#not good at seo but i sure as hell am trying
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I know I'm always a weird pervert on main, but I SWEAR I am good as hell at writing/editing things and NOT JUST PERVERTED THINGS. I can write you a poem or song! A horror story! High fantasy! Slice of life! Just ask, whatever you're looking for I am sure I can provide. DM me or hit me on Discord at anouther to ask about commissions!
I do:
-creative writing comms
-technical writing comms
-poetry comms
-editing comms
-beta comms (ONLY FOR FINISHED, ALREADY EDITED MANUSCRIPTS)
I do have standard rates mostly figured out but am happy to negotiate as long as I'm not lowballed. If you're looking for writing-related commissions, I'm your guy!
#writing commissions#self promo#self promotion#advertising#please boost#please reblog#writerblr#writers on tumblr#self employed#editing services#writing services#not good at seo but i sure as hell am trying#also not good at pr note the swearing#but i am here and queer and i write somethin fierce
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Pairing : Dad!Seo Changbin x F!Reader
TW : children ; reader is pregnant but it's not really important in this ; Changbin being an absolute sweetheart ; it's still fluffy ;
Word Count : 1.4k
Request : nope!
His cellphone vibrated against the desk as he worked with Chan on a new song for the upcoming album, your cute, yet slightly cringy contact name in bold at the top of the screen. “Answer it, it might be important.” Chan said when he was Changbins hand twitching towards the device.
With Chans affirmation, he quickly answered the call and slipped out of the little studio, standing in the hallway trying not to panic. It was unlike you to call when he was working, not unless it was an emergency. “Hey sweetie, everything okay?” He said, his voice laced with a slight panic.
There was reason for his panic, although you thought it was quite silly, but with his son being in kindergarten and you being close to your due date with his daughter, he was always on edge when he was away from home, even if he was only a couple blocks away at the studio. “Everything is fine. I just got a call from the school though…”
A call from the school is never good, but your voice sounded all too calm for it to be an actual emergency, at least medically. “Well what’s wrong? Is he in trouble?” It was the immediate next thought that he had, but he couldn’t imagine what Changmin could have done to get in such a situation. His son was perfect, a sweetheart just like him and kind to everyone. There was no way in hell he could have done anything wrong.
“No, he isn’t in trouble at all. I actually think he deserves a whole day out with you, treats and maybe a little gift.” You said, a hint of sass seasoning your words just enough for Changbin to slightly understand that he was the one who had done something wrong. The only problem was that he couldn’t quite think of what that could be.
“Did… something happen? Am I missing something?” Changbin said, a little more quiet now as he tried to think hard on what it was that he possibly could have done. He made sure to pack Changmins lunch and give him his goodbye hug and kiss when he dropped him off at school that morning. He couldn’t possibly be missing anything else.
You sighed loudly, another sign that he was the one who had messed up. Luckily, you weren’t the type of wife that beat around the bush for long and you got straight to the point, although in this case, it made Changbin feel worse. “It was parent day up at the school. Everyone brought in their fathers, and MinMin was so excited for you to come up there. He told his friends all about you, how you’re a famous rapper and everything and… you forgot about him. He was crying, that’s why the school called. I had to talk to him for an hour to try to console him and tell him you didn’t forget.”
Parent day… right… how could he have forgotten? He promised Changmin that morning that he’d be there. “Shit… baby I’m so sorry… Is he okay? Fuck. I’ll be right up there, I promise. I’ll take him out for ice cream after school and I’ll get him that new toy he was asking for.” He was already in the process of grabbing his things, holding his phone between his shoulder and his ear as he wrote a little note to Chan letting him know he had to go up to the school. “I’m on my way up now. I’m so so sorry. Am I a bad father?”
The sigh that escaped you was much softer now through the phone as he ran to his car, almost tripping over his own feet in the process. “No, Binnie. You’ve just got a lot going on. Don’t drive too fast, I’ll call the school and let them know you’re coming so they can tell MinMin.”
That night, Changbin sat on the edge of Changmins bed, watching as his son clinged onto the new stuffed animal that Changbin had bought for him after school, his sons eyes drooping lower and lower, but never closing completely. “You didn’t have to come…” The boy said, his fingers brushing through the still soft fur of the stuffed lion.
“Yes I did, I made a promise.” Changbin explained, grabbing the tail of the toy and waving it back and forth. “I can’t break a promise, not unless I really can’t do it.” He continued, letting out a yawn and silently hoping that his son would mimic the motion and drift off to sleep.
“But what if… I made a promise to my friends that I could do like… a bajillion push uppies like you do on the bar… But I can’t do it?” His son's wide boba like eyes looked up at him finally and Changbin was conflicted on whether he should laugh or feel bad for his boy who made such a silly promise. Having children was a journey that never failed to astound him and humor him every single day.
“Well… I can’t do a bajillion push uppies either, not all at the same time though.” Changbin laughed softly, the sound coming through his nose. “That was a silly promise to make though, why would you promise that?” He inquired, grabbing his son's hand and tapping along his fingers.
“They say that if you are my real dad, that I should be strong like you…” The reasoning was more upsetting than Changbin expected, and without a word, he scooped his son up onto his lap and squeezed him into the tightest hug he could muster. “Shouldn’t I be strong though…? Just like you?” Changmin asked once Changbins arms slightly loosened, leaning back to tilt his head up to look at his father questioningly.
“It took me a really long time to get this strong… If you were as strong as me already… I’d actually be a little worried.” Changbin tried to joke lightly, although his mind was still reeling, wondering whether he should be upset or pissed off that children at the school were questioning whether he was MinMins real father. “But you know what makes you extra strong?” He quizzed, and Changmins eyes widened with wonder, waiting for Changbin to give him the answer. “Getting a lot of good sleep. That’s how you build strong bones and strong muscles… and an even stronger mind.”
He sat with his son a little longer, rubbing his back and singing softly to him until he was sure that the boy was in a deep sleep before tiptoeing out of the bedroom, making sure not to step on any of the creaky floorboards on the way to the door. “You’re the best dad, you know that, right?” You whispered from just outside the door, your voice coming through the dark causing him to jump and you brought your hand to your mouth to muffle your laughter.
“It’s not funny… those kids don’t think I’m his dad… Why?” Changbin sulked over to the couch and you padded quietly along behind him, dropping down onto the cushion beside him and curling up against his side. “That’s just crazy… Do you think their parents are making them say stuff like that? He promised to do like… a bajillion push uppies… He can’t do that…” He continued rambling, but you quickly silenced him with a kiss, one hand cupping his cheek as the other held you up just enough to look at him.
“Kids never remember their promises… Just like he didn’t remember that he promised to help me clean his room this weekend. Don’t get so worked up over it.” You cooed softly, your thumb brushing over his cheek soothingly. “I think you need some sleep… We all do. Come to bed with me.” He nodded slowly, getting up first to help you off the couch and leading you to the bedroom.
“Do you think I’ll be a good dad for her too though?” He asked as he pulled the blankets back on your side of the bed, waiting for you to lay down before brushing his fingers along your swollen stomach. “I don’t want to let any of them down…”
“Binnie…” You murmured his name, placing your hand on top of his and giving it a light squeeze. “I don’t think you’re able to be anything but a good father to both of them. Our babies are so lucky… You really need to stop worrying. Get some rest, cuddle me… Anything… Just, stop thinking so bad about yourself. MinMin loves you, I love you, and she’s going to love you just as much.”
“Promise?” He whispered, sounding and looking almost childlike, and you bit your bottom lip to keep from giggling at just how cute he looked right now.
“I promise…”
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#kpop fanfic#kpop headcanons#kpop drabble#kpop imagines#kpop scenarios#yandere kpop#kpop#stray kids#skz#stray kids x you#skz x you#stray kids x reader#skz x reader#stray kids headcanons#stray kids imagines#stray kids drabbles#stray kids fanfic#stray kids scenarios#skz headcanons#skz imagines#skz scenarios#skz fanfic#skz drabbles#seo changbin#changbin#changbin headcanons#changbin scenarios#changbin imagines#changbin x reader#changbin x you
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private session for free // seo changbin x reader
pairing: seo changbin x reader
contains: fluff, personal trainer seo changbin, date invitation
"okay, maybe it's not that bad." i said to myself while looking at my reflection in the glass doors.
i've moved to a new city a month ago and i've finally built up the courage to get out of the apartment after work and try a new gym. back in my hometown, i'd visit the gym once a week for the fitness class and i loved it. perfect amount of a workout and fun.
if someone would try to call me a gym rat i'd laugh in their face. do i like going to the gym? like the actual gym? hell no. i always hated the PE classes at school and i still remember all the times when the coach would scream at us because we couldn't hit the ball right or run for longer than 5 minutes without a break. it wasn't until the coach got sick in the middle of the last semester and we got a new PE teacher that i started to enjoy something gym-related.
our new teacher introduced us to fitness and she would hold one class a week. that was the only time i had fun. after graduating and starting a job i decided to try fitness in my free time and it became a part of my friday. everyone would go to clubs on fridays but me? i'd get my bag and go straight to my favourite gym in the city.
now after moving for a new job, i had to find a gym in the city that's not only close to me but also feels good - the right vibes have to be there - otherwise it's not fun at all. i did my research on maps to see where the closest gym is and i found one 5 minutes away from my apartment so after work i went home, grabbed my bag and i came here.
now, as i'm standing in front of the doors i'm thinking if i'm at the right location. everything inside looks so - black and white. no character to the place and i'm rethinking my decision to come here. but hey, momma didn't raise a quitter.
as i'm opening the doors and stepping into the gym i hear lots of very upbeat music. "okay, i can still turn around and go back home." and as i'm about to turn around a lady behind the desk pops up.
"hey! welcome to hitshOt, the only gym in the city where nobody judges you. is it your first time here?"
"yes, hello. i was thinking about signing up for the gym membership."
"awesome!" the girl behind the desk has a name tag and while i'm coming up to the desk i read that her name is dabin. "we don't offer any free trials but we offer the best equipment and the best personal trainers so i'm sure you'll find something for yourself here."
"oh actually, do you offer any fitness classes? i'm not interested in the typical "macho" stuff. i prefer something more... fun."
"i'm so sorry but we don't. we're in the process of firing more staff and maybe one day. but hey, you can go in and take a look around and if you decide to stay you can pay me once you'll be going out." am i disappointed? yes. this is the closest gym to me and the ratings were high but if there's no fitness this is not a place for me.
"well... i'm sure the gym is amazing but no thank you. i'm not interested. to be honest with you Dabin i hate working out in a gym because it seems like everyone is waiting for you to fail. i'll keep an eye on your website to see if there are any fitness classes in the future though."
as i'm picking my bag from the floor i can hear a strong voice behind me. "who said that the gym is only for the typical "macho" stuff? i'm pretty sure you can do anything in there and have fun." i turn around and see a very muscular guy who is definitely at the gym almost 24/7 - i mean who has arms like that and doesn't go to the gym? "do you think that maybe you could give the gym a chance with me?"
"and who are you?"
"changbin. i'm a personal trainer here and before you say anything - i'm willing to get you on a private session with me for free. i've got time since the person who was scheduled didn't show up and i can show you around and maybe you'll decide to stay with us."
"and what if i don't want to try out the gym with you?"
"i can take you out for a coffee and convince you that working out can be just as fun as fitness."
shocked i start to wonder why this guy is so keen on getting some one-on-one time with me. i won't lie he is handsome and i'm all for the meet-cutes but something seems fishy.
"i can see you haven't decided yet, so i'll be in the cafe next door," he says and walks up to me. when he stands next to me he whispers "the coffee and the private session will be on me, beautiful. no matter what time."
and what do i do? i say bye to dabin and walk out of the gym and head to the cafe.
you never say no to a free coffee. and a private session with a "macho" like that.
#stray kids#seo changbin#changbin#stray kids x reader#stray kids fluff#stray kids imagines#stray kids drabbles#changbin x reader#changbin fluff#stray kids x you#personal trainer seo changbin
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Ooh! Ooh! Can we have a little fic with Izzy and Lucius bonding over stealing/pickpocketing? Maybe even some kind of competition to see who gets the most or the best thing or something? (Since you said you need to include how Izzy loves to steal lol.)
(YES I DID, this one came to me so immediately I had to write it right away)
Izzy: I have a job for you.
Lucius: No thanks, I believe in keeping sex and money separate.
Izzy: why would I start paying you now after two years of getting it for free?
Lucius: Okay, never mind, now I want to start charging cause you’re a dick.
Izzy: I can’t afford to pay you what you’re worth.
Lucius: You’re rich as hell.
Izzy: yes.
Lucius: Ok. You’re forgiven, that was sweet. What’s the job?
Izzy: I’ll tell you when you come over.
Lucius: Tease.
As soon as Lucius was in the door, Izzy told him and Lucius had to stop himself from letting out an unholy squeal. Then realized he didn’t have to and made the noise anyway which Izzy laughed at.
“Yeah, I knew you’d like it.”
“I LOVE it! Thank you. So do I get a cut or is this just to let me have some fun?”
“Both,” Izzy assured him. “You’re officially a Callahan Investigations contractor on this one. I’ve got paperwork and everything.”
“I love this so much,” Lucius told him earnestly. “When did you start getting jobs like this?”
“Read and Jim stress tested a system last year and we just added it to the list on the website SEO and things. Got a few home jobs, word spread, this is the first corporate one.”
“Amazing. How much do I get to know going in about the system?”
“How much would you have known as a sticky fingered high schooler?”
Lucius grimaced, “Probably not enough. I mean I’d look for cameras, pay attention to the sales people, but I was mostly running on adrenaline and hormones. And I got caught as you reminded me once upon a time.”
“That was bad luck, I read the police report.”
“You know that’s supposed to be sealed.”
“Uh huh,” Izzy shrugged. “So that’s what you’ll know. I’m going in hardened professional for bigger stuff, you’re doing the high school five-finger discount stuff.”
“Don’t underestimate a souped up seventeen year old, I got some decent stuff over the years,” Lucius warned.
They made eye contact, exchanged grins.
“If I win, I want you to be my date to the ballet with Stede and you have to be civil to him the whole time.”
“Oh, pup,” he groaned.
“High stakes,” Lucius agreed. “What do you want if you win?”
Izzy considered, then grinned, “Hike.”
“Ohhh fuck you,” Lucius wrinkled his nose. “How long?”
“At least two hours. And no complaining.”
“Oh my god, that is so motivating, I am going to rip the hell off of this place. What happens if we get caught by the way?”
“The head of security is clued in and on duty. So he can see what his guards do if they do catch us out. She’ll intervene before anything serious happens.”
“Good to know, but I meant with the bet.”
“If the other person hasn’t caused it to happen?” Izzy lifted his eyebrows.
“Hey! I resent that. I’m an honest thief,”Lucius protested.
“Yeah sure. If the person gets caught cause they slipped up or the new system got them, then they lose by default.”
“Deal.”
They had the date and a general window of time. Lucius went in first. He was dressed more simply than usual, just jeans and t-shirt that he’d gotten out of Izzy’s drawers. There was a cashmere knit cardigan in a subtle gray, an old gift from Stede, and a pair of Charlie’s sunglasses, left behind one day. He looked like young money trying to play it cool.
The store was large, an upscale department store with counters and lots of salespeople scanning the room for potential money. Lucius smiled at them, acknowledging then slipped by with a,
“‘Scuse me, just looking,” and a wink. Just obnoxious enough to be plausible, not so annoying as to be memorable.
Izzy had considered a similar tactic, but he was too memorable these days (sometimes he considered eradicating the face tattoo just for ease, but then he’d just have to look at it and the memory of the moment rushed back to him. How could he part with that?). Instead, he leaned into it, gave himself a mobster look, slicking back his hair and wearing a gold chain that he bought at a pawn shop, along with a flashy watch that he’d taken off a dead man years ago then never worn.
“You look like a guy who thinks he’s tough,” had been Read’s evaluation. “But would probably cry if someone hit him.”
“Perfect,” Izzy nodded. “You good out here?”
“Sure thing,” she laughed, reclining in the passenger seat. “Call me if you need backup.”
“You are quick,” he hesitated, then shook his head. “I’d never hear the end of it if I cheated.
“I meant with security,” she giggled. “I’m not aiding in whatever you two have going.”
Izzy went in, and gave the first salesperson he saw a sharkline grin, “I’m looking for a gift for a lady. Think you could help me out? Needs to be a stunner.”
“Of course Mister....”
“Black,” Izzy offered. Mostly because it would amuse Lucius if he overheard it and because it sounded fake as hell.
“Excellent, Mr. Black,” the salesperson didn’t flinch. “I’m Fiona, happy to help you today.”
Fiona was a treat. She took him straight to the jewelry counter with its weighted sensors and high tech gadgets. There were cameras everywhere. Izzy’s grin was very very real. What fucking idiots.
“Can I see that ring?” he asked, pointing to a big diamond.
“Thinking of asking the big question?” Fiona asked lightly.
“Is that what that says? Nah, nah, this is a new bird, you know. Want to make her happy from the jump. What would you like from a new guy?”
“Oh!” Fiona, clearly seeing commission numbers, drifted to a series of tennis bracelets. “Something that said he really cared, you know? What does she like?”
And it was on.
An hour later, he strolled out the store with a little bag containing an actual purchase, free and easy. Lucius was already in the backseat of the care, telling Read something with a wide smile.
“How’d it go?” Izzy slid into the driver’s seat.
“Can’t wait to show you. Where do we do this?”
“Owner’s office, a block away in an office tower.”
“He doesn’t work in the store?”
“Nope,” Izzy snorted.
“That explains a lot. What a dumbass.”
They rode the elevator up to a very high floor, into the kind of office that Izzy considered to be purely asshole territory. Flint’s was modest compared to this shit.
“Ah! Mr. Hands!” The owner got up from his desk, smiling his fake smile. It was upsettingly like looking at a CGI’d person. He held out a hand, “How did you find our new little system? Quite extraordinary isn’t it? My chief of staff said you didn’t get away with a thing. Though they didn’t catch you in the act. Give up?”
Izzy shook it, and then just for fun, did a coup d’etat.
“Wouldn’t say that,” Izzy had left his lawfully purchased item in the car. So he just started pulling from his pockets. “Read, total it?”
“On it!” She whipped out her phone.
Onto the owner’s desk he dropped three diamond tennis bracelets, two engagement rings, four pairs of precious gem earrings, and a heavy necklace that had had a pricetag that made his nose bleed.
“How?” The man demanded. “Those cases are monitored like hawks!”
“I’m fast,” Izzy said dryly. “Luc?”
“Okay, so your floor staff needs better training. Like all of them. Don’t fire them,” Lucius said sternly. “They were really trying, but they clearly didn’t know what to look for,”
“Of course they’ve been trained.”
“Yeah, no,” Lucius scoffed. “Because I talked one of them up after I left, met them in the alley, and you know they never got any onboarding and your great head of security told him not to ‘worry his pretty head about it’, so you know. Great work there.”
“Alvin would never!” the owner’s eyes went wide.
“Sure,” Lucius shrugged and then he started emptying his pockets. And emptying. Scarves in a dozen shades, leather wallets with gold clasps, a designer clutch, a perfume bottle. Then he took off his sweatshirt and removed the blazer he’d put on under that. Then his t-shirt came off and he had several more shirt on under that.
“Thin garbage,” he explained. “Really overpriced for the quality, hella easy to hide.”
“That it?” Izzy asked, looking down at the very impressive pile.
“Oh, and this,” Lucius flipped a last bit of gold on top. “That’s your head of security’s wedding ring. I’m sure his wife would like that back.”
“Reminds me,” Izzy dropped the owner’s watch on top of the pile.
“How!” The man protested, fishing it out and sliding it back on his wrist.
“Maybe take a look back at all your nice footage,” Izzy shrugged. “Wonder if they got our faces?”
“Doubt it,” Lucius frowned. “I think I spotted most of the cameras. The pinholes kind of glisten?”
“They do not!” The owner banged a hand down on his desk. “Get out of here! You’re a lot of thieves!”
“Yes,” Izzy said dryly. “That’s what we were hired to do. And we’d better get paid for it.”
“How do I know you don’t have more on you?” The owner hissed. “MAybe I should have you arrested!”
“That’ll look great,” Izzy agreed. “Definitely have the cops show when we have a written and singed contract that you asked us to do the job. And I definitely will sue your company within an inch of its life for harassment and violation of contract. None of us want your shiny bullshit. We did the job. Sorry your expensive system sucks. Not here to impress your shareholders. Let’s go.”
Izzy turned heel and Lucuis and Read followed him out. They were silent leaving, a little tense, in case the owner made good on his threat, but they got out and safely into the care.
“What a dick,” Lucius declared.
“Yeah, jokes on him though. I made that contract a bitch. If they try and stiff me, it’s not going to go well,” Izzy snorted. “So what’re our totals?”
“Depends on how you want to calculate,” Read got out her phone. “Lucius got more individual objects, obviously. You got a few higher priced bits, so you definitely got more.”
“Check the price on the clutch,” Lucius said, apparently untroubled.
“The purse thing?” She checked. Lucius gave a nod. “Uh...ok....oh. WHAT?! Who pays that much for a bag? That’s insane!”
“That’d designer, baby,” Lucius said smugly.
“He beat you,” Read told Izzy. “But like only a hundred dollars, but yeah.”
“Goddamnit,” Izzy sighed.
He got his own back a little once they were back at the apartment though.
“Holy shit that was so fun,” Lucius was still clearly riding a high, tossing the sweatshirt into the hamper. “I almost missed that.”
“Only almost?”
“Yeah, the panic that sets in after I could do without. At least this time I knew we weren’t going to get arrested and that they’d call my mom or something.”
Izzy set the bag on the dresser and Lucius finally zeroed in on it.
“What’s that?”
“For you,” he shrugged.
“You...actually stole something?” He frowned.
“Nope. Got the receipt and everything. Sometimes it helps to actually buy something. Makes it seem less likely you’d be stealing too.”
“Yeah, makes sense. But why not get something generic?”
“Dunno. Liked it.”
Lucius drew out the box inside and opened it, then barked a laugh. He turned it upside down, a flurry of security tags drifting out. Then a tiny metal ‘tink’.
“I can’t believe you collected them, you asshole,” Lucius shook his head, then seemed to register the ‘tink’. He searched through the little pile and pulled out a flash of metal. “Is this...oh, wow.”
It wasn’t really much compared to some of the things he’d lifted. It was a silver tiepin with a glimmer of obsidian running through it.
“Figured it would look good with your ‘going to the theater’ getup. Since we’re head to the ballet, apparently.”
“You knew you’d lose?” Lucius clutched the tiepin.
“You had the better position, really. I knew I couldn’t get at the really high end stuff and you’ve got a better eye than I do for clothes and things,” he admitted. “Seemed likely.”
“I love you,” Lucius told him, very sincerely. “But you are so goddamn spooky sometimes.”
“You too, pup,” Izzy laughed. “You too.”
He got kissed anyway and that was really all he was aiming for.
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i had an interaction today w someone on twitter that is rly sticking w me like. it was someone offering bluesky invites to "artist followers" n im like. well ive posted art on here before ill shoot my shot. and their reply was "sorry im trying to prioritize helping content creators get settled"
i want to make it clear i am not mad or upset at them at any way i know they meant the best by this i mean no ill will towards them and im sure they mean none towards me
but also the 'well ur only a content creator if ur good' or 'ur only a content creator if u post regularly' or 'ur only a content creator if you have a significant following' is so... disheartening to people who are just dicking around on the internet
like 2013 deviantart was so freeing. you werent 'making content' you were drawing your ocs because it was fun and people would see that! see that u were loving what u were doing and having fun! and theyd compliment you for Just That and that was like, the primary way youd make friends back then, finding people whos weirdness clicked well with your weirdness
and now its just... optimized seo hell for everyone, companies and people, and its so depressing. wheres the social part? wheres the humanity?
like if you mean professionals/talented artists/people with some kind of following/whatever just say that! i promise u we amateurs know were just amateurs fmasdb
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A little rant on the quality of writers' resources or: how to find good advice on writing
And if not a rant, then at least a little bitter observation.
I am recently grabbing a lot of books that tackle the problem of structuring the story - because I am attempting to outline my novel and that is a big task.
And some books are helpful, like the book I have mentioned before - "Writing Fantasy & Science Fiction" by Orson Scott Card.
But others, I can't help but feel, are a waste of paper. That sounds harsh, but I have just opened one such book, read several pages, and then closed it because it feels like a waste of my time. Even if I am not busy. There was just very little value from this book.
It occurred to me that nowadays people print out what should have maybe stayed on their blogs. When one is researching a topic and sharing the results of the research, that is cool and often helpful, but I have this inherent expectation that when I grab a book, I get to interact with an expert. And yes, I understand how it's very much not the case nowadays, and what do I expect, and that I should know better, but... Eh, I guess this rant is about my annoyance with the quality of printed resources.
If one tries to look for books on the craft of writing, there are so many to chose from! It is so hard to pick! And it's so hard to sort the wheat from the chaff, and when one picks wrong at first, they might get misled into believing that all such books are useless.
If I might give one hint towards what can help with discerning which book to go for, just google the author. Really. If they have published several novels and are often asked for advice in writers' podcasts like "Writing Excuses", that might be a hint.
If they are a "creative writing major and an aspiring novelist" and are working on their first novel, then... yeah, maybe also take it as a hint. Or they have several self-published novels, but most of the popularity they get not from the novels themselves but from talking about the novel writing...
Like, I am not saying it's not okay to write about writing when you're just working on your first novel. Hell, I am literally posting on it myself. But sometimes I get the feeling some of those people put more of their effort into blogging and social media marketing than in actually working on their novel, and that's their choice, but maybe this choice turns them more into bloggers than novelists.
My point is, if you are an aspiring writer looking for real writing advice, make sure to get this advice from experienced published writers.
I think Brandon Sanderson has some videos on YT on the craft of writing and boy, the quality of the video is crap, but the quality of the advice is pure gold. Meanwhile, oftentimes when you listen/read the bloggers and social media posters, the audio/video quality is wonderful. It's just that the content is lacking.
So what I am trying to say is that writers are often not the social media ninjas that we see when we first google our question. To get to the good writing advice, one needs to learn how to dig deeper and lean into the old-fashioned web design and video quality from the 90s. Because the writers you want to get advice from have spent most of their time actually focused on the craft of writing, and not the craft of SEO and web design.
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domestic disturbance.
summary — there's a murder in the richest neighborhood of seoul and there's no better detectives to find the killer besides you and bang chan. or, in which you and chan have to be a pretend couple to catch a killer.
pairing — bang chan x reader
genre — fluff, crime, smut | detectives!au, fwb!au, fake marriage!au
word count — 21k words.
warnings — mentions of crime, ie, blood, killings, (one line of) gruesome murder scene, language, along with a whodunnit plot, mentions of cheating (not the main leads), and smut | smut specifications under the cut
smut specs. — established fwb!au where they know each other's limits already, dirty talk, praise kink, grinding, marking and hickeys, choking/asphyxiation, nipple play, breast play, sex in multiple places (on the table, against the wall, on the bed), blowjob, face fucking, deepthroating, cunnilingus, clitoral stimulation, cervical stimulation, edging, overstimulation, squirting, multiple orgasms, fingering, creampie, size kink. oh well!
note — this is part of the christmas collab i’m hosting with few other mutuals. i hated this fic and then fell in love madly with it, so yes, this is my baby. there is a plot and so it’s like 50% fluff, 30% crime and 20% smut, okay? i hope you enjoy this fic as much as i loved writing it! much love x
"Did I have to come in today?"
"Mayor Arsehole came in," you hear from the phone and you quickly hop off your bed, throwing the phone back on to the bed after putting it on speaker and rushing to the washroom to grab your toothbrush.
"What does he want now?"
You squeeze the end of the toothpaste carefully, pushing a good amount of toothpaste onto the bristles of the brush before shoving it into your mouth, brushing against the enamel of your teeth quickly and you rush back to your bed.
Chan, on the other end of the phone, plays with the pen on his table, clicking the piston on the top of the mechanical device. He watches the Mayor move his hands dramatically and the Captain trying to make the Mayor understand.
He gets back to you. Dropping the pen, he sits up straight, "Anyhow, come in quick. My gut tells me that they'll call us in, so make it quick. Wait—"
You rush back to the bathroom in a hurry, spitting into the sink and turning the tap on, quickly cleaning your mouth and your face, following a small skincare routine that fits your busy schedule.
"What?" You say after forever and Chan screams, "I knew it."
"Did you just wake up?"
"Yes," you respond, and pull your clothes up from your body and down by the side of the bed mindlessly.
"Holy shit," Chan laughs. "It's nine. Han's going to be so mad. He thinks you're in office already." You hear his chair reclining back and you roll your eyes. "Plus," his voice lowers and you stop in your tracks, hand midway to grab your faux leather jacket.
"What now?"
"I didn't even keep you occupied last night," Chan teases. "Imagine if I did."
"I'm hanging up, you bastard," you yell and Chan laughs, his laughter resonating through your small room and making you smile softly.
"Come quickly, little minx," and he hangs up. You hop back onto your bed, and pulling the pair of thigh high boots you always wear from underneath the wooden framing of the bed, you bury your feet into them and look at your phone.
Bang Christopher Chan is perhaps the only reason you are excited to go to work. That, and lying, murderous bastards.
Down at the station, twenty minutes later (still possibly the best record you've held so far), you rush into the office, heels clinking against the tiles and Chan's waiting for you by his cubicle, smirk prominent on his face and arms folded.
"The queen's here," he teases and you glare. Huffing as you pause right in front of him, you look over his shoulder to see the Mayor still talking to the Captain.
"I'm not late," you squeal, hitting the air in joy and Chan lets you have your moment before sitting back on his chair and breaking it.
"They called for us twice already," Chan tells you and you shudder at the impending doom. You can already feel Captain Han talking about cutting your paychecks for the month for tardiness. You sit on his table, one leg on the ground and the other dangling, heel slightly grazing Chan's black denims.
"What did you tell them?"
He picks up the pen and stares at you, clicking the pen. You narrow your eyes at him, staring at the pen and mumbling, "Stop that, Chan. I've told you it's annoying."
"I do it to annoy you. That's the whole point," he raises his eyebrows obviously and you click your tongue against him and move closer.
"Now," you press on. "What did you tell Ji?"
"Oh, that you have diarrhoea?"
"What the fuck?" And you bend forward, hitting the built man before you, your fists hammering down on his hard biceps and chest. "Why would you say that?"
Chan raises his hands in defense, trying to block as many of your hits as possible. He whines, laughing amusingly at your reaction. He holds your wrists quickly to halt your actions and tugging at them, pulling you closer, he raises an eyebrow, "What else am I supposed to say? That you didn't come in yet?"
You gulp, eyes widening in surprise at the sudden intimacy that you pull yourself away and sit straight, dangling your legs slightly. You tilt your head and look at him. Clicking your tongue in annoyance, you say, "Valid point you make there, sir."
"When have I not made valid points?" Chan leans back on his chair, arms folded and he looks at you intently, his eyes staring into your soul and you raise your eyebrows.
"Wh—"
"The two of you," you hear the voice boom through the room. Chan and you turn your heads to look at Captain Han Jisung pop his head through the slightly opened door and calling the two of you. "In my room, now."
"Uh oh," Chan mumbles under his breath as he stands up. "Someone's in trouble."
"It's probably you," you glare at him. Hopping off his table, you stand firmly on your boots, tapping your feet slightly in confidence. Chan walks forward and you take longer strides to keep up with him.
"It could never be me. I'm the district's star detective."
"When hell turns cold, yeah."
You and Chan step into Captain Han Jisung's office. He sits behind the wooden desk and Deputy Mayor Seo Changbin stands next to him. The glass walls behind him show a clear view of the beautiful city of Seoul. You smile as you proceed to sit before the Captain, leg on top of the other. Chan sits next to you.
The pictures from a file are scattered all over his table, facing the two of you and your hand instinctively reaches out to grab one. It's a man's body — gruesome enough with the blood that covers it — impaled brutally on the sharp fence spikes.
Chan's eyebrows shoot up and he coughs in surprise. He looks at Jisung with disdain for a short minute before he says, "That is totally not helping with my holiday spirits, Han."
"Captain Han," Jisung reaffirms as he looks at Chan with a glare and gestures at how he should show him respect at least in front of the Deputy Mayor. You chuckle slightly under your breath before putting the picture back on the table.
"What exactly are we looking at, Captain?"
Jisung clears his throat and bends forward to explain, "That is Kim Jihoon. Or at least whatever is left of him. He was found like this today morning by his neighbour. Apparently he fell three stories from his balcony. Kim Jihoon is a data analyst in Samaun Tech—"
"And more importantly, a model resident in the UN Village community." Changbin is stern and his eyes pierce into both yours and Chan's soul as if it demands the two of you to solve the murder right this minute.
"UN Village?" Chan's eyes narrow and your head turns so quickly to look at him. Does he know of the area? "That's the new gated community down in the city, right?"
Changbin scoffs, smirk plastered on his face as he looks away. "Yes, Detective. It's one of the most luxurious communities in Seoul. I'm sure you wouldn't know anything about it."
"Hey—" You raise your voice to come to Chan's defense. However, the man is quick himself.
"Oh, I'm pretty sure I have an idea what it is like. Just a bunch of rich old men sitting with their glasses of wine as they are locked away from the city's woes by their big high walls. I have watched enough Sky Castle."
You laugh, eyes wrinkling in mirth as you hear Chan take offense. You raise your hand up and your partner claps at it, laughing with you. Changbin scoffs again before turning to look at Jisung who clears his throat to stop the two of you from laughing and to bring your attention back.
"I've brought the two of you in here because you will be investigating the death of Jihoon."
"But—"
"It's Christmas in a few days!"
"We're not in office, Ji," you whine. "Felix and Soojin would be taking our shifts for that week. You gave us the permission after the last case. Don't you remember?"
"Is that how much you care about the citizens?" The mayor shoots at the two of you and for a minute, you cower in your seat, before Chan looks at you worriedly as you recoil.
"Hey, hey, hey," his eyebrows furrow together in anger at the Mayor and you worry if Chan's going to completely lash out. He never did like Changbin in the first place. That and now this and you know this could end bad. "We care enough about the citizens. But look at you. The Mayor comes down personally to hand in a case only when it's some rich community. What? Do you have an apartment there?"
"While you think this highly of me, I can't help but humble myself here," Changbin slams his fist down and Chan rises up. Uh oh! The Mayor edges forward as he continues, "I am very much concerned about the city as well."
"Please," Chan rolls his eyes. Jisung is about to pipe in and stop the conflict when Changbin continues proudly.
"I'll have you know that the UN Village is one of the most exciting residential areas to live in, in Seoul and is one of the most beneficial developments made in a decade here. If it is successful, I can drive almost millions to the city through estate taxes and commerce. And must I remind you of how that is the biggest point in my political agenda—"
"Your political agenda!" Chan is at his patience's end and your arm stretches out to grip at his shirt, to pull him back from fighting but your partner is so caught up in his anger that he doesn't feel you pull at him. "Must I remind you that you are still the Deputy Mayor!"
"Stop it, both of you!" Jisung slams his hands on the table and you let out an exasperated sigh as you sit up straight. "This is a murder and I won't have the two of you argue over here. Deputy Mayor Seo, if you are done conveying what you came here for, I will have to ask you to leave. I need to talk and assign work to my detectives."
"Absolutely," Changbin smiles widely — almost borderline fake — before walking away and reminding Jisung, "I hope you remember what I asked of you, Captain." He bangs the door shut and Jisung mumbles incoherent words under his breath. Needless to say, it was safe to presume they were words hoping good will for Deputy Mayor Seo Changbin.
"Now the two of you," Jisung points at both Chan and you. He gestures at the built man to sit down. "You will be taking this case up. I will not have a word against it."
"But—"
"Unless you want your sex tape to be released and the two of you want to be suspended for indecent public behaviour."
"What?" Both you and Chan tell at the same time, looking at each other in nothing but sheer confusion and shock at the same time. It was clear that you and him have not made a sex tape or publically — fuck. Unless it is that.
"I mean, I was definitely not interested in seeing my star detectives getting on with each other in the evidence room." Jisung raises his eyebrows.
"Are you blackmailing us, Han?" Chan's tongue prods at his inner cheek in frustration. Today was supposed to be a good day, so he wonders why things are going down the hill.
"I guess." He lifts an eyebrow at you and you click your tongue before leaning forward and taking the picture.
"Fine. I'm in."
"I don't mind getting a copy of the sex tape," Chan mumbles and you hit your partner with your elbow over his nonchalance. You are not going to get suspended. It was too much for your reputation.
"Good," Jisung smiles. You stare at the picture carefully, looking at how the sharp spikes of the fence pierces into the man's abdomen, pinning him to the fence. Chan is about to take the picture from your hand when you ask,
"This could be an accident."
Chan takes it and looks at it before nodding, "Yeah. You know how rich drunk people are. They might have partied too hard and stumbled and fallen off their balcony."
"I thought that," Jisung mumbles before searching through the pictures. He lifts one off the table and hands it to you. "Until I was informed that this is the second murder UN Village has witnessed in less than a month."
The photo Jisung hands you is of a woman. She lies face down, her stomach pierced through by the sharp spikes of the fence — a bloody contrast to the fresh greens in her yard.
"Why am I celebrating my holidays like this?" Chan groans, as he leans towards you, his arms touching yours. He looks at the pictures and then at you for a short while as he watches you observe the photo carefully. The gears in his head are turning and his emotions are an array of mess but he reminds himself to focus on the case in hand. That is exactly what you would have wanted him to do.
"She's Yoon Yerin, who lived just up the street from Kim Jihoon. She was found like this two weeks ago." Jisung points out.
"Can't still label murder, Han. As Y/N said, it could be just an accident. They could be drinking red wine and partying, screwing each other on balconies. Hell, I'm surprised that only two have died so far."
You suppress your amusement and look at Jisung who explains, "I thought the same as well, detectives. The possibility exists—"
"Heh," Chan lifts his lips slightly and nudges you, almost as if he is telling you that the two of you have lesser work to deal with.
"—but there is also a chance of an exceptional clever murderer behind all this. So please," he turns to look at both you and Chan with an extra intimidating glare, "Look at this case with an open mind."
"You've our word," you smile widely, keeping the photos back in the file.
"Thank you," the Captain looks comforted. "I cannot hear more from the Mayor, I swear to God. Now, you'll go into UN Village and investigate these deaths as soon as possible."
"And?"
"If there is a murderer, you must identify him as discreetly as possible and if these are just accidents, uhm," Jisung clears his throat, rubbing the back of his head, "We'll just put out a notice in talks of their safety, I guess."
Jisung stretches back in his chair, folding his arms and looking at the two of you proudly, "You guys are the best darn detectives we've got."
"Of course," Chan sneers. "Why else would you take our breaks away using some sex tape as some kind of blackmail? You're a nasty captain."
"He'll be forever salty about this, huh?" Jisung raises an eyebrow at you.
"Nah," you chuckle. "He's secretly overjoyed about being able to work during the holidays."
"As if!"
"We could just go now and investigate—"
"No, you cannot." Jisung sighs. "This is where I'm kind of helpless. The Deputy Mayor specifically mentioned how we are not allowed to poke around, cause chaos and make a scene."
"What? Why?" Chan slightly shifts in his chair, in agitation.
"It'll draw the media in like vultures."
"So?" You furrow your eyebrows. Why does this smell rotten?
"So, the two of you will go in under cover." Jisung smiles. "I doubt it would be an issue for the two of you."
"Undercover? Undercover as what?"
Twenty fours hours later, you are here.
A large group of suburbanites are gathered on a perfectly sculpted front lawn. They stand around the stainless steel barbeque rack and are talking. You gaze further, your back pressed against the big lorry that carries furniture to furnish the new house.
"I can't believe we're doing this," Chan sighs. He helps the man take out the sofas from the lorry. His biceps bulge and you smile, eyes lingering for a minute on the vein that is prominent over it.
"Please," you laugh, head thrown back. "When I said I wanted to get married, you were there in the list, yes," you tilt your head and snigger. "But you were definitely not my first candidate."
"Lies," Chan teases. "I was your only other candidate, work being the first."
"Don't make me throw this chair at you."
Chan laughs, taking the chair from your hand and walking back in to settle it down onto the floor. Your head shifts back to look at your new neighbours, two of them waving at you and making their way to you. Chan comes out of the house right then, watching the two walk towards you.
Chan bends down to the side to whisper to you, "Do we have to go speak to them? I—"
"Of course. We can't be rude to them."
Chan holds onto your arm, whining like a little child, "But why? I hate rich people."
"Because I'm your wife now," you scrunch your nose at the title. "Listen to me and go with the flow. Just remember that you're Bang Chan, leading specialist in maxillofacial surgeries, hoping to start over in this area of the city—"
"And you're my beautiful wife, my other half, Y/N," he lifts your hand after entangling them with his, your silver ring bright on display and he takes a step forward.
"Now let's go, honey!"
The other couple walks towards the two of you simultaneously, stopping midway upon reaching you. You tilt your head, shifting your gaze to a softer look as you look at the couple, before clutching onto Chan's hand a little tighter.
"Hi, I'm Y/N and this is my husband, Chan. We just moved right next door."
The tall man with a hair messy on top of his head smiles, although it seems very superficial. Yet again, Chan did mention how rich people could never smile sincerely. He tells you, stressing every alternate syllable, "It's so nice to have you here, Y/N, Chan. We are so glad you could shift right before our Annual Holiday Barbeque."
He stretches his arms out towards Chan. Your partner heaves a huge sigh in silently before holding his hand and giving it a firm shake. The other man continues, "I'm Park Rowoon, the president of the local homeowners' association and this beauty here is my wife, Jieun."
Jieun's face contorts into a huge, gleaming and completely insincere grin. She holds onto her husband's bicep, fingers digging into the flesh, "Well, isn't he a dear?" She laughs high pitched. "It's so nice to meet you." She rushes forward to hug you, her arms wrapping around your frame and giggling into your frame. You hug her back, albeit awkwardly, laughing slightly at the gesture.
On the other hand, Rowoon extends his arms out to take Chan's hand in for a shake. The hand holds his, and squeezes it hard enough to hurt as he raises an eyebrow at him. Chan jolts in surprise, trying to squeeze back as he grits his teeth.
You pull back from Jieun and notice the two males holding each other's hands so tightly that it has turned pale. Chan does not seem to back out and rather squeezes back further every single time Rowoon's grip on his tightens. That is, until the older male pulls his hand back and looks at Chan, after shaking his hand a little bit, flexing it.
"You okay, baby?" Jieun rushes to her husband's side, and wrapping her arms around his, she just out her lower lips and looks at him with a dazed and madly-in-love look, "Are you hurt?"
"Nah," he pulls at the dead skin of his lips. "Just the old carpal tunnel acting up. Age, right?" He laughs, locking a fixed gaze at Chan and you quickly rush to his side, locking your arms with his as you laugh.
"Definitely. Don't worry about it. You still look as young and charming as ever."
Rowoon laughs before asking you, "So you're shifting right next door, huh?"
"Yes!" You lift up your lips a lot more than when you usually smile. "Did you see our moving truck? It was quite immediate but I'm glad. This society is so good and just right enough to start a family together." Chan's eyes widen and he looks down at you, nostrils flaring in surprise as he chokes on air. You stand on your toes, kiss his cheek before settling down and smiling at the couple before you. "I desperately want to."
Family? With you? Fuck.
"Y-yes," Chan's breath hitches and he gets the word out. He'd be down to start a family with you but how could he even suggest a relationship when you just look at him like a friend? A friend who you can come to when you're needy and sexually frustrated.
"My husband's very observant. He saw your truck the other day itself!" Jieun exclaims proudly.
Chan's eyebrows shoot up as he stares at the man. He doesn't already like him and one more wrong step and he is ready to pin some crime down on him. Rowoon is flattered by his wife's comment.
"I do like to keep a close eye on the neighborhood. After all, vigilance is the first step in ensuring a beautiful and safe community. Talking about which, I couldbt help but notice that you have a bird feeder."
Rowoon stares hard at the wooden bird feeder behind the two of you. Chan and you turn to look at and he laughs. You look proudly at it. A heirloom – almost – of yours, Chan (and Jisung) agrees to let you bring it with you. (They agreed to it when you explained how your neighbors hated you and they would harm it the minute you left sight of it for a long time.) You look at Rowoon with eyes so bright as you begin to explain. Your partner, on the other hand, arms still locked with yours, looks at you with stars beneath his eyes and you are responsible for them. It's admiration. Sheer, peak admiration.
"It's an antique, you know. My grandfather carved it himself out of—"
"Yeah, great, that's lovely." Rowoon cuts you off and the smile disappears off your face, your eyes losing their shine. Chan clutches his fists in anger, head shooting back to face the stupid old man for making his wife mad — his partner sad. The old man continues, "The thing is wooden bird feeders are against the UN Village Homeowners' Charter."
"They are?" You look back at the wooden bird feeder. You bite on the lower lip to hide your disappointment, eyes squeezing shut to hold yourself alright.
"I'm afraid so." You turn your head back to look at him. Chan quickly unlinks his arms from yours and you look at him, worriedly. Was he going to start a fight? Please, God, no. You glance in worry till he interlocks his fingers with yours as he holds your hand tightly. The warmth seeps through you and your lips pucker unknowingly at how comforted you feel.
Rowoon continues explaining, "They tend to give off a country farmhouse vibes and aesthetic which is not exactly what we are going for."
"I'm sor—"
Chan clicks his tongue, preventing you from apologising. He pulls you towards him, a little bit closer than the two of you already were. Your partner glares at the man before huffing out loudly and saying, "You run a pretty tight community here, Rowoon, don't you think? Respect the rules or you're out." Rowoon stiffens upon hearing the words before Chan laughs, stretching his other arm out to pat his shoulder. "I'm kidding. Just kidding."
Jieun steps in right then to smoothen out the tension as she claps her hands together, laughing, "Aren't the two of you the cutest? Are you newly weds or?"
"Yes. I mean, it's been a year, but being married to her feels like falling in love all over again for every single day of my life." Chan locks his eyes with you and you gulp. The words hit deep, so deep that you know you shouldn't be fluttered, or flustered. This is Chan. He couldn't be serious.
"Ah, so cute," she squeals. Rowoon looks at his wife with a raised eyebrow before looking at the two of you again.
"Listen. I've to go check on the grill and grab something to eat. You should swing by later tonight and meet the rest of the members of the society. I'm sure they'll love you."
"Of course. We do want to finish a bit of the moving in and stuff today and maybe put up the Christmas decorations soon, but we'll be there. Guaranteed." Chan tugs at your hands to pull you back. You nodded and waved at Jieun.
"Bye!"
Chan quickly rushes you back into the house before finally letting out a huge sigh. He runs a hand through his hair before letting his back hit the door. You look at him and giggle lightly into your hand.
"Don't laugh," he glares. "I swear to God, if I have to spent more time talking to Rowoon—"
"You're doing so well, idiot," you laugh, throwing your head back. "We just need to dig in a little bit, talk a lot and confirm that these were accidents."
"Y/N, baby," You breathe slowly upon hearing the term. A sure endearment that Chan has always used but for to hear it roll out of his mouth in places this homely felt different, made you feel different. "If I have to spend more time with Rowoon, I will come up with another theory and it would probably be a suicidal one."
"Don't screw this up, yah!" You hit the back of his head. "The last thing I want is a suspension just because I was caught fucking you in the evidence room."
"Like you didn't enjoy it," Chan leans forward, nose brushing against yours almost. You can feel his breath fanning against your face and the temperature rising. Your hands are firm on his chest before you push him back, fanning yourself with your hand. You tie your hair up into a ponytail before pointing at the boxes by the side of the door.
"Get to work, husband. We don't have time to waste."
"The pepper next to the salt, Chan. Why would you put turmeric there?"
"You'd be one whiny arse motherfucker for a wife," he groans and angrily shuffles the bottles in their right order. "Why are we even arranging all this? Let's just wrap this up in like two days and go celebrate Christmas back at the station."
"I'm not going to take risks. It's Christmas. I celebrate every single Christmas," You mumble. "At least the bare minimum. And if this Christmas has me celebrating it with you, I will. I will give you the best Christmas ever."
"I don't celebrate Christmas, Y/N."
You place the cutlery in the shelves. You leave the kitchen after finishing every single arrangement of the same. Chan follows you into the main living room. You stop in your tracks when you hear Chan say the words and you turn, eyes shooting up.
"Why?"
"Mum left dad in winter. Didn't feel right to celebrate Christmas when she was at home. It's a bitter memory for her, you know?" You nod, eyes looking at him with understanding rather. He sits down, lifting his legs up and stretching it over the table. Your eyes widen and you narrow at his legs.
"Feet. Off. The. Table." You glare.
"Why?"
"Because it's disgusting." You groan. You sit down by his side once he puts his feet off the table, huffing at you. He turns to look at you and you respond finally.
"Do you, maybe, want to celebrate Christmas with me this year?"
Chan's a romanticist (though he wouldn't ever admit it). He believes in how destiny is meant to unite two people like one magnet for another, one jigsaw piece matching just another. He also believes that you are something special to him because his mind worries over you, his heart gravitates to you in a crowded room.
Felix told him that it's probably just sheer concern for his longest partner ever. That your heart tends to feel weird stuff for people that protect you, for people that take bullets for you.
But today, right now, when you tilt your head to the side, resting it on your arm as you wrinkle your eyes in mirth and ask him, his heart skips a beat. Maybe two. He is lost in his thoughts, emotions on an overload and he wonders if you would ever see him in a different light.
"Chan?"
He snaps out of it. He laughs, almost at himself, as he runs his hand through this hair. "Do I have an option? Han made sure our Christmas would be stuck here."
"I'm the best option you have, dude. That, or it was you and your can of beer and your football marathon."
"Maybe."
You still, your head lifting up to look at him. Chan looks at you like he has so much to say to you, so much stuff that conflicts within him but words he would never say out loud. You wish he could. Your head turns to the small Christmas tree inside the house — bare, empty and green. The one extra along with the big one outside every house in the UN Village.
"We could start by decorating that. Yeah."
You hop off the sofa and rush to take the decorative goods from the suitcase. All on command from Captain Han Jisung, courtesy of the very same man who bought so many of the decorations. Chan turns his body, arms folded on the head of the sofa as he watches you scramble in search of something.
You take the decorative items out from the suitcase, putting it by the side as you search for something. Chan walks towards you, squatting as he watches you look before he holds your wrist and halts your actions.
"What are you searching for? I could help you."
"It's this bluetooth speaker I thought I brought," you shake Chan's grip away before undoing the zip on the other side of the suitcase. "I really thought I brought it. Shit."
"Hey, hey," Chan sits on the floor as he watches you. "It's alright. You can put whatever you want to put on the speaker. It'll be loud enough for the two of us."
You turn to look at him, before falling back on your ass and sitting. You fold your arms around your knees close to your chest and you smile, "You don't mind me blasting Christmas Carols during tree decoration time, right?"
Chan laughs at your innocence. Something so soft, so pure about it, about how you loved Christmas so much. He wants to hold you close — oh so close — the need almost overcomes him but he holds back.
"I don't mind."
"Yay," you squeal, getting back on your feet and rushing to your phone on the table. "I have this collection of Christmas Carols that we primarily put every year–" Chan watches you scroll through your music library to find the collection and he knows you have when your whole face lights up like the goddamn star on this awfully green tree. "Tada, it starts with my favorite carol, Deck The Halls."
Chan's never understood the hype around carols but for you, he will try today. You increase the volume to the highest, and place the phone back on the table before rushing back to Chan and the suitcase. Your partner takes the fairy lights in his hand and lifting it up, he looks at you quizzically.
"How do you go about this?"
"There's no right or wrong way, Channie. Trust me. We are all swinging it and hoping that it turns out right," you reassure. You take the fairy lights from his hold and stand up. "I can show you what my family does." You walk to the tree, about a good amount of inches taller than you still.
The carol plays in the background like some beautiful serenade wrapping around the two of you. Chan stands a step behind you watching you carefully wrap the fairy lights right around the inside bark of the tree and plug it in to the extension box by the side. The white lights flickered bright and shine on your face that is close to the tree.
Chan stares. He can't pull away. You hold his breath, captivate his gaze and have him completely enthralled. Your eyes sparkle — hell, you sparkle more than those stupid fairy lights.
He is so charmed by you that he doesn't realise how you've been trying to catch his attention for a while.
"Chan?" And then you hit his arm, the whole police academy teaching style. "Focus, will you?"
"Fine," and he takes one of the christmas ornaments, hanging them up on one of the spikes. "Is this how it is?"
"You're doing so well, don't worry."
And with the carols in the background, the two of you slowly put the ornaments up, laughing occasionally at Chan wearing the ornaments by hanging them on his ears instead. Another set of fairy lights are draped perfectly over the tree. The stockings are hung by the side and everything is exactly as you remember Christmas decorations to be inside and you realise it's not much different from the Christmases you usually have.
The tree is there. The lights are there. The desserts will be coming. The memories are still made and your loved one is still here. Nothing is different.
"Help me hang the star up," you look at Chan. He tilts his head to the side and his eyes fix on the battery operated star in your hand.
"Did Jisung really give us all that?"
You nod, "Yeah. He told us to sell the story well. Apparently movies lie and that rich people are not all that dumb."
"You sure?" Chan sniggers. "That dude we met there seemed pretty dumb if he wouldn't even let you keep your bird feeder over some stupid aesthetics."
"Don't remind me," you groan. "Now, come here and hold me up." You stretch your arms slightly and Chan's trying his best not to giggle at how cute you looked in the minute.
His hand is warm against your sweater, heat seeping through as he lifts you up, grip strong on your waist. Your legs intuitively wrap around his torso to protect yourself and you stretch your arms out. You try placing the star above and Chan edges closer to the tree when he knows he's a bit far off. You finally place it successfully above and switch it on. It lights up pretty and your heart warms up at the joy of completing the tree decorations.
And then, Chan suddenly jolts you up in his hold. You fall forward, arms wrapping around his neck and face brough so close to his that you can see the sparkle underneath his eyes that glisten for you. You stiffen in his hold as he wraps his arms around you tighter and in the very next minute, Chan's lips have found yours.
It's soft and gentle as it moves against yours, taking your lower lip within seconds. In that kiss was the sweetness of passion and the reconfirmation of million memories spent together. It moves so gently against his plump ones that you know you're drowning in everything Bang Chan is and that it's creeping — he is creeping slowly into your veins and contaminating your being to a point where it would hurt to live without him.
Chan holds you tightly against him, holding your entire weight in his arms like you are his whole world. His hands squeeze your waist as if he is reminding himself that you are still here with him, sharing this holiday with him. And when Chan pulls back, you realise.
In his kiss, you are home.
"Why did you—" You barely manage to piece words together with the help of your clouded brain. "Uhm, why did you kiss me?"
Chan blushes. The apples of his cheeks heat up at the sudden question and it surprises him how he could still blush at you after all this while. He looks behind you, trying to stall away some time from answering until his eyes land on the creeping mistletoe with white buds around.
"Mistletoe!"
"What?"
"Behind you," Chan points, holding you up with one arm wrapped around your waist. "There!" You turn to look behind, one arm still around his neck while the other is by your side.
"Oh, it's a mistletoe." You blush and look down at how Chan holds you up. "You could put me down now, Chan."
"Oh yeah." And he slowly lowers you down onto the ground. His cheeks are still stained slightly before he rubs his fingers, fidgeting with it and finally exclaiming, "Ah look at the time. We've got to get ready for taht barbecue shit they are hosting." He turns you around and pushes you to the room the two of you are sharing. "Hurry!"
You laugh, head still dazed over the kiss. It goes back and repeats it over and over again till you feel the temperature in you shoot up and has you wanting emotionally so much more.
After all, this was the first time Chan has kissed you like that and it did not end with sex.
The smell hits your nose before anything else. The smell of fresh beef being roasted and the toxic smell of rich people partying. Although you cannot quite exactly explain how rich people smell if someone asked you. They just smell. . . rich.
Dammit. Now you'll associate this fine rich smell of first class beef with stupid rich people.
"At least it's good meat." You mumble.
"That's what she said," Chan laughs at his own joke. You open your mouth in disbelief, nudging him with your elbow. Across the lawn, by the pool side of Jieun's lawn, you see her and a couple of other ladies waving at you to come towards them.
"I'll have to go over there. Anyhow, get as much as information as you can, alright?" You turn to look at Chan before walking backwards. "I'll come over soon once it gets too nauseating for me, please."
"Sure," he waves at you and you turn around and walk as elegantly as possible to the posh ladies sitting there. Chan, on the other hand, decides to head to the group around Rowoon that almost look like a bunch of Mayor Arseholes to him.
You walk towards Jieun who is sitting a hot tub. The hot tub bubbles and you raise an eyebrow at the amount of wealth this family has amassed over the years. A table full of snacks rests under a nice canopy and a very intoxicated lady sways from the left to the right by the side of it.
"Sookyung-ah," Jieun waves at the inebriated female, "Meet the newest member of our little neighbourhood, Y/N."
Sookyung is loud. So loud that you wonder maybe Chan is right about rich people — that they drink, merry and party all day long. She waves her hands, eyes blinking a little too much as she welcomes you, "Nice to meet you! Have a drink!"
She shoves a big glass of brownish looking liquor that reeks of rum. You take a sip of it courteously. The liquid flows down your throat, the burning feeling distinct on your throat. Your eyes wrinkle in surprise, "That's strong, whoa."
"Of course, darling, it is," she smiles widely and it should have repulsed you. However, it is the only genuine smile you have found in this whole neighborhood so far. Sookyung continues, "How else are we supposed to get through the day?"
"Is this how it usually goes?" You laugh nervously. "Us girls sneak off to grab a drink while the boys beat the chests out at front?"
"Ooh," Sookyung gushes. "I think I'm going to like you a lot, darling."
Jieun takes a sip of her orange coloured cocktail as she circles her glass lightly, letting the liquid shake inside. You tilt your head backwards, staring up at the stars only to notice how it is a full moon tonight. A soft smile spreads across your lips as you think of the one person you associate with the moon; your partner.
Jieun leans forward after placing her drink back on the table. She nudges Sookyung and raises an eyebrow at you, "Sookyung-ah, did you see her husband?"
You blush at the term. This will take a while to get used to. "Was he the tall, broad shouldered guy in the suit?" She hums in approval and your eyebrows furrow downward in displeasure. "Talk about a prime cut of meat!"
"I know, right?" Jieun giggles. "I saw him and started to drool."
Your cheeks heat up ridiculously. You can feel your heart beating a lot quicker and it is a weird sense of pride that swells up within you over a man you can't even completely call yours now. You fidget with your fingers, black dress riding up your thigh as you shift in your seat nervously, "I guess Chan is a good looking man."
"Chan? Is that his name?" Sookyung laughs, "That's an understatement of the year. I would wish to strip him down, slather him up with butter and just eat him up." Your face couldn't help but morph into one of disgust at her words. At this point, you are borderline disturbed.
"That's, uhm, very vivid thoughts you have of my husband."
"Ah, dear," Sookyung leans forward and holds your hand, rubbing it in her grip. "We were joking. But you must tell us—"
Jieun breaks her and smiles so wide as she looks at Sookyung, grinning and then at you, "What is he like in the sheets?"
They laugh together and you look at the two of them. So this is what a rich bunch of ladies too. Gossip and talk unfiltered. You had only two options at this point, or maybe three — a) stay quiet and let them do the talking, b) tell them off for talking about Chan this inappropriately, c) talk with them and get more information under the guise of being one amongst them. You swear to the heavens that you would rather do option b, but for the sake of this crime, you decide to do what Captain Han Jisung would have told you to follow.
"He's a fucking tiger," and you laugh the fakest laugh you could ever pull out, albeit not because Chan wasn't good in between the sheets or anything (he was an almighty beast with his technique, yes) but because you never thought you'd live to see the day you'd use words like that, in any situation at all.
"Called it!"
"Tell us everything!"
You take a sip of your drink and cross your legs as you sit up straight, almost feigning arrogance, "I'm not one to kiss and tell but let's just say that Chan makes me very happy about," you grin and pause, trying to catch the ladies' attention on every single word of yours, "Twice a day or so."
"Twice a day?" Sookyung gasps.
"If he's just very much in the mood, I know I'm not going to walk for days together. Not that that is an issue. Chan is the sweetest and takes care of me," you flutter your eyelashes.
Jieun taps at her chest, huffing, "Be still my beating heart. Be still."
Sookyung sighs, stretching back on the reclining chair, "These days, Ilsung and I get it on like once a month or so and that's like for a minute. How disappointing."
"They are newly married, Sookyung," Jieun stilts her head in acknowledgement. "It's been a year of their marriage or so." She takes a bite of the cookie from the plate by the side and you smile as she looks at you.
"It seems like you're all pretty open in this neighborhood," you point out and twirl a strand of your hair that lets loose before your eyes.
"Oh we share everything," Jieun says and Sookyung scoffs, before picking up a cookie and her strong drink.
"Some more than others." She scowls so visibly that Jieun has to furrow her eyebrows at her and signal something with her gaze before Sookyung looks away to the right.
The backdoor of the house behind opens and you turn to look at a lanky woman walking in with a tray of cookies. It is the same one that you have on the table already and you look at her. The glow on her face is long gone, her eyes losing the sparkle and you wonder if she is going through something.
Sookyung frowns and mumbles under her breath, albeit a bit too loudly, "Great. This party suddenly took a sip into Depressionville now."
You lean back into Jieun and mumble, "Who's that?"
Jieun leans into you and is about to whisper when Sookyung runs her mouth free, "That's Somin. An absolute downer."
You bite your lip out of anxiety, surprised by how Sookyung really does run her mouth a bit too much — a lot enough to cancel her off your list of suspects almost. Jieun hisses at the other woman before telling you, "Her husband was Kim Jihoon and he died yesterday so," she clears her throat, "She's quite rattled, to say the least."
"Then shouldn't she be mourning at her husband's house or funeral home for a few days? The fact that she's already here seems so crass." Sookyung shakes her head, disappointed. You gulp and watch the woman, Somin, come closer and Sookyung, folding her arms tighter.
The minute Somin is in your periphery though, both Jieun and Sookyung smile so brightly and that's when you realise that nothing you see and nothing you hear could be trusted here. It's the world of the rich and everyone wants to come out on top.
"It was so nice of you to come out," Sookyung waves and calls her closer. Jieun nods and you see how she walks slowly towards them, a sad smile on her face and her tray held strongly.
Somin speaks softly, almost as if she should not, "I probably should have stayed inside." She holds out her tray as she stretches her arms outwards. On the tray are many round cookies with cracked lines on their surfaces, a bit too deep than normal. They look sad. Just as their maker does.
You wait for the other two women to do something and when they take a piece of cookie, you follow suit and take one. The distinct taste of cinnamon fills your mouth and you hum in approval even if the cookie wasn't the best out there, "Ah, these snickerdoodles taste good!"
"Thanks, but you don't have to flatter me," she looks at you with a face close to no expressions whatsoever, "Whoever you are."
"Somin, this is Y/N. She's new to our neighborhood," Jieun says and Sookyung adds, "And she clearly knows her cookies."
"Thanks," you hesitate. "I do bake from time to time." And taking another piece of the cookie, you tell them excitedly, "Did you know that Snickerdoodle is derived from the term Schneckennudein, which literally means snail noodle?"
The three other ladies stare at you, blinking at what you just said in utter disarray and you sigh.
"I meant," You take a bite of the cookie, "Great cookie!"
"Yeah, great cookies, but," Jieun starts and Somin looks at her, pressing her lips together.
"But?"
"I said that I would be the one to make the snickerdoodles, but it's alright. We can have twice as many and can give some to our husbands partying over there. No worries."
"Oh, okay, I'll have to go," and she scurries away quickly. She barely shuts the door as she rushes out of the place almost immediately, her hair flailing behind her. You watch the woman, analysing how no one in the party seemed bothered by it.
Jieun sighs, "She looks bad, doesn't she?"
"If you ask me," Sookyung speaks loudly once again and you already know she's going to run her mouth, "She's better off with Jihoon dead. You should have heard the way the two of them used to fight."
"Were Somin and Jihoon having marital troubles?" You ask.
"Definitely," Sookyung leans forward, "If by marital trouble you mean continuous screaming matches blasting across the entire neighbourhood, why then yes!"
"You're such a gossip, Soo! It was not that bad."
"Says you!" She stands up and walks towards the bar counter, smiling and turning back to look at both you and Jieun. "More rum?"
"Yes, please!"
"Hey—"
It's the greetings and then a hand that trails far too low on your back. It grazes the curve of your ass and you quickly jolt forward turning only to find a man in his mid thirties in a suit, standing eerily close to you.
You narrow at him before asking, "I was searching for my husband. Pretty tall, broad shouldered, dark brown hair, slightly curly. Have you seen him?"
"You're Chan's wife? Didn't know he had such a beautiful woman for a wife," the man edges forward and you take a step back, eyebrows furrowed at him and your hand trailing down to keep you ready to grip your gun. Until you remember that you're undercover and hitting this man with a gun would seem suspicious. Your best option was to deck him. The man takes another step forward and you take one backwards till your back hits the buffet table, "I'm Ilsung. Do you maybe want to go somewhere..."
"You have a wife and I have a husband," you spit out. You are mortified. So this is what Sookyung mentioned and the fact her very own husband is involved in illicit affairs — does everyone here have a mistress or is involved in adultery? Is that the rich people norm?
"So? Everyone here has an affair with someone's wife. Do you want to be mine? I can take care of you."
"I can very well take care of my wife, Ilsung. I don't think I'll need your help."
You hear the one voice you needed to hear in this very moment. You look over the older man's shoulder to find Chan, his hands shoved into the pockets of his formal pants. His top buttons are undone and the vest and suit fits him so well that you are glad you picked this one out for him. You shove the man away and walk to Chan, heels digging into the lawn as you strut confidently.
"I need the madam to say that," Illsung shoots and Chan's at his patience's end. He makes fists of his hands on either side of his and you hold onto his arms to calm him down only to look at the other man and narrowing your eyes, you scoff.
"I don't think I need to go have sex with someone like you when I get it well from him. That, and I guess, him being my husband should take more priority but not in this neighborhood where everyone breathes and lives on sex. So, no, thank you. I feel sad for Sookyung. She deserves someone better than a trash for a husband."
"Why, you bitch!" And he rushes forward with a clenched fist to hit you. Chan stops his blow, however, chuckling to himself.
"That's weak. Now, why don't you go take care of your wife while I treat mine like a princess? Yeah?"
And Chan walks away with his arms tight on your waist as he holds you close. Ilsung yells behind the two of you, his wife yelling at him to keep quiet. Chan, on the other hand, doesn't speak a word further, just walking you all the way to the house the two of you share, keeping you so close to him and glaring at the others to keep them away.
There are sighs and grunts, furrowed eyebrows and clenched fists as Chan argues with himself in his head all the way to the room the two of you share. He stands by the table, still lost in his thoughts and you almost pick up the book you're reading — one by Natsume Suseki — only to deck him with it, although you decide not to because he already seems ready to snap his control.
"Chan—"
Maybe your voice was the only trigger he needed to snap, to break away from his thoughts and to give them words out loud.
"You just stood there? Like some dumb doll when he touched you?" Chan glares at you and you frown, folding your arms over your chest and yelling back, "Excuse me, but I'm undercover as some doting wife to some stupid man."
"Did that matter then? Oh my god," he groans, throwing his head back. "I'm so mad and I know you're right. You are right but how dare he touch my wife when I was around. The fucking audacity—"
You hold the edges of the table with the base of your palm, pressing against it as you jump up and sit up on it to face him properly. You cup his face and making sure his eyes are fixed on yours, you smile softly.
"Don't smile right when I'm shit mad at everything, Y/N."
"Should I frown then?" You laugh out and push yourself back slightly to allow Chan to come closer and stand in between your thighs. "Let's think of this as some, uhm," you ponder, still holding Chan's face close to you, "Yes! Let's think of this as an occupational hazard."
"Occupational hazard," he scoffs. "Bullshit. He did that because he thinks women are weak. He's one of those arrogant pompous rich men that think that he can have his way with some good sacks of cash and power and that all women are weak and with that power comes his ability to subjugate them all to the age old tradition of treating them as sex dolls, an object for pleasure."
Chan's red and out of breath when he finally rants it all out and you bite your lower lip from laughing, dropping your hands from his face. Chan's cute. Oh god, he's so fucking cute and you know you shouldn't overstep boundaries but dear lord, if Bang Christopher Chan keeps this up, you will actually get down on your one knee, pop the ring and propose to him.
"Are you done?"
"No," he glares at you and leans forward, "Going to get back to work after this case and find some hell of a corruption case on him to put him behind the bars."
Your eyes wrinkle into thin crescents as you smile wide. You raise your eyebrows and suggest, "I've a better idea. Why don't you rather fuck me with all hat pent up frustration? It's a win win deal, if you think about it hard enough."
Chan leans forward, lips curving up into a confident grin, "Oh, I will. I intend to do both. Fuck this anger out on you and put him behind bars."
Chan's hands are big in comparison to your face. He cups your face, angles it and kisses you. His lips fit right into yours almost as if they were meant to be there for a lifetime to come. He kisses you and it's just as magical as always, laced with a touch of ardent need and passion. You needed him, you needed his warmth, his protection and everything he has to offer. His arms snake around your neck to grasp it and pull you in, deeper into him as he moves his lips against yours, softly at first till it turns into something so passionate that it would have your knees buckle, had you been standing. Chan is pressed against you, his white shirt, a size small as he likes it, clinging onto his body tightly (rid of the vest and suit in a moment of anger as soon as he walks into the house you share) and perfectly enough for you to hold his muscles.
You promised to yourself that you wouldn't fall in love, not after the shitshow of a marriage you saw in your parents. You promised that you'd keep your heart to self, that every individual in this world was brought forth as a single entity, so why in heavens did we go searching for others?
Chan makes you understand.
You understand now that promises are meant to be broken and as you gaze at Chan under his dim lights, his face so temptingly close to you, you are more than ready to break the promise you've made with yourself.
It has been written in the gazes already and as you lean forward, your fingertips tracing his jawline, Chan knows it because he meets you halfway, his hands creeping behind your back by your waist and tugging you closer, your bodies touching and your lips on his, soft and testing waters initially. He pulls you closer, his lips moving against yours, angling your face to delve deeper into you.
He has his lips against yours, nearly knocking you off all the wind in your lungs. You sigh into the kiss, find your hands in his hair, tugging at the roots and moving against his body, your legs stretching by either side of his body. His hand sprawls over your neck, his thumb caressing against your jugular before pressing into the neck, rubbing slow circles. He kisses the top of your lips, your hands tugging at his shirt.
In a swift motion, positions have changed and you're sitting on him whilst he props himself up on the table. He lifts you up slightly, pulling back and places you on top of his lap. Your rear falling into the depression between his thighs, rubbing against his groin slowly. He looks at you through hooded eyes, pushing your hair past and opens his mouth to speak before you voice out first.
He looks at you from below, your hair falling on his shoulder as you look at him, his head thrown behind as it rests on the sofa's ridge. And your lips find his again, tugging at his soft lip to let you through, to open up to you completely.
You moan into the kiss, your back arches and Chan's hand is still firm on it. He kisses your lower lip and your tongue brushes his lips in the impact, groaning at how he won't let you through a second ago and then, he lets you in. It's intimacy on a level you were slowly being prepared for. It's everything you remind yourself that you wouldn't break down into. Chan makes you feel special, with every praise, with every word he swears out to protect you. Chan reminds you of a feeling you had long forgotten.
Chan's lips move from your swollen lips to the curve of your jaw, down to the curved edges of your neck, sucking and kissing every exposed skin. Your head is thrown back at the sensation, your hips gyrating over his growing length.
His hand moves from your shoulders to your arse to your back after he seeks your permission as he pulls you closer and forwards, until your chests are pressed against one another. His mouth is everywhere and good lord, you feel infinite and powerful.
His lips hover on yours. He smirks, the curve of his lips tugging upwards slightly and you think it's cute. You think Chan also makes you feel divine as he whispers into your skin like personalized love notes or small token of appreciation, "Fuck, you're hot. The most beautiful being I've ever seen," and that is all that is needed as you gyrate over your hips a little quicker. He inches his chin forward, flicking your nose a little with his own, a shy smile on his lips as he silently asks the permission to claim your lips anew; all over again.
And you let him, just like you've already given him permission in your head to ravish you tonight, to take you to hell and back.
Chan cups your face with both his hand, holding you and watching your face shine in the dim gold setting of his room. Your cheeks glistened and your eyes sparkled but his eyes could not stray away from your lips — coral, swollen and so demanding. He pulls your face down, kissing your nose tip and then your philtrum before pressing his lips flat against yours.
His kiss is drawn out in a way that makes you want more, like a divine aphrodisiac. It makes you want to pull him in and suck the living hell out of him and yet it's lovely. It's precious and laid out well planned. His tongue licking your lower lips before entwining with your tongue as he pulls you closer into him, your hips lowering deeper into his covered length, panties sticking to the core from the sensations your body is responding to.
His fingers trail up your black dress, thumb grazing the skin slowly, bringing about goosebumps to the surface before they slowly move enough to rip your dress apart and expose you to him, in all semi-nude. You moan, before kissing him as you hold onto Chan tightly.
He makes your insides twitch and your heart lunge and it fogs up all of your thoughts to the point you feel yourself drowning in the sensation of his lips, pressed tightly on your own. Your fingers get lost in his thick locks as you tug on them, forcing him to pull you down a lot forward and gladly welcome the movement of your tongue.
His lips are as soft as feathers and they feel like what you think heaven feels like. The warmth you experience is so much more than the tingle of first kisses, those innocent butterflies have nothing on the wanting void of a pit in your nether regions and the slick in between your thighs.
His hands slide down from your hips to reach behind your back and pull you upwards, only to tightly clasp around the curve of your bare bottom cheeks, caressing it over. You sigh contently. His hand trails upwards, touching, feeling you all over and you pull back, breathing rapidly as you look at Chan. The next second you are unbuttoning his first two buttons and prompting him to remove his shirt too. Your legs slide slightly dangling off his sofa before he pulls you towards him, his naked chest warm enough against yours as he pulls you back in to devour you.
"God, you're heavenly," Kiss. "So fucking heavenly." Kiss. "You're a fucking good girl." Kiss. "So good for me." Chan sucks a huge hickey into your neck — bright, dark and purple but it's how he worships and praises you that makes you want him more, your clothed core grinding on his enlarged bulge that is covered. The friction from the cotton of your panties and the cotton of his jeans slowly stimulates your core and you can't help yourself when your body is moving on its own accord on top of Chan, your hand moving your from falling back.
“Chan,” you groan against his lips after he pulls away from you for a minute. His lips are red and swollen, slick and shining with your saliva and so incredibly inviting you all over again and you fear that you may never want to stop kissing him for as long as you are breathing.
"Chan!"
His fingers move downward, grazing your skin by your stomach slowly, his eyes trained on yours as he watches you slowly break down. His fingers tease over your clothed mound. You bite your lip from groaning too loud but Chan's sudden tapping at your covered clit makes you yelp.
"Good girl. That's right. I want to hear your pretty moans," he kisses down on your neck, trailing and plastering wet kisses down your clavicle before sucking at the exposed skin of your breasts. "Moan loud for me, baby." He sucks at the skin by the crook of your neck, under your clavicles, above your breast and at the curves, leaving purple marks almost instantly thanks to your sensitive skin.
You can hear your heart beat quicker, racing against your chest and your thoughts drive you desperate. Pulling his face from your breasts, you kiss him, making the kiss deeper, licking his lip and grazing it with your teeth. You grind down on him trying to edge yourself desperately. You move forward to own every gulp and moan he releases and squirms in pleasure.
"I want you so much," you choke out. Chan's hand lets loose from your throat slightly and he looks at you with admiration, before gripping at the jugular, and caressing it lovingly, pressing wet kisses against it. You sound desperate, almost like you would lose your sanity if Chan doesn't make you his, this minute. "Please. Chan, please."
His hands trail downwards, thumb rubbing the skin on its way before he slips them under your panties, swiping his finger across your slit, feeling how wet you are. He groans out loud, mumbling, "What a doll. All wet and ready for me to devour. You'd like that, wouldn't you? Baby, wouldn't you?" He presses against your jugular with his other hand, tilting your head and gently choking you. Your eyes rim with tears in joy and you nod, "Yes, please."
His mouth moves over the skin at your breast, kissing it furiously. His tongue lapping at your nipple over your bra, slowly circling over the clothed material as he rubs his finger up and down your slit, occasionally rubbing against your clitoris. You press down and grind on him further, begging for more. Chan removes his hand from your neck and moves it up from your waist to your back and it lingers around the hook of your bra before snapping it open with a flick of his fingers. The bra slides off your shoulder and you throw it away, unbothered by where it lands.
Chan's mouth falls on your breasts, circling big with his tongue before slowly decreasing the radius of his turns and narrowing down on your nipples, sucking at them alternatively. You are moaning, holding at his shoulder and dragging your hips over his bulge in a slow, excruciating pace he has set with the drag of his fingers.
Your throat is dry from all this excessive want and you wet your lips, breathing coming out in hot puffs of air, rapid and shallow. The passion and want blinds you and Chan taps on your clitoris constantly with his thumb, using the other fingers to slowly tease your entrance over the panties but going back to sliding down your opening. You groan frustrated and grind down on his bulge trying to chase the feeling that is growing within you.
Chan's lips are all over you as you bite into his shoulder occasionally. It hovers over your neck and then your breasts, giving it all the attention as he plays with your nipples as he rubs you at a pace that quickens slowly. Your mind is boggled and you can't get your thoughts clearly.
"Such pretty breasts," he groans into it, his tongue flicking at it from your underside. "Such perky breasts. So beautiful and all mine."
Soon enough with his praises and the way he worships your being, the promise of an orgasm begins to manifest and build within you as a strong tightness within your lower regions, creeping into your abdomen, ever growing with every passing second. Chan's steady rhythm is strong enough to carry it over the edge with the friction you get from all the material and his bulge and as your climax looms closely, your hips rock and gyrate slightly against him. He pinches and flicks your nipples as he helps you ride out the orgasm, your eyes tired and hooded. You kiss him softly on his lips.
"Will you remove your lingerie for me, pretty girl?"
The order shouldn't have turned you on this much but it does as you hop off his lap, your feet unsteady on the ground as you balance yourself after your first orgasm. Your fingers are on the edge of your panties and you're pulling it down completely in the next second. Chan watches you steadily, his eyes trailing on your figure and you feel attended to.
"Jesus Christ," he stands up, the bulge moving slightly and your mouth dries up as it opens, wanting so much more. He holds you by your waist, petting your hair, mumbling, "I love when you put your hair down. You look like a goddess. A goddess ready to let go of your divinity all for me."
He unbuckles his belt as you slowly touch yourself, your hand moving down your body. He watches you, your thumb and forefinger playing with your nipples, tugging and pinching them till they harden under your grip. He removes his formal pants and his boxers, pulling it down and away at your request. Chan's length and girth has your eyes widening, as always, your tongue licking over your lips and you gape.
It's painfully hard and the tip is red, leaking with precum down his cock. Chan holds you by your waist and lifts you up, your knees wrapping around him and your soaked core on top of his hardened girth, occasionally dragging past it. He kisses your breasts, licking over the nipple and the underside of the breast, grazing his teeth over it as he walks you to what you had thought would be the bed. However, he stops midway, looking at you for a second before your back hits the cold walls of the room in this house as he holds you securely. You see the bed by the side and you smile. You drop your legs and stand on your toes as you kiss him, your tongue running over his buccal cavity.
Chan's hand trails down, circling by your waist before his palm hovers over your mound. His thumb brushes past your clit teasingly and your hand wraps around his neck, kissing him and biting at his lower lip till you feel the metallic copper taste of blood filling your senses.
You moan as he drags a finger up and down your slit, playfully teasing you fold. He rubs circles into your folds, slowly dragging them out into waves and your hand flies upwards and forward to hold on to him for a grip.
"Chan," you rasp out, and he hums, removing your hand so that he can kneel down, kissing your thigh and biting it slightly as his thumb rubs against your clit and the other swipe against the folds. Your hands grip on his roots, tugging at it mercilessly.
"Baby, do something," you cry. "Please, I need you." Your other hand tugs at his hair, trying to bring him closer in a desperate manner. "I'll be a good girl. Please, do something."
"Should I?" he teases, rubbing small circles around your clit in an excruciatingly slow manner and you think — know — that Chan is going to drive you to insanity and how he'd pull one off his book and blame it on his instincts.
"Please, please, please—"
The intrusion is sudden and you are overwhelmed. You gasp, the air raspy against your throat before falling. Your hand pulls at his hair harshly as he sucks on your clitoris, his breathing fanning over you. Your fingers drag down and dig into his skin, unbothered by the possibility of cutting through it.
He presses his thumb on your clit after removing his mouth, tapping it slowly, simultaneously and you think you're going delusional. "Chan, oh my fucking heavens."
He kisses your mound repeatedly, telling you, "Look at this sex. Wet and dripping. I'll give you what you want, baby. I'll give you what you want for being a good girl for me."
Chan adds another two fingers instantly and you feel overwhelmingly full, crying out at being widened so pleasurably. The walls stretching out and you catch him mumbling, "So fucking tight and all for me. Look at this brat being a good girl for me."
He curls them up into you and your back arches slightly at the tingles. You feel Chan slipping his fingers easily into you and the slick of your arousal dripping down your thighs, making a mess. He rubs your walls, his attention also on your enlarged button and your hips gyrate with him, thrusting and chasing after his fingers desperately. He finds your spot easily after being this around and pushes at it constantly. Your head hits against the wall hard and he looks upwards at you for a split second, worried, only resuming after you give him a signal that you are alright.
You feel the euphoric rush coming, creeping through from within and trying to embrace you as a whole and when it's very close to burst, Chan pulls his fingers away, licking them clean with a knowing smirk plastered on his face, for a second before thrusting them back in.
Chan pumps his fingers in and out of you as his thumb rubs furious circles into your clit. He bites at your thigh, kissing them soon after, leaving traces of bruises near to your vulva. Hot, purple and sticky. He sucks on the skin deliriously, licking the skin to soften before grazing his teeth to oversensitize you. You feel the build up and you squirm against Chan, your eyes watering.
"Chan, baby," it's a sob that leaves you. "Please." You were so devastatingly close after your last orgasm, the balls of heels leaving the surface as you try to pull back but Chan pulls you down as he sucks on your clitoris and pumps his fingers in you in a ridiculously breaking pace and when you are so close to breaking apart, Chan drags his fingers away, licking and sucking at them as you look down at him.
"What the fuck?" You swear, frustrated, tears spilling from your eyes.
"Good girls don't swear."
"I'll blow you off well," you try striking a deal with him. He looks up at you amused, strands of hair sticking to your face from the sweat and he still thinks you're the most beautiful woman he has laid his eyes. "I'll give you one hell of a blowjob. Just please." Your voice breaks as you look at Chan, who looks so delectable at the minute with your juices staining the side of his mouth and his lips shining in the light. "You won't regret—"
His mouth is back on your core and you groan, "Ungh!" He mumbles, his warm breath tingling your core as he speaks against it, "Good girls don't strike a deal either, darling."
"But your good girl does," you tease and Chan's mouth is back on your sex, licking and teasing it. He grabs you by the calves, his blunt nails digging into the vast skin.
Without another word, Chan dives right into it, tongue darting out to lick a long, thick stripe from your center to your clit, causing you to shiver. Your left hand finds its way back to his hair after grabbing at his shoulder intermittently. Chan simpers to himself, overwhelmed by how well your body reacts to him and just him, your legs shivering and buckling, about to fall if it weren't for Chan's hands holding you up and pressing you against the wall.
You feel the thickness of his tongue lapping up your seeping wetness, which in turn causes a rush of arousal to leak and drip down your ass. "You're making a mess, baby," he chuckles, the laughter hitting your clit and sending a shiver down your spine. Your fingers instinctively tighten around his hair and you pull him closer to your cunt, his nose nuzzling against your mound. He groans, hands gripping your thighs tightly, locking your legs in place.
Burying himself further, his tongue dips deep inside you, nose nuzzling and rubbing against your clit with every thrust. His eyes are piercing and fixated on the rise and fall of your chest as he looks up at you once in a while, seeing you tug at your lips, eyes closed and hand roaming around for support. He loves seeing you fucked out for him.
"Argh, it's fucking divine," Chan mumbles against your slit and the vibrations have your core clutching onto nothing. "This good cunt all wet and slickened for me, ready for me." You mewl, unable to stop yourself from wriggling within his hold, the grip on his hair tightening.
Your walls grasps around his tongue, pulling him further into you as he laps up every single drop of your arousal, passionate as if it were an aphrodisiac. One of his hands travels upwards to latch itself on your breast, rubbing the underside of your breast, fondling and gripping it hard.
“Chan,” you moaned softly, your voice trembling over the sensations that ride into you, toes curling. He responds to your calling, withdrawing from you slowly, by planting soft and gentle kisses to your inner thighs.
"You're doing great, love."
He sucks on your clit furiously and that was everything for you. You feel the same high building up at a pace quicker than you thought was possible. You feel it tightening, your core clutching onto his muscular organ as it tries indulging itself deeper, chasing after something it craves. His nose rubs against your neglected clit. He licks a stripe against it before sucking at it, teeth grazing at it sending tingle down your spine that has you hitting the bumpers with the heel of your feet. You are already sensitive from the last orgasm and all the teasing you had and with all this vigor and undivided attention Chan gives you, you feel it coming as he treats you like you're his only girl.
Your back arches more steeply, your mound hitting him in its influence, head hitting the wall lightly this time and your moans are louder, raspier and quicker. You are screaming out Chan's name as you see the stars under your eyelids.
He still licks slow stripes, taking in and devouring the rush of juice that squirts out of you. He lets you ride out the high and he lets you leave him breathless as his grip on your thighs do not ease away. Chan does not stop, even when you're a quaking, quivering mess, tears spilling from the corner of your eyes and it's almost bordering overstimulation. You can't think and you can't form proper sentences. He leaves you gasping for air, with something stuck in your throat preventing the passage of air and it's difficult to breathe in this rush and he makes it harder.
He looks at you teasingly and he lifts his hand as you bend forward to his kneeling self. He clutches on your neck, his fingers pressing against the side softly as he continues licking up your orgasm and blocking your air passage. You feel the stimulation rushing and concentrating and it's all too much for you. Tears stain your face and you're crying, "It's too much, Chan. Too much."
And he stops as soon as you say that. He presses soft kisses against your clitoris and he holds your hips tightly as he stands up. You've lost any energy in your legs you have and if it weren't for Chan, you'd crash.
He holds you by the hips and carries you, dropping you gently against the bed, your hair spreading and you kiss his shoulder. He caresses your face and tells you — it's a whisper almost — "I think I want to get to know you more. I think I—"
You bring his face lower to kiss him, preventing any other word to spill from his mouth that your head tells you to cancel. You are not sure yet. You hold his face down, devouring him as a whole, feeling his length slide your core draggingly and you groan into him.
You don't shy away from prying your hand down, teasing his cock as you rub your hand over the enlarged shaft slowly, teasing his enlarged red head, rubbing your arousal and the afters of your orgasm all over him, slowly stimulating him as you drag your hand down his length and back up again, letting go of his shaft only to cup his balls, trailing your fingertips around it. You let go and look at Chan.
"Lay back, please," you request and he pecks your nose as he pouts at you. God, he really really wants to call you his. Forever.
Chan lies back on the bed, his head resting between his pillows and yet he pulls his body up, supporting his weight on his arm. You sit up, crawling over to straddle his lap, nervousness setting into your stomach. You gulp and swallow the saliva as you look at Chan, whose gaze gives you comfort and confidence. The muscles in your arm stiffens as you grip his shoulder for stability and Chan's hand falls on your hips naturally, helping you steady yourself.
Your hands rest on his chest, firm and broad and you gaze at Chan's cock for a while, it twitching with every unadulterated thought of his as he watches you on top of him, bare, exposed and unrestrained all for him. Your mouth is parched and your tongue pokes out through the seams of your lips, running across the expanse of your lower lip and wetting it.
"Fuck," he swears as his eyes move with your tongue, his chest rising and falling under your hold.
You reach forward to take him in your hand — the tip of his head looks so inviting that you couldn't stop yourself. Chan's hands roam up your arms, his thumb caressing the underside of your breasts before they play with them, his thumb and forefinger rubbing your nipple, watching it turn solid in his hold. He grips at your breast, fondling it and massaging it, stimulating you and bringing about a rush of confidence in you.
“You’re fucking large, fuck, fuck,” You yelp, eyes wide and mouth salivating at the heaviness in your grasp. You widen your mouth, stretching your facial muscles and Chan laughs.
When you look at him, his dark eyes are speared to your movements, teeth gritted. At this moment, with you hovering over him, he can't seem to contain how excited he is, his length twitching in your hold. You begin moving your hands up and down his length at the same slow pace he had put through.
You lean forward, Chan's grip on your breasts tightening as he squeezes it. Your whines turn to louder moans of ecstasy. His one hand grabs your hair back, pulling it into a makeshift ponytail until he drops it and touches your face, "Ah, so beautiful. You're so perfect."
Chan watches you and is all too eager, his hand on your face trailing down to your shoulder, gripping on it as he continues caressing one of your breasts. The flat of your wet tongue sticks out to lick around the rim of his hot head. He fights back a groan, choking and sputtering, grip on your shoulder tightening as his blunt nails dig into your skin. You stretch your mouth as wide as you can, hollowing it, which leads profanities spilling from his pretty mouth, even though it's a discomfort to your movement as you engulf the whole of his head with your tongue. He mumbles something incoherent under his breath and you sigh at the thought your mouth wrapped around his pretty cock.
Chan inhales a sharp breath, swearing and uttering, "Your pretty mouth could take me so well, baby. So good." You wrap your lips around the velvet tip, beginning a slow suction. Your tongue licks around the base, pulling up a fat stripe over the throbbing, prominent vein.
“Fuck, fuck,” Chan mumbles, shifting on the sheets, his hand gripping on one of the pillows. “Open wider, please, baby. You're doing so good. You're taking me so well."
You do as he has asked of you. Your jaw is already sore and the joints ache from the girth of his head alone. He pushes his hips off the bed in the slightest without your awareness; his hand trailing back to your hair and the other still on your breast making you feel good. His grip on your hair is strong as he thrusts more of himself into your mouth, your lips wet around his length.
You try your best for it to be pleasurable for him as your fingers tighten around his length before you start to twist your wrists — with a click of your gliding joint — and continue sucking. Chan is careful to be gentle with you, very tenderly urging his cock to fill more of your mouth. It shocks you when you feel the blunt of his head hit the cap of your airway, eliciting a gag.
Chan's eyes widens, the reaction from you exciting him as you feel him twitching in your mouth. He gasps, breath uneasy as his hand leaves your hair and trails behind towards your arse that sticks out as you try deepthroating Chan. He rubs your slit slowly and the unexpected contact pushes you forward, taking in Chan a lot more than you had planned, leaving him groaning into your shoulder.
He pulls out barely before he’s pushing back in, teeth gritted and eyes focused on making you feel calm too. Chan moves back and watches you taking him so well and he knows it's a sight to behold — your pretty lips wrapping around his length, taking him so well as if your mouth was made for him, crafted to perfection. His fingers rub small circles into your vulva, tapping against the clit accidentally once or twice.
Another gag rumbles out of you as you fight the reflex. The vibrations against his member is felt and he grips on your arse, pulling you into him, your nose rubbing against his pubis. Your finger trails the underside of his shaft before rolling his balls between your fingers. His hips stutter in shallow thrusts into your mouth and you feel the sting of tears threatening to blur your vision as you oppose your gag reflex, taking him as deep as you can.
The sounds of your gagging bounces off the walls of his bedroom, followed by the deep moans and sighs spilling through Chan's lips as he fucks your mouth. Each thrust of his hips causes the head of his cock to push past your airway, your throat constricting and eliciting a groan from him. He also diverts your attention to rubbing you, now and again slapping your cheeks, eliciting moans from you against his girth.
You release your hold around his length, fingers thickly coated in your own saliva as you dig into the flesh of his thighs. Your mouth is stretched as wide as you can physically make it and tears roll down your cheek continuously, while you willingly take him completely in your mouth. You look up through the flutters of your eyelashes, enthralled to see the Adam’s apple in Chan's throat bob up and down while his head is thrown back in pleasure.
Chan pulls your head back; his cock comes out from your mouth with a light pop followed by you gasping for air. Your eyes droop, your cheeks hollow and your jaws ache but everything counts to how hot you felt, to how hot the tension between you still is. His hand trails back to your hair, gripping on it and jerking your hair back so you’re forced to look at him.
"This is a fucking sight to behold. Look at you, darling," he groans.
Chan's thumb grazes your skin and he latches his lips onto yours in a sloppy, messy and wet manner and nothing else seems to matter other than your need for each other. You lean forward, tugging at his pinna as you bite down on it lightly, before mumbling, "I'm on top today."
Chan doesn't care because all he can focus on is how you said today, like this isn't just a one time thing. He gazes at you with such affection that has your heart racing telling you to let go of that stupid cages you keep around your concepts.
As your folds, dripping down with thick, sticky arousal coating Chan's cock with that and your saliva, brush the tip of his hardened cock, you feel a shudder run down your spine. You instinctively allow yourself to lower further, taking the rest of him in you swiftly with the help of your arousal. Sinking down around his dick and feeling him fully wrapped around your clutching walls has you throwing your head back, squeezing your eyes at how his length stretches you out, your walls wrapping around him tightly. He holds your waist, helping you down on his length.
You rock your hips into him, already finding yourself tightening and clenching around his thick cock. He fills you up so nicely, stuffing you perfectly full and you salivate, licking your lips. Your lips parts and you find your hips moving on their own accord. Chan's right hand rises upwards, massaging your breast, flicking your nipple and sending a rush down your spine, arching your back. His cock hits you at an angle and a soft moan leaves your lips.
Chan takes your hips in his hands, taking control of your movements to raise you up, leaving you empty and whining. You clench around nothing but air and your own walls, desperate to sink back down. “Chan,” you whine, your lower lip puckers forwards and Chan lifts himself up to kiss you.
As his hand grip around your hips to get a better hold, he slams you back down on his cock, hard, causing you to scream. “Fuck, Chan, oh my god, ah!”
He continuously guides you in a rhythmic movement, throwing his head back into his pillows and groaning. The sheen of sweat glistening on his chest catches your eye as he pants. The way his eyes clenched shut and his mouth hangs open with pleasure only makes you move faster around his cock, gyrating around it and tightening your walls. The sight before you makes you want to see him fucked out further. You want him to crumble under you because of you, leave him trembling under your hold.
He groans, "Your cunt is so pretty. Look at it, baby. Look." He gapes down and you gasp, moaning quicker.
You ride him, bouncing on his dick and clenching when you feel yourself reaching your climax for the third time that night, all because of this man. Chan's finger moves down and slips between your sweat soaked bodies to rub your clit, pushing you even further over the edge.
“Are you going to come, baby?” He asks, breathlessly, his voice airy and light, almost floating away. He pulls his head forward to kiss your collarbones, sucking harsh bruises against your skin, continuing further down the existing purple bruises.
“Y-Yes, please, please,” you sigh, lacing your fingers through his hair and tugging on the dark strands. “Mhm, fuck, please, please, you feel so good, Chan.” You lean forward and the motion causes him to whine. You quickly catch it as your lips fall on his. His lips enclose yours, tugging and pulling at it and he kisses you slowly and passionately as you move on his cock, lazily.
Words, unfiltered and raw, spill out from your mouth after your lips leave his as you feel the high that is creeping up slowly within you. “Chan, fuck. Oh fuck. I'm going to come soon. Oh my god." Your voice reaches a pitch higher.
“Then, come.”
Chan moans against your neck as he feels you, his finger rubbing your clit, “Baby, come all over my cock. You deserve that for being the good girl you are.”
Chan's other hand that is not occupied leaves your hip and moves upwards to find its place on your neck. His fingers gently wrap themselves around your neck and that makes you wetter than you already are. He presses his fingers against your neck with pressure and you choke, gasping for air. Your mouth opens wide and your tongue falls out slightly resting on your lower lip. Your eyes roll back and your walls clench around Chan's cock tightly, your hip gyrating around it for all the friction.
Your fucked out expression as you choke for air makes Chan plunge into you harder and you choke harder, his hips lifting up and thrusting into you.
A final flick of his finger over your sensitive button and a bit more pressure over your neck are all it takes for your body to flood with pleasure and ecstasy. Your legs tighten around Chan's sides, curling in as you ride out your high for as long as possible, still moving your hips against him. His fingers let go of your neck and you breath loudly, taking in huge gulps of air.
Not long after your undoing, he comes inside you, coating your walls with his seed as you feel his length pulsate within you. Thick strings coating your walls till it seeps from your vagina and drips down.
Once your body falls limp against his chest, equally fucked out and panting for air, you feel him going soft inside you. He kisses your forehead and your hair, pushing it from your face. He lifts you up, slowly slipping out of you and gently laying you by his side, the semen slipping out. His fingers rub small circles on your hips after pulling you closer into him, nuzzling into the sides of your breast.
In his warmth, with his arms over your stomach as he snuggles closer to you, you feel your eyelids heavy and fluttering shut. His lips are close to your skin, feeling his steady breathing and listening to it calms you down, steading you and increasing your melatonin, slowly drifting away to a state of peace, all in Chan's arms.
You stir in the bed, your hand reaching out for Chan only to feel the messy bed sheets and blanket. You wake up, brought to your senses well enough and you look around to find Chan only to see the light in the balcony turned on.
Putting on his white shirt messily, you rush outside to find Chan sitting and staring at the black sky. You sit by his side, shuddering in the cold and he looks at you fondly, cracking a smile.
"You're up?" You nod, teeth biting at the cold breeze that passes by, until you realise what Chan is staring at. It's snowing. It is the first snow in a long while and it's beautiful, albeit being late. He smiles at the purple mark that he has graced upon your skin. Chan stretches his arms out, blanket still in his hold as he offers to hold you close in this cold weather, to share his body warmth. He mumbles softly into your ears, "You should sleep a little more. It's going to be a tough day tomorrow. Aren't you meeting Jieun?"
"Yeah," you smile, watching the surroundings. "First thing in the morning. She seems to know a lot about everyone in this neighborhood. That, and I want to know why they treat Somin," Chan looks lost and you realise you haven't discussed it yet with him. "Kim Jihoon's widow is treated like that."
"I'm firm on this theory."
"What theory?"
"That Rowoon is the one killing people — bad homeowners — off because we'll, they disrupt his neighborhood. That or, they got drunk and it is still an accident."
"But Somin?"
"What? Anyone can be a bad homeowner! She's probably his next target." Chan chuckles and pulls you in closer. He holds you still for a while before he says, "We'll talk about the case tomorrow before you go to Jieun's. And you should clean up the mess of notes on the dinner table."
"You're the nagging kind of husband!"
"No." He is quick to deny. "I just like my house at least a bare minimum clean, alright?" You laugh out loud, falling into his hold as you try to contain your joy. Something soft hits your knees, barely visible but it settles softly.
Snow. It's snow and you see the snowflakes along with it. You watch them tumble, those feathered crystals, their chaotic flight to form a blanket that could not be more uniform, more orderly. And it's beautiful. So beautiful that it eases you and has you snuggle further into his warmth. Enough to make you forget everything for a minute there in his arms.
"I like snowflakes," you say, your head resting on his chest. There is a certain intimacy in the hour, in his hold, in this weather and between the two of you. A certain intimacy to friends who only sleep and work with each other shouldn't have. Chan looks at you, waiting for you to continue.
You do like snowflakes. A lot. Each snowflake is like a sculpture made out of paper. Each has a unique identity reflecting a crucial passage in the chosen source material with an equal amount of complexity carved out of minimal space and in the end, it falls down before someone, lighting up someone and making them happy.
"It makes me happy. It doesn't have to fit in or match with anyone else and it still means the world to someone."
Chan smiles and you know it is clearly one of your most favorite things in the world, your solace. You find the happiness growing, much as a spring flower opens. It comes from deep inside to light his eyes and spread into every part of him. Chan makes sure it is like that, that the world knows when he's happy but wouldn't, when he is sad. A person smiles with more than their mouth, and I heard it in his voice, in the choice of his words and the way he relaxed. It was beautiful. He was beautiful.
Maybe he'll teach you not to hold in your feelings. Maybe he will let you fall in love. All over again.
And you kiss him. It's short and quick, as chaste as the love you feel for him in this minute, in his arms. He leans forward and kisses you back and maybe, you both were snowflakes, as weird as you are, as unique as you — and yet the two of you make each other happy as corny as it sounds.
"Uh," Chan pulls back and rubs the back of his head and then his nape. "I—"
"Oh, a mistletoe, look!" You point and Chan turns back, frowning to look at the tree by the side with some creepers that crawl on its branch — creepers that were not mistletoes. You smile brightly as you continue pointing and Chan looks at you with a raised eyebrow.
"That's not a mistletoe."
"It isn't? I thought it was. My bad!" You laugh, eyes sparkling in mirth and cheeks heating up in embarrassment over the obvious lie you said. You sit up straight and look up at the sky.
"It's a pretty night for whatever shit that went down today," Chan comments, staring at the moon. The moon is a warm milky glow in the sky, as if the sight of her could become a song in the eyes of anyone willing to raise their head upward. You were and you were going to seize the opportunity.
Chan's gaze is fixed on the big moon and your head thinks of him and the words from Natsume Suseki and every other anime you were forced to watch, thanks to Jeongin. In every black night, he was the spark that rekindled hope in you.
"Is there something on my face, Y/N?"
"No," You turn back, smiling, heart fluttering and your mind at ease. "Just," you hold your chest, feeling the beating of your heart louder than ever.
"The moon is beautiful."
It's small and fragile. Once, and then, twice, till it sounds again and again and again through the silent air of your house.
The knocking on your door is repeated and you turn to look at Chan who stirs in his sleep, thanks to the same sound. You shuffle in your bed, trying to go back to sleep, presuming it is an illusion and nothing more. However, Chan heard it too.
"Is someone…"
"I'll go check," you mumble, huffing and throwing the blanket to the side. Luckily, Chan's shirt covers you up to your thighs. You jump out of the bed and your partner decides that it is safe to follow you to the door instead.
You open the door and in comes rushing a little boy, aged not more than eight, with tear stains on his face. He runs forward hugging your frame in his reach as he cries out loudly. Chan looks at the scene before him in delusion and you relate.
Who in the world is this child?
"Is everything alright?"
The child continues crying into your frame, burying his face into your abdomen. Chan squats down to come face to face with the child. His hand carefully holds the child's back as he pats him slowly, letting him calm down for a while before he asks again.
"Where's your mum and dad?"
"Dad isn't home. M-mum is," the child hiccups, choking on his own sobs as tears roll down his face messily. "She's in the garage and there's blood around her head and—" He cries fiercely and you hold the boy close to you, heart heavy because you know the worst possible scenario. Death.
"Why don't you take us there, okay?" Chan smiles gently. The boy looks with teary eyes at him and Chan quickly lifts him up in his hold. "Come on. Let's go."
And the boy was right and his worst nightmare comes true. You cover the eyes of the child to prevent him from further seeing the horrendous sight before him.
Because before all of you was the body of Kim Jieun, sprawled in her own driveway, her head crushed to a pulp under her garage.
An overturned shelf, a couple of paint cans that look like they have been thrown and some blood splattered on the floor is all you and Chan find last night. That, and a woman's broken pastel nail extension.
You would have checked further had it not been for your undercover and that Chan had been getting endless calls from Mayor Arsehole. Changbin fumingly goes on about how he sent the two of you to put a stop to this but rather there's another case on his desk now. The man does not calm down even after Chan says that the two of you were definitely looking for a serial killer and that these deaths were not accidents. If anything, it upsets him further.
This morning however, the sun shines brighter.
Chan walks into the kitchen, looking for you, teasingly shouting out into the air, "Honey, what's for breakfast? Eggs? Bacon? Eggs and Bacon? Or maybe it's ri—"
Before him on your cluttered table of a case file, notes and photos of evidence lies a sad bowl of soggy cereal.
"Soggy cereal it is," he frowns.
"I made it though. It should count for something, right, husband?"
Chan grunts and sits down, spoon digging into the bowl of cereal as he takes his first bite soon enough. He glances over at the wall behind the breakfast table. You have mapped out the relationship between every single person in this neighborhood, affairs inclusive and Chan lifts his lips in pride.
"Someone has been a bit busy. When did you even sleep?"
"Didn't fall asleep. So I decided to work on this instead," and Chan realises you were not even kissing. Your eyes are grogging and your face is a lot gloomier even though you are smiling off the joy of mapping it all out.
"Did you crack the case?"
"As a psychological profiler, I can say," you frown. "I haven't. I just can't figure out the connection here. These murders were distinctly targeted, so, why? Why specifically these three people?"
Chan stirs the milk in his cereal before he looks at you and suggests, "Why don't you look for a common enemy?"
"Huh?"
"Y/N, babe," you blush at the nickname and try to zero in on the matter in hand. "I know you and I see way too many crimes on a daily basis because of our job and that makes you and I think that we are chasing after some blood sucking psychopath," Chan pauses and eats a big bite of cereal. He munches on it slowly, letting you grow anxious in waiting, "We may not be dealing with some headcase who likes to strangle old women with pantyhose. Maybe we are dealing with a good old fashioned murderer; you know, the kind that kills people because they pissed them off."
You look at the board, index finger against your cheek and your eyes widen. "You could be right!"
"Don't look so surprised also," Chan mumbles, finally finishing his cereal.
"It could work. Maybe what the victims have in common is their relationship with the killer." You continue to stare at the board. Chan cleans the plate in the sink on the other end, mumbling at you to keep calm and that you would crack the case with him soon enough. You sigh, "I don't have enough information to look for a common enemy." You tap on the first victim, Yoon Yerin. "Especially on her."
Chan folds his arm and stares at you. This look ok you is another one of Chan's favorites. You purse your lips, eyebrows furrowed together as you concentrate. Your eyes don't waver just like your heart in moments like this and Chan thinks he could fall even further for you, for your confidence.
"I'll probably swing by her place and see what I can find there. What's your plan?"
"Drop by at Rowoon's and find out where the fuck he was last night when his wife was murdered and his child was all alone." Chan stands by your side and you nod.
"Be home by 6:30?"
"Sure thing, honey," Chan laughs and he kisses your forehead, his lips lingering for a little while longer and you still, body heating up in his contact.
You nervously laugh, pushing him away slightly, "You're in character," You laugh again. "Method acting, right? that's good."
Chan looks away, avoiding contact with you and mumbling, "Yeah. Method acting."
He wonders how long he has to put up with this stupid method acting.
"Any luck?"
"Besides having Rowoon almost barf on my very nice dress shirt, no," you hear Chan speaking through the phone. You walk further down the neighborhood, lush green trees on either side. As much as you despised Changbin, you had to agree — the neighborhood is great. Just that it wasn't meant for people like you. People not rich.
"Do you want me to press a shirt for you?" You tease.
"Would my wife do that?"
"In your dreams," you roar in laughter. Chan chuckles on the other end of the line.
"Anyhow, Rowoon was out fucking one of his mistress last night. He's also pretty fucked up with the death and has not stopped drinking."
"He has an alibi?"
"Yeah," Chan sighs. "It's definitely not my homeowner's rage theory then."
You walk a little more till you stand in front of an unremarkable suburban house. You tell Chan on the other end, "I'm here. I'll get back to you soon. Bye," and hang up almost immediately. Quietly, you turn on your tape recorder and speak into it.
"184 Arbor Way. The house that belonged to Yoon Yerin, the first victim. Yerin lived alone which is uniquely for this predominantly family oriented neighborhood. That alone may have made her stand out and a target for suspicion."
You walk around the house, trying to look into it and around it, "The place is scrubbed clean. Whoever Yerin was, I'll have to find out from inside. The outside is scrubbed way too clean to get rid of any possible doubts."
You take a step back and look around to see if anyone was passing by, before you lay your hand around the door knob and try turning it. It's locked. You wonder if Rowoon had the key. Glancing around carefully, you slide a paperclip from your pocket into the keyhole and jiggle it once — twice, till the door opens.
You smile brightly, "Some skills are rooted, ha! Thank God, I dated that sketchy guy back in college."
You pull open the door. Inside, the house is spotlessly clean. Almost as if no one ever lived in it. Whoever cleaned the place did a thorough job, almost leaving it spotless. You walk around the house, looking into every corner and room there to find anything. However, you are left looking at nothing but bare floors, undecorated walls and sparkling clean surfaces enough to shine.
You turn to leave, sighing out an air of disappointment when a gold sparkle catches your eye in the light. You bend down and find a man's golden cufflink lying against the corner of the room. Taking a latex glove from your pocket, you pick it up and bag it in a plastic cover, hiding it in your jacket as you leave only to bump into Somin.
"Oh, Hey," you stammer.
"I don't mean to pry but did you just come out from Yoon Yerin's house?" She raises an eyebrow and you hesitate, fingers holding the plastic bag tightly in your pocket.
"No, no, I—" You sigh, looking down. Lying after being caught red handed is useless. "Yes. I'll admit that I did."
"What on earth were you doing there?" She asks and you realise that to anyone from outside, your actions seemed very suspicious — enough to blow off your whole cover.
"The thing is, Yerin, I was there because," you close your eyes and inhale a sharp breath of air, "I was there because I got curious."
"Of?"
"I just heard what happened to Yerin and I needed to come and see the house myself."
"What could you possibly look for?" Her eyes waver and she looks back at the house.
"Some signs maybe," you look back to follow her gaze, "Maybe a blood stain or something. I know this might come out as a bit weird but I have always been fascinated by macabre. I even listen to Stephanie Soo's true crime podcasts regularly."
She smiles fondly and nods, "I understand. To be very honest, I was fascinated by Yoon Yerin too when I heard of her death. I tried coming by to see what had happened. But now," she sobs. "Jihoon is dead and so is Jieun. They say that there is a serial killer on the loose."
"It's so sad that it happened in this neighborhood," you take a step forward, trying to walk away.
"I know, right? The whole point of living in a gated community is to keep the awful things out." Somin leans forward and puts her hand around your shoulders. "Look, you seem like a really nice person, Y/N, so I'm going to be honest with you. There is something bad happening here, something very very bad. Keep your head down till it's over. It's for the best."
Her tone is lower than ever and the advice sounds scarier than usual, something as if it were to warn you of an impending danger. You call Chan and he picks up quick.
"About pressing your shirt? I think I can do that. I have some pretty cufflinks to match them."
Later that night, you sit in your kitchen, the same board looming over you. You try to map out even more connections on your chart of suspects. The whole board is so covered with lines of strings that it almost looks like a spider web.
Behind you, the door swings open and Chan comes in, strides longer and quicker to take him to you as he screams, "Honey, I'm home."
You laugh, twirling in your rotating chair as you look at him and ask, "How long have you been wanting to do that?"
"Since we got this assignment. Of course, I mean," he tries putting a serious face, "It is sad that we were forced to do this by Han when he blackmailed us with that sex tape—"
"It's not a sex tape."
"The footings, but," Chan smiles widely, "It wasn't so bad to play house with you, Y/N."
"Likewise, Chan."
"Now, did you find anything?" Chan asks, resting his chin on your shoulder once you turn to face the board, his hand on your other and you freeze, surprised by the sudden contact, ironically. "This mapping just got messier."
"Yeah," you exhale and your shoulders slouch. Chan stands up straight as he tries to understand the board before him. "I tried mapping all the infidelities and affairs and this is what I got. A whole mess. It's all convoluted now."
Chan's eyes widen as he tries tracing the lines with his index finger before giving up. "Is everyone cheating on their spouses here?"
"Almost everyone."
Chan takes a step back, opens the fridge and pulling out a can of beer, he goes to sit on the sofa. You turn your chair around and watch him take a sip of it.
"Wow, you look as if you're right at home," you tease.
"There's space for two here," he pats the sofa by his side, and grins sheepishly.
You get up and take your own can of beer from the fridge, mumbling, "I can sure take a break," and walk towards him, plopping down by his side. The two of you clink your beer cans, the sound clattering through the walls.
"It's Christmas tomorrow, you know?"
You hum in agreement, "It's my first one outside home."
"I hope we can crack the case soon so that you can at least spend a few hours with your family on Christmas."
"Hey," you nudge his arm, "The thought of spending Christmas with you does not repulse me, okay?"
"I had not even said that," Chan gasps. He turns to look at you, a glint of mischief in his eyes. "So does that mean the thought does repulse you?"
"Don't twist my words," you laugh.
"Do you want to get married?"
You choke on your drink, eyes wide as you look at him. He pats your back as he tells you to breathe slowly. You finally ask, "The thought or with a specific person?"
"Both."
"Yes, and no," you mumble. "I do want to get married once but," you look at Chan for a minute as he drinks his beer. "I don't think I have my feelings sorted properly to have the privilege to think of thoughts like that."
Chan leans forward, eyes dazed and fixed on yours. Has he always been this beautiful, this captivating? Has he always made your heart beat so much quicker?
"Do you think you'll ever be ready to sort them out?"
You sputter and choke again. Chan smiles again; this time however, it looked sad. He stands up, placing the beer can down on the table before. "I should get some fresh air. Take a stroll in the neighborhood and make sure nothing is going around, yeah."
You turn away, face too scared to look at him in worries of your emotions being transparent. "Yeah, you should do that. I'll get back to the mapping."
"I'll, uhm, I'll be back in a few." Chan rubs the back of his neck before quickly stepping out of the house. You sigh, head fuzzy with the overload of emotions.
He doesn't know you were ready. He doesn't know you wanted more. He doesn't know how you confessed that night to him in the moonlight. He doesn't know of how you feel, because of you. You never told him directly, always twisting your words and actions. If anything, you had no one else besides yourself to blame.
"Chan," you whisper but it's too late. He's out.
A step too late to realise as always.
You snap out of your daze caused by the overload of emotions. Getting up, you slightly slap yourself and mumble, "Focus. Back to work now." You reach out into your pocket and take the cufflinks to file away. You turn it around in your hand when it flashes.
"Wait a minute, wait a minute," you zero in on the object in your hand. "I've seen this cufflink before." You rush to the board, eyes scanning the pictures to see where you had seen it when it finally lands on the second picture pinned on the board.
You had seen it on the second victim — Kim Jihoon.
"Oh my god," you sigh, hand limp on both sides as you realise you know who it is. You know who the killer is and you know her motive.
"I know the killer. It's Somin, oh my—"
"Clever girl," you hear the feminine voice from behind you. You spin around quickly, hand on your chest as your eyes widen to find Somin standing by the door with a huge butcher knife in her hold.
"It was you!"
"That's right. Me." She takes a step forward. Instinctively, you glance back across the living room to where your gun hangs in a holster, draped over the coat rack.
Somin takes another step forward, speaking, "Sweet little Somin. Fragile, pitiful Somin. Somin who everyone always thinks they can pick on, lie to and laugh at — Ha!" He leaps forward and wildly waves her knife. She yells. "Well, who's laughing now? Who's laughing now?"
You dodge back, repeating to yourself to dawn the fact that it is true, that, "Jihoon was having an affair with Yerin."
"That ungrateful, cheating bastard couldn't wait to jump into that slut's bed. So I showed them both," she laughs. "I showed them both well."
"That I can understand," you edge closer to the coat stand to try and get your gun. "But why did you have to kill Jieun too?"
"Are you kidding me?" She yells. "That bitch stole my snickerdoodle recipe."
You huff out in disbelief, eyes narrowing at her and eyebrows furrowing, "Ah, I see. You're a full blown psychotic."
"I was going to stop after her, you know? But then you had to go and poke your nose around in the neighborhood. Stupid bitch."
Somin takes another step towards you and you know you are still far away from your gun. She is now almost at an arm's reach and you take a step backwards instinctively. She waves her knife again and you dodge it carefully.
"Who are you, huh? A cop?"
"An NIS profiler actually." She looks lost and you sigh. "A cop, yes."
"Well, Y/N," she glares. "Do you know what I hate the most? Liars." Somin lunges at you, jabbing the knife towards your throat. You dodge to the side, neatly weaving around the thrust. Somin stumbles past you, knocking over a giant carton of cereal, spilling it everywhere.
"Argh," and she swipes again. You dodge nimbly to the side again. Her knife cuts through the air with an audible hiss and the adrenaline pumps into your blood from the fear. The knife hits the fruit bowl and sends bright red apples scattering on the table, over your notes.
"Well, well, aren't you fast?"
"You've no fucking idea," you hiss, taking in as much air as you can. You back up and feel the counter behind you.
"Enough talk!"
You gulp, gripping the counter firmly. Somin dives towards you, slicing her knife at you. You reach back and grab a heavy toaster. You pull it around and holdi it out in front of you. It crackles loudly with a hot, electrical burst.
"Fuck." Somin jerks back, as if stung, the knife dropped from her grip. The knife clatters to the floor, it's tip blackened from char thanks to the electricity. Somin steps away, clenching and unclenching her hand.
"That fucking hurts, you bitch."
You drop the toaster and step back, putting your hands up defensively in front of your face. You propose, "Look, Somin, it's still not too late to surrender. We can still end this peacefully, alright?"
"You think I'm going to give up just because I lost my knife? I need to survive." Somin bounces up and down, assuming a combative stance. "I've been taking aerobic kickboxing for four years." She bounds towards you and shoots a lightning fast kick at your head. You guard your face and block her kick. She bounces back and aims to kick at your shins, hard. You jump, hopping back neatly avoiding her kick.
"Are you done?"
"No," Somin recovers quickly, spinning in a fast arc and throwing out a devastating, high roundhouse. You throw up your hands and block the kick. She staggers back, her balance off.
You seize the moment to spin around, swing low and lunge towards Somin, jamming the palm of your hand into her chin. You slide your one leg between hers and jerk back, kicking her feet out from under her and slam her down into the ground. The back of her head hits the cold tiles on the floor. You force yourself on top of her, pressing down on her chest with one knee and pant, "Four years of kickboxing, huh? Try seven years of krav maga."
She squirms under you, huffing, "Get off," and quickly lunging to get the toaster. Your eyes widen and you try to grab her hands. However, she's already about to throw the toaster when you hear the sound of metal clinking once and the toaster falling by your side.
"Nah, you're not going to hurt my wife," you turn to look at Chan, pointing the gun. He walks further ahead to the two of you. "Kim Somin, you are under arrest for the murder of Yoon Yerin, Kim Jihoon and Kim Jieun. You have the right—"
"They were all liars. All cheaters. It's not fair," she yells, struggling under your hold. You hold her wrists tighter and Chan slams the handcuffs on her.
"It's over, Somin. It's all over. The court will hear the rest, and the dead will have their peace."
"Did you reach home?"
Your phone is connected to the bluetooth speakers in your car and you hear Chan's voice in the small vehicle. You rotate the steering wheel as you turn to the right across the street. It's a comparatively quieter day, almost as if it's in stark contrast to the shit that went down last night.
"Not yet. I'm two minutes away."
"Merry Christmas, Y/N," Chan laughs and you smile, your lips pressed together to prevent you from breaking into a big grin. "Don't miss your husband too much."
"Still in character, I see." You press on the gas to reach home a little quicker. "Are you spending it alone?"
"Nah," you hear voices in the background. "I'm spending it with Felix and Han."
"Don't miss me too much either then," you tease back and pull up at your place. You park the car in the garage and sit in the car as you speak to Chan. "And I'll meet you back in office in a few days—"
"Did you reach?"
"Oh, yes?"
"Then, check the backseat. It's my Christmas gift for you," Chan says. You unbuckle your seat belt and lift yourself up to turn back and search the backseat only to find a small box. You stretch your arms to grab it and finally sit back in your seat.
"Did you find it?" You hear Chan through the speakers again. You hum in response and open the gift.
It's a necklace. A beautiful thin silver chain with a snowflake pendant hanging and you gasp, heart beating way too quick. He remembers. He remembers. He remembers. If you were not already flushed by the gift, the note stuck on the underside of the cover of the box has your mind fuzzy, feelings all over.
The moon is beautiful.
"Chan?"
"Yeah? Did you not like the gift? I'm—"
"I'm coming over in ten minutes. Send Han and Felix away. All I want this Christmas is you. Just you."
#straykidsland#chan smut#stray kids smut#skz smut#stray kids hard hours#skz hard hours#chan hard hours#skz fanfic#stray kids fanfic#stray kids imagines#stray kids scenarios#skz scenarios#skz imagines#stray kids#skz#bang chan#bang chan x reader#chan crime#stray kids crime#kpop smut#kpop scenarios#kpop imagines#writings.rue
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Tumblr Revival
Tl;dr
Tumblr has a large interconnected community of artists and content creators, and should focus on its strengths and what it does right. Instead of trying to compete for space against Facebook, Instagram, and Twitter. Tumblr should focus on empowering its community and giving that community the tools to develop the site's unparalleled uniqueness.
Tumblr is the crossroads of the internet, with a monthly user traffic of 300 million it is the perfect space for artists, content creators, and small businesses to grow their following without having to fight for a seat at the table against companies with huge budgets.
Hi, I go by Nacho here on tumblr, and I'm sure as many of us on tumblr have noticed, the (hell)site is kinda going downhill. Tumblr was bought by Automattic in fall of 2019, and I am sure they have the best intentions to help tumblr stay afloat. However, I think it's time the community took a more deliberate approach to how tumblr is handled, and hopefully Automattic and @staff will hear us out. I think I have a solid solution to tumblrs money issues, that will help both the site and empower its online communities.
First and foremost, I am not involved with Tumblr or Automattic. I am just a simple blog trying to help out a place that I've been on since 2010, and I would hate to see it die here around 2023.
So, let's get to the root of the problem on tumblr right now. That being money, tumblr is currently costing more money that it produces, as we've seen with its 97% drop in value from 1.1 billion dollar sale to being sold at around 3 million dollars.
So the first thing that must be improved before anything else can be improved on tumblr is how much money they're bringing in a month. I don't think folks on tumblr hate monetization as much as we all collectively say we do, I think the issue is that most advertisers are completely disconnected from the groups they are trying to advertise to on here. Tumblr comprises roughly 65% millennials and 30% gen-z, the two generations that advertisers seem to have the hardest time advertising to for a myriad of reasons. The main one being that they don't fully understand what we want, and sometimes just don't listen to what we are saying.
Lets look at how tumblr makes its money, Tumblr has four main revenue sources,
Ads by sponsored posts
Display ads through video posts
Sponsored Day ads or banner ads
“Premium Themes”
I'll go into depth on all of these and how tumblr could make potential changes to improve their revenue anywhere from three to six months after it implements some or ideally all of these changes.
First tumblr ads and sponsored posts, these changes are going to be contingent on tumblr allowing its users to share, like, and comment on ads much like all other media sites currently allow. Or at least giving advertisers the ability to turn that on or off as a function.
The average tumblr post gets reblogged 14 times, that number increases significantly if the ad is engaging and actually caters to the communities wants and needs. My reasoning for giving users the ability to reblog ads is to increase user engagement while maintaining their current ad vetting process and all of the nonsensical ads that are run on tumblr 90% of the time.
The other reason for allowing tumblr users to share and comment on ads, or have it be an option for advertisers to turn on or off as they'd like, is that the appeal of tumblr is the ability to propagate and obsess over the most niche things (i.e OSHA.)
All the while allowing content that gets shared all over the internet bubble up to the top through the collective hand of the tumblr community. Along with this tumblr has no way for small users to share their own products or services, every single major site has a way for users to advertise their pages or products through the site.
Tumblr is a content machine that creates imagery and memes that get shared all the time across the internet, so the ability to share and curate its own ads is paramount to improving advertising and user engagement on tumblr.
My proposal here is for tumblr to expand its advertising capabilities to all users, while charging a flat rate fee to advertise on tumblr, with additional charges for popular tags or trending tags. Tumblr currently has no self service advertising system much like Facebook does for example. Where facebook charges a daily rate on cost-per-click(CPC) or cost-per-thousand(CPM)
Charging a flat rate fee at a rate of a day, week, month, or quarterly basis with variances in prices based on the lease term and what the advertisers would want to have their ads show up on certain tags. This would open up the doors for small businesses that don't want to advertise on places like facebook, twitter, or google with their complicated CPM and CPC models. Also bringing in more small locally owned businesses with the added value of less competition for ad space on tumblr.
This would also take some of the weight from tumblrs own advertising staff from having to explain a convoluted system to potential advertisers. Creating a simplified model with the the advent of tumblrs own infrastructure able to get a single post to a large variety of users. Where the current ad model uses a “shotgun” method to hit as many people as possible, the tumblr model could encourage advertisers to curate a more personalized and intimate experience that tumblr users would love.
Why not just advertise elsewhere? Tumblr still in fact gets over 300 million views a month as of June 2021 (Statosta), and the added benefit for users to be able to like, share, and interact with ads would allow ads that the community enjoys to be talked about more. Giving advertisers more honest feedback about their ads while increasing their SEO’s.
Also small businesses that can't compete with the vetting processes that are used on other sites, would have a better chance of developing their business and increasing their clientele on tumblr whose core demographics are approximately 60% millennial and 35% gen-z. This core demographic does in fact care about being able to shop at local stores, or even a store across the US that is trying to drum up its own online sales.
These ads could be placed inline on the tumblr dash while moving other sponsored ads to the right of the site on desktop, but making them alternate on mobile between user ads and sponsored ads.
Second, the display ads should be changed to allow tumblr users to share and further interact with ads to generate more user engagement, incentivizing more businesses and companies to build their brand status on tumblr. Tumblr has a good model for creating short diaries or daily vlogs for companies that wish to show off their products on social media. This includes smaller businesses and vlogers that want to post videos or tutorials of themselves on their blog.
Tumblr is a good site for user engagement with a pool of creative potential for anyone wanting to gauge the desire for a particular subject or piece of media, maybe even an upcoming show. Having the ability to share and comment on sponsored ads would also help advertisers by allowing them to get more bang for their buck with a considerable uptick on how users engage with that content.
Third, tumblrs sponsor day ads and banner ads are inexpensive and should be highlighted as a selling point over their competitors. Tumblr 24-hour banner ads are considerably more affordable for businesses when compared to places like twitter with their 200k price point. For the same amount of money on tumblr a business could have their company at the top of the dashboard or app for 8 whole days. Much longer and much better than the competition.
Keeping this price fixed, with a change in the price CPC is still a much more lucrative and attractive selling point than any of the competition on the internet today. I know this might not be exactly what tumblr wants to hear when it is hemorrhaging money right now, but let's look at the cost for these 24 hour daily ads and banner ads. If tumblr hypes up the price point on these ads they could see a significant rise in advertisers considering the lack of competition on tumblr and past success stories of companies who did advertise on tumblr.
At the same time larger advertisers should be encouraged to make engaging ads and blogs on tumblr that will make people want to actually go to their blogs, that then link to an external site or page. Not ads that instantly try to force you to go to some other site, by rewarding or offering special discounts for people who find a special code or something off of the actual blog. Or even for giving the same code to everyone who reblogs a certain post made by the advertiser.
Seems too good to be true? Look at “Asos” back in 2015 when they held a shirt design competition on their tumblr blog. Where they had 900 submissions, four of which were picked, and were sold out of the user generated shirts in 10 hours.
This is not the only case however, but FX ran their own campaign for the show “Man Seeking Woman” where they saw a 2.8% increase in user engagement, 86% increase in their tumblr followers, and they actually saved money through advertising on tumblr.
All this leads me to believe that tumblr actually was and continues to be the best place for brands, small businesses, and artists to develop themselves through genuine user engagement.
Finally, the “premium themes” that are available on tumblr that allow for unparalleled customizations that you hardly find elsewhere on the internet anymore. Tumblrs ability to take a variety of media sources, as well as having an unparalleled level of customization, user interconnectivity, and a vibrant artistic scene shows that it is ripe with potential.
Tumblr could still use its post+ feature, but in the same way that Discord uses its subscription service. For cosmetic changes that can be added modularly to the site or individual blogs for an additional monthly fee. In conjunction with partnering with community artists to bring small cosmetic additions to individual blogs, while paying the content creator and tumblr taking a small portion of the profits over a certain amount.
To be completely honest this is probably the hardest portion of this entire pitch to make changes to in a shorter period of time, considering all the testing and “under the hood” changes that must be made. However, I think that implementing this as well as the other changes I have proposed will bring back more foot traffic to tumblr as well as increase its revenue and profitability.
In closing, I am simply working with whatever information I was able to find online and a good amount of time invested on my part to do this. I think tumblr has a ton of potential still to return as a force for good for the communities that exist and want a change from what the internet has become. Time and time again when any company or public entity dies it was because it did not change and refused to adapt and innovate, oftentimes not at the hands of the people working everyday to keep the site running. Instead at the hands of people who dont see the value in what has fallen in their laps.
If you agree and think this is something that can be done, please reblog this post and follow me for more updates. If I don't hear back or this does not gain any traction by the end of the year, then tumblr can go to its inevitable end. I will be here sinking with the ship.
@support @engineering @music @wip @changes @photomatt
#tumblr plus#tumblr post plus#tumblr staff#advertising#marketing strategy#changes#tumblr premium#post plus protest#community#automattic
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Daddy Issues | S. Jn
Pairing | Seo Johnny x Fem!Reader
Genre | Smut, fluff
Wc;type | oneshot: 3.93k [not proof read]
Warning(s) | Pwp, dilf!johnny, y/n's a pillow princess, daddy kink, overstimulation, teasing, edging, dacryphilia, slight voyeurism, degradation kink, heavy use of the words 'doll, princess, slut, pretty, angel', typical lyra smut, i made haechan johnny's son (i was about to write changbin as johnny's son but decided against it) age gap, unprotected sex ( the Reader's on pills. Remember this is a fiction, don't play the wrong card irl) filth.
a/n- i found this request buried in my asks and was tempted to write it. Sure, the warning looks intimidating, but i know you wanna read it, y'all whores (ily) shoutout to @bakugou-is-my-bae @cvntzennie and @jenopollo for helping me decide what to post first! @suhpersonic
Minors try not to interact! <3
Age is just a number, so surely, there's nothing to be ashamed or embarrassed of, right?
There's no reason for you to not fall for the friendly neighborhood bachelor, well not so bachelor bachelor, since he does go around asking people who knows of his marriage to pretend it never took place.
Johnny's hot, super hot. Has the build of a supermodel. Has the face that one can only imagine belongs to a greek god, as you'd jokingly tell him how he seemed to be god's favorite and how you loathe Aphrodite for showing favoritism (which would always end up with you getting a very sultry, teasing look from the lad)
Johnny has the type of personality that women can only wish the entirety of the male species would possess. He's an absolute sweetheart, life of the party, definitely the center of attention wherever he goes. And oh god, does he have an immaculate fashion sense.
But Johnny's also the father of Donghyuck. Your best friend.
More than being ashamed about the fact that you actually fell in love with a man who has a child of your age, it was the fact that you had to fall for Donghyuck's father of all people.
Donghyuck is a sweetheart, definitely got his personality from his father but he's also got that glare that could creep the Lord's of the darkness from his father. He's got so much from his father that the resemblance is uncanny.
You'd not want to get onto hyuck's bad side since you've gotten first hand experience at stopping him from almost committing homicide to someone who spoke shit about his friends, more specifically, you.
But Hyuck's not in town. So a little fun with Mr. Suh wouldn't hurt anyone, correct? After all, you're still only a human with desires and the want to take risks.
You'd always not so subtly drop hints at Johnny and he'd always give you that look that would have slick collecting itself between your thighs. A warning look.
A look that said, "cross the line and you'll get it"
But that's the thing, you want to get it and will do anything to get it.
"Y/n."
You'd ask yourself less than a million times if you want to do this or not.
Sure, you weren't this hesitant when you decided to sext your best friend's father knowingly when he was in business mode to irk him up but that's one thing.
And having to confront the same father who left a message smaller than a sentence that completely disregarded all the obscene text and images to show that he's not the slightest bothered or suprised by your behavior for that matter was another thing.
"Tomorrow at mine."
It's almost as though he deals with hormonal teenagers one as such as yourself on a daily basis and that thought kind of backfired at you considering the whole 'Let's piss Johnny off so that he'd finally give me what i want' agenda.
Ironic, huh?
"Mr. Suh." you start hesitantly, unsure of what to call him, scared of what his reaction would be after your inappropriate shenanigans last night.
Your stiff demeanor broke down a little with just a hint of shiver passing down your spine as you watch his features contort into a subtle but cocky smirk, "So now you're being all formal,"
"Well, what else would you like me to address you as?" you inquire, feigning oblivion to his tone and what he's implying at. "You tell me, doll. You seemed to have a lot of names to call me last night," he takes a step forward, prompting you to walk a step backwards, further into the corridors of his apartment and away from the actual location.
"I do not know what you're talking about.. " you let your voice shrivel towards the end, eyes wandering around the complex, finding interest in every small detail as you avoid Johnny's teasing gaze.
"You don't?" Johnny takes another step forward, latching his hands onto your forearms to prevent you from stepping further away, "You must have had a heavy sleep to forget all that you did last night," his voice drops dangerously low as he begins to walk backwards and back into the safety of his apartment, all the while keeping his gaze fixated on you.
"That won't do, would it? How about we take a walk down the memory lane? And see if that rings any bell?" He brushes your hair away from its static position on your shoulder, allowing him to appreciate all those fine details of your shoulders and neck that are exposed from your selection of clothing, an off shoulder.
"How about we don't...?" You ask with skepticism, jolting slightly when you hear the door shut behind you and at the new intrusion of personal space by the lad.
"Why are you acting all shy now, Y/n? Weren't you the one so eager to get into her best friend's fathers pants? Just be the whore you are, darling. Your facade's fooling no one." okay you definitely didn't see that coming.
Johnny's expressions morph into that of mischief as he watches your eyes grow wide and mouth fall ajar, "Am i not correct? Are you not a whore?" he asks with an eyebrow quirked up in a questioning manner.
You don't reply, almost as though the question was meant to linger in the open and that it was a rhetorical one. What you didn't expect, however, was for Johnny's hands to find pursuit around your neck, not necessarily applying pressure, but there as a warning.
"Answer me."
"I'm not.." you answer with a feeble voice, internally cringing at how squeaky you sound which only added to Johnny's amusement.
"Really? Because I don't think good girls go around drooling at a divorced man, her friend's father for that matter and definitely do not send lewd images and voice out their fantasies to a guy twice their age, still want to pretend you're innocent? Or you admit it and we cut down the chase?"
"Yes, I am." you breathe out when his fingers tighten around your neck, a triumphant smile making its way onto his lips. Yet, Johnny felt the need to keep pushing,
"you're what?"
"I am what you said I am," you speak, trying to avoid looking at the scrutinizing look on his face which seemed futile as he had his arms wrapped around your neck, keeping your head in place.
"I want to hear you say it, doll. I need to hear you say it." At this point Johnny's intent was to get you into a flustered puddle in his hold and it sure as hell was going in that direction, seeing how you can't even hold his gaze for more than a few seconds in a shot.
"I am.. I am a who-"
The sound of a phone ringing loud cut you off midway through your sentence, to which you were absolutely relieved. Johnny only seemed to grow annoyed the more he heard the phone ring. With a loud huff, he lets you go, not before giving you a stern look, "Go to my room." he instructed, making his way to the study.
You let out a breath you've been holding in unknowingly the moment he steps away from you. You watch his figure retreat from you with awe, only now realizing how messy you felt between your legs and how your knees keep buckling.
"Oh Hyuck!" you hear Johnny exclaim into the phone the minute you step forward to follow his command.
Your best friend is on call with the guy you're about to fuck.
Your blood runs cold as you shakily make your way into the apartment and towards the bedroom, shrugging off your sling bag, hanging it behind the door as you place your phone on the bedside table to wipe your hands dry from all the sweat that had accumulated at the palm of your hands.
"Yeah, I'm fine, about to eat to my dinner actually" you hear the moment to make yourself comfortable at the edge of the bed, looking over to the door where Johnny stood with his arms across his chest, the other holding up the phone as he leans his weight onto one shoulder, leaning into the doorframe.
You take the time to really appreciate his appearance. He adorned nothing more than a simple grey sweat and tight black tee but he seemed ready to walk down a runway at any given moment now. His long hair, slightly disheveled looking almost intentionally messed up, compliments his features. And oh his features.
The everlasting smirk stayed still on his lips, moving as he exchanged words with his son.
You only come back to your senses when Johnny snapped his free hand in front of you, gaining your attention. He points at his own shirt, then points at you, mouthing 'off' while he listens to Donghyuck speak about whatever he's speaking.
"Really? Jeno said that? Tell him I'm more than willing to welcome him as my gym partner, the lad seems strong" Johnny makes a quick move to remove the gadget from his ear, before holding it in front of him after placing the call on speaker mode
Your eyes widen the moment you hear the disturbance in the background and Donghyuck's voice resonate through the room. "no?? Why would you want to work out with him? He'll only make you feel old, you know?"
"Says the one who still can't beat me at arm wrestling. If anything, i think Jeno would make the perfect gym buddy for me," Johnny raises an eyebrow at your defiance, cocking his head towards the side, staring down at you with a predatory look, "Hyuck, you know, Y/n-" you scramble to take your shirt off at the mention of your name on the call, "-stopped by earlier" he lets out a silent laugh of disbelief.
"Oh? Oh yeah! I'd told her I'd give her book back before I left but I forgot, did you perhaps give it back to her?" Donghyuck questions.
"I figured you must've forgotten so, yeah i did." Johnny replies, pushing himself off of the doorframe, now walking towards you.
"Man, I miss her! I might facetime her after I end the call with you," Johnny sets down the phone beside you on the bed, leaning down, placing both his hands on either side of your lap, finding comfort at the crook of your neck,
"I remember her mentioning something about her cousin coming over? Maybe wait for an hour or so before calling her" his lips graze against your neck each time he spoke, you let out a tiny whimper at the so longed feeling, only to earn yourself a small bite at the earlobe, immediately accompanied by a hand over your mouth, "you need to be quiet, doll. Or my son would find out how much of a slut his best friend is," he whispers in your ear.
"Yeah? Did she mention which one?"
"No, not really, she kinda just stormed out after getting what she wanted" Johnny creates a trail of kisses all the way from your neck to your shoulders, down the collarbone while one of his hand worked to unhook your bra, "Yeah, she's weird like that," you hear Donghyuck let out a chuckle as you whine into Johnny's palm, your figure slightly trembling from the fear of getting caught all the while being excited about the risky situation he's put the two of you in.
"Anyways, I'll call you tomorrow? The boys are coming over now so I got to go! Night, dad!" Donghyuck speaks up again, "Night, Hyuck."
You hear the beep indicating the call has ended. Johnny let's his hand drop from your mouth and makes its way towards your hair, brushing through the strands before pulling at it with a firm grip, "I had my son on call and here you are making all these sweet noises, you wanted to get busted, doll?"
"It's not my fault! You-"
"ah-ah! Don't talk back, angel. You're already in deep trouble, don't want to add onto that now, do we?" He makes a swift move to have you lying on your back, your torso completely exposed to him while he remains clothed.
"But Johnny-" you whine, jolting when you feel his hands caressing the soft flesh of your inner thighs, "How do you think Hyuck would feel about this?" his hands travel further north, cupping your heat from underneath your skirt. "fuck, you're drenched"
"Now tell me, pretty girl, what are you supposed to be calling me, now?"
"Johnny-, tha-that was a joke! I don't have daddy kin-" you try clenching your thighs close from the sudden attention your core was receiving. Johnny wholeheartedly lets out a laugh at your attempt to hide your true feelings, making a quick act of disregarding your soaked panties somewhere behind him.
"Darling, the more you deny it, the longer we keep going at it-" his thumbs at your clit, applying pressure but making no move to quench your needs. You let out a sigh of bliss at the feeling, your back arching off of the sheets at the sensation.
In any other situation, you'd be embarrassed at how sensitive you'd gotten just from all the dirty talking and looks Johnny passed you. But that's the catch, he's Johnny, the only one who can get you this sensitive while doing the bare minimum.
"Say it, Y/n."
"No, Johnny! It's-it's embarrassing.." you plead with your eyes, grinding your hips against his fingers, earning a satisfied, dirty look from the lad.
"Very well.. I'll just draw it out of you"
Without warning, Johnny with little to no resistance, slides two slender digits into your wetness, setting a pace fast enough to draw loud chains of cries from your mouth.
"You hear that, doll? You hear how fucking wet you are? Hm?" he growls animalistically, the thumb that remained on your clit now moving in circles with a motive to get you undone in seconds.
"Johnn-..!" you whine out, feeling your orgasm growing so close that you could almost taste it, "Still going at that, angel?" he questions, not really expecting an answer as he soaks up the pleasured look on your face. "Johnny- I'm close.. -" you fail to notice the mischievous grin growing on his face as he speeds up the movement of his fingers.
"Of course you are, doll" He feels you clench around his fingers, back coming off of the mattress as you ready yourself for your release, waiting until the last minute to draw his finger out.
"Why would you-? Johnn-I was so close!" you cry out as you sense your core clench around nothing, whining about the incomplete orgasm. "Why would I give you what you want when you wouldn't comply, baby? That's not how this works." He shrugs, licking his fingers clean of your essence, moving up from the bed to remove the shirt that seemed to be suffocating now.
"Johnny, please!" you whine louder, rubbing your thighs together to create some sort of friction, all unsatisfactory as it did not meet the same intensity as that of his fingers.
"Please what, doll?" He smirks, knowing the ball is in his court and that you'd had to give in any moment now. Johnny leans down once again, drawing lazy circles at your clit, using his other hand to hold himself up above and close to you, his minty breath which had a hint of coffee fanning your face as you whimper, finally feeling your high building itself up again. "Spit it out, princess, you know you want to." he speaks in a soft voice.
"Please..please" you beg for nothing in particular, getting all worked up again, "The begging's lovely, doll. But you're starting to anger me here, will you say it? Or should I leave you hanging again?"
You mutter prayers under your breath, hoping he wouldn't actually leave you hanging again, "Fine-" he moves again to remove his fingers from you to deprive you of pleasure all over again when you finally latch onto his wrist, keeping his hands in place blurting out, "Daddy! I'm so-sorry.. There, daddy, please make me come" you give in, the name, the feeling and look of pure victory on his face as he grins like a cheshire cat only intensifies the heat growing at a rapid pace at the pit of your stomach.
"Final fucking ly, princess. Daddy will make you feel good" He reinserts his fingers in, drilling it with desperation to see you come undone as he draws rapid circles on your now sensitive clit with the other hand, watching you squirm under him.
"Joh-Daddy i'm coming..!" you cry out weakly as you feel your orgasm hit you with much force, easily driving you into over sensitivity. Johnny's patient in helping you ride out your orgasm, not stopping until you let out a throaty sob and plead him to stop to allow yourself some room to breathe.
Johnny, however, makes no move to stop, only speeding up his fingers, his gaze fixed on where his fingers disappeared inside of you while his other hand held you down with a vise grip, "Give me one more, doll. I know you've got one more in you. " he pants, the feeling of his girth in confinement only throwing himself to sensory deprivation as he feels himself twitch inside his sweats painfully.
You shake your head, tears now flowing elegantly down your cheek, your lips puckered into a slight pout, your eyebrows drawn together as you let yourself melt into the pleasure Johnny was providing you with. "Daddy.."
You whine, feeling your second high reaching you ridiculously quick as you see Johnny's face contort in concentration,
"I need to get you nice and wet for me, princess, you're doing so well. Give daddy another one" you coaxes you with his sultry tone, words and actions, inevitably having you come undone under him for the second time that night.
You let out a choked moan, finally having enough as you curl upon yourself the minute Johnny removes his fingers from you, full fledged crying at the overbearing feeling of sensitivity.
Johnny groans at the sight, leaning down to press a soft peck on your sweaty forehead before getting off of the bed to remove his pants alongside his boxer at a slow speed, granting you some time to recover.
"Condom?" he asks, readying himself to reach into the drawing when he notices you shake your head a no as a reply, "I'm on pills.." you mutter weakly.
You hear him curse out at the thought of doing you raw, flexing his muscles before climbing on top of you again. He takes his time to gently turn you back onto your back, pressing his tender lips against your irritated one for the first time that night, his hand ever so slightly moving to play with your clit once again, making you jerk, "Daddy!"
"Sorry, doll. Daddy just needs to make sure that princess is ready to take his cock"
Your whining intensifies at his words, wiggling your hips to move closer to his own, "But I am ready! Look, daddy! I'm so wet and ready for you!" you whimper, earning a chuckle from the lad.
Just like all the other times that night, he aligns his cock at your entrance without a warning, the tip ever so slightly pushing through your walls, "Alright, big girl. Show daddy how much of a slut you can be for him."
Suddenly, Johnny detaches himself from you, moving further away as he leans by the edge of the door, smirking at you whining at the loss of contact, "Patience, angel"
He grabs hold of your hips, manhandling your body into all fours as he enters you completely with no trouble once he's got you where he wants you to be.
Something about having to take Johnny from behind was so sexy that you could almost immediately feel your orgasm grow, "Fuck baby, keep clenching around me like that and i won't last long," he grunts, moving in you with a steady pace,
"I never expected my son to befriend such filthy sluts like you, Y/n. Look at the mess you're making on my sheets" He grabs a fistful of your ass in a tight squeeze, the sudden shift in his demeanor only serving as a whiplash as you feel yourself growing closer and closer to the sweet orgasm.
"Jesus, doll, you're so fucking tight i can barely move" Johnny growls, talking to keep himself from coming too fast.
"Daddy.. I'm close. M-I'm so so close" you cry as your arms give out and you fall face first onto the mattress, the new stretch in your back only encouraging his cock to hit you deeper, finding the sweet cushion that serves as extra pleasure for you.
"Me too, princess, me too.. '' You hear him let out a whine, his thrusts growing sloppier as he does you slower but deeper.
He reaches around your body to find pursuit at your clit for the nth time that night, rubbing rapid, messy circles to go with his deep thrusts, "Daddy!" you reach your high with a high pitched cry of his name.
Johnny comes not too long after you as he couldn't resist the constant tight clenching of your walls around his cock. He thrust slowly to ride out his high as you twitch helplessly, face scrunched up in too much pleasure.
You feel your body being manoeuvred onto your side as he whispers sweet nothings which pass right through your ears as you feel him softened inside you, the feeling ridiculously soothing for your used up walls,
"You did amazing, darling." he kisses your temple, not making any move to remove himself from within you, which you silently thanked him for.
You both lay in silence as you turned your body towards him, earning a hiss and a playful smack from him as it added pressure onto his sensitive member. You wrap your arms around his torso, about to nuzzle into his chest and just drift away to dreamland when you hear the familiar ring of your phone from the table beside the bed.
You feel Johnny's body shift to reach out to get your phone, looking at the caller ID before handing it to you with a smirk that you knew meant that he was up to no good. "Oh! It's hyuck" you exclaim in shock, quickly accepting the call and placing it near your ear, moving to get away from him.
But Johnny seemed to have other ideas, as he latched an arm around your torso to keep you from moving, "Hey-" you begin, immediately feeling Johnny experimentally thrust into you again, making you whine, "Y/n! I miss you~-oh hey, are you okay?" you hear Donghyuck's voice from the other side,
You look at Johnny with a pleading and warning gaze to which you earn yourself a toothy grin from the lad,
"Of co-course! Just a little.. peachy,'' You turn around to place a hand on his chest to halt his movement, "You don't sound just peachy.. I've heard you like this before!" you hear Donghyuck make those noises he makes when he's thinking as Johnny keeps thrusting lazily the more you look at him, you see him open his mouth to speak, "Oh fuck! You're getting laid, aren't you???"
"Tell Hyuck daddy says hi"
#nct smut#nct ff#nct au#wayv#nct#johnny smut#johnny ff#nct 127 smut#nct dream smut#donghyuck ff#donghyuck smut#haechan smut#suh johnny ff#nct johnny smut#nct preferences#nct preference#nct u smut#nct 127#nct u#nct dream#nct fanfic#nct fanfiction#nct oneshot#nct johnny ff#seo johnny ff#seo johnny
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They Just Don't Know You
Soft Yandere! Seo Moon-Jo x F! Reader
Disclaimer: This is just a work of fiction. If this piece of fan fiction is offensive to any celebrity, fandom or culture please let me know so I can take it down. Also note that this is my version of a character or celeb, which will vary from person to person.
Author's Note: A 2nd longer fic for our lovely cannibalistic psychopath. I hate that I'm attracted to him. Someone please be my therapist. Or psychiatrist. Honestly doesn't matter. My brain is fucked anyway.
Copyright: Please note that this is my work and if you want to publish this on any other platform, take my permission before doing so. Taking an author's work and posting it somewhere else without any intimation is just disrespectful. I readily welcome suggestions and criticisms. That being said, Happy reading! 🤍
Warnings: 16+ and written for female reader, but all can read. (nothing specified with respect to appearance, etc of reader). Except that I've mentioned reader is short, cuz LDW is tall 🥰. There is a brief mention of sex, but no actual smut. Reader kinda highkey hates on her parents and younger sister. Read it to know. Age gap between reader and Moon-Jo. Slight obsessive thoughts. Manipulative words. I tried to put plot twist in the end, probably you won't notice it 💀. Please please tell me if I need to add more warnings. Do not read if you start to feel uncomfortable. I apologize in advance 🥺
❗❗PLEASE READ WARNINGS ❗❗
Pre-Requisite / Summary: Just a fic based on the song They Just Don't Know You by Little Mix. After watching Strangers from hell I related this song to him for some reason. Reader and Moon-Jo are in an established relationship. And reader's loved ones don't approve.
2.3k ish words My longest fic till date 🥳
" You know that he's too old for you. You can settle for younger, much younger guys for your age sweetheart. If you can't find anyone eligible enough, we will find one for you. And you don't even know if he has intentions of marrying you. What if all he wants is just a fling or some time pass relationship. Hmm? What are you going to do then? "
Sipping her tea silently, Y/N sat next to her dad on the porch swing, listening to all the criticisms he had about Moon-Jo. All his words did was boil her blood. But what could she do when they don't walk in her shoes? They don't know how safe and content she feels when he kisses her like she's the only girl for him in the entire universe. And no point in explaining that to her father anyway. She's tried. And failed. Multiple times.
"Are you done with your tea?" She asks her dad, in desperate attempt to try and get away from him and his words because she knows, and even he knows that it's going to end up in a fight if they continue to speak on the same topic.
Humming yes, he hands her his tea cup which she takes to the kitchen so she can help her mom with dinner. Placing them in the sink upon entering the kitchen, Y/N drags her palms down her face in frustration.
" I could hear what he said you know. Your dad. He's not wrong. Seo Moon-Jo seems like he'll break your heart in three. And we're only looking out for you Y/N. You don't have to go through heartbreak when you can very well avoid it." Her mom finished slowly.
" Why. Why is it so difficult for you to accept the fact that I'm actually in a happy relationship for once in my life. So what if he's much older than I am? He's a dentist. A doctor. A very good profession and he's known and well respected in his neighbourhood too. " Y/N said loud enough for her dad also to hear.
Huffing in annoyance she left the kitchen to go upstairs to her room. Or rather the room she shares with her sister. Of course the door is wide open. The younger rascal is always here for the drama.
Ever since Y/N came out to her family about her relationship with Moon-Jo, her sister has become the favourite child, for obvious reasons. And now eavesdropping with the door wide open? That's a new low. But what else can Y/N expect from such a low life who is literally thriving off her own sister's pain and suffering.
When entering the room, Y/N realizes how big a mistake it was to visit her family. And she did not need such snark from a younger, less experienced child.
"Are you that blinded by " Love " that you don't even see how weird his hair is? A man who isn't an idol or actor doesn't need such long hair. He's clearly a fuckboy. Or man whore. Whichever is right. " She said with disgust.
'She's just jealous. She's just a jealous bitch. They all are.' Y/N thinks to herself.
" At least one of us gets laid regularly. And just so you know, it's absolutely heavenly when he makes me cum over and over on his fingers and his dick-" Y/N said as her tone slowly got lower and darker and her emotion angrier.
Screaming and covering her ears, the younger girl ran downstairs to her mother, no doubt to tattle on her older sister. Rolling her eyes, Y/N started packing her things, all of them, in a bag she took down from the top shelf of the wardrobe.
It's really difficult to leave one's family, but it is clearly getting more and more tiresome to love them nowadays. If it's so wrong to date him, why does Y/N herself not see it? She's a logical and smart young lady. Does her family hate that man so much that they don't even want her to be happy? No matter who she's with. And is it so bad to date a man who's older? Richer? And cares more about her than all of her family members combined?
Wiping the fallen tear stains from her cheek, she just thinks to herself ' They just don't know him. They just don't know him like I do. '
Sending a text to her lover, saying that she misses him and that she's coming back home sooner than planned, Y/N carries her bag through the front door, her parents and sister ignoring her as she leaves and walks out that door one final time.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Once reaching their shared apartment, Y/N collapsed into her lover's arms the moment he opens the door, crying her eyes out. Seeing his lover in turmoil, shedding a tear or two of his own, Moon-Jo carries her to the living room couch to cradle her like a child who needs attention.
" They- They said -"
" Shh my darling. I know. " Moon-Jo said, shushing his girlfriend and giving her a shoulder to cry on. Once she's calmed a little, her sobs turning to sniffs, she lifts her head to meet his gaze.
Seeing her sad, tear stained eyes always upset him. More than anything in the world. Running his long slender fingers across her cheeks and jaw, he removes her hair from her ponytail with his free hand and rests it on her thigh.
" Tell me. Please tell me that you won't break my heart like them. That you won't try to tear my world apart like them. " Y/N looked desperately at him, wanting so badly to know that he's not just using her.
Those words, that slipped out her mouth, shocked Moon-Jo, to say the least. What did he do wrong? What did her family fill her head with?
Tilting his head to a little, he looks into her red eyes, trying to read her mind for a moment, all the while she just looked at him with the same desperate expression.
"Please tell me that you will be there when I need you the most. " Y/N whispered so softly, she herself barely heard it. But the end of the sentence, she started crying all over again.
Taking her head to his neck, he stroked her hair and her sides, trying to calm her down.
" Darling. I promise with my everything, that I will never leave you, I will never ever let you go. That I will do anything, anything necessary to prove my love to you. "
"No, oh dear no. That's not, you don't have- have to do anything at all to make me believe you love me. I'm sorry I asked such a stupid question. " She sobbed out.
Shushing her softly again, he rocks their bodies back and forth, till she's calmed and fallen asleep there, in his arms. Knowing that his arms are her only safe place for her from now on, he takes her delicate figure to the bedroom.
Placing her on her side of the bed, he lays down on his. Staring at her stunning face, he feather touches her face with his fingertips, memorizing every curve, every little detail on her, like a sculptor admiring his work and giving it the finishing touches.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
" So, I did a little digging on your sugar daddy. "
" Why?! And he's not my sugar daddy. " Y/N said in disbelief. No. Not her dear best friend too.
" I know you said not to and I'm sorry. But I am worried about you. He made you leave your family Y/N. " They stated with worry and sympathy.
" No. He didn't make me leave them. I left them by choice. They don't see him like I do. And clearly, they hate that I'm happy with him. " Y/N finished as they sat down at the lunch table.
" Y/N..... "
" What? Even you don't want me to be happy? " She questioned her friend in disbelief. Laughing sarcastically Y/N shook her head.
" I've heard rumours! Okay? He was in the orphanage that had that severe fire explosion. And most of the culprits from that incident are MIA. What if he's one of the people who caused it?! " They said in a whisper, worried that the neighbouring people can hear their conversation.
" Do you really think that? All of that is just a rumour. And he's told me about it. He's told me everything. Unlike my parents who so desperately tried to tie me down to an arranged marriage. "
" He's not good for you. I know you deserve better. Okay he may make happy and all but what if he leaves? What if he just uses you and drops you like you were nothing? We're just trying to make sure you don't get hurt Y/N. Physically and emotionally. " They finished.
" This, all what you said, is cheap talk. But it'll eventually wear down because when we get married and have kids and all that in the future, you're all going to look like fools. And I will proudly say ' I told you so '. "
" If that's the case then I am the happiest person for you. Hopefully I won't have to be the one to say ' I told you so'. "
" Wow. I, just- hah. Wow. Just wow. " She paused.
" You know, I really hoped you would be more supportive or at least tolerant enough to have patience and support me with my decision for my love. " Y/N said loud enough for eavesdroppers to hear audibly.
Of all the people she would have to drop, never even in her nightmares had she fathomed that her best friend would be one.
Getting up from the table, she picks up her bag and leaves without another word, and goes to the only place that has love for her and that accepts her.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Reaching home, Y/N notices the place empty. Maybe he's at the clinic?
Shrugging off her bag and jacket she sits on the couch for a moment, before her restlessness takes over and she begins pacing in the living room.
Why are people being like this? Do they hate her so much? They barely know him. Why are they treating and accusing him to be such a criminal! He's not. He takes care of Y/N so much. He loves her so much. He provides for her. He's affectionate with her, more than he's told he thought capable. He's become her ride or die. And she, his.
They don't know him like I do. They will never love me like he does.
They don't know about the love they have. The just see what they want to see. Bloody society dictating whom to love and whom to not. Is it so hard to see the love they have for each other? Can't they just let it be. They don't know the turmoil she's gone through recently; they don't know how well he's taken care of her, kept her happy and same enough to not let her intrusive thoughts get the best of her.
Her thoughts interrupted by the door clicking open. Smiling, Moon-Jo enters with a box, surely containing sweets from her favourite bakery. How can you not love someone so considerate, who does things for you without even having to ask.
Seeing the sad look upon his lover's face, Moon-Jo's smile fades into a frown.
" What's wrong my dear? "
Smiling sadly Y/N just shakes her head, conveying that she doesn't want to talk about it.
Placing the box of sweets on the coffee table, the two hug each other, feeling of comfort taking over them both. She can just stay here, forever, in his arms till the world ends.
" Babe. What's wrong? You can tell me anything. Anything at all. I'll take care of the problem. " Delicately Moon-Jo cradles Y/N's head in his palms, making her face up to him, their height difference evident.
Sighing, she moves to sit on the couch, motioning him to do the same. " It's just people. And what they say. My family was one thing, but my best friend, the person I chose as my family " Pausing Y/N breathers the tears back in, " They were doubtful of you today. How can I live knowing that no one will approve of us? " Y/N questioned looking at him.
" Does their opinion really matter that much? So much so that you are skeptical of my affection to you? " Coldly, he moved back from his seat on the couch.
" No! No. Gosh that is not what I mean. Not at all. I love you and I know that you love me. So much. So much so I would die for you. But there are other people whom I care about. Who's opinions matter to me. And I don't want to let them go. As happy as I am with you, I need them too. They give me joy in a different way, that is important. "
" Do I not make you happy? Are you not content with the love I give you? Is it not enough? " He asks carefully.
" That's not what I meant! You love me more than anyone I've known. "
"Then what's the problem? You don't need those people who don't love you. You have me. You will have me forever and ever. I will never leave you. And you will never leave me either. We'll be with each other till the end of the world darling. "
Nodding with a small smile you looked down at your feet.
Unhappy with your action, Moon-Jo pulls your face up by your chin to look at him with such force, it scared you a little, making your heart skip a beat in fear.
" Do you not love me, babe? " He asked tilting his head to a side, his expression mildly offended.
" I do! I love you. So much. " You finished with a soft tone, cupping his face with your hands.
Grinning like a Cheshire Cat, Moon-Jo leaned down to capture your lips with his. Reacting immediately, you kissed him with as much energy and sincerity you could muster, as you head filled with thoughts of doubt.
Had your parents been right? Had for friend been right? Had they all been right all along and you too blind to see?
No. It can't be. He loves you. He's said that so many times. And you love him.
You love him.
You.
Love.
Him.
...
Do you love him, or have you been illusioned into loving him?
#lee dong wook#lee dong wook imagine#lee dong wook x reader#ldw#strangers from hell#strangers from hell x reader#hell is other people#seo moon jo#seo moon jo x reader#seo moon jo imagine#seo moon jo x f!reader#yandere seo moon jo
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Stray kids reaction to y/k having tattoo sleeves? 🙏🏻 I’ve seen reactions where they specified a couple tattoos but I wanna know what their reaction would be with someone that has sleeves. Or wants to get more tattoos (; also could some of the settings be like on a date? Like during the stage where they’re getting to know y/k?) thnx 💓
Reaction to boyfriend who has a tattoo sleeve
A/N: So I only did three members (picked at random) to avoid this getting repetitive, I think I strayed a little off topic, not sure, but please let me know what you think of it anonie, I loved writing it, and I am so sorry it has taken me so long to write it, all the love and in hopes of having more time to write now that college application and decision time is coming to a wrap 💖
Seo Changbin (Implied NSFW Content)
y/n and Changbin meet on the coldest day of winter, it’s literally freezing and the entire city is basically iced over.
y/n is the new producer at JYP and it just so happens that Changbin is asked to work with y/n on a project.
At first Changbin is really skeptical, y/n is this quiet, kind of scary looking person and he communicates through glaring and frowning instead of words.
Then Changbin starts to slowly get to know him and things change, he finds out that y/n isn’t rude or scary and they get pretty close throughout the time they are working on the project.
When they are no longer work colleagues and the project is complete, Changbin works up the courage to ask y/n out on a date.
They don’t officially date or anything for a while, they go out together on a couple dates and hang out, they spend lots of time together and it is very obvious they are both basically in love with each other.
y/n doesn’t try to hide his tattoos or anything, Changbin’s seen a few of them, the one on the side of his neck and the ones on his wrists and knuckles but he’s never seen the whole thing.
Then one day they’re sitting in Changbin’s studio and somehow y/n spills an entire thing of iced coffee on himself and he’s only wearing a long sleeved shirt.
Changbin has a spare shirt from dance practice so he goes to grab it and in the meantime y/n pulls his dirty shirt off.
Changbin finds the shirt in a drawer and turns around to give it to y/n and he just freezes.
y/n doesn’t even notice him staring, he takes the shirt offered to him and slips it on going back to whatever he was doing before while poor Changbin stares on in shocked silence.
“Why are you staring at me like that?”
“You have so many tattoos.” Changbin mutters quietly.
y/n smiles slightly, “You don’t like them?”Changbin shakes his head quickly, he loves them, if he had wanted to kiss y/n before now he wants to jump the other man’s bones, he thinks they are hot and such a turn on.
y/n seems to understand as much and he goes out of his way after that to put them on display even though it’s still freezing outside.
Changbin isn’t complaining (at first), after a while he just finds himself staring at y/n’s tattoos, they aren’t even officially dating so he can’t just grab y/n’s arms and trace over the tattoos or ask the older to do anything to him.The whole thing leads to a lot of frustration on Changbin’s end and a lot of amusement on y/n’s.
“You know you can look at my tattoos if you want, you don’t need to look away every time I look in your general direction.”Changbin’s cheeks flare read but he hesitantly moves to sit closer to y/n and runs the tips of his fingers across one of the many tattoos.
“They’re so hot.” Changbin slaps a hand over his mouth as soon as the words leave it, y/n on the other hand finds this hilarious.
“Are they?” He is so close to Changbins face and his arm has moved to wrap around Changbin’s waist.Changbin remembers every thought he’s ever had about y/n’s hands and the tattoos and what he wants the older to do to him and he can see all the tattoos so close that it makes everything so much worse.
y/n’s smirk is enough to convince him to move towards the older and pull the other’s arm around his waist, he has no idea where the confidence comes from but at this point he has nothing to lose and he’s been fantasizing for way too long anyways.
Things end up so much better than he had every dreamed of and he has to concede that tattoos are the hottest thing ever, especially when they’re y/n’s and they stand out on white knuckles that hold Changbin’s hips down.
Hwang Hyunjin
Hyunjin loves tattoos, he thinks they're cool and the moment JYP lets him get a tattoo (I am not sure if he already has a tattoo tbh) he is getting a tattoo because tattoos are just so cool.
So why doesn't Hyunjin know that his boyfriend (of like 4 months) has enough tattoos to cover 90% of the skin on his right arm?
Simple, answer.
y/n is an idol, he isn't aloud to show his tattoos on national television, and since a lot of his initial interactions with
Hyunjin had been backstage at music shows...
music shows = no tattoos being shown.
So let's go back to the beginning to get a clear picture
Hyunjin and y/n first meet at a music show backstage, Hyunjin has heard of y/n but he hasn't really seen pictures of the other that often and now he is face to face with probably the most attractive person he has met in a long time.
y/n is leaning against a wall in the hallway outside the bathroom in a beautifully tailored suit and Hyunjin, who is walking out of the bathroom, is completely enamored by this man that he might know the name of but can't be sure.
person walks past Hyunjin and y/n shoves his phone into his pocket talking happily to said person before they disappear down the hallway.
Detective Hyunjin mode = activated.
His detective work involves a quick google search to identify what group y/n is in and confirm his name, turns out he was right about the name and so he spends the next 2 hours of waiting before he has to preform just scrolling through pictures and tweets about y/n.
He resolves that day that he needs to talk to the other no matter what it takes, he just needs y/n's number.
His first plan is to recruit Jisung and Jeongin's help because they tend to find talking to new people easier and maybe he won't be as awkward if he talks to y/n with other people present.
This plan falls through very quickly because instead of helping all Jeongin and Jisung do is laugh at him.
He turns to his second (and last) plan.
Lee Minho is 2 months older than y/n, so maybe by some stroke of luck Minho knows y/n, or someone in his group, and Hyunjin can maybe convince Minho to help him start a conversation with the other.
Hyunjin is in luck, not only is Minho more empathetic about his hardships than Jisung and Jeongin but he just so happens to know y/n well enough to be able to walk up to him and strike up conversation.
Hyunjin follows Minho with gradually decreasing confidence.
Sure he is going to get the chance to talk to y/n, which is what he wanted, but what the hell is he going to say?
Should he just ask for the others number?
Just introduce himself and maybe y/n will ask for his number?
Maybe he can just turn around now and run away before this gets particularly embarrassing for him?
Maybe the floor underneath him will open up and swallow him whole because good lord y/n just smiled in his general direction and why are there so many people in this area at this specific time?
Turns out y/n wasn't smiling specifically at him, he was smiling more at Minho.
"This is Hyunjin, he wanted to tag along."
"Hey, I'm y/n, it's nice to meet you." Maybe his smile will kill Hyunjin before he remembers how to talk.
"uhh-hh, yes I know, I- uh, Hyunjin." God why was that so awkward someone save him, where did Minho walk off to? who is that? why did he take Minho away from him?
"Are you okay?"
"yeah, yeah, I am good." god he needed salvation right now.Basically, Hyunjin is awkward and nervous and he feels like the first meeting is a complete disaster and y/n will never talk to him again.
Somehow though y/n decided he isn't pitiful enough to ignore and walk away from, it takes a bit of prodding and joking on y/n's part for Hyunjin to relax a little and they hold a decent conversation.
When Minho informs Hyunjin they have to head back y/n is typing his number into Hyunjin's phone and urging him to send a text whenever.
y/n and Hyunjin talk often after that, they meet again just a little over a week later backstage at a music show again and decided that they should take the risk and start dating.
They're moving a little quickly true, but, they can learn more about each other as time goes on.
Neither one of them is necessarily free at any one point in time, they see each other at a few events but their dating is limited to talking over the phone and basically texting all the time.
And then the day comes.
Hyunjin has the day off and y/n has wrapped up a photo shoot, the timing is perfect, the managers are okay with it and Hyunjin is buzzing with excitement because it's been almost 4 months and he is going to go to his boyfriend now.
They decide to meet at y/n's empty dorm just to be in each others presence.
So Hyunjin is standing outside the dorm door waiting for y/n to let him in and he is just shaking with happiness.
So when y/n opens the door with his hair a little messy and no make up on, Hyunjin's first instinct is to launch himself at the other and hug him as tightly as he can.
They might not have been able to see each other these last four months but that doesn't mean Hyunjin hasn't learned enough about the other to love him.
y/n only laughs and pulls him into the dorm hugging back with a soft smile on his face.
Hyunjin is so busy hugging y/n that he doesn't see the tattoos covering y/n's right arm.
He doesn't see them in fact until after he's been ushered into y/n's room and is about to head towards the cat laying under the window.
He turns around to ask y/n about the cat's name and then freezes because holy mother of all beings is that a tattoo sleeve?
"Yeah, is it a problem?"
"A problem? god no!" Hyunjin moves closer to war his fingers around y/n's arm and raise it so he can inspect the intricate designs.
"They look so cool, this just makes me want a tattoo even more."
y/n laughs, "I can take you to get one." Hyunjin looks up with starry eyes.
"Management would kill, but I don't really care anymore."
"Maybe you should get it okayed before you do anything?"
"If they try to kill me you'll come riding in on a motorbike and wearing a leather jacket and save me." Hyunjin replies with a serious face.
y/n laughs, "That is just a stereotype, my mom would kill me if I got on a motorbike."So what did Hyunjin learn today?
He definitely wants a tattoo and wouldn't mind getting yelled at by management for getting one behind their back.
He wants y/n to go with him because this man is an expert and if anyone (y/n included) disagrees then Hyunjin will be inclined to fight them.
y/n is 100% a mama's boy and Hyunjin is living for it (Another one of his life sources at this point in time is y/n's tattooed arm wrapped around his waist but he doesn't want to discuss those emotions just yet).
Yang Jeongin (I.N)
So y/n’s a barista at a cafe and that is how Jeongin meets him first, it is late summer, the uniform for the cafe workers is a button down white shirt so even though it is 35 degrees (Celsius) out Jeongin never sees y/n in anything but his work uniform which is a long sleeve button down white shirt.
After 2 months of (not really) subtle crushing Jeongin asks y/n for his phone number, they chat for a few days and then go on their first date in early October.
The date is a sweet, cliche outing, Jeongin is a blushing mess 90% of the time and y/n treats him with so much care.
Dates aren’t that frequent after the first one but just before winter Jeongin and y/n make it official.
At this point it is so cold that there is never a moment for Jeongin to see y/n without a coat, hoodie or long sleeved shirt, so he lives a life of blissful ignorance for almost a month.
And then one day he is sitting at the counter in the cafe, y/n is just finishing his shift and Jeongin is waiting for him.
The manager walks by and tells y/n to clean up before he hands over to the next person and so y/n moves to the sink and rolls up his sleeves.
Jeongin isn’t really paying attention, he’s a little focused on his phone, but then he looks up.
😯 = Yang Jeongin when he saw y/n’s tattoos.
“Your face literally just derailed.”
“I didn’t know you had tattoos.”
“Well you didn’t really ever get a chance to see them.”
Silence.
“I am sorry I probably should have told you before this.”Jeongin doesn’t respond to that, he doesn’t know how to, so he sits in silence contemplating the situation, while y/n finishes up.
When they walk out of the cafe it is in strained silence, Jeongin doesn’t like it at all.
“Can I see them?”
“Sure, let’s go sit somewhere.”They end up on a park bench, y/n with his sleeves rolled up and Jeongin carefully tracing the ink covering y/n’s arm his eyes widened in awe.
“What’s the meaning behind thisone?”
“Nothing really, I got it because I thought it looked nice.”Jeongin laughs lightly and goes back to studying the tattoos on y/n’s arm, now that he is over the initial shock of discovering the tattoos he is enraptured by them.
He’ll probably stare at them whenever y/n wears something short sleeved, or rolls up his sleeves.
He genuinely thinks they are really cool and thinks his boyfriend is like a million times cooler with them.
#kpop x male reader#x male reader#male reader#gender neutral reader#x reader#kpop x reader#kpop x male reader reaction#kpop x male reader imagines#kpop x gender neutral reader#kpop x gender neautral#stray kids#skz#stray kids reactions#stray kids x male reader#stray kids prompts#stray kids x reader#stray kids imagines#stray kids changbin#stray kids jeongin#stray kids hyunjin
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Hi hello! So pleased to hear your requests are open! Can I please request for a marriage au mafia style where the reader gets hurt or assaulted by the rival gang in front of him and due to being restraint he can't get to her and he cries and begs for her stop. Then thankfully Chan and the others come to the rescue and you want nothing more than to be in chnagbins arms. Maybe a lot of angst and fluff afterwards too. Can't wait to see what you come up with 💕
Pairing: Fem!Reader x Changbin
Warnings: Mention of violence and blood; cursing and language; lots of angst and some fluff at the end; mature content
Genre: Mafia AU; Established Relationship
Where are you?
It feels like a dream. The very strange sensation of that in-between state because you were incapable of distinguishing consciousness from something less than.
Am I alive?
You must be, aware of the sensation of cold, shivers running down your spine, raising little bumps across your arms...
“Princess!”
What? Did you hear that?
“Y/N!” the voice came again. More urgently this time.
You realized then, with the grounding agency of that sound, that your eyes were closed, but it was a struggle to open them, slowly coming back from whatever had sucked you down, wincing at the dull pain in your head.
“Y/N,” the voice sighed this time. Like it was relieved to see you cognizant. “Tell me you’re okay, love.”
Love?
It hit you at that moment, the sound of the voice. One you could recognize no matter the degree of darkness holding you under, and you managed to open your eyes enough to meet Changbin’s gaze from across the room.
“Changbin?” you questioned. Or, at least, you thought you said his name. You couldn’t be sure since the sounds around you made it seem like your head was underneath water, distorting everything, and the roof of your mouth was dry and tasteless.
“That’s right, love,” Changbin said, and you struggled to keep him in your line of vision, watching his form swim and dance in strange directions.
“I don’t feel good,” you admitted, hearing what might’ve been a sharp intake of breath.
“Where does it hurt?” Changbin asked, and you frowned at how difficult the question was since you weren’t sure how to answer it.
There was too much numbness, and you were far more concerned with restoring your senses, slowly feeling your ears open back up and the things surrounding you come into focus.
Meanwhile, Changbin was still talking. “I’ll kill them all,” he growled. “This was never supposed to happen.”
Them? you thought to yourself vacantly, gingerly turning around as much as your bindings would allow, realizing only after a brief relapse of confusion that your hands and legs were tied to the metal chair you sat on.
“Where are we?” you asked, finding your voice amidst everything else.
“I’m not sure,” Changbin whispered, and he suddenly sat upright in his chair, eyes narrowing and features taking on that practiced hardening that you associated with your husband at his most dangerous.
But a Changbin bound and tied by seemingly impossible to escape restraints didn’t exactly scream power to you. In fact, it seemed more like a power imbalance, and you were left reeling for answers when the sound of a distant door opening and then closing filled the space between you both.
“I see you’re awake now,” an unfamiliar figure announced, voice slightly accented. He walked with an arrogant swagger, matching the exaggerated steps he took and the smirk he wore on his grizzled features. “We’ve been waiting.”
“Don’t touch her!” Changbin snapped, jerking against his restraints as the veins in his neck visibly popped in response to his obvious anger and frustration.
“Who? The girl?” the man asked with a lazy gesturing towards you. “Then you’ll give us answers, no?”
“What do you want?” Changbin asked, and you noted how his fingers were clenched tightly against the arm rests attached to his chair.
“The new shipment of weapons,” the man said. “Your men took them from us the other night. Came in and shot my best sniper.”
Changbin sighed, clearly frustrated. “They were originally assigned to us.”
“But then we made a better deal!” the man growled. “It was my name on that contract, and you had no right to interfere.”
“Says who?” Changbin asked, fishing for more information.
“I can’t tell you that,” the man replied. “I’m only the messenger.”
“You act like it’s more than that.”
“Oh?” the man smirked. “Well, I am a big deal.”
Changbin glowered at the arrogance. “I don’t lead the organization.”
“I know, but you’re an important player,” the man continued. “And your name was everywhere when I started investigating.”
“The weapons were a necessary exchange,” Changbin argued.
“But they were ours!” the man declared passionately, and Changbin knew better than to try to argue with someone so overzealous.
“Fine,” Changbin huffed. “I’ll have my men restore the weapons.”
“Wonderful,” the man sighed, tucking his hands into his pocket. “There is one more thing, though.”
“One more?” Changbin snorted.
“I know of your importance, Mr. Seo,” the man said. “I assume that you’re someone in possession of good information.”
“Like what?”
“Like that little bar you opened downtown,” the man continued, taking another step closer.
You froze when he pulled a knife from his pocket, studying the way the light reflected off the harsh metal. “What about it?” Changbin grumbled, eyes focused on the obvious danger in the room.
“I’m curious about its sudden success,” he said, and you shivered when he started circling your chair. “Seems like something is missing.”
“Just good business,” Changbin said, but you could tell he was trying to get one step ahead of the guy - discerning the meaning of this unexpected conversation.
“Or, you figured out how to delegitimize the competition,” the man harshly exhaled, and you whimpered when you felt the cold blade of the knife tease the sensitive skin of your neck.
Changbin sat up just a little higher, biceps flexing against his restraints. “What the hell are you talking about?”
“Obviously,” the man hissed, digging the blade just enough to draw a tiny pinprick of blood. “You’ve sent your men undercover to spy on my business! To spread rumors and lies and turn my clientele away!”
Changbin chuckled at the outrageous claim, but it was devoid of any humor. “You probably fucked your business over yourself.”
“Do you think I’m a fool?” the man growled, searing metal against flesh. “I know men like you, Mr. Seo, and I’m willing to bet that you’ve played a bigger part than what you’ve let on.”
“I have better things to do than fuck with some second rate booze club,” Changbin growled. “We’ve got clubs all over downtown. They’ve all been successful, and it has nothing to do with sending off the competition.”
Changbin smirked then, something harsh and mocking. “Maybe you’re just a really bad businessman.”
But it was the wrong thing to say, and you withheld a scream of terror when the man suddenly wrapped biting fingers into your hair. “You want to save your cocksleeve?” he growled, gripping even tighter to your aching scalp and wrenching your head back to expose your throat and the small laceration he had left there on the smooth skin. A puddle of red amidst the rest. “Tell me why you did it!”
“I can’t!” Changbin snarled in return. “My guys never stepped foot in your territory.”
“LIES!” the man roared, and you were teetering precariously in your chair, back legs lifted from the safety of the floor.
“If you hurt her,” Changbin said, and his tone was staggered and weak. “I will make sure you suffer a thousand times worse.”
The man laughed, incredulous as he looked around the room. “And what do you plan to do about it?”
Silent tears fell down your glistening cheeks as you felt the man’s warm breath against the side of your face. “Maybe violence isn’t enough for you. Maybe I need to get what I need by other means.”
Your stomach dropped at the guttural tone, trying to meet Changbin’s eyes from across the room. “You’ve been warned,” Changbin said. “The grave you’ve dug for yourself is deep enough.”
“Oh?” the man laughed. “Well, since you think you’re in such control here, let me remind of you of the reality of the situation...”
“Changbin!” you cried when you were abruptly lifted from your chair, knife cutting through the ropes binding you, sending you colliding back against the solid mass of an unfamiliar form, loose hands roaming across your torso.
“Stop!”
Changbin’s voice was just veering on the edge of desperate, recognizing that you were in no position for him to sound anything less than serious.
“Stop?” your captor repeated in a mocking tone, and you felt the blade of the knife return to your throat, slicing down harder and finally triggering the hair-raising scream that you had been suppressing. Trying to be brave for Changbin.
“You can’t do this!” Changbin cried, and you were amazed to see the faint rivulet of a tear stain - the mark of weakness that your husband tried so hard to suppress in this violent line of work.
If you thought about it, there were only a handful of times that you had ever seen Changbin cry.
“I’ll do anything,” Changbin whispered. “I’ll even take her place! Just don’t hurt her anymore.”
“Hmmm?” Your captor relinquished his threatening attack, and you could breath a little easier when he turned his attention back to Changbin.“What if I offer you a compromise? Tell me how you’ve managed your business affairs, and I won’t kill your little plaything.”
Changbin inhaled sharply, gaze full of a sinister rage you knew was reserved for his greatest enemies. “You’ll be screaming for a death of your own by the time I’m done with you.”
“You still don’t understand,” the man sighed, and you gasped when chapped lips brushed against your cheek. “Maybe I’ll fuck her first...”
“You won’t have the time.”
“Says who...”
He trailed off then. The last words you ever heard from your captor before an enormous explosion interrupted the tension, walls and floors shaking as dust and debris fell from the ceiling overhead.
You could feel the body behind you trembling as well, but you knew that it wasn’t from the explosion. It was from fear, and in a split second of panic, the man shoved you to the ground, and you yelped when your head collided hard against the concrete.
You attempted to pull yourself back up, but there was something numbing and weighty keeping you on the floor, darkness swimming threateningly in front of your eyes once again.
There were familiar sounds: the sharp click of a gun, the whizzing of bullets flying overhead, and the cacophony of screams and yells.
The pain was keeping you from focusing, aware of vague figures passing in and out of your periphery, running and moving in all sorts of directions. It was chaos at its finest, and you were incapable of comprehending any of it. Instead, you could only focus on two things: the pounding of your pulse against your eardrums and the intermingled buzzing of familiar tones.
There was a hand on your shoulder, but you were incapable of responding to their call, succumbing to an irrefutable and dreamless sleep.
The first thing you noticed when you were capable of understanding your surroundings, was the silky fabric of the bed sheets.
They were smooth to the touch and you flexed your fingers around them, humming in contentment when you silted open your eyes just enough to confirm that they belonged to you and Changbin. The ones you used on the King-sized bed in your shared room.
But therein lay the problem: you were alone in the bed, and the only voices you could hear certainly didn’t match the same tone of your husband.
You swallowed hard, flinching when the motion brought attention to the thick bandage around your neck, and upon touching the material, you were bombarded with a barrage of images reminding you of everything that had happened the previous night.
It was enough to leave you shaking, seeking some form of comfort as you roused your body just enough to turn around to the sound of those voices, recognizing Chan, your husband’s boss, and Seungmin, the residential healer.
“Chan?” you groaned, grimacing at the dryness in your mouth.
“Y/N,” he acknowledged you, rushing over to your bedside in an instant. “How are you feeling?”
“Okay,” you said, watching as he lifted a bottle of water to hand to you.
“Drink this.”
You nodded, taking it from him. “Where’s Changbin?”
The question was met with silence, and you frowned when Chan and Seungmin exchanged quick glances. “Well, if nothing hurts, then I have other appointments,” Seungmin said, hurriedly dismissing himself from the room.
“Coward,” Chan muttered, but he was nothing but smiles for you, coming to sit down at your bedside. “Changbin...he’s busy.”
The answer wasn’t satisfactory, and your heart started beating a little faster. “Where?”
“Downstairs,” he said, and you knew exactly what that meant.
“He brought him here?” you muttered, hating the idea of having someone like that under the same roof you called home.
“Changbin insisted,” Chan replied, and you realized that he disapproved as well, but it still didn’t help your tender sensibilities, and you were ready to implode from the inside because you needed Changbin’s comfort.
“I need him,” you said, fixing Chan with a stern look. “Can you ask him to come up here?”
“He won’t be convinced until he’s done,” Chan said, but his gaze was soft as he leaned in closer. “I can help, if you’d like.”
It was a nice gesture, and normally you might take him up on an offer of comfort, but Chan wasn’t going to heal the turmoil bubbling inside of you.
The emotions burst forth, and your eyes had already glossed over from tears shedding themselves like dead leaves falling from a tree in the middle of a windstorm. “I just want Changbin,” you sobbed, and Chan was barely perceivable through the mess of your tears.
You could tell Chan was upset by your dismissal, even as his fingers tried to brush away the wetness dotting your cheeks. “I’m sorry, Y/N,” he said, and it spoke to a history between the two of you that often when unsaid.
You had been given to Chan, your organization’s leader, as a peace offering from a rival mafia group. It was a cruel trade, and you resisted as much as you could, especially since, at first, you were meant to be his betrothed.
And you came into the Miroh Group with a determination to resist them to the very end.
Until Changbin stole your heart.
From there, you couldn’t believe that you had gotten so lucky, falling in love whole-heartedly, capable of forgiving Changbin’s worst sins.
Including his more sadistic tendencies.
“You can try to see him,” Chan said, seemingly satisfied after wiping away most of the evidence of your internal breakdown.
You nodded immediately, even though you understood that what you might find downstairs wouldn’t be anything comforting.
You felt a little unsteady on your feet, even with Chan helping you down the concrete steps descending into a place you tended to avoid.
The smell of alcohol and blood were both overwhelming, and you stumbled on the final step, rearing back at the sound of a truly gruesome gurgle that reminded you too much of drowning.
In the middle of the room you managed to make out Changbin, wearing dark pants and a white t-shirt, allowing you to see all the blood painting the texture in ugly patterns.
But then your attention wandered over to the poor soul strapped to the chair, barely recognizable because of the damage caused by your husband, the one who was gaping at you while holding a knife in one hand and scissors in the other.
"Y/N,” Changbin whispered. “Why aren’t you resting?”
You shook your head, looking past the gruesome, mangled damage to see the pained expression of your former captor.
Changbin had made good on his threat to tear the asshole apart, and your stomach rolled at the awful display of violence.
Done at the hands of the man who made the sweetest love to you in the dark recesses of your bedroom.
Still, you craved his presence, falling into his open arms as he held you close after tossing aside his tools. “Shhh,” he whispered to calm your tears.
“You weren’t there when I woke up,” you sniffled.
“I’m sorry, love,” Changbin said, soothing your cries with soft cooing.
You savored his closeness, tucking your chin over his shoulder and opening your eyes to look upon the decrepit appearance of your former captor. “What are you doing to him?” you asked, and you felt Changbin sigh as he pulled back from you.
“I know you don’t approve, love,” Changbin said, and he glanced down at his ruined t-shirt and jeans, drenched in blood.
Under most circumstances, you would agree, but you felt your hand jumping to your throat, wrapping around the bandage covering your wound.
Changbin frowned at the movement, likely remembering the events that led to your injuries. “Kill him,” you said, and both Changbin and Chan seemed taken aback by your response. It was completely out of character, coming from someone who often disapproved of the murderous part of their work.
“Y/N,” Chan whispered, and you could see that he wore wariness on top of his horrified expression.
“Come upstairs soon,” you said, squeezing Changbin’s hand with your own. “I need you.”
Your husband nodded, looking at you with something akin to awe as you left the downstairs basement with Chan hot on your heels and torturous screams assaulting your ears.
Chan only left your bedroom once Changbin arrived, showered and clean, wearing sweatpants and a t-shirt.
“Careful,” Chan whispered to him on the way out, and you shivered.
But there was nothing that could warm you up more than Changbin, and you even managed a smile when he climbed into the bed behind you, wrapping a strong arm around your waist to pull you closer. “Hi, princess,” he whispered, and you felt like bathing in the sensual tone of his voice.
“Changbin,” you sighed in return, turning around so that you could face him.
“It doesn’t hurt too much, does it love?” he asked, reaching out to tenderly stroke his fingers across your bandages.
“Not anymore,” you said. “Seungmin did a good job.”
“He better,” Changbin rumbled, and you tried not to roll your eyes at your husband.
“I was really upset earlier,” you said. “When I couldn’t find you.”
“That’s my fault, princess,” Changbin said. “I didn’t know you would wake-up so soon....and there were things I needed to take care of.”
You sighed, closing your eyes hard against a distant image of your mind conjuring the bloodied and ruined form of your captor. “Did you find out who he belonged to?”
“Yeah, a small organization under Park,” Changbin said. “He was more than willing to talk after I took one of his fingers.”
Your heart twisted at his nonchalant tone. “I guess you silenced him.”
Changbin hesitated, pausing to look at you with concern. “Are you mad at me?”
“Just...disappointed,” you said. “I couldn’t hold myself together.”
“It would’ve torn me apart,” Changbin replied. “If I let him go without making him suffer for touching my princess.”
You closed your eyes, feeling Changbin trail his fingers across your arm. “But you’re here now?”
“Of course,” Changbin agreed, leaning in to kiss you gently. “I’m yours, love. For as long as you need me to hold you.”
“Might be all night,” you said, moving up to kiss under his jaw. “I need you in a lot of ways.”
Changbin chuckled at your implications, leaving nothing to be imagined as you grazed one finger over the front of his sweatpants where his cock lay flaccid. He titled your chin at a better angle, a glaze of lust darkening his eyes. “When you feel better,” he purred. “I’ll take care of your little pussy.”
You shook at his seductive promise, curling even closer to him as Changbin’s thudding heart lulled you into a comfortable peace.
#changbin fanfic#changbin imagines#changbin scenarios#changbin angst#changbin x reader#changbin x you#changbin x y/n#changbin fluff#stray kids fanfic#skz fanfic#stray kids x reader#stray kids scenarios#stray kids imagines#skz imagines#skz scenarios#mostlycompetent
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title — a clouded fate
pairing — badboy!mark lee x female reader
featuring — lucas wong/wong yukhei, johnny seo, lee taeyong, nakamoto yuta (mentioned), lee donghyuck (mentioned)
word count — 17.2k
overall warnings — extreme drug use, drug dealing, alcohol use, language, religion, addiction, drug overdose, vomiting, one explicit smut scene
smut warnings — fingering, protected sex (stay safe, always!), high sex, corruption kink for like 0.2 seconds, degradation
collab — bad boy bingo collab, link here
lyrics inspiration — “call it quits, call it destiny.” bruno major, easily ; “gotta stay high all the time, to keep you off my mind.” tove lo, habits
writing playlist — link here
author’s message — oh my gosh, it’s finally here! this has been a work in progress basically ever since early summer, when i started writing on this blog. this is one of my favorite pieces i’ve ever written, but not because writing it came easy to me; quite the opposite. i scrapped and rewrote this three times, consulted many people for their opinions because i simply didn’t think that it was good.
a few thank you’s: my babe @jensungf for reading the first draft when it was at barely 5k, the lovely @ncteaxhoe for reading it at 7k and also the night i finished it, @taempteng the writing god for proofing it for me, and my amazing @starlit-jeno for getting me through everything. also thank you @legendnct for hosting this collab! it’s finally at a place where i am happy and very very proud of what i’ve written. i hope you all read and enjoy!
—DAY ONE.
The ice cold water thrown over him shocks Mark awake from his post-high sleep.
“What the hell, man?” He exclaims, wiping the water from his face as he sits up in his bed, soaked t-shirt sticking to the curve of his clavicles. His eyes meet the source of the intrusion: his roommate and best friend Lucas, holding a now empty pitcher.
“Dude. It’s past noon. Wake up.”
Lucas’ passive words only make Mark furrow his eyebrows in annoyance. “Shut the fuck up bitch, I’m awake.”
“Someone’s feisty today.” Lucas retorts, tossing Mark a towel as he swings his legs over the bed. Rubbing the sleep from his eyes, he recognizes his best friend’s chastising tone in his diluted ears. “When did you get back last night? What were you doing?”
“Calm down,” Mark groans, the volume of Lucas’ voice beginning to hurt his head. Running a hand through his now wet hair, he responds, “I was smoking with Yuta. Got back around three in the morning.”
“Yuta,” mumbles Lucas. “You know, I don’t like him. You’re always with him, getting high or something. Exams start soon, and you’re not planning to study at all? You’ve been high every day for what, like, the past two weeks?”
This early morning lecture is enough to cause Mark’s irritation to spike. Since when is Lucas so nitpicky? Last time he checked, Lucas enjoys partying just as much as he does. Sometimes, even more than Mark himself. “Fuck, are you my roommate or my mom?”
“I’m your best friend, is what I am. I’m worried about you. All you do is party, get high, and sleep. When was the last time you even ate?” Before Mark can even think back to answer that, Lucas continues, “You’ve been like this since you broke up with Y/N, and—”
Mark cuts him off. “Don’t say her name.”
“You’re hurting, Mark. And this isn’t the right way to handle it.”
“Oh, so you take one psychology course and you think you’re an expert or something,” Mark scoffs.
This seems to stunt his roommate for a second, before he sighs looking down at the image of his best friend sitting on the edge of his bed, gaunt eyes and all. The last time he saw his friend looking so pitiful was when his dad had passed. “I’m just worried about you. You should let me be, sometimes,” replies Lucas quietly.
“I’m an adult,” says Mark, which causes Lucas to scoff and respond, “Then act like one.” Annoyed, Mark stands and instead takes a seat at his desk chair.
The taller male speaks up once again, starting to tear off Mark’s bed sheets that are now wet. “You need to stop. This isn’t good for you. Stop the drugs and tell Johnny you’re done. Study for your finals. Get your act together, stop acting like an idiot, and go get her back.”
When he finishes stripping the sheets and looks up, Mark’s head is in his hands. “It’s not that easy.”
“You love her.”
“But that doesn’t mean we’re meant to be together,” Mark finally says as he looks up, voice raised in frustration at both the situation and the fact that his best friend is calling him out for it. “We can’t be together,” he declares. “I’m only going to ruin her. She’s good. I’m bad. She has a future. I don’t. She’s everything I’m not and I can’t mess it up for her. Not after... Not after—” Lucas cuts his friend off, sensing that he’s about to start hyperventilating.
“I know. What happened, you can’t change it. It was your fault. But don’t say you’re not meant to be together. Nothing’s going to change the past. You broke up. But nothing’s going to bring you back together but yourself.”
Mark stares at Lucas with tired, red-rimmed eyes, wondering when his tall goofy friend had grown so much. Has everything around him changed, matured, while he stayed the same?
“How do I do that?” He finally relents.
“Make yourself good enough for her. Start with the drugs. Stop doing them.”
He knows the truth in that statement, but doesn’t want to acknowledge it. It’s a lot easier said than done. With no words to say, Mark stands and starts to walk past his friend toward the bathroom. On the way out, he accidentally kicks his guitar, on the floor propped on the wall. “Fuck,” he curses, looking down at the old wooden thing.
Lucas follows him out as he leaves the room, and Mark steps into the bathroom. Opening the mirror cabinet, he pulls out his prescription bottle which shakes with noise. Silently he pops a pill into his mouth and swallows it with a handful of tap water. It’s probably a bad idea on an empty stomach, but he’ll eat whatever Lucas is making right after.
“That includes the Xanax, Mark!” Lucas’ voice calls from the kitchen.
“Baby steps,” he responds, staring endlessly into the pitiful character watching him in the mirror.
—THE FIRST NIGHT
It isn’t his first party, but it’s his first college party. There’s a big difference.
The scale is larger, the alcohol more plentiful. And more importantly, the shame of being under the influence is nonexistent. His ziploc of kush feels heavy in his pocket, but he knows he’ll feel lighter with its effect later on. School’s only been in session a week, yet Mark’s already decided he likes university more than high school.
He hasn’t smoked yet, but clearly others have, from the haze wafting from room to room. The music is loud, the air is musty, and there’s a cloud of visible smoke surrounding a group of people in the corner. He can smell it now, the familiar scent relaxing him in a new environment.
He’s about to venture out to said group, catching Lucas’ ashy gray hair (a horrible decision, really) sticking out from its inhabitants, but then something catches his eye.
In a room of dark gray smoke and purple LED lights, a white dress catches his attention. He turns his head and, faded by the blurred intensity of the smoke, there you are. Leaning with your back against the wall, alone. You’re not doing much, just standing there in your awkward lonesome looking entirely out of place while swirling the contents of your red cup in your hand. With seemingly no move to drink it, you’re staring blankly into said cup, and Mark stares blankly at you. The white fabric of your dress seems to vividly attract the iridescent purple lights of the party, leaving you to stand out in the massive crowd. Though from the way you stand out from the crowd, it seems that that’s the last thing you want to do; you’d rather blend into the scene.
But you don’t. You’re a beacon of white light in the gray bleakness of the party, and Mark contemplates his next action. He had promised Lucas that he’d be his wingman to try and win over Yuqi. But there’s something about you that pulls him.
Oh well, he muses to himself as he slides across the room toward you. It’s not his fault Lucas needs a wingman to talk to girls, and he doesn’t.
“Hey,” he starts, trying to make himself heard above the music. “You’re staring at that thing like you need a refill.”
At the sound of his voice you look up as though suddenly startled. Then your eyes land on him and Mark’s not entirely sure if he’s sane, but you relax. “No thanks,” you respond politely. “I don’t drink.”
“Really?” Mark glances at his red Solo cup, half filled with some sordid mixture of vodka and Fanta that Doyoung had given him earlier.
“Is that strange?” You ask curiously as he makes move to lean on the wall next to you. Except rather than lean his back to it, he presses his shoulder to the wall to face you.
“A bit.” Mark says as he tilts his head back, pressing the red cup to his lips as he downs the rest of the liquid in his cup.
“Maybe. I’ve learned that there are more people who drink in college than people who don’t… I guess I fall into the second category.” When he finishes his drink, he tosses it over his shoulder.
“Nah,” he says in response. “I don’t really drink either. Only occasionally. I’m already a mess with the weed, imagine how much I’d be if I was an alcoholic.” He nearly expects you to laugh at his lame attempt at being playful, but he’s met with silence. Still, he doesn’t miss the way your eyebrows quirk slightly upward at his words. Right now, dark hair tousled and dark ripped jeans decorating his legs, Mark thinks he looks pretty good. But you don’t seem to be as interested as girls in the past.
“You smoke…” Your words trail and Mark finds himself enraptured by the form of your lips as you talk. His mind flies, but you continue, “How’s that like?”
He shrugs. “It’s nothing, really. Just fun. I have some right now if you want,” he says, patting his jean pocket.
“Oh, no,” you immediately recoil, as if it were preposterous. Immediately your eyes widen and you shake your head at him. “Not-not that people who do it are bad or anything! It’s just… not my thing.”
If you didn’t drink or enjoy any substances, what were you doing here? He asks this aloud.
“My roommate dragged me,” you explain. “We’ve only been living together for a week since the year started but she’s… something else. I’ve seen her smoke more than I’ve seen her study.”
You almost sound scared. This causes a laugh to leave his lips, and yours. He’s finding, in the mere two minutes of conversation you’ve made, that you are very different from the girl he thought you were across the room. You were indeed like your dress that attracted him: bright, pure, and comfortable.
And he wants you.
Your silence brings about Mark’s introduction. “I’m Mark, by the way.” His hand stretches out to you and you stare for a second.
“Y/N.” You place your hand in his, and from the jolt he feels in his heart, the first of its kind, that is the first time that Mark Lee believes in the existence of fate.
—FIVE HOURS CLEAN.
If someone had told Mark in his freshman year of high school that he would become a drug dealer in college, he would have directed them to his father’s church and told them to pray a bit.
Yes, prior to his entrance to adulthood and the cruel, cruel world, Mark Lee was a church boy. A good boy. He did well in school, dedicated his weekends to church and playing basketball with his boys. Up and down the high school halls, his signature laugh could be heard at any moment he wasn’t in class.
Then the summer before his senior year, Pastor Lee passed from cancer and Mark’s boisterous laughter became a long forgotten sound.
It was two weeks after his dad’s funeral that he met Donghyuck, a boy with shady eyes who offered him some kush. Just want to try it, Mark had tried to reason with his conscience when he took that first hit behind the school. Then he fell into the fatal world of drugs and partying. Lucas had been there since their junior high days, sad to see his friend fall so poorly, and he had forced Mark to get his shit together for graduation that year. Barely.
So yes, he was once the bright eyed boy he always wanted to be, who read the Bible front to back and wouldn’t have known how to roll a joint, but that was fantasy. He wasn’t that anymore. He’s a college student trying to get along with the little money he can make from selling weed and other things. He had first gotten into this when he met Johnny Seo, two years above him who could tell that Mark was struggling to make tuition and rent with a job at McDonald’s. Now Johnny has graduated and Mark is still doing his dirty work for him.
That’s exactly what he’s doing now, standing outside Taeyong’s house a little past 6PM with a pouch of kush in his bag.
It’s easy money, but that never calms his nerves.
Even when the door opens to reveal Taeyong, shirtless and red hair in disarray, Mark doesn’t stop bouncing his foot in worry. His restlessness isn’t lost on Taeyong, who had obviously just woken up. “It’s 6PM,” Mark says, eyebrow raised at his appearance.
“I was up all night working on a track.” Taeyong’s eyes flicker to Mark’s bouncing foot. “You’re bouncier than normal,” he comments as he counts his bills in his hand.
“Haven’t had my fix today.” Mark explains simply as the older male hands over a wad of cash. As he counts it silently, Taeyong points his thumb over his shoulder to his living room.
“Wanna come in and hit some?”
Mark looks up at his offer and sighs inwardly. It would be rather easy to just give in and smoke a bit with someone he trusted, and he wouldn’t even be paying for the weed. He’s tempted. After weeks of being stoned nearly every day, he’s starting to itch for a fix. But Lucas’ gruff voice rings in his mind and he knows that if he gives in, only five hours in, he’ll never be able to live with himself. So for now he does it for Lucas, but maybe in time he’ll see that it was for himself after all.
“I’m good.” Mark nearly shoves the pouch of green into Taeyong’s grasp, wanting to be away from it as soon as possible. The red-haired recipient only blinks.
“You’re giving it up or something?”
“Or something,” mumbles Mark sullenly, tucking his hands into his pockets.
“That’s good,” Taeyong declares after a short silence. Mark looks up, meeting Taeyong’s suddenly sincere eyes. “Good for you. I really couldn’t believe that you got into that stuff with Johnny’s crowd anyways.” Mark only shrugs in response. He’d long since stopped deliberating over that. This is his life now. “Still doing music?”
“In name, yeah, I’m still a music major. But I don’t have time to play.” The last time he touched his guitar was this morning when he had kicked it. The last time before that… he doesn’t know if he can’t remember due to a marijuana induced haze or if it’s because it really has been that long.
Taeyong continues. “You know, you don’t have to do this stuff. You’re a talented guy, you’re strong. If you could dedicate yourself to your music like you do to dealing, you wouldn’t need to deal.”
This brings about a sigh from Mark. Who is Taeyong to tell him what to do, anyways? Last time he checked, he was the customer, not Mark. “You all make it sound so easy.”
“Trust me. You can do it.”
—THE FIRST KISS
The first time Mark kisses you, it’s cold outside.
He’s walking you back to your sharehouse, down the streets of town, when he asks, “Be honest with me and tell me if that date sucked.”
It’s been a couple weeks since the two of you first met that fated night at Doyoung’s party, and you’ve only now allowed him to take you out on a date. He doesn’t know that it’s your first. Well, in some ways, it’s his also.
Mark’s been on a few dates, sure, but those all ended up with him getting his dick wet in the dark parking lot of a Burger King or something. He’d normally take them out for fast food, and finish with the usual fun stuff in his back seat. This time it’s… different. Not only does he figure that you wouldn’t be down for that type of date, but something in him wants it to be different. The only problem is he doesn’t know how to plan a good date.
He still took you out to get McDonalds’, but instead of retreating to the backseat, he drove the two of you to the movie theatre. It was probably a dumb choice of him in hindsight, deciding to watch an action movie, but something about the way you hid your face into his neck when one of the characters got punched out made him smile.
“No, it wasn’t… bad,” you respond, swinging your interlaced hands. You had surprised him earlier when you had grabbed his hand upon exiting his car, curling your fingers together.
“You’re lying,” he sighs.
“No, I’m not. Really,” you reassure him as the two of you approach the door of your home. After all, how can you have a bad date when you’ve never been on a date before? You have nothing to compare it to. “I had a good time. Actually… it was my first date.”
Mark blinks, having not expected that to be so. A groan leaves his lips as his free hand comes up to run through his hair. “Oh god, and I ruined it.”
“No, no, it was perfect. I wouldn’t change it for anything.” You smile a sickeningly sweet, charming smile at him, and he sighs. You’re too good for a guy like him.
He’s beyond surprised actually—even though you know of his habits, his hobby of wasting time and rolling joints, you haven’t run away like others. And he likes you. A lot. Even though everything tells him that what he does is bad for you, he still wants you. You’re a comfortable presence in his life.
“You know,” you suddenly start. Mark looks up, intrigued. “I’ve never kissed anyone before.”
He wonders if the surprise on his face is painfully evident. “Really? Like, ever?”
His question is met with a shake of your head, and he blinks. So you’ve never drank or smoked. That, he can believe. But the fact that you’ve never kissed anyone? Sometimes… you shock him with your boldness. Like earlier when you grabbed his hand and at your first meeting when you had asked for his phone number before he could. But in some moments like now, he realizes just how the duality of your personality comes into play.
“Why’s that?”
You shrug. “I don’t know, it never really felt right,” you explain as the two of you approach your doorstep. As he escorts you up the steps and to your front door, he furrows his brows deeper. Why were you telling him this?
“Does it feel right, now?” He asks softy, gaze flickering to your interlaced hands as he turns to face you. His hand reaches forward, cupping your cheek, the touch soft despite the callused skin of his hands.
“Yes,” you respond gently, simpering smile on your roseate tiers.
The smile on your face is sweet and pure, two words that Mark isn’t.
A flood of relief shows on Mark’s face, and you bite down on your lower lip as excitement bubbles in your stomach. “Can I kiss you?” A response quickly follows. For some reason he can’t quite figure out, you let him into the maze that is you. Despite the leather jacket, his messy hair, and the lingering smell of weed on his clothes, you want him just as much as he wants you. Even though you both know that he isn’t the type of guy that you normally like, the type of guy that your mother would approve of, you trust him. It’s bewildering to him.
Then he guides you to him. Within seconds his lips are on yours, and you melt into him. It’s surely not Mark’s first kiss but it feels like it. The initial awkwardness, then the heat on his cheeks as you both fall into a rhythm. It feels right, like it was meant to be, just as Mark had hoped.
You’re like the kind of irreplicable drug that Mark has sought after for years. The kind that brings a euphoric high which burns his lungs and twists his stomach, but in all the right ways.
—29 HOURS CLEAN.
The smell filling the kitchen leads Lucas to scrunch his nose in distaste when he exits his room. “Dude, what the hell is that smell?”
His answer lies in the pan on the stove and Mark standing in the kitchen, wielding a wooden spoon. Clad in only basketball shorts, he looks absolutely foreign to the environment. Lucas sighs. “Please tell me you’re not boiling crack right here in our kitchen.”
The face the Korean makes is scandalized. “What—no, what the fuck? It’s mapo tofu. I’d be insane to try and make crack cocaine.” He adds under his breath, “In the apartment.”
Lucas leans back against the counter, cocking an eyebrow. “Then why are you cooking mapo tofu of all things? I haven’t seen you eat anything but ramen and eggs probably since we moved in here. And—put on a shirt if you’re cooking, or an apron at least. You look like a caveman.”
“Well,” sounds Mark with a roll of his eyes at his friend’s expected lecturing. “I had a shirt on, but I spilled some spicy shit on it and took it off. And I,” he pauses, turning off the stove. “I thought we could eat your favorite food together before we head out to Hendery’s party. You know, as a… sorry for being a bitch yesterday apology.”
The taller man narrows his eyes, eyebrows furrowing as he tries to make sense of his best friend’s words. “So you… decided to make my favorite food because you felt bad that I had to wake you up and take care of your shit?”
“I guess, yeah.”
Lucas laughs, a deep sound, whilst shaking his head. “Dude, I’ve been doing that since middle school and you’re only apologizing now?”
Mark purses his lips, making a face of annoyance. “Better late than never.”
“I guess. But sorry, I wouldn’t want to eat your mapo tofu anyways. Smells more like my week’s laundry than food. Maybe next time just order from that Chinese place around the corner that I actually like,” advises Lucas.
A pitiful laugh leaves Mark’s lips. “Duly noted.”
“And anyways, I’m not going to Hendery’s party. I have plans.” This causes Mark to finally take a good look at his friend. He’s normally well-dressed, but tonight he looks even better, a little too fancy for the typical college frat party. Before Mark can even question what these other plans are, Lucas explains, “I have a date with—”
“Yuqi,” finishes Mark for him. “Figured.” Lucas grabs his wallet on the counter, nodding before tucking it into his pant pocket. “Is that why you haven’t been partying with us? Or why you’ve suddenly been on this, ‘Mark, sobriety is key’ rant?” Mark questions, lowering his voice to imitate that of his roommate’s. At Lucas’ silence, Mark scoffs. “Dude, your relationship is so fucked up, how many times are you guys going to try to make it work when it doesn’t?”
All that leaves Lucas is a sigh, but Mark continues. “This is what, your third breakup so far? And fourth time trying to make it work?”
“Some things are worth the effort,” replies Lucas easily, slipping on his shoes. As he reaches to tie his laces, Mark continues, “She takes up all of your time now, you haven’t hung with us in months, and all for a relationship that’s destined to fail.”
“Nothing’s destined to fail, Mark. It’s all about how hard you’re willing to work for it.” His voice is calm, but there’s something building beneath it. To this, Mark sighs, and says, “You’ve changed, man.”
Lucas grabs his keys, clearly at the limit with Mark’s prodding. “Sometimes people are worth changing for, Mark. Yuqi forgave me for what I did, and I forgave her for what she did. We’re trying, okay? We’re not walking away. I’m sure…” The taller male pauses on his words, as though contemplating them, before continuing. “I’m sure Y/N would’ve forgiven you for what you did, but you walked away. And that’s where we’re different.”
It hits him, and Mark tightens his jaw. Yes, his relationship with Y/N was destined to fail too, there was no denying it. To fight with his friend who he had just tried to make amends with, or apologize? He goes with the latter, only because he’s too exhausted for a yelling match right now. “Lucas, I’m sorry, okay? I’m a little… on edge.”
“I know. I’ve known you for years,” chuckles Lucas softly. “I know how you get.”
“Yeah. Have fun on your date, though.”
His best friend nods tightly. “Yeah, I will. But if you care about what I told you, don’t go to the party tonight. You know you won’t be able to control yourself.” Mark nods, sighing. “And throw out that mapo tofu while you’re at it. It stinks, and not in the good way mapo tofu’s supposed to smell.”
Mark rolls his eyes while Lucas’ laugh fills his ears. “Just leave already.”
With a few smooth movements he’s already slid out the apartment door. A sigh leaves him, alone in the apartment. He does as Lucas says, tossing his attempt at dinner in the trash. It’s gonna be a long night.
—THE FIRST TASTE.
The first time that you kiss Mark, however, it’s hot inside his apartment and sweat sticks the fabric of your tank top to your stomach.
That doesn’t stop you from cuddling on his couch however, and you gaze up at him from your position under his arm to watch as your boyfriend, focused on the TV, lifts his blunt to his lips and takes a long drag. Underneath his arm, you observe how his lips wrap around the circumference of it, sucking in a sharp breath before releasing it into the air. He knows that over your time together, you’ve come to accept the smoking. It’s obviously clear to him that you don’t particularly approve, but Mark’s responsible enough to control himself. Now however, as you gaze up at him, you realize just how attractive your boyfriend is. Dark hair tousled and arms bared through his tank top, he looks so, so good. Somehow, he looks even better with the cig in his hand.
You never would have thought you’d fall for such a guy like him, but you keep falling. He’s not the good guy that you dreamed of, but that’s okay, because you make him good.
“Mark?” You ask, still looking up at him.
He hums in response, turning to look at you.
Your voice is soft as you ask, “Do you believe in destiny?”
Your boyfriend blinks at the sudden question. “Define destiny.”
“That like, we all have a predetermined fate. That everything happens for a reason, and every challenge is just a small piece in a bigger puzzle. That we all have soulmates we’re destined to be with.” Mark’s lips purse, pouting just the slightest in thought, a habit of his.
Does he?
It’s a question, because he used to. He used to be a good old Christian boy, of course he believed that God had a plan for everyone. Every tribulation was just something that would make him stronger in the end. Unfortunately, the last time Mark can remember being at church, he fucked one of the choir girls in the Bible study room.
He can’t really pinpoint when he stopped believing in fate. God? Yeah, sure he still believes in him, though the big guy upstairs will probably send him south for his irrefutable sins. But fate? Not really. If fate was real then it was really messed up to make him such a failure.
But, he realizes, gazing at the strands of hair matted to your forehead as a result of the hot summer weather, and the pure adulation in your eyes as you gaze up to him, that perhaps because of you, his destiny isn’t too bad. Sure, he’s a fuck up with addictions and demons, but he does pretty well by keeping you happy. Because you make him happy. A smooth, suave smile spreads across his lips like butter. “I didn’t before, but I do now.”
Your eyebrow perks up. “Now you do? Why’s that?”
His arm wrapped lazily around your shoulders allows him to pull your face close. With the same smile, he presses a number of kisses to your cheek (much to your sweet protest, complaining about his sweat and smoke). As though he attempts to mask his words against your skin, he mumbles, “Because I found you.”
Mark has never told you that he loves you; it’s a bit too intimate for him, who’s never been vulnerable in that way, and you, whose every first is him.
But he doesn’t have to say it, because you know it.
Your lips break out into a flustered smile, though you try to hide it from him. His quiet, unsaid confession fills you with glee and more importantly, confidence.
“Babe,” you tell him. This grabs his attention, because you rarely use such sweet nicknames. He attempts to respond, but you’re already sitting up and swinging yourself over to straddle his lap. Your movement brings about confusion on his features, and you take a deep breath. This isn’t the first time you’ve been in this position with him, but the first time you’ve made the initiative to do it yourself. Mark was always leading you. So you lean forward, placing your hands on his shoulders, and you kiss him.
You can probably taste the smoke on your tongue, but you’ve grown accustomed to that. Mark kisses back and grips your waist with his free hand, both shocked and amused by your sudden courage. Everything feels right, it’s like it’s destiny. He’s about to slip his tongue into your mouth but you break the connection, choosing instead to linger your lips over his. Your breath is hot on his as you finally speak.
“I want a puff.”
“Are you sure?” He looks up at you, nearly breathless at the sight of you atop him. Lip gloss smeared from your heated kiss, you look delectable. Your wide eyes, once depicting innocence, are now focused and curious. He knows you don’t necessarily approve of his habits, but here you are, sitting on top of him looking irresistible and asking for a taste.
“Yes,” you confirm, as though reassuring yourself. Mark had always liked you, been attracted to you because of the notion that you were innocent, pure, bright. Everything he was not. He had never wanted to taint you, yet his confession still hangs in the air.
But as he lifts his blunt to his mouth, taking a long drag before blowing the diluted smoke into your waiting cavern, he starts to worry that this would be the beginning of a long downward spiral which would place no blame anywhere but on him.
—44 HOURS CLEAN.
The withdrawal forces him from his sleep at 5AM.
Mark wakes in a cold sweat, itching for a fix. That’s when he realizes how deep he really is.
Shit.
His fingers are shaking, so he moves to occupy them with the only thing he can think of. He drags himself out of bed, grabs his guitar, and makes his way out to the living room. Plopping himself down on the floor next to a window, he attempts to refamiliarize himself with the strings that he had abandoned. Lucas is still asleep, so he plucks quietly.
He has long since forgotten what it was like to lose himself in the sound.
There was once a time when he was passionate for something other than haze. It was music. The first time he touched a guitar, magic sprung through his fingers and he knew: he was made for this. Somehow, majoring in music composition and being forced to take so many theory and history classes had caused his passion to simmer. Now, it slowly burns again.
He doesn’t realize how the hours pass and the sun begins to shine between the blinds.
His mind brushes over what Taeyong had told him two days ago. Is this what he had been missing all this time? All the hours he spent blinded by a foggy smoked haze, had he been neglecting his own love for music? It’s amazing what he can accomplish when he takes a break from that life.
He starts to feel like the old Mark again.
For a second, he stops strumming and directs his gaze to outside the window. There’s not much to see except the college town, with the glimpse of the university itself just atop the hill, but he stares and relishes in the sight of the sunlight casting a glow over the town.
A knock on the door interrupts his deliberations.
A glance to the clock tells him it’s barely 9AM. Who would be here so early? There are two options, he decides as he stands from the floor to stretch his legs, resting his guitar on the wall. It’s either Yuqi, Lucas’ renowned off-again on-again girlfriend, or Johnny coming to deliver the week’s set.
When he opens the door, the visitor’s face is blocked by a box, but he knows those shoes. Those white ballet flats with purple bows were always your favorite.
Suddenly the box lowers and Mark is finally face to face with you, his ex-girlfriend. He hasn’t seen your face in the months since you’ve called it quits, even though he’s spent countless moments just staring at the leftover pictures on his phone. You look surprised to see him.
“Oh—Mark. Lucas said you probably wouldn’t be awake.” So you had been keeping in touch with Lucas? This is news to him. Had his best friend been sharing that he had been basically wasting away the past few months without you?
“Couldn’t sleep,” explains Mark almost sheepishly, running a hand through his hair. For a moment he’s glad he had the mind to put on a shirt before coming outside.
“Oh…” You trail, your gaze traveling down to the box absentmindedly.
He doesn’t mean to be rude, but the surprise at seeing you on his doorstep makes him a bit gruff. You’re still the same as before: same face, same shoes, same bright eyes. But there’s something about you, about your aura that’s different. More mature. More independent. Because you don’t need him anymore. “What are you doing here?”
If you’re taken aback by his coarseness, you don’t show it. “I brought a box of your stuff. It’s just... stuff that was left at my house.” You gesture to the box in your hands, and Mark is quick to take it from your arms. He prays you don’t take note of the way his hands shake.
Slowly he places it on the floor next to the door and when he stands again, you’re leaning back and forth on your heels looking rather awkward. He doesn’t ask for an explanation but you give one anyways. You had always had a habit of talking too much when you felt nervous. “I’ve had it since...” Your breakup, but neither of you want to say it. “I put it together a couple months ago but put off bringing it over. But I figured, uh, the school year’s over in a couple weeks so I should just do it. I texted Lucas, he said he’d be awake to grab it but..”
“He’s still asleep,” Mark completes for you.
“Yeah,” you say simply. No longer having a box to occupy your hands, you hold them behind your back which only furthers the idea that you’re uncomfortable in his presence. It makes him sad almost, how much things have changed.
He thinks back to what Lucas had told him at the start of the weekend. Maybe it was possible to change things back to the way they used to be. “Do you want to come inside? I have some coffee, or some—”
You look at him with blinking eyes. “I don’t dr—”
“I know.” He knows you don’t drink coffee. Of course he does. “I have tea. It’s even peppermint, your favorite.”
“You drink peppermint tea?” You look at him, incredulous.
“I don’t. It’s leftover from when I bought it for you. I just... haven’t thrown it out yet.”
That’s what your love had done to him: turned him from a brooding boy into a softened man, so much that he was willing to keep your favorite drink around just in case you’d ever come back and want it.
“Oh,” you sound. Your teeth bite down gently on your bottom lip, gnawing it in contemplation as you look away from him momentarily. When you look back, he can see you’ve made your decision. “I don’t think it’s a good idea, Mark. I’m sorry.”
He expected it, but it doesn’t sting any less. “That’s okay. I understand.” An attempt at a smile is displayed on his face, but it doesn’t reflect any of the radiance in the smile that you mirror back at him. It’s small, the tips of your lips barely lifting, but it’s enough to remind him that you are indeed all that is good in the world, and he needs you. He loves you.
Maybe he can’t love you right now but one day, he’ll be good enough to deserve you. That day isn’t today, but it’ll come eventually. “I’ll see you around,” you say to him.
“I hope so,” is his response.
You give him another small smile before turning to leave. “I hope you’re doing okay, Mark.”
He is, or he’s trying to. When you leave, he closes the door and returns the box to his bedroom before opening it up. Inside, numerous hoodies gifted to you because they became too small for him but were still huge on you. Old songbooks from his high school days that he no longer needed. A teddy bear he had gifted you on your first anniversary.
Pushing the box aside, he grabs a notebook and his music theory textbook. Maybe it actually would do him some good to study.
—THE FIRST TEAR.
“What the hell, Mark?”
You don’t curse often, so when you do, it wakes him. When you find him in his room, he’s knocked out with his body half on the bed and the other half slung over the edge. His hair sticks out in numerous fluffy tufts over his pillow, but you can still smell the weed off of him.
“He only came back like, three hours ago.” He hears Lucas’ voice selling him out, and he groans into the pillow, only lifting his head to grumble at his roommate.
“Snitch bitch,” he says, his voice groggy and scratched.
“Don’t get mad at him,” you suddenly speak up. “At least he answered my calls when I was calling, worried where you were because you hadn’t texted me since,” you stop to check your phone. “5PM last night!”
“I told you, I was going to Johnny’s party,” responds Mark, sitting up in his bed, head still spinning. Rubbing his eyes, he sits up, looking rather disheveled and hungover.
“Yeah, and you never texted me to let me know you were home. How would I have known if you had overdosed, or passed out drunk, or got in a car accident? Or just died?” As your voice rises, reaching a volume you’ve rarely ever employed, you clear your throat to calm yourself and turn to Lucas. “Thanks, Lucas. I appreciate it.”
“Any time,” he responds, giving a nod before walking away, likely disappearing into his room.
When you turn back to gaze into Mark’s room, he’s slipped on a shirt. “What the hell were you doing out so late? 9AM is when you should be waking up, Mark, not falling asleep. Finals are next week, you were supposed to meet me at the library an hour ago!”
He makes an annoyed expression at your chastising, and you gaze at him with expectant eyes, awaiting an explanation. All he does is grimace and say, “Babe, can you like, quiet down? I’m hungover, your voice is too loud.”
Your jaw drops.
For a moment you stay like that, until you continue speaking, words coming out faster than Mark can understand them. “I’m just trying to help, Mark. You’ve partied more than you’ve studied this year, and I’m not going to let you just get away with it. Almost every weekend I have to stay up worrying about you, wondering when you’ll get home, unable to sleep until you text me that you’re home and okay.”
“Maybe you should stop worrying then,” he retorts.
“Maybe stop giving me reasons to worry?”
He rolls his eyes, laying back in his bed. “Maybe you should come with me then.”
You quickly reply, “Maybe you should stop partying.”
“Maybe you should stop trying to control me,” he finally spits.
Once again, you’re rendered speechless. And when you turn your head away, focusing your gaze to the hallway instead of at him, Mark thinks he’s won. But then you sniff, an indication that your sensitive heart has once again been touched with tears. “Please,” you finally say, voice weak. This is the timbre Mark is used to hearing from you, not the tone you had used earlier when yelling at him. In this moment, he’s not sure which one he hates more. “Please stop this.”
In a swift movement you reach forward, gathering yourself on your knees before his bed. You grab his hand, pressing your lips to it as a tear makes its way down your cheek. “Please, please, please… please stop the drugs, Mark. It’s made you this… this terrible person and I know you’re not like this.” Suddenly, you’re crying into the palm of his hand while he gazes at you in surprise. “Missing dates, staying out late, yelling, I know that’s not you.”
“Y/N—”
“Please, just call Johnny and tell him you can’t do this anymore. Tell him you’re done. Please, for me.”
Your begging causes Mark’s jaw to tighten subconsciously. What you’re hoping for is a better Mark, a different person. He’s not that person that you want him to be, he can never be that way. This is how he is and how he’ll always be. This is his fate, to be a lowlife drug dealer barely passing college, and if you can’t handle it then—“You know I can’t do that. You promised you’d be here through everything, all the good and the bad.”
“That doesn’t mean I’m going to let you destroy yourself like this, Mark.”
He rips his hand from your grasp, causing a slight squeak of surprise to leave your lips. It’s almost as if he’s not in control of himself, because he blows up. “Can’t you just be like a good girlfriend and love me through the bad shit? I’m trying my best here.”
But is he really? Suddenly, as though empowered by some kind of intangible strength, you rise to your feet, the sadness in your eyes now quickly replaced by anger. “I do love you, that’s why I’m acting like this, you asshole!” You wipe your tears furiously with the back of your hand before glowering down at him. “But if you can’t keep your mind sober long enough to see that then call me when you can.”
He registers the sound of the bedroom door slamming shut, causing it to ring in his ears. Within the blink of an eye, you’re gone. Fate is a really messed up bitch for this.
—1 WEEK CLEAN.
It’s been a week.
A week since the last time he touched anything, though he had been tempted when Yuta invited him over for some sativa. The drinking and partying isn’t hard to let go of. It’s the weed, because it got him through the hardest days.
A week in, and he’s pretty proud of himself.
Nowadays, he tries to occupy his shaking hands with guitar or studying but he’s started playing so often that his hands are now raw and in pain. Today, because the weather’s nice outside and his fingers hurt like hell, he decides to take a walk.
It’s aimless at first, just exploring the streets around his apartment on foot. But then ten, fifteen, thirty minutes pass, and without knowing it, he’s arrived at his destination. Johnny’s place. Standing in front of the door, eyes boring into the bright red paint of the front door, Mark feels himself start to slip. No, he decides, he has to do this. This is the right thing.
A shaky knock on the door is followed by another stronger one. He waits a minute before trying again, yet as his hand lifts to place another knock on it, it slides open to reveal Johnny himself in casual wear. “Hey,” greets Johnny, giving Mark a nod. “What’s up? I told you I’d drop the next batch off at your place, you didn’t have to come out here.”
At Johnny’s question, Mark feels his breath caught in his throat. Not only is the guy taller than him and towering over him in every aspect, but he could definitely throw Mark under the bus for his own crimes. But no… he wouldn’t do that, right? He had done enough for Johnny over the past three years that he would let him off easily, surely? A gulp is heard in Mark’s throat as he straightens his position in front of Johnny.
“That’s the thing. I… I don’t want to do this anymore.”
For a moment, Mark thinks that the taller man will be angry. Johnny stands before him, eyebrows furrowed. “Why?”
“I just need to.”
Johnny immediately starts to argue, tilting his head. “You know you’re my best seller, though. No one sells as much as you, and I trust you with all the big deliveries. Who am I supposed to give the heroin to now… Ten? As if, Mark.” He scoffs, shaking his head.
“I…” Mark starts, though he stops. “I need to stop. I’ll finish the batch from this week, I promise. I only have like, two deliveries left but I just, it’s not healthy for me. And it’s not because I’m planning to sell you out or anything, or find someone else but I just can’t do this anymore.” He finds himself ranting, finding more interest in anything but Johnny’s face. “I’m not happy, I’m angry and anxious all the time, and being around the drugs only makes me want to do it more, and I just… I just can’t, John.”
When he finishes his unfiltered rant, he looks back to the taller male and tries to read his expression. Will he be angry? If his earlier debate was anything, he definitely wouldn’t let Mark off without a fight.
But instead, the older nods. “I get it. Just finish your deliveries for this week and call it done.”
Mark blinks at Johnny’s easy acquiescence. “T-That’s it? You’re not going to fight more?”
“You want me to?” Johnny asks, cocking an eyebrow that’s almost mocking.
“No, but I…”
“Thought you’d be worth the fight?”
“No, that’s not it.” Mark shakes his head. “I just…”
“Mark,” sighs Johnny, standing straight from where he had been leaning rather casually against the doorframe. “I’m not stupid, okay? I know that drug dealing is hard for you. And I’m also not oblivious, I know that you and your girlfriend broke up, okay? Yuta told me what happened with the coke, and I wasn’t surprised when you refused to sell it anymore.”
Mark frowns even deeper at the mention of it, but Johnny continues. “I’m not going to force you to do something you don’t want to do. If you say it’s not good for you, then it’s not good for you.”
“But…” Mark starts, but doesn’t find the words to continue. It was… that easy. “Okay. Uh, thanks, I guess. For everything?”
“Sure. Just don’t come crawling back when you can’t make rent on your McDonalds’ salary. Male strippers make pretty good money, if you’re interested.” It’s clear Johnny’s joking, so Mark rolls his eyes and laughs, though the sound is somewhat tight.
“I’d love to talk to you some more about ways to get a hustle going, but I have to go find a new dealer, and teach Ten how to stop giving weed to everyone he meets because he thinks they need a pick-me-up.” Johnny sighs, as though the life of a drug dealer is the most difficult of them all, which in Mark’s experience, it might just be.
“Alright. Uh, later, John.”
Johnny nods in acknowledgement before shutting the door. Mark breaths out a heavy breath.
That went… surprisingly well. Maybe Lucas was right, maybe it really was this easy all this time. Perhaps he had always just been the one believing that it was difficult, because he had made it so. He had been stressing over it all this time, but Johnny was more easygoing about it than he’d thought.
As he walks the path home, he thinks he deserves a reward for his endeavors. It’s a bit selfish maybe, but he opens his phone, and you’re on his speed dial.
“Hello?” You ask, voice bright as always but clearly a bit guarded from the name that had flashed across your screen.
“Y/N,” Mark breathes out. It’s only been a few days since you had swung by the apartment.
“Hey, uh… what’s up?”
He doesn’t quite know either. He had quite honestly been a bit impulsive in pressing on your contact, and now that you truly rest across the phone from him, he has no idea what his purpose was. “Um, nothing much, I just wanted to tell you…” A soft breath leaves his lips. Will you be happy for him? “I told Johnny that I quit, that I’m done.”
There’s a momentary pause on the line, and Mark begins to worry that you’ve hung up when you finally breathe out, “That’s good, Mark. I’m… I’m proud of you.”
Proud. He had only been hoping for a “good for you,” at most, but to hear that you’re proud of him, it makes him smile to the ground as he walks the trail back to his apartment. Fuck, you’ve made him weak. “Thanks.”
“I guess you really are doing well then,” you say.
When he gets home, riding the high of his successes from standing up to Johnny to calling you, he flushes his Xanax pills down the toilet and watches as they swirl away into oblivion, as if they had never existed in his life in the first place.
—THE FIRST CRASH.
Mark connects his lips to your neck and suckles on it softly, drawing a moan out of you. The sound you make goes straight to his dick, and he releases a breathy groan against your skin. “Fuck, you sound so pretty, princess.”
Princess—that’s the name he’s given you, because all he wants to do is treat you right. And he does, especially in times like these, where you feel the heat of his body on top of yours and he devours your moans in his mouth.
He currently lays between your spread legs, your combined figure lost in his bed sheets as he softly grinds his hardened core against yours. He’s still got his jeans on while you’re laying only clad in your panties, yet the feel of the denim is enough to have you moaning. You tilt your head back as a light mewl leaves your lips, your body subconsciously grinding down on his.
It had been complete heaven for the both of you when you had given him your virginity, your purity, at the beginning of this year, and since then you have been basically insatiable. You had never felt such desire for anyone before him. Now as his hands rub small circles over your clothed clit, you want him once more.
You’re shaking your head, so needy for him but he doesn’t relent, only smirking more while he continues rubbing sinful circles on your clit. “Tell me what you want.” He wants to hear your beg.
Voice soft and breathy, you say, “Please, Mark, I—”
The doorbell rings. It’s heard through the apartment and Mark groans, rolling his eyes while attempting to keep you going. “Keep going. It’s probably just Lucas forgetting his key again.”
Though the mood was momentarily killed, you both try to fall back into place. Now his fingers have left your clit, instead pulling your panties down to your midthigh. “Shit, you’re soaking,” he moans out in amazement, running a finger through your wet folds. As much as he wants to dive in and fuck you until you’re cumming all over his cock, he needs to hear your sweet voice dripping dirty words for him first. Easily, he slides a finger in, to which you groan at the stretch. But it’s not enough.
“Don’t tease me, please.”
He smirks, slowly sliding his singular digit out of your sensitive core whilst he thumbs your clit. “Go on then, princess. Tell me what you need.”
“Fuck,” you curse and he finds it so hot. “I… I want you to—”
The doorbell again. This time, Mark audibly curses. “Fucking hell,” he sighs, removing his fingers from where you need him. Instead, he moves up and places a sweet kiss on your lips. “I’ll be right back.”
He’s still fully dressed, so he simply opens the door and slips outside before closing it again behind him. As he’s walking down the hall, the doorbell rings once again, causing him to roll his eyes. God, how many times was Lucas going to lose his keys?
The person at the door, however, isn’t his roommate. It’s Johnny, holding a black gym bag. Mark already knows what it is. He runs a hand through his hair, already crazy from how you had been running your hands through it. “Hey, John,” he says, taking the bag clearly in a rush. It’s Sunday, which means Johnny’s dropping off Mark’s deliveries for the week.
“Hey, man,” greets Johnny, handing over the list. Mark doesn’t even bother to check that everything’s there, so the older man raises an eyebrow. “Busy?” He asks, eyeing Mark’s disheveled clothes and the fresh hickey on his collarbone.
“Kind of.”
“Nice. See you next week,” says Johnny with a click of his tongue and a wink, then Mark closes the door and he’s gone. Now, back to what’s important. He slings the strap over his shoulder and makes his way back to his bedroom. As soon as he enters, you look up at him with wide, anticipating eyes.
You’ve pulled your undergarments back on, much to his displeasure. Mark drops the dark bag on the floor in the corner, and your eyes find it. “Johnny came?”
“Yeah. Just dropping off for the week,” replies Mark, his mind not exactly on it as he takes off his shirt, tossing it somewhere. He moves back over your figure on the bed, lips on the curve of your breast fully intending to return things to the intensity they were at just earlier.
Though his lips trail up to meet yours and his hands begin tugging your panties back down, he can tell from the way you’re kissing him that you’re not fully there. So when you moan his name, he knows it’s not out of pleasure. “Mark,” you say softly against his lips.
“Hmm,” he responds, callused hands gripping your thighs and leading them open. He’s about to slip his hand inside your panties, but your hand stops him.
“Can I have some?” When he looks at you, your eyes are not focused on him, but the bag in the corner. Your eyes are faded, clouded as your both ascend to a place of pleasure. You… wanted drugs? Sure, he’s blown a few times in your mouth but in your relationship spanning over a year already, you’ve never directly asked for any.
His dark eyebrows furrow. “Are you sure?”
You bite down on your lip. “What’s in it?”
“I don’t know,” reveals Mark truthfully as he gets off of you and makes his way over to the package, picking it up and placing it on the bed. You’re sitting up now, peering over the bag with interest as he unzips the gym bag open. Though the exterior looks unsuspicious, the bag opens up to reveal bags of white powder and green kush.
Cocaine.
It’s dangerous. Mark gazes down at it, biting down on his lip.
“Is that… cocaine?” You ask, not unaware of the extreme drug sitting in your boyfriend’s room.
He nods, almost ashamed. “Yeah.”
A silence falls over the two of you, both just staring at the white bags. It’s almost unbearable, how much Mark wants to throw the bag away and just resume your activities, but you’re still gazing into the bag with contemplation, fear, and even… curiosity.
“So, can I have some?” You ask again.
Mark sputters for a second, blinking. “Babe. I—are you sure?”
You nod, eyes dark and curious. “Yeah.” At your confirmation, sounding like it was more to assure yourself than him, Mark stares holes into the white substance. It’s filling the bag to the brim—surely whoever he has to deliver it to won’t notice a line’s worth missing.
So it’s with steady yet hesitant hands that he pulls a pack from the bag, directing you. “Grab your credit card,” he says, walking over to his nightstand. Unzipping the bag just the slightest, he pours out a small amount. Just a little bit, he swears.
When you return to his side with your said card in your hand, he takes it from you and lines up the coke on the table. In a neat little line, it’s set up for you. “Okay,” he starts, looking at you. “Just hold down one nostril and—”
“I know how to do it. I’ve seen it at parties.” You interrupt him as you kneel, finally head level with the nightstand. It’s true; the few parties you have attended alongside your boyfriend, there’s more than enough depictions. He watches with interest as you lean forward, holding one side of your nose closed, and snort up the entire line in one go.
First, you cough into the nightstand. When you turn and look at him, you’re wiping the remaining white dust from your nose. “You okay?” Your boyfriend asks you, to which you nod. “It takes a few minutes to work.”
Again, you nod silently, sitting down on the bed and gesturing Mark to come to you. When he approaches, you lay back in his bed, looking up at him with lustful eyes. “Now, hurry up and fuck me.”
The words are so rare from you. It’s all he needs to hear, unbuckling his belt and dragging his jeans to the floor in two swift movements. Within moments he’s back on top of you, feeling your heat once again. He starts slow, pressing kisses to your stomach, breasts, and neck while waiting for the drug to take effect. He knows the exact moment that it begins to work; your pupils immediately dilate, and suddenly you’re a loose, moaning mess underneath him.
Your muscles relaxed, Mark immediately presses a long kiss to your swollen lips while dragging down your panties. He would usually opt for more foreplay, but he’s waited long enough. He pulls away for the shortest moment to slip on a condom, but before you know it he’s already flush against you again.
It feels so good, even just his touch on you. You’re so sensitive, senses heightened by the drug that you feel everything: his large hands on your breasts over your tips, his lips marking your neck. When he leads his dick to your dripping entrance, you watch in anticipation, though you’re shaking.
As he finally slides in, finally filling you up, you tilt your head back and let out a loud moan, the loudest yet. It just feels so good, you feel so full, and he’s so, so deep.
Everything is…. so good. Euphoria creeps into your headspace.
He pulls out, and you moan again. “Ah,” you gasp sharply, feeling every ridge, every muscle stretched as he slides out, only the tip inside you. Then he slams back in, causing your back to arch and your toes to curl. “Oh, fuck,” you moan out again, eyes closed tightly, lost in the pleasure.
Mark’s hand grips at your hips, eyebrows furrowed in focus as he falls into a rhythm. He would have taken some himself, but he wanted to watch you fall apart under him. Suddenly you grab at his free hand, and he intertwines your fingers. You’re squeezing him, his hand and his dick altogether, so tightly as you’re lost in your pleasure.
“Fuck, princess, you feel so good,” he moans out, closing his eyes. He immediately opens them again, not wanting to miss a second of you. “You love my cock, huh?”
Breathless, you nod without words.
“And to think, just a year ago you were an innocent little prude. Now look at you, taking my cock like the slut you are. High on my drugs, fuck—” Mark taunts, moaning aloud as you suddenly clench around him. “Fuck, you feel so tight.”
When he adds his hands to your clit, rubbing the nub in circles the way he knows you love it, the pleasure is heightened for your sensitive body. Your temperature rises, your heartbeat uncontrollable—all the telltale signs of that euphoric high.
A few minutes pass like this, you completely out of it and moaning at the top of your lungs whilst your boyfriend fades in and out of your vision. You grasp onto his arm, tilting your head back. “Mark, I’m���I’m gonna—”
“Do it,” he musters out, never stopping his hips. “Cum for me. Cum all over my cock like the good girl you are.”
And you do, losing it as you tighten around his length, walls clenching repeatedly. This brings him over the edge, cumming into the condom with a shaky breath. He keeps the rhythm going for both your sakes, though his thrusts go erratic as he comes down.
You do the same, your thirty minutes of elation coming to an end soon. As soon as you’ve come down from your orgasmic high, you immediately relax. Your breathing is labored as you relax into his sheets.
Mark pulls from you with a low groan. By the time he’s tossed the condom off into the trash and returned to his bed, you’re already asleep, chest rising softly. A post-cocaine high can do that to you. A soft chuckle leaves his lips as he slides into bed with you, slipping a hand over your waist.
With the way your body fits right into his, one could say you were made for each other. In Mark’s mind, maybe you were.
—3 WEEKS, 6 DAYS CLEAN
His hands shake as he curls the wrapping paper, giving it a soft lick to secure it.
Tomorrow will be four weeks, a whole month since the last time he had done anything. He had passed his exams. After he had thrown the pills away, he was sure that everything would be smooth sailing. But he was wrong.
He’s disappointed in himself, he is. He wanted to be better, but it’s harder than it seems. Lucas would be disappointed in him. You would be too.
Luckily, neither will find out.
Right now he’s tucked in his bedroom away from Lucas with the excuse that he was napping, but he’s not. Instead, he’s wrapping a joint with the leftover weed tucked in his nightstand.
It’s not because he wants to, or because he’s being peer pressured by anyone around him. It’s for one person only—his dad.
On this day, five years ago, Pastor Lee passed away.
The first three years, the hardest ones, he had Lucas. The past two years, he had you.
No—the first three years weren’t hardest to face, this one is. He still has Lucas, but not really. Had he swallowed his pride, had he just told his best friend that he wasn’t okay when he had asked about his father’s death anniversary, things would have been okay. Lucas would have nodded in sympathy, then dropped everything he had to be there for Mark. They’d chill and drink a couple beers—no, not drink, not anymore—but maybe watch a movie and play some games until the day had passed. That would have been bearable.
But that hadn’t happened.
When Lucas had asked Mark how he felt about the day, Mark had lied and blubbered out a, “Oh, was that today? I totally forgot.” Why had he done that? He doesn’t know.
Because he had had too much pride to admit to his friend that he was struggling… Now he’s here, trying to take care of his pain in the only way he has left.
He lights it, fingers still shaking, and his body relaxes into the mattress as he finally gets a taste of the clouded, sinful smoke once more. The only downfall to this is that he knows, oh he knows well, just how much pain that it causes for him and those around him.
—THE FIRST BURN.
Over the years, Mark has grown accustomed to the warmth.
It’s what you do to him, what he associates you with. Your first kiss, despite the cold winter air, warmed his soul from the inside. Whenever he looks at you… there’s a feeling of espousement that explodes within his chest. Yes, he loves you, even if he doesn’t say it often. He doesn’t need to. You know. You’ve opened his eyes to the beauty of love, the exhilaration of showing yourself to someone and being fully accepted. In his life once frozen over with the loss of his father and the death of his innocence, you showed him warmth.
When he wakes, you’re burning up.
More than you should, even with the two of you naked beneath his blankets. You’re sweating, he realizes as he slides his hand, which he had slung around your waist as the two of you drifted into dreamland, over your skin.
You must be hot underneath the blanket, so he starts to slide it off the blanket from your figures. Then he hears it: you cough, the choked sound coming out scratched and labored. Though you’re turned away from him, he can hear the struggle in it. It’s as if… there’s something blocking your throat.
His eyes immediately widen, adrenaline spiking as he sits up, grabs your shoulders, and turns you around. No, no, it can’t be. Where you had been laying, facing the wall, there’s remnants of your vomit, though some had gotten lodged in your throat.
Fuck, fuck, fuck. His fingers grab your wrist. You’re still breathing. You’ve still got a pulse, but it’s fast, too fast. So fast, he can barely count it. “Shit,” he curses. You’re overdosing. You’ve overdosed. Fuck.
It’s the cocaine.
“Y/N,” he calls, voice already loud enough to make the house burst into flames with the amount of desperation he puts into it. Shaking your shoulders, he tries again. “Y/N, baby, fuck—wake up!” When you don’t come to, he turns his head over his shoulder, screaming, “Lucas!”
It’s only the early morning, will he be awake? “Lucas!”
“Mark…?” Your voice draws him out from his panic, and he turns to you with wide eyes. Your eyes, pupils dilated and shaky, fly all over the room. “W-What’s—” You don’t finish, because immediately you’re flinging yourself over the side of his bed and throwing up the remainder of what’s in your throat out on his bedroom floor.
The door slams open. Lucas’ worried face appears. Mark is trembling, breath shaking, and you’re still vomiting over the carpet. At the moment, Mark doesn’t care that the both of you are naked in his bed. “What the hell happened?”
Mark feels himself start to slip away, only a moment from hyperventilating, but he speaks. “Hospital… cocaine—overdose, I—”
“I’ll go start the car.” Lucas is immediately out the door, loud steps running down the hallway to grab his keys. At least somebody is in a stable state of mind. Mark starts to move, standing to dress the two of you, but you grab his arm as he steps out, perhaps using the last of your energy. Your eyes are wild, your mouth parted as you heave heavy, labored breaths.
“I… I can’t breathe—Mark, I can’t,” you start between hurried breaths, but don’t finish. Immediately you go slack, falling back in his bed with closed eyes rolled into the back of your head.
“Fuck,” he curses, immediately throwing on his jeans and sliding your dress over your sweltering body. Though he’s stumbling and racing to gather things, his phone, his wallet, and your’s, he picks you up into his arms bridal style, racing out of his bedroom into the living room.
Flying out the front door, the cold morning air greets him in an unpleasant fashion, only making your perspiring body seem even warmer, reminding him of his faults. Lucas is already sitting in the front seat, ready to go, but Mark throws the two of you in the backseat. At this point you’re completely gone to the world, head thrown back against the cushion as he struggles to put on your seatbelt. It seems like an arbitrary precaution in this case.
As Lucas starts to drive, moving as fast as he can possibly go, Mark clutches your hand. “Baby,” he finally breaths out as reality begins to set in. This is his fault, he did this to you. He doesn’t deserve to hold your hand, so instead he lets go, placing it in your lap before leaning forward to place his head in his hands.
“Oh my fucking god,” he finally lets out, exasperated.
—1 WEEK, 2 DAYS CLEAN
“My name is Hyunjoon, and I am addicted to alcohol. It has been… six weeks since my last drink.”
Mark bounces his leg erratically, glancing around the room. There’s some people he knows, recalling their faces on campus or around town, but some people he's never seen in his life. He’s supposed to reveal himself to these people? He doesn’t belong here.
Or maybe he does. After his last breakdown, it had taken him three days to fess up to Lucas. His friend, though disappointed, was more than understanding. “It’s a long road,” he had told Mark at the time. He said that he knew of an addiction support group in town, and encouraged Mark to attend. He’s right; Mark knows he can’t do this alone.
“Glad to see you’ve gone another week, Hyunjoon. Happy to see you back.”
He’s next, so he stands. “Um,” he starts, rubbing his nape and feeling awfully out of place. “I’m Mark, and I’m addicted to…” he sighs. “A lot of things.”
The kind looking leader of the meeting offers him a smile. “You can share if you’d like.”
He takes a deep breath. There’s so many people, so many eyes. “Mostly weed. I drink a lot, or I used to. I… I was trying to stop everything then I had a—” How to describe it? “Relapse, last week. I don’t think I can do this alone.”
“We commend you for your courage, Mark.” There’s a soft round of applause in the circle. The smiling leader then continues, “We ask everyone who is new to this group, ‘why.’ Why do you want to stop your addiction? Why do you seek help? Besides the obvious reasons that it’s bad for you.”
This question doesn’t take long for him to answer. “I hurt someone. Someone that I really loved, and honestly… I hate myself for it. So I have to stop.”
There seems to be a couple of nods around the circle as Mark sits back down. He releases a breath he hadn’t known he’d been holding. This will work. Things will be okay. He will get better. He will get you back.
“Thank you for that, Mark. Welcome.”
—THE FIRST REGRET.
Mark finds himself in the same position he had been in earlier in the car, except this time he’s sitting on the floor right outside your room on the hospital floor, hiding his head in his hands. What is wrong with him?
What had he done to you? What had he allowed you to do to yourself?
God, he’s fucked up.
Lucas is inside with you. He had wanted to be there when you woke up, but he couldn’t. He could barely look at his face in the hospital bathroom mirrors; how was he supposed to face you, IVs hooked up to your arms as a result of the drugs that he gave you? It was supposed to be fine, it was just a little bit! It was supposed to help the experience you two were having. But instead, it almost ended your life.
He looks back now. Just two years ago, when you had first met, you didn’t even drink. You’d never been kissed, never been touched. Now he’s… done this to you. He’s despicable. You don’t deserve him. You deserve better.
The door opens, and Mark finally pulls his head up to see Lucas step out with a somber expression. It’s a stark juxtaposition that saddens him, for Lucas is so often the light hearted joking one of the two. “She wants to see you.”
Mark parts his lips, shaky breath exhaling. “I can’t.”
Lucas takes a seat next to him on the floor, sighing. He probably looks crazy, shirtless and puffy eyed on the floor, but his best friend moves next to him anyways. “I know. She’s not angry, you know.”
“That’s the worst part,” mumbles Mark, staring out at the bleak white walls of the hospital in front of them. He doesn’t say much, but Lucas understands him it seems.
“Something’s gotta change, Mark. Something’s gotta give.”
He knows, with a soft nod of his head. Of course, he knows what Lucas means, but what it means to him is different. He has to give something up, and it’s going to be you. Not because he can live without you or because he doesn’t love you, but because it needs to be you. You can’t be around him any longer. You’ll only continue to be hurt.
When this thought finally occurs, and he accepts it, it becomes a little easier to face you.
He rises to his feet. “I’ll… I’ll see you later,” he finally says, twisting the doorknob to your room open.
—1 MONTH, 4 DAYS CLEAN
He doesn’t know why you asked to see him for lunch, but he does know that you look good. You look healthy, you look better than you did that day when he slipped into your hospital room and saw you there, laying lifeless and gray. But that day, you still smiled when you saw him.
You look rather happy, like you’re doing okay without him, though he hopes that’s not that case—no, that’s not a good thing to hope for. He hopes that you’re doing okay, but that you’ll be even happier when you’re together again. Again, you smile at him over your food. Even after all this time, you still look at him like he’s the center of your universe.
Though you had made small talk about your lives, what you were both doing, how your mom is, how Lucas is, and other unimportant things, it’s at the end of the meal when your voice finally sobers, though you keep a smile on your lips.
“I’m sure you’re wondering why I brought you out here.”
“I…” Mark starts, blinking, before nodding. “Yeah.”
You laugh, causing the slightest smile to break out across his lips. It’s still the same laugh you had, that fated night when you met. “I just wanted to see you again. And talk. We haven’t talked in a while.”
Mark’s smile turns into a bittersweet simper. “I thought that was because you didn’t want to talk.” Though you had spoken to him on that phone that one day, he had chalked that up to you being polite when he suddenly called.
“Well, at first, yeah, but you know it’s been almost a year since we broke up and… I had some things I wanted to tell you.” Him too, but he’s not entirely sure he’s at his best just yet. Nevertheless, he smiles and nods.
“I’m listening. You know I always am.”
You take a moment or two to simply stare at him with thoughtful eyes as you think over your words. All the while, your sweet smile never leaves your roseate tiers. Finally, hands folded over your lap, you start.
“Thank you.”
Mark blinks, but you continue. “I know that we didn’t end off on the best terms but I wanted to make sure you knew that I was thankful for you. For having you. You’ve done a lot for me. You’ve taught me a lot, and I can’t thank you more for everything you’ve done.”
You blink repeatedly, eyes fluttering before you continue, which leads Mark to think that these words might be just as emotional for you as they are for him. “Thank you for teaching me love. Because of you, I’ve grown a lot and become a better version of myself. A stronger one. I’m really thankful that you were my first everything: my first real date—” His mind flies back to that night. That movie really was a horrible movie.
“My first kiss.” Does it feel right, now? Yes. Can I kiss you? Yes.
“My first time.” It was awkward, but it felt, as it always did, right.
“Thank you, for being the first guy I loved. I really… really loved you, Mark. But most of all,” you say, gazing at his wordless figure with those eyes of yours. They’re not as innocent and naive as they used to be. They’re matured now, hardened, but still, the sparkle is there. The same sparkle that had attracted him that night, three years ago, with that damned white dress.
“I forgive you.” Mark releases a shaky breath. “For everything. I don’t want you to blame yourself anymore. It’s not your fault, really. I’m better now, I’m healthy. Please, don’t hurt yourself anymore because of me.”
“Y/N, I—”
“I met you in my first year here. We’re going to be seniors, Mark. We’re going to graduate and be thrown into the real world, where there’s real consequences. I don’t want the consequences of what happened to weigh you down. I just want to move on, and you deserve to move on too.” From the glint in your eye, it’s clear how long you’ve pondered over these words.
He wants to reach out to you, to grasp you and bring you back to him. Because he’s trying to let go of the past so that he can focus on loving you fully as you are.
Sure, you can forgive him, but he needs to forgive himself first. He’s not quite fully well yet. He has to be patient.
A soft exhale leaves his lips. “Thank you. For forgiving me.”
Yet another sweet, beautiful smile spreads across your lips. It’s the smile that haunts Mark’s dreams. “You’re welcome. And thank you again for everything.” As the waitress appears, returning Mark’s credit card that he had graciously used to pay for the meal, you stand with your bag.
No, you can’t be leaving just yet. “Stay in touch, okay, Mark?”
But he has to let you leave. The day will come when it’s right. “Yeah,” he manages, swallowing the lump in his throat. Yet as he watches you walk away, he can feel that that string of fate he had always believed tied the two of you together slowly wearing, twisting, breaking.
—THE FINAL TEAR.
“What do you mean we should break up?”
Your voice is scandalized, angry. Mark simply keeps his gaze to the living room floor, eyebrows furrowed in complete unhappiness. He never wanted it to end like this, but he’s run horrible with thoughts that the things he did brought pain to you. It’s time to end it. Not because he wants to, but because he should.
“We just should,” he responds bleakly. “After what happened, I think it’s clear that we’re not good for each other.”
It’s been a month now since you’ve been discharged from the hospital. After you had convinced your doctor that you weren’t addicted to drugs and in need of rehab, you had gone home. Mark had luckily had enough saved to pay off your hospital bills; neither of you wanted your parents knowing. “Mark, it’s okay. I told you it’s okay!”
“No, it’s not. It’s not just because of the overdose. Things have been like this for a while now.”
You attempt to grab his hand. If he allows himself to bask in just one moment of your kindness, he’ll give in. You beg, “Mark, please, hang on for me, for us. I promise things will get better, things can change.”
He snaps, pulling his hand from your’s. Your eyes widen up at him, shocked and appalled at his sudden movement. “No! Can’t you see? You didn’t even take that much. I took more coke in my first snort than you took in that entire line. The overdose shouldn’t have even happened, but look, it did. This is wrong.”
“What, the drugs? I’ve been telling you that. Please, we can get better. We can find help.” The fact that you’re still pleading him with kind, gentle eyes, makes this all worse. It only further proves that you’re good. He’s not.
“No, not the drugs. Us.”
“Us?”
He runs a hand through his dark hair, shaking his head in frustration. “We’re not right for each other. This isn’t working.”
“What do you mean? Tell me why.”
“We’re just not… destined to be together. What happened, it was God’s way of telling us that this is not right. We’re not right for each other,” he explains, voice exasperated as he tries his best to explain the mess of his thoughts.
This seems to take you aback, your voice finally rising. “Oh, so now you care what God thinks?”
No, not really. But sometimes he has to listen. He doesn’t respond, so you continue. “I’ve been more than willing to make this work for two years, Mark. You think any of this was easy for me? My first boyfriend and he’s a freaking drug dealer for God’s sake. I tried to take it all because I loved you! I took care of you when you were hungover, I waited around shady areas at night so that you could drop off deals, I stuck with you for everything. Fuck,” you shout, causing Mark to tense. You rarely curse, and based on your usage of it now, he knows just how upset you are. “I even overdosed and I’m still here. Yet it’s always you pushing me away, making it difficult. Why are you running away from us?”
He’s not running away. “I’m not running away,” he declares. “I’m letting you run away.”
“And what makes you think I need to run away from you?”
“Because! You heard yourself, don’t deserve those things. You should have someone to take care of you when you’re sick, not always be the one fixing me when I’m sick. You should have someone to walk with you through the shady areas. That’s not me. I’m not… right for you.” He finally spits it out, eyebrows tightened together as he releases the thoughts that have been on his mind for a month now.
You’re silent for a moment, taking in his words with your arms crossed over your chest. When you speak, your voice has returned to its normal speaking volume. “You told me that you believed in fate, that you believed in us. Is this fate? Fate that we met, and fell in love, and broke up? Is it fate that you hurt me over and over again and I came back, every single time? Because if that’s fate…” A single tear falls from your eyes, though you wipe it away so it’s as if it never even existed. It seems even you have some pride now, not to cry in front of him. “It seems like your idea of fate is pretty messed up.”
Mark takes a large breath, looking away to gather his thoughts before looking back to you. You’ve both come so far since that night, the image of her clouded by the purple lights, the energy of the party. Now, all that glamour is stripped away. It’s just you and him, as you are. “You had to meet someone like me, so you can know what you deserve.”
“So that’s it? You’re just going to call it quits, and blame it on destiny?” Your tone is mocking, questioning his reasons and probably his sanity.
“I’m not calling it quits,” he immediately retorts, responding sharp and quick. “I’m letting you go.”
“No,” you say as you approach him. “You’re giving up. On us, on everything we worked hard to build. Our trust, our relationship, everything.” Your finger digs into his chest, pointing an accusing blame. “I broke up with you,” you emphasize. “Not the other way around. I broke up with you because you tugged me around, you pushed me away, and you never listened to me. I got tired of it, and broke up with you.”
With that, you pull away from him, though when he finally comes to realize the weight of the conversation you just had, he sees you grabbing your bag and slipping your white ballet flats with purple bows on. “Y/N.”
He wants to say he’s sorry, because it wasn’t supposed to be like this. He hadn’t planned for the conversation to go up in flames.
Whenever you walked out during arguments, there was always a promise to call later, to talk when your minds were stable. But now, as you turn over your shoulder, walking out of his apartment and life, you muster a goodbye.
“Don’t call me.”
—3 MONTHS CLEAN.
“Senior year!” Lucas yells as he throws open the front door with the power of the Hulk, startling Mark who’s still unpacking some boxes of cookware in the kitchen. “It’s our time, time to shine!”
A soft laugh leaves Mark as he places some cups in the cupboard. He and Lucas had left their apartment for two months for the summer to return to their homes, but here they are, back and ready to take on their final year. They had finished middle school and high school together, and now they’ll graduate college together. It makes Mark smile.
As he leaves the kitchen to greet his best friend in the living room, he sees that the guy has already brought in a number of his boxes. “Hey, man,” calls Mark, who leads Lucas in for a dap.
“Hey yourself, you barely talked to me this summer,” Lucas chastises playfully. “Ignoring me, I see.”
Mark laughs, shaking his head. “Not ignoring, just… working on myself.”
“Good,” responds Lucas, turning to bring in the rest of his boxes. Yes, Mark had spent the entire summer dedicating himself to the lost cause that was himself. He started working out again, got a job, and even worked on rebuilding his relationship with his mother. Things were looking up for him.
He feels ready. Lucas’ voice interrupts his thoughts. “Hey, wanna take a break and get some food?”
His question meets a raised eyebrow from Mark. “You just got here, like, two minutes ago.”
“And?”
A laugh leaves Mark’s lips, and he shakes his head. “Nothing. But, uh, I can’t. I was going to go… see Y/N.”
“Oh?” asks Lucas, leaning down to tear the tape on one of the dark cardboard boxes filled to the brim, probably with Lucas’ pillows; the man was like a giant baby, sleeping with ten pillows. “You called her and asked to meet up?”
“No,” responds Mark, who follows these words with a deep breath. “I’m going to go see her.”
Lucas stands straight once more, his playful expression from earlier now serious. He shoots Mark a soft smile, patting him on the shoulder. “Nice. I’m happy for you. Are you leaving now?”
“Uh, yeah, I was planning to go after I put all the kitchen stuff away.”
Lucas’ grin grows even wider, stretching from ear to ear as he gives Mark a little pat on the bum, which is supposed to be encouraging. “Well, then go get her, tiger! Good luck, man,” he yells supportively as he pushes Mark out the door.
As he shuts the door, Mark blinks. “Dude! I don’t even have shoes on! Or my car keys,” he laughs, banging on the door.
Some time later, Mark finds himself hesitating as he parks his car a block down the street from your sharehouse, the same place he had kissed you, that many years ago. He doesn’t even know if you still live here. You had been broken up since the beginning of your junior year, who knows if you had decided to move out?
He contemplates this as he walks down the sidewalk to your place, hands in his pockets and gaze on the floor. Surely, if you’re not there, one of the girls will point him in your direction? Hopefully.
Oh, but you are there. As your home comes into view, he sees you. You’re there on the front porch, dressed in a simple white skirt and the same white ballet flats with purple bows that you can never seem to grow out of.
But you’re not alone.
There’s a man with you, though his back is turned to Mark’s view. He blinks. His steps stop completely. Surely it could be anyone right? A neighbor? A classmate?
But that’s impossible. Not because class doesn’t start for three days or because you and him met the neighbors on all sides of your house, but because you lean up on your toes, the way you always did with Mark himself, and kiss the stranger’s cheek.
It would have been easy to lie to himself, but then it’s much too clear. He realizes it then as he stares, only a few steps away from the path that would have led to your steps, the steps he took when walking you back on your first date, intertwined hands swinging between the two of you.
He’s too late. Maybe much too late.
He was a fool all this time. Thinking that he could be better for you, that he could defy fate with his free will and urge the universe into letting you be together. Lucas was wrong; life isn’t free will, neither is love.
This is his fate, there’s no use denying it.
He stands staring for a few moments, simply gazing in complete desolation at the sight before him. This is it, this is the end. He’s ready to submit to his poor fate, the internalized idea he’s housed that he’d never be able to find a love like yours ever again, but then you see him, probably because he stands out like a stain of black paint on the green canvas of your lawn.
He doesn’t hear you, but your lips form his name, “Mark?” and your eyes blink in confusion.
He doesn’t wait too long anyways, for he’s already turned on his heels back to his car. Fuck fate and its tendencies, giving hope where there will only be heartbreak.
—SOMEWHERE BETWEEN THE FIRST TEAR AND THE FIRST CRASH.
The smell of you invades his senses, but he doesn’t care. It’s one of the first nights in a long time where you’ve agreed to go to a party with him. Though other girls beg for his attention, he’s still only got his eyes on you. Your outfit tonight is much too nostalgic.
“You know,” he whispers in your ear, dancing against your backside with a hand on your waist. “You look best in white.”
“I know,” you respond, chuckling whilst dancing back against him. He had taught you how to dance a while ago, and you just keep getting better and better.
“You wore this dress on purpose, didn’t you, you little minx,” he teases, though a playful laugh leaves his throat. His words draw a knowing giggle from you, and Mark feels as though he could get drunk on the sound alone.
“Maybe,” you respond back, turning and pressing a chaste kiss to his lips. This is when Mark gets a good look at you.
It’s so easy to remember the way you first appeared to him, standing awkwardly in a corner of a party just like this. This time the lights decorating the aura of this party are not purple, but his heart is all the same. You’re wearing the same outfit now, definitely at this point to tantalize him and tease him; you loved to make fun of him after he told you that he had fallen for you because of that dress alone.
But you’re different now.
You’re brighter, taller, more mature. Now you are not just your person carrying your own thoughts, but his as well. You know him, know his thoughts and his feelings, know his worries without asking. Your smile is bigger, it reaches your eyes more now than it did that first night, a forced simper at the strange guy coming to flirt with you. You dance with more confidence, you carry with yourself a quiet strength despite your hesitant nature.
He loves you. God, he loves you. He tells you just as much.
With a hand over your hip, he pulls you close. You think he’s going to press another tipsy kiss to your lips, but he doesn’t. Instead he brushes his lips to your ear and he whispers, so softly you would have missed it if you hadn’t been purposely filtering the party’s music to focus on his voice: “I love you.”
You blink, and stop your dancing. It’s the first time he’s ever said this to you.
“Mark…” you start, lips parting in surprise, but he’s pulled away to smile sweetly at you. It’s not flirtatious, the kind of smile he gives you before attempting to pull you in the bathroom for a quick one. Nor is it the knowing grin he shoots before guiltily asking you to go refill his drink. It’s a small one that barely touches the tips of his lips, and the look alone makes your heart melt in espousement. “I… I love you too.”
You had told him, of course, the other month when you had tore him apart in his bedroom after finding him hungover. But this time it’s real, and in the future you both will choose to remember this as the first time.
Some might think that it’s unorthodox to confess such strong feelings such as love in the middle of a party, sweltering with the heat of dancing bodies and the musky smoke in the air. But for the two of you, it doesn’t matter. It’s just you two in here; you only see each other.
—3 MONTHS CLEAN, ONE HOUR LATER.
Mark’s currently in his room, completely bare except for his bed and desk, sulking away. When he had returned home with a bitter lilt in his steps, Lucas didn’t need any explanation, stepping out to “meet Yuqi.”
Of course, it had been Lucas who had put him in this place of thinking he could get you back but in the end, it was only himself that he had to blame. He never had the chance, it was his fault for thinking he ever did.
He’s learned his lesson.
It’s only an hour later when Lucas knocks on the door again. Fuck, Mark thinks inwardly while rolling his eyes. It’s only the first day back, has this giant managed to lose his keys, again? He makes his way out to the door, already preparing to give Lucas hell for being so irresponsible, but Lucas never makes his appearance at the door.
“Y/N.”
“Mark, I’m sorry, but—”
“No, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have shown up at your place uninvited.” He’s quick to interrupt you, shaking his head. It’s easy to pretend to be strong; he just needs to maintain a strong front until he shuts the door again.
“It’s not that, I—”
“I won’t do it again, I promise. I know you said you wanted to move on and I shouldn’t be surprised, it just hurts to see it, and so, I’ll—”
“Mark—”
“I hope that you’re very happy, and that he can make you happier than I di—”
“That’s my brother, you daft idiot!” You finally cut him off, voice rising to a volume louder than his. He had flinched at your sudden peak in volume. You give him a pointed look, and when he doesn’t dare speak again, you continue. “That’s my brother, Mark. He helps me move in every year, you know that!”
That’s true, he does know that. And he’s met your brother many, many times. Shit, he realizes.
“... Oh.”
“Mark Lee, you think I could move on from you that quickly? It’s been like, two months!” You scold him, as if the idea is preposterous.
“Well,” he reasons. “Technically we broke up a year ago.”
You seem to have the energy to argue back. “Okay, but I only really let you go when school ended this year.”
The two of you stare at each other for a long moment following your words, before you both start to laugh. You crack first, trying to remain serious when all you want to do is envelope him in a hug, for how could you ever love anyone else? You can’t even imagine trying to date anyone right now. He follows right after, shoulders relaxing as you start to chuckle.
“We look insane right now, you know,” he says, sighing as his chortle comes to an end.
“Yeah, and I’m insane because I drove like a madwoman chasing after my ex because he saw me with my brother,” you say with a pointed tone, to which Mark sighs.
“Okay, in my defense, I saw him from behind, and you are awfully touchy with your brother!” He starts, when you begin to laugh again, pure amusement breaking out across your visage. Wow, just five minutes ago he had been regretting all his life decisions, yet here he was with you again, making conversations like you had years ago in your relationship.
When the laughter dies down, the two of you are left staring at each other, and reality sets in. Yeah, he had run away when he saw you with your brother of all people, and you had chased after him, your ex. Where does that place you?
Mark speaks first, breaking the short silence. “I’m sober now, you know. I haven’t done anything, anything at all, in three months now.”
Surprise seems to claim your face at the revelation, and he’s not sure if he should feel proud that he managed to shock you with his success or saddened that it seems to be that much of a surprise. “Oh?” Your surprised expression is replaced with a smile. “I’m proud.”
He nods, unsure what to say next, but luckily you add on, “What made you decide to stop?” You’re undoubtedly reminiscing on all the times you had begged him to give it up, to which he would stubbornly resist.
“You.”
Your features contort into an incredulous expression. “Me.”
“Really,” Mark urges. “I…” he pauses, preparing himself for the words about to leave him. He had long pondered over this moment, wondering if it would truly happen. “I lost you, and I know that I said it was because we weren’t meant to be together but somewhere along the line I realized, I can live without weed, and parties, and alcohol but I can’t live without you.”
“Mark…” You start, lips parted as you grow silent.
“No, please, let me finish, I don’t want to take all the credit because it was Lucas who had to come and knock some sense into me and make me see: sure, fate can be real and that soulmate shit might be real too because I believe you’re mine, but I know that everything is a choice, including love.” His mention of Lucas has you smiling, and he has no doubt Lucas has talked to you recently, attempting to be the middleman once more. “I love you, there’s no doubt about that, I love you more than I love partying, my friends, or anything. And if I love you that much, there’s nothing that can keep me from you.”
He grasps at your hands, and thankfully, you don’t pull away. “Not God, not fate, not anybody. Only me. I was the only thing keeping us apart. I want to be with you, I want to make things better, and I promise… I promise I’ll do everything in my power to be the best for you.” Mark takes a deep breath, taking a moment to glance down at his hands holding yours before looking back to your eyes. “I can’t promise that I won’t have relapses. But I promise that as long as you’re there for me, I will be there for you. I’ll walk you through the shady areas, I won’t run away.”
“Mark—”
“I don’t know if my words will be enough for you to take me back but I swear to you on my entire being that I will be here—”
“Geez, Mark does sobriety make you extremely prone to interrupting, or what?” You butt in, but you laugh, looking up at him with sparkling eyes. Whether it’s you natural shine or tears building in your eyes, neither of you know. “Don’t even go there, or explain anymore. Of course I’ll take you back, you idiot. You think I would chase after you like that if I didn’t think about running back to you every day?”
This causes him to laugh. “I’m glad you didn’t. I wasn’t ready. I was waiting until I was good enough to run to you.”
“You ran away earlier,” you point out teasingly, and he rolls his eyes, pulling you close over the threshold of his apartment.
“That was the last time.”
Your hands find his chest, resting upon the expanse of it as you look up at him with a cheeky smile. “Better be, mister.”
“Oh,” he muses, as you wrap your fingers around the fabric of his shirt and all feels right again. “You’re bold.”
“A year apart does that to you,” you smile, still a hint of shyness on your lips as you finally tug him in, kissing him. You melt into him and his hands immediately find themselves on your hips, just where they belong.
Oh yes, there it is again, that feeling of euphoria. You’re the only drug, the only high he needs.
#NCT-WRITERS#mark lee angst#mark lee smut#mark smut#mark lee x reader#mark lee fanfic#nct angst#tw: smut#tw: drugs#tw: drinking
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Invisible Chapter 3
Summary: YN YLN has always been third in Class 2-5, right behind Lee Su Ho and Kang Soo Jin but with both of them having left Saebom Highschool, this is her time to shine. That is until Han Seosangnim asks her to tutor Han Seo Jun. A guy who doesn’t even know she existed.
Ship: Han Seo Jun x Female Reader.
Word Count: 3072 (I really can't write short chapters. Sorry I guess😂🤷🏽♀️😭)
Likes, comments and reblogs are appreciated with any reactions or whatever you want to say. Again I really don't know where I am going with this.
True Beauty Masterlist.
Chapter 2.
Chapter 3:
Just when the bell rang, you stood up packing your things to go meet up with Hae Sung. As you were leaving Hyun Ji stopped you at the door.
“Hey YN, are you going to the shop, we can go together,” She asked you, smiling and linking arms with you, ready to drag you with her. You smiled at her, shaking your head at her big smile and unlinked your arms.
“Sorry, Ji I’m going to meet up with Hae Sung,” You tell her, looking sad, you didn’t want to ditch her, but you’d already told Hae Sung you’d meet him. You knew he would give you hell if you went with Hyun Ji first and then met up with him. For being a low maintenance guy. Hae Sung could be a real dickhead when he thought you were ditching him or ignoring him.
Hyun Ji sighed, but nodded her head and walked away to Soo Ah’s desk to ask her to join on the shop run instead. As you walk to Class 2-4, you see different people you know wave and smile at you. A few Freshman come up to you and asked about when the Book Club’s meeting is, you tell them and walk into Class 2-4.
Hae Sung smiles as he sees you, before you can even say hi to Cho Rong who had gotten up from his seat to come, talk to you, Hae Sung was dragging you out of the classroom. To the hallway of an unused classroom that your older sister told you about.
Since the hallway was full of unused classrooms, no one really walked past there, unless they were taking a short cut but not many people even knew, that this hallway was a shortcut, to begin with. It had unofficially become your hang out spot with Hae Sung.
He stopped and turned to look at you. You looked at his hand still holding your wrist. He looked sorry and then let go of your wrist. Hae Sung didn’t hurt you by holding your wrist too tight, but you had never liked his habit of dragging you, to places by holding onto your wrist. You sighed before looking at him and motioned for him to start the rant you knew you were in for. There was no way, he wasn’t going to get on your case about what he saw this morning with Seo Jun.
“So, your just gonna tutor Han Seo Jun, after this morning I shouldn’t even bother trying to convince you to change your mind should I YN. Let’s just forget the horrible reputation Han Seo Jun has and how that will affect your reputation too yeah” Hae Sung said, he was talking so quickly, you almost thought he was rapping.
You wanted to laugh at the image of Hae Sung being a rapper but refrained from even showing a smile. While you couldn’t hide your expressions from Han Seo Jun for some reason. You had years of experience in keeping a poker face in front of Hae Sung.
“Calm down Lee Hae Sung, since when have I ever cared about my reputation that I should start caring about it now. Also, you really need to stop judging people, you being so judgemental is why your class doesn’t like inviting you on outings. Yeah you shouldn’t bother because I’ll still be his tutor even if you don't want me to Hae Sung.” You told him calmly, leaning back on the wall. You made sure to keep your face neutral, not giving away what you were thinking.
Hae Sung glared at you, from the look he was giving you. His temper was rising. That was not a good sign, he was going to say something to hurtful. Something that he knows will crush you, it was his sure fire way to win an argument. You hated it when he said hurtful things to you in anger, so to just avoid the confrontation and how he’d hurt you with his words.
You just gave in and did whatever it was he wanted, let him win the argument. It was a tried and tested move, to get you to give in and do what he wanted.
“I don’t want to be friends with everyone in my class, like you do YN. Nor do I care for their opinions of me. You’re the people pleaser and yet, the idiots in your class barely even know or acknowledge your existence.” He moved closer to you and almost pushed you into the wall. Trying to intimidate you with his height. Though he didn’t need to do that, his words were enough, yet he didn’t stop there. He carried on.
“They could care less about you, yet you still try so hard to be included but you never will be YN. They do not care about you and tutoring Han Seo Jun isn’t going to change that, yeah he’s the most popular guy in your class, but nothing will change. You were invisible to them and will carry on being invisible to them no matter what”. He finished, leaning back from you and crossing his arms.
With a look that dared you to challenge anything he had said. But you couldn’t do that. It was all true, he didn’t lie about anything he said. Yet hearing it all being said in such a malicious way and having it thrown in your face was horrible.
You started blinking your eyes and looked up. You were not going to let Hae Sung see you cry after what he had just said. This was a whole new level of hurtful. Over the years, Hae Sung had said a good many mean things to you, but never to this extent and you just didn’t know how to reply to him. All you wanted to do was sit on the floor and cry but that wasn’t an option right now.
Realising that you weren’t going to reply, Hae Sung’s smug expression drops. He looked at you trying to hold back tears, crap that is not what he thought would happen. Normally when he got mean, you would just give and that would be the end of it. After that you were back to normal, this however was not that. He had never made you cry; he was your shoulder to cry on.
He opened his mouth to say something, but you just shook your head. You didn’t want to hear it, Nothing he could say would make it better. You looked at him, really studied him. You knew he felt bad for what he’d just said but that didn’t matter. Right now, you couldn’t bare to look at him and you just wanted to cry alone in peace. So, you walked away from Hae Sung, left him standing there in that deserted hallway. He watched you go feeling like this was the start of the end. This was the first time you had walked away from him, without a reply, without giving in to his demands. You never left him hanging but there he was, watching you walking away.
You went to the bathroom that was near the end of this corridor. The toilet didn’t work, so no one ever used it. That worked out in your favour, you didn’t need to use the toilet, but you definitely did want to cry alone without anyone checking up on you and asking questions.
Unbeknownst to you and Hae Sung. There were people in the corridor with you, Lim Ju Kyung and Choi Soo Ah watched you walk away in shock. They couldn’t believe what they had heard. In general, from what Soo Ah knew of your friendship with Lee Sae Hung, she didn’t like him.
It was well known that most people in Class 2-5 didn’t like Lee Sae Hung, the reason for that was because of the way he treated you. They saw how he treated you and they all hated it. Yet you were always so ready to defend him, you were always smiling and laughing while you defended him. Therefore, your classmates didn’t say anything, just let you deal with Hae Sung.
Ju Kyung wanted to go and slap Hae Sung. How dare he say that to you. What gave him the right to say that to you. What gave him the right to assume about Class 2-5. As far as she knew, everyone loved you. You were quiet but got along with everyone. There was a reason Han Ssaem trusted you enough to ask you about what happened in the class whenever teachers weren’t there because you were trusted by everyone.
By her knowledge and what everyone had told her, whenever you didn’t come to class activities was because you had plans with Hae Sung. If anything, it was his fault whenever class outings happened, and you couldn’t come.
The girls watched in silence as Hae Sung growled and almost punched the wall in anger then walked away. They moved out of their hiding spot and looked at each other.
“We have to tell everyone else, YN probably won’t be leaving the bathroom any time soon, we should go and tell everyone before she comes back” Ju Kyung said to Soo Ah, who nodded her head and then took out her phone.
“I’m texting Hyun Ji, to get YN’s favourite snacks from the Shop, that might cheer her up and wont be weird, Hyun Ji occasionally gets YN snacks and drinks for no real reason and of course were telling everyone. We’ve got to prove Hae Sung wrong, Class 2-5 loves YN and she most definitely is not invisible to us” Soo Ah told Ju Kyung who nodded her head and then they started to walk to their class.
As they passed the bathroom, they could hear YN crying but knew that if they went in. YN would fake a smile and bury the hurt rather than letting it all out.
You heard the bell go and sighed, coming out of the stall you had been crying in, you saw your bloodshot puffy eyes. It looked obvious that you had been crying, you washed your face and tapped your cheeks lightly. Trying to make it less noticeable that you’d just spend the last 10 minutes crying.
Not that anything really helped but you didn’t really have many options in what to do. Times like these you wished you carried around a little make up bag like Ju Kyung did, that would’ve been helpful but oh well, just have to be careful to not let anyone really look at your face.
You speedily walked to your class with your head down. So that no one would interact with you and ran to the door when you saw your teacher leaving the Teachers room on your way. Making it just in time to slip in from the back. The teacher was setting up their papers and thankfully didn’t notice that you hadn’t been in your seat when they looked up at you in the front row.
As you took out your book for this period, you saw the snacks and drink on your table. You turned to Hyun Ji, she smiled at you and a thumbs up, you nodded your head and smiled at her, it was the little things that could cheer you up and Hyun Ji, getting you snacks and a drink was one of those things.
Before you knew it, the day had ended. As you packed your things, you felt a shadow over you. You looked up to see Seo Jun standing by your desk waiting for you. As much as you wished to not have to tutor him today, you knew he wouldn’t let you out of it without a reason and telling him that you’d had an argument with Hae Sung would only make the whole mess bigger and that was not something you wanted to be in the middle of or even deal with right now.
Seo Jun smirked as you stood up and took your bag from you. You opened your mouth to protest, but he just gave you his death glare and promptly you closed your mouth. He motioned for you to lead the way and so you two started walking to the school library.
You walked in silence, with Seo Jun nodding at people he knew while you just kept you head down, like before not wanting to really talk to anyone. The silence was comfortable, you didn’t feel the need to fill it with small talk. Your inability to make small talk would make it awkward and after this horrendous day, you more than happy to just walk to the library in your thoughts.
Seo Jun watched as you walked slightly ahead of him. He knew what had happened with Hae Sung. When Soo Ah and Ju Kyung told everyone, the whole class was ready to go and beat the hell out of Lee Hae Sung. Even though he didn’t consider you a friend before, he definitely did now, and it felt weird not seeing you smiling all the time. He had only really known you for a few days but he missed your smile. It was weird, he felt like he should do something to make you smile. He didn’t know what, but he didn’t like seeing you sad, especially over that idiot Lee Hae Sung. That guy did not deserve your friendship and most definitely didn’t deserve your tears.
You reached the library, went and sat down at a table. Seo Jun passed you, your bag and sat down next to you. You looked at him shocked, you didn’t think he would sit next to you. You thought he would sit opposite you, there were enough seats that he could do that. Seo Jun smirked at your shocked expression, you’re reactions to the things he did were really adorably cute.
Clearing your throat, you took out your workbooks and started to give them to Seo Jun. Who looked at you in shock, you were really taking this tutoring thing seriously. With the number of workbooks you’d taken out and given to him.
“These are all new, Omma managed to get a deal with these and so bought all of them when they were on sale last year. I asked around in class if anyone wanted them but no one wanted them so they are all yours” You smiled at Seo Jun as you went to take out your own things from your bag.
“So, you’re giving me. Your leftover things, workbooks no one else wanted. Wow, I’m getting the best treatment from you aren’t I” Seo Jun joked with you as he flipped through the workbooks, they were good quality and were up to date with the curriculum, from a trusted brand, they would not have come cheap.
“What?!, No, that’s not what is happening, these are the best things to help you study, so I thought it would be a good idea to give them to you…” You saw Seo Jun trying to hide his laughter behind his hand and you realised that he was joking. You glared at him and he just laughed and held his hands up in defeat, you rolled your eyes and told him to get started on the first book and ask if he had any questions.
The two of you worked mainly in silence, there were the odd questions asked and you did your best to answer as thoroughly as you could, making sure Seo Jun understood before moving on. There was a rhythm in how well you worked together. For all you thought this would be a disaster, it was going surprisingly well. Before you knew it, the librarian was coming over to tell you that the library was closing, you looked outside, and it was starting to turn dark.
Both you and Seo Jun shard a look of astonishment. Never did Seo Jun expect that he would enjoy being tutored by you. So much that he wouldn’t even notice the time. This was much more fun than he thought, you were more than you seemed, and he had been wrong to judge you purely on the fact that Lee Sae Hung was your best friend.
As you walked out of school, you saw Sae Hung waiting by the gates. You knew Seo Jun saw him as well because immediately, Seo Jun put his arm around your shoulders and walked confidently towards Hae Sung. You looked at Seo Jun in shock, you didn’t know what he was thinking but the dark expression on his face didn’t make you feel any better.
“YN, let's talk, I said some shitty things and I wanna make it up to you” Hae Sung pleaded as soon as you got close to him. You didn’t want to talk, so tried your best to move away from him. Which only lead to Seo Jun bringing you closer to his body.
“Clearly she doesn’t want to talk to you Lee Hae Sung, leave her alone before I punch you, I don’t even need a reason to punch that ugly face of yours but just say another word to her and I will,” Seo Jun said, walking away from Hae Sung who seemed in shock that you hadn’t said anything to defend him.
Normally you would’ve said something, but you were still hurt from the words Hae Sung said to you before and you didn’t have it in you to defend him from Seo Jun. Especially when you wouldn’t mind it, if Seo Jun punched Hae Sung, it was the least he deserved after what he had said to you today.
For the second time that day, Hae Sung watched you walk away from him. This time with Han Seo Jun and he could see how comfortable you were with Han Seo Jun’s arm around you.
You barely knew the guy yet, you hadn’t made him remove his arm but walked together happily, with Han Seo Jun saying something that made you laugh loudly. To anyone else, you both would look like a young couple.
Hae Sung knew he would have to deal with Han Seo Jun from now on since you were not going to give up on tutoring him but before that, he needed to make amends with you before Han Seo Jun became a bigger part of your life than he was becoming.
Chapter 4
#true beauty#true beauty tvn#true beauty fanfic#han seojun fanfic#han seojun x reader#han seojun x you#invisible chapter 3#invisible ch 3#lim jukyung#han seojoon x reader#han seojoon x you#kim chorong#lee suho#My Writing#Zainab's Writing#my fanfiction#hwang in yeop#moon ga young#cha eun woo
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nxt 2 u
Characters: Seo Changbin x Reader (Y/N)
Genre: Enemies to Lovers | Fluff
Prompt: Are you flirting or starting a fight?
A/N:
Credits to the owner of the gif.
I am thanking ✨@chans-starlight✨ for showing me this gif. Boo, this one is for you. 👻
This is not related to NXT 2 U by 3RACHA but listen to it for good life.
Lately, Seo Changbin has been too much for you to handle. He’s doing things that makes your heart beat faster, in a good or bad way, you don’t know. What you know is he’s playing with your heart.
And that’s exactly what he’s doing, as he look at the paper in front of him, arms crossed. You just finished presenting your proposal for the school festival. It’s not your job but they asked for an idea and you happened to have one. You are sure this will bring money for the donation.
The other student councils gave you a round of applause. Agreeing that your proposal will indeed raise money, no questions. Yet Changbin’s face tells otherwise. He sigh deeply and you ready yourself for anything he’ll throw at you.
Knowing that Changbin will definitely play the devil’s advocate, you prepared answers to his possible questions. You won’t back down easily. You’ve been preparing this for two weeks. You won’t accept a no for this proposal.
You look at him, face void of emotion, patiently waiting for what he’ll say.
“This isn’t right,” Changbin insisted, eyebrow raising, pointing at the files in front of him before directing his gaze at you.
Really? All of the student council agreed that this is already the best they have ever heard.
You want to remain emotionless but as your heart pounded hard against your chest, it makes it harder for you. You also raised your eyebrow, mirroring his face. You sit down in front of him, running your hands through your hair.
Thank God. You are on the other side of the table cause you’ll swoop his ass.
He looks at you directly while crossing his arms again as you hold his gaze. You lean back in your chair, “Tell me what isn’t right in my proposal,” you ordered, raising your eyebrow at him while crossing your arms too.
Changbin doesn’t know if he finds it cute or irritating that you are copying his actions. He knows you’ll never back down in a challenge. He knows it and he’s using it against you.
“What if no one in your list agreed to participate?” he asked you, bringing his arms down to rest on the table, clasping his hands while waiting for your rebuttal. His biceps looks bigger than before.
You are sure he’s just flexing it.
Resting your elbows against the table, putting your chin under your intertwined hands. “You’ll agree, right? Mr. President? For the good cause?” giving him a tight lipped smile.
It’s really a simple proposal, you suggested a hug booth. Since your school is full of heartthrobs called Stray Kids, you decided to use it for your school’s advantage. Why not, right? Everyone wants a hug from them and you are sure they’ll be happy to help except for one.
It took a while for Changbin to answer to you. The other students are looking back and forth between you two, enjoying the scene unfolding, waiting for one of you to start a fight.
“I don’t want to,” he smirked. Of course, he doesn’t want to. “My hugs are reserve for someone,” he added, staring at you with a knowing smile while your eyes landed on his arms.
Upon hearing it, your face became red, with embarrassment or anger, you also don’t know.
It was few a weeks ago, he just happened to be there. He saw you crying accidentally. You never even asked for it but he hug you until you stopped crying. You never even tried to get away from his arms, knowing that it’s Changbin, your arch nemesis, who’s hugging you. You never even noticed that he’s not hugging you anymore until he cleared his throat. You are so into the hug than him, you admitted, even though he’s the one who initiated it. In your defense, you felt safe in his arms that time. Unbelievable, really. That same arms are the one who’s causing you to stutter now.
“W-who,” stuttering, you coughed, clearing your throat. He’s still looking at you while your eyes lose its focus, blinking away from his arms. You sit up straight, gathering your confidence, glancing at Changbin, ”Who’s that someone?” you asked.
“You forget already?” he answered sadly, pouting at you. Of course, you know. He’s enjoying teasing the hell out of you.
This time you stand up, leaning over the table, placing both of your hands on it. A dangerous smile playing in your lips, looking at him, “Are you flirting or starting a fight?” you questioned Changbin.
He smiles as he stands up, also leaning over the table. Now, he’s the one copying your actions. He stopped when his face was inches from you, “It depends. What do you like, Y/N?” he stated, smirking then winking at you.
You scoffed as you back away from him. Straightening your uniform, “I think you are flexing too much,” you stated, giving him a smile. Getting your things from the chair as you walk away from the meeting.
You feel really embarrassed with what Changbin’s trying to pull. You need a break or else you’ll give him what he wants.
“Are you that bothered?” Changbin shouted as he saw you exiting the door.
Copyright © 2021 xonepeacelovex All rights reserved.
#stray kids#stay#skz#seo changbin#stray kids changbin#skz changbin#stray kids au#stray kids angst#stray kids fluff#stray kids scenarios#stray kids imagines#stray kids fanfics#stray kids oneshots#stray kids drabbles#stray kids series#seo changbin au#seo changbin angst#seo changbin fluff#seo changbin scenarios#seo changbin imagines#seo changbin fanfics#seo changbin oneshots#seo changbin series#seo changbon frabbles
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Surprise Visit
Summary: You are a nursing student who just survive a hell week and you missed your husband, Wonwoo who is a doctor at a hospital in another state. Why not surprise him with a visit? Definitely a surprise visit that contains a whole drama.
Genre: fluff, a bit of suggestive (?), angst (more like a verbal fight tho)
Characters: Doctor Wonwoo x Female OC
Word Count: 3052
A/N: Hi! I’m a new writer and I only write for Seventeen atm. The name is Angel or you can call me Ella. English is my second language, so hopefully explain why writing is so bad. I used to write before but I had a writing block for over 3-4 years. Recently, I’m trying to train myself to write again. So I hope that all of you could give me some feedback or might challenge me to write some stories~ All of things happen on the story are fiction and some are real life experience. Enjoy!
"Finally, the hell week is over '' Hana lay her head down on the table. It was called hell week for a reason since the students had to take their final exam while also completing their practicals at the hospital. This is the week where a lot of students stay up, cry and stress together. Hana was also one of the students that pulled an all-nighter. To make it worse, she was not feeling herself. For a positive ball of energy like her, it’s unusual for that to happen.`I'm craving drinks, man. I wanna get drunk.." Siyeon said as she sat next to Hana with her iced americano. "Should we? Hana, you wanna go out tonight?" Jinjoo looked excited as she poked Hana. "I'm tired.." Hana mumbled from her arm. "That is why we should go out.." Jinjoo pouted as she tried to persuade her best friend. Hana sits up and drinks her iced tea in a daze. "Earth down to you, Hana. Are you good?" Jinjoo squeezed her friend's hand. "It must be about your husband, is it?" Siyeon guessed correctly which made Hana pouted. She looked at her sparkling wedding band on her ring finger. Jeon Wonwoo is Hana's husband and also a neurosurgeon at Seoul University Hospital. But currently, both of them are in a long-distance relationship since they are working and studying in different states. "How did you know?" Hana questioned, making Siyeon snicker. "It is so obvious, woman.." Hana pouted as she twirls the ring on her finger. Jinjoo looked at her best friend with a beaming smile. "How about you go and visit him? You know, give him a cute surprise~" Immediately, Hana's eyes lit up at the idea. “I mean, we already started our break. It doesn’t hurt for you to spend your time with your husband,” Siyeon encouraged her friend with a smile.
Hana was preparing her luggage when her phone rang. It is Wonwoo, who face-timed her. Hana scrambled, panicked before jumping on the bed to make it look like she did nothing. "Hi, baby. How are you?" Wonwoo's deep and gentle voice soothes Hana. She could make out that Wonwoo was also having a busy day judging by the tired smile on his face. Not only that, he was still wearing his white coat and his black thin-rimmed glasses subtly covered his dark eye bags. "Survived hell week. How are you? I missed you so much.." Hana beamed at the screen. "Miss you too, honey. Well, I had a few surgeries and I am also on call tonight, which is not fun. Have you eaten yet?" Hana nodded. "I did.. Take a quick nap okay? you look so tired, babe. Take care of your health too, if you are sick, how are you gonna take care of your patient?" Hana nagged her husband. "Yes, I understand, Mrs Jeon." He giggled. "I missed you so much.." Hana spoke softly. "Come here then.." Wonwoo grinned as he stretched. "Oh, I will. Just wait~" He laughed at her cute face scrunched.
"Who did you call?" Wonwoo turned to look at his fellow surgeon, Kwon Soon Young who pushed the door open. He came in with a cup of ramen with Jihoon, tagging along behind him. "My wife.." Wonwoo stood up and took a seat near the men as Jihoon put his ramen on the table. "You are married?" Sooyoung shouted. He was so shocked. He can’t believe this cold and stoic-looking man is already married. Soonyoung’s mind is revving to spill the tea about Wonwoo’s secret marriage to Seungkwan and Seokmin, the friendly nurses that he is close with. "It's obvious. He didn’t even hide that he is married. He even has his wife's picture in his locker and on his phone lock screen.Oh, I've met her once too," Jihoon said as he slurped the noodles. "Wait, am I the only person who didn't know? Can I meet her? Please?" Wonwoo sighed at his friend's persistence.
Wonwoo was finishing his round when he approached the nurses and doctors that he’s close with. "The infamous Jeon Wonwoo. Come and join us.." Yoon Jeonghan, the pediatric doctor called him. "We are talking about going out for dinner together tonight. I know your shift is gonna end today, so join us." Another pediatric doctor, Mingyu, excitedly urged him. "Mrs Jung, do you seriously agree with these nasty boys?" Wonwoo turned and asked the oldest nurse who is like his mom in the hospital, Mrs Jung. "I can't decline if someone is gonna buy me food and drinks. Doctor Min Ah Ra and Nurse Han Seo Jin are also going, so at least there are more women added to the party." She smiled. "I mean Doctor Min Ji seems very interested in you~You both would suit each other very much" Nurse Han Seo Jin wriggled her eyebrow at Wonwoo. Wonwoo looked very uncomfortable at the mention. Doctor Ah Ra is known for her straightforwardness in work and her love life. She always goes all out. Yesterday, she even bought him and Jihoon coffee and cakes. Even before that, she would always buy him food and sit near him. It’s not like he didn’t drop hints that he is not interested but in fact, he always declined and avoided her. Somehow, she didn't get it or she was just being persistent. "Should I be upfront and tell her that I'm married?" He thought. Sensing his discomfort, Mrs Jung said "I don't think that Doctor wonwoo think Doctor Ah Ra that way." Jeonghan also jumped to save him, "I guess it's true that Wonwoo is not interested in anyone.Oh, great news! Soonyoung and Jihoon said that they are going to join us too. This is going to be more merrier!"
Hana was very happy when she arrived at his apartment. When she entered the house, she smiled. The house was very clean despite being a bit dusty. "He must be very busy.." Hana cleaned his house and even stocked his fridge with food. She can't wait for him to come back home. After doing all the chores,she texted him to ask when he is available so she could call him, in order for her to know when he is going to go home. "Sorry babe, I'm going out to eat with the team. Might be home around midnight though." He spoke softly. "Well, I miss you.." He chuckled. "If you want me to call you around midnight, sure~" Hana laughed as she snuggled in his bed. "Well, it's okay. We can talk tomorrow.." He sighed when he heard his name "sorry babe, duty calls.." She smiled. "Take care babe, love you.." He whispered. "Love you too darling". After the phone call, Hana pouted, thinking what she should do to kill some time. " Well, I should go shopping and eat great food.." She grinned as she searched for the restaurants that are popular in that area.
Not only SoonYoung and Jihoon follow them but the nurses, Seokmin and Seungkwan also joined the team. They were having bbq and enjoying the meat. "You know, I'm glad my children are older now. I can enjoy going out with you youngsters without stress." Mrs Jung laughed happily as she ate a piece of meat. "This is so good!" Seokmin sighed happily. Wonwoo nodded as he munched on his food. Doctor Ah Ra, like always, would stick near him. "Here a wrap. Says ahh..'' she tries to feed him a wrap. Wonwoo put his hand in front of him "it's okay. You should eat it.." Jeonghan and Jihoon looked at each other and sipped at their shots, at the awkward drama. Before nurse seojin can try to be a wing woman, Mrs Jung speaks out. "I guess we should play a game.. I really wanna see all of you youngsters play the game truth or dare without dare.. I'm too old for dare.." All of them laughed at her joke.
Hana grinned happily as she walked into the BBQ shop. "Hi, can I have a seat for a person.." The waitress nodded and brought her to a seat. "I'm sorry to inform you that the set comes for 2 people," she smiled at the waitress. "It's okay.., '' she grinned at the waitress. The waitress nodded at her before sitting her down at an empty table. Hana was looking around the BBQ restaurants when a group of people caught her eyes. They were laughing at one of the women's jokes. "I should invite Siyeon and Jinjoo here.." She pouted as she looked at her phone. However, the guy who sits at the edge of the table looked very familiar which made her double take. She looked up again to see the man,clearly. Lo and behold, it's her husband. She quickly ducks her head, hiding her face. "Oh no! I'm going to be caught."
"Which department doctor do you hate so much?" Jihoon asked the oldest nurse. "We all know Mr Kang Ho Jun from the cardiology department. That man is annoying!" Mr Jung huffed. All of them laugh. "Yup I can't deny it." Jeonghan sighed, taking a shot. "So now let us turn the bottle.." It landed on Doctor Ah Ra. "Who is your ideal type amongst the doctors and why?" Nurse Seojin asked her. "My ideal type is doctor wonwoo. He is tall, handsome, and great at his work..." Everyone just wooed at her responses. Wonwoo wants to focus on the game despite his annoyance but the lady at the table in front of him caught his eyes. She was ducking her head awkwardly with a menu in her hands. He narrowed his eyes at the ring on her ring finger that looked awfully familiar. Then, he saw one of the waitresses come to her table. That is when she dropped the menu to talk with the waitress. She looked very hurried."Wonwoo it's your turn." He looked at them. "Huh?" Nurse Seojin goes again. "What nickname would you give to doctor Ji A?" Wonwoo's eyes travelled back to the familiar woman at the table in front and when the waitress moved, both of him and her eyes met. "Baby!"
"Baby!" When Hana's eyes met Wonwoo, she knew she was busted. She waves awkwardly. Wonwoo spoke briefly at them before standing up and walked towards her. Before she said anything, he immediately hugged her. "Umm... Surprised..?" She giggled." When did you arrive?" He looked at her, grinning happily. "This afternoon..." He barked a laugh, "so when you called me earlier.." Hana grinned "I was on your bed.." Wonwoo shakes his head at her and leads her to his table. She looked at the people nervously. Not even wonwoo's hand behind her could soothe her nerves."Guys, this is my wife, Hana. Hana, this is my friend and colleague." She bowed to them "hello, I'm Hana, wonwoo's wife. Thank you for taking care of him while he is working at the hospital." Jeonghan waves "we met again, Hana..." Jihoon also put his hand's up, saying hi to her as they met before.
Hana sat next to Wonwoo. The woman next to him look at her with unreadable expression. "I never know you were married!" Seungkwan bellowed. "I thought everybody knows.. Mrs Jung knows too.. " wonwoo said as his hand wandered behind Hana's back. "How was your internship?" Jeonghan smiled at her. "It was great. I learned a lot at the hospital.." Hana mused. "No wonder wonwoo hides her. She is so pretty..." Soonyoung's word makes Hana hides her face to his side. “You are studying nurse, right? I hope I can work with you in the future,” Mrs Jung smiled fondly at her. “ I hope she can do her job very well then,” the woman next to her rudely. All of the people at the table looked uncomfortable at her statement. “ Oh! Since you never met us formally, this is Nurse Han Seo Jin and Doctor Ah Ra. Both of them worked in neurosurgery too,” Hana nodded in understanding and turned to Doctor Ah Ra. “It’s nice to meet you,” Doctor Ah Ra rolled her eyes and just nodded as she drinks her soju.
Doctor Ah Ra keeps drinking her soju which makes all the people at the table become very nervous. The thing about doctor Ah Ra is, she is very outspoken but she can be much worse when she’s drunk. “ How did you guys meet?” Hana looked at Doctor Ah Ra. “Oh, we were in the same school,” Doctor Ah Ra hummed. “So, you become a nurse because he is a doctor?” before Hana could retort her reason to be a nurse. “Are you stupid? You think that you can date while working if you do that?” Doctor Ah Ra snickered. Hana frowned. She doesn’t understand why this woman is attacking her. “I did not become a nurse because my husband is a doctor. I don’t get why you insinuate things, Doctor Ah Ra.” Doctor Ah Ra laughed bitterly. “I don’t get it. Why does he like you? Because you are cute? We all know cute girls are the most foxy ones. You are not even that pretty.” The others were rendered speechless by Doctor Ah Ra’s words. Hana could sense Wonwoo is heated with Doctor Ah Ra’s statement. “ Doctor Ah Ra, I think you should get home now. You drank too much..” His voice is low and serious. “ I don’t get it. Why don’t you like me back? I don’t care if you are married, you should be with me,” Hana was heated with Ah Ra’s childish words. “Are you even hearing what comes out of your mouth?” Doctor Ah Ra laughed. “Look, a lot of guys left their wife for me. It’s not my fault that they want me. Jeon Wonwoo, I don’t understand what is so attractive about her. Her look is just basic, and I doubt she is that intelligent-” The sudden bang shocked everyone. “ I don’t mind if you insult me but don’t insult my wife. You have crossed the line, Doctor Ah Ra. Excuse us, it is better for both of us to retire for the night. I’m sorry everyone,” Wonwoo stood up and gathered their things. Hana looked at the others, feeling bad for ruining their dinner. “I’m sorry for this Doctor Jeon,” Mrs. Jung looked at him, feeling guilty. He shook his head, “ No, It’s not your fault, Mrs.Jung. See you guys tomorrow,”
“Are you okay,Wonwoo?” Hana sat down next to Wonwoo on the couch. “ I can’t believe Doctor Ah Ra has the nerve to say all of that. I thought that I didn’t drop hints that I was married and uninterested in her. It seems like she was ignoring those hints all along,” Wonwoo sighed. He used to feel so guilty when Doctor Ah Ra made moves on him, even though he, with the help of his other friends, did drop hints to her that he was uninterested and married. “It’s not your fault. It’s not like you give her false hope or anything. Some people choose to ignore things for their own happiness,” “Are you not mad or anything?” “ Why would I be angry about something that you can’t control? It’s not your fault that she falls for you. To be honest, I couldn’t get angry at her for falling for you but I am angry at her for not understanding boundaries,” Wonwoo hummed in understanding. “Anyway-” Hana quickly jumped on him, covering his face and neck with kisses. Wonwoo hauled in laughter. “You really miss me huh?” Hana kissed on the tip of his nose before answering. “ Of course. Who wouldn’t miss their husband, especially someone as hot as you?” Wonwoo grinned before flipping her on the couch. “Well, I guess I should give you all those loving that I missed during our last meeting,”
“ Someone’s glowing,” Mrs. Jung grinned when she spotted Wonwoo walking to their circle. “I guess you have a good night,” Jeonghan lifted his eyebrow, teasing Wonwoo, making the man groan. “ Did he fu-” before the words leave Soonyoung’s mouth, Jihoon shoved the rice cakes into his mouth. “ Have some rice cakes, I brought when I was out of town for conference meeting,” Doctor Seungcheol from cardiology department pat Wonwoo’s back. “I heard about yesterday’s tea. I hope you will be fine today,” he smiled to assure Wonwoo. Before Wonwoo could say anything, Doctor Ah Ra made way for him. “ Doctor Jeon, can I talk to you for a minute?”. Wonwoo nodded before making her way to her office. “Have a seat,” She offered when they got into her office. “I’m fine. What is it?” He spoke coldly. Doctor Ah Ra sighed before apologizing. “ I apologize for yesterday. I guess I’m not good at handling things,” Wonwoo nodded without saying anything. “ I also hope to apologize to your wife directly. It was low on me for blowing my anger at her,” Wonwoo nodded before opening his mouth. “ I accept your apology. I hope we can work like before without any personal feeling attached,” . Hana was surprised when Doctor Ah Ra apologized to her directly when she was having lunch with Wonwoo. “ It is fine. I accept your apology,” she smiled softly at the woman. “ What I did was very wrong, so I am very sorry once again,” said Doctor Ah Ra before she dismissed herself. “ Did she really apologize?” Jeonghan ran and sat near the couple. “Yeah, why?” Wonwoo spoke as he finished chewing his food. “ Very surprised because she has a reputation,” Hana nodded, “ What reputation?” Wonwoo immediately cut, “ No need to worry baby,” Jihoon and Soonyoung came and sat at their table. “ Baby? Gross,” Jihoon snorted as he took a sip of his coke. Soonyoung grinned at Hana “ Hi, we meet again. I have a lot of questions to ask you,” Hana laughed at the man. “ Yeah, ask away” Soonyoung giggled when he got the approval before typing in his Tiger cased phone. “ Does Wonwoo love skinship?” Hana giggled before grinning deviously. “ He does look cold but he loves skinship. He is a very romantic guy despite his looks,” All of the boys wooed at the shy man who’s gaze was straight on his food. “ Ewww, tell me more!” Jihoon giggled.
#Seventeen fluff#seventeen scenarios#seventeen imagines#svt scenarios#svt imagines#svt fluff#wonwoo scenarios#wonwoo imagines#wonwoo fluff#jeon wonwoo
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