#i have plans later that i need to get ready for | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

vnti-vntiety-recs · 1 day

Text

Baby, I'm a rockstar (M)

★ PAIRING: Mark x Reader

☆ WORD COUNT: 12k

★ GENRE(S): Band! AU, Exes to lovers, Angst, smut, fluff

☆ SUMMARY: After your boyfriend breaks up with you to focus on his music career, you devise a scheme to get back at him by attending his band’s open auditions. To both your surprises, you end up joining the band. It would be foolish not to seize this opportunity for some well-deserved revenge.

★ ☆ WARNINGS: Unprotected sex, cigarettes, alcohol

☆★ NOTES: Its crazy to think this is my first Mark fic, i hope you all enjoy cause boy is it a ride.

Things were changing: the seasons shifting, the academic year progressing, friendships evolving. Change was a constant force, often leaving you breathless, but in the midst of it all, there was Mark—your anchor, your unwavering constant. You thought your relationship would never change, that it would always be a fixture in your life. You believed you and he would last forever

Until you didn’t.

You gave your friends a quick wave as you headed toward the familiar black hatchback. You often teased Mark about it, calling it his "mom car," and he’d laugh it off, insisting it was just right for all his gear.

Sliding into the passenger seat, you felt that familiar rush of comfort wash over you. You leaned over and planted a quick peck on his cheek. “Hey babe,” you call out.

Mark looks a little stiff, offering a forced smile that doesn’t quite reach his eyes. “Hey, how was class?” he asks shifting the car into drive and pulling away from the curb.

“It was good! Do you have anything planned later?” you ask, trying to gauge if he's up for hanging out.

“Um, yeah, no… I’m meeting up with the guys, I think,” he replies after a pause.

You watch him, your gaze fixed on his side profile as he focuses on the road. Something feels off. Normally, Mark would be all over you—his hand would be wrapped around yours, and at the red light, he’d lean over to pepper your face in kisses. But today, there's none of that. Just an uneasy silence hanging between you like a thick fog.

The light turns green, and he accelerates, leaving you with a curious pit in your stomach. "Is everything okay?" you ask, trying to break the tension.

“Yeah, of course,” he says a little too quickly, his gaze still locked on the road ahead. But you can sense there’s something he’s not saying, and it gnaws at you.

“Hmm,” you respond softly, a quiet acknowledgment that feels heavy in the air. The rest of the ride passes in silence, an uncomfortable hush that wraps around you both.

When Mark parks in your driveway, you step out of the car, ready to shake off the tension. But instead of following you inside, he leans against the car and pulls out a cigarette. He still hasn’t looked at you.

“Are you not coming in?” you ask, a hint of confusion creeping into your voice. He knows he’s not allowed to smoke inside, so it feels frustrating that he’s choosing to linger outside like this. You just wanted to curl up with him for a little after a long day, let the warmth of his presence wash away the weight of your worries.

He takes a drag, exhaling a cloud of smoke that drifts lazily into the evening air. “I just need a minute,” he replies, his eyes fixed somewhere beyond the driveway.

Your heart sinks a little. “A minute?” you whisper to yourself, frustration bubbling beneath the surface. You want to push him to come in, to bridge the growing distance between you. Instead, you stand there for a moment, hesitant on the threshold of your own home, unsure of what to do next.

“We should break up,” he says after blowing a billowing cloud of smoke into the air, his voice flat.

You want to laugh, a harsh, incredulous sound that seems so out of place. This has to be some kind of joke, right? But the way he's been acting leaves you fumbling for certainty. You take a hesitant step towards him, the pit in your stomach growing heavier. “Mark? What are you talking about?” you say, your throat tightening painfully.

“I don’t have time for a relationship. I need to focus on my music. We’re starting to take off, and it’s getting more demanding. It wouldn’t be right to drag you along,” he explains, finally meeting your gaze. The way he looks at you is so pitiful it makes your blood boil, filling you with a blend of anger and heartbreak.

“You fucking asshole,” you sneer, fury clashing with the sadness pooling in your chest. Every emotion you’ve been holding back erupts in that moment. “YOU FUCKING ASSHOLE! HOW COULD YOU!” you cry out in anguish, your voice wavering.

Mark takes a step toward you, his hand instinctively outstretched in a gesture of comfort. But you take a step back, needing to distance yourself from him, from the whirlwind of conflicting feelings. Your heart races as the world around you seems to spin.

Without another word, you turn and rush inside, tears threatening to spill over, rage and sorrow colliding in a chaotic storm within you. You close the door behind you, leaning against it, trying to catch your breath. You can’t bear to look back at him.

You hated Mark Lee’s guts.

Your phone buzzes with a notification—open auditions for a lead vocalist.

You raised your eyebrows in surprise, not expecting Mark’s band to seek a replacement so soon. Although you unfollowed Mark ages ago and deleted all your posts together, you must have neglected to unfollow the band’s page. Perhaps it was a subconscious choice, a reluctance to sever the last connection to Mark. Regardless, you can't help but admit that you still find yourself stalking the page from time to time.

You remember their recent post announcing the departure of their lead singer, and for a moment, the temptation rises to text Mark, taunting him with a message like, "Haha, the thing you left me for bites you in the ass," but you hold back. Still, you can't shake the feeling, and as you scroll through the band’s photos, anger bubbles within you; this band—the very reason he chose to leave—seemed incapable of holding itself together. In a burst of impulse, you grab your jacket and keys, not fully aware of why you feel compelled to go.

As you pull up, the screech of mic feedback cuts through the air, causing you to wince as you approach the commotion. Peeking inside the garage, you spot a small crowd gathered around the center of the garage. Behind the microphone, someone stands, belting out a song you don’t recognize. Judging by the expressions of the band members, it’s evident that this person is struggling to find the rhythm.

You scan the crowd, but there's no sign of Mark, and the unfamiliar vocalist finishes just as your eyes land back on them, leaving the mic open.

"Anyone else wanna give it a shot?" Renjun, one of Mark’s bandmates, calls out. This prompts a wave of glances around the room; it seems everyone else has already had their turn. Suddenly, the attention shifts to you—the unexpected newcomer.

Renjun's eyes widen when he recognizes you, and you realize you have only moments before he runs to tell Mark you're here. Determined, you step up to the mic and introduce yourself, quickly glancing at the drummer, Jaemin. You whisper the song you want to sing, and he nods, finding the beat. As your voice fills the garage, your hands tremble around the mic, the nerves washing over you—you had just wanted to see Mark and maybe annoy him a little, but now you find yourself standing here, uncertain of what you're even doing.

As your final note hangs in the air, a few scattered claps emerge, and when you look up, Mark’s piercing glare meets yours. Once the performance wraps up, and before Mark can get his hands on you, the band members gather inside to discuss. Engaging in conversation with another girl while sipping refreshments from a cooler, you find yourself anticipating what the outcome of the meeting will be. You try not to feel ridiculous for sticking around, you doubt they will choose you but you're secretly hoping to rile Mark up a bit more afterwards.

When the trio of Renjun, Jaemin, and Mark steps out, isn't until now that you realize Jeno had been missing today. Your heart races with curiosity.

"We have decided we want to move forward with Y/N," Renjun announces, and as applause breaks out from the other participants, the girl beside you gives an excited thumbs-up.

Initially stunned by the announcement, a rush of satisfaction fills you when you notice the look on Mark's face—his expression is a mix of annoyance and frustration. Its clear as day that he did not want you to join. You’re full of pure joy, knowing that your presence is likely to ruffle his feathers a bit.

"Nice to meet you, I'm—" Renjun begins, but is abruptly interrupted as Mark rushes past him, grasping your wrist with urgency.

"Sorry, I just need to talk to her for a moment," he says, tugging you into the house. The door closes behind you, drowning out the sounds of the others. As he finally turns to face you, he looks bewildered, as if grappling with thoughts he cannot fully articulate.

"What are you doing here?" he questions, brows furrowed.

“I heard about the audition, obviously,” you reply, grinning.

“The joke’s over, okay? You can go home now,” Mark says. “I know you're only joining to get back at me!”

“Hmm, not quite. I'm also joining to sleep with Jeno,” you reply, shrugging nonchalantly as you lean against the wall, trying to mask the flutter of nerves in your stomach. "Where is he by the way?"

Mark crossed his arms, an eyebrow raised in skepticism. “Right, because you couldn’t possibly be interested in the music.”

You can’t help but smirk. “Oh, please. I live for music. But let’s be real; having a shot at a date with Jeno is a nice bonus. Just imagine how awkward that’ll make it for you when you see us together.”

His face twists up, but you can’t quite tell if he’s more irritated by your boldness or the idea of you moving on. You relish in the tension, eager to remind him of everything he's lost. After all, he left you for the band, and now you were back, ready to disrupt his world just like he had disrupted yours.

“You're childish and you're wasting my time. I know you don’t really care about this,” Mark snaps, exasperation etched across his face.

“It doesn’t matter what you think,” you retort, arching an eyebrow. A smirk creeps onto your lips as you continue, “ I'm sure your band members agree. They voted me in, remember?” You watch as he clenches his jaw, trying to reign in his frustration. “And the last time I checked, you needed a singer—and now you’ve got one.”

“You—” Mark starts, but then he stops mid-sentence, clearly grappling with his emotions.

“Huh? What’s that?” you prompt, leaning in slightly, your voice dripping with mock sweetness. “Exactly.”

For a moment, the air crackles with tension. You can see the conflict in his eyes, the part of him that wants to lash out versus the part that knows you’re right. It’s almost satisfying to watch him struggle, to see the realization that his band’s fate now rests in your hands. The smile on your face widens, fueled by the thrill of the challenge and the satisfaction of reclaiming your voice—both in music and in this ongoing rivalry.

“Let me catch you slip up, I’ll give you hell” He spits, shoulder-checking you on his way out, heading back to the garage.

Oh you were going to have so much fun fucking with him.

You step into the garage, trying to portray an air of confidence even though you feel anything but. You probably should have let it go by now, telling them to pick a different vocalist because you had successfully gotten what you came here for but a part of you still wants to annoy Mark.

It’s the same place where the auditions went down, and while you’re familiar with Jaemin, you've never actually been to his house before then. It’s massive, which makes you wonder why some rich kid is wasting his time with an indie band. You already know all of Mark’s bandmates, but it’s just casual acquaintance stuff.

The garage was spacious with two big doors, and string lights draped across the ceiling, casting a cozy glow as twilight settled in. You clear your throat to announce your presence, and in the far corner, you catch a glimpse of Mark, totally engrossed in tuning his guitar. All you can see is the top of his head as he bends over, adjusting the pegs and strumming an experimental note. He looks so cool, completely in his element, and you can’t help but admire his passion for music. But before your thoughts drift into those bittersweet memories of him writing songs for you and strumming gentle tunes to help you drift off, you're jolted back to the reality that it was that same love for music that pulled him away from you.

Renjun was busy connecting his keyboard and tapping out a few notes, while Jaemin lounged in the back behind his drum set, chuckling at whatever video had caught his attention on his phone. No one seemed to notice you, and it made it tough to muster up any confidence with all their attention elsewhere. Just as you were feeling a bit invisible, Jeno strolled up beside you, holding his bass and grinning brightly.

“Hey, glad you could make it! Mark never told us you could sing,” he said, nudging your shoulder playfully before pulling you into a friendly hug.

You were more familiar with Jeno since he went to the same high school as you and Mark, and even though he was closer to Mark, you’d hung out enough to consider him a friend too.

“Jeno, hey!” you reply, returning his warm hug. Mark finally glances up at the sound of your voice and his expression shifts, hardening as his eyes land on you.

Renjun quickly approaches with an apologetic smile. “Sorry I didn’t see you come in. I’m so glad you could make it.” he says, exuding friendliness.

Meanwhile, Jaemin glances up from his phone, his demeanor indifferent as he remains seated, not offering much acknowledgment. Your gaze shifts back to Mark, who stands from where he was perched but hesitates, unsure if he should come closer or keep his distance, the tension thickening the air between you.

“We’re gonna get started as soon as Jeno sets up,” Renjun announces with enthusiasm. “I can show you around Jaemin’s house. I’m not sure if you’ve ever been here before.”

You nod. “Yeah, I need to use the bathroom before we start,” you reply, lying a bit to buy yourself some time to gather your thoughts.

Grateful for his friendliness, you let him guide you through Jaemin’s impressively large home. His adorable rambling brings a small smile to your face. When you finally reach the bathroom, he asks if you need help finding your way back and you shake your head. “We’ll be waiting in the garage,” he says before turning to leave.

Closing the door softly behind you, you splash some cool water on your face, trying to cool down from the warmth outside and the feelings brewing within you. While you wish you could suppress your feelings of animosity, seeing Mark again stirs something deeper. You channel that negative energy back into focus; you were here for one reason—to ensure Mark Lee paid for what he’d done.

You came back out refreshed, and to your surprise, the rehearsal went a lot smoother than you had anticipated. Renjun was particularly helpful, guiding you through the melody and key of the song as you practiced with the group. His enthusiasm made it easier for you to focus, and together, you worked through complex sections, laughing at the occasional off-pitch note or missed cue.

As the hours passed, you found yourself relaxing and joking around with Jeno and Renjun; their playful banter made the atmosphere feel lively and fun. Jeno, with his infectious sense of humor, cracked jokes that had everyone in stitches, while Renjun chimed in with witty commentary that kept the mood light. Despite Jaemin’s reserved nature, you found comfort in his quiet presence, appreciating the way he seemed to absorb the energy around him without needing to contribute much verbally.

However, Mark remained distant, effortlessly chatting with everyone while giving you the cold shoulder. He kept conversation with you brief and to a minimum. His laughter echoed through the garage, and while it should have made you feel at ease, it only intensified the tension that simmered beneath the surface. You focused on the music and tried to push aside your thoughts about him.

“Wanna go ahead and wrap up?” Jeno asks the group, eliciting sounds of agreement that weave through the garage as members start packing up.

You stand off to the side, feeling a bit out of place since you didn’t know how to help. Trying to be useful, you awkwardly approach the microphone and its stand, glancing around for a spot to place them.

“Where does this go?” you finally muster up the courage to ask Mark, your voice cutting through the uneasy strain between you two since the audition. The memory of his harsh words after that day rushes back, making your stomach churn as he takes the equipment from you without a word, setting it aside with a silence that feels heavy.

Just as the tension begins to settle, Jeno calls you over, his bright energy pulling you back into the moment. “Wanna grab something to eat after this?” He asks.

You take a moment to admire his long hair that frames his face, the dark eyeliner accentuating his eyes, and the way his fitted black shirt showcases the muscles in his arms. Your thoughts stray as you realize you’ve taken too long to respond, his brow quirking up in a teasing manner that makes you flush. “Yea— Yea, I’m free,” you finally reply.

“Anyone else down?” Jeno shifts his bass over his shoulder, glancing around the group.

“Nah, I’m hanging back to game with Jaemin,” Renjun calls out casually, leaving just the three of you.

“Mark?” Jeno asks, turning his attention to him. You catch a flicker in Mark’s eyes—an unmistakable mix of reluctance and jealousy. It’s clear he doesn't really want to go, but even more than that, he’s uncomfortable with the idea of you and Jeno being left alone together. A wicked smile creeps onto your lips as you silently revel in the unfolding dynamic, enjoying the tension in the air.

“Yea, I’ll probably just get a fry or something,” Mark mumbles.

Jaemin and Renjun head inside while you and Mark climb into Jeno's pickup truck, settling into the front seat and leaving Mark to sit in the back. The ride is filled with laughter as you catch up with Jeno, his jokes echoing through the cabin, but when you glance in the rearview mirror, you notice Mark’s jaw tightening in annoyance.

Upon arriving at the small diner, you head inside and take a seat next to Jeno, leaving Mark to sit alone on the opposite side of the table. As the waiter approaches with menus, you dismiss yours and share Jeno’s, animatedly discussing what to eat. You “accidently” kick Mark under the table, looking up at him with an insincere apology.

As the waiter takes your order, the table engages in light conversation. When you mention the cat you recently adopted, Jeno laughs and shares that he has a cat allergy.

“But didn’t you have a cat in high school?” you remind him, prompting him to share some adorable stories about his old cat.

You pull out your phone just as Jeno and Mark launch into a discussion about guitars, and you quickly text Mark,

Are we just going to keep ignoring each other?

You’re surprised you hadn’t deleted his number yet. He chuckles at something Jeno says, but when his phone lights up, you see him check it. He doesn't reply and faces his phone down, prompting you to roll your eyes.

When your food arrives, you all enjoy it. After eating, you excuse yourself to the bathroom to wash off the ketchup and salt from your fingers. Just as you finish in the single-stall restroom and open the door, you find Mark leaning against the opposite wall. He catches sight of you and, without a word, pushes you back inside, shutting the door behind you and pinning you against it.

“You wanted to talk to me, right? Well, here I am,” he says under his breath, trying to maintain his cool. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?” he asks.

“I was using the bathroom,” you reply, rolling your eyes, which only frustrates him further.

“You know what I’m talking about. You’re mad at me, so you’re making it your life mission to get on my nerves.”

“Why would me going out to eat with Jeno bother you?” you counter, tilting your head in faux confusion.

“Because you’re our singer now, and if you and Jeno get mixed up, it might cause unnecessary drama.”

“Right, and not because I’m your ex, and you clearly still think you have some kind of dumb possessive claim over me,” you shoot back.

Mark pushes himself off the door with a huff. "We,” he says, motioning between the two of you, “are not a problem. I don’t care what you do with Jeno. I’m just worried about our band.”

This band could burn for all you cared. You hated the softness that crept into his voice when he talked about his stupid band.

“If you came in here to try to convince me to quit again, you can leave now because I’m not going anywhere. Not everything is about you, Mark. I have my own reasons for joining the band.” You turn to adjust your appearance in the mirror, catching his eyes through the reflection as he steps up behind you, holding your gaze.

“If you think you’re going to win whatever little game you’re playing, you’re wrong,” he says before storming out. After a few moments, you follow him outside. Glancing through the diner's wide glass-pane windows, you see Jeno already waiting in his car as Mark hops in, taking the shotgun seat. The bell chimes as you step out the door, and you jump into the back of Jeno’s pickup truck.

“So, are you gonna quit?” your friend Jungwoo asks.

“I mean eventually. I’m sure they could easily find someone to replace me; I’m not even that good,” you explain, catching your friends up on the Mark drama.

“Waste his time like he wasted yours,” Jennie shrugs.

You were in the campus library working on classwork when you spotted them. They had pulled up some chairs and before you knew it you had put your classwork to the side and started gossiping.

“I mean, yeah, but I still feel a little bad for his members; they’re really cool.” You say.

“Guilty by association,” Jennie rolls her eyes.

“Speaking of band members, are you really gonna sleep with Jeno?” Jungwoo asks.

“I was just talking shit, but he’s been looking really good recently. Like, really good.” You laugh just as your phone rings. Looking down at the caller ID, you see Mark's name flashing.

You’re confused until you glance at the corner of the screen and notice the time—you’re an hour late to practice. You had planned to be a little late today, maybe like fifteen minutes just to irk him, but this was too much.

“Shit, I’m late! He’s going to kill me,” you scramble to gather your things.

Sure, you’re upset with Mark, but it doesn’t feel right to make the others wait hours for you. You answer his second call as you exit the library and head to your car.

“Where are you?” Mark’s icy tone sends a chill down your spine.

“I lost track of time. I’m on the way,” you respond.

“Just hurry up,” he replies, and you can hear his frustration.

You arrive in a flurry, apologizing profusely as you enter the garage. Everyone is already set up and practicing; thankfully, they seem unfazed by your tardiness. Mark looks annoyed but his face is always like that lately. Feeling the tension in your own chest ease a little, you prepare for practice.

You approach Renjun during a break. He flashes a welcoming smile and invites you to sit beside him at the keyboard. “Want to learn something new?” he asks, and you nod eagerly.

He guides your fingers over the keys, patiently explaining the simple notes of Mary Had a Little Lamb. You laugh with him as you fumble through the melody but his encouragement keeps you motivated.

While you’re engrossed in the lesson, Jeno returns from the bathroom, a playful grin on his face. “What’s going on over here? Teaching her the basics, Renjun?” He joins in, teasing you about your lack of musical skills on the keyboard.

Later, as practice wraps up, Jaemin eagerly insists that you check out the photos he took of his cats on his phone, showcasing their hilarious antics. You can't help but smile; getting to know him has revealed just how interesting and quirky he truly is.

Practice is over and you gather your stuff and head to your car. You’re about to pull off when you hear a tap on the glass. You roll down the window to see Mark standing there, and you can’t help but feel annoyed; he only seems to speak to you when no one else was around. It was no secret that you two used to date.

“I do not need a lecture, Mark. I just want to go home.”

“If you’re going to be late, just call,” he replies, prompting you to roll your eyes.

“What did I just say?” You argue, not wanting to hear the rest.

“I was nervous when you didn’t pick up. I thought something had happened.” A concerned look crossing his face.

“Yes, sir. Now can I go?” You refused to apologize again.

Without warning, Mark leans in, gently squeezing your face. “Be on time,” he warns, his gaze daring you to talk back.

You hated that he knew your weaknesses, and as you nodded your head obediently, your cheeks flushed with embarrassment. The drive home felt longer than usual as you willed your heart to calm down, replaying the way he had looked at you with authority. Each beat echoed in your chest, and despite your frustration with him, you couldn’t shake the flicker of warmth that accompanied your thoughts of Mark.

From that day forward, you were never late to another practice, but you found other sneaky ways to annoy Mark. Your main tactic became shamelessly flirting with Jeno, who, unbeknownst to him, was the perfect partner in crime for teasing Mark. Whether it was sharing inside jokes or playfully bumping shoulders, every moment spent with Jeno set Mark's expression to irritation. You reveled in the way Mark's brow would furrow and his jaw would tense, all while you enjoyed the easy camaraderie with Jeno, blissfully unaware of the storm you were brewing. While you did continue to press his buttons there were times when you would find yourself laughing together and enjoying easy conversation. But more times than not, you were bumping heads.

You had invited Jeno over to watch a movie, and now, curled up under the covers, your limbs tangled together felt both thrilling and comforting.

As your time together increased, so did the closeness between you two; nights spent cuddling became an unspoken tradition, sharing warmth and soft laughter. Though you hadn’t crossed the line into sex, you had participated in some heavy make out sessions that had ignited an undeniable chemistry between you. Yet, a part of you recognized the boundary he maintained, an unspoken agreement likely influenced by Mark's presence in both your lives.

As Jeno's hands began to wander, the tension in the room shifted dramatically; his cold fingers sent shivers racing up your spine as they slipped beneath your shirt, making you acutely aware of every sensation. When he leaned down to kiss you, you melted into the moment, returning his kiss with fervor as you moved to straddle his waist. Looking down at him from your elevated position, you couldn't help but smile at the warmth in his eyes. But your phone buzzed on the nightstand, pulling your attention away. You reached for it, settling back against Jenos lap, making him groan, a sound that only added to the heat of the moment.

“What is it?” he asks, his hands caressing your thighs as he waits for you to return to him.

Mark had texted you: Hey, is my old electric guitar still in your closet?

“It’s nothing,” you say, quickly closing your phone.

Leaning back down, you rejoin your lips, grinding against him and drawing out quiet moans. His hands grip your waist, pulling you closer as you both chase the little pleasure you’ve allowed yourselves. The bed creaks as he shifts you under him, reconnecting your mouths in a slow, needy kiss. Your hands grip his shoulders, softly calling his name as your legs wind around his waist, feeling the delicious friction from the fabric of your pajama pants as he grinds into you. He kisses you deeper, biting your lips with a groan while your hands wander, slipping under his shirt and igniting a fire within you both.

He peppers your lips with a few longing kisses before planting one last, reluctant kiss before pulling away. “I’m going to the bathroom,” he calls out as he gets up.

While you wait for him to return, you pick up your phone and start to text Mark, planning to let him know you'll bring his guitar to the next practice. But as you tap the screen, you realize you’ve accidentally started a FaceTime call with him.

On the screen, you see Mark saying something, but you can’t hear his voice due to your volume being down. He looks visibly upset, and you have a sneaking suspicion that he heard everything and knows you were making out with Jeno. Whatever he’s saying isn’t very nice, so you quickly end the call before Jeno come back.

Shortly after, Jeno returns, and you both settle back into the movie night as if nothing had happened.

If things seemed to be getting better with Mark, after that incident, everything was back to square one. It truly was an honest mistake, and you don’t regret it one bit, even if the backstage atmosphere is thick with tension. Today, Mark was giving everyone the cold shoulder while you prepared for your first gig together. You were already nervous, and his attitude definitely wasn’t helping!

Jeno tries to lift the group's spirits with a brief but heartfelt speech, encouraging everyone to have fun and enjoy the moment before you all head on stage. You hum the melody and sing the lyrics of a few songs under your breath, trying to engrain them in your memory. But when you finally step onto the stage and are met with a sea of eager faces in the crowd, a wave of anxiety crashes over you, and you nearly freeze in place. The bright stage lights blind you momentarily, and despite the pulsating energy around you, all you can focus on is the crushing weight of silence as you realize you missed your cue. As the lead singer, you were supposed to introduce the band and set the tone for the night, but instead, you stand there awkwardly, heart racing, grappling with sudden performance jitters.

What had you gotten yourself into?

Just as panic threatened to consume you, Mark stepped in smoothly, grabbing the mic with a confident smile. "We are Limitless, and we hope you enjoy our music tonight!" His voice rang out, energizing the crowd and breaking the tension that had settled over you.

Jaemin laid down a steady beat on his drums, and the music surged to life, pushing you into the rhythm. You made it through the first half of your set without any major hiccups, and with each song, you felt your confidence swell. By the second half, you were fully engaging with the crowd and getting them hyped up with your energy.

As you delivered the closing lines at the end of the show, a wave of exhilaration washed over you. The cheers from the audience ignited a sense of pride.

“That was so much fun!” you exclaim as everyone heads backstage to pack up.

Once you’ve finished, you all exit through the back door, where a van is waiting for you. A small group of girls is gathered nearby, chatting excitedly.

“Omg, you guys were amazing tonight!” they call out as you start loading your equipment into the back of the van.

You assume they’re fans, and since you’re still new, most of them direct their attention toward the other members. Some of the band members pause to chat briefly with the girls, while others sign autographs. You finish loading the van and hop in. After a few moments, Renjun gets into the driver seat and starts the engine. Jaemin, Jeno, and Mark are still outside chatting with fans.

You and Renjun discuss some aspects of tonight’s performance that could be improved when the back door swings open and Jeno and Jaemin slide in.

“Where’s Mark?” you ask, eager to leave.

“He’s not coming, he said to go ahead,” Jeno replies, buckling his seatbelt.

You glance out the window and spot Mark engaged in a deep conversation with one of the girls. She’s a bit too touchy, playfully resting her hand on his bicep as she laughs and jokingly shoves him.

“Is he going home with her?” you ask, disbelief creeping into your voice.

“Who knows. I think she invited him out for drinks.” Jaemin replies, with a yawn.

“Is someone feeling jealous?” Jeno teases, a smirk on his face.

You shoot him a glare as you buckle yourself into your seat, directing your attention back to the window in silence as Renjun pulls away. The car ride back to Jaemin’s house passes in silence, with you not speaking to anyone the entire way.

The next day during practice, Mark strolls in, greeting you with an unusually bright smile. You return the gesture but your heart sinks when your gaze falls to the hickey marring his neck.

Mark’s grin only widens, seemingly oblivious—or perhaps all too aware—of the effect it has on you.

That day, your hands are practically raw from gripping the microphone tightly, and your voice comes out more aggressive than usual as you sing. Each note feels sharper, almost like you’re pouring all your frustration and jealousy into the music.

It’s evident that Mark is in high spirits today, more cheerful than you’ve ever seen him since you joined the group. You can tell he knows you’re jealous, and he’s reveling in it, flaunting that bruise on his neck, knowing it would get under your skin.

Payback was a bitch.

“Come on! It’ll be fun!” Renjun insists over the phone, his excitement evident even through the speaker. He’s trying his best to convince you to spend the night at Jaemin's house with the rest of the crew. Everyone has noticed the growing tension between you and Mark, and you know this is Renjun’s not-so-subtle attempt to get you two to sort things out.

“I really can’t, Junnie. I have classwork I need to finish,” you reply, a hint of guilt creeping into your voice. but t’s true. You’re drowning in assignments, and the time you’ve been spending with the boys was the main cause to blame.

“I promise, whatever you have, we’ll help you finish it!” he insists.

“Don’t say ‘we’ if it’s just going to be you helping me while Jaemin and Jeno are being obnoxious.”

“Mark would help if you asked,” Renjun offers, his tone teasing.

“Mark hates me,” you rebut, a soft sigh escaping your lips.

“No he doesn't idiot. You two are a match made in heaven,” Renjun says, speaking with an air of knowing, as if he’s privy to some cosmic truth about the two of you that you’re both missing. “You need to unwind and relax; we all do.”

After a moment of internal debate, you relent. “Fine. I’ll come over,” you say, reluctantly agreeing. You gather your things, making sure to pack your laptop and all the papers you need to complete.

When you arrive at Jaemin’s house, the atmosphere is chill and relaxed. Everyone is sprawled out in the living room, laughing and joking. You set yourself up at the bar counter, trying to create a little space for yourself amidst the chaos.

Renjun approaches you, his eyes widening as he looks over the stacks of papers you’ve brought. “Holy shit, this is a lot,” he exclaims, his playful demeanor turning serious as he sees just how buried you are in work.

“Yeah, it’s overwhelming,” you admit, feeling a little self-conscious. “This is going to take all night”

As the rest gather around, they look down at the jumbled mess of papers you've laid out. It feels a little intimidating under their scrutiny, but you remind yourself you’re all in this together—sort of.

“You’re never behind on your work. Is it because of the band?” Mark asks.

“I’m trying to balance it. I just got a little behind,” you reply, trying your best to organize your thoughts and papers into manageable piles, hoping to start focusing.

“If you need help, you can always ask. If the band is too demanding, you don’t have to stay,” he adds, and you can feel your temperature rising.

You whip around to face him, your frustration boiling over. “It’s not too much, and I’m not going anywhere! Will you stop trying to get rid of me?” you snap, the words spilling out before you can stop them.

Mark raises an eyebrow, rolling his eyes. “That’s not what I’m trying to say,” he responds, his voice a mixture of exasperation and disbelief.

Jeno and Jaemin, sensing an argument brewing, exchange quick glances before making a hasty retreat, dodging the potential fallout of the impending conflict.

“Hey! That’s not what we’re here for, guys! I will separate you two!” Renjun threatens, trying to interject some humor into the escalating situation.

“I’d be down to watch a good fight,” Jaemin calls from the kitchen, trying to keep things light as he chucks snacks into his mouth. Jeno hits him but fails to hide his own snicker.

Mark raises his hands in defeat, and for a moment, you think he’s going to walk away, leaving you in your sea of homework. But to your surprise, he sits down next to you, grabbing a textbook from the pile with a determined look in his eyes. There’s something reassuring about his presence.

For the next three hours, Mark and Renjun dive into your assignments, helping you to tackle the mountain of homework that had been weighing heavily on your shoulders. The air is filled with a mix of focused silence and bursts of laughter as the boys throw in playful comments and jokes between serious explanations. You can practically feel the burden lifting as they tackle subject after subject alongside you.

Mark’s arm rests casually around the back of your chair, a gesture that feels both familiar and intimate. You can’t help but feel a warmth spreading through you as he guides you through a complicated math equation, explaining each step with patience. You admire his intelligence—after all, he had dropped out to dedicate himself fully to the band, but he was still one of the smartest people you knew.

“Okay, so if we look at it this way…” he says, pointing to a specific part of the equation, his gaze focused on the page. You catch yourself stealing glances at him. When you shift a little closer, trying to get a better look at the page, you notice how the scent of his cologne envelops you.

“Right here, see?” Mark points to the page. “You isolate the variable first, then you can solve for x.”

Your heart races slightly from being so near to him. “Got it,” you reply, trying to focus on the math and not the fluttering feelings in your stomach.

“Try to solve this next one on your own,” he says and he watches you silently as you work through the problem. When you solve it correctly, you look up at him with a smile. Your faces are a lot closer than you thought and you can feel yourself being drawn into him. The way he looks at you ,then down at your lips has wild thoughts racing through your mind.

The moment is interrupted by Renjun returning—snacks in hand and an excited grin plastered on his face. “Look what I found!” he exclaims, breaking the tension.

You and Mark part as Renjun’s presence shifts the atmosphere in the room, and the unspoken connection between the two of you dissipates like a puff of smoke. Mark clears his throat awkwardly, shooting you a shy smile as you hastily close the textbook and begin to clean up your scattered papers, using the busywork to ground yourself in the moment.

“Thanks, guys, you helped a lot,” you say, avoiding Mark’s gaze as you pack your things. “I think I can finish the rest later on my own.”

“Finally! Now can we start the party ?” Jaemin calls excitedly from his spot on the couch, a wide grin plastered across his face, clearly eager to kick off the night’s festivities.

You were sitting in Jaemin's backyard, swimsuits on and alcohol in hand, the air thick with summer warmth and laughter. The music pulsed through the space, blending with the shouts of your friends as they playfully stumbled around in a tipsy haze. Jeno had just pushed Jaemin into the pool, the splash echoing loudly, and the moment Jaemin climbed out, he grabbed a water gun, his eyes twinkling with mischief as he aimed it at everyone. You and Renjun laugh, sprinting away as Jaemin charged after you, water gun blasting away. You were laughing so hard that tears pricked your eyes as you glanced back just in time to see Jeno slip in the grass while trying to escape Jaemin’s wrath. The whole scene was pure chaos, and you were loving every second of it.

“Where’d Mark go?” you wondered aloud, glancing around for his familiar figure. But as the chaos continued, you didn't have much time to dwell on him.

“Look out!” Renjun suddenly shouted, pulling you back just in time to avoid a full blast of water aimed your way byJaemin. You both took off, laughter spilling from your lips as you ran away.

Jaemin's eyes narrowed playfully as he called out, “I think I saw you laughing earlier! What was so funny?” He was slowly stalking towards you, a toothy grin stretching as he prepared to pounce.

“No, Jaemin, stop! I don’t want to get my hair wet!” You yelled, both terrified and amused, knowing full well the inevitable outcome of his playful threats.

You and Renjun take off running again. In your frantic escape, you accidentally lose him as you ran into the house, your feet carrying you instinctively away from the chaos outside. Before you knew it, you had found refuge in the garage. String lights twinkled above, casting a soft glow that illuminated every corner of the space. It was a stark contrast to the chaotic party outside, and for a moment, you paused to catch your breath. That’s when you heard it—the soft strumming of a guitar.

Mark was sitting in the corner of the garage on a stool, his guitar resting comfortably in his hands. He wore nothing but his swim trunks, revealing sun-kissed skin that glistened under the lights. He looked relaxed, almost completely lost in the moment as his fingers moved effortlessly over the strings, creating a melodic sound that filled the otherwise quiet space with a calming warmth.

Caught off guard, you stood still for a moment, mesmerized by him. The sight of his focused expression, the way he seemed to pour his soul into the music, made your heart flutter in a way you hadn’t expected. The soft melody comforts you and you realize it was the song he had written for you when you were together.

You are my rockstar

Without you, I'll always feel alone

When I'm lost, you guide me home, yeah

His voice, slurred but passionate, carried throughout the garage and it pulled you closer. You're standing in front of him by the time he notices your presence, his fingers fumbling over the strings of his guitar as his voice abruptly cuts off.

“I’m sorry, I was—” you begin, uncertain of what to say given the haze of drunkenness clouding your thoughts and the fear of what might come out next.

“Wanna learn how to play?” he asks, and the way his eyes glimmer in the dim light makes them resemble little boba pearls.

Before you can reply, he grabs your hand and pulls you to sit in his lap, the warmth of his chest enveloping you as he settles the guitar across your lap. You feel the heat of his breath against your neck, and with his guidance, you position your fingers over the strings, feeling the cool texture of the guitar under your hands. His hands resting possessively on your hips while he hooks his chin over your shoulder to watch you

“Now strum,” he instructs, his voice coming out in a breathy whisper.

Your heart races as the weight of his warmth settles against you, his body a comforting presence that sends a pleasant shiver down your spine. You glance over your shoulder, catching a glimpse of his sheepish smile.

“Uh, okay,” you stutter out, your voice barely above a whisper.

“Just like that,” Mark says softly, his breath brushing your ear, sending another shiver through you. “Now strum gently.”

You take a deep breath, trying to focus despite the way your heart beats like a drum against your ribcage. As you give the strings a gentle strum, a rich sound fills the small garage. The note rings clear, and you can’t help but smile.

“Good girl. You’ve got it,” he encourages, shifting his weight slightly to make more room for you.

However, as he moves, the guitar slips a little from your grip, and you adjust your seating to hold it steady against your thighs. You feel his hands gripping your waist, and his breath comes out harsh against your neck.

“Fuck, baby. Be still for me,” the way he says it framed by a desperate plea has you sucking in a harsh breath. You can already feel a pool of slick forming in your panties from the pet names you haven’t heard in so long.

You stand up, and the look Mark gives you is devastating, filled with longing and confusion. Setting his guitar down on its stand, you approach him again, straddling his waist and settling onto his lap. Neither of you moves; instead, you lock eyes, the connection palpable as his hands trace your sides, the sensation of his fingers on your bare skin warms you against the cool chill in the garage. When his hands travel down to grip your ass, pulling you closer to grind against him, it feels like the final straw.

You surge forward, kissing him with an intensity he isn't afraid to match; both of you are drunk and the kiss is deliciously sloppy. In this moment, nothing else matters except the way he touches you. You slip your tongue into his mouth, and it tangles with his in a fierce battle of passion. The garage is filled with the sounds of wet kisses, moans, and desperate pleas—the usual music of the night replaced by the melody that you and Mark create as you grip and caress each other.

Your hands couldn't keep still, first tangling in his hair, then exploring the contours of his shoulder blades, and finally tracing down the front of his body. You needed to memorize every detail before he was taken from you again. A moan escapes your lips, feeling Mark’s hands fondle your breasts, igniting a wave of desire.

Memories flood back of when he walked in covered in hickeys, a sudden surge of possessiveness coursing through you. With determination, you trail kisses down to his neck, biting and sucking at the sensitive skin, marking him as yours in a way that speaks louder than words. The urgency and heat of the moment envelop you both, and you lose yourself in the intoxicating rhythm of your bodies.

Mark groans in pleasure, fingers pulling at the strings of your bikini top, ready to take things further when the garage door creaks open and Renjun stumbles in, his eyes slightly glazed.

“We were looking for you guys,” he announces, and you're grateful for his drunken state because he doesn't mention the compromising position you two are in. “The pizza is here, come inside,” Renjun calls casually before heading back in.

The air crackles with unfulfilled hunger as you exchange a look, half-amused and half-frustrated, knowing you’ll have to put a pause on the fire that had ignited between you.

Pizza boxes and cans of soda are strewn across Jaemin's dining room table. You and Mark sit side by side and Renjun sends you a questioning look, curiosity flickering in his eyes. You all munch on pizza while some movie buzzes in the background, mostly forgotten amidst the laughter and playful banter. You try hard to focus on the film, desperately pushing thoughts of Mark away, but it’s proving to be a challenge.

“Not gonna lie, guys, I’m about to knock out,” Jeno announces after his third slice of pizza, stretching exaggeratedly in his seat.

“I call the couch!” Renjun declares, raising his hand.

“Where can I sleep?” you ask, glancing around the room.

“I have a guest room you can crash in,” Jaemin replies, his mouth still full of pizza, making it slightly harder to understand him.

“I can crash with Jaemin. I think the guest bed is pretty big,” Jeno adds, a teasing smirk creeping across his face. You raise an eyebrow, unsure of what he’s hinting at.

“Yeah, the couch is small—no room for anyone else,” Renjun adds in helpfully.

“But the couch has enough room for—” Jaemin winces mid-sentence, and you can only imagine who kicked him under the table. “No room! The couch has no room!”

“I don’t mind sharing the bed,” you say, understanding the unsaid implications hovering in the air.

Mark's chuckle sends a pleasant tingle down your spine, and the way he glances at you, intrigue in his eyes, makes your heart race a little faster. The air is thick with unspoken words, and you can almost feel the teasing energy crackling between your friends as they watch the scene unfold.

“I mean, if it’s okay with you,” he says.

Trying to keep your composure despite the butterflies dancing in your stomach, you reply, “Sure, I don’t mind!” You reply a little too enthusiastically.

The others snicker, and you shoot them a mock glare as you take a sip from your soda to hide the warmth creeping into your cheeks. Jaemin’s smirk grows wider, and Renjun’s eyes twinkle with mischief as they look between you and Mark, clearly enjoying the dynamic unfolding before them.

You place a pillow between you and Mark as you finally settle into bed, trying to create a comfortable distance. He sends you a bemused look, shaking his head in disbelief. “We’ve shared a bed before, what’s with the pillow? Afraid I’ll bite?” he jokes, a playful glint in his eyes.

“Nah, I’m afraid I might,” you reply, shooting him a devilish smile that makes him laugh, the sound warm and inviting.

As laughter fades, a comfortable silence envelops the room, punctuated only by the sound of your breathing and the gentle rustle of sheets. You lie back, staring at the ceiling, lost in thought. The pillow feels like a weak defense as you become acutely aware of the brush of his legs against yours, a gentle reminder of his presence. You can feel his gaze, unwavering and intense, smoldering just off to the side. Reluctantly, you glance over, and your eyes lock with his; there’s a vulnerability there that catches you off guard.

“I miss you,” he says, causing a weight to settle in your chest. The weight of his words hanging in the air, thick with nostalgia and longing.

It sends shivers down your spine, pricking at the old wounds you thought had healed. You feel your heart constrict as your fists clench involuntarily. You take a breath, trying to steady yourself, forcing your voice to remain cool. “You broke up with me, remember?” you reply, your tone layered with a mix of defensiveness and hurt as you shift slightly, seeking to create a physical distance that reflects your inner turmoil.

Mark’s expression shifts, a shadow passing over his face. “I know,” he replies, the weight of the past hanging between you like an invisible thread. “But I thought… I don’t know, maybe we could talk about it? About us?”

“What’s there to talk about?” you ask, trying to keep your voice steady. “It was complicated then, and it’s complicated now.”

“I get that,” he says softly, his tone earnest. “But I don’t want to just pretend like it never happened or that we don’t have this connection. I… I still love you.”

You feel an ache at the back of your throat, past feelings of anger and betrayal surging anew. “Mark,” you start, searching for the right words, unsure whether to push him away or pull him closer.

“I just want a chance to at least figure things out. To see if we can be in each other’s lives again without it being so… awkward.” he replies, his gaze steady.

“I just don’t want to get hurt again,” you admit, the words slipping out before you can stop them.

His expression softens, and he nods slowly. “I understand. I don’t want that either. But I think we owe it to ourselves to at least try, right?”

The air feels thick with possibility, and as you lock eyes with him, you wonder if this is the moment where everything could change, or where it could all unravel once more.

You feel a lump forming in your throat, and for a moment, silence reigns as you grapple with the memories of what once was.

“Mark, you’re drunk. Lets just go to sleep,” you say, clearing your throat, trying to keep your voice steady despite the whirlwind of emotions swirling inside you. You turn over onto your side, putting your back to him.

The air hangs heavy with unspoken words as you stare at the wall, taunted with memories you wish you could forget. You can hear Mark’s soft sigh behind you, but you refuse to turn back. You don’t want to see the look in his eyes.

The room falls into silence, and for a moment, you let yourself drown in your thoughts. You had built walls around yourself to keep the pain out, but tonight they feel so thin, as if they are about to crumble.

As sleep begins to creep in, the stinging in your eyes becomes harder to ignore. Silent tears slip down your cheeks, soaking into the pillow beneath you. You wish you could silence your heart and wish you could push away the longing for what was lost.

Breakfast the next morning is wrapped in a thick layer of awkwardness. The rest of the group exchanges confused glances, just yesterday everything seemed fine. You’re grateful they don’t address the tension directly; there’s a kindness in letting things remain unspoken, an understanding to let things be.

After breakfast, Jeno drives you to your afternoon classes, his comforting presence a small balm on your heart. He gives you a tender kiss on your forehead. “Cheer up, okay? Have a good day,” he says, his voice warm and sincere. You nod, appreciating his attempt to raise your spirits, but the defeated look seems to cling stubbornly to your features, no matter how hard you try to shake it off.

“Okay girl, what’s wrong?” Jennie asks, a worried bite to her tone as she eyes you across the table at your favorite smoothie joint later that day. You know she can see through your attempts to mask the turmoil swirling inside. “Is it Mark? I’ll kick his ass if it’s Mark.”

You sigh, trying to blink away the tears that threaten to fall.

“Oh, he’s dead,” Jennie mutters, standing from her seat.

“Wait! Let’s hear what happened first before you go busting kneecaps,” Jungwoo interjects, laughing softly to lighten the mood.

Taking a deep breath, you gather your thoughts and recount the events of last night, Mark's confession echoing in your mind as you share the details with your friends. They sit in silence, taking it all in just as you had.

When the silence finally breaks, it’s Jennie who speaks first. “I hate him, but I don’t doubt for a moment that he ever stopped loving you,” she says reluctantly, crossing her arms.

“He loves me, but he went and hooked up with some random girl,” you roll your eyes, exasperated. The memory of it stinging.

“Don’t make me defend this man, but you did the same thing,” Jennie counters, raising an eyebrow.

“Whose side are you on?” You shoot back, incredulous. "Besides he broke up with me!"

“Girl, I know you love that man. Let’s cut to the chase,” she insists, her tone direct.

You fall silent at that, unable to deny the truth.

“What she means to say is no matter how far your feet run, your heart will always be with him,” Jungwoo adds, his expression passionate.

You and Jennie both look at Jungwoo, surprised by his words. “OMG, Woo, that was deep,” you say, taken aback.

“Yeah, what the hell? Who are you?” Jennie teases, a playful grin creeping onto her face.

“Very funny. Now let’s stick to the topic at hand,” Jungwoo says, his glare returning to you both. “Do you love him?”

You hesitate, knowing you’re not ready to admit the truth out loud. But the answer bubbles up as if it’s been waiting for this moment. “Yes,” you finally confess, the word escaping your lips before you can stop it.

“Then go tell him before you lose him for the second time,” Jungwoo urges, his voice firm and encouraging.

It's midnight when you finally muster the courage to head to his house. You knock softly on the wooden door, heart racing as you wait for a response. The warm summer breeze flows gently behind you, a soft push from the universe that assures you you’re making the right choice.

After a moment, he opens the door, surprise flickering across his face at the sight of you. “Can we talk?” you ask, voice steady despite the storm of emotions within.

“Yeah, I— yeah," he stumbles over his words, taken aback, but he steps aside to let you in.

You settle onto his couch, fingers fidgeting nervously in your lap, unsure of how to lay your heart bare. Taking a deep breath, you finally find your voice. “Why did you break up with me? Was the band really more important?”

He draws in a breath, searching for the right words. “I know I messed up, and I’m sorry for that,” he says, his voice soft. “It was never my intention to hurt you. I was just…”

You wait patiently, urging him to continue. “It’s not because I put the band before you. It because I didn't want to put you last,” he finally explains, his gaze unwavering. “ I didn’t want to neglect you in favor of the band. I thought you would be better off without me than to be ignored.”

Mark searches your face for understanding, and all you can do is absorb his words. “I love music and I love you, but I was naive to think I could use music to fill the hole in my heart that you left when we broke up,” he finishes.

Tears well up in your eyes, threatening to spill over. “I want us to try again, Mark, but you made me feel like I didn’t matter,” you admit, your voice trembling as the hurt floods back.

Without hesitation, he reaches for your hands, pulling you closer, his warm touch comforting. “You mattered to me then and you matter to me now,” he insists, his expression heartfelt. “I never stopped loving you, I just got lost along the way.”

“Mark,” you whisper, feeling the tightness in your chest begin to ease, “I love you and f you hurt me again, I will break your stupid guitar over your head,” you joke lightly, laughter escaping through a sniffle, a gentle tease after the heaviness of the moment.

A laugh escapes him, filling the room with warmth as he squeezes your hands. “Fair enough. I promise I’ll do everything I can to make this right.”

It feels like a heavy burden has been lifted from your shoulders, and for the first time in what feels like an eternity, your heart feels light. When you look at him, the truth in his words shines clearly in his eyes. As he leans in hesitantly, testing the waters, a spark ignites your courage, and you meet him halfway, pressing your lips against his softly.

The connection floods back to you in waves—electric, familiar, and exhilarating—reminding you of everything you had missed while he was gone. You realize, in that instant, how much hurt your heart had endured in silence.

The way you kiss each other speaks volumes; there’s a desperation in your connection, a silent vow to never part again—even for a breath of air. Mark is your lifeline. His hands cup your face, caressing you lovingly as he deepens the kiss. The heat from the other night returns, but this time it’s clearer, more intense. There’s no alcohol fueling this moment, just raw passion entwined with affection.

As he finally pulls away, you find yourself lost in the soft features of his face and the way his kiss-swollen lips curve into a half-smile, igniting warmth in your chest. You smile back, and an unspoken understanding passes between you as you stand, gently leading him toward his bedroom. He walks you backward until your legs hit the edge of the bed, a flurry of kisses trailing along your neck and shoulder, igniting every nerve in your body. You fall back into the plush covers, sinking into the softness as you scoot back, urging him to join you. He crawls over you, eyes filled with longing and tenderness as he rejoins your lips.

"I'll never forgive myself for hurting you," he mumbles breathlessly against your lips, and for a moment, you feel the weight of his regret settle heavily between you.

You hold his face in your hands, searching his eyes as you reply, “You have plenty of time to make it up to me.” There’s a playful glint in your eyes, an understanding that this is an opportunity for healing.

With a deep breath, he begins to strip you of your clothes. As he kisses down, you realize each gentle kiss is a whispered apology, each caress a promise. He parts from you just long enough to discard his own clothes, the anticipation building in the space between you before he settles between your legs, his dark eyes locking onto yours with an intensity that makes your heart race. As he flattens his tongue against your core, the heat of his mouth seeps deep into your bones, sending shivers of pleasure coursing through you. Your eyes threaten to roll back in sheer ecstasy, but the familiar, smoldering look in his eyes captivates you, sending you a message you read all too well.

Eyes on me

You can’t look away as he licks a bold stripe through your folds, his lips capturing your clit and sucking it into his mouth, flicking it teasingly with his tongue. Each sensation is a delicious blend. It was messy and dirty but he knew that's exactly how you liked it. Overwhelmed, you throw your head back. You arch your back in pure pleasure, but he pulls away instantly.

Taking your hand in his, he interlocks your fingers as the other wraps around your thigh, pulling you closer, his voice a soothing whisper. "Baby."

You know exactly what he wants, and when you meet his gaze again, he rewards you. He dives back into you with fervor, reminding you just how deeply he’s missed your taste. He plunges his tongue deep and thoroughly, before finally pulling away, his face glistening with your arousal. As he licks his lips hungrily and leans down to kiss you, you're eager to taste yourself on his mouth.

You can feel his hips pathetically rutting against you, the rhythm desperate yet filled with a yearning that matches your own. His tip, sticky with precum, glides between your folds as he presses his body into yours from above, a teasing reminder of just how close he is. You need more; you want all of him.

With a daring touch, you reach between your bodies to guide him to your entrance. “Let me have you, don’t make me wait any longer,” you whisper, your words laced with an ever deeper meaning.

He captures your lips in a heated kiss, before he slowly begins to press into you. The sensation is overwhelming; it’s a stretch, and you realize you haven’t been with anyone in a while. Mark's size only heightens the intensity of the moment, making you acutely aware of every inch as he fills you completely.

He pauses, giving you time to adjust, the tension between you thickening as he watches your reactions. “Are you okay?” he asks, breath slightly ragged as he searches your face for any sign of discomfort.

You nod and bite your lip, urging him silently to move. As he starts to thrust, the pace is slow, but each movement stirs a fire deep within you. Your body responds instinctively, arching toward him, craving the intimacy. More, you think, needing him to delve even deeper to reach the parts of you that have ached for his touch.

“More,” you whine.

In response to your plea, his hips begin to quicken their pace, urgency surging through him as his hips snap against yours. The room is filled with the mingled sounds of your breaths, the slickness of your bodies moving together. He thrusts into you with precision, driving deep and filling you completely, leaving you breathless. You claw the sheets, gripping them tightly as he fucks you into the mattress.

"Like this, baby? Tell me what you need…fuck, just tell me and it's yours," he groans, his brows furrowing in desire and determination.

Your voice fails you, caught in the whirlwind of sensations that flood your body with each thrust. You want to tell him how good he makes you feel, how much you love him, how much you've missed this—missed him—but all that escapes your lips is an unintelligible mix of moans and gasps as he grips your hips, anchoring you down with a possessive hold as he pleasures you.

In response, he leans down, his breath hot against your ear, and whispers, “Let me hear you, love. I want to know how good it feels. Let go for me.”

“Just like that,” you manage to breathe out, eyes rolling back in pure pleasure, and it drives him to thrust even harder, eager to send you both over the edge.

And a wave of pleasure crashes over you, pulling you into its depths, you can only grip onto Mark so you don't drown. You can feel his hips stutter and you shiver as his warmth fills you up deliciously.

You finally part, both panting and spent yet glowing with satisfaction. When he rolls over, you find yourself instantly pulled back into his embrace, his strong arms encircling you like a blanket of safety and warmth.

Nestled into the safe embrace of Mark’s chest, you breathe in deeply, allowing the familiar scent—warm, comforting, and distinctly him—to envelop you. he begins to hum a soft tune. It’s a song you know well, one that was often played during quiet evenings spent together. The notes drift effortlessly through the air, and as he hums, you can almost hear the lyrics echoing in your mind. As he reaches the end of the song, sleep finally claims you. The soft whispers of the song echo like a sweet serenade.

When nothing adds up, I'll be your number

You're a 106 and I'm 94, yeah

#mark lee smut #mark lee x reader #mark lee imagines #mark lee fanfic #mark lee #mark lee hard hours #mark lee angst #mark lee fluff #nct dream smut #nct dream imagines #nct dream fanfic #nct dream angst #nct dream x reader #nct 127 fanfic #nct 127 smut #nct 127 scenarios #nct 127 x reader #nct 127 imagines #nct 127

193 notes · View notes

potatomountain · 1 day

Text

CIY- CH 24

Chapter Twenty-Four

📍Pairing: detective ateez ot8 x detective afab reader 📍Summary: "Turning Point" 📍WC: 3.3k 📍AU: detective/mafia 📍Genre: action, dark themes, poly romance 📍Warning(s): 18+ rating, some angst, dark themes implied, oral (male receiving), body piercings, cum-eating, semi-public sex, slight voyeurism/exhibitionism 📍Nets: @pirateeznet | @mirohs-aurora-society 📍Beta readers (and sole motivation): @flurrys-creativity , @candypop1611 , @yourfatherlucifer , @skteezcursed and edited(usually) by the amazing: @daemour 📍dividers made by: @cafekitsune 📍AN: As a birthday gift to me (9-24) I am posting this hecka early. But also annoucing that there will not be another CIY posting until after October (most likely. who knows, i might get impatient myself) as ill be focusing on Kinktober and some fics i have planned for October! There are 6 chapters left (roughly) so please enjoy <3

masterlist | Previous | Next

Three weeks. Three weeks had gone by and you had to admit, you missed them. Well, some of them. Wooyoung’s incessant need for you. San and his flirting- his dimples. Yeosang’s cute little lisp and the sound of him tapping away on his keyboard. Hell you even missed hearing Mingi fuck others and keeping you awake at night. You might even miss Jongho’s constant scowl in your presence.

Seonghwa had been taking you to and from the club every night, five nights a week, and would tell you to rest the other two. You wouldn’t come into the office but now you wanted to. Maybe then you could do something about this odd bundle of emotions in your stomach. Yeosang sent you instructions on how to fill out a report of your undercover work on the program he installed in your laptop, which automatically stored the vital information and categorized and compared it with the rest. So in short, now you couldn’t even tell them about the new rumors you’ve picked up at the club.

At least now you knew why they were so busy, far too busy for you. The Vipers and the Wolves were still at each other’s throat, fucking up cash grabs, stealing product, or raiding known businesses of the other. San told you he was cleared to head back to fighting soon, and it worried you that the Wolves would hit the fighting ring while he was there.

But, what could you do about it? Undercover work was something that took months to years to gain enough influence to make a difference. You were nothing more than a fly on the wall gathering information, searching for weaknesses to use against the big players. A slip up that could get them behind bars.

Once more you thought of the dead boy in the alley. Once more you pictured someone else as that dead body. And once more you realized that, as a detective, there was nothing you could do to prevent that. It was a frustrating feeling.

And that’s why you found yourself heading to the gym on your next free day, ready to punch the frustration out or work up enough of a sweat that your muscles would be screaming at you until tomorrow.

It was a nice sweet surprise to find Hongjoong there, working on one of the machines, a thin sheen of sweat coating his bare arms and calves. He was wearing a hat, black tank and black gym shorts with an airpod in as he was chatting with someone. He didn’t notice you at first, but when you got close enough to hear his conversation, you frowned at how quick he hung up when he did notice you. “I’ll call you back later.” The weights dropped as he let go of the handles to turn the call off, shifting to look up at you with a bright and charming smile despite your deepening frown. “Firecracker, lovely to see you here.”

“Cut the bullshit” you weren’t having it today. Had the three weeks away changed something? Had your observations just been wishful thinking? Why was he hiding things from you? They still didn’t trust you fully did they? Ah, that hurt. Hongjoong seemed to catch on by your tone and stance, the smile softening to something more genuinely welcoming. “It was San, he was giving me an update on the Vipers I-” “Am I not allowed to hear what you had to say?” You cut him off, still staring him down. You shouldn’t be getting so worked up, you really shouldn’t.

But Hongjoong seemed good at reading you, reaching out and holding his hand palm up. “Would it ease your mind to know what is going on? What he was telling me? Or can I ask you to trust me on this, and you can learn all about it later?” You stared at his hand for a moment, eyes running up his arm to the tattoos that covered his bicep. Briefly you glanced at the ink before meeting his eyes. “It’s a delicate matter?” You decided to ask, arms uncrossing to rest at your sides. “Yes. The war they have going on is turning into a bloodbath.” He didn’t elaborate, just smiled wider when you did take his hand finally. Gently he pulled you closer.

Relaxing a bit further, you let him. He didn’t need to explain, because you realized what he meant. The Vipers were losing everything, and the Wolves would take what they could from them. Killing, maiming, or selling off each member or even associate. “I see… what are we doing about it?” He lifted a brow at your choice of words, pulling you right between his knees and holding both of your hands. You don’t know why he insisted on this sort of touch, but you didn’t mind one bit. “Nothing we can do. We can’t pull San out safely, but there isn’t a way we can stop the Wolves either. Not without risking more. Did you come here to blow off some steam? Worried about him?” Slowly you nodded, staring at your joined hands. “I don’t want to punch anything, just not think. The Boas don’t care much for either, but I hear how ruthless the Wolves are. They’re scared of them much more than the Vipers and-” Your words were cut off as he pulled you onto his lap. “Captain?” “How do you think San can get out of this unscathed? I’m worried too, Firecracker, and even if we can’t do much, it’s better to have some hope that something can happen to save him. Right?” He was comforting you, wasn’t he? The notion had your cheeks warming, mind shifting to the question. With everything you knew, what needed to happen for San to be truly safe from the Wolves? “I… well the Vipers are no match for the Wolves alone but if they had help… then San’s chances of- well you know. The Guardians are the only ones who can stop the Wolves, but I don’t see how they would get involved. Not unless this war causes significantly more damage, or they believe it will.” Your original thought was the Guardians getting rid of the Wolves anyways. After all, the more you learned about them, the more you realized that the biggest, scariest monster out there was the Wolves. The Vipers would be easier to take down, same with the Goblins. The Golden Circle could just be bought out, most of them just greedy cowards. And the Guardians and Pirates? They cared more for regulation to an extent than chaos.

The Wolves enjoy being cruel for cruelty’s sake. Sadists, killers, men who wanted to see the world burn and wanted to be the hands responsible for it. People were toys to them. Ones they wanted to break and use any way they saw fit.

You’d rather see San with his busted lip and black eye from a fight in the ring rather than the possible torture the Wolves would put him through. “The Wolves won’t stop until every last Viper is dead or turned to them or sold. I’d rather the Vipers win, and that can't happen without the Guardians. Either working together or the Guardians step in to apply pressure to the Wolves to back them off.” Hongjoong’s sudden bright smile threw you off and you were on your feet in a second. “What?” He chuckled, just to pull you back down with enough force you tumbled into him, hands on his chest and lips suddenly on his. He swallowed up your squeak, pulling you fully onto his lap as his tongue sought yours. You hadn’t expected it, but he tasted so good that you didn’t want to pull away. Yet as soon as melted into him, he was separating your mouths. “You really are a genius, I think. That’s something we never thought of.” You blushed at his compliment, staring up at him as his fingers carded through your hair. “What ideas did you have?” “Ones that involved what the Vipers alone could do, or we as detectives. Sometimes we forget to take a step back and see all this from a different angle.” “I see… but can we really do anything like that?” He shrugged. “We could have Wooyoung or San suggest it. If the Vipers are smart, and want to survive, they’ll latch onto that idea hopefully before it’s too late.” Pride swelled through you, as well as respect. Hongjoong did respect you, to go from easing your worries, to turning your thoughts into something productive, and then backing your idea as an equal. All while he was kissing you, touching you, melting you in his arms like you were his lover.

“Captain-” “Please call me Hongjoong, or something like that outside the office. Especially when you’re in my arms like this.” He stopped you, arm tightening on your waist while his other hand massaged your scalp a bit. He chuckled at the pleased sound you made at the touch.

“H-Hongjoong… did Seonghwa- ah Hwa- tell you about…” You trailed off, eyelids getting heavy the more you relaxed in his embrace. He nodded. “S-so you know how much this means to me?” “I do, Firecracker. And he told you how things work, and his unofficial invitation?” When you nodded, his hand tightened in your hair enough to pull an unexpected moan from your lips. “I’m going to take how pliant you are in my arms as an acceptance of that if you keep this up. Wooyoung might be the most vocal about his desire for you, but I feel it just as intensely.” Your hands gripped his tank tightly, lips parted as you enjoyed the way he was getting a bit rough with your hair. Massage, then tug. Smooth then tug harder. “Then why pull me onto your lap?” “To treasure you, though I didn’t think you would let me.” He admitted, shifting you on his thighs a bit until you could feel his hard on against the side of your thigh. “Yeosang is going to get another show at this rate.” Laughing under your breath softly, you shifted on his lap. “Good. I’m not too happy about him telling you all about San and Chan. He likes to watch and then run his mouth to you all? I should show him what he’s going to miss because he’s always hiding behind those screens.” Detaching yourself from Hongjoong, you stood back up between his legs, wrapping your arms loosely around his shoulders to card your fingers through his hair at the base of his neck, just under the cap. Latching your lips onto his to keep him from questioning you, your mind wandered to Yeosang and the expressions he made when he had been watching you and Wooyoung. Would he make those now? Better yet… What expressions would Hongjoong make?

With your lips still attached, brushing over his soft ones, letting him chase yours with each stroke, your hands ran down his chest. His shirt stuck to him with damp sweat, muscles tensing under your fingertips: first over his pecs, which had a nice curve to them, and then over his stomach. The lower they got, the more desperate his lips on yours.

The sound he made, the breathy whine as you cupped his sizable bulge in his shorts, turned you on even more. So eager to see just how far you could push him.

In a way, this was your first time initiating with them. As you slipped down onto your knees, palming at his hardening cock through the material of his shorts, you acknowledged the fact he hadn’t asked for this, or done much to make you want him: you just wanted him, and wanted to do this. Wooyoung had begged and begged. And Mingi had wanted to prove to you how much he wanted you. You just let them have the opportunity, reaping the ecstasy they gave you. And as much as you loved taking what they had to offer, you wanted to give back as well. In particular to the man before you. The man who was trying so hard not to pull your hair too much. Who was gripping the seat beneath him as his hips rolled up into your hands, pretty lips parted and swallowed from your kisses.

If Hongjoong had turned you away, or tried to block you at every turn like you had expected him to do before meeting him, you wouldn’t have this growing warmth in your heart at every thought of them. The swell of pride at your ongoing work. You wouldn’t have a confidant in San and Seonghwa. Wouldn’t have the eager lovers Wooyoung and Mingi. The witty banter of Yunho and Yeosang.

And perhaps, pressing your lips to where you could feel his tip twitching beneath the material, you wanted to convince them that they had to have you, just as you had to have them.

Selfish, greedy, maybe a little manipulative: that’s what you thought of yourself as you pulled his shorts down enough to expose his cock, staring up at him with a question in your eyes.

Maybe you were all those things, but it was worth it as he tightened his hold on your strands significantly and pulled you against his cock, smearing the bit of precum and sweat on your lips and cheek, pleading with you. “Take what you want, gorgeous, I’m yours to use.”

How could you deny him- deny yourself- when he looked so delectable like this?

Taking the invitation for what it was, your tongue ran up his length as your hands worked his pants down further. His words rang in your head, the adoration mixed with lust in his expression adding to the pit of emotions coursing through you.

With your lips wrapping around his tip, eyes focused on his expression, you marveled at the warm metal now clicking against your teeth. Quickly you pulled away and glanced down, breath hitching at the metal bar on the underside of his tip, right through the soft flesh in between the twi curves of his hood. “Oh fuck-” Mingi and him? Different places but you could remember how the piercing felt… if you took Hongjoong inside, you’d feel the metal scraping against your walls and the thought had you dripping in your underwear.

Wanting him to want that just as much, you took him back in your mouth, humming as you quickly took as much of him as you could. His eyes rolled back momentarily, breath hitching and fingers curling in your hair. He could fuck your mouth right now and you’d let him.

You’d let him do a lot of things if he continued to let out sweet whines like the one that just fell from his pretty lips. He wasn’t small, but definitely not Mingi’s size. But Hongjoong never needed size to get his point across, or for you to notice him- there was much more about him and the man utilized that to command a room and gain a grip on anyone he wished.

Right now you were the one in his grip, both figuratively and literally, as you pushed his shorts down and spread his thighs wider. Shuffling a bit closer, you took more of him in, humming around his cock once more as it hit the back of your throat, nose so close to his pelvis, but you managed. The sweat didn’t bother you, neither did the feel of the hard floor under your knees, not when he seemed to be unraveling at your touch. You were enjoying him so much you swore you could suck him off for hours without a reprieve. So what if your throat was sore? If you were tasting his cum and sweat for hours after with every drink and food you devoured? Pressing your tongue up as you pulled off his length, sure to add even more pressure to the piercing and was rewarded with a whiny moan as his body reacted: hips bucking and hand tightening in your hair to hold you still.

Oh so it made him sensitive?

Bobbing your head back down, taking as much of his length as you felt comfortable with, you focused more attention on his tip. Every time you pulled away you added pressure, letting your teeth scrape against it or twisting your head just enough as you pushed back down.

Hongjoong was noisy, between high pitched pants, to low curses under his breath, his fingers in your hair a give away to what he liked best. You used that to your advantage, nails digging into the inside of his thighs when you realized he liked that.

“Ah- fuck- gorgeous- Gunna make me- mmm fuck fuck~” His head kept rolling back but he would push forward to watch you as much as he could, mouth hanging open, teeth clenching in little hisses of pleasure. You hummed and moaned around his cock, picking up pace and pressure as your own need was clouding your thoughts. Have him cum first then maybe you could convince him to fuck you in the showers.

Your nails dug into his thighs more when he started pushing you, just slightly as if guiding, down on his cock. His head rolled back again, moans gaining volume as your name and praise joined the sweet sounds.

In awe of him you nearly choked when his thick cum hit the back of your throat in spurts. You pushed away a bit, lips still latched onto his twitching tip as he emptied his pretty balls on your tongue.

He lifted his head once he was spent, panting heavily and meeting your gaze. He slipped out of your mouth with a loud pop, your tongue lolling out to show the bit of cum still pooled there before you made a show of swallowing it.

“Fuck, Firecracker… I didn’t expect you to do this.” He smoothed out your hair, your scalp a little sensitive from how hard his grip had been.

Smiling, you rested your head on the inside of his knee, smoothing over the crescent marks you had made with your nails and admiring the piercing on his softening cock. “I wanted to. Wanted to show I want you too. I know I wasn’t as… vocal about it. Maybe with work but not in this way.” You tilted your head to look up at him, licking your lips and still tasting him on them. “If you have time… would the showers be private enough? I think Yeosang got enough of a show.” He chuckled, pushing the hair out of your face before gently tapping your cheek. “I should. Stand up for me?”

Once you did you watched as he pulled up his underwear and shorts. Now you had a moment to admire the work on his arm, you liked learning about them and most people got tattoos that represented a part of them. Plus, tattoos were big in the underworld, often a way to show your rank or who you belonged to.

You noted a few portraits, black rimmed hats and masks, the eyes sharp. There were eight, you counted, surrounded by waves with… with a pirate boat detailed on the upper part of his arm.

He called your name, moving just as you took note of a few letters on his arm. Sex was no longer on your mind, your brow furrowed as your mouth fell open to speak the first question that formed instead.

But the words were overshadowed by an alarm ringing through the gym and Hongjoong cursing. “Fuck- there’s an emergency.” He quickly pecked your cheek. “Head back to your apartment and wait for a call? I’ll let you know when everything’s okay.” He started grabbing his other things, but you were in shock.

The alarm turned off once he was gone but you were still rooted in place.

From the letters you had been able to make out, two of them had been “B” and “P”, just like Mingi had.

Were they part of the Black Pirates? Were they… the enemy?

Taglist (Capped): @mingsolo | @wowie-hockey | @crispybaguettes | @tiny-apocalypse

Taglist will be continued in a reblog!!

#pirateeznet #mirohsaurorasociety #ateez fanfic #ateez ot8 #ateez smut #ateez x reader #ateez fanfiction #ateez fic #ateez x y/n #ateez x you #poly ateez x reader #ateez hongjoong fanfic #hongjoong x reader #hongjoong smut #ateez hongjoong smut #hongjoong fanfic

140 notes · View notes

swiftiethatlovesf1 · 3 days

Text

Love strategy p.6

Hi guyss, here's the new part and part 5 if you've missed it. Let me know what you think about Lando's secret, revealed in this part.

You had thought—hoped, really—that it would take a few days for the rumors to spread. After all, the video from yesterday still needed to be edited and published. Surely, you had some time before the media circus descended on you and Lando. But by the time Friday rolled around and you walked into the paddock with your colleagues, you were proven very, very wrong.

The moment you stepped foot inside, the air seemed to shift. Journalists’ heads turned, their eyes locking onto you like you were fresh prey. You barely had a second to register the shift in energy before you were surrounded. A sea of reporters, cameras flashing, and questions being hurled in your direction from all sides.

"Is it true about you and Lando?" "How long have you been seeing each other?" "Was it love at first sight?" "Is this a paddock romance?"

Your heart pounded in your chest as you tried to navigate the sudden onslaught, feeling trapped by the sheer number of people crowding you. You opened your mouth to say something, anything, but the words caught in your throat. Panic surged through you as the cameras pressed closer, the barrage of voices overwhelming.

Suddenly, a familiar voice cut through the chaos. "Hey! Back off!"

Carlos.

Before you knew it, he was by your side, his tall frame creating a protective barrier between you and the journalists. His presence was like a lifeline, grounding you as he expertly guided you through the crowd, waving off the reporters with a sharp glare.

“Come on, let’s get out of here,” Carlos muttered under his breath, keeping a firm hand on your shoulder as he steered you toward a quieter area behind the paddock.

Once you were finally out of the media's reach, Carlos turned to face you, his expression softening. “Are you okay?”

You exhaled shakily, still trying to process what had just happened. “I didn’t expect this to blow up so fast,” you admitted, your voice small and slightly breathless. “I thought we had more time.”

Carlos’s eyes softened further as he nodded, his usual calm confidence still present but tinged with concern. “Yeah, well, things in this world don’t stay quiet for long,” he said, offering a small smile. “But if you need anything, or if it gets too much, you can always count on me. I’ve got your back.”

You looked up at him, grateful for his protectiveness. There was something so reassuring about Carlos in moments like these—the way he didn’t make you feel weak for being overwhelmed, but rather like he understood the pressure and was ready to shield you from it when needed.

“Thanks, Carlos,” you said, your voice steadier now. “I really appreciate it.”

He shrugged, a faint grin tugging at his lips, though his eyes remained serious. “You don’t need to thank me. Just… don’t be afraid to ask for help, alright? I know Lando’s involved now, but this place—it can be intense. You shouldn’t have to deal with all of this alone.”

His protectiveness was palpable, a comforting presence in the whirlwind of everything that had happened. You nodded, feeling the weight of his support.

“I won’t,” you promised.

As you walk back to your team’s section of the paddock, you can’t help but feel a little giddy. Carlos’s protectiveness, the way he stepped in and shielded you from the press—it had caught you off guard in the best way. You weren’t used to him being so attentive, so present. It felt… nice. Almost like the plan was working.

With a smile tugging at your lips, you pull out your phone and quickly type a message to Lando.

You: So, guess what? You: I think the plan’s working—Carlos totally noticed me more today.

A moment later, Lando’s reply comes in, and you can practically picture his smirk on the other side of the screen.

Lando: Oh yeah? Told you it would work. Carlos can’t help but pay attention now. Lando: How was he?

You: He was great, actually. He helped me get away from the press—really protective. It felt like he actually cared.

You pause, biting your lip as you type the next part.

You: What about your mysterious girl? Has she reacted to the news about us?

For a few moments, Lando doesn’t reply. You wonder if maybe you’ve hit a sore spot, given that this whole fake relationship plan was also meant to get his crush to notice him. You know how much he cares about her, how he’s been pining for her, waiting for her to finally see him the way he sees her.

When his response finally comes through, it’s a bit more subdued.

Lando: Yeah, she’s noticed. Lando: Since we started this, she’s been paying more attention to me. But… she still doesn’t see me like that.

You frown at the screen, feeling a pang of sympathy for him. Lando’s always been so easygoing and lighthearted, but you know how much this mysterious girl means to him, even though he’s never revealed who she is.

You: I’m sorry, Lando. That sucks. You: But maybe she just needs more time? I mean, this whole thing with us is still new, right? Maybe she’ll come around.

You mean every word, wanting to comfort him, to give him hope. He’s been nothing but supportive through this whole fake relationship ordeal, and the last thing you want is for him to feel disheartened.

What you don’t know, what Lando hasn’t told you, is that the girl he’s talking about—the one he’s been trying to get to notice him—is you.

From the beginning, this plan wasn’t just about helping you with Carlos or boosting his public image. It was about spending more time with you, being close to you, and seeing if, maybe, just maybe, you’d start to see him as more than just your partner in this scheme. But for now, Lando keeps that secret to himself, his heart heavy with the irony of his situation.

His next message comes through, lightening the mood once again.

Lando: Yeah, maybe. Who knows? At least we’re both getting what we want out of this, right? You: Right. Partners in crime! Lando: Always ;)

You smile at his response, completely unaware of the deeper feelings hidden behind his words. To you, this is all just part of the plan. But to Lando, it’s something so much more.

Tag list: @abq654 , @spaceflowergal, @mads94sworld, @anewpersonthatexists, @qlovalova, @itsskavya, anaferreira-4, @willowsnook, @larastark3107, @blueberry648579, @luckyangelballoon, @runs-with-sciss0rs, @gtwdahhh, @edsmunsonsgirl, @under-seasoned-pasta, @marshmummy, @weekendlusting, @jaimeleannavanlloman

#f1 #f1 imagine #f1 x reader #formula 1 #lando norris #lando norris x reader #lando norris x y/n #lando imagine #carlos sainz x you #carlos sainz imagine #carlos sainz x reader #carlos sainz

82 notes · View notes

bengiyo · 2 days

Note

Hello 👋

All of your favorite horniest sex scenes?

Hello! I've been busy, so this has taken forever to get to!

I don't always need the guys to bounce around on each other and gyrate enthusiastically for it to out as horny. Oftentimes, I find myself more drawn in by the building desire between the characters, and the explicit acknowledgement of release. I like when the sex feels like it's also revealing something to us about the characters. I've highlighted many of these before, but it's fun to revisit.

Ghost Host, Ghost House Episode 4 Couch Scene

youtube

I will never get over this scene, and especially the director's cut of it. These guys knew they liked each other almost instantly, and it was so rewarding to see them reach a place where they could express that. Bonus points for discussing the logistics of gay sex.

This show has been on Gaga and YouTube for a while, but it's also now available on Viki!

La Pluie Episode 6 Floor Scene and Episode 7 Bed Scene

I liked this scene so much that I wrote about it. Again, there's a lot of anticipation between these two, and you can tell how far it's built up because Patts has to dial it back down when Saengtai wants to stop. It's especially important to me because Saengtai does blow Patts in the next episode. If you're on iQIYI, there's an extended cut of that at the end of the video lists.

Mood Indigo: The Post-Funeral Scene

These two are so horrible for each other, but damn are their sex scenes compelling. Theirs are the kinds of scenes only possible between two people you know can never work long term. I was so glad that we got back to Haruhiko in Playback, and the first thing he did was blow Rio in a car. If you haven't seen the Novelist, and you're itching for hornier BL, it's right there.

The End of the World With You "You're Soaked"

From the same team as The Novelsit, we got to experience baby's first fuckboy in this incredible show. Again, I love when we get scenes with couples who aren't ready to work, because they're allowed to have raunchier sex. They get to amp the intensity of the physicality because they need to give a reason why someone was so caught up and missed the warning signs. I actually love the car scene later as a more romantic intimacy scene, but we're focusing on horny here.

Jack o' Frost Birthday Sex

A common theme here with the Japanese offerings is that people are allowed to have more interesting sex scenes right before they split. This is true even in Jack o' Frost. We get a really great oner from the leads that precedes their breakup and Ritsu's accident. I think this might be my favorite of this list because the actors have to build the entire scene together since there aren't any cuts.

Gameboys 2 Bed Scene

Cairo and Gav are one of my favorite pandemic couples we got on screen, and I was quite relieved for them when they finally got to have this moment. We also confirmed they switch, and I love that.

Wedding Plan: Namnuea Showing Off His Stamina

No list for me would be complete without including them. I really loved seeing two gay men go at it after clearing out all of their misunderstandings. They had already had sad goodbye sex. It was thrilling to see them having enthusiastic, athletic sex. This also leads directly to one of my favorite emotional payoffs for a closeted character of all time.

Kiseki: Dear to Me Reunion

The second couple stole this show, but damn if I didn't love the way these two played out sex across multiple years between their characters. These two really suffered, and I really love the way Taro Lin and Hsu Kai captured the changes between these two as Bai Zong Yi grew and matured. This really was a solid sex scene.

Love Class 2: Sungmin and Joo Hyuk

I just really wanna thank them for reassuring me that if Korea wanted to, they could deliver.

Sleep With Me Jeans Scene

I am not a lesbian, but I share their beliefs. This scene was so good. I loved that these two, who have different kinds of disabilities, were able to have a very fun sex scene. I really like when it's clear both characters want to be there.

Only Friends: Boston and Top in the Car

Despite my eventual disdain for this show, I was impressed with Neo and Force for giving this incredibly selfish sex scene between their characters. This entire scene is about injured egos, and it's a standout scene from this show. We won't discuss the rest of the show here.

Thanks for the ask!

94 notes · View notes

marvelfanfn2187a113 · 1 day

Text

Hate You (Kidding)

Crowley & daughter!reader, Sam and Dean & witch!reader, a little Rowena & granddaughter!reader

Requested by Anonymous

Synopsis: your dad abandoned you years ago, but what happens when he finds out you’re still alive?

A/N: just so no one gets confused about this, here’s the background—Crowley found out how powerful demon/human babies can be, so he tried to make one, only it didn’t go the way he planned—the baby (you) were born without powers, and so he abandoned you. (Just because I didn’t want to give this the exact same backstory as Crowley’s son)

The theft was not going well. Your grandmother had made it seem so easy—sneak into the bunker, grab the black spell book, and make it out fast.

She failed to mention the two professional hunters that lived there.

You hadn’t been dumb enough to assume it would be empty—there had to be a reason Rowena wasn’t going herself, after all; she was scared. But you weren’t ready for Sam and Dean Winchester.

They had you in their dungeon basement—which was super creepy—before you’d even managed to find the book, much less grab it.

“What were you looking for, kid? Who sent you here?” The shorter—but no less scary—one had his hands on the sides of your chair, and he was looming over you. You had no doubt that he was willing to hurt you—you did break into his very dangerous house, after all.

You kept quiet, still unsure what the best course of action was. If you told them about the book and Rowena, would they let you go and go after her?

Then again, you didn’t know anything about these guys—maybe once they got their information, they’d just kill you.

You decided to stay quiet.

“Hey!” Dean smacked his hand on the arm of your chair, and you flinched. “I said—“

The man stopped yelling when the lights went out. They flickered back on a moment later, only this time they were red.

“Someone’s here,” the tall one said.

“I’ll go check.” The man in front of you pulled a gun from the waistband of his jeans and turned to leave, saying to the tall one “watch her.”

Then it was just you and the giant—who, surprisingly, seemed a little less scary. He was definitely intimidating, but he also had a sort of “I don’t hurt children” vibe about him.

“This will all be easier if you tell us what you were after,” he broke the silence.

“Right, because you’ll have a reason to keep me alive after I tell you everything,” you scoffed.

“We won’t have a reason to kill you, either,” Sam countered.

“And you need one?” You questioned.

“What makes you think we’d just kill you for no reason?” He asked.

“I mean I did break into your house, and you are hunters.” You shrugged as best you could with your hands cuffed behind you.

“I’m Sam,” the man said, crouching down so he was more on your level—he was trying to look less intimidating, which surprised you. “That other guy is my brother Dean. We are hunters, but we’re not gonna just kill you for no reason. We’re not like that.”

You opened your mouth to respond, but the door opening cut you off.

“Look who came for a visit.” Dean stepped into the room with a man trailing behind him. As soon as the man stepped into the light, every bit of air left your lungs.

“Didn’t know you had a visi—“ Crowley’s sentence froze halfway out of his mouth when he laid eyes on you.

Dean’s suspicious gaze picked up on the awkwardness instantly.

“You two know each other?”

Crowley gained his voice back first. “Used to. Not so much anymore.”

“Oh I don’t know about that.” You found the strength to speak after you heard Crowley’s words. “You still look just as pathetic to me, father.”

“Father?” Dean choked. “Wait, that’s not possible.”

“I thought you were dead.” Crowley was now completely ignoring the Winchesters. “After…after that incident I figured the demons would’ve—“

“Incident?!” You all but screamed. “Incident? Is that what you call you abandoning me? Leaving me for dead? An incident?”

“I had no choice,” Crowley argued. “When the other demons found out you were powerless—“

“The other demons? It wasn’t about the other demons, it was about you! You used my mother to make yourself a half demon, and when I didn’t turn out to have any powers you threw me away. You wanted your demon friends to kill me.”

“No.” Crowley was brushing past Sam and Dean now, coming to stand directly in front of you. You squirmed in your chair, but you couldn’t get further away from him. “No I didn’t. I thought if I got rid of you, they’d have no reason to kill you and—“

“Don’t lie to me!” You cried out. “I’m not stupid! You may not have wanted me dead, but you sure didn’t abandon me to try to save me. You did it because I was useless to you. Pretending otherwise is just…it’s just pathetic.”

Crowley opened his mouth to argue, but he had nothing to say—he knew you were right.

“So you’re half demon with no powers?” Dean cut in. “Because I’ve met a half demon who could do anything he wanted just by thinking it.”

“Why do you think he wanted to make me?” You forced your gaze away from your father to look at Dean. “He wanted an all powerful being that was also fully dependent on him. Too bad for him, not all half demons are the same, and he got stuck with the powerless one.”

“But that doesn’t explain why you’re here now,” Sam cut in.

You bit your lip. You should’ve known it would circle back to this.

“Look, we’re not gonna hurt you if you tell us,” Sam promised.

“Fine.” A sly smirk lifted onto your face as your eyes went back to your father. “I’m here to get a book. For my grandmother.”

Crowley was still choking on air while Sam and Dean shared a meaningful glance before turning back to you.

“Rowena? You’re working for the witch?” Dean’s reaction told you that he both knew Rowena and probably hated her.

“She’s the only reason I’m still alive,” you said. “When he—“ you were inclined your head towards Crowley “—left me behind to get killed by demons, she saved my life.”

“My mother knows you’re still alive and she never told me?” Crowley scoffed. “It’s just like her.”

“She didn’t tell you because I told her how much I hated you.” You glared at Crowley as you spoke. “She understood the feeling, and we had a mutual understanding. Anyway, she told me she would teach me to take out demons the way she can—“

“But let me guess—only if you steal a spell book from us and bring it to her,” Dean interrupted.

“She said it was the only way she’d be able to teach me,” you defended yourself.

“She lied,” Crowley butted in. “She always lies—she was using you to get that book.”

“Oh, right, because you’re so trustworthy,” you shot back. “Why should I trust you?”

“You don’t think it’s a little strange that the first thing she does with you is send you to a place where you could get hurt, just to get something for her?” Sam argued. “You don’t think that that’s using you?”

You were quiet for a moment, and when you spoke again it was more subdued.

“I didn’t have any other choice. There are still demons out there who want me dead, and I’m totally and completely helpless.”

“You don’t have to be,” Crowley said. “I can help you.”

“Rowena may not be a saint, but I already know I can’t trust you,” you snapped. “I’m not looking to get abandoned again.”

“She had to know you’d get caught.” Sam seemed to be talking more to himself than anyone else. “So why…”

The Winchesters seemed to come to a conclusion at the same time, sharing a moment of telepathic connection before they turned and ran out the door.

“Do they do that a lot?” You wondered.

“You have no idea,” Crowley huffed. “I suppose I should find out what’s wrong.”

“You haven’t figured it out yet?” The sudden smirk on your face made Crowley nervous. “Oh come on, don’t tell me you fell for that whole ‘totally and completely helpless” thing.” As you spoke, Crowley saw a faint glow coming from your hands, which were still handcuffed behind you. After a moment, he heard a snapping sound, and suddenly both of your hands were free and you were standing up. “Do you really think Rowena sent me here with no knowledge of magic?”

With a single wave of your hand, you sent Crowley flying against the wall. He landed with a thud, and you stepped over his frame on your way out the door.

“See you soon, father.”

…

Rowena had escaped with the book by the time Sam and Dean got to the library—she had waited until everyone was in the dungeon to make her move—and by the time the boys got back to the dungeon, Crowley was on the floor and you were gone.

“Great,” Dean growled. “She tricked us. I hate witches!”

“For once,” Crowley groaned as he slowly sat up. “I agree with you.”

…

“The Winchesters.” Your nervous gaze met your grandmother’s as you watched her flip through the spell book. “It’s them, they caught up. What now?”

“We need to distract them long enough for me to get through this spell,” Rowena insisted. “I won’t even need the book anymore as long as I can get this spell done.”

“I’ll distract them.” You were halfway to the door when Rowena stopped you.

“No, you’re not strong enough, not like this.” The way your grandmother was staring you down made you nervous.

“Like this?” You asked.

The door blasting open after a swift kick from Dean Winchester seemed to make up Rowena’s mind.

“I’m sorry, dear girl, but it’s the only way,” she said. “Impetus be—“

“Not so fast, mother.” You father appeared out of nowhere just behind Rowena, and he snatched up the spell book she was holding and swung it at her—she went down without another word. “I’m the only one that gets to hurt my brat.”

You didn’t say anything—you were still shaking. “Impetus beastiarum”—that’s what Rowena had been trying to say. Your own grandmother was going to turn you into a rabid monster—and ultimately kill you—just so that she could get away.

“The book.” You flinched out of your daze when Sam Winchester brushed past you and held his hand out to your father.

“Of course, moose,” he answered. “What would I need with a witches book?” He passed it over without argument.

“Why did you save me?” You demanded, sidestepping the taller Winchester to get a good look at your father, who merely shrugged.

“I’m the only one that gets to kill you.”

…

The Winchesters, of course, wanted to grab you after the little incident, but you flung them against the wall with your powers—one of the few tricks your grandmother had managed to teach you, and currently your favorite—and left before they got the chance.

You didn’t see them or your father for several more months. When you saw Crowley again, you were running for your life.

Somehow word had gotten around that a great witch had a granddaughter; or maybe it was that the king of hell had a daughter—you didn’t know, and you didn’t care. All you knew was that an archangel was after you because of it, and you had tried to cut a deal with him.

It hadn’t worked.

Lucifer had wanted you because he thought you’d be useful, and when he found out you weren’t, he of course decided that killing you was proper punishment for wasting his time.

You were in the midst of running for your life when you saw your father.

He was chained to the floor like a dog, watching your exchange with the archangel with peaked interest.

“Conteram hoc cincinno,” you yelled as you ran—it worked, and the chains at Crowley’s wrists snapped; they were warded against demons, not witches.

The freeing of his prisoner was enough of a distraction to get Lucifer off your tail. By the time he remembered you, you were out the door, and when he tried to turn his attention back to Crowley, the demon had already teleported.

…

“What was that?”

You jumped in surprise when your father appeared next to you.

“An escape,” you huffed out.

“You saved me back there.”

“Don’t get used to it,” you demanded. Crowley just grinned at you.

“Maybe witches aren’t so bad.”

Taglist:

@nyotamalfoy @mrvlxgrl @chocorade @aestheticdaisies @inlovewhithafairytale @that-wannabe-vangoghgurl @casmustdiee @987coley @deadlymistletoe @wayward-impala83 @whump-loverz

#the winchesters #dean and sam #dean winchester #supernatural dean #sam winchester #dean winchester x reader #dean winchester x you #sam winchester x reader #winchesters x reader #crowley x daughter #crowley spn #crowley

81 notes · View notes

cuecrynsleep · 3 days

Text

Reconnecting the Past

Amangela | Reunion AU!

Chapter 15: Routinely Calls

Amanda and Angela start to fall into a routine with Amanda later texting Shayne about news.

Disclaimer: This is not meant to be a representation of those in Smosh, rather a fan made perspective on the characters they portray online. Remain respectful.

← Ch. 14 | Masterlist

────────────────────

"Okay I am starting the car," Angela, all but announced the moment the call connected.

"Thank you for the play by play Angela," Amanda teased. "I really needed it."

"Well, I don't know what else to say," she uttered. Shuffling was heard over the speaker, a light beeping noise coming from Angela's car as she presumably reversed out of her driveway. "What are you up to, anyway? It's early."

"I'm doing my hair. I finished getting dressed and my makeup earlier." Amanda said, her phone set down on the sink counter as she brushed through her long hair a final time.

"What the?" Angela said. "You're already ready? Doesn't your thing start at like 9?"

"Yeah, but it's fine. Tommy and I will probably arrive early," Amanda shrugged. She gathered up her stuff, checking through her bag a final time. "I'm used to waking up early for this, so might as well."

"I think you're just insane," Angela commented. "I understand getting ready early, but you know you can just stay behind in your hotel and watch TV."

"It feels awkward to do when I have filming today," Amanda said, her phone to her ear and off speaker as she made her way to the elevator. "I like leaving stuff like that for after work."

There was a brief pause before Angela spoke. "Oh, I get that. I feel like it's easier to start doing stuff like that in your downtime once you have a better work and personal life balance."

"True," Amanda commented. "I'll be better at it once I'm back in California."

"Sometimes I forget you do still live there," Angela admitted. "Like we started talking again and then suddenly you're in Canada."

Amanda texted Tommy as another person entered the elevator, she shuffled deeper into the corner, her voice softer as she spoke. "Well I'm bound to be back there within July," she paused. "Hopefully."

"Tell your work they suck at scheduling," Angela teased.

"Trust me, they know."

"How's filming nowadays?" Angela asked.

Amanda couldn't stop herself from sighing. "It's fine all things considered." She ended up leaving it at that, waiting for Angela to either comment or change the topic.

"Jesus Christ," Angela mumbled, her voice still clearly heard despite that not being her intention. "There's way too many cars here."

"You're driving in LA, Ange. That's a given." Amanda replied, as she navigated her way through a busy hotel lobby. She initially planned on waiting in one of the chairs but based on the multiple people checking in and out, she decided to cut her losses.

There was another pause, a brief car honk heard in the background. "Are you outside already?" Angela asked. "You really want to get there early."

"Oh, quiet," Amanda rolled her eyes. "What are you up to nowadays?"

"Well, you know, filming for the second short film and the improv group. The usual," Angela said. "I am getting closer to the people in the improv group though, so I'm happy for that."

"I'm glad, it's always good to make friends or at least colleagues in stuff like that."

As minutes passed by Amanda waited for Tommy to join her out in the front. The uber already ordered for the two five minutes ago. Throughout the call Angela ended up rambling about this one improv scene she absolutely loved doing. As Amanda listened, the corners of her mouth twitched upwards into an uncontrollable smile. She sucked her lips into her teeth, simply enjoying the moment.

There was just something about listening to Angela ramble about something she loved that was comforting. Her glances at the road waiting for the Uber to arrive becoming less frequent. As she let herself be lulled into a story about an admittedly funny scene, she failed to notice the door opening and the approaching footsteps.

"Who has you smiling at your phone like that?" Amanda heard Tommy's teasing voice, a hand on her shoulder bringing her back to the present.

"Oh my god!" Amanda practically yelped, unintentionally interrupting Angela. She turned towards Tommy immediately. "I did not see you coming."

Tommy chuckled. "Yeah," he said. "I can see that."

Angela's voice is quietly heard over the phone. Amanda isn't even sure if Tommy can hear her. "Amanda? You good? Mandy?"

"So," Tommy said, he pointed to her phone. "A friend? Boyfriend? Hookup?"

"The first one," Amanda said, just about to reply to Angela.

"You'll be busy soon. I'm going to be hanging up now." Another quiet shuffle is heard. "Good luck in filming."

Angela left the call, Amanda being left by herself before she clicked off. "Well, I was going to introduce you two, but guess not." She checked the time, failing to realize how much time had passed. "Then again she does have to get to filming soon.”

#amangela #angela giarratana #amanda lehan canto #smosh rpf #chat fic #social media #texting story #shayne topp #reconnecting the past

32 notes · View notes

rootedinrevisions · 2 days

Text

Enough for You: Part 3

SUMMARY: After he showed up unexpectedly at your door trying to make amends, you and Tyler spend a cozy evening together, starting with making dinner in the kitchen as light banter fills the space. After a fun and easygoing meal, the two of you curl up on the couch to watch TV, enjoying each other's presence and sharing quiet moments. As the night winds down, you ask Tyler to stay the night, feeling comforted by his warmth and company. Tyler, happy to stay, holds you close as you both drift off into a peaceful sleep, deepening the bond that has grown between you.

WARNINGS: Fluff.

WORD COUNT: 2.5k

OTHER PARTS: PART 1 I PART 2

NOTE: There will be a PART 3! I have it mostly written and just need to finish editing it. Part 2 got away from me so I decided to break it up as to not have one crazy long fic.

TAG LIST: @omgbrianab I @shanimallina87 I @callsign-diva I @starshinegrl I @willowpains I @beltzboys2015-blog I @fanficmom94 I @smoothdogsgirl I @djs8891

Later you and Tyler had settled into the comfort of your couch as the world outside seems to fade away. The warmth of his presence next to you, the way his hand rests on your knee, and the steady rhythm of his breathing create a bubble of serenity around you. Time feels like it’s slowing down as you both get lost in the closeness and talk. The tension from the past week melts away as you slowly lean your head on his shoulder. You hadn’t planned to spend the past few hours on the couch with him, but it’s as though neither of you can bear to let go of the other.

It isn’t until the soft grumble of a stomach fills the silence that you both freeze, then exchange an amused look.

"Was that you or me?" Tyler teases with a chuckle, his hand giving your knee a playful squeeze.

You can’t help but laugh, realizing how long you’ve been so engrossed in each other that dinner slipped both your minds. “I guess we kind of forgot to eat,” you say, grinning up at him.

"Guess it's time to get out of this cocoon and figure out dinner, huh?" Tyler jokes, but neither of you seem quite ready to move.

Tyler glances around your apartment and then nods toward the kitchen. “How about we cook something here? I’m no chef, but I think I can handle pasta this time.”

You raise an eyebrow, the memory of his past cooking adventures making you smirk. “Are you sure you’re up for the challenge? Last time you tried to make pasta, we almost had to call the fire department”

He laughs, shaking his head. You bite back a smile, feeling a sense of ease wash over you as you both drift toward the kitchen, the earlier tension between you replaced with a playful energy. It feels natural—like slipping back into a rhythm you didn’t realize you missed. Together, you start pulling out ingredients, ready to tackle dinner as a team, side by side.

“You’re actually going to follow the recipe this time, right?” you tease, referencing that one infamous night with the team when his attempt at cooking had been… less than successful.

He rolls his eyes dramatically but grins, a mock-serious tone in his voice. “I promise, no improvising tonight. We’re sticking to the directions like my life depends on it.”

You laugh, stepping up beside him as he starts boiling the water. Together, you work on the sauce—chopping garlic, stirring in tomatoes, and adding the perfect amount of seasoning. The kitchen fills with the rich, savory aroma, and the easy banter between you feels as natural as breathing. You catch him stealing glances at you now and then, the soft kind of looks that make your heart skip a beat.

At one point, you’re standing close, both concentrating on the sauce. Tyler hands you a spoon and nods toward the pan. “Go on, taste test. Let’s see if we nailed it.”

You take a bite, humming in approval, but before you can respond, Tyler’s gaze sharpens. His lips twitch into a grin.

“You’ve got a little… right there,” he says, gesturing to your lower lip where some of the sauce must have landed.

Before you can wipe it away, Tyler steps closer, his eyes fixed on yours as his hand reaches up. His thumb brushes gently against your lip, lingering for just a second too long. There’s a charged silence, the air between you suddenly thick with tension.

Then, in one smooth motion, Tyler’s lips hover over yours. Instead of wiping the sauce away, he closes the distance and gently kisses it off, his lips brushing yours in a brief, heated moment. His mouth lingers for a beat, as if considering whether to deepen the kiss, but he pulls back just enough to meet your eyes.

You feel your heart race as his thumb traces a light line across your lip, and you both let out soft laughs to ease the tension, though neither of you moves far away from each other.

“Well, I’d say that’s pretty good,” Tyler says, his voice low, and the double meaning doesn’t escape you.

After a second, you step back, breaking the tension with a smile. “Let’s see if the rest of the meal lives up to that standard.”

You sit down together at your small dining table, a cozy space that feels perfect for the two of you. The pasta is simple, but delicious, and you both dig in, the conversation flowing effortlessly.

Tyler leans back, twirling his fork in the pasta. “So, be honest… was the sauce better than last time?” he asks with a grin, clearly referring to his past kitchen disasters.

You smirk and tilt your head. “It was way better. This time, I didn’t feel like I was risking my life.”

He laughs, shaking his head. “I’m never living that down, am I?”

“Nope,” you say with a grin, taking another bite. The warmth between you isn’t just from the food—it’s from the way you feel sitting across from him, sharing something simple, yet meaningful.

The conversation meanders from lighthearted memories of the team to more personal things. Tyler shares a little about his week, and you talk about yours. Every now and then, he’ll throw in a joke that makes you laugh, and each time, his smile grows wider, like your laughter is exactly what he needed to hear.

At some point, the meal slows down, and the pauses between words become longer. But the silences aren’t awkward—they’re comfortable, filled with the sound of utensils against plates and the occasional soft smile exchanged between you both.

Tyler leans back in his chair, watching you for a moment before speaking.

“This feels good,” he says quietly, almost to himself. His eyes linger on yours, and you know he’s talking about more than just the dinner.

You nod, your heart swelling with a quiet happiness. “Yeah,” you agree softly. “It does.”

With dinner finished and the dishes stacked in the sink, the atmosphere between you and Tyler has settled into something soft and warm, like an easy current pulling you both along. The quiet hum of the street outside your apartment window is a gentle backdrop as you both make your way to the couch, the leftovers tucked away and the weight of the evening hanging in the air like a comfortable blanket.

You grab a couple of throw pillows and settle into your usual corner of the couch, feeling the softness beneath you as Tyler sits next to you, his arm casually resting along the back. His presence feels different tonight—not distant, not guarded—just close. Like the space between you both has finally disappeared, leaving only a warmth that feels entirely new but somehow familiar.

“You know,” Tyler says, leaning back, “this is probably the most relaxed I’ve felt in a while.” He tilts his head toward you, a small smile tugging at his lips. “Though that might be the carbs talking.”

You laugh, the sound light and effortless. “I guess a successful meal can do that.”

His eyes twinkle. “I told you I’d follow the recipe this time.”

There’s a pause, the kind where neither of you feels the need to fill it. The quiet hum of your living room lamp and the distant sounds of life beyond your apartment windows make the world feel small, like it's just the two of you in this cozy bubble. You pull your legs up underneath you, feeling the comfort of the moment settle in.

Tyler glances over at the TV remote sitting on the coffee table. “Movie?” he suggests, though there’s an undertone in his voice that says he’s just as content to keep talking, to keep soaking in this rare and quiet space you’ve found together.

“Yeah,” you nod, reaching for the remote. “Something light.”

As you scroll through your options, you feel Tyler shift closer to you, his knee gently brushing against yours. It’s subtle but enough to send a pleasant warmth coursing through you. You glance over and catch him looking at you, his expression soft, almost thoughtful, as though he’s savoring every second of this moment.

“You pick,” he says softly. “I’ll watch whatever you want.”

You smirk and raise an eyebrow. “Even if it’s a rom-com?”

He chuckles, leaning back. “Even if it’s a rom-com. I’m trying to earn brownie points here.”

You laugh, and before long, you settle on a movie—a lighthearted one neither of you has seen before. But as it begins to play, you find that you’re more aware of Tyler’s presence next to you than anything happening on the screen.

His arm eventually slides down from the back of the couch, wrapping around your shoulders, pulling you gently into his side. The contact is natural, easy, like he’s done it a thousand times before. And maybe, in some alternate version of your life, he has.

For a while, neither of you speaks. You just sit there, wrapped in each other’s warmth, the glow of the TV casting soft shadows around the room. At some point, your head naturally leans into his shoulder, and his fingers trace light, absentminded circles on your arm. You feel his steady breathing, his heart beating in rhythm with yours.

Tyler’s voice breaks the quiet after a while, soft and almost hesitant. You tilt your head slightly to look up at him. “I’m really glad I came tonight.”

His words are simple, but the weight of them lingers. You feel a swell of warmth in your chest, and you nod, a smile spreading across your face.

“Me too.”

He holds your gaze for a moment longer before pressing a gentle kiss to the top of your head. It’s tender, full of unspoken promises that neither of you are rushing to put into words just yet.

The movie drones on in the background, but for the rest of the night, the only thing that matters is the quiet, cozy space the two of you have built together—one that feels like it’s always been waiting for this moment.

As the credits roll on the movie, the soft hum of the television is the only sound in the room. You glance over at Tyler, who’s been quiet for the last few minutes, his arm still wrapped comfortably around you. The warmth of his body feels like an anchor, keeping you grounded in this perfect, simple moment.

Tyler shifts slightly, and with a gentle touch, he reaches up and brushes a strand of hair behind your ear. His fingers linger there for a moment longer than necessary, his eyes searching yours. “You okay?” he asks softly, his voice barely above a whisper, as if he’s afraid to disturb the peace you’ve found together.

You smile, a soft, genuine smile, and nod. “Yeah,” you whisper back, the word carrying more meaning than its simplicity suggests. Everything feels right in this moment—more right than anything has in a long time.

Tyler’s eyes flicker with something deeper as he leans in, brushing his lips gently against yours. The kiss is slow, tender, as if he’s savoring it, committing every second to memory. When he pulls back, his forehead rests against yours, and he asks again, quieter this time, “You sure?”

You look up into his eyes, feeling a rush of emotion well up inside you. You could pretend to be calm, but the truth is, this moment feels like a turning point, like everything you’ve been waiting for is finally within reach. “I don’t want you to leave,” you confess, your voice soft but filled with vulnerability. The words hang in the air, delicate and full of meaning.

Tyler pauses for a beat, his thumb brushing gently along your cheek. His gaze holds yours, as though he’s searching for any hint of uncertainty. “I can stay,” he says, his voice low and careful, “if you want me to.”

You feel your chest tighten at the tenderness in his words, and you nod, your heart racing. “I want you to stay,” you murmur, the vulnerability in your voice now mirrored by the warmth in his eyes.

You smile, and without saying anything more, you take his hand, leading him down the short hallway to your bedroom. Once inside, the atmosphere shifts slightly—more intimate, more real. You reach for a pair of soft pajamas while Tyler tugs off his shirt, the sound of fabric falling to the floor barely registering as you change. When you turn around, you find him standing there, stripped down to his boxers, watching you with that same look in his eyes—like he’s seeing you for the first time.

You both climb into bed, the sheets cool and inviting. Tyler lies back, his arm automatically reaching out for you, an open invitation. Without hesitation, you curl up into his side, your head resting on his chest as his arm wraps around you, holding you close. His heartbeat is steady beneath your ear, a calming rhythm that makes you feel completely safe.

For a few moments, the two of you just lie there, the silence between you filled with the kind of comfort that doesn’t need words. But eventually, Tyler’s fingers start tracing lazy patterns on your back, and his voice breaks the quiet.

“This feels good,” he says softly, his breath warm against the top of your head.

You nod, your eyes half-closed, the weight of the day finally catching up with you. “It does,” you agree, your voice thick with sleep.

There’s a brief pause before Tyler speaks again, quieter this time. “I’ve missed you.” His fingers continue their gentle path along your back, his voice carrying the weight of everything unspoken between you.

You tilt your head slightly, just enough to look up at him. His expression is soft, and in the dim light of the room, you can see the tenderness in his eyes. “I’ve missed you too,” you admit, the words coming out in a sleepy murmur as you feel yourself beginning to drift off.

Tyler’s hand stills on your back, and you feel him press a gentle kiss to the top of your head, the warmth of his lips lingering against your skin. “Get some sleep,” he whispers, his voice barely audible now. “I’ll be right here.”

And with that, you let the last of your worries fade away. You’re safe, comfortable, wrapped up in Tyler’s arms. The world outside can wait—right now, all that matters is this moment, the steady rise and fall of his chest beneath you, and the warmth of his body next to yours.

Tyler stays awake for a few minutes longer, watching as your breathing evens out and your body relaxes against his. A small smile tugs at his lips as he presses another kiss to your forehead, his heart full. “Sweet dreams, beautiful,” he whispers, though he knows you’ve already fallen asleep. He closes his eyes then, pulling you even closer as he finally allows himself to drift off too, knowing that when morning comes, you’ll still be right there, next to him.

#Tyler Owens #Tyler Owens Fic #Tyler Owens Fanfic #Tyler Owens Fanfiction #Tyler Owens Angst

42 notes · View notes

wizardinggirl · 2 days

Text

The Snake & The Raven

Summary: It’s been 2 years since Severus confessed his sin to you, his deepest, darkest secret. After the initial shock and betrayal, you have forgiven him and now the two of you have gotten together. (With much approval from the headmaster. You were beginning to think this was his plan all along.)

Warnings: none

Parts: Prologue (1/2) || Prologue (2/2) || Part 1 || Part 2 || Part 3 || Part 4 (I will link the rest as they’re posted)

Part 4: Tea Time

Word Count: 2.8k

2 years later…

Severus had changed. It took him a long time to heal, and it took him far longer to forgive himself than it took you. You don’t think he will ever fully forgive himself. He felt responsible for Lily’s death and that her son was now an orphan in an awful muggle home. He would have been taken into the care of Sirius Black, but you didn’t want to think about him and what he’d done.

You had decided to stay on as a teacher at Hogwarts after the first few months when the Ministry asked when you would be returning. Of course you loved your job as an Auror and it had been hard work to get there, but being here to mold these witches’ and wizards’ minds was far more rewarding. Additionally, it was a preventative measure. If you were able to be a good influence to some potential future Dark Wizards/Death Eaters, then it was worth it.

“Marrow, fix your stance or Edward’s is going to knock you off your feet. We’ve talked about this.” You twirled your wand in your hand as you watched two of your students duel, ready to intervene if needed. You’d seen a lot in your two years at Hogwarts, and learned the hard way that when the young upstarts dueled that you needed to be ready for anything. The other students cheered and you turned the other cheek at the few that had bets going. It was a hard class, more work than leisure, so you let them have fun in it when they could. You wanted them to still enjoy the class, after all.

“Whoa!” Marrow went flying off the dueling table.

“Arresto Momentum!” You cast on your student, it slowed her down enough to where she was placed on the ground rather than slamming into it.

“Thank you, Professor.” The class laughed and others cheered as Edwards strutted around the table, his fists pumping in the air with victory.

“Alright, Edwards. Off the table, one point to Gryffindor.” There was more cheering from the members of the respective house and you smiled. You decided that whenever they would duel, to add even more stakes, the winner would gain one point for their house. It wasn’t much, but it was enough to give them a competitive edge. You made your way up the steps to your desk and faced the class.

“I’m sure we all saw what Marrow could have done differently.” There were giggles as the students took their seats. “Your stance is very important, not just in dueling. It can even affect other spells as well.” The bell rang as you finished your sentence. “Good job today, class. I will see all of your Monday.” The sounds of shuffling, books being put away and chairs scraping on the floor as the students left and some waved goodbye. As the last student left, a familiar shadowy figure strode through the door. “Hello, love.” You smiled as he approached.

“Good afternoon, Professor.” You raised a brow with a playful smirk when he was finally in front of you, raising lightly on your toes to peck his cheek.

“We’re far past ‘Professor’ when we’re alone, Severus.” A pink hue dusted his cheeks as he cleared his throat, keeping a neutral expression as he looked around the room to make sure there were no more students present.

“We are still on school grounds, y/n.”

“We’ve been on school grounds whe-” he shot you a look and you laughed. “Alright alright.” You tidied up your desk, pushed your chair in then went back to his side, leading him out of the classroom. “Let’s be off then, Professor.” You said the last part with a more suggestive tone as you nudged his arm with your own. He grumbled at you. As the two of you continued down the hall, Snape seemed more rigid and quiet than usual, and that’s his natural state. “Are you alright, Sev?” You asked sincerely, placing your arm on his as you walked. He looked down at you and gave the smallest twitch of a smile.

“I’m fine.” Then he turned his attention forward again. It wasn’t odd for him to deflect when you questioned him about his feelings, but something felt different about this time.

The two of you sat together at the professors’ table and quietly chatted like normal, but you could tell there was something off. You placed your hand on his thigh and he stiffened then relaxed. That was odd… you leaned over and sniffed. He leaned away, his head snapping to you with a shocked expression on his face.

“What are you doing?” You actually couldn’t help but laugh at the sight. You leaned back in your chair, your hand still resting on his thigh.

“I’m just making sure I didn’t smell any knotgrass or fluxweed on you.” You shrugged and took a sip of water from the cup in front of you.

“Why would I-” he paused, returning to his normal position then leaning slightly towards you. “Were you smelling for Polyjuice?” Your eyes looked at him then back to your drink and you shrugged letting out a ‘hmph’, setting your glass back down.

“Just making sure it was you.” He let out a sigh then took the hand that was on his thigh and placed it on your own, leaving his hand on top of it as you took a bite from your plate. He leaned in to whisper so only you could hear.

“I’ll prove to you it’s me tonight.” You nearly choked. Severus rubbed your back and patted it lightly as you coughed. You narrowed your eyes at him, but he was just giving you a concerned look. He had no idea what he just implied.

Later that night you and Severus were walking around Hogsmeade, enjoying the cool night air before your u had to be at the tea house. You’d chosen to wear a flowy dress with short puffed sleeves. It had a blue floral design on the body and pure white on the skirt and sleeves. Along with a simple silver chain that had a small sapphire set in the middle. Something Severus had gotten you, knowing your affinity for your house colors, as a thank you for being there for him. The two of you had been together officially for over a year now. You had told him you wanted the two of you to do something special together, nothing big, just special. But, both of you were so busy you hadn’t had the time until now. He had come to your quarters a few days prior with a look in his eyes that you couldn’t quite place.

**flashback**

“Y/n?” His hand still on the doorknob and not leaving the threshold.

“Yes, Sev?” You make your way down the two steps from where your bedroom was and wrap your robe around yourself tighter. You had already changed into your nightgown and it was quite sheer. “You can come in.” His eyes scanned you from head to toe then he cleared his throat and looked the other way.

“I won’t be long.” He looks back to your eyes, you were directly in front of him now, him looking down at you. “I merely had a question to ask you.” you smiled and placed both hands on his abdomen, letting your robe open slightly.

“Well, you are always welcome to stay.” He gives you a closed lip smile and brings one of his hands to yours and squeezes it gently.

“I have some matters that need attending to. Someone’s been stealing from my inventory.”

“And you wanted my help?” You ask, smirking up at him. He deadpanned.

“No, I can handle it quite efficiently on my own thank you.” You let out a laugh.

“Then what is it you needed to ask me?” He was trying to keep his eyes from looking at your nightdress, a slight blush ghosting his cheeks.

“Are you available this weekend?” He moves his hand to tuck a stray hair behind your ear.

“I am, did you have something in mind?” You ask, straightening the front of his robe.

“We’ve been busy and haven’t been able to celebrate like you had wanted. I may not understand it, but if it means something to you it does to me. I’ve made reservations on Friday at Madam Puddifoot’s Tea House for us.” To say you were surprised was an understatement. Sure, he was romantic, but it was more in small gestures. A potion for a hangover or a snack if you looked peckish. There were those few times where he did pick you a flower, but that was pretty rare. He’d done nothing quite like this. You couldn’t help but tear up. His eyes widened and he cupped your face with his hands. “I’m sorry, I didn't mean to overstep. I just thought-” you shake your head and smile at him, wrapping your arms around his neck, his instinctively going to hold your waist.

“They’re happy tears, Severus. This is so sweet of you.” He blushes and looks away, affection and closeness was still something new to him. Something he was slowly warming up to. “It’ll be fun, I can’t wait.” His mouth turned into a closed lip smile as he looked back to meet your eyes. You lean up to press a soft kiss to his lips. “Are you sure you don’t want to stay?” You ask, raising a brow. He brings his hand up to cup your jaw and ran his thumb over your cheek.

“I want to, dear, but I should get to the bottom of this before the week’s end.”

“Alright then.” You press one more kiss to his lips before he pulls away.

“Goodnight.”

“Goodnight, love.” He went to turn away, but stopped and faced you again, studying your face then leaned forward and kissed your forehead. You smiled up at him then his retreating form and closed the door.

**end of flashback**

The two of you walked into the tea house, a little bell ringing as Severus held the door open for you. Madam Puddifoot looks up from her current table and smiles, excuses herself from them then wipes her hands on her apron.

“Hello, hello, welcome. Come in, come in!” She ushers the two of you inside. “Mr. Snape, it’s good to see you again. I have the private tea room ready for you and your lovely lady.” You couldn’t help but smile at that. As she started leading the two of you up the narrow steps up to the second floor you looked up at Severus.

“Private room?” You asked, wiggling your eyebrows.

“You said you wanted something special.”

“I did.” You smile, he must have put a lot of effort into this. You followed Madam Puddifoot up the stairs. Severus put his hand on your lower back to make sure you didn’t fall backwards. You couldn’t help the way it made you tingle. Not only were the stairs narrow, they were fairly steep too. He wasn’t about to have the night ruined because of a nasty fall. After walking down a short hallway at the top of the stairs the Madam opened the double doors at the end of the hall.

“Here we are.” She steps aside to let the two of you in. “I’ll be back in a moment with a fresh pot of tea.” Severus guides you into the room and to your chair, pulling it out for you.

“Thank you.” You lean up to kiss his cheek then take a seat and he pushes your chair in for you. “Such a gentleman tonight.” You tease and he lets out a grunt in response as he takes his seat across from you. You laugh and take the napkin from the table and place it on your lap. “Truly, though.” You reach your hand across the table and place it on his. “This is lovely, Sev. Thank you.” He takes your hand and places a gentle kiss on your knuckles.

“You deserve the best.” He practically whispered. You smile brightly at him. He’s really laying on the charm tonight. The two of you sat there for a moment, enjoying each other's company while he watched as he ran his thumb over your knuckles, deep in thought. He let go of your hand and sat up straight when Madam Puddifoot came back into the room.

“Here we are.” You moved your arm out of the way as she filled both of your tea cups. When you looked back to Severus he was staring into his tea with that same look in his eyes that he had when he came to your room a few days ago. Almost as if he was unsure about something. “Please help yourselves to any of the sandwiches and pastries on the table there.” She motions to the long table on the wall to your right with a large assortment of goodies. “They were freshly made for you. If you need anything else, just ring the bell.” She exited the room and closed the doors gently behind her. Once she was gone you took a sip of your tea and hummed contently, closing your eyes.

“This is lovely.” When you opened your eyes, Severus was staring at you. “What?” You ask with a smirk on your face.

“I’m admiring.” He stated simply, then broke eye contact and took a sip of his own tea. You smiled to yourself and the two of you sat in a comfortable silence for a while. The two of you simply enjoyed each other's company. Eventually, you had gotten up and grabbed a plate of pastries for you and Severus. The two of you ate and chatted and about some of your students and about current events. When the two of you had your fill, you left, thanking Madam Puddifoot on the way out.

“Shall we head back?” You ask, arms lacing through his, leaning your head on his shoulder. He placed his free hand on yours.

“I have one more thing I would like to do.”

“Oh?” You ask, lifting your head to look up at him. “Lead the way.”

Severus led you to a concrete balcony that overlooked the highlands. It was dark now, the street lamps dimly glowing around you. The moon was full and the stars were twinkling, it was a gorgeous night. You let out a sigh and turn to face him to hug him around his middle.

“Thank you for such a wonderful date, Sev. It was perfect.” He looks down at you, bringing one arm to rest on your shoulder and the other to your cheek, you leaned into his touch. “I really do love you.” He stiffens at first then kisses the top of your head.

“I love you too.” He whispered into your hair. “I know I’m not worthy of it,” he lifts his head to look back into your eyes. “Or you.” You give him a sad smile then take his hands to hold them in between the two of you.

“Don’t say that, Severus. You’re more worthy than any man could ever be.” His eyes started to tear up at that. He searched your face for any sign of dishonesty, that maybe this was some long running joke that James and Sirius were pulling on him. There was no way someone so kind and loving was real. Not to him. He slowly sank in front of you to one knee, keeping your hands in his. “Severus?”

“I'm not the man that you deserve, y/n.” He turned his gaze to look at your hands in his and ran his thumbs over the back of them. “I’m stubborn, selfish, damaged, but you see the good in me, even when I cannot see it myself.” Your eyes began to water. Was this really happening? “Y/n.” He let go of your right hand and reached into the inside pocket of his robe to pull out a small velvet box. He looked at it for a moment before opening it and presenting it to you. When his eyes met yours again, he was the most sincere you had ever seen him. “I love you. I thought no one could ever love me, that it was simply my lot in life. But you showed me otherwise and pulled me from my darkness. You are my light. Will you marry me?”

Thanks for reading! If you’d like to be added to the tag list for the next chapter please let me know!

Tags: @lizard-zombie @liviacarol88-blog @johnmurphys-sass

#harry potter #hogwarts school of witchcraft and wizardry #slytherin #fanfiction #severus snape #hogwarts fanfiction #ravenclaw #severus snape x reader #severus x reader

29 notes · View notes

moonspirit · 2 days

Note

I love all the ideas of Armin planning a well thought out proposal and all but what if it was more implosive?

After a day of work, they just got in with some crappy takeout (and a box of donuts) for dinner, before sitting on the couch and starting to eat. Annie being Annie decides she can’t be arsed to eat dinner and just goes straight in for the donut as Armin watches her lovingly then…

“Marry me”

Annie being in shock chokes a little, “what?!?”

“Marry me”…”I mean like only if u want to I don’t want to for..”

“Yes”

Then later on in bed, they are cuddling together, talking about what they just said

Armin: “I’ll buy your a ring soon, we can go get one tomorrow take the morning or afternoon off”

Annie: “why don’t we just take the whole day off? Go to the court house and get married, just you and me. No need to have anyone else there just us”

“Yeah let’s do that”

They then get shouted at by everyone else cause in less than 48h they got engaged and married without telling them (mikasa, Pieck are really pissed but Connie is the most)

Ohhhhhhhhh anon! You know what's the best part of this?

It's Armin being more spontaneous!

You know, I think he could really benefit from being more "spur of the moment" every now and then, and being with Annie, it rubs off on him a little! He spends so much time hung up on planning and obsessing over perfectionism that him finally letting go and being more spontaneous is a sign he's adjusting and healthily so! T//////T

And you know, when Armin's watching Annie stuff her cheeks with sweets, it suddenly doesn't matter - that seaside proposal doesn't fucking matter. She's right here, being comfortable and adorable and so, so warm against his skin, why does it matter where he proposes?

He has to ask. Right now. Because all that matters is this happiness and moment.

What this shows is just HOW little the grandeur matters when they're both so happy and comfortable with each other - the essence is the love still tender and warm inside their hearts and ready to be that way for the rest of their lives.

He has a ring. He slips it on her finger when they're in bed, and that's that. They laugh about how quickly they've become engaged. He kisses her fingers, one by one, just lingering a bit longer on the one with the ring.

The next day... well. Mikasa's upset, Hitch is angry, Jean is pissed, Pieck's sad for changing reasons, Reiner's emotional, but Connie... CONNIE'S MAD! Because how DARE they not let him be the third wheel to their wedding! HE HAD A BUNCH OF BEST-MAN JOKES READY FOR THE BIG DAY!

#I feel you connie #I feel you :<#askies #aruani #headcanon #attack on titan #armin arlert #shingeki no kyojin #annie leonhart #snk #aot #aruannie #armin x annie

25 notes · View notes

luckyroll3 · 2 days

Text

Chef's Kiss: Part 1

Masterlist and Summary

Story inspired by this TikTok.

The Job

Your phone buzzes, a jarring vibration against the calm of your sunlit office. You glance at the caller ID—Marcus Williams. One of your richest, but most demanding clients. You straighten in your chair, already tensing at his potential request.

"Good morning, Marcus," you answer with a practiced calm.

"Morning," he replies curtly. "I need you to organize a dinner event. It's crucial. Sixty high-profile guests. Can I count on you?"

His voice is all clipped edges and impatience. You open your notebook app on your ipad, scribbling details as he rattles them off—a date less than a month out, a list of VIPs, his expectations clear and, as usual, excessive.

"Is that all? I thought you’d want me to host your next event on the moon this time,” you say cheekily, hoping to soften him a bit.

“Ha! Maybe for the next one,” he says with a chuckle. “Your sense of humor is only one of the reasons I rehire you. But it’s mostly your ability to pull off miracles. Can you take care of this one for me?”

“Absolutely. I'm on it," you assure him. He hangs up without a goodbye; the typical Marcus efficiency that you have learned to accept. “Bye to you too,” you say to the dead line.

You exhale, then hit the speed dial for Natalie. She answers on the second ring, her voice bright and expectant.

"Nat, we've got a big one," you say, leaning back into the comforting embrace of your leather chair.

"Spill it," she urges, eagerness threading through her words.

"Marcus just tasked us with a high-stakes dinner event." You feel the weight of responsibility settle on your shoulders.

"Oof, when's the event?" Natalie's question is a soft tap on the drum of your anxiety.

"In about a month," you reply, eyeing the calendar. The days look too few, the timeframe mocking you.

"Yikes. But hey, we've got this," she says, confidence buoying her tone.

"Right." You smile despite yourself. "You know how Marcus is. We'll need to be meticulous. No room for error."

"Story of our lives," she chuckles. "I'll start prepping a timeline. We can tackle it first thing tomorrow."

"Thanks, Nat," you say, grateful for her unfailing support. "You're a lifesaver."

"Anytime," she replies, and you can almost hear her grin.

"Okay, let's circle back in an hour and set our game plan," you suggest.

"Will do, boss lady," Natalie sings out before hanging up.

You drop your phone on the desk and stare at the notes on the tablet. You take a deep breath, readying your nerves to turn chaos into a masterpiece once again.

You fire off an email to Daniella at Saffron & Thyme, fingers flying over the keys. Your mind thinks back to her restaurant's capabilities, the way they've never let you down. The cursor blinks back at you as you hit send.

"Done," you murmur, leaning back. "Dani should be getting back to us soon."

"Great! Their wild mushroom risotto is to die for," Natalie chimes in from across the desk, her eyes sparkling with anticipation. "Think it'll make the cut for the menu?"

"Let's hope." you grin, imagining the savory flavors, the impeccable plating.

The ping of your inbox pulls you back. A swift reply from Dani; she's always on the ball. You schedule a call with her for later in the day.

"Phone meeting's set," you announce, catching Natalie's gaze.

"Sweet," she replies, popping a bubblegum bubble. "We're on track."

Hours slip by, a blur of preparation and checklists, until the appointed time arrives. You press the speaker button, and Natalie leans in, pen poised.

"Hey, Dani," you greet as her voice fills the room, all business and warmth.

"Good to hear from you two," Daniella responds, her tone laced with a smile. "Let's talk about this dinner event of yours."

Natalie and you exchange a glance – it's go-time. You dive into the details, outlining Marcus' vision, the high-profile guest list, the atmosphere he’s aiming for.

"Got it," Dani interrupts, brisk yet excited. "I'm thinking something seasonal, maybe add a twist of elegance to each dish?"

"Exactly," you affirm, relief flooding through you. Dani gets it, like always.

"Count us in," she declares. "I'll clear the date. Chef Jax will be thrilled to brainstorm some ideas with you."

"Perfect," you say, and your pulse steadies. One major task checked off the list.

"Can't wait to work with you again, ladies," Dani adds, and you can almost see her managerial nod through the phone.

"Likewise," Natalie pipes up. "This one's going to be epic."

"Definitely." you echo, and after a few more confirmations and well-wishes, you end the call.

You flip open your laptop. Natalie perches on the edge of the glass desk, her fingers drumming a staccato rhythm.

"Timeline," you say, your voice slicing through the silence. "We need precision."

"Got it." She leans in, her curls bouncing with each nod. "Let's break it down, hour by hour."

You dive into the heart of logistics, crafting a timeline that reads like a symphony score—every note, every beat mapped out to the second. Your fingers dance over the keyboard as we assign tasks and set deadlines, our words weaving together until a coherent plan emerges from the chaos.

"Florist," you mutter, scanning the list. "Linens, A/V setup..."

"Who do you want for florals? The usual?" Natalie asks, chewing on her pen.

"Rosa's Garden. They've never let us down."

"True. Their orchids are art." Her eyes glint with approval.

You pick up the phone, dialing the familiar number. Rosa answers with her husky, laughter-lined voice, and you pitch our vision—a cascade of white blooms, elegance in every petal.

"Darling, for you, anything," Rosa purrs after a brief haggle over price. "I'll make sure it’s all there, fresh and fragrant."

Relief washes over you. "This is shaping up."

"Like we'd let it do anything else." Natalie grins.

You both sit back, your gazes meeting in quiet triumph. The foundation is laid, the groundwork solid. It's a waiting game now, the calm before the storm of execution.

You move on, the guest list sprawling before you like a challenge. Names, titles, companies – they blur together, a sea of significance.

"Adams needs to be near the bar," you say, remembering his penchant for networking with a drink in hand.

"Far from Johnson though." Natalie taps her lip. "Their last merger talk didn't go well."

"Right." you circle their names, drawing a line between them. It feels like defusing a bomb, a delicate operation where one wrong move could spell disaster.

"Helena will want a view of the stage." you envisage Helena's keen eyes, missing nothing.” Natalie nods, scribbling away. "And check dietary restrictions again," you remind her. "Last thing we need is an allergic reaction."

"Already on it." She grins, confidence a bright spark in her gaze.

"Good." Your shoulders ease a fraction. The details matter. They always do.

"Think he'll be happy?" she asks, a lilt of mischief in her voice.

"Marcus? He doesn't do happy," you smirk. "But satisfied? Maybe."

"Then we're golden." Natalie winks.

You see an email come through from Dani. She’s arranged a date and time for you and Chef Jax to meet and you add it to the calendar.

"We’re the best damn event planners in the city. We’re always golden." Your confidence surges as you send the confirmation reply. You shut down the computers, the screens' glow fading into darkness. “Let’s call it a night.”

The Meeting

The crisp air of the early evening bites at your skin as you approach Saffron & Thyme, the five-star restaurant nestled in the heart of the city. Leaves rustle underfoot, a whispering prelude to the bustle inside. You're here to discuss Marcus’ event.

A sudden rush of wind signals an intrusion into your thoughts. A man on a bike, all athletic build and tousled hair under a baseball cap, clips your shoulder as he whizzes by. "Sorry, mate!" he calls out, his voice tinged with an Australian accent that curls around the words like smoke. He swings back around and heads towards you.

“You okay?” His warm brown eyes meet yours, before performing a silent appraisal of your body. “I underestimated the distance between us. But you’re good, yeah?”

“I’m good,” you respond. “Don’t worry about it.”

“Okay!” He grins broadly, two dimples appearing. It’s one of the most gorgeous smiles you’ve ever seen. “Sorry again.” He winks, then starts pedaling and disappears down the alley. Your heart skips a beat, but you brush it off. Time is ticking.

Inside, the familiar scent of herbs and freshly baked bread welcomes you. It's comforting. You smooth down your blouse and ask the hostess for Dani and Chef Jax.

Dani emerges a few seconds later, her face both apologetic and reassuring. “Hey!” She greets you with a quick kiss on both cheeks. “So good to see you.”

“Nice to see you again Dani. Thanks so much for taking on this event with such short notice.”

“Of course. So I have some bad news. Chef Jax left a week ago to become the private chef for a big celebrity.” Her tone suggests this is more gossip than disaster. She sees concern cross your face and quickly adds, "But don't worry, we've got someone even better."

That's when he steps into view. You blink quickly as Dani ushers forward the new chef. It’s the biker from the sidewalk. His entrance is nothing short of magnetic; the kitchen's heat seems to have followed him out, adding a shimmer to his tanned skin. Chris' smile, complete with its playful dimples, radiates confidence. He strides towards you, the embodiment of every culinary fantasy you didn't know you had. You wonder if you’re developing a chef kink. You feel warmth flooding your cheeks.

"Chris has taken over the kitchen," Dani says, proudly introducing the man whose hands, strong and skilled, once deftly navigated a bike handle, now destined to craft your event's menu.

Chris steps forwards, a grin tugging at his full pink lips. "Sorry again for bumping into you. Nice to properly meet you," he says, his grin spreading wider and his rich brown eyes crinkling at the corners. “Seems I’ve made quite the first impression, huh?”

You swallow, forcing a smile. “It was quite the entrance. Would have been more impressive if you were doing some tricks,” you quip, aiming for light-heartedness. “But water under the bridge.”

Chris chuckles as he extends a hand, his large palm enveloping yours in a firm handshake. His skin is warm, the touch sending an unexpected jolt of electricity sparking up your arm. You stare at your joined hands, acutely aware of his lingering gaze.

“Christopher Bahng, but everyone calls me Chris.” You introduce yourself. “An absolute pleasure.” Chris lifts your hand, brushing his lips over your knuckles.

A shiver dances down your spine at the sensation. You're drawn to him, undeniably so. But this is work. You nod, your mind stamping down the attraction, forcing professionalism to the forefront. You clear your throat, slipping free of his grasp, but the tingling remains. “Shall we discuss the event?” you ask, looking between Chris and Dani.

Chris chuckles again, the sound warm and throaty. "Straight to business. I like that."

The three of you sit at an empty table near the back, Dani taking her place at the head while you and Chris flank her sides, sitting across from each other. Every inch of air between the two of you is charged with unspoken tension.

"So, let's talk about the dinner," you start, opening your folder. Your voice is steady, all business now. "We're looking for something that makes a statement."

"Ah, I love a good challenge." Chris leans in, his forearms on the table, and you're acutely aware of the muscles beneath his rolled-up sleeves. The scent of spice and citrus wafts off him towards you, clean and intoxicating. "Tell me more. What do you have in mind?" His gaze on you is intense.

You glance away, heart pounding. Get a grip, you chastise yourself. You smooth a stray curl behind your ear, summoning your most confident tone.

"An upscale six-course tasting menu to impress our guests." You outline the specifics, including the ambiance you're aiming for. Chris nods along, his eyes never leaving yours, as if every word you say is vital. It's flattering and a little unnerving. You find yourself leaning in too, drawn into his orbit.

"Ambitious. I like it. Sounds like we've got some exciting work ahead of us," he says once you finish, his dimpled smile returning full force. You can't help but return it, despite the warning bells in your mind.

You clear your throat again. “Will the kitchen be able to handle this? Given the sudden changes in staff?”

“My team can handle anything.” Chris smiles, sending a thrill through you. "I'll make it an evening you won’t forget."

You swallow hard, tearing your gaze from his. This chemistry is dangerous. Off limits. You straighten, smoothing your expression into cool professionalism.

"Wonderful. Shall we finalize the details then?" You flip open your ipad, poising the stylus over the screen.

Chris leans back in his chair, regarding you through half-lidded eyes, studying your face. You raise a brow.

After a long moment, Chris chuckles again, content with whatever it is he’s discovered. "Details it is." He folds his hands on the table, giving you his full attention. "What do you need from me?"

You go back and forth discussing the details. Dani chimes in as necessary, but the conversation is mainly between you and Chris. Dani excuses herself to deal with something in the back.

"Imagine this," he starts, "a deconstructed bouillabaisse, each element a surprise on the palate."

You nod, intrigued. The idea is bold, inventive. It's exactly what Marcus loves.

"Seafood sourced locally?" you ask, thinking of freshness, sustainability—the buzzwords that please your clients.

"Of course." Chris' smile is confident. "Nothing but the best."

You move on to presentation, discussing plating styles. Rustic elegance versus modern chic. He sketches shapes on a napkin—curves, lines, a swoop here for sauce, a stack there for texture. You watch him work. The way his brow furrows in concentration, the occasional bite of his lip.

"Guests eat with their eyes first," he says, locking eyes with you. His enthusiasm is infectious.

"Absolutely," you agree, feeling the pull of his passion. You turn back to your notes. “Marcus also has a love for theatrics, so keep that in mind too.”

Chris nods, and makes a few additional suggestions.

You glance up from your notes, meeting Chris's gaze. His eyes are warm, crinkling at the corners as he smiles. Your heart stutters at the sight.

"I think we have everything covered." You pretend to scan your notes and hope your voice sounds normal. "Unless there's anything else you want to discuss?"

“Dietary restrictions?”

“I’ll have my assistant Nat send you notes on that once we finalize the guest list by the end of the week.”

“Perfect.”

“Just be prepared. The requests from these rich folks tend to border on ridiculous. We’ll need to figure out how to incorporate them without sacrificing the menu's integrity. It might be a bit much given our timeline. Given the potential complications, does the end of the week still work?”

“I’ll make it work,” he says confidently.

"Great. Thank you." You breathe easier. Your eyes connect with his and neither of you look away.

"All set?" Dani asks, seemingly appearing out of nowhere and breaking the spell.

"Yup! All set," you confirm, finally looking away and standing as you slip the tablet into your bag. You feel lighter, energized by the collaboration, by Chris' fervor. The event looms large, but so does the excitement. And maybe something more. “Thanks for meeting with me today.”

Your gaze drifts again to Chris, as he rises as well. You watch the way his hair curls just slightly under the edge of his baseball cap, how his eyes glint with life and laughter. Your heart thuds harder. You're not supposed to notice these things. He rounds the table to stand next to you.

“The pleasure was all mine.” His voice is low and husky, catching you mid-stare. A knowing smile plays on his lips—the dimples teasing you. "Got your phone?" he asks.

"Uh, yeah." You fumble in your bag, your cheeks warm. You trade phones, fingers brushing, lingering. Numbers are exchanged, a necessity cloaked in possibility.

"Call me if anything changes," he says, handing back your device. His eyes hold yours, a silent conversation you're both too aware of. Time stretches until you come to your senses.

"Will do," you manage, voice steady despite the fluttering in your chest. "Thank you, Chef," you say, turning to leave.

Chris grins. “Until next time.”

Out on the sidewalk, the city buzzes around you. You tuck into the stream of people, lost in thought. The quickening pulse at the base of your neck is hard to ignore. Chris. His talent, his charisma, his looks —dangerously magnetic.

You're drawn to him, undeniably so. But this is about work. You’re wondering how you will resist him. The questions loop in your mind, chasing each other like shadows as you navigate back to the office.

Still, his smile lingers. The plump lips. The twinkle in his eye. The fucking dimples. There's no denying the chemistry between you, a dangerous attraction that threatens to derail the event if you're not careful. Still, you can't ignore the thrill his heated looks ignite within you or how his passion for cooking sparks your own enthusiasm.

You take a deep breath.

Back at your computer, you find several emails from Marcus, each terser than the last, demanding updates. You don’t have time for fucking romance. With a sigh, you settle in to respond, pushing all thoughts of Chris from your mind.

The Recipe Tasting

The brass handle is cold under your touch as you push open the door to the restaurant, a sanctuary of calm in the early hours of Saturday morning. Chris’ message said to just come on in when you arrived. A thrill dances up your spine, mingling with the anticipation that's been simmering since you set this meeting with him. The moment you step inside, the rich tapestry of scents wraps around you—garlic, fresh herbs, a hint of citrus.

"Good morning," Chris greets. There’s a hint of fatigue in his eyes, but his dimpled smile radiates warmth against the cool backdrop of the quiet dining room. His chef's whites hug his athletic frame, a stark contrast to the dark, tousled curls peeking out from beneath the gray beanie he's donned today. You follow behind him, and can’t help it when your eyes drop to take in how well the pants highlight his perfectly round ass. You glance around the pristine kitchen, noticing the organized chaos of ingredients and tools laid out for the tasting.

“How long have you been here?” you ask.

"Since four this morning," he says over his shoulder, with a shrug. The motion accentuating the breadth of shoulders beneath the crisp white shirt. “There’s a lot to prepare, but I wanted everything to be perfect for you.” His tone is laced with pride.

"It’s just a tasting. No need for perfection. Yet," you respond, admiring the dedication.

"Wouldn't have it any other way," he replies.

In the kitchen, stainless steel surfaces gleam under the fluorescent lights. A pan sizzles on one of the stoves, punctuating the symphony of aromas. Chris removes the pan from the heat before leading you to a prep table, ingredients arrayed like paint on an artist's palette. He pulls out the stool for you. As you sit, you feel his thumb graze lightly across your side. You’re unsure whether it was intentional or accidental. You don’t react outwardly, but inside, you start to feel fluttering in your belly.

"Let me show you what I've got planned," he says, gesturing towards the display with his broad, strong and veiny hand.

"Surprise me," you challenge, your voice steadier than your racing heart.

One by one, he lifts lids from pots, unveiling the dishes. Each carries a story, a piece of his soul: braised short ribs that hint at his Korean heritage, vibrant vegetables speaking to his Australian upbringing. He talks, hands painting the air with his passion, eyes alight with creativity.

"Each dish is a chapter," he explains. "A narrative in flavor."

You nod, captivated not just by the food but by him—by the fervor in his voice, the spark in his gaze. Today, Chris isn't just a chef; he's a storyteller, and you hang on every word.

Chris approaches with the first dish, his stride confident. The steam curls upward as he sets it down before you, the aroma a prelude to the flavors awaiting discovery.

"Try this," he urges, the dimples in his cheek deepening with his encouraging smile.

The fork feels cool against your fingertips. You spear a tender morsel, and it succumbs to the gentle pressure. Brought to your lips, the flavor blooms across your tongue—earthy, rich, with a whisper of spice that tickles your palate.

"Wow," escapes from you. It's more than taste; it's emotion, memory, a dance of textures and aromas that resonate with something primal within you.

Chris leans on the stainless steel table, eyes locked on yours, searching for more than approval. "What does it remind you of?" His voice is low, inviting.

"A bonfire during sunset on a secluded beach. That moment when the sky's ablaze and you're caught between day and night," you say, the image so clear you can almost hear the waves lapping at the shore.

"Perfect," he breathes out, satisfaction lighting up his face. "That balance is exactly what I was aiming for."

"Chris, this is... incredible." Your words are honest, stripped of pretense by the genuineness of the experience.

"Good, because there's more to come." He stands straight, the professional veil slipping back into place, but the lingering look he gives you is all warmth and shared secrets.

"Bring it on," you reply, the challenge in your tone softened by a playful smile, eager for the next act in this delicious play.

You watch as he plates the next dish and walks back to you. He slides the plate in front of you, the vibrant colors of the dish popping against the stark white. Your nostrils flare slightly, taking in the aromatic fusion wafting from the arrangement.

"Try this," he encourages. "A little adventure on a plate. Octopus carpaccio with chorizo crumble and saffron aioli."

You lift your fork to your lips. The first bite is a revelation as the medley of bold, yet harmonious flavors explodes on your tongue. A soft moan escapes you before you catch yourself.

Chris smirks at the sound, his eyes gleaming with satisfaction at you’re reaction. “Glad you like it.” He slides a glass towards you. You take a sip, surprised to find that it is white wine, but it’s perfect as it accentuates the flavors. “The saffron provides an interesting contrast to the the brininess of the octopus.” He picks the glass up and brings it to his own lips.

"It's amazing." You gesture at the dish with your fork. "The blend of textures and flavors is incredible." You place another forkful into your mouth, closing your lips around the silverware before pulling it out slowly to get as much as the flavor off as possible. You notice his eyes focused on your lips. "Your skill... it's exceptional." You speak between bites, each word sincere.

"Cooking is an art form. The ability to blend flavors and culinary traditions from different cultures is fascinating to me." He leans forward, his gaze snapping back up to your eyes. "But the real joy is in sharing the experience with someone who appreciates it."

"I love cooking too, but it’s more of a hobby for me. There's so much joy in exploring new tastes, new techniques."

"Exactly! For me, it began with my grandmother's recipes. She brought Korea to our Australian kitchen." His hands animate his words, the story bringing a dance to his fingers as they mimic chopping and stirring.

"Family recipes are treasures." You pause, the memory of your dad's jerk chicken seasoning your words with nostalgia. "My dad's Caribbean roots spice up our meals. It's like every dinner tells a part of our story."

"Food is our connection to heritage, to family." Chris nods, a grin spreading across his face, softened by the dimples that carve into his cheeks. "It's amazing how it brings people together, isn't it?"

"Absolutely." You smile, lost momentarily in the shared understanding, the common ground blooming like the herbs in a well-tended garden. With each shared anecdote, the connection deepens, roots twisting around a budding possibility.

You reach for the next plate, not sure what it is, but eager to taste anyway. Chris reaches for the plate at the same time, his intention to guide you through the flavors of his latest creation. Your fingers graze his, light as whispers, as you simultaneously grab the plate and a shock of warmth surges up your arm. You freeze, caught in the unexpected intimacy of skin against skin.

His gaze locks with yours. It's a silent conversation, a question posed in the depths of his brown eyes that beg for an answer. Your heart beats a staccato rhythm, betraying the calm façade you struggle to maintain. The air crackles with the energy shared in that fleeting touch, the undercurrents of attraction swirling like steam from the hot dishes scattered across the counter.

The moment stretches, awareness growing between you both. You want nothing more than to close the distance between your bodies, to discover the taste of the full, sensual mouth that has been tempting you all morning. His gaze dips to your mouth then returns to your eyes, and you wonder if he's imagining the same thing. You wonder if he'll act on the desire simmering in the air. But after a long moment, he straightens and clears his throat, looking away.

"Sorry," he murmurs, but there's no real apology in his voice, only a low timbre that resonates somewhere deep within you. His smile is a half-formed thing, laden with meanings you're not sure you should decipher.

“It’s fine," you reply, your voice barely above a whisper. "What is this?" you ask, referring to the plate still held by both of you. You release it, allowing him to set it down in front of you. You sit back in the stool, trying to calm yourself.

“Taste it.” He picks up your fork and scoops up the perfect bite before guiding it to your mouth. You open wide, your eyes locked on his as the fork enters your mouth.

Rich flavors explode on your tongue—spicy chili, fresh lime, and tangy fish sauce with coconut milk, redolent of Chris's Korean-Australian heritage.

"My halmeoni—my grandmother—taught me this recipe." His eyes soften with affection. "It's one of my favorites. A fusion of Korean and Australian flavors."

"It's incredible." He fills up another forkful and offers it to you. You close your eyes as you accept it, savoring another bite. "The blend of spices is perfect."

"I'm glad you appreciate it." His smile is warm and genuine. He uses the same fork to take his own bite. You bring the glass of wine to your lips for another sip and watch as he chews, then swallows slowly. When his tongue darts out to lick his lips you feel your vagina clench. His eyes haven’t left you either.

The air seems to vibrate between the two of you. His eyes drop to your lips again, you start to lean forward, closing the gap between you as if drawn by an invisible force. Chris mirrors you, his breath beginning to mingle with yours as you both move closer to each other. In this charged space, time seems suspended, waiting for one of you to shatter the delicate balance with a single, reckless act.

As you start to close your eyes, the kitchen door bangs open, shattering the moment. You and Chris spring apart as Dani strides in, her confident steps resonating on the tiled floor. She pauses, taking in the scene with a knowing tilt of her head. "Morning, you two," she says, a hint of amusement coloring her words. "How’s the tasting going."

You sit back in the stool, the bubble of tension popping in the wake of her arrival. Chris clears his throat, a flush creeping up his neck and the tips of ears turning bright red as he busies himself with adjusting the placement of the dishes. "Good, good," he says, the casualness of his tone not quite reaching his eyes. “We’re almost done here.”

“Cool.” Dani raises an eyebrow but doesn't comment further. She moves past the two of you to the office in the back of the kitchen, her motion sweeping away the remnants of the moment you and Chris almost shared.

You swallow hard, your pulse racing as Dani delves into her pre-opening routine.

You catch Chris' eye once more. He smiles warmly and begins to explain the last few dishes he’s prepared, sharing them out on small plates. He lets you feed yourself this time. The two of you easily slip back into your roles as you discuss how the dishes fit together and what makes the most sense for the event. You both busy yourselves with taking notes as you work together to finalize the menu. Although tension still lingers in the air, thick and heady as the aromas wafting through the kitchen, neither of you acknowledge it.

#stray kids fanfic #stray kids fanfiction #stray kids #skz fanfic #bang chan #bangchan fanfic #bang chan imagines #skz smut #bang chan smut #bangchan smut #stray kids smut #bangchan

21 notes · View notes