#but in this one he's a lot more like his book counterpart

[rubykgrant]

Ah, yes- the BLUES and the REDS, not the REDS and the BLUES, sure would be neat if that wasn't so interchangeably confusing haha (I'm making fun of myself for not paying attention... this is exactly why I call Temple's group the Rues and Bleds!)

Anyway, here-

Temple; Never got the lead role in any school plays, and that sure didn't stay stuck in the back of his mind forever (yes it did). Was OBSESSED with Yu Gi Oh as a kid. Hair is naturally light brown and curly, but after the incident of Biff's death, he went through a whole thing about dying his hair darker with one streak of white in it to be dramatic. Is actually pretty good with kids (woulda-coulda been the best godfather to Biff and Georgina's kid). Was a little squeamish around blood already, even when he was younger. Wants to paint his nails, but sucks at it (official Cronut duty)

Biff; The only person who was a fan of all the "weird" oreo flavors (something Grif would've used as evidence to prove they are VERY different if they ever met), also genuinely licked black licorice and cadnycorn. As kids, his parents let him collect a lot of comics that Temple's family were more strict about, so they'd only read them at Biff's house. Not really into horror movies, but liked spooky books (more of a soft spot for animated emotional movies). Had short, sandy-blonde hair

Surge; Actually younger than his Blood Gulch counterpart (somewhere in his late 30s-early 40s, still a bit older than the other guys, but not exactly a "gruff old man"). Not actually a Colonel OR a Sargent (he was indeed leader of his Red Base, and was fine with people mistaking him as a Sargent because it sounded similar to his name, but his rank was lower. once they all form their own team for revenge, he just promotes himself Colonel for the heck of it). Failed medical training even worse than Doc. Acts brave in battle, but if left alone, turns into a coward. Is a natural red-head (Sarge would be jealous)

Gene; Outwardly a suck-up, but no actual admiration for any authority figure (HATES Surge. Wishes Temple was more susceptible to compliments, Gene likes him as a leader just slightly more, and admires the effort of being a whole VILLAIN). He's almost similar to Felix, but absolutely NO charming social skills, and far less threatening without back-up or an absurd amount of weapons. Would be one of those people who home-brews and is really obnoxious about it. Used to have a reoccurring nightmare of the evil penguin from Wallace and Gromit trying to Get Him. Loves horror movies. He was actually the newer rookie on his Red Team

Cronut; Out of armor, he's the shortest guy in Temple's group (and although he's a decent fighter, he's not as physically strong as Donut). Has this weird crush on Gene, in which he "flirts" by picking on him (like kids in middle school. Gene doesn't really get it). Also picks on Bucky, but by tricking him with wordplay (Cronut pulls a "Bugs Bunny" on him all the time, and does the "It's not Opposite Day, which means it IS Opposite Day" thing just to confuse him). While he has no personal stakes in their big "mission", he still fans the flames of Temple's revenge because he wants to see more drama

Buckey; Used to be so incredibly repressed and self-isolated growing up, and is a now an obnoxious creep, just a total reverse. Too contrary for his own good, even if somebody agrees with him, he'll spin it into an argument, then complain that other people are too sensitive. However, he also doesn't really hold a grudge (short attention span). Has the best aim in the entire group, probably could have been a lethal sniper (if he ever shut up). The only person, ironically, who put up with his BS long enough to get through a conversation with him was Biff when one or the got temporarily captured (Temple would be very upset, but Buckey hasn't brought it up. again, short attention span, forgot he almost had a real friend)

Loco; Got shuffled around a few other groups before being on Blue Team with Temple, with the others being a little too good at the "fighting to the death" thing... Loco liked the Desert Gulch group, because he thought he finally found some people who were so bad at hurting each other, they'd all just be OK (and then they lost Biff). Loco knows Biff was Temple's best friend, but still considers Temple HIS best friend, and is fine with that. Had big plans to help everybody get along better once they were done with the mission and things settled down. Never got to have pets as a kid (just didn't have the chance or space for animals at home). Doing laundry is comfort activity that helped him relax (thank goodness, none of these other guys remembers to do it). Has slightly poor eyesight, but doesn't realize he needs glasses

drop ur blues and reds thoughts or hcs please im desperate

[d1stalker]

All of You, All of Me [Logan Howlett]

Summary: In a world of black and white, the only person who could bring colour to your life is the last one who'd want to.

Warnings: au where everything is black and white until you meet your soulmate, fem!reader, slow burn, angst, running away from feelings, pining, grovelinggg WC: 14.2k - MASTERLIST - A/N: help i'm sorry i didn't mean for it to get this long, but this fic is my baby

----

You've always cherished the idea of having a soulmate—someone who would love you unconditionally, waiting just for you as you them. The thought of finding that perfect match, the one who complements you in every way, is something you’ve always dreamed of. 

But as you get older, the hope you carry seems to dwindle more and more each year. Everyone around you has found their other half, reveling in the newfound ability to see colours in all their glory, and soaking up every moment of shared affection.

Everyone, except for you.

Your world remains a stark, colourless void, as if the universe is deliberately withholding the one thing you desire most.

And to make matters worse, despite not finding your soulmate, you are unequivocally, irrevocably in love with someone who has.

Logan Howlett.

You can’t remember a time where you didn’t feel anything toward him. His rugged, lone-wolf demeanor snuck its way deep into the crevices of your heart, and made itself a home there.

You and him formed an unlikely friendship, formed through the desire to fight back against all the people who’ve wronged mutants. Over the years, you had accepted the fact that while he wasn’t yours, at least you were alone together. Well, until she came.

Jean Grey.

She was strong, charming, and everything you felt you weren’t. It was no wonder her and Logan were meant to be together—the stoic, brooding mutant and his graceful, strong-willed counterpart. 

You remember the day it happened so vividly, it’s almost like you were the one who found their life partner. You and him had been walking around the mansion, when Charles had called you into his office to meet someone new. One look at their faces when they made eye contact and you knew you’d lost him.

It pained you to see them all over each other, all the time. Your once-regular walks in the garden became rare, then vanished entirely. On missions, he no longer looked out for you; his attention was consumed by protecting her. And as much as it hurt, you couldn’t deny they seemed perfect for each other—just as soulmates should be. You had no right to feel jealous.

Then, just as quickly as she had entered his life, she left it. 

The Pheonix was too strong, ripping her apart from the inside out. The pained scream he let out as not only his heart died, but as the world around him faded back into black and white, was forever ingrained into your memory. 

Logan was never the same after that.

 —

You trudge down the familiar halls of the mansion, your feet heavy with the weight of the day. It’s been long, filled with training sessions, team meetings, and a lot of paperwork. All you want to do is retreat to your room, lose yourself in a book, or maybe just sleep until the ache in your chest dulls.

As you walk, you hear faint commotion down the hallway—a low murmur of voices and the occasional clatter of something being moved. But you pay it no mind, too lost in your thoughts to care. Another mission, another discussion, another moment where you aren’t needed. It’s all so routine now.

Lost in your reverie, you don’t notice the figure walking toward you until it’s too late. You collide with a solid chest, the impact jolting you back to reality.

“Oh, sorry—” you begin, stepping back, but the words die on your lips as you look up.

It’s Logan.

Your breath catches in your throat as you stare at him, shock rippling through your body as you process his presence. And for a moment, neither of you speak. You just stand there, taking him in—the man who was once your closest friend, the man who was torn apart by grief and loss. His clothes are rumpled, his skin rougher than you remember, like he’s been through hell and back. 

You hadn’t seem him in a long time. After the devastation, he stopped talking to everyone. He holed himself up in his room for days at a time, only coming out in the dead of night to eat. Either that, or he was away on a mission–anything to stay distracted. 

But now, looking at him, there’s something different off. Something you can’t quite place your finger on. Did he always look like that? Maybe it’s the way the light above is reflecting off of him. Or maybe it’s—oh.

Looking around in surprise, you watch as the usually dark, stoic walls explode into a deep, rich shade. The carpet below you—no longer a mural of grey—radiates colors you can’t name. Your hands, his eyes, his hair-

You want to open your mouth and say something, anything, to the man who has caused your world to shift on its axis, but he’s already turned, walking away from you.

“Give me a fuckin’ break.”

----

Brown. Logan’s hair is brown.

After Logan leaves you paralyzed in the hallway, you run to your room, find the book on colors you had stashed in your bedside table, and throw open the cover. In it is a diagram that displays every known colour and their names. You learn that your favorite pair of pants are maroon, your bedsheets are navy green, and the X-Men suits are bright yellow and blue.

You stare at the page, each word blurring as your mind tries to process the impossible. Logan’s hair is brown. The thought keeps repeating in your head like a mantra, over and over again, until it becomes a steady thrum, drowning out everything else.

Brown.

You sit back on your bed, letting the book slip from your hands, the pages crumpling as it hits the floor.

Why him? Why me? Why now?

You begin to fidget, the adrenaline of the prior moment causing your heart to flail in your chest like crazy. You can’t stay here, you think to yourself. The idea of locked in your room with only your thoughts for company does not sound appealing. You need air, something to ground you, something to clear the haze clouding your head. Without thinking, you jump out of bed and find yourself heading up to the roof, the one place where you can breathe without feeling like the walls of the mansion closing in on you.

The trip up the stairs feels longer than ever before, each step heavy under the weight of your mind. It’s like every thought adds ten pounds. When you open the door, the cool night air hits you like a welcomed slap to the face, and you exhale deeply.

Walking to the edge, you lean against the railing. You’re in a daze - wondering if you made up the entire thing in your head. The only proof that you haven't, and that Logan being your soulmate is real, is the colours that coat the mansion’s grounds. The moonlight bathes everything in what you now know as a soft, silver glow, and for a moment, you just stand there, looking out into the distance.

It doesn’t make sense, and the more you try to wrap your head around it, the more tangled your thoughts become. You don’t want to face the possibility of what it could mean, but you can’t just brush it aside either. It has quite literally changed your entire life. 

You close your eyes, taking a deep breath in an attempt to quiet your racing mind. But when you open them again, you freeze.

Logan is standing at the other end of the roof, leaning against the wall with his arms crossed, his gaze fixed on the sky. He hasn’t noticed you yet, and for a split second, you consider turning back, retreating before he sees you. It would be a wise idea - he didn’t want to talk to you then, and he probably doesn’t want to talk to you now. But, it an act that can only be seen as your own body betraying you, you take a step forward. 

The sudden movement catches his attention, and his head snaps in your direction, his eyes locking onto yours. 

“Why are you here?” he asks accusingly.

You hesitate, unsure of how to answer. Seeing him out here was the last thing you had expected, and now that he’s in front of you, you are at a loss of words.

Logan’s eyes narrow, and he pushes off the wall, walking toward you. “You shouldn’t be here.”

“I needed air,” you manage to say, swallowing the lump in your throat. “I just needed to clear my head.”

“Well, find somewhere else to do it,” he snaps, “I don’t want company.”

“Logan, I—”

“Don’t,” he interrupts, not even bothering to hear you out. “Don’t start. I know what you’re gonna say, and I don’t want to hear it.”

You blink, taken aback, and hurt at his coldness. “What are you talking about?”

He lets out a low, humourless laugh, running a hand through his hair. “You think I don’t know what’s going on? God, I… this is all so fucking stupid.”

Your heart skips a beat, and you feel a flush of embarrassment rise to your cheeks. “I wasn’t—”

“Enough!” he barks, his voice echoing in the night. “I’m not interested, alright? Whatever it is you think is happening between us, it’s not real. It’s just some stupid trick of the universe, and I’m not playing along.”

His words hit you like a physical blow - like you’ve just been shot at right in the heart - and you have to bite your lip to keep from crying out. “I don’t understand. I didn’t mean for any of this—”

“Yeah, well, neither did I,” he snaps at you, “And I’m not gonna sit here and pretend like there’s something here,” he gestures between you two, “when there isn’t. You’re not mine, and I’m sure as hell not yours.”

The finality in his tone leaves you breathless, and for a moment, all you can do is stare at him. You have nothing to say back, he’s not giving you any slack. The reality of his rejection sinks in with a brutal, crushing weight, you have to put in effort to not stumble over. 

After a long moment, you finally collect yourself. Then, “Okay,” you whisper. “I understand.”

Logan’s expression doesn’t soften; if anything, it grows colder, more distant.

“Good. Then stay away from me.”

You nod, eyes filling with tears. You quickly turn your face away, not wanting him to see just how much he’s hurt you.

“I’m sorry,” you murmur, barely audible. “I didn’t mean to make things worse for you.”

He doesn’t respond, doesn’t even acknowledge your apology. He just turns away, his back to you, effectively shutting you out.

You stand there for a long moment, watching him walk away for the second time that night. The colours that seemed so vibrant, so full of life just a moment ago, now feel like a cruel reminder of everything you could never have.

—

When you eventually return to your room, all you can do is lay in bed and stare up at the ceiling as your encounter with Logan on the roof replays in your mind on an endless loop, each harsh word he’d thrown at you cutting deeper than the last. It’s causes pain unlike anything you’ve ever felt before, pain that seems to have no end, no respite.

If he doesn’t want you in his life, you’ll accept that. You have to - it’s not like you have a choice. Soulmates are a two-way street.  

You can’t force him to feel something he doesn’t, can’t make him see you in a way he clearly never will. And you understand, don’t you? You can’t even imagine how difficult this would be for him. Losing your soulmate, and then the universe saying Fuck You and giving you another? 

You’ll never ever forget how wrecked he was when Jean died. How her death shattered him into pieces so small you weren’t–no–you’re still not sure he’ll ever be whole again. 

And you—where do you stand in the grand scheme of things? Just as the unfortunate recipient of a bond that neither of you asked for? Are you even allowed to be upset about this?

—

Waking up the next morning, you honestly wish you hadn’t. You knew you weren’t on good terms with Logan after his little rooftop showcase of emotions, but nothing could have prepared you for the way he starts to treat you.

His face is stuck in a perpetual scowl when you’re in his vicinity. He’s leaving every room the moment you enter, refusing to look at you, speak to you, or acknowledge your presence in any way. It’s as if you’ve become invisible, a ghost haunting the same halls you once shared with him. There’s only one thing you two seem to wordlessly agree on: don’t tell anyone. 

Each day following becomes a struggle, an unbearable test of your strength as you try to make it through without breaking. You begin to avoid Logan as much as he avoids you, but the mansion is only so big, and there are always moments when you catch sight of him in the distance, his broad shoulders hunched, his brooding face glaring daggers in your direction. 

It hurts you every time, an unending torture that leaves you stumbling. Still, you bite your tongue and keep moving, pretending you don’t care.

But you do care. You care more than you want to admit, more than you think is possible. Because despite everything—despite the rejection, the coldness, the anger—you still love him. 

And that’s the cruelest twist of all.

So you endure it, day after day, week after week, month after month. Letting it tear you apart piece by piece, because what else can you do? You carry this burden alone, just as you’ve carried your feelings for him all these years. And maybe one day, the pain will fade, the bond will weaken, and you’ll be able to move on.

—

The only person you tell is Charles.

“What’s on your mind, my child?” he asks one day, while you’re sweeping the dust in his office. 

You hesitate, your gaze dropping to your hands as you focus on cleaning. You know he’s just asking out of courtesy, and that he could easily crawl into your mind and figure it out himself. He probably wouldn’t even need to put in that much effort, given how loud your thoughts are. But still, you don’t yield to his probing.

“Nothing, really,” you mutter, forcing a small smile that doesn’t reach your eyes. “Just… tired, I guess.”

Charles watches you carefully, his eyes full of the warmth and compassion he always has, but this time, it makes you feel uncomfortable. Like he can see right through the facade you’re trying so hard to maintain, which you have no doubt, he does. 

“I’m here to help, whatever the burden.”

You want to groan. It’s not like he’s doing it on purpose but damn does it feel like he’s trying to guilt you into confessing that you just recently had your heart shattered. 

“I know, Professor. But… it’s nothing you need to worry about.”

“You forget, I worry about all of you,” he replies gently. “It’s in my nature.”

The chuckle that crawls out your throat is nothing short of bitter. “It’s just… complicated.”

“Complicated doesn’t mean you have to face it alone.”

You bite your lip, trying to keep the emotions at bay. Do you really want to explain to him the insurmountable suffering you’re in, the rejection you faced from the one person who is supposed to be your soulmate? How can you tell him that the bond the universe forged is the very thing tearing you apart?

“It’s just… I don’t know how to make sense of it, Professor,” you finally admit, your voice barely above a whisper. “Everything’s so… wrong.”

He leans forward slightly, his gaze never leaving yours. “Wrong how?”

Knowing that you’re teetering into confession territory, you hesitate, needing time to collect your thoughts. 

“Logan… he… we… It’s not supposed to be like this, is it?” you eventually get out. Not your best work, but you know he’d get the gist. 

Understanding dawns in Charles’s eyes, and you can see the sympathy there, the quiet acceptance of the truth you’re struggling to voice. “The bond you share… it’s more than you expected, isn’t it?”

You nod, feeling the tears well up again. “But he doesn’t want it. He doesn’t want me.”

The professor sighs softly, and he looks at you like you’re a lost puppy. “Logan has been through so much, more than most could bear. His heart has been wounded in ways that are difficult to heal, and it’s not surprising that he would resist this new connection.”

“So why me?” you ask. “Why bind me to someone who will never love me?”

Leaning back in his chair, his fingers steepled thoughtfully, he says, “I wish I had an answer for you, my dear. The universe works in mysterious ways, ways that often defy our understanding. But I do know this: the bond you share is there for a reason. Whether it’s meant to bring you closer or to teach you something important… that remains to be seen.”

“It feels like a punishment,” you whisper, the tears finally spilling over. As much as you hate being put on the hot seat, you can admit that it feels good talking to someone about it.  “Every day, it hurts more. And he won’t even look at me. I don’t know how to make it stop.”

“The heartache you’re feeling is profound, but you must understand that it’s not your fault. Logan’s reaction isn’t a reflection of your worth, but of his own pain and fear.”

He reaches out, placing a comforting hand on your own before continuing.

“To love, even when it’s not returned, takes incredible courage. But you must also take care of yourself. Give Logan the space he needs, and in the meantime, allow yourself the grace to heal.”

So you do. In the days that follow your conversation with Charles, you make a promise to yourself—to try, really try, to focus on your own life, to reclaim the parts of yourself that have been overshadowed by the pain of this unrequited love.

The colours are still there, vivid and vibrant, and though they sometimes feel like a bittersweet reminder of what could never be, you find moments where they bring you joy. You marvel at the deep blue of the sky, the rich greens of the trees, the way the sunlight filters through the leaves and paints the world in golden hues. It’s like seeing the world anew, and in those moments, you allow yourself to feel happiness.

Moreover, you busy yourself, volunteering for every assignment that comes your way. The adrenaline, the focus, the purpose—they all help to drown out the pain, even if only temporarily. And when you return from each mission, tired but satisfied, you feel a little more like yourself again.

The mansion, too, becomes less of a prison and more of a home once more. You start spending more time with the others, rejoining them for meals, for training sessions, for movie nights. 

You laugh with Rogue, spar with Scott, and even find yourself engaging in playful banter with Remy. It’s not perfect, and there are still moments where you catch yourself faltering, when the weight of everything threatens to pull you under, but those moments are becoming fewer and farther between.

You’re healing, slowly but surely, and with each passing day, you feel a little stronger, a little more in control of your life—of your emotions. 

But then there are the times when you cross paths with Logan, and those moments are the hardest.

One evening, after returning from a particularly grueling mission, you find yourself heading toward the kitchen, your mind on the sandwich you plan to make. The place is quiet, most of the team out on various assignments, or finishing up on some work, and you relish the peace as you walk down the corridor.

However, just as you reach the kitchen door and push it open, you find Logan standing there, preparing to exit the room at the exact same moment. Your heart lurches, and you stop dead in your tracks, almost like a deer caught in headlights. 

His gaze meets yours, and all you can see is his impassive, stoic expression. He steps back, giving you space to enter, but the tension between you is palpable.

“Sorry,” you mumble, stepping to the side, trying to make yourself as small as possible.

Logan doesn’t say anything, barely nodding—if you could even it that�� before brushing past you, his shoulder grazing yours. The brief contact sends a jolt through your system, and you have to force yourself to stay still and not physically react. 

Once he leaves, you let out a shaky breath, your heart still racing from the encounter. It’s been so long since you’ve been this close to him—so long since you’ve seen the deep brown of his hair that you love so much. You hate this. 

Why does he have no reaction to at all? Why is it only you who seems to care? 

Because you are the only one who does care.

You move into the kitchen, still intent on eating, but it’s a challenge. Your hands are trembling.

—

It all comes to a head one night during dinner. In this rare occasion, both you and Logan are in the same room. You’re supposed to be celebrating Rogue and Gambit’s anniversary, and even though you insisted that they share this special moment together alone, they didn’t take no for an answer. 

That’s how you find yourself, sitting at the grand dining table with all your friends, and Logan. 

He’s across from you. Just your luck.

He refuses to spare you a single glance, his eyes staying busy the whole night. And while it’s been months and months of this, you have never gotten used to it. Still, you can’t help but sneak a few looks at that chocolate-coloured hair. Brown. 

Everything seems to be going smoothly, the food is delicious and the dessert even better, but when Gambit presents Rogue with a giant painting, that’s when you slip up. 

“I love how you blended the red with the blue!” You compliment, loving the way he managed to create the perfect contrast between shades. You’re too caught up in staring at the artwork to realize the table as gone deathly quiet, all eyes on you.

Rogue's expression is one of gentle confusion, her head tilted slightly as she tries to make sense of your words. “Darling, I thought you couldn’t see colour?”

In any other situation, you’re sure the team would have laughed at how comically large your eyes got, and how all the blood draining from your face makes you look like a gaping fish, but in this moment, nothing is funny. You can feel Logan’s eyes on you, and when you finally muster the courage to glance at him, you see that his all-too familiar glare you’ve been subject to for the last half-year. It makes your heart thud painfully in your chest

“I…” you begin, but you falter. Your mind is going through a thousand thoughts per minute, searching for an excuse you can use to deflect, to pretend it was just a mistake, but the silence is too heavy, too demanding.

Rogue’s confusion deepens, her gaze flickering between you and Logan, who is now staring at you with an expression that’s impossible to read. She starts to say something, but Remy gently places a hand on her arm, shaking his head slightly as if to tell her to let you speak. 

Logan’s gaze stays locked on you for a moment longer. Then, without a word, he pushes his chair back, the legs scraping harshly against the floor. The sound echoes in the silence, and before you can react, he stands up and walks out of the room, his movements stiff, almost mechanical.

The door closes behind him with a quiet click, and the tension in the room thickens. You feel a rush of embarrassment flood through you, your heart sinking as the reality of what just happened crashes over you. 

You lower your head, your eyes stinging with tears that you fight desperately to hold back. But it’s no use. The emotions you’ve been trying to keep buried for so long bubble to the surface, and before you can stop yourself, the tears start to fall. 

“I think I need a moment,” you manage to whisper, your voice trembling as you stand up from the table. Without waiting for a response, you hastily excuse yourself and head for the door, not before mumbling a quick apology to the couple in which you were there for.

Soon you find yourself outside in the gardens, the nightly breeze hitting your face as you make your way to a secluded bench. You can’t even appreciate the beauty in what you see, because all you feel is the overwhelming sense of failure and sadness that threatens to swallow you whole.

Sitting down heavily on the bench, you bury your face in your hands and let go. The sobs come hard and fast, each one ripping through you with a force that leaves you breathless. You’re heartbroken and angry and absolutely over it, but at the same time you feel like a massive asshole because who are you to be upset with a man who’s mourning the loss of a soulmate? 

It’s not fair.

You don’t know how long you sit there, lost in your grief, but eventually, you hear the sound of footsteps approaching. You look up, wiping at your eyes, and see Scott walking toward you.

“Mind if I join you?” he asks gently.

You shake your head, unable to find your voice, and Scott sits down beside you on the bench. 

“I’m sorry,” you croak, “I didn’t mean to ruin the night.”

Scott clicks his tongue in disagreement, his gaze focused on the gardens ahead. “You didn’t ruin anything. It’s clear you’ve been carrying this burden for a long time. It’s no wonder it slipped out tonight.”

“So everyone knows now?” you ask. He nods.

“It wasn’t hard to put two and two together,” he concludes, and you groan, bringing your hands to your face.

“I just… I didn’t want anyone to know. I didn’t want to be pitied.”

“Pity isn’t what anyone feels right now,” Scott says softly. “We’re worried about you. You’ve been hurting, and we didn’t see it. That’s on us.”

“It’s not your fault,” you bring your hands down from your face. “I’ve been trying to deal with it on my own. I thought I could handle it, but… clearly I was wrong”

With a serious expression, Scott turns to look at you. “I know what you’re going through, more than you might realize.”

You glance at him, surprised by his words. “You do?”

He nods, a sad smile tugging at the corners of his lips. “I was in love with Jean, remember? When her and Logan found out they were soulmates… it tore me apart. I didn’t think I’d ever be able to move on, and for a long time, I couldn’t.”

The mention of Jean’s name brings a fresh wave of emotion crashing over you, but there’s also a strange comfort in knowing that Scott understands your pain. “How did you… how did you get through it?”

He sighs, “It wasn’t easy. It took a long time, and I had to accept it.”

You wipe at your eyes again, sniffling as you try to compose yourself. “I’ve been thinking about leaving for a while. Taking a longer mission, just to get away for a bit. Maybe then I can figure out how to move on.”

He is quiet for a moment, considering your words. “If that’s what you need to do, I understand,” he says, “sometimes, a change of scenery can help. Though I think you should try to talk to Logan again.”

Letting out a bitter laugh, you shake your head. “I don’t know if he’ll even listen to me. He’s made it pretty clear how he feels.”

“He’s hurting too,” He decides, “He’s not handling it well, but that doesn’t mean he doesn’t care. You both need closure, and running away won’t give you that.”

“What if it just makes things worse?”

“It might.” Scott places a comforting hand on your shoulder. “But it might also give you both the chance to start healing. You deserve that chance.”

You nod slowly, letting the weight of his words sink in. “I’ll… I’ll think about it.”

“Take the time you need,” he says. “We’re all here for you.”

“Thanks, Scott. That means a lot.” You offer him a small, grateful smile.

With a final nod, he turns and walks back toward the mansion, leaving you once again alone in the quiet of the gardens. You take a deep breath, the idea of leaving still tugs at you, but now, there’s also the thought of confronting Logan—of finding some kind of closure, whatever that might mean.

You really don’t want to do it, and you’re pretty sure it’s just going to end the same way it did last time - with him shutting you out. But Scott’s words echo in your mind, reminding you that healing often requires confrontation, not avoidance.

Goddamn it.

You huff as you stand up from where you’re seated. You can’t keep running from this, can’t keep letting him run from this. You need to talk to Logan, to lay everything out on the table, even if it tears you apart in the process.

Your anxiety builds with each step as you approach his room, and you pause outside his door, your heart pounding so loudly you’re sure he could hear it if he was listening. This is it. There’s no turning back now. With a shaky breath, you finally raise your hand and knock. 

There’s a long, agonizing pause, making you strain to hear any movement on the other side. For a second, the silence causes you think he might not answer, that he might just ignore you like he’s done so many times before. But then, you hear the faint sound of footsteps approaching the door. Your heart catches in your throat as it slowly opens, revealing Logan standing there, his expression hard and unreadable.

The moment he realizes it’s you, his eyes darken, and he immediately moves to close the door, shutting you out yet again. However, you’re not letting him get away that easily. Before the door can fully close, you stick your foot out, blocking it with more force than you intended.

“C’mon, Logan,” you press. “You know we need to talk.”

He freezes, his grip on the door tightening until his knuckles turn white. His jaw clenches and unclenches, nostrils flaring. He still doesn’t look at you, his gaze fixed on some distant point as if he can will you away if he tries hard enough. But he doesn’t push the door shut either. The room is thick with suspense, both of you standing there in a silent standoff.

Finally, with a low growl of frustration, Logan steps back, opening the door just a smidge wider, barely enough for you to squeeze through. It’s a reluctant invitation, but it’s all you need.

“Fine,” he mutters, his voice rough, edged with irritation. “Talk.”

You step into the room, and he closes the door behind you, lingering close to it, as if he’s ready to bolt at any second. You feel vulnerable and exposed. It’s suddenly hard to gather your thoughts when he’s standing so close, when the heat of his presence and the distance he’s placed between is right in your face.

“Why did you come?” Logan questions. He still refuses to look directly at you, his gaze fixed somewhere over your shoulder.

“Because we can’t keep pretending this isn’t happening,” you reply, “We need to talk about what’s going on between us.”

His jaw tightens further, and his teeth grind with barely contained frustration. He finally looks at you, his eyes hard and defensive. “There’s nothing to say,” he says bitterly. “I told you how I feel. I thought that was enough.”

“It’s not enough!” you shoot back, your own frustration bubbling to the surface. “You think you can just push me away, pretend like this bond doesn’t exist, and that’s supposed to solve everything? It doesn’t work like that, Logan.”

He flinches slightly at your words, but his keeps his expression hard. “Well what do you want me to say?” he demands, his voice rising. “That I’m sorry? That I didn’t mean to hurt you? Because I am, and I didn’t. But that doesn’t change the fact that I can’t be what you want me to be.”

His words hurt. 

“I know you told me how you feel,” you start, “but you’ve never let me tell you how I feel. You’ve never given me the chance to say that it’s been tearing me apart.”

A flash of guilt. “I didn’t think… I didn’t think you needed to say it. I already knew.”

“That isn’t fair,” you argue.

“You don’t understand,” he counters, “I lost Jean. I loved her, and when she died, it broke something in me. And now… now I’m supposed to just… move on? With you? It’s not that simple.”

“I never asked you to love me, Logan,” you say, your voice trembling with the intensity of your emotions. “I never pushed for anything more than friendship—it’s not like you gave me the chance! You’ve been shutting me out, ignoring me, making me feel like I’m nothing more than a burden, like I don’t even matter!”

You can see that the pain in your voice hitting him hard, but he doesn’t apologize. Instead, he looks away, his expression conflicted. “I’m trying to protect you,” he mutters, the words sounding hollow even to him

“Protect me?” you echo incredulously. “All you’re doing is make me feel like shit. Like I’m worthless. I can’t even be your friend, to help you through this.”

You pause. “You expect us all to know how you’re feeling, but you can’t even communicate it.”

Logan winces, his eyes flicking up to meet yours, filled with a torment you’ve never seen before. He opens his mouth to say something, but the words seem to get caught in his throat. Finally, after what feels like an eternity, he breaks the silence, his voice barely above a whisper.

“I can’t be what you want me to be,” he admits, his tone filled with a deep, aching sadness. “I don’t know how to let you in. Without her, I feel like… I can’t let anyone in.”

Your eyes soften a fraction his confession, but there’s also a deep frustration that burns inside you, a frustration born of months of pain and rejection. 

“You haven’t even tried,” you say softly with a quiet resignation, “You haven’t even tried to let me in, to see what we could have been, even if it was just as friends.”

What follows is a long, nagging silence. You let it linger, giving Logan the chance he needs to think of something to say. But there’s no answer, no promise that things will change, and then you realize, with a sinking feeling, that he’s not going to take that step, too broken to try.

That’s when it really hits you. 

Whatever you were fighting for, was a losing battle from the start. 

You give up.

This time, it is you who turns your back on him. 

“Goodbye, Logan. Take care of yourself.”

You don’t wait for a response. You don’t glance back. You walk out of the room, the door closing softly behind you, and with it, the last remnants of hope you had for something more.

— 

You decide to go on the mission.

It’s nothing complicated. Your task is to survey different regions of Europe, ensuring that there are no burgeoning anti-mutant operations threatening the safety of anyone. The primary goal is gathering information, and quiet observation. No violence, Charles told you in the debrief. 

The lack of immediate danger doesn’t make leaving any easier, though. This is as much about finding yourself as it is about fulfilling your duty.

Rogue and Kitty are with you during your final preparations, helping you pack the essentials and offering support in their own ways. They don’t ask many questions, probably sensing that this decision was not just made on a whim. And for that, you’re grateful.

“I still think you’re crazy for going solo,” Rogue says with a half-smile as she zips up your bag. “But if anyone can handle it, it’s you.”

You manage a small smile in return. “Thanks, Rogue. I just need some time…”

Kitty, who’s been quietly folding clothes and tucking them into your bag, looks up, seriousness clouding her gaze.  “We get it. Just promise you’ll keep in touch, okay? And don’t hesitate to call if you need backup.”

“I promise,” you assure.

She hesitates for a moment before reaching into her pocket and pulling out a small device—the X-Men communicator gadget. She holds it out to you, and you reach your hand out. 

“Here,” she says softly, pressing the device into your hand. “This is so you can update us on your whereabouts, your status, or any important mission details. Even if you don’t need anything, just… let us know you’re okay, alright?”

You look down at the communicator in your hand, and close your fingers around it, nodding as you meet Kitty’s gaze. 

“Alright, I’ll check in regularly. I won’t leave you guys in the dark.”

Rogue finishes the last bit of organization. “You’ve got this,” she says, “And we’ve got your back, even from a distance.” You nod, appreciating their support more than you can express. 

It almost feels like a walk of shame—leaving the mansion. Everyone knows why too, and that makes it a thousand times worse. But you won’t let it get to you. With one last look, you get in your car and begin on the windy path to the airport. 

—

When you arrive in Europe, the first thing that strikes you is the sheer beauty of the landscape. Each city, each town, has its own unique charm, its own story to tell. The bustling uphill streets of Porto, the serene canals of Venice, the ancient ruins of Athens—they all offer a distraction from the turmoil inside you.

The only good part about this whole mess is that you can see colour, and truly appreciate the sights before you.

You move from one place to the next, blending in with the crowds, quietly observing, gathering information, and sending brief updates to the team through the communicator Kitty gave you. Every message is short, to the point, just enough to let them know you’re safe and on track. You don’t share much beyond the essentials, not wanting to burden them with your personal struggles.

Then, in a small café in Rome, you meet a man named Marco. He’s a traveler like you, exploring Europe with a curiosity that matches your own. He’s warm, easygoing, and before long, the two of you strike up a conversation over coffee.

He is charming in a way that makes you feel at ease, his laughter infectious as he shares stories of his travels. You don’t tell him much about yourself, keeping the details of your mission and your mutant abilities hidden. To him, you’re just another traveler, searching for something—though he doesn’t pry into what that something is.

As the days pass, you and Marco continue to cross paths, and it’s nice to have someone to talk to, someone who doesn’t know about your past, about the things you’re running from. With him, you can be anyone, and for the first time in a long while, you start to feel a little lighter. You find yourself laughing more, the weight on your chest lifting a little each day. You don’t talk about the mission, and you certainly don’t talk about Logan.

One evening, as you’re both sitting on the steps of the Spanish Steps in Rome, watching the sunset, he turns to you with a grin. “So, where are you off to next?”

You hesitate, not wanting to reveal too much, but then you smile. “I’m heading to Florence. There are some places I need to check out.”

His eyes light up. “Florence? I’ve been meaning to re-visit. Mind if I tag along?”

A part of you wants to say no, to keep the distance you’ve carefully maintained, but another part—the part that’s been lonely for so long—nods in agreement. “Sure, why not?”

—

Back at the mansion, things haven’t been as positive. The once lively atmosphere has dimmed, replaced by an uneasy tension that lingers in the halls. The X-Men carry on with their duties, but there’s a noticeable shift—a missing piece that everyone feels but no one talks about. Logan, in particular, has become even more withdrawn, if that’s possible. The man who was once brooding and distant now seems even more so, his mood volatile and unpredictable.

His behavior has become a source of concern for the team. He’s always been rough around the edges, but now, it’s like the slightest thing can set him off. He snaps at everyone, his temper flaring at the smallest provocation. On missions, he’s reckless, throwing himself into danger without a second thought, as if he’s trying to outrun something—or someone. 

In many evenings, Logan finds himself in the mansion’s gym, trying to work off the restless energy that’s been plaguing him for months. The room is always empty, save for him, the steady rhythm of his fists pounding against the punching bag being the only sound. Sweat drips down his face, his muscles straining as he channels all his frustration and anger into each punch. Yet, no matter how hard he hits, he can’t seem to shake the thoughts of you that have been haunting him.

This night, door to the gym creaks open, and Logan doesn’t need to look up to know who it is. He can sense the other man’s presence, feel the weight of his gaze as he steps inside. He doesn’t slow his punches, doesn’t acknowledge Scott’s presence, but he knows why he’s here. They’ve had this conversation before—or something like it—but nothing’s changed. Nothing’s gotten better.

Scott watches him for a moment, his expression unreadable. He’s been watching Logan spiral for weeks now, but he’s kept his distance, knowing that he’d only be pushed away. But this can’t go on—Logan can’t keep doing this, can’t keep tearing himself apart over something he refuses to confront.

“She wouldn’t want this,” he finally says, voice cutting through the steady thud of Logan’s fists against the bag.

Logan’s movements falter for just a second before he resumes, his jaw tightening. “Who?” he growls, not bothering to turn around. “Her or Jean?”

Scott doesn’t flinch at the harshness in the other man’s tone. He steps closer, his eyes steady on their target as he answers, “Both.”

Finally, Logan stops. His fists still as he leans against the bag, his breath coming in ragged gasps. His shoulders are tense, the weight of Scott’s words pressing down on him like a physical burden. He doesn’t want to hear this, doesn’t want to be reminded of what he’s lost—of who he’s lost. 

Taking a step closer, Scott’s voice is firm. “Look, I’m not a spiritual person. But I also don’t think the universe messed up with this.”

Clenching, his fists, Logan knows what the other man is getting at, but he doesn’t want to acknowledge it. Doesn’t want to think about what could have been, what he’s been too scared to even consider.

“I know you know how I felt about Jean,” Scott says quietly, knowing he’s breaching a sensitive subject. “Losing her… it killed me too. And if I had been given a chance—a real chance to be with her, to make things right—I would have taken it. No hesitation.”

Logan’s breath hitches at that. The truth is, he’s been running—running from you, from the bond you share, from the possibility of something real. 

“I’m not saying you should chase after her,” he continues. “But I am saying that you need to stop running from her. The universe doesn’t just throw things like this at us for no reason. And you know that.”

The weight of Scott’s words settle over Logan like a shroud. He knows the other man is right—deep down, he’s always known. But that doesn’t make it any easier. The fear, the guilt, the pain of losing Jean—it’s all still there, gnawing at him, holding him back. 

There’s something else too, something he’s been trying to ignore but can’t any longer: the way he feels about you, the way he’s always felt, even if he couldn’t admit it to himself. One of the first thought’s that ran through his head when his world re-erupted into colour was that, had this happened before Jean, maybe it could have worked. Maybe he could have been what you wanted, felt something real.

Scott takes a step back, giving Logan the space he needs. “Just think about it,” he says softly. “Think about what you really want. And don’t wait until it’s too late to figure it out.”

Logan doesn’t respond, but Scott doesn’t need him to. He’s said what he needed to say, and now it’s up to him to decide what comes next. With a final look, Scott turns and leaves the gym, the door closing softly behind him.

The clawed mutant stands there for a long time, his fists still clenched, his mind racing. He knows he can’t keep doing this—can’t keep tearing himself apart over something he can’t change, something he’s too afraid to confront.

But change is terrifying, especially when it means facing the truth. The truth that maybe, just maybe, the bond he shares with you is something worth fighting for. Something that Jean wouldn’t want him to throw away.

With a deep, shuddering breath, Logan finally lets his fists unclench, the tension in his body slowly ebbing away. He doesn’t have all the answers—hell, he barely knows where to start—but he knows one thing for sure: he's can’t run away anymore. Not from this, not from you.

—

You’ve now spent days in Florence, wandering through the Uffizi Gallery, marveling at the works of the Renaissance masters, and evenings enjoying the quiet serenity of the Arno River. With you, Marco. You’ve grown to trust him. He’s never made you uncomfortable, never had any intentions to take advantage of you, and knows all the best restaurants. 

But there’s always been a small, nagging doubt that you’ve pushed aside—a feeling that something isn’t quite right. You’ve ignored it, convincing yourself that you’re just being paranoid after everything you’ve been through. After all, he has been nothing but kind, always knowing the right thing to say, always showing up just when you need someone.

It isn’t until the two of you are exploring a quieter part of Florence, that the doubt flares into something more. You’re walking through an old, narrow alleyway, the kind that tourists rarely venture into, when Marco suggests you take a shortcut through a small, unmarked door in the side of a building.

“I found this place the last time I was here,” Marco says, his smile as easy as ever. “It’s a hidden gem, leads right to a beautiful courtyard. You’ll love it.”

You hesitate, something in his tone—or maybe it’s the way his eyes gleam just a little too brightly—sets off alarm bells in your mind. You’ve come to trust him though, haven’t you? You’ve traveled together for weeks, shared countless stories and laughs. Surely, he wouldn’t lead you into danger.

Still, as you step through the door, the darkened space beyond immediately feels wrong. The air is colder, damp, and the walls are lined with strange, unidentifiable equipment. You glance back at Marco, and that’s when you see it—the change in his expression. The warmth is gone, replaced by something cold and calculating.

Before you can react, you feel a sharp prick in your arm. Your vision blurs, and your body goes numb almost instantly. You stumble back, trying to push away, but your legs give out, and you collapse to the floor.

Marco looms over you, the smile gone from his face, replaced by a look of triumph. “Did you really think I didn’t know?” he sneers, his voice dripping with disdain. “You’re a mutant, and you thought you could hide it from me?”

The world around you spins as the drug takes full effect, but you force your mind to stay focused. “What… why?” you manage to whisper, the betrayal cutting deep.

“Why?” He laughs, the sound harsh and devoid of any warmth. “Because mutants like you are worth a fortune. My clients pay top dollar for… research subjects. And you, my dear, are about to make me very, very rich.”

You try to move, to fight back, but your body refuses to respond. Panic rises in your chest as he kneels beside you, pulling out a small device that looks like a portable scanner. He runs it over you, and it emits a low hum as it registers your vital signs, confirming what he already knows. You’re weak. 

“You won’t get away with this,” you say.

“Oh, but I already have,” he replies with cruel satisfaction. “No one knows where you are. And even if they did, it’ll be too late by the time they find you.”

With the last bit of strength you can muster, you reach into your pocket, fingers trembling as you fumble with the X-Men communicator that Kitty gave you. His attention is momentarily distracted as he prepares a syringe filled with a clear liquid, and you seize the opportunity. You manage to pull out the communicator, your fingers barely able to grip it. Then, with a deep breath, you press the SOS button, the screen flashing to life.

You type in the message as quickly as you can, your vision blurring even more as the drug takes hold. 

Location: Florence. 

Message: Help.

Just as you hit send, Marco notices what you’re doing. His eyes widen in anger, and he grabs your wrist, yanking the communicator out of your hand. “You little—!” he snarls, but it’s too late. The message has already been sent.

His face contorts in rage as he slams the gadget against the ground, smashing it to pieces. He glares down at you, his hand tightening painfully around your wrist. “You think you’re so clever, don’t you? But it doesn’t matter. They’ll never get here in time.”

Your strength is nearly gone, the drug pulling you into unconsciousness, but you manage one last defiant look. “You won’t win,” you whisper with the last of your energy.

Marco releases your wrist with a sneer, standing up and looking down at you with contempt again. “We’ll see about that,” he mutters before turning away, leaving you on the cold, hard floor as darkness overtakes you. 

You can only hope they—that Logan—will reach you in time.

—

The signal comes through during a meeting. A sudden, loud beep cuts through the room,  and everyone freezes, their attention immediately drawn to the source of the sound. To Kitty’s pocket. It’s the X-Men communicator, the one linked to your device. 

Logan’s head snaps up, his eyes narrowing as he recognizes the tone. He’s on his feet before anyone else can react, his heart pounding in his chest. “What the hell was that?” he demands, his voice tense with urgency.

Kitty quickly pulls it out of her pocket, her eyes widening as she reads the message that’s flashed across the screen. Her face pales, and she looks up at the others, her voice trembling as she speaks. “It’s from her… Florence… Help.”

There’s a brief pause, maybe a second long in length, and then the room erupts into a flurry of movement. 

Chairs scrape against the floor as the team rises to their feet, already preparing for action. But Logan is the first to react, his face a mask of fury and determination. “I’m going,” he growls, already heading for the door.

“Logan, wait!” Scott steps forward, blocking Logan’s path with a firm hand on his chest. 

“Get out of my way, Summers,” He snarls, his voice filled with barely controlled rage. “I’m not waiting around while she’s in danger.”

“We can’t just rush in without a plan,” Scott insists, trying to keep his own emotions in check. “We need to know what we’re dealing with.”

Logan shoves the other mutant’s hand away, his eyes blazing with anger. “She sent an SOS, Scott! She needs help, and we’re wasting time standing here talking about it!”

The rest of the team watches the confrontation with anxious eyes, knowing that things could easily escalate. Logan’s been on edge for weeks, and the urgency of the situation—of you— has pushed him to the brink. 

“Logan,” Ororo interjects, “We understand how you feel, but we need to think this through. If this is a trap—”

“I don’t give a damn if it’s a trap!” He snaps, his voice rising. “She’s part of our team! We can’t just leave her there!”

“That’s not what we’re saying,” Scott tries to reason, but Logan isn’t having it.

“Then what the hell are you sayin’?” He demands, his frustration boiling over. “Why are we wasting time when we should be getting her out of there?”

There’s a brief, uncomfortable silence, and then it’s Rogue who steps forward, conflicted. “Logan… what if… what if she doesn’t want to see you?”

He freezes, the words hitting him harder than any physical blow could. He stares at Rogue, disbelief and anger warring in his eyes. “What the fuck are you talking about?” he growls.

Rogue swallows, her eyes filled with worry. “She left because she needed time, Logan. Because things between you two… they weren’t good. Maybe she—maybe she doesn’t want you to be the one to save her.”

Clenching his hands into fists, his body is taut with tension. “Fuck that!” he roars with a fierce, protective rage. “She’s part of our team! She sent that message to us, to the X-Men, because she needs our help. I don’t care what’s happened between us, I’m not leavin’ her there!”

The room falls silent, the weight of Logan’s words settling over everyone. They know Logan is right—she’s part of the team, and they can’t leave her behind. But they also know that the situation is more complicated than that.

Scott takes a deep breath, his gaze steady as he looks at Logan. “We’re not saying we shouldn’t go after her, Logan. We’re saying that you need to be prepared for whatever we might find when we get there. She might be in a bad place, and she might not be ready to face you.”

“I don’t care,” he says after a brief pause, his voice quieter now, but no less determined. “I’m going to get her out of there. Whether she wants to see me or not, I’m not lettin’ her go through this alone.”

Scott studies Logan for a long moment, then finally nods. “Alright. But we do this together, as a team.”

Logan nods, his jaw set in a grim line. “Fine. Let’s go.”

—

Your eyes snap open, the dim light of the room piercing your vision. You’re in a large, abandoned warehouse. Your head feels heavy, like it’s filled with cotton, and there’s a dull, throbbing pain at the base of your skull. As you try to move, you realize with a jolt of fear that you’re restrained, your arms and legs strapped tightly to a chair. Panic flares in your chest, and you struggle against the bonds, but they don’t budge.

And then you see him—Marco, standing a few feet away, watching you with a smirk that sends a chill down your spine. His eyes gleam with satisfaction, and you realize with horror that you’ve been caught, trapped in whatever twisted game he’s been playing.

“Ah, you’re awake,” he says, voice dripping with mock concern. “I was starting to wonder if I’d given you too much of the sedative. But it seems you’re tougher than I thought.”

You try to respond, but a gag in your mouth muffles your words, turning them into incoherent sounds. You glare at him your eyes burning with fury.

He only chuckles, clearly amused by your resistance. “Oh, don’t bother trying to speak. We wouldn’t want you calling for help, now would we? Though, I must say, I’m impressed you managed to send that little SOS before I caught on. Clever, but ultimately futile.”

He steps closer, his eyes narrowing as he looks you over, his expression turning cold. “You know, I’ve dealt with a lot of mutants in my time, but there’s something special about you. Something… unique.” He reaches out and grabs your chin, forcing you to meet his gaze. “Too bad your powers won’t do you any good here. The drug I gave you should keep you nice and powerless for the foreseeable future.”

Straining against the bonds, you continue to try to break free, but he drug in your system dulls your abilities, leaving you feeling weak and vulnerable. All you can do is stare at him with hatred as he continues to taunt you.

“Such fire in your eyes,” Marco murmurs, almost to himself. “It’s a shame you’ll never see the light of day again. But don’t worry—I’ll make sure your abilities are put to good use.”

He lets go of your chin, his hand trailing down to your shoulder in a way that makes your skin crawl. “Now, let’s see what we can do to make you a little more… compliant.”

Just as he reaches into his coat pocket, presumably for another syringe, a sudden, loud crash echoes through the warehouse. The sound of splintering wood and shattering glass fills the air, followed by the unmistakable hum of energy blasts and the heavy thud of boots on the concrete floor.

The X-Men have arrived.

Marco’s eyes widen in surprise and then narrow in anger. He spins around, barking orders at the security guards scattered throughout the warehouse. “Stop them! Don’t let them get near her!”

The guards rush forward, weapons drawn, but they’re no match for your friends. The familiar sounds of battle flood your ears—Rogue’s powerful punches, Scott’s optic blasts, and Storm’s lightning crackling through the air. You struggle against your restraints again, desperate to free yourself, but it’s no use. 

Then, you catch a glimpse of Logan. He’s fighting his way toward you, his claws out, slicing through anyone who gets in his way. For a brief, heart-stopping moment, your eyes meet his, and you can see the raw determination in his gaze. He’s coming for you.

But just as he takes a step forward, something changes. He hesitates. You can’t hear what he’s thinking, but you can see the conflict on his face—the way he seems to second-guess himself, the way his steps falter. Your heart sinks as you realize he’s unsure, almost as if he's torn between wanting to save you and fearing that you don’t want him to.

In that split second of hesitation, Rogue swoops in, landing beside you with a determined look on her face. She doesn’t waste any time, using her strength to tear through the restraints that bind you. “We’ve got you, sugah,” she says, her voice steady and reassuring as she pulls the gag from your mouth. “You’re safe now.”

You nod, your throat too dry and your body too weak to speak. Your muscles scream in protest as you try to stand, but she quickly wraps an arm around you, helping you to your feet. You’re shaky, your body still reeling from the effects of the drug, but you’re free. Out of the corner of your eye, you see Logan still standing there, his eyes locked on you, his expression unreadable. He wanted to save you. He wanted to be the one to pull you out of that nightmare, but something held him back.

Rogue helps you toward the exit as the rest of the team continues to subdue the guards and Marco. You lean heavily on her, your legs barely able to support your weight, but you force yourself to keep moving. 

And when everyone else has back in the jet, hugging you and comforting you, you look over to Logan, who sits far away, on the opposite side, refusing to meet your gaze. 

—

Returning to the mansion feels like stepping back into a familiar, comforting embrace. You missed the soft, warm bed in your room, the quiet serenity of the gardens, and the comforting presence of your friends. It's been a few days since the whole ordeal in Florence, and the drug has finally worked its way out of your system. Your strength has returned, and physically, you feel like yourself again. The mansion, too, seems unchanged—still the safe haven you’ve always known.

But as the days pass, you begin to notice that while many things have returned to normal, some things have not. You’ve seen most of your friends, their faces lighting up when they see you, their hugs tight and full of relief. There have been quiet conversations and laughter, shared meals in the kitchen, and moments that remind you why this place is home.

Except, there’s one person you haven’t seen. Logan.

His absence is like a shadow that follows you wherever you go. You’ve felt his presence in the mansion—heard his voice in the halls, the sound of his footsteps on the floorboards—but he’s kept his distance. He hasn’t sought you out, hasn’t tried to talk to you, and that stings more than you want to admit.

You’ve tried to stay strong, to remind yourself of the resilience you found during your time away. You’ve reminded yourself over and over that you don’t need anyone else to validate your worth, that you can stand on your own. Yet the longer Logan avoids you, the harder it is to hold on to that strength. The old wounds, the ones you thought had begun to heal, start to ache again, and you can’t help but wonder if anything has really changed at all.

More often than not, you find yourself retreating to the front lawn. The sun is warm on your skin as you lie down in the grass, a book in hand. The soft rustling of leaves in the breeze and the distant hum of life inside the mansion create a peaceful background, and for a moment, you manage to lose yourself in the pages of your book.

Still, even here, in the sanctuary of the garden, the thoughts you’ve been trying to push aside keep creeping back in. The memory of Florence, of Logan’s hesitation, lingers like a bitter aftertaste. You replay the moment over and over in your mind, trying to make sense of it, trying to understand why he stopped, why he didn’t come for you.

You’re so lost in your thoughts that you don’t notice the shadow that falls across your page until a deep, familiar voice breaks the silence.

“I’m glad you’re alright.”

The voice startles you, and you jerk slightly, looking up to see Logan standing above you. His expression is guarded, as if he’s not sure how you’ll react to his presence. There’s a tautness to his posture, a stiffness that you recognize all too well. 

For a moment, you just stare at him, caught off guard by the suddenness of his appearance. He’s as rugged and intimidating as ever, but there’s something different in his eyes—something a tad bit softer. You close your book, sitting up slowly as you meet his gaze. The question that’s been gnawing at you since Florence rises to the surface, and you know you can’t keep it inside any longer.

“What happened?” you ask, your voice steady but filled with quiet intensity. “In Florence?”

His jaw tightens, and he looks away for a moment, his gaze shifting to the trees in the distance. He doesn’t answer immediately, and the silence stretches out between you, thick with unspoken words. 

You just watch him, waiting for an explanation, but there’s a part of you that’s already bracing for disappointment. You’ve been here before, waiting for Logan to decide what happens next, to take the lead. And you’re tired of it. You’re tired of being the one left in the dark, of being the one who has to wait for him to be ready.

Finally, he lets out a heavy sigh, his shoulders slumping slightly as if the weight of the world is pressing down on him. “I… I hesitated,” he admits huskily, almost in a growl. “I wanted to save you. Hell, I was going to. But then… I didn’t know if you wanted me to.”

His confession hangs in the air, and you feel a mix of emotions—surprise, confusion, and sadness. You hadn’t expected this, hadn’t realized that his hesitation was rooted in something so painfully human.

“Why wouldn’t I want you to?” you ask softly, searching his face for answers.

Logan finally looks at you, really looks at you, and the raw emotion in his eyes takes your breath away. “Because of everything that’s happened between us. Because I pushed you away. I hurt you, and I thought… maybe you’d be better off if it wasn’t me.”

You shake your head, trying to make sense of his reasoning. “Logan, this can’t keep being about what you think is best,” you begin. “And it’s not about who saves who. It’s about being there when it counts. You were there. You came for me.”

He doesn’t have a response to that, at least not right away. He looks down at the ground, his fists unclenching, his shoulders slumping even further. It’s like he’s carrying the weight of everything he’s done, everything he’s failed to do, and it’s crushing him. 

“I’m sorry,” he finally manages to get out. “For everything.”

You stare at him, your heart pounding in your chest.

“I know I’ve messed up,” he continues. “I know I haven’t been there for you like I should’ve. But I’m here now. And if you’ll let me… I want to try to make things right.”

You know you should be happy—this is everything you’ve wanted to hear from him for so long. But it’s also too much, too late. The doubt, the pain, it can’t just disappear with a snap of your fingers.

“I don’t know if I’m ready for that,” you admit. 

There’s pain on his face. “I get it,” he says, his voice rough but steady. “I know I’ve got a lot to make up for. And I know it’s not going to happen overnight. But I’m willing to do whatever it takes, if it means I can earn your trust back.”

“I need time. I need time to figure out where I stand, and where you stand with me.”

He nods slowly, his gaze dropping to the ground again. “Take all the time you need,” he says quietly. “I’m not going anywhere.”

“I appreciate that,” With a small nod, you stand up, brushing the grass off your clothes. “I need time,” you repeat, more for your own benefit than his.

“And you’ve got it,” Logan replies. “As much as you need.”

—

Days turn into weeks, and weeks into months. You focus on yourself, on healing the wounds that were reopened during your conversation with Logan. It feels strange, being the one who needs space, but you know it’s necessary. You find things to take your mind off him: you train more, read more, spend more time with Rogue, Kitty, or Remy. It’s nice.

But Logan… Logan doesn’t give up. He knows you need time, and he respects that. He doesn’t push, doesn’t pressure you to make a decision, but he makes it clear through his actions that he hasn’t forgotten about you, and more importantly, that he isn’t going anywhere.

It starts with the small things—things so subtle that you almost don’t notice at first. You probably wouldn’t have suspected anything if you hadn’t known the kind of person he is. He’s nothing if not persistent. He knows you better than you realize—the rift he created after Jean’s death muddling with your memory—and he uses that knowledge to quietly, almost imperceptibly, work his way back into your life.

In the mornings, you wake up to find your favorite snacks waiting for you in the kitchen, carefully placed where you’d be sure to see them. He never mentions it, never takes credit, but you know it’s him. It’s in the way he glances at you from the corner of his eye as you take a bite, a small, almost imperceptible smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. He never makes a big deal out of it—just a quiet, unspoken gesture that says, I’m thinking of you.

Then there are the late-night training sessions. You go down to the Danger Room or the gym, hoping to clear your mind with a bit of solitary exercise, only to find Logan already there. At first, you’re tempted to leave, to find somewhere else to work out, but something in his demeanor stops you. He doesn’t approach you, doesn’t speak unless you initiate it. Instead, he just… exists beside you, his presence steady and reassuring, like a rock in the storm.

It’s in these moments that you begin to see a different side of Logan—one that’s patient, understanding, and perhaps a little unsure of himself. He follows your lead, mirroring your exercises or silently spotting you during weightlifting, always attentive to your needs without ever making you feel pressured or overwhelmed. He’s just there, offering his support in the quietest, most understated way possible.

And then there are the little surprises in your room—small, thoughtful gestures that you can’t help but notice. A favorite book you’d mentioned in passing suddenly appears on your nightstand, its pages pristine and waiting for you to dive into. The time-worn leather straps on your gear are suddenly replaced with new ones that fit perfectly, the stitching unmistakably done by Logan’s hand. Even your plants, the ones you’d worried would wither away while you were on a mission, seem to thrive in your absence, the soil freshly watered and the leaves turned toward the sun.

He never asks for thanks, never draws attention to what he’s doing. It’s all done quietly, behind the scenes, as if he’s afraid that if you notice too much, you might push him away. But you do notice. How could you not?

At first, you try to ignore it, telling yourself that these gestures don’t change anything, that they’re just a way for Logan to assuage his guilt. You tell yourself that he’s just doing this because he feels bad, because he wants to make up for the past, not because he actually cares. You’ve built walls around your heart for a reason, and you’re not ready to let them down just because he’s being nice.

But over time, those small gestures begin to chip away at those walls, brick by brick. You start to realize that Logan isn’t just going through the motions—he’s really paying attention, noticing the little things that make you who you are. It isn’t just about the snacks or the books or the plants—it’s about the way he remembers the details of your life, the things that matter to you, the things that make you feel seen and understood.

After a particularly long and stressful day, you return to your room exhausted, and all you want is to collapse into bed and forget the world for a while. But when you walk in, you find a small bouquet of wildflowers sitting on your nightstand, the beautiful colors a stark contrast to the dark thoughts that have been swirling in your mind all day. There’s no note, no explanation—there never is—but you know who left them.

You just stand there, staring at the flowers, your heart squeezing in your chest. It’s such a simple gesture, and yet it means so much. You’d forgotten that Logan knew how much you love wildflowers—you’d mentioned it once, years ago. The way they’re resilient, thriving even in the harshest conditions, blooming where others wouldn’t. It’s as if he’s telling you that he sees that strength in you, that he admires it.

And it’s then, in the quiet of your room, surrounded by the small, thoughtful gestures that Logan has left behind, that you realize something. This isn’t just about making up for the past. Logan is showing you, in the only way he knows how, that he wants this. Wants you.

He's finally picked up the pieces of him that fell apart after Jean’s death, and he is willing to pick up the pieces of you that fell apart after his rejection.

So, one evening, months after that fateful conversation on the lawn, you find yourself standing in the common room, staring at the fireplace, lost in thought. The mansion is quiet, the rest of the team either out on a mission or asleep. It’s just you and the flickering flames, the soft crackling of the fire the only sound in the room.

But when you hear footsteps behind you, heavy and deliberate, you know instantly who it is. Without turning, you can sense his presence, the way he moves with that quiet confidence, the way the air seems to shift when he is near. Logan has always had a way of grounding you, even when you don’t want him to.

He walks up beside you, stopping just short of touching you, his warmth radiating in the small space between your bodies. He doesn’t say anything at first, doesn’t ask why you’re here or try to force a conversation. He just stands there, his hands shoved into his pockets, waiting patiently, giving you the time you need. It’s something you’ve come to appreciate about him in recent months—his newfound ability to just be, without pushing or demanding more than you’re ready to give.

"I’ve been thinking," you say finally, your voice soft, as you continue to gaze into the flames.

"Yeah?" Logan asks, his tone careful, as if he’s afraid of saying the wrong thing.

You turn to face him, your heart pounding in your chest. "You’ve been… different. Doing all these little things… I see them, you know."

Logan’s eyes meet yours, and for the first time in a long time, you see hope there. "I just wanted you to know that I care. That I’m sorry," he says, with so much emotion. “You were never a burden to me.”

You swallow hard. "It’s hard for me, Logan," you admit, "I’ve been hurt before, and I’m scared. Scared that if I let myself love you again, you’ll just… break me."

He steps closer, his hand reaching out to gently cup your cheek. "I’d never hurt you again," he says, "I’d rather cut off my own damn hand than hurt you. The past is the past, and you are my future."

That’s enough to make your walls crumble completely. You know, deep down, that Logan is telling the truth. That he’s willing to do whatever it takes to earn your trust again.

And in that moment, you realize that maybe, just maybe, you’re ready to let him.

You don’t say anything. Instead, you let your actions speak for you. You close the distance between you, standing on your toes as you press your lips to his in a gentle, tentative kiss. Logan freezes for a split second, as if he can’t believe this is really happening, but then he kisses you back, his arms wrapping around you as he pulls you close, holding you as if he never wants to let go.

The kiss is slow, tender, full of everything that has been building between you for so long. It isn’t just a kiss—it’s a promise, a commitment to try again, to rebuild what has been broken. When you finally pull back, your breath mingling with his, you rest your head on his shoulder. "I’m still scared," you whisper.

"I know," Logan replies, his arms tightening around you. "But I’m here, and I’m not going anywhere. We’ll take this slow, darlin’. Whatever you need."

You nod. "Okay."

Logan smiles then, a real, genuine smile that makes your heart flutter in a way it hasn’t in years. It’s a smile full of relief, of gratitude, of love—a smile that tells you that he understands just how much this moment means, just how much you’re giving him by letting him back into your heart.

—

The time that follows is a slow, steady journey of rebuilding trust. Logan is true to his word—he is patient, understanding, and surprisingly tender in ways you hadn’t expected. The small gestures continue—coffee waiting for you in the morning, a gentle hand on your back during missions, quiet moments of companionship where no words are needed.

You can feel the doubts you’ve been holding onto slowly begin to fade. Each time Logan shows up for you, each time he puts your needs above his own, it chips away at the fear that has kept you guarded for so long. It’s in the way he listens when you talk, truly listens, as if every word you say matters. It’s in the way he looks at you—not with the same fury he once had, but with a steady, enduring affection that speaks of something deeper.

With Jean, he loved her because she was his soulmate, she was who the universe destined him to be with. He loved her because that’s what he thought he had to do.

With you, he has a choice. He doesn’t need to acknowledge the bond, but he chooses to. He chooses to everyday and he’ll never stop. He loves you because he wants to, not because he has to.

One evening, you find yourself sitting on the mansion’s porch watching the sunset. Logan joins you without a word, sitting close enough that your shoulders brush. 

“You’ve been quiet today,” he says softly, breaking the comfortable silence.

“I’ve just been thinking,” you reply, leaning your head on his shoulder. It’s a simple gesture, but one that speaks volumes about how far you’ve come in trusting him again.

“’Bout what?” he asks, his voice gentle.

“About us,” you say, your voice steady. “About how things have changed. How… how good they’ve been.”

Logan’s hand finds yours, his fingers lacing through yours in a way that feels so natural, so right. “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” you echo, squeezing his hand. “I’m not scared anymore, Logan. Not like I was.”

He turns to face you, his eyes searching yours. “You sure?”

You nod, smiling softly. “I’m sure. You’ve shown me that this bond means something to you, that you’re not going to hurt me. And… I want this. I want us.”

Logan’s face lights up with so much love, that it takes your breath away. He leans in, pressing a tender kiss to your forehead. “I’m glad, darlin’. Because I want us too. More than anything.”

—

It isn’t long before the rest of the X-Men begin to notice the change in Logan as well. At first, it’s subtle—small things like the way he looks at you during briefings, or the way he seems to be more patient, more relaxed when you’re around. But over time, it becomes impossible to ignore.

During a training session in the Danger Room, you’re paired with Logan for a simulated mission. The others watch as Logan moves with you in perfect sync, his focus not just on the mission but on you—making sure you’re safe, supporting you when needed, and trusting you completely. It’s a far cry from the Logan they had seen when he was in mourning, where his moves were rash and careless.

After the session, as you and Logan leave the Danger Room, you catch sight of Ororo and Scott exchanging a look, the kind of look that speaks volumes, full of surprise and a touch of amusement.

“What?” you ask, raising an eyebrow as you approach them.

Ororo smiles warmly, a knowing glint in her eyes. “Nothing, just… noticing how good you two are together.”

Scott nods in agreement, his expression softening as he glances at Logan. “Yeah, it’s… different, finally seeing him like this. In a good way.”

Logan shrugs, but there’s no hiding the small smile that tugs at the corners of his mouth. “What’re you guys talking about?”

“Just that it’s nice to see you happy, Logan,” Ororo says gently. “Really happy.”

Logan looks at you then, his smile growing as he meets your gaze. “Yeah. It is.”

More members of the team begin to notice the change in Logan as time goes on. Rogue, who has always had a soft spot for him, comments on how he seems more at ease, less burdened by the weight of his past. Hank, ever the observer, points out how Logan’s demeanor has shifted—less brooding, more open. Even Charles, who has seen Logan through his darkest times, pulls you aside one day to express his approval.

“I must say,” Charles says, his tone warm and approving, “I haven’t seen Logan like this in a very long time. Whatever you two have managed to sort out, it’s working.”

And it is. Slowly but surely, the wounds that had once held you back have healed. The doubts that had kept you from fully embracing your relationship with Logan have faded, replaced by a deep, abiding love. It isn’t just the little gestures anymore—it’s the way Logan makes you feel seen, heard, and cherished in a way that no one else ever has.

—

“I never thought we’d get here,” you admit one night whilst looking up at the stars.

Logan looks at you, his expression tender. “Neither did I,” he says, his voice full of sincerity. “But I’m damn glad we did.”

You smile, leaning into him as he wraps his arm around your shoulders. “I love you, Logan. And I trust you. Completely.”

His grip tightens slightly, as if to hold onto the moment, to hold onto you. “I love you too, darlin’. I never thought I’d feel this way about someone.”

You know what he’s trying to say. So without thinking, you reach up and cup his face, drawing him closer until your lips are just a breath away from his. “Show me,” you whisper, your voice low and filled with desire.

He doesn’t need any more encouragement. He closes the small gap between you, capturing your lips in a kiss that is soft at first, almost tentative, as if he’s savoring the feel of you. 

You can feel the heat between you building, the kiss growing more fervent as your hands roam over his chest, feeling the hard planes of muscle beneath his shirt, then into his hair. Brown. 

His hands slide up your back, one hand tangling in your hair as he angles your head, deepening the kiss further until you’re both breathless.

When you finally pull back, your foreheads resting against each other’s, you’re both panting, your hearts racing in sync. His eyes are dark with desire, his breath coming in ragged gasps as he holds you close.

“You’re everything to me,” he murmurs. “I never thought I’d get my happy ending, but here you are… and I’m never lettin’ you go.”

You smile, feeling the last remnants of pain melt away, replaced by a certainty that this is where you’re meant to be. “And I’m never leaving,” you whisper back, sealing your words with another kiss that quickly reignites the fire between you.

This kiss is hungrier, more urgent, as if you both need to make up for lost time. Logan’s hands roam your body with a possessiveness that sends shivers down your spine, his touch igniting a fire in your core.

That night, you lose yourself in him, in the way he tastes, in the way he makes love to you as if you’re the most precious thing in the world. Because this time, you’re not just in love—you’re in love with a man who loves you back, fully and completely. 

And that makes all the difference.

----

a/n: i love you if you made it this far. please check out my new series The Feeling's Mutual

[iamaweirdbeing]

changes in the pjo show that are better than their book counterparts (from a chronic over analyzer who has been obsessed with this series since age 12)

sally working morality lessons and her own opinions into explaining the greek myths to percy (sally is amazing any details included that allow more of her character to be shown are fine with me i love learning more about her thought process. i also think its a really interesting and more subtle way to show that the mortal parents of demigods are also impacted negatively/are victims of the gods actions.)

stating outright that luke sees annabeth as his sister (bc luke seeing annabeth as anything other than his sister defeats the point of the series in a lot of ways. it makes him irredeemable and is disgusting which overshadows all of his valid arguments and the way percy mirrors him. it's like when an author makes a morally gray character commits some vile act that is out of character but is so bad readers can't ignore it in order to turn that character into a "true villain".)

BRINGING UP THALIA (thalia is one of my favorite characters in the whole series so of course i'm ok with any mention of her, but it sets up future events so well. we understand characters motives sooner, its probably a way that luke can gauge whether a demigod will join the titan army based on their reactions to the story, WE SEE HOW DIFFERENTLY IT EFFECTED LUKE AND ANNABETH)

the medusa and annabeth parallel (that change shows the truth of the gods in one parallel. it sets up annabeth's change in mind set that we get to by the last olympian. i can't explain how much i love this parellel.)

annabeth being the one to watch luke's string be cut (he is her family, it will be her dagger, it is only fair she be the one to see it. that is all i have to say about it.)

GROVER MANIPULATING A GOD (i love this so much bc i think it shows his desperation in a way. he knows how much is riding on this and after finding his uncle and percy falling from the arch he is willing to do anything to succeed. no more thalias.)

there's probably more but that all i can think of atm

[kwanisms]

Kinktober 「10:10」 — j.yunho

» ateez menu | yunho menu | kinktober masterlist «

➮ wereleopard!Yunho × fem!Reader wc: 3.3k summary: Yunho hadn’t been on a date in ages when he managed to land a date with his cute coworker, Y/N. Cue one awkward first date and a handful of other successful ones, Yunho feels like he’s starting to settle into his growing relationship. The only thing holding him back is that his girlfriend is so small and it drives him mad with the desire to pin her down and unleash his inner beast. He finally comes clean when Y/N asks him why they aren’t more intimate. genres/themes/au: angst/fluff/smut; supernatural, horror, thriller; non idol au, monster idol au warnings: adult dialogue, female reader, reader is smaller than yunho by a lot mention of alcohol consumption, supernatural and horror themes, mentions of: caffeine consumption (coffee lol), office dynamics, work relationships, coworkers to lovers, leopard mating habits in the wild (lol); sexual content (18+ mdni), see smut warnings under the cut! taglist has been moved to reblogs join my taglists! kinktober taglist is closed! Strikethrough means I cannot tag you.  MINORS WILL BE BLACKLISTED & BLOCKED. AGELESS BLOGS WILL ALSO BE BLOCKED.

a/n: i had a lot of fun with this one and like i mention in the smut warnings under the cut, Yunho's cock is... less than human lol. if that bothers you, don't read this. I'm not called monsterfucker for no reason! i don't really have much else to say about this so thank you for reading and 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), size kink, praise (f receiving), unprotected sex (use condoms pls), use of pet names (baby, babe, sweetheart, kitty, little one, etc), dom!Yunho, sub!Reader, Yun has a huge d!ck (because of course he does), biting (f receiving), scratching (f receiving), non-human genitalia (because he’s a werecat, he has a barbed d!ck. Does it make sense? No. Do I care? Also no. don’t like it, don’t read it ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ i’m not responsible for your media consumption lol), I think that’s all but just let me know if I missed something. kinks: Size kink + praise dialogue prompt: ❛❛ Try to stay quiet for me, kitten. Can you do that? ❜❜

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Being a werecat had its advantages and its disadvantages.

For instance, Yunho was extremely agile, light on his feet, and fast despite his large stature. All positives in his book. He was always the fastest and most graceful in gym class. Everything athletic came naturally to him. 

The cons were it was rough on his dating life. In his teens, he didn’t even bother dating because he was too busy with school and sports but when he finished college and started working, dating became a strange and foreign landscape for him.

Until he met you of course.

When he first encountered you in the break room, he froze upon seeing your tiny frame at the coffee maker. He’d been working at the office for six months by that point and he’d never seen you before. The moment you turned away from the counter, stirring your mug of coffee, and your locked eyes with him, Yunho knew it was all over for him.

You were quite possibly the most beautiful person he’d ever seen, your light makeup and soft lip color. The cream and black button down blouse with sheer sleeves and the tight black pencil skirt that hit just below your knees, hugging and showing off your curves had him weak in the knees.

He was doomed before you even opened your mouth.

You quickly introduced yourself, stepping forward to shake his hand. The feeling of your tiny hand in his was one he would not forget easily. You were so small compared to him. It ignited within him the desire to protect you from the entire office. 

He learned you were part of the IT department while he worked in human resources. You were a transfer from another location of the same company and had just started a few days ago. Yunho took you under his wing immediately despite having only been there a few months but he knew if he didn’t act now, someone else might beat him to it.

You started taking your lunches together and sending messages back and forth. Yunho started to show you around the city when you were off work and you became fast friends.

That friendship for him blossomed quickly into a work crush but he never in a million years thought you might also like him and so when he overheard you telling another coworker about your work crush, his heart sank, thinking you had developed feelings for someone else.

It wasn’t until he heard you say his name that he perked up and realized that you liked him back.

It took him an embarrassingly long time to work up the courage to ask you out and when he finally did, you accepted his invitation for dinner immediately. He’d worried himself so much with you potentially rejecting him, despite knowing you had a crush on him, that he didn’t even have a plan in place for the date but he quickly mapped it all out, scoring a reservation at a really nice place near the river.

Dinner was amazing, the food was spectacular, the conversation was flowing as was the wine and afterwards, the two of you found yourselves walking by the river, admiring the lights of the city. Yunho wanted more than anything to hold your hand and when he finally took the plunge and took your hand in his, he was a goner.

The date ended with him walking you to the bus stop and you had ask him to bend down so you could kiss his cheek before boarding the bus bound for home. Yunho had ridden that high for the rest of the weekend leading into the following Monday and safe to say, he was already smitten.

One date turned into two, which turned into another and soon the two of you agreed to be exclusive. There were thankfully no rules in place that prohibited dating coworkers so long as the two parties weren’t in the same department which you and Yunho were not so it was allowed.

Months flew by and while your relationship progressed romantically and emotionally, physically was another story. That’s not to say you hadn’t kissed. Of course you had. Yunho loved nothing more than kissing you, especially when you were perched on his lap but it never progressed past that.

Yunho was afraid of hurting you. He was quite large, not just in stature. His nature as a wereleopard also meant that he was a great deal more… animalistic. He didn’t have normal human parts. Just like a male cat had spikes on its penis, Yunho had similar protrusions, albeit not as sharp but he knew that it couldn’t be comfortable, having those raking against the inside of your body.

On top of that, he was afraid he might be too rough with you. So as much as he didn’t want to, he often pulled back when things got a little too heated.

It was no different as he sat on your couch, having come over with take out on a Friday night, your designated date nights. That night it was a night in with take out and a show the two of you had gotten into together. Empty takeout containers sat on the coffee table along with a half empty bottle of wine and empty wine glasses.

The tv played softly in the background as you sat perched on Yunho’s lap, fingers twisting through his hair gently as your lips moved against one another, tongues meeting in a languid dance, neither seeking control. His large hands held your tiny waist as you moaned into his mouth, grinding lightly against him.

Yunho had started the evening with an erection, covering it with one of your blankets while you ate and watched TV but when you climbed on top of him, he couldn’t hide it anymore as it strained against his pants, begging for release. When you rolled your hips again, pulling away to leave a trail of kisses down the column of his neck, Yunho finally spoke up.

“Baby,” he croaked, voice hoarse from having not used it in a long while. “Hmm?” you hummed, kisses down to the spot where his neck and shoulder met, a sweet spot of his. You pulled the collar of his shirt away to kiss and nip at the spot, making his mind go blank briefly.

“I-” Yunho let out a moan as your tongue ran along the exposed skin. “I should probably get going.”

You raised your head, lips brushing against his ear. “Why?” you whispered. “Tomorrow is Saturday,” you reminded him. “We don’t work tomorrow.” You pressed soft, wet kisses on the underside of his jaw, one of your hands sliding from his hair down his chest. “You could finally sleep over,” you murmured as your hand continued its path, one that was heading right for the front of his jeans.

“I-I…” Yunho was grasping for a reason to not spend the night despite the fact that he so desperately wanted to. God did he want to spent the night so fucking bad. He wanted more than anything to take you to bed, make love to you and wake up next to you in the morning.

“Please spend the night, Yuyu,” you cooed softly, fingers moving to undo the button of his jeans. Yunho snapped out of it and firmly pushed you back, holding you steadily on his lap as he looked at you with wide eyes. You stared at him in confusion. He could only imagine what was going through your head.

“It’s not a good idea,” he finally said. Your expressions shifted from confusion to dejected as he rejected your advances yet again. ‘Fuck. Don’t look at me like that.’ He hated telling you no, especially when he wanted the exact opposite. “I’m sorry, sweetheart,” he said softly. “It’s just…” he trailed off, knowing there was no easy way to explain his reluctance to you.

Never did he expect that you thought the problem was you.

“Do you not want me?”

Your question paired with the crestfallen look on your face made his heart break.

“You think I don’t want you?” he asked softly, moving a hand to cup your cheek. “Baby,” he said with a sigh as you leaned into his touch. “I want you so bad. I want you so bad it hurts,” he continued. “I’m just trying to protect you.” Your eyes opened to look at him. “Protect me?” you asked. “From what?”

Yunho let out a heavy sigh. “From me.”

Your brows knitted together in confusion. “I don’t understand…” you whispered. Yunho took a deep breath before speaking. “I’m not normal, Y/N,” he started, taking your hands in his, pressing his palms against yours before lacing your fingers together. “I’ve told you about the curse,” he explained, looking up as you nodded. “That you’re a wereleopard,” you replied.

“Well, there are things about me that look human and for the most part, I am rather ordinary,” he continued to explain, looking down at your intertwined hands. “But in some ways I’m quite… odd.” You let out an impatient noise, pulling your hands from his and pushing his shoulders back so he was leaning against the back of the couch, you leaning against him as you twisted your fingers into his hair, playing with his locks. “I’d say extraordinary,” you argued with a smile.

Yunho couldn’t help the smile that rose to his face. “You’re sweet,” he said softly, giving you a quick kiss. “But I’m serious,” he added, smile falling. “I wish I could explain it,” he continued with a sigh. “But it’s difficult.” You pressed a couple kisses to his lips and cheek. “Then show me,” you suggested. “Please Yuyu?” you added when he opened his mouth to protest.

“Baby, I don’t want to freak you out. It’s… weird.”

You frowned, sitting up and looking at him. “You are many things, Jeong Yunho, and weird may be one of them but that’s never deterred me before, has it?” you asked, tilting your head. Yunho smiled again, a chuckle rising up from his chest. “No, I suppose it hasn’t.” The smile returned to your face.

“Then just show me,” you repeated. “I promise I won’t go running for the hills.”

Yunho sighed and nodded, guiding you off his lap. “Just, promise me you won’t… freak out?” he asked as he started to undo his jeans. You nodded. “I promise, babe,” you replied, eyes wide with excitement as he undid his jeans, pulling the zipper down slowly. He raised his hips, pushing his jeans halfway down his thighs. 

You could see his cock already straining against his underwear, a dark patch of precum staining the fabric. It made your mouth water and soon you wanted more than to just see it. Yunho took a deep breath before sliding his hand into his boxers, pulling his cock free and your eyes widened as you took in the sight.

It was not what you were expecting. It was mostly human shaped, flesh colored with a bulbous head darker than the rest. A small bead of precum seeping out of the slit. The shaft was pale, veiny like most cocks but what set it apart from the rest were the small bumps around the base of the head. You leaned in closer to inspect, seeing that the bumps were actually pointed.

You looked up at Yunho. “Can I touch it?” you asked softly. Yunho looked surprised by your lack of disgust and that you were more curious and willing to touch him. He nodded, moving his hand to the base of his cock as you reached out a small hand, fingers wrapping around his cock just under the head.

Seeing your tiny hand on his cock nearly sent him over the edge but he managed to keep his composure as your fingers moved, dancing lightly over the head of his cock. “Oh,” you said, sounding surprised as you rubbed the pad of your finger over the spines of his cock. “I thought they would be sharper,” you murmured. Yunho was struggling to keep his breathing steady as you wrapped your fingers around his cock once more. He let out a hiss, head falling back onto the couch cushion.

Curiously, you leaned over, giving the very tip of his cock a lick, cleaning the precum that had gathered there. Yunho let out a gasp, hips bucking as you sat back up, giving him a cheeky smile. “It’s not weird,” you finally said. “I think it’s actually neat,” you added, glancing down at his cock. “I wonder what it feels like,” you added, fingers brushing the spines once more.

“You wanna find out?” Yunho asked, his voice dropping an octave. You looked up at him, meeting his dark gaze. Wordlessly, you nodded. “Yes,” you breathed out as he held out a hand. “God yes,” you exclaimed, taking his hand. He pulled you back onto his lap, pulling you into a kiss as you settled against his cock, the underside pressing against your cloth covered crotch.

“Fuck,” Yunho groaned as you kissed down his neck, fingers moving to undo the buttons of his shirt. Once you had it undone, you pushed the material aside, exposing his toned chest and abs. “C’mere,” he said, grabbing the back of your neck and pulling you into another heated kiss, tongue sliding against yours messily. “One second,” you murmured, pulling away.

Yunho watched as you climbed off him, tucking your thumbs into your shorts and slowly pushing them down, along with your underwear until it fell to your feet. Stepping out of them, you quickly removed your shirt and climbed back onto his lap as he shrugged his own shirt off, having removed his pants and underwear while you were stripping.

“Wait,” Yunho said as you grabbed his cock, lining the tip with your slit. “I need to prep you, baby,” he said as you sat down, sinking on his cock. You let out a moan, taking the head of his cock with ease. “Fuuuuck,” Yunho moaned, head falling back as his hands gripped your waist tightly.

He underestimated how wet you were as your walls enveloped him. “So big,” you moaned, pausing halfway down his shaft. “It’s okay,” Yunho cooed. “Take your time, little one.” You moaned, resting your forehead against his, your hot breaths mixing together as your body slowly adjusted to the massive intrusion.

As you sank further, taking more of his thick cock inside you, the bumps added to the sensation. Each inch stung, a dull burn as your cunt stretched around him. “Fuck, taking me so well, kitty,” he purred, reaching up to cup your cheek. “Can you take more?”

Without answering, you sank further until the tip of his cock was pressed against your cervix. You had taken every single inch without prep like a champ and Yunho would not forget it. Nor would he let you forget it. “Such a good girl, taking all of my cock. It’s like you were made for me.”

Your walls squeezed around him. “Fuck, you’re so tiny,” he said, as his hands moved up your sides. “Such a small little kitty taking my cock like a good girl.” The praise went straight to your core and you wanted more. As you raised your hips, you let out a strained moan, feeling the spines at the base of his cock head lightly rake against your walls.

“Oh holy shit,” you gasped, freezing. Yunho’s hands steadied you. “Are you okay?” he asked breathlessly. You nodded. “It’s different,” you answered. “But I like it.” You continued, more of his cock sliding out of you as the spines scratched the inside of your cunt. You sank back down on him, moaning loudly as the tip of his cock hit your ceRvix.

“F-fuck!” Yunho groaned, fingers digging into your skin as you started to move faster, bouncing on his cock, each pull dragging the spines against your walls and making you cry out. It didn’t hurt but it was definitely a much different feeling. It took ‘ribbed for her pleasure’ to a whole new level.

Your thighs started to burn as you tried your best to keep up but Yunho could tell you were getting tired and your legs were going to give out any moment with the way they were shaking. “Stop,” he gasped. “Let me.” Yunho easily turned, depositing you onto the couch on your back and was sliding back into your walls, as he pushed your thighs to your chest.

You cried out as he thrust into you roughly, feeling the spines on his cock drag against your walls. “Yunnie!” you whined as he fucked you against the couch, the room filling with the sound of his hips hitting yours with each thrust. Your hands moved to his back as he pounded into you, the feeling of his hard cock ramming into your cervix making you cry out.

Yunho let out a growl as he felt your nails raked down his back, the feeling spurring him on. Just as quickly as he started, he pulled out of you. He easily maneuvered you onto your stomach, re-entering you from behind and stilling there as he peppered kisses along your shoulder.

“Try to stay quiet for me, kitten. Can you do that?”

You nodded eagerly but the moment he started moving, you were unable to keep quiet as he slammed into you roughly. He never expected you to actually keep quiet but he thought he might as well try seeing as you had neighbors. They would just have to deal with the noise.

You pushed back to meet his thrusts, making him groan into your neck. You cried out in both pain and pleasure as you felt his teeth sink into your shoulder, his hips never faltering as he fucked you roughly. It was much more raw and animalistic than you’d ever had it but you loved every second of it.

“F-fuck,” you cursed. “M’gonna cum, Yunnie!” 

Your whimpers and moans urged him on, hips snapping against your ass with a renewed vigor as he pushed you towards your orgasm. “That’s it,” he breathed in your ear, letting go of your shoulder and leaving a deep impression of his teeth in your skin. “Cum on my cock like a good kitty.”

Your walls spasmed around him as you came with a cry of his name. He didn’t stop, chasing his own high as he thrust harshly into you until his own orgasm finally washed over him, releasing his cum into you with one final thrust. You let out another moan as his seed filled your cunt and he stayed there, making sure every last drop made it into your spent hole.

As you lay there, panting and covered in sweat, Yunho littered kiss after kiss along your shoulder, licking the spot he’d bitten down on before kiss up your neck and cheek as you turned your face towards him. “That’s why you were keeping from me?” you asked breathlessly with a chuckle.

Yunho laughed, pressing a kiss to the corner of your mouth. “I thought you wouldn’t like it,” he admitted. “I can be an animal in bed, or in this case, couch.” You laughed again, letting out a sigh. “Next time, let’s do it on the bed,” you murmured. “More space.” Yunho chuckled. “Give me five and I’ll be ready to go again.” You lifted your head, turning to look at him.

“Again?” you asked, eyes wide. You were exhausted. How was he not? Yunho chuckled as he pressed a kiss to your temple. “I told you,” he replied. “I’m not entirely like normal men. I’m a wereleopard.” He turned your face towards him, pulling you into a kiss as you felt his cock start to harden within your walls.

“And in the wild, leopards mate up to over two hundred times over a few days,” he added between kisses. He pulled back to look at you with a devious smile.

“And we have all weekend, sweetheart.”

©️ kwanisms 2024 | all works on this blog are protected under copyright. Do not repost, continue, or translate my works. All graphics made by me.

[synchodai]

HBO's Continued Insistence on Dumbing Down Westerosi Politics

So there have been countless thinkpieces already on how GOT simplified the feudalist politics of Westeros (by giving a lowborn sellsword lordship over The Reach, by having no consequences for destroying the Sept of Baelor, etc.), but I haven't seen a lot of people talking about that for House of the Dragon.

The worst being that the show presupposes that Rhaenyra is the lawful heir when the books showed there are plenty of lawful arguments why she wouldn't be.

Mind you that I've been enjoying the show a lot so far. This is just to vent out my frustration with the writers' failure to fully engage with the values and protocols of the Middle Age-inspired setting. The show seems uninterested in laws of the Realm in a story ostensibly about politics, save for when they're using it as an excuse to amplify depictions of sex and violence.

Blacks vs Greens wasn't a matter of misunderstanding of who each side thought Viserys wanted on the throne. It was the Targaryens' belief of their absolute authority clashing with the Realm's established traditions. Everyone always knew who Viserys chose as heir. In Fire and Blood, Grand Maester Orwyle said as much when he was parleying with Rhaenyra on behalf of the Greens.

Rhaenyra heard his terms in stony silence, then asked Orwyle if he remembered her father, King Viserys. "Of course, Your Grace," the maester answered. "Perhaps you can tell us who he named as his heir and successor," the queen said, her crown upon her head. "You, Your Grace," Orwyle replied. And Rhaenyra nodded and said, "With your own tongue you admit I am your lawful queen. Why do you serve my half-brother, the pretender?" Munkun tells us that Orwyle gave a long and erudite reply, citing the Andal law and the Great Council of 101. Mushroom claims he stammered and voided his bladder. Whichever is true, his answer did not satisfy Princess Rhaenyra.

(For non-F&B readers: Munkun is the Grand Maester who served Aegon III, the king who came after this civil war. Munkun's book, The Dance of the Dragons, A True Telling, is one of Fire and Blood's source texts. Mushroom is the King Landing court jester from Viserys I to Aegon III's reign. One is a source written with academic rigor but is secondhand at best. The other is a firsthand eyewitness account but is from a literal fool who will take every chance to make things more scandalous and sexual to please the crowd.)

In House of the Dragon, they replaced Orwyle with Otto and Orwyle's discussion of legal precedent with Otto handing Rhaenyra a book page from Alicent. It's quite evident here that the writers, much like Mushroom, thought a discussion on the actual laws of the Realm were negligible in this story about a succession war.

Even Alicent made no pretense that Viserys chose Rhaenyra over her children and I have no idea why the HBO writers decided to make her mistakenly think otherwise. Maybe they thought a queen regent pushing her son to take the throne over another woman made her appear unsympathetic as a character, but if anything, this only makes show!Alicent less politically savvy and more delusional than her book counterpart, fully believing an addled king's vague muttering on his deathbed was sufficient grounds to change heirs last minute.

Book!Alicent following Andal laws instead of her husband's wishes makes sense given her Andal upbringing, her devotion to the Faith of the Seven which enforces said laws, and her desire to protect her children from Rhaenyra given that Rhaenyra has shown she's not above murdering family (see: Laenor).

In the books, there was a long discussion between the former king's council on who should succeed Viserys.

Here are the arguments for Rhaenyra:

Rhaenyra was older than her brothers and had more Targaryen blood

the late king had chosen her as his successor, that he had repeatedly refused to alter the succession despite the pleadings of Queen Alicent and her greens

hundreds of lords and landed knights had done obeisance to the princess in 105 AC, and sworn solemn oaths to defend her rights.

Here are the arguments for Aegon II:

many of the lords who had sworn to defend the succession of Princess Rhaenyra were long dead [...]

Ironrod, the master of laws, cited the Great Council of 101 and the Old King’s choice of Baelon rather than Rhaenys in 92

the hallowed Andal tradition wherein the rights of a trueborn son always came before the rights of a mere daughter

Ser Otto reminded them that Rhaenyra’s husband was none other than Prince Daemon, and “we all know that one’s nature. Make no mistake, should Rhaenyra ever sit the Iron Throne, it will be Lord Flea Bottom who rules us, a king consort as cruel and unforgiving as Maegor ever was [...]”

Should the princess reign [...] Jacaerys Velaryon would rule after her. “Seven save this realm if we seat a bastard on the Iron Throne.”

Once again, the show chose to cut out this long political discussion. Instead, the council had already made up their mind and decided to stage a coup (when in their perspectives from the books, it would definitely not be a coup).

For all their marketing how two sides are equally grey, HotD is actively delegitimizing Aegon II. The strongest argument for him is how his claim follows the laws of the Realm, but the show doesn't seem to care about the laws of the Realm or the political need to maintain a more predictable/tested transfer of power.

Instead, the show focuses on Viserys's relationship with his daughter and the mysticism of the Targaryen bloodline. In doing so, they emphasize Rhaenyra's strongest arguments for succession — that she's more of a Targaryen than her half-brother and that her father prefered her.

And what for? Because in our modern-day, we don't have male-prefered inheritance and people can only imagine misogyny as the only injustice here? What about the injustice of a monarch exercising absolute control, thinking that his "superior" heritage makes him above the established laws of the native people?

This is not to say Aegon II is unquestionably the heir. But this is to say that the show removed the political nuance of why people are questioning in the first place. Precedence isn't the end-all-be-all of succession, but neither is "because daddy said so".

[mesetacadre]

hi, i hope you dont mind me asking this question! i often come across lists of reading recommendations for communists, and they are usually focused entirely on communist theory. which is important and im already on that, but i wonder if you also have recs for learning about history? especially the history of the soviet union, but also other past and present socialist states. i sometimes find myself reading theory and understanding the concepts in a vacuum, but with very little understanding of the historical context they were written in, if that makes any sense. and id like to get a basic grasp of the history of various socialist projects that isnt just the typical western "the ussr was evil!!!!" thing

Hi, historical context is indeed very important for works of theory, especially if it's more than a hundred years old. Lenin's What is to be Done, for example, is very conditioned by its historical context of Russia still being predominantly feudal, with only a timid appearance of the proletariat in St. Petersburg and Moscow, and therefore the very first trade unions, which he talks about. The understanding of these texts is amplified, and quite often enabled by knowing at least the basic historical context. Below I'll list the historical works I've read (and others) with some commentary, but I encourage anyone who has something to add to do so, since I am as of only recently getting more into historiography.

Anything by Anna Louise Strong (I've read The Soviets Expected it (1941) and In North Korea (1941), there's also The New Lithuania (1941), The Stalin Era (1956) and When Serfs Stood Up in Tibet (1959) for example). Her works, which I'd consider primary sources since they are written from her own experience witnessing events and talking to a lot of people, are extremely useful if you wish to form an idea about how some aspects of socialist states worked. The limitation of her works also resides in this specificity and closeness, these are not works that present a broad view of long processes, but a slice of the present with the sufficient historical context. They are still very, very good.

The Open Veins of Latin America (Spanish versrion), by Eduardo Galeno (1971). This one is focused on the history of imperialism in Latin America, how it evolved from the moment the first Spanish foot touched ground to the time it was written in (It talks about Allende before he was assassinated but after achieving power, for example). Perhaps it's not exactly what you're looking for, but it contains very important general context for any social movement that has happened since 1492 to 1971

The Triumph of Evil, by Austin Murphy (2002). I have mixed feelings about this book. While it insists on this weird narrative of absolute evil, which IMO takes away a lot of value from the overall points made, it is an astonishingly in-depth analysis of the economic performance and general merit of socialist systems against their capitalist counterparts. Most of the book is dedicated to comparing the GDR to the FRG, and both the economic and social data it exposes was very eye-opening to me when I read it about 2 years ago. If you can wade through the moralism (especially the beginning of the introduction), it's a gem. I've posted pictures of its very detailed index under the cut :)

Blackshirts and Reds, Michael Parenti (1997). Despite the very real criticisms levied against this book, like its mischaracterization of China, it is still a landmark work. Synthetically, it exposes the relationship between fascism, capitalism and communism.

Red Star Over the Third World, Vijay Prashad (2019); The Russian Revolution: A View from the Third World, Walter Rodney (2018). I'm lumping these two together (full disclosure, as of writing I'm about four fifths of the way through RSOtTW) because they deal with the same topic, Prashad being influenced by Rodney as well. Like both titles imply, they deal with the effects the October revolution had on the exploited peoples of the world, which is a perspective that's often lost. Through this, they (at least Prashad) also talk about the early USSR and how it functioned. For example, up until reading Red Star, I hadn't even heard of the 1920 Congress of The Toilers of the East in Baku, or the Congress of the Women of the East.

From here on I'll link works that I haven't (yet) read, but I have seen enough trusted people talk about them to include them

How to Cast a God into Hell: The Khrushchev Report, by Domenico Losurdo (2008). This one talks about how the period of Stalin was twisted and exaggerated through destalinization.

Devils in Amber, by Philips Bonoski (1992). This is about the Baltics and their historical trajectory from before WW1 to the destruction of the USSR (I'm not very sure on those two limits, perhaps they fluctuate a bit, but it definitely covers from WW1 to the 60s)

Socialism Betrayed, by Roger Keeran and Thomas Kenny (2004). This one deals with the process leading up to and the destruction of the USSR itself.

The Jakarta Method, Vincent Bevins (2020). This is about the methods the US used in the second half of the 20th century to stamp out, prevent, or otherwise sabotage communist movements and other democratic anti-imperialist movements.

I know some of these aren't specifically about socialist states, which is what you asked, but the history of its opposition is just as important to understand because it always exists as a condition to these countries' development and policies chosen.

[dalliancekay]

Aziraphale does NOT need to suffer MORE

Can't believe I have to say this. TW: grief, mourning, death (sorry) I have, since falling into the fandom 6 months ago to escape real life, seen many takes on how Aziraphale needs to (or at least should) suffer in S3 to match Crowley's suffering. As the counterpart to the moment Crowley thinks he lost Aziraphale as he's looking for him desperately in the burning bookshop....

...after this he drinks, we suppose, to dull his pain, waiting for the Armageddon. Or, for the way Crowley suffers at the bandstand argument, the 'I Forgive You' moments, which many people find utterly devastating and incredibly heartless from Aziraphale. Not to mention when he doesn't react in the 'right way' to Crowley's confession in the Final 15. And then on top of that, 'abandons' Crowley. For Heaven. Oh and also for, and I quote: "The smug and entitled way Aziraphale went around in S2 assuming Crowley would love and follow him everywhere." And so for all this pain that Crowley endured for him, Aziraphale should suffer in S3 (to I assume) even out the scores. Or... to deserve Crowley. Some people also want to see him lose it, show his emotions, to cry or beg or otherwise show how much he misses Crowley and how very sorry he is for what he has (so thoughtlessly) done.

Now for the TW grief content I motioned above. You can skip to the next sentence in bold.

I was on holiday late September last year, visiting my mum, stepfather and my two younger brothers. We went to a cousin's wedding. It was great. The day after, as I was hanging out reading a book, my mum got a call. The kind of call every mother fears. My youngest brother (he was 27) died in an accident. We needed to speak to police and the coroner. She cried and cried. She's still crying. She asks questions. She gets no answers. I...did not cry. I talked to the police. I googled a funeral home. I bought my brother his last set of clothes. He lived in a hoodie and torn black jeans. Mum wanted a suit. I texted a lot of people. I bought snacks for the many friends who came to the funeral and wanted to speak to us after. My grief feels like a vice. I am not sad. I do not appear sad. Contrary to what people expect. But I am ANGRY. I am furious. But nobody can see this. I am not fine and I wish no one would ever* ask how I was again. TW/Personal content over. WE ALL SUFFER DIFFERENTLY Since I was small (because I am weird like that) I genuinely wondered if, finding myself in danger, I could scream like people in films do. I don't think I could. I cope with hard situations, fear and stress and anxiety by shutting down, sometimes by retreating as well, and by furiously (but quietly) trying to find a way out. And I think Aziraphale does the same. And that's why I love him so much. And why I feel I get him and understand that people sometimes can't tell how much he's actually feeling. I also express love the way Aziraphale does - by organising things for people, inviting them places, making plans. When Crowley said you call me for three things (and it's basically any old reason) I felt SO SEEN. This is what I would do with a friend who I know is feeling unmoored, sad, stuck (Crowley's 'What's the point of it all' at the beginning of S2). I'd text them with any old thing. I'd never actually say I love you, but I would try to get them to talk, meet me, go somewhere. Aziraphale does not express emotions the same way as Crowley.

But his emotions are valid nonetheless. He is worried for Crowley from around 3 minutes into their acquaintanceship. And he NEVER stops worrying from then on.

And are we quite sure he has never lost Crowley?

How many times did Aziraphale's heart freeze in horror when he realised Hell has taken Crowley and he had no idea if he'll ever come back and what is happening to him?

How did Aziraphale spend the night after vanquishing the demons and starting a war? He had no idea where Crowley was. What happened to him. He was probably sick with worry that Hell just took him away. We didn't see him drink and cry, but surely, the worry must have been overwhelming. The wait for what will happen now.

ALL his worries over the Arrangement. Was he worried for himself? Do we really think that?

Crowley thought he lost Aziraphale in S1, yes, we saw that. And what happened to the angel then?

He got blown into atoms which I bet wasn't pleasant and when he arrives in Heaven he limps. Why is he hurt? And why is he quickly pretending he isn't? Why is he always hiding how he feels? Also, he immediately deserts, wants no part in the Holy War and quickly finds an extremely unconventional way to get back. It's not a grand gesture, he doesn't deliberate, doesn't worry that he will Fall (although surely that must have been what he thought will happen if he survives this), there's no pomp around it, he thinks it and then does it. No hesitation.

Is this coming from an angel who just can't leave Heaven behind and longs to be a part of it? Who loves to follow rules? And let's not forget in those moments Aziraphale thought Crowley was most likely gone. That he probably left for Alpha Centauri. Last he heard from him he was told he was talking to an old friend and had no time for him. Why we NEVER talk about how that might have felt for Aziraphale? About his sadness?

Things are not as simple as Aziraphale has been supressing his emotions and lying to himself about how he feels and he should get over it and become free. That's not how this works. First of all, he was suppressing his emotions OUT OF LOVE. His main goal was always to keep Crowley safe. They simply couldn't run away or hoodwink Heaven and Hell. They had nowhere to go. They had no hope and yet they kept loving each other. That's courage. I know we all grew up with Romeo and Juliet and Heathcliff and Cathy and we FORGOT that those were CAUTIONARY tales. And this is not what Aziraphale wants for them. He would never allow himself to go so fast he would hurt Crowley. He feels guilty enough for agreeing to the Arrangement and for meeting Crowley at all when he knows they can be discovered and punished at any point. And Crowley knows it and RESPECTS it. He does not tolerate Aziraphale's decision to not go on a date and to hell with circumstances. He understands Aziraphale's reasoning and he respects Aziraphale's decision. Don't forget, they have NO POWER. They can't change Heaven and Hell. They can't stop believing in God and work on their religious trauma. Their Heaven and Hell are real places with real power and they both BELONG to them. Aziraphale's trauma and his personality are deeply intertwined and he'd probably never be the kind of person who is open in showing their grief or stress like Crowley does. He will learn to be more open, I'm sure. With his love especially, we see him reaching for and touching his demon in S2. Openly being with him, looking at him without guarding himself. They got a little bit of freedom for themselves despite ALL odds. So. Just because Aziraphale is not crying and screaming and I dunno, tearing his hair out or whatever some people would have him do, does not mean he isn't overflowing with pain, fear, uncertainty, doubts, worries, and so much anxiety that if he let it all out, half of the solar system would turn to ashes.

Aziraphale does not need to suffer in S3 to level out Crowley's suffering. They are, unfortunately, equal in their pain as they are in love. If there is one thing Crowley would never abide, it'd be this take from the fandom. * One more note on grief: (obviously from my personal experience) As initiated by @anthony-crowleys-left-nut in a comment

It's not that I mind to know people care and worry etc, not at all. But asking how I am can only end up in me lying (fine, thank you) and both of us knowing it's not really true and feeling awkward or not lying (I feel like shit, mostly cos I can't sleep and think the world is a stupid, unfair place) and both of us feeling awkward anyway. Does that make sense? I wish I could tell friends/colleagues to ask what I've been up to or something similar instead. What I've been reading (um, AO3, but I'll make something up), watching, do I want to go see some spring flowers bloom (I do). I think...this would probably work not just for someone who is grieving but also for someone who you know is dealing with depression for example or a serious illness etc. Edit 2. It's now almost (in 15 days) a year since my brother died. The random attacks of pain and grief have lessened and I have started to do more of the things I enjoyed before... and I am able to answer how are you questions without feeling like they are trying to mock me (the questions, not the people). So I suppose things do get ... lighter? More diffused? I'm not sure. Because it's still exactly as unfair that my brother has not lived this past year as it will be however many years I will be here without him I expect.

[kingofthewilderwest]

We need to start questioning the conflation of "maturity" with "increased stakes."

It's not to say higher stakes is always a bad choice. The first half of the How to Train Your Dragon book series has an endearingly whimsical, child-like feel. Hiccup's issues in the first half of book one are an obnoxious, cat-sized Toothless pooping in his helmet. The movie adaptation might have made the book and its counterpart distant cousins, but it was a thoughtful move to alter concepts to the appropriately theatrical: books and movies aren't the same medium. Hiccup riding alone on Toothless, exchanging fire blasts with a mountain-sized dragon, and losing his leg came off as well-done storytelling.

Hiccup staring at a prosthetic never happened in the book. He didn't lose his leg in his encounter with the Green Death. It was, as the creative powers behind the movie said, a result of the increased stakes. They didn't do this just to be more dramatic; they did it because it seemed that, based on how their narrative was going, this made sense. And this was a soft, quiet, shocking, breath-taking scene that instilled how good the movie handled its stakes. It gave us a reflective reaction to consequences that audiences might not have expected. This movie understood timing, pauses, quietness, narrative arc, poignance, reflection, emotion, love, and heart.

We know about the conflation of live action as "more mature" than animation. But a medium doesn't change maturity levels. We all know that's bogus, and many analyses have been given on that. Disney live actions add extraneous gunk, down to Gaston having a past relationship with war (so I've heard, from the people who actually watched the movie), and Disney giving us the sad scoop on why Belle's mom isn't around. Furthermore, lots of times, when I see the conversion of animation to live action, I notice creators feel a need to "raise the stakes" -- in line with the erroneous view of "giving maturity."

But "higher stakes" often means inserting action in place of mindful interaction. I feel today's Hollywood movies, in their treatment of "action," don't let movies pause and breathe anymore - ergo, they don't let us think. Isn't it more juvenile to actively avoid thought in favor of "hey look I made the building go boom"? There may be less "stakes" in introspection and mindful dialogue, but that's what gives it its maturity. That's how we went from Iron Man 1, with its grounded treatment of war and abuse, to the mindless high spectacle MCU is today.

Snappy one-liners or moments that clap at contemporary issues don't substitute for maturity. What can make a story mature is characters grappling with issues in a natural narrative through-line. A snappy one-liner is its own form of speedy spectacle.

We know about the conflation of "gore and sex" with "mature audiences." I believe they're right that graphic sex and gore is designed for adults. But that doesn't make it mature, and that doesn't make it the only way to target a medium for adults.

"Realisticness" isn't maturity. Per above regarding animation: realistic visuals are nothing. And if you think that putting more Debbie Downer material into your adaptation makes it more adult, you have to ask yourself why the themes that spoke to people's souls got muddled in its midst. We weren't mature enough to interact with the most subtle, nuanced, and impacting voice of the story. But hey! Look! There's more corpses, I guess!

It's not the visuals, it's not the events. It's not the "things." It's not the basic insertion of the external. Get past the superficial, get past the top layer of presentation. It's the mind. It's the ability to think. It's the ability to be still. It's the ability to be interested and attentive when something is slow or quotidian, because we can understand why that is important for narrative growth or arcs or themes or commentary on the human condition. It's the ability to know when and when not to include something. It's the ability to make resonant impact. It's the ability to be deep with your emotions or your themes. It's the ability to take what you have and grow it in a way by which we can derive something deeper.

Maturity is critical thought and well-conducted, appropriate responses to content of any kind.

As DeBlois tells Empire, the move to live-action brings a different emphasis to How To Train Your Dragon; a new heft, both physically and emotionally. “It’s so dialed-up in terms of stakes — having a fully credible, photo-real dragon stomping around trying to kill him,” the director says.

And maybe that DeBlois quote is taken out of context. Maybe there's more going on than that one sentence conveys. Maybe Empire is making their own erroneous assumptions. But "so dialed-up in terms of stakes," isn't, on its own, a good appeal. The animated movie already dialed things up - and knew when to include or not include something. A live-action that imitates the visuals of the animated movie exactly, as if no independent thought has been done to its unique adaptation, to the pros and cons of the medium, to what a independently-presented story needs and doesn't need... It has to make you wonder: how many conflations of "maturity" are going on?

How long are we going to keep making our own conflations?

[newscroll]

In the lotr books, many female characters don't have much agency outside of men or are objectified, but as a woman I appreciate how femininity is portrayed in Middle Earth. Middle Earth is mostly patriarchal and famous warriors get the spotlight a lot and there aren't nearly enough women characters, but the narrative never implies there's something wrong with being gentle or "emotionally sensitive" in a traditionally feminine way. A lot of media that tries to be feminist can't say that.

The power of feminine characters tends to be less forceful, yes, but not less powerful (think Luthien facing Morgoth). In fact, I think women are portrayed more favorably than their male warrior counterparts for creating things (Yavanna, Varda), bringing growth or healing (Este, Nienna), or protecting (Melian's girdle, Galadriel's Lothlorien). The male characters rewarded most by the narrative are ones that show these "feminine" qualities, and those that disrespect them are rebuked.

As for the women in the main books, all are shining symbols of hope/strength to those around them. Their beauty is mentioned a lot, and there's some objectification there, especially with Arwen and Goldberry, but with the beauty power and wisdom.

(Side note: Most powerful, good things in Middle Earth are also beautiful in one way or another. Even Gandalf with the bushy eyebrows past the brim of his hat is described: "his long white hair, his sweeping silver beard, and his broad shoulders, made him look like some wise king of ancient legend. In his aged face under great snowy brows his dark eyes were set like coals that could leap suddenly into fire." i didn't realize Gandalf was like that but ok)

Anyway, Galadriel and Eowyn especially are powerful in the forceful way, but they learn not to covet power. They're given opportunities to join in the cycle of violence and struggle as martial figures and both turn from that path. Rejecting violent power to be wise and compassionate is an honorable thing in lotr, even if the characters and societies that make up Middle Earth often fail to realize it.

Summary: there are issues with how Tolkien wrote women but he made them out of wisdom and kindness and gentleness and understood the value of those attributes. Misogynists don't respect things that are "traditionally feminine", and the most praised attributes in the narrative of lotr are a "feminine" kind of bravery and honor, which perseveres and remains compassionate in the face of war and the temptation of power.

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

OMG RAVEN YOU’RE INTO EVER AFTER HIGH? I love it but can’t talk about it bc none of my friends have seen it 😭 I wish it was talked about more, especially with how deep their lore runs. I love EAH’s dynamics with the complexities of destiny. If twst followed the same logic as eah’s world it would be so interesting. How would you feel if the worlds were to mesh together and how it would work? You can interpret that in any way you want; the characters meeting or twst being bound to the same rules and societal expectations of eah, or whatnot.

Also who’s your favorite eah character compared to your favorite twst character (Leona)?Jade, right?

And have you read the eah books? I haven’t, but I’m going to try to sometime!

Eah alt account when?

I'm still salty that the Monster High x Ever After High crossover movie never saw the light of day-- Part of the reason why I don't like Disney (I mean the faceless corpo, not all Disney products) is because they have such a strong association with fairy tales that it pushes other interpretations out of the market or it leads to people assuming Disney "owns" those fairy tales. Ever After High's lore and themes run so much deeper than most other fairy tale reimaginings I've seen (and I've seen a lot). It's such a shame it doesn't get the respect and recognition it deserves even though EAH is the one out here challenging the status quo whereas modern Disney is content with mediocrity that appeals to the masses.

I think EAH and TWST, at their cores, share similar ideas so combining them would work well. Friendship, self-identity, defining your own future, questioning what "good" and "evil" truly are... It's all there. I'd imagine that if Twisted Wonderland (or at least NRC) followed the same rules as EAH, then everyone would be descendants of their Disney counterparts. (This is actually a common misperception of what TWST was to new fans; people mistakenly believe the TWST characters are children of the classic Disney villains. This has never been canon.) Unfortunately, I'd have to take away the Disney villains being twisted to be "good" guys in Twisted Wonderland's world in order for this to work by EAH rules, so... There's that to consider. This, in turn, can result in the student body splitting into Royals (pro-following one's destiny) and Rebels (anti-following one's destiny). Perhaps RSA and NRC could be one school in this AU...? Just so we have a mix of "good" and "evil" descended children in the same vicinity as one another. A must-have are the constantly bickering Narrators!! It's only really when Yuu shows up that the majority opinion starts to shift. Maybe then Crowley becomes concerned with students rising up and fighting back against the system that relies on them being complacent to keep the cycle of stories going. I've seen some readings of EAH which theorize that Royals guaranteed a happy ending is a stand-in for privilege, and that interpretation leads into very interesting conflicts when we also consider that magic in Twisted Wonderland is a privilege afforded to few.

To cover just the dorm leaders (because covering all the TWST characters would make this post way longer), I definitely see Riddle, Kalim, Idia, and Malleus as Royals and Leona, Azul, and Vil as Rebels. Here's my thought process:

Riddle is pretty self-explanatory. He comes from a background where he's used to being told what to do by his mother and so he also heavily relies on her strict, unyielding teachings to play by the book when he goes out there in the real world. Riddle is inflexible and hesitant to go against the grain--and, more importantly, he fully believes that following the rules will lead to his happiness... that doing as his fairy tale ordains will lead to a happy ending. What happens to the Queen of Hearts is dubious in the end since it's framed as Alice's dream, so I think that vagueness gives Riddle hope that by behaving himself, he'll earn the happiness he desires.

Leona is a Rebel, and not just because that's the aesthetic of his dorm. Being that he is highly intelligent and demonstrates a lot of foresight, he'd be aware of what future is in store for him and aggressively fighting against that. It would make him more desperate than ever to prove his worth, because not only does everyone see his powers as terrifying, but they also see him as a future brother murderer and dictator that will bleed the land dry of resources. It'd make the situation with his family even more strained than it already is, not to mention the extra jealousy he must feel toward Cheka, who is still too young to understand what's going to happen later.

Azul is someone who acts like a Royal but is actually a Rebel. He acts polite and like he plays by the rules, but clearly he doesn't behind the scenes. I see Azul as the kind of Rebel akin to Duchess Swan... as in, he believes he can steal away someone else's destiny for himself. Azul would constantly be looking for loopholes to save himself. He's put way too much stock into becoming a better, stronger person and he'd want to defend this new life he has made for himself. His obsession with protecting his contracts could translate well here.

Kalim is a Royal because he's mega rich and has been sheltered from the concept of bad things that happen to normal people; he has nothing to worry about. It also helps that Kalim is twisted from a character that doesn't meet a bad ending. I think he'd be aware of Jami's doomed destiny, but Kalim is so ignorant that he thinks it'll just be fine and it'll work itself out. Part of his growth could be being forced to reckon with the reality that Jamil is suffering under the legacy assigned to him and accepting the role that he plays in that by not acting.

Idia is a Royal--or at least pre-book 6 Idia is. He's a very pessimistic guy and repeatedly expresses hopelessness about the future, bemoaning the curse he and his family have to bear. Idia doesn't want to try to fight his fate, he's already accepted that it will happen and so closes himself off from others to save himself that heartbreak. Post-book 6 Idia will have swapped over to the Rebel side thanks to Ortho reviving the hope in him.

Vil is a Rebel simply for the fact that he fights social conventions. He's already out here shattering gender roles, but finds it much harder to breach that expectation that villains are just villains and nothing more. Vil keeps getting rejected at every turn, told that it's impossible to rewrite his story, that his frustrations are the natural result of jealousy and an ugly heart that festers in side of him. He steels himself to prove that notion wrong, working himself to the bone to get up on that stage and stay on it, waiting to be lavished with praise that he truly is the fairest one of all. I feel this would be so fascinating for Vil's own arc about self acceptance; maybe he wears himself down emotionally because he HAS to basically be perfect due to his job but also denies himself normal feelings like anger and jealousy because confessing that you have such "ugly" feelings only validates that you're shallow just like the stories say you will be.

Malleus is a tough one, but I settled for Royal in the end. Maleficent is doomed to be slain by a sword, right? So am I saying that THE Malleus Draconia, who is infamously arrogant about his magical abilities, would lie down and take a stab like that? Of course not! However, I do think that Malleus is initially someone who values tradition and living up to noblesse oblige. As the future ruler of a nation, people's stories are relying on him to play his expected role out, which he'd be fully cognizant of. I also think Malleus would be afforded the luxury of not having to face his destiny as soon as his peers are due to his long life span. This is in part because the person destined to slay him doesn't come into his life for literally hundreds of years. Then when book 7 arrives, Malleus has to deal with his loved ones leaving and/or betraying him as well as the realization that this is his destiny: dying alone and unloved. That'd just break him.

ahdbiqwdbqwli I COULD TALK ABOUT THIS AU FOR FOREVER BUT I'LL CUT IT SHORT OR ELSE I'LL NEVER SHUT UP 😭

EAH has so many good characters and interesting storylines, it's hard for me to pick a favorite! I of course love Apple and Raven's dilemmas, but I feel like it's cheating to pick one of them as my favorite. The whole Wonderland gang is also fantastic... I'm a sucker for their aesthetic, but they're so fun and silly in general. Kitty, Lizzie, and especially Madeline are 👌

Mmm, when I think long and hard about it, I think my favorite EAH character has to be Briar Beauty, daughter of Sleeping Beauty. Firstly, I love all the pink, roses, and bramble in her design. Secondly, I love the layers to why she is the way she is. Briar's a party girl not because "lmao, wouldn't that be a funny haha subversion of Sleeping Beauty" but because she wants to live life up before she falls asleep for 100 years and literally loses all her friends and family to the natural passage of time. That's seriously so smart and such an inventive way to think about the trauma a descendant of Sleeping Beauty might have. Seeing Briar transition from one of Apple's besties and biggest supporters to an outright rebel is satisfying as heck. (Gotta take a moment to shout out this classic moment :3)

I don't know if I would compare Briar to Jade since they're entirely different characters. However, looking at the source material, I'm actually surprised I like Briar as much as I do since I have never cared for the story of Sleeping Beauty. A part of me finds this ironic since Malleus harbors a similar fear as Briar (losing loved ones) yet I see Malleus's desire as way more selfish and self-serving than Briar's. I believe that's because Briar doesn't have the same arrogance as Malleus, so I'm more forgiving with her. EAH's actual equivalent to Malleus is Faybelle, daughter of the Dark Fairy, but I don't like her as much as I do Briar (hence why I'm comparing Malleus and Briar, not Malleus and Faybelle).

I haven't read the EAH books but I want to one day! I'd prefer to borrow them since I don't have enough space in my room for more physical books, so as soon as I find copies at a library or something...

This blog has kind of become a place where I occasionally talk about my other interests, generally as it relates to TWST, my main interest. I'd like to keep it like this since managing multiple blogs can be so draining. It already takes quite a bit of time to regularly write responses to asks just on one blog!

[clonerightsagenda]

May I ask what the 'no sex in space' rant is? Zero G sounds like fun :<

The space sex rant is my passion. Possibly because I have no emotional investment in the act so when it gets broken down into weird biology and mechanics by the cruel forces of physics, I find it kind of fascinating.

Sticking this below the cut because it will get long. My primary source is Packing for Mars by Mary Roach, but A City on Mars gets into the same issues. Yes, at least two books have entire chapters devoted to the space sex problem.

Note that this is all assuming microgravity. Many of the problems go away if you have artificial gravity, which we haven't cracked yet beyond building centrifuges. Your Star Trek fanfics are safe. So without further ado, and in no particular order, reasons why you probably shouldn't have sex in zero gravity and it probably wouldn't be that fun if you did:

The infamous 'no boners in space'. Since we're evolved to live in gravity, our bodies compensate for it by putting more effort into getting fluids above our heart. In microgravity, that's unnecessary, so you end up with fluid shift - more fluids, including blood, in the upper body. Your total blood volume also goes down. This would make an erection more difficult, and in fact most astronauts interviewed for whom this would be relevant claimed they didn't get any. The outlier here is Mike Mullane, but having read his memoir, he is the kind of guy who would lie about that. Now, as I touched on while despairingly liveblogging Barrayar, that does not prevent you from having a good time. However less blood flow would presumably mean less sensation in general for anyone below the belt. Or if you stimulated too much blood flow, with the lower total blood volume, perhaps that 'got dizzy because I got horny' joke will actually come true.

In microgravity, body heat and CO2 don't disperse the same way they do in regular atmosphere. Astronauts have to make sure they sleep in well-ventilated areas and are also trained on symptoms of CO2 poisoning. If multiple people are in an area exerting themselves, that buildup will happen faster and would need to be taken into account. It would be super embarrassing to suffocate crammed into a closet for some hanky panky.

The laws of motion are not your friend here. I've seen videos of astronauts pushing themselves across the room with a strand of hair. If you're trying to hold onto someone, you'd either want a relatively small space (maybe not a great idea, see point 2) or hold on really well. One astronaut Mary Roach interviewed suggested duct tape. Perhaps fuzzy handcuffs are critical here. Still you're going to need to put a lot of thought into every move you make.

Space is gross. :( Right now astronauts just wipe themselves down with clothes and dry shampoo. "Skin flakes" is a serious problem. Also we're still not entirely sure why, but astronauts develop awful body odor. According to Mary Roach again, while armpits are famous as a BO source, apparently the crotch is as well, it's just that those regions are typically further from our nose. So idk if anyone's going to want to get that close and personal with anyone else while they're up there. Then again I'm sure people have hooked up in grosser situations.

I'm probably forgetting some tidbits since I just woke up, but in summary, zero gravity sex would need to be carefully choreographed, require some equipment (fan, fasteners), and probably wouldn't even be as enjoyable as its Earthnorm counterpart. It's a good thing that's not what anyone's up there for.

[forgettable-au]

WHAT IS THIS AU? HOW DOES IT WORK?

A brief (I'm lying, this is a long post) explanation post for this AU for anyone new <3

As I've mentioned before, this AU is based on the theory that Papyrus is (was) Gaster. I did not create this theory, it has existed for a long time as far as I know and I'm also not the first person to do something like this with the concept, I'll touch up on that later.

This is a LONG post, so click keep reading if you really want to check it out :D

About the Papyrus is Gaster theory

I've looked up a lot of stuff about it but I don't actually know where it originated. It's not super popular but if you're a Papyrus theorist you might have heard of it before.

It's not a super serious theory really, it's more about pointing out the weird connections and similarities between Papyrus and Gaster and giving an explanation to the many weird things about Papyrus and his lack of backstory.

Just to mention some things:

Them both speaking in capital letters, having no asterisks, their weird way of phrasing things, Papyrus being described as forgettable, Papyrus hating hotland, pretending he doesn't know about a lot of stuff ( The lab for example, he know what a lab is but pretends he doesn't in front of Sans), Gaster being related to hands and Papyrus never taking his gloves off, Papyrus weird connection with phones (his photo-graphic memory for phone calls) and Gaster's weird connection to phones also(Fun events related to phones, using the phone in the darkworlds and only getting Gaster's garbage sounds), their love for puzzles (The CORE is a giant puzzle), THAT one quote that I still find misterious “beside, it’s rude to talk about people that are listening, right? not everyone is as though as my brother”, Papyrus DOES have Gaster blasters it's pretty much canon even if a lot of people ignore it, Papyrus is very very smart he has a LOT of books, knowledge on many subjects, building stuff, and even made a shakespeare reference when he died (why is he like this lmao), he's the character with the most dialogue in game yet we don't know a lot of stuff about him, he breaks the laws of physics and of the game, he's not in deltarune the heavily Gaster connected game.

Now that's some of the things I could think about, and look, yeah I'm probably looking too much into it and these are all just coincidences and the weird Papyrus things are related to other stuff maybe not Gaster. But I still like this theory, not because I think it's real but because I LOVE the possibilites!!!

About how this AU works

Okay, so this au is basically a -pretend this theory is real and how would the undertale timeline work then!- We're giving Papyrus his backstory and I'm also making a Gaster focused story at the same time.

I will adapt basically how I think a situations like this would play out (and also add some of my other favorite ut theories as a treat)

Papyrus used to be Wingdings and then Wingdings shattered across time and space, Papyrus and Gaster are different separate people.

Actually I kind of, treat WIngdings before and after accident as different people also... you change a lot when you become an omnipresent being. So, Wingdings, Gaster and Papyrus I treat them all as different people.

"How did Gaster become Papyrus?"

He didn't "become" Papyrus just like that. After he shattered he stopped existing like he was before, he became a being in another layer of the game but physically his body was just there

I based this on how the goners and Gaster followers have counterparts that are not, uh, goners that look different or deformed and gray

Papyrus was just kind af an empty shell at first, he still kept parts of Wingdings original personality but his Papyrus personality developed on his own with time!

"How did Gaster shatter across time and space?"

Usually everyone agrees it was because he fell into the CORE

About similar content

Not here! I don't think the CORE caused his accident, it is a power source not a time and space altering machine. In this story it was some other thing he was working on, and it wasn't so much of an accident per se

If you have more questions you can check the frequently asked questions post or send me an ask <3!!

I've seen some people tell me this is a good idea for an AU and I agree!! I love this idea so much, but as I said before I didn't create this concept or theory I just love it a lot!! and was desperate for content wich I surprisingly did not found much of

I was so surprised, I really thought there would be more people that made this before but I couldn't find much, so I'm just making it myself and one of my goals is to maybe make other people like this idea and make their own takes on it !! cause i think it's neat and would love more perspectives and content

If you by any chance also like this concept as much as I do I just wanted to make this section to name some inspirations for this AU

First, you all should really see "I know that I know nothing" by linssins

It's because of this comic that I discovered that theory in the first place and really loved the concept. It's my main inspiration, unfortunately the comic is unfinished. If you see it you will definitely see how I took inspiration... Still my story and this au is a different take on the theory, it goes on a different path.

Also another inspiration for finding more stuff about the theory were

@askthesciencesquad This comic is paused but it's also a Papyrus!Gaster comic! and I was very happy to find it, it is also a very different take on the concept but I liked where it was going. The same person also has this other blog where they put a lot of Papyrus is gaster stuff :0 @deviodofmeat

Okay so that's it, maybe I missed some stuff? but if I remeber i'll just add it later, that's what's good about tumblr.

[euthyami]

hiii so whilst i'm sick i made an evil manny concept for eviltoons because he never really had one

sure like, he can also be a villain but i wanted to make a counterpart that is all evil, so here is manuel!! (or marcio bc i do have non related nicktoons names for them)

i also made a cluster jenny design for eviltoons but due to me being sick it will take more time for me to finish!

more info about manuel is under cut!!!

he is created by sartana of the dead, i like to think that she manages to get his belt buckle and uses the power of her guitar and the power of the belt to make something of a skeleton clone of manny

that being said, manuel definitely has an ego and will try to defeat sartana herself, he thinks he's the ultimate villain and doesn't obey to anyone

his design is influenced by the original el tigre and django of the dead

as for his non el tigre design, i decided to base it off the book of life and how they do skeletons, so he still has hair, he isn't bald lmao

as for working with eviltoons, he definitely causes a lot of arguments due to his ego and his attitude, that group is so doomed

[cobragardens]

The Golden Lion

For all that Aziraphale is the more frightened of the two of them, Crowley is the snake: he camouflages himself carefully, and his first instinct is always to flee.

Aziraphale's is to stay. He insists on facing the Apocalypse. He insists on facing the Second Coming. He insists on trying to make a difference. He doesn't want to go up to Heaven, but he does it anyway, alone, because he wants to stop the destruction of Earth (again) and keep Crowley safe.

He's very difficult to shame, too. He never gives up his innocent pleasure in eating, even though Heaven, Hell, and probably people on Earth all mock him for it. He's soft and he remains soft, even after Gabriel shames him for both his physical and metaphorical softness. That takes a lot of strength and an unshakeable character.

You know the gold ring Aziraphale wears as a badge of office, that functions as the counterpart to Crowley's snake tattoo? The charge on that ring is a lion.

The heraldic attitude of the lion is rampant (i.e., reared up): it stands on its hind legs with its forelegs raised, as though attacking, and its head is forward-facing: it looks forward, toward the future.

Obviously in popular symbolism, lions represent bravery, and that definitely fits Aziraphale. He's literally leaving the only person who has ever loved him to go make the universe a better place for that person and for everyone, and he's going alone amongst the people who have despised and shamed him his whole existence and tried to kill him at least once; those people are mfing Heaven and have been entrenched in their power for thousands or millions of years. It doesn't get a whole lot braver than that.

In Christian symbolism specifically, the lion represents Christ. (He's referred to in the book of Revelation as the "lion of Judah" because the heraldic symbol for the tribe of Judah was a lion and Jesus was said to be from the tribe of Judah because his [step]father Joseph was from Judah.)

Normally when a story draws a parallel between a character and Christ, the parallel is one of self-sacrifice. That's not what's happening here. When symbolism for Christ represents his self-sacrifice, Jesus is invariably associated with a lamb--the sacrificial lamb--not a lion. When that symbolism represents Christ's mercy or holiness or divine nature/ordination, the dove of the Holy Spirit is used.

But the lion is a symbol inherited from the Old Testament. It represents royalty, power, threat, and seizure from others by force. Jesus is symbolically depicted as the lion upon his return to Earth during the book of Revelation. The lamb is Jesus' self-sacrifice and death for the sins of humanity, but the lion is Jesus' return, powerful, royal, and triumphant.

Does Aziraphale's ring foreshadow his involvement in the Second Coming of Christ? Probably! Is it a symbol that Heaven is the proverbial (and biblical) "lions' den" where they should be doves and lambs? Maybe.

I think it more likely that Aziraphale himself will be the lion, on a righteous rampage like Jesus chasing the moneylenders from the steps of the temple, telling them "It is written, My house shall be called the house of prayer; but ye have made it a den of thieves." Because the ring is a signet ring, meant to impress a seal that legally represented the wearer as an individual. So the lion is linked to Aziraphale himself.

Aziraphale is soft. It is one of his very best qualities. And soft and weak are not the same thing: because he is soft, he tried to kill the Antichrist, a child. Because he is soft, he stood alone before a demon in defiance of the will of Heaven and demanded with no power whatsoever to back him up that the demon spare children whose murder God had authorized. He, an angel of God, worked with a demon to deceive the Heavenly Host and, as he points out himself, thwart the will of God. Even before that, because he was soft, Aziraphale gave humans the gift of fire and self-protection and then lied to God Herself about it. I mean it literally does not get any more courageous than that.

And I can't stop thinking about what that lion, and that softness, and the link between the two is going to mean for S3.

[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? ❜

═══════════════════════════════════════════════════════

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.

[inhuman-obey-me]

Babe, Wake Up. New OM World Lore Just Dropped!

So. Nightbringer Lesson 22.

(spoilers, obviously)

The Father of Demons

While cleaning the library, MC finds a book -- one that has the same lines narrated by Solomon in the Prologue video. The book, like the video, ends abruptly at "the demon's name was..." as the rest of the book is gone, pages torn out.

The brothers wonder what the name could be, and Mammon insists it must be Nightbringer, to which Asmodeus agrees. Then, we find out that Satan learned some interesting information from a Celestial Realm book.

So the Celestial Realm also knows of Nightbringer -- but as "the father of demons", thought to be the very first demon born in the world. They go on to say Nightbringer has been known by other names as well, but otherwise, there isn't a whole lot more information on him. Okay, Simeon, please go home real quick and see if you can get this book in undamaged form for us.

That certainly brings a whole new weight to Nightbringer's identity, if he is indeed supposed to be the first demon ever to exist. So far, the game has been heavily hinting that Nightbringer is a version of Barbatos, and this new information would seemingly match up with one of the chats in OG where Barbatos mentions he was never a child, as well as the stories Asmodeus mentions of Barbatos being strong enough to be Demon King himself.

However, the identity of the child, as well as what Nightbringer's actual goals are with MC, is still to be revealed, and this doesn't help to actually clarify any of those questions yet.

The Secret of the Little D.'s

Another major thing we learned is about the Little D.'s -- and that is that they are technically fairies or spirits that came from a tree that the Fairy King used to tend, back when the Fairy King ruled the Devildom. The game goes on to explain that this makes them technically actually fairies or spirits, though the Little D.'s call themselves demons, so their true nature is a mystery -- especially since they are also sometimes born when a new demon is born into the world, but not always!

Interestingly, Barbatos also phrases it as those demons being chosen, so though it's extremely rare, it is seemingly not random, though we don't know exactly why or how.

New demons being born into the world also includes when fallen angels turn, it seems, since the extremely rare occurrence of these spirits being born alongside demons happened with all seven of the brothers after their fall.

So it's not that the main Little D.'s are just lesser demons of each particular sin, but that they are direct spirit counterparts to the demon brothers -- one for each of them, one for each sin.

Which brings us to ...

The Seven Sins

We've always known the seven brothers as the Avatars of the Seven Deadly Sins, but an interesting bit of information we learned in this lesson is that the brothers didn't know why they were given these particular titles, or if Pride, Greed, Envy, etc. were even known as the Seven Deadly Sins at the time the titles were given to them.

Beelzebub refers to them as "keywords", and we again establish it was the Demon King who gave these titles to the brothers. Diavolo says that if his father decided to give these titles to them, they must be important.

We know that the brothers were already exhibiting signs of their assigned "sin" even when they were angels, but as shown by Mammon's behavior in the past two lessons, the full force of each sin hasn't taken over all of them just yet. In fact, Mammon's greed has come out in a dangerous, powerful way as he becomes more of a demon.

It remains to be seen what, if any, relevance this has with MC losing their connection to the OG boys, but we know how they've changed by OG Season 1, where they fully embrace their sins.

We'll just have to wait and see!