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neocity-sarai · 4 years

Text

Heartstrings

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Can I show you something?”

“What is it?”

“Just trust me.”

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

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

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

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

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

“Whoa there, slow down-”

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

“Are you alright?” the boy asks again.

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Only a few minutes.”

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

“Okay.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yes. We met like 10 minutes ago.”

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

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

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

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

You follow the nurse, “Maybe.”

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

2 years later

>I wonder if it’s raining in London

I wonder if the moon looks the same where you are

Still think about the sound of you humming

Singing to nothing in your car

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

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

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

First day of class

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

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

“Go take a seat.”

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

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

You nod curtly, “You’re fine.”

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

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

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

>I wonder if you look any different

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

There’s still a little part of me missing

I no longer recognize

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

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

Mark nods, “Ah, I see.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Cool. Good. Yeah.”

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

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

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

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

You nod at him, “That works for me.”

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

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

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

“Let’s go, your friends seem nice.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“How do we do that?”

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

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

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

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

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

“Is there a reason why?”

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

“Ah, I see.”

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

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

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

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

“Mark, can I show you something?”

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

You smile, “Just trust me.”

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

“Just don’t freak out.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I don’t doubt it.”

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

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

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

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

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

“What do you mean by that?”

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

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

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

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

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

“Yes, I sure hope so!”

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

“Yes sir, 3p m- my room.”

“Alrighty, see you tomorrow!”

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

You giggle, “You sure got reinforcements.”

“I have to be prepared!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Thanks for doing this with me.”

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

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

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

“Well, this is me.” you say.

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

You nod, “Yes, bright and early.”

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

>But if I had met you today

Would I have loved you the same?

And if I had known it would take

Ten years and twenty-two days to stop loving you

Stop loving you, no

First day of business

“Mark, is this yours?”

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

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

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

“Yeah, right-”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“8 pm.”

“Deal.”

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

“Mari, please come out! One second-”

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

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

“Okay..”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yeah, yeah.”

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

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

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

“Can’t, I’m driving.”

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

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

“Agh- you know what I mean.”

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

“She’ll be fine, relax.”

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

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

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

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

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

“Y/n?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“See, that wasn’t so bad.”

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

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

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

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

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

“Something to drink, kids?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Mark, you don’t seem okay.”

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

“Well yeah, but..”

Mark bites his lower lip, “Good.”

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

“You know, that boy likes you.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Mari huffs in response, brows furrowed in annoyance.

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

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

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

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

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

“Oh, right, go ahead.”

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

“Holy shi-”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Okay, yeah.”

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

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

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

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

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

Autumn

>Where did the time go?

You became someone I used to know

Where did the time go?

When you became someone I used to know

Used to know, used to know, used to know

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

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

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

“Okay.”

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

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

“Hey, guys.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Where’s Mark and Lana?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Hey Mark. Hey Lana.”

Lana says a barely audible, “Hey.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Y/n? Can we talk? Oh-”

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

“Y/n.. what’s wrong?”

You sniffle, swiping at your eyes, “Nothing. I’m okay, I’m just tired and stressed about the business.”

Haechan’s face softens, he’s fiddling with the zipper on his expensive suede jacket, “I know this isn’t a good time but if I don’t say it now, I don’t think I can. I really, I mean really, like-”

You cut him off, “You like me. Right?”

Haechan becomes still. He freezes, slow blinking, “How did you know?”

“Any girl who can’t see it is more than oblivious. And, I appreciate it. I love you but not in the romantic way. I love you because you’re kind to me, you’re witty, and you make everyone in this group so happy. But I-I just I can’t- ”

“It’s Mark right? Jeno and Jisung told me.”

An awkward beat. You two don’t say a word. It’s just silence between you two, tears falling from your face and onto the pavement. Your nose is running and you’re sure that the other park-goers who pass by are staring at you two like some spectacle.

“I’m sorry, Haechan. I didn’t want to hurt you.”

Hacehan sighs, looking up at the blush pink sky that’s being consumed by inky storm clouds, thunder beckoning rain in the distance. He thinks to himself, I knew it was Mark all along. Why did he even bother? At the time, he thought it was worth the shot. Now, he looks at your crying face, the way your long hair falls over your ears. He takes it upon himself to put one strand behind your ear, wiping your tears with the pad of his thumb, “How could you hurt me? We’re friends and I’ll always care about you. I’ll be okay.”

You stare back at him, it makes the crack in your heart widen. The world is so unfair. It’s unfair to you and to Haechan, to your family. At least, Haechan has a chance of finding a soulmate who isn’t as broken as you. He’ll find some nice girl to laugh at his jokes, tease him when he whines, and buys him video games every holiday. You stand on your tippy toes because of how tall he is, pressing a lingering kiss to his cheek. You whisper, “You’re going to find a soulmate who will love you for eternity- I’m sure of it.”

>I think we must’ve known how it ended

When we wrote it on a napkin with tears and a pen

A couple of kids who pretended

Until it felt real in our heads

Haechan stares at the ground, not saying a word. You take off running, tears running down your face like it matches the hard beating in your chest. It always ends up like this. It’s like the world can’t give you one piece of happiness. You decide to walk home. Call it melancholy or stupid because you can catch a cold, but you’re not in the mood to ask anyone for a ride. You walk on the streets alone, rain coming hard on you. Your hair, your outfit, all of it soaked. And you’re sure that you’ve lost one of your hair ribbons from running. You don’t have strength in you to wish for sunshine. Concerned mothers ask if they can buy you an umbrella and you just decline politely. It hurts, the smell of the rain and mixing of your tears. Your feet are blistered and drenched. In your pocket, your phone vibrates continuously. Mark’s asking where you are and you don’t have it in you to see his stupidly dumb, dorky, adorable face.

Dragging your feet along the pavement, the rain only comes down harder. There’s barely anyone on the streets and cars zip by, splashing puddles onto the cement. Your lungs are choked up from your sobs. That’s when you hear it, a voice calling out to you from a distance. You don’t want to turn around but you can’t stop yourself from doing so. You can’t resist it.

>I guess I don't really know who you are now

I guess that we met with our heads in the clouds

So I look for your name and I say it out loud

Maybe that makes you real

I don’t know how to feel

I guess I don’t really know who you are now

I guess that we met with our heads in the clouds

So I look for your name and I say it out loud

Maybe that makes you real

I don't know how to feel

“Wait! y/n!”

You freeze in your tracks, your back faced to the boy who’s ran all this way to catch up to you. He’s got his hands on his knees, coughing from how fast he had to move. You still don’t turn around, you just feel it. “Let’s talk Monday, I’m not in the mood.” You speak slowly so he can’t recognize the cracks in your voice.

You feel Mark step closer to you, “Why’d you leave? I was going to talk to you, remember?”

You can’t hold it in anymore. You turn around, your tears blurring the vision of a rain-soaked Mark in front of you, “I can’t do this with you anymore!”

Mark freezes, his eyes trained on you. He doesn’t even blink. He stands a few feet away, a crushed and now wet gift box in his hand. “Y/n, just tell me what’s wrong.”

You sigh, trying to breathe air into your lungs, “All this time, I don’t know what I feel. I’m so confused about all of it. You’re confusing me!”

“What are you talking about?”

“God, I’m so stupid!” You wipe your tears, the thunder roaring above your heads. The water doesn’t cease at all. The weather matches the burn in your heart. You heave, continuing, “I have to go. See you in class, Mark.”

Before you can walk away, you feel a firm hand on your wrist.

“Y/n. Look at me.”

You whimper, “I can’t,”

“I said look at me.”

Reluctantly, you face Mark, he’s still holding your wrist. You gaze up at him. His hair is matted against his forehead, cold droplets on his cheeks and trailing down to his chin. His jacket looks heavy and now, there’s barely space in between you. It all happens so fast, he drops the white gift box to the ground, clasping both of his hands on both sides of your face. He’s so close. You can feel the warmth of his breath, see every detail that makes him himself, every little memory and trait.

You search for some sort of sign, trying to calculate his next move, “What are you-”

He cuts you off by smashing his lips onto yours, powerfully and desperately. You melt and your mind’s being clouded by foggy thoughts, his arms supporting you by holding your body up. You’re surprised your knees haven’t given up yet. Mark molds his lips to yours, it’s a back and forth of wet, open-mouthed kisses under the crash of the rain. You both don’t mind. He continues to kiss you like that, eyes shut, pressing his lips harder and harder until you can’t breathe. Your fingers claw through his soaked hair, noses against cheeks, and you reel back to gain more access. His hands move to the make of your neck, his thumb swiping over your cheek. He groans when your tongue meets his, your bodies becoming hot despite the icy crystals falling down on you. You part from him, Mark chasing your lips in response, “Let’s go home and then we’ll talk.”

He swipes the remainder of your tears away, you nod. The whole time you walk home, Mark doesn’t let go of your hand. In fact, he holds your body close to his. You decide to go to Mark’s room tonight. He shuts his door, handing you a towel, “You shower first. I’ll go after.”

You protest, “I’m okay- I don’t really have anything to wear anyway.”

Mark throws one of his t-shirts and a pair of basketball shorts at you, “Wear these, I don’t want you to get sick.”

You smile, “Thanks.”

After a nice long, hot shower- the rain seems more peaceful outside of Mark’s dorm room window. The only light source he has is a lamp that sits on his desk, the print on the lampshade covered with lions. He must’ve had that when he was little. When Mark’s down showering, he wears a grey hoodie and sweatpants and you’d be lying to yourself if you said you didn’t want to kiss Mark again. He sits on his bed next to you, moving his guitar out of the way, “So, what happened?”

You sigh, “When I saw you with Lara, I couldn’t, I don’t know, see you with someone else.” Mark chuckles, “Were you jealous?”

You look at him in the dark, punching his arm slightly, “No- don’t even dream of it.”

“What if I told you I was jealous of Haechan?”

You narrow your eyes at him, “You were?”

Mark rolls his eyes, “Are you kidding? He was practically whispering in your ear and being so close, you know he likes your right? He told me and I told him to go for it but I messed up, I shouldn’t have.”

You play with the frayed thread on Mark’s t-shirt, “He told me, I turned him down.”

“Why?”

“Ugh, you know why.”

Mark presses his finger to his eyes, covering his nose in embarrassment, “I like you y/n.”

You don’t even register when he says it.

You were still talking about something but you pause when Mark’s words echo in your head, “After that kiss? I was hoping that’s what you were going to say.”

You and Mark erupt into a giggling fit, shoving each other. Then Mark pulls out something from behind him, it’s the squashed white gift box. He bites his lip, causing it to glow pink, “I was planning on telling you today and giving you this but someone took off.”

“Sorry about that.”

Mark shakes his head, grinning. He pulls out a tiny, gold necklace that’s in the shape of a sun. Even in the dark, it glimmers. You touch it tenderly, afraid it’ll break in your fingertips, “You got this for me?”

Mark nods, “Can I put it on?”

You turn your back to him, holding up your hair in a ponytail for his nimble fingers to clasp the necklace onto your neck. The cold metal of it soothes your skin.

You touch it, running your fingers over the charm, “It’s beautiful, thank you. For the record, I like you too Mark.”

But in the back of your mind, there’s that shadow that always remains. It takes the form of fear, uncertainty- telling you that you do not deserve happiness or you do not deserve to love anyone. Still, it doesn’t stop Mark from leaning over to you and kissing you once again. He uses his fingers to trace your hair and the hollow of your neck, the side of your arm. It makes you shiver, it makes goosebumps rise in hills. You grasp his black locks, lips once again moving in a syncopated wave. Mark mumbles several hums, addicted to the taste of the way your lips feel. You want Mark. You want him so badly it kills you. You’re afraid to fall and it makes you want it even more. Pulling his hoodie, you fold your legs over his lap, straddling him. It makes him heated, blush spotting his cheeks and his neck. He runs his soft hands over the skin of your thighs and traces the waistband of your shorts. You’re trying your best not to lose self-control. It goes out the window when he removes his hoodie, his skin glowing under the lamp light.

You run your thumb across his collarbone and the curves of his abdomen and chest like you’re connecting constellations. You press your swollen lips to the base of his collarbone, rubbing your hand on the warm skin of his shoulder, “Have I ever told you that you’re gorgeous?

”Mark doesn’t answer, he’s busy tipping his head back, shutting his eyes from the feel of your lips on his skin. He opens his eyes before leaning over to move your hair behind your ear once again, nibbling on your earlobe. You accidentally moan when he moves to the juncture of your neck, it turns Mark on even more. He swipes his tongue by the base of your neck, “I.” A kiss. Don’t know if.” A kiss. “You remember this.” A kiss. Mark parts away to finish his sentence, “I remember you from that night at the hospital. Do you remember me?”

That’s when you snap out of it. You gaze back at him, replaying everything in your head. Your mom. The shrine. The gift. The sun and the rain. You slide off his lap, touching the area of your shoulder. The shadow in your mind, the voice in your mind telling you not to give in.

“Y/n? Is everything okay?”

You nod, “Yes, I remember you. When we first met, I said that we didn’t because everything that day was so blurry that I cut it out of my memories. But for what it is, I remember you.”

Mark looks sad, immediately regretting he even brought it up. You mold your hand to his cheek, “Hey, it’s okay. I’m glad I met you back then, that will never change.”

Mark opens his mouth to say something but closes it when he finds a spot pinging, a tiny glow appearing on his hand. When you look down too, a glow appears on the same spot of your hand. After a couple seconds, the glow forms into the shape of a sun, Mark’s name glowing above it. Mark’s glow forms into the shape of a raindrop, your name glowing on his hand in cursive letters.

You both look at each other and back to your hands, “Does this mean-”

He lets out a breath he’s been holding, “You’re my soulmate?”

While Mark’s ecstatic, you feel a weight just drop in your stomach. No. Not right now. Mark realizes you’re staring at your hand, you look as if you had just seen a ghost. You almost wished you had.

“Is everything alright? Did I-?”

Instantly, you grab Mark’s hands, “I need you to listen to me carefully okay?”

Your hands are shaking now and you feel like you’re going to burst into tears again. This is the worst thing that you can do to someone, this is why you were reluctant to have Mark in the first place. You love him so much you can’t bear to hurt him like this.

“Y/n… what’s happening?”

Slowly and delicately, you lift off Mark’s t-shirt over your head. Mark’s expression is utterly, painfully blank. He stares at you, unmoving.

“What is that?”

Though you’re in the dark, it shines brightly clear. The skin of your shoulder is completely coated with this invisible matter, tiny bubbles floating through it. It resembles the rain. The thing is consuming your shoulder and gaps of your chest are missing. No person could tell if they didn’t see your naked body.

Mark leans forward, running his hand over your shoulder, his fingers go right through your body like it isn’t there.

“Please tell me this isn’t real. This is just a joke right?”

You place your head in Mark chest, your arms hugging his bare waist, “I found out my gift comes with a price. My body is becoming a part of the weather, a part of the sky above. Ever since that day I stepped into the shrine on top of the hospital, I saw water floating upwards- this is the consequence for toying around with nature.”

Mark doesn’t say anything. He thinks for a moment. He grips the comforter you both sit on top of. Then, he speaks, “Can’t I fix this?! There has to be a way- maybe if I go to the shrine and figure something out-”

You release him, putting your hands on both sides of his face, “You can’t. I’ve tried everything. I even went to a priest, a shaman, anyone I could find. You heard about the forecasters talking about the floods right? As long as I’m here, this city will be underwater. I’m a glitch in the system. I’m the virus in the code, blocking the world from being natural.”

>I guess I don't really know who you are now

I guess that we met with our heads in the clouds

So I look for your name and I say it out loud

Maybe that makes you real

I don’t know how to feel

I guess I don’t really know who you are now

I guess that we met with our heads in the clouds

So I look for your name and I say it out loud

Maybe that makes you real

I don't know how to feel

Mark begins to cry. Tears fall from his eyes, dropping onto the skin of your hand. All you can do is hug him as tight as you can, fearful that if you let go- you can’t have him back, “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you. I’m sorry. I’m sorry I’m hurting you. I’m so so sorry.”

Mark sobs into your shoulder for the next hour or so. When he’s tuckered out from crying, you put him to bed, standing up to walk towards Mark’s desk. You decide to write letters to your aunt, Mari, and your friends. You even leave one for Lana. When you’re finished, you slip under the covers next to Mark. You use your fingers to touch his eyelids and his nose, his cheeks and the ruffle of his hair because you know it will be the last time. Pressing a kiss to his nose, you settle against Mark’s chest, knowing the sky will claim you in the morning.

In the morning

The next morning, Mark wakes up from what he thinks is a nightmare. He sweats profusely, he feels dehydrated,and his throat feels like it’s being ripped open. The worst part is when his heart begins to settle, he sees his own hoodie and basketball shorts where you had lay next to him. Though he wasn't awake, he remembers it all. He remembers you sitting at his desk, you kissing his nose. He remembers your warmth. This can’t be the end. Mark takes the first morning train to the hospital. He calls his friends, Jeno, Renjun, and Haechan to the hospital. Over the phone, he tells them he’ll explain later, he just tells them that you need them. They drive there as soon as the train departs. From arriving at the hospital, everything is like a blur. The hospital staff doesn't want to let some random teenage boy up onto the room, warily suspicious of the request.

That's when Haechan, Jeno, and Renjun risk it all for you and Mark, tackling and holding back the employees even if they’re radioing security at that very moment. Mark races up the stairs after grabbing the keys to the door, he remembers when those were his keys. He talks to himself. Please. Please. I have to see her. I have to see her one last time. He even prays to whoever’s up there about it. To his dismay, when he gets up there- he doesn’t see a shrine like you had described. He kicks the metal railing out of anger, screaming into the air as he calls out your name. He demands the sky to give you back. No one answers and it kills him.

From up there, you wake up in an unfamiliar scenery. You sit up, groggy from sleep. Looking down at your hands, you don’t believe it. Water takes the form of you, replacing your skin with invisible liquid. You’re sitting on what seems to be like a cloud, fish made out of rain droplets flying all around you in schools. When you look above you, it’s another world. A whale made of thunder clouds lets out a bellow, voices of children laughing when lighting strikes. There’s a castle floating in the distance, each level of the castle painted with different hues of color. It’s all eerily beautiful. Despite its beauty, no one’s around. You’re all alone.

You touch your shoulder, only feeling nothing but water. Your body isn't real. It means the sky has completely and entirely claimed you. That’s when you feel a cold metal thing hanging around your neck. Mark. Mark’s still down on earth. You begin to hold onto it, the chain slipping out of your fingers and through the cloud that you sit on, you scream Mark’s name as loud as you can. You cry and you scream, sobs wracking your entire body. That was the last piece you had connected to Mark, your soulmate. This is your consequence. What good are soulmates if there’s only one half to the whole? What is the point? Even so, you love Mark so much. You miss him.

Mark screams at the sky, tears lining his eyes. He sees something shine above him, dropping onto the pavement by his foot. When he crouches down for a better look, it’s the sun pendant that he gave you last night. He squeezes it in his hand, screaming for you. There is no answer.

In front of him, some shape materializes from a blurry image. When it focuses, it morphs into a red archway just as you had told him in the library. He runs up to it, desperate for any sign of you. He asks your name. Still, there’s no answer. He takes it upon himself to do the unthinkable. Maybe he’s crazy, maybe people will think he’s insane. He doesn’t care, all he wants is to see you. He steps under the red archway. He feels it within his body. The bells that hang by strings chime, the water from inside the stone fountain begins to flow upwards like slow motion evaporation. Then all of a sudden, he’s falling.

Winds rip his clothes and rip through his hair, he’s screaming. Everything is a blur of white clouds and flying animals made of water. He hears the thunder and sees the lightning too, it’s all consuming and real. He knows he’s not on earth anymore. That’s when the clouds begin to part, he sees you sitting there. You’re crouched up on a cloud, head buried in your knees. He screams for you, causing you to snap your head up at the voice. It can’t be. It can’t be Mark. But it is, the boy who is your soulmate is falling out of the sky above, emerging from the clouds and reaching out for you.

The wind gusts him away from the cloud you’re sitting on, “MARK!’

“Y/N!”

You don’t care at this point. You jump off your cloud, the wind current carrying you to Mark before you’re free falling with him. You outstretch your hand to him, your voice can’t be heard in the screaming wind. He reaches to you, straining his face while doing so. When he manages to grab hold of you, he’s surprised to know it feels like he’s holding a person given your body. You fall together, hands enclasped in hands. You yell, “What are you doing here?! You shouldn’t be here!”

Mark holds on so tight, “I had to see you! I’m not letting you go, I don’t care! Aren’t you my soulmate? You have to stay with me!”

“Mark, if I go back down there, we all have to pay the price. Just let me go!”

“I’m not doing it y/n! I won’t do it! I don’t care! I choose you over the weather! I choose you over the sky! I just need you.”

You smile at him. Oh, Mark. Then, something else happens. Mark’s teardrop starts to glow golden, the light enveloping the entirety of his arm and spreading to his body. Even though your hand is made of water now, your sun starts to ping in syncopation with Mark’s mark. Golden light shimmers, rays exploding like sunshine as Mark holds you close. He’s there and he’s real, you can smell his scent of body soap that he uses, he’s so warm. The world blurs together in a series of colors and emotions, blues and yellows and silvers. It’s layers of rain and layers of snow, it’s as if you’re falling out of the cosmos and it’s endless.The sensation of falling ends. You open your eyes slowly, you find yourself cradled in Mark’s chest on the hospital’s rooftop. Your head aches and it throbs like hell, but still, you jump back when you realize that your body isn’t liquid anymore. Mark pulls your shirt down to check your shoulder, it’s nothing but human flesh and bone. You gaze back at Mark, “You saved me. You pulled me back down.”

It doesn’t take any time for Mark to kiss you the hardest he’s ever kissed you. You both sit there for a while, cradled in each other’s arms. Mark digs his nose into your neck, “I can’t live without you. You’re my soulmate, there’s no one else.”

You nod as you run your fingers through his hair, “You and me against it all then.”

1 year later

>Where did the time go?

Where did the time go?

When did you become someone I used to know?

Where did the time go?

After the day that Mark pulled you down from the sky, you thought that you’d spend every second with each other after. Instead, it was the opposite. Because you were on earth, the rains and the flooding never stopped. You weren’t able to control the weather anymore and the outcome that the forecasters had predicted became true. Almost 50 percent of the city was already underwater and still sinking, many people died trying to escape the floods or had to quickly evacuate. It disrupted everyone’s lives but at the time, Mark thought it was worth it for you. After that day, you told him you decided on something. You told him that you loved him and that you’d always find your way back to him, no matter what. After all, soulmates become linked. During your last semester of university, you wanted to spend time with your family and to travel the world with your aunt- in case the sky were to claim you once again. In case you were told that the world would end tomorrow, you wanted memories that lasted and time to tell all the people in your life that you loved them. You wanted to heal from your past, trying to find ways to connect to your parents like meeting their relatives or reading your father’s journal.

Somehow, Mark took it well. Though he was sad for several days, as were your friends that you were leaving (yes, you explained to them the entire situation, they still have a hard time believing it). You knew that things would change. You’d pick up small updates here and there, graduation was approaching and Mark had chosen to participate in a training program to become a singer. Haechan found his soulmate at his work, the other boys doing their own thing. You hadn’t seen Mark in almost an entire year. Now, today was the day that you and your aunt would be coming back from a backpacking trip in Europe. You knew Mark would also be coming home the same day. On the plane, you thought: Did he forget you? Would he have found someone else? Does he remember it all?

The moment you landed, you changed at home- walking over to the coffee shop where you and Mark had planned business meetings frequently back then. Walking through your city felt nostalgic to you, the way your younger self ran through the streets, praying for tomorrow’s sunshine or the way you and Mark would hang out together most weekends. Even the memories of hanging out with your friends before class, walking Mosby with your aunt during the autumn season, and pasting photographs on your dorm room wall felt like long ago. Upon entering the establishment, you closed your umbrella before taking a seat at an empty table. A barista took your order, who happened to be one of your other classmates from university. Even seeing them after a year, which isn’t too long- still felt surreal.

The bell on the cafe’s door chimes, the barista at the counter greeting the stranger. That’s when a familiar voice makes you snap your head up. There he is, standing in the flesh in front of you. Mark sports black dress pants and a button up, his figure taller, leaner- more muscular, has he been working out? Mark’s hair is gelled back, different from how he looked before. It looks good on him. His familiar smile spread across his face, a teardrop glowing golden on his hand, “You seem familiar. Have we met before?”

You nod, running into his welcoming arms.

@czennienet @neowritingsnet @dreamwritersnet

174 notes · View notes

roses-ruby · 5 years

Text

{Bunny Cam}

Jungkook x Female Reader

Genre: Stalker AU, Angst, Smut, Mature

Warnings: Masturbation, Oral (Male receiving), Sex but not really, Obsessive/Possessive behavior, Toxic relationships, Yandere, Cursing, Spanking, Homophobia, Mentions of a slur, Mentions of gore, Murder, People being shitty

Word Count: 14,242

Summary: He watches when you sleep, he knows if you’re awake. He knows if you’ve been bad or good, so be bad only if you dare.

A/N: Lmao, the summary fucking sucks akfbkfbouhfo (so does the story). I planned this for kookie’s birthday but I wasn’t finished so fuck me. This is pretty dark so please be careful and make sure you read the warning! Edited but I’m always a dumbass so let me know if you find any mistakes. Also let me know what ya’ll think🥺 As always, enjoy!

He’d been at this for a while.

Well, a while could mean a considerable number of things. Let’s say he’s been at this for a long time; more accurately 3 years. He had your schedule memorized to a fault. The way you liked your eggs in the morning to the number of panties you owned, he could answer it in his sleep. He probably does, he thinks. Mumble about you in his sleep. You occupied his mind 24 hours in a day, and that’s why he felt he should be watching you all the time – like right now, as he sits uncomfortably on top of the willow tree next to your window. Perched in a posture that embarrasses him, with a branch digging into his inner thigh.

It’s all worth it when you finally come out from your steaming bathroom, a towel hanging dangerously low on your chest, showing the beginnings of your soft mounds. He almost moans at the sight, both from frustration at your tardiness and the sudden tightening of his crotch. Positioning his camera in front of his face, he eyes your figure through the lens. Careless yet graceful, you dance around your room from one end to another picking up your laundry and placing it in a basket. His camera softly shutters each time he decides to save a pose from you, which happens a lot. He wonders if he’ll get lucky once you head to your dresser and pick out a light orange sundress. A smile graces his features at your choice. It was one of his favorite dresses on you. But sadly, luck was not on his side as you come up to the window and shut the eggshell curtains on him.

Huffing, he sits up a tad to find the ledge he uses to exit the tree with his leg.

He learned the hard way that once you closed your curtains, you usually don’t open them for the rest of the day; so now he has to head home. He was disappointed of course, he wanted to continue watching you – especially in that dress. But its fine, better things await him at his house. Shoving his camera inside his satchel, he jumps off your back porch and runs to the alleyway a few meters from your place. There in the dark lane lays his locked bike, which he unlocks and hops on – beginning his ride home. He lived a few blocks away from you, not having the money to live in your side of town; but once he did, he planned on becoming your neighbor. It didn’t matter if you already had one, he knew he could take care of them easily.

After peddling for around a mile, he parks his bike near the run-down, motel-like apartment complex he lived in. Binding it to the rusted and useless ‘Cheap rooms available!’ board pole, he runs up the stairs to the second floor. The whole place was dirty, rat and roaches scurrying the floors ever so often, and there was a strong musty smell that enclosed the compound. The paint from the walls was chipping – tainted by unrecognizable stains and the wooden foundation grew mold. He hated this place, even if the rent made up for the appearance. Often, he would get into a quarrel with the land-owner, despising the man’s careless attitude towards the residence as well as toward his own rotten teeth and hairy chest. One day, he’d love to grab a blade and slice it right through the old man’s heart, but he promised you he’d only kill for you. Stomping his way past the ancient doors, he makes it to his own and slams it shut once inside.

His sanctuary.

Switching on the light of his small studio, he walks to the computer, settling his bag down by the twin bed. He scratches under his ribs over his hoodie as he settles into his chair. The tree by your house was filled with blood sucking bugs and he should probably do something about it, but he’s always so distracted by you he barely remembers to get other shit done. There was evidence of that scattered all over his cramped space, especially the floor. The 4 walls surrounding him are filled with photos of you on various days and angles. Polaroids of you hang in a line from a string on the ceiling, stretching out from one end of the room to the other. In front of him are multiple monitors, which he opens to reveal a video of you on your bed in your room. He lets out a content sigh at the sight of your calm form laying on your bed with a book. Your beauty shone even through the grainy pixels of the tiny spycam he hid in your room.

Moving the live feed to the smaller monitor on the right, he pulls up the spycam taping your bathroom, or more so your shower. He shuffles around his desk, picking up an open beer can from underneath his table. Relaxing back in his chair, he rewinds the broadcast to around 40 minutes ago, taking a sip of his drink. There you were, climbing into your shower, closing the glass door behind you. His eyes greedily graze your naked form, your radiant skin, the curve of your slender back, the way your nipples perked forward at the cold air. He was so glad he spent the extra money on this spycam with higher definition than the others hidden around your house, even if it left him broke for a month. His breath hitches when you slightly bend down to turn on the faucet, messing with the knob to get the perfect temperature for your shower with your ass on display. What he wouldn’t give to spread your cheeks apart, run his tongue along your folds and anus, drive his thick fingers deep into your cunt and have you dripping down his arm.

He didn’t notice how hard he was clenching the aluminum can until it exploded all over him, soaking through his jeans and hoodie. Groaning he picks up the tissue box next to his bed and begins wiping himself off. It was good that he became distracted before he could get too worked up, it was still light out and he didn’t want to be spent before midnight again. Throwing the tissues next to the other used tissues on the floor he gets back to doing his favorite thing. Pausing the window of your shower he brings back the live feed of you in your room to the main monitor. He smiles at you still lounging on your bed, the book placed over your chest as you scrolled away on your phone. You could be so lazy on the weekends, he cooed at your leg haphazardly dangling off the side of the bed. He loved it when you stayed indoors by yourself like a good little girl, it meant he could have you all to himself for the periods he spent watching you. It was just him and you, no one who could disturb his time between you both.

It isn’t clear to him when exactly you stopped connecting with the outer world. Perhaps it was when your lovers mysteriously vanished 3 years ago, or when men stopped trying to flirt with you all together. He recalls how scared you had been when officers came to interrogate you, and as bad as he felt – as much as he wanted to blow the heads off their burly bodies – he knew you deserved it for thinking you could make room in your life for anyone that wasn’t him. Or maybe it was because your best friend refused to talk to you ever again; a small rumor making its way to her ear about how you slept with her dad. Which was easy to believe seeing how he’d been fucking girls younger than his daughter for years. Most likely it’s when your parents cut off contact with you, the reigning black sheep of the family, when they received the sex tape you shot with your ex marked from you. An ex he ended up smashing each finger off of. Whatever it was, it was definitely because the gods had blessed him. You were meant for him and only him, and the circumstances that had all seemed to work in his favor only solidified that fact.

It was when he was off reminiscing about the most important years of his life that he bumped his leg into a hard brick-like object under his desk.

“Fuck,” He curses as his legs feels a light ting. Rolling back in his chair, he stares at the culprit that was the large stack of white paper. The manager had handed it all to him yesterday after he finished his second week of overtime; ‘to be stapled and collated’ he said. That motherfucker. Because of him – not only did Jungkook not have time to get home earlier to you, but he had to haul the hefty pile of papers uphill on his bike.

Whatever he thought about that guy doesn’t matter – he should get started on this task soon. Since this job is the one job he can’t afford to lose. So, with a heavy heart the young man clears his desk of the old ramen containers and sperm tissues and empty weed bags with one swift arm movement, cringing when he hears them hit the floor. Bending down, he easily heaves the stack up onto his now empty desk and begins to shuffle through them. Then he looks back up at you who’s back to reading her novel. If there was one thing he’d never do, it was show you how much of a slob he actually was. He couldn’t bear the thought of you finding him disgusting, so when he finally got you, he knew he’d do all the cleaning and housework. And that was fine with him, as long as he got to enjoy being a bit filthy while he was alone in this dreaded place. You would never find out, of course.

He starts to read the first document he grabs, something useless about company liability. Then he moves on to the next one, and the next. Until his mind is full of words and a yawn is crawling up his throat. Jungkook eyes you every few minutes or so, making sure you were still be his good girl. And that’s how he ends up spending his energy that day.

He wakes up with a large intake, forcing himself to sit up with his nose feeling strangely stuffed and his spine aching. As he adjusts his groggy vision, he notices the documents in a neater stack on the edge of his desk. That’s when he recalls the night before – how he was double tasking while trying to keep an eye on you lounging about. How you both took a break for dinner and watch some stupid melodrama with that tall actor you liked. And how he finally fell asleep on his desk at 2 in the morning while stapling said documents after you turned your lights off.

Jungkook didn’t have money for night vision cameras yet, but he was working on it! It sucks that everything was so expensive these days, especially love.

Yawning, he stretches his arms and back as he opens his sleeping screens hoping to see your face to cheer up his otherwise crappy consciousness. His face quickly falls however, when he notices you’re not in your bedroom or bathroom or living room or even your driveway.

Shit.

He freaks out and jumps out of his chair in sore legs, reaching for his bag on the bed.

9:12 his phone displays – making his round face turn pale. Running around in his room, he rushes to get ready. His bladder was especially full of the beers from last night. Other than that, there wasn’t much he had worry about since everything could be easily completed by multitasking. Such as brushing your teeth while pulling up your socks or combing your hair and looping your belt. After chaotically tying his white striped tie around his collared neck, he spritzes on the expensive cologne you once mentioned you like on a man, spraying on a bit more than usual since he hadn’t had time to shower. With that, he stuffs the skillfully collated and stapled documents into his black leather satchel and sprints out the door.

20 minutes later he was in front of the 25-story glass building. His nerves were eating at him as he hastily locked in his bike and entered the automatic doors. In front of him stood a black suited man in shades with his arms crossed.

As Jungkook jogged up a couple steps, the man raised his huge hand to stop him.

“I.D. please,” He spoke in a gruff voice

“Right,” Jungkook zipped open the front pocket of his satchel and brought out an employee I.D., swinging it around his neck. The man stepped aside, and he let Jungkook scan his I.D. in the machine next to him, that let out a green light afterward – letting him inside the small screen doors. He exhaled a breath, continuing his run to the elevators and punching in his floor. His insides felt like they were plummeting the whole ride up.

He really just wanted to quietly go to his desk, without making any ruckus or causing a scene but luck wasn’t on his side this time as the first person he sees when the doors slide open is his aging supervisor and his scowl. Once the man thoroughly eyes him in minor surprise of running into him, he frowns.

“You’re late,” The man grit through his yellow teeth

“I’m s-sorry, sir. I was up all night an-”

“I didn’t ask for excuses Jeon,” He sneers, “This is the second time this month, once more and I’ll have you kicked out of here- ass first, understand?”

“Yes sir,” Jungkook bows and steps aside to let the man use the elevator.

Before the doors slide close, his supervisor gives him another threatening glare. “Did you finish what I ordered? I’ll be back soon, and I better not find one mistake on those documents, you hear me Jeon?

“Yes sir” Like hell you’ll be back soon, you aging bastard.

Once he’s out of sight, Jungkook let’s out a sigh. He thought he was gonna lose his job today for sure. It wasn’t out of the ordinary for Mr. Jang to act this way towards him and most of the team. The only people – correction women he’s nice to are the ones he finds fuckable. Still, he’s glad this didn’t happen in front of you.

He opens the doors to the office space, breathing in the cold air conditioning and watching everyone scurry about as usual. Some girls glance at him as he indifferently passes them on his way to his corner. His desk was luckily located with yours directly in front. Even though yours was closer to the Manager’s office and his was further back near the conference room. When he sits down in his chair, he notices you’re not at your desk. For a few minutes, he just eyes your empty area with confusion. The worry he felt this morning crawling back into his system.

But it quickly dissipates once you make your way out of the manager’s office, a few files in tucked under your right arm. Jungkook’s mood easily shifts at the sight of you and his heart starts to beat faster. He couldn’t go too long without seeing you, your graceful figure in that tight pencil skirt flawlessly hugging your hips. You sat at the front with rest of Team A who you supervised. Your side of the lineup were considered company gems; the pay was better, working conditions were more lenient and you all even had a dental plan. Sadly, thanks to him not knowing what to do and ultimately dropping out of college, he was grouped into Team B – the dispensable ones. His group was overworked and underpaid – even though the company made it seem like they treated all their employees equally. That was total bullshit.

And they had the worst fucking supervisor. An ancient stickler tyrant who acted like he was stepping out for business when Jungkook knew he was out fucking some blonde prostitute he was obsessed with in some cheap motel behind his sick wife’s back. Nothing in this company benefitted him. Not the pay, not the hours, and definitely not the bitchass supervisor. Nevertheless, he slaved all his days in this building for you. Looking up in your direction again, he smiles. He got to see you every day and that was enough for him. As long as you remained here, he would never quit. Just then a scowl made its way onto his soft features. What were you doing in the manager’s office half the time? Jungkook knew it wasn’t anything like that – that you were just doing your job, but doesn’t he call you in way too many times a day? His fingers clenched the strap of his bag as Jungkook thought about that man making a move on you.

You’re not good enough.

He was so lost in thought that he didn’t notice the clacking of heels and a pleasant scent light up his area.

“Jungkook?”

He jumps when he hears your voice, rolling back slightly. There – in front of him you stood with a large halo surrounding your figure. His throat feels caught as you meet his eyes and raise an eyebrow. You were the most beautiful being in the universe, he bet even angels compared themselves to you. But they wouldn’t hold a candle. Jungkook felt over the moon at your proximity, cameras couldn’t capture the absolute divinity you embodied so casually. The tip of your nose, the smoothness of your glowing skin, the light makeup over your eyelids. Even the posture you stood in was lethal. Everything was luring him in until he was completely lost and at your mercy, and he’s certain that showed on his face. He sucks in a breath as he hears you speak again, some uneasiness in your melodious tone.

“Umm…you’re Jungkook, correct?”

As he processes your expression at his odd behavior, he forces himself out of his reverie. Can’t have you thinking he’s a weirdo.

“Y-Y…Yes,” He manages

“Oh, good. I was just wondering if you have those documents Mr. Jang asked for? He called to tell me he would be a bit late and if I could retrieve them and give them to Mr. Kim”

Jungkook had always wanted to skin the face off his supervisor, but in this moment, he’s never adored a man more in his life. You actually came all the way over here and talked to Jungkook because of that old man’s incompetence. He hopes Mr. Jang receives the blowjob of his life today.

You eye the boy staring at you with wide bunny eyes. He was always so strange, you wondered why your female colleagues gushed over him so much. You were about to speak again when he stands up straight – making your startled feet shift backwards slightly.

“Umm…Yes!! I have them,” Jungkook states with his voice higher than usual. He opens his satchel and digs out all the documents, presenting them to you with one hand.

“Oh, thank you,” As soon as you reach out for them and bumped your hand into his accidently, he let’s all the documents go. They fall to the floor with a loud ‘thunk’ making a few heads in the neighboring desks turn your way. “Oops.”

You bend to the ground, gathering up all the paper once again. Most of them were in stapled piles, so thankfully they didn’t scatter around too much. When you assembled the bunch, you look back up at him from your position on the floor. His eyes seemed like they would pop out of his skull and you thought you heard him gulp as he continued to observe your position on the ground. Slowly you stand up straight, feeling unnerved.

“Thank you,” You say once again holding the documents on your chest. When you fail to obtain a response, you just awkwardly turn around, sensing his eyes following you all the way back to your desk.

What a weird guy.

Jungkook’s legs feel like a frail horse once he makes it back home. Trudging up the stairs and into his room with a slumped back, he jumps right into bed and kicks off his office shoes. He covers his eyes with his arms.

Then he smiles, stretching his pink lips and displaying his bunny teeth. He smiles so big and wide.

Wow. Wow. Wow. WOW.

You graced his presence. You talked to him. You even touched him.

Holding his face in his hands, he rolls around the compact bed like a teenage girl. Holy shit. This was real.

It’s not that you hadn’t spoken to him before – I mean you both did work in the same company for years and he’s wrote down previous dates of conversations in his both his calendar and journal. But you’ve never made this much eye contact, he’s never got to study your face this close for so long, and you definitely had never touched him. He almost exploded right then.

And then, the part that virtually killed him. You were on your knees…right below him. Innocently staring back up at him. FUCK!

Jungkook groans as recalling that image has him hard instantly. His mind was racing, and he felt he was going crazy with his body temperature continuing to climb. The sun was just beginning to set which let orange streaks of light into his room through the blinds. He huffs as his hand caresses down his torso to grab his bulge, hissing when his fingers make contact. Swiftly, he unbuckles his slacks, pulling them off his butt to rest on his knees. He continues to fondle his hard on through his briefs, moaning when imagining your soft hand instead of his much larger one.

His imagination takes him back a few hours ago, with you on your knees in front of him. But this time there’s no documents on the floor to pick up. This time, no one else is around the chattery office space – unworthy peasants breathing the same air as you. This time, your eyes have a dark undertone in them as you sit there without any clothes on. Your skin was as smooth as porcelain, color reflecting the ceiling lights of the office. He holds his breath when you take your right breast in your hand, pinching your perky nipple with your thumb and index finger. No distractions. No distance. It’s just you and him, and this heavy atmosphere.

“Jungkook,” You say in a sultry tone, crawling closer to him on all fours.

“Fuck,” He curses as you hook your fingers into the waist band of his underwear, slowly pulling the cloth down with a smirk. Jungkook catches a tiny gasp from you as his erection springs up to his stomach in front of your face. You lightly grab the underside of his shaft as his breathing becomes heavy. Poking your tongue out – you lick a stripe up his dick, and he tenses, shoulders rolling back with a shiver. With a mischievous glint, you bring your tongue around the top, swirling his precum over his head while tracing a vein up his shaft with a manicured finger. Your hand bobs up and down his dick as you continue to skillfully twirl your tongue around the tip. His hand clenches tightly as you wrap your pretty lips around the head and hallow out your cheeks to suck.

“Ahhnn,” He hopes you don’t mind his loud, sort of feminine moans. But he still bites his lip to suppress them.

You remove yourself with a pop. Your hand was still gripping around his dick, steadily moving along his rod. Stretching your lips, you wink up at him and he has to do everything in his power not to fall to the ground. He was light headed with lust clouding his vision. The room had gotten dimmer sometime ago, he could only make you out as he did this morning. Your strawberry scent invading his rationality as you sat in front of him. Your honey tone as you repeated his name. The way your red lips curved with every syllable you spoke. Lips you were once again opening as he took your luscious locks in his fingers and directed his dick along your mouth. For a moment he just traced around your lips, glossing them with precum. These lips were his possession along with the rest of you, only he gets to claim them. Then he brought his head back inside your mouth, watching you take all of him in with hooded eyes. Inching his way inside, he saw your jaw go slack and lids flutter the more he forced himself in. You looked so beautiful with tears surrounding your sockets as you struggled to breath when he hit the back of your throat.

“You’re so perfect baby,” Your warm cavern was made for this – for him. Once he feels your throat muscles relax against him, he takes himself out ever so slow, obsessed with how wet his dick became with your saliva. Just to push himself inside again, holding your head down as you struggled. He threw his head back, failing to keep his moans quiet as you gagged around him with your nails pushing at his thighs. Tightening his fingers amongst your hair, he pulled your head back with force before he stuffed you full of himself once again.

He keeps that pace swift and harsh, frustrated at how you were always a few feet from him yet still so far away. This is what he needs, what he craves. His heart beats harder every time he shoves into your wet entrance, watching the way hot tears roll down your cheek but you don’t try to fight off his brutal thrusts. Saliva was sticking at the edge of your lips; your jaw was practically unhinged at his girth and lipstick was smeared all over his dick. You let him use your face like a fuck doll, rolling your eyes into the back of your head as he speeds up with his orgasm approaching.

“You – you’re so beautiful,” He grunts with every thrust “My angel, my doll, my fuck toy. M-Mine. Mine. Mine.”

Words slurred against his mouth as you laid your tongue flat against his shaft, slick dripping of your chin. As his arms fell to his sides, you once again took control of bobbing your mouth and hand against his length. It was really just himself and his own fingers but God he could imagine it so well. He could retrace every part of your body – practically ingrained in his mind from how much time he spent stalking observing you. Hours would go by of him watching you masturbate. Memorizing each facial expression of yours. Thirsting for your heat – this thirst, this is exactly how’d you feel. Jungkook could practically taste it.

He cums with one last push inside your warm mouth and a loud cry of your name.

Opening his eyes, he takes in large breaths gaping at the ceiling of his apartment. Holy fuck, it’d been a while since he came so hard. Chest moving up and down – it takes a moment for him to calm himself. Still high off your pretty face stuffed with his dick. He lays limp in his bed, bringing his hand up to see the insane amount of cum covering his palm. This part always brought him an odd grief. Having to ‘wake up.’ Be alone in his dirty room with your divine company no longer in sight. There was an empty feeling, not just in his balls but in his heart. It was all your fault. Coming near him with those big doe eyes, practically begging him to fuck you on your knees. Yet you wouldn’t let him…not right now. Fuck. Fuck you.

Jungkook knew it wasn’t the right time, that you didn’t know him well enough for him to make a move, but his patience was wearing thin. He had to act fast since he desperately wanted this dream to become a reality.

You were typing away at your keyboard screen, finishing whatever goddamn report of the month. At this point, you were moving in autopilot not even registering any words that were making their way onto the screen. Your back aches as you sigh, you really hated this job. If the pay wasn’t so good, you would’ve quit so long ago. The only good thing about this company was the dental plan really, and the big house you got to afford due to your wages. Co-workers of yours were snarky pieces of shit who excluded you in any activities due to you being the boss’ favorite. Communicating with them was always troublesome, which is why you were here working overtime alone on this 4-person job. At least your co-supervisor was a nice old guy who acted like a gentleman. Really trashy towards his own team though and you were pretty sure he was cheating on his sick wife. When you were almost done with the last paragraph, your phone next to your coffee mug decided to buzz and interrupt the silent, dim office space.

You pick it up reluctantly, already knowing who’d be behind the bright screen. As usual, your misery proves you correct as the name of your arrogant dick for a boss flashes on your phone screen. He was one of those types; the men that feel like they’ve led a hard-working life because they went to a prestigious college without a sport’s scholarship even if they enrolled with their rich parent’s money. Any sort of self-reflection towards their privilege fails to register within them. This man called you for fifty things a day even though he had his own slutty secretary on her knees every time he asked. Maybe you’d feel for the girl if she wasn’t scowling at you whenever you passed by her desk to reach his office. You knew she hated you because he had a thing for you. When he wasn’t calling you in just to subtly check out your ass, he was making passive sexual remarks in completely normal work-related conversations.

It’s not like you didn’t find him attractive. He was tall, dark and you knew he was eating rich with how much time you spent eyeing his muscles. But god was he dumb as fuck. And he didn’t enthuse you any bit, other than maybe imagining him pounding into you from behind with his thick fingers wrapped around your neck. Sexual attraction was normal you suppose – you were two young attractive adults after all. But other than that, you really desired nothing to do with him. Actually, you desired no relationship with anyone at all, for that matter.

Since your last boyfriend’s disappearance three years ago, you recall being too scared to date for a while. Staying at home 24/7 and opting to buy some large dildos in the place of men. But that fear had left you long ago. Slowly, you became someone who just didn’t care in searching for fairytale romance or a passionate night with the love of your life. Instead you just wanted to feel the thrill of being alive, that ecstasy of feeling afraid – waiting for the unknown. You wanted to feel like you did when you saw your dead boyfriend’s horribly mutilated corpse. But that moment had fled too fast and everything around you had become predictable in some gloomy, miserable pattern – with nothing to excite you. Your life had actually become so unbearably boring that you had all the time in the world to accept these insane thoughts into your head, with no one to stop you from so. There was no point in shame any longer, you had your fair share of that when your isolation first started turning you insane.

The more reclusive you stayed, the more apathetic you became.

Sighing, you click on his name to see what he wanted with you at this lovely time of the evening.

‘Had Lana review the documents

She said a page is missing from the last stack

Ask the intern about it’

Of course, he would think Jungkook was an intern. He surely paid him like one. You look up at his empty desk. For once in their despondent lifespan, Team B was allowed to head home on time. Great that meant you’d have to talk to that oddball again in the morning. Lost in thought at your dreadful near future, you get startled as your phone buzzes yet again.

‘More importantly, we’re still up for tmrw night, right?😉’

Staring at the screen with insignificance, you type your reply with bitter fingers.

‘Of course, sir❤’

When you’re about to type him a reply for the ‘intern’ text, a twinkle from across the room catches your eye. You glance back up to see the outline of an unfamiliar object on Jungkook’s desk. Peering into the indistinct space, you desperately tried to make out what was sticking up from his otherwise flat desktop. Oh, right! It hit you then – that was the black bag he carries around daily.

Honestly, you always thought he was weird, and you didn’t pay much attention to Jungkook. Writing him off as another tedious side character that appears in your timeline here and there. The ladies of the office surely seemed to disagree with you, obsessively gushing over his bunny-like features and sturdy physique. Little boys like him didn’t interest you. But you did find yourself studying him sometimes – you’ve always been a curious person – which is why you knew he carried that bag everywhere with him, never letting it out of his sight. Even today, he handed you the pile of papers straight from that satchel. He kept everything in there, how could he forget it here?! Although…he did look out of it the whole day today after your small interaction with him. Maybe he was unwell?

Whatever it was, the situation at hand was more important. If you told your boss Jungkook had left for home, even though he had every right to, he might get fired. That man was impulsive and became furious over the dumbest situations. He once fired an employee that gave 16 years to this company for not ‘ordering the right cupcakes for his favorite client.’ Groaning, you stand up and walk across the office to Jungkook’s desk, your heels clacking amongst the floor. As you thought, it really was his bag that was thrown on his desk.

It wasn’t right to look through his things and you didn’t want to, but you couldn’t have this young man losing his job over something as small as this. Something you can easily fix…hopefully. But why should his status at the company concern you in the least anyway? If he is or isn’t thrown out, it wouldn’t harm your life in at all. Crossing your arms in irritation at the headache starting from the battle of your moral interpretations, you reason that it wouldn’t hurt you to do one kind thing. Perhaps it might land you that promotion you were seeking tomorrow.

You felt bad. Your gut told you something was wrong. What if it’s not in there and you just invade his privacy for no good reason?

With reluctance you grabbed his bag, opening the zipper in slow motion.

Jungkook was peddling as fast as he could. Stupid. Stupid. STUPID. How could he be so stupid. The whole fiasco with you talking to him today and his stupid hormones made him overlook something important. It was ridiculous how he was more concerned in getting home and jerking off to you then paying attention to any of his surroundings. Shit. If only you knew of the power you had over him. He didn’t even remember the dumb item until he was looking for his expensive camera when he recalled leaving it in that bag and leaving said bag back at his desk! Everyone had probably gone home by now, right? He knows some of the janitors steal from the pricks of Team A, but if a whole leather bag is on his desk won’t they at least take a glimpse? SHIT. Jungkook pushes his feet down on the peddles with great force, practically flying towards the workplace like a car.

There wasn’t any way he could afford for anyone to see what was on that camera.

Barging into the office on two left legs, he wheezes with his palms on his knees as he surveils the area around him. Most of the lights are off and the room is empty of life or noise. In a hurry, he had run into some of the caretakers downstairs and they told him they didn’t start on his floor yet. Out of habit, he glances at your desk, to find you staring at him with wide eyes. He straightens himself immediately, closing his mouth along with the racket of his breaths.

Why were you still here?

You had your hands hovering the keyboard and a fresh batch of coffee stood next to you. Were you supposed to be working overtime today? He thought it was tomorrow because he memorized your schedule for this month last week. Did your plans change without him knowing?

As he continues to leer at you, you clear your throat which makes him snap out of his daydream. Carefully, he turns away from you walking towards his desk. The bag is still right where he left it. He knows he can just grab it and go, but the fact that you’re here with him…alone of all things. How good could today get? Fuck, he thought he drained himself enough for today, but his mind was still racing with substantial thoughts. Would it be okay if he talks to you? Maybe he could help you out in whatever you were working on. Before he could get too far and freak you out, he grabs his bag and swings it around his shoulder. Turning around again he takes slow step, trying to seem casual. Was he walking too awkwardly? Did he look good in this hoodie?

When he’s a couple steps from the door, you call out to him.

“Jungkook?”

He faces you with giant deer eyes, “Yes?”

“I received a text from Mr. Kim stating that the last page from the documents you gave me this morning was missing. Do you think you have it in your bag?”

He takes a moment to process what you said, “Yes? Um…Oh right,” He begins digging in his satchel. And there it was, one single page – stuck to the bottom, ripped from the edge where it was originally stapled. The corner of his lip perks up when he finds his camera on top of the document. “Here you go”

Walking over to you, he hands out the paper and you notice it shaking in his fingers.

“Thank you, that’s all.” You say, gently taking the paper from his trembling grasp. Setting it down aside, you pick up your mug to take a sip of your coffee. It was still steaming so you blow on it slightly, puckering your lips. That’s when you notice the shadow in your peripheral vison. You look up to find Jungkook – still as a tree – gawking at you behind an unreadable expression.

“Yes?” You say in a confused tone

“N-no nothing” He stutters, clutching the straps of his bag tightly. “Sorry,” He states, before walking away from you. Turning his head subtly, he gives you one last glance before he heads out the door.

Jungkook was sure he was going to pop open his knuckles as his characters dies once again. He had been gaming for what – two hours straight? His room was lit with only his PC’s screens, and he’s sure his eyes would drop out of his sockets if he doesn’t close them soon. Also, he’d definitely lose his voice from screaming into his mic so much at the arrogant teenage brat who keeps mocking him. If only this damn kid appeared two days ago. His gameplay sucks because his focus is somewhere else – on someone else. Yesterday’s events had punctured both his mind and balls and he was completely spent. Yet you still continued to linger in his mind, like you had your hand wrapped around his brain.

It was destiny, Jungkook believes. It was a sign; the stars are telling him to make his move. Finally, after three years all he needed was some form of answer to his craving for you and he knows he’s received it as of yesterday. He was planning on talking to you by the end of the week, maybe asking you out to coffee like normal people do. There was always that fear of you saying no, but not after last night. Jungkook acknowledges he’s handsome, knows how people view him both in the office and out on the streets. Unlike some of the virgins on his server, he’s had his fair share of pussy before.

There were tons of different types he encountered. A few girls that were looking for a handsome fling. Others wanting arm candy. The most annoying girls repeatedly tried to find a way to get beneath the sexual layer – thinking themselves to be saviors or that he’s some poor lost ‘badboy’ who needs saving – clinging onto him with their delusional fantasies. They were always the hardest to shake off. His favorite type were the girls who understood that they have no meaning to him, they just wanted to get spit on and choked during intercourse. This was all way before he met you, of course. Before he pledged his faithfulness to his and your relationship. Nevertheless, he does know how to get into a woman’s pants.

He wants more with you, however. He wants to hold your hand whenever he feels like it and laugh with you at the cheesy dramas you watch and come home to you when the dark thoughts in his head overwhelm him and his loneliness eats away his soul. Jungkook’s never understood what love is or why people put themselves through pain for something as silly as that, at least not until he met you. What he feels for you, its love isn’t it? It consumes him entirely and he numbs the ache of not having you by watching over you compulsively. By memorizing your habits, by making you as alone as he is. Funny…he thinks he’s become like those girls he hated. A more excessive version, perhaps.

Jungkook growls as he dies yet again and closes off his sever. Today was just not his day. He discards his headset and grabs his unfinished ramen cup, practically shoving the last of its contents into his mouth in one large take. Throwing it to the side, he grabs his energy drink and downs it in one go while he’s still chewing to help swallow without difficulty. Stretching his shoulders, he huffs, looking at the time on his screen. You were probably making dinner right now. Maybe watching a horror movie or finishing your novel. What if you were in that mood tonight, the one that made you rip off all your clothes and seize whatever sex toy you touched first in your drawer. He loved your dildos the most, he was always amazed at how they stretched out your cunt so nice and tight. Exactly like he wants to. Sometimes he’d break into your house just to lick them clean.

Shuddering from his thoughts, he opens his folder where he stores the camera records. His favorite part of watching you was the anticipation. He clicks the kitchen cam to find it empty. Okay, so you weren’t cooking. He goes on to click the living room cam. Also empty. In excitement, he clicks the bedroom cam…to find it blank? The screen was black, and it darkened his entire room. There was no sound or even static from the tape. Great…it’s probably broken.

He sighs, staring at the monitor in scrutiny. There were other times when his spycam’s malfunctioned or broke down over the past three years and it was always such a hassle. Barely managing to excuse himself from work to sneak into your house when you’re not around, finding the spycam (and maybe taking a trinket of yours), getting back home to diagnose it. And either spending hours fixing it or spending money replacing it. Then sneaking back in and placing it back up. Always took a lot of work and interesting fact he discovered – acting like a thief was sort of dangerous! Who would’ve thought? His ‘all black ensemble all the time’ hadn’t helped either. Your neighbor almost caught him last time.

Today was really not his day, but the important thing was to see what you were doing. He glances at his camera on the side of the desk. Would you have your window open tonight? Well…there was only one way to know for sure. He gets up from his chair, pausing a bit as his vision blacks out for a moment. When it returns, he grabs his camera and stuffs it in his satchel. Then he slips out of his sweats to pull up his jeans and has to sit on the bed to wear his heavy easy climb shoes. Once he picks up his keys, he’s out the door into the cool summer night.

The bike to your place was easy, the wind blew through his hair like a lullaby. His hair was getting quite long, most of it reaching halfway to his ears. He was going to cut it, but he saw you eyeing him last week. There was no way he was letting scissors come near him now, not with the way your gaze glossed over his strands.

He finally reaches the usual alleyway and locks his bike by a drain pipe, making sure to secure it tightly. The reason why he parked it here was so no one takes note of the large blue P5X in the middle of the backroad behind your house as it was too heavy to carry over your fence. Besides, he’d trust the abandoned alleyway any day over the quite suburban neighborhoods. If movies have taught him anything, it’s that the nice-looking places are always the deadliest. That’s another reason he’s installed cameras around your house; for your own safety.

Jungkook spots your place after a short walk, turning his slow steps into a quick jog. As he comes near, he notices the light of your bedroom window beaming into the road, and he quietly cheers. Your window was open – he finally gets to see your pretty face. When he was in front of your house, he hops the familiar fence into your slightly unkept backyard. Once he moves in with you, the first thing he’s going to do is mow the fucking lawn. He walks up to the willow tree standing sturdy by your window, waiting on him to climb on. He loved this fucking tree, it was truly a pure and majestic plant.

As usual, he grabs onto a firm piece of bark and he uses his shoe to push himself up. He repeats this process until he’s safely tucked into the branches of the large tree. As usual, the leaves were blocking his way, and also protecting him from getting caught. Using the leaves as a cover, he gets himself ready by pulling out his camera and perching himself on his stomach. And as usual he moved towards the light behind the leaves.

As usual. Everything was supposed to be as fucking usual. But today was not his fucking day, was it?

When he finally gets a view behind the leaves using the lens of his camera, he almost drops out the tree all together. He let’s out a loud involuntary gasp. His throat constricts and his eyes widen at the sight he’s met with.

He first saw your eyes, your beautiful shapely eyes clenched together in ecstasy. Then he saw your arms. Your healthy, silky arms grasping onto someone’s broad back. And then your legs. Your sexy, glowing skin folded on someone’s hips. Hips that should’ve been his. He moves his camera out of his sight, taking your position in with his own two eyes. There you were, with your jaw hanging open and your body blocked out by someone else’s, a body you were urgently clinging onto. From then on started the moans. He hadn’t registered them before until just now, his brain connecting the movement of your mouth to the soft moans just now reaching his ears. A shaky breath leaves him.

“Uhh – ahh-” You were getting fucked, up against your wall.

“There,” You were mewling for the man pounding your smaller frame

“Faster!” A sob leaves his throat, his pants tightening at the scene. No, he didn’t want to get hard at this, not when his heart was shattering into a million pieces. But his body refused to listen to him as his dick started leaking precum

There was slight sweat on your forehead, your eyebrows were furrowed, and your now open eyes were glazed with desire. The muscles of the stranger tense as he holds you, hard ridges producing beads of perspiration – both yours and his – leaving no distance between your entangled limbs. He doesn’t know what to feel, just that his body hurts a lot all of a sudden. He accidently presses the camera shutter, not noticing it taking one pick after the other of the dreadful scene in front of him. Suddenly you make eye contact with him and his whole figure freezes.

You were looking. Fuck. You were staring straight at him, he knows you could tell he was here. He should get the fuck out of here – leave this place immediately but he’s frozen. The pounding of his heart intensifies when you smile.

You were…smiling? You were staring straight at him and…smiling? What the fuck was going on? A chill ran down his spine.

While making direct eye contact with him, you smirk, bringing your hand up to grab your boss’ locks. “Right there, baby,” You groan, throwing your head back but still staring out that window. “Ahh-You do it so well, better than mm- anyone.”

Jungkook was crying. He felt the tears leaves his sockets one by one. It was those days again – the ones three years ago. When you would break his heart daily by casually dating or flirting. When he had to put together that revolting tape of you and your now ex. Nausea crept his insides, his arms felt limp. Only the shadows know how he survived that time period. And it was supposed to be gone, that retched habit of yours. You were only his now. Yet here you were, with that evil glint in your menacing stare, mocking him with every breath that left your lungs.

When the bastard moves his head to the side to nose your neck, is when Jungkook catches a glimpse of the man who tore you away from him. It was him…your boss. Jungkook’s breathing becomes heavy.

You were doing this on purpose. You were torturing Jungkook on purpose. But WHY?! Why would you do that to him? Are you punishing him? It’s not something he knows for certain, but he does know this man had corrupted you. He took you away from Jungkook. He made you become this cruel. And Jungkook doesn’t share what’s his, ever.

It was that sudden thought just then, that blackened his pupils and clenched his teeth. The tears became hot, leaving a fire in their trail and burning the skin of his cheek. He no longer cried out of utter devastation, but a new emotion fueled him – bought back the energy that drives him to pursue you. Anger. Red, hot, scorching anger.

“I’m gonna cum”

He can no longer digest the scene. His stomach churned at the sight and he forced himself away, jumping out of the tree and falling feet-first into the lawn. As he straightened up, the ache got worse, his head felt like it would explode any second. So, he leaned on the bark, trying to keep cool. It didn’t work though as his mouth dropped open and he threw up all over the roots of the plant. His throat constricted and he struggled to breathe, eyes wide at the misery at hand. When he was done vomiting his guts, he took a step back and observed the sight in coughs he tried to keep silent. Pieces of food had mushed together and dyed into a green unidentifiable gunk by his energy drink, drenching the roots and grass surronding of the tree. He felt so sick, eyes hazy and the gross stench filling his nostrils. As soon as his conscious cleared a bit, he ran away from the scene of the crime.

Jungkook ran from the tree. From your yard. From the long backroad. All the way back to that silent alley way, not once looking back.

He was out of breath once he found his bike. Too exhausted to drive for now, he rested his arms on the wall. That’s when he noticed some of the contents from his earlier actions got on his pants and he wiped away at them furiously, grunting loudly. His grunts soon became whimpers and his eyes blurred once again as he let out a loud wail. Why would you do this to him? Why? He did everything for you, just to be with you…so WHY?

His body is shaking as he hangs onto the wall, trying to wipe tonight from his mind. The longer he thinks about, the crazier he becomes. Images continue to plague his mind and he shouts curses into the wall as his crotch continues to ache.

Why was he hard at a time like this? What the actual fuck was wrong with him?

No longer having the energy to care, with one last curse he unbuckles his jeans and pulls out his raging dick. Immediately he starts stroking his shaft strong and fast, and he uses the last of his adrenaline to fuel his pace.

He can see it still, your naked form. The gorgeous expanse of your skin and your legs spread apart. Except this time, you’re bent over your bed with your ass on display for him. Only for him. Your hands are tied behind your back but you’re not struggling. Yet.

Grunting, he jerks himself off as he imagines raising his hand up – then landing it straight on your soft ass cheek. You cry out as you shift away from him only to have him hold you down with his other arm. The skin around your butt becomes a rosy color, his hand print appearing in the aftermath. Immediately his pupils blow out, breath coming in hefty takes as he one again raises his hand towards your other cheek.

“How *smack* dare *smack * you *smack*” He grits out the last word so hard that he accidently bites his tongue. The taste of iron swirled in his mouth. Your cries were muffled against the bed your face was stuffed in and it makes his heart ache. This isn’t what he wanted, he only wanted to make sweet love to you. Give you everything you asked for. But he was weak and inept…underprivileged and a good-for-nothing. His insecurities held him back for three fucking years, but he was trying. Groveling away in the only company that would hire him. Letting himself be belittled, ridiculed, endlessly worked…all for you. He was trying really hard. Hiccupping as tears fall down his face, he rubs against your bottom to sooth you, not taking his eyes off of your cunt.

In exchange, that man embodied everything he wasn’t. Money. Status. Power. He could provide for you – he could give you anything you wanted and maybe that’s why he got to touch you. Jungkook recoils, recollecting what a dumbass horndog he became just because his fingers brushed yours. How sad was it that after all his efforts, Jungkook was stuck behind his dirty 4 walls masturbating to thoughts of you every night while this man got to live his dream without even half the work? What had he done to deserve you?

Not good enough. Not good enough. You’re not good enough.

“W-Why…did you do that t-to *hiccup* me”

“Why, when I love you so much?” When he recalls what you did, all the anger comes back. Red paints his vision as he once again spanks you like crazy, not caring about your screams this time. With how you angled your ass, you were practically urging him to continue. Heat radiates from you and his palm, his mind traveling a mile a minute. He brings his thigh up to your core, enjoying the way you instantly soak through his jeans while whining at the stimulation. Not just your suffering but even your face wasn’t correctly recreating in his perception, because to him this wasn’t about you. It was about your lack of fucking respect for him. Right now, only his pleasure mattered to his brain.

Pausing his merciless attack, he enjoys the view of your dripping cunt. Once again mindlessly rubbing at your bottom. Grabbing your sore ass cheek with one hand, he positions his dick at your entrance with his other. He groans as he sinks into you, stretching your insides apart. Fuck, if it felt this good in his own mind then he can’t even fathom how it would feel in reality. As he settles all the way inside, he doesn’t wait for you to relax around him. No, he wouldn’t wait for you.

Instead he pulls out and slams against you balls deep with one swift thrust. His moans sound out in sync with your cries – pleading for his forgiveness.

Before he could help it, he cums right then – abruptly, unfinished and the fury still alive in his bones. Inhumane growls come from him as he’s faced with the red brick wall that he coats with hot white strings of his semen. Bumping his forehead onto that wall, he slows his breathing, watching as the white streaks drip down the uneven ridges of the bricks. Reality kicks in. This is how it would be every time, wouldn’t it? He wouldn’t get to be inside you, he wouldn’t get to taste you, and he would spend away his days ejaculating prematurely like a fucking child.

Unless he did something about this.

Something he hasn’t done in a while.

As the young man continues to stand alone in that alleyway, an idea forms in his head. Since you were staring at him in such a sinister way – no surprise or fright in your face – you know exactly what he was doing and probably who he was. For the first moment that night, he flashes his pearly whites. Looks like it was finally time for you both to officially meet.

The man paced as fast as his heavy legs could take him, trying his best to seem confident and not an object of suspicion. Sweat was building in his temple and he could feel it. In that moment, all of his senses were at their peak and he’d probably be able to feel the flutter of a fly’s wings or a mole beneath his feet. As he wasn’t the most athletic, he was already out of breath from the steps he had taken, but he clamped his mouth shut. His eyes wandered around everywhere, staying no place more than a few seconds.

When he opens the doors of the building, he’s greeted with another presence.

“Good evening Mr. Jang.” A young janitor, probably his son’s age tells him. It has an unsettling effect on him – one where his eyes widen, and eyebrows raise. He responds with a forced smile, teeth clamoring faintly, as he continues to walk on by.

“Yes, good evening.” The worker’s pupils follow the blue suited man all the way to the elevator, where they are involuntary required to make eye contact again as he waits for his lift to arrive. Another forced smile from his side.

The elevator doors open quickly to Jang’s relief, and he gets inside. He hits the top floor immediately and looks towards his shoes. For a few seconds he just blinks, trying to see if this was some hellish nightmare he was stuck inside. If he could somehow wake up to a better reality. With her lying next to him.

The lift reaches the top floor and lets him out, he quietly walks into the windy night enclosed by the vacant terrace. There he pauses, running a palm on his bare head a few times to ease his discomfort. She did that for him too, it always calmed him down.

His phone rings. Again.

“Y…Hello…yes I’m at the rooftop. Yes, I’m alone.”

The aging man shifts on his legs as the distorted voice replies to him. It was that contrast of the unusually deep baritone in one ear and noiseless summer night in his other that ran a chill up his spine.

“I’ll do it…but please can I ask wh- no! NO! I’m sorry! I won’t do it again. I’ll do what you asked!”

“Just please,” He begs, bringing his hands up in the darkness to his head, “Don’t send those photographs to my wife…”

He sniffles bitter and exhausted, as the call ends and he’s once again completely alone. Eyeing his phone, he stands there for a bit just exhaling through his nose. The calm before the storm let’s say. Never in his life has he considered himself a kind man, he always took what he wanted from who he wanted as much as life allowed him to. His wife was just some rich whore he managed to impregnate in the 80’s, he didn’t mean to make a life with her. He also didn’t mean to just watch as life left her. But he can’t change what happened; he can’t change that they have a son who rarely speaks to them, he can’t change that he found another woman – much younger, much tighter. And he can’t change taking a generous life insurance policy out on her ill body. Divorce isn’t something he could afford, not when he’s this close.

Instead was he a murderer? No, he couldn’t cause someone’s death even if he was hoping for another’s. So that has to account for something, right? It was the least he earned to be able to love himself…didn’t he? With a deep sigh and a muffled sob, he clicks on his boss’s name and waits as his phone starts ringing, holding it next to his ear.

“Hello?”

He did it…he called him. Now he should start talking but no – the words won’t come out. Should he tell him the truth? Should he stick to the script? All he could do was stand there with his mouth catching flies as the other line repeats his greetings.

“Hello? Jang, what the fuck? I know it’s you. What the fuck do you want at this time of night?”

Compared to the other call, this man’s voice was louder, and he hated it twice as much. Perhaps this was destiny, a twisted fate of all the choices he’s made in the past couple of years. Kim had always been a brat, the reason Jang dreaded going into the office he should’ve originally been in charge of. The brat didn’t have half the qualifications he did, nor did he have half the rights to speak to him in such a belittling manner. Nonetheless, luck only delivers to the wealthy or sons of the arrogantly blessed. Seniority holds no place in competition to those privileged enough to win. Perhaps this was karma, another card of destiny – taking back what was unfairly given.

He failed to register the threat looming right behind him, caught up in his pleasing daydream of a payback. His own karma watching him with hawk eyes.

If this is destiny…then he doesn’t have to feel bad about this, does he? It was always meant to happen, and he was just doing what the cards told him. He was just a messenger delivering a message.

And so, with a large gulp, deliver he did.

Kim parked his Benz at the back. He parked near the trees, their cover setting an ease inside his otherwise chaotic mind. The last thing he expected tonight was a call from that musty old man. Fucking Jang, he wonders why he hasn’t fired him yet. It was you who did most of his work anyway, while he was out fucking some chick from their red-light district bar. If only that bastard wasn’t also involved in his side business.

Getting out of his car, he takes fast strides to the structure in front of him. All of this was getting out of hand.

“There’s a mole…We should meet”

Kim wasn’t gonna lie, he was shitting himself the whole ride to the warehouse. Contrary to what people think, Kim considered himself a sharp man. He knew that none of his crap was really his, that his alcoholic father could take everything away in a matter of moments if he pissed him off enough. That man spent his youthful years beating the ‘sissy’ out of him and now uses his older age to sass the failing status of his business. It was such a curse representing that man’s last name. Such a tragedy that he was born into the mud pile he called a family. Maybe that’s why he took refuge behind illegal activities, turned his once average company to an underground drug laundering agency. That way he could earn his own money, untainted by his elegant family’s legacy. He craved that independence.

Everything was better than it seemed anyway. They weren’t distributors nor were they providers, they were just middle men. People who safely hid the drugs given to them by providers and taken away from them by distributors. Meaning he’d get the same amount of punishment despite having the least amount of profits. Apparently, young rich boys mean nothing to mafia heads or underground gangsters. Nothing more than disposable aid like he considered others. Tsk. Fuck all this shit.

What he needed to do was find this ‘mole’ Jang mentioned and eliminate him fast. There wasn’t any blood on his hands minus multiple teenaged addict’s untimely death, but he didn’t consider that his fault. However, this time he’d make sure to kill this son of a bitch – whoever he was – himself. The thought of finally having power over some plebian pleading soul right before he rips the life from their eyes gave him an adrenaline rush. Finally, he wouldn’t just be a monster because of who his father was, but because he could get shit done.

He grunts when he makes it to the warehouse doors, opening them with more force than he meant to. Once he steps inside, he notices that It’s too dark to see.

“Jang? Where the fuck are you?” Kim shouts into the shadows

…

Nothing but silence in return. He feels uneasy…like there was something terribly wrong with this place.

“Fuck,” He mutters, pulling out his phone to call the old man. His shoulders were tense, and his eyes roamed about. The alcohol in his system heightened his nervousness, made everything sort of unfocused even in the dark. With one call, he charged into battle without thinking, eager to blow someone’s head off tonight”

Ring Ring

Everything went in slow motion as he spotted a light coming from a few feet away. It looked like a phone. Kim gulped before he walked towards it. Praying that it wasn’t what he was thinking.

As he came by it, he began to tremble. His name was displayed on the small screen. It was cracked from an end and…there was something red on the front edge. What the fuck.

Snap

In an instant he turns around, the ringing still haunting his ear. He definitely heard something…or someone?

“W-who’s there?!” He tries to shout but his voice fails him as he squeaks. The realization that he’s not alone frightens him. All the vigor from before leaves his build and he becomes a small boy once again. The shadows symbolizing his father, the small noises sounding like the leather belt that bruised him continuously.

“W-what do you want?”

“Weak,” he hears his father’s voice sneering, “You gonna grovel like a f*g? You sissy.”

Anger swells inside his chest, his teeth clenching in pure hate. “I won’t grovel you motherfucker, come out this instant!” He roars before taking out his gun and shooting a few rounds at random. Still, no reply. Kim heaves in the darkness for a few seconds, placing his gun in multiple directions, trying to make out the cunt playing with him.

That when he notices Jang’s phone. It’s gone. Did someone take it? When? As he’s busy staring at the ground where it once laid, he doesn’t hear the steps of the shoes behind him.

*Crack*

He falls to the floor with a thud as something heavy hits the back of his head. The gun slips away from reach, further into the darkness. Screaming he clutches the gushing wound on his head, blood immediately making its way from the blow in his cranium. He tries to push himself up with one arm, falling back down miserably. That attempt lands him a hit on the back of his thigh as he wails. His vision blurs and he wheezes in pain, completely immobile in a growing pool of his own blood.

His father laughs at him, the leather belt in his hand crackling with pride. Turning himself around, he brings a weak arm up, pleading with the silhouette of what he thinks is a man. “P-please, I’ll give you whatever you want.”

The man scoffs, reaching behind him to pull out a tiny object. He flicks it a few times to reveal a lighter. As the fire brightens everything around him, he notices a bat in the man’s other arm. A very bloody bat. Slowly, he brings the lighter up to his face and Kim’s eyes go wide with the last bit of his strength.

“Y-you’re that i-intern-

“Name’s Jungkook.” The man interjected before bringing the bat up and smashing it into his face.

In a moment, the last thing Kim saw were spotted stars in his eyes before he felt the awful pop of his nose breaking and eventually lost conscious.

You were painting your nails. Scratch that, you were attempting to paint your nails. Bending your body in half and sticking out your tongue in concentration, you groan when that bombs, and you make yet another mistake. This shit was impossible.

After a long week of complete exhaustion, you were happy to be home on your couch with a pizza box on your left and a glass of wine on your right. Sitting there and swirling the brush inside your nail polish container you hummed along to the tune of the newest pop song stuck in your head. It was a nice night, compared to the heat wave your city had been experiencing for the past month. So, you decided to leave the windows open and let some breeze in. Soon you were thinking about watching a thriller on Netflix.

You sighed, this is always how your days passed no matter what type of weather was out there. Alone – in your way too large to live alone in house. Since your bitch of a best friend left you, she decided to take all your other friends with her. Online harassment from her minions got so bad you had to delete all your social medias. Family was no good either. Your parents were the most annoying creatures on the planet, refusing to let you in that one time you flew home to see them for the holidays. Whatever, it didn’t matter – you fucking hated everyone anyway. Fuck Melissa, fuck Dad, fuck David, fuck Uncle Ben.

There were sometimes though, where you would make a stupid penis joke towards an actor on screen and wished Melissa was around to laugh in that obnoxious way she often would. Or that your Dad would still call you for his check ins with one of his million pet names. You wished David was still around to see if your company really made you supervisor, he owed you like $40 bucks from the bed. And other times you wished Uncle Ben still brought you those expensive gifts from his crazy trips.

But whatever…like you said. Fuck everyone.

You’re startled when the doorbell chimes, almost bumping your acetone all over the place. In confusion you look over to your clock hanging above the dining room wall. It was almost midnight. Who could it be at this hour?

You jump again when the doorbell rings for a second time. Whoever it was sure was impatient. Moving your pedicure items to the side, you stand up in annoyance, making your way over to the door. Quietly you peek into the peephole, hoping to see a familiar face. Oddly, no one seems to be outside. Yet the bell chimes again.

With great hesitance you pull the door open, only slightly.

The sight you’re met with leaves your jaw hanging open. On the other side of the door – right in front of you, stood Jeon Jungkook. Not a trace of emotion on his face as he glared at you and pushed the door open the rest of the way. You back up slightly. He was holding a bat covered in blood and dirt, red and black stains surrounded the smooth skin of his face. The stench of iron and gasoline makes you scrunch your nose, and you put a palm over it in disgust.

Jungkook stands there, staring at you. You wore a white silk kimono, one side of it delicately hanging on your arm and exposing your bare shoulder. Smitten by just the sight of you, he breaths in your strawberry musk – mixed with acetone for some reason. When he steps inside you let out a tiny gasp. Raising an eyebrow, he continues to watch you. He prepared a whole speech about how you’re his and he was here to punish you accordingly tonight but as soon as your glassy orbs met his, he lost all train of thought. Funny, he was tearing limbs and breaking bones a couple of minutes ago and now he feels like he can’t even advance his hand to touch you.

When you continue to look at him with such distaste, he expected you to scream, to cry, to run. He was expecting you to act like his prey usually does.

He was not expecting you to smile.

“What did you do?” You ask him in the biggest smile he’s ever seen you in.

It feels like the breath has been knocked out of him. You step closer to him, tilting your head to hear his answer but he’s struggling to form words. Fluttering your lashes, you patiently wait for him to talk.

“I…I-I killed him.”

“Killed who?” You ask without missing a beat. It seems like you’ve realized though as your mouth forms an O and you let out a laugh, “Wait, Mr. Kim? You really killed Kim?”

Jungkook nods as his heart starts beating faster. He’s not used to you being so close and acknowledging him. “And Jang”

“Whoooaaa, and Jang?” You jump up in enthusiasm, surprising poor Jungkook.

“Y-you don’t care?” He asks in a tiny voice

You give him a weird face, “Care? Why would I?”

When he gives you the most clueless face in return, you sigh – crossing your arms. He sure was naïve.

“I found your camera,” You begin, looking up to witness his shocked reaction. He looks like he wanted to say something, but you hold up a finger to stop him, “Well, actually I found all your cameras. The first one being the one with all those creepy pictures of me.”

“At first, I was shocked, and a little upset. Then I became scared. And then I realized…that I was actually scared” You stare at him with wide, insane eyes and he wonders why he’s never witnessed this side of you. It was kinda turning him on. “I was scared…holy shit I was scared of you and it was the best thing ever. Then I wondered if you had any other cameras…and I was right.”

Lifting your head to the left corner of the living room, you point at the spot. “I found the first one there, and the second one in the kitchen and then in the bathroom and so on.” Suddenly your face becomes solemn and you give him a scowl that makes him deflate like a small animal.

“Then I thought…Wow! so much interesting shit is happening in my life – in my own home and I had no fucking idea? Why? Because my stalker happened to be a bitchass coward who couldn’t make a move?”

He winces when you berate him, his head dropping and tears forming in his eyes. There was so much he wanted to tell you, but a headache was forming in his brain from all the gasoline he had inhaled. You place your hand under his jaw, gently bringing his face up to yours again, “That’s why I decided to lure you out myself. I took off the spycam in my room and decided to fuck my boss, hoping you’d come see and do something. Knew you would perch on my willow tree seeing how the photos in your camera were angled…Which by the way is a fucking mess! Clean up the nasty chaos you made on my precious tree tonight!”

Jungkook nods firmly, still processing what you said.

“S-so wait…wait then Kim was jus-”

“Yeah, Kim was just a pawn. He’s practically been begging to fuck me for years anyway, and I was gonna do it for that promotion he offered me. But this is better. Also, Jang touched my ass way too much on ‘accident.’ I didn’t want them to die, but I don’t exactly care either.”

Jungkook smiles shyly. The fact that used Kim to get to him. You didn’t care about Kim’s money or his power. He got insecure for no reason. And you had just asked him to stay by telling him to clean up his mess! If he’s right in guessing your intentions, then he feels that he’s going to burst out crying. Although he’ll still punish you for fucking him. That agony he felt was still deep inside his gut and he hadn’t been able to cum for two days, plotting this elaborate scheme of murder. With everything you were telling him, he didn’t think you’d mind much.

You’ve accepted him, after all. He’s enough for you.

You’re enough.

“Tell me what you did to them.”

“I beat them to a bloody pulp.” Jungkook says monotonously. It’s the first sentence he states without stuttering. “Attacked them both from behind with a single blow and cracked their skulls. Continued to beat the shit out of them then dropped Jang’s body to an alleyway. Broke both of his arms. Dragged him to an empty warehouse known for drug transactions where I fucked up Kim. Smashed his face in, his eyeball was hanging out by the end of it…it wasn’t very attractive. Then I threw gasoline all over the place and burned it to a crisp. Firefighters and Media’s probably there by now”

“Holy shit…that’s…fucking crazy,” You eye the bat. “What if you get caught”

“I won’t…they’ll say it was a rival drug gang. Left a few traces of underground trash” He answers as you lift your brows. There was a lot you didn’t know about him, especially the three years prior to him getting that job in your office. You wouldn’t know of the life he had before he laid his eyes on you, the co-worker with the beautiful smile showing him around his new workplace. He wasn’t interested in returning to a time before you became his purpose for existing, but he was smarter than he looks.

There was a lot he understood.

Jungkook frowns at the floor before making eye contact with you, “Do you…hate me?”

“…Your weird ass excites me Jungkook. I think I fucking love you.” Meh, honestly you weren’t really in love with him. But it wouldn’t hurt to say it cause you knew as long as Jungkook stayed this psychotic, he’s the only man you would come close to loving. You hadn’t ever been in love before, but you were willing to ty it out.

At your confession Jungkook shows you his bunny teeth and his eyes crinkle. It meant so much to him, you wouldn’t even be able to comprehend. These three years have gone very differently for both of you, after all. While you were out there losing people from your life and wasting your existence away, Jungkook was falling in love with you deeper and deeper each moment he spent watching you. To the point of complete, irreversible fixation. A loud bell rings inside his head and he chokes up.

“I love you, too.”

You grab his cheeks, lurching forward to kiss him and it only takes a second for him to reciprocate.

It was a sloppy, hungry kiss. Your tongues swirls around his and your teeth bump into each other. You lick the sides of his mouth, tasting someone else’s blood and the residue of fire. It makes you moan into him. With that the beast awakens, dropping the damn bat out of his hands and grabbing your ass instead, pulling you close to him. His wet muscle dominates yours easily, your legs giving out slightly and he rushes to hold you up by your thighs. Ever slip of his tongue has you clenching your core in excitement. Lewd noises fill your doorway as you hang onto his sturdy frame and he pushes harder and harder against you. He bites your lip and you whine, feeling him smile into your mouth. When you felt like you could no longer breathe, you pull back to stare at his blown-out pupils with lust fogging your mind.

Out of breath, he whimpers as you rub against his hard on. He was sexy as fuck with his lips swollen and glossy with your spit, pupils dilated, his jaw ajar and lurid sighs leaving him. Jungkook held onto you for dear life while waiting for your next move, you felt his thick fingers digging into your thighs. You smile at him with heavy lids, running a hand through his wild strands. Cautiously, he places his face into your exposed shoulder and inhales your scent. Shivering at the sensation, you groan as he starts biting at your neck aggressively, as if trying to make a statement. You coo at him, trying to calm him down by patting his head, and you wonder if it worked once he slows down and you feel tears amongst your bitten hickeys.

That’s what excited you the most about Jungkook. There was no certainty about him, you couldn’t predict him at all. Some part of you thought he would come to kill you instead of Kim or Jang and the rush you felt seeing him in your entrance drenched in blood almost gave you a standing orgasm. Right now, you have no fucking idea why he’s sobbing into your shoulder while dry humping you with such eagerness…was he happy? Was he mad? Was he sad? You couldn’t tell that Jungkook was absolutely enthralled to finally have you in his arms – touch you all he wanted – and he did have a very rough and bloody week. He was emotionally drained. What you did know, however, was that you haven’t felt this much thrill for a long, long time. And the root cause of it was this man baby in your arms, covering you with gore and ash.

What a weird guy.

You weren’t sure where this was headed, all you knew was that Jungkook would be pounding inside of you on your bed in a couple of moments. Without changing of course because the guts spilled across his shirt was making you drip down your thighs. Wrapping your arms against the crying bunny rabbit, you speculated if there was another extravagant plot you could cook up to get him to kill someone – this time right in front of you. After all, it was as if you were Frankenstein and he was your monster with rabbit features and brawny arms. The thought makes you chuckle before you notice how he’s began hiccuping and repeating his love for you on your skin. Sighing, you whisper in his ear to simmer down. It was getting difficult to breath with how he was smothering you. Oh well.

Looks like your night just got interesting.

#Jeon Jungkook #Bts #Jungkook smut #Jungkook angst #Yandere Jungkook #Bts smut #Bts angst #Yandere bts #R:BC

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scriptaed · 4 years

Text

his side, her side | 5:00 p.m.

genre: angst/fluff/implied smut; (bold = genre for this particular drabble)

pairing: reader x jungkook;

length: 2.5k;

synopsis: a collective snapshots in time shared between two, whose fates were undeniably intertwined and futures would never come to be.

a/n: this is not a chronological series; more so, his side her side is a collection of drabbles in which each drabble helps paint the overall picture. each drabble can be read separately without having read the others. // alternatively: his side, her side pt. 2;

her side;

Music—it’s a magical force lying somewhere between evil and good. The closest form to humanity’s long-sought time machine, it merely takes a simple sequence of three notes for the winds to blow, for the skies to set and the clock to rewind, until you find yourself warped in a fragment in time unreachable by all else means.

Truly, it’s an otherworldly craft, one that comes and goes, not on a quest to fulfill a beckoning, but rather, on a quest of its own whimsical accord. In forethought, you were thankful for such an uncontrollable phenomenon that could defy even the grasp of time; but it doesn’t take you more than three ephemeral months of infatuation for you to look back in horrifying awe at the way something so hauntingly beautiful could revive even the faintest of memories you had once misperceived as long buried in time.

And the secret to such a double-edged sorcery?

Willingly or reluctantly, you would soon find out.

<<now playing: i like me better - lauv>>

It all started on that treacherous night midway somewhere between the breezy fall and the frostbitten winter, when the sun prepares for an early slumber and the skies drape a blanket of impending starry darkness, that your fickle heart embarks on a trek of no return. Temperate leaves color the brick road a spectrum between red and orange. Its crunches under your boots accompany the bass of an upbeat track you’ve been blasting throughout summer ‘til now. With a dipped head and a pair of hands buried into the depths of your pockets, the world is made aware of your one-way-ticket to hell—or, in other words, work.

5:00 P.M.

Whew, just on time.

A sigh escapes your lips in a puff just as the wind’s chill on the upper half of your face barren of a scarf dissipates under the hands of your company’s heater. Eyes like darts and lips grumbling incomprehensible curses, it’s apparent to both you and your chattering colleagues that this is the last place you would like to spend a Tuesday night. You scan through the meeting room cluttered by numerous two-seat desks and make your way to the corner of the room where no one could bother your already ruined evening.

Sure, it’s extra pay, but who holds project meetings at 2 P.M. and 5 P.M. in the evening? To make it even worse, why did your supervisor have to assign you to the latter, the worst time slot of all?

Pulling out your phone, you scan through your phone to pull up the list of participating colleagues that your supervisor had sent out last week.

One scroll, two scroll, yup, not a single person you know—oh, well, if that isn’t a surprise. His name rings a bell, one that leans closer to good than bad: Jeon Jungkook; because even though it’s been a name you haven’t muttered since exactly one year, where you had beckoned for the reclusive boy to sit next to you and your friend and he had the audacity to refuse, you can sigh in relief because now you have someone else joining you in the aloof club. Other than the first friendly words you had spoken to him at the cafeteria and the once-in-a-blue-moon tips you had given when he sought for your help, you haven’t exactly befriended that man despite the more than coincidental bump-ins throughout the company building.

Wouldn’t it be funny if maybe, just maybe, fate pairs you with him on the basis of feigned happenstance for just one last time?

If there’s one thing you find amusing in this life-draining room, it would be the mugshot of an ID photo displayed next to his name. Lips grim and eyes looking into the camera, his picture must have been an exact mirror of your expression if it weren’t for your chuckles at the moment.

He just doesn’t give a damn, huh?

“Y/N,” your supervisor points at a table in the center of the room, smack in the middle of other encircling tables, “that table’s off limits. Could you move to this table?”

Nodding, although reluctantly so, you pick up your belongings and start your trek to the middle when you lift your head only to spot the very subject of your snickering; because there he is himself, Jeon Jungkook walking into the room, fashionably late as always, and eyes scanning through the filled room. Reaching the desk, you glimpse through your peripheral vision to quickly come to the conclusion that a few chairs remain unoccupied… one of which is right next to yours. It’s unlikely that he would choose to sit next to you, out of all other seats, right? Considering he had so adamantly refused to take your offer for company last year?

But no.

Swiftly but unhurried in that nonchalant, indifferent mien of his, he seats himself right next to you.

“I know there are plenty of other places you would rather spend your evening at, trust me,” your supervisor announces, “but please utilize this time to introduce yourselves to your partner and get working on the project.”

Keep calm, Y/N, you tell yourself as you slowly turn to face your partner, don’t let him figure out that you remember—shit, does he remember rejecting your offer last year? It was supposed to be a friendly gesture and nothing else! He doesn’t think you’re into him, does he?

Jungkook stares at you. Eyes peering down at you, lips too lazy to even put on a friendly mien, and face emanating of giving no fucks, it seems like an eternity has passed as he waits for you to speak first. Or at least it seems like an eternity to you.

Is this really the same guy your friend told you she found cute?!

“...I think I already know your name,” you deadpan, trying to put on an equally apathetic front.

Finally, he smirks—and when he does so, you think something has your heart jolting. What was that? Judging by his ongoing impression, he’s probably just another cocky bastard. Born with the looks but maybe not so much with the smarts, he must be all up in his head. He must think you’re smitten. He probably doesn’t even remember your name—

“—Y/N,” he greets you, cracking a crooked grin.

What was that again?

The next hour passes by in the blink of an eye. Your supervisor proceeds to explain the project albeit poorly so, but all you can remember from that day was you shrinking away at the sight of the boy beside you through the corners of your eye. Having forgotten his existence until now, you haven’t realized just how much has changed between you two. Just a year older and he’s already popped his own bubble, opting for tank tops and gym shorts instead of his conservative hoodies and slim jeans from last year… probably eager to show off those newly built muscles of his. Remarkably, he’s probably also grown taller—because now, he stands a good three or four inches taller than you. A year must do a lot, seeing how he’s changed from the reclusive boy to an equally reclusive man, and you begin to wonder if he’s noticed the changes in you, too.

Focusing on your supervisor’s wrap-up for the day, you don’t notice just how long Jungkook has been staring at you with those unreadable eyes of his; and when you finally do, turning your head and peering up at him with quizzical, wide eyes, he smirks.

“What?” you cinch your brows.

“Nothing,” he insists, despite how much harder he starts snickering.

“What?!” you gawk, mouth agape in full offense but lips curled into a cheeky smile for who knows what.

Do you have something on your face? Does he think you stink? You don’t know why but your face begins burning beet red.

“Nothing!”

He only laughs harder, the corners of his eyes wrinkling and the apples of his cheeks rising along with the wide grin he slacks open—and at that moment, staring at him in a momentary awe you would recall for as far into the future as a distant year, you marvel at the sight before you.

Has he ever smiled this hard before? You’ve never seen him like this, even with the few friends he had. Or is this a sight others have yet to witness?

Nowadays, when your playlist goes on shuffle and you stumble upon that one melancholic winter beat meant for feverish summers, the expired ache in your heart returns with vengeance.

But in that moment, you were hoping for forever and that was your first mistake of many. If the walls of your heart had managed to fend off many others before, then why did you not listen to the sirens in your head at that very moment? After all, you should’ve known that devilish grin of his lethal charms meant he was only on a search for something temporary.

Embarrassed and ashamed, it’s been a year later and you still can’t listen to that particular song without recalling the moment you fell too hard, too fast.

Maybe, just maybe, you once remarked to yourself, Tuesday evenings wouldn’t be so bad after all.

his side;

This is the dumbest shit I’ve ever had to attend, Jungkook mentally curses with the roll of his eyes as he strolls into the building. The sweat he had shed after hitting the gym had long been washed off after a quick shower and the forfeit of the relaxing winter chills in exchange for the company’s heater only ticked him off further. With a water bottle in his hand, he tosses the plastic wrap of his protein bar into the trash. He then draws the door wide open with utter ease in his hands and a one-way-ticket to the playground in his heart.

Great, not only does the supervisor forget to send a list of participants, but now that he’s finally here to see for himself, he scans through the room, there isn’t a single person he recognizes—well, maybe not.

“Y/N,” Jungkook watches as the accursed supervisor points at another desk in the middle of the room, “that table’s off limits. Could you move to this table?”

Why the fuck put a table there if it’s off limits, then?

In the corner of his eye, he notices the girl rise from her seat, although begrudgingly so, before trudging toward the other desk. Meanwhile, Jungkook had just finished his prolonged entrance into the room, skimming through the room with just one thought on his mind: get. me. out. of. here.

Well, there’s really only a few seats left—hell, why is everyone literally an hour early? It’s either he sits at the back of the room, where he could slack off and honestly would have preferred, or he sits at the very front with someone he’s somewhat familiar with.

Does she even remember him?

Jungkook doesn’t really give a damn, for his feet has already begun its trek toward the empty seat beside her. Judging from the few interactions he had with her, she never really seemed to take a liking to him. She was friendly, no doubt, but maybe too friendly. She probably even realized her own unnecessary benevolence, for Jungkook recalls the multitude of times she had purposely ignored his presence ever since that one time he declined the offer to sit beside her in the cafeteria. Now, she probably saw him as the dumb guy at work who asked her too many questions.

Maybe now he’ll finally get a chance to really know her.

The supervisor babbles a bunch of shit, and before he knows it, people are chattering again and Jungkook mentally cursed at himself for zoning out. Turning around, he looks down at the girl beside him. Is it just him or does she not look too pleased? Well, not that he really cares. It’s not like she’s acquainted with him, nor is she obligated to smile.

“...I think I already know your name,” the girl mutters.

Oh, so she does remember, Jungkook can’t help the lopsided grin that escapes onto his lips.

“Y/N,” Jungkook utters simply, returning his attention to the front of the room where the supervisor continues speaking and failing to notice the look on his partner’s face.

The next hour passes by dreadfully slowly. In fact, it takes Jungkook everything not to rest his head on the table and ask Y/N to wake up from his nap once the supervisor was done. Instead, his mind wanders elsewhere…

Why did he sign up for this again? Oh, right, he needed the cash, and this time fits perfectly after his gym sessions.

Why did he choose this seat then? Well, beats him. Something about his constant run-ins with Y/N has even him, the most indifferent of them all, scratching his head. It’s almost as if this is fate’s own way of begging for him to give her a chance.

Does she actually hate him? Still, Jungkook wouldn’t mind either way, although he wouldn’t say he isn’t curious. Considering how she still remembers his name, however, something tells him she doesn’t exactly despise him, and that’s a bit of a relief. Why? Well, no, he doesn’t really care. Really.

She’s changed a bit, Jungkook remarks as he turns to take a look at his partner. He recalls her long locks from orientation as well as the beginning of the year when she had cut them short. Now that another half year has passed, her hair had somehow returned to its original length… or to whatever extent of a difference a boy like Jungkook could notice. She’s gained a bit of weight, or maybe that’s because she’s bundled underneath all her winter layers as compared to the halter romper he had first seen her in at orientation. Either way, she looks… different, perhaps a year more mature. One thing that hasn’t changed though, he observes as he watches her devote every ounce of attention on the rambling supervisor, is her undeniable work ethic…

...maybe that’s why he caught wind of a certain nerd, Taehyung, crushing hard on his infamous partner who had ghosted the poor boy.

And yet, here he is, Jungkook muses with a half-smile, sitting next to that very infamous girl.

Something about that thought gives him power and he can’t quite pinpoint why.

“What?” she says a bit more offended than he would have expected.

“Nothing,” he says truthfully, because to him, there really isn’t anything to say.

What? Is he supposed to apologize for staring?

“What?!” she repeats.

The confusing mix between offence and laughter that plasters across her reddening face only amuses Jungkook further; and at that moment, he figures there’s something oddly satisfying about teasing this girl.

“Nothing!”

The boy doesn’t notice it until he’s already burst into laughter, a full leap beyond his usual chuckles done out of social obligation, but he’s actually laughing. Mouth agape, teeth showing, eyes squinting into crescents, he really doesn’t know what he’s laughing at and he doesn’t really care that others are staring at the two of you.

Hey, maybe gym sessions aren’t the only form of entertainment he’ll be looking forward to on Tuesday nights.

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herpartnerintime · 3 years

Text

I’m so glad I came to Hawkins. It has it’s own unique small town vibe, just like Arcadia. Max thought, as she snapped a picture with her Polaroid camera. Thinking of Arcadia made Max think of Chloe and her heart felt like it had been stabbed and her head hurt almost as bad as it had done during rewinds.

I miss you so much Chloe. Everyday I feel like I made the wrong choice. You gave the choice to me… you gave me permission. But how can I ever feel like I made the right choice? I can’t stop thinking about how I should have chose you, even if it meant the lives of hundreds. In her moments where Max broke down with the pain of losing Chloe, she had tried to rewind, but her powers were gone. They had only existed because of Chloe, been born into existence to save her life. When she’d gone back in time to that moment and been forced to hear her friend die, the girl she had fallen in love with die, it meant her powers had never come to exist.

But still, Max tried every single day to bring about a rewind. I refuse to believe it’s gone.

Chloe had been gone for almost a year now. Almost a year since Max had left Arcadia, because everything and everyone she saw there was a reminder of Chloe’s sacrifice.

She was trying to live her life, like Chloe would have wanted. Chloe had wanted her to live, to take over the world with her photos, to find a new love with a girl – Chloe’s bold pride in a world where people like them weren’t accepted had empowered Max to not be scared of being who she was anymore.

But Max was so broken she didn’t know if she could keep her promises to Chloe.

She walked into the town’s video store that evening. Maybe she needed a good movie to distract her sadness. She stopped at a display of sci-fi movies and took a shot with her camera – she loved the sci-fi display with the Death Star. The photo printed out and Max took it and gave it a little shake and looked at it. Super cool. Warren would have loved it. Warren. Max missed her friend.

She looked up then and noticed a very pretty girl looking at her. And she felt something inside her she had not felt since Chloe.

“I need a good movie. Something to distract me from deep endless sadness. Anything you can recommend me?” Max asked her.

#for robin #wontgodowninhistory #sacrifice chloe choice #max writings #roleplays of time #Finding Happiness

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temilyrights · 4 years

Text

just a kiss

Summary: Jack Sloane x Reader. Kissing the best friend you’ve been pining after forever probably isn’t the best idea you’ve had, but you do it anyway. It’s the alcohol’s fault...

A/N: I totally wrote this isn’t of working on TCOU. oof. Started this like 2 months ago then proceeded to delete half of it and rewrite it. I think it works? Light angst, fluff and hurt/comfort. As always, feedback is welcome and appreciated:) Enjoy!

Read on AO3

You know it’s a bad idea before you even do it.

But you’re both bordering on drunk, and she’s been touching you all evening, hands and shoulder brushing against yours sending prickles of heat through your body. It’s like she’s finding any reason to make contact as her fingers dance across your arms sending shivers down your spine. She’s got an adorably excited grin on her face when she turns back around, and your breath catches as your stomach fills with butterflies. And when she comes closer, to pass you the darts, fingers lingering, a smirk on her face as her eyes dance with challenge, you just react.

Your hand locks in hers, giving her a small tug towards you. A soft gasp escapes her lips. She’s so close you can see the light dancing through her chocolate brown eyes as her perfume surrounds you. It’s not overpowering, it’s intoxicating. The smell is familiar and makes a warmth settle in your lower belly. Her eyes flutter over your face and yours fall to her lips.

You know it’s a bad idea, that you should step away, end the evening, and go home. This had the capability to ruin everything but your brain is fuzzy from the alcohol and when her tongue sweeps out to moisten her lips you can’t seem to remember the reasons anymore because you want this, want her.

Oh, how much you want her...

You tentatively brush your lips against hers, soft but sure before pulling back slightly to gauge her reaction. Jack doesn’t let you get far though, her hands leaving yours to move to the nape of your neck, pulling you back to her. She kisses you hard, and you throw the darts you have in your hand to the floor as your arms snake around her waist and pull her into you. The kiss heats up, hot hungry kisses which are escalated with the swipe of Jack’s tongue against your bottom lip. She tastes like whiskey and sugar and you’re hooked. Jack groans into your mouth, her hand moving to grip your hair as you both stumble backwards.

You separate from her lips long enough to fall to the couch and for her to straddle your thighs. Her skirt rides up at the action and your fingers grip the exposed skin as you urge her closer. Your lips find their way to her neck. She tips her head back granting you better access to leave a trail of open mouth kisses from the base of her neck up to her earlobe where your teeth nibble and tug. “Y/N.” Jack moans. The sound was going to be etched into your memory forever. You growl, your lips going back to her neck and you bask in the feeling of being able to pull moans from her throat as you learn which places to nip and kiss to earn the strongest responses. Her hips ground down into you, a groan escapes your throat and she draws you back to her mouth as your fingers make their way to her shirt, tugging at the buttons to get access to her chest.

You both freeze at the knock at the door. Jack’s off your lap instantly, tugging her skirt down and re-buttoning her shirt in the progress. “Who is it?” She shouts, her breathing’s still ragged as she makes her way towards her closed office door. Your brain is hazy, still trying to catch up with the sudden change in the situation, but you manage to get yourself together enough to tame your messy hair that moments before had had Jack’s hands in.

“Agent Parker.”

Jack opens her office door, only far enough to stick her head out. She speaks to the agent for a few minutes before closing the door with a click that rings out loudly into the silence of the room. Jack hadn’t met your eyes since she’d removed herself from your lap and instead of looking at you now, she made her way to her desk focusing on the file Parker had just handed her. The silence in the room was deafening and dread starts to settle in your stomach.

You stand from the couch hesitantly making your way over to her desk. “Jack?” Your voice is scratchy when you speak.

“We shouldn’t have-It was a mistake.” She only spares you a glance before her eyes are back on the file, but her voice is firm. Her aloofness felt like a stab to the heart. You try not to let it show on your face, but tears were beginning to build behind your eyes.

“A mistake?” Jack finally looks at you, her eyes that were usually so expressive gave away nothing of what she was feeling. Her back was rigid, tension radiating off her in waves as she holds her arms tightly across her chest, the file still hanging in one hand. It hurts. You want to rewind a few hours, refuse the drink Jack had offered and go home.

“We’ve both been drinking. We’re friends, co-workers, that’s it.”

“Bullshit.” You don’t know if it’s the alcohol coursing through you or your anger that gives you the confidence to say it, but she couldn’t kiss you like that and then pretend it doesn’t mean anything. It meant everything. Jack rears back, her eyes widening in surprise.

“Excuse me?”

“I said, Bull. Shit!” You’re moving before you can think it through too much, rounding her desk to stand in front of her. Jack doesn’t do anything but stare at you as you move into her personal space.

Your eyes search hers, looking for anything to indicate she felt something, to prove she felt what was between the two of you but there’s nothing there. Just cold, detached eyes that have your confidence fading away. Maybe she was drunker than you thought? She really didn’t feel any of the things you did. Your hand hovers by her face, wanting desperately to touch but instead you pull away tightening your hand into a fist by your side to hide how it was shaking. You step away averting your gaze. “Sorry, I thought…I guess it doesn’t matter.” You move away, going to the chair you’d dropped your bag onto earlier.

“Y/N,” Her voice is soft, but you can’t get yourself to turn back around and look at her, instead you slip your bag on to your shoulder.

“I’ll see you tomorrow Jack.” You swallow the lump in your throat, hoping she doesn’t notice your raspy voice as you try to control your spiralling emotions. You don’t look back at her as you walk out her office, shoulders squared in an effort to not let her know you were seconds away from falling apart. You slam the door shut behind you, the sound ringing loudly through her office and down the corridor.

Your fingers ghost your lip as you squeeze your eyes tightly shut and try to banish away the feelings of Jack’s lips on yours. You quickly wipe away the few tears that had managed to escape. Ignoring the growing ache in your chest as you make your way out of NCIS and into a taxi. Despite the alcohol still in your system, you’d never felt so sober, any buzz you’d felt long gone and replaced with heartache and disappointment.

----

The next morning you select every piece of your outfit like a suit of armour. Black skinny jeans that hug your ass tightly, a white button-down shirt, an oversized dark green blazer, and black boots. You felt powerful. You spent extra time on your makeup, making sure to cover up the dark circles from your restless night and fix your hair into its usual fashion. Despite the ache in your heart, you radiate confidence when you arrive at work, coffee cup in hand and determination in your eyes.

You’re the first one in the office. You get out a cold case file you’d been wanting to check out and set to work, flicking through the crime scene photos as you jot down notes of your own. Anytime the thought of Jack tries to distract you you bat it away, gripping the pen in your hand tighter as you try to regain focus. It’s a dead Chief Petty Officer case from 10 years ago, any leads had gone cold within the year and the agent in charge of the case had retired nearly 8 years ago now. The Petty Officer had been found in his apartment. Your eyes scan every inch of the photo as you take note of the blood splatter, of the placement of objects, of the spray of blood across the beach portrait on the wall.

Jack. Images of the stories she’s told you about her surfing come to mind and before you can stop it you are spiralling. Jack’s mouth, the taste of her, the glorious moans you’d pulled from her, the feel of her skin beneath your lips, her cold eyes, ‘It was a mistake.’ The ding of the elevator breaks you from your thoughts and just as you look up Jack’s stepping out into the bullpen, her step faltering when she notices you. She looks at you and then in the direction of her office, her uncertainty is clear, but it only takes her a couple of seconds to make up her mind and then she’s heading towards your desk.

“Hey, can we talk?” Jack’s hands tighten on the handle of her bag, a hesitant smile on her face. She’s wearing a high neck shirt, despite the warming weather, and your mind flashes back to your teeth scraping against her throat the night before and you can’t help but wonder, and hope, if you left marks.

You’d been up half the night going over everything that had happened, examining each detail and trying to work out how you’d gotten it so wrong because, yes, the alcohol had a huge part in your confidence to kiss her, but you’d generally thought that there was something between the two of you and that was only heightened by the way she kissed you back. But then you remember her cold eyes afterwards, that she didn’t falter when she held your gaze and as much as you wanted to believe she was lying you couldn’t think of a reason why she would.

Her friendship was too important to you, despite your feelings Jack was your friend, and you’d rather have her like that, then not have her at all. So, when you speak, what you tell her isn’t exactly a lie but it’s the most dishonest you’ve ever been with her and it hurts. “Yeah, I actually wanted to apologise for last night. You were right, we’d both had too much to drink.” You don’t notice the disappointment flashing through her eyes as you talk, too focused on trying to get through what you were saying and make it believable.

“Right. A mistake.” Jack’s voice sounds odd but before you can question it’s she’s talking again. “I just wanted to make sure we’re okay. That this isn’t going to make things awkward between us.”

“It was just a kiss.” Your eyes fall to her lips and you quickly avert your gaze as you try not to think of all the reasons it wasn’t just a kiss. “We’re good.” You smile and Jack seems to relax.

“Okay, good.” She moves closer, walking behind your desk so she can see the file you’d been working on, the conversation dropped. “Cold case?”

“Yeah. Petty Officer found stabbed in his home, 10 years ago.” You feel lightheaded, Jack’s moved to lean down next to you, the smell of her perfume surrounding you. Your eyes stay trained on the case file and not on the sensation of Jack’s hand resting on the back of your chair, her arm hovering centimetres away from your back.

“Any suspects?”

“They suspected the girlfriend for a while, her alibi was weak but there wasn’t enough evidence to charge her.” You sigh. Jack pulls back slightly, her hand leaving the back of your chair. You take that as a sign it’s safe to turn to her which is a mistake because she’s a lot closer than expected, a warm smile on her face that quickens your heart rate.

Jack’s eyes flitter over your face, her eyes momentarily darting to your lips. Your brows furrow as you watch the conflict dance through Jack’s eyes. Maybe you weren’t wrong? Maybe she did like you. She’s pulling away before you can do anything, not meeting your eyes as she clears her throat. “Right, well good luck with the profile. I should get to work.” She chances a glance at you, a tight-lipped smile on her face before she turns and basically runs for her office.

The hope returns that maybe it wasn’t just a drunken mistake. You try to squish the feeling, not get your hopes up because it usually only ends in disaster, but it’s too late. You sigh, shaking your head and draining the remainder of the coffee before blindly chucking it in the bin behind you and returning your focus on the case report. It wasn’t time to think about it now.

----

Rubbing the knot out of your shoulder, you make your way back to the bullpen. The day was finally coming to a close, having just finished interrogating a suspect who confessed to the brutal murder of a seaman. All you needed to do was type up your report and then you could escape home and order takeout, probably pizza because you’ll be too lazy to cook and finally catch up on the tv shows you were behind on.

You halt in your tracks, eyes narrowing when you notice a woman you don’t recognise sitting at your desk. Torres is perched next to her flirting and even from only seeing the back of her head you could see she wasn’t interested. You look to Tim in question. “Metro.” He mouths and your confusion only grows, why was a Metro Cop sitting at your desk?

You clear your throat drawing the attention of Torres and the mystery woman, who just turns around in your chair, a smug smile on her face that only makes your annoyance grow. “Can I help you?”

Torres leaves your desk, heading over to Ellie’s (because god forbid he sat at his own desk) and the woman stands, sauntering over despite you only being a couple of steps away. “Detective Rachel Gartland. Metro PD.” You shake the extended hand.

“Ok?” You don’t bother to offer your name; she obviously knows who you are if she was sitting at your desk.

“You inquired after one of my cases. I want to know why.” You barely refrain from rolling your eyes at the arrogance in her voice. Instead of offering an immediate answer you walk past her and sit down.

“And this couldn’t be done over the phone, or through email, why?” Gartland just smirks, moving to perch herself where Torres had before, apparently personal space be damned. You don’t bother to stop your eye roll this time. “Which case?”

“Issac Schmidt. Victim of a burglary gone wrong.”

“Oh, I thought it might relate to a cold case I’m looking into.” You raise a brow. “So, the case file?”

“I want in. This is my case.”

“Was your case. You couldn’t solve it.” Anger flitters across Garland’s face and you smirk smugly at her. She pushes herself off your desk, one hand coming to rest on the arm of your chair and the other on your desk, trapping you. Your brows shoot up in shock and you bite your lip lightly as the woman smirks challengingly. “How about I contact you if I find anything.”

“That’s not good enough.”

“That’s all you’re getting.” Gartland’s eyes darken, momentarily darting to your lips. You see a flash of blonde hair out of the corner of your eye. Jack’s standing by Tim’s desk lips pressed tightly into a thin line as she glares daggers at Gartland. You arch your brow in challenge as Jack’s gaze turns to you.

Gartland notices your staring match. “Think your girlfriend is jealous.” She whispers into your ear. Jack’s eyes flash, head ducking as she quickly turns and makes her way in the direction of the elevator. You don’t hesitate, removing Gartland's hand from your chair and slipping past her as you follow Jack, sliding into the elevator just before the doors close.

Jack’s back is to you, head bowed. You whack the emergency stop button causing the elevator to jolt slightly and Jack stumbles backwards in surprise. Your hand flies to her hip, helping her to rebalance as she swings around to face you, eyes swarming with emotion and your breath catches. You pull her closer and she doesn’t resist. Her face is so close you can see the slight pink to her cheeks as her lashes flutter, gaze settling on your lips. “Jack.” You breathe quietly, scared to break whatever was happening. Jack meets your eyes showing you her building tears which were threatening to fall. You reach out, cupping her cheek and she momentarily leans into the touch, eyes falling shut before she pulls away, stepping around you to flick the switch and start the elevator up again, the lights flicker on and you release a sigh. “Jack, I want you but I'm not going to chase after you. You need to decide what you want because I’m here and I'm willing to take the risk, but I need you to do the same.”

Jack doesn’t look at you, just makes her way off the elevator, ignoring the looks from the team as she walks away. Gartland’s still by your desk. “So, a joint case?” She asks, smirking as you make your way over. You yank open your desk drawer, pulling the case file out and shove it into her hands.

“It’s your case.” Gartland’s mouth opens in shock, all her smug humour disappearing. You return to your chair, turning back to the computer.

“But-”

“I’m not fighting for jurisdiction. I don’t care. You want it, you take it.” A headache was beginning to build behind your eyes. Gartland’s eyes flick from you to the rest of the team who are all watching the exchange. She opens her bag, pulling out her own case file and placing it and the one you’d handed her back on your desk. Your lips twitch.

“I have too many open cases anyway.” She says in a way of explanation, pushing herself off your desk she nods her head in Gibbs’ direction and makes her way to the elevator.

You breathe a sigh of relief. Everyone’s eyes are trained on you and you look up, eyes flicking over everyone, brow arched. “Yes?”

“You ok?” Ellie asks.

“Yeah.”

“And is Jack ok?” You swallow roughly, trying to hide your reaction as your eyes flick back to the computer.

“You’ll have to ask her.” Everyone’s still watching you. “Anything else? Or have you guys got nothing better to do than stare at me?” Nick returns to his desk while Ellie and Tim focus back on their computers. You can still feel Gibbs’ eyes on you, but he doesn’t say anything just gets up and heads in the direction of Jack’s office.

He still hasn’t returned 20 minutes later when you finish typing up your report and you don’t hang around to see if he does, just print out the report, place it on his desk and pack your bag. “See you all tomorrow.” The others all say goodbye, shooting looks between each other and towards you as you leave.

----

“Y/N backdoor. Bishop and I will take the front.” You nod, drawing your gun and making your way through the side passage of the suspect’s house. Naval Officer Peter Carson’s body had been found floating in a lake, strangled to death by a cord. The team’s investigation had led you to a civilian named Tim Drewger who had owed Carson a lot of money due to gambling debts. The theory was that instead of paying those debts he’d resulted too killing the man and stole a suitcase full of cash in the process.

You duck to avoid being seen through the windows, quietly opening the back door. You make your way down the short corridor, shoving open the door to the next room. Your gun is instantly whacked from your hands cluttering to the floor as Drewger grabs your wrist yanking you further into the room and in one swoop wraps a cord around your neck. You grab it with one hand desperately pulling at the cord as it slices your fingers and you struggle for breath. You reach for the knife strapped to your waist, plunging it into the man’s leg. His grip loosens on the cord as he screams, falling backwards and onto the kitchen floor. You turn around, still gasping for breath, your gun lies on the ground next to Drewger, he notices and before you can move, grabs it, turning the gun on you. You try to lunge out of the way but he’s too quick, shooting twice, first, hitting you in your vest, knocking the breath from your lungs as you fall against the wall and then again, you manage to roll out of the way, the bullet only grazing your upper arm. The kitchen door slams open, bullets from Bishop and Gibbs flying into Drewger and his body slumps lifelessly onto the floor.

“Glad you could join.” You say, gasping between breaths as Gibbs and Ellie rush to your side.

“You hit?” Gibbs’ eyes scan over your body, ignoring your attempt at humour.

“Vest and arm.” When they see the arm is just a graze, they breathe a sigh of relief. Gibbs insists on taking you to the hospital while Ellie stays behind to secure the scene and wait for the others to arrive so they can bag all the evidence. They wrap temporary bandages around your hand and arm when you arrive, prodding your chest where the bullet had hit to check for broken ribs. It seems they’re just bruised but they wheel you off for an x-ray to be safe.

You’re fine, just heavily bruised. They take you back to an examination room tending properly to your cuts now they’re sure nothing’s broken and there’s no internal bleeding. You’re given an ice pack to hold to your ribs to help soothe the bruise. “You know you can head back to the office, I’m fine.” You roll your eyes at Gibbs, who’s sitting on a chair sipping coffee as he watches the doctor work.

“I’m good.” He shrugs, taking another sip from his drink and you smirk but that’s quickly wiped from your face as you try to resist groaning when the doctor begins to peel off the bandage on your hand, dried blood tugging at your skin. The cord had cut into the 3 central fingers of your left hand, deep enough that stitches were required. You grumble when he tapes the fingers together, the next few weeks were going to be fun. He then moves to tend to the graze on your arm. You and the doctor both jump in surprise when the examination room door flies open and in comes Jack. She’s shaking, windswept hair and red cheeks as she takes deep breaths.

Her eyes scan your body as she takes in your injuries. “Gibbs said you’d been shot.”

“It’s just a scratch. I’m fine.” You glare at Gibbs. “Why didn’t you tell her it was just a scratch?”

“She didn’t exactly give me time to explain.” Gibbs huffs, standing up. He looks between you and Jack, who’s yet to take her eyes off you. “I’ll be outside.” The doctor finishes securing the bandage before leaving the room behind Gibbs. The door clicks shut, the only noise now in the room is Jack’s heavy breathing as she makes her way over to you.

You don’t say anything, just watch her, dropping the icepack next to you as she moves to stand between your legs, eyes ghosting with tears. Her shaky hand comes to cup your cheek and you lean into the touch. “When Gibbs said you’d been shot…” Jack shakes her head, her voice catching as tears begin to trickle down her cheeks. “I was so scared-”

“Hey, look I’m fine. Come here.” You pull her into a hug, arms wrapped around her waist as Jack buries her head into your shoulder, her tears trickling into the crook of your neck, she’s pressed tightly against you and you swallow the pain that comes from the pressure on your bruises. “Just a couple of scratches,” Jack says something but it’s swallowed by the fabric of your shirt. “Hmm?”

She pulls back slightly, her nose brushing the side of your face as she meets your eyes. Your breath catches, Jack’s mouth only a hairbreadth away from yours. Her eyes fall to your lips before meeting your curious gaze again. “I said...I don’t want to lie to myself anymore.”

“Then don’t.”

Jack sighs, the breath blowing against your lips. “I’m not good at this Y/N.”

“Jack…”

“Yeah?”

“Please just kiss me.” And with that, she closes the last bit of space between you capturing your lips softly, a complete contrast to your first kiss. Her hand moves to the nape of your neck urging you closer as you stroke her cheek, tears mingling together. Jack’s hand goes in search of yours, but you gasp in pain when her fingers brush against the bandage.

She pulls away. “Shit. Sorry.”

“It’s fine. They’re just sensitive.”

Jack softly palms your hand. “What happened?”

You sniff chuckling, wiping away the tears that had stained your cheeks. “Oh, you know, the usual, he tried to strangle me with a wire and then shot me...twice. First in the vest and then the second just grazed my arm.”

Jack’s face drops. “Can I?” She asks, signalling to your t-shirt. You nod and Jack gently peels up your shirt, a gasp escaping her lips when she sees the bruise, littered with red and purple splotches.

“It’s not as bad as it looks.” Her fingers lightly ghost the skin and you hiss at the contact. Jack raises a brow at you, emotions still dancing in her eyes. “Ok, so it’s a little bad. I’ll be fine though; good night’s rest and I’ll be back in the office tomorrow.”

“You most definitely will not!”

“I know no fieldwork, but I can sit at my desk.”

“Or you can be sensible and take the rest of the week off to get better.”

“What and spend every day alone and bored?”

“Who said anything about being alone?” Jack smirks and a grin breaks out on your face. Jack leans closer again, nose brushing yours. “Think you could manage then?” You don’t respond, instead, capturing the blonde’s lips again, both of you smiling into the kiss.

You hum. “Guess I could.”

“Let’s get you the paperwork to check out and then I’ll take you home.”

“Sounds good.” You slowly push yourself off the table, careful as your feet land on the floor, the shift in pressure hurting. Jack’s watching you closely, ready to step in and help if you need it. She’s chewing her lip anxiously. “Jack, I promise I’m fine.”

“I know, I know...Just one thing.” Jack moves closer to you again, her hand cupping your cheek.

“Anything.”

She captures your lip’s in a sweet kiss, your hand gripping her hip as you pull her closer. Jack pulls back, blowing out a shaky breath. “Better.”

A dorky grin spreads over your face as you look at Jack, taking in every inch of her face. You peck her lips, revelling in the fact you can do that now, and then link your uninjured hand with hers as you both make your way from the room feeling like the luckiest women in the world.

#jack sloane x reader #jacqueline sloane #jack sloane #ncis #maria bello #reader insert #fem!reader #writing #fanfic #fanfiction #just a kiss #light angst #fluff #hurt/comfort

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hedwigstalons · 4 years

Text

High Expectations - ch2

Ok, I’m already regretting setting myself the art challenge. It’s hard. Huge kudos to all you artists out there. Still, the clue for me should have been in the word ‘challenge’. No, I don’t know why Alan’s hand is a different colour to the rest of him and shading features is pretty much impossible. Maybe by the end of the fic I’ll have got the hang of it. I might have to pick and easier idea for the next chapter

Huge thanks to @willow-salix for all the read throughs and pointers.

Earlier parts: One

Chapter Two

The early light of dawn was just visible around the curtain edges in the lounge. The reflected light off the large screen projection illuminated the figures staring avidly at the screen with a soft blue glow. The occasion had been deemed worthy of setting up the large cinematic screen meaning the whole glittering spectacle filled nearly a whole wall of the generously proportioned room.

Jeff sat back in an aged leather armchair shipped specially from Kansas. The form of it had moulded to his body by the passage of many years although he rarely had time to relax in it now. Across the room Virgil and John, both on vacation from university, book-ended the sofa; a sleek designer affair that manged to combine both style and comfort. Both looked sleepy and a little unfocussed. Virgil had never been a fan of early mornings and it was entirely possible that John hadn’t actually made it to bed yet if he had spent the night engrossed in the stars. His youngest son, still a child and growing into his talents, sat on the floor leaning back against the sofa rather than sitting on the chair itself. In Alan’s hands was a cup of popcorn chosen especially for the cinematic treat. He sat there in rapt awe, barely blinking as he popped piece after piece of white fluff into his mouth. Jeff nursed his own mug of inky black coffee. The aroma of the beans filling the space around him with a rich warmth.

At last the moment they had been waiting for arrived. Team USA marched into shot; processing around a stadium half a world and many time zones away. Ranks of the chosen few strode across the screen in all their athletic glory. The athletes were bedecked in pristine white trousers and shirts topped with navy blue blazers. Red trim to the lapels completed the patriotic ensemble. The young men and women chosen to represent their country trailed behind the flag bearer, their lines arranged with military precision. Jeff rather thought the effect was spoiled by the individuals walking out of step with each other and waving to the crowd in the surrounding stadium. It jarred with his Air Force history which much preferred the uniformity of troops marching smartly in time.

A squeal broke through his internal criticism of the scene.

“There he is! There he is!”

Alan’s voice, still high pitched in its youth, filled the space with an exuberant joy. The cup of popcorn was tilting dangerously towards the floor as the youngest of five spotted his next in line.

The fourth Tracy son crossed the screen and disappeared out of sight in a matter of seconds and Jeff was forced to pause, rewind and replay the footage several times before Alan had got his fill of the sight.

Gordon looked happy. Happier than he had done for weeks. Happy didn’t do justice to the beaming, grinning individual with sandy blonde hair slightly tinted by chlorine who strode between his fellow countrymen and women. He seemed to bounce along, riding the waves of the atmosphere that swirled around the stadium.

Jeff had seen little of his second youngest son lately despite technically living in the same house. Both had demanding schedules; one filled with work and business meetings, the other filled with school and pool training. The moment school had finished Gordon had been whisked away to the pre-games training camp, missing both his high school graduation ceremony and the senior prom. The young man on the screen was almost a stranger and definitely an enigma to him.

Jeff’s eldest three sons were of a mind-set he could understand. They were studious, clever, indeed highly gifted in their chosen fields. He had been immensely proud when Scott had been accepted to Yale and then followed him down his own career path into the Air Force. The young man was making quite a name for himself in the service if the regular updates sent through by old colleagues were to be believed; he had already been promoted to First Lieutenant and it looked like he would soon be a Captain. Virgil excelled in engineering but also retained a quiet compassion that allowed him to see the world as more than just a set of variables and constants to be manipulated. John had followed him to the stars and Jeff had no doubt that his quietest son could follow him out of Earth’s atmosphere and beyond just a theoretical study of space travel if he so desired.

Gordon was evidently gifted too but in a direction he couldn’t quite comprehend. Physical ability was a facet he appreciated and even John had submitted to his requirement for regular structured exercise. But a strong body needed to be a vessel for a keen mind and Gordon just hadn’t shown any particular leanings towards an academic field.

He was as proud as any father could be that a son of his had reached the Olympics and at such a young age but he still worried for his son’s future prospects.

A sigh from the floor broke through his contemplations.

“I wish we could have been there for the opening ceremony.”

“Now Alan, we’ve been through this. Gordon’s heats don’t start for another week. I’ve got us tickets to his events and we will be there to see him compete in person but I just cannot spare the time to take you out there for the whole duration of the Games.”

“But Virgil could have taken me. Or John.” The voice was a petulant whine now.

“Virgil and John might be on summer break but they both still have work to do. The last thing either of them need is to be responsible for you at the biggest international sporting event in the world. Watching sport has never been your thing before. It’s normally hard enough to prise you away from those video games you play.”

Both Virgil and John looked infinitely relieved that neither of them was expected to be responsible for an excitable young teenager in a foreign country. It was bad enough taking him bowling or to the cinema. Alan seemed to be well and truly gripped by Olympic fever, hence them all watching the live coverage of the opening ceremony at some hideous time of the morning rather than watching a recording at a more socially acceptable hour. It seemed to mean so much to their youngest brother to get the chance to watch out for Gordon live that they hadn’t had the heart to refuse. It was just as well Gordon had had his few seconds of glory on screen otherwise Alan would have been beyond devastated not to have seen him.

“But it’s the Olympics. And it’s Gordon.” As if this explained everything.

“And you will get to see Gordon compete in every race he is in when we fly out next week. Even Scott has managed to arrange some leave so he can join us. Gordon will be well supported.”

Alan huffed slightly in response but went back to staring at the screen, the popcorn once again being shovelled in as figures from all nations strode across in a seemingly never ending stream of competitors.

Once it became clear that Team USA would not be making another appearance Virgil and John sloped off. Virgil to reclaim his bed, John to find his for the first time that sleep cycle having reverted to a near nocturnal pattern without classes to drag him away from his beloved stars. Both had willingly joined the spectators in the lounge but the time difference left a lot to be desired and both were exhausted after a long and difficult semester. Jeff followed after but for him the destination was to work rather than bed. Alan was soon left to watch the conclusion of the carefully choreographed spectacle alone.

xoxoxox

Virgil padded towards the kitchen, he socks making no sound on the hardwood floor. He could almost forget that there was anyone else in the apartment. He had barely seen his brothers all day and Jeff was still at the office. John had spent much of the day sleeping after grumbling that the city skies really hadn’t been worth staying up for. He assumed Alan was engrossing in another gaming session. Part of him wondered if he ought to have a word with their dad; his youngest brother seemed to spend an unhealthy amount of time hooked up to a console.

He paused at Alan’s door, taking a moment to take in the view through the crack. Rather than being strapped into a VR headset as expected, Alan was instead sprawled on his bed. A screen was propped up on his knees. The murmured one sided conversation suggested a video call rather than another game. He wasn’t normally one to eavesdrop but curiosity overcame Virgil as he wondered who on earth Alan could be talking to. He didn’t talk about any particular school friends and beyond Grandma they had no family to speak of. He stayed to one side of the doorway out of sight and listened. If he stood absolutely still he could just about pick up the other voice on the line.

“The stadium looked huge. What was it like? Did you get some photos for me?”

“Yeah, it’s massive. Kinda makes be glad I’m not in the track and field events. No photos though, we couldn’t take cameras in to the opening ceremony. We didn’t even get to see the show afterwards, just lots of waiting around to go in then straight back to the Village after. You probably saw more than I did.”

Gordon then. He figured it must already be the next morning for their absent athlete.

“Aww. We saw you, y’know. Who was the cute blonde you were next to?”

Virgil smirked. For all he might bounce like an excited puppy Alan was evidently growing up and the hormones were kicking up.

“Which one? Amber the high jumper or Brad the hockey player?”

“Amber, I’ll leave Brad to you. Think you can introduce me when we’re over there?”

“No chance. Firstly, she already has a long term boyfriend. And secondly, you’re about five years too young for that sort of stuff.”

“Hey, I’m not that young. Not that you’d think it the way things go round here. There’s something going on and Dad won’t tell me about it. Since John and Virgil got back Dad keeps having meetings with them in the study.”

“Rather them than me. You know as well as I do the study only means bad news.”

“I don’t think so. And since when has John ever been chewed out over anything. It’s not like he ever missed curfew or turned in a bad report card. I don’t know what’s going on but this place is full of secrets. They all just treat me as a kid though, like I wouldn’t understand.”

“Try not to worry about it Al. Why don’t you get John to help you finish that sim you were coding?”

“Maybe. He just seems so busy though.”

“Look, I’ve got to go, I’ve got training soon. I’ll try and call same time tomorrow if that works for you.”

“Sure.”

“Don’t forget to eat your vegetables and clean your teeth.”

“Yes Mom. Now don’t you need to go put some water wings on.”

“Cheeky brat. Speak to you tomorrow. Bye.”

“Bye Gordo.”

Virgil watched as the screen was put to one side, the smile sliding off of Alan’s face, before continued his journey to the kitchen to grab a drink. That brief conversation with Gordon was more words than he had heard out of his youngest sibling in one go since he had arrived back home. He had put it down to sullen teenage moods but evidently Alan could be quite chatty when he wanted to.

Alan was clearly missing Gordon. The youngest two had always been close. Despite Gordon technically being closer in age to John than Alan the sibling friendship pairings hadn’t worked out that way. Virgil realised how little he knew about the youngest pair beyond Gordon’s swimming. Since when had Alan been able to code simulations? And what sort of simulations?

He shrugged it off as a conundrum for another day. They would be flying out to the Olympics in just a few days and he wanted to get a project plan sent off to his supervisor before that happened. The meetings with Jeff, which Alan had evidently picked up on, had changed the direction of his post-grad project and he wanted to get the revisions in before travelling. Bonding time could happen once the work was completed.

#thunderbirds #thunderbirds fanfiction #high expectations #my art #Olympics #Gordon Tracy #Jeff Tracy

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enchantingkittengaditor · 3 years

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Close To Home | 02. Yulia

Summary: Peter Parker’s relaxing European vacation takes an unexpected turn when Nick Fury shows up in his hotel room to recruit him for a mission with Yulia, who at this point is unknowingly a part of it while on a mission that Nat couldn’t finish before she died. The world is in danger as four massive elemental creatures – each representing Earth, air, water and fire – emerge from a hole torn in the universe. Parker soon finds himself donning the Spider-Man suit to help Fury and fellow superhero Mysterio stop the evil entities from wreaking havoc across the continent. Yulia while on a mission is also enjoying the holiday with her friends and the ghosts that haunt her. When Fury finally gets Yulia involved he finds that she’s been trying to gather a team for something that involves some familiar faces and some new ones and that she knows the truth behind the mysterious figure that is Mysterio. With her help and that of the team she put together Nick and Maria gather information about what is going on around Europe.

Warnings: Mentions of Violence, Slight mentions Torture and Swearing

TTM Universe Page | Masterlist

“OK, first I’m in Sokovia with Wanda and Kate, second calm down and slap a spider,” I told Peter, walking away from the tent I was in within the refugee camp.

“What does that mean?” He asked me.

“It’s an old saying here, trust me it makes much more sense in Sokovian and Russian because of our folklore. But it generally means calm down and breathe and hit something if needed.”

“How can that make any sense in any language!”

“It just does, you need anything else or can I go back to helping like I’m meant to be doing to honour Nat and the Bishop’s?”

“How do you do it, all of it? Shut down your emotions and go back and move on?�� He asked me.

“Don’t. I do it because I was taught that emotions get in the way of a mission by a group of monsters in a cave under a giant stone horse. You shouldn’t, embrace them and let them change you because there’s no such thing as a set you. If you have to cry, scream, do whatever it takes but don’t go down that path. I’m trying to stop myself from doing it but I’m still guilty of doing it, Kate and Wanda are helping me, just know I’m here for you whenever you need. Just call me, I may be pissed at you and swear at you but I’ll always answer your call to help you, auchonok, after all, you are the only spider-based superhero left on this plane and the other one is still avoiding me. Just breathe and have Ned help you,” I rambled on smiling at him as Kate walked up behind me ready to scare me, “Also Kate I can see you in the camera. Hope it all ends well for you Peter. Maybe I'll see you around. Send my regards to Fury."

"Bye and thanks," he told me.

Let's rewind, back a few weeks back to me, Kate and Wanda planning our trip to Sokovia with the Bishop Charitable Trust and the Black Widow Project, the charities me and Kate created to honour those we lost after the 'blip' as the media named it.

"So we can spend 3 weeks in Sokovia helping rebuild after Ultron and the civil war setting up the camps, then we can go and have some fun around Europe and hope that we don't stumble across Peter," Wanda told us, with a pen in her hand looking at the calendar and back at the laptop on the desk within Nat's little Odessa apartment.

"As long as we don't go to Oxford, I don't want to go back there ever again," I told them looking at the map of Europe pinned on the wall with little red dots splattered across it.

"Fine and I still want to know if that's blood on the map," Kate told us following my eyes to the map.

"It's not, it's just a red sharpie marking everywhere Nat ran into Yelena or killed someone, I haven't figured it out yet," I told her.

"That's not concerning at all," she mumbled.

"You get used to it," I smiled at her, "Wanda we should hold a funeral for Nat in Russia and one for Pietro in Sokovia while we're there."

"You're right, Kate if you want you don't have to come do that with us," Wanda told her with a smile.

"I should go, you guys can talk about this more. I have to find a CEO for Bishop industries and trademark the name Hawkeye and get Clint to change his name to Hawkguy," she smiled, giving me a hug and getting up and leaving, "I'll see you at the studio later. See you guys!"

“Bye Kate,” We chorused back before Wanda turned to look at me.

“Studio?”

“Kate’s getting me back into dancing if you must know and I’m helping her with fighting,” I informed her with a smirk.

“Good for you. Now can you help me book tickets and hotels?” Wanda asked.

“Sure.”

“Welcome to Sokovia, Yulia & Kate,” Wanda said holding her arms up in pride.

“You do realize a lot of these people blame you for Ultron destroying the city, Right?” Kate asked her.

“Yes, now let’s go.”

We’d only been in Sokovia for about a week when I got the call from Nick Fury about a mission.

N: “Yulia you need to come in, we have a mission for you.”

Y: “What if I don’t want to go on a mission for you. I’m finally spending time with my sister and I’m happy, Nick. Let me enjoy this for once in my life.”

N: “It’s important, life or death important.”

Y: “So’s this. To me. I’ve saved enough lives, I’m only a teenager Nick. I’m not one of your soldiers that you can just all on to save the day. I was trained to be the bad guy not to save everyone.”

N: “If we lose I lose.”

Y: “I am NOT protecting your fragile masculinity Nick. I refuse to protect anyones fragile masculinity, let alone the head of a spy agency. You want me, find me and give me a reason. Until then I’ll be helping people recover from something you caused, with my sister and my only living friend. Goodbye Nick. I’m retired for 3 months.”

Then not even a day later I got the call from Peter Parker.

“OK, first I’m in Sokovia with Wanda and Kate, second calm down and slap a spider,” I told Peter, walking away from the tent I was in within the refugee camp.

“What does that mean?” He asked me.

“It’s an old saying here, trust me it makes much more sense in Sokovian and Russian because of our folklore. But it generally means calm down and breathe and hit something if needed.”

“How can that make any sense in any language!”

“It just does, do you need anything else or can I go back to helping like I’m meant to be doing to honour Nat and the Bishop’s?”

“How do you do it, all of it? Shut down your emotions and go back and move on?” He asked me.

"Bye and thanks," he told me.

God, why do these people always come to me. I’m a screwed up teenager with little formal education and a death wish. Why me? Kate did tell me it was because I was trustworthy to which I laughed and Wanda told me off.

"So this is the place you grew up?" Kate asked Wanda tilting her head slightly trying to see if it made any more sense from another angle.

"Yup, home sweet home, after Stark bombs blew up are family home. And the place that Pietro died."

"Fun," I mumbled as we entered the building ready to get to work.

“You remember it?” Kate asked me, barely above a whisper as we trailed behind Wanda to wherever she was leading the pair of us.

“Not at all, but you have to remember we went to different orphanages so I wouldn’t remember this one. Also I was 2,” I told her, looking at the photos on the walls.

“I just realized they won’t speak english will they?” Kate said, grabbing my hand and looking into my eyes.

“Probably not. I hope you’re Russian and Sokovian are up to date,” I smiled running after Wanda.

“I don’t speak Russian! Or Sokovian!” She yelled, running after me.

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la-luna-es-hermosa · 4 years

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Ang Halimaw - Kabanata Isa. Mahiwagang Gubat

Translation: The Monster - Chapter One. Enchanted Forest

※ Main Masterlist ※ Ang Halimaw Masterlist ※ Time Traveller!AU || Immortal!AU || War!AU || Filipino Mythology!AU ※ Series || Genre: Smut || Angst || Adventure || Romance || Horror ※ Pairing: Kim Jongin x OC (Paula) ※ Summary: Paula, an eighteen-year-old Filipino-American girl goes back to her province after her grandmother’s death. She will go on an adventure as she tries to find the village her late grandma grew up in. In a twist of events, she never knew that she will see her grandma’s lover and fall madly in love with him. Will he save her in his peculiar world? ※ Warning: Age Gap, Dub Con, (Technically) Incest, Swearing ※ Word Count: 1930 ※ Note: I was inspired by Miss Peregrine’s Home of The Peculiar Children and I Love You Since 1892 for this one. I can’t even sleep while writing chapter four and three on this story. - I was scared shitless.

Grandma’s stories exploring the forbidden forest always amaze Paula. I wish I could go on an adventure of my life in a place like that. Paula never really had the chance to get out of her house most of the time since she came from an immigrant family and they aren’t living in a Filipino community. People often bullied her and her sister because they live in this white majority gated community. That often left Paula in her own world. In a world where magic, time travel existed.

She always talked about her friend Lucille and how she fell in love with the same man Lucille treasured. The love of her life. Paula listened to her attentively. She is always curious about Lucille, the woman the Jongin fell in love with. When her grandma died at the age of 100, she left her with a box. It had a framed picture of Lucille and the said Jongin in the mansion, she was wearing a white gown and he was wearing a suit and tie. They really looked like a married couple, which they were. She wished her grandma had someone else. - That’s how she got here in the first place. That is why she walked and explored it. She wants to see it.

Grandma was the one who adopted Lucille’s son with Jongin. Her uncle Delfin. “I still remember vivid memories of running with Delfin as we got out of Chalamaria. Delfin was very small at that time.” Stella told Paula.

Ah… The polluted air of Manila. It has been a while since I saw Manila. I live in the US now. Manila is a big place, yet I don’t remember it being like this. - Maybe it’s jet lag that’s making her think that way. She held tightly on my luggage. Waiting for a taxi to get me to the bus station. Her parents refused to come with her. When the taxi arrived, it was a long ride from the airport to the hotel. She opened her phone and listened to music. Ah… She always loved the music of the 50s.

When she arrived at the bus station, she doesn’t where she’s going. She got inside the bus. She opened her phone and listened to music again. She grabbed her wallet and she smiled as she was holding her grandma’s wedding picture. She can see the woman’s smile on the picture. The bus ride was longer than the taxi. Yet it gave her rest. When she sees the lush agricultural area of her country.

When the excruciatingly long bus ride was over, she immediately had a sigh of relief as she held her small luggage with her backpack. “Where is the town of Chalamaria?” She asked the people around the nearby town. “Ask the elders. Haven’t heard that name since.” The college student said. She walked more into the town. She asked more people around. People around the nearby village always told her that the enchanted forest was a dangerous place that no one should go to. - Let alone a young and untested eighteen-year-old. She couldn't care less. She just wants this Jongin to fill in the cracks in their beautiful love story. She has so many questions unanswered by my grandmother. Anxiety started rushing in her veins. Then, only one woman came in to answer her.

“Hello?” She asked an elderly woman. The woman seemed to not hear her and continued on stirring her ube halaya. - A Filipino jam made out of purple yam, milk, and sugar. The smell is very familiar as her grandma used to make it for her. The thing definitely smelled like sweet childhood memories.

“Hello?!” She said it one more time, louder. “Yes, darling?” The woman replied. “Do you know where Chalamaria is?” She asked the lady. The woman smiled bitterly, it looked like a bad memory went to her. “Yes. According to legends, Chalamaria is a town that existed 70 years ago. It was burnt by the Japanese. Everything was gone except the ruins of the big mansion. It’s filled with monsters. Nobody wants to ever go there.” She didn’t care. Those aren’t real. - She assured herself.

The old woman continued speaking. “Women are not allowed to enter that area.” She said to Paula. “Why?” Paula was beyond curious about why she’d say that or the fact Chalamaria doesn’t exist on google maps at all. Any map she sees, no results. Sometimes she feels her grandma is lying to her. But, there is a historical text of the said town.

“I’d still go.” She said to the elder. The elder was shocked to hear what she said. "What is she thinking?" The old woman mumbled and went back to stirring her halaya. “Young people these days…” “I never saw someone as determined as her. Well, maybe this will be the last time I will see her.”

"Why?" She asked the woman. She was stopped in her tracks. "If you're a virgin, it's a bigger warning. Virgin young girls never make it alive. We even call it the virgin paradise. Because of the virgins that never leave.” The old lady continued. When she heard of that, Paula’s heart raced even more. Knowing her grandma survived Chalamaria, she can as well. Her grandma was the only virgin who did not die on the island.

“Minseok knew that Lucille doesn’t love him.” Grandma always said. She feels pity for my grandfather, but at the same time, I feel sad for my grandma who never met her lover again. It was a pity for grandma to know they were never destined to each other.

“Before I met Junmyeon, I met a man named Kim Jongin. He was handsome, he’s a Korean man living in our country during the Japanese occupation. I was with Lucille. She fell in love with him the first sight.” The story was as old as time as I would say. She always held onto her memories. Many say Jongin is dead, but she never believed it. It still can't wrap around her head why a stupid man like Jongin would leave her grandma.

“He was incredibly handsome. Even as old as I am, I still vividly remember his beautifully sculpted form, his kissable lips, golden complexion, his irresistible charm, everything about him. He’s probably dead by now. I never went back to the forest where I found him… old age as well as he never wanted me to go back.” She always tells her. Gosh, she can be an erotica writer just by the way she describes him. It's such a pity I never got to meet this man. - Paula thought.

As Lucille died, and in accordance with Stella’s wishes, she told Paula to go back to the mansion and wear the wedding dress while doing so. - Well, that's why Paula is walking in the forest in a white 40's wedding dress while wearing her grandma's pearl necklace. Given by Jongin to Stella. She truly looked like her grandma. She was just as beautiful as the former was. "The wedding dress was the dress Stella wore before letting him go. It was the dress." That was from her grandma’s words.

Her grandma never had enough time to tell her the whole story. Why did Jongin also give her things if Lucille was his true love? Why is grandma thinking of him like that if they’re only friends? There are many burning questions in Paula’s head. The story has so many holes. So many unanswered questions she wants answers. And what better way to hear that than hearing it from the man himself.

Then, that's why she packed her bags and decided over a three day Journey. Rain or shine, she walked through it all. She was always reminded by Grandma's warnings. "Do not take a picture of the house." She is literally going on a journey to nowhere. This place is closed by the government. Nobody knew of this place's existence.

As she started walking, she saw something. A ruined sign with rust and termite. “Welcome to Chalamaria.” She read the sign as she touched each letter. A faint smile appeared in her face. She furrowed her brows and opened the rusted golden gate. The town is filled with ruins. - Oh, so that’s Chalamaria, an early 1900s luxury town. - She thought to herself. She walked passed all the mansions and she saw a graffiti that said “BURN THE RICH” the graffiti seems old.

I want to see if this Jongin is still alive. I can feel he still is even if I never met him. It’s not a jump of blood because I am not related to him. Then, while walking in the vast and beautiful landscapes, I saw something. Is this it? Is this his house? I saw the house was rotten, it looked like ruins. It has aged through time, so I took a picture of the house, admiring the beauty it has.

Even if it was old. She did that, disregarding her grandma's advice. She was curious. She looked closer at it and saw an old skeleton wearing a suit and slacks with blood like the one in the old photo her grandma told her to treasure. Is this the Jongin? She knew he'd be dead but not in this horrific way. Jongin died 80 years ago. The day Lucille got married to him. Looking at the skull, the man was hit with a missile or a bomb of some sort.

Suddenly the clouds started pushing back, like a rewind at a super-fast rate. It felt like someone was pressing the switch multiple times over and over again. The skull wearing a suit just magically disappeared. She looked at her watch and it started suddenly pushing back time. She started looking at the surroundings "What the fuck is going on?" She asked herself as the skies suddenly go back and the house almost started repairing itself. Maybe this is why her grandma always told her not to get a picture of that house. She saw her phone not being able to open.

It looked like a flipbook right in front of her eyes. She never thought she'd ever see something as beautiful as this one ever in her lifetime. She can't believe that the stories her grandmother told is true. The story that got her grandma labeled as crazy from the day she went back to the village as she started telling everyone. Everyone believed Jongin wasn't real, in fact, he is. Right here and there.

Maybe this is why no one wants to go to the enchanted forest. - She thought to herself as she slowly walked. Holding firm to her backpack, she suddenly felt something was off as she saw a gated mansion. Her grandma told many great stories about this mansion. Her adventures with Lucille. She looked at her phone about that mansion. It was supposed to be rotten, filled with leaves and it was supposed to be old. - But the mansion in front of her looked new. It looked exactly like in the pictures but new.

She decided to open the golden gate and give it a knock. “Is there anyone here?” She asked nicely. Then suddenly, someone opened the door. She was shocked to see him. A man wearing a tailored suit, looking at his Rolex. He had a beautiful golden tan complexion. He has very soft and kissable lips, beautiful almond eyes. Is he Jongin or this is a fucking joke? He's supposed to be dead by now. What the hell? - She thought to herself.

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lotustories · 5 years

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Sincerely, Yours.

Lie To Me Sequel

Pairing: Yoongi x F. Reader (maybe others)

Type: angst, fluff, smut

Warnings: mentions of sex, alcohol use, and vulgar language

Chapter navigation

Chapter 4

The constant shouting from the kitchen woke you up, the boys arguing over something you couldn’t quite hear. You slipped your slippers on and made your way to the kitchen to investigate what they were yelling about. “Stop fucking screaming.” You groaned, rubbing your temples at the headache developing . You saw jungkook freezing at the sound of your voice, his body tensing. “Yoongi wants to go out of town this Friday, it’s game night.” Taehyung argued, your eyes looking at them both and back to seokjin who seemed over the whole thing. “yn hasnt been at a game night in over a year, why is it a problem now.” Yoongi snapped. “Because it’s different and you know that.” Namjoon spoke softly. “Jess wants to go—“ you rolled your eyes as you went to grab coffee for yourself. Yoongi seeing your reaction making him stop to speak to you. “What the fuck was that for yn?” He spoke, eyebrows furrowed. “What was what?” You answered back, your eyes focused on the coffee you were pouring. “You rolled your eyes before I could even say where I was going.” He waited for your answer, “nothing, I just know better than to try and stop one of you from leaving us for your girlfriends.” Your eyes met him and he looked down, remembering the whole fight with hoseok. “If you had a boyfriend you wouldn’t leave him for us?” Yoongi tried to make a point but none of the boys cared for it. “If I ever had to chose between any of you and a man, I’d always chose you guys.” You retorted, Yoongi waving away your response. “You don’t understand, you don’t have anyone to compare this to.” He whispered, your heart clenched slightly but you remained emotionless. “I got into the university yn is at.” Taehyung said with a sad expression. “I was going to tell everyone Friday, but Yoongi won’t be there so might as well say it now.” He shrugged as if the news was unimportant. “That’s amazing, taehyung I told you that your art was good enough!” You hugged him and he held you back. “Don’t do that, don’t make me feel like shit. Jess loves you all, but I want to do something special for her birthday.” Yoongi pouted. “I love her, she deserves that.” You were cutting strawberries and when you heard those words slip from his mouth you accidentally cut your finger. “Fuck.” You cried, seokjin cursing after you as he grabbed the nearest rag to cover your finger. “Are you okay?” Jungkook jumped up, his arm wrapping around your waist from behind to take you to the bathroom. you sat on the toilet while jungkook grabbed the first aid kit to wrap your wound. His hands holding yours gently. “Does it hurt? I don’t think you need stitches.” He whispered as he pressed the cotton ball against the cut. “It hurts, but I’ll live.” You stared up at him, his big doe eyes so focused on your finger. “You still love him, don’t you?” Jungkook didn’t meet your eyes, his finger wrapping the bandage around your wound gently. “I feel like we had different meanings for a break.” You answered and he smiled and closed his eyes while he spoke. “Please don’t use me.” He kept his eyes closed as he exhaled. His hands still on yours, your eyes immediately widening slightly and you lifted yourself up to stand with him. Cupping his face as you made him look at you. “Baby, I would never.” Your hands still cupping his face as he pouted slightly. “Last night, i acted on my impulses and i am sorry if I made you think that i would use you against him.” Your thumb caressing his cheek. “It feels wrong for me, I don’t know if it’s because you dated him or if I’m scared to let myself like you. ” He paused “I just feel bad.” You nodded and smiled at him. “Then I will behave. I haven’t been with anyone since him, you were there and I trust you so I acted, I’m sorry.” You removed your hands from his face and looked at him fondly. “You’re going to make someone very happy one day, you were raised perfectly. I hope you know that ggukie, don’t be afraid to love.” You swiped your fingers underneath his chin. “do not do anything you don’t want to do.” He stared for a moment and have a slight nod. “Thank you.” He smiled at you.

When you walked back to the kitchen seokjin raised his eyebrows, “it took that long to put a bandaid on?” He teases and you shrugged. “We had a very nice talk.” You retorted and he laughed. “Oh really about what?” You walked past him to grab your coffee again. “no more sucking his dick.” You said as if it was normal. A collective sounds of choking on drinks sounding the room. “Yn!” Jungkook shocked at your bluntness. “okay, rewind. Explain?” Hoseok laughed as he looked between the two of you. “You gave him head?” Yoongi asked his voice strained slightly. you looked at him for a moment and then the rest of the boys who stared at you in shock. Poor jungkook eating his food while his cheeks burned a red. You rolled your eyes and sighed. “unimportant now.” You waved them off but they just turned to jungkook. “Explain.” They pushed and he pulled his lip between his teeth as he sighed. “It was when we were watching the movie.” Hoseoks head snapping back to you. “in front of us!” He laughed “technically behind you.” You joked and he snorted. “I already apologized to him, I didn’t mean to use him.” You said ashamed and he smiled. “use me.” Hoseok leaned over, smirking as you glared him down. “I’m still confused.” Seokjin shook his head. “About?” Namjoon answered. “yn sucked Jungkook’s dick, how is that confusing.” They were all too comfortable with each other, poor jungkook looked like he was gonna burst from embarrassment. “but why?” Seokjin added. “Oh my god, because i was horny and jungkook got hot. I would rather fuck him than some random from a club.” You defended yourself and he nodded. “fair enough.” Yoongi laughed a little too loudly, your head snapped to him and you could tell he was pissed. “What?” You glared. “Nothing, just think this is funny.” He shrugged, his asshole persona shining through. “what is?” You were confused, he ran his tongue along his cheek and shrugged. “just that you have no respect for yourself or me to fuck someone not in this house.” You we’re taken back by his comment. He walked off before you could answer but even if he hadn’t, you didn’t have anything to say. “hey, don’t listen to him.” Jungkook spoke up. “You are not the bad guy here.” He had such a sad look in his eyes. “lets go to the farmers market today, I know you love picking their flowers.” Hoseok reached over to hold your hand but you pulled away. “That sounds fun, let me get ready.” You have a half smile and headed to seokjin’s room. You were about to pass the bathroom but Yoongi came out first, standing in front of you half naked as you tried to move past him without saying a word. He grabbed your hand to stop you. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have said that.” He apologized but you pulled your hand away. “It’s fine.” You refused to look at him, pushing past him quickly to get to seokjins room. maybe staying with them wasn’t the best idea anymore. You put on one of your dresses and pinned your hair back. Taehyung, jungkook, hoseok, and Jimin all ready and waiting for you on the couch. “Oh, all of us?” You questioned as they gave a sigh of relief to see you finally done getting ready. “Where is everyone going?” Yoongi appeared behind you, you moved away quickly and he noticed. His face falling a bit. “Farmers market, yn likes their flowers and funnel cake.” Jungkook chirped. “am I invited?” He asked, Jungkook’s eyes going to you for an answer. “I don’t care,” you shrugged, heading for the door first to get into the car. You sat in the backseat, as hoseok entered to your left and Yoongi on your right. Fiddling with the hem of your dress you waited for everyone to get in. “You look beautiful today.” Hoseok whispered in your ear, your eyes staring at his mouth for a moment before thanking him for his compliment. The farmers market wasn’t far from where you guys lived, it was a short drive, hell you could’ve walked there. You walked down the path with hoseok, resisting the urge to stop at every table.

An hour later, an hour of walking and spending money you shouldn’t have, hoseok had disappeared from you for a moment only to return with a mini sunflower. Your favorite flower. “Young lady, would you like to be painted with your boyfriend?” An elderly lady stopped you, her paintbrush in hands as she stared you down with soft eyes. “Yes, we would.” Hoseok answered before you could correct her, she smiled happily as she led you to the chair. There was only one seat, it was why she picked you two. Hoseok sat down first and pulled you on top of his lap, his hand around you waist as he adjusted you to smile at the elderly women. “Look at each other, please.” She motioned her hands, and you obeyed. Looking down at hoseok as he looked up, something in those romance movies where they feel like nobody else in the world could see them. “How long will this take?” You called out, not moving your eyes from hoseok. “Just hold on dear,” her sing song voice echoed as he smiled up at you. “You seem awfully happy.” You joked, you could feel him getting slightly hard underneath you. “The most beautiful girl in the world on my lap and a nice lady painting me and my ‘girlfriend’” he paused. “I couldn’t be happier.” You can’t quiet remember how long it took, but it was worth it. The painting was beautiful and almost as if it was painted by a famous painter. “Oh my god, it’s beautiful.” You pointed at the photo, careful not to touch any part of it. “She put the sunflowers in our hair.” You pouted, you each had a sunflower on your head. One of the most beautiful paintings you had ever seen. “I’ll ship it to you when you go back to school.” He frowned and then you realized that in a couple of months, you will be gone. Leaving once again, this time with taehyung, but it felt devastating. “Hey, what’s wrong?” He wiped away the small tear you hadn’t realized fell. “I don’t want to go back,” You cried softly. “But I also don’t want to stay.” You hiccuped. Choking on your soft cries as you tried not to draw attention. You could see the boy noticing from a few steps away causing them to walk over. “but taehyung is going and i can’t leave him.” You wiped away the tears angrily. “Hey,” he cupped your face, forcing you to meet his eyes. “You don’t have to go back, you don’t have to stay here either.” His tone very stern. “You Can live your life, if you want to travel, then travel. This is your life.” He smiles while his thumbs wiped away any tears that fell. “you say how it plays out.” His hands pulled you toward him, his lips pressing to your forehead and then he pulled you into the tightest hug you had in a while. “You okay?” Yoongi stood next to you now, you only gave a small nod before you walked back to the car.

It soon grew dark, seokjin and Namjoon had decided to start a fire in the backyard. Seokjin grilling who knows what and Namjoon drunkenly singing while seated on the pool chair. “We brought veggies if you wanna grill those too?” Jungkook held the bag up and seokjin gave a nod, the youngest running off to the kitchen wash them. “hi guys!” Jess’ voice caused everyone to turn their heads to the living room. She walked over to you, embracing you in the longest hug ever. You hadn’t realized your necklace had gotten caught until she stop mid pull, squealing as her necklace hung to yours. “Ow!” She cried, Yoongi trying to help you both out but the necklaces wouldn’t unlatch. “just break them!” She pulled on hers but it still wouldn’t budge. “No! Do not break mine.” You motioned at the air. “Just unhook mine from the back.” You lifted your hair up and yoongi went to unhook it. His fingertips trailing along the back of your neck while he tried to open the latch. “I’ll try to untangle them.” He said once it was off you, when you noticed his eyes on Jess, you realized he wasn’t talking to you. “I’m going to change.” You whispered before walking away. Changing into something more comfortable, you walked back to the kitchen where Jess sat on top of yoongi. Everyone’s eyes on Namjoon as he told a story. “it was that time yn and yo-“ You cut him off as he nearly exposed your past with yoongi. “your friend Matthew, hoseok. Remember?” You pleaded for him to back you up and he did. Namjoon looking at you both confused but gave a small laugh before continuing his story. “I miss this, i miss everyone together.” Namjoon didn’t even finish his story, he had been blabbering for minutes now but you all let him. The boys somewhat dispersed from the kitchen into the living room or backyard. You were making yourself a drink and hadn’t even realized it was only you, yoongi, and Jess. “I’m going to change. I’ll be back baby.” You could hear her kiss him as you squeezed the lemon into your drink. “Here,” he slid your necklace to you. You had forgotten about it. Slight panic going through you. “You didn’t open it did you?” You asked and he just stared back, shaking his head. “No.” He watched you put it around your neck and gave a soft smile. This was probably the first time you both looked into each other’s eyes in a while. You gave a short nod before going past him, his hand catching your arm making you spill your drink slightly. “Why do you wear it still?” He asked, your eyes staring at him in slight shock. He looked at it. “it doesn’t matter.” You shrugged, his hand never letting go. “You didn’t want me to break it either.” He added, “yoongi it doesn’t matter anymore.” You pulled your arm back but he only held tighter. “Then why wear it?” He was slightly drunk, you could smell it on his breath. “baby, i have to go. my sister and her boyfriend got in a fight.” Jess entered, Yoongi let go and you walked off to the living room, plopping yourself next to hoseok as they watched tv. At some point everyone fell asleep and you wandered off to bed, taking your bra off and pulling the covers off the bed you didn’t even hear the door open and close until you were about to lie down. “Jesus fucking Christ.” You jumped, Yoongi standing at the doorway silently. “You scared the shit out of me.” You furrowed your brows, Yoongi walked closer, slowly. Careful to not scare you. “Why do you wear it?” He asked again. You sighed and rolled your eyes at him. “It doesn’t matter. Go away I’m tired.” You walked toward the door to push him out. “Answer that and I will.” He stood his ground, too strong to push out. “no, now go.” You kept pushing, but still no luck. He kept asking and asking until you snapped. Your voice a low tone, careful not to wake anyone. “Because It’s all I have of you!” He stared at you silently. “How long have you had that?” He asked and you decided to cooperate.

He leaned his back against the door. “you wore a locket of us for an entire year?” He laughed lightly. “What did your boyfriends think of it?” He joked, but you didn’t take it as one. “I didn’t have boyfriends.” Your tone was mean now. You didn’t want to talk about any of this. “wait, what?” His head snapped up, shocked by your answer. “Not one?” And you shook your head, ashamed of the way he was looking at you. “why not?” He added and you rolled your eyes. “I’m not in the mood to talk about this with you, please just leave.” You pushed at him softly, but he grabbed your hand. “did you really wait?” He paused, “like your friend said over the phone.” He whispered. You could feel the tears rising up and you didn’t want him to see. “Yoongi, get out.” You repeated. “we need to talk about this.” He defended and your laugh startled him. “You’re fucking kidding right?” You scoffed, he shook his head but you only grew angrier. “I have been here two fucking months, I have been ignored, I have been hidden from your girlfriend, and you see that i wear a necklace with us inside and now you want to talk.” You shook your head. “get the fuck out.” His eyes turning sad. “Im not trying to fight or upset you.” He stepped forward. “fuck you, fuck your pity,” your hand reached up to the necklace and you ripped it off. “And fuck this necklace.” You started walking to the bathroom and he knew what you were going to do. “Don’t!” He yelled quietly. Grabbing it from your hands as he held it away. “We both don’t like dealing with our feelings, you of all people should understand why I didn’t want to talk about this.” you shrugged. “I didn’t expect anything when I came back. I waited because I never stopped loving you. I’m glad you’re happy, now we have nothing else to talk about.” You calmed down. Yoongi frowning at you wiping away your tears. “give me back my necklace.” You stick your hand out but he refused. “So you can flush it? No.” He stuck it in his pocket and you grew angry again. “Who cares what happens to it, just give it.” He stepped to you. “Why are you so fucking angry, I’m trying to be a good person and talk to you and you’re acting like a fucking child.” He snapped, “I’m not hoseok. You’re not going to be an asshole to me because you don’t want to deal with your fucking feelings.” He snarled, his inches away from yours. “Just go find your fucking girlfriend and give me my necklace.” You fired back, his eyes growing angry. “Go fuck one of the guys.” He fired back. A small gasp leaving your lips “Fuck you!” Yoongi catching your hands before you could push him. “Fuck you!” He snarled, his hands around your wrist tightly. Your faces inches from each other. This fight was no longer about talking. You both could feel the tension, your chests rising up and down as your faces were inches apart. but you were saved by the bell. Yoongi’s phone ran and he let go of your hands to answer. You could hear her voice ring through the other end. Before you knew it he was gone and you were left dealing with feelings you didn’t want to deal with.

Two more months. You just need to make it through that.

#bts au #min yoongi #jung hoseok #jung jungkook #kim namjoon #kim seokjin #kim taehyung #park jimin #bts #yoongi au #min yoongi angst #yoongi angst

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dalekofchaos · 5 years

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Rachel’s Story, Life Is Strange:The Storm

I think what we need is a game that tells us Rachel’s story. After watching Twin Peaks:Fire Walk With Me, it made me think we need Rachel’s story told. What happened to Rachel was tragic, but it needs to be told. So here are things I want to see in a hypothetical LIS game where we play as Rachel Amber.

The best way to continue the story of Arcadia Bay. It would be the next logical step. Playing as Rachel would give us a new fresh angle, and set the stage for the original where we play once again as Max. It would be a fitting end to this LiS/BtS story and give us closure to Rachel’s character. And honestly, Chloe works better as a supporting character because Deck Nine did not understand Chloe Price.

Rachel’s ability. Where Max has the ability to rewind, Chloe can backtalk. I think Rachel's will be to fit into place and to convince everyone to do what she wants. It’s perfect for her and her personality.

Set Rachel’s character in line to the original game. Rachel Amber has charisma, intelligence, beauty and a lot of attitude, which would make the game full of action and dynamic. Her past is still mysterious, and playing as Rachel would be the right choice.

Make it clear that Rachel has completely severed ties with James and Rose. Telling Rachel the truth is the canon ending. Choosing hide the truth is completely stupid, the fact that hide the truth has a higher percentage with the fandom is laughable. Rachel has no good relationship with her parents by the events of LIS anyway. So what I will do is this. Rachel has completely severed ties with her parents and only chooses to be in contact with Sera. We will find out that Sera chose to go into rehab one final time for Rachel. This is why James and Rose refuse to believe that Rachel is even missing and the DA doesn’t even orders a search looking for his daughter.

Continuing our relationship with Chloe. Have it mentioned that Rachel and Chloe have been in a relationship since 2010. Show them kissing more, show Chloe and Rachel setting up Chloe’s room, show them partying, show them dancing, show them having sex and just showing them declaring their love for each other and showing them in love. Rachel was Chloe’s Santa Monica Dream. They loved each other, and I want their relationship to be shown more.

Let it finally be about Rachel helping Chloe. Rachel helping lift Chloe through the worse point of her life. If Rachel had stopped Chloe from committing suicide… as was the commonly believed interpretation to what happened between Chloe and Rachel up until BtS, then Chloe’s ”“she was my angel” would have meant it was truly special and real. Chloe and Rachel together having fun rocking out and Chloe starting to live again and show that Chloe Price loves Rachel Amber and Rachel loves Chloe.

Rachel’s antagonism with David and David’s paranoia for Rachel. Once again I have to make it clear. Chloe and David do not and should not have a good relationship and Joyce normalizing an abusive step-father is not a good thing. David does not understand nor does he care about Chloe’s depression and grief for losing William and Max moving away. Show that David physically, mentally and emotionally abuses her. Joyce normalizes it. So what I would have happen is this will be the first official time David will catch Chloe with weed. David slaps Chloe and Rachel is there to see it. Rachel has had it. Rachel puts her fucking foot down. “IF YOU EVER LAY YOUR FUCKING HAND ON MY GIRLFRIEND EVER AGAIN, I WILL CALL MY DAD, THE DA AND ARREST YOUR ASS FOR CHILD ABUSE. DON’T EVER TOUCH CHLOE AGAIN.” Rachel was so mad, she threatened to pull the James card. This is what enrages David to the point of installing cameras in his own home without Chloe or Joyce’s consent and getting a job as Blackwell’s head of security. He does not trust Chloe and Rachel and thinks because she dared to defend Chloe, that Rachel is “a bad influence” Stop trying to make us feel bad for this abusive piece of shit and make Chloe out to be the villain for not giving this asshole a chance. He emotionally, mentally and physically abuses her and joyce normalizes it, violates her privacy. David makes Chloe feel like a prisoner in her own home. The safe home that Chloe has lived in all her life is no longer safe the “safe” home that Chloe should have had was in fact a place where she didn’t feel safe, did not have privacy, and was harassed whenever David was home. She frequently would go to American Rust to sleep (because whatever happened with Rachel, it wasn’t safe to stay with her). She couldn’t even rely on her teachers to report child abuse because the police were sympathetic toward David and refused to act… and then David ended up getting a job as a security guard at Blackwell Academy and that one last safe place, school, was now the domain of her abuser. So Chloe would get herself expelled just to get free from David. Whenever he is around she does not feel safe. He makes her so afraid that she feels like she’s living with a Nazi. They are not meant to have a good relationship. And it really sent an awful message that “you must be nice to your future abuser just to make your mother happy” What kind of abuse apologetic bullshit was that? The worst part is that Joyce chose her own happiness for the safety and well being of her own daughter. Joyce enabled an abusive stepfather and ignored her daughter being hit and verbally abused (and there is a word for that: culpability. Joyce is guilty of child abuse. If we do not back up Chloe in episode 1 and we tell Joyce David hit Chloe, Joyce just brushes it off like it’s not a big deal. Joyce betrayed her own daughter by always choosing David over her. She never stopped the abuse. The only time she did anything is when Max was a witness and even then she doesn’t see it as a problem, more of an inconvenience. When she finally does kick David out, it’s not because David abuses her daughter, it’s because David put up cameras without her permission. “I just want us to be a family” if anything show us that Rachel was the only one who was truly there for Chloe.

Make it clear everything Rachel was doing with Frank and Jefferson is so Rachel could’ve escaped to LA with Chloe. Rachel was looking for a way out of Arcadia Bay. She first thought both her and Chloe can escape to LA together. But over time she did not think that was possible anymore. Chloe dodges her car payments and her family is in debt and Chloe is in debt to Frank. She still wants to leave with Chloe, but Rachel needed an alternative way so she and Chloe can escape. So that’s when Rachel turns to Frank, she used him for his money and drugs because as time goes on, Rachel turns to drugs to numb the pain. She parties with The Vortex Club and as Nathan said “Rachel partied like a fiend on her own.” Hell, she was so desperate to leave Arcadia Bay she even asked the trucker to take her to LA. But I believe everything she was doing, she was doing so She and Chloe can get out of Arcadia Bay. The vibe I got from the first game is that Rachel and Chloe have this very important and special bond. But Rachel just wanted to be free of Arcadia Bay by any means necessary. Rachel would go far to get what she wanted. Someone who is willing to lie to the people she cared about to satisfy her own needs and goals. Personally, I see Rachel as being okay with manipulating everybody BUT Chloe, which gives everybody a foothold to try and gaslight Chloe and Max about her, trying to get them to doubt that Rachel genuinely cared about Chloe. And she did. Rachel Amber loved Chloe Price and had genuine feelings for Chloe and wanted to escape together.

Explore Rachel’s connections. Explore Rachel’s connections in Blackwell. Her rivalry and falling out with Victoria. Show that Victoria has respect and adoration for Rachel, but as Jeffershit showed more favor and adoration for Rachel, than her, then Victoria turned on Rachel. Evidence of the graffiti in Blackwell shows that Victoria bullied Rachel Amber and spread rumors about Rachel. So Rachel decided to be bigger than the Vortex Club to spite Victoria. Rachel and Nathan’s relationship. I think they had a close friendship. Nathan harbored feelings for Rachel, but he knew she loved Chloe. I see Rachel as the one good thing Nathan had in Arcadia Bay, the closest thing he had to a good connection since his sister Kristine. She made him feel good about himself and soothed him without the need of hearing whale sounds. Rachel was Nathan’s safe space. As for how they both got involved with the Dark Room. It started out innocent. They both saw this as a private photo project and Rachel’s chance at being a model. It turned dark. I believe that Nathan tried to help Rachel and in doing this, resulted in Jeffershit overdosing Rachel and dosing Nathan and posing Nathan with Rachel’s dead body as punishment and was planning on pinning Rachel on Nathan. But it turned dark. When Rachel disappeared, Nathan lost it. When he saw Max in Rachel’s clothes, he hoped it really was Rachel, but he knew it wasn’t her. Rachel and Frank. I believe Rachel was just using Frank for money, Frank was obviously attracted to Rachel on their first meeting, but they never interacted and Rachel only wanted to find Sera. I think they first became close because Frank saved Chloe and Sera. Rachel isn’t the manipulative monster some people make her out to be. Rachel only wanted to escape Arcadia Bay with Chloe, she had no intention of leaving her behind, Rachel loved Chloe Price. She only wanted money out of Frank. What Nathan says is more likely. Rachel was only there for the stash and gave him photos in return. “everyone knows Frank is a liar and loser, even Rachel did” and there was a falling out between Frank and Rachel, plus Frank’s blood oath for Rachel must have creeped her out. And in her letter, Rachel ended it. “Frank, That was not cool what you did. And don't blame the drugs. You actually scared me and I thought you'd never chill out. I've never seen you act that way and the next time will be the last. I'm a Leo and we don't look back. I care about you, us, so maybe we need to break our routine.“ Also when the meeting with Frank goes wrong, Chloe will say she loved Rachel and she knows Rachel loved her. Frank will act hostile and possessive of Rachel “Chloe, you don’t know shit. You were part of her problem. Always trying to take her away from me… Always!” I believe that Frank had an unhealthy attachment to Rachel and Rachel did care for Frank, but Rachel just wanted a way out of Arcadia Bay for her and Chloe Then, Rachel meets Mark Jefferson. Jefferson was Rachel’s teacher. This video explains Rachel and Jefferson perfectly. Rachel saw him as her way to LA. She wanted to have her pictures modeled by a professional, which he was, but Rachel never saw him for what he was. A sheep in wolf’s clothing, a monster. He saw her as the perfect subject. A human chameleon with many visual possibilities and he felt they had a connection. Manipulating her into believing that he is the father figure that James never was for her. Rachel wrote a letter to Chloe in the shack but discarded it. She feels that he changed her life but the discarded letter shows that she felt ashamed about the whole relationship. "C. You can tell how much I want you to read this letter since I've been dragging my ass to give it to you. Maybe I just want you to find it when I'm not around so we never have to talk about it. And I don't want you to hate me. Where to start?I met somebody recently who's so different from the lame Vortex Club snobs. I know you'll have a meltdown when I tell you and think he's gross, but I swear he's wise and unconventional. Kind of scary, not in a "bad boy" way. He's just experienced some serious shit. Yes, I'm kinda obssessed (sic). I won't blame you for freaking.Maybe I know you're right and this just has to be my secret.I hate not sharing this with you except I know you'd give me that stink eye and grill me for every stupid detail. If I even told you that last night we hooked up near campus (...)" Her shame indicates that she was apart of the Dark Room as a consenting subject. At first she just saw it as a big photography project outside of school, but then Rachel started to look into Jefferson’s past models and figured out something was terribly wrong. In Jefferson’s own words “Not like Rachel, who was always looking in the wrong places. Poor Rachel.” Jefferson of course finds out because The Dark Room is under 24 hours surveillance. So out of fear of Rachel telling everyone, Jefferson kills Rachel, doses Nathan and poses Nathan’s unconscious body with Rachel’s lifeless body. Stella believes they had sex, but I think it is more than likely that Jeffershit dosed her and raped her. He said “Rachel was in love with me” but how is there any truth to that? All Jefferson has done the entire game is manipulate and gaslight. There was no love, there was just Jefferson’s sick and twisted perverted Dark Room project. Rachel wanted a way out and she thought she had her way out, but in the end she played with fire and got burned. He killed her and blamed it on Nathan. But since Sera was meant to have powers, I believe that Rachel had powers passed down to her. I believe that Rachel’s death is what causes the storm. The storm is what Chloe said, Rachel’s revenge. And in my opinion somehow her spirit gave Max the powers to save Chloe cause she wanted to destroy the town but she wanted Chloe to be safe so she gave the powers to Max so she could save Chloe from the storm.

Rachel is the storm. The death of Chloe caused Max to get rewind powers. When Rachel gets emotional enough. She has the power to unleash destructive weather controlling power. The thing is though, it turns out that her father wasn't involved with just some random mistress. More importantly though, we know of an event that is emotionally traumatizing enough for Rachel to unleash this kind of power. Because something unfathomably, fridge horror worse, happens to her than simply witnessing her father cheat. She gets kidnapped, sexually humiliated, drugged, and killed. Like the other victims of Jefferson, that is some dark side of reality shit right there. So it's very appropriate. An innocent girl gets violated tremendously and murdered, but this time, it's one with supernatural power. Hence supernatural consequences. This would mean that to whatever extent Chaos Theory was relevant. It had very little to do with anything Max did. In actuality it was more to hint at a string of consequences brought on by Jefferson and the Prescotts. In fact this was already pretty obvious in the first season, except it makes infinitely more sense now. Just with the first season alone, one was left to think this was some sort of Indian voodoo shit and that Chloe was just some sort of sacrifice to appease the Gods. But now we know, it's because of the original victim central to this story. Rachel Amber. The reason Chloe dying seems to appease the storm is because it results in retributive justice against Rachel's abusers. See another thing this ties in, is the Prescott family's impact on the environment. Something so strongly lathered on in the first season, with no inexplicable explanation when we are otherwise led to believe that the storm is caused by Max specifically. If the Prescott family essentially gets banished from Arcadia Bay right from the beginning. They don't influence the environment in exactly the way Rachel needs to harness the kind of power she does. So even though Rachel may still desire revenge against Arcadia. The forces of nature do not afford her such destruction if the Prescotts are busted early on. It's most likely a combination of her powers, and the forces of nature being contorted enough by the Prescotts polluting the environment, that creates the hurricane. Think about it. We are not even remotely told that simply, Chloe dying is what appeases the storm. Rather specifically what we are really told is that Max opens up certain options by the end of the first season. After finding out everything, she can go back and be a witness to Chloe's murder. Allowing her to bust Nathan Prescott, and Jefferson. If it was the other way around, it doesn't make sense. Because why would Nathan or Jefferson get in trouble at all if Max wasn't there? Nobody would know who killed Chloe, there would be no evidence. As well especially, Jefferson would have never got caught in the slightest. So ultimately, Max essentially strips Rachel of her venom so to speak. By time Nathan and Jefferson face consequences in the timeline where you choose to save Chloe. The chain of events have already led up to the Storm forming. So it can't be stopped. The environment has been polluted, etc. In fact there's no reason to believe that Rachel herself can STOP the storm. What we see with her powers is that she can unleash... chaos. Particularly of the weather variety. But she probably couldn't stop that forest fire if she had wanted to. It was most likely set in stone during the moments when she was being violated by Jefferson. That's when she probably experienced enough trauma for something like that to be set in motion. But after having passed away, she probably can't reverse the trajectory of things herself. That's where Max comes in, because she's a living participant. So she can mitigate Rachel's domino effect. Like a "Shield of Time", Max can simultaneously protect Arcadia Bay from Rachel's wrath, while simultaneously appeasing her by bringing justice to those who wronged her.

Rachel is the Doe. In the final moments of the game. After Rachel’s death, we would see a scene similar to the nightmare scene in episode 5. But it’s basically Rachel relooking over her life and finally passing on. Rachel would pass on as the Spirit Doe, to guide Max and Chloe to the truth. The first official time we see the Doe, we see it in Max’s nightmare. In the nightmare whenever we see it, the storm rages on. The first normal time we see the doe, we see the Doe where we find Rachel. Rachel guides Max multiple times. She doesn’t manifest for Chloe… only Max. Max’s rewind power does not work on the Doe, meaning that it is a spirit. Rachel was able to manifest to Max in a form Max would not find threatening. But however or whyever Rachel chose to manifest as the Doe to Max, what we definitely know is that the Doe was guiding and helping Max - both to lead her and Chloe to her grave, and then afterward in the Nightmare to bring Max to a place where she could escape. And then, we see Chloe finding Rachel’s remains. Chloe grieving for her lover and best friend, and the Doe looks sad and finally disappears and finds peace.

#Life Is Strange #Rachel Amber #Amberprice #Chloe Price #Nathan Prescott #Victoria Chase #Frank Bowers #Mark Jefferson

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