#everybody lives a vaguely average life au

[jymic]

Thought this au to life at 3am on finals days. And drew it at 3am orz

[rmnamjoons]

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!

I.

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.

V.

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.”

X.

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.

[anonymoushybr1dity]

i have,, a big ol god/deity au for the dream smp,, but i have no plot based ideas yet,,, i wanna get this idea out Somehow so i am making a snazzy tumblr post about some stuff i enjoy from it smile

- there are four different status levels someone can have in this au: gods, who are the top of the top, immortals with complete control over and abilities pertaining to 1-3 traits; Beings (capital B), who are immortal as well, but are more like the figureheads of certain traits, rather than controlling them. still powerful, but less so than gods; immortals, who are people gods or beings liked enough to decide to keep by their sides for their endless journeys; and then everybody else who just kinda runs around and lives their mortal life. just ur average joe

- gods/Beings/immortals (we’ll just group em together as gods for now) usually have very ironic powers. for example, tommy is both the god of chaos and discipline, ranboo is a Being of memories, new beginnings, and sides, tubbo is god of illusions and power, etc etc. it’s very unfortunate lol

- completely unintentional, but twitch prime and channel membership are a part of this au? to the point where the majority of my structuring centers around them lmao,, they are twin gods of prosperity and punishment, people tend to say “prime is prosperity, channel is punishment” but they equally share power of the titles (prime subs - tos, channel members - demonitization)

- dreamXD and The Blood God are in the au as well :] dreamXD is the Being of control and The Blood God is.... u guessed it.......... blood. and also voices. it was originally meant in their power as “giving voice to the people” in the form of violence, but it manifested itself as the years went on as Chat

- the original point of me making this au was to make tommy and ranboo gods... it spiraled out of hand Very Fast as you can see

- charlie slimecicle is an immortal!! ppl tend to leave him offerings and build temples in his name because he’s been around for That Long, but he’s just immortal, not a god or Being. (they think he’s god of strife and joy)

- since foolish is canonically a god (??? HELLO) he’s one in this au as well,,,,, even tho i don’t anything about him pensive emoji fist emoji

- bbh is also a Being... he is adoration and fear (hello eggpire community)

- there are four people on the smp who follow specific gods- everyone else is just ur basic twitch prime or channel membership follower. since specific followers are very uncommon nowadays, they’re usually given some sort of ability, and those abilities are usually op if they leave sacrifices. these four are:   - dream, follower of Chaos and Control. leaves sacrifices for Control, given admin abilities in return.   - techno, follower of Blood. leaves sacrifices for Blood, given immortality (and chat, by accident) in return.   - karl, follower of New Beginnings. no sacrifices (given time travel (and memory problems from the time travel))   - sam, follower of Illusions/Power (both aspects). no sacrifices (given perception alteration)

- dreamXD is... not a great god. none of them are, really, but dreamXD is arguably the worst. he plays heavy favorite and gives out abilities if someone so much as drops food by accident at a temple for him. he’s v obsessive and tends to lose control over himself at the slightest hint of things not going his way (irony coming out)

- i have a whole number-system list of how much each person on the server believes in twitch prime... for context of what that means, bbh is a 1.5/4, tommy is a 4/4, fundy is a 4/4, and wilbur was previously a 3/4, now a 0/4. each one has a reason for it (bbh streams on both platforms & is now engaged with the egg, tommy Is Literally A God, fundy was raised on it in a very prime-engrossed enviornment... remember when wilbur came back after nov 16 and said he looked god in the eyes and decided they didn’t exist?)

- tommy’s video where they made the holy lands is canon in this au, but the actual events are pretty different… they were discussing the old books about the ancient religions of prime and channel and how much (if at all) they believed in it. the bit got out of hand and tommy+tubbo proposed the idea of building a church to prime. they were doing it to make their friend happy, but dream and quackity just thought it was for the bit, so they agreed. midway through construction, prime just. descended from the heavens. and walked amongst the mortal men once again. they does not possess dream; rather, they take on a vaguely humanoid form and help them with the construction (blessing the waters that run through the fountain as well as the bell) before leaving.

- the egg is a gross byproduct of dreamXD and The Blood God that spiralled way out of control

- prime and channel are usually associated with bells :] villages will typically have communal bells which everyone is free to use for either god. it’s more common to see a bell that’s specifically dedicated to channel than it is to see one specifically dedicated to prime because the followers of channel are typically less lenient, but it’s far more common to see one dedicated to both of them than either of those options.

- philza got his wings from prime in this au. he no longer has his wings on the smp. interpret that as you wish.

- dream (c!dream, remember, this is an au) is vewy religious in this au. like. excessively so. that’s why he’s so op, why he has access to creative, why he somehow has the time and ability and resources to build shit like his vault or the obsidian walls. he obsesses over Control and Control obsesses over him in return. The other Gods are getting wary.

- on a more lighthearted note, slime and twitch prime are homies. they canonically meet for brunch every other month :]

//

i’ll add onto this post as i go along and have more things!! so far, though, this is all the important stuff i figured i’d spit out onto here lmao. i have a couple of drabbles written up, but since they’re v short, i’ll probably post them here (and make up a tag head in hands) sometime in the future rather than on ao3!!  hope u enjoyed if u read this far <3 suprise hydration check go drink some water!!!

[atamascolily]

more stuff from the time-based fic meme

august: are any of your fics associated with certain genres/artists/songs/etc?

I only recently got into it, but it turns out I love writing short fics based on/inspired by songs! I have a lot of WIPs, but Actually Posted Fics include Knight Moves and Predictions, both of which are Suzanne Vega songs.

I also have a Star Wars legends modern AU series of short fics based on songs by the band Carbon Leaf called life less ordinary. Currently two have been posted:

-so I can tempo me to your time ("On Any Given Day") -we meet the people that change our lives ("Blue Ridge Laughing")

I also wrote "The Wreck of the Katana Fleet", which is a pastiche of the "The Wreck of the Edmund Fitzgerald" by Gordon Lightfoot.

friday: most self-indulgent fic you have ever posted?

The Ending I Wanted , which is a Harry Potter-type epilogue to the Adventures of Sinbad that is exactly what it says on the tin. It's so fluffy and sentimental and trope-y and I absolutely love it, especially since the show ended before we got any kind of real resolution or closure. No regrets!

(Also, it was way easier to write this scene as a one-shot then at the end of an entirely season's worth of material.)

 saturday: what gets you excited whilst writing?

Imagining the reactions of my readers--or sometimes the reactions of one very specific person--always gets me pumped.

A particularly clever juxtaposition or turn of phrase makes ME very happy, but it's always more fun when I can finally share it with people.  

october: name the darkest or angstiest fic you have written and/or posted?

if I could turn back time, a Clannad x Puella Magi Madoka Magica crossover that manages to take the angstiest bits of two already angst-ridden canons and run with it. It opens with a man making a deal with the devil to save his dead wife, and then just spirals into endless rounds of Bad Timelines where everybody keeps dying in horrific ways, and ends with... the vague hope of doing better on yet another round.

I love this fic because Clannad makes so much more sense when you imagine it as a dark magical girl show told from the clueless love interest's perspective--and the time travel/reset points mirror the original visual novel format!!

minutes: how long does it normally take you to complete a fic?

Depends on the fic! Some fics I can write very quickly, some fics take years. Obviously, longer fics take longer to write, but there have been some short fics that have stumped me for YEARS until I figured out what I wanted to do with it. Of the two situations, I prefer the “I know what I’m gonna do, it’s just gonna take a while to do it” vs. “I have absolutely no idea what I’m doing”.

Generally, in an average month I can bang out one 10K chapter of a plot- and character-heavy longfic, plus a handful of short fics as a palate-cleanser. Obviously, this is dependent on everything going well in my life and in the larger world, not to mention the weather.  

yesterday: favourite way to write angst?

My rule of thumb is always to think, "Okay, what do I have to do to make this WORSE?" and go from there.

It turns out that making characters happy before you deprive them of everything--especially if the reader knows what's coming--is always a good strategy to ratchet up the pain quotient.

november: do you have any rituals or requirements for getting in the mood for writing?

OPENING THE DAMN DOCUMENT.

That's the hardest part, every time.

[jasperwhitcock]

04. Accidents

yes, the rumors are true. literally there are no rumors nobody is talking about this a month and a half later, i have finally updated my bella as a vampire and edward as a human fanfic inspired by an au that @bellasredchevy​ posted. you can read the new chapter on AO3 or here. i post updates on AO3 or on tumblr using the #equinoxjw tag.

me to kae like two months ago when i started writing this fanfic: i don't want the plot to follow exactly along with smeyer also me: *copy and pastes midnight sun*

i promise i'll deviate eventually hehe leave me alone <3

It may have been an overabundance of caution, but I decided to hunt again that night once my family had coupled off into their perfectly matched pairs, leaving me to be the odd one out again. I had no desire to be an audience to whatever acts occurred when their bedroom doors locked.

Prior to this, I spent some time in Carlisle’s study along with Jasper. We worked in silence for the majority of our few hours together; Jasper quietly organized some of our recent identity paperwork, making preparations for the next set of documents we would require in a few years, Carlisle read through a very thick medical textbook for research, and though it was months too early, I was distracting myself by preparing to file our family’s taxes for the last year.

Our finances had been in something of disarray since Christmas anyways. Of course, the mind-boggling accumulation of wealth our coven possessed never necessitated a budget, but we still ensured to balance the checkbook to keep account of our transactions. The holidays were always an ostentatious occasion in our household. We tried to make the most out of days deemed special as means to have something to look forward to in the years that began to blend together as our endless amount of time passed.

Other than Carlisle and Esme’s gifts, it was typically a tie between Alice and Emmett concerning who spent the most on presents. Whereas Alice was flamboyant in her gifting – there was hardly a holiday season where hundreds of designer label bags didn’t appear beneath the Christmas tree – Emmett was mischievous. Although he always included something we’d actually enjoy, he managed to come up with something entirely nonorthodox year after year. There was a year where for Hanukkah, he had presented me with a deed to a piece of land each day, and by the eighth day, I was the owner of a very small country.

Carlisle and Esme made sizable donations in our names every year to charities of our choice. It may have been too on the nose of me, but I always opted for something that’d impact children’s reading education. There were many small libraries across the world named after both my immortal and mortal parents.

Just as my jaw nearly dropped upon discovering the amount Emmett had spent this past year on Christmas alone, I had been interrupted by my brother.

“Bella,” Jasper hesitantly spoke to capture my attention.

The look in Carlisle’s eyes as they flickered up from his book briefly and back to the page he’d been reading instantly made me feel suspicious. I knew Jazz would immediately detect as much.

“Yes?” I’d answered, reserved.

“We are always ready to move on at a moment’s notice, of course,” he’d begun, his tone cautious as he sampled the emotional climate. “However, I thought it might be best if we addressed how you’re feeling. Rather, we wanted to know more about your feelings and thoughts on the current situation.”

“Uh, you best of anybody understand how I’m feeling. What else is there for me to say? What are you getting at, Jazz?” I’d demanded, my focus no longer on the paperwork before me.

“I just thought that while we make preparations for additional documents for the future, we should ask if you’ve given any thought to leaving early...as in leaving now.”

“You want me to leave!?” I had almost shrieked, my voice rising a few octaves. Just as the shock had run through me, it’d been instantly sedated by my brother.

“Of course not, Bella,” Carlisle assured, closing the textbook atop his ancient mahogany desk. “It was only a question. We’d be horribly unhappy – Esme, especially – to not have you with us. And if you wanted us to move along with you, we would do so.”

“It was merely something for you to consider. A precaution. We wondered if perhaps providing you with the option might be beneficial bearing in mind how stubborn you are,” Jasper expressed, his words careful and his eyes vigilant.

I had been shocked at what I was hearing. My eyes narrowed.

“Me, stubborn? My tenacity is no match for Rosalie.” My adopted father had laughed in the middle of my response. “Really, I don’t understand where this is coming from.”

“Bella, we don’t wish for you to leave us,” Carlisle had guaranteed me again. “Nor do we wish to move on from Forks so soon. Naturally, neither must happen. It is entirely your decision, and we would all support you. Needless to say, but I have complete faith in you. However, I don’t want for you to feel as though you cannot leave if this is too difficult. There is nothing to prove to any of us, nothing worth proving. Nothing worth endangering the boy. The boy will be gone in a year or two. So if it is the better option, I wanted to offer the idea for your consideration.”

Jasper’s eyes had scrutinized my expression as he read the emotions, searching for some facial indication to explain what I’d felt. I couldn’t provide an explanation even if I’d tried. The idea of leaving emptied me, making me feel worn and hollow.

“It was just a suggestion, Bella,” Jasper had repeated upon experiencing my inexplicable hurt secondhand, offering a tiny smile to soothe me.

I’d absolutely miss my family. But that didn’t seem reason sufficient enough to match the level of anxiety and sadness that accompanied the idea of leaving Forks.

The boy would be gone in a year or two.

Carlisle’s words were just along the line of thoughts I’d had a week ago here in this forest.

I again felt bewildering sorrow for the life the boy would live without me. Rather, the life the boy would live that I could never live.

As I emptied another deer of its life source, I wondered about the question Carlisle had asked when I insisted upon staying.

“What holds you here?”

How could I explain to them what I couldn’t explain to myself?

Carlisle and Jasper had been right to suggest I leave. What was another two years in this small town to me in this endless life? It was merely a blink of the eye, and yet the fact made me feel deeper in desperation to remain here. So little time left to unravel the mystery of the weird bronze-haired boy’s pervasive insight...

But the mystery was not of the same value as the boy’s life. That was true. Edward, no matter how smug and obnoxious, deserved the right to continue on without my presence beside him as a looming threat. I could never forgive myself if in my pride, my stubbornness, I hurt him.

There couldn’t be that much behind him anyways. I’d figure him out in less than a week and resume my previous boredom.

Or at least I would have, had he not been the one human whose blood was temptation enough to consider leaving Forks.

It was the right decision to make, and yet, there was that incomprehensible woe inside me again.

I’d have to say goodbye today. Not only to my family but to the boy too.

I didn’t have to leave Forks, but staying at home for two years avoiding Edward seemed like a depressing waste of time. I could travel or spend some time in Denali.

It was melancholic to look at the forestry surrounding me, knowing now I’d be leaving it behind. By the time the boy graduated, it might be time for our family to move on.

I would miss Forks and its shrouding cover of clouds.

As a human, I’d hated the rain and snow, the gloom and the grey.

As a vampire, the rainfall was freedom–a promise of a day not spent blanketed in darkness. The snow was a beautiful romanticization of that freedom. Once the threats of snow had been removed thanks to the lithe grace that corrected my above average human clumsiness, I could now appreciate the beauty of the water droplets crystallizing in the air, seeing every unique shape of the flakes as they fluttered softly down in an effortless dance.

Today, the snow was stiffened after having refrozen. The scenery was enveloped in ice, the trees and grass and rocks sparkling with glossy glass.

Yes, I would truly miss it.

How many times had I sat on this stone in the past week, so pensive and desolate, as I stared out at the icy river? Last time, I cared little to watch the hidden sunrise beside Esme because of how indifferent I’d become. Now, though I could recall the image perfectly, I regretted not cherishing the moment.

At least my family would no longer have to be an audience to my ineffectual stoicism. That was something of a positive.

A nimble whisper of tiny feet against the glazed over blades of grass made my head flick upwards in time to see Alice appear beside me as if she’d been sitting there all along. Tucked in her hands, she carried two neatly folded stacks of dark fabric.

“One last day?” She asked, attempting to smile for me, though her dark eyes and bleak tone betrayed her.

“Of course you’d see the second I decided. I didn’t even think about that,” I laughed once without real amusement.

“Yeah, you’re very off recently,” Alice gently nudged me, her smiling taking on more authenticity. “Your future’s all blurry and vague. I can’t make much sense of it. I can’t even see where you’re going.”

“I don’t know where I’m going yet,” I shrugged, growing more glum by the second.

“You know Jazz and I will come with you if you want,” she offered, freeing one of her hands to grab mine, gently squeezing my palm.

“Jazz is the one who suggested I go.”

Alice snarled, a hiss escaping her teeth. “I heard.”

“He was right. And I know you’d come, I know all of you would. But I don’t want to uproot everybody, and it’s not that long anyways.”

Her pixie face contemplated for a fraction of a second, looking as if she wanted to argue, but she then sighed, giving in. Her lips twisted into a pout.

“I’ll miss you.”

“I’ll miss you too,” I carefully fixed an unconvincing smile onto my face.

My sister rolled her eyes before pulling me into a hug.

“Get dressed. You can tell the others when you’re ready.”

Alice stood up, kissed the top of my head, and darted off to the house.

I tugged the clothes on my body without thinking much about what they looked like, crumpling the old clothes I’d worn into a ball.

On the way to school, we sat in silence. Though Jasper could sense the sadness emanating from Alice and I, she made good on allowing me to be the one to tell them. I could always trust Alice.

Once we’d arrived at school, my eyes searched for the growing familiarity of a pair of sage eyes. The last time we’d been in this parking lot, I’d begun to feel my spirit lifting again. It seemed funny that it was once again crashing down like the first day we had crossed paths.

Today would be the last time I’d see him.

I didn’t know how to feel about the fact. It seemed maybe sorrow was the emotion that’d define my entire morning.

The others left for their classes, but Alice remained by my side as I waited, our backs leaned against Rosalie’s day car.

I tried to avoid Alice’s doll-like eyes as she gave me somber, pleading glances, instead listening for the quiet hum of Edward’s car as it approached the Forks High School parking lot.

It was easy to detect. The majority of students at the school drove older, used cars passed down from parents and grandparents with noisier engines.

I braced for his arrival as the wheels turned onto the slick, icy pavement. I finally gave in to peeking at my sister’s face, but she no longer looked at me with devastation. Instead, her eyes glazed over in search of the future.

I wondered if she was watching my indecisiveness as I grappled with what to say. I knew this attachment to saying goodbye to the boy was bizarre. I didn’t owe him an explanation, but something in me wanted closure with the person who was the reason for my leaving Forks.

I comforted myself by thinking that of course in this neverending span of time I lived, any minute connection was of interest to me – just something to find absorption in. This odd relationship of unwilling predator and over-perceptive prey was just another intrusive thought to occupy my time.

His shiny black car rolled into view as he expertly parked a few spots diagonal from Rosalie’s car, cutting the engine swiftly. He seemed to be a confident driver. How old was he? Seventeen? Eighteen? He couldn’t have been driving for more than three to five years, but I was relieved he seemed far more trustworthy behind the wheel than some of the other students’ reckless driving. It was no wonder we’d had so many assemblies preaching responsible, defensive driving with the way these teenagers ineptly sped around the town. My human father had often complained about the kids’ injudicious carelessness around here.

I was somewhat pleased because with all of my effort to keep this boy alive so far, it’d be a true shame for his own thoughtlessness to lead to an untimely death.

He stepped out of the driver seat, combing a hand through his bronze hair that was striking today in contrast to the cloudy, grey sky and the thick, black fitted sweater he was wearing.

“Hey, Edward!” Sara, the sandy-haired girl from biology who had taken a surprising dislike to me, called from a group of girls for his attention.

He looked in the direction of her voice, offering a wave which resulted in giggles.

I scoffed, once again seeing humor in the absurdity of the effect he had on the student body. Did they not find any annoyance in the grating edge of self-importance that coated his boyish charm? Humans were so unperceptive. Well, I could grudgingly think of one exception.

As I watched him, peripherally I could see the confusion knitting Alice’s thin eyebrows together at my smirk in response to the exchange. The ridiculousness made me grin wider. It seemed a safe bet to say I’d lost my mind, just as my siblings probably suspected behind my back. Well, they wouldn’t have to witness my deepening insanity any longer.

Rather than give in to the sadness that ebbed at the edges of my thoughts, watching the boy this one last time was a rush of dopamine, so I allowed myself this one moment of fun.

It seemed somehow we both could sense when one was watching the other, because as I let out a laugh amongst my own inner turmoil and chaos, the boy looked over, his pretty green eyes meeting mine.

They were alight, brilliant, and amused, asking to understand the joke. His strong face of angular features that garnered the fan club of silly little girls seemed pleased to find my attention on him, to no surprise of mine. Of course his ego would be stroked. I laughed again, a twinkling sound that distracted a part of my mind as the supernatural lure of the noise reminded me once again of the differences between us. He was human, and I was something completely other than that.

He leaned down to open the door to the backseat and reach into the car, pulling out the same leather-bound journal I’d seen him carry before, his eyes never breaking our gaze. Edward raised an eyebrow, smug as ever, his expression a clear invitation for me to approach him.

Just as my unfeasibly fast brain began to consider the words I’d say and the pain that’d come with saying them and the proximity to the boy, three things happened instantaneously.

First, I’d nearly forgotten about my sister before Alice’s tiny hand gripped onto my arm violently, her grasp unbreakably steel.

“Bella!” She hissed, the words a cry of warning as horrified air whooshed out of her lips in a gasp.

Second, I’d grown frigid as the implication of what she might have seen hit me until the shrill squealing of a van rounding the corner onto the parking lot at a negligent speed sent another shock through me. The angle the van’s tires hit the ice at was sending the large vehicle skidding, spinning in an unstoppable trajectory that would result in the destruction of the sleek, black car, the very car Edward still leaned into as his eyes finally left my face to discover the source of the noise.

It was only seconds before the van would crush him – crush and mangle his body to death.

Third, bent over as he was still straightening up from his reach into the backseat, his bewildered sage eyes flickered between the large van inevitably barreling towards him and my terror-filled face.

It was unacceptable. Idiotic. Careless. Moronic. Irresponsible and deeply selfish. But without another thought, I threw myself across the parking lot between the van and the boy.

Lifting Edward like a ragdoll, cradling his lanky legs to his chest, I launched us through the open door of the backseat just as the van made impact with his car, slamming the door shut into my back, the metal pressing and molding into the shape of my body with a groan as the motion sent us forward to crash into the car parked two spaces beside Edward’s, the glass of the window fracturing into thousands of glistening shards that I desperately shrouded him from.

“Holy! Fucking! Shit!” I cried out as I kicked open the door on the opposite side, sending it flying off its hinges into the car we were about to collide with beside us, throwing us flying out through the opening before we could be sandwiched in the wreckage, all the while begging to god or any deity that the glass of the imploding windows hadn’t reached any part of Edward’s skin to expose the blood beneath. Now was not the time to test my self control any further.

I’d crashed us into the pavement, carefully holding Edward beneath me. The warmth of his entire body pressed into mine made me painfully aware of how it burned my skin. One of my hands supported his head while the other held all of my weight off of him, and I was terrified of his fragility. Would my actions alone be what killed him? To my consolation, amongst the cacophony, I could hear the thunderous beat of his heart. Once I’d yanked him through the car, his legs had flown out wildly, stretching out again.

The van alongwith Edward’s car continued to bend and shriek as they warped into new grotesque shapes, smashing into the other car parked a space away from Edward, the friction finally slowing the accident to a stop.

The rest of the glass splintered off in a grating, violent shatter. My hand fluttered to block the stray pieces threatening to hit the boy beneath me, sending the fragments ricocheting back into the frame of the vehicles, denting the metal further like microscopic bullets.

Only seconds had passed, and I’d moved too fast for anyone to have detected any of my movements, but as I finally looked down severely into the eyes of the boy below me, as part of my brain registered immediate relief that he seemed to be unharmed by both myself and the wreckage, the other part of my brain registered the wide, astounded viridescent bewilderment of someone who’d seen everything.

I’d cursed again through my teeth, horrified with my actions, as the students witnessing the accident began to scream in panic. My forehead puckered as my eyebrows shoved together in torment.

What had I done? The risk I’d compromised my family with now was nothing in comparison to the exposure that’d have threatened us had I just murdered Edward Masen the very first day I’d seen him. The risk I’d placed Edward in as he stared wildly at my face beneath me was realer than it had ever been as his breath, warm and sweet, enticed me even without my inhaling his scent. The risk I’d placed myself in had never been greater as, though he looked unmaimed, my actions could have potentially damaged him far more than the van would have, which would only result in decades of deep self loathing for the harm I’d have inflicted.

The panicking footsteps clumsily sliding along the ice towards us meant we only had seconds before the other students discovered me here. Had they witnessed my materialization and supernatural maneuvers as well as Edward may have?

Somehow, it didn’t feel as important as my desperation that the boy beneath me was truly okay.

I knew my face betrayed my agony, so with great effort, I softened my features, though the pucker between my eyebrows remained.

Fiercely, I peered into the intense shock of his pretty face only inches from mine surrounded by a canopy of my long, dark hair.

“Edward,” I asked critically, my voice almost pleading. “Are you alright?”

“Never better,” he responded, though he blinked rapidly, disoriented from the trauma of the past minute.

The solace in hearing the sound of his voice was almost dizzying, and a manic, hysteric giggle escaped from my lips as I basked in the intoxifying relief at his sarcasm. Reluctantly, I sucked in air through my teeth. The scent of his blood was just as dizzying, if not more so, on my tongue, but I embraced the burning pain almost blithely. The blood wasn’t fresh, so it seemed I’d managed to protect him successfully, but whether or not it had been as thorough as I hoped, I’d need Carlisle to examine him internally for damage.

“Okay,” I breathed out. “I’m going to move away from you now. Stay still, and be very careful.”

Gently with as much care as I could, I laid his head down along the concrete, and lifted my body from shielding him. I scooted away, distancing myself from him, the glass clinking against the other pieces on the ground beneath me as I moved to lean against the misshapen trunk of his car.

“How-?” Edward began to prop himself up on his elbow.

“Edward,” I cautioned him sharply, cutting off the question that sobered my internal celebration at his well being.

Slowly – in effort to re-immerse myself into something more believably human – I crawled back over to where he laid, and softly pushed his upper body back onto the frozen ground.

“I said stay still,” I snapped, assertively but delicately grabbing his face to force his head to rest against the pavement. My fingertips were alight at the touch as if they’d been set on fire. I moved again, this time positioning myself to sit on the heels of my feet with my hands resting on my knees behind his body in case he made any effort to disobey again.

“How’d you get here so fast?” His chin tilted upwards to look at my face, his upside down expression revealing intense green eyes that bore into mine, searching intently for answers.

Something about our positioning reminded me of Mary Jane Watson and Spiderman. Except Spiderman never saved Mary Jane in favor of preserving her from a worse death – a death he’d have inflicted on her himself – had her blood been exposed. We were far more akin to Spiderman and Gwen Stacy – but without the romance – because it seemed I’d never stop shouldering more responsibility to keep him alive. If he were to die, it’d be my fault.

“I was right beside you, Edward,” I lied as a scowl pulled the corners of my lips down, severely examining his expression. I began to feel the anxiety of the risk I’d posed to my family.

“Don’t lie to me.” His face grew just as bitter and severe, his eyes accusatory. He began to move again as if he wanted to sit up, but I tugged him carefully back down.

“Can’t you listen?” I almost begged, the words holding multiple meanings.

The scene of the accident became surrounded as panicked students and faculty began to crowd where we were behind the barricade of the three cars. The bedlam was soundtracked by a torrent of shouting.

Although I could hear every exclamation of concern, every question, every instruction as we waited for the ambulance to arrive, I paid little attention to the canopy of humans, instead studying the strange metallic hues of his thick, tousled dark hair, the surprisingly smooth milkiness of his skin, the magnetism of his light green eyes, speckled with flecks of dark green the shade of the forests and brown the color of honey. This was the closest I’d ever been to him, and here I was, not falling into any monstrous temptations. It was a bizarrely beautiful sight – the upside down boy, the sparkling glass, the pretty eyes. I responded when urgent questions were asked of me but didn’t glance away.

Only when the ambulance finally arrived a few minutes later did I look elsewhere as the boy disappeared from the ground, being lifted onto a gurney along with another student, the careless van driver. It was Melanie Dean, a very striking girl with curly hair and luminous dark skin. My frozen heart felt as though it sunk upon realizing it was her. She seemed to be in much worse shape with gashes across her body bleeding profusely. Her mother was very kind to Esme, and she was a very responsible and kind student. She couldn’t have been careless; it must have truly been an accident. I mentally forgave her and let go of the resentment I’d already built for whoever had placed this annoying boy in harm’s way.

After reassuring the EMTs I was perfectly fine, I climbed into the passenger seat of the ambulance, chatting with the driver, a friend of Carlisle’s. I didn’t look back at Edward, procrastinating facing the accusations in his eyes and trusting the medics to do their jobs.

I ignored the fierce stares of my reconvened family members as we drove out of the parking lot. Their anger wouldn’t be enough to keep them from destroying any evidence I’d left behind.

It was a great deal of luck to find Carlisle alone in his office. Hearing my approach from down the hall, his golden eyes were full of perplexity as I entered the room, becoming aghast upon seeing the gravity of my expression.

I could almost see the thoughts flash across his face as he assumed the worst, but he was polite and patient enough to allow me to speak.

“Carlisle, I’ve done something terrible,” I confessed. “Edward – or, the boy – is fine, or at least, I hope so. I didn’t do anything to him per se.” I might as well have been monosyllabic with how effective I was communicating the situation. I continued in a rush. “There was an accident. A student’s van nearly crushed him,” I decided to correct myself, “would have crushed him had I not intervened. It was entirely reckless and irresponsible. Carlisle, I am so, so sorry. I-” I faltered, my voice catching in my throat in a strange way, the sound becoming thicker as I realized this was exactly the kind of mistake they had encouraged me to leave to avoid making. “I’m so sorry. I put you, Esme, the entire family in danger. It’s all my fault. I should have left as soon as you and Jasper said so, I shouldn’t have-”

Immediately, my adopted father materialized by my side, pulling me into a strong hug, shushing me. How many consoling stone hugs would I be enveloped in these days?

“Sweet Bella,” he began, smoothing the top of my head. “You are not the first – and I’m certain you won’t be the last–” Carlisle chuckled before continuing, “–of our family to be less than perfect. You have had grace for us countless times, and we will have grace for you.”

It was typical of Carlisle to include himself in the plural even though it seemed he had never made a mistake in his mortal or immortal life.

He pulled away from the embrace but only to hold me at arm’s length and examine my face. I looked up into his comforting eyes more than a head above me, so full of compassion and understanding that I felt unworthy of. Something about the unrelenting and unconditional love in his perfect face made me think of my human father. “Now, explain again what happened.”

I recalled every action in meticulous detail. Every shriek of the tire, every movement of my sin, every expression on Edward’s face as he watched me. As Carlisle listened, he left my side to straighten up his desk, closing the thick textbook atop it, and folded up the prescriptionless reading glasses he sometimes wore at work to hang on his collar.

“You did the right thing. And it couldn’t have been easy for you. I’m proud of you, Bella. Perhaps only the boy saw, and with all of the shock and trauma of the moment, he might be considered the least reliable witness.”

“He knows we’re...different. He knows something is wrong with me,” I whispered like a scared child.

“If we have to leave, we’ll leave.”

I frowned.

“Has he said anything?”

“Not yet, but he asked that I didn’t lie to him. Well, demanded really. Which is a very privileged stance to take when someone’s just saved your life.” The frown on my face deepened as I recalled how maddening Edward could be in the little time I interacted with him.

Carlisle brightened at my words, a small smile pulling at his lips. I wondered what he found funny.

“Anyways, I’ll come up with an explanation. I’m sure I could be persuasive enough to discredit his account of the events.” There was an edge of doubt to my voice.

“Perhaps it won’t be necessary. Shall I check on our patient?”

“Please!” I said. “I’m worried that maybe I ended up hurting him instead!”

Carlisle’s fair eyebrows raised, and then he shook his head, laughing aloud. “With Alice a part of our family, we rarely have such a strange day that comes as a shock to us, don’t we?”

Strange, indeed. This morning we discussed how it may be more beneficial for me to leave to protect the boy, and yet, had I been gone during the accident, my absence would have accomplished the opposite.

I found myself unexpectedly laughing too as Carlisle left the room.

I impatiently waited alone in his office, distracting myself by listening to the passing voices throughout the hallways of the small Forks hospital. The anticipation was too much as I listened to the van driver’s diagnosis of injuries. I felt bad for her mom but was relieved there seemed to be no permanent damage.

Edward patiently awaited his turn for x-rays, and I was anxious to hear Carlisle’s voice. He seemed to be allowing the physician’s assistants to do the bulk of the assessment. It was probably better this way. Carlisle’s face would instantly trigger the memory of me snatching him and all but flying through the backseat of the car. Who knows what might break Edward’s silence.

Melanie and Edward chatted back and forth. He consistently brushed off the staggering guilt that led her to apologize profusely, instead charmingly turning the conversation onto other subjects as if they weren’t sitting in a hospital post accident. He seemed to always know the perfect thing to say, soothing the tension of the circumstance and distracting her from the discomfort of the PA’s inspection. Edward asked about her now deceased van, her home life, her aspirations once completing high school, making guesses as to the reasons behind her answers. Melanie was shocked at how spot on some of his assessments were. It seemed he truly was a good reader. Only when she chuckled at some of his words did she remember where they were as the laughter pained her bruised and maybe broken body.

I froze with stress as Melanie finally asked how he had gotten out of the way.

Without hesitation, Edward smoothly replied, “Oh, Bella pulled me out of the way.”

This was true, but it didn’t pose a significant risk to me.

“Bella Cullen,” he spoke again as Melanie hesitated. She must have looked confused.

Edward had spoken my name before, but something about hearing it again this time overcame me with inexplicable excitement.

“Bella was right next to me in the car.”

“In the backseat?”

“Yes.”

“What was she doing in the backseat?”

“That’s not really any of your business,” Edward laughed. He said it perfectly in a way that made it clear he wouldn’t reveal more but wasn’t rude, making Melanie laugh as well. I wasn’t sure how to feel about the implications of what he said.

“Bella Cullen… That’s weird. I didn’t even see her. It was all so fast, I guess. Did she make it out okay?”

“I think she’s perfectly fine. She’s around here somewhere, but she seems to have the right connections at this place. No stretcher required and a first class ticket to sit passenger side in the ambulance.”

I smiled to myself.

Absentmindedly, I wandered around, feeling frustrated at the distance the circumstances forced between Edward and I. I wanted to see his face for myself, know that he was okay, and figure out what needed to be said.

Near the radiology room, I snuck a peek at the X-rays they just imaged of Edward when the nurse was looking elsewhere. His scent lingered in the hallway, though muddled by the movement of passing visitors and orderlies. It tickled my throat, but the temptation didn’t consume me. I could tell he’d already been moved back to the emergency room.

Carlisle caught me, giving me a meaningful glance as he pinned the images to the light board.

“He’s absolutely fine, Bella. No harm whatsoever. Well done,” my adopted father whispered so quietly that only I could hear.

The praise evoked a complicated reaction in me. I was very pleased but remained silent for a moment.

“I think I’ll go talk to him before he sees you. Act as though nothing happened,” I whispered back. He nodded approvingly. “Act as though I didn’t kick the door off a car,” I added sarcastically.

Carlisle chuckled quietly to himself.

Arriving at the ER, I hesitated. This would be the last time I’d ever see Edward Masen. A slight ache in my chest kept me from beginning this last of moments with him. I guess I could toy with the possibilities for the explanation as to why later once I’d left Forks.

I inhaled deeply, moving into view.

Edward’s thick eyebrows raised once he saw my face, his eyes accusatory again, but he relaxed his expression immediately before Melanie could see. “Ah, our fellow survivor’s finally decided to join us.”

Melanie’s dark eyes snapped over to look at me. She blinked rapidly, distracted by either a disorientation from her wounds or the proximity I stood to her. I was rarely this close to humans I didn’t share classes with. I probably looked even more unnatural, more inhuman under the fluorescence of the hospital lights.

“Oh, hey, Bella.” She said once recovered. “I’m so sorry-”

“No blood, no foul,” I interrupted her apology, shrugging. I smiled widely.

Glancing over her wounds, I found myself relaxed by the lack of desire. I’d forgotten what it felt like to be so strong and unaffected. The fleshy areas of her skin and fresh blood soaking through some of the bandage wraps around her arms hardly distracted any part of me.

It was nothing in comparison to Edward’s unexposed blood.

I strolled over to seat myself on the end of Melanie’s mattress.

“So, fellow survivor,” I mimicked the name he used, “give it to me straight. What’s the verdict?”

“As I said before, never better.” He answered. Edward’s green eyes were narrowed slightly in suspicion, though I doubted Melanie would detect as such. His eyes held allegations. They seemed to say I don’t trust you.

As he shouldn’t. “They won’t let me leave though. Is there a reason you’re not strapped to a gurney? I didn’t know nepotism could extend to medical treatment.”

“It’s all about who you know,” I smiled again at his irritation. Carlisle’s tread was nearring us down the hallway. “But lucky for you, I came to spring you.”

As Carlisle entered the room, I glanced down at my hands, unwilling to watch Edward’s reaction to my father’s face. I knew he’d notice the resemblance immediately. I winced when a quiet gasp escaped from Melanie’s mouth as she dropped it open in surprise.

“So, Mr. Masen, your X-rays look good. How are you feeling?” Carlisle clipped the X-rays to the light board on the wall opposite the bed.

“I feel perfectly fine,” Edward replied smoothly.

“Does your head feel alright? I heard you hit the ground pretty hard,” Carlisle crossed over to Edward’s hospital bed. He reached forward to gently run his fingers through Edward’s bronze hair, searching for any bumps from the impact.

I froze again watching this, stunned by the nearness. A bizarre surge of something like envy crashed over me as I wished I could have the control to so tenderly touch him, no fear of inflicting pain or harm… No longing for his blood the way I longed for it now.

“I can assure you, I really am okay, Dr. Cullen.” Edward laughed.

“Well, in that case, you’re free to go. Although, I’m afraid your car wasn’t so lucky with its fate. We spoke on the phone to your father, but he-”

“Had a meeting in Seattle today, I know,” the boy finished for him.

“He’s on his way back to Forks as we speak, however if you don’t want to wait three hours, I’m sure Bella wouldn’t mind taking you home.”

I was unprepared for Carlisle’s words. My eyes immediately flashed to his, searching for an answer as to his madness. Was now truly the optimal time to push the boy’s luck? My father’s honey eyes were partly apologetic but full of faith. Clearly he trusted me too much – trusting me to ensure the safety in our secrets and the safety of the boy’s life. He reached for a clipboard of medical paperwork, looking away.

Edward barely had time to glance in surprise at me by the time our exchange had occurred. Again, he raised his eyebrows, the green irises beneath full of questions.

“Of course I wouldn’t mind, Carlisle. However, I don’t have the car with me,” I began with false politeness, knowing I was being extremely rude to question his judgment but questioning it nonetheless.

“You can take mine.” He didn’t look up as he flipped through the paperwork.

“Perfect,” I replied before standing from Melanie’s hospital bed and walking towards the exit of the room. “I’ll be right back, Edward.”

“Mr. Masen, if you feel dizzy or have trouble with your eyesight at all, come back. Bella will stay with you until your father comes home or she’ll leave a phone number for you to call if you require assistance,” Carlisle instructed as I walked down the hallway in pursuit of his office.

“Thank you,” Edward replied politely.

“It seems you were extremely lucky.”

I entered Carlisle’s office, crossing to collect the key from his belongings.

“Lucky that your sister in law happened to be beside me,” he agreed, a stern edge to his tone. I grasped the car key so tightly I nearly molded it into a new shape.

“Ah, well, yes,” Carlisle replied. I’m sure he detected the same note in his voice that I had. I listened to the near-silence of his feet and the turning of papers. “Unfortunately, Ms. Dean, it seems you weren’t quite as lucky. You’ll have to stay with us a little while longer.”

As I heard the shuffling of Edward sliding off the hospital bed, I rounded the corner of the hallway to the ER.

“Handle it whichever way you think is best,” my father mumbled silently beneath his breath upon hearing my approach.

I leaned against the wall outside the doorway, listening to the beating of Edward’s heart sending the blood circulating throughout his entire body. With every step of his feet against the tile, I wondered how I was going to do this. Sit so close beside him. Lie to him. Say goodbye.

Every thought pained me.

Edward exited the emergency room and was startled to see me already leaning there.

I smiled mournfully as I listened to the pounding of his heart in reaction.

“You scared me.”

“You ready?” I asked, holding up the key for him to see.

Without waiting for a response, I turned and walked down the hallway, silently gasping in the waves of air as other people passed by. He followed behind me through the automatic doors.

“Would you like to wait here as I bring the car around?” I turned to look at him.

“Please, Bella. I’m not that fragile. I’ll walk.” His jaw tightened. He looked down at me, the same indignant expression from earlier on his face. Don’t lie to me, he had said…

“Okay.” I frowned, storming off in the direction of Carlisle’s black mercedes.

Once no longer beneath the overhead of the hospital, the dreary grey gloom of the sky released the frosty droplets of an oncoming rain.

I groaned internally. The rain made everything smell so much more saturated, and Edward Cullen didn’t need the extra help. The universe seemed determined to rid him from the planet today.

I unlocked the car, sliding into the driver’s seat and revving the engine to life. Although unaffected by the weather, the air was glacial, so I reached to blast the heat throughout the vehicle for his sake.

Edward caught up to the car then, opening the passenger door and dipping down to settle into his seat.

I turned to face the outside world one last time, taking a deep breath of the wintry air before closing my door.

It was worse than I imagined. The tension. The longing.

Here, in the intimacy of the interior, the heat from Edward’s body was deliciously sweltering. I was almost dizzy as the venom began to pool. I swallowed hard.

Slightly less tortuous, I could sense the resentment in the air.

I slammed my foot on the gas, reversed the mercedes out of the parking spot, and sped to the highway as if I could avoid all confrontation by racing to his home.

“Address?” I asked through gritted teeth.

He answered quietly, and I nodded, redirecting myself in that direction.

I refused to look over at him as I swerved through any traffic. There wasn’t much at this time. Hardly any witnesses…

I accelerated.

Even without breathing through my nose, I could still taste him on my tongue just as I did in biology class. Just as I did in the parking lot. But now, there were hardly any witnesses...

My foot slammed down on the gas again.

This was exceptionally more dangerous for multiple reasons. There was no hope for fresh air from a hastily closed textbook or a passing student unless I inexplicably opened a window in the very end of a chilling winter. There was no menagerie of other human scents to dilute the potency. There was no means of exiting the situation without leaving him in a car with no driver barreling down a highway. It was an inescapable inferno.

“Bella,” Edward finally spoke. His voice was softer than I anticipated. Less accusatory. I wished I could read his thoughts to understand what led to the resolvement in his tone.

I kept my eyes on the road ahead of us.

“Bella,” he began again. “I understand that for whatever reason, you don’t want to provide an explanation as to what happened today.”

He paused, waiting for me to respond in any way. I felt his eyes scrutinize my face. I kept my features fixed into an impassive mask.

“But I’m not as gullible as you think I am. Or hope that I am. I know what I saw.”

“And what do you think you saw?” I demanded, still watching the giant firs streak past.

“Bella,” he groaned. I couldn’t help but notice he’d said my name so many times today. This time, his voice was as accusatory as his eyes had been. “Don’t patronize me. You were next to your cousin-sister by your car. I saw you. And you were laughing at something as you watched me. Then, when Melanie’s van began to skid toward me, suddenly, impossibly you were beside me, pulling me through the backseat of my car. And even more impossibly, as we were about to crash into the other car, you somehow kicked the door of its hinges and got us out, pinning me to the concrete as the collision crushed my car like a soda can. It would have crushed me, killed me even, had you not been there. So don’t act as though you were beside me the entire time, and I’m just too stupid to remember clearly. Or don’t act as though I’m too stupid now to not know when I’m being lied to.”

Finally, I looked at him.

I was horrified. But even more than that, I was awestruck. He had seen everything.

His face was fierce and weirdly beautiful.

“Nobody will believe that,” I almost whispered.

“Bella,” he quietly said my name again. The intensity of his expression softened slightly. “I had no intention of telling anybody.”

As I looked into the sincerity of his magnetic sage eyes, I was shocked to see how genuinely he meant it. I believed him.

“Then what does it matter?” I asked stubbornly.

“I value transparency. If I’m going to lie, I want to know why I’m lying for you.”

What he asked of me was fair. And I was surprised that I wished I could give it to him. That I trusted him. Something in me wished he could trust me.

But he couldn’t do that. And he shouldn’t.

I realized what was so stirring about the connection to this strange, bronze-haired boy. The draw of his blood was the inciting complication driving us together but outside of my family, these were the first real conversations I’d had in years.

And I can’t even truly be honest.

I pulled onto his street, scanning the numbers for the correct address.

“Here,” he said as we slowed in front of a lonely house nestled behind giant trees and bushes, much too large for the boy to go in to be alone. It was one of the nicer houses in Forks with its latticed bay windows and small wraparound porch. But it was a grey home against a grey sky and lifeless within. The windows were dark as if nobody had been home for a long time.

There wasn’t much I could do about having to breathe to speak. Reluctantly, I inhaled. The appeal was every bit as powerful, and I battled with the instinct to grab hold of him and crush his neck to my mouth.

I gave myself a moment to recover, willing myself to clarity.

He waited, watching me. I turned my head to face him.

“Edward,” I began this time. “Please. Can you please let it go?”

He stared me down, his eyes dark and contemplative.

“I can’t.” He moved to unbuckle his seatbelt. “But I can see that you won’t tell me, so don’t worry about it. Thank you for the ride.”

I placed the car in park and cut the engine as he began to exit the car.

I should have just let him go, but stubbornly I couldn’t let that be the last moment I’d ever spend with him.

“What are you doing?” He asked as I got out, shutting the door.

“Carlisle said to stay with you, didn’t he?”

“He said that after you’d left the room,” he pointed out. I wanted to kick myself, but this was a minor slip up in the grand scheme of today. “Well, it wasn’t hard to assume. How else will you make it back to the hospital if something happens to you?”

“Don’t worry about me. I’ll be fine.”

His words took on a double meaning to me. Maybe I should just leave now. He will be fine. Or at least, he’d only ever truly be fine once I’d left Forks.

“You’ll still have to wait three hours for your father to make it home. If you died in that time, it’d be my responsibility.” Tenaciously, I kept pace with him easily up the walkway to the porch. Whether Carlisle missed something crucially life-threatening from the accident or not, the words were true.

“I don’t see myself dying soon,” Edward fished in his pocket for a set of keys. “But whatever helps you sleep better at night.”

His strong face was sullen. The heavy eyebrows pulled together in frustration as he used the key to unlock the door.

“You’re angry with me,” I said.

He sighed heavily, pausing to look down into my eyes. His eyes were stormy and brooding. Then, he swung the door open and stepped inside.

Hesitantly, I followed him in.

His home was shrouded in darkness – not that my eyes needed the silvery light pouring in from the open door he was shutting behind me. I could see how carefully decorated it was. Navy walls and dark wooden accents everywhere – the floors, a great big grandfather clock, bookshelves, the frames on paintings. There were touches of white and black here and there too – gothic white lattice doors to the right leading to a home office with shelves of books nearly rivaling Carlisle’s collection behind a massive, intricately carved desk, a glossy black grand piano in the small, living area off to the left up a small step.

Here in the dark, it was even worse than it had been in the car. Though there was more distance between us now, lessening the heat his body washed over me, still, everything smelled of him and I was waging a war within. A bizarre current of energy coursed through the air between us and into my dead veins.

He turned on a small lamp illuminating the small entrance hallway with golden light that warmed his angry eyes.

“Do you play?” I asked in an attempt to distract myself from the inevitable bloom of the mouthwatering aroma beneath his skin, glancing again at the piano.

“Yes,” he responded, not bothering to elaborate.

“We have a piano just like this at home. Rosalie plays,” I spoke quietly. Aside from the bloodlust begging for attention in another corner of my brain, the intimacy of the two of us in this large house made me feel shy.

He looked at me meaningfully again for one moment, the mesmerizing green of his irises betraying some of the hurt he felt, before he turned to walk down the hallway.

The aching in my chest returned and without consciously deciding to, I was following him much too fast. The monstrous side of me was instantly excited by the pursuit, so I slowed myself to subdue it.

I paused for a moment before rounding the corner he had turned, wrestling with myself, suppressing the violence that begged me to lurch forward and empty his body. I smoothed the anguish contorting my face but finding that the pucker between my eyebrows was unwilling to undo itself.

With another excruciating breath through my mouth rather than my nose – I told myself that the burn ripping across my tongue was a good thing seeing that it was a reminder he had survived the car accident and the unexpected car ride that soon followed later – I turned the corner.

This must have been the real living room. Again, it seemed much too large for just the boy. His house wasn’t overwhelmingly huge but definitely bigger than average for this town. The room was decorated again in the strange assemblage of something victorian, something gothic, and something modern. It seemed reminiscent of another time. The room was still in the rich, dark jewel tones of navy, onyx, and pearl with the dark accents of wood. Patterns and textures of damask and velvet covered the rugs, tapestries, and drapery.

The boy was squatted down by the ornate white fireplace, his silhouette dark against the brilliant orange that erupted from the wood once he successfully got the fire started. The room was instantly filled with a heat that could nearly rival what it felt like to sit beside him in Carlisle’s car.

He stayed down for a moment, his back to me. Although completely vulnerable, the monster was quieted for now as I watched him in wonderment.

Finally, he stood up, looked at the fire for a second longer, and then settled onto a long white couch before the fireplace, stretching the length of his tall body across it.

“Edward,” I almost whispered from the entrance of the room, unsure of what to do with myself.

Tentatively, I took slow, cautious steps towards the couch as if approaching a wounded animal. With every movement, I measured the risk I posed. When I trusted myself, I crossed around the couch, gradually sinking down to sit down on the rug that extended from the edge of the fireplace across the length of the room.

I might as well have sat in the fire and allowed it to consume me for how much distance I tried to leave between the two of us. I was practically a foot from being perched on the wood. I wrapped my arms around my knees as I watched Edward’s eyes move along the mantel, the heat of the fire on my back and the boy in front of me warming me wonderfully. The flickering of the flames cast shadows that danced along his face, illuminating his green eyes. His rain-sprinkled hair appeared redder than ever, all traces of the warm bronzy-brown having vanished before the orange light of the fire.

“I know you’re not stupid,” I spoke. Edward’s eyes flickered over to me.

“I’m not,” he agreed, a halfhearted smirk tugging at his lips.

“You’re not,” I said again, surprising myself by laughing. His smirk grew into a sweeter smile, and I was relieved by the change in expression. In this moment, it felt as though no barriers existed between us. Like I had no secrets to hide from him, no differences among two friends. Except I did. And we weren’t friends, nor could we ever be.

“But?” He asked, already reading that I was unwilling to relent.

“But I can’t explain myself. I simply can’t. And I need you to promise me that you’ll let this go.” It was too much to ask and horribly unfair.

He sighed, sensing that the moment was clearly over.

“Okay,” Edward replied simply, reaching for a blanket hung over the back of the couch. He unfolded it, throwing it across his body. “I’m going to try to take a nap.”

“Okay,” I answered.

He propped his head up on a plushy brown pillow, his arm sliding beneath it, and closed his eyes.

I watched him for a moment, wishing he’d change his mind and open his eyes instead of hiding them from me. I hadn’t been ready to never see them again.

“Are you just going to watch me sleep?” He asked, a hint of a smile playing on his lips. His eyes remained closed.

“No,” I shot up, unsure of whether I should leave or stay or where to even place myself if I did.

“Well, make yourself comfortable. You really don’t have to stay though. I can take care of myself,” Edward chuckled, readjusting his position on the couch.

I nodded even though he couldn’t see, deciding he was right. As I noiselessly made my way out of the room, his voice stopped me.

“Bella?”

“Yes?”

“Thank you. For saving my life.”

“Goodbye, Edward,” I whispered.

“Oh, and by the way,” he yawned. “I’m still not letting this go.”

I said nothing as I left the house.

i hope u enjoyed. sorry for taking so long!

nobody: vampire bella: my vampire mind is infallible and so strong and fast because i'm a vampire and i can smell everything and see everything even in the dark because my vampire powers are so strong did i mention i was a vampire?

if we’re being real, smeyer’s bella would have said holy crow at the accident, but MY bella can curse because i’m not a mormon.

[hi-i-love-u-bitch]

Rain Makes The Flowers Grow Ink and Candle AU

This is based on the beautiful Ink and Candle au by @sugarglider9603 where Logan is a quill and ink pot and Patton is a candle and also Roman is a rose and Virgil is a little rain cloud. I thought it was super cute and you should totally check out all of her art because she’s SUPER AMAZING!!! Anyway, I got in the mood to write some Prinxiety and will probably write something for Logicality later. Please enjoy!!!

The flower people were a very curious bunch, on one hand they were vain, loved to gossip, and easy were to offend but once they accept you as part of their own they’re sweet, loyal, and ready to fight for you. But being that they are faery folk that is something to expect of them. Still, Virgil had a hard time adjusting to their sudden switch in attitude, even if it has been a few months.

When Virgil first wandered into this land everybody feared him, being that he studied magic he was more powerful then your average storm cloud so it was to be expected. Then he met Logan, who was much too curious to be scared of him. He studied magic as well, more with ruins and alchemy, and was overjoyed to have someone to talk to and study with. Logan introduced him to Patton who was cautious at first, keeping his boundaries and speaking softly, but that lasted all but five minutes. The candle creature was an exciting being with a kind soul that gave hugs frequently and a bit too tightly. It was he that introduced Virgil to Roman.

Virgil and Roman did not get along at first, Roman was much too dramatic, boisterous, and stuck-up, and Virgil for the life of him could not understand how a sweet creature such as Patton could be friends with him. He questioned Logan on the matter, seeing as the ink man and rose also bickered just as much, and was surprised to find out that Logan too though Roman good company. It was then Virgil got a quick lesson on faery lore, they aren’t too fond of outsiders so it wasn’t really Virgil’s fault but there was also very little he could do about it. Least you bring an offering or gift, like Logan did, or are kind and sociable enough, like Patton, there wasn’t much Virgil could do except hope Roman warms up to him.

Though it wasn’t like Virgil minded all that much, he much rather keeps to himself and study his magic. It did really matter to him if Roman, or any other flower folk for that matter, liked him or not. That is until the summer months came in and with it the biggest drought the land has ever come to see. Droughts were quite common during summer so the creatures of the land were more prepared then most but it was still not enough for this drought. Everyone was suffering but there were none that suffered more then the flower people, who depended on water more than anything else. The lake nearby was drying up and it was beginning to get increasingly difficult to ration out what little water they still had.

Virgil was surprised when Roman came searching for him, begging for him to help his people, thinking that the rose would be too proud to ask for any outside help. Still, Virgil was a bit reluctant, asking why he hadn’t just asked Logan who was much more experience to which Roman replied: “As powerful as Logan is his expertise is in ruins and alchemy. You’re from the cloud kingdom and are studying the magical forces of nature, you’re the only one who can help me!”

So, the rain cloud obliged, conjuring up a medium-ish storm of sorts, not big enough to cause damage but large enough to give plenty of water across most of the land. It drastically helped a lot of creatures and made Virgil sort of a hero. Which isn’t something Virgil wanted but it made people less scared of him so he guessed it was fine. Afterwards, Virgil thought once everything was said and done his “fame” would die down, he’d be left alone again, and Roman and him would continue to bicker. Of course, he was wrong because not only did Roman NOT shoo him out of his village immediately but asked him to accompany him to help make sure that the other villages surrounding the lake had plenty of water as well. Again, Virgil was surprise that Roman, being a flower folk, would worry about other villages being that they were considered “outsiders”.

And again, Roman replied with a surprising yet obvious answer: “Just because we don’t like conversing with outsiders does not mean we wish them misfortune or harm. Our neighbors are our allies, in times of need we help each other.”

That would not by the last time Roman surprised Virgil with his chivalry. Though it really shouldn’t be that surprising, Roman was a knight after all, the best in not only his kingdom but in all the land. Sure, Virgil would hear in passing conversation how Roman would boast to Patton about his adventures across the land, climbing mountains, finding treasure, and fighting off something called a dragon witch, all of which the rain cloud would roll his eyes and scoff at. But he really should have been paying attention as to WHY he was doing these adventures. He asked Patton once he was finished helping Roman with the surrounding villages around the lake because surely, he was missing something. Which he was, Roman climbed the largest, coldest mountain not meant for any living, green being to collect a special healing stone to help a sick boy in his village. He hunted down treasure stolen by bandits, returned it to the neighboring village from which it was stolen from, and refused to take any reward. The dragon witch was a real thing too, it was a malevolent being terrorizing the flower folk’s once rival kingdom, the cactus creatures.

“Why didn’t he say anything?” Virgil had asked, confused and a bit guilty for having written Roman off so negatively “He boasts and shows off everything else, why keep the most important things out of it?”

The candle man smiled fondly, a look of wisdom that Virgil didn’t know he was capable of, “Roman may be of the fae but he is also a knight and knights are taught nobility, chivalry, and humility. It would go against his morals to use the people he’s helped as means to gain popularity.”

Virgil could understand that, still didn’t excuse Roman for being a jerk to him, faery or not, but he guessed the rose wasn’t so bad after all. And apparently it went vise versa for Roman as well. He came by the next day to apologize for treating Virgil so harshly and not giving him a chance as well as inviting him over to his village for a celebration feast the flower folk were making in Virgil’s name. Virgil, a bit overwhelmed, was about to kindly decline the offer but Logan wisely stepped in and accepted for him, inviting himself and Patton as well.

“It is a great insult to decline an invitation by a faery,” Logan warned him once Roman had left “especially if they are celebrating in your honor. But don’t worry, me and Patton will be there to…ease the excitement.”

To which Virgil will forever be thankful for because flower folk parties are very…extra. It was odd having people who once stared at you suspiciously and whispered behind your back now coo at you sweetly and marvel at you like some sort of “rain god”. It was odd and excessively overwhelming, Virgil had to excuse himself multiple time so that he could breathe without having someone in his face singing his praise. How long would he have to stay at the party? Would it be rude to leave early? How rude would it be if he left early? Like punishable by silent treatment or hunt you down and take your first born? Why do faeries have to be so complicated?

It was then he heard a familiar voice from a few bushes by the try he was hiding behind, “Are you alright?”

“Just peachy Roman, thanks.” Virgil gave a strained smile that told the rose he was anything but peachy.

“Are you not enjoying yourself?” Roman asked.

“It-it’s not that, it’s just…” Virgil paused, trying to think of a way to word his thoughts without offending Roman and his people “it’s a bit…mm…much. Don’t you think? I mean, all I did was a simple spell-”

“You saved countless lives Virgil,” Roman cut in, a passionate fire in his eyes “simple spell or not you have done a great serves and deserve a thank you the matches up to it.”

“It does, it does!” Virgil assured “This is more then enough, it’s great, and I’m extremely grateful for it all. It’s just…my kind isn’t all that into,” he made a vague gesture with his hands “big…extravagant…parties. We like to keep it simple and small…and quiet. That’s all.”

“Oh,” Roman frowned, the fire being replaced by worry “I see.”

“But this is fine! It’s fine!” Virgil put in quickly “It’s just me, I’m not…” another vague gesture “social, as you can probably see.”

“But we have made you uncomfortable when we wish to celebrate you.” Roman rebutted.

“I’m not uncomfortable.” Virgil said, lying through his teeth.

“No, this is all wrong,” Roman sighed, the roses growing from his body dimming from it vibrant red color to a dull maroon “I wanted to apologized for my rude behavior and make amends so that we can be friends so I thought we’d throw a party so that we could mingle and get to know each other but now I’ve just ended up making you feel uncomfortable and I-”

“You wanna be friends?” Virgil asked, cutting off Roman’s rambling.

“Yes, yes of course,” Roman nodded before biting his lips nervously “I’ll admit, I had ill judgment of you when we first met. You are dark and gloomy looking and with Patton and Logan being dear friends of mind, well, I didn’t think they’d be safe around you. I now know it was very wrong of me to think that, of any of us to think that. And it all should have been very obvious since the beginning.”

Virgil tilted his head curiously, “Why is that?”

“Rain makes the flowers bloom.” Roman said simply, as if it answered everything Virgil needed to know.

It didn’t but the declaration made the rain cloud flush a deep scarlet and tug the hood of his cloak over his head as he mumbled, “That, er, really shouldn’t be enough to trust a person. It’s a nice metaphor, yeah, but trust and friendship take time and it’s built on much more then ‘what’s supposed to be’.”

“I guess you’re right,” Roman sighed melancholy before he perked up a bit, the tips of his roses turning back to their bright red color “then how bout we start over, and slowly this time?” He extended an arm of salutation “Hello, my name is Roman and I would like to be your friend.”

Virgil looked down at the rose’s hand unsure before he looked up to meet his eyes which were soft earthy tones of moss and rich soil. They practically glowed with life, inviting and fresh with new adventures on the horizon. How is it these eyes could hold so much within them?

“I-I’m Virgil and I would also like to be friends.” Virgil finally replied, firmly grabbing onto Roman’s hand.

“Oh my,” Roman said breathlessly.

“Is something wrong?” Virgil asked worriedly. Maybe he had grabbed on to tightly? Or maybe his hood made him look creepy?

“No, nothing of the sorts,” Roman assured, staring more intensely at him, his hand seeming to tighten around his and bring them a bit closer “it’s just…I’ve always thought your eyes were just one color, like a dark stormy grey. But now…it seems they reflect a multitude of colors.” He smiled brightly, his flowers now fully bright and red “Like a rainbow of sorts, it’s really quite amazing. With the rest of you being so dark and gloomy they really stand out quite beautifully.”

Once again, Virgil found himself flushing at Roman’s words and realizing that there was more to him than meets the eye. It quite silly to think of it this way but Roman was so closed off to him before but now, after the storms passed, he’s bloomed into something beautiful.

[ao-anonymousobsesser]

So I'm writing a VLD fic

@comfortably-chaotic-mind I'm tagging you bc you know this fic and I'm sure you'll want to hear this lol plus this is kind of a funny story...sorry for the long post though

Everybody else, I'm very very very sorry you have to put up with this but I'm really upset about this right now so I gotta get this out

Basically, Keith's dad was super close with the latest Admiral of the Galaxy Garrison. Like I'm not sure what happened with them (maybe graduated together?? or the admiral taught him some life lesson??? idk) but Kogane trusts Dos Santos with his LIFE okay

And he basically says that Dos Santos is Keith's godfather in his will

So when Kogane dies...Dos Santos shows up and is like bitch u ain't takin this boi to the home

So Keith becomes like the housecat-ghostboy-orphan of the Galaxy Garrison. He likes sitting with the old people, climbing in the rafters, and sneaking around to scare the shot out of the cadets.

He's also an avid reader. (A personal headcanon of mine but blown up to a massive proportion.)

Like I mean this boy eats books for breakfast lunch and dinner. If he's awake, he's reading. He listens to audio books to fall asleep half the time (the other half of the time he's blasting Disturbed or FOB or something edgy like that).

This boy has read every book that could even VAGUELY be considered interesting.

Okay, let me just tell you:

The average school library has a ratio of between 10 and 20 books per student.

Let's say the Garrison has 5000 students (just larger than West Points cadet count) and their ratio is small at 10. That's 50000 books in the library.

Probably 10000 are extra copies or second/third/twelfth editions of the same books (going by the ratio of 1/5 that my school had). That's still 40000.

I'm gonna be nice and say that 500 are reference books, another 500 are random (small, informational or entertaining, don't fit a special category), 25000 are nonfiction, and 14000 are nonfiction.

Keith is almost 13 at this point in the story.

As an avid reader myself, I started reading at four. Keith started at five in the story.

I was six when I read my first 200pager. So was Keith.

So let's say he started on the smallest books in the Garrison at age 5. That's 500 in a year. About a book and a half a day.

Boom. Down to 35500 books in the library.

(As we all know, I hope, the library will rotate books, causing the number to fluctuate a bit. But let's say for the sake of math that it stays this way)

His dad already gets supplies from the Garrison (because he lives on Garrison property shhh it makes sense) so he starts asking for more books because Keith is just eating them up.

So the countdown to 15000 starts.

This is where I should explain that I literally lived down the road from a small town library until I was ten years old. I know what it's like to have access to books. I went to the library with my uncle every saturday afternoon. The librarian knew my name and used to come to my soccer games when he could. He was my best friend.

I remember when I was about seven I started getting frustrated because I would go through all my books in the first few days of the week and then be out until Saturday. I started taking my bookbag with me. I made my uncle (in his teens) take one, too. We crammed anywhere from thirty to sixty books into those bags and carried more with us.

The only reason we got away with it (because there was a 20 book limit) was because we had six library cards between the three of us--i had mine and my mom's, my uncle had his, his best friends, and my grandma's, and the library dude was nice enough to lend us his if we needed it.

So yeah. On a good week, I got about seventy books. That's ten books a day.

(I should explain that I still went to school. I went to public school with plenty of kids who hated reading enough for all of us. I had teachers who either insisted I was some kind of genius--i wasnt--or banished me to the hallway for reading Jane Austen during reading time when they specifically said to pick something at the class reading level. I know this life. It's kinda sucky.)

So yeah. Ten books a day, seven days a week, for fifty-two weeks. I got through the entire small-town library (4000 books) in just over a year.

Yes, I even read the reference books. Yes, I had to ask for help with some of the more sophisticated books in the library. (Yes, I skipped a few of the research books. I was eight. Sue me.)

What I'm saying is that it is realistic for me to have Keith reading 5 or 6 thousand books a year for eight years, because in this story he has LITERALLY NOTHING ELSE TO DO.

His dad homeschools him without schooling him at all (unschooling, look it up on wikipedia--yes I know it probably doesn't work like that, but it's my AU and I do what I want). Then his dad dies when he's just over eight and he's alone in the house for a year. Just books to keep him company.

Then (after meeting Sam Holt) he starts trekking out to the Garrison, creeping around the halls and camping out in the library when he feels like it.

He makes friends with the campus librarian. Professors give him books for his birthday. At twelve, he got Sam and Dos Santos to help him build a room onto the old shack so his books weren't just lying wherever in the house. The room has twelve bookcases (three on each wall) each with five shelves (60 shelves total) and full of books (about 2000 books total, give or take).

He doesn't socialize a lot (he's still Keith) but it's not that he doesn't want to. It's just that he's awkward (he's still KEITH). If people would stick around for a while (more than ten minutes), he's actually really cool and funny, even if he's a little defensive/shorttempered/oblivious/clueless.

(Just because you're smart and read a lot doesn't mean you understand everything. Just because you know how to make jokes doesn't mean you always catch them or that you understand idioms or innuendos or anything that isn't straight talk.)

His jokes are literature based. He uses sarcasm a lot even though half the time it comes out wrong. He identifies with both Darcy and Elizabeth on a spiritual level.

He has a room at Dos Santos' that has a bookcase full of composition notebooks, themselves full of notes on all the books he's read, little doodles of scenes he really likes, and jokey little summaries of long reference passages.

He's a nerd who never had to learn how to socialize with real people. He LIKES people. He's not a robot, and he doesn't automatically hate you on sight.

He's just been through a lot in his life, and he's still just a lonely little kid.

Anyway. Keith reads about twenty fiction/short books some days, four longer reference/textbook books other days. It varies. It took him six hours to get through Under the Dome, and there was one time he read eleven aeronautics manuals in eight hours and then passed out for fourteen, but mostly he takes longer for reference books/textbooks than fiction books/memoirs.

Also he's read the dictionary/thesaurus like forty times by the time he's thirteen and he shows ZERO sign of stopping. It's basically a religion at this point.

So let me break this down again:

Garrison library has 50,000 books. Minus 10,000 because they're copies/lame editions. That's 40,000 books.

1000 are reference books or random (small, informational or entertaining, don't fit a special category) books, 25000 are nonfiction/memoir/diagram based/school or lesson based, and 14000 are nonfiction.

Keith starts reading at five. His first five hundred are done when he's six--he starts on the next five hundred and finishes within months. His dad starts asking for larger shipments.

By the time Keith is seven, he's read 2000 books.

We're down to 38,000 books in the Garrison library.

Between seven and eight, he reads another 3000. Down to 35,000 books in the Garrison library.

A couple months later (500 books down, 34,500 to go) his dad dies. He's alone in the house for 10 months, only books to keep him company.

He reads another 4,000 books in this time. By the time he turns nine, he's reading at a high school level. 30,500 to go.

Sam visit on his ninth birthday. He brings more books, invites him to visit the Garrison sometime. The librarian could use some company.

Keith does.

By the time he's ten, he's read another 6,500 books. It's a really good year. 24,000 to go.

Age 10-11: 6,000 books. 18,000 to go.

Age 11-12: 5,750 books.12,250 to go

He's turning 13 in a few weeks. This year he has so far read 5,375 books. He wants to hit 5500 again. For the five year anniversary.

It's not a good year. He's not feeling great. He starts talking to Matt more than he used to. Matt pushes him a little. He says he can do it. Keith believes him. He's never lied to him before.

(That Keith knows of. What goes to his benefit is unnecessary knowledge for him.)

He hits 5,500. 6,750 to go.

This is where I am now.

Now by all accounts, there are a few notes I should make.

There is a portion of books at Keith's home that he has not read. They are books the librarian gave him because she knew he hadn't read them before they were getting rotated out for a new shipment. This is probably 500 books.

That makes the total 7,250.

Less than ten thousand.

He has read 33,250 books in eight years (ages 5 to 13). Average: 4156.25 books per year, 11.3 books per day.

I'm almost twenty and I read 55,383 books between the ages of 4 and 18 (between the first book I read at home and the last book I read before my graduation ceremony). Average: 3955.93~ books per year, 10.8 books per day.

I didn't have a lot of friends. I was bffs with every librarian I met/had. In 10th grade world history we had to give one cool/weird fact in an introductory assignment and I told them I had read every book in the school library. No one believed me. I told them I could prove it. She said go ahead.

"I have read every book in the school library. The librarian can vouch for me. They have not rotated their books since I was in eighth grade. My grandmother works here, so I know. There are exactly 17,488 books in the library, not including extra copies or "editions" like all they did was change two sentences in the intro that's hardly new information. But whatever. I started reading that year. I made a list of every book i read that year. There were 3272. That's 14216 to go--all of which were in the fiction and nonfiction sections. My grandmother checked them out. If you go into her records from that year and take that list and add it to my list from last year in 9th grade, you'll see that I read every single book. I started with the reference section that year and then went to the manga, then the nonfiction, then the historical fiction, then the fantasy fiction. I had already read most of the books in the fiction section. 6,791 out of 7,918 to be exact. That's 7425 to go. I'd also read 3577 if the 6298 nonfiction books. That's 3848 to go. Over the course of the last school year, which lasted exactly 42 weeks, I checked out 30 books every Monday and 50 books every Thursday. That's eighty books every week. Times 42, that's 3360. 488 left. I hung out with my grandmother while she worked over the summer. I kept my reading up, only for the first half. By the end of July--the 29th--I had read the rest. That's nine books a day every day. Don't believe me? Ask the librarian."

So the teacher did.

She put the librarian on speakerphone.

The librarian went on a full ten minute rant about how ridiculously difficult it was checking out fifty books at a time.

My history teacher wouldn't come within 2ft of my desk until after holiday break, and she didn't go into the library at all that year.

Moral of the story: IT IS TOTALLY LOGICAL/ACCEPTABLE THAT I HAVE KEITH READING OVER 30,000 BOOKS IN EIGHT YEARS IN THIS FIC OKAY PLEASE DON'T COME AT ME OVER THIS

[im-still-writing-out-of-time]

New Colors

Request: May we have some Lamliza soulmate au? Preferably one where if a soulmate dies they lose color. And when they meet they gain the ability to see color?

Masterlist

The world was dull. When Alexander touched Eliza’s hand, it had only brought on dull colors, nothing like the colors everyone had described to them. And it was the same for Eliza. Everyone they talked to that was lucky enough to find their soulmate swore the world was vibrant, reds and blues that washed over everything, the green leaves dancing on the trees, and the sudden vibrancy was painfully beautiful to look at after a world of grays. Angelica had met her soulmate and swore that red was the most beautiful color in the world, but Eliza and Alexander could not figure out how. The colors of the world all had a muddy feel to them. They all looked as though they were beneath a stormy sky.

The couple was chronically depressed. They loved each other with all their hearts, they truly did, but they were always yearning for more, for that vibrancy in their sights that everyone had described. Alexander and Eliza had gone to her mother for advice, thinking it was a problem between them, but she had not been any help. Their life was soon lacking as much vibrancy as the colors in front of them.

The only vibrant colors they could see was that of each other’s eyes. They would spend as much time as they could gazing into the only bright color in their lives. Eliza’s eyes were a deep chocolate, two brown pools that shone gold when the light hit them, dark and light swirling together, whereas Alexander’s eyes were bright, an azure blue and violet mixed, flecks of silver splattering throughout.

Eliza stood at the kitchen window, staring out at their lawn, hoping things would change soon. Just one look at her and Alexander could tell what she was thinking. He walked over and left a kiss on her cheek, before finding her hands balled into fists, crinkling the fabric of her skirt.

“It will all be better soon. Imagine, my darling Betsey. Imagine the moment we can finally see color in the world- all the blues and greens, the yellow of the flowers in the summertime- we shall be able to see them all, in all their splendor.”

She smiled sadly at him. “I know Alexander. I only wish we knew why the colors are so lifeless.” She turned around and adjusted his suit coat. “You must get to work. I shall see you tonight when we go to father’s house for supper.” She kissed him gently and he rest his forehead against hers, his hand looping behind her neck to cradle her head.

“I love you, Betsey. With every fiber of my being, I have the deepest of loves for you.” He pressed a chaste kiss to the crest of her nose before pressing another to the delicate knuckles of her hand. “I shall be home before evening, my dearest Betsey.”

The sun was low on the horizon as Alexander stacked his papers on his desk, stowing them away in a desk drawer. He pulled his coat on, his movements quick and deliberate, excited that he would be home in time to get ready for dinner at her father’s for once. He grabbed his satchel, hanging it from one shoulder as he walked through the doors of his office. He walked briskly through the front doors of the building where he stood on the cobblestone. He kept his pace quick as he walked home, but his quick movements were stopped as someone called out.

“Pardon me, sir!” The voice had a vaguely different accent, though Alexander could not place it. He stopped in his tracks and turned, searching for the voice that had called out. “Sir, you dropped this.” A man of average stature was behind him, carrying the scarf Eliza had made him.

“Thank you, kind sir. I had not yet noticed that I had dropped this. I give you my thanks, as my beloved Eliza made me this as a gift before our wedding.” It was a simple scarf, but Alexander made sure to wear it in the cold New York weather, and even now, in July, he carried it in his bag.

“I am glad I could return it,” the brunet said. “Good day to you sir.” He began to turn and walk away until Alexander called out to him.

“Sir! May I know your name?”

The man turned around and Alexander stared into his eyes- a vibrant blue, the same color Alexander had imagined the night sky would be immediately after sunset, a brighter daytime blue splattering itself visible in tiny spots across the iris, the nighttime and noon skies meeting in perfect harmony in his eyes. “John Laurens,” he said, holding out his hand.

“Alexander Hamilton.”

The moment their hands met, Alexander was bombarded with color. His eyes blinked automatically, an attempt to adjust to the sudden vibrancy. His own suit was a dark blue and John’s cheeks shone bright, the brisk air bringing out the red in his cheeks. Tears came to Alexander’s eyes as he saw the different colors around him. They were all so bright, so beautiful. He looked over at John, who looked rather underwhelmed.

“The colors are dull, Alexander. They are nothing like anyone has described. I- I feel rather underwhelmed by the color, though I am eternally grateful for having found my soulmate. And here you are. Hello, Alexander,” he said chuckling slightly before the smile fell from his face. “Did you not just mention a wife?”

“You must come home with me at once to meet her John,” he said, grabbing the man’s hand and pulling him down the street. “You are just what we need. You are the one we have been waiting for.”

“The one you have been- Alexander, you are talking nonsense.”

“It will all make sense once you see her, I promise. But come at once, John Laurens.”

The men ran around town until they ran up the winding driveway of the Hamilton household. Alexander burst through the door, John in tow behind him, still skeptical at what was happening.

“Betsey! Eliza, my love, I have someone I want you to meet.” The excitement seeped through his voice, through every ounce of his being. He was bouncing in place, John standing awkwardly behind Alexander, hugging himself.

Eliza strode into the front room, carrying the ribbon for her dress in one hand. “Alexander,” she smiled warmly. “Who is this?”

“Eliza, this is John Laurens. John, my wife, Elizabeth Schuyler Hamilton.”

She held out her hand for him and he gently pulled it towards himself, his eyes fluttering closed, and lowered his lips to brush her knuckles. “Enchanted,” he whispered, as he opened his eyes.

Eliza and John gasped moments apart and their eyes both blinked, trying to adjust their eyes to the sudden influx of bright color.

Eliza stared at her husband. His hair was a gorgeous auburn, the perfect combination of red and brown, his cheeks painted red, rather than the dull pink she had grown accustom to seeing. Freckles dotted the apples of his cheeks, crossing the bridge of his nose. The man beside him- John- was slightly taller, his chestnut hair tied back with a red ribbon. Angelica had been right, red was definitely a color worthy for being most beautiful. His eyes were a dark blue, the color of the evening sky just outside the window.

“John,” she whispered, loving the feel of his name. It just felt right. “John, would you accompany us to dinner at my father’s house?”

“I would be an imposition, would I not?” His hand was still holding hers from their greetings and she set her free hand atop his.

“Of course not, John. Mother always makes enough food for everybody she has invited, with extra accommodations for two more guests. Fret not, John, for there will be room for you tonight. Will you come?”

He stared into her brown eyes. “Of course, Elizabeth. If it would please you, I would very much enjoy a good supper.” He looked down at his clothing. “I fear as though I have no respectable garments, Elizabeth.”

“Shall I fetch him a suit of mine, Eliza?”

She released John’s hands and stepped toward him. “John, do not demean yourself. You look very respectable. Should anyone mention your attire and call it anything less than handsome, I will allow Alexander to give everybody present a fierce lashing with his tongue. My family knows better than to get Alexander excited about something.”

Alexander smiled as though he were embarrassed, his cheeks flushing a deeper shade of red. “It is almost time for dinner, my dear Betsey. Should I go hitch up the horses to the carriage?”

“Yes, please, Alexander. John, would you be so kind as to tie my ribbon?” She wrapped the silk around her waist and handed either end to him. His arms reached around her body to adjust the ribbon before pulling it taut and tying it in a simple bow. His hands lingered on her hips, the movement feeling familiar. Eliza turned around and smiled at John, before placing a gentle kiss on his cheek.

Eliza watched intently as his cheek turned from cream, to pink, to a blazing red.

Alexander walked in moments later and saw his wife beaming, and his other soulmate’s cheeks burning. He smirked, guessing exactly what Eliza had done. “Eliza, John, the carriage is ready to go. Shall we leave?” Eliza wrapped John’s arm around her and he escorted her to Alexander, who linked her arm through his. John tried to release Eliza’s arm, and Eliza let him, though it placed an ache in her chest as he did.

Her eyes fell to the floorboards, the wood stained a dark brown. Her hand was tense as it grabbed Alexander’s arm. Her free hand came to rest beside the first, grasping Alexander’s jacket. Her stomach churned and she pressed the back of her hand to her mouth.

“Eliza, dearest, are you alright?” Alexander’s azure eyes were dampened with concern.

“Of course my love. Just-” she paused. “Excuse me for a moment, my loves.”

The men stood in the doorway as she moved her body up the stairs elegantly. Alexander grasped John’s hand. “You are as much a part of this as we are John. We will do as much as we can to make you feel welcome. You are our soul mate. You are bonded to me as much as Eliza is, and you are bonded to Eliza as much as she is to me. Our love was difficult before you showed up. We loved each other with every once of our beings, but there was always something missing, and we knew it. We could not see full color, and it put our minds in a bad place, causing stress between us. Now that you are here, we can all see full color. The vividness and brightness is more than we could ever imagine. Please, do not ever doubt your place in our relationship.” Alexander pressed his lips gently to John’s, his hand moving up to cradle his cheek. “Never doubt our love for you, John. You brought the brightness to our lives in the most literal sense.”

John’s cheeks flushed crimson, the heat in his cheeks rising beneath the palm of Alexander’s hand. Eliza strut down the stairs once more in her mint gown, a tinge of pink coloring her cheeks, nose, forehead.

Alexander strode to the stairs, his arms outstretched as he grew closer. “Eliza, you look feverish.” He pressed his lips to her forehead. “You do not feel as though you have a fever. Are you feeling ill?” He stepped back, looking at her slightly watery, bloodshot eyes. “Should I send word to your father that we are unable to make dinner tonight?” John appeared behind Alexander and reached for her hands, leading her down the last few steps.

“Shall we get in the carriage, Eliza?”

“Of course, John. Alexander, I am not feverish, and I only feel slightly ill. We can still make supper tonight. You know my mother would be disappointed if we did not show up.” She pressed a cheek before linking Alexander’s arm through her own. She looked at John sadly wishing he would link arms on her other side, but she chose not to voice her wishes. “Shall- shall we go?”

John caught the look she gave him and wrapped his arm through hers. “Of course we shall. Eliza, I cannot wait to meet your family. Do they know of the circumstances of our love?”

“Oh John,” Alexander mused quietly. “Our life was so dull colored before you came, everybody knew that, but no one knew why. They will understand that you are our soulmate. They must.”

John helped Eliza into the carriage and Alexander crawled in behind them, allowing John to sit beside Eliza. The driver lurched the carriage forward and Eliza fell into John, deciding to stay there as they rode to her father’s. “John… Alexander…” she paused, taking a shuddering breath. “I believe that… I am with child.”

Alexander rushed over and wrapped her into a hug while John’s eyes widened. “Uh, I give my fondest wishes to you two, Alexander and Eliza.”

Eliza looked heartbroken. “John, you-” She pushed Alexander back slightly. “John, you will be his father as well. Just because- because you did not sire him, does not mean you are any less important to us. You will be this child’s father too,” she whispered, resting her hand on her stomach.

John wiped at a tear that slid down her cheek. “I did not intend to make you cry, dear Eliza. But you must understand, Alexander was lucky enough to court you, to gain your love through what I can only imagine were extravagant gestures. But you just met me this evening. How can you both be so sure that I will fit in with you?”

Eliza sat on his lap and leaned back. “Do you feel how well we fit together?” She raised his hand to her breastbone, hovering above her heart. “Our hearts are beating together John. Can you feel that? Were I to bring Alexander over here, his body would fit perfectly with us, his heart beating as ours beat. You were meant for us, John, as much as I was meant for Alexander.” She sat up and pressed a gentle kiss to his forehead. “You belong with us, John.”

He leaned in to Eliza and pressed his lips to hers. “It will take some time before I feel as though I am truly a part of this courtship.” He looked down sheepishly. “Well, you two are already married,” he trailed.

“We will get you a ring, John. You will be married to us as well. We will make love with you, you will help raise our children. John, we love you as if you’ve been here since day one.”

The ride went on as Alexander exploded with excitement, Eliza laughing at his antics. John held her on his lap, his arm wrapped around her waist, smiling as he watched them. His hand rested where her stomach would soon be stretching to carry the baby.

“John, you look as though you are deep in thought,” Alexander’s voice floated through his thoughts.

“Ah, that is because I am, Alexander.”

Eliza’s body turned to look at him, her mint skirt swishing around the carriage floor. “What about, John?”

“I… I wonder if you should carry my child some day as well.”

Eliza leaned in and pressed her gorgeous pink lips to him. “Of course I would, John. I will do anything with you that I have done with Alexander. Or that I will do with him in the future. I would love to carry your children; you are my soulmate as much as Alexander is.” She leaned into his ear. “I will do anything I have to if it will make you believe me.”

John blushed a bright red, reaching all the way to the tips of his ears. “I am sure that I will feel welcome in time.” The carriage lurched to a stop and the driver stepped around to open the door. “We’re here, I presume.”

“We are indeed. And as usual, Alexander spent most of the ride talking,” jabbed Eliza, before she leaned in for a peck on the lips. “John, would you mind getting out first?”

“Of course, my sweet.” He stepped down and reached for Eliza’s hand, helping her out. As she stepped to the ground, she pressed a sweet kiss to his pink cheek. Alexander stepped down from the carriage and pressed a kiss to each of his soulmate’s cheeks.

“Shall we go inside?” Alexander linked his arm through Eliza’s and John took post on Eliza’s left, linking their fingers in the folds of her skirt.

There was a shining brass knocker on the front door, resting against the dark mahogany of the door. Alexander’s pale hand reached up and rapped the knocked against the door. John noted how slight and feminine his hands looked in the evening light.

The door opened and a woman stood at the door, her clothes were a pale blue and she wore an stark white apron. “Good evening Ms Eliza, Mr Alexander and guest, the family is at the dining table, awaiting you. Dinner will be done presently,” she said as she curtseyed and stood back, waiting for the visitors to walk through the door before she shut it. Eliza studied the young girl- it was no one she had seen. The trio stepped into the dining room and Eliza’s parents stood to greet them.

“Oh Elizabeth! How good to see you,” Catherine’s soft voice tinkled as she pulled her daughter into a hug. “You look positively radiant.” Her arms moved to embrace Alexander as her husband, the general, finished shaking his hands. The forest green sleeves of her dress wrapped around him. “Alexander, rosy as usual,” she quipped slightly.

“Your dress is an astonishing shade of green, Mrs Schuyler.”

“Ah!” She exclaimed, her voice still claiming its usual softness. “The color has come to you in full strength then?”

He stepped back from her arms and smiled. “Yes, and it is because of this man here, John Laurens. John, Mrs Catherine van Rensselaer Schuyler and General Philip Schuyler. Philip, Catherine, John Laurens.”

General Schuyler shook John’s hand, the tough leather of his hands tanned from the summer sun. “Pleasant to meet you.”

“Likewise, General.”

The small maid stepped just behind General Schuyler. “Dinner is served, sir.”

“Yes, of course! Come, sit. Eliza, my beautiful daughter, it is good to see you looking so well.”

Eliza’s eyes shone bright. “It is good to see you looking to be in good health, father. I presume you have ridden that cold you had.”

“I have. Now let us all enjoy this wonderful spread of food.”

Angelica and her husband John smiled at the trio as they sat at the table. “Did I just overhear you say that you can see full color now?”

Eliza’s head bobbed excitedly. “We can! All three of us. John, Alexander and I are all soulmates.” Eliza smiled at each of the men as they took their place on her sides. “And I finally feel complete.”

“And,” Alexander started. “Eliza announced on the way over that she is with child.”

A cheer erupted from the table with various rounds of ‘congratulations’ sounding through the dining room.

“Now our supper will be a celebration,” stated Ms Catherine.

The food easily piled up on everybody’s plates. Peggy sat quietly at the end of the table as the conversation took a turn toward soulmates.

“How do you know all the different colors the moment you see them? I can look at these carrots, and I know they are orange. I know the color of Angelica’s dress is salmon, Eliza’s dress is mint, but I could not see any color until this evening. How do I know these colors?”

Ms Catherine smiled softly as Peggy answered. “It’s the power of soulmates. You just know,” she whispered.

John examined his plate as he ate. The carrots were a bright orange, the roast a glistening brown. The beans were a dark green and a glass of wine stood by his plate, a dark burgundy. He knew these colors. He knew what they looked like, different shades. Could that all be just because of soulmates? The world works in mysterious ways.

Conversation over dinner was friendly. Everyone was chattering back and forth across the table, even the women. All except Eliza. She was the only one to stay quiet as she took turns holding hands, first John’s, then Alexander’s, repeating in a cycle throughout dinner. Suddenly she stood up abruptly and mumbled a slight “excuse me” before rushing from the room.

Alexander brushed his chair back as he stood, John standing beside him, but Catherine convinced them to sit back down. “It is only sickness, boys. She will be fine.”

Both men’s faces flushed red as their knees bounced. Neither of them wanted to sit still if Eliza was unwell but Catherine had insisted she would come back.

Eliza came back- fifteen minutes later according to Alexander’s watch- her face pale, rouged around her cheeks. “I must apologize for leaving so abruptly. Seeing as I am no longer hungry, I am going to retire to my bedroom upstairs. Alexander, would you be so kind as to wake me up when it’s time to leave?”

As Alexander was opening his mouth to reply, the general’s voice filled the room. “Do not be ridiculous Elizabeth. Feel free to spend the night. There is no need for you to cut your visit short and rush home. Go sleep in your room upstairs and the men will be up after we finish our conversing.”

Eliza gave a weak smile. “Of course daddy,” she said. She kissed John and Alexander on the cheek, kissed her father on the forehead, and hugged her mother before walking up the stairs. She wrestled out of her dress and tossed it haphazardly in a chair in the corner before sinking into the mattress in her underclothes. As she laid on the bed, she wrestled with the pins in her hair, dropping them on the side table before blowing out the candle at her bedside.

She laid in the dark, the sounds of dinner conversation rising through the floors. Her Alexander’s voice piped up above the rest, boasting about his unborn son. From what she could hear, it seemed apparent that John agreed with him about the baby being a boy. Eliza couldn’t lie, she thought it was a boy as well.

Her eyes flitted shut as she heard the conversation dwindle down. Footsteps freaked up the stairs and candlelight glowed a soft yellow in the black night. “John, do not be ridiculous. You will spent the night with us. Why would you sleep in a guest bedroom?”

John stayed quiet as the dark brown door opened on its hinges. “We have no nightclothes.”

“It’s mid-July, John. We don’t need nightclothes. If it makes you uncomfortable, you can sleep in your nightclothes, as Eliza is.” John’s eyes fluttered over to Eliza, her sleeping form covered only by a thin cloud-white sheet and her underthings.

“If it is mid-July, why do you carry a scarf around?” he teased, a smirk shining from his lush pink lips to his blue eyes.

“As I told you, my dearest Betsey made it for me John. Should you decide to knit me a scarf, I will carry that around with me as well,” he shot back as he stripped his clothes, folding them and setting them on the floor beside Eliza’s dress. John followed suit and stood by the bed in underwear and his shirt, socks pulled to his knees. “Socks and a shirt to bed, John?” Alexander smirked.

John stripped off his shirt and threw it to the floor. “Is this better for you sir?”

Alexander’s eyes slowly took in every inch of John’s body. “Lose the socks and I’d give you a perfect score.”

John rolled his eyes and added his socks to the pile of clothing before climbing in bed, his chest breathing alongside Eliza’s. Alexander climbed in behind her and wrapped his arms around her, one hand sneaking beneath her body to rest on her flat stomach, the other reaching over her to pull John closer.

“John, come closer, my love.” Alexander grabbed his hand and set it beside his own on Eliza’s stomach. “You are as much a part of this as Eliza and I. Now come. Hold us.”

John’s body pressed gently against Eliza, his free hand reaching past Eliza to rest on Alexander’s hips. He pressed a gently kiss to Eliza’s forehead. “Rest easy, sweet Eliza.” His eyes fluttered closed. “Goodnight Alexander. Sleep well.”

“Goodnight John.” Alexander’s hand groped for the one John had resting on his hip. “I love you.”

He was met with near silence, the easy wind blowing through the trees outside. Eliza’s breathing was soft between him and John. He did not expect any sort of response, but he had never been one to hide his true intentions.

“Goodnight Alexander. I love you as well.”

Yes, I used the canon era descriptions of everybody. This is the first and only time I plan on it so you can just deal.

[3ros-on-ice]

Read☑️: 3.whatever - 4.7.17 (whoops I skipped some weeks)

Disclaimer: Nearly all of these entries are Explicit or Mature in nature; I will post the authors warnings when necessary…also I know my taste isn’t always on point. I’m fine with this.

Without further ado, fic recs under the cut.

Sunlight Hurts My Eyes by MooseFeels

Mature. Victuuri. 7195w. WIP. Alien!AU

Viktor leaves his homeworld for a job on Earth, and he meets Yuuri and– Yuuri is a curator at an art museum, and the new docent seems very interested in him.

It’s new, so I can’t really gush about it without spoil it. It’s turning out to be fun an interesting though, and I’m looking forward to seeing how it turns out.

The Return of the Little Piggy by SASS_QUEEN

Mature. Victuuri. 14,341w. WIP. Fashion & Couture!AU

Everybody had their regrets in college.

For the students, it was making fun of Katsuki Yuuri.

For Yuuri, it was letting himself become too stupid.

For Viktor, it was not doing anything.

_-_

Once there was a boy named Katsuki Yuuri, who was shy, loved to make clothes, had adorable smiles and was fatter than the usual average human being. Unfortunately for him, apparently being chubby wasn’t all that accepted in the norm back then. After numerous accounts of bullying, Katsuki Yuuri disappears for good.

Now years later, there is now a man only known as Y.K. Fashion tyrant, multimillionaire, professional cold-stare giver… and is trying his ultimate best to run away from his dark past, until a certain silver haired CEO of a certain rival company who went to the same certain college he went to back then decides to flat out entangle their fates together. Do both of them have anything to say for it? Sadly, no. No they don’t.

FASHION!AU FOR YOUR NERVES! 

 Hustled by Bad_Wolf

Mature. Victuuri. 16,357w. Complete. Urban Magic/Crime!AU

Victor Nikiforov is part of a group that scams and steals to make a living. Victor is often the lead on the scams that require a more…personal touch. This particular job requires to seduce one: Katsuki, Yuuri in order to scam him out of a recent billion dollar windfall. Not a big deal. Victor’s done this a million times, seduce-scam-scram. But one: Katsuki, Yuuri is much more charming and magnetic than Victor realizes. If this is fate, then it’s a shitty, fucked up type of fate that Victor definitely deserves, but one which Yuuri (sweet, bashful, kind, inexperienced) Katsuki does not. Ah well, c'est la vie! Yuuri’s lucky break is about to shatter right under Victor’s palm.

Look Fam, This is actually part 1 of the Smoke and Mirrors series, and it’s pretty goddamn good. I’m looking forward to the rest for sure.

Just Like a Stranger with Weeds in Your Heart by MooseFeels

Explicit. Victuuri. 22,188w. Complete. Omega!Verse

Viktor sees Yuuri and he knows, he knows, he knows.

Now, you all know how I feel about Omega!Verse fic, but this one is one of those sweet soft fics. Everything is bright and nothing hurts. Canon-compliant probably. 

Also shout out to @moosefeels for being really awesome.

Death of a Bachelor by exile_wrath

Teen. Victuuri. 19,676w. WIP. 20s Crime!AU

In which Victor is at the top of the (criminal) world, and ends up falling for the hot bartender that works at a Giacometti speakeasy.

Alternatively: In which Yuuri is a bartender with a thing for the hot patron which could probably kill him but also wants to have sex with him. To be fair, Yuuri is pretty down to sleep with him too.

But things don’t go as planned, sometimes, and rather than Victor finding someone to warm his bed for a night, he finds Yuuri, who offers him an intimacy and care that he had never thought he’d have. And in turn, Yuuri finds someone achingly lonely but willing to open his heart so they can both be together in a way they had only dreamed of.

Okay team, I’m here for this. It’s shadowy, but not dark. It’s built for the faint of heart. Enjoy.

We Are Lost, but We Are Not Gone by persephoneggsy

Mature. Victuuri. 20,201w. WIP. Dollhouse!AU

The Dollhouse deals in fantasy, but Victor Nikiforov just needs one night.

At least, until he finds himself wanting more. And it’s all because of Eros, the beautiful Active that’s consumed his every thought.

Super interesting! Extra excited for when this fic gets down into the nitty gritty.

How to Fly by FamousLastLines

Explicit. Victuuri. 8,034w. WIP. Hot Mess!AU

Call it fate, call it anything else. Ending up at infamous nightclub ‘The Palace’ was completely out of Yuuri’s control. Becoming further entangled in Detroit’s party scene, however, was less of an accident. As time goes on, even the neon lights of the club cannot conceal the dark reality that lurks just beyond the surface.

By the time Yuuri realizes the only direction left to go is down, he’s already standing at the ledge, lost to the sorry look in Victor’s eyes.

I identify with Yuuri in this fic mostly because I anticipate it will perfectly mirror the grand downward spiral of 19yo 3ros. (3ros is 23 and a vaguely functioning adult now.)

I Know Where My Heart Lies by Orro

Explicit. YuriYuu. 38,047w. WIP. Role-Reveral!AU

The day Yuuri Katsuki announces his retirement from competitive figure skating Yuri is forced to admit he has feelings that extend beyond rivalry. He’s been trying to knock Katsuki off his top spot on the podium for years. It’s not fair that he thinks he can retire and leave Yuri like this.

Victor’s dream has always been to skate on the same ice as his idol. Yuuri’s retirement throws a wrench into those plans but that’s okay; Victor is flexible enough for a layback Ina Bauer so he can totally work with this. Yuuri can be his coach instead.

Yuuri just wants to eat some katsudon and enjoy spending time at home after years away at competitions. He doesn’t need these Russians barging into his retirement. They’re interrupting a supposedly peaceful contemplation of what he’s going to do with the rest of his life.

[aka age swap au where Yuuri is the 27 year old legend, Yuri is the 23 year old rival, and Victor is the 15 year old newcomer.] 

Look, Aged Up!Yuri fics are dicey as fuck, but I’m okay with this mostly because Yuri’s entire character is 23. He’s not just aged up so that he and whoever can have sex. (I mean they do end up knocking boots, but that’s not the point of the fic.) Good job, fam.

Canoe-dling: Not Prohibited by shereadsthestars

Mature. Victuuri. 12,839w. Complete. Summer Camp!AU

Yuuri is a seasoned counselor at Camp Okenoko who thought he was in for just another run of the mill, shenanigan filled summer with his friends. But he could not have been more wrong as he’s inevitably blindsided by the newest arrival.

Enter one Viktor Nikiforov, who’s got the charms and good looks to woo whomever he pleases, and who’s interest is instantly peaked by none other than, Yuuri Katsuki.

This precious piece of fic. It’s a fun quick read to lighten up your existence. Get into it.

Singular by TrashKanForLife

Explcit. Victuuri. 7,226w. WIP. 50 Shades of Grey!AU

Yuuri fiddled with the hem of his sweater, overwhelmed by the sheer formality of this floor. He’s sure his favoured pair of sneakers only cover about twentieth of the costs for the workers’ footwear and he wonders if they pay the salon daily for their sharp appearances. Yuuri does not belong here.

“Mr. Nikiforov will see you now.”

Okay so that “50 Shades of Grey” may be a little off putting, (and this fic is pretty new,) but I’m into it so far. I’m holding out hope. Bring it. 

Separation Anxiety by Okaeri_Kairi

WARNING: Rape/Non-Con, Depictions of Violence

Explicit. Victuuri. 87,944w. WIP. Mafia!AU

Deep in the dark and unsettling back alleys of St. Petersburg, a network of crime rings and rival families makes up the heart of the mafia that runs the city’s underground. Of these, none is more feared than the Nikiforov family, an infamous group that is said to be led by a man of cold blood and steel. Viktor, the son of the previous boss, knows only too well just how frightening and unstable this man is.

He is, after all, married to him.

This is the main fic in the Haven series; go read all of them.

*Unintelligible screeching* This is a really good Mafia fic. I cry just thinking about it. I’m pretty sure this is right up their with Masquerade for fics that everyone and there grandmothers want all of their friends and their babies to read. if it’s not, IT FUCKING SHOULD BE.

Also she’s making a print version with extra scenes. You guys should look out for those preorders.

Lessons in Love by fangirlandiknowit

Mature. Victuuri. 30,842w. WIP. This is an AU I just don’t know how to ! this.

All Viktor wants is for his son to be happy - and if that means spending countless hours at the ice rink, a million more in the ballet studio, and devotedly cheering for Katsuki Yuuri at every competition he enters, then that is precisely what he’ll do.

He just didn’t expect to become a fan, too.

(He didn’t expect to fall in love.)

Team. TEAM. It’s cute and sweet, and bby!Yuri P. will melt your heart just like he did mine, damnit.

Starstruck by shizuoh

Teen. Victuuri. 58,955w. Complete. Single Dad!AU

“Hold my son for a moment,” says the Viktor Nikiforov, live in the flesh, sweaty and panting.

“Wha—” Yuuri can’t even begin to comprehend what’s going on before Viktor is gone, and there’s a child in his arms.

(in which yuuri is a simple barista, viktor is a famous movie star, and yuri is an 8 year old kid stuck in the middle of it.)

*In Tears* If i could just have the podium family as Viktur & Yuuri + Kid!Yuri. P I think I wouldn’t stop reading ever. like….EVER.

The Fastest Comet That Falls by lovefrompluto

Mature. Victuuri. 14,690w. Complete. Dancer!AU

Yuuri is a shy ballet dancer who is slowly disappearing. Someone starts sending him flowers after his shows.

Come through ballerino!Yuuri angst! Also, there are eating disorders involved, do with that what you will.

Tidal by wbtrashking(fan_nerd)

Mature. Victuuri. 11,428w. Complete. Mermaid!AU

Victor’s eyes linger on one of the photographs.

Maybe he’s been up too long, straining his eyes in the darkroom, but it seems that there’s a glimmering blue tail peeking out of the surface of the ocean. It’s too large to belong to any aquatic creature he recognizes.

His heart races as the chemicals make the picture clearer. It’s quite possible that Victor has captured something spectacular.

YOOOOO! It’s everything I ever wanted in a Mermaid!AU okay?

[shuuenka-writes]

Within the Gray Mist [1.]

Paring: Marufuji Ryo/Zane Truesdale x Reader

Summary:  [Dragon!AU] You were a village nobody, one of a many faces in the crowd. You’ve always thought your life will be simple and normal. But when you met a wounded dragon on one snowy day, everything you knew was challenged.

wordcount: 3520

pervious: [prologue.]

If there was anything you could say you liked about life, it’d be the routine.

Waking up everyday and doing what you were supposed to do. You liked your life that went without much haste, yet not dragging or being boring. You liked to be a part of a community you knew, where everybody had their place. There were people within your tribe that wished to be more, those special ones that could become shamans, healers, chivalrous worriors or beutiful dancers. You were none of them, you were neither exeptional or failure. Yet you were content with being just average. Average face within the mass, with average family and average skills, You never thought that you were less that anyone, you simply belived that if your fate was designed to be average, then you were fine with it.

But today was not like any other days, and that made you slightly nervous for a few reasons. Today was the Growing up Ceremony for the women of your tribe. For the last 18 years of your life you only watched the ritual of admitance to adultness and today came the day of your own. Your parents were overjoyed, your younger brother made fun of you and recommended you nice guys for a husband.

Growing up. You never thought the day of your ceremony would come. You had felt strange sense of enjoyment and nervousness as the tribe chief had handed you and the other girls a bow and a quiver with arrows. With a last blessing from the Shaman, you had split and had began your Ritual Hunt. For the ceremony to be compleated you had to bring a sacrifice to the shaman, a bird that you had to hunt on your own. You had time till the sunset.

You touched the talisman your mother gave with your slightly frozen fingers. A talisman put around your neck this morning fit perfectly in your hand. You looked at the circle symbolising a good luck charm and rubbed it. Bird's feathers attached to it fluttered on the icy wind, one from the owl for wisdom, one from a raven for creation.

You weren’t a superstitious person. Of course you belived and worshipped the gods, but you mostly thought that a human is responsible for his own path in life, and shouldn’t hide behing concepts such as fate or destiny. But today you guessed a little bit of a good luck won’t hurt anybody.

White mist flew every time you breathed out. The forest was uncharastically quiet, as if awaiting for what was to come. No matter how hard you tried to be as silent as possible, your steps disrupted calmness of the forest. Sudden blast of the wind chilled you to the bone, and with trembling fingers you adjusted your hood tighter. The silence broke with the snow falling from the branches.

It was trully a cold day.

The more you ventured into the forest, the weather worsened. At some point you realized that the snow started to fall. Everyone will have a hard time with the hunt this year, you thought.

A sound of somebody's steps creaking on the snow broke you from your thoughts. Quietly you looked towards the bottom of the canyon, just to see one of the girls lying on the snow. She quickly got up and dusted off herself. She saw you up above and gave you a wave. She showed you the bird she hunted and gave you a thumbs up. You waved back, smiled and turned around. The Silence of the Hunt was not broken.

You walked further, deciding you were right about to were to look for the bird. If there was anything you were slightly above average was archery. Still not enough to become a member of the Hunting Party of the tribe, but the hunt and its rules were not foreign to you. You understood the nature's paths and how it behaved. As the child of the lumberer you were familiar with the forest and its secrets.

You ventured on the small clearing on an ice cliff.

The sun was nowhere to be seen as the snow floated through the air. Yet you guessed it a little bit after the noon, making your hunt already three hours long. It wasn’t like you were rushing anywhere, there was plenty of time till the sunset. You didn't care whether you were first or last.

Further into the distance you could see a vague shape of a mountain. When the weather was nice, whole mountain shone on the horizon. You’d be able to see the sharp edges of the ice, in a shape of a sickle. Looking at the mountain, a shiver run through your skin. Since you could remember the Cold Mountain gave off a menancing aura. Everyone seemed to agree with you, as they worshipped it, and often begged for forgivness. The Shaman once told you that the eternal winter, that continues for the last hundred years within Daksina Lands was caused by the anger of the god from the Cold Mountain.

You looked away from the mountain and waited. A hour or so later, sudden movement caught your eye. A red and blue bird landed on a branch just above you, with a screech that resounded on the clearing. You smiled to yourself and slowly you took out an arrow. The bird looked at you curiously and held your gaze. It moved its head to the right and left and sat comfortably on a branch. Calmly you aimed at the bird. When the arrow swished through the air, the bird seemed to finally understand the situation as it took its last chance to escape. But the next second it fell on the snow leaving a red drops of blood on the white fluff.

You picked the bird up and fastened it to your belt with a piece of a string. You looked last time at the Cold Mountain and turned back. It was time to go back to the village. You wondered how many of you had finished the Hunt. It was still a lot of hours till the sunset, yet you knew almost everyone wished to finish the hunt much earlier.

You chose a different path that you used to get there. It was rather unused and not many people knew about it. Thanks to your father you were able to successfully find it. You liked this path, the trees were arranged in a portal with branches tangling above your head. You reached out your hand and with a small smile you touched each tree as you walked.

The path ended on a hummock covered with bushes. You breathed in the fresh air and looked towards the path leading to your village. Within two hours you'd be back there. But then you saw scattered snow and a few knacked bushes.

''Hmm...” you mused aloud. Maybe it was a bear or a deer. Blinking once again, to your surprise, you noticed a bluish liquid here and there. You crouched and dabbed at the drop. On an impulse you tasted it and immedately felt a burning sensation on your tounge. You coughed a few times to clear your throat form the pungent flavour. It didn't taste like anything you knew.

You looked at the path treaded by the strange creature. You wanted to turn back and walk towards your village. You finished your hunt, and had to make it back to the Shaman. The strange liquid didn't perk your curiosity. Quite the opposite – you felt dump in your stomach and sense of dread overwhelmed your body.

What if one of the girls were attacked by this strange being? Or it was trully just a bear that got better of a huntress. You wished you were as wise as your mother wanted you to when she gave you the talisman. But you couldn't leave another person in the cold. Not when you knew something bad happened.

If not you, nobody would follow the trail. It was the Silence of the Hunt. You had time till the sunset to come back, if you didn't, you were on your own in the forest. Nobody could enter till the next morning, nobody would look for you. You remembered the incident from two years ago, when your cousin hadn't come back. Next morning her parents found her nearly frozen to death, tangled in the trap for bears.She tried and finished the ceremony next year, but her leg never got fully healed.

That's why you couldn't just turn back and leave a person, perhaps one you knew, over there.

You rubbed the talisman once again, wishing for more of a good luck you ever needed, and followed the blue drops on the snow. Half an hour later the trail stopped. You looked up and your breath hatched in your throat. You tightened your grip on the bow as you measured up the creature before you.

It's snow white scales glistered with a blue liquid you found earlier. It laid in the snow, breathing out an icy air, that caused the bushes cover with a thick layer of ice. The blue blood, you guessed it must've been blood, pooled before its belly, where the flesh was torned with a spear sticking out of it. It must've hurt as hell. Its wings, now folded behind its back, were at least four meters long when stretched out. Its paws, twice as big as regular bear, digged into the ground. Its tails swooped the snow with a nervous move, making you take a step back.

You paled when you looked at the wounded creature, and stood still, uncertain of what to do. One thought rattled in your mind, naming the enormous being. The thought you wanted to dissmiss.

The nostrils breathed in, catching your scent on the wind, and within a second, its head turned to you. You met its gaze and shivered as blue, almost white, eyes narrowed.

A dragon, you had no longer denied the thought, growled at you. You slowly lowered yourself on your knees, just like your father taught you, and still continued to look into its eyes. The dragon tried to get up, but with a slightest move it moaned in pain.

Almost crawling, you brought out the bird and still bent on your knees you moved towards the dragon. You extended your hands with the bird and waited for the dragon move. You'll either live or die, there was no inbetween.

The dragon was just as wary of you, as you were of him. It smelled the prey and within one snap of his white teeth the bird was gone. The creature blinked at you and waited. You noticed it's eyes were slightly more blue, than before. You didn't know if it was a good sign or not, but it didn't growl at you anymore. You relaxed, as much as you could in given situation, and sighed clearing your mind.

People were right to fear dragons, even if they left the moutains. They were powerful, large and practically immortal. There was no use of denying the fact that they were frightening and could wipe out your small tribe with a single blow. No wonder humans hated and both feared them.

So what were you doing, giving one of them your offering to the gods, and still worrying about it's wound?

''Okay, Mr. Dragon,” you said quietly. The creature once again focused its eyes on you. ''I'm going to go for a while and I'll be back soon.”

It looked at you without moving an inch, and watched as you adjusted your quiver on your back. Twelve arrows, you counted. You had a vague idea of what to do with its wound, but first things first. Hungry animal, is bad animal, as you father would say jokingly. You weren't sure if you should consider a dragon an animal though.

Telling the dragon to not to move might be too much and you already pushed your luck, so you kept your mouth shut. When you were far enough to not alarm it you sped up and ran. You didn't waste your arrows on small birds, instead caught a few rabbits. In the distance you saw a roe, that searched for food in the snow. Bowstring stretched and two arrows swished through the air. The roe, unaware of anything, fell down.

A screech resounded in the air, a familiar screech. A ceremonial bird sat on the branch. You couldn't belive your luck as you shot yet another bird. Maybe you could finish your Ritual Hunting in the end.

You took your booty and walked back to the dragon. When you were at the place, you were sweating. You had to walk back twice, once for the roe and once for the rabbits. The dragon laid in the snow, stood up with a goarn and took a few steps towards you before collapsing agian.

''Ah, don't move,'' you breathed out. You fed it with the rabbits and the roe. It ate it within a span of few minutes, not leaving a single bone. You smiled nervously as you watched it licking its muzzle from the fresh blood. The dragon looked at the bird you had at your belt. You shook your head. ''I still need that.”

It blinked twice, measuring you and snapped it's teeth.

''I'm going to pull out that spear out.”

The dragon huffed at you and narrowed its eyes. Icy breath met your cheeks leaving a layer of frost on them. You smiled to him sympatheticly.

''I can't exactly take you to see the healer, can I?” you asked it. You had a hunch the dragon actually understood what you were speaking of, as it nodded a few long munites later.

You took a deep breath and walked towards the spear. You didn't know much about magical healing and you couldn't even do that, but you had some experience with wounds. You doubted that it would be enough to help enormous dragon with a hole in its belly, but today you were pushing your luck to the limits.

You took of your glowes and tightened your grip on the cold metal. The dragon kicked and roared. You messaged your arm where one of its fangs scratched your skin. You hissed when you felt blood on your fingers.

''Sorry!” you squeked, but still grasped the spear. You didn't know what happened to the dragon, but one thing was for sure, he wasn't hurt because of anyone from your tribe. That made you a little bit happier, simply because nobody of your kin did it. You knew it because nobody used a metal spears within the tribe.

You decided to do it quickly, as your mother used to when treating your injuries. You pulled the spear as fast as you could and threw it on the snow. The dragon swished its tail dangerously close to your head and howled in pain.

''It's done,” you spoke. Shining white eyes glared at you and the dragon once again laid down. Both of you were breathing heavily. You looked up and saw the darkening sky, and now you were sure you won't be able to come back to the village back before the sunset, even if you had had your offering.

You looked at the dragon and noticed it had its eyes closed. You wondered how to treat its would, you couldn't just sew it up. You doubted you could find an needle this large, or thread stong enough. You weren't sure about an infection, you didn't have much of an medical education in your life. All you could hope for, was that the would would heal itself.

The forest began to darken, and the temperature lowered. You couldn't stay here, maybe your parents won't look for you in the night, but surely they will in the morning. With the whole Hunting Party that would not overlook a trail. And you were sure as heck that they'd gladly help the dragon to go to the other side. You had to go back to the village.

''I'll be back in the morning,'' you said to the white dragon, but you didn't know if it heard you. One thing you weren't worried about, was that it wouldn't freeze to death in the night. Ice dragons weren't afraid of snow.

You took off and ran as fast as you could. Forest by day was your friend, you didn't want to know if it could became your enemy by the night. The sun was long gone when you finally reached the village. Your parents, and your brother waited by the gates with the Shaman ans the Chief.

You looked at frightened faces of your parents, that washed over with relief when they hugged you close.

''Were have you been?” your mother asked, wiping off tears from her eyes.

''I'm sorry,” that was all you could say. You looked over the Shaman and the Chief. They shook their heads.

''The ceremony is over,” the Shaman said curtly. He was quite a tall men, with wise eyes that could pierce one's soul. You looked at your feet, you felt a little bit dissapointed, that in the end you weren't able to do it.

The Chief sighed and told you to go home, he patted your shoulder and said that you will try next year. He went back to his home leaving you with the Shaman.

''It could be worse,” your brother, Melys, said.

''Like what?” you asked, ignoring piercing gaze of the Shaman.

''You could got eaten by the bear,” he offered with a grin. His eyes, in the same colour as yours, sparkled, reflecting the fire that burned on the torch. He was twelve years old, yet was a mischivious as a young fox.

''You little...!” you ruffled his head. You couldn't help but think at how close to the truth he was.

''_____, where have you been?” the Shaman interrupted. He was standing with crossed arms.

''Give her a rest, Doeth,” your mother scolded. There was one little detail about the Shaman you usually overlooked, he was your mother's brother, making him your uncle. In your mother's family magic was in their veins. Even Melys had it, and you wouldn't be surprised if he was chosen as another Shaman in the future. Your uncle loved Melys, and was his mentor. You were sure he loved you too, but perhaps he was a little dissapointed that the firstborn of a family with a long history of magic users had no talent to it.

''_____?” he asked again, with more pressure in his voice.

''I couln't find the bird,” you lied. He narrowed his eyes at you. It was a lame excuse, but it was better that the other one you prepared when you run back. Telling him, that the daughter of a lumberer got lost in the forest would be a little bit too much.

He didn't really belive you, but he nodded his head under your mothers glare. He reached his hand and waited for you to give him the bird. You did as he wished. Your hands made a contact and the Shaman froze. His eyes turned white as he started to chant in a language you didn't understand.

He had a vision.

Nobody moved, nobody dared to even breath as the Shaman had his vision. As a child you witnessed a few of his visions, and everytime it countinued to frighten you. Even now you were unnerved and flinched when he finnaly came back to his senses.

''What did you see?” your father asked quietly, letting the Shaman lean on him. Always after the vision he was exhausted. He looked straight at you, and you felt like a roe caught in a trap.

''I saw a white dragon...'' he said slowly, each word spoken carefully. You froze on the spot. ''...on a field of hydrageneas... in chains.”

He didn't mean the white dragon you've met, did he? That one wasn't in chains, and you didn't see any hydrageneas anywhere. You weren't sure they bloomed in the Daksina Lands anyway. No. You calmed yourself down, it could be any other dragon.

''Let's go, Doeth,” your mother said a minutes later. ''You'll wonder about the vison later. It's night already!”