chenlestarz

[chenlestarz]

  ⠀ ── ୨♡୧⠀ dream when they want to kiss you !

guys... library

jeno. “cute.” just kissing him and pretending to go back to your thing isn't gonna work with him. he already has his arm around your waist and his fingers exerting gentle pressure when he makes you abruptly retrace your steps to collide his mouth with yours. good luck next time.

jaemin. “kiss me again.” dazed, surprised, lethargic. has he imagined it? it happened so fast that he couldn't even take it in, just his cheeks getting hot and his hands going after you when you pull away because he definitely wants it to last longer, and this time, he wants to appreciate the shape of your lips with his.

renjun. aside from the fact that his gaze is fixed on your mouth as you speak, you're pretty sure he's not hearing a single word of what you're saying. he doesn't even hide it. yet you won't stop talking, huh?, maybe he can steal a kiss from you while you scold him that he's not paying attention to you, when the reality is, he can't see past you.

haechan. “c'mere.” can you blame him? he's just trying not to lose his composure, now it seems that he hasn't even flinched at all. he lets out a silly giggle. well, you look annoyed, and he can't help but chuckle; you look adorable. a little resistance is no opponent for him; he has that cool face you hate when he kisses you back, and now you know that's how you properly kiss someone.

jisung. “stop playing with me.” he's a fool. and a loser. why does he feel so defenseless with you? the way you grin after makes you look a little evil, are you playing with him? he doesn't know. oh, the big words he wants to pronounce. he just can't. you're not being sincere, are you? if he kisses you again if his hands are wrapped around yours and he puts them on his neck as before, if he brings his lips close to you, will he be able to know? will you know?

chenle. that little act that you play looking like you don't know what he means attracts him even more. you want to kiss him. badly. or maybe for the whole time, he's the one who wants to. he's dying for it. would he tell you? no. would he prove it to you? he honestly hoped that by having you so close you could hear what his heart is trying to say. but since it doesn't seem to be working, then his mouth says so. approaching yours. “kiss me. kiss me a lot.”

mark. “yes?” why do you look at him as if you're expecting something? probably a pretty bad joke he can't even think right now since he's nervous. you lean towards him and kiss his cheek. it would have been enough, don't you think? for the longest time, he's dreamed of this moment. but the more he thinks about it, the more it becomes clear. that it wasn't just his dream all this time, that him leaning over and pressing his mouth against your lips had been yours, always.

[chenlestarz]

i love being a fangirl like i can’t remember not being one and i just know i’ll turn 100 one day and still be a fangirl

[chenlestarz]

back to sleep - ldh

[a/n]: happy birthday to my gemini twin ayyy

pairing: bf!lee donghyuck x reader

[wc]: 626, short n sweet

-> cw: none, just pure fluff :)

prelude: Hyuck never got days off. Everybody knew that, especially the poor man himself, working harder than anyone you've ever known. That’s why it catches you by surprise when you wake up with him in bed next to you, making you feel like it was your birthday instead of his. TLDR: A cute, lazy morning in bed with Hyuck on his birthday.

11:59pm

You anxiously waited until midnight, a minute going by way slower than it would on a normal day. Your fingers danced over the keyboard as you prepared to hit the send button, your message already typed and ready to go.

12:00am

happy birthday baby!!! i love u so much more than words could ever express and i hope u never forget how unconditionally proud i am of u. you’re truly my full sun in a world that can be so gloomy :,) hope to celebrate with u soon my love, sleep well <3

You stay on your chat for a bit, hoping to see him typing, but you knew he was likely with his members. It didn’t upset you, as you knew they loved and cared for him just as much as you did. Content with the thought, you put your phone down, curling up into your blankets as you drifted off to sleep.

His hands were running through your hair as your head laid comfortably on his lap. He was leaning against a cherry blossom tree, the petals drifting through the wind, surrounding you both in a peaceful pink haze. “Hyuck,” you started, looking up at him. He looked ethereal, dark brown bangs resting beautifully on his honey skin—the laidback look in his eyes as he gazed down at you, albeit full of love. He didn’t answer, eyes simply boring into yours. “I love you.” you say softly. He remains still, as if he already knows, the words having no drastic effect on him.

Your eyes suddenly open, the sun beaming through your windows, casting a bright light that you assumed woke you up in addition to your dream. You dreamt of your boyfriend quite often, which he found very endearing. He’d cockily tease that he was always on your mind, though you’d never admit he was right. Despite feeling quite refreshed, you felt like you hadn’t even gone to sleep—as if time didn’t pass since your head hit your pillow.

You decide to turn to grab your phone, wanting to check the time. What you didn’t expect, when you turned, was to have a figure laying next to you. That same dark brown hair from your dream was the only thing that was visible above the covers, making you sit up in surprise, waking the man with your sudden sharp movement. “Baby…” he croaks, voice hoarse from the sudden awakening.

You furrow your brows. Was this still part of the dream? You pinch yourself, concluding that it wasn’t. “Hyuck?” you question softly. He turns to face you, now hugging your waist. “Go back to sleep,” he whines. “It’s too early to be awake.” You immediately lie back down, snuggling yourself closer to your man. You were so surprised. He was home earlier than expected, meaning you’d get to celebrate together.

“Happy birthday, baby.” you whisper into the crook of his neck, a smile adorning your face. “Thank you, honey.” he says sleepily. “Did you get my text?” you ask, clearly not reading the room. He yawns before nodding. “It was cute. Thank you again.” he puts on a tired smile, eyes still closed.

“Since you’re here, does that mean we can celebrate later?” you ask, clearly excited about the day to come. “Yes, later.” he croaks again. “I’m jet lagged. Let’s just cuddle and go back to sleep, yeah?” he asks. You nod and give him a gentle kiss, him reciprocating. “Okay, Hyuckie.” you grin, happy with the compromise. “I’m so lucky,” you coo, fingers playing with his hair like he did in your dream. “It’s not even my birthday, yet you’re surprising me.”

“I know, I’m just perfect, aren’t I?” he teases, earning a playful flick on the forehead from you.

[a/n]: literally just got home now (at 1am) and felt the urge to write smth for haechan’s birthday 🙂‍↕️ i’m dedicated to my craft. anyways, please stay tuned for partition part 2–not too sure if i’m going to give it another name yet or just call it that LMAO also i’m posting on mobile for the first time so sorry if the layout is scuffed. as always, thank u for reading ^3^

[chenlestarz]

hi!! this is my introduction post!

get to know me a little more under the cut 😛🫶🏻

hello my name is ruby and i’m 20 almost 21! (august babies rise 😛) i’m white, british & my MBTI is INFP and i have social anxiety

things i love

fall, cold weather, the colour blue, music (i cannot function without it 🙅🏻‍♀️), colouring, night time, photography, halloween & dancing!

things i don’t like

rude people, i will block you‼️

being embarrassed…like what 🧍🏻‍♀️

OKAYYY MOVING ON

i have a pretty long stan list so if i forget anyone i will add them later but off the top of my head here’s my stan list!

kpop + my biases

nct dream - chenle & renjun

nct 127 - jaehyun & haechan

ablume - ot3

itzy - yeji & chaeryeong

definitely missing artists but i’ll fix it later 🙂‍↕️

other artists i like

ariana grande my wife

sabrina carpenter

masison beer

wave to earth

katseye

olivia rodrigo

frank ocean

i’m pretty sure i won’t be writing on here just re blogging other people’s works, but if you still wanna chat/ send asks in i’ll always be happy to answer/ talk with you :) 🙂‍↕️🤍

🚨 also, although i mentioned other artists i will mainly be focusing on nct as they’re my ult group/s! 🚨

holy yap i think that’s everything but, like i said, if you wanna know more about me or my favourite artists pls don’t hesitate to send in an ask! i’m always happy to speak w people from the fandoms i’m apart of 🙂‍↕️🥹🫶🏻

[chenlestarz]

excuses, excuses ★ park jisung.

tags: park jisung x gn!reader. 450 words. fluff, drabble. just jisung being cutieful!!!

jisung, who creates a multitude of excuses solely to spend more time with you. he’d stretch the time with his bare hands, just so your date doesn’t have to end. it starts with logical reasons:

“we should get a sweet treat before i send you home,” he says, one hand on the steering wheel and the other on your thigh.

you glance at the matcha in your cup holder, “i thought the drinks counted as sweet treats?”

“well, it’s different. i kind of want ice cream.”

fair enough. a five-minute drive after, you find yourself sitting opposite him at an ice cream parlour. he took a while to choose a flavour — it took a few testers for him to decide on one. jisung even insisted for you to try out the flavours, claims that you should try something new — you suspect that he simply wants to feed you. 

on your way to the car, he comes across a convenience store and tells you he’s craving for gimbap. again, you follow, letting him hold your hand and rub circles against your thumb as he finds for his desired flavour. the raven leans his head against your shoulder as he scans rack to rack. 

“don’t you want to get your favourite?”

you feel the shake of his head against your neck, “wanna try something new.”

“right…” 

it doesn’t end there. he takes the long way home, drives a slow pace with the windows down, and finally — to jisung’s dismay — he parks in your neighbourhood. but he doesn’t unlock the door just yet. instead, he unbuckles the seatbelt and turns towards you.

“it’s a full moon and the weather’s nice outside, shall we take a walk?”

“don’t you have recording early in the morning tomorrow, baby?”

jisung’s lips pucker into a pout — just slightly, but it’s still there. a chuckle slips past your lips before you lean over to peck his. cutely, he chases your lips as you pull away, pouting even more upon seeing you laugh.

“but i really want to go on a walk with you…”

“no you don’t,” you chuckle, “you just don’t want to end our date.”

instantly, a hue of pink grazes his pale skin. caught in his lie! jisung looks away, slumping in his seat. the hopeful glint in his eyes are replaced by one of defeat.

how could you say no to that face? and so, you tilt his face with your hand,

“we shouldn’t go on a walk, ‘cause it’s already midnight and you’ll be tired. how about you stay the night, hm? you can rest and you’ll still have me.”

alas, happiness etches its presence back onto jisung’s face. he’s smiling, wasting no time to press kisses onto your cheek.

...and, the cycle continues on every date. <3

taglist (fill in the form!): @ch3rryd0ll @jenohyun @untilthesunrises @raevyng @peachysoso @peartreegarden @iliveforsmut3000 @chenlezip

[chenlestarz]

your boyfriend, donghyuck, learned your 𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄 𝐋𝐀𝐍𝐆𝐔𝐀𝐆𝐄

(⏱️)이동혁 x f!rea. ⟡ one shot, fluff, est. relationship warn. language, kiss wc1119THOU 노트 this is 100% self-indulgent

Your head cocked, a slight giggle meeting your ears. It wasn’t unlikely that your boyfriend laughed—he did it all the time in fact. However, he kept giggling to himself every couple of minutes (breaking the comfortable silence), you were starting to feel left out of the joke. 

“What’s so funny, Hyuck?” 

He hummed a moment, lifting your legs from off his lap and getting up, “Oh, nothing.”

He’d just spent the last half an hour letting you rant about your day, a couple snacks being nothing but ripped up wrappers by now, littering the top of your baby-pink blanket. 

Of course, he wasn’t laughing about what you’d just expressed. No, he was laughing at the plan he was about to enact. One he’d been cooking up throughout the entire time you’d been dating. 

He extended his hands out for you to take, “C’mon,” He instructed quietly. You jut your bottom lip out at him, soft eyes meeting his own. He found you so overwhelmingly adorable, “Baby, don’t be like that,” 

You took his hands, challenging, “Hyuck…” But before you had the chance to finish whatever thought had crossed your mind, he was pulling you up, the blanket pooling around your ankles. 

Your eyebrows creased, furthering the pout, “I was warm.” You stated simply. 

He picked it up wordlessly, wrapping it around your shoulders, “Better?” 

You shook your head, causing him to laugh again. 

Then he led you through your place, and just as you thought he was just putting your pouty-ass to bed, he veered you by the shoulders. The bathroom illuminated, your boyfriend immediately catching your eye through the mirror. His hair was slightly messy, casually, but so attractive, complimenting his features; due to this comeback, his bangs were shaggy—arguably one of your favorite looks on him. 

And don’t think you hadn’t noticed that he kept doing that weird, guilty-pleasure thing that made you swoon like a schoolgirl: ruffling his hair with his fingers or shaking it out of his eyes. Maybe it was unconscious, or maybe he’d figured you out. 

“You’re just gonna stare?” 

You huffed when he broke your concentration, the feeling of a brush being gently pushed into your hair. He de-tangled it from bottom to top, and you wondered who taught him that. 

“Why do you look so confused?” 

“You got another bitch?” You audaciously accused, “Who taught you how to brush hair like this?” 

His laughter continued, “I have a sister,” He said, now being able to fully run the bristles down your hair without it getting caught. “And, a hair stylist.” 

You hummed a moment, squinting your eyes at him through the glass. However, your mock-accusation was short lived when you caught a glimpse of the way his toned arms flexed, his slightly oversized black-tee only adding to the allure. 

God, when’d you become so down bad? Usually it was the other way around—Donghyuck praising the very ground you walked on. Usually he was the one obsessed, but there was something about his gentle, yet confident mannerisms today. His domestic actions and attentiveness. The way he wasn’t saying you needed to feel better, but was trying his hardest to make it happen. 

Actually, he always did that. Failure to notice or comfortable complacency? 

You turned, the brush comically still in the air like you hadn’t. “What’s up?” He asked, confused, “Did I hurt you? I’m sorry,” 

There was never any doubt that he loved you like the sun loves the moon, however, now you were sure. 

“No,” You assured, “You didn’t.” 

“Okay good, I really wasn’t trying to make your day wor—“ 

The words died on his tongue when your lips met his suddenly. That wasn’t like you—always cautiously calculating your every move. 

But, Donghyuck wasn’t like you at all. And, maybe that’s why it worked, because two polar magnets can’t connect. 

You heard the brush clatter to the counter behind you, fingers gripping through the blanket against your waist. He pulled you close, close enough to become one in another universe (maybe you’d like to crawl into his skin, be the very blood in his veins). 

The air wasn’t moving when you broke apart, eyes fluttering open. You’d seen him this close before, but your cheeks still tinted pink every time. “Sorry,” You whispered against him, mouths only centimeters apart still, “I don’t know why I—“

“Shut up,” A smile creased his features, and he pecked your lips again, and then your cheek, and the other one, and the side of your mouth and anything else he could reach from that proximity until you were clawing your hands at his chest, giggling. 

“I love you,” 

No shit. “I know.”

You tried to push him away, a little embarrassed at all the skinship. You didn’t do things that were too much but you did enough because that’s how your boyfriend shows love. But Donghyuck wasn’t like you in that sense; he liked over-the-top displays of affection, or so you liked to think. On the other hand, maybe it was exactly what you actually needed. 

But somewhere down the line, he met you in the middle. He kissed you absentmindedly still, reassuring you a billion times that the heart behind his ribcage was for you and only you. He listened to your worries and irritations, remembering fine details, places and peoples names. He held the door and your hand. Arms a sturdy safety-net. He reminded you he was always there by standing behind you with his head on your shoulder, arms around your waist. He changed, but only because you had as well—opening up to him slowly. 

His knees buckled the first time you rested your legs over his lap, or head on his shoulder, or hand on his leg. He swears he could’ve died when you sat by him while he played his PC games, reading quietly on your iPad, sharing your hobbies. You made him coffee in the morning, and always asked if he wanted something from the store. You even slept with your head on his chest sometimes, listening to the constant rhythm of him. It was the little things, the things you’d do without overthinking. 

And through it all, he’d finally figured you out. You weren’t complicated, you had just never been taught what love was supposed to feel like. Luckily for you, he was a great teacher. 

“Say it back.” Unfortunately (or not) he trapped you between him and the countertop. 

Donghyuck didn’t need to hear it often from you, he really didn’t, he knew you loved him. He knew he was the only one in your heart, as you were his. But sometimes a man’s gotta be selfish. 

And, in actuality, he loved talking in your love language. 

© loserlvrss 2025. 𝗿𝗶𝗴𝗵𝘁𝘀 𝗿𝗲𝘀𝗲𝗿𝘃𝗲𝗱.

networks : @kstrucknet @starlit-network @blossomnet @k-films

taglist : @slytherinshua @jenaissite @saxytalks @mystarsohee @seomisaho @chwesun @oc3anfloor @markyoursupplier127 @atzlordz @bbangbies @cyjzzl @minkilicious @am00ures | fill out form to be added. 

back to masterlist!

[chenlestarz]

casual | mark lee

pairing: idol! mark lee x waitress! fem. reader genre: fluff, strangers to lovers wc: 8k summary: you wouldn’t normally fall for a guy who left his number on a dinner bill. too bad that guy was mark fucking lee. content warnings: slightly suggestive content (making out), light cursing, food mentioned, parasocial themes, reader works a service job, a very overworked mark lee :(. no explicit smut in this part. a/n: hiii before anyone yells at me—yes, i know this isn’t the haechan fic i’m supposed to be working on (promise i’m still on it!!) but listen… i went to the smtown concert last week and it fully reignited my delusions, so i wrote this as a coping mechanism :P ik we’ve all been out with friends maybe at a restaurant, and thought, “what if my bias walked in right now?” right?? that’s basically the entire premise of this fic. pretty unrealistic but super fun to write & i hope it’s just as fun to read! also no smut… yall know what that means lol if you want a part 2... just say the word. ps: if you’re ever at an italian restaurant, do yourself a favor and get the gnocchi. trust me.

giving up your one free day to cover someone else’s shift wasn’t how you planned to spend saturday. but when your coworker begged with teary eyes and a story about her sick cat, saying no felt impossible.

so instead of sinking into your couch with a pint of chocolate ice cream and pride and prejudice on repeat, you were hustling through a saturday night at one of the city’s busiest restaurants.

it was hour six of your shift and you were at that breaking point where one starts fantasizing about quitting—or at least hiding in the walk-in freezer for five peaceful minutes.

any weekend here was a carnage with nonstop orders, zero patience, and customers who thought yelling would grill a steak faster.

but it was finally past eleven which meant the dinner rush had slowed and the only remaining stragglers were either couples too in love to notice the time or office workers too tired to cook at home. just two more hours, you thought to yourself.

“y/n! table four,” your coworker called, rushing past with a stack of empty plates.

you snapped out of your daze and walked over, expecting tired business executives or another couple feeding each other breadsticks. instead, you made eye contact with the two people you least expected to see here.

mark lee and johnny suh were looking right at you.

your heart dropped to your ass. for a second, you actually considered turning around. but even with your brain buffering, you knew you had to keep it together. the last thing you wanted was to make them uncomfortable.

you stopped beside their table, immediately recognizing the other two who had their backs to you as haechan and jungwoo. internally, you were combusting, but externally you prayed your expression didn’t scream that you were seconds from melting into the floor.

“hi, welcome to cecconi’s,” you said, voice steady enough despite your heart hammering your ribs.

when you handed over their menus, your fingers brushed mark’s briefly and you hoped he didn’t notice you flinch. that’s when you noticed the book peeking out of the front pocket of his hoodie.

you recognized the cover instantly— south of the border, west of the sun by murakami.

you cleared your throat, smiling before you could stop yourself. “that’s a good one.”

mark’s eyes followed where you were pointing and his eyebrows shoot up when he realized “wait… you’ve read this?”

you nodded, trying to be casual, as if you hadn’t picked that book apart alone on your bedroom floor at 2 a.m. two months ago. “i’ve read all of his stuff. but this one was a whole different experience.”

“i literally can’t put it down.” mark said, angling his body to yours with excitement. you could see he was tired but the small talk seemed to give him an energy boost.

“right? anything by murakami makes me feel like i’m eavesdropping on my own memories,” you said, mostly to yourself.

“that’s exactly it!” he said, eyes going wide. “i never knew how to put it into words before.” you had to look away before you got caught smiling at how boyish he looked when he got excited.

the other members stared with amused expressions on their faces, so you quickly straightened up and went back into server mode.

“right… uhm, our special tonight is black truffle gnocchi in a garlic cream reduction, topped with parmesan and chive oil. would you like something to drink while you look over the menu?”

“what kind of beers do you have?” johnny asked, leaning back in his seat.

you rattled off the list, stepping in to point them out on the menu. your hand was visibly shaking, but you hoped they’d chalk it up to general social awkwardness and not the fact that your four favorite idols were sitting in front of you.

“just water for me,” mark said softly. despite his smile, you could clearly hear how strained his voice was.

“great, i’ll bring those right out.”

they must’ve come straight from the venue. tonight’s show—the very one you’d missed because of this shift—had ended less than two hours ago. and now they were here, in your section, eating dinner. 

you walked to the bar, filled the glasses as requested except for mark’s. for him, you brewed a mug of hot water, dropped in a slice of lemon, a swirl of honey, and a small nub of ginger. it wasn’t even on the menu but something about his tired eyes and strained voice made you move on instinct.

you brought the tray back with all the drinks, placing them down carefully. when you reached mark, you set the mug in front of him.

“i hope this is okay,” you said quietly. “honey-ginger tea. it’s good for your throat.”

mark blinked, taken off guard. “oh… thank you.” he looked down at the mug, then back up at you. “seriously. that’s really thoughtful.”

you just smiled, brushing a stray hair behind your ear. “are you guys ready to order?”

they each placed their orders, nothing too extravagant. jungwoo wanted pasta, johnny asked for a steak medium rare, and haechan—after a dramatic five minute debate with himself—settled on the truffle gnocchi. mark went last.

“can i get the steak medium rare? and the mashed potatoes instead of the fries, if that’s okay,” he asked, glancing up again, voice still carrying that soft exhaustion.

“of course,” you said, jotting it down. “i’ll get those in for you.”

you dropped the order slip at the kitchen window, still feeling weirdly out of sync with your body. it didn’t help that you had to keep circling their table to serve other guests. table five had just ordered dessert, the group behind them needed their wine refilled, and your feet barely touched the floor before you were moving again. 

still, awareness prickled at the back of your neck whenever you passed their table.

you turned your head slightly, pretending to scan the room. mark was looking right at you but quickly glanced away, suddenly very invested in the tea in front of him.

you hesitated. maybe they needed something?

smoothing your apron, you walked back to their table. your heart thudded way harder than it needed to, but you managed a smile.

“everything okay here?” you asked.

mark cleared his throat, shaking his head as a faint flush crept up his neck. “we’re good. thanks, though.”

johnny’s lips twitched, and haechan was very clearly hiding a smirk behind his glass.

you smiled again, warmth rising in your chest at how shy he looked. “no worries. food should be out soon.”

back behind the bar, you tried to focus. really, you did. but your eyes kept drifting back to their table. thankfully, they seemed too wrapped up in their conversation to notice. every now and then, though, mark’s gaze would flicker your way.

he’s probably just zoning out, you told yourself. or exhausted, probably both. don’t be weird about it.

still… he kept looking. did you have something on your face? was it obvious you recognized them? god, what if he thought the tea was too much?

you groaned softly and buried your face in your hands when no one was looking.

pull it together, y/n. finish the shift. freak out later.

they are pretty quickly and eventually, their table quieted down. it was past midnight now, and the restaurant was finally starting to shut down. you printed their bill, then hesitated, chewing your lip as your pulse ticked higher.

should i?

this was your shot. it was maybe a little silly and borderline embarrassing, but if you didn’t say something now, you’d regret it forever.

before you could second-guess yourself any more, you scribbled a note at the bottom of the receipt:

"hii, hope this isn’t weird but i’m a really big fan. you’re amazing and i hope you enjoyed your meal and that the tea helped. get some rest tonight! :)"

you took a breath, walked back over, and placed it gently in the center of the table.

“here’s your bill,” you said quietly. “no rush, of course.”

mark looked up first. the smile he gave you was a little tired, but genuine.

“thank you,” he said warmly.

you nodded and stepped away, legs wobbling slightly as you disappeared into the back.

it’s done, you told yourself. no going back now.

as you busied yourself cleaning other tables, you watched from the corner of your eye as they got up. haechan said something that made mark laugh quietly, eyes crinkling at the corners in a way that made your stomach flutter helplessly.

then they were gone.

you waited a few extra minutes before heading over just to be sure. as you cleared the plates, you reached for the bill with your heart already racing, though you told yourself not to expect anything.

but when you opened the leather folder, your breath hitched.

they’d left a generous tip—but that wasn’t what caught your eye. there was something written under your message, a response scribbled quickly in neat handwriting:

"thanks for taking care of us tonight. especially the tea! :)"

followed by a number.

your heart kicked so hard you had to brace a hand on the table edge. there was no name at all, just the number. the ink looked a little smudged near the dash like whoever wrote it had closed the presenter in a hurry.

holy shit.

͏͏͏𝄞͏͏ ͏͏ ͏͏͏♥︎̼

it was past one when you finally made it home, hair smelling like garlic butter and burnt steak. the city lay quiet, your apartment even quieter, yet your brain refused to join the calm.

with a tired sigh, you tossed your bag onto the couch and collapsed beside it, fingers still gripping the bill tightly.

you’d reread the message ten times already. the ink was even more smudged now from your fingers, but the number was still clear.

you exhaled loudly, then groaned into a throw pillow.

“what the hell is happening.”

it had to be mark. right? it felt obvious. 

then again, maybe another member had simply appreciated the gesture and thanked you on behalf of mark. after all, their handwriting wasn't exactly familiar. you’d seen them a few times on signed albums or online fan letters, but not enough to be certain. 

suddenly determined, you sat upright, snapped a quick photo, and zoomed in immediately.

“this is insane,” you muttered.

 but that didn’t stop you from opening a tab to search: mark lee handwriting.

this wasn’t your best moment. you were tired, emotionally compromised, and clearly spiraling. still you opened a second tab and went deeper until you were staring at stan twitter handwriting threads for half an hour.

after many more side-by-sides, you sat back and stared at the screen like it could confess to you.

“it looks like his,” you whispered.

just text him. what's the worst that could happen?

the thought alone conjured every embarrassing scenario possible and made you nearly throw your phone across the room. how would you even start that conversation?

“hi, is this mark lee from nct? because i’m lowkey in love with you and i really hope you're the one who left your number at my workplace tonight?”

your heart nearly stopped at the thought. you glanced at the clock again—2:17 a.m.

yeah. no. you needed to lie down. you’d sleep on it. calm down a bit and gain some perspective.

but three days passed.

three whole days. that’s how long you spent agonizing over a single text. you'd written and deleted at least twenty drafts—too casual, too eager, too weird. one even included a joke you cringed at the second you typed it, and deleted just as fast.

he’s probably already back in korea, you reminded yourself while folding napkins at the restaurant on tuesday. fan accounts had posted airport photos before you even got out of bed. mark in a beanie and headphones, eyes puffy with exhaustion.

two more days passed. eventually, courage outweighed dread.

on thursday night, curled up in your pajamas, you stared at the too-bright glow of your phone while netflix asked if you were still watching. just do it, you told yourself. again.

you opened a new message. typed. erased. retyped. your pulse pounded, drowning out mr. darcy’s proposal in the background.

hi! this is y/n, the server from cecconi’s last saturday night. i know you’re probably crazy busy, but i just wanted to say thanks again for coming in. hope you’re resting well :)

it was friendly and not too over the top… right?

you hit send and immediately shoved the phone under your blanket, like that could somehow shield you from the rejection.

an hour passed, then three more, and nothing. you forced yourself to sleep, pretending the tight knot in your chest wasn’t disappointment. the next morning, you checked your phone before even opening both eyes.

still nothing. not even a read receipt.

it’s fine. they were idols. they were busy. you’d waited too long anyway. the group was back in rehearsals, buried in schedules. who had time to answer a text from a random server in another country?

another day passed with no reply. you tried to talk yourself down. maybe it wasn’t even his number. maybe it was a manager’s. maybe his phone was off. maybe international sims are weird. maybe—

“why did you wait so long,” you muttered into the couch, face buried in a pillow.

you were just about ready to let it go when your phone buzzed softly against the coffee table.

your heart nearly launched itself out of your chest. you scrambled for it, almost knocking over the entire table in the process.

a new message.

sorry!! things got crazy once we got back to korea. i’m really glad you texted though. and we’re resting (sort of haha). it’s mark btw :)

you stared at the screen.

read it. then read it again. and again.

warmth flooded your chest. you'd been right.

it was him.

your thumb hovered over the keyboard, brain scrambling for something to say. but for the first time in days, all you could do was smile.

you hadn’t realized how easily a single text could flip your whole mood until he replied. you must’ve read that message ten times before you even responded.

somehow, the conversation flowed naturally from there.

it started with casual back-and-forths. he’d talk about the tour, and you about your shifts. it quickly turned more personal though like blurry late-night snack pics from his studio, or mirror selfies of your server fits before dinner rushes.

none of it felt forced. but still… what was this?

you’d be wiping down table six or pulling espresso shots for a regular who never tipped, and suddenly your phone would buzz with a text message.

mark: can’t believe you’ve never seen inception…

you: maybe i was busy having friends

he sent back a string of laughing emojis and a photo of his laptop playing it.

mark: you’re watching it with me next time. no excuses.

next time.

you didn’t know what that meant, but it echoed in your head for the rest of the shift.

by the second week, it wasn’t just texts.

sometimes he’d call when your time zones aligned, and you were both free. once while you were folding laundry. another while he walked home from the studio, breath fogging the cold air as he complained about his busted heater.

“i feel like an old man,” he said once, voice scratchy. “my knees hurt”

“you’re twenty-five.”

“and breaking down.”

you laughed until your stomach hurt. he was quiet for a second, then said, “i like your laugh.”

you had to grip the edge of the counter to stay upright.

a month later came the first video call.

it was early morning. you were still half-asleep, texting with one eye open, when your screen lit up with a facetime request. you froze.

no makeup. puffy eyes. pimple cream still on your chin. but your fingers accepted the call before your brain could stop you.

he was lying down, hoodie half over his face.

“oh thank god,” he mumbled. “i thought you weren’t gonna pick up.”

“i almost didn’t,” you laughed, pulling the covers up to hide half your face. “you caught me in a vulnerable state.”

his eyes crinkled. “you look cute.”

you didn’t know what to say to that, so you just tucked your face further into the blanket.

after a few hours, the call fell into a comfortable silence, his eyes starting to flutter shut as you both lay in your respective beds.

you should’ve hung up, but you didn’t. you just stayed on the call, watching him sleep.

video calls became routine after that.

at first, they were short—ten, maybe fifteen minutes. he’d call after practice, his hair a mess, face still damp with sweat. the phone would be propped against his water bottle as he peeled off his hoodie and complained about sore calves.

but the calls started stretching longer. sometimes he was lying on a hotel bed, cheek pressed into the pillow, telling you about his comeback preparations. other times, he wandered through whatever city he was in, showing you the neon signs, quiet side streets, and cafés tucked into corners no tourist would ever find.

“i’ll take you here one day,” he said once, camera panning to a ramen shop. “i mean… if you ever visit.”

you didn’t answer right away. just smiled and pretended the idea didn’t stick in your chest like a pebble you couldn’t shake loose.

you started saving little things throughout the day just to tell him later. customer stories, songs that reminded you of him, strange headlines you knew would make him laugh. without realizing it, your brain made notes labeled tell mark this later.

he did the same. he sent you photos of whatever snack he was eating on set, told you about a dream where you both worked in a space bakery, asked what you thought of new songs he was writing. he never sent full demos, just a few seconds here and there—but it still felt intimate.

you started noticing things you hadn’t, even after all your years as a fan. how he bit the soft skin of his knuckles when he was anxious or the fact that he brushed his teeth for 6 minutes (yes, you counted).

neither of you brought up what this was. and maybe that was okay.

still, on some nights, you’d wonder does he text other people like this? has he done this before, video calls, sleepy laughter and quietly sharing his day?

you never asked.

you didn’t want to ruin the quiet magic of it all by needing too much too soon.

͏͏͏𝄞͏͏ ͏͏ ͏͏͏♥︎̼

mark eased you into his life bit by bit.

on a random thursday night, you were sprawled on the couch, scrolling aimlessly through tiktok when your phone buzzed. you smiled automatically when you saw his name and hit accept.

but it wasn’t him when the call connected.

“yo! she’s real!” johnny’s voice boomed through the speaker, far too loud and way too amused.

you blinked. “wait—what?”

the screen shook as mark scrambled to get the phone back. “okay, okay, stop—hyung, give it back!”

“nice to meet you,” jungwoo added brightly in the background. “finally!”

haechan’s face popped into view next. he hovered close to the camera, flashing a crooked grin. “she’s the one, right? the reason he’s always giggling at his phone like a loser.”

they were all speaking in korean, except for johnny—who made sure you caught the gist. you weren’t fluent, but you knew enough to piece it together. their tone said a lot, anyway.

“what did he say?” you asked, laughing nervously.

johnny leaned in. “he said mark’s obsessed with you.”

mark groaned in the background. “don’t translate that.”

“he talks about you,” haechan added in english, still half-hiding behind jungwoo but clearly enjoying himself. “all. the. time.”

you stared at the screen, wide-eyed, face already burning. “oh god—wait, we just—”

“aigoo, she’s cute,” jungwoo said with a grin, nudging haechan’s shoulder. “mark, you’re done for.”

mark finally got his phone back, his flushed face filling the screen. he was breathless from laughing.

“i’m so sorry,” he mumbled. “that was… i didn’t mean for that to happen.”

you were still blushing but grinning too. “so you talk about me all the time?”

he covered his face with one hand. “please. don’t start, they won’t let me live this down”

after that night, it became a running thing. sometimes you’d call just to talk to mark and end up ambushed by his members. taeyong once popped into frame with a plate of fruit, offering you a piece through the screen like you could actually take it. “for energy,” he said in halting English, then smiled and wandered off.

chenle appeared a few times asking random questions as if you’d been friends forever, one time he asked “do you like mark as much as he likes you?”

you sputtered something while mark tried (and failed) to shut him up.

renjun showed up once too, squinting at the screen. “so this is the girl,” he said, then walked off dramatically without another word.

it was chaotic, awkward, and constantly embarrassing but it also made your chest ache in the best way. knowing you weren’t some secret he was hiding. you were someone he wanted them to know.

and then one night, a few weeks later, mark called with a different kind of energy.

“guess what?” he said, barely able to sit still.

you blinked at him through the screen. “what?”

“we’re going to the US,” he grinned, and your heart nearly stopped.

“wait, seriously?”

“yeah, for a festival. just one weekend, but i’ll have a couple free days before the flight out. i—” he paused, scratching the back of his neck. “i was really hoping i could see you.”

you stared at him, stunned for a second.

“you want to see me?” you asked softly.

“yeah,” he said immediately. “i mean, only if you want to, obviously. i just… i’ve been thinking about it for a while. texting and calling is great but,.. i kind of miss being in the same room as you.”

not just the same city,  not just in passing. but in the same room with you.

you swallowed past the nerves bubbling up in your chest and nodded, trying to keep your voice steady.

“i want that too.”

͏͏͏𝄞͏͏ ͏͏ ͏͏͏♥︎̼

you tried for tickets the second they went live.

you had alarms set, several tabs open, your card ready. but none of it mattered…

they sold out in minutes.

you stared at the screen in disbelief, refreshing the page over and over hoping the outcome would change. it didn’t. your chest tightened with each failed refresh.

you were so close. and now, you had no idea how to tell mark.

you waited a whole day, thinking they’d release more tickets, maybe someone would resell—but the prices were insane, triple what you could afford, and the longer you waited, the more hopeless it felt.

when he finally called you that night, you tried to act normal for about ten seconds before it all came spilling out.

“i didn’t get tickets,” you said, voice cracking before you could stop it. “they sold out so fast and now the only ones left are like impossible. and i know you’re going to be super busy and probably won’t be able to meet up anyway, but i was really looking forward to seeing you perform, and now i don’t even know if i’ll get to see you at all—”

“hey, hey, slow down.” mark’s voice was soft. “breathe, y/n.”

you inhaled shakily, pressing your forehead to your knee, curled up on the couch. “sorry. i just… i really wanted to be there.”

“i know,” he said gently. “and i want you there too.”

you went quiet, biting the inside of your cheek.

“but we’ll figure something out, okay?” mark continued. “don’t stress about it too much. just… trust me a little.”

“what do you mean…,” you said slowly, suspicion creeping in.

he chuckled. “nothing. just saying... maybe don’t give up hope yet.”

you narrowed your eyes at your phone. “you’re being cryptic.”

“am i?” he said, way too innocently.

you groaned into your pillow. “don’t do this to me.”

“i’m not doing anything,” he replied. “just... keep the day of the festival open, okay?”

you wanted to press him, but the look in his eyes was too confident. so you nodded slowly, heart still a little heavy but soothed by the warmth in his voice.

the day they landed in the US, you got the call while brushing your teeth.

your phone lit up with his name, and you answered with a mouthful of foam, spitting it out quickly as you mumbled, “hey, did you land?”

“we did,” mark said, voice laced with excitement. “and i have good news.”

“what?”

“a car’s going to pick you up the day of the show,” he said, like it was the most normal thing in the world. “my team helped sort it out. we wanted to make sure you’d be there.”

you blinked, wide-eyed, toothbrush still in hand. “wait what? you—what do you mean? mark—”

“you’re coming to the festival, y/n. you’re not missing this. not if i can help it.”

you clutched your phone, stunned into silence, overwhelmed by how much care he’d tucked into those few words.

“you didn’t have to—”

“i know,” he interrupted, voice softer now. “but i wanted to.”

͏͏͏𝄞͏͏ ͏͏ ͏͏͏♥︎̼

you’d never felt more nervous getting ready for anything in your entire life. not for job interviews, not for first dates, not even for a final exam. nothing compared to the fluttering anxiety buzzing in your chest right now.

it was almost ridiculous how much effort you'd put in. your hair was carefully styled in waves that took you half an hour to do, your makeup was done and redone multiple times until you finally settled on something subtle but pretty. your outfit had taken ages to choose, you didn’t want to look too casual but also didn’t want to make it seem like you were trying too hard. so you settled for a regular black skirt and a white long sleeved top, it was comfortable but not boring. you wanted to look good, even though mark had already seen you at your most tired, sweaty, and disheveled.

the car arrived precisely at the time mark had promised. your heart jumped to your throat when the driver opened the door for you, offering a polite nod. 

your hands trembled slightly in your lap the entire ride to the venue. you felt giddy, overwhelmed, and deeply nervous all at once.

but when you finally arrived, the excitement abruptly shifted into self-awareness. several staff members glanced at you warily, some whispering to each other and throwing quick looks your way. suddenly, you felt very out of place, shrinking slightly under their scrutinizing gazes.

“excuse me,” came a sharp voice behind you. you turned around to see a woman approaching, her expression serious, a clipboard held firmly in her hands. “you must be y/n?”

“yes,” you replied nervously.

“there are some documents you'll need to sign,” she informed you.

“documents? like—”

“standard NDAs, confidentiality agreements, liability waivers,” she cut in and handed you a clipboard, flipping briskly through pages filled with dense legal text. “you'll need to sign these before we move forward.”

you stood frozen for a moment, feeling incredibly naive and small as reality hit you like a slap to the face. you’d let yourself get carried away, almost forgetting who exactly mark was—who exactly these people were. they weren't just regular guys; they were idols, celebrities, people with management teams and carefully guarded images.

this was serious and you had somehow underestimated all of it.

the woman noticed your hesitation, her expression softening just a fraction. “it’s standard procedure,” she said, “mark personally asked us to ensure you’re comfortable, but we need to protect everyone involved.”

“okay,” you whispered shakily, taking the pen from her hand. your fingers felt numb as you signed, barely registering the words printed on the paper. 

once the woman was satisfied, she took the clipboard back, nodded curtly, and gestured for you to follow her. your heart thundered in your chest as you walked through the busy hallway.

then she stopped in front of a dressing room door, knocking sharply once before opening it slightly. “mark? your guest is here.”

you held your breath as the door slowly swung open, your pulse so loud you could hardly hear anything else.

mark appeared in the doorway, eyes widening slightly as he took you in. suddenly, all the anxiety, paperwork, and awkwardness faded into the background. his expression softened immediately, that familiar warmth returning as his eyes crinkled in a gentl smile.

“hey,” he breathed softly, clearly just as relieved to see you as you were to see him. “you made it.”

mark steps fully into the hallway, blocking the view of the bustling green-room behind him. for half a beat you both just stare, soaking in the fact that you’re finally sharing the same oxygen again instead of pixels on a phone screen.

“wow…” he breathes, cheeks coloring as his eyes scan you. “you look so—” he catches himself, smiles sheepishly, and opens his arms. “can i?”

you nod before your brain supplies coherent language, letting him tug you forward. the hug is quick—he’s hyper-aware of everyone around you—but his hand stays at your elbow afterward, grounding you.

“sorry about the fuss,” he murmurs, voice pitched low so only you can hear. 

“it’s okay… just a bit intense.”

“i know.” his thumb sweeps a tiny circle on your sleeve. “but you’re here now. c’mon, the guys are waiting.”

when you walk inside the room is buzzing with energy. there’s stylists zipping garment bags, a makeup artist following jungwoo around to touch up his lips, haechan drumming on a folding table with two half-empty water bottles. the second he spots you, his face splits into a grin.

“look who made it!” he crows, loud enough for the entire room to hear. “mark’s special guest.”

johnny swivels in a chair. “oh, the infamous y/n at last.” he stands, offering a hand that turns into a gentle half-hug when you take it. “nice seeing you again.”

jungwoo waves from a corner, cheeks puffed with gummy bears. “hi! mark’s talked a lot about you,” he says around the candy. 

mark groans. “ignore them, they’ve been insufferable since i told them you were coming.”

“insufferable?” haechan clutches his chest theatrically. “hyung, we’re just supporting your relationship!”

you feel your face go nuclear. “it’s not— we’re just—”

“friends,” mark supplies, shooting haechan a warning glance. but the tips of his ears have gone pink, and the little smile tugging at his mouth totally betrays him.

johnny leans closer, whispering, “lies, he’s always grinnung at his phone like a middle schooler whenever you talk.”

you let out a mortified laugh that turns into a squeak when mark nudges johnny away. “we have to be on stage in ten minutes, maybe focus?”

jungwoo claps. “right! you can watch backstage with staff.”

an assistant appears then, handing mark an in-ear pack. he hesitates, then squeezes your hand once before following the others toward wardrobe.

“sorry i gotta get dressed,” he says over his shoulder, “see you in a bit.”

you exhale for the first time since stepping off the car, pulse finally settling as the door swings shut. you tuck a stray hair behind your ear, catching your reflection in a vanity mirror. your cheeks are flushed and there’s a stunned little smile on your lips.

the staff member that escorted you in approaches again, her expression now more polite but still distant as she walks you down a narrow hallway. “you’ll be watching from here,” she explains as you reach a curtained-off section just beside the stage entrance.

the space is just wide enough for a couple of folding chairs, and a monitor showing the stage feed. even through the curtain, you can hear the low rumble of the crowd growing louder by the second—cheers, screams, the crowd chanting “ilichil, we love you!” 

you perch at the edge of a chair, feeling entirely out of place and wildly overwhelmed.

what am i even doing here?

this wasn’t some fantasy anymore. you weren’t watching fancams in your pajamas or whispering to your screen during late-night video calls. you were backstage, in their world, and everyone around you belonged to it except you.

you looked down at your outfit again, smoothing invisible wrinkles, suddenly doubting every choice you’d made that morning. your nails, your shoes, even the way you’d done your eyeliner. it all felt too much and not enough at the same time.

a soft noise pulls your attention back to the side curtain. one of the stylists slips through, handing off a mic pack to someone just outside your view. you recognize mark’s voice quickly.

he’s laughing at something jungwoo said, but even through the laughter you can hear the edge of nerves in his voice. it makes you feel… less alone in your own.

you peek around the edge of the curtain. they’re all gathered near the wings, adjusting their in-ears and bouncing on their heels to shake out last-minute jitters. mark’s back is turned at first, but then he glances over his shoulder almost like he can feel your eyes on him.

your breath catches when his gaze finds yours. through all the chaos and noise, his eyes meet yours like it’s the most natural thing in the world.

he doesn’t wave or call out—he just smiles.

he turns back as staff starts to guide them toward the entrance tunnel, and you’re left sitting there with your heart doing an unholy rhythm in your chest.

you hadn’t expected this, the building pressure in your chest, the way your emotions feel too big to hold.

but underneath all of it, layered between the nerves and the noise inside your own head, there’s a flicker of anticipation.

he’s just a few feet away now. he’s about to be on stage, doing what he was born to do, and you’ll be right here, watching not just as a fan anymore.

but as someone who matters to him.

the stage lights cut to black, and the low hum of the backing track pulses through the arena like a heartbeat. from your narrow perch in the wings you can feel the vibration under your soles, a physical reminder that this isn’t a dream.

a lone spotlight slices across the darkness—jungwoo steps into it, and the crowd erupts. the boys fan out behind him in practiced formation.

mark is near the center, head lowered, hand cupped over his earpiece as he settles into position. you’ve watched this opening on countless fancams, but up close everything is magnified: the hiss of their in-ears, the snap of jacket fabric when they turn, the ragged inhale before the first line.

johnny’s deep vocal rolls out, haechan answers with his bright harmony, and suddenly the whole place is singing along..

mark’s part hits next. he steps forward, eyes scanning the sea of faces before flicking to you. it’s only a second, a brush of attention so quick the crowd would never catch it, but it lands like a spark in your lungs. he grins, then pivots into choreography.

you never understood how performers could look both effortless and deadly focused until now. sweat beads at their hairlines within minutes, but they don’t miss a beat. haechan riffs a playful ad-lib, doyoung shoots him a mock glare, johnny laughs into his mic; the crowd screams, drunk on the interaction.

halfway through the set, they perform gold dust as a surprise, the stage lights go yellow. mark moves to the far edge closer to you and delivers his verse straight ahead. but on his last bar he tilts his head, eyes skimming the shadows where you’re standing. his voice drops into that warm, gritty register you know too well from late-night calls, and despite the roar of the arena the moment feels impossibly intimate.

you tuck your hands under your arms, trying to calm the goosebumps, but the sheer thrill of seeing him own that stage while still tossing these tiny pieces of himself your way is overwhelming.

the final song explodes in confetti cannons. the boys hit their last pose, breathing hard, grinning wide. the screams from the audience are deafening; even the backstage staff exchange awed looks.

mark bows with the others, shouting “thank you!” into his mic, but as they turn to exit he catches your gaze one more time. he taps two fingers against his chest, then points subtly toward the hallway where you’re waiting and mouths the words stay right there, i’ll find you.

and you waited exactly where he told you to.

or… at least tried to.

but the moment the boys disappeared off stage, chaos swallowed everything whole. several stagehands rushed past with crates, wires and gear flying in every direction, staff barking orders into walkies while backup dancers and security weaved in and out of the narrow corridors.

you stepped back into the corner, trying not to get trampled, but every second you waited the crowd thickened, people shouting over each other, crew passing by so quickly that you were bumped into more than once. you caught glimpses of the members being swept off into different directions—haechan laughing breathlessly with a towel around his neck, johnny taking a water bottle from someone. but there was no sight of mark.

“you can’t stand here,” someone snaps, grabbing your elbow and steering you quickly away. “please, move along.”

“wait, i was supposed to—” you start, but your protest drowns in the noise as you’re guided through the maze of corridors. 

you glance over your shoulder anxiously, panic rising in your throat. mark said he’d find you but you don’t even know where you’re going.

the staff member stops abruptly near a back exit, where a van is parked outside the open door. he gestures hurriedly. “wait in there, please. someone will be with you shortly.”

before you can question it, he’s already vanished back into the building. hesitantly, you climb into the empty van, settling awkwardly on the leather seat. not even a minute later your phone buzzes with a text from mark.

mark: where are you??? backstage is insane, i can’t find you.

you quickly reply: someone moved me to a van near the back entrance?

your heart pounds as minutes stretch into eternity and doubt starts gnawing at you—they will probably film some behind the scenes content now, interviews, livestreams, what if he doesn’t have time to find you before he’s sent away?

but just as anxiety peaks, the van door suddenly slides open. your eyes widen as mark appears, breathing heavily like he ran to reach you, his stage makeup slightly smudged, hair damp and tousled from the performance. he sighs in relief, shoulders visibly relaxing the second he sees you.

“oh, thank god,” he breathes, climbing quickly into the van and closing the door behind him. “i was so worried. everything okay?”

“yeah, it was just really hectic—” you start, but your words fade as he sits beside you, closer than you’ve ever really been. close enough that you can see the faint glitter along his jaw, the sweat glistening at his temples, the warmth in his gaze as it settles fully on your face.

“you were incredible out there,” you say softly. “i’ve never…  it’s different seeing it up close.”

his cheeks pink despite the post-performance flush. “i kept looking for you.” 

“i noticed,” you admit, smiling.

mark’s gaze drops to your hands twisting in your lap and he reaches out.

“thanks for being here,” he murmurs. 

your laugh is a shaky exhale. “i wouldn’t miss it for the world.”

“also…the NDA,” he starts quietly. “i didn’t want you to feel like i was cornering you into some weird situation. that’s not what this is.”

“mark, i didn’t think that. i mean—it was overwhelming, yeah, but i get it. you’re…” you gesture helplessly. “you.”

he laughs softly, but there’s no real humor behind it. “i hate it. you know, not being able to just… hang out with you. not having the freedom to do normal things, like… i don’t know—go get coffee or show you the city or tell people about you without it turning into a whole thing.”

“is that what this is? am i…” you hesitate. “something you’d want to tell people about?”

he looks up at you, and there’s not a trace of hesitation when he says, “yes. i think about it all the time.”

you blink, throat suddenly dry.

he leans in slightly. “i just… i didn’t want you to think i was trying to make you sign your silence just so i could keep you a secret. it’s not about hiding you. it’s about protecting something that means a lot to me.”

and there it is. the part he hadn’t said yet.

you mean a lot to him.

your chest tightens with the weight of being chosen in a world that doesn’t make space for this kind of closeness, that demands boundaries, a good image and clean lines drawn in ink. and yet here he is, blurring those lines for you.

“thank you for saying that,” you murmur, voice trembling a little. “i didn’t realize how much i needed to hear it.”

mark reaches across the space then, taking your other hand. “i don’t want this to feel like you’re walking on eggshells because of my life. i want it to feel real.”

your fingers tighten around his instinctively.

“it already does,” you whisper.

and when he finally closes the distance between you, pulling you into a quiet, careful hug, it feels so right.

his arms wrap around you and for a second the world outside the van ceases to exist. he’s warm even through his stage jacket, you can feel his heartbeat thudding fast against your cheek. you breathe him in, clean sweat and fabric softener.

when he pulls back, he doesn’t release your hand. his thumb brushes lazy paths over your knuckles.

“i kept picturing this,” he admits quietly. “all week. wondering if it would feel the same in person as it did in my head.”

“and?” you whisper.

“it’s even better,” he says without hesitation.

he shifts slightly, the space between you rapidly shrinking. his gaze flickers briefly down to your lips, and the movement sends your pulse racing.

“mark,” you whisper, voice barely audible, “i—”

his other hand gently finds your cheek, thumb tracing lightly along your skin, tipping your chin up just a fraction. he searches your face, breathing shallow and eyes heavy with something soft and vulnerable.

you lean in instinctively, eyes fluttering closed as his breath ghosts warm over your lips—

and then the van door suddenly swings open, a burst of noise and harsh backstage lighting flooding in.

“mark hyung, manager hyung says—oh shit.” haechan freezes halfway inside the doorway. “ohhh, sorry… was i interrupting something?”

mark jerks back, cheeks blazing crimson as his hand quickly leaves your cheek and lands awkwardly in his lap. “dude, are you serious?” he groans, dropping his head with a sigh and muttering a very un-idol-like curse word. 

you cover your mouth, laughing breathlessly through the embarrassment even as your pulse continues hammering in your ears.

“sorry, sorry,” haechan says, grinning wickedly, clearly not sorry at all. “but uh, we gotta go. manager hyung’s freaking out. we got an interview, hurry up.”

“yeah. coming.” he searches your face, apology written in his eyes “they’ll herd us to the hotel soon. can you wait a little longer? i want to ride with you after they clear the crowd.”

you nod, trying to ignore the throb of almost-kiss still sparking across your lips. “i’m not going anywhere.”

“give me twenty minutes tops, and then i’m kidnapping you for actual food.”

“bold of you to assume i’d say no.”

as he slips out, you catch the faintest curve of a smile before the door thuds shut and you’re alone again.

thirty minutes later, mark slips back into the van. this time freshly changed, hair still damp but swept under a dark cap.

“sorry that took forever.” he drops into the seat opposite you, knee bouncing with leftover adrenaline. “do you wanna come meet the other members properly before we leave?”

you follow him back through a quieter service corridor to a smaller green room that smells heavily like hair spray. inside, half the members are sprawled on sofas in various states of post-show exhaustion. the energy shifts the second mark ushers you in.

“guys, this is y/n,” he says.

taeyong shoots up first, hand extended. “the legend herself,” he jokes, grinning wide enough to prove he’s still riding his performance high. jaehyun offers a shy wave and drags over a chair so you won’t have to hover. yuta, also walks over and introduces himself politely.

doyoung is the only one who stays seated, arms folded. his eyes flick between you and mark, assessing. it lasts all of three seconds before he notices how relaxed mark looks—those shoulders that usually sit somewhere near his ears are loose, his smile easy. doyoung’s expression softens.

“thanks for cheering him up,” he says quietly, a little sheepish. “he’s been impossible the last few weeks.” the tease lands gentle, and mark flicks a sweat towel at him in retaliation.

the small talk bubbles up easily. the topic shifting from favorite festival moments, to whose in-ears cut out, and the confetti that caught in doyoung’s mouth during a high note. the atmosphere is warm and surprisingly normal, until a manager pops his head in to remind everyone they’ve got early rehearsals tomorrow.

mark steers you quickly back to the van after saying a quick goodbye.

“so…” he ran a hand through his hair and put his hat back on. “food?”

“please,” you groaned, head falling back against the seat. “i’m starving.”

“wanna go to a restaurant?” he offered.

you winced. “too risky.”

he nodded slowly. “true, my hotel’s worse.”

you turned your head to face him. “sasaengs?”

“they wait outside sometimes, follow the vans from the venue” he trailed off, already looking annoyed with the reality of it.

“we could…” you swallow, then barrel through. “we could go to my place? it’s not far, and no one knows where i live. we can order in.”

mark’s head tilts, surprised but already nodding. “are you sure?”

“only if you’re okay hiding out in a tiny apartment that smells like scented candles and stale coffee.”

he smiles brightly. “sounds perfect.”

you rattle off your address to the driver, heart hammering as you drive through the city. mark’s knee bumps yours every time the van hits a pothole, but neither of you moves away.

he glances over. “thank you for trusting me with your space.”

you breathe out a shaky laugh. “thank you for trusting me with… all of this.”

his fingers brush yours on the seat between you. outside, the van slows to a stop at your curb. the driver kills the lights for discretion. thankfully, the street is empty.

you turn to mark, pulse racing for an entirely new reason now. “welcome to my part of the world.”

he grins, tugging his cap lower and reaching for the door handle. “lead the way.”

your apartment is small, cluttered with book stacks and half-burned candles, but it’s yours—and when mark steps in, slipping off his shoes at the door like he’s done it a hundred times, it feels suddenly, impossibly domestic.

“so,” he murmurs, looking around with quiet curiosity. “what’s good for takeout around here?”

you settle on thai food after a chaotic five-minute debate that ends with mark looking up from your couch and going, “okay but do you trust me with your spice tolerance?”

you blink at him. “mark. i watched you cry eating jalapeño chips during that one livestream.”

“they were ghost pepper!” he defends, slightly pouting. “and i didn’t cry, my eyes were just... dry.”

you giggle and the tension that had followed you into the apartment fades with it.

while you wait for the food, he wanders around your space with curiosity. never touching too much, just observing. he stops at your bookcase, smiles at the titles stacked sideways, fingers brushing one of the cracked spines.

“so this is where you’ve been calling from,” he says as he returns to the couch, flopping down beside you. “it’s cozy.”

“that’s code for small, right?”

he tilts his head, grinning softly. “no. cozy means i don’t want to leave.”

you glance over at him, heartbeat spiking in your throat. his hoodie’s a little rumpled from the ride, cap tossed somewhere by your front door, and he’s leaned so close your shoulders brush.

“you’re kind of the only boy who’s ever said that,” you murmur.

“then they’re idiots.”

your lips twitch with a smile. mark leans his head back on the cushion, you get distracted by the cute bump on his nose and the lines of his jaw.

you both fall quiet for a while, your legs stretched out beside his on the couch, ankles knocking occasionally. your body relaxes more than you expect, as if it remembers this feeling from all those calls and imaginary versions of this moment.

when the takeout finally arrives, you both eat cross-legged on the couch, plastic containers open between you, your playlist humming low in the background.

you talk through mouthfuls of noodles about everything and nothing—his weird craving for peaches whenever he’s overseas, your childhood phase of putting ketchup on rice, how you both secretly judge people who don’t rewind movies when they pause.

somewhere between “i really miss my mom’s kimchi stew” and your story about the nightmare customer who demanded gluten-free breadsticks, your shoulders touch. a minute later his arm slips along the back of the couch, fingers grazing your shoulder each time he shifts. your nerves fizz under your skin, but the contact feels safe.

You lean into him. He doesn’t move away.

the conversation slows and when you glance up to make a joke, your nose brushes the edge of his jaw. his breath hitches at this, then a warm hand settles on your knee.

“this feels…” he starts, swallowing. “kinda unreal.”

“yeah.” a whisper—because your voice has gone missing.

his palm lifts to your cheek, thumb soft against your skin. “can I kiss you?”

you’re already nodding.

the first kiss is shy and careful, more smile than pressure. The next slips deeper, mouths moving in a lazy rhythm neither of you rush. Your fingers tangle in the hem of his hoodie; his other hand skims your waist, pulling you just close enough to feel the quiet drum of his heart.

eventually the couch gets too cramped. mark breaks the kiss with a sheepish laugh. “my back is dying,” he murmurs.

you tug him down the hall to your room, giggling when he nearly trips on a sneaker. he perches on the edge of the bed and you climb into his lap without thinking, legs draped around him. his hands settle on your hips and he sighs.

“i really, really like you,” he says, forehead resting against yours.

“i like you too. a lot.”

he kisses you again. you spend the next half hour like that, trading soft laughs and softer kisses until the adrenaline drains from his limbs. head falls heavy on your shoulder, he mumbles something about the best night of his life…and falls asleep mid-sentence.

You ease him back onto the pillows, kick off your skirt, and curl into the space beneath his arm. One leg hooks over yours; his hand rests at the small of your back, protective even in sleep.

it’s the tenth call that finally wakes him the next morning.

mark groans into your pillow, dragging his phone blindly toward his face. “what…”

a second goes by and then he jolts upright. “shit. shit.”

you blink groggily, one arm reaching out for him. “what’s wrong?”

he’s already stumbling for his shirt which he doesn’t even remember taking off last nigh. “i slept in. i never—fuck, i never sleep in.”

you sit up slowly, watching him try to shove his hat over tousled hair while checking his phone. “i have like ten missed calls.”

he answers the incoming call hurriedly, voice tense and apologetic. “yeah, i’m sorry, i know… i’m on my way now, just got… held up. i’ll explain later.”

he glances down at you then, taking in your messy hair, swollen lips and sleepy eyes, and the look on his face softens just a little.

when he finally hangs up, he rushes back to your side, quickly pressing a kiss to your forehead. “i gotta run, but i'll text you as soon as i can. i promise.”

you smile sleepily up at him, already missing the warmth of his body against yours. “go. don’t get in trouble.”

he pauses briefly before leaving. “last night was… perfect. thank you.”

and then he’s gone, leaving you to curl back into your pillow, still feeling the ghost of his touch and the lingering warmth of everything you shared.

[chenlestarz]

heads up: food + reader can be picky with food sometimes

mark sees the frown on your face after eating the first bite of cake, and immediately he's already getting up. "alright... i'm gonna go back for the shortcake."

"no, baby--" you look up at him, pouting at him. "it's fine. i'll be fine."

mark takes your face into his hands. "baby. it's your birthday. the least i can do is go back for the cake you wanted. think of it this way," he sits back down again. "you tried something? and i know how you are about food sometimes."

"it's late." you place your hands over his own, gently pulling them from your face. "you don't have to."

"i want to." his eyes twinkle a little, and he presses a quick kiss against your lips. "hey. happy birthday. i'll be back with your shortcake... and i'll eat this when i get back," he nods toward the slice of cake next to you, two small bites taken from it. "so we both get something sweet today and nothing goes to waste, yeah?"

with a sigh, you let him go. "you're sweet, you know."

he shoots you little finger guns as he makes his way back, nearly running straight into the wall on the way out. but he laughs at himself, and it's enough for you to laugh a little as you call out to him to be careful. maybe years ago, you would have forced yourself to eat something you disliked... but not with mark. mark, who just cheeses at you and is proud of you for expanding your horizons a little, no matter whether you like something or not. mark, who indulges your sweet tooth with his existence at this point.

and maybe you'll let him get a bite of shortcake later, just to see that goofy smile before he steals another kiss from you.

[chenlestarz]

★ ˙ ̟ ─── . “fell for you”.

| summary | Mark didn't know that being clumsy had its advantages. | cw | fluff, strangers to something else, meet-cute?, kiiinda of love at first sight, mark is downnn bad, mark is shy but HE GOT THIS!!| | a/n | my beautiful @peterm4rker, feliz cumpleeee!! i hope you have an amazing day, thank you for being alive, i only exist on your cellphone, so all i can do for u is a silly fic, but i did it with love 😔 TUMBLR SABOTAGED ME AND DIDN'T POST, I CAN'T BELIEVE I FAILED I HAD ONE JOB 😭😭😭 i hope u like it EVERYONE SAY HAPPY BIRTHDAY LUCI WE LOVE YOU!!!

Mark hadn’t been able to tear his eyes off you since the moment you stepped onto the dance floor. Actually, it started even earlier, when you accidentally bumped into him, nearly causing him to spill his drink all over himself.

He’d only caught a brief glimpse of you then, but it was enough. The image of you had carved itself into his mind like a permanent imprint—your eyes, framed by just the right touch of color, glowing with a playful spark. Your lips, glossy and shining, curved into a polite little smile as you muttered a quick apology.

He barely managed to say “it’s okay” in return, too stunned to form anything more coherent. He was usually the type to get flustered easily, yes, but something about you completely disarmed him.

From that moment on, his attention was glued to you for the rest of the night. He watched the way you moved so effortlessly with the rhythm, the sway of your body in perfect sync with the music, the way you tossed your head back when you laughed, bright and carefree. You leaned in to say something to a friend, smiling as they nudged you playfully, and he couldn’t help the way his eyes followed every motion like a magnet.

He wasn't completely sure, but he could’ve sworn you glanced his way a few times too—just quick flickers of your eyes in his direction, barely enough to be sure, but enough to set his nerves on fire.

Watching you from across the room, radiant and completely in your element, Mark stood frozen in place, drink hanging loosely from his fingers, heart pounding in a way he hadn't felt in a long time.

“Is that a new flirting technique?” Chenle’s voice cut through the music, amused and sharp, but Mark’s eyes remained glued to you.

“What?” Mark replied absently, not tearing his gaze away. “What do you mean?”

“I mean,” Chenle huffed, reaching out to nudge Mark’s chin up with two fingers, “are you trying to send telepathic signals until she magically develop the ability to receive them?” He gave Mark a pointed look. “Because you’ve been standing here with your mouth open drooling like a golden retriever for the past thirty minutes.”

“I’m not doing that,” Mark grumbled, frowning as he crossed his arms, voice defensive like a kid caught red-handed.

“Yeah, sure you’re not,” Chenle snorted, the sarcasm practically dripping. He took a sip of his drink, raising a brow at his friend. “Seriously, just go talk to her. Is it really that difficult? You’re acting like she’s gonna bite.”

Mark shot him a side-eye. “What if she does?”

“You’re right, she might,” Chenle replied, casually glancing in your direction—just in time to catch the not-so-subtle way you were watching Mark from across the room, nibbling on your lower lip with your eyes slightly narrowed. “She definitely looks like she wants to,” he added with a smirk. “But I don’t think it’s the kind of bite you’re worried about.”

Mark’s brows rose slightly, caught off guard by Chenle’s words. His gaze flicked toward you instinctively—and, oh.

You were looking right at him. No mistaking it this time. Eyes locked, lip between your teeth in a way that made his brain short-circuit for a split second.

“…Shit,” he muttered under his breath.

Chenle let out a laugh, elbowing him. “See? Told you. She’s just waiting for you to stop being a coward.”

Mark groaned, dragging a hand down his face. “I don't even know what to say to her.”

“You're talking like a fucking loser, Mark,” Chenle deadpanned, already on the move. He grabbed Mark by the shoulders and started to shove him forward, away from the bar and toward the dance floor. “You’ve done all kind of stuff and now you're scared of a pretty girl?”

“I wasn’t mentally prepared for a goddess tonight,” Mark hissed under his breath, feet dragging against the floor.

Chenle rolled his eyes. “You’ll survive. Just say hi. Or smile. Or blink in Morse code if that’s easier.”

He wanted to protest, to resist his friend's insistence, maybe even run back to the safety of the bar stool, but before he knew it, his feet had betrayed him. There he was, standing just a few steps behind you, frozen in place, staring at the back of your figure illuminated by the flashing lights.

He glanced at Chenle, who was grinning like the absolute menace he was, waving mockingly from the distance, mouthing something like “Good luck.”

Mark inhaled deeply, trying to steady the wild rhythm of his heartbeat. Okay. No turning back now.

He took one slow step forward, then another, using the few seconds he had before reaching you to rehearse every possible conversation in his head—witty lines, casual compliments, charming openers. He even prepared for rejection in all its brutal forms, from polite smiles to awkward laughs.

But he was so absorbed in the panic of how not to embarrass himself and how to maybe, somehow impress you, that he completely missed the fact that his shoelaces were undone.

And just like that, two seconds later, he was tripping over his own feet and stumbling straight into your direction, at the exact moment you turned around.

“Woah!” you gasped, instinctively catching him as he practically collapsed into your arms.

Mark was pretty sure this was how people died of embarrassment. His hands instinctively gripped your arms to steady himself, eyes wide as he looked up at you from his not-so-elegant lean.

"I—uh—hi," he stammered, frozen for a beat. "That wasn't... That wasn't part of the plan."

A soft laugh slipped from your lips, light and melodic, and even with the music pulsing loudly around you, he heard it clearly. The sound clung to his ears like a favorite song, and Mark was pretty sure it was one of the most beautiful things he’d ever heard.

“I’ll give you points for impact,” you teased, a playful smile tugging at your lips as you watched him clumsily pull away, trying to regain some composure.

“Thank you,” he replied, sheepish, one hand instinctively reaching to rub the back of his neck. He was silently grateful for the club’s low lighting and the swirl of neon colors around you, hiding the fierce red blooming across his cheeks.

“That wasn’t exactly how I planned to come talk to you, but…” he let out a nervous chuckle, stealing a quick glance at your face, still surprised you hadn’t just walked away. "I'm Mark, by the way.”

He extended his hand—like an idiot, he thought—but couldn’t help the flicker of relief that crossed his face when you took it without hesitation, your fingers warm against his. You said your name, and it echoed in his head like a melody. God, what a beautiful name.

“Nice to meet you, Mark,” you replied, his name rolling off your tongue so smoothly it made his heart skip.

Was his name always this nice to hear, or was it just your voice?

“Do you go around falling into every girl’s arms you're interested in, or...?” your tone were playful, your eyes filled with amusement.

“That was actually only for you,” he said, flashing a smile so charming it made your stomach twist in the best way.

“Oh, so I'm the lucky one?” you teased, tilting your head as a grin tugged at your lips.

“I’m the lucky one, actually,” he replied without missing a beat, brows raising slightly as if the words had just slipped out. “Can I, um, get you a drink?”

His nervous look was absolutely adorable, you could never deny it, not that you were planning to. “Of course, lead the way.”

To say Mark was in disbelief over how well things were going—especially after that mortifying entrance—would be an understatement. But here you were, smiling at him, saying yes. He wasn’t about to question his luck.

As the two of you made your way to the bar and shared drinks, the atmosphere gradually relaxed. The alcohol helped a little, sure, but it was mostly you. You made things easy. You were attentive, engaged, and just… so genuinely interesting. Every new thing you said made him want to know more.

He was pretty sure he could get addicted to you.

“Oh, so you’re a singer, a songwriter, and you dance?” you asked, a playful eyebrow raised as your chin rested on your palm, eyes locked on his. “Can’t believe I’m talking to a celebrity right now.”

“Ah, come on,” he rolled his eyes, but couldn’t fight the grin tugging at his lip, which only widened when your laughter followed. “I just have a lot of hobbies, that’s all.”

You let out a low whistle. “Wow. Hobbies? What happened to being humble?” you teased, giving his shoulder a light push. “Next thing you’ll say is you’re only kind of good at them.”

He chuckled, tilting his head. “I mean… I’m decent,” he said, feigning modesty.

That made you laugh even harder, the sound bubbling out effortlessly. “Okay, okay then…” you said, glancing around the lively club for a beat before turning your eyes back to him—your gaze bright with amusement, excitement gleaming in your irises. “Since I can’t exactly fact-check the singing and songwriting right now, how about we test the dancing?”

Mark blinked, caught slightly off guard by the sudden switch, but your smile was too contagious, too inviting for him to say no.

“You want to dance?” he asked, a flicker of nervousness playing at the edge of his voice.

“Yes, let’s go!” you beamed, and before Mark could even get another word out, you were already grabbing his hand, tugging him with you toward the dance floor with that same infectious energy that had him hooked from the start.

The lights spun wildly above, the bass of the music thumping through the floor and right into his chest, but nothing felt as loud or electric as the warmth of your hand in his.

You turned to him once you found a spot, your fingers still loosely wrapped around his, your smile mischievous. “C’mon, don’t be shy now,” you teased, already swaying to the rhythm, tugging him gently by the hands to encourage him.

Mark chuckled, eyes glinting as he let himself be pulled into your orbit. At first, his movements were a bit hesitant, his usual confidence caught somewhere between the thump of the music and the closeness of you. But your energy was infectious—your laughter, the way you danced so freely, it all made him forget about being shy.

Soon enough, he was matching your pace, still a little clumsy, sure, but no longer holding back. And God, he was having fun. He couldn’t stop smiling. Not when you were so close, not when your body brushed against his in rhythm, not when he could smell your perfume each time you twirled back into him. It was dizzying. It was perfect.

Especially because it was you.

“You weren’t lying about being a dancer, huh?” you teased, voice softer now with the mellow change in music.

The two of you swayed gently, pressed close. Your arms hung loosely around his neck, while his hands rested on your hips—though only after you had guided them there, because he was adorably awkward about it at first.

“Can’t wait to know more about your other ‘hobbies’,” you added, flashing him a knowing smile.

“Oh, so you want to know more about me?” he asked, brows lifting, a smirk tugging at his lips.

“I thought that was obvious since we sat down to talk and have a drink?” you shot back, raising your brows with the same playful energy.

Mark laughed, that kind of breathy, boyish laugh that warmed your chest. “Okay, okay… I was too nervous to notice that.”

His confession had you laughing, your head tipping forward until your forehead rested gently on his shoulder. Mark stood perfectly still, caught in the quiet moment, letting himself inhale the soft, warm scent of your hair.

“Then, I guess I’ll have to be more direct with you?” you asked, pulling back slightly to meet his eyes, your own twinkling with mischief.

“Well…” he gave a sheepish smile, his head swaying side to side. “It might help me out a little.”

That made you chuckle again, the sound curling around his ribs like sunshine.

“Alright then…” you paused, humming as if in deep thought, your gaze flicking down to his lips for a beat too long. “Can I kiss you?”

His heart practically leapt into his throat.

He blinked once. Then twice. “God, yes,” he breathed, the words escaping before he could even try to play it cool.

His endearing reaction had you chuckling and giving him a soft, warm gaze that completely melted him. You moved closer, and he followed without hesitation, as if pulled by some invisible string, completely enchanted.

Your lips hovered just a breath away from his, and his heart thundered in his chest. Then you leaned in, nibbling gently on his lower lip, teasing him with the kind of ease that made his knees threaten to give out.

“You are so cute,” you giggled softly, your voice brushing against his lips like velvet.

Was that even legal? He swore you were trying to kill him.

“You are so beautiful,” he whispered back, voice low and reverent. Then, finally, he closed the remaining space between you.

His hands slid up to your neck, holding you tenderly as if you were something precious—because to him, you already were. His thumbs drew slow, soothing circles just under your ears, grounding him as your lips met fully.

The kiss was soft at first, exploratory, almost shy, but full of feeling. It deepened gradually, growing warmer, more certain, as your fingers curled lightly into the fabric of his shirt.

He only pulled away because, unfortunately, he needed to breathe if he didn’t want to literally die from kissing you (though, honestly, he wouldn’t mind if that were how he went).

“I think I like you,” he murmured, voice soft as he pressed a featherlight kiss to your lips again, his cheeks tinged with the sweetest shade of pink.

“Already?” you teased, giggling. “I think I like you too,” you replied before pressing a quick kiss of your own.

“Can I have your number?” he asked, a little coyly, his eyes glinting with both nerves and hope.

”You laughed again (your ninth time tonight, not that anyone was counting) and nodded. “Yes, Mark, you can.”

“Do you wanna go out tomorrow?” The words escaped him before his brain could catch up, like his mouth had given his heart the reins for good.

“Our official first date?” you asked, smile softening as you tilted your head.

“If you’ll let me,” he replied, hopeful, eyes never leaving yours.

You leaned in once more, lips brushing his in a promise. “I will.”

His lips were pressed into a thin line as he processed everything, eyes wide with disbelief, like he was still waiting to wake up from some wild dream. It was kind of adorable, actually, how unaware he was of his own charm. You couldn’t help but sigh inwardly. Gorgeous, sweet, a little clueless… people like him were everyone’s weakness.

“Can I kiss you again?” he asked, his big, brown eyes flicking over every inch of your face like he was truly admiring you.

“You don’t have to ask.”

And he didn’t hesitate after that. He leaned in, lips meeting yours with more certainty this time, melting into the kiss like it was exactly where he was supposed to be. And as he kissed you, one hand still resting at your neck, the other finding your waist, he swore—whatever this feeling was, it tasted a lot like heaven.

“Is it too soon to say I kinda love you already and would absolutely marry you today if you let me?” he asked with a grin, the kind that made your stomach do somersaults. His tone was playful, but his fingers were gentle as he tucked a strand of your hair behind your ear like you were something delicate and precious.

You snorted, raising a brow. “Let’s calm down a little, lover boy,” you said, pinching his ear gently. “You fall into my arms one time and suddenly we’re planning a wedding?”

He winced playfully, leaning away. “Ouch, noted. Too soon. I’ll dial it back.”

↝ taglist: @nebularsung, @spacejip, @peterm4rker, @sinisxtea

[chenlestarz]

4:27 A.M. | lee haechan

genre: fluff.

wc: 704

author’s note!

i keep having dreams about haechan. totally normal! anyways, please enjoy.

The kitchen is cold, but not unbearable. Just enough to make me wish I'd grabbed socks. I pull my hoodie sleeves down over my hands and stare into the open fridge like something life-changing is going to appear between the orange juice and leftover tteokbokki.

It's exactly 4:27 a.m. I know because the microwave keeps flashing it at me like it's daring me to explain myself. I settle for a slice of cold watermelon and a fork when I hear soft footsteps behind me.

"Watermelon?" Haechan's voice is rough with sleep, deeper than usual.

I turn, caught mid-bite. "You caught me."

He leans against the doorframe, arms crossed, eyes squinting under messy bangs. "You always come down here like a fridge ghost at ungodly hours?"

"Only when I can't sleep." I jab the fork into the fruit and gesture vaguely. "Didn't want to wake you."

He walks over anyway, dragging a chair out with a lazy scrape before dropping into it. "You didn't. I rolled over and the bed was cold. That woke me up."

Something about the way he says it makes me pause. Not accusatory, just stating a fact, like "your absence was noticeable".

I pass him the plate wordlessly. He digs his fork in and takes a bite, chewing slowly before nodding like it's the most profound thing he's ever tasted.

"So," he says eventually, mouth half-full, "what are we thinking about at this hour? The void? Aliens? The meaning of love?"

I laugh, soft and tired. "Actually... yeah. Kind of the last one."

He raises an eyebrow. "Love?"

I shrug. "I don't know. It just hit me, you know? How weird it is. How... quiet it can be."

He watches me, chewing slower now. "Go on."

"I used to think love was supposed to be big and loud. Fireworks. Running through airports. Speeches in the rain." I twirl the fork in my fingers. "But lately it just feels like... this."

He tilts his head, eyes narrowing a little. "Like... watermelon at 4 a.m.?"

I nod. "Exactly. It's not the stuff you see in movies. It's small things. Like someone sitting with you in a kitchen when the world's asleep. It's sharing fruit even though we're both half-conscious. It's..." I trail off.

"...missing the warmth on the other side of the bed," he finishes, voice quieter now.

"Yeah."

He doesn't say anything for a moment. Just forks another bite and chews slowly before setting it down, looking at me like I'm a puzzle he doesn't mind taking his time with.

"I don't think love's supposed to be one thing," he says finally. "But I think when you stop searching for fireworks and start noticing the way someone remembers how you like your rice or lets you play your sad playlists without judgment... that's when you know."

My throat tightens.

"I think I keep waiting for something to go wrong," I admit quietly. "Like this is too good. Like I'll blink and you'll be gone and I'll realize I imagined all of it."

He's quiet, and then he gets up. Slow, sleepy, and walks the few steps around the table to stand in front of me. His fingers gently lift my chin until I'm looking up at him.

"You didn't imagine this," he says, steady and sure, even with sleep clinging to his voice. "I'm here. I'm real. This—" he gestures vaguely between us, "—is real. And I'm not going anywhere."

I try to blink away the sting in my eyes. "But what if it changes?"

"Then it changes," he says. "But I'll still be here. We'll figure it out. You don't have to be scared of something just because it's good."

He reaches down and slides his hand over mine, fingers curling between mine without needing to be asked. "I don't need big," he adds. "I just need you. Even if it's half-asleep and slightly unhinged in front of a fridge."

I smile, leaning forward to rest my head against his arm. "Love is weird," I mumble.

He presses a kiss to the top of my head. "Yeah. But so are we. So it works."

And just like that, I don't feel so restless anymore.

･ ⟢ ⋮ masterlist ゛༝.

⤷ network tags: @neocity-net

[chenlestarz]

⌗ random night-time scenarios with the dreamies

SCENE .. “come here and give me kiss, please.”

꒰ DETAILS ꒱ boyfriend!dream & fem!rea ⋮ ♯ file 000. established relationship, scenarios, petnames && fluff ᵔⰙᵔ

♡ entry .. hi! this is my first post on tumblr! not new to tumblr but i definitely never uploaded my works before and suddenly i’ve gotten the confidence to do so. let me know if you all like this, my plan is to post more in the future. also i apologize in advance for the lack of dialogue in some of these, i did proofread but may still be errors!

MARK LEE

it was cold in your shared apartment, not an uncomfortable cold but cold enough for you to want your boyfriend’s warmth and he was more than willing to give it to you. you’re both cuddled up against the headboard of your bed he’s flicking through channels trying to find something to watch and you’re laid against his shoulder playing with the edge of his shirt. “wait go back to that other channel, what was that?” you spoke softly the room was rather quiet except for the faint humming sounds of the air conditioner that can be heard from your bedroom, mark causally flicked back to the previous channels until you stopped him. the channel was on commercial and it was no telling how long it would be until the original show or movie that was airing would come back on. mark placed the remote on the night stand beside the bed and adjusted his position against the headboard causing you to sit up before he pulling you back towards him. this time his hand found your hip, he gave it a squeeze before rubbing his thumb gently against the skin. you both stayed like that, the silence was comfortable, the faint sound of the air conditioner, the sound of the tv and the sound of both of you breathing was all you both needed, what was on the tv no longer mattered just the quality time that was happening.

HUANG RENJUN

“junnie, did you say you wanted a fork or chopsticks?” you speak from the kitchen, you’re looking through the drawers trying to find a fork just in case that’s what he asked for. you both decided to get takeout tonight neither one of you were in a cooking mood so this was the best option if you two were gonna eat. you made your way back into the living room sitting beside renjun on the couch, “we don’t have any clean forks no one washed the dishes” you chuckled “so we both have to use chopsticks,” “and if i remember correctly it was your turn to wash the dishes? hm?” he asked before putting some of the food in his mouth, “well there’s a logical explanation for why i didn’t wash them!” you tried defending yourself, “and that is…” “i don’t know i didn’t think that far ahead,” you shrugged which caused him to laugh and he laughed so hard he started choking which caused you to laugh while patting his back telling him to stop laughing. it was moments like this, that made you whole or more so content. sharing a laugh with the person you love and sharing food with the person you love was more than enough for you.

LEE JENO

it was a little past 8pm, and both you and jeno are in the bathroom, you’re brushing your teeth and jeno is standing there watching and waiting for you to finish. you spit into the sink turning the water on washing the sink out briefly “you ready?” jeno spoke and you shake your head “not yeah i need to add some moisturizer on my face, can you look in that bin for me please, the bottle is white with a purple lid.” he nodded and walked over to the bin which you pointed at and looked through it, you washed your face with a rag gently patting your face “this one?” he asked, holding up the exact bottle you described you remove the towel from your face and squint in his direction before nodding and he walks over to you place the items on the counter. you toss the rag into the hamper and pump a few drops of the moisturizer onto your face before rubbing it in, “baby, can you please grab my glasses out the kitchen i believe they’re still sitting on the counter.” “ugh, you’re having me do everything tonight why can’t we just lay down?” he begins walking over to you. he picks you up and places you on the counter knocking the moisturizer over in the process, he stood in between your legs his eyes scanned your face like he was looking for something, he wrapped his arms around your body burying his face in your neck “mmm, you smell good.” his voice muffled against your neck, which caused you to giggle at the feeling of his breath on your neck. you’re still wondering if he’s going to go get your glasses or not.

LEE DONG HYUCK

“do you hate me? like seriously.” haechan asks you’re both laying on the couch, his head resting in between your legs, “hmm? why would you ask that unprovoked?” “not unprovoked, you’re scrolling on tiktok when you’re loving boyfriend is right here. unless i’m invisible.” he pouts and you laugh but it’s more like a ‘you’re cute’ laugh, “okay fine hyuck, my attention is all yours,” he shakes his head still pouting, “i just want you to rub my scalp you don’t have to get off tiktok,” “so why didn’t you just say that???” you shake your head, “i have to be dramatic first… you know this.” he gives your thigh a light squeeze, you run your fingers through his hair and he let out a satisfied hum. you go back to scrolling through tiktoks still rubbing his scalp gradually stopping then continuing and haechan is watching whatever is on the tv slowly dozing off at the feeling of your hand running through his scalp. “mmm, focus baby” haechan mumbled you definitely didn’t realize that your hand was no longer rubbing his head “whoops my bad,” and you go back to rubbing his scalp again a few more minutes go by and you stop without realizing again “okay maybe you should give me your full attention, i want to fall asleep but every time i’m about to you stop rubbing my scalp.” he whines, “hyuck my attention is all yours.” you place your phone down beside so that you can give your full undivided attention to him so that he can fall asleep.

NA JAEMIN

“jaem.. are you sleep?” you whispered, you both are laying down in the bed his arm draped over your waist his body pressed against yours and you’re uncomfortable but you don’t want to tell jaemin that you want to wait until he shifts then you’ll move but he hasn’t moved in hours and you still haven’t fallen asleep, “jaem…” you say a little louder and he groans, “i’m uncomfortable,” “turn over then sweets.” he spoke in his half conscious state, and you do as he said turning over, your both face to face expect he’s sleeping. you stare at his face for a while before pressing a few kisses along his jawline and a few on his face, “what are you doing?” he mumbled “kissing you,” “well i know that… why aren't you sleeping?” he slowly blinks awake and your eyes meet “i couldn’t sleep i was uncomfortable and i didn’t want to wake you.” your hand rests against his cheek and he shakes his head, “you could’ve just turned over,” “but you’re a light sleeper i would have woken you.” you said your voice soft, “so you’ll lose sleep because i’m a light sleeper?” he chuckles then placed a kiss on your forehead, “let me be little spoon maybe that’ll help you sleep.” he turned over and you wrapped your arms around his body, your head pressed against his back and you slowly dozed off to sleep.

ZHONG CHENLE

“lele it’s cold out here,” you shivered and he looked at you and laughed, “did i not tell you to bring a jacket?” and you nodded, “here” he took off his jacket handing it to you and you quickly put it on. it was late but chenle wanted to give daegal one last chance to use the bathroom before he goes to bed, “and what if she doesn’t pee this time?” you asked, being sarcastic, “then she’ll pee on the floors and YOU will clean it.” he laughed but you didn't, which only made him laugh harder, “i’m joking” he said still laughing “that joke must’ve really tickled you huh? your ears are red and everything.” he gently grabbed your arm pulling you towards him placing his arm around your shoulders, he sighed leaning his head on top of yours. “you’re still shivering am now i’m shivering seeing you shiver,” he said “yeah i’m like 99.99% sure that’s not how that works, wanna share the jack-” and before you could finish he was already forcing himself inside the jacket with you, “daegal hurry, mom and dad are VERY cold,” he said laughing and you laughed along with him. “yes please hurry, before lele turns into a popsicle his ears are turning red again.” you spoke but your teeth were clinging together because of how cold you were, chenle blew his breath in your face jokingly attempting to warm you up. “lele you’re such a weirdo! your breath is usually hot i guess not this time,” and you fake pout causing him to laugh and eventually daegal goes to the bathroom and you two head inside for the night.

PARK JISUNG

“ji get the eggs out the refrigerator,” he nods, moving past you to get to the fridge. it’s 1am and jisung woke up hungry and so did you so what better way to fix that than some late night ramen? he passes you two eggs before rubbing his stomach “my belly is so empty,” and you giggle “you know hunger is just a mind thing? if you think you’re hungry of course you’ll be hungry.” “wait really?” you nod, “being hungry is a mental thing cause if you aren’t thinking about wanting to eat the feeling will subside.” “so basically i can have your noodles?” he says jokingly and hou both share a laugh, “you wish! especially with me being the one who’s cooking them.” he sighs, he grabs two bowls out of the cabinet “forks or chopsticks?” “uhm, i want a fork,” he nods. you yawn putting noodles into the bowls you add the eggs to the bowls then hand one over to jisung who was already seated on the bar stool, he eats some of the noodles letting out a satisfied ‘mmm’ “i don’t think i’ll be able to enjoy these noodles since i’m so sleepy,” jisung smiles at you, “come here” and you walk over to him with your bowl in your hands, “at least take a few bites then we can go back and lay down, it’s super late at least eat these so that you won’t be hungry again in a few hours.” he said then pressed a kiss on your cheek, “fine.” and you eat some of your noodles “cute, your cheeks are full of noodles” he laughs, “ready to go lay down?” and you nod, you grab his arm and follow close behind him into the bedroom.

[chenlestarz]

HAECHAN? doesn’t he know i’m crazy 😭

[chenlestarz]

OKAY HERE WE ARE for the annon who asked for renhyuck as you neighbors here are the texts🙏 (hopefully you meant texts) but also renjun is nice (ish) and haechan is annoying BUT NONETHELESS ENJOY PLEASE i tried my best even though idk where tf i was going with half of these☠️😛 (yuta sneak)

tw: calling haechan slut 😫

[chenlestarz]

need to make a new pinned

goodbye starrysturniolo hello chenlestarz 😛😛😛

[chenlestarz]

goodbye starrysturniolo hello chenlestarz 😛😛😛

[chenlestarz]

where the day gets softer-

★just a fluffy moment between you and this guy you adore more than anything. ★words : 1k

Your day has been long. The kind of long that sinks into your bones, makes your limbs heavy, makes your brain static. You drop onto your bed the second you step into your room, staring at the ceiling, feeling nothing and everything at once. Moving? Not an option. Thinking? Barely. You just wish you could skip ahead—to the part where you’re clean, wrapped up in blankets, and today is nothing but a blur in your memory.

Your phone buzzes. You ignore it. It buzzes again. You groan, blindly reaching for it, glancing at the screen.

Mark.

Your lips twitch into something close to a smile. Suddenly, you have the strength to lift yourself up on your elbows.

Markie - Hey, babe. You done with classes? Wanna see me for a quick kiss?

Yes. A million times yes.

Your reply is instant, desperate in the way you don’t even try to hide. The thought of seeing him makes something in your chest untangle, makes your ribs feel a little less tight. You sit up, glancing around your room, half-heartedly straightening things up. You should shower before he gets here, at least try to make yourself presentable—

The doorbell rings. Not even ten minutes later.

“Shit.”

You roll your eyes at yourself, but honestly? You’re not mad. You’re already moving, already reaching for the door, already smiling before you even open it.

And there he is.

Messy brown hair. Ridiculously pretty eyes. That smile—the one that always makes your stomach feel like it’s folding in on itself. He steps inside without a word, without hesitation, arms slipping around your waist, body fitting against yours like it was made to. A kiss on your forehead, soft, lingering.

“Hey, pretty girl.”

You exhale against his chest, sinking into him.

“Hi,” you mumble against his chest, breathing him in. Suddenly, today doesn’t feel so bad anymore.

“You got here so fast.” You pull back just enough to look at him. “Were you nearby?”

“Mhm. And I was kind of excited to see you, so I didn’t waste time.” His fingers slide through yours, effortlessly, like second nature. Leading you toward your room, toward the quiet comfort of your space. “Should I have given you more time?”

“No, it’s just—” You hesitate. “I thought I’d have time to shower before you got here. I feel gross. I wanted to look cute for you.”

His head tilts. Something amused, something fond in the way he looks at you.

“That’s an easy fix.”

Before you can ask what he means, he’s steering you toward the bathroom.

You blink. “Wait—”

“If you need a shower, let’s shower.” His voice is soft, but firm, like he’s stating the most obvious thing in the world. “I love being clean. And I love seeing you naked. This is a win for me.”

“You’re impossible—”

You don’t finish, because his lips are on yours, and your brain goes quiet.

It’s slow, unhurried, his hands moving with the kind of gentleness that makes your heart ache. He pulls your shirt over your head, unbuttons your jeans, sliding them off inch by inch. Every movement deliberate. Worshipful. And then his own clothes hit the floor, and the warmth of his skin against yours makes your breath hitch.

The water turns on.

He watches you with something close to amusement as you shiver at the warmth seeping in, presses a dozen tiny kisses across your face, like he’s mapping you out.

“So,” he murmurs, “how was your day?”

You huff, tilting your head up to look at him. “Not great. Until now.”

“On a scale of 1 to 10?”

You pretend to think about it. “Before you texted me? A 3. After your text? A 7. Once you got here? 8. In the shower? 9.”

He hums, pleased. “Excellent. That means I’m doing my job right.” Then, lower, softer—“Turn around.”

You do, closing your eyes, waiting.

For a second, his hands disappear. Your brows knit together. But then—

The scent of your body wash.

The warmth of his palms returning, slow and deliberate, moving over your skin in soft circles.

And just like that, the weight of the day dissolves.

“Mark…”

“Shhh,” he murmurs, pressing his lips to your shoulder. “Let me take care of you. It’ll feel nice.”

And it does. God, it does. You let yourself sink into it. Let yourself exist here, in this moment, where everything is warm and quiet and safe. He rinses you just as carefully, and by the time the water shuts off, you feel boneless.

Then—softness. Warmth. He’s wrapping you in a towel, his hands impossibly gentle. You grip his shoulders, barely thinking, just following. He leads you back to your room, and you let him.

You sit on the bed, half in a daze, watching as he kneels in front of you, rummages through your drawer like it’s his own. He pulls out a pair of underwear, slides it up your legs, his touch featherlight.

“I can do that myself, you know.”

“I know.” He presses a kiss to your knee. “But you need someone to take care of you tonight. Let me.”

He smooths the fabric into place, then smirks. “Though, I usually prefer taking these off of you.” A wink.

You laugh, breathless, fingers sliding into his hair.

“And now?” His voice is quieter, lower. Eyes locked onto yours.

“10/10.”

The smile he gives you is something secret, something warm, something that makes your chest ache.

He smiles, pulling you down into bed with him, tucking you against his chest. His arms wrap around you, warm and steady, and you think—this. This is the safest place in the world. You could stay like this forever, feeling his breath against your neck, letting the rest of the world fade away.

And in this moment, you know. You’ll cherish this. This little pocket of happiness, this unexpected ending to an otherwise forgettable day.

“And now?” he whispers against your ear.

You smile, eyes fluttering shut.

“20/10.”

He kisses your temple.

And just like that, you fall asleep. Wrapped in warmth, in safety, in love.

Mark will always be your safe place. And nights like this always remind you why.

“Goodnight, babe.”

Your last thought before sleep takes you is simple.

You are loved. You are cherished. You are home.

-

[chenlestarz]

• ౨ৎ ────────── 𝐒𝐏𝐎𝐈𝐋𝐄𝐃 𝐑𝐎𝐓𝐓𝐄𝐍 ₊ ˖ ་.

엔시티 드림 ꒰ 𝘸𝘩𝘦𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘥𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘮𝘪𝘦𝘴 𝘵𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘵 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘭𝘪𝘬𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘪𝘳 𝘣𝘢𝘣𝘺 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘭𝘦𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘮

• ( 1010 ) est.relationship 𓂃 bf dreamies! + kissing, pet names, suggestive / ( FLORIHAEI VALUT )

reblogs and feedbacks are appreciated!, phtots are not mine!!, credits to the rightful owner!!( there’s a rich joke in”haechans” and I don’t like it that much so sorry in advance!! florihaei taglist ୨ৎ

MARK LEE !

mark insisted on carrying everything, even your tiny purse. “babe i got it” you say reaching for your bag. he pulls it away with a grin, easily slipping the strap over his shoulder. “nope, to heavy for my baby girl”

you narrow your eyes at him, placing your hands on your hips. “mark baby.. it’s literally lighter than your phone”

he tilted his head, pretending to think. “hmm, it doesn’t matter, what if your body gets sore?, what if you get tired baby?” his voice was laced with amusement, but the way he tucks you under his arm and pulls you close has you smiling

“you’re ridiculous..” you muttered, though you don’t pull away.

“ridiculously in love with you” he corrects you, as he presses a soft kiss to your temple. “now let me be a good boyfriend and spoil my baby yeah?”

you sigh dramatically but you end up smiling even wider when he gives your cheek a squeeze.

-

HUANG RENJUN !

you reach for a cup on the top shelf, standing on your tippy toes and stretching as far as you could. beofre you could even get close, renjun appears behind you , easily grabbing the cup and placing it in your hands.

“what would you do without me?” he teases, resting his chin on your shoulder

“survive” you reply, turning to glare at him playfully

he scoffed, looping his arm around your waist. “doubt it baby, you’re too small and fragile”

“im not fragile” you argued, but he just hums, clearly he was unconvinced.

“mhm sure , but i would rather not risk my pretty girl struggling” his voice is soft as he titled her chin up. his thumb grazing over your jaw before pressing a lingering kiss to your nose. “besides, it’s cute when you try”

you swat at his chest, but the warmth spreading through you was impossible to ignore.

-

LEE JENO !

jeno watches as you struggle to open a bottle of water, your hands twisted at the cap, but with no success. before you can even consider asking for help, he grabs it from your grasp effortlessly, cracking it open with one hand

“jeno.. baby..” you huffed, reaching for it. “i could’ve done it”

he lifted the bottle higher, out of your reach, a playful smirk on his lips. “mm, but why should i when i can just do it for you baby?”

you pout, the smirk softened as he takes your chin between his fingers. “pretty.. i like taking care of you” he murmurs, pressing a slow kiss to your lips before finally handing the bottle to you. “so let me, okay?”

you take a sip, trying to hide your smile, but he sees right through you.

-

LEE HAECHAN !

your standing in the kitchen, trying to wash the dishes, when haechan suddenly wraps his arms around your waist and lifts you off the ground

“you shouldn’t be doing this sunshine” he whines, carrying you away from the sink and placing you gently on the couch. “my pretty baby doesn’t need to be doing chores”

you cross your arms. “and who’s going to do them then?, you?”

“uh no?, that’s why rich people hire maids for” he says. “and since im not rich, ill do it because i love you”

you blink “wait did you just…?”

“shh” he cuts you off, pressing a quick kiss to your lips before rushing to the kitchen. “no more questions sunshine, just sit here and look pretty for me”

your heart feels like it’s doing somersaults, but you’ll just pretend you didn’t hear the way his voice cracked

-

NA JAEMIN !

you’re in bed half asleep, when you feel jaemin shift beside you. he carefully tucks the blanket around your shoulders, brushing a strand of hair away from your face.

“nana… where are you going?” you mumble, reaching for his hand before he can move.

jaemin chuckles softly, leaning down to kiss your forehead. “i was just gonna get some water baby”

you let out a sleepy whine, tugging at his hoodie. “no… stay”

he smiles, lying back down and wrapping his arms around you. “you’re too cute you know that?” his voice is a whisper against your ear warm and comforting.

you nuzzle into his chest as he kisses the top of your head. “okay, okay i’m staying” he murmurs. “not like i’d ever leave my pretty girl alone anyway”

-

ZHONG CHENLE !

you’re running around the house, trying to grab something from the other room, when chenle calls out from the couch. “slow down baby, you’re gonna trip”

“i won-” your foot catches on the rug, and before you know it you’re stumbling forward.

chenle is up in an instant, catching you before you can hit the ground. he steadies you as his hands firm on your waist. “what did i just say baby?” he sighs, shaking his head before pulling you into his arms.

you groan. “okay okay.. you were right”

he smirks, rubbing circles onto your back. “of course i was, my baby is too clumsy for her own good”

you pout up at him, and he kisses your forehead with a chuckle. “from now on just let me do everything baby okay?”

you roll your eyes, but you don’t complain when he picks you up bridal style just to take you back to the couch.

-

PARK JISUNG !

you’re sitting on the floor, playing a video game when jisung suddenly scoots closer and pulls you into his lap.

“jisung baby?” you say, looking at him in confusion.

he wraps his arms around you, resting his chin on your shoulder. “just let me hold you for a bit”

your heart melts. “you’re so clingy” you tease, but you lean into him anyway.

“yeah, yeah” he mumbles, tightening his grip. “you’re my baby so deal with it”

you smile, placing your hands over his. “okay but you better not complain when i call you baby back”

he groans, but you catch the way his ears turn pink.