Genre: angst, fluff [idol!mark, idol!Y/N, sort of exes to lovers]
Length: 5k+, teaser 100+
Release Date: March 2022 i hope
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Sitting next to your manager as she does a final read through of the apology she wrote for you to your fans, you can’t help but scoff.
Because you’re not sorry for going on that midnight date to the riverfront park.
You’re not sorry for sneaking around behind your management’s back.
Above all, you’re especially not sorry for falling helplessly in love with Mark Lee.
As you find his eyes across the conference room table as his manager begins reading out his own fake handwritten apology, you realize that in this industry love isn’t enough to sustain happiness.
After all, how could you and Mark be happy, if happiness just simply wasn’t meant for you two?
“Fuck, Chris, this shit is good.” You say, taking your second puff and handing the blunt back to him. As a naturally lazy-high person, you situated yourself further up on the bed to lean up against the plush pillows, watching Chris take his few hits. He’s hot, you’ve begun to notice. Like really hot. You never truly allowed yourself to think these thoughts about men who seemed just a little too attractive for you, not wanting to get your hopes up in any way. But fuck it, tonight you’re high and alone in a frat house bedroom with your current number one hoe’s roommate. Nothing’s off the table.
You take in the look of his lips as they slowly wrap around the blunt, his big sexy lips. Have you ever been so attracted to someone's lips before? You’re not sure you have. But if there was anyone to fawn over in this way, it’s definitely Chris Bang in front of you. Your eyes follow the blunt between his fingers and start to notice his hands, his arms, his shoulders. His veiny forearms leaning up against his knees as he stares at you stare at him. His free hand forming into a fist, accentuating his forearm veins.
Yeah, you’re definitely into Chris.
“Something on your mind?” He says, bloodshot and droopy eyes staring into yours, who have finally snapped out of gawking at his entire body.
“No.” You say, swallowing and sitting up straighter, immediately far more conscious of your posture and the potential rolls you’ve developed on your stomach and sides from slouching so hard.
“Oh,” He stands and makes moves towards the bed, sitting down on the edge, placing his hand right next to your knee and leaning back onto it, “I don’t think that’s true”
“I’m fine.” You say, stretching a hand out to ask for the blunt, expecting him to hand it to you.
Of course, Chris is nothing but a flirt, moving in closer, shifting his body so he’s sitting on his heels facing you, placing the blunt right in front of your lips, leaning in and resting one hand on your thigh, the other holding the blunt.
Shocked, excited, confused you take the blunt between your lips, taking the deepest inhale of the night.
“Good girl,” he whispers in a low growl, shamelessly letting his eyes trail down from yours to admire your chest as it rose with your inhale and fell with your exhale. Grabbing the blunt with one free hand, unsure of what to make of this situation now, you take another hit as Chris’ other hand moves to grip your waist. He moves so he is looming over you now, both of his hands on either side of your shoulders, one knee in the free space between your legs. Face to face, you finally meet in eye contact again. Letting the smoke fall out of your mouth, embracing how he looks over you.
“That’s enough for you.” He says, grabbing the blunt from your fingers and placing it on an adjacent ash tray on the bedside table. He’s still sitting over you, not moving, just staring at you with intensity, leaving no signs left unread in his eyes.
Finally he leans in, and your breath hitches and heartbeat rises. If he doesn’t kiss you soon, you’ll start shaking from the anxiety of this intimacy. He’s closer, but not making any extra moves, just staring still at your eyes. A shiver makes its way through your body in anticipation, causing your nipples to harden and perk. His eyes shoot down to your chest one last time, meeting your eyes again.
“Do it.” you say before Chris slams his lips into yours, your hands finding their way around his neck, pulling him closer.
Oh My God. This is it. Growing up your mom would tell you she thought you’d end up having a rom-com kind of love story. You never believed her, figuring you’d be doomed to swiping left and right until you found someone that you tolerated enough to spend the rest of your life with.
But this is totally unexpected. This is your rom-com moment. Holy shit, she was right.
You turn to see nobody but Jeongin running down the sidewalk. He’s still wearing his deep purple apron, and there’s a black glove on his left hand. He ran out after you on impulse, your heart can’t seem to get itself in check as he finally slows down to a jog as he approaches you. He’s about to give it to you, the grand love profession. Music swelling, rose petals falling from the sky, perfectly timed words and camera angle cuts. You’re ready. You want it.
“Jeongin? What- What do you need?” You can feel warm flames creep up your neck and find their home on your cheeks as you stare at him.
He smiles at you, bright and beautiful. He takes a moment to catch his breath before he speaks, “You forgot your laptop.” He says and oh. You forgot your laptop.
You try not to frown as you notice his non-gloved hand reach into the backpack he’s wearing and pass you your computer. You’re blushing even harder now, but for much different reasons than before, the realization setting in that you were too enthralled by your favorite handsome barista that you forgot your most expensive possession in a busy coffee shop right off campus.
“Thanks, Jeongin. I-” you laugh “I can’t believe I left it behind.” You take it from his hand and, oh God do you wish your fingers would brush as he handed it to you. How you wish the sparks would fly.
“No problem.” He says, wiping his hands on the sides of his jeans awkwardly and looking at you. He opens his mouth like he’s going to say something and then he closes it again. He looks sort of nervous? Like he doesn’t know what to do next, and honestly neither do you.
“Do you need anything else?” You ask, half a whisper. It’s probably the dumbest thing you could say, making it sound like you wanted him to leave and go back to work. You don’t, of course you don’t. You want your rom-com moment.
“Uh, no. Not, uh, really. Have… have a good day!” He says and turns back around quickly before you can let out a “you too.” You swear you see a shade of pink painting the back of his neck and ears as you watch him walk away, dumbfounded.
Walking home, all you can do is replay the interaction you just had over, and over, and over again in your head. The flurries of butterflies in your stomach don’t go away the entire rest of the night. You giggle like a high schooler when you picture his radiant smile whenever he crosses your mind, which is about every thirty seconds.
When you open your laptop later that evening to look up a recipe for dinner you’re met with a teal blue note folded neatly on your keyboard. It reads,
Y/N
i see the way you look at me, and i’ve been told i look at you like that too.
truth is you’re really beautiful and i really really want to take you out on a date.
People in the English department, whether it be faculty, staff, or fellow students called him by Johnny but you wouldn’t succumb to calling him by his preferred name. It made you seem closer to him than you really were and you despised that even being a possibility. You weren’t close. You were far from that.
Send me a word, if it’s in my sip document I’ll answer your ask with the sentence that it appears in.
