#then again when I post weight my sister said I looked even younger and it kinda freaked her out | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

jodilin65 · 31 years ago

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SATURDAY, FEBRUARY 27, 1993 I came up with a bright idea on how to get Ellie’s number. That is, only if she doesn’t have the Caller ID block on her line. I’ll leave her a note saying I just discovered I have two bowls and a glass of hers. Also, Fay came by and gave me a few things to give to her. Please do not knock on my door, call me and I’ll leave the stuff by her door. When I go to post this note on her door, I’ll make sure I get her apartment number so I can write her a beautiful letter after I’ve moved.

I saw Ellie today as I was on my way to mail a letter. She looked horrible and at first, I didn’t recognize her. She looked like maybe she gained a bit of weight. Her face looked all puffy, haggard and depressed. She was getting into a car with a younger girl, maybe her daughter. Her hair looked pretty pitiful too.

Andy’s gonna let me sleep at his place this weekend as the bitch next door’s noisy as it is and now a guy’s moving in down below me. I knew my luck would eventually run out. I can stay at Andy’s whenever I need to till I move and maybe Scott’s too.

I informed Judy today that there’s an 85% chance that a guy’s gonna take over my lease. Scott’s roommate.

Oh, yeah! That’s right. I have yet to mention all about my new apartment. Well, I’ll do that later as it’s definitely one of the subjects that are gonna take some time to cover.

Guess who began working where I work last Wednesday? Kara’s sister Stacey. It’s a surprise, but then again it’s not. She does seem like the type who’d do this job. She told me not to tell Kara. There’s a part of me that doesn’t want to tell Kara cuz I don’t like to go behind people’s back and end up going back on my word. I know exactly how that feels. Then again, Kara would be the last one to freak out about it and she was gonna work there herself if she had been hired. Plus, Kara could keep a secret.

I’ve decorated tons of envelopes and they sure look cool. I sent Tammy a pamphlet on my new apartment. When I move I’ll get one to send to my parents, too.

Scott says there’s a big black friendly cat there and he’s keeping it. I said, “It’s mine! I want it.” No problem, he said, and he’s gonna get it neutered and declawed. This is great as I thought to myself how great it’d be if I found the “right stray” after moving. What I mean by that is a cat like Shadow or Moon Shadow. Not like those two, Dennis took me to get through the paper and Dennis’s brother’s friend’s cat that screamed non-stop.

Last week I did something I’ve wanted to do for a long long time. I’m gonna do this at least once a month. Barbara still keeps her ringer off during the night when they’re asleep. I called on a weekday at 6:15 AM and her son Tony answered. I had the flu at this time and it was even easier to disguise my voice. I said my name was Kathy and that I was very sick and needed to speak to Barbara. Tony said she wasn’t up yet which I was very glad to hear. I told him to get her on the phone anyway as it was very urgent. He did. She said hello in a very sleepy voice. I spit really loud and hung up.

Little does she know that I’m still (unfortunately) being woken up here and there even though it’s nowhere near as bad as there. At first, I was afraid to do this, thinking God would surely get me for it somehow. Then I said, now wait a minute! I still get woken up here half the time and I’ve been behaving and being a complete sweetheart. I really hope it’s over when I move and that for the first time in nearly 3 years, I’ll be able to sleep when I want to with no music. Music is for listening to, not for sleeping. At least that’s how I feel. I want to return to those days of being able to sleep in total silence.

About two weeks ago I called the office and really let Stacey have it, but I think she got a big kick out of it. So many people love it when I go off cuz of the choice of words I use and how I say them. People get a real kick out of me when I first wake up. At fucking 9:00 in the goddamn morning, they had the parking lot sweepers here. I ripped shitting pissed. I called the office and asked what the hell was going on. I thought they were mowing again and she told me what it was and that she had to have them there once a month. I said something like, “I gotta get out of this complex. I’m outa here! OK, bye!” and she said, “Bbyyyyeeee.” I’m sure she got a real kick out of that. I could swear she was trying really damn hard not to burst out laughing. I’m sure all 3 of them and maybe even the maintenance guys were cracking up about it and that they wish they had it on tape.

About two weeks into my job, a girl named Shelby quit who was very nice. I’d given her the apartment office number here in case she wanted to check it out. I did tell her, though, that the walls are too thin and that there are plenty of screaming kids after school and on weekends cuz you know damn well they’re not gonna tell her that at the office. No thanks, she said. She also said she was not sure if she was gonna return to Reno or stay here. I gave her my number, then forgot all about her till she called and left a message. She’s managing a place where they do topless, nude and private dancing with top-notch security. She really wants me to work for her. I’ve got her on hold.

When I move I’ll be 20 minutes away from work. Steve says he’ll still drive me home and flat rate me $5. That’s nice, but I’d really like to find a place closer to where I’ll be living and also where I may make more money.

Last night Andy and I went to the Valley West Mall and I got my picture taken. Next Friday I have to go over my proofs.

While I was there I got some killer clothes. A short pair of orange shorts with orange fringes off the bottom around the thighs. It also has a black ring buckle-like thing at the front of the waist with diamonds around it. At first, I thought my thighs would be too big for them, but it’s actually very slimming on me. I also got a gorgeous red shirt. It’s got open shoulders, so to speak, with colored glass stones around the chest area. I got one other shirt. It’s a black silk-like half-shirt with ruffles and white daisy flowers across the chest. The two shirts and the shorts cost $28. I also got a pair of very comfortable black pumps for $10. They’re 3” high. Lastly, I got 4 very nice journals, so now I have a grand total of 44. They cost me $30.

TUESDAY, FEBRUARY 23, 1993 I have a million things to write about, so I’ll get started. Kara’s leaving tomorrow with a friend to Vegas for two weeks. She said she’d write. Tomorrow I have to call channel 10 to try to get a tape for Andy. I also must call Laurie to bring me to work and Steve to let him know I’ll need to be picked up.

It’s gonna be really hard to get up tomorrow since I slept till 7:00 this evening.

Andy’s party went over well and tomorrow is his day off. I really hope he doesn’t wake me up. He picked up another CD by Linda for me. Canciones di mi Padre. I also got a CD I ordered by mail called Instrumental Magic.

Earlier Fran tried to call me while my ringer was off, but I guess he spoke to Andy. Andy left him and Fran talking on my machine and I guess Fran mentioned Tracy staying at LaRagione’s. I was there as a foster kid of Harry and Ann B when I was 16.

I’ve called Nervous a few times and I called Kim once. Bob, of course, still has no phone. I just sent him and everyone else I know a letter.

I’ve told Tammy and my mom about the latest news with Capitol Records. I’ve also sent Mom and Dad a tape. I edited their message when they got sick.

Scott took me to the ER last week and I have forms to give them at work. I never made it to the doctor’s today, but at least I got my refills and am over the flu. It sure does feel good to be back from the deathbed. That was my first flu in a year. The last flu was when I was in CT.

TUESDAY, FEBRUARY 16, 1993 I fell asleep yesterday morning at 8:00 and got up at 12:30. My flu was worse today, but now it’s better, thank God.

Today, or yesterday I should say, was Andy’s 31st birthday. He got cards from family and friends as well as phone calls. At work, a girl made him a cake. He gave me some and it was good.

He had to go to a friend’s house and he stopped at the store for me which was nice. He got me something called Drixoral and it’s helped a lot. He also got fruit juice and popcorn for me. I had a raging fever and was very congested in the chest. My back was so sore, achy and tight, but the Drixoral helped.

Even at 27, I still feel the need to call Mommy when I get sick. When we kids were sick, as well as with our material needs, Mom was great. She’s still sick too, and has been for two weeks.

Andy thanked her for sending me to Phoenix.

We also called Tammy.

I called the phone company today and they had just gotten my $50 deposit for Sprint. Today I should have long-distance, but I do have my caller ID. Andy and Laurie are getting blocks, so I won’t know when they’re calling.

I called the doctor’s office and the soonest they can get me in is next Monday at 4:15. I called Omar’s and told this to the woman who answered.

Tomorrow night Andy’s having 10 people over for his birthday party. I’m not looking forward to that with the way I’m feeling, but anything’s better than his sister and nephew.

I fell asleep last night from 10:30 - 1:00 AM and I hope to fall asleep soon.

The drugstore will be delivering prescriptions tomorrow. The nurse at the doctor’s office said she called in something.

Tonight I’m supposed to get together with Scott, but we’ll see how I feel. Maybe I’ll have him stop up here.

Two nights ago Andy and I called Nerv. I spoke for the first 10 minutes, but he was boring. Then when Andy started talking he became totally silent but never hung up till we ditched him 15 minutes later.

MONDAY, FEBRUARY 15, 1993 Around 6 AM yesterday morning I began to have a slight sore throat. Miraculously, I slept solidly from 8 AM-4 PM. When I awoke I knew I had a cold. I called the bar and was given Omar’s number (the owner). Some woman answered saying I may have to show a doctor’s note or be fired unless there are enough girls. I do need to get in to see my doctor anyway, but I don’t know how soon I can. Paying a fine is out of the question and they have way way way too many girls on. Why is cuz 16 out of Omar’s 17 bars were shut down. It was a 1-year court order for tax evasion. He could’ve afforded it, he just didn’t pay it and I heard he practically pulled the $150,000 he owed right out of his pocket. The guy’s filthy rich and lives in Paradise Valley in a 4,000-square-foot house, so he doesn’t need my fine. What it is is that people are greedy even when they already have millions. The dancers make enough money to be fined, whereas the bouncers and everyone else don’t. Yeah, I’ve heard strange stories about Omar, but hey, he’s a fucking Arab so I’m not surprised.

I just pray to God that whatever I have doesn’t get any worse. I need to work next Wednesday. Why couldn’t this have happened before I got this job? Mom, Dad, Tammy, Andy have all gone through this and I guess it’s my turn. First time in a year, though, luckily.

Earlier this evening, it was Kara to the rescue. She came over and whacked my back to help bring the goop up. She and I made popcorn and listened to about 15 minutes of tapes of Nervous, Fran, Andy and me. I knew I had to lay low to try to beat this cold, but you know I can’t sit still. I’ve never had a cold, yet been so good mentally if you know what I mean. All my other colds and flues, I was stuck in Norwich, Crackfield or Deadfield. Isolated or surrounded by dope heads, fires, and people slamming the walls. Or in Valleyhead, Brattleboro, or home. I even forced myself to sing as a last resort to this having to worsen. Music’s my medicine.

Andy came over and I gave him some money I owed him for long-distance calls on his phone. I also showed him some awesome envelopes I decorated.

He picked me up (with my money) a CD of Linda’s called Prisoner in Disguise. There are lots of old songs I love to sing on there.

His friend Adam from Springfield sent two out of the 3 Amy Fisher movies. I’d seen two of them, but Andy saw only one. It’s all about this 17-year-old girl obsessed with a married man that shoots his wife, who survives. It’s a true story.

It sure was funny seeing all the old familiar news people during news updates. The emergency weather bulletin was saying how roads were sheets of ice, it was freezing cold rain, the snow turned to ice and there were multi-car pile-ups. I saw all the footage during the weather updates and laughed.

SUNDAY, FEBRUARY 14, 1993 I cut $134 tonight! This sure makes up for the 3 days I worked before this. It was dead. I only made between $50 and $80.

Monday I should have my long-distance service and my Caller ID. They delivered the Caller ID box a few days ago. I programmed my phone with new phone numbers. I also took out old numbers. Such as Dennis’s and Randy’s. Randy apparently moved. These are the people’s numbers I’ll have: Andy, Laurie, John, my number (for when I page people) Fran, Nervous, Tammy, Mom and Dad, voice messaging, my code, Scott, Dr. Kareus, the apartment office, Kara, Mary, bank, Stephanie, my account number, my social security number, Velma and work.

Tim said Angie and Vicki decided not to call me back cuz I am only looking for one-nighters. This is so weird. I can understand the fear of AIDS, but very few people want or can deal with a relationship any more than I can. Everyone’s into sex and fun. Also, so many others, like me, can’t deal with the shit involved in relationships and they don’t want to be tied down. Do I lie and tell people I want a relationship? Then dump them even if it hurts them cuz that’s life? You win some, you lose some. Then again, I know I’m not destined for even a one-nighter for years.

Later…

So much for trying to go to sleep. I really wish I could, though, cuz of the bitch next door. On the weekend (especially Sundays) it sounds like the bitch is shooting basketballs off the walls. I’ll also have to deal with her on Monday cuz it’s President’s Day. Well, like I said, if I can’t sleep on Sundays, she can’t sleep at 2 AM on Mondays.

Last summer while I was still in the first-floor apartment next to Mark, Andy got a note on his door. It definitely looked like a female wrote it, but it said it was a gay, free male who’d seen Andy a lot at the pool. They wanted to meet him and said to leave a reply taped to the fire extinguisher. Back then he suspected Mark and his girlfriend Michelle. I’m sure they’re no longer together as most couples aren’t that long. Especially people like him and her. Anyway, I took an envelope and wrote his name and address as the return address. I made up a bogus name and address to be sent to, and of course, it’ll be sent back to him marked return-to-sender. With the note enclosed, of course. I also signed her name at the bottom of the note.

Now here’s the Celeste story. And like most stories, it never amounts to anything. I’m glad, though, for two reasons. I’ll explain why through the story. Last Thursday night at work I gave this guy named Joe a table dance. After that, he asked me about a threesome with him and his wife. I explained I was gay and liked feminine women with no male involved, but he could easily find a bi woman through The New Times. So, he said he could keep out of it and let me and his feminine wife alone together. He said they have an open marriage, but she’d never go for a relationship. I said I couldn’t either. They were looking for an apartment, but currently, they’re in a motel. He gave me their number.

I called after work and she promised to keep him out of the picture. She also confessed to doing Crystal. Do I look like a druggie? Or an alkie? What do these people see in me? Why do I attract them? So, they say I shouldn’t blame myself, but I feel I could be in a room with 99 sober people and one druggie. That’s the one I’d get. No matter how I looked. No matter what I said. No matter how I acted. No matter what mood I was in. The drugs are one reason I won’t get involved with her. The other is that there’s always a fucking male in the middle of these kinds of things. When there’s a male involved, he cannot stay out of it. I’m afraid of her coming over, and then he shows up. Another reminder from God that lust ain’t meant to be.

Well, I’m gonna go try to hit the sack now before that bitch next door wakes me up in 3 hours.

FRIDAY, FEBRUARY 12, 1993 I have lots to write about, but I’m off tomorrow, so I’ll get caught up now.

I must call the bank, the phone company, Kara, Joe and Celeste. I need to call Joe to bitch him out. Celeste is another story I’ll get into later. I still haven’t called Willie yet.

As far as getting my hair straightened, well, it was a bust. My hair’s still quite curly. Velma did trim my bangs OK and she gave me some nice hair care products. I gave her $15 for her birthday. She said she’d try straightening my hair again for free on the 22nd, but I’m sure it won’t work. She also mentioned getting a straightening iron for me, too. Maybe she’d rather buy me the iron, rather than spend all that time again straightening my hair. I don’t think it’ll work a second time if it failed the first.

The other day Andy told me he called Judy at the office and he asked her to come over. Without asking why she and Stacey went over and he showed them how those fucking kids were playing on his stairs. I went and told Stacey exactly how I feel about the kids here as well as the too-thin walls. As figured, she said she couldn’t chain me to my door, but that if I leave she’ll send a bill to me and my parents. She did say she agrees with me as far as the kids should be separated from those without kids. Also, she “does not not like me.”

She lied about 3 things, though. One, she said there were only 4 kids here. Two, no one else has ever complained about the kids except me and Andy. Three, it’s against the law to separate kids from adults. All this is bullshit. I have plenty of reliable sources and references.

Andy gave me a survey form that goes directly to the management company. I wrote all about Stacey, the kids, and the walls being so thin. Ever since I turned Andi next door in for having all those kids, she’s been noisier. I still basically don’t hear her as she’s never home, but on Sundays, it sounds like the walls are gonna cave in. She even drove Mary nuts. I need my sleep on Sundays cuz I dance Sunday nights. I swear I’m gonna wake her up when I come in early Monday morning if she keeps this up. Twice she’s done this. Speaking of Mary, well she’s a great person. She’s given me about 4-5 rides since we met and I helped her get newspapers into the recycling bin. She calls me up whenever she wants predictions or vibes on anything.

A few days ago I got a call from a woman from some sales and advertising business. She asked me a trivia question about Paul Newman. What’s he known for besides acting? I had 3 choices and I picked salad dressing which was the correct answer. I got several coupons for restaurants, Riverside Resort in Nevada, 25% off upholstery and Montgomery/Ward photo studios. The Nevada and upholstery deal, I’ll probably never use, but I used one restaurant coupon the night Andy, Stephanie and I went out to dinner. At the photo studio at Valley West Mall, I get four 8x10s and a framed 11x14. The only thing that sucks about this deal is that each photo sitting must be 4 months apart. Soon, I’m gonna make an appointment when Andy can take me there on my night off. There better be no catch either.

A deliveryman brought this package over and I paid $20.

The other night at work I bought a $30 dress. A purple satin one with matching G-string, and along the chest part of the dress are feathers. I like it, but the feathers keep falling out. There are 2 things I want to get for work. Boots, rather than shoes so I am cushioned a little more when I kneel down. Gloves would be more comfortable too, when I’m leaning on my arms. It’ll also hide my nails if there are ever days when I wasn’t in the mood to polish them. Great way to cover up polished nails when the polish starts chipping.

Kim left a message telling me Bob’s in trouble, accused of raping a 12-year-old girl. She said she doesn’t know if he’s in jail. She’s also not sure if he’s gonna skip out and head on out here.

Despite the statistics, I believe he’s innocent. The guy’s so weak, even a 12-year-old girl could fight him off.

WEDNESDAY, FEBRUARY 10, 1993 I got a letter from Bob today as well as a million things to write about. First, let me say that I’ve come up with a unique, yet very accurate way to describe life on my own since December 3rd of 1985. From Crack Alley to the boonies to a madhouse to the funny farm to Phoenix to exotic dancing. Neat, huh?

On Monday, Everett came to fix my door with perfect timing which was at 2:40. He did a great job.

Good news for me, but not for Andy. His sister and nephew are not coming! No motels to worry about now. Marla’s pregnant so she can’t come out here till after the baby’s born. By then Andy and I won’t be here.

Still have discharges downstairs. Oh well. What else is new?

Andy, Stephanie and I went out to an Italian place for dinner. The place was dead, but the food was good.

I’m still getting used to all this extra money. I guess it’d also take some getting used to for a person who always had money that went broke. I can now afford the weekly TV guide, rather than go chase down people’s TV time sections of their Sunday papers.

I can get lots of stamps, too. I just sent Fran a picture of Kara which he’s wanted. I also sent him and Nerv two blooper pictures of Andy in San Francisco. Since I’m much busier, my letters to everyone will be slowing down. Just like with my journal writing. I’m especially gonna slow down my letters to my nieces. I’m a bit disappointed as I haven’t gotten a letter since last August. No letters about school, holidays, vacations or the letters and money I’ve sent.

Thanks to Andy, he’s gotten me into another neat hobby. Envelope decorating. I also got these really cool changeable markers. Six different colors that can be changed with a special marker. If I used purple and scratched over it with a clear marker, it changes it to pink. You can use either the changer marker first, or the regular ones first.

Later…

Andy and I have been passing messages all night long. A great way to clear our minds of whatever without interrupting each other.

He’s talking about apartment sharing with Stephanie. I told him to do whatever he wants, but I have a bad feeling as I did with a guy named Chris he took in a short while. With the way I can read people and I warned him about Chris, Nancy and others, I say they’ll fuck each other over and kill their friendship. He needs his space like I do, even if the person were perfect. She has friends that are all current or past druggies and alkies. She’s 41 and still trusting the wrong types to be alone in her apartment to rip her off. If she let someone in like that, they could rip him off too, or maybe she’d rip him off. I can also see her coming in wasted with wasted friends. And also fighting over chores and bills.

Laurie and Fran got their numbers changed. Laurie due to her baby’s father harassing her. Fran due to the typical story. He gets harassed, changes his number every two months, then gives his number to the same people who were harassing him before.

I got up the bravery to call this number Tim gave me. I spoke to Angie, but Vicki wasn’t home. We had a nice talk and I gave her my number. Neither of them returned my call and I won’t call them. I can only initiate so much. I like to chase and play games, but only if there’s something there to do so with.

A few mornings ago, very early, like 5 AM Eastern time, Andy and I called Kim who was just getting up. It was -3º! We talked about shit in general. She got my letters and thinks my job is great and is so happy for me. I may get a letter from her soon. She also told me something about Bob being sued for stealing someone’s grill. With that and his playing around with young kids, we both believe he is innocent, despite all the statistics. We called Fran too, but he was on his way to bed. We called Nervous who was drunk off his ass big time. He would not stay on the phone longer than 5 minutes, but I got a few great lines. We tried calling Barbara but got no answer. Fran called earlier about us all ranking on Nervous, but I was on the phone about to go out to dinner. That’s how it usually works.

Later…

Last Saturday I got a message from Mom and Dad. They were both very sick with colds, yet their message was a classic. I’m gonna edit it and send it to them. I had Kara call them and they called me. We had an excellent talk. I respect their opinions, and even though they don’t approve of it they are at least happy I’m happy. However, I’m still upset with Ma for ditching my pictures. I still do intend to talk to her about it, too.

Soon I’ll be having Sprint for long-distance and Caller ID.

Later…

I slept 9 hours yesterday and I sure needed it, but today I won’t sleep too much. I probably won’t conk out till 9:00 and I want to be up by 3:00.

Scott came into where I work last Sunday night. Sundays are dead, so I’m glad he did. I cut $59 and without him, I’d have only cut $39. Now that he’s gotten to know me, he’s told me more personal things about himself, but he really is a cool guy. He ain’t your TM (typical male) and he really only comes in to see me. I never danced for him as he’d rather talk which is cool. I asked if he could take me home after work, but I could be fired cuz it’s against the rules, so I couldn’t let him drive me.

Since John’s working at Circle K, a convenience store, and not driving, Steve sometimes drives me. He’s Corey’s regular driver (Corey’s another dancer) and when he takes us both he charges us only $3 each.

Laurie will be back at Denny’s part-time, so she won’t always be able to pick me up to bring me home.

Kara’s been babysitting a lot for Laurie. I called Kara and told her I haven’t forgotten about her, but I just realized I was supposed to call her when I got in from dinner. Oh well. I do, though, really want to see her on my next day off.

John called to say hi a few times and he’s now in his own apartment.

A close friend of Scott’s had a heart attack, but within a few days, he’ll talk to Bill Toddman at Capitol Records. He’s also gonna let me know about a dinner he needs someone to go with to for rich businessmen.

I met another fairly decent guy, and they do come in here and there, who knows a feminine gay woman who also likes other fems. He’s gonna try getting her number so I can play with her head. Again, never to the degree most people go to. He told me two very important things. Never forget her name - Jennifer - or she’ll be furious. The first bill he hands me will have her number if she’s agreed to give it to me.

I haven’t heard from Joe and I am gonna call him and give him a piece of my mind, despite being used to false promises.

I told Kara to tell her dad to forget the Polaroid and to say no the next time I ask to borrow something, rather than keep me hanging. John says he thinks he can get access to one, though.

MONDAY, FEBRUARY 8, 1993 I can’t sleep yet, so I figured I’d write. Today marks one year since the ultimate nightmare began (of all my time being on my own). This was the day I moved to CT. I feel two things when I remember that. One is I cringe with horror, depression and anxiety. The other, I laugh as I’m long gone. In about 6 hours from now, adding the 2-hour difference I was crying my eyes out. Tammy and I realized we were bullshitted by Mary Jane. We discovered their apartment next door goes over part of mine and the walls are paper-thin. I remember being in the tub hearing every word they’d say next door and wishing I had a shower. I remember how filthy the place was and trying to fit my furniture in. Boy, have I come a long way!

However, I’m out of here, too. I most certainly wouldn’t say these walls are paper-thin. I’d say a few layers of cardboard. There also aren’t 4 kids next to me and not a million outside, but there are still a few too many. Way more than enough. These apartments, as well as the grounds, are beautiful, but I’ve had it and I’m finally (after 3 years) gonna get a place where I can sleep anytime. With no music and where my sleep’s guaranteed unless I wake up on my own. No more am I going to sleep with a 50/50 chance of not being woken up by someone banging in the building. I’m also sick of those fucking kids outside screaming on weekends and after school. I was told it was quiet here and they never told me these walls were too thin. I didn’t come here to pay for thin walls and screaming kids. I never asked for that in my rent. Even if I were a day person, when I want to hear my TV, that’s all I want to hear. Not the kids too, or others in this building. Laurie and others have moved for the same reasons. I know I’m far from the first person to complain and I know I’ll be far from the last.

Tuesday I’m gonna tell Stacey the facts and she’s either gonna let me out of my lease or we’ll go to court. My parents won’t give them a dime. I will give them 30 days’ notice and they can also keep their deposit.

Tomorrow I get my hair chemically straightened. Velma will be picking me up at 3:00. I hope I fall asleep by 6:00. I hope many times over that I sleep straight through till 2:00.

That new asshole maintenance guy never fixed my fucking sliding door. I left a message for them to remember not to knock before 2:00 and I put a note on my door, but I’m sure the guys will fuck up. Some people just don’t give a shit.

THURSDAY, FEBRUARY 4, 1993 I made a lousy $71 tonight, but it sure beats SSI, doesn’t it?

There are two new gorgeous dancers, and Tim, who I thought was Jim, gave me a number of some friends he knows. Tim’s the bouncer, in case I forgot to mention. It’s what he swears is a feminine couple, Vicki and Angie who know a lot of people, but I still just don’t know. I just want to play the game people play (to a degree), but this is a good friend of Tim’s. Tim’s a very good guy, so I’d assume he’d have some pretty decent friends. However, I’m tired of the same old one-sided and non-mutual deal. If it lusts for me, I don’t lust for it. If I lust for it, it don’t lust for me. It’ll also either smother me or say they’ll call or see you and it never does.

Linda was really getting fun to play with and I’m shocked she’s never called again. She told me she wasn’t giving up on me so I’m shocked she did.

Kara taped a Gloria special from the radio for me last Saturday night while I was working. I haven’t heard it all yet, but why on earth did she go and cut her hair?

Still haven’t heard from Bob.

Andy and I spoke to Tammy last week and we had a nice talk. Tammy’s so thrilled and grateful for the money I’m sending her to help her out. She says Mom and Dad can understand why I’m doing what I’m doing with all the money I’m making and my loving to dance, but they’re shocked. I would be too, if I ever knew I’d be doing this.

I finally got Tammy’s package. There was a huge paint-by-number, which honestly bores me, so I gave it to Kara. I also gave Kara a box of crayons and a book of crossword puzzles she sent. I kept the word find puzzles and the nice package of magic markers. She also sent colored pencils and some food like popcorn, pudding, cupcakes and soup. I used the markers to make awesome decorations on the front and back of the envelopes. They do a good job of concealing. I sent her cash in 4 envelopes. I told her to call me to tell me she got 4, in white, pink, green and orange. I’ve also been decorating envelopes for others.

Last Sunday night, John was in and he met Scott. I gave him a tape of me singing two full songs and I hope to hear from him soon. Maybe I can call him and I also want to check out where he lives just in case when my lease is up. He says he has a 2-bedroom apartment which is 1200 square feet and costs $537 per month. It has super thick walls and he can’t hear a thing. He also says they separate kids, adults and the elderly the way it should be everywhere.

A week ago Andy called and I simply told him for the millionth time to keep our business ours. He’s been fine so far.

Laurie’s a cool person and she’s been my driver. She’s not sure if she wants to audition or not.

Last Saturday night was a shocker for me when both Andy and Stephanie showed up at the club. They were very complimentary about how much my dancing’s improved. Also about my body which is better, but still needs improvement. I think everyone always feels that way about their bodies.

That night both Laurie and Kara came to get me. They were out earlier drinking together.

At first, Tim and others could swear Andy was a girl. He and I were laughing about this, as I say there’s a difference between girls and fags.

Later…

I decided I wanted a bigger calendar, so I cut up my teddy bear calendar to decorate my journals with. I made a calendar for now. I also need to reprogram numbers into my phone as well as delete some, such as Dennis’s and asshole Ellie’s.

I haven’t heard from Randy, so who knows what he’s up to?

I was reading back in journal 7, cracking up over certain stuff. Like how I thought my asthma would be better with moving back to Woodside Terrace. Little did I know the sheer hell I was to go through there! Saying moist air helps when it really makes it worse was dumb. Of course, I also didn’t realize how bad the stench of the Mill River got and how bad the neighborhood got. Not that it’d be long before the harsh reality hit me. I just didn’t want to believe how bad that area became cuz I wanted my old apartment back badly. I never realized how fast an area can go to hell either. There were also some funny mistakes as well as stuff that made no sense.

I must call Velma at 6:00 this morning. Andy gave me her number. I want her to trim my bangs and straighten my hair.

Here’s a list of some things I’d like. Some of them, though, I’m not in a dire hurry for. I’d like my phone blocks to be removed so I can call long-distance. A pair of new heels, my CD player fixed (Not the portable one Steve gave me. The one I bought a few days before I moved to S Deerfield), a color TV, a better microwave, maybe cable, and a vacuum like Andy’s like I had back east. Definitely a major shopping spree one of these days.

Well, now it’s time once again for a cigarette break.

MONDAY, FEBRUARY 1, 1993 Well, here I am and I am feeling just fine. I’ve never ever been happier in my whole life. It feels so good. Now, 26½ years of misery is just a memory. Only two ER visits since coming here sure are better than more. I’ve only had two depressing spells which were a joke and they didn’t last long. It was over food and money when I first got here. I only wish I’d begun this job right after I first got here. I also wish I’d moved here long ago, but I know there are a time and reason for everything. I’m sure all the misery I went through as a kid and since being on my own was a survival test. God only knows how in the hell I did survive. But going through all I did surely makes you more sensitive and open-minded. It makes you not as naïve and enables you to read people well.

Earlier Fran called. We called Kara, but she was busy giving Ashley a bath. She’s going to Vegas for two weeks with an old girlfriend. Fran called Nervous and I called Andy. I taped it.

Then, I treated Andy to Red Lobster where we ordered shrimp. The bill was $32 and I left a $4 tip.

I’m watching Hunter now and Andy and I were laughing our asses off earlier. Back east it’s 0º with wind chills of -40º.

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welcome-to-grayspace · 7 months ago

Text

Aight let's get some things here out of the way.

#1: I chose to reply rather than reblog because this is in fact an omori blog for omori fans that will tear into you for this one, and I felt it would be unfair to risk a bunch of people dogpiling on you at once. If you accept that though, then so be it.

#2: I never once said that it was just "too smart for you to understand", I said that it uses symbolic writing whereas you seem to prefer more literal writing. Neither is bad or better than the other, but silent hill is very literal and omori is very symbolic. Those are just the facts.

The point i was making was not that you cannot understand symbolism but rather that they're different forms of storytelling and it is unfair to expect one to fit the other's expectations and standards. It wouldn't be fair if I went into a piece of media that's very upfront with its writing expecting the symbolism of the blue curtains in some of its scenes to hold weight and then say that it's "shitty writing" if it doesn't, and it wouldn't be fair to go into a heavily symbolic piece of media and expect it to just spell everything out for me and get mad when it doesn't. Different formats, different rules. #3:

>>proceeds to use a screenshot of me pointing out CANON content in the game's code and calls it "fanon". ok buddy #4: "where's the foreshadowing?"/"Blackspace didn't have foreshadowing"

I could talk about this all day. This might be a long fucking post.

- The first scare of the game is Basil saying "Mari... She's-" before we see a photo of sunny's broken violin at the bottom of the stairs. The first. Scare. In the psych horror game.

- Basil's Something is designed to look like mari's body on the floor.

- At night we can SEE what looks like a body/mass of black hair in front of the stairs for a second before it fades - the way sunny represses an entire room of his house (the one his violin is stored in) to the point where he can't see the door most of the time. It appears briefly at night occasionally. If you interact with the blank wall it says "There is Nothing Here."

- The way he visibly backs away when everyone else is talking about/accepting mari's death in front of the treehouse (again, an obvious sign of anxiety/guilt no one else in the scene is expressing)

- the fact that sunny was the one who scribbled out the photos of mari (something you can find out in blackspace even in hikikomori routes where sunny has no other reason to know that the photos had been scribbled on)

- There's a blackspace room where an adult is chopping down a tree. They say "You are not my son." It (+ sunny's dad leaving after the incident) implies that his parents knew what really happened.

- There are blackspace rooms where the scrolling background literally contains photos from the truth sequence. This is the full background from the forest of stumps.

- Every interaction with basil results in an immediate reaction of fear, anxiety, and overwhelming guilt from basil. which would make no fucking sense if it was just a suicide that had very little to do with him. it's meant to make you ask questions. There's a whole conversation about it - every piece of dialogue in deeper well. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=TCsWB156qdw Just to highlight a few lines: "They are the only ones who know... and one has carried it with her to her grave." "Your dear sister MARI with a bad knee... you could not bear for her to die again, so she was given the safety of a picnic blanket." (+ related to this, every instance of "the truth" being alluded to in this scene and every prior instance of mari being known to have a bad knee, what caused her to fall so easily after being pushed by someone so much younger than her in the first place) - the entire disappearance of basil as associated with sunny's trauma and guilt related to what he and basil did. Why would sunny repress basil of all people if mari had committed suicide? It's meant to make you ask questions. Honestly this is just shit I could think of off the top of my head. Others can add more if they feel like it. I could make a huge deep dive into every piece of foreshadowing in this game and it would be hours long. I'm sure other people have, and you can look into it for yourself if you'd like. but honestly after reading through your other posts it doesn't seem like you're willing to argue in good faith and I'll most likely just block and move on sometime after this. I could discuss a lot of your other posts with you but I don't see anything productive coming from it. You don't seem willing to consider other perspectives or, despite the amount of posts you've made about it, like someone who actually wants to understand this game or its messages. You've decided that it's bad and you don't care if your reasoning for it being bad is actually substantiated or not, you just want everyone to know that you think it's bad. My closing statement is that I hope you grow past this and also maybe catch up on some media literacy. Enjoy the rest of your day, or don't. Not my problem.

Fortunately, that's where the posts come in.

"In a story where we view everything from Sunny's perspective, someone who's been repressing everything about this incident so deeply"

You know what other work of fiction does this exact "protagonist with repressed memories has to face the truth of having killed their loved one" plot but does it way better? Silent Hill 2.

SH2's plot twist is that its main protagonist, James Sunderland, killed his wife Mary three years before the game's events and repressed the memory of the murder, convincing himself that Mary actually died of a terminal illness she was suffering from at the time he killed her. The terminal illness is a heavy factor in the murder - because it disfigured Mary and made her confront her own mortality at the age of 25, she repeatedly lashed out at James, who tried to take care of her despite his own despair. Eventually, watching his wife wither away and being powerless to do anything about it, Mary's mood-swings, resentment of the burden she put on him and a desire to relieve her of the misery she was in drove James to smother her with a pillow.

The reason I'm bringing it up is because SH2 actually foreshadows its twist - three out of the four characters James meets throughout the game vaguely reference that James' relationship with Mary wasn't as good as James implies it was, the fourth character (whom you fight as a boss and who killed a dog at some point before coming to Silent Hill) alludes to the fact that James must be a murderer too if he is in the town in the first place, Pyramid Head's design being based on a painting of an executioner and him pursuing James over the course of the game implies James is a criminal who wants to be punished, one of the locations James has to go through is literally a prison, etc. The "Hallway" conversation I've linked in the paragraph above is used by the game to show how James and Mary's relationship worsened after she contracted her illness; as I said, the dialogue clearly implies Mary had such mood-swings pretty frequently.

OMORI doesn't have much foreshadowing for the real cause of Mari's death, nor does it have anything similar to the "Hallway" conversation to show how harsh she got with Sunny. A good chunk of the hints the game provides (Omori's Furious emotion showing a single eye similar to Mari's hanged body, Something in the Water's little hanged bodies, Something's general design) would lead the player to believe Mari did kill herself before the story swerves around in its last hour and reveals that Sunny committed manslaughter. The only hints I could call hints are the prevalence of staircases in cutscenes before Sunny fights his fears and maybe the storage room, but even then my point stands - it's just not enough.

(oh, I also remembered the "You did it" poster in Orange Oasis. Which is an optional location, thus making crucial foreshadowing very easily missed. lol and lmao)

That brings me to your next point.

"I don't really see where a direct explanation of the build-up to the fight beyond that would fit."

Black Space.

Since it (ostensibly) represents Sunny's unpredictable subconscious, you could just make it the framing device for Sunny's backstory akin to Bojack Horseman's Time's Arrow, an episode where a character's backstory memories (traumatic and otherwise) are filtered through her emotional perception of the events at the time they happened and her unstable mental state in the present day.

A very good example of how Time's Arrow manages to convey trauma without sacrificing story is its signature scene - a formative memory from the character's childhood, in which she sees her father callously dispose of her beloved toy by burning it in the fireplace while telling her to keep her emotions in check and not to cry lest she ends up like her mother, who was lobotomized some time ago and consequently became a shadow of her former self. Since everything the audience sees in this episode is filtered through the character's emotions, her father's callousness is represented by the aforementioned fireplace behind him becoming a wall of hellfire, while her mother's status as a shadow of her former self is represented by her being a literal shadow with the lobotomy scar highlighted.

That brings me to your next point.

"A lot of the build-up due to that is expressed metaphorically through Headspace and Black Space."

Where? Literally where?

What, am I supposed to see the room with the "Peter Griffin chokes on a rice cake"-like BGM as a representation of the Deep emotional pain Sunny experienced as a result of Mari's scolding? lmao

That brings me to your next point.

Again, I was talking about the game not showing us the deterioration of Sunny and Mari's relationship over the course of their practicing. You seem to have missed that point completely, but just to make something clear

The parallel you're talking about doesn't even work. Mari was dead the moment she hit the bottom of the staircase. Basil was still alive and in active danger of dying, which means that he was able to be rescued.

Mari wasn't.

"Lots of people see spaceboy as a parallel to hero but no one thinks if sweetheart (and her chase of perfectionism all throughout the game) is a parallel for mari."

Actually, a lot of people do. It's the only theory about her I've seen floating around when people discuss the meaning she supposedly has, and I've been lurking around in this fandom for quite a while now.

By the way,

>>"People aren't just filling it in themselves like fanfiction" >>proceeds to use fanon interpretations as an argument

If that style of writing isn't something you like, that's ok! Completely understandable, not everyone wants to pick through the details for things like that

Implying that the work you're defending is just Too Genius™ for your interlocutor to understand isn't a great way to endear them to your argument.

But I wouldn't necessarily call it bad writing. You're allowed to not like something without it being inherently bad or poorly made.

The inverse is also true - you're allowed to like something without it being good! What constitutes a "good" work of fiction is subjective, after all. I have my own fair share of works I'm really fond of despite how shitty they are lol

Just don't get all defensive and insist that the work you like is too Subtle and Intricate to understand when someone points out the very glaring and numerous flaws.

(also bro really said "agree to disagree" and then wrote me a giant reply justifying their opinion lmao)

@welcome-to-grayspace

#omori #omori game #omori spoilers #basil omori #sunny omori #omori sunny #omori basil #mari omori #omori mari #you also tried to say that aubrey pushing basil into the lake and almost killing him vs sunny pushing mari and killing her aren't parallels #just bc one of them died and the other didn't. parallels aren't exact recreations of scenarios.#they're events or traits with similarities to eachother. the parallel in this case is that both lashed out impulsively during a fight #in a very similar manner leading to the other party being hurt #and it's used to show that a scenario like this doesn't necessarily require malicious or deadly intent #just an instinctive need to push someone away under stress. which notoriously does not help people make good or rational decisions #Aubrey wasn't in the RIGHT at all but she didn't want to KILL him either. She's not a scheming villain #she's an angry messed up teenager #and yet if hero hadn't showed up at that exact moment both sunny and basil would have died #but I digress

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prettybillycore · 2 years ago

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Emergency request. Hi, I’m not sure if you do emergency requests but I hope you do. Could you make a fic where the reader has a binge eating disorder and is comforted by Asahi, Noya, and Tsukki sorry if that’s too many. Feel free to deny this request. If this topic makes you uncomfortable once more feel free to deny this request. I hope your doing well.

TW: post contains discussions of EDs. Please do not read if this is a topic that upsets you. The fic itself is hurt/comfort, but please don’t push yourself to read if you are not in the right headspace.

Dear Anon- I have never received an emergency request, I’m so sorry that you have been struggling. I’m not sure how long this has been in my requests because I have been absent from Tumblr for some time (I only really made a return last week). Just know, I struggle with binge eating disorder as well and I feel your pain. I hope this helps you <3

Cas

CW: negative self-image, binge eating disorder, mention of a doctor's office, minor bullying, weight gain/body changes

You wanted to stop your binging episodes, but you just didn’t know how to. Which, in turn, only made you more anxious and caused you to binge more often. The people around you wanted to help, but they didn’t always know how to. However, eventually, it gets to a point where they can tell that you really need a comforting hand.

Asahi

You were always shorter than Asahi, but his towering size didn’t make you feel better about yourself. You still felt big.

As your disorder’s symptoms worsened, you stopped coming to his practices. You were one of the managers and the younger sister of Sugawara, so this was very out of character for you.

You two had been close ever since you started high school, you were in Nishinoya’s class and it just felt natural for the three of you to hang out all the time.

You fell in love with him quickly, but it took a while for you to admit it to him. You were afraid that he might reject you, even though the rest of his team assured you that he was in love with you.

Once you told him about your crush, he fell even more in love. He thought you were the best person he had ever met. Whenever you would talk about flaws or insecurities, he would do his best to make you feel better about them, even if he didn’t know what would make you feel better about them.

He’s already awkward about everyday stuff so he really didn’t know how to approach you about something so serious. He didn’t know what exactly was wrong, but by the looks that Suga gave him when he asked about you, he knew that it wasn’t good.

You two were both shy and quiet types anyway, so it wasn’t weird for you to take social breaks. However, this felt like it had gone past a social break and he was starting to feel incredibly worried.

It got to the point where Nishinoya said you had begun to miss all of your classes and he hadn’t seen you in a few days for more than a minute at a time.

That was the point where he felt like he needed to intervene. He knew Suga was trying his best to help you with whatever was going on, but he thought maybe talking to him might help. Everyone needs their boyfriend in dark times.

He asked Suga where you were. Your brother said that you had decided to stay home again and you were struggling with your health. Daichi overheard part of the conversation, and he knew that Asahi would not be able to focus on practice at all if he stayed, so he let him leave early.

He got over to your house as soon as he could and knocked on the door. He was surprised when you answered it, but he was glad to see you. He took you into his arms without saying a word and you started crying.

When you told him what had been going on, you were sitting on your bed. He had his hand gently resting on yours. He listened intently to every word. He knew that there was nothing specific he could say to help the situation, but he wanted to do everything he could to make you feel better.

If you got more emotional, he squeezed your hand and when you were finished he took you into his arms again. “I don’t know what to say, Y/n, but I will always be here to listen. You, me, and Suga will figure this out together okay?”

Nishinoya

You had grown up with Nishinoya around, you were Asahi’s younger sister.

You began struggling with your disorder in middle school and as you started your first year of high school, your insecurities only grew. You just felt like the other girls had better bodies than you did. You felt like you couldn’t appreciate the good things your body was doing because the bad just felt so heavy.

Your crush, Nishinoya, was not shy about his crush on the other manager. You understood why he liked her, but you also ended up putting yourself down about it. You felt like you couldn’t ever measure up to her.

Nishinoya noticed that even though you had signed up to be a new manager, as the year went on, you hung around at practice less and less.

He knew something was wrong when you stopped sitting with the boys at lunch and you started walking away from him when he would approach you. He was loud, there was no way you didn’t hear him.

He tried to ask Asahi what was going on, but your older brother didn’t seem to know much. He knew something was off, but he didn’t know what either.

One day, Noya couldn’t take it anymore. When you tried to get away from him in the halls after school, he lunged and grabbed onto the strap of your backpack.

“Cut the crap already, Y/n! What’s going on with you? You’ve been acting really weird!”

Leave it to Noya to cause a scene. The longer you stood there without an answer, the more people stopped and looked at your odd encounter.

“Nishi… Can we talk about this later? People are staring…”

He quirked his eyebrow and then looked around. “Huh? Oh…”

He glared, “What are you all looking at? Go home!”

People scrambled out of the hallway. No one wanted to deal with Nishinoya’s angry tone. You could tell that he wasn’t going to let you get away from him, so you started to explain why you had been distant. You went through everything; your crush on him, your disorder, and how you were scared to talk to someone about your problems. You didn’t want to bother him or Asahi with anything while they were in season.

You were both sitting on the floor in the hall when you finished explaining. He had been listening intensely, leaning forward and nodding along to your words. When you stopped talking, he leaned back and sighed. “Y/n… You’ll never be a bother to me. I really like you, like you like you and I want you to feel like you can come to me whenever. Asahi and I would never talk down to you about your problems. This eating thing is serious and I want to help you, I’m sure he will too. We can talk about our feelings later, let’s call your doctor, yeah?”

You reached over and squeezed his hand. “Thank you, Noya.”

“Always, Y/n.”

Tsukishima

Tsukishima, Tadashi, and you had been friends since middle school. They were your whole world, so you followed them to Karasuno. You couldn’t imagine doing this whole high school thing without them.

There was something that started driving a wedge between you during your first year though; Tsuki’s teasing.

It was nothing new, but as your symptoms from your disorder worsened and your body changed, Tsuki took notice. Every so often, he would pick at your choice of food or the fact that your shirt didn’t fit quite right.

When you were in middle school, he picked on your height and you’d pick on him for his right back. You had thick skin and you enjoyed poking fun at your friends. Though with your disorder, Tsuki had gone too far and you didn’t know how to tell him that.

You started hanging around the boys less. Even the other kids in the volleyball club started to notice that you weren’t around. Tadashi tried to talk to you to find out what was wrong, but you wouldn’t tell him anything more than you were mad Tsuki.

When Tsuki heard this, he was confused. It didn’t take him long to find you in the library during your lunch hour. You were slumped over a table, reading a book he didn’t recognize. Some girls were sitting at a table across from you, and he could hear them making fun of your appearance. He shot them a glare and they fell quiet.

“Tadashi told me you’re angry. What for?”

You didn’t look up from your book. “Why do you care?”

He pulled out a chair and sat down next to you. You could feel him looking at you. “Because I want to fix it.”

You put down your book at that notion. “The infamous Kei wants to apologize? Shocking.”

He rolled his eyes. “What did I do?”

“I don’t want to talk about weight or food anymore. No more jokes about that.”

He sat back for a moment and thought about what he had said to you. He could feel the guilt washing over him as you began to explain your eating disorder. He was honestly mad at himself for not noticing sooner. You were his crush after all, why didn’t he notice your change in demeanor?

He could see tears welling up in your eyes as you finished talking. You let out a big sigh and your shoulders slumped back over as they had been when he first entered the library. “I should have noticed, I should have never joked about any of that stuff. Picking on you is no fun if you’re taking it to heart. Let’s go back to picking on each other’s heights? I’m sorry, Y/n, really.”

“I forgive you, Kei.”

“I’m glad. I’ll learn more about your condition and if anyone else says anything to you, I’ll tell them off, deal?”

You smiled. “Deal.”

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bitches-who-write · 3 years ago

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Can you do headcanons siblings of the gang ? Like, how they act with them and how they treat them and how they let the gang act with them ?

Somewhat important note below~

So we know we said we take requests on a first come, first serve basis; however for the sake of time today (and due to the fact that we did not post anything last week) we decided to take on this request early. PLEASE do not be offended or upset if you are still waiting for your request! We promise we will be getting to them ALL. After this post now, we will go back to our fist come, first serve rule.

We have a few requests which we'll be writing longer stories for vs casual headcannons. Stories typically take us several hours to complete since your 2 lovely bitches who write do not live close enough to one another. We write together via FaceTime and Google Doc. We appreciate all your support and patience with us as we write you guys the best content possible! Enough rambling now, Enjoy these headcannons!!!

Patrick With A Little Sister-

Oh boy… Patrick is crazy over protective of his little sister.

Maybe the word should be obsessive and controlling instead~

He watches her every move. He even comes into her room as she sleeps just to occasionally check on her.

Whenever she gets out of Belch’s car heading to school, Patrick keeps a close eye on her again. Mentally noting everyone she talks to.

He makes sure everyone is in line. It doesn’t matter if it’s an adult or a kid. If they do something Patrick doesn’t like, they’re getting fucked up.

Patrick refuses to let guys talk to her. Only Henry, Vic and Belch are allowed to.

When Patrick isn’t around, he puts the other Bower’s Gang members in charge of her. And she knows well enough to listen to them.

He sometimes makes inappropriate comments about her, resulting in a smack off the head by the other guys.

Patrick LOVES to mess with her.

Always holding things over her head so she can’t reach.

Laughs as she tries to jump up and grab it from him.

He’ll lean down and rest his arms on the top of her head since she’s so much smaller than him.

When she doesn’t listen to Patrick, he will literally just pick her up and throw her over his shoulder and laugh as she struggles to get down.

Even though she’s a girl and a few years younger than him, doesn’t mean she’s safe from how rough Patrick gets.

He still wrestles her to the ground and puts her in a damn headlock.

Definitely gets a few bruises from Patrick playfully hitting her. (Patrick doesn't realize his own strength.)

One word… tickled. Patrick is always tickling the shit out of her to tease her.

It’s even worse when the entire Bower’s Gang joins in on torturing her.

Look… this is Patrick. So he still has a mean, sadistic side.

He gets off on fear so he loves to scare her anyway he can.

Whether that is by jumping out at her, or doing something dangerous and reckless like picking her up and dangling her over the cliff edge to the quarry. (she hates heights and doesn’t know how to swim.)

“Uh no! You’re slipping! Better hold on, sweetheart. I know you don’t know how to swim.” He chuckles darkly, smirking down at her as she grips onto his forearm tightly and cries.

Patrick doesn’t hesitate on the low- blows, either. Making comments that he knows will make her cry.

If she threatens to tell their parents on him, Patrick will grab her from behind agressively, making her gasp as he covers her mouth tightly and whisper tauntingly in her ear:

“Now, Now.. Just why would you say that? You know that only gets you in trouble, little one..” He chuckles darkly and tightens his grip in a painful manner.

Patrick With A Little Brother-

…… I think we all know how this ended…. Patrick disliked his little brother, Avery… a lot. You see, Patrick likes being the only male sibling. It’s less competition and less hassle for him. Only Patrick is allowed to make (more like break) the reputation of his family’s name in the small town of Derry, Maine. Bottom line, if Patrick had another little brother, it would result in the same outcome as Avery. Sorry.

Belch With A Little Sister-

Very protective. Does not let her out of his sight for a second.

Hovers over her when they walk in the woods so she doesn’t trip or fall down.

He brings her along when he goes out with the guys sometimes, unless he knows they will be partaking in illegal activities.

Keeps snacks in his car for whenever she rides with him and always makes sure she eats 3 proper meals during the day.

Not only does he have extra snacks but he has a first aid kit, too.

He’s always prepared knowing she’s small, so there’s a good chance she’ll accidentally get hurt hanging around the guys.

And yes, it has happened on more than one occeasion.

He checks on her during school and makes sure no one is messing with her.

After school, Belch makes sure she does her homework but never really helps her with it. Why would he? He doesn’t even do his own assignments.

For the most part, he’s pretty sweet but sometimes the big brother power goes to his head.

He makes her do her chores and his around the house.

If she ever did something wrong, Belch goes right to blackmail.

“I won’t let mom know about that F on your report card… only IF you wash my car everyday the rest of this week.

Henry purposely spills his drink on the hood of the car right after she just got down cleaning it.

“Opps.. looks like you missed a spot. Better get to it, kid.” Henry says mockingly as he ruffles her hair walking by.

Belch always makes sure she’s safe in bed by the end of the night though.

He even kisses the side of her head when the guys aren’t around.

Belch With A Little Brother-

He takes him under his wing.

Loves to talk about cars- the makes and models, horsepower, you name it.

Even though his little brother isn’t old enough to drive yet, that doesn’t stop Belch from giving him driving lessons.

But bet your life he threatens him before taking off. “I swear to fuck though man, if you crash my car, I will end you. Okay, now put it in reverse. Let’s go”

Belch watches sports with him and even plays in the backyard, as well.

Belch acts as if he’s his coach to prepare him for the school’s team.

He also teaches him how to properly lift weights and spots him, too.

Belch told him “the ladies love a man with muscles, so to keep lifting bro.”

Speaking of girls, Belch was the one who gave him ‘the talk’... in very elaborate and explicit detail leaving his brother shocked, disgusted, and intrigued all at once.

Although he does hang out with his brother from time to time, sometimes Belch chooses friends over family and takes off for long periods of time.

Belch for the most part tries to be patient with him, but still gives his brother tough love as a form of preparing him for the real world.

Overall, Belch is a pretty decent big brother.

He means well but sometimes misses the mark.

Henry With A Little Sister-

Their father works long shifts, often resulting in an absence in their home life.

Henry’s dad basically tells him he’s fully in charge of his little sister.

Henry acts pissed off about that like she’s a bother and interrupts his life but deep down, it makes him feel important for once in his life.

Henry is both very strict and protective over her.

He’s also very controlling such as who she’s allowed to talk to or what she’s allowed to wear.

Nothing short or low cut is allowed. She better not even think about talking back, either,

Henry doesn't have much patience for anything and his temper is even worse.

For example- Her short legs means she walks slower than the rest of them.

Henry rolls his eyes and ends up dragging her by her wrist or sometimes just throwing her over his shoulder because he can’t stand waiting for her.

When it comes time for school, Henry makes sure everyone knows she’s a Bowers. If anyone (child or adult) even just so much as looked at her funny, Henry is throwing hands.

Speaking of school, Henry doesn’t help her with any bit of projects or homework. “Don’t fuckin’ ask me! You do it, or don’t, I don't really give a shit.”

When it comes time for dinner, Henry makes simple stuff like peanut butter & jelly sandwiches, mac n’ cheese, or sometimes just fixes a bowl of cereal. But he always makes her clean up the mess / dishes after.

If she talks back, Henry has no problems getting in her face and yelling loudly.

Sometimes when his anger gets the best of him, he’ll smack her across the face.

He stiffens up when he sees the tears form in her eyes. Sometimes he just walks away and doesn’t want to deal with it, and other times he stands there stiffly and gives her an awkward hug.

“Sorry kid. I didn’t mean to hit you. You just pissed me the fuck off.”

Henry would never let anyone ever see this but occasionally he gives her a quick kiss to the side of her cheek when he’s feeling extra guilty.

Similar to Patrick, Henry loves to get on her nerves.

Tripping her as she walks by.

Embarrassing her in front of the other guys just to see her blush.

Smacking her off the head as he walks by- her angry face makes Henry laugh.

Tickling her to make her admit something or as a form of punishment because he knows she hates that.

Barges in her room without knocking first.

Warns her she's never, ever allowed to have a boyfriend. And if she has a crush on either Vic, Belch, or Patrick...she’s dead meat.

Won’t allow her to drink alcohol or smoke. If she sneaks and does it, Henry teaches her a ‘lesson’.

“Find you wanna drink? Then here, take it. But now you have to drink the entire thing.”

He smirks and watches her get sick from the alcohol thinking that actually taught her a lesson and will deter her from it in the future.

Speaking of drinking-

When their dad comes home drunk, Henry is the one to take all his shit just to protect her because deep down he does care about her even though he calls her a “little fucking shit” daily.

Henry With A Little Brother-

In Henry's warped mind, his brother is a guy too, so he doesn’t need to be coddled like his little sister does.

If Henry has to withstand hits and verbal abuse, then his little brother should too. “Why should he get a pass?” Henry scoffs.

Henry gives him a lot of tough love.

He tries to make him ‘stronger’ by saying some really rotten shit to him. “Builds character, get used to it, kid.”

Henry does teach his brother how to fight though. “Put those stupid fuckin’ books down pussy. Books can’t teach you how to be a fucking man, but throwing punches will.”

Henry gave his little brother his own knife for his birthday.

He told him since he’s a Bowers, he's a target so it will come in handy~

Gives his brother “advice” on girls and sex; telling him which girls around town ‘put out’ the most.

One day when his brother asked Henry about a particular girl Henry responded with: “Ooh yeah, (random girl’s name), the only thing good about her is her pussy. Face is busted.”

Overall, Henry isn’t too bad towards his brother but once again, when his temper is raging, no one is safe from him.

Vic With A Little Sister-

Overly cautious and protective of her. He’s basically like a helicopter parent.

When the guys are swearing around her, he covers her ears and tells the guys to cut it out.

“Guys! Language!”

“I’m only a few years younger than you guys, I’m not a child!” she retorts.

Patrick, being classic creepy Patrick circles around her. “Just give it a few more years babe. Based on how your mom looks...” Patrick licks his lips envisioning Vic’s mother until Vic smacks him in the balls making Patrick hunch over in pain.

Vic likes to keep her in sight so right after school, he goes straight to her locker and makes sure she rides home with them, too.

When they get out of the car to bully some kids, Vic tells her to stay put. He doesn’t want her involved in anything.

When walking through the woods to the quarry, He always has a hand around her upper arm for support when climbing down the embankment.

He watches her like a hawk when swimming, so paranoid something will happen. Again, think helicopter parent

While he’s sweet for the most part, there’s times he just loses his temper.

He’ll explode and begin yelling at her, only inches from her face.

Sometimes when she does something really, really out of line, Vic will shove her into Henry and Patrick.

“Here guys, teach this little bitch a lesson for me. And don’t go easy on her.” Vic says walking off to calm down.

A part of him feels a little guilty when he sees her cry but other times he feels it’s justified.

He isn’t overly affectionate with her around the guys, the most he does is put an arm around her shoulder.

Sometimes sneaks behind her and tasers her sides and laughs when she jumps and collapses to the ground.

But when no one is around, he 100% gives the best hugs.

When she’s going to a sleepover at a girl-friend's house, Vic tells her to be safe and mumbles, “love you.”

Back at home before bed, Vic will tease her for being paranoid as she makes her way around the house, triple checking to make sure all the windows and doors are locked.

“What? Afraid the boogeyman is gonna getcha?” Vic mocks.

If she’s having a nightmare and calls for Vic, he’ll come and sit on the bedroom floor next to her bed until she falls asleep again.

Vic With A Little Brother-

Vic isn’t as protective over his little brother as he is with their little sister; but he still cares for him.

He just feels that his brother is able to hold his own while his sister needs more protection/ guidance.

He let’s his brother tag along with the guys. They all don’t mind. If anything, they refer to his little brother as Vic number 2.

He genuinely listens to his brother’s interests. Okay.. sometimes he zones out when he drones on and on but he always acts interested.

Vic is pretty book smart so he helps his brother with school work, especially in math.

Tries to make his brother more confident when it comes to talking / picking up girls.

Basically acts as his wing man.

The guys try to give his brother tips on how to pick up girls...Vic usually tells him to ignore everything they say because all that's gonna earn him is a slap in the face.

Tells him not to listen to Henry or Patrick for girl advice.. EVER.

He does teach his brother how to fight though.

Just because Vic is one of the sweeter ones in the gang; that doesn’t change the fact that he’s in a gang to begin with…

When his brother told him he was being picked on, Vic taught him how to fight, but also got involved himself.

Nothing like sending an intimidating message to a few assholes.

When Vic and his brother fight with each other, he doesn’t hold back just because that’s his little brother.

Overall, they get along for the most part and Vic is a pretty decent older brother to his siblings.

224 notes · View notes

rmnamjoons · 4 years ago

Text

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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windermeare · 2 years ago

Text

Nathan Kim Answers The Web's Most Searched Questions | WIRED

The text in bold indicates the question. [the text in brackets indicates gesture.]

"Hello everyone, I'm Nathan and today I'm going to answer the web's most searched questions about… me, absolutely. Let's go!"

what is nathan kim do

"Like, right now?" [looks at the crews behind the cameras, grinning] "Doing Wired autocomplete interview."

what languages does nathan kim speak

"I speak English and Korean, these are my natives. I recently tried to learn French and Italian but yeah… I gave up." [laughs]

what is nathan kim job

[snorts] "Oh my gosh, who would Google that?! My job, my job… well, I recently tried acting—that is the latest one in my portofolio and you may have noticed that."

who is nathan kim best friend

"Look, I don't want getting any texts or calls tonight from the people in my contact just because I didn't mention their names in this interview. So, next question please!"

who is nathan kim's brother

"Wow, people are really so curious about this. I have many brothers—four, to be exact," [halts, stays still for a moment before continues] "sorry, I was counting my siblings." [laughs] "Yeah… four brothers and nine sisters. But if you're asking me about my brother, maybe you mean Gavin? I post a lot of pictures with him. The others are Sean and Ollie, the older one is Davi."

who is nathan kim crush

"My girlfriend."

who is nathan kim married to

"Who would Google that!?"

can nathan kim cook

"Yes, I can. As I have said in previous I come from a very, veeery big family. I am the third oldest and in the younger days, I had to help taking care of my sibs. Saoirse, Davien, and I would divide our tasks. I'm terrible at cleaning, I won't even do the dishes," [chuckles] "but I have always been proud of my cooking skill."

can nathan kim drive

"Again, the third oldest." [points at himself] "Of course I can drive."

can nathan kim play piano

"Yes! It's my favorite instrument to play. My mother taught me a lot."

why can nathan kim speak english

"I went to an American international school in Korea and my family travels a lot so I have been familiar with English since I was at a very young age. Maybe it also has something to do with my foreigner ancestors."

why is nathan kim called nathan kyle

"It's my name. Nathaniel Kyle-Kim, Wettstein. I changed my Instagram username to nathankyle once but after two weeks, I wasn't feeling it." [snickers] "I went back to nathankim until now. Whether you call me with Kim, Kyle, or Wettstein, it's all the same."

how tall is nathan kim feet

"Like, how tall is my feet or how tall I am in feet?"

how did nathan kim learn english

"I explained it before. Go and rewind this video, people!"

how did nathan kim lose weight

"Diet, definitely diet. I have noticed that I gain weight easily. Before and during filming for Dear.M, I went through a strict diet. Exercise is also important in a weight losing journey. It doesn't have to be pushed, y'know? At least 30 minutes a day would be enough, just be consistent at it."

does nathan kim act

"Yes and please wait for Shadow and Bone season 2, everyone."

does nathan kim go to college

"I did. You're looking at Leeds alumnus over here."

does nathan kim have tattoos

"I do have one, here on my finger." [shows his tattoo to the camera] "I match it with my girlfriend."

does nathan kim have a dog

"I don't, but I do have cats—two cats and I love them so much, they are like my own children. I don't think I'll ever get any dogs, my siblings already have them. Our house is basically a mini zoo."

does nathan kim reply to fans on instagram

"I don't know. Why don't you find out by leaving a comment on my post?" [grins and chuckles] "But speaking honestly, I find it easier to interact with fans on Twitter."

is nathan kim in a relationship

"I am," [a smile reaches his eyes] "A very happy and a very healthy one."

is nathan kim a solo artist

"What is the parameter for that? Do you think I am, or I am not?"

is nathan kim a kpop idol

"God, I'm not. I had a thought of that when I was younger but then again, I didn't think I would be able to follow through with my trainee days. I'll leave that one to my brothers. Stay strong, Ollie!"

is nathan kim left handed

"Again, who would Google that!? No I am not left handed."

is nathan kim allergic to spicy food

"Yes—maybe? I don't know, I haven't got anything checked but most of the times when I eat spicy food, my face would get swollen and my eyes would be itchy and sweaty."

is nathan kim allergic to cats

"Definitely and absolutely not. MK and Elsa are my children, how could you Google that!?"

nathan kim age

"Twenty-four. February 14."

nathan kim aesthetic

"I have no idea what does that mean." [laughs]

nathan kim motivational quotes

[throws a fist in the air] "My latest famous one: 'Bigmac Double cheeseburger', thanks to Twitter and those vodka shots."

nathan kim favorite color

"I don't think I have any. I like anything."

nathan kim new movie

"Oh, I have multiple projects I am working on. Please be patient and while we're waiting for it, go check out Shadow and Bones later. Thank you!"

— ENDS.

#nk #wired

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atlabeth · 3 years ago

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transferred part 20 - atla smau

part 19 | masterlist | epilogue

summary: trying to run from your past is hard, but falling for your brother’s roommate is even harder. little do you know that he’s falling for you as well.

a/n: me when i have to write more than 5 words in a series thats supposed to be a smau

anywho! basically the last chapter?? which is crazy?? filled with heartfelt emotions and the moment that you've all been waiting for, it's a wild ride. so strap in and enjoy. the epilogue will be posted later today so i can finally wrap this series up!! and dont worry theres a super long sappy authors note on the epilogue. LETS GET INTO IT

wc: 2.3k

warning(s): cursing, mentions of alcohol, hurt/comfort, one suggestive comment, mentions of toxic relationships, reader talking about her self sabotaging behavior and burnout, Bad Coping Methods (dont disappear kids)

“You haven’t seen her?” Zuko sighed as the same words he had heard on repeat for the past hour played through his ears again. “It’s alright, thank you. Have a good night.”

He shook his head at his friends, their defeated expressions mirroring his own as he leaned against the kitchen island. He ran an exhausted hand through his hair, and he couldn’t help but think of the countless times you had done it for him.

“Your sister doesn’t play when it comes to theatrics,” Aang lamented as he plopped on the couch next to Sokka.

“Tell me about it,” he muttered. “I mean, she doesn’t pull stuff like this. Sometimes she went over the top when she was younger, staying out a little too late or doing something stupid, but she never just… she never just tried to disappear like this. I.. I guess she was too worried about Katara and me to do anything like that, but still.” He knocked back the rest of the seltzer and tossed the can on the table — alcohol was tempting, but none of them wanted to be any less than completely aware tonight.

“We all knew she was hurting,” Sokka continued. “Not even she could be fine after everything that happened with Hahn, especially the day after, but I— I guess I thought that she would open up before just dropping off the radar completely!

“No news from the girls,” Aang announced, prompting a collective sigh from the other two boys. “I gotta give it to her, she’s been very thorough with this.”

“Of course she has. It’s classic Y/N — she can disappear without a trace, sure, but she can’t put enough effort into picking up some supplies for my project on her way home.” It was a lame attempt to lighten the mood, and though he got a weak chuckle out of Aang, it was radio silence on Zuko’s part.

“Hey, buddy.” It didn’t snap him out of his reverie, and Sokka seriously contemplated throwing his empty soda can at him. “You okay?”

“She didn’t even say anything to me,” he finally murmured, eyes trained on his phone screen. “She said she would tell me if she was having a hard time, but she didn’t say anything to me. Just suffered in silence until it got so bad she just up and left. She just… left. Without a single word to anyone. To me.”

Aang’s eyes softened and he let out a loose exhale. “Zuko, she didn’t mean to hurt you — I know that much. She’s just been under a lot of stress lately, and… I guess it didn’t manifest in the best way.”

“Stress...” he muttered, trying to piece it together. There was something nagging at the back of his skull, something on the tip of his tongue, but he just couldn’t get it. “And you guys are sure she hasn’t put anything anywhere? No texts that you missed, nothing?”

“Believe me,” Sokka said. “I’ve refreshed her pages a thousand times by now. It’s radio silence on her side. God, I wish I was more invasive and put like, a tracking device on her car or something! For all we know, she could be back to Kyoshi.”

Kyoshi. Stress. This whole thing, your disappearing act.

And suddenly, it clicked.

Zuko stood up abruptly, nearly knocking over the stool in the process and warranting puzzled looks from both of his friends as he grabbed his keys off the table and practically ran to the door.

“Zuko, where are you going?” Aang questioned.

He tugged the door open and shot a glance back at them, tension having noticeably dissolved from his shoulders.

“I know where she is.”

Zuko tapped idly against the steering wheel, once again glancing down at his phone screen but to no avail. His relationship with you had become infinitely more complicated since the kiss through fault of both of them — he supposed that was what happened when two people who didn’t know how to talk about their emotions caught feelings for each other. Zuko was very skilled at sticking his foot in his mouth whenever he tried to talk about anything like this, and

But you had accepted his offer to talk on the way home, so that meant something.

He had originally suggested just talking on the way home like he had proposed earlier, but you had a different idea. ‘Trust me,’ you had told him. ‘It has a good track record with making people feel better.’

Your proposition was a wildflower field on the outskirts of the city, just out of the way that someone would go en route to the university. Far enough from the city to emanate an aura of peace, but close enough to be a feasible trip.

“I found this place when I was missing home,” you smiled as he parked the car. “I love it here, don’t get me wrong, but sometimes I just feel homesick for Kyoshi. You passed a field like this on the way into town, and when I stumbled here, it just kinda felt like fate. So now whenever I’m stressed, or overwhelmed, or just need a break, I come out here. And I think this is the perfect place to talk about… well, whatever’s going on with us.”

“Sounds good.” He returned the sentiment then cleared his throat. “As long as we don’t go in there. I can admire it from afar, but just looking at that field is making my skin itch.”

You laughed and nodded amiably. “Deal.”

One hand was splayed against your chest, the other trailing lazy circles with the pads of your fingers against the metal as you gazed up at the sky. You had the best and only seat of the view, the flora drifting softly in the night breeze as the stars twinkled from above.

You didn’t know what you were thinking, being here. The past couple of weeks had just been… crushing you. It was like your heart was stuck in a vice and no matter what you did, it just got tighter and tighter.

You had been treating everyone you knew horribly, but you couldn’t stop. It felt like a game — how terribly could you act towards them until they snapped too? Until your friends, your siblings, Zuko, recognized that they had made a mistake by trying to help you?

And you didn’t know what it was about today, but… something inside of you just broke after that morning with your roommates. So you did what you were best at, and you ran. Skipped class, skipped work, just drove around aimlessly until even that was starting to feel like too much of a trap.

And then you ended up here.

It would’ve been laughable if you weren’t on the verge of breaking down.

You had been here, just laying on the hood of your car parked a few feet away from the field on an off road path, for the better part of an hour. If you were going to drown underneath the weight of your thoughts, it was better to do it alone.

But as you heard the crunching of gravel underneath car tires, your eyes instinctively shot towards the noise — so much for being alone — and you sat up. Your brows furrowed in recognition, you knew that car, and it felt like your heart was going to beat out of your chest when Zuko stepped out.

“You remembered,” you breathed after a moment of silence. “You’re here.”

“Always.” He said it so obviously, so easily — why wouldn’t he remember? Why wouldn’t he be here?

You scooted over to make space on the hood and patted the space next to you softly, pulling your knees up to your chest in a moment of shame as he walked around to the front and pushed himself up next to you. What were you going to say to him? What could you say?

“I’m sorry,” you said out of the blue, your words pouring out of you like an emotional waterfall. “I’m sorry for just— for just leaving, I know it was stupid and I know they’re all probably worried out of their minds, but I couldn’t do it, Zuko. I-it was like I was trapped, and I know it was irrational, but I had to get out of there—”

“You didn’t have to,” he said quietly, effectively stopping your rant. “If you really had to get out, you could’ve at least said something to one of us. I don’t know what things were like back at Kyoshi, but here— here, you can’t throw yourself back onto the knife every time something goes wrong, because— you just can’t do that anymore.”

“I’m not mad, believe me, I’m relieved that you’re okay. I just..” he sighed and glanced up at the night sky, the light of the moon illuminating his features as he faced you once more. “I know you’ve felt alone before, but you’re not. You have Katara, and Sokka, Suki, Toph— you have me, Y/N! And I’m not going anywhere, trust me, but— but you can’t keep doing this to yourself, because they care about you, and I care about you.”

You swallowed the lump in your throat and chose to concentrate on the hood of the car, tapping your fingers against the metal as a way to use up your nervous energy. “You’re… you’re right,” you said after a long moment of silence, the beginnings of a mirthless smile on your lips.

“After that night at the party, I just— I couldn’t stop thinking about what happened. There was a part of me that just wanted to lock myself in my room and never come out, but I— I told myself I was better than that, and I refused to let myself fall back onto any of it. So I worked. I took extra shifts, I helped out my professors, I did anything and everything I could to try and keep my mind off of Hahn. But I wasn’t helping anything, I was just… I was destroying myself. It was just like you said. I was a candle burning at both ends but still convinced that I was doing the right thing, and eventually.. I just couldn’t take it anymore. So I ran.”

“And— there’s always been this… this voice in my head that pops up after things in my life are going good, and it tells me that something is going to go wrong. A-and it tells me that if I’m the one that ruins it, then I don’t have to ask myself what I did wrong, if I could’ve stopped it from happening— if it’s inevitable, then I should be the one to ruin it. It’s how most of my relationships ended, and— well, the only thing it’s succeeded in is making me miserable.”

You don’t even notice your hands are shaking until you feel Zuko placing his own over yours — a simple gesture asking an unsaid question, one you answer by intertwining his fingers with your own.

“That same voice popped up again once I started getting close to you,” you admitted quietly. “And this whole time, I’ve been so terrified of falling that I never considered you would catch me. But I’m tired, Zuko. I’m tired of constantly looking over the edge.”

As you turned your head to meet his eyes again, your breath caught in your throat at his close proximity. You were sure that no matter how much time you spent with him, your heart would never stop beating out of your chest for Zuko.

“I will always be there to catch you,” he affirmed softly. “And I’m not going anywhere.”

And just like before, he brought his hand to the side of your face and tenderly brushed a loose strand of hair behind your ear. His hand, slightly calloused but emanating comfort all the same, lingered on your cheek for a moment before he posed the question.

“Can I kiss you?”

You nodded, and his lips captured your own immediately. You reciprocated with an almost desperate fervor and— and it just felt so right. You had grown so accustomed to the constant warmth he carried with him that it had become a part of you, he had become a part of you, and now a life without Zuko was just unimaginable.

He was right — he already was there to catch you, each and every time. Giving you endless rides when your car broke down, sitting through the world’s most boring anthro projects, letting you bare your soul to him, telling you it was all going to be okay when nothing felt okay, and managing to find you when you had gone out of your way to not be found. And all of it— it all made you realize.

You didn’t want to keep running. And you didn’t have to. Not anymore.

Zuko pulled away and pressed his forehead to yours, breathing slightly labored as the two of you sat in comfortable silence. That is, until you broke it.

“So,” you started, a nervous chuckle following. “Are we… are we a thing now?”

You could tell that caught him by surprise by the laugh that escaped him, a sound of unfiltered joy. “I’d say that we are.”

You could feel the heat rushing to your cheeks once more as he slid off of the hood of the car and held out his hand, an offering you took happily. “We should get home,” he said, somewhat reluctantly. “It’s past midnight, and—” Zuko glanced at his phone and grimaced. “They’re all still worried out of their minds.”

“Right,” you muttered. “I’m gonna get the lecture of my life from Sokka and Katara.”

“Probably,” he chuckled. “But they’re just doing their job as concerned siblings.” He pressed a chaste kiss to your forehead and glanced back at his own car. “I’ll see you back at the apartment?”

You nodded, an uncontrollable smile pulling at your lips. “Thank you, Zuko. For this, and— for everything.”

He returned the sentiment, golden eyes filled with adoration.

“Always.”

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starlessea · 3 years ago

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I See Red (Daryl Dixon/Reader)

Prompt: “If you hurt my brother, I’ll kill you. I swear I’ll kill you all.” Requested by @alex-sulli, numbers #25 and #29 from this post.

Summary: You’ll threaten anyone who dares mess with your little brother; and Daryl is left to pick up the pieces when you feel guilty for doing so.

Words: 2078

Warnings: Language.

Never before in your life had you found yourself at a loss for words. Whether it was rambling to Daryl during the early hours of the morning whilst he grumbled to let him sleep, or giving your father grief like it were an older sibling’s duty, you always had something to say. That was, however, until now.

Carl had his hands held up, directly in front of his face so that they were visible. He shot you a look, urging you to do the same. You didn’t. Instead, you glanced back and forth between your brother and Ron, like you couldn't quite comprehend what was happening.

"It's fine." Carl said, trying to reassure you. "I've got this."

He didn't.

You'd been upstairs, watching over Judith whilst your father and Michonne were on their patrols, when suddenly you heard shouting coming from Carl's room. You sighed, thinking you'd have to scold your teenage brother and his friends for being too rowdy when your little sister was fast asleep in her crib. At first, you let them off the hook, but when glass shattered in the distance you decided enough was enough.

You'd bound down the stairs with the practiced heavy footsteps of an older sister, already preparing your best yelling voice. Except, rather than the row you were expecting to give, you were rendered speechless as you flung open the door.

Ron stood with his arm outstretched, pointing a pistol directly at your brother. Carl glanced back at the sound of you entering his room, and pleaded with you to follow his lead. The other boy remained silent, but shifted his weight on his feet as you glared at him.

Ron was no killer; you watched as his hand trembled over the gun, and he chewed his lip between his teeth. He was no killer - but he was certainly an asshole.

"Put it down." You demanded, taking a few steps closer to him. "Now!"

The boy flinched as you yelled, and Carl glanced back at you nervously. You didn't care what he'd told you; there was no way you'd allow him to diffuse the situation alone. Your innocent baby sister lay asleep upstairs, and your younger brother was facing a loaded gun downstairs. You thought your father would actually kill you if anything happened to either of them on your watch.

Ron fumbled with the gun, narrowing his eyes at you like he was debating your words. You'd expected him to surrender it immediately, and let you march him home to his mother by the ear. Except, he didn't. He trained his aim on you instead, and his shoulders shook even more as he did so. You let out a bitter laugh in disbelief, and raised an eyebrow at him. He didn't back down, but neither did you.

Carl watched the exchange as you walked even closer to Ron, until the barrel of the pistol lay flush against your chest. He didn't pull the trigger; you knew he wouldn't. You could feel the cold metal quivering against your skin, and you took it from him without hesitation.

He let you, and took a few steps back in response to you getting even nearer to his face - so close that you could see his skin prickle from your breath on his cheek.

"If you hurt my brother, I'll kill you." You whispered, letting him feel the gun against his own torso this time. "I swear I'll kill you all."

The boy looked down at his shoes, as your foreheads pressed together.

"You think you can pull a gun on my family?" You questioned, forcing his chin up with your knuckle. "Then wait until you see what I can do to yours."

You unloaded the gun, letting the magazine fall to the floor as you watched the bullets scatter out from it. You took a step back, and watched as Ron seemed to take his first breath. He immediately glanced over at Carl for some support, and you laughed in his face as he did so. You couldn’t believe he dared have the audacity to look to your brother for help not even minutes after threatening to kill him.

"Get out." You spat, and the boy did just that.

Your jacket caught on the handle as you snapped open the door a little too forcefully, and you growled below your breath. You'd been looking forward to returning home all day, and having some time to yourself to relax - but now all you saw was red. You kicked the door shut behind you with your boot, and grimaced at the sound of it slamming, and the glass shaking in the pane.

Daryl looked over at you curiously, raising an eyebrow where he stood in the kitchen. He was covered in grease, and you guessed he'd been working on his motorcycle whilst you were with the teenage firing squad.

"How was yer day?" He drawled, pouring you a glass of water from the sink.

You sighed, and slumped into his chest when you reached him - letting your forehead drop against his shirt.

"I think I just threatened a sixteen year old." You mumbled there, and heard him chuckle as you did.

Daryl took a sip of the water, forgetting to offer you some first.

"Yeah, mine was good too." He replied, nonchalantly, and you hit him over the shoulder.

"Daryl-" you whined, not having the energy for playful banter.

He smiled at you sheepishly, and rubbed the back of your head, gently playing with some strands of hair between his fingers. There were oil-stains over his clothes, and he looked like he needed a shower. Though, at this moment, you didn't really care that the grease had rubbed off on you, or that your hair probably looked like coal dust.

"What did Carl do this time?" He asked sarcastically, but it made your blood run hot merely thinking about it.

"My brother didn't do anything." You snapped, and immediately regretted your tone. "It was Ron."

Daryl let out a low laugh, and you felt it rumble through his chest. He squeezed your shoulders, feeling the tension that had built up there.

"Does seem like kind of a lil' shit, don' he?"

You sighed; if only he knew the half of it. Daryl pressed his knuckles against your lower back, relieving the stress from your muscles. You closed your eyes, savouring the feeling.

"He pulled a gun on Carl." You admitted to the man, and instantly noticed as he stopped massaging your skin. "Then aimed it at me when I told him to drop it."

It was like you'd shown a red rag to a bull. Daryl went from completely loving to positively menacing in a matter of seconds, and stormed straight past you towards the door.

"Daryl, stop-" you called out, panicked. "He's just a kid."

You grabbed onto the man's shoulder, and he turned on his heels as you did so. His brow was furrowed, and you watched him narrow his eyes like he couldn't at all understand why you held him back.

"And kids should know their damn place." He growled, making your shiver.

You placed your hand over his chest, spreading your palm flat to feel his pounding heartbeat.

"He does. I made sure of it." You said quietly, trying to convince the man. "I'm just regretting the way I handled it."

Daryl immediately noticed the way your voice trailed off, and how your eyes dropped to the floor like you were ashamed. You weren't proud of what you did; but it needed to be done. You couldn't risk anything happening to your family - not when you'd all fought this hard just to stay together.

The man brought his hand to your cheek, coaxing you to look up and meet his eyes. You did, and he placed a soft, chaste kiss to your forehead - which you could feel him smile into ever so slightly.

"Is he still breathin'?" He mumbled against your skin, seeming to have calmed down enough to comfort you, instead.

"What-" you stuttered, before registering his words. "Yes, of course." You spoke, a little too loudly and a little too quickly.

Daryl chuckled, and wiped away some oil he'd gotten on your face with his thumb.

"Then ya handled it jus' fine."

There was a knock at your door not even an hour later. You'd told Daryl you would get it, but he bounded there before you had the chance - instructing you to stay on the couch and keep your feet up. He'd gotten a blanket and tucked you in so tightly that it felt like you were on an army base. You giggled to yourself, wondering if there was anything that man wouldn't do for you.

"Is she there?" Ron asked Daryl, mustering every ounce of confidence he had. "I want to apologise."

He scowled back, and practically snarled at the boy barely half his size but twice as stupid. Daryl was sure he could knock him on his ass as easy as the wind blowing a piece of paper through the breeze. He was scrawny, and fumbled with his hands like he couldn't dare to meet his eyes.

"Listen here, ya lil' prick." Daryl spoke, biting out the words. "Ya pull that shit again an' you'll have me to deal with."

You flipped the page of your magazine, re-reading the events from over a year ago and mumbling something about 'yesterday's news.' You tried your hardest to relax, but you had a nagging feeling that you couldn't escape from - making you feel antsy and on edge.

"Hi." Came the voice, wobbling through your living room like it was coated in a layer of shyness. "I just came to say I'm sorry."

Whipping your head around, you caught sight of Ron, shifting uncomfortably in the doorway. Daryl stood behind him, like he was blocking any escape route he may have planned - but in reality, he looked like a grouchy guard dog having come to make sure you were okay.

For the second time today, you felt speechless, and slowly closed your magazine before tucking it underneath a pillow. Not even an hour ago had you staked your life on how intimidating you could seem, and now you were bundled up near the fire like a grandmother with arthritis. You blinked, and stood up quickly - letting the woven blanket fall to the floor and kicking it under the couch like a poorly kept secret.

"I guess I was jealous of Carl." Ron continued, feeling pressured by your lack of response. "I'll never do anything like that again. I promise."

You met his eyes but he looked away, staring at the photo frames littering your walls - and resting his gaze over the picture of you, Carl and Judith in the centre.

"Damn right you won't." You finally replied, and watched the boy flinch like your words had cut him open.

"Come here." You instructed, and he listened.

When he approached, you slumped back down onto the couch, not caring if he noticed your glossy magazine slipping out from under the pillows. You patted the space next to you, gesturing for him to sit. He did, and the two of you stared into the red flames of the fire, watching them jump and splutter in front of you.

"When we're scared, we do stupid things." You told Ron, your voice coming out a lot softer than it had done before.

You caught sight of Daryl in the corner of your eye, leaning against the doorframe like he was content to watch from afar - leaving you to finish what you'd started. He'd always have your back, but sometimes he just wanted to hang back to see where you decided to take him.

"In this new world, you only have two options." You explained, and gave Ron's shoulder a gentle squeeze.

The boy jumped a little at your touch, but soon settled into it when he realised how different it was from earlier that day.

"You can either fight it, or accept it." You said, listening to the crackle of firewood as it turned into red embers. "Fear it, or control it."

A/N For my sweet @alex-sulli who always leaves the most wonderful comments that never fail to make my day :)

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liquid-luck-00 · 4 years ago

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My Life is One Complication After Another

Inspired by this post by @dolphin-ghost

Happy New Year everyone

Some cursing 🤬

Ao3 ~~~ Part 1 ~~~ Next

~~~~~~~~~~

Marinette has always been willing to give everyone a second chance. That may have been why she still had people to consider them as her friends. That is why when Lila started yet another lie about some celebrity she, Adrien, Chloe, and Juleka were holding their laughter and rolled their eyes.

"Honest Alya I'm like this" Lila crossed her fingers "with Bruce's kids." Alya must not have recognized the name as the liar gave a small laugh "oh, right Bruce Wayne, he prefers to only go by Bruce."

"Oh my God, Girl you have got to give me an interview for my blog!" Alya lapped up the story.

"Of course" Lila smiled, then looked over at Marinette "Anything for my best friend."

At this point, Marinette wasn't paying attention to the liar. Instead Mari was talking in low voices with her actual best friend, Adrien. They sat on the very back bench and Juleka and Chloe on the bench in front of them.

That was their normal, it had been since their eighth year. Now two years later it was routine, her classmates shunned her only talking with her for class assignments. Otherwise they ignored her and that may just have been the best outcome.

She, Chloe, Juleka, Luka, and Adrien were in the park working on a photoshoot. Adrien was behind the camera while Juleka and Luka were modeling. Marinette and Chloe were changing for the next set. When they came out Mari noticed several reporters around the perimeter. Security had them handled and she focused on modeling her creation.

However this wasn't the last she saw of the reporters. They were always at the school questioning the students. What they were asking she didn't know as she was never questioned.

Three weeks of spotting and avoiding reporters, with them swarming the school she needed to get creative in order to transform. Lila was of course bathing in the limelight and attention.

Mari was the last person out of the school as she was getting the homework for her three friends who didn't come today. The first thing she noticed coming out of the courtyard was the purple limo. Her honorary uncle came to pick her up. As soon as the door closed said uncle was crushing her in a hug.

"It's Rock' n to see ya Nettie" Jagged spoke, the hug muffling his voice slightly.

"Same here Jagged," wiggling out of Jagged's hug she reached over to hug Penny. "so what's with the escort?"

"A close friend of ours wanted to meet you and He and his son's are waiting at our room," Penny explained.

"Okay..." she hesitated exiting the car to head inside "but why? Is this a commission or what?"

After a silent elevator ride, Penny hesitated at the door before speaking. "We are hoping you could clear something up actually," as she opened the door.

Mari stepped in and noticed them. The eldest looked to be around mid to late thirties, black hair and bluebell eyes, dressed in a dark charcoal suit.

The youngest of the boys seemed to be a couple years younger than her, shorter than her by a head, tanned skin, short black hair, and jade eyes. A scowl on his face partially hidden by the collar of a black peacoat and slacks as he sat on the arm chair.

A boy around her age with chin length black hair and azure eyes, a red hoodie under a grey bomber jacket and black pants. He looked like he hadn't slept in at least a week, and if how he was holding the travel mug in his hands it was probably true.

Next to him was another boy who looked a couple of years older, black messy hair about 5 cm at the longest and a white tuff in front, cerulean eyes, a brown leather jacket and distressed jeans. He seemed familiar but couldn't place it.

The last boy also had long black hair but seemed to be layered and shorter in the front, sky blue eyes, a blue varsity jacket and jeans. He would either be the eldest or second, he had a bright smile but kept shooting a glance at Fang.

Speaking of which once she was in the room and she saw him, he charged at her, knocking her over. Mari was giggling as Fang rolled over and she was lost to the world as she doted on the crocodile.

"Nettie" Penny finally managed to get her attention.

"Sorry," she stood "but if it wasn't done we wouldn't be able to talk. Hello I am Marinette Dupain-Cheng it is nice to meet you." again she smiled.

"Bruce Wayne" the man introduced himself, "and my sons. My youngest Damian." he gestured to the boy with green eyes. "Next is Tim" gesturing to the boy with the mug who rose it in acknowledgment. "Jason is the second oldest" the boy with the white tuff gave a lop sided smile. "And my eldest Dick" whose smile seemed to become brighter.

She smiled nodding at everyone before realization hit. A quick snap of her fingers before pulling out her phone, opened up her texts and started typing, ending with a quick picture of Jason.

I think I just met your idiot friend

She put away her phone. Not even a minute later another went off.

The ringing stopped once, twice, thrice, and on the fourth Jason, spoke up. "Sorry I should take this."

"Go ahead this can wait a moment." Mari smiled.

As soon as Jason answered the phone "What the hell are you doing in Paris!?" everyone heard the caller as Jason was holding the phone an arm length away.

"How did you know... you?!" it dawned on Jason.

"Guilty," she smiled. "I guess you're not as big of an idiot as Roy made you out to be."

"Hey!" Jason called before turning to the phone. "What the hell did you tell her Harper!" By now Roy was on speaker.

"You can't prove what I said, ya know," she could practically see Roy's smirk.

"Video's however," she was now smirking.

"What!!" Jason seemed to freeze.

"Bug! No!" Roy was sounding like he was going to start panicking.

"I think I have a few saved," she tapped her chin.

That was when Bruce cleared his throat. "As amusing as this is we have business to discuss."

"Talk to ya later Mari." Roy bid her farewell. "Oh and Jason don't underestimate her." the call ended.

"Okay so how do you know Roy?" Dick finally asked.

"Oh. It was at a charity ball hosted by Oliver Queen," she replied nonchalantly.

"Was it the same one where a baby elephant ended up at the event. Following you the whole time." Penny asked exasperated.

"I still don't get how you think we had anything to do with that." Marinette finally sat down. She ended up sitting on the ground leaning against the couch next to Jagged, Fang resting his head on her out stretched legs.

"I have so many questions,” Tim finally added to the conversation.

"Tt. can we stop beating around the bush already," Damian was irritated and it showed. "Are you or are you not my biological sister."

He seemed ready to pounce, unfortunately that was dangerous in Paris. Especially as she saw an akuma right outside the window. The question asked now forgotten as she focused on the corrupted butterfly.

"Nope, Nope. I am not dealing with an akuma today." she stood up. Took a deep breath and let her anger and frustrations to the surface. The smile fell from her face. "If you want a puppet have a marionette" Kwamii Adrien is rubbing off on me.

The butterfly changed targets and was heading towards her, finally gaining the other's attention. She vaulted over the couch and made a beeline to her backpack. By then the akuma was close so she tossed the backpack over to everyone and rolled out of the way.

"Glass jar, unscrew it" she called out.

"How pathetic running from a bug." Damian moved quickly to catch the butterfly but it moved and found something in his pocket. He was engulfed in purple and then he stood there in evergreen armor with golden accents. A red and yellow cape and a pitch black sword in his hand. Pocket knife, the sword is where the akuma is.

"Screw it" she turned and with two quick jabs his two arms went limp. A third knocked him to the ground.

She picked up the sword and went to Dick who was holding the jar. She took the jar, broke the sword, and went to catch the butterfly. As soon as she screwed the lid on the butterfly began to turn white.

She let out the breath she was holding as she compartmentalized her emotions yet again.

"What the fuck was that!" Jason screamed and so did Dick, minus the curse.

"Where and why do you have one of those," Jagged asked.

Finally Damian shouted "Why can I not move? What did you do?" he accused.

"Okay so the butterfly was an akuma used by Hawkmoth, Paris’ villain, to manipulate anyone with strong negative emotions. These champions or Akuma are used to attempt to retrieve magical jewels from our heroes. The jar was given to me and a few others in my class, because our class is a hot bed for akuma, by Ladybug, one of the heroes." she gave a short and simple run down. "As for Damian, those were a series of pressure points,” infused with magic to-take down people easily, "it should wear off in a few minutes."

"Teach me please!" Tim begged.

"I dunno." she started to chew her lip and shift her weight.

"Roy's warning now makes a lot more sense," Jason hummed.

"Tt. adequate," Damian muttered softly, Marinette is sure she is the only one who heard.

"Okay so where were we?" she smiled turning and sitting back down with Fang.

~~~~~~~~~~

Taglist: @dolphin-ghost @unabashedbookworm @bookgirl14 @laurcad123 @mochegato @vixen-uchiha

#dc x miraculous #dc x mlb #mlb x dc #miraculous x dc #maribat #ml marinette #roynette #friend!adrien #bio!dad bruce #MLiOCAA

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fawnandshadows · 3 years ago

Text

After The Ceremony - Chapter 5

Happy Saturday!

I was going to wait until Tuesday to post the last chapter of After The Ceremony, but I just couldn't wait! I am so close to finishing the first chapter of my new fic called You Painted Me Golden which I will be posting later this week maybe even Tuesday. I wanted to thank everyone who has read, liked, reblogged, and commented on this story! I never would have finished without all of your encouragement, and I am so appreciative! This story can also be found on AO3

Rating: M

Word Count: 3,903

Warnings: Not super explicit, but nsfw just to be safe

Azriel was a wreck of nerves as he stared at the solid wooden door in front of him. Elain was on the other side — his soulmate, his literal soulmate, his other half was only a knock away, and Azriel, who had been in countless battles and performed unspeakably brutal acts without so much as flinching, was scared. He was scared to show her the knowledge the book in his hand held because even though he knew that Elain had feelings for him, what if she didn’t want this?

He took a steadying breath and raised his fist to knock when the door opened. His hazel eyes looked down to find a flustered Elain looking up at him, her brown eyes warm with relief and crackling with desire. The little sigh that escaped nearly broke him.

“Hi,” Az said lamely, but that was all it took for Elain to launch herself at him. Her arms twining around his neck and her legs wrapping around his hips, her sweet smell of jasmine went straight to his head, and he had to prop his hand against the door jam because his knees wobbled and threatened to give out. “Elain.” He groaned and took a deep breath, trying to inhale as much of her scent as he could.

“I missed you,” Elain whispered and pulled back to plant kisses across his face. She stopped long enough to give him a heated yet shy smile, “Thanks for coming back.”

“I’ll always come back, Elain,” Azriel said and pressed his lips to her forehead. She was so small it was adorable how easily she fit in his arms, even when he was holding her she wasn’t quite eye-level. “Always.”

She beamed at him, and her smile looked like sunlight streaming through a rain cloud, and suddenly every worry, every hesitation, and every apprehension disappeared. He walked through the door, set her on the closest surface —which happened to be the counter in her kitchenette that was also splattered with flour and filled with baking equipment— at his questioning glance she said, “I was stress baking.”

Azriel released a small chuckle and fully took in her appearance. Flour was sprinkled in her messy hair and her cheeks were flush, she had an almost drunken look on her face as she gazed at him with heavy eyes. She looked absolutely adorable. He loved seeing her rumpled and flustered. And suddenly an image burst into his mind of Elain with a rounded belly breaking bread, and two children — an older male with dark hair, and a younger female honeyed hair— running through the kitchen, and his heart started to ache.

The small smile on her face tugged at his heart.

“Have you seen that? In one of your visions,” Azriel asked and at her confused look he explained. “Us, or you, with children.” The loving, knowing smile on her face was his answer.

Wordlessly, Azriel opened the book from the library and handed it to her. She looked surprised, as if she had forgotten everything that had happened that morning, and took the book from him. A frown creased her brow as she concentrated on the words in front of her, and Azriel soaked in every small movement her face made. He was so used to watching her from afar that he relished the opportunity to gaze at her freely. Her face was so naturally expressive it warmed his heart that she didn’t feel the need to guard herself and hide what she was feeling around him, he had noted that she did it with the rest of their family, but not with him.

Slowly Elain lifted her head and her wide eyes connected with Azriel’s. He spent the last 500 years training himself to have an unreadable face at all times, and all that hard word came crumbling down as Elain let out a breathy “oh.” He let her see everything he was feeling: his fear, his anxiety, his limitless and unyielding love. He put it all on his face for her to see.

Elain, more collected than she had the right to be, placed the book beside her and cupped his face in her hands. Azriel stepped between her legs, and his hands gently landed on her hips. He felt the breath leave his lungs as Elain pressed the sweetest kiss on his lips. She pulled back just enough and said, “I love you, Azriel.”

Her heart was threatening to crack her ribs in two. Elain couldn’t bring herself to say anything else once she saw the openness on his face, her heart almost broke at the tender emotions laid bare on Azriel’s beautiful face. Elain watched, and the shadowsinger was surprisingly easy to read without his walls up — she saw the disbelief, the twinge of uncertainty, and wanted nothing more than to wipe away all of his fears and self doubt. She supposed she had the rest of her life to do that.

“I love you, Azriel,” Elain repeated herself and brought his face closer to hers. She brushed her lips against his, which were slightly more puckered than usual due to her hands holding his cheeks, and she had to hold her own tears back as she felt his warm tears stream down his face. “And I need you to know that. This soul bond between us, whatever it is, I would love you just as much without it. I love every scar on your body, and I won’t stop loving everything about you until my heart stops beating because it only beats for you.”

She kissed him again. Her fingers cupped his strong jaw, and his grip on her hips was so tight she knew there would be bruises, but she didn’t mind — she loved how strong he was, and she didn’t want him to hold back, ever. Their lips moved together, slow and unrushed yet Elain could feel his emotion with every brush of his tongue. She pulled back and brushed away his tears with her lips. Her hand slid down his neck to rest over his chest, and Elain could feel his heart pounding just as hard as her own.

“Soul mates, huh?” Elain asked with a silly grin. “How would you feel if I said I already guessed that?”

Azriel let out a harsh laugh.

“Did you?”

Elain gave him a playful nod and said, “Yes. Ever since we all sat down to dinner the first night, I just couldn’t get you out of my head, and when you came for me. I was screaming so loudly, so loudly down whatever bond I could find, and you came for me. When I saw you I knew that my prayers had been answered — in more ways than one. That was when I knew you were the only male for me. The only male that I would ever want. The only male I would ever love.”

Azriel’s hand came up and pressed against hers, pushing her hand closer to his chest to feel the beating of his heart. He licked his lips before saying in a broken voice, “This is yours. I tried to ignore it for so long, I hope it wasn’t — I hoped my heart couldn’t belong to someone else because that’s fucking terrifying. And I thought that it made sense in a perfectly twisted way, that I finally found someone I could love and somebody who could love me back, but the only catch was that she had a mate— the cauldron had given hers to someone else,” A small smile formed at his lips. “I should have known you wouldn’t give a damn about what the cauldron said. I’m not very good with my words, but I will show you everyday that I love you. When I bring you coffee in the morning. When I kiss you awake and kiss you to sleep. When I have to beat up Cassian for the stupid things he says,” Elain couldn’t stop the laugh that forced it’s way out. “Just know that whatever I do, I do it with love for you.”

Elain flung herself at Azriel, and this time he was prepared for her. His arms enclosed her in the safest place she had ever known. Azriel lifted her off the counter, without breaking their kiss, and carried her into her room. He only stopped when his shins hit the wood of the bed, and he let out a curse as he took in the tiny cot.

“It was just meant for one. I don’t think my sister thought I would be… entertaining in the bedroom.” Elain explained with a blush. Gods did he love when she blushed.

“Hold on tight, Love.” Azriel said, and Elain knew what was coming next. In the blink of an eye everything was black and she was engulfed in shadow, and a moment later she was back in Azriel’s room. It looked exactly how it did early this morning when she left it. The same fire crackling in the fireplace and the same cozy quilt on the bed. Elain thought it was cute that he slept with the quilt, but she wasn’t sure why.

Azriel tossed her gently on the bed, only to prop his arms on either side of her, and kiss her again. He kissed her as if he were drinking from her, sipping at her lips, as if she was his only source of life. Elain let out a moan as her finger went to his hair. She loved his hair. He kissed her, and with every kiss they leaned a little farther back on the bed until he was crushing her with his weight. She loved how heavy he was on top of her; it made her feel safe. Elain brought her legs up to wrap around his hips, and she shifted her legs forward in a deliberate move, and this time they both let out a groan at the friction.

Scarred hands fisted in her dress, and Azriel pulled away to ask, “Can I take this off?”

“Yes,” Elain said breathlessly. “Just don’t rip it. It’s hard to find dresses that match your siphons.”

“I love you so much,” Azriel said with a surprisingly gentle kiss, and removed her dress with such delicacy it was borderline reverent, and in no time she was naked beneath him.“And I’m going to tell you every day for the rest of our lives. Morning,” Azriel pressed his lips to her lips. “Noon,” He kissed her bare stomach. “And night.” He pressed a kiss to her hot center.

All of his desperation seemed to have melted away and he licked at her like she was the sweetest thing he had ever tasted, as if she was something to be savored and enjoyed. Elain wished she had his serenity, but her fire was burning hotter than ever, and Azriel’s tongue was the only thing that could soothe her. She gripped his hair a little too harshly and ground against her face in a lewdness she had never experienced before.

The growl that came from Azriels throat vibrated in all the right places that she couldn’t stop herself from coming all over his face. She rode out her orgasm, until the fog lifted from her mind, and when she opened her eyes she saw his molten eyes gazing at her as he licked her center. His wings fluttered ever so slightly.

“Oh,” Elain said with a sudden wave of doubt. “Was- was that ok?”

He grinned at her in a way that promised pleasure and said, “That was more than ok,” He crawled up the bed to her until he was right above her. “I think hearing you scream as you come on my tongue is my new favorite sound.”

Elain’s face heated and she gently pushed his shoulder.

“Do you think someone heard?” Elain whispered and Azriel threw his head back with a laugh. A wild and free sound that resonated deep in Elain’s soul. He didn’t think he had ever laughed when he was in bed with a woman before, but he found he loved it.

“I hope they did.” Azriel said with a self-satisfied smile, and laughed even harder at Elain’s horrified expression. He didn’t stop himself from kissing her nose. He would never stop himself from kissing her ever again.

“Az!” Elain whisper-yelled, and Azriel couldn’t help but adore her more.

“Promise me something,” Azriel said. His hand found hers, and he wrapped their fingers together before brushing his lips against her delicate fingers. “Promise me that you will never hold back. Never suppress your sighs, moans, or screams — even if you’re screaming at me for something I did wrong,” The vulnerability in his voice nearly shattered Elain’s heart. “Never feel embarrassed when you feel anything, especially when you feel pleasure.” The vulnerability melted away into something smoother and headier that caused Elain’s skin to heat and prickle.

“I promise.”

Azriel shifted just a little and Elain felt the blunt edge of him at her entrance, and she didn’t even try to stop the moan came from her throat. He brought their entwined hands up over her head, and the other placed itself at her hip. Elain would have sworn that her blood was boiling wherever he touched her.

“Are you ready?” Azriel asked, and Elain was too muddled from her lust to form words, so she gave him the barest of nods. His lips captured hers is a slow, lazy kiss, and if Elain were capable of thinking she would have been irritated by how collected he was. She felt more impatient than she had in her entire life, and true to her promise she didn’t hold back, she lifted her hips and let out a sharp breath at the feel of him inside of her.

Elain’s eyes had opened just in time to see Azriel’s roll back into his head.

“Fuck.” Azriel let out a jagged breath. He held himself still, Azriel knew how large he was and that Elain needed to adjust to the size of him, the feeling of her soft, velvety heat clenching around him — coupled with an ungodly amount of restraint — caused his body to tremble. He waited until he felt her relax around him before pressing deeper into her, and after a small eternity she accepted all of him.

“Elain,” Azriel said in a strained voice. He waited to hear Elain’s incoherent mumbling before speaking again. “I’m not sure how gentle I can be.”

The brown eyes that gazed up at him somehow turned incredibly clear.

“I’ll take whatever you give,” Elain said with a loving smile. “I don’t want you to hold back either.”

She had shattered his self control — completely annihilated it and smashed it to smithereens. He heard him promise her that the next time would be better, but his hips were already snapping into hers, and then their lips were seering each other's skin, and the smell of their arousal and sweat perfumed the room.

Neither of them cared that the bedframe was hitting the wall at an alarming rate, and that if their family didn’t know what was happening, then they certainly did now.

The only thing the lovers cared about was each other.

Azriel had never left so drained, yet so light, after making love. Actually, Azriel thought, this was probably the first time he had ever made love before.

Soon after Azriel found his release he gracelessly flopped onto Elain. He didn’t have the strength to lift himself up, or pull himself out of her body, but he needed to feel her. Feeling her skin against his reminded Azriel that it was real — that what had happened between them, something he had never even let himself dare to hope, was real and that no one would take it from him.

“Azriel?” Elain said, her voice thick with sleepy pleasure. This time it was Azriel’s turn to form some type of disjointed reply of random sounds, which caused a sense of giddiness to flood Elain. She had done that to the shadowsinger. She made him feel so good that he couldn’t form words. “I think we should do that as often as possible,” She suggested and was pleased when she felt him nod. His head was tucked into her shoulder, and his hair tickled her neck. “I think I want us to make love in a meadow. I found this beautiful clearing a couple months ago, it’s so secluded, it would be the perfect spot. I want to see how your skin looks in the sunlight, fully exposed. All of your skin.”

Azriel could tell that she was slightly embarrassed by her request, and his heart thrummed excitedly with the knowledge that she felt safe and comfortable enough to share that with him. He didn’t think he would ever get used to that. He peered up at her and said, “As you wish, my love.”

Eventually, their frantic love making turned into lazy melding of their bodies and souls. All day and night they planted hot kisses on each other, their bodies easily finding a perfect pace every time they made love, and they stopped only when they felt the need to sleep, but whoever woke up first would wake the other in the most delightful way.

Nobody dared disturb them. Not even to bring them food.

As the dawn broke the next morning Elain and Azriel came to an unspoken agreement that it was finally time to face their family and return to reality, no matter how much they wished they could stay in their own world they created. When they finally tore themselves away from each other long enough to put some clothes on and go downstairs, they realized how hungry they were. Not two seconds after smelling the freshly cooked bacon did Elains stomach growl, in a very unladylike way, and notify everyone in the dining room of their presence.

Everything looked almost the same as it did the day before, except this time Mor was sitting at the table with an absurd amount of food piled on her plate, and Lucien was nowhere to be found.

Mor was looking at the pair with a knowing grin, and Cassian’s wolfish smile was almost enough to ruin the bliss that Elain and Azriel felt. Almost, but not quite. Feyre and Nesta looked almost as happy as Elain felt, and both Az and Elain were surprised at the happiness on Rhysand’s face.

“Good morning.” Elain said tentatively. She noted that they didn’t bother to wait for them to eat. Azriel didn’t say anything, but he followed Elain to the buffet table and held two plates that she filled with bacon, ham, eggs, bread, and potatoes. It was more food than Az had ever seen Elain eat at once, and a blush coated her cheeks at his raised everbrow. It was obvious to everyone in the room how Elain had worked up such an appetite.

They remained silent as they sat in the two open seats at the table, ignoring how everyone watched their movements. Azriel smiled fondly as he watched Elain prepared their coffee.

“Took my advice, huh?” Cassian broke the silence, which caused a flurry of events. Mor, Feyre, and Nesta all scolded him — Mor even smacked him on the head. Amren gave an amused smile, and Rhysand rolled his eyes affectionately, but his smile turned wolfish as well.

“Do you know?” Elain asked, fighting off any embarrassment she might have felt. She didn’t love the idea of her family knowing all of the sensual details, but she knew she did nothing wrong. Maybe someday she would feel more comfortable discussing her sex life, but right now she wanted to keep it between her and Azriel. “About the bond?”

They all nodded their heads.

“And you're happy about it?” Elain asked the group, but it was really directed towards Rhysand.

“Why wouldn’t we be?” Rhysand said with an annoying grin. “A bond created by the Mother certainly trumps a mating bond, and now that there is no cause for a Blood Duel there’s no real chance of you guys starting the next war,” The High Lord stopped and thought for a moment. “Hopefully.”

Elain reached under the table to grab Azriel’s hand to give it a squeeze. All of her worries were quickly vanishing except one. She turned to Feyre to ask, “Is Lucien still here?”

Feyre looked at her with surprise in her blue eyes, and Elain knew why; She never once sought out Lucien before, but Elain had hoped to catch him before he left. She didn’t want any more misunderstandings or hurt feelings.

“He’s packing now,” Feyre explained. “At some point yesterday after you left breakfast Lucien tried to feel you through the bond, but the bond wasn’t there,” Her eyes went back and forth between her sister and the spymaster. “We connected the dots after Mor told us what happened.”

“I’d like to speak with him before he leaves.” Elain said, and that was the end of that. They all went back to their breakfasts and simply enjoyed the food and each other's company, and they tolerated Cassian’s crude jokes.

It was an hour after they had finished breakfast that Lucien was ready to travel home to the human lands. Feyre, Rhysand, Elain, and Azriel waited in the parlor to see him off. Lucien shook hands with Rhysand and said a quick goodbye before turning to Feyre to give her a warm hug. When Lucien finally turned towards Elain, who was tucked into Azriel’s side, his eyes widened and he let out a small gasp as he saw the bond between them. For whatever reason he hadn’t noticed the bond between them yesterday, and it was only now that he saw the silver-blue river flowing between them. Elain would have loved to see it again.

“I hope you travel safely,” Elain said with a kind smile. “And I hope there are no hard feelings.”

Lucien tipped his head towards her and said, “I hope you are happy,” He turned towards Azriel and almost all of the warmth in his face had faded. Their relationship was still impersonal and cold, but they had hundreds of years to fix that. “Treat her well.” Was all the goodbye that Azriel got, and the shadowsinger’s response was only a narrowing of his eyes.

“Oh, Lucien!” Elain remembered right before Lucien went on his way. A big smile formed on her face as she said, “Vassa loves orange carnations. Especially ones from the field where you walk.”

Elain was delighted by the blush that appeared on his face, and the stutter that he had as he tried to figure out how she knew. It took a second before everything clicked into place and he realized that she had seen it. Lucien gave a warm thank you before leaving.

“Playing matchmaker?” Feyre asked with a bright smile.

“The world could use more love.” Elain responded before beaming up at Azriel, and she saw him gazing down at her with pure adoration and unadulterated affection. Love churned in his hazel eyes.

“I agree.” Azriel muttered and pulled her into a kiss.

They were finally free to kiss as much as they wanted, and Azriel was going to make every kiss count.

#elain archeron #elain acotar #elriel fanfic #pro elriel #elriel fanfiction #elain x azriel #elriel #pro azriel #azriel #after the ceremony #after the ceremony chapter 5 #my fanfiction #my writing #acotar fanfiction

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