low lying clouds

It’s Love, Not Gratefulness (Soldier!Shownu x Reader)

This was requested by @yoongi-oppa, and boy was a psyched to write this bad boy! (BTW, sorry for taking so long, I was having a really hard time figuring out plot since this is mostly story driven.) I really, really loved writing the plot for this one, I took all my prior and very minimal knowledge of playing Halo and CoD to write this one lmao! Pardon if any terminology is wrong in here, this is probably not how one properly cleans a bullet wound tbh I hope you’ll enjoy this though! 

p.s. GIF is barely relevant to the story, I just thought he looked so good lmao. I couldn’t resist Shownu in a white shirt, god bless.

Originally posted by jooneh

When Shownu was drafted for the war, he didn’t realize it would also be the moment he lost most of his humanity, his compassion.

During boot camp he had been notoriously stoic and quiet, but that was just his personality. He was a man of few words and his superiors saw him as something to conquer, to break. For them he was one of those rare challenges that only come every few years and they tried there hardest to make him suffer. Shownu lasted through those three months of hell only because of his pride and sheer will to defy expectations. He couldn’t say he didn’t have his moments where he caved in on himself, what man didn’t have a few though?

They were only humans, not machines.

He remembered his parents crying, saying he was too young to be in the war. His mother’s tear streaked face as she held onto him for dear life before he got on the train, like she was never going to see him again. He might have been young, but Shownu was the eldest in his squadron, under his captain of course. The rest of the so called men, were boys; still fresh faced, full of patriotism, and eager for action. Shownu thought he was ready as well, albeit not yearning for bloodshed as much as the others, he just didn’t know.

He didn’t know this would be the most terrifyingly beautiful time of his life.

He remembers being assigned to the mountains, where towns dotted the valleys and even clung to the sides of the mountains like industrial parasites. He thought it strangely haunting when they first flew into the mountain range by helicopter, the low lying clouds twisting near the ground as if hiding whatever lie beneath. They were there to clear out any remaining enemy forces that were lingering behind, a simple task for rookies.

As soon as they touched down though, his squad was lit up like a Christmas tree. There was gunfire on all sides; somehow the enemy had gained knowledge of their destination and arrival time, planning for an ambush. Shownu clearly remembers fumbling for his M4 Carbine, his eyes widening as he saw Minhyuk, the closest thing he’d call to being a friend, get tossed into the air like a rag doll. Grenade, he thought mechanically, body moving away from where Minhyuk’s lay in multiple pieces. He felt the contents of his stomach rise in his throat but he managed to hold it down, eyes dragging away from the mutilated bodies that fell to his left and right.

Shownu had been at the top of their graduating class, excelling particularly in marksmanship, but now his fingers felt numb and he couldn’t find it in himself to shoot. He admitted he was afraid to fire at another man, finding the thought of having another’s blood on his hands completely revolting. A sudden burst of gunfire to his right made him instinctively roll behind a low brick wall beside him. Sweat poured down his face already and his uniform was covered in grime from the rubble around him. He scanned for the owner of the firing, finding no one much to his chagrin. The broken down buildings offered pretty optimal coverage, but still allowed a sniper to pick people off easily from the rooftops. 

He realized then how vulnerable he was at that moment, heart quickening as he searched for safer cover. He was a sitting duck essentially and he started as he heard the sharp boom and echoing of an M24 Sniper, no doubt having hit its mark. If he stayed in one place longer than a few minutes he was already dead, so he decided it would be best to enter a building and find his way to high ground so that he could scan his surroundings and formulate a better plan.

Shownu remembers somehow slipping, his combat boots sliding along something wet and slick. He fell to a knee, dust and rubble flying into his eyes. His fatal mistake was when he attempted to stumble away with his back open and only one hand on his weapon, free hand swiping at his eyes. He heard the whistle, felt the impact in his leg like a sledge hammer, the searing pain that raced up his thigh and into his chest. He went down almost instantly, body feeling heavy and feather light at the same time. He somehow recalls he’s still in the middle of a battlefield and through his blurry vision, sees a broken down alley. He began to drag himself across the ground, groaning as he felt the wet hotness of blood soak through his pants and down his leg. After what felt like an eternity, he found himself propped against the alley wall, his gun laying uselessly beside him. It’s not like he could lift it right now to accurately defend himself, he knew he was dying too, so what was the point? At the rate he was bleeding out, he estimated he had been hit in a major artery and only had ten minutes at most before he passed out from blood loss. He took a shuddering breath, realizing he didn’t contribute at all. He had been the top graduate from the academy, yet he hadn’t been on a battlefield for thirty minutes and was already down.

Before darkness pulled him under, he thought to himself, that it was better this way.

He was better off dead.


Your eyes stung with sleep deprivation, knees weak with hunger as you waited for the droning of helicopters overhead to fade off. You hugged your arms around you for warmth as you picked your way out of the broken down building you used to call home, glancing at the sky to make sure there were no stragglers. The firefight had only lasted about three hours, if the sad excuse for a watch you used still worked properly. The incoming wave of soldiers walked right into a trap the moment they landed, and you felt nothing but pity for them. At least they had managed to clear out the rest of the enemy forces that had been lingering here. Saved you a lot of trouble, maybe now you didn’t have to hide in a closet for hours on end anymore. From the amount of bodies around you though, they had suffered a lot of casualties. You walked down the main road of your town, your bare feet numb to the broken debris underfoot as you scanned for any bodies. You were the last living inhabitant of your small town, and the only one for a few miles around too probably. You had explored outside and to the town over and even the one up the mountain, but the people there were hostile and unwelcoming. So you stayed, waiting out your time and chipping away at leftover resources and whatever soldiers had on their person, usually standard military provisions that were made to only last a few days. You figured when you finally ran out of food and water you would then think about moving elsewhere, but for now you were content with the autonomy and isolation.

You didn’t usually find survivors, you waited long enough that they were all usually dead by then. You really were softhearted, regardless of your cold tactics, so when you stumbled upon a man that was still barely breathing in an alley way, you felt your stomach sinking at the sight. He was propped against the wall, eyes shut as his breath whistled softly between his parted lips. His leg was a mess to say the least, a clean shot through a major artery in his thigh. You crouched down and gently peeled back the torn fabric of his pants and winced as it stuck to the bullet hole. You heard him give a small whimper in his sleep, your heart skipping at his vulnerability. You realized then you couldn’t just leave him, he looked so young, probably your age.

You carefully searched his person, looking for any medial supplies through his pack that was abandoned and unopened beside him. You realized he hadn’t even tried to help himself at all and you felt sadness curl in your stomach. When you found nothing you pursed your lips, as you mumbled to yourself, “They’re really starting to get slim on provisions now, aren’t they? Not even giving basic medical supplies to soldiers anymore.” He wasn’t bleeding, which surprised you more than anything really. How he wasn’t dead was an anomaly.
You stood up, talking more to yourself than him, “I’m going back to my house to get medical supplies. Don’t die while I’m away, okay? I’m putting myself out there for you, buddy.” You don’t know why you expected a reply, but you somehow tore yourself away and headed back out onto the main road that led to your house at a light jog. From all the attacks that happened at your town, you had scavenged quite a collection of medical supplies. You first began to do so when the war had initially started because your mother was the town’s doctor. You knew so much now, having picked up basic wound care and suturing from her. Now that it was just you, those skills just weren’t as useful anymore. You’re sure your mother would’ve wanted you to actively go out and aid wounded soldiers, but to tell the truth, you were too afraid after seeing all the destruction they caused. 

You quickly retrieved the supplies you needed from a room in your house that used to serve as your mother’s clinic. You stuffed everything into a bag and left to return to the wounded soldier in the alley way, mind pondering and repeating the basic steps of treating a bullet wound.

He was still in the same position as before, propped haphazardly against the crumbling wall. On your way back from your house you had ran as fast as your bare feet would allow, suddenly scared he actually was dying, making you desperate to return. As you knelt beside him again, you took your knife and carefully cut into his pants a hole big enough to access his thigh. You inspected the wound closer and eyes widening, “You don’t know how lucky you are, soldier. The bullet went clean through and you’re already stabilizing…how?”

This man was one tough son of a bitch, you thought as you began to clean the wound. He jerked subconsciously and you cooed, “Now we’ll have none of that…,” you fiddled for his dog tags in his shirt, fingers brushing against cold metal and the hot skin of his chest. You pulled them out and read his full name, and date of birth, but tilted your head at the name in quotes, “Shownu…?” You let them bounce back down against his chest with a metallic clink. “You must’ve been quite popular if you got a nickname printed on your dog tags.”

You noticed how hot his skin had felt and your eyebrows suddenly furrowed in worry, “Don’t tell me…” As gently and as quickly as you could you removed his helmet and military jacket, leaving him in a plain white shirt that was startlingly white against the grayness of your surroundings. You felt his forehead and noticed he was panting, “Shit, it’s infected. We need to lay you down, buddy.” You don’t know why you were surprised, most bullet wounds got infected within a few hours and it had been roughly four since the battle initially began. Assuming he’d been here most of the time, the bacteria was already doing quite a number on the wound.

He was a lot bulkier than you initially thought, full of heavy, taut muscle, which caused you to struggle to get him into a laying position. He groaned as you plopped him down with an audible thud and felt relieved, “At least you’re still feeling some pain, that means you aren’t too far gone yet.“ 

You needed to get his leg above his heart and looked around you for anything to prop his leg up with. You saw the forgotten pack of some soldier, it would work perfectly. You dragged the heavy pack over and diligently worked to lift his leg and slide the bag under without causing too much discomfort. The trickiest thing to do now was clean the area around the wound and keep it all as sanitary as possible. You wish he was still conscious so you could possibly find a way to get him back to your home, but seeing as he was unconscious just from pain and blood loss, there was no chance he’d be moving anytime soon.

Over the next few days he stabilized and the wound was fighting off infection well with the antibiotics you were siphoning him. You managed to get water down his throat, but you were worried because he hadn’t eaten anything yet. You stayed by his side and watched him carefully, only sleeping and bathing when you absolutely needed to. You don’t know why Shownu seemed so special to you, but you had the feeling your mother would want this, so you remained.


You had been laying half asleep next to him when he suddenly started awake with a loud gasp like a man saved from drowning. He looked around with wild eyes finally finding your scrawny form next to his. He attempted to move and groaned at the pain that followed. You raised your hands in an attempt to calm him, “Hey, take it easy. I’m not here to hurt you, my name is ______." 

He didn’t seem to relax at all, his eyes darting around trying to take in his surroundings, "What-…How-?”

You gently pushed him down by his chest, talking soothingly and methodically, “I found you after the fighting had died down when I was scavenging for supplies.” You saw his eyes soften and his body relax, “I’ve been taking care of your wound, you’ve been unconscious for almost five days.”

He raised a hand and passed it through his hair, his breathing shaky, “I should be dead.” His eyes were full of disbelief as he took in his surroundings. You could tell he wasn’t fully convinced yet that he was safe.

“I’m not going to lie,” you reached for a water canteen, unscrewing the cap, “You should be. I don’t even know how you managed to hang on for so long. But you’re stable now, don’t worry,” you pressed the canteen to his chapped lips, “Here, drink. You need your fluids.”

He gingerly sipped from the bottle, his big hand molding over yours as he drained it in mere seconds after realizing his thirst. He looked you over, taking in your tattered, dirty rags you used for a tunic dress of sorts and your dirty brown feet. Regardless of your current appearance, he saw past the grime and took in the soft features that were stained with the harshness of war, the eyes that looked so boldly into his. If anything, he might consider you a guardian angel.

He cleared his throat, it was hoarse from disuse, “I thought this town was abandoned.”

You were removing his old bandages, your voice light, “It was, except for me.”

His interest was piqued, “Why stay?”

You smiled wryly to yourself, “I can’t seem to let go. Really though, I’m just too stubborn,” you squinted up at the clouds, the sun was uncharacteristically bright today, “Plus the other towns aren’t too friendly to outsiders. They’re afraid of spies and apparently I look like one.” You gestured to yourself with another smile, and saw his confusion and quickly added, “It’s not that bad though, I like being alone.”

He gulped, eyes scanning your face and wondering if he was just hallucinating, “Thank you for saving my life. I’m Sh-”

“Shownu,” you grinned, glancing down to his dog tags that lay on his broad chest. He gave a small smile and you were struck by how much light was in it, his eyes crinkling sweetly. A surprising feature for such a stoic face. You felt almost entranced by the warmth he put off, even to a stranger like you.

“What did you say your name was again?”

You smiled, your face flushing as you felt something kindling in your stomach, “I’m ______.”


It had been a few weeks since you first found Shownu close to death in an alley way. A few days after he woke up, you managed to salvage pieces of wood to construct a homemade crutch that could hold his weight. You remember feeling so anxious as you watched the sweat pour off him as he struggled to not put his full weight on you. He didn’t complain at all though, making your heart swell at his braveness. You didn’t realize it then, but he was beginning to chip away at your heart slowly but surely.

Shownu now stayed in your sad excuse for a house with you, his recovery going well. You only feared that the damage to the muscle and tissue around his thigh would impair his walking because he still was unable to walk around without assistance.

The two of you mostly spent long nights around a small cooking fire in your backyard, digging into cans of beans. You talked for hours on end, Shownu telling you about his life before the war and the strains of boot camp, how much he missed his parents. You listened with great interest, having not paid much attention to the war for a while now only out of spite.

“You know, I always thought all soldiers were the same, enemy or friendly,” you admitted one night. “That they only caused destruction and didn’t care for the damage they were causing others or their surroundings, their homes.” You looked wistfully down into the town. Your house was perched high on top of a hill, giving a once beautiful view of the place.

To your surprise he nodded in agreement, “You’re pretty much right. But I can tell you there are some who really do want to help, to protect.” He gave a wry smile, sadness leaking into his voice, “But most of the good men are the ones who die first.” He thought of Minhyuk and his warmth, how he always attempted to ease everyone’s worries.

You in turn told him of your life before your small town was hit by enemy forces and turned into a battleground. You told him of your mother and her selflessness, how you even had a fiance who died in the first attack protecting her. You remember crying in front of him for the first time in almost a year, built up emotions spilling out of you as you babbled and babbled on. Shownu held you, his big arms wrapping your frame into his chest and whispering softly how brave you were, that you weren’t alone anymore. Tears leaking into a shirt you had given him that your fiance once wore. So much for saying you liked being alone. You realized you craved companionship after all this time, and Shownu gave all his time to you.

It was one of those nights again, you sat huddled into Shownu’s side, his large presence comforting. The fire crackled almost cheerfully as you stared into the flames deep in thought. You didn’t want to admit it, but you were falling hard for the soldier. You doubted he would ever look at a sad thing like you as more than a savior, someone who had rescued him in his time of need. But you liked to imagine that he thought of you the same way, that he was staying with you because he wanted to, not because he needed you to move around and care for him.

You thought of how you helped him bathe earlier that day before dinner, your eyes trying to stay above the torso as you blushed at his nakedness. He noticed your nervousness and smiled secretly to himself, satisfied to see you’re hidden shy personality. You took note of how content he seemed when you were with him like that, and you felt flattered that he would allow you to see him when he was most vulnerable. You never spoke when washed him, afraid that you would begin stumbling over your tongue and making a fool out of yourself in front of him. You could tell he enjoyed seeing you flustered, and it secretly made you happier than you cared to admit.

Shownu suddenly broke the silence, fingers picking at a loose thread on his pants. “They all probably think I’m dead,” he mused, looking into the red flames. “My parents probably think I’m long gone. I’m sure by now someone in my squad alerted our captain after I went down. They don’t ever really go back to check bodies, they just see who’s still with them or not.”

You felt guilt prick at you suddenly. Should you have been helping Shownu develop a plan to get back home this whole time? Had you been keeping him prisoner without realizing it? You didn’t know what to say, so you broke the question that was weighing heavy in the air, your voice feather soft, “Do you want to go home, Shownu?”

He was silent for a few moments, a habit you now knew was him piecing together his thoughts before speaking. “I don’t know anymore.”

You remained quiet and let him continue on, “I want to see my parents again, but I also don’t want to go back to a war filled place. The capital is safe, for now, but if I go back I’ll only have to be drafted again.”

You felt anger bubble up in your chest, “But why? You should be exempt because of your injury, there’s no way they would send you out again.”

He smiled endearingly down at you, his right eye crinkling just a little more than his left, “I wish it were that simple. But the military is desperate for more numbers. Before I left, they were thinking of extending the draft both up and down, meaning younger and older people could be having to fight soon as well.”

“But,” he turned to you now, taking in your features that seemed to glow, “I don’t want to leave this place.”

Your throat felt tight, as his dark eyes penetrated you, “Why?”

“Because I don’t want to leave you, _____,” his brow furrowed and he reached a hand up to cup your cheek, “I think I love you more than anything else. Through this hell that’s happening around us, I love you.”

Your hands were shaking as you processed his words, “I-.” It was all you wanted to hear and more, but why weren’t you happy?

Oh, that’s right.

Tears spilled down your cheeks and Shownu looked down at you in concern, “_____? What’s wrong?”

Your voice was barely a whisper as you stood up slowly, “You don’t actually love me.” Your shoulders shook with the effort it was taking to not sob.

Shownu’s eyes widened in confusion, he didn’t understand at all what you meant. He thought you would be happy he finally confessed to you, having bottled up his feelings since he’d gotten to know you. He believed you felt the same way as him, why were you so upset? His voice was rough, “What are you talking about? Of course I do, how could you say that?” He struggled to stand up by himself, frustration running through him as he failed to do so, wanting nothing more than to take you into his arms and embrace you like a man. He fell back onto his bottom uncomfortably, seeing you backing away like a caged animal made his heart sink.

You didn’t know what to do, help him or leave. Your heart throbbed with sadness as you let out a strangled sob and ran back into the house, tearing through the halls until you reached your room. You didn’t even bother to close the door, knowing guiltily that Shownu would be unable to follow you. You collapsed onto the pile of blankets on the floor you called your bed and wailed pitifully. You ruined it all, what was wrong with you? Why couldn’t you just except his love and have everything fall happily into place?

You buried your face into a blanket that smelled of soot and sadness, muffling your sobs as best you could. It had only been a few minutes before you heard pained grunts down the hall and you bolted upright. There was no way in hell he’d been able to stand himself up, his crutch was propped in the kitchen at the front of the house…was he walking by himself?

You heard pants and groans, hands sliding harshly against the peeling paint of the walls as he leaned against them for support. You were afraid to stand up, afraid to confirm your thoughts. So you waited the longest minute of your life, tear blurred eyes landing on the tall figure that leaned against the frame of your doorway. 

Shownu’s shoulders sagged with effort, his hands shaking as he gripped the door frame and attempted to pull himself into your room. His voice shook, but his words were laced with conviction, “______, look at me.”

You shook your head, burying your face in your hands as your body was racked with sobs, “S-stop.” Fear and concern raced through you as you thought of all the ways he could have reopened his wound. He could be bleeding out again and you were doing nothing to make sure he was okay.

He placed a hand on his chest, fingers gripping at his dog tags desperately as if to anchor himself, “I love you, ______. I would put myself through a world of pain, drag myself from hell, just to be with you.”

“You don’t love me Shownu!,” you cried out, hands swiping furiously at your eyes. “You’re  confusing gratefulness with love!" 

He looked at you in disbelief, "Is that what you think?,” he was close to you know, on the verge of collapse. “______, I am grateful, I will be forever thankful to you for saving my life. But I didn’t fall in love with you because of that. I fell in love with _______, the girl who is stronger than any soldier, who suffered in silence by herself, who fought off this war just by existing.” He fell to his knees before you, hands coming up to grip your biceps tightly, “The girl who made me feel like the man I was before this war. Who made me remember who I was. Damn it, _____, I love you!”

His hold on your arms reminded you that even when crippled and weak, he was still strong enough to hold you this securely. Your voice was barely a whisper as you croaked out, choking on your words, “God, I love you. I love you so, so much.”

Shownu jerked you into his arms then, wrapping you up as if to try and pull you into his body. You pulled away enough to look up at him, noticing a familiar haze in his eyes that you hadn’t seen in a long time, you tugged him down into your lips. 

The soldier complied happily, surprisingly soft lips melding harshly into yours. He kissed you aggressively, desperate to feel as much of you as he could. You felt his hands slide up your back and tangle into your hair as you tugged on his simple white shirt anxiously.

He pulled away, eyes taking in your swollen lips and glassy eyes that looked up at him adoringly. “_______…”

You kissed up his jaw, nosing your way to the soft spot behind his ear as you sucked and bit gently. You heard him sigh into your kisses and you were suddenly pushed onto your back. He attacked your lips again, taking his time to kiss you passionately. His actions were sure and he stopped only to let you tug his shirt off to reveal his broad tan chest to you, which you hungrily attached your lips to. He let you mark his chest and collarbones, fingers softly stroking your shoulders as your hands wrapped around his neck. Compared to Shownu, your lips moved quickly and feverishly while his moved slowly but surely. 

He pulled himself out of your reach, making you whine softly. He smiled at this, and tucked your hair behind your ear as he whispered, “Let me show you just how much you mean to me, ______.”

You nodded and his fingers touched the tattered hem of your rag dress. Heat crept to your core as you thanked your past self for having ran out of underwear. The thin sheet you had turned into clothing was the only barrier between him and you. His touch was hot on the cold skin of your thigh and you shivered at the contrast. 

He gazed down at you seriously, his eyes hard and full of passion, “Let me make love to you.”

You blushed, having never heard those words spoken out loud to you before. A small embarrassed smile crept across your face and you laid a hand across your mouth to cover it from the heat of his gaze. You could only nod in response, afraid that you would stumble over your tongue trying to find the right thing to say back.

His fingers were quick to remove your sad excuse for clothing, face suddenly heating up as he regarded your nakedness, “You’re so beautiful.” He let his hands trail down your ribs and into the graceful curve of your hips, nails leaving light red marks. He looked down at you sheepishly, “I want to feel you.” He gestured to his pants and you realized he would need help removing them without causing himself pain. 

You sat up with a smile, moving to the side so he could lay down where you were, “Lay down.”

He settled himself back and watched you with hooded eyes as you carefully unbuttoned his pants and slid them down his legs. He couldn’t help but feel himself grow hard at the sight of you between his legs, tongue darting out to lick your lips as you helped him undress. You slid his army boots and socks off as well, throwing them carelessly behind you, causing a smile to rise to his lips. Shownu was in nothing but his underwear now and you gulped at the prominent outline of his member that was pressed against the fabric. He saw your hesitance and gently gripped your hand, bringing it down to his member and moving your hand against him. He groaned as his much larger hand covered your own and you shivered at the feel of his member twitching below you. He massaged his member with your hand and let out a long groan of satisfaction as his length strained against the tight fabric of his underwear.

You suddenly felt bold and reached up to the waistband of his briefs, fingers teasingly tracing his hips before sliding the last bit of fabric down and off his legs. You sat back on your heels and took in his body with a gasp. Tan, rippling muscle that made you feel safe just by looking at it, his chest heaving with want to touch you, and his member twitching at the thought of being inside of you.

You crawled toward him and he rolled you over, ignoring the pain that shot through his leg as he caged you into his arms below him. You looked up at him in concern, “Are you okay? Does it hurt?” He didn’t respond, but kissed the tops of your breasts tenderly, sucking briefly on the skin so that a dark pink mark sat just above your heart. You gasped when you suddenly felt his hand cup your core, a finger sliding languidly into you as you arched into his touch. 

“More,” you mewled weakly, rolling your hips into his fingers. 

He rubbed your clit, generously complying to your demands as pleasure shot through your stomach. He gave a small crooked smile, watching as you twisted beneath him and fucked back into his fingers, “So needy.”

You surprised him when you reached down and took hold of his length, pumping him to the same rhythm as his fingers sliding in and out of you. He gave a small groan and rocked into your hand, his head falling into the crook of your neck as your bodies moved in synchronization. Everywhere his bare skin touched yours made your heart race, you hadn’t had this much skin on skin contact in so long. You felt incredibly affected by every little thing he did, whether it was his moans or the feeling of his chest brushing against your perked nipples. 

Shownu’s voice shook as he retracted his fingers from your core and stilled your hand on his cock, “P-please, I need you.”

In response you hooked your legs around his leg and pulled him close enough to feel his member brush your wet folds. He gave a soft moan, taking hold of his cock and pushing into you carefully. His movements were sure as he began to rock into you slowly, his eyes shut in ecstasy as your walls sucked him in tightly. 

To your surprise he came down and embraced you, his arms sliding around you, one of his hands cupping your head and tangling in your hair. You wrapped your arms around him as well, his thrusts increasing in speed as you moved in tandem with him. He pressed butterfly kisses to your face, letting his lips trace over your skin lazily as he lost himself in the feeling of you. Your fingers scratched distinct red lines down his broad back, a moan rising in your throat as the snapping of his hips suddenly became much rougher. His power took you by surprise, your body easily manipulated by the lightest of touches.
He brought his lips to yours as he cradled your head, tongue dancing with yours as his high approached. He let out audible pants, his hips crushing into you at a neck break speed. He suddenly stilled with a shudder, filling you with his seed as he road his high out.

Barely taking time to bask in his afterglow, Shownu slipped out of you and snaked his way down your body. His lips attached to your clit, teeth teasing your sensitive bundle as he maintained eye contact with you. Your back arched as he pumped three fingers into your slickness, his voice as soft as velvet to your ears, “Come for me, _____. I want to see you come for me.”

His fingers quickened and his mouth didn’t stop working on your clit, causing you to cry out as your orgasm approached. Seeing him work at your soaked core in between your legs sent you over the edge and you came with a silent scream, head thrown to the side as the feeling washed over you. Shownu continued to pleasure you, allowing you to follow ride out your high for as long as possible.

When you finally came down, your body heaving from loss of breath, he let his lips drag up your body until he met yous. He kissed you soothingly, his arms bringing you to lay on his chest as he pulled you on top of him. You brought one of your well used sheets with you, covering your bodies from the night’s chill.

He smiled contently up at you from where you lay propped up on his chest, “I love you.”

You blushed happily, the dusty rose color of after love making a beautiful contrast to the plainness of your room. You pecked his swollen lips, “I love you more.”

You suddenly had a thought, settling into his arms, “If you want to go find your parents, it’s okay.”

He began to protest, but you quickly shushed him and grinned, “You’ll just have to take me with you.”

Shownu’s eyes crinkled as he smiled, chuckling at your demand. “You’re definitely not going anywhere _____, not without me at least.”

The two of you discussed plans for the after the war, not really caring that much for the future though because what mattered was now. Life was too unpredictable, which could be good or bad. It’s just what you happen to make of it; like turning the life of a near dead soldier upside down and consequently falling in love with him at the same time. 

With the arrival of Jesus, the Messiah, that fateful dilemma is resolved. Those who enter into Christ’s being-here-for-us no longer have to live under a continuous, low-lying black cloud. A new power is in operation. The Spirit of life in Christ, like a strong wind, has magnificently cleared the air, freeing you from a fated lifetime of brutal tyranny at the hands of sin and death.-Romans 8:1-2 MSG
Expecto Patronum

“It’s not working,” the boy says, hiding his frustration with a laugh.

“You just have to try a little harder. Come on Draco, you can do this.” She laughs along with him, flicking a piece of shiny Y/H/C hair over her shoulder.

It’s a sweltering hot day; humidity steeps the air, trapped under a low lying blanket of clouds. Thunderheads are forming in the distance. It’ll be a heavy rain when it comes, but for now, Y/N and Draco are using the deserted courtyard to practice spells.

Draco can’t cast a Patronus Charm, no matter how hard he tries.

He is always so intelligent, so haughty. He is the feeling of clean white sheets on your bed, a cool metal ring on your finger, a crystalline wineglass in your hand, but today, he seems to have shattered.

He grips his wand tighter, closes his eyes for a second and says, “Expecto Patronum.”

A silver wisp, as intangible as the mist in the air or the smoke of a cigarette, so close, almost there, but not quite.

He yells out in frustration.

“Draco…” Her voice is a melody.

“What if I’m just not cut out for this, Y/N?” His voice is low, and his face is turned away, like it’s a secret he’s been keeping for awhile, a doubt that’s been festering in the back of his mind.

“The Patronus Charm? Draco—”

“No, not that… This. The Order. I turned my back on everyone— my friends, my family, my house, for what? What good am I going to do? I can’t even cast a Patronus Charm!”

“Don’t think like that, Draco. You’re a fantastic wizard, and the Order needs you. Plenty of people go their entire lives without ever being able to produce a corporeal Patronus, but you’re not going to be one of them.”

“Easy for you to say. You could do it by the time you were 16.”

She crosses her arms, narrows her eyes at the bitterness in his voice. “Don’t get snappish with me. I’m just trying to help you.”

“I know, I know… I’m sorry.”

“Maybe you’re not using a strong enough memory. Try again.”

With a nod, a breath, and a point of his wand, Draco says, with the sound of determination resonating in his voice, “Expecto Patronum!”

From his wand tip, a silver mist is emitted, and it rapidly grows into something more— in a just a second, there’s a dragon flying through the air, glowing so bright it hurts their eyes.

A yelp, a cheer, and Draco is grinning. “Y/N, do you see that? I did it!”

“I told you you could! What memory did you use?”

He turns away from the animal and faces his best friend. He looks at Y/N, sees the warmth in her eyes and the smile on her face. She is a ray of sunshine in a world that has become dark and desolate— A ray of sunshine that could knock you out with one hit. At their first meeting, Y/N, clumsy as she is, yet always willing to do a dare, had fallen off the roof and broken her leg. Draco had made a smartass comment, and she’d hexed him so bad he was in the hospital wing with her for two days. Somehow, with all that time spent together, a friendship had developed.

A laugh escapes his lips. He grabs her hand, thinking back on those simple, blissful times, and says: “the day I first met you.”

Gibsons Towers, by artjom

Wow! Didn’t see that coming at all! Literaly less than 10min before that shot the sky was covered with low lying clouds and by then I wasn’t expecting any spectucular sunset. Just about the minute the sun set it cleared up and the sky exploded and the whole scene changed from grey to that warm red and orange. I was kinda buffled by the happening but luckily kept shooting :D For the techies: Blend of 3 exposures, one underexposure for the sky, one overexposure for the sea stacks and one normal exposure. All blended and post processed in the car park of the 12 Apostles Visitor Center ;)

I call it, “Indian dude with funny hat contemplates the Korean economic miracle on a rainy day.”

After I seeing my wife off at Korea City Air Terminal, I stopped by nearby Bongeunsa Temple. The rain, mist and low-lying clouds hanging over surrounding skyscrapers simply add to the otherworldly ambience.

I think this shot really sums up the city of Seoul—the tension between the traditional and modern and the spiritual and the material make the city a fascinating place to live.

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Strange Clouds Form Over Panama City Beach, Florida

A photo of mysterious cloud formations in Panama City Beach, Florida, has the weather world buzzing. Pilot JR Hott of Panhandle Helicopters snapped the spectacular shot, which shows low-lying clouds streaming ominously over high-rise buildings standing sentinel against the Gulf of Mexico. (Source)

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   When I dreamt of Alaska as a child, the visions in my head were murky, albeit awing scenes of white blankets covering the land and mountain tops hiding their peaks within low-lying clouds. I could see it all in my head, but it was a memory constructed out of someone else’s written words. I was merely borrowing the experience; it was never truly mine.
   Seeing all of those childhood dreams with my own eyes, feeling it all with my own being - climbing to the top of one of those peaks, stepping into one of those snowy blankets on a trail, breathing in so deeply the evergreen will forever remain in my lungs - has conjured an indescribable force in me, deeper than my bone and tissue, deeper than the cells carrying me through each day.
    No, the borrowing life is not for me.

One day, one rhyme- Day 1068

The fog creeps down over the hills
Like a thief in the night
Sneaking, covering all it sees,
Suffocating the light.
Mist, haze, gloom, smog, murk, brume or haar
Are just some of its names,
Low lying cloud, blanket of stealth
And more titles it claims.
The fog could harbor anything
And nobody would see,
But for this evening, thankfully,
It only harbors me.

When the tide came in, Algy moved back from the water’s edge, onto an area of soft green grass. He gazed out across the great sea loch towards the other shore, with its hills shrouded in low-lying clouds. Some distance beyond those hills lay his home in the far west, and the irises would be flowering there too now. It was surely time to set off homewards… As Algy reclined among the wildflowers in the low light of the long summer evening, he remembered a poem by Rabindranath Tagore:

The time that my journey takes is long and the way of it long.

I came out on the chariot of the first gleam of light, and pursued my
voyage through the wildernesses of worlds leaving my track on many a star and planet.

It is the most distant course that comes nearest to thyself,
and that training is the most intricate which leads to the utter simplicity of a tune.

The traveler has to knock at every alien door to come to his own,
and one has to wander through all the outer worlds to reach the innermost shrine at the end.

My eyes strayed far and wide before I shut them and said “Here art thou!”

The question and the cry “Oh, where?” melt into tears of a thousand
streams and deluge the world with the flood of the assurance “I am!”

[Algy is quoting the poem Journey Home by the late 19th/early 20th century Indian poet Rabindranath Tagore.]

Crybaby

It doesn’t rain here like it rains there, no.
July and monsoon, the low-lying clouds
is an armory. Water rages rather than seep
to a stream of liquefied needles, knives,
silver against silver.

And you do not get me love when I say it,
how when it rains, there’s a sea in the skies
raring to dump its contents from inside its slit
belly, neither when I tell you the first glimpse
of a nimbus is an omen of a disaster.

It doesn’t rain here like it rains there, no.
What you know of rain is languid drops,
falling almost as if in afterthought and trickles
on glass window. And I know I’ve always cried
the hardest between us two.