startseeingstars

[startseeingstars]

💞

From Kate’s IG story x

[startseeingstars]

I love a man in pink 🫦

From Kate’s IG story x

[startseeingstars]

Fun fact: Dugongs mate for life 🥹

From Kate’s IG story x

[startseeingstars]

Seriously what the actual FUCK

From Kate’s IG story x

[startseeingstars]

Speechless.

From Kate’s IG x

[startseeingstars]

😵‍💫

From Kate’s IG story x

[startseeingstars]

Friends, we’ve been blessed with more fire daddy. 🔥

From Kate’s IG story x

[startseeingstars]

Smoke & Lights - Marcus (Swarm)

CH04 🎶 Too Sweet - Hozier 🎶

The soft light of the morning filters through the blinds, casting a gentle glow across the room. I stir, the remnants of sleep still clinging to me as I shift under the covers, only to freeze when I hear a familiar sound from the kitchen. The faint sizzle of something cooking, followed by the soft clink of utensils against plates, sends a wave of warmth through me and I remember I’m with Marcus.

When I manage to peel my eyes open, my gaze lands on Marcus, standing in the kitchen, his sculpted physique on full display. He’s naked, the muscles in his back and shoulders flexing as he moves around the stove. For a moment, I forget how to breathe.

There’s something effortlessly captivating about him. The way his broad shoulders taper down to a slim waist, the subtle tension in his body as he works—he moves with the confidence of someone completely at ease in their own skin. And for a moment, I envy him. All that confidence from last night has disappeared in me, along with the alcohol.

I lean back against the pillows, still trying to shake off the remnants of sleep. But my thoughts keep drifting back to last night—the warmth, the chemistry, the way he made me feel like I was the only person in the room. It was… intense, and unforgettable.

After a few moments, Marcus appears at the edge of the bed, a bowl of fresh strawberries in hand, his smile as wide as ever. “Strawberry?” He offers, his voice bright and light, the enthusiasm practically bouncing off him.

I glance down at the bowl of strawberries and stifle a laugh by biting my lip. Heat floods my cheeks as I notice his impressive member pressed against the glass bowl.

“Um, sure,” I whisper, unable to help the amused smile from creeping across my face.

He climbs onto the bed beside me, propping himself up on one arm. I can’t help but smile, taking the fruit from him, and then glancing up at him, still processing the sight of his bare body in such close proximity. I’m not sure I could ever get used to it. “You really know how to spoil a girl,” I say, voice tinged with a mix of awe and amusement.

Marcus grins, clearly not even a little shy. “I try.” He shrugs a little.

I feel the heat rise to my cheeks, hyper-aware of my lack of clothing beneath the plush comforter. Without thinking, I pull the covers up a little higher, as if they could shield me from Marcus’s gaze. He notices, tilting his head slightly, a flicker of curiosity crossing his face.

“What’s on your mind?” He asks sweetly, his voice soft as he bites into another strawberry, his eyes never leaving mine.

“Nothing,” I reply quickly, though the lightness in my tone wasn’t convincing. His brows furrow, and his lips quirk into a half-smile.

“Liar,” he teases gently, reaching out to graze my arm with the back of his fingers. “C’mon, tell me.”

I draw in a shaky breath, forcing a laugh that feels a little too hollow. “It’s nothing,” I repeat, avoiding his eyes. “I’m just… admiring your confidence.” I smile, hoping to brush it off, but the words make his brows shoot up in surprise.

“Confidence?” He echoes, setting the strawberry aside. “I can cover up if you want,” he offers, reaching for the corner of a sheet with a mischievous grin.

I can’t help but laugh, shaking my head. “And ruin my view? Absolutely not,” I giggle, my voice playful despite the vulnerability bubbling beneath the surface.

His smile softens, and for a moment, silence stretches between us. Then, he shifts closer, his expression turning serious but tender. “You know you’re beautiful, right?” His tone is light, but his eyes search mine for any trace of disbelief.

The blush on my cheeks deepens, and I drop my gaze. “Yeah, but—”

“Nope,” he interrupts, grinning as he sets the bowl of strawberries on the nightstand. In one swift motion, he pulls back the covers, revealing my body. “This,” he murmurs, his voice warm and unwavering as he leans down to press a soft kiss to my lips, “is perfect.”

Before I can protest or retreat into self-doubt, he slides beside me, wrapping me in his arms and pulling me close. His skin is warm against mine, his touch grounding and gentle.

I can’t help but giggle at his playfully sweet determination. “Got it?” He murmurs, his tone more serious this time as he meets my eyes.

I smile, my heart swelling as I nod softly in agreement. The confirmation seems to ease something in him, and for a moment, we both stay like that, wrapped in each other.

He hands me a strawberry and as I chew the sweet fruit, I feel the weight of last night settle in my chest, but there is no regret. It had been exactly what I needed, no strings, no expectations. But as I watch Marcus, lying here with his easy smile and upbeat energy, I can’t shake the small nagging worry in the back of my mind.

His tone, his brightness—it all feels so… hopeful. And that’s the part that makes me hesitate. He’s kind, sweet, and clearly, he’s the type to wear his heart on his sleeve. Just like me.

His playfulness makes it seem like everything is simple and carefree. But for me, it isn’t that easy. I’m not sure that I’m ready for what might come next, especially not after everything I’ve been through recently with Vince. I know it would be all too easy to fall under whatever spell Marcus was casting on me, so I take a deep breath and sit up.

I clear my throat, trying to shift the focus back onto something else, hoping to keep things light. “So, you cook breakfast often?” I ask lamely, a half-smile playing on my lips.

Marcus sits up, propping himself up on one elbow as he meets my gaze. His eyes are warm, a soft intensity to them that makes me realise how much more he’s paying attention than I’ve given him credit for. “Only when I feel like I’ve got someone worth cooking for,” He says, his voice smooth and light, though there’s something deeper beneath the surface.

I look away, uncertain for a moment, but when I glanced back at him, he’s still watching me with that same gentle curiosity. It tugs at my heart— both with guilt, and with want.

Still wrapped in his sheets, I take a bite of the pancakes he made, the warm sweetness of them matching the comfortable vibe of the morning. They’re fluffy, perfectly golden brown, and drizzled with syrup and berries—exactly what anyone needs to start the day. It’s impossible not to enjoy them, even though a small part of me can’t shake the feeling that this might be too good to be true.

After finishing the plate, I stand up and feel Marcus’s eyes on me as I walk around the apartment. He threw on a simple shirt, one that fit him just right, and now, he’s offering me a different one—a soft, oversized t-shirt, his scent still lingering on it.

“Here,” he says, handing it to me with a grin. “You can borrow it.”

I smile and take the shirt, pulling it over my head, feeling the fabric drape comfortably over my body. As I do, Marcus makes a soft sound of approval, his eyes briefly running over me. The compliment wasn’t spoken, but it’s clear in the way he looks at me, and it’s difficult not to blush again. Damn him.

When we’re dressed, he slides off the couch and stands up. “So, movie?” He asks casually, tone relaxed. “Or do you have other plans?”

I hesitate for a moment, running my fingers through my hair, trying to ignore the tension that had crept in. Last night had been fun, no doubt about it, but it’s starting to feel like we’re slipping into deeper waters than I’m ready for.

“I should really get home to Rusty,” I say with a soft sigh, fingers playing with the hem of the t-shirt. “I’ve been out all night, and he’ll probably be wondering where I am.”

Marcus nods, a thoughtful expression on his face. “Of course. I can drive you,” he says, his voice steady and warm.

I hesitate. It isn’t that I don’t trust him, but I haven’t exactly figured out what this is—whatever this is—between us. Still, I don’t want to come off rude. And I appreciate the offer.

“Alright,” I finally say, giving him a small smile. “Thanks.”

The car ride is quiet, but it isn’t uncomfortable. The hum of the engine and the occasional swipe of the wipers against the windshield fill the space. My mind wanders as I glance at him from time to time, wondering if I’m simply overthinking things. He seems perfectly at ease, but I can’t shake the nagging feeling that I might have made things a little more complicated than they needed to be.

When he pulls up to my house, I finally speak up, voice a little quieter than usual. “I just… I hope I didn’t come on too strong last night,” I say, biting my lip as I glance over at him. “I really enjoyed it, but… I guess I just don’t want you to think I’m looking for something serious right now.”

Marcus’s gaze flickers to me, soft and reassuring. His fingers drum lightly on the steering wheel as he processes my words.

“It’s fine,” he says, his tone warm and understanding. “I’m glad you were up for it. Honestly, I had an amazing time.” His smile is genuine, and for a moment, his eyes soften as he looks at me. “You don’t need to worry about anything. We’re just two people enjoying each other’s company, no pressure.”

I breathe a little easier at his words, the tension in my chest easing. There’s instant relief in hearing him say that—it was exactly what I needed to hear, even if I’m not sure what comes next.

“Thanks,” I murmur softly. “I really needed that.”

He nods, his smile still in place. “No problem. Just… whenever you’re ready for more, I’m here.”

I chuckle lightly, feeling the heat rise in my cheeks. I hate how effortlessly he pulls this reaction out of me, but it’s hard not to love it. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

With a final glance, he nods once more and reaches over to open the door for you. “Give Rusty a big pat from me,” he says, his voice carrying an affectionate tone. “I’ll see you around.”

I step out of the car, pausing for a moment before I turn to wave. As I walked towards home, I can’t help but feel a little lighter, a little more at ease. I’m not sure what the future holds, but for now, I'm exactly where I need to be.

xxx 🎶 Something Good Can Work - Two Door Cinema Club 🎶 xxx

A few days have passed since the morning at Marcus’s apartment, and while we haven’t spoken much since, my mind often drifts back to him. The casual messages, the lighthearted exchanges, and that unmistakable chemistry still lingers in the back of my thoughts.

But today, as I walk Rusty past the cafe we pass almost every day, I’m just focused on the cool morning air and getting my fur baby some exercise.

As we near the entrance of the small, trendy cafe, I’m surprised to see Marcus standing near the window, wallet in his hand. His gaze immediately lands on me, and I catch a flicker of recognition in his eyes. I can’t help but smile, feeling an unexpected rush of warmth at seeing him again.

“Hey,” he calls out with a grin, walking toward us. Rusty, as always, is the first to react, his tail wagging furiously as he pulls me closer to Marcus. It’s strange, because Rusty has always been skittish around men, never really warming up to any. Yet, for some reason, he seems to take an immediate liking to Marcus.

“Looks like Rusty’s got a thing for you,” I laugh, bending down to let Rusty greet him with a happy bark.

Marcus chuckles, reaching down to give the dog some attention. “I guess I’m just a dog person,” he shrugs, his eyes lighting up as Rusty nuzzles his hand. “He’s a good boy.” He says to him more than me.

“You’ve got him wrapped around your finger,” I note with a smile, standing back up. “He usually doesn’t like guys. He never warmed up to my ex either.”

Marcus gives me a knowing look. “Maybe I’m just special,” he teases. I grin back at him.

Marcus turns toward the cafe, motioning with his head. “How about I buy you a coffee? And something for this big ball of fluff too?”

I raise an eyebrow. “You’re spoiling him already?”

“Just making up for lost time,” he says with a smirk. “Trust me, he deserves it.”

“Can’t argue with that,” I agree, following him inside the cafe.

Marcus orders two coffees, one for me and one for himself, along with a small cup of whipped cream for Rusty—a little “puppuccino.” I shake your head, half-amused, as we watch the barista prepare it with a bit of whipped cream and a dog biscuit on top.

As we settle at a small table by the window outside, Rusty sits by my feet, happily licking his treat.

“So, what do you do for work?” I ask, taking a sip of the delicious caramel coffee. I’ve been curious for a while now, and this feels like a good moment to ask.

“I’m a freelance photographer,” Marcus replies, his tone light but confident. “Weddings, portraits, events—pretty much anything that pays the bills.”

“Fancy,” I tease, leaning back in your chair. “So, what’s the weirdest thing you’ve been hired to photograph?”

He chuckles, his lips curving into a grin. “Weirdest? That’s a tough one. Probably the couple that wanted photos of themselves dressed as woodland creatures. Full-on costumes, in a forest. They were dead serious about it.”

I almost spit out my mouthful of coffee. “No way.”

“Way,” he says, smirking. “The groom was a fox, and the bride was… I think a deer? Anyway, they insisted on this super dramatic shot where they were ‘chasing’ each other through the trees.”

“Oh my god,” I laugh, covering my mouth. “Did you actually pull it off?”

“Of course,” he says, feigning offence. “I’m a professional. The photos turned out great, even if I was dying inside the whole time.”

Shaking my head, I smile at him. “Okay, I admit it. That sounds… flexible.”

He raises an eyebrow at me. “Flexible?” He presses.

“Yeah, you know,” I start, shrugging. “Unpredictable. But in a fun way.”

He leans forward slightly, his eyes sparkling with amusement. “I’ll take that as a compliment. But yeah, it has its ups and downs. Some days are amazing, others… not so much. Still, I get to travel a little, meet people, and have some creative freedom.”

“That’s awesome,” I say honestly. “Not something I could do, though.”

“Why not?” He asks, tilting his head curiously.

I hesitate, then shrug. “I don’t know. I think I’d be too afraid of, like, messing up someone’s big day or something. That’s a lot of pressure.” I laugh a little and sip at my drink.

“Maybe,” he says, his tone playful. “But I think you could do anything if you set your mind to it.”

I feel a slight blush rise to my cheeks, but I quickly cover it with a small laugh. “Flattery will get you nowhere, Marcus.”

“Noted,” he says, grinning—like we haven’t already fucked.

There’s a comfortable pause before he leans back in his chair, studying me for a moment. “I never asked,” he starts, his voice softer now. “Are you from Houston? I don’t hear an accent.”

“Phoenix,” I tell him, setting the coffee down. “Born and raised.”

“Phoenix,” he repeats thoughtfully. “That’s cool. Hot, though, right?”

I smirk. “Hot is an understatement. Summers feel like you’re living in a toaster.”

He laughs. “I’m originally from… well, everywhere, really.”

I tilt my head, intrigued. “Everywhere?”

“Military brat,” he explains, running a hand through his hair. I briefly recall him mentioning that the other night. Though my focus had been solely on his rock solid abs. Which, by the way, still creates that little tingly feeling in my stomach, just knowing they’re there, hiding beneath his god forsaken shirt. “My dad was stationed all over the place. Wisconsin, Indiana, Ohio… you name it.”

“Wow,” I say, brows lifting. “That must’ve been tough—constantly moving around.”

“It was,” He admits with a small shrug. “But you get used to it. And in a weird way, it’s kind of cool. You end up carrying little pieces of all those places with you.”

I nod, feeling a quiet respect for the way he speaks about it. Suddenly, I’m grinning and he looks at me curiously. “It just explains why your apartment is so neat.” I shrug, thinking about the comparison to yours which had a much more lived in and relaxed feel to it.

He chuckles and nods. “I guess old habits die hard, huh?”

Rusty, now finished with his treat, rests his head on my lap, occasionally glancing up at Marcus like he’s part of our little group.

xxx 🎶 Got Me Started - Troye Sivan 🎶 xxx

As we walk side by side through the quiet streets, Rusty happily trotting ahead, Marcus glances over at me. “You sure you don’t mind me walking you home?”

I shrug with a small smile. “Not at all. You’re good company, and Rusty seems to approve.”

“High praise,” he teases, grinning. “I’ll take it.”

When we reach home, I hesitate for a moment before turning to him. “Do you, uh, want to come in? I mean, since you’re here already.”

Marcus raises an eyebrow, his lips twitching into a half-smile. “Sure. If you’re okay with it.”

Inside, Rusty settles down in his favourite spot, and I toss my keys on the counter. Marcus wanders into the living room, taking in the space. His eyes land on the framed photos on the wall, his brow furrowing slightly.

“Is this your mom?” He asks, pointing to a vibrant picture of a woman with an easy smile and a flowing dress, standing on a beach at sunset.

I nod, a fond smile tugging at my lips. “Yep. That’s her. She’s off exploring Malaysia right now, actually.”

“Malaysia?” He repeats, his tone intrigued.

“She’s kind of a free spirit.” I explain, leaning against the back of the couch. “Spiritual, loves to travel, super into yoga and mindfulness. She’s my best friend, honestly. We’re really close.”

Marcus turns to look at me, his expression softening. “That’s… nice. Rare, but nice. You’re lucky to have that.”

I shrug, a little self-conscious. “I know. She’s always been there for me, no matter what. I can’t imagine not having her around.”

He nods thoughtfully, his gaze shifting back to the photos. “My parents and I aren’t… we’re not exactly close.”

I tilt my head, curiosity sparking. “Really?”

He sighs, running a hand through his hair as he sits on the edge of the couch. “Yeah. My dad was always gone with work, and when he was around, it was… tense. My mom kind of kept her distance too. It’s just the way it was. I mean, they’re fine people, I guess, but we never really connected.”

“I’m sorry,” I say softly, sitting down beside him. My heart breaks just a little. I didn’t know my Dad, but I couldn’t care less. My mom had been more than enough, played the part of both roles and more. It’s sad realising that others don’t have that same connection with their own parents.

“It’s okay,” he replies with a small smile. “I’ve got a few good friends, but no one I’d call family. You make do, you know?”

I nod, the warmth of his honesty settling over me. “What about college? Did you meet anyone there?”

“Some,” he says. “I studied photography and arts at UC. It was a good program, and I loved it, but I wasn’t exactly the ‘join a frat’ kind of guy.”

I laugh at the image of him in a fraternity. “Yeah, I can’t picture that.”

He chuckles, his eyes crinkling at the corners. “Exactly. But hey, for twenty-eight, I think I’m doing okay.”

“More than okay,” I say sincerely. “You’re killing it.”

His smile softens at the words, and for a moment, the two of us just sit here, the conversation flowing as easily as it had since we bumped into each other earlier. Hours passed like minutes as we talked about everything and nothing—our childhoods, his favourite places to photograph, our favourite music, his love for art.

Admittedly, his presence had begun to stir something deep inside of me—and flashbacks from our night together began to creep into my mind at inappropriate moments. I can’t help it. He’s just…hot.

His toned arms seem to flex slightly every time he moves to fuss over Rusty, and I’d caught a sliver of his bare stomach as he reached up to grab a CD from my bookshelf.

I keep having to reign my thoughts in, despite being tempted to make another move on him.

By the time the conversation begins to lull, the connection between us feels undeniable. It isn’t just the banter or the attraction—it’s the ease, the understanding. For the first time in a long time, I feel like I can just be myself, and I suspect he feels the same.

The sun is already dipping lower in the sky, casting a warm glow into the living room. I glance at the clock, surprised by how much time has passed.

Rusty is sprawled out in his usual spot, content from the long walk and the company, while Marcus sits across from me on the couch, sipping on water after hours of conversation.

He leans back, running a hand through his hair. “You know, I was sort of surprised you agreed to a coffee today,” he admits, his voice casual but carrying an undertone of vulnerability.

I raised an eyebrow, intrigued. “What do you mean?”

He hesitates for a moment, as if debating whether to say more. “It’s just… I don’t meet many people who stick around. Especially women. Usually, after the first night, they’re out the door, and I don’t hear from them again.”

I frown, guilt tugging at my chest. “Marcus…”

“It’s not a pity party or anything,” he adds quickly, his lips quirking into a small smile. “It’s just how it goes sometimes. I’m used to it.”

I set my glass down, leaning forward slightly. “I get that,” I say softly. “I’m kind of in my own head right now—just going through some stuff. But I do enjoy your company. A lot.”

His gaze meets mine, warm and genuine. “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” I reassure him, offering a small smile. “You’re good company, dude. Don’t doubt that.”

He lets out a breath, his shoulders relaxing slightly. “That means a lot. I really enjoy yours, too. Dude.”

A small laugh escapes your lips. The conversation lingers for a moment, the quiet between us comfortable and unspokenly charged. Then Marcus straightens up, his eyes bright with a mix of determination and nervousness. “So… how about we do this right? Let me take you on a proper date. Nothing fancy, no pressure, no strings. Just… us hanging out.”

I blink, caught off guard by the sudden question, but his sincerity is disarming. “A date?”

“Yeah,” he confirms, his lips curving into a hopeful smile. “Casual. Easy. No expectations. I promise.”

My mind races for a second, the idea of a date adding a weight I hadn’t considered. But as I look at him—earnest, kind, and maybe a little vulnerable—I find myself nodding.

“Okay,” I smile. “A casual date.”

His face lights up, the excitement unmistakable as he lets out a small laugh. “Really? That’s great. I’ll plan something, then. You’ll see, it’ll be fun.”

As he stands to leave, I can’t help but notice the bounce in his step, the way he grins over his shoulder at me before heading out the door. And for the first time in forever, I feel a small flicker of anticipation.

[startseeingstars]

Thankyou for the tag 😘 @starry-eyed-wild-child

Do you make your own bed? - yes, bc my bitch ass bf doesn’t lol 😂

Favourite number? 4 & 14 (I like 4s lol)

What’s your job? Childcare admin 🥰 love my job. Hoping to become a published author.

If you could go back to school, would you? Hell NO.

Can you parallel park? Okay so I NAILED this in my driving test, literally haven’t been able to do it again for years, until last week when I managed to do it again for the first time in like, 9 years 😆 so, YES?

Do you believe in aliens? Absolutely. We are not alone.

Can you drive a manual car? Nope 👎

Any guilty pleasures? Every now and then I’ll go on a Kardashian binge watch.

Phobias? 🪳 🤮 can’t.

Favourite childhood sport? Netball was the only one I really did! I am not a sports girly

Do you talk to yourself? 👀

Tattoos? Bmth ☔️ & Star (Amo), PVRIS ‘AWKOHAWNOH’ & a skull with a rose through it, floral piece on my forearm, a blackout triangle surrounded by Jasmine & Clover, a small rose, a vampire mouth with a heart lip piercing, a planchette with an eye, 444 (Angel number), lotus flower on my back, and a red lollipop with ‘cry baby’ written around it. I have many more planned 😈

Favourite colour? Purple & Black

Do you like puzzles? Yessss! Gimme gimme

Np: @chainsawgvtsfvck @greenxgloss

questions game

thanks for tagging me, you nosy fuck (ily) @strang3lov3

do you make your own bed? - no. i mean like, i don't see the point when it's just one big comforter and a few pillows yknow? as long as the comforter stays relatively flat idc.

favorite number? - odd ones, mostly. except 5, which seems like an even number wearing an odd number disguise.

what's your job? - that one stays close to the chest, sorry

if you could go back to school, would you? - like, if i suddenly had time and money to afford that? i would be into going to a mortuary science program, yes.

can you parallel park? - no fuckin' way.

do you think aliens are real? - i mean i'm sitting right here, aren't i?

can you drive a manual car? - no lol not even a little.

what's your guilty pleasure? - reality tv, especially from the early 2000s/2010s.

any phobias? - moths, caterpillars that disguise themselves as snakes and stuff. the dark.

favorite childhood sport? - basketball, baby.

do you talk to yourself? - yeah, but like mostly just to organize my thoughts when i can't focus.

tattoos? - yes. i guess like... six (one is a pair and one is a half-sleeve) plus a stick n poke on my inner ankle. well, less stick n poke and more like i cut it in with a razor and rubbed ink on it like a dipshit when i was like 21.

favorite color? - purple. blue is a close second. blurple is basically where it's at but only when it's more ultramarine blue based and not like, pastel lilac based or whatever

do you like puzzles? - yeah, i love them, even when i'm bad at them.

tagging @kappasbbgirl @angelsanarchy @starry-eyed-wild-child @luiscarrutherss @conquerorworm

[startseeingstars]

MY. FUCKING. HEART.

😭😭😭😭

From Kate’s IG story x

[startseeingstars]

SWOON

From Kate’s IG story x

[startseeingstars]

Smoke & Lights - Marcus (Swarm)

T/W - smut

CH03 🎶 Love No More - Loud Luxury 🎶

This week has been a blur of classes, late-night study sessions, and half-eaten meals between assignments. The only bright spot in the monotony was the steady stream of messages from Marcus. I’m not sure when it started feeling so natural, but now it was just… normal.

The conversations were light—mostly memes, ridiculous animal videos, and the occasional check-in about my studies or his projects that he’s been working on. But there is something refreshing about it. Marcus doesn’t press or pry, just sends the right amount of messages to keep things feeling effortless. And lately, I’ve found myself smiling at my phone more than I care to admit.

Still, by Friday night, I’m more than ready to let loose behind the DJ booth. An extra set at Prism meant extra cash, and with Vince officially out of my apartment, the thought of treating myself to a nice dinner or new gear isn’t far from my mind.

As I walk into the club, the familiar thrum of the bass hits me first, vibrating through the floor. People are already flooding in, their laughter and chatter adding to the electric atmosphere. I’d just reached for my phone to check the time when I noticed a series of Snapchats from Vince.

Unfortunately, curiosity always gets the better of me. So I open them.

My jaw tightens at the photo. He’s at some house party, laughing it up with a couple of girls I recognise from the club. One of them, with perfectly styled blonde waves, is perched on his lap, her arm draped casually around his neck. The caption reads: “Living my best life 😉”

My stomach churns, though not with jealousy. It’s annoyance. He’s clearly trying to bait me, plain and simple. Typical Vince. I tuck the phone back into my bag, rolling my eyes as I inhale a deep breath, willing the irritation away. I’m not about to let his petty antics ruin my night.

But it sticks with me, buzzing faintly under my skin like an itch I can’t quite scratch.

As I push through the crowd, I nod at a few familiar faces and make my way toward the bar. Then, like the universe’s way of balancing the scales, I spot Marcus.

He’s leaning against the bar, his hair tucked neatly behind his ears, his drink resting casually in one hand. Next to him is Deanna, chatting animatedly as her hand dances through the air. Even from a distance, I can see Marcus’s easy smile as he listens to her, his posture relaxed, his gaze attentive.

Relief washes over me in a sudden wave.

“Alora!” Deanna greets me in a sing-song voice as I approach, her face lighting up. “Girl, your outfit is giving tonight!” She fans herself dramatically with her hand and I grin, twirling and doing a little shimmy for her.

My wavy hair was half up, half down and the matching glittery black crop top and skirt set sits snug on my curves, accentuating my figure. Of course, I’m wearing my favourite knee high boots—signature DJ Nova style. So yeah, she’s right—I look hot.

Immediately, I blush as I realise Marcus’s eyes were me the entire time—wandering all the way down and back up again with that familiar smile of his spread across his face. “Hey,” he says simply, his voice warm and inviting, like he’s been waiting to see me.

And just like that, the tension Vince caused evaporated.

I return his smile, the corners of my lips quirking up as I slip into your usual playful confidence. “Hey yourself. What are you two conspiring about over here?”

Deanna laughs, gesturing toward Marcus. “This one was just telling me about how much he would love a dog like Rusty.”

“Is that so?” I ask, arching an eyebrow at Marcus, whose faint blush gives him away.

“Well,” he begins, rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly, “from what I’ve seen of Rusty in your stories, he seems like the chill type. I could use some of that energy in my life.”

The mental image of a hyperactive Rusty bounding around with Marcus makes me giggle. “Guess we’ll have to arrange a playdate sometime.” He has no idea how crazy that dog can be.

“Guess so,” he says, his grin widening just enough to send a little flutter through my chest.

I don’t want to admit it, but seeing him here—standing effortlessly confident and comfortable—makes the irritation from earlier melt away, almost laughable in hindsight. Whatever Vince was trying to pull doesn’t matter. Not anymore.

Marcus shifts slightly at the bar, his posture relaxed yet somehow commanding. He catches my eye and offers a small, crooked smile that feels unreasonably personal. My pulse quickens, and I quickly turn back to my drink, willing myself to play it cool.

He glances at his watch, then leans in just close enough for me to catch the faint trace of his cologne. “Be right back,” he said casually, his voice warm. I nod, watching as he disappears through the crowd with an effortless ease that only makes him more appealing.

The moment he’s out of sight, Deanna leans over the bar with a smirk so wide it could split her face. “Girl, he’s into you.”

I roll your eyes, setting the drink down. “He’s just nice.”

“Uh-huh,” she teases knowingly, sliding a freshly garnished cocktail to a patron before turning her full attention back to me. “Nice guys don’t come back to the same club two weekends in a row to see the same DJ. Face it—he’s smitten, babe.”

I snort, though a small part of me can’t help but wonder if she’s right. Still, I shrug, determined not to let the thought linger. “Even if he is, that’s his problem. I’ve got a set to do.”

Deanna shakes her head, her laugh light and teasing. “Keep telling yourself that, Miss Denial.”

Before I can fire back, the clock ticks to go-time. The familiar rush of anticipation settles in my chest. I drain the last of my water and push off the bar, smoothing my skirt with practiced ease.

Just as I’m heading toward the booth, Marcus reappears, timing his return perfectly. “Good luck,” he wishes me, his smile softer this time, as if the two of us share some unspoken secret.

I can’t help but grin back. “I don’t need it,” I tease assuringly, my confidence blooming under the heat of his gaze.

As I step behind the controller, the club buzzes with energy. The crowd surges closer, their excitement palpable, and the adrenaline in my veins turns sharp and electric. The first track rolls out, the bass hitting deep and steady, perfectly in sync with your heartbeat.

At first, it’s like any other night—just me, the music, and the crowd. But then, as I scan the sea of faces, my eyes land on Marcus.

He’s standing at the bar, drink untouched, one hand resting lightly on the counter. His body leans forward slightly, like his full attention is fixed on me. There’s something in his gaze—intense, unwavering, as if he can see past the music and into me.

The realisation sends a jolt of electricity through me, one that has nothing to do with the lights or the sound system. I force myself to tear my eyes away, to focus back on the music, pouring the sudden rush of energy into the set.

But every so often, I cave, and I glance back.

Each time, he’s still there, watching. And each time, it feels like his gaze sets my skin on fire, making me feel something I can’t quite name.

By the end of the set, I feel unstoppable, like I’m glowing. And I have a sneaking suspicion it isn’t just the crowd feeding my energy tonight—it’s him.

The bass is still thrumming in my veins, my cheeks are flushed, skin slick with adrenaline, and I feel invincible. The energy is infectious, like I can ride it forever.

I step away from the booth, pulling my headphones from around my neck, and before I can catch my breath, Marcus is there. He moves through the crowd effortlessly, his eyes locked on mine.

“You were amazing,” he says, his voice warm but carrying just enough awe to make my heart skip several beats.

I let out a breathless laugh, shifting slightly. “Thanks. I aim to please.”

He leans closer, his gaze unwavering. “You didn’t just please—you owned it.”

The way he says it, so matter-of-fact, sends a flutter through my stomach. For a moment, I’m unsure what to say, but Marcus fills the silence, his lips curving into an easy smile. “Can I buy you a drink?” His tone is light, but his eyes give him away—hopeful, eager in a way that feels disarmingly genuine.

I hesitate, glancing toward the bar. Drinking at work isn’t usually my thing: it’s a rule I’d made for myself years ago. But tonight, after the week I’d had, the way Marcus looks at me like I’m the only person in the room…

I nod, lips curving into a small smile. “Sure. Why not?”

Marcus’s grin widens, a flicker of pride shining in his expression as he gestures for me to follow him back to the bar. The crowd parted easily for him, and when we reached the counter, Deanna’s sharp eyes landed on me.

She raises an eyebrow, her gaze darting to the glass I ordered—a drink stronger than my usual lemon water. But to my relief, she didn’t say a word, only slid it across the counter with a subtle smirk.

“Don’t say it,” I mutter to her.

She laughs under her breath. “Wouldn’t dream of it.”

I turn back to Marcus, taking a sip of the drink. The liquor burns, warm and satisfying as it settles in my chest. He’s watching me, his gaze soft but curious, as if he’s memorising every detail of the moment.

“Good?” He asks, nodding toward my drink.

“Perfect,” I reply, my smile loosening as the night seems to shift into something new and different.

Tonight, I’ll let loose just a little. I deserve it.

🎶 I Could Be The One - Avicii, Nicki Romero 🎶

As the night goes on, the drink Marcus bought me turns into another, and then another. The music thrums in my chest, and the stress of the week melts away effortlessly. Marcus stays close, his presence grounding even as the alcohol buzzes through my veins.

Deanna, always the responsible one, shoots me a warning look as she passes me another drink. “You keep this up, and you’ll regret it tomorrow,” she reminds me, calling over the music.

I simply wave her off with a laugh. “It’s fine! I needed this.”

She raises an eyebrow but doesn’t press further, though I catch her shoot Marcus a quick glance that seems to say, You better look out for her.

The shots come faster after that—tequila, vodka, something sweet that I didn’t catch the name of. Marcus doesn’t seem to be drinking as much as me, though he doesn’t stop me either. He just stays nearby, his watchful gaze following as I dance to the music.

Eventually, the irresistible pull of the dance floor won out. I grab Marcus’s hand and drag him out with me. “Come on,” I encourage, my words slightly slurring but my smile wide.

“I’m not much of a dancer,” he admits, but he follows anyway.

The moment we reached the dance floor, I throw my arms up, moving my body to the rhythm of the music. The crowd presses in around us, the lights flashing in time with the beat, and I feel alive, weightless, electric.

Marcus stands awkwardly at first, but he loosens up as I encourage him, his smile growing as he mimics my movements. He isn’t the best dancer, but his effort makes me laugh, and the sound seems to embolden him.

At one point, he spins you around, his hands brushing my waist as he steadies you. The touch sends a surprising shiver through me, and when I turn back to face him, the way he looks at me makes my breath catch. There’s something soft in his expression, like he’s seeing a side of me he hadn’t expected.

“You’re good at this,” he says, his voice low enough that I barely hear him over the music.

“You’re terrible at this,” I tease, grinning.

He laughs, shaking his head. “You’ll just have to keep teaching me.”

His words feels like an invite, and I wrap my arms around his neck, pulling him closer. His eyes darken slightly, flickering to the small smile curling on my lips. For a moment, I wonder if he’ll kiss me.

But instead, his hands fall to my waist as we sway, but I pull away a little—teasingly, of course. Recognition flashes in his eyes and he grins, enjoying the push and pull game I’ve enticed him into.

We dance for what feels like hours, inhibitions melting away with every passing minute. At some point, I lose track of how many drinks I’ve had, but it doesn’t matter. The only thing that matters is the music, the warmth of Marcus’s body against mine, and the way the room seems to spin in the best possible way.

His hands hold my waist from behind, fingertips digging in slightly as my hips circle slowly. I reach my arm behind myself to hold his neck as I sway. After a few moments, I bite my lip, suddenly aware of the hardness emitting from Marcus’s trousers. I can’t resist, and find myself grinding against him lightly—though, probably not as inconspicuously as I’d imagined based on Deanna’s reaction from the bar.

Marcus’s breath hitches and he laughs a little before spinning me around. I can see the red in his cheeks, even under the colourful lights that dance around the room.

He’s close now. I can feel the heat radiating from him, his every movement hesitant but magnetic, as though he isn’t sure if he belongs in my orbit but can’t bring himself to leave.

I sway in sync with the beat, body moving instinctively. I don’t know if it’s the music or the drinks or the way he’s looking at me, but something about the moment feels electric, charged. His eyes catch mine, and for the first time all night, I realise he’s watching me—really watching me.

His hair falls in loose strands over his face, and I have the sudden, reckless urge to reach up and push it away.

My movements are so fluid and confident. And at this moment, it feels like my focus is entirely on him. The crowd, the music—they were background noise to the pounding of my own heart.

The air between us feels heavier, charged with unspoken tension. I’m not even sure when we’d stopped dancing and started standing still, our breathing in sync as the music rages on around us.

When my eyes met his again, shining under the flickering club lights, all rational thoughts scattering. I need to be closer to him. I want to feel his body against mine, his arms around me.

So I take a step forward, closing the small distance between us. “Marcus,” I murmur his name, voice barely audible over the music.

His name on my lips seems to break something in him. His brows draw together, his throat bobbing as he swallows, but he doesn’t move away.

One step closer, one little reach—it’s all I need to know if this is real.

Without thinking, my hand comes up, fingers brushing the hair away from his face, and his eyes widen slightly, like he can’t believe I’m touching him. His lips part, but he doesn’t say a word, just stands there, waiting.

“Do you want this?” I ask, voice low, just for him.

The words seem to hit him like a jolt, and for a second, he doesn’t speak. Did he want this? The answer is obvious—painfully so. But I want him to admit it. I’d be lying if I said the power I feel over him isn’t more intoxicating that the drinks I’ve had tonight.

“Yeah,” he manages, his voice rough. “I do.”

My hand is still in his hair, and my touch sends a visible shiver down his spine. Then I lean up, lips brushing his with the lightest pressure.

The kiss starts softly, tentatively, like we’re afraid to break the moment. But when I press closer, his hand comes up to your waist, anchoring me against him as he deepens the kiss.

There it is—that spark I’ve been waiting for, the one that makes everything else disappear and my head spin.

The club around me seems to fade, the music distant, the crowd a blur. All that matters is the way his lips are moving against mine, slow and deliberate, like he wants to savor every second.

When I finally pull back, his forehead rests against mine, his breathing uneven. His eyes search mine, and for a moment, neither of us speak.

“Wow,” he finally says, his voice barely above a whisper.

I giggle, fingers still brushing his hair as my head spins lightly. “Yeah. Wow.”

After that moment, it’s like something shifts between us. I take his hand, suddenly filled with a bold confidence— a desire for him that I’ve never felt before.

Marcus helps me weave our way through the crowd, his hand steadying me at your back. Deanna spots the two of us on your way out, and she leans over the bar, her voice stern. “Make sure she gets home safe, Marcus.”

“Promise,” he assures her, his voice steady and sincere.

🎶 Talking Body - Tove Lo 🎶

The cool night air wraps around us as we step out of the club, the faint buzz of the music still ringing in my ears. Marcus stays close, his hand hovering near my lower back like he’s ready to steady me if I stumble. It isn’t intrusive—just there, a quiet reassurance that makes me feel a little safer. Besides, I was definitely swaying a little, even if our electric kiss had sobered me a little.

The Uber pulls up, and Marcus opens the door for me without hesitation, holding it as I slide in. His quiet chivalry makes my heart skip, and when he climbs in after me, he shoots a small, warm smile my way. The kind that makes me feel like he’s been waiting for this moment all night.

The car is quiet save for the faint hum of the engine, and I can feel the weight of the unspoken tension hanging between us. Marcus didn’t sit too close, but he isn’t far either. His arm rests on the seat behind me, and I can feel the occasional brush of his sleeve against my shoulder as the car turns corners.

“Thanks for making sure I’m safe,” I say, breaking the silence.

He glances at me, his expression soft. “Of course. You’ve had a long night. And… I want to.”

There’s something about the way he says it—like it isn’t just a polite gesture, but something he’d been compelled to do. His gaze lingers on me for a moment longer before he looks back out the window.

I lean back in the seat, letting the city lights wash over my face. The alcohol coursing through my veins gives me just enough courage to ask, “You don’t do this often, do you?”

“Do what?” His voice is quiet, curious.

“Take girls home from clubs.” I smirk.

His lips twitch, but it isn’t quite a smile. “I mean, sometimes, sure but,” He looks down, his hand rubbing the back of his neck in a way that’s adorably shy. “Not often, no.”

The honesty in his tone makes my cheeks flush, and I turn my head toward the window, hoping he won’t notice. But when I glance at him from the corner of my eye, he’s already looking at me, his expression warm and a little amused.

When the Uber pulls up to his building, Marcus gets out first, offering a hand as I step onto the curb. His fingers are warm, his touch gentle, and for a moment, I wonder if he can feel how fast my pulse is racing.

The building’s lobby is modern and inviting, with clean lines and soft lighting. He leads us to the elevator, his hand brushing mine as he reaches to press the button. I swear I feel a spark at the contact, and from the way his lips quirk into a small, knowing smile, I wonder if he felt it too.

The elevator ride is quiet, but the air between us isn't uncomfortable. I lean against the wall, and Marcus stands just a step away, his hands in his pockets. Every now and then, he glances at me, like he wants to say something but can’t quite find the words.

When the doors open to his floor, he steps aside to let me out first, his hand hovering near my lower back again as he guides me to his apartment.

Inside, the space is exactly what I expected: sleek and minimal, but warm in a way that feels distinctly him. The black leather couch, the neatly stacked books on the coffee table, and the single thriving plant by the window all spoke to a person who likes things simple but cares about the little details.

“Okay,” I say, dropping my bag onto the couch and spinning in a slow circle. “I’ll admit, it’s nice. Not boring.”

Marcus grins, shutting the door behind him. “You don’t have to be nice about it. I know it’s not much.”

I shake my head, taking in the space again. “No, it’s… thoughtful. Like you.”

His smile softens, and he rubs the back of his neck again. “Thoughtful, huh? I’ll take it.”

I step closer, pulse quickening as the tension from earlier settles back into the room. “So, what made you want to take me home?”

He smirks slightly, but I see a faint blush creep up his neck beneath his hair. “This just feels different.”

My chest tightens, and for a moment, the world seems to shrink to just the two of us in this space. “Different how?” I ask, voice barely above a whisper.

He smiles, a little shy, a little sweet, and reaches out to tuck a strand of hair behind my ear. “Because it’s you.”

The simplicity of his answer leaves me breathless, and before I can overthink it, I close the small gap between us, leaning up until our lips meet. Marcus’s hands find my waist instantly, pulling me closer with a tenderness but firmness that makes my knees a little weak.

And just like that, every bit of anticipation, every glance, every quiet moment between us finally falls into place.

His lips are impossibly soft, and I get lost, sinking into his arms for a moment. Then, taking me by surprise, he lifts me and I yelp as I wrap my legs around him instinctively. He smirks and carries me to his bed.

Gently, he sets me down. The white sheets are soft beneath me and he straightens, still standing as he makes quick work of removing his shirt.

I audibly gasp when I see the toned slab of abs that were hidden by his clothing. A perfect v-line frames his stomach and I have to bite my lip from embarrassing myself further. He chuckles slightly and shrugs. “I enjoy the gym.” He humbly explains, and I giggle.

There’s a sweet shade of pink blushing his cheeks now, as I remove my own shirt. I make quick work of unhooking my bra and toss it at him playfully. His cheeks are bright red now, but he grins, shaking his head slightly. “Wow,” he whispers.

As though we’re taking it in turns, he unbuckles his belt and slides it out of the loops. My mind imagines all the dirty things I’d love to do with that belt, or have done to me, but I’m quickly back in reality as his pants drop and he steps confidently out of his boxers.

Holy. Shit.

My mouth is instantly watering, and I have to force my gaze to meet his eyes rather than the monster cock between his legs.

‘Wow’, is right.

Instead of just tugging my skirt off, I stand and make a point to have him sit down for me. I’m not sure where the confidence comes from, or the assumption that he’s okay with me taking control, but he swallows and does as I silently ask. He looks sweet, and almost a little nervous, but I let whatever alcohol is still coursing in my system fuel my next actions.

I turn away from him and swish my hips a little, toying with the waistband of the skirt as I ease it slowly over my ass. I hear his breathing get shaky, and it spreads an encouraging warmth through my chest as I step out of the skirt completely, along with my lace panties.

I turn back to him with a slightly uncertain gaze, but he looks in awe, and I decide to straddle his lap. Immediately, his hands hold my waist and his lips begin their attack on my collarbone, neck and jaw, making me simultaneously moan and giggle as he nips at my earlobe.

My hands explore his broad, strong shoulders and then creep up his neck, to his hair. His teeth graze the soft spot in the juncture of my neck and shoulder, and I moan, reactively gripping a fistful of his hair. He bites harder, and I moan louder, but then his tongue is soothing the sensitive sting.

I don’t mean to pull his hair so hard, so I release my grip, about to apologise when his lips break away from my skin. “I like it,” he whispers, bracing my arm with his hand and encouraging my fingers back through his silky hair.

Wet pools at my thighs as I realise just how much fun I’m going to have with this godly statue of a man. Before I can dwell on all the possibilities, his thumbs run over my hard nipples, sending a warm shiver down my spine.

“So beautiful,” he murmurs before taking one between his lips. He’s not afraid to use his teeth, and I like that. He’s gentle, but rough enough that his hot tongue flicking over the sensitive buds feels soothing and intoxicating in itself.

I can feel his cock pressing hard against my already dripping core, and I don’t think I can take this much longer. “More,” I manage to breathe out, barely above a whisper and he finishes his wonderful assault on my nipples. “Tell me what you want,” he whispers against my lips, and I moan into his kiss. “Tell me how to make you feel good,” he insists, and I almost whimper at the thought.

No one had ever cared about making me feel good before. It was always how they could use me to make themselves feel good, and the gentleness of his request told me he genuinely cared.

“Touch me,” I whisper, taking one of his large hands and guiding it down to my core. I involuntarily groan at the contact, and he’s quick to begin working heavenly circles over my clit.

How sad is it that I’m just impressed he knows where it is? No other guy I’ve been with got it right without me correcting them.

He’s gentle as two fingers slide inside of my soaked pussy, and I tense around him as my breath hitches. “You alright?” He moves them slightly and I moan in response as his thumb continues to work my clit.

“So good,” I breathe, and he pumps deeper. I tug at his hair and he smiles softly, closing his eyes like he’s trying to memorise the way my pussy feels wrapped around his slender fingers.

My entire body feels like it’s tingling from his touch, and I quickly lick my hand before I reach down, barely able to wrap my fingers around the girth of his cock. He shudders under my touch and I fight back a pleased smile, but the feeling resonates in my chest.

My mouth seals with his, tongues swirling and dancing, tasting each other. We moan together as he finger fucks me and I fist his length hungrily.

“I want you,” I breathe, needing more than just his fingers inside of me.

“Take me,” he whispers, withdrawing his fingers. Instantly, I’m empty, clenching around nothing and desperate for him to fill me again.

“Wait,” He reaches over to his nightstand and makes quick work of sliding on a condom. I blink, realising I’d just been about to have unprotected sex with him. I was so caught up in him, the thought of protection hadn’t even crossed my mind. At least if I had forgotten and he didn’t insist, I’m on the pill.

He looks at me as I guide the tip of his cock against my core. “Oh, fuck,” he breathes as I lower myself down. I whimper. Even with the lubed condom and my own slick, there’s resistance. He’s just so big.

Luckily for me, I’ve always enjoyed the feeling of being stretched. No pain, no gain, right? I’m barely past the head of his cock when his lips find my shoulder.

“Take your time,” He assures me, and for a split second, I wonder how often he has to talk through a woman to comfortably sit on his cock. Something unsettling sparks in my stomach, but I quickly forget it again as I take him even deeper.

“Fuck,” I cry out a little and decide to just go for it. I thrust my hips down, taking him to the hilt and making him moan. His fingers dig into the flesh of my hips and I begin grinding, getting used to feeling so full of him.

The delicious sting fades and I begin bouncing, riding his cock as his hands explore every inch of my skin he can reach.

“Oh, yeah, just use my cock,” he moans out, head tilting back slightly. The firing burning in my belly rages.

“You make me feel so fucking full,” I gasp. I look down at him. His lips are parted and his eyes locked on my face—watching me closely like he’s mesmerised. I don’t think, I just kiss him. Our lips move perfectly in sync with one another and I melt into him.

He’s pulling me closer, one arm wrapped around my waist, guiding my hips, and the other around my back keeping me pressed to him.

I can already feel the tension coiling tight in my stomach, but I need his release too. We gasp for air as we break the kiss, and I grip another fistful of his hair, yanking his head back slightly so I have his attention on me. “Cum for me,” I plead, and he nods eagerly, moving both hands to my hips and picking up the pace. He lies back on the bed and I moan as he bucks deep and hard into me.

My hands rest on his perfect fucking body, and I’m so fucking close, but I want to feel his cock swell and pulse inside of me.

“Oh, fuck,” I whimper as I realise I can’t stop my own orgasm—he’s too much. My words seem to do something to him because he groans.

“Take it, take it,” he begs, and his thrusts become longer and sporadic. One pulse of his thick cock inside of me is all it takes to completely send me over the edge.

I cry out, a sound that I’ve never made before rings in my ears as a white hot wave of bliss crashes over me and I tremble. My thighs clench around his hips and I hang my head as the last of the waves ride through me.

Panting, light headed and beyond wet between my thighs, I glance at him. His eyes are almost closed, but he’s looking at me with the sweetest smile. My heart swells and I giggle breathlessly.

What the fuck.

[startseeingstars]

Happy bday Kate 🥲

From Kate’s IG post x

[startseeingstars]

Back to our regularly scheduled programming 🥹 🤤

From Kate’s IG story x

[startseeingstars]

DADDYS BACK YALL 🍷

From Kate’s IG story x 💞

[startseeingstars]

THEY BOUGHT A HOUSE TOGETHER 🤭😍🥰

From Kate’s IG story x

[startseeingstars]

Smoke & Lights - Marcus (swarm)

CH02 🎶 Sugar - Robin Schulz, Francesco Yates 🎶

The next morning, soft beams of sunlight filter through my blinds as I sit cross-legged at the kitchen table. A half-empty mug of coffee sits beside a scattered mess of textbooks and notebooks, my pen scribbling furiously as I try to keep my focus.

Rusty is snoozing contentedly on the floor nearby, his legs occasionally twitching as if he’s chasing something in his dreams.

I’m deep into a dense section of my notes when my phone vibrates, pulling me out of my concentration. I sigh, initially intending to ignore it, but curiosity quickly gets the better of me. Picking it up, I see an Instagram notification. Marcus has followed my personal account.

Huh. I frown slightly, brows knitting in thought. It isn’t unusual for people I met at gigs to follow my DJ account—fans, casual acquaintances—but it is rare for someone to track down my personal profile—not that it’s hard. Does it mean something? Or is it just a coincidence?

Shaking my head, I dismiss the thought. It doesn’t matter. I put the phone down and return to my studies, the concepts pulling my focus back in—at least for a little while.

A couple of hours later, I lean back in my chair with a sigh, deciding it’s time for a break. Rusty is now sprawled in a patch of sunlight, his golden fur glowing warmly.

Smiling, I grab my phone and snap a quick picture, his fluffy frame in the foreground and my chaotic pile of textbooks in the back. I caption it, Study buddy, and post it to my story.

It doesn’t take long for the notification sound to pull my focus back to my phone. Marcus replied to my story.

Marcus: Cute dog—what’re you studying?

I hesitate for only a second before typing back: Music Production.

His reply is almost instant.

Marcus: That’s cool. Always wanted to learn about that. Do you do original stuff, or just DJ?

I find myself smiling a little.

Me: Mostly DJing, but I’ve started making my own tracks.

The conversation is far from groundbreaking, but it is enough to make me pause. There’s something refreshing about his tone—genuine, unassuming. It’s a nice change from the usual overly flirty or dismissive messages I tend to receive from strangers online.

Just as I’m about to put the phone down and get back to work, another notification pops up: Marcus added to his story.

Curiously, I click on it.

The post is simple. A coffee cup and a flaky-looking pastry sitting on a small table, the caption reading, Starting the day off right.

My heart skips a beat as you recognise the backdrop—a cozy café with unmistakable green-tiled walls. It’s the same one I pass every morning when I walk Rusty.

“Small world,” I mutter under my breath, glancing at Rusty, who is now stretching lazily, his paws brushing against the chair leg.

The coincidence lingers in the back of my mind as I go back to my notes. But every so often, I find myself thinking about the café, the coffee, and the guy in the perfectly tailored suit from the night before.

🎶 This is What You Came For - Rhianna 🎶

The week blurs by in a haze of deadlines and routines, but by the time Saturday night rolls around, I am more than ready to step back into the world of flashing lights and pounding bass.

The moment I walk into Prism, the familiar hum of energy in the club washes over me, grounding and exhilarating all at once.

The dance floor is already alive, early arrivals swaying to the beat as the opening DJ works the crowd into a slow build. I adjust the strap of my bag over my shoulder and scan the room.

Deanna’s unmistakable figure catches my eye behind the bar. Her high ponytail swings like a metronome as she pours a neat line of tequila shots, laughing with a group of rowdy patrons. When she spots me, her grin widens, and she waves me over.

“Hey there, superstar,” she teases, sliding a glass of water across the bar toward me. “Ready to show them how it’s done?”

I smirk, setting my bag down on the counter. “Always. How’s it looking tonight?”

“Wild already,” she says, nodding toward a group of women loudly toasting near the end of the bar. “Bachelorette party and the usual weekend warriors. You’ve got a crowd tonight.”

Her easy confidence has a way of settling my nerves, and I find myself leaning into the conversation, soaking up her playful energy. Deanna always has a way of making me feel like I own the room before I’ve even stepped into the booth.

“Alright, I’m off,” I say, picking up my bag. “Catch you later?”

“You bet,” she says, already turning back to her customers with a wink.

As I weave through the thrumming crowd toward the DJ booth, adjusting my headphones around my neck, a flicker of movement catches my eye.

Marcus.

He’s leaning against one of the sleek black pillars near the back, his posture relaxed yet commanding attention in the most understated way. This time, he isn’t wearing a suit. Instead, he’s opted for a crisp, dark button-up tucked into tailored black pants, the simple outfit accentuating his quiet confidence.

My pulse skips when our eyes lock. He isn’t doing anything particularly remarkable—just standing there with a drink in hand, observing the room. Yet his presence feels oddly magnetic. When he smiles, it’s subtle, almost shy, like it’s meant just for me.

I smile back reflexively before turning away, telling myself not to overthink it. He’s probably just here to unwind, nothing more. Still, as I’m setting up in the booth, I can’t quite shake the weight of his gaze.

The moment I hit play on the first track, the room transforms. The crowd surges forward, the music pulling them like a tide, and I let myself dissolve into the rhythm. My hands move instinctively over the controls, each transition seamless, every beat intentional.

And yet, my attention continues to drift back to Marcus.

He isn’t dancing, but he doesn’t feel out of place. He stands rooted near the pillar, his head nodding ever so slightly to the beat, his focus locked on me—or maybe the music. I can’t quite tell.

What is he doing here again? The question lingers in my mind as I lean into the next drop, the bass reverberating through the room. I shake your head, forcing myself to focus.

For now, I let the music speak, pouring everything into the sound, knowing that if he is here for me, he’ll have to wait.

🎶 What’s My Name? - Rihanna 🎶

The music throbs faintly in the background as my set wraps up, leaving me with a familiar post-performance buzz.

I step down from the booth, weaving through the crowd as cheers follow in my wake. Prism’s energy is electric tonight, the air thick with sweat, spilled drinks, and the kind of reckless abandon only a Saturday night can bring.

Unsurprisingly, Deanna is at the bar, effortlessly juggling orders, her movements quick and precise. She throws me a quick smile when she spots me heading her way. I’m reaching for the glass of water when a stranger steps into my space.

He’s tall, with an air of overconfidence that matches his too-expensive cologne. His grin is wide and cocky as he leans in, his voice loud to cut through the bassline.

“DJ Nova, right?” He asks, his words slurring slightly. “You killed it up there. Let me buy you a drink.”

I offer a tight smile, keeping my tone polite but firm. “Thanks, but I’m good.”

He doesn’t take the hint. “Aw, come on. Just one drink. What’s your poison? Tequila? Vodka?”

“I don’t drink when I’m working,” I explain, stepping back slightly, patience thinning.

Undeterred, he presses closer. “Okay, okay. Then how about I get your number instead?”

“I’m not interested,” I reply, sharper this time.

“Don’t be like that—”

Before I can finish shutting him down, a warm hand slides around your waist. I stiffen in surprise, but the gesture is gentle, protective, and the voice that follows is achingly familiar.

“There you are, babe,” Marcus says smoothly, his tone calm but carrying enough weight to make the guy hesitate. “Thought I lost you for a second.”

The stranger’s grin falters, annoyance flickering across his face before he shrugs and mutters, “Whatever,” before slinking back into the crowd.

I turn toward Marcus, heart racing—partly from irritation at the stranger, partly from the warmth of Marcus’s arm that lingered a moment too long before he stepped back, hands raised in apology.

“I hope that wasn’t too much,” he says, his voice soft and sincere. “You looked like you had it handled, but I figured maybe he needed an extra push to leave you alone.”

I stare at him for a moment, torn. I’m not the kind of person who needs saving, but it is hard to deny the ease with which Marcus defused the situation.

I sigh, the tension easing from my shoulders. “Thanks for the assist,” I said, my tone lighter. “Let me buy you a drink as a thank-you.”

He hesitates, that boyish smile I’m starting to recognise tugging at his lips. “You really don’t have to—”

“Too late,” I interrupt, motioning to Deanna. She raises a curious eyebrow but strolls over, her emerald eyes flicking between the two of us with barely concealed intrigue.

“What’ll it be?” She asks Marcus, a faint smirk playing on her lips.

“Gin and tonic,” he says, glancing at me like he’s asking permission.

I smile and nod as Deanna turns to mix the drink, her hands moving with practiced precision. She slides the glass in front of Marcus, leaning on the counter as her gaze lingers on him.

“Didn’t think I’d see you here again,” she says casually, though her tone holds an edge of curiosity. “Didn’t you show up last night? Didn’t stick around long, though.”

Marcus freezes, his fingers tightening on the glass as a faint blush creeps up his neck. He stammers for a second before clearing his throat. “Yeah, uh… just wanted to check the vibe again.”

Deanna’s smirk widens, her eyes twinkling with mischief. “Funny. Pretty sure I saw you here last weekend, too.” She winks at me.

My stomach flips at the implication, and my gaze flickers to Marcus. He’s staring into his drink like it holds the secrets of the universe.

“Huh,” I say lightly, playing it off. But the thought settles in my mind, unshakable. Is he here for me?

It doesn’t seem like Marcus’s usual scene, and yet, here he is—again. Twice now, he’s shown up, quiet but unmistakable.

And I can’t help but wonder what that means.

🎶 Closer - The Chainsmokers, Halsey 🎶

The cool night air brushes against my skin as I step out of the club, the contrast sharp between the heavy heat inside and the crisp stillness outside. The low hum of the bass lingering in my ears, the energy of the crowd gradually fading into the background. Normally, I’d wait for Deanna to finish up behind the bar, but tonight feels different—quieter, as if the universe is offering a moment just for myself.

So, I decided to head toward the bus stop, thinking the walk might clear my head before facing another long night of studying.

“Alora.”

The sound of my name, soft and deliberate, makes me pause mid-step. I turn to see Marcus jogging toward me, his easy smile catching the glow of the streetlights. There is something about the way he says my name that sends a shiver down my spine, and I hate how easily it stirs something inside of me.

“Let me walk you to your car,” he offers, his tone casual, yet genuine.

I arch a brow, a faint smile tugging at my lips. “I don’t have my car tonight. Just the bus for me.”

His grin widens briefly before he catches himself, a flicker of amusement dancing in his eyes. “I could drive you home if you’re up for it,” he says smoothly, his voice light, no pressure behind the offer. It feels less like a favor and more like a considerate gesture—something simple and kind, without strings attached.

I hesitate for a moment, weighing my options: a crowded bus full of strangers or a thoughtful brunette with eyes that seemed to glow in the dim light. The choice is a no brainer.

“Alright,” I agree, tilting my head playfully. “But you have to promise not to kidnap me.”

He laughs softly, his voice low and warm, as he motions toward his car. “Tempting,” he teases, his grin widening, “but I’ll stick to keeping my record clean.”

The car engine hums quietly as I slid into the passenger seat, its warmth wrapping around me like a cozy blanket. Marcus adjusts his seatbelt, glancing at me briefly before turning his focus to the road.

“So,” I break the silence, a smirk playing on my lips, “big partier, huh?” I can’t help but think of what Deanna said earlier.

He shifts in his seat, his hands resting casually on the wheel. “Not really,” he admits. “But I’m trying to get out more. I tend to be a bit of a homebody.”

I nod thoughtfully, sensing the truth behind his words. “I get that. There’s nothing I love more than lying on my couch with Rusty and watching trash reality TV.”

The admission makes him smile, his lips curving upward as he glances my way. “Can’t say I watch much reality TV,” he says, his voice a little deeper in the quiet of the car, “but cuddling sounds like a great time.”

My cheeks warm instantly at his comment, but I’m unsure if he means it in a joking way or something more. He realises the slip, his eyes widening slightly as he hastily clarifies. “I meant with Rusty!” He says quickly.

I bite my lip to suppress a laugh. “Smooth,” I tease, smirk widening as I watch his ears turn a faint shade of red under the dim glow of the dashboard lights.

He groans softly, shaking his head as he focuses back on the road. “Yeah, real smooth,” he mutters.

The banter flows effortlessly between us, light and natural, like I’ve known Marcus forever. I find myself glancing at him more often than I intend, but the way the streetlights cast soft shadows over his features makes him look impossibly handsome.

It’s not until we reached my street that I realise just how much I don’t want the drive to end. The easy silence, the comfort of his company—it’s unexpected, almost therapeutic. But as the familiar outline of Vince’s car comes into view on the other side of the street, a knot forms deep in my stomach.

Marcus notices the subtle shift in my mood. His brow furrowed slightly, his hand lingering on the gearshift before he speaks. “You okay?” His voice is soft, laced with genuine concern.

I straighten in the seat, slipping back into the calm I always wear when Vince reappears. “Yeah. Just… my ex,” I reply smoothly, brushing it off as if it’s nothing.

Marcus’s expression tightens, though he doesn’t press further. “I could come in with you,” he offers, his tone steady but protective. “Make sure he doesn’t do anything stupid.”

The sincerity in his voice gives me pause, but I quickly shake my head, offering a small smile. “Thanks, but I’ve got this,” I assure him. I’ve learned long ago how to handle Vince on my own. No one needs to fight my battles anymore. “Besides,” I add with a teasing smirk, “you’ve already handled enough unwanted company for me tonight.”

Marcus chuckles, the sound easy and genuine, though his gaze stays on me for a moment longer, as if he’s still assessing the situation.

I can tell he wants to push further, but he relents, leaning back into his seat with a small grin. “Fair enough. But next time,” he says playfully, “I’d kind of like to see how it plays out. Bet that fiery redhead temper is really something.”

I laugh softly, the tension easing just a bit. “Oh, it’s a great show,” I meet his teasing gaze. “As long as you’re not on the receiving end.” I give him a wink.

“Noted,” Marcus grins, settling further into the seat. For a moment, the silence between us feels easy, comfortable.

The glow of the dashboard lights his features softly, highlighting the sharp lines of his jaw, the way his cheekbones seem to catch just the right amount of light. When his eyes meet mine again, I feel caught, like he could see right through me.

“I should go deal with him,” I sigh finally, breaking the moment as I glance toward the house. My lips pressed into a thin line as I exhale slowly.

Marcus nods, though he doesn’t move to start the car. “Just reach out if you need anything,” he says casually, though the weight of the words hangs heavily in the air. “I don’t live far from here.”

I give him a genuine smile, eyes softening. “Thanks,” I say quietly, before stepping out of the car. The cool night air hits me once more as the door shut. I straighten my shoulders, holding my head high as I walk toward the house.

I don’t turn back, but I feel Marcus’s steady gaze on me, a quiet reassurance as I face what lay ahead with Vince.

🎶 No Promises - Cheat Codes, Demi Lovato 🎶

I sighed heavily the moment I stepped inside. Vince sat, slouched on my couch, an empty beer bottle dangling from his fingers. Rusty let out a low, annoyed whine and at the sight of him scratching at the back door fills me with a quiet rage. The poor dog looks just as irritated as I currently feel, and it isn’t hard to guess why.

“How the hell did you get in, Vince?” I ask sharply, dropping my bag by the door.

Vince grins lazily, clearly drunk. “Key,” he says simply with a shrug, holding it up between his fingers like it’s a damn trophy.

Of course. I mentally curse myself for forgetting about the spare, vowing to hide it somewhere new. I take a deep breath, fighting the urge to snap. “Vince, I told you, you’re not welcome here anymore. You’re supposed to be out by now. Why the hell are you here?”

He pushes himself up from the couch, swaying slightly as he takes a step toward me. Instantly, my skin crawls as I anticipate his touch. “Come on, babe, don’t be like this. We can work it out. I mean, who else is gonna put up with you, huh?” His words are slurring, and his attempt at a smug grin only makes your stomach churn.

“I don’t need anyone to ‘put up with me,’ least of all you,” I snap, keeping my voice firm. “You cheated on me. You don’t get to act like I owe you anything. Now get the hell out.”

Rusty growls from his spot near the back door, backing me up, and I can’t help but smirk a little. Even my dog has better judgment than to tolerate Vince’s bullshit.

Vince scoffs, staggering toward the door. “You’ll regret this. You’ll never find another guy like me.”

“Again—that’s the point, asshole” I shoot back viciously crossing my arms as I hold the door open for him.

He mutters something under his breath as he stumbles out, but I don’t care enough to catch it. The moment he’s outside, I slam the door shut and lock it. Rusty barks in approval, his tail wagging furiously as I let him back inside.

“Good boy,” I mutter, ruffling his fur as I lean against the door, letting out a shaky breath. The anger is already starting to fade, replaced by exhaustion.

Then, my phone buzzes in my pocket, and I pull it out to find a message from Marcus:

Marcus: Hey, everything okay?

I stare at the screen for a moment, surprised by how much those three words soothed me in just a matter of seconds. Without overthinking it, I begin typing back:

Me: Yeah, just my ex being a pain in the ass again. He’s gone now. Thanks again for the ride, though. Really appreciate it.

The response came almost immediately:

Marcus: Anytime. Let me know if you need anything, okay?

I catch myself smiling faintly, the earlier frustration softening at his thoughtfulness. After a moment’s hesitation, I type back:

Me: Will do. Night. :)

I toss the phone onto the counter and give Rusty another pat before heading to my room. As I change into my pajamas, I can’t help but replay the night in my mind—Marcus’s easy smile, the way he seemed genuinely concerned.

Maybe tonight hadn’t been all that bad after all.