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rmnamjoons · 4 years

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Taking Flight [KNJ Oneshot]

➳ summary: More than a decade after the alien invasion that wiped out most of the planet, you and Namjoon are both in the Pilot Cadet Corps, training for if the alien attackers ever come back. What begins as a playful rivalry between two overachievers develops into a deep friendship and emotional bond, but when the aliens suddenly return and you and Namjoon are separated, you find out just what you’re willing to do to get back to him.

➳ pairing: pilot!Namjoon x pilot!reader

➳ genre: smut, sci fi au, post apocalypse au, alien invasion au, rivals to friends to lovers

➳ word count: 15.2k

➳ read on ao3, link to my masterlist

➳ tags: smut, reunion sex, oral (f receiving), fingering, emotional loving sex, soft dom namjoon, dirty talk (no degradation), rivals to friends to lovers, sexually charged fight/sparring scene when they’re rivals, previously seemingly unrequited love/mutual pining, shower sex, multiple positions, namjoon is needy and so in love

➳ warnings: unnamed character death/death mention, blood mention, injury mention/vague description

➳ a/n: I know this is kind of a niche genre for smut fics; I primarily wrote this for myself, and I definitely had fun and like what I came up with! What’s the point of fanfiction anyway, if not to have fun? Also, this takes place over a few years, and I tried to portray how Namjoon was feral and angry when he was younger but is now a loving gentle giant. Enjoy!

Everybody lost someone in the attacks that killed most of the planet. Friends. Family. Partners. You had lost everything and everyone, like most people who’d lived in the cities that no longer had names — what once had been centers of commerce, tourism, and civilization were now nothing more than craters, and with so few left who remembered them, what they’d once been were now lost to time.

You'd only survived by chance, really. You and your family had been in a tunnel leaving the city, on foot like everyone else, and when everything had turned to chaos, you’d gotten lost from your parents and sister. You still remembered the way people screamed and ran through the tunnel, their voices echoing harshly off the cement walls. You’d spotted someone hiding off to the side in a utility room in the tunnel, and when the blast hit the city center, that person had made you hide in the room too, their body shielding yours from the hellfire, melting around you.

You were five years old then. You were pretty sure your sister had been eight. You couldn’t remember what your parents or sister looked like, or your house, or where you’d gone to school, other than vague flashes and shapes of people who’d once been your whole world. All you’d had with you were the clothes on your back, and even those had been taken away once you’d gotten somewhere safe and been given something clean to change into.

After the ships fell and surviving aliens left, it had taken years to clear the rubble and start over. The attacks that changed and destroyed everything had also been a gift, or so they now preached, in which humanity was able to grow, learn, and become united. The religions and cults who now worshiped the alien attackers believed humanity had deserved extermination, but you liked the more academic approach to the alien race’s lessons: the technology humans had been able to reverse engineer from their fallen ships.

One of the many ways humanity had advanced in the last few years was flight technology. Planes were faster, turned sharper, could go farther, burned cleaner energy. The one thing everyone seemed to agree on was how important Earth’s planes had been in beating them, so that was where all the technology and progress was focused now.

You loved planes and flying, you always had, but the real reason you wanted to be a pilot, you held much closer to your chest: your entire life, you always felt like the attacks when you were young were just the beginning. Like an unhealthy obsession or open wound, it was all you could think about sometimes, what drove your every decision, what led you to the Pilot Cadet Corps. You wanted to be part of the team that took them down if they ever came back. You wanted to be ready.

You were eighteen when you’d joined the Corps. You’d jumped on that opportunity the first moment you were able, without so much as a second glance back at what you left behind. You’d been adopted fairly soon after the attacks, but your adopted parents never felt much like family.

The first full year of Corps was bootcamp. Bunk rooms were co-ed, and every moment of your lives was dictated down to the second. You woke up at six in the morning and ran laps around the track. You had as much free time as you earned between whenever you finished your laps and when breakfast started at seven: the faster you ran, the more free time you got.

Eight to noon was physical training. After lunch was different depending on the day: three days a week you had mental training for whatever field you were going into, mostly flight simulation for the pilots. Another day was more combat training, and the last was an alternate, for first aid, written tests, marksmanship, and other courses along those lines. After that you had more physical training, like sparring and hand-to-hand combat, then dinner, then free time. Lights out was strictly at ten-thirty every night, and then you’d start it all over again the next day.

Now, you stood in line with the other cadets training to be pilots, waiting to hear your class ranks. Every month, they would announce a ranking of all cadets, a score averaged in test results, simulator scores, and overall performance. The better you ranked, the better your placement once you graduated.

“Third place, Park. Eighty-nine point nine,” the sergeant read off, making a small boy a few rows away from you puff up his chest in pride. You weren’t sure why anyone would feel proud of not getting an A, but you pushed that thought away.

You swallowed hard, holding your breath. There were only two spots left, and if you’d scored higher than Park, that meant you got an A and were either in second or first place out of the whole class. You didn’t know everyone’s names yet, so you weren’t sure who you were competing with.

“Second place, Y/L/N. Ninety-five point two.”

You heard the impressed murmur of others in the class before all of them were silenced by a firm look from the sergeant. Your heart sank, your hands curling into tight fists. Second place? You’d been so sure before now that you were working harder than all the other cadets. You were smarter than them, faster, more focused. Who the fuck had beaten you?

“First place, Kim. Ninety-five point three.”

Your brow furrowed. You weren’t sure who this Kim was, but you set your jaw, becoming determined to learn everything about them so you could beat them. Whatever their weaknesses were, you’d find them and exploit them.

You snuck a glance around you, trying to figure out who Kim was, and nearly jumped out of your skin when the tall boy next to you made eye contact with you, raising one eyebrow in the most smug, cocky, asshole-ish look you’d ever seen. That one singular eyebrow quirk, the corner of his lip curling up barely noticeably, all of it made you want to seethe and strangle him.

You’d noticed this man before, but had never thought much of him. He was taller than all the other men, but he hadn’t come off as particularly smart or extraordinary. This guy was the one who’d beaten you?

Now that you looked at him, you noticed he was definitely very muscular. Had he beaten your score through his strength? You could work harder at weight lifting and beat him. Were his test scores perfect? You could make yourself study even more.

Whatever it was that made him first place, you’d find out and beat him.

II.

In the following weeks, you began to wonder how you’d ever missed Kim Namjoon.

You and Namjoon both worked harder than everyone else. You both trained longer, started earlier in the morning and kept going until you were the last ones left. You both pushed yourselves harder than all of your other classmates, academically and physically. Before he was placed first in the class, you hadn’t even noticed him, but now he was the bane of your existence, and you existed only to beat him and come out on top.

You were faster and more agile, but Namjoon was by far stronger. You almost wanted to dispute the scoring system; what use was strength for a pilot? You weren’t soldiers. He needed fast reflexes and precision, not fighting skills or the ability to deadlift two hundred pounds. Was he planning on picking up planes and throwing them at the alien ships? It was so stupid.

The second month of bootcamp, you were the top of the class, and Namjoon was second place now. You smiled smugly to yourself and kept your eyes focused forward, staying perfectly at attention like the other cadets, but you could feel his eyes on you and almost sense his focused anger, that same emotion you’d felt when he’d first beaten you.

After the ranking announcements, you went to combat training in the gym, but your instructor called out both your name and Namjoon’s before you could even get started.

“I want the two of you to spar,” the instructor said as the two of you ran up. “No rules, just fighting. You can use boxing, wrestling, martial arts, whatever you want — just don’t kill each other.”

You narrowed your eyes at Namjoon, almost expecting him to refuse to fight you, for being a girl. Besides occasional glares, the two of you had never so much as said a word to each other, but you figured smug alpha male assholes were all the same.

But instead, Namjoon smiled and said, “All right.” He almost seemed eager to get in the ring and teach you a lesson.

Now, you eyed him from across the ring, how he was watching you with a smug little smirk as he wrapped his knuckles.

“To win, pin the other person’s back to the mat for five full seconds,” your instructor said carefully. “Their back has to fully touch the ground, not just shoulders. They don’t have to be conscious to be pinned.”

You and Namjoon made eye contact at that.

“Whoever wins doesn’t have to run laps next week. Loser runs double laps before eating. You both ready?”

You and Namjoon ended up drawing a crowd of spectators.

The moment the instructor said start, you ran, jumped, and wrapped your legs around his head, twisting and throwing him to the ground so that he was on his back and you stood over his head, smirking down at his stupid surprised face.

He’d hit the mat hard, the breath completely knocked out of him. A few people in the crowd murmured quietly to themselves and quietly asked each other if the fight was already over. You let out a shaky breath, letting yourself feel proud for a split second as you glanced at the spectators, but before you could register what was happening, Namjoon grabbed you by both your legs, making you twist and fall hard on your back, too.

You tried to crawl away from him, but he just pulled you under him by your legs, climbing on top of you and trying to hold you down with his hands. You arched your back as high as you could, touching the mat only with your shoulders and ass as Namjoon fought to grab your wrists. He was on top of you, straddling your abdomen and trying to keep you down without actually touching your chest, and you watched him bite his lip and heard him growl as he focused on not getting hit while you thrashed beneath him.

You brought your leg up and kneed his kidney as hard as you could, making him groan before moving back to pin your legs down too. You could now easily keep your back fully off the mat, but he was straddling you much lower now, bending over you and still trying to grab your arms. This close, you could smell him, his sweat and masculine scent mixed with the cheap soap you all were given, and you had to push aside the fact you kind of liked the way he smelled.

You were panting hard, your chest rising and falling rapidly with each deep breath. You watched Namjoon as he glanced down at your breasts, before his eyes snapped back up at your face, his eyes wide as if he were surprised he’d let himself look.

“Having fun?” you teased, smirking up at him.

“Tons,” he growled, finally catching one of your hands and pinning it down by your wrist.

You hooked your leg up as far as you could, wrapping it around him and using his close proximity to your advantage. This seemed to catch Namjoon very off guard, and you felt more than heard him make a noise in surprise as you essentially embraced him, not giving him any space to move or do anything as you pulled your hand free and wrapped all your limbs around him, hanging off of him like a leach.

Namjoon sat back on his knees, and you held onto him, your legs around his waist and arms around his shoulders, waiting for your moment to use his weight against him and throw him on his back. He was squirming and wearing himself out, while you just squeezed him, hard enough you heard something in him crack.

“What are you doing?” he grumbled, trying to pry you off of him. Before you could answer, he grabbed you by your hair and jerked your head backwards, making you gasp and cry out. He started to force you off by getting his hands between your bodies, but you surprised him, grabbing his throat with both hands and squeezing.

Namjoon forcefully brought his hands down on your arms, bending them so that you let go of his neck, and now you were much closer to his face, nearly nose to nose as he still sat there on his knees with you hanging off of him. He held your wrists with both hands now as you tried to struggle free from him, and when you realized you couldn’t, you twisted one wrist, bringing his hand up to your mouth and biting down as hard as you could on the meat of his thumb.

He yelped and let go of you, but before you could use the moment to your advantage, he grabbed you and pushed you off of him, throwing you down away from him while he scrambled back and looked at his hand.

Your body bounced as you hit the mat, rolling a few times until you slammed against the edge of the ring. Namjoon was back on you before you could react, and you felt him behind you, trying to roll you over so he could pin you down on your back again. You brought your head back hard and connected with his nose, making him jump back again.

When you looked back at him, Namjoon was standing across the ring, holding his nose and glaring at you as you jumped to your feet too.

You circled each other for a moment, both closely watching the other’s every move like prey.

His nose was bleeding heavily, both of you out of breath and covered in sweat. You were pretty sure you had a bruised rib from him throwing you, your lungs burning from exertion from the fight. Everyone who’d been in the gym was now watching, none of them speaking as the two of you circled each other.

You ran at each other at the same time, Namjoon throwing a swing that you easily ducked. While his momentum was off, you punched him hard in the stomach, making him bend over in pain.

He was being sloppy, maybe distracted from his pain and anger, or maybe he was just more of a big clumsy oaf who relied on strength alone than you’d thought. You knew he was smart based on his test scores, but none of that appeared to translate to agility or finesse. He was fighting clumsy and angry, but you only felt more focused now, catching yourself smiling as you almost enjoyed yourself.

When you tried to strike him again, moving to hit your elbow between his shoulders while he was bent over, he turned and reached up, grabbing your neck with both hands. You broke his hold easily, and used that moment to bring your hand up and smack his injured nose.

Namjoon groaned in pain, holding his nose again. You grabbed his free hand, twisting it until he turned around and fell to his knees, yelling in pain, his arm bent painfully behind his back. You now stood behind him, Namjoon unable to move unless he wanted you to break or dislocate his arm, you on your feet with him on his knees.

“Do you forfeit?” you said, pulling his arm up another inch and making him hiss in pain. You could see how much he was sweating and panting, and ignored the way it sent a shiver of lust through you.

“You play dirty,” he seethed. Just standing close to him, you could feel the way heat radiated off of him. You’d noticed before that he was a sweaty guy, but now he was shining with it.

“I seem to remember being told that there were no rules for this fight,” you said, smiling proudly to yourself as you held the large man in place with one hand.

Instead of responding, Namjoon threw himself backwards into you, knocking you off your feet. You were on your back now and he was on his back on top of you, pinning you there. He had to have at least pulled his arm out of socket doing that move, and his body tensed from the pain, but he didn’t stop.

Namjoon pushed down with his shoulders as hard as he could, arching his back and standing up on his feet, bending his legs to put even more weight on just his shoulders to trap you there under him. You were crushed by him, barely able to breathe, let alone keep yourself fully off the mat.

He was so big and heavy, his shoulders wide enough to pin your arms down. You did the only thing you could think to do in the moment, what you hoped would give you an advantage again. You leaned in and bit down where his shoulder met his neck, the same side his arm was dislocated, and you bit down hard.

Namjoon yelped in surprise and pain, and you wrapped your arms around him in a chokehold so that when he tried to roll away, you went with him. He twisted in your arms until he was on top of you, facing you again, and this time you brought your knee up hard between his legs, his eyes closing as he groaned in agony.

You easily pushed him off and got on top of him, straddling his chest and pinning him down. Your knees pressed your full weight down on his biceps, including his injured arm, which made him groan in pain with every harsh exhale. He arched his back and tried to push you off of him, but he could barely move or reach you, his arms both pinned outward.

“Tired of getting your ass kicked yet?” you goaded, raising an eyebrow when Namjoon glared up at you. “How were you ever the top of our class? This is a little too easy.”

“Fuck you,” he growled, seething hard, blood all over his mouth and chin from his broken nose. His back still wasn’t technically on the ground though, so you needed to think of a way to make him stay down.

You were straddling his chest, so you moved your hips forward suddenly before throwing your whole body back, slamming yourself down hard and completely knocking the wind out of him. You simultaneously knocked him down so that his back was against the mat, and purposefully hit the back of your head against his crotch, which had to still be hurting from when you’d just kneed him a minute ago, so that he wouldn’t have the strength to get himself back up for a few seconds. You heard what you thought was a crack, which you really hoped wasn’t his crotch, before you heard and felt him groaning in pain.

The instructor counted out, and you won. You immediately jumped off of him and looked down at the damage.

Blood covered Namjoon’s chin, mouth, and neck, all from his nose wound, which you’d smacked more than once. He was bleeding from the bite on his neck, and his shoulder did not look right, pulled painfully out of socket and potentially broken. He rolled onto his side away from you and moaned, the hand of his arm that wasn’t dislocated over his crotch as he curled up in a ball on the ground.

“You all right?” you asked cautiously, stepping out of the way as the instructor rushed in to help him. Namjoon held up his middle finger to you, closing his eyes as he tried to breathe steadily.

You snorted in amusement and went off to the locker room to shower.

That night, Namjoon limped into dinner.

You were sitting by yourself at a table near the back, reading a book written by a pilot from before the attacks. Namjoon sat down across from you, as if sitting together was something the two of you normally did.

His nose was badly bruised and taped up, definitely broken. Judging by the limp he’d come in with, you’d messed up something below deck. His arm seemed to have been popped back in socket, but you could see the bruising spreading over his collarbone under his t-shirt, and his arm was in a sling. He had bite marks on his neck and hand, and the one on his neck had needed stitches.

You tried not to smile to yourself.

“Y/L/N?” he asked, like he wasn’t sure of your name, like you two weren’t rivals constantly competing and you hadn’t kicked his ass a few hours ago.

“Kim,” you said, returning the formality.

He didn’t say anything for a moment, so you went back to eating, trying not to look over at him. He rested his non-injured hand on his stomach, and you wondered if you’d broken one of his ribs or if he was just hungry.

“You planning on eating?” you asked him after a moment.

Namjoon actually smiled, laughing to himself weakly.

“I don’t think I even have the energy to walk across the room to get food,” he murmured, his voice a little deeper than usual.

Without a word, you stood, walking straight across the room to get another plate of food. When you returned and placed it in front of him, he looked up at you with wide eyes, confused and shocked by your gesture.

“Do you need me to cut it up for you, too?” you teased, though glancing at his arm, you wondered if he’d actually need that.

Namjoon shook his head after a moment, glancing down at his plate.

“Thank you,” he said quietly. You saw a small, genuine smile on his lips, and you realized then for the very first time that he had dimples.

III.

The following week came, as did Namjoon’s punishment week for losing the sparring match. The first morning, you noticed him waking up earlier than everyone else to go start his laps, since he had to do double. You quickly got dressed and followed.

You ran up beside him as he slowly jogged around the track.

“What are you doing?” He looked over at you, furrowing his brow but not stopping.

“Running laps,” you answered flatly.

You ran the same number of laps as he did that morning, despite having won the right not to run this week. Namjoon, you learned, had a broken rib and pulled groin in addition to all the other stuff you’d done to him, and he’d been given an out and didn’t have to run any laps after all. Your instructor had told him that he needed to focus on healing and not accidentally hurt himself more. He didn’t have to do combat training or anything else physical until he was healed, but he still ran his punishment laps anyway, completely by choice, and so you ran them too, matching his pace the entire time, neither of you saying a word to the other.

Despite getting his ass kicked in the sparring match, the rest of the cadets viewed Namjoon as almost a superhero after that. They respected how well he’d taken a beating; he was the guy who kept fighting, even with half a dozen injuries and multiple broken bones. You were the only one who’d been able to best him, using just your speed to outwit him, and now the rest of the class respected you both even more. Namjoon was a nearly unstoppable tank, and you were the lithe fox that beat him.

As boot camp continued, you and Namjoon continued your quiet friendship, neither of you the overly gushy or warm type, both focused only on training. You studied together, and started helping each other instead of competing. Both of you only improved your scores and times.

Namjoon helped you with your physical training, helping you get stronger. You helped him with his marksmanship, precision, and speed. You regularly sparred and fought and pushed each other further. You studied together, fought together, ate together, did everything together.

The first year of Corps ended, and you entered the second year. This was more specialized, focused on specifically becoming a pilot with more time on flight training instead of physical and military training, which you still definitely had a lot of.

Your class was smaller now, but you still slept in a co-ed barrack. You and Namjoon picked spots next to each other this year.

One night during winter break, almost everyone else had gone home for the week, the two of you essentially having the base to yourselves. It was well past midnight and after lights out, but you and Namjoon laid in your beds talking quietly, both on your sides facing each other. You only had about a foot of space between your beds, and you could just barely make out his face in the dark.

Namjoon told you that he remembered the attacks, losing his family, everything. He’d had a sister too, and had lived in a suburb, not one of the cities. He didn’t explain further, but said that he remembered what happened to his family, and that he’d been found in the woods by himself weeks later. He’d only been seven years old at the time, and you wondered how the hell he’d made it on his own for so long.

You got the feeling he was used to being on his own, and didn’t let himself get attached to anything or anyone. Part of you wanted to reach out and touch him, put your hand on his shoulder and tell him he didn’t have to be alone anymore. But instead you sighed, ignoring the way his sad eyes made your heart ache.

IV.

Your second year turned into your third, and you and Namjoon only became closer. You both planned to go on to a fourth year of training, even though it wasn’t required, as it would give you higher credentials and clearance when you finished. Both of you still strived to be perfect, after all.

Halfway through your third year together, you realized Namjoon was the closest thing you had to family. You both saw each other pretty much every moment of every day. You both didn’t leave the base for holidays, so the longest you’d been apart since first meeting was a few hours, at most.

You were constantly together, even when you didn’t need to be. You woke up early and ran laps, even though you were no longer required to — only first year cadets ran laps, but you both continued because… you didn’t know why, and you didn’t question it. You loved running with him.

That first year together, Namjoon had been stoic and quiet. He didn’t talk much, unless directly questioned, and even then he kept his answers as concise as possible. You weren’t exactly talkative, but when the two of you talked to each other alone, especially in the past few years, Namjoon began coming out of his shell. When he wasn’t guarded and quiet, he was warm and funny, almost loving in his own kind of way. You got the feeling he was naturally full of love, but had pushed that part of himself down in the years he’d spent alone and in shelters.

Now, you were giving Namjoon a haircut. His hair grew weirdly fast, and there were rules about keeping everything, including hair, perfectly in uniform. Men had to have very short hair and be clean-shaven, which meant Namjoon had to get a haircut basically every other week.

When it was warm you did this outside, but now it was winter and you were in the locker room. While you worked, you talked about upcoming tests and other little things. You kept catching Namjoon looking up at you as you stood in front of him, between his spread legs, and he seemed to be getting bolder, watching your face outright instead of just stealing glances.

“Close your eyes and tilt your head back,” you mumbled, trying to hide the fact you were blushing and flustered. Namjoon listened without a word, and you let yourself look at him for just a second; your faces were close, even with him sitting and you standing, because of how tall he was. You’d been obsessed with his lips lately, finding yourself fantasizing about them at the most inopportune times, thinking about how soft and full they looked and wondering what they’d feel like against your own.

Before you could pull yourself from your thoughts and start on the front of his hair, the power suddenly cut out.

You let out a small gasp, but this wasn’t exactly surprising around here. The power went out often because of the testing they were doing with switching over completely to alien tech for larger power structures. Still, you’d gasped in surprise because you’d been so focused on Namjoon’s face, and now the two of you were alone together in a dark locker room.

“Are you okay?” Namjoon asked, his hands coming up to rest on your hips.

Of course you were okay; the lights had just gone off.

“Yeah,” you answered anyway. You moved your hands from over his head to his shoulders, feeling him in the dark.

“It’ll be back on in a second, we’re okay,” he said, his thumbs moving slightly, like he was trying to comfort you.

“I know,” you said, your voice sounding small. You weren’t afraid at all, but you didn’t want him to stop what he was doing.

The lights came back on then, and you looked down at him. Namjoon smiled up at you, dimples on full display, and it nearly took your breath away. He had a little piece of cut hair on his cheek, which you gently brushed away, and he wrinkled his nose at you, making your heart ache.

You finished giving him his haircut, and afterwards he pulled off his shirt and went over to one of the showers, to wash off the pieces of hair you’d cut. You gathered up the electric razor and your other belongings while you heard him undressing behind you, turning on the shower and humming happily to himself.

You stopped yourself from looking at him as you walked out of the room and went back to the barracks, refusing to let yourself think about him showering or the way he’d looked at you.

VI.

Your last year of training was mostly just the two of you working together and with various superior officers. You’d get promotions and rank changes after some time in the field, but you’d start out as Senior Airmen, and would probably both make Staff Sergeant within a few years of graduating. There were no wars or active duty anymore, but it meant you’d both be given leadership positions, if ever the need arose.

After graduation, you and Namjoon would both receive your assignments and placements. You’d both requested to be placed together, without requesting anything else. You could be sent anywhere in the world, given any position; you didn’t care where you ended up though, as long as you were with him.

Since it was your last year, you were both given proper rooms instead of barracks. The rooms were small and minimal, but your room was right across from Namjoon’s. You spent a lot of time in each other’s rooms, even sometimes sleeping over.

Now, you laid on Namjoon’s bed in his room, while he sat at the chair by his desk with his feet propped up on the end of his bed. He was playing with a stress ball, passing it back and forth between his hands. You’d finished all your testing and training, so you were both basically just resting until graduation, anticipating your placements. It was late at night, the rest of the base quiet and sleeping.

“Dream placement,” you said, turning your head and pointing at him. “Go.”

“Oh, man…” Namjoon rolled his head back, looking at the ceiling. “Southern California.”

You scoffed, rolling your eyes. “What’s in Southern California, besides desert?”

“That’s the closest base to where the first ship went down. They’ve got the best tech out there, the best planes.”

“Okay, true,” you sighed. “But there’s nothing out there for miles. There’d be nothing to do.”

“What else is there, besides flying?” Namjoon threw the little ball he was playing with gently so it bounced off the wall beside you and landed on your stomach.

“I like flying and being able to see something besides sand, rock, and craters for hundreds of miles,” you said, tossing the ball back to him.

“You feel like you’re going faster if you don’t have anything to look at,” he said, catching the ball with one hand and tossing it behind him onto his desk.

“You also get lost easier,” you laughed, propping yourself up on your elbows.

“Not if you’re a good navigator,” Namjoon laughed too, standing up and moving onto the bed with you. He wasn’t exactly tickling you, but he was touching your body and you were both giggling as he laid down beside you.

“If you want to feel like you’re going fast, then just go fast,” you said, your hands on his shoulders now as you grinned up at him. He was partially on top of you, partially beside you as he smiled down at you, his mouth so close to yours.

“I want to go even faster,” he said, but he stilled suddenly, looking down at you with wide eyes. He seemed to have suddenly realized the position the two of you were in, and he moved so that he was just beside you, laying on his side as you laid on your back.

You sighed. It was always like this — not that you were complaining, because you loved the relationship you already had with him. But lately, you’d get so close, almost kissing, almost embracing, almost something, and then he’d back off. You still loved the moments before, where you could forget that you were just friends and pretend you were something more, as much as it ended up hurting your heart in the long run.

Even now, you loved this. Namjoon propped himself up on his elbow, looking down at you as you continued talking, a different topic now. Your mouths were only a few inches apart. It would be so easy for him to just lean down and kiss you, like you wanted him to so badly.

Namjoon’s hand that wasn’t supporting his head rested on your stomach. You put your hands there too, playing with him, feeling his long fingers and how big his hand was, and Namjoon let you, pretending not to notice.

You talked about graduation plans, life plans, little nothings that made each other sadly smile. Neither of you said it, but you both worried you wouldn’t be placed together.

“What’s your dream placement?” he asked you gently, his voice soft.

“You know, I don’t even care,” you said. Because it didn’t matter where they put you as long as you were with him, but you didn’t say that.

That night the two of you fell asleep like that, in that position. It wasn’t the first time.

VII.

When you woke up, you could feel Namjoon’s gentle breathing on your neck. You turned your head and looked at him, studying his expression in the early morning calm.

He was still on his side facing you, so now you were face-to-face, your foreheads and noses only a few inches apart. His hand still rested on your stomach, and you still held his hand there with both of your hands. You felt his fingers twitch a little in his sleep and wondered what he was dreaming about. His other arm was under the pillow now, and through it you could almost feel the swell of his bicep and warmth of his skin.

You only ever let yourself really look at him like this when he was sleeping, when the two of you had sleepovers in each other’s rooms. You studied the shape of his nose, the way his big, plush lips parted, the puffiness of his cheeks as he relaxed and breathed, every freckle and mole on his face that you wanted to kiss so badly. Cuddled up with him like this, you could feel how warm he was; Namjoon was a furnace of a man, and you’d gotten so used to sharing a bed with him the past few months, you now had to layer up and sleep with an extra blanket whenever you slept alone.

Namjoon sighed then, shifting a little in his sleep. You quickly closed your eyes and turned your head back so you weren’t facing him directly, in case he opened his eyes.

You felt him moving, shifting so that his arm was hugging you instead of his hand just resting on you. His hand was now on your side, below your armpit, his thumb on the side of your breast. He sighed and seemed to fall back asleep, softly snoring again after a few moments.

You laid like that for a while, enjoying this feeling, knowing you’d never have this for real. You'd never wake up next to Namjoon in the context you wanted, but this was more than enough for you. You were so in love with him, but he didn’t see you the same way, so you’d enjoy waking up in his arms for as long as you could.

When Namjoon eventually woke up on his own, he seemed to slowly realize the position you were in, moving his hand down carefully to more platonic territory. You opened your eyes and turned your head to look at him, and were caught off guard by the way he was staring at you so openly, looking down at your mouth for a few moments before looking back at your eyes with an expression you couldn’t name.

“Y/N,” he murmured, so softly you could barely hear him, but you could feel the rumble of it in his chest. You didn’t say anything, both of you just looking at each other in the peaceful quiet stillness of early morning, the only noises both of your gentle breathing.

Namjoon moved his hand up to your shoulder, and then his hand was cupping your cheek, brushing your hair back from your face. The tips of your noses were almost touching, his warm breath on your lips. He closed his eyes and put his forehead against yours, your heart almost stopping in your chest from how close he was. He’s never done anything like this before, and you definitely were not going to stop him.

He turned his head slightly, your foreheads still connected as the tip of his nose skimmed along your cheek, by your nose. He brushed his lips against yours so lightly you could barely feel him, his eyes still closed. You could feel his eyelashes tickling your cheek, and prayed he couldn’t feel how fast your heart was racing or how you nearly whimpered at his every touch.

Namjoon moved and brushed his barely parted lips against the corner of your mouth, your chin, your jaw. His hand on your cheek, he stroked your skin with his thumb slowly, touching you, feeling you. His leg moved up slowly, hooking over yours, and you spread your legs for him. You couldn’t even think straight right now, the only things your brain were processing were the touches and sensations Namjoon was giving you.

What the hell was he doing? The thought of him seeing you romantically, the same way you saw him, had seemed so impossible before now, but now, as he brushed his lips against your skin, you wondered if he’d been longing the same way you had.

Namjoon turned your head carefully, slightly away from him, so that you were looking directly up again. He kissed your cheek closer to him while he stroked the other, pressing gentle open-mouthed kisses down your face and neck as he slowly moved himself on top of you. You, matching his slow movements, wrapped your legs loosely around him and held onto his shoulders.

Namjoon kissed your skin as lightly as he could, feeling you anywhere you’d let him, and you were lost in him. He switched to your other side, kissing your collarbone and neck and jaw, and one of his hands moved up behind your head, tangling in your hair. Every movement was slow and deliberate and gentle.

You never would’ve guessed Namjoon was the gentle type, but now that this was happening, it made sense and you craved it. He closed his lips lightly against your earlobe and you gasped loudly, trying to arch up against him.

“You’re so beautiful,” he murmured against your ear. “So soft, so perfect, my angel, my love.” His voice was so warm and deep, and you quietly whimpered, holding onto his shoulders even tighter. You felt like he could make you come just from this, just from his light touches and hearing his deep voice praise you. You'd wanted him so badly for years now, you’d dreamed about him, fantasized nonstop, and now here he was, and the tension was already building up for you.

He hadn’t even fully kissed your mouth yet. Namjoon pressed his lips against your cheek, caressing the other side of your face with his hand, just holding your body so close to his. You swore you could die right now and be fine with that.

An alarm suddenly blared, and both of your bodies stilled and tensed.

Namjoon jumped off of you and sat back on his legs, looking around the room like he was expecting to see what was happening written on the walls. You sat up too, looking around. Your legs were still spread, your brain still hazy from Namjoon’s kisses, and you looked at him as you saw him working through what was happening.

“Something’s wrong,” Namjoon said, quickly jumping up. He sat back down on the side of his bed long enough to put on his shoes. “Come on,” he said, pulling you up when he stood again.

You snapped yourself out of your lust-haze. The alarm was still going off, which meant something major was happening right now. It wasn’t just a test.

You left, quickly scampering across the hall to your own room so you could get dressed.

You and Namjoon met up in between your rooms a moment later, both in uniform, and ran down together to where the rest of the base had gathered, Namjoon taking your hand in his as you ran.

VIII.

It was another attack, like when you were young.

You all stood there at attention receiving orders, none of you looking anywhere except forward blankly. This was it, everything you had trained for, the exact reason you’d trained so hard. They were back.

You and Namjoon were both assigned as squadron leaders to two different units, Namjoon to Red One and you to Blue One. Those were two of the best, most elite units of fighter jets, but you looked over at him when you got your assignments. You weren’t together, so you wouldn’t know if he was okay until after it was all over.

You were all dismissed and had fifteen minutes to get to your planes and prepare for launch. You went straight to your plane, not stopping to talk to Namjoon. You knew you wouldn’t be able to leave him once you looked at him, so it was better to just pretend this morning hadn’t happened.

You were just starting to climb the ladder up to your plane when you heard his voice.

“Not saying goodbye?”

You froze in your tracks, but didn’t turn or look at him. You couldn’t make yourself say anything, instead just staring straight in front of you with your hands on the rungs of the ladder.

“Y/N,” he said, his voice much softer now as he walked over to you. The planes were close together so you were in tight quarters, and he stood right behind you, his hands not quite touching your sides.

“What?” you said, not looking back at him.

“Please don’t leave without saying goodbye,” he said. You'd never heard his voice like this. Quiet, pleading, loving. It was like this morning in bed, but more desperate, yearning, begging you to look at him.

You started to move up the ladder without turning around, and he put his hands on your hips, stopping you. He immediately let go, not wanting to trap you there.

You sighed and turned around to face him, only partially, still a step up on the ladder so you were just slightly taller than him. You reached back and held onto the ladder with one hand as you looked at him.

When you saw the expression on his face, it took your breath away. He looked almost tearful, sick with worry, trying to be stronger than how he obviously felt.

“Goodbye,” you said softly, bringing your free hand up to his cheek.

He stood there for a moment, just looking at you. You stroked his cheek with your thumb and tried to smile weakly. His hair was getting a little long, you noticed then for some reason. He was supposed to keep it short to stay in uniform, but now it looked long enough for you to run your fingers through.

Namjoon’s eyes were wide and innocent, searching your face. Around you, the base was chaotic and busy as other pilots ran to their planes and officers barked out orders and engines started up. The two of you just stood there in your quiet moment, both a lot less excited about your first mission than you’d thought you’d be, everything happening so much sooner then you’d both thought and on such a larger scale than you ever could have anticipated. You remembered almost wanting this when you were young, promising yourself that you’d be ready if they ever came back. Maybe the universe was punishing you; whenever you loved someone, the universe immediately sought to take it from you. Your family when you were young, and now Namjoon.

He looked like he wanted to kiss you or tell you something. He parted his lips and glanced at your mouth, his brow furrowing as he breathed, and he looked back up at your eyes, his expression so worried.

“I’ll see you soon,” you said, smiling gently.

You turned and climbed up into your plane without another word.

There had been twenty pilots in your squadron when you left, and four when you returned.

You didn’t really remember the aliens from when you were little, but you’d seen countless videos. You knew what they looked like, how they performed, what their technology was supposed to be like, what their weaknesses had been.

You saw so many planes go down. The alien ship had a different defense than last time, and the fight was only over when the alien ship suddenly left and moved on, seemingly just because it wanted to, not because the humans posed any kind of threat to it. When it left, it had taken out an entire city, just like last time. The town near the base had only recently gotten its infrastructure set up.

You and your three surviving pilots returned first out of all the other squadrons. You quickly climbed out of your plane and ran down to the hangar, asking about the other pilots still out there. You needed to know if Namjoon was okay.

Before you even got to the hangar, another alarm started blaring. A plane near you exploded, and you spun around, looking up at the sky.

There had to be over a hundred alien ships in the sky, all firing on the base and the planes.

“Get inside, now!” you yelled, pointing at the pilots from your squadron who’d ducked down near their planes. You knew the base had a bunker, and the number of people at the base now could easily survive down there long-term.

There was panic as people got down there as fast as they could, all climbing over each other and yelling. You stayed back where you could see the sky, ducking down in a safe spot and watching as long as you could. You only saw alien ships, none of your own.

You imagined Namjoon’s last seconds. If he hadn’t made it back to the base, there was no way he’d survive. The ships would find him. You could only see the planes you’d seen exploding earlier, hear the voices of the pilots in your squadron on your coms as their ships exploded. A cut-off shout, and then nothing.

You finally made yourself run down to the bunker. In the distance, you could hear the ships destroying every visible part of the base, every last truck and car and plane and tank exploding as the blasts hit them. The walls shook and lights flickered and dust fell from the ceiling as you made your way down the stairwell to the bunker.

Over the destruction above you, you could hear Namjoon’s voice that morning in his bed, the world frozen around you then, the only things that mattered his large, gentle hands, his slow, exploring mouth, and his soft voice.

“You’re so beautiful,” he’d breathed against your neck. You'd been able to feel his smile, the tip of his nose tracing your jaw, the warmth of his breath on your skin. You'd never felt safer than when you were laying in bed with him.

You pushed the door of the bunker shut behind you, your hands shaking and eyes welling up. You could not think about this; you had to push all of that aside for now. You had a job to do.

After about five minutes down in the bunker, the lights went out. The weak backup generator kicked on near-immediately, but now there was no connection to the outside world. If any pilots managed to survive this long, the base wouldn’t know about it or have any way of contacting them.

When you’d taken off, both you and Namjoon had been promoted to captains, to lead your squadrons. Once all of the remaining people at the base were down in the bunker and accounted for, you were promoted again, this time to major.

Almost everyone out of the thousand or so people on the base had gone out to fight. The only people who’d stayed behind were ground control officers, technicians, first years, civilians who worked on the base, and the top few people in charge. There were maybe a few hundred people down in the massive bunker now, and you ranked sixth in command out of all of them.

Namjoon would’ve been so jealous you outranked him, you thought with a small smile.

VI.

Four days passed with no news.

There was no service. There was no internet, radio, or any connection to the outside world.

You were itching to get out. There was no news from the outside world, but there also hadn’t been any explosions since the first day. The alien ships had to be gone by now. On the second day, you’d tried to suggest to the general that you could go up to the surface and see if an evacuation could be planned, but the general and other officers had all said that there was no need to evacuate, because there were plenty of supplies down here. They would continue to work on regaining communications with other bases, and nothing else immediately mattered until then.

Now, you were on your cot, staring at the ceiling above you. It was the middle of the night and just about everyone else was asleep. Most people slept on cots in what looked like an old gym, all lined up in long rows. Everyone had been given two changes of clothes, all gray jumpsuits. You felt like you were in prison.

The scratchy wool blanket was pulled up to your neck. You tried to imagine sharing the cot with Namjoon, the two of you squeezed onto the spot only meant for one and giggling when you just barely fit. You imagined him spooning you, kissing your neck and shoulder and holding you close to him. You imagined feeling his heartbeat in his chest. You imagined his face when his plane exploded.

It wasn’t fair. You’d literally just become something more than friends, maybe, kind of. Your relationship with Namjoon meant everything to you, and it had suddenly been changing in such amazing ways, and then he’d immediately been taken from you.

You refused to cry about this. You refused to even accept he was gone. There were ways he could’ve survived. There had to be. He could’ve flown low and ejected and hidden in the rubble of the city. Except he wasn’t a coward; you knew him, and you knew he was the type to win or die fighting. He could’ve led other survivors away from the city. Except there was no way these planes could’ve outrun the alien ships. They weren’t fast enough.

There had to be a way. You had to get up to the surface and find out. You had to find him.

VII.

After one week down in the bunker, you felt like you were going out of your mind.

You had a plan. You were going to go to the surface whether they let you or not. You were going to find Namjoon, or at least the remains of his plane. You were going to find him or find closure.

You needed climbing gear to get up the destroyed stairwell. You’d need to find rope and gear, a lot of water, and survival supplies. You began your plan, looking around for spare supplies nobody would notice was missing until you were gone. You knew where to find rope, but you had to figure out how to acquire and carry enough water. Plus you would need to bring medical supplies, in case Namjoon was injured. God, you could just imagine him, laying somewhere, bleeding out and barely conscious. You wondered if he’d thought of you, imagined you coming to save him.

You were seconds away from stealing rope from a supply closet when a short little man walked around the corner.

“Major?”

You froze in place. You weren’t in the room yet; you were innocent.

“Yes?” you said, smiling politely.

“The general wants to see you,” he said, and left without adding anything else.

Shit. How had they known? You hadn’t done anything yet, or told anyone or written anything down.

You made your way to the command center. Not much was going on there in the way of commanding anything, but it was where the higher ups — which now included you — met, and it was where they were attempting to reestablish communications with the outside world.

The room was busy with officers buzzing around. There were a lot of exposed wires hanging out of the walls. It looked like they were rebuilding a computer system circa 1970.

“Major,” the general said, motioning you over.

“Yes, sir?”

“You’re the highest ranking field officer, so this goes to you first,” he said, handing you a manila folder. “We’ve established communication with a base a hundred and fifty miles from here, but only briefly. They said they have seven survivors from our base. They didn’t say who.” The general quickly added the last part when he saw your face light up at the mention of survivors.

You glanced down at the folder. Before you could speak, the general continued.

“We need someone — a pilot — to go up to the surface and see if any planes are still intact, and if so, fly to Walker Base. If there aren’t any planes left, we’ll probably have you try to find a car, or hike if you have to. We need to get our relay codes to that base, and once we do, we’ll have full communication with them again. You up for it?”

You looked up at the general, smiling.

VIII.

It took you about an hour to climb the staircase. Most of it was rubble and a lot of it involved throwing up a rope and securing it on something to climb the huge gaps where the stairs had fallen out, but you eventually got to the top, pushing aside debris to get yourself outside.

The base was gone. There was no way any planes survived this. Still, you walked out onto the strip, just in case.

Some of the piles of charred metal were still smoking. A few small fires were still going, most of them out in the lot, where jet fuel must still be feeding them. You tried to see if you could spot where your and Namjoon’s rooms used to be, but it was all just rubble, ash, and charred cinderblocks.

You walked down the landing strip, looking at the piles of scorched plane parts, blasted to nothing. Pieces of metal jutted up, a plane wing here, a part of engine there. Every pile you saw, you imagined seeing Namjoon’s body among them. You knew if he was dead, he wouldn’t be here, he’d be out in the city — but seeing all of the destroyed planes wasn’t helping.

You stopped in your tracks.

At the end of the landing strip, under a broken wing of a much larger plane, was the most beautiful F-15 Eagle you had ever seen.

You ran to it, climbing on it when you reached it and pushing aside the wing of the bigger plane until it clamored to the ground. You climbed into the cockpit, dropping your backpack with supplies and the relay codes into the little compartment, feeling nearly dizzy in euphoria. You prepped the jet for takeoff, everything going smoothly, and you imagined Namjoon’s face when you showed up at the base. He’d be so happy to see you, but so surprised, and when you told him that you got promoted to major–

You stopped for a moment, your smile falling as you stared blankly at your hands on the switches and dials.

You didn’t know if he was one of the survivors at the other base. You shouldn’t get your hopes up just to show up and find out he wasn’t one of the pilots who made it. For all you knew, you’d get there and one of the pilots from Namjoon’s squadron would tell you all about how he died.

You focused on the task in front of you. You were on a mission, first and foremost, to get the relay codes to the base. That was the important thing right now, not yourself or Namjoon.

You got the plane prepped and ready to go. The center of the runway was clear, since most of the planes had been gone.

F-15s were always your favorite.

IX.

You didn’t attract any alien attention while flying, thankfully. You got there in just over twenty minutes; around the fifteen minute mark, you slowed down and the base contacted you on your descent into their airspace. You had to identify yourself and state your intentions, but the base seemed completely willing to let anyone human land.

When you landed, a few people ran out and took care of your plane for you, as you were escorted inside. You handed over the relay codes and quickly asked if you could see the survivors from your base.

“Most of them were pretty shell-shocked when they got here, but they’re soldiers. They know how it is,” the officer escorting you said as the two of you walked. “How many survivors at your base?”

“Three hundred and forty-two,” you said flatly, staring straight in front of you as you walked. “We had four pilots including myself return, the rest were non-flight officers and civilians. No casualties on the ground, but the base was destroyed in an aerial attack shortly after we landed.”

“Yeah, we heard about that. That’s why we got your other pilots,” the guy said, motioning in front of him in the direction you were walking, assumedly at the surviving pilots. “They didn’t have anywhere to land and thought the base was gone, so they came here. All from different squadrons, but led by one captain.”

You perked up when you heard that. A captain had survived.

You really did try not to get your hopes up. Your base was huge; there were so many squadrons, only one captain surviving was not good news for Namjoon. Still, you were hopeful.

You were led to a barrack where a few pilots were sitting around together, all men looking bored out of their minds. You recognized Park from your training class, and a few others as well. You scanned their faces quickly, looking from person to person, desperately searching for him, frantic and anxious and despairing when you looked and didn’t see him–

“Y/N?” a voice said from behind you, and you spun around.

Namjoon had walked in behind you from the other direction; he looked like he’d just taken a shower, from the wet hair, clean clothes, and bag over his shoulder, which he dropped as he stared at you in disbelief.

Neither of you even said anything. You were only about ten feet apart already, but you immediately met in the middle, desperately grabbing at each other, hugging tightly. Your legs were up around his waist and he held you to him as he kissed all over your face. The room was spinning or maybe Namjoon was just spinning you around, you didn’t care, you just held onto him and tried to kiss him, one hand in his hair and the other arm around his shoulder, trying to pull him closer.

As much as you wanted and tried to kiss him, Namjoon was just too much; it was like he was trying to kiss every last millimeter of your face at least twice. He was holding you so tight you almost couldn’t breathe, but you didn’t even care. His skin, his hair, his mouth, his kisses were all the most amazing things you’d ever felt. You were pressed chest-to-chest, arms wrapped around each other, and you could almost feel his heartbeat pumping along with your own.

Namjoon stopped kissing you long enough to nuzzle against you, closing his eyes as he rubbed his cheek against yours, nearly animalistic.

“I missed you so much, my love,” he breathed. You swore his face was wet with tears, his cheek still pressed against your own. “I haven’t thought about anything other than you. I haven’t stopped thinking about you this whole time, I love you so much… god, fuck, when I thought I’d lost you…” He started kissing your cheek again desperately, his hand coming up to hold your other cheek and hold you in place.

“I missed you too,” you gasped, your voice small and high-pitched as you tried and failed to hold in your tears.

“I love you so much, sweetheart. I love you, I love you, I love you,” he kept repeating, not even stopping speaking as he kissed you, so some of his words were muffled.

“I love you, too, Joon,” you managed to say before he kissed your mouth, tilting his head to kiss you so deeply it took your breath away.

“Okay, Jesus Christ,” somebody else in the room said then. “Do you guys want us to, like, leave or something?”

Namjoon stopped, catching his breath as you turned your head to look back at the six other pilots and the officer all awkwardly watching you.

“Uh, sorry,” you muttered, putting your feet back on the ground and turning around. Namjoon kept touching you, not taking his hands off you, even as you faced the others.

“I know you both outrank us, but get a room,” a different pilot laughed, his smile boxy and voice deep.

“You have a room, actually,” the officer that led you in said, perking up like that was his cue.

“We do?” Namjoon asked, confused. He stood behind you, hands on your hips, tall enough to see over your head.

“She does,” the officer gestured to you. “She’s a major. All superior officers class O4 and up get their own private room.”

“Major?” Namjoon said, tilting a little to look at your face. You smiled to yourself smugly.

“I can take you there now,” the officer said, motioning to the door behind him.

Namjoon stepped to the side and looked down at the ground shyly, glancing up at you and pouting. You wanted to roll your eyes; he actually thought you weren’t going to invite him to come with you.

“You too,” you said, holding out your hand for him.

Namjoon beamed, and quickly picked up his bag and jogged over to what must be his bed, grabbing the few belongings he had, and shuffled back over to your side, taking your hand and kissing you on the cheek before following along with you.

“Go get it, captain,” one of the pilots jeered at him, the others all snickering and wolf-whistling as Namjoon dropped your hand long enough to flip all the other pilots off while the officer led the two of you out and down the hallway.

As soon as the door was shut behind you in your room, the officer gone and the two of you alone, Namjoon dropped his belongings and picked you up again, your legs tight around him, the two of you kissing again. You felt your back against the cold metal of the old-fashioned blast door, one of Namjoon’s hands holding your face.

“How’d you get here?” he murmured against your neck after a moment, kissing your cheek between gasps. “They said the base was destroyed, no contact.”

“The attack happened right after I landed. Everyone got down in the bunker, no casualties on the ground,” you gasped, still a little short on breath. As you spoke, Namjoon kissed your neck, working his way up to your jaw. “They needed a pilot to bring relay codes here.”

“What’s this about you being a major now?” he said, smirking, his lips not leaving your cheek.

“Got an upgrade while you were gone,” you said, and then you gasped, laughing as Namjoon suddenly sucked your skin over your pulse on your neck, leaving behind a deep purple hickey.

“Well, Miss Major, that means you outrank me now,” he said, leaning back enough to smile at you, his expression a mix of mischievous and proud.

He stepped backward then, still supporting you with his arms, and walked back until he got to the bed, sitting down on it. He laid back, pulling you down on top of him gently, your mouths connected the whole way down.

He was the best thing you’d ever felt, his large, firm body contrasting his gentle touches and kisses. You couldn’t get close enough to him, but it was slow, lazy, loving, everything you’d ever wanted with him, his soft tongue in your mouth, his firm arms around you, his warm body under you.

You couldn’t get over how good he smelled. There was the soap he’d just used, but you’d known him and been close to him long enough to know his scent. He tasted so good too; he swirled his tongue with yours slowly, tracing lazy patterns on your tongue, kissing you so deeply your head spun. His hands rested on your back, his fingers spreading wider as he tried to touch more of you.

You parted for air as he rolled you both, holding your body to his with one hand as he pulled you up the bed, resting your head on the pillow as he gently laid you down. Even though you would’ve only fallen a few inches and the bed was soft, he set you down like you were made of glass, looking down at you with love and hearts in his eyes, not breaking eye contact as he gave you a small, warm smile.

His dark hair was mussed up a little from you running your fingers through it, and it looked fantastic on him. His face was flushed and his parted lips were red and a little swollen, and he looked like he’d been crying, or was about to cry, or both.

You pulled him down to you and kissed him again. He set his body against yours, lining himself up with you as you wrapped your legs around him. You were both still fully clothed, but you could feel him, pressed perfectly against you from your collars to his growing erection and your throbbing core.

“I love you,” he groaned against your neck, grinding slowly against you. “I’ve loved you for so long, I wanted to die when I thought something happened to you and I never told you. I promise I’m going to tell you now, every single day, every time I see you, every time we make love, every second of every day–” He cut himself off by kissing your neck desperately, moving down toward your breast.

“I love you, my angel. You’re the most beautiful thing in the world, I love you so much,” he said, kissing along your skin frantically by the collar of your ugly flight jumpsuit. “You’re my best friend, and I love you, I love you, I love you,” he said, kissing up the center of your chest toward your clavicle. His messy hair tickled your chin, and you rested one of your hands on the back of his head as he worked, gently stroking his hair.

“I love you too,” you managed to say, though words weren’t really coming to you right now, with all Namjoon was doing to you.

Namjoon got up then, and you watched for a moment as he started quickly stripping off his clothes. You sat up too, pulling off your jumpsuit, and Namjoon got all but his boxers off before your arms were even out. He helped you, running his hands along your skin as you peeled off the jumpsuit, leaving you in just the undershirt and shorts you’d had on underneath.

There was a moment where the two of you just sat there looking at each other. You’d both seen each other in this context — nearly naked — before, from sleeping in the same room to swimming to other random things you’d done together over the years, but this was the first time it was ever like this.

Namjoon raised his hands slowly, his fingers just barely skimming against your hips. His eyes were on your breasts, his mouth nearly watering, and you smiled at that. He looked up at you, his eyes innocent and showing every emotion he had within him; he was asking for permission.

You brought your hand up to his face and kissed him slowly, savoring every movement of his lips, the feel of his tongue, the taste of him. His hands went to your thighs and helped you wrap your legs around him, and then you were laying down again, Namjoon on top of you.

He kissed down your chest, this time simultaneously running one of his hands up your stomach under your thin undershirt. He cupped your breast with that hand, feeling you fully, while his mouth kissed back up to your neck. He got your undershirt off without either of you having to get up, though he did have to lean back a little to give you room to wiggle around, and then he unhooked your bra and threw that and your undershirt somewhere behind him.

Namjoon swirled his tongue around one of your nipples, gently squeezing your other breast with his hand, your peaked nipple hard against his palm. He rolled one nipple between his thumb and forefinger slowly while sucking the other, just barely using teeth and making you gasp, and then he switched sides, doing the same thing again.

“That feels so good, Joonie,” you sighed, closing your eyes and smiling to yourself. You stroked his hair while he worked, closing your eyes and tilting your head back. Every moment or so, you’d let out a moan for him, tightening your fingers in his hair whenever he did something that made you see stars, and he’d hum back to you, responding without taking his mouth off you.

Namjoon moved down your abdomen, kissing every rib, every freckle, every last inch of your skin. He dipped his tongue into your belly button and you gasped and giggled, feeling his grin against your skin as he kissed down your navel, his tongue tracing along the edge of the little shorts you still had on.

You reached down and tried to pull off your shorts, but Namjoon’s hands replaced your own, slowly pulling just your shorts off and leaving your panties. He tossed your shorts the same direction he’d tossed your bra, and then looked down at you, sitting back on his legs. Your legs were spread wide, your soaked panties the only thing covering you, your eyes desperate for him, your breasts rising and falling as your breath quickened in anticipation and need for him.

“You’re so beautiful,” he murmured, his expression almost dazed in love and adoration. He looked like he didn’t know where to look, his eyes scanning your face, your breasts, your spread thighs, the spot on your panties where you were already wet and soaking for him. You bit your lip and whimpered, and he closed his eyes, sighing and smiling to himself, like he couldn’t believe how lucky he was.

Namjoon bent over and kissed your ankle, slowly, chastely. He moved to the other side and repeated that, kissing your anklebone. He moved up your calf, staying on that side, kissing you over and over and moving so slowly you started to whine for him, begging him to go faster and reaching down for him. He reached up and took one of your hands, holding it and lacing your fingers together as he continued what he was doing, not at all speeding up.

He kissed your knee, the side of it, the front of it, and tilting your leg gently to kiss the back of it. He moved up, kissing your inner thigh while still holding your hand. You spread your legs further for him, whimpering and squeezing his hand as he got closer and closer to your center.

Namjoon pulled back then, a smug smile on his face as he started moving down to kiss his way up your other leg, starting again at your ankle. You let out a whiney moan, pulling his hand and looking down at him, pleading.

“Okay, sweetheart. I’m sorry,” he said gently, moving back to where you wanted him most.

He kissed you right over your panties, a deep, open-mouthed kiss that made you cry out. You could feel him breathing hard through his nose, smelling and inhaling you as he moved his mouth against you, letting go of your hand so he could hold your thighs with both his large, perfect hands.

He licked and sucked the fabric of your panties, tasting where you were soaked for him. It was the most amazing thing you’d ever felt, and you spread your legs even further for him, your hands holding onto the sheets of the bed, your knuckles turning white.

You gasped when you felt teeth, and then Namjoon was slowly pulling your panties down your legs with his mouth, looking up at you with playful eyes and a smirk. You wanted to roll your eyes at him, but instead just closed your legs enough for him to get your panties off of you, letting him have his fun. He let out a small growl at you, your panties still in his mouth, and you giggled, a soft noise that made his eyes light up.

Before you could think or do anything, Namjoon was back between your legs, spreading you open with his fingers and licking a slow, thick line up your folds to your clit.

You cried out, your head falling back and eyes squeezing closed. Namjoon repeated the motion, even slower this time, moaning a little too as he let the tip of his tongue enter you for just a moment. You whined, pulling his hair hard and trying to spread your legs even further, and Namjoon stopped, humming softly as he turned his head and kissed your thigh.

“I love you so fucking much,” Namjoon murmured against your skin, kissing you there again. “Your pussy’s so pretty, my love. So soft and wet for me.”

“Joonie,” you sighed, stroking his hair. You could feel his smile against your thigh, and it made you smile, too. You felt warm, like you were glowing from his love.

Namjoon turned his head back and dipped his tongue into you again, this time further, like he was trying to see how far he could go. His lips sucked at your entrance as his tongue flicked in and out, not fast enough to get you off, but not slow, either. He moved his tongue like he was trying to drink you, lapping you up, bringing your wetness into his mouth and down his throat.

You moaned loudly for him, pulling his face harder against you by his hair, and he reached up and grabbed one of your hands, lacing his fingers with yours over one of your thighs.

He moved his mouth up to your clit, drawing random shapes over it with the tip of his tongue lazily while he curled two fingers into you. He moved clumsily, like he wasn’t exactly sure of what he was doing but just wanted to make you feel good, and what he was doing was definitely working. What he lacked in experience he more than made up for in eagerness and love, and when he moaned around your clit, and you nearly screamed.

“Jesus Christ, Joon, fuck. God, your mouth is… mmm, god, you’re so fucking good, that feels so good, Joonie, Joonie–” You cut yourself off with a long, agonized cry as Namjoon sucked your clit into his mouth hard, swirling his tongue around it as he suctioned his mouth and moved his fingers inside you faster. You repeated a chorus of nothing but his name between breathy moans as you held onto his hair with your free hand, your other hand squeezing his.

You gasped when you came, your whole body tensing as you saw stars and every nerve in your body exploded in pleasure. Your mouth hung open in a silent scream as you failed to breathe, your lungs tightening and your orgasm only building and building as Namjoon kept moving his tongue and fingers. You felt like you were floating in space, millions of stars around you all bursting at once, the entire universe stopping for you and Namjoon and the love you felt for each other.

After a moment, you took in a shaky breath, trying to recover while your mind was still mush. Namjoon was still moving his mouth on you, now licking up your wetness at your entrance and moaning to himself at the taste. If he kept that up, you were going to come again, and soon.

You moaned, pulling on his hair enough for him to look up at you, not stopping what his mouth was doing. You pleaded with your eyes, whimpering and pulling his hair again, and he put his lips to your entrance one last time, this time spreading his lips as wide as possible and sucking as he slowly closed his mouth. You gasped and almost screamed at the sensation of him actually drinking you, desperate to taste you.

Your second orgasm was smaller, making you shudder and gasp for just a moment before steadily breathing deeply as you tried to recover again. You looked down at him, barely able to lift your head; Namjoon was kissing your thigh, your hips, pressing gentle kisses to your skin as he slowly worked his way up your stomach. You could see how hard he was, his precum glistening on the head of his cock as it bounced against his stomach with his movements.

You started to reach down to grasp him, but he gently stopped you, bringing your hand back up by your head and lacing his fingers with yours. He kissed your collarbone, leaving a trail of wet kiss spots all over your body, your own wetness in the shape of his lips and chin.

“Please, Joonie,” you hummed, and he came back to you, kissing your lips slowly and letting you taste yourself on him. You wrapped your legs around him tightly as he lined himself up with your entrance, moaning when you felt the head of his cock against your folds, gasping when he started slowly sliding into you, every amazing inch of him filling and stretching you.

Namjoon buried his face in your neck, the length of his nose pressed against the curve of your jaw. He turned his head enough to kiss your neck, feeling your rapid, heavy pulse with his lips.

“You’re so beautiful,” he murmured against your neck, not opening his eyes. “So fucking tight and wet for me, my angel, my princess, my heart, my love. I love you so fucking much.” He kissed your neck again gently before pushing all the way into you and bottoming out, the stretch so wonderfully tight and full. You cried out, spreading your legs further and higher for him, grabbing at his shoulders, scraping your fingernails down his back as he filled you up so completely.

Namjoon pulled out slowly and then pushed in again, rocking into you. You were desperate, nearly delirious and just about ready to cry if he didn’t start moving faster. He seemed to just barely be holding on by a thread, his own orgasm already one sudden movement away from overwhelming him.

“God, Jesus Christ, Joon, fuck,” you cried, close to actually in tears now. You started to say something else but it turned into a small whimper as he thrust into you again, hard.

“I love you,” he groaned against your neck, “I love you so much, Y/N…” Your name turned into a long moan as he began his slow, torturous pace, both of you so close to the edge already. You didn’t know how he was possibly going so slow still, other than the fact he must want to torture you.

“Go faster, please,” you cried out, holding onto his shoulders as tight as you could and digging in your fingernails. “I need you so bad, Joonie. God, fuck me, please…”

“I love you, angel,” he said, kissing your shoulder. He picked up the pace a little, but it wasn’t enough. “I love you, baby, I love you so much. I love you, I love you–”

“Go fucking faster, now, please…” you sobbed, pulling his hair, making him hiss in pain, but he listened, reaching down and holding your hip with one hand as he started pounding into you, the force of it making the bed creak and your breasts bounce with each quick, powerful thrust. You were long past gone, moaning loudly with each exhale, and Namjoon groaned and grunted, his head against your shoulder as the two of you moved together, you rolling your hips up to meet him thrust for thrust.

Namjoon broke first. His orgasm hit him suddenly and he tried to keep moving, his thrusts sloppy, erratic, and uneven as he spilled into you, his mouth hanging open and eyes squeezed shut. He let out a long groan until he ran out of air, and then he didn’t inhale again until he finished, suddenly and harshly gasping in again, his whole body shaking in your arms.

He reached down and rubbed your clit furiously, and you only lasted a few seconds before you gasped too, clenching around his still half-hard erection inside you, which only made him groan in overstimulation as you squeezed and spasmed around him, gasping nothing but his name and feeling nothing but him, your love, your Namjoon.

Namjoon somehow managed to keep himself from collapsing on top of you. He moved to the side enough to fall beside you, one of his legs still between your thighs as he laid on his stomach, slightly turned in toward you. His hand moved up to cup and stroke your cheek as he lazily kissed your shoulder.

“I love you too, Joonie,” you said between shaky breaths, your vision almost blurry from lust and exhaustion and a dumb happy smile on your face. “I love you, I love you, I love you.”

You laid there for a little while together before you eventually went another round, this time as slow as Namjoon had wanted to go the first time.

When you came this time, your orgasm had to have lasted at least five full minutes (or at least, it felt like that) as Namjoon kept moving in and out of you, keeping up his steady, slow, overwhelming movements that left you delirious with his cock inside you, his thumb on your clit, and his lips on yours, breathing in every moan of his name.

After you both laid there a while again, lazy in post coital haze, you eventually got up and went to your room’s personal little bathroom, where you turned on the tiny shower and let it warm up. You stood there feeling the water’s temperature with your hand while Namjoon stood behind you, arms wrapped around you and lips on your neck. It was like he couldn’t go more than a few minutes without saying “I love you,” not that you were complaining.

You showered together, Namjoon standing behind you the whole time and washing your body for you. He massaged your breasts, hands sudsy as the warm water fell down over them as he kissed your neck, murmuring sweet nothings in your ear. One of his hands fell down to your folds, stroking you slowly as his other hand moved to your breast, arm wrapping around you so that his forearm could also press against your nipple, stimulating and touching both of your breasts at once.

Namjoon slid two fingers into you as he kissed your temple. You could feel him hard against your ass, and that feeling made your eyes flutter.

“You don’t know how many times I’ve dreamt of touching you, pleasing you, making love to you,” he murmured into your hair. You responded with an agonized moan, reaching back and holding onto his shoulder for support. “I’ve wanted you like this since we first met. I dreamed about eating your perfect little pussy so many times, doing exactly this to you, feeling you squeeze my cock like you did earlier when you came so prettily. You’re better than anything I ever could’ve imagined though, baby. Your pussy tastes like heaven and feels even better. You’re so fucking perfect, princess, I love you so much, more than my heart can bare.”

You felt like he had to be bending you over slightly, his firm chest against your back. You swore you could actually feel his cock throbbing.

“I need you,” you moaned, your eyes closed as you felt nothing but his hands.

“I’m here,” he said, kissing your cheek. “I’m here, angel. I love you.”

“Need you inside me,” you said, spreading your legs to stand with your feet braced wider apart. “I love you, too, Joonie. Please…”

Namjoon didn’t need to be told twice. Hooking his arm around your waist for support, he bent you both over a little more, sliding into you from behind in one smooth motion. You cried out in ecstasy, he felt so good and big and yours.

It was fast and sloppy; he hugged you against him with both arms while you braced yourself on the tile wall in front of you. The sound of skin smacking against wet skin, his hips hitting your ass coupled with both your quiet moans and the wet squelching of him moving hard and fast inside you, echoing off the tile walls with the sound of the running water. He filled you so perfectly, stretched you out so far, you felt like he was fucking up into your guts, so hard and deep and good.

You came at the same time, Namjoon groaning and squeezing you harder as your eyes rolled back in your head.

When you’d both recovered some, you stood there under the water, still in the same position. You both knew base rules about wasting water, so you needed to wrap this up, but neither of you wanted to move.

You eventually got out and dried off, both of you getting ready for bed with the toiletries provided by the base. He couldn’t keep his hands off of you the whole time though, so the whole process probably took three times longer than it should’ve.

When you both finished, he pulled you to him, your arms wrapping around his shoulders as he kissed you, his hands spreading out on your bare back. Namjoon’s tongue slowly swirled with yours as he let out a small, contented hum, and he wrapped your legs up around his body, supporting you with one hand on your back and the other on your thigh.

Namjoon walked to your bed, carrying you, and laid down with you on top of him. You didn’t end up going another round, but you kissed for a while until eventually you started to move off of him to sleep beside him. Namjoon, though, held you there on top of him, keeping you there.

He murmured a soft little “please,” stroking your back gently, begging you to stay where you were on top of him. You laid back down and kissed right over his heart, before turning your head and resting your cheek on his chest, nuzzling in against him to sleep as he pulled the sheets up around you both.

You were safe in his arms. The world around you didn’t matter; not the people down the hall, not anything outside the base, none of it. The whole universe was just you and Namjoon in this bed, and nothing else existed. He was yours, and you were his.

#ksmutclub #hyunglinenetwork #bangtanarmynet #namjoon smut #bts smut #rm smut #kim namjoon #namjoon #my writing #namjoon fic #*

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fromtheringapron · 3 years

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WWE WrestleMania XXVI

Date: March 28, 2010.

Location: University of Phoenix Stadium in Glendale, Arizona.

Attendance: 72,219.

Commentary: Michael Cole, Jerry Lawler, and Matt Striker.

Results:

1. WWE Unified Tag Team Championship Match: ShoMiz (The Miz and Big Show) (champions) defeated R-Truth and John Morrison

2. Triple Threat Match: Randy Orton defeated Cody Rhodes and Ted DiBiase Jr.

3. Money in the Bank Ladder Match: Jack Swagger defeated Christian, Drew McIntyre, Dolph Ziggler, Evan Bourne, Kofi Kingston, Kane, Montel Vontavious Porter, Matt Hardy, and Shelton Benjamin.

4. Triple H defeated Sheamus.

5. Rey Mysterio defeated CM Punk (with Serena and Luke Gallows).

6. No Holds Barred Lumberjack Match: Bret Hart defeated Vince McMahon. Bruce Hart was the special guest referee.

7. WWE World Heavyweight Championship Match: Chris Jericho (champion) defeated Edge.

8. Layla, Alicia Fox, Maryse, Michelle McCool, and Vickie Guerrero defeated Kelly Kelly, Beth Phoenix, Mickie James, Gail Kim, and Eve Torres.

9. WWE Championship Match: John Cena defeated Batista (champion) to win the title.

10. No Disqualification Career vs. Streak Match: The Undertaker defeated Shawn Michaels. Per stipulation, Michaels retired.

My Review

WreslteMania XXVI is a difficult show to sum up. It’s a pretty good WrestleMania, but also one that happens to be all over the place in tone and focus. Perhaps its reflective of how indeterminate the future of the WWE felt at the start of the 2010s. The roster was such a mishmash of eras that you’d be forgiven of not having a clue where the hell the company was going. John Cena, Batista, and Randy Orton were at the top of the card after their rise to superstardom in the 2000s, but the spotlight was still shared guys who rose to stardom in the ‘90s like Triple H and The Undertaker. Then there was a new generation of talent—The Miz, Sheamus, Drew McIntyre, etc. — bubbling in the undercard who seemed poised to rocket into the top at any moment. But wait! Time was also given to . . . the 13-year-old feud between Bret Hart and Vince McMahon?!? Suffice to say, with the show splintering off in so many different directions, it’s not surprising it has some misfires.

Let’s start with the good stuff, though. The main event between Undertaker and Shawn Michaels is fantastic and I’m gonna throw it out there that I like it more than their match from the previous year. The stakes feel higher, the suspense level feels higher, and there’s more of a story here than just Shawn needing to beat Taker. He puts his entire career is on the line here, for heaven’s sake! And speaking of his career, like many at the time, I didn’t have a clue this would be Shawn’s last match. Most on-screen wrestling retirements are never legit, so there was plenty of basis to believe this one would be no different. But alas, this one was different, and we get about as good a sendoff as we could’ve gotten for someone who’s been dubbed Mr. WrestleMania.

On another show, the WWE title match between John Cena and Batista would’ve been the main event. Their match here is great fun. It’s actually an end of an era for the two men who were crowned as the leaders of the next generation at WrestleMania five years earlier. Batista would move on to Hollywood shortly after this and, while certainly not his last WWE run, it would mark the end of his career as a full-timer. Interestingly enough, Batista was really coming into his own as a heel at the time of his departure, even winning over fans who previously couldn’t stand him. He would resurrect his heel run in 2014 and 2019, again only for a short spell. A shame we haven’t been able to spend much time with arrogant heel ‘Tista and his impeccable designer fashion, but then I guess that’s what makes it so special.

As for what doesn’t work, I probably don’t need to go into much detail about the Bret/McMahon clash. The basics of the story are solid — Bret gets his long-awaited revenge on McMahon, with his family right by his side. It’s just not super fun to watch in execution, however well-meaning it may be. They match is dragged out much longer than it should and it takes the crowd completely out of it. Another misfire is the Money in the Bank match. This would be the final iteration of the match at WrestleMania before it becomes its own pay-per-view. It’s clear the concept needs some rejuvenation by this point as it’s now a lazy, bloated affair where everyone gets in their allotted number of spots and there are way too many participants. To cap it all off, the ill-advised decision is made to push Jack Swagger into the main event scene, an idea which would run out of gas in a matter of months.

The show seems to have some weird pacing issues as well. In the era of the Network, I’ve grown so accustom to Manias being stretched to the point of exhaustion, so it’s always little odd to go back and watch one that feels like it doesn’t have enough time. It’s almost like it’s struggling to figure out how spread out time across a card so stacked. The tag opener and Rey Mysterio vs. CM Punk feel like abridged versions of the matches we would’ve otherwise gotten, while Bret vs. McMahon gets more time than either combined. Even Money in the Bank feels somewhat rushed. I’m definitely not a huge fan of WrestleMania becoming a seven-hour event, and WWE has proven they struggle with time management on longer Manias, but this is one show where it seems an extra hour absolutely would’ve been to its benefit.

At its best, WrestleMania XXVI is a nice sampler plate of eras, even if struggles to give you equal portions for all of them. The multi-generational makeup of the card ensures there’s a little something for everyone and even closes the books on a couple of legendary careers. You’re bound to dislike some it but for better or worse, and this is a cheeseball thing to say, it definitely puts the “showcase” in the Showcase of the Immortals.

My Random Notes

No joke, I really did not think this would be it for HBK and even seriously thought Taker’s streak was in jeopardy. Am I a fool for thinking that? Maybe, but I like that wrestling conned into believing it in a way it hardly ever does anymore.

I feel like the temple entrance set is something that should’ve been more impressive than it is in actuality. They just stacked LED screens on top of each other and just rolled with it. It looks like something from Minecraft.

Ah, this show reinvigorates my fond feelings for Matt Striker. Such a handsome chap! Not surprising at all he would appear on a Bachelor ripoff a whole decade later.

I chuckled at Bruce Hart being the special guest referee for Bret vs. McMahon. You just know he huffed and puffed his way into that one, much to Bret’s annoyance.

I also chuckled at Diana Hart-Smith walking down to the ring with her best “evil, vindictive femme fatale on the cover of a pulp novel” look. God bless her. She needs to write another book.

I know Rey singing Happy Birthday to his daughter is meant to be a heart-warming thing but if I were a kid in the same situation, I would be traumatized. Just think of how uncomfortable it is when a room full of people is signing at you and then think of enduring that in an arena filled with thousands of people. CM Punk did her a huge favor by crashing the moment, as far as I’m concerned.

Not saying anything new here, but the whole Spear thing with Edge is cringe as hell and it’s for the best that it’s been forgotten in the annals of his career.

I know some people like to mock Vickie Guerrero doing Eddie’s frog splash, but I personally thought it was a sweet moment while staying true to comedically heel Vickie.

The official theme song to this Mania is “I Made It” by Kevin Rudolf. A time-period appropriate choice, I must say. I feel like the dawn of the 2010s is the only time a Kevin Rudolf could be a success.

I identify myself as someone who will always be more embarrassed by John Cena haters than Cena himself and I gotta say him posing next to the guys in the front row hating his guts is fucking hilarious. Cena is funny sometimes when he just straight-up trolls.

On the Legacy fallout: The storytelling for this was weird as hell. Am I the only who remembers that one time on Raw where they teased Ted turning face and the crowd was actually kinda into it? Then they completely abandoned it for whatever reason and just had Randy be the breakout face (as if he needed it) and dunk on both Cody and Ted at WrestleMania. I feel like Cody’s AEW origin story more or less began here.

Awwwwe, this show has little baby Drew McIntyre. It’s so interesting watching this with the benefit of hindsight. I remember a lot of people Not Feeling It when he was anointed as the Chose One, and truthfully I wasn’t feeling it at the time either, but watching it back really makes you appreciate how much hard work he put in to get to where he’d be a decade later. A lot of folks were dreading the inevitable Drew world title run in 2010. The title run did happen, but it was much later and much more welcome than anyone back than anyone could’ve imagined.

#wrestlemania #wwe network #the undertaker #john cena

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nctzendreamz · 5 years

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Crazy, Rich, and They Hate Me :: Part Eight

Jaehyun finally takes you home, but he forgets to mention that his family is the richest in South Korea.

Part One Part Two Part Three Part Four Part Five

Part Six Part Seven

Jaehyun x Reader ft. NCT

Genre: Angst/ Fluff

“The royal wedding.” Heechul whispered as the three of you pulled up to the expensive scene. There were cameras everywhere. Multiple limos continues to line up behind the mustang you currently sat in, and even though they didn’t know you saw them, everyone wanted to know who was in this car.

“You don’t seem nervous.” Jasmine questioned with a raised eyebrow.

“I’m a good liar.” You whispered, unconsciously tapping your leg out of their view.

“You look beautiful, okay? And you’re at Park Rosé’ wedding. And she actually likes you.” Heechul said in shock.

“What’s the supposed to mean?” You asked in an offended tone.

“Look, all I’m saying, is that you have an opportunity here. Just like we told you at the house, show these snobs that you can look better, be better, and arrive all alone. You got this.”

“I got this.” You assured yourself, before taking a deep breath, and stepping outside of the vehicle. You felt like a celebrity who had to put on an act as a smile immediately found its way to your cheeks. The lights flashing at you made you sweat even more, but the closer you got to the wedding entrance, the more confidence you felt.”

“That dress.” You heard a reporter whisper, clearly in awe of you.

“Everyone this way!” Another yelled, and you realized that their attention was previously on Yuna and her posse. A genuine smile crept on your cheeks at how angry she looked. She stormed inside as well as the rest of her friends, while you continued to pose on the red carpet.

When you finally did get inside, you could spot your biggest fear. She walked with her cousins and sisters, and rolled Grandma through the semi crowded hallway. You looked up at where you were, and you couldn’t believe that most of the people in here were used to this. The white walls were pure, just as they should be. It reminded you of Johnny and Rosé, and how their relationship isn’t about how much wealth they could gain together in the future. It was about love.

When you walked into the room where the ceremony was being held, your eyes enlarged even more if that was even possible.

You had never seen anything like it. The lanterns, the plants scattered all around. It was so beautiful. People were all around, some mingling, and some trying to figure out the best place to sit. Your eyes were on Mrs. Jung, as you finally were able to handle the verdict.

She was never going to approve of you. She was never going to accept you.

“You look absolutely stunning, Mrs. Jung.” You bowed as you approached her on the front row. Everyone looked as if you had the biggest balls they’d ever come across.

She was silent for a moment, before she nodded her head gently. “Thank you. You look...nice as well.”

“And you too ladies.” You greeted. “So beautiful.” You whispered.

“Us? Look at you!” One of them spoke. “That dress? Divine.”

You watched as Jaehyun’s mother gave her the side eye, clearly not enjoying the compliments you were receiving, but you felt no pain. You also noticed the way she kept her purse in place so you couldn’t sit down with the rest of the family, but that didn’t surprise you either.

You turned around swiftly, and scanned around for a place to sit. All of a sudden you felt a tap on your shoulder.

“Are you Y/N?” An older woman questioned. She was wearing red just like you, and her eyes were unmistakably those of the bride.

“Yes ma’am.” You said with a bright smile, taking her hand.

“Would you mind escorting me to my seat? I’m getting a little up there in age.” She smiled back.

“Of course, but you don’t look a day over 25. Don’t you know?”

As you sat her down, you saw her pat the space beside her. “I see why my daughter speaks so highly of you. I’m sure you’ve figured out I’m her mother.”

“Those eyes are hard to ignore.”

She giggled softly, clearly reminiscing about her only child. “Ah, yes. She’s always looked like me.”

“Are you sad about today?” You questioned, rubbing her back softly.

“No.” And in her eyes, you could see that she meant it. “Rosé used to always say to me, ‘Mom, no one will ever love me.’ I used to think she sounded absolutely ridiculous until she got older and explained to me what she actually meant.”

“And what was that?”

“I think you know.” She smirked, placing her hand on yours.

All of a sudden, you remembered the conversation you and Rosé had on the beach. The one where she vented to you about how she feels people only see her for her status, and not for her.

“Oh, yes.” You recalled. “She told you about that?”

“She told all of us. She also talked to Johnny about it.”

You couldn’t believe what you were hearing. “She did?”

“As I told you, she very much so adores you. And so does Jaehyun.”

The mention of Jaehyun’s name made every memory from the previous night to aflame in your mind. God, you missed him. You had no idea if he wanted to see you, but you wanted to apologize.

“He was there too.” She said, snapping you out of your thoughts. “He was so frantic, saying he ruined everything.”

Your heart was breaking the more and more she spoke.

“But in the end, he was alright. He’s a good boy. Always has been.”

“Was Johnny upset? I hate for all of this to happen during his wedding.”

“Johnny will always be better than okay. My son and Jaehyun are like brothers, and family doesn’t turn away from eachother. We love eachother, and I believe we all needed last night. It was like a last goodbye, almost. Johnny is officially a man after today.” She chuckled once again.

You couldn’t even speak as your eyes rested on your hands.

“In life, I’ve learned to never focus on the people that don’t like you.” She said suddenly. “It’ll only put you in a bad mood, and can deter you away from the ones you love, and the people that love you.”

Just a few feet away, eyes were burning into your features.

“Is she here?” Johnny questioned.

“Yeah.” Jaehyun said in a shocked tone. Deep down, he knew you were coming. God, you looked so amazing. You always did. “She’s talking to your mom.”

“Really?” Johnny was the surprised one now, peeking his head from behind the curtain. “Holy shit that’s a lot of people.” He breathed out nervously.

“Everything is going to be fine. You look great, the venue looks great.” Jaehyun placed a hand on his broad shoulder. “It’s finally here.”

“It’s finally here.” His voice trembled as he spoke. “I get to marry the girl of my dreams.”

“The love of your life.”

“The love of my life.” He confirmed. “With my bestfriend by my side.”

“With your bestfriend by your side.” Jaehyun grinned, his dimple coming out with pride.

“Are you guys done making out yet?” Lucas yawned.

“Yeah pretty boy.” Jaehyun promptly snatched the glasses off of his face, throwing them on the ground.

“Those were expensive!”

“Yeah? Well I think the people would rather see your eyes. I promise you no sponsors are watching.”

“I hope they are.” Taeyong snarked as he rested on the corner. “Maybe it’ll digress his ego.”

“Did mommy yell at you again last night?” Yuta joined in, squeezing his cousins cheek.

Taeyong was silent for a minute, before removing his hand from his face in dramatic fashion. “Not anymore than usual. I’m just...”

“Realizing this is our last boyish moment?” Haechan said.

“Yeah.” He whispered.

“Oh, don’t even get me started.” Johnny sighed, eyes up to the ceiling. He didn’t want to cry before the wedding even started.

“Remember that time when Jaehyun broke the statue of Buddha in the foyer, but he really wanted to go to the fencing tournament so we all took the blame for him?” Lucas said in a somber tone, even though he was laughing.

“And he never payed us back for it.” Yuta eyed.

“That was my one crime!” Jaehyun explained. “Let’s talk about I was always covering for you two.” He pointed at Yuta and Lucas, “for always sneaking girls in. I was risking my life.”

“Yeah, whatever.” Yuta sighed. “Remember that time we all got mad at Haechan and Taeyong because they told on us.”

“And we made up because we saw those spoiled brats messing with the two of them at school, and beat them up.” Johnny couldn’t breathe at this point.”

“I’ll never forget that one.” Taeyong smiled. “It was the first time I felt like I had brothers.”

“Me too.” Haechan agreed.

Now there was silence. It was pure. It was loving.

“It’s true that we can’t be kids forever.” Lucas sighed. “But what we have is something that can never be broken.”

“A brotherhood that lasts forever.” Johnny whispered.

“Forever.” The rest of them said in unison.

“And we’ll always be here.” Jaehyun added. “No matter what.”

“And Taeyong.” Yuta spoke suddenly. “I’m sorry if you think we’re like your parents. We know how good you are at what you do, and we’ve always been proud of you.”

“Thanks, bro.”

“And Jae.” Lucas sighed dramatically. “What I said about Y/N wasn’t cool. But...if you guys are about to break up...”

“And there he is.” They all said.

Together, they all came to Johnny in a group hug, squeezing the life out of him. They stood there for what felt like forever.

Suddenly, the slow ballad began, and they knew it was their que.

One by one, they approached the alter. Johnny couldn’t breathe, and Jaehyun couldn’t help but to look at you for a quick second. He could tell you didn’t notice. The woman hired to sing set the mood perfectly, and the instruments matched the theme. The floral designs everywhere made it all so real for everyone.

The flower girls came out first. They gained awe’s from the crowd who ruffled their hair gently as they threw their flowers out.

The melody continued as they made their way to the alter, giving Johnny and they rest of the cousins big hugs. You couldn’t help but tear up at the sight of Jaehyun. You wanted kids with him. You wanted this moment with him.

Suddenly the lights lowered, and the singing stopped. You were told before the wedding started that this was where the lanterns were supposed to be brought out hanging for the bride to walk through. Together, everyone followed instructions and lit the aisle up. It was so beautiful. Her bridesmaids appeared for a short moment before they moved out of the way and revealed Rosé while water flowed through the aisle. It was guaranteed the most perfection thing you had ever seen.

“Wow.” You whispered. She looked essentric. “She cut her hair.” You smiled as a tear finally dropped down onto your hand.

Now you couldn’t help but to let your eyes go back to Jaehyun, who was finally looking at you too. Time really did stop as the two of you looked at eachother. It always did. It was almost telepathic as you both apologized with your begging, watery eyes. The beginning of your journey replayed like a flash, and you both knew. You knew this was far from over, and that not even the worst could make you two not be soulmates. You can’t mess with fate.

I love you. He mouthed as he bit his lip to contain his tears.

I love you. You mouthed back, wiping the river from your eyes.

Jaehyun then put his hand on Johnny’s shoulder, comforting his brother as he couldn’t contain his tears either.

Rosé had finally made her way to the steps of the alter, her father giving her away and Johnny assisting her.

“Before we join these two in marriage, they have vows.” The minister said, stepping back.

“Johnny.” Rosé spoke in a shaky voice, paper in hand. “These past few years with you have been the best years of my life. When I first met you, I was scared. I was so scared because you were so convincing. For the first time I felt myself falling in love with someone, but better yet, I could tell he was falling in love with me too and it was absolutely horrifying. I wanted to see this day so bad, but I knew something bad would happen, or you were going to break my heart...but you didn’t. And now, I get to call you my husband, and start a family with you, and I just...love you.” A smile radiated across her cheeks as she placed the ring on his finger.

“Rosé.” Johnny sniffled, causing everyone in the audience to awe at his transparent nature. “You are the reason I’m the man I am today. Before we met, I didn’t know myself at all. You showed me that I was human. You’re the one who’s always there for me, you’re the one who showed me just how beautiful life can be—the one who showed me happiness in its purest form. There are so many words that fit with you because you are that amazing, but the most important is that you are the love of my life. I can’t believe God blessed me with you, but I vow today that I will never take advantage of this opportunity. I won’t let you down.” He slipped the huge diamond onto her finger.

Jaehyun once again took a peak at you. As he listened to the vows being said, he noticed that this is exactly how he felt towards you. You were the only person he wanted to see when he hated the world. Even when he didn’t, all he wanted was you. You made him feel human. Not just some rich boy who could take care of you. You saw him for who he actually was. A man who could be insecure, awkward, and could make mistakes. You could take his mind off anything he didn’t want to think about. You are the love of his life.

“Do you, Johnny Suh, take Rosé to be your wife?”

“I do.”

“Do you, Rosé Park, take Johnny Suh to be your husband?”

“I do.”

“Well on that touching note, I now prounouce you, husband and wife.”

Cheers and confetti erupted from the venue. Johnny and Rosé connect in a passionate kiss before joining hands and stepping back into the watered aisle.

Now it was time to party.

#nct #nct 127 #nct imagine #nct scenario #nct jaehyun #nct angst #nct fluff #nct scenarios #nct series #nct imagines #crazy rich and they hate me #nct yuta #nct johnny #nct lucas #nct haechan #nct taeyong

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storytimewith · 5 years

Text

Sloth, Lord of the Flies

The end is near.

The demon lord has risen and his armies are growing. The generals are being put in their rightful spots among the rankings. The humans wage war against those that threaten their peace or profit. The elves stay in their strongholds of the forests, The dwarves continue to forge in mine their meaningless lives away. The end of the world and the breaking of the peaceful times is upon us.

The demon lord sends his armies and generals on a certain mission to ensure their victory

“Find the Seven Sins of man and awaken their vessels”

So the generals and their battalions to scourge the planet for the sins and the vessels they inhabit. Each sin is defined by their own sins through the vessels, the vessels never show the sins since they cannot be awakened without the help from a being of superior power and only a handful of beings outrank the seven sins. The demon lord was one such person so he created crystalized orbs of his magic and had them enchanted to indicate when someone was close to a vessel and which sin it was.

A vessel is not an object yet a person or an animal. A “creature” praytell and they have inherited the soul of the sin from their ancestors who were the original seven. The original seven were not demons or evil by any means though had strong emotions and and grandeur magic power. Eventually each of the original seven were cursed by the maker and it’s followers that they shall be controlled by their emotions and that it will pass on through generations. They original seven despised the maker because of this and formed alliances with those who sought to undo the maker. Though it was all for not for they lost but made a pact with the lord of demons that they shall be allies whenever the need arises and if the time comes he shall awaken them and allow the cursed to watch the fall of god.

Rhodan the demon general of the 12th seat is currently searching through the realms of man looking for any vessel. His battalion and seat ranking is second lowest his army only having 5,000. Marching through the mountains and forests with no reaction from the crystal, Rhodan was getting bored and his troops were becoming agitated from the lack of war. The lord sought to avoid war at the beginning else all will be for naught. Though desperate times called for desperate measures. So Rhodan started invading villages and towns leaving none alive while finding no reaction whatsoever. The troops were pleased with the bloodshed though they all felt the coming dread from the anger of their commander. Then finally on the 5th village there was a low glim of the orb very faint yet the colour of light blue was distinguishable from the normal white orb. Rhodan was ecstatic finally this boring journey would stop and he would get a handsome reward from the lord for finding one of the seven.

“Bring all of the humans in the village too me, no killing!!”

In the village there were a small number of people numbering less than 100. The people all knew each other and helped one another. They found peace and comfort in their lives in the kingdom. The news of the rise of the demon has not yet reached the village’s ears. In the village children were playing outside their houses yet there was one not playing he was taking care of his sister and trying his best to treat his sisters illness that plagued her. So far his father has gone searching for herbs for her treatment in the forest and his mother was changing sheets and rags for her. The little child was clutching his sisters hand at this point sobbing thinking she was going to die .in reality it was a persistent cold that her father wanted gone, though he was right about something.

As the day continued to go on tension in the air grew yet no one knew why. The hunters in the area where on guard children brought inside and livestock moved to barns. The chief of the village saw the change in the winds as an omen of disease and an impending hoard of monsters from the forest invading the village. Though with the rumbling of the ground his theory changed from monsters to an invasion of an army and they were the ones to create the first signal of war for the country.

The ground vibrated and rumbled and through the forest emerged hoards of daemons and most were of higher rank. Building after building was torn to sunder no wall can hold back their rampage the wood was torn apart like paper. Each daemon had a goal and they went to accomplish them thoroughly. Each person that met the daemons were kidnapped or beaten until they were unconscious. All of them had no chance to defend themselves the hunters were out gunned and the guards of the village hasn’t met an actually threat since the last war which was over 100 years ago. They were all taken to Rhodan per his orders yet in the house of the child taking care of his sister a commotion was going on.

“ Come here you brat!!”

“Never!!!”

There was a demon chasing the child around and around the house somehow just a little slower than the child. He was saving time for his sister, who upstairs was facing a dilemma herself. She noticed the lack of anyone outside and the explanation from her brother was hardly sufficient “There are demons i’ll distract them you run, ok. Hey Katherine you listening?! Time is of the essence your big bro has got this!” he was full of himself and didn’t give a proper response only something involving demons though from the noise downstairs and the people not being around actually proves her brother wasn’t insane.

Though she didn’t get a lot of thinking time a few seconds later a long limbed creature saw her through the window and pulled her through breaking the glass and causing cuts all around her body. The boy heard this upstairs he started panicking this gave enough time for the demon chasing him to catch up and snag him.

“You *huff* little twerp *huff* HOW ARE YOU SO FAST!!?”

“Let go of me you foul demon i’ll kill you all for hurting my family”

“Sure you will” the demon exclaimed as he was leaving the building

All the towns were in a giant row in front of Rhodan one by one no one in front or behind the other. He was going down the line one by one checking to see if the orb had a reaction. When he reached the end there was still no reaction though the glow was getting brighter and brighter slowly yet surely. Over the hill two demons carrying two children appeared. The ball reacted glowing a bright light blue with the symbol of a sloth around an archaic rune. Rhodan was elated he found the sin of sloth, though from his face not much emotion could be seen.

“You two bring both of them here!” ordered Rhodan. The two demons brought the two children over one bleeding out slowly and the other one gaged to stop his ranting. From the perspective of the boy a giant bird like creature covered in scales yet no mouth was peering over him. Of course he would be scared he actually fainted. Rhodan pressed the orb against the two, almost too hard, when the orb neared the boy it shined brightly displaying a symbol of a sloth in the air above the group.

“Don’t touch…. Him...demons”

“Little brat I found what I needed the rest of you are no longer needed”

“STOP!....please...stop” the girl collapsed from the laceration around her body from the broken glass. The other villagers noticed what was happening from the scream of the girl including their parents. “Katherine! Isaac!!” they both screamed their last words. Rhodan gave the kill order to the demons around. All at once the villagers and the little girl were all killed within moments. Leaving the boy alone with the creatures.

“Wake the vessel of lord sloth”

“”Yes sir”” two demons said at once.

With both of the two demons fervently slapping the boy to wake him he finally woke.

“What...What did you monster do!!”

“You don’t need to worry about those cur much longer lord sloth will be awakened so shut it.. And WAIT!” Rhodan yelled at the boy then began a process that just by watching the boy understood was complicated,if not weird looking, Rhodan was chanting while moving the orb around the boys body to different points all were specifically handled to were the orb never strayed from a certain path. Soon the orb began to glow and brighten and brighten it eventually became a beacon emanating the symbol of the sloth around the archaic rune. A wave of power flowed from the horizon in a predestined path seeking the beacon created by the crystallized mana of the demon lord acting as a homing device for the lord’s power. The power struck Isaac but instead of it blasting him away it entrapped in blistering heat while what felt like his soul was being extracted. Soon he fell, he collapsed with the only hint of him being alive is the slight movement of his breathing. Power began to surge from the boy encircling him like a cyclone growing bigger and bigger then … nothing it dissipated without the slightest trace of it ever existing in the first place.

“What… What HAPPENED?!” Rhodan screeched the gift and benevolence he envisioned receiving from the lord evaporated in an instant. His chance of gaining power dissipating, he began to kick the downed child to calm himself. Kicking and Kicking and Kicking and Kicking and Kicking and Kicking and Kicking. The boys chest at this point was caved in broken the child previously known as Isaac was beyond recognition. The chest was crushed the skull caved in and the legs were bending in the wrong direction. The orb in Rhodan’s hand no longer glowed it seemed complacent like it completed its job. The army marched off at the word of their angered lord all a bit frightened by the scene in front of them. Even they thought this was brutal.

#Story #Writing #Sloth #Death #Seven sins #The Beginning #Fantasy #part 1 #Demons #my story #my writing #writeblr #magic

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criminalminds-lol · 6 years

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Copycat (Part 1) [Reader x Spencer Reid]

Quantico, Virginia - November 11th 2013

“Annabelle Daniels, 17, was abducted while jogging in Quinton, New Jersey, on September 10th, 2011. Her body was found in Quinton on January 4th, 2012. Loren Hobbs, 19, was taken a week later, on January 11th, 2012, also while jogging, this time in East Windsor, New Jersey. Her body was found in East Windsor on April 21st. On the 27th, Cassandra Gibson, 18, was abducted from Eagleswood Township and her body was found on September 1st. A week later, September 8th, Addison Hunt, 17, was abducted after she went out for a run in East Rutherford and her body was recovered on November 4th. On November 11th, Sophie Peck, 19, went missing, also while running, this time from Aberdeen. Her body was found on March 6th. A week later, on March 13th, Tracey Cole, 17, was abducted from Independence Township, and her body was found on June 30th. On July 6th, our most recent victim, Haley Putnam, 18, went out for a jog in Quinton, New Jersey. Her body was found two days ago, November 9th. The police hadn’t previously connected the murders because they were in different precincts. When they sent us the file it only contained Annabelle Daniels and Haley Putnam, but it seemed odd that a serial killer would go dormant for that long, so I talked to Garcia and she found the five other murders. All of the girls were found in dumpsters behind grocery stores in the same county that they went missing in, all wrapped in a white sheet. Local authorities already checked for DNA, but they came up empty. All of the girls were within the same age, height, and weight range, and they all had long brown hair. When they were found there were ligature marks on their wrists and ankles and large gashes on their inner thighs which were presumably made by a regular kitchen knife. There was evidence of repeated sexual assault on all of the victims, but there was no semen left behind. When the bodies were found, there was no blood on the sheet, so they had to have been dead when he wrapped them in it, and there was no blood on the bodies either. Police are assuming that he washed the bodies before dumping them.”

“Forensic countermeasure?” Derek asked.

J.J. nodded. “It looks that way. It keeps the blood from getting in his vehicle or on him. Local authorities believe that the bodies were dumped late at night or early morning, because they were found when employees went to take out the trash.”

“This unsub is extremely organized. He manages to kidnap these girls in public parks in the middle of the day and then keep them hidden for months before he dumps them in public places. He knows what he’s doing. He has spent years perfecting his skills. Have Garcia look for any bodies that were found exactly one week before Annabelle Daniels was taken. Keep going back from there, and see if you can find anything. The MO and signature don’t need to match, necessarily. He’s been evolving, and for all we know there may be more victims that we haven’t found yet. We need to get there soon. Wheels up in 30,” Hotch told the team.

Everyone nodded, leaving the conference room to grab their go bags.

Quinton, New Jersey - November 11th, 2013

“Detective Alayna Welch?” J.J. asked as she walked in to see a woman standing, waiting at the elevator. The rest of the team followed behind her. “I’m Agent Jennifer Jareau, we spoke on the phone?”

Detective Welch nodded. “Of course. Thank you for coming.”

“These are SSAs Aaron Hotchner, David Rossi, Derek Morgan, and Doctors Spencer Reid and Alex Blake.”

“Thank you all for coming. I wish we had met under better circumstances. If you’d like to follow me I’ll take you to the rest of the detectives. Once we realized all of the crimes were connected I had the lead detectives on all of the cases come down here to meet with you. Since two of the kidnappings occurred in Quinton, we figured you’d have the most to look at here. The rest of the abduction and dump sites are all fairly close. An hour drive at most.”

Detective Welch lead the team into a room where a few other detectives sat. There was already a board set up on one side with information about each of the victims and another board with a map.

“Detective Brad Keys, East Windsor; Detective Alecia Garner, Eagleswood Township, Detective Roland Westcott, East Rutherford; Detective Tom Donaldson, Aberdeen; and Detective Brody Waller, Independence Township. They’ve come down to help to whatever extent you need them.” She gestured to each person as she spoke.

“I thought I was living in a peaceful state, or at least a peaceful town. Everybody thinks it can’t happen to them, but then it does. I used to be the lead detective at the NYPD, but I left because I hated the violent homicides. I came here for a fresh start six months ago, and two months in I was investigating the death of Tracey Cole,” Detective Waller said, looking up at Hotch. “I hope you can help us catch this son of a bitch.”

"We’re here to do just that.” Hotch turned to Reid, nodding towards the map. “I want you to get started on a geographical profile. Seven abduction sites, seven dump sites. We need to narrow down where we believe he might work or live and, if we have to, get other police departments involved. Morgan, I want you and Alex to visit the morgue and look at the bodies, see if there was anything that was missed. Rossi, you and I will go to the dump site of the most recent body. It’s been over two years since the first murder, so the other crime scenes are probably contaminated at this point.” Hotch turned his attention to the detectives in front of him. “Since there are so many bodies, we have been able to profile a few things already. First, this unsub is extremely organized. He keeps these women for months at a time and brutally tortures them, so it is likely that he lives somewhere secluded or he has a secondary location where he keeps them. Somewhere that nobody is going to hear them scream. His level of organization suggests that he plans the abductions months in advance.”

Reid nodded. “It’s likely that he frequents parks around the state and looks for women who fit his type. He probably comes back for days or even weeks in a row to figure out their routine. He might sit at these parks, just watching, for hours at a time. Once he chooses a victim and learns their schedule, that is likely when he kills he previous victim and moves on to the next one.”

“Until Haley Putnam, he always struck in different jurisdictions. The fact that he came back to Quinton tells us that it either has meaning to him, or that he is devolving. Possibly both,” Morgan explained.

“Lastly, a killer this good at what he does has probably had some practice. We believe that Annabelle Daniels was not his first victim. We have our technical analyst looking through VICAP for a woman whose body was found exactly one week before Annabelle Daniels was abducted. Although the signature of slashing the inner thighs is an important part of his murders now, it is likely that he evolved to that level of violence. It is possible that prior to her he had kidnapped and murdered other women,” Hotch explained

J.J. nodded looking around the room. “Please, keep what we have just told you to yourselves. Having so many different offices involved greatly increases the chances of this leaking to the media. It is in our best interest to keep this information under wraps. Currently, this case is not in the media, and we’d like to keep it that way. It is important that you keep the fact that we are here quiet, and that we tell the media that we are investigating the death of Haley Putnam as a single homicide. An unsub this organized could relocate if he thinks that we are onto him. Our best chance of catching him relies on him believing that we have no idea the murders are connected.”

Quinton, New Jersey - November 16th, 2013

“Hotch!” J.J. rushed into the room with a photograph in her hand. “Emilia Rakes, 18, from Oakland. She left home at six o'clock to go for a jog before school. Her mom says she does it every morning. Usually, she’s back by seven to get ready for school, but her mom says that she still hasn’t come home. It fits the timeline. He just took his tenth victim, including the first two that Garcia found.” She sighed.

Reid looked up, glancing at the picture. “Oakland?” he asked.

J.J. nodded, confused.

“Well, that changes the whole geographical profile. It narrows down the area.” He walked over to the map, drawing a dot on Oakland with a red marker. “Under the assumption that the unsub works a normal nine-to-five job which he lives within thirty minutes of, he would have to have abducted her between six and seven AM, giving him an hour and a half at the most between Oakland and his own home. If you include Oakland in the geographical profile, the only area that overlaps between all ten of the abduction sites and the nine dump sites as a possibility is Ridgewood, New Jersey,” he explained.

“Get that information to Garcia. Look at men between the ages of 40 and 45 in Ridgewood who have had prior arrests for rape,” he ordered.

“I’ve got one hundred and seventeen names, Reid, you’re going to have to do better than that!” Garcia told him. “Okay, um... Only men who have a normal nine-to-five job,” he told her.

“Well, that narrows it down a bit. Thirty six. Anything else?”

“It’s pretty likely that the unsub owns multiple properties,” Reid added.

“Okay. That’s it. Three names. Joss Church owns a house in Ridgewood where it seems he lives with his wife and three kids, and he also owns an apartment in Oradell which it seems like he rents out. Um... Oil Savege was convicted of statutory rape in 1990. He was twenty years old and his girlfriend was seventeen. Her parents pressed charges.”

“It’s highly doubtful the charge would have been statutory rape, especially with a girlfriend. What’s the last name?”

“Oh... Oh God. Brody Taylor, 41, owns a house in Ridgewood where he lives with his wife, Linda, and daughter, Y/N, and an old car repair shop that has been shut down for years. He inherited it from his father, Jared Taylor, when he died in... December of 2010, one month before the first girl was abducted. And... he was charged with aggravated battery and attempted rape in 1992. Apparently he attempted to rape a 19 year old girl who... oh god... was out on a jog in the park.” She sounded terrified, as she usually did when looking at the god-awful things that came with this job.

“Garcia, I need-”

“Home address and the address for the repair shop have already been sent to you and the rest of the team.”

(Y/N)’s POV

I was in the kitchen making lunch when I heard the knock on the door. When I opened it, I saw a man and a woman standing in front of me.

“Ma’am? I’m Dr. Alex Blake with the FBI, and this is Dr. Spencer Reid, we’re looking for Brody Taylor.”

“He uh... He’s not home right now. He’s at work. My mother is too. Can I help you? FBI?” I was confused, to say the least. What was going on? Why were the FBI knocking on the door and asking to speak to my father?

“We’re investigating a series of homicides. Ten women over the past three years. We’d like to speak with you if that’s alright?” the man asked.

I nodded apprehensively, opening the door further to let them in.

“Wh-why do you think I would know something about these murders? Why do you think my dad knows something?” I was confused. I had heard about a girl who had gone missing in Oakland recently, and a girl that they found dead in Quinton, but beyond that I hadn’t heard anything. Ten murders? All connected? Wouldn’t people have said something about that by now?

“Right now we just want to talk to your father. We think he might have some information about the man who may have hurt these women.” The woman sounded condescending, like she thought that I couldn’t understand what was going on, or like I couldn’t handle the truth. For some reason, I felt like she was lying.

“You don’t think he did this?” I looked at the man she had introduced as Dr. Reid, hoping he would be honest with me.

“We don’t know right now. All we know is that a lot of people have been hurt, and there’s a girl who’s missing right now, and all we want to do is help her. Do you mind if we ask you a few questions?”

He didn’t say it outright, but I knew. They suspected him of this. At first, I didn’t believe it, but then I thought back. Over the last three years? After my grandfather died, he had become more distant. I had always thought that it was just because losing his dad was hard on him; they had never been close, I don’t really know why I had thought that, but I guess it was easier to believe than the alternative: this.

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fashiontrendin-blog · 6 years

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The Definitive Guide To Terrace Fashion

http://fashion-trendin.com/the-definitive-guide-to-terrace-fashion/

The Definitive Guide To Terrace Fashion

Ordinarily, getting kitted out head to toe in your most expensive clothing might be something you’d reserve for a date, a wedding or a black-tie event. However, if you were a devotee of terrace fashion, a matchday trip to the pub would be the only excuse you’d need to get yourself suited and booted.

Of course, by “suit” we mean a grand’s worth of designer Italian outerwear and by “boots” we’re referring to hen’s-teeth-rare Adidas trainers. Because the terrace lads’ definition of finery is a far cry from your standard Savile Row tailoring.

Followers of this subcultural movement refer to themselves as “casuals”. To the layman, they’re football fans who choose to clad themselves in designer “casual” clothing rather than their team’s colours. In the early days of the late 1970s, this was done in order to more easily infiltrate rival firms for fights – something that has seen the term become synonymous with hooliganism and thuggery.

But not all casuals are or were hellbent on weekend, lager-fuelled barbarity. For many, their love for the scene revolves around the fashion and music. Scratch below the surface and you’ll find there’s more to terrace fashion than just flying fists and Stone Island logos. In fact, the scene has influenced modern menswear in ways you probably weren’t even aware of.

The Rise Of The Casuals

Terrace fashion has its roots in the late 1970s. The success of English football clubs saw young fans travelling overseas to Europe for matches and developing a taste for new and exotic sportswear in the process. They brought it back home, others saw and wanted it, and so the cycle began. This was really the beginning of hype sportswear.

The subculture developed its own uniform and a selection of core brands. “Farah, Lois, Diadora, Nike, Adidas, Puma, Sergio Tacchini, Fila, Ellesse, Cerutti 1881, Australian, Lacoste, Lyle and Scott, Pringle, Kappa,” says Neil Primett, owner of 80s Casual Classics, a dedicated casual shop that has supplied wardrobe to films such as The Firm, This Is England and The Business. “These are the labels that made up the outfit of your typical 1979-to-1985 casual.

“Exactly where it started is more difficult to say. I could not pin this on any one place.”

Many credit Manchester as the birthplace of terrace fashion, others namecheck Liverpool. Wherever it began, one thing was for certain: this new way of dressing was offering young, working-class men a space where they could engage with fashion.

“Then we got into one-upmanship,” says Primett. “It was all about who had the best and the latest gear. You might have started out wanting the best Patrick football boots to be like the best footballer. Next thing you know you were after the latest must-have Patrick cagoule. And so it continued.”

The Evolution Of Terrace Fashion

The one-upmanship meant that terrace fashion evolved quickly, especially during the 80s. “The style changed rapidly and dramatically,” recalls Gary Aspden, a footwear designer and brand consultant for Adidas, and cult figure in terrace fashion. “It went from skin-tight jeans to flares to a tapered fit to a 501 fit to a loose, baggy fit – all in the space of a decade. It would literally change overnight. It was street fashion in the truest sense. You had to be part of it to keep up with it.”

During the 90s, cornerstone brands such as Sergio Tacchini and Fila gave way to the likes of Stone Island and CP Company. High-end names, such as Prada, Burberry, Aquascutum and Gucci also began to creep into the stands as casuals continued in their bid to outdo each other.

However, the constant peacocking wasn’t to last. The advent of new technology and online auctions saw previously rare items becoming more easily obtainable and the casual look plateaued. “The playing field is so different to how it was when I was a teenager,” says Aspden. “And that’s down to the internet.

“Nowadays casual style has a much more set look and whilst it still exists there isn’t the same urgency in the style one-upmanship that used to go on. The only two brands I can think of that had the longevity to maintain their relevance right the way through were Adidas and Lacoste.”

Terrace Fashion In Modern Menswear

Today, terrace fashion has swaggered out of the stands and into the mainstream. Brands that once had heavy links to football violence have shaken off those negative connotations and become more accessible. It’s the result of the casual look moving beyond its sports-tribe roots and becoming a lifestyle for style-conscious men.

It’s something that Aspden recognises from his work on Adidas’ Spezial line – a collection of clothing that has been bringing casual style to a wider audience. “With Spezial we acknowledged that there is a hardcore Adidas-dedicated audience here in the UK and across Northern Europe that has its roots in casual style and bears little relation the sneakerhead-hype-basketball-inspired sportswear culture that permeates the US.”

Music has also had a huge part to play in opening the casual uniform up to a wider audience. The advent of acid house in the late 1980s and early 1990s brought sportier styles and big logos into the spotlight, while artists such as Liam Gallagher, the Stone Roses and Kasabian have all played a part in keeping the style alive today.

Terrace Trainer Culture

The word “sneakerhead” probably isn’t something you’d tend to associate with the rain-battered terraces of English football clubs, but trainer culture is rife in this country thanks to the casuals. However, while traditional sneaker enthusiasts fawn over all things Nike and New Balance, for the terrace fashion set there’s only one brand worth striving for.

“Adidas has always made the best football products and for me that is at the root of it,” says Aspden. “Where I grew up, when the whole terrace thing kicked off in the late 1970s, it was young kids that adopted the brand’s football shoes as a fashion staple.”

Most of Aspden’s generation were introduced to Adidas footwear through football shoes like the Kick, the Mamba, the Bamba and the Samba. As the 1980s rolled on, all manner of Adidas styles became popular – not just football-inspired models. “We were wearing everything from tennis, running, training, indoor and even the leisure shoes that Adidas made at that time,” Aspden remembers. “There was also a huge subculture of kids travelling over to Switzerland, Austria and Germany to get hold of Adidas trainers that weren’t available in the UK.”

After spotting the demand, savvy retailers such as Liverpool’s Wade Smith and Manchester’s Oasis (not the band) circumvented the company and began importing Adidas shoes themselves. This opened things up to a wider audience and made copping rare trainers more manageable for UK enthusiasts, further cementing the brand with the three stripes as the go-to for casual footwear.

“I think most terrace lads like the simplicity of that Adidas aesthetic from the 70s and 80s,” Aspden adds. “Adidas footwear is synonymous with casual style in the same way that Doc Martens are synonymous with skinheads.”

It’s a trend as evergreen as Converse All-Stars, but even so, the modern obsession with retro sneakers has brought 80s and 90s styles back into fashion.

Key Pieces

The typical terracewear aficionado’s wardrobe will be packed to bursting point with expensive coats, technical jackets and rare trainers. However, the bulk of it can be divided up into seven distinct categories. These are the key styles you need to know about.

Mac

If you’ve ever been unfortunate enough to have seen Green Street, there are likely two things you remember about Charlie Hunnam’s football-firm-boss character. Number one: his shockingly badly acted Cockney accent. And number two: his pristine, Stone Island trench coat.

In the 1980s, casuals made a move toward British luxury brands, the two main ones being Burberry and Aquascutum. These two labels are known for producing some of the finest long-length outerwear and it wasn’t long before beige, knee-length coats were flooding football grounds.

In more recent years, the style has lost ground to more technical styles but still remains a cornerstone of casual culture.

Hooded Jacket

The north-west of England is arguably the spiritual home of terrace fashion. Rainy, outerwear-loving cities like Manchester and Liverpool gave rise to the casuals and as such, the scene’s affinity for anoraks and cagoules is deep rooted.

Terrace fashion is about two key things: who’s go the best clobber, and keeping the elements at bay while watching the match. This set of requirements has seen high-quality, high-end hooded jackets become the defining garment of the scene. Brands like Stone Island and CP Company have become the gold standards, but sailing and outdoor brands such as Henri Lloyd, Fjallraven and Paul & Shark are also popular.

Track Jacket

Before all the Aquascutum trench coats and CP Company goggle jackets, the humble track jacket reigned supreme in the casual’s wardrobe. This sporty, retro piece is still a common sight at matches today, but it was when fans started bringing tracksuits back from trips to Europe in the late 1970s that it really go a foothold in the subculture.

Italian brands like Sergio Tacchini, Ellesse and Fila soon came to define the look. The fact that these names weren’t available in the UK at the time only made them all the more appealing to young football fans keen to outdo one another in the fashion stakes.

Jeans

While corduroy trousers and even flares have enjoyed waves of popularity in terrace fashion, it’s straight-leg denim that has prevailed. Ever since the early days in Liverpool, jeans have ruled the roost and as the casual look continues to evolve, so does its followers’ taste in denim.

Traditionally, mid-wash and stonewash fabric from Emporio Armani was probably the most widely worn – almost an afterthought to an expensive jacket and nice pair of trainers. However, today’s terrace-fashion aficionados are more clued up on their weights and wefts, often opting for heavy, raw denim from dedicated brands like Edwin and Nudie.

Scarf

A multipurpose accessory, useful for both keeping the chill off on wintery terraces and obscuring faces before and after a post-match scuffle, the scarf is deeply entrenched into the casual way of life.

Often worn to cover the nose and mouth, checks and tartans are what it’s all about. British brands, such as Burberry, Aquascutum and Barbour are all popular choices and are still a common sight at football grounds today.

Cap

For those casuals intent on fighting, baseball caps have always provided another handy means of keeping their faces hidden from CCTV cameras and police patrols. This practical use has seen the cap permeate terrace fashion making it the headwear of choice for for both violent and peaceful terrace lads alike.

Again, Burberry is a favourite brand, due to its luxury price tag and distinctive all-over check branding. Meanwhile, Polo Ralph Lauren and Lacoste are solid options at the lower end of the price spectrum.

Trainers

Terrace fashion is probably at least fifty per cent about the trainers. Having the most sought-after kicks is a huge part of causal culture and although the Reebok Classic is a staple option, it’s Adidas that rules the roost as far as footwear is concerned.

Classics like the Gazelle and the Samba have remained popular over the years. But during the early years, young fans were often travelling back and forth to Germany to pick up rare models that couldn’t be found in the UK.

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gameplayandtalk · 4 years

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Tetris Effect: Connected - Review

2020 hasn't been the greatest year for... well, humanity. But it is shaping up to be a great year for Tetris players.

The last decade has had some ups and downs as well: Tetris Ultimate from Ubisoft was destined to be the new mainline Tetris game of choice, but was plagued by issues early on and failed to excite the fanbase. The popular “Tetris Friends” website was phased out in the middle of 2019, leaving a hole in the multiplayer online scene. Then there are some bright points: Tetris 99, the collaboration between Arika and Nintendo, brought Tetris into the battle royale scene for Nintendo Switch players free of charge (as long as you had an online membership.) Fan-made Tetris “inspired” clones (essentially Tetris in all but name) such as JSTris and Tetr.io have also sparked a resurgence in the online multiplayer scene with robust customization options and stat-tracking.

Another bright spot (like, REALLY bright — think lens flares and supernovas) was Tetris Effect, a VR Tetris experience. It’s safe to say nobody really asked for it, but there it was, and it was beautiful. It wasn’t simply Tetris with a new coat of paint though: Tetris Effect had plenty of new modes that kept veteran players coming back.

In Tetris Effect, the main single player campaign known as “Journey Mode” featured a new signature mechanic: the “Zone Meter”. This meter charges up as you clear multiple lines or perform combos, and once activated, the action freezes on-screen, allowing you to rack up as many line clears as you can before the meter runs out. Instead of disappearing, the finished lines sink to the bottom and glow. The resulting clears are named depending on the number of lines cleared, such as Octotris (8), Decahextris (16), Perfectris (18) and the very-difficult-to-achieve Ultimatris (all 20 rows). Unless you’re working your way from the bottom to the top, you will quickly run out of room as the clears push your board out of playable range, meaning your placement to achieve an Ultimatris must be perfect.

This board clearing mechanic, along with other great new single-player modes such as Purify, solidified Tetris Effect among fans of all types who had previously seen it all. However, Tetris Effect had no real multiplayer mode, and when Tetris 99 arrived on the scene about four months later (seemingly out of nowhere), it grabbed the spotlight in a big way.

Now, almost two years after Tetris Effect was initially released, Tetris Effect Connected brings back everything that made the original great, along with some of the most innovative multiplayer the series has ever seen. And the long wait was so incredibly worth it.

Let’s get the unfortunate news out of the way: People who already own Tetris Effect on PS4 or the Epic Store release on PC won’t be able to play Tetris Effect Connected on the legacy versions until the summer of 2021. In another casualty of timed exclusives, you will need to play Tetris Effect Connected on either Xbox One (and above) or on PC via the Microsoft Store, where Tetris Effect is appearing for the first time. Yes, just in time for the Xbox Series X/S launch.

I can’t imagine fans of this game will want to drop full price again to play it on a different platform, new modes or not. Luckily, the game is included with Xbox Game Pass as well as its PC counterpart. PS4 owners will likely be stuck shaking their fists until Summer, but for those of us who have already been playing on PC, I really recommend you go with this option and just install it again. Xbox One and new Series S/X users have absolutely nothing to lose.

Getting “Connected”

The centerpiece of Tetris Effect Connected is the new “Connected” mode. This mode actually isn’t competitive at all, but cooperative. While this isn’t the first time a version of Tetris has adopted a co-operative mode (Tengen’s version of Tetris for the NES and Tetris the Grandmaster 2’s Doubles mode come to mind), this mode is balanced in such a way that avoids that overbearing “too many cooks in the kitchen” feeling. Teams of three are matched together to take on several AI controlled bosses named after zodiac signs.

The action starts with each of you controlling your own boards, trying to charge a shared meter between the three of you by making clears. As you do this, the AI is charging its own meter that hits all human players with various status effects. These can range from things as simple as dropping random junk onto your screen, all the way to making your entire playfield temporarily invisible. Oh, and it is as hard as it sounds (Luckily, you can still see about where your piece will land in relation to the board thanks to the still visible “ghost piece”). Nevertheless, this is what tends to wreck most Connected players, if limited online experience up to now is any indication.

Your best chance against these zodiac-themed killer CPUs is to get your shared meter up to full charge and enter this mode’s spin on the “Zone” mechanic. The music motif will ramp up and prepare you to get in the zone, which happens automatically within a few seconds of maxing out the meter. Then, your boards collapse down, leaving no gaps in the columns, and all player boards are combined into one giant board.

The objective, much like elsewhere the Zone mechanic is used in the game, is still to clear as many lines on the board as you can, but this is much harder considering the now huge width of the board, and the fact that each player takes turns placing their own blocks. The first time you see it, you’re likely to feel completely stunned, but it’s important to keep dropping blocks. You’re likely to get a few third wheels on your team who take all the time in the world looking for the perfect spot, but the perfect placement rarely exists. The best strategy is just to keep moving, and if someone does accidentally foul up your progress placing over a gap, there are shining purple blocks randomly given out to the players that will push down all columns under them to iron out the kinks in the board. You’ll likely have to get your meter back up several more times to make each AI boss top out, so it’s important to stay diligent.

If that wasn’t enough, log in during what the game calls a “full moon” phase. Tetris Effect players might remember that on Saturdays, playing “Effect Mode” games online had a special collaborative leaderboard feature for a subset of the game’s many special modes, and if enough people sent in their high scores, a special goal would be met. Tetris Effect Connected also has a special feature for you on Saturdays: Connected Vs. mode. This time, a fourth human player takes the place of the boss AI character. Human bosses are even harder to take down, and there are special unlockable avatars for players who can rack up boss wins with the different types of zodiac characters.

Of all the modes on offer, “Connected” seems to take it home: Co-operative Tetris play has rarely been tried, and yet it just works here. The shared torment of all the status effects raining down on you and your teammates, combined with the rush of taking turns completing a giant board, brings about a feeling of camaraderie that is unmatched. That is, when you’re not yelling at the slackers to “JUST DROP IT SOMEWHERE!” You’ll also have, like in all modes, a letter grade and stats waiting for each player after the match, to show just how much you were carrying your team. It’s as competitive as co-op can get.

The game’s take on the standard “versus” mode is also something you can’t get anywhere else. You’ll be sending garbage to your opponent like usual, but you’ll also be building up a zone meter to use against each other. This mode is named “Zone Battle”.

Admittedly, the first time I saw the zone mechanic in single-player, it was charming but felt a bit supplementary. However, nailing a Perfectris in a match against another player (I’m sure some are crazy enough to try an Ultimatris in a heated match, too) is akin to the rush of pulling off a “Fatality” in Mortal Kombat. The feature makes so much more sense in this context. When you hear your opponent beginning a zone attack, going a note up the scale each time a line is cleared, you know something big is coming, and you’d better have something to counter it, preferably starting your own zone attack. Being a master at traditional versus Tetris isn’t a guarantee you will succeed here, as a well-timed and effective zone attack can quickly change the tide of battle.

The last two modes are Score Attack and Classic Score Attack. This might be what ends up sealing the deal for most Tetris maniacs. Amazingly, Classic Score Attack feels just like watching a match of Classic Tetris World Championships on Youtube. With the help of CTWC veteran Greentea, the developers were able to adapt the feel of NES Tetris to Tetris Effect, while still being its own thing.

It’s important to know just how different Tetris is between these two generations. In modern Tetris, the pieces are handed out in what is known as “7-bag”: You’ll get some configuration of the seven pieces randomly dispersed and then handed out again. This means another long block is never more than 12 pieces away. No such thing in classic Tetris: the pieces can feel truly random here, and you could be waiting forever in what competitors call “droughts”. Your longest drought will be counted up and presented at the end of the match along with your rate of “Tetris” clears as a percentage, among other info.

Obviously, there is no holding pieces, but also no hard-dropping (instantly dropping your piece), and your pieces will lock into place nearly as soon as they hit another piece. Most important to remember is the dramatic difference in scoring between “Tetris” clears and all other line clears. As the game gets faster, “Tetris” clears are worth more and more. It’s good to start stacking for Tetris’ early and often if you want to win. All of this is made even more foreboding by the spine-chilling remix of the classic theme.

If you wanted the feel of competitive NES Tetris at home, you would have to set up two systems and tube TVs back to back, whereas this mode truly brings the experience home by counting up the points for who is currently in the lead and by how much. It was wholly unexpected for Tetris Effect to try to tackle classic Tetris, but they completely nailed it. If this sounds like hell, and you’d rather be setting up Triple T-Spins, the regular Score Attack is also available to settle the score with other players.

As far as complaints are concerned, matchmaking in the “Connected” mode seems to have dropped off since launch. This is perhaps because tackling the hardest modes is best suited to a proven team of online friends.

Also, as of this writing, in both score attack modes, the game has been designed to let a winner continue playing even after the loser has topped out and is no longer able to play. This is leading to a lot of people closing the game out of impatience, as they have no other option but to let the winning player keep playing while they watch for the final results. If a topped-out player does this, the remaining player does not get credited a win, and their score ranking also goes down! I’m hopeful this will eventually be fixed, but in the meantime, be sure to top out once a losing player is no longer able to play. This is the best way to ensure that they will not try to disconnect and essentially take the win from you.

Another concern is more a request to developers for future updates than a warning for players, although it can be both. As I mentioned, it has become increasingly difficult to get matched up in the “Connected” mode. It’s easiest to find players at the first difficulty level, the only one available upon first entering the mode. However, some of these beginner players don’t seem to understand that your move once entering “the zone” isn’t complete until hard-dropping the block. I realize that some might not even know the default button for this, so from a design perspective it would be best to prompt players how to drop their block (along with the button assignment), especially if their move has taken an excessive amount of time. This will move the action along for the other players.

I would also like to have seen a multiplayer take on “Purify”, the game’s garbage clearing mode where you are tasked with clearing as many purple blocks as you can before the infection spreads. However, what is here is such a surprise.

Tetris Effect Connected is a labor of love by Tetris fans for Tetris fans, much like the many fan games out there. Certainly Tetris 99 was an upheaval of what people expected from Tetris, but thanks to this game and the popularity of CTWC and fangames, a complete resurgence of the game has finally been cemented. I may be preaching to the choir at this point, since most people reading probably already know of Tetris, but if it’s been a while, time to check back in. It’s better than ever to be a Tetris fan, and it seems we are here to stay. To those angry about double-dipping, yes, it is unfortunate. If you do take the plunge, however, I think you’ll be extremely pleased. I’m also confident the game will only get better from here on out!

See you on the battlefield. Thanks for reading!

Hi-Res Screenshots

#review #tetris #tetris effect #tetris effect connected #tetris effect multiplayer update

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awolfsrespite · 7 years

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A Family Test

Silently, the black clad Shadowstalker moved through the Orcish encampment in the mountains of Thousand Needles. The man sought out one person: Rykur Stonewallow, an Orc known for his large manufacturing of arrows, bows, and swords. The Orc and his operation amounted for 40% of the Horde’s arrow munitions, and 70% of arrows for the Kalimdor continent.

Sleight thoroughly scouted the encampment, he saw seven Orcs, three trolls, and five tauren. Five large huts spread a 2,000 square foot camp. Everyone there was hard at work, creating arrows and weapons at an impressive rate. Their products lined the walls, and several crates of arrows were filled by the hour.

The undead Elf eyed what was in front of him silently. He contemplated how he would complete his mission. A skilled assassin, the Elf prepared his weapon of choice: a steel dagger with a gold hilt. He pulled out a vial with a blue liquid, uncorked the vial, and poured it on the blade. The dagger began to glow a dim blue hue; Sleight held the dagger in his right hand and began to make his way towards Rykur.

One slice, that was all that Sleight had to complete his mission. The more natural or random he could make Rykur’s death, the better for him. The goal was that no one could tell a shadowstalker had assassinated him from the shadows; a feat that previously seemed impossible.

The Elf approached the large Orc and came up behind him. With an arm of experience, he raised his dagger, and brought the tip to the back of the Orc’s neck - inserted the blade into his skin, and pushed down to the Orc’s waist. The blade tore through his skin with ease, puncturing and ripping organs inside and breaking ribs as Sleight strongly pushed down.

Rykur suddenly let out a yell of pain and then fell dead. His hands were reaching for his back, yet his back seemed fine. There was no blood, no evidence of a wound, yet the Orc was dead. Sleight quickly left the scene and watched from 50 feet away. He watched as the other members of the camp quickly made their way to check on Rykur. He watched as they desperately tried to figure out what happened to their boss. Sleight smiled, they would never figure it out.

***

Orolian smiled as he relished in the success that he had created for his business. As the leader of a Military House, Orolian was given priority to provide arrows for the Sin’Dorei, and with the Reagent-Lord’s permission, a large part of the Horde and other Neutral Factions in Kalimdor and the Eastern Kingdoms. He grinned as he thought of this fact, eyeing the inside of a man-made cave in the Netherstorm that he had paid for. Soon, he would use his large influence of gold to further other operations he had in mind.

With him, was an Orc Warlock Female named Lithia of the Shadowmoon Clan. An experienced and powerful Warlock who Orolian took a liking to when he witnessed her power during the exploration of Dreanor. He recruited her and now uses her to create new techniques to help expand his market. The other was Alerion, or Sleight as he now liked to call himself. Thanks to Lithia, Sleight was there to accompany them. He doesn’t speak, and his face was rotten; like a forsaken, he had been brought back to life, but instead of having freedom, Sleight has to serve his older cousin.

“Lithia, I have to say, I am impressed.” Orolian spoke as he held a dagger in his hands, “Your alchemy skill is incredible, people still have no idea how all of these fletchers suddenly died. Healers are confused as to how someone can have their insides ripped apart, yet have no outside wound. Some are suspecting shadow magic; which I guess they aren’t entirely wrong.” Orolian grinned. In front of him, a table full of a variety of daggers, all neatly lined up in a row, with a row of vials with blue liquid on top of each dagger. “My question is, is there any way we can make this last longer?”

Lithia grunted as he watched Orolian muse. He wanted an even stronger version of her creation? What was he planning to do? Lithia had originally agreed to help Orolian do this when he told her he only needed to expand his market. It was a win-win situation, Orolian grew more rich, and Lithia got to explore and experiment new alchemy formulas, but Lithia had learned not to trust Orolian: the man was a sociopath. She walked closer to him and picked up one of the vials with blue liquid, “Perhaps. This isn’t easy to create, Flamearrow. But I can see what I can do.”

Orolian grinned, “Good! Then we can get my dear ol’ cousin over here to try it out.” Orolian looked back at Sleight and gave him a wink, “He’s been doing very good at following orders. I don’t know what you did to him, Lithia, but he’s probably stronger than me now.”

Lithia narrowed her eyes, “Exactly. So you’d best be more considerate of his situation.”

Orolian laughed, “Oh, I’m not afraid of him attacking me. Please, he wouldn’t. He knows I know too much about his personal life to do anything stupid like that.” Orolian smiled as he eyed the dagger from top to bottom. He grabbed one of the vials and removed the cork and placed the liquid on the blade. The liquid seemed to infuse itself with the blade; soon, there was a dim hue of blue that surrounded the entire blade of the dagger. He turned to Sleight and walked over to him, “Here, cousin. Try this on for size.”

Sleight took the dagger from Orolian and narrowed his eyes. He stood up and walked deeper into the cave, where their test subjects waited.

Deep inside of the cave was a holding area for Dreanei and Worgen test subjects that Orolian, Sleight, and Lithia had gathered. The prisoners were dressed in simple clothing that was easy to rip off, and they were all chained to the walls. Sleight walked up to one of the Dreanei females, and readied his blade.

Orolian chimed in, “Alright, I put more of the liquid on the blade this time. Slash her 3 to 4 times, I want to see how many times it’ll work.”

Sleight didn’t say a word, instead, he went ahead and slashed horizontally across the Dreanei’s chest. The female screamed in pain, but just as quickly as she was wounded, her skin healed. Sleight then sliced her twice, three, and four times. The first two slices skin healed immediately, but the third and fourth slice were very evident. Blood pooled beneath her, as she continued to yelp and cry out in pain. Sleight payed no attention to her sobs, he didn’t seem to mind it at all. He took a step back and held on to the dagger.

Lithia walked up to the female and placed a hand on her cheek, “Rest now child.” Her palm began to glow a dark green hue as she began to suck out the Dreanei’s remaining life force. In ten seconds, the Dreanei fell dead, soulless. Lithia examined the dead Dreanei, she ran her fingers on the wounds that externally healed, “Internal bleeding. It is working as intended.”

Orolian walked up to the corpse and examined the damage. “Mmmm, two slices only. I guess we can work with that.” He looked over at Lithia, “And this is as strong as you can make it?”

Annoyed, Lithia gave Orolian a nod. “Probably. Manipulating the body is no easy feat, Flamearrow.”

“Blah, that’s no good. Oh well, guess we will take what we got.” Orolian walked to Sleight and took the dagger from him, he turned around and looked at the remaining prisoners, “Three Dreaneis and Two worgens, five total; three males and two females. We may need more.” Orolian mused out loud.

Lithia and Sleight said nothing as he spoke, why would they? Orolian wouldn’t listen anyway.

“Let’s take a trip to Silvermoon. We have some business to conduct there.” Orolian walked back to the laboratory and picked up three vials and three daggers. He gave two of each to Sleight, and kept one of each for himself. He gave Sleight a nod.

Sleight walked forward and pulled out an engineering portal device, he picked the coordinates for Silvermoon, and opened up a portal.

The three of them walked through the portal and came out into Silvermoon City. They ported in the Bazaar, and surprisingly, it didn’t seem busy this time of day. The entire armada must be preparing to join the assault on Argus. Orolian pulled out the dagger and uncorked the vial, prepping the dagger again like he previously did. He gave the dagger to Sleight, “Alright, I want you to kill two of the auction masters. Apparently this liquid is strong enough to kill two people, so you should be able to pull this off. Make it as fast as possible, and try not to get seen.” Orolian handed them off to Sleight and began walking, “Lithia and I will wait out next to your grave. Come to us when you are done.”

Sleight took the weapon and then eyed Orolian silently. He never understood why Orolian liked to go to Alerion’s grave whenever they came to their home place; he figured it was to mock him, or make him remember his past life. Regardless, Sleight tried not to think about it, and instead did as he was told. Without a word he vanished into the shadows and made his way to the auction house.

The auction house was emptier than usual, but there was a fair bit of civilians attending the daily auctions. Many of these civilians were trying to buy food for as cheap as possible, others wanted to buy weapons in case some demons came into Eversong. None of them were soldiers, but they all knew how dangerous the Burning Legion is.

Sleight used his abilities to move undetected; he chose his two victims, and quickly used the shadows to teleport himself behind his first victim. With no remorse or hesitation, Sleight quickly reached in front of him and gave a clean cut across his throat, and just as quickly teleported behind his second victim and did the same thing.

Both Auction Masters reached up and gripped their throats, choking on blood as the insides of the throats were severely damaged, yet the outside didn’t seem hurt. They both spat out blood and fell to the ground. Everyone at the Auction House yelled in terror, the Silvermoon Guards alongside a few Farstriders arrived on scene quickly.

Sleight stood in the shadows and watched.

“This is Ranger-Lord Yelberos, what happened?” A confident, highly armored Elf arrived. He sprouted a beautiful bow, and Sleight assumed he knew how to use it.

“Sir! We are unsure. The Auction Masters suddenly fell, spitting out blood.” One of the Farstriders on scene quickly responded. The Silvermoon Guards started on crowd control and began calming down the citizens. The Auction House was quickly evacuated and closed.

Yelberos eyed the bodies and narrowed his eyes, “Perhaps Warlock magic?” He looked around, trying to find anyone who could stick out.

A different Farstrider responded, “Sir, Ranger-Captain Shalbalam here, I don’t believe so. The Arcane Guardian stationed right outside here detected no magic use. They were clenching their throats, as if they were being choked, or they had been wounded there.”

Sleight smirked. This was turning into quite the scene. He wasn’t entirely sure at what Orolian planned with this; causing panic didn’t seem to benefit him, but Sleight knew exactly how to turn it against him. He made sure to remain undetected, and dropped a dagger in front of the Farstrider group. He revealed himself for two seconds before vanishing again.

The Farstriders all came to attention at once, “Track him down!” Yelberos yelled, all the Farstriders immediately sprang to action, and ran towards where they believed Sleight had ran to.

As the Farstriders made their way to the entrance of SIlvermoon, they found an empty vial there, purposely left by Sleight. Yelberos stopped them, “He’s leading us somewhere. But why?”

Shalbalam narrowed his eyes, “An ambush?”

Yelberos growled slightly, “Perhaps.” There were currently seven Farstriders total, “Ranger-Captain, gather your squad. That should make 15 of us.”

Shalbalam saluted him and immediately pulled out a pendant and began saying orders. Soon after, his assigned squad was there with the others.

Yelberos gave him an approving nod, “Good. Let’s move out.”

---

Sleight had purposely left a trail that the Farstriders could follow. He soon made it to Lithia and Orolian and unsheathed the two daggers and vials and gave them to Orolian.

Oro smiled, “So I take it, it worked?”

Sleight simply gave him a nod.

“Good, good.” Orolian laughed, “Oh light, I can only imagine the panic in their faces. Fel, you did good, dear ol’ cousin.” Orolian sheathed the daggers and put away the vials. They were currently standing on a platform that was in the air due to magic; Orolian walked to the edge of the platform and looked over the horizon. “Lithia, Sleight, you are free to do as you wish.”

Sleight quickly looked at Lithia and grabbed her arm, beckoning her to follow. Lithia tilted her brow curiously at him but followed him. As they made their way out, Sleight provided a cloaking field that made both of them temporary invisible. Lithia became more confused as Sleight did this, but something told her to stay quiet and follow him.

They climbed up a mountain and made it to an area where they could see Orolian but remain undetected from anyone else coming. Lithia tapped into Sleight’s mind and spoke to him, “What are we doing, Sleight?”

Sleight looked at the platform where Orolian was out. “He deserves to be caught.” He said simply.

Lithia narrowed her eyes at Sleight but then smiled. “I agree.” She said simply as she sat down and watched. She had come to learn that the Flamearrows were very cunning and clever; she sat back, and waited to see what Sleight had planned.

Orolian stood eyeing the horizon. He took a deep breath and exhaled, “I am being betrayed.” He muttered out silently. He turned and walked to the other side of the platform; 15 Farstriders were making their way to him. He narrowed his eyes and walked out to meet them.

“Ranger-Captain Flamearrow! This is Ranger-Lord Yelberos. We are looking for a shadow stalker dressed in black. He murdered two Auction Masters at the Bazaar. We’ve managed to track him this far.”

Orolian looked up proudly at the Farstriders, he gave Yelberos a salute, “Ranger-Lord, I haven’t seen anyone.”

Shalbalam eyed Orolian curiously. His eyes immediately went on the daggers that looked exactly like the one he found earlier. He leaned in and whispered at Yelberos.

Yelberos narrowed his eyes, “Are you sure?” Shalbalam gave him a nod. The Ranger-Lord hopped off his hawkstrider and grabbed onto his bow, “Ranger-Captain Flamearrow, you are under arrest.”

Shalbalam and the rest of the Farstriders hopped off their Farstriders as well, each pulling out their bows, “Be careful. Flamearrow family members are bred to fight.” Shalbalam muttered as they walked towards Orolian.

Orolian sighed, “So my hunch was correct.” He muttered, but why would Sleight betray him? Was he testing him? Orolian was testing Sleight, so maybe this was his way of returning the favor. “Mmm, I’m sorry Ranger-Lord, but that isn’t happening.” He looked around; 15 versus 1. He clenched his fists, he did not like his odds. He eyed everyone in front of them; the majority of them looked like rookie Farstriders, Ranger-Lord Yelberos was a good fighter, and Ranger-Captain Shalbalam was laughable. He eyed the rookies quietly, Orolian could see fear in their eyes. He would use that.

“You aren’t going to arrest me. However, if you keep on trying, I will retaliate. Are we understood?” Orolian crossed his arms and tilted a brow. They were far enough where Orolian could vanish if they tried firing, and too far to arrest him just yet. His eyes were locked on their bows, none of them seemed to be preparing to fire. “Ranger-Lord, how often have you seen me fight? You know what I’m capable of. Please don’t make this harder than it has to be.”

Yelberos shook his head, “You murdered two civilians in Silvermoon. You will not be allowed to leave here without facing justice. I don’t care who you are, Flamearrow, you are a wanted criminal now.”

Orolian laughed, “Wow, you sure escalate quickly. I thought you said you were looking for a shadow stalker dressed in black? Last I checked my chainmail armor is red. Come on, Ranger-Lord, you’re getting old.”

Yelberos let out a low growl, “Rangers! Knock!” All 15 of them quickly knocked an arrow into place, “Aim!” They all aimed at Orolian, “This is your last chance, Flamearrow.”

Orolian grinned, “Fine.”

“Fire!”

As soon as the arrows flew, Orolian launched himself backwards and activated a temporary cloaking field that instantly made him vanish. None of the arrows hit him; instead, Orolian fell. He fell, and fell, and landed at the bottom of a canyon, but was relatively unharmed. Instead, he pulled out his bow and arrow and began firing arrows.

Orolian was still invisible as he launched arrows up the canyon, and skillfully hit three Farstriders, killing them instantly. The group began to panic; they had no idea where he was, and they were being picked off.

“Spread out! Keep your arrows ready, kill him when you see him!” The group spread out, but the arrows kept on coming.

Now, arrows were infused in fire and arcane magic came at them, the arcane ones erupting upon contact and the fire arrows burning the insides of the Farstriders. Five more fell. Eight Farstriders fell just like that.

Orolian finally became visible and he began to run for cover, it took the remaining Farstriders ten seconds to see him, and soon they began to launch arrows at him.

Orolian had managed to make enough distance to where the arrows were missing him. Not to mention the majority of the squadron were rookie Farstriders, Orolian didn’t feel threatened at all.

He found a tree and fled behind it, quickly activating a camouflage field and then he sat and waited.

----

Lithia and Sleight stood up on the mountain watching. Sleight smirked, he expected nothing less from Orolian, but part of him wished he would die. That would make life much more easier for him.

“He’s good.” Lithia muttered, “I always knew he was good, but not this good. Your cousin is a dangerous man.”

Sleight grunted but kept quiet; Orolian was not family to him, but he is a dangerous man.

“Should we help?” She asked as she crossed her arms and watched.

Sleights shook his head, Orolian could handle this by himself.

---

The Farstriders quickly caught up to Orolian’s location. “Spread out! Find him!” Yelberos shouted as he watched the surrounding areas; he had to be here, and he would get him.

The rookie Farstriders all spread out, but some of them seemed reluctant to leave the big group. This man had wiped out eight of them, and they all feared they were next.

Orolian leaned against the tree and watched as the rookie Farstriders all walked right past him. Yelberos and Shalbalam were the farthest from him, which was perfect. Orolian took out the two daggers and moved out of his camouflage; he ran up to the closest rookie Farstrider and stuck the blade into the middle of his back, pushing it in as deep as he could, before quickly running to a second one and doing the same. As they both fell, Orolian took out his bow and quickly fired two flaming arrows at two other rookie Farstriders, they fell just as quickly as well.

Orolian then ran behind a tree and hid again. There were only three left.

Yelberos looked around at the carnage, “Who are you!!” He yelled out, “You are no Sin’Dorei, you are a demon! How can you do this to your own people?!”

Orolian grinned but kept quiet. He enjoyed toying with them, and he could feel their fear building up.

Shalbalam picked up Orolian’s location and motioned to Yelberos. He was behind a tree. Shalbalam took out a sword and walked towards Orolian’s location, he would try to strike him as stealthy as possible.

---

Lithia grunted, “Mm, he doesn’t need us, it seems.”

Sleight smirked, he stood up and removed two sheathed daggers. Lithia looked at him and lifted a brow, “You’re going to help?”

Sleight gave her a nod. He then vanished and began running down to Orolian’s location.

---

Shalbalam, Yelberos, and the other Farstrider all struck at once at where they believed Orolian was, only to find it empty. “Shit!”

The last rookie Farstrider yelped in pain as he was impaled by a long polearm, Orolian then appeared quietly behind him, as he placed a foot on his back and pushed him off the blade. He grinned, “Come on, no bows, fight me with your melee weapons.”

Yelberos narrowed his eyes at him, “This isn’t a game Flamearrow. You’ve killed 13 Farstriders today, you will be brought to justice!”

Orolian smirked, “How? You are the only ones who suspect it's me. Shala-shit over there has the evidence, and you are all going to be dead after this. So, honestly? I think I am a free man.”

Shalbalam growled, “Fuck you!” He ran forward with his sword. Orolian stood at the ready, a savage grin on his face. He enjoyed fighting. So much.

Shalbalam suddenly fell before he could make it to Orolian. A black throwing blade impaled his throat, and he fell down, dead.

“No!” Yelberos threw down his bow and pulled out his sword, he looked around and found Sleight behind him.

“Sleight! I had this handled!” Oro yelled out with an annoyed roll of his eyes. “Whatever. Kill him.”

Sleight smirked and shook his head, he began to walk to Yelberos, two daggers in hand.

“Step back! I will retaliate!” Yelberos desperately yelled out, sweat began running down his temples.

Orolian laughed, “Oh please, you couldn’t beat me, you will never beat him. He’s better than I am, so good luck, Ranger-Lord.”

Yelberos growled, as soon as Sleight came into distance he lunged forward and swung his sword.

Sleight vanished from sight, dodging the large sword, and appeared behind Yelberos. He stuck two daggers on his back and pushed them down. Blood gushed from his back as Yelberos yelped in pain and soon fell lifeless.

Sleight removed his daggers from Yelberos’s now corpse and sheathed them. Lithia began doing rounds on the dying Sin’Dorei, sucking the remains of their souls and keeping them for herself. With each soul she drained, she felt herself become stronger.

Orolian walked to Sleight’s side, “You did this, didn’t you?”

Sleight gave him a nod.

“Why?”

Sleight smirked but didn’t answer, for obvious reasons.

Lithia walked down and met the pair, “Because you’re an asshole.”

Orolian scoffed, “Please. Am I an asshole because I care about my family’s well being?”

Lithia laughed, “Well considering you just say that, and really you are a selfish prick, yes, I think you are an asshole.”

Orolian grumbled but didn’t say anything. He sheathed his weapons and sighed, “Alright then. Back to work.” he smirked.

#WoW #Orolian #Alerion #Family #Treason #SMC #Writing for fun

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misterclandestine · 7 years

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My Favorite Stuff from 2017

It’s been a tough one, but there was a lot of awesome stuff that made it easier. Here are some of my favorites in no particular order.

DAMN by Kendrick Lamar, Album - The World felt different once this was in it. Kenny’s 4th release proved he’s just as thoughtful, agile, and hungry as ever.

everyone’s a aliebn when ur a aliebn too by Johnny Sun, Book - You can go through this hybrid graphic novel/picture-book in one sitting, but there’s so much to chew on here that I recommend taking time with this story, which follows Jomny, a misspelling aliebn sent to earth to study human behavior. The brief, direct interactions simply, & hilariously reveal everything beautiful and tragic about what it is to be alive.

Abstract: The Art of Design, Series - This Netflix series drops you into the lives of 6 masterful creators moving through subcultures of artistry (i.e Footwear Design, Illustration, Stage Design). Each revealing their varying methods, ideas, and joys about creativity. The standout episode follows Christoph Niemann, an illustrator for the New Yorker, and his blue-collar approach to his work.

Game of Thrones: The Spoils of War, TV Series - Though this season was rushed, clumsy and arguably unrecognizable from the compelling and prestigious drama that has unprecedentedly impacted our culture, you won’t find a more gripping hour of television. You know a show is wilding out when you don’t know who the hell to even root for anymore (Get em, Drogo! Wait, not Bronn! Wait, not the incestuous child killer!)

Insecure: Season 2, TV Series - The show you didn’t know you needed. Issa Rae’s hilarious dramedy paints a picture of what it’s like to be young, ambitious, unapologetic, lonely, intelligent, sexy, successful, and losing.

Last Week Tonight with John Oliver: Season 4, TV Series - Oliver’s weekly recap simultaneously manages to be enlightening, funny, depressing, and hopeful. His takedown of Alex Jones was one of the most satisfying things I consumed all year.

Do Not Disturb by Drake, Song - the final track of More Life, a surprise ‘mixtape’, samples ‘Time’ by Snoh Alegra, and is one of his most personal songs to date. Without a chorus, he raps for 3 minutes about not needing romance, fear of irrelevancy, and the quickening passage of time. Gracefully shifting between insecurity and arrogance with dizzying fervor, Aubrey continues to capture the emotional woes of an entire generation.

Get Out, Film - Jordan Peele’s directorial film debut is the rare instant classic, and it’s not because it has one of the most crowd-pleasing endings of all time. The satirical, social commentary cloaked in the guise of a horror comedy, refuses definition, and peels back layers of race, and class previously untouched in cinema.

Melodrama by Lorde, Album - With a kajillion pounds of pressure on her shoulders to follow up one of the best pop debuts of all time, Ella delivers. She croons on top of Jack Antonoff’s unruly production about heartbreak, fame, and the feeble impact of acclaim. As one Twitterer put it “I gain an extra chromosome when the beat drops in ‘Sober II’.

mother!, Film - I can’t say I enjoyed this movie because it was the second most excruciating sit I had at the theater all year (kudos to Justice League), but it left me SHOOK. It’s clearly allegorical, but what makes it masterful is that the way you take this movie in is colored almost entirely by your own personal experiences.

Master of None: Season 2, TV Series - A perfect double-feature to Insecure (give me a shared universe where Dev and Issa are a power couple). Ansari’s relentlessly entertaining series accomplishes what every second season strives for. It tops the first, while redefining and expanding itself. The show is tirelessly committed to the experiences of ‘others’ (a deaf person, a lesbian, a non-believing muslim, service workers in NYC etc.) It’ll leave you crying, laughing, and hungry.

Split, Film - When we’re lucky, films hit ya with “SURPRISE, muthafucka” moments that Jesus himself would not see coming. Shyamalan’s second hit in a row (after a run of all time duds) ends with one 17 years in the making. The iconic villain terrifyingly played with razor-sharp swiftness by the world-class James McAvoy is the icing on the cake.

Isaiah Thomas, Athlete - If not for Russell Westbrook’s record breaking response to Kevin Durant’s betrayal, the “King in the Fourth” takes home the MVP. Watching him play through tears the day after his sister died in a car accident will stay with me forever. His 53 point performance on her birthday a few weeks later starkly reminded me of the unifying, powerful spirit of sport.

Moonlight’s Best Picture Win - I’ll begin by saying that I really liked La La Land. A month after we swore in Don, we got it wrong again… psych! I’ll never forget the roller coaster of emotion that came over me in this moment. Barry Jenkin’s tale told through 3 untraditional acts (titled ‘Little’, ‘Chiron’ & ‘Black’) was gorgeously shot, flawlessly acted, and supremely helmed. It arrived at a time we needed it most and Mahershala Ali FINALLY got his shine.

Coco, Film - We got one shot this year, and we NAILED it. This breathtaking portrait of Mexican culture demands to be seen on the big screen and illuminates the importance of dreams, family, and tradition. No manches!

‘No Man’s Land’ scene in Wonder Woman - There were two times in the theater this year that I felt that sinking drop of a roller coaster in my belly, this was one of them. Gal Gadot and Patty Jenkins must be emboldened and protected at all cost.

Woody Harrelson, Actor - The rare movie-star actor quietly had a phenomenal year, further etching the grooves of his name into Hollywood lore. His turns in The Glass Castle, The War for the Planet of the Apes, and Three Billboards in Ebbing Missouri prove he’s STILL at the top of his game. I’m shocked that his heartbreaking portrayal of a drifting, alcoholic yet whimsical and passionate father in The Glass Castle hasn’t gotten more attention.

S - Town, Podcast - The colder you go into this one, the better. All I’ll say is that you’ll step away from this one feeling some type of way about people, the feeble sustainability of the planet, and clocks.

The World Series, Sports - The. Best. Ever. After being devastated by Hurricane Harvey, the Astros grant Houstonians some restoration via their first World Series Championship in a thrilling 7-game series that was literally witnessed by the World.

The Keepers, Documentary Series- This 7 episode series documenting the varying controversies surrounding the Catholic Church left me epiphanized about what it means to remove the seemingly impenetrable powers of institutions. Targeting one single individual, or a group of individuals or an organization won’t get it done. We must take down the viral ideas themselves.

Bladerunner 2049, Film - Aside from being wondrously constructed technically (you won’t see better production design or cinematography - give Deakins his Oscar now dammit), this story about a robot serves up a surprising amount of soul. Denis Villeneuve, solidifying his auteur status, delivers a nostalgic yet entirely unique follow up to the beloved sci fi classic.

‘Throne Room’ scene in The Last Jedi - This was the other time I felt like I was falling in the theater. Despite considerable problems, Rian Johnson showed us stuff we’ve never seen before in the SW universe. It’s the showdown you dream about as a kid.

The Big Sick, film - Kumail Nanjiani’s autobiographical story of how he met his lover is sorta the woke edition of Meet The Parents. Like Dev on MON, Kumail struggles to blaze trails while upholding loyalty to family and falls in love for a white girl along the way. Ray Romano and Holly Hunter turn in a pair of the year’s best performances.

Big Little Lies, Mini Series - I resisted the marketing for this one initially: dissatisfied, rich folk in Monterey. But the re-teaming of Jean-Marc Vallée (Wild, Dallas Buyers Club, Demolition) & Reese Witherspoon seemed promising. Momentum grew with each weekly installment (I overheard people theorizing whodoneit in restaurants), which is refreshing in the Netflix age. The leads are all stellar (believe the hype about Kidman) and Zoe Kravitz proves she should be working more.

Creature Comfort by Arcade Fire, Song - A painful examination of youth that’s equally heartbreaking and melodic.

Homecoming Season 2 - The fictional podcast about the remnants of a government coverup of a failed rehabilitation program for distressed veterans makes some questionable narrative choices in it’s second season and Oscar Isaac is absent throughout most of it (likely due to a loaded schedule). He does “appear” at the end of the second episode ‘CIPHER’, in a brilliant usage of audio storytelling, and it left me in puddles.

Mindhunter, TV Series - We all know Fincher is a technical maestro, but I don’t think he gets enough credit for being a complete storyteller, which he clearly is. The 13-episode made-to-binge Netflix series based off the book by the same name follows Holden Ford, an idealistic FBI profiler, and Bill Tench, played by Holt McCallany subverting every macho character role he’s ever taken on as a highly intelligent, hardened fed, as they attempt to break ground on our understandings of serial murderers. All of Fincher’s trademarks are there with sprinkled elements of Seven, & Zodiac.

Tyler the Creator’s Tiny Desk Concert, Podcast - I enjoyed ‘Flower Boy’, but didn’t find myself returning to it. That all changed after this. In a year of fantastic TDCs (i.e: Thundercat, Chance the Rapper) Tyler’s stands out. With help from a pair of stellar background singers, his array of talents are on full display, namely: composing and orchestrating melody and harmony.

Colin Kaepernick, Athlete - it’s not about the flag or the military don’t @ me.

20th Century Women, Film - Released wide in January, it remains one of the year’s best. Set gorgeously in 1970′s Santa Barbara, Mike Mills’ deeply personal tribute to motherhood, women, & outcasts overflows with heart.

Kamala Harris, (D) CA Senator - She is so bad, can we get started on the 2020 bumper stickers now?

What Now by Sylvan Esso, Album - ‘Hey Mami’ from their 2014 debut popped up on my Pandora one day and I was IN. Amelia Meath’s angelic vocals layered over Nick Sanborn’s unpredictable production is sublime. The “Echo Mountain Sessions” include dope af live recordings of the album’s standout tracks.

Logan, Film - The Wolverine movie we deserve also features a star-making performance from Dafne Keen and an unrecognizable Professor X. With a decade between the last time he inhabited his iconic portrayal of Charles Xavier, Sir Patrick Stewart strides (wheels?) back into the role with award worthy tact.

Fargo Season 3, TV Series - The best season yet and that’s really saying something. David Thewlis is haunting as Varga, the creepiest, most frightening villain in the series’ history and a collection of top-tier thespians rounds out the rest of the cast. There’s also a moment in one of the later episodes similar to the ending of ‘Split’ that’s a real delight.

Mr. Robot Season 3, TV Series - Showrunner Sam Esmail moves us through this complex dystopia, which has begun to bear resemblance to our reality lately, with complete CTRL. We see Mr. Robot AND Bobby Canavale like never before. That oner episode is pretty cool too, but it’s not even the season’s best.

Other Notables: Patton Oswalt: Annihilation, Girls Trip, The Leftovers Season 3, Glow, Twin Peaks: The Return, Ingrid Goes West, BEAUTIFUL THUGGER GIRLS by Young Thug, Add Violence by NIN, Good Time, Stranger Things: Season 2, Legion, Dunkirk, Crashing, NO ONE EVER REALLY DIES by N.E.R.D, 4:44 by Jay-Z, Dirty John, Wind River, Dear White People

FYI: I still haven’t seen/listened to a lot of stuff, namely all the big award contending films.

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angstalottle · 7 years

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Welcome To Voltron

What goes up must come down What goes down must come up again. And what is slowly moving towards you from the distance should be avoided. It’s getting closer. Too late to run now. Too late to do anything now. Welcome to Voltron.

Mayor Allura has asked me to remind you all that the floating acid spores that will be migrating through town later this week are not to be touched. We do not wish for a repeat of last years incident of children being carried off to please the spore god in the sky. The spores are not to be touched and doing so will warrant a visit from the secret police and a reprogramming while you sleep. However if the spores touch you, then be sure to hop on down to the community radio station for a free t-shirt for you to be sacrificed in.

I am receiving reports that a stranger has come to our quiet desert community. Who is he? Where did he come from? Why is his beautiful hair so perfectly tied back from his strong tanned face by something a simple as an orange headband. Can this beautiful stranger be trusted? Or has or doom come in the form of his strong muscular arms?

Old man Coran out by the used car lot has claimed to of seen angles. Of course since the town council has made it illegal to acknowledge the existent of angles he is surly mistaken. Either way Coran says these beings that may or may not be angles are all seven feet tall made of light and rock and that all of them are named Balmera. Oh and that one of them is black. He also says that they helped him change the government issued crystal that lights his porch and is now selling the old used crystal that had been touched by an angle. It was the black angle if that sweetens the deal for anyone.

Pidge my intern is holding up a piece of paper covered in strange unreadable symbols and gesturing wildly in the direction of the fish shaped clock on the wall. Not sure why since the hands haven’t moved from 13 o'clock for almost two months now ever since the time vortex passed through town destroying our entire concept of time passing… Does it still pass? Has time ever really passed? Or have we simply been decaying in a long endless loop? Oh I see! Pidge has now flipped over the paper to show that the meaningless symbols were in fact ancient Altean reminding me that there is a town meeting today at the time the sun is a loverly shade of brown with pink stripes going vertically not horizontally. As all good Voltron residents know this was not a previously scheduled meeting and not even i the voice of. Voltron know what the meeting will be about. Perhaps it has something to do with our neighbouring town and long time sporting rivals the Galra. While I try to figure this out I take you to the weather.:

I’m sitting in the back row of the autotiom of the local high school waiting for the town meeting to begin. Usually it would take place in the medieval castle surrounded by sentient lions that acts as town hall. However ever since the entire castle began to hover thirty feet up in the air no one has been able to actually return up there to try and figure out what’s going on. There has been some suggestion of using multiple ladders to reach the polished marble steps by numerous people who are all now in prison awaiting trail as we all know ladders have been illegal in Voltron since the great culling a few years back. Their trials have been delayed indefiently because the court house is also floating out of reach. My brother in law Keith Kogane has suggested that the floating is the work of some god and that there are symbols in the sky suggesting this to be true. Yeah well no ones interested in your dumb conspiracy theories Keith! Oh listeners the room has gone quiet as Allura has made her way onto the stage, stepping over the beheaded dragon set piece used in the drama clubs production of the life story of the Beatles. The blood still soaking the stage from the scene where Paul calls upon dark forces to defeat the invading robots is now staining the mayors long white cloak. She opens her mouth to speak but all that comes out is a low pitched wailing noise that sends shivers down not ones spine but their very soul. After a few moments she steps aside and well dear listeners I wish I could tell you exactly what happened next but im afraid that soon as I saw the strangers face I felt myself go into some kind of trance as I watched his lips move. I can’t explain it but… I was sure that in that moment I fell instantly in love. The stranger introduced himself as Hunk, explaining he was a scientist and was in Voltron because it was the most scientifically interesting town in America. After the ceremonial gifting of the four dozen chipmunk eggs Hunk the scientist left to go set up his lab in the empty building just across from the inter dimension bowling ally run by Slav. The inter dimension bowling Ally: just because in this reality you didn’t get a strike doesn’t mean the same a true in every reality.

Exciting news! When I arrived at the radio station this morning I was informed by Pidge that a stray cat has made her home in the men’s bathroom. Of course I ran straight there wanting to see the cuties and oh I wasn’t discounted. Let’s see like all cats she was a deep blue colour with metallic plating around her long poisonous spines. Her twelve eyes are a loverly purple colour and seem to be able to stare through solid brick. She was floating about five feet from the ground and unable to move, but she seemed to be able to reach the sinks for water and I had Pidge go out to pick her up some food so rest assured Blue, that’s what we named her will be well looked after. Hunk just dropped by the station! And I swear I almost died! He strolled in looking worriedly down at a beeping device in his hands. When he looked up he seemed surprised that their were people going about their daily business. He told me that he was picking up huge amounts of radiation from this location and that we should evacuate immediately! Which was silly, the readings were likely just coming from station management and no more deadly then the entity they they come from. He scratched his head and looked around for a moment before sighing and looking down at me with those big brown eyes of his. Then! You will never guess what happened! He pulled out a card and told me to call him if I noticed anything strange! Call him! Oh Voltron what a wonderful day! I got his number without even having to use one of my famous pick up lines on him! Such as on a scale of one to ten how free are you tonight? The secret police want to know if you feel repressed in anyway and likely to revolt? But no it wasn’t needed! He just smiled at me and I promised I would call if anything strange happened at all! I hope something strange could happen in our sleepy little town just so I could call him. Coming up next a man screaming in French for the next six hours. Good night Voltron. Good night.

#wtnv #au #will record when I can breath again #I have a chest infection #not fun #langst

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cathygeha · 4 years

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REVIEW

This is How I Lied by Heather Gudenkauf

Smash bang killed her in the first chapter BUT who killed her? Then, 25 years later her BFF is called in and told that new evidence has popped up after a boot, boot of the deceased cold case, has popped up. So, Maggie, laden and ready, nearly, to pop out her first born takes on the cold case of, “Who killed Eve?”

At this point I have to admit I promised to do a Book Review and Blog Post so…am taking a break from the riveting reading to post the review (not finished) and tell you why you should read this book.

What I like (so far):

* Maggie, she seems to be on the job, in the marriage, willing to do what it takes to solve the mystery of who killed Eve 25 years before

* Shaun: I think…haven’t seen enough of him yet BUT as a farmer and someone that Maggie is with…he probably is a good guy

* The writing – well done and can’t get back to the story

* That this is a cold case that might be solved with the use of DNA trace evidence on items saved from a previous crime scene

* Plenty of red herrings

* Wanting to get back to the story even though I should probably go to bed

What I did not like

* That Eve had to die to make this book happen, and that she suffered so much

* That the bad guy got away with the murder for almost three decades

* That I have not finished the book yet so have to return so I can find out what happened.

Did/Do I enjoy this book? Yes

Would I read more by this author? Yes

Will I finish the book? Yes…at least I hope to!

Thank you to NetGalley and HQN-Park Row Books for the ARC – This is my honest review.

4 Stars

BLURB

With the eccentricity of Fargo and the intensity of Sadie, THIS IS HOW I LIED by Heather Gudenkauf (Park Row Books; May 12, 2020; $17.99) is a timely and gripping thriller about careless violence we can inflict on those we love, and the lengths we will go to make it right, even 25 years later.

Tough as nails and seven months pregnant, Detective Maggie Kennedy-O’Keefe of Grotto PD, is dreading going on desk duty before having the baby her and her husband so badly want. But when new evidence is found in the 25-year-old cold case of her best friend’s murder that requires the work of a desk jockey, Maggie jumps at the opportunity to be the one who finally puts Eve Knox’s case to rest.

Maggie has her work cut out for her. Everyone close to Eve is a suspect. There’s Nola, Eve’s little sister who’s always been a little... off; Nick, Eve’s ex-boyfriend with a vicious temper; a Schwinn riding drifter who blew in and out of Grotto; even Maggie’s husband Sean, who may have known more about Eve’s last day than he’s letting on. As Maggie continues to investigate, the case comes closer and closer to home, forcing her to confront her own demons before she can find justice for Eve.

Buy Links:

Harlequin

Barnes & Noble

Amazon

Books-A-Million

Powell’s

EXCERPT

Maggie Kennedy-O'Keefe

Monday, June 15, 2020

As I slide out of my unmarked police car my swollen belly briefly gets wedged against the steering wheel. Sucking in my gut does little good but I manage to move the seat back and squeeze past the wheel. I swing my legs out the open door and glance furtively around the parking lot behind the Grotto Police Department to see if anyone is watching.

Almost eight months pregnant with a girl and not at my most graceful. I'm not crazy about the idea of one of my fellow officers seeing me try to pry myself out of this tin can. The coast appears to be clear so I begin the little ritual of rocking back and forth trying to build up enough momentum to launch myself out of the driver's seat.

Once upright, I pause to catch my breath. The morning dew is already sending up steam from the weeds growing out of the cracked concrete. Sweating, I slowly make my way to the rear entrance of the Old Gray Lady, the nickname for the building we're housed in. Built in the early 1900s, the first floor consists of the lobby, the finger printing and intake center, a community room, interview rooms and the jail. The second floor, which once held the old jail is home to the squad room and offices. The dank, dark basement holds a temperamental boiler and the department archives.

The Grotto Police Department has sixteen sworn officers that includes the chief, two lieutenants, a K-9 patrol officer, nine patrol officers, a school resource officer and two detectives. I'm detective number two.

I grew up in Grotto, a small river town of about ten thousand that sits among a circuitous cave system known as Grotto Caves State Park, the most extensive in Iowa. Besides being a favorite destination spot for families, hikers and spelunkers, Grotto is known for its high number of family owned farms – a dying breed. My husband Shaun and I are part of that breed – we own an apple orchard and tree farm.

"Pretty soon we're going to have to roll you in," an irritatingly familiar voice calls out from behind me.

I don't bother turning around. "Francis, that wasn't funny the first fifty times you said it and it still isn't," I say as I scan my key card to let us in.

Behind me, Pete Francis, rookie officer and all-around caveman grabs the door handle and in a rare show of chivalry opens it so I can step through. "You know I'm just joking," Francis says giving me the grin that all the young ladies in Grotto seem to find irresistible but just gives me another reason to roll my eyes.

"With the wrong person, those kinds of jokes will land you in sensitivity training," I remind him.

"Yeah, but you're not the wrong person, right?" he says seriously, "You're cool with it?"

I wave to Peg behind the reception desk and stop at the elevator and punch the number two button. The police department only has two levels but I'm in no mood to climb up even one flight of stairs today. "Do I look like I'm okay with it?" I ask him.

Francis scans me up and down. He takes in my brown hair pulled back in a low bun, wayward curls springing out from all directions, my eyes red from lack of sleep, my untucked shirt, the fabric stretched tight against my round stomach, my sturdy shoes that I think are tied, but I can't know for sure because I can't see over my boulder-sized belly.

"Sorry," he says appropriately contrite and wisely decides to take the stairs rather than ride the elevator with me.

"You’re forgiven," I call after him. As I step on the elevator to head up to my desk, I check my watch. My appointment with the chief is at eight and though he didn't tell me what the exact reason is for this meeting I think I can make a pretty good guess.

It can't be dictated as to when I have to go on light duty, seven months into my pregnancy, but it's probably time. I'm guessing that Chief Digby wants to talk with me about when I want to begin desk duty or take my maternity leave. I get it.

It's time I start to take it easy. I’ve either been the daughter of a cop or a cop my entire life but I’m more than ready to set it aside for a while and give my attention, twenty-four-seven to the little being inhabiting my uterus.

Shaun and I have been trying for a baby for a long, long time. And thousands of dollars and dozens of procedures later, when we finally found out we were pregnant, Shaun started calling her peanut because the only thing I could eat for the first nine weeks without throwing up was peanut butter sandwiches. The name stuck.

This baby is what we want more than anything in the world but I'd be lying if I didn't admit that I'm a little bit scared. I’m used to toting around a sidearm not an infant.

The elevator door opens to a dark paneled hallway lined with ten by sixteen framed photos of all the men who served as police chief of Grotto over the years. I pass by eleven photos before I reach the portrait of my father. Henry William Kennedy, 1995 - 2019, the plaque reads.

While the other chiefs stare out from behind the glass with serious expressions, my dad smiles showing his straight, white teeth. He was so proud when he was named chief of police. We were all proud, except maybe my older brother, Colin. God knows what Colin thought of it. As a teenager he was pretty self-absorbed, but I guess I was too, especially after my best friend died. I went off the rails for a while but here I am now. A Grotto PD detective, following in my dad’s footsteps. I think he’s proud of me too. At least when he remembers.

Last time I brought my dad back here to visit, we walked down this long corridor and paused at his photo. For a minute I thought he might make a joke, say something like, Hey, who's that good looking guy? But he didn't say anything. Finding the right words is hard for him now. Occasionally, his frustration bubbles over and he yells and sometimes even throws things which is hard to watch. My father has always been a very gentle man.

The next portrait in line is our current police chief, Les Digby. No smile on his tough guy mug. He was hired a month ago, taking over for Dexter Stroope who acted as the interim chief after my dad retired. Les is about ten years older than I am, recently widowed with two teenage sons. He previously worked for the Ransom Sheriff’s Office and I'm trying to decide if I like him. Jury's still out.

Published by Park Row Books

AUTHOR BIO

Heather Gudenkauf is the New York Times and USA Today bestselling author of many books, including The Weight of Silence and These Things Hidden. Heather graduated from the University of Iowa with a degree in elementary education, has spent her career working with students of all ages. She lives in Iowa with her husband, three children, and a very spoiled German Shorthaired Pointer named Lolo. In her free time, Heather enjoys spending time with her family, reading, hiking, and running.

Q&A

1. What is your writing process like?

I approach each of my novels with the goal of being a plotter – someone who explicitly organizes and outlines her books – but it never quite works out that way for me. I make notes and outline the plot but ultimately the characters take over and do what they want to anyway. My process is messy and meandering. Thankfully, I have a brilliant editor who is able to see through the weeds and pull out the best parts of my plots and keep me on the right path. This is How I Lied completely evolved from my initial intentions. The characters changed, the plot shifted and the final ending poked its head up near the end of revisions and I couldn’t be happier with the results.

2. Which came first: the characters or plot line?

For me, the two go hand in hand. The basic plot line comes first, and close behind comes the characters. It doesn’t matter how suspenseful of a plot I develop, if the right characters aren’t there to mold the story and carry it forward, it won’t work. Before I begin writing, I attempt to give my characters rich backstories. Often many of these details don’t make into the novel, but by fully developing their personalities and biographies, it helps keep me in tune with them as I write. Knowing the characters’ likes and dislikes, their foibles and strengths helps me to honestly and accurately determine their motivations and the decisions they make as they move through the novel.

3. How do you come up with your plots?

I’m a news junkie! I’ll scan newspapers and websites and a story will catch my eye. It can be the smallest detail or a broader theme but if the idea sticks with me and keeps harassing me to write about it, I know I’m on the right track. For my novel Little Mercies, it was an article about a social worker who ended up on the other side of the justice system because of alleged negligence with her caseload. From this I created an entirely new story about a social worker who was fighting for her own child. In This is How I Lied, I was intrigued by news stories that dealt with the use of familial DNA to solve cold cases and it became a key detail in the novel’s resolution.

4. Do you use music to help set a mood/tone for your books?

I do listen to music as I write. It varies based on the story and what I think the characters might listen to. By curating these playsets, it helps me get into their mindset. As I worked on Maggie’s sections in This is How I Lied I listened to a lot of Avett Brothers and Lumineers. For Nola, I listened to classical music and hard rock – she’s an interesting mix. As for Eve, since she was sixteen years old and living in the 90s, I listened to plenty of Nirvana and Beck.

5. Where did the idea for this story come from?

Before I started writing This is How I Lied, I read I’ll be Gone in the Dark by Michelle McNamara, about the author’s investigation of The Golden State Killer who, for decades, terrorized northern California. This book both terrified and fascinated me and I became intrigued by how modern technology was being used to close old cold cases. For my project, I thought it would be interesting to explore how this might play out in a small town where the perpetrator thought the truth behind the crime would never be discovered.

As I was writing the novel, I learned about the developments in a 40-year-old cold case not far from where I live where familial DNA was used to ultimately convict the killer. Amazing!

6. Do you find inspiration for your novels in your personal life?

I often get asked what my childhood must have been like because of the twisty thrillers I write. Thankfully, I can say that I had a blissfully uneventful childhood with parents and siblings that loved and supported me. For me, the inspiration from my own life comes in the settings of my novels – the Mississippi River, farmland, the woods and bluffs – all found in Iowa. In This is How I Lied, the town of Grotto is loosely based on a nearby town until I moved to this part of Iowa, I never realized that we had cave systems. Visitors to the state park, can literally step back thousands of years. The limestone caves and bluffs are beautiful, haunting and have something for everyone. You can take a casual stroll through some of the caves and have to army crawl through some of the others. Old clothes and a flashlight are a must! The caves made the perfect backdrop for a thriller and I was excited to include them in This is How I Lied.

7. What is the one personality trait that you like your main characters to have and why?

In looking back at all my main characters, though they are all different ages and come from different walks of life, I think the trait that they all seem to have in common is perseverance. I’ve had characters battle human evil and demons of their own creation but it doesn’t matter what traumatic events they have been through or the challenges they will face, they manage to make it through. Changed for sure, but intact and hopeful for the future.

8. Why do you love Maggie and why should readers root for her?

I do love Maggie! As a police detective, Maggie has dedicated her adult life to helping others and is a loving daughter, sister and wife and is expecting her first child. This doesn’t mean that Maggie is perfect. Like all of my protagonists, Maggie is complicated and flawed and has made some big mistakes, but ultimately she is doing the best that she can.

9. What is one thing about publishing you wish someone would have told you?

As a former elementary school teacher, I had absolutely no insights into the publishing world beyond what I saw on television and in movies – which portrayed it as a dog-eat-dog world. I have to admit, as a new author, I was very intimidated. But to my delight - and relief - the people I’ve encountered along the way– my agent, editors, publishing teams, fellow authors, booksellers and readers – all have been nothing but supportive, encouraging and kind.

10. What is coming up next for you?

I just finished the first draft of my next novel, a locked-room mystery about a reclusive writer working on a true crime book when a snow storm leaves her trapped inside her remote home, setting off a series of events that lead to a stunning revelation. It was so much fun to write!

11. Has quarantine been better or worse for your writing?

It’s been such a scary, unsettling time but I’ve found writing a nice distraction and a great comfort during this extended time at home. I’ve been able to turn off the news and get lost in my manuscript or other writing projects. It’s a lot like reading – a much needed escape from the real world.

12. What was your last 5 star read?

Julia Heaberlin has a new book coming out this August called We Are All the Same in the Dark and it has surged to the top as one of my favorite reads of the year. It has everything I love in a great thriller: a beautifully written small town mystery, with multilayered, unforgettable characters and a twisty plot. It was absolutely mesmerizing.

Social Links:

Author Website

Twitter: @hgudenkauf

Instagram: @heathergudenkauf

Facebook: @HeatherGudenkaufAuthor

Goodreads

THIS IS HOW I LIED

Author: Heather Gudenkauf

ISBN: 9780778309703

Publication Date: May 12, 2020

Publisher: Park Row

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runwildwithme · 8 years

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Feathers, Part 4

Hello again, lovelies!! I bring you part four of Feathers. As always, many, many thanks to @charminglyantiquated for creating @elsewhereuniversity and letting everyone play. :D Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Oh! I’ve also started cross posting this to AO3. you can find it here.

Enjoy!!!

Previously:

Slowly, slowly, he steps aside. You wave your group though the doors, nod as he makes the ‘I'm watching you’ gesture (you'd expect nothing less), and step through.

Part 4:

You spend four days in the library. Well. You spend four days-worth of hours in the library, only seven or so of which really pass. The books you sought were deep, deep in the library indeed.

It's Not-Jenna who finds the treatise, though you think she might not have done it on purpose. She was trailing her hands along the spines of the books you’d all already looked at, and knocked the last in the row off the table. She'd bent to retrieve it, and found herself at eye level with the tome.

(It really is a good thing you're so deep- the squawk she’d let out would have been enough to have you evicted, had a librarian heard it.)

As it is, it took Not-Jenna finding it, and Cat-Eyes to navigate the spell work keeping it on the shelf. You ended up having to pluck it out while Thirteen used a rolled up magazine to beat back the grasping tendrils that kept reaching for it until Not-Jenna and Cat-Eyes could find a different book of the same size to give to them.

You were all quite glad to retreat to the library’s cafe, after that.

(The cafe is not quite in the library- it shares a roof, certainly, but it is completely walled off, and you must leave the library to enter it. You were only a little surprised to find that the librarians’ protection did not extend to the cafe.)

(The cafe is sacred. Coffee and cream and other sweets, energy and nourishment, a meeting place, a place to rest, the traditional realm of story-tellers everywhere and when. It would take much more than what's going on now to violate the sanctity of the cafe. On this one thing, human and fae alike are in a singularly bloodthirsty agreement. The only other place on campus that is so incredibly off limits to the vagaries of fate and the profanities of people and fae alike is the bakery, for very similar reasons.)

(No, really- one time a window in the bakery was broken by a foul ball. Baseball no longer exists within the bounds of Elsewhere U.)

You all order drinks, give the barista their payment and try not to look too hard at their eyes or fingers.

The coffee is delicious.

You settle down at one of the tables in the back, out of range of the afternoon sun; spread out a few books and notebooks to distract from the thing you're actually here for.

‘So.’ Thirteen starts. ‘We have a book.’

Cat-Eyes hums, but looks to you. Not-Jenna is very specifically not looking at you. You think she might not have been supposed to find that book, accident or not.

The book is in the center of the table, and it looks old. Old enough that you are quite sure that if you could convince one of the science majors to do some testing, they might tell you the book is bound in something awful. Like human skin.

You flip the cover open, and the first few blank pages. You leave it open at the first page that has writing on it, stare a moment, and lean back.

The other lean in.

‘...what the fuck.’ Cat-Eyes opines.

Thirteen is confused, but, well, he falls closer to ‘jock’ than not.

It's Not-Jenna that voices it.

‘That's an author's note... in modern APA format?’

You nod, and point out the affiliation. Elsewhere University, Historical Studies Department. Breaking with format, there's no date anywhere to be found.

On a hunch, you flip back a page. The page that was formerly blank now boasts the title of the book in looping, fanciful script that isn't actually English but which you can all read nonetheless.

A treatise on the unique traditions and superstitions of the populations of Elsewhere University- the Underhill, the Overhill, and those in between. Volume 9- on theft, Theft, the differences therein, and the consequences for such Crimes.

By Robert Dove Scyt.

You all take a moment to digest that.

Thirteen speaks up.

‘Robert Dove Scyt? What a name, jeez. ...Oh. Oh, jeez, guys, Rob Dove Scyt. Robbed of sight.’

Oh. Oh my, you think. That is. That is quite a name indeed.

Quietly, Cat-Eyes asks, ‘Think he lived very long after getting that published?’

‘I think he lived for a very, very long time.’ Not-Jenna says, and there is nothing in her voice that speaks of happy endings. She doesn't look up from her coffee.

‘Maybe..’ Thirteen starts, and then trails off. You quite agree.

‘Well,’ you say, only ever so slightly louder than is perhaps necessary, gathering up poor, hopefully-dead-by-now-Robert’s book along with the few others you had out for camouflage into your book bag, ‘that's enough studying for now. We need to go put out out fresh milk. For the cat. Remember?’

The sun, at least, is high in the sky, and the others quickly make noises of agreement and follow you out. You lead your group straight back to Dorm 5, leaving offerings on every park bench, beneath every oak tree you pass, throwing a handful of nuts to the crows, leaving creamers on the picnic table no one ever sits at as you go.

When you get there, you lock the doors and the windows and salt the sills some more and establish your thresholds and light candles even though it's still plenty light out.

Dinner that night is ramen, with wontons from the freezer and soy sauce for dipping, because even Not-Jenna seems to want a little more salt in her blood after reading that. When you sleep, you sleep all curled up together.

---

When you all wake next, you all stay in your pile of blankets and page through the book together, passing it back and forth when the script becomes too much for human eyes.

It doesn't really tell you much more than you already knew- the rules are the rules, and they really haven't changed much at all. Still, it is nice to have a written copy of an account of the Chemistry Majors’ revolt. It is ..less bloody than you had believed. The price was paid in other ways. The other ways you read about hold ..promise is the wrong word. And yet.

The four of you spend all day like that, passing out mugs of tea to soothe throats and spirits.

As the day winds down- well, as the sun sinks closer to the horizon- you pass out mugs of spirits instead of tea.

Cat-Eyes calls a toast, grim-voiced.

‘To the History Majors,’ she says, and you all raise your mugs to clink against hers.

You drink your drinks, re-pour, drink again.

When you are comfortably floating, fuzzy, you stir, tell the others,

‘I think I have a plan.’

Not-Jenna’s eyes catch on the way you're fiddling with your crow pearls. She doesn't say anything, but she looks sad.

---

The next morning (well, when the sun is back in the sky, anyway. ‘Next’ implies the passage of Tuesday. It's still Tuesday.) you and Not-Jenna set out early, early in the morning with empty bags and backpacks. When you get back, it's nearing on ten, you're both out of breath and grass stained, and your bags are full to bursting.

Cat-Eyes and Thirteen cook breakfast, and then help you and Not-Jenna sort through the food you brought back. You all repack it into a bag, fold a blanket, find an umbrella.

You lead the others to the south quad, where you first started reading and singing to crows, set up your picnic, and wait. None of you eat.

It doesn't take long for someone to approach. You've laid out quite the spread, after all.

The thing that approaches first is pretending to be Professor Grant, from the art department. (You think Professor Grant must have an arrangement, for how frequently she's taken and returned.)

‘Hello, Professor,’ you say, because while this isn't Professor Grant, it does try it's best to teach.

‘Quite a spread you've got,’ it says, and it eyes the smoked meats you have with hunger. You don't bat an eye when its eyes turn to gaping maws in between blinks. Thirteen shudders beside you, and Cat-Eyes quietly removes her glasses.

‘I try.’ You demur.

It swallows, salivating.

‘Surely,’ it says, ‘you'd invite a dear professor to feast with you?’

‘Alas, this picnic is not just for me. I find myself requiring an audience.’ You smile, apologetic.

Professor Grant’s replacement sighs, mournful, and wanders away.

Several others approach you, and you replay the scene each time. Thirteen has become bored of being bored, Not-Jenna has wondered off and returned three times already, and Cat-Eyes just broke out a portable charger for her phone. You're beginning to wish you had remembered to bring sunblock when someone walks right up, flops down on a spare corner of the blanket, insouciant, and pops a grape in their mouth.

‘So, Girl who Sings to Crows,’ it says, ‘I hear you and yours are the ones who wanted an audience.’

You don't even get up, just fold yourself low over your crossed legs until your forehead is bare inches from the ground, and are glad of the yoga class you took for the improved flexibility.

Still low, you murmur a question.

‘I am unsure as to how I should address you...?’

Magnanimous, it tells you, ‘I am called the Crow Prince.’

On the blanket behind you, Cat-Eyes inhales sharply. You sit up, and yes- hair like the sound of feathers, empty eyes, nails dark and a touch too long. You rather thought so.

Thirteen, who between bouts of boredom has been making good use of google, breathes ‘Royalty?’ To a very still Not-Jenna.

The Crow Prince laughs.

‘Not in the way you mean, morsel. I am no great Name of the Seelie nor Unseelie Court, and may no such great Name ever darken our fair doorstep here at Elsewhere!’ He crows, and Not-Jenna mutters a fervent Here, Here.

He quirks an eyebrow at you meaningfully, nodding to Not-Jenna, and you pour him a red solo cup full of orange juice.

‘Here, here, indeed.’ He says, raises the cup and takes a draft. ‘No, I am of the Autumn Court, and long may we reign here at Elsewhere!’

Not the Winter or Summer Court? you wonder, but oh, of course: Elsewhere turns on the passing of semesters, not seasons. This is probably one of the only places the Autumn and Spring Courts aren't subordinate to their more well-known counterparts.

‘Though it is good for you that you have come to me now. If it were fall I would not have time for you.’ He pops a cube of cheese in his mouth, then spears a bit of salami on a talon and bites into that as well.

Then he looks-really looks- at the rest of your spread.

‘Where did you get all this?’ He asks, and you have to smile. You and Not-Jenna really outdid yourselves this morning.

‘It's Tuesday.’ You tell him, and he smiles back.

This is the most dangerous thing you've ever spoken to.

After that, he just wants to eat for a while, and you let him. He’ll talk when he wants to, and the longer it takes the less worried you are that Thirteen is going to say something stupid and offensive- he'll get bored of being terrified soon enough, and therefore less likely to blurt out something without thinking about what he's saying first.

He makes idle conversation as the five of you lounge on the grass: what is small talk to one such as him is nonsense to you. He speaks of stardust harvests and celestial poachers and music made to taste like strawberries, and you all answer as best you can.

The Crow Prince is gracious company. He invites you all to eat with him, and you do. You make sure to nudge all the best bits towards him before you help yourself, though, and you can tell by his easy smile and the warmth of the pearls around your wrist he appreciates it.

(Something in you preens at his attention. It's the same part of you that delights at the glint of sunlight on your feathers in your hair, at the way other Involved students look at your pearls, at the way people know who you are. It's the same thing that sat up and crowed when Thirteen called you the Crow Girl.) (the Crow Prince has claim on you, and for more reasons than what hang about your wrist)

(You make deals, yourself, now. Most people at Elsewhere do- a coffee for help studying, conversation for company, iron jewelry for sea salt- but sometimes, you think you can feel the worth of a thing.) (it scares you, most days. some days it doesn't.) (you are fae-touched, you know. You are more fae-touched each day you spend here.)

(You don't really mind, anymore.)

(that right there is the more frightening prospect by far.)

Almost all the food is gone, and the Crow Prince lays flat on his back, legs crossed so an ankle bobs mid air, a taloned hand twirling lazily in the air as he speaks. The light from the sun has gone amber, and it twists the colors of the trees. You are starting to relax, even let your guard down. This too-pretty thing is of the gentry, of the Court, even, but he is more crow than not. With crows, it is intention, not technicalities, that matter most.

You are starting to believe that this thing will not hurt you. (You are wrong. You know this. You know this. And yet...)

When he is done, he rolls onto his feet, and you hear the rustle of wings as he moves.

He folds himself, looming over you, so he can catch your jaw with his talons to make you look up and up and up and up into empty, empty eyes.

‘The dove book will not help you.’ he says, and you’re confused- the dove book?- before you realize he means the book by Robert Dove Scyt. (fear replaces confusion- what need has the Crow Prince for circumspection?)

‘It was an interesting read?’ you offer, feebly. He snorts, and the humanity of it makes your skin crawl.

‘This will be moreso.’ he says, and he is gone in a rush of cackling laughter and wingbeats, wind tearing at your hair and clothes, knocking over cups and stealing napkins and tugging at the umbrella.

The Crow Prince is gone, and in his place is a book.

Above an illustration of a laughing crow, So You Want To Go To Underhill is written in starlight on the cover.

#feathers #my writing #elsewhere university #fae #faeries #the gentry #the fair folk #crows #cat eyes #not-jenna #the crow prince #the sidhe

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sf9pentascenarios · 8 years

Text

[Pentagon] This is Your Place

Member: Yanan

Genre: Angst -> Fluff

Words: 3.2k

Author: Jessie

Notes: Omg. This ended up being longer than I expected. I hope you like it!

Girls.

Fan girls.

Everywhere.

You understand them, because you were once there too. You were once shuffled through the line, visiting each member one by one, a limited amount of time to spend with each. As you sit here watching the same familiar scene, you are reminded of those times. Those times before when you were in their shoes. A time not that long ago.

It has been seven months to be exact. Seven months since you were in that line, awaiting your chance to see the members of Pentagon up close and personal. Seven months since that fateful day when you came face to face with your bias for the third time and he gave you something in return. He broke the rules and blew your mind, but he gave you his phone number and asked you out.

Now, several fansigns later, you sit in the crowd watching over your precious Yanan, unbeknownst to the rest of the fans here. The only people aware of your status being the other members and some of the staff. It has been hard keeping your relationship hush for so long, but you wouldn't have it any other way.

Except on days like this.

Yanan is especially friendly today. You can't help but take notice of the gentle way he caressed the back of this girl's hand or how he tucked a loose strand of hair behind another girl's ear. A twinge of jealousy settles uneasily in the pit of your stomach, but you sit back and watch quietly, slowly clicking away on the camera held to your eye. You remind yourself that this is what he has to do, but that does nothing to curb the sick feeling inside.

Another girl steps up, gift in hand. As she hands it across the table, Yanan's hands linger longer on hers and he winks at her, causing her to giggle uncontrollably. His extra fan service today is unsettling and you can't shake that jealous feeling, latching on childishly to this girl in particular.

You watch her as she visits with each of the remaining members, but she keeps glancing back to your boyfriend. Normally, you don't get this jealous, but today is different. You just can't help yourself. As the girl says goodbye to Wooseok at the end of the line, she looks back to Yanan, who just happens to be looking her way as well, and waves. As he returns her wave, you snap another photo before dropping your camera and sliding to the end of the row, malicious intent practically ripping you apart.

As she returns to her seat, gripping her now autographed album to her chest, you push your foot out in front of her, tripping her, as she wasn't paying attention to the ground before her. Her album slides across the floor and she lands flat on the ground next to you. You play your part.

"Omg, I'm so sorry! Are you all right?" You ask, mock concern filling your voice. You reach down to help her up with one hand, your camera held in the other. Others begin to gather around, but you continue to pretend to care. You help pull her up as someone else hands her the album that she lost.

She looks to you, unsure of what happened, but she nods. "I think...so," she responds, her voice clearly confused and slightly embarrassed by the scene. She looks around nervously at all of the eyes watching her, but brushes off her clothes, trying to act normal.

"Good," you flash her a smile, faker than fake, before returning to your seat. Without another word, she leaves and everyone returns to what they were doing previously. Cameras continue to click away and the chatter returns. As you pull your camera back up to your eye, a smirk can't help but play on your lips, feeling slightly satisfied with yourself.

The rest of the fansign finishes without further incident and you are sure that no one even knows what happened. After the members clear out, leaving the remaining fans in the crowd, you pack away your camera rather slowly, feeling somewhat proud of yourself. As soon as you pull the zipper closed on your camera bag, your phone buzzes in your pocket.

It's a text from Yanan. It is short and to the point.

Yanan: Meet me in 10.

This message doesn't strike you as odd as most of his texts are short and to the point. Yanan tends to keep things short via message; he always prefers to tell you in person.

You continue to pack away your things and watch as the others quickly file out, hoping to get just one more glimpse of the guys before they leave the facility. Just as the last of the crowd pushes towards the main entrance, you head towards the rear, near where the members exited.

The two huge black vans that the members arrived in are already gone, leaving only a few smaller cars behind that are used to transport staff members. Near one of the cars, a silver sedan with black tinted windows, stands the staff member that supports your relationship the most. She waves you over and you quickly oblige, ducking into the rear of the car before anyone has time to notice. Yanan is already in the back.

As soon as you see him, a smile forms across your lips and happiness explodes from your heart. It's been a few days since you were able to see him alone like this, and all you want to do is hold him, to feel his warmth close to you. You slide across the seat, depositing your camera bag onto the floor. The closer you get to his side, the happier you become, but your joy is short lived. Almost immediately you notice something is wrong. He doesn't seem to share in your excitement, as a matter of fact, his angelic face, normally adorned with the sweetest smile, is furrowed into a slight scowl instead.

"Nan, what's wrong?" You question him, the pet name usually enough to ease whatever it is out of him.

For a moment, he is silent, however, you can almost see the wheels in his head turning as he fights to find the words to say to you. Instinctively, you place your hand over his clenched fist resting on his lap, hoping to calm his obvious nerves, but he recoils from your touch. Whatever is bothering him has to be serious, and it must be something to do with you.

His sudden movements throw you for a loop and your brow furrows, trying to figure out what could possibly be wrong. "Nan, did I do something?" You ask, honestly unaware of why he could possibly be acting this way towards you. What could you have done?

Your question garners a disgusted look from him, the sharp, disappointed scowl foreign on his normally happy, soft features. "You honestly can't think of anything?" He asks in return, the words dripping with venom. His voice has never been so sharp, his words never so harsh.

When you have no response, other than a confused shake of the head, he continues on, his words keeping their harsh tone. "We've been over this a hundred times, but you continue on. You need to control your jealousy. These are my fans, I am nothing without them."

The fans?

The fan.

That girl.

He saw.

The sudden realization that he saw everything hits you and your stomach drops, no longer proud of how you put that girl in her place. "Nan, it was an accident," you say, trying to smooth over the situation.

"Don't lie to me," he cuts you short. "I saw you."

"She got too close," you explain, but he once again, he cuts you short.

"Don't be so childish," he scoffs.

"Then don't be so touchy with them when you have a girlfriend," you fire back. You aren't the only guilty party here. Yes, you may have acted upon your ill feelings, but it was because of his actions that you felt you had to.

"Then maybe I don't need one," he retorts, the words falling almost unwillingly from his lips, but they are said and he can't take them back. As soon as he says the words, he regrets them, but they already hit you like a ton of bricks.

"Nan... I-..." But there are no words. Your heart has already sunk to the pit of your stomach and tears already brim your eyes. You are lost in the confines of this sedan. Suddenly nothing seems real, everything seems strange and out of place.

As if in slow motion, you grab your camera bag and push open the car door. You slide out and stand, shaking violently as sobs begin to rip through your shocked body. You can't bear to look back, but before you can even decide whether you should or not, the door closes and the car is gone.

There's no telling how long you stood there before the familiar buzz of your phone pulls you back to reality. You glance at the bright screen, the text blurred by the tears that sting your reddened eyes.

Chang Gu: Don't forget about movie night! It's your turn to bring the popcorn! :)

With a sob, you switch off your phone, not even bothering to respond. You hate ignoring Chang Gu like this, the two of you have become quite close because of Yanan, but what's the point anymore? It's over now, and you probably won't ever see any of them again.

You swipe the back of your hand across your cheeks, smearing the flood of tears on your face, and hike the camera bag strap higher onto your shoulder. In a daze, you begin your slow trek home, not really caring if you make it or not, not really caring about much at all.

Somehow, you end up miles away from your house, your feet leading you to the river instead. You take a seat on a rocky outcrop near the shoreline and recall several occasions when you met Yanan here late at night. This place became yours, but now you are here alone, and thoughts of this becoming someone else's place plague you. Why did you come here? Why are you putting yourself through this torture?

Numb to the world, you sit there well past nightfall, knees tucked to your chest. You should probably head home, but you make no attempt to move. You don't want to go anywhere, except into the past and start the day over, however, you know that that will never happen. You might as well just accept your fate.

Yet still, you remain, shivering in the chill night air, head hung low and chin resting on your knees, staring out over the dimly lit river. Your mind is filled with nothing but thoughts of how wrong you were. You shouldn't have responded that way. You knew better. He warned you before about being childish about his fans, but you kept on. This is what you deserved. You know this, but you did it anyway.

Tears threaten to fall once again, but your eyes are all cried out, there is nothing left. How are you ever going to go face tomorrow? For the last seven months, you dedicated yourself to being a top Pentagon supporter and now, you can't bare facing any of them again, let alone Yanan. Not after you disappointed him to this point, and disappointing yourself at the same time.

You let yourself get lost in the soft waves undulating across the water, trying your hardest to empty your mind and finding some sort of peace in the clear night. Your eyes flutter shut as you take a deep breath, squeezing your legs tighter to your chest. How long have you been here? How long should you stay? The questions are fleeting in your mind, but you push them aside. They don't matter. Right now, nothing does.

"Here you are..." A soft voice comes from behind you, just above a whisper, but seemingly filled with relief. The voice is so familiar that you can barely believe that it's real. Why would Yanan ever be here after what happened earlier? After he chose to throw you aside and leave you alone in the parking lot?

A sigh escapes your lips, not willing yourself to look behind you and face disappointment when you find no one there. But then your name comes, spoken in the same soft voice and a hand falls gently onto your shoulder.

Although you are aware of a presence, the touch still causes you to jump, startled by the fact that there is indeed someone there. You turn your head quickly and your eyes fall upon the most angelic face that you have ever seen. His eyes are puffy and red, indicating that you were not the only one spilling their emotions all day.

"Yan...an...?" You ask, still in disbelief that he would be here. This has to be a dream. There is no way. You pinch the tender skin on the inside of your arm, just to be sure, and it hurts. This is real. Your face morphs into a confused expression, your brow furrowing as your eyes focus on his face. If this isn't a dream, then why is he here?

He only nods in response, but before you can say or do anything, he pulls you into his arms. "I was so worried..." He whispers, his breath brushing against the fine hairs near your temple.

"But why?" You slowly shake your head against his cheek; still not able to grasp that this is real. "Why would you be worried about me?" Your heart sinks as you ask the question. You want things to be fine again, but how could they be? His actions are just making you even more confused.

"You weren't answering..." He pulls you even closer, but only ends up knocking himself off balance and falls backwards onto his butt, pulling you into his lap roughly. "Chang Gu tried to call you for over an hour. We tried your house, but no one heard from you." He pulls back to look deeply into your eyes, his own looking slightly glassy as he explains what happened in the hours before he showed up here. "I thought that something happened to you, because of me. I had to find you. I had to make sur-"

"But Nan," you cut him off; his normally shaky voice shaking even more from worry. He watches you closely, waiting for whatever it is that you have to say. "Nan, why? Why would you be worried about me after what I did? After what you said?" The sickening feeling settles in your stomach once again as you try to pull away. How could he look at you like everything is all right? Like nothing ever happened?

"I should never have said that. I didn't mean it," he admits, his eyes pleading with yours, the droop in his shoulders more obvious now that there is distance between you. "I regretted it as soon as I said it..."

"Then why did you leave?"

"Because, at that point, I was more upset with myself for treating you that way," he looks down briefly before deciding something else. Instead, he brings his hands to your face, cupping your cheeks gently in his palms. He gazes intensely into your eyes and quietly apologizes in Chinese.

"No Nan, I'm sorry," you reply, letting your eyes drop away from his gaze, but before you can shy away from him more, his hold on your face tightens the tiniest bit and his lips are on yours. The kiss is soft and warm, yet quick and fleeting, almost unsure that he should even be kissing you right now. His lips are gone as quickly as they came, leaving yours yearning for the contact again.

You look back up at him, searching for something more to say, but not knowing where to start. However, he speaks first, leaving you listening instead.

"I will try to be more careful with what I say," he promises, "Just please, forgive me?" He bats those beautiful lashes at you and you know that you have lost. There is no way that you could refuse him. He continues, "I also promise to be more mindful of how I act around fans." He knows that issue is the one that is constantly getting between you. He has to be friendly with fans, and you can't help but be jealous of them gaining his affections.

"I promise to try harder to not be as jealous," you tell him, hoping that it is a promise that you will be able to keep. It's one that you need to keep.

"There is nothing to be jealous of. I only want you," his confession hits you harder than anything else that has been said. He doesn't often express his feelings so openly, but he chose to say this to you, right now, and it brings tears to your eyes. Only this time, they are tears of joy, not sadness.

"You mean that, Nan?" You question him, if for nothing more than to hear him say it again. You need the assurance, yearn for the confirmation that you are his and that he is yours.

He nods slowly, leaning closer until his nose presses softly against the tip of your nose. "I don't want anyone else but you," his voice barely more than a breath, his lips grazing your own as he speaks, "I love you." He presses his lips fully onto yours, kissing you just enough to show you exactly how he feels. The kiss is full of love and tender affection, one hand sliding back to tangle gently in your hair.

Your heart swells as you return his kiss, equally as loving. It isn't the first time that he told you that he loved you, but it definitely feels like the first. After the stresses of the day, you make a silent promise to yourself to work hard to hear it every day. Before you push the kiss any further, you breathe your own "I love you" against his lips, garnering a deeper kiss and a tighter hug.

After a few more minutes, you each pull away for some air, your lips pinked and slightly swollen. He pulls you happily into a more comfortable position, nestling you gently between his legs. He leans his head against yours and gazes out over the water.

You peek over at him as he lets a yawn fall from his lips. "Shouldn't you be getting back? It must be late."

He shakes his head, a sweet smile playing on his face. "Can't we just stay here for a little bit longer?" He asks, and you can't refuse because you too wish to stay here with him for a while longer.

After all, this is your place. Your rock next to the river. Your Yanan. And your love.

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