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precious-little-scoundrel · 2 days

Text

|| Radio ||

Requested plot points? ☑️

Circa: early February 1944

Immediate previous fic: Favorite Escape

Summary: when your hodge podge radio won’t work, who should ya call? Probably the flight engineer

Warnings: usual universe warnings apply, 18+ but nothing very alarming really happens in this one, references to others are made, some potential slut shaming in the beginning if ya squint? perhaps some queer baiting but it’s the Buckies rolling around on the flooor, they’re one massive queer bait lbr, it’s not me. Also. My shit Crystal Radio making descriptions- don’t come for me I haven’t made one and I spent five hours falling down a rabbit hole as to how the guys made them in the camps and at the end of the day I said: screw it! And went with one of the Brit’s scenarios 🍻

Edited only by my tired little eyes, full warning and have mercy 💋

Also, just a note I feel compelled to make- this fic centers around women in the army, in a war, which they’re spending under dire conditions in a POW camp. Yes there is love here, there is also hierarchy and discipline and the enforcement of that does not make one character or another necessarily callous or less loving. They are their ranks first and foremost as all signed up for.

“They’re forging papers, you know.” Maureen broached the topic to Egan one day, late February and when her cheeks were still bruised from Ida’s book.

Bucky paused his tracing of a map, sooty finger trailing along a river with the same incomprehensible name as its twin running parallel, he didn’t know anything about papers or anyone making them and she knew that. “Who?”

“Good ones. Identification, passports.” She enumerated.

“Who?”

“The Poles. The ones with the-“

“-the liquor.” he finished for her, remembrance and condemnation heavy in his wry tone. “The ones you stayed out all night with.”

“Stayed long enough for them to get drunk enough to show me.”she replied, without heat, which was surprising.

“Some grand plan of yours, huh?” He bit back a laugh, it was a fine way to cover her ass for being insubordinate. It was a way he’d likely try if he was in her place.

“No.” she swore instead. “Just luck, I happened to see them. They got careless. Maybe an answer to all Jack’s prayers.”

“Yeah. Anything to give that rosary a break.”

“Yeah.”

“You asked them?”

“What for?”

Bucky regarded her with thinning patience but something kept him from snapping, the feeling of a riddle still to be solved. “For some papers.” he clarified, measured and intent, she knew how much easier that would make their plans for Ida.

Maureen shook her head, glancing down at her twisting hands, “I didn’t want to-“ her mouth twisted too, “-I wanted to ask a superior first.”

Bucky considered that for a moment, slightly touched at her newfound wisdom, “Why not ask Buck?”

She shook her head again, auburn hair curling under her chin just so, even here in the stalag she had some traces of the old charm. “He’s got too much to worry about for me to be bringing in hypotheticals.” she was so upset by something she would not even meet John’s eye and he felt a slice of remorse for how he hadn’t even noticed the ground down change in her since she got here, his drinking buddy and the soft fleshed rival of merry old English days was a gruff and battered and sullen woman; being a red blooded American male, he regretted that dismal change. “And I'm worried about what to bargain with. What can I promise? We haven’t got much and I don’t have— there’s not much anyway, but what we’ve got I didn’t wanna promise. Not without-“ she still hadn’t met his eye, he tracked hers; a furious roving of pale blue back and forth across the floorboards and it made Bucky itch.

“Who signs these papers?” Bucky asked, thinking the logistics through, knowing she’d perk up if he brought them up.

“Haven’t a clue. Maybe they haven’t figured that part out yet. I don’t know. I just know they’ve got papers.”

“Good ones.”

“Yeah.”

“We haven’t got much.” he agreed, clicking his teeth in thought, “What’d you give them for the liquor?”

“They just invited me.”

“Didn’t have to lend a hand or nothin’?” he balked and Maureen threw him a glare that seemed more hurt than rage, and chastened by a voice inside that sounded much like his mama’s, he amended with sheepish humor, “Hell, feel like lending a hand myself these days, if it’d get me a whisky.”

Her gnarled fist curled white in her lap, she managed hoarsely, “They just wanted to talk about home. To someone who hadn’t heard about it a million times before.”

“They got cigarettes?” he asked.

“As most common payment for their booze -they’ve got enough to insulate their shack three deep.”

“Cigarettes won’t cut it then.”

“I’ve been thinking.”-

“Yeah?”

“The radio. I’m the only one who doesn’t think it’s worth the risk but, I know, it doesn’t matter, it’s happening. Gale’s going to keep trying. And if it works-“ she rubbed at her eyes, tired and unsure, “-that’s quite the bargaining chip.”

Bucky nodded slowly, eyes narrowing as his smile grew a touch broader, “News of the outside world.” he was half in agreement, “Buck asked for a week. Been four days.”

“He’s stumped.” Maureen retorted instantly. “And he’ll stay that way and he’ll go nuts and you’ll go die going over the fence and then he’ll have no reason left not to die too.”

Bucky whistled, low and chiding, “You’re full of rainbows today, Candy.”

“You know who he oughta ask.” she shook off the barb. “But he won’t. And I don’t want him risking it for this thing anymore than anyone else, but you all want it so bad, and they’ll shoot us for it if it works or not. I’m not asking her. But you would. Might as well get shot for it working, right? Isn't that what you said yesterday? You know who he should ask.”

Bucky’s keen eyes showed the moment it dawned on him, his eyebrows shot up and his mouth sagged and he ran a weathered hand over his face, “Awww shit, Candy.” came garbled behind his palm. “Ah shit.” he said again with conviction as he shoved the hand into his pocket, wretched acknowledgment of her point clear on his face.

“I didn’t want to suggest it, told Ida it’s a fucking dangerous thing and I’ll never forgive if— but you all—“

Bucky grounded aloud, “Nah, nah she’s -Lu would solve it.” he muttered, shushing her. “Demarco really pummeled you the other day, huh?” he added, and that got her to meet his eye, she looked spooked and a little incensed, “Saw him fuckin’ you up behind B compound but sheesh, s’like he hollowed you out worse than a jacolantern; yer shifty as hell.”

“He-“ Maureen still felt like blanching at the memory of Benny’s terribly correct opinions, his disappointed eyes and his fist full of her flight jacket asking her what in the living fuck was wrong with her besides a concussion, a sick childhood and an ever nauseating jealousy of Buck Cleven’s paternal time and effort, “-he had some admonitions. After…after the other night.”

Bucky hummed, shitty smirk taking up residence on his face, “How ‘bout that.”

“I’m gonna be better.” she muttered and Bucky felt for her, could almost taste the echo of his identical and hollow determination to climb the mountain of bad habits when weak from spuds and pneumonia. He told himself the same every morning and fell into bed condoning his failure every night, like a ritual.

“You’re gonna get us those papers.” he corrected, shoving off the wall to come near her, give her the full Major treatment and maybe a friendly hand, “And you can promise your drinkin’ buddies news from the radio.”

Maureen nodded in understanding, no joy or animation left in her green eyes. She used to enjoy a bit of subterfuge, now she only felt hollow misery at the thought that she'd dragged Lu into this, too. This risk she hated so much and yet no one cared. Lu would be glad to be dragged in, it’s true, she was itching at the chance to be useful and to make Gale proud, it’s how the girl was wired. It’s how most girls were wired, Maureen supposed, desperate to make Gale Cleven approve. Lu’s enthusiasm wouldn’t make the sight of her being made to kneel in the mud and have a bullet put in her head any easier, wouldn’t make Maureen feel any less responsible for it when her lifeless body thudded to the earth.

All that lovely goodness stamped out.

Over a radio.

Bucky’s hand felt too hard and too big on her shoulder. He had gone before the vision cleared, mud and wire and the freezing main square at Ravensbruck fading back to the musty bunk room. Maureen shook herself and stood up to make herself somehow appealing, reamniante some semblance of the cheerful rashness that had led her to the Polish combine in the first place: she found it hard to inspire. She’d like to count that a victory but she knew better, she wasn’t reformed she was just tired.

A washed face and a fake smile and the promise of news from outside would have to be enough to bank all their risks on, it would have to be.

“Crank,” she greeted the man in the hall, flashing him clean, water brushed teeth and her gentlest, freshly soot lined eyes, “I’ve been tasked by Major Egan with an errand, spare a minute to babysit me?”

__________________________________

Bucky finds Buck Cleven in his own bunkroom, Demarco outside on watch and that’s all Bucky needs to know to guess the radio is out and Buck’s working like a fiend yet again to make it work. Sure enough, he’s hunched over the table with it, mittened hands shaking from cold and exhaustion and a sheen of sweat on his forehead despite the paltry sweater he wears.

Bucky walks in and Gale gives him a soft, acknowledging glance before continuing to his work. Bucky takes up his usual place behind Buck’s left shoulder to watch and Buck, being used to it, goes on.

“My little Kriegie Marconi, huh?” Bucky allows the nagging impulse he has felt for weeks while standing in this position to finally exert itself, and his forefinger lifts and swirls in the curling gold strands of hair at the nape of Gale’s neck, his friend almost bolts away but then seems to choose a prey’s tactic and just stills, goes very still and Bucky scritches the scalp beneath his grab in assurance he don’t meant anything by it. He doesn’t think he does, at least.

Gale, wary and with a voice close to mechanized it’s so stilted, inquires with ever-present politeness, “You alright Bucky?”

It’s better than that whole ‘major’ business; getting called Major as if that meant shit anymore. “Yeah, ‘course I am.” Bucky rakes his fingers through the hairs there at the nape of that dainty neck, scritches the scalp with all four of his main ones, and uncovers a white long scar sliding round once he lifts the hairs there. “Why wouldn’t I be? Gonna be a father soon.”

Buck does jerk then, away from his touch and wheeling his chair around to glare at Bucky; it’s an impressively executed little pirouette and John misses the feel of his warm neck and oil soft hair. “Jesus John.” he reprimands.

“We’re gonna get outta here Buck.” John swears, he’s so sure of it because he cannot in all his thinking and predicting ever imagine a scenario where they don’t, and he chooses to think it’s not delusion but a good omen. “Ida’s gonna have that baby and when it’s safe we’ll all meet up.”

Gale is looking at him like he’s his own father again, Bucky knows that look, it always makes him equal parts ashamed and desperate, “Jus’ like that.” Gale mocks in a husky gust.

It’s devastating, and it’s intended to be, and Bucky could bear that with better humor if he could still touch Gale and his hair. “Just like that.”

Gale hums and it’s a mean sorta vocalization that makes Bucky’s heart thud and his skin prickle hot, it’s the kinda noise you kiss off a person, he thinks, but it’s Buck and so he doesn’t know what to do with it. “It’s gonna get you killed.” Buck is saying instead and Bucky lets him, “I know you all think she’s cracked up and maybe she has but it wouldn’t hurt to listen to Kendeigh sometimes when she’s tellin’ ya shit that a five year old could accurately guess, -goddamn it.”

His voice rose to a strong rage by the end and Bucky takes a chair opposite him, sick of standing there like a dumb dog waiting for his scolding to be over. “So what.” Bucky challenges him, “We just wait around and Brady pops out a child and the krauts let us keep it and it’s our new mascot and we all sing zippidy doo da, huh? Huh, Buck?”

Gale’s hands fell away from his face with a slam to the table, a shocking degree of anger showing for a split second and it gave Bucky an odd degree of gratification. “I jus’ want you to find a plan with better odds.”

Bucky sniffed and leaned forward, went in for the kill and Gale was looking at him like he expected it, like it was his turn to play daddy to everyone here and Gale for once was so beaten down he wouldn’t just allow the changing of the guard, he was close to angry at its lateness. It made Bucky’s heart thud.

“I’ve been listening to Kendeigh.” Bucky refuted briefly, “And we’ve got a plan.” Gale gave him a tired look of encouragement to go on, “How long’s it been since you slept? Huh, well, we got a plan. Practically perfect, or it will be, just need the radio.”

“Ain’t giving this away.” Gale said, “Not for anythin’, even useless.”

Bucky patted the table top in easy assurance, if he could have reached Buck’s thigh, he’d have patted that instead, “No, no, don’t need to give it away, just need it to work. So,” he softened his voice and his eyes tightened, “I’m callin’ Lu in.”

Oddly, Gale does not fight it. Not aloud, at least. There’s an anguished look of hate on his face and Bucky mirrors it. It’s for this place and the fucking awful choices they have to choose from every goddamn day.

“You run this by Ida?” is all he asks.

Bucky pops his flaking lips audibly, “What, need us both gangin’ up on you to agree? She’ll sign off. Smith’s an officer. Gotta remember that sometimes, Buck.”

The way his Buck swallows hard and dry contradicts his words, “I do remember that.”

“Really?” Bucky’s mouth gives a soft smile of doubtful incredulity and Gale’s mimics it, mournful but a smirk all the same, “Feel like she should answer to ‘Gale’s Baby’ these days. Lieutenant Smith who?”

Gale scoffs, “Careful now.”

“No really, she’s an officer and she wants to be treated like one. It’ll do her good to have work. Her kinda work.”

“Could get her killed.”

“Layin’ in her bunk could do that.”

Gale grunts, its sounds like an agreement.

“So I say Lieutenant Smith gets put on radio detail. Like her goddamn job description suggests. Huh, yeah?”

“Yeah.” Gale lets out a shaky agreement.

“Aaaaand,” Bucky draws it out as he rises again and saunters over to Buck who is ready for him and loose this time, “how bout I go back to bein’ the one you’re frettin’ ‘bout all the time. Got me almost jealous of the girl. How ‘bout I do. Huh?”

Gale’s scoff is fond as anything as he looks up at John with cheerful derision, “And you ‘bout to be a father? Make me an old man? Fuck no, ya looney.”

“Alright.” Bucky concedes with hands up in surrender before lurching forward and grasping Gale’s rickety chair back by its wobbly spokes and hefting it partially off the ground, beautiful and outraged prude of an occupant still seated in it, “Then I’ll play daddy and put you to bed, how ‘bout that.”

“John Egan for fucks sake-“ Gale’s fists pounded on the meat of his shoulders and his outraged protests wafted against Bucky’s neck and his jabbing knees collided with the meat of his thighs and Bucky hadn’t felt so close to him or so happy to be alive since England.

“Major sir, the hell is goin’ on?” Demarco’s tame inquiry from the safety of the doorway made them both lose their grapple and they collided together onto the floor, bunk bed barely missed by their heads and the hapless chair mixed up between their limbs.

Bucky grinned, hip sore from his fall and kidneys suffering from Buck’s trapped elbow there, “Puttin’ Goldilocks to bed.” he replied.

DeMarco processed that and the scene before him with grave sobriety before saluting lazily and turning to go, “Right on, sir.”

John did his best to rise up without further pinching Gale who was indeed trapped beside him and beneath him, chair legs wound between a lanky human leg in a puzzle that Bucky realized might take some caution to untangle without harm. Strangely, Buck wasn’t moving, he was just looking up at him like a cat would their clumsy master who has done somethin’ stupid which was a surprise to neither. It was so innocuous a look and so nostalgic, it winded Bucky with the realization he hadn’t seen it in ages, just as he hadn’t felt his boney ribs against his own and the feel of his elegant hands yanking him around in a fight. This miserable place really was stomping out the glow in the best people.

“Ya know Buck,” he ventured, clearing his throat for extra casualness, “I’ve missed you.” When Gale only kept looking up at him, perfect porcelain face with its unsettling scars and wary eyes without a lick of storm in them, John Egan grabbed his shovel and dug his own grave a little deeper, drug a finger down his cheek. “Missed all this.”

Bucky didn’t know what he meant by “this” but it felt safer and worse all at once, since he did miss Buck but he and Buck never used to hang out on floors with a chair as chaperone. Mercifully, Buck neither points that out nor moves away, acting very much like he needed to heaped on the floor with Bucky and a stray chair every bit as much as John did. Like it’s doing him good.

“And you couldn’t’ve jus’ said.” Gale murmurs with the softest eye roll of the century and Bucky feels like beaming and it must show in his face so strong and bright after a sunless winter that after a flash Gale’s cheeks flame from it and he averts his eyes.

“I dunno Buck, could I?” Egan asks one blushing cheek and Gale hasn’t got a good reply for that, so they just lay there on the floor.

“Go on now, get off me.” Gale doesn’t shove at him, he presses his hand to John’s forehead like he would a dog and John goes, obedient as one.

———————————————————————-

They found Lu with Murph and Benny and Brady, measuring out what seemed to be lot lines between Love Shack #9 and the next combine, boot scuffed perimeters already visible in the light snow and drawn in a decently tidy rectangle. There were guards loitering nearby, nosey as always with their cigarettes and their antsy dogs anytime someone did something out there besides piss or pace or stare at the fence.

“What’s all this?” Bucky inquired cheerfully, coming up to them with Gale, bundled and shivering behind him.

Benny looked up from tilling a furrow with his boot, right where Lu’s mittened finger pointed out. “It’s for the garden. S’posed to be spring before long.”

“A Chicago man oughta know better, Benny.” Egan snarked.

“Need us?”

Bucky sniffed, a casual set to his body that belied his quest, “Just the little one.”

Smith promptly looked startled, then eager. “All well Majors?”

“Need your advice on the color of my cufflinks with this suit.” Bucky extended his arm and beckoned her, “C’mon back in for a minute. One of you too, need a watch to go with the cufflinks.”

———————————————————————

With Benny on guard, Brady and Kendeigh having excavated the radio’s shell from the floorboard and table leg in which it resided, the Buckies stood over Smith’s small frame as she sat at the table and inspected the simplistic device with keen eyed appreciation for the construct.

“It’s really marvelous.” she assured Cleven, running her fingers over the carefully coiled wire and precarious pin.

Gale didn’t even crack a smile. “What’s wrong with it?” he asked instead.

She shook her head, a frown gathering. “Never made one-“ she cautioned.

“-but you get the idea.”

“Yes sir, I do.”

“So what’s wrong.”

Lu ran her fingers over the wire, again and again, the dusty metal not insulated, just bare copper, likely stripped from somewhere. It reminded her of early days as a cadet when they threw chicken wire mixed with hydraulic lines at herself and her fellow rookie engineers and told them to sort it, testing to see if they knew which was which. It had been so rudimentary she had wanted to laugh until she realized others were being flunked.

This was so basic she was stumped.

“Take your time, Lu.” Bucky spoke up after a burdened pause during which she could almost feel Major Cleven breathing down her neck.

“Candy, can I try with the headphone?” she asked at last, frustrated and out of her element, just a few months out of a plane and she had already lost her touch.

Maureen passed it over and Lu pressed it to her ear, not to discern what was quite obviously radio silence, but to imagine the whole process in reverse, track it down the cord all the way to the base, each possible breakdown of the conduction.

She fingered the ramshackle diode with burgeoning suspicion. “What’s your crystal?”

“That’s just…lead.” Cleven muttered.

“From?”

“Ground pencils.” Bucky supplied cheerfully.

Smith bit her lip, “We need sulfur added. Lead won’t conduct on its own.” She figured Cleven knew that, the grim and unmoving set of his mouth suggested so.

“Just- sulfur?” Maureen asked.

“If I had sulfur we could add it to the lead dust, ignite it and-“ Smith grinned at Kendeigh, knowing that she alone may have shared her enjoyment of a small conflagration from time to time, “burn it down and you’ve got something close enough to Galena. Just need a pinch of it should work.”

Bucky shoved his hands in his pockets and surveyed the mostly morose room. All except for the two girls grinning at each other over the hypothetical of a little chemistry experiment in a highly flammable wooden combine.

“We’ve got sandy soil.” Buck’s contemplative drawl spoke up, “Dunno if we could extract enough pure sulfur.”

Maureen stared back at Egan instead, “Other sectors have gotten portions of kits, chemistry kits, radio kits, they’ve been smuggled in with all sorts of stuff. Inside of a violin, oat bags. Nothing to fully build something. They might have sulfur. I could make inquiries and- well, Jack could pick it up next time the band goes over C compound to entertain the poor Aussie bastards.”

“How do you kno- nevermind, actually. Nevermind.” Bucky broke off, “Alright. Sure, why not. Ya sure that’s it?” he asked Lu once more.

She gave a helpless little shrug. “Gotta be. Or the wire’s dirty. Where’d it come from anyway?”

Gale gave Bucky a long suffering look as Bucky seemed to swell a couple inches and bounce back on his heels at the mention of his scrounging prowess. “The lamp.” he nodded above them all.

Jack Brady scoffed, short, clipped, betrayed, “That why it cuts out all the time? Strobed us so bad last night -thought the room was possessed.”

“Sacrifices Jack, sacrifices.”

———————————————————

Benny had hauled in enough water buckets to elicit some negative attention from the guards, and when the inspection came the inmates of the Love Shack insisted the drenched floors and table of the Majors’ barracks were due to sanitation post regurgitation. At night, with only one stolen torch light from Combine 15 to illuminate the endeavor, a basin of water beneath a smaller bowl in which lay their precious and recently procured ingredients, a science experiment began. The Majors and Ida gathered round, all looking as ghastly and spectral in the light of the flashlight as Brady’s fake ghost. It held the thrill of a bonfire night except for the stakes, which all in the room did their best not to dwell on.

“Zippo, Candy.” Lu gave the word and Maureen, with only the protection of Ida’s bent aviators to keep from a scorched cornea, flicked on her lighter and set the mixed powders ablaze.

It flamed up high and smelly, making Benny gag and mutter something about Meatball’s gas to a tittering Brady, and then died down to a yellow smoking ember.

“We should let it sit.” Lu surmised with a squeeze to Maureen’s only somewhat singed hand, her big dark eyes surveying the burnt bowl and their smoking experiment with glittery excitement at the possibility of success, “Let it cool, settle, maybe strain it. Can you get me a net? Oh Candy come now, get me a strainer?” she begged with a laugh as Maureen rolled her eyes at the idea of yet another trip to the Stalag Market for the most random items imaginable. If they hoped to not be suspicious, they’d need better lies or more money.

“How about cheesecloth?” Kendeigh tried not to grin indulgently- and failed- in the face of Lu and having recently been allowed to set something on fire

Lu kissed her cheek. “Cheesecloth would be perfect.”

In the end, cheesecloth did indeed prove perfect, and amongst the burnt dust of the combined minerals was a gritty little pinch full of the needed crystals. Or so Lu said, Gale agreed but the crease between his brows hadn’t lifted for two days; Bucky’s fingers had begun to twitch in antsy need to manually smooth them out. He imagined Maureen felt the same but she hadn’t said, uncharacteristically forbearant now she had some job to keep her sane. Even if it was playing fetch for Lu.

—————————————————————

“Well, this is it.” Gale muttered when the watch had been set once more, Murph and Hambone on the steps, Crank inside, Brady at the door, Benny at the window. Even Major Clark had joined them in the barracks for this final try and Lu’s cheeks were maroon from the attention even as her deft hands steadily pressed her concoction beneath its intended rod.

“Pass me the pliers, sir?” She asked and for a moment, the teacher became the apprentice and Gale fetched her the stalag forged tool, rudimentary like everything here yet the gripped and pulled and lifted same as the pliers back home. “You could check your look in this wire’s reflection.” She complimented Gale’s buffing of the copper wire.

He shrugged in turn. “Didn't wanna leave anythin’ to chance. That it?” he asked as her hands stalled and she surveyed her work.

Lu nodded solemnly. “Yes sir.”

Gale picked up the headphone from in front of him on the table like it was a gun he was about to bring to his head. “Here.” He extended it to her instead, “S’right, it was your job, you should be the first. Cmon.”

Despite her voiceless protest he pressed the headphones into her hands and Lu, never knowing how to disobey an officer, folded immediately.

For a good ten seconds everyone in the room held their breath as Smith pressed the headphone to her ear and gently wiggled the clothespin along the wire, searching and tuning, her face holding that old peaceful concentration they hadn’t seen since the last mission. She was at home with her mind tuned to another dimension. The pilots in the room knew that look, that was the look of someone at home with something that terrified them all the same, the gut swooping feeling of clearing the take off and sledding along the tops of the clouds. Wrong and strange and utterly incomparable to others, it was the closest to home one’s mind could be. Lu belonged somewhere on those electric currents and searching them out was like finding oneself again.

Then at last, Lu’s eyes sharpened out of their dreamy haze of concentration and she said, gentle as always, “It’s the BBC sir.”

💋 Hope you enjoyed! Feedback is a writer’s lifeblood, please feel free to scream in comments or the inbox, I love it and wanna hear it all. Trust me, nothing is “too dumb”. Your thoughts mean the world to me.

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rosenclaws · 3 days

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obsessed with your ex || Worst!Logan Howlett smut

summary: In his world you were his wife and he loved you and then you died. In this world you're his girlfriend and he loves you. At least you think he does. Still you can't help the voice in the back of your head telling you that you're nothing but a sad replacement.

warnings: SMUT, MINORS DNI!! 18+ ONLY. insecure + jealous!reader, a very very toxic mindset, the reader's mind is very mean to her, reader is a mutant that can make objects disappear, angst, happy ending, rough sex, riding, french kissing, oral (f!receiving), a slight breakdown, soft sex, missionary, Logan is kinda a softie, cockwarming, fingering.

wc: 2.5k

a/n: Okay so it's here!! I need to make this clear that the readers mindset is NOT healthy and that relationships need good communication. That being said here's my fic idea that I've been thinking about for a bit. I love Olivia Rodrigo sm (I even saw her in concert!!) and this song was just begging to be written into a fic. Anyways I really hope you like it and that it's not too insane lmao. Also i made the graphic but i kinda hate it but i dont wanna change it so here we are I know it's ugly but its FINE

How long have you been here? Staring. Observing every little thing about you. Your nose, your eyes, your lips, your hair, your chin. The way your arms fall by your sides. Every. Little. Detail.

Did she have the same colored eyes? Did she talk like you? Was she smart? Was she powerful? Did he look at her the same way? Did he fuck her like he fucks you?

You clench your fists as you stare angrily at the mirror. He loves you. He says he loves you and yet it feels like you can never compare to her. She was the love of his life. She was an X-Men. She died. She was you. You're his dead fucking wife in his universe while you were nothing to the Logan in this one.

He looked at you like a kicked puppy that first day you met. A lost little pet that had been searching for its owner. Dragged through hell and back just to get to you. It was easy to fall for him. Handsome, a little rough around the edges. You hadn’t even been dating for that long but it didn’t matter right? He worshiped you. He loved you. He promised he loved you.

But sometimes in the back of your head you wonder if when he's kissing you, does he imagine her? Does he close his eyes while he's pounding into you and imagine it's her? How could you ever compete? She was perfect, she was kind, she was everything to him. Spiraling deeper and deeper into a whirlpool of doubt and envy. There's a heavy pounding on the door but you choose to ignore it. Too wrapped up in your twisted mind to care.

"Sweetheart, let me in." Logan's gruff voice was slightly muffled by the door.

You clench your jaw as you finally tear your eyes away from the mirror. You slam open the door taking Logan by surprise. His eyes scan yours for injury, a worried look in his face as he steps into the bathroom.

"I got worried, you were in here a long time." His arms wrap around your waist.

He's looking at you with pity. At least that's what your brain tells you. Was he worried that you were hurt because he loves you or because he was thinking of her death again? You know he still dreams of her. He can hide it when he's awake but the nightmares don't lie. It hurts so bad. Love me. Love me. You're jealous you know. She's dead, she's gone. So why can't he love you. You push him off and storm out the bathroom. Nothing makes sense anymore in your head.

"What the fuck?" Logan follows you and you feel yourself tensing up.

It's a miracle your powers haven't started to go haywire yet. So many different emotions swirl around in your head until it mixes together to form one single feeling.

Need.

You grab Logan's shirt and pull him into you. Smashing your lips onto his with a hunger that you've never felt before. Logan hisses as you bite his bottom lip harshly but you don't give him time to say anything as you slip your tongue into his mouth. He groans as he starts to take some control back. Hands slipping up your shirt and ripping to shreds with ease.

You pull back from his lips, chest heaving for air as you paw at his shirt. Silently demanding he take it off which he happily does. Your lips are back onto his in an instant. He slowly walks you back until you fall onto the bed. You fall onto the bed and lick your lips. The bugle in his pants is evident as you flick your hand and the belt disappears.

"I liked that belt." You pay no mind to his comment as you unbutton his jeans and pull them down, leaving him in his boxers.

"Easy there sweetheart," Logan pushes you back gently and crawls on top of you. Logan kisses down your chest, teasing each nipple with his tongue.

"Let me take my time." He purrs.

His hands touch and squeeze your breasts roughly making you whine. You watch his arms move, god he's so hot. He's close to making you forget. He kisses down, down, all the way down. He sneaks out the tip of his claws to pop open the button of your pants and he yanks them down until they're all the way off.

"There she is, my perfect girl." His girl. That's right your his girl. No one else's.

Logan pulls your panties to the side as he situates himself between your legs. He stuffs his face without shame, licking hungrily and practically moaning at the taste. You arch your back as Logan devours you. Watching his back muscles move are mesmerizing. He's yours. He loves you. He promises he does.

You can't stop the thoughts that begin to invade you. Overwhelmed by pleasure from Logan and pain from the horrible ideas that pop into your head. Did he do this with her too? Did he worship her? Do you taste like her? Is that why he can't get enough?

"Fuck!" You hiss as you sit up and tell Logan to stop. He does immediately, wondering what the hell is going on.

"Can't fucking wait." You scratch down his chest with your nails. He groans and tries to crawl on top of you but you shake your head.

"I'm going to ride you until you can't come anymore." You growl.

You bite his shoulder harshly making him hiss. It heals right up much to your dismay. How badly you wish you could mark him. You make his boxers disappear but before he can make a smart comment you sink down on him all the way. You whimper as you start to bounce on his cock. Loving how much he fills you.

You need to be fucked stupid. You're desperate for Logan to fuck every bad thought out of your head. To promise that he loves you so that you can believe him. You want to believe him. Please, you have to believe him.

"Sweetheart." Logan's breath is labored as you relentlessly fuck yourself on his cock. You feel so damn good but fuck he can tell something is on your mind.

"What do you need, let me help you." He sits up on his hands, placing one on your back as he tries to get you to slow down. His words make you want to scream. What do you need? You look at him and the only thing your rotten brain can tell you is that he is thinking of her.

"I need you to fucking love me!" You yell.

The dam of built up feelings breaks down as tears pour out of your eyes. Ugly, horrible sobs that make your body shake. Logan watches with horror in his eyes as he stills your hips, using his strength to lift you off of him as you continue to cry.

"I do love you." He says softly but you shake your head.

"No!" You shout. You pound your fist against Logan's chest over and over again but he barely moves.

"You love her! I know you do." Logan's heart breaks at the sound of your sobs.

"I'm not your dead fucking wife Logan!" You should regret the words coming out of your mouth but you can't stop them.

"You look at me and you see her. Like I'm just some fucking placeholder!" You let out an anguished scream as Logan captures your wrists in his hands. You know the stories. She was a hero, she was perfect in every single way.

"How can I compete with, with her?" You say completely defeated.

Your head falls against his chest. There's a sense of relief that washes over you. Thoughts that have plagued you for months are finally out in the open. Yet the fear of what comes next overtakes any other feeling.

"Look at me." Logan tilts your head up but you push his hand away.

"Sweetheart." He sighs and lets go of your face.

Logan's never been good at this. Talking. Being vulnerable. Then he lost everything and he hardened even more and he just. This was a new chance at life and even though it's hard he can't lose it all again.

"I know you're not her. Of course I do." Logan presses his forehead against yours, trying to get you to look at him.

"You loved her..." You croak out.

"I did love her. She was my wife. But I love you too. In a different way." He's a different man. Having gone through tremendous loss. It shaped him into who he is now.

"You're different people. Your powers act differently, you talk differently, you feel different. You are not a replacement." He says firmly.

When you finally look at him he feels this horrible pit in his stomach. He wipes away your tears but doesn't make any other move. It's not the right time.

"Would you have even given me a second thought? If I didn't look like her?" You ask, that question has haunted you for a while now but you never asked, too afraid of the answer. Logan is silent, unsure of how to answer.

"When I first saw you it was like a punch in the face." He starts. "For a moment I was 20 years in the past. Then I snapped out of it. You look like her, yes but you’re not her.” He gently traces a small scar on your jaw that you got when you were a child.

“I’m not the same as your Logan right? He was a leader, a hero and I was an angry drunk murderer.”

“I’m not gonna start listing all your fucking differences sweetheart, but I swear on my life that I love you for you.” He pulls you into a tight hug as you start to cry again. You cling onto him as tight as you can. The bad thoughts don’t just stop, even if you want them to but Logans whispering sweet words in your ear. Pushing out every bad thought for now.

“Logan,” You take a deep breath, letting Logan invade all your senses. Tobacco and whiskey.

“I need you.” He’s hesitant, not sure if it’s the right time.

“Please, I just need you.”

“Okay sweetheart, you have me.” He slowly rolls you over and lays you on your back.

He captures your lips into a kiss. His hips rolling slowly making you moan softly. His lips drift from your lips to the corner of your mouth to your cheek, trailing down. Each one so gentle, so full of love.

“You have this spot, righttt here.” Logan nibbles on your neck and you gasp when bites right at this spot that drives you wild. You melt into the mattress as he kisses over it.

“Always makes you relax.” He crawls lower, kissing down your body. He sits up on his knees and grabs a pillow to place under your back.

“I know you like to be slightly elevated because it means I can go just a little deeper.” He purrs as he takes his cock in his hands and gently rubs the tip of it along your folds. He slides two fingers into your cunt slowly.

“Know that my fingers drive you absolutely wild, that you need me to go slow to start.” You nod absentmindedly.

You never realized he picked up on all these things. His fingers start to slide in smoother, your cunt getting wetter for him. He leans down and takes a deep breath, groaning at the scent. He slips them out and licks them clean.

“Relax sweetheart,” He spreads your thighs and slips in all the way. Going slow but unrelenting, stretching you just how you like.

“So impatient, you never let me take it easy on you right? Just wanna be full all the time.” He leans down on his elbows as he rolls his hips nice and slow.

There will be no rough sex this time, this is about love. To show you that he truly does love you for you.

“Look at me,” He tilts your head so that your eyes meet. He smiles at the desperate look on your face.

“You can pretend it makes you all embarrassed, but I know you like eye contact.” He hums as he angles his hips so that he hits that perfect spot.

You jolt as pleasure rocks through your whole body but he keeps you under him. He’s slowly and methodically tearing you apart. Every touch, every word out of his mouth just makes it better. He knows. Of course he does.

“I love you Logan.” Your hands cup his face as you stare into his hazel eyes.

This time not filled with lust, but with a true deep love. He looks at you like you’re everything.

“I love you too.” He kisses you as he starts to pick up the pace of his thrusts. He smirks as he feels you start to squirm under him. You could never help it when you were close.

“Come on sweetheart, just let go.” He whispers in your ear.

His deep voice paired with the unrelenting feeling of his cock is all it takes. He holds you in his firm arms as a warm and wonderful tingling sensation runs through your whole body. A blissful smile on your face as you tilt your head back.

You feel your whole body relax as your mind calms. Logan tries to hide his growls as he fucks into you a little faster, until he’s coming hard and deep inside of you. He sighs in contentment as he stays inside of you. He taps your cheek lightly and you look up at him.

“I love you. No one else. Just you.” He moves to pull out but you whine. You need to be close to him right now. He chuckles as he slowly moves to your side. Spooning you tightly with his cock still deep inside of you.

“Can we talk?” You ask shyly.

“About what?” Logan grunts as he pulls you as close as he can get you.

“Anything?” He’s not much of a talker so he asks the questions instead.

How did you discover your powers? How did you meet wade? Just anything and everything and you tell him.

You talk for who knows how long. Staying wrapped in each other's arms. It helps, it really does. Logan listens, he really does listen. He wants to get to know you. He loves you. You rest your head on his chest, tracing shapes into his palm as you talk.

For the first time in a while your mind seems to settle. Ignoring any thought that may try and ruin your mood. It’s just you and him right now. There’s no looming figure of your alternate selves, not anymore.

Just you and Logan. Forever.

#logan howlett #logan howlett x reader #logan howlett smut #logan howlett x you #wolverine x reader #wolverine smut #worst!logan howlett x reader #worst!logan howlett smut

324 notes · View notes

darnell-la · 12 hours

Note

just imagine logan as a lone wolf who lives in a cabin in the middle of the forest and maybe the reader is just an ordinary girl (maybe shes a farmer or a gardener) that lives behind the forest and she needs to cross the path along the forest every day to go home, it goes down to rain and she gets lost, and finds logans cabin.

Then she looks at logan for the first time and its just love at first sight.

Well maybe lust, but also love.

note: Logan lives far from civilization in this story, so you can imagine when a young lady, the only person he sees daily, accidentally steps too far into his property wet and dirty. He can’t help but invite her in and pray for the best.

———

Y/n had been running through the woods for what felt like hours, eyes constantly getting rain in them as her shoes soaked. She could barely feel her feet, and her clothes were drenched.

“Oh my god,” y/n said, coming across Mister Howlett’s house, a man she’d never seen but had heard of. One part of her was happy seeing the house, knowing she had gone the right way, but the other half still hurt her head. She has ten or so minutes of running and no walking.

Y/n walked in front of the house, about to pass until an alarm went off, almost scaring her out of her shoes.

Lights flashed on the young lady as she heard rustling coming from inside the house. “Goddamnit,” she cussed under her breath, realizing she had stepped too far into the man’s property. She never does, but it’s raining hard tonight, and she can barely see.

“Who the fuck is on my property!?” A man asked, voice sounding a bit different than an average male. “I-I’m sorry, I-I always walk this way, I just walked a bit too far into the grass. I-It’s raining heavy out here,” she said, loud enough for him to hear her over the rain.

Logan walked past the frame of his front door, revealing the shotgun he had in hand. At first, she was terrified, but her mind instantly forgot about the weapon in his hands as her eyes scanned the rest of his body.

“I see,” the man said, scanning the young lady. He wore thick blue jeans, with a beat-up heavy belt, and his tank top was white and dirty. Y/n on the other hand had an amazing outfit. A fluffy skirt with an uptight crop top.

Of course, all of it was drenched, but the man had seen how good she looked earlier today, like every day. He never gets a good look at her, but the consistency of her going to work or whatever she did every day, seemed to rub Logan the right way.

“C’mon in — Let the weather cool down a bit,” Logan suggested, tone still unfriendly, but she understood she could’ve woken him up. “Oh, uh- Thank you,” she said as she approached his doorstep.

Once the two met eyes, it was almost like everything from then was in slow motion. The way they blinked, how slow they stepped, when he talked, telling her to take her shoes off for him to dry, and when he locked his front door.

“So — What do you do exactly?” Y/n asked as she shifted on his couch to look at him who was at the end of the same couch she was sitting on. He never sits on the long couch, but tonight, he felt like it.

“Chop wood, give to the community, fix up the land, and cook,” he said before taking a sip of the whiskey he had poured and offered her, but she told him she wasn’t a drinker.

“Sounds like a lot of work,” she said, making him chuckle. “Maybe for you, princess,” the man said with a look over his reading glasses before he looked back down at the newspaper he was reading.

“I work hard — Just in other ways,” she smiled. “And what is it you do, Bub?” The man asked, now placing the newspaper down to listen. He was interested. He didn’t know why, but he was.

“I write online books and sell clothes. These! I made myself. Hope I can dry them without it messing up,” she said as she tugged on her clothes. “You made that?” He asked, slightly surprised.

“Mhm hm — Took a while, but I got through,” she smiled. “Maybe I can dry it. I mean, I don’t think the rain’s gonna slow down anytime soon, so you can just stay here until they air dry in my basement,” he offered.

“You can take my bed. It’s clean, and my room has a lock if it makes you uncomfortable that a man’s in the house,”

Y/n stayed silent, thinking to herself. It didn’t seem like too much of a bad idea. She didn’t know the man, but he was a neighbor. She passes his house all the time, and she’s sure he’s seen her before.

“I’ll stay,” she said, making Logan huff out a breath he didn’t know he was keeping in. “Let’s head upstairs. It’s late, and I was going to close up down here anyway,”

Logan had shown y/n to his room, telling her she could make herself at home as he pulled out a shirt she could wear to bed.

“When you wake up, I’ll have your clothes in front of the door, alright?” He asked. “Okay, uh- I know I’m asking for a lot now, but is it possible to take a shower?” She asked.

Logan looked at her body, almost forgetting she wasn’t clean. Her legs had mud in them, her skin was wet, and her hair had branches in leaves in them. He had ignored all of that before. He hadn’t cared what she looked like. She looked pretty no matter what.

“Of course,” the man said before he went into his closet to grab a towel. “You can use my bedroom bathroom. It’s clean too,” he said, making sure she didn’t feel uncomfortable.

“Thank you for this all. I’ll repay you someday,” she looked up at him as he gave her a towel. “You don’t have to. I would never leave a pretty girl in the dark,” y/n giggled at his response, happy she knew he thought she was pretty.

“Hey, Bub, I almost forgot to give you some soap. Those in there are a bit strong smellin, so I’ve got some normal scents for ya,”

Logan knocked on the door bathroom door a few minutes after the had started the shower. “Oh my, thank you!” Y/n said as she hopped out of the tub and slightly opened the door, covering anything that could be seen.

“Of course, princ-“ the man had cut himself off as he looked behind her, seeing her figure in the mirror. “What's wrong?” Y/n asked as she followed his eyes, looking behind him before she let out a scream.

“Oh my god!” The main tried covering herself up as the door slowly opened. Logan wanted to look away, but he couldn’t stop himself from laughing at the younger woman.

“Oh my god, I’m so sorry,” Y/n said, covering as much as she could as she looked up at him. “It ain’t like Ian seen a naked woman before, Bub,” Logan said. Y/n let out a sigh, knowing a man who looked like him had definitely seen enough naked women to not feel disgusted or anything by her.

“Okay, okay,” she caught her breath, still covering herself up as Logan stood in the door frame, scanning her body. Her wet skin which wasn’t completely clean yet, made him feel a type of way. She made him feel a type of way, but he wanted to be respectful.

“I’ll leave you to it, princess,” Logan said before he went to turn around, but y/n stopped him. “Wait!” She said. “I-I need the soap,” she spoke low, making him realize he never exchanged it with her.

“Oh, shit- Yeah, yeah,” Logan said as he handed the bottle to the young lady. Y/n grabbed it, pulling at it so she could take a shower and ignore how embarrassed he was, but he kept a grip on the bottle.

He had no idea what he was doing, but he wanted to see what she would do.

“Is something wrong, Mister Howlett?” She asked. He loved the way his name rolled off of her lips. He never thought he’d love his last name more. What was this random girl doing to him?

“Yeah, it’s just- I don’t know,” he said, making her smile slightly. “I-If you wanna join me, you can. You know, to save water?” She suggested, surprising the man. She even surprised herself.

“You sure, Bub?” The man wanted to make sure he hadn’t been dreaming all night. “Yes-“ Before she could finish, the man threw the soap bottle to the side, grabbed the woman by her face, and pulled her into a rough passionate kiss, making sure his tongue slipped right in.

Y/n instantly maimed in his mouth at the aggression. He gave back a groan as he picked her up and placed her on the wooden sink counter.

Logan ripped his white tank top off before pulling his jeans down, revealing the hard-on he had since he saw her outside in the rain.

“Got me so fuckin’ hard, Bub. Don’t know why,” he said, making her giggle. “Maybe because I’m pretty?” She suggested, making him laugh. “That’s definitely one reason, Bub,”

Logan spat on his fingers before wiping the across her cunt which was already leaking. “Fuck,” y/n cussed under her breath as her body hitched.

“Mhm, potty mouth,” she said with a smile before he licked his fingers, tasting the mess he had just wiped across. “Fuck, you taste good,”

Logan put his cock in hand before lining up. When he pushed at her entrance, she instantly tightened around him. “Fuck,” Logan groaned, hands gripping the sides of her ass to pull her into him.

“Oh my god,” y/n cried out as his length buried inside of her completely. “Fuck, yes,” the man huffed out as he rested his head on her shoulder. “Ian gonna last,” he admitted, slightly embarrassed, but she loved it.

“Good — Makes me know you like me back,” she said. The man chuckled against her skin, moving his face until his slips were on her neck. “You gonna take it all?” He asked, kissing along her neck with a few nibbles.

“Yes, Mister Howlett,” she said. “C’mon, Bub — Ian that old,” he chuckled as he moved his hips, slowly thrusting into the woman to take in his good or felt, the way she gripped him.

“I like them old,” she admitted. “Oh, really? Is that why you’re so wet right now? Because you’re working my cock so fuckin’ much,” the man said in her ear, making her whine.

“Yes — Yes, that's why,” she admitted again. “Well luckin’ me,” Logan snapped his hips, getting ready to spill deep into her.

“P-Please cum in me,” she begged as she wrapped her legs around his waist, making sure he knew she really wanted it. She needed it.

“Wasn’t gonna do it any else were, Bub,”

209 notes · View notes

carringtonsgirl · 1 day

Text

BETTER

M.STURNIOLO

in which chris accuses his girlfriend of wanting to fuck his brother so she does just that.

warnings: cheating,matt with the belt,p in v,sextape,creampie.

nothing more that matt hated then his brother stealing the girl he was first interested in just to be a total dick to her.

matts brother chris was dating y/n. they have been together for five months now. matt was interested in the girl first but then his brother had to go and snatch her from him. she was never his in the first place but still.

the two brothers had met the girl from their triplet brother nick. the two had been friends since they moved to la. they met at a influencer party and have been inseparable ever since.

matt instantly started feeling something for the girl when she started to come around more often. her and him were somewhat close but not as close as her and nick.

chris knew that matt felt something for the girl and yet he still went after her just to end up treating her bad.

the first month or two chris and y/n were dating it was perfect,he treated her good and the sex was good but for the past two months now chris completely changed. he would constantly blow her off when she tried to make plans with him and he would constantly argue with her and accuse her of cheating(he was the one who was cheating.)the only time they weren’t arguing is when they were fucking which wasnt often.

right now the girl was hanging out with nick chris and matt. they were all in the car currently on their way back to the triplets house from going out to dinner.

the car ride back to their house was strangely quiet and all that could be heard was the music that chris was playing.

dinner went good until chris opened his mouth and went on a rampage about something the girl did that pissed him off. matts jaw was clenched the whole ride back to their house.

he didn’t understand why chris was dating her if he was gonna be mean to her all the time. she deserved better, and matt was better.

as soon as they got home matt pulled into the garage parking the car and chris instantly got out and stormed inside the house slamming the door behind him.

“im gonna go talk to him.” the girl said softly.

matt sighed as she got out going inside after chris. he wishes she would just leave him.

nick noticed that matt seemed like something was bothering him so he spoke up. “you okay?”nick asked.

“i just don’t understand chris.” matt said as he was clenching his jaw.

“i know i dont understand it either, i know hes our brother but he shouldnt be treating y/n like that.” nick said.

“its so fucking stupid.” matt said as he got out of the car walking inside.

all that could be heard when walking into the house was chris yelling along with a slam of a door.

“i dont understand why you act so fucking perfect y/n! you piss me the fuck off so much and you wonder why i treat you the way i fucking do!” chris yelled.

the girl stood there not saying a word to him because she knew if she did he would be getting a reaction out of her and she didnt want him to think he has that control over her but she decided to end up speaking up for herself.

“chris i dont understand what your problem is” she said calmly.

“you dont understand what MY PROBLEM is? have you seen yourself have you seen the fucking way you look at matt!?” chris said rolling his eyes.

“what way do i look at him chris? hes a FRIEND”she said.

“no y/n clearly hes more than that!” chris yelled.

“what the fuck ever im not gonna sit here and argue with you all because your jealous of your own brother.” she said as she started to walk out the room.

“whatever you’re probably just gonna go fuck matt or something.” chris said.

“maybe i fucking will.” she said as she walked out of his room.

‧˚♡彡

matt was sitting on the living room when he saw the girl walking up the steps from chris’ room.

“hey. you okay?” he asked.

she nodded as she came over and sat down on the couch a inch or two apart from him.

“chris is just going on a big rampage on how apparently i wanna fuck you.” the girl said.

matts face lit up with amusement as he heard the words that came out of her mouth but suddenly a small smirk came onto his face.

“well do you?” he asked as he made eye contact with her.

“matt..im with your brother.” she said looking at him.

“i know baby but i promise i could fuck you so much better then he can.” matt said as he scooted closer to her.

as much as the girl denied it she often found herself thinking how it would be like to fuck matt. she would get herself off sometimes while thinking about his head inbetween her thighs or him pounding into her from behind.

“but only if you let me.” matt said as he was now inches away from her face.

the girl thought about it for a second she knew it was wrong to do chris that way but she couldnt help but want matt to be deep inside of her.

“please.”she said as she smashed her lips onto his kissing him softly.

matt kissed her back as he pulled her onto his lap wrapping his hands around her waist.

“thats all you had to say baby.” matt said as he held her as he stood up walking to his room.

matt carefully shut the door behind him making sure to lock it before placing her down on the bed.

he slid off her shirt then matt took his shirt off and hovered back over the girl kissing her softly.

the kiss instantly grew heated as matt was grinding his bulge against the girls aching core causing her to whimper into his mouth as her hands were tangled in his hair.

matt reached his hand down sliding it underneath her skirt dipping his hand into her panties feeling her aching wet cunt.

matt pulled away from the kiss and whispered into the girls ear. “so wet just f’me huh?” matt said causing her to whimper as he started to rub her clit.

“gonna make you feel so good baby.” he said as he started to kiss on her neck.

she whimpered as he slipped two of his fingers into her wet cunt and thrusting them into her at a fast pace.

he grabbed her throat with his freehand kissing her roughly as he was fingering her as she was moaning into his mouth.

he suddenly pulled out his fingers and bent her over the bed slipping her panties and skirt off of her.

he unbuckles his pants sliding off the belt and grabbing her wrists and tying them together with his belt.

he slid off his pants and grabbed her pulling her to the edge of the bed and slamming into her.

he thrusted into her at a fast pace as she was moaning loudly. he chuckled at how quick she became a mess.

“yeah? you like going dumb on your boyfriends brothers cock huh?” he groaned as he slapped her ass.

“mhmmmmm” she moaned out not being able to form sentences because all she could think about was his cock fucking her dumb.

“such a fucking whore, might have to call chris so he can hear how much of a whore his girlfriend is for my cock.” matt said as he reached to grab his phone.

he smirked as he clicked on his brothers name calling him.

[PHONE CALL]

“what matt”

“your girlfriend is such a good fuck”

“matt dont fucking play with me.”

“im not dont you hear how dumb she is right now?”

“you wouldn’t fucking do me like that”

“what? you mad i can dick her down better then you can.”

“oh fuck matt right there”

“you’re just fucking some random y/n went back to her house because we argued”

“whatever you say buddy”

matt ended the call with a satisfied smirk.his thrusts never faltering as he continued to pound into her. the girl was moaning uncontrollably, her body responding to every move he made.

“see, baby? even chris heard how i can fuck you better.” matt whispered against her ear, his voice dripping with arrogance and lust.

she could only nod, her mind too clouded with pleasure to form any coherent words. matts pace quickened, his grip on her hips tightening as he brought them both closer to the edge.

“gonna cum for me baby? cum all over my cock?” matt growled his own release approaching fast as he took the belt off of her wrists.

the girl could only moan in response.her body trembling as she felt the intense pleasure build up inside her. matts pace became relentless driving her closer and closer to the edge.

"thats it baby. cum all over my dick youve been such a good girl.”matt said as he grabbed the belt spanking her with it a few times.

with one final thrust, the girl cried out, her body convulsing as she reached her peak. the sensation was overwhelming, waves of pleasure crashing over her.

matt followed soon after groaning deeply as he released inside her. his grip on her hips tightening momentarily.

he felt himself cumming deep inside of her as he grabbed his phone recording him slowly pulling out of her with the mixture of their cum oozing out.

he leaned against her as he put his phone in her face, showing how fucked out she was. swollen lips, hair stuck to her face from sweating looking all fucked out.

“i fuck you better then chris huh baby?” he smirked as she nodded in response.

“words baby.” he said.

“you fuck me so much better then chris” she said all fucked out.

with that he ended the video clicking on his brothers contact name.

matt: *one attachment sent*

matt: all fucked out by me.

chris: fuck you matt.

matt: maybe if you treated her right she wouldnt of done this but clearly im better.

he smirked as he laid beside the girl pulling her into his arms. he started rubbing on her body as he kissed her forehead.

he cuddled her til they both fell asleep, not knowing that chris was about to come and rudely awake them.

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2tarbell · 1 day

Note

vanilla birthday cake — send some dialogue 4 a short drabble with rafe + any of my !readers

mean!rafe + crybaby!reader “i don’t wanna know”

HAKSJSKSJKS

MEAN!RAFE + CRYBABY!READER ⋆.˚ ᡣ𐭩 .𖥔˚

participate in my bday celebration!!!

rafe had had just about enough. he wasn’t very patient to begin with but he was trying to be better — for her.

his poor little girlfriend that had a never ending supply of sorrow and tears. normally, around him, she was content as could be. and he was happy to indulge her and be the one to soothe her when external factors hurt her sensitive heart.

but she just wouldn’t stop crying.

today, she had to have set a new record. whimpering away next to him while rafe tried to get some work done on his computer. she knew better than to interrupt him when he was working, but crybaby just needed some attention. some love.

what if he was all quiet ‘cause he realized how annoying she was? what if—

“okay, what’s a-matter?”

her watery eyes flickered up to his deep blue and thundering ones.

rafe stared at her impatienty — fingers poised as if about to start typing. but his eyes held a question in them. an intensity that makes crybaby shrink into herself, eyes shifting and babbling for an answer while her shaky hands played with the buttons on her shirt.

“wha—? oh, um, s’nothing…”

not a good liar, but even worse at holding eye contact. rafe huffed and closed the laptop abruptly. he spread his legs further, setting the device somewhere beside him. she could be so difficult sometimes.

“kid, you’re over there, sniffin’ and shit — what’s the problem?” his voice was gruff and low, but so familiar and comforting in its own way. running a hand over his buzzed head in a way that always sent her heart racing.

“well, uh, i— i jus’— um…” the stuttered words came out clumsily, not a coherent thought in her head as she stared wide eyed at him. tears began to well anew.

“okay, okay— shut up. i don’t wanna know anymore, jus’— c’mere.”

god, she looked dumb with that look on her face. all frozen and tense as he tries to coax her closer. like a deer and a hunter.

rafe tilts his head to the side, a small smirk settling on his lips. he sees the moment she relaxes; eyes still wet and lip still trembling but she’s scooting closer nonetheless.

he scoops crybaby into his lap, strong arms circling her and pulling her into his chest. rafe sighs like it’s hard work — but the concerned furrow of his brow says otherwise.

she’s still sniffing, nuzzling her face further and further into his chest as she straddles him. trying to disappear fully into his warmth and affection. it’s like just being in his arms sends her into a daze. it’s made worse by his hand pulling her chin up, forcing their eyes to meet.

“what’s wrong, baby?”

her rafe. that soft mumble only she’s privy to. his gentleness entirely reserved for her, for her moments of need. yet, she loves when he’s mean to her — in that dirty, knowing way he is. when her heart just feels so heavy and she doesn’t wanna think anymore. she craves that fuzziness only he can make her feel, a warmth pooling in her underwear. she needs it.

her voice is meek and barely audible when she huffs, “i jus’— today was so—”

rafe rolls his eyes, but tugs her closer. pressing firm kisses to her hairline and letting her ramble on about all the hard things she went through. she doesn’t register his wandering hands. it’s only when his fingertips are breaching her lace panties when she finally notices how he’s pushed her skirt up.

“hmf— rafey—”

her slickness makes a groan vibrate through his chest, fingers pressing forward until he’s prodding at that spongey spot just right. crybaby is hiccuping and sniffling again — eyes pitifully squeezed shut from the intrusion.

“shuddap, let daddy do this, yeah? getchu to stop whinin’ for once.”

based off this little thing i wrote!!!

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starboye · 2 days

Text

starring: simon "ghost" riley x male reader

request: Hey OP saw that you wanted some requests for Ghost and I was wondering if you could write some Ghost x male reader 🤭🤭 where they’re roommates (could be civilian AU or military) who both claim to be “straight” but are so gay for each other. I kind of make this opened ended there’s like zero Ghost x male reader stuff 😭😭

warnings: smut, some fluff i think, cursing, pervert!simon, pervert!reader, civillian!au, jerking off, fingering, making out

you and simon ended up as roommates after learning that he had nowhere to stay after getting of his mission and now every day is a struggle to stop yourself from pouncing on the man, you and him both claimed to be straight, casually bringing it up while on a mission with the 141 team but your actions tell a different story, longing glances and drawn out touches says that you both like each other, but both of you don't know that about one other, to sure that the other is strictly straight and doesn't hold any feelings.

the dynamic is kind of simple around the apartment, you usually cook and clean while simon is out working and he'd do the same when you're out, but recently simon has wanted to take the role of cleaning more often, that was a lie though he hated cleaning but when he realized he could use it for his own perverted nature he was eager to do it more, when doing laundry he'd steal a pair of your used underwear just to sniff it and jerk off with it.

fucking into his fist in the dead of night when he thinks you're sleep, using your underwear as a sort of gag to capture his deep groans, the imagination of fucking you senseless flooding his mind over and over till he came with choked back grunts that you heard unbeknownst to him, you both sitting on the couch watching tv the next morning as if he didn't imagine fucking you till you moaned every letter of his name.

and you well you weren't nearly any better than him, always sneaking into his room when he was at work to lay in his bed, sniffing whatever scent of him was left on his pillows and wrapping yourself in his blankets to then finger yourself to the thoughts of him using you like a cum rag, filling you up over and over till you cant think, and you knew that your fingers could never match up to what simon probably felt like but you wanted to know so bad.

you both wanted each other so badly but never knew if the other wanted it to, till one fateful night where you were both chilling in the kitchen cooking up some dinner when you turned around and bumped into simon, his hands quickly moving to hold your waist so you don't fall and you both stood there for some time, just staring into each others eyes "oh uh sorry" he stuttered releasing his grip on you and baking up "don't be" you quickly say wrapping your arms around his neck to kiss the man.

you having to stand on your toes just to reach his mouth with yours and with that you pulled back, a couple more seconds of silence following before he's picking you up and taking you to his room, and my god was that night good, you were both living out your fantasies of each other simon cumming over and over again till he was milked dry and you ending up a messy and incoherent mess splayed on his bed.

after that it was like to rabbits fucking constantly, over and over, day and night or even morning time by this point the neighbors were begging you guys to calm it down but that still didn't stop you guys, to drunk off one another love to even think of stopping, now here you were making out on the kitchen counter with simon after trying to bake desserts like you too didn't fuck that morning, after simon came home from work, and before dinner seems like tonight's gonna be a loud one.

taglist:@mailmango@spermeboy@ghostking4m@gayaristocrat@addictedtomalepits@staarb0y@crispysoup318@its-ares@gargoylesworld09@kadenvatsune@fuckshft

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moonstruckme · 1 day

Note

omg mae bae happy bday and congrats on 7k wowie! would you do apple pie, ¹⁰⁾ a six pack of beer and an apology, with steve harrington? <3

Thank you lovely <3

cw: alcohol, spin the bottle

Steve Harrington x fem!reader ♡ 1.2k words

Steve finds you in the kitchen. You’ve procured a pair of scissors from somewhere, and you’re snipping apart those plastic rings that hold together six-packs. You glance up as he comes in but look away quickly, picking another up off the counter.

“Turtles strangle themselves on these things,” you say. You snip a corner, the sound short and crisp. “I don’t know why we still use them.”

Steve honestly doesn’t think much about sea animals when he’s drinking a beer, but he wants to agree with you. “Me neither.”

“It’s like, we’re supposed to be this advanced society. Can’t we come up with something that doesn’t kill turtles?”

“Mhm. Probably.”

“I just think it’s dumb.” You push out a breath. It sounds frustrated, but Steve knows you well. You’re more stressed than angry. He’s not patient enough to wait for you to get around to telling him that yourself.

“What’re you doing in here?” he asks.

You look up at him again. Shrug. “I was sick of being out there.”

“You wanna go home?”

“Do you?”

It’s a fair thing to ask. Steve’s your ride, so leaving these things is usually a joint decision. But he feels like the question is pointed. “Do you think I wanna go home?”

“I don’t know.” Some of the stress is seeping into your voice now, your terseness taking on a new hue. “You seemed mad.”

He was mad (is mad?). He just hasn’t figured out if it’s fair for him to be, yet, so he wasn’t planning on making it your business. He thought that would be the nice thing to do, but you don’t seem to appreciate being left out of the loop.

“Do I seem mad now?” he asks.

You cut through the last plastic ring with a harsh snap. “Christ, Steve, I don’t know. Why are you asking me all this?”

“I’m sorry,” he says, and though it’s automatic he does mean it. “I’m not trying to be mad at you.”

Your eyes meet his, crushed before you can hide it. “But you are.”

“Not—” He sighs, jamming his thumb against his brow bone. It’s an anxious habit, a preventative measure against potential headaches. “Not really. Not in a way that’s important.”

“I think it’s important anytime you’re mad at me,” you say. Your voice has softened and smalled. Steve feels like his guts are in knots. He wants to make an excuse, to explain—It’s not that I’m actually mad at you. I haven’t decided if I should be. So we’re all good, right? For now, I mean. At least until I decide.—but before he get the chance to further fuck things up you ask, “Can you tell me what you’re mad about?”

Steve drops his hand to look at you. “You really don’t know?”

You wince, and he thinks you do know. “I didn’t mean for that to happen. I’m sorry.”

He feels his brows furrow. “For what to happen?”

“For it to land on you.”

“That’s not…it’s spin the bottle. You can’t control who it lands on. That’s the point.”

You shake your head, almost to yourself. Your fingers are fiddling with the ends of your sleeves. “I shouldn’t have even played. I’m sorry, I wouldn’t have if I’d known that was gonna happen.”

“What do you keep apologizing for?” Some accidental anger makes its way into Steve’s tone. “Who did you want to kiss?”

You blink. “No one.”

“Nobody plays spin the bottle unless they want to kiss someone.”

“Well, I guess I changed my mind.”

“Why?”

“Because!” Your voice rises, and you lower it just as quickly. You both glance to the kitchen entryway like the calvary is going to come force you back to that stupid party just because you almost yelled. “Because,” you say, quieter, “it was weird.”

Steve forgets to even try to keep his face in check. He feels it twist with hurt. “It was?”

“Yes! Everyone was looking at us, and it was like a game—it was a game.” You pull your sleeves over your hands, shoulders winding up tight. “I guess I just feel like that sort of thing should be private.”

Awareness dawns upon him like a slow sunrise. Steve has never been known for his book smarts, but he’s not stupid. He knows what it feels like to be liked. He’s just never known what it felt like to be liked by you.

A little laugh of disbelief stumbles out of him. “You said ‘ew.’”

You’d been tipsier and fizzy with excitement when the game had started. Smiling and laughing at everything, your giddiness palpable. When your turn had come, Steve had watched you carefully to see if your eyes did that hopeful flit to someone in the circle, but all your concentration had been on the bottle, your smile slipping just a little as it spun. And landed on him.

Ew, you laughed. No, c’mon, you can’t make us.

That’s the game, Marcy had reminded you gleefully. As a resister, you now had the attention of most of the circle. It wasn’t Steve’s first time playing. He knew how it went.

Relax. He’d forced a smile, getting onto his hands and knees to meet you in the middle. It’ll be quick. Not too disgusting.

You’d made a face of humorous unwillingness, your eyes darting around the group as if seeking rescue. Fine, you relented. If it’s not a big deal to you, it’s not to me.

Steve had done this more than once, but it felt especially awkward with you. Crawling into the middle of a circle of spectators, your hand knocking the bottle so that it clinked and rolled. True to his promise, he kept it brief, a short, painless press of his lips. Hardly enough to feel the impression of yours before you were both pulling away, Steve silent and you spewing a string of nervous giggles.

You’d left before it was Steve’s turn to spin.

Now you seem near to ripping the sleeves of your shirt, the material stretched over your curled fingers as you worry your lip. You’re back to not looking at him. “I didn’t mean ‘ew’ at you.”

It had sure sounded like it. “Then what did you mean?”

“I meant it, like, I didn’t like how things were going.” You laugh at yourself, the sound stymied. “Like ew, we have to kiss in front of everyone, or ew, Chris is watching us way too intently.”

Steve makes a face. “He was?”

“Is that what you’re mad about?” Something seems to dawn upon you now, too, your expression clearing. “That I said that?”

He looks at you for a second. “Well, it sounds stupid when you say it out loud.”

“No it doesn’t,” you say, but you look to be fighting a grin. “I’m sorry, it’s not stupid. I didn’t mean to be mean.”

“It’s okay,” he says genuinely.

You shake your head. “I wasn’t thinking. But that’s not what I meant.”

Steve knows this now, but he teases you anyway. “Are you sure about that?”

You hesitate only half a second before you catch onto what he’s doing. Your smile starts to win. “I’m sure.”

“Kissing me doesn’t disgust you?”

“No.” Your voice is bashful now, but your eyes are steady on his as you take a step toward him.

The knots in Steve’s guts aren’t getting any looser, though there’s a different kind of commotion going on there now. “I don’t know if I believe you.”

You reach for each other at the same time, his hands on your ribs and yours on either side of his face, and this time there’s no glass bottles to knock or rules to adhere to or spectators to appease. This kiss isn’t short.

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vnti-vntiety-recs · 17 hours

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

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