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chwetuan · 6 years

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Purple Velvet - Mark Tuan x Reader (m)

Summary: Mark’s having a hard time staying at your side with you in that purple dress (4.1k).

Rating: M

Warnings: swearing, use of alcohol, implied smut, mention of a parental death (not elaborated on).

Sidenote - this is loosely inspired by the “The House Party” (part of the “LOOK” Drabble Series) by @inyournightmares97 (she’s awesome, I love her)

Sidenote 2.0 - thank you so much to @mintyjin for being an amazing person and sharing her thoughts with me on this fic (she’s awesome x2) | now let’s move onto this mess of a fic shall we

Mark was definitely not happy that you decided to wear that dress. Although, there was nothing that he could really do or say about it. It was beautiful; a purple velvet that shimmered whenever light hit it. So, he watched as you greeted everyone that approached you, your head bowing with that smile of yours on display.

It was a work gathering, in celebration of several head partners securing possibly the biggest contract of the year; an accomplishment that would finally put the firm at the top of the industry. The owners of the company rented out one of the newest clubs in town and filled the open space with employees and extended guests, ranging upwards of 500 people. The place was crowded. You had just recently become the new Manager of the IT department, which was undoubtedly a big accomplishment for someone as young and arguably inexperienced as you. Many said that there was something about you, something they “couldn’t put their finger on”. Little did they know that your only quirk was that you simply liked computers. They were complicated, but once you learned them, they made sense. In a way, it mirrored your relationship with Mark.

Mark, being one of your closest friends, emphasis on close, had accepted to be your +1 before you even asked him. He just assumed that he’d be the person you’d take. He knew some of your fellow co-workers through college, so attending the event wouldn’t have put him in an overbearingly uncomfortable situation. Anyways, he was social. People liked him. Yet, tonight, his face was positively set in a scowl with his jaw clenched and no one even tried to speak to him. But several people came and spoke to you. And boy, was he having a hard time. He watched helplessly as your delicate hand came up and flipped your dark hair over your shoulder. With his bottom lip now tugged between his teeth, he averted his eyes and scanned the room because god knows he needed something else to look at. Without much luck, he snatched a glass of champagne from the tray of a clumsy waitress that was passing by, choosing to turn to alcohol if he couldn’t find something else to keep his attention. He sipped it, scrunching his nose at the taste before placing the unfinished drink on a nearby table. Cheap, he thought. Or perhaps it was too expensive. He couldn’t tell; champagne wasn’t really his drink of choice anyway, and if he wanted to make it through this event, he would need something way stronger. As expected, his eyes wandered back to you. They always managed to do that. They traveled down your back, admiring the colorful tattoos that adorned the skin he knew was soft. That damned dress, he thought. All he wanted, quite frankly, was the dress off or for you to at least cover your chest; make a damn choice, he reasoned with himself. But neither of those things would be happening, not then and most definitely not later on. So, he settled for stepping closer to you and running his hand down the trail of writing that was exposed to him. And everyone else, he thought begrudgingly. The sudden contact made you jump, causing you to forget what you were going to say to the older woman in front of you. You smiled apologetically at her and excused yourself, promising to find her later on and continue your conversation. She smiled in response before taking a sip out of her glass and swimming into the sea of people. You turned to Mark and looked up at him with questioning eyes as you felt the palm of his hand close around your waist and pull you closer to him. You tensed when he brought his lips down to your ear and spoke, surprisingly, curtly. It wasn’t the tone you were expecting. “I’m going to find Jinyoung. If you need me, text me.” “Mark-“ And with that, the warmth of his hand along with his presence disappeared. The air around you was replaced with a sudden coolness that caused goosebumps to rise on your skin. That asshole didn’t even wait for a response. But that’s how things seemed to settle between you and him; hot and cold. One minute, he’d have you pressed against his chest, engulfing you in one of the most comforting embraces a person could give. The next minute, he wouldn’t even spare you with a glance. Whenever he touched you, you could feel the air around you shift. Each touch was purposeful- Mark didn’t just hold your hand or kiss your temple without reason. He held your hand because he didn’t want to lose sight of you in the crowd; he kissed your temple because he noticed how your smile faltered at the sidelined remark that came from a friend. He was good at noticing those things. Tonight, however, he was being an asshole. You didn’t know why, either. It was times like these that the reality of your relationship dawned on you. Mark could do whatever the hell he wanted. You could, also. You weren’t dating. You weren’t together. It started on a dark, mostly drunken night, when all that was audible was the sound of thunder and heavy rain. Why you and Mark had decided to get piss drunk during the middle of one of the worst storms the town would face, eluded you both. “The world is about to fucking end,” you concluded, feeling rather confident with your deduction. And in your state of intoxication, you fell clumsily into each other’s arms. “The world is not going to end without me doing this,” he said before his lips met yours. That messy kiss was the first domino to fall. The line that was crossed. Afterward, you would find yourselves in one of your apartments on several different occasions, exchanging those same kisses and sometimes more. And that’s where you guys were now. In a confusing limbo of friendship where you both had more than friendly feelings for each other. It left you to wonder why you didn’t just date, or stop screwing each other, physically and emotionally. He often thought of it too. You both knew stopping was out of the picture. There had been too many nights where you found yourself underneath him, begging him to do something- anything, to get rid of the knot he’d slowly tied in your stomach. There had been an equal number of other nights where you didn’t have to ask. But on these nights, he kissed your forehead like you were made of porcelain. There had been nights that you cried into his arms; nights that you found you could only sleep if he was next to you. There were days that went by where he found himself miserable without hearing your voice or seeing you. And although you never claimed each other with a title, you both knew the truth. There was no one else on this hell-forsaken earth that could understand you like Mark Tuan could. No one that could make you feel like he could. No one that could make you as frustrated or as happy. Right now, you were frustrated. The asshole. ~~~~~ Mark hadn’t found Jinyoung. Jinyoung had found Mark, after Mark had downed two glasses of tequila at the bar and was ordering his third. He sat, one elbow on the bar counter, his free hand resting lazily on his thigh. Jinyoung hated tequila. He thought it was a cheap man’s drink. But more importantly, he hated what it meant when Mark Tuan drank tequila: the man was ready to stir up some trouble. And Mark Tuan looked a mess. “Yah, hyung- what’s the matter?” Jinyoung asked as he seated himself on the stool next to him. “That fucking dress,” Mark mumbled, grimacing at the burn his throat felt when he sipped his fresh drink. Jinyoung couldn’t hear him. The music was too loud and the dj was playing the same stupid pop song he had played twice already. “What?” He asked leaning closer towards him, “Nothing.” Mark spoke louder this time, sitting up and turning slightly to face him. “Who are you here with? You didn’t drive, right?” Jinyoung asked, the concern dripping off of his words. His eyes scanned Mark’s face, taking in his flushed features. Mark would’ve preferred if he said “Hey, Mark, you drunken idiot. You took a cab, right? You have that look in your eye, you know, the one that screams “I’m drunk off my ass and need a babysitter.” I’m here to babysit you”. “I’m supposed to be here with Y/N-“He started, pausing to sip his drink,“But she’s probably out there ass kissing her way to another promotion.” The corners of Jinyoung’s mouth turned downward. So, this was the trouble Mark wanted to start, he thought to himself. “You know you don’t mean that, hyung.” It was true. He didn’t mean it. Jinyoung always knew what the truth was. “We took a cab. This is my last drink.” He shrugged before taking another sip. Jinyoung nodded and motioned towards the second floor balcony of the club. “I’ll be up there- I think Jaebum might still be there too. If you get tired, tell the host you’re looking for table 6. Bambam disappeared about an hour ago but I’m sure he’s either throwing up or hooking up.” Mark nodded, not really paying attention to what the man in front of him was saying. He thought the music was too loud and he felt dizzy. He also thought the tie Jinyoung had on was stupid, which is why- he concluded,- that he couldn’t focus on what he was actually saying. He reasoned that whatever Jinyoung was saying was stupid anyway, because who could wear such a god-awful tie. Willingly? ~~~~~ You caught a glimpse of Mark about an hour later, as it got closer to 11pm. When you came face to face, you noticed 2 things. The first being his slightly glassy eyes, and the second being the red color that danced across his cheeks. Then you noticed one more thing. The glass of tequila in his left hand. “Are you drunk?” You huffed out in annoyance and stared at him with expectant eyes. “Are you drunk?” He replied; shifting on his feet. You could tell he was unsteady. “I had one glass of champagne.” “I had one glass of champagne.” He repeated in a sarcastically saccharine voice. It was true, he did have one glass of champagne. Kind of. “Mark,” you started, reaching your hand out to take the liquid courage away from him. “Give me that. You’re going to fall and spill it all over yourself.” Mark grabbed your hand with his own free one before raising the hand that held the drink far above your reach. “No Y/N, this is my last drink. And if I have to stick around here and deal with stupid ties and stupid music and stupid people, and then you,” he paused to analyze your face, “Then I’m going to need it.” “Stupid ties? What the hell are you talking about?” You asked, with annoyance and a hint of confusion teasing across your tone. You figured it was just the alcohol talking. Drunk Mark was positively your least favorite Mark, right next to the Mark who thought it was okay to stand up immediately when a flight landed. He brought the drink down slowly, keeping his eyes on you as he downed what remained before slamming the glass down on the table in front of him. You were surprised it didn’t shatter. His hold on your hand had shifted, and now his fingers and palm encased your wrist. His grip wasn’t tight, but it was uncomfortable. He pulled you once, not hard enough to make you stumble- and then again. He was trying to get you closer to him, but you weren’t budging. “Y/N”, he whined, tugging incessantly at your wrist. It was then you decided that you needed to get out of there before he did something stupid. Or before you said something stupid to him. After one particularly hard tug, you found yourself bracing your free hand against his chest - a method of not crashing into him- as his hands found their way around your waist. You were so close to him; you could see his navy hair beginning to cling to his forehead. “I don’t like when you look at me like that.” He huffed out, throwing his head back. “Like I did something bad.” You just stared. He sounded like a child. “We’re leaving.” Mark felt reprimanded. ~~~~~ Getting Mark out the doors of the crowded club was a task you could manage. He was relatively small, although he towered over you, even with heels. You had been through much worse. However, getting him to keep his hands off of you in the cab was something you couldn’t manage. It wasn’t sexual; the way his arm was around your waist with his head resting on your shoulder. You and Mark had hooked up enough times that you knew what he was like when he needed you, or wanted you, rather. Mark was very conscious of the fact that you were mad at him, and he wasn’t even thinking about getting you in his bed, even if that damn dress wastempting. Anger was engraved on your face. He could see it in the slight pout of your lips - that he so badly wanted to kiss- and in the way you avoided looking at him. He hated that. “Y/N, you know I lo-“ he started; only to be cut off by a sigh escaping your mouth. “I don’t want I hear it.” He stayed quiet. Mark had a dirty habit of telling you he loved you when he was intoxicated. It was something he never said sober. Although, there had been one time when you heard him say it, to you specifically. It was a few weeks after your mother had passed away. You weren’t in a good place. You had threw your phone against the wall of your apartment, frustrated with the world. You were sick of the messages. The condolences from people who didn’t care. Tears ran down your face until you felt numb. Somehow, you managed to get into your car and drive to Mark’s apartment complex. It was late- you knew it then too- probably around 1 or 2am. You didn’t even know where you were until you found your feet on his “Welcome” mat. When he opened the door and saw you, he felt his heart break- he swore to it. He had never felt something like that before. You looked at him with tear stained cheeks and wet lashes. You started to cry again. He looked like comfort. He looked like peace. Your hands covered your face and you somehow choked out a strained “I’m sorry”. You didn’t know when he had brought you inside or locked the door, but you felt his hands around you, one on the back of your neck, the other on the back of your head. “No, Y/N. No, don’t you ever apologize.” His voice was stern but you knew the malice was superficial. His hands tilted your head so you were looking up at him. Once again, he had that feeling in his chest. A cross between a shatter and a stab. He hated it. “Baby, come here,” he whispered before pulling you into his arms. Next, you were on his bed, crying into his chest as he held you. You could feel his even breathing on the top of your head. His room was dimly lit, the glow of the green fairy lights along with the soft light reflecting off of the tv in front of you. You’d remembered those green lights. It was Christmas, the year before, and you’d harassed Mark into letting you put them up. He’d complained that they were stupid, as he thought most things were. But he let you do it anyway, and once he saw the way your eyes lit up, he was mad at himself for not saying yes sooner. Your sobs eventually died down, and your breathing evened as Mark’s hand rubbed your back soothingly. He spoke, so quietly that he probably couldn’t even hear himself over the buzz of the cartoons playing in the background, “God, I love you so much.” He thought you were sleeping. ~~~~~ With much effort, you had managed to slip out of your dress and into a pair of shorts and a large t-shirt, huffing when you realized that it was Mark’s. You stared at the exposed red brick of the wall, contemplating your next move.

His apartment was much larger than yours- a balcony and all. It suited him. It constantly smelled like a mixture of vanilla and his cologne; there was artwork and pictures everywhere. The couches were made of black leather and decorated with fluffy blankets and pillows, way too many for you to count. And then there was your stuff. You had - “annoyingly”, as he always said - left your hair ties on the coffee table and kitchen counter, along with earrings and other “unnecessary shit”, Mark called it. In his shower, your fruity shampoo was on the rack, right next to his body wash. You had a makeup bag next to the bathroom sink that he swore he was going to get rid of if you didn’t take it home. He never threw it away, and you never took it. One of your pink bras hung on the hook of his bedroom door, and there was a grey cardigan you’d been looking for since last October hanging in his closet. Mark was capable of changing into a hoodie and a pair of black sweatpants before flopping down on the couch. He was sobering up, you thought. More like hoped. At least you didn’t have to dress him. You already felt like you were babysitting. His arm was thrown over his face as you padded out of his bedroom with a freshly washed face. You walked over to him, nudging his knee with your own. “C’mon, let’s go to sleep. You need to-“ “You’re mad at me.” He cut you off, as you had done to him in the car. You huffed. He noticed that you kept doing that tonight, but he was wise enough to not mention it. “Mark, you need to-“ “Why are you mad at me?” Those words were the first indication that no, he was not sobering up. The second was him pulling you into his lap and clinging onto you as if you were going to run away. “We’ll talk tomorrow, okay?” You spoke softly. He just stared at you as if you were a code he needed to break. Contemplative. You tried to stand but his hands were holding you in place. This time, he wasn’t budging. “Mark,” you whined just as he had done when you were back at the club. “I’m tired, I want to sleep.” It was his turn to huff. He gently guided you off of him- surprising, considering his state- and in turn you guided him to his bedroom. Lights off, in bed. His hands still not leaving you. ~~~~~ When you awoke, you were surprised not to find your bodies tangled together. You braced yourself on your elbows before reaching for your phone and checking the time; 10:09am. Mark peeked out of the bathroom, toothbrush in mouth, when he heard you stirring. Your eyes met his, and for a brief moment, you were almost angry that he didn’t have a hangover. He waved at you before returning to the bathroom to finish brushing his teeth. When he was finished, you got up and did the same. You sat next to him on the bed, taking his face in your hands and scanning it. You checked his eyes and felt his forehead. “Well, you don’t look like you have a hangover.” You stated, dropping your hands and running them through your own tousled hair. He laughed and your heart fluttered. It always did that when you were around him. “I don’t,” he said as if it was the most obvious thing. “I woke up before you, after all.” You hummed and a few moments of silence passed between you. Mark eyed you, trying to think of the best way to say what he wanted. He knew he had to apologize. He was too slow, as you began talking. “Last night-“ “I’m sorry,” He cut you off again, intent on saying what he needed. He had been up for half an hour with words running through his mind. “I remember most of it and I know I was very rude and probably embarrassed you. I’m sorry for not staying with you and being a proper date. I’m sorry you had to leave early and babysit me- though I won’t say I’m not happy you did. I’m sorry.” He was rambling, but every word was sincere. “It’s okay, Mark.” You said softly as you scooted closer to him, placing your hand over his. He eyed your small hand over his own before examining your face. Squinting slightly. He always did that before he finally solved a problem or figured something out. “What?” You asked; expecting him to completely change topics and say something profound borderline ridiculous. “Last night,” he started, the first two words already throwing you off. “I said that if I had to continue to deal with you, I would need a drink. I made it sound bad because I included you with all the stupid shit that was there already. Y/N, never would I ever not want to deal with you. I’ll deal with you every single day until I run out of days if the universe allows it.” You were already highly confused. And your cheeks were turning pink without permission, although you had to think back to when he exactly said that; pinpointing exactly what he was talking about. You never paid attention to his words then, too focused on trying to get him out of there. “Mark, why are you-“ “Shh. My turn.” He shushed you, his lips curving upwards. Something only you would notice. “You see, I don’t have to deal with you. I have to deal with myself when I’m around you. I feel like I have to control myself when I’m around you. I have to stop myself from approaching guys who stare at you too long or flirt with you. I have to stop myself from staring at your legs or grabbing your thighs, or hell-“ he breathed out- “even kissing you. Which happens way more often than I’d like to admit, by the way.” You could feel the heat crawl up your neck to the tips of your ears as he continued talking, the tint of your face darkening. Your heart was fluttering non-stop. “I feel like I need to remind myself to breath when I’m with you. And I’m around you all the time, so I’m constantly out of breath, Y/N. And I know why I feel like this.” “Mark- you really need-“ You tried again, though you had no idea what you’d actually say if he stopped talking. He rolled his eyes before pulling you into his lap and biting your ear playfully. “God, you’re so cute. Anyways, I’m trying to confess my love to you and you keep distracting me.” He could feel your breath hitch. You could feel your heartbeat in your ears. “It’s not a confession. You must know by now. If you didn’t think so, I don’t know what to say. I am an asshole, but I am an asshole who is madly in love with you. And on the off chance that I’ve possibly misread everything, you are madly in love with me too. I’m sick of dancing around this with you. I need you, Y/N. I don’t care if you don’t need me, but I need you to let me love you- to let me be in love with you- properly, openly. Can you do that?” A wave of silence flooded the room as you tightened your grip on him. “I can do that.” He let out a breath he didn’t know he was holding. He kissed behind your ear and nuzzled into the crook of your neck. “God, I love you so much.” You were grinning before you spoke; smile mirroring the day in December when he finally let you put the lights up. “I love you too.” Another moment of silence. It was the same comfortable silence that you were accustomed to. But this time, something felt different. Something felt free. “By the way, never wear that dress again.” He said, letting out a shaky laugh. “I thought it looked nice.” You frowned; “It did-“ he hugged you tighter and paused; “Too nice, baby. Too nice.” ~~~~~

The end <3 // This is my first fic everyone! -Z

#mark tuan #mark tuan fanfic #mark tuan fluff #got7 #got7 mark #mark tuan imagines #mark tuan imagine #got7 imagines #first fic #!!!!!!!

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