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chlorinecake · 6 months ago

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❝ MOLTO BELLA ❞ — P.JS

▹ PAIRING: soft dom! guitarist bf!jay x bratty switch! gf!reader

▹ WARNINGS: ⚠︎ BRAT TAMER JAY who puts you back in your place, f. masturbation, kind of giggly foreplay in the beginning, dry humping, titty play, finger sucking, hair pulling, rough unprotected sex in a hotel room (BACK SHOTS), cream pie, mentions of clubbing

▹ WORD COUNT: 2.1k, for @heeslomll on her lovely birthday... wishing you a very happy 19th, queen !! ♡♡♡

Just two days ago, Jay had whisked you away on a surprise getaway vacation, granting you both with a much-needed break from the hustle and bustle of your everyday lives…

Clubbing was a popular activity in the area, so like most guests at the Diamond Hotel, you and your boyfriend hit up an exotic club, where flashing lights, pounding music, overpriced drinks, and swirling bodies took over your sensual fields.

It wasn’t til around midnight once y’all had stumbled back to the hotel room, tiny giggles bumping from your tipsy body as Jay helped you undress, his touch gentle while guiding you into the warm bath he ran for you…

Oddly enough though, by time the following morning came, you couldn’t help but replay in your mind the way Jay’s veiny hands looked while carefully washing away the traces of last night's revelry from your skin…

The way his touch meticulously pampered you…

If you had had the energy for it last night, you’re sure you would’ve pulled his sexy ass into the tub with you, but that chance was over and done with now…

All you had currently was this king sized hotel bed all to yourself and your two, pathetic fingers that couldn’t make you feel good for shit…

And that’s when you heard it…

Jay’s skilled fingers faintly strumming a melody from his guitar… just from a few rooms away from you…

“Morning, beautiful,” Jay greeted upon hearing your bare footsteps enter the living room where he was busy working on chord progressions at the couch…

“Morning, daddy…” you returned playfully, catching on to the little smirk staining his face right away.

“Last night was fun…” you went on, almost mesmerized in the way his thick fingers traveled lower down the guitar neck, “didn’t know you could dance like that…”

“Yea?” He chuckled, eyeing you through his bangs as you paced around the table, “didn’t know you could drink like that, either…”

You let out a scoff at his comment, “Pleaseee, I was being quite conservative, actually… didn’t wanna make chaperoning too hard for you…”

“I'm sure I could handle it,” Jay replied in a slightly deeper voice this time, making your stomach flutter slightly at his words, “You hungry, party girl?”

“Not yet… I mostly just wanted to see why you left me all alone in bed this morning…”

Jay chuckled at your words, “Sorry about that, baby… I just wanted to practice this riff for a minute, but it doesn’t matter… you make sure my fingers get enough exercise anyways…”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Well… it means that I know you want something from me right now… with the way you’re pacing around… what is it, love?…”

You felt kinda bad for getting out of bed just in hopes that Jay would wanna fuck you, but tossing and turning on the sheets while thinking about his fingers inside you wasn’t any better either…

“Just wanna sit here, if that’s okay,” you sighed, eyes falling to his lap as he placed the guitar down beside him against the wall, leaning back on the couch a bit now so you could nestle yourself in his lap.

He gave his thighs a quick pat as you came over, straddling him now as he gave you a kiss under your ear, “Of course this is okay, princess… no need to be shy…”

You tried to ignore the feeling of Jay’s dick resting beneath your core, but couldn’t help yourself from grinding against it slightly.

And it didn’t take many words after that for your boyfriend to know exactly what you wanted from him now...

His hands fell to your hips while you kept humping against his lap, eyes wandering down to the way your nipples poked through your thin pajama shirt just as you asked if he wanted to touch them…

“Will you smack me again if I pinch them this time?”

You gasped at his words, feeling his grip on your thighs tighten as he smacked the flesh there, looking into your eyes now.

“You've helped me toughen up since then, baby,” you said with a heavy voice, “just need to feel your hands on me more than anything right now...”

“What's the magic word, love?”

You let out a sigh at his teasing, rolling your eyes as you said, “Please, Jay, would you play with my titties while I dry hump you like a virgin, pretty please?”

He chuckled at your words once again—

—with that attractive ass chuckle of his… not even hesitating to slide his hands under your shirt and start fondling with your boobs, lifting your shirt over one tit as he ran a thumb over your nipple…

He then leaned his head down to take a wet swipe with his warm tongue over your sensitive bud, sending shivers down your spine as you whined slightly.

“So needy this morning… was wondering what kept you in bed so long today…” he started with a tantalizing whisper.

“I had a dream about you… I tried to touch myself but—”

“It didn’t feel as good as this, huh?” He finished for you, rutting his hips up for a second as he tightening his grip on your tit, “already got you feeling sensitive and all your clothes are still on…”

All you did was moan at your boyfriend’s words, putting your hands at his shoulders just as his hands traveled lower, “can’t make myself cum without you anymore, Jay…”

“Then let me help you feel better, love… Do you like the way that sounds?…”

“Yes,” you nodded dumbly, letting him kiss you now as you still circled yourself in his lap, leaving a wet spot behind on his sweatpants.

He picked you up bridal style before taking you to the bedroom and placing you on the bed that still wasn’t made up after all your stirring this morning…

You already started to spread your legs for him as he stood before you, making him smirk at your neediness. “Would you close your legs for like, one second? I haven’t even pulled my dick out yet…”

“Well if it bothers you so much, why don’t you do something about it?”

He simply smiled at you again. Smugly this time, “Y’know, you say you’ve toughen up with me, but I bet you’d still start crying once I actually put you in your place…”

That’s when Jay took a hold of your hips, pulling you closer to where he stood with both your pelvises touching now.

“I’d say it’s worth a try,” you went on, looking back at him with blowjob eyes, “I always like it when you play rough with me, anyways…”

He trailed a finger from your knee, along your thigh, before finally reaching your pussy, where he tapped a finger at, knowing exactly where your clit was already given how many times he’s touched you before…

Circling your clothed clit, he applied a bit of pressure to the spot while holding your face to look at him, your tongue laving at his thumb as he toyed with your lower lip.

He felt himself twitch in his pants at the way you moaned against his finger, not wanting to waste anymore time before he said, “turn over for me, love…”

And you did just that, turning over on your stomach almost instantly, not even being able to process it when Jay swiftly pulled your shorts and panties down, the room’s cool air hitting your cunt.

You meant to say something bratty, but he interrupted your thoughts with a spank to your ass, not a painful one, but hard enough to get your attention…

To keep you in check…

“Tell me… how did I fuck you in your dream?”

“Like this,” you said plainly while poking your ass out for him, bumping against his bulge… “only difference is that you didn’t take as long to get started…”

“Oh? Well isn’t that nice,” Jay smirked, just as your ears caught on to the sound of him untying his pants and pulling them down.

You turned your head to look back for a second, quite obviously checking out his dick that you weren’t surprised to see was fully hard.

Catching onto your peeking, he pressed your face into the mattress, lining his tip up with your sopping hole before asking, “Was I rough, too?...”

You couldn’t even get an answer out before he pushed himself in, the sudden feeling of fullness making your torso tense with pleasure that traveled throughout your entire body.

“Don’t get shy on me again, baby,” Jay cooed, releasing the weight of his hand from your face slightly while keeping your shirt out of the way with his other hand, “I’m not even fully inside you, yet…”

He thrusted his hips into you again, pushing past your tightness as your walls hesitantly welcomed the rest of his length inside.

“Anggh,” you winced for a second, gripping at the sheets given the deep stretch.

He didn't care for your whining though, as he knew it was only gonna be a matter of time before you started begging him to go faster.

“J-Jay!” You cried out weakly, already too affected by his ministrations as you felt his tip reach amazing places inside you, his hand bunching up your hair as he kept your face meshed with the mattress.

“Jay, what?” He taunted in a voice so low, you felt it in your pussy, his free hand letting go of your shirt only to pin your hands behind your back, the sheets releasing from your grip with a loud pop.

“Y’know I can’t read your mind, princess…especially not when you’re going all dumb on my cock like this…”

He wasn’t going to ease up on you until you told him how you wanted him, even if your words would have to come out in tiny little hiccups and broken moans...

It was his way of teasing you… not because he was an asshole, but he knew deep down that you always enjoyed the sex better whenever he made you work for it a bit.

“I w-want it to hurt,” your voice managed to come out muffed against the sheets, eyes pricking with tears given his hold on your hair coupled with the way he kept fucking into your desperate cunt, “p-please keep f-fucking me like this...”

You almost couldn't believe you were falling apart so quickly, and neither could Jay, your knees hardly being able to stay straight given how hard he pounded into you.

Your boyfriend groaned deeply behind you, keeping your arms pinned as his hips pistoled into you at a rapid pace, your moans syncing up with each slap of skin, “you're driving me fucking crazy right now- fughhck, baby... feels so good inside you...”

It wasn't long before Jay's once controlled thrusts turned into much sloppier ones as you both drew closer to your highs, his grip on your hands releasing as he leaned over you, close enough to where he could kiss along your shoulders.

A small puddle of drool rested where your mouth was on the mattress, just as you felt his fingers tap at your cheek, making your teary eyes flutter back open.

He wanted you to look into his eyes for the last few moments he could last inside you, the tip of his cock pulsing with his heart beat as you felt his load filling you up.

A loud groan fell from his lips as he slowed down the movement of his hips, holding you down with his weight as your orgasm followed soon after his, body trembling given how powerful the sensation was.

You were a squirming mess beneath him, whining out desperate cries of him name as your walls pulsating around him like a drum, his lips finally meeting yours in a sweet kiss as you felt his length slip out of you, a string of slick connecting your bodies.

“How was that, princess?” Your boyfriend asked breathlessly, almost in a cooing manner as he brushed a bit of your hair out of the way, “feel any better now?…”

“Shut up, I feel amazing,” you said, giving him a knowing look with your eyes as your breath came out like a satisfied purr, his touch still tracing the side of your face as you looked back at him.

That's when you felt his tip sliding between your folds, making your legs feel wobbly all over again given how sensitive you still were.

“Think you got another one in you for me?” Jay asked, the head of his cock coming dangerously close to your hole now as he whispered against your neck, kissing the skin there.

Yes, you were already satisfied, but given the way he sweet-talked to you in this moment, you're sure another round wouldn't hurt.

��︎ Thank you all so much for reading this fic! Make sure you all wish this beautiful Italian princess a very happy birthday before the day is out, and check out my enhypen bookshelf if you’re interested in more works like this !!

⚠︎ tag list: @squoxle @nikisvanillaccola @wonbinisbabygurl @addictedtohobi @ashgonedash @yourmomscuntis2tighy @watamotee33 @ot7sevenlvr

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hairasuntouchedaspartoftheamazon · 2 years ago

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hmmmm. just wrote out the entirety of lyrics to an Incredibly Depressing new song. perhaps I am not dealing with things well.

#Sebastian speaks #uh rye if you see this know that like #I am channeling so many shit emotions into songwriting and I apologize for this #that said if I manage to come up an actual like riff and melody and all that shit I will play this song #I might cry but like #it could be a good song

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seraphdreams · 1 year ago

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DON'T FORGET ME | BAJI KEISUKE.

⋆˙⟡♡ synopis. going to a concert with your best friend certainly has its perks. and so does hooking up with one of the bandmates.

⋆˙⟡♡ contains. bimbo!reader, rockstar!baji, unprotected sex, pet names, asphyxiation, creampie, semi-public sex, baji being sleazy + eighteen plus, mdni.

⋆˙⟡♡ word count. 3.3k.

“Thanks for coming to tonight’s show! Here’s one more song before we head out!”

You’d never been much of a fan of underground rock music, and quite frankly, you still weren’t. Something about obnoxiously loud vocals backed up with random electric guitar riffs just never settle right within your spirit. In fact, you almost forgot the real reason you stood just yards away from one of the biggest up and coming rock bands.

For one thing, the air was incredulously too suffocating. Bodies upon bodies virtually sewn together despite the spacious arena that held them, and the stage lights abnormally dim—Only a few saffron-hued luminescences casted upon the four males that appeared on the platform. You hardly saw the members in the far back on their guitars but of what you could make out, one had white hair decorated with a small black streak and tan skin that glimmered under the hot lights while the other, with a dark neck tattoo and bold eyes, drank from his half-full water bottle.

Mostly by the front and center of the stage, occupied the drummer and the person who was just speaking out from the mic mere seconds ago.

“That’s my fucking brother!” Your best friend and little sister of the main vocalist, Airi shouted. She was but the replication of her brother; large, emerald orbs dazzled with long dark brown eyelashes and heaps of wavy blonde hair that fell downward to her lower back. Her outfit choice of leather pants donned with a matching corset top left none of her figure to the imagination, an ode to her love of the genre.

Wherever Airi went, you followed, and when she proposed the idea of seeing her brother and his bandmates perform, you couldn’t pass up the opportunity—Not to mention the free front row tickets he offered.

It was clear Chifuyu heard his sister from the crowd, looking down at the two of you with an illustrious smile and gesturing a two finger salute. He inched back with the microphone taut in the grip of his left hand and sent off a cue to the rest of his bandmates. Music followed hastily after and he began to sing.

Throughout the whole show, your eyes remained locked onto the raven-haired drummer. You marveled at each and every ministration he made, how his demeanor seemed to switch with each passing song and how the sweat accumulated on his perfectly toned body. In your head, you could’ve cursed Airi for not telling you about him beforehand, he’s totally your type.

You bobbed your head along to the melody that flowed within your ears and it was evident to Airi that you were enjoying the show you formally told her you “probably wouldn’t enjoy.”

She leaned over to sonorously whisper-yell in your ear. “Having fun?” The expiration of her words practically fell to flat ears had you not seen her in your peripheral view. In all honesty, you were more-so focused on the aggression that sexy drummer displayed while he played. How did he not break the drumset? Surely, he was strong enough to do so.

“Huh?” You peered over at her, vacant eyes meeting her jaded ones. She gave you her signature allknowing look and turned back to face the band.

Soon enough, the music stopped and the venue was filled with its final cheers. The stage went ominously tenebrous and the rest of the audience filed out of the stadium, except for you and Airi.

“Wanna go chill backstage?” Airi proposed. She pointed her thumb in the direction of a hallway filled with staff. “Are we even allowed to?” you started. “The place is packed with security.”

Airi mirthfully elbowed you, that sly smile on her perfectly made-up face. “I’m family, they’ll understand.”

One thing you couldn’t knock about your best friend was her adventurousness. Truthfully, you were just as bad as her, yet a bit more wary of getting in trouble—Especially if the law was involved, but you liked fun. And this was definitely what you needed. “Show me the way then, Little Matsuno.”

And with that, the both of you had set foot on your way to heading backstage.

Which undoubtedly felt like the case until you found yourself stranded among other concertgoers and personnel that you lost sight of your friend. She couldn’t have gotten far so where the hell was she? You continued your search by calling her phone, walking in any direction to pick up the slightest amount of signal.

“Hey.”

The bellow of a deep voice stopped you dead in your tracks and you sheepishly looked up with silent hopes that you hadn’t gotten in it with the wrong person. Much to your dismay (Or maybe it was a blessing), the man you’d been eyeing all night stood tall above you. Long, wavy noir tresses sat at his wide shoulders to match his black tank top that was slightly rolled up at the hem, showing off his midriff and that delicious v-line. His toned and ink littered arms folded across his chest while an undistinguishable expression etched over his features.

“Uh, hi.” You blinked a few times in dubiousness at the circumstance you so gracefully landed yourself in. Proximal distance to his figure led you to tread backward a few steps until you were at a comfortable enough range to take him in fully.

He looked so fucking mean, thick eyebrows pursed together, and sharp, amber eyes narrowed upon your figure.

“What do ya think you’re doin’?”

You had half a mind to drop to your knees and show him what was on your mind, yet you remained to keep yourself where you stood, for his sake of course.

His eyes bored holes into your frame. Whereas you couldn’t keep up with his unwavering eye contact, he managed to take note of every little quirk about you. “Um.. I was looking for my friend.” Your throat felt dry as you began to speak. “She said I could come backstage—Her name’s Airi Matsuno, Chifuyu’s sister.” The words got quieter as you spewed them out. You weren’t sure if it was your nerves or the intimidation, he’s so much taller up close.

“Eh? Fuyu’s lil’ sis?” He looked behind him to one of his bandmates, that same one as before with the blond streaks and neck tattoo. It seemed as though every member had genes blessed by the deities up above. “Tora, does Fuyu have a sister?”

The man you come to realize as “Tora” affirms your claim, adding that he had just seen Airi and Chifuyu leave the venue.

“Damn it, Ai.” You thought to yourself as if she’d actually given one day to not be herself.

The drummer turns back to look at you, this time unfolding his arms and standing somewhat widely. His thick dark brows remained quirked in a perplexed manner. He leans down to meet your gaze, hands hidden in his pockets as he concludes. “Some friend you got there. She left ya all alone.”

“She does that sometimes.” You reply.

He straightened up back to his full height, his expression softening, and a slight crack of a smile on his lips. “Guess i’ll keep ya company ‘til she comes back.”

Any other day, your humility would’ve been disregarded to the back of your mind. In all actuality, you were discourteous and loved attention, yet the feeling of a celebrity seemingly stooping low enough for some lost, 20-something year old groupie in disguise, kept your modesty in perfect condition.

“Oh, you don’t have to-“

Your words were quickly cut off by his cold demeanor as he opened one of the doors in the narrow hallway beside him. “But I wanna. /Ven aqui/.“ Eyes looked into yours like daggers and you couldn’t quite tell if he were vexed at your facade or if he were just blessed with bedroom eyes.

You followed him into what seemed to be his greenroom. It’s complete with a set of drums on one side near the corner and a half opened window, and a leather couch in the middle, not to mention the rack of clothes on the other edge.

“Didn’t catch your name, though. You are?” He questioned, sitting at the drumset in front of you. You made yourself comfortable on the plush couch, pulling the hem of your pink bodycon down in hopes you don’t reveal too much.

“I’m Y/N. And you are?”

He raises an eyebrow then follows it with a hearty laugh. “You came to my show ‘nd ya don’t even know my name?” You felt heat rise to your cheeks in embarrassment, but he was right. You didn’t know any of the members aside from the obvious, Chifuyu.

“My friend dragged me here, I just go wherever she goes.” You retort, a cordial grin on your face. He adjusts his sitting position and spreads his legs slightly.

It’s coming. The urge to suck dick.

“Yeah? Name’s Baji. You can call me Keisuke though.”

He pulled the pair of drumsticks from his back pocket and quietly tapped away. “You’re cute.” Dexterously, he twirled one of the sticks between his fingers where you noticed his black lacquered nails paired with the skull-esque designs of the rings that adorned said digits. “You like a college student or something?” Heat spread across your cheeks at the comment. A band member calling you cute was not something you thought you’d experience tonight, but there’s lots you haven’t experienced yet.

“Mhm. It’s a lot though, I'm thinking of dropping out.” More calm your voice was, and he picked up on your energy, sending a stern glance your way.

“Nah, don’t do that.” The melodic tapping from the drumsticks halt. “Ya seem like a smart girl, don’t be like me.”

Curiosity overtakes you, causing you to press forward. “And what are you like, Keisuke?” His name tasted saccharine falling off your tongue and filling your ears with the sweetest music. Keisuke, Keisuke, Keisuke.

“Dropped out at 14, ran around with a few gangs, and now ‘m doing music.” His words register in his mind before he continues. “But ‘m makin’ good money now, maybe you should live like me a little.”

A giggle resonated within the room and he felt his heart swell at the cute laughter. He wasn’t quite sure what urged your joy but he returned it with a smile of his own. You truly do have the prettiest face. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

“Ya know..” His words slipped off his tongue like honey and in turn you gave him the most of your attention, curious eyes locked on his dismal bronze ones. “I got this beat I can’t get out my head. Can I get your opinion?” His expression was glazed over in calculation with a slight pat to his thigh that you seemingly picked up. Instinctively, your body moved on its own and replied to his silent call. As you nestled into his lap, you only hoped that this had been what he was asking for. “Mhm.” Your response was curt and barely escaped under the pressure of your breath.

Your back was pressed against his chest and your core was slotted over his thigh, a relatively intimate position despite the need for cordial relations. He started up on the drums, stirring up the common one-two, one-two beat that emphasized its focus on the round bass drum that sat at the bottom of the set. It was as if with each press to the drum pedal the muscle of his thigh dangerously tensed beneath your heat, eliciting surges of delirium and pleasure straight to the very source. It’s clear he knew what he was doing from the onsight of your glossy lips parting and the faintest decibel of a gasp leaving your lips.

“Y’like it?” Deep voice ghosted over your ear as he leaned in precariously close. “Y’sure it won’t sound better like this?”

The beat he originally created morphed into one of a sonorous, heavier tone. Your body vaguely rocked over his, your tits bouncing from the nefarious rising and falling of his leg in the sweetest, yet most sinister tandem with his flexing thighs.

And all restraint vanished from within you as you diligently rutted your hips. You felt embarrassed. Like a needy nuisance needed to be taken care of, yet again, your humility sat idly by and pride dwindled from your very being.

“That—That sounds nice.” Your reply was breathy and if you thought enough of this through, your little plan of passing your insatiability off as adjusting your position would’ve worked on him. But it didn’t.

The sultry, damp sensation he felt on his blackened denim pants told him otherwise. Baji chuckled to no one in particular, the sharp canines on display while he smirked mirthfully to himself. He’s had his fair share of girls practically throwing themselves at him, and still, you were the most fun to play with.

The flexing and relaxing of his muscles didn’t let up, as with your ruthless humping. You held tightly to his knees with the pressure only gradually increasing when you felt yourself crumbling in his hold.

On the verge of your awaiting orgasm, Baji’s lips press against the shell of your studded ear.

“I saw you starin’ in the crowd tonight—Couldn’t keep my eyes off that tiny lil’ dress you’re wearing.” He moved one hand from the drumset to snake over the front of your garment, calloused hands kneading at your soft and pert breasts. The movement was one of full dexterity. Your nipples ached as he pinched and rolled them between his fingers.

“Knew you weren’t wearin’ a bra.” his lips against your ear trailed down to your neck which caused the helplessly rutting of your core over his thigh, strikingly close to orgasm. You had managed to keep your whimpers low but due to proximity, you left nothing to be unheard. A harsh tug of your nipples pulled you from the hazed out state you were entranced in.

“Gotta tell Tora I won our little bet.”

False lashes fluttered with every move the both of you made. Your voice was soft as you responded, “You’re just so fucking fine, Couldn’t help myself.”

He was used to the attention. He’s a 6’0 rockstar with a checkered past — Any girl would fall for that cliche shtick, yet something within him wanted to toy with your naivety. Would you really believe anything he said?

“I don’t get much attention from fans, but you? You’re special.”

It was that moment that sent you over the edge, a lewd cry followed by your body convulsing, pretty face screwed up in pleasure, letting Baji know your release had hit you, and fucking hard at that.

“Oh ho? That did it for ya, huh?” He watched in awe at the sopping mess of his pants while allowing you to ride out your high completely before those same strong hands bunched your dress up at the hip.

You rested against his back for a while as stray pants waned themselves from your lips.

“Ya poor thing, I ain’t even get to finish my drummin.’” his hands left your tits as he rasped out the words and settled on turning you around to face him on his lap. “Sorry..” you meekly responded. An airy chuckle sounded itself from him as he whips out his throbbing hard length.

It should be illegal to be as thick as a fucking Coke can, yet there he was — The tip flushed a deep mauve, and pretty pearlescent beads of precum streaming down his cock and over the few veins that seemed to run along the shaft. The prettiest dick you’ve ever seen, and you stared in awe until the deep clearing of his throat caught your attention.

Pumping it shallowly, he pushed those cute fucking pink lace panties to the side, revealing your glistening and sticky folds to him. He prodded the tip at your hole, bullying your core that left you aching for his touch.

“Ride it for me, muñequita.”

With no hesitation, you sank yourself down onto his cock, carefully taking him in.

“Fuck—” The low whimper is sounded from you as you began to bounce yourself on his lap. He felt impossible to take and with your hands rested over his shoulders paired with his arms at your waist, slowly pushing you further down, you didn’t think you could take it. “That’s it, baby. Ride it like it’s yours.” He cooed, letting his head fall back as you got him off.

You bit at your plush bottom lip to elicit any moans from flying which reigned ineffective when you picked up pace and rolled your hips, allowing his cock to drag against that spongey spot within your walls that had your resolve weakening.

Obscenities and the reverberation of skin on skin bounced against the walls of his green room. You were tighter than any girl he’d ever been in and much cuter too.

Once you were able to fall into a comfortable rhythm of bouncing on his cock he hastily began to work toward his own release having grown tired of your saunterous riding.

He lifted you up off his length and turned you around so that you were bent over his drumset. “I know you were trying your best,” he followed up his words with a quick slap to your ass before aligning his cock with your slit once more, “But i’m gonna need better than that.”

Baji noticed the way you faltered once he built up his own pace, with more fervor than the previous. You almost fell forward with the trajectory of the thrusts and to his chagrin, your moans amplified.

“D-Deep! ‘S so deep!” You cried wantonly. You felt your guts get turned inside out with his vigor. A scoff was heard from him in response, the inked up hands that rested at your hips now filing up your body and hooking at your elbows, holding you back flush against him as he continued to hit harder within your walls.

You felt unsteady when his right hand trailed up to your neck and gripped at your jaw before his index and middle finger slipped past your lips into your mouth. The metal of the rings tasted metallic and felt cold against your tongue, those being the least of your concerns when you felt your high from previously coil right up within you once more.

Without warning, you were hit with your release that left you limp in his hold, his fingers retracting from your mouth and messily running down your fat bottom lip where he also smeared a mix of saliva and cherry oil gloss down your chin.

Just momentarily from the sight of how pretty you looked, convulsing and crumbling because of his doing, he followed suit and filled your insides in thick, hot spurts of his cum, drops dripping down your thigh when he continued to rut inside you, emptying himself of his need.

It took you both a while to settle down, his lips hungrily taking in your neck down to your shoulder.

“Was that deep enough for ya?” He rasped and haziness filled your system when you pant to respond. “I-“

Just before you could respond, there’s a knock at the door and a familiar voice accompanied.

“Y/N! You in here? I’m ready to leave!”

It’s Airi, loud and clear after her awaited reappearance.

“Shit.” Baji cursed under his breath. He pulled you off of him and bent you over slightly, fetching a thick black marker from the table beside him and holding the cap between his teeth.

The uncomfortable sensation of the felt tip on your ass trailing down to your thigh lasted mere seconds as you tried to make out the shapes you couldn’t see. “Here’s my number. Don’t forget me.”

He stood you up properly and fixed your skirt, sending you off with a pat to your ass.

“I’ll see you again, Keisuke?”

“Damn right you will.”

tags - @meena-in-a-nutshell @imkumichan @messofavs @aotdump @saaraunicorn @cloudnitee @saffronity @aasouthteranoswife @kageyama-i-want-tobiors @anahryal @withlovetengen @zuuki @keooooothings @bunnyyamor @koucaine @bluerskiees @ready2readagain @sarnghoe

+ a great big thanks to my moot ! @lovelysho thank you so much for beta reading my love !

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neocitylights · 14 days ago

Text

MARK LEE x READER

SUMMARY: As you move into the building, your mysterious neighbor’s music becomes a quiet—and secret—comfort to your heart, enough for you to send them an anonymous letter. When you unexpectedly meet Mark, your connection soon growing between late-night conversations and shared meals, you find yourself falling in ways you hadn’t expected. Curiously enough, as your worlds start to overlap, you realize that there’s more to Mark and your mysterious neighbor than you’ve ever imagined. GENRE: Romance, fluff, non-idol au, songwriter!Mark WORD COUNT: 9.1k WARNINGS: Cursing, suggestive themes

Moonlight welcomes you home as you finish yet another long day of seemingly endless lectures, the gleam slipping through the curtains of your living room as you slip off your shoes, dropping the heavy book bag by the door.

The apartment is quiet, as you’re coming home a little later than usual, and with a chaotic day behind you, all you need is a hot shower, a warm meal and the softness of your bed.

As you’re stripping your top off, halfway through the bathroom, you hear it—the soft, slow notes from a piano drifting through the walls of your neighbor’s apartment and into yours. The mysterious, upstairs neighbor, as you like to call them now.

It’s not the first time that the music makes its way into your place. Even though you’re yet to meet whoever resides right above you, with an impressive array of instruments at that, you’re always delighted to hear them play, especially during days like today where you’re exhausted both mentally and physically.

Today, you can recognize the melody, but can’t quite put your finger on which song it is.

Making a beeline for your bedroom instead, you sink into your bed, half-dressed as you let the sound take over your mind. A small smile tugs at the corner of your lips, your brain subconsciously filling the gaps as you start to hum the melody along.

Your mysterious neighbor and their music had slowly become a source of unexpected comfort to you.

Some days, you hear the delicate strumming of a guitar. Other days, the lightness of wandering piano notes. On special days though, you listen to the bold, intense riffs of an electric guitar instead. Every day, you welcome it, each time feeling a lullaby meant only for one night.

With the music still playing in the background, you follow through your routine in an almost dreamlike state. The mysterious neighbor plays long enough to last through your shower, unknowingly kind enough to give you the joy of having dinner with your own private live performance too.

As it stops, the silence almost feels awkward.

You can’t help but innocently imagine your neighbor, just a few steps away as they tuck in the instrument for the night, completely unaware of their unknown faithful audience.

The day is already drawing out to be a chaotic one.

As you dash out of your apartment in a rush, just barely hanging onto your bag and the coffee thermos in your hands, you mentally kick yourself for ignoring the alarm an extra time, fooling yourself that it was safe enough just for today.

You’re already unusually late, and to make matters worse, you’d dropped half of your notes as you were fumbling to lock your apartment and the elevator’s seemingly taking a lifetime to arrive at your floor.

A sigh escapes from your lips at the familiar chime of its opening doors.

You can’t help the clumsy commotion as you finally step into the cubicle, head down as you try to organize the mess of crumpled papers inside your bag, completely oblivious to the current company watching you with curious eyes.

It’s only when you literally bump into them that you finally look up, eyes wide in surprise. “Oh my God, I’m so sorry,” you start, stepping back with an apologetic glance. “I swear I didn’t see you here.”

The guy offers you a quick, friendly smile, shoving his hands into his jacket’s pockets as he backs away, giving you more space.

With a hint of a chuckle laced to his voice, he shakes his head. “No worries.”

Attentively, you glance at him with a discrete side-eye—quickly recognizing him as a fellow neighbor from a few late night lobby encounters, usually when you’re coming back from school after TA days. He looks a little different today, hair shorter and a few shades darker, though the laidback, somewhat shy vibe around him stays the same.

Since you’re still rather new to the building and haven’t met a lot of people your age yet, you can’t beat your curiosity whenever he’s around. It doesn’t help that he’s also undeniably cute, with a quiet sort of charm that only adds to his character.

As the elevator’s doors finally close, you clumsily attempt to adjust your bag again, just for your thermos to clatter against the floor as you fumble around the attached keyrings.

It rolls around for a second before your neighbor swiftly reaches down to grab it, soon handing it over to you with a small smile. “I’m guessing this is an essential for busy mornings, right?”

You laugh, feeling a little flustered as your cheeks warm up. “You’ve got no idea. Sorry again, I swear I’m more composed than this.”

“I know,” he says, offering a nod as his smile grows bashfully. “I’ve never seen you around this hour, so I’m assuming you’re probably late.”

You pause, caught off guard by his words.

Given that you’ve only exchanged brief glances and polite smiles here and there whenever you met, it’s a surprise to know he’s observant enough to have noticed your routine at all. It makes you wonder if he’s noticed other things too, as you have with him.

“Very late,” you finally respond, offering a rather chagrined smile. “Not a very smart decision to ignore your alarms for a few more minutes of sleep, I guess.”

Visibly very entertained with your chaos, your neighbor shrugs as a chuckle escapes from his lips. “We’ve all been there, don’t stress too much about it.”

The elevator stops before you can reply, both of you stepping out into the lobby once the doors open. There’s a brief pause between you before he clears his throat, looking somehow both hesitant and effortlessly poised as he opens the building’s door for you to walk through first.

“Hey, good luck today,” he says, shooting you a sheepish wink as he nods. “It’s gonna be a better day from now on, trust me.”

Taken aback by the rather endearing attitude, you laugh, nodding back at him in delight. “I trust you.”

As you start the walk toward the station, you find yourself briefly glancing back over your shoulder, just in time to catch him watching you for a second before he turns around and heads off.

With the aroma of your burning candles spreading through the living room, your Friday evening falls to a quiet, hardly earned, peaceful break from work and school.

After a week of quizzes, readings, papers and presentations, it’s the first time in a while that you don’t have to think about the next assignment on your to-do list or papers waiting to be graded.

Under the dim lights of your apartment, you’re comfortably curled up on the couch with a cozy blanket, savoring the brief weekend pause.

Almost as if they knew exactly what you needed to add to your little atmosphere, sensing just the perfect time, you hear the faint harmony of the mysterious neighbor’s piano keys through the walls. Tonight, the notes are slower, gentle, almost as warm as the candles’ flames.

Completely taken by the music once again, you only break out of your reverie as you spot your journal on the dining table. Suddenly inspired, you decide that it’s only fair that your neighbor knows how much you appreciated their music—even if you have no idea who they actually are, apart from the fact that they’re right over you.

Without a second thought, with a pen and paper in hands, you let your heart write.

Dear neighbor,

Even though I’m not sure who you are or if we’ve met, I wanted to thank you through this letter. I’ve heard you play for a while now, and I can’t tell you how much comfort and happiness your music brings me. It truly brightens my day, takes a weight off my shoulders at night, pulls me away from my hectic days and gives me a moment to just breathe and appreciate the beautiful things in life.

I don’t know if you’re playing for anyone, or if it’s just for yourself, but I hope you know that I’m always amazed by it and how much it matters. You make the building feel a little warmer, my apartment feel a little more like home. Please, keep playing to your heart’s desires.

Gratefully,

Your neighbor

It’s already past midnight as Mark settles at the quiet studio, only a handful of people left in the building after a long day of brainstorming meetings for the next label releases.

Staring at the blank pages of his beat-up notebook, Mark starts to feel the fatigue catch up to his body, brain most definitely clocked out for the day as he can’t seem to think of anything but the annoying ache on his neck.

As he taps his pen against the crumpled paper, a small, folded letter rests neatly tucked between its worn pages—one that he might or might not have read at least a dozen times since finding it under his door a few weeks ago. Needlessly to say, Mark was nothing but surprised by the letter, moved by the thoughtful, kind words written by his neighbor.

Every time he reads it, a rather satisfying warmth takes over his chest, as if the person who’d written it knew something deeply personal about him without even knowing who he was, or even his name.

Too absorbed in his thoughts, Mark startles as Haechan and Johnny burst into the studio, both laughing until the youngest notes his friend’s guarded face.

“You look suspicious,” Haechan starts, eyes playfully scanning the studio in distrust. “I hope you aren’t doing anything nasty around here. We use this studio too, you know.”

Mark rolls his eyes, closing the notebook with a sigh. “You really need to learn how to shut up sometimes, Haechan.”

Quietly taking in the scene, Johnny leans over Mark, curiously eyeing the piece of paper sticking out of his notebook, distinctly decorated with a red star sticker at the top. “What’s that?”

The two youngest follow Johnny’s finger, pointing at the notebook on Mark’s lap.

As Mark’s stomach drops, he quickly attempts to tuck the letter back inside, distracting his friends from catching a glimpse of it. “It’s nothing, just something I was scribbling on.”

“No way,” Haechan starts, turning to Johnny with the widest grin on his face. “Are you thinking what I’m thinking? Is that a love letter?”

“No,” Mark awkwardly cuts off, feeling his cheeks heat up under his best-friends’ scrutiny. “Who even sends love letters nowadays?”

Johnny scoffs, crossing his arms over his chest. “You would.”

“He fucking would,” Haechan repeats, eyes wide as if he’s having an epiphany. “Holy shit, you’re so corny, Mark.”

“I mean, Mark wasn’t the one making up excuses to stalk his mom’s employee every day, you know,” Johnny taunts, laughing when Haechan mocks an offended glance at his older friend.

Not able to resist their curiosity, knowing that he was eventually going to bend anyway, Mark sighs. “It’s a letter from my neighbor. Sometimes I play some music at home, whenever I’m stuck with something from here,” he explains quietly. “I guess they’ve been listening to it? I don’t know who they are but they left a letter to me a few days ago.”

Johnny and Haechan exchange a look, the latter letting out an incredulous laugh. “Your life is ridiculous. You got a love letter from your neighbor?”

“It’s not a love letter,” Mark argues, rolling his eyes. “It’s more of an… appreciation letter.”

Johnny nods, a knowing look taking over his face. “Can we read it? It’s fine if you don’t want us to, though.”

“It’s not fine.” Haechan frowns, a dramatic note to his voice. “What do you mean Mark got a love letter from his neighbor and we can’t read it?”

Mark does hesitate for a moment but ultimately hands the letter over to Johnny, watching his friend open the paper with careful fingers.

It’s funny to hear someone else read it. There’s a mix of embarrassment and a strange sense of satisfaction in his chest as Mark listens to Johnny’s voice say the words he’s read so many times by now, enough to have memorized it.

The letter sounds different—now that’s disconnected from him and no longer kept a secret, it definitely feels more real, more genuine.

“You make the building feel a little warmer, my apartment feel a little more like home,” Johnny finally reads, noticeably taken aback by it. “Please, keep playing to your heart’s desires.”

Haechan breaks the silence as Johnny finishes, looking as impressed as his older friend. “Damn. That was…”

“Actually really nice,” Johnny completes, a little more serious than Mark expects. “Do you have any idea who they are?”

Mark shakes his head, taking the letter back from Johnny’s hand and tucking it back inside his notebook. “No idea. I’m not sure if I want to know either.”

Haechan raises an eyebrow, grinning knowingly. “Are you really fine with never finding out who they are?”

For now, there’s something about the mystery that keeps it just for him. For now, Mark thinks that knowing might change the feeling, make it somehow less special. Besides, if the future wants him to know, then he’ll probably know.

As his fingers tap the notebook, almost as if sealing the secret inside of it, Mark nods.

“Maybe it’s better that way.”

A few hours into the evening, the small venue is already buzzing with energy, voices blending with the smooth, laidback background music of the cozy bar.

Mark’s not a stranger to the place, having attended a few open mics before with Johnny as a sidequest from his actual job. Today is a special day though—given Jaehyun’s giving a surprise secret performance of his new EP, it’s only fair of Mark to show his friend some support, especially after having worked on some of his songs together.

Besides, as a genuine music lover he does enjoy the atmosphere, the rawness of live music never failing to lift his mood even when he’s tired and overworked.

At the back of the bar, Mark waits for Johnny with a pint of beer in hand, his eyes trailing through the place as he watches a few artists cycling through with their instruments here and there.

Out of all things that could possibly happen tonight, Mark most definitely isn’t expecting to spot you there of all places.

Just a few feet away, you step by the bar with your friends, chatting and laughing as you approach the counter to place an order. He holds his breath for a moment, waiting for you to notice him as you briefly glance around. Convincing himself to play it cool, Mark swiftly turns his attention back to the bartender.

Just as his hand closes around his drink, he feels a presence stepping up beside him, a hand tentatively touching his arm.

“Hey neighbor,” you greet him, eyes bright in recognition as a smile tugs on your lips. “Seems like we’re running into each other everywhere lately, huh?”

Mark smiles back, feeling both glad and a bit nervous that you ultimately decided to approach him. “Seems like it, yeah. Though I’m a little surprised to see you here, to be honest.”

“Why?” You laugh, surprised. “I know it didn’t seem like it that day, but I am a normal person, you know.”

“Shit, no, I don’t mean it that way,” Mark objects right away, wide-eyed as he fumbles with the glass of beer in his hands. “It’s just that I’ve been here a lot so I kinda know the crowd, I guess?”

You hum, moving to lean over the counter right beside him with a frown between your eyebrows. “I don’t think we’ve ever introduced ourselves properly, have we?”

As you give him your name, reaching out a hand to him with an amused smile on your lips, he can’t help awkwardly taking the handshake. When the hold lingers for a second longer than expected, Mark realizes he’s holding your gaze for just as much.

Playing it off with a cough, he pulls back to clumsily gesture toward the stage. “So, do you know anyone… you know, performing tonight?”

“Not really. My friends found this place, I just thought it’d be cool to check it out,” you explain, curious eyes glancing around. “What about you? If you’ve been here before, I bet you know someone.”

“Yeah, my friend Jaehyun is actually doing a few songs tonight.” Mark rubs the back of his neck with a timid smile. “Just thought it would be cool to support him.”

“That’s nice of you,” you say, face softening with a small smile. “I’ll check out him too, then.”

He almost wishes you don’t.

Though Jaehyun’s got this long distance on-and-off thing with a girl he met during one of his concerts, the man is not only mad talented but also has insane looks, a combo that Mark’s seen girls fall for countless times by now.

Either way, he just smiles back with an appreciative nod. “He’s crazy good, you’ll definitely love his music.”

A call from your friends cuts the conversation short and as you glance over your shoulder, they’re waving you over with a handful of drinks.

You seem to hesitate a little, looking back at him with an apologetic smile. “Sorry, I probably should get back to my friends.”

Hoping he doesn’t look too disappointed, Mark shakes his head. “It’s all good, it was nice seeing you around anyway,” he starts, pausing for a second before casually reaching out for his phone. “I was thinking if I could get your number? It’s fine if you don’t—”

You gently take the phone off his hands, visibly holding back a smile as you start typing. As he catches a glimpse of the screen, Mark chuckles at the door emoji added next to your name.

Before you disappear into the crowd with your friends, you give him one last glance over your shoulder, eyes locking onto his own as your smile widens.

“I’ll see you, Mark.”

The following days, Mark spends way too much time debating himself whether to text you. As a well-kept secret in his mind, he’s also been obsessively replaying your interaction ever since that night, a little taken aback by his own sudden interest in you.

It’s not like he hasn’t ever let his eyes wander whenever you coincidentally met around the building, but up until that night you were only that—just one of his neighbors, a pretty girl he happened to run into every once in a while.

Now, curiosity is getting the best of him and Mark can’t help reading too much into the situation.

Home earlier than usual, he sits at the couch with his guitar on his lap, though now long forgotten in his reverie. As he stares at your name in the contact list, Mark reminds himself that you gave him your number after all.

So he hopes that means something, especially when finally hitting send on the message he’d backspaced one too many times.

5:11PM Hey neighbor Just found this new place with crazy good food and music in the neighborhood Any chance you’re free tonight?

5:15PM Hi Mark! I’m so sorry I’d love to but I’m stuck at uni until late today Rain check?

Though the anticipation in his chest crumbles to disappointment, Mark plays it off. You hadn’t exactly said no, so he settles to make the interaction as casual as possible, just about to type a quick reassurance when another text pops up.

5:17PM Actually If you’re free, I could use some company here I’ll buy you dinner if you save me from work for a few minutes

No more than an hour later, Mark’s walking through the campus with two brown paper bags in hand, hoping that a classic combo is a safe enough bet for you to like it. Nearing the library, he spots you waving at him by the building’s steps with a growing smile on your face.

“Hey Mark,” you greet, walking over with curious eyes at the bags in his hands. “I thought dinner was on me?”

“It seemed like you needed a break,” Mark points, giving an awkward chuckle. “It’s not fancy or anything so don’t worry about it.”

The sun’s just about to set as you walk him to a nearby bench, in a spot secluded enough that there’s only a couple of students around, mostly rushing past without a single glance.

Accepting the bag from his hands as you sit down, your eyes light up at the sight of the huge burger and fries. “Mark, I could kiss you right now,” you start, taking a single fry as you grin at him. “This is exactly what I needed.”

He chuckles, trying to mask the impact of your words despite the warmth spreading through his neck. “I wasn’t sure what you liked so I hoped the basics were a safe choice.”

“This looks way better than I was planning,” you confess in between your bites. “You seriously saved me from going insane.”

“Hey, I don’t think I’ve asked what you study.” Mark frowns, trying to remember if he’s ever noticed something that could’ve hinted at it.

“I’m doing a masters in political science,” you answer, chuckling timidly as his face shifts to an impressed look. “I’m also doubling as a teaching assistant for undergrad, hence why I’m still here grading assignments and going crazy.”

“That’s amazing,” he replies, a smile tugging on the corner of his mouth. “How do you like it? It sounds like hard work.”

Rolling your eyes, you lean back on the bench with a groan, momentarily forgetting about the food. “It definitely seemed easier when I was applying but I do love it. I’m also really good at it, even if my thesis runs me to the ground sometimes.”

“I bet you are.” Mark nods, voice laced with a playful touch. “I hope you don’t take this the wrong way but you seem like the type who’s got it all under control.”

You laugh, shaking your head. “I’m glad you already forgot about the last time we met back home,” you say, glancing over at him with curious eyes. “What about you? What do you do, Mark?”

Suddenly feeling a flicker of self-consciousness in the back of his brain, Mark hesitates for a second. Even though his job sounds fancy to most ears, people usually recognizing him as a writer of sorts, it almost sounds comical when compared to what you do. Strangely enough, despite his genuine love for music, it’s not the first time Mark feels small over it.

As he rubs the back of his neck, the answer sounds as ordinary as possible. “It’s kinda all over the place, actually. Mostly creative stuff, I guess.”

You raise an eyebrow, visibly intrigued by the vague response. “It sounds like you’re a secret agent but can’t actually tell me the truth. Am I right?”

Mark smiles sheepishly, relieved at your easy acceptance. “To be honest, I feel like I’d be terrible at that,” he says with a grimace. “I think I’m decent at my actual job, though.”

You hum softly, seemingly still interested despite his awkwardness. “Well, you can tell me all about it later.”

As you effortlessly move the conversation by mentioning the open mic, not leaving your love for Jaehyun’s songs out, the evening soon settles upon you. There’s a whole lot Mark knows about you now—from your favorite songs to your favorite students, the places you dream traveling to, even childhood stories.

When you finally walk back to the library, it’s late enough that the campus is completely quiet. As Mark stands a few steps down from you at the same stairs again, a strange sense of comfort warms his chest.

“Are you sure you don’t need me to wait for you?” he asks for a second time, watching you with a hint of concern.

You sigh, shaking your head with an amused glance towards him. “I told you it’s fine. My friend’s already waiting for me at her place, anyway.”

Mark nods, reluctantly agreeing. “Text me so I know you’re safe?”

You smile softly, nodding back. “I promise.”

Moving closer, you lean over him from the few steps up and press a gentle kiss to his cheek, lingering for a second too short. Mark swears that his skin is on fire, the spot tingling even after you pull back. There’s a quiet pause before you turn around, giving him a final wave before disappearing into the building.

Pleasantly surprised with how comforting and fun the last-minute meeting with Mark was, the details of the night silently stuck with you for the next few days.

Though it seemed like a simple gesture then, you’d completely turned your brain off from the stress of your routine for a few hours, instead staying immersed in your own growing intrigue about him. There was something undeniably sweet and endearing about your neighbor, leaving you craving for more time to know him better.

Admitting to yourself that maybe you do want to see Mark again, you also want to repay his gentle favor.

When you text him an impromptu dinner invite at your place, secretly anticipating his answer with nervous eyes glued to the screen, you’re most definitely not expecting a knock at your door just a few minutes later.

Despite the casual stance, his hands stuffed into the pockets of his hoodie, Mark looks slightly out of breath as he stands outside your place. “Uh—hey, neighbor.”

“Do you live next door?” you joke, stepping aside to let him into your apartment. “You surprised me. I was waiting for you to reply to my text first.”

“You caught me.” Mark shrugs, slipping his shoes off with a bashful smile. “Did I come too early? I can come back later if you want.”

Leading him inside, you gesture towards your small table, already set with the ridiculous amount of pizza you accidentally ended up baking to stress relief. “You’re actually just in time. Think you can handle the consequences of my poor measuring skills?”

He bursts into a laugh, taking in the scene with wide eyes. “Wow, this is… it feels like an italian restaurant in here.”

“I feel like you’re making fun of me but I’ll let it slide because you’re a first timer around here,” you tease, pushing him towards a seat at the table. “Sit down, I’ll help you.”

Both settled in, as the food’s plated by you under Mark’s protests, the conversation naturally flows.

“So, I was thinking,” you start carefully, watching out for his reaction. “You said you’re into creative stuff, right? Does that include writing?”

Mark looks slightly surprised for a second, then opens a smile. “Kind of. I have this habit of writing down random thoughts, stuff that I see outside whenever I go out, you know?”

“Like journaling?” you ask, pausing between a few bites with your interest piqued.

“You could call it that.” He nods, thoughtfully running a hand through his hair. “Most of the time it turns to a few loose bits of stories. Like, scenes that play in my head.”

“I think I’ve figured out your job,” you say, giving him a playful side-eye at the visible tension on his face. “I’m pretty sure that you’re some best-seller ghost writer. Maybe a pen name writer or something.”

“I guess I can’t tell you then,” he teases, a contrast to his shy smile. “What about you? Aren’t you writing a thesis? That’s some serious writing if you ask me.”

Despite the excitement, you can’t help an exhausted groan at the thought of your own writing. “It seems easier than looks that’s for sure,” you reply with a nod. “Like I said, I love it and I’m actually nailing it… but I do have a breakdown over it every two weeks or something.”

Taking your answer as a cue, Mark unexpectedly tosses a few questions here and there, leaving you a little stunned at how effortlessly he seemed to ponder over your study. With him attentively hanging onto your every word, you almost catch yourself giving him a long-winded lecture about the subject.

“Let’s stop talking about this or I’ll never shut up,” you whine, noticing the food’s nearly done. “We’re talking about me too much.”

Mark chuckles softly, shaking his head. “You know I don’t mind,” he says, eyes wandering around your small place for a moment until stopping at your bookshelf. “I’m a little curious about what you’ve got there. Would you mind if I check it out?”

“Not at all,” you answer, gesturing for him to step closer for a better look. “It’s a chaotic collection, though. There’s pretty much a bit of everything in there.”

As he stands in front of your mess of a bookshelf, Mark runs his fingers through a few spines, attentively eyeing the titles. “I don’t really know a whole lot about books but I can spot some classics here.”

You nod, moving closer to stand beside him. “I haven’t read a few of these in a long time.”

Glancing over with a knowing smile, he gives you a playful nudge. “Any recommendations?”

Pausing for a second, you briefly mull over a few options before settling on a shorter one, the book's cover instantly earning a laugh out of Mark as you hand it over to him. Though as he reads the title, his gaze turns pensive and you can’t help a fond smile from growing on your lips.

“You can have this one,” you say quietly, Mark breaking out of a trance as he turns to look at you again. “Tell me what you think of it later.”

Mark offers a soft smile, tapping the cover with his fingers. “I'll trust your judgment,” he murmurs, eyes alight with a playful glint. “Maybe I should let you read some of my stuff, then.”

“Maybe I have already,” you tease, arms crossing over your chest as you stare him right back. “If you’re a writer under a pen name, you could be the author of any of these books as far as I know.”

“I’m not that secretive about my writing, I promise.” He smiles, though a bit guarded. “I just don’t really like sharing all of it.”

The conversation lingers between you for a moment, your mind completely taken by Mark’s duality. As you try to figure him out, the lines that seem to draw his persona get more and more blurry.

Though there’s something effortlessly cool and laidback about him, Mark’s still shy and a little reserved. He’s guarded, but also somehow open to talk about anything and everything. In a way, it feels like a nice balance, but you can’t help but wonder if there’s any missing pieces to him that you can’t see now.

The sudden ring of his phone stops you from taking up on the offer of reading whatever he wanted you to.

Mark keeps looking at you apologetically as a Johnny talks to him, visibly frustrated with the conversation despite the usual easygoing tone lacing his voice.

When the call wraps up, he tucks the phone into his hoodie again with a sigh. “I'm really sorry,” he starts, sounding nothing but sincere. “Apparently something happened at work and I’m the only one who can fix it.”

Rolling your eyes, you smile dismissively. “It’s fine, Mark. I hope everything’s okay, though.”

Once at your doorway, Mark hesitates for a second, gaze softening as he turns around to step closer to you. “I’ll make it up to you, alright?” He smiles, offering a firm nod. “We’ll talk later.”

With your face suddenly on fire, you dazedly return the smile, unsure of what to reply. “Alright.”

In the silence of your apartment later that night, you couldn’t shake the feeling that maybe, just maybe, something had shifted between you.

The aftermath of your last encounter is anything but ideal.

With both of you caught up in your own deadlines and work-fueled late nights, even the chances of casually running into each other around the building seemed to be far-fetched over the coming days.

While you were wrapped up in a blur of revised drafts and emails from your advisor, unbeknownst to you, Mark himself was occupied with the very same matter that interrupted your shared dinner, struggling with last-minute changes for an artist’s upcoming project.

Though there was little time between you, the tenderness of Mark’s promise still lingered with you, expectation building in your heart at the thought of seeing him again.

It’s still early in the morning as you wait for the elevator at your floor, relieved that another hectic week is finally over. As you silently plan to ignore your to-do list for the weekend to catch up with the last episodes of a show you’ve been procrastinating on, the doors open to reveal Mark already inside.

Leaning against the wall with wired earphones around his neck, he instantly straightens up upon seeing you, a sheepish smile curling on his lips. “Hey, neighbor.”

Offering a smile back, you step by his side with a gentle glance. “Hi, Mark.”

As you stand there for a moment, there’s an edge of hesitation that both seem to notice, then choosing to speak at the same time.

“Sorry I haven’t—”

“I’m sorry for not—”

Both of you pause again, sharing a surprised laugh for a second before Mark motions for you to go first.

“I just want to say sorry for not keeping in touch these days,” you confess, sighing apologetically. “I think you know already, but things got crazy with my deadlines and I completely lost the timing to reach you back after dinner.”

“It’s okay.” He shakes his head, offering a warm-hearted chuckle. “I’m really sorry too, I know I promised to make it up to you but things just… kind of piled up. I kept meaning to text you, but something always came up.”

You nod in understanding, giving a meek shrug as your hands tighten around the strap of your bag. “It’s okay with me too.”

“So… what time are your classes ending these days?” Mark asks offhandedly, clearing his throat as he looks ahead. “Like, today?”

“Today?” you ask, confused despite your amusement. “Around six, I think?”

With a nod, his answer sounds so quiet that you almost miss it. “That’s good,” he mumbles, almost as if to himself before he glances at you again, smiling lightly. “Good luck with your classes today, then.”

The elevator chimes softly as it reaches the lobby, again drawing the conversation to an end before you can answer. As you step out, Mark keeps a small distance behind you, a subtle hesitation in his step once you’re both outside ready to part ways.

You exchange quick goodbyes, each turning toward your own direction.

As he’s a few steps down the street, you call out for his name, voice carrying a teasing edge. “I’ll see you later, neighbor.”

Much to your delight, you do see Mark later—at your university, no less, waiting for you outside the humanities building. Though it’s easy to spot him, the button-up and tank-top combo somehow making him stand out, you can’t hide the shock upon recognizing his familiar figure casually standing around, offering a wave as he spots you.

You quickly close the few steps towards him, a confused smile playing on your lips. “Oh my God, it’s really you. I thought I was crazy for a second.”

Mark laughs, cheeks hinting a blush despite his nonchalant nod. “I was just around the area and thought I’d swing by to check if you needed company home.”

“I do,” you say, still surprised. “I hope you didn’t wait for too long.”

“Nah, don’t worry about it.” He smiles, glancing at you with warm eyes. “Ready to go?”

You hum softly. “Yeah.”

Still caught off-guard by his thoughtfulness, you’re most definitely not expecting Mark to quietly offer his hand out towards you. It’s a gentle, open gesture and though he does it very naturally, there’s a hint of apprehension on his face, as if he’s unsure of your reaction.

Without a word, you immediately slip your hand into his, heart thumping in your ears.

As both of you set off to the station, a strangely familiar sense of intimacy sets between you during the walk.

The subway is typically packed, chaos all around you with a mob of wide-eyed tourists and aggravated locals fighting for space, loud voices and chit-chat carrying out all the way through the tight space. At the end of a car, you squeeze into a quieter spot as Mark stands right in front of you, close enough to subtly tower over your figure.

Your eyes discreetly take in his frame, pausing at the glasses hanging on the collar of his tank-top. “I don’t think I’ve seen you in glasses yet,” you say, raising an amused eyebrow at him. “Don’t tell me this is just for aesthetics, Mark.”

“I kinda wish it was, actually,” he argues, grimacing. “I mostly wear contacts, though. I keep breaking or losing all my glasses.”

Carefully pulling them out, you reach over and gently place the glasses on his face, regarding him for a second with a grin. “It looks cute, you should wear them more.”

As if he needs something to do with his hands, Mark adjusts the frames on his face, his cheeks heating up in a faint blush. “Oh—yeah, I guess. Thank you?”

The playful glint in your eyes goes unnoticed by him, grin widening at how endearing his flustered reaction is. “You’re welcome,” you say, leaning in just enough to make him look down at you again. “The blush looks cute on you, too.”

“Come on,” Mark chides, huffing a surprised, timid laugh. “Don’t do that to me.”

As your curiosity moves on to the wired earphones still wrapped around his neck, your fingers graze the cord before you take an earbud, slipping into your ear with a pointed look at him. Mark instantly takes the hint, picking the spare one before reaching over for his phone, scrolling through until a smooth beat starts playing.

Absorbed into the music, you don’t even notice Mark taking a step closer to avoid the flow of people around you, one of your hands subconsciously moving to steady him by holding onto his waist.

The songs blend into each other for a few stations as both of you focus on the playlist instead, sneaking playful glances at each other every so often.

“So you’re a bit of a rockstar, huh?” he asks after a while, smiling warmly at the confusion on your face over his sudden remark. “It’s just that you seemed to vibe with the rock stuff more than I expected.”

You raise an eyebrow, smiling back with a hint of challenge in your eyes. “Maybe I just like your taste in music.”

Mark chuckles, running a hand through the back of his neck. “Not gonna lie, that kinda makes me feel good about myself,” he says, earning a genuine laugh from you. “I’ll link you up to my playlist, then.”

“Don’t pay too much attention to me next time,” you chide, feigning a frown despite the playfulness in your eyes.

He shakes his head, voice sounding nothing but sincere as his fingers brush lightly against your cheek, raising your chin up just a tiny bit. “I’ll always pay attention to you.”

Just as his words sink in, the conductor’s cracked voice finally announces your station, leaving you silently grateful for the chance to collect yourself, your burning cheeks thankfully going unnoticed by Mark.

As he takes your hand again, you both move through the small crowd at the platform, the cool night air soon welcoming you outside over the short walk to the building. Though it feels shorter than usual, you still hang onto Mark’s stories with his friends, Johnny and Donghyuck, invested in the mischievous tidbits of their friendship shared on the way.

At the elevator, you stand beside him for a second time in the day.

Except that this time, leaving with a quick kiss to his cheek, you know exactly what Mark means to you.

Mark can’t help but read the letter a little differently now.

As an awkward mix of comfort and uncertainty grows in his heart at every word, not even the refuge of his studio feels enough to ease the tension of his thoughts.

The feeling that you’re the author of the message that he’s been obsessed with for the past couple of months comes with a weight that Mark hasn’t been quite sure how to deal with yet. The kindness laced to the letter already felt way too personal then, but now, it carries a sense of intimacy that feels directly connected to you.

It makes him feel a little silly too, realizing that you’ve entirely known him all along, nonetheless unknowingly witnessing the exact pieces that Mark held close to himself. Still, despite his ongoing conflict, he does marvel at the serendipity of the situation.

Lost in thought, Mark barely notices Johnny sidling over until the oldest takes a seat beside him at the mixing table, raising an eyebrow at the paper in his hands. “Reading the mystery letter again?”

“Sorry,” he chuckles humorlessly, avoiding his friend’s gaze. “I know I’ve been too hung up on this thing.”

“I don’t know what you’re apologizing for,” Johnny huffs, offering an odd look to his friend despite the playfulness of his words. “You got a letter from a mysterious neighbor. So what?”

Mark pauses, clicking his tongue as he finally looks up at Johnny. “Actually… it might not be that mysterious anymore, I guess.”

Johnny’s eyes widen in genuine surprise, interest suddenly piqued. “Are you telling me you found out who wrote your love letter?”

“Remember the girl you saw me talking to at Jaehyun’s open mic?” Mark asks, fingers nervously fiddling with the letter as Johnny nods. “We’ve been kinda hanging out lately and she’s… you know, also my neighbor.”

His friend blinks, visibly impressed by the unexpected twist. “Damn, Haechan is right.” Johnny snorts, a knowing grin soon taking over. “Your life is fucking ridiculous, Mark.”

“I’m not really sure it’s her, though,” he counters, shifting uncomfortably in his seat. “I mean, I think it could be. The way she talks to me sort of reminds me of how the letter is written. It’s just… I don’t know.”

“Then ask her,” Johnny offers, as if he’s stating the obvious. “What’s the worst that could happen? You’re already talking to each other anyway.”

“Yeah, but what if it’s just me wishful thinking?” Mark shrugs, a sigh escaping his mouth. “I don’t want to confuse her with my shit. I actually like her a lot, Johnny.”

As brotherly as ever, the oldest lets out a quiet chuckle, regarding his friend with attentive eyes. “You’re overthinking it, Mark,” Johnny chides softly. “If it’s her, great for you, but if it’s not, then it’s just a story you can tell.”

At the reassuring words, Mark turns the idea around in his head. Deep down, he knows that his hesitation says more about him than you—after all, finding out the truth means that he’s vulnerable, parts of him that even he can’t understand yet exposed. Mark also knows that you haven’t given him anything worth doubting your sincerity.

It’s actually quite the opposite, given he hasn’t felt so oddly understood and seen in a long time, despite how good he is at his job and how well he’s perceived by the people around him.

Considering Johnny’s input in the brief moment, Mark eventually nods. “I’ll think about it, promise.”

“If she got to know you as well as we do, I know she likes you just as much,” Johnny finishes, giving an encouraging pat to his shoulder. “Just make sure to get out of your head a little, alright?”

Taking one last look at the letter before tucking it away, nerves pleasantly buzzing in his chest, Mark decidedly acquiesces.

What’s the worst that could happen anyway?

The music starts almost shyly at first, chords soon carrying through the walls softly and unassuming.

You pause mid-motion, fingers hovering over the keyboard of your laptop as your brain instantly loses the next few lines of your assignment. It finally dawns on you that your mysterious neighbor has returned—at the same time as you realize that you hadn’t noticed their absence at all, for a while now.

As always, you can’t help but love the unknown melody though it strangely stirs something bittersweet in your heart, somewhat apologetic over not feeling their disappearance enough.

It makes you think of the letter.

Did your neighbor read it? What did they think of it? Did it mean anything to them?

It’s a given that your thoughts also wander to Mark, the significance of your growing relationship definitely not lost as you slowly recognize how his presence has filled so much of your mind lately, so much of your days.

It almost feels like the song’s tenderness is engraved onto your brain once it fades away, over as suddenly as it started. As the weight of the silence settles in, you feel stupidly torn between the comfort you’d found and the one you’d forgotten.

Mark 7:23PM Hey rockstar I’m home Kinda want to hear your thoughts on this Care to have a listen?

It’s an unusually quiet Saturday evening for you.

At the buzz of your phone, Mark’s name lighting up the screen for a brief second, you take a pause from your book. Though seeing his name doesn’t surprise you, given you’ve been texting back and forth all day, your curiosity immediately takes over as you read through the cryptic messages followed by a download link.

7:24PM You’re home? I hope you aren’t scamming me 😛

Since Mark had to suddenly cancel the plans you’d made earlier in the week due to work, you’re eager to see him, especially now as the university’s break nears by a couple of days. Before you can text him to come over though, another message comes through.

Mark 7:25PM Please listen to it baby

As your heart leaps at the reply, you’re quick to follow his request.

Then, Mark’s suddenly singing to you.

The guitar chords are unmistakable to your ears. It’s the very same melody played by your mysterious neighbor a few nights ago, except the sound’s definitely richer now, crystal clear with no walls in the way to hold back its softness. His voice feels incredibly tender, warm and light like a hug, almost as if he’s poured his soul into it.

A shiver runs through your body as realization finally hits you—all this time, Mark has been your mysterious neighbor, the very one you’d sent a secret letter to, your unknown comfort presence.

You’re not even properly thinking when rushing upstairs, urgently knocking on the door of the apartment right above yours.

As it swings open, one look at him is enough for you to throw your arms around Mark’s neck, catching him by surprise by pressing your lips against his. It takes a second for him to react, his own arms soon wrapped around your waist to pull you flush against his chest. As he blindly steps back inside, Mark kicks the door closed before deepening the kiss, both hands at the back of your head.

You’re not sure how long it lasts but when you pull away, both of you light-headed and breathless, it still doesn’t feel long enough.

With flushed cheeks, Mark sighs in a mix of wonder and disbelief. “Wow, this is… wow,” he manages, chest still heaving. “What’s going on?”

The dazed look on his face earns a laugh from you, especially as it pairs with his messy hair and disheveled clothes. Completely endeared by his reaction, you lean closer again, brushing a quick, feather-light kiss against Mark’s lips before he can even react.

“You’re my mysterious neighbor,” you start, voice soft with admiration as your hands cup his cheeks. “You’re the one who’s been playing music all this time.”

He gives you a small smile, subtly leaning into your hold. “You’re the one who wrote the letter.”

“This is crazy, Mark,” you say, huffing at the absurdity of the situation in both disbelief and amazement. “I can’t believe you’re the person I’ve been obsessed with since I moved in.”

His brows raise slightly, a teasing glint replacing the warmth in his eyes. “You’ve been obsessed with me?”

“You have no idea how much I loved listening to you.” You smile unabashedly, fingertips gently brushing at his cheeks. “I was always so happy whenever I came home and you’d just start playing out of nowhere. It felt like you knew exactly when I needed your music, you know.”

As his face softens, Mark watches you for a second. “Did you really mean it?” he asks, voice quieter. “The letter you sent me… did you mean all of that?”

Meeting his gaze, you nod without hesitation. “I wouldn’t have written it if I didn’t.”

As he wraps his arms around you in the warmest, heartfelt hug, Mark pulls back just enough so his lips are meeting yours again, the slow kiss melting your body against his own.

Though pulling yourself away from Mark feels like a challenge, as you breathlessly step back from his hold, your eyes are immediately taking in every detail around.

Sometimes, you’d foolishly envision your mysterious neighbor’s apartment, wondering how different it could be from your own. So it feels surreal standing there now and realizing that everything feels very, very Mark. It’s almost like the place pieces together parts of him that you hadn’t quite figured out yet.

An entire wall of vinyls and CDs, a few collectible toys here and there on the shelves, instruments all around his living room—all of it explains so much about him.

Walking over to check his collection much like he did with your books, you shoot him a curious glance. “So you’re a musician?”

“You could say that.” Mark frowns, pausing for a second before he sighs. “I mean, I work with music but I’m actually just a songwriter for a record label.”

Your eyes light up, a gasp escaping from your lips. “So I was right when I said you were a writer,” you reply, satisfaction taking over your face. “Did you write the song you sent me?”

He nods, feeling surprisingly at ease despite having spent half of the day restless over the recording. “Yeah, it was me,” Mark answers, chuckling at your enthusiasm. “You didn’t tell me what you’d think of it yet.”

“Are you kidding? The fact you’re my mysterious neighbor wasn’t the only thing that made me attack you just now,” you joke as he bursts into a laugh. “I do wonder who it was about, though.”

Mark raises an eyebrow, his lips twitching in amusement. “You think I’m going to tell you that easily?”

With a knowing grin, you silently turn back to scanning the rows of albums in his shelves again. As he steps behind you, Mark specifically reaches out for a CD, your eyes curiously scanning the cover.

“It’s only fair giving you a recommendation too, right?” he muses, smiling gently. “A rock classic for a rockstar seems fitting enough.”

The subtle implication laced to his words make your smile widen, album still in your hands as you glance at him over your shoulder. “Would you sing it for me if I asked?”

Mark hesitates, though seemingly more out of confusion than anything else. “Like… right now?”

As you turn around to face him, there’s a hint of reassurance on your face. “You don’t really have to, but I’d love to hear it with no walls between us this time.”

There’s a touch of confidence to the way Mark leads you to his couch, a hand on the small of your back until he settles beside you with a guitar on his lap. It’s probably the prettiest you’ve ever seen him, dark hair sitting above his eyes and glasses perched on his nose, the little moles on his face calling you for a kiss.

The silence between you is soon filled by the guitar, Mark strumming the familiar melody with an ease that you can’t help amaze at. The softness of his voice embraces you again, anticipation growing with every word between your shared glances.

With the last chord drawing the song to a close, you’re the one pulling the guitar away before leaning over, kissing Mark again as he welcomes you closer.

“So, you and me,” he starts, nose brushing against yours as you hum, smiling against his mouth. “Are we really doing this? For real now?”

Your heart has never felt so full and assured, no hesitation to your answer.

“We’re doing this.”

The crowd’s applause slowly settles as Mark leaves the stage.

There’s a mix of adrenaline and contentment simmering in his chest, heart still racing as he clutches his guitar closer, taking one last look at the familiar atmosphere—for the first time, not as a mere spectator, but as a performer.

As your voice breaks through his high, Mark turns around just in time to put the guitar away before you leap into his arms, kissing him so deeply as if you haven’t seen him for weeks.

A wide smile takes over your face once pulling away, excitement practically spilling over from your eyes. “Oh my God, you were so good!”

He grins, instinctively reaching for your waist to hold you close. “You think so?”

“I know so,” you gush, expression softening for a second. “I’m so proud of you, baby. It was really incredible, you killed it.”

“I don’t think I could’ve done it without you,” he confesses gently, a contrast to his firm gaze. “If you hadn’t insisted so much… I think I’d still be stuck in my head about it, you know.”

“You were the one up there performing, not me,” you argue, leaning closer to press a quick kiss to his cheek. “It was all you, your music and your talent.”

Mark shakes his head, a chuckle escaping from his mouth as he closes his arms around your shoulders, pulling you into a warm embrace. “You’re crazy,” he murmurs, brushing a kiss to your forehead. “Thank you for not letting me give up on this.”

As you pull back from his hold to meet his eyes, a playful smile curls on your lips. “I take my thanks in the form of take-out.”

He just laughs, nodding softly. “Let’s go home, then.”

Just like that, under a galaxy of stars in the sky and the warmth of a summer evening, Mark lets you guide him back home.

#mark lee #mark lee x reader #mark x reader #nct #nct 127 #nct dream #nct fanfic #mark lee fanfic

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pickingupmymercedes · 6 months ago

Text

Small firsts - Lewis Hamilton

Lots of fluffs. 10 of them to warm our hearts this rainy weekend.

request: "'All these little things' made me think of the small moments that are milestones in a relationship but aren't celebrated as such. Maybe, you could do something like that?"

pairing: Lewis Hamilton x Reader!

wordcount: +4K

a/n: Writing these warmed my heart. Celebrate the small moments guys, they make the path worth it

Also there's +20 more fluffs just like these ones here - Ways to say I love you & Ways to say I love you pt. 2 - and here - All these little things & All these little things pt. 2 .

As always, I'm open for feedback, come say hi!

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The first time he played a personal song of his to you

Lewis's strumming sounds on his guitar drifted out onto the balcony, a melody muffled by the crash of the ocean on Monaco's shores. You sat on one of the plush chairs, bathed in the soft glow of the sunset, your laptop open and fingers flitting across the keyboard.

The sound had become a familiar soundtrack to evenings with him.

Lewis poured his emotions into his music, something he’d usually only share with those closest to him. You'd heard him play snippets so far, familiar tunes or warm-up riffs, but never a complete, original song, not yet.

Not until a melody caught your attention, something unfamiliar. It was softer, melancholic yet strangely hopeful, with a recurring guitar line that tugged at something.

You paused your work, peaking from the laptop you saw Lewis playing on the couch across the space, his face half colored by the remaining lights half in the dark shadows.

His eyes were closed, his brow furrowed in concentration as his fingers danced across the guitar strings. But as the song was about to reach what seemed to be a chorus, he glanced up, his gaze meeting yours, a soft smile tugged at the corner of his lips.

He stopped playing, the silence echoing for a moment before he spoke, his voice a low murmur. "Didn't know you were an audience."

"It's beautiful" you said, caught by surprise by the huskiness in your own voice.

Lewis's smile faltered slightly. He ran a hand through his shorts, a nervous gesture you rarely saw. "It's... something I wrote a while back."

He looked away, then back at you, as if wondering if he should share that with you, if he could anyway.

Without a word, you closed your laptop and stood up. Crossing the room, you settled on the couch next to him, still leaving a comfortable space between you.

Lewis watched you for a moment, his expression unreadable. Then, a small smile played on his lips again. He lifted his hand and brushed a stray strand of hair from your face, a silent thank you for understanding.

He didn't need to say anything more. The music spoke for him, a tribute to someone he still loved or had loved dearly.

As the melody filled the room again, you leaned closer, resting your head against his shoulder.

This wasn't just music; it was a glimpse into Lewis, a gift he was choosing to share with you. A side of him he rarely showed the world.

The city lights had started to twinkle below, but all you could see was the gentle smile playing on Lewis's lips as his fingers strummed in the cords of that guitar.

The song ended softly; the silence afterwards filled with unspoken emotions for you both.

He squeezed your hand, a grateful glint in his eyes. "Thank you for listening."

The first time you do each other's laundry.

The crisp Colorado winter wind howled outside, rattling the windows of Lewis's house. Inside, Lewis's furrowed his brow at the pile of laundry that seemed to be multiplying on the floor.

“Why did I even let that much laundry pile up?!" he muttered to himself, sorting through a mountain of workout gear. He reached for a familiar worn-in sweatshirt, a smile forming on his lips. It was the one Y/n had practically adopted, leaving her scent as a constant reminder to him.

Beside his own clothes, a smaller pile of delicates caught his attention. Nestled amongst his t-shirts, lay a few lacy underwear, some of which he vaguely recalled seeing in her body, or peeking out from under her sweater.

But, practicality reared its head.

He stared at the lacy contraption, feeling a touch out of his depth. Sure, he could handle sweaty race suits and gym socks, but lingerie? That was uncharted territory. But he wanted to take care of her things too, to make sure they stayed as soft and delicate as they felt in her skin.

Just then, Y/n walked in, her cheeks and nose a touch flushed from the cold, a steaming pot tea in her hands. She stopped short, amused by the sight of clothes scattered on the floor and Lewis looking defeated.

"Laundry day already?" she asked, her voice laced with a hint of sarcasm.

"More like laundry mountain day" Lewis replied wryly, gesturing at the pile. "Thought I'd tackle it while the storm has us stuck inside."

He caught her eye flicker to the lacy item, a knowing smile playing on her lips.

"Oh” she teased, setting the mug down on nearer surface. "You’ve found my delicates…"

Lewis, ever so slightly flustered, held up one of his favorites pieces of hers. " About that" he stammered, "how exactly do you wash... them?"

Y/n burst into laughter, the sound warm and genuine. "Oh, Lew" she said, shaking her head as she walked towards him, taking the bralette from his hand as her fingers brushed against his in the process.

She explained the delicate cycle settings on his washing machine, her voice soft and patient. She showed him the difference between hand washing and machine washing, a playful glint in her eyes as she demonstrated with some of her more delicate pieces.

Lewis found himself completely entranced. Here he was, a world champion, only now learning the intricacies of lace washing. And somehow, it felt more nerve wrecking than any qualifying session.

"There you go" Y/n finally said, placing a folded lacy bra in a basket. "See, not so scary, is it?"

Lewis shook his head, a sheepish grin on his face. "Thanks" he mumbled, clearly still a bit embarrassed "Appreciate it, love."

"Thank you, for doing my laundry" she replied, leaning in and nuzzling her nose against his neck. "Besides," she whispered, her voice husky, "now you have more reasons to admire those pieces."

Lewis laughed, wrapping his arms around her. "That," he admitted, pulling her close, "might be the best part."

The first time it's not his friends, but ours.

The rain hammered against the London house's windows, a steady rhythm that masked the city's usual symphony of honking horns and sirens. You fumbled with your keys, finally unlocking the door and stepping inside, greeted by the warmth and distant sound of music.

Lewis's laughter cut through the melody, drawing you towards the source. There he was, surrounded by his friends, sprawled on the floor, instruments scattered around them, clearly in the midst of a brainstorming session.

Miles's head snapped up first, a wide grin splitting his face. "Y/n!" The room erupted in a chorus of greetings as they scrambled to their feet.

"Hey guys, how's the music coming along?" you asked, stepping into the chaos.

"Slow," Daniel admitted with a wink. " Your lover boy here is being particularly stubborn about this riff." He nudged Lewis playfully.

"It needs work" Lewis protested, wrapping his arm around your waist and pulling you closer.

"Been avoiding us, have you?" Daniel teased, opening his arms to engulf in a bear hug when you detached from Lewis.

You scoffed playfully. "Avoiding you? Never. Just swamped with work myself."

"Uh-huh," Daniel drawled, unconvinced.

You were about to retort when Lewis cut in. "Now she’s confirmed it, lay off you all." He said pulling you closer to leave a soft kiss to the back of your head.

The music resumed as you settled onto the couch, content to watch them work their magic.

Later that night, as you snuggled into bed with Lewis you couldn’t help but feel how lighter he always looked when he had time with his friends.

"You know," you said softly, "I had a really nice time tonight. Your friends are…"

"Amazing?" Lewis finished, a smile in his voice.

"Yeah" you agreed, chuckling. "I’ll let you gloat on this one, they really are amazing”

Lewis reached over and tucked a stray strand of hair behind your ear. "And they're your friends too, you know." he said, his voice dropping to a low murmur.

You looked up at his eyes. "What do you mean?"

He chuckled softly. "They haven't called you 'Lewis' girl' for a while now. It's been only 'Y/n'. They like you."

A warmth bloomed in your chest. Your fingers circling his naked chest. "Really?"

"Hm" he confirmed, his gaze holding yours. "Don't think of them as just my friends. They’re ours."

The first time he refers to you as “mommy” to a pet

You peeked through the doorway, a silent observer in the warm glow of the late morning in the living room. Lewis was sprawled on the rug, a playful smile tugging at his lips as he wrestled with Roscoe.

Toys were scattered around them like colorful confetti, and Roscoe, tongue lolling out in pure joy, was putting up a valiant fight against Lewis.

"Alright, alright, rascal!" Lewis chuckled, giving Roscoe a back rub that sent the dog into a fit of happy wiggles. "Who's the bests boys in the whole wide world, huh?"

Roscoe barked in agreement, short and enthusiastic barks that vibrated his entire chunky body.

"That's right, yous ares" Lewis said, his voice dripping with mock seriousness. "The bestest boys. But you know what you need to be an even better boy?"

Roscoe tilted his head, his dark eyes gleaming with curiosity.

"You need to listen to Mommy," Lewis continued, his voice dropping a playful octave. You froze at the doorway, a blush creeping up your neck. Mommy?

Lewis reached out and scratched Roscoe behind the ear. "Yeah, Mommy said we should pick up all these toys before lunch times. What do yous says, champ? Wanna helps Mommys cleans ups?"

Roscoe whined and nudged Lewis's hand with his wet nose, tail thumping against the floor. Lewis ruffled the dog's fur.

"That's a good boys" he said, his gaze flickering towards the doorway for a brief moment. "Time to make Mommy proud."

He stood up, gathering a handful of stuffed animals, and your heart did a little flip-flop. The way he said it, so casual, so natural, you were not expecting that, at all.

You stepped into the room, a playful smile on your face. "Did someone say 'Mommy'?"

Lewis looked up, a surprised grin splitting his face. "Uh, yeah," he stammered, his hands scratching a hidden spot in his neck. "Just, uh, motivating Roscoe here."

Roscoe dropped a squeaky toy at your feet, tail wagging furiously. You knelt down and scratched him behind the ears, earning a happy snuffle.

"He seems pretty motivated already" you teased, glancing at the half-cleaned pile of toys.

Lewis cleared his throat. "Right, well, he just needs a little help from his favorite humans, right, Roscoe?"

The bulldog barked again, his excitement for playtime clearly evident. You couldn't help but laugh.

"Alright, alright," you said, picking up a plush bone.

Lewis's grin widened. "Knew you wouldn’t resist" he said, his voice warm and inviting.

The three of you spent the next twenty minutes engaged in a playful battle against the scattered toys. Roscoe snatching them back just as you were about to put them away.

Finally, as Roscoe settled in his lap as he sat on the floor in the kitchen you leaned against the counter, watching the peaceful scene. He glanced up, catching your gaze.

"So, 'Mommy', huh?" she said, a soft smile playing on her lips.

"Well," he shrugged, playfully mimicking her earlier tone "someone has to take care of us two."

She chuckled, the sound rich and warm. "Can't argue with that."

He reached out a hand, silently inviting you to join him. You crossed the room and slipped down into his embrace, the warmth of him surrounding you. Roscoe whined and shuffled closer, his large head now resting comfortably on your legs.

The first time you admit to someone else you love them.

The apartment was filled with the comforting hum of conversation and the clinking of wine glasses. Y/n sat cross-legged on the plush carpet, surrounded by her closest friends and the nearly empty bottle they were sharing.

“So, how’s everything going with Lewis?” asked Y/N/F, her eyes sparkling with curiosity.

Y/n smiled at the mention of his name alone “It’s going really well,” she replied, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. “I mean, it’s still early days, but things are… really well.”

Another woman leaned in; her interest showing. “What do you mean by that?”

Y/n took a sip of her wine, savoring the taste as she thought about how to explain it. “I don’t know. He’s just...he’s attentive and caring. Like, he remembers the little things, you know?! The things I never go without at home there’s always a stock at his place, he knows my schedule even if he doesn’t know his own…”

Her friends exchanged knowing looks, but Y/n was too lost in her thoughts to notice. “He just remembers things I say, things I need, without me having to remind him.”

“He sounds like a keeper” one of them said, her voice tinged with amusement. “What else?”

Y/n’s smile widened as she continued. “He’s introduced me to his family, and they’re all so wonderful. And he’s met mine, too. We’ve been taking these little steps, and it feels so natural. We’re not rushing, but we’re also not holding back.”

Some eyes narrowed playfully. “Lovely, you’re glowing just talking about him.”

Y/n chuckled embarrassed, ducking her head. “I guess, he makes me feel special.”

Y/N/F put her glass down and leaned forward, her expression serious. “Y/n, it sounds like you’re in love with him.”

Y/n blinked, the words hanging in the air between them. “What? No, it’s too soon for that” she protested weakly, no certainty whatsover.

She reached out, placing a hand on Y/n’s arm. “It’s not about time, it’s about how he makes you feel. And from what you’re saying, it sounds like love to me.”

Y/n’s mind raced as she replayed her words, the moments she had shared with Lewis, the way her heart felt safe every time she saw him. She bit her lip, a shy smile forming. “Maybe” she admitted softly.

The first time they make you cry.

The argument had started over something small. A casual comment about how Lewis seemed to be running himself ragged with his schedule. But somehow it spiraled into something much more intense.

“You’re pushing yourself too hard, Lewis,” Y/n said, her voice tinged with frustration. “You need to take a break and focus on your mental health. You can’t keep going like this.”

Lewis sighed, rubbing his temples. “I’ve been living like this for years, Y/n. I’m fine. I don’t need you to take care of me.”

Her heart ached at his words. “But I’m here to help. That’s what being in a relationship is supposed to be, us taking care of each other.”

“I’ve managed just fine on my own” he snapped, his eyes flashing with anger. “I don’t need fixing.”

Y/n felt tears prick at the corners of her eyes. “Who said anything about fixing you, Lewis. It’s about being there for you. Supporting you. Why can’t you see that?”

He turned away, his shoulders tense. “Because I don’t need it. I’m not like that.”

The tears spilled over, and she wiped them away angrily. “Do you not trust me? Because this is about trust too.”

Lewis whirled around, his expression softening as he saw her tears. “It’s not that. At all. It’s just… I’ve always handled things on my own.”

She took a deep, shaky breath. “I’m not asking you to change who you are. I’m asking you to let me in. In the good and the bad.”

His anger melted away, his features softening. “Please don’t cry” he said quietly, stepping closer and reaching for her hand.

Y/n shook her head, trying to hold back more tears. “I’m crying because I care about you, so damn much, and it hurts to see you struggling and not letting me at least try and help.”

Lewis pulled her into his arms. She buried her face in his chest, the warmth of his embrace a welcome contrast to the cold distance of their argument. “I’m sorry,” he whispered into her hair. “I didn’t mean to push you away.”

She clung to him, her fingers gripping his shirt. “I just want to be there for you. To share the load.”

He sighed, holding her tighter. “I know. I’m just not used to it. But I’ll try. Promise, okay?!”

Y/n pulled back slightly, looking at him to find sincerity in his eyes. “That’s all I’m asking.”

He cupped her face, his thumb brushing away her tears. “I do trust you. It’s just hard to let go of old habits.”

The first time you share a hangover so painful you actually think you might die.

The throbbing in her head felt like a techno beat gone rogue. Every breath felt like knives torturing each cell, from her temples straight down to her toes. And to top it off she was pretty sure she'd swallowed a swarm of angry bees, that were now very, very unhappy residing in her skull.

"Ugh," Y/n groaned, pulling the covers further over her head.

A faint chirp from the doorway alerted to Lewis's presence. He peeked in; concern etched on his face.

"Hey," he said softly. "How's it going?"

"I think I’m dying" she mumbled from the depths of the covers. "Or at least the feeling is just like I imagine dying to be like."

Lewis chuckled, a sound that surprisingly didn't send her brain into a protest. "Sounds rough."

"Rough is putting it mildly" Y/n croaked. "I think I might have made a deal with the devil for another tequila. And apparently, he holds a grudge."

He approached the bed holding a tray that looked like it had come straight from a health spa – a steaming mug, a glass of water, and a plate of suspiciously green fruit salad.

"Is that… kale?" she peeked at the salad with suspicion.

"Don't knock it till you try it, babe," he said, setting the tray down on the nightstand. "It's packed with just what your body needs right now."

Y/n grimaced. The thought of kale was about as appealing as a root canal right now. But she appreciated the effort.

"Fine" she mumbled, reaching for the glass of water. "No promises though."

Lewis helped her sit up, propping pillows behind her back. He handed her the mug first, the smell of ginger and honey filling your senses.

"It'll help with the nausea." he said, his voice gentle and reassuring.

Y/n took a tentative sip. It wasn't bad at all. Dare she say, it was kind of good?!

As she finished the drink, Lewis picked up the spoon and started feeding her the fruit salad.

"Hm, Lew” she whined, swatting playfully at his hand. "Do I look like a baby bird?"

"Not really," he grinned, dodging her hand. "But you do look like a very cuddly koala who needs help."

And cuddly she was. Deprived of her usual snark and fueled solely by the desire for her pain to end, she found herself clinging to Lewis for the rest of the day.

Y/n buried her face in his shoulder, nuzzling it like a giant human teddy bear. "See?" Lewis said, wrapping his arms around her. "Much better now, salad and all."

She mumbled something incoherent but contented against his chest. The warmth of his embrace, the gentle pressure of his hand rubbing circles on her back, it all felt strangely soothing.

After a while, the pain in her head seemed to dull a little. Maybe it was the tea, maybe it was Lewis's cuddling skills, but she started to drift off to sleep.

"Feeling better?" Lewis whispered, his voice barely a murmur.

"Just don't let me do any more tequila. Ever.” Y/n mumbled back, sleep almost pulling her under until she turned into his chest to look at him with a smirk “Unless is Almave”.

The first time you realize you have a side to the bed.

The crisp morning air snuck through the thin hotel curtains, hitting in stripe like figures across Lewis's face. He stirred; the warmth of Y/n pressed against his back a comforting weight. He instinctively reached out, his fingers trailing along the curve of her arm, a silent morning greeting.

A muffled groan escaped Y/n's lips; her face buried in the crook of his neck. Lewis chuckled softly, already familiar with her morning routine. He was an early riser, Y/n, however, reveled in sleeping in whenever possible.

"Morning sunshine" he whispered, his voice husky with sleep.

A sleepy mumbled response was all he got before peace settled again. Lewis smiled, content to simply lie with her, enjoying the quiet moments with her in his arms. He was about to drift back to sleep when a small wrinkle appeared on Y/n's forehead.

With a sigh that spoke volumes about her reluctance, Y/n began to roll over. But before she could fully turn into the sunny spots, Lewis's arm instinctively tightened around her, gently but firmly stopping her movement.

"Wrong side," he murmured, his voice still laced with sleep.

Y/n blinked, momentarily disoriented.

Sun. It was way too early for sun.

She squinted towards the window, the golden light streaming in directly at her.

"Oh," she mumbled, her confusion finally dissipating.

"See" Lewis chuckled, a hint of amusement in his voice. "This side's better for you. Less light in the mornings."

She connected the dots. All this time, she'd assumed it was a coincidence that she always ended up on the darker side of the bed. But Lewis, bless his soul, had evidently been making sure of it.

"You knew?" she asked, a playful smile tugging at the corner of her still sleepy features.

"Always," he confirmed, his warm breath tickling her ear.

"You never said anything."

"Didn't have to" he replied smugly. "Seemed to be working just fine."

She snuggled closer. It was a small thing, but it spoke volumes about his attentiveness, about the way he already knew her preferences.

"Thank you, my savior” she teased, rolling onto her back and gazing up at him.

He met her gaze, his eyes crinkling at the corners. "Just making sure you get your beauty sleep."

"Oh, so that's it?" she challenged, a playful glint in her eyes. "Not just protecting your own slumber?"

"Maybe a little bit of both," he admitted with a disarming grin. He leaned down, his lips brushing against hers in a tender kiss.

"Well," she murmured, as he pulled back, "thanks for looking after me, even when I'm clueless."

Lewis brushed a stray strand of loose hair. "Always," he promised, his voice a low rumble.

The first time you have to suck it up and say sorry.

The fluorescent lights of the medical center buzzed overhead, nothing like the snowy wonderland you were just minutes before in the Colorado snow winter.

A throbbing ache pulsed behind her forehead, a constant reminder of her spectacular faceplant earlier on the slopes. She’d tried to impress Lewis and his friends with a daring jump, ending up in a tangled heap of limbs and snow.

"You okay?" Lewis had appeared at her side in a flash, his face etched with worry.

"Yeah, just a little tumble," She'd mumbled, brushing snow off her jacket. The truth was, the world had tilted a bit when she hit the ground, but she hated feeling like a damsel in distress. Especially not on a trip Lewis had been planning for months.

A few hours later, the world wasn't just tilting; it was doing a full-on waltz. Nausea churned in her stomach, making it hard to even think straight.

She excused myself from the group, claiming a bathroom break, her head swimming with every step.

At the medical center, a stern-faced doctor delivered the news – a possible concussion, observation for a few hours. Finally, frustration giving way to helplessness, she finally dialed Lewis's number.

He answered with a clipped greeting, his voice laced with tension. "Y/n, where are you?"

"Uh, hey Lewis," she started, voice small. "I'm, uh, at the medical center."

A beat of stunned silence followed, then a torrent of words. "Medical center? What happened? Are you okay? It’s about that fall, isn’t it?!"

She winced at his sharp tone, but knew it came from a place of concern. "I… I just didn't want to ruin the day," she mumbled, guilt twisting in my gut.

"Ruin the day?" There was a pause, then a sigh. "Babe. You're more important than any ski trip."

Shame burned in her face. "I know, I just…" she trailed off, unable to articulate the stubborn independence that had gotten her into this mess.

"Just… just stay put," Lewis finally said, the anger replaced with a tired resignation. "I'm on my way."

The wait felt like an eternity. Finally, the door burst open, revealing a furious and concerned Lewis. His face softened when he saw her, the anger replaced with a wave of relief so palpable she could almost touch it.

He rushed to her side. "How are you feeling?"

"Like I did a faceplant off a mountain," she admitted, a weak smile tugging at her lips hoping to lighten the mood.

He chuckled, a low, warm sound. "That sounds about right." Then, a softer note entered his voice. "Why didn't you tell me you weren't feeling good?"

She took a deep breath before answering. "I'm sorry, Lew" she apologized meeting his gaze. "I just… didn't want to hold you back. I know how much you were looking forward to this trip."

He cupped her face in his hand, his touch surprisingly gentle. "You're never going to hold me back," he said, his voice low and serious. "Promise me you'll tell me next time."

The first time you look at them and think of forever

Snow fell around the cozy cabin, a relentless drumming that created a comforting rhythm.

Inside, curled up on the oversized couch with a mug of hot cocoa clutched in her hands, Y/n watched Lewis.

He wasn't doing anything particularly extraordinary, simply mending a tear in a pair of his skying pants, his brow furrowed in concentration as he threaded the needle. He didn't even notice her watching, his full attention focused on the task at hand.

And yet, in that ordinary moment, a warmth flooded her chest, stealing her breath away. Here he was, a man who commanded the attention of millions, bent over a sewing kit with a needle as delicate as a butterfly's wing.

She'd seen him conquer podiums and defy physics, but the sight of him patiently mending a simple tear, a frown adorably creasing his forehead… that was something different, entirely.

A glimpse into a side of him rarely seen, a quiet vulnerability of a man who wasn't afraid to solve things, to mend not just clothes, but maybe something broken in other places too.

A shy smile spread across her face as the realization hit her. This, this right here, the Lewis who faced his fears on the track and mended his own clothes, was the man she was falling for. He wasn't just the celebrity, he was real, flawed, and utterly endearing.

"You're staring," Lewis finally said, catching her eye. He looked up, a playful smile on his lips. His cheeks flushed slightly, a hint of self-consciousness creeping in.

"Just admiring your skills" she teased, taking a sip of her cocoa.

"Didn't know you were a fan, sewing skills are highly underrated" he replied, raising a questioning eyebrow.

"Maybe I am" she confessed; her voice soft. "Maybe I am a fan of everything you do."

He put down the needle and thread, the unfinished pant left in his lap. He leaned in, his gaze holding hers captive. "Everything?" he murmured, his voice husky.

She held his gaze, feeling heat creep up her neck. "Even the mundane stuff. Specially those, actually." she whispered back, winking before closing in.

A slow smile spread across his face. He leaned in further, the space between their lips connecting with a gentle warm touch; a quiet understanding that went beyond words.

As they pulled away, his thumb brushed away a stray strand of hair from her face. "Forever might be a crazy promise, Y/N," he said, his voice a low rumble. "But if I were to make it, it would be with you."

______________________________________________________________

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goddessofvalyria · 3 months ago

Text

CARELESS WHISPER | Modern!Aemond Targaryen x fem!reader

Summary: Just love between Aemond Targaryen and his girl.

TW: 18+, MINORS DNI, She/Her pronouns, sexual themes, oral (f receiving), fingering, SMUT, sexual tension, sex. This is a modern Aemond in modern AU, he calls her "good girl" and "princess."

English is not my first language, be kind and enjoy the fic <3

Words: 2650

Aemond Targaryen stands in the dimly lit living room of his upscale apartment, the soft glow of the city lights streaming through the floor-to-ceiling windows, casting long shadows on the polished wooden floor. The faint, haunting melody of "Careless Whisper" by George Michael plays in the background, the saxophone riff filling the room with a melancholic, sensual rhythm that matches the pounding of his heart.

He glances over his shoulder, his eyes locking onto her. She stands by the window, gazing out at the sprawling cityscape, her silhouette illuminated by the city lights. There’s a wistful look on her face, one that tugs at something deep within him. His "good girl," his "princess" she’s been everything to him—his sanctuary, his weakness, his addiction.

He crosses the room in a few strides, his bare feet silent against the cool floor. As he gets closer, she turns, sensing his presence. Her eyes meet his, and there’s a flicker of something—anticipation, desire, maybe even love. He can’t quite tell, but it doesn’t matter. He’s lost in her, in the way she looks at him as if he’s the only thing that matters in this vast, chaotic world.

“Come here” he murmurs softly, his voice a low rumble that sends a shiver down her spine.

She moves towards him, her steps slow, deliberate, almost hesitant. There’s a tension in the air, a charged current that seems to draw them together like magnets. When she reaches him, he slips his hands around her waist, pulling her close until there’s no space left between them.

“My good girl” he whispers, his lips brushing against her ear, his breath hot against her skin. She shivers again, a soft gasp escaping her lips, and he feels a surge of satisfaction. He loves the way she reacts to his touch, the way she melts against him, her body molding perfectly to his.

His fingers trail up her back, finding the zipper of her black dress and slowly tugging it down. The fabric pools at her feet, leaving her in nothing but a lace bra and panties. She looks up at him, her eyes wide, vulnerable, but there’s a spark there too—a spark of daring, of want.

Aemond cups her face, his thumb brushing across her cheek. “You’re so beautiful” he says, his voice barely more than a whisper. “So perfect.”

She blushes at his words, a soft pink tinting her cheeks, and he can’t help but smile. He leans down, capturing her lips in a slow, passionate kiss. She responds immediately, her arms wrapping around his neck, pulling him closer, deepening the kiss. It’s a slow burn, a build-up of tension that’s been simmering between them all night.

As the song plays on, Aemond moves them towards the couch, his hands never leaving her body. They sink down onto the cushions, their bodies entwined, the kiss growing more urgent, more needy. He pulls back slightly, his forehead resting against hers, his breath coming in short, ragged gasps.

“Do you trust me?” he asks, his voice a husky whisper.

She nods, her eyes locked on his. “Yes, my love” she breathes. “Always.”

Aemond smiles, his heart swelling at her words. He leans in, capturing her lips in another kiss, his hands roaming over her body, exploring every inch of her. She arches into him, a soft moan escaping her lips, and he feels a rush of desire, of possessiveness. She’s his, all his, and he’s not going to let her go.

He pulls back again, his eyes dark with desire. “Turn around, princess” he commands softly, his voice low, authoritative.

She does as he asks, turning so her back is pressed against his chest, her body fitting perfectly against his. He wraps his arms around her, his hands sliding down her stomach, his lips brushing against her neck.

“You’re such a good girl for me” he whispers, his voice thick with emotion. “My good girl.”

She shivers at his words, her breath hitching in her throat. He smiles against her skin, his hands continuing their slow, deliberate exploration of her body, his touch light, teasing.

“Aemond…” she whispers, her voice breathy, filled with need.

He smirks, his lips brushing against her ear. “What do you want, princess?” he asks, his voice a low purr.

“You” she breathes. “I want you.”

He chuckles softly, his hands sliding down to the waistband of her panties, his fingers hooking into the lace. “Then you’ll have me” he murmurs, his voice filled with promise. “All of me.”

He pulls her lace bra and panties down, his hands moving with a slow, deliberate sensuality that makes her gasp. He turns her to face him, his eyes locking onto hers as he lifts her up, his strength evident in the ease with which he handles her. He places her gently on his lap, her legs straddling his waist, his hands gripping her hips.

He leans in, his lips brushing against hers in a soft, almost reverent kiss. “I love you” he whispers, the words slipping out before he can stop them.

She freezes for a moment, her eyes widening in surprise. But then she smiles, a soft, genuine smile that makes his heart skip a beat. “I love you too” she whispers back, her voice filled with emotion.

Aemond feels a surge of relief, of happiness, and he pulls her closer, kissing her deeply, passionately. They lose themselves in each other, in the feel of their bodies pressed together, in the rhythm of the music playing softly in the background.

“You’re mine” he whispers, his voice filled with a possessive intensity. “And I’m yours. Always.”

She nods, her eyes shining with tears of happiness. “Always” she whispers back, her voice filled with love, with promise.

Aemond smiles, pulling her into another deep, passionate kiss, their bodies moving together in perfect harmony.

He caresses her naked body, feels shivers. His large and warm hands, his long fingers make her feel everything: love, excitement, security. "What do you want, princess?" he murmurs making her lie down on the leather sofa. She pants against his lips, Aemond presses his forehead against hers. "So beautiful" Feeling her writhing under his touch, he kisses her neck and makes her let out a low moan, a little shiver that runs along his spine. His hands go down from her neck to her swollen breasts, taking them in his hands and torturing her sensitive nipples. Aemond loves those evenings so quiet and filled only with their love, both away from work, just the two of them.

"Aemond" her name comes from his lips like a prayer. He feels her relax, melt, his hands grabbed her legs opening them. Aemond immediately notices how wet she is, he sees her pussy shiny and wet with her juices, he caresses her skin so smooth and inviting, his hand disappears between her legs and a particularly loud moan fills the room. Two fingers slide inside her that her back, she maintains eye contact with her boyfriend. His princess pants and moves to meet the fingers, the gentle but insistent touch of Aemond never slows down and with the other hand he holds her still on the hips. She was so beautiful, wet and excited just for him.

"Oh Aemond!" she whispers, arching her back, her body shaking from the thrusts of his long fingers that alternate between pushing inside her and rotating circles on her clit, out of breath she begs him. She is about to break under him, but Aemond pulls his fingers from her, a gasp of disapproval leaves her lips, but he has other plans for his good girl.

He lies between her legs, kisses her inner thigh and soon his long tongue is between her thighs before sliding along her opening and licking her. She pants, writhing and enjoying her boyfriend's mouth on her. She didn't care about modesty, she just wanted to sin as much as I would allow her. "My good girl" Aemond whispers, before continuing to lick her. He goes much deeper, the moans of pure pleasure escape her lips at the feeling of his mouth on her, the act so absolutely sinful and debauched. She finds the strength to raise herself on her elbows, to look at her lover with her lips shiny and swollen. Aemond loved giving her pleasure, he loved seeing her so sensitive and submissive to him and to the pleasure that only he could give her. slowly with his tongue he fucks her, her legs tighten around his face and he is so happy to suffocate between those thighs. He feels her wet, aroused, her clit throbs from how sensitive it is. He feels her, she is about to come and he lets her come on his tongue, tasting his sweet princess.

She is shaken by the orgasm, the sofa beneath her is wet as are her thighs. "We are not finished, princess" Aemond murmurs, pulling away from her, still deeply excited and shaken by the orgasm. Her thighs rub against each other to ease the pain, her fingers grab him by the end of the black pants she is wearing. Aemond looked at her naked body as if he were admiring a god, his purple eyes shining hungry: she naked, hair loose, excited, wet just for him with her billion-dollar necklace hanging around her neck. "You are so perfect I can hardly believe you are mine" he leans over her to kiss her, she can feel herself on his lips. "Let's make love" she whispers clinging to his neck".

Aemond's lips trail slowly down her neck, the heat between them building to a fever pitch. Their bodies move in sync, every touch, every kiss deepening the connection that pulses like a live wire between them. He whispers sweet words against her skin—his "Good girl," his "princess"—and each endearment sends a shiver through her, a soft gasp escaping her lips. She arches into him, her nails digging into his shoulders, and he groans, the sound low and deep in his throat.

He shifts, lifting her effortlessly, and carries her to the bed. The city lights filter through the sheer curtains, casting soft shadows across their intertwined forms. Aemond lowers her gently onto the silk sheets, his eyes never leaving hers. He pauses for a moment, just taking her in—her flushed cheeks, her parted lips, the way her chest rises and falls with each breath. She’s beautiful, breathtaking, and all his.

He leans down, capturing her lips in a slow, deliberate kiss, his hands exploring every curve, every inch of her. She moans softly, her body responding to his touch, her hips moving instinctively against him. He withdraws, just enough to look at her, his eyes dark with desire, but also with something sweeter, something deeper. She undresses him from his shirt, he removes his pants and boxers in one motion. He unwraps his silvery hair, she strokes it. Her princess loves her boyfriend and his body so much: Aemond is tall, a toned body and dry, defined muscles, veiny hands, long, veiny arms, the v-line marking his hips and closing in on a long, veiny, hard, pre-cum shiny-tipped cock. “Take me like this, take me raw” she whispers. “Skin on skin, I want to feel you.”

Aemon leans back again, his kisses deep and consuming, his hands gentle but firm as he moves on her, their bodies become one. The outside world fades away and all that exists is this moment, this connection between them.

The music from earlier is a faint echo in the background, the haunting melody of the saxophone weaves around them like a spell, binding them together. She is warm, wet, tight. Aemond kisses her, she adds her tongue to it. “I love you,” he whispers as he begins to move slowly inside her, unable to hold back her little moans. He lifts up a little and she sees his warm gaze travel over her body, watching her lips parting, her breasts moving with each thrust he gives, watching even the spot where they are joined.

She responds with a breathless moan, her fingers threading through his hair, pulling him closer. They move together, faster now, the intensity building, the air between them charged with electricity.

Aemond groans deeply his hips suddenly collide harder against hers. It is too beautiful, too heavenly. The sound of their skins rubbing and filling the room, along with our moans and the music in the background is pure heaven. Her red nails scratch all over his back making him moan, he bites her lips his forehead glued to his good girl's and her long hair frames his face.

Their lovemaking is slow and passionate, a dance of tenderness and urgency. Aemond's touches are both reverent and demanding, his body moving with hers in a rhythm that seems both new and ancient. She whispers his name, a breathy whisper that pushes him closer to the edge. He murmurs words of love, of adoration, his voice a low growl against her ear.

“A good girl,” he whispers, her breath warm against his skin. “My princess. All mine.”

Aemond feels her: her pussy tightens around his cock. “Shh” he hisses, "Come for me, cum around me"she moans in his ear and he gives her a few thrusts as she comes around him, Aemond kisses her coming inside her.

“I love you, I love you, I love you"

Their release, is a gasp of shared pleasure that echoes in the silent room, their bodies shaking in unison.

"I love you, my love" she smiles.

Afterward, they lie together in a tangled mess of limbs, their breaths coming in slow, steady waves as they come down from the high. Aemond pulls her close, his arm wrapping around her waist, holding her against him. She rests her head on his chest, listening to the steady thrum of his heartbeat, her fingers tracing lazy patterns on his skin.

For a while, neither of them speaks, content to just be in this moment, to savor the warmth of each other’s bodies. The room is filled with a soft, comforting silence, the kind that speaks volumes without a single word.

Finally, Aemond breaks the silence, his voice a soft murmur against her hair. “You’re everything to me” he says, his fingers gently brushing her back. “I hope you know that.”

She looks up at him, her eyes filled with emotion, and nods. “I do” she whispers, her voice soft but firm. “And you’re everything to me too, Aemond.”

He smiles, a rare, genuine smile that lights up his face. He presses a kiss to her forehead, his lips lingering there for a moment, as if he’s trying to memorize the feel of her, the scent of her.

They lie there, wrapped up in each other, the city outside moving on, but for them, time seems to stand still. She nestles closer to him, her eyes drifting shut, feeling safe, content, loved.

Aemond watches her, his heart swelling with an emotion he can’t quite name. He’s never felt this way before, never felt so connected to another person, so complete. He knows he’d do anything for her, anything to keep her by his side, to protect her, to love her.

“Sleep, my princess” he whispers, his voice barely more than a breath. “I’m here. I’m not going anywhere.”

She smiles softly, her eyes fluttering closed, and she falls asleep in his arms, a soft, peaceful expression on her face. Aemond holds her close, his own eyes growing heavy, and for the first time in a long time, he feels truly at peace.

As he drifts off to sleep, the last notes of "Careless Whisper" fade into the night, the melody a lingering echo in the air, a perfect soundtrack to the quiet, beautiful moment they’ve just shared.

They love each other so much.

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keeksandgigz · 3 months ago

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modern!bandmates eddie and reader who are kind of secretly hooking up on the side—

You’re lying in his bed in a post- coital bliss. The heady smoke of American Spirits clouding up the room as you pass the quickly dying ember back and forth between still trembling fingers.

You had a tradition of sneaking around before band rehearsals, it was easier to let off steam that way.

Passing him the cigarette and grabbing his discarded shirt— a gray Slayer shirt with the collar a bit loose, it smells a bit like your perfume— you head to the bathroom.

He stands up off the bed to grab his guitar, just to go over the arrangements for a new song you’d decided to do. Coming back, you do the same, reaching into your bag to grab loose sheets of words jumbled up together. You hum the melodies and try out new runs.

“I like that one” he speaks for the first time.

You turn your head towards him.

“The one you just did, right before the chorus? It sounds really good. I don’t know how you do it that fast” he smiles, putting out the cigarette on an ashtray sitting on his nightstand.

“I mean it’s like you being a genius with that fretboard. You zoom around that thing like it’s nobody’s business” you chuckle “I could never be able to do that.”

“Yeah you could” he says sincerely. He puts the guitar down and reaches for another instrument on his rack “Here, I’ll teach you the bass. It’s a bit easier”

You look at him, going around the bed to sit next to you “But we have rehearsals in an hour” you protest.

“You’ve said you wanted to learn how to play a couple times, didn’t you? And I have my stuff down, don’t worry” he rolls his eyes. You sit up, criss- crossing your legs, intrigue in your face. He likes the way your lips curl when you’re interested in something.

“Sit on the edge of the bed” he commands, you comply, as he drops the bass on your legs. You feel the weight of the instrument on you. The smooth wood, the jagged fretboard, the heavy metal strings.

You look at yourself in the mirror across his bed. “Do I look cool now?” you smile.

“You always look cool” he says, making his way behind you.

“But I’m not really— like— part of your world, y’know? You could be in a death metal band if you wanted, instead you’re stuck here with me doing what? dad rock? the Arctic Monkeys?” you chuckle.

“When you look the part— the black makeup on your eyes and dressed in all black you look super cool” He rubs your left arm “almost like you’ve always been part of my world.” He kisses your shoulder.

“And I don’t mind playing for your band. I get to spend more time with you, don’t I?” he smiles, and a slight tinge forms on your cheeks. You wonder if he can see it.

He positions himself so you’re sat between his legs, as his arms make their way down yours, puppeteering your fingers across the bass, its discordant rumble echoing in your bones.

After a couple hours you’d managed to play the main riff of Blitzkrieg Bop by yourself.

“See? You’re a natural” he smiles “now we can jam together instead of fucking” a boyish laugh escapes his mouth. You just smack him across the arm.

“In your dreams”

—

where has the yearning brought me omfg i haven’t written in so long

#this is word vomit #yearning has brought me places i wouldn’t even go with a gun #keekswrites #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson imagine #eddie thots #eddie munson #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson blurb

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mustainegf · 5 months ago

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Friends with benefits typa thing with 1991 James, reader has been friends with him since 83 and knows Kirk, lars and Jason real well. AND LIKE MAKE HIM CONFESS HE WROTE NOTHINF ELSE MATTER ABOUT THE READER. And like end up fucking backstage after performing it 🙏🏻🫶

DONT YOU DARE MAKE ME CRY.

𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐄𝐋𝐒𝐄 𝐌𝐀𝐓𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐒 ¹⁹⁹¹

I’d known James for many years. That bond between us was always quite firm. Things had recently become pretty intimate. I will say we hooked up a few times in our friendship, just two friends seeking something more during lonely nights on the road.

One night, after a great show show, we just sat around on the tour bus. Adrenaline was still high, beers were flowing.

James and Lars were knocked out from performance, having gone directly to bed, shockingly. So I, Kirk, and Jason sat around and let the liquor flow.

"Hey, turn up the radio," Jason said suddenly, his eyes lighting up. "I think that's one of our new tracks."

Then, sure enough, the soft melody of Nothing Else Matters filled the small space of that tour bus.

It was quite a far cry from the usual thrash metal Metallica creation. This song was somber, simply beautiful. I found myself immediately in love with it since the day they played it for me in the studio.

"I really like this one," I said aloud to no one in particular. "It's different."

Kirk chuckled and glanced over at Jason. "Oh, you know all about this song," he said, his eyes sparkling with tipsiness.

I raised an eyebrow. "What’s that supposed to mean?"

Jason turned to Kirk, then back to me. "Wait, you don't know?"

"Know what?" I asked, a weird sense of anticipation.

"James didn't tell you?" Kirk asked, lowering his voice so James wouldn't hear from his bunk.

I shook my head, completely baffled as i glanced around for any clue as to what’s they meant. "Tell me what?"

Kirk leaned forward, his face now dead serious. "He wrote this song about you."

I just sat there staring at him, my brain stumbling over the thought. "About.. me?"

Jason nodded, his face softening with a knowing smile. "Yeah. Ever wonder why it sounds so personal?"

I was floored. Absolutely floored. Of all the things that I had contributed to the scale of imaginations in my mind, this wasn't one.

James wrote a song for me? I replayed again, this time each word sounding all new.

"But, why?" I stuttered.

Kirk and Jason exchanged another look, as if wordlessly passing along a secret they both shared. "Because you mean a lot to him," Kirk explained conclusively. "More than you might realize."

I sank back, my heart thudding inside my chest. The lyrics looped in my mind, the tune entwining itself into my thoughts. James, who I had known for so many years, my friend, and lately so much more, had laid his heart out in this damn song. A song about me.

Everything had become pretty fuzzy in the days since Kirk and Jason's secret. That conversation just kept playing over in my head. The knowledge James had written that song about me left me unable to breathe.

I sat backstage at one of their concerts tonight, just like I usually did. The crowd roar and the all knowing riffs of Metallica pierced the air, but my thoughts strayed strong.

I sat there, lost, replaying the moments I shared with James, not able to shake off that my heart filled with an emotion I had been trying to ignore for years.

The final song began.

Nothing else matters, those sweet open notes.

I watched James up on stage, his voice pouring out something so raw. He looked so vulnerable in that circle of light.

I am thinking of James, of his smile, wide, sweetly bent, which can still make me smile. His laughter is soft and amused sometimes, other times, it's loud and proud. He has such a big heart, which maybe he would have covered up with an exterior of toughness, but there was unmistakable proof in his acts. He was just a big teddy bear, really.

I thought about the times we had shared, nights that we spent as lovers. The way he touched me, held me, kissed me, made love to me. It wasn't just sex, it was something deeper, something more.

I felt my eyes swim with tears as he sang. The lyrics glowed of love, longing, all the same things that I had suppressed, feared admitting.

All along, I had been trying to tell myself it was just a friends with benefits thing, no strings attached, that sort of thing. Yet now, with this song playing, knowing it to be about me, it was impossible to keep lying to myself.

I loved James. And always had.

As the last plucking notes of the song ceased into the applause of the many fans, something hit me like a ton of bricks. I realized I was in love with James. But now, denying it wasn't possible. I loved him.

Later that evening, we started back to the hotel. The streets were empty, at times, only the sound of our footsteps could be heard.

That song still stirred something inside me. I walked along with James, taking quick looks at him, my heart racing with all the things I wanted to say. But didn’t.

Finally, we reached the hotel, and James excused himself. "Hey, can you come with me for a second?" he asked, looking at me with a face he clearly wanted to look hesitant.

I nodded, my lips curling up slightly. "Sure."

We walked down the hallway to his room, until at last he stopped and turned toward me.

"So uh… Don't freak out," he started off awkwardly, rubbing the back of his head. "The guys convinced me to tell you what I'm about to say."

I nodded again. My stomach practically doing flips as I knew what he was about to say. "Okay, shoot."

He sucked in a deep breath and looked around looking more nervous than I’d ever seen the man. "I, uh… I don't really know how to say this, but…the song, you know.. 'Nothing Else Matters'…I wrote it about you. For you."

"About me?" I whispered, even though I already knew. Hearing him say it was different.

James nodded, his eyes finally meeting mine. "Yeah. I… I wasn’t gonna tell you, but Kirk and Jason wouldn't let it go."

"Why would you write something so beautiful about me?" I queried softly.

James stepped closer, his voice whisper soft now.

“Because I love you.”

His words strung in the air between us, then came the kiss, soft and full of passion, full of all the love that had been built up inside me during all those many days. His hands rested lightly on my hips, and I felt right.

I pulled back just an inch, my forehead still against his. "James… promise me this means something, that we won't go right back to being friends," I whispered, referring to all those other times when, well, we'd made out, even fucked, without meaning anything by it.

He stared into my eyes. "The last thing I want is to just be friends.”

A grin spread across his face as he swung me up and into another kiss. Our lips had barely touched when he pushed open the door to his hotel room, sweeping me inside before he kicked it shut behind us a little more gently.

The latch clicked, and the sound bounced in the room.

We both giggled, the laughter blending with the kisses, our joy filling the room. His hands took their place all over my body.

He laid me softly on the bed, crawling over me. His lips found mine again, and this kiss was slow, full promises.

His hands were absolutely everywhere, stroking down my sides, brushing and squeezing against my breasts, finally resting on my hips.

"I love you," he breathed against my lips.

"I love you too, James…” I whined in return, just hardly a breathy sigh.

He shifted in weight, moving between my legs, his erection pressing insistently against my thigh. I felt the heat of him, the hardness that told me of his deep need.

We stripped ourselves down, pecks and smiles given between each article of clothing that was tossed to the floor.

Slowly, he guided himself to me the head of his cock nudged against my wetness. It was familiar, but different this time. It meant something.

My hands clutched at his back, my nails dragging in a little as he started to push inside.

"God, you feel so good," he groaned out. "So perfect for me…”

That stretch was fucking perfect, a mix of pleasure and slight ache as he filled me up. Slowly but surely, his cock slid into me, inch by inch, and sank deeper.

I just cannot describe this feeling of being inside.

"You're so big," I whimpered again. "I love how you feel inside me..." I told him earnestly, I knew it would get him riled up.

"I love being inside you," he replied with a chuckle despite the growl. "You make me feel so good, baby… you always do."

Once he was bottoming out, the thrusts began almost simultaneously, each pump a reasoned peice of his love. I felt every inch of him, the way his cock stretched and filled me up completely, how it rubbed against all the right places inside.

"You feel amazing," he murmured again, his lips against my ear. "So, so tight. My good girl."

My hips lifted to his thrusts, and we moved together. The sounds of our lovemaking were quite evident, the wet slap of our bodies coming together, the endless gasps and moans becoming a mess.

"James," I groaned, grasping at his neck and tugging him closer as he moved inside me. "Oh God, yes. Just like that!” I wailed.

His tongue delved deep into my mouth, as did his cock. I felt the heat of him, the slick pulsing hardness that filled me so well, better than anyone or anything ever could.

"You're so beautiful," he whispered against my lips, breath hot. "I love you so much."

"I love you too," I gasped, my body arching against his as my pricked nipples grazed his sweaty chest. "I love you so much, James."

His thrusts quickened, grew harder, urgent, sloppy. I could feel that tension tightening and tightening in my tummy.

His cock pounded inside me, each beat forcing me closer to cumming.

"You're my everything," he groaned thickly. "My beautiful girl. You're so good for me.”

"Yes," I groaned, my nails clawing into his back and probably leaving vulgar marks. "I'm yours, J-James. Always."

I could feel him throbbing inside me, its heat a delicious reminder of his lust for me.

"Cum for me," he whispered, his voice at once a command and plea. "Cum for me, baby."

The final push that sent me over the brink. My climax ripped over me. I clung to his body, my frame shaking as He fucked me through it.

It was only second later and James followed, his member pulsing as he roared. I felt the hot, wet rush of his cum, flooding me. He groaned my name, every inch of us trembled, from our legs to our voices.

He kissed me lightly, lips tender. “You're amazing," he breathed in my ear.

This was where I was mean to be, with James.

And nothing else matters.

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familiarscars · 12 days ago

Text

Lost In Control | Bad Omens | CHAPTER 02

adult content | minors do NOT interact.

⋆ 𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆. Bad Omens X ex-girlfriend and singer!Reader.

⋆ 𝐒𝐘𝐍𝐎𝐏𝐒𝐈𝐒. You and Noah had a difficult ending but you still need to support each other for the band.

⋆ 𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆(𝐒). melancholy, ex-boyfriends, difficult relationships, alcohol abuse, bad words, drug addiction, betrayal.

It's okay to not agree with the characters' attitudes during the fic. It's good to remember that the story is fiction from the author's sick mind and of course they will make dubious decisions according to my fantasies. Nothing is done to be compared to reality.

On the bus, you were focused on your notebook, while Jolly played a few chords on his guitar, and together you started shaping what seemed to be the melody for a potential new project. The label was pressuring for a single with a different energy than what had been done on the last album—you needed to reach a new audience, and it wasn’t the time to settle into a comfort zone.

“I like this,” Jolly commented with a faint smile on his lips.

You felt a flicker of hope that you were still capable of writing something worthwhile. In your recent attempts, everything had seemed awful, and your head was always too clouded to try again.

“I like it too!” Ruffilo chimed in, sounding excited as he grabbed the notebook from your hands to take a closer look. “If we make the guitar riff heavier in the chorus, we’ll have the perfect song without losing our identity. You take the lead, and Noah handles the growls.”

“Thanks, guys!” you said shyly, tugging at the sleeve of your sweater and clutching it in your hands. Your head ached from the drinks you’d had the night before, and you could hear your stomach growling loudly. “It’s just a draft; there’s still a lot to improve.”

“It’s too melancholic,” a voice cut through the space just as the bathroom door slammed shut.

Noah walked toward where everyone was gathered, his hands still buried in the pockets of his hoodie. Tilting his head slightly, he surveyed the group with disdain.

“If we’re aiming for something different, I don’t agree with sticking to what we did in The Death of Peace of Mind. It had all those elements, and I don’t want to replicate the same formula,” he said, yawning between sentences. You felt your face flush with embarrassment. “This band doesn’t just write about messed-up heads and broken hearts. It’s time to move on.”

Amazing how he could make you feel ridiculous with just a few words.

“Noah’s got a point…” you started, but Jolly quickly stepped in, cutting you off.

“No, he doesn’t!” Jolly’s tone was firm as he stared down his friend, who was idly fiddling with the string of his hoodie. “Our strength lies in being experimental, mixing sound textures and shifting genres in each track—from melancholic to hardcore. This lyric is perfect, and everyone here agreed it’s powerful enough to deliver what the label wants. But of course, you’d be the only one to disagree.”

“I didn’t agree because I don’t want to do the same work as if we weren’t capable of venturing into something new.”

“Well, Folio’s asleep, so we’ve got three votes against one. We’re producing this song, and it’s up to you to decide whether you want to be part of the process or not.”

Noah’s expression shifted from disinterested to furious. He hated being overruled, especially on matters involving the band. Of course, the final word always had to be his, no matter the circumstances. But you couldn’t help feeling a flicker of satisfaction, seeing the guys finally speaking up for themselves.

Still, you knew this wasn’t the end of it.

A coffee at a shady diner in Dallas was exactly what you needed. As soon as you stepped off the bus, you checked your pockets, made sure everything was in place, and headed inside.

Drinking wasn’t enough anymore—alcohol no longer took the tension out of your body the way it once had. Over time, you’d started seeking something stronger.

After snorting the thin white line on the bathroom sink, you lifted your head, tossing your hair back as you stared at yourself in the mirror. Your reflection didn’t seem as drained now, and the world around you no longer looked as gray as before.

Leaving the bathroom, you adjusted your clothes and pulled the oversized hoodie tighter around yourself. When you sat down at a table, his eyes were the first thing you saw.

Noah knew you well. He could tell when something was off, and the way his brows furrowed spoke volumes about his thoughts.

“I already ordered for you,” he began flatly, scanning the menu without much interest. “Chocolate cupcake and a cappuccino.”

Your favorites.

“I’m not hungry.” You craned your neck, scanning the room for the guys, but there was no sign of them. Resigned, you sighed. “You can have my share.”

The diner smelled great, but the scent of coffee turned your stomach, empty for nearly two days. You had no appetite, and the unease in your chest seemed to seep into every part of your body. Across from you, Noah ate like a starved man.

You almost laughed, noticing how ravenous he must have been as he downed two sandwiches in record time.

"Since when did you start biting your nails again?" Noah asked, pulling you out of your thoughts as he gestured with his chin toward your hand, partially hidden by the hoodie’s sleeve.

You used to bite your nails until the skin around them was raw and scabbed, a habit born from your anxiety. When Noah noticed, he helped you stop, gradually teaching you to redirect that nervous energy. Writing, singing, breathing, thinking of things you loved.

It used to work.

“I…” You took a deep breath, almost forgetting to exhale as your eyes met his worried expression. Noah wiped his fingers on a napkin, and that’s when you noticed the silver ring on his index finger.

The ring you’d given him.

“I was just bored.”

“We have a radio interview at Rock FM today. Just you and me,” he said, the words heavy as if speaking them required effort. “If you’re not feeling up to it, we can reschedule.”

“I feel fine.”

“That’s not what it looks like.” Noah placed his coffee cup on the table, his gaze sharp and steady, his voice dropping to avoid attracting attention from other patrons. “You can fool Matt and the guys with your excuses, but not me. I know damn well why you’re anxious and why you’ve lost your appetite these past few days, so don’t treat me like I’m stupid!”

“You’re making assumptions about me and don’t want to be called stupid?”

“Caring about you and what’ll happen if you keep acting like you’ve got infinite lives isn’t making assumptions!” he shot back through gritted teeth, pointing a finger for emphasis. “Do whatever the hell you want with your life—you’ve made it clear you don’t give a damn about what I think—but the band is still our only connection, and you need to respect that!”

You rubbed your face, trying to rein in your frustration before meeting his gaze again. Noah was a puzzle. On one hand, he was openly admitting to a sliver of concern for the self-destructive path you were on. On the other, it was clear his priority was keeping the band out of jeopardy.

“Yes, sir.” You saluted sarcastically, pushing back from the table to stand. “Don’t worry, I’ll show up for the damn interview.”

Blowing out a puff of cigarette smoke on the balcony, you caught the signal—it was time to head inside for the recording.

The Rock FM studio was a small room on the top floor of a downtown building. You and Noah arrived just in time, waiting as they finished soundchecks before starting.

Both of you worked hard to keep the cracks in your relationship hidden during public appearances—interviews, performances, band meetings, recordings. Together, you mastered a façade worthy of applause.

Noah took his seat, and you settled into the one next to him. After adjusting your headphones and pulling the mic close, you exchanged a fleeting glance before turning your attention to the interviewer. Noah, wearing a cap and sunglasses, was grinning so enthusiastically you had to check if he’d been abducted by aliens.

Meanwhile, you couldn’t stop fidgeting—tucking strands of hair behind your ears, crossing and uncrossing your legs, licking your lips, and biting the inside of your cheek. Thankfully, your own sunglasses shielded your expression, offering a small barrier of composure.

“Hey, everyone! Today we’re joined by the two vocalists of the most talked-about metalcore band of the moment, Bad Omens! First off, thanks for being here. As a fan, it’s an honor to have you in our studio!” the interviewer began.

“Thanks for having us,” Noah replied with a grin.

“To kick things off, I’d love for you to talk about the band’s creative process. We’ve watched your sound evolve, how you experiment with new collaborations, mixing styles, and pushing boundaries in your productions. How do you pull all of that together into such a cohesive final product?”

“We like to draw inspiration from just about anything, even things that seem totally irrelevant,” Noah said. “The sound of an egg frying, a broom sweeping, a slap on my dog’s belly—if you work with it creatively, it can turn into something really cool. Our lyrics aren’t always tied to real emotions, either.”

“Noah speaks for his own lyrics,” you interjected, your sarcasm cutting through as you flashed a smile that made him shift in his seat. “As for me, everything I’ve written for the band has always been deeply emotional. Real feelings. Real words. I want our fans to hear something I can stand behind with pride—something they can listen to and say, Yeah, that was written by her.”

"Wow! That’s amazing!" the interviewer concluded, oblivious to the tense atmosphere that had settled in the studio. "Could you tell us which composition had the biggest impact?"

"I believe it’s the song I’m currently writing," you replied confidently. "It talks about feeling trapped, but not exactly by visible strings. In real life, there are so many things that immobilize us—whether it’s a crappy relationship, a bad job, or a toxic friendship. Things that don’t let you break free from cycles because, in some way, you need them. These things keep you alive."

"Lyrics like these are interesting to experiment with sonically. Slow beats and intense growls post-chorus," Noah added.

"Let’s just say Noah isn’t much of a fan of lyrics like that," you teased. "He’s the kind of guy who prefers to mask his feelings with heavy and contradictory lyrics."

You heard Noah cough and couldn’t help but smile, knowing you’d hit the target.

"I don’t think this is the ideal place to debate my musical taste," Noah said with an awkward laugh. "But yeah, I don’t believe a song can define me—that’s something personal to me."

"Dude, that first segment was incredible, and it’s so cool to get inside the minds of the people behind our favorite songs!" the interviewer exclaimed.

He was trying to contain his enthusiasm, but honestly, it was starting to get on your nerves.

"But I couldn’t avoid asking something that’s been a hot topic on the internet for a while: There’s been a rumor that your relationship has been strained since the last Sick New World festival, and some cameras caught an intense argument backstage. After that, countless pages started reporting that you had a relapse with your alcohol and drug issues, blaming Noah as the cause of it resurfacing. How do you feel about that, and how do you ensure these kinds of distractions don’t affect the band?"

You felt the ground disappear beneath your feet.

The live stream of Rock Radio had over 100K people watching the interview in real time. He had just brought up a subject you’d been avoiding for months, the one that made you disappear from social media. You couldn’t bear the weight of guilt, having all those people point fingers at Noah as the culprit. You couldn’t stand being so weak as to relapse. You couldn’t handle having so many strangers scrutinizing your relationship until the day it ceased to exist, leaving nothing but a painful scar on your chest.

Your body froze, and you couldn’t manage a single word.

Noah's hand touched your leg, and you heard him softly say you didn’t need to answer any of that. Your heart was pounding so hard, and sweat beaded on your forehead, even though you weren’t hot.

On impulse, you stood up and stormed out of the studio, running down the hallway. Tears streamed down your face, and you watched the drops fall onto your jacket. Your chest burned, and you felt so lost wandering the streets that a taxi almost hit you as you crossed the road. The blaring horn snapped you out of your daze.

You felt an immense emptiness.

You felt guilty for the ruin of everything you’d worked so hard to build over the years, dragging along the people you loved in the process. Yet nothing seemed enough to pull you out of the quicksand that kept dragging you down.

At the bar, you bought a bottle of whiskey to drink alone, staring out the window at the storm forming outside while the men around you cheered for the football game score. The liquor burned your throat as you gulped it down, ignoring all the calls making your phone vibrate.

You just wished the feeling would pass and, for one minute, you could stop being yourself.

Hours later, after finishing the bottle, you tossed it at the first street corner. You were drenched from the rain, your makeup completely smeared. Standing on an avenue you knew well, you recognized the perfect destination since you couldn’t take another step.

Stepping out of the hotel elevator, you walked right past your door and headed for his.

You just wanted a crumb of comfort. You wanted him to tell you the same lies he always did—the ones that somehow managed to calm your heart. You wanted the touch, the kiss…

The kiss someone else was receiving when you opened Noah’s door and saw him on top of another girl.

Slowly, you chose to close the door, not waiting for Noah to say a single word.

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