#i also remember vividly a time in high school when i was crying under a desk because i was going to turn 18

[bogkeep]

since there's an impressionist royal portrait in the zeitgeist right now, do you wanna hear about one of my fav norwegian oil painters........ his name is håkon gullvåg and he's painted portraits of the norwegian king and queen and they look like this

which were pretty controversial at the time (the year 2000), but i was too baby to know anything about it!

(the headline says "UNDIGNIFIED!")

i first heard of him when he was on the news for a completely different controversy around the years 2008/2009 - his exhibition titled 'the holy land'/'terra sancta' which was a series of paintings he had painted in a wild unstoppable rage over the injustices he had seen palestinians suffer. at one of the exhibitions in syra, two of the paintings got removed by the french embassy, and i think never returned to him? i'm finding it surprisingly difficult to hunt down the story without knowing exactly what to look for, but i did dig up this article. i was still a young teen at the time so i didn't know much about the context, but in recent times i've been thinking about these paintings a lot. i'll add the Controversial Paintings under the cut:

[limitless-haven]

Those Ocean Eyes

Synopsis: When you’re called upon by Tokyo Jujutsu High for an opportunity to study under the renowned Shoko Ieiri, you gladly accept the offer, leaving behind your old school. Here you start your new adventure, excited to learn and see where this life will take you, but what you don’t account for is that here is also where you truly fall in love for the first time.

Satoru Gojo is a charismatic enigma that captures your heart right away. As time goes on, you come to truly understand the pain behind those ocean eyes of his. The scariest part? His truth doesn’t terrify you like he expected it to. If anything it makes you fall more intense for him. You want to help shoulder the burden of his pain for the man you’ve come to love.

Word Count: 4.4k

Warnings: Just some very light flirting

A/N: Hello! This is my first time posting here. I've been a silent reader/reactor but decided to give it a go! Please let me know what you think so far and if I should continue. All feedback is greatly appreciated.

***This is a slow burn. Eventually there will be some spicy scenes but I will give a warning before hand.

***This story does contain elements, scenes, and dialog from the manga/anime.

***This story was influenced by the song Ocean Eyes by Billie Eilish. Every time I hear the song, I cant help but think of Gojo and what a complex character he is. He is such a lovable character who deserves the world. Honestly, I could cry right now thinking about it.

***This is also posted to my AO3 account under the name “kookie0807”

Chapter 1: Pretty Girl

Just like your parents, you attend Kyoto Jujutsu High. Your dad was a cursed technique user and your mom is a teacher of cursed techniques. Your father was killed in battle by a curse a couple of years ago leaving behind a grieving wife and a devastated daughter.

From that moment on, you wanted nothing more than to pour yourself into learning about your own cursed technique. It just so happens that what you possess is the ability to use reverse curse techniques, a rare find among Jujutsu sorcerers. To your knowledge, there is only one other person who is capable of using the same technique as you, and her name is Shoko Ieiri. She just so happens to be an astounding doctor on top of that, which is why you look up to her so much. You’ve dreamed about being able to get to poke her brain about your shared ability. But as cruel as fate would have it, she’s the doctor for the only other jujutsu school, Tokyo Jujutsu High.

Hearing about everything Shoko can do, made you want to learn about your own ability that much more. She had mastered her technique seemingly overnight, hell maybe she was just born with it. But you? You haven’t been able to attain the ability on Shokos level. Rumor has it, she could regenerate a missing limb from a person and more. Yes, you could help with healing surface-level wounds and a broken bone or two but what you are absolutely itching to do is have the ability to bring someone back from death if needed.

This all started when your father died in battle. If you were just stronger, and more advanced in your technique, you could have possibly saved him. It eats you up that you couldn’t save your father, you were so close yet so far off from unlocking the true potential of your reverse cursed technique. When you saw your father cut in half, you poured every ounce of your cursed energy into trying to save his life but to no avail. You vividly remember sitting in the morgue as your father’s body lay on the cold, metal, embalming table. You remember the heartbreaking guttural cry coming from your mother’s lips as you exited the morgue, covered from head to toe in his blood. That is a sound that will forever haunt you. A sound no human should ever make. A sound so piercing to the human soul. You couldn’t look up at her, you could barely see the floor as you walked out due to the tears, your ears were ringing and you just felt cold. You collapsed on the floor but your mother was there to catch you. You cried and cried into your mother’s arms as she cried along with her baby girl.

Your mother went through a really bad depression for the next couple of years. There was nothing you could do but give her support, how do you help someone who’s lost the love of their life? It was a challenging time but you two managed to get through it together. Seeing your mom so heartbroken, so utterly miserable, it made something inside of you snap. You never wanted to experience this again with anyone.

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

You’re sitting in on a lecture your mother was giving some underclassmen about cursed techniques. While the information was vital to the up-and-coming new sorcerers, you’ve heard it before. If you’re being completely honest with yourself, the school doesn’t offer too much in terms of helping you unlock the true power of reverse cursed techniques. Unfortunately, this is one of the two places for the next generation of sorcerers to gather and train. Once you “graduate” a jujutsu school and become a full-fledged jujutsu sorcerer, you’re then put into the position of either becoming a teacher or accompanying other sorcerers on missions. Don’t get it wrong, you love being surrounded by people who somewhat understand the life you live. Not everyone is born with cursed energy so those far and wide who are tend to stick at the schools. Think of it as a college campus of sorts. Everyone has classes, a 'dorm room', there is a field to practice hand-to-hand combat on, a sparing room, and well you get the idea. From the outside looking in, as someone who knows nothing about curses or the use of cursed techniques, this looks like a regular school. Hell, you guys even have uniforms! Anything to blend in with society so the (as you like to call them) “normies” don’t suspect a thing.

As you're listening to your mother teach, you see your phone vibrating on the desk in front of you. An unknown number is calling. Wonder who that could be? You look up at your mom and point to your phone. She nods as if to say go ahead and step out to take the call. You get up quietly and head out the door. You walk a little away from the door so that you won’t disturb your mother’s class any more than you have. With a raised eyebrow you answer the phone.

“Um, hello?”

“Yes, is this (Y/N) (Y/L/N)?” A deep voice says on the other line.

“Yes, this is she. Mind if I ask who’s calling?” You say, your curiosity is piqued.

“Yes, this is Masamichi Yaga. Principal of Tokyo Jujutsu High.” He says rather sternly.

“Principal Yaga? Nice to hear from you, sir! But why are you calling me?” You asked with a confused look on your face.

“I’m calling because I’ve been in talks with Yoshinobu Gakuganji. He has reluctantly agreed to an idea of mine that involves you.” He says.

“Oh, well in that case I’m all ears! How can I help?” You say. Whatever could he want with you? You wouldn’t even put yourself in the league of Kyoto's best sorcerers.

“I would like you to transfer to Tokyo as soon as possible. I hear you’re the only other person who can use reverse cured techniques.” He says. Of course, Principal Gakuganji would have been in talks with the other school about you. After all, there are only you and Shoko.

Your heart starts to beat into your throat. WHAT? He wants you to come there? But for what exactly? But before you can calm your nerves down to answer him, he continues.

“I’ve also had a conversation with Ms. Ieiri and we would like you to come study under her. She wants to help you in any way that she can. We’ve heard about you wanting to unlock your true reverse cursed techniques' power. This will be a very valuable asset to both of our schools.”

HOLY SHIT. You must be dreaming! You have wanted nothing more than to be able to meet Shoko in the flesh and ask her all your burning questions! You can’t believe the opportunity of a lifetime just fell into your lap!

“I-I would love nothing more sir!” You stammer out but Principal Yaga can tell just how excited you are over the phone.

“Great! I’ll inform Gakuganji and Shoko of your decision. I look forward to you joining the Tokyo branch.” He says back with some underlying excitement in his voice as well.

You hum a response and tell him goodbye. He told you to be there tomorrow sometime in the early afternoon so you can get set up in your new room and meet the group.

Your heart is pounding. There is a smile on your face so wide that your cheeks hurt. You clutch your phone close to your chest and breathe slowly. You’ve never been more eager for anything in your life! Finally, you get to study under the renowned Shoko Ieiri. This is what you’ve always wanted. This is what you have gone to bed every night since your father died praying for.

The loud roar of the underclassmen being released for their lecture startles you back to earth. As they pass by you, moving on to their next class, you walk towards the door of your mother's room. She’s standing there, flipping through some book. You walk in and stand in front of her desk. She looks up at you and smiles.

“Well, what was that phone call about baby?” She asks with genuine curiosity.

“It-it was Principal Yaga from the Tokyo school.” You say as your heart starts to beat fast again.

“Oh, whatever could he want?” She asks raising an eyebrow.

“He-he wants me to transfer to Tokyo so I c-can study with Ms. Ieiri.” You say excitedly. You can’t believe this is real.

“Oh? Congratulations baby!” Your mother says enthusiastically as she makes her way around the desk to hug you.

You lean into your mother’s hug. Her arms feel like one of the safest places to be. You can’t help but squeeze her tightly and she does the same back. When you let go of the hug and look up, you see your mother is crying. You raise your hand to wipe her tears. It makes you uneasy to see your mother cry.

“What’s the matter? I’ll call him back right now and tell him never-“ but you couldn't get the sentence out as your mother shushed you.

“No baby. These are happy tears. I’m so thrilled that you get the opportunity to learn from Ms. Ieiri.” She says with red eyes.

You smile at your mother. She has always been so supportive of everything you’ve ever wanted to do in your life. That woman is your rock, your reason to live.

“Thank you mom. Thank you for always being here for me.” You say as you lean back in for another hug. Her hugs make you feel like a little girl again. Nothing is quite as powerful as the love between a parent and their child.

She hugs you more before pulling you back and looking at you.

“When do you leave out?” She asks.

“Principal Yaga said he would like me to be there early tomorrow afternoon if possible.” You say as you wipe your own eyes from the few teardrops that fell onto your cheek.

“Well, then we better head back to your room and get you packed up! My baby is flying the nest!” She exclaims.

You laugh at your mother’s reaction. She has been there for you in your darkest of times and it makes your heart so happy that she is here for the brightest of your times. You two clean up the classroom and head out the door to your dorm room. You spend all night packing and talking with your mother about your future.

—-------------

The next afternoon arrives and you head out to Tokyo Jujutsu High. On the car ride there you wonder how the new school will be. Is it the same as Kyoto? Will you make new friends fast there? Is your dorm room going to be as comfortable as your last? What kind of food do they have? Will you be able to unlock your true reverse cursed techniques' power?

As you pull up, you see a tall man standing there with dark glasses on, short brown hair, and a goatee. He’s pretty muscular and looks very intimidating. Is this Principal Yaga? You think to yourself. Sure enough, when you get out of the car and walk up to him, he introduces himself as Principal Yaga.

“If you’ll follow me, we can get you set you. Don’t worry about the bags. Megumi and Yuji will get them for you.” He says as he starts walking to the entrance of the school.

Megumi? Yuji? They must be students here at Tokyo you think and follow along right behind Yaga but not before saying goodbye to your mother You hug her one last time and smile at her. You inform her that you will indeed call later tonight to tell her all about your first day!

He shows you around the school, especially the medical lab where you will be working with Shoko. He informs you that you will be in a group with the first years, even though you are about 10 years older than them. He wants to gauge your talents, not just cured techniques but also hand-to-hand combat. He hands you your student ID. It reads “(Y/N) (Y/L/N): GRADE 3.” You’re not surprised in the slightest. Grade 3 sources are of average jujutsu ranking. Most jujutsu students get assigned this rank upon enrollment to Jujutsu High. Grade 3 sorcerers are not allowed to go on solo missions and are almost always accompanied by someone of a higher grade. Without the full completion of the reverse cursed technique and very basic, bare minimum hand-to-hand combat skills, this is all you possess. At Kyoto, you worked in the medical field healing other sorcerers and hardly ever going on missions that would put you in danger. Principal Gakuganji always told you that your talent was too precious to risk in actual curse batters thus resulting in your grade ranking remaining at 3 since you graduated the program. Honestly not that you were complaining though. You’ve been there to heal some of the students and sorcerers when they’ve come back from missions. You can’t count how many times you’ve healed enormous cuts and broken bones. That did not look pleasing to you in the slightest. When you finish your tour, Principal Yaga leads you to your dorm room.

“Here is where you’ll be staying. Shoko and Gojo's rooms are just down the hall if got need them for anything.” He says.

Suddenly you hear a loud commotion from down the hall. You look up to see two boys, who can’t be older than 16 carrying your bags and bickering.

“Hurry up you dumbass, Principal Yaga, and the new kid are probably already there!”

“Yeah, yeah. Calm down don’t get your panties in a twist, my man.”

A tall-ish boy with black spiked hair, pale skin, long eyelashes, and dark blue eyes rounds the corner first. He’s wearing a standard Jujutsu High uniform with a dark blue jacket, matching pants, and low-top brown shoes.

“Shut the hell up Itadori. I’m not going to get bitched at all because you wanted to stop at the vending machines on the way here.”

A second boy comes around the corner. He’s tall-ish too, tanner than the other boy, with bright pink hair, light brown eyes, and these weird markings under his eyes. He’s got on the same uniform style as the other boy but his is highlighted with a red collar and the same red shoes to match.

“Fushiguro you know I can’t pass up on a banana milk, man!”

Both of them stop in their tracks as they see you and Principal Yaga standing in front of your door. Principal Yaga just huffs at the boys.

“You two stop the bickering and get (Y/N)’s belongings in here now!” He says as he raises his voice.

The boys bolt for your room at the speed of light. You follow them inside and tell them they can just put the bags down on your bed and you’ll deal with unloading them later.

“(Y/N), this is Megumi Fushiguro and Yuji Itadori. They are two of the three first years you’ll be training with. Nobara Kugisaki is the other first year.” He says as he leans against the doorframe.

The black-haired one introduces himself as Megumi and the pink-haired one greets you and tells you he’s Yuji. You shake both of their hands and thank them for all the help, you have a lot of stuff so you know the trip wasn’t light

He then sighs. “Unfortunately you’ll be under the watch of Satoru Gojo along with Shoko. He’s going to be teaching you more martial arts and how to control your cursed energy better.” He exhales heavily and looks at the two boys in front of him. “Have either of you seen the idiot?”

. “Don’t know where Gojo is but knowing his lanky ass, he’s probably running late,” Megumi says as he rubs the back of his head. “God sometimes I want to punch that guy in the face.” He says in a low breath.

Itadori laughs and puts his hand on Megumi's shoulder. “Oh come on, we should be more grateful to have Gojo-sensi being the one teaching us. After all, he is the strongest.”

“You two help (Y/N) get accustomed to things around here. I’m going to find Gojos ass!” He said with some bass behind his voice. Remind you never to get on his bad side? Check! Principal Yaga gets off the doorframe of your room and takes off down the hall.

You’ve heard about this Gojo guy through the students at Koyto. Apparently, he is the heir to the Gojo clan and is the first person to inherit the six eyes and limitless technique in over four hundred years. That’s pretty impressive if you do say so! You wonder what kind of teacher he could be if he was considered the strongest already. His students must be some of the best among the Tokyo group.

“(Y/n) don’t listen to Itadori. Sure Gojo's strong but he’s a pain in the ass to deal with,” Megumi says as he slaps Yuji's hand off his shoulder.

Yuji just rubs his hand, giving Megumi a side-eye. “Anyway, come on (Y/N). We’ll introduce you to Shoko!” He says rather cheerfully.

Those two are completely opposite yet you can tell how much they care for each other. You wonder if you’ll fit into their group well. Also, where the heck is the other first year at? And more importantly, where is your 'teacher' at?

You leave the room with the boys and head down the hall to Shoko's room. Megumi knocks on her door and waits patiently to see if she’s in there. The door opens and out walks the woman you’ve been dying to meet. She has long brown hair that passes her shoulders, her eyes are a soft brown with dark circles underneath them and she has a mole under her right eyes. She’s wearing pretty normal-looking clothes except she spots a white lab coat over them and cream-colored heels. She looks at the boys and then at you. You think your heart just might stop.

“Hey, boys. And hello (Y/N) I’ve been looking forward to meeting you.” She gives you a soft smile.

You immediately bow your head. “Yes, ma’am I’ve been looking forward to this day as well! It’s so nice to finally meet you Ms. Ieiri!” You say enthusiastically.

She gives off a little laugh before putting her hand on your shoulder and raising you so you're looking at her face. “Please hon, just call me Shoko. We’re close enough to the same age.”

You look into her eyes and smile widely. “Yes Ms. Iei- I mean Shoko! It’s been a dream of mine to be able to even talk to you.”

She lets out another soft laugh. “Well, I hope I can live you to your expectations (Y/N). I’ve known about you for a little while now and I can’t wait to see what we can do to help you unlock that technique of yours!”

You can’t help but keep smiling at her. “Oh yes! I’ve been dying to figure it out. I’m so thankful to you and Principal Yaga for giving me this opportunity! I promise I won’t let you down!” And you say that with all honesty in your heart. You want to show these people that they didn’t waste their time bringing you here.

“I have no doubt you will accomplish great things here under our guidance.” She smiles at you and then looks at Megumi and Yuji. “…has she met Gojo yet?” She laughs.

You hear Megumi tsk. “No. Poor girl doesn’t know what she’s in for. Yaga went to find him. Of course, his dumbass is running late.”

Shoko laughs at Megumi's distain for Gojo’s tardiness. “Yeah, that goof is always late for everything.”

You hear Yuji laugh at Shoko's comment. Was this Gojo guy really that late to everything?

Before you could ask them anything else you heard someone coming down the hallway. You can tell it’s a man from the voice. It’s loud, really loud actually. Almost boarding on annoying….

“Yea, yea sorry Yags. I told ya, traffic was bad. Not m’fault I got stuck.”

And then he rounds the corner. He’s very, and you mean very tall, lean, muscular, and looks to be in his late twenties. His hair is snow-white and spiked up due to a black blindfold covering his eyes. He’s wearing a Jujutsu uniform which is a dark blue zip-up jacket with a high collar that’s significantly wide, fitted matching pants, and black boots.

He steals your breath with just how attractive-looking this man is. God, even his voice was alluring. He spots you all standing down by Shoko's room, his room is just down a bit farther, and waves. He starts to walk over. You don’t think he notices you at first because you're blocked a little by the others.

“Well well if it isn’t m’precious first years and the doctor. Heard we got some new meat today. Where’s he at?” He asks as he finally gets over to the group.

Megumi tsks again. “You idiot. The new first year is a girl and she’s literally right here.” He says as he steps out of the way.

There is enough space created between you all that the white-haired man now has plenty of room to check you out. You look up at him, you mean really have to look up. He just stands there for a second, what you assume to be staring at you because you can’t see his eyes. And then he grins. A big shit-eating grin. He bends down so he’s at eye level with you now. You can feel your heart in your throat. God, this guy seems to not know the meaning of personal space. But damn, is he one attractive-looking man.

“My, my, you’re a pretty little one.” He says smirking at you.

You can feel your cheeks start to heat up under his gaze. It doesn’t make you uncomfortable by any means, more squeamish because this unfamiliar yet charming man has called you pretty. Does he really think you’re pretty?

He can’t help but give a small chuckle. His breath ghosted over your face. He smells like sweet candy and honestly, you wouldn’t mind a taste. “Gotta name, pretty girl?” He asks as he tilts his head to the side giving you a sultry smirk.

Your cheeks heat up again and you feel your palms starting to sweat. You probably look like a lovestruck schoolgirl right now but honestly, it’s not far off from the truth. Before you can answer, Shoko interrupts his blatant flirting.

“That’s enough Satoru. Jeez, don’t scare her away just yet.” She says with a roll of her eyes. “She's from the Koyto school, the transfer student…wait did Yaga not tell you anything?”

Wait…so this man..is the Satoru Gojo? The same guy who’s going to be your teacher? The same one who you find terribly handsome!? Oh god. This is going to be a rough time for you.

He laughs again before standing up to return to his full height. “Nah, the ol’gezzer told me about her as he was jumpin’ my ass ‘bout bein’ late. I was jus' messin’ with ya.” He smiles a toothy grin.

You hear Itadori laugh. “See Gojos not that bad (Y/N). He’s actually a really cool teacher.” Yuji then wraps his arm around Megumi's shoulder and pulls him along with him down the hallway. “We’re gonna go find Kugisaki. See y’all later!”

You faintly hear Megumi tell Itadori to get his slimy hands off him before they are gone. Now left standing there with Shoko and the oh-so-handsome tall guy, he chuckles. “I got it from here Sho. I’ll show her the classroom an’ all the other fun stuff.” He says as he puts his gigantic hands in his pockets.

Jesus was everything about this man big? Oh god. Great now you’re blushing again. ‘Get it together!’ You say to yourself.

“Fine just don’t be..well don't be you Satoru.” Shoko rolls her eyes. “If he creeps you out too much, run to my room and I’ll save you.” She says with a chuckle.

You can’t help the chuckles that comes out of your mouth. So far Satoru doesn’t seem like a creep, but who knows? Stranger things have happened.

Satoru huffs like a child. “M’not a creep. I’m perfectly capable of bein’ a gentleman.” He says as he looks down at you. “Well, unless you wan’ me to be a little rough with ya pretty girl.” He says with a smirk.

And there you go again blushing like a lovesick teenager. God, is this guy always this flirty? This was gonna take some getting used to.

Shoko knows there is no point in trying to stop him. She just sighs and says she heading down to the medical room. She tells Gojo to bring you there when he’s done. He nods and you two start walking over to the classroom. He hasn’t said anything else to you and you start to wonder what he could be thinking. Is he excited to get a new first year even though you’re much older than the other three? Is he going to be a good teacher? Why did he become a teacher at this school when he could have easily just been a normal run-of-the-mill sorcerer? All these thoughts swim through your head as you’re walking and then he abruptly stops in front of a door that you can only assume to be his classroom. He opens the door and holds it open as if to say ‘after you.’ So you walk in. It isn’t much different from the Koyto classrooms you’ve become accustomed to. There is a blackboard, some desks, a couple of bookshelves, what you assume to be his desk and a very expensive-looking black chair.

He sits down in said expensive black chair and crosses one excessively long leg over the other. He’s then looking at you and smiling. You feel your cheeks heat up again under his glare. Why does he have to keep doing this to you? Does he enjoy teasing you? But you think you already know the answer to that...

“So, pretty girl, ‘bout that name?” He asks smirking at you.

[multiplefandomwritings]

the man, the myth, the legend

pairing: Max Verstappen x Horner!reader

warnings: swearing, other than that none really

summary: when you meet Max Verstappen for the first time, you cannot help but think that he is an insufferable asshole. however, the man makes it his mission to convince you of the opposite.

notes: feel free to leave comments and/or feedback. likes and reblogs are always appreciated! also, feel free to send in requests! Also: Should i write a second part? If yes, drop your ideas below :)

disclaimer: English is not my first language, so please excuse any mistakes :)

word count: 2.8k

„And here comes the man, the myth, the legend: Everybody get your hands together for Max Verstappen!” You rolled your eyes. You had only one word that you associated with the brunette man that now jumped on the stage, happily smiling – and that word was arrogance. You had only met him once, just like an hour ago, in the paddock, after he had just won. But that one time was enough for you to know that you did not ever want to talk to him again.

What you did not know was that the man that you despised was smitten by you. He had just met you once, and he had to admit that he did not show his best side. He had just won, and he felt like the king of the world, like he was invincible. So, in his mind, that was almost blank after several hours in the racing car and the win, he felt like you had to fall under his spell. But he had a rough awakening when he found you did not.

“Hey, my name is Max Verstappen and I just won this race!” You turned around to see the young man standing in front of you, his face red where the helmet had protected his head, smelling like burned tires and sweat. “Good for you!”, you said, not understanding why he spoke to you. After all, it was your first time here, you did not work for Red Bull, you were not an engineer, and you did not even care for racing that much.

You had just recently found out that Christian Horner, the team principle of the Red Bull Formula One team, was your father. Your mother and him had been high school sweethearts, she was his girlfriend when he first started to be race driver. When she found out that she was pregnant, she did not want to concern Christian with it, as he was an aspiring race star, and that was a dangerous job. She decided to keep you but broke up with Christian to guarantee him the career he had always wanted.

Your mother had been always very open about the fact that it was her decision to raise you alone, you therefore held no grudges against your father. However, you still wanted to meet him some day, and when your mother told you, you decided to try and contact Christian. Much to your surprise, he actually answered. He was cautious at first, which you understood, but the name of your mother rang a bell. You met, and you were not offended that he asked to do a DNA test. Once the results were there, he was quick to make up for the time you two had lost, which was why you stood here in the paddocks. He wanted to show you how and where he worked.

It was hectic. That was the first word that came to your mind when you came to the Hockenheimring in Germany. Christian – it was still weird to call him dad – paid for your flight, your hotel, basically everything. It was cute how he tried to reconnect with you, you really appreciated it, especially because you were willing to put the same effort in. Even his family, his wife, and kids, were eager to make you feel welcomed in their family. You still remembered very vividly the first dinner you had together, and how all of you ended up crying together by the end of it, because you got along so good, and because it was emotional for all of you.

The memory of this got you smiling, and that was the first time Max saw you. You stood somewhere by the wall, trying to not get lost in the hectic and organized chaos that surrounded you. You wore an oversized Red Bull Sweatshirt, and a cap. You seemed so lost in this surrounding, yet Max could not take his eyes of you. You radiated happiness, and suddenly he felt the anticipation of the coming race just washing away. His heart beat faster when he laid eyes on you, and he knew today was going to be a good race. He did not know why - he just knew that he was going to be on the podium today. He had to, even if it was just to impress you, the girl that had completely eased his mind before the race and had helped him win.

So, after he got out of his car, and after shortly celebrating with his crew, he looked around to see if he could spot you. And there you were, leaning against the metal bannisters, as the rain had finally stopped. You seemed to enjoy the bit of sunshine that the German sun was ready to provide. He quickly made his way over to you, desperate to speak with you before he got onto the podium. In hindsight, he should have waited for his nerves and his euphoria to boil down. Then he would have maybe thought about his words better.

“Good for you!” The words rang in his mind, and he was surprised how kind you were, even though you seemed to be confused why he talked to you. “Many people are very sure that I will be the world champion this year!” He could not stop the words spilling out of his mouth. The smile left your face, and instead you furrowed your brows. In this moment all he wanted was to turn back time. Another “Good for you” left your mouth, but this time it did not sounded sincere. You sounded rather annoyed because what way was that to start a conversation?

But instead of apologizing profoundly, which he should have, Max after-the-race-brain decided it was the right thing to bury the hole he was already in a lot deeper. “I was also the youngest drivers ever to compete in the Formula One, winning my first Grand Prix with just 18 years!” The third “Good for you!” left your mouth, this time your voice dripping with sarcasm. Did he not have somewhere else to be?

However, Max was not ready yet. Even though he knew he should stop right here, in order to maybe get another chance at talking to you without you thinking what a prick he was, he continued speaking. It was these words that solidified your opinion around him. “So far, my net worth is around 60 million dollars!” This time, you could only role your eyes. You were just about to make a sarcastic comment, when the man in front of you was called by someone. “Max, you need to get to the podium!”

You took his distraction as your cue and fled. When Max turned around to say something more to you, you had already disappeared into the crowd of the Red Bull team. He was disappointed and mad at himself, however, the adrenaline and happiness he got from standing on the podium would quickly wash away those feelings. Or so he thought at least. For a moment he could enjoy the feelings, the bliss of fame and the euphoria of the win.

After the champagne fight, Max had to give a public appearance for the fans, and he did not mind. While he waited to be announced, he looked in the crowd, deep down hoping that he could spot you somewhere. And there you were, in the VIP section, still wearing the oversized Red Bull Hoodie that looked insanely cute on you. You turned around, almost as if you were trying to find someone, and he could not stop the smile from spreading on his face. Whoever had given you the sweatshirt had given you one with his name on it.

You were looking for Christian. The one moment he was right next to you in the VIP area, and then he just disappeared into the crowd. You sighed. Whatever, you would just wait here for him to be back, even when that meant that you had to watch the infamous, youngest Grand Prix winner, worth 60 million dollars and whatever not Max Verstappen.

On stage, Max seemed like a totally different person, and that got you thinking. Maybe he was not so bad after all. He was charming, funny and you hated to admit it, but if you would have met him under different circumstances, he would have been exactly your type. When you found yourself laughing to one of the jokes he made, you decided that if you ever were to meet him again, and he wanted to talk to you again, you would give him another chance.

Max had watched you from the corner of his eyes the entire time, and somehow, he still managed to stay focused on the questions. He felt like he really was the best version of himself right now and he was even more surprised that he had so blatantly failed at flirting with you. While you looked skeptical in the beginning, he could now see you laughing, and it made his heart flutter.

“Well Max, that shall be all! Congratulations again and enjoy your party tonight!” The party – Max had entirely forgot about that, and he found himself wondering, if not hoping, that you would be there. “Thank you!”, he said and was walked of the stage. He tried to get another sight of you, but you disappeared into the crowd and all he could hope for was a chance of meeting you again.

Christian had profoundly apologized to you for just leaving you behind. You waved it off, you had actually enjoyed watching the event, even more the day. Now it was time for you to get ready for the after-race party, maybe take a quick nap and a shower. Christian insisted on organizing you a lift to the hotel as well as to the party, and you did not complain. Even better was that he had gifted you a beautiful dress, that his wife and he had chosen for you. It was truly beautiful, and you were surprised of how thoughtful it was that he had gifted you a dress by listening to you talking about what you liked.

When you arrived at the hotel, you thanked the driver and made your way to your room. As planned, you took a short nap that occupied you longer than expected, as you almost overslept. You hurriedly showered and got ready for the party and made it downstairs just in time. Before you stepped outside the hotel, you caught a gaze of yourself in a mirror and you were in awe. The dress was really something else, beautifully complimenting your figure and your eyes.

When you arrived, Christian escorted you in via the back entrance, not yet wanting to reveal you to the media. You were glad about it. His world was entirely different from your life until this point, and you were not sure yet if you wanted to share his fame. He left you standing with his wife to look after his two drivers, but you did not mind. Geri and you got along splendid.

While you could sneak in the party, Max had to take the front entrance that was full of cameras and interviewers and fans. He smiled for the media, signed a lot of whatever people put in front of him, but his mind was elsewhere. Would you be there? He knew that he would do anything to see you smile again. Max could not understand himself. He had never felt like his before – he felt like he was a teenager again, his body tingling and his mind clouded. Once he made it in, he was immediately greeted by Christian.

“Hey Max!”, the team principle engulfed him in a side hug, “Congrats again on that amazing win!” The Dutch smiled wide. “Thank you Christian!” “I hope you are in your best form right now, because I want you to meet someone very special!” Max laughed. “Of course, after such a win always! Who is it?” Christian nudged him into the side with his elbow. “You will see, just follow me!”

So, the race driver followed him, as Christian led him through the crowd to a high table a bit off. Max could see Geri, Christian’s wife, as well as another woman standing with her back towards him. Christian approached the table, smiling widely. “Max, may I introduce you to my eldest daughter! Darling, have you two met before?” With Christian approaching you, you turned around and saw the brunette man from earlier in close proximity. The shock and embarrassment on his face was badly hidden, and you decided to spare the man a few sorrows. “I don’t believe we have met before. My name is y/n, and you must be the famous Max Verstappen! Congratulations on your win today!”

Max could feel his checks grow red from embarrassment and he got flustered. Luckily, you did not seem to have Christian told anything about the earlier incident. You bent forwards, greeting Max the French way - kissing him on both cheeks. That did not help him at all. „Is everything alright, Max? You don’t seem so well. Darling, there is a balcony over there, Max here seems like he could use some fresh air - do you mind taking him outside for a bit?“

You shook your head, and actually did not mind. Now was the time that you would find out who Max Verstappen really was. You did not even think about it, but since Max really did not look well, you grabbed his hand to guide him outside. His heart furiously beat in his chest, and he was terribly afraid that you would be able to hear it.

Once outside, the cool air helped him calm down a bit. You said down on a bench and offered him the place next to you. He gladly accepted. Between the podium, the events and until he had to go to the party, Max had thought about all the things he could say to you to make it up, but now next you, his mind was absolutely blank. The two of you were quite for a moment, but to your surprise it did not feel unpleasant. And then, Max broke the silence.

„Listen, I am very sorry for our first meeting, I behaved like an arrogant asshole.“ You did not know why, but this statement made you laugh out loud. And Max did not know why, but it felt like that was the best reaction you could have showed – presuming that you were not laughing about him. “Let me be honest, if I wouldn’t have attended your press event, I would possibly still think that you are an arrogant asshole. That event really saved you ass!” Max now grinned as well.

“I am glad I got to save my reputation. But again, I am sorry. After the race my mind doesn’t work so well.” You nodded understandingly. “Really, no worries, Max. I am quite glad you are not that arrogant.” “How is that?”, the Dutch man looked at you. “Because I would have been disappointed in my own taste. Because quite frankly, you are very handsome and exactly my type!”, you laughed.

Max was stunned for a moment. He had rarely ever met someone as upfront and self-confident as you. “Well, thank you for your compliment, I can give it right back. The moment I first laid eyes on you, I was rather enchanted by you. You actually helped me win the race!” “No way!”, you grinned, “How?” Max blushed a bit. “The moment I laid eyes on you, I suddenly felt very calm and collected, I cannot really describe it. It helped me focus, and I somehow knew I had to win, even if it was just to impress you.” “That is really sweet, Max”, she said with a genuine smile on her face.

Suddenly, a gush of wind hit the pair of you and you shivered. Max reacted immediately and put his jacket around you. “You should have kept the sweater on, it suited you very well. Especially because it had my name on it.” You laughed and playfully hit his shoulders. “Max Verstappen, you are unbelievable!” Max grinned at you, and then he even winked. “Jokes aside, you look absolutely stunning, today and tonight. You are clearly taking after your father!” You shook your head.

“I like this Max better than the bragging one. You make me laugh, and I appreciate that a lot. So, I can definitely say you that you are not only my type look wise...”, now it was your turn to wink at the man. Max looked at you, and suddenly there were butterflies in your stomach. “Well, I can only give that back, so how about you go on a date with me?” “I would love nothing more than that, Max.”

[spencerreidhaze]

Pretty Boy

Summary: Derek dies on a case. Luke has big shoes to fill up.

Words count: 5.8k

Trigger warnings: death, grief, trauma, slightly bullying. angst and fluff.

note: it's my first text since like high school and it was YEARS ago. Also it's my first time ever writing in english. If you found this and read this, please give me some feedback. Enjoy xx

~*~

There’s weight on his shoulder. There’s weight on his chest. There’s nothing on his mind.

Derek Morgan was supposed to get married this week next year. Derek Morgan is being buried today.

Spencer can’t force himself to look to his right. Can’t see his best friend’s fiancée. Can’t see his mother and sisters. He puts heavy, shiny, black coffin down and automatically bows his head, blinking so the tears messing up his view would go away. He takes a step back to line with Aaron, David and Will before returning to the crowd. Everyone at the scene is in tearful disbelief. Reid blankly watches as the coffin disappears in the ground. He feels Penelope holding his arm, crying on his shoulder. He feels tears on his own cheek, hears the priest talking and Savannah sobbing. He sees, feels and hears everything and he knows it’s gonna stay with him forever. He won’t be blessed with a sweet relief of the memories fading with time, like every other person around him will be in a few years. He is aware of the fact that 20 years from now he will be able to repeat every word that was said that day. He won’t forget the incenses smell, the ring of bells, the crying. He won’t forget Derek’s nephews heartbroken eyes. He won’t forget the fiancée, in all black, holding his mamma’s hand as they cry quietly, mourning the husband-to-be and an amazing son. Most importantly, he will vividly remember his best friend, a black suit covering the bullet hole in his chest, laying in a silk coffin pillows, dead from a shot that was not meant for him.

He shaked his head like a wet dog, when he walked out of the elevator. It’s been 7 weeks since Derek’s funeral. His first time back to work since the fatal case they were sent to. First time he won’t be blessed with “good morning pretty boy” and a cup of black coffee.

Reid walked through the door of the BAU bullpen, when he noticed someone new. Even though he was aware of the fact they will need another agent on the team, he was taken by surprise with his arrival.

- Spencer! – JJ smiled weakly, looking at him with worry – I missed you – he’s opening up his arms then closing her in a tight hug, eyes focused on the back of the head of a man sitting at a desk. The same desk that used to be Derek’s before he got his own office. The one next to Spencer’s. Even if he didn’t use it in over a year now, this desk was always Derek’s. No one got it after him. No one, until now.

- I missed you too – he finally said back, letting her out of his arms, forcing a smile to hide the thunderstorm of feelings in his head and heart – who’s that?

- That’s Luke Alvez. He is… - she started, glancing back at the new guy of the team.

- He’s Derek’s replacement – Reid finished before she could find better, less harsh words – it’s… it’s okey. We could see that coming.

He was right. He knew they were going to get a new member of the team. He was aware of the need for it. But expecting something to happen and witnessing it are two different things.

- Hi – he murmed not even looking at the new guy as he put his go-to bag under his desk. Instead of him, he looked at the desk. When Derek had it, it was covered in files, sports magazines, empty paper cups and protein bars wrappers. Right now there were two file case neatly put on the side, a small photo frame of a dog – Belgian Shepard if he wasn’t mistaken – and a big, military camo-themed cup of hot coffee. 

- Hi! You must be Spencer, doctor Reid. Right? – Big brown eyes were fully focused on him, checking him out not so discretly. Spencer couldn’t help but compare them to his late best friends' eyes.

- Yep. Yes, that’s me. And you are…?

- Luke. Luke Alvez. I joined the team last week. – he explained as Spencer took his seat. He only nodded, getting used to the fact, that there is someone new around. New member of the team. New member of his family. He wasn’t entirely sure if he likes that idea.

- The coffee shop next to bureau is way better than ours coffee machine one – he offered, not wanting to start the relation badly.

- I went there once and didn’t like it, was too strong. This one is no better, but free. I prefer going to Joe’s caffee but the one next to my place was closed last week.

Spencer nodded, putting a weak smile as a reply before focusing on the paperwork he was behind with. No matter how hard he tried, all he could think was they replaced Derek.

- I hate to say it, but we have a case – Hotch’s voice brought him back from his thoughts. He looked up at the unit chief and walked to the conference room without a word.

Derek’s gone. He has to accept that. The least he can do now is focus on the lives he actually can save.

- We can tell the unsub has a specific type – JJ said, looking through the four pictures of the victims. All male, white, skinny, dark blond or light brown curly hair.

- Yes, no doubt. Pretty boys in their 20s and 30s, kinda like Spencer.

Luke could feel everyone freeze in their places, looking discretly at the two of them.

- What? – He looked around not understanding why his comment was met with such a strange reaction.

- Don’t ever call me pretty boy again – Spencer’s voice, not louder than the whisper, was undeniably full of sadness. Alvez couldn’t see his eyes, hidden behind the curtain of soft looking curls. Reid seemed like focused on the files in front of him, but something told him, that it wasn’t the case interest making him do that.

- Okey… Okey, I’m sorry – Luke nodded, looking around as people were checking on Spencer before moving on, leaving Luke with even more questions.

It took them six days and one more victim to catch the unsub. Spencer was thankful to be able to go back home right after they finished, not waiting for the next morning. He curled on his seat, covered in dark brown, fluffy blanket and dozed off when he noticed someone sitting across the small table. He opened his eyes, looking at Alvez.

- Sorry, didn’t want to wake you – he said quietly – just can’t keep listening to David talking about Italian food. Makes me even hungrier.

- Alright – Spencer nodded slightly before fixing the blanket – you should get used to it tho.

- He does that…

- Nearly every time. It’s either food or old cars or Vietnam war – he forced himself to smile weakly, remembering the time David joined them and the constant bets with Derek, loosing way too much money on it.

- You were close with him, weren’t you? – quiet voice brought him back from the thought train.

Realizing he’s staring at the empty place, usually taken by Morgan, he looked back at the new companion.

- With agent Morgan. JJ told me – Luke explained, looking at him like he was a wounded animal.

Maybe – Spencer thought - that’s what he was.

- Yes – he confirmed, checking up the empty seat once again, before lowering the sight on the book on the table – he was my best friend.

- I just… I hope you know I don’t want to replace him by any means – Alvez spoke up again, looking directly at Spencer – I don’t want to be “new” him. But I know you might see me like that for a moment and it’s okey too. I just want you to know… I don’t know. I would like to be your friend too, eventually.

Spencer looked up at him, blinking the tears away for god knows what time this week.

- Thank you. – he couldn’t say anything else, as his voice threatened to break down.

- Of course – the older one replied with a soft smile, looking at the genius boy for a moment longer before focusing on his iPhone.

One month later

Spencer didn't know, how hard the first birthday of Derek gonna be, until they happened. June 6th was on Saturday and it seemed like it’s gonna be the only good thing about that day.

He looked at the glittery blue box in his closet, the gift he randomly got for him a little over a week before the tragedy. Ever since then he had it hidden in the closet, waiting for the day he would enter Derek’s and Savannah’s new house, singing happy birthday with Garcia holding a homemade cake.

The reality hit him, when he realized there won’t be any more candles to blow for him, instead there’s gonna be one on a cold stone with his name on it.

He put it back on the shelf the moment he heard a knock on the door.

Hesitantly he opened the door just to see Luke on the other side of it.

- Hi. Figured… Figured it might be a hard day for you – he started, looking at the younger man with empathy – thought you might want a fresh coffee and a doughnut?

Spencer looked at him for a second before opening the door some more. Luke walked into the apartment, looking around curiously.

- Sorry for the mess, I was not expecting guests – Spencer looked around, disgusted a bit by what he saw. Cleaning wasn’t recently the top priority for him and he started regretting it, as he noticed few empty cups, paper wraps and empty take out boxes on the table  

- Not a problem, seriously. How are you? – Luke put the donuts box on the coffee table.

- Holding on, I guess.

They both took their places on the couch, holding hot paper cups. Alvez opened the box of sweets and took the one with green sparkles on it.

- I lost a buddy too – he started after a moment, gaining Spencer’s attention – during a war. We met at training and then were signed together. Then during one mission… We fell into a trap. I was the lucky one to survive and the miserable one, watching as he dies in my arms with his blood on my hands.

- I’m sorry – that was all Spencer was able to say, looking at the older guy with mix of emotions he struggled to name, remembering his own friend with head on his lap, as he laid on the hard wooden floor bleeding out.

- My point is... I had no one to rely on, as every one was mourning the loss. But you Spencer… you don’t have to be alone.

Another soft, sad smile broke Spencer’s heart a little more. After a few seconds of hesitation, he decided to finally speak out.

- Pretty boy. That’s the nickname Derek gave me – he looked at Luke, just to make sure that it’s okey to share, before focusing on the cup in his hands again, blinking to get rid of tears – when I joined BAU I was 23 and the only reason they accepted my application was because of my intellectual… gift. I graduated academy not knowing how to properly hold a gun. Derek… Derek had the desk next to mine and for the first few days he was a total pain in the ass. Constantly called me “pretty boy” and God, I hated it. But even with the teasing and jokes and sarcasm… I noticed he was always there. One time we went on a case to Boston and there had been those two cops. They tried to mock me and underestimated every word I said. Most likely because I looked like I barely graduated high school when they were way taller and manlier than me. Derek… Derek was the first one to stand up for me. – he smiled sadly, wiping up a tear from his cheek – He yelled at them and humiliated them in front of every one. Pretty sure he was ready to throw punches if it wasn’t for Hotch. Anyway, that was the first time I realized he can be my friend and not only the guy I work with. That’s… that’s when he turned into my older brother. The nickname stucked and I knew I was safe when I heard him say that. I knew someone cares and is there to protect me when everything gets more… intense.

Luke nodded, looking at Spencer with sympathy. He already knew why Spencer has forbidden anyone call him pretty boy, but it was still good to hear him say it in his own words, his own emotions and stories.

- I’m not sure what to do now – a quiet confession left Reids mouth a moment later – he was putting up with me on so many levels both professionally and privately that now I don’t know what to do. There’s no one to call me those stupid two words anymore and I can’t believe I fought over them for a month. Now I miss hearing him say that. I miss what they meant. And it breaks my heart every day.

- I think – Luke started cautiously, looking at the genius next to him – that you won’t find another him. But just because there won’t be another Derek, doesn’t mean there won’t be another person to be there for you, protect you and… “put up” with you, as you described. You just need to let people into your life again and let us fill up the missing pieces as much as we can.

- Do you… Do you want to do that? – Spencer looked up at the man next to him with both hope and disbelief in his eyes – Fill up some place, I mean?

 Luke couldn’t help but smile the smile you use when you see an adorable child confused about the life around him. That was the same way Spencer was confused about him wanting to be friends.

- Of course, Spence. I would be honored if you let me.

All he could do was nod, before leaning on his shoulder for the first time, getting used to the new bound they found and could share.

Luke Alvez knew Spencer Reid was special the moment he heard about him from unit chief Aaron Hotchner months ago. The man referred to him as “doctor” despite the fact he was barely 30. Then he saw the desk next to his, totally covered in books and notes.

But he was absolutely sure he’s more than special the moment he saw him for the first time that day in the bullpen. Ever since he looked at the tall man, he tried to become his friend. He knew by the looks on the teams face and the way JJ hugged him that morning, that there would be nothing better in the world than being able to say “Spencer Reid is my friend”.

He was reminded of that the first time they had dinner over at Rossi’s, a week after their first case together. Aaron and JJ brought their kids with them and it was hard to look away, when Spencer was just right there, sitting on the bench with two little boys, showing them magic tricks and observing as their faces lit up just because they got the attention of the genius. It was a long time since he heard a laugh this carefree and loud and it made his heart grow, knowing who made these two little boys laugh so hard.

He watched him all night, interacting with the team and their spouses with nothing but care and love. The way Spencer protectively put an arm on Emily’s side as she tripped. The way he kissed JJ’s head when she hugged him. The way he laughed at Will’s unfunny jokes. The way he helped Rossi with the dishes after they ate amazing food. Everything he did was filled with affection and deep connection to the people around him. Every smile was genuine. Every gesture was natural. Spencer was nothing but love circling around them.

The only time his heart ached was when Spencer was left alone. These few minutes of loneliness on the patio with a glass of apple juice in hand and happy sparks in his eyes replaced with longing, as he looked up at the stars. He knew exactly who is he interacting with at that moment.

Eventually, he was able to say those words too. Spencer Reid was his friend.

After the shared pain, comfort and a few mint and chocolate donuts on Spencer’s couch he could surely say that this genius boy accepted him as one of his friends.

However, during the time of getting to know each other better, Luke knew that being his friend might not be enough. That maybe there was one thing better than the friendship – that’s being his partner.

At the very beginning he didn’t want to admit it, even to himself, that he might have a crush on the tall, skinny, younger man. Spencer Reid was straight, right? Luke had to accept that and direct his affection somewhere else.

June 6th was the day Spencer became him friend but also the day he could no longer use the same excuse he has been repeated to his heart whenever they aw each other. Everything thanks to Derek Morgan – again - and the disgustingly cute picture on the wall in the living room. Luke noticed it after the talk, when Spencer went to the bathroom to fix the contact lenses, messed up by the tears. It had to be taken years ago cuz the genius boy was even skinnier and the clothes he was wearing were way too loose on him. His hair was a bit longer too, covering part of his face as he shyly held a pink-purple-blue flag on a stick in his hand. Derek stood next to him with a sign “Bi the way, I’m a genius” with a glittery arrow pointed at Reid.

- This was my first and only pride parade. He took me there after they found out about my sexuality – unsure  voice broke the silence of the room. Luke looked at him and smiled a little.

- Didn’t you like it?

- I did, I guess… I was overwhelmed and confused but I didn’t hate it.

- Then why didn’t you go again?

Spencer shrugged his arms, sitting back on the couch before looking up with a soft smile.

- We planned but whenever there was one we were called on a case. So there was never really a chance. It’s alright tho. Derek and Penelope were happy to be there with me that one time and I guess I couldn’t ask for better first time anyway.

Luke only nodded, still processing the fact, that this pretty boy sitting on brown leather couch, wearing too big sweater and slim sweatpants was bisexual, therefore the crush he developed in him wasn’t as irrational as he tried to make it.

Six months later

- Don’t move – Luke looked at Spencer sitting on the edge of the bathtub, as he was changing his band aid. He hated the fact he wasn’t there when Reid got punched by the unsub, left with a cut on the eyebrow and black eye.

- I’m trying – he whined back, looking at him like an impatient child – are we done here?

- I would be by now if you didn’t move so much.

- I’m sorry. You could put a shirt on, you know – he complained as Luke took a step back to make sure the new band aid won’t fell off like the previous two Spener tried by himself.

- Why? You don’t like the view? – He smiled jokingly, wiggling his upper body imitating some sort of dance move. Spencer bursted out laughing but he could swear his cheeks were more pink than before.

- Please stop before I enjoy the view too much – he managed to say in between giggles and Luke’s stomach flipped.

- Doctor Spencer Reid, are you flirting with me? – he asked only half joking, his mind already blank.

- That depends, how is it going? – Shy but still cheeky smile appeared on Reid face.

- Quite good actually – he managed to say under his breath when younger one stood up and looked in the mirror, fixing a button of his shirt.

- Then the possibility of me trying to flirt with you are most likely high enough to claim them as a confirmation.

Luke was too surprised to speak before Spencer left the hotel room’s bathroom and got back to packing his stuff.

- You don’t want to be late – he added louder, making the ex-military man finally get ready.

- So? When are you gonna tell Luke you’re in love with him? – JJ asked quietly, pulling Reid out of his thoughts.

They were sitting in the jet on their way back, Luke sleeping at the front seat next to Rossi who was sipping on whiskey, Spencer took the seat in the back, trying to catch some rest, away from the team.

- I’m not in love with him – he whispered quickly, looking around scared that someone hears them.

- You've been watching him sleep for the last… 7 minutes – she said looking at her watch then back at him – you keep turning your head whenever he passes by and then look again when he walks out of the door, you leave your apartment earlier each morning to bring him a cup of coffee from that Joe’s coffee shop that’s further away from your place just because he likes it more, even tho he probably never directly told you that…

- He mentioned it once – he interrupted, but she didn’t bother pausing the monologue.

-… when we enter the unsub place he is the first person you look at after shots are fired, and frankly, you are the first person he checks up on too. He looks at you with stars in his eyes whenever you info-dump us, he always stays close to you at every police station, shielding you from the looks of those cops. Somehow he knows when you need a break and finds the most stupid excuse to take you out of the crowd for at least a few minutes, he always brings you extra chocolate and walnut doughnut and can’t take his eyes off of you whenever you’re not looking. You two are so obviously in love it’s painful to watch, especially since the two of you are the only ones not seeing it. Rossi and Hotch are taking bets on whether or not you two finally get together.

- What? – Spencer looked at his friend dumbfounded – Alvez is… Luke is gay?

JJ rolled her eyes in disbelief before looking back at him.

- Spence I… yes. – she decided to drop the sarcastic comment purely because of the hope she noticed in his big brown eyes – Luke is gay and it’s not that I think he might be, I surely know he is. He directly came out to me, Hotch and Rossi long ago, when we had that gay bar victim case you had to skip for your mom. So please, do something about it because if Rossi wins the bet none of us will hear the end of it before he kicks the bucket.

All Spencer could do was nod, looking at her confused, happy, scared and lost at the same time.

“Do you like me? Yes (check the bottom), no (throw it away and forget).”

Luke looked at the black sign on the note sticked to the coffee cup. The letters were slim, slightly cursive, elegant. Then he looked at the back of genius boy’s head few desks away, reading over Prentiss shoulder. He carefully lifted his cup to check the bottom of it.

“I like you too”

He smiled like a fool, putting the cup back on his desk, catching Spencer’s eyes. He winked once, making the younger one smile back before they both went back to their tasks.

It took over two hours but he finally was left alone with Spencer, doing their paper work at their desks.

- So… - he started, looking at the younger boy – you like me?

- Of course I like you, you’re my friend, remember? – he finally looked up at Alvez, small smile on his lips.

- Do you leave the “I like you” cups of coffee on everyones desks then? – he teased a little, admiring how Spencer’s cheeks turn red.

- I guess I don’t do that to everyone.

Luke’s heart skipped a beat before starting racing. He looked at Spencer cautiously, swallowing hard before speaking out again.

- Good. I would really like to take you out for dinner then.

Spencer looked up at the older man in front of him in pure shock. At this point he obviously knew Luke might like him more than as a friend but he didn’t expect this. His brain was shut down for moment before the thoughts started their race and he couldn’t catch one for more than a split second. Does it mean he really likes him? Is it going to be a date? What if it’s just a stupid prank? What if…

- Spence? – the worried voice brought him back. He looked at him, realizing Luke was still waiting for the answer.

- I’d love to – he finally said, smiling happily. Luke nodded, biting his lip, knowing if he wouldn’t do that, the smile would probably break his face.

The dinner had to be postponed due to case. They sat together on the jet, Spencer felt every inch of his leg that was touching Luke’s. The flight was short, not more than two hours before they landed in Chicago.

Luke, Hotch and Spencer went straight to the police station as the rest had to check the crime scene and talk to the victim’s family. Secretly Reid was relieved it wasn’t his turn this time to talk to grieving parents or partners. He barely made peace with his own grief to face it again.

- You can take the room at the end of the hall, we put the white board in it. Please, let me know if you need anything more – the sheriff showed them the way and disappeared.

He followed the two older men to their temporary workplace, wasting no time before sitting down, trying to create a geographical profile.

Over an hour later Luke was walking down the hall with two cups of coffee they desperately needed when he heard Spencer’s annoyed, slightly raised voice.

- What are you doing? Do not touch it! Don’t touch me!

Luke nearly ran the remaining distance with heart in his throat. He entered the room, looking deadly at the two regular cops there on both sides of Spencer.

- Come on, pretty boy, pink and blue stickers won’t help us solve the case but they might look nice in your girly hair – the older, slightly chubby one said, reaching to Spencer’s head with pink sticker in hand.

Reid’s shoulder tensed at that even more, Luke noticed another sticker on the other side of his head. It made blood boil in his veins.

- Touch him again, I dare you – Alvez barely recognized his own voice, sounding so cold and dangerous even Spencer looked at him worried.

- Chill man, we’re just messing with him.

- We have four bodies, two kidnapped women and approximately fifteen hours to find them alive. My pretty boy is the only one trying to find them out of the three of you so address him as the doctor he is and do not touch him ever again or you two morons will have to mess with me. Don’t try me.

Next thing he knew the doors were loudly closed when two newbies left the room. He looked worried at younger man, putting coffee cups on the table.

- Are you okey? – he asked, not realizing it was the first time he called him pretty boy out loud since their first case months ago.

He avoided it but couldn’t help it, the cute nickname stucked in his head, fitting the genius perfectly. Carefully, he took the pink sticker out of his hair and handed it to Reid, so he could use it again on the map.

- Yes, thank you.

Spencer focused on the task in front of him, putting the messed stickers in the right places before looking up at him shyly.

- You didn’t have to help me here.

- Yes, I had to – he smiled softly before he sat next to him, taking a sip of his coffee – So, tell me what you found. I could hear your brain working down the hall.

Spencer started explaining everything, focusing back on the case and not on the way Luke looked at him the whole time.

- You never told me how the rest found out about you being bisexual.

Hush voice broke silence as both of them was in their beds in a hotel room, unable to fall asleep.

- I had a boyfriend, Ethan, few years ago – he started after a moment of consideration - it wasn’t anything serious and didn’t last long. He helped me… discover that part of me. He was two years older, doing master’s degree in international relations as I was doing the Phd in physics. We met on the campus by accident. Anyway, it was short but… sweet, I’d say. He was very respectful of my every choice, we just weren’t… compatible. Few years later we worked on a case and they were considering him an unsub. I knew he would never hurt anyone, so I had to explain to them that he was not that kind of a person. It slipped that we were a thing during his interrogation. Derek took me on the side and asked directly what is it about and eventually I came out to the whole team. It wasn’t a big moment or anything, I just never considered it as anyone’s business. Next month him and Pen took me to a pride parade in D.C. and JJ with Hotch started acting a bit more protective whenever the case included queer people.

Luke listened to every word, trying to ignore the irrational jealousy in his chest at the thought of Spencer with another man. It was a closed chapter but somehow made him feel… threatened.

- You called me your pretty boy today – Spencer added quietly when Luke didn’t say anything after his story.

- Did I? I’m sorry – he whispered back, recalling the moment of not biting his tongue on time.

- I’m not mad. Just… curious. You called me your pretty boy. Why?

Luke froze for a moment, trying to find an acceptable reason or lie for Spencer. There wasn’t any.

- I know you don’t like others calling you that, but… It fits you so well, you know? You’re just so beautiful inside and out and I couldn’t help but think about you like that even when I didn’t want to say it out loud. I’m really sorry I did it today. They crossed a line and looks like I did too.

The tension in the dark room nearly suffocated him, as he waited for his friend’s reaction.

- I liked it – soft confession finally broke the silence around them as Spencer fixed his position to look at the side profile of the older man – made me feel… safe again.

- When I called you pretty boy? – Luke also turned on his side to look at Reid, confused.

- When you called me yours.

Alvez smiled, looking at the genius in the next bed, able to notice him blushing in the moonlight.

- Does that mean I can call you pretty boy from now?

- That means you can call me your pretty boy from now.

Luke smiled a little, reaching out to Spencer as he intertwined their fingers in the gap between two beds.

- My pretty boy. I like that. Can I call you other ways too?

- Like what? – the confusion in Reid’s voice made him smile a bit more, biting his lip.

- My… partner? Boyfriend? – the last one barely audible but Spencer heard that loud and clear like it was a bomb blowing off in between them.

- Conventionally, you should take me on a date first – he finally replied, looking at him with a soft smile – then probably kiss me as you would walk me home, then ask about being your boyfriend.

- I should – he smiled a little, realizing Spencer didn’t say “no” just yet.

- Good thing we’re past conventions and first dates – Reid squeezed his hand slightly – I like to do things backwards anyway – added, smiling at him shyly – so yes, you can call me your boyfriend or your pretty boy or your partner, as long as it includes the “yours” part.

- My everything then – Luke got up just to kneel next to Spencer’s bed – and I believe as we start from the end, the next step is the kiss?

Reid looked up at him, smiling softly but a bit nervously. Never in his wildest dreams he would picture a scenario like this one.

- Yes, I think that was the middle step of that.

He didn’t manage to back the words with a nod before he felt full, warm lips on his. He closed his eyes and opened his mouth, kissing back the man he dreamed about for the past few months, releasing his fingers from the grip just to put his arms around his neck. He sighed surprised, feeling warm tongue on his, before biting it slightly, causing other man to gasp before breaking the kiss. Spencer slowly opened his eyes, looking up at him. Skin on his chin a bit red from the two-days stubble of Lukes, starry eyes looking into the older ones, shining from the full moon light outside.

- Wow – that was all he managed to say, making the older man smile widely.

- Wow – he repeated before kissing his lips again, this time the kiss was slow, sweet and short – that sounds like an interesting dinner when we get back home – he whispered by his lips.

Spencer lifted his hand, brushing his thumb on rough cheek.

- Don’t make it just one dinner.

Luke smiled happily, looking at the younger boy with nothing but love and affection, taken aback by the mirroring feelings in his partner’s eyes.

- There will be more than one, my pretty boy. As many as you let me.

[the-foolish-scholar]

The Emperor

The Emperor tarot card is the father archetype of the tarot deck and the fourth card in the Major Arcana. The Emperor card shows a stoic ruler, sitting on a throne decorated with four ram heads. The four ram heads indicate the ruler’s connection with the first sign of the zodiac, Aries, which is related to planet Mars, the planet of action. The Emperor holds an orb in their left hand which stands for the kingdom that they rule. In the ruler’s right hand, there is an ankh, the Egyptian symbol of life. The red robe that they wear indicates energy, power, and passion for life. Underneath the robe, exists armor signifying protection from harm. The Emperor’s white beard represents the wisdom that comes along with age and experience. Over time the Emperor has learned what it takes to rule, establish power, and erect order for the benefit of the people. Behind the throne, there exists a mountain range, symbolizing the difficult journey that must be taken in order to obtain power. At the foot of the mountain range, a small river flows, providing the viewer with a sense of hope as it represents the emotional side of The Emperor, something that is challenging to reach but exists nevertheless.

-

I didn’t post again on Sunday because of the Superbowl. I was too busy running errands in the afternoon to write. I don’t even know how to start this blog post. My mind is elsewhere. Life for me in El Salvador has been progressing well but I can’t stop thinking about what happened last night. I’m angry that this has become such a common occurrence in American society that I am no longer shocked to find out that there was another shooting.

I remember when Newtown happened so vividly. I was at the orthodontist’s office in the waiting room, scrolling through Instagram. I saw that picture of the mom crying while on the phone in a pair of under armor pants and a white long sleeve top. I turned to my mom shocked about what had happened. She told me to quiet down so that I did not scare the other kids in the waiting room. The next day at school our principal made an announcement assuring us that we were safe, which was comforting, but also just a blatant lie.

Kids these days go to school knowing that they run the risk of dying. So many mass shootings have happened since I was a child that I can’t even keep track of them anymore. I used to be able to remember all the different shootings, where they happened, the name of the shooter, and how many had died; but now I can barely remember them. I remember Newtown because it was the first school shooting that I ever heard about. I remember Parkland because it created the March for Our Lives. I remember Oxford because it happened in Michigan. And now I will remember MSU because Evan FaceTimed me to tell me that there was a shelter in place and I will remember how he had to lay down in the dark with his door barricaded for hours.  

This wasn’t even Evan’s first time dealing with this sort of thing. While no shots were ever fired, when he was in middle school two of his classmates developed a plan to lock everyone in the gym and shoot their fellow students. When Evan was in high school, a bullet was found on school grounds, snapchats of it circled around, and everyone was terrified. This time, it got a lot more real. Ever since my brother was in middle school, he was acutely aware that it could happen at any moment and last night it finally did.

It was so frustrating to be so powerless last night. All I could do was text him and hope that he would answer. Thankfully he did, every time. But others weren’t as lucky. And my heart breaks for them. I don’t want to accept this as the status quo, even though it has been for the past decade.

Today I met with students at the University of Central America to have a conversation about how we can reimagine education and academia. I spoke with them about my work with the Urban Cohort and I talked about the violence that exists within America’s education system. I shared with them a mindfulness exercise to do in moments where they felt stressed or unsafe. I've shared the same exercise with students I've worked with back home in the states. I don’t know what else there is to do at this point. All I can do (by myself) is try to minimize the anxiety and emotional harm our children experience. No matter what politician I vote for, no matter what I say on social media, no matter what I do, nothing changes. More kids will die. More teachers will die. Our communities will continually be attacked by these ‘lone wolfs’ who have the might of the gun lobby supporting them.

I wish I knew a solution. But I don’t. I don’t know if anyone does right now. Nothing that would work with the current power structure in place anyway. If we want to eradicate this issue, we need to get serious. We need to stop treating this from a downstream approach and start treating this from an upstream approach. When you see one baby floating down a river, you jump in and save it. When you see hundreds of babies floating down a river, you walk upstream and find out who’s putting them there.

I’m just shouting into the void and echoing a bunch of arguments that have already been said and that you’ve probably read dozens of times over. It almost feels pointless to say anything at this point. But we must keep talking about it. It’s the only way we might be able to come up with an innovative approach and actually solve this problem.

I think a good place to start is to start asking why. Why have we sat around and accepted this for so long? Why have the protests to stop this issue failed? Why do those in power not use it to create change? And then we should start asking how. How do we show those in power that we won’t sit around and take this any longer? How do we construct a movement that will preserve itself? How do we force those in power to make change? And when we ask how, we should also ask who has succeeded in the past? And when we know who, we should ask what did they do to succeed?

History is often taught from the top down rather than the bottom up. It is pertinent that we remember that President Johnson signed the Civil Rights Act into law because the activists in the Black community got organized, holding a series of boycotts and protests, demanding that he do it.

Read up on your history. Work in your communities. Talk to your neighbors. Create unity instead of division. Change the world.

[highpope]

pieced together pt. one

posting here too because not that many people have seen it also sorry for the weird spacing idk what’s going on

JJ Maybank x pogue reader - season 2 fic

spoiler warning!

You laid in bed watching the rain hit your windows, the radio downstairs faintly describes the fate of the world. You can’t make out complete sentences without straining, but you have heard enough from the last few days to know there were no updates about John B and Sarah. The radio has been on for days on end, your parents not wanting to miss any possible update about your friends or the storm that seemed never-ending. It was like it rained for years. It was a constant reminder of the night your two best friends were driven out into the storm and everything changed. You could hear Shoupe’s words in the back of your mind, “we lost ‘em' ' on a constant loop. You could see Kiara’s face and JJ’s hands and Pope’s heart shatter. Like all the stars had come falling down and you were the only one left to pick up all the pieces. You prayed this was all a nightmare. You could wake up and not only would they both be here, but you’d all be safe. You would give up the gold a hundred times over if it meant John B and Sarah would be home.

Both Pope and Kie’s parents had called your mom every night since that day. When she thought you were asleep, she would creep down the stairs and sit in the kitchen and cry, praying they had some good news. Something that could take away some of the pain you were in. But she couldn’t, no one could. You had to hear half the town talk about John B like he was a murderer like he kidnapped Sarah like he was some delusional kid from the cut. All while you knew the Cameron’s were roaming free and receiving sympathy for what they’re going through. It made you sick to think about. They had a private funeral for Sarah. People gave their condolences and spoke so kindly about her. They scoffed at her recent behavior and her newfound friendship from “those dirty pogues.”

Sometime around day two, your mom came into your room asking if you had heard from JJ. He had been with the Heyward’s up until that morning when he’d completely disappeared.

For a second, you felt something other than grief, knowing he had been with Pope and not his dad, but that was short-lived. You tried to imagine how peaceful it would have been under different circumstances, a world in which he was always safe. One where Luke Maybank had no control over his life. You wanted to get lost in that daydream, live in that alternative reality for a while. He wouldn’t have to keep a duffel bag full of clothes and cash under your bed for when things got bad. He wouldn’t have to know how to do stitches on himself or how to pop a dislocated shoulder back in place. He’d be safe. He’d be happy. She asked again if you had heard from JJ, snapping you back to reality. (you had not). You watched as her forehead creased and her lips straightened into a thin line, like something in her had broken too.

She hurts just as much as you do. At first, you contributed that to her not being able to take away your pain, which is part of it. But you later realized she’s lost a person, too. You had known John B since grade school, there were pictures of the group of you sitting on your swing set in your backyard at age nine. Ones of you, JJ, John B, and Pope asleep in your living room after attempting to build a fort. He stayed for dinners and birthday parties. She watched us grow up, every first day of school, soccer game, fishing tournament. Our families had somehow combined over the years. Not only does your mom hurt for you, but she lost a child. And that weight is heavier than anything.

You stopped crying by day three. Nothing left. You were completely and utterly numb but consumed by loss all at the same time. You hadn’t initially worried about JJ. He did this. He disappeared for a little, to clear his head, but he always came back. He never stayed away for more than three days. That’s how long it took for him to feel balanced again, maybe less, but never more. He said it was because he couldn’t get a burger as good as the ones at The Wreck anywhere else in the world, but you knew how much he loved the outer banks and the people there. You also knew that he’d never leave without you. And if he absolutely had to, he would at least say goodbye. He had to, he promised. You held on to that every time his phone went straight to voicemail. And when days four and five came and went and you still haven’t heard from him, you were worried. He should’ve crawled through your window in yesterday’s clothes with a few more scratches on his arm than he left with, but his eyes would glow a little brighter and he would still smile when you insisted he spends the night. So, when you cracked your window open and slept with your bedside lamp on (so that he could see the light from outside) and he still wasn’t there when you awoke, your mourning turned into something else. You sent a few texts, in case he somehow got them, but you were doubtful.

You didn’t know what it was like to live without him. There wasn’t a time in your life you could remember when you and JJ weren’t attached at the hip. Sometime around kindergarten, you two became inseparable, ultimately meeting John B and Pope as you got older and Kie when you all got to junior high. There was a weird couple of months around third grade where he decided girls had cooties, but it was short-lived because when JJ realized that meant you couldn’t be friends anymore he thought it was dumb and started coming over again. You couldn’t exactly pinpoint when your relationship changed, the lines between friendship and something more merging and becoming blurred. If you had to, for you it was the start of sophomore year. Something changed when you were together, even just sitting in silence was comfortable and exciting. Eyes started lingering, touches became more frequent, and then one day you were just together. It’s been the same since. You think back to the first time you kissed like a couple. It definitely hadn’t been the first time the two of you had ever kissed. You were sure there had been at least one during your childhood and you vividly remember a New Year’s Eve party and a couple of games of truth or dare. But this time it was different. There was something behind it.

You and JJ sat side by side in the hammock outside of John B’s. He was smoking while using his one leg to rock the two of you slowly back and forth. You were struggling to keep your eyes open and pay attention to whatever story was being told. JJ must have noticed because he wrapped an arm around you, inviting you to lay on his chest.

This wasn’t uncommon between you. JJ was always physically affectionate toward the people he cared about and you had no problem reciprocating. You stayed just like that until it was just the two of you left outside.

JJ shifted slightly under your weight causing you to wake up. “Shit, sorry. You okay?” he asked, tossing the tip of the blunt into the fire.

You nodded, “mhm.” You looked around, realizing how dark it had gotten, “You could’ve woken me up! It’s late.”

“You looked peaceful.”

You pretended to clutch your heart, “JJ Maybank being nice? Dare I say sweet?”

“Shut up,” he said, rolling his eyes. He was smiling at you like you were the funniest person in the world.

“ No, no. You care about me,” you joked, poking his chest with your finger, “you loooove me.”

“ Yeah?” he challenged, arching an eyebrow.

“Yeah,” you said, your breath suddenly catching in your throat.

“What if I do?” He asked, but it wasn’t a question. His face was serious, a glimmer of hope in his crystal eyes.

You look slightly from his eyes to his lips. If JJ noticed he didn’t lead on. He just slowly bridged the gap between you, your noses brushing for a moment before your lips connected. It was slow and careful, not wanting to push too far, but all the same, wanting to completely unravel the other. His hand cupped your cheek, his rings cold against your flushed face as you leaned into the kiss.

You heard faint screams and cheers from inside the chateau and Pope’s “Finally!” echo out. You could feel him smiling and soon enough you were both laughing. You had finally come together and nothing would take that away.

On day six, the rain stopped and the world carried on as normal. You wanted to yell at every person you saw. How could anyone feel so neutral about anything that happened in the last week? The sheriff was dead, there was a murderer on the loose, your two best friends were gone, and your boyfriend was missing. But yeah, go ahead and go to the grocery store like any other Wednesday morning. Someone tell the earth, it’s not supposed to keep spinning after the world ends.

You were lying on your bed, staring at your ceiling as you tried to fall asleep, a breeze flowed through your window and your lamp illuminated the room. All you could hear were cicadas and the wind rustling through the trees until you heard your window creak and slide open. You tried to process everything all at once, your eyes scanning over every part of his body, trying to meet his eyes. He was wearing the same clothes he had on the last time you saw him. There was dirt under his fingernails and his face was puffy from crying. His lip was cracked and covered in dry blood and bruises littered his jaw and hands. You could cry at the mere sight of him. Before either of you could speak, you collided.

You held his head to your chest and placed kisses on his hairline. You tried to wipe your tears before he could see them, but it was no use. The two of you were a tangle of arms and legs, of broken hearts and misguided minds, so desperately trying to tell the other it was going to be okay without believing it yourself.

“I miss him so much,” he sobbed. Your heart fell to your stomach and everything you had pushed down the past few days came rushing back.

“Me too,” you breathed. JJ’s arms wrapped around your stomach and he buried his head into your neck. You stayed like this for what felt like hours, thinking that if you held on long enough the two of you wouldn’t fall apart.

You heard your door open slightly and you quickly turned your head to see your mom stood there, tears brimming her eyes. You can visibly see her shoulders relax as she lets out a sigh. Your door closes softly as if not to disturb you both. You hear her on the other side of the door, “he’s here. He’s okay.”

“My dad’s gone,” he murmured into your neck.

You can physically feel your heart break for the boy in your arms and the younger version of him, trying to find a space he belongs and mourning the only one he ever found. You want so badly to hold him together, paint all of his scars golden. To remind him how much people love him, how much you love him, but no words come out.

“Guess he finally picked up and left, son of a bitch” His voice wobbled, “I went back, uh, that night to find the necklace John B gave me.”

He pulled away so he could talk directly to you. You cupped his cheeks and swiped the tears with your thumbs before they could fall. He laughed dryly, remembering, “Climbed through my bedroom window and everything. It should’ve taken two minutes tops but it wasn’t on my dresser like I thought it was. I tore my room apart looking for it. And then my dad came home and heard me, uh he was not happy to see me, as you can imagine.”

“Did he hurt you?” you ask, moving farther away from him to make sure he wasn’t bleeding or worse.

He grabs your hands and brings them to his chest, “I’m okay, I promise.”

“Is that where you were? The past few days,”

He nods, “yeah. I woke up the next day and he was gone. I was just going to get my stuff and go, but I don't know. Something wasn’t right.” He pauses to gather his thoughts, “They all really do leave, huh?”

“Don’t say that,” you urge.

“I’m just-”

“No. Do not think like that. None of this is your fault. Your dad is a fucking awful person for not loving you like you need to be loved. Like you deserve to be loved. And John B-” your voice cracks, “John B would never leave us if he didn’t have to and, and you have me. I couldn’t ever leave you. I wouldn’t know what to do with myself

He kisses your knuckles, “I know, I know. He just has so much power over the way I think.”

“But you know. You know you are nothing like him.”

He nods, not meeting your eyes.

“These past few days, J. You scared me.”

“I’m sorry,” he says, leaning his forehead against yours.

“Don’t disappear on me, okay?”

“Never.” He pushes his lips to yours, urgent and longing. You move your hands to his head, bringing him closer, trying to pour yourself into him.

[bokutosworld]

over again | iwaizumi hajime

pairing: iwaizumi x gn!reader word count, genre: 1.8k words, angst + fluff in the beginning. warnings: mentions of death, car accident.  summary: he blames himself for the past but you help him take the first step to moving on. a/n: @ricerice​ i promised i’d tag you in an iwa angst so hope you enjoy this hahah

—

“Iwaizumi!” 

Who’s there?

“Hajime!” 

Huh?

“Babe!” 

Iwaizumi’s blinded by the harsh sunlight when he opens his eyes. Where am I? He hears people laughing in the distance, children running about, and waves breaking at the shore. With an outstretched hand, he feels the texture of hot, grainy sand beneath his touch. The next thing he finds is the warmth of another person’s hands. 

“Hajime, get up! This is no time for sleeping under the shade.”

He comes to his senses and his vision clears to make out a familiar face. You were hovering over his body, blocking the sun from his eyes and he could see how you were smiling so happily at him. 

He gets up from his lying position and cups your cheeks, thumbs grazing your face so tenderly as if he’s afraid to break you. He tugs you for an embrace, his hold tightening for every second that passes. 

Worried, you wrap your arms around his torso. “What’s wrong? Are you ill?” 

And that’s when you feel it. Tears streaming down his face and leaving a trail on your neck. Your heart quickens and you pull back to see him silently sobbing. 

“Why are you crying?” 

He opens his mouth to say something, but no words come out. Because even he doesn’t know the reason why he suddenly broke down. It came out of nowhere, his chest constricting at the sight of you and the overwhelming feeling of longing and desperation. 

You’re wiping his tears and he catches your palm, bringing it to his lips. Finally, he smiles, “Nothing’s wrong. Shall we go take a swim?” 

— 

Is this dèjá vu? 

Iwaizumi could swear that he’s been in this exact spot in the exact same time with you. Like he was experiencing it all over again. If he dug around in his mind, he could pull out a similar memory where you were enjoying the feel of the water in your feet and calling out for him to join. 

Maybe it was just a coincidence. 

He decides to stop overthinking and relaxes his tense body. Approaching you with a smile, he surprises you when he places an arm under your knees and your waist and lifts you with ease. 

“Hajime,” you exclaim, hitting his biceps. 

He spins the both of you, the water splashing around before letting you fall in the water. You’re completely soaked, hair sticking to the sides of your face when you come up to breathe and Iwaizumi’s bending over his knees as he laughs.

The thing about Iwaizumi is that he has a beautiful laugh, his eyes often turning into crescents and the sound is music to your ears. It’s rare for him to openly show emotions unlike others you know who wear their hearts on their sleeves. You’d have to be someone he was comfortable with, someone he trusts before getting the privilege of seeing the rarest sides of him.

And to Iwaizumi, you have always been that person. 

You grab his hand and pull him so he could join you in the cool seawater. It takes a moment before he comes up for air and when he does, he’s grinning with a mischievous look in his eyes. You feel his arm around your waist, pulling you closer until your lips are only a hair’s breadth away. 

“Are you happy right now?” He asks. 

Humming, you grab at his shoulders and press your forehead to his. “I am.” 

“Good,” he says before leaning for a kiss. It’s gentle, it’s passionate, and it captures a million loving thoughts and emotions that neither of you could ever translate in words. You feel him smile into the kiss before breaking apart. 

“You taste salty,” you tease to hide how he has just literally taken your breath away. 

He chuckles and in your closeness, you feel his heart racing. “That’s your fault. You nearly drowned me in the water.” 

Rolling your eyes, you hit at his bare chest and make a move towards dry land.

“I’m hungry! Let’s go get something.” 

As he watches you go back to your lounge chair and grab a towel to dry off, the scene before him blurs. He shakes his head, blinks once and twice before you were fading right in front of him. He calls your name and catches you look back at him before all he could see was black. 

— 

When he comes to his senses, he finds himself laying with his head on your lap. Your fingers are softly brushing through his hair, the gesture ushering him in a state of euphoria and he thinks could go back to sleep. 

But then he remembers what happened and he’s up. 

“You’re awake.” He senses something was different with how the corners of your lips turned upwards solemnly. Your eyes glossed with something he couldn’t describe. 

“How long was I out?”

“Well, you missed lunch. And we’re the only ones left here,” you inform him. Your gaze looking past the vast ocean. 

Iwaizumi turns to where you were looking and he’s mesmerized. By now, the sun has set and the sky was turning from clear blue to warm orange hues. He looks at you and his heart jumps, admiring the glow of your sun-kissed skin. 

“Have you realized it yet?” You break the silence. 

What are you talking about? 

You glance at Iwaizumi with a sad smile. When he doesn’t answer, you take it as your cue to continue speaking. “Do you remember when we took our first trip to the beach right after we graduated from high school?”

He listens. 

“It was our first out-of-town date as a couple and I was so nervous to be alone with you,” you chuckle at the distant memory. “But you made it easy. You were such a gentleman, you never made me uncomfortable, and every moment with you felt natural.

“That day, I had the most fun that I’ve had in my years of existence,” you turn to him, eyes boring deep in his and you smile. “That was my favorite memory of us.” 

As if a lightbulb flashed in his head, Iwaizumi finally makes sense of what’s happened. Why the earlier events seemed so familiar to him. 

Because, indeed, they have already happened. 

He feels something in the pit of his stomach and he averts his gaze, looking at anywhere but you. He observes how the clouds look superficial, how the waters before him look almost imaginary, how you look alive. 

His voice is trembling when he asks, “This is all a dream, isn’t it?” 

“That’s right.” 

And for the second time, he cries. Oh god. Of course, this can’t be real. Of course, this was all a figment of his imagination. He’s been praying for this opportunity to spend time with you again. 

 “It’s good to see you, Hajime.” 

Because you weren’t in his life anymore. 

He crumbles in front of you, shoulders shaking violently as he weeps for you. He’s saying something but it’s incomprehensible. He reaches for your hand and you take it, feeling the strong grip on your palm.

“Why?” I have longed for you for days, months. “Why show yourself only now?” 

“You’re still suffering. And I don’t like to see you hurting.”  

“I’m sorry, so, so sorry,” he mutters repeatedly. 

You cradle his shaking body. “Shh, Hajime. Stop blaming yourself. It’s not your fault. It’s no one’s fault.” 

He remembers the day it happened so vividly in his mind. It was unpredictable and it happened in a blink of an eye—he could still hear the tires screeching, could still feel the impact of the collision, could still picture himself with you inside that car when it went flying across the street. 

Despite the immediate assistance from an ambulance, the doctors at the hospital declared you as dead on arrival. And when he woke up three days after the incident, he couldn’t believe the news he was hearing. He wanted everything so badly to be a bad dream, wanted to be able to hold you and hear your voice one more time. 

Losing you felt like he lost a part of himself too. 

“I miss you,” he croaked. “I miss you everyday it hurts.” 

“I know.” You hold him close for a while. “I’m only given one chance to visit someone in their dreams so I want to make this worthwhile. Iwaizumi, I want you to move on. For my sake and yours.” 

It takes him a while to calm down, only reveling in the moment when he could finally touch you, talk to you, and hear you even if it was only in his dreams. 

“I can’t,” he stutters. “I can’t move on. There are pieces of you in everywhere I go, everywhere I look. On my table, there’s still the coffee cup you always used when you come to my apartment. Your toothbrush is still sitting beside mine in the bathroom.

And your parents, god knows I’m thankful for them. But every time, they call to check up on me, I’m reminded of you and how I let you die.” 

“It’s not your fault. Stop thinking of that.” Your heart shatters whenever he says that. “No one expected that to happen. And I’m also frustrated and heartbroken that I can’t be with you anymore.”

There’s a long minute where neither of you say anything. The two of you just holding on to one another and savoring the moment. 

“I have always dreamt of growing old with you,” you whisper dreamily. “We’d own a house and live there with our children. I was thinking one boy and one girl. I’m sad that I can’t make that happen with you anymore. But you have a whole life ahead of you. I’m still rooting for you to achieve your dreams, you know?” 

Finally, he laughs as he’s slowly coming to terms with his reality. 

“Forever and ever. That’s how long I said I loved you and that has not changed. Even when I’m already gone, I will always be,” you rest your hand on his chest near where his heart lies. “Here.”  

He grabs your wrist and intertwines his fingers with yours before kissing them. He doesn’t want to let go of you again. He’s already lost you once and he’s not about to lose you again, wishing that he could stay in this dream forever. 

As he’s about to tell you something, he’s brought out of his unconsciousness and his eyes fall to the empty space in his bed. The sheets feel damp and it’s only when he touches his face that he realizes he’s been crying in his sleep. It’s cold when he reaches out to your side of the bed, thinking back to the nights you slept beside him and he felt content. 

He remembers what you said. 

Forever and ever. That’s how long I said I loved you. 

He wills himself to be comforted by those words, repeating them in his mind like a chant until he finds peace and falls back to sleep. He hopes that tomorrow will be better. 

[peachy-panic]

Only Temporary: Sebastian Tate

Hello. I was completely blown away by the positive response I got on the first piece of Jaime’s story (title under construction). Thank you to everyone who had a kind word to say about it! You made me really happy I made the mildly frightening choice to post.

In the interest of acclimating to the no-rules, freedom-to-post-out-of-order structure of this community, I wanted to introduce a new piece of the puzzle this time, with a new character that will come into play later.

Also, this piece goes into a little bit of the details, but for frame of reference on the BBU-adjacent thing: this story takes place in a not-so-distant future of the BBU, where WRU has undergone some changes. I look forward to exploring this world building more as I go.

Anyway, I’m rambling again. Thanks for reading. Here it is:

WARNINGS: General BBU warnings, talk of institutionalized slavery, classism, and general terribleness of large corporations. Referenced past homophobia and rough parental relationships, briefly implied/referenced non-con.

When Sebastian reflects on the day he graduated from med school, a sort of emptiness is the memory that first bobs to the surface. Among the cheers and camera flashes in the crowd, white coats and proud smiles, what Sebastian recalls most vividly from that day is looking out into the sea of parents and families and people there to support their loved ones on one of the biggest days of their lives, and not seeing a single person that had come for him.

What should have been one of the happiest moments of his life had been quickly overshadowed by the sinking feeling that none of it mattered as much as it would have if he had someone to share it with. Like there was something so fundamentally wrong with his life, that even something as objectively good and right and decent as becoming a doctor could be dulled over into a feeling of nothingness.

Perhaps, he thinks in hindsight, that moment had been foreshadowing for the following months ahead of him.

Watching rejection after rejection pour in from his top residency programs had felt like nothing short of his own personalized nightmare. He had spent several nights in a row on the phone with Alex, his undergrad roommate and only friend, clamoring back from the edge of many a panic attack, spiraling into all-out existential dread about the future and the past and what all of it meant for him if he couldn’t land an internship, let alone a real job out of school. To his credit, Alex never gave up hope in his friend. Or at least, he did a decent job hiding it if he did. Which was probably exactly what Sebastian needed to get through that particularly dark time in his life, and a good reminder of what a solid friend he had. Even if it was a party of two.

Unfortunately, Sebastian did not have the same faith in himself.

He was able to keep up some facade of optimism as his top five were picked off one by one. Telling himself, despite his devastation, that they were a pretty far reach, anyway. Even with good academic standing, it was famously no walk in the park to land yourself at John Hopkins or Mayo as a first-year. He even maintained a brave face as his first few safety programs reached capacity and moved forward without his name on the roster.

It wasn’t until he received his final rejection letter from some internal medicine place in Bumfuck, Idaho that he felt himself slip into dangerous territory. Sebastian knew himself well enough to know his own depressive patterns by then, and he knew it was only exponential decay from there.

Rock bottom came, as it did, in the wee hours of the night, after a full bottle of wine. Alone in his small apartment, surrounded by half-packed boxes with no destination, Sebastian found himself sprawled out on the floor with his laptop hot against his thighs. He couldn’t have explained why he opted for a privacy browser, but something about it allowed him to justify the words that he typed into the search bar.

It was a new low, and one he had sworn to himself he would never stoop to. Yet there he was.

He gave himself a moment to reconsider, to back out of what was undoubtedly a morally-gray train wreck waiting to happen as his thumb hovered over the enter key. And then the alcohol decided to override his moral compass.

Facility Care is the open secret of the medical profession. It comes with its fair share of stigma, and rightfully so, but it is notoriously easy to break into and pays a decent wage.

There are two types of people who end up stooping to that kind of employment. More often than not, it consists of doctors and nurses who had their licenses revoked or suspended somewhere along the line and needed a way back in. As far as Sebastian understood, they aren’t terribly ridgid about the particulars of each circumstance. After all, in the eyes of the law, the patients they would be treating are a price tag away from being entirely expendable.

The other percentage of Facility Care workers, and the reason Sebastian found himself staring at his too-bright computer screen with a sinking feeling of dread that night, are young medical graduates who find themselves in a tough spot. It isn’t difficult to spell out the logic behind that one when you open the WRU CAREERS tab on the home page and see the bright white words printed across the top of the screen:

LOAN FORGIVENESS.

It is shamelessly predatory and aggressively capitalistic, but Sebastian supposes that particular exploitation is pretty far down on the list of transgressions for an institution of legalized slavery. A few broke and hopeless medical students were hardly going to keep the Powers That Be up at night when they were able to rest easy under the weight of hundreds of thousands of stolen lives.

The whole thing is part of the massive PR overhaul the company did a few years back. In a world that was slowly inching toward civil activism and with the accessibility of platforms like social media to hold them accountable, WRU had to adapt to survive. Adaptation, in this case, took the form of changing the barest of minimums in order to keep themselves above board — to the public eye, anyway. Anyone who dares to take a closer look at the policy changes can see that it’s bullshit.

Changing ownership conditions to a rent-by-contract basis isn’t the humanitarian move they try to paint it as. In the end, it probably just equals out to more money in the company’s pocket when they can get more return on their “investments,” and a larger chance of exploitation for the people being moved around.

Getting rid of the Romantic division is an entirely meaningless gesture when they are still loaning out human beings with no legal rights and the inability to say “no.”

And offering an open job market with good wages and healthcare options to lower class individuals is a pretty convenient way to mute the backlash.

Essentially, you can tie a system of slavery and abuse up in a bow and make it pretty on the outside, but at the end of the day, it’s still fucking slavery.

Not that he has any room to criticize now. Now that he’s one of them.

In the end, Seb tries to justify his decision a few different ways. He is, after all, more or less a young man alone in the world. The odds are stacked against him and have been for a while. With only his own two legs to stand on, the only force stronger than his internal ambition is his instinct for survival, and he’s been running on those fumes for longer than he can count.

He had lasted less than two months under his parents’ roof after he came out of the closet at eighteen. It wasn’t exactly a surprise for anyone involved; Sebastian’s parents had known about (and subsequently bottled) his… urges… since he was in high school. Probably before that, if he is being honest with himself. And Sebastian, for his part, had spent the better part of his teenage years mentally preparing for the inevitable. He can recall long, late nights he had spent crying into his pillow and the perfectly-scripted ‘coming out’ speeches he recited to his mirror when he was one-hundred percent sure his parents were asleep.

Of course, none of the preparation had been anywhere near adequate when he actually found himself wilting beneath the heat of his father’s glare, the weight of his mother’s grief.

But. He had recovered. That is the point he tries to remember when the memories sting fresh beneath his skin, even all these years later. He has more-than proven himself to be a survivor. He has worked harder than anyone he knows for every scholarship, every grant, every dollar to put himself through school. Sacrificed nights out and real relationships for night shifts at shitty diners and long weekends cramming for exams. It hadn’t been easy, but he considers it the price he had to pay for his independence. For freedom, to live the life as the person he is meant to be, despite his unfortunate odds. He spent years telling himself it would be worth it. That one day, his hard work would pay off.

He can’t stop now.

Sebastian doesn’t have the luxury of taking time off to reroute when his navigation has gone amiss. He is walking the precarious line of rapidly accruing interest and student loans and a dwindling savings account, and there is no safety net below him.

Beggars can’t be choosers, and as it turns out, beggars sometimes have to compromise their moral integrity in order to survive.

It’s only temporary.

That is the mantra that gets him through the (half-drunken) application process and the (disturbingly lax) interview process. It is a job. One job. In the medical field, though the details are up for debate, and it is real-life money for rent and food and a savings that will hopefully be sizable enough to get him where he really wanted to be. Which is… really, anywhere else.

He can do ‘temporary.’ And perhaps, some misguided part of him thinks he can do some genuine good from the inside, too. ‘Be the change you want to see’ and all that.

It is a far jump from the floor of his apartment, sloshed and exhausted and desperate, to the cold, sharp reality of walking into his place of employment on his first day of work. Ironically, it feels a lot like an echo of the emptiness from his graduation day.

‘Sterile’ doesn’t quite cover it. ‘Sterile’ is the expectation of any well-respected medical establishment, but the inside of the facility walls has been wiped clean of far more than bacteria and germs. It is completely devoid of humanity. The long corridors that connect the medical wing to the general ward are windowless and dimly lit by flickering fluorescent panels that had make his head pound for the entirety of his first week.

He is given an office, though it is a term he, himself, might use loosely, as it is more akin to what was probably a storage closet before the old prison had been converted into the state’s training headquarters. It leaves him just enough space for a small desk and two chairs. On his first day, he asks if it is okay to bring in some personal items to spruce the place up. The older, balding doctor who had been assigned to show him around merely shrugs, and Sebastian decides to take that as a yes.

The small, pink-framed photo of a six-year-old Sebastian Tate in his grandfather’s white coat and an old-school stethoscope around his neck is hardly enough to make the place cozy from the corner of his desk, but it’s a good enough reminder of why he has to make this work.

‘It’s only temporary.’

‘Be the change you want to see.’

He will do his best.

[mochii0park]

 meraki; chapter 01 I jhs

Title: Meraki

Pairing: Hoseok x Reader / Jin x Reader

Part of series: Waterlilies and Japanese Bridge

Genre: angst I fluff

Pairing: literaryscout!hoseok x writer!reader

Word count: 4.5k

Summary: Throughout your whole life you lived in your sister’s shadow, watching from side-lines as she formed herself into a successful businesswoman with an envying life. Never being able to fill her shoes you gradually understood the meaning of an estranged family and the burden it carried. The twenties began slowly slipping from your grasp which had been embedded with insecurities and longing for fulfilment. Pouring your heart out to strangers with a pseudonym meraki, you began second guessing the decision when an email lands in your inbox.

Author's note: unedited, it's 2am I'll reread it tomorrow

Taglist: if you want to be added to the taglist message me

@namsope32 , @cuteipat , @ofvopemin

Masterlist

Meraki masterlist

< intro | chapter 02 >

Seokjin got engaged and moved to the USA.

Your lanky fingers hover over the keyboard, the reality of the situation still lingering in the air. The send button felt heavy, as if the action would make a shift in your universe. You have already made mends with how things were going between you, but it still felt crushing.

Sucking up the little pride you had left after lying to your friend, you push the button and lock the phone hoping to gain some sanity in your walk back to the apartment. It had been a regular night out with your friends. Coffee chitchat alongside freshly baked cookies which you got as an apology for being late.

Your mutual friends felt the need to notify you of the sudden change in Seojkin’s life, wanting you to hear it from them first. Pushing it to the back of your mind as nothing but an additional fact, you continue through the night with a smile. That lasted until you the rounder the corner.

Seokjin had been your friend through university and even later as you grew up and struggled to make ends meet.  You had been there for him when his girlfriend of five years decided to dump his ass having a shift in her feelings towards him. You mended his heart through late night talks and rides across the city. He was your kiss partner after breakups, picking up your self-esteem and gluing it together. In conclusion, Seokjin was your everything. If only the feeling was mutual.

Days before deciding to confess to him, he blasts your phone with messages about a girl that pulled all the strings in his heart and awoke oceans of memories. Kim Jisoo was his high-school crush with whom he lost contact after entering his last relationship. Reconciling through social media the two hit off where they last left it and suddenly you became the dust under his shoes. 

Days turned into weeks, weeks turned into months of not seeing him. With a deeply rooted pain in your chest and a jealousy for the new girl in his life you stepped down allowing Jisoo to consume his being. Afterall who were you than a mere friend, easily replaceable.

The last slap came when you drunkenly confessed, having enough of their roller coaster like relationship. That was the last time you’ve heard of Seokjin’s teary-eyed voice telling you goodbye over the phone. No matter how many times he told you this sounded like the end and the suffering he felt was unbearable; it was nothing compared to the sound of your heart shattering into pieces.

Sehun told you many times that the timing was so off it made him uncomfortable, but that’s the thing about you and Seokjin. Everything was off with the two of you. From kisses to cuddles to nudes after midnight to serious conversations about pineapple pizza. Friends don’t do that, is what you kept telling yourself when the feelings for him slowly grew from platonic to romantic.

In midst of your thoughts your phone rang. Sehun the attachment dealer flashed across your phone. Giggling at the memory of how the nickname came to be, a warm feeling nest itself inside your chest. “Hello?”

“Where are you?”

“I left the Howl Cafe, I’m near home.”

He hums, the sound of the blinker echoing in the distance. “I’m there in five. Meet me at the bus station at beginning of your street.”

There were instances when disobeying Sehun felt like the biggest thrill of your life but right now when feelings you couldn’t pinpoint ran through you clouding your judgement, Sehun felt like a silver lining. As you wait for him to arrive, you can’t help but scroll through your phone in search for that one picture of Seokjin.

The only one you’ve saved after your last conversation. He was leaning against the wall of the bakery, a cigarette hanging from his mouth. His bleached hair fell over his rimmed glasses giving him an emo vibe. It was somewhere around three am when you’ve taken this photo. 

Both of you exhausted from running aimlessly around the city. He begged you to visit this bakery at the top of a hill, assuring you about the quality of their goods. You remember that night vividly, how you would steal a kiss or two in the shadows hiding from the reality. How he would woo you with his terrible French accent and you would answer him in your broken German.

You miss him. You miss him to the point where it physically hurt.

Sehun honks ever so caring about the people sleeping peacefully in their homes. He bursts into laughter at your jumpy reaction making you feel annoyed as you lock your phone. Settling yourself in his car you wait for his I told you so, but it never comes. Instead, he turns on his Spotify playlist clicking on Olivia Rodrigo’s good 4 u blasting it a such high volume all thoughts you had were overridden with the upbeat song.

Sehun had been your friend for the same amount Seokjin was. The two knew each other through a few short encounters, for some reason they never crossed paths for longer than ten minutes. For that you were thankful. The song comes to a finish and Sehun observes you from his seat. The lights of the city painted on the window illuminated your face, giving him a prefect view of your perplexed expression.

“How are you feeling?”

You knew he would ask this question, after all the sole reason you were driving on a highway was because of your damped mood but in whole honesty you didn’t know the answer.

“A part of me had expected it. He talked about marrying her, but he also talked about wanting to drop everything and own a cottage in Sweden.”

“Your taste in men is terrible. Remember Mark? The guy who had so many career goals but couldn’t leave his house because he thought having a life outside work was overly distracting for his oh so important career as IT support at ZARA? Or Mino who was so high you couldn’t recognise him when he dropped the weed after your breakup.” Sehun snorts.

You roll your eyes at him. Surely your boyfriend track wasn’t the best but it’s not like you seek out boys with issues, it seems that they attach themselves to you and you can’t get rid of them without a major heartbreak. “Whatever.”

Sehun stretches forward pulling your favourite chocolate bar out of the compartment, throwing it in your lap. You smile, munching on it as you switch the song to Zayn and Sia’s Dusk Till Dawn.

“I just expected him to inform me.”

Sehun shakes his head. “I am not sure why you expected that. You two haven’t shared one conversation in two months. You’ve asked for space when he told you he can’t choose between you and Jisoo. Plus, that was a dick move to be honest making him choose between his girlfriend and his best friend.”

“Space,” you emphasise,” not utter silence. He didn’t move two fucking blocks Sehun. He moved to a whole fucking country without telling a soul. Our mutual friend finds out through an Instagram story. Fucking Instagram. And I don’t care, he was a dick that started this charade might as well end it.”

By now you were fully shouting, the tears that threatened to spill before now rushing down your face. In this moment you didn’t care much about Sehun’s awkwardness regarding tears and crying, that was pushed aside when he backed Seokjin’s decision and pissed all over yours.

“Y/N,” he whispers, turning down the volume as you whimper, “there is not much you can do. You must respect his decision. You can’t force someone to love you.”

It was your turn to huff at the stupidity of his words. “I don’t know about you, but I don’t go about kissing people. Respect decision? Fuck that. Did he respect me when he made a fool out of me?

“No.”

Sehun exhales knowing that in this case you weren’t in the right mind to have a rational conversation. Seokjin was your weak point, he knew that much. Your emotions began to pour out, leaving you a sobbing mess in his car. 

“Look, I can’t stop you from having all sort of emotions for him. I can only advice you to turn off your phone for tonight and give yourself time to process the information before doing anything you might regret.”

 “I won’t blast his phone with insulting messages if that’s what you think.”

“Good, also don’t eat out your emotions. You can’t stand too much sugar in your system.” 

“Thanks doctor. I’ll just write out my emotions instead.” You say leaning into the seat, closing your eyes as you listen to the music.

“You still write on that blog?” You can hear some amazement in Sehun’s voice, and you know it’s not to mock you but to praise you for managing to stay faithful to one thing this long. You had a reputation for giving up on things in early stages because you couldn’t finish them perfectly.

The rest of the ride was spent with you eating out your emotions with the food Sehun bought from your local fast-food restaurant. Not much was said between you and him as he drove into the night letting you process the whole situation, only dropping you off at home when you felt yourself calming down.

Once in the confides of your room you strip yourself of any pent-up emotions letting all the pallet of different feelings overran you. Taking a pen, you let your heart pour into endless words scribbled away in your notebook. When you’ve felt empty the high gone, you take your laptop opening the site you’ve a long time member of. It came to you on Instagram in a form of a poorly done advertisement. It was a website for people wanting to share their poetry with strangers.

At first, you’ve done what you always do: began self-doubting your poems and their worth. Most of them were written in a spur of a moment when you felt like you would burst from the number of things you felt. But one night, when sleep couldn’t come to you and the pain of losing the person you held dear lingered in the air threatening to choke you; you signed in posting your work. It was raw and you suddenly felt exposed and naked in front of the world.

That’s how Meraki came to be. How your pseudonym became your shield, allowing you to burden it with any thought or emotion you’ve felt. In the online world Meraki was a fierce writer, letting her readers know of the pain and suffering she felt. In real world Meraki was an introverted person hiding herself from anyone willing to come close.

                                                   ____

 It was a hot Wednesday morning when you’ve gotten an e-mail from your sister informing you of her whereabouts. Due to your mother’s work preventing her from traveling, she decided to pay you a visit instead; much to your delight. The days to her wedding were numbered and so was your sanity.

Luckily for you she and her fiancée decided to stay with your parents.

The thought of her roaming the halls of the only place you’ve managed to cover in comfort was disturbing you. It wasn’t that you hated your sister but although you’ve dealt with your own insecurities some parts of the trauma still hung over you.

You’ve managed to avoid her for a good number of days since she landed in Seoul but now a week later you ran out of excuses. That’s how you found yourself sitting in a posh sea food restaurant, juggling your anxiety during the family dinner.

The last time you saw your whole family was at your grandfather’s birthday (which happened six months ago). The event left a bad taste in your mouth after you’ve spent majority of time listening to your sister’ success only receiving attention when she addressed you.

Solar and her fiancée Minho discussed the menu as they skimmed through different meals. You have been so busy staring at one spot that you’ve never noticed the waiter taking orders.

“Y/N?” Solar spoke catching your attention.

“One chicken fillet for me please.” You were so preoccupied with different thoughts you never saw what they had to offer therefore you went with your go-to food.

The moment the waiter leaves the table with the menus, your mother scoffs. “Aish you’re eating chicken again, we’re in an exclusive sea food restaurant and you’re embarrassing us.  “

“Mother, let her eat what she wants.” Solar interrupted your mother’s complaining, switching the topic to her wedding dress. Your mother beamed at the photos she showed her.

It was somehow sad how much power Solar had over your parents. One word was enough to ease them into doing whatever she liked whilst you had to beg and crawl your way and even then, you were no match for her.

You felt severely out of the place. The two talking about preparations while your father and Minho gushed over their new apartment in Tokyo. You sat there in your chair counting down minutes until you could leave. Any other day you wouldn’t bother to attend the dinner but now Solar insisted you showed up. Something about the sight of her family warming her heart, bunch of bullshit.

“How are you doing Y/N?” She asks ignoring your mother as she mumbles under her breath about your bad habits, one being smoking.

You took up smoking in your last year of university when the pressure of getting a master’s degree and balancing your parents had been too much to take in. A lot of your friends decided to find comfort in weed, but you never understood the thrill of it. Rather than spending enormous amounts for just one puff, you could buy a pack of cigarettes and still have money left for some booze.

“Not much, same old same old.” You answered pushing your nervousness away.

There wasn’t much happening in your life. You’ve started a job in a bookstore and spent your free time either with Sehun or Jihyo.

“How’s Seokjin?”

That one question had caught the table’s attention and suddenly you felt a terrible need to smoke one. Your families were acquainted through work, your fathers working together on a project. They had been shocked when they discovered that you and Seokjin had been close friends for a long time.

“He’s fine.”

“I heard he got engaged,” Your mother spoke up,” to Kim’s daughter Jisoo. Ah what a wonderful being that one is.”

“Oh?” Solar gave your mother a perplexed look narrowing her head at you. You played with the glass in front of you, the object suddenly becoming interesting.

“I thought you and he were dating.” Minho joined, telling the words that were stuck on the tip of your sister’s tongue.

“Y/N and Seokjin? Don’t make me laugh. They are worlds apart. Seokjin is so focused on his career while our Y/N thinks writing will make her a fortune.”

Taking a sip of water, you try your best to wash away the nasty words threatening to leave your mouth. Your parents never approved of your career choice not that you even cared about their opinion.

Solar hums pulling her lips into a straight line. “I’ve must’ve mistaken then. I was sure I saw you-“

“Here is your food.”

And that’s how you were saved from the embarrassment of having to explain to your sister that what she saw was imagination playing tricks on her and not you and Jin making out in front of your house. It was awkward enough when she pestered you about it the next day.

The conversation takes on a different dynamic and you breathe out in relief. You were still trying to process the news and talking about him wasn’t helping your soul.  You gather yourself before your façade could fall and mask it with a stoic expression continuing your countdown till desert when Sehun would call you for an “emergency”.

Right on time you think as your phone began to ring.

You pretend to gasp covering your mouth to show concern as Sehun sputtered nonsense. He kept talking about his trip to the gym and how his feet hurt from all the exercise he did while you tried not to show disgust as explained in detail how hit his little finger against a metal device . Solar shot you a worried look as you excused yourself from the table.

“And the award for the best actress goes out to Y/L Y/N” Sehun pitches once you close the door of the restaurant. Shooting a quick apology message to Solar, you jump into his car deJa’vu hitting you.

“I should get paid for spending so much time with you.” Sehun dripped in sweat, his black shirt sticking moistly to his body, hair pushed back.

You shrugged falling into a comfortable silence. Half an hour later he stops at the number 13, the windows of your house distinguishable by the large number of flowers catching last rays of Sun before the night settles.

“That will be 100 won and a Mcdonald’s later when you’re free.”

“Yeah, not happening” you tell Sehun, already halfway out of the car, rucksack slipping from your shoulder.

He raises a brow at you.” I am not your personal driver Y/N. I had to leave my girlfriend to drive you back.”

You scoff as you roll your eyes at him.” I’ve told you to call me for an emergency. There was no picking up included.”

He mimics your words mockingly before pressing the gas pedal leaving you behind him. Unlocking your apartment door, you’re greeted with your dog sleeping in the hallway not giving you a second glance as you pass over him. Haku’s snores echo through the empty apartment warming your heart. The Shiba became your companion two years ago when you were going through a rough patch. It took some time for you to get used to each other but now you couldn’t image not having his snot buried into your business.

Turning on the lights you sit at the kitchen table pulling your leg up to rest your head on the knee. Opening your laptop, you see a few notifications popping up on the sideline about your recent orders. Just when you were about to close the notification center you see one mail standing out. The name Jung Hoseok makes you jolt in your seat.

Dear writer aka meraki,

I hope this e-mail find you well. My name is Jung Hoseok, I’m the CEO of ZER Publishing company. I’ve taken interest in your poetry and would like to have a meeting to discuss a possible collaboration between us.

Kind regards,

Jung Hoseok

The scream that came from you couldn’t possibly be human. Closing the laptop as if it will burn you, you throw it on the sofa choosing to avoid it until tomorrow.

You didn’t know how he found you giving that any personal information on the site was strictly private. Pacing back and forward you facetimed Sehun. He picks up after three very long rings making your heart beat erratically against your chest.

“I swear to God if this is another one of your emergency calls.” Sehun stands there in nothing but a towel hugging his waist. He moves to the other side of the bathroom, bare feet pacing against the marble floor.

“I got an e-mail.”

He curses, his voice muffled from the towel pressed against his face. ” You called me to tell me about a mail?”

“Not any mail, Sehun. I was contacted by Jung Hoseok.” You whisper still walking back and forward, Haku following every step of yours. Sehun tries not to pay close attention to you, getting slowly dizzy from all the commotion.

“And something tells me I should know who that is?”

You halt taking a moment to stop yourself from starting a conversation about common knowledge again, it was a sour subject. “He messaged through the mail used for Meraki.”

This time Sehun is quite for a few seconds taking in your words. You don’t see him, but you can hear deodorant spray and shuffle of clothes. “How? Isn’t that private?”

“Yes.”

And suddenly the anxious feeling was back. The poems you wrote there were strictly private, the mention of your love life and your hardships with your family were never meant to be linked back to you. You’ve checked the websites policy not wanting anyone to associate you with the account. If that were to happen you can immediately start packing your things to move to another continent.

“I am sure he didn’t hack it; nobody is that desperate. Maybe he contacted the website owner?” Sehun takes his phone, hair freshly washed strands falling over his face. He moves from the bathroom to the kitchen placing you carefully , so you could see the whole room.

You think for a second, there was a possibility. “Isn’t that a violation of my privacy?”

“I can try to read out the rights and policy. Come up with a text signed as your lawyer but Y/N” Sehun’s voice is soft, something he did to calm you down. He stood in the middle of the kitchen, eyes having an internal battle, the look you’ve seen on him in rare moments.

“Yes?”

“I am sure if you refuse, he won’t bother you. I am also sure you don’t have much to lose if you agree.”

                                                         ____

Hoseok was on his fifth coffee by noon, deprived of any sleep last night.  He was starved for a good literature piece that would leave him in myriad emotions. Sadly, he came up with an empty line. He spent his days cocooned in the corner of Suho’s café reading page by page poetry that awoke no emotion except irritation. He was on the brink of losing his mind.

Suho slides into the booth, careful not to startle Hoseok.” Have you found anything?”

Hoseok ruffles his hair before resting his head in his hands. He was desperate enough to visit fanfiction sites in hopes of stumbling upon work that had  the spark.

“Maybe you should take a break? Visit those open mic nights where people recite their poems?”

Hoseok shakes his head having already used that option last week. “I’ve been to three mic nights and not one was interesting. I am on a verge leaving everything behind to become a stripper. Yoongi did say I have an amazing body."

Sehun by now used to his friend’s dramatic antics shrugs his shoulder.” You should really take a break. You’ve been searching for a month now.”

Hoseok wished he could take a break, but the existence of his firm lay in his hands. That enough gave him tremendous worry pushing him way above his limits.

“I know but if I don’t find a good piece in a month, I can close the firm. Do you know what that means? Hundreds of people losing their job.” Hoseok wasn’t the one to crumble under pressure but now he felt like crying. Suho offered him a smile he’s seen before, the pity smile. Patting his shoulder he gets up at the sound of doors opening ,customers swarming in.

At the end of the day Hoseok thinks everything has turned against him. His laptop dies in the middle of reading, and he discovers he forgot his charger at home. In all the despair and anger he accidentally knocks over the mug spilling coffee over important documents and his newly bought jeans. The stain will probably leave a small burn that he wasn’t ready to face today. He’ll take care of it tomorrow.

On the side Suho observes his restless friend. He felt bad for not being able to help him more, but he already used all his resources and sent them anonymously to his mail only for Hoseok to turn it down.

Sehun walks into the café with his gym in one hand and candy in the other, drops of sweat forming on his forehead. He was waiting for a call from Y/N, prepared to jump into his car at any second. He greets Suho, his sight landing on an exhausted Hoseok bumping his head repeatedly against the table lightly. He hoped to never reach this point of insanity. 

“What’s his problem?”

Suho follows Sehun’s line of sight. Hoseok sits in the booth, forehead rested against the table. Both his mind and body were tired, and the clock was ticking. “He needs to find a good poetry piece to publish otherwise he’s toast.”

In that moment Sehun weights his options. He knew how self-conscious you were about your work thinking it lacked emotion and quality and this seemed like a good opportunity to prove you otherwise. On the other hand, there was the issue with people closely linked with your poems. He takes his time picking between different sugars, steering the coffee slow enough to buy him at least one more minute.

Pushing the bills to Suho he takes a sip. “There is a website called Nora, it had lots of good poetry. I've read some.”

Suho nods following Sehun out of the café promising to deliver the message to Hoseok. Once locked up he slides back into the booth watching Hoseok pack his belongings ready to call it a day. “This costumer told me about Nora site. You should give a shot.”

“Nora?” Hoseok mocks, he heard of all the websites used for writing but Nora didn’t ring a bell.

“I think it’s new. I’ve never heard of it but he seemed sure of his words. The worst that can happen is he lied and knowing Sehun that’s unlikely.”

Hoseok nods eager to go back home to his cat Nobus and prepare himself a warm bath to release the tension built up in his muscles. Waving goodbye to Sehun, he exits the shop from the back door and turns on the engine of his car driving away to the beat of classical music easing him.

Entering his small apartment located in the centre of Seoul, he throws his shoes to the side not bothering for order tonight. Slouching himself on the couch he pets Nobus, the cat bumping his head against his arm purring softly. With eyelids half closed he opens the website on his phone, picking poetry as his preferred category.

Selecting a random writer he opens the first poem, eyes scanning the text.

 I love you             like the habit I picked up in college                  of sleeping through lectures                  or saying I’m sorry                  when I get stopped for speeding             because I drink a glass of water                  in the morning                  and chain-smoke cigarettes                  all through the day             because I take my coffee Black                  and my milk with chocolate             because you keep my feet warm                  though my life a mess I love you             because deep down I know                  you'll never be mine again   (author of the poem: Nikki Giovanni, I added three last sentences)*

With every word that Hoseok took in he felt himself back in university, all drunk on the idea of loving the girl that sat two seats in front of him during microeconomics. He relives the ecstasy of having love running through his veins, he feels the desire under his fingertips for just one touch, he crumbles at the pain of finding her kissing his best friend. Hoseok feels like his heart had been ripped apart with just few simple letters placed in a neat poem.

He sees the words meraki scribbled in a messy handwriting under the poem and he feels as if his prayers have been answered.

[peterspideyy]

what for? | part two

part one

summary- you call your boyfriend, peter. but, it isn’t a happy one. and he’ll remember it for the rest of his life.

warnings- angst, swearing

————

it’s been a month, three days, five hours and two minutes since you left.

peter still remembers that phone call vividly. it’s like, it’s been surgically planted into his mind for all eternity. everything reminds him off that call. and he despises it.

there’s been a funeral.

it was nice. peaceful.

peter knows you would of hated it though- everyone was too upset and dressed in all black. he’s knows you would of wanted people smiling or wearing colourful clothes. but, you weren’t there to tell him that’s what you wanted. peter was the only one not crying at your funeral. your whole family, even the avengers were sobbing.

except him.

he didn’t have any tears left.

he was empty.

“what for, love?”

the sound on the other end went silent, as peter waited for you to answer his question.

“darling? what’s wrong? you can tell me anything you know.” he ushered, feeling a slight panic rise in his body at how quiet it was on the phone.

it was too quiet.

“y/n?” another voice was heard suddenly, and he immediately recognised it as tony’s.

“mr stark?” peter shouted, in hopes tony could hear him. luckily, he did.

“pete?”

“yeah it’s me, where’s y/n?” peter questioned, genuine worry in his voice.

“i-“ tony couldn’t speak. what could he say? he was heartbroken, at the sight of you- dead.

“tony.” peter warned, making the man start to cry over your body.

“tony! where the hell is y/n?” he was shouting now, and tony could imagine him pacing around, hands pulling at his hair.

“peter...i’m so sorry.” tony mumbled, voice croaking with silent sobs.

“can you just tell me what’s going on?!” he screamed, as his hands started to shake.

“she’s gone.”

may has tried to get him to eat. he doesn’t want to. he doesn’t know the last time he ate alone. it sounds stupid- to not wanting to eat on your own. but, he always ate with you. and now you weren’t here anymore.

he’s not going to school, either. his teachers keep on sending him work, but he just see’s you. smiling and laughing. it doesn’t help that you were in all of his lessons. and how he remembers on friday afternoons, when you were both drained from the week you just had, how you would sit in the back of the class, hands intertwined, as you both whispered sweet nothings into each other’s ears. he loved those days.

but, you weren’t here to have those days again.

if he knew you were dying on that phone call, he would of said how much he loved you. how much he appreciated you. but, while you were trying to stay alive, he was too busy trying to set up a stupid date night.

he just wishes you told him.

he wishes for a lot of things. but, not everyone can get what they want.

a knock on the door inturrupted peter’s thoughts, as he looked up to see may entering with a sympathetic smile on her face. “there’s someone here to see you.”

he doesn’t know why, but a little bit of hope fluttered in peter’s stomach. he’s heard about how people fake their death on missions, and he prays that’s what happened with you. but, when tony stark walked in, his face dropped.

he was stupid to even think that you were alive.

“hey, kid.”

“i’m so sorry, kid, she’s gone.” tony whispered, tears falling down his cheek at the sound of peter’s broken cries on the phone.

“hi.”

tony looked around his room, taking in how much of a mess it was. he also noticed, how all of y/n’s belongings were spaced out on his bed. and then, tony took in peter. he had deep purple bags under his eyes. tears stained his cheek, as his bloodshot eyes starred at a random point in the wall. anthony coughed slightly, before sitting next to peter on the bed.

“how are you?”

peter shrugged.

“listen i know it’s hard, i’ve lost a person i love too i-“

“no.” peter cut off.

“yes, you loved...” peter stopped. he hasn’t said y/n’s name since that phone call. “her but it wasn’t in the same why like i did. so please, don’t say that you get me, because you don’t.”

tony had expected peter to snap back at him, for whatever he was going to say. so he wasn’t shocked.

“i am truely sorry, peter. i now how much you cared for her.”

peter looked down at his hands. “yeah.”

a minute of silence passed, before tony remembered why he came. “listen, i was going through old files this week, and i found this.”

he extended out a small blue usb, causing peter to take it out of his grasp.

“i watched the first couple of seconds, just to check what it actually was, but i think you would want to watch it.”

“what is it?”

“it’s from y/n.”

peter’s eyes went wide, tears forming in his eyes, as he turned to face tony. “what?”

tony titled his head to the side, smiling slightly, before patting his shoulder. “i’ll leave you alone, kid. i’m always here for you.”

“thank you, mr stark.” peter smiled back, but it never reached his eyes as tony nodded his head before leaving his room, and closing the door behind him.

as soon as the door clicked closed, peter shot up to his laptop, putting the usb into the side of the device. a folder popped up on his screen called ‘peter parker.’

he breathed out, double clicking on the blue folder before it opened to reveal one video. clicking on the video, an image of you popped up, making his breath hitch. it was just you, starring into the camera in mid talk, but it made peter’s heart melt.

he wiped away some tears that were falling, before clicking play.

“hi- oh shit-“ the camera fell of your desk, as you yelled making peter chuckle. you were always so clumsy. after picking up the camera, changing the angle slightly, you dropped your hands to your side, smiling widely.

“hi! sorry about that.” you laughed, looking down which is what you did when you were nervous. peter smiled softly, at your little gesture.

“so, i don’t know why i’m doing this. but, if your watching this peter, then i’ve passed. i hope your okay. i’m sorry that i left you this early. i don’t know, joining the avengers has put a higher risk of me getting more hurt. i know you have had your disagreements on me joining.”

peter remembers that argument. he was so worried about you. he wouldn’t want you to get hurt. or worse.

“but, i’m glad we’ve gone past that. but, just incase of an untimely death, i’ve made this little video in private. even though, darling, your asleep next door, so hopefully i haven’t woke you up by my screaming before.”

you giggled on the screen.

so did peter in his empty room.

“erm...when i first met you, on that cold, december day in high school, i knew you were my soulmate. even though, you were very nervous and kept on stuttering over every single word, i knew you would be the love of my life. the one thing i didn’t expect you to be, was to be my bestfriend. and i appreciate you so much for that.”

you breathed out, tears forming in your eyes as you looked deeply into the camera, making peter cover his hand over his mouth to stifle his sobs.

“i- you helped me with everything. i never had a good relationship with anyone. until you. this sounds so cliche, but you made me the person i am today. and no words could describe how grateful i am for that.”

you breathed in, catching your breath before speaking again.

“if i do pass, i want you to move on, alright? i don’t want to see you crying everyday. you deserve to experience love, pete. i hope i do get to spend the rest of my life with you, but stuff happens. you deserve to find someone who loves you as much as i do.”

tears were falling down both of your cheeks now, and peter had to stop himself from bringing his hand up to the screen and wipe them away softly.

but, he had to remind himself that it wasn’t real.

you weren’t in-front of him.

“sorry. i shouldn’t be crying,” you laughed, wiping away your tears, making peter pout, “i just...i’m so overwhelmed with how much i love you. your probably going to be really confused when you wake up to see my sobbing.”

you laughed, before stopping at another voice in the background.

it was his.

“y/n?”

peter remembers waking up on that day, panic filling him at the empty sheets next to him.

if only he knew what you were doing.

“oh shit, you’re awake.” you whispered chuckling slightly, as you leaned in to switch the camera off before freezing.

“thank you, peter benjamin parker. for everything.”

with one last smile, the video ended.

and peter’s sobs started.

————

a/n- sorry about how short this is, but thank you for reading :)

————

peter parker taglist-

@24kbucky @parkersbliss @liberty-barnes @icyhollands @dreamofaprilsblog @deathofmissjackson @averyfosterthoughts @jannine00742 @beverlyparkerr @anapocalypseinmymind @itstaskeen

[7wanderingpaws]

Captain Bucheon 04

Warnings: language, suggestive

Word count: 4.6K

story masterlist masterlist

tags: @wooya1224 @to-all-the-stories-i-love @jennxx3 @realllllrica (let me know if you want to be un/tagged)​

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<-- Previous - Next -->

Fourth: Painful memories

Baekhyun seemed like a distant dream when you awoke the next day. Everything that happened, starting with your obliviousness to his presence at the field all the way to the moment you slapped him and poured your emotions out; they all felt like they never happened. 

It was your throat, raw and sore from screaming, that indicated last night happened. You woke up tired, feeling your nose clogged and head heavy. As if constantly haunting you, behind closed eyes you saw his; they were looking at you, troubled and wavering. Baekhyun was at your mercy last night. And you were merciless.

One of the painful memories was exceptionally difficult to erase from your mind. Baekhyun's words, that he uttered one year ago in his office, were haunting you and making you believe that things could have been different if you were not lying to him.

I would have waited for you.

Those words were running around in front of your eyes, each word snaking itself in confusing circles creating slight dizziness. Would he have really waited, though?

Groaning, you turned to your other side spotting Yuyeon’s sleeping figure. She wasn’t in the room when you arrived last night, enabling you to cry to your heart's content, which you did. You cried yourself to sleep and now, here was the result. Swollen eyes, headache and a sore throat.

Your phone that was safely tucked under your pillow gave a short vibration, indicating a message. You were waiting for it; it was the last working day after all. Weekend was coming up and you couldn’t wait to get the necessary free time to do your school work and recover from shouting at Byun Baekhyun.

You checked the text message and you planned your day ahead accordingly.

Unknown number

Parcel delivery for the weekend by Sunday 23:30. Bucheon Christian University main gate’s security house.

You frowned, mulling over the destination. Until now, it was always an apartment building and, with the new found information that the messages could have possible secondary destinations encoded, you grew a little uneasy. If issues occurred, would there be another option to deliver the parcel to?

><

There was a hustle going on in Baekhyun’s department that day. Several robberies, crimes and attacks and every officer was preoccupied with suffering victims begging for help and justice.

He also had a couple of cases to deal with, yet he kept zoning out. He barely got a wink of sleep and now he needed to be at his best when he would have much rather stayed home and let himself think through stuff. Not that he didn’t have a whole year to think.

“Knock knock, coffee delivery!” 

Park Chanyeol, the number one detective and also Baekhyun’s close friend, walked in, a cup of steaming coffee in his hand. “What’s up Captain?”

“Thanks,” murmured Baekhyun when Chanyeol handed him the mug. “Any news on the case?” he asked, ignoring his friend’s question completely.

Chanyeol crashed on the chair opposite him with a sigh. “Nope,” he replied. “No solid updates. No leads. The attack was sudden and we can’t seem to find a trace of the target.”

Baekhyun sighed. “Two young women have been attacked so far. They were in their mid-twenties.”

“Actually, both of them were in their final year of university,” added Chanyeol with a serious tone.

“That could be a solid lead,” murmured Baekhyun even though his mind was wandering off again. He was quick to zone out on his friend who continued describing the crime scenes, thinking out loud but Baekhyun was already on a completely different page.

You were just seventeen… and he was so heartless. He could vividly remember the actual happenings in his office. He was sitting just where he was seated now, behind his big table full of paperwork and computer while you were becoming smaller and smaller under his smoldering gaze. 

Baekhyun was extremely mad that day. He couldn’t remember the last time he was that mad. Not even the forever annoying Siamsa could annoy him to those bits and he was slowly realizing that it must have been because he liked you much more than he had let himself believe. You betraying his trust, seeing him as a fool and doing stupid stuff behind his back were the exact things he despised in humans. Yet, you did all of them. And one year later, here he was, with you on his mind.

He cringed inwardly when he remembered the harsh words he told you.

You were stupid enough to get caught.

You can be goddamn sure I wouldn’t talk to a KID.

It was a grave mistake to talk to you.

He sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose with his fingers, not even catching Chanyeol abruptly stopping his talk. Baekhyun was way too brutal with you. He groaned out loud when he remembered another horrible thing he said. I’m breaking up with you if it wasn’t obvious enough. Plus, I’m arresting you…

“Are you okay? You really seem out of it today.” Chanyeol seemed concerned and even a little perplexed as Baekhyun rarely showed this kind of behavior in front him, let alone showing it at his workplace. In the office, Baekhyun was the one to be scared of, to be respected and bowed to. This Baekhyun seemed like if Chanyeol pushed him with his finger, he'd crumble.

“I'm fine,” muttered back the captain with a throaty voice.

Chanyeol pursed his lips, unsure how to ask what had been on his mind since he entered the office. Instead of wanting to deal with a serious talk, a cheeky glint lit up in his eyes. “Perhaps you met her again?”

“Her?” Baekhyun frowned with a down-ward tilt on his lips.

Chanyeol wiggled his eyebrows as he stretched on the chair. “You know who!” he took a breath and with his deep voice, started to sing:

She looked incredible Just turned 17 I guess my friends are right She's out of my league So what am I to do? She's too good to be true

Baekhyun couldn't help himself when he heard the lyrics his friend correlated with you. They couldn't have been more accurate and despite him being in a bad mood, the idea made him laugh under his nose as he looked on the floor. “Actually, I did. And I got slapped,” he revealed somehow proudly as he let himself sit on his chair, enjoying the astonished look on Chanyeol's face.

“No way!” he straightened up in his seat, leaning forward so he could get a better look at his friend. “She slapped you? Damn, this girl is feisty. She keeps beating up our captain!” he laughed out loud, consumed by the images of you, the young woman in her late teenage years, slapping someone of Baekhyun's calibre.

“Yeah, well, she's always been fearless.” he shrugged, frowning out of a sudden. “I screwed that girl up pretty badly, Chan, but that's no news.”

Chanyeol went quiet for a minute, fully aware of Baekhyun's emotions and the way the past events had been eating him up. “How is she doing these days?”

Baekhyun shrugged. “I guess well? She's lost some weight, but,” he sighed and proceeded to talk about the event that he witnessed with the boys sexually harassing you.

“The kids these days can't keep it in their pants,” cackled Chanyeol in disbelief but Baekhyun was far from entertained. His jaw was locked, the skin pulsing with tension at the mere idea of last night.

“If they ever as much as think about her I swear to god-”

“Whoa, hold on, Baek. You know you can't just get involved.”

“What do you mean I can't just get involved? They were harassing her, and I'm a cop.”

“I think your rage is more fueled because it's about Nari. As much as you seek justice, you shouldn't let your emotions take the better out of you. Besides, people might get suspicious-”

“Chanyeol, what the fuck?” snapped Baekhyun angrily. “If she were any woman I'd do the same.”

“You would not punch in order to protect just any woman.”

“Yes, I would-”

“No, you would do the smart talk and intimidate them with your power and  authority. But you punched the kid, Baek.”

Baekhyun sighed in agitation, his hand coming yet again up to his face, tiredly rubbing at the skin. “So what should I have done? I myself am confused about my emotions but I know I care about her a lot.”

“Of course you care about her. You drank straight up one month after she found out about your fake boyfriend identity and you broke up.”

Baekhyun rolled his eyes, hating the way Chanyeol was so blunt with his words. “Either way, she still hates me.”

“Would you fight for her if she ever gave you a chance?” asked Chanyeol quietly, his fingers nipping at his lower lip in thought.

Baekhyun opened his mouth, ready to answer way too quickly before he stopped himself. He was frozen when he realized the answer that so naturally came to him. Would he fight for you if you ever decided to build the bridges again? He definitely would have one year ago when he came to your high school to see you.

“You're hesitating,” stated Chanyeol and pursed his lips. “I think you're scared, too, captain.”

Baekhyun scoffed but Chanyeol cut him off: “You would hate losing her again. And she is a fragile kid, scarred by everything that happened to her. She could be even more vulnerable with you. Remember that.”

><

“Where are you going?” asked Yuyeon, confused, when you were putting on your black jeans and a black hoodie. The helmet for the scooter was already tucked under your arm, ready to leave for the Saturday night. Time was ticking in your brain and you grew quite anxious about possible bad outcomes of this delivery if you wouldn't leave right away.

“Work,” you shrugged, “will get this done and then I will be free,” you smiled, a little strained but Yuyeon only gave you a suspicious side glance.

“You never work on the weekends! This employer is already playing with you and telling you to work even when it's not your official hours,” she frowned deeply, looking like a sulking child.

You sighed and suppressed the need to roll your eyes. “Okay, mum, I'll be back in time, no worries.”

“You better be! I won't fuss about wanting to go to a club when you're oh so busy.”

“I promise we can go next Friday!” you shouted, opening the door to put on your shoes.

She grumbled in response and you laughed to yourself, slamming the doors behind you when you slid your feet into your boots. Making sure they were tied well, you rushed out into the chilly evening, making your way to the mini-scooter Chul borrowed you so you could get the job done easier.

Bucheon Christian University was a little further away from your campus, so you made sure you followed the map carefully once you got the box from the apartment you usually got it from. The apartment itself was a high-rise, family friendly building and, just like the previous times, this box was also very light in your arms despite it being a little bigger. You had a spare rope under the seat of the scooter, so you tied it securely so it wouldn't fall when you had it between your feet.

As you were reaching the destination, you realized your palms were becoming more sweaty. Your heartbeat, usually quiet, was now gently beating in your ears, letting you know the stress levels were rising.

“You arrived at your destination,” said the GPS when you passed a big entrance that was leading into a small campus with white buildings that seemed too out of the place. Wanting to get the job done quickly, you searched with eager eyes for a little building that would be the security office, getting off the scooter and untying the delivery.

Seeing a box-like metal security office for the car park barrier you swallowed harshly, walking up to it. There were no signs of life inside, the lights out and the barriers probably working on auto mode. For other people, it must have looked ridiculous - you walking with a bigger box towards the security office but you could only hope no one would see your face which was the reason why you were reluctant to take the helmet off.

You were walking up to what you deemed the correct destination, but you couldn't help the uneasy feeling. There is no need, you insisted in your mind, because this was the correct destination. You would put the box down in front of the doors and just leave. Yes. That was correct.

Despite your weak reassurances, you kept looking around making sure you weren’t missing another spot. Your heartbeat was still gently pumping in your ears, reminding you that this was a little more stressful than the previous outings.

As you reached the doors to the security office, you put the box down more to the side as the doors were directly in front of the road for the cars. Feeling the relief of accomplishing another day of delivery, you turned around and started walking back towards the scooter, the tension slowly but surely easing up. You looked back several times to make sure the box was still there and with that you sat on the scooter and rode away, excited that you didn’t miss out on the night just yet.

If Yuyeon would be up for fun, you could finally go and be reckless!

><

Baekhyun was about to turn off the lights and call it a night at 9pm when a loud set of knocks disturbed his peace. Thinking it was his friends who wanted to give him a surprise visit, he swiftly opened the door only to be surprised when he spotted a ball of pink.

“The hell are you doing here?” he snapped, not moving to let the uninvited guest in.

Siamsa, or, to Baekhyun, Sooah, rolled her eyes as she stepped closer. “Well, hi to you, handsome. I’ll tell you if you let me in.”

“Well, I don’t want to know,” he replied in an even voice. “So that makes it easier. Bye-“

“Wait!” she exclaimed quickly and made a step in, wanting to prevent him from slamming the door shut in her face. “It’s about your ex.”

He didn’t want to admit it; but his heart jumped at the mention of you. Sooah never cared enough about Baekhyun’s other exes before her. Unfortunately for you, you came after her and Siamsa, the kpop sensation, was not processing it well. “If you’re gonna talk bullshit, I’ll spare myself the time-“

“If you want to protect her, you should listen,” she sing-sang nonchalantly, playing with the ends of her long hair. It was dyed blond and made her seem innocent which she was far from.

“And how would you know what’s up with Nari? You’ve already done so much shit in the past! What makes you think I’ll believe you?”

Sooah shrugged, pretending to be unbothered. “Well, I care about your well-being, Baekhyun. I know you care about her. I know the break-up was brutal. You locked up her brother-“

Baekhyun was fast to grab her by her wrist and yank her inside, quickly kicking the door shut. Sooah had a satisfied smirk on her face when she took in his distressed expression. “How. Do. You. Know. That.”

“Mhmm, so hot,” she whispered with a wink, mocking him. “I always liked how manly you are, my little one-“

“Listen,” he cut her off angrily, the nickname making him shudder inwardly, “I don’t care about your fucking games. I’m way past you and all your stupid shit. But I swear to god, if you do something to Nari-“

“You seem to have luck on girls who do stupid shit,” she mimicked him as she stood closer, making sure her breath fanned his chin. “Nari seems to go from one trouble to another. One day she might as well end up like her brother,” she laughed to herself.

“How do you know about her brother?” he asked again in a low tone, trying hard to ignore the anger he felt whenever she mentioned you.

Sooah pulled a fake thinking face, tapping her slender finger with perfect nail art on her chin. “For starters, don’t underestimate my honesty, Baekhyun. I know more than you think. I really care about you, you know,” she mumbled the last sentence and dared to reach up with her hand, touching his cheek gently. “Me messing up by protecting my identity - you were too harsh with me back then, sweetie.”

Baekhyun sighed, closing his eyes for a moment before opening them and moving his face away from her touch. She was bringing up the past and he didn’t like it; he didn’t want to dive in it. Sooah was a great manipulator and he didn’t want to fall down the guilt rabbit hole when he knew he did the right thing in the past. “We are done with that talk.”

“I was never done with that talk,” she was fast to protest. “You were. I still want you.” When she moved to stand closer to him, Baekhyun quickly stood back and away from her. “Baekhyun!”

“Tell me what you know about Lee Nari and then leave!”

“I want something in return,” she rebutted quickly, even confidently, but the desperation on her face was speaking volumes. “And I’ll tell you all I know.”

He grit his jaw, hard. “I swear to god, Sooah, stop testing me-“

“It’s noona for you,” she murmured with a sharp gaze that kept flickering over his features. He always looked good, but judging from his outfit, she knew he was preparing to sleep. That hoodie would soon be taken off and those plaid pants too. Her mind swirled just at the thought of it.

“We are done with that too—“

“You can’t fight the age difference, baby,” she purred and stepped closer. She enjoyed seeing his internal conflict. Despite being a harsh captain, she knew which buttons to push for him to submit, although she didn’t like that it involved you. She hated that the only way she could talk to Baekhyun was if she mentioned your name.

Baekhyun sighed again, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Ok. Speak. Otherwise I’m throwing you out.”

Sooah burst out into laughter, quickly hiding her laminated teeth and scrunched up nose behind her hand. “You manhandling me wouldn’t be the first time, Captain,” she said in a low, sensual tone as she trailed her long fingernail over his chest. She could have sworn it was more toned than the last time she had the pleasure of touching it. “And you know how much I like it.” When she saw him closing his eyes in exasperation, she trailed the finger upwards to his prominent collarbones before she took the side of his neck in her palm, running her thumb over the pulse point. “God, I miss you so much. Like, so, so much, my sweetie.” She knew she was testing the limits. She also knew an angry Baekhyun was anything but good news. She refused to spare him, though. “Your girlfriend is a bad girl. She’ll easily become a criminal if she continues doing the bad stuff.”

Baekhyun snapped his eyes open. “Is she up to something these days?” he asked almost breathily.

Her fingers traveled to the nape of his neck and she buried them in the hair, lightly scratching at the skin. Baekhyun was fighting the shuddering feeling, hoping his body wouldn’t betray him.

“Oh, yes. When isn’t she up to something,” she mumbled thoughtfully, her hawk eyes taking note of Baekhyun’s slight blush. He was getting affected with her ministrations and she stepped closer to him. He didn’t move away.

“What is it?” he hummed when her other hand massages his chest in small circles. “What is it that she is doing?”

Sooah had a mischievous glint in her eyes as she bit her bottom lip in triumph. “Give me a kiss and I’ll tell you-“

“No games!” snapped Baekhyun angrily, his eyes stormy as he glared at her.

“Then you won’t find out!”

“Sooah!”

“Just a magic word and a little kiss is all I want, sweetie,” she whispered, enjoying his intent stare on her. “I promise that’s all I will want and you get to access all you need to know.”

“No,” he shook his head resolutely. “I don’t care.”

“You care so fucking much about her,” it was her turn to spit now, gradually getting infuriated with his reluctance to submit to her. “Or do you want me to, perhaps…” she trailed off, puckering her lips, feigning thinking, “tell everyone in her school you dated her as an underaged kid?”

That was it for Baekhyun. Something snapped within him and he made a threatening step towards his ex, who didn’t even budge at his abruptness. “I dare you to say a single word that would harm her reputation, Sooah. I dare you to. She already went through so much shit because of me and her family.”

Sooah was smirking as she watched the captain's troubled, but hard face. It hurt her, but she wasn’t the most emotionally literate person; she was selfish and sometimes enjoyed suffering of others. That was how a very bad product of the entertainment industry looked like. Whether she would admit it was questionable. Sooah would never give Baekhyun up when her emotions for him were so deep, when the man was desirable so much. It was always a given that he was a one of a kind man and she always wanted everything that was one of a kind.

“What a good man you are, Byun Baekhyun,” she hummed, her eyes focused on his lips. “Caring about a child so much. A child who lied to you from the very first start.”

“Whatever the hell you are trying to do here, leave it,” gritted Baekhyun eventually. “And tell me what she is up to.”

“I already told you what’s the price!” she whined, making Baekhyun frown. “A kiss. On the lips.” With her finger, she tapped her lower lip, excitement cursing through her when she saw Baekhyun eyeing her mouth. “And then the secrets are all yours.”

It was tempting; not the kiss, but the reward. Baekhyun’s mind was racing with possibilities, with outcomes. Then he became worried. He knew how twisted Sooah could be, and were she to talk in front of your school about your relationship, you’d most probably never forgive him for letting it happen and he himself would be in huge trouble. Maybe that thought was even stronger than his need to know whether you were in trouble or not.

To make Baekhyun’s pondering a little easier, Sooah boldly pressed her palm against his toned stomach, the muscles instantly flexing upon her intrusive touch. Sooah knew Baekhyun was a very sensitive man; a single tingle on his neck could turn him on, the lightest of scratches could make him stand up proud. She knew he had to be affected by her minimal ministrations. She knew him perfectly. Touching up the ridges around the muscles, she let her hand slide lower to his abdomen before reaching to cup his—

Baekhyun slapped her hand away with a growl and pressed her against the door. “One fucking kiss and you’ll spill everything,” he breathed. She couldn’t even react before he pressed his lips harshly against hers, the texture of her lip gloss attaching to his lips. Sooah groaned, arms instantly hugging his neck. Her long finger nails scratched his nape and Baekhyun’s will was becoming weaker. 

The familiar scent of her strong, sweet perfume wafted over his senses, reminding him that this was not the woman he cared about anymore. Her eager tongue pushed his lips apart and was fast to battle with his own. The way she kissed him was nothing but desperate, needy, a call for attention. He hated it. The last time he kissed a woman— a girl was a year ago and her lips were the sweetest thing he’d ever tasted. Despite her being brave with him, her kisses were shy, careful, kitten-like and Baekhyun accidentally groaned at the thought of that. 

He pressed his lips harsher against this woman’s while imaging an innocent girl behind his eyelids. His hands were pressed against the door but he wanted to touch so bad. He only got to touch her once and not the way he would have liked, and now he had to fight the urge to let his hands slide around the curves, to outline her behind while her chest would be pressed against his.

He was quickly reminded that the body pressing against him was indeed not Lee Nari. Sooah had a slim physique with a flat chest and a big space between her thighs. He loved it once, but not anymore.

Before Sooah could cup his private part again he broke the kiss, desperately needing some air and needing to snap out of his deep fantasy. Blinking several times, he got to see the face that went through so many changes with plastic surgery and when she smiled at him with swollen lips, he realized how unreal this woman was. Unreal and unfaithful.

“What is Lee Nari doing ?” he breathed, the question coming out in a low murmur, his lips visibly swollen.

The spark that was in Sooah’s eyes left, quickly interchanged with hate and betrayal. “Is this what you ask me right after you kissed me?” she shrieked, causing Baekhyun to flinch. “You just had your tongue in my mouth and you dare to say a little girl’s name afterwards?”

Sooah wasn't wrong about you being a little girl. She was older by fourteen years after all; she saw you as a complete kid. Which made Sooah feel even more devastated and enraged; Baekhyun dated someone so incredibly young, half of her age. It made her feel like she couldn't compare.

“I’m not going to ask you any more. You got what you wanted. Get out of my flat if you don’t do anything useful,” replied Baekhuyn with a hard glare.

“She is delivering drugs,” snapped Sooah and Baekhyun was shocked to find tears in her eyes as she spoke. “That’s who she is now, Baekhyun. She is delivering illegal stuff on a scooter and she doesn’t even have a driving license.”

It felt like someone poured a scorching hot water over him. You and drugs? And you didn’t have a driving license while driving a vehicle? So many thoughts raced through his mind, so many questions left unanswered. What the hell were you up to? “And you know this how?”

Sooah shrugged. “None of your damn business.”

“It is if it involves Nari.”

Sooah scoffed mockingly. “Then sleep with me.”

“You need help, Sooah,” replied Baekhyun somehow compassionately after a moment of silence. Taking the singer’s arm in his, he turned her and opened the door so he could push her out to the corridor. “And immediately. You’re sick in your head. Treat your obsession and then we can still be friends maybe.”

“You’re a heartless bastard, Baekhyun,” whispered Sooah, not turning around. “You better watch out for the university festival. Your girlfriend will be my puppet.”

She started walking with purposeful steps towards the elevator, not looking back and not noticing the way Baekhyun’s face fell with dread.

But the girl had been hurt enough.

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A/N: thank you for reading! I had lots of fun with this chapter! Let me know your thoughts, there is so much happening over here >.<

Lyrics credit: McFly - That Girl

[nyctophilin]

I Was a Fool | I

sweet anon: May I request a forced marriage with Mafia!Changbin, please? Where like he's cold at first, but then they fall in love in the edn? And can there be some smut as well,,, sorry if this is too much lol.

Chapter I, Chapter II, Chapter III

Description: She has been in love with her best friend for as long as she can remember. However, life doesn’t always like to play in your favour. Forced into a marriage she didn’t want to happen she lives her days lonely and unhappy the only thing bringing her joy being the occasional hangouts with her best friend. At some point, her husband starts to get bothered by the said hangouts.

All rights reserved © nyctophilin 2020. Re-posting, copying and translating any of my works is prohibited.

Pairing: Changbin x fem!Reader, Lee Know x fem!Reader

Word count: 3.2k

Genre: Mafia!AU, Forced Marriage!AU, Angst, Fluff, eventual Smut

Warnings: heartbreak, rude Changbin, spelling/grammar mistakes

A/N: Anon, I know Minho is not part of the request but it just felt right to put it in. I felt like I can create more drama if he was there and who doesn’t love drama? I hope you don’t mind.^^ I have so many ideas for this mini series. I’m so excited for it. I hope you all like it. Feedback is very much apreciated. 

      She stretched slowly, the sun bathing her in its rays. Although it was pretty hot outside a breeze will start occasionally making the bottom of her dress fly up ever so slightly and cooling her heated body. They were close to the bank of a river, settled on a soft blanket, a few dished making it impossible for them to be as close as they wanted to be to each other.

      She stole a glance at her best friend who was propping himself on his palms while looking at the few ducks that were populating the river. She has known Minho since her sophomore year of high school. He was a transfer student from another city. At the time his dad had got a new job in her city and they had to move.

      He intimidated her at first. He was quiet when he wasn’t with people from his class that he befriended and he constantly had a resting bitch face on. They actually started talking because of a...let’s call it a cliché accident. She can still remember it so vividly.

      She was walking towards the school’s cafeteria with her friends after their French class. Oh, how much she hated French. Not only was the grammar complicated but they also had an awful teacher. He didn't know how to explain things and he was very demanding.

      “Class, today we will talk about something sophisticated and I expect all of you to already know about it because how dare you not know everything about France?” She heard one of her friends mock the teacher and she giggled lightly. 

      “You did it wrong. You have to add a French accent and more spitting to it. This man went to France once for a week and suddenly he forgot where he is from.” Her other friend rolled her eyes when she remembered the teacher’s antics.

      “Oh come on. You guys are so mean!” She finally spoke just a tiny bit of sarcasm present in her voice.

      “Oh please! You are the one that hates him the most.” Her friend challenged her with a raised eyebrow.

      “Hate is a strong word. I just don’t have the same vision as him on most things.” She felt one of them nudge her in the back with her elbow and she adopted an offended frown. “Stop, I am serious!”  She nudged her back and they started pushing each other. A particularly hard push from one of her friends had her bolting forward and knocking down the person in front of her, falling over them.

      When she lifted her head and noticed who she hit she was up in a second. The second he spent getting up from the floor she was thinking of all sorts of excuses she could say. When he turned towards her she opened her mouth ready to let all her thoughts spill but she was cut off.

      “Are you ok? Did you get hurt?” He placed his hand on her arms crouching down just a bit to inspect her face. His hands were really warm.

      She felt a faint pink dust her cheeks. “I am fine. You don’t have to worry about me. I was the one who made you fall.” She looked into his mesmerizing eyes and gulped as discreetly as she could.

      “I am okay but we can’t allow such a fragile lady like you to get hurt.” A smirk tugged at his lips and made her rosy cheeks to go into a deep red.

      “Hey! I’m not fragile. I still put you down, didn’t I?” The most pleasant laugh she ever heard left his lips and he patted her head lightly.

      “Yeah, sure you did, sweetheart. Be more careful next time!” His hands left her body and he turned on his heels joining his friends again and continuing his way to wherever he had to be.

      After that incident, they started greeting each other on the hallway and making small talk every time they would sit at neighboring tables in the cafeteria becoming good friends eventually. The time she has spent with him was never boring and she ended up having some of her best experiences because of him. However, somewhere in that period of time, she fell for him. And how could she not? He was caring and gentle and funny and always made sure that she was comfortable before dragging her into another one of his crazy adventures.

      She was also aware of his feelings for her. She didn’t know if it was love but she knew he cared for her more than a friend cares for another friend. But none of them ever confessed. Maybe they were waiting for the right moment and maybe they made a mistake by doing that because from now on there were no more right moments.

      “I will be getting married.” Her whisper got lost in the breeze but he still managed to hear her. His head shoot in her direction, watching her side profile with blown pupils. With quick moves, he pushed the food out of the way and stood in front of her. Even though he was on his knees his body was standing tall, her calves trapped between his legs.

      “What do you mean? Please tell me you are talking about that giant stuffed bear in your room.” Minho tried to bring some humour into the situation hoping that any second she will push him, make him fall on the fresh grass and start laughing. His voice was strained when he spoke, however, because these were the first words she said to him since they met twenty minutes ago.

      Y/N bit her lip while avoiding his eyes. That was the hardest thing she ever had to do. Finally looking at his face she felt something tugging at her heart when she remarked his pained expression. “No Minho, I’m not talking about Honey. He’s way too good for me. If he ever decides to marry me I’ll be the luckiest woman alive.” Minho didn't appreciate her joke. If it was true then it was no joking matter.

      “Y/N, please!” She bit the inside of her cheek at his slightly annoyed tone. She knows she shouldn’t joke about this but it’s easier than telling him the truth. She wished there was a better, less painful way than that.

      “I’m getting married, Minho. In a month.” Y/N felt tears stinging at her eyes but she refused to let them fall.

      “With who? Did you have a boyfriend all this time?” The thought of her with someone else left a bittersweet taste in his mouth.

      “I don’t know who.” She said under her breath focusing on the abandoned food on the blanket.

      “What do you mean you don’t know who?” She moved her face even further away from him wanting to avoid the conversation as well as she could. His unusually cold hand cupped her face making her watch him in the eyes and bringing her closer to him but still keeping a decent distance between their faces. “What do you mean you don’t know who, Y/N?”

      She felt so intimidated by his demeanour. She knew she owed him an explanation. Actually, no. She didn’t. They were just friends and she can do whatever she wants. But she needed to give it to him for her own sanity. “It’s an arranged marriage. My parents made this deal a long time ago with a rival in business. If I am not in any relationship when he prepares to step down from his position and hand the legacy to his son, I have to marry him. I don’t know why there is such rivalry between flower shops but if that helps my parents from losing the family business I have to do it.” 

      “Y/N, this is crazy. We have to do something. You can’t just marry a complete stranger.” His hands descended from her face to her shoulders, shaking her slowly hoping that maybe they both can wake up from this nightmare if he does.

      Tears pricked in her eyes as she took a deep breath. “If I was in a relationship I wouldn’t have to do it, but I am not. Everything is already decided on and I can’t do anything more about it.”

      Minho collapsed on her legs but didn’t fully let his weight on them. He brought her face close to his only a few centimetres apart. “Yes, we can. Listen Y/N, I…” She placed her hands over his, making him stop in the middle of his sentence.

      “Please, don’t do this to me. Not now. Please!” Tears started pouring down her cheeks as her vision of him became unclear.

      “But…”

      “Please!” She let her head fall into his chest and started crying uncontrollably. He felt his heart break at the sight of her crying and he never thought that his love could hurt her like that. He knew what he was about to do wasn’t right. It wasn’t fair for her. He understood that she can’t do anything anymore but he was selfish. He was too selfish when it came to her.

      “I love you!” 

      Her whimpers became even louder and she wrapped her hands around his torso burying her head more into his chest. He embraced her as well, a hand rubbing up and down her back in a calming way. He was silently crying trying not to disturb her, hoping that maybe, just maybe he is actually dreaming.

      From afar they may have looked like two insane people. Crying on a picnic on such a nice day. But it wasn’t a nice day for them. On that day their hearts have been broken by one another even though they still loved each other.

      Y/N was fidgeting on the wooden chair looking around frantically. Her father placed his rough hand on her delicate one in an attempt to calm her down. She looked him in the eyes and he gave her a smile trying to hide his sorrow from her. She smiled back and finally stopped her moving, realising that nothing is going to change even if she wastes her energy like that.

      Tomorrow was her wedding day and a few days prior they received a phone call from the father of the groom saying that they should meet before the wedding. Originally they weren’t supposed to meet because her soon to be in-laws were busy with the whole stepping down thing. She didn’t know why but she felt relieved that she gets to meet her husband before the ceremony. Even though her father assured her that he is a “young handsome man just right for my baby girl” she needed to see it with her eyes. No one wanted any weird reactions from her in the middle of the ceremony.

      She will finally get married. Is something she has wanted to do since she was young. Being with the one you love forever and absolutely nothing being able to separate you. She always dreamed of completing this one desire of hers. Dressing up in the most beautiful dress she has ever seen and having her hair done beautifully. It was going to be a beach wedding sometime in spring. Everything was going to be perfect and in the end, her loved ones were going to witness the love of her life and her vowing eternal love for one another.

      But she wasn’t getting her beach wedding and she wasn’t marrying the love of her life. She realised some time ago that life can be cruel. You get everything you want and then, all of a sudden it stops. You are left broken and have to live an unfulfilling life just because you can’t die yet.

      She was woken from her slumber by the screeching of her father’s chair. When she looked forward she was met with two masculine forms looking down at her. She hurriedly got up and bowed deeply as an apology for not noticing them sooner.

      “There’s no need for something like that. I can imagine how nervous you must be.” His voice was deep, shaking her from inside out. It was the older male that spoke. His shoulders were really broad and he was fairly tall, his imposing presence giving her a claustrophobic feeling. He had a fake smile plastered on his face and he extended his hands which she shook hurriedly. “I’m Mr Seo but you can start calling me father.” He laughed and she forced a laugh as well, uneasiness settling inside her.

      She looked at the other man from the corner of her eye. He was very well built, his black T-shirt stretching over the muscle of his arms. “I’m Y/N.” She extended her arm and let a smile paint her lips in an attempt to be nice.

      The man rolled his eyes and slapped his hand over her’s, shaking it violently before letting go. “I’m Changbin.” Immediately after, he sat down disinterested in that whole meeting.

      A bored expression was adorning his face. All he could think about was the moment he could go home. His eyes travelled down her body trying to take her figure in. He had seen so much better. She wasn’t crazy beautiful and even though her body was presenting some appetizing curves her shy and reserved demeanour was a big turn off for him. He couldn’t understand why he had to marry her. Did they really have to form a pact with the District 9 Mafia? They were clearly stronger than them so why not just eliminate them.

      He took another look at her. The way she sat, that forced smile, the fear in her eyes. Everything about her annoyed him. Maybe he was influenced by the fact that he had to marry her against his will but she was sparking something inside him. Filling him with rage until he had to stop to breathe in order to calm down.

      “Do you go to college Y/N?” Mr Seo’s question surprised her.

      “I did. I majored in Chemistry. I wanted to become a perfumer.” Excitement overtook her at the mention of her dream job.

      Surprise settled on Mr Seo’s face. “Oh, is that so? How come?” 

      “Well, since we have a flower shop as a family business I grew up around nicely smelling flowers. I thought that maybe we could sell perfume as well. That way people would buy more things when they come by and maybe we would be able to beat you.” She giggled lightly and she had both men in front of her raising their brows.

      “Oh yeah. Your father’s and my rivalry when it comes to our flower shops.” Mr Seo smirked at the other man and he averted his head, too embarrassed to make eye contact.

      On the other end of the table, Changbin was both dumbfounded and angry. Not only was she not aware of her father’s real job but she was also naive enough to believe the flower shop story. He doubts that he and his father looked like they could work in a flower shop. He hated this marriage already.

      The rest of the afternoon went smoothly with her, her father and Mr Seo making conversation. Changbin didn’t say anything unless spoken to and for the entire afternoon, he looked like he would rather be thrown out of a moving train than be there. Y/N tried striking a conversation with him a few times but he would either answer drily or would straight up ignore her so she gave up. 

      When they finally parted ways a few hours later she felt like she could breathe again. She was going to have a long and lonely life if this is how their marriage was going to proceed.

      Y/N looked at the lights coming from the city. Everything looked so small from up there. So small that she could pick them up and do whatever she wanted with them. Wrapping her jacket better around her body she leaned against the hood of the car making herself comfortable.

      “How is he?” Minho was looking at her expectantly.

      “He is okay, I guess.” She let out a sigh turning her head to look at his eyes.

      The older man made a clicking sound with his tongue before tilting his head to one side. “Okay? You guess? What am I supposed to understand from this?” He sounded annoyed.

      “He didn’t really talk. He ignored me for almost the entire period we were there. He did say ‘Good for you.’ when I said that I am a good cook, though. In conclusion, okay, I guess.” She was sick of him honestly. The few hours she spent with him today were enough for a lifetime. He wasn’t okay, he was a complete unmannered pig. But she couldn’t say that to Minho. She couldn't tell him about all the dirty looks he gave her or how many times he rolled his eyes whenever she excitedly spoke about her interests. She knew how he would react and that would only make her fall for him even harder. She needed to get over him.

      Minho felt his blood boil at her words. He gave her up, he respected her wish of not going to her father and fighting for her, only for her to end up with someone like him. Wasn’t life a bitch? He could make her so much happier. They could have a carefree life where the only thing they’ll be thinking about was how much they loved each other. But they won’t. Y/N is Changbin’s and as much as he hates it, if she is fine with it he will respect her decision.

      He wrapped a hand around her shoulders and dragged her closer to him. “Maybe you just got the wrong impression. I’m sure it will be ok.” He said that to her but it was more for him. A reassurance and a reason not to start a fight. He wanted to tell her to go against her father. Tell her to think again. Tell her that he was ready and if she spelt the words he would jump in the car and run away with her. Go to a place where no one could find them and they could live a happy life. But he almost lost her once and he can’t risk that again.

      After their picnic “date” Y/N avoided him for a few days and he thought that he ruined their friendship. But then, thanks to someone that probably loves him, she called him. Told him how scared she was of the whole situation and how she’s trying to stay strong for her family. That night she confessed to him many things that got him worried and he agreed to stay by her side because she needed him. He even agreed to walk her down the aisle. Walk with her on arguably the most important day of her life and then hand her over to someone else.

      “Maybe you are right. I hope you are right.” She closed her eyes and inhaled his scent. The last few moments she can spend with him like that before it becomes wrong. And she is going to enjoy them.

      They sat like that for a good period of time in comfortable silence. None of them wanted to go home afraid of tomorrow. But they did because this was not a teenage rom-com where the protagonists end up together. This was the real world and they had to confront it.

[hale-13]

Caliber

By Hale13

For the Summer of Whump Day 12 - Death

Peter grew up like most American kids running active shooter drills thinking (hoping) it would never happen to him.

Words: 2338, Chapters: 1/1 (Complete), Language: English

Fandoms: Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies)

Rating: Teen

Relationships: Peter Parker & Tony Stark

Characters: Peter Parker, Ned Leeds, Michelle Jones, Tony Stark, Various Midtown Students and Faculty

TW: TW: Gun Violence, Blood, Major Character Injury, Possible MCD (if you choose to interpret it that way)

Read on AO3 or below the line break.

Growing up, Peter spent his early childhood in lower level genetics labs with his parents. Part of this was simply because they worked some weird hours at OsCorp but the other part was definitely because they recognized his intelligence and talent early and would give him easy experiments to run while they worked. Safe? Eh, maybe not but Peter had fun.

Well, until they died that is.

After that Peter would spend his time in the hospital daycare or nurse’s break room or sitting at Ben’s desk in the bullpen at the precinct where he worked. Daycare and babysitters were expensive and Peter was having a little separation anxiety from becoming an orphan at six. Peter accredits this formative time in his life to why he has a healthy respect of first responders, why he goes out every night in spandex to help his neighborhood (even if the cops hate him).

After the funeral, after May and Ben went back to work and started taking Peter with them, Ben sat Peter down to go over basic gun safety with him. He can remember that initial conversation pretty vividly: Ben had sat Peter down on the couch and had pulled out his unloaded side arm and the small safe he stored it in. He told Peter just how dangerous weapons could be in untrained hands, how Peter could easily hurt himself or others if he ever touched it, how Ben would always have it locked up but, on the off chance it wasn’t, Peter was to never touch it.

Peter had readily agreed and had steered clear of Ben’s belt and the gun safe next to his side of the bed his whole childhood.

The officers that Ben worked with were, for the most part, super nice to Peter and always took time out of their days to talk to him, bring him snacks and (attempt) to help him with his homework and Peter grew to be the most comfortable in the loud bullpen or the adjacent break room. The summer before he started his freshman year at Midtown, Ben and some of the other officers had given Peter a crash course in gun safety – how to clean, care and shoot a weapon – and it only took one trip to dash Peter’s dreams of working in law enforcement; he never wanted to handle a gun again.

Holding his uncle’s body as he bled out a few months later from the massive hole left in his back by the .45 caliber handgun only solidified that decision.

Luckily, in his tenure as Spider-Man, Peter tended to run into more sub-Ultron and Chitauri fare than the classic handguns and rifles he was familiar with which suited him just fine. When he did come across a run of the mill mugger or rapist who was using a pistol or something similar, Peter took great pleasure in using his super strength to rip it into tiny pieces – destroyed beyond repair and off the streets for good.

This had resulted in some unfortunate bullet grazes and full-on holes in his body that had prompted his helicopter mentor (under the order of Aunt May of course) to force him through another gun safety lecture, complete with a practical portion where Colonel Rhodes assisted in teaching Peter how to properly disarm and disassemble a variety of different sidearms. It was definitely cool to spend time with Actual War Machine but Peter rushed through it as quickly and throughly as possible. He never wanted to have the easy comfort with weapons that Mr. Stark and Colonel Rhodes had – he preferred non-lethal disarmament when patrolling.

All this said – Peter probably had more experience and knowledge with various weapons (human and otherwise) than he had any right to.

All of this experience, all of his time as Spider-Man, everything he had been through did nothing to help keep him calm and collected when his principal came over the intercom while Peter was in gym class to announce a code red shelter in place order. Like most high schoolers in America, Peter had gone through numerous school safety drills so he, in theory, knew what to do in a emergency.

In practice? Not so much.

Coach Wilson had looked just as pale and stunned as the class but had recovered quickly enough to rush the doors. A few other students had also started moving to gather some of the wrestling mats to roll in front of the doors once Coach Wilson had gotten them closed and locked.

He, unfortunately, wasn’t quick enough.

Brian Anderson, a sophomore Peter recognized from the debate team, forced the door open, brandishing the small revolver in a shaky hand. His face was pale, eyes red rimmed with tears with such a desolate look it made Peter’s own heart clench in sympathy despite his rapid heart-rate.

“Back up,” he whispered, using the gun to gesture for the coach to step away and the man obliged; holding his hands up in surrender and slowly backing away from the door. Some of Peter’s classmates, including Ned who, for once, wasn’t right at Peter’s side in class but across the room from him, had started to cry. Michelle, looking stony faced but terrified underneath it all, was trying to shush Betty Brant who was in the middle of a full blown panic attack and trying not to draw attention to herself.

“Okay,” Coach Wilson said, motioning the class members closest to him to back up with one raised hand, his eyes never leaving the weapon. “You’re calling the shots here Brian.”

Brian sniffled, fresh tears spilling over his eyes and hand trembling as he surveyed the room, eventually moving the barrel to point at Mark Conley, one of Flash’s friends and a notorious online bully. Both boys had gone nearly ghost white and the class seemed to be holding its collective breath.

“Sorry Ben,” Peter thought. “Sorry Mr. Stark.”

“Brian,” he called out, voice sounding much more steady than he predicted it would since he was just Peter Parker right now and not Spider-Man. “You don’t want to do this man.”

“Don’t tell me what to do!” Brian spit out, anger over-ruling all of his other feelings and his eyes landing on Peter. “You don’t know what I want to do!”

“I promise you don’t want to do this,” Peter said calmly. “I know what they’re like. You think they treat me any better than you? You’ll regret this if you do it.”

Brian snorted out a dry laugh, not looking like he found anything remotely funny. “Then you should want me to do this.” He said, cherry picking Peter’s words.

“But I don’t,” Peter told him, edging closer to the other boy, making sure to put his body in front of Mark as he moved closer. “Do you know how my uncle died?” Brian, eyes locked with Peter’s, shook his head nearly imperceptibly. “He was shot by some guy robbing a bodega. He bled out in my arms before emergency services could arrive.” Peter said bluntly, doing the best to ignore how his heart clenched and his eyes burned.

The barrel of Brian’s gun dipped down to point more toward the floor and Peter took a few cautious steps forward, stopping when he was only about five feet away. “They won’t stop,” Brian whispered, the tears flowing heavier but his finger still in place over the trigger. “It just keeps getting worse and I can’t take it. I can’t do this anymore!”

“I know,” Peter said, voice soft, dropping his hands down to rest loosely at his sides. He really wishes he had his web-shooters, secret identity be damned. He was never taking them off again, no matter what May tried to tell him about work/life balance. “I know what its like and it sucks but they aren’t worth throwing your whole life away. It’s not worth hurting all the innocent people you’ll hurt. You don’t want to do that to your friends and family.”

“I don’t have any friends!” Brian said loudly, raising the gun back up to point at Peter but Peter didn’t move from his relaxed position even though he felt his heart speed up to a gallop. He faced possible injury and death at least once a week but that was always as Spider-Man… never as Peter Parker.

“I’m your friend,” Peter told him, a little desperate but honest. “I don’t want anything bad to happen to you.” Brian gasped and let the pistol drop to his side in a loose grip. “Just hand me the gun Brian okay? And then we can talk about it, I won’t let anything bad happen to you.”

Brian sniffed and rubbed his free hand over his face to wipe away the tears rolling down his cheeks. “Do you promise?”

“I promise,” Peter confirmed, holding out his hand. Brian nodded and lifted his hand to pass Peter the gun when everything went wrong. Betty, who had been hyperventilating through the entire exchange, finally passed out. MJ tried to catch her but the two of them hit the floor with a echoing bang that startled the whole class. Brian, gun lifted and finger still on the trigger, flinched and jerked to aim back at Mark, shooting.

Everything happened in slow motion for Peter and he grimaced at what he was about to do, saying mental apologies and throwing his body in the path of the bullet, jerking back at the feeling of it hitting him in the chest.

His breath knocked out and his consciousness already becoming more nebulous from the pain that was blooming in his lungs, Peter stumbled forward to yank the gun from Brian’s limp grasp, deftly unloading it with the last of his strength and with shaking hands before throwing the rounds to the opposite side of the gym; collapsing at the other boys feet.

“Oh god,” Brian whispered in horror. “Oh god Peter. I’m sorry! I’m so sorry!” He tried to bend down next to Peter but was swiftly tackled by Abe and Jason where he was wrestled onto his front with them restraining his hands without a fight beyond his gulping sobs.

“You’re alright Parker,” Coach Wilson said soothingly as he rolled Peter onto his back and used his own hastily shed jacket to apply pressure to the steadily bleeding hole in Peter’s chest, causing him to grunt and squeeze his eyes shut in pain. “Thompson! Call 911 and tell them we have the shooter and we need emergency services in the gym. Conley run up to the office and tell Morita what happened!” Both boys jumped into action but Peter ignored it in favor of unsteadily pulling his own phone out of his pocket and sliding it to Ned who had joined the group along with a pale and teary Michelle.

“Call Tony,” Peter coughed out, blood staining his lips and leaked down the side of his face. “No hospital.”

Ned, shaking and crying worse than Peter had ever seen fumbled the phone with numb hands before giving up and pressing the panic button on the side of the phone. Feeling relieved that his mentor was on the way, Peter let his tired eyes close only to rip them open at the flick on his nose.

“It’s not nap time Tiger,” MJ told him, forcing a smile that didn’t reach her eyes. “Don’t want to get detention again.”

“I think…” Peter gasped out, his lungs aching with the strain. “Think this… get me… a permanent… ‘get out of detention’… free card.”

Michelle ran soft fingers through his hair, helping him relax his clenching muscles. He could tell that Ned was on the phone and speaking in rapid, broken sentences. He could kind of hear the sirens approaching, the sound of the building evacuating, crying students. But nothing mattered as much as Michelle. “You just couldn’t help yourself huh?”

“You know… me,” Peter grunted, trying for a grin that didn’t show the tacky blood he was sure was staining his teeth. “No guts… no glory.”

“God you’re a disaster,” MJ said with a watery laugh, a single tear escaping to race down her cheek. Peter wanted nothing more than to reach out and wipe it away but his arms were made of lead.

Before Peter could work up the energy to respond, the doors of the gym were blown off the hinges by repulsers as Tony rushed the room, suited up in his full armor and clearly panicked. “Peter!” He shouted as he stumbled out of the suit, falling to his knees next to Peter and hastily began applying his prototype nanotech bandage to the hole in Peter’s chest before rolling him on his side to repeat the process with his back.

Peter gagged at the change in position, his eyesight fading out to a pinprick of light and his hearing glitching out. The voices around him became ever more harried but Peter couldn’t make out what they were trying to say – all he knew was he was really tired. More tired than he had ever been maybe. Surely no one would mind if he took a little nap?

“Stay with me buddy,” he heard Mr. Stark say as cold, hard arms gripped under his back and knees, lifting him and causing him to nearly black out again. “Just a quick little flight to the Tower Petey,” Tony said, voice wavering and not its usual strong timbre. “Just hang with me for a few more minutes and then you can nap okay kiddo?”

“Tired,” Peter gasped out, chest seizing. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t apologize!” Tony ordered, frantic and yelling over the wind buffeting them. When had they started flying? “Just stay awake.”

“Love May,” Peter whispered, his vision a kaleidoscope of shapes and colors that were rapidly fading. “Love you.”

“Peter!” Tony sounded so far away, Peter thought as his eyes closed against the colors and shapes and lights that were making him feel dizzy and sick.

Just a little nap.

No one would notice.

[johnkrrasinski]

𝐄𝐱𝐢𝐥𝐞

Chapter 1: You Were My Town

full masterlist // series masterlist // commission open // support my work

Pairings: Dark!Steve Rogers (in future chapters) x Reader 

Word Count: 2,061

Summary: Steve Rogers; a Hollywood A-lister and your clandestine occasional hookup. Best friends since childhood, but people change and friendships fall out. Now you were merely strangers with benefits. What happens when one day you stopped being his doormat to be a better man’s queen? The selfish Steve Rogers would not like it. How far is he willing to go to get his favorite possession back?

Warnings: smut, non-con/dub-con, dark Steve (in later chapter), angst, Steve Rogers is an asshole in this one, no redeeming qualities. (MUST BE 18+) 

A/N: first chapter is finally here!! this series is dedicated to the lovely @belovedcherry​ who commissioned this story and developed the concept. thank you for being a friend when i truly needed it. i’m really glad that you trusted me to write this story for you. with all my heart, i sincerely hope you like it. this series will be updated everyday, there will be 4 more chapters ahead. 

PICTURE EXCLUSIVE: New Couple Alert! Steve Rogers and a blondie bombshell can’t keep their hands off each other! The headline verbalized.

The notorious heartthrob was spotted leaving The Ritz-Calton Hotel in Los Angeles around 2 AM with Spanish model, Alondra Ondiviela, 28, who looked stunning in a salmon sports bra and black overall, as she walked hand-in-hand with Dusk and Dawn star, Steve Rogers.

Steve Rogers was last linked to Blade in Deep actress, Anne Amorós back in early spring this year but had reportedly split after only two months dating.

Steve Rogers has been previously linked to many gorgeous models in the past, earning him the infamous title of ‘Hollywood’s favourite ladykiller.’ Will Alondra Ondiviela be the one to finally make Steve Rogers settle down and give up his womanizer ways? Placing our bets on how long this couple is going to last!

You closed the tab on your browser as you sighed defeatedly on your couch. You laid your head back on the headrest as you shut your eyes and folded your arms against your chest. Just how many more gossip articles can you endure?

Steve Rogers was your childhood best friend and… Perhaps the only man you had ever truly loved. You knew it was nothing but sheer naivety for you to concede that. You knew it was cruel and inequitable to your heart, but, you still held on to that tiny glimpse of hope that someday, things will change. He will change. Despite all the shit he had put you through, you couldn’t abnegate yourself from him. He always lured you back in with his sweet words and sinful lips whenever you try to expel him from your door.

It wasn’t always like this. Back in kindergarten, Steve used to be this good, shy, scrawny kid who had a blistering passion for art. He was always very twitterpated by watching live shows on stage. When you were kids, Steve would try to sneak both of you into the theatre when the lights were out. Steve didn’t grow up in a very lucky family. His abusive father abandoned his mother when he was only four years old, and since then, his mom had been working tirelessly to keep a roof over their heads and fill in their fridge with food.

You, on the other hand, were a little luckier than him. Your parents had decent jobs that paid the bills well enough to survive. Whenever Steve was short in cash, you would always offer him a little bit of your pocket money or your meal. You would even offer to buy tickets for both of you so you didn’t have to sneak in and could actually get good seats. But he would always say, “well, where’s the fun in that?”

So you’d drop the topic and go along with whatever deceitful ways he had in mind. After all, he was your best friend and you trusted him. You’d rather choose the thrill of bootleg games than waiting ten minutes early before the show starts anyway. But you remember it vividly under the aura of those stage lightings and when the actors were personifying in their larger-than-life costumes, he would be so mesmerized by the show before him that sometimes he wouldn’t even say a word to you at all until it was over.

Before you went home, he and you would walk to the nearest burger place, where you would eat under the polychromatic neon sign and he would tell you, “someday, I’m going to my face on the big screen or one of those giant stages and I would make my mom proud!” he cheered. And you’d always encourage him, “…and I’ll be there to watch and clap for you in the audience.”

Rest in peace, to your naïve bravado… Little did you know, his dream was going to be your doom.

You remained closed friends as you grew up; going to the same school, sharing a few classes together, until, in high school, things began to change. He began to join auditions and taking art classes and extracurriculars. He became busier and busier every day to the point where he could only hang out with you on the weekends. That is when he absolutely had no rehearsals or he wasn’t too worn out from a week full of activities.

You also noticed the different manner and shift of inflexion when you two hung out. All he would talk about is the ‘clique’ of popular boys in school had asked him to sit with them at lunch and how the popular girls would start preening at him when he walked down the hallway. It was as if by partaking in these arts clubs, it gave him a VIP member card to get access into sitting with at exclusive spots and it upgraded his status.

He changed his looks as well, by going to the gym more often and eating more so that he would gain some muscles. He began dressing like one of those jocks and he would begin throwing in some flirtatious comments to those popular girls when they were around.

Eventually, he and you began to grow apart. It got worse when he started dating one of the popular girls, Janet, and he would ditch you even on weekends despite all the plans you had made weeks prior.

“I can’t hang out today, y/n. Janet’s parents are out of town and I think we are going to hook up in her giant pool!”

“But what about the movie that we planned to see together today? I thought you had been anticipating for it since a year ago?”

“I know, but can we just postpone it? It’s not like they are going to take it out tomorrow! We could still see it next weekend.”

“Well, we’ve bought the tickets, Steve.”

“Ah, shit, alright, I’ll just pay back the money, okay? How much are those tickets?”

“No, it’s fine, Steve. Don’t worry about it.”

“Really? You sure, y/n?”

“Yeah, I’ll just ask my mom or maybe Wanda to go see it with me. Don’t want those spoilers on the internet ruining it for me.” You chuckled hollowly. Disappointment filled up your heart but you pretended like it was alright, anyway. If Steve wanted to spend time with his girlfriend then, you had no right to stop him and force him to hang out with you.

“Ah, got it. Thanks, y/n. You’re the best!” and then the frozen seconds on the screen showed that he had ended the call.

The phone calls and text messages began to dwindle. You would often try to text or call him first but it would go to voicemail and or you would be left on read. When you were at school, Steve completely stopped hanging around you. He would rather be with his new ‘friends’ now. And he was too occupied with making out with Janet to notice you as you both walk past each other in the hall.

Wanda was your most trusted confidant and she knew about all the feelings you caged inside you for Steve. She would always be there for you when you cry over him and she would always encourage you to move on and stop trying to reach him. “You deserve so much better than this, y/n. Why would you ruin yourself for an asshole like him?”

Curse your adamant heart for refusing to listen to Wanda and take her advice. In the bottom of your heart, you knew that Wanda was right. You deserved so much better than what Steve had turned you into. You used to be this bright-eyed, rose-coloured heart person who saw your future in a radiant lustre. You were always drawn to helping people out. You used to think that maybe you’d end up being a nurse or a school counsellor, but as you grew older, gradually, you realized that there is far way more pernicious malady than physical ones.

Like the wound in your heart that Steve keeps tapping on every time he acts like he didn’t know you or he left another call or text unanswered. Every time he posted pictures of him and Janet, or him and ‘the boys’ who would walk around the school as they owned it. You had always dreaded those boys. You knew they were bad news and you didn’t want to be associated with them under any circumstances. You and Steve used to make fun of them, how much of a loser they are and how negligent they are toward their grades. But who would’ve known that Steve would turn into his own worst abomination?

Eventually, like all good (and bad) things, they must come to an end. You graduated with a 3.8 GPA and you were proud of yourself for all those times you spent being at home to do your homework and study until around 2 AM.

You were happy; you were satisfied with your grades, your parents were there, cheering for you in the audience and taking countless pictures of you when you walked on stage, and you could finally move forward to the next stage of your life. But something was missing.

“Gosh, I can’t wait to finally graduate.” He scanned the paper with a mark that mocked him in big bold red as he sat at the edge of your twin-sized bed. You had just returned from school and you had received the result of your Math tests. You luckily got a B+ but clearly, Steve didn’t acquire the same latter.

“C’mon, it’s just one bad test. It doesn’t mean that your life is over.”

“I know but, I don’t like seeing a C+ on my test, y/n. It makes me feel inadequate. Besides, I need a solid 3.7 GPA in order to get into NYU. Otherwise, I wouldn’t stand a chance.”

“Stop being so dramatic, you still have what it takes. You just need to do a lot better in the next one.”

“Yeah, I’m really gonna have to work my ass off though. Math has never been my strongest suit.”

“Neither it’s mine, but you know what? Someday we’ll wear our graduation hat and this wouldn’t even matter. You’d probably forget that you’ve ever had a C in your high school year.”

You recalled those times where Steve would endlessly talk about graduating and what would happen when both of you go on separate ways. He would tell you “don’t be silly. We’ll always be best friends even if we go to different universities. It’s not like we don’t have a phone, y/n.”

You always imagined that on your graduation day, you both would celebrate it together but of course, those dreams have long perished. Steve didn’t even have a smile on his face when your name was being announced.

He was supposed to be there, standing right next to you and engulf you in a warm, giant hug. The one that he used to give on your birthdays. But no, now, you could only watch him from several feet away farther than you both used to be. You could only hear his echoing laugh as he high-fived the boys and twirl Janet around up in the air like the happy ending in your favourite Rom-Com movies.

That should be me. Your heart cry mourned for the memories and the fractured promises. It was like there was this colossal fortress between the two of you and while you were fighting to climb it to reach him, he, on the other hand, didn’t even have the patience to wait for you.

It’s okay though. At least you had your parents and Wanda and her parents and twin brother, Pietro who adorned this special day distracting you away from the anguish of missing Steve. You were going to spend this entire day with the people who truly loved you and you loved just as equal before you had to leave for the new phases of your own lives.

You will finally move to your college dorm, have yourself a roommate, and invest your time and energy in something that you knew you were always meant to do and it excites you that your journey of helping people will start soon.

And Steve Rogers will be nothing but a consigned to oblivion memory that will sink like a battleship beneath the waves.

At least for now.

[yuusa]

𝐌𝐞𝐬𝐬𝐞𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐫 𝐨𝐟 𝐆𝐨𝐝 𝟏𝟒

𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐂𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 𝟑𝟔𝟒𝟒

𝐀𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐃𝐢𝐧𝐧𝐞𝐫

𝐌𝐞𝐬𝐬𝐞𝐧𝐠𝐞 𝟏𝟒:

You knocked on their front door, a basket of food in your hands that you prepped earlier in the day. You hope it wasn’t rude to ask them to use their kitchen, you thought it would be much better to cook them fresh dinner rather than something you stored in the fridge from the morning.

It had been a couple of days since your encounter with Akito and you have been trying to contact Yuki more often. At first, you didn’t know what you were supposed to do in order to “maintain” your friendship, as your relationship with Yuki always seemed to be left in the air, waiting to be taken. 

It was small gestures of acknowledgment you tried to hint at towards him. For example, you told him that Tohru wanted to invite him to a game of badminton after school. While you were unable to attend due to your shift, you encouraged him to play with them, if not for his sake but for yours. You were a bit glad to hear that he came back to you later in the day and texted you about his experience, saying that he felt much lighter than he did earlier. 

You may have replied a bit late due to your shift, but you noticed yourself smiling a bit more often as you began to think about the gray-haired male. Shimada commented on your positive attitude and thought that you might have broken out of your nest to explore the world, while Aikyo said you were choosing a lot more zodiac related stationery. This feeling of caring and thinking about others was flooding your mind like a cup under the faucet, constantly overfilling.

You heard a couple of voices behind the door and some shuffling before the door slid open. Shigure greeted you casually while inviting you in.

“Oh! What brings you here (Y/n)-kun?” He asked.

You lifted up the basket full of food, “dinner. I wanted to thank you for the other time when you invited me for dinner.” 

“That’s amazing! Perfect timing as well, Tohru-kun and Yuki’s brother went out to eat and we didn’t have anything.” You took off your shoes before making your way to the table, seeing Kyo and Yuki sitting there watching T.V. 

“(L/n)-san?” Yuki questioned, “what are you doing here at this time?” 

“I thought it would be nice to cook everyone dinner, as a way to repay you for your previous invitation.” You bowed in front of them politely, “I hope it’s not too much to ask to use your kitchen.”

Shigure waved his hand, “that would be fine! You sure did come at a perfect time!” 

“I see, I had no idea Sohma-san had a brother.” You commented, turning around to the kitchen and opening your basket to reveal several containers. There were several filets of salmon that you recently purchased from the store that was marinated after you came back from your shift. They were a nice color already from the amount of time they slept in the marinade, if you had soaked the salmon in the miso for too long, it would become extremely salty.

“What are you making?” Kyo peered over your shoulder as you unlocked the lid. You took out the apron you brought with you and tied it around your back, securing it with a knot. 

“Miso salmon, I heard in class you were not fond of miso, so I made a separate filet,” You replied, “it’s a bit simple.” 

“That’s fine, I’ve always been interested in your cooking ever since the other girls said you were great at it,” The orange-haired classmate grinned before making his way back to the table, “you better not put chives in it!” 

“Could you be any pickier?” Yuki rolled his eyes while Kyo stood up defensively, trying to explain that chives were probably the devil’s creation. 

“It would be nice to have (Y/n)-kun cook for us as well! Two beautiful girls!” Shigure swooned, “a dream come true!” 

“I hope you don’t get arrested,” Yuki groaned. 

“Are you jealous of (Y/n)-kun cooking skills Yuki-kun? You are quite clumsy with your hands and last time when you tried to coo—” 

“Could we not talk about that?” He snapped back, “I’m starting to get better.” 

“That’s good Sohma-san.” You commented, “practice always helps with improving yourself. I wasn’t very good at cooking at the start either.” You roughly chopped up the vegetables while multitasking, engaging yourself in the conversation. 

“It’s good news to hear that you’re still trying.” You smiled, causing Yuki to turn his head away as his cheeks began to flush. 

Yuki vividly remembers the day the two of you shared a quiet moment on the rooftop, his cheeks beginning to burn a hotter temperature at the thought. He wonders if you still have the drawing the two of you made together.

Shigure hummed, “you’ve been much closer to Yuki-kun lately, did you two do something together?” 

You casually shrugged, pushing the vegetables onto their own separate bowl as a side dish. “Not really.” 

There was a brief pause of silence before hearing someone’s stomach growl. Kyo groaned in response while flipping himself over onto the floor. 

“Don’t worry, it’ll be done soon.” You replied, specifically to his growling stomach. “Where did Tohru-kun go with Sohma-san’s brother?” 

Yuki sighed in annoyance, the feeling of exhaustion directed towards his older brother, “he decided to take Honda-san out to eat at the nearby restaurant.” 

“I see. . .” You didn’t know exactly how to respond, you were an only child after all and you didn’t have anyone to talk to in your younger days. Although you went to the same middle school as Yuki, you both hadn’t crossed paths until you became part of the committee for the first year of high school. 

“How would you describe your brother, Sohma-san?” You flipped over the salmon that was beginning to crisp up slightly in the pan. It was starting to smell really good. 

“He’s annoying, perverted, and most of all strange.” Yuki responded, feeling his blood almost begin to boil at the thought, “makes me wonder how we are even related.” 

“He sounds quite interesting,” you moved the cooking the non-miso salmon for Kyo. 

“No, he is quite the opposite.” Yuki retorted, flipping through the pages of his book.

You carefully plated each of the dishes onto the plates before making your way over to the table. You remember making this recipe in class and just happened to remember it earlier in the day. The smell of salmon and miso filled the room while there was a neatly scooped ball of rice in a small bowl.

“Dinner is ready.” You announced, tucking in your legs underneath you as you sat down with them.

“Oh! Smells good!” Shigure clapped his hands, already holding onto the chopsticks in between his fingers as he smiled. “Do you normally cook like this at home?”

You scratched your cheek awkwardly, “not very often. I take home leftovers from work.”

You were surprised on the inside. You never knew how inviting the Sohma family was until you decided to open the doors. You’ve wallowed up in your own concerns to realize the number of people who also needed help. You gripped the edge of your skirt as the rest of them prayed.

You really didn’t want to think about your own problems, not when you are doing so well at trying to be with others.

“Thank you for the meal.” Everyone said, their chopsticks digging into the meal as they ate.

Yuki eyed you from the other side of the table. Your noticeable change in behavior was quite obvious to him. He wondered if the meeting with Akito changed your perception of things, or if it was the day you heard him cry.

Even at school, you made an effort to address your fans. You would write in your journal less and focus heavily on talking with other people. He felt as if you were forcing yourself to talk to others despite the change in tone. Even though there was that lingering feeling, he can’t deny the fact that you almost look content with what you were doing.

You were simply distracting yourself from your own problems by helping others.

You knew you may not be the best at wording the things you say, and you aren’t the best at being someone’s friend, but you were trying. You felt as if actions spoke more than words could, and that by being able to communicate with people you might even find your own happiness in theirs. It could be wishful thinking, trying to comfort others when you couldn’t even take care of your own self, but the way Yuki’s eyes stared back at you like a reflection in the mirror, you couldn’t bear to see someone like that.

No one else should suffer from your eyes.

You brushed back a few strands of your hair as you quietly ate your food, listening to Shigure talk about his latest book and editor. You wondered if the chance of pace made you easier to talk to. Aikyo told you a couple of days ago that you looked much brighter than you did when she first saw you.

“I’m home!” Tohru’s voice echoed in the halls before turning to see everyone seated at the table, nearly finished with the food. “Oh! (Y/n)-kun, you came over today!”

“Yes. I thought you would be here as well, but I was told you went out to eat. There is an extra salmon filet in the fridge for you to eat later if you ever feel hungry.” You responded, wiping at your lips with a napkin as you placed your chopsticks on top of your bowl.

It didn’t seem like Yuki’s brother came home with her, there didn’t look like there was anyone other than Tohru who came back. You narrowed your eyes at the sight of her holding a stack of clothes and shoes in her hand.

“Tohru-kun, why do you have someone else’s clothes?” You asked.

Tohru began to stutter as the rest of the group went cold, “a-ah! I-I went to the store to buy some!”

You nodded, not really understanding the reason behind her nervousness but decided to overlook it. You noticed that there seemed to be a wiggling creature underneath her actual clothes, the unknown figure slithering close to her neck. You quickly stood up and walked towards Tohru who began to sweat profusely.

“Y-Yes? W-What’s wrong (Y/n)-kun?” Tohru nervously stuttered.

You reached out to her neck and pulled out an albino snake. She squealed in surprise, almost as if she had been caught red-handed. The snake slithered around your arm but you slowly maneuvered it to stay near your hand.

“I’m surprised you didn’t notice this snake Tohru-kun.” You carefully opened up the snake’s mouth to examine its fangs, “it doesn’t seem to be venomous. It might just be a harmless snake, but you should be careful next time when you’re walking home.”

Yuki and Kyo sweatdropped, trying not to say anything that could alarm your suspicions of this mysterious snake. They both knew exactly who it was, but they were lucky the contact with you and him was enough to not transform back. The two of them never knew that you were so calm in the face of a possibly dangerous animal, then again, the only time Yuki has ever seen you look a bit flustered was the time he asked for your phone number. 

“An albino snake. . . I haven’t seen one in person before.” You gently guided the snake and stroked at its cheek with your finger, the animal curling up on your arm as to embrace your warm skin. It nuzzled against your finger while its body continued to wiggle around you. It seemed content on staying with you. 

“O-Oh. . . Do you like snakes (Y/n)-kun?” Shigure cleared his throat.

“Hm. . .” You hummed, “I think they’re interesting.”

Unbeknownst to the group, the white snake was stuck in a predicament. While your body was extremely warm and soft, almost like cuddling a pillow, your eyes looked predatory. He was struggling with the two inner sides of his head, one that wanted to stay in a warm environment or run away from you. This was a very dangerous situation as some eagles were known to consume snakes.

You felt Yuki pull the snake away from you and handed it over to Kyo who stood by Tohru’s side. “(L/n)-san, why don’t I guide you to the bathroom, the snake might be a bit dirty.”

“Sure.” You absentmindedly let Yuki drag you towards the bathroom for girls while Kyo and Shigure dealt with the snake.

He carefully pushed you in and instructed you to wash with soap before closing the bathroom door. Yuki waited outside to stand guard for you. His headache would surely grow if his older brother found out that he was friends with another girl other than Tohru, he might say something embarrassing to you.

He heard the faint sound of the familiar explosion as his flamboyant brother called out to him from the other room.

“Sohma-san, what was that noise?” You asked, feeling slightly concerned as it sounded similar to the one from the school festival, “was that an explosion?”

“No! Don’t worry about it, the neighbors must be lighting fireworks.” He replied, trying not to stutter. You raised your eyebrows but didn’t comment on it any further.

You awkwardly rubbed at your skin with soap while checking your appearance in the mirror. It seems as if the dark spots under your eyes have worsened, but it wasn’t enough to warrant a response or comment from others. You might be able to fix it with light makeup. You washed your face before knocking on the door to alert Yuki you had finished.

“Sohma-san, did your brother come home?”

Yuki opened the door to reveal your washed-up form, your skin slightly glowing underneath the light.

“It appears so.” He sighed before taking you back to the table where his white-haired brother sat.

He had long, flowy white hair that reached to his back. His eyes were much different from Yuki’s, it was a bit familiar to the snake you just touched earlier. He certainly did look like an older version of Yuki.

You politely bowed down in front of him, “it’s nice to meet you, I’m (L/n) (Y/n), Sohma-san’s classmate from school.”

He appears to be quite interested in your appearance as he placed his hand under in chin in a thinking position. He always thought Tohru looked pretty but you seemed to be more of a model. You had nice (s/c) skin that was warm to the touch and soft. Your (h/c) hair framed your face nicely as you peered up to him with your sharp gaze, possibly one that could freeze the room. 

“So you’re my precious little brother’s friend! Nice to meet you, I am Sohma Ayame!” He flamboyantly announced, swinging his arms above his head to emphasize his words, “do you mind coming over to my store?!” 

“Huh?” He grabbed onto your hand while tilting your chin up, your eyes meeting up with his golden orbs. 

“You and Yuki can come over together!” He eagerly asked, his eyes sparkled brightly as he smiled in anticipation of your response. Yuki could feel his annoyance boil at an extreme temperature, almost like a kettle was about to burst. 

“Um. . .” You didn’t know what you were supposed to say. This was your first time meeting someone as energetic as Ayame and you didn’t know exactly how to handle this sort of attention. “Sure. . . ?” 

“Splendid!” He twirled you around, “I will write down the address so you can visit it over the weekend! Be sure to bring my wonderful and amazing younger brother!” 

“H-Hey!” Yuki pulled you away from Ayame, “you’re pressuring her into this. Besides, aren’t you already busy this weekend?” 

Ayame gasped in horror, “you’re right! But I will always make time for you Yuki! Nothing could come between our love. . .” 

“Could you try not to get arrested?!” 

You awkwardly stood in the middle of them, your mind completely blank at the scene unfolding in front of you. Yuki and Ayame bickered back and forth, one trying to convince the other to leave and one desperately trying to rekindle the brotherly love lost in the snow. 

They sure are lively, you thought. Despite how dysfunctional their family was, or how many times they argued and disagreed, they always seem to come together in the end. 

You found it quite strange yet familiar. 

“Honey, it’ll be okay.” Your father comforted your mother as she wept in the other room. 

“Of course it’s not okay?! Have you seen her?!” She screamed, curling up into a ball as your father pulled her into his arms. She rejected his advancements by shoving him back, knocking over some of the ceramics which decorated the halls. “She-Our daughter, she’s gone! Replaced by someone I don’t even know!” 

“How can you stand to look at her?! (F/n)?!” Before she could pull her hand back, he quickly grabbed onto her and steadied themselves. “Let me go!” 

“She’s the devil I tell you! She’s cursed!” She screamed. 

“Calm down (M/n)!” He shouted back, “breathe for me honey, it’ll be fine, you’ll be fine.” 

Your mother stifled her cries as she felt her arms and legs become weak, her fragile body dropping to the floor. The tears in her eyes dropped to the wooden floor like the rain from darkened clouds. Your father knelt down by her side, wiping away at the tears which pooled in her eyes as she sobbed pitifully. 

“It’s okay. We can get through this together.” He whispered, bringing the two of them into another attempt at an embrace. 

You yearned for someone to tell you the same words as well.  

You unconsciously blinked away the small tears in the corner of your eye, but still wiped at your face with the back of your hand. Your lips formed a frown as you quickly gathered up the dishes quietly, the two brothers still bickering in the background as you made your way to the sink. Tohru watched as you slowly washed each of the dishes, still not making any sort of comment to the situation. 

She looks lonely. . . Tohru didn’t quite understand what was going on in your life. She noticed your more cheery side during the week but couldn’t help but feel as if you were still unhappy. You seemed so exhausted every time she sees you outside of school, the dark circles under your eyes never went unnoticed by her. 

Could it be that you were trying to make yourself look happy? She wondered. She noticed that you rarely ever talk about yourself, always contributing to the conversation with a surface idea but never elaborating any further. It was almost as if she didn’t know you at all. She didn’t know what was your favorite color, or what your favorite animal was, all the basic information a friend would know, but she doesn’t have that. She only knows little bits of what you said, you work at a cafe, you live in a singular apartment, and you are an only child. 

Did you have a rough life with your own parents as well? Tohru always wondered why your parents never came to school meetings, why they never came to school events, they never showed up in your life at all. When it came to field trip permissions, you were always the last to turn in your slip despite being one of the top students in the school. When the Home Economics teacher asked the class to make your parents favorite dish, you stood there with nothing, it was almost as if you didn’t even know what your parents liked. It was the first project you ever failed in Home Economics. She remembers this event clearly as the teacher scolded you after class, concern written over her eyes as she tried to confront you about your own family life. 

Tohru knew it was wrong to eavesdrop, but she couldn’t help but hear that you say that you don’t know anything about your parents. 

You stared at the dishes with gloomy eyes, wiping at the surface with soap and sponge, watching as the bubbles formed and disappeared into the black hole of the sink. The sounds of another person’s footsteps came to your side as you turned to them. Tohru smiled at you before grabbing another dirty plate and beginning to wash it with the other sponge. 

“(Y/n)-kun. . . Is there something on your mind. . .?” She asked, your eyes widening for a split second before reverting itself to its original doleful look. 

“. . . No, I’m fine Tohru-kun.” You gave her a smile, the sides of your cheek beginning to hurt. “You don’t have to worry about me.” 

You scrubbed at the stain on the plate, Tohru still watching as your smile drooped down slightly, the pain still evident on your face yet you were trying to cling onto the fact that you were fine. You placed the dish onto the clean rack and reached out to the last one, only for it to be swiped away from you by Tohru. 

“If something is bothering you, you could always tell me (Y/n)-kun.” She washed the plate with a genuine smile, “I’m here to listen.” 

You froze in place, your surroundings being drowned out by the sound of your static heartbeat.

[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. 

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