♡︎ mark lee imagines ♡︎

studio muse [8:38 p.m.]

You were sitting in the studio with Mark after he dragged you there, convinced that you would be the inspiration to his new song. As it turns out, he was absolutely right and after no time, words started pouring out to the rhythmic strumming of his guitar.

"How do you do that?" you ask wide-eyed as he scribbles the new lyrics down in an old notepad.

"Do what?" Mark questions, not looking up from his notepad, frantically writing everything down before he could forget.

"I mean we've only been here, what, 20 minutes? And you've already written like half the song lyrics...," you gush, proud of how talented your boyfriend is. 

Mark finally puts his pen down, setting his guitar onto its stand before pulling you off your chair and into his lap.

"Smooth," you whisper, blushing and wrapping your arms around his shoulders. The sun had already set and the dim lights of the studio illuminate the beautiful angles of his face, complimenting his high, chiseled cheekbones and plump lips. Dark eyelashes fluttering, he stares into space, deep in thought. Reaching up to play with your fingers, Mark rubs his coarse thumbs over your knuckles, his other arm around your waist. The two of you sat in comfortable silence as Mark thought over his answer.

"Well like I guess...like, I don't know how to say this but like-you're like...you're kinda like my muse you know," he lets out a small laugh at his corny confession, "whenever like... I see you and whenever I'm with you it's like... like... I feel these things I've never felt before. You make me want to make music".

He's a stuttering mess, not one to open up like he just did. Mark's genuine words make your heart swell and you take a mental picture of the shy smile on his face as he tells you this. Right then, his face scrunches up in embarrassment as he tightens his grip on your waist before burying his face into your neck.

"Ah, I shouldn't have said it so weird I'm sorry," he cringes, voice cracking as he whines to himself. You laughed at how adorable he was.

"Mark, Mark look at me," you giggle while nudging his shoulder slightly.

He looks up sheepishly, face almost as pink as his hair. You suppress a laugh at the sight and continue, "I think that's the sweetest thing anyone has ever said to me, Mark. And you're the sweetest and most talented person I've ever met".

With that, you lean in and press a soft kiss to his lips to which he returned gently, nudging his chin forwards. You move your hand to cup his face and you feel his arm tightening around you, bringing you in impossibly closer. His lips tastes of the watermelon chapstick you gave him for Christmas. The thought of him still using it brings a smile to your kiss.

Pulling away to catch his breath, Mark rests his head against yours, his hair tickling your forehead and his nose brushing lovingly against yours. In a trance, he hums the song he just wrote about you and you close your eyes to take it all in.

Trailing tiny kisses across your cheek to your ear, he stops and nuzzles his face into your neck again.

"My muse"