#pri: BEN DROWNED

[pri-rp]

A certain digital ghost has been summonned to spectate mechanical scares

[pri-rp]

A shame. well, She'll learn eventually. the next response perhaps may share an alarm bell or two, or maybe not.

"Well, that's why i started with the fourth day glitch. consider that something of a trigger for a little bit of fiddling but... honestly, I know it's a podcast, but it's been long enough now. Since you're asking the process, maybe you'd like to see how? We could give your show a video special to hold on for some milestone that answers all of this!

That's... not presumptuous of me to suggest, is it? I've just been a bit of a rut lately, so to put it simply you've sparked some inspiration through that sort of boredom."

Unfortunately, she didn't see the second message; her mail sent anything from a hotmail address to the spam folder, considering how ill used the service now was. If she had, perhaps things would be different, but wishes in one hand and reality in the other.

She grins in delight at the response, nodding along as she writes back.

Thank you!!! That's an honor to hear, coming from you. And I get that; nostalgia and horror go so well together, the way you can expand on childhood fears or find fear in the formerly comforting. You have a real talent for building dread and making a story pay off, if I'm allowed to say so. You've earned the renown by your dedication to your work. Speaking of, how did you manage to hack the game so seamlessly? Did you learn it for the project, or have you always been interested in it?

[halloweenbitch2764]

When They Get Feelings For You

Slenderman

Your consistent visits are what started his initial crush. Nobody had ever made such an effort for him. If there was a day you couldn't come, you would tell him the day before. Even small gestures such as that only solidified his feelings.

Getting to learn more about you made that little crush grow. You were similar enough, but in the same vein, you were also different enough. You were your own person with your own thoughts. Having the powers he did, he was used to people following his every word. Well... mostly. Having someone with an independent mind and considerate heart just made the crush blossom into more. You being so cute was just the cherry on top.

BEN Drowned

For him being a demon that appeared out of your television, you were pretty chill. You didn't judge him for smoking weed, and you were wicked good at video games. He was used to consistently and easily winning, so when you gave him a run for his money, his heart jumped.

You'd offer him snacks when he was over and made sure to keep some of his favorite munchies snacks in your pantry. You didn't pry about his background. You were respectful of his boundaries. His background was still a sensitive subject to him, and your tenderness about it made his heart leap.

Eyeless Jack

Your openness to him eating kidneys was the catalyst. He didn't expect you to be okay with something as vile as that and understood that you didn't want to watch him eat them. But you would let him eat them in your house.

He was by no means talkative, but he enjoyed the conversations you two would have. You were so opinionated but, at the same time, willing to change perspectives if you were proven wrong. He enjoyed how attentive you were when he would talk to you about the human body and different medications. No human would give him the time of day unless he forced them to, and then that whole scenario lost it's charm. Your personality and looks opened his heart to y

Hoodie

Similar to Masky, you gave him a more stable existence. College made his disappearances just look like he had to catch up on class work. You never questioned why he wasn't able to hang out, and you never pried when he'd give you a shitty excuse. After meeting you, though, he thanked the stars that he had asked to sit next to you that first day. He almost didn't approach you. You were in your own little world. So pretty. And you had only grown more attractive.

He loved when you would ramble about your hobbies and things you liked. He could sit for hours at a time and listen. Your voice was so sweet. It made him feel safe. It was safe to say you were becoming something of a home to him.

Masky

A hint of normalcy. That's what started his crush. You gave his life stability. He even cut back on his cigarette breaks because of you. You didn't question why he would disappear for days at a time despite his shifty excuse about it being work related. You helped make sure he took his medications on time.

He was petrified you'd find out about his Masky state. Masky was so unpredictable and dangerous that he prayed you two would never cross paths. How do you explain that to someone? That you becoming a murderer, controlled by an Eldritch abomination. He didn't want to think about it. So, he allowed himself to develop feelings for you. You were kind and understanding. Maybe he could allow himself something so nice for once in his life.

Jeff The Killer

Jeff had secretly had a crush on you since high school. He always thought you were pretty and *may* have stalked you on a few occasions. Just the way you were so nice and had your own group of friends made him envious, but not necessarily in a negative way. More like he wanted to be like you.

He thought you moved gracefully and honestly didn't expect you to be so open, considering he had broken into your house the first couple of times. Hell, he didn't expect you to remember him at all. He may be an asshole but your kindness forms a yin and yang with him (in his opinion).

Laughing Jack

For being a child murderer he sure liked how nice you were to Lily. It's what made him want to meet you in the first place. Lily talked a lot about you. She always talked about how much she liked being at your house, going out to the park and mcdonalds with you, and just other small things.

He grew to love how quickly he could make you blush and how pretty it looked on you. You were just so pretty in general. You made his days less gray. You added pops of color to once monochromatic moments. How was he NOT supposed to fall for you?

[author-chan06]

Hello! Welcome to my Tumblr!

Personal:

Names: Ari, Jay, Roman, Blitzø, And Loki! You can use any or all of them.

Gender: Agenderboy

Sexuality: Biromantic Bisexual (Maybe??? Questioning This Rn Might Be On The Asexual Spectrum???)

Pronouns: They/He/It + Some Neos

Neopronouns That I Use:

Xe/Xem/Xyr/Xyrs/Xemself

Ae/Aer/Aer/Aers/Aerself

Ye/Yem/Yer/Yers/Yemself

Qu/Queer/Queer/Queers/Queerself

Voi/Void/Voids/Voids/Voidself

Vae/Vaer/Vaer/Vaers/Vaerself

Sym/Ser/Ser/Sers/Symself

Un/Un/Uns/Uns/ Unself

Nin/Nin/Nins/Nins/Ninself

Neb/Nebula/Nebus/Nebus/Nebulaself

Sti/Stim/Stims/Stims/Stimself

Pri/Prin/Princes/Princes/Princeself

Fandom Stance:

I am a proshipper, a comshipper, and a selfshipper. I do ship things that would be considered “problematic”, but I will not debate the ethics and morals of this on this blog. It’s just not really what I want to do, and it would cause me too much mental stress, as I’m not a big fan of being involved in debates. Any talk of this will be deleted. So anti’s do not interact.

So Tw’s for this blog:

Unhealthy Relationships

Toxic Relationships

Abusive Relationships

Manipulation

Underage/Adult Relationships

Incest

Sexual Assault

Rape

— And Just In General Some Dark Topics

If you don’t want to see any of that, that is totally fine. Just block and move on. If you’re leaving now, I wanna wish you a happy day and a fun time in whatever fandom you’re in! <3 <3

Fandoms And Ships:

I am in a lot of fandoms and I am a multishipper. So these will be the fandoms I’m in and a link to the post that shows my ships.

Batman

Sanders Sides

Hazbin Hotel

Helluva Boss

Gravity Falls

Marvel

The Owl House

Hamilton

My Hero Academia

My Ships Post

My Otherlinks And Fictionkin:

Otherlinks:

Loki (MCU)

Blitzø (Helluva Boss)

All Of My S/I’s

Fictionkin:

Roman Sanders (Sanders Sides)

Selfshipping/My F/O’s:

Remus Sanders (Sanders Sides) & Virgil Sanders (Sanders Sides) & Janus Sanders (Sanders Sides) & Patton Sanders (Sanders Sides) & Logan Sanders (Sanders Sides)

Blitzø & Stolas Ars Goetia (Helluva Boss)

Alastor (Hazbin Hotel)

Tomura Shigaraki & Dabi & Himiko Toga & Keigo Takami (BNHA)

Mammon (Obey Me)

Fizzarolli & Asmodeus (Helluva Boss)

Vox & Val & Velvette (Hazbin Hotel)

Darkiplier & Wilford & Bim Trimmer & Actor & Yancy & Illinois & Engineer Mark

SCP-049 “The Plague Doctor” & SCP-682 “The Hard To Kill Reptile” & SCP-035 “The Possessive Mask”

Slenderman & Jeff The Killer & Jane The Killer & Ticci Toby & Laughing Jack & Eyeless Jack & Masky & Nina & Clockwork & Ben Drowned

The ones with 2 or more people in one bracket thing are Polyam relationships! And I have made separate posts for most of them, if any of these interest you enough that you want to learn more!

The rest are newer and so they don’t have posts yet, but they will soon!

I’m totally ok with other’s who are dating these guys too! And while our relationships may not be the same, I would love to hear you gush about them, as long as you don’t mind me doing the same right back at you about us ahah

Request Rules And Request Limits:

Disclaimer! Any of these rules and limits to my writing have nothing to do the morality of writing these things and I hold no hate or disgust for people who write these types of things, I just don’t want to write these things or I don’t feel comfortable writing it myself.

Here are my rules and anything you might need to know about my requests: My Requests

Are requests open right now?

Requests are closed!

Links:

My AO3

My Old Blog

My Kofi (Not Fully Set Up Yet)

My Personal Tags

Well I think that’s everything! If you want to gush or ask questions or give requests, go ahead! I hope you enjoy your time at my blog!

[hannie-dul-set]

araw-araw [na jaemin]

(EVERY DAY)

part of “the puhon playlist” collection

SUMMARY | mahiwaga— someone or something that you’ll choose every single day no matter the circmstance. and for you, that was na jaemin. even if time decides to set you apart PAIRING | na jaemin x female! reader GENRE | childhood friends to lovers! au, college! au, romance, slow-ish burn, fluff, humor, tiny angst, biology major jaemin and art major mc HEHE WARNINGS | excessive swearing, insecurities, some sex jokes LMAO, i project a lot in this i’m sorry JSFJG WORD COUNT | 14.5k TAGLIST | @prettyjaems @lcvemark @shra-vasti @danishmiilk @probablygonnahurtsomebody @jccv @rebel-lious-alien @dalkomhanchocolateicecream @kthpurplesyou @fullsuhnshine​ @dejvns @nctzun @sweetjaemss @sehunniepot @wownajaemin @emoshishi @holywaterbetch @ukiyoneo @injunified @huangxx​ @jaehyunnie3​ @nct-writers​ @czennienet​ @neowritingsnet​ @kpopscape​

a/n: HERE IT IS.... MY PRIDE AND JOY JHSFJSD gahh okay i’m gonna keep my rambling to a minimum but this fic is very close and very dear to my heart and if it isn’t obvious that i’m in love with jaemin then this fic will make it obvious LMAO

also do yourself a favor and listen to ben&ben’s araw-araw on loop while reading this!! adds to the ~vibe~ hehe

Five-thirty-seven in the morning, grey clouds stretching throughout the sky as you peeked outside the window, falling right above oceans and buildings and people that you couldn’t even see. You sighed as you sank deeper into your chair, closing your eyes and adjusting your earbuds to clear your thoughts that were brought about by your sudden move.

You felt a nudge from beside you, coming from your mother (your dad was long knocked out since earlier), and so you politely pulled the earbuds away. “Excited to come back to Korea?” she asked. You simply responded with a smile and hum.

It wasn’t like you didn’t like the idea of returning— it was the prospect that it did not even feel like you were returning in the first place. Indifference was what you felt. After moving to Los Angeles when you were twelve because of your father’s job, you had to say goodbye to all your friends living in your hometown, all the traditions and customs that you were used to, and all the memories that you have built up in order to get used to a new environment. Seven years later when you thought you were just about to fit in with the west, your father comes out with the news of going back to Seoul again.

So it was difficult to manage a full smile.

You had a thought as you looked down through the window, recognizing a few of the landmarks that stood out: how strange it was to have somewhere that used to be home feel so foreign.

Just as you were about to put in your earbuds back in, your mother suddenly brightened, looking at you with a large smile on her face, eliciting your curious gaze.

“Oh! Do you still remember your old friend Jaemin?”

A smile tugged at your lips. How could you forget him?

Na Jaemin. Nana. Jaems. Your childhood best friend for six years until you were forcibly shipped all the way to LA. You still remembered how hesitant you were to tell him that you were moving because you didn’t want him to cry— only to have you crying and refusing to let go of him until your parent's pried you off of him at the airport. He assured you while wiping away your tears that you’d still get to see him one day.

Maybe that day would actually be one of these days.

“Yeah,” you mumbled, fiddling with the drawstrings of your jacket. “Why? I haven’t been in contact with him for years now.”

“His mom and I talked the other day and I told her that we’re moving back! And just earlier, she told me that Jaemin volunteered to pick us up from the airport so we won’t have to take a cab. Isn’t that great? You’d get to be reunited with your old friend again.”

“Ah,” you paused for a moment, in thought, just before pressing your lips together into a tight smile. “Yeah, it would be nice to see him again.”

That was what you said, but even until you left the plane, lugging your baggage across the cold floors of the airport with your music at full volume to drown out the noise, you were actually rather conflicted about meeting him again. A lot could happen within seven years, and therefore there was no assurance that things would still be the same. You weren’t sure if he’d still be the same sweet boy that was determined to fight the park swings after you fell and cried, if he’d still be the same kid that stopped talking to you for three days because you tricked him into eating a strawberry flavored lollipop. Maybe he’d still be, maybe he wouldn’t, but it was exactly that uncertainty that made you feel uneasy.

Still, there was still a hint of excitement, a string that tugged your heart away from all the uneasiness, just enough to bring a smile to your face at the thought of seeing him again.

“Y/N, let’s go?”

Your father called out to you and you didn’t even realize that you have actually stopped walking amidst your musings.

“Oh, yeah I—” you stumbled in between the ever moving airport crowd, looking down to see your shoelace had become undone, and so you let go of your suitcase. “You two go ahead, I’ll catch up in a sec!”

You ducked down, right beside the large, grey case to fix it, lips pursed in concentration. People passed by without minding you too much, but at one instance, just as you had finished retying your shoelace, your suitcase moved away from you with a shadow looming from above. Panic struck, and so you jolted up, instincts forcing your hand to move, quickly grabbing the handle. There was another hand resting on it. Your eyes moved up to meet with the culprit's.

Weirdly enough, he was just as shocked as you are.

Even weirder— he looked way, way too attractive to be a thief. Or maybe that was the modus these days? Still, you harshly dragged back the suitcase, ripping it away from his grasp with a glare. “What the fuck—”

At that moment, you recalled your mother’s words. Jaemin volunteered to pick us up from the airport. This guy looked a little too much like your old friend from your old neighborhood.

It felt like you were looking into the exact same large, dark eyes that used to be always accompanied by a pretty smile, now matched by a mouth hanging slightly agape from surprise. He even had the same dark hair that always messily fell over his eyes. There was a moment of pause in between the rush of bodies, the both of you in a frozen trance staring at each other until you had finally realized that motherfucker— this was Na Jaemin.

When did he get so hot?

“I—”

He flashed you a smile. The same damned smile. It brought you to the conclusion that seven years really didn’t do anything except make him far too attractive for his own good. All of a sudden you felt self-conscious about your own appearance as you gawked at him. God really liked to play favorites, huh?

You could see him say something, his lips moving just enough to represent a few words, but it was muffled thanks to the blaring music. Your confusion reflected clearly on your face contorting, and Jaemin only shook his head and laughed before reaching his hands to your face, bringing you to a momentary halt of haywire because what the actual fuck was he doing.

“You shouldn’t listen to music too loudly in public,” he said, pulling your earbuds out of your ears and gingerly placing them into your open palms with a smile. Holy fuck, his voice got so deep. “I’ve been calling out to you since earlier, but you couldn’t hear. Let’s go, your parents are waiting.”

Before you could even try to recollect yourself from the sudden crashing of events, Jaemin took your suitcase in your stead, leading you to his car.

If you still weren’t sure whether or not this was Na Jaemin from your past, you were now because although a bit watered down, he was just as excessively weird and sweet as he was ages ago. You found yourself feeling stupid for even doubting it in the first place. Of course, he was still the same; he even chirps your name in the same way as he always did before.

“There we go,” with a huff, the trunk came to a close. He threw your suitcase in there after seeing your mini struggle episode with far too little effort for your peace of mind. “You should just ask me next time. Okay, Y/N?”

“Thanks,” you gave him a small nod, flustered when he pinched your left cheek while making a questionable noise, and he opened the car door for you to enter.

Maybe it was you that had changed.

You were fairly quiet throughout the car ride while your parents and Jaemin decided to catch up after everything, only listening and giving your reactions whenever needed. You weren’t a morning person and your jetlag wasn’t doing you of any help either.

“You’re in your third year, right Jaemin?” your father asked, sitting at the front seat as your mother and you sat behind.

“Yep, yep,” he happily replied.

“Time really does fly fast, doesn’t it?” your mother joined in. “What uni do you go to, Jaemin?”

“Ah,” he sounded, eyes still directed on the road. “NCT U. It’s the closest at home, and I didn’t really wanna move out.”

“Oh, what a coincidence! Y/N isn’t that where you’re planning on going, too?”

“Really?” you could see Jaemin’s eyes brighten from the mirrors. “Y/N, do you want me to help you with your requirements? Have you enrolled already? I can give you a tour if you want!”

He’s really the same. You thought, smiling. “It’s fine, Jaemin. I already enrolled and took care of everything online.”

“But I should still tour you, though!” he retorted, the pout and whine evident in his voice. “The campus is really big so you might get lost. Ah, but aren’t universities in the States much bigger? I can also introduce you to some of my friends if you like.”

Jaemin went on for a while, telling your parents not to worry and promising that he’d take care of you throughout your college life here in Korea despite your protests that you could very much take care of your own self. Eventually, your mother asked about his major, and his animated expressions dimmed down into a slight bashfulness after answering that he was taking biology. You joined the conversation upon hearing that. “You said back then that you wanted to be a surgeon, right?”

With a shy smile, he nodded, and at that moment you felt a rush of awe for your childhood friend. Your parents seemed to have reacted the same way seeing as he was growing a little more embarrassed. It was amazing how he held on to the same dream he held since he was a kid— the amount of passion and dedication he must have for it. You on the other hand—

“What about you, Y/N?”

You jumped at the sudden subject switch. “Oh, I’m—” a pause in your statement. “I’m… taking an arts course.”

“Wow! As expected, Y/N is as cool as always,” he doted, which caused you to flush.

“It’s— it’s not really that amazing, it’s just the only thing I’m kinda good at so—”

“No, no, no. Y/N, you shouldn’t say that,” he scolded, clicking his tongue while his hands remained on the wheel. Your mother was beside you yet he was the one doing the mom nagging. “Who is that again? Bob Ross? Leonardo DiCaprio? You’re gonna be much much much better than them someday, I just know it! I have something called Nana vision, you know.”

You stifled a quiet laugh, not having the heart to correct him that it was not DiCaprio. “Does your Nana vision also see that we’re already almost at the complex?”

“Oh!”

At your words, Jaemin’s attention was now a hundred percent back on driving, profusely apologizing for getting distracted. You could see his ears slightly reddening from your seat which lasted until the end of the drive. Jaemin helped your family carry everything to your apartment on the eighth floor, even volunteering to help you unpack. Your mother firmly declined, however, insisting him to take a rest after all his help, but she did invite him and his parents over for dinner tomorrow. A little reunion of sorts.

“Six in the evening, right?”

“Yes. You should head back home now, Jaemin. Thank you for everything.”

He shot a bright smile before readying to march outside. “We’ll be here by five!”

She laughed at him, shaking her head, and proceeded to look for you inside the mess of the living room. You were about to disappear inside your room, luggage in hand to unpack, but she quickly dragged you back by the ear. “Go see him out the door!” she whisper-yelled, and so you did. Fortunately, he was stopped by your father before he got to leave, so you took this opportunity to smoothly stride beside him as he slipped past the door when he said goodbye. The door clicked to a close. He raised a brow at you.

“Mother’s orders,” you answered.

“So you wouldn’t have gone out if she didn’t tell you to?” he huffed, pouting. “And I was really happy to see you, too. I think I might have to take that back.”

You rolled your eyes at him, laughing, and eventually you made it to the end of the hallway. “Too late. You can’t take back your happiness. It’s good to see you again, Jaemin.”

The both of you stopped right in front of the elevator, and you waited for him to depart, but he didn’t. He had his arms crossed over his chest, accompanied by an expression on his face that you couldn’t quite tell if it was hurt, disappointment, or offense. Probably all three. Definitely all three.

“What? are you putting up a wall between us? Don’t I mean anything to you anymore?” he groused, nose scrunching. “What happened to Jaems? Nana? Y/N, you’re seriously hurting me over here.”

Laughing at the way he was sticking his frown right into your face to prove his point, you playfully shoved him off, pushing him into the elevator after all of his complaints even though he was the one moving his feet, anyway. You missed him, that much you could conclude, therefore you decided to stop his whining just before the elevator doors came to a close.

“See you tomorrow, Nana.”

You grinned, not missing the way his eyes lit up in between the small gap. You really did miss him, and you were lucky enough to have him as a small memory to remind you that this place was indeed home.

Maybe it wasn’t just Jaemin that you had missed. The entire family was just a smack in the face of early childhood nostalgia that you nearly cried (thank god you didn’t) when Mrs. Na buried you into a bone crushing hug the moment she saw you when you opened the door. You were really happy to be back— even when you weren’t exactly sure before.

“Mom, I think you’re suffocating, Y/N,” Jaemin pointed out as he left his shoes in front of your doorstep, walking inside with his father following behind him.

“Oh my, I’m so sorry, Y/N. I just couldn’t believe that this is you!” she coddled, and somewhere in between Jaemin found himself beside you. “I think I have pictures of you two when you were younger, hold on—”

Mrs. Na was pushed forward by her husband as she dug through her phone for a decade old Facebook posts of you and Jaemin (you hoped she wouldn’t remember you had an entire album). The older man ruffled your hair as he passed by with a fond smile, disappearing into the dining table where your parents were preparing and leaving you and Jaemin behind.

He was looking at you. Questionably so.

“What?”

“It’s not fair,” he whined. “I didn’t get to hug you yesterday.”

Oh my god, you shook your head, grabbing the sleeve of his mint jacket and leading him to where your parents were to help. “You’ll have more opportunities, you loser. It’s not like I’m going anywhere.”

Jaemin was speechless for a moment as he let you drag him along, but a happy smile broke through and he matched your steps halfway.

“Yeah,” he agreed. You weren’t going anywhere.

Dinner followed the usual sequence of events: reminiscing about the past, asking both parties what they have been up to, and of course talks about the future. During the meal, Jaemin asked when your classes were starting (next week), and he proposed his promised tour to be held this Tuesday— two days from now— because he didn’t have a lot of classes that day. He wouldn’t take no for an answer, neither did your parents, so you ended up agreeing.

Unfortunately for you, your mother pulled out the ancient photo album of the past right after dinner, and the stark contrast between yours and Jaemin’s reactions were also album worthy. By the end of it, you were sure that smoke was emitting from your ears because your good friend had an affinity with screaming over how cute you were, even going as far as stealing one of your baby pictures right before they decided to make their leave.

“Ah, ah,” he pulled the photo away the moment he sensed your attempt of theft. You two were standing right in front of the open door, his parents already having left ahead. “I’m keeping this. You look so cute here.”

“How am I so sure you won’t blackmail me with that!”

An offended gasp. “I would never,” he took out his phone, inserting your picture inside his colored phone case with you watching his every move. “It’s for me to see only, so you don’t need to worry.”

You looked at him. Then to the phone that he was holding up with a confident smile. You let out a sigh.

“Fine,” you begrudgingly relented, and he waddled over to you with a big smile on his face to envelop you into a hug. He smells nice, you thought, reciprocating the embrace. Wait, isn’t this my perfume? That would explain what he was doing inside your room earlier. You could only sigh inwardly let him keep on hugging you. He was whining about it earlier, after all.

It lasted long, maybe a bit too long because his dad came back to fetch him.

“Mhm, you can trust me with anything, Y/N,” Jaemin mumbled before finally pulling away, his hands still resting on your shoulders as he did. “Anyway, before I go— should we exchange phone numbers?”

Tuesday came by, and you were met with two realizations. Both of which made you feel very very small in comparison.

One, NCT U was really freaking big.

Two, Na Jaemin was really freaking popular.

Granted, he had only shown you around the STEM department, but with every turn that you took and every hallway that you passed through, there was least one person that stopped by to say hi to him. Even some of the teachers were close with him. You should have expected it considering he was literally nice, smart, handsome, and everything you could ever ask for, but it still made him feel just a tiny bit out of reach.

“Are you feeling tired?” he asked, breaking away from a conversation with a senior. He put a hand over your shoulder with concern that reflected in his eyes. “We can take a break around the benches if you want.”

“Yeah, sure. After you—”

“I’ll talk to you later, hyung. See you around.”

Jaemin waved off his older friend, Yuta, you had overheard, and proceeded to lead you to the aforementioned area on the ground floor before stopping by a vending machine to get some drinks. You pressed your lips together, feet shuffling as you waited behind him, and then you finally decided to speak. “You didn’t have to do that.”

“Do what?” he asked, slotting in a few coins into the machine.

“You— you with your friend,” you fumbled, trying your best to speak your mind, but how were you supposed to say ‘cut your conversation short with your friend because of me’ without seeming like a total headass? You could have waited until they were finished.

With a soft smile, he passed a canned, carbonated drink into your hands— lemon, you read— and took one for himself. He didn’t answer your incomprehensible question and decided to walk across the field leading to a bench area, but you were sure he got what you were trying to say. He simply chose not to answer. Or did he? Hell, you didn’t even know anymore. Annoyed, you decided to gulp down the drink in one go to distract yourself, even when the bubbles stung your throat. Jaemin stared at you in horror.

“Were you that thirsty? You should have told—”

“Na Jaemin!”

In sync, your heads snapped towards the direction of the ear-ripping screech, which was quite coincidentally where you two were headed. There were two boys sitting on a bench, one more on the table with a guitar. You assumed that it was one of them that screamed out your friend’s name— probably the one that was making eye contact with him before dramatically turning away with a butchered sob.

“Na Jaemin! Traitor of the brotherhood! I remember when he would still come running the moment I call his name but now— forgotten for dust! He doesn’t care about us anymore, Renjun. He even has a new—”

“What are you on about this time, Haechan?”

Haechan’s evidently fake sobbing stopped, pushing away the boy that he had just been crying into moments prior. “Oh you’re here,” he deadpanned.

It was almost horrific how three pairs of eyes immediately zeroed in on you as you meekly hid behind Jaemin, causing the hairs at the back of your neck to stand as if you were about to die in a fucking horror movie. You could tell from that alone that despite having many friends, these guys were probably his closest— whether it was better or worse, you had no idea. All of a sudden you were dawned with the intimidating task of trying to get them to like you, which was already way too out of reach because the one with the guitar was practically ripping you to shreds with his eyes alone.

“Please stop trying to scare, Y/N. Jeno, you might actually make her cry, stop that.”

“Whoops,” Jeno stopped his death staring. “Hyuck initiated it.”

“Actually it was Renjun, but whatever,” before Renjun could even bite back after being falsely accused, Haechan had already blocked him off and had directed his attention towards you, legs crossed and a critical gaze. “Fuck formalities. Y/N, right? Who are you and why are you trying to steal—”

“Alright, no more scare tactics. Y/N, there are my friends, Jeno, Haechan— or Donghyuck, whichever you prefer, he doesn’t mind— and Renjun. They’re just trying to mess with you, don’t worry. Friends, this Y/N L/N, my childhood friend for like four, five years before she left Korea and moved to LA.”

The term childhood friend lit a spark within the three boys, but before they could do or say anything dangerous that would jeopardize your relationship, Jaemin the ever popular boy was called out by a group of girls. He excused himself to leave for a moment, but not before apologizing to you a million times over (“If you’re really sorry,” Renjun chided before he ran off. “Treat us and Miss Y/N to Kun’s, yeah?”). He agreed without even hearing him properly, and now you were left with his three friends that felt more like three sharks that circled around you. They were fucking out for blood.

“So,” the moment Jaemin disappeared from the parameter, Haechan pulled you to the bench in between him and Renjun with a devilish grin. “Childhood friend, huh?”

Your eyes snapped over to Renjun who was on your right to ask for a way out of this, but the guy was busy filming the entire thing on his phone. Why did Jaemin leave you behind? You had no chance of escaping. Haechan locked you down by swinging his arm around your neck just as you were about to stand. He signalled at his friend who was sitting on the table. “Jeno, drop the beat.”

There was a moment of miscommunication in between because instead of dropping the beat like Haechan asked, Jeno started strumming a sickeningly sweet tune on his guitar. Or maybe that was what he intended. Either way, Haechan was flexible enough to go along with it.

“You know what they say about childhood friends,” another strum. Haechan sang. Was this a fucking oration? “You either end up forgetting each other, hating each other, or you end up toge—”

“That is not—”

“Hush!” he silenced. Renjun was losing it at the side. So was Jeno, because the guitar tune was long replaced by fits of strangled laughter. “It is, clueless Y/N. It is. How many childhood friends have you met that stayed as childhood friends? None, I assume. I’m never wrong, you see.”

“Weren’t you and Mark childhood friends, too—”

“Shut the fuck up, Huang. This isn’t about me. Y/N, listen.”

Grabbing your shoulders, Haechan pulled you away from Renjun, the sudden movement nearly giving you a whiplash.

“From my expert calculations, you and Jaemin are undeniably going down route three, but the both of you are moving at an agonizingly slow pace, correct?” you stared at him, wide eyed, and he was staring right back. “Correct! Now, in order to speed things up a bit, all you have to do is follow Hyuck’s five step guide on How To Trap Your Childhood Friend Into—”

“Isn’t this the same guide that ruined your—”

“I said shut the fuck up!”

The two ended up quarrelling and you ended up being forgotten. You weren’t sure whether to be thankful or be offended. Jeno shot you a look of remorse on behalf of his friends, bringing you to the conclusion that this must have been a normal occurrence. Your eyes shot towards the sky, clouds covering the sun just enough so you wouldn’t be blinded, ears picking up the argument occuring that went back and forth on both of your sides. They’re a lively bunch, you breathed out, a subtle smile on your face.

Eventually Jaemin showed his face again, jogging over to your group and you greeted him with a beaming grin. “You guys seem to be getting along,” he said the moment he stopped before you.

“Oh, Romeo returns,” Renjun decided to stop picking a fight with Haechan. “Where’d you get dragged off to this time?”

There was silence, all four sets of eyes heavily sparked with curiosity as you waited for Jaemin’s response, but the boy was rather hesitant. “Well—” he fumbled, a faint baby pink blush powdering his cheeks. Sheepish, he continued. “Someone confessed to me.”

The first person that reacted was Jeno, who released a loud snort and scooted a little more forward. “Shouldn’t you be used to it by now?” Jaemin indignantly refuted as he continued to be teased by the other two boys, the remaining uncharacteristically not joining in. At that very moment you could feel Haechan looking at you, a gaze that you couldn’t quite put a finger on but it was enough to shoot him a glare back.

“Who was it? Is she pretty?” you chose to ignore the annoying male beside you and decide to focus all of your interest and attention on Jaemin instead.

“Jiah,” he mindlessly answered, pushing Haechan to the side so he could sit next to you. “From nursing? I think?”

“Dude,” you turned your head to Renjun. “Kang Jiah? Holy shit, that’s crazy.”

Noticing the lost look in your eyes, Renjun proceeded to explain that not only was the alluded Kang Jiah arguably the prettiest in her department, she was at the top of her class too. You didn’t understand which part about that was crazy because for you, that was exactly the kind of person that Jaemin was destined to end up with. You wouldn’t be surprised if they do become a thing— well, there was only one way to find the answer to that.

“Well, what did you say? You said yes right?” you asked him, looking forward to his answer.

“Oh,” he shrugged. “I turned her down.”

What?

“Of course,” Renjun scoffed, shaking head with his arms crossed. “Only you would turn someone like Jiah down. At this rate you’ll end up dying an old hermit.”

“You have a crush on her or something?”

“Pff— no? I just think she’s pretty,”

“You’re not fooling anyone, dumbass. Come over here, I’m gonna squeeze it out of you—”

While the two quarrelled again in the middle of the field with Jeno being the one filming this time, you remained frozen in your seat, somewhat surprised. Huh, you blinked, wanting to ask him why he turned her down but frankly it was none of your business. You turned your head to face him. “Wow, I didn’t expect you to turn into such a heartbreaker, Jaems.”

He clicked his tongue, face scrunched into a bitter look of disapproval as reached out to mess up your hair. “Stop thinking weird thoughts,” he scolded. “Instead, why don’t I finally take you to the art building?”

Your eyes immediately lit up after the mention, and he stifled a laugh at your reaction, patting your head once more before sneaking off without the other three’s knowledge.

Jaemin’s tour of the whole campus actually deemed to be pretty useful because after three whole weeks of going to NCT U, you’d only gotten lost seven times— pretty remarkable if you do say so yourself. Within those three weeks, you had actually expected that your old childhood friend would leave you off on your own once you got used to everything, but no. He tried his best to meet you in between classes even though your buildings were nowhere near each other, and the times when he couldn’t, he’d never failed to call or text you. “I promised your parents!” he reasoned, but you weren’t sure if that promise included asking you if you’ve eaten breakfast every morning.

“Breakfast?”

You repeated into the phone as you and your recently made friend Soorim walked to your Visual Studies class. You’d met her during your first week and the both of you immediately hit off. It was nice to have someone else other than Jaemin and his friends, but of course you appreciated their company, too.

“I, uh, actually haven’t eaten— no wait! Before you nag me, I have a valid excuse, okay!” Soorim gave you a sidelong glance, curious and suspicious over your loud phone call so she tried to lean her ear closer to the device but you quickly evaded without even looking at her. “Listen, I was in a hurry to school! I actually planned on grabbing a bite on the way but I… forgot my wallet because again, I was in a hurry and— no, shut up, you don’t have the right to scold me for this, too! You literally left your report at home yesterday and I had to walk all the way back to save your butt so you’re no better, Mr. Na.”

Without even realizing, you were already in front of the doors to your classroom, and so you hurried a goodbye to Jaemin just before you and Soorim took your seats at the near back.

“Alright, I’m in the classroom now. See you later. Yes, I’ll eat after, yes, I promise to double check my wallet from now on. Bye.”

The moment you settled on your seat, setting your phone and backpack aside, Soorim swiveled her chair to face you, legs crossed, hands resting with poise on her thigh, and she batted her eyelashes expectantly. You ignored her, twisting open your water bottle because it was the only thing you had that could somewhat silence your crying stomach.

“So,” she started anyway. The bottle opening was hovering over your lips. You narrowed your eyes at her. What the fuck was she doing. “When are you introducing me to your boyfriend?”

You choked while drinking.

“Boy— what,” with a grimace, you ripped away the bottle from your face, slamming it down on the table. You looked at your friend in disgust. “If I had one I wouldn’t be hanging out with you.”

Soorim rolled her eyes, sneering at you. She held up her hand to the side of her face, all fingers closed except for her pinky and her thumb, shaking it a little. You sighed.

“He’s a friend.”

“The same friend that kept on calling you during our night out because he was worried?”

“Yes, well,” your sweat dropped. “He’s just like that, you know?”

“Sure,” she scrunched her nose, haphazardly throwing her giant notebook on the table. There was a brief moment of quiet that overtook because Soorim decided to stop egging on you as you waited for your professor, but that quiet only lasted for a while. She nudged you, and you looked up from your desk. “Oh, look who's coming.”

Huang Renjun sauntered in with an expression not fitting for a “good morning” greeting, so you chose to remain silent and simply stare at him in judgment as he settled right before you and Soorim, plastic bag in hand and binder in the other. What shat in his coffee this early in the morning?

“This is all your fault,” with a grunt, he dropped the bag filled with all sorts of food and snacks right in front of you, immediately pulling out a chair and sitting his ass onto it after. “My plans of turning up late are ruined because of you.”

Your eyebrows furrowed, picking out a small container of strawberry milk from the bunch. How was this your fault? Furthermore, what exactly was all of this?

“Ooh, you making moves on Y/N, Huang?” Soorim, on the other hand, was digging into the rest of the goods, stealing a bun filled with red bean paste with a happy smile.

“Ew, as if.”

Renjun fake gagged, earning a look of offense from you which he completely ignored and disregarded. He took a box of pepero from the pile, shooting you a smug look before adding.

“It’s from Nana.”

(“You’re at school already? It’s very early. You’ve eaten breakfast, right?”

At a convenience store nearby the school, Jaemin and Renjun decided to eat their first meal there. Though, it appeared that the latter was the only one doing all the eating because his friend seemed to be far too preoccupied with his conversation on the phone to even notice that he took some of his sushi right in front of his face. Renjun silently chewed as he watched the colors on his friend’s face change at each sentence.

“Aish, it’s the most important meal of the day for a reason. How many times do I have to tell you—”

Another piece of sushi stolen. He wondered how far he could get away with it.

“Y/N, I—”

Jaemin let out a long sigh, causing Renjun to drop the food back onto the plate, retracting his chopsticks back to his own food— a bowl of ramen noodles that he had still yet to finish. He discreetly slurped it down as if he hadn’t been stealing since earlier. He was sure that Jaemin noticed though, but knowing his friend, he probably just let him. Renjun noticed the small pout on Jaemin, eliciting his curiosity.

“Okay,” he’s whining, Renjun concluded. “See you later.”

The moment Jaemin shut off his phone, Renjun expected him to say something, to air out why the fuck he was being all that this early in the morning, maybe even tell him what the call was about like a friend would, but no. Instead, Jaemin promptly stood up from his seat, disappeared into the limited selection of isles in the store, basket in hand, and started throwing a mountain full of food with a scrunched out, concentrated expression. Renjun had his mouth hanging open, brows knitted together, and wondering what in the ever loving fuck was going on with his friend as he stared at him pay for everything at the counter.

He sat back, eyeing Jaemin as he returned in front of him, who placed the full bag on top of the table as he took a seat.

“The hell?” a particular carton caught Renjun’s eye, and he immediately fished for it in primal disbelief. “Strawberry milk? You literally hate strawberries and milk separately yet you’re buying them combined? Are you sick?”

Jaemin did not answer. In fact, he dismissed the question completely with a smile, deciding to ask one of his own.

“It’s almost time for your first class, right? Visual Studies?”

At that point it hit him— the call, the food, the stupid behavior of his friend. It was completely obvious.

“Oh,” Renjun dropped the drink back onto the table. “Oh my god, you’re so fucking whipped.”)

“Shut up.”

After hearing Renjun’s story, you couldn’t look at all the multicolored snacks laid in front of you without heating up a million degrees anymore. It was ridiculous. Absolutely ridiculous.

“You’re just messing with me, shut up.”

Renjun scoffed. “Why would I even make up something so stupid? C’mon, Y/N. You know I’m way better than that.”

You couldn’t argue that this wasn’t something Jaemin would do. No, because this was exactly something sickly sweet Jaemin would do and your sad attempt of denial was simply because your heart might actually run away if you admit it to yourself. And as if to give you more assurance or to fluster you even further, your phone vibrated, causing you to jump in your seat. Before either of the two’s nosiness could take a peek, you quickly snatched your phone, leaning your chair all the way back to read the message.

[<nana3: never skip breakfast okok?!? u don’t have your wallet right? wait for me in front of the bio building later. let’s eat lunch together 🥰💚]

Dear lord Jesus, have mercy on your soul. Renjun took your squeak as a sign of victory.

“Wait a minute,” Soorim looked at you wide in a sudden moment of epiphany. “Nana as in Na Jaemin? The fucking Na Jaemin? Is he the friend you’ve been mentioning? The guy you were calling and bought all this? Holy fuck, Y/N—!”

Your body moved before you could think and you thanked god that your professor wasn’t here yet because you would have caught the entire class’ attention when you leaped forward to slap your hands over Soorim’s mouth.

Renjun’s excessive giggling brought you back to reality, pulling your hands off of her with a gasp and an apology. “Oh gosh, I’m so sorry.”

“What the fuck, why did you do that?”

“I don’t know, it felt like you were about to say something stupid!”

She gave a look, half done and half amazed at your willpower. You’d never been this fired up for anything. “Is it stupid to say that one of the hottest guys on campus is literally—”

“Stupid!” another slap on her mouth. Renjun was about to fall off his chair laughing. “You were going to say something stupid. Please don’t even think about finishing that.”

Lucky for you, your professor had finally come in. Unlucky for you, Soorim shot you the signature dirty stare which meant that you wouldn’t be let off that easily. How fun.

Class went on quiet and boring as usual— you’d never been one for technicalities, preferring heading straight into the creative process with nothing but inspiration coursing through your veins, so your professor’s voice was nothing but white noise running in the background as you busied yourself with your thoughts. Your eyes flickered to the floor, cheek resting on your palm, and you gazed down to the plastic back beside your backpack. Twirling your pencil between your fingers, you pulled out a scrap piece of paper, every move that you made triggered by nothing except the abstract flow of your mind.

There was only one person you were thinking of. The same person living inside your head the moment you stepped foot back into Korea, the same person that made you feel as if you were someone special out of all the eight billion people in the world, the same person that bought you three persons worth of food because he didn’t want you skipping breakfast, the same person that felt more like a dream than anything.

Mindlessly, you started sketching the face of your childhood friend, filling in all the details of his face that you could see whenever you closed your eyes, up until the bell rang that signalled the end of the class.

“Y/N! Your father and I are leaving, now!”

“There’s extra money on top of the fridge if you want to eat out.”

Saturday evening. Your parents decided to go out on a well-deserved date that night, leaving you alone inside your apartment. You saw them out the door, locking it up once they left, and as you pressed your back against the white washed wooden door, your eyes darted over to the clock hanging on your living room wall. Six-twenty-three. There were still a few hours until closing.

An art exhibition was to be held on the same evening, and this was the last day that the actual artist was going to be there. Free and you got to meet world renowned artist Ten Lee? You’d be insane not to go. Though, as you made your way into your room to change out of your raggedy old sweatpants and Jaemin’s (stolen) mint hoodie, you’d come to a realization that maybe the venue was too far for you to just walk. Your parents were using the car and it wasn’t like you could drive anyway. You could commute, but there was a better idea in your system.

Opening your phone, a smile involuntarily tugged at the corners of your mouth as you pressed the contact number that seemed to have never left your recents.

[you: nana! are you free rn? there’s an art exhibition out of town! i need a ride :p and you need some time off your studies too bcs i noticed youve been more tired than usual so good idea i think yes hehe]

As usual, he took no more than a minute to reply. But after lighting up when you saw his name flash on your screen, you bit down your bottom lip to prevent a frown from forming.

[<nana3: TT i’m attending a seminar for an org rn y/nie huhu i don’t know what time it’s ending so i’m not sure if i can make it 😫😭]

[you: it’s okay!! jhfdj sorry for disturbing u!! please listen well to the speaker hehe and tell me how it went]

[<nana3: i’m so sorry]

It was difficult to pinpoint how you exactly felt.

You chewed the inside of your mouth, staring at the phone screen. He shouldn’t be apologizing.

After shutting your closet door down to a close, you fell face down onto your bed, your phone thrown over to the side. Yes, you were disappointed, but it wasn’t what weighed you down; the actual reason feeling like a disgusting, throbbing feeling writhing underneath your skin after being suppressed for awhile now. It never left your system the moment you'd arrived, the moment he showed you what his life was like, making you realize the stark difference between you and him.

You couldn’t care less about the exhibition now. In fact, fuck that entire plan entirely. As you were loitering, fooling around, planning on going to pointless events that wouldn’t be of benefit to your future, Jaemin was there, making connections and decisions and taking a step further into life.

It made you wonder what exactly had you been doing these past seven years— what haven’t you been doing, what you should be doing. You were ashamed to admit it, but it plagued the back of your mind since you got here.

Jaemin was far too out of reach.

It made the wrench in your gut worse whenever he made an effort to not make you feel that way. He’d always include you whenever he’d be with his other friends, always made sure that you didn’t feel left out since you came here, whether it be by his little cute texts even though you were in the same room just to make you smile, or by giving you all of his attention despite the many people vying for his. God, you didn’t deserve him. You didn’t deserve to like him.

What did you deserve?

Just then, there was a knock on your front door, followed by a buzz from your phone.

[<nana3: open the door!]

And you did, scrambling out of your bed and nearly tripping over your feet as you ran just to swing it open. Jaemin stood before you with his hair tousled by the wind, a purple and orange varsity jacket covering his frame. He greeted you with brightened eyes.

“I thought you had—”

“I left early,” he smiled at you, walking inside. “Why aren’t you dressed yet? Hurry, I’ll wait here.”

You blinked at him as he passed you by to sit on your couch, unable to understand what led him to such a decision, staring as he stretched his arms over his head with a yaw. He shouldn’t have come here. “Jaemin, it’s just an exhibition, it’s not as important as your seminar.”

He raised a brow at you, stealing a pillow into his lap. “But you want to go, right?”

“Well…” you did want to go, even after your small episode earlier. “Yeah, but—”

“Then it’s more important.”

He smiled at you. You cursed at yourself for letting your heart dither.

“Besides, you actually think I’d let you go out alone this late at night?” Jaemin stood up from the sofa, resting his hand on top of your head with an affectionate gaze. “You should go change. Or maybe not. You look good in my clothes, anyway.”

It was cold outside, so Jaemin made sure that you were wearing enough layers so that you won’t get sick, forcing you back inside when he deemed that you weren’t covered enough.

“Jaem, I’m fucking sweating.”

You huffed as you lugged yourself to the front seat, but your padded winter coat was preventing you from making a smooth landing inside.

“Sweating is a good sign! That means you’re healthy,” noticing your struggle, Jaemin relented to leaving the coat at the back of the car, but keeping it there just in case. He got in after you, starting the car and turning on the radio for some background noise. “Reconnaissance Gallery Right? What’s the name of the show?”

“Mono,” you replied. “It’s by Ten Lee.”

“Oh! I remember you talking about him once,” he exclaimed. “We should hurry then.”

It was a generally quiet car ride, but the silence was welcomed. After asking where you wanted to eat dinner once you were done with the exhibit, Jaemin didn’t talk anymore. Your eyes followed the moving lights that were lit up all around the night scene, and from time to time they flickered over to admire the boy beside you who seemed to be far too engrossed with his driving. An unconscious smile grew, warmth fluttering inside. You were lucky enough to meet him again in this lifetime, even after being set apart for so long.

“Something wrong?”

He asked without looking. He must have noticed you staring.

“No,” you replied with a soft voice. “Just remembered how baby-faced you were back then.”

With a laugh, he shook his head, one hand stretched out to the steering wheel. “You’re one to talk. Alright, I think we’re here.”

You felt a rush the moment you went past the glass doors, met by a relatively large interior with walls painted either black or white and lined with numerous paintings that contrasted the wall they were hung on. With a large grin, you quickly tugged Jaemin’s arm deeper into the venue, your footsteps making hollow echoes inside the place. He was taken aback by your sudden action, heart racing when he felt your grip on him, never slowing down even when you stopped in front of one of the larger works in the exhibit. “Oh my gosh, I love this painting— wait let me take a picture.”

As you fumbled with your phone, Jaemin couldn’t help but stare at you as if you were a part of the exhibit itself. There were more people inside, yet he didn’t even notice them; paintings as pretty as the night sky, yet it was you that he couldn’t take his eyes off of. Your phone camera captured it with an audible click, and he took it as a signal to scramble and take his out too.

Click!

“The painting’s really pretty, right?”

He nodded at you. “Yeah,” it wasn’t the painting that he wanted to capture. He dug his phone back into his pocket after sneaking a brief glance at your excited grin behind the screen. It wasn’t every day that you smiled like this since you were usually reserved. He didn’t want to miss saving a memory. “You wanna walk around more?”

At his suggestion, you and Jaemin decided to move deeper into the exhibit. You knew he wasn’t that knowledgeable about art, but he still listened intently whenever you told him something about the strokes and composition of some of the works displayed. You hadn’t run into Ten Lee yet even after an hour of walking around and taking pictures, but you didn’t mind at all. Jaemin froze in front of a certain painting— the visage of what seemed to be a face formed together by different objects, drawn in a style similar to the rest with the black and white motif, graffiti-esque structure, and the overall whimsical and abstract feel to it. There was a smile on his face, you wondered what he was thinking about.

“One day, it’s gonna be your paintings that will be displayed here. You promise you won’t forget about me when that happens, okay?" he started, turning his attention to you. “You should also paint a portrait dedicated to me," he joked, nudging you a little.

You smiled at him. Jaemin noticed that this wasn’t your usual smile, but he chose to not say anything. “Okay,” you breathed out before looking down seconds before he could see your expression melt away. How was he thinking so highly of you when it was him who was too far to reach?

He was about to ask— he didn’t know what to ask— but he would say whatever just to erase whatever was bothering your peace of mind. But he wasn’t able to. In fact, just as he lifted a hand to rest over your shoulder as an act of comfort, your head shot up, turning to face the sudden eruption of a commotion that Jaemin had failed to notice in his worry for you.

“Holy crap,” you gasped. “Is that—”

Ten Lee, just a few feet away from you with cameras and crowd surrounding him. You wasted no time to run to him, grabbing Jaemin’s hand in a flash to drag him behind. His eyes softened upon seeing the excited bounce of your hair as you ran. At least your spirits were brought back up again.

Jaemin watched as you nervously fiddled with the hem of your jacket as you waited for an opening to talk to the famous artist, how you would stand on your toes to peek above the small crowd and stand back down again after feeling too shy. Eventually the crowd dissipated to only around four or five people. This was your chance. You looked at him Jaemin. He nudged you with his shoulder. ‘Go,’ he mouthed. You pressed your lips together before finally deciding to march up to the artist. He didn’t realize you have been holding his hands until you let go.

“A-ah, hi!”

He followed after you in case you were feeling too nervous, but he was relieved to see that Ten Lee was pretty down to earth and easy going for someone famous. He stayed a few steps behind you as he listened to the ongoing conversation.

“I can’t tell you enough how much I adore your works. Especially, Monarch! I took a picture of it earlier and it’s so much more captivating in person,” you said, watching as Ten signed your phone case. “Actually, I—I look up to you a lot as an artist. A few of my paintings were actually inspired by your style, but of course it— it would be an insult to compare.”

“You shouldn’t compare,” he scolded, adding in a little sermon about your art is yours and that it should stand alone as your own. He handed your phone back, a smile on his face. “Can I see?”

You couldn’t believe what you were hearing. In a flustered rush, you quickly scrolled through your gallery folders to find the specific paintings you were referring to, and Jaemin, out of curiosity, hovered over your shoulders to see as well. As you passed through your works with your friend’s mouth hanging open in awe (he wanted to gush about them, but figured this wasn’t formally appropriate), his eyes caught a glimpse of an image that you quickly swiped past— far too glaring too miss because he was sure that it looked something like his face. It was a different kind of pride that he felt when he saw that.

Ten’s eyes flickered as he saw through your paintings, something formulating within even after you hid your phone. He looked at you, grabbing your hands without any warning which caused you to squeak. “Y/N, right?” you nodded, wide eyed. “You know, I’m hosting an online gallery within the upcoming weeks. It’s for young, aspiring artists like you to be recognized at a larger scale.”

Hold on, you tried to catch on to what he was saying. Was he—

“Are you interested?”

—serious? Was he actually serious? It looked like he was because when he let go of you, a business card suddenly materialized in your hands. Holy shit.

“Think about it, okay? Just email me your portfolio and everything. Who knows, what if you get recognized and scouted after this?”

He winked at you, shooting you a thumbs up. This had to be a dream. You were still trying to process the piece of fucking paper that you were holding and now all of a sudden Ten came in between you and Jaemin, swinging his arms around your neck and giving you a pat on the back

“Anyhow, thanks to the both of you for coming to my show. And Y/N—” he looked at you with a grin. “Looking forward to your more of your works.”

Ten disappeared off with two other people, their footsteps clacking against the cold, tiled floor. You stared at the card in your hands for a few moments— Chittaphon Leechaiyapornkul, it wrote— before snapping your eyes back to Jaemin who was wearing a far too large smile. “Oh my god.”

Jaemin wasted no time in drowning you into a hug, knocking the air out of your lungs when he nearly toppled you onto the ground.

“Y/N,” his voice was soft in comparison to the roughness of his actions, sweetly fluttering into your ears as he rocked you left and right with his squeezing embrace. “I’m so proud of you.”

His words nearly broke you down to tears.

“This calls for a celebration, right?” he pulled away, hand automatically falling to hold onto yours as he led you to the gallery’s exit. “My treat! I know a place nearby, we should eat an entire feast!”

“Nana, you already treated me to lunch last time, I can’t just—”

“No, no no! I’m treating you, okay? This is your achievement so I should congratulate properly.”

There was no point arguing with him when he already had his mind set, but even during your drive to a nearby barbecue place, even when you were already halfway with the meal, you kept on insisting that you’d pay him back for all of this someday. He’d only laugh it off, telling you that he doesn’t mind as long as you’re enjoying yourself. You downed a shot of soju after hearing that, hoping that it would make you forget momentarily about how fast your heart was beating.

Somehow the clock eventually struck nine, and rather than going home, the both of you took an impulsive detour to a nearby public beach. The sounds of waves crashing against the solemn quiet of the night was heard as you neared the area, bringing you to a moment of peace.

Instead of going to the sandy shore, you two decided to take a spot on the beach cliff right above the rolling water. “Be careful,” Jaemin whispered from behind as he guided you along the rocky surface, heating up from the way he was so, so close with his hands steady on your back. You two sat side by side on the cliff, underneath the veil of stars, with the ocean right in front of you.

“Are your parents okay with you staying out this late?” he cocked his head to face you in a manner that was far too cute for you to suppress a giggle.

“Jaems, they’d probably allow me to disappear off to Italy as long as you’re with me.”

The both of you broke into laughter, but it was eventually replaced by the noises of the ocean. You breathed in the salty scent of the sea, folding your knees to your chest with your arms hugging them together. For a moment your eyes flickered over to Jaemin, and a chord was strung, tugging your heart towards him, but it was impossible for it to leap out of your chest so it only rattled against your ribcage desperately just like the waves. You stared at the way his dark hair melted into the night sky, the wind brushing it away, the way he had his legs stretched out freely over the rocks while you squeezed yourself as small as you could get, and lastly, the way he flashed over to look at the exact moment that you wanted him to.

If there was such a thing as a perfect instance where the stars of the night sky aligned, it would be this.

“You know,” you started, letting your arms fall to your sides as you looked over to the distance. “I envy you sometimes.”

Jaemin was taken aback by your confession.

“I also admire you,” you pressed your lips together tightly, forming it into a smile. “A lot. I admire you a lot. To the point that it made me feel like you’re living in a completely different world from me and that I wasn’t deserving of you.”

You’d finally mustered up the courage to tell him everything you’d pent up during your first month back here— it was better than just letting it fester into something worse, even if there was a risk of completely ruining your friendship. It was better than playing pretend.

“We’re both only a year apart but it seems like you have your life all tied together while I’m still barely able to walk on my own two feet. I wouldn’t even have been able to go to the exhibit if it weren’t for you,” you crossed your legs, a mirthless laugh slipping past your lips as the wind brushed against your cheeks .“I don’t… want to seem ungrateful for everything you’ve done or make you feel bad or anything, because Jaemin—”

You turned around, looking at him.

“If I had the choice to stay back then, I would have gladly chosen to spend those seven years together with you.”

Jaemin stared at you, speechless, unblinking. He had a gut feeling that there was something bothering you all this time, but he never had thought that it would be this.

“But the feeling of seeing you again after all this time is a feeling that I wouldn’t trade for the world either,” you hummed, looking down as you traced the creases of the rocky ground with your fingers, a shaky breath slipping past you. “If only… I wasn’t just so insecure then maybe everything would be perfect.”

For a moment there was nothing— only the lulling sounds of the sea that became quieter after you laid your heart out to the ground. The next moment, Jaemin spoke up.

“I got into an accident four years ago.”

You shot up in a single instant.

Jaemin laughed a little, bringing his hand to the crown of your head in assurance. “I had a herniated disc which got worse during a dance camp. It was definitely scary, how it seemed like I was in a standstill for two years while everyone else carried on with their lives,” he continued, letting his hand drop once more right beside yours. “It’s hard to get out of that hopeless mentality. It takes small steps, but once you do, things will eventually start looking up.”

He shot you a smile, eyes twinkling under the light of the moon. You couldn’t help but put your head down after hearing everything.

“I understand how and why you’re feeling that way, don’t worry I’m not upset. You don’t think I am, right?” he caught you sniffling, leaning forward to take a look at your face but you kept on turning away. “Y/N— Y/N, look at me, okay? I’ll be your personal cheerleader from now on, yeah? Up until you realize that you’re actually greater than you think you are.”

He was too good to you.

“I’m— I’m sorry I couldn’t be there when you were having a tough time.”

You silently muttered, meekly sneaking a glance at him to see that he was actually smiling at you this entire time. He’d always been like this.

“It’s alright, you didn’t have a choice, right?” he assured. “And I’m all better now, as you can see. I can even jump off the cliff into the ocean without having a single scratch!”

Right, you managed a laugh from his silly proclamation. He lit up upon hearing you. Maybe you can try to be like that too.

“What’s important is that from now on.”

There had been a gap between the two of you that entire time, but Jaemin bridged it the moment his hand brushed against your skin, his pinky interlocking with yours against the coarse ground. You met his eyes. He shot you a smile. That same smile that you could never get enough of.

“You’ll be with me.”

“Jaemin, please put your shirt back on.”

When you walked back into the living room, easel and canvas in your arms, you did not expect to be met with your childhood friend-slash-boyfriend mid-strip. In fact you were far too in shock that you dropped everything to the floor at that exact moment, only managing to utter those previous words once you were busy picking them all back up and not looking at him. He quickly ran to help you.

“Oh, I thought this was—” he passed you a paintbrush, helping you stand back up once you’ve gotten everything. “Aren’t the models for your classes usually, like, naked?”

“You think I was gonna paint you nude?!”

“Well,” he mused, holding his shirt to his bare chest. “If you want— okay, sorry! Shirt on! Shirt on!”

You settled down the easel that you just threatened to launch at him near the window where the afternoon sunlight was leaking through. A few days prior, you had contacted Ten Lee regarding the online exhibit, asking when the deadline was because you wanted to include one more piece in your portfolio.

“Nana, can you sit over here?”

There was a stool situated a few feet in front of the easel and right beside the window. He did as you said, now fully dressed and sitting properly and well behaved. You marched up to him, moving around his limbs into a specific pose. Jaemin wore a subtle smile as you grabbed his arms to a certain position, his shoulders into a certain angle, and when your fingers landed on his jaw to adjust his head, he just couldn’t help but throw all your work out the window by pulling you towards him by the waist.

“What are you—” a kiss fell on your nose. Jaemin shot you a cheeky smile.

“Sorry,” he said. “I couldn’t help it.”

You weren’t inclined to do anything else but forgive him, even if it meant refixing him into position, but somehow you managed. Running back behind the easel, you wore a satisfied smile upon seeing the composition, flicking your wrist to start the initial sketch. There was music running in the background. Jaemin sat still for thirty whole minutes.

“Can I move for a sec?”

“Yeah, yeah,” you answered. “I got the basic shapes down anyway.”

He let out an amazed gasp, lips forming into an ‘o’ shape. “So cool,” he said, and you let out a little laugh.

You were trying to focus, but in between a few strokes of your pencil, he wiggled his eyebrows when you looked at him again. You threw your head down to suppress a barrage of giggles. “Okay, this is— this is going nowhere. Can I just take a picture of you?”

Even taking a shot of him was difficult because he just wouldn’t sit still. He’d always do something to make you laugh or smile just when you were about to take a picture. You scolded him, telling him that all you needed was a few takes then the both of you can make a run for some popsicles at the nearby store. He straightened upon hearing, and you finally got to do the job.

“Do you have a title in mind for the piece?” he asked, just as you finished taking the last photo of his face up close.

You did have one. In fact, you’ve had it in mind for a while now.

“Yeah,” you answered, smiling. “Mahiwaga.”

Haechan, for whatever suspicious reason, volunteered to treat you out to lunch today at a family restaurant near the uni. You did not know why, and he would not tell you why, but you could not pass up free food. You texted Soorim to follow just in case you needed mental support because as you sat across him, looking up from your phone while munching your fries to catch the terrifying stare he was giving you, you could tell that you needed at least one other person around.

[you: dude, i think hes actually planning on killing me please hurry up]

[soorim: omw babe]

[soorim: but ur paying for me right]

You sighed, telling her yes you already ordered her food, and she replied with an annoying heart that you refused to mark read. Just as you were about to shut off your phone, ready to hear whatever Haechan was brewing, another message was sent your way.

[<nana3: baby, i saw the exhibition!! 🤩 you know, you’re so amazing, you know?!?! nana is super super proud of you 🥺💚 and i’m sure your parents are, too!! i sent the link to all of my friends yesterday hehe. also i’ll call you immediately after my class, ok?? don’t forget to drink lots of water today 😚 byebye! 💚]

“Are you two fucking yet?”

Haechan’s question caused you to choke on your fries, dropping your phone to the table so you can reach for the glass of Sprite. You looked at him, appalled. “I’m sorry?”

“What are we talking about?”

Soorim had belatedly joined in the party, pushing you farther into the seat to make room for herself. Her eyes zeroed in on the table, choosing the giant burger to attack first. You scrunched your nose as you looked at her.

“We—”

“Whether Y/N and Jaemin have done the dirty yet,” Haechan interrupted. You looked at him in offense and horror. He reciprocated with a deadpan stare. “You have, haven’t you? I went to Jaemin’s house at four in the morning yesterday and—”

“Why were you at his house at four?!”

“Doesn’t matter.”

You looked at him in disbelief, scoffing, and you looked over to Soorim with the words ‘can you believe this guy?’ ready to fire from your tongue. You could not say it. Not when Soorim looked absolutely compelled by Haechan’s bullshit allegations. She even stopped scarfing down her food. You made a mistake in calling her up here.

“What matters is that he looked absolutely fucked out absolutely naked, but not only that!” a scrunchie. He pulled out a scrunchie from his backpack. That was yours. Even had your hair on it. “This is yours isn’t it? I’ve caught you red handed, Y/N, now answer me—”

Haechan’s eyes were out to kill.

“You wrapped it, right? I’m too young to be called Uncle Hyuck so please tell me you did.”

“We are not—”

“That explains why you were walking all weird yesterday!” Soorim exclaimed. “Y/N, you know you could tell me these things, right? There is no—”

“We are not fucking!”

This wasn’t the best conversation to have at a family restaurant.

A waiter stopped serving the table next to you, it’s occupants (that included three kids and their parents) froze and looked at you in horror. An innocent passerby spilled his drink on his tray. You sharply inhaled, bowing your head apologetically. Thank god there weren’t any managers here— the three of you might have actually gotten kicked out.

With a cough, you collected yourself, giving both of your companions the stink eye for putting you in such a compromising position. “Can I not sleep at my boyfriend’s place without— without doing anything of that sort?” you huffed, ignoring the red hot heat creeping up your neck. “And as a matter of fact, I was walking weird because I fell down the while lugging plywood up the stairs, so shut the fuck up.”

The two of them let out a shriek at the same time.

“Boyfriend?! And what— you fell off the fucking stairs?!”

“Did you do as I told you?! Did you follow Hyuck’s five step guide on How To Trap Your—”

“Quiet!”

You shushed the both of them before the three of you actually got kicked out.

“Yes, boyfriend. Yes, I fell off the stairs. No, I did not follow Hyuck’s guide to whatever,” you spitefully took a sip from your drink. “You never even told me what the hell that was.”

As Haechan started to further explain his guide with Soorim enthusiastically taking everything in, you were caught by the buzzing of your phone. The screen lit up. Someone sent you an e-mail— the sender you did not recognize at all. You wiped your fingers with some tissues on the table before taking the device, clicking on the notification immediately after.

“Right. After you tell him that you’re— hey! Y/N, are you even listening?”

You shot up. Haechan noticed the distraught look in your eyes. His brows furrowed together.

“What’s wrong?”

The following weekend, you went out and treated Jaemin to dinner at a fancy Chinese restaurant despite his many complaints. He was about to pay for everything again, but this time you were faster in stealing the check. Afterward, you stopped by a nearby hardware store to buy another two pieces of plywood. You’ve been painting a lot more frequently lately, and you’ve been experimenting more on larger scale works. It was fortunate that Jaemin was there to help you bring the large sheets of wood this time.

“There we go.”

Jaemin settled the wood resting upright against your living room wall, right beside a few stained cans of paint underneath layers of newspaper. You thanked him, smiling, and he ruffled the hair on your head.

“You should ask me whenever you need to do some heavy work alright? We don’t want a rerun of last time,” you cringed upon recalling. That wasn’t a pretty fall. “How are your legs? Have the bruises healed?”

“Almost. You don’t have to worry,” you assured him. He sighed in relief.

Dinner and a shopping trip weren’t the only reasons you called him out tonight. You had actually been meaning to tell him something within the past three days. Your parents knew, Haechan and Soorim found out during lunch last time, Renjun and Jeno might have already found out thanks to their loudmouthed friend. All that’s left was Jaemin. It was his reaction that would help you make the decision.

But why was it so difficult to start talking?

“I’m gonna head out now,” he hummed, pulling you into his chest. You bit down your lip, contemplating, and maybe he noticed your unease and hesitation, as if he could hear your unsaid thoughts, because he lightly pulled away to look at your face and spoke. “What is it? Do you wanna tell me something?”

Of course, you thought to yourself. He’d probably know you’re hungry before your stomach could even rumble.

You gently pried away his hands from your arms, a hollow smile directed to him. Concern flashed through his eyes, but he held back his tongue, waiting for you to say your mind instead.

“Yeah…” you started. “I— I do have something to tell you.”

That was what you said, but as the clock ticked a couple dozen times in the background, you still had yet to tell him. It wasn’t easy to tell him. Because you were afraid that the moment you opened your mouth to squeeze out a single word, you might not make it to finish the entire sentence. If it were him, this might have been easy. But you were not, so it took a little more effort on your part to let the words go.

Maybe you shouldn’t have looked him in the eye, because the moment you did, your eyes stung from the threat of tears and so you jerked your head to the side.

But you weren’t able to evade, because Jaemin decided to follow you. You turned away again, looking towards the unplugged television, but it was once again replaced by Jaemin’s dark brown eyes. Your eyes stung, your lips pressed together, and at that moment you couldn’t help but laugh at his ridiculous actions throwing your head down in the midst of it, but your laughter got choked up by the sudden streaming of tears that you had come unprompted.

Jaemin panicked.

“Hey, hey, baby, what’s wrong? What is it?” he ducked down to reach your face, cupping your cheeks with his large hands as you wiped away your tears. “It’s okay, you can tell me, baby. I’ll listen to everything, okay?”

It took you a while to regain your voice, but Jaemin patiently waited with words of consolation. You couldn’t understand how one person could have this much goodwill and kindness in them.

Eventually your sniffling died down, and so you finally willed yourself to speak. “I— I joined Ten’s exhibition, right? And— and there was a possibility that other artists or institutions might be interested in the participants, right?”

“Mhm,” he replied, stroking the back of your head as you tightly gripped the front of his shirt. “Go on.”

“I— I got scouted? You know PIOA? In Paris? They— they offered me a full scholarship if I…” you paused for a moment, biting the inside of your mouth. “If I transfer there for the remaining months until my last year.”

Jaemin took a while to absorb it, silence flooding along with your occasional sniffles.

“Isn’t that a good thing? Ah, ah, baby look at me, look at me,” he grabbed your shoulders, frowning when he made contact with your red stained eyes. He brushed your cheek with his thumb, heart heavy from seeing you like this. It pained him to see you this way. “Why are you crying? Don’t you want to go?”

A beat of silence. You swallowed, speaking in a small, shaky voice.

“Do you want me to go?”

Another beat of silence.

“Of course! Can you imagine that out of all the people that joined that exhibit, they chose you! Your talent and hard work shouldn’t go to waste,” Jaemin inhaled sharply in between his speech, managing a smile for you to see. “I’m really proud of you, Y/N. An opportunity like this doesn’t come that easily.”

“Jaemin.”

You softly sounded, letting your head fall into his chest. He held you close, as if you were leaving at that instant.

“You know I was so happy when we got in touch again, when I came back to Korea. I know I don’t have a lot going on for me, but I could easily forget all of that because I’m with you,” once more, you felt the tears start to rise up again, but you tried your hardest to swallow them down. “It hasn’t even been that long since we got reunited and now you’re… you’re just telling me to leave you again miles, miles away as if it’s nothing.”

“It’s not like that, Y/N. It’s hard for me too, you know,” he muttered into your hair with a slight whine, his chin resting over your head. “But it’s not like we’re never going to see each other again, right? We managed for seven years, what’s two or three more?”

When he heard you stifle a laugh, laughing despite your sniveling, he couldn’t help but laugh along too. Once more and perhaps the last that night, he pulled away so he could look at the smile on your face, eyes still red and watery, and he pressed a warm kiss on your forehead.

“You have nothing to worry about, baby. We can visit each other during breaks and—” he breathed out, lips curling into a smile. “I’ll call you every day.”

Right, you wiped away your remaining tears, huffing out a brief, airy chuckle.

You looked at him, hopeful, earnest.

“Every day?”

You asked.

“Every day.”

He answered.

You were never going to get used to airports. They always carried a bitter, cold air that signified a goodbye that you were far too familiar with. Today was no different.

“Don’t forget to drink your vitamins alright? It’s a new environment so you might need some time to get used to it. Oh! And—”

“Dude, you’re worse than her actual mom.”

Jaemin shot a smile to your mother at the mention, who was waiting for your group to finish from a distance with your father. Your mother was to stay with you in Paris for a week until you got everything settled down while the four boys, Soorim, and your father decided to send you off today. Though, unlike your usual experiences with leaving and returning, today was much louder, more rowdy. It was a nice change— you only wished that it would last longer.

“It’s okay, I appreciate the concern,” you laughed. “Do I have to report back to you everything before I go to bed?”

“Well, if you can,” Jaemin mused, locking his pinky finger with yours and swinging your hand into the air from side to side. “Kidding, kidding. I trust you’ll take care of yourself there.”

A chorus of gagging noises broke out when you pulled his shirt, burying your face into his chest, prompting him to smile and wrap his arms around you. You drowned them out, though, only focusing on how warm he was despite the cold brushing of the wind, how he held you with so much gentleness that one would think he was afraid that he might break you.

It was funny how free you felt when you were trapped inside his embrace.

“How many times do I have to say goodbye to you at the fucking airport?” you grumbled, tears welling up again and so you wiped them away with your sweater sleeve. “Wait, why aren’t you crying. Aren’t you even at the very least sad that I’m gonna leave?”

Jaemin chuckled, replacing your hand with his to brush away the stray tears.

“If I cry in front of you then you probably won’t even board the plane.”

You hated that he was right.

“I’ll do it after you leave,” he let out a laugh, tucking a strand of your hair behind your ear. At that moment, the pre-boarding announcement rang throughout the area's speakers, signalling that it was time for you and your mother to go. Grabbing your suitcase, you sent a grateful look to each one of them— your father, Jeno, Renjun, Donghyuck, Soorim, and—

Jaemin suddenly grabbed your suitcase handle before you could go, his hand right beside yours. You locked eyes with him, wide and surprised.

He landed a kiss right on your lips.

“Call me when you arrive, okay?”

You mindlessly nodded, still in the midst of recovering from shock. Your mother called out to you to start moving.

As you walked away, head still locked behind, you watched as the four screamed, cheered, and teased your boyfriend as they shook and pushed him around like a ragdoll, while he just kept on looking at you with a smile.

“Don’t worry, Y/N! I’ll record his crying face!”

Haechan screamed despite being several feet away already, and you stifled out a laugh.

You might have to say goodbye today, but time will come when you would meet again.

Across the cobblestone tiled sidewalk, people were walking about, the streets were filled with tourists and natives, the mid noon sun was just in reach. Summers had always been crowded in the city, and you were swimming in the middle of the crowd in a far too inappropriate attire, sweating as you spoke into the phone.

“Oh, yeah. I’m on my way to the gallery now— I had to stop by at a cafe first, though.”

“You seem busy.”

Jaemin’s voice echoed from your phone’s speakers. The streetlight turned red. You followed the crowd as you crossed the street.

“Yeah… It’s a lot of back and forth work, even on the last day of the show, but it’s all worth it,”you replied. “Did you know that people kept on asking me who my muse was for Mahiwaga? Ever the popular boy, even when you’re not here.”

It has been a year and a half since you first got to France. Things have been going well on your part with your budding art career— and so far you’ve guested in three exhibitions, but you have yet to have one solo. Even though you and Jaemin promised to see each other during breaks, it was practically impossible to align your time. He was busy with internships and his organizations this year and so were you. But one thing the both of you have faithfully maintained throughout the course of your time away was calling each other every day, even if it was just for a few minutes.

A cyclist sped past you. Jaemin’s voice was heard again. He laughed at your last remark, saying that he wasn’t that popular, but all of a sudden his voice turned into a more serious tone.

“Since you have a lot of work these days…”

Your brows furrowed, squinting as the light shone into your eyes. You clutched your sling bag, heels clattering as you passed by the cream, brown, and grey buildings.

“Should we call less often?”

You stopped in your tracks.

What?

“No— no, Jaems, what are you saying? Are you sick? Are you not feeling well?” you were almost late for the opening, but you couldn’t care less at the moment. What was he on about? Call less? Never had that crossed your mind even once. “I don’t even get to see you anymore, so if anything… we should call as often as we can.”

A few people passed from behind. His end of the line was silent. Your lips scrunched into a frown, confused.

“Jaemin?”

“That’s a relief.”

Before you could even ask him anything, the call ended.

“What the hell?” you huffed, staring at your phone screen in perplexity before you returned it to your pocket. Maybe he was feeling a lot more lonely than usual— that was unavoidable, but the both of you made it work. You should ask him what that was all about later. Now, you really needed to head to the gallery. With a sigh, you marched forward, stopping at an intersection where the large, eggshell white walls of the gallery stood across.

You stopped before the crosswalk, the lights green, and a few vehicles passed by, and your thoughts were once again clouded by Na Jaemin and why did he suddenly propose that. Was he getting sick of you? Was this his way of hinting a breakup? Your face contorted into a look of horror. No, you shook your head at the notion. He literally sent you a picture of a weird keychain last night  saying it reminded him of you. Another sigh. The light went red. You crossed the street.

Maybe it was because you were thinking too much of him, maybe you were missing him too much, but the moment you reached the middle of the crosswalk, your heart suddenly stopped, legs froze, eyes stuck to the sight right in front of you.

There he stood, right before the front stairs of the gallery with dozens of people disappearing and passing by. He spotted you, eyes lighting up, the corners of lips automatically quirking upwards. He sent you a small wave.

You ran.

“Hi— woah!”

Maybe you were causing a scene, but you didn’t care. You couldn’t find it in you to care when Na Jaemin was right fucking here. He chuckled when you suddenly ran into him, wrapping you in a tight hug that matched your own. “You know, I was afraid that you’d actually agree to limiting our calls,” he started, and you looked up, the light shining into your eyes. Jaemin’s smile was as bright as the sun. “I thought I would have to deport myself back to Korea.”

Your lips quivered, unable to hold it back. Yeah, you shook your head, a shaky laugh leaving your lips. It’s always been like this.

“Is this where you’re holding the exhibit? Wow, it’s a lot bigger than in pictures.”

There are points in your life where you’re met with a choice— to stay or leave, to smile or cry. Always him between something else. Twice. You’ve said goodbye to him twice choosing to leave. For a moment, it might seem that you’ve chosen the other. But that was never the case, because at the end of each day it was him you were thinking of, it was him that your lines end, it would always be—

“Y/N? Y/N? Are you crying?” he exclaimed, frowning as he wiped away your tears. “Ah, it’s such a happy day today, you shouldn’t be crying.”

“I missed you, you dummy.”

—Him. You’d always choose him. Na Jaemin. Jaems. Nana. Your childhood best friend. Your boyfriend—

He smiled at you, eyes shining, pressing a kiss on your forehead before taking you into his arms once more with a shaky breath. “I missed you too.”

—Your mahiwaga.

hannie-dul-set, 2020.

[bridgertonbabe]

Your Teachers AU is a work of art 😍 I love it so much I’ve actually developed a head canon for this story that Hugh goes to Ben saying he’s thinking of proposing to his gf in Paris. Ben inside goes “welp, time to yeet myself out the nearest window” but externally goes “wow how romantic, tell me how it goes!” Then Sophie is like “did Hugh mention anything about proposing in Paris?” (because she knows Posy really has her heart set on it) but Ben’s trying/failing to play it cool

... Not gonna lie, that is a very good headcanon. Benedict holed up in the English office that lunchtime, contemplating going out and buying a bottle of wine to drown his sorrows before he teaches his last two classes, weighing up the odds of him getting fired and wondering if losing his job would be worth it so he wouldn't have to be around Sophie when she one day returns with a shiny engagement ring on her finger, officially cementing the fact that she would never be his. In his last two lessons of the day he's unusually snappy towards the students, all of whom immediately worry something's wrong since the English teacher is acting a lot more like his grumpier older brother. And at the end of the day Sophie pops into his classroom, asking if he's alright since her last class had previously had him for the lesson before and they told her about his uncharacteristically crabby mood. He brushes it off, excusing his bristly behaviour with the reasoning that he received some bad news, though he tells Sophie he doesn't want to talk about it when she gently pries. He then deflects, trying to change the subject by asking how she is, but moments later she asks him if Hugh mentioned anything about proposing and he feels his heart starting to crack when he confirms that Hugh did and Sophie starts buzzing with excitement. She then asks him to tell her if Hugh says anything else on the matter, which makes Benedict question the element of surprise, with Sophie replying that she can keep a secret before she winks and leaves. Benedict is beside himself to find that he's somehow ended up as the go-between for the soon-to-be engaged couple, hating his life like he's never hated it before; and then the very next week he bumps into Posy as she's dropping off some exercise books to Hugh at lunchtime, and it's only when she waves her newly adorned hand at him and excitedly begins telling Benedict about how Hugh proposed to her that he finally realises that Sophie was never with Hugh and that he's entirely misconstrued the situation.

[wyn-n-tonic]

Golden, Like Daylight -- Part IV

Word Count: 1,925 Warnings: PTSD. Drug use. Ben Affleck. Panic attacks. Bullet wounds. Smut (not explicit but it's there). A/N: Your kind words mean literally everything to me and I have been sobbing between the warmth shown to me over this series and also how much I love Francisco Morales and want the absolute best for him.

MASTERLIST | PART: I | II | III | IV | V | VI | VII | VIII | IX

Gif by: @uuuhshiny

Luna hasn’t stopped wailing since Sunday, the one and only day Frankie said he wouldn’t be able to call.

It’s Thursday and both their lungs are close to giving out.

One Morales woman hyperventilating herself into fitful sleeps, the other only sobbing through held breaths in stolen lonely moments of peace and quiet.

Kristyn had taken up residence in the spare room, making sure Leah slept and ate. She was the one who cashed in Leah’s sick days with the school, forging a bullshit sick note when she went into work.

Leah is currently distraught because her husband might be dead in South America, we don’t know.

That’s what the first one said, dashed out on the keyboard in a petty moment of frustration. She might be the only one of Leah’s sisters who didn't want to lob his fucking head off every time she shed a tear but it didn’t mean she never wanted to do it.

Patient is suffering from a prolonged migraine and intensive nausea. Follow up appointment scheduled for next Thursday at 9am.

That should fucking do it but she’ll have to start checking off the vacation days soon. Dip into family leave for Luna.

Alexa held her on that first Monday, talking her through the panic in a puddle of spilled coffee. The paper cup splashing across their knees in the hallway as concern emanated from the AP Lit room at their backs.

Somewhere at the base of the Andes, her husband was being pried out of a crashed helicopter by the only other men she’d ever truly loved. William was shot, Benny was reckless. She felt it all in her body as she was driven home, helped into the shower, held in her bed but not by the arms she craved.

“He's coming home,” Deana brought dinner that night, her big sister cutting into her steak like she was a child at risk of choking again, “he will do anything he can to make sure of that.”

“What if he doesn’t, D?” Leah’s taken on the stare, everything and nothing all at once, “what if he doesn’t come home this time?”

“I promise you, Lee, okay?” She reaches out to push aside hair damp with tears, “I've never seen a man so in love.”

“Yeah…” she’s quiet, “he promised me too.”

And she told him to stop making promises because he doesn’t keep them.

I think you put a baby in me, Francisco Morales.

The tears well over her eyes, spilling onto already salt stained cheeks.

He made love to her like it was the last time he would ever see her, the last chance he would ever get. He poured his entire being into her, drunk off the feel of their bodies together. She could feel him in the hollow of her ribs, an aching that called out for the comfort of his beating heart against hers again.

Would that be so bad?

She sobbed out, startling Luna’s own ragged cries again, afraid that she would never know warmth against her cold hands again.

—————

“Hey,” they're huddled against the onslaught beneath a barely-there cliff, labored breathing in tandem, “you still with me?”

Frankie’s panic attack came on slowly, a rolling storm in the distance the moment the helo crashed in the valley.

Bad landing.

His fight or flight response has his lungs in a vice grip but he still manages a laugh, “I think I should be the one asking you that.”

“You know it’s gonna take a lot more than a stray bullet to fuck me off,” he’s smiling but Frankie knows how much blood he’s lost, how long it takes for a wound like that to clot without medical intervention.

It’s true, it’ll take a lot more than a stray bullet to take William Miller but that was before, when they had back up. Out here, though? Surrounded by his brothers in arms? Having done what he just did?

Francisco Morales has never felt more alone.

“Fish,” William hits his knee against his, “where are you?”

His eyes refocus on the tepid water pounding all around him, the world coming back as he takes a deep breath, “are you afraid, Will?”

“You gotta be more specific, Frank, I’m terrified of everything.”

He’s quiet when he speaks, “me too,” barely above the downpour.

He sees Will nod in his peripheral, “I know.”

“Will, I’m afraid I’ll never see them again,” and when he chokes, he realizes he’s been crying.

“No, you can’t think like that.”

“I know, but I can’t stop it either, like…” trailing off, he lifts his face to the pressure of the water; it’s the sweetest thing he’s felt in days, “what if this is the last shower I ever take?”

“Fish…” Will reaches for him but he’s cut short.

“No, listen to me. If anything happens to me out he—“

“Nothing is going to fucking hap—"

“Shut up and let me finish,” his rage and sadness is burning hot through him, it takes everything within his being not to choke on air as he speaks again. “If anything happens to me out here, Will, take care of my girls. Please.”

The blond nods his head, heavy with exhaustion and pain, “until the very end of my life, Frankie.”

The relief that spreads through his body is better than any drug he ever tried, he feels himself slipping into an upright sleep, his heart at peace for the first time since he left his bed.

“But,” Will’s voice catches him on the edge of consciousness, “I would also face down the end of my life to make sure you see them again, do you understand me? If the only thing standing between you and a bullet is me, don’t fight. Leave me there and run like hell. You’re going back to your family.”

“But if I don’t make it…”

“Fish,” Will's laugh is drenched in the space between them, “are you saying it’s your last will and testament for me to marry your wife?”

“Fuck off,” his words are clipped, strained, “and don’t call me Fish.”

—————

They still, eyes up to the screen of the baby monitor as they hold their breath for another sound from Luna’s room. The baby settles back into silence, her small chest rising and falling on the grainy feed.

He remembers Leah opening the military grade surveillance equipment at the baby shower, the shake of her laughter as she held onto Benny’s shoulder to anchor herself to the chair.

“Should we check on her?” It’s small, a rushed question of a concerned mother.

“I said a baby monitor, Benjamin, not a prison security camera.”

“Absolutely not,” Ben grabs her hand, “This is better than any of that shit you’ll find at Target. Video means there’s no wondering either, you can just look up and assess the situation, more rest. That’s important, you’ll need to savor the little that you get.”

He pushes a lock of hair from her face, damp with the tears of the day and the sweat of the night, “no, baby, we don’t want to disturb her.”

“Yeah,” Will chimes in, his beer bottle held loosely in his hands, “Frankie should’ve been training you on sleep deprivation this whole time, you’re spec ops yourself now.”

“But what if she wakes up?”

“Well…” the corner of his mouth lifts to close the fan at the corner of his eyes, “it’s a good thing she can’t see us through that thing, right?”

“Francisc—“ the irritation of his name is finished in a heady moan lured from her body by another slow drag of his hips.

The crook of his nose slots against hers as he finds her lips again, the warmth of the room around them is nothing compared to their mouths on each other. Bathing in shared heat, her fingers entwine into the curls at the crown of his head, the other hand palm up to his chest. And as the beating of his heart races towards her burning touch, he submerges himself once again.

His firm grip holds the hinge in her leg, fingers digging into the sensitive skin that fills her lungs with fits of laughter and light. He braces himself against the bed, the aching in his forearm dulled by the soft, breathless whimpers intoxicating his entire being.

His voice is washed out when he finds it, “mi sol,” lips dragging across her own, “mis estrellas.”

Her eyes find his, heavy with admiration and trust. “Francisco,” she is drunk and drowning in the love of this man, “finish me.”

He shifts to cradle her jaw and as he trails his other hand up her thigh, he sinks within her once more. Finding his release against her own, he is convinced they’ll never be able to fully untangle again.

He presses a kiss to her nose.

My sun.

Her forehead.

My stars.

Her lips.

My whole sky.

—————

I think you put a baby in me, Francisco Morales.

He snaps back to reality, Santi and Tom’s voices echoing all around them.

His head is hot, he’s pushing past Will with concern set so deeply in his eyes he fears he’ll break right there.

Would that be so bad?

“Fucking bullshit!” Tom’s face is red, Santi having finally said what all of them are thinking.

He feels the weight of Leah in every fiber of his being, slotted perfectly against his body.

“We're all on the hook for this, are we not?”

I should’ve said no.

“God damn this fucking horse! Stop it!”

All those years blinded by loyalty to authority, Frankie never talked back to his leader but the man in front of him isn’t a leader. He’s a whiny child who’s lost his toys and Frankie hates him.

Biting back what he wants to say, he holds his hand up in a show of camaraderie, “Relax.” His finger quirks up as if he’s scolding a tantrum, “Relax. We’re not picking at the fucking scab right now, okay?”

Tom stares him down, like he’s weighing an argument against him too but Frankie’s done. He meets the taller man’s gaze, this man he would’ve died for.

“One foot in front of the other. Come on.”

This man he almost has died for.

“Let's go. Jesus fucking Christ.”

His true allegiances don’t lie to this man anymore or the gun at his hip. Not the money or the mules. He left that splintered fantasy about twenty feet back.

He’d throw this man over if it meant going home right now.

The money too.

None of it is worth a goddamn thing to him if it means he’ll never see the way that the light bounces off the gold in Leah Morales’ eyes ever again.

The same honeyed flakes in the brown of his daughter’s bright gaze.

I think you put a baby in me, Francisco Morales.

He made love to her like it was the last time he would ever see her, the last chance he would ever get. He wanted to pour his entire being into that woman, ensure that he would live on if lost to the Colombian jungle off a narco's bullet.

Would that be so bad?

He was scared but, truly, would it be so bad?

But it would be because he could truly leave her with nothing. No money, no husband, no father to her babies.

He lost count of the days he hadn’t called.

He makes his way up the mountain, following Tom’s bitching, wishing it was Leah leading him home instead.

TAG LIST: @justanotherblonde23 | @greeneyedblondie44 | @icanbeyourjedi | @princess76179 | @bbuckysbeardd | @notcookiebelle | @knivesareout | @empress-palpat1ne​

[soulmate-game]

Awesome, cool (on RE: Marivel). Caaaan we get... uh, Soulmate Game version of marvel/ml crossover? Marinette x Peter? Or just Marinette meeting Peter via Dr. Strange in your Lady Strange AU (post-endgame maybe??). Take your pick (or do both?) and thank you if you do write them!!

MUAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAH

Yes.

This is a crossover between my Lady Strange AU and my Soulmate-Game AU, but since this is a different pairing it receives a different bond. I hope you like it!

—*—*—*—*—*

“I think somebody drew on me in my sleep,” was the first thing he told his Aunt and Uncle, who just blinked at him for a long moment with their toothbrushes half in their mouths. Peter was supposed to be getting ready for school in his own room, but instead, well.

His guardians’ eyes landed on the two childish, but extremely clean doodles on the top of Peter’s shoulders. They were ladybugs, one in red ink and the other blue. Only the outline was colored at all.

The little boy was tearing up.

“I don’t know how they e-ended up here. Why would s-somebody draw on me? It’s mean. Is this the boogeyman? Does…”

He was interrupted by May and Ben’s laughter, shrinking into himself as the adults tried to get ahold of themselves. Ben was the first to sober up, sinking to his knees and carefully laying a gentle hand on Peter’s naked arm, making sure not to come close to the new mark on his shoulder. The poor boy had stopped putting on a shirt altogether in favor of worrying over the doodles.

“No, no,” Ben soothed, running his other hand through Peter’s cinnamon hair. “No boogeyman. This is a good thing, Petey.”

He sniffled, looking up at his father figure warily, a hopeful spark in his eye. “It is?”

“Yeah. Do you remember what we told you about soul marks?” He asked his nephew, who was starting to calm down. The boy nodded, pushing his thick glasses back up his nose from where they had started to slip.

“Almost everyone has one,” he started to recite, furrowing his brows to try and remember what he had been told.

“And they can come in hundreds of different ways,” May filled in, kneeling beside her husband. “Some people have a picture or a name on them to represent their Destined. Some people are colorblind, or missing just one color until they meet their other half.”

“Some people can switch bodies or hear a song in their head that tells them how their soulmate is feeling,” Ben agreed. “There are tons of Bonds. Not everyone has a physical mark. But you,” he nodded to the ladybugs on his nephew’s shoulders. “You do.”

Peter started panicking again. “Oh no, I have two soulmates? What am I gonna do? What if they don’t like me, how can I love two people, I—“

“Relax, honey,” May rustled Peter’s hair with a soft smile. “I don’t think you have two, I think your mark is more complicated than that. Look, the ladybugs are exactly the same except for the color. The mark will probably do something exciting later, when you meet them.”

“Something exciting?” Peter parroted, making Ben chuckle.

“Yeah, but for now they are just cute pictures. Pictures which better be covered up by a shirt soon, or you’ll be late to school bud.”

“Ack!” He had forgotten he was still shirtless. “Sorry Uncle Ben!” Peter Benjamin Parker dashed back to his room as fast as his seven-year-old legs would carry him.

—*—*—*—*—*

Seven years later.

Marinette hummed, analyzing her reflection. Her halter top looked nice, a new design of hers. Tikki hovered near her, similarly happy with the clothing. And then the Kwami squeaked in dismay when her holder reached for foundation.

“Woah woah woah, what are you doing Marinette?!” The little god asked, tempted to take the makeup away. “The shirt makes your soul marks stand out so beautifully! I’m not a huge fan of spiders, but yours are so cute!”

The pigtailed girl blushed bright red, looking into the mirror to see both of the little doodles on her shoulders at the same time. They really were adorable, one cartoony spider on the top of each shoulder, one red and one blue. She didn’t wear the crop top to show them off though. She wore it because she needed to feel confident, and her usual blouses weren’t cutting it. She wanted to feel powerful, free, anything to escape the feeling of water droplets on her skin and the sight of people pinned by buildings, drowning. Blue skin, glassy eyes—

Marinette’s shook her head, taking a deep breath. The halter top she was wearing was a carefully, artistically dyed swirl of baby blue and baby pink. Strategic gathers in the cloth swirled the two colors around one another, bringing them to a small pinpoint of pale purple at the very point where the cloth had first been pinched and curled.

It was whimsical, it was childish and mature all at once. It was what Hope felt like to Marinette. The very thing she needed to try and heal from the whole Syren disaster a few weeks earlier.

“I like them too,” Marinette finally responded to her Kwami, running her fingers over the blue spider, the one on her right shoulder. It had completely vanished when she got home after the Syren attack, proving her father right from when he had told her all those years ago that her Bond was likely more than just a few doodles. “But only my parents know about them. I know the Miraculous suits are pretty much indestructible, but I don’t want to take any chances with this crazy world. If my shoulders ever get exposed while I’m Ladybug, I don’t want anyone to be able to connect that to Marinette,” she explained, slowly and regretfully spreading foundation over both marks and spritzing setting spray over it so that the makeup wouldn’t move anytime soon.

She knew why her blue spider had temporarily vanished. She had thought maybe she had just been imagining it before, when she would occasionally be in the middle of an anxiety attack and think that her blue spider was a little paler than usual. Or on the few occasions when she was going days without sleep, or overextending herself for her friends and her red spider would look a little dull.

She wondered what that meant for the person on the other end of their connection.

—*—*—*—*—*

And then she found out. She was fifteen, and it was about five in the morning. Marinette jolted out of bed, feeling a searing heat on her right shoulder. Throwing her shirt off, she saw it— her red spider was glowing. She felt herself trembling, but she didn’t know why. Tears were raining down her face, but she wasn’t sad. Her hands felt oddly wet and sticky, but they were completely clean.

The teenager shared a long, bewildered look with Tikki before carefully letting her fingers brush over the red spider. And she understood.

Anger. Guilt. He’s blaming himself. He’s dead. My fault. My fault. Blood. Is she feeling this? I’m making her feel this. Stupid. Worthless. Mistake. Mistake.

Marinette pried her hand away from the mark, gasping from the influx of emotions. She didn’t know details, probably to protect the identity of the person on the other end of the Bond, but she got the gist of it. The longer she had stayed on the connection, the more lucid thoughts she got straight from the boy himself. None of it had been promising.

She was able to surmise this; someone close to him died, or was dying. Her hands probably felt sticky because of the literal blood on his. Oh Kwami, he probably saw them die right in front of him. Probably held them.

And there was no Cure to reverse it for him.

But the most important part was that he was blaming himself for it, and Marinette couldn’t stand it. She ground her teeth, and touched the mark again with full intention of making sure he knew it wasn’t his fault. That he wasn’t worthless, and that she wasn’t mad at him for this.

But nothing happened. She tried touching the blue spider, but nothing happened. She tried meditating, hoping they had a mental connection—nothing. Absolutely. Nothing.

The heat was gone from her shoulder, the connection over.

Marinette raged at her inability to help a boy she never met.

—*—*—*—*—*

Four months later, she knew the situation was about to be reversed. She stared down at the old man in front of her, frail and weak but forcing himself to stand and hold the heavy box in the air in front of him. The weight made his twig-thin arms shake, and the pigtailed girl quickly snatched the item before it or the man holding it dropped.

“Master,” she whispered, her eyes frantically searching his. “Don’t. The magic, Tikki’s magic, can help. I’ve been practicing. Don’t—“

“Marinette Dupain-Cheng, daughter of Sabine Cheng and biological daughter of Steven Strange,” the old man started, making Marinette snap her mouth shut with the force of his words. She didn’t know how he found out about her biological father, but didn’t bother asking. It wasn’t important, and he had too many possible ways of finding out through magic. No, his words right now were the only things she found worth focusing on in that moment. “I, Wang Fu, find myself too old to carry on my duties as Grand Guardian. But you are the best student I could have ever asked for. A True Ladybug with a soul of creation, a disciplined mind, and an open heart. I name you as my heir, and as the new Grand Guardian. Do you accept the transference of my title?”

Marinette didn’t want to. The wise eyes boring back into hers said that he knew, that he would understand if she refused. But Marinette also knew that refusing would not grant her the happy ending she wanted from this situation, only regret. His eyes said that he knew that, too.

“I accept,” she didn’t know how she was able to croak that out, but she managed somehow. “Wang Fu, I will gladly take on the title of Lady Strange, the new Grand Guardian. I vow to protect as you have protected, to guard the innocent and punish those who try to upset balance with the Miraculous. To keep the Universe as peaceful as possible with my power.”

“Then let my wisdom become yours,” Fu finished the sacred speech, closing his eyes as a bright green mist was born from his feet. It grew, sliding up his body until it exited his head in a giant luminous cloud like a swarm of fireflies on a misty night. Marinette refused to close her eyes, stubbornly keeping her gaze on Master Fu as the magical green fog covered her own body and sank into her skin. The knowledge of the Guardian’s language and traditions appeared in her mind, along with the rest of Fu’s wisdom and experience with the Miraculous.

“Young lady? Are you alright, you’re crying.”

Marinette took a deep breath, her eyes still locked onto the brown orbs that no longer recognized her. Slowly, she put the miracle box down on his bedside table.

“Yes, I’m fine. How do you feel?”

The old man wobbled, and the young girl had to catch him before he fell. “Let’s get you into bed,” she decided for him, getting a nod and a grateful smile in return. It was after he was in his bed and his eyes were starting to droop that he spoke again, this time in Mandarin.

Which Marinette now spoke, like a final gift from him to her.

“Are you my granddaughter?”

Marinette bit her lip, placing a gentle hand on Fu’s shoulder before responding in the same language;

“That’s right.”

She didn’t need a heart monitor to know when his pulse stopped. She could feel the magic of life drain from him, the Creation that made him who he was disappearing from his form. She dropped, her legs no longer able to support her weight, and sobbed into his comforter.

It happened then, she could feel a phantom hand on her right shoulder. Trying to provide comfort but not able to speak.

Thank you, thank you, thank you. I’m sorry. I’m so, so sorry. I want you here. But thank you. For everything. Thank you.

She didn’t know if she was trying to send those thoughts to Fu or to the boy trying to help her despite never having met her.

—*—*—*—*—*

This is part 1, because Tumblr doesn’t allow me to post the whole thing. Stupid word limits >:[ part 2 right here 

[gay-poster-child]

Headaches, Heartaches

Posted on my AO3, but realized that I forgot to post it here. So enjoy! Read it on my AO3 right over here! Headaches, Heartaches

PROMPT: Concussion

SHIPS: None

“Klaus gets his skull bashed open on a nightclub floor in an attempt to protect his brother. The death fixes itself, somehow, but the headache stays.”

—xXx—

Klaus wakes with a gasp.

There are people around him, and he immediately flails in surprise at the crowd as they step back, surprised by his sudden reawakening. His hands touch something warm and sticky on the ground, that he vaguely recognizes as his own blood, but everything is too loud and bright, in a sickening red, yellow, purple, green, back to red again, ad infinitum, and there’s a throbbing ache in the front of his head. Everything’s just too much. He looks around for Luther, because his brother was about to get his head smashed in with a pipe, but—

Luther had left him, he reminds himself. He’d already left.

His ears are ringing, like it did that one time a bomb went off two meters to his right and he hadn’t been able to hear properly out of that ear for a week. Standing is difficult when his muscles feel leaden and uncooperative, but he manages, somehow, even though the floor feels like it’s being tugged out from beneath him as his stomach turns. For a moment, he wonders if he’s going to spill the meager lunch he’d had onto the floor, but the nausea passes.

“Klaus,” Ben says, but his voice is muffled, like cotton is stuffed into Klaus’ ears, and he doesn’t acknowledge him. He just needs to get out, because he feels like he’s suffocating. “Klaus, what just happened to you?”

Tongue feeling too heavy, Klaus stumbles out of the rave, pushing past people as they watch him, everything blurry around the edges. There are paramedics entering when he gets to the door, the flashing lights of an ambulance outside, and one of them tries asking him something, but he just shakes his head. A hand grabs his arm, but he recoils, a pang of shame rolling through him, and the paramedic releases him immediately,

He exits out onto the rainy street, and he can breath again.

Muscle memory takes him along the street, because he’s been homeless long enough that he knows most of the city by heart. He tries to ignore the cloying scent of perfume and blood and sweat sticking to him like a second layer of skin, because it’s just making the headache worse, and he can distantly hear Ben talking, but he doesn’t want to listen to Ben right now. Listening to Ben was what got him into that rave, what ended up getting him killed, even if it didn’t stick. He thinks about the elation he felt when he thought he was going to see Dave again, and feels like throwing up.

Between one footstep and the next, he’s suddenly home again, fingers and toes numb from the chilly night rain, although everything feels distant, like he’s watching himself through a camera. The front door’s locked, the gate closed, but he remembers how to get inside of the mansion from when he used to sneak in and out before morning.

The basement window is small, but Klaus is thin as a slip of paper, even when he’d somehow put on muscle and weight when he was in Vietnam. That just shows he was eating better in the middle of an active war zone that he was at home. When he pries the window open, it’s easy enough to lower himself through feet first. His knees buckle when he lands, and his wrists are jarred as he catches himself before he can smash his teeth against the concrete floor, but the warmth, contrasted against the coldness outside, is comforting.

Klaus briefly considers the merits of sleeping on the floor, exhaustion seeming to weigh down his bones, but he knows he should at least bathe himself before he falls asleep, because if he doesn’t, the others would see the glitter and sweat and assume he’d been out partying when it was Luther getting into trouble. He laughs at the thought, that for once, he wasn’t the fuck-up, and tears leak from his eyes as he curls into himself.

He just wants Dave. God should’ve let him stay.

Eventually, he drags himself to his feet, because the floor is uncomfortable, even if he doesn’t think he wants to ever get up again. There’s screaming, somewhere in the house, but he doesn’t know when there isn’t screaming anymore, because the only moments of quiet he’s ever had are when he’s either drugged to oblivion, or clinically dead.

It takes him a little while to escape the basement, because he doesn’t know which exit is the one that leads upwards towards the main building, and he finds an elevator that seems out of place in the house and what he thinks is Pogo’s bedroom before he manages to locate the staircase. It takes an embarrassingly long amount of time to build up the strength to climb them, but when he does, it seems almost like he’s gliding more than walking up the steps.

He walks through the foyer, and he knows that he’s dripping water and diluted blood on the floor, but he doesn’t particularly care about ruined floorboards. He clumsily walks up the second flight of stairs, turning left towards their bedrooms, and squeezes his eyes against the pattering of raindrops against the glass that sounded too loud, like gunfire in the jungle, and he can’t breathe past the smoke and the smell of fire and the screaming—

Forcing himself back into the house, he’s standing in the bathroom his legs carried him to. Peeling off the tank top, stepping out of his pants before he’s even started to fill the tub, he turns the faucet to the hottest temperature, dropping to his knees in his underwear on the cheap checkered linoleum floor before pressing his brow against the ceramic ledge.

He’s okay. It’ll be alright. If he says it enough, maybe it’ll become true.

“Klaus,” Ben says gently, and he feels the faintest brush of a hand against his shoulder, cold enough to almost be tangible, but not quite solid enough to be corporeal because he knows he can’t do that, “you can’t fall asleep here. The water’s running, and you might have a—”

“Shut up, please,” he whines. Ben‘s talking in a hushed tone, but his voice is still too loud. The headache is like someone’s drilling into his skull, and he presses his palms shakily against the pressure points on his forehead, the places he knows will help soothe it. There are other voices in the building, and their Sergeant’s orders echoing through his head, and a woman’s sobbing in the corner, and it’s too fucking loud. “Please, please, please—”

“Klaus— Klaus, calm down.”

The room was rattling, the mirror on the wall and the tub’s feet against the floor. He sucks in a shaky breath, and releases it, then repeats the action, and it stops. The woman continues her sobbing, but she seems more subdued.

“I’m okay,” Klaus mumbles, “I’m okay.” He repeats the words in his head, wraps them tightly around his heart. He’ll be okay eventually, even if he isn’t. Ben looks at him, and maybe he’s really seeing him, now, not just as the junkie brother he was forced to follow around for the rest of his un-life.

He takes a bath, and the water turns red with the blood he washes from his hair, massaging his scalp and cupping water in his hands before bringing it over his head. The water is scalding, but it keeps him grounded, even as it turns his pale skin an irritated shade of red. He doesn’t allow himself to sink below the surface, knowing that he might fall asleep and drown if he does that, but after the incident in the rave club, he doubts it would be able to permanently kill him. He didn’t want to think about what their père might’ve done to him if he’d known about that particular ability.

When he gets out of the bath and dries off, walking towards his bedroom with his clothes tucked under his arm and a towel wrapped around his waist, he can hear the sounds of moaning and a bed thumping against the wall, coming from Luther’s room. It would be entertaining to know that Luther was finally getting laid, if he hadn’t died so he could take her home. Sighing, he enters his own bedroom, and hopes he’ll be able to get some sleep. He’s too damn tired.

“I’m sorry for making you chase after Luther,” Ben apologizes, walking into the room even after he’s already shut the door on him. He’s the last person that Klaus wants to talk to, besides Luther. “I should’ve known that a nightclub would be a trigger for you. I can’t believe he just— abandoned you there.”

“C’est la vie,” Klaus yawns, the words slurring together. He tosses his dirty laundry in a pile, and pulls on a striped tank top, and some clean underwear from his drawer. He doesn’t bother with pants. “I’m fine, Ben. Just let me sleep.”

“You shouldn’t sleep with a head injury,” Ben warns. “Maybe you should go to the hospital.”

Klaus laughs breathily, closing his eyes. “I hate hospitals, Ben. You should know that.”

“I just care about you,” Ben says, sitting on the edge of his bed.

More than the rest of our siblings, Klaus thinks bitterly, then immediately feels guilty for the thought. He’s the one who’s forcing Ben to stay, but Ben’s the one who chose to stay with him. They’re a team, even if they argue sometimes, or if Ben almost gets him killed saving their other siblings’ asses. They’re a team.

“We’re okay.”

[pri-rp]

New Gamer Hotshot

@anomalystudy

It'd been another tournament. Unlike last time, the new stage and boss didn't glitch out, but some new player was making this a tight game. They were neck to neck the majority of the time, and this punk was cracking wiseshots too. Having a comeback for Mitch, and just laughing at the mind games. The kid was good, if having too much fun to be taking it seriously... right?

but then the taunt. The taunt right before the winning score. This 'DrownedStatue' fool did a two finger salute and wink right at Mitch before taking the goal. The fact he was playing remote meant Mitch didn't even get to know the genuine face, but before the log off he strolled over with that same grin he's been wearing the entire match

God, the voice couldn't be that old, right? 'DrownedStatue' spins about and at least does the gentlemanly thing to offer Mitch's model a hand. of course, the sentence after was less gentlemanly "'spose that number one rank's not just for show." cocky, for someone who's name has never come up before in tourneys before.

the player model was short like a kid, scruffy blond hair, bright blue eyes and... they even added points to the model ears. Like some elf! the outfit was typical, though if possible it was green.

[cdyssey]

Miscalculations

Summary: The toll of being in the multiverse for too long finally exacts its price on Olivia Octavius. A/N: I've been babysitting for family friends these past two days, and the little one made us watch *Into the Spider-Verse* five times over, so I wanted to write something.

AO3 Link At the end of Olivia Octavius’s world, there is blood, so much of it, too much—staining her shirt dark around her midsection where old incisions are prying themselves loose, and dribbling warningly down her mouth in a thin line.

Cellular decay.

Accelerated decomposition.

As her erythrocytes continue to implode upon themselves, her organs will shut down one by one until the lack of oxygen finally squeezes upon her tired heart like a vice.

She was out of her own dimension for too long.

If you stay in this dimension too long, your body’s going to disintegrate. Do you know how painful that would be, Peter Parker?

She thought she could have control of the multiverse if only she could stabilize her body with exposure to gamma radiation, theorizing that the treatment would do as it had done for the infamous Bruce Banner and reinforce her cellular structure—but she miscalculated.

And Olivia never miscalculates.

No, that isn’t true, an awful voice in her head says, right here and right now, on her fucking death bed. Her conscience has always gloated rather than informed. You miscalculate all the time.

“No, goddammit,” May Parker growls. “You do not get to leave like this.” 

Surprise jolts through her unpleasantly considering everything that is happening to her body; with an effort that isn’t minimal, the physicist opens her eyes to see a familiar shape kneeling by her side, pressing gnarled hands to her stomach wounds, desperately trying to staunch the bleeding.

But there is so much of it, too much.

Out of the periphery of her eye that isn’t blackened, she can see the shadows of the various Spider-Fools simply standing a few feet away, watching. For they understand, better than maybe most, that there is nothing to be done, no more fight to be had.

May Parker’s hands are vivid with her blood, drowning in it.

“What?” Olivia attempts a bloodied smile that doesn’t quite cut through the pain in her eyes. “You want me to walk away in cuffs? Cheeky, cheeky, May Parker. I thought you were oh-so-straight-laced.”

“Shut up,” May snarls, and the scientist is startled to see that there are tears in her cornflower blue eyes, threatening to spill over, to leak, to pour.

And then she knows.

She knows, she knows, she knows.

That May Parker still loves her, too.

That maybe she never stopped.

And the realization of it takes her breath away, what little of it is that is left.

“May,” she says, her voice surprisingly soft, even though her shivering hands are firm as she slowly brings them up to rest upon the other woman’s. “Cellular decay. Multisystem organ failure. Within a few minutes, I'll likely go into cardiac arrest. It will be quick, maybe even painless.”

“No,” May mutters. “No, no, no. We could get you to a hospital, offset the worst of your symptoms until we can regenerate cellular life in you. An ambulance is coming. ETA five minutes.”

“You’re thinking with that big, ‘ole heart of yours again.” The thing Olivia loves and hates most about the old bat—how much she cares. It’s sickening. It’s stupid. It’s wonderful. “I’ve lost too much blood, and my exoskeleton implants are compromised, which—“

But May cuts across her with an explosive swear.

“—likely means that your spine is also compromised,” she finishes, eyes closing in horror. 

Liv smiles weakly, a gesture which ends in her coughing up phlegm and blood.

“Correct.”

Doc Ock’s comeuppance has finally arrived, both decades late and years too soon. It is quieter than she imagined it would be, less of a kaleidoscope of many colors than it is a coagulated darkness. She can see black beginning to edge upon her vision, eradicating the excess, eliminating anything that isn’t May Parker.

How fitting.

“I went to twenty-seven different dimensions, May,” she whispers, “and they were all so beautiful—vivid, unique, and extraordinary, each a fully realized universe unto its own...”

When she closes her eyes, she can conjure them even now, the shapes of them, their textures, their scientific impossibility... and it is with awful reluctance that she pries them open again. The darkness is so soft and inviting. Oblivion isn’t as scary as she had imagined it to be.

Maybe she can explore its expansive confines, understand it in the same way she does quasi connectivity in dimensional warping.

Or maybe Olivia Octavius can simply rest.

That might be a nice change in pace.

“Liv...” May whispers, though, and it’s more than enough of a reminder for the sole reason she’d ever stay if she had a choice.

(She doesn’t have a choice.)

“And in every world, I did what a scientist just a tiny bit full of herself would naturally do. I searched myself out. In every dimension... and I asked myself, damn, do I really look like that? In eighty-nine percent of the worlds, I had a bowl cut, May! A godawful bowl cut!”

“Is this really what you want to talk about?”

“Yes—I mean no. No.” Olivia’s dark brow furrows as she herself tries to remember the point of bringing up the twenty-seven universes and the self-exploration and the bowl cuts. Her brain’s a little wonky at the moment, dull and heavy, like a rock sunk in a lake.

But then it hits her.

Realization and remembrance.

Dimension 24. Earth C-432.

The cats. The apartment in Brooklyn. The cozy sweaters. The peace.

“In the 24th iteration of Earth I visited, I looked a lot like I do now—geeky, foxy, big hair, and less than enviable eyesight... I was intrigued naturally, and so, when I found out where I lived, I paid myself a little visit.”

She knocked politely on the door before not so politely letting herself in, tentacular extensions swarming.

She always did like a dramatic entrance.

Fuck, Olivia J. Octavius moaned. I invented inter-dimensional travel again.

May E. Parker looked up from her mug of coffee and simply raised an unimpressed brow.

Well, at least you didn’t smash the door this time.

“I'd... she’d never gotten the implants, so she was paralyzed from the waist down... do y’know what that means?”

Of course May does.

Beneath Liv’s hand, her knuckles tense, the ridges warm against her cold palm.

“We never separated then,” she rasps, her voice strained, a hundred emotions thick. “I must have taken you home from the hospital, like I told you I would.”

“Yeah.”

A single tear leaks out of the corner of Olivia’s blackened eye, dripping down her cheek and falling away. If she'd been able to, she would have tried to wipe it away before May Parker could see.

“Were we happy, Liv?” She whispers, and she looks guilty about it. She has never cared much for hypotheticals, while Olivia built her entire career upon them—a delicate balancing act, always doomed to collapse one day.

She just never wanted to admit it.

Indeed, she just wanted to see how high she could go.

She didn't want to touch the stars.

She wanted to rip open the fabric of the fucking universe.

“We have two cats, one called Marie and the other Curie... and we live together in an apartment in Brooklyn. Nice place. There’s a Dunkin’ Donuts just around the corner. Parker visits at least three times a week unless he’s busy saving the city or the world or whatever the hell else he has it in his mind to save. He has a kid—a boy named Ben, but everyone calls him Fox because of the hair.”

We like to beat each other at Scrabble, even though we’re both sore losers. Four times a week, we head up to Columbia to do guest lectures on particulate matter and cellular structure and quantum physics. You’ve organized all of our medicines in alphabetical order, and I tease you about it because of course I do. Once a month, we replace the flowers on Ben Parker’s grave and have a picnic in the cemetery. We’re thinking about moving to a tiny house on Long Island that’s more wheelchair accessible, and we can hear the ocean every time we wake up in the morning side by side. There are wedding bands on our fingers, simple, understated, even though I'm pretty fucking sure they're made of anti-metal. In a different world, in an entirely separate universe, we are together forever, as long as we both shall live.

“I think so. I think we were happy,” she finishes quietly, “but I didn’t stay long enough to know for sure.”

“Too bad,” May Parker finally says, her tears falling freely now.

With the last of her strength, Olivia squeezes her hand.

“I... I heard myself say one thing, though, right as I was leaving.” 

By leaving, she left a gaping hole next to their door just for the hell and spite of it. 

“I chose correctly, it seems.”

In that warm apartment, May E. Parker laughed bluntly before she returned, quite dryly, You never miscalculate, do you?

“Never.”

Always.

Olivia Octavius miscalculates all the time.

[dnawield--a]

No longer I defend. The choices I pretend could make amends that heal the loss of precious time.  //  My conscience paralyzed against the rising tide of haunting memories that drown a wasted life.

                    IND. PRI. SEL. BEN TENNYSON          CODED BY BENZY                              EST. 2013.                         REVAMPED MARCH 2020.

[devil-in-those-eyes]

Sweetheart part 3-Ben hardy

Hi ya’ll. I thought i’d post this part because I leave for vacay soon and I cant promise i’ll have time to drop a new chapter. But the part 2 didn't get much love, so please don't forget to give it a heart, reblog or send me something so I know you guys are still enjoying it!

A/N: italics are a dream!

Y/N

           Your stomach swirled as you sucked in a deep breath, wondering how you would get past both of them and kick the ball between the two water bottles that marked the goal posts. You remembered when you used to play with Matt, Ben and Val and remembered all the dirty tricks he would pull on you and you wondered how long it would take for him to pull a trip and send you tumbling into the grass. You watched as Ben lost his smirk and stared down at your feet, bending his knees and preparing for your move but as soon as you started dribbling the ball, you tried to move around him but he wrapped his arms around our waist and picked you up.

           “Ben!” you yelled as he and Chris laughed, Chris jumping at the chance of Ben starting to twirl you around and taking the ball down to your end of the field. “Not fair!” you called out as his grip on your body tightened and he dug his face into your neck, chuckling against you. But as he twirled you around again, you couldn’t stop yourself from smiling and laughing because this was not what you meant by playing dirty.

           You heard people cheering for Chris but Ben had turned you away from it, so you didn’t get to see him kick the ball into the goal. Ben stopped twirling you and put your feet on the ground, his breath puffing against your bare shoulder, while your head dropped against his shoulder, your hands clasped in his around your waist. His smooth cheek brushing against yours as you stared up at the big blue sky.

           “When was the last time we played together?” He asked, his breath still heavy in your ear.

           “I was seventeen,” you answered immediately, remembering how he did a slide tackle. He had apologized profusely when he saw the scrapes filled with the dirt of the dried mud patch you tumbled in and your dad had told him that he needed to slow down on the slide tackles.

           “Still got that scar?” He wondered, one of his hands leaving your waist and touching your elbow, brushing over the barely there white scar. “Right here?”

           “Ya’ll done?” Christ called out, popping the warm bubble and making you instantly step out of Ben’s grasp.

           You couldn’t bring yourself to look at him, nor could you even look at your sister because you knew she had watched the whole thing. Six fucking years and he still made you fall apart into a messy puddle at his feet. You faced Chris while Ben just seemed to look your way, wondering what it would take to make you not curl away from him.

           “You’re playing unfair,” you said to Chris, hanging your hands on your hips while Chris walked towards you with the ball in his hands.

           “You were kicking my ass,” Chris pointed out. “You and Ben are like legends in this family, if I beat you then I get bragging rights.”

           You laughed, “Isn’t actually winning if you’re cheating, Chris.”

           “Does it matter, love?” Ben asked from beside you, grinning.

           “What do you get out of this?” You asked him, finally looking into his eyes. “Proving you can still beat me?”

           “No,” he shook his head, hanging his hands on his hips and shrugging softly. “I get to spend time with you.”

           Shock brushed over you as his words filled your head and you bit your lip. This seemed suddenly to you because you had spent the last six years apart. What did it matter to him if you two spent time together? He didn’t care enough to join your family in saying goodbye to you at Heathrow, why now?

           Chris cleared his throat, clearing feeling awkward. “Can we play now?”

           “Yes,” you answered instantly and looked at Chris, “You start.”

           All three of you headed to the middle of the make shift field. You could feel Ben’s eyes on you but you focused on Chris, to had the ball on his side. Someone whistled, singling the start, so Chris moved but it didn’t take long for him to try and pass the ball to Ben, which you stole and headed for the other end of the field, just missing Ben’s hands.

           You were just about to kick the ball into the goal when Ben caught up to you and wrapped his arms around your waist. “No, no, no!” You exclaimed as Ben pulled on your body until you both tumbled onto the ground, rolling around until he ended up on top of you with a knee between your thighs, his hips pinning you to the ground and his hands tightening around yours on either side of your head.

           “Go, Chris!” Ben yelled as you stared up at him. You watched as his eyes slowly looked back to yours, drinking you in with a smirk as both realized how close your faces were.

           “What’re you doing?” You whispered, feeling breathless from the weight of his hips on ours. If he moved his knee a little higher, it would nudge into your core, that was throbbing just from the position you two were in.

           “Chris thinks I’m helping him, but I saw it as an excuse to be close to you.” Ben murmured, his words almost drowned out by the cheers of Chris’ parents and any other on lookers.

           “Matty will see,” you pointed out, waiting for him to crawl off of you at the mention of your brother.

           “We’re not kids anymore, sweetheart. I really don’t care if he notices.” Your heart screamed at you following his words.

           But I do. A voice inside your head whispered and Ben must have noticed the words inside your round eyes because his hands loosened their grip on yours just enough for you to tug your hands free. He stayed on top of you until you pushed into his chest and shoved him off of you. You smiled at Chris as he tried to talk to you, but you muttered good job and headed for your sister, ignoring her all knowing smile. You took her new drink out of her hands and took a couple gulps and breathed out, “Don’t even start.”

           “I think Aunt Mary brought some tequila, want a shot?” Your sister answered, wiggling her eyebrows. You nodded and she stood up, taking you into the house to find said tequila.

           You couldn’t really remember how you got into this position, but at that moment you really didn’t care. Not when you were straddling Ben’s lap with his naked chest underneath your hands. When his mouth was pressed to yours, his tongue sweeping across yours. You had long since peeled off your tank top, your bra following its path onto the floor. Your sweats laid somewhere on your carpet, along with his shirt and jeans.

           You had the house to yourself and you were about to make full use of it. Your fingers dug into his blonde hair and tugged softly, listening to him groan against your mouth with his fingers dancing over the curve of your waist and touching your ass. There was a deep ache between your legs and you needed some sort of friction, something to help relieve the pressure between your legs, so you rocked your hips into his, feeling his throbbing dick rub against your aching clit.

           A moan stuttered out of your lips as you rolled your hips again, finding a small amount of relief. “Fuck, that feel good, sweetheart?” Ben groaned against your mouth and you nodded weakly. His grip tightened on your ass cheeks, “I can feel you through my boxers. So fucking wet.”

           “Ben, please, touch me.” You begged, giving a harder roll of your hips. Your movements stilled to a halt when you felt his fingertips run over the line of your panties, around your hips and brushing over the sensitive skin where your thigh met your hip.

           “Look at me, sweetheart,” he demanded softly, “I wanna see your eyes.”

           You did as told and pried your eyes open, your thighs tightening as his finger snuck inside your panties, the tip of his pointer finger ghosting over your folds and feeling the excitement that had leaked. You whined, wanting more, but he smirked at you as he enjoyed teasing you, not even batting an eye when you tugged at his hair harder. You started begging softly with him, pleading with him to do more than just ghostly touches and eventually he complied with coating his finger with your wetness at your entrance before circling your clit.

           “Look at you,” he murmured as your hips started to move with his hand at your clit. “So wet, so needy, just for me.”

           You moaned as he slowly slid his finger inside of you, your eyes locked on his and feeling the ache finally being tended too by his fingers. As he slowly began pumping his finger a little faster, your orgasm seemed to coil even tighter in the pit of your stomach.

           Your eyes shot open right before the coil broke apart in the pit of your stomach, the pleasure that was coursing through your veins seemed to disappear almost immediately. You chest moved heavily as your heart tried keeping up with your body while your eyes worked to adjust to the world around you, you weren’t in your bedroom but instead was sprawled out on the couch in the family room with a light blanket over your body.  You glanced towards the clock and saw it said 7:30 in the morning and suddenly remembered how you had fallen asleep on the couch after helping your parents clean up from having people over. You touched your forehead and sighed, you could still feel Ben’s fingers pulling your panties to the side as his lips brushed over yours. You couldn’t remember the last time you had a sex dream, let alone a sex dream about Ben, but when you heard movement in the kitchen you decided to get up.

           You walked into the kitchen and felt your heart stop suddenly in your chest as Ben stood against the counter, drinking a glass of water in nothing but sweats. Literally. Just. Sweats. His naked chest was on display and he looked like he just rolled out of bed as well, but when he caught sight of you he smirked and your cheeks flushed, remembering that you had just been dreaming about your first night together.

           “Had a good sleep, sweetheart?”

           Fuck me. He knows.

TAGLIST: @luvborhap @i-cant-hangout-im-drumming @quirkydeaky @rogerrhqpsody @jazzman-19 @manuosorioh @bellamy1998 @bubblypenguin123 @groovyhoundbanditduck @ixchel-9275 @radiob-l-a-hblah @orchideax @mrsmazzello

[galacticcannibalism]

Of Assassins and Hearts CH. 10

Chapter 10: Breaking News

beta-d by: @thinkwritexpress-official​ and @arrow-guy​

Summary: Time for Kylo to tell you the truth.

Rating: Explicit 18+ ONLY

Word count:2634

AO3 Link

Kylo Ren is an assassin. Kylo Ren is an assassin. Kylo Ren is an assassin.

The frilly underwear you held in your hand slipped from your numb fingers, your mind repeating the words over and over while Max’s voice in your head spoke soothingly to you. Your stomach lurched and you had to fight down the nausea that rose at the words.

That’s not the only secret he is hiding from you. His name Little Bird, what is his name? Max asked, his voice soft, almost concerned. 

“Kylo Ren,” you whispered aloud.

Your voice cracked with the words, leaving you feeling like your voice tried to stop you from uttering the lie.

Ben Solo, His name is Ben Solo. Now that I’ve revealed him, maybe it's time you come back to me, Little Bird,  he said, sweet and harmless.

Your ears rang as you wrenched yourself away from Max’s poisonous thoughts, but his words still rattled around in your skull like dice in a cup.

Assassin. Ben Solo. Assassin. Ben Solo. Kylo Ren. Kylo Ren. KYLO REN.

You sank to the floor, hands clamped over your ears, trying to stop the rattling, trying to see past the words Max had sprung on you. You squeezed your eyes shut and cleared your mind, blocking out Max and Kylo. You could feel them both in your head, a chafing presence. 

A hand on your arm pulled you out of the storm of thoughts and dual voices screaming in your head. You staggered to your feet, eyes still closed and voices still drowned out. The hand on your arm moved and pried your hands away from your ears, and you finally opened your eyes to find Kylo standing in front of you, his expression concerned. You jerked out of his hold and turned away from him. The tidal wave his hands held back threatened to overtake you again.

“Don’t touch me,” you spat at him.

“What’s wrong? What did I do?”

“According to Max, you’re a fucking liar!” you shouted.

“Listening to the nutcase that zip tied you to a chair is always a good idea,” Kylo said sarcastically.

“Who is Ben Solo?”

The words you whispered took immediate effect. Kylo’s face paled as he stepped back from you, stunned. You waited a few seconds before turning on your heel and leaving the store. The fact that he had no answer was proof enough that he had lied to you. You power-walked toward the road. Between the feelings of anger and sadness, your heart cracked as your mind went over every lie. Tears streamed down your face as you walked, partially blinding you to the Jeep pulling to a stop behind you.

“Y/N, get in the car,” Kylo shouted behind you.

You didn’t respond and chose to keep walking. 

I just need to get away from him.

“Please, Y/N,” Kylo pleaded from behind you.

“Leave her alone, dude, you’re dumped!” a man in a passing car yelled.

Y/N I’m sorry, Kylo said in your head.

Who is Ben Solo?

You stopped walking and turned to face Kylo. His head was tilted, making his hair fan across his face, hiding his expression from you. 

I’m Ben Solo.

“Why should I trust you?” you called to him.

You started back in his direction, determined to wring the truth from him. I can’t have another incident like I had with Max.

“I’ll tell you everything.”

“Everything? Like why you don’t go by your name kind of everything?” you asked.

“I will, I promise. Just get in the fucking car,” he growled at you.

You finished your walk to the Jeep and climbed in, waiting for him to start the conversation. He started the car up and took off down the road back onto the highway without a word. You watched the scenery flash by, mind drifting. 

What if he’s some kind of serial killer? What if I’m his target? Do I even know this man? If he doesn’t give me a satisfactory answer I’m gone at the next stop. 

Kylo glanced over at you before turning his eyes back to the road. You were sure he’d heard your thoughts, but he didn’t comment on them. You waited for a few more seconds for him to offer up the information.

“Before I explain, you have to understand some things are secret because they aren’t my secrets to tell,” Kylo started, his tone grave. “And I’m only going to go over this with you once because there are parts that not even I know.” 

You nodded, prepared to commit every word to memory.

“When I was a kid, I trained at my uncle’s dojo. My uncle, Luke, was a martial artist and a gunsmith. He wanted me to learn control and balance in my life. I lived with him and trained with him for years, learning different martial arts and my way around guns,” Kylo explained in a low voice.

“You asked me if I could shoot,” you pointed out.

“Yeah I did. I learned the beautiful calligraphy you write with too,” he said, casting a glance at your bright pink cast.

You pulled the sleeve of your shirt down to cover as much of it as you could suddenly embarrassed. 

“When I was 16, my uncle and I had a major falling out. I left and joined a gang, The Knights of Ren. I stayed with them for years, not realising how toxic they were. My dad pulled me out, but it cost him his life,” Kylo continued. “I was on the road with him one night. He was trying to talk me into going home to see my mother when his truck got ambushed. They killed him, and they killed me. They killed Ben Solo.”

You shuddered at what you heard. You could almost see it in your head, Kylo laying on a deserted road way with his body broken. You wanted to reach out to the broken man in your vision and cradle him, to reassure him everything would turn out alright. You looked at Kylo and the unshed tears in his eyes made your heart ache.

“What about Poe? Where was he during all of this,” you asked.

“You’ll have to ask him. It's not my secret to tell.”

“If you died...  how are you here?”

Kylo didn’t answer. Instead he concentrated on the road, humming again. You let him hum through Devil in Disguise before you started to get impatient.

“I woke up handcuffed to a hospital bed with feds standing over me, telling me that I was a suspect in a list of crimes that would land me six feet under if I was convicted. That list included murdering my father. They threatened me with jail time before leaving. What I didn’t know is that the Knights of Ren took exception to me leaving and decided to move illegal goods that The First Order wanted via my father’s truck,” Kylo explained. “The Knights of Ren are lenient, but the First Order is a leave-no-witnesses kind of group. ”

“You were supposed to die with him.”

The realization shook you to the core. Nothing could have prepared you for the revelation that the man who was supposed to be tied to you almost didn’t survive to form the bond.

I might have ended up Max’s Soulmate, you thought sourly.

“Nobody on the planet deserved to be tied to him,” Kylo said gruffly. “Sorry about earlier.”

You nodded absently and picked at the cast, resisting the urge to scratch at the growing itch.

“The doctors patched me up and released me. They told me I’d died on the table 3 times and they were surprised that I’d even survived. Before I made it 10 feet out of the hospital doors, the feds hauled me in, they were waiting for me to be released. First they threatened me, then they bargained. I didn’t have anything to give them, so I made them a deal; I’d take out the Knights of Ren and the First Order. But I’d need immunity for everything. Permanently. That included any jobs I took for them.”

You stopped picking at the cast and turned in your seat to look at him fully. Kylo’s expression had hardened while he told his story.

“I never killed innocents, only people that deserved it. Traffickers,untouchable, and murderers. People like that. I don’t just go on unchecked rampages. I have standards,” Kylo said, his tone harsh.

A few minutes passed in silence, broken only by Kylo taking deep, angry breaths. You wanted to say something but you didn’t want to interrupt if he had more to say.

“I killed them all. The Knights of Ren. That was the day Ben Solo completely died. He has a lovely gravestone, and he was buried with his father. I became Kylo Ren that day,” he narrated, his words starting to dip into a monotone.

“So, you really are an assassin?” you asked nervously. “What about your Mother and Poe, do they know?”

“They know and disapprove, but what can they do? The First Order needs to be stopped, or they’ll keep spreading.”

“Why me? Why did Armitage come after me?”

“I can only assume he came after you to weaken me. Nobody knows what effects the violent death of a soulmate can have,” Kylo answered.

You swallowed thickly. He wanted me to give up Kylo’s secrets and then he was going to kill me? 

“I’ll protect you, I swear. And I’ll stop them, and if Max has joined them, I’ll deal with him too,” Kylo promised fiercely.

“What were you going to tell me if I asked what your job was?

“Probably a police officer or something along those lines. Something safe.”

You didn’t ask any more questions as darkness fell and Kylo left you to mull over his words. Your heart sank the more you thought about everything he said and everything he hadn’t. He was an assassin, like Max said, but he hadn’t done anything overly threatening to you. 

“Wait, you said you pinned Armitage to my floor. Did you- I mean how? Why?”

“I pulled out a big ass knife and stabbed him through the chest with it, and pinned him to the floor. Not really rocket science,” Kylo answered with a shrug.

“How big was the knife?”

“The blade was about 14 inches.”

The amount of strength he’d need to do something like that is incredible. That is both extremely sexy and absolutely terrifying.

The words caught up with the rest of your brain.

“Wait, you left a man pinned to the floor of my apartment! Oh god I’m going to jail,” you groaned.

“He isn’t dead. Phasma can take his wounds from him. And they probably burnt down your apartment anyway.”

“And that is better how?” you asked, glaring at him.

Kylo shrugged and pulled off at the nearest exit and into a hotel parking lot.

“Why are we stopping? I thought we had a ways to go.”

“We do, I’m just tired. Get us a room and I’ll get us food,” Kylo directed.

You looked down at your clothes and back at him. 

You gestured at your sweat pants and said “Pockets.”

He dug into his own pocket and pulled out a cellphone and a credit card, pushing them to you. 

“My number is programmed in, text me which room it is.”

You climbed out of the Jeep and watched him speed out of the motel parking lot. You tapped the credit card thoughtfully against your chin while you pondered Kylo’s stunning revelations. You’d never heard anything so convoluted and twisted. If Max hadn’t already confirmed it in an attempt to get you away from Kylo, well, you’d never believe it. With that disheartening thought, you strode into the office of the motel.

After 10 minutes of haggling and a non refundable incidentals deposit that you were sure went into his pocket, you managed to get a double room. You glared at the man behind the desk and stalked out of the office, taking out the phone Kylo had handed you. You opened the contacts list, and true to his word, he was the only contact. You punched in a text message with the room number and pocketed the phone.

Where are you, Little Bird? I can come and take you away from him, Max’s voice spoke gleefully in your head.

Stay the fuck away from me, Max. I swear you’ll regret it if you don't, you snarled, sending every ounce of anger you felt through the connection.

You felt him flinch away from your thoughts, making you smile in satisfaction. Maybe the bastard finally felt an ounce of the pain he had caused.

Don’t worry, Little Bird. I’ll be there to save you, Max promised, his voice sounding far away and muffled.

While you walked, you pulled all the anger and pain you felt around you, using it to shield your mind. Max being in your head was a violation that couldn’t stand, no matter what the reason. 

No more, you thought grimly.

You made it to the room you’d texted to Kylo and unlocked the door; it surprised you that the hotel hadn’t switched to electronic keypads, but that wasn’t your business. You double-checked the door was locked then dropped the key with a clang on the little table by the door. Walking to the bed furthest from the door, it looked clean enough, so you kicked off your shoes and climbed in.

I’ll get up when Kylo needs to be let in.

You were pulled from sleep by a rhythmic sound, unidentifiable and soft. You looked to the empty bed across from you, noting with tired interest that Kylo wasn’t wasn’t there. You held your breath for a few seconds and angled your head to get a better feel for where the sound was coming from. When you determined it was coming from the bathroom, you climbed out of the bed and padded silently to the door. The sound of flesh-on-flesh followed by a sigh was unmistakable.

I should go back to bed, you told yourself. But what if it's some random person? That clerk was pretty sketchy.

You peered through the crack of the open door, resolved to scream bloody murder, but the sight in front of you froze the sound in your throat. Kylo was seated on the edge of the crummy bathtub, hunched over himself with his shirt clamped between his teeth, one arm braced on the side of the tub, the other moving rhythmically over his length. Your eyes strayed from his face, unable to keep yourself from watching his cock disappear in his fist. A bead of precum formed at the head and he spread it across the length of his cock with the palm of his hand, easing the friction as he thrust into his fist. The new sensation pulled another muffled whimper out of him that had your eyes shooting back to his face. He let his head fall back as he let out a low groan, and you sighed as the sound set you aflame. His motions halted at the sound, and he quietly called out your name, guilt heavy in the word. 

You backed away, slowly and soundlessly, retreating to your bed and climbing in, laying motionless. A few seconds passed before Kylo walked out of the bathroom and stopped at the end of the bed. He called your name again softly, as if he wanted your attention but was afraid to wake you. A few more seconds passed before he went back to the bathroom, shutting the door with a soft click. You rolled over and the scene played before your eyes over and over until you drifted back to sleep.

[k3ithsk0gane]

With Klaus getting sober he needs to find other (healthier) ways to block out the constant screams from the spirits. He has his headphones, but sometimes he doesn’t even want to listen to music, he just wants silence. Ben has noticed that Klaus’s music isn’t helping as much as it used to and he wants to help find an alternative option but since he’s a ghost he can’t just waltz to the store and pick something up. He can’t even tell one of his other siblings, so he feels even more useless standing by and watching his brother suffer, again.

On a particularly rough night Ben finds Klaus curled up in the corner of his bed trembling, eyes squeezed shut. In some sick and twisted way Klaus’s nightmares are the only way to alert his siblings that he needs help. Since five doesn’t take too lightly to being woken up from his slumber he’s the first one to come popping into Klaus’s bedroom to remprimand his brother for being so noisy. Five is suprised to say the least at what he finds.

Diego, the next person to be woken up by the sudden commotion in Klaus’s room, walks into the room to find Five staring confused at his brothers huddled form. While seeing his brother like this is a surprise to Diego he’s still fast to walk up to Klaus and try to wake him from his obvious nightmare. This sudden contact surprises Klaus causing him to yell out and curl further into himself.

Ben is watching all of this helplessly off to the side begging whatever higher power there is to let him manifest for a few seconds to comfort his brother. He didn’t have to wait long if the sudden gasp of his name from Five was anything to go bye. Ben didn’t waste a moment telling Diego and Five about Klaus’s constant nightmares from the wailing spirits and the lack of aid music has been to Klaus as of recently. Five was never much of the comforting type, none of them were really, but Ben still didn’t think it was right of him to just disappear after telling him about Klaus’s nightmares.

Ben’s luck seemed to run out because the moment after Five disappeared he heard Diego call out for him and when he looked down at his hands the blue glow that came with being corporeal was gone. Diego tried his best to calm Klaus but it seemed like anything he did made things worse. Every time he touched him or called out to him Klaus would flinch back harder and clamp his hands down tighter over his ears. Diego was at a loss and he felt angry not being able to help his brother. He wondered just how long they had all been oblivious to what Klaus was going through, but that just made him angrier and he knew he’d be no help if he was all, what Klaus liked to call, broody.

After a few minutes of watching his brother continue to whimper and plead to whatever spirits were haunting him to, “go away”, Five returned. He wasn’t empty handed and Diego wondered where he went to get those things. Five, as silently as possible, walked over to Klaus and ever so gently pried his hands off of his head quickly replacing them with pink fuzzy earmuff headphones. There was an instant reaction from Klaus and all the tension in his body melted away. When Diego turned a questioning gaze towards him he just shrugged explaining that if music wasn’t loud enough to drown out the whails, maybe Klaus should just eliminate noise all together. Even though Five couldn’t see him Ben still beamed at his brother for helping Klaus when he could have easily just shrugged it off as withdrawals.

When Klaus woke the next morning, more rested then he had been in a long time he was also slightly panicked since he couldn’t hear anything. Ben quickly noticed this and put himself in Klaus’s line of sight pointing to his ears hoping Klaus would understand. Thankfully he did and when he raised his hands to touch his ears he let out a laugh pulling the headphones off his head and finding pink fuzzy earmuffs in his hands. Realization dawned on Klaus that they were noise cancelling and when he turned a questioning look towards Ben all Ben did was shrug. Ben knew his seemingly detached brother Five wouldn’t want his soft heart to be known to everyone so he kept his secret safe, for now. Everyday after that Klaus slept with the headphones on and if Ben noticed Five pop his head in to check in on Klaus almost every night, he also didn’t say anything about that.

[eleanor-writes-stuff]

a language that i never knew existed before - Day 22

For the anon who requested jealous Kylo/Ben in any setting: here’s a canon-verse post-defection Ben getting jealous over... a lot of things, really.

Jealousy has always been foreign to me, especially romantic jealousy, but I tried my best. Thanks for the prompt, and I hope you like it!

Only three ficlets left, you guys! I’m freestyling it from here on out, and I hope you’ll like what I’ve got in store for everyone.

25 Days of Reylo Also available on AO3

A week after Ben defects to the Resistance, Rey leaves him to dine in private with his mother and joins her friends for dinner for the first time since the unexpected turn of events.

It’s a quiet, awkward affair thanks to the widespread rumor that Ben gave up the galaxy for her, made all the more awkward when Rey pushes aside her half-empty plate and clears her throat.

“I know that this is… odd, for everyone,” she acknowledges, eyes flitting from Rose to Finn to Poe to Kaydel. “But the general and I would be really grateful if…”

Rey falters, drops her eyes to the table. “If…”

Under the table, Rose reaches out to give her hand a reassuring squeeze, and when Rey looks up she finds an encouraging smile on her friend’s face. “If?” Rose prompts.

“If you guys would let Ben sit with us tomorrow,” Rey says in a single breath, nearly tripping over her own words. In the silence that follows, the nervous flutter of her heart seems almost deafening to her ringing ears. She resists the urge to close her eyes, to walk away, to hide forever–

“I mean,” Poe begins contemplatively, twisting the fork in his hand. “The man did try to kill us, but he’s also singlehandedly turned the tide of this war.”

“I guess everyone’s capable of change,” Finn adds reluctantly, after a rather obvious jab to his side courtesy of Rose.

All eyes turn to Kaydel, who’s been calmly picking at her meal throughout. “If it makes the general happy,” she shrugs without looking up from her food.

And so the next morning they drag an empty chair over to their table, leave it next to Rey, and wait for the former Supreme Leader to join them for breakfast.

Rey catches sight of him hovering by the entrance while everyone else is busy discussing the day ahead, raises a hand to beckon him over–

His eyes land somewhere to her right, fixed on a seemingly random point between her and Finn, and the next thing she knows he’s scowling and turning and leaving.

The Bond is blocked that day, like a pipe clogged up by something she can’t quite identify.

A month after Ben’s arrival, the Resistance plans a celebration.

It’s nothing grand, barely a feast according to those who remember what that was like, but it’s the first celebration of any kind that Rey will ever experience, and somehow word of that reaches Leia.

Poe finds her two hours before the party and marches her over to the general’s quarters, and the next thing Rey knows she’s sitting on the ground while Leia runs soothing hands through her hair and slowly fashions it into an intricate braid befitting the occasion.

“Are braids… important to you?” Rey asks haltingly, staying as still as she can. “You don’t have to answer, it’s just that, well, you’re always wearing them, and I’ve noticed that they change, sometimes, when things happen, and Kaydel said something about your home planet once–”

“Alderaan,” Leia says quietly, hands stilling for a moment. Rey winces to herself, realizing belatedly that maybe she shouldn’t have brought up the lost planet and all the grief that comes with it on such a happy day. But when Leia speaks again, her voice is wistful instead of sad, with an airy, faraway quality to it rather than the weight of sorrow.

Leia keeps weaving. “Braids are a language all on their own, to my people. We lost a lot when our planet was taken from us, but this… this we kept. If I had a daughter, I would’ve taught her all about it the way my mother taught me, the way her mother taught her.” She laughs then, a rare, beautiful occurrence that’s increased in frequency ever since her son’s return. “I had Ben instead, but he made a perfect student nonetheless, always climbing up on tables and chairs to reach my hair and practice.”

Rey nearly, nearly turns around and ruins all of Leia’s hard work. “Ben can braid?” she asks, smiling at the thought.

“Oh yes, I taught him nearly everything–”

The door connecting Leia’s quarters to Ben’s opens, and the man himself appears with a frown on his face and a datapad in his hands.

“Mom, I’d really rather not–”

He looks up from his datapad, pauses as he takes in the sight of Leia on the edge of her bed and Rey on the floor next to her, a half-formed Alderaanian braid between them, and all Rey can think about is Ben in place of Leia, running those large hands of his through her hair, being so, so gentle with her as he honors his mother’s tradition–

She’s forcibly yanked out of her daydream when a spike of something ripples through the Bond, an indecipherable mess of a dozen emotions tangled together.

“I’ll come back later,” Ben says, and shuts the door behind him.

Leia sighs heavily and goes back to work without a single word.

Six weeks after he first arrived, the leadership grants Ben permission to leave the compound and train with Rey.

She guides him through the forest with their hands intertwined and leads him to her favorite spot, a little secret she’s kept to herself all this while and can’t wait to share with him.

Ben’s smile is as wide as her own when they finally reach her meditation spot, her excitement leaking through the Bond and seeping into his receptive mind.

“I think this is my favorite place in the galaxy,” Rey admits quietly as she tugs at his hand and urges him to sit down on the large, smooth stone she added the day he arrived, a darker twin to the one she’s been sitting on ever since she stumbled upon this place.

They settle into a peaceful silence, surrendering themselves to their surroundings, to the nexus of the forest. From this spot on the riverbank they can hear the distant crashes of the waterfall and feel the sun as it rises above them, drown out their thoughts and concerns with the sounds of the forest surrounding them, birds calling to each other and tiny critters scampering past and beyond that, below that, life itself, an ancient pulse beneath their feet that sustains the entire continent.

Rey gives herself over to it, syncs her own heartbeat to the heartbeat of the planet, of the Force–

“I can’t,” Ben growls, his red-hot irritation snapping her back to reality. When she opens her eyes he’s already up on his feet and pacing along the river, and Rey watches as he runs a hand through his hair and yanks at the ends.

“I was never any good at this anyway, the padawan who couldn’t master even the most basic kriffing task like a failure–”

She jumps to her feet then, crosses the distance between them and places a hand on Ben’s shoulder. “Hey. No. You are not a failure–”

Ben doesn’t look at her, shrugs her hand off. “Easy for you to say,” he scoffs, and there it is again, that disturbance in the Bond that makes everything seem awful and wrong and–

And suddenly, Rey understands what it is.

“Jealous,” she realizes out loud, and from the corner of her eye she catches Ben as he abruptly stills. “You’re jealous,” Rey confronts him, nearly laughing in incredulity as he hangs his head, a wordless confession. She pushes a little more, untangles the complex knot to understand– “Of me. Of me? Over me, too, but of me, Ben? Why would you possibly–”

The first time he tried to join them for breakfast, Finn had a hand around her chair – around both hers and Rose’s because he’d been laughing so hard just moments before that he needed the support but Ben didn’t know that, Ben didn’t see anything other than Finn’s hand on her chair and Finn’s hand being the first to ever take hers and Finn’s hand reaching for her, always reaching for her and just like that, he made up his mind to take all of his meals far, far away from them.

When he walked in on Leia braiding her hair it felt like a slap in the face because that should’ve been him, that could’ve been him, he’d been itching to touch her for weeks, months even, but instead he’d kept his distance and now his mother was the one partaking in this intimate ritual with Rey, his mother who’d been the one to teach him, his mother who used to share this with him and only him–

“Oh,” Rey whispers to herself while Ben continues to stare at the ground. “Oh.”

Silence hangs between them, filled with all the things Rey can’t bring herself to say.

Finally, Ben does it for her. “And now… now here you are, effortlessly connecting with the Force while I keep reaching and reaching and reaching for this thing that I’ve had since the second I was born–”

Rey takes his clenched fists in her hands and slowly pries his fingers loose so that she can tangle them with her own. “Ben, that’s not… that’s not how it works.”

“Of course it’s not,” he laughs bitterly, but his hands stay in hers and that’s a start, at least. “I’m supposed to be a Skywalker, Rey. I’m a kriffing Skywalker, and I can’t even meditate right. What is wrong with me?”

Everything, he blurts out into the Bond.

Nothing, Rey counters firmly, fiercely as she guides him back to the rock and kneels down next to him.

“Did I ever tell you about the first lesson Luke taught me?” she asks, treading lightly on thin ice.

Ben tenses at the mention of his uncle, but otherwise shows no signs of reacting to it. So Rey leans in, presses her forehead to his to feed him a memory from a lifetime ago – Luke’s leading question, the blade of grass, her revelation.

She stops there; he’s seen the rest before, witnessed her question herself for succumbing so easily to the call of the Darkness.

“Now do you understand?” Rey whispers, eyes still closed as she wills him to see what Luke showed her all those months ago. “You don’t have the Force, Ben. None of us do. It’s not something for you to control; it’s something for you to connect with.”

Rey falls back on her haunches, waits for Ben to open his eyes and see, for him to understand that there’s nothing to be jealous of. The thing with Finn and his mother and her, they can work through that later. But this, the Force, the one thing he’s always been able to rely on… this she has to show him.

He stays quiet for a while, and Rey gives him the time and space he needs, backs away from the Bond to let him work through his thoughts in private, to let him rip everything he’s ever known into shreds and piece it together again.

That heavy, ugly knot of jealousy is the last thing to go, but when it does Rey feels it in her soul, snaps her eyes up to find Ben already looking at her, waiting for her.

“Will…” He slides down from the rock, kneels on the ground with her and holds out his hand. “Will you teach me?”

She smiles, laces their fingers together and leans in for a quick kiss. “We’ll learn together,” Rey promises him, and so they do.

Damn, this got out of hand. So much so that at some point I actually walked away from this and tried to write a shorter version based only on the braiding scene, but then that one got too long as well so... It’s official: I’m hopeless, you guys. Both at keeping ficlets ficlet-length and writing jealousy. Sorry, anon! I really did try, I promise.

As always, thanks for reading and I hope you enjoyed it. Please don’t hesitate to like/reblog/comment!