#also sorry for consulting u guys at like midnight

[clembian]

"to love is to endure"

rbs appreciated🌷

[kpopfanfictrash]

Control

Author: kpopfanfictrash

Pairing: You / Mark

Rating: PG-13 

Word Count: 4,448

Summary: On a night out with your friends, you accidentally text the wrong number for advice. The guy on the other end of the phone is abrupt, harsh and kind of an ass - but he also happens to be right. Which explains why you keep texting him. Right?

“537. 555. 2469.”

Finishing typing the digits into your phone, you look up. “Got it. Still can’t believe you dropped your phone in the toilet.”

“Yeah, well.” Jen frowns, leaning into the mirror. “Don’t keep your phone in your back pocket.”

“Life lessons from Jen,” you deadpan, sliding your straightener over your hair. Bumping your roommate in the hip, you grin. “But really. That burner phone looks terrible.”

“What, this red Envy from my high school days? Top line technology, Y/N.”

“Obviously.”

“I can type AND flip it open. How many phones do you know that can do that?”

“Zero. Actually zero.”

Jennifer gives her hair a final fluff before facing you. “Just two more days until my new phone ships.”

“Thank god. So how do I look?”

Jen eyes you up and down. “Stunning. Ravishing. The boys will be eating out of your hand.”

You laugh as you straighten your top. “Too much, even for you,” you scold, leaving the bathroom as Jen’s laughter follows you down the hall.

You and Jen have been friends since college, ever since you spilled your drink at a bar and Jen was there to pull you aside, insisting some random guy pushed you. After that you were inseparable, even after college it was the same – except now you’re roommates, living out your struggles while simultaneously navigating the waters of early twenties-dom.

Today is Friday and after a long work week you’re finally ready to let loose. Or at least, Jen is. You’re the one being dragged along, despite your ardent desire to stay in and watch West World with a bottle of wine.

This, however was deemed by Jen as ‘anti-social.’

So here you are, dressed in your heels and a tight skirt. Ready to take the town by storm. Or at least Blackbird – the club you’ve settled on for the night. As you enter you scan the crowd, shoving your nervous butterflies into the pit of your stomach. 

Jake is supposed to be here tonight. Jake - the incredibly attractive and incredibly elusive boy you’ve been seeing.

Well, seeing is a strong word.

You two went on one date and it’s been days since you’ve heard from him. As you reach the bar you pull out his last message, hoping to decipher something between the vaguely worded texts you’ve yet to see.

Y/N: Hey! I had fun last night. Let me know if you want to do it again sometime. [11:50 AM]

Jake: Hey, me too. Would love to see you again, let’s talk later this week about details? [12:10 PM]

You: Great :) [12:12 PM]

Two days later.

You: Hey :) [2:01 PM]

Re-reading your text, you cringe at the double smiley. Just like you did Tuesday, moments after sending it. The next text is a little more heart-lifting.

Jake: Hey [2:29 PM]

You: So there’s an art exhibit this weekend I think you’d enjoy. Want to come with me? [2:31 PM]

Jake: I already have plans this weekend. But rain check? [2:55 PM]

No response from you after that. Even with a guy as cute as Jake, you can take the hint. But then he texted earlier, wanting to know what your plans were for tonight.

Jake: Hey, Y/N. I told friends I’d meet them later but was hoping to see you too. Any chance you’ll be at Blackbird tonight? [4:05 PM]

You: I think I could be persuaded. See you there [4:08 PM]

So now you hold your phone in one hand, scanning the bar for his familiar face. Dark brown hair, killer green eyes. A combination designed to scramble thoughts. Smart, too. Jake owns his own consulting business while somehow managing to keep up charity work on the weekends. That’s right, charity work - mostly at the local children’s hospital.

And there he is now.

Your heart flutters, only to stutter when you realize he’s not alone. The girl’s back is towards you, so you can’t see what she looks like but if her legs are anything to go off of, she’s gorgeous. Jake leans in close - too close to be just friends.

All of a sudden the space inside this club seems very small. The room is too hot and you don’t know where to look. You end up slipping your hand in Jen’s, pleased when she tugs you towards the bar.

“Come on,” Jen sniffs, having seen the whole exchange as she glares in Jake’s direction. “Let’s go get you a shot.”

Five tequila shots later, the room spins in a peachy fuzz of alcohol. Better than focusing on Jake, at least and you head onto the dance floor, swaying your hips and trying to pretend that you’ve forgotten all about what’s-his-face.

A hand taps you on the shoulder.

“Yeah?” You turn, freezing when you come face to face with tousled hair and a mega-watt smile.

Jake stands right before you. “I’ve been searching for you.”

“Not very hard, it seems.” Frowning, you turn to leave as his hand closes around your upper wrist. “Hey!” you gasp, yanking your arm free.

Jake lets you go, holding up both hands. “I’m sorry,” he apologizes, gaze roaming your face. “I wish I could be at that art exhibit tomorrow.”

“It doesn’t matter,” you say, even though it does.

Jake touches your hand, fingers soft against your skin and you suddenly are having a hard time staying mad. 

“It does matter,” he says solemnly. “I really am sorry – I just have to be at the hospital first thing in the morning.”

You turn towards him. Maybe if you were less drunk, you’d realize that this doesn’t make a lot of sense. If Jake has to be at the hospital first thing in the morning, why is he at a club in Midtown past midnight? But you’re not thinking too clearly right now, and his excuse is just enough to appease your anger. 

“Oh,” you say, the word coming out small.

Jake steps closer. “I feel I should stay longer,” he muses. “It’s been awhile since I’ve seen these friends. But I was wondering… Nah, never mind.”

“What?” you ask, leaning in.

Jake shakes his head. “I was just wondering if you wanted to get a cup of coffee tonight? I know it’s late and a bit crazy, but…” He trails off, unsure.

Blinking up at him, you nod. “I’d like that.”

“Great.” He smiles down at you. “Well, I’m going to go back to my friends. But I’ll come over in a bit, yeah?”

“Yeah.” Slightly dazed from the conversation, you watch him go. Sliding in and out of dancers until he disappears from view. 

Your head spins from both the conversation and your alcohol and once Jake is out of sight, the music seems to surge around you. The bodies of dancers swallowing you until suddenly you’re overwhelmed. Closing both eyes, you push towards the edge of the dance floor.

You need Jen. She’ll be able to tell you what to do because right now, the whole club is spinning and it’s probably not a good idea to go home with anyone. 

But Jake isn’t just anyone.

You scan the floor. No Jen. Fingers fumbling, you pull out your phone, scrolling through contacts for her burner number.

“Pick up, pick up, pick up,” you grumble, facing away from the noise. Jen doesn’t answer though – unable to hear over the sound of the club. Defeated, you pull back your phone and type instead.

Y/N: So Jake found me. [12:03 AM]

You pause, thinking about what to say..

Y/N: He said he’s sorry for msising the art thing but wants to get coffee. I’m kind of drunk so idk?? I knw he blew me off but it was bc of that thing at the children’s hospital : / and he seems like he actualy wants to see me … idk what do I do HELP [12:05 AM]

You press send.

A response doesn’t come right away so you wait. Continuing to search the dance floor for Jen’s signature curly hair. Until your phone chimes in your hand.

555-8924: I think you have the wrong number. [12:07 AM]

Fuck. Scowling down at the still-blinking ellipses, your face heats up. Jen must have put in the wrong number  – now how are you going to find her? Also - how wildly embarrassing. You just rambled on like a drunken moron to a total stranger.

Your phone chimes again.

555-8924: But seeing as I’m awake and feeling particularly generous – one hundred percent no, you should not get coffee with him. Are you insane? [12:08 AM]

You stare back at the response, black and white, and a tiny bubble of anger appears in your stomach. You type, fingers flying over the keyboard since you’re too drunk to care how you come across. 

Y/N: Oh, really? What makes you – a cmplete stranger – think u know me? [12:10 AM]

555-8924: Lol. I know you. [12:11 AM]

You bristle when his or her ellipses continue to pulse. Ding. 

555-8924: But more importantly I know him. I’m a guy. And I can recognize a tragic situation when I see one. [12:12 AM]

You gasp, past caring if anyone hears. 

Y/N: Tragic? Well, fuck you. [12:13 AM]

He doesn’t respond. You collapse into the closest booth, staring down at your screen until your anger fades and eventually, your curiosity gets the best of you.

Y/N: But … say I did value your opinion. Why shouldn’t I get coffee with him? [12:14 AM]

When the ellipses re-appear, you let out a breath you didn’t realize you’d been holding. 

555-8924: Well. First off – a children’s hospital? Sounds too good to be true. Second. Coffee after midnight? There’s only one thing that guy wants and it’s not coffee. [12:16 AM]

You blush, almost missing his next text. 

555-8924: And three – you said so yourself, this guy blew you off. Why would you give him the opportunity to do it again? [12:16 AM]

You stare at your phone. He’s right. Whomever he is, he’s right. Jake is just trying to hook up. And… as much as you want that, you also want more. Which doesn’t seem to be the case for him.

Y/N: I hate to admit, seing as you’re a dick and all but you have a point. [12:17 AM]

555-8924: Hahaha [12:18 AM]

The guy texts back laughter, typing each ha. It makes you grin, chuckling when your phone dings again.

555-8924: Okay, maybe I was being harsh. [12:19 AM]

Y/N: Harsh is the Sahara. Harsh is the Amazon rain forest. Calling a girl tragic on a Friday night is nothing short of savage. [12:20 AM]

555-8924: You’re right, who am I to judge? You’re probably not tragic. Just hopelessly naïve [12:21 AM]

Y/N: Well, you’re too cynical! [12:21 AM]

Oh, crap. What are you doing? Wincing, you set your phone in your lap. This guy isn’t going to respond. He definitely won’t respond. He – ding. 

555-8924: How did you know what my friends call me? Birth name Mark, ‘Cynical’ for those in the know. [12:23 AM]

Your thumbs hover over the keyboard. 

Y/N: Hi, Mark. I’m Y/N. Thanks for talking to me. [12:25 AM]

There’s a long pause before your phone dings again.

555-8924: Pleasure’s all mine. [12:27 AM]

“Y/N!”

Your gaze shoots up, happy to see Jen pushing through the crowd of people. When she reaches your side she sits, smelling of sweat and perfume.

“Are you ready to go?” she asks. “This place is one spilled drink away from Hot Mess central, destination: Not Good.”

Laughing, you push yourself to stand. “I’m ready.” You slip your purse over your shoulder, wobbling just a little bit. “I’ll call an Uber?”

Jen nods, looping her hand in yours. “Did I see you talking to Jake earlier?”

“Ugh,” you groan, rolling your eyes. “He wanted to get coffee later tonight.”

“Oh, really?” Jen laughs. “Translation: BOOTY CALL.”

You flush, remembering Mark’s similar assessment. “Yeah, that’s what I figured. I’m not going.”

“Of course not.” Jen squeezes your arm. “You’re worth so much more, sweetie. He’ll realize that soon.”

“Yeah. Maybe.”

As you leave, you glance over your shoulder. Without really meaning to, you find Jake’s gaze. His face lights up, mouth opening until he notices your purse on your shoulder. His gaze darkens, falling when you slowly shake your head.

And then you leave, disappearing out the door. Feeling oddly lighter than when you entered.

The next morning you wake to a banner headache. Groaning, you clutch your comforter tighter and squint at the clock on your nightstand.

9:04 am.

You can sleep for a while longer. Rolling over, you nestle into your blankets and … remember last night. Your eyes shoot open. All the memories of the club come crashing down as you groan.

You almost went home with Jake. The memory of that stupid pick-up line hits you like a ton of bricks.

“If you wanted to get a cup of coffee? I know it’s late and a little crazy, but…”

Thank god you didn’t go.

You sit up, hastily grabbing your phone to scroll through your texts. Your heart hammers when you see them - when you remember your virtual love doctor. Wincing at all the spelling errors, you groan out loud. Falling back and clsoing your eyes when you read the part about telling Mark to go fuck himself.

That’s his name – Mark.

After simmering in embarrassment for several minutes, you decide to send him an apology. He seems nice and you were being drunk and incoherent. The least you can do is apologize.

After several minutes of typing, you have the following:

Y/N: Hi, Mark. This is Y/N from last night. I woke up to these texts and wanted to say sorry. I’m normally not that drunk. Or rude. The naïveté still stands though, so thanks for calling me out on that. Anyways, you don’t have to respond to this but I wanted to apologize now that I’m sober. [9:10 AM]

You press send, setting your phone back on your table and flopping onto your pillows. Mark probably won’t respond. Why would he, after last night? 

Ding.

Mark: Hi, Y/N from last night. Don’t worry about it – you were the most entertainment I’ve had in a while. [9:13 AM]  

You sit up, slowly typing back your response.

Y/N: Glad to hear my dating woes amuse you. Got any advice for a continually tragic case such as myself? [9:15 AM]

Mark: Well first off, don’t tell him that.[9:16 AM]

Y/N: Noted. [9:16 AM]

Mark: Second, play hard to get. Did you talk to him before leaving last night? [9:17 AM]

You remember looking at Jake - but you left without a word. 

Y/N: No. We made eye contact but I didn’t say anything – I just left. [9:18 AM]

Mark: Haha good. He’ll probably text today, wondering why you didn’t go home with him. [9:19 AM]

You almost laugh – like it’s that easy.

Y/N: Riiight. [9:20 AM]

Y/N: I’ll be sure to let you know when that happens. Don’t hold your breath. [9:21 AM]

Mark: I’m just saying. Guys can be dicks but we’re predictable dicks. We want what we can’t have. [9:22 AM]

Y/N: How pessimistic of you. Who died and made you love doctor? [9:23 AM]

Mark: You did, when you asked me for advice.[9:24 AM]

Snorting, you tap your fingers against your legs. He’s right.

Y/N: Fine. I’ll let you know when Jake comes banging on my door. [9:25 AM]

Mark: Good. I actually have to go – work – but keep me updated, Y/N. Cynical might be my middle name, but I’m a sucker for a happy ending. [9:27 AM]

You throw your phone back on your comforter and sigh, stretching your arms overhead. For some reason there’s a smile on your face when you get up out of bed.

Around 6:00 your phone dings.

Jake.

Your eyes move to the previous thread – re-reading Mark’s smug assurance that Jake would text before the day was up. How the hell did he know? You open Jake’s text, eyebrows rising when you see a photo of him crouched beside a girl in a hospital bed. Jake is holding a picture book and smiling ear to ear.

Jake: Hey, Y/N! Sorry if I came on too strong last night. I realized this morning that I was out of line and wanted apologize. This is Melissa, we’re reading Clifford the Big Red Dog (see? I really did have charity work). Anyways. All of this is a rather long way of asking if we could set a time for that second date of ours? [6:03 PM]

You stare at his words. Without really knowing why, you find yourself texting Mark.

Y/N: You’re not going to believe who just texted me. [6:05 PM]

The phone dings almost immediately.

Mark: Let me guess. Coffee jackass? [6:06 PM]

Laughing, you bite your lip to keep from grinning.

You screenshot Jake’s message and picture, sending both to Mark. 

Y/N: Bingo. What should I say? [6:07 PM]

There’s a long pause, and you’re about to message him again when your phone dings.

Mark: Do you like this guy, Y/N? [6:09 PM]

His question gives you pause. Jake is kind, nice and smart. Maybe not the easiest to read and he doesn’t always get your sense of humor – but then, who’s perfect? 

Y/N: Yes. [6:10 PM]

Mark: Okay. Then respond, but keep it casual. Let him know you’re interested but don’t be the one to set the time and place. Make sure you stay in control. [6:13 PM]

You nod. Stay in control. You can do that. 

Y/N: A date? What did you have in mind? [6:14 PM]

Jake: Dinner. The two of us. Next Friday night. [6:15 PM]

Your eyebrows shoot up.

You: It’s a date. [6:17 PM]

Hardly able to believe your luck, you fingers fly to Mark.

Y/N: We’re going to dinner next Friday. Can you believe? Thank you!! [6:18 PM]

Mark’s response is slower this time.

Mark: You’re welcome. Have a good time, Y/N [6:20 PM]

You set down your phone, glancing at your kitchen as you rub your eyes. Looking around, you realize that Jake has never been inside your apartment. When you two went out last time, he picked you up outside. Texted he was here and waited in the driveway.

He didn’t even come to the door, now that you think of it. Had the situation been reversed, you would have wanted to see his house. You would have wanted to know about his life.

Before you can talk yourself out of it, you’re typing another message.

Y/N: So Mark. Just out of curiosity, let’s say you were going on a date. Let’s say you picked her up at her house. How would you let her know you were there? [6:25 PM]

Mark: Huh? [6:27 PM]

Y/N: Like, would you honk the horn? Give her a call? Throw a rock at her window? [6:28 PM]

Mark: Haha I would go to her door. Maybe I’m nosy, but I think a person’s house says a lot about them. [6:29 PM] 

A tingle trails the base of your spine.

Y/N: Really? How so? [6:30 PM]

It’s a long minute before your phone dings again.

Mark: I don’t know, a lot of ways. Take me, okay? My home is spotless but that’s only because I work a lot. I spend most of my nights here at the fire station, sleeping in bunk beds. [6:32 PM]

Your eyebrows rise. That wasn’t the profession you would have guessed.

Y/N: So that explains why you were up at one in the morning, answering my drunk texts. [6:34 PM]

Mark: Exactly. I’m a firefighter with a hero complex. Show me a basket case about to go home with a jerk and I’ll send you sassy texts, filled with vaguely disparaging remarks about how you’re better than that. [6:36 PM]

You laugh out loud, just as Jen enters the kitchen. Her gaze flickers to the phone in your hand.

“Oo, did Jake finally text back?”

A flush stains your cheeks. “Uh, yeah. He did.”

Jumping up, Jen claps her hands together. “That’s so exciting! Are you two going out?” She starts to open up kitchen cabinets, pulling down a can of soup and a bowl.

“Yeah, next Friday night.”

Jen turns, fixing you with an oddly critical stare. “You don’t seem that excited about it.”

“I am!” you protest, smiling to hide your confusion. “I just – I’m hungover still.”

Jen makes a whoops face. “Oh, shit. I guess for future reference – five tequila shots are too many for you.”

As you slide your cell phone into your pocket, you laugh. “Five tequila shots are too many for any human, not just me, Jen.” 

You’re not sure why you don’t tell Jen about Mark.

That night you’re lying in bed, trying to decide what to wear on Friday when - ding.

Mark: So you never told me what you do for a living. [10:11 PM]

Your stomach flutters. Mark. 

Y/N: Marketing. Product testing for a local company. Nothing quite as gallant as fire-fighting. [10:12 PM]

Mark: Ah, yes. I often feel so gallant putting on canvas colored overalls. The sexiest though, is when sweat just pours down my face and pools in my jacket. That’s the pinnacle. [10:14 PM]

Y/N: Hot. [10:14 PM]

Mark: *Groans* I hope you didn’t mean that as a pun. [10:15 PM]

You laugh, surprised he understood.

Y/N:… shh, you don’t know me [10:16 PM]

Mark: Apparently I do. But actually I’ve always found marketing interesting. The concept is very psychological. [10:17 PM]

Y/N: Ding, ding, ding! I was, indeed a Psych major in college. [10:18 PM]

Mark: Let’s play a game, then. [10:19 PM]

Y/N: What kind of game? [10:20 PM]

Mark: I want to guess what your apartment looks like based on your profession. [10:21 PM]

You laugh, quieting as your gaze moves to the hall. You don’t want to wake up Jen up. Texting back, you grin.

Y/N: Go on. [10:22 PM] 

Mark: You have plants. [10:22 PM]

Y/N: Well, that’s not hard. Most people have plants. [10:23 PM]

Mark: I don’t. [10:24 PM]

Y/N: Most people with hearts have plants. [10:24 PM]

Mark: Ouch. You wound me. Y/N. You also have Christmas lights wrapped someplace they shouldn’t be even though Christmas is long gone. [10:25 PM]

You blush remembering the plant you and Jen have strung with twinkling white lights. It’s left in your kitchen year-round as a sort of night light.

Y/N: Okay, I’ll give you that one. [10:26 PM]

Mark: You have too many pillows and blankets. Enough that were we so inclined, we could make a blanket fort. [10:27 PM]

For some reason, Mark’s use of the word we makes your heart pound. This is silly, you think. Setting your phone down to rub at your temples. You don’t know Mark. You don’t know what he looks like. He could be old or balding or have a giant, hook nose.

Before you can stop yourself, you’re typing again.

Y/N: How old are you? [10:29 PM]

Mark’s ellipses blink. Pause. Blink again.

Mark: Is this because of the blanket fort thing? I’m twenty five. You? [10:30 PM]

Y/N: Twenty four. [10:31 PM]

Mark: Okay, so now that we’ve established we’re both in our mid-twenties, will you please confirm or deny the blankets thing. [10:32 PM]

You laugh out loud, realizing that this is the most you’ve laughed in a while. Especially over a guy. 

Y/N: You’re right. Screw the fort, I have enough blankets to make a whole house. [10:33 PM]

As your phone chimes, you settle down into your sheets. Somehow between one comment and the next, you don’t end up falling asleep until much, much later that night.

“So you and this guy have just been … texting?” Jen sounds skeptical.

Fighting back your blush, you take a long sip of your drink. “Yeah. I mean, it’s no big deal.”

Her eyebrows shoot higher. “If it’s not a big deal, why haven’t you told Jake?”

She has a point. It’s been three weeks since your second date with Jake and now you’re ‘officially dating.’ His words, not yours. You still haven’t quite forgotten Mark’s original advice:

Make sure you stay in control.

Still, you shift beneath Jen’s gaze. “It’s just … the timing has never been great.”

“In three weeks?” Jen laughs. “I don’t know, Y/N. When is the right time to say, hey you only started dating me because this guy told me what to do. Oh, and we still talk every day. Every night. Literally all the time. But hey! No big deal.”

Your cheeks are crimson. “It’s not every day,” you grumble.

Jen grabs your phone, swiping right to punch in your code before you can protest. “Aha!”

“I never should have told you my password,” you sigh, sinking into your seat.

“One new message from Mark!” Jen exclaims, clearing her throat. “Jackson brought home a blanket and I blame you. Why? Because I told him you had enough for a fort and now he’s concerned our apartment isn’t inviting enough. He’s now trying to make our place ‘livable.’ Please send help.”

Jen arches her eyebrows over the top of your phone.

“Give me that,” you say, snatching your phone from her hand.

“He sounds cute.” Jen’s mouth curves upwards. “Is he cute?”

“I don’t know,” you say stiffly, shoving you phone in your pocket.

“Oh, please.” Jen pushes her hair back. “You’re telling me you’ve been texting this guy for weeks and have yet to find out what he looks like?”

Sinking even further into your chair, you mumble, “I decided I don’t want to know.”

Jen stares at you like you’re crazy. “Why not?”

“I don’t want to get too involved”

“Too involved?” Her eyes widen. “I got news, honey. This is the definition of involved. You talk to Mark more than you do to your boyfriend, Jake. Oh – did you forget about him?”

“Jake and I just started dating,” you explain, not quite able to meet her gaze. “It’s not like we’re married or something.”

“Right.” Jen’s expression softens. “I get it – Mark is sweet and funny and interesting. But he’s a phantom, babe. Someone who only exists on paper. If you met in real life, it would be just as awkward and unsure as any other guy. Like Jake.”

“What?” Your gaze shoots to hers. “I like Jake!”

“You do. But not enough to stop texting Mark.”

This shuts you up and you lean back, considering. Groaning, when you bury your face in your arms. “Oh, god,” you moan. “You’re right. What’s wrong with me? Jake is gorgeous and I’ve wanted him since forever. Why can’t I just be happy?”

“Beats me.” 

When you swat at Jen, she laughs. 

“Okay,” you say, sitting up straight. “I’ll stop texting Mark. Focus on Jake.”

“Good.” A small, but evil grin spreads across Jen’s face. “And I’ll just … find out what Mark looks like because it’s literally killing me.”

“Jen!” You protest, grabbing for her hand but she’s too fast. Jen is already typing, searching through Google.

“He has our area code,” she muses. “So he must be a local fire fighter.” Your best friend squints at her phone, smacking your hand when you reach across the table.

“Jen.” Giving up, you sink down into your arms again. “I don’t want to know.”

Until she utters a soft swear. “Holy shit.”

“What?” you say, concerned as you peep through your fingertips. “What is it?”

Wordlessly, Jen turns her phone around. “Why are you the fucking luckiest girl on earth?”

Your mouth drops.

[Master List]

Author’s Note: 500 notes! Thank you so, so much for reading. Please enjoy parts II and III at the Master List above.