he named the biggest delinquent. What it was was, “Bullshit. You guys are all on your high horse but I’m really not bad.”

The next pillar who was meant to defend Jongseob came crumbling down, leaving his foundation crumbled and turned to dust as Jiung spoke up. “Jongseob…when was the last time you read a book?”

Jongseob stayed quiet, the question catching him off guard, and just as he was about to answer, Intak cut him off. “No comic books don’t count.”

He made a point to blow smoke in his face as he rebuttled, “Shota literally reads comic books, too.”

Keeho waved him off, a hand patting Shota’s head. “Shota’s just different. Whatever, the point remains. Not like you can help it though. You’re younger than all of us, so you’re going to be less mature. Now pass the blunt, it’s my turn.”

Jongseob shooed away the hand that was reaching for it, leaning back and looking at the ceiling, the blunt following his mouth. “Screw off, roll a new one.”

★彡

It had been maybe a day later when Jongseob found himself holding onto the rail of a train headed to an outer district of the city, known for housing one particular facility.

The library.

He had his headphones on, trying to bob his head to the song he was listening to, but he kept asking himself the same question. It was in only a few short minutes that he decided to grab his go-to dark wash jeans from the floor and any tank top that went with it, and make his way to the train station to go to the library.

But, the question was none other than why?

The truth is, every man has an insatiable ego, and Jongseob was not going to let it be bruised due to “being too much of a delinquent”, all at the fault of the epitome of rebellion themselves. (His dear, dear friends.)

So, he was going to read a book, damnit.

He didn’t care which, truly. Unfortunately, their statements had held true. Jongseob vaguely remembers reading a random chapter book back in his 6th year, but that was the last he had seen of that. Any book that he ever gave the light of day to were in fact comic books, and maybe he’d occasionally read a paragraph or two if one of his favorite artists had a written interview.

He didn’t care what book he read, he just needed to read something. As long as it was profound and complex and pretentious and educational or whatever, it would do the job of rubbing it in his friends face that he was more well rounded than they made him out to be.

That is the goal he was laser focused on as he stepped off the train, walking the short distance through the city and pushing through the heavy doors of the library, despite every bone in his body rejecting the idea.

He took a deep breath as he walked in, fumbling to turn off the music leaking from his headphones as it contradicted the quiet environment. Jongseob made his way to the front desk, suddenly conscious of every noise he made. Did the library require pin silence, or just no talking? Hell if he knew.

The front desk was empty. Momentarily, Jongseob searched for a bell, but realized that would be quite counter productive in this setting.

But, he didn’t have to search for long. He could hear shuffling behind the wall, coming from the room behind the front desk that said “archives” on the plaque. He looked down, and saw the belongings of someone who was there, surely someone was working.

Jongseob cleared his throat after a few seconds, deciding he had no choice but to call out, and so he did. “S’there someone back there?”

The shuffling stopped for a second, and continued, as a female voice could be heard. “Uh, yes! I’ll be out in a moment.”

Jongseob ran a hand over his neck before leaning on the counter. So, apparently it is okay to talk that loud in libraries. He struggled in stifling an annoyed groan as all that ran through his mind was that he didn’t want to be here longer than he needed to. But, alas, he had to see it through.

He lifted his head up from his shoes, staring at the wall that separated him and the librarian. “I just need to know…what uh…what books are the most important, you know? Like, what had the most impact or something.”

A sigh and continued shuffling could be heard as the librarian continued tending to what she was doing. “Oh, so…like the most influential? Um, I personally would say authors like Homer, Tolstoy, Voltaire, Plato, Dostoyevsky, they definitely have some of the most important books written. Something everyone should read.”

The librarian seemed to be fond of the question, but Jongseob wasn’t particularly fond of the answer, considering all of those names already sounded complicated.

A thud could be heard from the back, “But you also can’t forget the women authors that shaped literature. Toni Morrison, Jane Austen, the Brontë sisters…” The librarian rambled.

Jongseob was already discouraged, his head leaning on his hand. He was almost close to walking off, accepting his delinquent and classic stoner title, when the librarian stopped shuffling. Footsteps could be heard and out emerged you.

When Jongseob thought of a librarian, he thought of a middle aged lady, one who needed to desperately get laid and interact with someone other than her cats. Not a girl his age (who looked way too bright), with a sweet smile plastered on her face.

Jongseob stood up straight from where he was leaning, watching as you straightened out your clothes, and pushed up your glasses. You had a look of understanding, like you knew Jongseob was lost and clearly needed some elaboration on every word that had just come out of your mouth.

“Though, all those names can be a lot if you’ve never heard them before…” You said, your hands resting on the counter as Jongseob took in every aspect of you.

Your hair, braided to the side with strands sticking out in a perfect almost intentional way. Your eyes, doe-like and big, as if you could talk about this all day, even with someone like Jongseob. Your clothes, soft and delicate, nothing like Jongseob’s style, yet just so fitting on you. There seemed to be only one thought running rampant in his mind now as he processed all of these micro details.

Damnit, she is so cute.

Jongseob was interrupted from his thoughts as you spoke again. “I would recommend The great gatsby by F. Scott Fitzgerald to start off, and Animal Farm by George Orwell. Those are always the easiest to digest.”

Jongseob was too entranced to even care about the fact that you already knew he was too stupid to read any of the authors you had stated at first. He was almost too distracted to answer, but he managed to anyway as he swallowed the fluster in his throat. “Uh, okay, yeah. Great Gatsby…Animal Farm. Where can I find those?”

You pushed away from the counter, ducking down and leaving Jongseob’s sight. And strangely, it took everything in him to not lean over the counter to watch, but he didn’t have to as you popped shortly after, startling him into leaning back a little.

“Lucky for you, I haven’t put these back on the shelf. Here,” You said, pushing the books towards him, “You can read the backs!”

Jongseob reached out, picking up The Great Gatsby first, breathing in deeply before he started to read, already worried about seeming like a dumbass.

He began to skim through the paragraph in the back. A skim, because he would read a few words, think about it, and look up at you as sneakily as he could. By the time he remembered what he had to be doing, he had lost his place, and skipped a few words as he repeated this method.

Great Gatsby, F. Scott Fitzgerald's third book…She’s pretty…Jazz Age…Generations of readers….She’s not doing anything, but she’s pretty…A Story of the fabulously wealthy Jay Gatsby and his love for the beautiful Daisy Buchanan…Can she see me looking?…Lavish parties…"gin was the national drink and sex the national obsession,"…God, I think she saw me stare…Exquisitely crafted tale…1920s….one of the great classics of twentieth-century literature.

As Jongseob started to lower the book from his line of view, you took note, stopping from scanning the barcodes of recently returned books to look at him. “What’d you think?” You asked him enthusiastically, genuinely curious to know.

Jongseob stayed quiet for a few seconds, partly because he was trying to process both what he just read, but also that you were standing in front of him again and he shouldn’t be this nervous. “Uh…so it’s, about parties? And some guy who’s in love with a girl?”

Hearing the extremely simplified yet somehow accurate summarization of the book from Jongseob, you giggled, the back of your hand coming to your mouth momentarily before looking back at him with a smile. Jongseob should NOT have felt so many emotions from a simple laugh. “Pretty much. But, like it said, super fancy parties. Not like the regular house parties we know.”

Jongseob pulled his gaze to the counter, placing it down as his rings made a noise grazing the wooden surface, still recovering from the sound of your laugh. “I don’t go to parties, so…don’t know what they’re like, but I’ll keep that in mind.” Jongseob said, before his eyes darted up to you. Why’d he say that? Was that rude, awkward, or worse, stupid? Why does he want you to know he doesn’t go to parties? I mean, he doesn’t, but is he already trying to convince you he’s not as much of a jackass as he looks?

Either way, you had definitely taken him as the type to go to parties, and that was evident by the way your eyes widened a little. Just subtly enough that if Jongseob wasn’t staring right at them, he might have not noticed. “Ah, I see,” you say through a smile, “I don’t either, but still, you’ll see the difference!”

You pushed the other book towards him, Jongseob watching your every movement. “Read the other! I think this one is the more interesting of the two!”

Jongseob nods, picking up the back of Animal Farm, prying his eyes off of you as he breathes and prepares himself for another synopsis with unnecessarily big words. With an internal sigh, he tries to shake off any surrounding thoughts to get a better grasp on this one.

A farm is taken over by its overworked, mistreated animals. With flaming idealism and stirring slogans, they set out to create a paradise of progress, justice, and equality. Thus the stage is set for one of the most telling satiric fables ever penned—a razor-edged fairy tale for grown-ups that records the evolution from revolution against tyranny to a totalitarianism just as terrible.

Jongseob can just tell his eyebrows are a little contorted. Despite not having an absolute grasp on what exactly tyranny and totalitarianism was, what he got from that was some poorly treated animals took over a farm, and somehow started to run it themselves? He wondered for a second if he was still high from yesterday, before you entered and cleared any confusion.

“Yeah, that one can seem a bit odd,” you said as you walked back over to him. “But, it is in fact about farm animals who take over their farm. Just with the added element of how power corrupts. I swear, it’s interesting once you start it up.”

Jongseob looks down at it, using every part of his brain that was tied to memory as he tried to pick apart the word totalitarianism. “So what, the animals turn into like, Stalin and all those other guys?”

You nod enthusiastically. “Yeah, just like that actually! George Orwell wanted the book to be an allegory, or a…hidden message, that represents the Russian revolution.”

Jongseob nods, a more smug look on his face knowing that he accidentally hit it on the dot. If only keeho could see him right now. It quickly turned into him looking like an idiot however, as not only could he simultaneously not stop looking at you but not holding eye contact, but he also wanted to hear you talk more, with no clue what to say. He was such a loser, why can’t he speak? You were just a girl, after all. What should he say? Does he even say anything? Can you tell that he’s nervous? And again, he shouldn’t be this nervous-

“So, you want to check them out? I can do that for you.” You said as his thoughts whirled, reminding him that he was standing in a public library.

Jongseob rubs the back of his neck and nods as he manages to slow his heart rate. “Yeah, I’ll take them.”

The next few minutes are spent with you and Jongseob going back and forth. Asking if he has a library card, Jongseob says yes, not wanting you to think this is the first time he’s ever been around a book, but he actually doesn’t know. You ask him for his number, put it in the system, and it turns out he doesn’t actually have a card.

Eventually, Jongseob ends up with a library card and Animal Farm and The Great Gatsby checked out under his name. As you slided the books back over to him, telling him he was all set with that stupidly sweet smile, he froze.

“So, how long do you think these will take me to read?”

He doesn’t know why he said anything, when he could’ve just bid you farewell and been on his merry way. Well, actually, he does know. He needed to talk to you more, and blurted the first question to come up in his mind. It’s just embarrassing to admit.

You tilted your head at him, thinking about it with inquisition, “Hm, well they’re both only a little over 100 pages…How long did it take you to read your last book?”

He really should’ve just walked away.

“Maybe…like a week.”

Lies. Such a lie. He could only pray the questions stopped there.

“And how long was it?”

Jongseob paused, pretending to think about it, but in his mind scrambling for any impressive number. Over 200 pages was good right? No, too little. 300? 500?

“Um…I think around, 620…?”

You didn’t have to know 6 represented the number of members in his band, and 20 derived from the number that represents his favorite substance.

But of course, you believed him. Having no reason to doubt, really. Looking pleasantly surprised, you nodded. “That’s pretty good! I think both should definitely take you no more than a week.”

If Jongseob already wasn’t feeling embarrassed, he was now also overwhelmed with annoyance. Less than a week implied a few days, and he had never spent more than 10 minutes reading. Still, he tried his best to feign indifference, nodding his head. “Alright, well, thank you.”

You waved at him as he pushed away from the counter. “Anytime! I look forward to hearing your thoughts!”

Jongseob smiled politely, and turned around to walk away, swearing that he let go of a breath he had been holding since he walked in.

His headphones slipped back on as he recalled everything that had just happened. Not only does he now have two books in his hand that are definitely biting off more than he can chew, he interacted with the prettiest girl who he has seen in a while, but likely made a fool of himself and lied straight to her face.

He shook his head, wishing he could slap himself as he clenched on the books and swearing he would take this to the grave. Only the lord knew if his friends found out it would never die down.

Yeah, he was never coming back. And he certainly wasn’t reading these snoozefests. Jongseob had accepted defeat.

★彡

It had only been four days since he came that the blonde boy was back.

You have always loved reading. For most people, reading was something that they just had to do throughout school. Ever since you remember though, reading was never just a chore.

Since you were old enough, you made it your life’s mission to read whatever you could get your hands on. Prose, Poems, Novels, Biographies, Memoirs, Trilogies, Nonfiction, Fiction, Plays, and everything and anything in between.

If that made you a goody-two-shoes or not, you didn’t care. You were simply too busy immersing yourself in everything the well educated in society had to say, whether it was recent or from 500 years ago.

You always knew you wanted to pursue a type of career where you would somehow be involved in written media, in any way, shape, or form. Therefore, when an internship for a weekday program as an assistant librarian presented itself, you were all over the opportunity.

The job was going well. Afterall, you were getting paid to be surrounded by what you loved most. Sure, there would always be the rather fascinating people that you had to handle, but that came along with any job.

Jongseob, as the name on his file states, was certainly one of them.

It was odd enough that someone was asking for book recommendations with the criteria of being ‘the most important, you know?,’ but to continue to have a roller coaster of a conversation, bouncing from parties to hearing he allegedly read over 600 pages in a week.

You like to believe that literature always found people in life when they needed it. And throughout the time you spent at the library, you had come across many different characters reaching that point of their lives.

But never someone like Jongseob. Someone who looked like he was out of a rock band, throwing or attending the heaviest ragers in town during the weekends, and overall being what society liked to call an outsider. Someone who was pushing through the wooden double doors of the library and making a b-line to the front desk with books in hand you thought you’d never see again.

You smiled up at him from your computer, surely he wouldn’t be here for long if he was back so soon.

“Hello again? Didn’t like the books?” You said, watching him as he leaned against the counter again, taking in his what seemed to be classic dazed appearance adorned with baggy all black and a chain or two. Yeah, surely he was just dropping them off.

“Nah, I finished them…I have…lots of questions, though.”

That, you certainly weren’t expecting.

Regardless of how shocking the news may be, you were ecstatic. Not only that you had helped encourage a new person to read, but this person now had questions. Even someone like him. You beamed as you stood up to stand in front of him eager for this. “I’m sure I have answers.”

Jongseob seemed to ground himself with a sigh as he grabbed ‘Animal Farm’ in his hands. “You were right, this one was interesting when I started. So…was that one pig Napoleon, he really trained those puppies just so he could gain power?”

You nodded as you looked down and back at him, finding the curiosity and questioning in his face pretty…..endearing. “Uh, yeah, seems like it. And also as a way of keeping the rest of the farm scared,” You explained with a smile.

Jongseob nodded in understanding, his eyes narrowing as he searched for his next words. “I don’t get why Boxer was so loyal…I mean, I get he was dumb and all…but even then he couldn’t see what was happening, you know?”

You hummed in understanding, noting the way he waited for your word. “Well…since the book is an allegory to the Russian revolution, Boxer is supposed to be the Russian working class. They weren’t dumb…just tricked into doing work, similar to Boxer.”

This time it was Jongseob’s turn to nod as he looked down at the book, and this time seeming to have a much better grasp on the conversation as the first time he came around. “It was…it was pretty alright. I think it’s cool he did that, the author.” Jongseob began as he looked up, his hands tapping on the counter as he spoke to you with intrigue.

“He made the revolution easy to understand through a story about…pigs. That’s pretty cool, honestly. Cause I definitely didn’t understand any of that in sch-…….” Jongseob was saying before he seemed to freeze, his expression going sheepish as he stopped himself from finishing his sentence. “Um, yeah. Good book.”

You couldn’t help but smile at the save. Clearly, before this book, he hadn’t had a clue what happened during any revolution for that matter. Yet he didn’t want to let you know that. Perhaps from embarrassment, or an attempt to impress you. For some very odd reason, you were hoping it was the latter. You motioned to the second book at the counter, “What about great gatsby?”

Jongseob blinked himself to his default before he put down Animal Farm, switching the subject to the second book he read. “That one was ... .it was…not complicated but…hard to sit though?” He said, looking up to meet your eyes to check if that hadn’t hopefully passed as a ‘it was majorly confusing.’ “It’s about…money, right? Or…how people obsess too much over it and stuff.”

You nodded eagerly in approval, happy that even if he could barely get through it, he at least took away the most important aspect of the book. “Yeah! It played with the ideas of old money and new money, but at the end of the day, money was a major theme.”

Jongseob’s shoulders relaxed as if he had passed a quiz, and he leaned against the counter with a less tense demeanor. “So the Gatsby guy, he threw all those parties for Daisy. But…I don’t know. How could he expect a girl he dated for a month to wait 5 years for him?”

You pondered the question. It typically wasn’t one people asked, but he had a point. “He thought their love was strong enough, I guess. Maybe it was at some point, but not when they met 5 years later.

His face contorted a bit, as his head tilted like a confused animal. “She clearly didn’t love Tom either.” He remarked, and it was amusing how the conversation could pass as two people discussing a cheesy romance novel.

You shrugged and hummed in agreement with him. “No, but, greater than the love she once had for Gatsby, she loved the wealth and status Tom could give her more.”

Jongseob scoffed standing straighter up as both his palms rested on the counter. It was nice to see someone feeling everything that Fitzgerald likely wanted the reader to feel from the book, but somehow comedic to see that Jongseob almost seemed to be taking it personally. “That’s fu-, I mean, that’s messed up. How weird do you have to be to choose that over love? Gatsby was loaded too. And then, letting Gatsby get killed for Myrtle's death, when she was driving? I don’t think she ever loved him, honestly.”

It wasn’t the first time you talked to someone about books like this, but maybe the first that it was to someone your age that looked like this and seemed to be just as into it as you are. That made it all the more exciting. “My favorite part of that book was the last chapter. I think it really ties it all together how Gatsby had all these socialites, luxury, material things around him, but no one came to his funeral. Really makes you think, right?”

Jongseob nodded, a small turn in the corner of his mouth as he looked at you. “Yeah, it really did.” Jongseob said as he slid the books across to you, “I guess I’ll…return these now.” He said with an expression you couldn’t quite place.

You took the books back with a smile, making quick work of scanning them as you spoke. “I hope my picks weren’t too boring, but…in terms of most ‘important’, those are definitely a must.”

He stood with a hand on his neck, staring at you with pursed lips as you finished scanning his books. “Is there…a section where I can find more…?”

Your eyes brightened as you looked up at him, processing his question before feeling a smile come across your face. “More? Ah…well, the classic literature shelf. That’s where these came from.”

If you weren’t reading him so intensely, you wouldn’t have noticed the red tinge of color on his complexion, as he ran a hand through his hair. “Could you show me where?”

It was such a simple request, but it made your body stutter, almost as if you were nervous. When really, this was simply another visitor of the public library who it was your job to help. There was really no need to be nervous. I mean, he was just a guy with a grunge look to him (and not importantly, a flustered mess) that came in looking like a problem, but turned out to be one of the most recipient and easiest people to converse with. Nothing special.

“Yeah! I can show you!” You said as you stood up, going around the counter to motion at Jongseob to follow you.

When he had reached you and you began to lead him, he was taller than you expected, reaching over you only a little, but enough for it to be noticed. But not important. Also unimportantly, he smelled clean with a certain musk to him, in a good way. Again, Unimportant.

Jongseob followed the few feet with his hands in his pockets, stopping abruptly just next to you as you stood in front of the beefy shelf with your hands spread out. “This is it! I can leave you to it.” You said, turning your head right to look at him, hitting ridiculously large brown eyes boring into you. “Or…help you, if you want…”

Jongseob looked at the shelf for a moment, without looking your way, speaking up. “I never got your name.”

That shouldn’t have made your heart momentarily race, but alas, it did. You kept your eyes on him as you answered, your hands hidden behind your back. “Oh…sorry! It’s y/n.”

He kept his eyes scanning over the many options, but it didn’t feel like he was looking at the books. More like he didn't yet want to look at you. He contemplated with himself for a moment, before quietly yet loud enough for you to hear, he spoke. “Y/n….”

“Show me your favorites.”

★彡

The weeks that followed were something of a blur. When Jongseob had returned home from his first visit to the library, he sprawled on the ground, just staring at his books. It was insane to him that he had walked in with the intention to boost his pride, but now that was the last thing on his mind.

All he could think about was a stupid side braid, glasses, and voice that shouldn’t have been running in his head that much.

Sometimes, you meet people who intrigue you so much that you want to talk to them endlessly, about anything and everything. But, that meant having the courage to engage in a conversation of that sort. Jongseob thought he was strong enough to fight past the initial nerves, but after his performance in the library, he clearly was not.

Besides, what would he talk to you about? He doubted you were interested in hearing about his douche band or the stupid thing he and his friends had done recently. Overall, he was certain it was a lost cause.

Jongseob sat up faster than ever when he realized something. Surely, a librarian would love to talk about books. And he had two in his possession that you had just recommended.

Suddenly, it seemed he had the motivation to sit himself down and force his eyes to take in every word of every page of the books you had recommended. And surprisingly, it was….not too bad? Animal Farm was a heck of an allegory (whatever that was) and The Great Gatsby used more big words than he thought was necessary, but managed to intrigue him nonetheless.

Jongseob made a point to b-line for the library as soon as he was finished to report back to you. After a conversation he’d never imagine he would have, he knew he was crazy. And not about the books.

It didn’t seem fair to him that someone could have such a comfortable voice when they spoke about something they liked, a perfect pink color when they seemed flustered, or an addictive crease of their eyes whenever they smiled.

He knew then he was going to be seeing much more of that library. (You.)

He took one recommendation after the next, to Of mice and men, The Picture of Dorian Gray, The Adventures of Huckleberry Finn, The Metamorphosis, The Stranger, and whatever else he had read that he already lost track of.

With every book, he asked himself why he had always deemed he hated reading, when it’s actually not all that bad. The books were interesting, and even more so when he thought about the effort and creativity into writing one. He figured it wasn’t much different than music or performing (or graffiti art), someone has a vision and sees it through. Books were just an amped up version of that.

He was reading books front to back so often that he was seeing you frequently. So often you could tell it was him by the way the doors closed softer than usual, his clunky shoes and rattling chains echoing before you could even see him. So often he knew what your exact schedule was, when it was the best time to see you. So often that everytime he came, grinning with that snaggletooth, it made your whole face warm in a fuzzy feeling. So often that you’d recommend the shorter books you knew he would fly through easier, so he would come back sooner.

And when reading a whole book and returning it wasn’t frequent enough, he started to come in just to ask you about whatever part he’s read so far. He was hesitant at first, because surely you would know by that point that there was more to it than just expanding his literary knowledge. Yet, when he came in and asked you to explain a chapter of The Metamorphosis, catching you as you were busy stashing books back on their respective shelves, you stared at him blankly for a few seconds.

He was certain you were weirded out to your core, but then that candy pink glow was back, and you smiled down at the floor before looking at him with these stupidly big brown eyes.

“Do you actually have a question, or did you just want to talk to me?”

Jongseob’s breath hitched, and surely he looked pathetic as he clammily fumbled with the book in his hands, his entire body on fire.

“Can’t it be both?”

There was no library big enough to fit all the books he would read just to see your face light up as you talked about the things you loved, which he quickly came to know were more than just books. You also liked listening to music (not the kind his band makes, which totally didn’t hurt his feelings), taking strolls through the city while listening to said music, thrifting for clothes at second hand stores and loving finding pieces that remind you of ‘grandma clothing’, and stargazing. One of your favorite spots being the grassy hill in town that was barely tall enough that if you angled yourself in just the right position, you couldn’t see the bustling streets under it, just the stars that were bright enough to shine.

Although he was hesitant at first, Jongseob opened up to you as well. He told you about his band and their hip-hop/noise music/all-over-the-place style. His love for wearing dark, layered clothes and chains. He told you about how much he likes to rap and write his own, how it’s the way he met his friends in the first place. Speaking of his friends, he let you in on the delinquency that they’re often caught up in, that he claimed he wasn’t that proud of with a smirk on his face.

As he explained to you that being dubbed the “worst” in his friend group was the reason why he picked up reading, he was nervous that you would see him differently. Up until then, although you may have had your speculations, he was just a guy with a much different aesthetic compared to yours that happened to share the same interest in books. But, he felt he knew you well enough to know that you wouldn’t criticize him like that, and he was proven right when you only giggled at the thought.

“That’s impressive, though. Really, there aren’t many people who can recognize that they need to read a little more. I’m glad they teased you for it. After all, how would we have become friends?”

Jongseob needed a long breather after you said that one. For many reasons, the most pressing, the word friends.

It excited him, but discouraged him all the same. He was pleasantly surprised that someone like you would consider him a friend, even knowing everything you got to know about him the past two months or so. He was also discouraged, because it’s exactly what he was to you.

A friend doesn’t inch closer to you as you sit on the table, just so he could take in your warmth and scent a little better. A friend doesn’t have the image of you pushing up your glasses as you talk to him imprinted in his mind. A friend doesn’t find himself zoning out on a conversation about the book he just read, taking dangerously long glances at pink lips, wondering what it would feel like if he just-

No, a friend wouldn’t do any of this. Yet that’s all you were to him.

Jongseob knows he’s not exactly the best at NOT wearing his emotion on his sleeves. You were also the smartest person he had ever known, not an idiot that would miss the psychological clues he can’t hide about how he has the fattest crush on you.

It would be one thing if you made it clear that you weren’t interested, but…you never gave that impression in the slightest. If anything, sometimes he wondered if the way your cheeks would go from shades of red and pink was for everybody, or just him. He wondered if he wasn’t actually seeing things when he swore in the corner of his eye you would stare at him until he looked back up.

These were the thoughts that had been racking his mind, running every scenario, every glance, every desire in dizzying circles. Surely, you had to have at least thought about it before, right? He didn’t know, and he wasn’t going to make a fool of himself and ruin something so great by asking you. So, he decided he would wait for a signal— whatever that was—to let him know he was actually in. In the meantime, he’d have to settle with only being your friend.

Today, he found himself in the narrow space of two tall bookshelves. Jongseob sat against one side with his legs tucked, flicking his pen back and forth through his hands as a beat poured through his headphones. Of course, you sat on the opposite side, your book propped up against your knee with that look of focus that came up every time you read. He tried not to pay attention to the way both of your legs were centimeters from touching, or else probably explode.

The both of you were waiting for the library to clear out as it closed to the public, having made plans to go to a cafe downtown. It had become somewhat of a routine to leave the library and do something fun every week. He didn’t have to wait with you, but he found that you were the type of person that even comfortable silence was enjoyable. It even made him focus better.

So, Jongseob sat engrossed in the notebook in his lap, reading over lyrics that he had written down so far and bobbing his head along. He had made pretty good progress after he finally managed to stop himself from sneaking glances at you. He was too engrossed though, to the point where he hadn’t noticed the library go even more pin silent then it already was as you and him were the only ones left. Or the way you had put your book down and were staring at him after you had called his name twice with no answer.

He noticed when your hand reached out and pulled one of his earbuds out however, and his heart nearly stopped at how gently you did it, and how closely leaned in you were as you smiled at him. “Is the song that good?” You teased.

He held his breath until you backed away, letting out a shaky exhale as the distance he was accustomed to returned, and he could finally return the grin as he took out the other earbud. “Sorry, sorry. I don’t know how I missed you.” He said as he used his ring littered hands to roll up the earbuds and put them in his bag next to him. “It’s not a song…just a beat. We wanna play a new song for the gig I told you about in two weeks but...I’ve been stumped. Couldn’t write a single lyric until now.”

You hummed in understanding, pushing a strand of hair out of your face as you tried to peek at his notebook. “Did you get a lot done?”

Jongseob nodded with a proud grin, his lips slightly pursed, holding up his notebook to show you the lyrics he had written, only his beaming eyes visible behind it.

You nodded with slightly wide eyes leaning in to skim over some of the words, and an endeared smile on your face as you looked at the doodles littered around the writing. “That’s pretty good! 2 verses there at least.” You said with a small clap as Jongseob put his notebook away as well, returning his attention back to you.

“What about you? How was your book?” He asked, tilting his head to try and read the title, which you noted looked a lot like a cat.

You handed your book to him adorned with a black cat bookmark, so he could read it himself. You were reading A Midsummer’s Night Dream. “I like it so far! It’s actually a play, remember I told you William Shakspeare is most famous for those?”

Jongseob hummed, nodding his head as he looked at you intently as you began your rant, “Yeah, the guy who wrote Romeo and Juliet, right?”

You nod as he handed you the book back, flipping through the pages carelessly as you spoke. “That’s the one. One day, we have to work you up to read one of his plays. They really are amazing. If I ever write something, I want it to be so meaningful it’s still important hundreds of years later, you know? That’s always been the dream, to say something in my writing and have so many people listen.”

Jongseob watched as you trailed off into your own thoughts as you stared down at the book, that familiar twinkle in your eye as you thought about your future, your goals, how you knew exactly what you wanted. It was one of the many things he liked about you, and at that moment it brought a strange heart-sinking feeling. He sighed as he shook himself off. “What’s it about?”

You broke out of your trance as you heard the question, perking up as started another passionate conversation. “Well, it’s a comedic play, and it’s got a lot of different themes, like magic…dreams…jealousy…but the main one is love, or how it’s difficult.”

Jongseob is suddenly paying more attention now. “Difficult?”

You nod as you search for your next words. “Mhm! The plot of the story revolves around a love potion, where the characters fall for each other based on their looks and nothing else. A main point though is when love is…out of balance. So, like a romantic relationship that is interfered with by the differences or inequalities of two people.”

Jongseob was listening to what you were saying, but his brain was processing it differently. Dissecting each and every word, and this time his face of adoration and focus on you was laced with something else you were too busy to name.

“Like… these two characters,” you continue as you talk with your hands. “Bottom and Titania. Titania is beautiful and graceful and this enigma, while Bottom is clumsy and ugly, but she still falls in love with him. Well, because of the potion, but still goes to show that imbalance. Listen to this quote, I really liked it,”

“Love looks not with the eyes, but with the mind, and therefore is winged cupid painted blind.”

Jongseob hates the way he felt, the way that he couldn’t look at you now, but there was a clear thought that invaded his mind and kept eating away at it. He stayed quiet and solemn long enough for you to notice, and as soon as you went to ask him if he was alright, he beat you to it.

“I’m…your friend, right? You like me?”

There was a pin drop silence added to the already dead silent library, but it was loud. All Jongseob could hear was the blood rushing through his head as he looked at your confused and wide eyes.

Your expression twisted slightly in confusion as you looked at him, swallowing before answering. “What? Of…of course I like you. You’re my friend.”

Jongseob’s knuckles went white as he gripped his bag tight. You had seen many emotions on his expressive face, but never this, never one that looked so defeated.

You could barely process what that meant as he stood up, throwing his bag on his back as he looked down at you. “I have to go. Sorry, Y/n.”

He started walking away before you could even register it, sliding your book off your lap as hurriedly stumbled to your feet, staring at his back with nothing but a sinister mixture of confusion and frustration. “Seob, wait! What happened?” You questioned, your voice raising the loudest it ever has in that room.

A part of you wanted to go after him, grill him and insist that he told you what was wrong, what made him feel that way. But Jongseob was already exiting the door, too fast to even consider it, and something told you he wouldn’t tell you anyway.

Since you met Jongseob, all you had been met with was a cheeky smile and a rosy fluster, all your favorite images of him. This time however, the only one that ran through your mind was the way he had just looked at you.

Like he had lost something.

★彡

monday, 8:34pm

y/n (˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶): hi jongseob. i haven’t seen you since sunday. you left pretty upset. if you need to talk, you know you’re always welcome

wednesday, 10:09am

y/n (˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶): good morning seob, please remember my last message. you know what times i’ll be here

friday, 11:08pm

y/n (˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶): at least let me know that you’re alright.

It was a pretty standard Saturday night. Jongseob’s friends in the upstairs of Theo’s home, probably eating pizza or pregaming for a party, Jongseob and Shota sprawled on the bean bag chairs, blasting music.

The only difference might be the big fat book in Jongseob’s hands.

He doesn’t know why he’s still reading, when he had given up on ever having a chance with you. Yet here he was, Sense and Sensibility on its 162nd page, even rejecting Shota’s advances to play Mario Kart instead.

The last time he had seen you, something that he had been trying to avoid so long had dawned on him. He liked you. So much. To the point where sometimes it was debilitating. Likely chances were that you could possibly like him as well.

That wasn’t what he had been avoiding, however. Jongseob was very certain of that fact. He realized why he was only ever going to be your friend. You were just like Tatania—or whatever her name was—smart, goal oriented, knew what you wanted, and god. So, so beautiful.

Meanwhile, Jongseob was just that other guy. Sure, maybe he wasn’t the ugliest, he likes to think he does pretty well for himself. He also wasn’t terribly clumsy like the character from the play.

In real life however, he was a total failure in your light. Getting high on the weekends and drifting around with his friends for the hell of it. Holding onto this false idea of being able to make a band work as a career one day. And although it is a long, complicated, and layered story, he had in fact been in the back of a cop car once.

The both of you were a real life version of a love “out of balance.” Hearing those words verbalized by you without you even realizing it had shattered down all the walls he put up attempting to mask that very truth.

The way you had spoken about love being about the mind was another deafening blow. It would make sense that someone like you would want someone sophisticated, well spoken, mature. No, it was what you deserved.

It had dawned on him that he probably wasn’t any of these things to you.

He had to leave that day. Had he not, he would have broken down on the spot. So he did what he felt was right, and valiantly exited out.

Or at least, he thinks it’s right. He doesn’t know. He’s read your messages, wondered how you must be feeling, and he becomes conflicted all over again.

Like now, when the mere recollection of the events of the past week had caused him to groan and flop back, shutting his book as he looked over at Shota, eyes glued to the TV with a disposable weed pen and the switch controller in his hands.

He sighed as he sat back, staring at the book in his lap. The words were too big anyway, and there was a lot going on that he needed help dissecting. Knowing just the person who could help made it ten times worse

He didn’t know if he had made the right choice. The only thing certain is that he hardly deserved you as a friend. Let alone a lover.

Jongseob sighed before sitting up straighter, putting his book on the table next to him, his arms on his knees. “Shota, let me borrow your pen.”

Shota glanced over at Jongseob quickly, before turning back to the Mario Kart screen to pause it. Then, looking back at Jongseob again with an Incredulous look on his face. He put down his controls, before turning around and cupping his face, screaming, “Steph!!! Come down here!!”

As Shota turned back to Jongseob, Jongseob gave him a look of annoyance and confusion, to which the other boy only shrugged and continued his game.

Keeho came down the stairs mere moments later, scanning the basement until it landed on both boys. “What is it, Sho?”

“Jongseob’s trying to get high out of his mind again.” Shota said, not once taking his eyes off the screen.

Jongseob groaned as Keeho walked up to them, throwing his head back in annoyance. “All of a sudden everyone’s trying to be saints.”

Keeho sighed as he sat on a stool, shaking his head at him. “And you’re trying to be dead. Theo told me you’ve been loitering around down here getting high all damn week with that book.” He said, nodding to Jane Austen’s novel on the table. “Something’s up.”

Jongseob sighed, averting his gaze from Keeho to the Mario Kart screen. “Nothing is up. I just… wanna get high more. That’s all.”

Keeho rolled his eyes, boring them right back into Jongseob. “Last time you felt like that turns out you were sulking over that stupid game you play. Spill.”

Jongseob shook his head in a soft motion, looking down at the floor. “It’s nothing. It’s stupid.”

Keeho stayed quiet for a moment, before speaking up again. “So…it’s a girl.”

Jongseob buried his hands in his face, hearing the game of Mario Kart pause once again as four eyes bored into him now. “God…why do you always jump to the furthest conclusion?”

Keeho scoffed, shaking Jongseob by the shoulders a bit. “But I didn’t this time. It’s a girl. You think we don’t notice how you disappear for hours? Try to dress nicer, wear cologne? Read those books?”

Jongseob rubbed his eyes, looking at the ceiling, sighing in defeat. He had reached a point where he couldn’t deny it even if he tried with the way Shota and Keeho were burning holes into him. Even if he was able to, there was something strangely comforting about his cover being blown. Like he was given the chance to at least get a small weight off his chest.

“Maybe…there is a girl.” Jongseob murmured, his hand tracing down his eyes as they fluttered shut and all he could see was you.

“Don’t leave out anything.” Keeho said, leaning in closer to make sure he heard every word. It was rare that Jongseob was ever this distraught.

Jongseob didn’t even know where to begin, how to cover everything he had felt in the past few months. So, he simply decided to let his thoughts blurt out in whatever order they came in, and go from there. “She…She’s perfect.”

His breath went on shaky as his scramble of words continued. “She works at the library. I only met her because all of you made fun of me, saying I’m the biggest slack and idiot, I needed to prove that wrong. I was only supposed to read one or two books. But…she was there. So smart and nice and god–way too pretty. How could I not like her?”

Jongseob swallowed a lump in his throat as he sat up, his head dangled to the ground. “So I just kept reading so I could talk to her. And it wasn’t bad, I liked it. I liked her more. We became friends eventually, and I kept telling myself…maybe I had a chance. We spent so much time together, got along well, so maybe…she’d like me back one day.”

“I was with her last sunday and I just stormed out. I just…I realized that I can never be more than just her friend. I just can’t.”

Keeho and Shota exchanged glances as they processed his words, with the latter finally speaking as he cleared his throat. “So she rejected you?”

Jongseob shook his head with a frustrated sigh, his emotions whirling faster the more he had to relive this. “No, no. I haven’t even officially told her that I like her.”

The room was quiet a little longer, the silence heavy and brooding as the other two in the room were confused. Keeho breathed in and out before speaking. “So…why can you never be more than her friend?”

If Jongseob had 10% more of a problem with anger issues, or if it was in his nature, he’d get up and yell it in their faces. He didn’t though, and he didn’t have the energy to make it a grand thing either. So, his words could only be described as a pathetic, whiny, ramble.

“You won’t get it. Unless you know her like I do. She’s so kind…even to someone like me. The smartest person I’ve met. She’s got such a drive, determination, and knows what she wants in the future. The prettiest girl I’ve ever seen. She’s perfect. And me? I smoke and drink and I do stupid shit when I’m with you guys. I’m in a band thinking I’ll make it far in life that way. And even though it’s gotten better now, I must be the dumbest guy on earth. You guys were right, I really had never picked up a book. And as much as I try to match her, I won’t get there. She’s perfect, and I’m not even average. Not even good.”

If he could exit his body and slap himself for laying out all of his insecurities, he would. It was too late now, however. So it wouldn’t hurt anyone for Jongseob to say everything he had been wanting to.

“It’s not that we can’t be anything more than friends. Who knows, maybe we could. It’s just that I don’t deserve to be anything more with her.”

It was all embarrassing for Jongseob. The silence of Keeho and Shota, the way that whole monologue sounded somehow even more pathetic aloud than in his head, the way he couldn’t look anyone in the eye. He thought to himself this is why he didn’t say anything from the beginning.

“All that stuff I said about you being ‘the worst’ of us all, do you really believe it?”

Jongseob looked up from the floor, finding Shota had scooted closer, and Keeho was looking at him with a sincerity he rarely got from his friends as they had always been lighthearted with each other.

“I mean…it makes sense. I kind of am.”

Keeho sighed, rubbing the back of his neck with a shake of his head. “First of all, I was blasted out of my mind when I said that. You know we shouldn’t take any of each other’s words seriously by that point.” Keeho explained with a scolding look in his eye. “Second of all, you are not some lowlife drifter, Seob. Well…maybe on occasion, you are. But you know what you also are? The youngest.”

Jongseob was looking at him with questioning eyes, his lip caught in his teeth as he listened to his older friend speak.

“Jongseob, you’re only 19. I can assure you, Theo and I were doing much worse at that age. Sure, you get into some trouble, enjoy some things you shouldn’t enjoy,” Keeho said, as he looked over to grab the disposable in Shota’s hand and pocket it away. “But that doesn’t take away from the good qualities that landed you five friends that see you as family. You may be rough around the edges, but deep down you’re a good kid. You’re nice when it counts, passionate about the things you like. Total cutie, too. Right, Sho?”

Jongseob searched Keeho’s face for any deceit, finding none. He was only more reassured when he looked over to Shota, finding him nodding eagerly.

“And trust me, you have all the time in the world to grow into that identity and retire that delinquent title. And I know you will when you’re ready.” Keeho said, a small smile on the corner of his lips. “So don’t push what sounds like an amazing girl away because you’re still figuring your shit out. Who knows, she probably sees the same things in you that we do. If she’s as nice and smart as you say she is, she’ll hold her own against a jerk like you if that’s what she wants. You deserve it just as much as any other asshole.”

It was always strange how his friends had the power to turn Jongseob’s mood in a complete 180. Because now he was smiling, and suddenly the cloud of moodiness and a sour mix of emotions hovering over him the past few months had started to clear, and the words Keeho had said made much more sense than Jongseob’s little outburst.

“Shota…Hyung…Thank you. I needed someone to tell me that.” Jongseob said, taking a deep breath as he sat up straight.

Keeho smiled, reaching over to fluff up Jongseob’s blonde hair. “You still have a problem, though. Have you talked to her since sunday?”

The momentarily lifted weight off Jongseob’s shoulders returned once again, and he sighed as he rubbed his eyes. “Fuck. I haven’t. I doubt she wants anything to do with me at this point.”

Keeho shook his head as he stood up, grabbing Jongseob by his shoulders. “No, shut up. You can still fix it, it just has to be now.”

Jongseob looked up at him with his eyebrows in a furrow. “Now? As in…right now?”

Shota took the keys out of his pocket, throwing them over to Jongseob. “Take the car.”

Keeho dragged Jongseob to his feet, throwing a nearby hoodie at him as he grabbed him like a coach talking to his quarterback before the game. “Don’t think about it. Just go. Before it’s too late.”

Jongseob could barely process throwing the hoodie on, his blonde hair messy as he was pushed out of the house by Keeho and Shota, and suddenly he was driving.

Jongseob had a new mindset, but his palms were sweating, sliding around on the steering wheel. He knew he needed to see you, but he wasn’t sure what he would say. He told himself it had to be the truth, and only the truth. It was what you deserved. All he had to do was find you now.

He drove by the library, but as he glanced at the time, it was already 7:30. It had been closed for half an hour, and it looked completely locked up already.

He tapped his fingers on the steering wheel, asking himself where you could be. His eyes lit up as he remembered something, the car making a quick U-turn as he drove the direction he had just come from.

Mere minutes later, he pulled into the parking lot of the local park, making swift work of stumbling out and locking the car behind him. Jongseob started walking towards the back of the park, his legs tiring out as he started slowly going uphill. The city’s best spot for stargazing, the one you loved.

Even though he wasn’t sure you’d be there, he kept going anyway. It was a pretty good guess, and it proved to be right as more stars and less city came into view, and you sat there with your legs close to your chest as you looked up.

As he reached the top, a foot came down too loud, loud enough for it startle you out of your thoughts. You turned around initially anxious, almost immediately standing up, but your face softened once you made it out to be him. “Jongseob? What are you doing here?”

He took a couple quick breaths as he stood in front of you, breathless for many different reasons and taking in the face he had missed seeing. “Looking for you.” He said quietly, his eyes starstruck.

“I haven’t heard from you in a while…what happened? Are you alright?”

Jongseob sighed, nodding his head as he pursed his lips. “I can’t believe I ghosted you for a week and you’re still worried about me. I’m fine, Y/n. I just had to sort through some things.”

“I’m just worried about what happened the last time we saw each other. You left pretty angry, I don’t know if I said or did something.” You said, your hands clammy as you played with them, looking up at him.

Jongseob was just frustrated now, his hands falling to his sides. “No, god, no. You could never do anything wrong.”

Your insistence continued. “It had to have been something. Was it the friend thing? Because I-..” is all you managed to get out, before suddenly a palm was pressed against your mouth.

Jongseob was only left with the option of looking into your eyes, the ones always so big and vibrant and currently weren’t helping the nerves coursing through his body. “You did nothing wrong. I’m the stupid one.”

He slowly pulled his hand back, looking for the courage within himself as he looked at you. Confused, Anxious, probably shivering a bit, wearing a jacket way too light for the time of night. So beautiful. As if you only got prettier the more he looked and if he kept looking he was bound to die a blissful death. He finally took a deep breath, he couldn’t take it anymore.

“You know, I like you, right? So much. As in way more than a friend?”

Your face flushed red, a tint seen even with how dark it was. You swallowed before answering. “Um…I had…an idea.”

He chuckled as he looked at his shoes quickly looking back up to make his eyes meet yours again. “I have ever since I first met you. I like you so much you made me finish a chapter book for the first time in years.”

“That day, when you were talking about that Shakespeare play, I couldn’t stop thinking about how it sounded just like us. Like we were that one out of balance couple. We’re so…different. It made me think, It could never work.

Jongseob was quiet for a moment, choosing his words carefully. “Compared to you, I’m a total doof. I’ve only barely started reading, I like to do dumb things with other dumb people. I skip college to write dumb songs with my friends, and I never figured out what I want to be when I grow up. And to me, you’re so perfect in every way imaginable. My complete polar opposite.”

Jongseob stepped closer, without even realizing it, his eyes big and pleading. “Maybe we are out of balance, maybe every norm or tradition or whatever isn’t in line with this. I realized now that I don’t mind. If you’d let me, I’d do everything to make it work. To show you that no matter how out of balance, it could work. I don’t care if it doesn’t make sense, all the best things never do.”

Your lips quivered a bit, looking at him with your whole body hot. Never in your life did you think you would be living out a love story that you could only fathom reading over and over. And not with the unruly grunge guy that had walked in the library months ago that you had pining for since.

You wiped your sweaty hands on your clothes, swallowing before you started talking. “A midsummer’s night dream was also about…how love looks with the mind, not the eyes.” You began, your voice a little shaky as you tried your best to look him in the eye. “Since I met you…I knew behind the exterior and the stuff you usually get into, you were a good person.”

You smiled as you recalled the first time he came in. “You’re always so expressive, I can read every emotion off your face. You’re curious, always asking questions. Patient, kind, passionate, charismatic. I could keep going, but all this to say,”

“I wouldn’t like you too if I didn’t think we went well together, despite all the differences.”

Jongseob took another step forward, and swears that even if you pinched him, he still wouldn’t believe any of this is real. The way that you looked at him with an adoration and warmth that had always been there. The way the wind slightly rustled your hair and his, proving that the both of you were here. Finally, he spoke softly. “You’re serious?”

You giggled a bit, nodding as you held both of your hands out. “I’m very serious. I like you a lot.”

He took your hands, looking down at them with incredulous brown eyes. They were softer than he could’ve made them out to be in any daydream. Gulping, he asked a question he had been dying to ask since that very first day.

“Y/n…please, can I kiss you?”

His lips were on yours before you knew it. And much to your surprise, it tasted a lot like a fruit punch.

☆彡

It had been a week since you and Jongseob had made up, and consequently a week since you started dating. After he had driven you home, he hurriedly popped the question as he hung out the passenger side window, like if he didn’t ask at that moment, there’d never be another chance. And of course, you agreed.

Today was your first date, which ended up being the show he and his band were playing. You stuck out like a sore thumb in a crowd of people dressed just like your boyfriend and his friends, the best outfit you could muster being a brown sweater and a denim skirt with doc martens.

You had never been to a small local show, but the energy from the crowd and the band, the setlist and the lights, everything tied together into being an enjoyable first experience.

You and Jongseob were now gathered around him and his rowdy friends at the back of the venue. You initially were only there to meet his friends, but it turned into a hangout of sorts. A few drinks and cigarettes caused a cheery conversation as they rode through an after show high.

You and Jongseob sat on a step with you watching as he and Shota played a game of cards. Shota kept beating him, even as you tried to whisper tips in his ear.

After a while, it was getting late, and after sitting for some time, you were a bit tired. Your head leaning on his shoulder as your energy started to dial down. On top of that, you also had to go to the bathroom.

You tapped Jongseob’s hand, whispering in his ear. “Can you come with me to the bathroom?”

Jongseob nodded, handing his cards to Shota as he shot up, giving you a hand. “Course. I’ll be back, guys.”

He took your hand, leading you through the empty venue, all the way to the bathroom, where he waited outside for you to be finished.

He smiled at you as you came out, noting the slightly more tired smile he got back from you. He put his hand out, wanting you to come closer. “I’m sorry. You’re tired. I’m the designated driver for some of these guys, though.”

You took his hands, pulled into a hug as his hands settled on your waist. “It’s okay,” you told him, your hand reaching up to pinch his cheek. “I get it.”

He chuckled at you, his eyes full of love and a completely smitten look. “I never got to tell you that you look really pretty today.”

His compliment sent a shiver down your spine, every word of endearment being so new still. “I didn’t get to tell you that you looked really good on stage tonight.”

It was Jongseob’s turn to be flustered as his cheeks washed pink, and like he had been doing since he first got a feel for them, he couldn’t stop looking at your lips. “Can I kiss you?”

You giggled, your hand already resting on his face in preparation. “I told you, you don’t have to ask.”

He titled his head, leaning closer as he smirked down at you. “Gotta be a gentleman, right?”

His lips came down on yours soft at first, softly molding them onto his as he got a feel for them. You swear he was trying to memorize every crevice and curve. But, as you put your hands over his own that laid on your waist, dragging them up and down in permission to let him feel, the air shifted.

He gasped shakily on your mouth, in such a needy way that shouldn’t have made your body go hot. He took the reigns of letting his hands run up from your sides all the way down to plump skin that drove him crazy being able to touch.

It wasn’t long before both of your tongues had made their way to each other, and suddenly it was evident to both of you there was something entirely different about this kiss. His hands were all over you, and yours tracing patterns on his chest and arms. There was a newfound lust in this one that both of you couldn’t deny

Yeah, this was different. If it wasn’t clear from the way you were pressing into him. And when you pressed too hard, he let out a soft moan in your mouth that shook you to your core.

He pulled away abruptly, his hands on your shoulders as he stared at you breathless, with new pink lips and a need in his eyes.

You wanted to complain about the distance, but before you could, he was fishing for his car keys in his pocket, his other hand intertwining with yours. “Let’s go to my house.”

Your eyebrows contorted, looking him up and down. “Why? You still have to drive your friends home.”

“They’ll figure it out.” He said, finally pulling out his keys and jangling them in front of you. “Besides…,I can’t fuck you here.”

Your heart skipped a beat as he started pulling you out, but you followed him wordlessly. His friends noticed quickly as you both walked out, Jongseob with a mission to get you to his house as soon as he could. One of them called out—Intak if you remember correctly—noting the way he didn’t stop. “Seob! Where are you going? How do we get home?”

“Get an Uber!” He yelled without looking back, as you turned around and mouthed a small ‘Sorry!’ with a wave.

Jongseob wasted no time in opening the door for you and driving off as soon as you were buckled in. The car pulled out of its parking spot and his hand almost instinctively found its way to your thigh, rubbing the exposed skin your skirt showed in a way that he had to know was making you squirm.

The drive was agonizingly slow, his hand kept running down and getting dangerously close to where you were starting to yearn for him. “Are we…almost there?” You asked a little breathless only a few minutes in, although it had felt like hours.

Jongseob glanced over at you quickly, swallowing thickly at the sight of you clearly impatient for what was to come. “Soon, Y/n. Just a little longer, angel.”

He made it a point to go faster, as fast as he could without it being borderline dangerous. When he finally reached his house, the tires quietly screeched with how fast he pulled in, and the car was off and in park before you could blink.

His hand disconnected from your thigh, and already his absence was felt. He barely made it around to open your door as you stumbled out as well.

“My parents are asleep.” Jongseob announced, as he led you to the doorstep. You kept a grab on his jacket as he fumbled with his house keys. The more desperate he got, the harder it was to get them to function.

Eventually, the door opened quietly, and he used the same quietness to lock it behind you. After you had both discarded your shoes, with a swift motion his hand was in yours again as he plopped his keys on the table, leading you to his room.

His room was so unbelievably him. Scattered with posters of his favorite rock and indie bands, the biggest being a ‘Plastic Beach’ by the Gorillaz in the dead center. Messy and dark bedding, his gaming consoled all over. What had caught your eyes first, was the book you had just checked out to him, neatly stacked on his nightstand.

His room—that smelled only a little like weed—was the least of your concern, however. Not when he plopped himself on his bed, immediately pulling you on his lap to straddle on top of him as his lips crashed onto yours.

His hands only had gotten more adventurous, his whines less and less contained as his tongue immediately found yours again.

You felt like you were heaving into the kiss, it was all too much. The way his mouth danced with yours, your hands grabbing onto his neck, his own gripping at your ass in a way that made you question if this was your boyfriend. Too much, yet you wanted so much more.

Jongseob had started tugging at the hem of your sweater, but before he did anything, he pulled away from the kiss, a string of saliva between you both. He looked up at you doe-eyed and out of breath, the sight ethereal. “Do you want this? I’ll stop right now if you don’t.”

You couldn’t have nodded faster, your hips starting to move on their own. “Yeah, of course I do. Please, Seob.”

Jongseob didn’t need to hear anything else as his hands started to get rid of your sweater, swiftly throwing off his own shirt afterwards. All you were left in was your bra, but he didn’t so much as glance, he couldn’t until he knew you were fine. “You need to tell me if you ever want to stop, Y/n.”

You nodded as his hands finally went to your back, fumbling with the clasps of your bra for a moment before you reached back, helping him get it off faster.

As it was thrown with the rest of the clothes, his eyes glazed over you, his face hot. Something in his expression that looked like he wanted to consume you. “Fuck…Y/n. You’re perfect. So, so perfect.” Jongseob said breathlessly as his lips found your neck.

Jongseob started peppering kisses wherever his heart desired, his hands reaching up to hesitantly cup your chest. “This okay?” He breathed against you, with you only giving him a shaky ‘yeah’ in response.

His touch felt like a trail of fire, and every kiss, every squeeze, brought a soft moan from your boyfriend, his thoughts spilling out in soft chants. “My Y/n…so perfect…so pretty.”

The kissing, the hickeys, the squeezing, it was all euphoric. But with every bit he gave you, you only needed more. Jongseob was too entranced in feeling your every curve to notice. It was only when your hips rolled into him on their lonesome that he was brought to life, a whine leaving his mouth.

You tried catching your breath before looking him in the eye, your heart beating out of its place. “Jongseob…please…I really…need you.”

If everything hadn’t driven him off the edge by now, your pleading did, and he nodded as he reached down for the zipper of your skirt, wasting no time in fulfilling your wish. “I’m taking these off, okay angel? Lift your hips for me.”

You listened to his requests, your lip caught in your teeth as the both of you worked on getting off your pants and the panties that you had soaked through long ago.

Jongseob looked at you as his hand reached down, placing a soft kiss on your lips as you finally felt his hand on your throbbing cunt. “Let me know if I need to stop. I need to prep you first.”

Your face was buried in the crook of his neck as his hand explored you, and despite not having the most experience, he learned quickly. His thumb found your bundle of nerves, tracing soft circles as he listened and studied your every reaction, his free hand roaming up and down your back. It was only a matter of seconds before he found your entrance, already slick with arousal as he inserted one finger in, pressing and running it against your walls.

“Does that feel good?” He asked softly.

You wondered why he even had to ask, especially when you were practically melting in his arms, your body shivering. “It does.” You said in a pant, your desperate voice going straight in his ear and down to his core.

“I’ll do another.” He announced, inserting a second finger.

He kept his thumb on your clit, continuing those small circles, as he moved his two fingers to press and pump them in and out of you, spreading them wider to loosen you up from time to time. As he did, he continued watching and listening to your quiet moans and sounds of pleasure, sounds that told him he was doing something right.

You were a mess at that point, your body even pressing down into him as he became more rigorous. “Seob…it feels good.”

Jongseob placed a kiss on your head, the sight of you falling apart over him driving him insane. “I know, Y/n. I know, angel. You’re doing good.”

It only took a little longer before your body started to tremble, your walls contracting over his fingers, and Jongseob knew you were close. He pulled his hand away, leaving you whining as you sighed. “Seob…” You begged, “Why’d you stop?”

He leaned in to kiss your forehead, his cheeks red with all the blood rushing through him. “Sorry, angel. I want us to cum together.”

That was a request you couldn’t deny him, and you held onto him tight as he leaned over to open his dresser, pulling out a condom Jiung had given him for ‘emergencies.’ He’d definitely have to explain that to you later.

He held the condom between his teeth as he reached for his belt buckle, pulling it off as you used your knees to hover above him, helping him pull them off. When his dick was finally out, it was leaking at the tip, painfully hard due to everything that had just happened.

Jongseob ripped the condom with his teeth, and you took the rubber to place it on yourself. He gulped at the sight, his breath growing shakier the more excited he got. “Are you sure you’re okay with this?”

Once it was on, you situated yourself just above him, his hands finding your hips. “I told you, Seob. I’m sure.” You said, leaning in to place a soft yet deep kiss on his lips.

You grabbed onto his shoulders as he smiled up at you. “We’ll go as slow as you need.”

You didn’t want to wait anymore, neither of you did. Slowly, you sank down onto him, Jongseob helping guide you all the way. Taking the tip and going further, his sounds growing more and more pathetic as he bottomed out, the both of you stifling moans.

He threw his head back in an overwhelmed state, his chest heaving. “Fuck…You okay?” He asked, noting the way the corner of your eyes pricked with tears.

“I’m okay, Seob. Just give me a minute, s’too much.” You breathed, your hands tugging a little at his hair.

Jongseob nodded, his body trembling for friction as he held you down on him. “God…it’s…you’re….so tight around me.”

A few moments later, the weird pressure had subsided, and all the both of you wanted was to move. Jongseob looked both as if he was nervous to hurt you and the feeling of you was too much. It didn’t stop you from rolling your hips, though, looking at him with a look that told him everything he wanted to know.

Jongseob shuddered at your sudden movement, taking the hint to start moving. He helped lift your hips up and down onto him, all while your body involuntarily rolled into him by itself.

The pace picked up, and so did the pleasure. In this position, every subtle movement had his dick reaching as deep as it could go, making your brain go foggy and your moans threaten to get louder. Jongseob wasn’t any better. Every time he dragged against your gummy walls, every roll of your hips, his mind would go blank, and all he could do was place small kisses on your neck. “Y/n…feels so good…way too good.”

You had to bite down on your lip. Not only was he fucking you right, he was whining all the way through it. Going crazy at the feeling, at the way you made him feel. And it only instilled a desire in you to go even harder as you started to bounce up and down on him.

Jongseob’s breath hitched, and he had to bite down on your neck at your sudden movements. “Sh…Shit. Y/n, you can’t do that.” He said through pants, the sound only fueling your fire.

“Can’t stop.” You moaned a little too loud in his ear.

All inhibitions in the both of you had snapped by then. You kept riding him like it was never enough, Jongseob’s hands and lips touching everywhere, all of you, and he could barely keep the both of you up.

It wasn’t long before that familiar pit bubbled in your stomach, and this time Jongseob felt your walls clench around him. You were close, your movements sloppier and your pants and moans erratic.

Jongseob wasn’t far off himself, and he held onto the smallest part of your back as he helped you get there. “Cum, Y/n, My perfect girl. Do it on me. Please.”

His words and the look of lust on his face was all that you needed to finally get there, stifling your sounds in his neck as your whole body reached an impossible high.

Jongseob reached his own climax as you rode out yours, his hips rolling into yours one last time as you had the pleasure of hearing all of his heightened whines and gasps right in your very ear.

His body gave out, and unable to hold up the both of you, falling onto his bed as he slipped out of you.

As you both came to your senses, catching your breaths and reliving everything that had just happened, you scooted off of him, only your head lying on his chest as you listened to his slowing heartbeat.

Jongseob was the first to break the silence with a giggle.

You sat up a bit, looking at the smirk on his face. “What?”

“Nothing, Y/n. It’s stupid.”

“Just really glad I finally started reading.”

#p1harmony #p1harmony fanfic #p1harmony fluff #p1harmony smut #kim jongseob #fanfic #kpop #jongseob x reader

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