#Upon-a-starry-night-writes

[upon-a-starry-night]

Marvel Incorrect Quotes

*Y/n being interviewed*

Interviewer: So y/n, what makes you happy?

Y/n: Natasha

Interviewer: awee. okay- What makes you scared?

Y/n:... Natasha

Interviewer: oh? okay.. uhm. What turns you on?

Y/n:*sweating profusely*... N- Natasha

Interviewer: are you going to answer Natasha to every question

Y/n: *on the verge of tears* N- n-

interviewer: -No?

Y/n: *softly*  ᴺᵃᵗᵃˢʰᵃ

[taegularities]

colour me in: the starry night | jjk (m)

Summary: You anticipated the trip to Jungkook's hometown with a thrilled yet nervous heart – and upon your arrival, your emotions prove justified: because as the days pass, you realise that gentle joy awaits just as much as ancient pain.

➳ pairing: Jungkook x reader ➳ rating: 18+ ➳ genre: fwb/f2l, fake dating; angst, fluuuuuff, smut ➳ warnings: fluff fluff fluffluffulfufluf, flirting, daddy issues, arguments with his father, his dad is pretty much an ass and almost as bad as oc's mom, but his mom and brother are <3, ria <3, oc being a light in the dark, oc learns many new things, cursing, fighting, a lot of crying/tears, neglect, mental breakdown, panic and anxiety, anger, insecurities, too many mentions of nostalgia lmao, jealousy, mention of therapy, nara, christian yu lmAO, WEDDING TIME!!!, oc is so pretty (that jk loses it), alcohol/drunk stuff, more confrontations, making up, he loves loves loves her, childhood coping mechanisms; explicit sexual content: kissing, making out, oral (f. & m. receiving), teasing, eating out against the wall, bit of wall sex, drunk sex, manhandling omg, impatient koo, big dick!jk, dom!jk but this timeeee also sub!jk lowkey!!, tears of pleasure, masturbation, fingering, handjob for a bit, squirting, creampie, literally their orgasms are a MESS phew it's kinda hot lmao, moany/whiny/super turned on jk; no 'the ending' warning this time… just the whole chapter 🥺 ➳ word count: 45.9k lmfao pls do still read it tho ➳ a/n: this was supposed to be 30k i can just never shut up lol sorry <3 but this chapter honestly got me good. i cried sm writing it and i love them and i never want this story to end :') i hope you love it, too. thank you for supporting me at all times <3 i can't wait to hear what you think 🤍 ➳ listen to: dance me to the end of love by the civil wars (alt. version) | full collaborative playlist 🤍

SERIES MASTERPOST | TAGLIST MASTERLIST | WIPs

It’s going to be okay — Jungkook’s hand gently clasping your thigh wants to convince you of this, you know.

But you can’t deny that the presence of the family you so long awaited is affecting you — your pulse is quickening to a heavily uncomfortable pace. You know his mom; you don’t fear his brother; but his father… his eyes are inscrutable.

They scare you to no end. There he is; the power continuously shattering your boyfriend’s heart. And Jungkook must be well conscious of your distress; because a mere moment later, he of all people, the one who's supposed to seek comfort, says—

“Angel? Breathe.”

Your eyes swerve to the side and remember to blink; you only now feel that you're jabbing crescent moons into your palm, just when you realise the sharp impact. You uncurl your fingers and nod, letting him cover the faintly scarred skin with his hand.

Sighing, you ask, “Are you okay?”

“I am,” he says, nodding, as if he’s practised and polished this answer over the years, “nervous, but… it’ll be okay.”

“Yes… I know.”

“Let’s go?”

You pull the handles on your respective sides at the same time, setting foot onto the stranger soil for the very first second in your life. You can’t quite discern your gut feeling right now, but you hope it’s not the last.

Waiting next to the car, you watch Jungkook round the vehicle, squinting your eyes; the noon sun is burning right above you. He heaves the suitcases with a faint groan and you join him right away to fetch the rucksack you brought.

Holding it between your knees, you flash his family a smile and a slight wave, awkward and unsure about what to do until his mother steps down the porch and towards you. She’s elated, and you see the same sprinkle in her eyes as in her son’s when she closes in enough for an embrace.

Her arms are comforting around you; somehow, you’re startled by it. Takes you a second to reciprocate the hug, hopefully not long enough for her to question your receptiveness. But then you put your chin on her shoulder, shutting your eyes for the briefest of seconds until you open them to a side hug between Jungkook and his brother.

In the slowly cooling weather, she feels warm, a motherly love that blasts heat to your cheeks until she lets go. “Finally a woman, huh?” she breathes, her voice so sweet and kind. “A great alternative to all the testosterone.”

“I can imagine,” you respond; the thought isn’t too much of a stranger to you. “I spent most of the week amongst men. They’re barbarians.”

She laughs, just in the moment that Junghyun, Jungkook’s brother advances towards you. He offers you his hand and a radiant smile that resembles your boyfriend’s. In fact, he does look quite a bit like his younger sibling. Lopsided smirk, fluffy dark hair, handsome features.

Not a lot older. Kind as he greets you with a, “Miss Novaura herself, yes?”

The name makes you beam, inundates you with pride. You appreciate that he doesn’t revert to Charmante as most people have done throughout your life, but sees you as what you are and what you do now. The manager of Novaura, damn it.

Yes.

Has he been keeping up with stuff?

“And Miss Novaura meets the second Jeon himself!” you respond, but as he grimaces, you bite your tongue immediately. What did you say?

“When,” he starts, overly dramatic, a little like Jungkook, yet somewhat more extroverted, “was I demoted to the second Jeon?”

“Oh, I’m…”

Jungkook clicks his tongue from the side, shoving his brother aside in the most sibling-like manner you can possibly imagine. Then, he threatens, “Don’t do this, or I’ll take her away from you guys again.”

“What’s that mean?” you ask.

“It means,” Junghyun interjects, “that everyone’s been dying to meet you. Mom and I even told Jungkook not to spill too much about you, so we can see ourselves.”

Oh, the pressure. The nervousness from the past couple of weeks skyrockets. Yet, your charming self conjures, “Then I hope I don’t disappoint.”

Jeon Junghyun speaks on, babbling something reassuring that you’re certain could warm your chest if you had the capacity to listen. But you drift off quickly as the side of your eyes follows a movement in the back: Jungkook timidly, almost fearfully nearing his father.

You’re alarmed and you can’t tell why — perhaps because you don’t truly know their situation yet. You haven’t seen them interact. But at this very moment, you’re surprised when Jungkook and his dad share a light side hug, too.

The occurrence is frigid, but somehow, you expected even more frozen behaviour. Rare glances, absolute ignorance. Your mind envisioned a world that harboured true enmity, but you don’t think that’s quite what these two have been maintaining over the years.

In some sense, it’s worse.

Because rather than pure silence, there’s a deep distance that is still disguised as a surface level of closeness in a family. Faking it might just be more difficult after all.

There’s no conversation between them. Nothing much as Jungkook comes back to his mother to give her a warm, genuine hug, a rainbow to a drizzle in comparison. As if to receive what his father didn’t provide.

You follow.

You’re not entirely keen on a too affectionate interaction between his dad and you, but you still smile when he lifts his hand, shaking it kindly. From here, as the corners of his lips raise, wrinkles around his eyes that he passed onto his next generation, he looks like a terribly nice man.

He gestures into the house and you follow, listening as he asks, “Was the journey okay?”

You nod joyfully, mustering up all kindness for somebody you know hurt someone you love for so long. After all, Jungkook has done the same for you, no matter how many times your mother shattered you.

And in the end, it’s still his dad.

“Oh, yes, pretty pleasant,” you answer, clearing your throat when you hear the formal tone in your voice. “We took turns driving. And since I fell asleep, I guess I can still seize the rest of the day… if you want to?”

You turn to Jungkook as the sentence fades out and he nods with raised, stirred eyebrows. “Yeah! It’s what we’re here for.”

His father smiles, a flat hand signalling towards the living room to invite you to rest for now. Matters seem normal so far; for a moment, you allow yourself to believe he isn’t so neglectful after all. Even with all your trust in Jungkook, you try to imagine a scenario in which he perceived his father’s distaste as something wrong.

You’re incorrect.

It doesn’t require more than a couple minutes and a bit more mingling until you recognise amidst the smalltalk that he doesn’t behave the same with his younger son as he does with Junghyun. There’s lightness in the way he converses with the latter.

Jungkook only moves around you and his mother; no particular intention to really connect with his dad. Understandably so. Their gazes barely meet.

Not even when his father’s tone drops as he approaches Jungkook, uttering a seemingly obligatory, “You alright? Is the job good?”

“Mhm,” Jungkook merely responds.

The interaction is awkward and quiet, yet too noisy for the lovely room. You focus on the homely furniture and small-town-vibed interior as you wait for the brief dialogue to conclude. You’re not at a place to intervene yet.

There are pictures of the family, yet fresher if you could judge. The ones showcasing memories are probably somewhere you can’t see yet; you’re buzzing to finally skim through his childhood pictures.

You listen in. Quiet again, conversation already at an end.

Jungkook’s fingertips graze yours, giving a short head tilt, wondering what you’re thinking about. His beam is different when he looks at you now, a much more blissful alternative to the timid words he voiced just a couple seconds ago.

But you can’t really answer when his mother emerges in the room to wave you towards the kitchen, eager to converse, yet suggesting, “If you want, you can freshen up before dinner.”

But you reject the idea kindly, flashing your best smile as you respond, “I’m excited to be here, so we can just talk a little for now. I’ll go wash my face after dinner!”

She nods slowly, politely, a the-guest-is-king-sort of gesture before you add, “How have you been?”

The family joins at the dinner table one by one; nobody interferes or barges into another’s turn. Only listens. You’re used to chaos from events and parties you used to attend, everybody dying to have the last word, to outsmart another.

This family is as patient at a conversation as you’ve witnessed in your boyfriend. They’re lively, interested; maybe there’ll be more of an ecstatic family tumult when you get used to them or when more people join. At the wedding, probably.

You’ve seen something like that with your friends, too. Especially on this vacation. You did fall into disorder quite often.

Yet, it differs from your usual experience. No discomfort. No fear of odd questions.

The Jeons aren’t out to reveal your little secrets, but to understand you as a person; so you appreciate the natural flow of the dialogue when Jungkook’s mother answers, “Just tired. The wedding preparations are tedious, and it’ll probably only get worse.”

“Yeah? You’ve been helping out a lot, yes?”

“Yes, somewhat. The bride… Gayoung, she’s close with us and relies on us a lot. And on top of that,” she shakes her head at this point; rolls her eyes as she turns on the stove, stirring and heating up some meal, “she’s getting cold feet.”

“Oh man,” Jungkook adds, chuckling a little, unsurprised, “wedding is definitely on, though. She always gets nervous. Almost missed her first day at work years ago,” he turns to you, “she’s a vet, and she was terrified of hurting the pets, but… everybody trusts her with their pets’ lives now.”

“Awh,” you voice, “I can imagine how stressful that must be. I’m pretty good at managing stuff, though, so if you need any help—”

“No way, you’re not here to work. You can do something else?” His mother looks over her shoulder, pondering. “Paint?”

“Oh, I do paint sometimes, but I’m not very good at it.”

“She is,” Jungkook argues, hand lifting to rub your back, “but she’s an even better writer.”

His father chimes in, arms folded, “Oh, I think you can get a ton of inspiration here, then. There’s a flower field nearby if you’re interes— what?”

Stopping when Jungkook interrupts with an exhale, he tilts his head at his son, and you follow his gaze, watching thick eyebrows kiss. “I already took care of that, but… way to spoil a surprise.”

Ah. You see the hostility increase with each second. You wish you could diffuse the moment; tell Jungkook to ignore everything that might irk him.

Instead, you only sneak your palm to his knee, imitating his rub to calm his nerves. He must be tense. He always must be.

“I wasn’t spoiling,” his father argues, “was just an idea.”

“Oh, it’s okay,” you intervene, patting Jungkook’s thigh. He looks at you just briefly, but it suffices for some of his muscles to relax. “I don’t know much anyway. Spoiler-free zone!”

It’s the best you can do. So you keep trying; diverge the topic to other aspects of your life when Junghyun asks about your job and the efforts connected to it. About the joys and hardships of it. About how your parents are doing — burdensome topic, yet a must to master. 

Then they speak about the passage of time in the city, and how it compares to this place; how the family perceived the differences and how their current life differs from their past here.

You learn that they still feel more connected to their hometown; obvious when considering the fact that they spent most of their years here. Initially uncertain about moving, they still decided to be closer to their children and the world’s opportunities.

The city called and it kept them.

You know it kept Jungkook the most; or maybe it was you who shackled him there, too.

“Apart from the obvious differences,” you start, “I can’t comment much on it yet, but… I’ve been really interested in being here. Super nervous.”

His mother coos, scrunching her nose the way he does, assures that there’s no need to be nervous; that this wedding might end up being the kindest you have ever been to. Adds, “Speaking of. Brought a pretty dress?”

“Oh, of course,” you say; your toes curl in excitement. “I’d show you right now, but I promised to keep it more or less a secret from Jungkook.” You wiggle your eyebrows at him. “He’s seen it, but not me wearing it.”

“Ah. Is it that pretty?”

“It’s pretty amazing.”

She steps closer as the dish simmers, playing with a couple strands hanging in Jungkook’s eyes. His lips twitch upwards, and his cheeks colour in a blush when she says, “Well, knowing this guy, you’re out to give my boy half a nervous breakdown, I see.”

“I’m trying to, really.”

Your answer is light-hearted, but a mere moment late. You can’t help but wonder what she means by knowing this guy. Then again, you presume a mother usually witnesses her children’s lives; watches them fall in and out of love.

You don’t like how the realisation makes you feel, but you smile it away either way.

And it doesn’t help when Junghyun seems to catch onto her statement, too, saying, “By the way… I’ve heard that at the wedding, we—”

But the interruption is sharp. Unnatural, abrupt, his mother’s voice strange when she interjects, “Ah. Listen. Let’s serve dinner, and we can talk more when we eat. A hand?”

You don’t know what it’s about, but you attempt your best to not be nosy. You can’t even guess it, so it’s probably easiest to let it go. To only stand up to help a little, Jungkook and you handing things around until you’re seated again.

She still scolds Junghyun silently, eyes wide when she sits next to him; perhaps it’s a surprise for Jungkook or for you.

You won’t spoil it. Focus on the food.

And despite the early tension, you survive dinner, albeit occasionally cut by things Jungkook’s father remarks and by Jungkook’s responses of retaliation. Like—

“Honestly, you not liking these is a perk,” Junghyun comments when Jungkooks puts the green beans aside, snatching them immediately.

His father is quick to deduce, “Didn’t you love them?”

Jungkook’s smirk is immediate, accompanied by a shrug and a click of his tongue, and a somewhat passive aggressive, “Yes. Fifteen years ago, though.”

It’s odd, the mixture of anger and fear. He reveals his agitation in his short answers, but he never extends them to something that might provoke a bigger fight.

His father then says, “I’ve never seen you put them aside.”

To which Jungkook mutters, “Should’ve looked more then, right.”

“That’s unnecessary.”

“Okay.”

Tense. Quiet. Gulping.

But you get it over with, breathe and touch through it all until the plates are cleared, stuffed in the dishwasher, the clock ticking. Jungkook leads you to the porch that his family greeted you at earlier. You intertwine your fingers deeper, hoping for some solace between the irate words exchanged.

His shoulders stand slightly higher than usual, eyes a little unfocused. You squeeze his palm, and he laughs when you bump your shoulder against his. Tapping his foot against the porch, he says, “This is where we were having a barbeque this summer. Remember when I called you?”

As if you could forget. Those calls got you through messy, forsaken summer days. He lets go of your hand to tug you into his side, tight in his embrace, and your voice grows a pitch when you answer, “Yeah. You were drunk.”

“I was.”

“And you still called me. Burned your finger, right?”

He scoffs. “I barely remember that. I just remember seeing you on the video call and… missing you really bad.”

You glance into his face, opting him to do the same. Eyes half on his lips, half on his pupils, staring to and fro, you ask, “You don’t miss me now, though, right?”

“Hm… I don’t hope I’ll ever need to again.” As he presses into your arm, you cuddle in. He nods towards the small front yard, “They were playing Linkin Park here. And way back, when I was like seventeen, I’d smoke here sometimes.”

Your eyes blow wide; you can’t imagine his gentle fingers holding a cigarette between them, but then again, you kind of can. He laughs at your surprise before he continues, “I know. Rebellious phase. It was stupid, because Mom would smell it right away and then ground me.”

“Damn, Kook.”

He nods, lifting a shoulder as if to say my bad, and then kisses your temple. Asks, “You feeling good?”

“Yeah. I really like it here so far.”

“Good.”

“Are you?”

“Yeah. It’s okay.”

“Good,” you echo, just for him to do it, too.

“Good. I think we cou—”

Pause. 

Because the feast of interruptions continues still. A sudden, shrill call of his name reverberates across the streets, and you flinch, following the sound on the right before detecting somebody walking up to you.

You haven’t seen her yet, but she’s glowing; hair open behind her, just the top half held at the back with a butterfly claw clip. The breeze swirls her bangs, and just from the exhilaration in her voice, you can tell who it is.

Jungkook lights up equally when he squints his eyes and recognises her, loosening his grip around you as he exclaims, “Hey!”

“Helloooo!”

And then he lets you go. You watch the endearments unfold. He says, “Didn’t expect you here today.”

“Me neither,” she says, and he laughs; you join in, already curious. “I was going to binge some show, but Junghyun texted saying you’d arrived.”

She catches up with a somewhat heavy breath, widening her arms when Jungkook steps down from the porch and engulfs her in a firm, heart-warming hug. Loving, decades old.

They oscillate on the spot, and she rubs his back until they let go. She doesn’t waste a minute until her eyes drift to you; they’re so expressive, dark yet glimmering. They prove your assumption when you see her joy towards you immediately.

The moment begins a little awkwardly as the stranger approaches you with uncertainty about what to say, but then she asks, “Is it okay if I hug you, too?”

You giggle. Goodness.

“Gosh, sure!”

And you’re delighted to the bone. Her touch is warm, inviting. They all are. You’re not used to it; why does it make you sentimental? You don’t know her. You’ve never spoken to her. Why the clump in your throat?

Weird.

“Ria,” she introduces, “I’ve heard so much about you. Really, it’s a common thing to say, but I’ve been really excited like… man, why did you come so late when he was sooo whipped in the summer already and—”

Your face heats up impossibly; this thought of a passed summer that called upon a million unknown emotions and words and encounters and yearning… you might never get over it.

Jungkook gives her a playful whack on her clothed arm, eliciting a prolonged Owhhh. You lift a protective arm over her to jest back, and she gasps, infinitely pleased. It helps her open up more, because it seems that she doesn’t need more than this to suggest, “Can I take her?”

Wrinkles form on his forehead as he raises his eyebrows in confusion, and she, nearly jumping at her spot, explains, “Show her around a bit. We’re having dinner soon and then I won’t be able to move, so…”

Jungkook blinks, unsure, looking between her and you until you urge, “It’s okay. You drove most of the time, too, so try and rest a bit.”

Your reassurance helps; either way, you don’t think you would’ve gotten to much more today anyway, no matter how much you hoped to seize the evening. You’re beat from the last day and the terrible night and the tiring journey and the filling meal.

Taking a walk is all you can imagine to do right now.

Maybe he’s on the same wavelength as you, because the nods come slowly but surely. “Sure. Go. I’ll come later to bring her back.”

Ria places a sweet hand on your back, urging you forward and speaking back, “Gotta make sure I don’t kidnap her, what?”

Her house is nearby. The first of the conversation goes by similarly as it did in Jungkook’s house, but the moment she announces the arrival at her own home, your calm demeanour changes to a rather terrified one.

She’s not going to…

No.

Because she promises, “I’m not taking you inside, no worries. I wouldn’t overwhelm you like this.”

Your chest relaxes. You guess meeting one family officially, as if you’re being evaluated for marriage, might suffice. While sure her family’s as lovely as the other, you don’t want the overstimulation.

So instead of urging you inside, she takes you to the small cottage next to her house. Their property is a little bigger, the area spacier. You soon find out that the little house she’s taking you to isn’t some guest thing, but houses dozens of farm animals.

You didn’t think there was something to the cliché you heard about small towns; yet, the reality is much more endearing. How oddly cheerful the animals seem, even though you know the fantasy is just a fabrication of your mind.

You don’t know what they’re thinking or feeling.

One of the hens clucks as Ria picks it up, looking at you with big eyes as she says, “I thought you guys would come early in the night and then just sleep. I didn’t know you’d arrive so much earlier.”

“Oh yeah!” you say, hands in the back pockets of your jeans, “We left the hotel at noon.”

“That’s crazy.”

She bends, letting the hen go, and the little thing instantly rushes away. You flinch, stepping back. You’ve never done this before; you try to keep your cool, but you’re so inexperienced, mesmerised by your surroundings.

This place is so different, so much quieter, more serene. You understand the nostalgic vibe of romance movies set in towns like this. You’re suddenly thrown into The Notebook and into Footloose. Into everything that evokes warmth.

“What is?” you ask.

“Just. It’s so nice to meet you. We have so many guys here, so it’s cool to be with a girl for once.” She takes a deep breath. “And I love Kookie and I trust his judgement. So when he told me about you, I told him to get you here right away. It took you so long.”

Her tone is frisky, but you feel bad. Not quite because you let her wait, but because of why you waited yourself. Because of the breaks and pauses and the split hearts that you needed time for to sew again.

The weeks of insecurity and then the trials of life.

Something in the pit of your stomach stirs at the memories; you can’t believe you’re standing where he fell for you first, despite the distance. Where he reached for you through the rain and the clouds and the stars, and called to listen to your tears and your pleas to return.

You can’t believe it. In fact, yes, you believe it as little as her.

“I get it…” you say, “we have quite a few guys in our group, too.” You wait, watching her nod as she inspects the last of chickens running into the cottage. Then you ask, “What did he tell you about me?”

“What he told me? Mmmh. I mean, it’s difficult to say. He spoke of you highly, but I think his main focus was on not hurting either of you. Very, very worried about how things might play out.”

Yeah… yeah, it sounds like him.

You don’t answer; shift your eyes to the grassy ground. You hear her voice lift a pitch as she says, “Man, too many guys is simply too much, though, seriously. And then having to deal with Kook all the time must be so exhausting, too.”

Laughter erupts out of you, and you shake your head, “I mean, he’s a brat sometimes. But he’s the best man I know.”

“He is a good guy, yeah? I’m so glad.” She nods again, affirmative and positively confirming. “He’s always been. It sucks sometimes that he lives so far away.”

“I’m sorry,” you say, but she shrugs her shoulders, waves off your concerns. “I take it you’re not interested in living in the city?”

Her eyes narrow when she looks into the distance, met with the lowering sun as if it entails the entirety of her beloved town. It’s probably part of it, though; the one sun she’s known all her life, despite the same star rising and setting everywhere in your vast world.

“Not really,” she says, “I like it here… Even though so many left.”

“Yeah?”

“Yes. Some people I knew…”

You can imagine. Two faces flash into your mind, at least. Not that you like half of the thought; but it’s automatic, and so is your statement, “I feel like I know at least two.”

She seems surprised. Tilts her head, blinking, hands on her hips. “Really?”

“Yeah, well…” You avert your eyes, fearing an abundance of transparency. “Jungkook and Nara.”

“Oh.” Ria’s blinking fastens. She didn’t expect this; neither did you. But in some sense, it was inevitable, dropping Nara’s name here. “You met Nara, huh?”

“You say it so… weirdly.”

Her hands lift and she immediately works on objecting to your assumptions, “No, I mean. She’s nice! I liked her growing up. I just wouldn’t have mentioned her unprompted. There’s no need…” She studies your face. “He doesn’t either, you know? Talks about you mostly.”

You don’t know what to say. You gathered this much; but a very strange feeling in your chest presses against your heart, and you can’t quite decipher why. You shove it aside as best as you can, and then breathe it out, thankfully admitting, “That’s relieving.”

“There’s no need to worry. I think he and you will have a good time here and bond more than ever.”

You nod. You don’t feel like responding; not because you don’t like her or don’t want to. Your throat is tied, and you can’t really think of or form a productive thought. So you just keep nodding, smiling until a hen pops out again.

Ria, pushing away a stray strand of her dark hair, points to the little, excited animal, wondering, “Hey, have you ever held a chicken?”

“No!” Ah. Good tactic to distract you, considering how many times you mentioned this minor wish in the past weeks. “But I want to! Told Jungkook like a hundred times.”

“Okay,” she waves you closer and you dare to approach, hoping to neither hurt the hen nor yourself. You have absolutely no clue about these things. “Come here then. It’s not hard.”

It’s not. In fact, the process sounds logical, facile; but your hands are shaking, and often enough, animals seem to understand negative emotions when targeted. But Ria proves a good teacher.

Shows you to near the hen calmly, moving slowly to not startle her. She instructs you to soften your voice as much as possible, kindly noting that you’re soft-spoken enough to not worry about it. And then, once close enough, she demonstrates placing a hand around the tiny body, securing the wings to prevent flapping.

You imitate. Or try to, at least. It doesn’t work right away, your nervousness intruding; but at some point, you manage. You use your other hand to support the body, lift the hen gently. Hold it close to your body to give her a sense of security, much as Ria lectured.

Ria is patient, amazing, despite having done this probably a thousand and million times. Adjusting to your lack of knowledge, praising you, acknowledging your effort.

Her giggle is mellifluously sweet as she watches and hears you gasp; she applauds, but stops right away when she detects the third presence amongst you.

She calls, “Ah! You’re finally here.”

Your eyes follow hers, heart lighting up as you hold up the chicken carefully and nearly shout in uninhibited excitement, “Kook, look!”

His hands are in his jeans’ pockets; his walk idle. One of his eyes is squinting shut until he steps into the shadow, a tender smile playing around his lips before you realise that it looks… sad. Doesn’t reach as far. No crinkles around his eyes.

“Aren’t you the cutest, munchkin?” he responds before dropping into a crouch next to you. He seems brighter upon seeing your face, but you still keep wondering… What just happened in the house?

You don’t know. You don’t want to ask yet either.

So you only set the hen down, lowering her until she’s balanced and waddling — waddling? — away. You wrap your arms around him, providing a flicker of warmth. You don’t know what made his face fall like this, but you want to at least attempt to lift his chin again.

God. What a start to the first day. Is it odd to feel scared?

“Wanna go?” he asks, a thumb brushing the corner of your lip.

You hum, “I’m getting tired, yeah…”

“Then we can go and rest? And sleep if you want to.”

It’s early… but laying down and staring at the ceiling doesn’t sound too bad right now. Maybe he needs it, too. So you agree, pressing Ria to your heart once more and promising to return to her.

She’ll be at the wedding, too. You guess you’ll see everyone multiple times anyway; but as rude as it may sound, the thought of warming into this man’s body doesn’t allow you to bother with the world right now.

His steps are slow as you walk to the house. Eyes drooping. He might not notice; he’s been here so many times. But his presence, combined with the things you see, make your heart swell.

Maybe because you want to be there for him; maybe because you still can’t believe you’re here. But you perceive everything as if for the first time.

The cosy garden and the flower beds. A small-town house sitting on a quiet, tree-lined street. It’s more on the simple side, painted in warm hues, a light beige. Charming. You remember everything being charming.

The snug living room, the tender, partly wooden and partly modern kitchen, the clearly old and handmade dishes. A fireplace. Wooden floors. 

You haven’t seen the rooms yet, but as he leads you upstairs, you imagine him doing the same this summer as he approached his bed. He walked these same steps, a narrow and short hallway, opening the door to an inviting childhood bedroom with you present in his device.

Yearning.

But the man from the summer isn’t all you see. In fact, the place reminds of time travel; you soon recognise just how signature Jungkook everything is.

Because the moment you enter, you see him in everything. Like, in the soft quilts on his bed; he wouldn’t use them today, but you imagine a shy Jungkook and you imagine big eyes, small hands pulling the sheets over his body to cuddle into a warm night.

The window overlooks the backyard; the sunlight filters through the sheer curtains. It’s still just the middle of the evening. But you find it hard to want to leave this simple comfort. Lived-in, sweet.

Reminiscent of a youth.

Like a soft tune of a ballad. You don’t know what it is that makes you feel this way.

The cosiness? The pictures on shelves? The slightly tilted roof of the room? Or the posters reminding of a world a decade ago. It hasn’t been this long, if you think about it, but to you, all of this still tells a story.

“What’s this?” you ask, opening a random drawer and grazing rolled up paper, large, stowed away.

“Posters, I think? I haven’t seen or opened them in ages. Maybe we can—”

He pulls and rolls them out, glancing for a bare moment before he undos the action with a sudden bright red on his cheeks. You try to catch a glimpse, “What?”

He doesn’t answer, so you take the poster from him, only needing to open it halfway through to see a pretty face, followed by a swimsuit and a snatched body. Ah. Is this…

“Victoria’s Secret?”

“Shut up,” he instructs, and you hold yourself back, watching him, blinking until—

You puff out some air, nearly spitting as you laugh, teasing, “You were that type of guy, yeah?”

“Shut up,” he repeats, prying it out of your hands before he throws it into a corner. “I had this up for like two weeks. Forget it.”

“Never threw it away, though.”

“Never thought of it.”

He scratches the back of his head, a tilted smirk on his face, and you can’t help but want to keep annoying him. But he needs far more than this right now, and you’re not here to get on his nerves. So you walk up to him until determined arms wrap around his waist, kissing his chin.

“You okay?” you ask.

“Well…” He’s quieter than he’s been in the last few days and it disheartens you. Somehow fatigued, eyes halfway closed. “You know.”

You do know. Or perhaps, you don’t, but you can well imagine.

You’re not sure how he took all of this day in, day out for so many years, but you understand the weight of the situation a lot better now. Of course your mind would be rewired if you hurt this much all the time.

Whatever you’re seeing now is a fraction of what he experienced.

“It’s going to be okay,” you remind him again.

“Yeah.” He sniffles. “Hey. I have a little surprise for you tomorrow. It was spoiled a bit, but you’re right.” A peck to your nose. “You don’t know anything yet. But you’ll like it, I think.”

You don’t doubt it; you guess it helps, not being aware of much at all. Waiting for the surprise.

But then again…

When you look at him again, excitement flickering in those tired eyes of his and a hand pushing against the small of your back lightly, you think that you know a couple things at least.

“Okay. Hold on. You’re definitely going too fast!”

“This is too fast? You should’ve seen Junghyun and me racing years ago.”

You lower your head in an attempt to hide it from the wind, seeking his sweater; it’s impossible from this angle. You’re at the front, surviving between his arms as he navigates the bicycle recklessly. 

The wind slaps your face, cooler this noon than yesterday. The bike writhes on the road, and you yell out, “Man, I’ll die!”

“Baby!” he exclaims back.

His laugh is louder than the gust as you hold onto his moving thighs and then realise it’s of no help. You shift your hands to the front of the cycle, wondering when it’ll hit an unforeseen rock and tip over.

“Hey,” he tries again when you only scream back, “have you never been on a bike before?”

“Of course I have!” You resist the urge to add a curse. He’ll kill the two of you. The streets are steep, probably a hill, going downwards. “Just never two people at once.”

“I did it a lot! With friends, and mostly with Gureum.”

Gureum… his dog. You have yet to meet him.

“Gureum?” you repeat.

“Yeah! He’d sit in the basket and… and enjoy the wind. Eyes closed.” He pants between cycling. “I told you, no?”

But your thoughts are elsewhere, chin dropping to your clavicles as if not looking could save you. “Fucking hell—”

“Okay. Okay…”

The bike stops abruptly, and you yelp, shutting your eyes tight and preparing yourself to die. But death doesn’t come; a tap to your hip does. His fingers hold you, calming you, words the opposite as he orders, “Alright. Get off my bike. You can walk the rest of the distance.”

Between the sniffling and the reclaiming of control of your trembling legs, you register the surprising command, and mumble, “What?”

“You heard me, sweetheart. I’ll wait at the flower field.”

You dare a look over your shoulder. His expression is serious, an eyebrow cocking. You want to retort something snarky, tell him you’ll stay on if he just slows down, for the love of God; but instead, you look ahead, and decode the view immediately.

The grass is high and the place wide. You’re right where the field begins, the road more narrow here, only really enough for cyclists and walkers. You roll your eyes, getting off as you tell him, “You’re terrible. We’re already here.”

He laughs, dropping the bike to the side carelessly before he reaches for your messed up hair. Fixes at least the front of it, flattening it in the back. You’re glad there’s no mirror around.

Then, he proceeds to grab your hand, a finger pointing to the place and says, “Look around.”

You do. It’s widely open and empty. A decent amount of flowers; you imagine a plethora of them in the summer and the spring. Now that fall is in full effect and it’s a little colder here than on your coastal vacation, you reckon that this isn’t usually all how the field looks.

But it’s beautiful. In the far, far back, you see the forest expand. Slightest traces of autumn foliage. The leaves will fall and entirely bare the trees soon.

“This is so pretty,” you say.

“Right?”

“Was this the surprise?”

“I mean,” he cards his fingers through his hair, but as he grabs the willow wicker from the larger cycle basket, the mane is blown back into his sight just a moment later, “yeah. But the actual surprise is a bit further down the field. Come.”

He guides the way, and you put your all into deciphering what he might be hinting at, only for him to say, “Don’t look so hard. You will see it in a moment anyway.”

The laugh he elicits is sweet, a thumb touching the back of your hand. Your shoulders drop in relaxation, and you shift your attention to the grass and the flowers, trying not to stomp on any of those that are still left for this fall.

A couple feet forward, you tell him, “You know I still need to meet Gureum.”

“I know. He was with Ria since we can’t really take care of him when we’re away.”

“You could take him to the city.”

“I’d do anything to be able to. But Gureum is… a free dog. He wouldn’t enjoy life in a smaller apartment after running around for so long.”

Ah… You feel the opposite still; jumped from a large cage into a homey, sheltered cube happily. But you get it; the freedom here doesn’t compare to a crowded city, does it?

“But,” Jungkook continues, “Ria said she’d bring him over this noon, so he should be there when we get home.”

“Damn. Why am I more excited about this than necessary?”

“Oh, you should be. I am, too… he’s my old boy.”

The oxymoron grants you a smile; to a parent, a baby stays a baby. Most of the time, at least. Jungkook feels something for Gureum, and even a stranger, lost and unknowing, could piece this bit together within a heartbeat.

“He’s old?” you wonder.

“He’s twenty years old. A bit slower now but… the same amount of love in his heart.”

One shall learn how to love and be kind from Jeon Jungkook. Then again, he’d be an excellent example, but a bad teacher. Wouldn’t know what to say. Wouldn’t be able to really pick out what makes him so pure-hearted.

He just is… He just is.

“I can’t fucking wait,” you say, inspirited.

The sight changes along with his expressions as you walk down the field. From happiness to a smile to excitement and then contentment. The flowers mostly disappear, giving way to something you don’t really recognise.

Orderly rows, bright green leaves and… more plants? As you inbreathe the air, however, you swear you recognise the sweet and fresh scent. Even from here, it’s distinct and special.

And when you trudge closer, finally glancing down, you understand.

Jungkook…

He took you strawberry picking.

You see them low on the ground, clustered, ripe and red. Pretty. Enough to warrant a dozen adjectives; yet, you only whisper, “Wow.”

He waits… then waits more. Lets your eyes scan the area and the fruits, permits you to take in what he probably reckons you’ve never seen before in this form. And he’s right — you haven’t.

“You like it?” he questions. “I was unsure, like… maybe you’re underwhelmed?”

Your head turns towards him at light speed. “What? I’m not. I’ve never seen anything like this before,” you confirm, repeating your thoughts, “I am definitely not underwhelmed. This is… this is something my younger self craved.”

“Oh— Really? How so?”

You hum. Think back to late nights in the back of your bed, a room larger than what you needed, yet smaller than your imagination. Smaller than your heart.

“I read stories,” you tell him, “fairy tales. Watching tales of love in the countryside. We don’t have these places in the city, do we?”

Jungkook’s hand, on your back a second ago, travels up to the back of your neck, touching it gently. “I guess you’d have to find a farm.” He stares ahead where you do, still standing there, unmoving. Then, “Angel?”

“Yeah.”

“You said you went on a field trip to a farm, right?”

“I… can only really remember once in school. Kids were shitty.” You spoke about this once; last month, he promised you’d see Ria’s farm, too. Funny that she actually did show you. “And my parents weren’t really interested in that stuff. Which I do kinda get because many city people aren’t.”

“Mhm, I can understand.” He shuffles his feet, presumably a little sad for you, regarding the long row of strawberries stretching to his right. You’re about to crouch and try without a clue what to do when he, instead of commenting on things much more, asks, “Okay, so. Wanna pick strawberries?”

“Yes!” You rub your hands, taking a step forward, but pausing again; you could start anywhere. “Will you show me how?”

“Of course.” He hums, looking for an easy spot with an accumulation of easy-to-pick fruits; then, he lifts his jeans by a couple inches and lowers his body. “Look. You can crouch or kneel.”

You give your clothes a lookover. Just some everyday jeans; they should be able to take some dirt. In actuality, though, you might’ve joined him on the ground anyway. So you do, kneeling with your hands on your thighs, obediently listening.

“You look so cute.” He chuckles, the back of his fingers barely grazing your cheek for a moment. As he sniffles, his chin nods towards the plants, hands reaching for them. “So. You gently pull the leaves aside and just pick the strawberries. Avoid those that aren’t red, though, okay?”

His pinky touches parts of an unripe strawberry still in the ground, and he explains, “You’ll know that one’s ripe when it comes off easily. Like this,” he tugs at it, “isn’t ripe. Won’t come off so well. Mmmh. Let’s try this one.”

You follow his movements until he settles for a particularly pretty and seemingly juice berry; with ease, he plucks it off by grasping the stem and twisting a little, and says, “See? You could eat this one right now. But… basket?” You shove it towards him and he throws the berry inside. “We’ll wash it before that.”

It’s quiet and sweet here as he works on explaining the process to you. An atmosphere you haven’t ever witnessed anywhere before. It’s probably different in the spring, but you’re alone here; even if someone’s around somewhere, you can’t see them from where you sit.

And it helps you focus: on how concentrated he looks, lower lip pouting, crouching easily with his sweater sleeves rolled up. It’s unusual how his tattooed hand works on the plants. Your first imagination of such a task always involves straw hats and dungarees.

“Try it, too,” he then instructs.

He puts a gentle palm on your back as you get up from kneeling, now crouching as he is, and cast about for a couple good pieces. Whenever you think you’ve found one, you seek confirmation in his eyes, repeating, “Is this okay?”

And he always promises, “You’re doing well. Look,” he inspects one of your choices, “picking the best even.”

“You’ll have to eat mine, then.”

“Sure will. I knew you’d be so good at this.”

You’re surprised; you never saw yourself doing this, even though you yearned for a life so different than the one you lived. Until you stepped off his bicycle twenty minutes ago, you had never come up with such an idea. All the more reason to be thankful to him.

But you do wonder why he’d perceive something like this far before you did, so you ask, “Really? Why?” 

He uttered the words so casually, pupils fixated on the basket; he might not have noticed how immediately you reacted. Because he hums now, looking at you with immense eyes, matter-of-factly spelling out, “Because you’re gentle. This called for you.”

Because you’re gentle. Because you’re gentle.

The reasoning, so clear to him, repeats in your mind. It’s not as obvious to you; it’s been a while since you thought of your qualities, and in the last months, being gentle often meant the same to you as quietly enduring.

So you’re touched, silenced by the lump in your throat; such an easy sentence, but so filled with  knowledge about a person that only truly occurs with the purest of affections.

As you stare at him, you feel the fondness spreading over your countenance as much as the leaves tickling your ankle; you hold the current strawberry delicately as you conclude, “That’s why you brought me here, yeah?”

“That too.”

Oh.

“What else?”

“You can’t do this every day,” he argues, “I want to show you new places and things.”

You graze the vulnerable skin of the strawberries collecting in the basket, watching it fill enough to feed a couple people. Grabbing it, you lift your body with a smile. For a minute, your knee aches from the crouching, and your brain gathers the sensations into one to create another core memory.

Lost for words, you merely tell him, “Thank you, Kook, I…” You heave the basket to your chest, touching his hand as he rises, too. “How do you even come up with all this?”

“How I come up with it? Hmm… I guess you make it easy to do.” He laughs, and you follow, reading your mind as he voices the same thought flashing through your brain. “I know I’ll be so nostalgic about this someday. In ten years, maybe.”

Cheeks hot despite the autumn wind, you register the butterflies immediately. Right under the basket, underneath your skin, like a swarm awaking from metamorphosis. The fact that he thinks ahead like this, paints a distant future with you… wanting you for this long drives you insane.

Jungkook’s voice always lacks uncertainty when it comes to you.

Mellow when he speaks to you, gentle even when he asks, “More?”

“Mmmh… yes. Can do a few more. And it’s fun.” So you do; picking and plucking until you can barely carry the basket anymore, already wondering what to do with the bunch until you pop the idea, “Can we eat some of these?”

“Now?”

“Yeah.”

“Of course. Gotta wash them, though.”

Which isn’t as easy as it sounds. It takes you a good moment to find a water tap on the wide field; one only crosses your way when you travel back to where the bike stands, proving as dysfunctioning and broken.

And only once you’ve reached nearly the end of the field and already detect the narrow path that you cycled along from afar, your luck strikes. You wash a handful of your harvest and place them neatly at the top of the rest, right above a handkerchief Jungkook whipped out from his pocket.

The grass isn’t high everywhere; you find an ideal spot for a brief, spontaneous picnic, pleasant and comfortable; a fluffy blanket of nature. You watch ladybugs and ants crawl over blades of grass; not too much more, considering the season.

Jungkook works through the content of the basket, soon holding a piece to your mouth, “Take this,” he says, pushing it through your parted lips; waits until you’ve chewn most of it. “And?”

The initial taste is good, but the aftertaste dramatically makes your world quiver. Whatever you’ve known about food and fruits so far must have been a hoax, because you can’t fake the way your eyes widen and your voice raises in pitch, delighted as you say, “This is… so damn good.”

“Right?”

“They don’t taste like this in the city!”

“Yeah,” Jungkook chooses a smaller one from the collection, throwing it into his mouth as a whole, “these are fresh. No bullshit berries.”

“No bullshit berries indeed. So good.”

“You picked good ones!”

“But this is a curse, too!” you exclaim, urging a laugh out of him that he transforms into a kiss to your temple, observing as you munch the strawberries as though encountering them for the first time. And you pout as you say, “ Keep me from eating them all. I want to take the rest home.”

“Sure, don’t worry. We can put them somewhere and take them back on the last day.”

“Hm? Oh. No, I meant today. Home, your house…” You realise your mistake. “Sorry.”

Only, he doesn’t deem it a mistake for a moment. He didn’t think you’d feel this cosy this fast — but it was what he’d hoped and opted for, so it’s a win either way. His family as your home, him as your home.

He thinks, you finally do feel at home. It took you years of endurance, didn’t it?

“Home, yeah?” he mutters. “An apology is the last thing I’d want, angel. You’re home, alright.”

You wish you had an equally meaningful answer; whatever you might babble now, you don’t think you could do justice to the soft tone he settled on. You can’t even outdo his gaze, so round, eyes so big on his otherwise clear-cut face.

What you can do is smile. Draw closer until your shoulders touch. About to taste the strawberry-flavoured, red tinted lips before a sudden motion drowns your plans.

The bunny flits over your feet; you’re sure it jumps onto yours for a moment and then uses them to push itself off into the grass, journeying on. The yelp it elicits out of you merges with the startled sound Jungkook emits.

His elbow lightly hits the side of your breast, and you pull your legs into your chest as self-defence. But it’s gone as fast as it appeared, and barely a second later, you’re watching it hop away, little ears disappearing in the distance.

“Well,” Jungkook breathes, “at least that’s normal. I’ll tell you about my snake encounters later some day.”

A hand on your chest, you exclaim, “Oh my God. You know what?” You calm down your lowkey panting, hand falling back into your lap, “Maybe you were right. We’re home for sure.”

“Oh… yeah?”

“Yeah! Totally looked like you… thought we were back home.”

Jungkook laughs out, head throwing back, and then, amidst his giggle, he throws a “Shut up” at you. The tackle nearly pushes you to the ground before his lips attack your face all over; making out on a countryside field wasn’t on your bucket list, but you sure as hell will add it only to tick it off.

His tongue really does taste like strawberries. His lips are sweet; the hand on your waist careful yet explorative. If the grass wasn’t this cruel, tickling all over your body, you’d probably remain here for the next hour.

Let him strip you bare. Kiss you into the earth. Nobody’s here; you don’t think you’ve ever fantasised of such a moment before, but suddenly, you don’t mind loving him right here.

But maybe he’s fostering the same thoughts as you, pulling back with a little groan when the blades prick his cheeks and closed eyes. Endurance isn’t easy right now; and you have a lot planned for the rest of the day anyway.

So you pull yourself together, and nod when he finally asks, “Wanna go?”

Somehow, it takes you a little longer to get home than it did to reach the field. Perhaps because he’s cycling uphill now, or maybe because the sun is at its zenith, warming the colder day. The comfort makes you want to stay in this moment, have his voice laughing next to your ear.

On a bike swaying when he loses focus, rolling dangerously to tease you on purpose.

And when you get back to his house, you’re greeted with yet another surprise. It’s fluffy and sweet and white like a cloud, living up to its name. A tongue sticks out, tail wiggling, right at the door when Jungkook opens it.

Gureum is small, smiling as far as you’re aware of a dog’s joy. You once heard that upon seeing their owner, the same hormone floods their tiny bodies as a human’s when they fall in love. Gureum must feel much like you do when Jungkook comes home.

You understand.

Understand when Gureum jumps up to Jungkook’s legs, licking his human’s face when your boyfriend picks him up. Jungkook’s voice changes so much that you barely recognise it; you’ve never heard him talk like this. Higher, lovelier, slurred to imitate the language babies speak.

The affection is unfiltered and crystal clear.

Jungkook’s smile brightens until it reaches its maximum, bunny teeth flashing, the laugh erupting so deeply from his chest. Authentic. Eyes nearly closed as he calls Gureum’s name, plays with his face, as if communicating with a child.

Twenty years, and he still thinks of him as his baby. Sometimes, all golden stays.

“Baby,” he says after a while once Gureum has stopped licking his face, introducing, “this is my Gureum.”

You set the basket down next to the door, reaching a careful hand to Gureum’s head; but he’s cooperative. Lets you easily. “Hi Gureum,” you whisper, “nice to finally meet you. You’re so cute!”

“He’s a little sick these days, but,” Jungkook gazes down again, kissing Gureum’s ears. “He gets through it so well, doesn’t he? Yes, he does.”

The laugh is real. The affection is real. Tender and deep-rooted. He smooches him again, and then puts a cheek to his warm fur. You’ve never seen him like this. You’ve never fallen deeper.

“I missed you so much, too, buddy,” he says, “so, so much.”

You swear you see Gureum cuddling into Jungkook’s chest. Doesn’t move even when you’ve settled in the living room, resting from the journey. You’d drafted plans for the rest of today, but it doesn’t seem they’ll separate, and you don’t want them to.

You can wait. Things can wait.

You sit by Jungkook’s side as he pets him, his head soon on your shoulder, one hand in the white fur, the other holding yours. It’s how you remain for a bit.

In hindsight, albeit never having plucked strawberries before, today wasn’t some grand adventure across the world. You didn’t strike a deal at work or fight off some paparazzi hiding in an unexpecting corner. And you didn’t climb a mountain.

But you guess that’s what you craved all your life. Somehow, this is better than any crazy escapade.

The serenity that comes with a mundane moment. A love that consumes you and a love that helps you commit the most casual of acts to memory.

Maybe this is enough. An old couch lightly creaking as you move; a cloud blinking as you caress its head. Surprises to help you experience saccharine afternoons.

You remain for a bit, and then remain a little longer.

Ria came through the door not too long after you’d returned, ready for the evening plans. She’d promised to accompany the two of you to the centre of the town, giving you a tour of the most important and ancient of places.

You learned about the town’s only drapery seamstress and the best flower shop. Much as it so occurs in 70s and 80s movies, you met the son of a mechanic. He told you he’d be inheriting the company one day, and that it was okay because he never intended to leave anyway.

Ria’s eyes suspiciously widened as she spoke to him, and she lingered for a moment longer than you did after your farewell. The guy had forgotten that there was work to do by the time she finally bid him goodbye.

Jungkook’s eyes squinted at the sight, but not even he could hide his endeared smile. Pressed into Ria’s shoulder with a teasing hum.

You rewarded yourself for the day’s many steps with some soft serve in front of the city hall, talking and delivering anecdotes until the sun started setting.

As the evening concludes, you’re the last to appear at dinner. His family is already sitting here, politely waiting and sweetly welcoming once you’ve washed up and hopped into the dining room with a vibrant smile.

You’re in a good mood. Evidently so; the scent of strawberries and the taste of his mouth still linger, and you’re still coming down from the high when you chime, “I’m sorry for being late.”

“Don’t worry about it at all,” his mother assures, “we just sat down.”

“I really wanted to help, though.”

It’s true. His mother has been nothing but the ultimate host. You wanted to prove productive and useful, but then Eun had called to check in on you and delayed your plans.

“Hmm, you know what?” his mother utters, pouring you some Jjamppong. “The wedding isn’t until one, so we could get up earlier and make strawberry jam in the morning? If you’d like.”

The wedding has been in the back of your mind constantly, slowly sneaking to the forefront with an intense nervousness. You’re timid because of how it’ll turn out, how people will perceive you, if they’ll talk to you. How Jungkook will look at you.

How much love might spread; how much certain people might tone down their resentment.

Learning yet another skill such as making jam might just be the best distraction. So you nod wildly, only interrupted when Jungkook asks, “Can I join, too?”

But you change the movements of your head to a shake, jesting about quality time and whatnot until he surrenders, “Alright. Way to shut out the boyfriend and son, I see you.”

“Speaking of food,” you say, pausing, slurping a big bite of noodles; they’re spicier than you’re used to from city restaurants. Better, too. You point your chopsticks to your dinner. “May I have the recipe?”

As his father and brother indulge in their food, acting as quiet listeners, his mother answers, “I’m sure Jungkook has it. I’m offended he never cooked it for you, since they had it a lot growing up.”

“Offended indeed. You learned this?”

“Oh, this?” Jungkook’s eyebrows, hitherto sporting a crease between them — a telltale sign of a well-eating Jeon — relax. “Yeah! I was learning when I was like, what, fifteen?” He seeks approval from his mother, who soon nods. “I fully butchered it when I tried it for the first time.”

Junghyun chuckles. “Even I remember.”

“Yeah, you refused to help!” Jungkook complains, whining when Junghyun hits his brother’s elbow with his own. “And I burned my wrist and had the wound for ages. Couldn’t do much in P.E.”

Much as yesterday, it seems his father hasn’t learned; because as you feared, it’s only now when he melts and intervenes. You almost surmise he’s provoking on purpose when he queries, “When you were fifteen when? I can’t remember any wounds.”

Jungkook scoffs. “Are you telling me I’m making it up again?”

“No, I’m just saying I don’t remember.”

“That’s because you were at work and didn’t pick up my many calls. Mom was sick that week… It's why I wanted to cook and learn at all.” He nods towards his brother. “Junghyun remembers because he went to a friend and then rushed home to bring me to the hospital. None of it sounds familiar to you, does it?”

Jungkook lists and narrates the happening with a flat voice, as if recalling items still left to purchase for tomorrow’s meal. He’s stirring his soup and his father is stirring everyone else’s, uncaring as he responds, “I didn’t know.”

“It’s fine. You probably didn’t care.”

“Nonsense.”

Another, “As much as the last years,” added to the mix, you opt for his hand under the table again, but he pulls away. You’re left dumbfounded, looking at him in surprise. This has never happened before; he’s never been upset in such a way.

As if to signal, “It’s fine. It’s whatever. Let me deal with this.”

But he can’t deal with it; you see the beginning signs of a rising chest and a decreasing appetite. Nobody just plays with the content of such a rich soup for this long; least of all a foodie like him. He’s busy looking at it, propping his elbow on the table.

You stare for a little longer, and then turn back to your food.

It sounds like it’s over. And it’s quiet; maybe you could interrupt with something else, change the course of the conversation. But his father isn’t done yet.

No. You notice everybody else’s irritation when he opens his mouth to speak again. They sigh, forming a line with their lips when he emits a question that leaves even you in disbelief, “Why are you saying this?”

“Come on,” his mother tries, wanting to ease the tension, but Jungkook is faster.

“What? I mean, I don’t know?” he starts, once again an equal amount of fear and annoyance in his voice. “I barely ever hear from you, Dad.” With each word, he grows more daring, at the end of his capacities when he eventually curses, “We live in the same city, for fuck’s sake—”

“Jungkook—” Junghyun interrupts.

“What? It’s true. Even the last hundred times, Mom visited alone. Could’ve at least come over and said Hi to my girlfriend.”

“I’m here now and saying Hi, though,” you try, weakly smiling.

“And he’s here, too. How grand of him.”

Fuck.

“Stop the attitude,” his father warns, “you could’ve come over plenty of times, too.”

“Are you hearing yourself? News flash, I did. I tried to talk to you, too. If I was still fourteen, I’d still be apologising. Oh, or is that what you want? Is it what you want?”

“What are you talking ab—”

“I’m talking about how I really wanted to tell you about a shit ton of things. Like when Nara and I broke up,” amidst the already tense moment, your heart pains for a second, “or when I graduated. Or when I was having a really fucking hard time this summer and needed somebody and then when I fell in love and needed to tell somebody, and… where are you all the time anyway? Who fucking knows — I don’t!”

It worsens and worsens. Crashes and burns; every word splits the air in the room. You don’t know how to save the moment anymore; maybe you’re not supposed to. You can only lend him courage. Perhaps he’s supposed to finally say all this.

But it’s hard to listen.

Because as the waterfall of grief cascades, you hear Jungkook’s voice quiver. He’s about to break. Right here, in front of everybody, you’re about to witness the woe this man inflicted on him all his life.

And you see it; see parts of this very torture when his father reveals who he’s become over the decade. The one Jungkook described to you; empty of empathy and understanding.

Because again, he renders you in shock when he speaks again. Fucking nasty, nitpicking and focusing on only one aspect, attacking somebody’s pride.

“Get a grip over yourself! You graduated in arts — you didn’t conquer the world. And you hold a grudge when—”

“I hold a grudge? I do? You’re the fucking one who shunned a kid because of a mistake and—”

“I do not want to hear about this. Not again.”

As their voices grow, so does your heartbeat. The anxiety is unbearable; you can barely imagine the one spreading through Jungkook’s chest. His face is red, neck hot, veins about to pop. If you could, you’d slap your hands over your ears.

But you can’t listen away; can’t ignore the panic, either.

“Please, stop,” you say, moving, but Jungkook frees himself of your grip again, stands. You attempt again, “Stop it, baby.”

But he won’t listen, mind somewhere else entirely.

“You won’t blame me for shit you did years ago, you can’t—” his father insists, but…

“Oh, fuck off.”

“Watch your mo—”

“Or wha—”

His father’s face, similarly scarlet as his son’s, grows a shade darker at the shameless counter, and his large hand lifts in slow motion for you. Comes down with a thump, intending to slap the wooden table, but hitting the edge of his small kimchi bowl again.

It flies up inches into the air before suddenly rolling off the table, aligning with you and soon falling onto your lower arm with a painful impact. It topples down onto your knee before it meets the ground and shatters into a handful of pieces.

You gasp and shriek, more out of surprise than pain; but Jungkook’s reaction is immediate. He bolts towards you, protecting you from whatever danger might be left. Pulls you off your seat and away from the shards as dead silence befalls the room.

It’s filled with your shaky breaths and the way his mother and brother shove their chairs back, hands reaching for you. Jungkook keeps you out of their reach. Looks at his father for a couple seconds; then to the kimchi on the ground; then back to him.

You can’t see him properly until you move to glance at him, wanting to keep his anger low, but… you don’t think you can do much anymore.

The fire in his eyes is blue.

And his voice is strained but furious when he finalises through gritted teeth, “You are fucking insane.”

This time, the man doesn’t answer. You hear his wife utter something as if scolding him before she speaks up and offers to clean up the mess. But Jungkook shakes his head, “No need. He can do it.”

Then, turning to his father, he repeats, “You’re fucking insane. You’re a terrible parent and we all know and only you can’t admit it to yourself. I just didn’t think you’d develop into a terrible person, too.”

Still long fingers around your wrist, he moves you towards the stairs, rounding off the fight with one more, “Don’t fucking get near me or her, do you understand? Fuck.”

So many words exchanged, but it was the stupid kimchi covering your pyjamas to make him topple over the edge. You feel guilty, but you don’t. It’s the man downstairs that has so fucking much to reflect on.

God. You wanted this vacation to relax Jungkook, to soothe you, to turn the first painful half of the year into something glorious.

But…

Then again, didn’t you expect this? Weren’t you scared of this?

Didn’t you fear the exact manner in which he now leads you to his room, in which the slamming of the door rings in your ears, his hands in his hair?

He’s let you go and stranded in his room. It’s odd, the way you stand here, clothes dirty and the grief dirtier. 

You walk towards him cautiously, watching him shiver, and reach for his wrists in turn this time. It’s a featherlight touch, but you feel the tremble underneath your fingers. And you instantly notice when he starts coming undone. When his lips shake, too.

Even with his head lowered, you recognise the wet waterline, and how it takes a handful more heavy breaths until you hear the first sob. You hug him. You hug him right away. Hold him close and closer.

You make a weak attempt at pulling him to the bed, but he’s already in the process of breaking down, his body getting heavier, falling. The carpet offers solace as his knees suddenly hit the ground. His arms hold onto your hips and his face buries in your chest.

When his breathing turns irregular, so does yours; you feel like the world is splitting and the sky crashing down. 

His leg comes in touch with your messed up clothes, and when he looks up into your eyes, he’s already crying. A trail of tears courses down his cheeks as his pupils suddenly shake, looking for something, asking you, “Did he hurt you, baby?”

“Kook…”

“Let me see, you must be hurt, you— you were just wearing these thin ass slippers without socks, right? The fucking bowl shattered and…”

“I’m okay, Kookie. I’m not hurt, I promise.”

“No, but… it fell on you, it must— did it bruise your knee?” he continues hectically, inspecting you, never seeing anything. He cradles your face, still crying and sniffling, shoving his pain aside to make sure, “Please tell me if anything hurts, ‘kay? I will get something, I’ll— dunno, fucking smash his fucking face, I’ll—”

His mind is going haywire. A proper downward spiral, and you don’t know how to stop it. What the fuck— what the fuck…

“Jungkook— Jungkook, please,” you try, lowering his hand, but he won’t stop searching for signs of injury. “Baby, please.”

“Why is he like this? I just… man, I am trying, angel.” His voice falls at the last word; your heart fractures at the same time as it tries to keep his intact. “I am trying so hard in life for him to like me, and you… you’re here, so I thought he’d behave and instead—”

“I know. It’s okay.”

It’s not, but you can’t say it. Can’t say how much the meaning behind your stained clothes hurts. How much it connects to what the weeping man in your arms feels; how he looked forward to this, planning ahead, a surprise for everyday without anticipating such ruin.

And he’s as clueless as you. More broken than you ever anticipated. Resembling the burst dish one floor beneath you, holding you like an anchor, crying into your chest.

He keeps repeating the same things as you repeat yours, soon mumbling his words of trying and trying and constantly trying. Of wanting to be loved. Attempting to understand if it’s too much to ask for. Is it?

Why can’t he love me?

And you whisper back, He loves you. He does.

It’s easy, falling into such misery. There were moments not too far in the past where you were on the receiving end of such pain, and he was your life vest. You don’t know if you’re keeping him above the surface as well as he did, because you keep susurrating the hopeful mantra to him.

But he keeps believing—

“No… no, he never fucking did. Wh—who treats someone like this?”

“Some people forget, you know… how to show affection. Sometimes, they deem their pride more important. It says nothing about you.” You lift his chin, heartbroken upon detecting his reddened eyes. “Everyone else in this stupid world loves you.”

“Your mother doesn’t either…”

“My mother? The woman who hates literally everyone?” You smile, trying to make him imitate it, but he doesn’t. You brush his cheeks and then his hair. “I do. I love you. I knew who you were even when I was unbiased.”

“Didn’t you… hate me, too?”

Once again, you try a faint smile. Not for him to join in, but because you’re reminded of a foolish friendship; it had already long bloomed into more when you’d finally named it one.

“Not for a second,” you say.

Break in discussion. He’s still shedding tears, snivelling. Stays frozen like this, all of him unable to move except for his lips. They mutter, “I don’t ever want you to get hurt. He can do whatever the fuck he wants with me, but…”

“Yeah. I’m okay. We’re okay.”

“I love you,” he maffles weakly, “I love you. I love you.”

“I know. I love you, too.”

You feel as though offering solace to a child. As if he’s shrunk into what he used to be, in the very room he used to sulk. The trauma still belongs to a kid, and when hurt, he’ll turn him into one, too.

You hate it. Hate that his sorrow still belongs to such a young heart. That he never processed it.

Before you came here, you spoke about it. And once you’re back in the city, you’ll have to figure things out further; the time constraints just before you drove away didn’t allow you to take much into consideration.

You can only cry now, can’t you? Detest the dampness in your own eyes. Stay right here until some sign occurs, lifting you up from the ground.

And it does fifteen minutes later.

The knock is gentle, just two of them, and you tell Jungkook to wait, that you’d be back in a minute. As you stand, his back is bent, his head lowered. As if he’s sleepwalking or slowly fainting.

You shut your eyes for a second; then open them again.

Behind the door, his mother awaits. In her soft hands, she’s balancing a tray holding some food. She lifts it towards you, tells you, “The two of you barely ate.”

Upon a closer look, you realise that her eyes are swollen, too. The view nearly forces you to tear up again, your face seethingly hot. You want to hug her. Want to tell her you’re sorry. Instead, you only touch her shoulder, and mutter a grateful thank you.

“It’s okay.”

She sounds so pained. You wonder if she said something to her husband. Reprimanded him, cried for his son, grieved a childhood and life that could’ve been.

But she doesn’t say any of it, and neither do you mention it. You only agree, “It will be. Are we still making jam tomorrow?”

“Yes. Tell Jungkook he can come if he wants to.”

“Yeah… I was thinking that, too.” You stare down to your food, never noticing how she peeks past your shoulder. Sees her son unmoving on the floor; she knows she can’t do more than you are right now. So she only nods when you repeat, “Thank you so much.”

You wish her a good night, bringing the food to where your boyfriend sits. Put it down in front of him.

“Sit upright, baby?” you ask him, crushed by the sight of swollen cheeks and red-rimmed eyes. His lips are parted, his breathing still stagnant; he only stares at his food until you push the tray closer to him and say, an attempt at a smile, “Let’s eat a bit. Mother-in-law brought it for us.”

No smile back, but a sniffle. The crying subsides just a bit as a shaking hand grabs the spoon, slurping the soup before he can even think of the noodles. He eats a little, slowly, surely. You help when he needs it, feed him a bite, encourage him to one more.

Every other minute, he cries again. You wipe the tears away, try to make him eat more.

His father fucked him up. You knew about the issues and demons Jungkook combatted. Of course his mentality suffered; of course there are parts of him that might never heal… But you never quite understood the full effect. 

His father fucked him up good; got him so bad. Parts of both of them are so ultimately ruptured, aren’t they?

Whenever he winds down, you eat in silence, right there on the ground on top of the old carpet. When he can’t swallow anymore, still some left in his bowl — Jungkook barely ever doesn’t finish his food — you move up to the bed with him.

You kiss his hair repeatedly, as if it could heal him just a little, to even the tiniest percentage. You don’t know how much of an effective bandage you are to him, but you know you’re doing at least something.

Because he whispers another I love you before the gut-wrenching sounds of his sobs have finally faded out, still echoing in the room. His tiny, shrunk voice says, “I’m looking forward to tomorrow with you.”

And somehow, it pains you even more. The hopeful tone; the wish for a day to not hurt.

“Me too, baby,” you say, “it’s nobody but us, okay?”

“Yeah… yeah.”

And that’s it. It’s all you can do for now; understanding the heavy heart the night cursed you with.

But as you drift away, you keep pleading. Pleading and pleading and pleading for a better tomorrow without getting a promise back.

To your chagrin but least of your surprise, Jungkook doesn’t join your jam-making session the next morning.

When you stirred awake for a little bit, eyes still sleep-drunk and body falling, your phone flashed seven thirty in the morning. Not ready to start the day yet and doubting anybody else had gotten out of bed, you cuddled into his body, and he, while deep in his slumber, must still have noticed.

Pulled you in more, smacking his lips and sighing a little, a warm hand at the back of your head. Secured in his embrace, you fell asleep again.

Only to awake two hours later without him by your side. You’re already washed up and somewhat sobered up from sleep, and you’ve looked on the first and ground floor. You can’t find him.

His mother informed you that she and her husband would be leaving to join the wedding earlier, to help out with the preparations and make sure the plans all sit. You offered your help, but she claimed they’d be okay, and that you can still use the morning after the jam lesson to rest.

Perhaps Jungkook has embarked on a journey then, using this time to do something in the early morning. 

Once you’ve walked into the kitchen, greeting his mother with a smile and a good morning, you ask, “Nervous for the wedding?”

“Mmmh, kind of,” she answers, locking the phone she held, putting it aside to sip her tea, “but it should be good since we took care of most of the stuff pretty well. It’ll be wonderful. Except the damn Wedding March — we couldn’t settle on any song but this.”

“I can’t wait. I bet it’ll be beautiful.” You take a seat in front of her, hearing the sounds of the TV and quiet conversations. Among the voices, you recognise two, but his is neither of them. You’re not interested in joining. So you look at her, scratching your temple as you inquire instead, “Where’s Kook gone?”

Her forefinger points downwards, another blow to the tea and another swig. “Basement. I brought him some coffee, but he seemed busy and quiet, so I left him there. But,” her voice grows louder, enthusiastic, “you can go! Maybe he’ll be okay with that?”

Hmm…

“What did he go down for?” you ask.

“I think he was looking for something.” Now, she lowers her tone again, lower arms on the table. “He also just… did that sometimes when he was younger, or after a fight.”

After a fight.

Like the breakdown last night. You understand.

You should probably walk down and check — but then again, this has seemingly been a coping mechanism ever since he was younger. So perhaps, you need to let him be for a little; give him a chance to entangle his thoughts and regain some peace.

You repeat your decision to her and she nods in understanding, throwing a glance to a huge jar on the kitchen counter. You’re ready to deliver an answer before she even asks, “Want to help out then?”

“Sure!”

The process is a patient one. Reminds you of when Jungkook told you how to pick the strawberries yesterday; gently, sweetly, with a tender touch and an even more delicate voice.

Jungkook’s mother takes the fruits out of the jar with care, explains to you to mash them and cook the jam with absolute soothing composure. The minutes pass so serenely that you imagine preparing meals with her on a cold winter evening, pleasing your soul to ensure not only a good night’s sleep but lasting quiet of the soul, too.

You add the sugar and lemon juice to your mix, stirring and boiling the delicatesse before you put it in sterilised jars. She shows you how to sterilise them at all; you didn’t think or know that such a step was necessary at all.

The making of it doesn’t take too long; forty-five minutes tops. As you scanned the internet just before entering the kitchen almost an hour ago, it said it takes barely half an hour. But she demonstrated it all to you slowly, unrushed.

You’re thankful.

“Have you ever made jam before?” she asks as you admire your creation.

You shake your head. “No… I don’t think I’ve tried such a thing at all. It’s fun making things on your own. I mean, I do like to cook sometimes, but I’m nowhere on Jungkook’s level, I don’t think.”

She chuckles, nodding as if to confirm. Then clarifies, “Yes, he’s enjoyed being involved in the kitchen ever since he was a teen. Especially before he left town and realised he’d have to cook on his own.”

You giggle with her, like with a friend or a trusted figure. It’s so consoling, talking to her. Fun, smiles intact, still present when she asks, “How are the two of you doing? I mean, you did move in together quite fast, so I’m just wondering.”

Yes; she doesn’t need to spell it out. You get it — you’ve heard about this.

So-called relationship experts claim that taking decisions in the honeymoon phase isn’t too healthy, warping your sense of reality and perception of the other person. You don’t disagree, but you guess in this case…

“Honestly, it’s been good,” you respond. “We have a couple heated evenings where we argue about stuff, but… it’s been healing. And he offered to move in when I really needed it.”

“Yes, Jungkook told me.” Oh. “You weren’t at a very good place before. Please don’t mind.” You shake your head in reassurance, urging her to go on. It’s his mother; it’s fine to tell her if any of you is struggling. “I’m glad you’re there for each other because he wasn’t at a good place either.”

You nearly don’t dare to ask; in a way, she might know her son better than you know your boyfriend. Maybe; maybe not. You fear a disheartening answer when you ask, “Do you think he is now?”

But she, careful as ever, tells you honestly, “It’ll probably take time to get over things, but— it’ll be okay. Things seem a little better, though, if you want my neutral POV.”

“Ah… okay. That helps.” You play with the white-dotted red band around the jar. Your mind circles around a million questions that only she might be able to answer; yet, cautiously, all you query is, “Do you ever… have you ever spoken to him? Or his dad? About all the things…”

You reckon that if he’s talked about the two of you before, he probably mentioned spilling his secrets to you, too. At least from your perspective, it’s obvious that he entrusts her with his heart.

And once again, she affirms, “I have. Often. Even before the two of you came. It’s why I told you to take your time getting here.”

Ah… Makes sense now. So that’s why you had to roam the hotel until noon a couple days before. You sigh.

She continues, “It just doesn’t end well most of the time, so… And I’m not a good talker. I don’t know what to say anymore after so many years. Both want me on their side, though Jungkook never persists on it.”

She’s so wrong. Both she and him.

Jungkook has told you for months that he’s bad with words; yet, he comes in with every word ever written by any bard, singing poetry to you and bandaging your heart when needed.

You remember…

I’m not good with words, baby. And I don’t know how to ever properly verbalise something like this.

You sigh again. Tell her, “I understand. I also wouldn’t expect you to go against either of them.”

“Sure. But… It's difficult sometimes. Seeing how broken some of our bonds are.”

You’ve used and formed this word so many times before. Broken. For him, for you, for the world. Hearing somebody else share these sentiments and confirm your fears hurts.

And you’re out of words, wishing for a higher power to grant you a curing skill. If you could lift somebody’s burden with a single touch, just the way you’re reaching out for her hand now, you’d be busy circling the globe at all times.

“I’m so sorry,” is all, however, you can offer.

You hate how helpless she is. You urge to say something more, to hug her and promise that the world always regains its colours at some point. But you remain like this, watching the jam in the jars; hearing her say—

“You know. Jungkook has my number. I don’t know how much you and your mother still talk, but… you can talk to me, too, if you ever need to. I mean, I’m a mother.” She laughs at this part, raising a shoulder to her chin in pride, “And you’re part of him, so you can be part of us, too.”

Your eyes, locked onto the jar until now, flit up to her, and you blink to keep them dry, admitting without another thought, “I might actually cry.”

“Oh. Awh,” she voices, lifting her hand from underneath yours to cover it again. “Don’t. I didn’t mean to be all kitsch. I meant it.”

Gathering your prior thoughts into words, you puff out a breath, sporting a reprimanding look as you say, “You’re so wrong. You and your son, you always know what to say.”

Teeth flash again as she grins; she looks so innocent and pure. “Well, where do you think he got it from?”

Shit…

“Thank you…” you mutter, body already twitching, yearning to bolt forwards until you finally dare to ask, “Okay. May I… Can I hug you?”

“My goodness, love. You don’t need to ask! C’mere.”

You instantly tear up when she pulls you in. Last time you met, she left a fleeting touch. You barely knew her then; in some way, you don’t know her much now, either. But this… this is impactful.

The way she presses you into her; her chin on your shoulder. The slight pat and then the following rub up and down your shoulder blade. So warm; so salving.

One or two more pats, with a little more impact this time, she gently moves you back by your arms again, sucking in a breath as she suggests, “Alright. Wedding time, yes? We should start getting ready.”

“Yes. But…” You hesitate, wonder how much you can interfere. But then you diminish your mental concerns, and simply utter, “If you don’t mind. May I suggest something?”

You walk down the steps to the basement.

The light is on; other than what mainstream movies might suggest, they’ve set up the interior of the basement prettily. The few furniture — a table and a couch chair, as well as a couple common chairs — is a light beige, the wallpapers light, flowery.

He’s in the middle of the room, on the ground despite the many options to sit, sifting through pictures and objects lying around him. When he detects you, he flinches a bit, eyes big, moving suspiciously as if to hide something.

But you guess he’s just startled; and once he catches himself, he calls your name, wishing a sweet, “Morning, baby. Sorry for leaving the bed.”

“Oh, hey. It’s your house, you can do whatever you like. Besides, your mom and I had the time of our lives.”

He smiles brightly. You love, love, the wrinkles around his eyes. “Made some groundbreaking jam, yes?”

“You’ll see when you taste it.” You walk closer, recognising photo albums and frames. Yet, you ask, “What are you doing?”

“Uhmmm, just looking through old stuff.”

The pictures are flipped, upside down from where you stand, so you round his body, legs folded on the floor. You come to a kneel, and just when you’re close enough, you see the pure sugar spilled in front of him.

It’s in the form of fat baby cheeks. An open, surprised mouth. Then, in form of a photograph of a toddler crying. The same tremendous eyes and the same curve of his upper lip. A tilted smirk on one of them, just the one you know.

They’re adorable. You dissolve at the sight; at seeing him in a red vest, holding a half chewn corndog, tiny fingers forming a peace sign, and an unsure expression as if he’s seeing the world for the first time.

He does this often. Zone off like this.

Not rarely do you tease that he’s trudging through his first life, but he often refutes your theory with an immediate expression of shock. Chuckles back that it never feels like he’s loving you for the first time.

“Why are you looking at these, Kook?” you ask, hands on his shoulder before you settle your chin on one of them, cheek to cheek.

“Just so. I knew there was a picture of my cousin somewhere, too. Look.” He shoves aside some of the photographs on top, fishing out a very old one. “This is her. Gayoung.”

A lovely girl next to him, clearly older. They’re both holding car toys; he’s busy indulging in it, laughing, not noticing the flashing of the camera. But she’s staring right into it, caught off guard, eyebrows high and mouth open.

“I can’t believe she’s getting married today,” Jungkook says. “She’s like a daughter to my parents, but… I didn’t get to talk that much with her anymore when she grew into an adult. Was more with Ria. And then I moved, too. But… it’s still crazy. I still remember her as a young but older sister.”

“Of course. Time’s pace of passing is pretty strange. Very fast.”

“Yeah…”

He throws it back into the pile, shutting two of the handful of photo albums. Humming, he flips a couple pages of a third album; your eyes follow as he combs through them. You almost don’t notice when he pauses, and when you do, you understand why.

It’s another old picture, Jungkook tiny, mouth wide open to say something as he points towards the camera slash photographer. And he’s in the arms of somebody who’s undeniably his father. The man looks more like Junghyun than Jungkook.

But they seem happy here. His big hands are firm on Jungkook’s body, holding him lovingly and smiling at him with even further tenderness.

Jungkook remains on it for only a split second, but you get it.

You replay his mother’s words in your mind, and suddenly, you remember; a revelation clears up like a sunny day after a fog, and God… you remember.

And still, you act like you don’t. Like you haven’t understood that he’s here to reminisce about a life when things were still okay; when he still felt loved. Reliving moments when shit hurt less. Of course he’s here; it makes sense, so directly after a fight.

He seeks comfort in moments he barely remembers to escape the pain he recently suffered.

You’re out of damn words. This shouldn’t be happening to anybody.

You hug him from behind, arms around his chest. Attempting to ease his possibly disturbed soul, you ask, “Hey. Do you know that you’re the sweetest being alive? These pictures cause cavities. Good that you kept them from me.”

“Oh, yeah?” He turns his head slightly, lips grazing your nose, warm breath falling on it. “Coming from my munchkin herself.”

“I mean it! You’re so cute. And look at these cheeks,” your finger gestures towards a chubby baby, “they’re still so soft, by the way.”

You press your face against his, squishing his scarred cheek, and he states under a laugh, “You’re too much.”

“Too much of a fool for you, yes.”

He clicks his tongue, though playfully. You hear in his voice and see in his beam that he’s delighted, flattered, loving and loved. You ask, “Are you feeling okay now?”

To your relief, he nods. “I’m feeling better, I guess. Looking forward to the wedding. And your dress!”

“Oh, I am, too. I was going to show it to your mom just before, but… I want you to be the first to see it.”

“And then you say I’m not the luckiest man alive.”

“I just said Ashton Kutcher is. Mila Kunis is pretty cool.”

“Shut up.”

You pause, watch him tidy up; after a minute, you tell him, “You should’ve joined when we made the jam. Could’ve been fun, too.”

“Yeah… I mean I thought about it, but. Then I was like, maybe it’d be good for her to get to know you, like, unfiltered. She’s always careful not to be weird around me.”

“Ah. That’s kinda sweet, though.”

“Isn’t it?”

You nod against his cheek; then, drum lightly against his chest, a peck to his ear, getting to your feet a second later as you ask, “So… are you coming up? It’s a little after eleven. We should probably get ready soon.”

“Yeah, I’ll be up in some. You should go first, though. I’ll need a bit less time.”

You’re already taking steps towards the staircase leading up, but you can’t refrain from throwing one last tease, “You sure? Not sure with your skincare routine. Have you even eaten?”

“Yes, I did. Don’t be a brat.”

You lift your lips to a last provoking, tight-lipped smile before you ascend to his room. The dress is still almost flawless between your clothes. You heavily worried about damage in the few days you travelled, but aside from a few spots that need to be ironed out, it’s as gorgeous as ever.

Flattening out the creases with a borrowed iron, you soon rummage in your suitcase for the curling iron and the rest of your make up. You look at the mess scattered on Jungkook’s table, wondering where to start.

Make up, probably.

Okay. you have one, two chances max to try what you want to achieve. The goal is to remain casual, natural and humble; considering your dress, you cannot overdo it. You don’t want to look excessively over the top. Want to keep your essence under the make up.

So you keep it lowkey, pretty much content with the results before you slip into the dress.

And when you look into the mirror, you nearly squeal. You don’t struggle with your appearance. But while you’ve largely been satisfied with how you look, you did occasionally find things to possibly improve.

Normal. Doesn’t everyone deem certain spots flaws, regardless of whether they actually are?

But today… today you’re sparkling. You’re happy; in love with what you accomplished.

If you could, you’d immediately rush down to him again, show you the results. But it seems you don’t need to — because half a minute later, you make out his voice outside. He’s talking to his brother, laughing about something; seems the rest of the family is leaving. The door shuts just before you hear him moving up the stairs with quick steps.

And… when he finally opens the ajar door to his own room, his body locks at the spot, as if somebody screwed his feet into the wooden floor.

The reaction is easily imagined; most often seen on TV. You didn’t know how real it was, but then again, clichés always have an origin in real life, don’t they?

You’re surprised, a little shy by how he looks at you. And how he looks in general — black trousers hugging his snatched waist and well-formed hips. The white dress shirt is still in progress, collars up, suit jacket not yet on.

And he’s olding something in his hand that you can’t recognise.

He looks breathtaking and mesmerising, despite missing half of the preparation still. Fuck… fuck, fuck, fuck.

Does he feel the same about you? Probably.

Because he curses, “What the fuck.”

Like a statement, not a question. You touch the silky soft material of your dress, widening your eyes as your quiet voice asks, “What?”

“What are you even?”

You burst out into a brief, fleeting laugh at the question, repeating, “What I am?”

“Like, a fairy or something. Shit, it’s as if I’m getting married.”

Another near-squeak falls out of you. But you can’t blame him this time; you chose this attire carefully.

The sheer chiffon fabric, light and airy, sparkling; it called your name the moment you saw it. Floor length, lavender, spilling to the floor like a waterfall; a spicy slit on the side that Jungkook’s eyes remained on for just a tiny heartbeat longer, you know.

And off-the-shoulder sleeves; most of the back bare.

Sheepishly, you ask, “So you like it?”

“Like, I—” he starts, yet stops. He blows a raspberry. “You’re so pretty. You’re the prettiest. Oh my God,” he exclaims, dramatically touching his forehead, “I need to keep other’s eyes off you. Look at you!”

You laugh out loud, a hand on his wrist to keep your balance, no other productive response in your bright pink entangled mind than, “Babe—”

“No, seriously. Okay, I concur. It was right for me to wait to see you in the dress. Getting a heart attack as we speak.”

Your cheeks still glow brightly when you wiggle a finger at him, disappointed that there is no reality show camera pointing at you to hear you say, “If your boyfriend doesn’t react like this, girl, you don’t want him.”

You instinctively move to the buttons of his sleeve, helping out, resisting the urge to give in and fix his collar, too. You want to see the end result so badly, but he’s still missing the tie and the jacket. 

So you settle on merely touching the buttons over his chest, nodding as if approving before you say, “You already look so good, too. You know, maybe it’s you who should hide behind me today. What if some middle school girl crushing on you jumps you?”

He chuckles. “They can try.”

“They? Well, shit.”

“I’m kidding.” He lowers his chin, bringing your knuckles to his rosy lips, kissing one or two of them. “Hide me, then.”

“Mhm… Do you need help getting ready? With the tie or something?”

“Oh, it’s okay. You can lean back for a bit, tell me a story or something? I shouldn’t take too long.”

It’s a ritual of sorts. Sometimes, when you wait for the other on a date or dinner night, the faster one acts as the night’s entertainer. Sings songs or tells stories or plays DJ or serves the latest, hottest work tea.

You tell him, “Okay. But before I do,” your hand wanders down to his; it’s stubbornly closed around an object, dangling on his side. You uncurl his fingers. “What’s that you got there?”

“Oh, I…” He comes to life, as if he forgot that he was holding it at all. He lifts it between your faces, straightening his palm, and presents you something incredibly sparkly and nostalgic. “It’s part of the reason I went down at all. With my mom’s permission since she wore it at her prom…”

Damn it. Both of them deceived you.

“You were looking for it?” He nods; your heartbeat accelerates as you urge, “And…”

“And I got it for you.”

Words, you notice, are only your specialty when you’re jotting them down and narrating a story from within your mind. When it comes to answering to the grand gestures he always makes you fall in love with, you’re such a zero.

Odd, considering how he, in contrast, has claimed over and over again that he’s not as eloquent as he’d like to be. But you’ve long figured out that if he was to preach the truths he holds in his heart to an audience, the stage would drown in a flood of tears within minutes.

You reach for the shiny, pearly, flowery accessory. It’s rose-gold, a little vintage, clearly older, and so strikingly beautiful. It looks like…

“A comb… for me,” you say. Not the one to untangle your hair. The decorative type; fancy and gorgeous. He nods again, lets you take it between your fingers. “Why?”

“Just,” a shrug of his shoulder, “I wanted to give you a little something to remind you of this place and the love you got here. Besides, it’d look so pretty on you.”

A reminder that you’re loved. You wonder — who thinks of these things? Does anyone else in this universe heat up their girl’s chest like your boyfriend does?

They can tell you what they want; you’re the luckiest being alive. And in return, you want to love him as much as nobody has ever loved before.

You whisper, “Thank you, Kook… Your mom is okay with this?” Another enthusiastic nod of confirmation. “Thank you so much. I— I wish you could see yourself the same way.” You squeeze it in your hand to feel it properly, then open it again. “This is so pretty.”

“It’ll suit you.”

“Yes?” Softly, you hand it back to him, turning to the mirror, with him right behind you. “Do you want to put it in?”

“Ah… I can try.”

“Right there?” You point to the back of your head; to the braid in your loose half updo. “Near the hair pins I used. The comb might hide them well, too.”

And he does his best. Regards your hairdo focused, eyebrows knitting in concentration, so gentle with it. No getting stuck, no intentional tugging.

“Wait,” he then says, tapping his trouser’s pocket, and then fishes out his phone for a picture. He shows it to you; the accessory sits there perfectly, not crooked or ruining a single wisp of hair. “How’s that?”

“You did it so well. Thank you, Koo.” You face him again, smile bright and endless. “Your turn?”

“Yes.” He rubs his hands, looking around. “Let’s get this over with. Give me feedback, okay? And tell me a story?”

You take a seat at the edge of his bed prettily, coming up with a short tale about personified instruments and what they’d symbolise. The guitar for the heart and the love in it, the drums for thunder and the excited pulse of the soul.

“The flute for the breeze and dreams?” Jungkook adds.

And you urge in a thrilled tone, “And the violin for the rain and longing. They’d learn from each other, right?” You sigh. “I’ll think about the piano, too. Can’t figure it out yet… it could be a lot.”

Jungkook nods, distracted and interrupting the story when he asks for brief comments on his progress. Barely any feedback, though; praises largely.

You watch as he slips into the rest of his clothing and gels his hair back — it’s grown quite a bit since the press conference in September. You get to your feet, amped up when he finally claps and rubs his hands in anticipation a bit later, announcing that he’s ready to leave.

And you’re still euphoric when you jump into your car, letting him drive through the streets he knows much better. His fingers wander to the passenger seat every now and then; minutes after the last scolding, you keep reminding him to keep his hands on the wheel.

I want to kiss you so bad, but your damn make up won’t let me today, huh?

A tease here, a flirt there.

You feel like you could do anything. The sky's the limit. And it soon proves that the statement has never rang truer, even if in a vastly different context now.

Because once you reach the wedding — your metaphorical sky —, Ria is already standing at the parking lot, waving the moment she spots the two of you stepping out of the car. From afar, you already see the wedding’s venue; a lake in the back, a huge tent and a field at the front.

The parking lot right next to it, but still a couple minutes of a trek away.

Ria’s parents indulge Jungkook in a conversation about something you barely register right away, and she gestures towards herself, hugging and greeting you with an odd half-smile.

“You look so pretty,” she says, and you beam benignly, returning the compliment.

She’s rocking a dark blue dress, sleeveless, her hair in a loose bun. Wavy strands frame her face. But somehow, she looks demotivated. Worried to the slightest, though still mostly cheerful. So you ask, “Are you okay?”

“Yeah! I just wanted to tell you something. But don’t freak out, okay?”

Well, shit. Doesn’t start as you imagined, does it? You glimpse over to Jungkook. He’s laughing from the heart, button nose crunched; why is she not telling him, too?

Your chest feels tighter; the usual human response to a menacing statement such as hers. You upright yourself, take a deep breath, ground yourself as you encourage, “Yes? I won’t. What’s up?”

“Well… we’re in this town and like, people know each other. And since we’re all in a very close circle here, I just wanted to say that,” her face changes; she kind of grimaces, as if apologetic for something, “Nara came, too.”

Ah.

Ah…

The sky's the limit, and you reached it, and now you’re kind of crashing.

Well. You never thought about this; but it makes perfect sense, doesn’t it? Of course she’d be here. She was part of this town and Jungkook’s life for so many years, so naturally, she’d be familiar with his relatives, too.

Besides, even if she hadn’t been with him… Didn’t Jungkook and Ria already establish with you just yesterday, when you were inhaling your ice cream, that this small town strives on familiarity?

Meetings at the town hall, the shop owners’ affection for most of their year-long customers. The Stars Hollow vibe you already recognised.

Ahhh…

So that’s what Junghyun might have been trying to tell you on the first day, too. You remember his mother interrupting.

How annoying. You did not want to feel annoyed. Maybe it would’ve been better if Ria hadn’t told you; if you’d bumped into Nara randomly and suffered the temporary heart attack. Or perhaps, you wouldn’t have seen her at all…

Come on. Unrealistic.

Fuck, you feel childish. There shouldn’t be any burning in your chest or an uncomfortable warmth in your cheek. You shouldn’t be feeling the urge to run over to Jungkook, to actually hide him behind you.

To rush to his ear, whisper your worries, make him promise that he only loves you and won’t ride into the sunset with her.

Delusional, paranoid concerns that you wouldn’t entertain on any normal, sane day; then again, the news Ria delivered wasn’t going to leave you unbothered anyway. This whole thing around exes really sucks.

“I… I shouldn’t spiral, though, right?” you answer, your voice a little weaker. Ria immediately nods, though still not relaxing the wrinkle between her eyebrows. “I mean, of course she’d be here. This is her place, she was born here and…”

Ria takes your hands in hers, assures, “I promise you it’s nothing too bad, okay? Nara and Jungkook have been here at the same time before and literally nothing happened.”

What? When?

“When?” you echo.

“Uh, like last summer? He only came down for a couple days, though. College exams and stuff.”

Ah… you wouldn’t even know. Back then, you’d only encountered him once, at the blurry frat party that you spent in locked rooms and on tiled roofs. When you sang together and spilled your hearts to each other.

For the very first time.

Whatever he did before or after that… how would you know?

Only, you feel even sicker at the thought that after that party, and after he allegedly met Nara here again without anything literally happening, he still linked with her back in the city. Still shared his nights and sheets with her.

Does this count as nothing happening? What if the time here evoked something? What if it happens again?

Fuck, what if it happens again?

“I’m going to panic,” you tell Ria.

“What? No,” she exclaims, though instantly lowering her voice, rubbing your arm soothingly, “it’s okay, I promise. He didn’t even think of it. Either that or he doesn’t care ‘cause he didn’t mention her once.”

“But now I might keep thinking about it.”

“Seriously. Fuck, I feel bad for saying it—”

“No… no, it’s okay. You should’ve.”

“Okay, look. It’s honestly fine. She’s nice, she won’t do anything shady; not if she knows about y’all.” Another caressing touch to your shoulder. “I just wanted to warn you. Please don’t feel startled. I’m here, okay? I’ll smash his nose if anything happens.”

She looks to the side. The other conversation has seemingly ended, too, and you swallow as Ria’s parents wave her over. She says, “Okay. Gotta go, but I’ll meet you guys inside and reserve seats, okay? There’s just limited assigned seating.”

She pats your coat-clad arm, and then walks away. 

Well. Okay.

You guess you’ll have to get over this one way or another. You focus on your clothing. Focus on how you look, how Jungkook looks. The weather, the tent many many feet away. Your boyfriend’s gaze on you as he walks back to you, offering his hand.

He pauses when he sees you, asking, “Is everything okay?”

“Hm?” you hum. “Yes. Just nervous, I think.”

“Me too.” He flashes the sweetest grin known to mankind, genuinely excited, childlike joy. Tilts his head at you. “You seriously look so fucking pretty. Like really, really.”

You smile.

Okay…

It should be alright. Jeon Jungkook is so in love with you; damn it, he even peels your oranges for you when you don’t feel like doing it. You need to trust the process; need to hold onto your excitement.

Okay.

You glance at the event warming up in the far. Halfway through, people have gathered, standing on the grass or the man-made path. There’s still a bit of time; so naturally, they’re still busying themselves with conversations.

Breathe in. Breathe out.

You’ve met her before. This isn’t different.

You look down to where his and your fingers intertwine; put particular attention to the way he holds you. Firmly, as if protecting and loving and keeping you close at the same time.

His smile lifts your spirits a little, the wind enclosing your mind and easing it. You nod only slightly, telling yourself it’ll all be good — and then, let him tug you towards the wedding.

The wedding is as bustling as you expected. It’s bright, colourful, flowers draped over the place in abundance. Even before you enter it, the huge tent leaves you breathless, gasping.

They put so much effort into this; it’s clear as day. Jungkook’s mother isn’t around, but the moment you lay your eyes on her again, you’ll praise her for what she helped mount. Somehow, the beauty nearly makes you forget that you’re among pure strangers.

But that at least one familiar face is roaming here somewhere.

You take a deep breath.

All these people know each other. They probably grew up together, know the ins and outs of the town, have gathered at weddings and funerals and school events. You don’t know how well you’ll be able to integrate, but you do hope for their support.

It’s not too much to ask, you reckon.

At least not when Jungkook pulls at your hand and the two of you into certain directions, coming to a stand multiple times when he sees a person or two calling him to them. Some are old school friends; some adults he knew when he was a child.

Candy store owners. Somebody who sold him his first scooter. Or a pal he used to share his banana milk with.

The sentiments are clearly there and they bask in them, but none of them ever forgets about you. Jungkook introduces you, tugs you into his side, enskies you with praise. And they respond with kindness and interest; tell you he’s mentioned you before.

You remember. Jungkook told you how his friends spoke about you or saw you on TV, eager to meet you — they react according to the excitement he foretold, and you reciprocate it with ease. Very sweet.

Yet, it seems that even in a small town, or especially in a small town, enmity runs just as deep as affection. Some people remember friendships, others still resent rotten memories.

You soon meet the first one of the latter kind.

He’s standing near the entrance of the spacious tent; you glance inside, unsuspecting, not a single familiar face in sight. You don’t notice him until Jungkook does, coming to a stand, walk interrupted as the guy exclaims, “Jeon Jungkook! My goodness, Jungkook—”

You meet thick eyebrows, long-ish dark hair, full lips. He’s handsome, his smile bright. 

And his voice is mellow and sweet, and at certain tones, it reminds you of Jimin’s; then again, some syllables come out much deeper. You don’t know who he is; of the pictures Jungkook has shown you, he wasn’t in any of them.

“Hey,” Jungkook greets, somewhat distant. You don’t think standing here is his first choice, but your boyfriend is as polite as can be. Even waves towards the guy, and tells you, “This is Christian. Barom, but he lives in Australia now, so.”

“Hi,” you reach out a hand, “nice to meet you.”

The accent is heavy and somehow cursive when he responds, “Likewise.”

Jungkook is definitely not delighted about him. Follows the touch of your hands, then your gaze up to Christian’s face. You notice it before Jungkook can probably even think of it: the odd look the stranger throws at you.

Up and down. Smile telling. Uncomfortable.

And when Jungkook suddenly does catch it, he intervenes, “You came all the way from Sydney?”

“Yep. And you came over from the city?”

“Yeah,” Jungkook answers. You barely register it, but you’re certain he’s been pushing you behind him inch by inch; but you remain at your spot. You can deal with this. “We were on vacation before, but I was gonna come anyway.”

“Nice. And wait, sorry, you were…?”

You recall never introducing yourself; but you’re positive he’s figured out your relationship to Jungkook just by the steadfast grip around your palm. But Jungkook still officially voices your name and informs him, “My girlfriend.”

Christian must be seeing or hearing something you aren’t — strange since it was him who asked — but he laughs, teasing, “You’re being defensive.”

“I’m not. I literally just told you she’s my girlfriend.”

“Lucky. You look pretty together.”

“Yeah. Thanks.”

You have not a single clue what’s going on. Jungkook is never really rude, so there must be something about this Barom or Christian — he’s never mentioned him before.

Then again, you guess growing up in a tight space comes with all sorts of relationships. Christian is probably the sort that never earns a mention until actually met with the person themselves.

It’s funny though — in some way, the rejection seems one-sided. As if Jungkook is still holding something against him and Christian remains uncaring; while it might not be a universal truth, you’ve experienced that those utterly calm are often the ones at fault.

And Jungkook isn’t an angry human being. He’s kind. Patient. Needs a reason to be mad.

Christian doesn’t take the hint when he smiles, a heavily tattooed hand patting Jungkook on his shoulder as he suggests, “See you later then? Let’s take a picture or get a drink afterwards.”

Jungkook only stalls for the tiniest seconds, but you know him — he’s probably already made up his mind. You look between the men, baffled by the nearly visible bolts shooting from one pair of eyes to the other.

“Sure,” Jungkook eventually says, your hand still in his, and works on moving to the coat check and then to the chairs without adding anything else.

You don’t inquire yet what this was about as you walk, catching glimpses of the priest, of the stranger guests and of the people lingering at the front of the tent. You’re busy gauging Jungkook’s eyebrows, observing as they relax more the further he gets away from the guy.

And neither do you need to pop the question when you’ve settled somewhere in the middle-ish, you on his right side, Ria on the other. Next to her, her parents that you briefly met when you brought her home yesterday.

Previously turned on her seat, she now uprights her body, hooking her arm with Jungkook’s as she whispers to him, yet clearly enough for you to hear, “Was that Yu Barom?”

Jungkook nods. “Christian Yu now. Yup.”

“Right.”

They nod, understanding each other wordlessly, but you’re still floating in between a couple theories and the actual sentiments. So you lean in; you’ve become one of the gossipers at a wedding, you guess.

“Okay,” you start; the two of them stare at you with the same big puppy eyes. “You don’t seem to like him.”

“Oh, we don’t,” Jungkook bluntly admits.

“Why?”

Jungkook smacks his lips. Eyes drift to the roof of the tent, the polyester fabric swaying in the gust. Then, they shift to his cousin, presumably seeking approval, because she shrugs her shoulders, gesturing with her hand and says, “Oh, go ahead.”

So he explains, “His little cousin was a constant problem for Ria. Same age… harassed her and all. Constant flirting and phone calls and didn’t take the hint, just an uncomfortable dude in general.” He pauses, shaking his head. “I had to threaten him for him to get lost. And Christian didn’t like that.”

Okay, now you definitely feel like somebody indulging in tittle-tattle. Some more and you’ll be one of the aunties. Your mouth gradually opens as he speaks, and you emphasise, “No way.”

“It’s true— the guy was on a break from college for just a month and decided to argue with a fifteen-year-old.”

“What? Did you get into a fight with him?”

“Nah.” He pauses when a group of random three girls in green dresses walks along the aisle, even though they’re barely facing you, sending a perfumed breeze towards you. Then, “Not a physical one. But it was a bit messy. Didn’t like that night.”

“Me neither,” Ria confirms.

Of course he didn’t like it.

He’s largely non-confrontational. You’ve learned this much in the time you’ve known him, and have given the fact utmost sense ever since he revealed his innermost fears. Jungkook keeps quiet; he dreads repetitions of a direful past.

Yet, initiating and risking a conflict for his baby cousin increases the respect you harbour for him.

People are cruel; but Jeon Jungkook is good-hearted to his core, no matter how flawed.

You touch the back of his hand, caressing it when he says, “Stay with me tonight, okay? And if you can’t, then do come to me when he nears you.”

“Okay.”

His eyes meet yours, concerned but also suspiciously fiery when he states, “Because like, I really didn’t like how he was looking at you.”

Ah…

“Hm?”

“You didn’t notice?” he asks, his voice higher, thick eyebrows closing into each other again. You lift a thumb, clearing the crease and his stress. “I almost plucked his eyes out.”

Of course you noticed. You just didn’t think it irritated Jungkook to this point.

“Oh— Kook—”

“No seriously,” he stresses, turning his hand to get ahold of two of your fingers, “guy was sweet half his life and then tried stuff with so many girls. I wouldn’t be surprised if he approached you again, so please stay away from him, okay?”

“Yes, baby. But I wouldn’t let him do shit anyway. Don’t worry.” You nudge his shoulder. “And don’t be jealous. Have you seen yourself?”

He rolls his eyes at the accusation, but there’s a sliver of a smile on his face and relief in his gaze. You guess hearing you say it does wonders to him; sometimes, you truly praise the connection between you, based on a clear foundation of trust and communication.

Well… at least now.

“I’m not jealous,” he insists, “it was just gross how he looked at you. Fuck this. Not with my girl.”

You can’t help but break into a chuckle, way too loud for your row. You slap a hand over your mouth, careful not to ruin the lipstick, and nearly give into the urge to release his pout. But it’s too sweet — it can linger for a second.

Removing your hand, you near him until your mouth grazes his, assuring, “I love you,” before you peck his lips curtly. He still looks a little grumpy, though. Your man. “It’s okay, baby.”

The grip around your hand intensifies. It doesn’t seem it will vanish for the rest of the night. You sure hope it doesn’t.

And you’re immensely grateful for the luck you’re enjoying. Not only because of this place’s beauty and the palm holding onto yours — but you haven’t seen Nara either. In fact, you become hyper aware of how much you’ve been thinking of her.

Like; what is she wearing? How is she doing? Is she thinking about Jungkook; expecting him here; feeling a sort of way? Is she imagining his smile and how she saw it in this very town so many times, dedicated to her?

And did Christian ever flirt with her, too? Did it irritate Jungkook?

You’ve been thinking it all dead.

Unnecessarily so if Jungkook hasn’t even mentioned her, never sought her out. Instead, he’s busy protecting his girl from past bullies.

In all honesty, you’ll probably cross ways with her still. The guest list isn’t endless; the place vast but not infinite.

But for now, you forget about her, trashing all thoughts and possibilities. Shake your head. Breathe it out. Relieve your chest.

You diverge into conversations about anything and everything, reminiscing about yesterday and the places you saw. Listen into stories Ria and Jungkook tell: about injuries, about pleasant nights and about the fights they had.

Ria was like the sister Jungkook never had; Junghyun was a good older brother, but when seeking another opinion, she was on speed dial. Sometimes, growing up in a certain environment makes all the difference — hearing a girl’s thoughts at all times might have made Jungkook the way he is.

Thoughtful, respectful. You have encountered sexism a million times — not to mention just minutes ago, checked out so shamelessly — but you don’t think Jungkook has such a notion even in any crevice of his heart.

You’re fond and happy when they laugh together; her crinkles match his. Their laugh contagious.

It still echoes and fades, slowly and lovingly when the tent quietens. All heads turn, but you don’t see much from here. Maybe a couple moving bodies at the entrance. Someone coughs, interrupting the silence and lowering their head, and the moment allows you a peek at the sensation.

The bride is waiting, holding a bouquet. Her father is touching her veil to fix it despite having nothing to fix; but she doesn’t notice.

Gayoung is glancing ahead, breathing in. Everyone’s eyes remain on her, but your head turns to follow her eyes. The groom is already standing there in a standard groomesque position, hands folded, upright like a post.

He looks insanely nervous. His shiny boot taps the ground, lips parting and unparting. And he’s blinking; then forming a circle with his mouth, releasing the pent-up tension.

She hasn’t moved yet. The ceremony is yet to begin.

But even before all that, as people indulge in the sight and wait for their eternity to start, Jungkook has already mimicked your turn, fingers still intertwined. When he speaks, you flinch; you didn’t notice his voice this close.

He’s looking at the groom, too, before he settles his gaze on you. Stares with affection in his gems that bursts your heart, splinters your ribs and implodes your chest. You know he’ll say something to fade out the entire crowd before he actually says it.

“Can I tell you something mainstream?”

You hum, “Hm?”

He regards your digits, plays with them. “If you ever choose to marry me…” Your heart stops. “I’ll look just as tense as him.”

“Would you… want to marry me one day?”

“It’s just a thing people do, right?” he questions. “Whether it’s like this or in any other way— I’ll spend my life with you anyhow.”

I’ll spend my life with you.

Not a question. Not a need.

But a confession. A goal. A plan. 

You don’t get to answer when the first tunes of a guitar play. It’s a song you recognise; paints a smile onto your face. The melody is soft, slow, so gentle. They didn’t choose an orchestral track or the usual Wedding March after all.

It’s a song.

Jungkook’s eyes blow wide, and he immediately seeks yours. Mutters into your ear, “Do I know this?”

“You probably do.”

“Wait—” He listens in. Pupils roll up as he ponders. Then, “Didn’t someone sing this in the lobby this week?”

Almost. It’s why it delights you so. You already had half an idea back then, and you managed to somehow incorporate it into this wedding without really being part of these people.

“Yoongi played it on the guitar,” you clarify, “I suggested it to your mom this morning. I guess she liked it enough to forward the request so spontaneously.”

“You did? Then she must’ve…”

You can’t decipher what he’s thinking. His stare is fixated on the passing bride, her slow steps, the beam she wears as she nears whom she’s decided to be the rest of her life.

You can’t peep into his brain, but you notice when he tilts his head. See the tiny gap between his lips and the way he catches the groom blink away tears the moment you do, because Jungkook smiles at just the same moment as you do.

Gayoung lowers her head when she comes to a stand in front of his still-fiancé, and then delivers the most magnificent, most mesmerising grin. She’s happy, you know. You don’t think you’ve seen this intensity of joy a lot of times in your life.

You recognised it when Jungkook woke up still in your bed after the blue night. When he opened up to you, vowed to stay, brought you to his home. When you announced to the world that you’d be his to remain, that you’d do what you enjoy.

When you got home that evening, and he kissed you right against the door, deemed you crazy, deemed you his.

You haven’t seen this very happiness much in your life, but you’ve seen it in him. And you’ve felt it in your chest. Growing, blossoming, never wilting.

The couple at the front speaks its vows like a song. The words are melodic, poetic, and you’re almost entirely sure that they’re not rehearsed. It’s all real. The love in them and the memories in them, accompanied by the liquid bliss swimming in his and her waterline.

No, you haven’t experienced this too many times before. You’ve felt it. He’s felt it.

And you don’t need to know much more than this; don’t need to know what he’s thinking to understand what he means when he says—

“This… this is it.”

THE CHAPTER ISN'T OVER YET!! PLS READ 👇🏼

1k block limit as always!! you can read the second half of the chapter in this reblog!! the reblog begins with a new scene <3

[frenchkisstheabyss]

♡ ｓｗｅｅｔ ｎｏｔｈｉｎｇ ♡

♡ Pairing: tattoo artist!ex boyfriend!chan x chubby!fem!tattoo artist!reader, best friend!stray kids

♡ Genre: angst/smut/fluff

♡ Summary: After a year abroad spent perfecting your craft, you decide to return to the shop that you started at to reconnect with the people you love but how will your friends react to your sudden return? And how will your ex feel when he finds out your back in town attempting to reclaim your place in his shop and maybe even his heart?

♡ Word Count: 5.8k-ish

♡ Warnings: chan's really down bad for you and the littlest bit posessive, strong language, unprotected sex, penetrative sex, male masturbation, creampie, oral sex (m&f receiving), overstimulation, a lil nipple play, orgasm control if you squint, pet names (beautiful, pretty, baby), a lil hair pulling, and that's about it.

♡ A/N: So somehow I've written myself into a series of sorts all taking place in one tattoo shop. Seungmin's here if you'd like to read it. I'll for sure be doing one for all of the boys because why not? This one's a lot more angsty than the other one but I had a nice time writing something different so, as always, I hope you enjoy it, babes.

You stand with your back to the night, casting your starry eyed gaze upon the soft white glow of the neon sign that hangs overhead. It reads Social Path Tattoos & Piercings. This place isn’t new to you, even if the nerves rattling through your system might imply otherwise.

You’re more than familiar with it. You used to spend every waking moment in this place. Even slept here a couple times when you were a bit too tipsy to drive. And coming back to it after a year overseas is surreal. You dreamed of this a thousand times before finally biting the bullet and hopping on the next plane back here. Back home. 

You made it. Through the chaos of the airport, racing through crowds to make it to the Uber you may have called a little too soon. Through an hour of bumper to bumper traffic, listening to your driver give you dating advice you definitely didn’t ask for. Through a hell of a check in process at the hotel and lugging half your life up to the 8th floor of the lavish building.

You survived all of that to make it to this moment and you can’t even bring yourself to step inside. What if you aren’t welcome? What if the men you once called “family” consider you nothing more than a stranger now? It’s only been a year but so much has happened. There were so many tears the day you left, so much sadness—so much anger. Maybe you should’ve stayed away.

“Next time you have to get one. I’m telling you, it didn’t hurt at all” a tall girl with a septum piercing tells her friend as they exit the shop. 

The shorter girl by her side stares at the fresh tattoo on her friend’s arm with equal amounts admiration and fear. “Liar. It’s needles stabbing through your skin. There’s no way that doesn’t hurt.”

Noticing the tattoos peeking out of your strappy crop top, the taller girl turns to you for some back up. “Tell her it doesn’t hurt,” she pouts. 

In all your years as a tattoo artist you’ve never once lied to a client but you aren’t on the clock right now and can’t bring yourself to kill whatever glimmer of hope this girl might have of winning her friend over. 

“It doesn’t hurt” you lie to her friend, knowing damn well that, while it isn’t torture, it’s far from painless. “It might sting a little but you’re tough. I can tell. You’ve got it.”

“Thank you” the tall girl smiles, holding the door open for you. “Headed in?” 

“Uh…” you hesitate, chewing at your inner lip. There’s so much weight to that question. A weight she can’t possibly fathom. Swallowing your pride, you give her a smile and a nod, slipping into the shop. 

“Have a good night!” the girls say kindly, going about their night and abandoning you in the doorway. 

Breathing in deep, you take a few more steps before stopping to take in the scene around you. The shop is as alive as it's ever been, the lobby buzzing with customers busy picking out jewelry or waiting their turn to be seen.

The front desk is still straight ahead, marked by a small statue of an orange cat named Cheese. It’d been Minho’s idea to get it when you all went on a drunken flea market adventure and none of you were sober enough to shoot him down. The walls are still adorned with elegant, hand painted art courtesy of Hyunjin, the best photo realistic artist in the shop. The city even. 

The checkered floors are the same, an expertly polished black and white patchwork to match the charcoal color of the walls. Even the couch you bought in from your apartment is still positioned in the corner where a bunch of college kids are currently lounging. A lot has happened on that couch. A lot more than they know. God you hope the boys have cleaned it.

Everything is just as you remember it but the energy’s something new entirely. It’s the contradiction of finding familiarity on an alien planet. 

“You need something, babe?” the bubbly girl at the counter asks, waving you over. This is new. They used to force you to work the front desk on weekends, the guys alternating weekdays based on whoever lost at rock, paper, scissors. But now there’s a new face. She seems sweet though so you make your way over to her. At least one person’s happy to see you. 

“Yes but no but yes? I guess” you ramble, indecision painted all over your face. Observing your appearance she doesn’t take you as the kind of girl to be hesitant about what she came to a place like this for but she comforts you nonetheless. 

“It’s okay” she says, reaching out a sympathetic hand to touch yours, “Everyone gets nervous sometimes. I mean, I work here and even I almost freaked when I got my bellybutton pierced but it’s okay. You know what you wanna get done?”

“Actually, I’m not here to get anything done. I used to work here a long time ago and I just thought I’d drop by and see…”

“You’re fucking joking” a voice from your past interrupts. Before you even turn to look, you know exactly who that voice belongs to. Seungmin. 

“It can’t be. I’m hallucinating” he gasps, clutching his chest. “A ghost? In our shop?”

You roll your eyes at the dramatics. You’ve missed them. “A ghost? Am I dead now? Is that what you consider me?” you sniffle, pretending to cry. 

“Oh, my god. Stop it. Come here” he says, smiling bigger than you’ve ever seen. He throws his arms around you, squeezing you into the tightest hug. In an instant it melts away your worries of not being welcome here. This is the warmest you’ve ever seen Seungmin greet someone and you feel special for being the recipient. 

“Squeeze me any tighter and I will be a ghost” you tease, pulling back the slightest bit to get some air. As you do you notice something new on his face. “When did this happen?” You marvel at the shiny silver jewelry decorating his eyebrow. 

“You hate it don’t you?”

“Ssh, I don’t hate it. I like it. It’s cute.”

Seungmin blushes, rubbing his cheeks in a failed attempt to hide it. Out of the corner of your eye you catch the girl at the counter staring daggers through Seungmin’s soul. It’s easy to see that there’s something going on here and she doesn’t like him blushing over other girls. 

“Ooh, someone’s got a girlfriend” you sing and the counter girl giggles. You can’t help but adore how sweet it is when Seungmin lights up at the sound of her laughter. But you can’t deny that it drags up bittersweet memories of when that was you and...

“Follow me. Everyone’s here tonight. I know they’ll be happy to see you” Seungmin says, ready to escape the lobby before his cheeks overheat from all the blushing. It’ll kill his reputation if the guys find out. He leads the way to the back, as if you need the guidance. You remember exactly where you’re going.

“So…” he sighs, feeling the weight of your return for the first time, “How was Japan?”

“Oh, it was wonderful. It’s beautiful over there and I learned so much from my apprenticeship. I was super nervous at first, you know? But everyone at the shop was…” You stop yourself short, fearful that your fond memories of your time there might come off as bragging. You may have had fun in Osaka but it still paled in comparison to the place you come from. 

Seungmin picks up on it, glancing back at you to give you a comforting smile, “Hey, it’s okay. I’m happy…we’re happy that you did what you needed to do. It’s nice to have you back though. You are back, aren’t you?”

“I don’t know. That depends on what he says. You know how he was when I left.”

Seungmin says nothing, only nods. He knows oh too well how his best friend was when you left. And those months after spent stewing in a bitterness that only thinly masked the pain of losing you. He watched it play out until the sting had faded but only enough to pretend that things were okay when they weren’t. 

“Yongbok, what’d you do with my kit?” Changbin shouts across the room, tearing his station apart in search of his prized possession. 

A few stations away a busy Felix rises from his chair, directing his client towards one of the full body mirrors in the corner. “Why are you yelling at me? I don’t have your kit!”

“I’m not talking to you! I’m talking to him!” Changbin points a finger at a shocked I.N who’s been innocently prepping for the next person in line.

“You called my name!” Felix snaps and it dawns on Changbin that he’s been calling the wrong person. 

Changbin fights himself not to laugh at his own mistake. He puts his head down, discovering his kit tucked away under his table. “Oh, I did, didn’t I?”

I.N querks an eyebrow at him, arms folded across his chest, “Why do you always do that? You can never call me the right name.”

“Because he’s old” Hyunjin mumbles under his breath, still loud enough for the others to hear. Changbin picks up a towel to throw at him but hesitates when he notices Hyunjin’s in the middle of a tattoo. 

“It’s okay, old man,” Han teases, patting his friend on the back. Hyunjin might be busy but Han on the other hand is free enough to invade his personal space so it’s a slap on the back of the head for him. 

“Can you guys be adults for a second? We have a guest” Seungmin announces but you hardly mind. This was what you missed while you were gone. No matter how kind the artists at the other shop were to you, they could never replace your boys. Even in their most chaotic moments there’s nowhere else you’d rather be. 

Seungmin’s voice draws all of the attention in the room to you and everyone falls silent. If there’s anything else they needed to say the thoughts have evaporated in your presence. It’s quiet for long enough that you begin to worry. Thoughts creep back in that maybe this wasn’t the best idea. Seungmin may have been happy to see you but the others?

Just as you begin to doubt yourself, the room erupts in cheers and you find yourself at the center of the world’s biggest group hug. Their joy overflows as arms wrap around you, one set swapping out for another and then another swiftly enough to leave you dizzy. 

“You’re back! Why didn’t you tell us? Ugh, I missed you” Han says, pinching your cheek in an act of cute aggression he simply cannot control. 

Felix hugs you so that his cheek is flush against yours, “You’re staying, right? You have to stay.” 

This is nothing that you expected it to be. You’re flooded with enough joy to make a girl cry and you can already feel the tears welling up, you’re right on the verge of it. A year of wondering if you’d made a mistake. A year of worrying that the people you loved hated you for your decision. All of those doubts are shedded in the arms of these seven men. 

“What’s all this noise?” Chan groans, his eyes barely open as he steps out of his office, “I was trying to sleep for once.”

“Sleep? Shouldn’t you be working?” I.N says, never one to miss an opportunity to be a smartass. 

Chan lets out a yawn, stretching those muscular arms you very vividly recall drooling over and on. “You’ll pay for that, kid. But seriously, what are you guys doing out here?” 

The guys step away, gesturing towards you and his arms drop to his sides. Suddenly he’s reminiscent of a balloon at the end of a party, melancholy and deflated. You watch the light in his eyes die in real time and it makes you sick to your stomach to be looked at this way. It wasn’t always like this. In the old days he’d have you in his arms right now, showering you in kisses. But these aren’t the old days, no matter how badly you wish it were. 

He starts in your direction, one slow, agonizing step of his black boots after another. He stops a few feet away from you as if some invisible barrier is keeping him at bay. His expression is hard as stone as he studies you like you’re a creature he’s never seen before. 

“Hi” you manage in spite of the sudden lack of moisture in your mouth. You get the sense that you’re on trial for some horrible crime and Chan, the judge that he is, has no intention of offering you leniency. 

“It’s really nice to see you. You look…good.” There’s such a softness in the way that you are with him. The wisp of a smile on your lips, the gentleness in your posture. You’re soft as a marshmallow for this man and the fire of his anger’s enough to burn you to a crisp. 

“Chan, don’t be…” Changbin tries to reach his best friend but Chan snatches away, sparing you one last glance before disappearing into his office.

The door slams hard enough that the hinges creak and the wood seems to splinter. The others? They don’t hate you. In fact, they adore you with all of their hearts. But him? You’re positive he does and now you want to cry again but for a different reason altogether.

Han pats you on the back, bringing you close to him, “I’m about to work on my sketch for my next client. Will you help me?”

“I don’t know, Jisung. It might be better if I go.”

“What? No! You just got here!” Hyunjin pouts, his bottom lip quivering. “You’re really gonna walk out and leave some poor soul at the hands of his drawing skills?”

Hyunjin’s attempt at making you laugh works like a charm and a giggle escapes you. 

“Does that mean you’ll stay?” he asks, poking his lip out even more. 

“Yes, that means I’ll stay.”

“Yay!” Han cheers, grabbing onto your hand and dragging you over to his station.

He hops right into it, spilling all of the details about the tattoo and asking your opinion on it. At first you struggle to focus on helping him. As much as you want to, you can’t shake the mental picture of how Chan looked at you. He didn’t say a word but he didn’t need to. He said everything he felt without so much as parting his lips. 

Periodically you find your gaze drifting over to his office door, the pit of your stomach twisted with the anxiety over his next appearance. But the door never opens, not even a crack, and before you know it you’re fully engrossed in helping Han work on his sketch. Your styles are different but he admires you as an artist and soaks in every drop of your input like a sponge. 

As the night rolls on you find yourself at one station after another, helping the guys with what you can. You slip right back into their group dynamic with ease. It’s as if your spot was always here waiting for you to hop right back in. It’s like you never left. The minutes melt into hours and you find yourself lingering behind with them far beyond closing time. 

“We’re all going out for drinks. You’re coming right?” Felix asks as you group filters out of the shop, filling up the space on the sidewalk. 

“Yes, she’s coming. She doesn’t have a choice!” I.N answers before you have a chance to. The boys have already begun moving towards their destination and he drapes an arm around your shoulder to make sure you keep up. 

“I’m coming” you laugh, tapping him on the back of the hand, “I do need to run back to my hotel and change first though.”

Changbin looks you up and down, finding not a single thing wrong with your current fit. “Why? You look beautiful.”

As flattered as you are, there’s no way you’re going out on the town in a crop top and a pair of sweatpants. You might not be planning on switching into a ballgown but a change of wardrobe is definitely in order. 

You bat your eyelashes, grateful for the compliment, “Sweet but no. I still need to change. Just text me where you’re going.” Reaching into your pocket for your phone, you realize you must’ve left it behind. “Shit, I left my phone.”

They all pause, prepared to turn back and help you find it. “We’ll just go back and grab it” Han insists but you shut him down, not wanting to delay their plans. 

“It’s okay, really. I’ll just grab my phone and I’ll meet you there in a few.”

I.N opens his mouth to protest but you throw a hand over it before he can speak. “I’m not a baby, you guys. I got it. I’ll be quick, I swear.”

Shared glances between the seven of them play out a silent conversation that you aren’t in on. They want to look after you, especially after you being so far away for so long, but you’re stubborn and they know you won’t give in no matter what they say.

“Fine” Seungmin relents, “If you aren’t there in an hour we’re coming to get you!”

“Yeah and we’ll raid your hotel room, eat up all your snacks…” Han throws in for extra impact. 

“I’ll be there. I swear! One hour!” you promise, skipping back towards the shop. 

“An hour!” Hyunjin shouts after you, waiting until you’re safely back inside to continue on.

Inside the shop the lights are turned down, not completely off but dimly lit enough that you almost trip on your way to the back. You frantically search every station—in things, under them—but your phone’s nowhere to be found. 

“Fuck, where is it?” you shout in frustration.

Standing in the middle of the floor, you take a deep breath and contemplate where it could be. You were at Han’s station first and then you went to sit with Felix for a bit but Changbin called you to the front for something. That’s it. Maybe it’s there.

You turn to jog back up front when a sound from behind you stops you in your tracks. It’s the sound you’ve been dreading all night. The slow creaking of the door to Chan’s office. Your heart almost stops dead in your chest. You’re frozen, stuck right where you are. You can’t even bring yourself to turn around when you feel the weight of something on your shoulder.

“Looking for this?” he asks, tapping you on the shoulder with your phone. 

Hesitantly, you take it, turning to find yourself face to face with the man you used to call yours. Chan seems less angry now but his nose is red and his eyes are puffy. You can tell from the gloss dancing on the surface of them that he’s been crying. 

“Thanks. Sorry for leaving it behind, I didn’t mean to—”

“Why are you here?” He asks the question so bluntly that you’re stunned, unsure how to respond. 

“I don’t understand—”

“Why’d you come back? I thought you were confident in your decision. I thought that was what you needed. But now you’re standing in front of me so why?”

“Well, I…” you sigh, giving yourself a moment to process your own feelings, “I missed it. The shop and the guys and you.”

Chan’s jaw tightens, your profession placing him right back on edge. “You miss me?” he scoffs, “That’s not the truth. Try again.”

“But it is.”

“No it isn’t.”

“It is.”

“It isn’t!” he finally snaps, raising his voice at you in a way he never has before. “If you missed me then you would’ve called. You would’ve texted me. Do you know what that felt like for me? I haven’t heard your voice in a year.”

“Because you told me you didn’t wanna hear it!” you shout back, the tears you’ve been suppressing all night pouring from your eyes. It hurts to cry this hard. The tightness in your chest is unbearable. You’ve never cried this hard in front of someone before, not even him, but there’s no holding it back. “I blew up your phone all day every day for weeks begging you to talk to me. I might’ve left here but I didn’t leave you. You left me. You broke my heart and I’ve cried for you every night since. So hate me all you want but I won’t torture myself for you anymore.”

Four hours. That’s how long he spent pacing in that office spiraling down an emotional hole. He thought he knew what he’d say to you if he had the chance. All of those words left unsaid would come tumbling out. Those feelings of abandonment. That pain. He’d have the words to put to them that’d make you understand what you did to him.

Watching the tears stream down your face, none of those words matter now. He’d worked you up in his mind to be a villain, totally opposite to the girl he fell in love with. Blinded by his own bitterness he couldn’t see that you were still her. You are still her. And now he can’t ignore it. 

Tucking an arm around your waist he pulls you in, your face pressed into his chest. His fingers find your hair, stroking the soft strands. It feels like it’s been an eternity since he’s touched you. His body’s flush with the sort of warmth flowers must feel on a sunny day.

Chan leans in, his plush lips skimming your ear, “I didn’t mean to hurt you. I just had so much anger when you left and I didn’t know how to deal with it but I don’t hate you. I’m so sorry.”

The tremors of his voice give you goosebumps. He sounds as broken as you do and just as lost. You shake your head, pulling back from him. “No, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have come” you say, wiping the tears away. “You don’t have to worry about me anymore. I’ll stay away this time. I promise.”

You walk off, your arms wet with tears that won’t stop falling. Your chest’s thumping and the shop seems darker than it was when you came in. Footsteps follow behind you lightly enough for you to question if it’s all in your head. If there’s something you’ve left behind then let it stay that way. You won’t turn back. Not this time.

It’s a silly thing to do but you’re doing it. 

Draped across your bed in a towel, you sip from a bottle of red wine and cycle through a heartbreak playlist that gives your lonely heart the company it desperately needs. The tears stopped a half hour ago, the last of them being shed in the shower. Your eyelids feel raw from all of the salty waterworks and your body’s exhausted.

A few feet away your phone sits on a table, lit up with text messages from the guys. After hearing what happened a few of them insisted on coming to get you but you can’t crawl your way towards the closet for the life of you. If not for their persistence you’d be content to rot in your hotel room for the rest of the night, drowning your sorrows in this bottle of overpriced wine.

Knock. Knock. Knock. 

“Nobody’s home” you groan, face down in the blanket. There’s a pause. Some shuffling on the other side of the door. Maybe it worked?

Knock. Knock. Knock.

Pushing yourself up from the bed, you toss the bottle aside and drag yourself over to the door. “Can’t a girl rot in peace?” you pout, swinging the door open. 

“If this is what you look like when you rot then rot all you want” Chan says, flashing you a smile so genuine you’re positive you must be dreaming. 

You stick your head out into the hallway, looking around for the other guys but there’s no one else in sight. “Chan, uh, what are you doing here?”

“Honestly? I’m afraid you’re gonna leave again before I can beg you not to.” 

With not a drop more of explanation he pushes his way into the room, kissing you like his life depends on it. His tongue glides over yours, savoring the taste of you mixed with the lingering sweetness of the wine. The kiss is so consuming you can barely get a breath in but air is vastly overrated when a kiss is laced with this much passion. There’s a year of longing inside of him and he pours it into you boundlessly. 

Tucking his hands behind your legs, he lifts you up, fingers delighting in the softness of your thighs. He missed this. The tenderness of your kiss. The plushness of your figure. The light, fruity scent of your perfume filling his lungs as he plants open mouthed kisses down your neck, suckling at your smooth skin.

His lips never break from you as he lays you across the bed, tearing your towel away like it’s nothing. His palms massage the fullness of your figure, riding every curve to cup one of your breasts. Your body tenses in response to his touch, moisture pooling between your thighs. 

Chan drags his tongue across your cleavage, his stiffening bulge pressed right against your core. “Tell me you’ll stay this time” he begs, lovesick eyes flicking up to you, “Don’t leave me again.” 

Brushing his hair out of his face, your fingers skate along that immaculate bone structure of his, bringing him up for another breathless kiss. His thumb brushes your nipple, making small circles on the tip of the bud, and you shudder. 

“I’ll stay” you moan, your thighs growing slick with your arousal. 

He pinches the bud, grinding his clothed cock against you harder this time, “Promise me.” 

Chan sounds so needy and it only worsens how badly you ache for him. You guide him back up to his feet, slipping to the edge of the bed to kiss his cock through his pants. You press your palm to it, riding the outline of the print while your other hand dips under his shirt to feel his abs contract with every touch. He tugs his shirt up over his head, giving your hands free reign of that beautiful chest.

You smile up at him, pulling down the band of his pants and his boxers at once. His cock springs free, thick, throbbing, and as deliciously veined as you remember. You stick your tongue out, licking up the arousal dripping from the tip. You smile up at him, your tongue retreating to say the words he wants to hear. “I promise.” 

You press your lips to the tip, taking it in further this time. You swirl your tongue around it, enjoying the satisfied groans that fill the room the more you take him between your fluffy cheeks. Your mouth is so warm and wet around his cock. It’s like heaven.

You relax your throat, taking him as far back as you can, before pulling back the slightest bit to wrap your fingers around the base. You rock your head back and forth, wrist rotating as you pump his shaft. You can feel every little twitch of his cock, taste the precum dripping on the back of your tongue, and it has you soaking through the blanket beneath you. 

Chan reaches down to play with your hair, utterly incapable of taking his eyes off of you. You look too pretty drooling around his cock for him to miss a minute of it. He wants to be like this forever with you. Not only this but everything. He wants to be with you. Near you. Inside of you. Anything you’ll bless him with. He just wants you right here, looking at him with all of the love and admiration you do with his cock throbbing down your throat. 

“My beautiful girl” he coos, tilting his hips in to push into you a little more. “All mine, yeah?” 

With your mouth stuffed so full of him he hardly expects you to answer. Your hum of agreement vibrating down his length is more than enough to let him know that you agree. You’re his again. You’ve wanted to be for so long and at last you are.

That knowledge is almost as intoxicating as feeling him on your tongue. Chan tangles his fingers in your hair, bringing your head back far enough that the head of his cock only ghosts your glossy lips. He plants a kiss on your forehead, staring so deeply into your eyes that you almost lose yourself. 

“Bend over for me, baby” he whispers and you nod your head, swinging around in the cutest way to assume the position.  

You crawl onto your knees for him, back arched and ass in the air. “Is this good, Channie?” 

If only you could see yourself from this angle. Your body’s beyond perfection and your pussy’s glistening like diamonds. He can’t stop himself from tasting you, a hand palming your ass as his tongue darts into your core. 

“So fucking good” he hums, his face buried between your thighs. His tongue dips up, dragging between your folds and teasing your clit. Your body trembles and he grabs your hips, lapping at your clit until his face is soaked in your juices.

“Channie, please, ah. Too much” you whine but your body tells a different story. You’re soaking wet, your walls so needy you’re clenching around air. Your hips arch and swirl, almost riding his face.

Chan’s too drunk on your pussy to listen, his free hand between his legs to stroke his cock as he devours you. His tongue pushes back into your core and your walls flutter around it, leaking like a faucet. His cock throbs in his palm, drenched in a mixture of your saliva and his arousal. He feels so out of it, so completely absorbed in you, that he’s racing towards his high faster than he’s ready for. 

Dragging his tongue out, he steadies himself, gripping your hips to bring himself right to your entrance. You wiggle your ass excitedly and he laughs, licking you from his lips. “You want it that badly, baby?”

You look back, serving a pouty face that’d bring even the toughest man to his knees. “I just wanna see how much you’ve really missed me.”

“I’ve missed you so much” he moans, sinking into you with one motion. You both nearly collapse at the dizzying pleasure of it. Your walls cling to his length as he bottoms out, filling you up perfectly. “I was going crazy without you” he confesses, pulling out and slamming into you even harder. Your body jiggles, the softness of your hips borderline sinful. 

You cry out, biting your tongue to avoid a noise complaint but the moans still spill out. Those broken, beautiful moans. Every stroke rides your sweet spot, pushing you further towards absolute ruin.

“I’ve needed you so badly” he coos, savoring the wet snapping sound of your body colliding with his. “Just like I need you right now. Fuck, I don’t know how I lived without this pussy.” 

Throwing his head back, he settles his knees at the very edge of the bed, bouncing you in his lap. He fucks into you faster, your juices splashing up and decorating his abs. Blindly you reach for a pillow, dragging it over to bury your face in because you know it’s coming. You feel it and so can he. Your legs are shaking, you can barely keep your body straight, and your walls are spasming too wildly to spare his sanity. 

You’re almost there, knocking right at the door of you high. But instead of keeping his pace, he slows down, every movement careful and purposeful. He angles himself against your sweet spot, making sure he doesn’t miss it once, and teases you to the point that your body’s almost crying to cum. “You ready to cum for me, hmm? You want it?”

“Mmhmm” you whine, eyes watering, “Let me cum, Channie, please.”

How can he deny the request of such a pretty girl? Picking up speed again, he thrusts into you, and your orgasm rips through you like an electric current. You bite down on the pillow, your brain going fuzzy as you cream all over his cock, moaning his name in broken syllables.

Chan has the glimmer of a thought to pull out but he’s too addicted to the feeling of you clenching to follow through on it. It’s too late anyway, his heart’s already skipping beats, his seed spilling out into the warmth of your core. His movements grow sloppier, both of your bodies getting weaker by the minute, but he doesn’t stop until your knees give out.

You summon the energy to roll onto your back, giving that poor little pillow a break, and Chan collapses on top of you, his head resting on your soft belly. “You know” he pants, massaging your love handles, “This music is really sad.”

You giggle, your awareness of any music playing having faded away the moment his lips found yours. “You’re right, it is kinda sad, but I was sad.”

“Was?” he asks, propping his chin up on your belly, “You’re not sad anymore, right?” 

“Hmm, no, I don’t think I am.”

“And you really meant what you said? That wasn’t just sex talk?”

You need a second to think about what it was that you said. You’re sure you said a few things when he was inside of you. All of which you meant, of course. “Oh, that I’ll stay? Yeah, I meant that. As long as that’s what you really want.”

Chan climbs on top of you, strong arms caging you in as he hovers above you. “More than anything.” 

He kisses you and you close your eyes, letting yourself fade into him. You don’t regret going off to find yourself, it was something you needed to do, but there’s no doubt in your mind that this is where your heart is. With the shop. With the boys. And, more than anything else, with Chan. 

[feyascorner]

Astarion would never admit it, but the charming lines he uses as a constant attempt to seduce you are not all his own.

He’s talented, he knows, at coming up with the heart skipping lines, describing in detail the massive amount of so-called ‘adoration’ he says he can give. He knows how to flirt, and he knows even better that despite the way you roll your eyes, he’s starting to wedge his way into your heart.

But sooner or later, ideas come to an end. And he’s starting to think you’re incapable of falling in love if he’s used all his lines and you still haven’t approached him. Perhaps you just don’t do romance. But hope wavers. Why he’s so adamant on wrapping you of all companions around his finger, he doesn’t know. He knows you’re the most difficult to seduce, yet he can’t help himself.

You’re almost like a drug to him.

So, unable to quit, he turns to his books. They’re sappy romances, and many of the lines even manage to make him scrunch his nose, scoffing at the sheer disbelief of how unrealistic some of the scenarios are. But hours upon hours later, he picks out some of the most upfront lines, because he’s sure you’ll just ignore him otherwise.

He knows you have little interest in romance, but he wants to entice you. He wants to be good enough for you to look at him.

“I must confess that the moment I laid eyes on you, everything in my body and soul told me you were the one.”

You stare at him, eyes lidded and barely fazed. Puzzled, he has no choice but to continue.

“My heart beats terribly, my beloved, whenever I see you bathing in the glory of the sun. My breath quickens, but vanishes when you get a step closer. My very existence, it seems, is meant to yearn for you,” he rattles off the lines of the book, as enticingly as he can, with eyes so seductive that they almost appear to glow. “Your beauty is unmatched with any other. If you asked, I would die—“

“—a million times in the thorns adorning my own desire,” you cut in, and his eyes widen. “The skies could fall and I would use my bloodied body to hold you up again, against the starry nights as a star gleaming brightest in its competition.”

As you finish the line, he blinks, completely and utterly confused. “How did you-“

“It’s my favorite book,” you confess sheepishly.

Astarion, for the first time, sees you as you are. He sees you as the being who yearns for love, just as a young maiden would yearn for their prince—perhaps even more innocent. He’s read you completely wrong, and he feels his throat close up. “It’s…it’s a childish one.”

Your cheeks burn, and he thinks you almost look cute. He rips away from the thoughts though, appalled at what he just considered. “I think it’s romantic.”

“No kind of love is so ideal.”

And while your face falls, you lift your head to look at him with squinted eyes. “…next time, just make your own lines—-or, at least, don’t choose ones that don’t fit you.”

“Don’t fit me? How so?”

“I doubt we would’ve fallen in love at first sight. You had a knife to my throat.”

“A loving knife.”

You stifle a laugh, and he swears he can’t take his eyes off of you. “Well…if you want, I have other books in my tent if you want to see…I have a few you might like, or at least, help.”

He just stares at you, only realizing moments later that you were awaiting an answer. “Ah, of course, darling. I’d love to accompany you. Perhaps I’ll learn a new line or two, though I doubt any writing has as much charisma as myself.”

You smile softly, nodding. “Okay then. Come over tonight after dinner, and I’ll show you.”

And as you walk away, he thinks that rather than him doing the charming and you falling irrevocably in love with him as it should have gone, your interaction has left him charmed instead.

It seems the romance novels are more than just effective at their jobs.

[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.

[shomatoriashi]

11/08/24; 02:33pm

yandere!sung.jinwoo x fem.reader

me: (imagine) a hot man offers you a drink at this korean bbq place, and you don’t want to look uncool and take a shot, only to realize it’s just lemon lime soda

you end up getting starry eyed for this devastatingly handsome man, enjoying the rest of what you thought would be a solo dinner with this charming man-

but little do you know, he’s been lovesick for you and stalking you for quite some time now -

lmao convince me not to do this bestie

@nyashykyunnie: convince me to convince you not to

warnings: stalking; obsessive thoughts and behavior.

work had been a stressful event for you, causing your once steady walking pace to slow down to a complete crawl. exhaustion was felt reaching down into your very bones, and it felt as though your body was being dragged down by weights itself.

lately, work had gotten so exhausting, with your boss forcing you to pick up extra shifts while you struggled to stay afloat. yet despite it all, you were able to survive and make it towards your day off.

currently, you were basking in the freedom that came with a friday night after a long shift work. the fact that it was also your weekend off added an extra layer of sweetness to it all-

and you were going to celebrate this joyous occasion with some much needed korean barbecue. walking across the streets of the city, you head towards your favorite restaurant with a bounce in your step. the exhaustion was quickly replaced with excitement and joy at eating all of your favorite cuts of meat and sides.

entering the establishment, you eagerly tell the host that you’d like a single table, grinning widely when he takes you to a table settled in the middle of the restaurant. looking through the menu, you had to swallow the excess moisture that floods your mouth from all the delicious scents that fills at the air.

after what felt like hours of waiting, your waitress greets you and asks what you’d like to have. when you tell her your order, she smiles and writes everything down, promising to bring out your food shortly so you could start grilling it. so caught up in your eagerness to destress and enjoy a delicious meal, you didn’t notice how a tall man kept his eyes on you.

you were about to unlock your phone and scroll through the various apps when the sight of a large glass bottle being slammed against your table makes you jump in your seat.

trailing your eyes upwards, you were taken aback upon seeing a handsome man with deep, grey eyes staring down at you. locks of wavy, ebony hair was seen falling across his forehead as he pours the liquid into the shot glass.

“a pretty girl like you shouldn’t have to dine all alone, so how about i keep you company?” he flashes you a kind smile, offering the shot glass filled with a clear liquid to you. by now, your heart was pounding in your chest, becoming flustered while beneath this devastating man’s amused gaze.

despite how you didn’t enjoy drinking, something about this perfect stranger’s alluring charm made you want to appear poised and cool enough to handle your alcohol. with a determined nod, you take the shot glass from his hand and down the whole thing with one gulp-

the burn was immediate, and you nearly choked until the familiar flavor of lemon-lime fills at your tastebuds. your eyes widen with realization, meeting kind grey eyes once more as he sits across from you. “no need to panic, i’m not big on drinking either, so let’s enjoy some of this crisp soda instead.”

“y-yes. that would be nice.” you admit to him with a bit of a dreamy expression on your face. now that you were completely relaxed, you were able to see just how gorgeous he was-

and you were dumbfounded at how he came to you.

he feels your gaze and smiles at you, “my name is sung jinwoo.”

you nod and eagerly tell him your name, knowing your heart was steadily melting for him. when your food finally arrived, jinwoo was the one who helped with grilling your favorite cuts of meat, all while serving it to you with a bowl of rice and all of your favorite sides.

throughout dinner, you basked in jinwoo’s presence, enjoying the night with him as you told him all about your interests and the things that brought you joy-

but little did you know, jinwoo had already known all of these things about you.

his meeting with you had not been a serendipitous one, oh no.

when jinwoo first caught sight of you, it was when he saw you walking out of your apartment and ran some errands. where you had gone, he had long forgotten by now, but all he knew was that the moment he saw your face-

all he wanted to do was protect you; to shield you from the world while taking you in his embrace.

it was crazy that he could feel so strongly about another human being at first sight. it’s just… something about you pulled him to you-

like it wasn’t gravity that was keeping him grounded to the earth, but you.

and jinwoo never wanted this feeling to disappear.

he takes advantage of his powers as the shadow monarch, placing only the best of his soldiers within your shadow while watching your every move. and when merely watching you through a haze of darkness wasn’t enough, then he’d resort to physically following your every move.

jinwoo was proud to say that he has stalked you for close to a year now, memorizing your schedule and the places that you frequented. of course he knew that you weren’t big on drinking alcohol-

or how you cried during your favorite dramas-

and the way you fell asleep while clinging to your favorite plushies.

he documents all of these nuances pertaining to you, keeping several journals on him, documenting your likes and dislikes with his own musings, all while praying for the day he can meet you naturally-

a day like today.

he had stood outside your workplace, hiding his face beneath the hood of his hoodie while watching your movements through his soldiers’ eyes. anger coursed through him each time your coworker and supervisor piled on the work for you, further exhausting you.

when you finally stepped out of the building, jinwoo could see the relief in your eyes all while allowing his gaze to soften for you. wishing to make his first meeting with you as picture perfect as possible, he shadow exchanges himself toward your favorite restaurant before getting a table.

now it was just a waiting game-

and you were perfectly ensnared within his trap.

jinwoo notices the way your eyes kept sneaking glances at him, with you eating your meal without truly tasting anything. he could hear the slight hitch of your breathing and was delighted to hear the way the blood seemed to rush through your veins as your heart raced for him-

you were finally his.

wishing to further cement your growing affections for him, jinwoo pays for your meal before offering to drive you home, not once daring to leave your side the moment you step out of the restaurant together with him.

as jinwoo drove you home, he felt saddened at the fact that he would need to leave you so soon, not wishing to make you uncomfortable while pushing the boundaries you may not be ready to break-

however, he was certain that the disappearance of your boss and coworkers would spark some concern within you, and that you’ll run into his arms soon enough-

it was only a matter of time.

end notes: lmao don’t mind me, i just miss sung jinwoo so much (⺣◡⺣)♡

all stories are written by rei; please do not repost, plagiarize, or translate my works!!

[jessamine-rose]

⋆˚♱ଘ Requiem for the Damned ଓ♱˚⋆

*holds head in hands* Idk why Dottore keeps haunting me with writing inspo. And for this idea to manifest just before Holy Week….fuck it, I hope you all enjoy the blasphemous tale of Priest! Dottore x Demon! Darling _:(´ཀ`」 ∠):

Tw:: yandere, violence, death, religious abuse, dubcon, mention of nsfw, MINORS DNI

Note:: fictional depictions of religion

♡ 2.7k words under the cut ♡

♡ Despite your status as a wandering demon, you have no place in human cognizance. Rather, you conceal yourself from mortal eyes in favor of close observations and whispered temptations. Humans, from your perspective, are interesting creatures—they are ambitious, easily influenced by spiritual beings, capable of both good and evil.

♡ And what better example than the one who summoned you on a starry night? Such rituals are not uncommon amongst heretics, but most only succeed in invoking the contempt of their fellow humans. And few would invoke your name, much less commit sacrilege within the walls of the Church.

♡ You sense danger immediately upon your appearance. Within the summoning circle, you take note of your sigil perfectly illustrated in blood against marble. Beyond it, what alarms you is not your sacred surroundings nor the fresh corpse mixed with your offerings of books and fruit. It is the figure standing over you, cloaked in moonlight, gazing at you with eyes the color of hellfire.

“My ritual is a success. Welcome to my humble church, o noble demon…or would you rather be addressed by your epithet? ______, Fallen Seraph, the Seeker of Forbidden Knowledge.”

♡ A glimpse into his soul is all it takes to strike fear into your heart. Within Hell, there are rumors of a small village in Sumeru. Its people are nothing of note, a congregation of simpletons whose lives revolve around the beliefs of their Church. The lone exception is the main priest, Father Zandik, better known as Il Dottore.

♡ The stories, passed through human voices, speak of a child ostracized for his unconventional beliefs and his interest in the macabre. Branded a madman, he was placed in the care of the Church elders who corrected his ways of thinking. Once he became of age, Zandik was given the choice to move out of the rectory or to remain as a priest; he chose the latter of his own volition.

♡ Since his ordination, Zandik has proved himself to be an exceptional priest. He educates the masses, reviews theological texts, performs exorcisms, and provides religious counsel for the doubtful. He even serves as the town’s doctor, fully gaining the acceptance of his community.

♡ The rumors don’t stop there. For Il Dottore earned his title by performing miracles. It is he who guides the people into religious ecstasy, he who cures the sick from mysterious curses, he who blesses the weak into “enhanced humans.” There are already whispers that once Dottore’s mortality catches up with him, he will surely be canonized as the Patron Saint of Doctors and Miracles.

♡ But spiritual beings such as yourself know the truth. That Dottore is neither a kind priest nor a devout believer, that his days in the Church only magnified his heretical inclinations. Disillusioned with God, Zandik decided to turn His religious sanctuary into his own laboratory, one where he could fulfill his lust for knowledge through a mask of holiness.

♡ He manipulates the people with false teachings. He triggers religious ecstasy with drugged incense. He singles out devotees to “test their faith” during the quiet hours of the Church. And what the town perceives as curses and miracles are actually scientific experiments in which Dottore plays god.

♡ It’s too late to escape. No matter your divine powers, nothing prepares you for Dottore’s traps. The incantations, the barrier of the summoning circle, an aura so holy yet sinister that it couldn’t possibly come from ordinary religious objects—all you can do is fall to your knees and beg for his mercy, all the while he watches you with a confident smile.

♡ His intentions are like that of any human: He summoned you to form a contract. In exchange for his soul, he demands your knowledge, your resources, your full servitude for so long as he roams the mortal plane. Your hesitation only triggers another wave of scorching pain, followed by panic as Dottore grips your horn and forces you to face him.

“Make no mistake, ______. The mere fact of your divinity does not make you indestructible. In exchange for your cooperation, you will bear witness to experiments of the same magnitude as God’s creations. What say you?”

♡ You have no other choice. And that is how, in the sanctity of the Church, you make a deal with the human named Zandik. Once the pact has been forged, Dottore admires the bright sigil on his chest, plucks a few feathers from your wings, and disables the summoning circle so you can leave. Thus begins your personal hell.

♡ It is easy for you to answer Dottore’s questions about the divine. The horror lies in assisting him in experiments, responding to his summons no matter the inconvenience, allowing him to extract your blood, tears, and feathers. No, what’s most humiliating is when he uses your body for his “research,” bending you over the altar and bringing you to physical ecstasy against your will.

♡ At this point, you don’t know who to pray to. One night, Dottore shows you a secret room in his laboratory. As soon as he lights the lamps, your eyes take in numerous bodies and skeletons of a different classification from his usual victims. The extra bones jutting from the scapulas, the amputated wings, the halos pinned to the walls, the holy aura you’d felt from his religious objects…instantly, Dottore’s powers make sense.

“This is my first specimen. She was my guardian angel…no, I jest. She was a mere messenger who implored me to repent for my sins. From her words, I deduced it had been within Heaven’s capacity to save me during my youth—and yet God only sent an angel to me after my first act of blasphemy.”

The angels…how many has he killed? Not even during your fall from Heaven did you feel such primal fear for your life. But you cannot scream—you have long been trained to resist fight and flight. All you can do is listen to Dottore’s explanation, watch as he approaches a pure white skeleton and wraps his hands around its fractured hyoid bone.

He gives you a calm smile. “Luckily, her body provided me with indispensable resources for my experiments and my procurement of her brethren. I believe her name was Sohreh.”

♡ Just when you think it can’t get any worse, Dottore points at the far corner of the room to reveal a space dedicated to demons. Four dead bodies, their causes of death vividly described. Horns, wings, and other body parts amputated in exchange for lives spared after exorcisms. And when Dottore returns to your side, tracing the wound from where he broke off your horn, you can only tremble and acquiesce to a checkup. It grows back fully by the end of the year.

♡ He has his moments of vulnerability, however. Perhaps it is due to your nature as a demon, a creature which represents evil, that Dottore does not hide his heart from you. Once, after his usual confessions—he always makes up trivial sins—he remains in the confessional until his fellow priest has left. Then he goes to the altar and summons you.

♡ What catches you off-guard is not his lack of greetings. Rather, it’s the way he pulls you close to his body, lips ghosting the curve of your ear. There, in the heart of the Church, he whispers to you every sin he has ever committed. Despite his normal tone of voice, his words have never betrayed a language so guiltless, so sincere, so human.

♡ He asks how much of his madness is to blame on the influence of demons, or if he had been born wicked. He asks if humans were truly given the mental faculties to withstand temptation regardless of their circumstances. He asks if the same can be said for spiritual beings, questioning why former angels like you were also created with the capacity to sin. He even asks if praying for a demon can offer them any hope of salvation.

♡ It takes you a while to answer his questions. It’s just like him to put your emotions in disarray, to make you feel pity for the very cause of your current suffering. Against your nature, you wonder if there is still a chance for Zandik, if he can somehow repent or find a way to save himself from your contract and all of his sins. Even if it is too late, He has always been more forgiving to humans than angels.

ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ♡ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨

“Do you know why I became a demon, Zandik?”

Your question is what prompts Zandik to pull away from you, though his touch lingers. His gaze, as always, is unfathomable; you can never discern what hides within those pools of crimson.

“No, I do not. Few demonological texts allude to your existence, and only the Lesser Key of Deshret cites your previous status as an angel of the highest ranking. I have made theories in relation to your epithets but I respect all possibilities. Now what would you, as the primary source, reveal to me?”

Now it is your turn to confess.

“Seraphim are the closest to God but for that reason, we are the most distant from His creations. Everything we know of the world is derived only from what He tells us, not our own insights. And so I defied His Word and ate the forbidden fruit from the Tree of Knowledge, committing the same sin which condemned all of humanity.”

The tip of your upper wing brushes against Zandik’s face, while your middle wings encircle his body in a loose hug. As for your lower wings…they are nothing but twin scars covered in short feathers. After your descent, it seemed like a rational decision to chop them off, broken as they were. It helped that your wings had just outgrown their original purpose.

For once, you barely flinch at the sensation of his touch against your scars. Many times, Zandik has inquired about the loss of your lower wings and even asked if he could have them. They still remain in Hell, tucked away in a corner of your home, eyes forever closed.

It takes a few seconds for him to respond. “Do you ever regret your decision?”

You shrug. “It was difficult at first, naturally. Many of my eyes were blinded—yes, that is why I rarely open the ones on my wings—but those which still function have seen so many wonderful sights up-close. Neither must I cover my face with my remaining wings. And despite being what your kind and my former brethren would dub a monster…I’m happier now.”

“I see, I see.” His curiosity appears far from sated, however, a sentiment you can empathize with. “As I thought, God is incomprehensible. For Him to deny even His greatest creation of salvation…it confirms that there are limits to the forgiveness of that which humans call a ‘loving god.’ Thank you for sharing this knowledge with me.”

And just as quickly as he initiated his confession, Zandik steps out of your grasp and dismisses you. But you make no haste, silently watching him after you “leave.”

His expression is thoughtful. A gloved hand touches his chest, right above your sigil.

Such an interesting creature.

Honestly, you don’t know what to make of your feelings for this human. Much as you despise his cruel treatment towards you, he never fails to capture your interest with his experiments and philosophies. Whenever he speaks of God, you wonder if a small part of him still desires to be saved. But that will never be.

Zandik preaches salvation with the knowledge that he will never receive it. For the Church never taught him how to love.

ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ♡ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨

♡ Il Dottore never became the Patron Saint of Doctors and Miracles. Neither did he have a funeral mass befitting of a priest, nor a peaceful death from natural causes. Instead, he died young, laicized, once again denounced as a heretic by his community.

♡ You don’t know how his crimes were exposed, and why now. Perhaps it is God’s punishment for him, a blessing for his victims, or both. Either way, Dottore paid for his sins on a sunny day, burned at the stake before a disdainful crowd. Not long after his heart stopped beating, his belongings were thrown into the fire—research, tools, anything which carried his memory.

♡ You never left his side. After his last rites, led by an elderly bishop who condemned Zandik as he did in the past, you sat next to him and offered a final conversation. He didn’t express any fear nor sadness in regards to his imminent death, merely stating it a pity that his achievements could never be appreciated in his town.

♡ …He did ask if there is any chance of meeting again in Hell, but you reminded him that the punishment of sinners is out of your jurisdiction. Plus, it’s better that way—you have no desire to avenge yourself, and you’d rather not witness Zandik’s suffering for all eternity. You can only imagine the severity of his punishment, what more if he is assigned to one of the demons he exorcized.

♡ During his execution, you stood at the front of the crowd. You kept your eyes trained on him, for so long as his scarlet orbs remained open, whispering the prayers for the dead on his behalf. While a part of you felt liberated, another was mournful. You hope your last words to Zandik gave him solace in his final moments.

“Rest now, Zandik. God may never forgive your sins, but I shall.”

♡ And thus ends the life of Il Dottore. In the following days, the Church is purged of its holy, sinister aura, mainly because they discarded the religious objects tainted with angel remains. You continue your usual obligations as a wandering demon, but the humans you observe pale in comparison to your companion of many years.

♡ Not long after, you return to Hell for your other divine duties. As soon as you appear in your abode, however, something feels off. The sinister aura, the offering of books and fruit, your lower wings gone from their original place… The answer comes in the form of a hand grabbing you by the horn, pulling you backwards, twisting your body to meet a familiar gaze the color of hearth-fire. Only, this time, those eyes are brimming with pure joy, paired with a genuine smile.

♡ Apparently, Dottore’s soul did end up in Hell but not in the way you expected. In a proud voice, he explains that the Devil gave him a special fate. Whether it was due to vacant positions or everyone’s fear of the infamous “Demon-Killer,” you’ll never know. What Dottore does confirm is that as the demon bound to him via contract, you have to take responsibility and act as his companion in Hell.

“Rather than subject me to eternal suffering, the Devil believed that my talents would prove useful for the punishments of my fellow sinners. How wonderful is it for my achievements to be recognized in Hell? …Oh? I didn’t predict such a physical reaction from you. All of your eyes are wide open, and you seem to be on the verge of fainting.”

♡ You don’t know if you want to laugh or cry. To think your personal hell has been extended to eternity—are your sins enough to warrant such a fate?! But after confirming your misfortune, all you can do is sigh and tend to Zandik. He looks exactly the same, with the exception of a few burn scars on his body. And judging by the familiar black feathers on his person, he seems eager to discard his former religious attire along with his mask of faith.

♡ And when Zandik unfastens his scorched cassock, he takes your hand and places it on his unburned chest, right above your sigil. It glows vibrantly, brighter than any light you laid eyes on in Heaven. And beneath the flesh, you can feel his heart beating in sync with yours.

“Tell me, ______, do I still appear human to you?”

“You already know my answer to that question. But fine, I’ll admit it: Yes, you always have.”

♡ 

More Church AU here!! Capitano ๑ Arlecchino ๑ Pantalone ๑ Pierro ๑ Dainsleif

Note:: Please do not send me any Church AU asks/ requests involving other characters or dynamics who are not listed in my masterlist.

At long last, I am free from Priesttore…thank you to everyone. To my readers, to my fellow Dottore simps, to my mutuals who indulged my tortured DMs after midnight, to the artist whose fan art inspired this idea to begin with. May you all have a lovely day╰(*´︶`*)╯♡

Tag a Dottore enjoyer!! @leftdestiny-posts @beloved-blaiddyd @mochinon-yah @diodellet @lcveaesop @oofasleep @bye-bye-sunbird @yandere-romanticaa @boundinparchment @harmonysanreads @teabutmakeitazure @yandere-wishes @yanmaresu @nicebonescomrades @nimandu @lesanyanyas @moarar

[strayrockette]

My Sunshine Girl: The Celebration

Next Chapter

Note: I’m finally giving in and writing this Benny fic my brain won’t stop rehashing. Enjoy 😊

Super Note: Listen, guys, gals, peeps...I really really really tried to keep this short but it ended up a lot longer than I intended. I even split it into two separate parts and it's STILL SOOO LONG IM SORRY! Also please excuse incorrect grammar. I tried to edit as much as I could but I'm sure I still missed something. My Masterlist

Summary: The birthday girl doesn’t want the night to end and a handsome stranger gives her an invitation.

Inspired by: (Today I Met) The Boy I’m Gonna Marry by Darlene Love, He’s Mine by the Platters, and @storiesfromafan.

---

Harold’s Diner was one of many to be open late at night. Where the others were dim and had few occupants, Harold’s Diner was packed with more than usual.

Half were regulars all grouped together on the far left. They held familiarity as they conversed and joked around. Laughter and chatter were loud and hard to escape in the mom-and-pop diner.

You fluttered from table to table, smiling wide, excitement and happiness oozing from your body. It had been a pleasant surprise to walk into your uncle's diner and find a couple of friends and family waiting for you.

Your best friend Nat had organized a small get-together for your birthday. Your Uncle Harold had allowed her to use his diner for the event, "it'll be good for business and it'll make her happy" He had shrugged his shoulders as if saying yes was the only answer. With his answer, Nat had taken it upon herself to decorate the diner in anticipation of the night.

While the diner was technically open to other customers, you didn't mind one bit. The small community you lived in was tight-knit and most customers were from nearby. Few and far between were out-of-towners who were just making a pitstop. But that didn't disturb you one bit.

Customers came and went as the night went on. Many wished you a happy birthday as you and your friends idled joyfully in the corner of the diner. You beamed with each happy birthday.

By the time your friends were ready to leave and retire for the night you pouted, the night was only beginning and you were too excited to see what the cool air and starry sky had to offer.

You’d tried to convince Nat to stay out later but her boyfriend wouldn’t budge. She grasped your shoulders softly, “We can hang out some other time hun, Mikey doesn’t like it when I stay out late”

You’d rolled your eyes and mumbled a passive goodnight. Waving her off with a small and placid smile. Uncle Harold had practically shooed you out of the diner so he could clean in peace. He’d ushered out a goodnight and a see you at home, before closing the diner doors to prevent another customer from coming in.

All too suddenly you were left alone staring up at the sky and wondering exactly what you would do next. Your feet ached in the black wedges Nat had bought you. And you really wished you could sit down somewhere.

You walked along the sidewalk, taking in the dimly lit path, you wondered if you should have taken Nat's offer to drop you off at home. But you didn't like Mikey, so you politely declined.

You continued to wander, your feet aching as you tried to think of where else you could go. Who else could you visit before retiring to your cold empty bed. Lost in thought you barely noticed soft hands moving to grasp your wrists “Y/N?”

You blinked, your eyes focusing on the person in front of you. Short hair and wide eyes, “Kathy?”

A smile broke out, “Oh my gosh! How are you?”

Kathy’s brown eyes twinkled, “Been better. Since when were you back?”

“About a month ago” you responded happily. “I didn’t think I’d run into you”

She fixed her purse over her shoulder, “Talk about perfect timing. Do you remember Alice? Well, she asked me to come to spot her at this bar, but I don’t want to go in alone.”

Her question was unsaid but you were too excited to keep the night going to even think about saying no. You hooked an arm around hers and practically dragged her into the bar. You weren’t prepared for what kind of club you were walking into. But if you learned anything from living in New York City for the last 4 years, it was always best to walk as if you belonged and barrel through bodies who got in your way.

You did just that, Kathy squeezing herself closer to you, your skirt rode up with each stride, the lime green plaid skirt catching more than a few eyes. But you were always prepared for a night of fun, dolling yourself up in the cutest skirts or dresses.

Your legs were covered in nude stockings a pair of dark shorts over ‘em, like hell I’d make it easier for scummy eyes and hands to slip into my “honey pot” the thought almost made you sneer outwardly but you attempted to keep the joyful smile on your face.

You pushed through, shouldering men bigger than you, slapping hands that tried to grab your waist and smiling sweetly when they insisted, “Not for you sweetheart”

Your confidence and boldness had men parting a path for you as you tugged Kathy behind you. Your eyes searching for a familiar blonde, green eyed girl you used to tease for the gap in her teeth.

Alice’s head popped up over the crowd, her hands waving enthusiastically in the air as she caught sight of your dark brown hair and smiling face, “Y/N??OH MY GOD YOU’RE BACK”

She screeched over the loud music and voices, completely comfortable in the bar filled with greasy old and young men alike.

You rushed through the last stretch of the crowd, breaking through to rush around her table, gathering Alice into a hug you giggled and swayed together, “I missed you, you chatterbox”

You teased her as you pulled away. Your eyes roamed her face. “Well, someone’s changed”

Her green eyes looked you over a smirk on her lips, “I could say the same for you, little miss, barreling through those men like you own the place,” she leaned forward whispering in your ear, “Good job”

You laughed, patting her shoulder you pulled a seat out and sat down. Kathy was already seated, her fingers digging into the purse she clutched to her chest. Pulling money from the bottom of her purse she slid it over to Alice, “Here take it”

Alice grinned, “Awe, thanks hun, you’re the best”

Kathy looked around her gaze warily taking in the rowdy men, their greasy appearance, and tattooed bodies, “Uh huh, I gotta go”

Alice frowned, “Awe come on, you just got here and Y/N here, the fun’s just got started”

Kathy shook her head, her discomfort growing, “No way, we can get together another day”

She stressed over the word day. You bumped her shoulder, “Oh come on Pumpkin, I could use a dance with you”

She turned her head to you, her discomfort and excitement warring with each other, “No can do sweets, I hate it here”

Alice snorted, “You hate anywhere that isn’t your home, anyways” She motions to the other end of the table, “over here is cockroach”

You followed, Alice’s gesture, noticing his rough appearance-much like many of the men here, but his eyes were gentle and warm, he’s a harmless bug you thought.

You gave him a nod of acknowledgment and a hello around the same time Kathy paused her jittery movements to say “What?”

She gave him a confused and disbelieving look. He nodded, seemingly used to the confused and odd looks, “They call me cockroach,“ he repeated.

Kathy scoffed her eyes once again looking around cautiously, “And why they call you a stupid name like that?” She asked.

You leaned forward, your elbows resting on the table, “Is it cuz cockroaches are indestructible?”

You were curious about his name and what meaning it had to him. Based on the group of men he hung with you assumed there would be plenty of weird names to learn. He grinned at you, “cuz I like to eat bugs, you know, like a gag but also cuz I just like to eat em”

You laughed amused by his statement. Kathy looked disgusted and she voiced as much, “That’s disgusting. Look, I gotta go, you comin’ with me?”

She turned to you at the end of her sentence. Her eyes pleading with you to leave the bar with her. You pouted, “Sorry, pumpkin, I think I’m gonna stick around a lil longer”

Alice sighed, “Ay, they’re not that bad,” she reached across the table, patted Kathy's hand, and smiled reassuringly, “Just sit here for a bit, okay?”

Kathy huffed as Alice slipped from her seat to go to the bar, her eyes glancing around nervously. You leaned in, whispering in her ear, “It’s best to pretend you belong than to act like you don’t, pumpkin.”

She turned once more her jitteriness increasing the longer she stayed, “And why in the hell would I do that?”

You sighed and shook your head, “to lessen the stares you’re gettin, duh”

She rolled her eyes, “they’d stare no matter what.” She concluded irately.

Alice slips back into her seat, handing you and Kathy a pop to drink.

Before you could respond to reassure Kathy, two men walked up to your table, one is shorter than the other, neither are bad looking but the grease on their skin and the scent of cigarette smoke hanging around them makes them undesirable to most women. At least, the women living the prim and proper lifestyle.

Kathy avoids making eye contact but you do it freely, unbothered and curious at what they’ve got to say.

The shorter one of the two leans forward his dark eyes roaming from Kathy to you, “Hey there.” His voice is raspy and not too deep nor high. It’s rather pleasant, you think passively. “Either of you wanna come live with me?”

It’s almost a tease and a genuine question, the other jumps in eagerly, he’s tall and bare-chested, and he’s wearing a jean vest that all the men in this bar are wearing, “What about me? Wanna go out with me” his eyes look to you, they’re a soft brown and you can tell he’s a sweetheart deep down. But with all the men gathered at this bar, kindness, and sweetness are buried beneath their manly-esque appearance.

Kathy utters, “No, thank you” with a shake of her head and her eyes downcast. But you stare up at them and simply say, “No”

You’re leaning back in your chair, hands calmly placed over your thigh, your legs crossed. You have no worries or cares and you’re not at all intimidated by these men. Kathy goes on to make excuses for why she said no. She looks around the table “Oh, I have a date”

The tall one hums, “A date huh?” He nods his head at you, “What about you?”

You tease them, "If I did have a date, it isn't either of you."

The tall one laughs hollering over his shoulder, "We've got a sassy one over here."

The short on places a hand on his heart, "I'm hurt sunshine"

You laugh enjoying the light banter and tease.

Kathy nudges you, her eyes wide and warning. You stick your tongue out a silent message for her to loosen up.

She pinches your side and then says unconvincingly, “Well, I’ve got a date. 12 o’clock," She nods to herself, " I-I have to get home. She's coming with me.”

Kathy insists on whisking you away from here, she's seen the looks these men give you and bless your heart. Kathy isn't sure if you're unaware or unbothered, she refuses to leave you behind. You were the one good girlfriend she had ever had, even if you had disappeared for 4 years.

The shorter one lifts his cigarette to his mouth and inhales, “You hear that cockroach”

He points his cigarette in Kathy’s direction, “Cinderella’s got a date" He points to you, "And Sunshine waitin' for her man”

Kathy sinks into her seat and you wonder if she would bolt for the door. But with the two men blocking their path, she remains rooted in her seat.

The tall one echos, “Yeah, Cinderelli’s got a date, and Sunshine’s waitin' for her man to find her”

Cockroach chuckles and shakes his head. The two men slip away from the table, the shorter one going on to say, “Cinderella’s gonna turn into a pumpkin or somethin’”

Another man hollers, "Wonder who the lucky man is, Sunshine"

You giggle to yourself, the men reminded you of another group you'd known in New York. It wasn't too bad once you found your bearings amongst them.

You glanced at Kathy, seeing her eying someone with suspicious eyes.

You followed her gaze, seeing an older man calmly sitting with his back to the wall and his legs propped up on a chair. He was eyeing you gals with soft eyes, he gave you two a nod as another man leaned down to whisper in his ear.

Your eyes lingered for a few moments trying to grasp what exactly was being said, with no luck you looked over to the group of men, two of them being the ones who had attempted to pick you and Kathy up, stood near the Jukebox. They lazed around, heads bent speaking to each other, one of them glanced up to look over at the table you sat in.

Kathy shook her head, her voice wavering, “Look at them whisperin and plannin’ somethin, oh I gotta go”

Kathy had reached for your hand, already pulling you up from the seat. Your feet nearly stumbling as you righted yourself to walk behind her. You tugged lightly, turning her around, “If you’re gonna drag me around like ole times, Pumpkin, give me a sec to get my bearings.”

She sighed and nodded. Her right hand clutching her purse tighter as she stood and waited.

You fixed your skirt and bent down to grab your purse that hung loosely over your chair, swinging it over your shoulder, you stood and got ready to leave.

You gave the bar one last sweep with your eyes, stopping when you saw him. Blonde windswept hair and baby blue eyes. Toned arms littered with tattoos, and grease sticking to his skin, you assumed it was motor oil and some other form of grease from tinkering away at bikes.

Your head tilted and a growing feeling of intrigue and curiosity overwhelmed you. Forgetting about Kathy, you plopped onto the chair and clumsily tapped Alice’s arm to get her attention. Your bag knocked against the table nearly falling off your shoulder and hitting the ground but you tucked it on your lap and leaned closer to Alice, “Hey Alice, who is that looker over by the pool table”

Alice looked to where your eyes hovered, catching on to whom you were asking about, “No, girl just no”

You turned, giving her a frown, “What?”

“Thats Benny, you don’t want to go there” She insisted.

Kathy slid into the seat next to you, her shoulder brushing yours, “Don’t tell me you’re eyeing one of these greasy fuckers”

You jabbed her with your elbow, “Be nice,”

Passing her a pleading look. Kathy sighed and leaned onto the table, her escape plan on hold.

You pleaded with Alice to tell you more, “Come on, spill! You never hold back, what’s the deal?”

Alice gave you an unimpressed look and shook her head.

"Just fill my curiosity meter, sweets," You shook her arm as if it would help make her spill.

Alice snorted, “You’re never just curious, Sunny”

Kathy hummed, “Agreed. You rarely give anyone the time of day, why are you askin' about this one”

That's a story that would be too long to spill, you sigh, "I'll tell yah later"

“Look, no one wants to date Benny, he’s trouble. Every time he gets on his bike he gets into an accident” she looked around conspiratorially, “and he’s got a temper on him, he won’t hurt no lady but put a man in front of him and he’ll swing any which way he pleases”

She tried to stress his flaws but you couldn’t quite let go of the curiosity in you. You didn’t have his name before, you’d wondered where he slipped off to after your uncle's diner. He’d shown up out of the blue in the early afternoon. His hair freshly ruffled from the wind, a cigarette hanging from his lips, his long fingers fixing his jacket, and his long jean-clad legs striving through the diner doors with grace and confidence. For a rebel against society's norms, he was handsome. Too handsome. You couldn’t believe he didn’t have a line of girls wanting to get with him.

But then again, most of them probably steered clear to avoid angering their families. Lucky for you, you had no such concerns.

You remembered how your uncle was about to throw him out of your diner, refusing to serve “vandal scum” in his family friendly diner. But you had swooped in, bouncing over before any hands could fly and faces bruised. You’d smiled blithely, gently reminding your uncle it was your birthday and you had no need or want for a fight to break out and break the mood that had settled into the diner’s atmosphere.

People were coming in and out, most were family and friends visiting to say hi and spend time with you for your birthday. Some were customers but even they stopped for a few to talk to you. Reminiscing over younger you who had greeted each of them one time or another at the diner.

You’d turned to the handsome stranger, your hair swirling around you in waves, a playful finger wagging in his direction, “This is a family friendly diner, handsome, I’m afraid you can’t smoke in here”

You had expected him to argue but he merely put out his cigarette, handing it to your outstretched palm. You discarded it in the trash behind the hostess stand and grabbed a menu for him. You glanced to your uncle and then to the stranger, “You can eat here as long as you behave. and you will, right?” You asked sweetly.

The handsome stranger merely nodded, giving you a half smile. His blue eyes staring intently into your own dark brown that glittered with a hint of gold and red in the setting sun that glowed through the windows.

You had waved your hands in the air, “See didi, there’s no trouble here. Just a handsome man wanting to eat your delicious food”

You had defused the situation so quickly it nearly gave everyone a whiplash but that was something everyone had missed. Your ability to lighten an atmosphere.

After getting the stranger seated you went back to your previous activities nearly forgetting the blue eyes that lingered on you throughout his stay.

You had almost forgotten, until now.

Alice shook her head, grasping your hand, “Don’t say I didn’t warn yah”

She glanced at Kathy, “If you wanna leave that bad, let’s get you to a phone to call for a ride mkay”

Kathy sighed in relief, “thank you, you’re the best”

They left you to your thoughts. You pulled your bottom lip between your teeth, thinking over what Alice said and remembering the brief meeting from earlier in the day. You contemplated going up to him, just to ask if had enjoyed the food. He had wiped his plate clean so you know he did. But perhaps you could also ask him why your uncle couldn’t stand the sight of him. Maybe that’s too personal you thought idly.

You would have sunk deeper and deeper into your thoughts if it weren’t for a figure slipping into a chair next to you. His arms hugging the back of the chair, his body leaning over to stare at you.

You almost choked on air realizing who was seated next to you. His eyes peered into yours, soft and gentle. His beard was a golden blonde like his hair, it framed his face nicely, his cheekbones and jaw were sculpted to perfection and you wondered if you ever laid eyes on someone who was casually perfect. “Hey”

Your eyes traced his face, “Hello handsome, I didn't think I'd see yah again"

He nodded giving you a half smile, so similar to the one you had received when you had helped him get a table at your uncles diner, “I’m Benny”

You noticed his voice was a deep honeyed rasp. Somehow smooth and bumpy. You wanted to listen to him talk all night, but based on your previous and current encounters; you didn’t think he’d do much talking.

You tilted your head to the side humming in reply, “I’m Y/N”

Silence fell, a bubbly giddy feeling in your chest almost had you giggling nervously. You’d never had a man stare at you so intensely without a crude or rude comment hanging from their lips. But Benny simply watched. His eyes trailing over your face, mapping out the curve of your nose and lips, the laugh lines in your face, the dimples resting at the top of your cheeks and the way your honey brown eyes watched him in return.

He wanted to reach out to touch your cheek wondering if they felt as warm as the redness in them implied.

You swallowed the giggle by biting your bottom lip, you seemed to be doing that a lot tonight. You hoped you wouldn’t bruise it with how much you had repeated this action. “You gonna stare at me all night, Benny”

You whispered his name and it felt scandalous. As if it was the most intimate pet name you had ever come up with prior to knowing his true name.

He smiled, rubbing a hand over his chin then through his hair, he adjusted his position, “Yeah, I guess”

He made no other comment. Not once bothering to fill the growing silence between you. Perhaps there wasn’t much to be said because his eyes said it all. He was interested, you gathered.

His eyes inviting, patiently waiting on you to confirm…something. You weren’t sure.

And as much as you wanted to do or say anything you simply went with, “I-Uh-I’m with my girls”

You stuttered, what a terrible flirt. You wanted to slam your head into the table, to sink into the floor and disappear. That wasn’t what you wanted to say but it was the only thing you could think of.

“Oh” he looked down at his arms then slowly looked back up to you, “okay”

His eyes were softer and a little sad. More silence. Your heart was beating so fast with adrenaline. You swore you would never forgive yourself for being an idiot. You hoped he would say something, ask you anything. Maybe give you something other than his contemplative silence. But no, he only lifted his hands up, “You’re with your girls”

He had shrugged as he said it, gracefully getting up to leave you alone. You could feel his eyes leaving you and he left you to a different kind of silence. You couldn’t believe how idiotic you had been. As if the invitation wasn’t clear enough you had shut him down. Leave it to you to blow off the only man who had ever made you feel anything other than disgust under their gaze.

Kathy slid into the chair to your right, her mouth parting ready to ask you if you would be leaving with her, but another figure slipped into a seat at the other side of the table.

You recognized him from earlier, the man who watched you and Kathy from his corner of the bar. He gave you girls a quirk of his lip and a nod, “What are your names, girls”

Kathy leaned back and sighed, “What is this? A rotary buffet?”

You could tell she was getting tired of all the men who were coming up to you gals. “I’m Kathy, this is Y/N”

The man nodded once more, “I’m uh Johnny, I’m the president of this club.”

You hummed, “Nice to meet yah”

Kathy rolled her eyes but gave him a nod of acknowledgement. He continued to speak, “Just want the two of yous to know that..you don’t have to worry”

Your brow raised surprised by his statement but knowing where he was going.

“Worry about what?” Kathy questioned with rising suspicion.

Johnny shook his head, “Nothin, that’s all. The guys just wanna have some fun…”

He nodded his eyes trailing to the group of men by the Jukebox, “I won’t let nothin happen to yah”

His grey eyes scanned the two of you.

Kathy quirked a challenging eye brow, “Oh yeah? And what’s gonna happen to us?”

You placed a hand on her arm, trying to calm her growing agitation, “Nothin” Johnny responded.

This didn’t appease Kathy at all, she rolled her eyes and sarcastically laughed, “haha, thanks for that, we gots to go now. Nice to meet yah. Adios. Bye”

You gripped your bag over your shoulder allowing her to drag you out of the bar. When you noticed the men leering and getting closer to her, you tugged her back and took the lead, shoving them aside with strength that once again surprised them. You got out relatively untouched. But you knew that there would be some grease stains on your skirt and stockings. Kathy didn’t seem too happy about the prints on her ass though.

You would have laughed if it weren’t for the enraged look on her face. “What animals”

She hissed. Trying to swipe away the grease but the damage was done.

“Alright, sunny, I called a cab and it should be here any minute. You gonna hop in?”

You sighed and hummed, after blowing off the Benny guy you wanted nothin but to go home and wallow in your failure.

Her lips smirked, “Gonna wallow in self pity for rejectin’ that biker guy?”

Her comment released a wave of groans from your lips, “My gosh Kathy! I blew it!”

You hooked your right arm though her left and followed her across the street, “I was THIS close” you lifted your thumb and pointer finger and squeezed them together, “to maybe going on a date or somethin’”

She laughed, “Oh honey, you’ve never even bothered to flirt nor talk to a man that wasn’t family or close friends. Of course you’d blow it”

Her tease left you pouting, throwing your head back you groaned and stomped your feet playfully, “If I had a second chance I think I could get it right”

Your eyes traced the Big Dipper, wishing for another chance. But for what? You didn’t even think you had it in you. Sure you could be confident and happy. Bulldozing your way through life. Making others smile and laugh. Getting others to feel comfortable and welcoming.

But flirting? Dating? Talking to an insanely handsome man?

An impossible task you really wanted to try.

A few minutes went by before Kathy started to nudge your side. You turned your head to stare at her, one brow raised in question. Her eyes flitted across the street and you followed.

He was walking across the street, cigarette on his lips and a lighter hovering in front of him as he lit it. His hand shoved the lighter back into his pocket and he nonchalantly walked up to his sleek black bike. Swinging his long legs over the bike, he jumped to start it, his bike roaring to life.

He sat down, fixed his jacket, and gave you a look over his shoulder. His eyes were obscured by shadows but with the slight incline of his head, you figured he was silently telling you to get on.

Kathy pushed you towards him, your feet stumbling over the pavement. You righted yourself and shot her a glare. She wiggled her fingers at you, shooing you in response.

You slowly took a step forward. Then two. Then three. And before you could turn around and run away you were standing next to him.

He plucked his cigarette from his lips and gave you a look. His eyes scanned you from head to toe. Amused to see you standing near him. Your fingers fidgeted with the hem of your skirt.

You were just about to ask him if you could get on. But rowdy men spilled out of the bar. Hooting loudly at seeing you next to Benny. Urging you to get on. Some commenting about your pretty skirt riding up your thigh. And some praising Benny for reining you in.

“Get on girl, it’s gonna be a fun ride” one of them laughed out.

Benny gave no indication he was listening to them. And he gave no indication of what he wanted you to do. You suppose he had already given you a hint earlier. You sighed and got on.

Once seated you tried to tug your skirt down the best you could. Silently thankful that you had prepared for the worst-case scenario. Your black shorts peeked from beneath your skirt. Your thighs resting comfortably over the bike.

More of the men hollered, “We’ve got a smart one”

“Ay suppose only Benny can take a peek underneath her skirt”

You blushed at the comment. You would like to deny it but saying anything would only fuel their provocative statements.

You turned to take a quick peek at Kathy, finding her getting on one of the men’s bikes. Having been herded by the others to take a ride. She had obviously given in to get them to leave her alone. She shot you a look. Her eyes flickered between you and Benny. She gave you a wry smile. She was excited for you. But not that pleased with her own situation. However, she’d pull through if you were experiencing it with her.

Your hands were loosely gripping onto Benny’s side, unsure of where to place them.

One of Benny’s hands reached around, grabbing yours to tightly wrap it around his midsection. You laced your fingers together and held on tightly. Trying to ignore the way your body pressed into his.

Someone shouted for him to take off and let him know that they would meet up with him on the expressway. With a jolt of the bike, you lurched forward. Your thighs squeezing Benny's legs and your grip getting tighter.

After that, you were a goner. The night sped past you in a blaze of light. The stars glittering and the town lights fading into the darkness. The wind swept your hair, tossing your neatly primed waves into a knotted mess.

You squealed, pressing your face into his back. Your eyes followed the passing scenery falling in love with the speed and the freedom that swelled up inside you.

You felt him chuckle at your reaction, you tore your gaze away and leaned at an angle to see the side of his face, you could tell he was smiling.

You were in trouble. All the warnings Alice had given you had been discarded. Your heart was a fool and your mind had been made. And you wondered where exactly this night would lead.

A/N: If you made it this far down, I applaud you 👏part 2 is already written and is currently being edited. If you want quick updates, comment for a tag! Thank you so much for sticking around to read this long fic!

[cheollipop]

☂˚.⋆｡ 𝙨𝙬𝙚𝙚𝙩𝙚𝙧 𝙩𝙝𝙖𝙣 𝙥𝙞𝙚𝙨

navi | taglist | part of svthub's fall-ing collab

pairing: lee seokmin x afab!reader

w.c.: 5.0k

genre: smut, fluff, established relationship, apple picking and pie baking and some sweet lovemaking <3

a lovers’ retreat—golden rays cast shadows over high, blushing cheekbones, flour-kissed noses and eye smiles as warm as the oven’s embrace, secrets and tender kisses shared with the starry night, and in a wooden cabin fragrant with the aroma of cinnamon and caramel, the love shared was sweeter than the finest apple pie.

☂ warnings: food/eating mentioned, unprotected sex (👎), creampie, praise, edging, some begging, some cockwarming, overstimulation (m), multiple orgasms (f), nicknames (min; baby, babe, love), some aftercare, seokmin is so fucking whipped (so is reader), there's so much love talk in this, I hate myself.

☂ A/N: nobody come for my inconsistent pie recipe, I didn't use one (also idc if you don't knead the dough, i needed it to describe seokmin's bulging muscles tyvm). other than that, this fic means a lot to me and despite struggling for the most part, I really enjoyed writing it. happy reading! :]

nsfw under the cut—minors dni 🔞

Slender fingers rounded the hanging fruit, examining for imperfections with eager eyes and the tip of a tongue held between pearly whites. The crisp air contrasted the solacing warmth of the morning sun under which you basked, strolling between green leaves and bright reds with a near-empty basket dangling at your side. You wanted him to work faster, to disregard whatever negligible bumps lay on the apples’ exterior, but you opted to remain silent, simply watching him from the sidelines while he carried on with his meticulous inspections.

Seokmin was spring. Smiles that could bring a barren land to life, vivid flora and singing birds fluttering around within the glimmers decorating his irises. But spring had long since ended, now treading deeper into the cooling weather of autumn, and yet, Seokmin still offered verve to everything he touched. Even as green turned to yellow then amber, and tanned skin rested beneath thick layers of cashmere and fleece, he still wore his spring smile—a reminder that the season of life will come again. He carried warmth wherever he went, and the biting chill attempting to penetrate thick layers of clothing stood no chance while his towering figure remained by your side.

You watched him throw the fallen end of his scarf over his shoulder, a woven cream he’d worn on your first date. Hoary yarn ends peeked out along its length, and you reminisced the store tag he’d forgotten to remove while he fiddled with his fingers and laughed anxiously before you all those years ago, so young and eager to impress. You’d mused over the giggles shaking his tense shoulders, the pretty pink painting his face and ears when you failed to rip it off in a discreet manner, and though the embarrassment was debilitating in the moment, the worry weighing down on Seokmin’s shoulders faded away as you laughed. It was well into winter when you’d walked alongside the river, steaming cups of hot chocolate resting between your palms—going cold before you had the chance to sip on them, only there to fight off the bleak midwinter breeze numbing your appendages. Young and dumb, you both were, walking by the river on a chilly day, but young and dumb brought upon you years of easy smiles and hearty laughs, unconditional love and unending happiness, all sprouting from sharing arbitrary details about yourselves with that same cream scarf draped around you both.

Dark locks now dyed the colour of changing leaves, the morning rays casting their golden hue over the wavy strands and reflecting off the specs perched over his nose bridge. Seokmin was a few inches taller now, and his shoulders broader, but the smile he wore, the sparkle in his eyes as he laid them on you were no different than those from that day by the river.

Chatter at your side dragged your attention off Seokmin’s profile and onto the family walking past you—two curious children and their parents inspecting the ripe fruit hanging before them. Scripts of late-night conversations you’d had with Seokmin flooded your mind, your face flushing and butterflies swarming your lower belly at the thought of starting a family with the man. Seokmin's fascination with learning how to braid your hair, his whispered comment—’for the future’—did not go unnoticed as he brushed gentle fingers through the stands he’d tangled in his attempts, a hint of a promise in his tone. He also promised to never leave them alone with Hoshi, which you appreciated. For obvious reasons. You were still young, and had much to experience together before taking a step that significant, but part of you was ready to offer Seokmin the world. A man who’d brought nothing bliss and warmth into your life, how could you not?

Turning your head back to the man in question, your eyebrows raised as you watched him eying the passing family alongside you, and you wondered whether the same thoughts were running through his head as well. But then his attention shifted back to you, and the amiable smile while he took you in told you everything you needed to know.

The curve of his lips persisted as he reached a hand to push the stray strands blown by the chilling breeze off your face, pinching the fat of your cheeks between his pointer and thumb before dropping them back to his side. A gentle gesture, but it lit your insides on fire, blinking quickly as you processed an action so natural to him, yet one that set you ablaze. Swallowing nervously, you redirected your gaze to the three apples resting over Seokmin’s palms as he presented the flawless, shiny Honeycrisps with a proud grin.

You giggled, “those look great, Min.”

“Only the best for you,” he leaned forward to plant a kiss onto the cheek he’d just pinched.

Flustered, you watched him throw the apples into the basket you held, his fingers brushing against yours as he swiftly pulled it out of your hand and carried on walking through the orchard. You might have missed a few additions to the small pile while you pondered about a lifetime by Seokmin’s side, and yes, the basket was significantly more weighed down now that he did. But it wasn’t that heavy.

You skipped a few steps to catch up with him, your bottom lip jutting out in protest. “Min. I can carry it myself.”

“Mm, I know,” he hummed, eyes trained on the novel batch of apples swinging gently at his eye level. “Don’t want you to, though.”

You pushed away the fondness warming your chest, capturing his coat’s sleeve between two fingers as you sulked at his side, his attention still set on those damn apples. He moved the basket to his other hand absentmindedly, allowing you more space to come closer to his side, his free arm wrapping around your waist, and head twisting to look over your moping features with tender adoration gracing his own. Leaning down, he pressed soft lips to your forehead, their warmth seeping into your skin and fluttering your eyelids shut.

Placing another one at your temple, playfulness mingled in his tone as he spoke, “Stop complaining, you’re not getting it back.”

And this time, all you could do was laugh.

The hours hurried by while Seokmin’s endless chatter kept you company, and perhaps you wish it hadn’t, wanting to treasure each passing second you shared in the presence of the man with the unwavering smile. You walked between the endless trees with leisure steps, the fingers entangled with yours occasionally dragging you with them to inspect the gradient of red and green. Some apples made the cut, thrown into the pile of spotless fruit he’d gathered over the past few hours, while others remained swaying with the gentle breeze, bruised exterior reflecting the golden rays.

A particular shade of green caught Seokmin’s eye, leaving your hand behind at your side to wrap slender fingers around the glossy circumference, rotating it gently to inspect it, going as far as leaning forward to get a closer look. Nodding to himself, he snapped its stem off and placed the weighted basket down, wrapping the apple in his cream scarf to give it a good wipe. You felt yourself salivate at the satisfying crunch sounding as Seokmin’s teeth breached the unblemished skin, and you watched the pucker of his lips as he chewed with wide, expecting eyes. A breathy chuckle contained within tightly pursed lips echoed in the back of his throat upon viewing the anticipation etched into your expression, and he moved the unbitten side towards your already-parted lips. Too focused on the apple nearing your waiting mouth, you’d missed the sly smile, the giggle he’d nearly failed at suppressing, and bit into the polished green.

A stream of its juice slipped past to flow down your chin, bitterness overwhelming your tastebuds and forcing your eyes firmly shut. A shiver ran down your spine as you struggled to chew on the unripe fruit, tears prickling in your eyes as you willed them open to glare at the man before you, hints of guilt mixed in with amusement on his face. Underneath all the kind smiles and caring gestures, Seokmin loved being an asshole.

He’d watched you persist and push through finishing the bite, too many people around now to spit it out. He even leaned forward to kiss away the tangy juice cooling over your skin, scrunching his nose at the sourness he’d willingly stolen another taste of. At least he was aware enough to take a step back once you’d swallowed the unpleasant bite down, what you thought was fear flashing across his features.

“Hey,” he put his hand up in defence before you could speak, “we share everything, right?” He took another step backward while giggling anxiously, and he nearly tripped over the apple-full basket he had resting over the soft grass. “Why should I make an exception for fruit?”

“Bad fruit,” you corrected, an eyebrow raised.

“Babe,” he started, but didn’t know how to continue, perhaps hoping the sparkling brown of his irises would do the trick.

And it almost did, you admit. But the bitterness lingered over your tongue, and Seokmin found himself scurrying away and out of the fire zone of the incoming apples you’d launched at him, laughing while you entertained the couples and children harvesting their own fruit with your lively act of revenge.

--

You smoothed your hands down the fresh set of clothes you’d thrown on, the fleece warm against your skin. The ligneous scent of your rented cabin added to its coziness, gentle winds blowing against closed windows and floorboards creaking with every socked footstep guiding you to the small kitchen.

Said footsteps quickened upon spotting bright green reflecting off the sharp metal of the very large knife in Seokmin’s hand, eyebrows furrowed as he focused on dividing the apple into even crescents. The hurried shuffling drew his attention, twisting his head just as you reached for the sharp tool, gently untangling his fingers off its handle to set it down over the cutting board alongside the botched fruit.

“Baby?” Tilting his head to the side, he stared at you in confusion.

You held both his hands in yours, flat over your palms as you inspected the tanned skin. Running your thumbs over polished nailbeds, you followed the protruding veins lining his slender fingers, all the way down each knuckle until you’d made sure he was unharmed. You enclosed his fingers within your palm, bringing them up to press your lips against, finding his pointer to plant an especially tender kiss over the scar stretching across its side.

“I was being careful,” he spoke through a melodramatic pout.

You smiled. “I know you were, Min. But let me handle the chopping this time, okay?”

Averting his eyes to the side, pretending to focus on the yellowing trees past the windowpane, Seokmin nodded, his hands limp in your hold. You lowered them to his side to cradle his jaw, tilting his head down to meet your eyes once again and staring him down in hopes of breaking his composure, but Seokmin’s pout persisted. And so the kisses began, soft and delicate over his cheekbones, forcing his eyes shut as you trailed your lips over the trembling skin. Leaning your head back, you watched his evident struggle against a betraying smile, finally curling the corners of his mouth when you’d dragged his head down with a forceful kiss to his cheek, the skin stretching under your lips while you kept them pressed there for a few more seconds. You moved away with an audible smack, Seokmin’s pout nowhere to be seen as he stared down at you with an uncontainable smile.

“Why don’t you make the dough instead?”

You picked up where Seokmin left off—half an apple chopped sloppily, which you ended up munching on while you worked—going through the washed apples to pick out the greenest, cutting them into even pieces and throwing them in a bowl of cinnamon and sugar. You remembered the nutmeg later on, after the frustrated noise at your side caught your attention, confusion raising your eyebrow when you’d noticed the powdery dough Seokmin was working with. He’d forgotten the eggs.  The embarrassment on his face was adorable, rose-tinted cheeks and restrained smile while watching you crack an egg into the crumbly mess he’d been working on for a shameful amount of time. A quick kiss to his jaw and a whispered ‘it’s okay, Min’ seemed to do the trick, though.

Tossing the last of the apples into the seasoning bowl, you sprinkled nutmeg over the shimmering crescents before grabbing a clean spoon from the dishrack, the spices’ aroma wafting in the air around you as you mixed them in with the fruit. Glancing over at Seokmin, you realised he’d begun kneading the dough, flour dusted over the marble counter as he rolled the raw crust in on itself, and as you took in the hard muscle bulging against the sleeve of his t-shirt, your fingers unconsciously loosened around the spoon you held. Your eyes wandered over flexing biceps and defined, broad shoulders, veins protruding from tan skin as he worked the dough under his palm. Bottom lip tucked between a set of pearly whites, his eyebrows furrowed occasionally while the ball gradually smoothened in his hands, growing less crumbly and eventually forming a near-perfect sphere.

Absentmindedly tumbling the apples with a limp grip around the spoon, you followed Seokmin’s movements, lower belly fluttering with every faint, airy grunt sounding in the back of his throat as he worked the dough.  Your thoughts strayed as you eyed the distracting flex of his muscles—the smile he wore, so sweet and tender, contrasted broad shoulders and the strength to manhandle you without much thought. You were almost certain Seokmin had no awareness of the fact, going about what he was doing without much regard to the blushing mess he’d left behind, the butterflies violently thrashing around within your stomach. The sparkling orbs with which he gazed at you, with charming innocence, oblivious to the effect he had on you. Perhaps that was for the best; you weren’t sure you’d want to find out what would become of him should he learn of the hidden power he’d been holding this entire time.

Sudden eye contact dragged you out of your daydreams when the man before you turned in your direction, the smooth doughball resting over his palm, and a proud smile on his lips. You held back the one threatening to break out on yours when you’d spotted the white dusting the pointy tip of his nose, some lightly powdering his cheeks as well. Instead, your chest warmed at his wordless flaunting as he slowly moved the undented dough towards you, sparkling eyes fishing for praise. And sure, you basically made the dough for him, and yes, all he did was mix the ingredients together with firm, hard-earned muscle, but the slight falter in his smile the longer you remained silent was enough to sway you.

“It looks great, Min!” You stepped closer, inspecting the roundness with wide eyes for a few seconds before straightening up to meet his eyes, “I’m proud of you, my love.”

Though a simple gesture, Seokmin’s face lit up, all but hurling the dough onto the counter to pull you into his arms, grinning into your shoulder while he squeezed your laughing frame closer to his chest. His arms still around you, he pulled away slightly, stars dancing in his eyes as he gazed at you gleefully, smiling against your lips as you got onto your tiptoes to kiss him lightly. But that didn’t satisfy Seokmin, his arm wrapping across your back to pull you back into him, locking his lips with yours once again, this time with hunger and hints of desire laced into the action. He kissed you once, twice, until he’d had a taste and realized he’d never have enough, needing sweetness and plush lips to forever bless his senses. While you held on to his biceps for balance, Seokmin was everywhere—hands up your back, over your arms and waist, and suddenly he was kissing you harder, deeper, tongue swiping across your bottom lip and teeth digging into it with a fervent want that sent waves of heat soaring through your body.

Pulling away for air, your chests heaved in unison, flush against one another as Seokmin peered down at you with hooded eyes, a spark of lust igniting the dark irises. And suddenly you were back in the present, the forgotten apples browning in their bowl, and the dough witnessing the heated exchange from its place on the counter.

“T-the pie!” you quickly diverted, pushing Seokmin away to shift your focus back to the task at hand, but you could feel his eyes boring into the back of your skull. “Can you preheat the oven please?”

An amused laugh sounded behind you at the shakiness of your voice, “yes, boss.” Just as you were about to sigh in relief, you heard him take a step towards you, his chest bumping into your shoulder and a gentle whisper blowing against the shell of your ear. “You have flour all over your face, by the way.”

And your pants, you thought, as his palm landed a playful slap onto your ass before he made his way to the other side of the kitchen.

The heat coursing through you dwindled as you fixated on the unfinished pie, save for those resulting from the not-so-hidden glances you’d stolen of Seokmin’s defined biceps as he moved the rolling pin over the dough. It was smooth sailing after that, though, missing the heart eyes directed at you as you spooned the filling into the rolled-out crust, perfectly fitted into the baking mould. You attempted to control your expressions as Seokmin tried and failed to cut straight lines out of the leftover dough, begrudgingly allowing him to place the uneven lattice in a questionable pattern, the chipper smile stretching his lips while he worked more than enough to excuse an ugly pie.

Carrying the raw pie over his head like Simba, Seokmin made his way to the oven. You held the door open for him, eyes following the baking mould as he transferred it onto the rack, gasping when his finger met the scorching metal. He placed the pie down and pretended nothing happened, ignoring the forming mark on his knuckle as he swung the oven door shut. And despite the whining and attempts of reassurance, you dragged Seokmin to the sink and ran cold water over his hand, once again kissing his pout away while you stood with barely any space separating your bodies.

His free hand slid across the small of your back, his other leaving its place under the running water to shut it off, wiping the droplets over his sweats before holding onto your hip. Leaning down, he met your lips once more, then again, until short pecks deepened, and a sharp nose nuzzled into the side of yours as he pulled you further into his body.

You pulled away with a gasp, startling Seokmin away from your lips, “the sweet potatoes!”

The initial shock replaced by softening eyes and a breathy laugh, Seokmin squeezed your waist once before releasing you. He stood to the side while you wrapped foil around the sangria exterior, offering to put them in the oven for you, but backing down at the disapproving glare you threw at him. Perhaps Seokmin had unintentionally caused a case of Pavlovian conditioning, one you remained unaware of, because the very second his bottom lip jutted out, yours were pressing consoling kisses over its plushness. Sometimes it took a few tries, but that’s only because you enjoyed watching the man—broad shoulders and all—sulk and whine when he didn’t get his way, only to lighten up and grin once your lips met his. It’s unclear who the winner was in this game, both parties working with a motive and ending with a satisfying result. Peculiar, really.

You settled down on the creaky floorboards across from the oven, your back to Seokmin’s chest and his thighs on either side of yours. His arms rested comfortably around your waist, hands limp at your hips, occasionally squeezing at the clothed flesh. Watching the pie crust brown through the glass, you basked in the cosy aroma circulating the cabin, the heat emanating from Seokmin’s body gentler and more comforting than that caramelising the sugar drizzled over the wonky lattice. Delicate fingers smoothed down your hair, and a silky voice lulled you to a tranquil state of comfort, strong arms holding you within the aura of warmth until a sharp click sounded, with the nostalgic scent of cinnamon and caramel to guide you out of slumber’s enticing grip, and back to toothy smiles and a cordial embrace.

--

The night’s breeze was crisp against slick skin, the warmth encased within the confines of the thick blankets now infiltrated through a window forgotten open. Seokmin noticed the raised goosebumps over your arms, and lowered his body until your chests laid flush, his forearms on either side of your head keeping his weight off your form.

“Cold?” he asked, lips pressing against your jaw and up to your cheekbone, over the frosty tip of your nose.

You shook your head, “not anymore,” and wrapped your arms around the soft skin of his waist.

Seokmin smiled, gentle features illuminated by the moonlight peeking through the cracked-open blinds—a cool-toned hue casting shadows over his face, moving as he pressed his pelvis closer to yours with an exhaled moan. Moving his weight over to one arm, he slid the other down to your core, splaying his palm out over your lower belly to thumb at your clit.

He’d been teasing you for so long—his cock filling you up the way you wanted, but only barely teasing your g-spot, refusing to move despite your repetitive whines; instead, he occasionally reached two slender fingers between your legs to relieve some of the arousal burning underneath your skin. This time, though, you’d reached your limit, clenching around him as a sudden high rushed through you, shaking your body within his hold.

Despite a day’s worth of lingering touches and heated kisses, a hand placed a little too low on your back, and eyes lit with unconcealed glints of want, the patience Seokmin exhibited as he guided you through your orgasm was not surprising. He’d always enjoyed giving—curling his fingers just right to take in the elegant arch of your back, your sweet taste on his tongue while he nuzzled his nose into your soaked pussy. But most of all, Seokmin savoured the tight squeeze around his cock as he fucked you through an orgasm, his breath heavy and eyes lidded with the pleasure your walls lavished upon him.

Slowly fading back into the present, you peered up at the man atop you, the column of his throat stretched as he took in the violent fluttering of your walls. But you wanted more, pent up and restless with his scent, his warm touch, occupying your every sense. And he still won’t move.

You rolled your hips experimentally, a startled hand rushing to stop you, fingers digging into the flesh to stifle the motion. “Please,” you whined, “Min, please move.”

Groaning at your tone, cock throbbing between your walls, “oh baby,” he breathed out, bumping his forehead with yours and allowing his eyelids to fall shut. “I’ve been thinking about having you like this all day. I wanna last for you, my love, ‘wanna make you feel so good.”

Arousal boiled in your lower belly, eyelashes fluttering and a shaky breath escaping your parted lips at the words whispered in the air between you. “Min-”

“Let me be good for you.”

A kiss to your temple and a few inhales were all it took Seokmin to regain his composure, his forehead still pressed to yours as he tugged you closer by the hips, languidly rolling his own into your heat. The leisure glide wasn’t much, but it sent a shiver through your body. It was as though Seokmin could read the wordless pleads sparkling in your eyes, pulling his face away just enough to adjust the angle before settling back down onto your body. Fingers tangled in your hair to keep your eyes on his, blinking in unison while you breathed the same air, gentle waves of pleasure drawing breathy moans out of the both of you, his cockhead brushing against your sweet spot every time he drove it inside your cunt.

Sliding a hand over his sweat-coated nape, you dragged Seokmin down to your lips, the sweetness of a pie forgotten outside enriching your tastebuds, the single remaining piece left over the picnic blanket alongside crumbled foil—the unintentionally discarded dessert serving as breakfast for the blackbirds to nip at when the morning came.

The hand lost in your hair found its way to your jaw, cradling your face while he devoured you, the kiss growing deeper the farther Seokmin sunk down the blazing pit of lust growing within him. His cock twitched erratically within you, pace picking up until the echo of skin-on-skin danced between the four walls, hips slamming against yours with fervour as his eagerness finally won over him. Unable to focus on anything but the mind-numbing heaviness of his cock pounding into you, your lips parted to release a staccato of ah’s, his own relentless as they peppered wet, open-mouthed kisses all over your face.

“God, you’re perfect,” he grabbed your cheeks with the hand previously on your jaw, squishing them together to lay his lips onto the forced pout on yours, “all mine.”

Your eyes rolled to the back of your head at the repetitive abuse to your cunt, squelching obscenely every time Seokmin fucked his entire length inside. “All—hngh—all yours,” you repeated, exhaling a breath you’d been holding when sudden warmth spread through your abdomen.

“I—hah—‘m sorry,” he stuttered as his rhythm turned sloppy, shuddering when he finally came. Sheathing himself deep withing your heat, he fed ropes of translucent white into your womb while attempting to keep his eyes on you, long eyelashes fluttering while ecstasy flowed through his body.  “Felt so good, I couldn’t…” he paused to lower his head, interrupted by a string of airy moans as the last, weak spurts of cum emptied out of his twitching cock. “I couldn’t help it,” he muttered.

The reassurance died on your tongue when the sensitive cock drew out halfway, only to slam back into you as though the arms bracketing your head didn’t continue to tremble with the continuing effects of his orgasm. Lifting his head back up to meet your gaze, he lowered his hand back down to play with your cunt, dipping down to feel around your stretched hole and back up to circle your clit with the slick he’d collected, a silent promise of “I’ll be good” glimmering in his lidded eyes while he watched you fall apart under his touch.

And he was, so good.

You tumbled over the edge unexpectedly, cockhead pounding into your cunt while he rolled your clit underneath his fingertips until your features contorted gracefully, fireworks exploding behind your eyelids as you shut them and tilted your head back to welcome a stupefying orgasm. You tensed for a moment, then began spasming uncontrollably in his arms, hips simultaneously jerking towards and away from his touch as he guided you through your high, languidly gliding his cock along your dripping, clenching walls, both hands now gripping the soft flesh of your hips.

And when the stimulation sent pangs of pain up your body, a whispered repetition of his name paired with limp tugs at his wrist finally broke Seokmin away from you and the bewitching melody he drew out of the perfect circle shaping your mouth. He slid his softening cock out of your heat to allow thick dollops of pearly cum to stream out of your pussy, watching as your hole clenched uselessly until your abashed whine dragged him out of his thoughts.

You found yourself tucked in under layers of thick blankets while running water sounded in the bathroom, bare feet padding over the floorboards until Seokmin—with his boxers on backwards—reached under the covers to blindly drag a warm washcloth over your skin, hoping it would catch all the sweat and cum without having to expose you to the chill air. You drew your lips into a straight line to avoid laughing at the concentration furrowing his eyebrows, cheeks flushing as he washed your middle. Any other day, Seokmin would make a big deal of cleaning you up properly, but you could see the hair on his arms raising, the autumn night’s chill piercing through his skin.

He didn’t even bother with returning the rag to its place, tossing it over his shoulder to dive under the cosy blankets with you, limbs tangling as soon as he made it there—arms circling your tired frame and legs pushing between and over yours. The momentary frigidity dissipating, his body heat seeped into your very being, and you inhaled the fresh scent of laundry mixed in with remaining hints of his cologne. Nuzzling the pointy tip of his nose into your hair, he planted a kiss onto your crown, the gesture faint as his steady heartbeat lulled you to much-needed slumber, the serene trip to dreamland occupied with solacing thoughts about a forever home within Seokmin’s tender embrace.

reblogs/feedback are greatly appreciated!! ^^ apply for my tag list here (´｡• ᵕ •｡`) ♡

[upon-a-starry-night]

Number Neighbors Series Masterlist

~Slowburn Series~

Natasha Romanoff x fem! Reader

Back to Masterlist?

Summary: When you catch sight of the newest trend going around you know you’re all but bound to at least try it, it was harmless anyway. What could possibly stem from something so little?

Teaser 1       Teaser 2       Teaser 3

Note!: This story does not follow the original MCU timeline!!

(we know Nat would never just text a random number without a full blown investigation but for one beautiful moment let’s pretend she doesn’t do that for a while okay?)

-Story-

Part 1

Part 2

Part 3

Part 4

Part 5

Part 6

Part 7

Part 8

Part 9

Part 10

Part 11

Part 12

Part 13

Part 14

Part 15

Part 16

Part 17

Part 18

Part 19

Part 20

Part 21

Part 22

Part 23

Part 24

Part 25

Part 26

Part 27

Part 28

Part 29

Part 30

Part 31

Part 32

Part 33

Epilogue

-Series One-Shots-

N/A

-Texts with Nat-

1.breakfast preference 

----------Taglist------

-marvelwomen-simp -cd-4848 -wandanatlov3r -rebeltombraider -ctrlamira -fxckmiup -aliherreraaa -natsxwife -la-douler-ne-finite-jamais -romanoffsgal -moistblobfish -natashaswife4125 -elenimoris -how-to-disappearrr -screechcat -toouncreativeforausername -ordelixx -autorasexy -blacklightsposts -vmpnano -jono723 -sylencr -saraaahsstuff -autorasexy -gay4hotmilfs -tofu9162 -dyslexic-dreamer -graniairish -colettehope -kosmichs1 -nmhlver -natblidaclexa -skittlebum -dorabledewdroop -nothanksbye07 -mrsrushman - thalia-is-not-ok -tessalah -annab3113 -officialnighttime -taliiiaasteria -bgwlsmahf25 -chibilauren -natashasgirlll -nmhlver -madamevirgo -gemz5 

[aphroditelovesu]

Since requests are closing in a few days, I just wanted to put another one in. No rush go get it done of course!

I want to request a oneshot/reaction where Alexander gives reader a really, REALLY expensive necklace. Maybe it's a wedding present, a just because present , or something following the birth of the twins. You can decide what you want to do with that 😁!

Also, I keep picturing a necklace made of opal??? Not only is it a stunning gem stone, but it was also thought to be the tears of Zeus in ancient Greece, which would be an interesting tie to Alexander. Again, it's just a suggestion. You can use whatever gemstone you want!

Thanks, and take care ❤️❤️❤️!

--O-

❝ 📜— lady l: this had been sitting in my drafts for a while and I finally decided to write it. I got a little carried away, so it's a little big, but I hope you like it and if you want to order anything else, feel free, anon! Good reading and forgive me for any mistakes! ❤️

❝tw: none, just fluff and very soft!Alexander.

❝📜pairing: yandere!alexander the great x female!reader.

❝word count: 1,308.

Alexander wanted to find something to give you. Something expensive and extravagant, something that would leave you impressed.

He felt like he owed you that. Not only had you given birth to his children, but you were loved by him and he wanted to please you. He thought of several options: a horse, silk clothes, food and even drink. He still wasn't sure what you might like.

Until he had an idea after talking to Hephaestion. He was the one who gave you the idea of giving you a necklace made from a special and rare gem. And he knew it was the right choice to make.

It was no easy task to get a merchant to have the necklace he liked and deemed worthy of you to wear around your delicate neck, but after the fifth try with a different merchant, he finally knew what your gift should be. He decided to gift you with an opal necklace, a jewel that reflected the beauty and mystery of his passion.

It would change color and he would know that it would look beautiful and graceful on your neck. Everything about you was beautiful and graceful, so the necklace would only stand out on you and no one else.

This opulent piece was adorned with the most dazzling opals that could be found in the entire Empire. Each stone sparkled with vibrant colors, dancing like the aurora borealis reflected in the starry night. The necklace was a unique treasure, a harmony of opalescent hues, displaying hues of celestial blue, emerald green, and royal purple.

The merchant who sold it told him a story about the necklace and it was this story that convinced him to buy it. According to the Persian merchant, legend said that opals were gifts from star spirits, who bestowed their blessings on those who used them with love and wisdom. The necklace was not just a piece of jewelry, but a source of magical power. Its colors and reflections were believed to contain the essence of nature, connecting the wearer to the spiritual realms and bringing fortune and protection.

Whoever owned the opal necklace was seen as a keeper of ancient secrets, an heir to the ancient magic that flowed through the precious stones. It was said that opal possessed the ability to amplify intuition and creativity, allowing the wearer to see beyond the ordinary, opening doors to new possibilities and inspiration.

After this explanation, Alexander knew that this necklace must be yours. Not just because of your story, but because of who you were. From when you really came. No one was more worthy than you.

There was also another version of the story that convinced him to buy it. Knowing how religious Alexander was, the merchant also told him that the opal was made from the tears of Zeus. Long ago, at the beginning of Greek civilization, when the gods walked among mortals, Zeus, the mighty king of the gods, shed tears of joy and sorrow over human fate. These tears, upon touching the earth, transformed into radiant stones known as opals, carrying within them the duality of emotions of the great god.

Thus was born the opal, a legendary gem forged by Zeus' own tears. Each stone was shaped from divine emotions, capturing the essence of heaven and earth. Its unique iridescence reflected not only the colors of the rainbow, but also the contrasting feelings of joy and sadness, hope and despair, harmonized in an eternal dance of light and shadow. Ancient sages believed that the necklace was not just a manifestation of beauty, but rather a link between mortals and the gods. It was said that whoever wore the opal necklace would be enveloped in the protection of Zeus and would have the divine wisdom to navigate life's challenges.

And maybe when little Aella grew up, he could give her a necklace similar to the one he chose for you.

He smiled at the thought and with the necklace inside a small wooden box with gold ornaments, he walked to the room you shared in the Babylonian palace. Straightening his posture, Alexander knocked on the door and after hearing a soft ''come in'', he opened the door and smiled widely when he saw you sitting in a padded chair with Aella in one arm and Cyrus in the other. He fell silent when he realized the twins were asleep.

You looked at him and smiled softly when you saw what he had in his hands. Alexander placed the box on a table next to the bed and approached you, carefully taking Cyrus in his arm. You smiled lovingly when you saw him cuddling the baby in his arms.

Whispering, Alexander says, ''I have something for you.''

You smiled and asked curiously, ''What is it?''

Alexander carefully picked up the box with the arm that wasn't swinging Cyrus and placed him on your lap, looking at you expectantly. You smiled and opened the box with a little difficulty due to the sleeping child in your arms. Your eyes widened when you saw the lush opal necklace. You had never seen such beautiful jewelry.

Alexander, who was watching you like a hawk, smiled at you.

''Alexander, that's…'' You swallowed and took the necklace in your hand, carefully observing its details. The necklace was a magnificent piece, a heavenly masterpiece that captivated the eyes of all who dared to gaze upon it. Every aspect of the necklace was a symphony of intertwined beauty and magic.

The centerpiece of the necklace consisted of a main opal, a generously sized gem that radiated an unparalleled iridescent glow. This central opal was an explosion of celestial color, with soft, shimmering hues that moved like an aurora borealis trapped within the gemstone. Its tones ranged from the deep blue of twilight to the lush green of enchanted forests, and occasional glimpses of the deep red of divine fire.

Around the main opal, a series of smaller opals were skillfully arranged, forming a necklace that seemed to have been woven by the stars' own hand. Each smaller gem had its own color personality, some glowing an ethereal blue, others a crystalline green, and still others with purple and gold hues reminiscent of the sun setting over distant mountains.

The structure of the necklace was as intricate as the reflections of the opals. Delicate strands of gold wove between the gems, creating a sparkling frame that complemented the iridescence of the opals. Small, intricate metal sculptures, decorated with designs that resembled star constellations, adorned the necklace, giving it an aura of ancient magic.

''Do you like it?'' Alexander asked after you remained silent, observing the necklace with a strange expression.

''I loved it.'' You whispered, admiring the necklace. Alexander walked over to you and took the necklace from your hands and placed Cyrus back in your arms, careful not to wake him. He stood behind you and removed your hair from your neck, placing the magnificent necklace around your neck. You closed your eyes when you felt the touch of his calloused fingers on your skin and sighed when the necklace was placed on you.

''I'm glad, it suits you.'' He kissed your neck affectionately and you closed your eyes, smiling.

Alexander leaned closer to your ear and whispered, ''When I heard the story about the opal… I knew it would have to be yours and yours alone.''

You opened your eyes and turned your head, looking at him. ''And what is this story?''

Alexander smiled widely and after kissing your forehead, he began to tell you both stories he had heard from the merchant. You just listened in silence, delighting in his words, with your sleeping children on your arm and the weight of the beautiful necklace around your neck.

Your small, loving family.

[jmliebert]

Starry Nights belong to lovers

Summary: Gale longing for Tav while being positively miserable (because i love my man being miserable sometimes, y'know...)

smut with (a little bit of) fluff and angst?

Word count: 4,250

Tags: romance, angst, longing, shameless smut

Warnings: explicit content (18+)

Author's note: because in my last playthrough i was torn between keep romancing gale or losing it all to the polygamist relationship with halsin... ( i chose my babyboy gale tho) but the possibilities are endless and here's one of them !!

also! you can read this on ao3 if you prefer it that way ♡

Well, that was rather embarrassing predicament, to say the least. Gale of Waterdeep, esteemed wizard, lurking in the shadows like a common maniac. Observing a woman of his dreams from afar. A woman who had once held his heart in the palm of her hand, only to cast it aside for another. Positively pathetic, isn’t it? 

He knew he shouldn’t, but he couldn’t stop himself from watching her with a mixture of fascination and trepidation, like an astronomer gazing upon a distant star, simultaneously drawn to its brilliance and wary of its celestial power. There was something about Tav, something ineffable, yet undeniably captivating, that compelled him to observe her, whenever he had a chance. Mind you, Gale's captivation resided not in the moments of intimacy, but rather in the quiet nuances of Tav's daily life. He found himself drawn to her ordinary rituals, avoiding the intrusion upon her private moments as a matter of principle— he adored watching her writing letters in the soft glow of the evening, tending to her garden with such grace, the quiet reverence with which she communed with nature's wonders. Each gesture, each fleeting expression painted a portrait of a woman both ordinary and extraordinary, and Gale found himself inexplicably drawn to her.

And yet, amidst the tapestry of her daily life, there was one thread that left a bitter taste upon his tongue— Halsin. Oh, how he despised the very mention of the name, the mere thought of the druid being so close to Tav and being her lover (whatever that meant in Halsin’s world), stirred a pang of ugly jealousy within his breast. For what claim did Halsin have upon Tav's affections, he wondered relentlessly, when it was he who loved her from the very beginning. It was he who worshipped the ground she was walking on. And finally, it was he who forgot his goddess because of her. 

Still, Tav didn’t choose Gale. 

Well, maybe that statement wasn’t entirely correct. In truth, Tav did chose Gale at the beginning of their journey. They would spend countless hours in his tent, engrossed in conversation and lost in the pages of books. Their laughter echoed through the camp. He took great care to ensure that Tav received the choicest bits during their shared meals and in moments of distress, Tav sought solace in his reassuring presence, finding comfort in the warmth of his hand clasped firmly in hers. Though Gale never said it out loud, he felt a swell of pride knowing he was the one she turned to in her hour of need. 

Oh, how he admired her unwavering sense of justice and compassion. She was committed to doing what was right, even when faced with the most daunting challenges. In a world this wicked and dark, she was a beacon of light. She gave him hope when all seemed lost, and in turn he offered her his heart, but Tav wanted more, it would seem. 

He saw her talking with Halsin more and more as they were roaming through The Shadow-Cursed Lands. It seemed as though every passing moment brought them closer together. Tav's radiant smile and melodious laughter filled the air as she was talking with the druid. And the way he looked at her, made something inside Gale stir. Halsin gaze lingered on Tav, his eyes alight with admiration, mirroring Gale’s own. It was pretty obvious, yet, when Tav asked him, how he would feel as to having another person in their relationship he was taken aback. His first thought was the baby. 

“What, like a child? I’m not sure I’d consider myself a father material, plus our current lifestyle isn’t exactly what I would called settled…”

“It’s Halsin. He wants to be with me, but he doesn’t ask that I sacrifice you. We would…share.” Tav's words hung in the air, heavy with implication

Share?

Gale's mind reeled at the notion. “Share? You’re not a loaf of bread to be divided up at a supper time! I thought what we had meant something for you.” 

But apparently he was wrong. Perhaps it hadn’t mean as much to Tav, as it meant to him and the realisation of that made him a truly miserable man. He was also angry, so angry beneath the surface. It was hard to stay at the camp after all this, it was hard to watch them talking, breathing, just being. Yet despite his best efforts, he couldn’t bring himself to hate Tav. And for that he was even more enraged. How could he be so weak? 

As the time passed and Baldur’s Gate was finally safe, the companions went their separate ways. At first, Gale welcomed the prospect of solitude, believing that distancing himself from Tav would bring him peace. He came back to Waterdeep  and sought solace in his study, surrounded by his precious books and arcane tomes. He threw himself into his studies with renewed fervour, delving into the depths of ancient texts and lost knowledge in an attempt to distract himself from the pain gnawing at his heart, but it wouldn’t go away.

One evening, after one too many glasses of wine, Gale found himself consumed by a reckless impulse. It was a night much like any other, yet something within him stirred, a restless energy that demanded release. Casting an invisibility spell upon himself, he ventured out into the night. Before he even knew what he was doing, he found himself teleporting to the familiar streets of Baldur's Gate. Near where he knew Tav lived, to be precise. He told himself he was merely checking on her, ensuring her safety in a world fraught with danger. But deep down, he knew the truth.

As he watched her from the shadows, unseen and unnoticed, he found himself entranced by her mere presence. She was brushing her hair, her movements fluid and graceful, her face bathed in the soft glow of candlelight. In that moment, she looked so utterly beautiful, that Gale had to fight back the tears that threatened to spill from his eyes. 

It began as a one-time occurrence, a fleeting moment of weakness, he told himself. Yet, with each passing day, Gale found himself seeking out more excuses to linger in Tav's vicinity, even if she remained unaware of his silent vigil. And so, he became a ghostly spectator, haunting the edges of her life, longing for a connection he knew he could never truly have. 

Because, how could he? How could he love her one moment only to watch her slip away into the arms of another the next? He couldn’t live like this, even if it’s Tav. So he just watched her, not ready to let go. 

☾☾☾

This particular night, Tav was alone. Halsin was away, tending to orphans he took under his wings after all that happened in Baldur’s Gate. Truth be told, Halsin's frequent absences were a relief to Gale as it was still hard for him to witness the bond he had with Tav. There was an intimacy between them that Gale found himself unable to stomach. 

Gale found Tav in her bedroom, nestled on the bed, a book cradled in her hands like a precious treasure. The soft glow of candlelight bathed her in a warm embrace, casting delicate shadows across her features. She looked so peaceful, so utterly content in that moment, and Gale couldn't help but feel a twinge of jealousy at the sight. In another life, they would read their books side by side every night, their fingers tracing the words upon the pages. 

Gale, didn’t know exactly why, but instead of his usual routine of observing Tav from the safety of the window, like a little puppy desperately waiting for their owner to let them in, he now found himself seated in his favourite chair on the other side of Tav's bed, invisible. It was an audacious move, even for him. Maybe, he was feeling particularly lonely that starry, romantic night? Or maybe there was something in the summer air… no matter what, the pull of her presence was too strong to resist at that moment.

So Gale was sitting there, watching Tav and enjoying the warm breeze. Lost in his thoughts, he shifted slightly in his seat, his foot inadvertently knocking into one of the candles seated on the floor. His heart lurched as he watched in horror as the candle toppled over, its flame igniting the delicate fabric of Tav's blanket. Panic surged through him as he realised what he had done, his mind racing with frantic thoughts, his hands on his head in pure disbelief. 

"Oh, no!" he exclaimed, the words escaping his lips before he could stop them.

“Gale?” Tav’s voice, full of confusion, pierced through the silence, sending a jolt of adrenaline coursing through Gale's veins. 

With a quick flick of his wrist, Gale summoned a rush of water, his practiced fingers weaving a complex pattern in the air as he cast a rapid incantation. The water swirled and danced in the air, cascading gracefully onto the flames and extinguishing them in a matter of seconds. As the last flicker of flame died out, Gale hesitated for a moment before releasing the invisibility spell that had cloaked him from view. With a soft shimmering light, he materialised into view, his expression a mixture of sheepishness and devastation of a defeated man.

"Hello, Tav," he said, his voice tinged with embarrassment as he met her gaze. "It seems I've made a bit of a mess, haven't I?” Gale asked as the smoke began to dissipate around him.

Now, he was waiting for Tav to be (rightfully) furious at him, but she wasn’t. Instead, she seemed to be…concerned? 

“Are you all right?” Her voice was laced with genuine worry, her eyes searching his face for any signs of distress. It was a simple question, but it carried a weight that caught Gale off guard.

For a moment, Gale found himself speechless. He had anticipated anger or confusion, not this. His heart felt heavy. 

"I'm...I'm fine," he stammered, his voice betraying a hint of disbelief as he struggled to compose himself.

“Good,” Tav said, stepping closer to Gale and enveloping him in a warm embrace. He froze momentarily at the unexpected touch, his heart racing in his chest. “I don’t understand how you got here,” Tav murmured softly, her voice barely above a whisper as she buried her face in Gale's chest, “and I’m not even sure if I want to know,” she added. "But I’m glad you are here," she continued, her voice trembling with emotion. "I’ve missed you... more than I can put into words." Tears welled up in her eyes, spilling over and cascading down her cheeks as she clung to him, seeking solace in his embrace. Gale felt his body stiff at first at the sudden gesture, but despite it all he held her close, offering silent reassurance as they stood together in the quiet intimacy of the moment.

"Shh," he whispered softly, his touch tender as he traced soothing circles along her back. With every motion, he felt the weight of her sorrow, the depth of her longing, and his own heartache mirrored in her tears. He fought to hold back his own emotions, to be the pillar of strength she needed in that moment. To be a true man. But beneath the facade of composure, Gale's own tears threatened to spill over. “I’ve missed you too, Tav.” And his words were honest. 

"After we destroyed the brain, you left so abruptly," Tav's voice trembled with emotion, her words carrying the weight of unspoken pain."I thought... I thought maybe you didn't want to see me ever again, that you detested me. And I understand if you do. I know you might think that all we had, was just a facade, a lie, but it wasn't.”

Gale listened in silence, and his heart throbbed with pain. He hated to watch her cry. ”I’m sorry," he whispered, his voice barely audible above the hushed cadence of the night. "I never meant to hurt you.” 

"I should be the one apologising," she murmured, her voice laced with regret. "I felt so guilty for leaving you like that, Gale. There were nights when I cried myself to sleep, feeling your absence like a gaping wound. And in those moments, Halsin... he was there for me. But it wasn't the same. It could never be the same.”

Gale's chest tightened at her confession, the weight of her words pressing down on him like a burden too heavy to bear. "Tav..." he began, his voice choked with emotion and…hope? But before he could utter another word, she silenced him with a gentle touch of her hand. She looked deep into his eyes, looking for something in them. 

"Gale," she whispered, her voice soft yet resolute. "I want you to know... I love you. I've always loved you." Her words hung in the air, heavy with sincerity and emotion. "But I also love Halsin. In a different way, perhaps, but love nonetheless.”

Gale felt his heart sink at her admission, a pang of sorrow lancing through him like a blade. Despite the warmth of her touch, he couldn't shake the chill that settled in the depths of his very soul. "Tav," he began, his voice barely above a whisper, "you know I'm not... I can't be... I want you all to myself. It hasn't changed since the last time we spoke about this.” And despite himself he added— “I think I should leave now.”

With a heavy sigh, he made a move to leave, to escape the turmoil of his emotions, but before he could take more than a few steps, Tav's hand shot out, grabbing his own with a desperate urgency. 

"Don't leave," she pleaded, her voice tinged with desperation. "Not tonight. Let's forget about Halsin, about everything. Just... let's be together tonight, you and I. Please?” Her eyes searched his, pleading for understanding, for connection, for something to hold onto in the midst of their tangled emotions.

And then she came closer, dangerously close. As her lips met his in a tender yet impassioned kiss, Gale felt his resolve waver, crumbling like sand between his fingers. The warmth of her touch, the sweetness of her embrace, it all washed over him like a wave, sweeping him away in a sea of longing and desire.

For a moment, time seemed to stand still as they lost themselves in each other, their bodies pressed together in a fervent embrace. Gale's heart pounded in his chest, the rhythm of their kiss echoing the tumultuous beat of his emotions. And in that fleeting moment, as their lips parted and their eyes locked in silent understanding, Gale surrendered to the intoxicating pull of their shared desire. With a surge of strength, Gale lifted Tav effortlessly into his arms, her legs instinctively wrapping around his hips as he carried her towards the bed. Each step felt like a revelation. 

As he gently laid her down upon the soft sheets, their eyes met once more, the intensity of their gaze speaking volumes. With trembling hands, Gale traced the contours of her face, memorising every curve and line as if committing them to memory.

Tav appeared as a vision of ethereal beauty, her form draped in the delicate embrace of silk nightwear that accentuated every curve and contour of her body. Gone were the rugged trappings of their journey through the wilderness, replaced instead by the subtle elegance of her attire. Gale found himself captivated, his gaze lingering on the gentle curve of her neck, the graceful slope of her shoulders, and the subtle rise and fall of her chest with each breath. There was a vulnerability in her appearance that stirred something deep within him, a longing to protect and cherish her with every fiber of his being.

“Oh, Tav,” Gale said as he enveloped her body in his arms, burying his face in the soft curve of her neck, inhaling deeply the sweet, intoxicating scent that enveloped her. The warmth of her body pressed against his own ignited a fire within him, a primal urge that had been dormant for far too long. As their bodies pressed together, a wave of arousal washed over him, leaving him painfully hard and achingly aware of every brush of skin. Tav's hand found its way between their bodies, her touch sending shivers of pleasure racing up his spine as she palmed his growing erection.

A low, guttural moan escaped his lips as pleasure rippled through him, his senses overwhelmed by the intensity of the moment. It was as if he had been starved for this connection, this physical closeness, and now that he had it, he was powerless to resist its allure. As Tav shifted her position being on top of him, like his queen, straddling Gale's hips, she moved with a fluid grace that left him mesmerised. With deft fingers, she began to unbutton his shirt, revealing the toned muscles beneath, her touch sending a shiver of anticipation through his willing body.

In response, Gale reached up to grasp the hem of Tav's nightdress, pulling it over her head with a reverence that bordered on worship. As the fabric fell away, she was bathed in the soft glow of candlelight, her skin aglow with a warmth that seemed to emanate from within.

Gale's breath caught in his throat as he took in the sight before him. Tav was utterly beautiful, her rounded breasts heaving with each breath, her thighs pressing against his hips as she straddled him. In that moment he knew, she held him in the palm of her hand, a goddess of desire and passion, and he was powerless to resist as he was just a mere human. 

As she unbuttoned his pants and her fingers wrapped around his throbbing penis, Gale felt himself losing control. Every touch sent shivers down his spine, his desire mounting with each caress. Despite his trembling voice, he managed to murmur, "You don't have to do this."

"But I want to," she responded, her breath warm against his skin as she pressed a tender kiss to the glans of his penis. Gale took a deep breath through his clenched teeth. His arousal was palpable, his desire for her nearly overwhelming as she took him into her mouth with a delicate grace that left him shaking with need. Each sensation was magnified tenfold, every touch sending waves of pleasure crashing over him in an ecstatic frenzy. As her lips closed around him, he could feel the warmth of her mouth enveloping him, her tongue dancing along his length with a skill that bordered on sinful.

Gale could hardly contain the primal urge building within him, the intensity of his desire threatening to consume him whole. With each gentle caress and tantalising stroke, he felt himself teetering on the edge of ecstasy, his body aching for release. His hips moving shyly, only to be held down by Tav hands.

“ Tav, Tav I’m close,” he said, but she didn’t stop instead she was sucking him even harder. And when Gale finally came, it was like an explosion of pleasure unlike anything he had ever experienced before. With a cry of ecstasy, he surrendered to the overwhelming sensation, his body convulsing with the force of his release as he spilled himself into Tav's waiting mouth, his senses ablaze with a euphoria that left him gasping for breath. The world went quiet for a second, but not long after he felt Tav body on his. Her soft curves pressed against his chest. Her lips, swollen from their passionate encounter, hovered just inches from his own, and he couldn't resist the urge to draw her closer, his fingers tangling in the silky strands of her hair. Gale smiled. 

With a gentle touch, he brushed a stray lock away from her forehead. When he saw a droplet of his sperm lingering in the corner of her mouth, he couldn't help but be overcome by a sudden surge of desire. Without hesitation, he leaned forward, capturing the droplet with his thumb and bringing it to his lips, savouring the taste of their shared passion as he licked it away. And as their lips met in a searing kiss, Gale felt himself consumed by a hunger unlike anything he had ever known, his hands roaming freely over her back as they lost themselves in the heat of the moment. 

Their night was far from the end. 

Their kisses grew more urgent, more desperate, as their bodies pressed together in a tangle of limbs and desire. With every touch, every caress, Gale felt a surge of longing course through him, igniting a fire that burned hotter with each passing moment. As his hand trailed down her spine, exploring every curve and contour of her body, Tav's breath hitched in her throat, a soft moan escaping her lips as she melted into his touch. And when his fingers finally found their way to the wetness between her legs, she couldn't help but arch her back in response, a shudder of pleasure coursing through her.

With a hunger that bordered on desperation, Gale shifted his position, kneeling between her legs as he drank in the sight of her. His heart raced in his chest as he watched her, every movement, every quiver of her body, sending waves of desire crashing over him.

"I need you, inside," Tav whispered, reading his thoughts exactly. Her voice barely more than a breathless plea. Her eyes bore into his, dark with desire, and Gale knew he couldn't deny her. With a tenderness Gale lowered himself down onto her, positioning his penis to her sweet entrance. 

He had imagined it countless times during the lonely hours in his study, weaving fantasies in the quiet solitude of his mind. But now, as the reality of their passion unfolded before him, it surpassed even his most vivid dreams. In her embrace, Gale felt a sense of wholeness he had longed for, a completeness that eluded him in his solitary existence. Closing his eyes for a fleeting moment, Gale focused on the sensation of her body beneath his, the warmth of her skin against his own. And when Tav's hips began to move in a gentle rhythm, he followed suit, his movements initially tentative but growing bolder with each passing moment, encouraged by her soft moans. 

Quickly Gale found himself lost in the heady haze of desire, his senses overwhelmed by the sight and sound of Tav squirming beneath him, her moans of pleasure driving him to new heights of ecstasy. With each thrust, each movement of their bodies, he felt a primal urge building within him, driving him ever closer to the brink of release. He groaned each time he was all in, deep inside her sweet wetness, his gaze locked onto hers with a ferocity he didn't know he possessed.

As he drew near, his thrusts grew increasingly erratic, his control slipping with each passing moment. Despite his desperate attempts to hold back, he found himself on the precipice of release, his body trembling with anticipation. "Come for me, my love," he whispered, his voice husky with desire, his fingers tenderly caressing her cheek. And as Tav's back arched in ecstasy, her breath hitching, and walls tightening Gale felt his own climax approaching like a tidal wave, ready to engulf him in its powerful embrace. With a low, guttural grunt, he buried himself deep inside her, his hands gripping hers tightly as he surrendered to the overwhelming waves of pleasure crashing over him. With a primal cry, they reached the pinnacle of their desire, their bodies convulsing in unison as waves of bliss washed over them.

In that moment of pure connection, Gale surrendered to the overwhelming sensations coursing through him, his release flooding Tav's depths with a torrent of his essence. Deep inside her, he poured himself into her with abandon, his ropes of cum filling her wholly as they became one. As the last echoes of their shared climax faded into the hushed stillness of the room, Gale held Tav tightly in his embrace, their bodies entwined in the aftermath of their lovemaking. They lay there, panting and spent, their hearts racing.

Desperately, Gale clung to the fleeting moment, reluctant to pull away from the intimate connection they shared. He wanted to linger inside her, to savor the warmth of her embrace for just a little while longer, before the outside world intruded once more. 

Gale's touch was tender, his hand tracing soothing patterns along Tav's back, lulling her into a peaceful slumber. With her hand resting gently on his chest, she seemed so close, yet so far away. And for a fleeting moment, everything felt perfect, as if they had found each other's again.But as Gale's fingers sense the tiny wooden duck hidden beneath the pillow, reality came crashing back with brutal clarity. It was a stark reminder of the presence they could not escape, a symbol of the inevitable truth that awaited them at dawn. His heart felt empty. What they had shared this night was nothing more than a fleeting illusion, a desperate grasp at something unattainable.

“I love you,” he said softly, though he knew he shouldn’t. 

With one last lingering gaze at Tav's sleeping form, he turned away, a heavy weight lifting from his shoulders as he made his way out of her bedroom, finally letting her go for good. 

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵

thank you so much for reading !

you can find more of my works about bg3 ♡here♡

[spicy-pears]

Hi!!!

I saw you were in the middle of writing a series. So I'm not sure you'll even take this request. But I saw the Maxxxine trailer and I really want a 80's themed johnny smut.

I know it sounds weird but just hear me out! 🤣

𝟙𝟡𝟠𝟞

𝚆𝙲: 1.4 𝚔

𝚃𝙰𝙶𝚂: 𝚂𝚝𝚊𝚕𝚔𝚒𝚗𝚐, 𝚃𝚑𝚒𝚐𝚑 𝚏𝚞𝚌𝚔𝚒𝚗𝚐, 𝙲𝚘𝚌𝚔 𝚠𝚊𝚛𝚖𝚒𝚗𝚐, 𝚂𝚒𝚣𝚎 𝚍𝚒𝚏𝚏𝚎𝚛𝚎𝚗𝚌𝚎, 𝚎𝚍𝚐𝚒𝚗𝚐, 𝙲𝚑𝚘𝚔𝚒𝚗𝚐, 𝙱𝚛𝚎𝚎𝚍𝚒𝚗𝚐, 𝙳𝚎𝚐𝚛𝚊𝚍𝚒𝚗𝚐/𝚂𝚎𝚡𝚞𝚊𝚕 𝚟𝚞𝚕𝚐𝚊𝚛𝚒𝚝𝚢, 𝙿𝚊𝚒𝚗 𝚙𝚕𝚊𝚢, 𝙾𝚟𝚎𝚛𝚜𝚝𝚒𝚖𝚞𝚕𝚊𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗, 𝚁𝚘𝚞𝚐𝚑/𝙰𝚗𝚐𝚛𝚢 𝚂𝚎𝚡.

𝚆𝙽: 𝙸 𝚑𝚊𝚍 𝚊 𝚝𝚘𝚗 𝚘𝚏 𝚏𝚞𝚗 𝚠𝚛𝚒𝚝𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚘𝚗𝚎, 𝚝𝚘 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚙𝚘𝚒𝚗𝚝 𝚒 𝚜𝚙𝚘𝚒𝚕𝚎𝚍 𝚒𝚝 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚍𝚞𝚖𝚙𝚎𝚍 𝚊𝚕𝚕 𝚖𝚢 𝚙𝚛𝚎-𝚙𝚕𝚊𝚗𝚗𝚎𝚍 𝚜𝚝𝚞𝚏𝚏 𝚏𝚘𝚛 𝚕𝚊𝚖𝚋 𝚒𝚗𝚝𝚘 𝚒𝚝.

𝙸 𝚜𝚝𝚞𝚍𝚒𝚎𝚍 𝚑𝚘𝚠 𝚗𝚎𝚠𝚜 𝚌𝚑𝚊𝚗𝚗𝚎𝚕𝚜 𝚙𝚛𝚎𝚜𝚎𝚗𝚝𝚎𝚍 𝚗𝚒𝚐𝚑𝚝𝚕𝚢 𝚗𝚎𝚠𝚜 𝚒𝚗 𝚝𝚑𝚎 80'𝚜, 𝚒 𝚑𝚊𝚍 𝚊 𝚋𝚊𝚕𝚕. 𝙸 𝚊𝚕𝚜𝚘 𝚕𝚒𝚜𝚝𝚎𝚗𝚎𝚍 𝚝𝚘 𝚊 𝚕𝚘𝚝 𝚘𝚏 80'𝚜 𝚜𝚘𝚗𝚐𝚜 𝚖𝚊𝚒𝚗𝚕𝚢 𝙲𝚑𝚎𝚛𝚒 𝙲𝚑𝚎𝚛𝚒 𝚕𝚊𝚍𝚢 𝚋𝚢 𝚖𝚘𝚍𝚎𝚛𝚗 𝚝𝚊𝚕𝚔𝚒𝚗𝚐. 𝙸 𝚑𝚘𝚙𝚎 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚛𝚎𝚚𝚞𝚎𝚜𝚝𝚘��� 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚎𝚟𝚎𝚛𝚢𝚘𝚗𝚎 𝚎𝚕𝚜𝚎 𝚕𝚘𝚟𝚎𝚜 𝚒𝚝 𝚊𝚜 𝚖𝚞𝚌𝚑 𝚊𝚜 𝚒 𝚍𝚒𝚍❣️

"This is channel 8; WCAT- TV, West Lake, Austin. This is the beginning of our nightly broadcast-" 

Colorful luminescence painted your small face. As the humid night breeze kissed your soft skin, adorning your soft angelic features with a rosy hue. The Texan air remained oppressive and dry even with the swelting sun shrouded under the starry horizon.

Yet, there you firmly stood. Attentively drawn to one of the many neatly stacked TV screens. Displayed behind the unclouded storefront window. Obnoxiously advertised with oversized retro price tags.

You almost felt guilty as you stood there. freely observing the news, with no intention of buying one. 

Nonetheless, your fingertips anxiously reached out for your chest. Seeking comfort from the gold cross, hanging from your beloved prayer necklace. petrified by the ominous name stretched across the screen, “Night stalker”. Looking upon the name was enough to make your stomach churn.

While fear held you still on that little crowded strip of sidewalk. Your round lips skewed with abhorrence, as uncensored crime scene photos were flashed upon the screen. 

Each brief photo was more unnerving than the last. Some were more gruesome than the last, prompting your gaze to deter. 

For once you were thankful for living in a small southern town. Leagues and miles away from surreal Hollywood horrors. 

Little did you know, Texas had its own slasher.

Maybe you should've turned your nose up at him, judged him solely off his roughed-up denim and torn-up blackened tee. 

Hell, you could've told him to piss off. After pretty boy "conveniently" bumped into you for the third time tonight.

But you were too kind, an element his chaotic life lacked much of. An element he felt he deserved.

"Hey there, You alright? I can give you a ride home if you need it doll." 

Dark jade metallic paint, worn and embellished with bubbling surface rust. The timeworn appearance of Johnny’s beloved Ford pickup didn't alarm you at first. Most four-wheelers in Central Texas were also well-loved. Some were practically tin cans on wheels, worse for wear. 

 Thus, you foolishly continued to trust him.

Until you were met with the pungent scent of sickeningly sweet, aged blood. Radiating from inside his raggedy little pickup. 

Nonetheless, the stale scent was soon overshadowed by the addictive signature of your fresh crimson. As it seeped into the truck's dark vinyl leather seat. Collecting every drop of blood that Streamed down the plush of your thigh.

Leaking from the dark scarlet void, Pierced into your hip. Repayment for the pristine mark of your teeth, deeply embedded upon Johnny’s scar-kissed hand.

While you battled with the intense pain, Johnny’s blackened leer studied your body. Although you were raised to behave and dress modestly, the Texan heat truly did you no favors.

Your dewy skin rendered your once modest sun dress, skin-tight. The soft cotton grew translucent as it snuggly hugged around your gorgeous waist. Presenting a tempting view of your plush thighs.

“That was real cute doll…” Johnny’s aggressive southern twang caused every word to rumble down from his chest to his core. With his dominant hand pressed on the small of your back, Pinning your pain-struck body down in place.

Callously forcing you to rely your weight and stability upon your elbows. And injured leg, while pressing your small face against the blood-stained vinyl.

The way your gorgeous gray eyes glimmered with each wave of pain, fed Johnny’s sadistic desire to hurt you further. Thirsting to see your small frame broken and trembling under him.

“Since you want to bite like a bitch, I’ll treat you like one.” His vague threat and condescending tone made you realize the precarious position he forced you into.  The increasingly rough grip upon you your ass acted as your only warning.

Before abruptly lifting your plush ass upwards. Mercilessly rocking your body downwards, flush against his navel. Carving his way through the soft plush of your inner thighs. A breathless moan escaped your lungs, as his tip playing against your sensitive clit. Was enough to send you over the edge alone, your body instantly falling into submission. Your back now lax, lewdly arching downwards.

Your cries were the sweetest, as they brought a heartless grin playing across his lips. Sadistically drowned in your symphony of angelic whines and pained whimpers. His thrusts grew slow and subtle, his smokey gaze examining his cream covered length. Glistening with each stroke against your needy cunt, embracing the fat middle of his cock between your wet slit.

Suddenly, you’d let out a pained cry, which hitched into a stressed hiss. “That’s it…” Johnny’s charming voice began to taunt you, as his dominant hand grasped your injured hip. Your addictive crimson pooled upon his palm, wasting through his fingers. Your knuckles began to turn white, as you dug your fists into the leather for comfort and stability.

Regardless, with thick cock-dunk tears clouding your view. Your body still refused to go limp, denying him the satisfaction of seeing you broken. All the while shooting a defiant glare toward him.

Promptly his rhythm would come to a pause, while inconspicuously moving your panties to the side. While letting out a short dry chuckle into the night air, “Don’t worry, I love a bitch with some fight left em.”.

Your precious eyes would widen, accompanied by a soft gasp. Feeling his tip prying at your tight gummy entrance, causing a series of sweet whimpers to fall from your full lips. ”Aww, come on I know your tougher than that!” Johnny's tone grew husky with lust, His aggressive twang now deeper.

 Mercilessly jerking his hips, sinking his thick length deep inside your unprepared cunt. His size overwhelmed you, as an intense flutter climbed up your spine. Stretching you out more than you’d ever been, his tip kissing your gummy cervix.

Your pathetic scream was drowned out, as his blood-soaked hand covered your mouth. Yet, with tears multiplying on your lash line. You’d shamelessly let out a whine from stifled pleasure.

“What? My bitch can't wait?” Johnny cruelly barked, addressing your desperation with a mocking tone. All the while slipping off his torn-up shirt, making sure to keep his cock warm and buried deep in your cunt.

Although his scar-kissed frame was now free of his shirt, he continued to deny you. Giving you tortuously slow strokes, enjoying how your face skewed with desperation and frustration.

“P-please- “Your round lips parted, spilling out needy cock-drunk pleas. Only to be rewarded with a firm grasp around your neck, his hips setting a rough rhythm. You barely had time to brace yourself for his unbearable pace. Your eyes would squeeze shut as your voice began to wear out from singing his praises. Soft wails and angelic screams rippled through the air, filling the isolated car park.

His chest rumbled with a low moan, bouncing you off his thick length at an erratic pace. Watching your plump ass ripple with each thrust, while your breasts bounced in unison. Relishing the lewd symphony of your plush ass roughly meeting his hips and your wet pussy squelching as you milked him. Your hot slick traveled, coating the veins that ran from the base of his cock, down to his balls.   

His pace never faltered, regardless of how your cunt spasmed and clenched around him tight. Your tear-glazed eyes opened wide as your body brutally jolted forward. His erratic pumps grew deeper, slamming against your weakening cervix, pulling at the knot built up at your core. Your breath now staggered and short, gradually growing weak under the firm gasp around your neck.

“I-I can't.” Your body would fall limp, lying down obediently, as your edge came rushing through your small frame. You’d feel Johnny’s weight on top of you, his bulky arms embracing you his impaling thrusts grew languid and sloppy. His frustrated grunt echoed through you as your cunt swallowed around him, milking him dry.

A choked exhale would squeeze out of your bruised vocal cords. Leaving your mindless, with little stars dancing upon your gaze.

“Fuck- “his toned stomach tensed in unison with his contracting balls. Johnny was damn near mindless himself, unknowingly choking you beyond your threshold. Releasing a pleased groan, as he painted your empty womb with thick hot milky ribbons.

The grip on your neck would loosen, prompting you to take in short puffs of air. Doe-eyed you stared back into Johnny’s velvet brown eyes. “I’m afraid yer mines now, I’ll take real good care of you.” His thumb caressed our cheek, painting your small face with your own blood. His lips would uncharacteristically seal his promise with a tender kiss on your cheek.

[feyascorner]

3 | The Fangs Between Us

summary. You hate him, you think. You want to hate him, at the very least.

“Are you afraid I’ll hurt you?” he asks, his expression indecipherable. “I didn’t realize the great savior of the city could be afraid of a mere vampire spawn.”

“You did try to strangle me last time we spoke."

warnings. angst, comfort, slow burn, reader is a bard, large chunks of italicized texts are flashbacks

pairing. Astarion x GN!Reader

parts. TFBU masterlist

a/n. redemption arc is coming i swear :) this is a whopping 4.7k i got kinda carried away but oh well,, Thank you so much for your comments on these they make my day and i appreciate each one<3

Dance upon the stars tonight

Smile and pain will fade away

“And what might our dear bard be working so passionately on?”

You look up from your notebook, ceasing the messy scribbling of lyrics into its tattered pages. Astarion perches himself beside you, the flames of the campfire flickering in the reflection of his eyes as you stop humming and raise a cautious brow. A vampire spawn. You’d never seen one in person–-only had you heard of them in your childhood tales of the spawn that would sweep away naughty children if they didn’t finish their vegetables. Up close, you can almost see his fangs protruding from the grin he's constantly wearing.

You wonder if it’s a genuine one.

“That bard at the grove today,” you recall. “Alfira? I’m trying to finish the lyrics and write them out for her.”

“Is that so? Surely you’re receiving some sort of payment for these gracious services?”

You train your eyes back onto the pages, shaking your head. “I’m doing this for fun. Her song is beautiful. It just needs—” you squint. “--adjustment.”

He laughs, and you can see the fangs clearly now. They’re sharper than you expected them to be. “I believe that’s a drastic understatement, my dear. My heart felt for those poor squirrels. I’m quite willing to bet that they have an aversion to bards now.”

“And you’re suddenly a musician yourself?”

“It doesn’t take a musician to recognize poor singing, darling Tav,” he returns. “And considering I’ve spent the past few days listening to your music, I’m sure you’ll understand why I considered it such an abomination.”

You narrow your eyes. “I thought you didn’t like me–or my music.”

“You? I'm still deciding,” he shrugs and you roll your eyes. “But I must say that I’m growing rather fond of that lyre of yours. Have you had it for long?”

You give him a sidelong glance before answering slowly. “I’ve had it for ages. Practically when I just started.”

“Explains itself then, I suppose.”

“And you?” you watch as he leans back on his palms. “Do you have any other talents to offer to our companions, or is it just your teeth?”

“Now, don’t be so cruel, dear,” he smiles wider. “If I didn’t know any better, I’d think you’re rather fond of them as well. Don’t think I haven’t noticed you staring all the time.”

“I’m on guard,” you clarify.

“Whatever helps you sleep at night.”

You’re not sure if you can sleep with one eye open, much less both of them closed. You’re not sure if you trust him at all, either, but as he stares up at the starry sky, simply listening to the crackling of the campfire, you decide you’d rather save yourself the energy for what awaits tomorrow.

“Why did you do that earlier?” you find yourself asking, and he replies by glancing at you from the corner of his eye.

“Do what?”

“Save Wyll from that goblin arrow,” you mumble. “I thought you didn't care about any of us.”

“And what gives you that impression?”

You deadpan, staring at him with lidded eyes and he laughs out loud. It sounds more genuine than anything else he’s offered so far. It's nice.

“It’s a simple transaction, dear. One where I receive protection in turn for the occasional aid I can give with my own blade.”

You squint at him, but you see no signs of deception. So instead, you simply nod and resume scribbling into your notebook, softly humming to yourself alongside the lyrics. And when you halt, stuck on a particular lyric that you can’t seem to remember, you hear him shift, standing himself back up to retreat to his tent.

“Something about faith and care comes next if my memory serves,” is all he says before striding away. While you watch him in confusion, you click your tongue and try to focus again. And when you look down at your page, you remember the rest of the words.

Somehow, you feel the corners of your lips lift.

“As much as I’d love for this to be a charming, long-awaited reunion, one of the parties imposes a danger to the other.”

You wince at the sarcasm dripping from Gale’s voice. Duke Ravengard’s expression remains solemn, unmoving like a stone, while your companion pinches the bridge of his nose in frustration. “We can’t harbor a vampire spawn in our home. We’re supposed to be finding them, not keeping them!”

You hate the irony of the statement because the camp you’d spent so many months in with an uninvited guest in your head, had also been your home. One where you spent your nights in a vampire spawn’s tent. It’s not so different, you keep telling yourself. But you’re painfully aware that the Duke only knows a sugar-coated version of the falling out between you and said vampire. He doesn’t know how his son had to tear Astarion away from you and how your voice had been sore for weeks afterward.

“As much as I have my own opinions with allying with a vampire spawn,” the Duke stares at Astarion warningly. “Wyll did say this spawn saved his life while your party ventured together. For that, I'm willing to see reason if he’s cooperative, rather than restrain him with the Fists.”

You never thought much of it until now. With how many life threatening experiences you and your companions had come across, it felt natural to save one another. At first, it had been out of necessity—fear that one person would turn into an illithid. Yet, with time, you'd all grown fond of each other, one way or another.

You think back to when Astarion had saved Wyll and wonder if that part of him is still in there. Maybe it was never there at all. Maybe it had been another one of his manipulation tactics that you're so prone to falling for.

Gods, you're hopeless.

The wizard standing beside you sighs irritably. “But that was before he tried to squeeze the life out of-”

“How long do we need to keep him?”

Gale balks at your words. “You can’t seriously be considering this.”

“Just until we’re able to locate the rest of the spawns spread throughout the city, which you kindly decided not to mention in our last conversation.”

You shoot Gale a glare, silently questioning if he’d been the one to confess the existence of the spawns underground, but he’s too busy scanning over Astarion, who’s mindlessly fidgeting with his knife. The said spawn seems to feel your gaze, because he glances at you, then grins.

The bastard is smiling.

“The man you killed this morning is a spawn himself, yes?” the Duke clarifies. “There have been numerous reports the past few days about strange figures with fangs throughout the city—I’d known they’d existed, but to the numbers that are being reported…”

“You couldn’t have possibly believed myself to be the only spawn around?” Astarion laughs bitterly. “I do not wish to go hungry, Duke, but I don’t need nearly as many bodies that’s been showing up—assuming that I did drink from anyone, of course.”

Ravengard ignores him, speaking as if he’s not there. “I could still have him detained if that is what you wish. We can continue as we have and search for the spawn without his help.”

You know it’s a fruitless effort if last night has told you anything.

“You don’t even have evidence that I drank from a single person in this entire bloody city!” Astarion spits back, rolling his neck in exasperation.

“No,” you purse your lips, finally looking up. “I’ll be responsible for him.”

Gale clears his throat alarmingly. “Now, dear leader, let’s have a private conversation before we make any hasty decisions, yes? Surely, we don’t have to decide right this moment.”

And while you open your mouth to respond that no, you won’t have Astarion rot away in some gross cell, the Duke nods. “Very well.”

Gale pushes you to the corner of the room, with his face clearly paling in disbelief. “Please tell me you’re joking. You want someone who nearly strangled you to death sleeping in the room next to yours?”

“Ravengard wants us to find out where the other spawn are hiding, and the only lead we have is sitting right there,” you defend yourself. “Throwing Astarion into a dirty cell won’t do anything to convince him to help us.”

“The Duke doesn’t know what he did to you!”

“He doesn’t need to. Astarion’s made it very clear he’s not going to spill any information if the Duke is the one asking, and we need a lead. I nearly died last night, Gale. I want to avoid that if I can.”

His eyes soften just a bit, but it’s enough. With a loud sigh, he scrunches his nose. “And you’re sure you’re not doing this for more personal reasons?”

At this, you pause. Your eyes waver, and the look Gale gives you is almost soul-crushing if it weren’t for the fact that you feel like you’ve already hit rock bottom. You know this is not a good idea. You know that being so close to him again after so many months is not a good idea, especially when you’ve just finally begun your journey to forget him.

You curse the gods above for your luck.

The silence prompts Gale to speak. “I’ll tell the Duke we can’t involve ourselves in this.”

“Gale,” your voice almost cracks. “Please.”

He doesn’t want to agree, you can tell. Any sane person wouldn’t invite a bloodthirsty vampire spawn who’s willing to use his own hands to kill his so-called lover into their home. You want to think that you’re void of bias, but you know it’s a pathetic attempt to reassure yourself. Still, the expression on your face must be quite the sight because Gale takes one look, glances at Astarion, then slumps his shoulders. You’ve won.

You hadn’t even realized the door had been swung open, where your other companions had been standing, taking one look at Astarion then to you. While Gale wallows in his own defeat, you turn to the others, eyes glimmering with a kind of hope that they haven’t seen in months.

“Your judgment’s gotten us this far,” Shadowheart sighs. “We’d be fools not to trust it now.”

Lae’zel clicks her tongue. “My blade is ready to slit his throat if need be. Just command me, and I shall.”

“We aren’t going to try to kill him," you retort.

“It’s only right to return the favor."

Dinner is awkward. You’re finally getting to try Gale’s stew, but it’s hard to focus on the taste when all you can feel is the searing stare of the person sitting across from you. He only has a goblet of crimson liquid in the same shade as his eyes in front of him, and it remains untouched as he takes in the rest of the house.

“So,” Gale offers. “What have you been up to?”

It’s not much, but it’s better than sitting in complete silence.

“Wandering the streets at night, mostly. Oh, and murdering half the city, apparently,” Astarion lets out his usual high-pitched laugh at the end, and your fingers tighten around your spoon. Shadowheart glares at him through her lashes, and you think she may lunge at him any second. You want to think you wouldn't stop her.

You feel for her, really. Being the group’s cleric comes with its advantages but also with the unspoken burden of watching your companions in pain. She’d been the one to ensure Astarion hadn’t left long-lasting damage to your throat. She’d been the one to soothe your headaches and cast a sleeping spell on you in hopes it’ll allow you to rest longer than just a few hours. She’d also seen you nearly bleed out multiple times, one of which occurred mere hours ago.

The sudden scrape of Lae’zel’s chair being pushed back catches your attention. She stands, lifting her bowl with her. “The air here is suffocating. Sort out your differences before I sort them out for you.”

The rest of you collectively nod. She doesn’t say anything else before leaving the room.

“The room at the end of the hallway upstairs is yours,” Shadowheart says finally. “Don’t bother me if you need anything else.”

She stands up as well, leaving her bowl in the sink before pacing up the stairs to her own quarters.

Somehow, the atmosphere is even worse now. You don’t dare lift your eyes from your stew, and you honestly hope it explodes before you have to sit here and drink all of it in this silence. Gale, thankfully, does not leave. Instead, he sets down his utensil.

“I suggest we have a set of rules in place–for the sake of everyone occupying this home,” he clears his throat. You shoot him a questioning look, which he dusts off.

“Fine,” Astarion leans back in his chair, now swirling the goblet of blood in his hand. “What do you have in mind?”

“No drinking. From anyone here.”

You blink a few times, then hear Astarion hum in acknowledgment. “Shame. Though your blood was vile anyway.”

“And don’t cause any trouble. One of us will go with you when you need to drink, so you can hunt for whatever animal you prefer these days. Otherwise, unless we say so, you’ll remain here.”

“Why, this sounds almost identical to a prison. Looking for a job as a warden, Gale? A midlife crisis, perhaps. Does wizard life not suit you anymore?”

“It suits me plenty, thanks,” Gale snorts. “We’ll be out during the day to rebuild the city, so you’ll have to entertain yourself in your own room. Don’t touch anything—especially my stuff.”

Astarion grins. “That almost sounds like an invitation.”

The wizard then turns to you. “And you? Do you have any other rules you’d like to add?”

You finally lift your head from the stew, looking back and forth between the two before shaking your head while pushing your chair back. For someone who’d imagined aimlessly for months about seeing your former lover again, you can’t seem to look him in the eye for fear of what you might feel. “I’m going out.”

“I’m going to take that as a no.”

Wordlessly, you pace toward the door, refusing to look back to suppress the urge to sprint back into his arms. You don’t know what you were thinking just a few hours ago, but this was not going to end well. If you couldn’t manage a simple dinner sitting across from him, what could you manage?

You’re in such a rush that you forget to bring anything besides your wallet.

By the time you’re on your way back to the house hours later, you have a backpack shoved full of fabrics with nails and a hammer to go along with it. As you pass by the taverns, you hear music playing from inside, alongside a few cheers and what you can only assume to be a crash of chairs as people applaud. 

You can’t help but peer through the window as you walk past, where a bard merrily plays on his drum, lightening the mood of the entire tavern—even the bartender smiles along as he plays tunes you’ve heard a million times before. And while your hands itch for a lyre—to feel the string snap against your fingertips—you know no good will come of it. You’ll only sit before the instrument, your hands unable to find the emotions to exert in the form of notes. 

As you stare at the bard, you remind yourself you’ve long given up on that kind of life.

So instead, you continue your way to the Highberry’s home. When you knock on the door, a very weary Cora Highberry greets you with bags under her eyes, but a calm smile still stretching on her lips nonetheless. She steps out of the way, inviting you in, and you do so.

“You didn’t have to, dear,” she says as she takes a bag of the city’s finest fruits from your hands. “The neighbors have been oh so gracious to us. They’re helping the children so much, I couldn’t possibly ask for more.”

“I was just passing by, that’s all,” you offer. “I wanted to check on you since I left a bit abruptly last time.”

“Oh, dear, you know how to make a woman feel special. It’s been terrible, really. I haven’t gone so long with my husband in ages…” she laughs, wiping at her swollen eyes. “But we were an old couple anyways…I had some time to prepare my emotions. I just didn’t think he’d go like that.”

You nod as she hands you a mug of hot tea. “But never mind that. I’ve spent the past two weeks talking about nothing but myself, so I’m quite tired. What about you, dear?”

“Me?”

“You look like death themselves,” she frowns. “I’ve lived for quite long…I recognize that heartbroken face anywhere. Has something happened?”

The way she’s staring at you—it’s different than pity. You can’t quite identify it, but she smiles again. It’s not the kind of smile most people give you—not one of anticpation, not one of gratefulness, but just a regular, old smile. And it makes your shoulders untense just the slightest before they tense again. You take a swig of the tea, nearly burning your throat in the process as you set the mug down, splitting a pathetic smile. “No, I’m okay. Just--tired.”

Very, very tired. Not physically, no, but tired of the indecisiveness that is your heart.

Her face falls softly. “How troubling it must be to have the weight of the city on your shoulders."

Before you can answer, there’s a loud thud upstairs. She notices your alarm and shakes her head. “Ah, must be Berry. She’s one of the younger children, and she’s been taking my husband’s death quite hard. Please excuse me, dear. I need to go put her back to sleep.”

And with that, you’re left alone on the first floor of the building again. You contemplate staying to say your farewells but the cries from upstairs convince you otherwise. Taking one last swig from the mug, you gather your things and leave.

When you get back home, it’s well into the night, an hour or two after midnight, you’d think. None of the lights are on, so the first thing you do is light a candle when you step through the door, dropping your backpack onto the dining room table. Dunking all your materials out, you take the hammer and start your work.

There’s something soothing about the darkness outside, with the way nothing seems to exist besides you and your own thoughts in a city that overflows with a sense of community. You try not to think about the man most likely reading in his room just a floor above you and focus on hanging the fabrics in front of all of the windows. The cloths are mismatched in color, and your hammer work is nothing more than sufficient, but it’ll do for now. At least until you can get actual curtains installed.

You worry that some of the fabrics aren’t thick enough to absorb all the sunlight, so you layer another fabric on top of it until you’re sure that even your candlelight cannot be seen from outside. Why you’re going so far for him, you do not know. You prefer to assure yourself that you need him to help stop the spawn from devouring the entire city, but even in your own thoughts, it sounds like a lie.

You wonder if he cares nearly as much as you do. He probably doesn’t.

You hate him, you think for the millionth time today. You want to, at the very least.

You flinch when a splinter in the wooden wall splits your skin open, forming a drop of blood on your index finger. Curse the heavens above, nothing was going right today. You quickly reach for a towel but nearly jump when you hear his voice from the stairs. 

“You really need to stop with that habit of yours.”

You spin around, and he’s already at the foot of the stairs, reaching to grab a towel from the kitchen. But you’re faster, snatching it away and pressing it over your hand while he raises both his own, imitating a surrender of getting any closer. You can’t look at him in the eye—you don’t want to either. “What habit?”

“You’re speaking to me now?” he raises a brow, and you turn away again after shooting him a glare. “I’d thought you’d avoid me forever—scurrying off like a squirrel whenever I step into the room.”

You should avoid him forever. But the words don’t reach your tongue, and you choose to ignore him.

He doesn’t budge. “I meant bleeding around me.”

“What?”

“Every time I see you, you always seem to be bleeding.”

You frown at him. “Maybe you just prefer being around me when I’m bleeding.”

“You might be right." You think maybe he’s done with this painfully awkward conversation until you see him staring at the windows covered with random pieces of fabric, and suddenly, you feel embarrassment creep up your skin. You realize how bizarre your actions must appear in someone else’s eyes, staying up to the break of dawn so that he’ll be able to traverse someplace outside the confines of his own room…

It might make him think you care, and the worst part is that a part of you does.

“I hope you don’t expect me to thank you, darling.”

The nickname feels like a stab to your heart, haunting, even, but you do your best to brush it off.

“For what?” you manage to force out through clenched teeth.

“The cell they would’ve thrown me into is nothing different from trapping me in that room, I’m afraid,” he laughs bitterly, and you want to crawl into a hole from how cold his voice sounds. Distant. Like how he’d sounded the day you found him next to his nautiloid pod. “But I suppose I should be grateful for having a bed instead of having to spend my days rotting away on the dirty floor?”

You bite your bottom lip, brows furrowing. “I don't expect anything from you.”

But you do. Not quite an expectation, but a lingering wish that maybe you can heal. It's pathetic, even in your own eyes and surely everyone else's, but you can't be bothered to care.

It pisses you off a bit. How he seems perfectly unfazed while you continue to drown in your own feelings.

“Are you just here to taunt me, or is there a reason for this conversation?” you snap. This is not quite how you wanted your reunion to go.

He raises a brow. “Taunt you? I'm only answering questions you're afraid to ask.”

“I don't need to know anything about you,” you grit through your teeth. “You left my mind the second you abandoned us.”

What a poor, wishful lie.

“Ha!” It doesn't really sound like a laugh—more a scoff of disbelief. It's like he knows what you're thinking, and for a split second, it feels like there's a tadpole in your head again. “Of course you think I'm the villain of your precious heroic tale! Honestly darling, the irony just writes itself.”

You fight the urge to scowl, but you're not sure if you're successful. You find yourself gripping onto the towel harder, teeth clenched as your chest tightens just hearing his words. You truly hate that he seems to care less than you—it’s like he's not even taking you seriously.

And that damned nickname.

It feels like talking to the Astarion you first met—one who’s only intentions were to use you—but this time, you don't think it’s a mask. He doesn't want anything more from you. Only your own suffering from taking the power that would have made him untouchable.

“So tell me, dear, do you wish for me to grovel at your feet?”

Your eyes widen, and the term of endearment that once made your cheeks flush only makes you feel sick. “What?”

“Do you expect me to drop to my knees, begging for your forgiveness?” he says again, eerily composed while you struggle to come up with words. “Perhaps I would have if we were still staying in that camp. Put on a show, even."

You frown, setting your hammer down on the counter. “I’ve never made you grovel. I’ve never made you do anything.”

“Maybe not directly, no, you’re too kind of a soul to do so,” there’s venom lacing the words that feel nothing short of a lie. Somehow, he’s still smiling. “Instead, you made me beg for your help. You accepted—made it feel like I had a choice. Then tore it away just the same, in the cruelest way possible. Impressive, really. I didn't expect such dramatic sins from you.”

The way he looks at you, words dripping with sarcasm, makes you want to melt into the floor, ceasing to exist as a whole. But alas, you continue standing like a deer in headlights, unsure of how to respond. You look down to see the towel stained with your blood and inhale deeply, watching the dark sky lighten with daybreak through the window. “The sun’s rising.”

His smile drops, something foreign flickering in his eyes. He suddenly steps toward you, and as soon as he gets within two feet, you find yourself stepping backward, your fingers tightening around the hammer. You have no idea if you'd even be able to use it, but it's better than digging your nails into your palms.

It doesn't go unnoticed.

“Are you afraid I’ll hurt you?” he asks, his expression indecipherable. “I didn’t realize the great savior of the city could be afraid of a mere vampire spawn.”

You don't want to think he'd truly kill you. Not really, but your mind flashes back to the look in his eyes when he had his hands wrapped around your lifeline, and you grip the hammer tighter, heartbeat pounding impossibly fast.

“You did try to strangle me last time we spoke,” you mutter.

His lip twitches, and he steps back bitterly. You feel like you can breathe again.“Ah, yes, that.”

You swear your stomach drops to your feet at the mere suggestion he’d forgotten what haunts your nightmares every night, forcing you to lurch from your rest in a cold sweat, hands shaking, and having nobody to turn to for comfort. He couldn't be that cruel…could he? You want to scream at him, punch him, kick him, tell him he’s not being fair. You want to defend yourself, say that all you’ve ever wanted was for him to be safe, but even that feels like too much when he’s giving you so little.

“Very well, I’ll indulge you,” he grins again. You realize your time is running out, the sun beginning to peer out from the horizon. “Why did you assume responsibility for me? I can’t imagine why you’d want such a terrible foe in your life living right next door of your own sanctuary.”

For the city, you tell yourself. For Cora's husband and the poor victims drained off their life, all alone in the darkest corners of Baldur's Gate. “...I didn’t do it for you.”

He searches your face for something, his eyes narrowing. He's waiting for you to continue, but there's no more fuel in the tank, and now you just want to sleep for a very long time. You assume he comes up empty when the corners of his lips fall, and he turns to climb up the stairs. Sunlight hits your back as your eyes trail him in his steps, and it does nothing to warm how cold it feels in the room.

“That much I’m aware,” he stops his steps for a brief moment. You barely catch it, but it's there. “Terribly aware.”

And when he finally leaves, you bury your face into your hands.

"I'm nervous."

"What for?"

"What if the ascension goes wrong? Are you sure we should really be doing this, Astarion?"

He brushes your hair out of your face, cupping both your cheeks in his hands. "We'll be okay, my love. I will still be here, and so will you. I'll just finally have enough power to protect what I care about."

He sees the hesitance in your eyes and leans his forehead against yours. You melt into his touch, placing your hands atop his.

"So please, stand beside me for this," he pleads.

And despite the way your intuition screams at you otherwise, despite the way your very being begs you to pull away, you nod, sealing your fate.

"I'll be right here."

Tags:@ayselluna @littleenglishfangirl @bg3obsessedsideblog @iwillpissyourpants @cyberpr1m3 @ukeia-uchiha @snowlotr @road-riot @spacekidnova @madislayyy @lordfishflakes @nicalysm @djarinsway @tinystarfishgalaxy @brainz00 @hopeful-n-sad @ohdeerieme @madisban @chrismarium @chonkercatto Please let me know if I didn't add you to the list or if you'd like to be added!

[willownwisp]

starry skies, blue eyes

ii. loving you and the little things you do. (re4r!leon x gn!reader)

author's note: no proofread i work and die alone. i write and called it a day,,, hehe,,, hurrah for second entry of leon valentine's advent !!!! this is actually two parts bc the fic on the third day follows the events after this fic. <3

cw: SFW, SILLY IDIOTS IN LOVE !!!!! part 2 of ree's leon valentine's day advent.

The baby blues melt into pink hues against the watercolor bloom skies as the sun slowly sets.

Leon presses a kiss to your temple as you both hike side by side to the camp site.

"Stay close, baby. It's getting dark soon. It's my bad, we should have gotten here earlier."

You blush and shake your head, it's not like he was at fault. Leon is a man of action, ask him what needs to be done and it is done. Perhaps it's drilled into him to obey and follow orders, or that after a turbulent run as a DSO agent, he just wanted to get away. Desperately so that the minute you impulsively chatter how romantic it would be to have a camping trip, he's on his ass getting ready that same day.

"No, lovey. It was spontaneous anyway. It's kinda more romantic, yeah?"

You giggle at him, linking your arms around his thick ones as it flexes underneath your touch as he guides you to the spot.

This playfulness earns you a sigh from him. Not one out of frustration, you know him. Know how his trauma operates in the way that there is a small cork in his heart that needed a bit loosening up before he shows his tenderness, it was a sigh of fondness from him as he pulls you close.

"Of course, baby."

He'd reply with a half-smile because you're adorable. The light to his life that seeps warmth in the cold crevices of his being. There was something in your spontaneous nature. Your laidback demeanor, and playfulness that had lured him in. A breath of fresh air.

It was almost night after that small hike, and you're currently faced with your mortal enemy.

Forgetfulness and a knot. A freaking knot.

You wanted to impress Leon by offering to be the one to set up the tent as he leaves you for a little while to gather wood for the fire.

How hard could it be to set up a small two-person tent?

You ask yourself, and this was your downfall.

Upon Leon's arrival, bringing in wood for the fire, he sets the wood down to roll his neck before removing his jacket. His muscles flexing underneath the fabric of his muscle fit turtleneck and you gawk at him like a horny teenager while pretending to be busy "reading" the manual for the tent.

Leon turns to you, oblivious to the fact that you were eyeing him.

"Do you need any help, baby?"

He asks, blue eyes and the softest gaze and fuck if he isn't the prettiest man on earth.

"Psh. Who? Me? Nah, I can do it lovey. People used to ask me for help with these you know. I'm like an expert."

A bald-faced lie, and you even had the audacity to throw a boast. In your defense, you do have the experience. The faint memory of your childhood suggests you do.

"I used to be a Scout, you know."

You give him a wink as a reassurance and he chuckles, an amused smile graces his lips as he pets your head.

"Wow, I didn't know I was in the presence of a camping veteran. I'm in your care, baby."

He replies with a playful wink, matching your energy before he turns to start the fire, busying himself with lighting up the wood and setting up the camp site.

Meanwhile you stew in the fact that you're screwed, and yet instead of helping yourself, your gaze wanders to that of your boyfriend.

You've always known that Leon is dependable. He's brilliant like that even if he doesn't see it. That seriousness in his sapphire eyes, the way he moves around to check for any hazards and dangers around the camp site. He was walking all over, completely engrossed with his tasks. Setting up the portable mini gas stove on the ground. You were just… staring.

You've always known you love him, but sometimes there are moments when you look at a person and that feeling of love washes over your being, because that's him. That's your boyfriend. The only Leon in the world, there with you. In this space, breathing the same air.

Your reverie is cute short when he calls out to you.

"Baby."

"Huh?"

You respond quite taken aback and Leon quirks his eyebrows at you.

"Are you okay? I've been calling you. Is there something on my face? You seem occupied."

He asks and you clear your throat before shaking your head to try and find your voice.

"Oh no, just… nothing."

You clear your throat again, but Leon's eyes narrow at you.

"You don't know how to set up the tent, don't you?"

He asks with a playful smirk on his lips and you respond with an over-the-top gasp of horror.

"Why I never!"

You huff and turn to tug on the little poles on the tent.

"I swear I still remember how to tie my knots!"

You exclaim before Leon looks at you and just… laughs.

A laughing Leon Kennedy is a treat, because you get to see him throw his head back in laughter, his dirty blonde hair delicately framing his pretty face and from up close you could see the mole on his neck. He was always so majestic.

You blush in embarrassment, but mainly at the fact that you were absolutely whipped for your boyfriend you can't help but admire him a like a living artistic sculpture.

"Baby."

He continues after he laughs, his arms wrapping around your waist as he hugs you from behind.

"You don't even need knots for that, all you have to do is put the poles in those holes."

He grins, looking down at your pouting face before snickering and kissing your cheeks.

"Aww, is my baby upset?"

He asks, tilting his head to get a clear view of your sheepish face, now blushing and huffing at him.

"Come on my Scout, let's put this up together yeah?"

He pulls away from you to give you a boyish grin, the look in his blue eyes is enough to get you to soften as you pick up the poles, with present pout.

Leon looks at you and he melts at how adorable you are.

Perhaps this is what makes life a little more light and a little more bright. The small things like the way you pout and the way you're already red-faced at light teasing. He doesn't say a word but only grabs your chin to plant a chaste kiss on your lips.

Short and sweet as he smiles.

"I love you. Let's go on camping trips more often."

You smile at that and nod. For Leon, this is what makes life bearable. Silly moments like this and the love that you two share.

[thehistoriangirl]

The Tides Have Veiled [Third Interlude]

First of all, I wanted to apologize for the delay. I got a problem with this story as I found out someone fed it to an AI. I was about to stop posting it and eliminate it altogether, but it'll be unfair for every one of you who had been so sweet and kind with me and so loving with this story.

We're officially in the middle, and I will walk all this way with you guys ❤️❤️ thank you so much for the support, and I'll read you soon!

Viktor x Fem!Reader /Gothic AU; Haunted Sea/----1.8K---SFW

> MASTERLIST <- Previous // Next ->

Synopsis:  Piltover the Old has an old lighthouse that looms over an abandoned port. From the house in the wailing cliff’s edge, the lighthouse owner watches that the beacon is being lighten up each time darkness arrives, so that monsters wouldn't dare to crawl inland, or so legends say. Both buildings are haunted, maybe even the man himself, by both past and present ghosts. Surprisingly, the keeper’s work is beyond turning on the beacon every night— but the rest is on you to discover.

Chapter Summary: One fateful night, you two say the thing that wasn't supposed to be.

Tags: Fluff | I'm emotional rn so it may be a bit sad | Some kissing | They say!!! the thing!!! | Needless to say please PLEASE do not feed it to an AI 😭😭😭

Taglist: @lunar-monster @local-mr-frog @bittercyder @blissfulip @ihopeinevergetsoberr @ultimateslasherfan @beeblybub (it's been so long I'm sorry if I forgot to tag someone!! 😭😭 remind me and I'll do it for the next ones :3 pinky promiseee)

Third Interlude: The Stars in Your Eyes

New moon. The perfect witness to keep secrets.

And it isn’t that Viktor wishes to maintain his feelings hidden, resurfacing like the high tide during full moon—rising every night during the solitude of the watch, with the familiar glow of your window visible from the tower until sleep took you for the day, the light of the candle extinguished.

But it a necessary illness he doesn’t mind to be afflicted with.

The place you ought to call house it’s so different to this lonely tower; avant-garde wallpapers are here but starting to chip off. There the candles burn with riches fragrances, while here the beacon illuminates, unforgiving, leaving oil prints all over his fingertips.

At least he can pretend to watch over your dreams from here, peering at the starry night. A childish desire to keep you away from nightmares soaked in crimson tides and women jumping out the cliff.

It’s the same tale of every night—to cocoon in the couch by the control panel, door close to avoid any flicking light filtering inside the room. A book resting on his lap, forgotten pens scattered all over the floor by his shoes. Today isn’t worthy of writing in the logbook. At least not yet.

The door creaks open, metal scratch against wood.

“Viktor,” your voice makes him jump. Between a dream and a ghostly whispering like the sea uses to do with each crashing wave.

He stands up from the couch, leaving the book he was reading closed without any mark. It doesn’t matter. Viktor doubts he knew what the chapter was about even before you arrived.

His hands are eager. They settle in the roundness of your cheeks, finding like a miracle that your skin it’s so soft and warm. “You’re really here.”

It wouldn’t be the first time the water fools him, allowing him to imagine both of you, floating weightless inside an infinite of blue. Hands intertwined.

You oughtn’t to fear the place you come from.

“I almost got caught,” you laugh, leaning against the safety of his touch. Against the cold surrounding you in her way toward the lighthouse, Viktor is your refuge. “They hired new fishermen. Mister Gavin was talking with them in his office up until midnight.”

That catches Viktor’s attention, obliged to recoil his touch. “New fishermen?” Upon his hiring as lighthouse keeper, Viktor had seen the dark silhouettes of the fishing boats sailing on open water during the night, where fish could be easily collected. Every journey, fewer boats get out. And even less returned.

“He has always been a greedy man,” you sigh, sinking into the couch. He hopes your shampoo gets imprinted in his pillow for at least a couple of days. Until he gets to see you again. “He doesn’t wish to understand Piltover will never be the same as it was thanks to her.”

Viktor settles next to you. “I suppose sometimes dwelling in the past it’s the only thing one can do to avoid going mad.”

He observes you, loving that intense gaze that could only be described as a frozen storm, cloudy and deep and dark from all the tears he’s sure you don’t dare to shed.

“I hope he goes mad,” your voice is barely audible. A shivery whisper that crawls inside his chest. “I hope I get to do it.”

That need starts to nudge again the gate of his reason. You’re not like this, he wants to tell you. The poison dripping down every syllable, breaking its enchanting cadence. But it would be senseless to utter so—because your family has sworn upon themselves to forge you into whatever monstrosity the townsfolk’s rumors proclaim.

“There lies the reason behind your current visits?” Part of him lets slip, a terrible weight settled onto his heart.

Your chuckle echoes, a whisper that would remain even after you leave. “No, Viktor. It isn’t.” You drink from his golden eyes, twin stars guiding your way. You aren’t sure what this night has of special. It’s just a moonless night, full of stars in the sky. The sea laps all the same. “I would never drag you into my mess.” Not as Gavin and his new wife had dragged Astraia, hoping for you to grow all alone, feeding the desperation to seek freedom.

“I wouldn’t have minded if you do,” he says, and your eyes start to blurry.

His fingers are rough and cold, yet he touches you with the same delicate nature one would hold a butterfly. Afraid that if he takes too much, you’d be all but a shattered dream.

“I’m happy here,” you mutter, the secret you’re so afraid to say out loud if bad luck ever tries to snatch it. “I can’t go anywhere, but here… here I don’t want to run away.” And it terrifies you. All your life, wishing to be someone else, to forsake the family name impose upon your existence. Yet not even the waves could take what runs through your veins. “I loathe this place with every fiber of my being, but now you’re here and… everything has changed.”

It's like it was before. The blue of the sea is shinier, and the call doesn’t reverberate in your bones with the ache of impossibility. It calls you home. Morphed into one endless way up into the end of every lament.

For the first time in so long, you don’t want to leave.

His smile breaks your heart, and you let yourself cry, letting him hold you while every tear erases the grey colors once painted over the vibrant memories of your mother’s tight embrace, her haunting voice calling you to sleep. The way the sand got under your toes after one swimming afternoon. All the ghostly laughter you blessed upon the cliff.

Before everything turned crimson and empty.

“I will keep this place safe,” he says, his voice muffled against your hair. “For you.”

Your hands grab his shoulders, and for a moment it seems like you wish to disappear in him, to forever echo the rhythm of his heartbeat as another lullaby.

You can’t see him, so he dares to deposit a kiss on your forehead, muttering things you cannot understand.

“Come with me,” he says after an eternity that’s cut too short.

*~*~*~*

The water’s cold, but it lights every nerve on fire once you submerge.

Viktor slips behind you, your hands never leaving his once your tears are erased by the sea water hitting in gentle waves. A moonless night with inky water, yet you don’t have to fear the abyss. You have never.

“Does your leg hurt?” you say, waddling toward him. You could guide him toward the cliffiside where the coral grows meters under the surface, so he could feel the fish between his legs and grab at the rock for safety.

“N-no,” Viktor shivers. “The cold helps to numb sometimes.”

It’s barely visible outside of the lighthouse’s rotating beacon, which give you enough courage to inch shamelessly closer, until your dress it’s tangled in his legs. Because it’s your time to hold him, soak him in your warmth.

Astraia’s words haunt you, but what reputation do you still hold? You don’t care to stain the last name they force you to keep.

“Numb what?” You can barely feel his hands ghosting over your back. Afraid.

He averts your gaze. But you can’t let him; with your warm hands cupping his cheeks. Despite the coldness, you could see the faint blush on his cheeks every time the lighthouse painted the waves gold.

“Are you afraid of me?” you whisper, his fingers intertwined with yours.

“Never.” His voice is gruff, the grasp so tight his knuckles are bone-white. “But… there are some things meant to remain hidden.”

“Why?” You know why, but you have stopped caring about the reason long ago. “I don’t want to keep them locked any longer.” It was as if sometimes they drowned you, blocking every breath from your throat at the mere thought of saying those words your tongue longed to express.

Your name has never been more precious that in the way Viktor whispers it. A prayer he covets for only him to call.

And you’ll let him. Of course you’ll let him.

“I don’t want to, either,” he says, golden stars fluttering close one his lips beckon yours, soft and pliant and so sweet. Barely a sheepish brush, before you push yourself closer, his hands grabbing handfuls of floating fabric on your lower back.

You get lost. Barely keeping afloat in the great tides of emotions sieging you. Yet Viktor doesn’t care if your lips taste like salt, if you’re shivering and breaking in sobs. Despite all the love, he knows it hurts—being loved hurts by the mere thought of all this being stolen with the same easiness it could be taken away.

But he won’t let it.

“You make me feel free,” you utter, breathless. And this otherworldly vision will forever haunt him; your bright eyes, swollen lips. The smile that’s just for him.

“I’m in love with you,” he says, his voice dripping with dread, the ever-present possibility of rejection.

Your laughter fills him with pain, but Viktor quickly realizes, by how you embrace him, that it’s not meant to be mocking. It’s euphoric, triumphant in the way you call for him. “Viktor, kiss me.”

And he does, up until the cold seeps into his bones, threatening into leaving him up to the design of the sea. Yet you hold him close, guide him back to the shore where you both lay in the sand like teenagers laughing at the constellations above because they would never have the brightest stars in all the skies, light only meant to gaze upon you.

And you love those stars, making them close so you can kiss them along with every precious feature of his face that you’re decided to carve in your memory.

Viktor embraces you despite the warmth of the sand seeping through your clothes, the humid summer air blowing hair into his face. You want to tell him the truth, to let your throat sore from a scream so everything and everyone could hear it.

But you’re afraid. You know this place always takes those who you love, and you dread for Viktor to be next. So you don’t, and instead, cuddle up right into his side, your cheek pressed against his chest as his breath slowly grows steady.

He’s asleep, but his hands are still taking yours, his chin over your head.

“I love you, too, Viktor,” you mutter, so low either he or the sea can hear you. Yet the lighthouse sees, casting shadows along your refuge on the coastline like a blanket.