BIT BY BIT… 💭 Anton Lee Socmed! Au

☁︎ — CLOUD 9

dictionary — (uncountable) (idiomatic) often in the phrase on cloud nine: a state of bliss, elation or happiness.

summary !! after years of constant pining after his best friend’s sister, yn finally takes notice of sohee and sohee swears he’s on cloud 9. or in other words, loser sohee finally gets the girl.

pairing !! sohee x f!reader

genre !! fluff, humor, angst, smau

warnings !! swearing, suggestive jokes, dying jokes + sohee is referred to as a ‘loser’ like a lot 😭

updating schedule !! wednesdays AND fridays

TAGLIST IS CLOSED

જ⁀➴ PROFILES 1 | PROFILES 2

ᡣ𐭩 CHAPTER 1 — HAPPY MONDAY

ᡣ𐭩 CHAPTER 2 — SO NONCHALANT

ᡣ𐭩 CHAPTER 3 — STUDY BREAK

ᡣ𐭩 CHAPTER 4 — NO GAME

ᡣ𐭩 CHAPTER 5 — YN’S FUTURE BF

ᡣ𐭩 CHAPTER 6 — CHOCOLATE BAR ✎

ᡣ𐭩 CHAPTER 7 — ME OR HER.

ᡣ𐭩 CHAPTER 8 — MY SNICKERS

ᡣ𐭩 CHAPTER 9 — BEST MAN

ᡣ𐭩 CHAPTER 10 — BEANIES <333

ᡣ𐭩 CHAPTER 11 — CRAZY EYES

ᡣ𐭩 CHAPTER 12 — ANGEL

ᡣ𐭩 CHAPTER 13 — WELCOME YN

ᡣ𐭩 CHAPTER 14 — SOHEE’S BEST FRIEND ✎

ᡣ𐭩 CHAPTER 15 — TEXT ME BACK

ᡣ𐭩 CHAPTER 16 — I’M AN EMPATH

ᡣ𐭩 CHAPTER 17 — GASLIGHTING

ᡣ𐭩 CHAPTER 18 — PRETTY BOY

ᡣ𐭩 CHAPTER 19 — COFFEE SHOP ✎

ᡣ𐭩 CHAPTER 20 — FUCK SEUNGHAN

ᡣ𐭩 CHAPTER 21 — PLEASE, PLEASE, PLEASE ✎

ᡣ𐭩 CHAPTER 22 — YN + SOHEE = NO.

ᡣ𐭩 CHAPTER 23 — HOT TAMALES

bye bye, daddy | mark lee

synopsis: you and mark have a crying, upset toddler on your hands, and it seems there are only a few things that can make her happy, — like spending time with her daddy, and watching the grinch.

pairing: girl dad!mark x female!reader

genre: fluff, domesticity, established relationship

word count: 2.4k

contains: very loving husband and father mark. very patient mark. christmas themes, santa talk. daughter doesn't have a name, but he calls her "cookie". fluff galore.

author's note: christmas is around the corner so some of the future drabbles im planning to put out will be about christmas <3 meelings (mark feelings) are open (always) (so feel free to discuss anything mark related with me <3)

©️ kongjjen 2024. all rights reserved. do not copy, translate or repost any of my works.

Mark’s keys jingle in his hand before he opens the front door, the delicious smell of dinner hitting his nose as soon as he steps foot inside the house. He knows this smell, the spices, the veggies, the sauces. You’re making a roasting — a dish he loves, that you cook very often during winters, because you know it’s one of his favourites. 

He thinks he could kiss you, if only he could find you. Where are you? 

He thinks you’re in the kitchen, but the roast is sitting perfectly inside the oven, the pan with veggies still cooking on the stove on a small flame, and the bowls with sauces and chutneys sitting on the kitchen counter far away from the edge, that you both know your daughter can reach to steal her mom’s delicious chutney — just to eat with her fingers stealthily by herself.

He throws the keys in the bowl by the entrance, finally taking his jacket off. He wanted to see you so badly that he didn’t even bother to do his routine when he came home, immediately going to look for you. 

There’s something odd going on, he thinks, because your daughter is nowhere to be seen, or heard, and she’s usually at the door the moment she hears the jingling of his keys right before he tries to open the door. Not seeing you and your daughter makes him unsettled just a tiny bit, considering there’s the stove that’s still on and he can’t find you.

He drags his slippers on the hardwood floor towards the living room, and his heart skips a bit seeing you looking through the boxes full of Christmas decorations. 

You and Mark love celebrating Christmas, and ever since you two got married you started establishing family traditions. And now you also have your daughter to pass everything on to. You’ve never skipped decorating the house, putting up a tree, Christmas films and singing carols and Christmas songs while baking cookies or cooking meals, and now you have your daughter to join in on the fun. And thankfully, when it comes to Christmas season, she’s just as enthusiastic as both you and Mark — and she’s a big Santa believer.

“Hi, baby,” Mark rasps from behind you, and you flinch, clutching a few Christmas lights to your chest. You turn around to look at him, your eyes big with what Mark thinks is fear by being taken by surprise, and he giggles. “I’m so sorry, did I scare you?” 

You nod, putting the lights down carefully, and then wrapping your arms tightly around him. 

“I didn’t hear your keys at all!” You sigh, your head falling in the crook of his neck. You inhale his scent, and you sigh once again. You always wondered how’s it possible for your husband to always smell so good, even after a busy and tiring work day.

“Maybe that’s why cookie didn’t come running to the door,” he laughs, pinching your back to make you raise your head from his shoulder. You know that’s his silent sign that he wants you to kiss him.

You giggle, grabbing his cheeks and bringing him in for a soft kiss. His lips are soft as always, and his nose feels cold while touching yours. You peck his lips repeatedly a few more times, before letting go of him. 

“I think cookie is upset, that’s why she didn’t come down from her room,” you finally respond, and Mark takes a seat on the armchair between the many boxes full of decorations. 

“Why?” Mark asks worried, and he picks up a few Christmas lights to untangle them.

“She wouldn’t tell me, but I’m guessing she’ll open up when her tummy is full,” you chuckle, and Mark laughs knowing that you’re right. You both know your daughter will forget about what made her so upset after she’ll eat something.

“What colour you wanna make it this year, baby?” He rasps, looking at the different boxes full with Christmas globes, while his fingers are fast at work untangling the strings full of lights. He really liked the white ones, but he knows you’ve always made it work no matter the colour. The year you found out you were having a baby girl you decorated the Christmas tree with soft pink globes and ornaments, and he loved it, even if he’s never thought pink could ever be a fit for Christmas.

You point at the blue ones, various tones of blue filling the huge box, but then you point your finger at the box containing the white ones, his favourites, and you let him know you’re indecisive. Blue is his favourite colour, but he really, really likes the white ones.

“You can choose what-” you’re interrupted by someone trying the front door handle, and Mark looks worried towards the from door, his neck lurching in its direction immediately.

Both you and Mark see your daughter wearing her warm hello kitty hat, open jacket around her small figure and her pink backpack hanging off her shoulders.

“Cookie? Where are you going?” Mark asks, still stretching his neck to look towards the front door. 

Thank god Mark has the habit of locking the door as soon as he comes home. 

“Bye bye mommy!” She blurts out, “Bye bye daddy!” She tries the door handle once again, but the door doesn’t open, so she’s left standing helpless in front of it.

Mark throws you a look, just to find you already looking back at him. You both look at her, and she doesn’t move for ten good seconds, before she turns around with tears in her eyes. 

You both know not to panic, knowing that your daughter can be a little drama queen sometimes.

“Bye bye mommy and daddy? Where are you off to?” He asks her, seeing as she’s still standing there.

“The North Pole,” she explains, her voice trembling a bit.

“The North Pole?” You ask, and you and Mark look at each other once again. He raises his eyebrows at you, asking you what’s going on, but unfortunately for him, you don’t have any idea either. “That’s where Santa lives,”

“Yes,” she blurts out, tears streaming down her puffy cheeks, “I’m bringing him my letter,” 

“Your letter? But it’s too early, cookie,” Mark intervenes, and it’s one of those times he doesn’t know where this conversation is going — and one of those very few times when he doesn’t know what’s going on inside his daughter’s head.

“It’s not! Yuka and Soo already sent theirs!” She speaks clearly this time, but she’s still full of rage, you can see it in her big expressive eyes, that she took from Mark.

It all clicks in your and Mark’s heads. It’s not the first time your four year old is influenced by her kindergarten friends, and it doesn’t matter how many times you and Mark tried telling her that she doesn’t have to do what everyone else is doing, she’s still a four year old child at the end of the day.

“Cookie, but you’re not Yuka, or Soo!” You explain, preparing your big Christmas traditions speech, hoping for Mark to jump in at some point, because she always listens to him and understands things best when he’s the one doing the explaining, or nagging. Even though the nagging part is almost never happening, coming from him.

“Mommy’s right, cookie,” Mark moves a bit in his seat, making eye contact with her, “We didn’t even set the tree up! We send the letter to Santa when we’re done with the tree here,” he points at the spot where you usually put the tree up. “But if you want to go to Santa’s house you can go, we’ll see you in January,”

She stays still for a bit, before she registers what her dad just said. 

“January? But Christmas is in December!” She freaks out, eyes already brimming with tears. 

“Yes, but Santa lives far away, by the time you'll come back me and mommy will have the tree already put back in the box,” he talks to her like he would to a grown up, and that’s what you love about Mark. 

He’s such a good father, he always treats her as a human first, and child second. He’ll try to explain to her why some things are good, why some things are bad, he always challenges her development and skills by treating her like a grown up. You and Mark always encourage her to speak her mind, express her feelings and what’s going on inside her mind, to tell you all her worries and fears. As a writer, Mark always challenges her imagination and creativity, making her come up with stories and all sorts of plots that he sometimes uses in his own books, discussing things with her like he would with his editor.

 And most importantly, as parents, you always work hard to make her understand that she doesn’t have to do everything her friends do. She’s still a baby, your baby, but neither you nor Mark would ever forgive yourselves if you knew something happened to her because you weren’t cautious enough and good parents.

“So you better go now, if you want to reach his house before Christmas,” Mark encourages, falsely busying himself with the Christmas lights in his lap. 

“But I can’t miss Christmas!” She throws a fit, panicking at the same time. She looks desperately at you, asking for help, but you know better than crossing Mark’s words and tactics. Parenting 101.

“Maybe you should wait a bit, cookie,” Mark turns to her once again, “Mommy is making some roasting, you should bring a bit to Santa as well, as a gift,”

“We have roasting?” She freaks out once again. The idea of missing the sauce and chutney brings her to the breaking point, and hearing her father instructing her to leave soon makes her cry immediately. 

She starts sobbing, unconsoled and alone in the entry hallway, holding her white teddy bear, Sugar, tightly. Your heart breaks for her, but you know she needs to learn not to sneak out of the house in the future, and to always come to you or Mark if she needs help.

“Why are you crying?” Mark asks, finally putting the lights away, still as tangled as before. “Come to daddy, cookie,” he instructs, opening his arms, and the crying girl launches towards him.

The moment she feels her daddy engulfing her in a warm embrace, she starts sobbing uncontrollably, holding his grey sweater tight in her small fist.  He pats her back, kissing her forehead trying to comfort her.

“I don’t wanna go!” She screams, snot already reaching her mouth, and between screams she licks her lips. You try your best to hold your laugh in, not wanting to distress her even more, but you know you and Mark will have the best talk later tonight after putting her to bed.

“Then you don’t have to go, cookie,” you reassure her, crouching down at Mark’s feet to get a better view of your daughter. “But what were you thinking? Sneaking out without telling me and daddy?” 

“Sorry,” she sobs, feeling ashamed. 

“Daddy will help you with the letter, but we always do it after the tree is up, yeah?” He reassures her, “Let’s do things the good way, cookie, the way we usually do, not the way others tell us to do, alright?”

“So you didn’t forget?” She whispers, fearing her father’s response. 

“Forget writing to Santa? Never!” He makes a dismissive gesture with his hand, scoffing, all while looking at you. “Daddy will help you, like I always do!”

She stops crying, already sweating from wearing the big fluffy hat on her head, and Mark takes it off immediately, smoothing her hair with his gentle touch.

“Can daddy see the letter you wrote?” Mark pats her on the back to have her attention, gesture that’s the equivalent of the pinch he gives you when he wants your attention.

She separates herself from her daddy, sniffing briefly before reaching behind herself for her backpack. She takes a crumpled piece of paper out, handing it to Mark, who opens it so you can see as well.

Vertical, horizontal lines fill the otherwise blank page, only god knows what she meant when she wrote them. There are a few drawings at the bottom of the page, made hurriedly — you and Mark both recognise she hurried and wasn’t as careful as she usually is, desperate to finish it fast and leave to personally take it to Santa’s. A cat, a bunny, a bike, a few princesses scattered around, wearing all sorts of coloured gowns.

You and Mark already know what to get her for Christmas, but writing the letter for her will give you the confirmation of her wishes. You already smile thinking of Mark’s pretty handwriting filling the flimsy page.

“Can we watch the Grinch, daddy?” You daughter asks, licking the snot above her lip away. 

You look at Mark, who’s already looking at you, and he makes a small movement with his head, pointing towards the kitchen, clearly giving you a way out before it’s too late. You’re very lucky to have your daughter obsessed with your husband, and you’re even more lucky to have a patient husband who loves your daughter incredibly much, she’s his whole world. 

You take the opportunity to leave them alone, going back to the kitchen to keep an eye on the roasting and the veggies still cooking slowly on the stove, hearing your daughter from the other room, and how she’s chewing her daddy’s ears off talking about scenes from the Grinch. 

And Mark, poor soul, he has to sit on the couch with his little girl, watching the cartoon as if he hasn’t already watched it thirty thousand times. He knows the jokes, the lines, it’s like he wrote the thing himself. And he wonders how his little girl doesn’t get tired of it, ever.

But hopefully, you’ll save him soon enough like you always do, bringing some lame excuse up just to save him. Hopefully, tonight you’ll need someone to stir your veggies.

yall gotta stop writing mark like he’s cool. he’s such a loser.

he’s not out here “you like that, dirty slut?” GIRL THATS ALL JENO.

self indulgent seventeen gifs: [ 1/∞ ]

I love angsty fics, I really do.

But not "my dog died" or "I feel insecure" kinda angst. I'm talking about the cheating, the break up, the suffering, the tears, the begging, the pining, the stalking, the obsession UGHHHH, love me a fic where he fucked up and now has to do the most to get her back, it gives me a serotonin boost

room(hate) | L.JN (M) — PREVIEW

SYNOPSIS: All you needed was sleep after your long shifts at the hospital, but even that was considered a luxury in these trying times. A luxury blatantly stolen by your recently acquired roommate, Jeno Lee, who seemed to have an endless line of bodies to fuck, preventing you from getting at least an hour shut eye. It was annoying. It was disrupting and you seriously hoped to whatever higher being was out there that Jeno's dick falls off one day.

GENRE: roommate au, non-idol au, unrequited hate, roommates with benefits, fluff, comedy, crack treated seriously, pwp, smut (MDNI!)

WARNINGS: fem!reader, crude language and humor, sexually suggestive themes.

WORD COUNT: estimated 15K-20K (preview is 1.2K)

RELEASE DATE: February or early March

TAGLIST: send an ask if you want to be notified when the full fic is posted!

NOTE: uh this was sort of an excuse to write a specific Jeno in mind (see banner) the dark blue hair and undercut changed the trajectory of my life (REAL).

“Huh,” he breathed out, “didn’t know Jeno got bitches that often.”

“Mark.”

Mark immediately backtracked at the edge to your voice. “Uh, I mean—“ he cleared his throat, “fuck Jeno. I hope his dick, like, falls off.”

The beseeching shine in his eyes for your approval would have been something to laugh at if it weren’t for the anger taking full reign of the receptors responsible for regulating your emotions, not letting it process anything but the bottled up frustration from weeks of enduring the extra noises accompanying most of your nights.

So much for creating a harmonious home life with a Taurus man.

“You’re kinda more pissed off than usual.”

“Yeah? Hadn’t noticed,” you said dryly.

“Dude, c’mon. Y’know what I mean,” Mark giggled, reaching out to pinch your cheek. You swat his hand away with a whine when he tried to go for the other. “Sorry, sorry—just—I feel like he did more if you—“ he made a vague gesture to the air in front of you, “—are this upset.”

“I think keeping me up with horrendously loud sex takes the cake.”

“M’dunno. You lost your fuckin’ marbles when I ate your food that one time.” He shuddered, knowing fully well how touchy you were with the prepped meals you slaved for hours every Saturday.

Being this far into your career, cooking was almost like a chore since you barely had any down time to cook actual meals that required significant amounts of time and patience. You could even say that it was more appropriate to call it luxury almost as most of your time was dedicated to the hospital—to your patients whose lives were also in your hands, and pre-made food was the only solution to fit three-meals-a-day into your demanding schedule.

The long-lasting effects of when he, out of sheer desperation, snatched your jar of banana chia pudding still lingered when he always made it a point to ask if he could have one bite, or a quick sip after the rather traumatizing verbal lashing you’ve subjected him to.

You shook your head. “No. Jeno knows not to do that at least.”

It’s the one thing you had stressed right when you had Jeno settle in. Not that he minded, sans the obligatory head tilt when he didn’t quite get it until your further explanation; he even offered to help with the meal-prep which kind of—for a short moment—made you feel a little guilty thinking back to the conversation (puppy eyes, full lips jutted out into a thoughtful pout. More puppy eyes and Jeno’s weird, trademarked noises of confusion) until you were violently reminded of his fuckery.

Perhaps the whole golden retriever-like temperament and attentiveness balanced out his newly discovered predilection for whoring himself out.

Mark heaved a sigh as if he was the one with a 24/7 sex noise problem. “Then what could be worse than Jeno boning some random chick?”

You gave him a grim smile.

The thing was, it wasn’t always like this.

You were no stranger to peace as you did get a generous taste of it with Jeno thrown into the mix. A peaceful coexistence between a surgical nurse and some tech guy.

A routine had been built around having different work hours where you were mostly gone from morning to evening when you weren’t on-call, while Jeno was more often than not stationary since he had the choice to either work from home on his elaborate PC set-up, or in the office he’d drive to when needed.

It was relatively normal. Jeno was neat and kept to himself most of the time, did his set of chores listed on the mini whiteboard stuck to the fridge and generally acted what one would expect from a proper roommate who was here to make a home with you.

It had been normal. It had been peaceful, until it wasn’t and what made this whole thing exponentially worse was that the last girl Jeno had brought home wasn't just some random chick that had fallen victim to Jeno’s charms.

It was Jimin Yu, your work best friend and the only other person who knew of your sleeping problem that was caused by the root of said problem who might as well have been sent to you as a divine punishment of some kind. Which was kind of funny to think about knowing Mark, his faith and him technically being the catalyst of it all, but you digressed.

Jimin Yu. Another capable woman lost to some fucking loser (see: Jeno). Again. This was literally a slow burn epidemic happening in real life, and yet no one else seemed to be alarmed by it.

How you came to find out that it was your best friend getting her back blown out six ways to fucking Sunday right before a full day of two operations waiting for you to scrub and assist in was from pure, accidental intuition alone.

And anger. 

Especially anger.

It was a rule you strictly followed: do not leave your room until you were sure the chosen girl from Jeno’s seemingly never-ending roster was gone. Saving both you and the poor girl from the embarrassment was the least you could do when you yourself would rather avoid any risks of running into anyone in someone else’s home right after a hook-up.

And, well, there was a reason why the saying ‘rules are meant to be broken’ was popularized, because you broke that one simple rule that kept your insanity intact.

Two hours left before your shift starts and you were more husk than person from the lack of sleep, all rationale completely consumed by anger that seemed to be the only thing that kept you going—and consequently what led you to shoot out of bed once the telltale sounds of Jeno’s door clicking open, followed by the hurried footsteps reached your ears.

“You motherfucker.”

This was the ultimate act of betrayal.

“It’s—It’s not what it looks like!” Was Jimin’s immediate defense right when the thunderous expression twisting your face grew more and more clear the closer you got to them with what were essentially stomps of your feet, but her words didn’t exactly help her case when:

There were obvious splashes of reds, blues and purples marking her slender neck.

Her hair was a downright mess, and you knew Jimin to harbor some sort of complex for her long luscious locks, so this was new—her not bothering to comb it out, obviously in a rush to leave.

There was a slight limp in her step which just said everything.

And lastly, the damning fact that you caught Jeno sneaking Jimin out of the fucking apartment, clearly expecting to not run into you.

“Ah-ah. No,” you interrupted before she could even start groveling. “I’ll deal with you later. Get out.”

Jimin’s shoulders sagged, big wet eyes staring into your very soul and it took you a Herculean amount of strength to keep your gaze ahead and not break under her stare; to keep your gaze set on Jeno who, unlike Jimin, appeared rather contrary to her obvious distress as he stood underneath the awning in only—goodness—only a pair of athletic shorts where you could definitely make out a hefty looking dick-print, completely at ease and infuriatingly handsome despite the disheveled state he was in; matching bruises smattering the milky skin of his neck and down his chest, scratches on his arms, shoulders and back and his hair an artful mess atop his head. 

You wanted to scream.

TAGLIST: @jaylaxies @hoondrop @sliceofajayke @justalildumpling @dammit-jjk @learnthisfeeling @90s-belladonna

pack it up barzy 😍

LITERALLY THOUGHT THIS WAS HIM WHEN I FIRST SAW THIS LMAOO

All My Love || j.w.w.

Summary: He's cool, smart, attractive... and completely out of your league. But that won't stop you from falling head over heels for him.

Pairing: Jeon Wonwoo x fem!Reader

Genre: High School AU, fluff

A/N: this one goes out to all the book nerds i did this for us besties. this was loosely based on an anime i watched, but in the end it was not really like it lol. I've worked on this for months now so please show a lot of love!

updates every saturday! want to join the taglist? send an ask!

masterlist

table of contents under the cut!

I. the gentle indifference of the world II. if you want to keep a secret III. so this is my life IV. a truth universally acknowledged V. more myself than i am VI. all this happened... more or less VII. we interrupt this program... VIII. if you want to keep a secret IX. i like you (first, second, and third) X. and so with the sunshine