#oh you know just your average chill doctor who moment

[mndvx]

DOCTOR WHO – The Snowmen (2012 Christmas Special) directed by Saul Metzstein | written by Steven Moffat

#doctor who #dw #matt smith #jenna coleman #neve mcintosh #catrin stewart #dan starkey #11th doctor #clara oswald #madame vastra #jenny flint #commander strax #dwedit #doctorwhoedit #tvedit #scifiedit #oh you know just your average chill doctor who moment

[homoose]

Enter With Abandon: Part I

Summary: Reader accidentally orders three meal kit boxes. Spencer takes one off her hands.

Pairing: Spencer Reid x fem!reader

Category: fluff

Warnings/Includes: none

Word count: 1.4k

a/n: I just love a good meet cute, you guys. This is part one of four. ☺️

———

She had come to terms with the fact that she was a terrible cook. She’d grown up just above the poverty line, with parents who worked long hours on odd schedules. That meant that she and her brother had gotten by on a lot of PB&J, hot dogs, and TV dinners. They certainly didn’t learn how to prepare and cook meals. So when she became an adult, with a real job and an actual salary and without a college dining hall at her disposal, she began ordering a lot of takeout.

It didn’t take long for her bank account to remind her that delivery four days a week was above her pay grade. As a compromise, she’d ordered a HelloFresh box. It was still kind of expensive, but it was a far cry from what she’d been spending on Postmates. She tried a Blue Apron box, and those were a little too advanced for her skill set, but she kept the account open just to look. HomeChef quickly became her favorite service— the meals were ridiculously easy and tasted pretty good once they were doctored up with various spices.

She had just started to level up into mediocre cooking territory when she came home to not one, not two, but three meal kit boxes in the mailroom. She frantically pulled up the apps to see that she had somehow missed the day to skip the box for the HelloFresh and BlueApron boxes that week. She now had nine meals to cook in the next seven days (five when accounting for produce freshness).

She hauled the boxes upstairs to her apartment and pulled up the app to check what meals she had even ordered. The BlueApron recipes were thankfully not too difficult, and she opened the box and unpacked the ingredients into the fridge. She did the same with the HelloFresh box, actually excited to try out a mahi mahi recipe that she probably wouldn’t have been adventurous enough to pick on her own. The recipes in the HomeChef box were fine other than a cavatappi recipe she wasn’t too thrilled about, but she ultimately decided that there was no way she’d be able to cook everything from all three boxes without something going bad.

Which is how she ended up in front of apartment 23, huffing out a breath. Apartments 20 and 21 had been… less than friendly. She’d never actually seen anyone enter or exit this apartment, so she wasn’t even sure anyone lived there. Still, she knocked three times and waited, box in hand.

There was some shuffling, footsteps, and the click of the deadbolt. She opened her mouth to start her spiel, but the sound died in her throat at the man in front of her.

Her neighbor stood in his doorway, all fluffy curls and glasses and stubble, and she forgot why she was even standing there. He was wearing a navy cardigan that looked incredibly soft, a white collared shirt underneath, the top two buttons undone, and heather grey slacks on his long legs. On his feet were mismatched socks— one bright green and the other rainbow striped.

“Can I help you?” he asked, pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose and drawing her out of her ogling.

“Oh— I, um.” She held up the box. “I’m your neighbor, um, unit 22. I—I do these um, meal kit boxes and I— well, I’m signed up for three different plans, and you have to remember to go into each individual app and skip the week if you don’t want a box delivered, and I thought I did that, but apparently I didn’t, and so now I have three meal kits and that’s way more than I need because I’m only one person so—”

She paused to suck in a breath. The very corners of his lips twitched into the start of a smile and she about spontaneously combusted. He waited for her to continue, one very cute eyebrow raised at her rambling. She gave herself a mental thrashing and a get it together before continuing.

“So. I’m trying to give away this box, because I don’t want the food to go to waste. However, as it turns out, people are not keen on taking food from a stranger, even when it’s in a sealed package from a reputable meal kit service.” She shrugged. “That said, um, do you want this box? Of food. For you.”

He huffed out a laugh. “I— I don’t know if I’m the best candidate for the box.” He bared his teeth sheepishly. “I’m not a very good cook.”

“Oh! Well, this is the easiest kit, actually. Like, they even pre-cook the pasta so all you have to do is add it in, which I think is kind of ridiculous because who can’t boil noodles? But you know, it’s good if you like, work long hours or whatever.”

He considered her for a moment. “Okay, I’ll take it.”

She was so shocked that he hadn’t closed the door in her bumbling face that her mouth dropped open. “You will?”

“Yeah, you convinced me. Do you wanna…?” He held his hands out and she nodded.

“Yeah, of course, sorry.” She handed him the box. “Thank you so much for taking it off my hands,” she said, dusting imaginary particles off of them. “My conscience feels a lot lighter knowing I won’t be contributing to our nation's issue with food waste. Like, did you know that the average person throws away 219 pounds of food per year, and that most of that food gets sent to landfills where it decays and produces nitrogen pollution, which causes algae blooms and dead zones?”

He pressed his lips together. “I actually did know that.”

“Oh. Well. Good.” She crossed her arms. “It—It’s good that you know that, because, you know, maybe you’ll be more mindful of your own food waste.” Her eyes went wide and she held out an apologetic hand. “Not that I’m saying that you’re not mindful or anything. I just—it’s—it can be good to know things.” It can be good to know things?!

“It certainly can be good to know things.” His lips were turned up in the sweetest smile, golden eyes crinkling at the corners, and she didn’t even care if he thought she was a complete idiot, because she just wanted him to smile at her like that for the rest of eternity.

“Absolutely. Knowing things is… awesome.” She wished the floor beneath her would open up and drop her straight into hell. “Okay. Well, bye.” She turned and took two steps, then did a 180 just as he was closing the door. “Oh, just— you might wanna add more spices than they write in the recipes. I think they write them with the intention of being kind of bland to appeal to a wider audience, but you know, they can end up being kind of… well, bland.”

He smiled again and she couldn’t stop staring. “Thanks for the heads up.”

“You’re welcome. Okay. Well, really bye this time.” She turned and walked as calmly as she could back to her apartment. When she heard the click of his deadbolt she dropped her head into her hand in complete and utter mortification at the sheer lack of chill she’d just exhibited. “What in the actual fuck is wrong with you?”

…

It quickly became obvious why she hadn’t known if anyone lived there— because he was hardly ever home. She listened a little more purposefully to the footsteps on the stairs and the noises through the wall. She wondered if maybe he worked odd hours or had a significant other whose apartment he stayed at.

She was busy enough with work and cooking the other six meals that she had almost forgotten about the humiliating encounter with the man from apartment 23. By the following Friday, she was so tired from the week that she didn’t even glance at his mailbox like she’d been doing all week, S. Reid scrawled across the label. She dragged herself up the stairs and across the landing, fishing her keys out of her bag.

She stopped in front of her door to see a small glass container sitting on her doormat. She looked up and down the hallway before bending to pick it up. There was a paper note taped to the top, written in the same chicken scratch from the mailbox. She saved the note, opting to pop open the lid on the pyrex to find four perfectly baked scones with some sort of citrus glaze. She balanced the dish in one hand and shuffled the note open with the other.

I’m not a great cook, but I’m a pretty good baker. Thanks for the box.

Spencer, Unit 23

P.S. You were right about the spices.

———

Permanent tags: @andiebeaword @averyhotchner @saspencereid @pinkdiamond1016 @shadyladyperfection

#spencer x reader #spencer x y/n #spencer x you #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x you #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid imagine #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds self insert #homoose writes

[inappropriate-aunt]

I started wearing my fitbit to bed so it can get a better reading of my resting heartrate and now it's like "Oh, you're not actually horribly out of shape, you're average." And I'm like thank you, fitbit, I did already know that but it's nice to have confirmation.

I'm not sure if I recommend fitness trackers or not for people like me in eating disorder recovery. There have been periods in my life when I had already made a decision to be active, so it was fun and a little motivating to track stuff. But there have been an equal number of times when depression or life got me down and wearing the fitness tracker, which kept reminding me that I was not active when I knew that, and wished I had the energy to be active- well it just made me feel worse. Most of them also come with calorie trackers which I hide. Counting calories will make me start up disordered eating again. So does intermittent fasting. In like 2017 when I was running five times a week and intermittent fasting, I was really low on energy and not making any progress in my speed, and luckily during a check up my doctor told me, very kindly, not to lose any more weight. It shocked me a bit! I had been avoiding going to the doctor for fear that they would tell me I was too fat and had to lose weight. But in that moment I realized I had relapsed! It was a good wake up call.

So visit your doctor once a year even if you think nothing is different, or you're scared that they're going to tell you something you don't want to hear. And think carefully about a fitness tracker and if it's right for you. Will it be fun to use? Will you enjoy seeing the data you get or will you fixate on it? Be honest with yourself about your ED triggers. Fasting and calorie counting are mine- but they could just as easily be number of steps, or minutes in fat burn zone, stepping on a scale to weigh yourself every day, pinching your skin to "measure the fat." Yeah...get real with yourself. We have to want to recover and want STAY free of the clutch of eating disorders.

Be careful that you aren't swapping one eating disorder for another, and remember that you may still have an eating disorder even if your symptoms don't fit perfectly into the definition. Oh, you're only eating sub 1000 calories a day but you're not technically underweight and you don't wear baggy clothes to hide it so you couldn't possibly be anorexic? Wow, what a clever loophole you found guess you really aren't- BABE WHAT. ARE YOU KIDDING ME. You got it bad.

Hang in there. If it's your first time in this rodeo, welcome! Now go get help. Get a therapist, a support group, an online chat- just someone to talk to who has a different perspective. Get help if you feel yourself slipping back into ED Habits. Talk to people if you hate yourself and the way you look. Get a buddy or a support group to keep you accountable. You need people around you who will go "Hey, you aren't eating a lot, is everything okay?" Or "look, you're exercising quite a lot recently. Maybe you need to chill so you don't hurt yourself." And don't buy/wear a fitness tracker if it makes you hate yourself, encourages ed behavior, or really is anything other than a fun, optional tool you can use to help you enjoy physical activity. (Oh and if you do get one don't get a fitbit. Too much of the data is locked behind a subscription, customer service is bad, and both the wristband and the app have consistent issues with glitches.)

#anorexia #tw anorexia #anorexic #eating disorder #ed recovery #fitbit #fitness tracker #eating disoder things #tw eating disorder #bulimia #orthorexia #calorie counting

[softomi]

The Alternatives

prompts: When we feel like we aren’t in control, we’ll reorganize ourselves; we’ll think of other solutions; but in the end, we’ll always find ourselves where we began. 

My dream may not have begun with you, but it sure as hell will end with you.

pairing: oikawa x reader

Your keys twirled on your finger, they jingled against each other as you entered the gym. The ball smacks against the floor during the two men’s argument. The quarrel created tension in the bare gym, the two boys at each other’s necks.

“Will it be worth it?!” Iwaizumi was gripping Oikawa by the material of his shirt, “When you finally injure yourself enough to be forced to quit, will you finally be satisfied?”

“Maybe!” Oikawa pushed his arm away, hands reaching down to grab one of the fallen volleyballs. The ball in his hand slips from his grip when he spots you through the net. He attempts to cool the high rising of his chest, “Y/n.” He whispers your name.

“Tooru.” You wave at him.

Oikawa’s head tilts at the way Iwaizumi knocks him with his fist, “Stupid.” Iwaizumi states as he leaves to gather his things.

You sit on the bench, legs swaying, you bid farewell to Iwaizumi as he leaves. The male simply pats your head, a habit he developed from when you were the small freshman in high school. You hear him faintly whisper under his breath, asking you to tame the beast on the court.

Oikawa’s eyes linger on the way Iwaizumi touches your hair, waiting for him to leave the gym before he walks to you. You flash him a smile, one he hopes you only give him, as he approaches you. His shoulders slump when he takes a seat next to you, eyes glued to the volleyball he’s placed between his feet.

“Are you here to yell at me too?” His voice is soft compared to the roar he gave his friend.

You sway slightly, just enough for your shoulders to bounce off of his, your lips hum, “No.” You see the way his lips pout but yet his eyes are shaking, “I can already tell you’re doing it to yourself.”

That’s what he liked about you, no; it was what he loved about you. You were like water, fizzling the flame coursing his veins, providing life to his wounds.

“Do you think I should quit volleyball?”

Your swaying ceased, you noticed the way his eyes were no longer shaking, they were still as they stared deep into the ball. He was serious, just like he always was when this thought passed his mind; for someone who breathed for the sport, some days he gets the wind knocked out of him.

“Okay.” The way his eyes shot to look at you, it almost made you jolt, “Well.” You say, “What’s plan B then?” You bring your gaze to stare at the net, “Let’s strategize. Plan A is professional volleyball, what’s plan B?”

He takes the ball into his hands, “Plan B.” The words roll off his tongue, “I could teach volleyball.”

Your lips pull into a grin. Of course. You think, “Okay. Plan C?”

“Definitely a model.”

Your head nods, “Definitely. Plan D?”

Oikawa purses his lips, “Oh! I could be a referee for volleyball games.”

“I feel like you would be very biased.” You counter.

He lets out a flabbergasted gasp, “I would never.”

“Says the person who refereed a checkers game between me and Iwaizumi. You definitely saw me cheat.”

The ball is abandoned on the ground as Oikawa turns to you, “I saw nothing. You won fair and square.”

You cackle at his comment, “Okay. Then, plan E?”

You waited as he stared at you. He gave you one of those looks, one that you just couldn’t entirely pinpoint where his thoughts were leading him. Most times you could read him like the back of your hand, but then he gives you this look; as if those other times he was letting you read him.

“I marry you.” You froze yet he was so nonchalant, “Then we get a big house and have lots and lots of kids. Enough to make a volleyball team.” A smile graces your lips, you let him ramble. He names your children, plans where they’d go to school, plans the ages of each child, “And then when our last child gets married and moves out of the house, we’ll move to the country side where I’ll teach the neighborhood kids how to play the greatest sport ever, volleyball.”

The excitement in his voice dwindles, his eyes staring at the net. You perk your head to him, viewing his still expression; the longingness in his eyes, “Plan A sounds like the most pleasing doesn’t it.”

Oikawa meets your gaze, “It’s my dream.” His voice falls to a whisper, “I worked so hard to get here, I can’t just stop.”

“I know.” Your voice is flat, “I’m so proud of you, how far you’ve come, everything you’ve achieved.” Your shoulders brush against his, your head falling onto his shoulder, “You worked so hard.”

Oikawa was someone you wondered would he ever be satisfied. When he tasted victory, would it fulfill him or would it make him hungrier? Even on days when he was designated as being off from volleyball, his mind still raced to get ahead; it was what you loved about him. Every second he grew passionate and failure made him starved.

“Shall we go home?” He asks after moments of silence, “Tomorrow’s Monday.”

You ponder his statement for a minute, “I don’t think it would be fair to leave without showing me some of what you were practicing.”

The way his lips contort into a grin, he turns to you, placing a kiss onto the top of your head, “Since you asked.”

He’s eager to grasp the ball, back facing you as he runs to the court. You automatically pull out your phone, opening the camera app to switch to video mode. You stand to your feet, making your way to the opposite side of the net.

“If it looks like it’s coming too close.” He calls out.

“I know I know.” You wave him off, “Duck, run, just basically get out of the way.” You pull the phone down to look at him, “You act like I haven’t gotten hit by one of your serves before.”

“You act like it didn’t give you a concussion.” Oikawa sticks out a tongue to you.

“Yeah well,” You stomp, “Just go.”

It falls silent. His footsteps are ghostly mute, the ball is tossed in the air, he jumps; his palm slapping against the ball. It lands strikingly in front of you, just centimeters in front of your position before bouncing off the floor and over to the side. A chill danced on your spine and you couldn’t help the astonished gasp coming from your mouth.

“Was it too close?” Oikawa moves closer to the net, a slight jog in his step.

“No.” You choke out, “it was perfect. Let’s get a few more.”

His second serve was just as perfect, it landed slightly closer but enough for it to not hit you. As he jumped in the air for a third time, your eyes remained locked on the ball; unconsciously you moved forward a centimeter, you could hear your name come from his mouth as the ball knocked against your shoulder; you fell back, your cell flew from your hands and instinctively you held your pained shoulder.

“Hey.” Oikawa was in your line of vision but his expression blurred in and out. The pain was almost unbearable, “Just wait a second okay.”

You were shouting obscenities, it helped to dull the pain. Perhaps if you were a volleyball player, you’d be able to bounce back from this quicker, but being an average fan who loved to watch instead of play; the pain was much worse than it ever looks on professional players.

Oikawa was pressing a cold pack onto your shoulder. You were finally able to sit up, your shoulder completely sore and numb from the cold. After a few minutes, Oikawa insisted on seeing your shoulder. His looks softened into concern when you lifted your shirt to expose the patch of skin. He tried not to apply pressure as he grazed the portion of skin already starting to purple from the deep impact. He can only image how much darker it would turn out the next day.

“I told you if it got too close.”

“I know.” You state.

“No.” Oikawa’s eyes are sharp, holding back the shakiness that he feels, “What if something happened? It could have hit you right in the face, you’d have another concussion. Tomorrow we’re taking you to the doctor.”

“Tooru, I’m fine.” You try to play it off by moving his hand but his fingers graze against the forming bruise with pressure and you wince.

He helps you stand up, a frown on his lips, “We’re going, who knows, I probably took out your shoulder. Gosh, your mom is going to kill me. She already hates me because I gave you a concussion.”

“If you keep bringing it up, of course she’s going to hate you.” His hand holds yours, his eyes staring at your throbbing shoulder. Your hand brushes against his cheek, “I’m fine.” You attempt to reassure him.

He lowers himself, pulling the neck of your shirt to reveal the spot of skin. He presses a kiss onto the tender spot, a kiss on your neck, a peck on your chin, lips on your cheek, and he draws a breath from your lips.

The flush of your cheeks distracts you from the pain. Your hand instinctively lifts to pull him down for another kiss, but a hiss escapes your mouth as you forget about your shoulder. Oikawa is practically grinning with glee.

“Was my kiss just that good, you need more?” Oikawa leans down, a cocky grin on his lips.

“Never mind.” You push away his puckering lips, walking to your things sitting on the bench.

“Aw, wait for me.”

You sit idly, watching him clean up his mess of volleyballs. You throw instructions at him periodically and he gladly tries to comply. He’s adamant on carrying your bag for you, leaving you to intertwine your fingers with his as you two exit the gym.

“Can we not tell your mom I ruined your shoulder.”

You laugh, “Okay, we’ll just tell her Iwaizumi did it. She’d never get mad at him. She still thinks I could have a shot at marrying him.”

He lets out an audible gasp, “Don’t even joke about that.” Oikawa twirls a strand of your hair when you two stop at the front doors, “If you do, I’ll just skip to plan F.”

“Plan F?”

Oikawa uses his fingers to aim at you, his tongue pokes out teasingly, he lets out a pop from his lips, “Shot-gun wedding.”

“That’s it, I’m leaving you for Hajime.”

#haikyuu x reader #oikawa x reader #my prince #haikyuu #oikawa toru #oikawa scenarios #haikyuu scenarios

[lovelylogans]

parallax

parallax, noun: the apparent offset of a foreground object against the background when your perspective changes. at a given instant, the moon appears among different stars for observers at widely separated locations on earth. astronomers directly calculate the distance to a nearby star by measuring its incredibly small positional changes (its parallax) as earth orbits the sun.

warnings: staying up late, unhealthy study habits, please let me know if i’ve missed any!

pairing: virgil/logan

word count: 2,211

notes: this is for day 2 of @analogicalweek! the prompt of the day is “song/stars” and i have decided to write about stars! please enjoy!

⁂

“Barlow lens,” Virgil reads off the notecard.

“A lens that’s placed into the focusing tube to effectively double or triple a telescope’s focal length and, in turn, the magnification of any eyepiece used with it,” Logan recites. His glasses are off, his hands are over his eyes, and if not for the absurd amounts of coffee they had both consumed and the bright lights of the empty classroom they are occupying, Logan would probably fall asleep.

If not for the fact that Logan loves astronomy so much, he would gladly fold it in for the night and get some much-needed rest. As it is, Virgil is also in his class, and he does not hold the same inclination for the subject.

And also, Logan has a massive crush on Virgil and would likely do anything he asks, except Virgil doesn’t know that part. He likely thinks that Logan is helping him study because of his deep love of science.

“Good. Me now.”

Logan picks up a notecard at random and squints it, resettling his glasses on his nose. “Nebula.”

“Great clouds of glowing gas, lit up by stars inside or nearby.”

“Dark nebula?”

“Not lit up and are visible only because they block the light of stars behind them.”

“Latin for?”

“Cloud.”

“Good,” Logan says, tucking the notecard at the bottom of the pile, or as close as a pile as he can get. Their study materials have made quite a mess. The notecards that Logan made are sprawled across the table, some tucked under their notebooks, and Virgil’s pens are tossed along the table within easy reach. The whiteboard is already filled up with mixtures of both of their handwriting, highlighting key concepts that they’d wanted to go through in this study session. They’re almost all crossed out—all that’s left is general review of key terms.

“Oh, here’s a hard one for you,” Virgil says. His black hair is sticking up in tufts, because he’s been running his hands through it and tugging at the ends for the entirety of their marathon study session. It makes him look very cute. “Albedo feature, and tell me a prominent one.”

“A large area on the surface of a reflecting object that shows a significant contrast in brightness or darkness compared to adjacent areas,” Logan says. “And Syrtis Major, on Mars.”

“You didn’t even hesitate,” Virgil says. “You’re definitely gonna ace this final.”

“Well, obviously,” Logan says, and it only occurs to him to perhaps pretend at humbleness when Virgil snorts. Logan feels his face heat, and he says, “I mean—”

“Nah, nah, it’s cool,” Virgil says, stretching out his long, pale arms, and Logan hopes he isn’t too obvious as he stares at the subtle lines of his biceps, his triceps, his flexor carpi radialis. He had taken off his hoodie two hours in, and his binder not long after that, leaving him in a loose black cap-sleeved t-shirt. Seeing him in it is its own unique brand of torture. Surely if he can manage to recall terms while staring at Virgil’s collarbones and the hollow of his throat he will be able to withstand whatever foot-tapping and pencil-chewing will occur in the large lecture hall during their final.

“You’re the one who’s gonna go for a doctorate in this, it makes sense that you’re incredible at it,” Virgil says. “I know it’s a big deal for you.”

“It is,” Logan says. Virgil knows this. They know quite a lot about each others’ life stories—Logan is the first in his family to attend college in America, let alone achieve a doctorate here. His parents immigrated from Nigeria shortly after his birth and all of them have worked hard—his parents, to provide a life for him here, Logan, to get into a good university in the first place.

“I’m the one who has to worry about making it out of their lab elective with a decent enough grade.” 

He knows that Virgil works hard, too. Their scholarship depends on maintaining a certain grade point average. There is no way Virgil would have achieved this scholarship if he did not work hard, let alone the fact that they have been studying in each others’ presence for the entire school year.

“You’ve done wonderfully this semester,” Logan says stubbornly. “The only way you will fail is if they feed the scantron in wrong while they’re grading and that’s easily remedied.”

Virgil’s brow quirks. “Thanks, specs,” he says, then makes a face, as if realizing how much he sounded like Roman just then.

“It’s just,” Virgil says, then hesitates before he shrugs and looks down at his notebook, avoiding Logan’s eyes. “I dunno. Um, I never really thought college would be an option, ‘till I got my scholarships.”

Logan, familiar with this story, just nods.

“And I,” he sighs, before he says in a whisper, “I really like it here. At university. I didn’t expect to like it so much. I need—if I want to stay, and I do. I need those good grades. And I want to stay, and the scholarship’s let me put aside enough money so I nearly have enough for top surgery, which I won’t be able to do if I lose my scholarship. So. I’m a bit.” A drum of his fingers. “A bit anxious.”

Logan surveys Virgil for a few seconds.

Virgil’s black bangs has swept over his face, obscuring most of his expression from Logan’s view. But he can see the muscle in Virgil’s jaw jumping, his shoulders practically hiked up to his ears. Even without the verbal acknowledgement, Virgil is portraying enough of the physical signs of anxiety that is obvious even to Logan’s emotionally oblivious eye.

Logan pauses, before he reaches across and places his hand on Virgil’s wrist. He likes the feel of it there—Virgil’s skin, chilled from the air conditioning, cooling Logan’s warm palm. He likes the look of it, too, the contrast of them, Logan’s skin seeming even darker against Virgil’s paleness. Considering Logan is black, this is something of a feat, and Virgil would likely have some sort of joke about how he is so absurdly pale that he manages to refract light.

Virgil looks up and chuckles awkwardly.

“But, y’know,” he says. “When am I not a bit anxious, right?”

He does not dislodge Logan’s hand, though. Instead he covers Logan’s hand with his own—his hand is quite large, and it is also cool from the air conditioning. The temperature of Virgil’s hand does not quite explain the jolt in Logan’s stomach.

Logan considers him for a few more moments.

“I have another astronomical term for you to learn,” Logan says decisively, and slides off the desk, standing on his own two feet “But you’ll have to follow me to learn it.”

Virgil’s lip quirks up. “Yeah?”

“Yes.”

Virgil smile widens. “All right, then.”

Logan’s stomach flutters, and he quickly turns his attention to gathering his notecards and notebooks as tidily and swiftly as possible, placing them into his backpack.

Virgil puts all of his things in his own backpack, and when Logan asks him if he’s ready, he simply ambles along after Logan as they walk out of the empty, quiet building on their university campus’ quadrangle. 

Logan leads them to the center of the grassy area, looking around, before he nods decisively and sets his backpack on the ground. He opens a pocket and fishes out the compact travel blanket he has in there.

Virgil laughs as Logan unfolds it. “You have a blanket in there?”

“Of course I have a blanket in here,” Logan says, shaking out the blanket before he lays it out on the grass. “Blankets are ideal for providing significant warmth and offering protection from hypothermia and precipitation.”

“You and your Mary Poppins backpack,” Virgil says, but there is a tone in his voice that Logan... hesitates to describe.

Is it, perhaps, fondness?

No. Logan is likely projecting his crush onto Virgil. He has a tendency to do that. Wishful thinking has been studied by various disciplines of thought and it is a very common occurrence for many people.

Logan wishes it would not be so common for him, though.

Virgil sits on the blanket, then.

“So,” he prompts. “That astronomical term you wanted to teach me?”

Logan smiles, just a little.

“Star party,” he says. “A gathering of amateur astronomers for the purpose of observing objects and events in the sky.”

He tilts back so he’s lying down on his back. He would be looking directly up at the sky, but he tilts his head so he can see Virgil instead.

Virgil’s smile has gone soft. “You want to star-gaze with me?”

As an answer, Logan pats the blanket, as a silent entreatment for Virgil to lie back. Virgil grins, shaking his head, before he acquiesces, settling on the blanket.

It would be so easy to reach over and touch him. It would be only a little bit more effort to roll and balance himself on his elbows, so his face hovers above Virgil’s. And from there it would just be the slightest downward tilt—

Logan redirects his attention to the night sky.

Though it is, obviously, not quite as good a view as they would have had in a more rural location—light pollution is a given on such a large campus—it is still quite a nice night. There are very little clouds in the sky and it is late enough that the moon hangs almost directly overhead. 

Logan points upward at a slight slant, using his right arm rather than his left, so that he will be able to look over and see Virgil’s face without having to lower his arm. “Polaris.”

Virgil shifts, close enough that it would only take the slightest jostle for their arms to touch. “The north star,” he says, and squints up at the sky. “Which means,” he reaches up to take Logan’s wrist in hand, using his outer arm, not the arm that is nearly touching Logan’s, and directs it slightly and Logan can’t breathe, “that Ursa Minor is right over here. Shame we can’t really see it.”

Logan hesitates, biting his lip, before he directs both of their hands again. 

“We can slightly see Ursa Major, though.”

Virgil shifts again, his shoulder pressed against Logan’s. “Huh. We sure can.”

Logan traces the shape in the sky, Virgil’s hand cool, loosely wrapped around his wrist. Logan hopes that Virgil cannot feel how quick his pulse is. “Colloquially known as the Big Dipper.”

Virgil shifts again. Their legs are pressed together now.

Logan continues, trying his hardest not to react, “Though of course, the Big Dipper is only part of Ursa Major. An easy point to find so you can see the rest of the Big Bear, which is—which is a more direct title for Ursa Major.”

“Mhm,” Virgil hums. He can feel the warmth of Virgil’s breath at the shell of his ear. “Hey, I think I see Orion?”

Logan would look up at the sky to continue his quasi-lecture, but instead he turns his head so that he will be able to see Virgil.

Virgil turns at the same time. There is a soft smile on his face.

Logan swallows hard. A hand around his wrist. Continually shifting closer to touch him. What he’d thought might be fondness in Virgil’s voice.

Conjecture: perhaps... Logan isn’t submitting to wishful thinking. Perhaps Logan is simply observing.

“Virgil?” He whispers.

“Yeah?”

“Are you flirting with me?”

Virgil’s eyes crinkle up as his smile widens.

“Logan, I’ve been trying to flirt with you all semester.”

“Oh,” he breathes out. “Okay.”

Virgil lowers their hands from pointing at the sky so their arms rest upon their bodies, and he shifts his hands so that his fingers intertwine with Logan’s.

“I really like you,” Virgil says. His voice is trembling. His hand is shaking in Logan’s.

Logan’s eyes sting. He squeezes Virgil’s hand tightly. “I really like you too.”

Virgil laughs, but it sounds relieved more than anything.

“Um, okay,” Virgil says, looking a little stunned, as if he did not expect this to go as well as it is going. It’s very likely he did not, considering his anxiety disorder. “Cool. That’s—yeah. Great. Um. Wow.”

“I,” Logan says, and he bites his lip. “I do not have much experience with this. Liking boys. Dating, at all. I would like to have that experience with you. Would it be acceptable if I were to kiss you right now?”

“Incredibly,” Virgil says, “Incredibly acceptable.”

Logan releases Virgil’s hand, and carefully rolls so that he is hovering over Virgil the best he can. He has never approached kissing anyone like this before.

He has never kissed anyone before.

Logan takes in a deep breath, swallows hard, and figures he may as well just make an attempt. His heart is thundering in his chest. His hands are sweaty. He angles his face toward Virgil’s and closes his eyes.

Virgil’s hand settles on Logan’s back, and their lips meet.

And very suddenly, the two activities presented to Logan right now are star-gazing or kissing Virgil. And now he is kissing Virgil. He finds that he does not want to stop kissing Virgil.

Star-gazing would have to wait.

#my post #text #my fic #analogical #analogicalweek #sanders sides #sanders sides fanfic #sanders sides fanfiction #virgil sanders #logan sanders

[mageofseven]

What about the brothers reaction to MC wanting a baby? Like, how they would respond to it, feel about it, deal with all the intricacies that comes with a planned pregnancy and think when they see their children for the first time?

Okay, so I've obviously written about the Brothers becoming parents before, but it was always more of an accident.

Planned pregnancy though? Coming right up!

Oh! And I kept the pronouns gender neutral for this, but since it involves pregnancy, MC is afab, I guess the term is? Not fully sure.

Also, unlike my main series for this, there are no complications for these pregnancies so the brothers don't have to worry about MC as much.

~

Lucifer:

Honestly...the anxiety this man feels is hard for even him to hide.

He loves MC; his Heart is everything to him and the only one that he's ever felt he could lean on emotionally. They are there for him when he'd usually have no one and because of that, he doesn't want to deny them anything as long as he can help it.

However...parenthood is a daunting thing to him. He is already a father, regardless of whether he or Satan acknowledges it, and with the direction his relationship with his son has gone, he honestly feels like a failure as a father

So to have another child to risk hurting in the same way he has with Satan? The man doesn't feel okay with the risk.

It takes a lot of comfort from MC to get him to agree to it

And from then on, he prepares.

To start with, he takes some time off of work and RAD for them both.

It's not just for the baby-making activity, though of course they do plenty of that while his brothers are at school.

It's also time for the two of them to just be together and enjoy themselves. He takes them out for lunch, watches any movie they wish, cuddles with them on the couch or bed, even dances with MC in the music room to one of his safer records.

This free time is not just to start the path of parenthood for them; it's a romantic time to enjoy themselves and express their love for each other more openly and freely without worry of his brothers interupting or Luce needing to get back to work.

When they offically discover that MC was pregnant, the anxiety crept back up in him, but his Love's excitement and smiles were enough to push it back.

Despite always having a heavy work load, the oldest made it a priority to have the nursery done very early on and stocking up certain things like diapers, clothes, and toys.

His anxiety pushed him to make sure everything was perfect, but MC had to pull him aside a few times because Luce, they are only three months along, chill dude, you have time.

With time and more reassurance from MC, his anxiety really did fall, though didn't completely disappear and hovered over her as much as his work allowed.

When MC went into labor, he had everything under control. He called the doctor and kept calm as he watched over his Love.

When he held his daughter for the first time...it was as if everything shifted inside of him. He was less worried about failing her and more concerned with making sure he doesn't.

He vowed to make sure Ksenia always feels safe, valued, and loved.

Mammon:

Um...have you seen his bank account, MC?

Y'all are nowhere ready for children, financially speaking.

In truth, Mammon does want kids; he's a very family oriented demon, even if his family doesn't see him that way.

But damn, he really has to get his shit together in order to be a good dad.

After hearing this Human beg for it though, how could the second brother say no?

Before they actually start the whole baby-making process though, the man has a debt to deal with now that he can no longer justify staving it off.

He managed to pay off a huge chunk of it by stealing from the demon lord's castle but after getting punished by Lucifer and facing a disappointed MC, he decided to pay off the rest and start saving up in a more honest way.

Honestly, it wasn't his preferred way of making his Grimm, but MC went on and on about morals and what they'd be teaching their child if they found out their dad was selling other people's shit so they could have him or her, and a lot of other guilt-tripping that the Avatar of Greed gave into. Man, they haven't even made the freaking kid yet and he already has to get his act together...

Debt gone and a decent start to his savings later, the fun part actually begins--making the kid! The demon couldn't help but gloat to his brothers about much he was getting laid, which was embarrassing to MC but hey, it's cute seeing the human's cheeks all red so no drawbacks for the Greed demon.

Once discovering MC is pregnant...well, Mammon is one of the brothers who hovers over his human, though he denies it the whole pregnancy.

When his Human went into labor, it was the kind of thing where the man pretended to be calm, but was obviously freaking out and eventually he fainted.

He woke up though and just in time for his Human to push out their daughter.

Cassia...just one look at his little girl and he knew that all of his hard work before and the self-improvement he's been trying to do...he knew it was all worth it.

Leviathan:

Boy choked on his chips when MC asked him for a baby.

Like what did he just hear???

His Henry wants a baby--with him of all people??

Yeah, I mean, he is their boyfriend, but still, the Avatar of Envy felt like this must be bad judgement on the human's part.

I mean, he's a dirty otaku. The demon doesn't even understand why they'd date him, but wanting a kid with him?

There's also the fact that...well, what it means to be an otaku. Having a kid doesn't exactly fit in with his shut-in lifestyle.

Basically, it left him feeling as if he doesn't deserve to have a kid with his Henry and that he wouldn't be good as a dad anyway; being a shut-in otaku is all he knows at this point and since being dad kinda requires you to, ya know, not be that and putting your kid first, he really has no faith in himself.

But MC did and honestly, that meant a lot to the Envy demon.

Things weren't decided in that moment. Knowing that their boyfriend was overwhelmed, the human simply asked him to give it some thought and told him that they'll love him regardless.

The man let it sit with him for a couple weeks and everytime he saw a kid in an anime or saw a commercial for some kind of toy, the otaku wondered 'what if'. What would it really be like to be a dad?

It was anime that finally made him cave. Seeing families and parents interacting with their children in them, it really did tempt the man. He recognized that it was fiction and being a parent wouldn't be exactly like that, but still; it made him wanna try.

Seeing MC's face light up when he told them he'd do it honestly made the man feel good about himself.

When MC becomes pregnant, he doesn't necessarily hover; he doesn't feel the need to always be around them or limit what they can do. He's simply more touchy-feely, surprisingly enough. Not in any inappropriate way; just more hugs, hand holding, cuddles. He just insists on more closeness than before, which MC has no complaints about.

When MC went into labor, he was a bit panicky, but pulled through. Unlike Mammon, he never fainted and was able to give support to his Henry through the process.

Holding his son just felt...surreal. Like, how the hell did this happen??? I mean yeah, he knows how, but still, it's just unbelievable. He has a son. He's a dad.

Levi honestly never thought his life would be brought to this point, but looking down at Kai, he was glad it was. In that moment, he was anxiously optimistic about their future.

Satan:

....

Yeah, MC, sweetheart, this man doesn't particularly like kids...

It's not necessarily a hard 'no' though.

After all, Satan doesn't like saying no to his sweet Kitten if he can help it.

The two spend a while discussing it, going over all the prep work they'd need to do, the finances of the situation (like, both in regards to their own finances and literally showing them statistics of how much Grimm demon parents have to spend on average for their children from birth to adulthood), and about how their life will change if they take this step. About the sacrifices they'll have to make and the new responsibilities. After all, the couple won't be able to just focus on each other anymore; their routines will have to change, their be energy put towards caring for the child. Their whole lives will have to revolve around them.

The human accepted all of it though and was ready for the change.

So the blonde agreed, despite his own feelings on the matter, feelings he never thought to speak up about before and after hearing MC's request, doesn't want to.

The couple didn't really set time aside with baby-making in mind and try to rush things. They simply slept with each whenever they just happened to be in the mood for it, like always, but stopped using the runes on they commonly put on MC for birth control.

Essentially, they just went through their days as normal and just let things happen at their own pace.

When MC became pregnant, the Wrath demon had to admit, their excitment was contagious. Seeing them happy...it really felt good to the blonde, despite his own feelings on it all.

Satan wasn't the type to hover, not really. He looked after them, giving little reminders of what they can and cannot eat in this condition as well as when they needed to take certain vitamins, but otherwise, things continued on as usual between the two.

Though his feelings about becoming a parent never completely changed during the pregnancy, seeing his Kitten's belly grow and them look forward to this child more and more as time went on, it did give him the feeling that he made the right choice

And when he felt his child kick inside MC for the first time, the realness of it all really put a crack in his mentality.

Their baby...this was a being who sparked such joy in his Kitten and that was enough for the Avatar of Wrath to start to love his child, though he didn't recognize that fact at the time.

When MC went into labor, he kept them calm and comfortable. Walked with them when they wanted to walk, which he read was good for helping labor along, and gave encouragement whenever his Kitten needed it.

When his daughter was born and he watched his Kitten hold her close, crying happy tears, the man couldn't even describe what he was feeling within himself.

When MC asked if he wanted to hold their daughter, Satan declined. Not out of rejection for Amelie but...was it really safe for him to hold a being so delicate?

"Satan..."

With his Kitten insisting with such a cute, sad face though, how could he not?

Extra carefully, he took his daughter into his arms, causing the small baby to whine and reach up her little hands at him.

This. This was the moment that he realized that despite his original bias that he really did love his daughter.

Amelie was a gift that he never knew he wanted; knew he needed. Thanks to MC though, she's here and with two parents that her more than anything in the three realms.

Asmodeus:

Asmo is a brother that I can honestly see things happening either way: with MC bringing up the idea to him or Azzy bringing the idea up to them.

Asmo loves babies--at least, I see him as someone whose mostly good with them and likes the idea of them. He can't handle things like diaper changes or anything gross like that, but he finds them adorable.

And what would be even cuter than a baby? His baby. I mean, how can you carry genetics from this man and not be gorgeous?

Luckily, MC agrees. The two don't stop to talk about anything practical with the subject. They want a baby so Azzy has the two of them start making them right then and there (well, after Lucifer scolds Asmo for trying to do so on the living room couch and the couple retreats to his room).

The first of the brothers to be genuinely excited when MC ends up pregnant and not be overshadowed by anxiety.

Very touchy-feely during his Dolly's pregnancy, more than usual. Especially once MC starts to develop their cute little belly.

Lots of kisses and talking to their belly, even long before the baby has developed enough to hear him.

This man just has too much love for his child and can't contain it all till they're born.

When MC goes into labor, he's not too anxious, but he feels bad that his Dolly has to through such pain.

Very good at comforting the human during this time. Gives lots of kisses and encouraging words, telling them how well they're doing and how their baby just can't wait to meet them.

Cries when he first holds his son. Sees Liam as the most perfect and sweet being to exist, only tied with himself and MC.

Beelzebub:

Let's face it; Beel was the one who brought the topic up. This family man got baby fever and immediately ran to Muffin for help with it.

Like, I can literally see him rushing into the kitchen while they're on cooking duty and MC smiling and asking if he'd like to taste test, only for him to blurt out that he wants a baby, as if it was something as simple a cookie or a new shirt.

After MC gets over the shock of such a request, they sit down with Beel and actually discuss such a big step.

Regardless of whether MC had thought about it before this moment, how could they say no to this big sweet man who has an endless amount of love to give?

After agreeing, MC has to coax the man away because he gets a little too excited and wants to start right then, but the human still has to finish dinner.

After dinner though! Baby making time!

Becomes insanely happy when his Muffin ends up pregnant. This man literally couldn't stop smiling his cute freaking smile even if he wanted to.

Doesn't really hover over them while they're pregnant; there's honestly little to no anxiety in this man over his child or worry about the pregnancy.

He does, however, do practically everything for them. Let him carry that bag. It's fine. They don't need to be carrying something so heavy. Tired? It's okay, go rest; he'll cook dinner instead. Feet hurt? He'll carry them home so they don't need to walk anymore.

Just a reminder that this is all done out of love though and not anxiety. He's not worried about anything going wrong; he just loves his Muffin so much and is so grateful that they're willing to have his baby.

Finding out that MC was carrying twins just made him even happier. MC had no chance of breaking free of his bear hug (which of course, he was very careful not to squeeze their belly so it was more a side hug).

Spent a lot of time during the pregnancy snuggling up to MC's belly. Anytime the two of them laid down together, he did it. Whether on the couch as they watched a movie together, or in bed together at the end of their day or as he laid with the human as they took a nap. He'd nuzzle their belly and speak soft, sweet words to their babies.

The only time this man shows any negativity about this pregnancy is when his Muffin goes into labor. As it progressed, part of him felt guilty since they were in this pain because of him. He loved their twins and wanted them to be born, but hated that MC had to cry and scream and writhe in pain to make it happen.

When it was finally over and his girls were in the world, being fed by his Muffin, this man couldn't stop watching them. His daughters. Daughters. Devil, they were so perfect to him.

And that was the day where he felt his life could never get any better. His Muffin had just perfected his life with their loving heart and hardwork and the man honestly couldn't be happier. Arsenia and Anais are exactly what he's been missing in his life and his love for them is immeasurable.

Belphegor:

MC...sweetie...this man doesn't like kids at all 😔

After having to deal with Satan as a kid, he has long decided that he doesn't wanna deal with them anymore.

So when MC brings it up to him and asks their boyfriend for a baby, he honestly will not be able to understand why they'd want one.

Yeah, Belphie loves MC, but this would still be a very hard 'no' from him.

Honestly, the only way MC would be able to get a baby from him would be by reminding him of the Incident™️, of him murdering them, and essentially being like 'a life for a life'.

Belphie holds a lot of guilt within him for killing them and whether he realizes it or not, a part of him has been desperately searching for a way to atone so he doesn't have to feel bad about it anymore.

So if this is the way to do it... he guesses that he has no choice.

It's honestly sad. MC really wants him to want a baby too, but can only hope his feelings will change down the line.

When MC becomes pregnant, he understands even less about why they'd want this. Each day, he hears his human in the bathroom, dealing with their morning sickness, and wonders why they want a baby so bad even when they're making them puke their guts out every morning.

Still, he takes care of them. Belphie is a lot of things, but an asshole isn't one of them. He wasn't just gonna knock them up and let MC suffer through it alone. Even if they wanted this, it doesn't change the fact that they're still his Human and that little gremlin making them puke was his kid so he's gotta take care of them.

Doesn't sleep as much as he used to while MC is pregnant. Tries his hardest to stay awake and help them out when needed.

Mostly only naps when they nap and as MC gets farther along, they need plenty of naps.

Finding out MC was pregnant with twins...devil, the man felt like he had the worst luck. He groaned and with it, he hurt his Human's feelings on accident.

He wasn't trying to ruin this for them. He wanted MC to be happy, really he did; all he could think about when he heard the news was how much extra work it was gonna be though. I mean, one baby already demands a lot of time and energy to take care of, but two? Ugh...

Kinda hovered over them during the pregnancy. He just wanted to make them as comfortable as he could, despite the fact that he still for the life of him couldn't understand why they'd choose this for themself. Puking, back pain, exhaustion, weird ass cravings. How was this worth it to the human?

He wanted to understand, but he couldn't and since he couldn't, all he could do was accept it and try to lighten it all for them, if he can.

When his kids kicked for the first time, MC's eyes lit up before they quickly stopped and grabbed their boyfriend's hand.

"Belphie! They kicked! They--" He watched the light drain from their eyes as they deflated. "Oh...sorry, I forgot for a second..."

God, this was the last thing he wanted. The seventh brother put so much effort into trying to make them happy, but they still think he cares so little about something that made them happy, just because it's about their kids?

"Show me."

MC raised an eyebrow.

"Are your sure?"

Belphie sighed.

"Just let me feel it, Butthead."

The human brought his hand to their belly, watching him closely. When he felt a kick, the man's eyes widened.

He didn't really say or do anything at first.

"Belphie?"

He took his hand off their belly, but never let MC's hand leave his. He squeezed it.

"You don't have to avoid things like that with me, Dummy. I'm glad they're healthy enough to do that."

And that was the truth. Belphie was glad his kids seemed to be doing fine. I mean, they're strong enough that he can feel their kicks so that must be a good sign

And most importantly, he wanted his Human to share with him the moments that make them happy because that's the point of all of this; to make them happy.

Devil, was this man anxious when they went into labor. Not that he let MC see that, of course. Like he tends to do with a lot of his emotions, he bottles them up and just focuses on helping his Human.

When his children were born and he watched MC hold them so close, so lovingly...he honestly didn't know what he was feeling, not fully.

All he knew for sure was that these three were depending on him and always would.

It took him a year or two, but he did end up bonding with his kids. Judas and Lilith...being their dad was different than he thought it would be. It wasn't always easy, especially with how much Lilith misbehaves at times, but these are his kids and they love him without limit. The Sloth demon had to admit, such love was just contagious.

The four of them were actually happy. This wasn't just some obligation he had to fulfill anymore; this was a life he enjoyed living and he honestly couldn't remember the last time he could say that before his twins.

#obey me #obey me otome #obey me lucifer #obey me mammon #obey me leviathan #obey me satan #obey me asmodeus #obey me beelzebub #obey me belphegor #obey me mc

[daily-dose-of-imagines]

ꜰᴏʀɢᴇᴛ ᴍᴇ ɴᴏᴛ | ᴋᴀɪ ᴄʜɪꜱᴀᴋɪ x ꜰ!ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ | ᴏɴᴇ-ꜱʜᴏᴛ

Y’all thought it was oVER? lolol Blame Admin T--- I asked her who I should write for BNHA and she said this SO ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ As always, thank you all so much for the love and support for this blog~! I hope you all enjoy this as much as I did with writing it~!

I do apologize if I don’t capture his character the best ;;” 

I won’t lie, I was listening to Might U as I was writing this.

» » Admin Ko

Tedious. At least, that’s what it should’ve been. Yet instead of feeling the normal bouts of irritation at the lack of control he had over the situation at hand, he felt...unnerved. The imaginary seed that was implanted in his stomach all those months ago seemed to only gain in mass.

“...Who are you?”

He shouldn’t have allowed himself to grow these...feelings. Not only did he feel contaminated and utterly sick to his stomach, but the strange ache in his chest did nothing to help soothe his frazzled nerves as those curious yet dim (e/c) hues peered into his sorrowful golden ones.

“...My name is Chisaki Kai...”

“Oh! Hello Chisaki.”

A bout of coughing and another grimace as the pain in his chest amplified tenfold at the horrifying sound. It disgusted him. It truly did, yet instead of feeling the need to get away, he wanted to get closer to her. To comfort her-- hell to shake some common sense into her. Even if it meant he would break out, he just had to do something.

“I...apologize if this seems rude...”

“What is it?”

“...what happened to your arms?”

“...I lost them because I was careless. This...I suppose, is my punishment.”

Her curious stare continued to wash over him as he felt the prickle of goosebumps rise on his shoulders. Turning away, he kept his gaze on the vacant wall of the hospital ward. This was torturous. She was torturous. 

Yet still she managed to worm her way into his heart, and he didn’t know whether or not if he wanted to ask for cardiac surgery or to embrace this newfound emotion.

All he really knew was that if he had only been smarter-- hell maybe even faster at coming up with the quirk-destroying drug he could’ve prevented this. He could’ve gotten rid of the parasite that lurked in her veins.

➽───────────────❥

6 Months Ago

“Patient name: (y/n) (l/n). Quirk: Amnesiac.”

Trudging down the corridor, the man once known as Overhaul, walked in step alongside his parole officer / attending doctor. It hadn’t been too long since his arrest and...amputation. In all honesty, he wondered why he was being granted this rare privilege. 

An assistant for a patient. That’s all they had told him. Of course Kai had to scoff. How on earth was he supposed to help? With the lack of usable limbs and knowledge limited to that of basic medical needs he didn’t really find a real necessity in this patient’s apparent ‘recovery’.

“...Amnesiac?”

“As it’s name implies, it’s a quirk that deals the user amnesia--- yet in our patient’s case it not only forces her to lose her memories, but practically breaks down her body’s physical state.”

“...In simpler terms?”

“In short every time she loses her memory her body deteriorates along with it. It’s as if her body is, in a sense...rewinding itself forward to make up for the fact that she lost those memories.”

A grimace. If he could, he would’ve spat out that he had been right in his assumption that quirks were just an infestation to the world, this patient clearly being a poor victim of it.

“...And what is my purpose of ‘assisting’ you?”

“As far as I’m aware, you’re pretty damn heartless and selfish. So it should be easy for you to not catch feelings for her whilst being a constant in her life right?”

“A...constant.”

“Yeah, just someone who she sees everyday until well...”

“She passes.”

“I mean...yeah. Damn you really are heartless.”

“Tch. This is a waste of my time is what this is.”

“Hey, you’re helping me whether you want to or not man. It’s just a visit everyday for like, an hour or two at most.”

Another grimace was given as Kai felt a shiver run down his spine. Despite the place he would be in was a hospital, it still brought the ex-yakuza boss a sense of dread. Especially with the amount of infested bodies that littered the place.

“...how long?”

“Holy shit dude, I get that you don’t want to do this but seriously---”

“How long until she loses her memory you dumbass.”

“..Oh. Well, from what we gather they can last from a day, to a couple of months. Though the longer she stays in a...well, let’s call it a session, the more it harms her body.”

“So say she forgets me tomorrow.”

“Then her body moves forward a day.”

“....After a month?”

“She lurches forward a month.”

“Thus leading to a quick progression in her deteriorating health.”

“...Exactly.”

It was, to say the least, unsettling to hear. Never had he heard of such a sickening twist for a quirk. No matter, the deal was simple. If he was lucky, this would last a year-- as fucked up as it sounded, the sooner she passed the less she would suffer in the long run.

As they neared the door, the clear unease that settled on his features was one that his parole doctor could see from a mile away. 

“Chill dude, it’ll be fine.”

With that, the door cracked open, and there seated quietly whilst reading a book was a woman. By any standards she was normal, average, easy on the eyes with a slight fae-like feel. Though really it was most likely the early evening glow that cascaded into her room the moment they entered. 

All Kai really knew was that it was the moment when gold met glittering (e/c) hues that a seed lodged it’s way into his stomach.

➽───────────────❥

It had started off easy-- well in Kai’s opinion it had. Every other day seemed to be a new start to the ritual that was re-introducing himself to her and making small talk. 

In all honesty, he wouldn’t admit it, but the simplicity of being able to have a normal conversation with someone brought a sense of peace in him. Of course this didn’t mean his usual snark and calculating ways-- or so he says.

For Kai, this change in routine was oddly enough, welcomed. With everything he had gone and the collogues he had imprisoned god knows where, the opportunity to engage in small talk was to say the least, enlightening. It had surprised him. As someone who sought out tactical moves in reading his opponents, he found himself at ease with the simplicity of where he was at.

Granted it was albeit dull in comparison to the interrogations he goes through, it was still a part of his routine that he refused to change. Not when he’s been so invested in it.

That changes when the day he enters her room to find that instead of having to reintroduce himself to her, she remembers him. She flashes him a gentle smile with an endearing, “How are you?” and that in itself has the former yakuza leader lose his breath as he can only comically blink at her before forcing himself to adjust to this strange change.

No later did another change occur that brought a wave of new emotions in him. She had touched him. A caress to his cheek, and unsurprisingly in that moment he broke out in hives. His sight blurring as panic shot through his system at the abundance of thoughts that struck his head as the irritation from the hives had him reeling away from her.

He didn’t see her distressed face. Nor did he see the tears that streamed down her cheeks as she desperately sought out someone to help him. Instead, he awoke to his room laying down with his hives treated. 

He felt violated. Disgusted, yet still. Even with that he found himself at her door a week later. Prepared to start a new with her and a possible replay of what had happened a week prior. Instead, he found her bowed deeply at the waist as she tightly clutched at the thin fabric of her hospital gown.

“I’m so sorry Chisaki! I didn’t know...I deeply apologize for what had happened!”

“...You...remembered?”

“Of course! You’re someone I can never forget.”

The pit in his stomach grew tenfold as his feet began to walk towards the awaiting lounge chair. Golden hues met truthful (e/c) ones as she shifted uncomfortably in her seat before once again bowing.

“I really am sorry...I shouldn’t have reached out to you like that...”

“...just be more aware next time.”

And like that, the pit in his stomach continued to grow. With each passing day she retained her memories, the more the pit swelled in size, and the more she began to work her way into his heart.

➽───────────────❥

Present Day

He didn’t know why he felt an overwhelming pressure in his gut. The lack of food he ate was odd enough, but to actively avoid something out of his daily routine? It was unheard of. He even made that stupid request to ask his parole doctor to grab (y/n) that stupid drink she liked. 

Mentally shaking his head, Kai lightly tapped his shoe against the door before sliding it open. 

The sight bestowed upon him though was one that could’ve brought him to his knees as the pang in his chest seemed to duly ache as he dragged his feet into the room.

“...(y/n)?”

It was quiet. The warm beams of the spring sun settled on her pale features as dim (e/c) orbs glimmered at the sight of him. He should’ve seen this coming. Especially after she had remembered him the day it set everything out of pattern. Instead, he turned a blind eye. Out of pure ignorance? He wasn’t remotely sure anymore. All he knew was that she shouldn’t be like this.

She should be her stupid lively self, cracking jokes and sharing her stupid stories with him. Not laying there like a corpse.

“Ah...Chi-- Kai, sorry you caught me waking up from a nap. I’m sorry I don’t look more presentable...”

“Nonsense. Now, tell me what you’ve done today.”

“Straight to the point huh? Sometimes I wonder how you’d ever date anyone.”

Though weak, the teasing tone she held in her voice was one that added more weight to his chest as he seated himself in what she declared the ‘(y/n)’s best friend’s chair’. A stupid name if you asked him, but he wouldn’t tell her that.

And like that, she spoke of her day, simple tasks and duties she’s done during her stay at the hospital while Kai listened to her as the best friend she claimed he was. 

As for the new name basis, Kai couldn’t tell anyone when it picked up. All he knew was that it didn’t piss him off as much as it should’ve.

As the time neared for him to leave, she stopped him. A look of hesitance on her face as irritation seemed to grow on his own.

“What is it?”

“....Can I hold your face?”

“What?!”

“With gloves on!”

The statement caught him by surprise. Already he felt the disgusting voices in the back of his head whisper at him yet instead of acting on those voices he found himself mutely staring at her as she fumbled over her words.

All he could really pick out was the light blush that was on her cheeks. The spark of color that brought his feet towards her bedside as she stared up at him with shock in those (e/c) eyes. 

“Tch. What are you waiting for?”

Caught off guard, she could only stare at him for a moment before giddily shifting herself to get off the bed. A noise of distaste left his throat at her motion as she merely rolled her eyes and shushed him as she went to fervently clean her hands before snapping on the gloves.

Yet as she did this he couldn’t help but feel the ache in his chest grow even more at the sight of her frail hands and the subtle appearance of a bruise around her wrist at her careless motion of snapping the gloves on. This was immediately forgone as she walked up to him, mindful to keep a distance before she hesitantly held her hands out in a flower cup motion.

At first, Kai had no idea what she was doing, but as he grew to analyze the situation-- as well as remember the odd videos and photos she decided to show him as she sought a sort of relationship herself-- he carefully put his chin into her hands. The hesitancy of her fingers brushing his cheeks pulled a new sort of fondness in his chest as he finally relaxed his cheek against her shy hand.

Golden eyes peered deeply into glimmering (e/c) as he watched her face light up with the most color he had see on her that day. Satisfied, he waited until she finally let go.

“...Thank you, Kai.”

“No problem.”

“No really...thank you...for everything.”

Unease quickly overtook the fondness in his heart as he straightened himself out. Confusion was clearly matted onto his features as he stared down at her.

“...Why are you saying that?”

“What? I can’t say what I want for once? You let me all the time so just let me say this too!”

Finding the whole situation uncomfortable, Kai made his way to the door once more. Though before he left he motioned with his head for her to get back into bed. In response, he got her usual snark as she stuck her tongue out before carefully getting back into bed.

“If you’re on good behavior tomorrow, I’ll have your doctor bring you that drink of yours.”

The light in her eyes was enough to satisfy him and his worries as she nodded quickly before giving him a mock salute as she excitedly got herself comfy in the bed.

“Alright, you promised Kai~!”

➽───────────────❥

“Who are you?”

It should’ve have hurt him as much as it did, but after 6 fucking months. 6 months of her being a daily part of his life where she did not forget him for a single moment came crashing down. The tremble that clutched tightly to his words as he re-introduced himself went unnoticed as he slowly made his way towards the lounge chair that was once considered to be (y/n)’s best friend’s chair. 

“...My name is Chisaki Kai.”

“Oh! Hello Chisaki.”

He could tell she was straining with keeping up a happy front. Her appearance was frail. So delicate that he feared anyone who touched her would be the cause of her disappearing before his eyes. The drink he had requested for her sat innocently on the bedside table as she gave him a reassuring smile.

“It’s going to be okay...”

“...what?”

“You look...distressed, I wanted to just reassure you things will be okay.”

No they won’t. He wanted to scream it at her, that the rasp in her voice was punching holes into his gut. That the frail breathing she had was worse than his quirk being taken away from him.

And in that moment, they stayed in silence. Merely watching one another with mixed emotions before he broke back into the routine he once thought would be meaningless.

“...What did you do today?”

Her words, though slow, told him of a peaceful day. One with little adventures and many simple moments that he’s come to slowly appreciate in his own life. 

Though as the hour of his leave came, he found it hard to get up from the chair. His feet staying practically cemented to the floor as he watched her peer out the window as the warm rays of the early evening sun cascaded over her. Much like it had that day he first saw her.

Forcefully pushing himself up from the chair, he made his way towards the door. Yet each step he took towards it the more the aching feeling in his chest grew as the fear of his last day in that room came to it’s due date.

“...Kai? Can you turn around for me...just once?”

The words caught him completely off guard as he turned to face her. Those eyes no longer were filed with guarded walls. Instead he was met with the face of (y/n). The woman he came to slowly adore within the past 6 months.

He didn’t even think. Instead he surged forward, practically bruising his legs at the force he decided to stop himself with. Though he didn’t care. The bruises be damned, she remembered him. 

“...Can I hold your face? One more time? I promise I won’t ask again. I’ll even wear gloves!”

“...No need.”

The aching in his chest grew tenfold as he found it hard to speak. The overwhelming emotions that sat in his chest were ready to burst out of him. Though he wasn’t sure how. Instead he bent down slightly, finding her confused face even more endearing before he rolled his eyes.

“Well?”

“B-But...the hives---”

“I don’t care. Hurry the fuck up.”

Like that, the confusion vanished as she gently put her hands together in that familiar flower cup motion. Worry was clearly evident in her eyes as she looked at him, but before she could even question again he placed his chin into her awaiting hands. Already the prickly sensation of the hives began to pool as he could feel them form across his skin.

“K-Kai--”

“It’s fine. Shut up. You said you won’t ask again.”

“T-That’s true...”

“Tch. You can make it up to me by getting better so I can show you the world.”

“...when you’re not in prison anymore, right?”

“Right...”

It was hard to speak now. The lump that once was in his stomach had traveled to his throat as he watched her warm (e/c) glisten with unshed tears as she gently caressed his cheeks, ever so mindful of his hives as she tried to at least move her hands. Instead, the male pressed himself further into her touch as the tears began to fall. If anyone noticed the strain in his voice, they didn’t mention it.

“...If you’re gonna be greedy that do what you’ve been wanting to do you romantic obsessed moron.”

With that, she shifted forward before pressing a sweet kiss to his forehead as the tears came down harder. The lump in his throat making it almost unbearable to talk.

“...Thank you Kai...thank you so much for these six months...”

“.....”

“Don’t forget me...okay?”

“Idiot...as if I could even forget the one dumbass that made me breakout after my imprisonment.”

A weak laugh was given as she finally pulled away. With her eyes rimmed red, she shifted to make a call for a nurse, though that was cut short as Kai surprisingly climbed into her bed. No words were exchanged as she reluctantly shifted herself down into the bed-- though it did take time, she managed to curl herself in a way where she left distance between them. 

“...aren’t you supposed to go?”

Featherlike and faint, he strained to hear her as he shifted himself down to properly face her as he melted in her (e/c) gaze. The slow dimming of life in her eyes was enough to tell him that it was time. However, he refused to believe it. If anything he’d find her awake the next day with that silly smile on her face. Yet even as he thought about this, the tears that he once thought were impossible for him, slowly began to stream down his cheeks as he nestled himself closer to her.

“....one day won’t kill them.”

“...mmm...”

“....go to sleep angel, I’ll be right here...”

“...and...you’ll be next to me?”

“...always.”

➽───────────────❥

Patient Name: (y/n) (l/n) Chisaki Quirk: Amnesiac 

Time of Death: 6:05PM

#bnha x reader #mha x reader #overhaul x reader #kai chisaki x reader #chisaki kai x reader #chisaki x reader #mha scenarios #bnha scenarios #mha imagines #bnha imagines #chisaki angst #we about to drop more angst in this bish #i know i should be working on wips and requests but i can't help it ksksksk

[septembers-kingdom-of-dreams]

September's Kingdom of Dreams

Chapter 10

She struggled against the stranger's firm grasp and tried to scream, but his gloved hand muffled every sound. Then suddenly she heard a whisper right behind her.

"Stay quiet if you want to live."

She froze and heard footsteps approaching. The stranger pulled her further into the darkness of the forest.

Suddenly the commander in white armour appeared where she'd stood. From up close he looked entirely unremarkable, a man of average height and weight with short blonde hair and greenish blue eyes. His hands were bloodstained.

"The blind one was coming from here," he said. "The dreamer cannot be far."

September felt her heart racing under her raincoat. What had they done to Diol?

Behind her, the stranger crept further into the overgrown brambles. He was shaking.

"Doctor Hallafeen, she could be anywhere," a Nightmare said, appearing from the battlefield. "There's no use in trying."

Hallafeen growled a little. "I don't like being bested."

"Should we kill the others?"

Before September could react the stranger wrapped his arms tighter around her, trapping her in his iron grip.

Hallafeen hesitated, then shook his head. A thin, cold smile played on his lips. "I quite like them. They've shown remarkable strength...let them live. Tonight is not the night, but I will return and discuss a possible...allyship with them."

"All right." The Nightmare returned to the battlefield.

Hallafeen stood still for a moment. Then he chuckled and left.

"Sorry I scared you," the stranger whispered into September's ear. He had a lisp. "I heard him coming and acted on impulse. Please don't scream when I take my hand off your mouth."

Suddenly September could breathe again. She turned her head and found herself face to face with...a scarecrow. A completely regular scarecrow made of brown fabric and straw, with green glass eyes and a row of stitches across the bridge of it's nose, wearing an old green flannel and dungarees, which was nothing out of the ordinary, but suddenly the scarecrow gave her a smile. Human teeth appeared behind the fabric.

September flinched and his smile disappeared. He quickly let go of her and raised his gloved hands, as if to calm her down.

"Please don't freak out, I'm not here to hurt you!", he whispered.

September was hyperventilating. She pressed her hands on her mouth to muffle the yelp that was about to escape her lips.

There was worry in his glass eyes. "D-do you want me to give you a moment?"

She swallowed hard. Then she lowered her hands and took a few deep breaths.

"Jesus!", she finally uttered. "Sorry. Sorry, that was rude."

He waved it off. "I'm used to it. Listen, we gotta get away from here as fast as possible. Do you trust yourself with that?"

September nodded. "S-sure."

He smiled, a little more hesitant this time. "Great."

***

They reached the edge of the forest by midnight. Stars stretched across the vast sky above the cornfield.

"Okay but I gotta ask," September began. "Who are you? Why are you helping me?"

"The name's Bubak." He traced a blue flower growing on the side of the field. Then he glanced up at her. "Originally I was supposed to lure you to Mantis' castle by pretending to be nice and earning your trust, but honestly, I'm conflicted."

"Why?" September raised an eyebrow. "You don't strike me as the kind of person that supports Mantis. So what is it? Does he have something in his hand against you?"

He stopped and turned to look at her. "Hallafeen promised to tell me where I came from." His voice broke. "Said he knows. I'm a revenant, you see, and I've lost... basically all my memories from before. I don't... I don't remember a single thing. No friends, no family, not even my name. It's just vast emptiness."

"But are you sure he's going to keep his promise?"

"Not really," Bubak admitted. "But it's my only chance."

"But why do you need it? I mean..." September took a deep breath. "You obviously don't like what you're doing, and I highly doubt he treats you fairly, so why make your life a living hell?"

"I don't know where to go," he admitted quietly. "I hate Mantis. I hate him so much. He just...goes around, doing nothing but hurt people. He's awful. And when I try to call him out he threatens me. I mean... I try to help where I can. Smuggle prisoners out, do my job bad on purpose...but... it's just so bad, you know?"

"When will he tell you the secret?", September asked.

Bubak hesitated for a moment and bit his full lip.

"When you're captured," he finally admitted and sagged. "I really don't want to do this, I absolutely don't, but I just don't have a choice."

He let out a small huff. "Anyway. Care for a rest stop?"

***

September woke up in the blue hours of dawn, her head in Bubak's lap. He was leaned against a rock, his green glass eyes mirroring the stars above.

She shifted and sat up. "You're still awake?"

He chuckled. "Yeah, I guess."

"Aren't you tired?"

Bubak shrugged his narrow shoulders. "No, I don't sleep."

"In general, or...?"

"In general."

"Oh."

"Sleeping must be wild." He leaned back. "You just chill and do nothing and you wake up refreshed??"

September laughed. "I don't know how it works either." She tilted her head. "Since we're exchanging questions anyway, hypothetically, what would happen if you took your gloves off?"

Bubak tilted his head in response. "Hypothetically, what would happen if you took your skin off?"

"I...well, actually I have no idea-"

Bubak nodded and grinned. "So do I."

"Oh. Okay."

He shrugged his narrow shoulders. "I haven't tried to be honest but I've cut myself a couple times and it hurt so I'm not sure whether I want to try."

"Oh ouch." September yawned. "How far is it until Mantis' castle?"

"A day or two." A soft breeze ran through Bubak's straw hair. "I'd be faster alone, but unlike you I don't really tire, so..."

"Oh, how charming."

"I'm doing my best. If I'm sending you to your doom I might as well give you a pleasant final journey."

#september's kingdom of dreams

[criminally--reid]

breath play

the spencer fic I've been talking about for weeks lmao

Warnings: dom!spencer, breath play, degredation, being tied up, praise, dirty talk, (this ended up being a lot less intense than I anticipated lmao my b I guess :/ )

Pairing: spencer x fem! reader

Word count: 3.2k (3,203)

○•○•○•○

A sexualsadist serial killer in Wisconsin fulfilling his ‘bdsm’ fantasies by foreplaying with his victims and unfortunately asphyxiating and stabbing them. How fun. 

Reid had been suspiciously uninvolved in this case. Well.. as uninvolved as the most intelligent member of the team could be without ruining the operation. Quick blurbs of information only adding general details to the case; nothing to narrow anything down. No constantly working on the case. When Reid wasn’t needed it’s almost like he wasn’t even there. Oddly distant; his mind was always somewhere else. Something about this case in particular bothered him. It was so unlike the doctor to be so uninterested in a case. Normally, he let the case swallow him whole; engulfing him in his entirety. Mind, body, and soul set on finding the missing pieces and solving the puzzle… but not this one. 

“Something on your mind, Spence?” I ask, sitting down opposite him on the jet; finally able to relax after a long day in the field. 

“Did you know the average person only has sex about two times a week. Things like culture, health, and social status all effect how as well as how often people have sex. But still, just about twice a week on average.” 

“There’s a lot to unpack there, so I’m just gonna say ‘no.’” Spencer chuckles, and I join in. 

“Seriously though. You’ve been so distant lately. Like something about this one in particular has been bothering you.” 

“I mean.. Murder cases aren’t something I often enjoy, so yeah, this whole ordeal has been kind of bothersome.” 

“You know that’s not what I meant, Spence.” 

“It’s just that-” he contemplates for a moment before patting the seat beside him for you to accompany him. You do so, and he leans toward you, so he can whisper. “I really, really hated this case… as you could tell- obviously. I- I’ve been thinking about how the unsub used aspects of foreplay before killing his victims - you know, the tying-up and the asphyxiation stuff - and about the stuff I’ve been kinda interested in.” 

You mull over everything Reid’s just said. It’s not such a longshot surprise to you. I mean with the degradation on the first encounter and the handcuffs the second, you weren’t really taken aback with what he was hinting at. “I’m gonna ask again. What exactly is bothering you, pretty boy?” 

He sighs and closes his eyes; brown knitted together tightly. Whatever he’s about to say is going to come out really fast, and you prepare yourself to catch and process it all. “I’ve been thinking about how I fantasize about choking and degrading and tying up my partner and all that stuff, but with this case - this- this monster using that to inturn kill people - what if that’s me? What if I take things too far? You know my mother’s schizophrenic; what if I’m dangerous?-” 

“Woah, Spence, calm down. There’s nothing wrong with being a li’l’ freaky. Just because someone used things like that to fulfill their murderous fantasies doesn’t make you a bad person. And just because there’s a possibility that you’re carrying schizophrenia, doesn’t automatically make you dangerous; you know that. There's nothing to worry about, Spence. I promise.” You put your hand on his thigh for reassurance. He places his hand a top yours, lightly tapping his fingertips on the back of your hand. 

“Can we try something?” he asks quickly, making and holding eye contact with you for the first time since this conversation started. 

“Doctor Spencer Reid, are you asking to choke me?” I ask fake flabbergasted. “Are you really asking to-” 

“You know what, nevermind. At this point, I’d rather choke myself.” 

“That was a joke, Spencer,” you say rolling your eyes. “But when? Now?” 

“Wow, eager are we?... I was thinking more like when we land and head home for the night. We wouldn’t want to risk the rest of the team waking up to sounds of you being a pathetic mess for me, now would we?” 

“N-No, sir. Of-of course not,” you gulp, taking notice of how his dominant personality is already taking shape before you. 

“Perfect. We land in thirty.” He pats your thigh and turns away from you, returning to the book he was reading prior to. He motions for you to return to your seat across from him, and as you do so, he looks up at you sending a wink your way before he returns to his book indefinitely; allowing the anticipation and excitement to course through your veins for the next thirty minutes. 

The landing comes soon, and the team moves to grab their stuff; eager to get home and relax for the night. You grab your bag and hurry off the plane, dragging along behind emily. 

“What were you and Reid talking about?” Prentiss turns around suddenly, taking you by surprise. 

“I, un, I thought you all were asleep..” 

“Eh, I was in limbo I guess; you know. I just heard him rambling and hoped he was okay.” 

“Oh yeah. He’s fine. Just uh- just something in the book he’s reading.” 

“That’s good,” she smiles and continues off the plane. 

You turn around when you feel a hand drag down the curve of your ass. You glare at Reid and mouth ‘you fucker’ to which he chuckles and holds up his hands in surrender. 

“Hey, y/n/,” Derek says walking over to your desk as you put your files away and zip up your go-bag. “Garcia, Emily, and I are goin’ out tonight. You wanna come?”

“I’d love to.. But I’m exhausted. Maybe next time?” 

“Yeah forsure,” morgan replies before looking at Spencer, silently asking if he’d like to join them. 

“Yeah I’m gonna have to pass, too. I think I’m gonna memorize a book instead.”  

“Whatever, boy genius,” Morgan replies with a laugh. “We’ll be missing you guys.” He fake frowns before heading out with Emily and Garcia. 

“Wait for me!” JJ calls in a sing-song voice as she rushes to catch up with the rest of the group, slinging her arm around Garcia’s shoulders. “To the bar!” she exclaims and they all laugh before finally leaving the office.  

The clicking of a pen catches your attention and becomes even more prominent in your senses the closer it gets to your desk. You look up from your desk to see said pen held in none other than Spencer’s very attractive, fidgety hands. 

“So,” he drags out, tossing the pen onto your desk with a light clank. 

“Is there something you need, Doctor Reid?” you pry, looking at him innocently through your lashes from your seat at your desk. 

“You.” 

“Well,” you begin, standing up out of your chair to stretch. “Lucky for you I just declined the amazing offer to go out, all so I could spend tonight with you.” 

“Mhmm.. Lucky me,” Spencer replies lowly and looks you up and down, drinking you in. Absorbing your beauty. Somehow after two long days of working in the field, you managed to be drop dead gorgeous. Absolute perfection in his eyes. 

“Your place or my place?” you ask, maneuvering from behind your desk to in front of it. 

Spencer looks at his watch. “It’s only.. Ten thirty. I’d say we have time for both.” 

“My house it is,” you chuckle and turn around, earning a firm slap on the ass from Spencer. A shockwave of pleasure runs straight to your center, and you gasp. Closing up your currently case file, you turn back around and your eyes lock with Spencer, who’s smiling back at you innocently. 

You throw on your jacket and toss your go-bag over your shoulder. Spencer laces his fingers with yours as you walk out of the building and to your cars. You feel the excitement swell inside your belly. Racing back to your house to let none other than your colleague ravage you like a wild animal. Desire and lust driven, taking your clothes off followed by his; hands grazing up and down your sides, raising chill bumps in their wake. You can feel it now. His touch. The wetness pooling beneath you, soaking your underwear through. The arousal bumps already beginning to slowly creep down your arms and up over your chest. There was no way in hell you could get home fast enough. 

You finally arrive at the parking garage that accompanies your apartment building; Reid quick in tow, parking right beside you. He clambers out of his car before you get the chance, and he comes to meet you at your car door. The two of you race up tp your apartment, eager to rip each other’s clothes off. 

The door shuts, and it's game over. Spencer's hands travel to the bottom of your shirt, peeling it up over your head and tossing it on the floor. Your back meets the cool surface of the door, goosebumps rippling down your back. Reid's lips attach to yours as his fingertips dance around the bumpy terrain of your back. Your hands travel up and into his hair, tugging ever so slightly making him groan. He fights for dominance over the kiss and you allow him in. As his tongue dances with yours, savoring your taste, his hands soon find solace at the waistband of your pants as he unbuttons them and drops them to the floor with a light thud; exposing your already-soaked panties. 

Spencer's lips roam from their start of your lips to your jaw and down your neck. You catch your breath as he unbuttons your blouse and pushes it off your shoulders and down your arms; dipping his supple lips further into the valley of your breasts. 

A shaky breath escapes your plump lips as he draws your lips nipple into his mouth; excitement flowing to the now erect bud as he switches to the other one, doing the same. He releases your right nipple and comes back up to meet your eyes. His lust and hunger filled expression softens to one of passion. You move your trembling fingers to the too button on his lavender button-up as his lips meet yours once again. 

Soon, all his clothes accompany yours in disarray over the floor, and the two of you are waltzing over to the bed; you landing on it softly with a light thud. 

"Look at you," he says slowly from his position at the foot of the bed; standing, glistening in his pre-sex glory before you. "All laid out on display for me." You subconsciously pull your thighs closer together, trying to conceal your wetness. Slowly, he begins his crawl onto the bed, hovering over you and lowering his lips to your ear. "Don't hide from me." 

Retracting his face, your reach up and gently trail your fingertips over his cheek, drinking all his features of perfection."Spencer." The delicate sound passed through your soft lips as Spencer swiftly moves to encompass them with his. Gnawing on your bottom lip gently with his skillful teeth before pulling away and whispering, "It's Dr. Reid." 

He begins his travels back down to your area, leaving wet, open-mouthed kisses in his wake. He looks up at you through his eyelashes as he pushes your thighs apart; a string of your arousal stretching between the two. Collecting it his forefinger, then lifting it to his mouth, he wraps his lips around the digit relishing in the taste of you before delving into your core. 

You buck your hips, aching for more contact; more friction. Spencer's hands wrap up and around your thighs, holding you to the point where you can't move. 

"Doctor Reid.. please." The sound tumbles quickly from your mouth before you even know what you're asking for. Your head falls to the pillow and your mouth gaped in ecstasy. Your hands fly from their positions at their sides and tangle in Reid's hair, desperately trying to pull him just a little closer to your center. 

Reid groans as you pull at his roots, sending shockwaves of pleasure straight to the depths of you. So close to the edge already, just from Spencer using his tongue. Almost falling over the edge… 

But then he pulls away. 

"Mnnguh, Spencer," you draw out, the pout apparent in your voice. 

"No touching, princess." His face glistens with your slick, and you quiver at the sight momentarily before he collects all your juices onto the back of his hand, making eye contact the entire time.he licks it off; savoring every last drop of your sweetness. 

He clambers out of the bed leaving you frustrated and aching for that release that you so close to seconds ago. You watch as he stands facing away from you - his delicious back on display - as he scans the room. After a moment of deep contemplation, he goes over to your bottom dresser drawer and pulled out a long piece of rope. 

You didn't appreciate how he knew where your stuff was. However, you couldn't blame him. You were profilers after all, and he probably knew more things about you than you knew yourself. 

Spencer smirks at you on his way back over to the bed. You follow him with your eyes as he takes each of your wrists and ties them together and to the headboard. "What's your word?" 

"M-my word?" you stumble over the question as your met face to face with Dr. Reid once again. 

"Your uh safeword. Whenever anything's too much, just say it, and I'll stop." 

Knowing what Spencer was capable of, you weren't sure you'd ever want him to stop. Nonetheless, you pick a word. "Purple." More specifically, the lavender purple button up that Spencer wears. The color that - no matter where you see it - you associate with him. 

"Purple it is," reid replies cheekily, once more descending to your dripping core. 

You writhe beneath him in pleasure and his skillful tongue and fingers bring you to your second orgasm. "D-doctor Reid, ple-please." 

"Please what? Use your words, y/n." 

"God- fuck! Reid, fuck me please. I n-need you-" 

"Look at you," he says as his eyes drink in the sight before him: his co-worker, needy and begging beneath him. "Such a pretty slut. Begging to be fucked by her co-worker. Do you really want me to fuck you y/n? You want my cock deep inside your pretty pussy?" 

You feverishly nod your head, but the answer isn't enough for Spencer. "Say it," he seethes by your ear through gritted teeth with his hand wrapped tightly around your throat, slowing your breath intake. 

"I.. want your cock.. insi..de me, D-doctor R-reid," you struggle to form the plea. 

His hand still around your neck; fingers lightly pressing onto your airways, but now at arms length as he uses his other to trace your folds with the tip of his member.  He slips into you easily, and you involuntarily close your eyes; the pleasure consuming you from the inside out. His thrusts agonizingly slow as he relishes in the feeling of your tight walls wrapped around him. 

"Spencer-" 

"What's my name?" 

"Dr. Reid, please go.. faster. God please- fuck!" 

"Gah, such a needy whore, hm. Taking my cock so well. I bet this is what you were thinking about all day. Isn't it?" He speeds up his pace tenfold, rendering you speechless; reaching the deepest parts of you, almost tossing you over the edge once more. "Mmh, gonna cum for me? Don't hold back, baby. Let go for me." 

And on cue, you release around him, your juices seeping down your thighs and dampening the bedsheets beneath the two of you. 

His pace never slowing down, and his grip on your throat doesn't ease up any either. Your air supply is running low, but you don't care. The sight before you is enough to send you barreling into the abyss of euphoric pleasure. Spencer above you, his sweat-coated torso as arms length and his features contorted in pleasure as he relentlessly pounds into you. 

You admire the god holding himself armslength away from you. The sweat glazing over his torso and dripping fro his forehead. His eyes squinted and mouth agape in pleasure. You clench around him once.more as your fourth orgasm threatens to erupt.

"God fuck." His disgruntled voice coming in as music to your ears. "So fucking tight. You- you gonna cum again, huh? Dirty slut. Cum for me, baby." 

Your forth orgasm rushes over you like a tsunami. Strangled obscenities, moans and groans escape your mouth. You can't take any more. His grip on your throat has barely let up any since he started. And your orgasm count was insane. No one had ever gotten you over four times. The pleasure was more than intense, and you weren't sure how much longer you could last. 

"...purple…" you whisper as your vision goes spotty. 

A look of worry replaces Spencer's previous pleasure-apparent expression. He quickly removes his hand from your throat and pulls out of you. 

"Shit.. shit. Shitshitshit! A-are you okay? Did I hurt you? Fuck. I'm so sorry. Really, I never meant to-" Spencer nervously rambles on as you take a much needed deep, refreshing breath. 

"I know. Spencer, shut up. It's okay. Just please keep going." 

"Y-you sure?" 

You nod feverishly urging him to continue. He re-enters you slowly, filling you all the way up. You arch into him, meeting his agonizingly slow thrusts. "Mmh.. faster, Doctor Reid, please!" 

His pace returns to as it was before. The squelching sound and skin slapping against skin echos through the room once more. One hand white-knuckles the sheets while the other one reaches for Spencer's hand at your side. Grabbing his wrist, you bring his hand back up to your throat, wanting so desperately for him to choke you again. He makes eye contact with you - as if asking permission - as you place his lanky fingers around your neck. Swallowing hard, he applies pressure and your mouth falls open in a lazy smile. 

Your fifth orgasm creeps up on you quickly, but so is Spencer's. "I'm.. so fu- so fucking close," you let out raspily. 

"Me too," he replies, dropping his head. His free hand maneuvers down to run quick circles on your clit, throwing you into convulsions as your fifth orgasm hits you like a truck. 

A few more pumps, and Spencer pulls out of you, cumming on your stomach, moaning your name and mixed profanities. He finally brings his head back up to look at you and undoes your restraints, freeing your wrists. A weary smile accompanies his fucked-out expression. He searches around in the floor, finding something to clean you off with before climbing back into the bed and pulling you up snug with him. 

"That's what I was afraid of you know," he says barely above a whisper. "Hurting you." 

"You didn't hurt me, Spence. I just needed to breathe," you reply with a slight laugh, then placing a kiss to his hand that's draped over.you. 

"You staying?" You ask after a bit of silence. 

"You're a fool if you think I'm going anywhere." He pulls the blankets up over the two of you and pulls you in even tighter; drifting to sleep in no time. 

#cm #criminal minds #spencer reid #spencer reid smut #spencer reid x reader #x reader #self insert #fanfiction #smut #mgg #matther gray gubler #elle greenaway #jennifer jareau #jj jareau #penelope garcia #aaron hotchner #david rossi #jason gideon #derek morgan

[neocity-sarai]

Heartstrings

❂ reader x mark lee (soulmate au, inspired by the film “Weathering With You”)

❂ alerts: fluff, angst, self-blame, mentions of death, drinking, making out, mentions of the dreamies, happy belated birthday to the greatest rapper, laugher, and watermelon-eating fiend ever! this was 40 pages- i’m so sorry

❂ song rec: raining in london by lana condor and anthony de la torre

Soulmates. Weather. Uncontrollable and unpredictable- yet they control your mood and your fate. It’s been this way ever since you’ve been born, even since the beginning of your parents’ time. Your mother and father called it a force of nature- a phenomenon when you’re connected to someone like an invisible string, a syncopation of voices, thoughts, and feelings. Luckily for them, they fell in love when they were just college students and miraculously became soulmates. You always thought it was lucky that they met and were destined to be together from that moment, forming a family by having you in the future. It made you think of the what ifs. What if they didn’t meet or if your mother had someone else when your father was around? What if they loved each other but weren’t soulmates? What if you ceased to exist? It makes you shiver when you think about it. 

During middle school, you vividly remember a collection of memories. Happy ones and unfortunately, not so good ones. Your father had died when you were 14, a drunk driver had recklessly crashed into the family van on the highway when your father was driving to work. Even 4 years after, your mom became extremely frail at heart from the grief. She always had a wine glass in her hand, sobbing every night when she’d enter every room of your family’s home. You were just a kid when she told you she saw your father on every wall and every photograph. She missed him. She told you that she wasn’t able to heal so quickly. Understanding, you rubbed her back on the floor of their bathroom, dumping the remaining liquid out of her smeary glass. She just sobbed into your arms, shakes rupturing her entire body. It made you feel broken and somber seeing your own mother like this. Still, you had to be strong for her. 

The weather outside was cold and dark. Rain crashed down on the window pane like a series of dashes and lines. The clouds seemed angry, lightning flashing like shooting stars and thunder roaring like a legion of lions. It was extreme and powerful, water flooding the streets and your front yard. You were sure the peonies that you had planted with your father were now washed away in broken stems. It seemed like you had an ocean of water outside and inside your mother’s bathroom. The feeling of hopelessness did not stop. That’s when you heard a pin drop. It was a subtle but also a loud sound, something possible to ignore- it was the sound of a realization: your father always loved the rain. No matter how chilly it was, he always enticed you to dance in the rain as he held his arms out, a grin plastered on his face. His smile always stretched from ear to ear. It’s something you never forgot. 

You wiped your mom’s tears with your thumbs, “Mom?”

Your mother coughed, her eyes red and puffy, “Yes, honey?”

“Can I show you something?”

“What is it?”

“Just trust me.”

You took her by the hand, leading her through your dark and empty house. You made way to your backyard door, opening up to your water-logged lawn and a cloudy sky. Everything was a dull grey but was touched with splotches of periwinkle blues, it can’t be all that bad. Letting go of your mother’s hand, you begin to advance into the middle of the grass, spinning and twirling as hard as you can. You spread your arms out before sticking your tongue out to the rain above, droplets cold and fresh. You screamed out to the sky, “I love you dad!”

Your mother watched you with her lips pressed into a thin line, leaning on the pillar of your roof. You motioned to her, “Come on, mom- maybe dad’s up there watching.”

She pauses for a moment, reluctant of what might happen if she indulges in the thought. She decides that there’s nothing to lose. There’s nothing to do but own it anyway. She flies into your arms, your figure supporting her weight. You hear her sigh out when she feels the soft patter on her cheeks. Small water droplets litter her eyelashes, the cold soothing the puffiness of her face. She shuts her eyes for a bit, relishing in the icy, chilling feeling. Both of your shoes are flooded and covered in mud but it doesn’t matter. For the next several hours, you both laugh as loud as you can, running around your backyard. You both lay side by side on the wet grass, the green tufts under your fingers. Your mom turns her head towards you, smiling, “We will be okay.”

You nod, nuzzling your nose into your mom’s shoulder, “I won’t let anything happen to us.”

You hate the world. You hate how unfair it is. You wish you kept your word. That night, your mother had fallen asleep on the couch. Even though you had insisted on running a bath, your mother refused out of exhaustion. That one second has landed you and your mother in the hospital. The doctor had told you that your mother had come down with a severe case of pneumonia- it’s already scarred the lining of her lungs. The damage is irreversible. He’s also told you that your mother isn’t likely to survive due to her past conditions of frail health. You sit in your mother’s hospital room, clutching her hand as she sleeps. You think to yourself: Hasn’t the world taken so much from you already? Haven’t you experienced too many sacrifices? Your mind shifts into shadows. If you hadn’t suggested going out in the rain, would your mother be better? If your mother dies, isn’t it your fault? Soulmates? Do they even exist? You hate the idea of waiting for someone, pining for somebody that might never show up. The world is silly. You cry into her hand until you can’t breath. You let go of it, making your way to the bathroom down the hall. Every doctor and patient that stares at you looks like a blur in your vision and your heart feels like it’s going to explode from it all. You can't stop rewinding your life like a broken movie reel, visions of your mother and you and your dad. 

“Whoa there, slow down-”

A pair of arms catches you and an unfamiliar voice makes you bite your tongue on accident. When you look up, you’re met with the view of a boy- a cute one at that. You’re not in the mood to compliment him, to say anything. Still, through your blurry tears, you are wary of him. He seems like a boy that you could get to know but one that could wear the face of an innocent but actually be the devil in disguise. He’s too pretty to be average. His black locks are the color of ash, his eyes are dark and sparkly with innocence. Oh yes, he has sharp features too. His jaw and his cheeks are carved like seared gems, his eyebrows thin lines below his bangs. He wears a pair of denim jeans and a striped sweater. You take note of the annoyingly polished tag pinned on his sweater: “Mark Lee” it reads.

“Are you alright?” the boy asks again. 

You just stare up at him, tears running down your cheeks like foggy waterfalls. You can’t smell, see, or feel. All you can do is lightly shake your head. Weirdly, he seems like he understands, “Can I help you find someone or a room? I’m a volunteer at this hospital.”

You shake your head again, a little too violently. You sniffle, your voice sounds small, “I just want somewhere that’s away from people.”

Apologetically, Mark nods. “I may be able to help. I just need to change first, yeah?”

“No, I- it’s alright. I don’t-t need help.”

Mark waves his hands around, “It’ll only take a few seconds, I promise.”

Why should you trust a stranger? Your mom always reminded you that your father was a stranger to her at first. Sometimes, you never know where it leads. You check the time on your phone before turning to see the direction of where your mom’s room is. 

“Only a few minutes.”

You let Mark lead you to the bathrooms. He turns to you, frantic and he seems a little nervous, “Give me a few seconds. Don’t leave, okay?”

“Okay.”

When Mark comes out, he’s dressed in scrubs. He wears a grey shirt and matching pants, his tag now on the pocket of it. He looks like one of those hot nurses that helps the pregnant woman who’s screaming her lungs out in Grey’s Anatomy. You don’t say that to him though. He walks with you, “Follow me- uh.. what’s your name?”

“I-It’s y/n.” After passing a series of corridors, Mark unlocks some obscure door that’s a little ways down, shoving his ring of keys into the lock, “I come up here to think, maybe it could help you.”

“Is this even legal? Couldn’t you get fired for letting me up here?”

Mark rubs the back of his neck, his eyes on you, “Well yes, but I think you’re worth it.”

You make a face at him,“Why? I’m a stranger?”

“Not to be all sappy but my supervisor told me that in the medical business, you always have to take chances- this me taking a chance.”

You scoff, “Thank you for your charity, I’ll be going up now.”

Mark’s eyes widen at your brazen attitude, “I’ll wait down here. Just knock on the door when you’re ready to come down.”

When Mark opens the door, all there is a concrete staircase. But when you emerge to the top of the staircase, it’s everything in one place. Your breath hitches in your throat when you see it. It’s a rooftop. The sun sets on the city’s horizon, silver clouds rolling in to threaten waves of rain. Lightning flashes in it again, thunder booming just like that day. You walk around the rooftop, watching how high up you are and how the skyscrapers touch the vastness of the sky. When you turn around, you see something peculiar. A japanese-like shrine stands in your view, decorated with hanging lines of colorful lanterns and photos. Making your way to it, you recognize that the photos must be of victims that have died at the hospital. Flowers and bells hang from the red-painted posts. Under the arch, sits a small fountain that’s been collecting rain. It looks so old, covered in moss and grime. Though, if you peer hard enough, there are names inscribed into the stone. You step forward under the arch of the shrine, the bells ringing in the wind. But, when you do, it doesn't feel normal. It almost feels like all of your emotions and senses have been amplified. Somehow, you can’t hear anything. You can’t hear the twinkle of the bells or any wind. When you stare down at the fountain, you don’t believe it when you see water droplets floating upwards. You use your finger to touch the droplets, the small spheres floating into the sky in a stream. Gravity doesn’t work like this, does it? You try to grab the water droplets, they still continue to slip out of your hands and into the air above. How is this possible?

You dip your finger into the rain water that sits in the stone bowl, ripples forming. Something shocks your veins like electricity, it makes you clutch your heart through your chest. What was that? You run out from under the archway, suspicious of it all. Is it some sort of prank machine? Either way, you want to get back to your mother. You run out from under the archway, one prayer couldn’t hurt. It's silly, you don’t go to church much. Still, you clasp your hand together and you pray as hard as you can. You pray you can walk in the sun with your mom again, that your father is happy, and for everything you’ve ever known.

Opening your eyes, you run back down to the staircase before swinging the door open. You spot Mark tripping, his legs are a tangled mess, “Whoa- what the-”

You eye him suspiciously, “Why’d you lean against the door? I was clearly going to open it..”

“I thought you were going to knock! You just caught me off-guard is all.”

Despite having just met, Mark nudges you, “So, how was it?”

You eye him again, wary of him, “I’ll give you credit for the view- it was beautiful. I wanted to ask though, what was that shrine up there?”

Mark stops walking, cocking his eyebrow up, “What? There was a shrine?”

You stop walking as well, “The big red archway, fountain in the center? Colorful lanterns and photos? Can’t miss it unless you’re blind?”

Mark laughs nervously, his nose scrunching in mock-pain, “My eye-sight isn’t the greatest so..”

“There’s no way you could have missed it, I literally saw it the moment I got up there.”

“Maybe it’s new- I was just there last week and didn’t see anything like that. Maybe you need to check your eyes?”

“I have 20/20 vision, thank you very much.”

Mark raises his hands up in mock-surrender, “Yes sir- I mean, mam’’”

By the time you make it back to the hallway where you had run into Mark, you turn to him, “Well, this has been interesting. Goodbye, stranger.”

Mark giggles, “You know my name though- I know yours. Are we really strangers still?”

“Yes. We met like 10 minutes ago.”

You notice the pink blush that creeps onto Mark’s cheeks, his words coming out it a stuttering ramble, “I-I’d really l-like to ask-”

Before Mark can ask you his question, probably for your number, you're interrupted by your mother’s nurse running out to you both, “Y/n! I’ve been looking for you, it’s your mother. You need to come now.” Her facial expression does not look good.

You nod, “Bye Mark, thanks for uh- your time.”

Mark opens his mouth, “Y-yeah, no problem, uh- y/n, yeah- I’ll see you around?”

You follow the nurse, “Maybe.”

Later that night, your mom had passed away. And two years later, you had blamed yourself for it every single day. Not only did your prayer not work, your mind was absent of the boy who helped you onto the roof. You couldn’t didn’t want to even remember his name or why you had run into him.

2 years later 

>I wonder if it’s raining in London

I wonder if the moon looks the same where you are

Still think about the sound of you humming

Singing to nothing in your car

Ever since your mom passed away, everything changed. You started to live with your aunt in her cottage home that was little ways out of the city. She had a rose garden out front, white and red bushes overgrown on the picket fence. Your aunt promised to invest in your parents’ property but thought it’d be good for you to spend the summer at the cottage. You could classify it as a time of healing, though most nights were spent thinking about your parents. You would spend the summer helping your aunt cook meals, plant flowers, and play with her beagle named Mosby in the wheat fields. At least, you weren’t entirely alone.

Eventually, it was time for you to apply for universities- a possibility that wasn’t even your orbit at all. Even so, strange things kept happening. Even when it was raining, no matter where you stepped- the weather changed in an almost too quick of an instant. If you wanted it to be sunny, the moment you stepped outside, the rays would emerge out of the obsidian clouds. If you wanted snow to play in with Mosby, it would snow even in the late June summers. It was odd, like the weather gods were at your beckon and call. This phenomenon only happened after that day you touched the fountain’s water, only after you walked under the archway of the shrine. You decided that there was no use fighting it. Of course, you were bewildered with your newfound power- though after a while, there was nothing to do but embrace it. There was something that your mother and father taught you since you were a child: help those who could be helped. Going around the city for errands, you observed people. For instance, a woman was telling her friend in the grocery store how disappointing that it would be raining during her baby’s 1st birthday. After collecting your items, you walked outside, clasping your hands together. You said in your mind, “Let us have sunshine for today.”

And of course, the weather forecast had announced that there would suddenly be no chance of rain. You could imagine the woman’s joy. You saw a young girl- about the same age as you running past you on the street as she tripped over her heels and fumbled in her tight office outfit, grumbling at how hard the rain was coming down. You wished for sunshine for her too. It was like the gods gave you a gift and it was your duty to use it for good- it’s what your parents would have wanted. Towards the end of the 2nd year, you told yourself that you wanted a change in scenery. It was time to do something worthwhile for yourself. Luckily, you got into the university of your choice and were on your way to moving to campus. There’s this erratic beating in your chest. Is it excitement? Anxiety? Fear? Probably a mix of all 3. As every coming of age movie, it’s all the same. Your aunt had helped you move into your dorm room, reassuring that you could come home or to the cottage whenever you wished. Thanking her, you press a kiss to her cheek before rearranging your boxes of belongings. Perhaps, this was the start of a new chapter. 

First day of class

First period is english 101. The university looks nice, it’s very castle-like with high-rising towers and turrets made of carved stone. Students sit in the courtyards in their friend circles, coffees in their hands as they sit under the large juniper trees. Though it is a sunny day, the forecast shows that heavy rains will stir into a monsoon. You keep note of that. Walking into the lecture hall, you take a seat towards the middle row- not too close to be picked on but not too far where you can’t hear. The professor is some old guy who’s been studying philosophy for 3000 years and you hope that you don't fall asleep before he’s done. You rest your chin in your hand, twirling your pencil on top of the desk surface. Suddenly, the entrance door bursts open with a loud noise, causing the hundreds of the students in the room to turn their heads. A boy stands there, he drops his books recklessly. The professor pauses his lecture to lower his glasses, “Mr. Lee? You’re tardy, son.”

The boy scratches the back of his neck, doe eyes pointed at the man, “Sorry Professor Norman, the rain held me up.”

“Go take a seat.”

You hear the girls behind you giggle from the sight. All you knew was that he looked oddly familiar to you. The boy climbs the stairs, standing on his tiptoes to look for an empty seat. When he spots one, a grin is plastered on his face as he makes his way nearer and nearer to you. You realize that there’s an empty seat right next to you. It’s painfully embarrassing as you watch the boy fumble his way behind other students, murmuring I’m sorrys and pardon mes. One of his notebooks falls out of his worn down jansport backpack, a girl batting her eyelashes when she hands it back to him. Smiling charming at her, he whispers, “Thanks for that.”

Finally, after 4 years, the boy manages to make it next to you. You scoff when he accidentally swings his backpack into the side of your arm, “Oh god, I’m so sorry- “

You nod curtly, “You’re fine.”

Now that you can get a closer look at him, you feel sweat bead up on your back when you realize where you’ve seen him. It’s that boy- the one the night your mom died. He reaches his hand out, “Hi there, my name’s Mark. Mark Lee.”

You stare at him for a bit before reluctantly taking his hand, “Y/n.”

As much as you don’t want to admit, Mark looks as endearing as ever. His black  locks are still the same, eyes shining from the dim lighting. He smells of the sweet rain, water droplets wetting his hair and his shoulders. 

>I wonder if you look any different

And would I see the years that have passed on your eyes?

There’s still a little part of me missing

I no longer recognize

Mark turns to you, his eyebrow quirked when he says your name on his tongue, “Have we met before? You seem familiar?”

You shake your head, “I don’t know anyone by the name of Mark so, I guess you’re the first?” Why did you lie to him?

Mark nods, “Ah, I see.”

Mark ruffles the water out of his hair, opening his soaked notebook, “Ah shit, the rain got in my backpack.”

You can’t help but chuckle a little, “I can lend you some of mine?”

Mark’s eyes widen at you, you swear you can see a faint blush creeping on his cheeks, “R-really? I swear I’ll pay you back.”

“No need, here.” You proceed to tear some sheets out for Mark. His presence is kind of comforting- like some childhood friend. Wait, what? No- you barely know him. 

You and Mark listen to the rest of the lecture in silence. When it’s time to go, he zips up his backpack before turning to you. He’s extremely red now. He bites his bottom lip, “Hey, I um, I was wondering if we could exchange numbers? I still want to pay you back for the paper and you’re new right? If you’re not, don’t worry about it but I don’t know, I just in case you needed me-ah, never mi-”

Before Mark can turn away, you look at him, “I’d like that. I could use a friend- being a newbie and everything.”

With that, Mark lights up, “Wait, really?”

“Sure.” You hand your phone to him, “Pick a good emoji.”

Mark’s fingers fumble with your phone, catching it in time before almost dropping it. He chuckles nervously, “Don’t worry, I got it-”

You smile, you’re sure your cheeks hurt from it. 

“There you go Mark, you have my number now.”

“Cool. Good. Yeah.”

With that you wave him a curt goodbye, “See you around?”

Mark smiles back at you, teeth gleaming white in between his lips, “Yeah y/n, see you around.”

With that, you go home to your dorm room. When you look out the window before sleeping, you count how many droplets sit on the windowpane. The stormy skies angrily from swirls of obsidian and murky lavenders. You hope that Mark won’t be caught in the rain again tomorrow.

In class the next day, your professor assigns group projects during lecture. Because you happened to sit next to Mark, you were paired up together. You both didn’t mind though. Mark pulls out his notebook and fountain pen, yanking the cap off with his teeth, “So, I wanted to ask if you wanted to go over the project during lunch?” 

You nod at him, “That works for me.”

When class is over, you follow Mark to the university’s cafeteria. It’s teeming with students and professors, lunch hour is always chaotic. Mark points at an empty table by the window, “How about over there?”

Before you can answer him, many voices call Mark’s name. He swivels around to see a group of boys motioning him over to their table. He glances at them before waving them off in refusal. You nudge him slightly, “We can go say hi if you want, I don’t mind.”

Mark runs a hand through his hair, making it stick up in some parts, “Are you sure? I don’t want to take too much of your time?”

“Let’s go, your friends seem nice.”

Mark scoffs, “Please, they’re hardly my friends.”

When you both make your way to your table, you’re greeted by a series of hoots and hollers. Mark introduces each of them. He points at a taller boy, brunette, and as handsome as hollywood’s greatest movie stars, “This is Jeno.”

Jeno smiles at you, his eyes crinkling into crescent moons. You’re sure your heart made flips at that. The loudest boy is named Haechan, jostling Mark by squeezing his thigh jokingly, “Is this your girlfriend?” he asks. You and Mark simultaneously shake your heads, refusing Haechan’s teasing. The next is Renjun, he seems more stoic than the rest. Similar to him, a girl whose hair is the color of burgundy plums sits beside him. Freckles dot her face, contrasted to the blueness of her eyes- you have to admit, she’s very pretty. Still, Mark introduces her as Lana and when you introduce yourself, it’s like daggers are being shot through her eyes. You suspect it has to do with Mark being next to another girl. When you’re finished introducing yourself to everyone, Haechan lets out a burst of laughter, “Y/n’s so sweet, if you don’t take her then I will!” as he slaps Jeno’s shoulder, Jeno rolls his eyes at the boy. Mark stares him down, grabbing your hand, “Y/n and I have a project to work on, we’ll be going now.”

You shout out a quick nice to meet you back to them, your eyes shifting to Mark’s fingers around your wrist. You don’t say anything as you let him drag you to the library- your hand becoming a little clammy. You hope he doesn’t notice it.

Sitting at some empty table near the shelves, he turns back to you, “Sorry about that back there. They’re rambunctious. They must’ve made you uncomfortable right?”

You smile at him, shaking your head, “Not at all really, they seem fun. You’re very lucky.”

Mark’s mouth makes an ‘o’ shape, his eyes widening. You gesture to his fingers, “Mark, you’re still holding me?”

In a flash, Mark drops your hand, his palm flying to his mouth, “Oh god- I’m sorry, I didn’t even realize-”

You place your hands on his shoulders, “Mark. It’s okay. You’re okay.”

He nods slowly, trying to fight the blush that creeps up his neck and his cheeks. He shakes it off, you realize how endearing he is. He sits down, opening up his philosophy books, “So, what should we do for the project?”

You twirl your pen in your hand, “Well, Professor’s prompt was we have to discover the secret of life right? What does that even mean?”

Mark knits his brows together, pouting his lips, “Good question. I think that’s what the assignment is- discovering it for ourselves?”

“How do we do that?”

“Let’s start making a bullet list. I do that when I’m weighing options.”

Mark starts to scribble on his notebook. “What does life mean to you?”

You look at him, your eyes instantly catching his. You have to look away. Life. Weather. Soulmates. Aspects of your world that you can’t fully understand. Your mouth feels dry. You think back to your parents, moments that you play in the dark by yourself, the things that you would do and experience but can’t. The words kind of tumble out from your lips, “Mark, do you believe in soulmates?”

Mark freezes. He sits in silence for a few seconds. He bites his lower lip, “It’s difficult to say. I mean, my parents are soulmates so I’ve just grown up thinking that I’ll have my own one day? But no, I don’t have anyone.”

You nod. You kind of mumble, “Yeah, I don’t have anyone either. I almost don’t want to believe in them.”

“Is there a reason why?”

“Not really, I just don’t get how two people can randomly become synched.” No, it’s because you’re afraid of love. You’re afraid of what will happen if you love someone so hard and they leave. 

“Ah, I see.”

You clear your throat, “Anyways, back to the prompt. What does life mean to you?”

“I think it could be a variety of things, my family, my friends, school? But I’m assuming that Professor doesn’t want generic answers. He said the creative category weighs the most points.”

And then it clicks in your head. Your gift- it’s what ties you back to your mom and your dad, seeing people happy when you are able to bend the weather to your will. You’ve never told anyone before. You thought people would look at you weird if you told them. Should you tell Mark?

Mark scrolls through his phone, long eyelashes accentuating the hood of his eyes. His lips pursed when he presses his fingers to the screen, “Hey- sorry, this is off-topic but what do you think is going on with the weather? Like one day it’s a hurricane and then sunny the next. Everyone’s talking about it on Twitter.”

“Mark, can I show you something?”

Mark snaps his head up, “Is everything okay?”

You smile, “Just trust me.”

You hand him his belongings as he messily shoves them into his backpack, “Where are we going?”

“Just don’t freak out.”

Mark makes a face at you, “When you say that it makes me freak out.”

You lead Mark to the roof terrace of the university, climbing the stairs in the pouring rain. People below run under the canopies as they use their books to avoid the rain. Mark gulps, “You know, I’m not the best with heights-”

You plant your feet on the ground, clasping your hands together. In your head, you repeat the words like a mantra, “I want sunshine today, let the heavens be sunny upon us.”

And like instant magic, glowing white rays start to sear the blackened clouds, the rain starting to cease. In the middle of the dark ocean above, patches of deep blue begin to emerge. Mark runs to the terrace railing, “Holy shit- are you doing that?”

When the rain is completely dissipated, you glance at Mark who’s staring at you with utter awe in his eyes, “I’m going crazy right? Is this some weird trip or something?” Mark’s voice cracks, his fingers clenching the base of his throat. 

You shake your head, “No, this is my gift. You’re the only person who knows about it.”

“You have the power to make it stop raining?”

“Not only that, but all weather forms. Whenever I pray.”

Mark clasps his hands together too, closing his eyes as he murmurs types of weather, “How come it’s not working for me? I go to church all the time with my family.”

You sock his arm, “No silly, it’s not normal for everyone. Just me.”

Mark lets out an elongated whoa, “How long have you had this gift?”

Suddenly, your throat turns hoarse, “Since my mom died.”

He stammers, his words coming out in a  trail of apologies, “I’m so sorry, I didn't know- I-”

“It was a long time ago. Still, I think I was given this gift to carry on my parents’ legacy, their connection of being soulmates even.”

Mark nods quietly. “That’s so cool. I’ve never met a weather girl before.”

You laugh at his nickname, “Weather girl huh? Has a nice ring to it.”

“I’ll change that to your contact name, you can bet on that.”

“I don’t doubt it.”

“So, what do you do with your gift? How do you know when to change weather patterns?”

“That’s the thing. I don’t. When I walk around and I see or hear that someone need’s weather for a specific day, I try to help them out. I thought I’d try to do something good.”

Mark runs his fingers over his hair, “That’s amazing. That’s so admirable of you to do that.”

“It’s what my parents would have wanted. I do it for them too.”

Mark stands up straight, his finger pointing at you. It looks as if a light bulb is going off, “Say- I have an idea for our project. What if we started a business?”

“What do you mean by that?”

“Hear me out- we can call it Weather Girl Service. We can talk about money management and leadership skills in life, because that’s what adults do right? Pay taxes and bills?”

You laugh at his silly idea, “But why Weather Girl Service?”

Mark hops excitedly up and down, “We can make job postings in the city and have people pay us by the hour if you change the weather to fit their occasion! We’d be rich by the end of it! But wait- only if you agree, I don’t want to make you do something like that if you don’t want to.”

Shrugging your shoulders, you smile at him, “I’m up for it if you are. I don’t mind.”

“Really?! Are you sure?!” Mark looks like an overly-excited school boy, his backpack jumbled because of how fast he’s jumping. He scrunches his nose, fistpumping the air, “We’re so getting an A on this.”

“Yes, I sure hope so!”

With that, you and Mark plan to meet at your dorm room the next day to get started on the project. He texts you later that night, “3 pm sharp right?”

“Yes sir, 3p m- my room.”

“Alrighty, see you tomorrow!”

When 3 pm comes, Mark stands at your door, his hands full with a box of materials and supplies. 

You giggle, “You sure got reinforcements.”

“I have to be prepared!”

For the next several hours, you and Mark spend time designing different posters and infographics to upload online and staple to bulletin boards. Mark’s got a mark cap in his mouth, brows knit in concentration as he writes on his notebook.

Mark snaps his fingers together, “How about this: Weather girl at your service, you call and we’ll be there to help you get the memories that you want- birthdays, grad parties, work events, you name it! Submit your info to this number here!”

You flash him a thumbs up, “It’s perfect. I love it.”

All day you and Mark run around the city- posting your posters and fliers from anywhere you can find. You post them on benches, town hall bulletin boards, and the street lamps that line the sidewalk. And the whole time, you never take your eyes off Mark’s wide smile and sparkling eyes. You don’t catch that whenever you’re turned away, Mark glances at you to admire your features, your hair, and everything in between. Around 6pm, you walk beside Mark on one of the bridges that extends over the river. The sun sets in the horizon, colors of sharp marigolds and blush pinks paint the sky above. There was no way that you and Mark were going to run around the city in rain. Sighing out, you watch the sun cast a faint glow on Mark’s cheeks and the slender of his nose, making him out to be a painting that belongs in the museum. It’s almost like if you took a paintbrush that you could paint him yourself just to memorize it.

Mark fists the air in victory, “We had a very productive day today, don’t you think?”

You nod, “Of course. I don’t think anyone can resist our offer.” 

“Thanks for doing this with me.”

You’re suddenly caught off guard by Mark’s gratitude, though it is not too out of character. “I had fun today with you.”

Mark smiles at the ground, twirling when he walks like he’s skipping to the beat of his favorite song. You hear him mumble a cute, “Me too.”

For the rest of the way, Mark walks you back home to your dorm room. Even though you told him you were fine, he still insisted. 

“Well, this is me.” you say.

Mark scratches his nape, readjusting the strap of his backpack, “I’ll see you tomorrow then. The grand opening.”

You nod, “Yes, bright and early.”

You turn away from him as he watches you enter your building. You instantly wish that you could’ve placed a hasty peck to his cheek. It seemed irresistible in the moment. Though, you remind yourself to not get too comfortable. Little did you know that Mark spent the whole night thinking about you.

>But if I had met you today

Would I have loved you the same?

And if I had known it would take

Ten years and twenty-two days to stop loving you

Stop loving you, no

First day of business

“Mark, is this yours?”

Mark sits in the driver’s seat of his sunny yellow van- the kind that you’d make deliveries in. It looks bright under the gloomy, rainy skies.  He honks his horn obnoxiously once and twice as he scrunches his eyes together before saying, “Get in loser, we’re going shopping!”

Laughing, you launch yourself into the seat before Mark takes off with a faster speed. You shout, “If I die in a car accident today, half of the money we make goes to my aunt okay?”

Mark playfully rolls his eyes, “Stop it y/n, I’m the best driver in town!”

“Yeah, right-”

The first stop happens to be one of Mark’s dad’s friends. He requested that he was going to surprise his wife with an anniversary dinner and needed sunshine for that specific hour: Saturday, 6pm. When you arrived at the pretty farm home, the man greeted Mark instantly when you got out of the van. He shook your hand, eyes anticipating, “Is it true? You can really change the weather?”

You smile at him, “You need to see it to believe it and I’m here to deliver.”

The man puts his hand on Mark’s shoulder, “Here’s the compensation for your work today. I have to ask one favor of you.”

Mark quirks his eyebrow up, handing the wad of cash to you, “What’s that?”

“My wife and I want some private time, we’ve paid you extra so that you can watch our daughter?”

Mark’s jaw drops, “Watch your daughter? As in baby sit?”

“Yes, that’s right. We will give as much as you need.”

Mark runs a hand through his hair, his eyes widened, “I don’t think-”

Before Mark can answer, you cut in, “We’d love to. What time does she need to be back?”

“8 pm.”

“Deal.”

Mark stands next to you, his face utterly flabbergasted from your confidence of the deal. You can tell that he’s freaking out inside. He’s panicking and it shows on his face. 

“Mari, please come out! One second-”

Through the front door, the man guides his 7 year old daughter to you both. And you’re sure that your heart does flips when you see her. She’s dressed in a princess dress, her eyes fluttering from sleep. She’s the spitting image of her father. She drags a blue blanket in one hand, rubbing her green eyes, “Daddy?”

Her dad motions to you and Mark, “You’ll be hanging out with Mark and y/n today. Mommy and I will be back in a few hours.”

“Okay..”

The man tells you about everything you need to know, when Mari needs to go to the bathroom, what she likes to eat, and every little thing she likes to do. 

“I think we’re all set now, any questions?”

You shake your head, “No sir, we’ll have her back by 8.”

He nods at you, “Good, see you both later.”

With that, Mari is left in yours and Mark’s hands. You crouch down to her level, waving at her lightly, “Hi Mari, my name’s y/n. Me and Mark will take you out today okay?”

The girl slowly blinks, clutching her blue blanket even tighter, “Are you my mommy for today?”

How have you not exploded from her adorableness yet? “Yes, just for a little bit until your real mommy comes back.”

She reaches up to cling to Mark’s pant leg, plopping down to sit on his shoe, “And you’re my daddy today?”

Mark glances down at her and back to you. He squeezes his eyes in mock pain, running his hand over his hair, “Sure, I’m your daddy.”

You nudge him, whispering, “She’s a kid, try to be nice.”

“Yeah, yeah.”

When you hop back in the van, you have Mari sit in your lap as you place the seatbelt over her body, making sure she is secure. Mark revs up the engine, driving slowly to the next location of requests. It doesn’t take long for Mari to fall asleep on your chest, you coo at her peaceful face. 

“I’m not good with kids- what did we get ourselves into?”

“Don’t be such a worry-wart! She’s so cute, look at her!”

“Can’t, I’m driving.”

“Don’t be grumpy Mark, you’ll have a family with your soulmate one day.”

“I thought you didn’t believe in soulmates.”

“Agh- you know what I mean.”

“Will she be okay when we’re working? We have 2 more requests to do.��

“She’ll be fine, relax.”

The next destination you arrive at is a farmer’s market at the heart of downtown. When Mark parks the car, you wake Mari, “Mari? Mark and I have to work so you just stick with me okay?”

Mari mumbles a disoriented reply, her cheek still resting on your shoulder. You arrive at a fruit stand where an older woman approaches you, “Mark and y/n?”

Mark smiles at her, “That’s us- you called the Weather Girl Delivery Service?”

“Yes. The other farmers didn’t want to believe me but I swear, I wanted to take a chance with this. As you can see, we can’t have our market with all this constant flooding and rain. It’s like the weather’s been on steroids.”

Mark flashes her with a thumbs up, “That’s why we’re here, we’ll get to work right away.”

“Y/n?”

You step forward to Mark, “You’ll have to hold her.”

Mark’s eyes widen with surprise, “Uh, okay.”

He cradles sleeping Mari so awkwardly, you have to guide his hands to support her bottom, “Mark, you have to hold her up or she’ll slip.”

Mark fumbles with his hands before adjusting her so her chin is on his shoulder, “I got her, don’t worry.”

You nod before making your way to the center of the market. Clasping your hands together once more, you pray that the sunshine will blow away the cyclone of the shadows and falling rains. Miraculously, it does. When you turn around, the woman stands next to Mark in awe spreading her arms out in glee, “It works! Haha! Take that you old goons!”

The rest of the farmers stand under the shade of the fruit stand, grumbling at the woman’s victory. You give her a hug once she sends you off with a wad of cash and three freshly squeezed juices for all three of you. When you settle back into the car, Mari still stays rested on your lap.

“See, that wasn’t so bad.”

Mark rolls his eyes, a smirk plastered on his lips, “Okay, you win this time.”

“By the way, is this your first time holding a child?”

Mark laughs, “Don’t even patronize me right now.”

The third destination is a bit more serene. You arrive at an elderly woman’s home, her home similar to that of your aunt’s cottage. It’s decorated with wood and bamboo shoots, bells and windchimes hang from the roof shingles. Knocking on the door, the woman greets you. She’s an elderly Japanese woman, hair tied into a loose bun as she motions you to come inside with her cane, “Come in, come in.”

You both slip off your shoes, Mari awake as if sleep was a distant memory. The woman leads you to her dining room, pots of orchids and perilla leaves grow all over the counters and sink. There’s colorful painted murals of people and sceneries on the walls, smeared from the passing of time. History moves within the walls in a series of blurred colors. 

“Something to drink, kids?”

You and Mark decline, prompting Mari to mumble, “I’m thirsty.”

You hear the rumbling noise from Mari’s stomach, it is around lunch time. You ask for the woman for a glass of water but she waves you off with a smile. Instead, she cuts a slice of peach pie for Mari, the crust smells of cinnamon and nutmeg. She passes a pitcher of lemonade to you and Mark, sucking on lemon slices as she works.

Mark sits next to you on the bench by the dining table, “Thank you for the hospitality mam’, there’s no need to pay us for your request.”

You smile at Mark’s words, not wanting to take from the elderly woman either. When she’s done putting away the pie, she meanders over to you slowly as she pats down Mari’s silky black hair, “You kids are awfully young to have a child.”

Mark chokes on his tea, sputtering the liquid into his glass. It sends him into a coughing fit, “S-she isn’t our child- we’re just watching her for the day.”

You jokingly hit Mark’s back to get him to stop choking, “Oh no, we’re not married either- we’re just friends.”

The woman raises her brow like she knows some unspoken secret, “Friends?”

You and Mark glance at each other before awkwardly averting eyes. Even Mari talks with her mouthful of pie, “They’re my mommy and daddy for today!”

Mark mutters, “I’m not your real dad..”

The elderly woman is amused, her smile creating creases on her cheeks and on her temples, “Are you two at least soulmates?”

This time, you answer her almost too hastily, “No! We’re only classmates- friends- that’s all.”

Mark looks at you, the sparkle in his eyes dimming a bit. Was that disappointment? Hurt? His shoulders are drooping and his lips are pressed into a thin line. Did you say something wrong? It was a fact though, you and Mark weren’t soulmates.

You try to brush it off. The woman leans on her cane, “I need you kids for your strength. I would do it myself but as you can see, I’m not as young as I used to be. Help me move the orchids out back.”

Mark makes his way to the kitchen sink, roots overgrown on the counter top. You move Mari off your lap before turning to the elderly woman, “Could you please watch her?”

The elderly woman chuckles, “Sure, I have enough pie to keep her distracted.”

You politely thank her, making your way over to where Mark is putting the orchids into glass vases. He doesn’t say a word. You nudge him with your elbow a bit, “Is everything okay?”

His eyes are trained on his busied hands, “Mhm.”

“Mark, you don’t seem okay.”

“Nope, everything’s good y/n. Are you alright?”

“Well yeah, but..”

Mark bites his lower lip, “Good.”

He grabs both vases in his hands before walking over to the sliding door, leaving you alone with your thoughts. He definitely wasn’t okay, you don’t want to push him any further. Instead, you pot the rest of the succulents and flowers in the kitchen.

“You know, that boy likes you.”

You turn around to see Mari snuggling up to the elderly woman, her dimples popping out from smiling. 

“Mark? No, we’re just partners for a school project.”

“That may be true but I’ve lived a long time, I know what love looks like. After all, I had a soulmate too.”

You lean against the edge of the counter, picking off the stray leaves off stems, “Let me guess- they left?”

“To the afterlife if that’s what you’re referring to.”

You stay silent. You’re not sure what to say. 

“Child, have you been hurt in the past?”

You snap your head up at her, setting the flowers down, “Why do you ask that?”

She clicks her tongue, “Being ignorant to feelings doesn’t count as being oblivious. Don’t let your past rip you of your opportunities.”

Your eyes shift to Mark standing outside, he sticks his hand out in the rain, water droplets crashing against his palm. 

“With all due respect, you don’t know what I’ve been through.”

“Shoot it at me. Guilt? Sadness? Grief? You forget I’m old. I’ve seen things.”

Mari pokes her arm, playing with the ribbon on the woman’s sleeve, “Can I have more pie?”

The woman frowns down at her, “You’ll be sick if you eat so much pie, wait for dinner.”

Mari huffs in response, brows furrowed in annoyance. 

“My point is, y/n, you have to learn to accept outcomes and heal. Don’t be stuck on your mistakes and your missed trials. Learn and grow from them. Ask yourself of purpose. Why are you doing this project? Why with that boy?”

Before you can answer her, you’re about to say it’s for the grade, maybe for the extra money. Deep down, you know that it isn’t that. You turn to look at Mark outside. He’s standing in the middle of the woman’s Japanese garden, eyes shut under the falling rain. And you swear, you’ve never seen anyone who’s any more beautiful. He looks so peaceful standing there, hair becoming wet from it. It reminds you of that day. 

She continues, “In my time, I’d normally enjoy the rain. But, my flowers are dying so I need you to bring the sun for today. I haven’t felt that ever since the city’s been raining non-stop.”

You nod, you know what you must do. You stroll over to the sliding door, opening it up to the garden. You approach Mark in the middle of the grass, watching him as he sticks his tongue out. When he opens his eyes, he jumps from being startled by you, “Whoa, how long have you been standing there?”

“Not long, I just wanted you to enjoy the rain about longer before I- you know.”

“Oh, right, go ahead.”

You do what you do best.The old woman steps onto her porch, Mari flying past her to catch up with you and Mark. You savor the coldness, the breeze, and the scents of drenched flowers. You want to try something new, something that you can see and feel all in one moment. In our head, you visualize a million colors. You think about the walls of the elderly woman’s home and the sunset glow on Mark’s face, your mother’s familiar smile. You think about Mari’s laugh and all the people you’ve made happy today. It paints tangerine oranges and lavender streaks, explosions of electric blues and sparkling greens. Clasping your hands together, you wish on the stars to send your vision into the sky. When you open your eyes, Mark’s holding Mari in his arms as her mouth falls open from the view. It worked. The sky above your heads has become an ocean of color strokes, clouds and stars swirling together. It’s the best configuration you’ve ever made. It looks like a real-life kaleidoscope. 

“Holy shi-”

Mark stops his words when he feels Mari’s small finger poking his cheek, “Look at what y/n made!”

You smile, pressing your hand to Mari’s head, “I made it for you! Do you like it?”

Mari squeals, “ Yes! Yes! Daddy, lift me higher!”

Your eyes fall on Mark’s. He gives you a knowing smile, eyes soft with adoration and glittering under the shooting stars. He lifts Mari onto his shoulders, “Hang on tight!”

She yelps, placing her hands on his head, “I want to catch the stars!”

Mark begins to spin around lightly, making airplane noises from his mouth. You laugh at the sight, turning to look back at the elderly woman. She winks at you, leaning on the pillar of her makeshift watering station for her succulents. After playing around under the cosmos, you finally greet the elderly woman goodbye, thanking her for her advice. Though you and Mark refuse, she shoves her cash into your hands, telling Mark to treat you- she says you're both welcome to her home anytime. Afterwards, you and Mark drop Mari at home as promised. You feel your heart swell when Mari starts to cry, Mark pressing a kiss to her cheek before setting her into her father’s arms. He assures her that you and Mark will come to visit sometime, inviting you both to dinner in the future. Of course you agree. 

Mark drives you back to campus, walking you to your doorstep as always. He pulls out the money, splitting it evenly in half before handing it to you, “Your share as promised of course.”

You nod, taking the cash from him, “You know, doing this job- money is a bonus but I’m not doing it for that.”

Mark chuckles, his hands in his denim pockets, “I’m glad we can make people happy.”

A silent beat. “You know, uh, about earlier- I didn’t mean to come off weird. I think I was just in my head about something, I’m not sure.”

You’re not usually someone who makes the first move. The first leap. Mark doesn’t even have the slightest clue about what he’s doing to you, how he makes you feel. Do you like him? You’re almost certain of the feelings. You step forward, your nose almost brushed against his chest. Gingerly and slowly, your fingers find Mark’s hand, it makes him gulp from the sudden contact. His eyes are widened in confusion and you think he’s forgotten how to breathe. Looking up at him, you say, “It’s fun doing this with you- I’d rather not do it with anyone else.”

Mark nods but doesn’t say anything. His hands are shaking. You can hear the erratic beating in his chest and it takes every bone in his body not to grab your face and kiss you right on the spot. When he doesn’t say anything, maybe you think that you’ve scared him. Maybe he doesn’t feel the same way. You step back a bit, the air becoming less tense, “I’ll see you tomorrow okay?”

“Okay, yeah.”

Mark opens his mouth to say something more but you’ve already shut the door. In Mark’s head, he’s let out a string of curses. Why didn’t he do something? Why didn’t he say something? Why is he such a coward? He asks himself. Is it the right time? What if you don’t feel the same way?”

All night, he beats himself up for it, tossing and turning in his bed. 

The next couple months in your university fly by. Ever since that night, you and Mark continued as if nothing ever happened. One thing that did change was a gloomy, ominous blanket over the city- it almost felt apocalyptic in a sense. Weather forecasters predicted that with such heavy and continuous rains- the flooding, the city would be underwater in the next coming year. There might be an evacuation.

Still, you took it upon yourself to savor the time you would have left in the city. One of the things on your list was you wanted to get to know Mark’s world better. You know that he can’t eat dairy, he absolutely hates the texture of yogurt and he’s able to eat watermelon flavoring by the shot. It’s gross but it sounds like him. You and Mark eat at all your favorite lunch spots, watch comedies in the theaters, and hang out in each other's rooms. The business is going well, more and more people submit their requests for sunny days and sunsets, sometimes purposeful rain to play in. Mark drives in his sunny yellow van, sticking your hand out the window as your favorite songs blare from the speakers. You even have dinner at Mari's house. Her parents are shocked to hear that you and Mark aren’t together yet. The blush on your cheeks are the shade of ripe cherries. At the school, you sit with Mark’s friends practically for every meal. Everyone is fond of you, except Lana. Every time Mark tells stories about wacky customers or talks about how excited he is because you both received an A in philosophy class, Lana gives you a look. Vice versa, Mark glares at Haechan whenever he gets too close to you, he doesn’t say anything.

 You and Mark had started the business in the summer, the weather outside is more autumn-like now. You have to wear a scarf to class because of how chilly it is.  Leaves change to shades of burgundies and browns, falling off trees when they’re ready- it almost signifies the start of a new season- a new chapter of your life. 

Autumn

>Where did the time go?

You became someone I used to know

Where did the time go?

When you became someone I used to know

Used to know, used to know, used to know

Business Partner Mark Lee: “Y/n, the boys and I got tickets to the new amusement park. Wanna come?”

You text Mark back during your statistics class, “Of course, I’ll be there.”

Business Partner Mark Lee: “Meet us there at 6 pm. After that, can we talk? I need to ask you about something.”

“Okay.”

Going back to your dorm room, you walk with a pep in your step. You wonder about what Mark wants to talk to you about. Will he finally say something? Is it about the business? Does he think you’re too mean with your teasing? Anyway, you dress up in a cute outfit of your choice- nice shoes, a cotton knit sweater, and a corduroy skirt. You even tie your hair with ribbons that Mark gave you as a congratulation for 100 customers' gifts. You bought him a guitar pick then. 

By the time you reach the amusement park, you meet up with Haechan, Renjun, Jeno, and Jisung. Chenle had choir practice and Jaemin was on a date with some girl. Mark and Lana are nowhere to be found. 

“Hey, guys.”

Haechan sees you first, swinging his arm over your shoulders, “There she is- beautiful y/n.”

You attempt to push his weight off, “Haechan, you’re heavy- you’re going to break my shoulder bone.”

Jeno laughs, “I don’t think that’s actually possible.”

Renjun jumps in, “What should we do first? Ferris wheel? Laser tag? Mini-golf?”

“We’re not doing rollercoasters, not the upside down ones.” Jisung rolls his eyes, chewing his mint flavored gum.

Haechan smirks, “Jeez Jisung, you’re no fun- you can stay on the ground and video record us like a grandma.”

Renjun shoves Haechan, “I’m with Jisung on that one, unless you want puke all over your expensive jacket.”

“Fine, me and y/n will be up there.” Haechan leans down to whisper in your ear, “If you get scared, you can hang on to me.”

You awkwardly pat Haechan’s chest, “I don’t think that’ll be necessary, thank you.” Haechan raises his eyebrows, his lips upturned in a smirk, “Whatever you say, y/n.”

You know that Haechan has a crush on you. Jeno and Jisung had told you so out of curiosity but doubted it from the start- they knew you had your eyes on Mark the entire time. Haechan could never compete. 

“Where’s Mark and Lana?”

Renjun snaps his fingers, his eyes lighting up, “Oh yeah- Mark told me he was picking up Lana. I think they were hanging out before this.”

Haechan responds, “I’m not surprised. I think Mark will ask her out today, their families have known each other since birth.”

Your heart sinks. Oh, so there was someone else. It’s probably why Mark brushed you off that day. Probably why he’s never said anything since. You feel a bit sick in your stomach and you haven’t gone any roller coaster yet. You had spent this whole time pining for someone who’s not going to like you even as close as you like them. It’s been one-sided.

You’re interrupted from your thoughts when Jisung waves excitedly at Mark and Lana, both of them side by side. You feel weird about it. Renjun straight up, his finger pointing to the air, “Let’s do laser tag first, I call dibs being team captain.”

Jeno laughs, his eyes crinkling when he does, “Then I’m the other team captain.”

“Hey, y/n.” Mark comes up from behind you.

“Hey Mark. Hey Lana.”

 Lana says a barely audible, “Hey.”

Once you’re all split into teams, it goes like this: Jeno’s the captain of your team, you, Haechan and Lana are on team red. Team blue consists of Renjun as captain, Mark and Jisung. To compensate for the lack of team members, team blue gets a head start in hiding. When the game begins, you just try to have your best to have fun. You dodge around the glow in the dark pillars, aiming your gun at Renjun as he angrily fists the air from running out of ammo. Haechan and Jisung fight off to the death, freezing each other out. By the time the hour is done, it’s down to you, Lana and Mark. You try to devise a plan with her but she doesn’t seem to engage with you. All she tells you is, “I’ll get Mark out.”

Was that a warning? A phrase of double meaning? Maybe you’re just overthinking it because of envy. Down to the last three seconds, Lana and Mark face off in the middle of the playground. Before Lana shoots him, Mark fires first- the obnoxiously blaring alarm sounding off team blue’s victory. Jeno throws his gun down in frustration, you pat his back in comfort as you watch Mark laugh with Lana and Renjun. Who were you kidding? 

Haechan shouts, “Let’s go on the dragon ball coaster next!”

When you’re all in line for the coaster, Haechan whispers a joke about the man who’s dressed as a clown a few feet away, enticing park-goers into the circus tent. You laugh at the joke. To Mark, he’s burning with jealousy. He watches when Haechan, his friend’s lips almost touch your ear, your giggle from Haechan’s flirting. Mark tightens his fist, averting his eyes from a scene. He has yet to tell you but he’s waiting for the right moment. He doesn’t want to come off as the overly-jealous boyfriend when you aren’t his. He snaps out of it when Lana tugs his arm, “Can we go in the tunnel? I’m not good with coasters.”

Before Mark can answer, Renjun jokingly gags, “The tunnel of love? You guys are bound to moochie mooch in there huh?”

When Renjuns says such a thing, you don’t hear any of Haechan’s jokes anymore. You don’t hear the sound of Jeno jostling Jisung and Jisung whining about it. You just wait for Mark’s response. He stares back at you in silence, Haechan even stops talking to look at Mark looking at you. Your eyes trail down to see Lana’s clutch on Mark’s arm, tightening when she makes eye contact with you, “Mark?”

You can’t hold it in. It just falls out from your lips, “You two should go, there’s limited seats in the coaster cars anyway since we have an odd number.”

It’s like someone’s fed you bitter medicine. You grimace at your words, almost regretting them instantly. Jeno and Jisung give you a knowing look, they know. Haechan laughs, “Very true point y/n, you guys can head along.”

Mark ducks under the cue line, Lana scrambling to follow after him. Everytime she tries to cling on to him, Mark removes her hands politely, declining. It makes you feel even worse. Jisung and Jeno carry on with their conversation. Haechan looks at the pair, “They make a good couple don’t they?”

You just nod. Maybe they do. After the roller coaster ride, you don’t feel any better. Jeno and Haechan are screaming to go again and Renjun and Jisung opt to go get snacks at the candy shop by the merry go round. Haechan nudges you, “Let’s go again?”

You smile at them, “Actually, I think I’m going to go home. I don’t feel well- I think I ate something that expired this morning.”

Jeno frowns, “Are you sure? We can take you home if you want.”

Waving your hands in refusal, “No, no, you guys have fun- I’ll see you in class on Monday.”

You begin to walk away from them, a rising feeling in your stomach. You dig your fingernails into the skin of your hands. Do not cry right now. Mark’s just one person. But you know that it hurts too much to forget about him. You almost don’t hear it when Haechan is shouting at you to wait up, grabbing your wrist.

“Y/n? Can we talk? Oh-”

It’s too late. The dam is broken, your tears are starting to blur your vision. Not right now, not in front of Haechan. 

“Y/n.. what’s wrong?”

You sniffle, swiping at your eyes, “Nothing. I’m okay, I’m just tired and stressed about the business.”

Haechan’s face softens, he’s fiddling with the zipper on his expensive suede jacket, “I know this isn’t a good time but if I don’t say it now, I don’t think I can. I really, I mean really, like-”

You cut him off, “You like me. Right?”

Haechan becomes still. He freezes, slow blinking, “How did you know?”

“Any girl who can’t see it is more than oblivious. And, I appreciate it. I love you but not in the romantic way. I love you because you’re kind to me, you���re witty, and you make everyone in this group so happy. But I-I just I can’t- ”

“It’s Mark right? Jeno and Jisung told me.”

An awkward beat. You two don’t say a word. It’s just silence between you two, tears falling from your face and onto the pavement. Your nose is running and you’re sure that the other park-goers who pass by are staring at you two like some spectacle. 

“I’m sorry, Haechan. I didn’t want to hurt you.”

Hacehan sighs, looking up at the blush pink sky that’s being consumed by inky storm clouds, thunder beckoning rain in the distance. He thinks to himself, I knew it was Mark all along. Why did he even bother? At the time, he thought it was worth the shot. Now, he looks at your crying face, the way your long hair falls over your ears. He takes it upon himself to put one strand behind your ear, wiping your tears with the pad of his thumb, “How could you hurt me? We’re friends and I’ll always care about you. I’ll be okay.”

You stare back at him, it makes the crack in your heart widen. The world is so unfair. It’s unfair to you and to Haechan, to your family. At least, Haechan has a chance of finding a soulmate who isn’t as broken as you. He’ll find some nice girl to laugh at his jokes, tease him when he whines, and buys him video games every holiday. You stand on your tippy toes because of how tall he is, pressing a lingering kiss to his cheek. You whisper, “You’re going to find a soulmate who will love you for eternity- I’m sure of it.”

>I think we must’ve known how it ended

When we wrote it on a napkin with tears and a pen

A couple of kids who pretended

Until it felt real in our heads

Haechan stares at the ground, not saying a word. You take off running, tears running down your face like it matches the hard beating in your chest. It always ends up like this. It’s like the world can’t give you one piece of happiness. You decide to walk home. Call it melancholy or stupid because you can catch a cold, but you’re not in the mood to ask anyone for a ride. You walk on the streets alone, rain coming hard on you. Your hair, your outfit, all of it soaked. And you’re sure that you’ve lost one of your hair ribbons from running. You don’t have strength in you to wish for sunshine. Concerned mothers ask if they can buy you an umbrella and you just decline politely. It hurts, the smell of the rain and mixing of your tears. Your feet are blistered and drenched. In your pocket, your phone vibrates continuously. Mark’s asking where you are and you don’t have it in you to see his stupidly dumb, dorky, adorable face. 

Dragging your feet along the pavement, the rain only comes down harder. There’s barely anyone on the streets and cars zip by, splashing puddles onto the cement. Your lungs are choked up from your sobs. That’s when you hear it, a voice calling out to you from a distance. You don’t want to turn around but you can’t stop yourself from doing so. You can’t resist it.

>I guess I don't really know who you are now

I guess that we met with our heads in the clouds

So I look for your name and I say it out loud

Maybe that makes you real

I don’t know how to feel

I guess I don’t really know who you are now

I guess that we met with our heads in the clouds

So I look for your name and I say it out loud

Maybe that makes you real

I don't know how to feel

“Wait! y/n!”

You freeze in your tracks, your back faced to the boy who’s ran all this way to catch up to you. He’s got his hands on his knees, coughing from how fast he had to move. You still don’t turn around, you just feel it. “Let’s talk Monday, I’m not in the mood.” You speak slowly so he can’t recognize the cracks in your voice. 

You feel Mark step closer to you, “Why’d you leave? I was going to talk to you, remember?”

You can’t hold it in anymore. You turn around, your tears blurring the vision of a rain-soaked Mark in front of you, “I can’t do this with you anymore!”

Mark freezes, his eyes trained on you. He doesn’t even blink. He stands a few feet away, a crushed and now wet gift box in his hand. “Y/n, just tell me what’s wrong.”

You sigh, trying to breathe air into your lungs, “All this time, I don’t know what I feel. I’m so confused about all of it. You’re confusing me!”

“What are you talking about?”

“God, I’m so stupid!” You wipe your tears, the thunder roaring above your heads. The water doesn’t cease at all. The weather matches the burn in your heart. You heave, continuing, “I have to go. See you in class,  Mark.”

Before you can walk away, you feel a firm hand on your wrist. 

“Y/n. Look at me.”

You whimper, “I can’t,”

“I said look at me.”

Reluctantly, you face Mark, he’s still holding your wrist. You gaze up at him. His hair is matted against his forehead, cold droplets on his cheeks and trailing down to his chin. His jacket looks heavy and now, there’s barely space in between you. It all happens so fast, he drops the white gift box to the ground, clasping both of his hands on both sides of your face. He’s so close. You can feel the warmth of his breath, see every detail that makes him himself, every little memory and trait. 

You search for some sort of sign, trying to calculate his next move, “What are you-”

He cuts you off by smashing his lips onto yours, powerfully and desperately. You melt and your mind’s being clouded by foggy thoughts, his arms supporting you by holding your body up. You’re surprised your knees haven’t given up yet. Mark molds his lips to yours, it’s a back and forth of wet, open-mouthed kisses under the crash of the rain. You both don’t mind. He continues to kiss you like that, eyes shut, pressing his lips harder and harder until you can’t breathe. Your fingers claw through his soaked hair, noses against cheeks, and you reel back to gain more access. His hands move to the make of your neck, his thumb swiping over your cheek. He groans when your tongue meets his, your bodies becoming hot despite the icy crystals falling down on you. You part from him, Mark chasing your lips in response, “Let’s go home and then we’ll talk.”

He swipes the remainder of your tears away, you nod. The whole time you walk home, Mark doesn’t let go of your hand. In fact, he holds your body close to his. You decide to go to Mark’s room tonight. He shuts his door, handing you a towel, “You shower first. I’ll go after.”

You protest, “I’m okay- I don’t really have anything to wear anyway.”

Mark throws one of his t-shirts and a pair of basketball shorts at you, “Wear these, I don’t want you to get sick.”

You smile, “Thanks.”

After a nice long, hot shower- the rain seems more peaceful outside of Mark’s dorm room window. The only light source he has is a lamp that sits on his desk, the print on the lampshade covered with lions. He must’ve had that when he was little. When Mark’s down showering, he wears a grey hoodie and sweatpants and you’d be lying to yourself if you said you didn’t want to kiss Mark again. He sits on his bed next to you, moving his guitar out of the way, “So, what happened?”

You sigh, “When I saw you with Lara, I couldn’t, I don’t know, see you with someone else.” Mark chuckles, “Were you jealous?”

You look at him in the dark, punching his arm slightly, “No- don’t even dream of it.”

“What if I told you I was jealous of Haechan?”

You narrow your eyes at him, “You were?”

Mark rolls his eyes, “Are you kidding? He was practically whispering in your ear and being so close, you know he likes your right? He told me and I told him to go for it but I messed up, I shouldn’t have.”

You play with the frayed thread on Mark’s t-shirt, “He told me, I turned him down.”

“Why?”

“Ugh, you know why.”

Mark presses his finger to his eyes, covering his nose in embarrassment, “I like you y/n.”

You don’t even register when he says it. 

You were still talking about something but you pause when Mark’s words echo in your head, “After that kiss? I was hoping that’s what you were going to say.”

You and Mark erupt into a giggling fit, shoving each other. Then Mark pulls out something from behind him, it’s the squashed white gift box. He bites his lip, causing it to glow pink, “I was planning on telling you today and giving you this but someone took off.”

“Sorry about that.”

Mark shakes his head, grinning. He pulls out a tiny, gold necklace that’s in the shape of a sun. Even in the dark, it glimmers. You touch it tenderly, afraid it’ll break in your fingertips, “You got this for me?”

Mark nods, “Can I put it on?”

You turn your back to him, holding up your hair in a ponytail for his nimble fingers to clasp the necklace onto your neck. The cold metal of it soothes your skin. 

You touch it, running your fingers over the charm, “It’s beautiful, thank you. For the record, I like you too Mark.”

But in the back of your mind, there’s that shadow that always remains. It takes the form of fear, uncertainty- telling you that you do not deserve happiness or you do not deserve to love anyone. Still, it doesn’t stop Mark from leaning over to you and kissing you once again. He uses his fingers to trace your hair and the hollow of your neck, the side of your arm. It makes you shiver, it makes goosebumps rise in hills. You grasp his black locks, lips once again moving in a syncopated wave. Mark mumbles several hums, addicted to the taste of the way your lips feel. You want Mark. You want him so badly it kills you. You’re afraid to fall and it makes you want it even more. Pulling his hoodie, you fold your legs over his lap, straddling him. It makes him heated, blush spotting his cheeks and his neck. He runs his soft hands over the skin of your thighs and traces the waistband of your shorts. You’re trying your best not to lose self-control. It goes out the window when he removes his hoodie, his skin glowing under the lamp light. 

You run your thumb across his collarbone and the curves of his abdomen and chest like you’re connecting constellations. You press your swollen lips to the base of his collarbone, rubbing your hand on the warm skin of his shoulder, “Have I ever told you that you’re gorgeous?

”Mark doesn’t answer, he’s busy tipping his head back, shutting his eyes from the feel of your lips on his skin. He opens his eyes before leaning over to move your hair behind your ear once again, nibbling on your earlobe. You accidentally moan when he moves to the juncture of your neck, it turns Mark on even more. He swipes his tongue by the base of your neck, “I.” A kiss. Don’t know if.” A kiss. “You remember this.” A kiss. Mark parts away to finish his sentence, “I remember you from that night at the hospital. Do you remember me?”

That’s when you snap out of it. You gaze back at him, replaying everything in your head. Your mom. The shrine. The gift. The sun and the rain. You slide off his lap, touching the area of your shoulder. The shadow in your mind, the voice in your mind telling you not to give in.

“Y/n? Is everything okay?”

You nod, “Yes, I remember you. When we first met, I said that we didn’t because everything that day was so blurry that I cut it out of my memories. But for what it is, I remember you.”

Mark looks sad, immediately regretting he even brought it up. You mold your hand to his cheek, “Hey, it’s okay. I’m glad I met you back then, that will never change.”

Mark opens his mouth to say something but closes it when he finds a spot pinging, a tiny glow appearing on his hand. When you look down too, a glow appears on the same spot of your hand. After a couple seconds, the glow forms into the shape of a sun, Mark’s name glowing above it. Mark’s glow forms into the shape of a raindrop, your name glowing on his hand in cursive letters.

You both look at each other and back to your hands, “Does this mean-”

He lets out a breath he’s been holding, “You’re my soulmate?”

While Mark’s ecstatic, you feel a weight just drop in your stomach. No. Not right now. Mark realizes you’re staring at your hand, you look as if you had just seen a ghost. You almost wished you had.

“Is everything alright? Did I-?”

Instantly, you grab Mark’s hands, “I need you to listen to me carefully okay?”

Your hands are shaking now and you feel like you’re going to burst into tears again. This is the worst thing that you can do to someone, this is why you were reluctant to have Mark in the first place. You love him so much you can’t bear to hurt him like this. 

“Y/n… what’s happening?”

Slowly and delicately, you lift off Mark’s t-shirt over your head. Mark’s expression is utterly, painfully blank. He stares at you, unmoving.

“What is that?”

Though you’re in the dark, it shines brightly clear. The skin of your shoulder is completely coated with this invisible matter, tiny bubbles floating through it. It resembles the rain. The thing is consuming your shoulder and gaps of your chest are missing. No person could tell if they didn’t see your naked body. 

Mark leans forward, running his hand over your shoulder, his fingers go right through your body like it isn’t there. 

“Please tell me this isn’t real. This is just a joke right?”

You place your head in Mark chest, your arms hugging his bare waist, “I found out my gift comes with a price. My body is becoming a part of the weather, a part of the sky above. Ever since that day I stepped into the shrine on top of the hospital, I saw water floating upwards- this is the consequence for toying around with nature.”

Mark doesn’t say anything. He thinks for a moment. He grips the comforter you both sit on top of. Then, he speaks, “Can’t I fix this?! There has to be a way- maybe if I go to the shrine and figure something out-”

You release him, putting your hands on both sides of his face, “You can’t. I’ve tried everything. I even went to a priest, a shaman, anyone I could find. You heard about the forecasters talking about the floods right? As long as I’m here, this city will be underwater. I’m a glitch in the system. I’m the virus in the code, blocking the world from being natural.”

>I guess I don't really know who you are now

I guess that we met with our heads in the clouds

So I look for your name and I say it out loud

Maybe that makes you real

I don’t know how to feel

I guess I don’t really know who you are now

I guess that we met with our heads in the clouds

So I look for your name and I say it out loud

Maybe that makes you real

I don't know how to feel

Mark begins to cry. Tears fall from his eyes, dropping onto the skin of your hand. All you can do is hug him as tight as you can, fearful that if you let go- you can’t have him back, “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you. I’m sorry. I’m sorry I’m hurting you. I’m so so sorry.”

Mark sobs into your shoulder for the next hour or so. When he’s tuckered out from crying, you put him to bed, standing up to walk towards Mark’s desk. You decide to write letters to your aunt, Mari, and your friends. You even leave one for Lana. When you’re finished, you slip under the covers next to Mark. You use your fingers to touch his eyelids and his nose, his cheeks and the ruffle of his hair because you know it will be the last time. Pressing a kiss to his nose, you settle against Mark’s chest, knowing the sky will claim you in the morning. 

In the morning

The next morning, Mark wakes up from what he thinks is a nightmare. He sweats profusely, he feels dehydrated,and his throat feels like it’s being ripped open. The worst part is when his heart begins to settle, he sees his own hoodie and basketball shorts where you had lay next to him. Though he wasn't awake, he remembers it all. He remembers you sitting at his desk, you kissing his nose. He remembers your warmth. This can’t be the end. Mark takes the first morning train to the hospital. He calls his friends, Jeno, Renjun, and Haechan to the hospital. Over the phone, he tells them he’ll explain later, he just tells them that you need them. They drive there as soon as the train departs. From arriving at the hospital, everything is like a blur. The hospital staff doesn't want to let some random teenage boy up onto the room, warily suspicious of the request.  

That's when Haechan, Jeno, and Renjun risk it all for you and Mark, tackling and holding back the employees even if they’re radioing security at that very moment. Mark races up the stairs after grabbing the keys to the door, he remembers when those were his keys. He talks to himself. Please. Please. I have to see her. I have to see her one last time. He even prays to whoever’s up there about it. To his dismay, when he gets up there- he doesn’t see a shrine like you had described. He kicks the metal railing out of anger, screaming into the air as he calls out your name. He demands the sky to give you back. No one answers and it kills him.

From up there, you wake up in an unfamiliar scenery. You sit up, groggy from sleep. Looking down at your hands, you don’t believe it. Water takes the form of you, replacing your skin with invisible liquid. You’re sitting on what seems to be like a cloud, fish made out of rain droplets flying all around you in schools. When you look above you, it’s another world. A whale made of thunder clouds lets out a bellow, voices of children laughing when lighting strikes. There’s a castle floating in the distance, each level of the castle painted with different hues of color. It’s all eerily beautiful. Despite its beauty, no one’s around. You’re all alone. 

You touch your shoulder, only feeling nothing but water. Your body isn't real. It means the sky has completely and entirely claimed you. That’s when you feel a cold metal thing hanging around your neck. Mark. Mark’s still down on earth. You begin to hold onto it, the chain slipping out of your fingers and through the cloud that you sit on, you scream Mark’s name as loud as you can. You cry and you scream, sobs wracking your entire body. That was the last piece you had connected to Mark, your soulmate. This is your consequence. What good are soulmates if there’s only one half to the whole? What is the point? Even so, you love Mark so much. You miss him.

Mark screams at the sky, tears lining his eyes. He sees something shine above him, dropping onto the pavement by his foot. When he crouches down for a better look, it’s the sun pendant that he gave you last night. He squeezes it in his hand, screaming for you. There is no answer. 

In front of him, some shape materializes from a blurry image. When it focuses, it morphs into a red archway just as you had told him in the library. He runs up to it, desperate for any sign of you. He asks your name. Still, there’s no answer. He takes it upon himself to do the unthinkable. Maybe he’s crazy, maybe people will think he’s insane. He doesn’t care, all he wants is to see you. He steps under the red archway. He feels it within his body. The bells that hang by strings chime, the water from inside the stone fountain begins to flow upwards like slow motion evaporation. Then all of a sudden, he’s falling.

Winds rip his clothes and rip through his hair, he’s screaming. Everything is a blur of white clouds and flying animals made of water. He hears the thunder and sees the lightning too, it’s all consuming and real. He knows he’s not on earth anymore. That’s when the clouds begin to part, he sees you sitting there. You’re crouched up on a cloud, head buried in your knees. He screams for you, causing you to snap your head up at the voice. It can’t be. It can’t be Mark. But it is, the boy who is your soulmate is falling out of the sky above, emerging from the clouds and reaching out for you.

 The wind gusts him away from the cloud you’re sitting on, “MARK!’

“Y/N!”

You don’t care at this point. You jump off your cloud, the wind current carrying you to Mark before you’re free falling with him. You outstretch your hand to him, your voice can’t be heard in the screaming wind. He reaches to you, straining his face while doing so. When he manages to grab hold of you, he’s surprised to know it feels like he’s holding a person given your body. You fall together, hands enclasped in hands. You yell, “What are you doing here?! You shouldn’t be here!”

Mark holds on so tight, “I had to see you! I’m not letting you go, I don’t care! Aren’t you my soulmate? You have to stay with me!”

“Mark, if I go back down there, we all have to pay the price. Just let me go!”

“I’m not doing it y/n! I won’t do it! I don’t care! I choose you over the weather! I choose you over the sky! I just need you.”

You smile at him. Oh, Mark. Then, something else happens. Mark’s teardrop starts to glow golden, the light enveloping the entirety of his arm and spreading to his body. Even though your hand is made of water now, your sun starts to ping in syncopation with Mark’s mark. Golden light shimmers, rays exploding like sunshine as Mark holds you close. He’s there and he’s real, you can smell his scent of body soap that he uses, he’s so warm. The world blurs together in a series of colors and emotions, blues and yellows and silvers. It’s layers of rain and layers of snow, it’s as if you’re falling out of the cosmos and it’s endless.The sensation of falling ends. You open your eyes slowly, you find yourself cradled in Mark’s chest on the hospital’s rooftop. Your head aches and it throbs like hell, but still, you jump back when you realize that your body isn’t liquid anymore. Mark pulls your shirt down to check your shoulder, it’s nothing but human flesh and bone. You gaze back at Mark, “You saved me. You pulled me back down.”

It doesn’t take any time for Mark to kiss you the hardest he’s ever kissed you. You both sit there for a while, cradled in each other’s arms. Mark digs his nose into your neck, “I can’t live without you. You’re my soulmate, there’s no one else.”

You nod as you run your fingers through his hair, “You and me against it all then.”

1 year later

>Where did the time go?

Where did the time go?

When did you become someone I used to know?

Where did the time go?

After the day that Mark pulled you down from the sky, you thought that you’d spend every second with each other after. Instead, it was the opposite. Because you were on earth, the rains and the flooding never stopped. You weren’t able to control the weather anymore and the outcome that the forecasters had predicted became true. Almost 50 percent of the city was already underwater and still sinking, many people died trying to escape the floods or had to quickly evacuate. It disrupted everyone’s lives but at the time, Mark thought it was worth it for you. After that day, you told him you decided on something. You told him that you loved him and that you’d always find your way back to him, no matter what. After all, soulmates become linked. During your last semester of university, you wanted to spend time with your family and to travel the world with your aunt- in case the sky were to claim you once again. In case you were told that the world would end tomorrow, you wanted memories that lasted and time to tell all the people in your life that you loved them. You wanted to heal from your past, trying to find ways to connect to your parents like meeting their relatives or reading your father’s journal. 

Somehow, Mark took it well. Though he was sad for several days, as were your friends that you were leaving (yes, you explained to them the entire situation, they still have a hard time believing it). You knew that things would change. You’d pick up small updates here and there, graduation was approaching and Mark had chosen to participate in a training program to become a singer. Haechan found his soulmate at his work, the other boys doing their own thing. You hadn’t seen Mark in almost an entire year. Now, today was the day that you and your aunt would be coming back from a backpacking trip in Europe. You knew Mark would also be coming home the same day. On the plane, you thought: Did he forget you? Would he have found someone else? Does he remember it all? 

The moment you landed, you changed at home- walking over to the coffee shop where you and Mark had planned business meetings frequently back then. Walking through your city felt nostalgic to you, the way your younger self ran through the streets, praying for tomorrow’s sunshine or the way you and Mark would hang out together most weekends. Even the memories of hanging out with your friends before class, walking Mosby with your aunt during the autumn season, and pasting photographs on your dorm room wall felt like long ago. Upon entering the establishment, you closed your umbrella before taking a seat at an empty table. A barista took your order, who happened to be one of your other classmates from university. Even seeing them after a year, which isn’t too long- still felt surreal. 

The bell on the cafe’s door chimes, the barista at the counter greeting the stranger. That’s when a familiar voice makes you snap your head up. There he is, standing in the flesh in front of you. Mark sports black dress pants and a button up, his figure taller, leaner- more muscular, has he been working out? Mark’s hair is gelled back, different from how he looked before. It looks good on him. His familiar smile spread across his face, a teardrop glowing golden on his hand, “You seem familiar. Have we met before?”

You nod, running into his welcoming arms. 

@czennienet​ @neowritingsnet​ @dreamwritersnet​

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[penguinwithitsarseonfire]

Sparks Fly (Whenever You Smile)

Pairing: 13th Doctor x Reader

Word Count: 3,170

Warnings: None

Summary: The Doctor takes you to the planet Erinda; famous for its pink snow. After exploring the local fauna of the place, you finally see the snow. Things end in a snowball fight, and perhaps, something more. (This is technically a sequel to Gave Me the Blues and then Purple-Pink Skies but can also be read as a standalone)

A/N: I mostly wrote this because of the tags @fabulouspotatosister​ wrote on gmbpps (that's the first time I wrote that title out as an acronym and oh my I have so many regrets) so this is for you hon! Congratulations on getting through all your exams! You deserve a well earned rest m’love ❤️

As the Doctor bounded towards the TARDIS door, you watched the projection on the wall, trying to make sense of the different circles and lines that made up the coordinates of where ever she had landed you.

“And you’re sure this is Erinda?” You asked, turning around to face her.

You had left your jacket draped on the banister and had decided to just throw a jumper on over your t-shirt in case you got cold. You didn’t want to be stuck wearing layers of winter clothes in a hot environment, there was no way you were doing that again.

The Doctor peeked her head out of the door, leaned back, closed it, then turned to you with a grin. “I can safely say that we’re successfully on Erinda – oh! Wait.”

She stuck out her head out of the TARDIS door again, sticking her tongue out. “Yep,” she called out. “This is most definitely Erinda!”

You smiled and rolled your eyes at her antics, picking up your jacket as you walked towards her. She grinned back and popped out, so you jogged to catch up. You were bouncing slightly as you went, trying to contain your excitement.

You were going to see pink snow, pink!

The thought was completely astounding and you couldn’t help the giddy childlike glee build up as you crossed the threshold of the TARDIS-

-Only to be met with an average park.

It really was just a normal, boring park, exactly like the ones you would see back home. It had all the stereotypical identifying factors. There was green grass and a collection of flowers in garden beds, which were in neat little rows by gravel set pathways. There were people walking dogs, eating food on park benches, and lazing in the sun; either studying or sleeping. There was even a large fountain that sat in the centre, with children throwing pennies into it and making wishes.

What wasn’t there, however, was pink snow.

Your heart dropped and you absentmindedly felt that childlike anticipation shatter. You turned to face the Doctor, at a loss. “There’s no pink snow.”

“Yeah,” the Doctor drew out the word, scratching the back of her ear. The chain from her earring cuff dangled slightly as she did so, and it caught against the sunlight. “I could have sworn the snowstorm was supposed to happen about now… Dunno what I did wrong.”

“About now?”

“Planned it for the moment you’d step out of the TARDIS,” she said, and she sounded completely disheartened. “Wanted it to be a bit special.”

Your heart softened at that statement. “Oh Doc, that’s really sweet,” you stared back out to the park in front of you. “Even if it didn’t exactly work out.”

Above you the sky was dark, with heavy, angry clouds slowly rolling across. The Doctor followed your gaze and looked up at them, sticking her tongue out slightly in deep thought – or, well, you assumed she was in deep thought. She also pulled that face when she was considering what sort of biscuit she wanted to eat, so the face could mean practically anything.

“Might’ve gotten the time wrong,” she said absently. “Could be another couple of minutes,” she turned to look at you. “Shall we go for a walk? There’s other really interesting stuff I can show you!.”

You blinked and unhelpfully repeated her, like a confused parrot. “Interesting stuff?”

The Doctor gave you a cheeky smirk. “Super interesting stuff,” she stuck out her hand. “C’mon.”

You clasped your hand in hers and the two of you walked side by side. Your boots crunched against the gravel path, and a slight chill nipped against your ears, your nose, and one of your hands. The other was tucked comfortably in the Doctor’s warm palm, acting like a mini heater against the cold around you.

It seemed though that no matter where you went, there were droves of people, each filling their own little spaces, but, in doing so, left you with no privacy. It made you feel a bit awkward, it wasn’t that you didn’t like it per-say, it was just, well, you had been expecting pink snow, not a park that could be mistaken for one on Earth.

The Doctor seemed just as dispirited as you, and stopped suddenly, surveying the area. She let go of your hand to clasp both of hers together, patting her thumbs against each other.

Your hand felt colder, but you chose not to think about it.

The Doctor rocked backwards and forwards on the balls of her feet, as if building up the energy to shoot herself into the sky. She eyed the tourists for a moment, then stuck out her hand again, taking yours wordlessly. She motioned towards an area that seemed to lead to a vast, empty green field. “Let’s go this way.”

You followed along after her, grateful that you still got to hold her.

Fewer and fewer people dotted the park as you continued on your path, and tall gangly trees sprouted in their place. They towered above you, shielding you from the sky and basking you in their orange leaves.

“Are they like this all year round?” You asked the Doctor, nodding towards the trees. “Or is it just because of the cold, like back on Earth.”

The Doctor hummed, following your gaze. “Oh these? Well they’re Argail trees, so it’s quite odd that they’re orange, actually. They should have bright yellow leaves.”

“Yellow leaves?” You gawked, your mind rewriting the colour of their leaves to a bright neon yellow, like the colour of a high-vis jacket.  “All year round?”

The Doctor hummed. “Well, it’s not that different than orange, is it?”

You contemplated it for a moment. “No, I supposed not,” you thought of bright yellow leaves again, and wondered if they would reflect the streetlights at night. “Still though,” you continued. “I suppose orange is just more familiar, and now the only thing I’m thinking of is super bright yellow leaves.”

The Doctor chuckled. “Well if you think that’s odd,” she nodded to a tree to your side. “Go ahead and touch it.”

You raised an eyebrow. “Well that’s not vague at all.”

“C’mon,” she insisted. “They’re really cool.” She scrunched up her face for a moment. “Huh, cool. Haven’t said that a while.”

You eyed the tree thoughtfully then dragged the Doctor along with you, not yet willing to let go of her hand. At the base of the tree you stretched out your other hand to touch the bark. Under your fingers, a collection of blue flowers suddenly unfolded themselves, pushing the bark back and poking out their little, soft petals. You gasped in delight as more unfurled themselves, showing a pattern that twisted up the trunk.

They pulsed softly, alternating between a rich Navy and soft periwinkle, like there was a little light inside each one of them. It was rhythmic and slow, reminding you of something you couldn’t quite place.

“Your heartbeat,” the Doctor said softly, and your spine tingled. She was closer to you than you had realised. “They respond to a heartbeat.”

You blinked, looking at her for a moment before your attention was drawn back to the flowers. Your heartbeat, you were watching your very own heartbeat in the flowers.

Okay, so really cool was an understatement.

“Wow,” you breathed, not really having the words to express the awe you felt, looking at these flowers reflecting your actual, honest to god heartbeat.

An MRI machine would never compare now, not after this.

“There’s more,” she said. “Do you wanna see?”

You nodded, still not tearing your eyes away from the flowers.

Before you knew it the Doctor was marching along the path, dragging you along with her, the gravel crunching under your shoes. Behind you, you watched as the flowers folded back into the tree, as though they had never appeared at all.

You crashed into the Doctor and let out a small cry. She had stopped right in front of you, and, as you turned around around to see where she had stopped, you instead found her toppling over.

You didn’t even think. You pulled her up from the hand that was still held in yours, and wrapped your other arm around her waist, doing your best to steady her. Gravity, apparently, had other plans, and, twisting dramatically, you both collapsed into the grass.

You let out a startled laugh, rolling over slightly so the grass was underneath you, cold and soft. The Doctor, who was curled in your side, let out a soft groan, and let her head fall into the grass, knocking against your waist lightly.

You looked down at her. “Well, that was something.”

She returned your gaze, grinning. “Yeah, I didn’t mean to fall for you,” her face dropped, and your heart leapt into your throat.

Surely she understood what she had said.

“I- I mean off the path,” The Doctor stammered.

“Yeah,” You laughed awkwardly. “Of course.”

You looked at the Doctor and she looked at you, and in this light, it took you a moment to work out what colour her eyes were.  You often never seemed to know, it was as if the Doctor’s eyes changed colour.  Sometimes they were green, other times they looked more brown, almost as if they were mimicking hazel, but couldn’t quite get it right. Today however, they were almost golden, and they glittered in the sunlight.

The Doctor opened her mouth, as if she were about to say something, but a lone snowflake fell slowly and landed delicately on the tip of her nose. She scrunched up her face, crossing her eyes and trying to look at her own nose.

You cocked your head to the side, studying it, and also trying not to giggle at the Doctor’s expression. She looked like she was pulling a face for a child.

Wait – snow.

You turned your head skywards, and scurried up so you were standing. All around you, tiny pink snowflakes were softly falling from the heavens. They twirled around each other, as if they were dancing. They collected over the ground, over the trees, and into your hair, like a fine dusting of pink powder.

You stuck your hand out, and a collection of pink snowflakes landed in the palm of your hand. You poked at it, it didn’t feel cold, and it was almost as if instead of moulding it, the snow was just moving along with you.

The Doctor completely forgotten, you laughed in delight, wandering through the field as the snow continued to fall. It came down heavier than when it started, but still, it wasn’t cold. It was unlike anything you had ever seen before, unlike anything you could even begin to describe.

It crunched under your boots, and, was you inspected the way it fell on some of the plants, you noticed it had almost knitted itself into their fibres, reminding you of unwoven pink silk.

“This is amazing,” you breathed, and you weren’t sure if the Doctor had heard you, but you loved it all the same.  

You turned back to the Doctor to find her looking at you with a grin, her eyes sparkling in delight – no, wait, not her delight, yours. She was happy because you were.

“Thank you for this,” you said, speaking louder so she could hear you. “This,” you gestured around you. “Is incredible.”

Then her grin turned into a cheeky smirk, and, before you knew it, she had thrown a snowball at you. It hit you square in the face, the snow scattering over your skin and leaving a wet, blotchy mark that went cold in the breeze. You tumbled backwards, flailing your arms to keep you upright. With an oof you landed into the snow, butt first.

The Doctor laughed in delight, and you cocked your head to the side. Oh.

It was on.

You dragged your hand through the growing layer of snow, forming a snowball in your hands. The Doctor let out a squeak and started to run, but there was no where for her to hide, you were both in an empty field .

You stood and began chasing her, throwing the snowball at her as you neared her. You watched it fly in the air, completely off target, before it swerved and hit her on the elbow.

Ah. Okay. So the snow could move.

Right.  

The Doctor tripped slightly, and turned to face you, her arms filled with at least 3 more snowballs – and when had she had the time to make them anyway?

You didn’t have the chance to contemplate the where’s, when’s, or how’s, because suddenly a volley of them were after you. Your dropped downwards towards the ground, narrowly missing the snowballs but getting a face full of the snow instead. It tasted interesting, sweet, like artificial strawberries.

You clawed at the snow and watched as it formed into a snowball on its own accord, then broke apart to create a duplicate.

Well, that answered that, then.

The two of you chased each other in the empty field, the kinetic snow forming and shifting itself to create the most dynamic snowballs you had ever encountered. The snowballs burst whenever they made a hit, and you weren’t sure if it was because of just the way the snow was, or if it was because it was freshly fallen.

The imitation artificial strawberry smell permeated the air, and you knew there was probably a stupid grin plastered on your face. You couldn’t remember the last time you had had this much joyful, reckless fun.

You had lost the Doctor, and had taken the opportunity to stack a supply of snowballs. The lower ones were more compact, harder and icier, but still, they weren’t cold. You had managed to stack a sort of makeshift tower, a supply that would surely cause you to topple the Doctor.

Around you the breeze sung and birds chirped. There was barely any noise, not from other people, or from certain Time Lords. In fact, if you didn’t know any better, you would even argue that it was silent.

Then, you heard a twig snap.

You turned, your pile forgotten as the Doctor lunged at you, pelting you with snow and landing straight on top of you. You both fell into your snowball pile, and you felt the snow sludge into your clothes, down your boots, and into your hair. The snow had even found itself through a hole in your jumper, which you hadn’t even realised was there until that every moment.

You laughed, loud and bright, the Doctor’s weight warm on top of you. “How did you even manage that?” You cried out, still laughing.

The Doctor pulled herself off of you, holding out her hand and pulling you up so you were both sitting in the remains of your fallen tower. “I’m the reigning champion of the Intergalactic Snowball Championships,” she said as she laughed. “Have been for 100 years. My secrets have secrets.”

You weren’t even surprised by that. Nothing about the Doctor fazed you anymore.

The laughter died down, until your stomach was sore and you were hiccupping slightly. The air was now still. As your adrenaline passed you by, it felt colder by the second, and yet, neither of you moved.

The two of you sat there, wordless, breathing heavy, and plumes from your breath danced in the air between you.

Little pink clouds of snow settled into the Doctor's hair, dusted the bridge of her nose and lay to rest across her coat. She was flushed, you noticed, whether from the game, or the cold, you weren't sure, but the rose of her cheeks rather complimented the snow.

From where your jumper had ripped, you thought your arm would be cold, but it wasn't, it was warm, warmer than the rest of you, at least. Your eyes trailed the length of the Doctors figure, and you found that she had rested her hand against your arm, right over the tear in your jumper.

Your heart skipped a beat.

Oh.

You looked back to her face and the Doctor licked her lips. They were chapped slightly –  from the wind, you thought, but otherwise they looked completely soft. You couldn't look away. If you had, you would have noticed that her own eyes were flitting from your eyes to your lips, as if the Doctor was entranced.

Suddenly, the Doctor’s forehead was on yours, her breath matching yours, shaking slightly. Her hand went from your arm, exposing it to the cold, and trailed upwards, resting against your jaw. “Is this okay?” She asked, and there was a rasp in her voice you hadn’t ever heard before. It made you feel warm.

“Yeah.”

Later, the Doctor would say you were the one to lean in first, that it gave her the courage to do the same, but, in this moment, you really couldn't tell.

Because her lips brushed against yours.

The first thing you thought was that her lips were warm, they were soft.

Then you weren't thinking at all.

The kiss was hesitant at first, as if the Doctor were testing it out, then, it grew. Even still, it stole the breath from your body, all you knew was her.

She drew back, whispering your name, as if it were a song. You chased after her, your heart fluttering, or at least, it felt like it did. Your name had never felt so wonderful before, as if it were like its own chorus.

Then she met your lips again, and, for a second time, your brain short circuited.

Your hand trailed upwards, brushing against her earring chain, your fingers tangling in her hair. You gripped tight, pulling yourself into her. You wanted to touch her, to feel her soft skin against yours, to memorise the way it felt under your hands.

You felt like you were walking on air, like you were one of these pink snowflakes, dancing and swaying amongst the breeze.

All too soon, you had to pull away, because breathing was, unfortunately, a thing you had to do. You gasped as you parted, dropping your head onto her shoulder.

“I really like Erinda,” you said, your voice breathy.

The Doctor let out a winded laugh. You watched the rise and fall of her chest as she did so. “Oh good,” she said. “Yeah, I think the snow is the highlight here.”

You nodded into her neck, humming in agreement. “Yeah, I don’t think anything else noteworthy has happened.”

You looked up at her and saw her giving you a delighted, almost dazed expression, as if she couldn’t quite believe that had happened.

“An amazing place for a first date,” you amended. “No seriously Doctor, I love this.”

The Doctor’s eyes sparkled and the smile she gave you was so warm, so soft, it was as if you held out the stars for her. “Good. You deserve to be happy.”

A/N^2: Yes! I know! I wrote a kissing scene! Please don’t let the heavens strike me down if it was awful, an attempt was made.

#the doctor x reader #thirteenth doctor imagine #13th doctor x reader #thirteenth doctor x reader #13th doctor #Doctor Who #DW

[calzona-ga]

She might change her mind; she certainly has before. But midway through an interview, Ellen Pompeo casually drops the bomb that after more than 360 episodes, the upcoming 17th season of “Grey’s Anatomy” may be its last.

“We don’t know when the show is really ending yet,” Pompeo says, answering a question that was not at all about when the show might end. “But the truth is, this year could be it.”

Pompeo has played Meredith Grey — the superstar surgeon around whom “Grey’s Anatomy” revolves — since its start. The show, created by Shonda Rhimes, premiered on ABC on March 27, 2005, and became an immediate, noisy hit. Since then, for a remarkably long time in Hollywood years, the drama has been among the most popular series on TV, even as the landscape of television has changed seismically. At its Season 2 ratings height, the program drew an average audience of 20 million viewers. And all these years later — in a TV universe now divided by more than 500 scripted shows —“Grey’s” ranks as the No. 1 drama among 18- to 34- year-olds and No. 2 among adults 18 to 49. In delayed, multiplatform viewing, Season 16 averaged 15 million viewers.

Strikingly, technology is such that teenagers who were born when the show premiered, and later binged “Grey’s” on Netflix, watch new episodes live with their parents. The series has spawned two successful spinoffs for ABC, “Private Practice” (which ran from 2007 to 2013) and “Station 19” (which enters its fourth season this fall). “Grey’s Anatomy” has been licensed in more than 200 territories across the world, translated into more than 60 languages, and catapulted the careers of music artists — from Ingrid Michaelson and Snow Patrol to Tegan and Sara and the Fray — whose songs have played during key emotional sequences.

In its explosive initial success, “Grey’s Anatomy” was an insurgent force in popular culture. The Season 1 cast featured three Black actors — Chandra Wilson, James Pickens Jr. and Isaiah Washington — as doctors in positions of power at the Seattle hospital where the show is set, and Sandra Oh played the ambitious intern Cristina Yang, who would become Meredith’s best friend. For the women characters, the “Grey’s” approach to sex was defiant and joyful, starting in the pilot with Meredith’s one-night stand with Derek (Patrick Dempsey), who turned out to be one of her bosses at the hospital.

Rhimes presented these images to the world like they were no big deal, when in fact, nothing like “Grey’s” had ever been seen on network television. Krista Vernoff has been the “Grey’s Anatomy” showrunner since Season 14, as anointed by Rhimes, and was the head writer for the first seven seasons. She remembers the moment she realized how radical “Grey’s” was — a medical show driven entirely by its characters instead of their surgeries — as she watched an episode early in Season 1. “My whole body was covered in chills,” Vernoff recalls. “I was like, ‘Oh, we thought we were making a sweet little medical show — and we’re making a revolution.’”

Still, no one expected “Grey’s Anatomy” to become the longest-running primetime medical drama in TV history, outlasting “MASH” and “ER,” the previous record-holder. Since 2005, “Grey’s” has inspired countless women to become doctors, and along the way, its depiction of illness has even saved a few lives. The show has remained popular through three presidential administrations, the Great Recession, tectonic shifts in how people watch TV and two cultural reckonings — one feminist, one anti-racist — that demonstrate how ahead of its time “Grey’s Anatomy” has always been.

And they’re not done yet. When Season 17 premieres on Nov. 12, “Grey’s Anatomy” will tackle the subject of the coronavirus as experienced by the doctors at Grey Sloan Memorial, all while filming under strict COVID-19 protocols. The season is dedicated to frontline workers. And Pompeo, a producer on “Grey’s” — whose Meredith has removed a live bomb from a patient’s body, was in a plane crash, was widowed after Derek died in a car accident, was beaten nearly to death by a patient and, in a separate incident, actually did die briefly after a ferry accident — is intent on making the show top itself once again.

“I’m constantly fighting for the show as a whole to be as good as it can be. As a producer, I feel like I have permission to be able to do that,” Pompeo says. “I mean, this is the last year of my contract right now. I don’t know that this is the last year? But it could very well could be.”

Pompeo has been refreshingly transparent about her fight to become the highest-paid female actor on television, having detailed a few years ago how she negotiated a paycheck for more than $20 million a year. She clearly knows what she’s doing with these frank pronouncements as well.

As Pompeo laughs over the phone from her car, she says in a near shout: “There’s your sound bite! There’s your clickbait! ABC’s on the phone!”

The “Grey’s Anatomy” team — led by Rhimes and executive producer Betsy Beers — created the first season in a vacuum, because the show did not have an airdate. The 2004-05 season was a comeback year for ABC because “Desperate Housewives” and “Lost,” both of which debuted that fall, became phenomena — not only ratings successes but also watercooler events.

But at “Grey’s,” Rhimes was getting noted to death by network president Steve McPherson. According to Vernoff, McPherson — who resigned in 2010 under a cloud of sexual harassment allegations — stonewalled with “pushback every step of the way,” as ABC’s then- head of drama, Suzanne Patmore Gibbs, fought for the show. Vernoff was close with Patmore Gibbs, who died in 2018, and recalls her talking about her clashes with McPherson.

“He just didn’t get it; he didn’t like it,” Vernoff continues. “Honestly, I’m going to say, I don’t think he liked the ambitious women having sex unapologetically.”

Wilson, when she was cast as Miranda Bailey on “Grey’s,” was a New York theater actor (“Caroline, or Change”) relatively new to series television. But she was well aware of the network’s issues. “We took a creative break around the Christmas holiday, which to me meant ‘Oh, we’re out of a job.’”

Pompeo was frustrated: “Once we finally got an airdate, two weeks before that airdate they wanted to change the title of the show to ‘Complications.’”

In an email to Variety, McPherson disputed these assertions, saying, “I made the original deal with Shonda. I developed ‘Grey’s Anatomy’ at the studio. I picked it up at ABC.” He praised Patmore Gibbs, and added, “As for defaming me again and again, I don’t know what to say other than it’s sad that anyone feels the need to spread lies about me.”

Yet there was so little faith in the show that the writers were asked to clear out their offices when they finished the season. But to Vernoff, who had clicked right away with Rhimes, the early episodes had “felt like a labor of love.”

And it was worth the battle. “We fought for the right for Meredith and Bailey to be whole human beings, with whole sex lives, and not a network TV idea of likable,” Vernoff says. “You might not have been likable, but now you’re iconic.”

As far as the medicine went, the cases were often ostentatious. “Every kind of crazy accident that had ever caused terrible harm to any human ever, that was our homework at night,” Vernoff says. It was up to Zoanne Clack, an emergency room doctor-turned-writer, to be a sounding board in the writers’ room. She began as the only doctor on staff during the first season, and is now an executive producer. “What was interesting was that the writers don’t have those boundaries because they don’t know the rules, so they would come up with all of these scenarios, and my immediate thought was like, ‘No way!’” Clack says. “Then I’d have to think about it and go, ‘But could it?’”

When the program finally premiered — on a Sunday night after “Desperate Housewives” — to massive ratings, it was a shock to the cast and crew, given that they had shot the first season under a cloud, Pompeo says, adding, “So the fact that the numbers were that huge the first time we aired was a big f–k-you to McPherson!”

With Season 2 now a given, everything changed, Vernoff says: “It was like a hurricane-force gale, and everyone was just trying to hold on.” They had made 13 episodes for Season 1, airing nine of them and holding the final four for Season 2 — Meredith finding out that Derek was actually married (to Addison, played by Kate Walsh) had felt like the perfect finale. But upon the writers’ return, Vernoff says, the feeling was “Holy s—. We have to make 22.”

The entire cast — mostly unknown actors like Katherine Heigl as the sunny Izzie Stevens, T.R. Knight as the chummy neurotic George O’Malley, and Justin Chambers as the troubled, secretly vulnerable Alex Karev — had become famous overnight. For Wilson, whose Bailey was the stern teacher the interns called “the Nazi,” it was a new experience. “Folks were scared to talk to me, like in the store or in the Target — people would just kind of leave me alone,” she says. “It was like, ‘What’s going on?’”

According to Vernoff, “Paparazzi were following the cast to work — it was wild.”

The mid- to late-2000s were the height of glossy gossip magazines such as Us Weekly (and its copycats), as well as the inception of TMZ and Perez Hilton as celebrity-hounding, news-breaking forces that fueled (and soiled) the fame-industrial complex. The cast of “Grey’s Anatomy” was firmly in the sights of these new, often toxic forces in media.

Pompeo says the cast was so talented that it “was all worth it” — but yes, the transition to stardom was hard for the group: “At the time, it was just a real combination of exhaustion and stress and drama. Actors competing with each other — and envious.”

Heigl, Knight and Isaiah Washington all went through press cycles that made the show seem scandal-prone. To rehash it all now seems pointless; you can look it up. Washington was fired in June 2007. Knight and Heigl asked to be written out of the show preemptively, in Seasons 5 and 6, respectively.

Vernoff and the other writers were watching the internal messes unfold. They had to deal with how the fallout affected the show’s plot, as when Washington was fired just as Burke, his character, was about to marry Cristina. “When word comes down that an actor is leaving the show, and what you’ve got scripted is a wedding …” Vernoff trails off, laughing.

“There was a lot of drama on-screen and drama off-screen, and young people navigating intense stardom for the first time in their lives,” she continues. “I think that a lot of those actors, if they could go back in time and talk to their younger selves, it would be a different thing. Everybody’s grown and changed and evolved — but it was an intense time.”

Pompeo doesn’t want to talk about what happened with individual actors from the show, because when she has in the past, “it doesn’t get received in the way in which I intend it to be.” But she does make a point about the way television is produced. “Nobody should be working 16 hours a day, 10 months a year — nobody,” she says. “And it’s just causing people to be exhausted, pissed, sad, depressed. It’s a really, really unhealthy model. And I hope post-COVID nobody ever goes back to 24 or 22 episodes a season.

“It’s why people get sick. It’s why people have breakdowns. It’s why actors fight! You want to get rid of a lot of bad behavior? Let people go home and sleep.”

Debbie Allen would eventually be Pompeo’s savior in that regard, but that was years away. Allen — an actor and a dancer — began her directing career when she was on the 1980s TV series “Fame” as a “natural progression” because, she says, “I was in charge of the musical numbers, and so many directors didn’t really know how to shoot them.” She went on to be a prolific director and producer, most notably overhauling NBC’s “A Different World” after a tumultuous first season. As a fan of “Grey’s Anatomy,” Allen wanted to work on the show, and in Season 6, she was hired to direct. To prepare for it, Allen shadowed Wilson, who had been tapped to direct by executive producer-director Rob Corn. (“He came to me and said, ‘You should direct,’” says Wilson, who has now helmed 21 episodes. “And I said, ‘OK.’ Because I didn’t know what else to say.”)

Directing that sixth-season episode led to Allen’s fruitful relationship with “Grey’s.” In Season 8, Rhimes wrote Allen into the show to play Catherine, a star surgeon, a love interest for Richard Webber (Pickens) and the mother of Jackson Avery (Jesse Williams). Ahead of Season 12 in 2015, Allen became the show’s EP/director. Her duties included hiring all of the directors, weighing in on scripts and casting, and, as Allen puts it, “minding that people feel good about themselves.” Several years before the revived #MeToo movement would lead to calls for systemic changes behind the camera in Hollywood, Allen set a goal of hiring 50% women directors. She also increased the number of Black men who directed “Grey’s” during her first season as executive producer, among them Denzel Washington. (When she sold him on it, she recounts, he said to her, “I’m going to say yes, Debbie Allen.”)

Pompeo and Allen are close. Allen began her new role the year after Dempsey left, “at a time when we were really broken,” Pompeo says. “And so much of our problems were perpetuated by bad male management. Debbie came in at a time when we really, really needed a breath of fresh air, and some new positive energy.”

Pompeo continues with a laugh: “Debbie really brought in a spirit to the show that we had never seen — we had never seen optimism! We had never seen celebration. We had never seen joy!”

According to Pompeo, Allen began advocating for her to have more humane hours — Fridays off (Pompeo: “And I was like, ‘What? What? Fridays off?’”) — and for the show to shoot 12-hour days maximum, and ideally no more than 10 hours (Pompeo: “And I was like, I love this woman.”).

Allen speaks affectionately about her bond with Pompeo. “Coming out of Boston, she’s so earthy and real in a way that you might not know,” Allen says. “There’s a sisterhood between us — I guess you would say it’s almost a Blackness that exists between us. And she’s part of our tribe.”

Allen has been a key member of the “Grey’s Anatomy” brain trust since Season 12, and two seasons later, Vernoff returned to run the show. She’d left at the end of Season 7, consulted on “Private Practice” for a few years, and then went to Showtime’s “Shameless” for five seasons. As her contract was set to expire, Rhimes asked Vernoff to lunch, and told her she wanted her to take over. “It felt like she was saying, ‘Hey, our kid needs you,’” Vernoff says.

Before accepting the offer, Vernoff had to catch up on the show. She had always written “Grey’s” as a romantic comedy, and what she saw on-screen during her binge was dark as hell — especially after Derek’s death. “If this show that you are currently making is the show that you want ‘Grey’s Anatomy’ to be,” she recalls telling Rhimes, “I am, in fact, not the right writer for it.” But Rhimes was insistent, saying it was time for a change after the mourning period for Derek.

Vanessa Delgado, who started as a production intern during the seventh season and has worked her way up to being lead editor and co-producer, says the show’s trajectory shifted when Vernoff came back — it was a return to the original, saucier tone of “Grey’s.” “We changed the music completely,” Delgado says. “The dialogue felt lighter and more fun, and wewere having fun again.”

That lightness will be difficult to maintain this year, of course, when, as Allen puts it, “COVID is No. 1 on the call sheet right now.”

Vernoff at first wondered whether “Grey’s” should ignore the coronavirus, thinking the audience comes to the show “for relief.” But the doctors in the writers’ room convinced her this wasn’t the time for escapism, saying to her, “This is the biggest medical story of our lifetime, and it is changing medicine permanently.”

When they’ve had doctors and nurses come speak with them this season, Vernoff says, “they were different human beings than the people we’ve been talking to every year. And I want to honor that, tonally. I just want to inspire people to take care of each other.”

Pompeo, who is not shy about offering criticism, sounds positively enthusiastic: “I’ll say the pilot episode to this season — girl, hold on.

“What nobody thinks we can continue to do, we have done. Hold on. That’s all we’re going to say about that!”

Pompeo has a few more months before she decides whether she wants to continue — and as Rhimes and ABC have made clear in recent years, the show will likely end when she leaves. “I don’t take the decision lightly,” Pompeo says. “We employ a lot of people, and we have a huge platform. And I’m very grateful for it.”

“You know, I’m just weighing out creatively what can we do,” she says. “I’m really, really, really excited about this season. It’s probably going to be one of our best seasons ever. And I know that sounds nuts to say, but it’s really true.”

Vernoff doesn’t worry about the creative well drying up. “We’ve blown past so many potential endings to ‘Grey’s Anatomy’ that I always assume it can go on forever,” she says.

And Wilson knows how important “Grey’s” is to its audience, in that the characters have essentially become people who “live in their house.” As one of only three actors who’ve been on “Grey’s” since the beginning — the other is James Pickens Jr. — Wilson is in it until the end: “In my mind, Bailey is there until the doors close, until the hospital burns down, until the last thing happens on ‘Grey’s Anatomy.’ That is her entire arc.”

Whenever the show does conclude, part of its legacy will be about the talent it launched into the world, beginning with Rhimes, who will soon release her first shows for Netflix, after her company, Shondaland, made a lucrative deal with the streamer in 2017.

But it will also be about the characters of “Grey’s Anatomy”— mostly women and people of color — who are trying to make the world a better place as they find friendship, love and community.

“The show, at its core, brings people together,” Pompeo says. “And the fact that people can come together and watch the show, and think about things they may not have ordinarily thought about, or see things normalized and humanized in a way that a lot of people really need to see — it helps you become a better human being. If this show has helped anybody become a better human being, then that’s the legacy I’d love to sit with.”

#grey's anatomy #Ellen Pompeo #chandra wilson #Debbie Allen #krista vernoff #season 17 #variety #news

[brideofcthulhu10]

Next up on our list my lovelies is Paul! A special thank you to @trescharmant-mydear for helping me with brainstorming ideas when writers block had me stumped! I hope you fang babes all enjoy the next boy in our child birth saga!

Lost Boys Fem!S/O Gives Birth [2/4]

Paul

The whole pregnancy thing was undoubtedly a massive shock when you had finally told him. At first he wasn’t even sure it was his. Granted you slugged him for even suggesting you had been having an affair but he couldn’t help it! The idea of impregnation was pretty much impossible as far as they knew. He had no heartbeat, the blood in his veins was dead and black, he kind of assumed by that point his gun was shooting blanks. That is until you began rejecting anything that wasn’t blood or meat. Every day he could see more of that reality coming into play. At first he thought maybe he had just imagined it, but when your stomach grew in really sank in. 

 He was terrified beyond belief knowing he’d soon be responsible for a living, breathing thing- er baby- guh! The word freaked him out. No one even warned him what came with it. Well, Dwayne tried to but those books were nasty. Especially the pictures. Paul tried his best to sit through them but it just stressed him out! There wouldn’t be a doctor! There would be no sterilized hospital bed where a team of nurses would be on standby if there were complications- hell, they wouldn’t be able to know if there even were any complications! That’s what scared him more than anything. You both were utterly in the dark. Were you healthy? Was the baby healthy? Could this kill you if they weren't careful? Ultrasounds were out too, so he couldn't even know if it was a boy or a girl. The uncertainty of it all was torture!

The only way he knew they were still alive was from his own bizarre connection to them. Sure his mental powers were never as clean cut as David’s, but he could still feel their emotions inside you. It was raw. There were no clear thoughts. Even the emotions would pile over each other. Hungry, tired, anxious, hyper, mad, happy. It was almost like there was more than one consciousness in there, but he just figured it was your own heartbeat and emotions clouding the baby's.

Hormones were wild between you both. You wanted sex more than you ever had before, and at first he was all for it. Being the mother of his unborn child brought out a desire that was utterly foreign to him. Yeah he loved you to death before, but now… he couldn't keep his hands off of you. The first few months it was wild, but the bigger you got the more worried he was that something could happen if he lost control. Okay, well, as long as he was careful right? But, things did not go exactly to plan when a firm kick pressed on his erm… Needless to say it certainly freaked him out. Then came the morning sickness.

Fuck whatever liar came up with that name. “Morning”? Try morning, noon, night, and the ass crack of dawn. Twenty-four seven. He hated seeing you hugging a trash bin, panting between excruciating heaves that made your stomach spasm. Paul could only hold your hair back while you gurgled out sobs. It was even harder knowing he was partially responsible for putting you in this position to begin with. Afterwards he’d carry you back to your bed. Yeah, bed. All the guys had felt that you needed something way better than a couch to crash on. There were more pillows and blankets than you could count. Piles on the bed, scattered on the floor, stacked up in the corners. With a bit of searching they’d found a pocket-cave branching just off their own that kept you out of sight and even better, nearby. What Paul really couldn’t account for was how frickin’ clumsy you were! 

Oops you just banged your knee! Well looks like you accidentally nicked your hand while peeling a freaking apple! Paul nearly ripped a guys head off for bumping into you on the boardwalk just to cut in line with his stupid friends. Eventually he just refused to leave your side during the second trimester when he found a bruise on your stomach. You didn’t have the heart to tell him those were from the baby kicking. While the guys went hunting he’d just lay beside you in bed gushing over your taut belly. The baby always stirred when he spoke, even more so when he’d serenade them. His voice always made your face heat up, and inside you could feel your child eagerly pressing up. While Paul was certainly uneasy about his encroaching parenthood he was over the moon the first time the baby really kicked. Even if it seemed scary he was so excited he could hardly sleep most nights. Every day he'd wonder when they'd get here, bombarding you with thousands of questions.

"Do you think they'll have your eyes? I bet if it's a boy he'll be a bad ass like his dad, huh," he asked. There was almost a glee to his voice, it was so adorable to watch him shed that panic for just a moment to fantasize about the baby. Anything. Teaching them to play guitar, taking them on their first hunt. He didn't care if it was a boy or girl. Part of you really hoped it'd be a little girl. 

“They probably won’t get any eye color until the fifth month I think,” you’d remind him, flipping through the aged pages of a baby book. "I do know if it is a boy he's gonna be so much like you."

"Unless it's a girl," he pondered, tapping your belly like it was an over ripe melon, watching it stirr with life. "Oh god you'll break so many hearts. But no boyfriends. Or girlfriends. Only dad."

"Babe thats not gonna be for years," you assured, petting his head. "You can't keep them from dating when they're old enough."

"Uh, the fuck I can't," he retorted, his hand kicked again. "Yeah I said it. No dating for you"

As they grew you could feel something was.. Off. Granted you couldn’t do much to check but, it almost felt like there was more than one heartbeat...

Your due date was slowly rolling closer as summer shed it's long, hot days for the chilled season of autumn. Tonight was a late, stormy October night. Most of Santa Carla was holed up at home hoping it wouldn’t rain tomorrow on Halloween. Paul grumbled slurping at a blood bag laying on his side as he propped his head on his hand, currently bored out of his mind while you carved at a pumpkin with Marko. 

“I think it needs more teeth,” you’d say to yourself out loud.

Marko peeked over, titling his head to the side. “More eyes too.”

All the guys decided to stay back tonight. It wasn’t just the rain, all of them were nervous to leave you alone. None of them were doctors, but even they could tell your stomach was much bigger than expected. Dwayne was flipping through an old book while David had just gotten back from a hunt. 

Ever since you hit your third trimester each of them took turns gathering blood. A few blood bags alone would not cover it for four hungry vampires and an honorary vamp who had a ton of cravings. Instead they'd carry four or five empty milk jugs that'd be filled to the brim with sloshing, goopy red fluid. 

"Guys, you oughta go get something to eat, you don't need to watch me twenty-four seven," you insist, carefully dragging the knife through the thick gourd's flesh. 

"This wasn't up for debate last time, it’s still not now," David retorted, tossing one of the jugs Dwayne's way. Marko caught a second one, eagerly knocking back a swig. The sight made you want to throw up again. It was slow, like a thick molasses dyed crimson with globs of congealed plasma. Okay looking at the pumpkin again before you had to puke. 

"Don't worry about us, Y/N," Marko insisted with red stained teeth, tossing the now half empty jug to Paul. "It's only a few more months. Blood is blood."

Paul stood up, swooping behind you with his arms around your shoulders. "Speakin' of blood kitten, you need to eat." You looked at the jug as he set it on the table and immediately scrunched up your nose. Now, it'd been seven and a half months of drinking it, so you'd gotten used to the bizarre taste of salty, vinegary cherries with a metallic aftertaste. It always made your body heat up, the feeling itself was better than any booze you'd tried. But the texture. Oh god the fricking texture! Blobby, goopy, slimy- no! 

"Uuuugh," you hesitated, only to have Marko push it towards you. “Can’t I just have a raw steak or something, it’s not nearly as gnarly as straight blood.”

"Don't be picky, you need to eat."

You glanced back at Paul who was just pouting behind you. "Come on babes, drink up."

Once again. Thick, soupy but warm fluids ran down the back of your throat. Everything felt heated, spreading from your stomach to each of your limbs. This time you felt an ache in the base of your abdomen. It was enough to incite a small gasp. And with that suddenly each of them had sat up. 

"What's wrong, what's going on," Paul quickly asked, placing a hand over your stomach. 

Marko had stood up, looking at you with a furrowed brow. "Is it-?"

"Guys, guys," you interrupt. "I'm okay, I swear. It was just a cramp."

It wasn't even a surprise when Paul lifted you up again bridal-style. "Paul,c’mon, I’m fine, really."

"Nope, nope I am not even risking that shit babes. C'mon kitten I'll lay with ya," he insisted, kicking anything on the floor out of his way. But again it ached. This time it lasted two minutes. You clung to him, trying to take a breath. This wasn’t your average false contraction that would only occur maybe every hour. "Paul- Paul it's not stopping."

"Wait wait wait what," Paul asked in rapid following, gently setting you down. Marko had gotten up to help you stand with Paul on the other side. A sharp pain wrapped around your waist. Now another two minutes. It was enough to make you double over with your hands over your stomach. 

"Shit oh shit wait hold on." Paul was in a panic. He wasn't ready! The baby wasn't supposed to be there for another month! It was too soon! 

You, on the other hand, were far too busy trying to keep yourself standing. It wasn't just your abdomen. It was your stomach, all the way up your back, your womb felt like it was being torn open from inside. Dwayne jumped over the sofa when the two blondes failed to move, lifting you up. Your jeans were soaked, sharp pains were faster, harder, any time another contraction squeeze you let out an agonized cry. 

They all made a mad dash for your room, propping you up against a pile of pillows. "No,  no wait, don't look," you insisted to the others as Paul tried to help you get your soggy jeans off.

"I'm about to help you push a baby out, and you're getting embarrassed by us seeing your underwear," Dwayne questioned

"Shut up, turn your fuckin head," Paul snapped. Carefully he draped a blanket over your legs, pulling off your jeans. There was utter fear across his face. He was so afraid of what this could do to you.

 "Hey.. its okay," you assured him, cupping his face. Well, okay was a bit of an overstatement. Still, the tender touch seemed to provide some small ease as he placed his hand over yours. Again, you assured him it'd all be okay. Marko came running in with a bucket of warm water, David was grumbling about carrying over a mountain of towels, Dwayne leaned over Paul tapping him hard on the back of his shoulder. "Paul you need to check how dilated she is."

"WHAT?"

It was time for both of you chiming in disbelief. "No no, wait Dwayne man, I can't-!"

"If she pushes before she's ready, the baby will get hurt in the process," he interrupted him, grabbing Paul by his shoulders. "You gotta do it, man, I can't do it for you."

"The fuck, why me?!"

"Paul?!" It was your turn to question his logic and the blonde threw up his hands, clutching at his head trying to think.

"I'm sorry! I'm panicking!"

"Dude Paul," Marko shouted.

"What?!"

"Listen, man, this can't be good for either of them. Nut up, dude," he assured him, patting his back. Paul looked at you, still trembling on your bed. You were just as scared as him, bottom lip trembling, he could even see your shoulders shaking. "...okay…" 

The feeling was so uncomfortable. You couldn't even focus between the throbbing pains that shot up your back and the tearing pull between your legs. Tears burned your eyes, you thought you might pass out. Marko was rapidly wiping away sweat from your face, letting you hold his hand. Even if you broke it, unlikely, it'd heal in an hour anyways. 

"Okay how many fingers can you manage," Dwayne asked, getting a strange look from Paul. "Just tell me how many, you asshole.:

"It's like, all my fingers man I dunno what that means."

"Go to her man, I got this," he assured, pushing him up to you. Paul climbed up on the bed beside you holding you tightly in his arms with your shoulder nestled against his armpit with one arm over your shoulder and the other you immediately snatched his hand, panting rapidly. "Shh slow down baby, slow down."

"God it fucking hurts," you whine, throwing your head back on the pillow. Blood stained the bed, a thick pink-red spot on the blanket spreading out. Your face was completely flushed as a tight pressure slowly dragged down your back that made your toes curl. If Paul wasn't pinning you in place you would be writhing. There was a horrid fire in your body, there were no words left in you, only screams. Dwayne's urges to push were muffled, the ache in you back slowly pulled lower until you were able to hear them. A thick gurgle followed by high pitched, raspy wailing. While Dwayne had pulled the infant into a thick, fluffy towel something felt wrong. It still hurt. Your stomach felt no relief, in fact you felt it pull and ache again. "Wa...wait i.. no it's-it's not done, I'm not done," you whimper in a panic.

"Wait what the hell do you mean you aren’t done?! I thought there was just one?!”

Paul looked over at Dwayne, who in turn ran to David and passed the swaddled newborn his way much to his dismay. “Just hold them for a minute man, we weren’t exactly expecting more!

“I got it,” Marko volunteered, climbing off to bed to hold the baby carefully in his grasp. Your screams tore through, a second wave of pain reviving old agony. There was little relief as the same horrid tension in your back spread out. Paul coaxed you through it, but somehow it hurt even worse than before.

“No,” you cried, shaking your head. Your face burned, tears streaming down your face leaving your vision completely blurry. “No no no, I can’t, let me go! I can't, I can’t! Paul, I can’t-!”

“Baby, listen you can do this! You got this, yes you fucking do,” he yelled over you holding your head to his shoulder. “Listen to me. C’mon you fucking got this, kitten! Don’t you give up, don’t you dare fucking give up now!”

With everything you had you screamed until your throat felt raw, pushing as hard as you could until finally, finally… it stopped. A huge wave of relief made your muscles go limp. Two. You just had given birth. To twins. The realization had finally hit Paul asw he looked up at Marko still holding his first born. “Are they…”

“Dude, you got a girl,” he beamed, carefully passing the swollen new born half-awake clinging to the towel. Occasionally her grey eyes squinted open, making trembling whimpers until she nestled back into sleep.

You managed to catch your breath, Marko helping you lay down while Dwayne circled around with your son. A boy too. You couldn’t help but laugh through tears, finally able to see his face after so many months of waiting. Paul couldn’t even hold back tears, laughing like an idiot as he pulled you both in his arms. “Fuck man… oh shit I’m a fucking dad,” he choked out, trying to hide his tears.

“Let it out man,” Marko teased, patting his shoulders.

“Shit man I can't stop crying... they’re so perfect.” Paul ran a hand gently over his son’s head still softly crying in your arms, watching him soothed as he clung to his finger. He looked you in the eyes, both of you just in utter awe that you brought not one, but two lives to the world. Nothing but tears and smiles between you. It was October 31st, 2 am, and you had spent the past four and a half hours of Hell to bring your twins (Girl Name) and (Boy name). Paul could not even fathom the amount of love he was feeling, trailing kisses all over your lips and cheeks. “Happy Halloween, kitten.”

You couldn’t help but laugh, laying your head back against his chest just unable to tear your eyes away from your beautiful new family after so many hours of grueling pain, so much waiting, in the end it was worth more than either of you had ever dreamed.

 “Happy Halloween, babe…”

#lost boys 1987 #lost boys imagine #the lost boys #lost boys fanfiction #lost boys #fanfiction #fanfiction writing #fanfic #lost boys paul #80s movies #lost boys drama #lost boys dwayne #lost boys david #lost boys marko #childbirth #childbearing #vampire drama #lost boys vampires #vampire pregnancy #vampire boys #vampires #vampire #vampire birth #vampire baby #dramatic #vampire fluff #fluff #halloween season #halloween #halloween birth

[buccigang-headcanons]

La Squadra Backstories!!!! Stream of consciousnesss style!

So literally I just sat down and wrote down exactly what I thought. I have not edited these at all lmaooo. But I made long drawn out backstories for our underrated assassins so enjoy!!

T/W + C/W - idk I talk about people dying in a lot of ways. Child abuse, drugs, severe illness, dead cats. This stuff is a mess I really didn’t censor it. But nothing is described in detail cuz I’m too lazy for that.

————

Prosciutto cuz he’s at the top of my mind. Mmkay he and Pesci are brothers but not by blood. Pro was an orphan, I still wanna make him Russian, and pesci’s extremely kind and gentle family adopted him when he was like 7. They were like literally a garden catalogue family. Perfection. The parents died when pro was like 15, Pesci was 13?? Idk the age difference I’m just making shit up now. And Pesci had no fucking idea what to do, they didn’t have any other family, and pro was like “I’m still basically a hardened criminal from living on the streets of russia most of my childhood, so joining the local mafia should be a piece of cake”. It was.

Risotto..... fuck it. Polpo is risottos dad. I’ve seen that so much and fuck it I’m here for it now. Idk how I feel about the whole Mariah from part 3 being his mom that seems too coincidental. But either way, he is half Spanish. I don’t think he’s ever been in touch with his Spanish roots at all, but that’s what he is. Polpo had too much fun on vacay in Spain. But it was a once night stand and polpo, a skinny king back in the mid 70s, fucked off to do mafia stuff and didn’t know about this kid. Risotto never knew his father. Time goes by, about the time he’s 10, rizzo’s mom moves to Italy to find the man she once loved. Since the 70s, she has been married and divorced 4 times, disowned by her entire family, and she speaks only of Polpo, the man who swept her off her feet and then disappeared into the night. Leaving only this child with his matching eyes. So they live in Italy, risotto is about 13 now and his mom has been searching seriously for polpo for about 3 years. One day, she gets too close, mafia takes her out. Risotto is all alone in a country he has lived in for less than 3 years. So he decides to take revenge against the mafia. He goes to hunt them down. (I’m too lazy to write out how. Gets a gun. Basically the scene in part 5 where the kid is like “you killed my father and now I’m gonna kill you!!” But he chickens out???) yeah except rizzo didn’t chicken out, he stood firm and killed 2 of them. The other 2 surrendered, and immediately asked rizzo to take polpos test. He did. And he unknowingly met his father, the man his mother had died looking for. He stared into his fathers eyes, black sclera reflecting each other, and passed his test with ease.

Wowwwwwwwww alrighty then that was something. Let’s shake out those jitters because fuck that was intense and let’s move onto some happy shit.

Melone!! Always a bottle of joy. He was a phenomenal student, a perfect child. Perfect grades, perfect attitude, perfect looks. Onlyyyy tiny thing is he murdered cats and buried their heads in the back yard. But that was his only flaw. Aaaaaaaand mayyybe trying to use his extensive knowledge of molecular biology and genetics (even at as young as 11) to asexually breed said cats.

But, apart from that, absolutely perfect specimen of a young boy. And he kept that up until college. Until the rape accusation. Melone had no interest in having sex with her, he swore under oath in open court, he only wanted to “extract her essence” in the hopes of making her amazing genetics stay pure for centuries.

Due to his previously amazing school record, he was allowed to plead not guilty by reason of insanity (because the justice system is bullshit) and was released to his parents. During this whole process, Melone’s mother had begun to grow suspicious of her son, wondering if there was something wrong with him. This led her to explore the crawl space under the garage, more commonly known as “Melone’s childhood laboratory”. The cat skulls alone were enough to set her off. They allowed him into their home long enough to fool the court, but parole officers don’t pay attention, and they kicked him to the curb a month later. Broke, alone, and with no real skills other than his genius mind and gorgeous body, he became a prostitute. It was only a few months before he wandered up to a gigantic white haired man with angry eyes and asked if he wanted a date. Instead of declining, our good ol rizzo just knocked him out cold and brought him home. The rest is history. Literally because I can’t think of what would happen between that and Melone joining the mafia. I assume he was just their house pet for a little while before he decided he wanted a stand too.

Oh good lord these are getting insane. Better keep going. Okay I have no idea what’s about to come out of my head for ghia but oh Lordy. Might as well start. Ghiaccio wasn’t always quite as angry, but it’s actually gonna be a sweet story. Kinda. He used to act perfect, even tho he always felt the anger inside. He was forced to bottle it up and put on a happy exterior always. His mother was Belgian. (From experience, Belgian mothers (Flemish in particular) will beat you until your ass is raw if you talk back). Italian father, they lived in italy. He had 4 sisters, he was the middle child of 5. Around high school, he started acting out. Of course this was due to all of his bottled up anger from the past 15 years. 4 shattered sinks, 16 holes in the drywall, and one classroom fire later, Ghiaccio was expelled from school. His parents were too busy brimming with joy about the success of all his sisters that they didn’t take much notice to him. “If you’re going to behave in such a manner you might as well leave” his mother said. She was past the point of caring enough to beat him. So he left. 16 and with no where to go, he wandered the streets. After a year or so, Ghia had gotten used to that life, and was angry at everyone, sometimes when he wasn’t even angry. Anger had become his coping mechanism. Screaming was easier than talking. Until one day, he screamed at a blonde man in an intersection. Prosciutto was driving back to the squads hang out, boxes of takeout in the back seat of the car. He had chosen to not stop at the red light, just for fun, and nearly ran into our blue haired teenager. Ghia proceeded to cuss him out for a good 4 minutes in the middle of this intersection before pro cut him off. “Get in the back. “ he said, with his own special brand of brotherly love. “I know how you can put that anger to good use”. Ghiaccio, having no real reason to object, got in the back seat. Prosciutto was silent the rest of the drive and Ghiaccio yelled about all the take out food, now splattered on the backs of the seats due to the sudden slam on the brakes.

Y’all I don’t even remember the other la squadra members. Let’s do sorbet/gelato because they have zero backstory or personality so I can just ramble. *Clears throat* let’s begin. These fuckers. Friends since birth. Grew up together, always really close. They were both dirt poor, but because the only school nearby was a decent public school, when were able to slightly experience middle class living. They liked it. They wanted to see upper class, and once they did, they wanted to be there. These two were money grubbing bffs, I’m talking josuke and okuyasu, but like waaaaay more intense and also violent. They both left home around 14, together of course. Gelatos father had left them a few years prior, and his family were on the brink of starvation. Figuring they didn’t need another mouth to feed (and completely abandoning his post as family patriarch lol) he left with sorbet, who’s family had all died in various ways over the years. Most recently, his older sister being taken by some illness that was probably easily treatable, but with no means for a doctor, she died in days. The boys left home and school, and made a living by pickpocketing tourists and occasionally launching into larger heists. They made a decent living for themselves, but eventually started spending their money on drugs. It’s was sorbet first, heroin was really good to him for awhile. Gelato was against it, knowing it was the reason sorbets family had been so poor to begin with. His father was an addict, and despite holding down a job fairly well, spent all his earnings on drugs. Eventually he became too dependent, lost his job, and OD’d. But around this same time, when the boys were 16/17, they were starting to realize their feelings for each other. Confused teenaged minds full of budding love led to Gelato giving in, and soon their days were filled with heroin fueled ecstatic sex. They lived like this for awhile, existing in half reality, until one day they chose to set their pickpocketing targets on a short man with close cropped gray hair. The plan was perfect, sorbet bumped into the man and gelato passed by to grab his wallet, and suddenly they were the size of mere ants. In an instant, they were returned to size, left to wonder if it was real or just a hallucination from long term drug use. But they didn’t run. Formaggio introduced himself, with a loose handshake and a pause to spit out some tobacco, and promptly invited them to a “party”. Although, Formaggio was honest in his promise, this party did have drugs.

Cheese boys turn!! Seriously who am I forgetting??? Illuso my mirror man! Am I forgetting someone else too?? Idk. But shut up Kel it’s cheese boys turn.

So. Formaggio. Probably the most chill childhood. Lower middle class, pretty average, but he was quite gifted with sports. Soccer was his main, and also a fantastic competitive swimmer. (Okay I have a separate hc that Bruno is really good at soccer so hol horse up a moment so I can imagine those 2 playing soccer together in friendly competition. In my lil au where Bruno is in la squadra because I say BruPro exes rights please and thanks.) but anyway, he got really good at soccer and was offered a scholarship to play at a fancy pants private high school when he was 14. Of course his parents made him go, this has been the family’s dream for years, and formaggio’s as well. So high school is amazing, he’s starting to attract attention from universities even tho he’s barely in grade 11 by this point. And it’s all really amazing until he realizes. This isn’t what he wants. And it’s just that. He doesn’t want to play soccer anymore, he doesn’t want to potentially be famous. He just wants to be a kid. So he leaves school, he leaves home, he wants to start over. And he wanders into a diner and sees this small group of weirdly dressed men. At this point, it’s rizzo, pro, Pesci, and ghia. And he’s staring at them because they’re dressed like circus clowns but their aura is so murderous. And then the one who looks like a giant pineapple starts staring back. Pesci gets up and walks over to Formaggio. “I know you! You’re that amazing kid soccer player!!” And he just goes on and on about shit he read in the news (70% of it was false) until pro comes over and yanks his idiot brother away. Pro starts asking Formaggio questions, thinking he could be a good target. Stupid little rich kid. But to prosciuttos surpise, Formaggio is just a down to earth kid with no more money to his name than he needs to pay for this meal. Prosciutto takes him home after that. He doesn’t really offer any explanation.

(The rambling at the beginning of this paragraph actually happened lol so I paused for like 4 hrs oops)

Alright we are back. Had to leave to go to therapy and then scream at my mother and cry to my boyfriend but we are ready to go! Illuso and I really hope he’s the last one and I’m not forgetting one. Illuso was raised in an orphanage from infancy. No idea who his parents could even be. Fun fact: one of the nuns at the orphanage (cuz it’s an orphanage in Italy in 1980, they’re catholic.) nicknamed him Illuso because he was always pointing at things that weren’t there. As a tiny baby and a child, he would always be looking at things no one else can see (yes illuso is a natural stand user fight me). The nuns called him illuso as an insult, hoping to shame him into stopping. He never did. When he outgrew the orphanage, he decided to join the priesthood. He was 19, a priest in training, when the mafia came to the orphanage. They were collecting, and illuso knew they didn’t have the money this month. He tried to talk the mobsters down, but that went about as well as planned. 4 bullets to the chest, 3 open heart surgeries, and half a dozen resuscitations later, Illuso was released from the hospital. The orphanage had been shut down, and no one knew what had happened to the children or the nuns. With no where to go, illuso knew of one place that could use talents like his. The talents of steadily stealing money from the starving children of the church for a decade. It was during polpos test that illuso’s stand manifested. Not due to the arrow, but to protect its user from the other stand. Illuso was able to avoid Black Sabbath by hiding in his newfound mirror world until it was time to return the lighter to polpo (kinda cowardly but whatever.) he was assigned to risottos group by chance and was the last to join excluding Melone. But they loved him as if they had found him themselves.

#jojo's bizarre adventure #vento aureo #golden wind #la squadra #Melone #ghiaccio #Formaggio #illuso #sorbet #gelato #risotto Nero #prosciutto #Pesci #jojo part 5 #jjba

[hitsuackerman]

Unpredictable (Overhaul x Reader) pt.19

a/n: so... uhh... nothing much happens here but the last part is worth it :’) i guess? hope ya’ll like this nonetheless! 

warnings: this cannot be read solo

Links: part 1, part 2, part 3, part 4, part 5, part 6, part 7, part 8, part 9, part 10, part 11, part 12, part 13, part 14, part 15, part 16, part 17, part 18, part 20

Masterlist to my other fics: here :)

Overhaul’s waiting list: @jjk-biased @infinite-universe-love @dirtypride @blackymomo03 @azzie @purple-rabanito​ @meximorrita @awesomeee19​​ @celestial-kanzakii​ @laure-lo​ @team-wang-puppy​ @aydience-world​ @choros-main-hoe​ @colorseeingchick​  @but-kairis-not-that-smart (i cant seem to tag again :( hope this lands in your timelines!)

Two days since that fated encounter with Chronostasis, you were now left with a vacant rest day. And where better place to spend it than with Dr. Hanayaka. Setting an appointment with him, as he liked to call it, you were tasked to help with the blood pressure for each patient he had. Luckily, his schedule wasn’t that straining.

“So you mean to say, his henchman met with you in secret?” Gei asked and raised an eyebrow. With his stethoscope resting on his shoulder and white coat on, it was sometimes hard to believe that this flamboyant man was a well respected doctor. “And handed you trash man’s sim card?”

“Yeah. I’ve already checked the contents of the sim and there’s not a lot to go on.” Aside from your messages, the contents of his inbox were that of an average man’s. Expecting some tea about his trade or even important numbers of other villains, you had to think whether or not Chrono deleted some or not.

“And what about that plan of yours, hmm?” Gei fixed his eyelashes before staring back at you. “What if it backfires and Chrono takes the blame?”

“He won’t. My instructions were clear and I set a time frame as well. Just something to please the heroes for setting me up.”

“You movin over to the dark side, baby girl?”

“Just balancing things out.” You shrugged. “Levi made it clear that they shouldn’t interfere with my relationship with Overhaul. Even though I’m on justice’s side, I still want to tip the scales a bit due to personal reasons.”

“Wouldn’t your badge and title be removed if they found out? And why in Todrick’s name are you so chill with this topic?! Are you certain you don’t have a bug on you?” Your friend eyed you down so quickly. Worried that policemen might end up barging inside his office.

“Don’t worry. I’m wearing new clothes so there’s no way they can. Besides, I’m being as cautious as ever. Seriousness aside, I do have some information you might want to feast on.” You smirked at the mental image of a maskless Chrono.

“Spill…” Gei shifted in his seat and leaned in closer. The look on your face only meant one thing.

“Okay, so Overhaul’s right hand man was the one who met me right? Well~ He took off his mask and I will have to admit the man looked hella fine~”

“Describe! Describe!”

“For starters, he has bluish-gray eyes. Though he looks like he wants to kill a person right there and then, he probably could since his jaw was rather prominent. His voice without the mask is different too.” You watched as Gei listened with such focus. “But, if I were to be honest, describing him doesn’t do him good. He looks really handsome.”

“Why is it always the villains who look good?” Gei commented with a pout. “Hawks aside, because that man is something else, but they just hit different you know?”

“That’s true. Shame they have to wear those masks, though.”

“On the contrary, I think it’s good that they do. Otherwise they’d have to endure the wrath of fan girls.”

“Right. Also feels good when they trust you enough to show what’s behind the mask.” Nodding at your own statement, the memory of having lunch with Overhaul came back. With no given warning, he took off his mask and casually drank water. Realizing that he had done it on purpose, a tiny smile formed on your mouth.

“If you miss him that bad, just call him.”

“He changed numbers and I’m not that desperate to ask Chrono for it. Nao said in due time he’ll contact me but the chances of that are negative.”

“Honey, it’s the modern era. Women aren’t as shy as they were before. If you want something, go and get it. If it is a guy’s new number, then go ahead. It’s not just men who make the first move. And besides, I think Overhoe would be surprised if you just suddenly ring his doorbell.”

“You do realize, I do not have the same confidence as you.”

“Fake it till you make it, boo.” He snapped his fingers in a z-formation.

“You’ve been watching Soopernatural again, haven’t you?”

“Okay, first off, Jenred Padackles is a god and I would worship his feet. Second, that show has references to everything and you can’t deny that.”

“Yeah, you’re right.” Standing up from the sofa, you stretched your limbs. “Anyway, I gotta scram.”

“Where you headin’ off to missy?”

“I have to meet up with Nao regarding the Fukuo Kai case.”

“But it’s your day off. Get a life and do something else other than work, (n/n).” Gei threw a pen to your direction but you dodged it effortlessly. “Don’t make me tell your father.”

“It’s only for a few minutes. It’s in preparation for tomorrow.” Not bothering to wait, you exited the room and sofly closed the doors to his office. Time spent with Gei was always an eye opener. However, it still wasn’t enough for you to stoop so low and ring his doorbell.

Making your way out of the hospital, you took a quick stop to the vending machines and chose a cold cafe au lait. Perfect for the hot and humid weather Japan had to offer. Feeling the cold liquid running down your throat was amazing and within seconds, you downed the whole drink. Tossing the empty bottle to the recycle bin, a gust of wind caused you to lose balance.

“Oh no.”

“Oh yes.”

“I have a meeting to attend to Hawks.” Hawks took his visors off and ruffled his wings. Offering to buy him a drink, he chose a tetra pack of  apple juice. Walking to the vacant bench, you followed him and decided that perhaps his visit would be worth it. “So what did the bird hear today?”

“Twice and Toga Himiko.”

“League of-” Then it hit you. “I see. Since when?”

“Yesterday. One of my informants saw them entering the base and left late at night. They didn’t look too happy about it, though.” Lowering his headphones, he ruffled his hair and stared at the clear blue skies. “Do what you will with this information. Just thought I’d let you know.”

“How and why do you even bother?”

“I work for the HPSC dove. If I don’t want them getting in my head, I gotta kick their crotches first.”

“That’s not the best analogy.”

“Still works though.” He winked and put on his headphones and visors back. Standing up, he offered a hand and you accepted it. Tailing you, Hawks was now opening the door for your car. “And one more thing, another of my birdies caught the scent of the quirk erasing bullets nearing its completion stages. Probably 80% now.”

“That’s fast.” You had to admit.

“Heard he’s been pissed. Be careful baby bird.” Hawks closed your door and saluted before flying off.

80%? That was enough information to speed up the Shie Hassaikai raid. Reaching out for your bag, you took the burner phone you recently purchased and reread each message the both of you exchanged. With two League of Villains now part of the yakuza, the possibility of casualties was much higher now.

Within minutes, you were now on the road. Fingers tightly wrapping the steering wheel. Your thumb bouncing with growing guilt at choosing to hide what Hawks had just said. Of course this wasn’t to ensure his victory, it was to even the field, right? It was the pettiness taking over you and Nighteye going against his words. It had to be.

Turning towards the precinct, you saw your designated parking area. The basement parking was a bit crowded today.

Heading towards the meeting room Tsukauchi had prepared for the small info sharing, you greeted fellow coworkers and kept conversation till you disappeared around the corner. Not too long after, you were now fiddling with your fingers. Basking in the silence till the doors opened revealing your partner and Shinezu. Both men took their seats and commenced the meeting.

“So, Shinezu will be tagging along.” He nodded at your coworker who seemed to be trembling at the thought. “It’ll do you good, Shinez. Trust me.”

“I-I know, Tsukau-kun.” He adjusted his tie, loosening it a bit. “I just think I’m not cut out for this mission you know? I do better behind the scenes.”

“While I believe that’s true, the 4th division works best when you’re around.”

“That’s true.” You agreed. Shinezu may not be the most social cookie out there but his brain was close to Namase. He also had the knack of coming up with solutions when things went wrong. All he needed was to amp his social skills. “We all know the 4th division leader is weak for you.”

“Not t-true.”

“All too true. You’ll be fine, Shinez. Have I ever lied to you?”

When the raven-haired man finally nodded his head, Tsukauchi cleared his throat and relayed the plans for tomorrow. It was the standard undercover data gathering in your books.

“So, to recap, the 4th division will be handling the snooping and we’ll remain on guard should all else fail?” You repeated the information given. Tsukauchi scratched his chin and nodded. Confirming that you had fully understood his message. “All this should happen within 5 hours. Got it. That’s quite cramped but manageable.”

“5 hours was the only allotted time I could fit in.” He scratched his nape and looked away. “You were right when I had to take it slow with my cases.”

“I’m not one to comment~” Waving the conversation aside, you stood up and the others followed.

With the short meeting now over, Tsukauchi and you were now seated in the break room. Cups of coffee present as you exchanged more information about your days and current mission. For a brief moment, despite him not being a part of the Shie Hassaikai Raid, you wanted to pour every single information you had just gained from Hawks. The lingering guilt was much more present now.

“You’re spacing out.” He snapped his fingers in front of you. “You alright?”

“Aside from the growing problem of trashman, I’m fine. Just a lot on my mind.” Taking a sip from your coffee, the usual taste of bitterness was strong today. “Nothing to worry about~”

“You should go home, (n/n). I already took up a portion of your time. Any more and I might drown from embarrassment.”

“That’s gross. Even coming from you.” Kicking him from under the table, the two of you laughed before chugging the remaining drops of coffee. “I will take that offer though. Need me some beauty sleep before shit happens again. See ya!”

Hours had passed and you were now stuffing your face with chips. He was right when he said you had purchased too much but you weren’t complaining. The movie playing now was one of your favorites, Prisoner. Gake Jyllenhall was divine in this movie. It was always the twist of the movie that kept you watching it over and over again.

“I wonder if we had watched this… would the wall pinning  happen?” You thought out loud. Shaking your thoughts away from him, you stopped the movie and stored the chips.

Now that you were settled in bed, Overhaul’s jacket rested on top of you. By now, his scent had disappeared and was now replaced by yours. Grabbing your phone, you opened the messaging app and clicked on a certain conversation. Rereading his messages was not the best idea but at least you would be able to relive whatever memories you had created.

Glancing at your desk calendar, in just two months time, you would meet him again. Would things still be the same? Or would things go back to the way they were? Tucking your phone under the unused pillow, you willed yourself to sleep and surprisingly succeeded.

Waking up not so refreshed happened again. But, nothing out of the ordinary. Not being a morning person, you dragged your body away from the bed and began the necessary clothes. Deciding to just buy breakfast, it took you less than an hour to lock your doors and head over to the parking lot.

Making your way up the steps, you met up with Shinezu.

“You look like shit, Shinez.” You teased him. “Take a chill pill.”

“I already did. But it’s still not working. This would be the first case in a while where I’ll interact with others.” Leading the way, the both of you were now walking through the empty hallways. The sounds of your footsteps muffled by the cheap carpeted floors. “How do you guys even manage to survive situations like these?”

“By taking it one step at a time~” Not the best advice for someone who’s socially challenged but it is what it is.

Opening the doors for you, the both of you entered the room and took your designated seats. A bunch of people from the 4th division were now present. Tsukauchi had not yet arrived but it was still early so it was excusable. Exchanging a few small talk, you caught up with what the 4th division was up to till the doors finally opened.

“Good morning everyone.” Tsukauchi greeted. Feet glued to his spot. His eyesight focused on you. “Before we head out, we have a special guest joining us.”

“Holy shit.” Shinezu uttered under his breath.

- - - - -

a/n: shits bout to go down again! I would like to take this time to thank each one of you who take the time to read this! Unpredictable was supposedly a 10 chapter story but we bout to reach 20 now! i cant really respond to your comments as much but i read all of ‘em and they always make my day :’) my schedule has just been very hectic these days huhu and yeas that ends my rant~ see ya’ll next week! :* and yes, the waiting list is still open :)

#overhaul x reader #overhaul #bnha overhaul #mha overhaul #chisaki kai x reader #bnha chisaki kai #mha chisaki kai #chisaki kai #bnha chisaki

[superconfusedandreadytorumble]

It is the 23rd July, 2021. The summer heats have finally subsided, the morrows now cool giving us normal folk the ability to catch a breather before the work begins anew. The harvest is-

Yeah no, enough of this. It is the day it is but truth be told all this post is supposed to be is an answer to my darling @laninlurks who has tagged me back in March and did not even have the decency to tell me personally! Yeah girl, how dare you! You know I´m not tech-savvy, I´m old. Well at least I feel like it in my head...

So here I go, playing this little game (this is considered a game, right? I have absolutely no idea. I´ve seen this kind of “introduce yourself” thingies here on tumblr but this is the first time I´m participating. Thanks again LANIN!)

Well, let´s get over this:

Name/Nickname: uhhhhh... Yeah, no I know how this goes. Name equals power so you fae can forget it, I ain´t buying this. You shall have no power over me. Ha! As if I´d fall for such a cheap trick. Hahaha! Nah, but on a serious note I really did not think of anything what people coul call me here... I guess Superconfused works?

Gender: female

Height: 5´8″ (thank you Google for converting cm to feet and inches)

Time: 2.55pm

Favourite Bands: Okay, let me stop you guys right there. I´m not going to go posting a ton of different band names because my music taste is very eclectic and most of the time I either do not know the name of the song/band that I´m into. If I hear it and my brain starts projecting a story it´s a good song for me.

Favourite solo artist: *looks up to the previous point* Yeah, you guys get the message

Song stuck in my head: Ohhh now that is easy! It is currently a mix between “A whole new World” from Aladdin (1992), “Save your Tears” by The Weekend feat. Ariana Grande, “Plastic Hearts” by Miley Cyrus and “Racing into the Night” by YOASOBI

Last Movie: The Avengers: Endgame

Last Show: Loki

When did I create this blog: Good heavens, I have absolutely no idea... Lanin, you´ll probably know that... can I check this somewhere? Somehow? Eh... let´s leave it at that, I have no  clue... may have been 2 or 3 years ago

How it started: After ages of going around and sending myself link after link so I would not lose sight of great posts and until my email inbox was full, I finally decided to make myself an account. That is it. That´s the story.

How´s it going: *looks around* Good, I guess? I mean, I´m still here, so...

What I post: Ufffffffff. Everything and anything that touches or inspires me, I guess? The content here that I reblog is as eclectic as my music tastes. We got witchy stuff, fandom stuff, quotes, life lessons, you name it. I did finally get around to making an additional blog to reblog all of the wonderful pieces of fan content here and leave a comment because till now I have been very neglectful of that. But that is another story...

Aesthetic: Personal? Blog related? I have absolutely no idea... Next question please.

Last thing I googled: That would be the conversion of cm to feet, but if that does not count then it was an anatomical picture of the hymen. There was a conversation ging on in the family and I had to explain the location. It was much easier with visuals, I tell you.

Other blogs: And I just mentioned mine two paragraphs ago xD Well then there´s the @studyblr-beginner where I try to collect info on how to be a more productive student (with mixed efforts I might add) and the @stillconfusedandreadytorumble .

Following: Anything witchblr, studyblr, any blog that feeds into my current obsession of any fandom, cottagecore, academia be it light/romantic/dark, quotes, art, etc. Seriously, anything...

Followers: Eh, I think 2 or 3 poor misguided souls... Yeah, okay so I checked and apparently there´s 44 of you. 44!!!! Like guys, guys, are you okay? What are you doing here? Not that I´m not grateful but I´m also very very VERY confused right now... Hi?

Average sleep: 7 hours, if I have time to sleep in even more

Lucky number: I do not really believe in that... Although if I see a platenumber with three identical numbers beside each other I take it as a good omen

Instruments: I may have tried to learn the piano years ago but it was never really my thing

What I am wearing: an oversized shirt with the wolf medallion logo form “The Witcher” series, black shorts and a dark green dressing gown with flowers and pretty little humming birds. Yes, I´m in my sleep wear. No, I am not ashamed. The last couple of days have been hell, I´m still recuperating.

Dream job: Physician, and I´m working hard to get that damn doctors degree.

Favourite animal noise: wolves howling. That moment when it sends chills down your back, when the hairs on your arms stand? Love it and it gets me every time.

Random: If asked a question I start stuttering and mumbling and warbled bla-bla just comes out of my mouth until I try collecting my thoughts. That may take a couple of seconds though.

Dream trip: Japan, Prague, Venice, these three are from the top of my head but otherwise I´d like to travel and see the world. Yes, vague, I know but the world is big and nobody has time to write long lists about this.

Favourite food: Dumplings. Do not, I repeat, do not make me specify which dumplings cause I´ll eat or at least ry them all if given the change. I already diviate from my normal answer of “There is so much good stuff out there, I could never choose”, okay?

Nationality: Welp, before I make this any more complicated I´ll just stick to what is in my passport: AUSTRIAN 

Favourite song: May I refer you back to the paragraph that says Favourite Band/solo singer, please and thank you.

Last book I read: “Alice´s Adventures in Wonderland” by Lewis Carroll

Top 3 fictional universes I would like to live in: Currently it would be either Lord of the Rings, Witcher or Boku no hero academia. Ask me in 3 months and I bet with you that answer might have changed again.

Tagging: Oh boy... who am I supposed to tag that will not shoot me on sight or think of me being a total lunatic, @laninlurks you don´t count, after all you put me in this mess... Who are the last couple of ppl I had a conversation with? Oh okay, if you guys don´t want to do this, just scratch and ignore that but then again all of my 44 followers are very welcome to do this (still can´t warp my head around the amount of ppl). I´ll just tagg @lostoctaviaaugusta and @thewhit3w0lf , but again please don´t shoot on sigth. I promise I´m harmless.

Okay guys, whoever made it this far, I applaud you, cause really you deserve a medal. thank you for reading I guess and have a wonderful day.

Hugs and kisses!

#get to know me #tagg game #rambling