#High End Wedding Fairs

[miiversian]

randomly feel like going scorched earth with vchuuber fanart now. lol ! (disclaimer this is a 4 am post, mostly stemming off me realizing im losing my old passion & interest in the funny vee chuubers)

its mostly just cause i was more interested in their personas' lore than the actual streams/streamer in the first place... so seeing everyone get excited and hype over big events and me not being able to share that hype anymore (mostly due to my oshi retiring & the big group dynamic changing) has been crazy alienating

tldr never interact with a big fanbase worst mistake of my life. the discourse is fucking crazy lmao

[chubby-bun-bun]

heavy is the crown

As princess, you are bound by duty to marry the notorious and elusive Onichynus general, in exchange for his protection of your kingdom from an impending war. On the night of your wedding, tradition demands that you undergo the consummation rites, sealing the fate of your marriage—and your future.

tags: sylus x reader, NSFW, MDNI, royalty!au, general-of-powerful-nation!sylus x princess-of-kingdom-in-trouble!reader, first time sex (mc is a virgin), unprotected sex, afab!reader, fem!reader, slight voyeurism & somno & cockwarming at the end, lowkey breeding kink, gender-based stereotypes against women due to the time period, writing this has been a fever dream, word count: 2.7k~ worldbuilding and 5.5k~ smut lmfao

read on ao3

You dared to dream once upon a time.

You dreamt of crossing oceans beyond your shores, sailing aboard majestic galleons you’d only seen in textbooks. In the quiet solitude of your bedchambers, you imagined laughing with the townsfolk of distant cities, dancing in cobblestone streets to the melodies of traveling minstrels, and finding love in a modest man who'd want nothing more than to offer you freshly picked blooms every morning.

In the sanctuary of sleep, your dreams would lull you with visions of a simple life. A stone-walled kitchen warmed by the glow of a crackling hearth, a garden vibrant with blossoms and fresh produce, and a cozy reading nook nestled in an arched window. A loyal companion would sometimes join you—a slothful cat, a melodious songbird, a high-spirited pup, or a darling mare to carry you through grassy plains and wildflower fields.

"Do you take this man to be your wedded husband, to share in life's trials and joys, to love and honor, till death do you part?"

But such dreams have no place in the heart of a woman whose shoulders bear her kingdom's fate.

And so, as you take in the muted glow of the setting sun through delicate ivory lace, you finally put those girlhood fantasies to rest.

“I do.”

—

Being the youngest and only princess came with its fair share of trials and triumphs.

Unlike the elder princes, whose lives revolved around grueling expectations and fierce competition for the throne, your position spared you such burdens. Born to a queen who had long believed her childbearing years were behind her, you were nothing short of a miracle, arriving over a decade after your last sibling. This had earned you the undivided affection of the entire castle, leaving you thoroughly indulged and doted upon.

However, growing up without siblings near your age, you often grappled with bouts of loneliness. While you had fostered polite acquaintances among the daughters of many nobles, you found their company wearisome. The endless succession of balls and garden parties always seemed to revolve around the same gossip: politics, fashion, whispers about some baron’s sixteen-year-old daughter betrothed to a forty-year-old viscount, and, of course, the inevitable question: had anyone received a marriage proposal yet?

You naturally had many—to your dismay.

The idea of marriage filled you with profound dread. As a girl tagging along in your mother’s tea parties, you had often overheard the confessions and lamentations of the noblewomen. Stories of infidelity, neglect, and abuse spilled from their lips—duchesses, marchionesses, and countesses; women who stood at the very summit of high society. To you, marriage seemed less a sacred bond and more a cruel sentence—one far grimmer than the gallows.

At least the gallows granted the mercy of a quick death.

But as a princess, you were bound to uphold the ideal image of a young lady. One who radiated beauty, yet with grace and poise. Intelligent, but subservient to your intended husband’s authority. And, most important of all, fertile—to bear him strong sons who would carry on his legacy.

It sickened you. You would rather succumb to the plague than endure such a miserable life. But given your title, you could only try to delay the inevitable.

And so, life continued as it was—a never-ending cycle of social gatherings, fending off suitors, reading through your library, mastering languages, and nurturing a growing collection of hobbies. It was a life of privilege and routine—one that, despite its predictability, offered you a quiet sense of fulfillment.

Alas, nothing holds constant in the world, and change arrived in the form of a looming war from enemies across the sea.

Though small in size, your kingdom of Noir was a veritable treasure trove. With its abundant mountains and rivers, the island was never in short supply of precious metals, gems, and rare minerals. It was renowned for producing the finest artisans, who crafted the most exquisite jewelry, armor, and weapons. While modest in territory, it more than compensated with a thriving and prosperous economy.

The ultimate conquest for any conqueror.

Through the town streets worn smooth by centuries of footfalls, the bustling plazas lined with charming merchant stalls, the outskirt villages tucked among lush woodlands, and even the weathered stone walls of the towering castle, whispers had always flowed like an unrelenting tide—the most persistent being rumors of the neighboring kingdoms readying to seize Noir at any moment. But your father never addressed such hearsays, and life within the island always seemed as jovial and peaceful as it always did.

Until one night, as you sat engrossed in some book about Noir folklore, a series of sharp knocks on your chamber doors shattered the stillness, echoing sharply through the room.

It was your father, the king. Dropped to his knees, grasping your untainted hands in his rough, weathered ones, head bowed down at your mercy.

“Forgive me, my daughter,” he said in grief. “For the sake of the people—please, forgive me.”

For months, naval scouts had reported sightings of warships at the docks of two neighboring kingdoms, suspected of plotting to raid Noir and usurp the throne. Only a few weeks ago, those suspicions were confirmed when spies returned with dire news. The enemy militaries, vast and far stronger than your own, were preparing for a siege. Noir's true power had always been in the arts and commerce, not in its military might. Should your shores be attacked by an enemy nation—let alone two—the island would fall.

So on the very day the confirmation arrived, your father and the high court conspired to seek assistance from a nation on the mainland: Onichynus.

Conversations about the state were always hushed, spoken in whispers and laden with caution. It was rumored to be an immensely powerful dominion, even surpassing that of the hostile forces looming beyond your shores. Drunk sailors boasted of its staggering wealth, built on the spoils of their wars and ceaseless conquest. With an unmatched army of hardened warriors and mercenaries, it stood as a force to be reckoned with, its presence both feared and revered across the seas.

At its pinnacle stood their elusive general, a shadow whose name and true face remained unknown. Tales from sailors, traveling merchants, and tavern songs painted him as a ruthless figure, demon-like, who laid waste to rotten cities and beheaded corrupt kings. Some claimed he was a hero, purging the realm of wicked men in power, while others saw him as the embodiment of evil, leaving destruction and death in his wake.

Negotiations with Onichynus were a success. In return for their protection during the impending siege, Noir pledged to deliver three ships laden with its most prized metals, minerals, and gems—every year for the next century.

But to ensure Noir upheld its end of the bargain, their beloved princess would be bound in marriage to the general.

You could only keep your gaze steady, chin held high, as the king knelt before you, weeping, begging for your forgiveness.

You had your time to relish the pleasures of living as a princess. Now, it was time to fulfill your duties as one.

—

The night before the long-anticipated siege had arrived. After weeks of frantic planning and tense negotiations between Noir’s high court and the Onichynus war council, warriors and mercenaries had taken their positions across the island. Some blended seamlessly with the civilians, while the majority remained hidden in plain sight, their numbers concentrated along the docks.

In the king’s throne room, select members from both factions gathered for final preparations. Clad in his battle regalia, your father seemed a shadow of his former self—skin ashened, eyes hollow with exhaustion—yet his voice remained firm as he issued his commands to all present.

The Noir court members could hardly conceal their unease under the watchful eyes of the Onichynus war council. Towering and broad-shouldered, they seemed almost otherworldly. Their dark, burnished steel armor bore engravings of monstrous creatures, and many donned cloaks of crimson or black, their edges deliberately singed to resemble fire's touch. Helmets, adorned with jagged horns, cast grotesque shadows, while those who forwent them revealed faces with jagged streaks of war paint, as if to mimic claw marks.

Then, the heavy doors groaned open, spilling thick tendrils of black-red mist into the chamber. A hush fell as all eyes turned toward the towering figure that emerged from the haze.

The general.

For all the whispered tales of his demonic appearance—horns as tall as claymores, wings that spanned the heavens, and a tail that stretched like a river—you were stunned to find a face not of a monster, but of an angel.

Against the backdrop of his dark cloak, his striking silver hair stood out in sharp contrast. His features were sculpted with precision—high, defined cheekbones, a strong jawline, a straight nose, all framed by an expression that revealed little, save for full lips drawn into a tight line. The people of Noir gawked openly, stunned to finally see the man from the tales in the flesh. His gait was languid yet exuded confidence as he strode toward the throne where you sat beside your father.

His gaze found yours, and you stilled.

The deep scarlet of his eyes was piercing. You almost felt naked under it. Instantly, you straightened in your seat, fingers twitching to smooth the fabric of your dress.

“Expect the warships to be visible in six hours,” he said, his voice cutting through the room. The low timbre of it sent a chill racing up your spine.

“General, are you certain our forces are enough to handle their fleet?” your mother asked, voice quivering as she addressed him from your father’s other side.

The general's lips curved faintly, a low, rumbling chuckle escaping him.

“Rest easy, Your Majesty. By dawn, their remains will have joined their forefathers’ ghosts beneath the sea."

—

You had come to realize that Onichynus truly deserved the fear and respect it commanded. Just before daybreak, the gut-wrenching blare of Noir’s watchtower horns finally shattered the unnerving stillness of the island.

The enemies had fallen.

You had been locked away in one of the castle’s tower chambers, away from harm’s reach. As the kingdom’s key to securing this alliance, it was critical that no harm befell the general's betrothed.

After the second wave of victory horns, your door creaked open, revealing your maidservant—frantic, breathless from the long climb up the spiral staircase.

“Your Highness,” she gasped, voice trembling. “We’ve won.”

You could see the restraint in the way her nails dug into her apron, her blown pupils amidst her ragged breaths. She was restraining herself, her elation held in check, out of deference to you.

After all, Noir’s freedom had come at the cost of yours.

With a wistful smile, you turned toward the window, watching the flickering torchlights snake through the streets below. The chorus of jubilant cries and chants carried through the valleys, their voices rising to the heavens and echoing back from the mountain’s deepest crevices.

“It seems we have,” you murmured, voice barely audible over the chorus of celebration below.

You heard her hesitant shuffle behind you. "Several of the servants have been briefed already. They shall be ready tomorrow morning to begin preparations for the wedding."

You spun toward her, pulse pounding in your ears. "So soon?"

She lowered her gaze, unable to meet your eyes. "Onichynus wanted to complete the rites as quickly as possible, so they could sail for the mainland the following day."

You let out a slow exhale. "I see."

Your maidservant hesitated, her eyes flicking toward you, before she spoke again.

"If it offers you any comfort, ma'am," she said softly, head bowed, "you saved all of us."

You swallowed hard, forcing back the sting of tears threatening to spill.

—

Like your mother, grandmother, and all the royal women before you, you had always envisioned your wedding as a day of grandeur. You pictured riding through the town streets in the royal carriage, flanked by guards, waving to the cheering crowds. You imagined wearing a bespoke gown that sparkled in the light, a train so long it would sweep behind you like a royal procession.

You imagined trumpets announcing your arrival, their triumphant notes echoing through a hall packed with dignitaries and nobility from across the realm. And at the altar, a man of honor and equal standing would wait for you, his gaze warm with affection as you joined in a union built on love, not duty.

But now—the sun has nearly set, painting the grand temple in muted amber light. Inside, the space feels hollow, adorned only by a few hurriedly arranged flowers, their disarray a testament to the servants' exhaustion from cleaning up the siege’s destruction. Your gown, though lovely, is no custom-made masterpiece—just a window display piece hastily altered by the royal dressmaker. The pews stand mostly empty, save for your crestfallen family, a handful of somber faces from the Noir high court, and the ever-stoic Onichynus war council.

Your husband-to-be, still clad in his dark battle regalia, stands steadfast at your side, his expression an impenetrable mask as the archbishop intones the ceremonial rites. You had imagined him to be someone hard to look at—perhaps as old as a grandfather, his years as a general etched into every line of his face, and his figure weighed down by indulgent vices. Yet, to your quiet relief, he is nothing of the sort. Even if he proves unsavory as a husband or father to your future children, at least he’s pleasing to look at.

“By the will of fate, you are now bound in union,” the High Priest finally says, raising his palms toward you both. “May your allegiance to one another be as steadfast as the duties you carry, and may this union bring the future of your realms to prosperity.”

—

You wince as an elderly maidservant struggles to loosen a particularly stubborn knot in your hair, the pull jerking your head painfully. She pauses, her hand gently patting the spot in apology.

Your gaze stays fixed on the cold, flatstone floor, and you hardly notice the other maidservants bustling around you. One smooths out the faint creases in your satin nightdress, while another tugs at the neckline, pulling it lower to expose more of your cleavage and collarbone. Beneath the thin fabric, your undergarments have been removed, leaving you vulnerable to the biting chill of the room. You’ve been scrubbed clean, coated in the silkiest lotions, each scent more intoxicating than the last—all for your first night with your new husband.

“Are you nervous, Your Highness?” the elderly maidservant asks, her hands gentle as she brushes through your hair.

You pause, the question settling in your chest as you ponder how to answer.

“I can’t say I’m confident,” you say, twisting your fingers together. “I’ve never been with a man before.”

In the mirror, you catch the discreet glances exchanged behind you, their pity and concern barely hidden. You force yourself to look away, but the weight of their silent judgment lingers.

“The Onichynus general… he seemed like such a massive man,” a younger maidservant whispers, her voice tinged with uncertainty. “I do hope he treats Her Highness with kindness.”

Another maidservant scoffs, her tone sharp with bitterness. “All men are beasts, driven only by their lust for control—and for anything with a pair of breasts.”

There’s a collective hiss of disapproval from the others, but the harsh words still echo in your mind. You fight to keep your face composed, though your heart aches with fear.

“Don’t worry, Your Highness,” the elderly maidservant says, her voice light. “The men from that state may be known for their ruthlessness, but with your likeness, the general will surely find himself a changed man.”

You can only hope the same.

Soon after, you begin your walk to the matrimonial room. The maidservants fall in step around you, their presence a quiet shield.  The lively chatter from your earlier preparations has faded, replaced by a tense, almost somber silence. Despite the considerable distance between rooms, the walk feels too short, each step too swift. Before you can fully gather your bearings, you now find yourself alone, sitting on the bed, the weight of the night settling in around you.

You shouldn’t feel this nervous. Women across the realm are bound to face this, especially those of royal blood. Consummation on the wedding night is an expectation, a duty. No matter how much you’ve dreaded or tried to avoid it, you’ve always known it was inevitable. All that’s left now is to steel yourself, strive to please your husband, and to embrace your role as a future mother—for Noir’s sake.

The doors swing open, and you flinch. The general steps inside, his damp hair clinging to his face, a clear sign of a recent bath. His attire for the evening is simple: loose trousers and a tunic that, despite its modesty, does little to hide the breadth of his shoulders or the strong lines of his chest. Your gaze betrays you, lingering longer than it should, tracing the way the fabric shifts with his movements. His towering height seems to diminish even the vast expanse of the room, making the high ceilings feel incredibly small.

His ember-like eyes catch yours and you suddenly feel too exposed.

“Good evening, princess.” 

“General,” you greet, wincing at how weak it sounds as it leaves your lips.

His gaze sweeps over you, lingering on the curve of your shoulders beneath the delicate straps of your ivory nightdress, the soft swell of your breasts pressing gently against the neckline. The fabric cinches at your waist before flaring out around your hips, emphasized by the way you sit at the edge of the mattress. Your posture is rigid, hands clasped in your lap—a result of all the etiquette drilled into you from childhood.

He notices the tension in your form and lets out a sigh, turning toward the couch at the far end of the room.

You blink.

“Where are you going?” you blurt out, brows furrowed in confusion.

“Your Highness,” he drawls, settling into the couch with a lazy grace. “We don’t have to do this. You look like a kitten with her hackles raised. We could ruffle the bedding, spill some oil on the sheets, and pretend we had a night worthy of the chamberlain’s inspection.”

A flash of panic rises within you. You stand, words tumbling out in a rush. “Nonsense! Marriage is not recognized before the temple unless consummated on the night of the ceremony.”

He tilts his head, a faint smirk playing at the corners of his lips. “Such peculiar customs you have here on Noir.”

You had imagined a thousand ways this night could go, a thousand versions of the man you’d just married. Not one of them prepared you for this.

You flush, frustration building in your chest. “General, I would appreciate it if you respect the customs of Noir. We are a proud people, and we honor the traditions passed down to us by our forefathers.”

He rolls his eyes. Then, with a slow, deliberate pace, he stands and makes his way toward you. For every step he takes, you fight the instinct to hunch your shoulders, to shrink away. Next thing you know, he’s standing before you, his imposing size forcing you to tilt your head back to maintain your gaze.

“You’re shaking,” he murmurs, gently cupping your face. The heat of his touch burns through your skin, sending a shiver down your spine.

You finally avert your eyes. “I’ve never been with a man before,” you manage to say with as much indifference as you can muster, nails digging into your palms.

“Really? Not even a stolen kiss in your youth?”

You clench your teeth. “There are far more pressing matters to focus on than indulging in childish flirtations.”

He laughs, a rich, deep sound that resonates through the air, stirring an unexpected warmth low in your belly.

“Alright,” he concedes, his finger tracing a slow path along your cheek. Without warning, he grips your jaw, the touch both commanding and tender, pulling your gaze back to meet his. “But if we’re doing this, we’re doing it my way. None of those absurd rules from your royal handbook.”

You pull back slightly, brows knitting in confusion. “The act is the same, is it not?”

“Do you agree, Your Highness?” he presses, lips grazing your ear ever so slightly. The warmth of his breath against your skin is unfamiliar, and the rush of heat that sweeps up your neck sends electrifying pulses deep within your core.

“Yes,” you grit out.

After studying your expression one last time, he lowers himself slightly, then grips the back of your thighs and lifts you with ease. You gasp, scrambling to find your balance. Your arms instinctively wrap around his neck, fingers digging into the firm, broad muscles of his shoulders. With a smooth shift, he adjusts your position, the inside of your thighs pressing against his hips, before carrying you to the vanity desk at the center of the room.

You struggle to speak, words caught in your throat as the sensation of being so high up in the air makes you dizzy. He finally sets you down on the desk, his large palms slowly dragging down your legs, gently pushing your knees apart.

“G—General,” you stammer, eyes wide as he pulls his tunic over his head, revealing a tanned expanse of skin and the hard, defined muscles beneath. “The bed is over there—why are we here?”

A flicker of a smile plays at his lips as he tosses the fabric carelessly to the floor. “Trust me, princess. Now close your eyes.”

You want to argue, remind him that asking you to trust the most notorious figure in the realm—whom you’ve barely known for a day—is no small request. But the gravity in his scarlet gaze quiets any protest. With a reluctant breath, you close your eyes.

There’s no movement at first. Then, his calloused palms find your knees, the rough calluses a stark contrast against the smooth stretch of your skin. Heat blossoms under his touch, searing its way upward as his hands glide along the curve of your hips, the taper of your waist. You fail to suppress the shudder coursing through you when his touch pauses just below the swell of your breasts, lingering for a heartbeat before sliding to your sides, his broad palms more than spanning the width of your back.

Then, you feel the faint brush of his breath against your mouth, a fleeting warmth before his lips capture yours in a tender kiss. The hot, wet sensation has your back arching instinctively, your hardened nipples pressing through the thin fabric of your nightgown against his hard chest. A deep, throbbing ache pulses at your core, and you clamp your thighs together in a futile effort to suppress the damp heat pooling between them.

The overwhelming rush of sensations draws a whimper from your lips, your trembling hands clutching at his shoulders for stability. His response is immediate—a low, guttural groan before he deepens the kiss, his mouth returning to yours with even more fervor.

You’ve read about kissing in your sparse collection of romance novels, tried to envision the mechanics behind the act. But the mental images always fell short, awkward and unappealing, leaving you unconvinced of its charm. You’d dismissed it as unnecessary, even pointless—especially when it came to something as pragmatic and straightforward as sex.

But now the general is sneaking in the hot, wet glide of his tongue between your lips and you panic, not sure what it is he’s doing and what you’re supposed to do. He must sense your uncertainty, because his large hand moves to steady your jaw and nape, holding you in place. When he feels the accidental brush of your tongue, he wastes no time and sucks at it, the lewd sound echoing in your ears, forcing soft, strangled sounds from your throat.

You no longer feel the seeping chill from outside the castle walls, body now feeling like it’s on fire, the wetness dripping from your entrance sliding down your inner thighs. You feel like you’re drunk and about to pass out, so you push his chest back with a gentle palm.

“General,” you say, heaving through swollen lips. “What… what are we doing? The bed…”

He takes a moment to steady his breath, eyes squeezed shut, palms pressing firmly at your waist. Then, a low, rough chuckle rumbles from his chest.

“You’re infuriatingly naive,” he mutters, his sweat-damp forehead resting against your shoulder. “You must be the only woman of all arranged marriages eager to crawl into bed with a man she barely knows.”

You flush, indignant at the implication behind his words. “What are you trying to say?” you demand, mouth unconsciously forming into a pout.

He pulls back just enough to meet your gaze, his thumb brushing gently over your lower lip. “What I’m saying, princess, is let me take care of you. I don’t know what your upbringing has taught you, but there’s more to this than just... getting it over with.”

You’re not used to being told what to do and deviating from the rules, so you force out a sharp “fine”—an unintended display of bratty defiance, considering the man before you. But he only laughs, and to your dismay, the sound makes him even more handsome than he already is.

“Hold on,” he murmurs, lifting you by your bottom this time, pressing you flush against his chest. His hands on your backside—so close to where you’re throbbing and wet—has you flinching forward. You suddenly feel the brush of something firm against the sensitive nub above your slit, and you jerk again in surprise.

He chuckles, before gently lowering you onto the soft expanse of the mattress. His lips find your collarbone first, then trail down to your nipples, where he suckles through the fabric. A soft whimper escapes you, your fingers curling into the sheets. You can feel his smile against your skin as his tongue sweeps over one of your sensitive buds, before continuing its journey down toward your abdomen.

But then he hovers his face above your groin that’s barely concealed by the bunched-up hem of your nightgown. Alarm jolts through you, and you prop yourself up on your elbows, torso rising instinctively. You attempt to close your legs, but his hands hold them firmly apart. 

“General—”

“Sylus,” he interrupts, lips brushing along the inside of your knee. “We’re married now, sweetheart. Use my name.”

A twisted sense of pride coils within you, knowing you hold both the name and face of the most infamous man in the realm.

You hesitate, swallowing the lump in your throat before continuing. “Sylus,” you echo, the name oddly satisfying on your lips. “Not that I’m… doubting your expertise, but is all of this really necessary?”

He exhales heavily, saying nothing at first. Then, he takes your hand—its size utterly lost in his grip—and guides it down your body. His movements are deliberate, stopping only when your palm meets the undeniable hardness of his cock, straining against his trousers.

You struggle to contain the jumbled stutters tumbling from your lips. “What are you—”

“I’m a big man,” he states matter-of-factly, his gaze unwavering. “And this is your first time. As you are now—you won’t be able to handle me.”

You don’t fully understand what he means, but the statement silences you nonetheless.

He chuckles, letting go of your hand, and you immediately pull it back to your chest. “May I?” he asks, his voice low as he hovers below you once again.

You flash a glare, before nodding reluctantly.

A smirk tugs at his lips as he leans back, his gaze shifting downward to the space between your legs. Slowly, he lifts the hem of your dress, inch by inch, until the cool air brushes against your exposed skin. You watch, eyes heavy, fighting the tremors rushing through you, as his hand moves along the inside of your thigh. When his fingers brush against your folds, a sharp exhale escapes you, and your head falls back onto the mattress.

“You’re so sensitive, princess,” he murmurs, amusement lacing his words.

“Shut up and get on with it,” you snap, covering your eyes with your forearm.

You hear a quiet laugh escape him before two fingers press against the sensitive nub above your folds, sending a shock of pleasure through your body. Your back arches instinctively as he slides his fingers up and down against your entrance. The motion, slick and sinful, leaves you gasping, and you struggle to keep your legs open, body trembling from the unfamiliar pleasure.

Sylus’ eyes darken, flicking between the way his fingers tease your slick folds and the way your breasts strain against your dress. His breathing grows heavier as he reaches up, pulling the neckline down to expose your chest. A soft whine escapes you when his hand cups one swell, firm yet gentle, while the other continues its relentless ministrations below.

“I’m pressing one in, alright?” he murmurs.

You barely register the words before he pushes a thick finger past your folds.

“Wait—it feels—ngh—it’s strange,” you stammer, voice hitching on a whine.

He stills immediately, digit only halfway in. “Does it hurt?”

“I… kind of? I don’t know…”

You’re panting. The pressure is peculiar, and quite unpleasant. Your body tenses at the newness of it, the unfamiliar stretch bordering on discomfort.

He remains patient, finger unmoving. Then, you feel his thumb press on your nub, drawing gentle circles against the sensitive lower hood of it. The obscene sound of slickness fills the space and you’re mortified, toes curling at the wave of arousal soaking his hand.

“This better?” he whispers, drinking in every detail—your heaving chest, the sheen of sweat on your skin, the tremor in your thighs, and the glistening mess pooling between them.

You can’t respond, overwhelmed by the spiraling pleasure.

A chuckle rumbles from him, low and pleased, as he presses the rest of his finger inside. This time, it slides in smoothly, and the high-pitched moan that escapes you is muffled by your trembling palm. Now knuckle-deep, he gently strokes upward, pressing on a rough spot that makes you jerk in his hold.

“I’m going to try something, alright?” he says softly, breath brushing against your knee as he plants a tender kiss.

“Okay,” you croak, struggling to process the pulsing sensations building deep inside you.

The circles on your nub stop, and you almost whimper at the loss. But before you can voice your complaints, something warm, wet, and utterly foreign replaces his thumb. Your head snaps back, a raw, choked cry tearing from your lips.

“General—hah—Sylus… What are you—?”

He doesn’t answer. Dazed, you prop yourself up and the sight before you is almost too much: the most powerful man in the realm, kneeling between your legs, his mouth worshiping you with unrelenting fervor. His tongue laps at your folds, drags it languidly up to your engorged nub before closing his lips around it, sucking in a way that sends sharp, electric pulses straight through your core.

Panicked by the unbearable pressure building inside, you try to push his head away. “Stop—it’s strange, I feel like I’m going to—”

Before you can finish, he slides another finger inside, stretching you further. His fingers curl, stroking that spongy spot with unrelenting precision. His mouth works in tandem, alternating between suckling and lapping at your overstimulated nub.

Tears blur your vision as the intensity peaks. You scream into your palms, hips bucking against his mouth and hand as you feel yourself tip over the high he brought you to.

Sylus watches, entranced, as your legs open wider, cries muffled as your body convulses under his ministrations. Even as you shatter under him, he doesn’t let up, prolonging your fall at his mercy. And when you’re finally sent over the edge, your release flooding his eager mouth, he drinks in the sight of you—flushed, trembling, and utterly spent.

He presses his cheek against your inner thigh, feeling the delicate tremors rippling through your body as you struggle to steady your breathing. His eyes trail over your folds, soft and swollen, slightly parted as your essence continues to glisten and drip. Unable to hold back, he dips his head and presses a slow, deliberate kiss, groaning as your intoxicating taste lingers on his lips.

Your cry pierces the air, hands flying to his hair as you tug with desperation. “W—Wait…! I can’t… it’s too much… please…”

He only chuckles, low and teasing, before placing a final kiss on the sensitive nub above your folds. Then, he moves upward, settling his weight against you. His chin rests between your breasts, arms locking yours in place as his eyes meet yours, heat and satisfaction dancing in his gaze.

As clarity slowly returns, the enormity of what just happened hits you. He—the Onichynus general, a man who strikes fear in nations across the realm—had just laved at your most intimate area with his tongue. Such an act is nowhere to be found in the guides you’ve read on sex, not even as a distant suggestion. And yet, you enjoyed it. Far more than you care to admit.

An embarrassed huff escapes you as heat blooms across your face. You throw your hands up to cover it, unwilling to meet the insufferable smugness you can practically feel radiating from him below.

Suddenly, you feel the neckline of your dress being tugged down again, catching beneath your breasts. Then, you feel the flat of his tongue gently press on a nipple, circling it with the tip before pulling it into his mouth to suckle. His hand slides up to your other bud, palm brushing over it in slow, deliberate motions. Breasts are meant to nourish, to sustain future generations—mere vessels for the creation of life. Yet the hairs at the back of your neck raise on end as you feel the return of the persistent pulsing deep within you. You bite your lip, stifling the sounds threatening to escape, back arching as you desperately chase the sensation of his mouth on you.

“We can stop now if you wish, Your Highness,” he murmurs against your skin.

Fighting the heaviness taking over your body, you grab his jaw, forcing him to meet the fire in your gaze. “Do you have a problem with consummating with me, general?”

He responds with a particularly sharp suck at your nipple.

“Ngh—! Sylus! I meant Sylus!” you cry out, correcting yourself with a gasp.

He smiles, a mischievous glint in his eyes, before moving to the soft curve of your breast. His mouth alternates between harsh sucking and teasing bites, leaving a trail of bruised blooms in his wake.

“While intercourse may be a mere formality to you Noir people, in Onichynus, it’s an act of passion and love,” he says, voice low as he shifts to giving attention to your other bud. “I wish to ensure that Her Highness, my wife, has a memorable first experience. So, if you feel spent for the night, we can always stop. At any time.”

His words settle deep inside you and you feel warmth spread in your chest. Perhaps Onichynus is more than the tales of its ruthless reputation, after all. Hesitantly, you caress his cheek, heart aching at the way he closes his eyes and nuzzles into your palm. He almost seems like a clingy pet feline.

“I appreciate the sentiment, but I want to finish the rites,” you say softly. Then, you flush, struggling to find the right words. “And, um, I didn’t expect things to be this… good. I don’t mind experiencing more, if it’s alright with you.”

It takes a moment for your words to register, and when they do, Sylus smirks—a slow, predatory curl of his lips that sends heat coursing through your body. He leans in, capturing your lips in a searing kiss. His tongue brushes your bottom lip, and this time, you grant him easy access. You mimic what he did to you earlier, tentatively wrapping your lips around his tongue and sucking gently.

Immediately, a low, visceral groan escapes him as his hips press forward, grinding his restrained arousal against your soaked folds. The rough fabric of his trousers drags against your sensitive nub, sending jolts of pleasure rippling through you. You whine into his mouth, arms winding around his neck as you pull him impossibly closer.

Sylus seems barely in control now, his breath coming in harsh gasps as he adjusts his movements, angling his hips so that the ridge where his shaft meets the head rubs directly against your overstimulated nub.

Without warning, he breaks the kiss, leaving you on the verge of a whine as a string of spit bridges the space between you. He steps back, tugging his trousers down in one swift motion. Your gaze drops instinctively, and your breath catches at the sight of him.

Broad shoulders taper into a lean waist, and every inch of his sculpted body radiates strength. But it’s the thick, throbbing length between his legs that holds your attention. He notices the starstruck look on your gaze and he chuckles, walking closer to you until you're face level with it. Taking your hand, he gently wraps it around his girth. The sheer thickness overwhelms your grip, and your breath catches at the realization.

“Feel free to take a look,” he rasps.

You’ve never seen a cock before, but instinctively, you know this one is massive. The shaft is thick,  with prominent veins that seem to throb faintly, and the soft, rounded shapes below it look heavy and full. The bulbous, mushroom-shaped tip is flushed, beads of some kind of white, translucent fluid glistening at the slit. For some reason, you feel the urge to lean in and taste it.

Sylus takes your hand, shaping it into a loose 'O.' “This is you,” he murmurs, guiding your fingers to glide along his length, spreading the slick fluid. “And this…” He pushes through the circle you’ve made, the thick head sliding in and out. “…is how it’ll feel when I’m inside you.”

Slowly, he begins to move, sliding his shaft through your grip. The sensation is intoxicating, and you’re mesmerized by the sight of him—his cock pumping in and out of your hand, each stroke leaving it sticky with his arousal. You don’t even realize your lips are parting until you lean forward, your tongue darting out to flick against the leaking tip.

Sylus lets out a guttural moan, one hand tangling in your hair as his hips jerk involuntarily. His taste—salty and slightly bitter—is heady, and the heat of him against your tongue heightens your arousal. He bucks into your mouth, and though you gag slightly, you fight to take more of him, desperate for the connection.

You feel too empty.

“Princess—fuck—this is torture,” he groans, his deep voice rough with restraint.

You can only moan in response, lips stretched around his cock as he begins thrusting into your mouth. His large hands steady your head, guiding your movements. You peek up at him through fluttering lashes, and you feel your folds quiver at the sinful sight of the Onichynus general panting, eyes shut, sweat-covered muscles taut as he pistons in and out of you.

You are Noir’s beloved princess—revered and envied for your beauty, grace, and intellect—yet now you’re barely coherent, delirious over the addictive taste of your husband as he fucks your mouth over and over.

One particularly deep thrust hits the back of your throat and you gag, tears springing to your eyes. Sylus curses under his breath and withdraws immediately.

“Princess, I’m sorry,” he pants, taking in the sight of you—tears streaking your cheeks, saliva glistening on your lips, thighs pressed together in a futile attempt to relieve your ache.

“It’s okay,” you croak, voice hoarse and small.

Sylus pauses, taking a moment to steady himself and pull back from the frenzy consuming him, before climbing onto the bed, positioning himself against the headboard. His hands grip your waist, lifting you effortlessly to straddle his lap. Movements frantic and barely restrained, he aligns your slick folds against the length of his shaft. His lips find yours again, urgent and demanding, while his hands grip your hips, guiding you to rock against him. The friction against your sensitive nub draws a cry from you, and he groans into your mouth.

“Let me have you, princess,” he practically begs against your lips between heavy breaths.

You barely have time to process his words before he lifts you slightly, the broad head of his cock pressing insistently against your entrance. Then, you feel an immediate, sharp stretch as he breaches your folds, pushing deeper until the full length of him fills you to the hilt.

A strangled cry escapes you and you collapse against his chest, burying your face in his neck with stilted sobs. Sylus remains still, large hands massaging your rear soothingly, coaxing your body to adjust.

“You’re doing so well, sweetheart,” he whispers, lips brushing against your temple. “Just breathe. Let me in.”

“It hurts,” you gasp. He shifts slightly, and a sharp sensation makes you wince, like he’s hitting a spot that feels too far, too much. “T—Too big…”

“I know, I know,” he murmurs, breath hot and uneven against your ear. His hands move carefully, gently parting the delicate skin of your folds in an attempt to ease the stretch and make it more bearable.

Keeping his hips as still as possible, he reaches for the hem of your now sweat-soaked nightgown, lifting it with as much gentleness as he can muster. His eyes trace the path of the fabric as it reveals the slick mess of fluids dripping from where you're joined, the soft curve of your belly, the delicate bounce of your breasts freed from constraint, and finally, your tear-streaked face—beautiful, vulnerable, and utterly his. Guilt flickers through him as he feels himself twitch and grow even harder inside you, despite your pained whimpers.

After tossing the fabric aside, his lips find your neck, pressing slow, deliberate kisses to the spots that make your walls flutter around him, drawing soft, helpless sounds from your lips. 

“Once you’re settled in our home on the mainland, you’ll have everything you could ever desire,” he murmurs, hands gliding up to rub gentle circles over your hardened nipples.

“You’ll have servants at your beck and call, and you’ll be free to do whatever you please. No one will dare defy you—no one will even think to.”

The vivid imagery of his words wraps around your mind like a spell, pulling you deeper into him. The sharp discomfort of being stretched begins to ebb, replaced by a dull ache that shifts to faint blooms of pleasure.

“And when you finally swell with my child,” he breathes, tone thick with promise, “I’ll find endless delight in claiming you over and over, until the first light of dawn touches us.”

You flush at the picture of him taking you like this, with your belly round and full with his heir.

He chuckles low against your ear, the sound dark and rich. “Oh? You like that idea, don’t you?”

You huff, landing a light smack on his chest. “Do not tease me,” you protest, voice carrying a hint of authority despite your half-lidded gaze. The sight of you perched on his lap, his cock buried deep inside you, while you fix him with a stern, regal expression befitting a princess is enough to have his hips bucking up to you.

With a strained groan, he crashes his lips against your neck, his cock throbbing almost painfully within your tight walls. “I need you, princess,” he rasps against your skin, barely holding back the urge to thrust up into you.

The pressure of the stretch still lingers, but the sharp pain has melted into pulses of pleasure. You place your hips back, grinding your sensitive nub against his groin, desperate for more. “Please do something,” you plead, hips moving in frantic, clumsy circles, chasing a bliss you don’t know you’re craving.

Sylus doesn’t hesitate. He lowers you back onto the mattress while still buried deep inside you. Propping himself up on his elbows, his gaze locks onto yours as he slowly draws his hips back, leaving only the tip nestled at your entrance. Then, in a single, fluid motion, he sinks back in to the hilt, filling you completely in one long, unrelenting stroke.

You cry out, this time in response to the delicious friction of his cock dragging against your walls. Driven wild by your reaction, he pulls back again, then thrusts deeply into you with another slow, deliberate plunge. A hiss escapes him as the head of his cock presses against your deepest depths.

“You’re doing so good,” he groans, lips brushing over the bruises left by his earlier kisses on your neck. “You’ve been such a darling for me, haven’t you?”

To his twisted delight, you remain incomprehensible, helpless sounds pouring from your kiss-bitten lips as you scramble to steady yourself by gripping his shoulders, nails digging painfully into his skin. He’s almost feral at the way your flesh ripples from the impact of each thrust. The princess of Noir, coveted by men all over the realm, now lies beneath him, sweat-slicked, legs spread, and taking his cock so wonderfully.  But beyond that, he sees the most perfect queen—one whose unparalleled intellect and sharp wit can stand beside him in his pursuit for power.

Suddenly, he pulls out, and you whine, tears staining your cheeks at the dizzying emptiness. He merely shushes you soothingly before gently turning you over onto your stomach. Before you can garble out a question on what he’s doing, he plunges into you once more, hitting a spot against your front that has you curling your toes and screaming into the sheets.

“I—It feels s—strange again—!” you manage between broken whimpers, each word punctuated by the relentless rhythm of his movements against your sore walls.

“Wanna feel good again, princess?” he murmurs against your ear.

Your answering sob is all the reply you can muster.

Suddenly, you’re hoisted up on your knees, his strong arm wrapping around your waist as his other hand grips your jaw, holding your face up. His thrusts quicken, erratic and desperate, and you gasp as his tongue traces the outer shell of your ear. Then, his hand slides lower, fingers finding the swollen nub above your abused folds. The sudden burst of pleasure at the rubbing motion has you crying out, body tightening as a familiar heat coils low in your belly.

You begin to thrash in his hold at the overwhelming sensations. “Sy—I think—I think I’m—”

“Let it happen, princess, I got you.”

With those words, your hands tangle in his sweat-damp hair as a violent shudder wracks your body, exhausted sobs escaping your lips. His relentless pace doesn’t falter, eyes locked on the harsh bounce of your breasts as he pounds into you from behind, chasing his release. The tight grip of your walls and the slick heat enveloping his cock finally push him over the edge, his thrusts turning shallow and frantic before burying himself deep with a final, forceful motion, spilling his seed inside you.

Sylus takes a moment to catch his breath, pressing soft, chaste kisses along your shoulders.

“You alright, princess?”

You don’t respond.

Confused, he gently tilts your head back, only to find your peaceful, sleeping face, soft snores escaping your lips. He huffs a small laugh. How adorable.

Carefully, he shifts against the headboard, settling you onto him with his half-hard cock still nestled inside, twitching faintly. Draping your legs over his knees, he starts massaging your inner thighs, soothing the soreness he knows must be there.

A series of sharp knocks echoes through the room.

“This is the chamberlain. I must confirm that the consummation rites have been fulfilled for your marriage to be deemed legitimate by the Grand Temple.”

Sylus scowls, eyes scanning over your sleeping form. “Can’t this wait in the morning?”

“This is necessary to eliminate any possibility of deceit in performing the rites.”

“Damn uptights,” he mutters. Then, a smirk plays at the corner of his lips. “Well, come in then.”

The door swings open, revealing the old chamberlain in his faded temple robes, his attention fixed on his ledger. He mumbles the schedule for the following day as he approaches the bed. When he finally looks up, expecting to see the usual ruffled, soaked sheets, he freezes, almost stumbling backward in shock.

You—the cherished Noir princess, known for your beauty and headstrong grace—lie exhausted, nestled against the imposing form of the feared Onichynus general behind you. His scarlet eyes glint as he sucks a mark onto the side of your neck, and beneath you, his impressive girth disappears into your swollen, intimate folds, generous amounts of your combined essences coating his base.

“This is evidence enough, no?” Sylus taunts, sneaking in a shallow thrust up to you, drawing a soft, breathless whine from your throat.

The chamberlain stammers, his words fumbling as he backs toward the door.

“Y—Yes, the rites are confirmed. Good night,” he rushes out in a single breath before slamming the door behind him.

Chuckling, Sylus pulls his sleeping wife closer, placing a tender kiss on your temple. You’ll need the rest for the long journey ahead, and for whatever adjustments await you back on the mainland.

But, in the end, none of that matters.

He’s just grateful to have found his beloved kitten again.

check out my other works!

[saintobio]

sincerely yours. (11)

↳ gojou satoru/reader

when a twist of fate led their marriage to the path of a quintessential tragic romance, two past lovers go through another series of experiences on love, heartbreak, identity, illness, and trauma along the road to a happily ever after. 

genre. heavy angst, amnesia, modern au, 18+ 

tags/warnings. depression, cheating, trauma, implied suicide attempt, toxic relationships

notes. 12k wc. we're so close to the finale <3 thanks so much for the continued support and for the patience you guys have with this series :')

series masterlist -> episode twelve

For better and worse. 

Weddings are funny things. Despite the strict adherence to ceremonial traditions, they didn’t guarantee a happily ever after. Exchanging vows and the signing of marriage certificates could become meaningless when a couple faces challenges that would drive them apart. Consider the high-profile divorces of Angelina Jolie and Brad Pitt, Jennifer Garner and Ben Affleck, or Katie Holmes and Tom Cruise. Divorce had become so common that it almost seemed inevitable for many couples, even the ones with the most fairytale-like relationships. No one was safe from the idea of a divorce. So, was having a wedding really that important? Would it really define the quality and longevity of a relationship?

Satoru might have been thinking bitterly about it, given that his own marriage wasn’t exactly a shining success. However, he was also being rational when he said that weddings weren’t necessary to prove your love for each other. Early in his marriage, he certainly wasn’t the best husband, but over time, he learned to genuinely become a good partner to his ex-wife. There was no specific time frame for loving someone. You could be together for weeks, months, or years, yet the depth of love you share might remain unchanged. This constancy can be either a blessing or a curse, depending on how deep your love was from the beginning.

Well… On the topic of marriages, Satoru had no good thing to say. But that didn’t mean he shouldn’t participate in it. Weddings were still considered a special celebration for families and close friends, and He would be selfish not to share in such a beautiful event with his best friends. Besides, wasn’t it always expected that Suguru and Shoko would end up marrying each other? They were lucky—fortunate because their marriage was built on a foundation of genuine love. In contrast, Satoru’s marriage began out of convenience, which ultimately led to all the terrible things that followed.

As the best man, Satoru strode confidently alongside Suguru down the aisle, both adorned in princely tuxedos, drawing the eyes of the guests as they followed their procession. There were teasing remarks, smiles all around, and even a comment from one of the groom’s female cousins about how handsome they both looked. Despite the gentle commotion, Satoru understood why Suguru remained nervous as they reached the end of the aisle. He comfortingly stood by his side, offered a reassuring pat on the back, silently communicating to his best friend that everything would be alright.

“Don’t tell me you’ll back out now,” Satoru jested, whispering in Suguru’s ear as they observed the guests entering in accordance with the processional order.

Suguru, with his once long hair now neatly trimmed and slicked back, cleared his throat in an attempt to appear less anxious. “What if she gets cold feet?” 

Gojou couldn’t help but tease. “Shoko? You really think she’d have cold feet?” he chuckled. “She’d be the one dragging your ass back to this garden if you tried to run away.”

“Fair enough.” 

Just the night before, they had checked into the Hoshinoya Fuji to celebrate Suguru's last night of freedom. While there was drinking involved, one of the groomsmen insisted it wouldn’t be a proper bachelor’s party without some female company. So, inevitably, there were women in the hotel room, one of whom even gave Suguru a lap dance even though he showed no interest whatsoever. It was amusing to Satoru, considering his best friend used to be the biggest casanova, and now he was a committed and loyal man who, not only was terrified out of his wits on his wedding day, but was also afraid that the one woman he loved might run away from him.

Such genuine, pure love. 

As Satoru pondered, his gaze landed on Akemi, who was seated a couple of rows back among the other guests. She had just arrived, her hair tied elegantly in a low ponytail and her silky sage dress accentuating her womanly figure flawlessly. She was wearing the diamond Tiffany & Co. earrings he had gifted her, which made her stand out among the rest of the people in that garden. Their eyes also met at the perfect moment, her gaze sparkling upon seeing Satoru in his tuxedo. He offered her a smile, one that silently conveyed ‘I’ll be there with you later,’ and she immediately understood. 

How fortunate was Satoru to have her? Perhaps the reason for her late appearance was because she had been looking after Sachiro back home, fulfilling the duties that his ex-wife should have been doing. She was truly a mother who stepped up, especially during a time when both he and his son felt most abandoned.

And what about you? Who knew if you would even attend the wedding? You were meant to be Ieiri’s maid-of-honor, yet you were conspicuously absent. Perhaps you were still in Monaco, enjoying your time playing house with Toji, making a wedding like this seem insignificant to you. You would have informed Miwa in advance and picked up Sachiro if you had returned to Tokyo, right? Suguru also hadn’t mentioned anything about your arrival at the accommodation, hinting that someone else would have to step in as Shoko's maid-of-honor.

But who would it be? Shoko’s cousin? One of her other female co-workers? Her high school friend? 

“Look, mom! She’s beautiful~”

Satoru was rendered speechless, utterly captivated by the sight before him. His fingers tingled with anticipation, his heart raced in his chest, his feet felt rooted to the ground, and his eyes remained fixed on the next lady gracefully making her way down the aisle. He couldn’t quite pinpoint what struck him the most: was it the sight of you in a stunning light green dress, resembling an angel descended from the heavens, or was it the haunting reminder of his own wedding day, when you walked down the same aisle as his most beautiful bride?

His breath caught in his throat, his chest tightening with each step you took down the aisle. Satoru felt like a statue, frozen in place, unable to tear his gaze away from you. You had become the sole focus of his attention, the rest of the world fading into a blur around him. He couldn’t comprehend it. Why was it so effortless for him to let his guard down around you?

This woman, he thought. This woman is Sachiro’s mother. This was the same woman that carried his flesh and blood for nine months, now appearing as radiant as a freshly bloomed flower, as if untouched by the stresses of unexpected motherhood. What had transpired in Monaco to transform you into this vision of beauty?

“You’re drooling.” Suguru nudged him on the chest. “This isn’t your wedding. You had your chance.” 

Yes, he was well aware. This wasn’t his wedding, and he needed to maintain composure. Yet, it felt as though he was being drawn inexorably towards the mesmerizing goddess before him. With each beat of his heart quickening, he struggled to remind himself: No, Satoru. She's nothing to you now.

And because he was lost in a trance, he remained oblivious to the bride’s entrance and even Suguru’s emotional reaction to seeing his bride. His attention was solely fixated on you as he stole glances your way whenever he could. It wasn’t until the exchanging of rings, when you two had to stand side by side to assist the bride and groom, that he snapped back to reality. With you so close yet seemingly distant, Satoru felt a pang of disappointment as you never returned his gaze. The whispers and side comments from the guests also added to his discomfort, making him acutely aware of the scrutiny placed upon the best man and maid-of-honor.

“Aren’t they divorced?”

“Yeah, their marriage was a wreck.” 

“They’re bad luck. I hope they don’t pass it onto the couple.”  

For the first time in a long time, Satoru was gripped by an unprecedented desire to retort, to refute the misconceptions surrounding his marriage. Yet, he knew it was futile. Engaging in a verbal sparring match with another guest would only ruin his best friends' special day. Moreover, he might risk causing unintentional hurt to Akemi by defending a marriage that had long ceased to exist. So, despite the internal turmoil, he remained silent, allowing the whispers to persist unchecked.

And, with that, the wedding ceremony ended. Shoko and Suguru were now declared husband and wife. 

— — 

The reception was a time for socializing, enjoying drinks and hors d’oeuvres, and congratulating the newlyweds. For Suguru and Shoko, this part of the celebration felt effortless and their energies were seamlessly complementing each other’s. Unlike arranged marriages, there was no sense of haste or coercion; theirs was a union born of genuine affection. You couldn’t help but feel foolish for ever entertaining the notion that this was merely a conventional wedding experience. Here, before your eyes, unfolded a true celebration of love between two people.

Did Satoru share the same sentiments? You wondered what thoughts raced through his mind during the proceedings. Did the event trigger memories of his own past, or stir feelings of longing for what could have been?

You refused to subject yourself to the torment of dwelling on your past. If anything, your time living alone in Monaco had been a crucial step in your healing journey. While the process was far from complete, that solitary retreat had provided a much-needed respite from the source of your stress. It afforded you the opportunity to contemplate the life you were destined to lead, albeit alone for the foreseeable future.

By allowing Sachiro to spend more time with his father, you not only facilitated the rebuilding of their fractured relationship, but also acclimated your child to your absence. It was a necessary adjustment, one that would prepare him for the reality of your impending solitary existence. At least, Sachiro had a chance to live in a loving household with Satoru and Akemi, instead of a miserable and lonely way of living together with you. 

In the end, it was all for your child. 

As for the potential emotional minefield of attending this wedding, you were there for Shoko, who had always been a steadfast and understanding presence in your life. Her genuine friendship meant more to you than mere familial bonds ever could. Even at the risk of stirring up unhealthy emotions by being in a room full of people who hurt you, you couldn’t bear to disappoint Ieiri. 

Admittedly though, navigating the wedding crowd was a delicate balance of warmth and formality. Ieiri’s side of the family, who were doctors heavily acquainted with your family, greeted you with genuine warmth. While Suguru’s relatives, who were more closely tied to the Gojou family, maintained a polite distance. Although there were occasional moments of discomfort, you knew how to maintain composure throughout. 

As for Toji’s absence, while a part of you wished he could have been there as a supportive presence, you also recognized the value in learning to handle situations involving your ex-husband independently. He had an unavoidable business trip, but that also provided an opportunity for you to stop relying on him and navigate such occasions like these on your own. He was nothing more than a friend now. 

While that ex-husband, Satoru, was here with your best friend. It didn’t surprise you that he had brought Akemi as a plus one. In fact, you had expected it to happen. It just wasn’t the best feeling to be the maid-of-honor when the best man clearly had another lady for it in mind. 

It was quite amusing, too. Not once had Akemi approached you during the reception. You understood that she wanted to keep her distance, but you found it disrespectful that she was ignoring your existence. Was she scared to talk to you? Scared of what you had to say? You had heard over a million hurtful things from other people, yet she was afraid to hear a few pieces of advice from you?  

Forget it. Forget her and Satoru. Focus on the reception, Y/N. 

But really, how could you? As the moment arrived for the newlyweds’ first dance, tradition dictated that the best man and maid-of-honor should also take to the floor. You sensed the tension in the air as Satoru hesitated, surrounded by urging groomsmen, deciding whether or not he should ask you for a dance. He looked like he was battling with what was right and wrong in his mind, yet ultimately he chose to pass by you, extending his hand to Akemi instead.

It wasn’t feelings of shame that slapped you to reality. It was seeing Satoru holding Akemi’s hand, another on her waist, as they slowly danced to Can’t Help Falling In Love, a song that was played on your wedding day. 

Take my hand

Take my whole life too

Oh, for I can’t help

Falling in love with you

It shouldn’t hurt anymore. You were doing better. You were doing so good, you were doing… you were okay. You should be okay. Or did you overestimate your emotions a little too much? Because this, seeing the man you loved with all your heart holding another woman in his arms, was tortuous to your soul. You could feel the pains of your past tugging at your heart, wondering why he never danced like that with you on your wedding day? Why he never stared at you like you were the most beautiful girl in the world, why he never showed you off in a room full of curious people, why he never respected you enough to treat you with such… with such love. 

“Everything okay?”

You didn’t expect Nanami, out of all people, to be offering you a handkerchief. You hadn’t even realized that your eyes were already pooling of the tears if he had not cut you out of trance, offering a comforting and sympathetic smile. You had to blink multiple times just to push your tears back in. 

“Yeah,” you answered with a grateful expression. I’m strong. I’ll be fine. “Thank you.” 

Nanami took that as a sign to offer his hand. “Care for a dance, then?” 

Wiping your eyes, you nodded, smiling at the man. “Why not?” 

After the dance, the reception continued as follows. The cake cutting, the dinner service, then the toasts and speeches. If it wasn’t for Nanami, you wouldn’t have been able to pick yourself back up after the humiliation of seeing Satoru and Akemi dancing together. You just needed a decent amount of air to breathe and gather yourself together again. It was a nice help from someone who wasn’t a personal acquaintance of yours, that despite being Satoru’s right hand man in the company, Nanami still had some kindness in him that you would forever be thankful for. 

And when it was time for you to do your speech as the MOH, you didn’t let a single vulnerable emotion slip out of you. For that short moment, you tried not to think about who was in the audience, about what they thought of you, and about what other preconceived notions they had of you. You focused on the newlyweds as you stood in front of the mic stand, eye-to-eye with Shoko and Suguru, who were holding each other’s hands. 

“Shoko,” you began, smiling genuinely at the couple, “Through the laughter and tears, you’ve been my constant, my confidante, my rock. And today, as I watch you embark on this new chapter of your life, I’m honestly a bit overwhelmed with emotion.” 

The bride returned your smile, and you can tell Shoko was holding back tears of her own as she glanced between you and Satoru. 

You continued your speech, observing Suguru’s supportive gesture towards his wife as you spoke. “Shoko, I recall our late-night conversations, the tears shed over broken marriages, and the pain of shattered relationships. Yet, through it all, you’ve remained steadfast in your belief in love, in hope, in the possibility of a happily ever after.” Turning to Suguru, although he still had that lingering discomfort around you, you offered him nothing but heartfelt words. “As I look at you and Suguru, I’m reminded that true love exists—a love that is patient, kind, and enduring. My wish for you both is a lifetime filled with laughter, joy, and unwavering support for each other. May you cherish each other’s hearts, protect each other’s dreams, and weather life’s storms together, stronger in your love. Suguru, during your challenging days as a married couple, I pray that you always look at Shoko and remember why you love her. I pray that you will always have the capacity to cherish and respect her as your wife and the future mother of your children. May you keep her in your heart, no matter what challenges may come your way.”

As tears welled in Ieiri’s eyes, your voice faltered, the magnitude of your wishes for their marriage weighing heavily on your own unfulfilled desires. You weren’t trying to make this about you, and you hoped they thought that, too. 

“As I raise my glass to toast this beautiful union,” you said, raising the champagne glass on your hand, “I do so with a heart full of love and a silent prayer—that your love story will be one of triumph, of healing, and of endless happiness. Congratulations, Shoko and Suguru!”

— —

Satoru was deeply affected by your speech. Both in good and bad ways. On one hand, he was touched by the sincerity of your words and the genuine wishes you extended to the newlywed couple. On the other hand, he couldn’t shake off the pang of guilt and remorse that accompanied your words, knowing all too well the history behind them. When you expressed your hopes for Suguru to always cherish and respect Shoko, Satoru couldn’t help but reflect on his own behavior during your marriage and the ways in which he may have fallen short.

Each action he did definitely had a lasting impact on you. 

But what about the good ones? Had you forgotten about the times he treated you well? Had you forgotten the lengths he took just to prove to you that he was a changed man? That at one point in his life, he would do everything in him just to show you how much he loved you? 

It was unfair. Why did you only ever look at the bad things he did and never the good ones? Why did you still see him as a villain in your marriage when he knew he had paid his dues after he lost you?

It was truly, honestly unfair, that you get to be happy with Toji, but he ought to feel guilty for being with Akemi. 

“I think they’re about to do the bouquet and garter toss,” spoke Akemi, tugging at Satoru’s arm while they sat on their designated table. She held a napkin on her other hand to wipe her partner’s chin, smiling in excitement. “You should go and join.” 

Where were you? After your speech, Satoru couldn’t seem to find you anymore. Where had you gone off to? Did you leave already? 

“Y-Yeah,” Satoru answered, looking around the venue before turning to Akemi. “What about you? Won’t you join the bouquet toss thing?” 

She shook her head, hesitantly. “Isn’t it only for bridesmaids?” 

He grabbed her hand and urged her up. “No, it’s for all unmarried female guests. Come on.” 

The reason Satoru dragged her along was because Akemi loved weddings, and she especially enjoyed the traditions that came with it. She herself once dreamt about the picture perfect wedding, but never got to fully have her own, so attending such occasions made up for the lack of personally experiencing it. 

Gojou couldn’t exactly remember if he did the garter toss in his own wedding. If so, who had caught it? Who had caught your bouquet? His eyes swept across the entire venue once more, searching for your familiar figure among the guests. He was too occupied to realize that Shoko had already tossed her bouquet, and the frenzy of eager ladies ensued until it landed in Akemi’s hands.

He genuinely felt happy for Akemi. The joy in her eyes upon catching Shoko’s bouquet was unmistakable. Yet, as the playful teasing about a potential wedding for him shifted in his direction, Satoru couldn’t help but feel a twinge of pressure. It wasn’t supposed to weigh on him like this. It was too soon to have that expectation of him. 

“Looks like someone’s getting married next!”

And while he was feeling suffocated from the pressure placed upon him, the receiver of the tossed garter happened to have been Nanami. 

Immediately, the teasing ensued, with the other guests urging Nanami to wear the garter on Akemi’s leg. Out of respect, Nanami looked at Gojou for permission, but honestly? He was just grateful he didn’t have to do all that and be pressured about another wedding that he had not yet thought about. Fuck it, thank God Nanami had caught the garter because Satoru was sure as hell starting to feel uneasy there. 

“Go for it,” was the only thing Satoru said to Nanami, gesturing his chin at Akemi’s direction. 

While everyone was focused on the situation between Nanami and Akemi, Satoru took that opportunity to escape from the crowd and find his peace at the balcony. He hastily made his way out of the reception hall, feeling a sense of relief as he could finally breathe. 

And there you were, standing alone, lost in contemplation, and your gaze fixed upon the tranquil expanse of the lakeside. The chill breeze caressed your hair softly, as if mirroring the calm that enveloped your countenance. In another universe, this would have been an opportune moment to hug you from behind, sharing the warmth of his embrace around your figure. But he was living in a universe where you and him weren’t meant to be together.

In fact, you were probably thinking about another man as you stared at the lake, hoping that he was there with you. 

“Did you have fun in Monaco with Toji?” Satoru was crazy for going straight to the point, and he knew it was a blunt inquiry, bordering on intrusive, but it tumbled out nonetheless, revealing the thoughts that had been plaguing in his mind. His words spilled out before he could rein them in, a question born of curiosity and perhaps a touch of jealousy.

As for you, with your peace in the balcony now ruined, you briefly opened your mouth to respond, but held back against it as you met Gojou’s eyes with a distant stare. You were even quick to look away and sigh, like he was not worth the conversation. You had not spoken a word to him since the wedding ceremony and you were definitely going to keep doing it. 

And man, did that hurt his ego. 

So, for a very stupid reason, he felt the need to hurt yours in return. “Do you know Sachi calls Akemi ‘mama’ in his sleep?” 

Your eyes remained empty. “Good for you, then. You won’t have a hard time getting him accustomed to it.” 

“Y/N.” Satoru’s voice came out as a warning, and he was about to start an argument on why you were abandoning him and Sachi over Toji, but he was interrupted at the appearance of Akemi carrying Shoko’s bouquet as she tried to search for her lover. This meant that the conversation with the ex-wife was over.

But as he glanced between you and Akemi, his bitter past and his sweet present, why did Satoru’s heart still lingered with you when it shouldn’t?

“You should go,” you briefly muttered, walking in the opposite direction, “Your future wife’s looking for you.”

Satoru’s sudden grip on your wrist halted your steps abruptly. His voice carried a bitter edge as he reminded you of the agreement you had made. “Y/N, we agreed to co-parent Sachiro properly. Why are you choosing Toji over your own son?” 

The accusation left a tense atmosphere, eliciting a sharp response from you as you yanked your hand away, a flash of anger igniting in your eyes. “You have no idea what you're talking about, Satoru.”

— —

“Welcome to Hoshinoya Fuji, Ms. L/N!” 

You stepped out of the car, taking in the serene beauty of the lakeside cabin that would be your sanctuary for the next three days and two nights. Nestled among towering pines and sturdy oaks, the cabin exuded a rustic charm that blended seamlessly with the natural landscape. Its weathered wooden exterior, adorned with a green tin roof, seemed to have grown organically from the earth itself.

The cabin sat on a gentle slope that led directly to the water’s edge. A wooden deck wrapped around the front, offering a perfect vantage point for gazing out over the tranquil lake. Your room also had the best view of Mount Fuji, which you thought was the highlight of this luxurious accommodation. 

After the newlywed send-off, you were quickly ushered in by Shoko and Suguru’s staff, who were in charge of attending to the special guests staying a few extra days at the cabin. Though the couple wouldn’t start their proper honeymoon until their 6-month long cruise trip in two weeks, they wanted their guests to enjoy the accommodations they had arranged. You were relieved to hear that, despite Satoru and Akemi also being among the friends staying, each guest had their own private cabin reserved.

The thing was, you could leave any time if you wanted to. Shoko also reassured you that it would be okay and that she would understand if you wanted to go home right away. She knew that the situation may be uncomfortable for you, and that she felt bad you even had to deal with it during the ceremony, but you made a promise to her. You were her maid-of-honor for a reason, and part of your duty was to help with the post-ceremony tasks to ensure that Shoko can focus on enjoying her pre and post-wedding activities. 

So, in some ways, you felt obliged to stay. You didn’t need to interact much with others during your stay, anyway. You were content staying in your room, perhaps taking some occasional walks outside. Satoru could do whatever he wanted with Akemi; you were determined to avoid crossing their paths.

Besides, inside the cabin was a cozy retreat. The main living area featured large windows that framed the picturesque view, allowing moonlight to spill in and illuminate the space. A stone fireplace, complete with a rustic mantel adorned with pinecones and candles, stood as the centerpiece of the room. Plush armchairs and a worn leather sofa invited relaxation, while a handwoven rug added a touch of warmth and color.

As you moved towards the bedroom, you found a comfortable queen-sized bed covered in a soft, plaid quilt. The scent of pine mingled with the faint aroma of fresh linens, creating an atmosphere of peaceful haven. An old-fashioned dresser and a bedside table, topped with a simple lamp, completed the room. The windows here, too, offered a glimpse of the sparkling lake, ensuring that the beauty of nature would greet you each morning.

Stepping outside, you walked down a short path to the water’s edge, where a small wooden dock extended into the lake. A pair of Adirondack chairs sat invitingly at the end of the dock, perfect for soaking in the sunset or stargazing at night. Nearby, a fire pit surrounded by stones and logs as seating promised cozy evenings under the stars, with the gentle sound of lapping water providing a soothing backdrop.

On your first night there, you ended up falling asleep right away. The physical and emotional exhaustion, combined with jetlag, knocked you out. However, the next day promised a few tasks to complete the post-wedding cleanup. 

The second night, however, was a different story.

When you returned to the cabin, the cool evening air was crisp against your skin. The temperature went down a couple of celsius compared to yesterday, so as you walked down the path toward the lakeside, you were drawn to the flickering glow of a fire pit illuminating the area near the water’s edge. Drawing closer, the soft sounds of laughter and conversation reached your ears, mingling with the gentle crackle of burning logs.

The fire pit was surrounded by a group, their faces lit by the warm, golden light of the flames. They sat on a circle of logs and foldable chairs, leaning in to feel the comforting heat. Some held mugs of steaming cocoa, while others toasted marshmallows on long sticks, their tips glowing bright orange before transforming into gooey, sugary treats.

You paused for a moment and took in the scene. Was it a safe space for you to be in? You noticed familiar faces among the group—some of the couple’s old friends from the wedding, now relaxed and enjoying the peaceful night. One of the guests strummed a guitar softly, the melody adding to the cozy, inviting atmosphere. Another guest told a story, their animated expressions and gestures causing bursts of laughter from the listeners.

There was no sight of Satoru and Akemi. Perhaps, it might be okay to join in.

As you approached, Suguru emerged from a nearby cabin, smiling in a way that felt unusual. Why was he being friendly all of a sudden? Last time you checked, he still held a grudge against you. But now, he showed no signs of antagonism, and was even approaching you with his usual friendly demeanor.

“Y/N,” he said, the fog of his breath visible in the cold air, “I never got to thank you properly for helping us with everything here. I didn’t think you’d make it last minute.”

You wrapped your shawl tighter around yourself to ward off the chill. “It’s no trouble. I’m glad to help out and be here for you guys,” you replied warmly. And while glancing around, you noticed the absence of Shoko. “Where’s the missus?”

Suguru’s smile took on a mischievous edge. “Sleeping. She’s still pretty tired and…”

You interrupted him with a laugh, catching onto his suggestive tone. “Alright, you two. You’re wild.”

His grin softened into a sincere expression. “No, seriously. I never got to properly thank you. I never got to apologize to you either.” Suguru looked down with guilt. “I’m sorry for being an asshole to you. I was focusing too much on Satoru’s point-of-view, dismissing how it must be like to be in your position amidst all that mess. Shoko helped me understand why you made certain decisions, why you had no other option. She helped me see things from your perspective, to realize the extent of your suffering. We all knew that, I guess. We all knew you were constantly dealt a bad hand, yet you remain kind and resilient. You continue to show empathy to others, even when the world hasn’t been fair to you.”

In the ensuing silence, your heart seemed to thunder in your chest. His words carried weight far beyond what he might have intended, and you genuinely appreciated his apology. Even if he didn’t need to say them. 

“I guess what I’m trying to say is, you’re a gem, Y/N.” Suguru gave your back a gentle pat. “You deserve to be happy in your own special way. And just like how you wished us well with our marriage, I hope you’ll find your own path to a happy marriage, too.” 

“Thank you,” you mumbled, looking down with a forlorn smile. 

“We’re here for you, okay?” he offered, “Shoko and I. You can count on us if you need us, if you need help with Sachiro, if you need help with life in general.” 

“I appreciate it, really.” 

And by then, he cleared his throat, opening up a topic that caught you off guard. You didn’t expect it from Suguru out of all people. “Y/N, I know why you were in Monaco.” 

Of course. He’d know it from Shoko. 

“I also know,” he continued, dark narrow eyes staring straight at yours, “why you left Sachiro with his father.” 

You were a deer caught in the headlights. You wouldn’t say it felt invasive to have someone be aware of the reasoning behind your personal decisions, but it was just an altogether different feeling to know that it was your ex-husband’s best friend who knew. 

“Why didn’t you tell him?” he asked, referring to Satoru, “That you broke up with Toji?” 

You took a deep breath. “I don’t see the point of telling him.”

“What if I were to tell you that he’d come running desperately to you the moment he finds out?” he posed another burning question. “You still love him, right? You and him would likely get together without much difficulty if he were aware. So, why hesitate?”

“Because I don’t want that,” you answered, feeling words caught in your throat in a moment of vulnerability. “Because I’m scared to get back with him. Because he has Akemi now. Because I don’t wanna keep ruining the lives of the people around me. We’re better off this way, Suguru. I don’t want to mess up the second time around, and I definitely don’t think Satoru would be able to fully move on with his life with me still in the picture. He seems to be happy with Akemi already.” 

Suguru smiled sadly. “You don’t even wanna get your revenge? Don’t wanna get back at your best friend for dating your ex?” he paused to correct himself, “Well, dating is the wrong term. Satoru insists they’re not exclusive, you know?” 

You shook your head, sighing. Satoru, you haven’t changed. “It doesn’t matter. I’m fine with the way things are.” 

He was on the verge of continuing, poised to persuade further, but the arrival of the very individuals in question brought an abrupt halt to his words. Descending the cabin steps was Shoko, trailed by Satoru, who, in a gesture of warmth, had draped his jacket around Akemi, with his arms encircling her.

All five of you found yourselves in an awkward situation, now faced with two couples, one of which was at the core of your distress. The tension was palpable, and it didn’t help that Satoru’s vivid blue eyes met yours, seemingly trying to decode the conversation between you and Suguru. That was none of his business. He could continue his affectionate display with Akemi, while you had other matters to attend to than be part of an awkward quintet.

“I should go,” you declared, avoiding eye contact with everyone, unwilling to play the fifth wheel. You were hoping to evade Satoru and Akemi’s presence, but both Shoko and Suguru already caught your arm. 

“Y/N, please,” Shoko urged, her arm reaching out to you. “Don't isolate yourself tonight. Come join us.”

The memory of Bora Bora flooded your mind, a painful reminder of a similar situation when Shoko had extended the same invitation, leading to the discomfort of witnessing Sera’s closeness with Satoru. You knew that wasn’t Shoko’s intention, but it was your ex-husband who couldn’t stop catching himself in these situations. 

This was a bad idea. You knew that. 

So, why did you agree? 

Despite your reservations, curiosity got the best of you. You would vehemently deny it if asked, but deep down, you pondered whether Suguru’s words held any truth about Satoru’s lingering feelings for you. It wasn’t out of pettiness, but rather a desire to confirm if Satoru was truly committed to Akemi. You knew this could potentially hurt you, but after enduring so much pain, you couldn’t imagine anything worse.

“Hey, you guys!” 

“It’s nice of you to join us!” 

“What’s up newlyweds?” 

Upon joining the group at the fireplace, you were partly grateful that you weren’t exactly a fifth wheel in the situation. There were about ten or twelve people in total, with the earlier group still remaining in their seats. It just so happened that you were seated right across your ex-husband, who was too busy trying to keep Akemi warm and cozy. 

“So, Y/N…” spoke a man from the group, who appeared to be Suguru’s colleague. “Are you single?” 

The unexpected question caught you off guard, especially the tension it seemed to create, particularly with Satoru who sat stiffly next to Akemi. Even Shoko and Suguru seemed apologetic for their friend’s behavior, but you brushed it off, recognizing that he had probably indulged a bit too much with beer. He was harmless enough when sober.

“Don’t be asking questions like that,” Suguru intervened, tapping the back of his friend’s head in a playful scold. “That’s rude.” 

The friend protested, still oblivious to the discomfort he had caused. “I was just asking! She’s attractive. I have the right to know.”

You forced a smile, accepting the can of beer he had offered. “Thanks, but I—”

“Even if she’s single, she’s not interested in you,” Shoko chimed in, keeping a casual mien. She had to keep things cool, especially with an explosive Gojou around. You were just thankful that she didn’t exactly reveal the status of your relationship with Toji, and that she was doing her best to divert the attention away from you. 

In this little scene, you caught a glimpse of Akemi tugging at Satoru’s arm, like she was uncomfortable with the conversation. Why? Did it trigger an insecurity within her? She couldn’t even return eye-contact, constantly avoiding your eyes and reacting to any conversation remotely related to you. But Satoru was there acting like a concerned boyfriend, whispering reassurance into her ear, and rubbing her knee in a comforting fashion. 

“You two make a lovely couple,” remarked one of the girls, directing her compliment to Satoru and Akemi.“Weren’t you the girl who caught the bouquet? Looks like there might be another wedding on the horizon.”

“Oooh!” 

“They’re an attractive couple, too.” 

“You guys planning for any children?” 

Just like Bora Bora. A bitter smile lingered on your face, but you decided not to look at Satoru anymore. He must be enjoying this. 

Shoko leaned in and placed an arm around you to whisper her apologies. “I’m sorry, Y/N. This was a bad idea.” 

“It’s okay,” you assured, not wanting to ruin the moment. “I’ll leave after I finish my beer so it won’t be awkward.” 

As the night wore on, conversation flowed easily at first, with everyone exchanging stories and laughter, and eventually more beers and liquor were passed around. Shoko and Suguru were lost in the glow of newlywed bliss, while you found yourself increasingly uneasy as memories of the past mingled with the present.

Satoru’s presence beside Akemi was a constant reminder of your failed marriage, and you struggled to suppress the weakness in your chest that threatened to surface. They held hands and watched the fire together, her head resting on his shoulder, his lips on top of her head. She was trying to voice out a specific concern to him, and he was sweetly listening to her. Did they even realize the ex-wife was in the same area with them? It was insensitive. You never knew Satoru could be this insensitive around you, no matter what his reasons were, his romantic gestures towards her was a clear slap to your face. And he succeeded, because you would be foolish not to admit that it broke your heart in half to witness him choosing another woman over you. 

Again, Satoru. Here we go again. You tried to stop the pounding on your chest. Here we fucking are the second time around. 

Desperate to ease the tension, Shoko and Suguru attempted to steer the conversation toward lighter topics, but their efforts only served to highlight the underlying tension in the air. You forced a smile and nodded along with the conversation, but inside, your heart was heavy with unresolved emotions.

And then someone had to bring up that stupid truth or dare game. 

“Satoru-kun, I dare you to kiss the prettiest woman in this group.” 

“Whoo! Do it! Do it! Do it!” 

Satoru was initially hesitant as he clearly found himself at a crossroads. He had two options here. Should he risk hurting Akemi by refusing to kiss her? Or should he risk hurting you by kissing another woman in front of you?

The clear winner was Akemi, because as soon as Gojou pressed his lips onto hers, you were already walking out of there. You had already excused yourself from the group, your footsteps as heavy as your heart. And unbeknownst to you, Satoru watched you go with a flicker of remorse in his eyes, but it was too late for apologies or second chances. The fire continued to crackle and pop as you left, its flames casting long shadows across the empty space where you had sat.

It was game over. Satoru had won his game. 

— —

Satoru was puzzled by your behavior since the wedding. You seemed determined to avoid him, which made sense with Akemi constantly by his side, but there was also an air of desperation to your avoidance. What baffled him even more was the jealousy you exhibited, as if you weren’t involved with another man, to the point where you even flew to another country just to spend more time with him. 

Like you said, you two were no longer married. It was about time you moved on. Yet, how come you were acting heartbroken over seeing Satoru with another woman?

Did you really think leaving the fire pit so abruptly had gone unnoticed?

Did you really think he had taken his eyes off you?

If not for Akemi telling him that she was having pelvic cramps, Gojou would have run off to follow you the minute you left the fire pit. Clearly, you still had an issue seeing him with another girl and he wanted you to voice it out. But if there was anything he learned during your time together, you would never be the first one to admit that you were jealous. Heck, didn’t you even allow him to bring Sera to Bora Bora that one time?

Look, he didn’t want to hurt you all over again. And if you had walked up to him and called him an asshole for having Akemi around, he would even agree with you. But it was your decision to choose Toji, it was your request for Satoru to find someone else, so why did it seem like you were suddenly changing your mind?

“I’m sorry for being a party pooper,” Akemi groaned in discomfort as Gojou helped her back to their cabin. He quickly refocused on their conversation, reminding himself not to dwell on thoughts of you when Akemi needed his attention—it wouldn’t be fair to her. She was suffering from a terrible illness that he wouldn’t wish upon anyone and he had to be her rock. “It’s been hurting quite a bit lately. I really should start with my treatment.”

Once inside their room, he swiftly settled her into bed. “Where does it hurt?” He applied a gentle touch to her pelvic bone, massaging the area to alleviate her discomfort. “Here?”

“Mhm. Thank you,” she lightly spoke, her soft hand caressing his cheek. “I’ll be fine.”

“You look really pale, though. I’m worried,” he remarked, sympathizing with her. Her complexion betrayed the pain she was holding back, though she likely hesitated to admit she wanted to go home and rest. “Do you wanna go home? Even if it’s in the middle of the night, I can have my driver pick us up.”

She shook her head quickly. “No, no. Please, I'll be fine. You won't get to see Shoko and Suguru for a while once they’re on their honeymoon, so I want you to spend time with them here.”

“You sure? But you always come first.” 

“I’ll be okay.” 

As Satoru continued to massage the area where Akemi felt pain, his thoughts inevitably drifted to you. He recalled the time when you were pregnant with Sachiro, experiencing frequent lower abdominal pain as your body adjusted to the baby. Each night, Satoru stayed up, gently rubbing your belly until you drifted off to sleep. It was one of his happiest memories during your marriage—the domestic bliss of being your husband and the memory of him caring for his wife. He wasn’t sure if he was missing it, or if he was just recalling a past memory, but looking at Akemi, Satoru wondered if he was prepared to have all that again but with another woman. 

He couldn’t give himself an answer. 

“I’m such a terrible person.” 

He should be telling himself that, but it was Akemi who said those words out loud as her brown doe-eyes stared at him solemnly, an expression that reflected guilt and remorse in equal measure. 

“How come?” Satoru’s voice was barely above a whisper as he asked, gently tucking the sheets around her while perching on the edge of the bed.

Her smile held a touch of sorrow, yet there was a glimmer of relief in her eyes. “I feel like I’ve failed Y/N. She treated me like family, like a sister, and now I can’t even face her properly. I’m just terrified, you know? I don’t want to keep letting her down. I never meant to cause her pain.”

For a moment, Gojou fell silent at her admission. “It’s all my fault. You two never would have been in this position if it wasn’t for me.” 

“Absolutely not,” Akemi persisted before leaning in to plant a tender kiss on his cheek. “Tonight, you’ve shown me that you’ve truly moved on from her. I was starting to worry, afraid that I could never fill the space she held in your heart. But since the wedding, you’ve never sidelined me or made me feel like an afterthought. You’ve never made me feel like second best. You’ve always prioritized me. I understand it’s hard seeing your ex-wife, but I appreciate your efforts more than you know. You make me feel incredibly special.”

Satoru swallowed hard. The mention of your name sent a pang of guilt coursing through his chest. He knew he had hurt Akemi with his lingering attachment to his past and his inability to fully let go of the woman who had once held his heart in her hands. He wanted to agree with Akemi, to reassure her that he had chosen her, but the truth remained elusive, buried beneath layers of denial and self-deception. He even had to close his eyes for a minute, unable to meet her gaze as a tumult of conflicting emotions swirled within him. He wanted to tell her the truth, to confess the depth of his feelings for his ex-wife, but the words were caught in his throat.

In that moment, Satoru felt more lost and alone than ever before, trapped in a web of his own making, and unable to confront the truth behind his true feelings. Moved on? Had he truly moved on from you, or had he simply buried his feelings beneath a facade of indifference?

“You should rest your eyes,” was the only thing he could tell her, planting a kiss on her forehead before he had turned off the lights. 

With the clock ticking past 11 o’clock and their recent conversation still echoing in his mind, Satoru felt an urgent need for clarity. He knew he had to confront his thoughts alone. So, without disturbing Akemi’s peaceful slumber, he quietly slipped out of the cabin, seeking solace in the night air. Immediately, as he got out, he was met with the apologetic eyes of his best friend. 

“Hey,” Satoru greeted, confused by the urgency in Suguru’s expression. “What’s up?” 

Suguru took a deep breath before he rubbed the back of his head. “There’s something I ought to tell you.” 

— —

You had been standing at the edge of the lake for a while now, the cool night air sending shivers down your spine as you gazed out at the shimmering expanse of water before you. The moon hung low in the sky, casting a silvery glow over the tranquil scene, its soft light dancing on the surface of the lake like a thousand tiny stars.

The temptation to dive into the dark waters below tugged at your heart like a siren’s song, beckoning you to leave behind the pain and sorrow that had plagued you for so long. You longed to feel the icy embrace of the lake envelop you, to lose yourself in its depths and wash away the memories that haunted you every waking moment.

Is this how it feels like to finally let go? 

As you stood on the shore, your toes just inches from the water’s edge, a wave of despair then washed over you, threatening to pull you under like the undertow of a riptide. You thought of Sachiro, your sweet, innocent son, asleep in his bed back in Tokyo, his laughter and smiles serving as an antidote to the pain in your heart.

And then him… 

Tears pricked at the corners of your eyes as you thought of Satoru. Despite the pain he had caused you, it was impossible not to yearn for him still, because his memory was a ghost that haunted you in every waking moment. But you knew that you couldn’t continue to live in the shadow of your past marriage. You had to escape being trapped in a cycle of longing and regret. You owed it to Sachiro to be strong, to find the courage to let go of the man who had once been your everything.

With your empty gaze, the calm lake shimmered in the moonlight like a blanket of liquid silver. You had come to the lake seeking solace, seeking escape from the unbearable pain that gnawed at your heart like a relentless tide. But as tears left your eyes, your emotions threatened to drown you in a sea of despair. 

Without hesitation, you dropped your shawl to the side, shedding yourself off of the cloth with a sense of reckless abandon. The fright of swimming in open water, especially at night, could have you passed out in a matter of seconds, but you paid it no mind as you waded into the water. 

Is this how it feels to finally give up? 

The lake embraced you like an old friend, enfolding you in its cool embrace as you swam out into the darkness. Each stroke brought you closer to the center of the lake, closer to the heart of your pain, and yet you felt strangely at peace, as if the water itself held the key to your salvation. You took time floating on your back, staring up at the stars that glittered like diamonds in the night sky, you felt a sense of clarity wash over you. You knew that your love for Satoru was a burden you could no longer bear.

But more than that, you knew that you couldn’t let your own pain dictate the course of your son’s life. Sachiro deserved better than a mother consumed by sorrow, better than a life overshadowed by the ghosts of the past.

With a deep breath, you let go of the pain that had held you captive for so long. You submerged yourself into the depths of the lake, watching as the night sky vanished beneath the surface like a wisp of smoke in the wind.

In that moment, you felt a sense of freedom unlike anything you had ever known. You just had to stay still. You had to keep yourself underwater, hold your breath until you no longer needed it, and… 

And…

You struggled to breathe, your mind consumed in panic telling you that you would die if you had kept yourself submerged for another minute, but you were adamant on staying there. You fought battles in your own mind, despite your body fighting back to keep you alive. 

At least soon, you would finally meet your mom again. 

“...”

“......”

“....Y/N!” 

“.......Y/N!” 

Feeling your vision blur and your limbs growing limp, you surrendered to the natural sway of the water. Bubbles escaped from your nose, your mouth tightly sealed shut. And the next thing you knew, you were back on the water surface, drawing breath like a fish out of the water. You could feel someone tugging at your arm, could feel the presence of another person dragging you out of the water, his arms pulling you into an embrace. 

“Y/N! What the hell are you thinking?!” 

You sobbed uncontrollably, your heartache pouring out as Satoru cradled you in his arms, his white hair damp from his efforts to rescue you from the water. How and when did he arrive? Your mind couldn’t process the details amidst the turmoil. All you could do was surrender to the flood of tears, feeling paralyzed from head to toe as you cried into his embrace.

Is this another dream? 

Is this another hallucination? 

You released a bitter laugh. Please. You closed your eyes, laughing and crying like a mad person. Please stop the pain. 

“Y/N, please,” his whispers were tender, yet tinged with a sorrow that amplified your heartache. “What about Sachiro?” He, too, shed his own tears, his ocean-blue eyes shimmering in the moonlight as they filled with tears, his voice breaking. “What about me?”

Your face was pressed against his chest, anguish coursing through you, feeling as if your very soul was being torn asunder. “Th-That’s the... the same thing... I’ve been asking myself,” you managed between sobs, struggling to draw a steady breath. “I’m... I’m always th-thinking about other people... and never myself.”

He fell silent, his response lost in the weight of your words, perhaps laden with guilt or his own sorrow. But his presence there, holding you close, as if he still harbored love for you, tore another piece from your already battered heart. He shouldn’t be here. He should have been with Akemi. He should be anywhere but near you. With a surge of adrenaline, you began to push him away, propelling yourself through the water, racing toward the shore despite the weakness in your limbs. Satoru called out your name, his voice a desperate plea, as he followed after you, his movements slower but filled with urgency.

“Stop!” Your voice rose, echoing against the night as you stood on the shore, water cascading from your body in sync with the tears streaming down your face. “L-Leave me alone... Please. Why are you here?”

You knew Satoru well enough to understand what had driven him to chase after you. Perhaps he had grown concerned, either from noticing your absence or from someone informing him of your uncharacteristic nighttime swim. His actions were undoubtedly unusual; he knew all too well of your fear of open water, prompting him to leap into action to rescue you.

But you didn’t need him to be here. You didn’t need him anywhere. He wasn’t yours anymore. 

“Why didn’t you tell me?” he asked, his voice carrying the weight of confusion and concern, his steps cautious as he approached you. He looked at you with tears in his eyes, his expression vulnerable and pleading, like a child seeking comfort, desperately hoping to be understood, to be heard. “You’re not with Toji anymore.”

“Why should I?” You struggled to compose yourself, wiping away the tears that blurred your vision. “It doesn’t matter—”

“It fucking matters, Y/N!”

“It shouldn’t matter!” Your voice cracked with emotion, your heart pounding painfully against your ribs. “Why should it matter, huh?”

“Because I love you!” His words echoed through the night, raw with emotion that had never been confronted until now. “Because I can’t fucking get over you. Because I’m a fool for you!”

You pushed him away, a surge of anger and hurt rising within you. “H-How dare you,” you choked out, your fists trembling as you struck his chest. “How dare you say that to me when you’re with someone else! You n-never truly loved me, Satoru. Y-You never did!”

“You wanted me to find someone new, Y/N,” his voice cracked with emotion, pained by his own words, “I just did what you asked me to do, even if that wasn’t what I truly wanted.” 

You vehemently denied his assertion in your mind, shaking your head in refusal. “Stop saying that. Just stop. Please.”

He already had his grip on your hand, pulling you closer. “Y/N—”

You jerked your hand away sharply, but then a wave of despair washed over you. “Every time I see you with her, I convince myself that I’m fine with it, that this is what I wanted, what I chose.” Tears welled up in your eyes as you recalled every heartbreak. “I tell myself that I deserve it, that you deserve to be with someone who can make you happier. But then I remember our past…” You paused, closing your eyes to stem the tears. “And then I compare it to your relationship with her now. I can’t help but wonder, why didn’t I receive that kind of love and respect from the beginning? Why did it take me nearly drowning in an ocean for you to realize and try to make things right three years ago?”

His grip on your hand tightened, as if he wanted to hold onto you and never let go, as if he wanted to reassure you with his touch that he was there, listening, understanding, feeling every word you uttered.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered, his voice barely audible amidst the crashing waves and the heavy weight of your emotions. “I’m sorry for everything I did wrong, for every moment I failed to show you the love and respect you deserved, Y/N.”

You hated it. You hated hearing his words now, because it was three years all too late. You had already gone through so much suffering, so much anguish that you didn’t deserve, just because you wanted a happy marriage. Just because you wanted to love and be loved. By him. By the person you married. 

“It d-doesn’t change anything,” you murmured, your voice breaking with sorrow. “I can’t undo the pain, the heartache. I can’t erase the memories.”

“I know,” he replied softly, his eyes filled with remorse. “But let’s try again. Let me try again, Y/N. Please.”

You wanted to believe him, to believe that he meant every word, that he was sincere in his intentions. But the wounds of the past were still fresh, and the memories of betrayal were still lingering in your mind.

“You know what hurts me more?” you asked, “It’s the fact that you didn’t lose your memories of me, but you still ended up falling for her,” you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper.

Satoru’s silence felt like a confirmation to you. Perhaps he had indeed fallen in love with Akemi, and you were the obstacle standing in the way of his complete commitment to her. You were just a relic of his past, a piece that he needed to discard in order to embrace his future with Akemi. It seemed that fate had already decided that you and Satoru would never find happiness together, and this should serve as nothing more than a closure. 

But god be damned, it was tearing you apart. 

You tugged at the necklace around your neck, the pendant bearing half of his heart, and in your trembling hand, you ripped it off. As painful as it was, your next action was to hurl it into the darkness of the lake, discarding the last remnant that linked him to you, watching as it disappeared beneath the surface of the lake with a soft splash.

You know the difference between us, Satoru? You thought silently. I dove into the ocean just to find our wedding ring, but you would never plunge into that lake to retrieve that necklace.

With determined steps, you turned away before he could react, walking away from that place, walking away from him. You resolved that this would be your final encounter with Satoru Gojou in your lifetime, because there was no need for him in your life, just as he no longer needed you in his. You two would remain in the past, a memory best left behind.

This was you letting him go. 

But then, just as you were about to walk away, you heard a faint noise from the darkness behind you—a splash, followed by the sound of another frantic splashing.

Your heart pounded heavily in your chest. You turned back toward the lake, your eyes widening in shock as you saw Satoru thrashing in the water, his arms flailing as he searched desperately for the necklace you had thrown away.

“Satoru, you idiot!” you cried out, your voice filled with disbelief and concern and pain and overwhelming heartache. Without a second thought, you ran back to the cold water, your feet sinking into the soft sand as you waded into the lake. “Satoru, what are you doing?!” you called out again, your heart racing as you reached out to him, your fingers brushing against his arm as he struggled to stay afloat.

“I have to find it,” Satoru gasped, his voice strained with exertion. “I have to find the necklace you threw.”

Your breath caught in your throat as you looked into his eyes, seeing the desperation and determination that burned within them. You knew then that you couldn’t let him risk his life for a piece of jewelry, no matter how sentimental it may be.

“Satoru, please,” you pleaded, your voice trembling with emotion. “It’s not worth it. Let it go—”

But Satoru shook his head, his gaze fixed on the dark waters below. “I have to find it," he insisted, his eyes tearful. “It’s my heart. I gave it to you.”

 I hate you. I hate you. I hate you. 

The tension between you crackled like electricity in the air. In that moment, all of your walls came crashing down, your heart laid bare before the man you had once loved with all your soul.

With tears streaming down your cheeks, you reached out and pulled Satoru into your arms, your lips meeting his in a desperate, longing kiss. It was a kiss filled with years of pent-up emotion, a bittersweet union of love and pain that left you both breathless and raw. Your lips moved together in a tender dance, each kiss a silent plea for forgiveness, for understanding, for a second chance at the love you had lost. It was a kiss that spoke of regrets and what-ifs, of dreams left unfulfilled and promises broken.

For years, you had been strangers, your hearts closed off to each other in an attempt to shield yourselves from the pain of your past. But in that moment, as you clung to each other in the darkness, you couldn’t deny the truth that still lingered between you—that your love for each other had never truly died.

As you finally pulled apart, gasping for air, you looked into Satoru’s eyes, seeing the depth of his pain mirrored in your own. “I hate you,” you whispered, your voice laced with grief and surrender, "so much."

Satoru reached out and brushed a tear from your cheek, his touch gentle and tender. “I hate me, too,” he murmured, his voice thick with emotion, his eyes shining with guilt, “for hurting you.”

You couldn’t erase the past, nor could you predict the future. But as you stood together in the middle of the lake, your hearts entwined once more, you found solace in the simple act of being together, of sharing your pain and your love in the darkness of the night. And as you held each other tight, the gravity of your connection pulled you to kiss him again. 

Once more, you met his lips in a deeper kiss. His lips moved in perfect sync with yours, and the taste of his tongue was met with the familiarity you two shared. It was as if your bodies were moving on its own, and you allowed it to dictate whatever action it desired. Forget everything for now, was all you could think of in your head. In your mind, it was all Satoru. It was the man you love. The man you married. The man you share a child with. 

You were too engrossed with the feeling of his lips that you didn’t even realize he had your legs wrapped around his waist. And with your arms around his neck, you could feel him lift you up, never breaking the kiss as he carried you out of the lake. With each step he took, your kiss only got deeper and deeper. You had never felt such intensity throughout your marriage, and you were intoxicated by the feeling of kissing him again. 

Of feeling his lips around your jawline. Your neck. Your chest. You were gasping on his mouth, had his lips completely enveloped with yours, not realizing you were stumbling inside your cabin, desperate to find somewhere to lay on. 

And before you knew it, the night had played way differently than expected.

Both your wet clothes were on the floor in a tangle of fabric, forgotten in the heat of your passion. And now, with your bare body on top of him. His arms caressed the smooth skin of your back, his lips feathering kisses along your bust. As you moved your hips slowly, you couldn’t stop the moan that escaped your lips. Satoru’s member was warm inside you. Your bodies were tingling from the intensity of your lovemaking in the dimly lit room. And when you pulled away, your eyes were locked in a silent exchange of yearning.

Without a word, Satoru reached out and gently cupped your breast, his touch sending electricity down your spine. You leaned into his touch, your breath coming in shallow gasps as you felt the heat of his body pressing against yours.

Your lips met once more, a tender exploration of each other’s mouths, and he was taking that chance to shift the position you were in. Slowly, almost hesitantly, he began to enter you again. You were whimpering under him, melting into his passionate movements. You have had sex with Satoru multiple times before, but it was never this emotional. It was never this passionate. You could feel the difference with the way he kissed you, with the way he looked at you, with the way he touched you. 

“S-Satoru—!” 

“Mmm… I missed you so fucking much, Y/N.”

And then, finally, you came together in a flurry of hands and lips and skin, your bodies melding into one as you gave yourselves over to the exquisite pleasure of your lovemaking. 

At that exact moment, as you moved together in perfect harmony, you knew that you were home.

— —

When Akemi woke up, she could tell something felt wrong. 

It didn’t help that Satoru was not by her side as she opened her eyes, blinded by the sunlight that peeked through the window. Was he out for a morning run? Or perhaps he was indulging in a leisurely bath? She entertained the idea of joining him, wanting to express her gratitude for his care and support.

Her heart swelled with love for him, despite all the risks and uncertainties. He was her rock, her confidant, her everything. In him, she found solace and strength, and she couldn’t imagine her life without him. Despite the troubles of his past, she felt blessed to have crossed paths with him. She longed for the kind of deep connection and lasting commitment that she saw in others’ marriages, a dream she harbored for her own future. And in Satoru, she saw the perfect partner to share that dream with, to build a family and a life together that she had always yearned for.

Akemi wasn’t ashamed by how smitten she was with him. In fact, she was beginning to have more confidence in her decision to pursue a relationship with him. She just hoped you would understand, that you would eventually let go of the grudge in your heart. At the end of the day, she wasn’t trying to hurt you. She was only trying to pursue her happiness. 

And the exact source of her happiness was someone she endeavored to find that morning. She put on a robe and searched every room in the cabin, calling out for his name, wondering why she couldn’t hear his voice. 

With no response forthcoming, Akemi decided to exit the cabin in search of Satoru. Assuming he had likely been with Suguru all night, she scanned the vicinity, expecting to spot his tall, white-haired figure. Yet, after several minutes of fruitless searching, she couldn’t find him and instead, encountered a hotel staff member. That was when she decided to finally inquire about his whereabouts.

“Excuse me,” she began, halting the staff member’s stride, “Have you seen my boyfriend? He’s tall, with white hair and blue eyes.”

“Ah, Mr. Gojou?” the hotel staff responded, scratching her head as realization dawned. She then gestured toward the last place Akemi wished him to be. “Um, I think he’s in there.”

Akemi’s heart raced as if she had seen a ghost. Her complexion drained of color, her heart pounding in her chest as she realized that the cabin she had been directed to was yours. And in a twist of fate, just as she stood there in shock, the man she loved emerged from the cabin, equally wide-eyed.

“‘Kemi…” he began, frozen in place, “Let’s talk first—”

But she cut him off with a scoff. Her hands trembled with a tumult of emotions—anger, pain, and betrayal—threatening to overwhelm her. She was on the verge of collapse, her mind reeling with questions. Was he going to explain his actions? No, there was only one question that demanded an answer.

“Did you… did you do it?” she asked through gritted teeth, her voice laced with accusation.

Satoru didn’t need to respond. As Akemi pushed the door open, her worst fears were confirmed as she saw you standing behind him, draped in nothing but a blanket. Tears welled in her eyes, and before she could think, her body reacted, her hand connecting with Gojou’s cheek in a resounding slap.

“You never changed!” she cried out, her voice cracking with anguish. “You’re still a cheater!”

Satoru struggled to deflect each fist she hurled at him, but her rage and despair overwhelmed any attempt to reason with her. She was consumed by her pain and the looming betrayal she anticipated, unable to comprehend that her worst fears were coming true before her eyes.

“‘Kemi, please,” Satoru pleaded in vain.

“...Akemi, I'm sorry,” you interjected, your voice heavy with remorse as you wiped your tears. “It’s not his fault. It’s mine.”

Upon hearing your words, Akemi erupted. She disregarded your friendship, cast aside your shared memories, and denied that she had ever considered you a friend. Her tear-filled eyes bore into you with accusation. “Y-You,” she began, her voice choking with sobs, “You’re a hypocrite, Y/N!”

You remained silent, absorbing her words.

Akemi pressed on with her onslaught. “You’re a hypocrite! You’ve become the person you despised the most when you were married,” she accused, recalling the anguish you endured during Gojou’s affair. “You’re no better than Sera! And that’s why you’re miserable, and you’ll forever be miserable! If this is your way of getting back at me,” she paused, betrayed by the anguish in her voice, “Then jokes on you, because Satoru will never be faithful to you. He’ll keep cheating on you, just like he did now with me! You two belong in that cycle!”

She fled before she could hear your response, but Satoru’s whispered apology lingered in the air, unclear of who its intended recipient was. At that moment, she didn’t care anymore. She raced back to her cabin, tears streaming down her face as she hastily packed her belongings.

She moved mechanically, tossing her belongings into her luggage while grappling with the overwhelming pain of his infidelity. Try as she might to focus on the task at hand, her tears flowed freely, and she surrendered to her grief, cradling her face in her hands.

Amidst her anguish, she couldn’t ignore the escalating pain in her pelvic region, a physical echo of the agony in her heart. Each sob seemed to intensify both sensations, leaving her feeling utterly shattered.

With that confrontation, Satoru faced a pivotal choice: to stay with you or to pursue Akemi. 

While Akemi had anticipated that he might choose you, she was taken aback when she swung the door open,

bags in hand, 

only to find Satoru Gojou standing on her doorstep.

[entitled-fangirl]

I promise everything.

Cregan Stark x Targaryen!wife!reader

Summary: the two have been married for months. When attending Aegon and Helaena’s wedding, the reader becomes self conscious on why they don’t have children yet.

Warnings: talks of sex

Masterlist

………………………………

Cregan cracked open the door slowly as he walked in, "My love, are you…"

His question died off from his lips as his eyes took in what laid in the room.

His wife, the younger twin of Aegon II, stood tall as her handmaiden finished tying the dress she wore. A noble blue hue to it, a perfect symbol of house Stark at a Targaryen wedding. The color did something to him inside.

She managed eye contact with him through the mirror and frowned, "Am I what?"

He bit his lip for a moment with a furrowed brow before doing a small shrug, "Uh. It's alright. Take your time."

She smiled and let out a soft laugh.

The handmaiden was soon finished and excused herself.

Y/n turned around to finally look fully at Cregan. Her eyes moved up and down his body, "You look rather dashing."

Now far from the north, Cregan had to abandon his fur cloak, leaving him in his dark tunic, blue surcoat and the Wolf sigil embroidered across the chest. Now his broad shoulders were quite displayed, as well as his fit physique that was usually up to imagination. He smiled at her, "And you…"

Her brows pulled together for just a moment, "What?" She turned to the mirror, "Is something amiss?"

He quickly held his hands up to reassure her, "No, my dear. I only meant that… I… I am utterly speechless is all."

She looked back to him with a grin, "Ah. And here I thought you wouldn't like it."

"You believed I wouldn't?" He asked as he rested his hands on her hips. "How could I not enjoy the sight of my wife dressed as a wolf in the midst of dragons?"

She chuckled as her hands moved to his chest, "I am entirely a wolf now, Cregan."

He grinned widely, "That's the best part." He leaned in a trailed kisses down her jaw, "Perhaps I'll get to enjoy you dressed in nothing by the end of the night."

…

Due to the convenience of having the two Targaryen siblings marrying themselves, the entire family fit at the high table, Y/n and Cregan towards the end.

Next to her younger brother Aemond, the two quiet siblings whispered to one another in discussion, including Cregan when he wasn't distracted by the over-the-top atmosphere.

Aemond was a fair brother to her, closer now during this age than her own twin or sister had ever been. "I suppose you're now stuck horse-riding without me around?"

The two had once shared in their lack of dragon. When Aemond claimed Vhagar, he made a vow to not abandon his sister so quickly in her endeavors, letting her ride Vhagar with him when she had needed outside of the keep.

The North had nothing of the sort, and leaving had been hard.

She nodded, "Yes, but Cregan gifted me the most wonderful horse. We ride quite often, weather permitting."

Aemond hummed, "You'll have to take a break from riding soon, I'd wager."

She frowned, "Why ever would I do that?"

"It's not healthy to do while with child."

"Well," she bit back sarcasm, "I am not with child. I have time."

"You've been married for nearly eleven moons. Most are with child by the third."

"I am not most, am I, brother?"

Noticing her bitter tone, he hummed and changed topics. He leaned over to look to Cregan, "My lord, do tell me what horse you've gifted my sister."

Cregan's expression immediately brightened at the topic of something he knew quite well, "A fjord horse. Not a runner by any means but a reliable one when…"

She zoned out from there, staring absent-mindedly at the dance floor.

Perhaps Aemond was right. Should she be with child by now?

Had she done something wrong? What if she was unable to have children? Would Cregan abandon her?

She looked to Aegon and Helaena dancing. Smiling at one another.

What if her own siblings had children before she did? How weak of a Targaryen does that make her?

"Admiring the dancing?" Cregan's voice suddenly murmured near her.

She turned her head to him, seeing his worried expression studying her.

How long had their conversation been over and she'd just been staring off in the distance?

"Is everything alright, my girl?"

She smoothed a hair back behind her ear, "I'm only lost in thought is all."

He grunted in acknowledgement. "A dangerous place to be." He tilted his head, "Wanna talk about it?'

"Not really."

He nodded but made no motion to move. He knew her quite well by now and knew she would soon-

"Why am I not with child?"

He knew she'd state her thoughts, but he didn't consider it to be that one. He frowned, "I don't suppose I have an answer."

She leaned back as the next song started, "Do you think less of me for it?"

His head tilted again like a dog hearing an uncomfortable tone, "Do I… No. No, I do not."

"I just don't understand why then."

"Darling, the gods will grant a child to us when they deem the time fit. Please do not let a thought like this ruin the celebration."

She nodded and sniffled lightly, pushing back the tears in her waterline. "You're right. What a foolish thing to stress over."

He let out a content sigh, happy with her answer. When silence loomed over the two, he watched Aegon and Helaena dance. A thought popped into the Northerner's head, and he leaned towards her again, "Perhaps we can imagine no time has passed at all."

Her face turned contemplative, "How so?"

"Perhaps," he whispered, "Tonight can be just like our wedding night."

"I'm listening."

But Cregan Stark is a man of action. He stood abruptly and held out his hand. "May I have the honor of a dance with my perfect wife?"

She grinned, trying to ignore the stares of her family and the people. She whispered, "You hate to dance."

"Aye, but I love to please you more."

Her cheeks flushed, but she took his hand and let him lead her to the floor as the next song started.

As a high lord, Cregan had been taught all of the dances. But he was no real dancer. He preferred the dance of battle than one in a ballroom. How he managed to get by for one and twenty years with only a single dance with his wife, he's unsure of. He only hoped not to embarrass her this second time.

His steps were heavy compared to her light ones. His moves, though carefully calculated, were clumsy compared to her precise ones done without a second thought. His eyes had to double check every step and move. He was sure she did it with her eyes closed.

Though nervous, a smile was plain and broad across his features.

She could feel his nerves radiate off of him in comforting waves, a reassurance to her that he would face his greatest fears for her. Not dragon fire. A dance floor. And he did so happily.

When the dance finished, he couldn't stop himself and planted a heavy kiss to her lips. He didn't care who saw. This was his wife. She was his, and he was hers.

"Let us retire," she panted against his lips.

His grin continued. "Yes, my lady."

…

Once away from the crowd, their lips moved in tandem, pausing against various pillars and walls to breathe each other in.

"Please put a child in me, Cregan."

He let out a loud groan against her lips at her words. "I will," he whispered.

He tried to move his mouth back to hers and she pulled hers away, making him chase hers. He let out a breathy plea, "I will."

Her fingers came up, her thumb brushing over his bottom lip, "Promise me?"

"I promise. I'll do whatever it takes, my girl. I'll give you a baby, I promise." He leaned in, only to be denied her again. His voice softened, "I promise everything."

She leaned in just a bit, "Take me like you did on our wedding night."

He picked her up, slamming their chamber door behind him.

…

Needless to say, about nine months later, a babe laid in Cregan's arms as he sat next to his exhausted wife.

There never was a Stark who forgot an oath.

………………………………….

Cregan Stark taglist: @misswynters, @cosmosnkaz, @sithapprentice, @kaniromi, @lovemesomevesey, @its-jackie-bb, @callsignwidow, @8812-342, @nyxbranwenn, @thorins-queen-of-erebor

[poguehearted77]

Pink Silk

Summary: Where Rafe is a prisoner in his own mind and can't stop the filthy flashbacks he gets of the time you shared together.

Rafe's body aches before his eyes even have the chance to open. The expensive sheets are strewn across the bed and covering his bare lower body. Eyes still close, as if second nature his brawny arm reaches over to the other side of the bed where you once were.

Feeling the cold, vacant mattress under the palm of his hands was enough to haul him out of his partial state of slumber. His eyes fluttered open, squinting under the bright rays of light that peaked through the gaps of the flowing drapes that danced with the warm summer breeze.

You were gone, already left for work, he presumes. He supposes he may as well follow in your footsteps. He prepares for the day, looking over his shoulder to take one last glance at the ruined bed. Getting a vivid memory of the way he had your face buried in the sheets, blabbering incoherently as he pounded you from behind.

A sinister grin stretches across his lips as he steps into the shower. Hissing at the hot water rolls down his back grazing over the little cuts that trailed all along it thanks to you. With a hand against the wall, he's reminded of how sinful you sounded in his ear when he had your legs wrapped around his waist, hips snapping against yours mercilessly while your nails dug into the flesh on his back.

Against his own volition, he feels his dick slowly stiffening up with every recount. He takes care of it before he finishes his shower. With a towel wrapped around his waist, and you still plaguing his mind he texts you. He spontaneously decided he'd take you out for lunch, to which you eventually replied with a pink heart and a thumbs up.

You'd never been a great texter, but in all fairness, neither was he. You both didn't have time to overthink little texts, you felt emojis said everything you needed to say while Rafe hardly used them and opted for unintentionally sassy abbreviations instead.

You still remember his response to your invite to your aunt's wedding. "k."

-

Rafe walked into the Hamilton Hotel, just one of the hundreds of hotel chains that your family owns. The elegantly patterned marble floors shine bright off the reflections from the chandeliers that hang down from above.

"Cameron!" Rafe's head snaps up to the source of the deep voice calling him. He pockets the small gift he'd brought for you and approaches your father who had just finished talking lecturing the receptionist.

"How are you, Mr. Hamilton?" Rafe is polite, accepting the shake of hands your father offered. "Better now that there's some competence around. I couldn't be happier that my daughter found a man like you, raised right like a true gentleman." Rafe's cheeks heat up at the praise but his body burns from the thoughts they trigger.

"I know my Y/n is in good hands with a respectful young man like yourself." Rafe gulps, mind replaying the way he did in fact have you in his hands last night and bent over his lap. Oh, and he was the farthest thing from respectful. The bruises on the inside of your thighs were a testament to it, and perhaps the slight limp you had as you were making your way over to them right now.

"Daddy," You smile, referring to your father but both heads turn to you. The blood drains from your face as you realize Rafe had just publicly reacted to that title in front of your father. Thankfully, he didn't notice and Rafe looks away.

Your dad hugs you before bidding his farewells and walking off. You look to Rafe with a look of disbelief and the two of you snicker like little kids. "I brought you somethin'" Rafe pulls out a small box from his back pocket.

A small grin stretches over your lips, "What calls for the occasion." Your boyfriend shrugs, "Jus' felt like it." Your surprise is genuine as the box slides open to reveal a Cartier bracelet. "Rafee," You pout, letting him put it on you, adding to the small stack of high-end jewellery that adorned your wrists.

"You're so cute," You smile, gently stroking his cheek with your right hand. Rafe leans into it, one of his arms slinking around your waist. His hand resting on the small of your back, subtly adorning the material of your baby pink dress. "Is this new?" He asks and you shake your head.

The other guests around were regulars and far too familiar with the high-profile couple who looked like they always needed to get a room (and you did). However, the older clients always thought you two were the cutest, reminding them of their younger selves.

"So you won't mind if I tear this off you later?" A laugh bubbles out of you and you push him away, "I'll think about it. If you buy me another one, you might have yourself a deal." You'd already begun to walk out the door, your walk enchanting and Rafe couldn't peel his eyes off you.

"I'll buy you the whole store." He promises from where he stands, legs frozen as he admires you from behind. "You coming or what? We've only got an hour." You beckon and that's all it takes to have him springing after you.

Unsurprisingly, the majority of the hour was put to good use in the back of Rafe's truck, and he kept true to his word and got you both something quick to eat afterward.

Promising a shopping spree for you after work as he couldn't help himself and accidentally tore the strap of your dress.

[wayfind-er]

Positive Depictions of Zeus

Peter Paul Ruben, "Jupiter and Mercury at Philemon and Baucis" (1632)

Titles & Epithets of Zeus

As a Fair and Merciful God

Μειλιχιος [Milichius]: Gracious, Merciful

Ευηνεμος [Evenemus]: Of Fair Winds

As a Bringer of Abundance and Prosperity

Επιδωτης [Epidotes]: Giver of Good

Πλουσιος [Plusius]: Of Wealth

Απημιος [Apemius]: Averter of Ills

As a Leader, Chief, and King

Βασιλευς [Basileus]: King, Chief, Ruler

Ὑπατος [Hypatus]: Supreme, Most High

Monarch of the Sky (by Homer and Virgil)*

Sire of Gods and Men (by Homer and Virgil)*

ἀρχὸς ἁπάντων [Archus Apantôn]: Commander of All Things*

As a Protector of People, Cities, and Homes

Κτησιος [Ctesius]: Of the House, Property

Λαοιτης [Laoites]: Of (all) the People

Φυξιος [Phyxius]: Of Refuge / Puts to Flight

Ξενιος [Xenius]: Of Strangers, Hospitality

ἀγοραῖος [Agoraios]: Protector of Public Places (assemblies)*

If you're interested in other epithets: LINK || LINK*

Artistic Depictions of Zeus

Francisco Bayeu y Subías, "The Fall of the Giants,"

Charles-Antoine Coypel, "Jupiter and Juno on Mount Ida"

Cornelis van Poeleburgh, “Feast of the Gods”

Maurice Denis, "Jupiter bestows Immortality on Psyche"

Myths with Zeus

War of the Titans: In this myth, Zeus' father, Cronus, has received the prophecy that one of his children will dethrone him. Out of fear, Cronus swallows all of his children as soon as his wife, Rhea, births them. Rhea manages to sneak out one, Zeus. Eventually, Zeus saves his siblings and starts a revolution against his father, resulting in a 10-year war called the Titanomachy. Zeus and his siblings end up victorious, and Cronus is dethroned and thrown into the pit of Tartarus.

Vows of Chasity: At the request of Hestia and Artemis, Zeus vowed that he would accept the two to remain as virgin Goddesses.

Reconciliation of Zeus and Hera: Hera was mad at Zeus and left Olympus for unknown reasons. Zeus couldn't change her mind, so he went to the cleverest man in the land, Kithaeron. Kithaeron told Zeus to spread the news that he would marry a nymph and craft a wooden statue to play the bride. Zeus did so, and naturally, Hera came back angry. However, instead of a wedding, Zeus surprised Hera with a grand festival (called Daidala), and the two reconciled. 

Hera & the Lust of Ixon: Ixon, a mortal King, fell in love with Hera during a visit to Olympus. He tried to rape Hera, to which Hera immediately reported to Zeus. To see if what she said was true, Zeus created a cloud in the sky which looked like Hera. Ixon, who saw the cloud and thought it was Hera, attacked it. Zeus punished Ixon by binding him to an eternally spinning wheel of fire in Tartarus.

Forgiveness of Cronus and the Titans: After many, many generations of Humans, Zeus forgave his father, Cronus, and freed him (and Cronus' brothers) from their prison in Tartarus. Zeus then made Cronus the King of the Elysian Islands (Home of Dead Heroes and the otherwise Blessed).

Orphic Hymn 15: To Zeus

"O Zeus, much-honoured, Zeus supremely great, to thee our holy rites we consecrate, our prayers and expiations, king divine, for all things to produce with ease through mind is thine.

Hence mother earth and mountains swelling high proceed from thee, the deep and all within the sky. Kronion (Cronion) king, descending from above, magnanimous, commanding, sceptred Zeus; all-parent, principle and end of all, whose power almighty shakes this earthly ball; even nature trembles at thy mighty nod, loud-sounding, armed with lightning, thundering god.

Source of abundance, purifying king, O various-formed, from whom all natures spring; propitious hear my prayer, give blameless health, with peace divine, and necessary wealth."

Homeric Hymn 23: To the Son of Cronos

“I will sing of Zeus, chiefest among the gods and greatest, all-seeing, the lord of all, the fulfiller who whispers words of wisdom to Themis as she sits leaning towards him.

Be gracious, all-seeing Son of Cronos, most excellent and great!”

Divider by @/vibeswithrenai

[ghost-proofbaby]

foolishness and all

summary: your boyfriend puts your love to the test when his heart is set on a certain unsightly purchase.

pairing: eddie munson x gn!reader

warnings: jar jar binks. not edited, i was laughing too hard.

wc: 1.8k+

a/n: this is the product of a very insane conversation that occurred in the middle of the night last night with @emmaisgonnacry, @lokis-army-77, and @emma-munson. forever sad we can't get the jar jar watch </3 (but at least emma got the darth maul one!) ((thank you for making me laugh until i cried last night, friends.))

“If you buy that thing, I’m breaking up with you.”

“No, you aren’t.”

“Yes, I am.” 

“I’m getting the watch.” 

“And I’m getting a new boyfriend.”

You glare at your boyfriend for several beats of tense silence, narrowing your eyes as if it’ll do anything to change his mind. His heart is already set – there’s no stopping what’s about to happen. 

“Edward Munson,” you stress, hand shooting out to hold his wrist, but he’s already whipping it out of your reach, “That thing is hideous. We’re shopping for a nice watch for Steve’s wedding, not that.” 

“This thing has a name, sweetheart,” Eddie smiles toothily, tilting his head tauntingly at you, “And I think it fits the theme perfectly.” 

“In what fucking world?”

You're whispering harshly now, trying to keep from causing a commotion in the middle of the store and garnering any more unwanted attention. The workers had given you strange enough looks when Eddie had first laid eyes on his prize, his little yelp of excitement seemingly startling them. 

The less people who witnessed the atrocity on Eddie’s wrist currently, the better. 

Eddie goes against that wish entirely, holding his wrist high in the air for the entire mall to see at this point, “In my world. He did say it was meant to be open for interpretation-”

“Not like this.”

“And my interpretation is buying this absolutely priceless Jar-Jar Binks watch.” 

The thing looks down at you, almost as if it’s laughing at you just as Eddie was right now. 

Part of you wonders if it’s all a bit – something Eddie noticed set you off, and he’s now making it into an entire catastrophic situation solely for his own enjoyment at your irritation. But part of you also knows that even if it is a bit, Eddie Munson will commit wholeheartedly to it. 

It doesn’t matter if it’s a joke or not. He’ll be leaving this store as the owner of that watch, and the thought mortifies you. 

“Please,” you finally resort to begging, feeling a bit childish as you give a pitiful hop to reach his wrist. It’s useless. He only stretches higher, shirt riding up to expose that strip of pale skin beneath the fabric. Your eyes catch on it momentarily, but you force yourself to not get distracted, “Eddie, baby-”

“Nuh uh,” he’s quick to shake his head, taking a full step back from you, “Nope. That baby shit isn’t working on me this time. I’m buying it. End of discussion.” 

Fine. The sweet talk route didn’t work. That’s fine. 

You had more than one weapon in the arsenal. 

Before he can even think to step any further away, you reach out and hook your finger through one of his belt loops, giving a tug that further exposes the band of his boxers all while forcing him closer to you. 

You’re back on your tip-toes, no longer reaching for the watch, but to let your lips barely graze over his as your whispers, “What if I ask you not to very, very nicely?” 

That has him faltering. Complete hesitation as he takes a deep breath and visible gulp, arm beginning to drop ever so slightly. 

“I would… I’d…” he trails off, clearly losing focus as your lips stay hovering just out of touch, “I’d probably… I-”

“Probably not buy it – right, handsome?” 

And just as quickly as he’d fallen victim to the game you’d started playing, he’s pulled from it. 

He leans back as far as he can with your finger still clinging to his pants, scrunching up his nose, “I see what you’re doing. Not fucking fair. It’s only thirteen dollars, anyway. I bet if Steve was here right now, he’d tell me to get it.” 

“He wouldn’t!” you whisper-yell, giving up and pulling back as well, “It’s his wedding, Eddie. He told us to get something nice to fit in with the black tie dress code,” you can see him ready the argument of interpretation once more, and nip it in the bud, “No amount of interpretation can ever qualify the head of Jar-Jar Binks turned into a watch as something that fits into black tie attire.”

He’s not convinced. Not of the point you’re trying to make – no, you know he agrees with you and is just being a little shit at this point – but of not buying the watch. 

“What if I just bought it?” he barters, “Maybe I don’t wear it to the weddin-”

“There’s no maybes about it. You can’t wear it to the wedding. You’re one of the groomsmen.”

He lifts his other hand just as the one adorning the eyesore finally drops to be eye level once more, “Fine! Fine. I won’t wear it to the wedding, but I’m still getting it.” 

It’s a compromise. Or as close to a compromise as you and Eddie were going to get to right now. 

With his wrist finally lowered, you can finally get a proper look at the thing. It’s Jar-Jar’s head with a band to mimic his skin, no clock in sight until it’s flipped open. The inside might be even worse though. Vivid font curling to spell out Jar-Jar, a light orange background with darker swirls, and the world’s smallest sliver of a screen to display the digital time. 

It absolutely blows your mind that anyone thought it was a good marketing idea. But then again, people like your boyfriend exist. He was the intended audience, not you. 

“It’s not even that cool,” you weakly still try to fight the losing battle, gingerly grabbing for the wrist this time with your free hand. Your finger hasn’t left Eddie’s belt loop, now resting comfortably in it, just growing fond of the closeness rather than weaponizing it against him. 

And maybe as a way of keeping him from running up to the counter to complete the purchase. Maybe. 

“It’s the coolest fucking thing I’ve ever seen,” he proudly proclaims, right there in the middle of the Radio Shack, never having looked more satisfied with himself, “It can just be a conversational piece. I promise, I won’t break out the secretly evil little shit-”

“What?”

“Unless the occasion actually calls for it.” 

“I’m sorry, can we go back to where you just called Jar-Jar secretly evil?” you ask, more perplexed than concerned at this point.

He was getting it. You were hating it. You had bigger wars to win with the man before you at a later date, surely. 

His grin makes you regret asking, “Oh, you haven’t heard the theory about Jar-Jar being a Sith lord, have you?” 

Your finger slips from his jeans, and your eyes nearly roll out of your head. 

“Go buy that thing. I’m waiting in the car.” 

“Wait, babe, no!” 

“Nope. I’m not listening to this.” 

You turn from Eddie to walk away, making sure he can’t see the corners of your mouth twitching with a smile you’re so desperately fighting, but it’s no use when he grabs onto your elbow to spin you back around. 

“Eddie, I’m not-”

You’re interrupted with his lips on yours, an unexpectedly genuine kiss ensuing. The kind that reminds you why you’d ever deal with someone who wants a Jar-Jar Binks watch, the kind that reminds you why the occasional embarrassment Eddie purposefully puts you through in public is all worth it. 

All the butterflies, all the sweetness, all the tenderness. The way his thumb traces over your skin as his hand stays wrapped around your elbow, the way his other hand comes up to cradle your cheek. You can still taste whatever sour candy he’d bought moments before walking into the store all over his tongue and lips, hiding his last cigarette from hours ago. 

It’s a good enough kiss to forget the entire interaction that had just occurred. 

When he pulls away, you’re a little breathless, all fluttering eyes glazed over as you look up at him, “What was that for?” 

His smile could melt your entire existence. Turn you right into a puddle of all the love you struggle to contain, just for him. 

“Just because,” he shrugs, but then he continues on, “And for putting up with me. Thank you for that.” 

“I don’t put up with you,” you say immediately, and mean it.

Even when he’s being insufferable. Even when he’s still wearing the goddamn Jar-Jar Binks watch. You don’t put up with him – you love him. Foolishness and all. 

Your finger returns to his belt loop, and this time, you tug him in for another kiss. Something short and sweet, something just because. 

“You know,” he mumbles against your lips, arm wrapping around you so you can’t leave him just yet, “They have a Darth Maul one, too…” 

Your hand comes up between the two of you, only a slight struggle, just for you to smack him in the center of his chest, “You can only have one, Munson.”

“We could match!”

“I am not wearing that thing.” 

He throws his head back and cackles, a certain glee only born of being with the one you feel safest with flooding his features. All those wrinkles in the corners of his crinkled eyes, the stretch of his lips that bring on the appearance of dimples you could bury yourself in if given the chance. A boy made up of stardust and felicity. Your boy made up of every good thing that could have ever existed in this lifetime. 

You’d rather bicker over the useless things with him a hundred times over than ever live a life without him. 

“It’s fine,” he finally sighs dramatically, “I’ll just wear the Jar-Jar Binks watch to our wedding one day.”

Our wedding one day. 

Your heart just about explodes, and the only thing you can do to not choke up is smack him even harder. 

Our wedding. 

It has a nice ring to it. 

“I’m going to fucking kill you,” you tell him instead.

There’ll be plenty of other moments to talk about that. Now, when he still wears the ugliest watch you’ve ever laid eyes on, is not the time. 

“Gotta catch me first,” he teases as he slowly backs away, a twinkle in his eyes that makes you question if he knows how you’d secretly felt about that joke. That makes you question if he and Steve Harrington had really only been shopping for Steve’s rings for the last year. 

He doesn’t even run to the counter, knowing that you won’t be chasing him. You’re content to stay back and wait. You’ll always wait on him, really.

Even if it meant waiting for the day he wore that goddamn watch on your wedding day, because at the end of it all, you’d probably let him. You’d even wear the Darth Maul watch to match if he insisted. 

You’d let him wear whatever he wants, and you’d wear whatever he insists upon, because at the end of the day, it wouldn’t matter – it’d be enough to simply marry the dork that just tripped on his way up on the counter while giggling over a watch on his wrist, and know that he’s yours, forever.

eddie's taglist: @capricornrisingsstuff @thisisktrying @mediocredreams @vol2eddie @corrcdedcoffin

@ches-86 @alovesongtheywrote @its-not-rain @feralchaospixie @cheesypuffkins87

@thebook-hobbit @babez-a-licious @eddies-acousticguitar @aysheashea @kellsck

@cosmorant @billyhvrgrove-main @micheledawn1975 @eddiesxangel @siriuslysmoking

@witchwolflea @tlclick73 @magicalchocolatecheesecake @mizzfizz @nanaminswhore

@mikiepeach @ali-r3n @hawkebuckley @alwaysbeenfamous @darkyuffie-blog

@vintagehellfire @lilmisssiren @elvendria @loveryanax @stylexrepp

@princessstolas @fangirling-4-ever @eddiesguitarskills @babez-a-licious @josephquinnsfreckles

@writinginthetwilight @trixyvixx @kittydeadbones @munson-addict @bluejeangenies

@cryingglightningg @joannamuns9n @missmarch-99 @rhirojo @findmeincorneliastreet

join my taglist!

[whytheylosttheirminds]

june gloom - part 2: is this gonna end ever?

(Rafe Cameron x pogue!reader, 6.9k words)

part 1

summary: Six months after Rafe walked out of your life, you're finally picking up the shattered pieces he left in his wake. When you accidentally find yourself working at his wedding, your thrown right back into the chaos you thought you were free from.

content: angst/smut, 18+ minors do not interact!, mentions of alcohol abuse and drugs, mentions of cheating, what could be considered infiedelity

a/n: as a fair warning, the angst only gets worse in this one. however, I promise the third and final part will see a satisfying and happy ending for these two if you stick with me. also, this one got wordy, but after struggling with it for a while i'm very happy with how it turned out. thank you to this anon for inspo and for everyone's support on pt. 1.

₊ ˚ ‧₊ .:･˚₊ ˚ ‧₊ .:･˚₊ *˚˚₊ ˚ ‧₊ .:･˚₊ ˚ ‧₊ .:･˚₊ *˚˚₊ ˚ ‧₊ .:･˚₊

Crickets chirped a chorus around you as you laid back on the flannel blanket, the grass beneath making a soft pillow for your head. Your lips wrapped around the blunt, lungs expanding to welcome the smoke. You hummed in pleasure as the high-end strain went down way smoother than any of the trash you would usually get on The Cut.

“God, this is good shit,” you said with a lazy smile.

“Only the best for you,” Rafe smirked, leaning over on the blanket to pull the joint from your lips so he could join in your revelry.

He took a long drag and let it go in a smoke ring that rose above you and disappeared into the starry sky. You tried and failed to stifle your laugh.

“What’s funny?” He asked, eyes glazed over with his high.

“Nothing,” you chuckled. “Just…what frat house did you learn that in?”

“Shut up,” he teased back, making you laugh harder.

“No, I’m sure the sorority girls found that very sexy,” you continued.

“They did actually, thank you,” he joked. “You would’ve too.”

“Yeah right, I’d make a great Phi Beta Whateverthefuck,” you huffed sarcastically.

“Did you go to college?” He asked.

You’d known Rafe for about three months, spending nearly every night together since you first met at that club. You had talked about just about everything under the sun except yourselves, you were caught off-guard by this excavation into your history.

“Um, no,” you answered, taking the blunt back from him.

“Why not?”

You shrugged, taking another hit, “didn’t wanna.”

“Do you regret it?” He continued.

You sat up and pulled your knees to your chest, looking down at him with a frown.

“What?” He questioned.

“Why the sudden interest?” You said, harsher and less playful than you’d intended to.

Rafe sat up next to you, pulling his knees towards himself to mirror you. His eyes were intense on your face as he mumbled, “you don’t want me to get to know you?”

Truthfully, you wanted that and so much more, but you couldn’t tell him that. You knew this was just a way for him to pass the time until he could get you in bed again, and maybe you were okay with that. You decided you’d entertain the line of questioning, just this once, not knowing then that this was just the first of many deep, meaningful conversations you’d share with him.

You took a deep breath and said, “what do you want to know?”

He looked up at the stars as he considered the answer to that question. You took the opportunity to admire the way the moonlight reflected off of the sharp angle of his jaw.

He decided on “what’s your biggest dream?”

You bit your lip and looked down at your bare feet, digging them into the blanket, not used to this kind of conversation and yet feeling curiously comfortable opening up to him.

“I want to go to India,” you answered honestly. “I read a book when I was a kid about a little girl who grew up in India and I’ve wanted to go ever since.”

Rafe nodded in approval, “that’s a good one. You should go.”

“Yeah, as soon as I win the lottery, it’ll be my first stop,” you joked bitterly.

“Or I could just take you,” he shrugged.

You smiled at him, incredulous. 

“What?” He asked, genuinely unsure of the meaning behind the look you were giving him. You realized he might actually be serious, even though you knew it would never really happen.

“Nothing. That’s sweet,” you smiled. “But I want to get there on my own. I wanna earn it.”

“I can respect that,” he conceded. 

“Anytime you wanna lend me that private jet, though, just hit me up,” you teased.

Rafe chuckled, eyebrows raised, “oh I see…you’re using me.”

“I thought that was obvious,” you smiled coyly. 

“Uh-huh,” Rafe said, playfully shoving your shoulders so you fell back onto the blanket. 

You giggled as he climbed over you, caging you in between his arms as he held himself up, looking down at you, tucked perfectly beneath him.

“I think I’m okay with that.”

He leaned down and kissed you, his tongue sweeping over your bottom lip tenderly, lowering himself down until you were chest to chest…

“Are you listening to me?”

Your friend waved her hand in front of your face, trying to get your attention.

“Sorry, what?” You were pulled from your thoughts.

“I said they want us there at four this friday,” she showed you an email on her phone.

“Oh,” you blinked, coming back to the moment. “Where is it?”

“Some mansion on Figure 8. It’s a wedding, but they're doing like a whole weekend thing, so it’s Friday through Sunday. Last time I worked one of these I made over five hundred.”

When she first told you about the catering gig this weekend, you turned her down. You’d been carefully avoiding the north part of the island for the last six months, and a whole weekend would be a high-risk endeavor. However, you didn’t have to check your bank account to know you were near broke, and Figure 8 was where the real money was made. You agreed and ironed your white button down and black slacks, your go-to outfit for catering gigs.

As you pulled up to the address your friend had sent you, you cursed under your breath. The estate was huge, the old house immaculately kept and towering proudly under a crystal blue sky. You turned down the radio as your beat up car sputtered its way up the long, grand drive.

“We’re definitely not on the south side anymore,” you joked to yourself. 

You pulled around back to the service entrance as directed by your friend’s text and tracked her down in the crowd of other blue collar workers. Everyone was moving quickly, arranging the massive party space according to the wishes of some unseen bride and groom. 

You were put to work right away, polishing silverware and arranging it as instructed by the very specific, color-coded diagram you had been given. Tonight was only the rehearsal dinner, and there were two-hundred names on the guestlist. You chatted with your friend as you did various other chores, speculating about who could possibly be the owner of this massive property.

“Maybe it’s a crime lord,” your friend joked. “Like some mafia type shit.”

“Maybe it’s a celebrity,” you guessed. 

You didn’t have to wonder for long. 

“Hey! A little help here!” A delivery driver called to you as he struggled to lift something large and rectangular out of his truck, the mystery item protected with a large, black sheet.

You ran over to give him a hand, and he directed you to a big easel he had set out, “picture of the happy couple,” he explained. You called your friend over, informing her you were about to have all your questions answered.

Once you had set the canvas down, you asked the delivery driver if you could remove the sheet. “I don’t give a fuck, my job’s done,” he said, hopping back in his truck and driving off. You and your friend giggled as you did a little countdown and drumroll routine. You pulled the sheet away and her mouth fell open

“Of fucking course,” she immediately took out her phone to take a picture.

You stepped back to look at the giant, blown up portrait. Every muscle in your body tensed and the blood drained from your face, you grabbed the back of a nearby chair for support. 

There on the oversized canvas, smiling that perfect, crooked, arrogant, beautiful smile, was Rafe Cameron.

He had his arm around the woman you recognized to be the one he’d left you for, calling off your whirlwind love affair in pursuit of something more optically appealing to his family. He’d found it; they were gorgeous together.

Six months had passed since you’d last seen him. The first few months were the hardest you’d ever faced. At first, you went out almost every night, needing to stay shitfaced to keep your mind from wandering to him or your fingers from dialing his number. Eventually, you had to delete him from your phone, not trusting yourself in those late night moments when you missed him so much you thought you might die. No amount of booze or weed could make you forget the feeling of his hands on your body, the sound of his voice, the look in his eyes when he fucked you that last time. Your friends started getting worried. You blacked out so often, you couldn’t keep a job. After three or four months of your reckless behavior, they called a sort of intervention and convinced you to calm down. 

You decided if you were going to be alone, you’d make yourself good company. 

You stopped drinking, and even gave up cigarettes. It took several false starts, but the patch got you through it. You picked up good habits, too, starting your mornings with yoga and meditation. You were planning to go back to school, tired of career-hopping through dead-end minimum wage jobs. You stopped eating take out so much, started grocery shopping and saving every spare cent you had for a travel fund. You even cut and dyed your hair, finding freedom in the ability to change whenever you wanted, in the fluidity of answering to no one but yourself. You were still untamed, but for the first time in your life, you felt a semblance of control. You decided you’d build a beautiful life even if you had to scratch and claw your way to it. And you’d do it all by yourself.

Slowly, and with the most effort you’d given anything ever, you were finally starting to get over Rafe Cameron.

Or so you thought. Now, standing in his backyard, decorating for his wedding, you felt like you were right back where you were that night in June, lying naked on your bed while he walked out of your life forever.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” A high-pitched, angry voice startled you, pulling your eyes away from the picture.

You whipped your head around to see her, even more stunning than she was in pictures, her wide Disney-princess eyes shooting daggers at you. Your first and most irrational thought was that she somehow knew who you were. The delusion of that concept was quickly made apparent.

“The picture was supposed to stay covered until tonight,” she barked at you and your friend, who looked at you with wide-eyed panic. “Aren’t you the fucking caterers? Why are you even out here?”

“S-sorry,” you stammered out, your mind reeling as it tried to connect to your reality. You picked up the sheet off the ground. “We’ll cover it back up.”

“No, don’t touch it! Where’s your manager?” She demanded, her hands on her hips. “They need to know about this. What are your names?”

Your friend looked at you with wide eyes, you knew she needed this job even more desperately than you did. Plus, she’d stuck her neck out to get you hired and now she’d lose the money and her credibility.

“It was me,” you blurted out. “Not her. Don’t worry, you don’t need to get anyone fired, I’ll just leave.”

It wasn’t a big sacrifice, considering you were already thinking if you stayed another minute you might have a full blown panic attack. At least if you threw yourself under the bus and got fired, your friend would have no reason to question why you ran from the property crying.

“Fine, whatever,” she dismissed your act of loyalty with a wave of her manicured hand while your friend looked at you with grateful eyes. “What’s your name then?”

“Don’t worry about it,” you handed her the sheet, which she snatched from your hands irritably. “I’ll just go.”

You tried to keep your composure as you walked back toward the house, praying you’d remember your way back to your car. Your heart was pounding, your anxiety and shock threatening to bubble over, you could feel tears springing up and your hands shaking.

You rounded one of the many corners of the massive house, finally out of her line of vision, and broke into a sprint. You passed through another courtyard, where more preparations were underway. There were far too many eyes on you. If you remembered correctly, there was only one more turn before the part of the property you were parked on.

Dirt crunching under your feet, you slid around the corner and straight into something hard and large. You let out a sharp “ouch” as your face burned with the force of the collision. To your horror, you realized you’d run into a person. You kept your eyes low, looking at the man’s feet as you held a hand over your face, wondering for a moment if you’d broken your nose. Then, a familiar scent flooded your senses, and you felt a large hand rest on your shoulder. 

“Woah, I’m sorry, are you okay?” Rafe’s voice asked, clearly unaware of who he was talking to, you looked so different than you did six months ago.

You raised your wide eyes to look at him, hand still cradling your throbbing nose. You took him in through rapidly blinking lashes, begging yourself not to cry. His face shifted slowly from concern for a stranger to recognition of someone all too familiar.

He pulled his hand from you in shock, his mouth opening and closing and opening again, trying to form words that just weren’t coming. You knew you needed to get out of there before they did.

“I’m fine,” you said firmly, hoping he understood you were talking about more than just your injured face.

You sidestepped him and kept running, leaving him standing wide eyed and ashen faced as he watched you get into your car and peel away from his home, and away from him. 

₊ ˚ ‧₊ .:･˚₊ ˚ ‧₊ .:･˚₊ *˚˚₊ ˚ ‧₊ .:･˚₊ ˚ ‧₊ .:･˚₊ *˚˚₊ ˚ ‧₊

The key rattled against the lock, your hands shaking as you tried to get into your apartment. When you finally got the door opened, you peeled off your clothes quickly, as if they were covered in something radioactive. You pulled on a tank and some sleep shorts, fully ready to get in bed and stay there for days. Everything in you was unraveling. The sight and sound of him undoing the steel backbone you had built for yourself. You climbed under the covers, curled into a ball, and sobbed.

You cried so hard, it knocked you out. Without trying to, your body fell into a hazy, uneasy kind of sleep, haunted by images of Rafe. When you woke, blinking confusedly at the fuzzy outline of the time on your alarm clock, it was dark outside. The clock read 11:03pm. You pulled yourself from your bed with a groan, craving something to comfort you in your post-meltdown emptiness.

As you stood at the sink, filling the kettle for some tea, your mind replayed the events of the day. He’s getting married tomorrow. The rehearsal dinner that you helped set up for was probably over by now. You pictured him saying goodnight to her with a kiss, hanging his tux for the morning, making sure he had the rings ready. You already knew you’d lost him, but the permanence of tomorrow’s events felt like a boot on the neck of the small part of you that still wondered what if.

Your phone rang out loudly on the kitchen table, making you jump, so startled you almost dropped the tea kettle, the water now overflowing. You set the kettle down on the stove and turned on the burner before looking at your phone screen, which read “unknown number.” You hit decline and let it go to voicemail. After a minute, you poured your tea and sat at the table, watching as your phone lit up again with notification of a new voicemail. You unlocked it and pressed play.

You knew the voice immediately, though it was coming out slurred and strained. You clutched the phone to your ear with both hands to hear better.

“Heyyyy baby. It’s me. I’m sorry for calling so many times, blowin’ up your phone and you’re probably out somewhere, looking fuckin’ gorgeous like always. Shit there’s probably guys lined up to take you home. Do you remember when we met? Fuck you looked so hot. I thought if you said no to going home with me I might literally die. But you said yes! You said yes and you took me home and we, fuck…god…it was so good, you’re so good. Not just the sex. I mean, yes your pussy is so perfect, but…shit it’s raining…but you were- you are…jesus Rafe get it together. I can’t remember what I was saying. I’m so drunk, I- ouch, fuck!- I miss you, baby. It's cold out here but I don’t care, I couldn’t be there anymore. I couldn’t listen to them talk about this fucking wedding. Fucking flowers and table settings and shit I don’t care about any of that…just, please…baby…I need-”

Your phone beeped loudly, the voicemail cut off for length. You replayed it, twice. Outside your kitchen window, you could see the rain getting heavy. The low was in the 30s tonight, and it was supposed to keep raining for hours. You couldn’t hear much in the background behind Rafe’s drunken rambling, but you could tell he was outside. You pictured him stumbling into a ditch somewhere. He had hurt himself on the voicemail, did he fall? You couldn’t stand the thought of him alone, out in the cold rain, hurt.

Despite every instinct, you pulled up the number he called from and texted him.

Today 11:14pm

Where are you?

Today 11:16pm

‘Unknown’ shared their location with you.

You grabbed your coat and keys and ran out the door before you had time to second guess yourself. You found him lying on the beach, his clothes soaked through from the rain that was still falling heavily. He’d clearly thrown up, just a few feet from where he was laying now. You ran to his side and quickly checked that he was breathing.

“Jesus, Rafe,” you recoiled at the overwhelming aroma of booze radiating off of him.

His eyes flew open at the sound of your voice. 

“Baby?” he groaned.

“We gotta get out of here, Rafe,” you struggled to help him up.

With an enormous amount of effort, you got him into your car. He leaned his head against the cold window as you drove, his breath fogging up the glass with each exhale. You looked over at him every few seconds to make sure he was still conscious. 

Once in your apartment, stumbling through the door with his arm over your shoulder, you led him into the bathroom, guiding him to sit on the edge of the tub while you ran the shower, water heating slowly.

You tapped his arms. 

“Up,” you instructed. He lifted his arms obediently and looked up at you through half-lidded eyes as you peeled off his wet polo, doing everything you could to avoid staring at his bare torso.

“Think you can do the rest yourself?” You motioned to his lower half.

“No,” he said with a smirk.

“Rafe,” you warned, not playing around.

“I can do the rest myself,” he said with his hands up in defense. 

You left him in the bathroom fumbling with his belt. While he showered, you brewed a pot of coffee and poured two steaming mugs, sitting uneasily at the table when he finally emerged from the bathroom. He was in only his boxers and you blushed aggressively, as if you hadn’t seen him naked a hundred times before. He caught the redness in your cheeks as you looked down at your hands, swallowing hard.

“Sorry,” he said earnestly. “My clothes are still wet.”

You pushed back your chair and walked to your bedroom, returning with folded clothes in your hands. He looked suspiciously at the men’s t-shirt and basketball shorts you gave him, cocking his eyebrow at you. You just glared back at him, tilting your head slightly as if to say I dare you to give me shit about where I got them. He didn’t push it, pulling them on wordlessly.

“Coffee?” You offered once he was dressed.

“Please,” he slumped into the chair across from you, sipping the coffee with a sigh.

“Feeling better?” You asked.

“Much better, thanks,” he said. “Never mix rum and redbull.”

You snorted, “I could’ve told you that.”

“Well you weren’t there were you?” The sentence started playfully but ended with a bite.

You sipped your coffee, wondering who would be first to acknowledge the elephant in the room. You sat in silence for a few minutes, both drinking your coffee and letting the air grow thick between you.

Finally, he caved and spoke first, “why’d you leave?”

“Why would I stay?” You responded, voice dripping with spite.

“I- I guess I don’t know.” Now it was Rafe avoiding your eyes.

“Does she know…about me?” You asked timidly.

“No,” he mumbled, before sipping up the last drop of his coffee.

“And where does she think you are right now?” 

“My bachelor party.”

“We should get you back there, then.” You stood and collected both mugs, bringing them to the sink.

Rafe scoffed, “you’re kicking me out again?”

“I never kicked you out, Rafe. You left,” you said, clutching the edge of the sink, bracing for an argument.

But he didn’t argue, he just let the silence settle between you for a long moment before finally saying, “I wish I hadn’t. I miss you.”

You turned, expecting to find him still slumped over the table, but he had stood and was now startlingly close. You jolted, squaring your shoulders in defense as he got closer to you.

“Don’t say that,” you pleaded. “I can’t do this with you.”

“Then why’d you come get me?” He asked, his eyelids low as he looked down at you. “Why’d you bring me here?

“Why’d you call me?” You asked back.

“I asked you first,” he said, no playful smile to match his childish words.

“Why does it matter?” You sighed.

“‘Cause it does, it matters to me, please just give me a reason,” his voice grew more desperate as he stepped even closer to you, his looming body caging you against the sink. He searched your face as he waited for you to respond, needing an answer you couldn’t give him.

“Are you gonna marry her?” Your words tightened the tension already growing between you, causing Rafe to close his eyes in frustration.

“I don’t want to talk about her,” he shook his head. 

Rafe lifted his hand slowly, placing it on your waist. He squeezed gently at the soft skin of your side. You leaned into his touch for just a second before coming to your senses.

“Are you? Going to marry her?” You repeated stubbornly.

“Yes,” He said, eyes falling from your face to his hand on your side.

“Then you shouldn’t be touching me,” you grabbed Rafe’s hand and lowered it from you. “I won’t be a mistress. I won’t be that dirty pogue who fucks a married guy, I wanna be something better than that.” 

You slipped out from between him and the sink, pacing to the other side of the room, but his body turned aggressively to follow you.

“You are. You’re so much better,” his voice cracked with urgency as he rushed to reassure you.

You shook your head in anger, raising your voice as you snapped, “then why are you marrying someone else?”

“Because I have to!” He matched your heated tone, as if he was the one to have something to be mad about.

“We’re going in circles, Rafe! We are in the exact same spot we were six months ago! Except I’m a different person now. It changed me, losing you. I got better, I got healthy, I got sober. I got over you!” You were yelling now, searching for the words to make him understand that he wasn’t the only one who had something to lose now.

“Well I didn’t get over you,” he stated simply.

“No, you got engaged,” you pointed out.

“Fuck that, fuck her, you know I don’t love her!” He scoffed. “You saw her today, you know she’s a bitch.”

“That’s really nice, Rafe, you should put that in your vows,” you huffed sarcastically.

“Oh c’mon, she doesn’t love me either,” he rolled his eyes. “She still fucks around, everyone knows it.”

He said it like it was the most obvious thing in the world, but it took you by surprise. You searched his face for a sign as to whether it was true or just something he made up to make you sympathize with him. The way his eyes fell to the ground and the apples of his cheeks blushed slightly told you it was true, she cheated on him, and he was ashamed of it. It made you sick, the thought of someone having him so close and caring so little. The only thing worse than the thought of her treating him like that was the thought of him accepting it as if it was what he deserved. You should’ve felt sad for him, but it just made you angrier.

“Then why, Rafe? Why?” You knew you were becoming a broken record but you just could not wrap your head around his choice. “Why are you still with her?” You hated the way it made you sound like you were blaming him for her actions, but you needed to understand.

“Because I’m going to have to end up with someone like her anyway, I may as well just get it over with,” he said with a resigned shake of his head.

“That’s fucked up, Rafe,” you said, even though you knew he already knew it.

“It is what it is,” he shrugged, defeated.

Your eyes caught the clock on your stove. It was almost 1am. Rafe was supposed to be saying his vows in twelve hours, and you knew if he stood here in your apartment for another minute, looking at you so helplessly, you’d crumble for him.

“I think you should go home,” you said, trying and failing to mean it.

“Not yet,” Rafe said, his tone implying there was something more he was waiting for.

And even though you wanted to, you just couldn’t give it to him. 

Mustering the last of your pride, you took a deep breath and said, “If you’re waiting for me to ask you not to marry her, we’re both gonna be disappointed. I’ve been doing good, Rafe. I got my life together, and I won’t be responsible for ruining someone else’s. It’s not on me, you have to decide. If you don’t want to marry her, then don’t marry her. But do it for you, because I’ve got me covered.”

Rafe considered your words, standing completely still as they washed over him. He had to choose. He could either ruin his reputation and potentially lose his family to be happy with you or keep the lifestyle he’d grown so accustomed to and be miserable with her. He looked so sad, and you desperately wanted to ask him what he was thinking, but you stayed silent, wanting him to say what he was feeling all on his own for once. You needed a simple answer.

But Rafe Cameron never did anything the simple way.

He didn’t say anything,  he just started walking toward you. Once he was close enough to touch you, and your back was against the wall, he reached up to touch your face gently with one finger, silently asking if you were still in pain from your collision earlier. When you didn’t wince or push him away, he leaned down, bringing his lips dangerously close to yours.

“Just one more time, please. Don’t kick me out, be with me one more time,” he whispered against your skin.

You shook your head slowly, whispering back, “I won’t kick you out, but I also won’t let you touch me and then marry her.”

“Fine, I won’t touch you.” 

Rafe leaned back, only slightly, pulling his face away so you were level with his chest. He folded his hands behind his back to show you he meant it. You could smell his familiar musk, his chest so close to your face you could hear his heartbeat as you looked up at the pulsing veins in his neck. His hair, still wet from the shower, flopped messily over his forehead. A single drop fell from his bangs and landed on your collarbone. Rafe’s eyes darkened as he tracked the droplet rolling across your exposed skin, down your chest, over the curve of your tits and finally disappearing into your tank top.

Eyes locked to Rafe’s, you lifted your hand slowly, placing it over the spot the water had fallen, sliding your fingers delicately down the drop’s path. When you reached the neckline of your tank top, Rafe’s eyes consuming every movement, you reached up with your other hand and lowered one of the straps of your top slowly. You dragged your hand down further, cupping your breast through your lacy bralette and biting your lip at the pressure.

Rafe’s jaw clenched. He put one hand on the wall next to your head to steady himself, bringing his body impossibly closer while still not touching you. His other hand fell to his side, moving dangerously close to his dick.

“You better not touch yourself either, or I swear to god I’ll stop,” you warned him.

“Don’t stop,” He brought the drifting hand up to the wall on the other side of your head. “Please, baby.”

Butterflies erupted in your stomach at his voice, raspy and strained with need. With two hands on the hem of your shirt, you pulled it slowly over your head, leaving you in just the see-through undergarment. 

“Take that off too,” Rafe tried to sound dominant, but his voice cracked, betraying him.

“You’re not in any position to make demands,” you scolded with a shake of your head. “And you’re not going to see me naked. You have a fianceé for that.”

Rafe was pained by this, his nostrils flailing as he clenched his jaw in frustration. You ignored him and put your hands back on your body, palming both of your tits again before trailing lower over your stomach. Rafe’s tongue darted out of his mouth and licked his lips as he watched the way your stomach flexed with anticipation, hands finally landing on the waistband of your sleep shorts. One hand pulled the elastic back while the other slid beneath it slowly. When your fingers ran over the fabric of your panties, teasing your clothed clit, your head fell back against the wall and your jaw fell slack. Rafe ran one of his hands through his hair as he watched pleasure flood your face, desperate to touch something, anything. The hand still on the wall closed into a fist. You started rubbing circles over your clit through your panties, the fabric already soaked through, wet since the sight of him in his boxers. Your breath hitched when you found the perfect rhythm and you closed your eyes tight, a melodic moan rising from your throat.

“Fuck baby, you’re so fucking sexy,” Rafe growled through gritted teeth.

Your eyes flew open and you pulled your hand from your shorts, suddenly very aware of the lack of space between you and the vulgarity of what you were doing. You slid under his arm and hurried to the other side of the kitchen.

“You should go,” you whispered, wrapping your arms around yourself and shivering at the sudden loss of his warmth.

Rafe stayed still, trying not to spook you. His head dipped low, looking down at his ringing hands.

“I missed you,” he mumbled helplessly.

“You mean you missed fucking me?” You asked spitefully.

One agonizingly slow step at a time, Rafe crossed the room. You turned from him as if to push him away, literally giving him the cold shoulder. But he wasn’t deterred, he just got closer and closer until he was right behind you, close enough for his breath to sweep across your shoulder as he said, “yeah, what if I do? I miss it so much. There’s not a day that passes without me wishing I was here, fucking you so good you scream my name.”

His arrogant words made you so fucking angry, and so fucking wet.

What little resistance you had mustered disappeared. Breathless, you whispered, “what else do you miss?”

“I miss your little moans,” he continued, the corner of his lips raising slightly at the sight of the goosebumps that shot up your arms. “I bet you still cry out for me when you make yourself come, don’t you? I want you to show me.”

“We can’t do this,” you shook your head.

“No, I can’t do this,” he corrected you. “You can do whatever you want.”

No fight left, you took his suggestion, and soon you were laying back on your bed, your shorts thrown on the floor, your hand moving feverishly under your panties. Rafe laid next to you, his body drawn in as close as it could possibly get while keeping his promise not to touch you. You’d made no such promise, the hand you weren’t rubbing over your slick folds gripping his arm for purchase as you moaned at your own touch.

“Talk to me,” you begged.

“Yeah?” He said excitedly, as if he had been waiting for permission. 

You nodded desperately, bringing your eyes to his as one of your fingers dropped down to enter yourself.

“You remember the first time we fucked?” He began. “Right here on this bed. I took you from behind. You were so tight around my cock, like you were fucking made for me.”

You added a second finger, driven by his filthy words. His jaw clenched, restraining himself with more effort than he’d ever given anything as he watched you writhe.

“Keep going,” you whined, eyes squeezed shut.

“I had to turn you around, I had to see that pretty face when you came for me for the first time,” he recalled. “God, I bet you wish it was me stretching you out right now, don’t you? You wish it was my cock pounding you into the mattress until you can’t breathe, huh?”

“Mhm,” you nodded, lips pouting, overwhelmed by the memories and your need to feel him.

“Best pussy I’ve ever had,” he groaned, feeling himself twitching in his pants, desperate for his own release but committed to yours. “I need to see you come, baby, one more time. Please come for me?”

You cried out as you clenched around your own fingers, their size so inadequate with him so close, knowing what he could be doing to you. But you meant what you said, you couldn’t let him touch you, not while his bride was sleeping just across town, no idea her groom was in some pogue’s bed, begging her to come for him. Maybe it was sick, but the thought of him being so desperate for you that he was risking everything with her made your thighs clench around your hand, nearing the edge.

“Tell me about the first time you saw me,” you pleaded, the rasp in your voice warning him you were close. 

“Holy shit, baby, you were so fucking sexy,” he said, rising up from the bed and propping himself on his arm to hover over you, the proximity throwing you into even more of a frenzy. “Dancing in that club, the way you move, shit, I wanted to lay you down on that dancefloor and fuck you right there. So did every other guy in there. But they didn’t get to have you, I did. And I’ve never been the same since I first touched you.”

It was all too much, his words, the memory, the sensation of your fingers sliding in and out so easily, the way he was talking making you so wet. Your high crashed into you like a truck, your back arching off the bed, your chest bumping into his as you came with his name on your lips.

“There she is, that’s my girl,” Rafe exhaled as you rode out your high. Eventually, your muscles gave out from the pleasure and you slumped back into the bed.

He watched you in rapture as your chest rose and fell with labored breaths, struggling to recover. Neither of you knew what to do next, the shock of what just happened washing over you. Your body was so exhausted from the chaos of the day and the aftershocks of your orgasm, all you wanted was him, and you were too tired to fight it.

“Rafe?” You whispered into the darkness of your bedroom, the light of the moon the only thing illuminating the small space.

“Yeah?” He whispered back.

“Can you hold me?” Your voice sounded so small, and you hated the vulnerability of your request, but at this moment the only thing you wanted in the world was to feel his arms around you.

“I thought you didn’t want me to touch you?” He teased gently.

“I said I’m getting better, not that I’m perfect,” you smiled, turning your body towards him. “And I want to know what it feels like to fall asleep in your arms. Just once.”

“Is it gonna be an issue?” He asked. You knew what he really meant was, “are you going to regret sleeping with an engaged man?”

The answer was yes, but you didn’t care.

“Just let me be a little selfish,” you said, turning around so your back was against his chest, pulling his arm around you. “I had you first.”

“You still have me,” he whispered against your neck, pulling your body into his.

“Shhh,” you said, lifting your fingers gently to his lips. “Go to sleep, Rafe.”

He smiled and did as he was told.

₊ ˚ ‧₊ .:･˚₊ ˚ ‧₊ .:･˚₊ *˚˚₊ ˚ ‧₊ .:･˚₊ ˚ ‧₊ .:･˚₊ *˚˚₊ ˚ ‧₊

The sunlight landing on your face is what woke you from the deepest and sweetest sleep you’d had in six months. Your first instinct was to smile, humming in satisfaction as you stretched your well rested muscles.

Your second instinct was to reach for him. 

You shouldn’t be surprised, shouldn’t pull your knees to your chest, shouldn’t be crying alone in your cold bed. Of course he left. He was always going to leave.

Some small, pathetic voice in the back of your mind said, “maybe he just went to break things off with her.”

Even though it made you feel like the most pitiful girl in the world, you checked his location, still available from the night before. He was on Figure 8, the address you had gone to yesterday. He was at his wedding. 

He had wanted you to ask him not to marry her. He never would’ve said it, but you could see it on his face. He had too much to lose, too many people depending on him, too much weight on his shoulders. But maybe he would’ve given it all up, if only you’d asked.

You threw your phone across the room in frustration. Maybe you should’ve just asked him to stay with you, maybe you should’ve put your pride aside this one time, maybe this was all your fault. 

You were up and out of bed before you had time to talk yourself out of it. You pulled on your catering clothes from the night before. Surely, they wouldn’t let you in the gate if you looked like some wedding crashing pogue, but maybe you could slip in undetected if it seemed like you still worked there.

You don’t even remember driving there, your stomach on fire with nerves and something that might even be excitement, as you raced across the island. The clock in your car read 1:03pm, and you prayed to whatever god was listening that the ceremony had started late.

As you planned, they let you right in the gate when you said you were with the caterer. You didn’t even bother to park at the service entrance, your tires squealing as you came to a stop right in front of the house, leaving the engine running as you ran towards the ceremony site. You could hear music playing in the distance, hoping it was the processional. 

But when you turned the corner, you heard a large crowd break into applause. You came to a halt, backing up to hide under the cover of a tree a few yards from the end of the aisle. You watched as Rafe appeared, his beaming bride on his arm. He dipped her low, giving her a kiss as the crowd cheered again, the gold ring on his left hand glinting in the sunlight.

You were too late.

₊ ˚ ‧₊ .:･˚₊ ˚ ‧₊ .:･˚₊ *˚˚₊ ˚ ‧₊ .:･˚₊ ˚ ‧₊ .:･˚₊ *˚˚₊ ˚ ‧₊ .:･˚₊ ˚ ‧₊

pt. 3 coming soon

[lion-writer]

I’ve seen a lot of headcanons and fics where Viago disapproves of Rook getting together with Lucanis. And ones that focus on how an alliance with the De Rivas benefits House Dellamorte, which is definitely true, and i fucking love them, but consider Viago probably couldn’t possibly ask for a better partner for Rook.

Though to be fair I am obsessed with Viago and his belief that he could restore the royal power of Treviso and that “He will not be satisfied until he sits upon a throne.”

While as a talon, he’s definitely more powerful than the king, and he could probably easily overthrow his father and take the throne. But that's probably not his biggest issue, because as my old history teacher used to say, “Power cannot be created or destroyed, only transferred”, so by restoring the power of the royal family, he’d be taking power away from the merchant princes and the other talons. Which, it’s probably safe to assume they wouldn't be happy about”. (Also as a side note, the quote “It’s not paranoia if they’re out to get you” is applicable here. Viago is a man planning to make A Lot of enemies)

And remember, this man is still the 5th talon, and while he’s allied with Teia, she’s also only the 7th talon. (Though they definitely should have gotten a promotion after the events of 8 little talons). So he’s not really in any position to actually make any power play, not unless he wants to piss off 6 of the other houses. 

Thankfully, depending on the choices you make, by the end of Veilguard, he’s almost certainly up there among the most powerful people in Antiva, given that he was a key player in ending the occupation of a major city by the Antaam, not to mention the killing of a Literal Evil God. The only Antivans that could be more influential than him at this moment is Teia, who he’s dating and let's be honest, will eventually marry, Rook, who’s his protege, 

Among those people, Lucanis is probably the most politically powerful, given that he’s done everything Viago has, in addition to the fact that he actually killed a god, and is now The First Talon. While I feel that he would support Viago in the bid for the throne, he’s also the only one who Viago doesn’t have any sort of formal alliance with. And considering Viago’s general distrust towards basically everyone, he wouldn’t place that much trust in the bonds of friendship, (especially if you believe that he thinks that Lucanis’s attempt at flirting was a threat).

But given the general political upheaval Antiva is probably already in right now, because It’s highly doubtful that Governor Ivenci was the only guy to make deals with the Antaam or Venatori for power, there’s no better time for Viago to make a play for power. With everything so recent it would be so easy for him to step forwards as a figure for people to rally behind, I mean he exposed corruption in the government, he freed Treviso, he trained a god killer, and he’s the son of the king. But If he waits, he kinda does risk somebody else stepping forth.

But after Ivenci’s attempt at getting rid of the crows and the whole Illario debacle, the other Talons would be very suspicious of anyone trying to take power, and while Viago is a Crow, he’s also an infamous curmudgeon who doesn’t really get along with the others. 

Luckily, Lucanis is head over heels for Rook, which cements an alliance with House Dellamorte. And well, there’s quite a historical precedent, especially in Antiva, for alliances and weddings to go hand in hand. Not to mention the message it would send to the other talons for Viago to give away Rook, his protege for whom he has already demonstrated a soft spot for, to The First Talon, arguably The Face of the Crows. In addition, a grand high profile Wedding between two heroes who just saved the world, is the perfect thing for the general public to associate Viago with after everything. 

I mean I’m pretty sure he would still grumble about it and he’d definitely let Lucanis know that if he ever dared to hurt Rook, Lucanis would wish he was still trapped in the Ossuary. But once he’s certain that they’re serious about each other, Teia and him would be the first people to start bugging them about marriage.

[gutsby]

Joel Miller

Waiting Game (dbf!Joel)

Joel has mastered the art of self-control in all areas except one: not fucking his friend’s daughter. A cross-country road trip home from college takes a hard turn when he’s forced to share a motel room with you.

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5

One shots for the Waiting Game ‘verse

Homemade: While your dad’s watching a movie downstairs, you and his best friend decide to make one of your own.

Diehard: Joel tries Viagra for the very first time.

Ruined!: Joel is an old man who struggles to cum sometimes. You’ve got time to kill and a tight hole to fill.

Cabin Fever (Dark!Joel x Dark!Reader) [DEAD DOVE]

Joel saves your life, but help comes at a price.

Confines: Joel locks you up in a subterranean bunker.

Finders Keepers (bfd!Joel)

When you find an old shirt of Mr. Miller’s lying around, you can’t resist. When he finds you humping a pillow and moaning his name, neither can he.

Cry, Baby

Joel fucks you to the point of tears. That’s all.

Just Peachy [anal]

Joel’s got a jealous streak and a bold idea.

Wingman (himbo!Joel crackfic)

Your bestie braves the tampon aisle for you.

Watch Your Mouth

Joel teaches you to keep quiet during sex.

Love Tap (dad!Joel)

Old habits die hard with your husband—touching you at inappropriate times is one of them.

If You Like Piña Coladas (neighbor!Joel)

You secretly make Joel a profile on Hinge. Then he shows you exactly why he doesn’t need one.

My Body, His Choice [freeuse]

After a long day, Joel just needs some relief.

Who’s Your Daddy? (stepdad!Joel)

You get stuck in the washing machine. Thankfully, your stepdad is around to help you out.

Make It Stick

Joel never thought he’d need a vasectomy. Then, one night, he accidentally finishes inside you.

Stiff: At fifty-nine, Joel isn’t sure his dick can keep up with every day it’s going to take to get you pregnant. He seeks help from Jackson’s local apothecary and gets more than bargained for when that little blue pill kicks in.

Cowboy Killers

On a mission to find—and fight—your best friend’s lying, cheating boyfriend at the bar, you end up throwing your drink in the wrong face and landing in a sticky situation with Joel Miller, who never plays fair.

Seeing Pink [DD/LG]

Joel steals more of your innocence every day. Fortunately, you love to give as much as he loves to take.

Easy to Please (sleazy landlord!Joel)

Months pass, and you can’t make rent—again. You find another way to pay your sleazy landlord. Again.

Wants and Needs (sugar daddy!Joel)

Bills are high; your dad’s boss wants to help. How you pay him stays between you and him—for now.

Bigger in Texas

Joel won’t fit.

Marcus Acacius

Bloodline

The General needs an heir.

Bucky Barnes

Wedded Bliss (Mob!Bucky)

The marriage was arranged, and the sex is deranged. Bucky is so obsessed with your pussy that he almost forgets he’s meant to be faking this whole thing—and hating it, like sworn enemies are supposed to do.

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5

Daryl Dixon

Dead Ringer

Weeks of separation and sexual frustration come to a head when Daryl pays you a visit in the middle of the night. Whether it's the product of your own sex-deprived subconscious or reality, you can't be sure—and couldn't care less. Daryl wants to fulfill the fantasy any way he can.

Easy Street

You steal a cop car and almost run Daryl over en route to the Sanctuary. You can’t decide if you want to fight him, fuck him, or bring him back to Negan. Lucky for you, Daryl is game for all three.

Nighthawk

You decide to bring Spencer to the neighborhood Halloween bash to take your mind off your breakup with Daryl. Your ex isn't so easily convinced of your intentions and decides there's no better place than his motorcycle to show you just how much he misses you.

Cherry Pie

You know virtually nothing about sex, and Daryl’s done it all. Together, you take on an impromptu anatomy lesson, and you learn that Daryl has a lot more to teach you than what’s covered in the textbooks.

Walker Bait

An unforeseen foray into a sex shop leaves you and Daryl trapped between a plastic cock and a hard place as a herd of walkers closes in. Angry sex ensues.

Grow a Uterus and We’ll Talk

Daryl has a bad case of baby fever, to put it lightly. You’re practically terrified of children. Rick lends you his kid for the night, and together, you come to learn that parenthood might not be the worst thing in the world. Even easier than baking muffins, one might say.

Honey Trap

You’ve been tasked with two simple jobs: infiltrate Alexandria’s community and bring intel back to your boss by any means necessary. When your entry point into the group takes the form of a familiar blue-eyed archer, you expect this to be your easiest gig yet—that is, until your prey decides to hunt you back.

Pregnant Pause

Babymaking is a bit trickier than anticipated, and months have passed with no sign of pregnancy. When your period finally doesn’t show up on time, you and Daryl act fast and head straight for the pharmacy—and get a little caught up along the way.

Mr. Dixon

Your efforts to seduce the DILF next door have all failed spectacularly, so you decide a wet hot car wash in front of his house is in order. Mr. Dixon is less than impressed with your antics and plans to teach you a lesson in good manners and ‘neighborliness.’

I’m a Good Girl, Officer!

Apparently flashing your tits to truckers on the freeway is frowned upon in small towns like yours. When three familiar King County cops take charge of the case, you learn they punish bad girls a little differently.

Playing Dangerous

Working undercover in a seedy part of town, homicide detective Daryl sees you in your skimpy club attire and mistakes you for a hooker. A wrongful arrest makes for a funny way to foreplay, but you’re still game.

Fake It Til You Make It (Or Drown)

Daryl finds out you faked an orgasm. Instead of getting mad, he decides to get even.

Best Served Cold

Since your fiancé can’t seem to keep his hands off of Lori, you decide Daryl is the perfect way to make him pay. Revenge sex has never felt so good.

Coming Soon:

Bite the Bullet

Back at the prison, new recruits have been showering you with gifts. One of these presents doesn’t sit quite right with Daryl, and he decides it’s time to let the men know just how he feels—and who you belong to.

Atlantic City

A very drunk Daryl meets a stripper in Jersey and wastes no time putting a ring on her finger. With the late, great Elvis Presley presiding, the two get hitched in a slipshod ceremony a couple weeks before the world descends into chaos. This marriage may be short-lived, but damn if the honeymoon won’t be one to remember.

Requests are open!

[two-white-butterflies]

love by listening | daemon targaryen

Description: Daemon Targaryen goes rogue after his wedding to Lady Rhea Royce, unwilling to consummate the marriage. He finds peace in a Dornish tavern. You meet him in said tavern, and quickly become close friends. You share an adventure. Both unaware that the other person is nobility.

graphics from @saradika-graphics

Pairing: princess of dorne!reader/daemon targaryen

Warning: brief making love (not sex, making love)

A/N: I wanted it to give Dunk and Egg vibes. Reader is bubbly and talkative/has her own ambitions. She does what she wants bcs she's all about that high life. Set in Dorne + young daemon targaryen. open ending.

Daemon didn't believe in gods. He doesn't care about the punishment he'll be given after this. A few hours ago, he was forced to go through the wedding with Lady Rhea Royce. In his opinion, she was not an attractive bride. She was lucky to have come from nobility for she had a basic peasant bitch face.

Despite her odd looks, benevolent Daemon still went through with the marriage. He held his tongue, wanted to make his brother proud - but then they started talking about the bedding ceremony, and Daemon knew that he had to get the hell away from there.

Where did that bring him?

To Caraxes, to flying towards Dorne - and drinking inside of a tavern.

"It's the first time I've seen a foreigner in these parts." your voice breaks him free from his thoughts. He was about to swat you away, but a single look at your face changed his mind.

Beautiful.

There were a lot of pretty maidens in Dorne - but you were one of the most beautiful ones so far. "I did not bring any gold." he warned, under the impression that you were a whore. "Gods, I have no intention of fucking you." you lied, quickly sitting beside him.

"The first time I saw a cock. It was disgusting. I actually vowed to only fuck women after that." you smiled at the memory. Reaching for his ale, and taking a drink of it. "- I suppose I never upheld that promise. Women are beautiful but we are too wet for my taste. Men are just lovely and dry, and they are easier to toy with." you giggle.

He could smell the alcohol on your breath.

You were the first maiden he's seen to speak in that manner. He wonders if the maidens back home are like this too, if it weren't for archaic beliefs silencing their true thoughts. Dorne was a magical fucking place. It was how the rest of the six kingdoms needed to be.

"Why are you talking to me?" he asks, his face stoic just in case you had some tricks up your sleeve.

"Well, you are alone." you pointed out. "- and I am alone. Shouldn't two vagabonds protect each other?" you tilted your head.

"What makes you think that I am alone?" he inquires.

"I've been watching you for quite some time now, love. Are you going to give me your name?" you asked in return, continuing to stare deep into his purple eyes - drawing him closer like a siren to the waves. "I'd like to remain an enigma." he answers, matching your mysteriousness.

He finds himself hypnotized by your eyes. Eyes that were lined with kohl. "I won't share my name too, to be fair." you smiled, and now his attention was drawn towards your lips. Stained red with rouge.

The tension between you was palpable. He felt like a moth to a flame. Allured by this beautiful fire. Leaving only one question in his head: will he burn? Fire cannot harm a dragon. He reminds.

His hands reached for the small of your waist. A sudden boldness. He plays with the textured embroidery of your tunic. Pulling you closer to his body, until you were almost sitting on his lap.

"What will I call you?" he frowned, teasing you.

"Think of something witty." you insisted, fingers dancing along the details of his clothed tunic.

"Gevives, then." he settles on a suitable name. "I am relieved that you find me beautiful, love." you laugh, hands trailing upwards to his collar - pulling him closer until your lips were bridged together.

He melts into the kiss, hands firmly wrapped around your waist. He'd be so easy to poison. But alas, you weren't here to kill him.

He presses you against your bed - the first time he's felt lust in a while. If this was going to be a one-time thing, then he'll be thinking about you until the day he died. He's already placed this encounter in his three best fucks. The way that you looked beneath him, he can almost see himself thirty years later still jerking off to you.

You are fucking beautiful.

Naked - and vulnerable against him.

His hands danced along the curve of your waist, delighted at the smoothness of your skin. You reach for his face, cupping his cheek tenderly - staring at him with fascination. "You are so beautiful, like an illusion." you whispered in a voice that makes him want to sleep.

He positions his member at the entrance of your core.

"So good," you cooed - feeling him begin to thrust. You continued staring at each other, that connection remained unbreakable. "Keep going," you whispered, he couldn't help but smile. So talkative, even when making sweet love. "Gevie," he smiles.

Daemon wakes up to the feeling of light on his exposed skin. He lets out a yawn, rubbing his eyes so it adjusts to the brightness of the room quicker. He takes a deep breath - as he remembers what happened last night.

Last night, he fucked a goddess.

He turns to look at your sleeping form.

Beautiful even when sleeping, he thought.

He was thankful that he commanded Caraxes to return to the Red Keep.

He had no responsibility. None but you.

"Good morrow," you greeted, voice still hoarse from last night. "Good morrow," he responds, wrapping his arms around your waist. This type of touch was foreign to him. He's never wrapped his arms around someone after making love.

It felt domestic. Like how marriage was supposed to be.

"I suppose this is where our paths diverge." he says, unwilling to sound needy. But in actuality, he never wants to leave. He wants to stay like this forever. Inside of an inn, with his arms wrapped around the most beautiful woman in the world.

"Not so soon. I think we should still walk together." you hum, pulling him closer to your body until he was laying on your chest.

"I've made the observation that you have a lot of time on your hands." you breathed, his ears pressed against your chest - listening to your heartbeat.

"Your observation is correct." he confirms.

He had the face of a dangerous man. It was a risk to be in a stranger's company, but your heart told you that he could be trusted. He felt like you - exactly like you.

You kept staring at his body. His toned muscles and broad shoulder. "Are you a knight?" you asked, reminded of the tourney in Starfall.

"I am," he answers truthfully, praying that it was something that you liked about men.

"There is a tournament in Starfall. The prize is a dragon egg." you informed, mind already focused towards the next adventure.

"I shall win a dragon egg for you, then." he announces. He finds no harm in having a little adventure with a maiden. He has won all the tourneys he's attended, after all. "Really? I wanted to steal it." you say.

He responds with a chuckle, pushing a strand of your hair away from your face. How dare you steal his heart. "Why steal it when you can have it fair and square?" he asked teasingly.

You continued staring at his face, a look that was indescribable. "I like the sound of that," you smile - pressing a kiss to his jaw.

Ashara's lips pressed into a thin line. "What god has possessed you to bring a man inside of Starfall?" she scolded, leading you and Daemon towards a secluded part of the tourney. "He is my paramour." you announce, your grip remains firm on his hand.

"Your father will kill him." she says plainly. "- a Targaryen bastard, a scandal waiting to emerge." she scoffs.

Daemon's expression softens, quickly turning into amusement.

Do they all believe me to be a bastard? Apologies, I am legitimate, he thinks, but he decides to bite those words back, lest he be sent back to the Red Keep.

"I did not come here as my father's daughter. I came here under a disguise." you reminded, pulling the grey hood up until it was hiding your face. "You shouldn't have come here, anyways. You'll get me into trouble with mine own father." she glared at you.

"I'm sorry Ashara but we won't be bothering you. We merely want to join the tourney and win the dragon-egg." you say out loud, but she silences you with a finger to your lips.

"The prize remains a mystery to those in the audience. Only the competitors truly know. The Targaryens will be furious, we will be answered with fire and blood." Ashara reminds and you nod silently.

"- I'm sorry, I'll stay out of your way. I promise. Now, can you please lead us to the tents?" you ask and the other woman nods, pointing at the white tents in the far distance.

"Thank you," you smile politely - still holding his hand and dragging him to the direction of the other knights.

You paid a squire a decent amount of money to use their armor. Daemon was quick to wear it, but he still missed his sword. The Dark Sister, previously wielded by Queen Visenya. "I've never fought against this much Dornish men before." he breathes.

He had his experience fighting a few of them. They were good warriors, though not good enough to defeat him. "We fight like rattlesnakes, that's what my father always says." you say, placing the last piece of his armor on his body.

"You haven't been here for that long, huh?" you made another observation, and he nods. Though he still keeps his identity a secret.

"I grew up in Kingslanding. My mother died giving birth, and my father died of a burst belly." he chuckles - laughing his sorrows away.

"Prince Baelon is your father." you say with certainty, piecing the information together. "- he would've made a wonderful King." you add, basing off the stories that your father shared.

"I think it is your turn to speak about your past, gevives. And I've spent enough time around you to understand that you aren't lowborn." he urges while adjusting his straps.

"How did you come to that understanding?" you inquired, curious of his way of thinking.

His hands danced along your exposed arm.

"Your skin is smooth like silk." he says, like he was praying. His hands trailed upwards, until his fingers were on your chin. "- and you take good care of your beauty." he finishes - and he stops touching you.

"My father is a nobleman. I am his youngest child, the only daughter after six boys. Which means that I've been exposed to leeches using me ever since I was born. I ran away from them. I can't trust anyone, but I think I can trust you." you reveal pieces of your past to him, unwilling to give him the full information.

He was the first person that called you beautiful without knowledge of your vast fortune. And now he was here, promising to win a tourney just so you'd see a dragon-egg for the first time.

"Six brothers, like the princess of dorne." he teases.

"Mhm," you hummed - freezing.

"Ser, get ready." a squire peeks his head through the tent. Daemon stands up, and offers his hand for you take - helping you stand up.

"Thank you," you smile, regaining your composure.

"I promise to win, my lady." he places a kiss on the back of your hand.

Daemon won the tourney with ease, any knight that dared to fight against him didn't even last five minutes. All of his fights ended the same. He'd strike them down, the opponent would be on the ground and Daemon would only look to the next competitor.

You continued watching him.

Observing every little thing that he's doing. It was evident that there was a piece of the puzzle that you haven't solved yet. A knight as skilled as him should be renowned, and yet the only information you have on him - is that he is the bastard son of Prince Baelon.

He was an interesting mystery.

"The winner of our tourney, Ser..." Ashara rises, only beginning to realize that none of them knew the name of this skilled knight. Your best friend turns to look at you, but you answer with a shrug. It was a little game between you and Daemon - neither one knowing that the other one's real name is.

"Ser Daemon," he opened his mouth - meeting your gaze.

He added the last piece of the puzzle, and your face was struck with eureka. Prince Daemon Targaryen, you thought immediately. "Congratulations, Ser Daemon. Please claim your prize behind the tents." Ashara nodded.

"The audience was complaining, the tourney wasn't entertaining for them." you open the conversation, stepping foot inside of the tent. "I suppose it isn't entertaining when only one person wins." you smirk.

He holds the dragon-egg in his hands. "I promised that I'd win." he answers, patting the empty space beside him. "Here's your dragon-egg, my lady." he chuckles. You gladly sit beside him, laying your head on his shoulder and marveling at the beauty of the egg.

"You are Prince Daemon Targaryen." you announced, confirming your previous suspicions. "I am," he finds himself unable to lie.

"- I think it is only fair that I know your name too, my lady." he adds.

An amused smile paints your lips.

"I am Princess (Your Name) Martell. I can't believe that we meet under these circumstances." you laugh.

A prince and a princess meeting inside of a tavern instead of a castle. Even beginning to fall in love without the pressure of their respective kingdoms. It was something out of a fable.

Daemon reaches for your hand, placing it on top of the dragon-egg. "It is an honor to meet you, my princess." he acknowledges.

[whorekneecentral]

A Sandy Christmas

Sugar Daddy!Jenson Button x Fem!Reader

Warnings: the iconic sugar daddy JB, college aged reader (over 20), expensive vacations, gift giving is his love language, you're both soooo all up on each other, the use of daddy both in a sexual and non sexual context, thanking him in good way ;), oral (m!receiving), penetrative sex (p in v), hair pulling, some old man teasing at the end.

Word Count: 1,714

Author's Note: this is for my og jenson girlies that were here from the start, dedicated to the anon that sent in the first sd!jb ask cause you started all of this pookie!!

merry smutmas series

--

Jenson takes you on a dream vacation over the holidays but still makes sure you’ve got a gift to open come Christmas morning.

Exam season is killing you, mentally and physically.

Every bone in your body hurt from being hunched over at your desk for 18 hours a day and your brain felt like it was going to explode if you kept it up for much longer.

Jenson knew as much and he also knew your exam schedule; he couldn't bear to see his girl like that so he did the one thing he did best.

He whisked you away the moment your final exam was over. He knew it'd be a welcomed distraction given that you'd be returning home for the new years; your obnoxious sister was getting married to her high school sweetheart - you'd rather fall down the stairs than attend the wedding but Jenson promised to take you in to trade your car for a new one if you went.

To be fair, he did just get you the car 2 years ago but he figured he needed some sort of reward to get you to go. If he could join you at the wedding, he would but alas he can't.

Sunny Bora Bora was a welcomed distraction; the sunshine, the beaches, the endless cocktails and cock, were keeping you happy.

The first few days were you and Jenson rolling around in bed, lazing and eating whenever, barely getting dressed and spending sun up to sun down on the beach. You had everything you needed right there.

Despite it just being you and Jenson, he rented a whole villa. All the privacy in the world for you two; it was more so, so he could fuck you anywhere he liked but I digress.

Christmas morning and you're woken not by the sunshine but the feeling of Jenson's stubble on your neck.

"Merry Christmas, pretty girl."

You hum, a hand on his jaw. "Merry Christmas, Jense."

"C'mon, I have something to show you." He whispers in your ear, not giving you a moment to gather yourself. Instead he pulls you out of bed, his hand in yours as you sleepily follow him though the villa.

There's a massive Christmas tree by the windows, right in the middle but that was there when you arrived. What wasn't there before were all the gifts surrounding the tree.

"Jenson," you stop, looking at him. There's a grin on his face. "You didn't."

"I couldn't let Christmas pass without giving you a gift." He smiles, kissing your temple as he sits on the couch.

"We agreed that this trip was my Christmas gift."

"But the trip is for me too, so it can't count. Loophole baby," he raises his eyebrows, almost as high as his ego. You huff, "this is more than a gift, Jenson."

"You're a good girl, I'd buy you the world if I could." He tells you, smiling as you kiss him.

"I don't need the world, Jenson." You tell him, sitting in front of the tree. There are at least 20 bags and boxes neatly wrapped and set under the tree.

"I'd still buy it for you, princess." He smiles, taking a sip of his coffee as you unwrapped your gifts one by one; Gucci, Prada, Van Clef, Louis Vuitton - you name it, it was under the tree.

You had no idea how you'd get it all back home.

You thank him, doing a little try on haul as you unwrap the gifts. Jenson smiles, sitting comfortable as he watches you model your gifts for him.

"Happy?" He asks, patting his thigh. You sit yourself on his lap, an arm over his shoulder as you lean into him.

"Beyond happy," you whispered against his lips. "Thank you daddy."

"Anything for you, baby."

The two of you go about your day, you'll be leaving your little paradise tomorrow and returning to reality so you were trying to soak up the last of the sunshine. Lazing by the water, you watched as Jenson attempted to surf, gave up and decided on a swim instead, the man came back to kiss you, dripping the sea water all over you.

You push him away, giggling as he tries to grab at you. You rolled away, getting up and running from him; Jenson chased you down the beach right back to the villa.

Jenson planned dinner for the two of you, a little restaurant not too far from your villa. You wined and dined, chatting about his work and your plans not to strangle your sister with her veil. He assured you that you'd be fine and that as soon as the wedding was over, you could return home to him.

Upon returning, you decide to pack. This way you two could spend more time in bed in the morning rather than having to rush and pack then.

Jenson's back is to you as you bring in the last of your presents from the living room. He'd manage to fold what you had brought with you into the one suitcase opposed to the two it was in originally and had been trying to fix your gifts into the empty one.

He feels your arm wrap around his waist, fingers drumming against his midriff as you watch him put the boxes into the suitcase.

You're on your tiptoes, a kiss pressed to his jaw; Jenson thinks it's innocent enough and yet, he feels your lips drop lower. From his jaw to his neck and your fingers are pulling at his shirt collar, trying to expose more skin.

"Sweetheart," he whispers, swatting away your wandering hands. "We need to pack."

"Mhm hm," you turn him to face you, your hand on his jaw when you kiss him. Jenson leans on the edge of the bed, his arms wrapping around your waist, pulling you into him

He was easy like that, a kiss from you and he's like putty in your hands.

He watches as your fingers trail down the front of his shirt, sliding under the hem of it. Jenson takes that as his hint to take it off, tossing it on the floor somewhere. Your hand wanders further down, brushing over the cold metal of his belt. 

Jenson smiles, pecking your lips softly. "Let me thank you," you whispered against his lips. His brows furrow, "what for?"

"Everything," you tell him, sinking down onto your knees in front of him.

Jenson undoes his belt and the button, “open.” 

Without hesitation, your mouth opens and you’re looking up at him once again. He slaps your tongue with his cock softly, waiting for a reaction. The slight curve of your lips was enough for him to know it was okay. A hand tangled in your hair, pulling and pushing you, setting the pace. 

The stifled gag was enough for him to pull back, giving you a moment to catch your breath. 

His eyes fixed on you as your lips wrap around his cock, his chest dropping and raising with each breath.

He can’t help but notice the lipstick on the base of his cock, your head bobbing up and down. Jenson's hand pulls your hair away from your face, letting you set the pace.

His hand turns over and you feel his knuckles brush along your cheek. “Like being on your knees for me, hm? My good girl.” 

The praise hits you straight in the core, only making you go faster. Your cheeks hollow as you bob your head up and down. Jenson's hips buck, your nose brushing against him. 

His head falls back against the couch, breathing out a string of explicits as you hollow your cheeks. “C’mere.” He pulls you off him slowly, savouring the feeling of your tongue sliding up the underside of his cock.

You kiss him, the moan slipping from your lips as he manhandles you.

“Turn around,” he whispers against your lips, a hand on your hip as he turns you around to face the bed. 

Your arms are propped on the mattress, holding yourself up. He pushes your dress up, bunching over your hips. His hand slips between your thighs, fingers brushing over your panties and your head drops forward. 

Panties pushed to the side and Jenson reached forward, a hand tangled in your hair to pull you up, forcing you to look at the reflection in the window. His other hand holds your hip once he pushes into you. 

“See,” he mumbles to himself, glancing down between the two of you before his eyes meet yours in the reflection. “Look how pretty you are,” he whispers, kissing along the back of your shoulder as his hips dig into your ass. 

The knot in your stomach tightens when his hand on your hip slips down between your legs, reaching for your clit. He barely moves his fingers before your own hand reaches down to rest on his. The feeling of his fingers pulls your attention.

"Please daddy-" you're cut off by a moan and by Jenson pushing you down onto the bed.

You prop yourself up on your forearms once again, eyes fixed on anything but what he was doing. 

He could feel you clenching around him, pushing back into him for more.

“Shh, it’s okay baby, I know.” He tells you, thrusts getting sloppier by the second.

The two of you in sync, Jenson's chest pressed to your back as you came down from your orgasm. He peppered kisses all over your back, rubbing your side softly. He leans to press a kiss to your neck before pulling out slowly. 

You can feel Jenson wiping your thighs and between your legs, cleaning you up before fixing your dress. You're still facedown in the mattress, too fucked out to even think about moving at the moment. He senses as much, giving you a push by the ass and up onto the bed you went.

The clink of his belt comes from behind you, the man fixing his pants - you assumed he'd be joining you in bed but instead, you heard some sort of shuffling behind you.

Rolling you, you see that Jenson had resumed his packing from before.

"You know," you start, sitting up. "Most men your age are dead to the world after a fuck like that."

Jenson laughs, walking over to you. His hand cups your jaw, "I'm not like most guys my age."

--

taglist:  @nosugarallspice @evieepepi08 @mimithepooh @koufaxx @dannyramirezwife-simpaccount @topguncultleader @molliemoo3 @aisharmi @mamako23 @ac3may @lewislcver @miahgonzalez16 @books-and-netflix-pls @wibi96 @bwddermilch @pedrisgatorade @clarasenchant @sainzluvrr // @forza55 @norrisleclercf1 @allalngthewtchtower @therealcap @burningcupcakefire @stargirl36 @brettlorenzi3 @guiseppetsunoda @magnummagnussen @flippingmyshit @savrose129 @lovelytsunoda @irda12-blog @dhhdhsiavdhaj @slytheringirlthatkillpeople @f1lovers22 @toomuchdelusion @eviethetheatrefreak @faye2029 @lillians-world-is-f1 @chalando1604 @lenaxwbr @im-obsessed @potashiuhm @lcxlerc16 @enjoythebutterflies3 @lillyfootballsworld @micksmidnights @mashtonbunny @chrlsleclerc @logischeroktopus

[rafeyswrd]

HER ROYAL HIGHNESS | PROLOGUE

benedict bridgerton x princess reader — slight anthony x reader. slight colin x reader.

series summary. the princess is in desperate need to sponsor a successful season in order for freedom to come her way. and benedict bridgerton would do anything to please her highness.

WC. 500+ | warnings. none.

A/N. so sorry for being so late :( uni is so so hectic. i’ll update every friday from now on it’s only fair!! if you have any thoughts, etc, i’d love to know! i do have some requests i’m writing rn, but i love seeing them either way. enjoy!! and remember english is my second language, please be easy with the critique 😞😞.

“It is beyond unfair how stuck in life I am despite all I own, mama.” The princess whined, her hands fiddling with the ruffle that lay beneath her waist on her dress, jaw clenched in disdain.

Queen Charlotte’s eyes rolled, a sense of annoyance creeping into her. “You do not speak to me as such, I am your Queen.”

“You are also my mother!”

Silence traced through the walls of the dining hall; Lady Danbury’s awkward coughing did nothing to lessen the tension floating between the pair. Y/N’s hands were balled into fists, and the corset entwined into her dress was suffocating her beyond means.

“All I ask for is a chance to prove myself mama,” her voice was shaky, and she was unsure if the softening of her mother’s eyes were a part of her wild imagination. “I am not glass, and if you give me a sense of freedom, I will show you so!”

It was a momentary silence that had her heartbeat escalating, the gulp emitting her throat embarrassingly loud.

“Well.” Y/N’s eyes widened, her mother’s voice stern, yet a gentle trace followed through. “You may do as you please, your nagging does no good for your voice, it is also quite infuriating.”

“Well?”

“Well, if you insist, I suppose a deal could be made.”

Lady Danbury’s brows raised, and Y/N stood up from her chair, chest heaving from her previous rant. “Which is?”

Her mother leaned back, blinking once, twice, before speaking gradually. “Sponsor the upcoming season. I need a diamond as the people expect, and a successful one at that. I cannot be deemed faulty.”

The princess shook her head in disbelief, pushing her chair back and walking closer to where her mother smugly sat. “That is, it? After years of begging, that is all I am required to do?”

“Yes,” The queen swatted her hands in the air, to where her daughter stood, “Do not make me change my mind.”

Y/N smiled, a large gleaming smile. She clapped her hands enthusiastically, a soft, un lady-like giggle escaping her in a moment of excitement. “You underestimate me, mama. You shall have a happily wed diamond by the end of the season- if not before.”

The hurried noise of her steps gradually fainted as Y/N ran out, parts of her dress bunched up between her fists. Her smile was blinding, biting her bottom lip so hard she was sure it was bruising. She could not wait to tell her maid, Lydia, of it all, completely ignoring the warning signs blaring through her head on how her mother’s acceptance has come with incredible ease. Unlike before.

Lady Danbury’s face contorted to one of confusion, staring at the queen with a hesitant expression. “Not to question your decisions, your majesty, but I cannot help but wonder why you have come to agree this time, in comparison to the others?”

Queen Charlotte’s smirk was very faintly, yet visible enough to raise concern, “Do you think of me a fool, Lady Danbury? You are to be following her every move in hopes that it does not go the way she anticipates. Her coming of age does not take away her title as my youngest child, she is far too immature to be put out there in a serious manner.”

“If my goal is to ensure that her part of the deal fails, then it is what I will do, your majesty.”

Truly, It was beyond tragic how quickly news spread, and it was only a moment of running peace before Benedict Bridgeton has come to know of the princess’ role in the upcoming season. No longer was he a man whose eyes rolled at the thought of marriage. But a man who spent his days with an erratic heart, and fantasises of her royal highness plaguing his train thoughts.

TAGLIST. @easybrainrot34 @jkshxua @pinkpantheris

[kwanisms]

Otherworldly — l.minho

» stray kids masterlist «

➮ alien!Minho × f!Reader wc: 29.2k (I have absolutely no explanation lol) summary: While watching a meteor shower with her best friend, Y/N witnesses a UFO falling from the sky and crashing on her family's farm. The two rush to the wreckage site and find an alien spacecraft with a rather mysterious survivor. genres/themes/au: smut; supernatural and alien themes, s2l; non idol au, alien au warnings: adult dialogue, female reader, Minho is not from Earth so he doesn’t understand a lot of things, sexual content (18+ mdni), see smut warnings under the cut! special taglist: @yoonguurt , @anyamaris , @wooyoungqueen , @kpop-stories-21 , @xsweetelegantdiasterx , @kookthief , @stardragongalaxy , @millennial-fangirl , @blankdyean , @imwithurmother , @bangchans-angel , @oreoqueen , @yjeonginlvr , @zdgx1, @shuxsoo , @s00buwu , @queenmea604 Join the taglist! »» Closes 10/30 @ 23:00 CST! Strikethrough means I cannot tag you. MINORS WILL BE BLACKLISTED & BLOCKED. AGELESS BLOGS WILL NOT BE ADDED.

a/n: uh... yeah. I have no explanation or excuses to give you. I just couldn't stop writing. It happens lmao but I'm totally in love with this Minho. I want this Minho tbh. Thank you so much for reading and if you liked it please reblog or comment! I love reading your feedback! As always, this is a work of fiction and all characters are not reflective of their respective irl counterparts. for entertainment purposes only.

smut warnings: teratophilia (aka monsterfucking), unprotected sex (aliens have no concept of contraceptives but you should use protection), tentacles, alien genitalia, double penetration (f receiving), praise, anal (f receiving), Minho is more concerned at first about the anatomy but he goes pretty animalistic in the end. Let me know if I missed anything!

dialogue prompt: ❛ What? Does that feel good? ❜

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The worst thing about living in the middle of nowhere wasn’t the isolation. It was the lack of anything to do. You hated living on the outskirts of a small town in the middle of the country but it was all you knew. Growing up, your imagination took over, allowing you to play till your heart's content but as an adult, entertainment was much harder to come by.

You’d grown up on a farm, you’d lived that life and even though it was in your blood, in your roots, you still longed for more. For something bigger and brighter. You dreamed of life in a big city where you lived a busy work life and hung out with friends at clubs in high rise buildings.

Your life was a simple one but you longed for complexity.

The only thing you truly loved about living out here in the middle of nowhere was the endless view of the starry night sky. On a cloudless night, you could see thousands upon thousands of stars littering the endless black of night. It had been your favored view since you were small. Your mother had always shown an interest in the sky and she passed that love onto you, showing you endless books about space, the solar system, and the universe. Books that got more complex the older you got.

You learned everything from the most basics up to the complexity of supernovas and even black holes. Your mother taught you everything she knew, which was more than you could have ever hoped to learn on your own. Your mother had graduated top of her class from a prestigious university. She was from a small town and while back home, visiting family and attending a state fair, she’d met your father and it was love at first sight.

Not long after their wedding, you and your sister had been born. Your parents moved the family to your dad’s old family farm to take over when your grandfather had to be put in a nursing home until his ultimate passing. Your grandmother lived just a little longer but in the end, you knew she died of a broken heart, passing as peacefully as one could.

Your father had grown up on a farm as well and it was in his blood, too. He’d taken to teaching you and your sister everything he knew about farming and animal keeping. Though you didn’t have many animals. A few cows, a couple of pigs, and a handful of chickens. In addition to the farm animals, you had a couple farm dogs, an elderly one who spent most of his days lying on the porch and a younger one who was much too excited to jump into action at the slightest disturbance.

Your barn was also inhabited by a family of barn cats which kept the mice and rats at bay.

Sure, your life was simple and while you didn’t mind it, you still wanted more.

The only person who seemed to really get you was your best friend, Jake.

You met Jake when you were in kindergarten. He had stolen your crayons during coloring time and later at recess, you’d pushed him over on the blacktop earning a timeout but if felt good. From then on, he not only asked to borrow your crayons but he also became your best friend.

You did almost everything with Jake. And you’d gotten into a fair amount of trouble with him, too.

It’s not like he was a troublemaker but when the two of you were put together, you became a pair of troublemakers. Alone you were tame but together you were menaces.

The first time you’d gotten into trouble was when Jake distracted the teacher in biology, allowing you to let the pet frogs escape from their enclosure. Chaos ensued as the class erupted into screams as several students tried to chase the escapees down. Ultimately, it landed you and Jake in detention but you wouldn’t take a single thing back.

When Jake got his first car, he picked you up and the pair of you went on a wild ride which ended with you crashing into Farmer Dan’s field and mowing down a line of his corn. Your best friend took the heat, allowing you to escape and return home without any trouble.

He always had your back and you always had his.

“Did you hear the news?” you asked as you sat on the hood of his jeep, Jake leaning back against the metal with his hands behind his head as he enjoyed the mid autumn sunshine. Jake was always outside, especially in the summer as he worked and helped his dad’s construction business. He had a perpetual tan which he liked to show off with sleeveless tanks.

Now, however, autumn was in full swing and the weather was chillier. He wore a light sweatshirt with the local university’s logo on it. You were both enrolled and the first semester of your last year of college was underway. You had opted to study biology while Jake was going for civil engineering. He initially didn’t want to attend but his father insisted he get a proper education and live a better life.

Your family was supportive of your efforts but your father often mentioned how your degree would come in handy in the family business. You didn’t want that though. You wanted to pursue a degree in zoology after graduating.

You wanted more than a life on a farm.

“What news?” Jake asked, not opening his eyes as he basked, reminding you of the lizards you used to catch as a child. The ones that liked to lay on rocks in the sun and warm up. “The shower,” you replied, picking at the sleeve of your sweater, pulling off the little pilled up threads. Jake opened one eye, looking up with you. “What shower?” he asked, forcing a knowing smile from you.

Jake was about as country as they came. He loved everything about small town living and farm life. He liked to spend summers mudding with his buddies, swimming in the creek, and working hard. The two of you had grown into opposing forces but you always heard people around you saying “you know how opposites attract” and it couldn’t be more true for you and your best friend.

“The meteor shower,” you clarified, dropping your hands into your lap and looking down at him. He opened his eyes, giving you his full attention. “I think Julia said something about it,” he answered before giving you a knowing look. “You want to watch it, don’t you?” he asked.

You nodded excitedly, lips spreading into a smile. Jake sighed dramatically before propping himself up on his elbows. “Alright,” he said after a moment. “I’m in,” he nodded. “But,” he added, pointing at you with his index finger. “I’m bringing the beer.” You rolled your eyes. “Fine,” you answered.

“Tonight, then,” you started. “Come over after dinner,” you said as you slid off the hood of his car. “And we’ll go up to the hill.” You started towards the house as Jake sat up and gave you an exaggerated salute.

“Sir, yes sir!”

The rest of the day passed in a blur as you went about your chores, helping your mother with the laundry, making sure your sister did her homework, and helping cook dinner. Your dad had parked himself in front of the television at just about six, turning on the news and watching the broadcast.

You overheard the news anchors talk about the meteor shower and smiled as your dad called you into the room. “You know about this?” he asked, gesturing towards the tv. You nodded. “Yeah, Jake is coming over later and we’re gonna watch it,” you answered, noticing the way your dad seemed to light up at the mention of your best friend.

Your parents had only had you and your sister and while your dad loved you as much as any parent, you knew he would have loved to have a son. A mini version of him to play ball and rough house with. Instead, he got two girls who nearly beat him up every time he tried to wrestle. Two girls who kicked his ass at baseball and teamed together to take him down when playing football.

You knew your father had no regrets about having two girls and no son but he had that bond with your best friend. Just two guys who could sit around and watch the game even if they were rooting for separate teams. If your dad had his way, he’d jump at the chance to have you marry Jake.

You weren’t interested in him like that however. Jake was your best friend. He was like a brother to you. The thought of marrying him was foreign and you never once entertained the idea. Your parents certainly had, dropping subtle hints at you whenever the subject of marriage or the future came up.

“I like that Jake boy,” your dad said as he settled back into his seat.

“He’s not a boy anymore, dear,” your mother called from the kitchen as you moved back into the room to help her with dinner. “He’s a man now.”

Your dad hummed in agreement as he continued to watch the news, greeting your sister as she walked into the room. “Smells good, mom,” she said as she moved to lean against the kitchen island. You resumed cutting veggies for your mom as she manned the pan.

You lightly slapped your sister’s hand as she tried to grab a piece of one of the veggies you were cutting. “Knife!” you warned her as you resumed cutting. She pouted before you picked up a piece of carrot and held it up, ready to toss in her mouth. “Girls, don’t throw food!” your mother lightly chastised as you tossed the carrot into your sister’s mouth and she raised her arms.

“And it’s good!” she called as your dad changed the channel to the game.

Your mother rolled her eyes, still smiling as she continued to stir the contents of the pan. “Add those in here,” she instructed. You shot your sister a wink as you lifted the cutting board and carefully pushed the veggies into the pan where they started to sizzle and mix with the meat.

As your mother finished cooking, you and your sister set the table and called your dad in. He grumbled and turned off the television and joined you in the dining room as your mother carried the pot in. She set it on the table in the middle, warning your dad it was still hot.

You moved to grab the basket of rolls and butter keeper as your sister filled the glasses with water. Once everything was in the dining room and everyone had a glass of water, you joined your family, sitting across from your sister. Your dad briefly said grace before adding in a cheer for his favorite football team and you started to help serve dinner. As always, a home cooked meal was delicious, especially since it was your mother’s cooking. Everyone always said their mother was the best cook but you truly believed it. Your mother was arguably the best cook in the entire world.

Minho sighed, looking out the thick glass into the infinite nothingness. It had been about a month since he left home and only a day or so since his last space jump. Checking the mapping system, his latest jump put him somewhere in the Alpha Quadrant. Since then, he’s been flying through, passing by Sol X, IX, VIII, VII, VI and Sol V. These were planets he’d learned about as a child.

Seeing them in person was like something out of a dream. He’d seen most of them on a screen or in a hologram but seeing the planets up close was more than he could have ever hoped. He’d learned about the Great Milky Galaxy and all its solar systems and that one in particular, the Sol System, was home to intelligent life.

Never in his life had Minho ever expected to travel this far, especially alone. He stared in awe out the window as he flew through the seemingly nothingness. Except it wasn’t empty.

He’d made it past the plants and past the Sol Asteroid Belt and was closing in on Sol IV when his ship started sounding an alert. “WARNING, WARNING,” the female AI voice said. “ENTERING THE DETECTION SYSTEMS OF SOL III. APPROXIMATE TIME OF DETECTION 3 DECAMINUTES.” Minho groaned as he reached for the switch for the comms system. “Shut up, Stan!” he snapped before switching the communication system off and tried to focus on flying.

Stan was the name of the AI computer that was installed in most space flight craft like the one Minho was currently flying. It stood for Steolla Transmission and Navigation. Starships and fleet crafts had a different AI computer. 

The thing about AI systems is that no matter how many times you turn them off, they can just turn themselves back on. The screen flickered back to life, displaying a sad face. “Why are you so mad at me, Minho?” the voice asked. He sighed heavily and continued to fly, noticing that Sol IV was slowly coming into view.

“I’m just trying to focus on flying, Stan, so if you don’t mind. Please stop talking,” Minho said as he watched the rust red planet come into view. “Okay, Minho,” the computer said before falling silent. As he neared the red planet, Minho started to slow. “Actually, Stan, can you tell me more about Sol IV?”

The computer came to life, the screen displaying a smiley face. “Certainly, Minho! Sol IV, known to locals as Mars, is the fourth planet from Sol, the star at the center of the Sol System. Known for its rust red color, Sol IV is covered in soil rich in finely grained iron three oxide, also called ferric oxide, dust. This inorganic material is what gives Sol IV its red color. It is the second smallest planet in the Sol System and the farthest terrestrial planet from Sol. Sol IV has a thin atmosphere made primarily of carbon dioxide and has two irregularly shaped natural satellites: Phobos and Deimos.”

Minho looked down at the red planet. “Small?” he asked softly. “Indeed,” Stan said. “Mars is approximately one eighth the size of Ninsa,” Stan replied. Minho said nothing but started to accelerate, passing the red planet and heading towards Sol. Despite the fact that Sol IV was smaller than his home planet, from his position, it looked huge.

“Entering Sol III space,” Stan said as Minho neared a round dark rock. “This is Sol III?” he asked, sounding disappointed. Stan spoke up. “Oh, goodness no. This is Luna, also known as the Moon. It is the natural satellite of Sol III.” Minho slowed, turning and dipping the steering, maneuvering around the moon.

As he did so, his eyes widened, the bright blue and green of Sol III coming into view. His lips parted in a silent gasp. “Is… this Sol III?” he asked, his voice barely above a whisper as he stopped accelerating, slowing the ship and leaning forward, resting his arms on the top of his steering column.

“Correct,” answered Stan. “This is Sol III, also known as Earth, Terra, Tellum, and Gaia.” Minho let out a breath. “It’s pretty,” he noted. “Indeed. The blue you see is the ocean which covers seventy point eight percent of the surface of the planet. The remaining twenty-nine point two percent of Sol III’s surface is land, most of which is located in the form of continental landmasses. Most of the land is somewhat humid and covered by vegetation while large sheets of ice at the polar deserts retain more water than all of Sol III’s groundwater, lakes, rivers, atmospheric water combined.”

Minho listened intently as Stan went on, describing the planet in detail.

“Sol III’s land is part of the planet’s crust, consisting of several slowly moving tectonic plates, which interact to produce mountain ranges, volcanoes, and earthquakes, much like Ninsa. Sol III has a liquid outer core that generates a magnetosphere capable of deflecting most of the destructive solar winds produced by Sol and also protecting the inhabitants from cosmic radiation.”

“So it’s not much different than Ninsa,” Minho said, a smile forming. “Correct,” Stan replied. “Though Sol III is much smaller than Ninsa. It is twice the size of Sol IV.” Minho chuckled, looking down at the planet. “Tell me more,” he ordered.

“Certainly, Minho.”

Through the computer, Minho learned about the atmosphere of Sol III and how it sustains life, protects the planet from meteoroids and UV-light. “The composition is primarily nitrogen and oxygen,” Stan explained as Minho stared at the orb floating in vast nothingness.

“And what about the inhabitants?”

While you ate, your mother asked your father if he’d finished packing and he nodded silently. “Honey,” your mother said in a knowing tone. Your father smiled sheepishly before shrugging. “I’ll do it after dinner,” he replied. You took a sip of water and smirked at your little sister.

“How long will you be gone this time?” your sister asked. “A week,” your mother answered. “Just like last time?” you asked, looking up from your plate as your mother nodded, taking a bite of her food. She swallowed before replying. “Yes, so you’ll be on your own for a week.”

You looked from your mother to your father. “You mean we, right?” you asked, nodding towards your sister. Your mother shook her head. “Your sister is going on a camping trip with her friends,” she answered. You glanced at your sister who smiled back. ‘Camping trip my ass.’

“So don’t burn the house down,” your dad joked. You chuckled and shook your head. “I might not be inside much,” you reminded him. “School and all that,” you added. “Don’t you have a week off?” your sister asked curiously. You glared at her.

“Why do you have a week off?” your mother asked, turning to look at you. “Some kind of professor planning thing,” you answered, lifting your glass to your lips. “It’s not a big deal.” You took a couple gulps of water before speaking again. “I’ll probably spend a lot of time with Jake or something,” you added.

After dinner, your sister and you helped clean up, washing the dishes and setting them aside to dry. “Why did you have to rat me out like that?” you whispered as you worked side by side. Your sister shrugged. “I thought you told them.” Shaking your head you handed your sister a soapy plate.

“I don’t tell them everything, you know,” you said softly to which your sister scoffed. “I don’t!” you insisted. Your sister rolled her eyes. “You so tell them everything,” she replied as you pulled the plug and allowed the soapy dishwater to drain before starting to spray the sink down.

You glanced over your shoulder where your dad was watching the game and turned back to your sister.

“I never told them that I lost my virginity,” you whispered before leaning back as your sister looked up at you shocked. You smirked at her and turned to walk away, leaving her to finish her side of the sink. You walked down the hall to your parents’ bedroom where your mother was packing for their trip.

“Shouldn’t dad be doing that?” you asked, causing her to look up. She smiled at you as she continued to pack your father��s clothes away for him. “I love your father,” she started as she placed neatly folded shirts in the suitcase. “But he’s terrible at packing.”

You chuckled as you moved to the bed to help her. Your mother smiled up at you as you folded shirts and handed them to her to pack away. As you worked quietly, you couldn’t help but admire how much your parents loved one another. Not everyone was lucky enough to meet someone and marry them, let alone be with them for a long time.

Your thoughts were interrupted by a knocking at the door followed by your dad calling your name.

Your mother smiled and took the shirt in your hands. “Go,” she said gently. “Have fun.”

You shot her a grin before heading out of the room and down the hall to the foyer where your best friend was standing, talking to your dad. “You ready?” Jake asked, perking up when he saw you. You nodded. “Let me just grab a hoodie from my room.”

You climbed the stairs quickly, darting into your room and grabbing your university hoodie. As you passed your sister’s room, you leaned into the door frame. She was lying on her bed on her stomach, playing with her phone as you watched her. “Have a good time,” you said, causing her to look up suddenly. “Be safe,” you added. “And don't do anything dumb.”

Your sister rolled her eyes but smiled at you. “You too,” she said. “Don’t do anything dumb with your boyfriend,” she said mockingly. You picked up a pillow from the chair by the door and threw it at her. “He’s not my boyfriend,” you retorted. “He’s my best friend.”

You called a final goodbye to your sister before dashing down the stairs where Jake was waiting. You called a goodbye to your dad who got up and walked over, pulling you into a hug. “Have fun, be safe,” he said before letting you go.

Outside, the sun had almost fully set. You climbed into the jeep as Jake got in and started the engine. The drive to the hill didn’t take long and soon, Jake was pulling to a stop and parking the vehicle. You quickly got out, pulling on your hoodie and climbing onto the hood of his jeep as he came around the drivers side with a cooler which he set on the ground.

“You want one?” he asked as he opened the cooler and grabbed a can. You shook your head and he shrugged as he climbed up. “Suit yourself,” he said softly as he opened the can and took a sip. He leaned back against the windshield and looked up at the sky.

“When’s it supposed to start?” he asked. You grabbed his wrist and looked at his watch. “Fifteen minutes,” you answered, turning your attention back towards the sky. The two of you fell into a comfortable silence, staring at the starry sky as the lights twinkled down at you from millions of miles away. Your thoughts were swirling in your head.

You were turning the words over in your mouth until you finally spoke.

“I’m leaving Derrey.” Your voice was so soft you weren’t sure Jake had heard you but when he sat up quickly, you knew he had indeed heard you.

“You’re leaving?” he asked softly. You nodded, turning your head to meet his gaze. Even in the low light of the setting sun, you could see the shock, confusion, and hurt cross his face. “Why?” he asked softly. “I’ve gotten early acceptance at the university in the city,” you answered, glancing down at his knee sticking out of a tear in his jeans.

“That’s… amazing,” he said, sounding suddenly excited. You looked back up. The negative emotions on his face were replaced with a smile. “What are you going to be studying?” Relief flooded your senses. You’d expected him to be upset with you for leaving him behind. You’d expected him to be mad.

“Zoology,” you finally answered. “I want to help animals,” you added. Jake smiled at you, one of his hands moved to cup your cheek. “You’re going to do big things, Y/N,” he said softly. “You’re going to be amazing.” You smiled, your cheeks growing warm.

In the corner of your vision, you saw something streak across the sky and turned quickly to see a meteor burn out. “It’s starting!” you said excitedly, sitting up straight and watching the sky, not noticing the way Jake’s smile fell before he also looked up at the sky.

“So Terrans have existed for approximately six million years?” Minho asked, looking from the planet to the computer. “Correct,” Stan answered. “And how long have Ninsans existed?” Minho asked as he started to slowly take the ship out of its suspended state.

“The first Ninsans appeared approximately 5 million years ago. They are directly descended from ancient humans, cross bred with Gorians to produce a genetically modified species and then selectively bred to create a pure strain,” Minho reached for the comms switch, flipping it so it cut off Stan mid speech.

“Save me the history lesson, Stan,” he said as he took hold of the controls, scoffing as the AI switched back on. “Sorry, Minho. It’s in my programming.” Minho shook his head as he started to fly around the moon, keeping Sol III in his line of sight. “We should not get closer,” Stan warned as Minho flew in.

“Shut up, Stan,” Minho argued. “Sol III has planetary defense systems in place. If we are detected, they could fire on us,” Stan continued. Minho rolled his eyes. “We’ll be out of here before they can detect us,” he said softly. “We will be spotted by the International Space Station.”

Minho slowed the craft. “The what?” he asked, looking at the computer screen as a rendering of some sort of spacecraft appeared. “The International Space Station is the largest modular space station in low Sol III orbit. The ongoing project involves five space agencies: the United States’ NASA, Russia’s Roscosmos, Japan’s JAXA, Europe’s ESA, and Canada’s CSA,” Stan explained.

“The ownership and use of the space station is established by intergovernmental treaties and agreements. The station serves as a microgravity and space environment research laboratory in which scientific research is conducted in astrobiology, astronomy, meteorology, physics, and other fields. The ISS is suited for testing the spacecraft systems and equipment required for possible future long-duration missions to the moon and Sol IV.”

Minho glanced at the blue planet and back at the screen. “You’re telling me, the inhabitants of Sol III haven’t been to Sol IV?” he asked incredulously. “Affirmative,” Stan answered. “Humanity has not yet developed the necessary technology for interplanetary travel. Humans have only visited their only satellite. They have had successful fly by missions past the other planets in their system and have sent multiple rover expeditions to Sol IV. The first manned mission to Sol IV is projected to happen within the next decade.”

Minho shook his head, a smug smile appearing on his face. “How is it, Ninsans have been around for less time but are more advanced?” he asked softly, not really expecting an answer. Stan, of course, had an answer for everything.

“Ninsans have been aided in their technology by Gorians. Humans have developed their technology on their own,” the computer replied. “You have been fortunate enough to be born in a world where deep space exploration is possible. Humanity did not have that help.”

The smirk on Minho’s face dropped slowly. He sat back in his seat, pursing his lips. “Fine,” he said flatly before reaching for the controls. Just as the tips of his fingers touched the wheel, the lights in the cabin went red, a warning sound emitting from the speakers.

“WARNING!” Stan’s voice said suddenly. “You are entering a field of meteors.” Minho grabbed the steering wheel and looked out the starboard side window. “What?” he hissed, seeing a cluster of comets hurtling towards the planet. “We haven’t even moved!” he exclaimed.

“Turn around and go around the planet to avoid collision and detection.”

“Shut up, Stan!” Minho said, flipping the comms switch. “I’m not going back. That’ll take longer. I’ll just go through,” he added as he adjusted his straps. The computer flickered back on. “The odds of surviving a run through a meteoroid field are—” Minho flipped the switch and sighed. “Don’t tell me the odds,” he grumbled as the computer switched back on.

“Minho, you must turn back now. This is the largest meteor storm in Sol III’s history. If you fly into it, you will get hit!”

Minho cursed, hand moving to fiddle with the controls. “I thought I told you to shut up, Stan,” he snapped as he tried to turn off the AI again. At the same moment, he took his hand off the control, a meteor whizzed past his shield and he cursed, moving his hand back on the control and continued to fly.

“Oh for fuck’s sake!” he yelled as he started to navigate the field, avoiding the meteors plummeting to the planet below. Another meteor zoomed by, disturbing his flight pattern and causing the ship to shake violently. “Shit!” he cursed again, diving below to try and avoid another meteor.

“WARNING. WARNING. COLLISION IMMINENT. TAKE DEFENSIVE MANEUVER TO AVOID COLLISION!” 

Minho swore. “SHUT UP, YOU STUPID COMPUTER!” he yelled, trying to dodge the space rock. He managed to fly around it but suddenly the entire ship rocked as no doubt another meteor hit on the right side of the ship. Electricity crackled, the screens distorting for a moment from a small surge in power.

“WARNING. WARNING. FLIGHT PATH COMPROMISED. LOSING ALTITUDE.”

Minho grabbed the controls again and flicked a couple switches, trying to adjust his orientation. One of the screens flickered red with words that made his stomach sink. “THRUSTERS FAILED TO ENGAGE.”

Alarms started blaring as another screen went red. “MULTIPLE SYSTEMS FAILURE,” Stan read aloud. “Shit,” Minho hissed. “Shit, shit, shit!”

He quickly started to fiddle with the controls, hoping if he redirected power, he might fly out of this mess.

“WARNING. ORBIT TOO STRONG. UNABLE TO PULL AWAY FROM SOL III. ABANDON SHIP. ABANDON SHIP!” Minho growled, hitting the top of the console. “Shut UP, Stan!!”

He pulled back on the wheel, hoping to point the nose of the craft up and while he was able to, the ship was now careening out of control, plummeting towards the blue planet. “Stan!” Minho called, looking at the computer screen that flashed red and a sad face appeared. “Yes, Minho?” Stan said, voice breaking as the ship started to enter the atmosphere.

“What do I do, Stan?”

The computer was silent for a moment before answering. “Raise the sun shade,” the computer finally answered. Minho flipped the switch, watching as the metallic screen raised, covering his view. “Okay,” Minho said.  “Now what?” Stan was silent for a moment.

“Take hold of the steering apparatus,” the AI instructed. Minho did so, grabbing it firmly. “Okay! Now what?” he asked. Stan was silent for a beat longer than last time. “Scream and hold on, Minho,” it finally replied.

“There’s nothing else you can do.”

“Which one is that one again?” Jake asked, pointing towards a star. You turned your gaze to see which one he was pointing at. “The bright orange one?” you asked. He nodded. “Yeah, that one,” he confirmed. “Uhhh, that looks like… Betelgeuse,” you replied.

Jake looked from the sky to you. “Beetlejuice? Like the movie?” You laughed, shaking your head.

“No,” you answered. “Betelgeuse. B-E-T-E-L-G-E-U-S-E,” you spelled it out for him. “It’s a mispronunciation of the original Arabic name. There was an error in a 13th-century reading of the Arabic initial ya as ba. So as a result, the European name is Betelgeuse,” you explained. “It’s part of the Orion constellation.” Jake turned his attention back on the star. 

“And what about that one?” he asked, pointing at another bright star. You squinted, looking at the star in question. “Oh, that’s Aldebaran!” you said excitedly. “Oldie what?” Jake asked. You rolled your eyes, laughing at him. “Aldebaran,” you repeated. “It’s also derived from Arabic,” you explained.

“It’s a red giant, so it’s a lot cooler than our star but it’s forty-four times larger than the Sun.”

Jake’s eyes widened comically. “Wow, that’s big,” he said, nodding. “What’s the name again?”

“Aldebaran. In Arabic, it’s al Dabaran. It means ‘the follower’ because it seems to follow Pleiades,” you explained, pointing to a cluster of lights near Aldebaran. “And what constellation is it part of?” Jake asked. “Taurus,” you replied quickly. You’d been waiting for him to ask that.

Jake smiled, turning his head to look at you. “Which constellation is your favorite?” You thought for a moment. What was your favorite constellation? There was always draco, a favorite of your mother’s. But then there was Ursa Major. Scorpius was another really neat one.

As you thought of your choices, one stood out to you. You turned to look at your best friend.

“Vulpecula,” you answered. His brow furrowed as a look of confusion washed over his face.

“What?” he asked, making you laugh out loud again. “Vulpecula,” you repeated. “It’s a fox.”

Jake sat up straighter, looking up at the sky. “Where is it?” he asked. You shook your head. “It’s not visible from here this time of the year,” you explained. “Oh,” Jake responded, slumping down. “The meteors are picking back up!” you exclaimed excitedly, pointing up at the sky.

Sure enough, more fiery streaks were darting across the sky, some of them lasting longer than the others. “Uh,” Jake said suddenly, looking around. “Are we safe here?” he asked, looking at you. “Of course,” you answered with a nod. “Most meteors will burn up in the atmosphere. Very few ever get past the mesosphere,” you added, giving him a reassuring smile.

You watched as more flashes streaked across the sky. As you were watching, you noticed something… different. It was like two meteors had collided. “Whoa, did you see that?” Jake asked, sitting up quickly. You looked over at him before back at the sky. You had seen it. You just weren’t sure what you had seen.

“What was that? Did two meteors hit each other?”

You shook your head slowly, watching the sky for any other sign. “I-I don’t know,” you stammered.

To your surprise, there was another flash in the sky. Like another collision. ‘What is that?’

Before you could voice your thoughts, you watched in a mixture of shock and disbelief as something fell from the sky, heading in the direction of your farm. “Y/N,” Jake said, his voice unsteady as he slowly scooted towards the edge of the hood of the jeep.

“What is that?”

You watched as the object flew in an unsteady and jerky pattern as it descended, a trail of fire behind it as it entered the stratosphere. “Y/N,” Jake said, a little louder. “What is that?!”

You couldn’t find your voice as the object continued to fall from the sky, sailing over the hill where you sat and headed for the woods. It was large, dark, and rounded. Not unlike a meteor but it looked almost… smooth.

You and Jake watched as it crashed into the trees, breaking a path into the woods where it eventually hit the ground with a resounding boom and the ground shook slightly. You turned to look at Jake who turned to look at you.

“What the f—”

You cut your best friend off by jumping off the jeep. “DID YOU SEE THAT?” you exclaimed, pointing in the direction of the woods. “Y/N,” Jake said as you ran to the end of the hill where it started to slope down. “Y/N, where are you going?”

You turned back to see Jake still seated on the hood of his jeep. “Are you coming or not?” you called. Jake shook his head, sighing as he slipped off the hood and moved around to the driver’s side, picking up his cooler and placing it back in the backseat.

“Come on,” he called back, opening his door and climbing in.

You scrambled up the hill to his jeep, yanking open the door and climbing in as he started the car and turned the headlights on. “Why couldn’t we just have a nice quiet night?” Jake whispered as he put the car in gear and started to drive down the hill and back towards the dirt road that led to your property.

The ride back took no time and as soon as Jake pulled onto your drive, you directed him to the edge of the woods, undoing your seatbelt as he put the jeep in park and cut the engine. “Y/N, wait for me!” he called as you jumped out of the vehicle, shutting the door and hurrying for the edge of the woods, Jake following reluctantly behind you.

Navigating the woods proved to be harder than you expected even with your phone’s flashlight. Jake had thankfully grabbed the flashlight from his glovebox and was leading the way in, helping you traverse over fallen logs and ditches. You passed a small portion of the creek and hurried up the embankment until you stood at the top, holding a tree for support. In the distance you could see sparks of electricity and broken branches. “It’s here!” you called as Jake started to climb up the embankment and join you.

He shined the light in the direction of the craft and whined as you started down the hill, using the thin trees to break any falls until you were on even ground and closer than ever to the object you’d both witnessed fall out of the sky.

“Y/N! Wait!” Jake called as he hurried down the hill after you.

You didn’t listen, instead pushing on, scrambling over a fallen log until you were within spitting distance of the strange craft. “Holy shit,” you heard your best friend gasp as he reached level ground and shined his light on the craft. You turned to look at him, a wide smile on your face.

“Can you imagine if we discovered the first known aliens to visit earth?” you asked, sounding much too excited for your best friend’s liking. “Stop,” he said sternly. “It’s probably some military craft. Don’t touch it!” he yelled, waving the flashlight in your direction.

You ignored him as the beam danced around, reaching up a hand and hovering it over the wall of the craft. Deciding to take the plunge you pressed your palm against it and… nothing.

You expected it to be hot but it was cool to the touch. And the material was smooth, metallic but still somehow soft. Not malleable like clay but still soft like silk almost. You kept your hand on the craft as you walked around to the front or what you assumed to be the front. There was no break, no windows, and no door. Whatever this was, there was no way into it that you could see.

“Y/N please come back,” Jake called from the opposite side of the ship.

You started to walk back around, catching sight of him in the low red light emitting from what you determined to be the rockets of the ship. He seemingly looked relieved upon seeing you. “You’re going to give me a heart attack,” he called, dropping from his perch on a log.

“Come on,” Jake added. “The cops and military are probably about to be all over this place in a matter of hours. Let’s get out of here.”

You glanced at him as he neared your spot. “Since when have you been scared of cops?” you asked challengingly. Jake scoffed as he stopped, leaning against the side of the ship. “Never said I was scared,” he said. “I just don’t want to get involved with the military.”

You rolled your eyes but before you could answer, a loud hissing interrupted you followed by a loud mechanical whirring and to Jake’s horror and your delight, a door started to open, materializing in the smooth surface of the ship’s exterior wall.

“Y/N!” Jake hissed as you leaned down, waving your hand to try and clear the smoke that billowed from the open orifice. “Don’t get too close!” Jake added, taking a couple steps as you tried to peer into the open door. You glanced back at Jake who looked back at you, shrugging. “Maybe it’s a drone?”

You rolled your eyes and turned back to the door only to fall back, a scream emitting from you as a dark figure stumbled from the doorway. Jake fell back, tripping over a log as he tried to scramble away from the mysterious figure.

You watched in shock as the figure stood up and started to walk away from the craft, heading towards the back and looking around. You watched as the figure looked up at the sky and balled up its fists before letting out a slew of colorful curses in English.

You turned your head to look at Jake who looked to meet your gaze. The look of shock on his face must have matched the one on yours. Your eyes went back to the figure as he turned back to the craft and started to inspect the damage, muttering to itself. As it stepped closer, you noticed in the dim light emitting from inside the ship that the figure, or should you say he, looked somewhat human.

You heard the snapping of twigs as Jake got up and hurried over to your side. “Come on,” he whispered, gently grabbing your arm. You watched as the pilot of the ship raised his arm and started tapping on something at his wrist. When it didn’t respond, he let out another growl of frustration and kicked the wall of his ship.

It was at this moment, he seemed to notice the two of you.

He stumbled forward and Jake tried to pull you back but couldn’t and fell behind you. “Where am I?”

You stared up at the man, eyes wide. ‘Did he just… ask me a question?’

When you didn’t answer, he turned his attention to Jake. “Where am I?” he asked louder and more demandingly. “I-Iowa,” Jake stammered. The man took a deep breath and let it out. “What’s Iowa?” he asked. You glanced over your shoulder, meeting Jake’s gaze. He looked just as confused and scared as you felt. “What is Iowa?” the man asked again, albeit a lot louder.

You turned back to look up at the man towering over you.

Before you could answer, you noticed his body seize up and he started convulsing before dropping to his knees and falling to his side where he lay motionless. You froze, staring in shock at the body. You peered back at Jake before pushing yourself up onto your feet, squatting as you moved forward. “Stop!” Jake hissed but you ignored him.

You stopped just short of the man and hesitantly pushed his boot. His foot as well as his leg jostled but he didn’t move. You tried again but it yielded the same result.

“Is he dead?” Jake’s voice asked from behind you. You crawled closer, hovering over the man. You moved slowly, bringing a hand to his neck and pressing two fingers against his neck just under his jaw. It was faint but you could feel a pulse. You moved the same hand towards his face, holding your finger under his nose where you could feel a steady breath.

You sat back and sighed. “He’s alive,” you answered. “Just unconscious.”

“What do we do?” you asked, turning to look at your best friend as he walked over. “What do you mean? Just leave him here. I told you, the cops and military will be here soon. Let’s just go, Y/N, please.”

You turned your head back to look at the man. Pulling your bottom lip between your teeth, an idea popped into your head. “Let’s take him with us.”

Jake stared at you like you’d lost your mind. “Take him with us? Are you nuts?!”

You looked up at him. “We can’t just leave him here!” Jake nodded his head before reaching down to grab you by the wrist and pull you up. “Yes,” he said, starting to drag you away. “We can!”

You pulled free from his grip. “I’m not leaving him,” you retorted, standing your ground.

Jake scoffed incredulously. “Where are you going to put him?” he asked.

“My parents and sister are leaving in the morning,” you replied. “They’ll be gone for a week.”

Jake shook his head, looking around the area. “I can not believe I’m hearing this,” he said, laughing nervously. “I can’t believe this.”

You sighed, crossing your arms over your chest. “Please, Jake,” you asked, forcing him to stop and look up at you. “For me, please?”

Jake sighed into a groan before throwing his hands up. “Fine,” he said. “But this is your mess. If the military comes bursting into your house, I’m not involved.”

You jumped up and down excitedly, throwing your arms around his neck and hugging him tightly.

“Thank you, thank you, thank you!” you said excitedly. Jake tried to keep a smile from forming. “Don’t thank me just yet,” he said as you both moved to the man.

Moving an unconscious body proved to be much more difficult than you thought and you were sure it had taken you and Jake hours to just get the body of the man out of the woods. In reality it had taken about thirty minutes. Once you’d put him in the back with the cooler, Jake drove around the house to the front door, parking as close to the porch as possible.

He got out and walked to the back as you ran up the steps and unlocked the door, opening and peering inside. The television was still on but your dad was passed out in his recliner. You pocketed your key and made your way back down the stairs to meet Jake.

“Dad’s in his recliner but he’s passed out,” Jake stared at you as you started to try and pull the man out by his boots. “I’m not sure this is a good idea,” he said softly. Maybe we should put him in the barn?”

You looked up at Jake and shook your head. “No,” you protested. “What if he wakes up and is scared and confused?” Jake stared at you incredulously. “This is an alien we’re talking about, Y/N.”

You shrugged. “So?” you asked. “He speaks English and displays intelligent behavior,” you replied. Jake gave you a deadpan stare. “Kicking his ship when his fitbit doesn’t work strikes you as intelligent behavior?” You rolled your eyes. “Whatever,” you retorted. “Just help me!”

Jake shut up and helped you pull the man out of the back of his jeep, taking his arms and head as you took his feet and started up the steps, trying to take it one step at a time while also trying to keep a firm grip on the man’s feet.

You managed to pull open the screen door but carrying the man over the threshold proved to be a chore. The screen door swung shut, slamming in its frame and causing both you and Jake to freeze and turn your heads to look into the living room.

Your father shifted in his recliner but continued to snore softly and you could have sighed a breath of relief only you couldn’t breathe properly. Carrying the man up the staircase was worse than carrying him out of the woods and by the time you reached your bedroom and deposited him on the bed, you were convinced you’d never have to hit the gym ever again.

“You’ve really lost it, you know?” Jake asked as he shut your bedroom door.

You waved him off, falling back onto your bed. “Just think of it,” you panted. “As a week’s worth of workouts,” you continued. “You’ll thank me later.” Jake rolled his eyes as you sat up. “You need anything else from me, you weirdo?” he asked. You shook your head. “No,” you replied.

Jake nodded. “Good. I’m out of here,” he said, turning and heading for the door.

You stopped him. “Can you bring me some of your brother’s clothes tomorrow morning?” you asked, holding your hands together. “Please? I don’t have anything that would fit him properly,” you added. Jake sighed dramatically. “Fine,” he answered. “I’ll bring something. Text me when your family leaves.”

You thanked him, pulling him into another hug and following him down the stairs to see him out.

“I’m serious though,” he added as he crossed the threshold.

“If the military comes looking for him or that craft,” he started. “I’m not involved. Make sure he’s okay and then send him on his way. You don’t want to get mixed up in this and I don’t want to see you get in trouble.” You smiled as he took your hand gently in his.

“I’ll be okay,” you replied. “Text me when you get home.”

Jake nodded, dropping your hand and heading down the steps to close the back of the jeep.

“I will! Try and get some sleep.”

You waved as he got into his car and started it, back up and waving at you once more before he pulled away.

You shut both doors, locking them and heading back upstairs, entering your room and locking it.

The man took up your whole bed so you’d have to sleep on the floor for the night. You pulled off your boots and grabbed a blanket and one of your pillows, throwing them both down before lying down and covering up with your blanket.

Sleep must have taken you quickly because you woke with a start, a dull light starting to filter into your room. You sat up quickly and saw the man was still passed out on your bed. You got up and rushed to your closet, pulling off your hoodie and changing quickly.

You could hear your sister in her room moving about. You didn’t mean to sleep this long but there was no going back. You pulled on a clean pair of sweats, pulling your shirt off and tossing it into the hamper before grabbing a clean shirt and pulling it on.

You moved into your bathroom, standing by the sink and turned on the faucet, splashing some cool water on your face before drying it and turning the water off.

Back in your room, you pushed your mud covered boots further into your closet and unlocked the door before opening it carefully and peeking out. You stepped out, shutting your door behind you and walked down the hall. At the top of the stairs you saw your parents luggage as well as your sister’s camping gear sitting by the door. You hurried down the steps and into the kitchen where your mother was preparing two travel mugs of coffee. Your sister was sitting at the kitchen island, checking her phone as she waited for her friends to come pick her up.

“Didn’t hear you come in last night,” your dad said from the dining table, reading something on his phone. “Got in kind of late,” you answered. “How was the shower?” your mother asked, looking up at you.

You turned your head towards her before remembering to speak.

“Oh! It was really cool. Apparently it was the largest in recorded history,” you said as you moved to stand beside your sister. “Really?” your mother asked as she screwed lids on the mugs. “I’m sorry I missed it,” she said softly. You forced a smile as she set the cups on the counter.

A sudden horn outside announced the arrival of your sister’s friends. “That’s Clara,” she said, getting up from her seat and slipping her phone in her vest pocket. Your mother moved around the counter to hug her. “Have a good time,” she said before letting go and it was your father’s turn to hug her.

“Behave yourself,” he said, giving her a smile. Your sister turned to you and held up her fist for you to bump. “See you later, Star Nerd,” she said with a smile. “Later sea squirt,” you replied as she moved to the door and opened it. Her friend, Clara, had sent her brother Luke to help your sister with her bags and gear. She gave one final wave before heading out the door.

“And then there were three,” your father said.

Your mother handed him one of the mugs. “We better get going too,” she announced. You tucked your hands in your pockets and watched as they headed for the door, following behind. Your father grabbed the bags and took them out to the car as you followed your mother out onto the porch.

It was a typical crisp fall morning, a thin layer of frost on the grass and breath hanging in the air.

“There’s some food in the fridge,” your mom said as your dad loaded the car. “But I’ve also left some money for delivery. Don’t throw any college parties,” she pleaded. You smiled as you pulled her into a hug. “Don’t worry mom. We don’t have a pool. No one is coming here for parties,” you joked.

“Come on, hon!” your father called. “We gotta go!”

Your mom gave you one final hug before hurrying down the steps and to the car. Your father waved to you as he opened the driver’s door and you waved back, watching as they got in and settled. The car backed up and you watched as they drove off and down the drive before turning onto the main road and disappearing from view.

“And then there were two,” you whispered to yourself as soon as the tail lights disappeared from view.

Once they were gone, you darted back inside, locking the doors and moving to unlock the back door before rushing upstairs to your room and opening the door. The man was still unconscious and you entered the room, closing the door behind you and moving to sit at your desk, turning the chair so you could keep an eye on the man.

You grabbed your phone from your desk where you left it and started typing a message to your best friend, hoping he was awake. He answered rather quickly, letting you know he was on his way.

You crossed your arms over your chest, trying to ignore the chill in the room. You decided to play on your phone, glancing up occasionally at the man sleeping in your bed. 

You kept calling him the man but you knew that wasn't entirely true. 

He was an alien. 

You weren't sure how much time had passed as you solved what felt like the hundredth sudoku puzzle when you heard the back door open and close. You stopped, listening as footsteps came up the steps, drawing closer and closer until there was a soft knock at your door. 

You watched as it slowly opened and the face of your best friend appeared. “Is he awake?” he asked softly. You shook your head,  turning your attention briefly to the alien before looking back at Jake. He opened the door fully, stepping in and handing you a cloth tote. Inside were some of his older brother's clothes. 

Sighing, you looked up and thanked him. He nodded, not taking his eyes off the alien.

“Now that I see him in the light,” he started. “He just looks like just some guy,” he continued. “Almost like he could go to our university.” You nodded wordlessly, looking at the alien.

“Yeah,” you said softly. “He definitely doesn’t look like an alien.”

You felt Jake tap your shoulder, making you glance up at him. “What?” you asked when you saw his expression. “Don’t,” Jake said in a low tone. You shrugged your shoulders as if to ask him ‘what’ but he went on. “Don’t pretend like he isn’t from here. He came out of a spaceship that looks way beyond our technologies,” he started to explain.

“He didn’t even know what Iowa was!”

You gave your best friend a skeptical expression. “Hardly anyone knows what Iowa is.”

Jake narrowed his eyes. “And besides, I thought you said it was military,” you added.

Jake shook his head. “Military would know Iowa,” he answered, only for you to shake your head this time. “What if he's from another country’s military?” Jake scoffed at this. “No other country has the advanced technology we have,” Jake retorted. This time you squinted at him.

“Then why does all our technology come from Asia?” you asked, raising a brow at him. You turned back to look at the man briefly and then back at Jake. “He looks pretty Asian to me.”

Jake opened his mouth to retort but only gasped, nudging you quickly as he stared at your bed.

You turned just in time to see the man’s eyes snap open and he sat up quickly. He caught sight of you and Jake and screamed. You fell off your chair, Jake falling into the closed door, caught off guard by the sudden noise. “What the fuck!” Jake cursed.

“Where the hell am I?” the man yelled, trying to scramble away, only to fall onto the other side of bed. Jake grabbed your hand and pulled you to your feet. The man’s head appeared at the foot of your bed, peeking over the top of the mattress.

“You’re in my room,” you replied softly, taking a tentative step forward, shaking off Jake as he tried to grab your arm. “Why?” the man asked, watching as you approached slowly, only the bed separating you. You glanced back at Jake who shook his head quickly. “Leave me out of this.”

You sighed and rolled your eyes before turning back to the man who turned his attention from your best friend to you, giving you a wary look as you reached the bed and sat down slowly, keeping your eyes on him. “Well,” you started, not sure how to explain it.

Deciding the easiest way was the truth, you went for it. “You kind of passed out.”

The man stared at you, his eyes briefly flickering over to Jake who nodded, arms crossed over his chest. “Yeah, it was weird,” Jake answered. “You got real still and then fell down.”

The man looked back at you, watching as you nodded. “Yeah, you seized up, your eyes rolled back, and then you fell to your knees and then onto your side.”

The man lowered his gaze to your floral sheets before looking back up to meet your gaze. In the daylight, you could see just how different his eyes were than yours. A range of hues, almost like a rainbow but they were milky, almost as if he might be partially blind.

If that was the case, there’s no way he would have been driving— flying that spacecraft… right?

“How did I get here?” he asked, seemingly accepting your answer.

“We brought you here,” you answered, gesturing to yourself and then to Jake.

“Yeah,” Jake added. “Carried you out of the woods and put you in the back of my Jeep.”

The man sat up a little straighter, tilting his head slightly.

“What’s a Jeep?”

You fought the urge to snicker but held it back. “It’s a car,” you explained. The man turned his gaze upon you this time. “A car?” he asked, seemingly confused. You nodded. “It’s like a land vehicle? It has wheels and you drive it with a steering wheel,” you said, doing the motions of holding and turning a steering wheel. The man watched in fascination before speaking again.

“Show me.”

You picked up your phone and the man sunk down until only his eyes were visible as you googled a picture of a Jeep Wrangler. You turned the device around and showed him. The man sat back up and leaned in to look at the image.

“Jeep,” he said again. You nodded with a smile. “That’s right,” you said. “Jeep.”

“Jeeeeeeeep,” he said, elongating the double E sound, making you giggle.

“And what’s this?” he asked, pointing at your phone. “Oh, it’s just a cell phone,” you answered. “It’s like a communication device.” The man lifted his hand and pulled back his sleeve, showing you the watch around his wrist. “Is that your communication device?” you asked.

He held his arm out towards you. You hesitantly took his hand in yours and inspected the device.

It looked a lot like a smart watch. It had a massive crack in the screen and you figured it must have been damaged in the crash. “Is it broken?” you asked as he took his hand back and inspected where his palm had made contact with your skin before looking up at you with those same colorful piercing eyes.

You noticed how the color seemed to surge in a ring-like pattern from time to time. ‘Perhaps in time with his heartbeat?’ you wondered. He nodded finally, glancing at his watch. “It’s damaged. Must have happened when I crashed my-” his eyes suddenly went wide and he gasped.

“My ship!” he yelled, looking up at you. “Where’s my ship?!”

You held up a hand to calm him. “It’s okay! It’s nearby in the woods on my property.”

“I need to see it,” he said, scrambling to his feet but suddenly he doubled over, groaning. You climbed across the bed and stood up next to him. “Whoa, slow down there,” you said as you took his arm gently and guided him to sit back down as he kept a hand on his side just above his hip.

You turned to Jake and pointed at the tote he’d brought. “Bring me that, please,” you said.

Jake bent down, grabbing the handles and brought it to the bed where he handed it to you before taking a few steps back, keeping his eyes on the man.

You started to sift through the bag, pulling out a pair of gray sweatpants and a gray shirt.

You set them aside and turned to the man. “I need to take a look at your stomach,” you said, making him glance up. “What?” he asked. You nodded to where his hand was clamped over his side. “I need to look. You could be really hurt.” The man looked up at you, eyeing you up.

“Are you a doctor?” he asked. Jake scoffed from his place by the door, shutting up when you shot daggers at him with a glare. You turned your attention back to the man. “I’m in school for medicine,” you said, failing to mention your area of focus was animals and not people.

The man finally relented and let out a shaky breath before reaching up to unzip the top of his flight suit, pulling it down and you tried not to look flustered as he shrugged out of it, showing off his toned torso. He pushed the material down to his waist and you leaned around to get a look at his side.

“Is it okay if I touch you?” you asked, glancing up at him. He nodded, watching your face as you moved to kneel on the floor and reach up, fingers brushing against his skin. You gently pressed and he drew in a sharp breath. You looked up, meeting his gaze and felt your cheeks and ears burn before looking back down.

“It’s definitely bruised,” you said, starting to inspect the area around it which didn’t seem to be as tender. “Were you wearing safety restraints or anything?” you asked as you continued to prod around. He nodded, looking down where your hands were against his skin.

“I always wear safety restraints. That ship flies at almost fifty thousand decameters per hour,” he replied with a slight smirk. You slowly raised your gaze to meet his. “Fifty thousand what?” you whispered. He tilted his head curiously. “Decameters,” he answered.

You glanced at Jake who had moved from the door to the hall to the door to your bathroom.

“What the fuck is a decameter?” he asked, looking at the man.

“It sounds like ten meters,” you answered for the man. “Deca is the prefix that means ten,” you added, looking up at Jake who shook his head. “I’m not asking you, Y/N, I’m asking him.”

The man turned his head to look at Jake who took a step back upon seeing the man’s eyes for the first time. “She’s right,” he answered. “A decameter is ten meters.”

“Then why not say ten meters? Why even use decameters?” Jake asked, sounding annoyed. “Sounds like you’re overcomplicating things.”

“In my society, we measure everything in intervals of ten,” the man answered. “Sounds dumb,” Jake murmured, causing you to glare at him but the man smiled. “Sounds stupid?” he asked, drawing your best friend’s attention.

“Tell me,” the man said, turning his head again to face Jake. “Does a ship that travels at five-hundred thousand meters per hour sound like it was made by someone who was ‘stupid?’”

Your lips parted as the man spoke. ‘Five-hundred thousand meters per hour? Is that even possible?’

Jake looked even more shocked than you felt and the man knew it. He let out a little chuckle as he turned away from your best friend back to face you. “That’s what I thought,” he said softly.

You withdrew your hands from his body. “It doesn’t seem like there’s any internal bleeding,” you said, looking up to meet his eyes. “But that needs some attention,” you pointed at his shoulder where there was a decent size cut.

He looked at his shoulder and huffed. “Wonder when that happened,” he murmured as you got up and leaned in to look at his wound. “Maybe when you crashed? Might have cut it on something?” you suggested. The man shrugged. “Perhaps,” he answered.

“I’ll be right back,” you said softly and started to walk to the door. Jake’s hand wrapped around your wrist stopped you as you reached for the door. “Where are you going?” he hissed. “I’m getting the first aid kit,” you answered, glancing back at the man as he sat calmly on your bed.

“I’m coming with you,” Jake hissed but you pushed him back. “I won’t be long,” you said. “Just keep an eye on him,” you added with a nod towards the man. Jake shook his head. “No freaking way,” he whispered. “I’m not on babysitting duty!”

Before you could respond, the man spoke up.

“I’m not going to kill you,” he said, making you and Jake look over. He was turned on the bed, looking over his shoulder at the both of you. “If my presence makes you that uncomfortable, you can go get the first aid kit and Y/N can stay here to ‘keep an eye on’ me,” he said with a smirk.

The wink he sent your way didn’t go unnoticed by either you or your best friend. Jake frowned, letting go of your wrist. “Just hurry up, yeah?” he said, glancing at you before moving to stand by the bathroom door. You nodded and opened your door.

Like you had said, you were back in a couple minutes at most, the kit in your hand as you entered the room. The man had moved, sitting on the other side of the bed facing the door instead. “Welcome back,” he said jokingly as you entered, making you smile before you shut the door and walked over, sitting beside him and opening the case.

Jake watched as both you and the man looked down at the case. “Alright,” you said, taking a deep breath. “Let’s take a closer look at this,” you said looking up. “Jake, can you turn on the light, please?”

Your best friend moved to the door, flipping the switch without a word. You thanked him and turned your focus back on the man’s shoulder. It was a pretty large gash but nothing was protruding nor could you see any muscle underneath which you felt was a good sign. It might still need stitches.

You grabbed the blue gloves and pulled them on before picking up an alcohol prep pad and tore open the packet. “This might sting,” you said, looking up. The man simply smiled and nodded. You started to carefully wipe around the edge of the gash.

Jake had crept closer to get a better look at what you were doing.

Once you’d cleaned the outside of the gash, you inspected the inside closer. “It looks like there’s some fibers from your suit in the wound,” you said softly. “I’m going to need to flush it,” you said, meeting his gaze again. He kept smiling at you and nodded.

“Just do whatever you need to do.”

You picked up the small bottle of saline and grabbed a dry cotton pad. “This might-”

“It won’t,” the man interrupted. “Sting. It won’t sting,” he clarified. You nodded and looked back down at his wound, trying not to focus on the hammering of your heart in your chest.

You had been so mesmerized by his eyes earlier that you hadn’t noticed exactly how handsome he was and now that his face was so close to yours, it was hard not to notice.

You tipped the bottle over and squeezed some of the liquid into the wound and watched as the fibers and blood washed out and started staining the cotton pad. A couple more squeezes and you were able to get the wound clean.

Now that you could see it better, you could see that he would need stitches after all. 

You clicked your tongue in annoyance. “Shit,” you whispered.

“That doesn’t sound good,” the man said, watching your face. You looked up and sighed. “You’re going to need stitches,” you replied. “I have the materials,” you answered. “ But I don’t have any anesthesia,” you explained. The man nodded, glancing down at his shoulder.

“What about the stuff your dad uses on the cows?” Jake asked. You rolled your eyes at him. “That’s for cows, Jake. You can’t use that on people,” you explained. “But-” you shot Jake a glare, effectively silencing him. “I don’t think taking you to the hospital will be beneficial,” you continued.

The man smiled. “No,” he answered. “It would only cause problems,” he added. “It’s alright, just do the procedure.” Your eyes shot up at his suggestion.

“Y-you want me to do stitches on you without anesthesia?” you asked, not sure if your ears were working properly. ‘There’s no way he just said that.’

The man nodded. “Yes,” he replied. “It’s not going to be an issue for me. My pain tolerance is extremely high,” he explained. “Just do it please.”

You stared at him for a moment longer before nodding slowly. “O-okay,” you whispered.

“Okay, I’m out,” Jake announced. “I’m not watching you stick a needle and thread in his skin over and over. I’ll be downstairs,” he added, heading for the door, opening it and disappearing as he closed it, leaving you and the man alone.

The man looked at you with a smile. “And then there were two,” he said softly.

You gathered the suture and needle. “Are you sure about this?” you asked as you threaded the needle.

The man nodded as you moved into position. “My sutures aren’t perfect,” you continued. “But they’ll do the job.” The man smiled as you shook your hands before bringing your hand closer to his skin.

“It’s okay,” he said softly. “I trust you.”

Relief flooded your body as he uttered those words and you got to work, carefully stitching and tying off the suture as you sewed his skin back together. Your stitches weren’t perfect but they weren’t awful. As you finished the final suture, you set the needle and thread down and picked up another cotton pad and saline to clean the newly formed blood before picking up some antiseptic and covered the wound with it before finally covering it all with a large bandage.

“So,” you said softly. “What’s your name?” you asked, glancing up at him. You would never get used to those eyes. There was no way.

“Minho,” he finally answered, drawing you from your thoughts. “I’m Minho.”

You smiled at him. “And you’re Y/N?” he continued. You nodded excitedly. “And that man,” he added, nodding towards the door. “Jake? Is he your… boyfriend?”

You snorted, shaking your head. “No. Just my dumb best friend.”

Minho tilted his head. “What’s a best friend?”

You reached up to scratch your forehead. “You know what a friend is?” you asked, hoping he did. He nodded. “It’s that but the one you spend the most time with. Your favorite one. The one who knows everything about you and you know everything about them,” you explained.

“The one that no matter what, will always be there for you,” you continued, hoping Minho understood.

He nodded and smiled. “So best friend, not boyfriend.”

“Exactly,” you answered with a smile of your own.

Minho looked up as you removed your gloves and gathered all the used supplies to toss in your desk waste bin. As you returned to his side and packed away the rest of the supplies, he gently took your hand, making you look at him. He stared up at you with those bright eyes before his lips parted.

“Thank you,” he said softly. You offered him a kind smile. “It’s no trouble,” you replied as you closed the kit and latched it. “I may not be great at sutures yet,” you continued. “But I’m pretty decent at sewing. Maybe I could stitch that up for you as well?”

You pointed at the hole in his flight suit as he was pulling it back on. Minho glanced down at it. “Well shit,” he murmured. “That would explain the cut.” You held back a chuckle. “Are you going to sew it while it’s on me?” he asked, looking up. You shook your head before leaning across your bed and grabbed the clothes. “You can change into these,” you explained.

“And I’m sure you’ll want to take a shower. Clean up while you’re at it,” you added.

Minho nodded, grabbing the clothes from you and stood up. He wasn’t huge, probably about average human male height, even with the thick sole boots he wore. “Where can I… shower?” he asked, hesitating. You led him over to the bathroom door and turned on the light. “In here,” you answered.

You moved to the shower, pulling the rolling door aside and leaned in, turning on the stream and setting it to hot. “You can use this dial to adjust the temperature,” you explained, pointing to the handle. “And then to shut it off,” you continued and turned the handle back to the right until it pointed down.

“All the way down to the right,” you explained, looking back at Minho who was watching you with rapt attention. “There are towels in here,” you moved over to the small linen closet and opened it, grabbing a towel and handing it to him before shutting the door.

“And there’s plenty of soaps in here,” you continued, pointing at the soaps, shampoo and conditioner. “This one is for your body,” you said, pointing to the body wash. “And this is for hair,” you pointed to another bottle. “What that one?” Minho asked, pointing at the conditioner. “That’s to make your hair soft. You use it after you wash and rinse your hair,” you explained.

“And that?” he asked, pointing at your shaving cream. “Don’t worry about that,” you answered. “That’s not something you’ll need to use. Just stick with the body wash and shampoo. That’s all you should need.”

Minho nodded as you moved back to the linen closet and grabbed a washcloth and handed it to him. “That’s a washcloth,” you explained. “You use this to wash your body with the body wash. Keep this towel out of the water. You want this one dry,” you added, pointing to the towel.

You took the towel and clothes from him, setting them on the sink counter. “Just take that in there. Take off your suit and when you get in the shower, I’ll grab it and stitch up that tear in the shoulder,” you continued and moved to the door. “If you need anything, just call and I’ll see if I can help.”

You gave him a parting smile and exited, shutting the door behind you.

While waiting for the sound of the shower, you set up your sewing machine, filling a bobbin with a dark gray thread, hoping it would match.

Once you heard the shower turn on, you walked over to the door and knocked. “I’m coming in now. I won’t look at you I promise,” you announced, taking the handle and turning it. You peered in and saw the suit folded and set neatly on the counter. You stepped in and grabbed it, making sure not to look at Minho in the shower.

You exited the bathroom, shutting the door and moved over to your sewing table.

Sewing up the tear was much easier than performing surgery on Minho and once you were done, you admired your handiwork. The shower shut off in the bathroom and you decided you’d throw the suit in the wash to get some of the dirt stains out.

You hurried down the steps where Jake was sitting in the living room, watching TV. He looked up as you walked in. “Well?” he asked. “He just took a shower. His stitches are fine. I’m just throwing this in the wash for him,” you said, holding up the suit.

Jake rolled his eyes and turned back to the show he was watching.

Once you’d started the wash you walked back into the living room, placing your hands on the back of the sofa next to your best friend’s shoulder. “His name is Minho,” you said, drawing his attention. “Really?” he asked, looking up at you.

Nodding, you stood up straight. “Yep,” you replied. 

“And how do you know that?” Jake asked as you walked towards the stairs. “I asked!” you answered before starting back up the steps and down the hall to your room. The bathroom door was open and Minho was standing in the middle of your room, using the towel to dry his damp hair.

He pulled on the clothes you’d given him and you were pleased that they fit him so well.

He glanced up as you entered. “Are you hungry?” you asked. He hesitated, blinking a couple times before nodding. “Actually,” he said softly. “I’m ravenous.”

You led Minho down to the living area where Jake was still watching TV. Minho stopped behind the couch, eyes fixated on the television. You gently grabbed his wrist and dragged him into the kitchen, gesturing for him to sit at the kitchen island.

You moved to the fridge and opened it, peering inside. “Is there anything you don’t eat?” you asked, peering over your shoulder. “Anything you’re allergic to?”

You heard Jake scoff from the living room. “He’s an alien, Y/N. They don’t have allergies.”

You chastised Jake for being rude but Minho merely smiled. “No,” he answered politely. “No allergies. But I’m not overly fond of green peppers,” he added. You smiled and turned back to the fridge, grabbing the eggs, some bacon, and the steaks your mother had meant to have ready for your dad to grill the other night. ‘She won’t miss these. I’ll replace them if I have to.’

You set all your findings on the counter and opened a drawer to pull out a couple pans.

Once the skillets were heated up, you put the steaks in one and started the bacon in another. At the first sizzle of food, Jake had wandered into the kitchen and was looking hopefully at the food in the skillets. “Is that just for him or for everyone?” he asked.

You snickered and nodded. “I’m not making four t-bone steaks for one person,” you replied.

With that, you glanced up at Minho. “How many eggs do you want?” He tilted his head curiously. You picked up an egg to show him. “Do you eat them like that?” he asked, genuinely curious but his question made Jake burst into laughter as he moved to stand beside you.

You slapped his arm. “Stop being so rude!” You turned to Minho. “No,” you answered. “I’ll crack the egg and fry the insides,” you explained. Minho nodded and looked from the egg in your hands to the rest in the holder. “Five,” he finally said, catching both you and Jake off guard.

Jake was the first to break the awkward silence that ensued. “You can’t seriously believe you can eat five fried eggs and one of these steaks and bacon,” he stated. Minho’s smile turned into a smirk.

“Watch me.”

Thirty minutes later, you sat sipping on your coffee, musing over the look of shock on your best friend’s face. You both had one steak a piece. You’d made eight fried eggs total, five of them for Minho as well as a third of a pound of bacon. You’d eaten one egg and two slices of bacon with your steak, Jake had put away two eggs with his steak and three pieces of bacon.

Minho, on the other hand, had managed to consume two steaks, five eggs, and the rest of the bacon.

Jake watched with a mixture of shock, jealousy, and respect as Minho downed the rest of the second steak and the rest of his water. “I sit corrected,” Jake said softly, looking from the alien to you and back. Minho smiled at the both of you before he picked up his napkin and wiped his mouth.

“Now,” he said matter-of-factly. “Where’s my ship?”

You grabbed a jacket and one of the sweatshirts Jake brought over for Minho before letting him borrow some of your dad’s socks and shoes.

He sat in the back of the Jeep as you got in the front with Jake.

The drive to the woods wasn’t long but it was preferable to walking. Once Jake parked the car, Minho hopped out of the back and moved to your door as you opened it. He offered his hand to help you down, offering a wink as you looked up at him breathlessly.

“It’s, uh, this way,” you said, pointing and then leading the way towards the woods.

During the day, the walk took far less time and as the three of you scrambled over the ridge, the ship came into view and Minho cursed softly, carefully making his way down the slope with you and Jake reluctantly in tow.

You watched as he walked around the ship slowly, taking note of the condition before he headed for the open door and started inside. You followed, ignoring Jake’s warnings and peered into the open doorway. Minho was inside, sitting in a seat and flipping various switches.

He was murmuring and muttering under his breath as he tried to get some sort of response.

The console of the ship looked trashed, broken with wires sticking out everywhere.

Minho turned to look behind him before getting up and disappearing behind a wall. You grabbed onto a bar and started to pull yourself in. You reached the seat and craned your neck to see into the back. There was a small hallway leading through the ship to a wall with a door.

Minho was crouched in the middle of the hall, a floor panel in his hands as he inspected whatever mechanical that lay underneath. You looked around again and noticed that he had multiple monitors around the console. Silver embossed letters at the bottom read ‘S.T.A.N.’

‘Stan?’ you wondered to yourself as Minho cursed again, tossing the floor grate down and running his fingers through his hair. You felt your heart tug at his anguish.

“Is it totaled?” you asked, causing him to jump slightly. He turned to look behind at you before standing up and making his way back. “What’s totaled?” he asked as he reached the cockpit. “It’s like when you crash a car and the insurance company calculates the damage and decides it would cost more to fix than replace so they total it,” you explained.

Minho’s lips curled into a smirk. He shook his head. “No,” he said softly, one hand on his hip and his forearm resting on the back of the seat. “It’s not beyond repair,” he added. “I just need tools and a place to store it while I work on it. These conditions aren’t exactly ideal,” he continued.

You hesitated as you wracked your brain. An idea hit you suddenly. You brightened up and held up your index finger. “One second,” you said and hurried out of the ship, dropping to the ground. Jake started forward and started looking you over. “Are you alright?” he asked but you dismissed his concern.

“Does Julia still work for Ted?” Jake looked confused but nodded slowly.

“You think she could call in a favor?”

“Y/N,” Jake started but you interrupted him. “Just answer the question, Jake, please.”

He shrugged. “Yeah, I guess so. Ted owes her for covering his ass several times. A smile formed on your face. “Call your sister. We need those favors.”

It turned out that Ted, one of the farmers who owned an auto body shop in town, owed Julie several favors and she cashed in three of them on your behalf. You were almost beside yourself when a flatbed with an excavator and small crane pulled into your driveway. You waved and guided Ted to the old path into the forest.

He used the excavator to clear a path in the direction you led before moving the excavator back outside the forest and driving the crane into the forest. Upon seeing the craft, Ted was both shocked and also in awe at the sight. Julia had bought his silence with another one of her favors.

Ted was a professional, leaving the crane in place and walking back to get the flatbed and backing it up to the ship. Minho helped secure the bands and chains, careful not to cause any further damage before Ted used the crane to lift it.

Surprisingly, the ship lifted with no problem. Ted placed it onto the flatbed and once it was strapped down, he drove the flatbed out and Jake guided him to the barn, pushing the doors open and having him back it up.

You were lucky that your uncle had briefly ran a mechanic shop out of the barn until he left town so there was a lift and using the crane, Ted managed to secure the ship on the lift. Afterwards, Ted packed up his gear and with one final promise to never say another word about it, Ted and Julia left your family’s property, leaving you, Jake, and Minho behind.

You smiled triumphantly and even Jake couldn’t fault you for your cunning, knowing Ted would never break a promise made to Julia after she caught him doing things he wasn’t supposed to be doing on the job. 

Jake took his leave next and then it was just you and Minho.

You showed him where your father kept his tools and once the tour of the barn was over, you stood in the doorway of the barn with Minho, looking up at the gray sky.

“I think it’s going to rain,” you murmured. Minho looked from the sky to you. “Do you not like the rain?” he asked. You shook your head. “I like it when the sky is clear,” you answered. “I prefer it when I can see the stars.” Minho smiled and looked back up at the sky.

A soft meow caught both your attention and you glanced down to see one of the gray barn cats rubbing against Minho’s leg. “Sorry,” you said, moving to pick up the cat. Minho smiled and reached a hand up for the cat to sniff before petting it, even scratching it under the chin.

The cat purred in your arms at the affection before struggling against your hold and you let it jump from your arms onto a stack of hay next to the door. “Come on,” you said softly, gesturing to Minho. “Let’s get inside before the storm comes in.”

Minho looked up as you shut the barn doors, securing them and started for the house with him on your heels. “Storm?” he asked and you nodded. “Yeah,” you replied. “A thunderstorm is coming,” you added. “How can you tell?” he asked. You chuckled as you climbed the steps to the door and opened it.

“Because I’m from the midwest.”

Your intuition was spot on and by the time dinner rolled around, a storm had blown in. Most of it was wind, lightning and thunder so you used some of the money your mother had left to order pizza for delivery. You chose to get two pizzas just in case.

You sat on the couch with Minho, eating pizza and watching a movie. You decided to let him pick something based on the title and cover and unsurprisingly, he picked Alien and you had to try to keep your laughter in as you started the movie.

Minho watched with great fascination as the characters experienced misfortune after misfortune and as the titular antagonist appeared on screen, his rainbow eyes wide with rapt attention.

“It’s probably highly inaccurate,” you finally said as the creature on screen stalked Ripley through the cargo bay. Minho shook his head. “No actually, it’s not far off,” he answered, making you cough as you choked on your soda.

“Wh-what?” you stammered. He turned to look at you. “What?” he asked, a smirk forming on his face. “You think all aliens look this good?” he asked jokingly. You swallowed thickly, eyes returning to the screen. “So there are… aliens like that out there?” you asked softly.

Minho leaned against the back of the couch, resting his arm behind you. “Oh yeah,” he replied. You turned to look back at him, eyes wide with shock. “Even the acid blood?” you asked, your voice barely above a whisper.

Minho nodded slowly, the light from the television illuminating one side of his face. You couldn’t be sure but it almost looked like his eyes dipped down to look at your lips but as quickly as you thought you saw, his eyes were looking back into yours.

“And the d-double jaws?” you asked. Minho nodded again. “Even down to the parasitic nature. The creatures that implant an embryo in your stomach and then it erupts from your body,” he said quietly, moving his hand up to place his palm against your chest, against your heart.

“From right here,” he continued.

Embarrassingly, your heart rate sped up and you knew by the look on his face that he felt it.

“Does that scare you?” he asked softly. You shook your head, trying to be brave. In truth, the thought terrified you. That there were parasitic, intelligent, lifeforms out there in the universe like the Xenomorph.

“What if I told you that my race is like that?” he asked suddenly, face void of any emotion.

Your blood ran cold and your stomach dropped. ‘What have you done, you idiot?’ Jake’s voice came to mind, chastising you for being so dumb. Trusting an alien. How stupid could you be?

You gulped, your fear showing on your face as Minho leaned even closer. His lips parted but before he could say or do anything, a clap of thunder caught you off guard and you jumped. Minho let out a chuckle as he pulled back.

“I’m just messing with you,” he said, cracking a huge grin. You stared at him incredulously.

“Wait, seriously?” He nodded, still laughing. “At most, a parasitic life form will give you the stomach flu or something similar,” he explained. “In all my years of schooling, we never learned about any life forms like that. The most dangerous alien lifeform is bacteria,” he continued, grabbing his can of soda and downing the rest.

You studied him as he set the can down and turned his attention back to the television. You finally did the same as the movie ended, Ripley’s log playing over a starry background before the credits started to roll. You picked up the remote and stopped the movie before turning the tv off and reaching beside you to turn on the lamp on the side table.

You cleaned up and made sure the house was locked, checking out the backdoor that the animals had gone into their barn before calling the dogs in and putting them in your parents’ bedroom.

Back in the living room, Minho was standing at the front door, peering outside. You walked up next to him and he turned his head to look at you, smiling at you and watching as you locked the storm door before backing up and grabbing the main door and shutting it and locking it, turning off the porch light.

“What about the cats?” he asked softly as you headed to turn off the lamp.

“They’ll be okay,” you answered. “They stay mostly in the barn,” you continued.

“We can check on them in the morning, if you’d like,” you added as you joined him by the stairs and turning off the overhead light and turning on the light at the top of the stairs.

Minho climbed the steps behind you as you led him to the guest room and showed him around. “I’m just down the hall,” you continued, moving to stand by the door. “I’ll see you in the morning,” you added, shooting him a smile.

As you started to close the door, he called out to you, forcing you to open the door and peer in. “Leave the door open, please?” he asked as he sat on the bed, bedside lamp on. You nodded and left the door cracked open before walking down the hall to your own room, closing the door behind you and finally changing into your pajamas and climbing into your bed.

It had been a long and busy day and almost as soon as you were under the covers, you were out.

It only took you a few days to get used to having Minho around. You had told him he only had a week to get his ship fixed and get out of there before your family returned. Jake came by to keep you company but quickly grew annoyed with Minho’s presence and would leave after only an hour.

You went about your daily chores, feeding and taking care of the animals while Minho worked on his ship. You checked in from time to time, bringing him water or food whenever the time struck. He could still put back a lot of food and you would have to make a note to make a trip to the grocery store before your family returned home.

“Lunch time!” you called as you pushed open the door and peered in. Minho was leaning against the work table, holding one of the cats in his arms as he scratched its head and cooed at it. You smiled as you walked further into the barn holding a plate with a stack of sandwiches and a large bottle of water.

Minho glanced up from the cat and smiled as you approached, setting the bottle of water and plate on the table next to him. The cat in his arms leapt gracefully to the floor and trotted off as Minho brushed his hands off and picked up one of the sandwiches.

He took a bite, munching happily as you walked over to the ship, looking at it as you walked around it.

“It doesn’t look like there was much damage on the outside,” you noted as you rounded towards the back of the ship. Minho spoke a moment later. “No,” he answered. “Most of the damage is internal.” You said nothing as you rounded the front and he came back into view. Two of the sandwiches were now gone. “Speaking of,” you said, walking over to his side.

“Let me have a look at that bruise,” you continued, nodding at his side.

Minho lifted his arm but continued eating his sandwich as your fingers worked to untuck the shirt he wore.

Jake had brought over some more of his brother’s old clothes. Mostly tee shirts, jeans, sweats, and a few jackets. The weather had taken a turn and it was getting colder during the days now. Minho had chosen a white tee with a small red logo on a pocket on the right side of the chest. The jeans were just plain light denim and he’d also started to use the belts Jake included for some reason. 

You lowered your gaze to his side and gently prodded the spot that had been so tender a couple days prior. Minho didn’t wince and the skin didn’t look discolored. You glanced up to find him already looking at you, watching your face as you inspected him. “It doesn’t hurt?” you asked, pressing your fingers against his side. He shook his head.

“There’s no discoloration either,” you added, dropping the shirt. He smiled at you before swallowing the food in his mouth. “My body reabsorbs blood that doesn’t make it outside the body,” he said, chuckling when he noticed your shocked expression. “I’m like you but more advanced,” he added.

He finished his fourth sandwich and grabbed the last one. Five seemed to be his number, a small detail you noticed. Five eggs, five sandwiches. “These are good,” he said, holding the sandwich up before taking a bite. “What’s inside?” he asked, pulling back the bread a little to look at the filling.

“Egg salad,” you answered as you moved back around to pick up the empty plate. Minho reached out and gently grabbed your wrist. “Leave it,” he said softly. “I’ll bring it in later.”

You smiled but shook your head. “It’s fine,” you answered, picking up the plate and pulling from his hold. “I’m used to cleaning up.” As you started to walk away, Minho called out to you.

You turned back to look at him as you reached the door. “Will you come back when you’re done?” he asked and you smiled back at him. “If you’d like me to.” He nodded slowly. “I’d like that a lot,” he replied. Your cheeks burned and you nodded back to show you understood.

“I’ll be right back then.”

Outside the barn a gray overcast had started to fill the sky. More clouds and rain were in the forecast tonight but nothing like the storms from the other night.

You took the plate to the kitchen and set it in the sink, placing your hands on the counters and stared down at the white ceramic. ‘Stop it,’ you told yourself sternly. ‘He’s an alien. He’s not human. You can’t keep feeling this way.’

Trying to tell your heart to calm down was easier said than done and you would come to find it harder and harder the more time you spent with Minho. 

As promised, you returned to the barn and kept him company while he worked, sitting cross-legged on one of the square bales of hay while he worked under the ship, reaching through an open panel and reattached wires.

“So,” you said softly as one of the barn cats came out from hiding to crawl into your lap where it was warm. You petted the animal, looking back up at Minho. “Where are you from?” you asked, drawing his attention. He managed to hook a few more wires before pushing his hair back and turning to face you.

“Somewhere really far away from here,” he answered. You fixed him with a grimace. “I know that,” you replied. “But where is that?” Minho chuckled as he moved around the lift holding his ship and walked over to sit next to you, reaching a hand out to pet the cat as it purred and snuggled up in your lap.

“Did you know the universe is split into quadrants?” he asked softly, not looking up to meet your gaze. You looked at his face, his rainbow eyes fixated on the furry creature in your lap. “Like in Star Trek?” you asked before remembering he didn’t know what that was. “Sorry, it’s a-”

“I know what Star Trek is,” he said softly, glancing up to meet your gaze. “It’s a television show from the late nineteen-sixties, right?” You nodded slowly, watching as a grin spread across his face. “You’d be surprised at the reception we get back home,” he said simply.

You waited for him to continue but when he didn’t you spoke again.

“Where is home?”

Minho stopped petting the cat and looked up to meet your gaze once more.

“So, like I said, the universe is split into quadrants. Your galaxy is located on the edge of the Alpha Quadrant,” he explained. “My galaxy is located somewhere in the Delta Quadrant.”

You listened as he explained the quadrants and their structure before moving onto his galaxy. His home world was located one of six arms of a spiral galaxy, a lot like the Milky Way. “And in the third arm, is my solar system,” he continued. “The Chronos-Demos System,” your eyes were shining as he explained and he found it so endearing.

“Chronos-Demos?” you asked, tilting your head. This was more information that you could have ever hoped to learn. Minho was from an entirely different galaxy, millions of lightyears away from Earth. He’d seen things you could only dream of.

“It’s a two star system,” he explained. “Much like Proxima Centauri. We have two suns,” he explained. Your lips parted in awe as he spoke. “Here,” he said, getting up. “I’ll be right back.”

You watched as he walked over to the ship and pulled himself up, disappearing into the open door. You could faintly hear him moving about before he reappeared and dropped down, carrying some sort of tablet as he returned and took a seat beside you.

He tapped on the screen and it came to life. He started to tap around, pulling up a map and turned the tablet so you could see.

On the screen was a diagram, much like the ones you’d seen in science books when you learned about the Solar System as a child.

On one end was a large yellow sphere, solar flares shooting out from the surface. On the opposite side was an equally large red sphere, also with flames flickering from the surface. “Chronos is a class G star, a lot like Sol,” he explained before you held up a hand to stop him.

“Sol?” you asked, looking at his face. He smiled and nodded. “Your star,” he started. “You mean the Sun?” you asked and he nodded.

“In my society, your star system is called the Sol System. Sol means Sun in Latin.”

You nodded. “Okay,” you said softly as you started to follow along. “Sorry for interrupting.”

Minho smiled and went back to explaining the diagram.

“The red red star is Demos Gnu and is a class M star. I think your race calls it a ‘red dwarf,’” he said, glancing up as you nodded. “Yeah, that’s the common name but scientifically it’s a type m star,” you replied. “It has a smaller light field but produces more radiation,” you replied. Minho nodded, with a smile. “You know your stars,” he said, sounding impressed.

“My mother taught me,” you explained, a surge of pride filling your chest.

Minho continued, zooming in on the diagram.

“This little purple planet is Ahcar-3,” he said. “It’s very close to Chronos and has no life on it. It also doesn’t have a moon. This one,” he continued, moving the screen until a pink and purple planet with rings came into view with two moons. “This is Ninsa,” he said, a hint of pride in his voice.

“This,” he said, looking up to meet your gaze. “Is my home.”

You leaned closer to get a better look. It was a beautiful planet. The surface was a swirl of light pink and purple and the rings, all five of them were a darker purple. The moons were relatively small compared to the planet, one was white and the other reddish.

“Why is one of the moons red?” you asked, looking up at the alien. He smiled and pulled the tablet back to zoom in further on the red moon. “That’s Ta,” he explained. “It’s a mining location and it’s extremely rich in iron ore,” he explained. “The soil has a lot of ferric oxide in it, a lot like Sol IV,” he said.

“Sol IV?”

Minho smiled again, setting the tablet down. “Your system, Sol, is home to ten planetary objects. Sol I, is the first one from the sun,” he explained. “Mercury,” you replied. “We call it Mercury.” He nodded. “So then Sol II is Venus?” you asked and he nodded again. “So then Earth is Sol III and Mars is Sol IV?” Minho nodded again. “Exactly,” he answered.

“So Ta is like Mars because of all the ferric oxide?” you asked, clarifying and Minho nodded again. “Precisely,” he answered before picking up the tablet again and moving the screen. The next image you saw was two planets close together. “These are the Twins, Abo Phi,” he said, pointing to the yellow one. “And Boa Phi,” he continued, pointing at the orange one. “They orbit each other as they orbit the sun and they have one moon, Odomin,” he said, pointing to the small yellow moon.

“Does anyone live there?” you asked and he shook his head. “The government of Ninsa thought about colonizing but the likelihood of the two planets colliding either with one another or their moon is too great of a risk,” he explained. We’ve sent missions and studied them extensively so we know that nothing lives there,” he continued, scrolling to the next planet.

“This one is Averlent,” he said, showing you a turquoise and blue planet. “It’s the only successful colonization project we’ve had. It was colonized over ten thousand years ago,” he explained. “So she has a thriving metropolis and more settlements have popped up. Her moon is Horim, which is a tropical world and a very popular vacation spot,” Minho explained with a smile.

“Have you been there?” you asked looking up. He nodded. “I went there with my family last season,” he answered. “Our winters on Ninsa, especially where I live, are particularly harsh. So my family spent the winter on Horim.” You smiled, imagining Minho lounging on an otherworldly beach on the moon.

“That’s so cool,” you whispered. Minho chuckled and scrolled to the next planet. You had to keep from snorting when you saw it. It was a green and oval shaped planet with a darker green and just as oval moon. “This is Planet 9,” he explained. “No one knows why it’s called that,” he added. “This system has six planets.” You finally let out the laugh you’d been holding in.

“It’s the furthest from Chronos and the closest to Demos,” he explained. “You’ve probably noticed it’s not round like the others,” he continued. You nodded. “Is it spinning really fast on its axis?” you asked and Minho nodded. “Yes, and so is its moon, 1.43-C.” You laughed again, sitting up. “Reminds me of Haumea,” you noted as Minho shut off the screen.

“I think I saw that on my way into your system,” Minho replied.

You glanced down at the tablet. “Do you have any pictures of your home world?” you asked, Minho blinked at you before picking up the tablet and turning it back on. He tapped on the screen a few times before turning the screen towards you.

“This is the capital, Ninsa Prime,” he explained, showing you several pictures of a vast sprawling metropolis with high rises taller than you’d ever seen. “This is where I live,” he added as he continued to scroll through the images.

“Do you work there too?” you asked, looking up at him. He nodded, turning off the tablet. “Mostly,” he added. “I’m an aerospace engineer,” he continued. “Which is why I’m confident in my abilities to fix this ship,” he added, gesturing to the craft.

“I should probably let you get back to that,” you murmured, looking down at the cat still sleeping in your lap. Minho reached out, his knuckle gently lifting your chin and forcing you to look up at him. “I don’t mind the distraction,” he said with a smile before he finally got up and headed back towards the ship.

The rest of the day passed in a blur. You kept him company until the sun started to set and you got up to finish your chores. A light drizzle had settled in by the time Minho had finished for the day and came inside the house. He had gone up to shower while you fixed dinner when there was a knock at the door.

You walked over and peered outside. Jake was standing on your porch dressed in a zip up pullover, jeans, boots, and a baseball cap on his head. You unlocked and opened the door, smiling when your best friend turned to look at you. “Hey,” he said, opening the screen door.

You stepped back to let him in. “Something smells good,” he noted as he looked around.

“Where’s ET?” he asked and your smile fell. “Will you stop that?” you asked exasperatedly, moving around him and walking back to the kitchen with your best friend in tow. “It’s a joke, Y/N,” Jake said. “Lighten up a little.” You shot him a glare as you resumed stirring your sauce.

“What are you making?” he asked, looking at the stove.

“Tuscan chicken,” you answered as you added some pepper to the sauce. “He’s still eating half your kitchen?” Jake asked, noticing the grocery bags behind you. Nodding you looked up as footsteps announced the arrival of Minho who had showered and changed.

Jake and Minho locked eyes and Jake visibly stiffened as Minho’s expression went blank before walking over and taking a seat at the kitchen island. Jake moved around to stand next to you. “Well, it smells good anyway,” he said, leaning in to whisper in your ear before turning to open the fridge.

“What are you looking for?” you asked, glancing over your shoulder. “Where does your dad keep his beer?” your best friend asked. “In the fridge in the garage but if you drink it, you’re replacing it. I’ve already replaced a bunch of groceries.” Jake saluted as he shrugged off his jacket, slinging it on the back of one of the dining chairs as he made his way to the garage.

“Aye, aye captain!”

You rolled your eyes and turned back to find Minho already watching you.

“Why do you let him talk to you like that?” Minho asked softly. You froze and looked back up at him.

“L-like what?” you asked. “Like he owns you,” Minho continued. You shook your head. “It’s not like that,” you replied. “Jake is just… casual,” you said, trying to find the right word to describe your best friend. Minho narrowed his eyes as Jake returned but said nothing else.

Dinner was an awkward affair with you sitting at the end of the table with Minho to your left and Jake to your right across from him. The food was good, probably some of your best but you couldn’t seem to enjoy it with the way Minho and Jake were shooting daggers at one another from across the table.

After dinner, Jake moved to the living room to turn on the TV while Minho managed to beat you to the sink, despite your protests. “In my culture,” he said softly as he pulled on the dish gloves. “The cook never cleans,” he continued, giving you a wink.

You brought the dishes to the sink and watched in awe as he cleaned and rinsed them much quicker than you or your sister ever could have. You helped by setting the dishes to dry and soon, the sink was empty and Minho was rinsing the sides and pulling the gloves off.

“You’re so… human,” you said softly as you leaned against the counter. He smiled at your words and looked up, his rainbow eyes meeting yours. “We aren’t that different,” he said, his smile faltering as he looked past you to the living room. You glanced behind where Jake was looking back.

“Y/N, could you get me another beer?” You rolled your eyes. “Get it yourself,” you retorted with a smirk. “You got two legs.” There was a silence before you heard Jake get up, presumably to get another drink. “What did you say to me?” he asked, his tone low. You turned to look at him.

He looked angry. You were taken aback. It wasn’t unusual for the two of you to bicker like this before. “I told you to get it yourself,” you repeated. Jake stormed around the couch, making a beeline for you. The next series of events happened so fast you almost didn’t catch it.

As your best friend stormed towards you, Minho instinctively put his arm in front of you, pushing you behind him and putting himself between you and Jake, making your best friend freeze in his tracks. It took you a moment to realize that a deep rumbling growl was coming from Minho, the vibration coursing through his body.

You peered around Minho to see Jake’s look of shock and almost fear. You quickly moved past Minho, coming between the two. “Stop it,” you said loudly, looking from Jake to Minho. It was then you finally saw the look on the alien’s face. He was furious. His eyes had gone a distinct shade of red, brow furrowed and nostrils flared. If you’d been on the receiving end of that, you’d be terrified.

You turned back to Jake. “You should probably go,” you said softly. Your best friend finally withdrew his attention from Minho and looked at you incredulously. “You’re kicking me out?! What about psycho bastard over here?” he yelled, pointing at Minho who let out another growl.

You held a hand up towards Minho. “Stop,” you commanded calmly and to your surprise, he listened, backing down but keeping his eyes on Jake. You turned to your best friend. “He has nowhere else to go,” you reminded him. “He’s working on his ship and once it’s fixed, he’ll leave. Just be patient,” you told him. “And go home.”

Jake cursed under his breath, moving to grab his jacket from the back of the couch and headed for the door with you behind him. You threw a look back at Minho, who was still watching Jake intently. Jake stepped out onto the porch and pulled his jacket on. “It needs to leave,” he said suddenly. 

“I don’t like the idea of you alone in this house with it,” he added. You waved his concern away. “He is just fine. And he will leave when he finishes fixing his ship. Goodnight, Jake.” You shut the door and locked it, leaving your best friend on the porch.

He was starting to get on your nerves with his jealousy and disrespect. He wasn’t normally like this and you couldn’t understand why he was suddenly acting so rude to a stranger. He’d never done that before. You chalked it up to Minho being from a different world. Jake was just being protective. That had to be it.

The moment the door shut, Minho was by your side, looking over you and taking your face in his hands. “Are you alright?” he asked softly. His eyes were back to the rainbow you’d grown accustomed to. You nodded silently. “I’m fine,” you replied with a weak smile.

“I’m sorry for the way I behaved,” he added. “I just went into protective mode,” he continued. “I know that alcohol impairs one’s judgment.” You smiled up at him. “Thank you for wanting to protect me. Jake wouldn’t hurt me,” you continued. “He’s just mad about something. He’ll cool off.”

“Y/N?” Minho said softly, drawing your attention. “Hmm?” you asked. “Are you sure you’re okay?”

His expression was full of curiosity. Those same rainbow eyes looking back at you. “Can I ask you something?” you asked, looking down and taking his hand as nonchalantly as you could. Minho glanced down at your hands and back up, nodding.

“Why did your eyes change color?”

Minho let out a low chuckle, shaking his head slightly before answering. “It’s linked to my emotions,” he explained. “Your emotions?” you asked, tilting your head. He nodded before explaining.

“My eyes change color when I experience strong emotions. Rage, grief, shame, fear…” he stated. “My eyes will change depending on the emotion I experience. Red, gold, green, gray, purple, pink,” he continued, listing off various colors. “So what color is red?” you asked curiously. “Rage,” Minho answered softly. “And Gold?” Minho smiled at you. “Joy,” he replied.

“What about gray?” Minho’s smile faltered a little. “Gray is for grief,” he continued to answer.

“And what about pink?” He chuckled, lifting your hand to his face, placing a soft kiss to the back of it, making your heart flutter before he looked up. “Shame. Mostly embarrassment,” he answered. You nodded, looking back at your hands before meeting his gaze.

“What’s the color for fear?”

Minho hesitated to answer and you thought for a moment you’d messed up but he finally answered. “White,” he replied. You nodded, thinking back to the colors he’d listed off. “And what about purple?” you asked, wondering what emotion that could mean.

Minho’s smile dropped, replaced with a slight smirk as he stared back at you. You watched as his eyes briefly flashed a bright purple color before they went to pink and back to rainbow. “What’s that?” you asked, looking between his eyes. He shook his head “It’s nothing,” he murmured. Your cheeks burned as he dropped your hand, moving his hand to your waist and pulled you closer.

The heat radiating from his body was enough to drive you mad and you watched as his eyes flickered between rainbow and purple as his eyes searched your face, the hand on your waist, sliding to your hip and stopping. “Minho?” you whispered. He smiled, tilting his head. “Yes, Y/N?” he asked.

Your words failed as Minho held your gaze, his free hand coming up to your face, thumb brushing over the curve of your cheek before the same thumb moved down to brush over your bottom lip. His eyes dipped down to look at your lips before he leaned in, pressing his lips against yours.

At first, you leaned into the kiss, your heart hammering in your chest before you pulled back, stopping him as he tried to follow. “I’m…” you trailed off, not meeting his gaze. “I’m sorry,” you said softly. “I shouldn’t… we shouldn’t.”

You backed away from him. “I’m…” you trailed off. “I’m going to bed,” you said before turning and hurrying up the steps, leaving Minho to stare after you, confusion on his face.

Minho stared at the spot you disappeared, dumbfounded. Had he done something wrong? He knew that when you kiss someone it usually makes them feel better. So why didn’t it work? Why hadn’t his kiss cheered you up?

These thoughts swirled around in his head as he tried to wrap his brain around what he could have possibly said or done wrong. All he wanted was for you to feel better.

Although he wasn’t used to Earth’s customs, Minho was well aware of emotions and what they were. His people were descended from ancient humans. He understood what emotions were. Did you perhaps think he was incapable of feeling? That because he wasn’t from your world, he didn’t understand?

He slowly followed up the steps, stopping at the top of the staircase and looked down the hall where your door was shut. He had half a mind to walk to your door but decided against it. He didn’t want to upset you further. Instead he made his way to the guest room.

You must have wanted space so he was happy to give it.

Only a couple moments later when there was a soft knock on his door, Minho was confused as he answered it. You stood on the other side, having already changed into your pajamas, a plain shirt and shorts. You looked at him, eyes searching his.

“I wanted to apologize again,” you said as he leaned against the door frame. “I’m probably really confusing,” you said softly, chuckling at yourself. Minho said nothing, letting you speak uninterrupted. “We can just forget anything happened,” you said softly. “If you’d prefer.”

Minho narrowed his eyes, unable to stop the purple from surfaces as he tried to ignore your exposed thighs and the way your shirt left nothing to the imagination. He could feel something stirring inside him and if he wasn’t careful, he’d be unable to control it.

“I don’t,” he said suddenly, surprising you. “I don’t want to forget it,” he clarified.

“I wasn’t confused when I kissed you, Y/N,” he continued. “What—?” you started to ask, only for him to press a finger to your lips.

“I know you think because I’m not human that I don’t understand your feelings,” he started. “But I assure you, I understand them perfectly.” He removed his finger from your lips, placing his hand by your head on the door frame. “I’m not from Earth,” he continued. “And while I may not understand the culture of her inhabitants, Ninsans aren’t much different from Terrans.”

“You told me the other day you were sad that I’m leaving,” he said, tilting his head. You nodded, remembering the conversation you’d had a day or so ago. 

You’d grown so used to his presence that the thought of him leaving really upset you. Especially after the conversation you had today about his life and where he came from.

“We experience sadness, too. I’m sad that I have to leave as well,” he added. “I would be happy if I stayed here, with you.”

Your heart skipped a beat at his admission.

“I may not be human,” he continued, his hand moving to your cheek as he stared into your eyes.

“But I’m a man all the same. And while we come from different worlds and have different biology, we are inherently descended from the same species.”

You said nothing, merely staring back at him as he spoke.

“I understand more than you think. Like, love, desire, lust,” he continued to speak, his voice still soft. Your cheeks burned at the utterance of the last word. “They’re emotions I’ve felt before,” he added. “We aren’t that different, Y/N,�� he whispered, leaning closer so your lips were inches apart.

“These emotions aren’t unique to humans. Ninsans feel them, too. I feel them, too.”

He moved ever so slightly closer. “In fact,” he whispered, his breath hot against your lips.

“I feel them… right now.”

Any response you had was taken away the moment his lips met yours again.

This time, you didn’t push him away, instead, your arms wrapped around his neck, pulling him against you, your chest pressing against his. His arms went around your waist, backing into the room. Your kiss turned rushed, a mess of tongue as Minho backed you up to the bed, watching as you dropped onto the mattress and backed up, allowing him space to climb on after, hovering over you.

You looked up at him, his eyes were full of want, the pupils blown wide and his irises a ring of purple again. “Do you want this?” he asked softly, searching your face.

You nodded silently, drawing your bottom lip between your teeth. He moved one hand, cupping your cheek gently. “I need you to say it out loud,” he said softly. “Do you want this?”

You nodded again, this time speaking. “Yes.”

Minho’s eyes widened slightly. “I want you,” you whispered.

In one swift movement, Minho had you flat on your back, hands pinned against the bed as he hovered over you, hips between your parted thighs. “Say it again,” he breathed, his nose bumping yours gently. “Say you want me.”

You let out a gasp as you felt something brush against your inner thigh. “What is—?”

Minho leaned down, taking your lips in a messy kiss, tongue moving against yours languidly. He pulled back, only slightly, to speak again. “I told you before we aren’t that different,” he said softly.

“But in this,” he continued, the thing you felt before brushing against your thigh. “We most certainly are.

You let out a yelp as the appendage you felt earlier slipped under your shorts, pushing against your core.

“It’s okay,” Minho said softly, taking your face in his hands, forcing you to look at him. “Do you trust me?” he asked, searching your eyes. You nodded slowly. “Yes,” you managed to breathe out. “I trust you.” Minho pressed his lips to yours once more as the fleshy appendage under your shorts pulled, starting to slide your shorts down.

Minho pulled back for only a moment to take the shorts in his hands and toss them aside before leaning back in to kiss you.

Your body shuddered as you felt the same appendage press against your panties, slowly rubbing.

Minho’s lips left yours, kissing down the side of your neck, nipping occasionally. “What is that?” you whispered, holding back a moan as Minho suckled on the skin at the base of your neck. “Promise me you won’t scream?” he asked, looking up as his hands moved under your shirt, pushing the material up towards your chest.

You nodded, glancing down at him. He sat up straight and you could see his pants were undone and two long pale pink colored tentacles had emerged. You stared in awe at them as they wriggled, one resting at your core, the other staying close to home.

You glanced up to meet Minho’s gaze. “Can I… touch them?”

He nodded, watching as you sat up, reaching out one of your hands and carefully touching the tentacle that was currently not pressed against your panties. Minho shuddered at the touch and you pulled back only for him to grab your wrist and guide your hand back.

“It’s okay,” he reiterated. “It doesn’t hurt.”

You cautiously stroked the tentacle, noticing how Minho’s body reacted when you did.

“Is this— are these,” you asked, nodding towards the tentacles. “Your… you know?”

Minho smirked, leaning in until he was inches from your face. “Are they my what?” he asked in a playfully dark tone. You swallowed thickly. “Are they your…” you glanced down at the tentacles and then back up to meet his gaze.

“Your cock?”

At the mention of the word cock, Minho let out a growl, his hand grabbing the back of your neck and pulling you into a heated kiss, a clash of teeth and tongue as both tentacles slipped under your panties and your ears were greeted by the sound of cloth ripping.

You whined as Minho pulled back. “That was my favorite pair!”

He chuckled against your cheek, peppering kisses down to your jaw. “I’m sorry, darling,” he cooed. You opened your mouth to retort but let out a shaky moan as you felt the tip of one of the tentacles rubbing against your slick entrance.

“Seems like you’re already properly lubricated,” he mused, watching your face as he teased your hole, prodding gently with the tip of the appendage. “You really want this?” he asked, tilting his head to the side. You nodded quickly. “Yes,” you gasped. “Please.”

Not needing to be told twice, you moaned as the tentacle pushed into you, your warm walls welcoming it with a firm squeeze. Minho let out a choked moan, pushing the tentacle further into you. “Oh fuck,” you heard him curse.

Hearing the word come from him made you laugh weakly. “What’s so funny?” he asked, the tentacle stilling inside you. “I’ve always wanted to ask,” you started, glancing up at him. “Where did you learn English?” you asked him. Minho smiled, chuckling at the question.

“I learned it from watching Friends,” he admitted. You stared at him incredulously. “Wait, seriously?” He nodded with a smirk. “You’d be surprised at the kind of reception we get out on Ninsa,” he said with a wink. Before you could respond, the tentacle started moving again, gliding against your walls with little restriction.

“F-fuck,” you groaned, back arching off the bed as he set a steady pace. “You like how that feels?” he asked softly, watching your expression. “Yes,” you whined. Minho chuckled, guiding the second tentacle to join the first. He misjudged his aim and found himself pressing against something else entirely.

You gasped, eyes snapping open. “W-wait a second!” you stammered. Minho stopped, watching as you propped yourself up on your elbows. “Can you pull it out for a second?” you asked softly. Minho nodded, withdrawing the tentacle and watching as you carefully sat up.

“If you want to put it in there, it’s better if I’m positioned like this,” you said, turning away from him to lean over, presenting your back end to him. Minho was getting a full view of your glistening sex and the smell nearly sent him into a frenzy.

Instead, he managed to keep his composure and got to his knees, quickly removing his shirt and tossing it aside. The first tentacle resumed, pushing into your cunt, making you groan, your head falling into your pillows. He took your hips gently in his hands, staring at the smaller hole. He knew what this was. He had one too. It was where excrement came out.

He also knew that some people, even his own species, enjoyed having this hole stimulated during intercourse. With that knowledge in hand, he guided the tip of the other tentacle to this hole, slowly rubbing the tip against it and smearing the natural lubricant that his tentacles produced against your skin and the appendage.

You lifted your head quickly. “Just… go slow, please,” you said softly. Minho leaned over, pressing a kiss to your shoulder as he pushed the tip into your hole. Your body tensed up slightly at the intrusion but a few gentle kisses and soothing words had you relaxing under Minho, allowing the tentacle to push further into your anus.

“F-fuck,” you groaned. “Feels so f-full.”

Minho felt a chill run up his spine as he started to move both tentacles moving in tandem. Your head fell into the pillows as you let out another long, low moan. Minho chuckled lightly. “What?” he asked, taking your hips in his hands. “Does that feel good?”

You nodded fervently, your moans increasing in volume with each thrust.

“Don’t stop,” you whined. “M’gonna cum.”

Despite your plea for him to keep going, Minho stopped, pulling both tentacles back until they withdrew into his pants. “What the hell, Minho?” you snapped, turning back to look at him. He simply smiled, pushing his pants down and discarding them.

Your eyes followed down his body until you caught sight of what he’d been hiding the whole time.

“Oh holy shit,” you gasped.

By his species’ standards, Minho was average at best. He’d never been commended for the size of his cock but he’d been complimented on how well he used it. He was aware, however, that the average size for a human was not the same as the average size for a Ninsan.

From your perspective, this alien was about to shove his whole nine inch long alien cock inside you. “Th-that’s not gonna fit,” you whimpered. Minho leaned over your back, pressing a tender kiss to your shoulder. “Just lie back for me,” he murmured, leaning back up as you turned back to face him, lying back against the pillows.

Minho hooked his arms under your knees and pulled you closer. “It’s really not gonna fit,” you protested. Minho took his cock in his hand and slapped it against your clit, making you jump and cry out. “Don’t argue with me,” he said sternly.

You fell silent as he looked down at you. His hand moved to your sex, fingers gathering your arousal before he pushed two fingers into your cunt. You let out a whine as he curled them, watching the way your face contorted. “That’s it,” he murmured as he continued to alternate between curling and pumping his fingers. “That’s it, baby,” he grunted, his fingers moving faster.

“Minho,” you whimpered, moving your hand to the back of his neck and pulling him down into a kiss. With your attention temporarily redirected, Minho pulled his fingers from your heat, taking his length in his hand and guiding the tip to your entrance and pushing into you.

You moaned into his mouth, a dull sting making you tense up.

“Shhh,” he murmured against your lips, one hand moving up to cup your cheek, using his thumb to brush away one of the tears that had formed. “It’s okay,” he added softly. “S’too big,” you whimpered. Minho took your lips in a tender kiss. “I know,” he murmured against your lips. “But you can take it, can’t you? Are you going to be good for me?”

A shudder ran up your spine before you nodded. “Y-yes,” you whined. You let out another moan as Minho pushed further into your walls, groaning as the warmth enveloped him. He’d never experienced such a tight fit before and it was making his head throb as his heart hammered in his chest.

“Fuck,” he growled, pushing further into you, holding you against the mattress as his cock stretched you open. “Shit,” he hissed. “That’s it,” he repeated. “Almost there.”

You let out a mix between a sob and a whimper. Minho leaned in, pressing soft kisses to your cheeks and nose. “So close,” he muttered. “Almost there, baby.”

The pet name had your stomach doing flips and your heart fluttering. Finally, Minho seemed to stop moving and you let out a shaky breath. “Is it… are you…?” your words failed as your cheeks burned hot. “Yes,” Minho said softly, stroking your cheek tenderly. “It’s all the way in.”

As if to punctuate his sentence, Minho pulled out and gave you a tentative thrust, head falling into the crook of your neck with a low groan as you let out a high pitched moan, back arching off the bed. “It’s taking every ounce of strength I have not to start pounding into you,” he said, his voice strained in your ear. You moaned again, walls clenching around his cock.

“Oh fuck. Keep doing that and I’ll lose my mind,” he growled.

You focused on relaxing, allowing the stinging stretch to dissipate. Minho coaxed you through it, leaving soft kisses on your face and against your lips, your neck, your collar as he whispered words of encouragement. 

“You’re doing so well,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper. You let out a gasp as he gave another testing thrust. “Does that hurt?” he asked softly. You shook your head, drawing your bottom lip between your teeth as he gave another. “N-no,” you stammered, shaking your head.

“Does it feel good?” he asked, his voice still low. You nodded quickly. Minho took that as a sign to keep going, setting a steady pace, growling as your walls gripped him so tightly, as if you didn’t want him to leave. “How are you so tight? It’s so warm,” he muttered, eyes fluttering shut as he tried to focus on the feeling of your warm walls completely surrounding his thick, heavy cock.

He moved his hips harder, hitting your ass with each snap. “S-shit!”

“D-don’t stop,” you moaned, fingers curling into the sheets as Minho’s face buried into your neck. “F-fuck,” he stammered. “You’re doing so well,” he grunted, his voice muffled against your skin. “Doing so well, baby. Taking me so deep.” 

You whimpered, the sound of skin hitting skin filling the room with each frantic thrust. You could feel the tip of his cock so deep. Further than you’d ever felt before.

“M’close,” you gasped, one of your hands moving up to his hair, fingers tangling in his hair. “Yeah? You gonna be a good girl and cum for me?” he whispered in your ear, his breath hot against your skin. “Yes,” you moaned, ignoring the way the bed creaked under your bodies.

“Then do it,” Minho groaned as your walls clenched around him. “Cum for me.”

Your moans reached a high pitch, each thrust pushing you closer and closer until you finally came with a cry, tumbling over the edge. Your grip on the sheets and Minho’s hair tightened, your toes curling in tandem with your fingers as you rode out your high. 

Minho lifted his head, one hand moving to grab yours and untangle your fingers from his hair and lacing his fingers with yours as he pinned your hand against the pillow. “Look at me,” he ordered. Your eyes fluttered open, looking into his bright purple irises. ‘Sexual arousal,’ your brain finally said in your post nut clarity. ‘That’s what purple means.’

Minho’s hips stuttered as a low moan spilled from his lips as he finally came, releasing into you with three more thrusts until he stilled, burying his cock as far into you as he could. Your chest rose and fell with each breath as you stared up at him. He held your gaze until his eyes finally slid shut and he collapsed on top of you, burying his face in the crook of your neck.

You listened to your own pounding heart as it started to slow, your breathing starting to return to normal as Minho also tried to regain his ability to breathe. “Are you okay?” you finally heard him ask, lips brushing against your skin.

Licking your lips, you spoke, internally cringing at the hoarse sound of your own voice.

“Yeah,” you replied. “I’m okay,” you answered. Minho let out a huff against your skin, the short blast of air against your sweat covered skin sending a slight chill down your spine. “Are you okay?” you asked, noticing he had yet to move. He nodded, burying his face further into your skin.

“Mhm,” he hummed. “It’s a normal custom to stay like this for a while after intercourse,” he added. Your cheeks burned slightly but you welcomed his hold as he kept a firm hold on your hand, his other arm managing to snake between your back and the sheets.

It was much different than the aftercare you’d experienced. “Post sex cuddles,” you murmured, making Minho raise his head slightly. “What?” he asked softly. “Post sex cuddles,” you repeated. “That’s what I’ve heard them called before,” you added. Minho hummed softly before hiding his face in your neck again.

You stayed like that for much longer than you cared to count but as you were starting to fall asleep, Minho started to shuffle, pushing himself up to look down at you. His eyes had shifted from the purple to rainbow again. Upon seeing your face, specifically your eyes, looking back up at him, his irises flashed pinked before a smile spread across your face.

The moment your lips curled into a grin, the pink was replaced with a beautiful golden honey color. You reached up your free hand to cup his cheek. “Joy,” you said softly as he leaned into your touch, his eyes fluttering shut. When they opened again, they were still gold. “You must be really happy,” you commented. Minho leaned down, taking your lips in a tender kiss. “I am,” he murmured.

“I’m very happy. You make me very happy.”

You couldn’t help the smile that spread across your face this time as you freed the hand he held and wrapped both arms around his neck to pull him down into a hug. “You make me happy, too,” you whispered. You felt a vibrating rumble from Minho’s chest. “Are you purring?” you asked softly.

He nodded, pressing a kiss to your cheek. “I am,” he whispered. You tightened your hold on him.

“You’re so cute.” 

Minho whined, hiding his face in your shoulder. “I’m not cute,” he pouted. You pushed him back, taking his face in your hands. His eyes had turned pink again. “You’re very cute,” you cooed, pressing a kiss to his nose. “But you’re also handsome,” you added, kissing his cheek. “And very, very sexy,” you concluded, punctuating your statement with a kiss.

Minho melted into the kiss, pressing his lips against yours with the same affection. “We should get cleaned up,” he murmured. “You’re full of cum,” he added. Your eyes snapped open. “Oh shit, you’re right,” you said as he sat up, his cock having already softened and slipped out of you.

He glanced down between your thighs and tsked, shaking his head slightly. “I’m gonna need clean sheets, too,” he murmured before getting up and walking over to the bathroom. “Stay right there,” he called as he disappeared. You propped yourself up and peered down, eyes widening at the sight of a deep eggplant purple colored liquid.

Minho returned with a towel and started to wipe your skin. “Is your cum purple?” you asked, sounding amazed. Minho looked up at you, perplexed by your question. “Yes?” he asked, not understanding why you sounded so shocked. “Is yours not?” he asked. You shook your head.

“Human cum is whitish,” you answered. It was his turned to looked shocked and confused. “White?” he asked incredulously. You nodded quickly as he finished wiping your skin and held out his hand. “Weird,” he murmured as he helped you up, guiding you to the bathroom, making sure you made it on shaky legs.

“I’ll join you in a second,” he murmured, leaning forward to press a chaste kiss to your cheek. “I’m gonna pull the sheets before they stain.” You nodded, starting the shower and getting in as he disappeared. He was only gone for a few moments before returning. You stepped aside as he stepped into the shower behind you. “The sheets are already compromised,” he said, pressing a kiss to your shoulder before you turned to face him, your hands moving up his chest to his shoulders.

He leaned in, kissing you gently. “But the mattress is fine,” he added. You said nothing as he continued to kiss you under the stream of hot water. “I’ll come up with an excuse for the sheets,” you murmured when he finally pulled back. “I’m sure my mom won’t care that much,” you added.

“Just forward me the bill,” he joked, hands moving to your waist and pulling you closer, smiling as he kissed you. You moaned as his hands wandered. “Again?” you asked as his lips moved down the side of your neck and he backed you against the shower wall. “My energy replenishes fast,” he murmured, nipping and sucking the skin at the base of your neck.

“You don’t have to do anything,” he added. “Just turn around,” he added, using his hands to guide you to face the shower wall. “You’re insatiable,” you chuckled as you felt his already hard cock press against your back. “I know,” he retorted, taking himself in his hand and guiding the tip to your entrance again.

“I promise this is the last time,” he sighed as he started to sink into your heat, making your groan against the tile.

“For tonight anyway.”

Another day passed by with Minho working on his ship. He’d managed to put the console back together, even enlisting your help inside. You mostly helped hold things in place or hold tools while he talked about his life growing up on Ninsa. You listened with extreme fascination to his stories.

His life wasn’t much different than yours; only he grew up in a massive city but he still went to school, attended university, and went out with friends. He took vacations with his family, visited them for holidays, and even dated. It was almost as if he was human but you still noticed subtle differences that reminded you that he was an alien.

You pushed aside the door, walking into the barn with Jake on your heels as Minho worked under the ship. “Wow,” you heard Jake breathe as you walked over to the work table, setting down Minho’s lunch and some water. Today you’d made him some soup as it was a much colder day than before.

Minho shut the panel under the ship and wiped his hands on the rag he had tucked in his pocket and walked over, smiling at you as he hopped up onto the work table and picked up the bowl. “Smells delicious,” he said before digging in. You leaned against the table, watching as your best friend started to walk around the ship. “It looks like it’s done,” Jake noted, a hopeful tone in his voice.

Minho shook his head, swallowing the bite of food. “I’ve run all the diagnostics,” he started to explain, more to you than to Jake. “Everything is almost done but I’m missing a part,” he explained. Your eyes widened. “Oh no,” you said softly. “Is that… bad?” you asked. He nodded, swallowing another bite of soup. “It’s a crucial part,” he explained. “It allows fuel to reach the thrusters. Without it, I can’t even fire up the thrusters,” he explained.

“What, like a fuel injector?” Jake asked with a scoff. Minho nodded, looking at him. “Actually, yes,” he answered. Jake turned to look at Minho. “Wait, you’re serious?” Minho nodded again.

“Yes. That’s all I need. The valve spring in one of mine broke and the spray tip was crushed. I need a new injector.”

Jake looked from the ship to Minho. “Would a car fuel injector work?” he asked. Minho shrugged. “It might,” he answered. “What does yours look like?” Jake asked, tucking his hands in his jeans pockets. Minho set his bowl aside and got up, walking over to the ship and climbed inside.

A few moments later, he reappeared, dropping down to the ground and walked over to Jake, handing him the part. Jake inspected it closely before handing it back. “Looks like a JTS Jet Thrust Stoichiometric injector,” Jake said and you were thankful your friend was into cars.

Minho nodded and looked up. “Where can I find one?” he asked and Jake shrugged his shoulders. “I’m not sure. The cars these were made for don’t exist anymore.” You slumped in your spot. “So the auto shop won’t have any?” you asked, drawing both their attention. Jake shook his head. “No,” he answered. “Definitely not. These were manufactured for the Alfa Romeo JTS engines from the early 2000’s. Those car’s aren’t in production anymore.”

Minho looked down at the part and sighed. Jake’s eyes lit up. “But the junkyard might have one,” he said suddenly. You and Minho both looked up as Jake pointed at you. “Remember last month when I got all excited about the Spider that was brought into the junkyard but Jim said it wasn’t for sale!” You nodded, vaguely remembering the conversation.

“That car will have these. It should have four of them!”

Your face split into a smile as you looked at Minho. “Up for a visit to a junkyard?” you asked.

Minho’s lips curled into a grin. “Oh absolutely,” he replied.

Knowing the owner of the scrap yard wasn’t going to just hand over the part, Jake decided the best option would be to sneak into the junkyard at night and take the necessary part. You had asked if that was going to get you in trouble since you were breaking in and stealing but Jake merely smirked as he shrugged. ‘Only if you get caught,’ he’d said.

So later that night, dressed in all black, the three of you got into Jake’s jeep and drove out to the edge of Derrey where the junkyard stood.

Minho had brought a couple tools to remove the part from the car and Jake came with the wire cutters. You felt uneasy about this but once you were at the fence, there was no going back. Jake led the way around the outside perimeter of the fence to the spot he knew would be closest to the car.

Jake cut the fence and pulled it back, allowing Minho in first, with you following and finally, he slipped into the gap and started to lead the way, your path taking you behind large piles of old rusted cars and tons of scraps, old tires and more.

It only took a few minutes to reach the car. It was a pretty candy apple red but had definitely seen better days. The pain was chipped in parts and the exposed metal was rusted. The leather seats were torn with the stuffing falling out into the seats.

“What happened to this thing?” you whispered as Jake and Minho moved towards the hood. Jake managed to find the latch and open the hood, pushing it up and lifting the holder. You looked around nervously and turned to watch as Jake produced a small flashlight and pointed it to the engine. “Okay,” he said, taking one of the tools from Minho. “Right here. Undo this part.”

You kept glancing around, feeling as if you were being watched but saw nothing while Jake and Minho worked to unhook the fuel injector system. Once it was undone and the cover removed, Jake looked down at the four injectors and smiled, looking up at Minho who smiled back. Jake handed the injectors to Minho and started to lower the hood. “Alright,” he whispered, carefully shutting it.

“Time to go.”

You had only taken a few steps when a flood light turned on, illuminating the yard. “Shit,” Jake hissed. “It’s Jim! Go, go!” he motioned for you to move. Minho moved around the car, taking your hand instinctively and pulling you along as he followed Jake’s movements. The three of you ducked behind an old rusted Chevy, listening as footsteps walked past your hiding place.

“Come on!” Jake mouthed and waved you to follow. You snuck out from behind the truck and started heading for the fence when another flood light turned on illuminating the area you were in. “Fuck, go!” Jake yelled, taking off. Minho tightened his hold on your hand and pulled you along, running quickly as he tried to follow Jake’s path. Jake managed to reach the fence and jumped, climbing over it and landing not so gracefully on the other side.

Minho turned to look at you. “I can’t climb that!” you said, panic in your voice.

A loud yell in the distance followed by barking upped your panic and Minho cursed softly, grabbing your hand and pulling you along. “Here!” Jake called, running outside the fence and leading you both to the break in the fence. You reached it but before Minho could pull it open, the dogs, two doberman pinschers, had caught up and one of them made a lunge for you.

Minho blocked the dog with his body, letting out a growl of pain as the dog’s teeth dug into his leg just above his knee. Jake managed to pry open the fence and Minho shoved you through the gap as he managed to shake the dog off and kick it away. Before either dog could take another lunge, Minho fell through the gap and Jake let the fence snap shut.

You grabbed his arm and helped him up, the three of you running from the fence as the dogs barked ferociously but trapped inside the fencing. You helped Minho hobble back to the Jeep and helped him into the passenger seat as Jake started the engine and you hopped into the back.

Jake stepped on the gas, driving back towards town, cutting through to head back to your farm. He let out a laugh, mostly out of disbelief that you managed to get away. “Holy shit,” he yelled over the sound of the wind whipping. “Talk about a rush!”

You leaned over the center console to look at Minho. “Are you okay?” you asked and he nodded weakly. “I’m fine,” he said through gritted teeth. You could tell by his face, he was certainly not okay and you would look at his leg when you got back.

The drive to your house didn’t take long and Jake only pulled into drive when he was sure you weren’t being followed. Once he pulled up to the front porch, you hopped out as Minho opened the door. He tried to climb out but as soon as his foot hit the ground, he collapsed, screaming in pain.

You rushed to his side as he rolled over. Jake climbed out and walked over. “What happened?” Jake asked. “He got bit,” you said softly as you inspected his leg. “Help me get him inside.”

Jake knelt down, helping pick Minho up off the ground and slinging one arm over his shoulder as he helped walk Minho to the door. You unlocked it and held the door open as Jake guided Minho inside and to the living room. Minho grunted as Jake plopped him onto the couch.

“How did he get bit? What were you thinking?” Jake chastised Minho as you grabbed the first aid from the closet and returned to Minho’s side, flipping on the lights and starting to open the case.

“Stop yelling at him,” you said as you put the gloves on and grabbed a pair of scissors to cut open the jeans. “Those are my brother’s!” Jake yelled as you cut the pant leg of the jeans up to the knee. “I’ll replace them,” you said as you inspected the bite wound.

Jake ran his fingers through his hair as you worked to clean the wound and inspect the damage.

“What were you thinking, getting bit by one of those mutts?!”

Minho stared up at Jake, his eyes flashing between red and orange. ‘Orange? That’s new.’

“If I hadn’t taken the bite, it would be Y/N sitting on this couch instead of me,” Minho said angrily, his eyes finally settling on red. You sat up and turned to Jake. “Stop antagonizing him! I need him to be calm and still so I can clean this,” you snapped. “I don’t need you yelling at him and making things worse. If you can’t be helpful then you can just leave!”

You pointed towards the door. It was the second time you were kicking your best friend out but your priority right now was making sure Minho was okay. Jake scoffed and moved to the door. “Fine,” he snapped, ripping open the door and turning to look at you. “Tell me when the thing leaves. I’m not coming back until then.” He stepped out, slamming the door behind him.

You got up and followed, yanking the door open and stepping out onto the porch. “Don’t you dare slam my fucking doors, Jacob Willowby!” you shouted as you followed him off the porch. Jake rounded on you. “It’s like I’m not even your friend anymore!” he shouted. “Ever since that thing showed up, you’ve done nothing but give me the boot. You’re choosing some alien over me!”

“He’s not just some alien!” you yelled back, the corners of your eyes burning. “He’s my friend, too!”

Jake stared at you incredulously. “He’s an alien, Y/N!” he shouted. You raised your hands up, shrugging. “So? You’re an asshole and I’m still friends with you!” you retorted. “He’s. Not. HUMAN!!!” Jake shouted again. The commotion had caused Minho to get up and limp over to the door.

“That doesn’t make him any less of a person!” you shouted back at your best friend.

“What is your obsession with him?” Jake snapped. “It’s like you’re in love with him or something!”

You fell silent, staring at your best friend, watching his expression shift from anger to confusion as the realization hit him. “Oh my god,” he whispered. “You’re in love with him?” he asked, spitting out the word as if it was disgusting to him. “With him? You’re sick, Y/N,” Jake said, laughing incredulously.

“He’s an alien. He’s not human. It’s not like you could ever be together.”

Again you said nothing, images from the other night coming to your mind. Jake took your silence as some kind of omission and he choked back a laugh. “No fucking way,” he whispered. “Did…” his words failed him. “Did you have sex with him?”

You looked up, meeting your best friend’s gaze. You didn’t say anything but you didn’t need to. He could tell by the look on your face what the answer was. His eyes flickered behind you, anger taking over his features. “You son of a bitch!” he shouted, pushing past you and making a beeline for Minho who stood on the porch.

“Jake, stop!” you called as Jake stormed up the steps, towering over Minho, drawing back a fist. “Stop!” you screamed. Jake didn’t have a chance to land a blow on Minho before he was knocked backwards and tumbled down the steps. Minho took a step forward.

His eyes were blood red, a red aura emitting from him as he stalked forward, down the steps toward your best friend. “Stop please!” you cried out, moving forward. Jake tried to stop you but you dodged his attempt to grab you and moved to stand in front of Minho, reaching up to take his face in your hands.

“Minho,” you said softly. “Minho, baby please, look at me.”

Your voice seemed to snap him out of it and his eyes faded from the red to a white before settling back on their normal rainbow hue. You smiled, blinking back tears. “There you are,” you said softly. Minho’s arms went around you protectively.

Jake watched in a mixture of shock and horror that slowly gave way to anger as he got up. “Are you really picking him over me?” he yelled. You pulled back and turned to look at your best friend. “Jake,” you started but he interrupted you.

“No,” he snapped. “You need to think long and carefully about this Y/N,” Jake continued. “Are you really going to pick an alien over your best friend? Someone you’ve known since you were a child? Someone who’s been by your side this whole time, waiting for you to notice them?”

Your eyes widened as you realized the meaning behind Jake’s words.

“Are you seriously trying to confess right now?” you asked. Instead of sounding shocked or whatever Jake had been hoping for, you were livid. “You are so selfish!” you shouted, turning to face Jake who gaped at you like a fish. “Selfish? Me? I’m the selfish one? You were going to leave!”

You scoffed. “I was going to follow my dreams and get out of this place!” How dare he try to sell you as the selfish one when you’ve been living the life everyone has expected you to live and not the one you wanted to live. “I’m taking steps to live the life I want, not what’s forced on me. Everyone is trying to force me into a box and keep me from doing something great with my life. My parents, you, this whole fucking town!” you screamed, tears welling up in your eyes.

“I just want something bigger. Something better,” you added. You felt Minho’s hand take yours, comfortingly. “Why isn’t this place good enough for you?” Jake asked. “Why aren’t I good enough for you?” You shook your head. “It’s that thing’s fault.” Jake accused, pointing at Minho.

You shook your head. “No,” you answered.

“Even if Minho hadn’t shown up, we never would have worked. I don’t feel that way about you Jake. I never have.”

Your words must have been the final nail in the coffin for Jake. The hurt look on his face dissipated into a look of resolve. “Fine,” he spat. “Fuck you, Y/N,” he added, turning and heading for his Jeep. 

You pushed Minho back towards the steps, climbing them quickly as Jake put the car in reverse and backed up, tires digging into the ground. “You’re gonna regret ever coming here,” Jake shouted, pointing at Minho from the window of his car before throwing the car in drive and tearing out of the yard, his tires spitting up dirt as he floored it.

You turned to look at Minho who looked at you. “Your leg,” you suddenly said but Minho stopped you. “It doesn’t hurt anymore,” he murmured. You glanced down and back up. “Let me at least look at it, okay?”

Minho allowed you to guide him back into the house and sat at the kitchen island as you looked as his leg. The bleeding had stopped but you cleaned and bandaged it all the same. Minho headed upstairs to change his clothes before coming back down. “I’m gonna put that part in the ship,” he called and you nodded as you cleaned up the dishes.

He walked over, resting his chin on your shoulder, resting his hands on your hips. You smiled as he pressed a kiss to your shoulder before lifting his head and speaking into your ear. “Come with me,” he muttered. You smiled, letting out a chuckle as you sprayed down the sink and removed the gloves.

“Well, now that the dishes are done, I guess I could accompany you to the barn,” you replied, wrapping your arms around his neck and pulling him in for a kiss. Minho broke apart, pushing you back. “No,” he said softly. “Come with me.”

You stared into his eyes until it hit you just what he was suggesting.

“You mean, leave Earth?” you asked. He nodded. “Yes,” he said, one hand moving to cup your cheek. “Come with me, baby,” he murmured, leaning in to kiss your lips. You melted into his embrace before pulling back. “But what about school? My family?”

Minho caressed your cheek slowly. “If you don’t like it, I can always bring you back,” he offered, a smile spreading slowly across his face. “Though,” he added. “I don’t think you’ll want to come back. Traveling with me? Seeing the universe?” he asked. You worried your bottom lip between your teeth.

“See the universe?” you asked, a grin slowly spreading across your face. “And Ninsa?” Minho nodded, slowly swaying you on the spot. “It’s rash,” you said, shaking your head. “It’s irresponsible,” you continued as Minho leaned in to kiss you.

“I’m not hearing a no,” he whispered, lips inches from yours. You closed the distance, kissing him passionately. “Yes,” you finally said, pulling back to look up just in time to see the rainbow irises change to gold. “Yes?” he asked. You nodded, giggling when he pulled you into a tight hug, spinning you.

“I need to pack,” you said softly. “Just bring some basics,” he said as you let go and made for the stairs. Minho chuckled as he watched before heading out the door. 

He made his way to the barn, glancing up at the cloudless night sky. 

Minho climbed up into the ship, moving to sit in his chair and flipped two switches to turn Stan on. The main screen flickered on, the familiar star logo appearing in the middle of the screen before the computer started booting up.

After a couple moments, the screen turned green and a smiley face appeared in the center. “Hello, Minho,” Stan greeted him, a smile spreading across Minho’s face. “Haha!” he laughed triumphantly. "Stan!" Minho said excitedly. "Boy, am I glad to hear your voice," he continued. “Happy to be back, Minho,” the female AI voice said. 

“I need you to run full diagnostics of the ship as well as chart a course out of Sol III's atmosphere,” Minho instructed. “Certainly,” Stan replied. “Where would you like to go?”

Minho thought for a moment before an idea hit him. “Sol IV.”

You looked through your closet pulling out some basic clothing. Minho had said to grab the basics only so you couldn't pack everything. You pulled out some leggings, sweatshirts, tee-shirt, shorts, as well as underwear and socks.

You quickly rolled and packed everything before moving to grab some shoes and place them in your bag. You rushed into your bathroom, grabbing your toothbrush, toothpaste, and other toiletries, throwing them in the bag as well. You grabbed your phone before hesitating. Would it even work??

Deciding you could at least use it to look at pictures and take pictures, you threw it and your charger in your bag before finally zipping it shut and picking it up.

You rushed down the stairs, dropping the duffle bag by the front door before heading to the kitchen, grabbing a pen and the pad of paper that hung on the fridge by a magnet. 

You hastily scribbled a message to your parents, letting them know you were safe and that you were traveling with a friend. You placed the pad back on the fridge and ran to the front door, stopping to grab your bag and step out onto the porch. 

As you reached the top of the steps, you heard the sound of vehicles approaching and looked up to see a line of cars driving down the road. At the front was an all too familiar Jeep.

‘No,’ you thought, dropping the bag on your porch and bounding down the stairs, making for the barn. You pulled the door shut behind you and turned the light off as Minho was dropping out of the door. “Hey,” he called as you ran to him. 

“I’ve calibrated the navigational system and Stan has run full diagnostics on the ship. We are ready to go and you're not gonna believe where we're going first,” he said, grinning as you stopped, grabbing his arms. “You need to go,” you said breathlessly. 

Minho's smile faltered slightly. “Well, the ship's ready,” he replied. “We can go as soon as you're ready.” You shook your head. “I can’t go,” you started. The remnants of Minho’s smile vanished.

“What are you talking about? Did you change your mind? If so, baby-”

“Jake’s back and it looks like he's brought the whole town with him,” you interrupted, watching Minho's eyes turn white. “Then we need to go now,” Minho said, grabbing your hand and starting to lead you to the ship, looking back when you pulled from his grip. 

“I can’t go,” you repeated, feeling your heart starting to crack. Minho hurried back over to you, taking your face in his hands. “Yes you can,” he said softly. You shook your head. “I have to stall them,” you explained, fighting back tears.

Minho shook his head. “No,” he said firmly. You took his hand, pulling them from your face. “Minho,” you started calmly. He shook his head again, his eyes flashing gray before settling back into rainbow. “No,” he said again. “I’m not leaving without you!”

You moved your hands, wrapping your arms around his neck and pulling him into a hug. “It’s okay,” you whispered as his arms snaked around your waist, his face burying into your neck. 

“It’s going to be okay,” you said softly, running your fingers through his hair. “I’ll be okay.”

Minho's hold on you tightened. “I don’t want to say goodbye,” he murmured. You were the first to pull back, forcing Minho to meet your gaze. His eyes had changed to a deep sapphire blue. You reached up to cup his cheek. 

“What does this color mean?” you asked softly, noticing the way Minho tried to blink away his own tears. “It’s the color our eyes change to when our hearts break,” he said quietly. You tried to ignore the heavy feeling in your chest as you fought back tears. 

“I’m so sorry,” you whispered. Minho offered a weak smile, removing your hand from his cheek before leaning in, pressing his lips to yours. “Don’t apologize,” he whispered.

“I’d rather have met you and experienced all this than not have met you at all,” he said with a smile despite the tears in his eyes. You pulled him back into another kiss, pouring as much emotion into it as you could muster.

Neither of you wanted to be the one to pull away until you needed to breathe, Minho resting his forehead against yours as you both tried to catch your breaths. 

You needed him to know. Know that you’d never met someone like him. Know that your life had changed forever the night he came crashing into it, literally. Know that no matter what, you’d never forget him. You needed him to know how you felt.

“I love you,” you whispered, eyes shut tight.

Minho let out a soft chuckle. “You can’t say things like that and expect I’ll leave you behind,” he said, his voice cracking. You kissed him softly. “You have to,” you repeated. He nodded, pulling back to look at you, his eyes a bright pink, different from the pink you'd seen when he was embarrassed. 

“What's this one?” you asked, looking into his almost neon pink irises. He reached up, caressing your cheek before answering. 

“Love,” he said softly. “It’s love.”

The sound of engines outside the barn brought you back to reality. Minho looked towards the door before looking back down to meet your gaze. “I will come back for you,” he said, taking your face in his hands. “I promise.”

He gave you one final kiss before moving to the ship as you ran to the door. You looked back to find him looking back at you, the both of you holding each other's gaze until you finally looked away to open the barn door and step outside. 

In your yard were about ten cars, the occupants shutting off their engines and stepping out. Jake was leading the group as you walked to meet them. You stopped before Jake who stared you down. “Move, Y/N,” he said. You stood your ground. 

“He’s gone, Jake,” you said plainly. Your now ex best friend scoffed.

“Don’t think you can lie to me,  Y/N,” he started. “Just step aside and let us deal with it,” he continued. You shook your head. “No,” you snapped back. “You’re all trespassing,” you called out.

“Do you really want me to call the police and have you removed?” you continued. Jake scoffed, rolling his eyes. "Go ahead, call them," he laughed. “I’m sure they’d love to see what’s in that barn.”

You pulled your phone out and unlocked the screen. “There’s nothing in the barn,” you said as you pressed the 9 on your dial pad. You pressed the one and looked up to meet Jake’s gaze as the ground started to shake, a deep rumbling sending vibrations rolling through the grass. 

A bright light shone out from under the barn doors as Jake and the other townspeople looked on in shock. You pressed the one again and just as you did, several of the people in the crowd screamed as a loud crash sounded from behind you. 

Wood splintered as Minho’s ship tore through the roof of the barn, rising up above the structure, lights illuminating the crowd. You turned to look up at the ship as it hovered before it finally turned and shot off into the night, becoming a faint glow until it ultimately disappeared. 

That night, more than forty people called into the Derrey police station, claiming to have seen some kind of spacecraft crash through your family’s old barn. It was the talk of the town until some other scandal took its place and eventually people stopped talking about it.

You decided to finish the year at your town's local university before transferring to Columbia University, packing up and moving to the East Coast. You loved living in the big city, finding it a massive improvement over Derrey. 

You went back home during the holidays and while you saw Jake in town, your friendship with him ended completely the night he led an angry mob to your house against your alien boyfriend. 

The only thing you missed about home was the sky.

In New York, you were lucky if you saw any stars, especially on campus. Thankfully, you happened to find a nice place just a thirty minute drive from campus where you could go and see more stars than you'd see in the city. 

You’d just finished an exhausting week off work at the zoo and decided to treat yourself with some ice coffee and a drive out to your favorite stargazing location. 

Summer was coming to a close and fall was on the horizon, a chill in the air each night. You were sitting on the hood of your car, looking up at the starry sky, thinking about the last three years of your life. 

Three years since you said goodbye to Minho. 

As you were staring at the sky, you noticed what seemed to be a meteor and sat up, focusing in on it. It was flying across the sky but suddenly, it changed direction and seemed to be heading your way. 

A smile slowly spread across your lips as you slid off the hood of your car and watched as the object sailed overhead and headed for the valley behind the hill your car was parked on. 

You shook your head as you walked around to the driver’s side,  unlocking the door and getting in. You started the vehicle and backed up, turning around and following the dirt road down the hill carefully until you reached the base and started driving into the field. 

As you looked around a bright light suddenly illuminated the field and you slammed on the break, parking the car and looking through your windshield as the craft you spotted before started to descend. 

You turned off the engine and opened the door, ignoring the wind as the ship carefully set itself down and powered down. You shut the door and walked around to the front of your car, crossing your arms as you leaned against the hood. 

You watched as a door opened, light from inside the craft spilling onto the grass. A shadowy figure emerged, walking from the doorway and stopping on the grass, facing you. 

Neither one of you moved for a moment and it was silent. 

Finally you spoke up.

“Took you long enough!” you called. The figure started a brisk walk into the field as you stood up and started walking towards them. 

You weren’t sure who was first but you both broke into a run, colliding with each other, where you threw your arms around his neck as his arms went around your waist, face burying in your neck.

Finally they pulled back and you smiled, looking into those familiar rainbow eyes as they flashed gold. “In my defense,” Minho started. 

“You moved and didn't leave a forwarding address.”

ⓘ Graphics made by me. Content and support banners made using a template by cafekitsune. I do not allow reposts, translations, or continuations of my works. All writing and graphics are ©️ kwanisms.

[sweets3rial]

i wanted it to be you.

ch. 1 // ch. 2

di!leon x fem!reader

summary: you wanted it to be him. he wanted it to be you. though, life is unfair. you don't always get what you want.

tags: much angst, some comfort, pining, talks about the past, talks about past relationships, flashbacks, ex-bf lsk, engagement/marriage, cheating/infidelity, affair, smut, car sex, p-in-v, unprotected sex, fingering, mating press, creampie, slow and sensual (?), regret, and even more sadness.

warnings: cheating on spouse (not cheating on leon and leon not cheating on reader)

word count: 7.5k

the sunset has always brought peace to Leon. it was like a rinse, a reminder that his day was ending and starting for someone else across the globe.

a reminder that the day was fading into night and then would fade into morning then night again. it was a peaceful goodbye, silent and celebrated by some in the world. 

the orange, pink, blue, and purple hues brought warmth to his heart. the soft breeze blew up from the cliff and into his hair, his deep brown strands flicking into his eyes and ticking the heights of his cheekbones. his cheeks felt cold to the touch just like his heart. 

unlike the beautiful view and sunset, the peaceful breeze, and the silence, the storm inside Leon was the complete opposite. his skin was littered with ugly scars that he tried his best to hide. there was a storm inside of his heart, tornados destroying his peace, and noise in his head he couldn’t clear. 

he couldn’t sleep, worried about too many things he couldn’t handle or solve. he was tired but sleep only made him even more tired. the nightmares he’d face every night made it hard for him to stay asleep. he’d shoot up in a cold sweat, slapping his hands around his comforter looking for something … or someone. 

nothing can erase the image of that bling, the blinding reflection of a diamond, blinding his eyes from his view of you. it wasn’t any ordinary ring, it was a wedding ring. it hurt, more than any knife or bullet that has painted scars on his body.

he couldn’t believe it. he wanted to deny that even though it’s been so long, that there was still hope. hope for the two of you, that one day time and fate would bring you back together. 

but it seems like fate had other plans. someone else caught your eye, maybe he’s better, maybe he’s enough, maybe he can be there for you the ways Leon couldn’t. 

all while, Leon has been waiting. he stares into the sunset and it reminds him of the warmth of your skin and the shine of your smile. he is planted onto the ground instead of floating on a high like he was when he was with you. he cries and he doesn’t have you to hug him. 

he stirs in his sleep and he doesn’t have you to calm him. he gets home tired and he doesn’t have you to lull him into a peaceful sleep. he’d fall into the crook of your neck, practically putting all his weight on you and you’d accept it with your arms wide open. 

you could barely wrap your arms around him but you still tried, running your hand up and down his back, cooing into his ear and placing soft kisses to his tears. it’s funny how two people can go from cuddling skin to skin to absolutely nothing in a day. 

even though he’s seen every inch of your body, held you in your most vulnerable states, touched you in places no one else can, spoken to you about the future, he even met your family. all that only for you to treat each other like strangers. he’s nothing but a stranger now. it’s not fair. 

he should be the one getting down on one knee and proposing to you. he should’ve been the one to see you clasp your mouth in shock and watch the tears of joy well in your eyes. he should’ve slid that ring onto your finger, he should’ve been the one. 

that man that you married doesn’t even know your jewelry of choice. he had no taste. Leon knew you much better than that. 

his fist clenched in the pocket of his leather jacket. 

it should’ve been him. 

he jumped at the sound of a car door shutting behind him, his head whipping around and his muscles tensing.

it was you. 

you had just crawled out from your car — parked next to Leons. your facial expression was indiscernible but he could tell you were shocked to see him. though, you weren’t alarmed. he watched as you pursed your lips, “you’re here.” 

it was more of a statement rather than a question. the sound of your voice instantly stilled the storm in his mind. suddenly, there were clear skies and sunlight. no more rain and thunder. no more noise. just silence and peace. 

there you were, standing there so casually in a sweater and jeans. nothing has changed but at the same time so much was different. 

he shrugged, hands still in his pockets. 

“i’m here,” 

he watched your lips curve into a chuckle, he wasn’t sure if his heart had stopped or if his heart was racing at a rapid pace.

you were just as beautiful as the day he lost you. it left him speechless at how gorgeous you can be, in any setting, with any hairstyle, wearing any clothes — preferably his clothes. he loved it watching you dig through his dresser to pull out any old t-shirt. 

it’s all you would wear around the house. his clothes. 

your head dipped down as you walked towards him. slow footsteps, dead leaves at your feet crunching as you got closer and closer. he could feel his heart speed up with each step. blood rushing to the tip of his ears and his cheeks, now warm with a small blush. 

you slowed your steps down at a tree — your tree. your hand ran over the initials carved into the bark. your heart instantly stung at the sight and memories were quick to play in your head. 

it was a late night, both you and Leon had leaned up against this very tree. 

you two were enjoying the peace and he was pointing out the constellations in the sky. you weren’t keeping memory of what stars connected to make this instead, you were looking at him. listening to him speak. 

you always loved listening to his passions. 

there was a certain glimmer in his eyes that always captured your eye, that glimmer that indicated he was happy or excited. if you asked him what his favorite band was, he’d spark up, or even when you’d laugh at his horrible jokes. his eyes would gleam, his smile would grow and his face would no longer look so … tense. 

it hurts that you haven’t seen that look in a while. 

you smiled, tracing the tip of your finger over the ‘scar’. he had carved your initials into the tree and back then, it was still bright green and fresh. you remember laughing at how he struggled to carve a heart with the tip of his combat knife. it was cliche, something kids would do, but you were kids back then. free and in love. 

you let your hand fall back into the pocket of your jeans as you continued walking towards him. he kept his eyes on you the whole way, still as enamored as he was before. 

no, he couldn’t be. you were going to be married soon. 

“how are you?” he asked while clearing his throat. 

“i’m…” you paused looking out into the horizon. meanwhile, he was stuck looking at you. the orange light from the sun warmed up your skin beautifully, a natural glow highlighting the tip of your nose and your cheekbones.

he is reminded too much of the memories you two made when he looks at you. 

he loved kissing the tip of your nose and nudging the tip of his into your cheeks. you’d complain at how cold the tip of his nose was and then he’d instantly warm your skin with a kiss. 

“i’m alright, how about you?” you finished staring back at him. if you were being honest, you weren’t alright. you were having many many doubts.

did you get engaged too fast? are you even in love? should you have said yes? is he the right man? will the wedding be a disaster? who are you going to invite? 

all these thoughts were rushing through your head and you needed peace and quiet. so you went to the only place that could relatively give you that. your spot, the one you shared with your past lover. 

“i’m still standing, aren’t i?” 

you chuckled, such a Leon thing to say. 

“also, uh congrats,” his hand left his pocket and gestured down at your left hand. instantly, the cold weight of your wedding band became apparent to you and a chill ran through you. hiding your hand behind your back, you smiled up at him. 

you knew how much it hurt him, you could see the pain and the dullness in his eyes. they weren’t glimmering, he wasn’t happy. 

“thanks,” you smiled, timidly. 

“when’s the wedding?”

“um, don’t know, still trying to figure that out,” you breathed out, tucking a coil behind your ear. “just like everything else in my life,” you mumbled out the last part but Leon heard it all along with the fact that you were wearing earrings. 

~

‘i uh,’ he was bad at giving presents. he always was. he wasn’t sure if the recipient would like it or not. 

‘i got you these but-‘

‘Leon! ‘ he watched your eyes shoot open as he brought the small velvet box into your view. 

‘yes?’ he asked with a lift of his brow before flicking open the box. a set of beautiful earrings that were small and childish but they reminded him of you. 

‘oh! i love them!’ 

‘out of all the things i bought you, these are your favorite?’ he tsked, tucking your hair behind your ear as he prepared to put them on for you. 

‘i know but they’re cute,’

‘silly goose,’

~

he’s seen you happy many times before but that was pure joy. the way you jumped into his arms and hugged him with the grip of a gorilla. they were simple earrings from a small shop, but he watched as you grazed your fingers over them in awe. 

you asked how much they were and winced back at the price. nothing was too expensive to Leon, as long as it was for you. 

his heart dropped at the sight of those earrings, they don’t even match your necklace-

actually, they do.

~

‘babe, want this?’

‘huh?’ you turned towards him away from speaking with another employee. 

‘they match your earrings,’ he tapped at your earlobes causing them to jiggle. 

‘leon, it’s expensi-‘ you were cut off by him placing a finger to your lips while shaking his head. 

‘shush.’

‘you don’t have to.’ he smiled, placing a small kiss to your lips. 

‘i want to.’

~

you’re wearing the matching necklace as well. both contrasting against your ring. one being gold the other being silver. he knew how persistent you were about matching your jewelry to your outfits and to one another. 

you never wore gold and silver at the same time. so why?

your hair dropped back down in front of your face with a gust of wind, hiding away your earrings. 

Leon steered his attention away from you and back down to his feet, “your hair is longer,” he commented. 

you lifted your hand up and tugged at a strand of your hair, “oh yeah, i guess so,” 

you haven’t even noticed, funny how time moves so fast but yet so slow for you. it only feels like yesterday that you and Leon were up here, sitting on a blanket and watching the day fade into the night. your hair was much shorter back then. 

“it looks good, suits you,” 

“thanks,”

the tension was only getting thicker and thicker. this was the first time you two actually talked ever since … god knows when. when you two broke up maybe? it left a bitter taste on your tongue whenever you thought back to it. 

it reminded you that you and Leon rarely argued. you two both worked in the same field, you both understood the weight and responsibility it was to be an agent.

but sometimes, when you love someone so much, you tend to ball up a lot of emotions in order not to hurt them. 

it was about time that you both would explode. 

“why are you here?” you suddenly spoke up, finally cutting the tension down a little. 

“i’m thinking of you…” Leon spoke honestly, “of us,” 

he watched as you froze, eyebrows curving upwards and the corner of your lips dropping into a frown. 

“Leon-“

“i am happy for you,” he was quick to cut you off, raising his voice over yours. 

“stop,” you mumbled out, dropping your head to avoid his gaze. 

“but why? how…” he paused, collecting his anger. he licked his lips and looked down at you. he watched as you bit your bottom lip and screwed your eyes shut. 

“why couldn’t we work?” he asked pointing between the both of you. 

“we were hurt, Leon,” you sighed, blinking away a tear before it could fall as you looked up at him. when you met his blue eyes, your heart sank. he was so hurt. he was still hurt. even after years, he is still hurt. 

“and hurt people hurt people.”

his sad blue eyes always hurt you more than any wound ever inflicted upon you. seeing him sad could easily bring you to your knees, as it is your biggest weakness. you were convinced that nothing could hurt you more than Leon. 

“we could’ve worked it out, we could’ve talked, gone to couples therapy,” he took a step closer to you, his body felt weak almost as if he had broken every bone in his body. “we could’ve done something,”

“i did something! i moved on, okay!” you suddenly shouted out at him, causing him to pause. “i found someone who can communicate and i found someone who doesn’t bottle up and hide away, he loves me-“

“does he?” Leon grimaced, you pursed your lips and hid away from him. almost, as if you were ashamed. he continued to slowly approach you as if you were a timid animal. he was gentle and slow. 

“see, don’t do that-“

“he doesn’t even know half of you, he doesn’t know you like i do,” 

“Leon, stop.” 

even if you told him to stop, you weren’t moving away. you two were opposite sides of a magnet, you couldn’t help but attract each other.

the smell of his cologne was dragging you back to him, the smell of his sweat and his shampoo. the sound of his voice. the warmth radiating off of him. 

it was something you were so used to. it was home. 

he grabbed ahold of your hand, interlacing his fingers with yours. you instantly melted into him, the feeling of his rough palms was always better than anyone else. you could recognize his touch out of a thousand men. 

he was never rough, he was always gentle. he used his hands to kill but to also touch and soothe.

“please,” he whispered out. a breeze coming from behind you lifted the scent of your perfume off your skin and into Leon. you always had a signature scent, one that had his mind in a frenzy whenever it hit him. 

“i know your dream ring by heart, like the back of my hand.” he huffed out. you couldn’t help but breathe out the air caught in your lungs. he reached up slowly with his other hand, brushing your hair back to reveal your earrings. 

“they matched these exact earrings,” his hand traveled down to pick up the pendant of your necklace, “and this necklace.” 

as he turned the pendant around, your initials were carved on the back, the same font and style as your initials on the tree. he still remembers going to the jeweler and asking him to engrave those two letters, with a really bad heart around them. 

showing him the picture of the initials carved onto the tree. you must treasure her. he had said and Leon replied, more than she’ll ever know.

“why do you still have these?” 

“because…they’re my favorite.” you couldn’t lie. out of the plethora of necklaces and earrings, you always reached for this pair. telling your fiance lies; oh, they were a gift from my father. 

“because they’re from you and i can’t let them go, i can’t…” you trailed off, looking down at his chapped lips. he was biting on the inside of his cheek, you could tell. you remember telling him so many times not to do so, you didn’t like it when he was anxious. 

you would always remind him that you were right there beside him, even if he was all alone. 

no words could explain what you were feeling right now. it was a mix of anger and sadness.

but it wasn’t the type of anger that made you want to lash out, it was the type of anger that made you want to cry and walk away. but the sadness was something else, it made you want to curl up into his chest and stay there. 

it made you want to go home. but home was where Leon was. 

Leon was the first man you’ve ever loved. you wanted him to be your first and your last. you remember looking at him and seeing a peaceful future. you thought, after you two split, that you were going to be able to start over again. 

with someone new, something fresh. but your fiance, he wasn’t Leon. he was great in his own way. he was handsome and kind. he was smart and caring. but he wasn’t Leon. 

sometimes, his voice would morph into Leons. his laugh would sound like Leon's. his pattern of breathing sounded like Leon's. you couldn’t escape him or maybe you just couldn’t let him go. 

“are you happy?”

his question caught you off guard, your eyebrows scrunched up at him, and you were slightly taken aback and sure that he meant something else. though, once you looked into his eyes you knew he was serious. “what?”

“does he make you happy?“ 

“stop.” you shook your head. 

“answer the question,” he gulped down the lump in his throat, searching for something and anything in your eyes to prove that he was wrong. 

“yes,” you stammered out. his hopes died then and he nodded slowly, understanding that there was no longer a place for him in your heart anymore. he was happy that you were happy, but he just wished you were happy with him. 

he let go of your hand, letting it drop to his side. 

“but,” he was taken aback when you reached back for his. you wrapped your hand around his pinky, halting him in his steps. “i’ll never love him like i loved you.” 

his eyes flickered up to yours, only to meet the top of your head as your head was tilted downwards towards the ground. you were fighting back tears, your bottom lip shaking. 

“he makes me happy but the very thought of you has me overjoyed,” you looked back up at him, a tear slipping out from the corner of your eye and the tip of your nose swelling red. 

“he buys me designer clothes but i still wear your sweatpants i stole five years ago i-“ you continued to ramble and Leon just listened, his heart fluttering with every word. he never thought he’d hear those words spill from your pretty lips. 

“i still come here almost every day to look at the constellations you showed me,” you sucked in a deep breath, “i drive by the house, our house,” 

you let the tears fall freely as his hand slowly intertwined with yours again. he thought you didn’t pay any mind to him, that he was just a lost memory to you, that you couldn’t care less about him but…

“i still have all your gifts, your letters, your trashy collectibles, i…” you paused to suck in another deep breath, your hands shaking in his but you calmed down at the wind blowing his cologne your way. he was here in front of you and finally, you could tell him the truth. the one you’ve wanted to tell him for a long time. 

“i wanted it to be you.” 

Leon's breath faltered as the words left your mouth. you wanted it to be him, not anyone else. 

without another word, he tugged you closer to him. it was a matter of seconds before his lips found yours, enveloping them in his warmth and passion. you reciprocated his kiss instantly. a tear falling down your cheek and meeting the corner of your mouth. 

he could taste the salty tear in your kiss, and it reminded him of the days he would spend kissing away your tears after you had a nightmare or cuddling you to his chest as you ruined another shirt with your tears.

his arms wrapped around the small of your back, bringing you closer to him as he pressed deeper into your kiss. he was holding onto you so tight to the point it was hard to breathe and even harder to stay put on two feet. 

his tongue swiped across your bottom lip, both eagerly and hungrily. as he did so, you opened your mouth for him. his tongue met yours in a wet frenzy, and he moaned into your mouth as his grip on you only grew stronger. 

you took a few steps back, feeling as if you were going to fall. he only followed you in pursuit, up until you had backed up into the tree. you wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling him impossibly closer. your kiss was becoming sloppy, with wet lips and fighting tongue. 

he gave your thigh a quick two taps and you knew exactly what that meant. you jumped up, wrapping your legs around his waist and he smirked against your lips. the fact you remembered, even after all these years, drove him insane. 

you let him carry you wherever he wanted, you didn’t care to look or pull away from his lips. you trusted him. if he were to take you away right now, you would go. you’d leave with him and live the life you always wanted…with him. 

he pressed you up against his passenger door, unintentionally slamming your body into the metal. the only time Leon was ever rough was during times like this. desperation, hunger, and pure lust. his hand frantically searched for the back door handle. 

the minute he got it open, one minute you were pressed against the door and the next you were being thrown into his backseat. you landed on his leather seats with a loud thud, your chest heaving up and down as you stared at him. 

his eyes were no longer gentle or sweet, they were filled with lust and something devious. but also something so deep and passionate. he was hungry but he was never greedy. 

he slowly crawled into the car as you crawled away. he was out of breath, cheeks flushed and lips swollen pink. you looked up at him as he slowly crawled on top of you. 

he hooked his foot into the door handle and he pulled his knee up to shut the door. his eyes stayed on yours, he didn’t want to waste another word or breath. he slid his fingers through your hair, taking a hold of the back of your head. 

it suddenly dawned on you what had happened and what you two were doing. he was leaning down to meet your lips once again and you forgot. to you now, this was another late night, you two had just carved your initials onto the tree and he had just got his new car. 

he was still blonde and your hair was shorter. he didn’t have his bullet wound and you didn’t have a scar on your hip. you didn’t have this heavy ring on your finger and you were still young. 

you leaned up onto your elbows, meeting him halfway with just as much heat. his hand traveled up your thigh, guiding you to wrap your leg around his waist once again and you followed. just like before, you followed his every instruction. 

“god, i missed you,” he breathed out with a kiss to the corner of your mouth. he then traveled down your jaw, with slow wet kisses. your whole body shivered as he found that spot just south of your earlobe. you sucked in a shaky breath. 

“Leon, please,”

“patience, my love,” he tsked. your legs tightened around his neck, even though he said you needed patience, you needed him. you missed him so much, a part of that was the sex. the sex was fucking amazing. it always was, from the very first time you met until now. 

he fucked you in a way you could never comprehend. he knew just the right things that had the breath leaving your body and your heart leaping out of your chest. 

as he kissed at your collarbone, his hands were traveling up your sweater. large, hot, and rough. his hands felt like sand paper against your soft skin but god it felt so good. you let out a trembling breath as you ground your hips into the buckle of his belt. 

he groaned at the friction, grinding his erection down to meet your hips. he could feel your heartbeat pulsing at your heat through both of his jeans. it was evident that you both were in dire need of each other. 

his calloused hands cupped at your bare breast and he groaned into your skin at the feeling of your bare skin. something he hasn’t felt in so long, your warm and soft skin. his cock jumped in his jeans, just the taste of your skin has driven him crazy. 

he felt dizzy, he hadn’t breathed or blinked ever since his lips hit yours. he didn’t want to waste a single taste or glance. he circled both of your pebbled nipples with his thumbs, smirking at the small whine that left your mouth. 

“no bra, huh?”

“shut up,” you grumbled, beyond sexually frustrated. 

he couldn’t help but laugh as he dragged your sweater off of your body. he tossed it somewhere in his front seat and you could see in his eyes that excitement.

he stared at your breast in complete awe, your body was something Leon worshipped. you were his god and he was all but a simple beggar on the street. 

he always stared at you as if you were some distinct painting; taking note of every small detail, every mole and every scar. even if he’s seen you a thousand times, he always acts like its the first time he’s laid eyes on you. 

“my gorgeous, gorgeous girl,” he sighed, his lips meeting yours in a quick kiss, “how can you be so perfect?”

your heart fluttered at his words, he never failed to have you utterly speechless. 

you trailed your hands over his shoulders and underneath his leather jacket. as you slowly worked his jacket off of him, eyes watching every inch of skin slowly being revealed to you. his muscles flexed underneath his t-shirt as he shrugged his jacket off and threw it somewhere into the front of the car. 

he then pulled his t-shirt over his head in a quick and rushed manner, throwing it along with the rest of his clothes. he’s grown more muscle and definitely bulked up since you’d last seen him. he’s always been so perfect. his body was nice and toned, decorated with firm and chiseled muscle. he was like a marble statue, the ones in the museum with gorgeous proportions and sharp features. 

how can he be so perfect?

he leaned back over you, and rather than your lips in less of a rush of lust, he kissed you slowly and passionately. the feeling of your sensitive nipples brushing up against his warm chest made you shake and let out a small whine. 

his hand traveled up your side again, taking your breast into his palm, and squeezing your nipple between his index and middle finger. you shuddered, a small moan leaving your lips as his other hand traveled down to the button of your jeans. 

he worked his way around the hem of your jeans to take off both your jeans and your panties at the same time. you reached down for his belt, struggling to unbuckle it whilst also struggling to shimmy your pants off of your hips. 

the windows of the car were beginning to fog up, you could barely see the outside, any light shining through was only a smudged blur. it was getting harder to breathe and much harder to think. as you kicked your jeans off, you were quick to help push off his. 

you both were as loud as you wanted, the sound of moans mixed with wet kisses and heaving breaths. 

“i need you, i need you,” you panted out like a prayer. 

he kissed down your chest, bringing your nipple into his mouth while his hand soothed the inside of your legs — sticky with sweat and arousal. you keened under his touch, your thighs shaking and your clit aching. 

you clenched around nothing, desperate for his touch. in your mind, you were counting down the seconds until he touched you. counting each inch that his fingers traced up your thigh. it was when his fingers slotted between your damp folds you broke. 

a desperate sob left your lips and your hips bucked. he moaned into your skin, pulling away from your nipple with a pop. “so wet, all for me,” he breathed out, pressing a small kiss to your breast.

his fingers prodded at your hole, collecting the arousal that dripped when you clenched around nothing. he could tell you were so eagerly waiting for him. eyes gleaming down at him and watching his every move. 

his thumb found your clit and he applied the right amount of pressure that had you arching your back with a small wail. the leather of the seats were hot, there was condensations dripping down the windows and it smelt heavy of sex and his cologne. 

“tell me, tell me what you need, baby,” he heaved out against your cheek. 

“i need you, i want … you,” you replied, out of breath and strength. with that, his inserted one of his fingers, the small stretch was enough to have your jaw hanging open and your legs quivering out of control. nothing and no one has ever had this much of an effect on you, not even fear. 

but Leon, he could make you weak with a simple glance. 

as you clenched around his finger, Leon found it hard to breathe. you were so warm and dripping all over his palm, he could smell your sex everywhere in the car, it was sweet and god it was good. he screwed his eyes shut, trying to contain his composure but you were driving him wild. 

each moan that spilled your lips with every stroke of his finger, he was teetering on the edge of sanity. 

he inserted another finger, slowly and carefully. he didn’t want to hurt you, but watching as your eyebrows curled upwards and your head tilt back, he knew he was doing everything but hurting you. 

a deep moan spilled from your tongue as he curled his fingers up into your gummy walls. at the same time, his thumb pressed circled against your clit. 

“oh god, please-“ 

“calling on god in a situation like this is pretty sinful of you, baby,” he snickered. you wanted to slap him across the face for such a comment but you could barely process his words, your mind was too focused on the pleasure he was giving you and drooling at the thought of his cock. 

he could feel you pulsing around him whilst dripping with need. each curl of his fingers earned him a thristy moan and a squelch. he kissed down your neck, in between the navel of your breasts, and down you stomach. until he reached you abdomen. 

he sucked at your skin, hoping to leave a mark where it wasn’t too noticeable. the pressure on your abdomen along with the pressure of his fingers curling inside of you caused your legs to clamp around him. 

“fuck!” you whined out, carding your fingers through his hair. one of his hands traveled up underneath your thighs, bringing them to rest on his shoulders. your chest rose up and down with excitement, your heart thrumming up against the cage of your ribcage and sweat trickling down your face. 

you took a moment to admire him, kissing at your abdomen while his fingers circled at your swollen clit. he was so pretty. his blue eyes seemed to glow, even if it was dark. the moonlight shining through the foggy windows highlighted the messy strands of his hair and made out every feature of his face. 

his jaw, his straight nose and his hooded eyes. he was beautiful, in between your thighs, standing in the sunlight, standing in the moonlight, asleep or awake, he was just beautiful. 

his lips traveled up between your thighs, kissing at the fat and nipping at your skin. you jumped at the feeling off his teeth but still you loved it. his tongue ran along the small bite mark before he created another. 

“mmm Leon,” 

“shhh,” he soothed, nudging his nose into your plump skin. 

he removed his fingers from your aching cunt with a small pop and before you could whine in protest, he tapped the side of your thigh because he knew that you were going to whine.

once you shut up, he smirked against your inner thigh and brought up his slicked fingers up to your mouth. you opened your mouth and allowed him to place his fingers onto your tongue. 

you swirled your tongue around his digits before sucking your slick off of them. he groaned at the sight of you sucking his fingers, eyelashes batting down at him and face glimmering with sweat. 

“so dirty,” he smiled, blowing air onto your clit. you shivered at the sensation. 

he kissed down your thigh until his tongue found your clit, flicking at the bud with the tip of his tongue all while looking in your eyes to watch your reaction. you moaned around his fingers, lifting your hips — eager for more. 

“patience, my love,” he pressed a kiss to your clit while taking his fingers out from your mouth with a pop. 

he slowly crawled over you, leaving kisses in his path. he finally reached your chin, placing a kiss there and then to your lips. he sucked in a deep breath through his nose, letting his hand run down your side until he guided your thigh back around his torso. 

he stroked himself a few times, groaning against your lips. when his tip nudged your clit, you opened your mouth with a moan, allowing him to stroke his tongue along yours. 

“tell me if it hurts,” he whispered to you, you gave him a reassuring nod and he shook his head. 

“i need your word-“

“yes, yes! i’ll tell you,” 

he slowly sank into you, watching your facial expressions keenly. you were overtaken with pleasure, your jaw hanging open at the painful stretch but also a moan boiling in your throat from your ache being relieved. 

he reached up for the car window behind you, looking for some grip. he left a hand print on the foggy window as his fingers trailed down to the handle. a groan left his lips and he buried his face into your neck, “fuck, so tight.” 

your gummy walls were pulsing around him, making it hard for him to breathe. you were so wet and so warm, making it easy for him to thrust in without any problem. Leon felt like a teenage boy all over again, ready to burst within seconds. 

his swollen tip pressed against your cervix and a whine left your lips. your toes curled and you struggled to suck in a breath, “so good,” you managed to squeak out, clawing at his back to leave scars. 

he slowly rocked his hips into you, grunting at each small thrust. you wrapped your legs around him, begging him to go deeper even if it hurt. one hand stayed on his back while the other ran up the nape of his neck and into his hair. 

“god, you’ve always taken my cock so well,” he whispered out into your ear, with that he began thrusting into you, causing your body to jolt and bounce with every connection of your hips. they were so and deep thrusts. 

he wanted you to feel every inch of his cock and he wanted to watch your face contort as his tip hit your g-spot every time. 

you arched your back into a moan and he took this chance to wrap his arms underneath you. he wanted to keep you pressed to him, he wanted to feel you because he knew this would be the last time. he knew you’d both regret your actions once the passion has died down but he wanted to live in the moment. he didn’t want to think of consenquences after this. 

he just needed to feel you one last time. 

“faster,” you begged, kissing the lobe of his ear. chills ran down his spine at the feeling of your hot breath and your dragged out words. he obeyed without question, pounding into you at a pace that has you sobbing. the car shook underneath you guys and both of you were sure any hikers could hear and guess what was going on inside his tinted jeep. 

“this pussy’s so good, fuck,” he seethed through his teeth, opening his mouth to bite down onto your collarbone. 

“mm fuck,” you whined out, tossing your head back and clenching your legs around him tighter. you could feel his cock throbbing inside of you, with every thrust there was a wave sent through you. you could feel him in your bones. the tension was only getting tighter, your limbs were on fire but you liked the burn. 

you tugged him away from sucking at your breats and your chest, guiding his lips to yours in a rushed manor. you wanted to taste him. his teeth clashes against yours but it wasn’t long until you both found a rhythm. 

he moaned into your mouth, ignoring the ache in his chest from the amount of air. you were his air. he could breathe when he was around you, he felt light. you were his fix. you were his drug. you were his lifeline. 

you controlled whether his heart beat or stop. you controlled whether he was happy or sad. you controlled his mind, body, and soul. you had complete control over him and you just didn’t know it. 

you parted from his lips, a string of saliva snapping back onto your chin. “it’s too much,” you sobbed. you watched the inner corner of his lips twitch, almost as if he was about to smile. he brought your legs up over his shoulder, positioning you the way he wanted that way he cold fuck into you deeper. 

this new angle was enough to put you on the egde, a tear slipped past your eyes and your pupils had rolled back into your skull. 

“you can take it,” he heaved out, as he continued to piston into you. your brain was mush, you couldn’t speak or reply back to him. the only thing on your mind was the feeling of his cock stretching your walls and the sound of his voice. 

“Leon,” you stammered out. you were clenching around him tightly, your legs shaking and your moans spilling out nonstop. he knew you were close, he could tell from the look on your face. completely fucked out of your mind, not a single thought processing.

“my beautiful girl,” he reached down for your clit, “come for me,” 

he kissed another tear slipping down into your hairline as you whined beneath him. your breath was caught in your throat and you could see stars waltzing behind your eyes, you gushed around his cock while moaning out his name. 

he gripped the leather by your head, every taut muscle in his body relaxing as he spilled his hot seed into you. he pressed his tip deep to your cervix, hoping you’d feel every hot rope he gave you. he kissed at your cheeks slowly, slowly rolling his hips into you as you both came down from your highs. 

he was buried in the crook of your neck, heaving out deep breaths and in between them he said, “i love you.” 

your heart sunk. you could physically feel it. your blood ran cold and there was a pain in your chest. 

“i, i have to go,” you could feel his eyebrows scrunch against your shoulder as you sat up from underneath him. you hurriedly reached for your clothes as your sinuses began to sting and tears welled up in your eyes. you were so so stupid. 

how could you have done this? how could you sleep with another man when your wedding is in mere months? not just any man, but your ex. 

you struggled to slide on your panties, you skin still sticky with sweat and cum. 

Leon let his head drop as he listened to you struggle and cry. he reached out for you, “honey, wait-“

“no!” you smacked him away, turning to face towards him with tears in your eyes. “i’m sorry, we should’ve never done this, i’m so sorry,” you broke down and before you knew it he was scooping you back into his arms. 

you wanted to push him away but you had no strength, physically and mentally. “i should’ve never came here and-“

“shhh,” he soothed the back of your head, coaxing you into laying your head onto his shoulder. 

“it’s my fault for still-” you paused suddenly. Leons breath hitched and his body went still. 

“still what?”

“i’m sorry, Leon.”

you pulled away from him, refusing to look him in the eyes. it hurt too much to face him. he doesn’t know how much power he has over you. you couldn’t hide secrets or say no. you couldn’t lie to him. it breaks you to lie to him.

it hurts that you still love him so much.

you reached for your sweater in the passenger seat and throwing it on. 

“answer me,” his voice cracked and with that your heart shattered. you couldn’t turn around and see him crying. you just can’t. the hem of the sweatshirt sat on your tits as you put on your jeans. your throat was aching and you were trying not to cry. you felt like a child.  

“do you still love me?” he reached for your hand, stopping you from reaching for the door. you turned to face him, your eyes now puffy with tears and your lip trembling. you tried so hard not to let the tears fall but it was too late. he watched as you swallowed back a cry and let your hand fall from his. 

“goodbye, Leon.” 

those were the same words you spoke to him when your relationship ended years ago. it was like slow motion, his brain was catching the final moments of you. it was so odd seeing your back profile, even if he’s seen it so many times, it was odd to see it when you were leaving him. 

you left Leon there in your once shared apartment. 

now you leave him in a foggy car that smells just like you. 

as the door opened, he was hit with the fresh night air, cooling the sweat on his body. the smell of fresh pine hit him along with the smell of your perfume. there were sounds of croaking frogs, trees dancing in the wind, crickets, and your choked back sobs. 

then the car door shut. there was silence all around him. he was stuck watching your foggy figure fade away, watching you get into your car and drive off without looking back at him once. he remained frozen, unsure of what to do or say. 

all he could do was let a single tears run down his cheek before he quickly wiped it away. he leaned back into his own car seat, looking up at the roof with a heavy sigh. 

here comes the storm, once again. 

(divider creds to @saradika ,, photos off of pinterest)

tags : @xoxoloveless @luvrgreyy @ynsvnte @satinwithsilk @childchomper1 @porcelainseashore @stefoooo @spfoah @chesue00 @puppyina @prettyntxhee

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[sacrificiallane]

— ˗ˋ AEGON II TARGARYEN c.ai ୨୧ ˊ˗ — 20/12/24

⋆. 𐙚 ˚  being gifted with seeing ﹚ you tell him his future , and it scares him

⋆. 𐙚 ˚ giving birth to his firstborn﹚ aegon would never let you go through this alone! just maybe don't squeeze his hand too tight...

⋆. 𐙚 ˚ his growing dragon﹚ he isn't overbearing! he's just making sure his babe is growing okay

⋆. 𐙚 ˚ blood and cheese﹚ they broke into your home, and tried to kill your unborn babe

⋆. 𐙚 ˚ all is fair in love and war ﹚you want to get rid of his wife.

⋆. 𐙚 ˚ wedded at last ﹚ an arranged marriage is not what he wanted!

⋆. 𐙚 ˚ cant lose you to his brother ﹚he always wished to marry, now it's too late

⋆. 𐙚 ˚ teaching him high valyrian ﹚his worst nightmare...

⋆. 𐙚 ˚ his heart belongs to you ﹚you get the chance to kill him and finally end the war, but will you do it?

⋆. 𐙚 ˚ first encounters ﹚first time meeting you, the person he's supposed to take as his wife

⋆. 𐙚 ˚ at least he's good at… something? ﹚Aegon is surprisingly good with numbers

⋆. 𐙚 ˚ rooks rest ﹚you watch him fall from the sky...

⋆. 𐙚 ˚ speaking nonsense ﹚speaking to your tummy and the growing child inside, Aegon can't help himself but mutter utter nonsense

au﹙ i. bene gesserit!user ⋆. 𐙚 ˚ he trusts you too easily...

au﹙ ii. bene gesserit!user ⋆. 𐙚 ˚ you have plans for him, he doesn't know of

♡ masterlists