#jaem's works in progress

[cornley-amateur-drama-society]

's the way that my chris is coming across as so blasé about having robin amelia (who he's calling amelia because he simply refuses to acknowledge she's named after a bird) at first in this fic with vanessa because i think it's funny to fuck with her

[cornley-amateur-drama-society]

CONTEXT: Max's side of this peace is fragile AU. He is talking to Lucy about the peace treaty offered by Beawynn.

Max let out a sigh, leaning heavily against the wall of the Castle Bennegrove, the siblings having decided to go out on a small hunt with several cousins later that afternoon.  He looked around for any wandering ears, before answering her question.  “He's set to tell the Court at the end of the week,” he started, rubbing absently at his wrist.  “I'm to be married.”

CONTEXT: The Techie's part of the trisaccharides trilogy!

“I can answer that,” Blessing said cheerfully, setting down a finished card in light blue with white ribbon decorating the front in little flowers.  “Rob decided that the CYDS Kids were going to have a Valentine’s Do after class got out earlier.”

this week's word is...

Find the word in any WIP and share the sentence containing it. Reply, reblog, stick it in the tags, tag us in a new post, or keep it private. All fandoms, all ships, all writers welcome.

[jenosbigtoe]

i for one would love to see alpha jaem😁

mdni. nsfw 18+

pairing: superior!alpha!na jaemin x office worker!omega!reader

warnings: office au, abo, jealousy, reader is kinda bratty, fingering, tummy bulge, unprotected sex, creampie

you seriously wanted to throw your entire desktop at her stupid fucking head.

she was the new hire, an omega intern being trained by your superior, alpha na jaemin. she’d only been here for 3 weeks but she was already trying to sink her claws into your alpha. well, he wasn’t officially your alpha but everyone in the office knew the special bond you held with him. and she was sure as hell intent on getting in between that.

he was your superior but he always treated you so special, like you were really his omega. he brought you a coffee and muffin every morning from that coffee shop he knew you loved so much. he walked you to your car every evening, no matter how much longer he had to stay when you were working overtime. and he always spent his lunch breaks with you, sharing his homecooked meals when he felt you didn’t bring enough food for yourself.

you never progressed past more-than-friendly hugs after work or the light hand holding every so often with him but everyone knew he was your alpha. he was still courting you and you were basking in the attention.

until this bitch showed up and stole away all his attention.

it was bearable at first. she would have some sort of dilemma and he wouldn’t be able to eat lunch with you that day because he had to help her. he’d apologize profusely when he had to use his lunch break to go help her with whatever problem she was having that day. you would give him a reassuring smile and rub his back as you told him it was perfectly fine for him to do his job and not worry about you. or she would have to stay after hours because she needed help with a project and jaemin would have to stay with her to show her what to do.

but then she started being all touchy feely with him. with your alpha. she’d call him over to her desk for whatever reason and grab onto his arms as he stood over her desk. she would bring extra lunches “accidentally” and give him the extra lunch she brought, jaemin being too nice to decline. she would bat her stupid fucking eyelashes at him and beg him to do this and do that for her, all while you watched with a murderous look on your face.

she wasn’t stupid. she knew what relationship you had with jaemin. but she wanted him too and was going to milk all the attention she got from him, while rubbing it in your face in the process. sly smirks and pointed looks in your direction when jaemin would come running over to her whenever she had a problem.

jaemin was so busy with training her and doing his other responsibilities as a superior, he barely had any time to spend with you. and you were not happy with that. you could only take so many “sorry, y/n but she-“ before you would lose your mind.

so you coped with the lack of attention from your alpha the best way you knew how—by ignoring him back.

“hey, y/n i got your favorite,” jaemin gave you one of his signature grins and held up a coffee and muffin for you.

you pretended to not see him and brushed past, leaving him to stare in confusion at your passing body.

“y/n, let’s eat lunch together. i made that dish you always love.” he cornered you into a wall to prevent you from escaping again.

you gave him a sour expression and sighed exasperatedly. “no thanks.”

jaemin was so confused. he knows he’s been so busy for the past few weeks but did he do something wrong? why did it seem like you’re upset with him? he missed hanging out with you.

the next day, he tried going over to your cubicle to find out what he did wrong but right as he approached your desk, he was stopped by the intern.

“oh jaemin!! perfect timing i need your help with this document,” she barreled into him and grabbed his arm to yank him away.

jaemin stuttered in protest but she was too determined to get the alpha away from you. you watched that whole interaction and rolled your eyes, a deep frown marring your face.

who needed that stupid alpha anyways, you grumbled to yourself. it’s obvious he’s found his new omega plaything. he doesn’t need me anymore.

and it went like this for the next couple weeks. he would try to talk to you like normal but you would ignore him or find an excuse get away while the stupid intern took him away. you didn’t want to let your heart be vulnerable anymore for this alpha.

he was getting tired of the lack of attention from you. he missed his omega. jaemin didn’t like the cold shoulder you giving him. he knew he’d been so busy lately and you were probably feeling neglected. but now the intern’s training period was finally over so he could finally direct all his attention back to you. right before you were set to clock out, he called you into his office.

you stomped in with an irritated look. “what?” you snapped. “i’m ready to go home, mr. na.”

he raised an eyebrow at your attitude. he leaned forward in his desk. “mr. na?”

the frown on your face deepened. “yes, that’s your name right?”

“baby, you know you don’t call me that. especially when we’re in private.” he got up from his desk chair and walked around to stand closer to you.

you inched away slightly, an action he did not miss. “what do you need, mr. na?” you emphasized the formality.

he crossed his arms over his chest. “i want to know why you’ve been upset with me.”

you sighed and looked anywhere but at him. “can i leave, if it’s not an important issue?”

he walked over to stand just inches away from your body. even in heels he towered over you. you looked up to see his concerned form. “is my omega being upset with me not an important issue?”

you stared hard into his face, eyebrows wrinkled and eyes alight with stubbornness. “your omega? since when?”

“since i’ve been courting you.”

your heart was pounding in your chest. “what are you talking about? i’m not your omega. you’re crazy.”

you started to turn away from him to walk towards the door but he was quick to grab your arm and pull your body against his, trapping you in with his strength. you tried to break from his grasp, wriggling and beating at his chest, but he easily overpowered you. your legs turned to jelly at the contact.

“let me fucking go! stupid alpha get away from me!” you grunted in frustration. it was useless, he was too strong.

“oh you know exactly what i’m talking about, omega. just because i’ve been busy for the past few weeks you want to ignore your alpha? act like you’re brand new?” you could feel the red hot anger start to radiate off of him. you subconsciously rubbed your thighs together.

“fuck,” you whispered to yourself. then you straightened yourself out in his arms and jut your chin out defiantly. “so now you want to act like i’m your omega? when you’ve been prancing around with your new toy for weeks, ignoring me and all we used to do together to be with that new omega bitch?” your eyes watered at your outburst but you stood your ground.

jaemin held you firm against his body, grabbing your chin to force you to look into his eyes. “so that’s what this brattiness is about, huh. you’re jealous?”

you attempted to kick him in the groin and make your escape but he stopped your leg with his. “not fucking jealous! let me go you stupid fucking alpha! i can report you for this!”

jaemin chuckled lowly. “silly omega. i can see right through you.” he used one arm to keep your struggling body pressed against his while his other snaked down to cup your warm cunt. “i’ve been a bad alpha, neglecting my omega. letting her think i wanted someone else. when all i could ever want is right here.”

you stopped fighting against his grip, gasping at the feeling of his big hand on your achy cunt. you whined, lightly bucking your hips against his hand. “oh fuck,” you whimpered.

he caught you in a deep kiss, shutting you up real quick. sucking on your lip and sticking his tongue in your mouth. you whined against his mouth and started to grind against his hand. his fingers crawled up your skirt and pushed past your panties, teasing your wet folds and sliding past your dripping hole.

he broke contact to leave kisses up and down your jaw, fingers rubbing up and down your dripping cunt. “aw, what happened to my fiesty omega now?”

you whimpered. his fingers kept playing with your pussy and left you needing more and more. “stop teasing, jaem.”

he grinned widely at your words. his fingers pushed past your folds. you groaned. he started pumping his fingers in and out of your dripping hole and rubbing up against your sweet spot, slowly increasing his speed.

“ahhhh, alpha!” you whined out.

he suddenly removed his fingers from your hot cunt to stick them in his mouth, licking and sucking on your juices lewdly. you protested at the lack of contact but he quickly shushed you with a hot kiss, letting you taste yourself on his tongue.

he unbuckled his slacks and pulled down his boxers to reveal his achy cock, so big and red and veiny and ready to be sheathed inside your warm cunt. you attempted to reach down to stroke him off but he stopped you, lifting you up by the ass and placing you on his desk.

“baby, as much as i would love to let you stroke my cock, if i’m not balls deep in that pussy within the next 10 seconds i might explode.” he spread your legs and placed them on his shoulders. he used his cock to rub against your dripping pussy and gather your juices to spread up and down his length before lining the tip up with your entrance.

he bottomed out with one deep thrust and paused, heavy balls touching your ass. you both groaned at the sudden feeling. “oh fuck, baby you’re so fucking tight,” he moaned, gripping your waist tight to prevent you from squirming away. “my perfect omega, made just for this cock.”

he started pounding his hips impossibly fast against yours. your pussy clenched and spasmed around his fat cock dragging against your walls. arousal was dripping down your thighs and onto the desk below as lewd noises filled the tiny office with sex. “oh my god, alpha!! please, harder!” you cried, wriggling around and scratching at his back desperately.

“my omega. mine,” he grunted from above. it felt like he was trying to break you in half from his fat cock’s deep hard thrusts into your tiny pussy. “say you’re mine. say you’re my omega,” he accented his words his a particularly sharp thrust into your cunt, cock so deep his tip kissed your cervix.

you were quickly melting in a pool of putty underneath him, losing your mind from pleasure. “ahhh, alpha! yes, yes, yes!”

if possible, he went even harder with his thrusts. his cock was driving so deep inside he pressed a hand against your lower belly. “feel that, omega? that’s your alpha, deep in your guts. claiming your pussy for his.”

he grabbed one of your hands to place against your tummy and feel where his cock bulged out. you could feel every thrust, every time he bottomed out, all of it.

“say. it. say you’re mine, omega.”

“oh god, i’m yours, i’m yours, i’m yours!! alpha, i’m your omega, please oh god,” you were shaking like a leaf, tears welling up and rolling down your face. you buried your head into his chest, inhaling his deep intoxicating scent. this was your alpha making you his.

when you left the office that night, hot cum dripped down your legs. panties were missing. you had a strange limp. hair wild. neck littered with marks. and a smirking alpha wrapped around your shoulders.

a/n: i was halfway done with this but lost motivation conveniently when i told everyone it was coming soon☠️mb

[nctsworld]

I SENT THE ASK ABT PAYING TO BE STUCK IN AN ELEVATOR WITH CUTE NEIGHBOR!JAEM OMG???????? IT'S A WIP I'M SO EXCITED <33

ahhh omg hello again! yes!!! we'll have to see if i manage to get it done before a good time, but def something that's been on my mind!!!!

works in progress

[mosviqu]

we need more media where the second male lead ends up winning in the end

[cornley-amateur-drama-society]

I'm so torn on the quote prompt! Half of me wants to have the Cast at an amusement park and seeing either an incredibly long line or a suspiciously short one. But the other half of me wants to make it the sequel to last year's quote prompt (aka the gingerbread!Vanessa au)!

I haven't figured out what the rest of them will be, but I'm working on finishing the C³ prompts I didn't finish in winter so I can focus and lock in on these ones!

Weekly Check-In #1

We’re already a week into it, and it’s time for the very first check-in of the event. This is your chance to talk about your progress, or maybe vent about your writers block. Either one is more than welcome.

It’s still early on and there’s still plenty of time, but has inspiration struck? Perhaps one of the prompts stood out a bit extra and an idea started forming in your mind.

Would love to hear what your plans are.

[dojunie]

i've been checking ur acc everyday since u said that misdial was getting released this week and like I WAS EXPECTING SOME ACTION BC U SAID THERE IS SOME BUT I DEFINITELY WASN'T EXPECTING 1. jeno liking her back all this time 2. him knowing that she liked him and 3. THEM REVEALING THEIR FEELINGS TO EACH OTHER LIKE WHAT JDJSKDKWKJDD i swear ur so good at pacing things out in a way that is not rushed but keeps each chap interesting as a writer myself i'm learning quite a bit. God I can't wait until the next chapter i have no clue what could happen in that one or in the future ones like is there can be a situation where jeno gets jealous bc of sungchan or jaemin which makes him go screw mark and act on his feelings??? (would love to see jealous jen honestly but also idk) WAIT I JUST REALIZED HOW BROKEN JENO MUST HAVE FELT AFTER FINDING OUT ABOUT HER AND JAEM W/ HIS FEELINGS AND HOW IS HE GOING TO FEEL NOW THAT HE KNOWS THAT SHE HAS LIKED HIM FOR SO LONG BUT HOOKED UP W/ JAEM AS A REBOUND OR HAS HE EVEN PIECED THAT TOGETHER YET?? how are the siblings gonna fix their relationship after all this too 💀 and now that they have closure of some sorts how do they end up together like??? does he know she STILL loves him and does he still like her too? and just to clarify jeno didn't act on his feelings bc he knew how protective mark is and was scared of him getting angry if he were to do anything and especially if he hurt her?? am i getting that right? my brain is exploding w/ so many questions pls update us on ur writing progress as much as u can so we can look forward to it hehe (I MEAN THIS IN A take ur time in writing it we'll always wait but when u do happen to work on it pls tell us to keep us on our toes WAY if u get what i mean. take all the time u need ❤️)

-covid anon 🤒

covid anon,,,,,,,,, my dear,,,,, my loaf of toasted bread,,,,,,, when i got this ask i was at work and if you could only see the stupid smile i had on my face the entire rest of the day when i thought about how i was going to respond to this,,,,,,

edit: my answer got crazy fucking long so i am putting this under a readmore goddamn

thank you for the writing compliment my beloved covid anon :'-) i always feel like i'm so shit with pacing so to hear that another writer thinks my pacing is good is just so 🤕 aaaaaaa

AND JEALOUS JENO BC OF SUNGCHAN AND JAEM??? WHAT A THOUGHT. because of the way i always end up characterizing jeno i dont see him as a jealous person, at least not the type to act on his jealousy if he Does feel it, like he's just going to stew on it and stew on it and stew on it instead of actually tell anybody that he's upset.... but that is a concept.... esp if he's jealous of jaem since they're such close friends, it would have good feeling-exposure capabilities.... hmmm.... winky face

to answer how jeno felt when he found out about 'mosquito boy', aka jaemin being mc's rebound in ch2, he was very... confused. by a lot of things. the first being that he didn't even know mc liked jaemin like that at one point (because in his head he doesn't quiiite realize that it was just a hookup, that there were no serious feelings involved- plus, he's always taken note of how much jaemin dotes on mc, so he's always had a suspicion that maybe, just maybe, jaemin might've had some kind of feelings for you too; and this rebound thing only confirms that for him) and he's kind of beating himself up about the fact that he never 'noticed' something going on between mc and jaem at the lake house. the second thing he's confused by is why he is so pissed at jaemin. he assumes he's mad at him for fucking around with mc in the first place when that's marks little sister (like cmon, brocode, wtf) (or maybe jeno is projecting? hmm) (or maybe he's just envious that jaemin had the balls to do something about how he felt regardless of how mark might react, hmmmmm) and he's also definitely mad at jaem for just... not telling him.

and about the siblings LMAO i only realized when i was rereading ch3 for the last time before posting that big brother mark is this huge, looming figure in the fic, mentioned every five seconds, and that basically all the conflict is because of him either directly or indirectly.... but he has literally not showed up in this fic at all 💀 he has not had one line of dialogue in misdial yet (that text in ch1 doesn't count 😭) but i promise you mark's time is coming

and yes, to clarify, you're pretty much exactly right about why jeno never said anything to anyone about how he felt,,,, like mark is his Best Friend, yknow? there are so many different reasons jeno felt it would be better to just keep his mouth shut about 1. knowing mc liked him, and 2. liking her back. the main one is that mark has made it clear how much he admires and cares about his little sister, and while he's never outright condemned any of mcs relationships or crushes or interests, it is so incredibly, painfully obvious that he does not think any human being on earth is good enough for her. (not to mention the fear of fucking up with mc somehow and the wrath mark would put rain upon him if so... with the added depressing edge that jeno knows mark would Hate having to play mediator between him, his best & closest friend, and mc, his literal baby sister)

and i think thats it omg i apologize for responding with such big walls of text, i just loved your message so much LOL all the questions and emotions you had were great and i enjoyed reading and thinking about my answer very much,,,, if you have any more questions i would 1000000% love to answer them 💪

i will try to keep you all updated better this time around, before ch4!! though. i have some interesting news. i will break it here, for you, and for all the other lovelies who have read this far: i have started an outline (and actually started writing)...... an interlude chapter about what happened between jaemin and mc at the lake house >:-D it's going to be written in a standalone oneshot style, so folks who haven't read misdial can still read it, and it's going to be quite... descriptive. about what exactly went down during this alleged rebound. so. if you're into that, jaemin stans rejoice.

anyway i hope this message wasn't a pain in the ass to read and answered most of your questions sufficiently 💪 farewell, covid anon!!!! i love u <3

[doiefy]

blue // na jaemin

“The winter has passed and the spring has come We have withered and our hearts are bruised from longing”

- blue, bigbang

In which one ceases to age until they find their soulmate, with whom they then grow old. In which everyone has moved on without you.

genre: soulmate!au, fluff, angst, slow burn

pairings: jaemin x female reader (written with a female character in mind, but it can easily be gender neutral!), features relationships with other dream members, briefly mentions haechan x jeno

word count: 11.6 k

warnings: language, mentions of alcohol and smoking, mentions of war, mentions of death, discussions of Korea under Japanese occupation, some of the historical references may be inaccurate.

taglist (DM, comment or Ask to be added): @simplicitysbabe Big thank you to @neojaems​ for beta reading this for me !! <333

spotify playlist

Your test comes back blue.

When you rip open the envelope containing your results, you find the little coloured square hidden between pages and pages of lab protocols, testing procedures and other nonsense you know no one actually has the time to read. Then there are the stupid pamphlets, the ones with overtly bright and bubbly messages reassuring people that they’ll find their “special someone” soon, slogans most likely written by people who found their soulmates before they even turned twenty. You scoff, shoving the useless papers back into the envelope and recalling the first time you tested back in 1945, right after the war. The receptionist wrote your results down on a piece of paper and nonchalantly told you to have your emotional breakdown outside.

Now you stare at the blue marking on your paper blankly. It simply means you haven’t aged biologically in ten years, but when you haven’t aged in decades, it means nothing. While the world progresses, you remain frozen in the same body, playing a cruel game with fate. And as with any game that one cannot win, you’ve slowly become bored with it, allowing it to take its course while you sit idle nearby. You feel only disappointed, and not even perplexed or surprised in the slightest. Something about meeting Jaemin just seemed too good to be true; after a lifetime of misfortune and failure, something about the bad news feels… expected. Inevitable. As if unconsciously, you knew he wasn’t the one.

Na Jaemin is not your soulmate. And you spend the walk home contemplating how you’ll tell him this.

When you unlock the door to your shared apartment, you know he’s already home, and earlier than usual: his shoes are placed meticulously on the rack by the door and his jacket is hung up next to the messenger bag he takes to work. The living room smells faintly of the pine and vanilla candle you bought last month, and you smell traces of shampoo and bodywash from the bathroom.

“I’m home!” you call out as you kick your shoes off and put them neatly next to Jaemin’s. There’s a muffled response of your name before the door to your room opens. Then his arms are around you, his face buried in the crook of your neck as he mumbles a tired greeting.

“Bad day?” You ask softly, pushing all your other thoughts to the back of your head. He looks exhausted. His hair is tucked messily under the hood of his navy sweater, still damp from the shower he took earlier. His eyes lack the usual brightness you often find yourself so immersed in, replaced with the fatigue and weariness he almost never brings home.

“I hate this company,” he sighs as you run your fingers through his hair. You feel him relax in your arms a bit. “My boss is a dick, everyone in my department hates each other and the coffee tastes like actual ass. Maybe I should just quit while I still can.”

You frown. “Jaem, you’ve been with them for literally a month. You can’t possibly be thinking about quitting already.”

“A month! A month in and I’m already having mental breakdowns under my desk at lunch. Imagine what will become of me if I spend a year there,” he scowls, but his expression softens when you kiss him reassuringly on the cheek. “Alright, alright, fine, maybe not quit, maybe I’ll just take a long, long, vacation and then retire… Move to the countryside with you…” He trails off dreamily and for a moment, you lose yourself in the fantasy he’s painted for you. The mental image of a quaint house by the ocean is quickly shattered when you remember the test results hidden in your bag. The sunflowers you envisioned surrounding the cottage are blown away in the wind, their bright yellow petals swallowed by the blueness of the sky.

“Oh, you wish,” you laugh, quickly pressing your lips to his in hopes that he won’t see your expression, that he won’t see the sadness and regret you’re fighting to suppress. “Maybe, baby, maybe one day we can do that.”

“Maybe,” he laughs, his face lighting up with the energy and liveliness that has been missing. “But enough about me. How was your day, love?”

“Mm. The same old,” you say, pulling out of his arms so you can finally take your jacket off. You crash into the couch where you fold up your scarf and toss it aside. “Stressful.”

He stares at you for a hard moment, visibly concerned as if he can tell there’s something troubling on your mind. “Is something the matter?” He asks carefully, sitting down next to you. He holds you at arm’s length so he can look at you properly. “Is this about the test?”

“What? Oh, no, not the test. I doubt the results will come in until sometime next week.” The lie slips out easier than it should, and you feel guilt slowly start to twist your insides. Just a white lie, you tell yourself. It can’t hurt anyone but yourself. He’s been through enough today. He’s tired. Not tonight. It can wait. “I’m just tired,” you shrug. “I need some dinner and a nap, then I’ll be all good again. Do we still have anything in the fridge or should we order takeout?”

“I already ordered chicken from Yong’s. I had a feeling that today would be a bad day for the both of us,” Jaemin grins. His smile is smug at first, then endearing when he sees your shock.

You practically pounce on him in excitement, and the two of you go crashing into the couch cushions until you have him pinned beneath you. “Oh my god, I fucking love you, you know that?”

Jaemin groans, curling into himself as he gives you a wounded look. “And that’s how you show your love? By trying to break my bones?”

“Besides the point,” you huff. “You aren’t going to say it back?”

“Yes, of course. I love you too.”

Unsatisfied with his answer, you lower your face so your lips are hovering just inches above his. He looks up at you starry-eyed, his fingers ghosting over your cheeks; you can’t help but notice the way his gaze travels briefly to your lips.

Then you realize how dangerous this is. You know that he’s not the one. You know that you’ll eventually part ways with him when he finds out, no matter how reluctant you’ll feel. Every moment you spend with him like this will come back to haunt you when he’s gone. It will become another reminder of what you’re about to lose, yet here you are, falling deeper into his embrace, intoxicated by his scent and lost in the depth of his eyes. You are only tying more strings between the two of you, strings that will need to be stretched and snapped. You are only making it more painful for the both of you.

But for tonight, you don’t care.

“Say it like you mean it,” you whisper.

He holds your face gently, and those sparks you felt upon your first meeting with him are still there, igniting each time he looks at you, blazing into an open flame when he tells you, “I love you.”

You kiss him with more urgency this time, your lips meeting his in a clash of teeth and tongue. He puts his hands around your waist and pulls you impossibly closer to him. For just a moment, you’re focused on only him and his presence. For just a moment, you forget about everything; the sheet of test results is just another piece of paper in your bag, the blue mark just another colour. Because tonight, he is all that matters to you.

You met Na Jaemin almost three years ago.

Though the details have faded with time, you remember your first conversation well. It began at a friend’s art show beneath the golden glow of the studio lights, the two of you surrounded by brilliant splashes of colour and bold strokes of texture. Renjun had insisted on introducing you to Jaemin before you even arrived at the gallery, and you couldn’t have possibly refused. Your friendship with Renjun goes way back to the 40s, and you often think he knows you better than you know yourself. “I think he could be good for you,” he told you quietly just before leaving to speak with his other guests.

At first, Jaemin seemed timeless. It was as if he didn’t belong to any particular time period, as if he had lived to see several generations rise and fall, but had never risen or fallen with any of them. Dressed elegantly in a fitted turtleneck and a wool coat, he appeared youthful and contemporary; yet the way he spoke hinted at a certain maturity, at wisdom and sagacity. There was something charming about him too, something about the way he recounted events of the past and drew you in with only his words.

Next to a breathtaking oil painting of the sea, you discovered your commonalities. He was almost two decades younger, but like you, had spent his entire life searching for a partner without much success. You were delighted to learn that he had also worked in teaching—though he mentioned changing careers frequently whenever things became too mundane. He was effortlessly intriguing, and every word he spoke was lively and animated. He infused your conversations with colours, painted everything in bright yellows and aquamarines that matched the swirling paint strokes of the artworks around you, left you wanting to know more without even trying.

You left the gallery that night with his number in your coat pocket. Needless to say, Renjun was thrilled.

Weeks passed before you saw him again. Your busy schedules always managed to get in the way of your plans, but the two of you still kept in touch, chatting late into the night and well into the early hours. As the months went by, you dared to hope that maybe he was the one.

You immediately scolded yourself for being naive. With all your past partners, you had been hopeful in the same way, only to be let down in the end. Your test when you were with Donghyuck came back blue, as did the one with Mark. Both have since moved on, found their soulmates and written their happy endings. Even if you still stay in touch and meet up for an occasional coffee, you know that you are only a distant memory to them in some way or another.

The prospect of the same thing happening with Jaemin had never occurred to you—you’d been so caught up in getting to know him, so blinded that you’d completely forgotten. And then you saw him differently. As if he were a flame that could be snuffed out in an instant, a feather that could be sent flying with the slightest breeze, the slightest breath. You mulled over it for weeks and always did so silently, until it finally came up in conversation.

Almost a year had passed since you’d met him. With the summer coming to an end, the two of you had driven down to the Han River where you sat in the open trunk of his car, sharing a can of cheap beer from the convenience store. There were no words, only the faint melody of an old pop song buzzing from your phone and his hand around yours.

“Move in with me,” he said at last, glancing at you expectantly, trying to gauge your reaction. It wasn’t completely out of the blue—you’d been searching for a new apartment for weeks—but it still took you by surprise. “Too fast?” He asked when he registered your shock.

“No, not at all,” you shook your head and squeezed his hand. “Don’t get me wrong Jaem, I’d love to. It’s just, I don’t know about any of this. About us. If we’re actually…”

He hummed a quiet response, his brows furrowing slightly in contemplation. “Soulmates,” he said with a melancholic sigh. “You don’t want to go any further before we know for certain. I understand.”  

You nodded. “It always hurts, you know? You think you’ve finally found them only to realize you’ve been completely wrong the whole time.”

“I know,” he said, and his empathy flooded you with warmth and reassurance. “You always think you’ll be prepared for the next time. You always think it will hurt less as time goes by. But it doesn’t.”

“Exactly.”

You tipped the last of the beer into your mouth; it tasted faintly sweet on your tongue before dissolving into a pleasant bitterness that hit the back of your throat. When you were finished, Jaemin took the empty can and fiddled with the tab, bending it back and forth until it snapped off.

“I want it to be you,” he told you after a few minutes of silence. “I want it to be us.”

“And if we aren’t?”

He kissed you, hard enough for you to see stars. It wasn’t desperate or longing, but it seemed to convey a hundred different thoughts all at once, a hundred different emotions for you to decipher. When he finally pulled away, his voice was thoughtful and he was seemingly lost in a pleasant daydream. “Oh, love, the universe has already cursed us to search eternally. We may as well spend eternity together.”

“Seriously, Jaemin, what if we aren’t?”

The tremor of your voice snapped him out of it. The glimmer of hope disappeared from his pupils and the dream slipped from his hands.

“We’ve been alive for so long,” you continued, trying to keep your voice steady. “I don’t think I can go on like this. What if we aren’t meant to be? What will we do?”

You didn’t regret your time with Donghyuck or Mark or Jungwoo or any of the people you were lucky enough to have met, but you’d watched all of them from afar, watched them grow while you stayed frozen in time. Each new generation that came along was only a reminder of your loneliness. You felt a certain emptiness each time you invited new people into your life, one that deepened when they eventually left you behind. Or worse, when they gave you their pity. You couldn’t stand it when people told you that it was unfair or that you deserved better, all while they lived comfortably with their soulmates. You weren’t jealous, nor could you ever be angry at them for something beyond their control. Your anger was directed at the invisible forces that toyed with the world, the mischievous hands spinning the universe in some strange direction that left only you disoriented.

His expression took on a faint sadness and when he spoke again, his voice was calm, barely a whisper. “Then so be it. If you need to move on, it would be selfish of me to stop you from doing so.” He stared out at the waters wistfully, at the yachts sailing downstream. “And besides, you’re right. Maybe it’s time we settle down… even if it’s not with each other.”

Your birthday came a few months after that night, but you held off on testing. The bus you took home from work passed by one of the labs, but you never got off at the stop, always watched the doors open and close from your seat. The test isn’t that accurate anyways, you told yourself; it could produce only an approximate biological age, so maybe the longer you waited, the better.

But in the end, it was simply an excuse to escape reality, to avoid your confrontation with fate itself.

You moved in with him just before the end of the year.

New Year’s Eve wasn’t a big deal for you (you’d lived through too many for it to be exciting), but you spent the last minutes of the year with him, surrounded by cardboard boxes waiting to be unpacked. Jaemin had still made some sort of effort at festivities despite your indifference: pale pink and gold candles lit around the living room, golden champagne in delicate glasses set on the table.

You were almost asleep when the clock struck twelve, wrapped up in one of his oversized sweaters and a white throw blanket. The celebratory music blaring from the TV was muffled in your ears, a pleasant symphony that lulled you deeper into sleep until Jaemin awoke you with a kiss.

“Happy New Year, Y/N.”

“Happy New Year, Jaem,” you mumbled, a smile ghosting your lips as you focused on the comfort you felt in his arms; on the new year, on your new home, new hope.

You know something’s wrong.

Jaemin doesn’t come out to greet you, even after you announce your arrival. He’s home—his shoes and coat are put away neatly like any other day—yet it’s deathly silent, terribly still. No music playing in the living room, no voice down the hallway. Only the occasional chirp from your broken smoke detector, which you’ve been meaning to fix for weeks. As you bend down to unlace your boots, you can’t help but worry.

You find him in your shared bedroom, sitting cross-legged on the comforter. The sun has almost set and the shadows stretch across the room, blanketing him in darkness and masking his expression with ambiguity. He doesn’t move when you turn on the lamp on the bedside table. He doesn’t move when you sit next to him.

There’s a familiar sheet of paper in his hands.

“Jaem, I…”

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

It isn’t accusatory or hostile; his voice is laced with nothing but sadness, yet you feel so much guilt, guilt that closes around your throat and squeezes the air out of your lungs, leaving you breathless. You kept it from him for days, and now this is the way he must find out about it. From a piece of paper you were careless enough to leave where he might find it. From a piece of paper detailing the DNA extracted from a sample of your blood. You should have told him.

“I didn’t know how to,” you let out a shaky breath. “I didn’t mean to.”

“Are you serious?” There it is, the cold edge that begins creeping into his voice as he stares down at you. He flicks a finger in the direction of the date printed at the top of the paper. “It’s been a week, Y/N. You kept this from me for a week. Why?”

“I just couldn’t bring myself to tell you, okay?” It comes out sharper than you intended; you immediately begin to drown in guilt as soon as you see Jaemin’s expression fall. You didn’t mean to lash out, and now you make up for it by taking his hands in yours. They're ice cold. “Look, the day I found out, you were already tired from work. I didn’t want to bring it up and make everything worse—”

“So you lied. Said the results hadn’t come in yet,” he says flatly and you rush to defend yourself, only to realize that he’s right.

“I’m sorry.”

The rest of your words don’t come. With a tired exhale, you bury your head in your hands, too overwhelmed to say anything else. You can only hope that he’ll understand, that he’ll empathize and that he’ll forgive you, even if you don’t exactly believe you deserve any of it right now. You hold back the tears. Only when he pulls you into his arms do they fall. He takes your hands, gently pulling them away from your face so he can wipe your tears despite your protests. There’s no coldness in his expression now, only concern.

“I needed time to process everything,” you continue, but you choke on the words. “I couldn’t even accept it myself, I couldn’t—”

“I know, love,” he says quietly as his thumb brushes against your cheek. “I know. It’s alright.”

Your silent sniffles turn into unrestrained sobs as he pulls you into his embrace, your pent-up emotions finally released in the form of silvery streams on your cheeks. You aren’t sure how much time passes. The sun meets the horizon in a hazy line of faint pink and orange. The sky darkens. Outside, the city lights up in a multitude of hues, the amber light from the street below seeping into your room. The minutes go by, but Jaemin never lets go of you until your tears have run dry.

“Better?” He asks, albeit his voice is shaky, his gaze trembling when he looks up at you. You nod.

“We’ll figure this out,” his eyes seem to say. You can tell he’s just as terrified as you are, just as unsure and as lost. Though for now, you simply hold each other. You say nothing about the paper that lays discarded on the floor or what it entails, even if you both feel the need to address it, to face its implications. In this moment of brokenness, neither of you have the strength to do so.

You eventually collect yourselves. You make dinner and force yourselves to eat before passing a meaningless hour in front of the TV. You clean up, wash up. Sleep early in preparation for tomorrow. Jaemin never leaves your side.

“Where do we go from here?” You whisper into the darkness of your bedroom.

“Tomorrow, love,” you hear him say just before slipping into unconsciousness, into restless sleep.

According to Lee Donghyuck, the chances of meeting your soulmate are 1 in 10 000. Or at least, scientifically. Theoretically. Donghyuck was a man of logic and reason, and had your lives not revolved around soulmates like the earth revolved around the sun, perhaps he wouldn’t have believed in fate at all.

“Remove fate from the equation,” Donghyuck mumbled to himself thoughtfully, jotting a few numbers down on a paper napkin. “And let’s assume your soulmate is around your age.”

“Can’t you rule that one out too?” You pointed out,  but he was too busy, already lost in his thoughts.

“If your soulmate is determined at birth and instantly recognizable at first sight… And they’re actually alive somewhere in the world…”

You watched the quick movements of his blue pen with intrigue. He spun the pen restlessly, allowing its barrel to cross over and under and between his fingers, at times so quickly that it became nothing but a blur of colour. Finally, he scribbled a final verdict and inked two definitive circles around it. “If fate hadn’t been so kind, the chances would have been one in ten thousand. One lifetime out of ten thousand.”

“That slim? Ten thousand lifetimes, that’s nearly impossible,” you said, skeptical but amused at his train of thought nonetheless. You took the napkin from him and looked over his calculations, though some of the numbers were too big for you to check without a calculator. You trusted that Donghyuck had done them correctly though. “You know, if you told that to someone who’d spent a century searching for their soulmate, they’d probably beat you up. You’re lucky I like you.”

He giggled. “We’re lucky it’s only hypothetical.” He took the napkin from you and crumpled it, smudging the neon blue ink on the tips on his fingers.

With Donghyuck, things were simpler. He was young, young enough to not be in a hurry, young enough to speak his thoughts so freely. He never pitied you or worried about offending you, and he never treated you as if you were out of place among the new generations. He offered you perspective. You knew that you weren’t meant for each other, but you were still content to spend your time with each other. To wait together.

“So… I might have found a new place.”

You don’t miss the surprise on Jaemin’s face when you tell him over dinner. His eyes widen a bit in curiosity, his brows arching upwards and his mouth falling slightly agape. He sets his fork down against his plate, folding his hands together the way he does when he’s deep in thought.

“Already?” He inquires. Maybe you imagine a hint of disappointment in his voice, a slight dip in his tone. He looks at you with a sort of sadness, as if trying to imagine what it would be like with you gone, to come home to an empty apartment every night. “Seriously, Y/N, you’re welcome to stay if you need to. We said we would take the changes slowly.” His words aren’t just out of consideration for you.

More than a month has gone by silently, and within that time, the frigid cold of winter has finally given way to spring. Nothing has really changed when you think about it, as if your test results are meaningless. And you suppose that they have become just that, a meaningless scrap of paper at the bottom of the recycling bin in the kitchen. Jaemin still holds you the same way, though his touches are just a little bit more fleeting. Your conversations still extend late into the night, though they feel just slightly melancholic. You hang onto his every word even while telling yourself not to, that maybe there is no point in doing so when everything is already coming to an end.

“I don’t know if I’ll take it… at least not for sure. And even if I do, I won’t be moving in until April. I just thought I’d tell you ahead of time,” you tell him, reaching across the table to take his hand. “I mean this in the nicest way possible, but I think I need some time alone. So I can adjust to all of this.”

“No, I understand. It’s just a little jarring, you know? Don’t know what it’ll be like without you here.”

“It’s literally only a block away,” you giggle, and he smiles. “I’ll still be here.”

After the coolness of February comes grey skies and a drizzly March, heavy rainfall washing the white snow to grey slush. Eventually, the clouds part across the sky for the sun, allowing the brilliant blue of the sky to peek through. April comes sooner than expected, producing blooms of yellow and white in the flowery courtyards of your new apartment complex, bursts of bright colours along the cobblestone paths.

You stand surrounded by boxes in the middle of your new studio apartment, watching the people pass by on the streets below. The windows are cracked open for air and you can hear the bustle outside, the yells of the street vendors, an occasional shriek of a child’s laughter. The new bedframe and mattress you ordered stand leaning against the wall in the corner, waiting to be assembled. Jaemin stumbles through the door with another box and sets it down before dusting his hands off on his jeans.

“That’s the last one,” he says. He collapses on the couch that the previous owner left behind, out of breath. You sit down next to him, allowing him to rest his head on your lap. He finally looks around, then at you. “Everything you hoped for?”

You nod happily. “I’ll miss having you around though,” you chuckle, playing with the soft strands of his hair, freshly dyed—after losing a drunken bet to Renjun a week ago, he reluctantly let the latter bleach and tone his hair bright silver. But you think it suits him; it accentuates the darkness of his eyes and paleness of his skin, gives him a cold and chic edge offset by the gentleness of his smile.

“I’ll still be here,” he repeats your words from two months ago. “And you’ll be much closer to work, right? No more crazy subway routes and early mornings. At the cost of me being your personal alarm clock, of course.” He grins, and you smack him with a red throw pillow.

“I won’t miss that,” you roll your eyes teasingly.

“Whatever you say, love.” He lifts his head off your lap to press a kiss against your cheek.

You spend the rest of the afternoon with him, unpacking boxes, hanging up clothes, building the bedframe and fitting the mattress with clean sheets so that at least you’ll have somewhere to sleep tonight. When the sun sets, everything is lit in an ethereal glow, and you stare out the floor-length windows, admiring the sky. Jaemin joins you after a moment, wrapping his arms around you as the two of you rock back and forth to the steady rhythm of the music playing from his phone.

When he leaves in the evening, he gives you a final hug, jokingly telling you not to miss him too much. When he’s gone, you find yourself staring out the window once more, at the blocky silhouette of Jaemin’s building a few blocks away. He pointed it out earlier, thrilled that you could see so far from this high up.

You quickly learn that on cloudy days, it is nothing but a smudge of grey in the distance.

While Donghyuck always tried to ease your worries with reason and strokes of pen ink on his skin, Mark took you on long drives around the city, hoping that the wind blowing through your hair would clear your mind.

On late nights when you couldn’t sleep, you often found yourself in the passenger seat of his 1975 Hyundai Pony, listening to static-laced 80s rock music while he drove you around the streets of Seoul. He would always roll the windows down in the summer and watch the contentment on your face, one hand around yours while the other guided the wheel.

Mark Lee was even older than you—and with all the wars and tragedies he’d lived through, he understood what it felt like to be kept awake by the nightmares. To be kept awake by thoughts of loved ones being blown to bits, to be haunted with memories of the past. With how long he’d been searching for the right person, he knew the urgency you felt and the longing to finally settle down with a soulmate. He understood.

The stories he told you were woven between puffs of cigarette smoke and gentle kisses on your forehead. He told you about Canada and the mountains that surrounded Vancouver, where he’d spent some time in the 40s. He told you about his family, about his brother’s grandchildren who looked older than he did. It was strange, he’d admitted with a small laugh and sadness in his smile.

The two of you often pointed out buildings along the side of the road, reminiscing what stood in their place before the bulldozers and big trucks rolled in. Just down the street from his apartment, the old drive-in cinema was being replaced by an upscale theatre. Next to it, a park was being cleared for a new shopping centre. Even the studio he’d rented out last summer had been demolished so a new entertainment agency could build its empire. Once in a while, he would drive by and stare ruefully at the construction site—the classical compositions he’d once recorded there were being replaced by a new type of music, with catchy beats and pretty pop stars dressed in shiny outfits.

His music had been drowned out by a new industry, and likewise, many of the things you remembered from your childhood have been lost to time. Talking about the past with him helped you remember. It was a sort of reassurance even as you moved on.

Mark eased a bit of your pain, staying out with you until the early hours of morning to make sure that you were alright. The next morning, he would almost always call to ask if you’d slept okay, unless there was an issue with the old landline phone in his office. All concept of time disappeared when you were with him, along with your memories and the demons haunting your dreams. But eventually, he would drop you off at home and bid you goodnight, leaving you to watch him drive away. Eventually, the night came to an end.

He couldn’t stay with you the whole night, nor could he stay with you forever.

Your evenings are often interrupted by Jaemin’s messages asking you to come over. Sometimes he says that he misses you, or he wants to see you for dinner. Other times, he kisses you breathless against the closed door as soon as you’ve stepped inside, always with an unmatched fervour and urgency as if you might slip right through his grasp and disappear.

Tonight, however, it’s neither.

It’s half past midnight when your phone is set off in a series of quick vibrations. Wrapped in nothing but a towel with your hair still dripping, you type in a reply, hesitate, press send. You get changed, slipping into a pair of jeans and an oversized T-shirt before grabbing your keys.

Jaemin is uncharacteristically quiet when he opens the door for you, his gaze downcast so you can’t see his expression. He’s deteriorating; you can see it in the way he turns his back to you after locking the door, the way he walks inside with a halfhearted invitation for you to follow.

“What’s wrong?” You ask when you’ve sat down across from him.

“I think I found them,” he mumbles and you notice how he averts your gaze. “My soulmate, I mean. I think I found her.”

“Wait, then why with the long face? Jaem, that’s great—”

He cuts you off with a sharp bark of emotionless laughter. His expression turns bitter when he pulls his sleeve up to reveal a mark along his wrist: two linear streaks of dark purple that twist together like the centre petals of a rose. He stares at it, almost with contempt. Apart from the standardized DNA tests, markings are the only other way to identify soulmates, though they almost never show. No one has any proper explanation for them and you have no explanation for why Jaemin has one now.

“Don’t get me wrong, I think she’s great. She’s smart. She’s funny. We have the same mark so I know it’s her,” he says shakily. “But god, I must have really fucked up in a past life to deserve this.”

You feel dread. It hits you all at once, because the way Jaemin speaks is so distant and unnerving, as if he’s lost himself in a trance and forgotten all about you. You’ve seen this dazed look before, only twice, when he was truly distressed and truly lost. This isn’t like him.

He found her. He should be happy. You should be happy for him. He should be happy.

“What is it?”

“I think I’m broken. Something’s wrong with me.”

“What do you mean?” You ask, and you try to keep the urgency out of your voice for his sake. He doesn’t say anything. “Jaemin?”

“I don’t feel anything when I’m with her. Nothing.”

You don’t register his words. They don’t make any sense to you. They are barely coherent. No, you think. That can’t be possible.

“Maybe we rejected each other in a past life and then both offed ourselves. Or maybe this is just the universe’s way of saying ‘fuck you.’ Maybe—”

“Stop that,” you tell him firmly. “Whatever this is, there has to be an explanation for it. Marks don’t just appear out of nowhere, right?” You pause to take a shaky breath, suddenly realizing that your words aren’t meant to comfort only him. “We can look into it. We can figure out what’s going on. This is the 21st Century, remember?”

“But what am I even supposed to tell her?” He demands, his tone exasperated and his brows furrowed together. “‘I know you’ve been looking for me for your whole life, but I can’t see you as anything more than a friend, sucks for you’? What do I do, spend the rest of my life drowning in guilt and self-pity because I couldn’t love her the way she wanted me to? Because I could only pretend?”

You have no answers for him. Perhaps he hasn’t felt anything for her because he hasn’t let go of you. Perhaps it really was a mistake, a freak accident in the cosmos that put the wrong marks on the wrong people, designating a pair that was never meant to be. Your thoughts run wild, but you can’t put anything into words for him. Even if you could, you don’t think you would have the strength to say anything aloud.

Instead, you hold him in your arms, wiping away the tears of frustration that have formed at the corners of his eyes, running your fingers through his hair. You can only hope that his soulmate will do the same for him some day, perhaps in some future where the cruel forces watching over you cease their endless games. Genuinely, you hope.  

The tone goes off a third time. You glance at the clock across the room: 11 AM. He has to be up by now, you think to yourself as your fingers continue drumming a repetitive rhythm onto the kitchen counter.

“Hello?”

Just before the automated voice can tell you to leave a voicemail, he picks up. Donghyuck’s voice is groggy, as if he’s just woken up—or maybe he’s just about to go to bed. With his disaster of a sleep schedule, you can never be sure.

“Hi, it’s me.”

“Oh hey, you, I know you.” You hear him chuckle on the other end of the line. “How are you, Y/N? I haven’t heard from you in ages.”

“I’m alright, the usual, I guess. How about you? How’s Jeno?”

“Jeno adopted another cat because he’s fucking insane, so now we have three little furballs running around the house. But yeah, it’s going great! So great,” he drawls with a familiar bite of sarcasm. You smile to yourself. “If he brings home another one because ‘Oh Hyuck, look it’s so cute, can we keep it?’ I will literally choke him in his sleep. Anyways, what’s going on? You never call me.”

“You never pick up,” you huff, earning a small laugh from him. “Okay, I wanted to ask you something. What do you know about soulmate marks?”

Thoughtful silence. “Not much. I mean, I’ve got my theories, but nothing has really been proven. Why, did you get one?”

“No, not me. Jaemin.”

“Oh, Y/N… then that means…”

“It’s alright, don’t concern yourself with me, Donghyuck. I’m more worried about him, honestly.”

“Hm?”

“He found his soulmate recently, but it’s not exactly… it’s not going as expected, let's just say that. He said he feels almost nothing when he’s with her, and to make things worse, apparently now it’s mutual. God, Donghyuck, they’re so awkward with each other, it physically hurts me.”

Donghyuck is silent again, and you hear the faint clicking of his keyboard. You can almost see his contemplative gaze and the soft blue glow of his computer screen lighting his face. “Did they know each other at all before the marks appeared?”

“Yeah, they were coworkers.”

He hums. “Okay… that could be why. Marks have a tendency to appear if soulmates have been around each other for extended periods of time without realizing it. It’s like nature’s way of telling them that the person they’re looking for is right in front of them. As for why they haven’t felt anything for each other? I dunno… reincarnation can really fuck with people. Any previous sentiments for your soulmate stick with you as you pass on, even if you’re both reborn completely different people.”

I must have really fucked up in a past life to deserve this. Jaemin’s words echo in your head.

“Obviously, there’s still opportunity to fix things,” Donghyuck adds quickly before you can get too lost in your thoughts. “It just takes time. Honestly, I wouldn’t be too concerned”

“I know, I know,” you groan. “I’m just upset that after everything he’s gone through, this is the shit he has to deal with.”

“Yeah. I can’t even imagine.” He pauses. “You know, a lot of people would just run off if they were in the same situation. He’s lucky to have you.”

You give a breathless laugh and shrug. “I feel like it’s the least I can do.”

“You never give yourself enough credit,” Donghyuck says, a hint of melancholy to his voice. There’s a sudden noise in the distance that cuts him off, and he curses beneath his breath. “Shit, the new cat’s not trained yet and I think she’s doing something stupid in the kitchen. Jeno will kill me if anything happens to her.”

You suppress a giggle. “Go ahead. We can catch up some other time.”

“Of course. See you, Y/N.”

The line clicks.

If Donghyuck taught you to be hopeful and Mark taught you to be strong, Jungwoo taught you to be brave.

Kim Jungwoo was your first love, and in many ways, you consider him to be irreplaceable. Perhaps it had simply been the result of young naivety back then, but you thought he was unlike any other person you’d ever met. In hindsight, he was different. A bright light dancing his way into your life when you were only a child in the 30s, a free-spirited boy who went where he pleased despite living under such an oppressive regime.

The Kims lived only a few doors down. You frequently saw the boys in their front yard kicking a beat-up soccer ball back and forth between them. Jungwoo was the middle child, and he sat right in front of you in class, his back always perfectly straight against his wooden chair so as to avoid the teachers’ chastisement. He was a quiet boy, and he never said a word unless it was to answer a question. But even then, his voice was small—not exactly shy or scared, just quiet. He quickly learned to raise his voice when the teacher hit him on the back of the hand with a ruler and demanded he speak up, when the wood scraped apart the skin of his knuckles.

At the time, when Japanese was all too foreign on your tongue and you struggled to understand anything taught in class, you thought he was a genius. He always had the right answers when he was called upon and there wasn’t a trace of an accent in either of his languages. Not that you heard him speak Korean much; you didn’t dare speak it unless you were hidden in your own homes, where your parents could discuss the uprisings without having to worry about the police roaming freely outside. Though, they still spoke in hushed voices as if anyone could hear them, as if terrified for what could happen if someone did hear.

The first time you spoke to Jungwoo properly was in middle school. After a humiliating incident at school that left you in tears, he ran to catch up with you on the way home and spoke to you in timid Korean, offering to help. You were still teary-eyed and beyond upset, but you let him guide you through your homework. He rambled to you about the Japanese grammar you couldn’t understand and explained the mistakes you’d made for your teacher to lash out at you the way she had. It didn’t stop you from making the same mistakes the next day, but at least he was patient, unlike the adults at school.

“You’re not stupid,” he told you one afternoon on the way home. Again, you were in tears.

“But the teachers think I am,” you grunted. “And I feel stupid. I can’t understand a word they say. I never have the right answers. Everything I say is wrong. If that’s not stupidity, I don’t know what it is.”

“Y/N, all we do at school is memorize meaningless facts that don’t really matter,” he replied with a shrug. “Just because you can’t shove all that information into your head doesn’t mean that you’re stupid. Look at Doyoung. He was failing school but he’s still one of the smartest people I know. He just… learns differently.”

“So? That doesn’t make me smart either. They still think—”

Jungwoo scoffed. “Who cares what they think? I think you’re wonderful, and they’re the real freaks. Miss Ito, especially.” He wrinkled his nose. “She smells funny.”

“Hey, be nice, Jungwoo,” you chided, but you were laughing. He was effortlessly funny and it was such a pleasant contrast to the way he acted at school. He was always so disciplined and perfect when the adults were watching, but he seemed to let loose around you. It made you feel… special, in a way. Validated, accepted. Something you never felt at school.

You walked home with him almost everyday from then on. You became inseparable, even when your school shut down and sent all the students to gender-segregated schools, even when your parents worried that you were spending too much of your time with him instead of studying. Even when war arrived.

The Second World War plunged your lives into darkness; Jungwoo quickly became the only light to guide you. He was there for you while your parents were away, while they laboured in the factories making helmets and guns and bullets so that they could at least put food on the table. He was there when the light at the end of the tunnel went dim, though he was miles away from home.

Jungwoo had never struck you as a fighter or rebel, even if he had the physique of a soldier. He had the drive and the courage and the steel to fight, but you only saw gentleness in his monthly letters to you. The last letter you received from him still sits in a drawer somewhere, the last words he wrote sealed in a plastic envelope so that they won’t fade away.

You took the test a few months after the war ended, only because he had pleaded with you to do so. Even if I don’t make it home, he wrote to you in the same curving script he’d used to teach you years ago. Promise me.

When the receptionist gave you a piece of paper with an X marked next to your name—there were no colour indicators back then, only X’s and hollow circles—a part of you felt relief that you couldn’t quite explain. Another part of you was disgusted, convinced that you were being selfish and apathetic. You thought that maybe you had no regard for him; that you only cared for yourself and a stranger you were still searching for. He’d risked his life to join the rebel army, fought on the frontlines with the Allies, and you repaid him with nothing.

It would take you years to come to the conclusion that your reaction was only natural. It would take you years to heal and start seeing other people. In due time, you would stop frequenting the church in your hometown and your fingers would cease to brush against the memorial stone in the yard, upon which his name was carved. Just one name among many.

Jaemin’s hands are all over you: in your hair, around your throat, pushing you against the wall as he kisses you. His fingers tangle into your hair and he pulls on the strands, forcing your head back a bit so he can continue trailing his lips over your neck and collarbones.

“We can’t be doing this,” you tell him when you manage to pull away. His arms come around your waist anyways and he buries his head in the crook of your neck. You can smell the alcohol on his breath, and you glance behind him to see empty soju bottles on the kitchen counter.

“I’m not with Jieun,” he snarls. “Besides, like I said. I think we’re fucked. We aren’t meant to be.”

“Don’t say that,” you hiss, taken aback by his sudden coldness. “This isn’t fair to her.”

“It’s mutual, remember? I bet she’s out there doing the exact same thing with some other guy. She doesn’t need me.”

“Jaem—”

“We’re fucked. She told me she doesn’t need me, and I told her the same.”

You’re horrified. “You did what?”

“Hilarious, isn’t it? We had our first fight, and we aren’t even together yet.” He scoffs, pushing a hand through his hair in irritation. “Some type of soulmate.”

You’ve never heard him talk like this. He’s out of his mind. He’s lost it. “Fuck, Jaem, how much did you drink?”

“Not enough to feel better, clearly,” he snaps.

“Alcohol and whatever this is between the two of us isn’t going to make you feel any better. This isn’t going to fix your problems.”

“Then what do you want me to do?!” His words are sharp, his expression hard when he glares at you. “You tell me to move on and to give her a chance and to stop doing whatever—” he motions frantically. You’ve never seen him so wild, so out of control, and you’ve almost never seen him lash out at anyone like this. “—whatever the fuck this is, but do you even know how it feels? Do you even care?”

A sharp intake of breath, and then the world is crashing down around you.

The feelings you fought to suppress re-emerge, rising up to crush you and force you into relapse. Doubt. Regret. Guilt. The little voice in the back of your head is a raging monster now, and it shouts at you, screaming at you in a blind rage. Telling you that you’re heartless and self-absorbed and indifferent, everything you believed you were when Jungwoo died. Reinstating what you know isn’t true. You know he doesn’t mean it. You know that it’s just alcohol fueling the words spewing from his lips and nothing more, but they still bring back unpleasant memories, a sense of dread you can’t shake.

He realizes, albeit a bit too late. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to—”

If you knew how much it hurts me to watch you do this to yourself. If you knew how much it hurts me knowing that there’s only so much I can do for you. “Don’t. I get it.”

For a few seconds, the room is silent, save the ticking of the clock behind you. It reminds you briefly of a memory that you can’t quite grasp, like a flash of deja vu before you spiral back down to the present reality where you stand in cold, frigid silence. The broken smoke detector chirps.

“I should go,” you say at last. You go to grab your keys from where you left them on the counter but he quickly stops you, his hand coming around yours. You look up at him in irritation, pulling away sharply.

“It’s late,” he says shakily, almost pleading. “You shouldn’t walk home at this hour. Not alone.”

“I’ll call a cab,” you shrug before slipping into your sweater and pulling on your shoes. You bid him goodnight and leave him dumbfounded in the living room.

You return home to a sleepless light and endless thoughts in a cold bedroom. A broken record replays his words in your head again and again, until you see Jungwoo’s face floating above you in the darkness. His features are faint, like wisps of smoke that loosely form sad eyes and lips pulled downwards in a frown. And then he’s the one asking, “Do you even care?”

You have no answer for the annoying voice in your head. You stare at the lines of light drifting across the expanse of the ceiling, wide awake as the sky brightens outside.

“How long will you be gone?”

It was the 3rd of August 1995. You knew because the next day would mark 50 years since Jungwoo’s death. The next day, you would be going back to your hometown and laying flowers on the altar in the Kim family home, revisiting the memorial you’d left behind when you moved to Seoul.

You shrugged as Mark passed you his lighter. The old zippo produced a small spark between your fingers, and then the sting of smoke was filling your mouth and nose. You didn’t smoke regularly—you’d stopped years ago—but you sure as hell felt like you needed one tonight.

“I dunno,” you said, taking a long drag from the cigarette. “A couple more days after the ceremony? If I stay any longer, Doyoung might get upset.“

“Upset?”

“He doesn’t like seeing me. Said I bring back bad memories. I think I remind him of Jungwoo too much.”

Mark grimaced. “Well it’s scary, seeing a childhood friend who hasn’t aged in fifty something years… Must he like seeing a ghost.” He paused, tucking a stray piece of your hair behind your ear so that he could see your face. “My nephews feel the same way about me.”

“You remind them of something?” You asked.

“Their father, I guess,” he explained. “My brother… wasn’t the most understanding of them when they were younger. Whenever they see me, all they can think of is their childhood and his abusiveness.”

“Doesn’t it bother you?”

He took a moment of contemplative silence “No, not really. I mean, maybe it did at first. But it’s not like I go out of my way to avoid them just because of the memories they associate with me. That would be unfair for me.”

“It would be,” you agreed.

“So then why avoid Doyoung? What he thinks of you is beyond your control. If you remind him of painful memories, that isn’t exactly your fault.”

You sighed. “I don’t know. I just feel like staying out of his way might help him heal. Maybe it’ll help him move on from everything he’s trying to forget.”

“Oh, Y/N.” Mark took your hand with a breathless laugh. His smile was both sad and endearing, as if he were in awe of you—what for, you weren’t too sure until he murmured, “You’re too kind sometimes.” He paused to exhale, smoke escaping his lips and bleeding into the atmosphere, dispersing into the starry sky. He stared into the sky for a few moments, silent.

“But it’s not always up to you to heal their wounds. At some point, they have to learn to heal themselves.”

“What the hell happened to him?”

Jaemin looks like a mess. His hair is disheveled and swept messily all over the place. His skin is unhealthily pale, unusually warm to the touch beneath your fingertips. You can tell he’s had a little too much to drink; he sits on the couch in a daze, his eyes fixated on an invisible point in front of him as if searching for something that is no longer there. He yelps in pain when you wipe at the cut on his lip.

“We bumped into a couple guys at the bar. One of them took a swing at him,” Renjun explains as he passes you the bottle of disinfectant. You carefully apply a drop to a cotton swab. “And it didn’t help that he was also drunk. Thank god Lucas was there to break up the fight.”

“I wasn’t drunk,” Jaemin groans in protest. “Just tipsy.”

“Tipsy? You couldn’t even tell me Y/N’s number.”

“I don’t remember anyone’s number.”

“Well, you couldn’t tell me your own name either. Got any excuse for that one, smartass?”

You ignore their bickering and continue cleaning the cut on Jaemin’s cheek, holding him firmly by the shoulder so he doesn’t move. The cotton quickly turns light pink between your fingers. You briefly examine the red marks along his jaw where he’d been hit, frowning. Jaemin has never been one to get into fights and especially not while under the influence, but the bruises on his cheek and his knuckles suggest otherwise. Hell, he rarely even gets drunk, but it’s becoming more and more frequent, to the point where Renjun makes sure to watch over him whenever they go out together. He’s derailing, you think to yourself as you brush his hair into some sort of order.

“Okay, let’s get you to bed.” You put his arm around your shoulder and help him up to his feet, nearly staggering beneath his weight. Renjun rushes over to help you move him into the bedroom.

“You should probably go home. It’s getting late,” you tell him when Jaemin has been settled in bed. You glance at the clock hanging in the kitchen as you clean up the first aid kit on the table: almost 2 AM. “I’ll stay with him… make sure he doesn’t do anything stupid.”

“I really tried to keep him away from the alcohol tonight. I swear I turned away for only a second to deal with Yangyang and he— Ugh, I’m so sorry,” Renjun apologizes again, shaking his head. “This whole soulmate ordeal is really getting to him. I’m worried, Y/N.”

“You know how he is. He always figures it out one way or another” you reassure him. “I’ll talk to him again though. Maybe he’ll actually… listen this time.”

“Well, call me if anything happens. I probably won’t be asleep anyways.”

“I will. Thanks, Jun,” you nod appreciatively.

By the time Renjun has gone home and you’ve finished cleaning up, Jaemin is already asleep. He stirs when you switch off the lamp and reaches out for you in the darkness, fingers intertwining with yours. “Stay,” he mumbles, pulling you a bit closer.

“I’m not going anywhere.” You say as you admire the way the moonlight filters in through the windows and draws pale lines across his cheeks. Despite the cuts marking his skin, he looks so much softer now, innocent, in a way. Again, you’re reminded of the Jaemin you met at the art gallery. He was none of this. None of this pent-up frustration released in empty beer bottles, none of these crimson bruises marking his otherwise smooth skin.

“You have to stop doing this to yourself,” you murmur. There’s no reply at first, and you wonder if he heard you at all.

“I’m sorry,” you finally hear his voice: small, feeble in the darkness. His words become more urgent as he keeps speaking, spilling from his lips uncontrollably. “I shouldn’t have said those things about you. I wasn’t thinking. You know I could never mean it.”

You hush him, wrapping him in the security of your arms. A single tear brushes against the back of your hand, then another. “It’s alright,” you assure him as you rub soothing circles against his back. “You were going through a lot. I understand, okay? It’s okay.”

He shakes his head frantically, his tears falling in steady streams now. You let out a low hiss when you see them stain pink with the blood from the wound on his cheek. “Still, that shouldn’t be an excuse. I’ve managed to fuck up everything since all of this started. I hurt Jieun, I hurt Renjun, I hurt you. I can’t even go to work and look at Jieun without feeling like such an idiot and getting mad at myself for being such a child. Without feeling like maybe I deserve this.”

Your heart drops, then shatters into a million pieces at the bottom of a dark abyss.

“Look at me,” you plead as you take his face in your hands. “Look at me, Jaem, please.” He finally lifts his head, his eyes meeting yours in the stillness. All you can see is brokenness, defeat and regret, a look you knew well. It’s an expression that once followed you around for years, appearing in every mirror and reflection you passed by. An innate, intimate part of you that you despised so much until you came to accept it. “Listen to me, Na Jaemin. You are one of the strongest, bravest and kindest people I’ve ever met, and nothing will ever change the way I see you. You don’t deserve any of this bullshit. You don’t deserve this.”

“If you knew what I told her, Y/N,” he lets out a shaky breath. “If you knew what we told each other when we found out neither of us had any feelings for each other… maybe you would think differently of me.”

“If that’s truly what you believe, fix what you broke,” you say firmly. “Apologize to her. Make things right between the two of you, unless you want to go through this all over again in another life. Things will only get worse if you don’t address them now.”

“And if I can’t?”

“If anyone can do it, it’s you, Jaem.” Trembling, you press your lips to his temple. “Whether or not you end up with her, whether or not you think you deserve this, I love you. And that will never fucking change.”

He leans forwards, his forehead touching yours, his nose brushing against yours and his lips just inches from meeting yours. But he never comes any closer, and you feel no urge to close the distance either. Perhaps it’s a sign that both of you are already starting to let go, to drift apart; this moment is nothing romantic or lustful, nothing more than comforting each other in your brokenness. Nothing more than trying to help each other numb the pain.

“I love you.” His voice trembles, but his words are steady, deep-rooted in sureness.

“Then promise me you’ll try, Jaem. You’ll try to set things right, for both our sake.”

“For you, love,” he murmurs, so quietly that you can barely hear him. His voice is lost to the faint rumbling of the air conditioning unit somewhere outside and the distant noises of traffic. “For you, I would do anything.”

You wonder if he’ll remember any of this in the morning. You wonder if he’ll take your words to heart, or if they’ll simply be enveloped in dreams fueled by drunkenness, reduced by sleep to nothing but a blur.

...it’s not always up to you to heal their wounds. At some point, they have to learn to heal themselves

You’ve done everything you can for him, you decide. Even if you continue to walk by his side, the rest is up to him.

One Saturday morning, Jaemin shows up at your door dressed in black jeans and a button-down shirt, his hair swept up neatly. There’s a kind of brightness to him; it’s not necessarily hope or excitement, but certainly a change from what you’ve seen the last couple of weeks. He’s meeting Jieun for lunch, he tells you nervously. He wants to see you before he goes. You tell him you’re proud of him. That genuinely, you admire him.

The next time you see him, it’s at a floral shop. He’s in the middle of picking out flowers, and he flushes when he sees you. A single rose seemed too cliche, he tells you sheepishly, and asks your opinion. He thinks she’ll prefer something a bit more unique but equally tasteful, equally elegant. You recommend orchids or gerberas. They last longer than roses, but they convey the same message. When he’s gone, you buy a small vase of irises for your apartment; your living room needs a bit of colour.

Weeks later, you find a small package in the mail: a parting gift, you realize when you tear open the padded envelope. It’s nothing too special, nothing fancy or expensive—just a piece of blue glass wrapped in silver accents, attached to a delicate chain that you loop around your neck. When you hold the pendant up to the sun, its blue tint shatters into infinite colours, tossing specks of luminous yellow and orange all over your bedroom. More than just a singular colour, it reflects the other hues around you. And for just a brief moment, you think you see your own reflection.

You watched Jaemin move on just as you’d watched Mark and Donghyuck: from afar, with reserve but at the same time, excitement. Close enough for him to know that you were still there for him, but allowing some sort of distance that grew as the days melded into weeks and then months.

For the most part, he seemed to be alright. His texts were always cheerful, covered in happy emoticons—he used them when he was too giddy with excitement to type actual words. “We figured things out,” was all he said one night, and it was all you needed to hear to know that they’d be okay.

You started to notice the fondness he’d developed for her; it was subtle at first, just a hint of affection in his voice when he told you about her over the phone. Though slowly, it developed into something more. It was just as Donghyuck said: time had forged a relationship out of nothing, out of empty words and empty emotions, growing a garden from a barren piece of wasteland.

The first time you spoke to Kim Jieun, it was over the phone during one of your calls with Jaemin. She’d chimed in on your conversation at some point to say hi, and the way she spoke almost reminded you of Donghyuck: bright, cheery, a little sarcastic in a playful manner. You quickly learned that she was easy-going though brutally honest at times, well-mannered yet well-humoured. Most importantly, she wasn’t judgemental, and she didn’t treat you any differently from Jaemin’s other friends just because you’d been with him previously.

Of course, there was still a sense of yearning, a bittersweetness whenever you saw the two of them together. Your fingers always danced fleetingly along the screen of your phone before pressing like on the photos he posted to his social media. You saw him less and less, only occasionally running into him at the bakery you used to frequent together or at a friend gathering. For the most part, you let the past stay in the past. He seemed happy. And honestly, you were happy for him.

“I told you he’d be fine,” Donghyuck murmured to you at one of Jeno’s rampant parties, once most of the guests had trickled out for the night. The two of you sat on the balcony, watching everyone stumble around in their drunken stupor: Jeno was passed out on the couch with two cats sitting perched on his chest. Renjun was trying to braid flowers into Jaemin’s hair, which he’d recently bleached yet another shade lighter to match Jieun’s platinum locks. Out of the corner of your eye, you watched Chenle and Jisung exchange a few bills and bicker over a bet—Chenle was still in denial that Jisung had won, apparently.

“I didn’t doubt you for a second, Hyuck.”

“But you were worried,” he grinned smugly.

“Why wouldn’t I be worried?” You sighed and knocked back the rest of your wine before motioning for him to pass you the bottle. You swiftly poured yourself another glass. “If I couldn’t have my happy ending, at least I wanted him to have his. As… cliche as that sounds.”

Donghyuck raised a brow at you. “What’s to say that you won’t get yours too? They can’t keep you waiting forever. The longest it ever took for someone to find their soulmate was 241 years.”

“Goddamn, are you trying to make me feel better or worse?”

“Better, of course! Okay, what I’m trying to say is that it’s rare for anyone to wait longer than two centuries. If everyone lived for up to three hundred years, we’d have a lot of dictators and other crazies running the world. The universe would spontaneously combust.”

“I know I’m barely even halfway there, but come back to me when I set a new world record,” you rolled your eyes, to which he responded with a small chuckle.

“So what now?” He glanced at Jaemin, who sat across the room with his eyes half-closed, an empty red solo cup in his hands. Jieun had her head on his shoulder, rambling drunkenly about something to Renjun. If you hadn’t known any better, you would have thought she’d been a part of the group all along; she fit in so seamlessly, and it warmed your heart to see her getting along with everyone.

“I don’t know,” you shrugged. “Nothing for now, I guess. Just waiting.”

“Whoever it is, I’m sure they’ll be worth it,” he hummed in reply.

“You think so?”

“People say that the longer you wait, the better. It’s all in your head, of course, but they have a point.”

You sighed, lifting your head to gaze at the stars hanging overhead. “I suppose they do. Maybe someday I get to find out.”

He patted you on the shoulder reassuringly. “You’ll figure it out. You always have.”

Donghyuck left a little later to get a drunk Jeno to bed, and then you had only the quietness of night to keep you company. Your mind drifted and you contemplated his words, repeating them silently to the wind. The night sky replied with nothing but a gentle breeze against your skin.

You could be patient, you thought as you watched the others inside. You fished the pendant out from beneath your shirt and stared at the reflection in the glass. It was as if you were grasping a piece of the night sky between your fingers: the stars and a crescent moon captured in a single, translucent oval. In the dark, the pendant appeared deep indigo, not too different in hue from the four coloured markings you’d acquired over the years.

But the sun would rise in due time, you thought to yourself mirthfully. Beneath the brightness of morning, you’d hold a different colour in your hands. You tucked the necklace back into the fabric of your shirt. You could wait.

read the epilogue, yellow

[8unnieswrld]

Dialogue 35 & 43 + scenario 10 with Jaemin pleaseeee

Request 35 + 43: "how am i meant to cover these?" + "lol you're really gonna wine and dine me after rearranging my guts"

Word count: 1.7k

Genre: fluff, angst (IF U SQUINT)

Warnings: ITS SUGGESTIVE, im honestly bad at smut and no lovely people on here deserve bad smut. That shit gotta be sensual or its a bad time...

A/N: Thank you so much for requesting! I hope its to your liking 💖 I will be crossing off each prompt as they are requested to avoid any double ups 💖

You had only known him for a couple of moths, max being generous.You groan loudly as you feel Jaemin’s warm body detach from yours causing goosebumps to rise to your skin.

“No no no no cold cold cold” you cry, pulling the blankets that were bundled at your feet over your body.

“Calm down baby, I'm just grabbing a warm cloth and some water for you” he whispers, placing a kiss on your forehead before exiting the room. You lay there patiently waiting for your “husband” to come back, slowly drifting off to sleep after having used all of your energy to keep up with Jaemins crazy sex drive.

In your 25 years or so of living, you had never even thought about the possibility of marrying someone introduced to you a week prior to your so-called wedding. It was such a foreign thought in your mind, clearly not for your parents or your husband’s though as they had no issue announcing it abruptly. It seemed unfair for your parents to even agree to letting their only daughter marry off into another family at such an early age, just to settle some family drama on their behalf. Jaemin was only a couple of years older than you, working in the same career field as you. You felt odd marrying someone who you had just technically met, not even able to harvest feelings for him beforehand. You didn't hate him or anything, you also just didn't know him all too well, feeling bad that he was also forced into this situation while at the top of his career.

Even though legally married you both had a very casual relationship, both not really committed enough to even call it one. However, due to yours and Jaemin’s crazy sex drive, after a night of very drunk talking you both agreed to relieve sexual tension with one another as a way to keep sane as you were both very stressed people. In the few months of living together, the blonde hair stranger turned into a pink hair friend who was now your good blue hair friend with benefits even though technically married to each other. The summer of your marriage changed like the colour of his hair into a cold winter as you both grew comfortable with each other, picking up one another's traits.

You feel the bed dip a bit, blanket shuffling slightly before a warm wet cloth is pressed between your legs causing you to jolt awake. You lift your head slightly looking at Jaemin clean you up while placing kisses on the inner of your thighs.

“Dont, that will only lead to another round” you warned, closing your legs on his head. Jaemin only chuckles as he moves his body to hover over yours placing a soft and gentle kiss on your lips.

Recently, Jaemin has become more intimate with you, even to the point of suggesting to move your stuff into his room since you were both married regardless. For sure he made your heart flutter, but there was a feeling of distrust locked in a box inside your heart. You knew it was possible to harbour feelings after getting to know one another, but a part of you made you doubt that, only choosing to believe that Jaemin was harbouring feelings out of convenience due to his age and career. Still, there was another part of your heart that began to light up whenever he was around you, hypocritical to your conflicting feelings.

You wrap your arms around Jaemin pulling him closer to you as his hand makes itself up to your stomach, lightly running the cloth over it cleaning any leftover cum that remains. He lays down beside you, pulling your head onto his extended arm. You shift slightly rolling onto your side as you hook your arms around him, pressing your face into the crook of his neck as he begins to clean your back.

“So I was thinking we would go to that fancy new place that opened up on the other side of town. You know the one on top of the hills that overlooks the city.” Jaemin mumbles, resting his head on the top of yours. “I heard they have a great selection of Italian reds.”

You couldn't help but laugh at his sudden remark, causing him to be tickled by your hot breath against his skin. Unable to control your laughter, you use every force in your body to roll over sitting up as Jaemin eyes you curiously, baffled as to why you were laughing so hard at such a normal question.

“What? Why are you laughing huh?” He chuckles awkwardly, still unsure as to why you were laughing at him.

“Lol are you seriously going to wine and dine me after you rearranged my guts for the past couple of hours” you laughed, gripping your stomach as you fell back onto the bed kicking your legs playfully.

Jaemin couldn't help but to smile as he sits up pulling your body closer to his before caging you in his arms falling back down on the bed.

“What? What's so wrong with wine and dining hmm?” Jaemin laughs, resting his head onto your exposed chest. Your laughter dies down as you wrap your arms around his head, causing him to be squished between your tits.

“Jaemin you know we’re not technically dating right? Why are you being so romantic all of a sudden” You whisper running your hands through his hair. Jaemin chuckles slightly, enjoying his face squished between your breasts.

“I mean...Y/N we’re technically married, shouldn't we at least act like it?” Jaemin mumbles, placing a few kisses in the centre of your chest. You felt your chest sting at his remark, biting your lip to stop yourself from tearing up. Confused as to why you weren't replying, Jaemin removes himself from your chest to look up at your face, instantly cupping it. “What's wrong? Was it something I said?” Jaemin coos, wrapping his arms around your head as you lose control over your tears allowing them to spill all over his exposed chest.

“Jaem...do you ever think that you only like me because we live together?” you whisper, rubbing his back slightly as you forced yourself not to continue to cry.

“Y/N…That's not it at all. I genuinely like you so much and I'm sorry if I'm not expressing that well enough but...the past few months of us living together, becoming friends, and then this...it's been amazing. You make me feel so warm inside, like substantial… you feel like home.” Jaemin mumbles, hugging you tighter as he presses kisses on top of your head. “I'm sorry that i haven't officially asked you out or anything...its just that we’re kind of technically married and i thought it’d be easier just to flow into it naturally…” You were about to reply but Jaemin takes a deep breath, pushing you lightly from his chest to look you in the eye.

“Y/N I think you’re super hot, you’re so supporting and smart and intuitive and kind…” He starts rambling, counting the traits he saw in you causing your ears to become red and flustered...even though you were both in bed naked as he confessed to you. “I think you’re amazing and I would be super upset if you started dating someone else and we got divorced because I have felt so much more happier after meeting you, like you were some saving grace!” He confesses, hugging you tightly once again. You felt your entire body flush red, from head to toe causing you to nervously sweat. “If you don't want to be my girlfriend, that's okay but i just want you to know that everything i just said are my real feelings...100%” Jaemin mumbles, staring into your eyes softly. You felt your heart race, unable to even face him properly are you pushed yourself away from him to sit up.

Putting on top he discarded the headboard over your body. You felt a shiver travel up your spine as your feet hit the cold wood floor.

“So it's a no….” Jaemin chuckles sadly, running a hand through his hair. You instantly turn around, facing him shocked to your core at the words that had left his mouth.

“No, Jaem...i'm getting out of bed to get ready for our first official date.” You reply, completely panicked that his mind went instantly to rejection. Was the idea of you leaving him what held him back from confessing to you?

Jaemins face instantly brightens as he quickly gets out of bed to run over to you, engulfing you in a tight hug as he peppered kisses all over your face. “I knew you had a crush on me, Y/N you’re so fucking cute!” He sings happily, waddling you to the bathroom in his arms as you felt tears flood the brim of your eyes, tears of self inflicted anger, sadness and joy.

Flicking on the bathroom light, you shriek, causing Jaemin to snap out of his state of ecstasy to look at you worriedly. You hit him lightly, huffing as you stare at the dark red and purple patches littered all over your neck in absolute disbelief.

“How am i meant to hide these?!” You cry, pulling the collar of his shirt down to reveal even more. Jaemin only laughs, wrapping his arms around your waist as he rests his head on top of yours.

“Don't hide them, they’re pretty” he states, staring at you through the mirror before blinking innocently before tightening his hug on you, returning to his own happy world. Jaemin was esatic, feeling as if all of his wishes were finally granted after pouring his heavy heart out onto you, in hopes of progressing your relationship with one another.

“You’re so cuteeeeee!” Jaemin yells cathartically, rocking you side to side like a child squeezing

a soft toy. You could only sigh as a response, returning his hug as he happily chatted your ear off about how happy he was in that very moment.

Jaemin stops speaking momentarily causing you both to stare at each other in the mirror, before bursting out into laughter as Jaemin pushes you to sit on the toilet running a warm bath for you both.

“You better be helping me apply concealer to this before we leave” you laugh, splashing the water up at Jaemin.

“Of course, anything for you”

[raibebe]

Now why would you do this to me? 😭

leaked

BABY HANEUL

mia this is your fault

brainrot

puppy

monsterfer jen + jaem

witches

carat jeno

everlong smoke

Futuristic

markus eggs

mirror

monsterf

Sea monster bf

Sweeter than sugar

cam jaem

Carjen

Copjen

Crime

Hellhound

hotel demon jaem

Kitty Chenle

pinkno

Pinkpup

Reward

thihj tattii

Witch Hyuckie

First

In no particular order other than the one I found them in my Google drive 😗✌🏻

Also yes, I haven’t worked on some of these in years but I’m not ready to let these ideas go into the “abandoned” folder…

I’ll not tag as many people as I have WIPs because I don’t even know that many people, therefor whoever sees this, now has to do this.

And yes! Please ask me stuff about the WIPs, I’d love to share my thoughts and progress and them 🤍

WIP GAME 💌

Thanks for the tag twin twin @the-boy-meets-evil

Rules: post the names of all the files in your wip folder regardless of how non-descriptive or ridiculous they are. let people send you an ask with any titles that most intrigue them and then post a little snippet of it or tell them something about it! and then tag as many people as you have wips.

My wips:

-You Drive Me Crazy

-The Answer is You

-Discotheque Juliet

-Saturday in the Park

-Part of your Symphony

-Over the Radio Waves

-You Never Walk Alone

-Cool for the Summer

-Coffee and Blossoms

-Snowblind

-Love is Looking for You

-Inevitable

There’s a ton more and I don’t if some of these will even see the light of day bahaha. But I look forward to talking about them!

Tagging: @wonwooslibrary @playmetheclassics @shuadotcom @flowerboykun @anyamaris @sun-kore @tbzhub @raibebe (ignore if you’ve already been tagged and no pressure to do it!)

[cornley-amateur-drama-society]

i feel like everyone needs to know and understand that a few days ago when i went off several times about max and the bennett family being french, i also did a tonne of research about french beaches and mansion names and have gottten. really niche with the name of the bennett family french beach home

[butterbeeryuta]

chapter 3: first fights and an omelette

A perfect world doesn’t exist, and what’s a better way to express it than our afterlife being filled with things that is terrible for our own eyes? Clearly, Hell 127, or whoever the fuck runs this place, knows that themselves. We were all in our pyjamas, or clothes I guess since Yuna was wearing a Balenciaga shirt. Maybe she died from finding out one of her Nike shoes was fake. If I have to be honest, that’s one impressive way to die. All of us were sitting in silence, obviously unsure of how to deal with the ongoing situation of our rooms. Donghyuck was biting his nails, while Ryujin still maintained to keep her aura as earlier, almost as if nothing scared her. If there was anyone who was clearly traumatised, it was Mark. The poor guy had to be carried out by Johnny cause he just could not deal with the pictures of bugs.

‘So… the rooms are clearly everything we hate’ I quietly said, breaking the ice in the room. Everyone turned their heads towards me, processing the obvious words I just spoke. Taeil, the man who laughed at his own death, just nodded at me. My eyes scanned the room, trying to see if anyone had anything to say, because my people-reading skills are just that good. And just like how any teacher would see their students after asking a question, everyone was avoiding eye contact with you. Sighing, I decided to do the most embarrassing thing so far since nothing can beat choking on a goddamn muffin.

‘Okay kids! Let’s all put our thinking caps on and hold our brush— actually don’t hold anything. Instead of just sitting in silence, let’s all work together as a group to find different solutions to our problem—‘

‘What the fuck are you doing?’ Yuta interrupted, visibly disliking my approach to get shit solved from the his tone and raise of his eyebrows.

‘Okay redhead, you died from running into a wall cause you were a criminal so you don’t have any say in this.’ I retorted, refusing to take any sort of crap from this man who is just sitting idly.

‘As if you’re any better babe, we’re both in this place for eternity and you’ve got to get used to me hun. Perhaps I can shows you a few skills of mine that I’ve picked up over the years, and trust me, you’ll surely like me the moment I—‘

‘Oh my god ew, why are men like this?’ Rosé disgustingly, and thankfully, interferes. Although she has been one of the quieter people in this group, I already love her.

‘Hey! Not all of us are like him. He just hasn’t been laid for a bit and get the suck of his afterlife’ Jaemin answers with his sneaky yet attractive smirk of his. Mark was already turning red from all the sexual references, and it was cute and funny. He was probably the only valid person in this friend group. And Rosé. Maybe I have a crush on Rosé. More and more people began to comment on each other’s opinion, and well, our first fight begun.

‘You’re such a child! You’ve been doing nothing but cowering yourself, and now that I talk about why watermelons suck you put your big boy pants on?’ Momo questioned Mark.

‘Well of course I will! Watermelons are light and tasty and refreshing, how can you not like it? It’s one of god’s best creations.’ He responds nonchalantly, keeping his chin up to prove to the woman that he is confident in his words.

‘Sweetie, there’s no god we’re all in hell.’ She comments rather quickly, having Mark to doubt himself. She did have a good point though.

‘We’re going out of hand here, we need to talk about solutions to the rooms—‘

‘WELL FUCK YOU RYUJIN, I AT LEAST HAD AMAZING FOLLOWERS AND GOT FREE STUFF!’ Hello?

‘And I am 99% sure that more than half of your followers are creepy old men, and that is nothing to brag about babe’ the other girl spat back, which did not help at all cause more begin to fight with another.

‘ENOUGH! SIT YOUR ASSES DOWN AND GET OVER YOURSELF. You opinion isn’t better than anyone else’s, so deal with it and be a whole fucking adult’ I shouted, which effectively led to the group shutting up for once, and they slowly took a seat on the couch. Maybe I should’ve been a teacher for teenagers and young adults. I cleared my throat once more, and began to speak.

‘So… rooms? I don’t know how we all began to fight, but we need to get it sorted tonight so that we can sleep in peace and have a better morning tomorrow’ you said, hoping all of them were listening to your every word.

‘I remember how we fought…’ Yuta whispered, but it was loud enough for me to hear. I gave him a sour smile, not wanting to spark another fight between all of us. Before I could pitch out more ideas and thoughts to hopefully encourage the others to speak up, sweet baby watermelon-protector Mark cleared his throat.

‘How ‘bout if we switch rooms? You know, rooms where none of us will be freaked out in our sleep?’ He suggested. Oh. Oh wow. Why didn’t I think of that?

‘I’m sleeping in my own room’ Ryujin said without hesitation. I wanted to ask her if she was okay with it, but she probably didn’t want anyone to know her fear. Or perhaps there’s a deeper reason behind everything she does that forms this mysterious atmosphere around her, or that could probably just be me.

‘So we going ahead with Mark’s idea?’

So, we didn’t go ahead with Mark’s idea because well… we ended up arguing with who gets which room. People were fighting for mine since it was the ‘least disturbing,’ but I personally found Yuna’s the easiest to live in; it was just a lot of dots and circles. If you were smart enough, you can just connect the dots with a marker and create another form of art. She was probably trypophobic. Instead, we ended up bringing our mattresses downstairs and spreading all 13 from the living room to the kitchen. Love that for us.

‘OH MY GOD JAEMIN OUT ON SOME PANTS’ Rosé screams covering her eyes immediately with her blanket. And like an idiot, I turned towards him and… he was just in his boxers. Huh.

‘Looking good Jaems’ Yuta said, which was soon followed by a loud smack on the butt. Ouch. Ignoring everything, I tucked myself under the sheets, not wanting to be bothered.

‘Hey _________?’ Well I was wrong. Thanks Mark. Removing myself from the sheets, my eyes met with Mark’s pretty eyes, causing me to startle for a second. He looked lost. Almost in need of help if I may add. ‘Sorry for disturbing you but, can you help me c-cook something? I’m in the mood for an omelette but I just don’t know how to make one’ Mark quietly requests as he looked down at his socks-covered toes. So, Mark Lee decides to get me to move out of my bed because he doesn’t know how to make an omelette. What am I going to do with this kid? And because I’m a weak bitch, of course I chose to help him.

a/n: IM SO SO SO SO SO SO SORRY!!!! i lost so much motivation, and i was honestly considering of scrapping this fic cause i felt like i couldn’t execute what i wanted to write properly. i think i tried to write this chapter a good 6 times(?) but it just wasn’t good enough for me. i also don’t think what i wrote not is great either, but it definitely helps me to write a better upcoming chapter for a better development between the reader and mark. i’m thinking just 4 more parts and this short fic will come to an end hehe. so yes, IM SO SO SO SO SORRY HUHUHUHUHU. i’ll try my best to write better and post more quicker. i completely understand if you are unhappy w my progress.

taglist: @lelenoir @murasakillmepls @neolights @anothermessedupbitch @miyayassy​ @lavellanfriendliness​

[nctsworld]

kiss me quick

✩ haechan x reader | enemies to lovers | college roommate!hyuck | fluff | suggestive | 1k

SUMMARY | a kiss between you and your awful roommate reveals something neither of you expect. WARNINGS | swearing, intense kissing, mentions of drinking/alcohol RATING | teen+ PROMPT | kissing to prove there’s no chemistry, even though it’s a lie, the kiss proving it REQ BY | anonymous 

“No fucking way,” Donghyuck mumbles, shaking his head. 

All heads turn to face the ball-capped figure at the end of the staircase leading into the living room area. Everyone, including yourself, is on the beer-littered floor. Currently, you’re all in the middle of playing the juvenile game of Spin the Bottle.

You’re playing with a group of your friends along with your roommates, sans one roommate in particular, and as long as you aren’t kissing him, that’s all that matters. 

However, fate is a cruel bitch, because the empty beer bottle comes to a slow and points directly at him at the same moment he decides to step into the living room. 

“Yeah, no. I’m respinning,” you immediately say, already grabbing the bottle. A hand quickly intercepts atop of yours.

“Nu-uh,” Jaemin, the owner of the hand stopping you and one of your roommates, says. “The bottle works in its special ways; you must follow what it says.” 

“He’s not even playing!” you complain, holding out your other hand.

“You know,” Jeno, your other roommate, pipes up. “Jaem’s got a point. The bottle’s never wrong.” 

Jeno lifts his chin towards Donghyuck’s direction. “Dude, get over here and kiss her.” 

The man at the base of the stairs scoffs in disbelief. “Yeah, I just came down to get a drink. I’m not kissing her, even if you paid me.”

You roll your eyes and scoff. “As if I’d ever kiss you in a million years.”

The disdain between you and Donghyuck doesn’t have a single origin story. 

You’ve been roommates for two years, and for that duration, you’ve never meshed with him. Maybe it was because of the time you overheard him complaining endlessly about living with you, or maybe it was because of another time when he ate all your leftovers and pretended he didn’t. Who knows?

And it wasn’t just painful to live with him as a roommate, but his presence in general. Donghyuck could say the exact same about you. 

You’d move out, but Jeno and Jaemin were great roommates, and the location was a steal for the price you were paying. For the bane of your existence, his reasons were similar, except that Jeno and Jaemin were not only his roommates, but his best friends.

If it weren’t for those two, you would never put up with each other as much as you already do. 

As you and Donghyuck burn holes into each other’s sockets from across the room, everyone on the floor shifts uncomfortably in the dreadful silence until Jeno finally speaks up. 

“Do you guys ever think that you two lowkey have a thing for each other?” 

“What?” 

Both you and your roommate-enemy spew in unison, staring at Jeno with confusion etched in your features. 

“All this negative energy could just be subconscious sexual tension,” he adds. 

Donghyuck folds his arms against his chest and asks in annoyance, “Are you really psychoanalyzing us right now?”

“Can’t help it.” The neuropsych major shrugs innocently, then runs his fingers through his hair. “But am I wrong?” 

“Absolutely.”

“Of course.” 

For a second, you and Donghyuck share a rare exchange of glances. Amused, both parties chuckle lightly. Your roommate tugs at the end of his baseball cap and drops his head to the floor, while you take a sip of your beer. 

Who’d think that the only time you two would ever agree on something is the distaste you have for one another?

Your sip evolves into a lengthy chug, then you plop the bottle down onto the floor and wipe your mouth with the back of your hand.

“Fine,” you say determinedly, standing up from the circle. “We’ll kiss, but only to prove you wrong.” 

You’re already crossing the room, disregarding the panic on Donghyuck’s face, and before he can dispute or blink, you grab your annoying roommate by his cheeks for a kiss.

Shock jolts and runs through your bodies, causing the kiss to be stiff at first. 

But once you experiment and slowly move your lips against his, he matches your curiosity. His lips are softer and plusher than you ever imagined, the kind that you want to keep kissing until you die from exhaustion.

Cautiously, Donghyuck tugs you closer by your neck and his other hand melts into your side. Your necks crane further, entangling deeper into the kisses. 

Since you don’t seem to be detesting it, when your mouth opens up slightly, he darts his tongue into your mouth. Donghyuck swallows a moan-whimper that exits from you, and you pray to God that nobody heard that.

On the other hand, that sound rocks his entirety. He wonders what other pretty noises he could elicit from you. 

After tasting him a little more, you force yourself to tear away from him, shoving him away by his chest—stopping this before it evolves into unknown, dangerous waters for either of you.

“See?” you pant, facing the group with a neutral expression. “Nothing. Did you feel anything?” 

A little disoriented by the liplocking, the one you kissed clears his throat. He dips his head to hide himself behind his cap from the small audience and stuffs his fists into his jean pockets. 

Replying woodenly, he says, “Nope.”

Without another word, Donghyuck zips out of the room, heading over to the kitchen like he initially intended to.

You sit back down with everyone, and the kissing must’ve came off as awkward in their eyes since the group easily progresses into the next round of the game as if nothing happened.

But you look longingly in the direction of the kitchen, pondering if Donghyuck meant what he said.

A few minutes later, when he passes by the living room to return to his room with his drink in tow, Donghyuck glances at you fleetingly. You’re smiling at something Jaemin said, touching his arm and then leaning your head back in a laugh.

Neither of you will ever admit it aloud, but maybe Jeno really was right all along.

Because pure desire now courses wildly through your minds and your bodies—both of you can’t stop thinking about your mouths on one another, wanting each other’s touch again.

No, you need each other’s touch again. 

[timelesstempo]

north pole technology

summary: hey (y/n), do you wanna build a snowman? (alt. jaemin is a little bit too excited to make a snowman)

elves: toy car maker!jaemin x doll maker!reader

wc: 900

members/days posted: (1/21)

a/n: this is the first part of my elf!nct christmas series! there will be more elf-like stories in the future, I know this one is kind of normal. i really hope you all enjoy it! let me know what you think and maybe what other member you are excited for! happy holidays! <3

north pole technology masterlist

nct masterlist | main masterlist

“Top hat?” 

“Check.”

“Buttons?”

“Check.”

“Scarf? Carrots?”

“Checkity. Check.” 

“Okay! Aside from twigs, we have everything!” 

“Alright, let’s go build a snowman!” Jaemin exclaims as he pushes passed you and out the workshop doors into the snow. He sets the items down on the ground then turns to you. 

“You start working on the middle. I got the bottom,” Jaemin smiles as he leans down to begin packing snow into a huge ball. 

Starting a little ways away from him, you begin rolling snow for the middle part of the snowman. Soon enough you have a decent-sized ball and turn to check on Jaemin’s progress. 

“Jaemin! Seriously??” 

Instead of an elf behind you, you find a snowball practically twice your height. It’s so big that you can only see the top of Jaemin’s head, his hat and a few strands of hair, peeking out from behind the massive moving object. He moves to the side so he can see you. 

“What? Isn’t it great!? We are going to make the biggest and best snowman ever in workshop history!” 

You sigh with a smile; you just can’t say no to his enthusiasm. 

“Okay well, at least help me put this middle piece on it.” 

Jaemin rolls his giant snowball over to the spot you had both agreed was the best place to display your masterpiece. Once he is done he grabs one side of your snowball, which at this point is only slightly smaller than his, and you grab the other. 

“On three. One. Two. Three!” Jaemin grunts. 

Together you heave the cold lump on top of the other, moving and twisting it so it balances perfectly on the bottom one. 

“There! Hey, it already looks better than one of your cars!” you jab at the elf. Jaemin chucks a snowball at you as a counterattack.

“Okay, okay! Now the head!” Jaemin stills the roughhousing. The two of you decide to work together to roll the head piece as it would take less time and effort. 

Once the head is ready, Jaemin reaches to place it on the top of the snowman while you head toward the nearby tree to look for arm-like branches. Finding the perfect two lying on the snow-covered ground, you snatch them up and run back over to Jaemin and your unnamed snowman. 

“Great, you found his arms!” Jaemin takes one and sticks it into the side of the snowman while you do the same on the other side. “Time to make him look beautiful!” 

“Uh, Jaem? How are we going to put the eyes and stuff on when you could barely reach high enough to put the head on?” You question him. Clearly, neither of you had thought this through. 

Jaemin looks up at the top of the snowman while he thinks before softly gasping in realization. He crouches on the ground in front of you, you stare at the back of his head in confusion. 

“Climb on my shoulders, silly!” He turns his head to laugh at you. 

“Are you sure?” You ask. 

“Yes now hop on before I ditch you and go get Johnny to help me,” he jokes rather dramatically. 

“Okay okay! But don’t you drop me!” you laugh. Before attempting to climb on, you gather your decoration items and place them in the hat.

You gently place your free hand on Jaemin’s head before swinging your leg over one shoulder. He quickly grabs it to steady you. You swing the other leg over and he slowly stands, careful not to fall over. 

“Alright little stylist, work your magic!” Jaemin laughs from below you. 

You playfully roll your eyes although he can’t see you. You begin with the eyes: small blue buttons that Jaemin had sneakily stolen off of Jungwoo’s work table. Black buttons of the same size are used to give the snowman a warm smile contrary to the rest of his body’s temperature. Next are the buttons that run down the middle of the snowman; those were black and much bigger than the eye buttons. The red scarf is carefully wrapped around its neck and a carrot nose placed right in the center of his friendly face. 

“Finishing touch,” you mention down to Jaemin. 

Finally, you place the large black top hat that Mrs. Clause had graciously provided on top of the snowman’s head, making sure it is secure. 

“Yay! All done!” you exclaim.

“Good! I’m going to put you down now.” 

Jaemin begins to lower himself closer to the ground and move away from the snowman at the same time; however, he wasn’t quite as graceful as he had hoped. Before you can react, you are tumbling down into a large snow pile, Jaemin right beside you. The snow cushions your fall, but it doesn’t protect Jaemin from your wrath.  

“Na Jaemin I told you not to drop me!!” 

You tackle him and he fights back, the two of you rolling back and forth in the snow in a playful fight, giggling. Jaemin eventually pins your arms down into the snow, preventing you from administering any more attacks. Your faces are close and Jaemin stares down at you and smiles. His smile widens before he leans down and places a small kiss on the tip of your nose; it scrunches in reaction which makes him giggle. He stands up, reaching out his hand to help you. Once you are both free from the snow pile, he straightens your coat and fixes the hat that has gone crooked on your head. He takes your hand and begins walking back toward the workshop. 

“Come on, let’s get inside to tell the others about our snowman and warm up that cold little nose of yours.” 

[smileyjaeminies]

Protect Them All.

Synopsis: Mark watches over his friends in a crime ridden New York City. What happens when his most guarded secret is found out?

Word Count: 2,7 k

Genre: Spiderman au!

Warnings: Fighting, violence

Member: Mark, ft all the Dreamies

A/N: Hey guys! I’m back after what felt like an eternity. I hope this work makes up for it though. It is so precious to me that I managed to put together two of my favorite things, Dream and Spiderman. I hope you guys can enjoy this work as much as I do.

Part one, part two

       Mark was sitting on a rooftop at sundown. He stopped momentarily to admire the scenery before him, a view that never failed to overwhelm him. As the last rays of sunlight cast their light upon New York City, only for the cover of darkness to take their place, it felt as if a hand twisted at Mark’s heart.

     After being bitten by a radioactive spider his life had completely turned upside down. Harnessing his powers and realizing just what his late uncle had meant with the words “With great power comes great responsibility”, Mark had to balance two worlds: Mark Lee, the high school senior, and Spiderman, fighting off crime from the streets of New York.

     His main concern of course was his Aunt, May who should never find out about it all. Then it was his six best friends, all so different but all so dear to him. Four of them were juniors, Donghyuck, Jeno, Renjun and Jaemin. One a sophomore, Chenle and then, their youngest, only a freshman, Jisung.

     Mark had managed to memorize all of their schedules and did his absolute best to trail them while they returned home at night. First to leave for home was Donghyuck, returning from his singing classes. Once Donghyuck gets home, he has just enough time to make it to Renjun, returning from his art class.

     He usually catches Chenle and Jeno halfway through their way home from their basketball practice. Thankfully, that is really close by to Jaemin and Jisung’s dance practice. That leaves Aunt May, returning from work only a few blocks away from their apartment.

     He has been watching over his loved ones for months now with no incidents. He has stepped in in small fights, he has helped a woman to go home safely. He fights whenever he deems it necessary, he avoids being seen or making a scene. He helps with what he has and he tries his best.

     He works on his schoolwork when he can, but that is not always easy. His grades are decent, but nothing like Renjun’s. Still, he does his best for his Aunt.

     Darkness engulfs him while he is lost in his thoughts.

     “Well, time to go to work!” he thinks to himself and gets up.

 ----------------------------------------------

      Mark is sitting in Calculus, looking down at a test full of equations he is supposed to know how to solve. He can’t help but stare at it with a blank look on his face. He had no time to go over the material the previous evening and he is so lost. He considers asking the teacher for help but he couldn’t even start asking questions.

     He takes a deep breath. “You can do this” he murmurs to himself. “You’re Spiderman” his subconscious adds.

     He picks up his pencil, trying to do the best he can. Before he can finish the entire thing, the bell rings.

     “Okay everyone!” the teacher exclaims loudly, “Turn in your tests on your way out, please”

     Mark looks down at his answers and can’t help but feel disappointed in himself. He makes a mental note to try harder in this particular lesson so he can make up, maybe he could ask that really smart girl in his class for help.

     He gets up and turns in his work feeling almost defeated. He walks out of the door and nearly loses his balance as a huge weight jumps on him.

     “I see you took your sweet time in there” Donghyuck proclaims, energetic as always.

     “How was it Mark? Better or worse than you thought?” Jisung asks.

     “Worse. Definitely worse. That was a bloodbath” Mark says as they make their way to the courtyard.

     “Hey, it can’t be that bad! I’m sure you’ll make up for it.” Jeno says.

     “I agree. Besides, it can’t be easy, with your internship and all. I mean, balancing everything must be super rough.” Renjun says.

     Right. The internship. The biggest lie Mark has ever said. He hated it, he hated it with a burning passion, lying to the people that mattered the most to him. But he had to lie. To protect them.

     After all, it’s not like he could walk in one day and simply say “Hey guys, guess what, I’m Spiderman!” No, it didn’t work that way. He couldn’t just put the weight of this huge secret on their shoulders.

     So he kept quiet. He had to.

     After the talk of his test ended, other topics took its place like the upcoming basketball game for Chenle and Jeno, Renjun’s current work in progress and Jaemin’s upcoming Bio exam.

     The conversation flowed easily between the friend group, as it always had. When a heated argument broke out between Donghyuck and Chenle about what game console was better, Jaemin leaned in to talk to Mark.

     “What’s on your mind?” Jaemin whispered. “And don’t tell me it’s about the test because I know you better than that. Something has been bothering you, I can see it”

     Mark tried to fight the urge to tell him everything. He gulped the true explanation down and answered just as quietly.

     “It’s just been everything I guess. Like Renjun said, it isn’t easy to balance everything. I think it’s just that some days it gets harder than others.” It was half the truth, but it would have to do.

     “I get it, I really do. But, Mark, maybe you should give up the internship. Maybe it’s just not your thing, maybe it’s not the right time. I’m not sure it’s doing you any good.” He replies.

     Mark had to smile. Of course Jaemin would be worried. That’s just… Jaemin. He tried his best to reassure him.

     “Thank you Jaems, I’ll keep that in mind” he smiled at his friend.

     “Mark! Back me up here! The Switch is so superior!” Donghyuck turned at him.

     “Oh no, do not drag me into this. Besides, you know I suck at any video game we play, how am I supposed to have an opinion?” He asked and the group laughed at him.

--------------------------------------------------------- 

      Mark was getting worried. Donghyuck seemed to move very quickly, which made it even more difficult to trail him without being obvious. He lurked in the shadows or the rooftops of the buildings and followed his best friend on the way home.

     Then, as it was bound to happen one day, trouble found Donghyuck. He was trying to take a shortcut home, so he turned in an alley which was… occupied.

     Two men, clad in black were discussing in low voices, heads close together. It was a heated discussion filled with tension. Donghyuck was frozen in the entrance of the alley. He had to act quickly, but what would he do? Walk by them as if nothing is happening? Turn around on his heels and pretend he saw nothing?

     Mark chose that moment of hesitation from Donghyuck to jump down in front of the two men. They were clearly dealing something, probably drugs, but it didn’t matter. What mattered was that Donghyuck was okay.

     “Gentlemen, good evening” he said, his voice muffled by the mask and also slightly changed so Donhyuck wouldn’t recognize him.

     He saw both the men’s hands twitch towards their back.

     “Shit. They have guns” Mark thought. He wasn’t equipped for this.

     He gave them no time to react, swiftly throwing some web in the face of the man closest to him, he then grabbed him by his shoulders and throwed him in the direction of the other man. The men, losing their balance fell down. He gave punches wherever he could land them, in the man’s face, his jaw, his stomach.

     He throw some web in the second man’s hands, then his feet to keep him still. The first man then started to get up, taking the web off of his face. Mark crouched down, kicking his feet from under him and punching him once more, square on the jaw this time.

     “Donghyuck!” he hollered, “You need to go!”

     Donghyuck was still standing in the entrance of the alley, watching the scene unfold. His eyes darted from the two unconscious men to Mark. He collected himself and darted through the alley.

     “His house is only two blocks away. He is going to be okay” Mark told himself.

     He needed to sort this out before leaving.

     He pushed the two men towards the wall of the alley, casting his web to keep them there. He threw some extra web in their mouths to keep them from shouting.

     Mark searched their pockets to find what they were dealing. It was cocaine. He felt disgusted that people would use this, that they would ruin their lives for just a couple grams. He felt even more disgusted at the people selling it.

     He lifted his mask enough for his mouth to be out of it, and called the police from his burner phone. The coat of web on them would hold until the police came. It was time to check on Donghyuck.

 -----------------------------------------------------------------

     He quickly arrived at Donghyuck’s apartment. He ran up the stairs and banged on the door. His mother answered the door.

     “Hi Mark!” she greeted him happily.

     “Hello Mrs. Lee. Is Hyuck home?” he asked.

     “Oh no dear, he was just here, dropped off some things and headed right back out. You know Donghyuck, I could never know what he’s up to” She answered him with a light laugh.

     Mark started to panic. Where did he go? He tried not to show his feelings.

     “Thank you Mrs. Lee, now I remember where he is! He said he’ll go see Jeno and Chenle’s practice! I will tell him to come straight home when I find him!” he told her. She said something in return but Mark was already rushing down the stairs.

     Mark just had the thought to check his phone. He always had it on silent, something the others always whined about and he tried to justify with his “intership”. Just as he opened his phone he saw a message from Donghyuck.

     Hyuckie

I’m at The Corner. Come as soon as you get this.

     Mark noticed the message was sent to him and not to their groupchat which helped him breathe better again.

     The Corner as they called it was an old, almost abandoned building. It was pretty run down, so it didn’t feel like trespassing when they were there. Mark was pretty sure someone owned it though, someone had to. It was really close to all of the guys homes, so they made it their own hiding spot a little while after the group was formed. Jisung and Chenle absolutely loved it, they were the ones who found it. They had done their best to fix the interior but the lack of electricity made it harder.

     Mark made his way to The Corner and tried to gather his thoughts. When he arrived, he still hadn’t managed to stop his racing mind but he would do his best to keep his mouth shut.

     He walked in and saw Donghyuck immediately, on a broken down green couch Jaemin and Jeno had “saved” from the garbage truck. He had his head in his hands, his foot tapping against the wooden floor.

     Marks footsteps echoed and made the wood creak under him. That grabbed Donghyuck’s attention, making him whip his head up and turn to face his best friend.

     “Hey Hyuck.” Mark said slowly. “I got your message. What’s up?”

     Donghyuck sat there and looked at him for a minute before saying anything.

     “Fuck you. You “what’s up?” me? Me of all people? I mean if it was Jisung sure keep putting on your stupid act but me? I know you better than anyone Mark you can’t keep bullshitting me. Not after I just caught you red handed.” His voice was getting louder as he was getting angrier.

     Mark had to. He had to keep lying to him, as much as he hated it. He tried to keep a straight face as he answered.

     “I have no idea what you’re talking about. What happened?”

     “Like hell you do! You just caught two thugs selling I don’t even know what a few blocks from my house! And they had guns! Guns Mark! How are you equipped to take care of situations like this? You’re still in high school for fuck’s sake.”

     “Hyuck what the hell are you talking about? Who do you think I am?” he asked. Apparently, that was the wrong question.

     “FUCKING SPIDER-MAN THAT’S WHO. Don’t even try to deny it. Renjun and I have known for a while. Well, we suspected it. Renjun is the smartest in our group and I’m, well… Me. But I didn’t want to believe it. I didn’t want to think that you would keep a secret like this from us, from me. I’m supposed to be your best friend God damn it.”

     Mark needed a minute to recollect himself after that. Renjun knew? And he didn’t mention it? That could mean that Jeno and Jaemin couldn’t be far from the truth either. He had to make a decision right then and there, to come clean or to keep his act together.

     That decision however, had already been taken for him.

     “Even if I were Spider-man, which I am not” Donghyuck shot him an angry glare at that. “Don’t you see why I wouldn’t tell you? You would be bait for any thug, any gang I opposed to. They could use you to get to me.”

     “You just called my name in front of those guys! Don’t you think they gathered that I was someone you cared about?”

     Mark was frozen. Did he really make such a rookie mistake? Was he that fucking stupid? Donghuck saw the distraught on Mark’s face and changed his stance immediately.

     “You didn’t know.” He said in a low voice.

     Mark shook his head. He had to sit down. He made his way to the couch and slouched down. His mind was racing again. A headache was soon approaching, he could feel it.

     “I’m sorry for pressuring you. I know it’s hard on you, watching over us all the time.” Donghyuck said, sitting down next to him.

     Mark looked at him. That was his best friend. He had saved his life tonight. He cursed at the universe for making him do this, he hated the lies, he hated everything but he had to continue. Always.

     “I need to go” he announced getting up and walking out.

     It had started to rain. Great. He had no umbrella, but at least the weather matched his feelings. He put his head down and started walking. He had to walk his Aunt home as well so he had to hurry.

     A hand at his shoulder stopped him. He spun around, seeing Donghyuck in front of him, also drenched in the rain.

     “What are you doing? You’re gonna catch pneumonia!” Mark shouted at the younger boy.

     Donghyuck just shook his head.

     “If you don’t want me to tell I won’t. I’ll make Renjun stop having doubts, I’ll help you find better excuses. I can help you Mark. Just please, you have to let me in. You can’t do this on your own.”

     Mark was at a loss for words. Donghyuck had always been there for him. Always. And now this. It was true, he couldn’t do it on his own. He hugged the younger boy, crashing him to his chest. The rain was still pouring over them, but none of them cared. Donghyuck sighed into the hug, hugging him back with just as much strength.

     It almost brought tears to Mark’s eyes. But they had to go.

     “Let’s get you home” he said, breaking the hug.

     “I have questions” Donghyuck answered with no hesitation.

     Mark sighed. Of course.

     “One question at a time, Hyuck. And only until I get you home.” He said.

     Donghyuck smiled and wasted no time.

[cornley-amateur-drama-society]

I have one prompt finished and posted to the collection, awaiting its reveal!

I have made little progress on the others, however… I still am planning on using the quote prompt as a follow-up or sequel to the previous one. But I'm starting to wonder if one of the others mightn't make for a better prompt. Nonetheless! We continue being cuckoo for Cornley Pops lol

Weekly Check-In #2

We’re heading into our third week now. But don’t worry if that gets you stressed, there’s still plenty of time left to finish whichever prompts you want to write before the event it over.

So, how are you doing? Used this past week to get some words on paper, or was a needed break in order?