#so what you ultimately take from the book is as reflective of the reader as the book itself

[insanitysilver]

Need book recs. Post your favorite book in the tags and what you enjoy about it.

[joelsgoldrush]

“epiphany” | 21k

worst!logan howlett x f!reader

SUMMARY: Superheroes and mutants weren’t enough. No—the universe had to throw in soulmates who share scars. Fantastic, right? Except yours had vanished, only to mysteriously reappear with the arrival of a new face: the “Worst” Logan Howlett, fresh from another earth.

OR What happens when a hopeless romantic crosses paths with the ultimate soulmate skeptic?

WARNINGS/TAGS: mdni smut 18+ strangers to lovers. drinking. cursing. slow burn. angst. pining. mentions of alcohol. fluff. reflecting on the art of writing/poems/books. dual POV. takes place after the events of “deadpool & wolverine”. TW: multiple descriptions of scars. worst/variant!logan. implied age gap (reader’s in her late 20s). they’re both touch starved. wade’s everyone’s friend. miscommunication/misunderstandings. oral sex (f and m receiving). fingering, grinding. some slight hair pulling. unprotected p in v, creampie. sex with feelings.

A/N: HOPELESS ROMANTICS RISE! here we go again with another long ass fic. this is a soulmates AU in which you get your soulmate’s scars. if you feel triggered by this topic, please refrain from reading. i had a lot of fun writing this even though it took me a while to get it done. thanks to @lubdubology for being my beta and allowing me to share my work with you. and also thanks to @brushworth for giving me the chance to write this. having said this, enjoy the story! i’d love to know your thoughts on it <3

Love giveth and love taketh away.

To this day, it’s still hard for you to wrap your head around the fact that love is what humans both strive and die for.

If it weren’t for love, you wouldn’t be here. No one would, actually. Human beings are the result of billions of people who loved each other just enough—or at least long enough to bring life into the world.

But isn’t it in the name of love that people act in bad faith? Why would something so pure be used in vain?

You don’t get it, but as the years go by, you slowly come to terms with the idea that perhaps you never will. Not because there isn’t a reason, but because you’re in love with the idea of love.

How could you not be? It’s on the streets, on the bus, at work. Everywhere you go, every place you attempt to set foot in, there it is. Love is dressed up in an expensive silk robe, a ribbon tied neatly on top of it. You reach closer, trying to unravel it, though it's pointless. The moment love sees you—truly sees your longing for it—it flees, and you struggle to keep up.

Love runs faster than anyone, hiding within the bushes, counting the seconds until its next appearance.

It had always been a relentless race, your only worry being to catch it before time ran out. But with each day that passed, the finish line only stretched further and further away. Now, they all blur together, to the point where you live and breathe on autopilot. 

In a Jane Austen novel, you’d be considered a lone woman. That character who’s nice, and kind, and loved by some, but not in the way she yearns for. Every time she’s mentioned, you go “Oh, the poor girl,” until the slow realization dawns.

In reality, she’s you, and it’s you who you feel sorry for, not a fictional character. You.

All in all, love giveth. And love also taketh away. 

Love maketh you miserable.

Soulmates—a nine-letter word that holds so much meaning.

It’s one of those words that you learn early in your life, one you hear at home or on the TV. Your parents never fail to mention it if given the chance. The first time you’re introduced to the topic is at school when you're older, a bit more self-conscious, and no longer preoccupied with picking your nose.

“Everybody has a soulmate. And no,” your teacher had added after a pause, already anticipating the inevitable questions from any curious 10-year-old, “there isn’t such a thing as not having one. We all do. You just have to search for them.”

Back then, that had been your favorite game—always keeping an eye open, scanning the crowd more than once in new places. You knew for sure that more than one person probably thought you’d strained your neck from all the times you glanced over your shoulder.

It must be pretty obvious now, the fact that you’re—well, alone. Saying ‘without a companion’ sounds quite outdated. They can’t see through you, but something in the way you walk or speak must give it away. 

Or is it the fact that you always ask for a table for one?

“Are you expecting someone else?” A waitress approaches you, her tone gentle as she makes sure you’re on your own. A small notebook dangles from her slender fingers, and your eyes catch the name stitched onto her apron: Emily.

The response you give her is on the verge of sounding automatic, robotic even, like one of those prerecorded messages busy people leave on their phones. “No. Just me.”

She nods, and you feel the sympathy in her gaze. You’ve mastered the art of recognizing that look—the one hovering between concern and pity.

Of course, people rarely voice it, but they’ll never know their eyes sometimes say more than they think.

As she jots down your order, you’re met with the ring on her left hand. Very pretty, very shiny. Very expensive as well. Your attention must linger on it a little too long, because she catches you staring, making you feel exposed.

Emily—you decide to call her that way from now on, because once you know her name, it feels odd to address her as the waitress—offers you a shy smile.

“I’m getting married next month,” she blurts out, happiness radiating from her pores. Her eyes glint like two lanterns in a starless night. She also looks younger than you, and the abrupt silence forces you to pinch your wrist, a reminder of the fact that this is a conversation, and not just something you're overhearing.

“Congratulations,” you manage to reply, returning the smile. If she saw how your expression faltered the second she walked away, you wonder if she’d still think you were so amiable.

Sometimes, your façade slips—you can’t help it. That’s what the ‘hopeless’ in ‘hopeless romantic’ stands for.

Some minutes later, she comes back with your coffee, and you catch another glimpse of the ring as it twinkles in front of you. Envy doesn’t suit you, so you shift your focus.

Taking out your laptop, you scroll through the latest headlines. This is your attempt at acting more like an adult and less like a girl in her mid-twenties who has no clue what she’s doing.

One article stands out from the rest: Hollywood Actress Divorces Loving Husband of 25 Years to Pursue Presumed Soulmate. “I saw his scars and knew he was the one.”

Interesting. You can’t help but feel sorry for the displaced husband, though.

“Good for you,” you mutter under your breath, clicking the link to read more. There’s a picture of the actress and her new boyfriend that makes you stop dead in your tracks: they’re smiling at each other, their faces close, noses almost touching, while they show off their matching scars—the unmistakable sign that they’re, in fact, soulmates.

Soulmates, superheroes, mutants. It all sounds like a whole lot, doesn’t it? Overwhelming, to say the least. One thing’s for sure—you’ll never get bored in this world.

But, hey! Don’t forget that there are multiple universes out there. Maybe in one of them, you’re not this pathetic.

Why are you being so hard on yourself? That’s not even the point. Shaking your head, you keep glancing at their scars—they’re identical, perfect mirrors of one another. The kind of scars that only two destined souls share.

Their happiness is evident, tangible. You can feel it by just eyeing the image. It’s a bitter sensation that metamorphoses into a warmth, which heavily spreads through your chest, filling up every empty space it finds. 

To say you understand that feeling would be a downright lie. And you may be many things, but a pathological liar is not one of them.

As if on cue, you duck your head, rolling up the sleeves of your jacket. You do the same with your shirt, foolishly hoping to find something other than smooth, unmarked skin.

No scars. No marks. No sign of a soulmate, of a lover. In the world you inhabit—this universe full of the most inexplicable things—you’re alone. 

Without a second thought, you pack your things, shoving them rapidly into your bag. The cafe feels too little and too large all at once, the walls closing on you.

The rest of the customers are looking at you. Fuck, they already noticed it—you can’t escape it.

Have they? Do you think they see you like you see yourself? The lone woman who writes poems for an addressee who will never read them?

In silence, you hand Emily the money for your coffee. You fear that if you open your mouth, a cry will come out, and that’s the last thing you need today. She gives you that look again—pity laced with sorrow, the one you despise. It burns.

At that moment, a man walks in, passing right by you. You see his face, his green eyes, and the way his lips curl into a grin as he greets Emily.

The scar on her forehead, which you'd missed before, mirrors the one on his.

They are soulmates. 

It’s on the streets, on the bus, at work. Everywhere you go, every place you attempt to set foot in, there it is.

She wishes you a nice morning as you leave the cafe. Little does she know you’ll spend the rest of the day locked in your apartment, mourning someone you never even met.

Until the day you lost them, you wore your scars with pride.

They were scattered across your stomach, back, chest, and even your legs and arms. Some were shallow, others deep. It never occurred to you—the thought that they belonged in the shadows, hidden.

Everyone has them, you thought as you stood in front of the mirror, running your fingers along their jagged paths. I just seem to have more than most people.

Over the years, you might have changed your hairstyle or the way you dressed, but your scars never did—they’d always been there, and they were yours.

Partly yours, of course, since you knew they belonged to your soulmate as well.

The older you grew, the more you realized having a good memory was both a gift and a curse. You still remembered that moment so vividly—when you found out that somebody out there was meant for you and only you.

A point of no return, that’s what it’d been. From that day on, not a single one went by without you imagining the first encounter with your Prince Charming. 

In the meantime, you dated. A few boyfriends came and went during and after high school, mostly as practice for the real thing, you’d told yourself.

God, you were determined to know everything. To be the best girlfriend ever, so that when you finally met him, he’d be over the moon.

At the age of seventeen, it sounded like a brilliant plan.

You never knew how, but your life became that meantime. All your friends began to find their soulmates: in the supermarket, while traveling, at the goddamn doctor’s office.

Everybody was fulfilling the purpose you’d been taught humans were made for—everyone but you.

The scars multiplied, yet he was nowhere to be seen, remaining out of reach. Your soulmate’s whereabouts were a mystery. What the hell does he do in his free time? was something you used to often ponder. Is he suffering? Does he need help?

“Be patient, give it some time. The less you seek, the more you’ll find,” your mother would say, trying to sound encouraging. Although she was trying to do her best, that phrase alone had the power to make you go nuts.

Be patient? Waiting was all you’d been doing. What was so wrong with you that he seemed to be hiding from you? You didn’t want to wait any longer, no—you wanted to find him. If it meant traveling to Italy like your cousin had to meet her husband, then so fucking be it.

Many nights, sleep eluded you. Lying wide awake, staring at the ceiling, you’d imagine what life with him would be like. What he would look like. You were certain that no matter his appearance, you’d think he was beautiful.

Wasn’t that the whole point of soulmates—that the bond you two shared transcended physical attraction?

Nevertheless, you secretly wished he’d have brown hair. He didn’t need to know, but you had a weakness for brunettes.

On the night of your twenty-second birthday, you were getting ready for the big event when every trace of your scars disappeared.

The bathroom mirror was fogged from the shower’s stream, and as you wiped it clean with the palm of your hand, the image you saw reflected on the glass made your stomach do a flip.

There were no scars. No marks. Nothing. At first, you thought your eyes were playing tricks on you—it couldn’t be. Scars didn’t just vanish. It was impossible.

But as you lowered your gaze, tracing your limbs again and again, the truth hit you. The marks you knew by heart, the ones that reminded you, He’s out there, somewhere, were gone.

You felt it deep in your chest, too. Every sound seemed louder and clearer: the blood rushing through your veins, each shaky breath you took. Where are they? Your fingers dug into your flesh, intending to ground yourself.

Is he… dead? It was the only reasonable explanation, the rule you’d known all along. You’d read it countless times, memorizing the principles about scars.

The scream that tore from your throat brought your mother running upstairs, and she entered the bathroom with a horrified expression on her face.

“What’s wrong? Are you hurt?” she asked, but your mind was already far away. Your whole body shuddered in her arms, a sob slipping past your lips as you crumbled to the floor, desperately hoping it was all a nightmare. “It must be a mistake, honey. I’m sure he’s okay.”

But he’s not, you wanted to tell her. The words, however, never formed—only a broken whimper escaped your lips. Isn’t that what we were taught? Our scars belong to our soulmates; they bind us to them in a way that simple words can’t explain.

It goes deeper than the skin. It delves into our bodies, our minds, reaching into the very essence of who we are. What was once his is also mine, but they’re gone.

He’s gone. He must be, because otherwise, how would you explain this void?

When one’s soulmate passes away, that person will notice the disappearance of their scars. The physical marks that once symbolized their connection fade, leaving no trace. This absence is accompanied by a distinct, unsettling sensation—an awareness of loss that goes beyond the physical, signaling the end of the bond.

A part of you died with him that day.

The first time you exchanged words with Wade Wilson, you thought he was a total dick.

It wasn’t as if you didn’t know him—not when he was so infamous for that mouth of his. Deadpool: the self-proclaimed superhero with a vocabulary that was 90% profanity, who made cracking jokes while fighting the bad guys look easy.

Super funny? Sure. But not exactly your cup of tea when all you wanted was to crawl into bed and forget the world existed.

He was apparently long retired from superheroing. No one had seen that red, sex-toy-looking suit in ages, which was why you were only mildly surprised as you spotted him hauling boxes into your building on a Tuesday afternoon.

It was late, and you weren’t in the mood for small talk. He’d been there barely a week, yet somehow, he’d already managed to fuck things up. 

You let out a deep sigh, rubbing the crease between your brows. “Look, Wally—”

“It’s pronounced Wade,” he corrected you, trying to edge his face further into the gap between the door and its frame, though you didn’t let your guard down. “You’re pretty rude, you know that?”

“I’ve been up for twenty-four hours, and I need to sleep,” you groaned, trying to push him away with one hand. Technically, he wasn’t even asking for something that complicated—he wanted to use your microwave to heat his dinner, since his had decided to stop working out of the blue.

The thing was that you’d had the kind of week that felt like a one-way trip to hell, an important detail he wasn’t aware of. “Go ask someone else. I can’t do charity tonight.”

“You’re the only one who answered,” he said, pressing his palms together in a pleading gesture, his lips curling into a heartbreaking pout. “Please, my lovely neighbor, whose name I don’t know. You wouldn’t want me to starve to death, would you?

“I thought you couldn’t die.” You raised an eyebrow, half-interested.

Wade’s arms dropped to his sides, his eyes drifting downward. “And I thought kindness wasn’t extinct, but here we are.” He spun on his heel, acting defeated and dragging his feet like a scolded puppy. “Can’t believe this is what the world’s come to. I’m sure the Bible says something about treating others how you’d want to be treated.”

Why. Just… why? Some cosmic, divine force from beyond might have been testing you that night.

“Wait,” you croaked just as he was about to step into his apartment—which was literally three meters from yours. His face lit up, expecting you to continue, and you moved aside slightly, signaling him in. “Five minutes and you’re out, okay? I really need to get some rest.”

The rest was history. Wade was just standing there, mesmerized by your microwave as if he’d never seen one before.

You could only hear the faint buzzing sound of the gadget, punctuated by the rhythmic drumming of his fingers on the counter. He was humming a tune while shaking his head to the beat.

You tried to focus, replaying the guided meditation you sometimes followed to sleep in your mind.

Allow yourself to feel the stillness of this moment. Notice your breath slowing as your body begins to calm. Be the observer of your breath, flowing in and out naturally, as your lungs—

Yeah, it wasn’t working.

“Please, stop it,” you eventually told Wade, whose gaze shifted from the microwave to you, brows furrowed.

“And why’s that?”

“They say it’s bad for your eyes,” you explained, recalling a half-forgotten news report you’d heard on the TV. Whether it was a myth or not, you’d never know. “I believe it’s because of the radiation exposure.”

Leaning back on the counter, he crossed his arms over his chest. “At this point, I think I’m safe. You, on the other hand… maybe not so much,” he nearly whispered that last part, and your desire to strangle him grew stronger.

Save me, mindfulness, you thought to yourself.

He jerked his thumb toward the pile of papers and books you had on your kitchen table. “So, you’re a writer?” 

“Editor, in reality,” you snapped, your eyelids twitching as you watched him leaf through your stuff. “Wade, don’t touch my things.”

“Sorry, can’t help myself. I’m very curious.” Flashing you a quick grin, he opened your notebook, squinting his eyes as he went through the pages. “But you write too, huh? I’m discovering plenty of material here.”

The bastard. “Give. It. Back,” you snarled, lunging at him and trying to snatch the notebook from his hands, but he was faster, raising it out of reach. “I hope your food explodes in that microwave, asshole.”

“Oh, right. I forgot about it,” he snorted, tossing the notebook onto the couch and retrieving his dinner instead. You stared at him in disbelief, opening your mouth to scold him, but nothing came out. Then, there he was, standing in front of you with his plate and a fork.

Wait. Was that your fork?

“It’s hot, I’ll give you that.” He blew on his food to cool it down, and as he glanced up, he was met with your murderous glare. “Whoa. Want some? You could’ve just asked me. No need to get so angry.”

Calling it a desire to kill him would’ve been an understatement. And the worst part? He couldn’t die. “You’ve got what you needed. Now, can you leave?”

“How long’s it been since you talked to another human being?”

You blinked, feeling the sudden urge to look around, half expecting a hidden camera. “Why do you always answer with another question?”

“All I’m saying is I’ve been meaning to talk to you for days now, but you’re practically living the hermit life,” he said between bites of chicken, excusing himself briefly to chew. “That robe you’re wearing? It’s had the same stain on it since I moved in. Also, your doormat’s buried under a mountain of newspapers, so either you really love trees, or you’ve been avoiding any sort of social interaction.”

If he had been wrong, you would’ve felt much better. But he… wasn’t, and it sucked.

“I feel like I should be scared,” you mumbled after a long stretch of silence, your eyes going round.

Wade did no more than laugh at your troubled expression. “Scared of me? That’s cute. I’m a nice guy, sweet pea. Persistent, sure, but I’ve got a knack for getting under people’s skin,” he said, grinning through a mouthful of food—which, for the sake of your sanity, you chose to ignore.

After he had finished eating, he let the fork fall into the sink, the metal striking against the surface with a piercing echo, making you jump. He stretched his arms with a satisfied yawn, and he seemed determined to leave you alone. “Well, I’ve done my good deed for the day.”

“What do you mean?” you asked, following his movements as he ambled toward the door. “Are you telling me your microwave does work?”

“Oh, you’re a smart one, aren’t you?” Wade patted your head, ruffling your hair like you were a puppy who had just learned a new trick. “Good night, peanut.”

From that moment on, the two of you became inseparable. Your personalities clicked in a way you’d never experienced before with any other friend. Wade was loyal to a fault, and he treated you like the little sister he had never had. 

Most importantly, he didn’t pity you—he saw you for who you were, not just someone marked by a lost soulmate. You never told him how much that meant to you, but deep down, you were grateful.

Which brings you to the present day. You’ve been friends with him for over a year, and he’s taken every chance to introduce you to his “weird but lovable” (his words, not yours) group of friends.

“Check your social anxiety at the door, thank you,” he’d tell you every time he hosted a get-together and you were invited.

Somehow, you had managed to bond with them—especially Althea, his elderly roommate, who occasionally forgets who you are despite living next door.

“Remind me of your name again, sweetie? All this disco dust must be affecting my memory,” she’d ask, leaning in close so you’d practically have to shout it into her ear. Then she’d nod, smirking knowingly. “Ah, yes. I thought so. Just making sure.”

She’s quite the character. A real sweetheart if you leave aside the number of times she’s offered you more types of drugs than you knew existed.

Tonight, you’re throwing Wade a surprise birthday party. Among all the party tasks, you’ve handled the decorations and the cake. The room’s a riot of color, with balloons floating lazily from the ceiling and a cascade of streamers draping over the furniture.

Guests start arriving, greeting you warmly, a feeling you once thought impossible. They’re Wade’s friends, sure, but on some level, you like to think they’re your friends now too: Vanessa, Dopinder, Buck, Shatterstar, Colossus, Negasonic Teenage Warhead, and Yukio.

As you hear footsteps approaching the door, Wade’s voice filters through the hallway. Panicking, you whirl around to the group. “He’s here! Everyone shut up!” you whisper urgently, turning off the lights and pressing your back flat against the wall next to the door.

Seconds later, the sound of keys jingling fills the air as both Wade and Peter step into the apartment.

You flip the lights back on just as Dopinder pops his much-anticipated party popper. “Surprise!” you all scream in unison, and Wade’s face splits into a grin, unsure of whom to hug first.

“You guys are lucky I’m not armed,” he quips, slinging an arm around Dopinder’s shoulders. “Six years ago, you’d all be dead!”

And you giggle, because… well, what else are you supposed to do?

As you expected, the night unfolds smoothly. You’re having fun, engaging in conversations despite yesterday’s emotional meltdown at the cafe. It’ll be okay—it always is. The food is amazing, the company even better. You remind yourself that romantic love isn’t the only kind that matters—that’s what friends are for, after all, to teach you that lesson.

The low hum of chatter fills the air, punctuated by bursts of laughter and the clinking of glasses, creating a lively symphony that wraps around you like a warm blanket. Yukio calls your name, waving her head in front of your eyes, trying to snap you out of your thoughts. “Everything okay?” she wonders, concern flickering in her voice.

“Yeah, I’m fine,” you reply, tightening your grip on your beer bottle. “Just thinking, that’s all.”

You all gather around the cake when Wade’s about to blow the candles. You know he’s preparing himself for a speech. “Another year of spinning around the moon, huh?”

“Sun, you dumbass,” Al corrects him, and you have to bite your lip to keep your laughter to yourself.

“Okay, flat-earther,” Wade shoots back, giving her a playful side-eye. “Anyway, where was I? Oh, right—I can’t thank you all enough for being here. These past few years have been... well, rough on me, to say the least,” he says, glancing down at the cake with a small, crooked smile. “But I’m happy now. We’ve got each other’s back, like a team!”

“Like The Avengers, you mean?” Dopinder pipes up, eyes sparkling with excitement. There’s a moment of silence in which you swear you’d be able to hear a hairpin drop.

It’s still a sensitive topic.

“Next time, give me a trigger warning before you mention them,” Wade mutters in a hushed tone, and Dopinder shrinks sheepishly. “I guess what I wanted to tell you was…” he trails off, his palm covering the place where his heart is, “that I'm glad you’re all here. Being surrounded by the people I love most is the best birthday gift ever.”

His words stir something inside you. Vanessa gently nudges his arm, smiling up at him. “Why don’t you make your wish?”

Wade dramatically drops to his knees in front of the cake, eyes fluttering shut before blowing out the candles, whistles and cheers erupting all around.

Just then, you hear the unmistakable sound of the doorbell ringing through the air. You exchange a curious glance with Wade, raising your eyebrows. “That’s weird. Want me to get it?”

“Nah, I got it,” he says, excusing himself to answer the door. He slips outside, shutting it behind him, and everything returns to normal. For a while, you assume he’s chatting with someone who dropped by to say hi—but that doesn’t really make sense.

“Don’t you think it’s weird that he’s been out there so long?” Vanessa inquires, her worry starting to creep in.

“I’ll go check on him,” you tell her, giving her hand a reassuring squeeze before heading to the door.

But when you open it, there’s no Wade in sight. Just… his toupee—or “hair system” as he insists on calling it, lying on the floor.

Kneeling down, you gingerly pick it up, a strange sensation settling in your chest.

Where the hell did he go?

After his existence went downhill, Logan turned to prayer.

Completely out of character, right? He thought so too. The number of times he'd stepped foot inside a church could be counted on one hand, so why would a man like him resort to religion?

In the past, he had been told he was part of God’s plan, but somewhere along the way, he felt like he had become God’s mistake.

After living a life plagued with loss and constantly in hiding, he wasn’t shocked that his self-worth was in the gutter.

Things only spiraled after letting everyone down, especially after that particular day when things took a turn for the worse. He had prayed, asking God to make him forget.

When that didn’t work, he just drank harder and smoked more. But not even drowning in alcohol and clouds of nicotine could put an end to his struggles—he was condemned to suffer.

In spite of everyone’s wishes, he’s still going strong, stuck with no defined purpose. It’s almost impossible not to fall into a routine that seeks to numb him, to put him under anesthesia—waking up after passing out who-knows-where, finding the nearest bar, sinking into whiskey and the haze of ashtrays.

Then he does it all over again, a never-ending cycle. His self-destructive habits don’t lead him to oblivion; instead, they intensify every sensation, making each memory and emotion painfully vivid. 

Day after day, he convinces himself he’s got it under control. Logan may be tough as fuck, and he may heal faster than anyone else, but his pride is in pieces.

No amount of strength or supernatural abilities can stop the decay he feels inside, the slow rot creeping deeper within him the longer he remains trapped in this life.

He slams the empty glass onto the counter with a heavy thud, tapping two fingers against it. “Again,” he murmurs, his voice low and rough.

The bartender looks at him like he's the reincarnation of all things vile. “I told you—you’re not welcome here. You’re not welcome anywhere. Now get the fuck out of my bar.”

Oh, yes. Music to his ears. If he had a nickel for every time he heard that, he’d be rich. “Just give me one more drink and then I’ll leave.”

“That’s not how it works,” the bartender replies, and Logan knows he’s screwed. Another public establishment he’s been banned from—fucking perfect.

Will there ever be a day where he’s not treated like garbage?

“It does now,” an unknown voice joins the conversation, and Logan glances to his side, arching a brow. The masked man doesn’t let his stare falter. “Leave the bottle.”

“Do I know you, bub?” 

“You don’t, but I know you.”

This serves as evidence of how pliant he’s become. Years ago, he would’ve already wiped the floor with this guy. They didn’t call him Logan “short fuse” Howlett for nothing. But now? He just can’t bring himself to do it.

“Everybody does. I’m the—”

Here it comes, the reminder of his personal calvary.

“—Wolverine.” Once he finishes the sentence, his words taste bitter. Perhaps it’s the venom on his tongue, or maybe it’s just the alcohol from yesterday kicking him again. Either way, both hit hard.

“Yes, you are,” the stranger says, continuing to stare at him, as if Logan’s worth the effort. “And I’m going to need you to come with me. Right now.”

Logan holds his breath. The worst part of it all is that his day’s just getting started. He has no clue who this guy is or why he’s claiming to need him.

But he’s got the wrong man—Logan doesn’t know him, and he sure as hell doesn’t have anything good to offer.

Or so he believed five minutes ago. Life seems to have its own way of surprising him.

Knowing he’ll regret it later, he closes his fingers around the whiskey bottle, chugging the liquor until darkness takes over his senses.

Nighty-night, Logan.

I'm aware that you're not mine, and nor will you ever be.

I’ve spent sleepless nights trying to figure out

where this need to call you mine stems from. 

You're like an antique, a rare piece displayed

in a crowded bazaar, drawing curious glances.

I’m aware that you're not mine

because I haven't bought you yet;

I hold no claim over you,

nor can I control who touches you and who doesn't.

I want you to be mine,

but no amount of money would buy your soul.

You're beyond reach—someone has already marked you.

I’m aware that you’re not mine, 

and I guess maybe that’s how life is meant to be.

“Bullshit,” you mutter softly into the quiet of your apartment, where the only sound is the echo of your own voice.

Chewing the end of your pen, your eyes narrow as they skim over the poem you’d written over a month ago.

Since then, you’ve been working on refining the details, but something is missing—that you can feel. The flow is awkward, the choice of words stiff. It’s like a puzzle that doesn’t quite fit together. 

You take a long sip from your coffee, tucking both knees up onto the chair you're sitting in. 7:30 a.m., and already, your mind is spinning, diving headfirst into a poem when countless other things are demanding your attention—like, a hundred things, really.

Right now, cracking this piece feels more important than any other task on your list.

Who do you write to? That part is easy—your soulmate. That deceased, probably buried, long-gone soulmate of yours.

It shouldn’t be funny, but there’s an absurdity to it.

Without warning, a memory slips into your thoughts—one girl you used to work with once advising you to change the subject of your writing.

“You should go for some self-love crap. People usually eat that up,” she said, not even bothering to look up from her nails, red polish smeared over the edges.

Her fingers were a mess, coated in that fiery hue, but she didn’t seem to care as she tapped your notebook with her lacquered index finger. “This is repetitive. Keep writing about the same thing, and people will get bored of you.”

“I haven’t published them yet,” you answered, your voice coming out more high-pitched than usual, betraying the doubt you intended to suppress. Her blue eyes flicked up, studying your face as you slid the now red-stained notebook back into your bag, away from her careless, messy fingers. “I thought… I thought we were supposed to write about what we feel passionate about.”

That managed to catch her attention. Passionate. She let out a laugh—sharp and cold, like something straight out of a villain’s script in a children’s movie. It grated against your ears.

“Sweetie, you call that passionate?” She waved her hand dismissively, standing up from the table.

Taller, older, and more secure—just the fact that she gave you her time should’ve made you feel grateful. “Not to be a bitch, but what you showed me is kind of depressing.” 

Kind of depressing. From that moment on, you kind of hated her. Small victories, though—the agency fired her a year later. You like to think you kind of won that battle.

Still, she might’ve been right about one thing: your writing does fall into patterns. It’s predictable, to say the least—the rhythm, the themes. Even the metaphors you include can be found in several of your poems.

Are you… lazy? Has someone revealed the way to break out of it? If there is, you figure you're fine without it.

You don’t want to write the kind of articles she’d churn out about the latest trends or the five best positions to get pregnant faster. Nor do you want to pick apart celebrities' lives for a flashy headline.

What you do want is to write about love. Real love. Even if you are not the most qualified person to do it. Even if nobody wants to read the words from someone who has never experienced it in the flesh.

And you’ll get there—how? You’re still figuring that out.

As long as you live and breathe, love will remain in your thoughts, haunting you—especially with your muse being the fleeting dream of a soulmate you never got to meet in the first place.

But it’s time to start your day—the real one. The one where you have to step outside the safety of your four walls and deal with reality.

The to-do list assembles in your mind: groceries, that book you’ve been meaning to pick up, emails you need to answer.

You let your mind take over, guiding you through the motions without a second thought. As you head back to your room, you get rid of the comfortable robe you love so much.

Next, your shirt comes off, tossed carelessly onto the bed. Just as you're about to step out of your pajama pants, you notice them.

The scars.

They’re not the same, not the faded lines etched into your skin that you could see every night behind your eyelids. New marks glow against your flesh, each one a map of something you don’t yet understand, standing out like new brushstrokes on an old canvas.

You can’t help but freeze, your breath faltering for a moment, and you nearly trip over yourself. Kicking your pants to the side, you stare down at your hips, thighs, the hollow of your ribcage. 

Tentatively, you press your fingers into the lines, expecting them to fade, to disappear under your touch like some peculiar illusion.

But they don’t. They remain. You can feel the raised edges, the subtle roughness, the heat beneath your touch.

These scars are different from the ones you had before. Under no circumstances are they the faint memories you once carried. No—these are fresh and vibrant. Marks that shouldn’t exist, the stories they’ve witnessed unfamiliar to you.

Within seconds, you’re sobbing, and you blink through the wetness clouding your vision, wiping your tears of disbelief (and maybe hope?) away with the back of your hand.

Nothing changes. They’re still there.

You've never heard of scars returning like this. It goes against everything in the manual on your shelf. Scars vanish when a soulmate dies, but they don’t come back. Not like this. And they certainly don’t change. 

Barely able to stand without stumbling, you scramble to your phone. The first person you call is your mom, your fingers shaking as you press the buttons. She screams into the phone, and all you can do is laugh through the tears.

What doesn’t sit right with her is the change in the scars. She mentions something about reaching out to a specialist, insisting that your case is rare—one in a million.

Almost immediately, you think of Wade, knowing he’d want to hear this. God, he’d be ecstatic. Before you even realize it, you’re standing in front of his door, finger hovering over the bell.

That’s when the realization hits you: he’s been gone for nearly three days, off doing whatever it is he does.

Ringing the bell, a smile tugs at your lips. News like these are meant to be shared.

“Althea, it’s me!” you call out, hoping she’ll hear you. You press your forehead against the door, fidgeting with your fingers. “I have something to tell you.”

Logan has had better days. Days that didn’t involve escaping The Void, fighting a hundred Wades, or saving an earth that wasn’t even his to begin with.

You know, normal days—of being sneered at while drinking to forget and, fuck, how many hours has he been sober? It feels like an eternity.

When the adrenaline wears off and the heroism fades, he’s back to being just Logan again. If he had a watch, he’d probably tap the glass and fake impatience to Wade, pretending he’s got somewhere else to be.

He should leave. That’s his first impulse: to escape before it’s too late, but a question arises in his mind: does he truly want to?

Wade watches as Logan rises to his feet, planning to walk away. Pretty stupid, Logan thinks, considering he knows no one else in this universe—apart from the scarred man he’s become friends with against his will.

“Logan!” Wade yells his name, his voice light but firm enough to halt him in his tracks. Logan turns to face him, greeted by Wade’s familiar, infuriating smile.

It's a silent invitation to a new beginning.

Nothing’s holding him back, so why not accept it? The odds of being the target of hateful glares are lower here, and that’s reason enough for Logan to give a small tilt of his head and return to the bench where Wade remains seated.

“We’re gonna be roommates!” the latter exclaims, a wide grin stretching across his face as they head toward the building. “Can you imagine all the fun we’ll have?”

Logan presses his lips into a thin line. “Looking forward to it,” he murmurs, a small glimmer of sarcasm slipping into his tone, although Wade takes his words at face value.

“Me too, roomie. Me too.”

“Let’s not use that word.”

Wade holds the door open for Logan with an exaggerated bow. “Why not? It’s the truth. We can even share my bed if that’s—”

The sound of Logan’s claws succeeds in silencing him. Wade recoils and covers his crotch, no doubt remembering past close calls.

“You know what? You can have the bed. I’ll take the couch. No problem.”

Was moving in with Wade the worst idea he’s had in a while? Absolutely. The reason? Althea, the elderly woman he lives with, isn’t answering the door, and he doesn’t have his keys.

Logan covers his eyes with a hand, silently questioning all of his life choices. And it’s only been ten minutes.

“This doesn’t happen often,” Wade reassures him, rubbing his neck.

“Hard to believe,” Logan mutters, some unknown muscle in his jaw beginning to ache from how hard he’s gritting his teeth. “You just leave the house without your fucking keys?”

Wade huffs, jutting out a hip in mock offense. “Those TVA guys didn’t exactly send a ‘We’re here to ruin your day’ memo. I was ambushed, okay?” he retorts, keeping a finger glued to the doorbell, its shrill ring gnawing at Logan’s already thin patience. “Al, I swear to God, I’m replacing your blood pressure pills with laxatives if you don’t wake up!”

“How old is she?” Logan asks, searching for anything to keep him from snapping the other man’s neck. Peaceful thoughts.

“Compared to you, she’s basically a newborn,” Wade replies, rocking back and forth on his heels. He’s having the time of his life—meanwhile, Logan’s self-control is reaching its limit.

His claws twitch in his knuckles. He’s had enough, and with a jerk of his left hand, they gleam as they slide out, ready to break the damn door. 

But then Wade jumps in front of him.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa. Easy there, buddy! I’m not letting you turn my door into a strainer.”

“Move,” Logan barks, not an ounce of friendliness in his tone. His stare is flat, unfazed.

“I’d rather not. You can’t just go around breaking people’s doors, man. Not cool,” Wade blurts quickly, placing both hands on Logan’s chest, pushing him away. “How about I ask my neighbor, huh? I gave her a spare set of keys for situations like these.”

“I thought you said this didn’t happen often.”

“Well, life’s full of disappointments.”

Before Logan can answer back, Wade rushes to the door next to his, slamming his fist on it like a madman, his finger hammering the doorbell simultaneously.

The devil’s orchestra—a symphony straight from hell.

Logan grabs Wade’s wrist before he can knock again, hissing: “Have some manners, will you?” 

Wade tries to shake his arm free from Logan’s tight grip. “She’s in there. I know it,” he replies in the same tone, but now he uses his other hand to ring the doorbell with greater feeling.

After a pause, he stamps his foot on the floor, throwing his head back. “Come on! Is this how you treat me after being away? Shame on you, Missy!”

This neighbor must be very patient, Logan thinks, to keep up with a guy like Wade without often seeing red.

As the door finally swings open, his grip on Wade loosens, and his hand falls limply to his side.

“What… the fuck?”

The sound of your voice—soft, slightly groggy from sleep—pulls his attention away from the door incident. His gaze is fixed entirely on you—you look as if you’ve just rolled out of bed, which makes sense since it’s still early.

Back in The Void, Wade had rambled on about all his friends, you included. Logan recalls how he had described you: a book editor who lived on her own and loved reading. You were younger—but then again, who wasn’t younger than him?

The picture Wade had shown him, with you standing in the background, hadn’t done you justice. He had found you attractive then, but seeing you in person?

You’re… far more than he expected.

More beautiful, for starters.

Fuck. Why is he even thinking about that? He must’ve been staring at you for quite a while—you glance at him like a startled lamb, clearly feeling self-conscious under his unwavering stare.

“May I know,” you start, tightening your robe, “why you were banging on my door like that? I thought I was getting robbed for a minute.” You direct your question at Wade, avoiding Logan’s presence, which makes something tighten in his chest.

He finds the way you stifle a yawn endearing, though.

Okay, that’s enough, he tells his mind. Let it go.

Wade steps in first, dropping his mask on the nearest surface. “Hello, my dear. Oh, yes, I’m fine. Just a few scratches. No, I wasn’t partying—I was kidnapped. Thanks for asking.”

You draw in a long breath, rubbing your eyes to wake up once and for all, and then you proceed to gesture for Logan to enter. Even now, you find it difficult to maintain eye contact with him. “Do you—would you like to come in?”

Not only are you pretty, but also polite. He nods, muttering a gruff: “Yeah, thank you.”

As he walks past you, your shoulders brush briefly, sending an unexpected jolt through him. A tingling sensation on the verge of being electrifying that has him knitting his brows.

His gaze finds yours, searching your expression to see if you felt it too. But you look away, closing the door to go after Wade.

Great. You must think he’s a weirdo. 

“I’m always up for company, but why so early?” you ask your friend, rummaging through the kitchen cabinets. “And are you going to tell me what happened the other day? You left without saying anything.”

Wade hops onto a stool at the kitchen counter, swinging his legs like a child. “You know Al. When it comes to sleeping, she’s like a much older version of Sleeping Beauty,” he replies with a grin, snatching the mug you were about to use for your morning coffee. “Thanks, you’re such a doll.”

“That was—mine,” you sigh, hitting him in the thigh, and Wade winces with a fake whine. “I don’t think I’ve missed you that much. Go back to being missing in action,” you say, grabbing another mug and filling it before raising it toward Logan. “Coffee?”

Logan hesitates. You’re treating him like you’ve known him for years, not minutes. “I’m… good.”

“You sure? I made it fresh, just before you guys arrived.”

“Don’t worry, I’m—”

“I love the chemistry here,” Wade interrupts your conversation, drawing your attention back to him, “but you still got the keys I gave you, right?”

You roll your eyes, blowing on your steamy coffee before answering. “I do, but I want answers first. And I want them now.”

Twenty minutes and a rambling, half-coherent story later, your drink has gone cold, and Logan’s patience is wearing thin… again.

Will he survive sleeping under the same roof as Wade? Stay tuned for more.

“And then I told Paradox ‘He has risen, babygirl’—”

“I think you’re being too specific,” Logan interjects, noting how you’re staring into space with wide eyes. “She seems confused.”

“I am,” you admit, rubbing your temples. He doesn’t blame you: Wade’s a terrible storyteller. You offer him a weak smile as you turn to him. “So… you’re from another universe.”

“Last time I checked.” His back collapses against the couch, groaning softly. He sits beside you, and the way your eyes sweep over him, taking in his disheveled and sweaty appearance, doesn’t go unnoticed by him.

“And how is it? I mean, do you have—”

“I’m public enemy number one.”

Too harsh, idiot.

“Oh. That’s… good to know.”

Wade says your name, and you look to your right, lifting your brows. “Do you mind if I grab the keys myself? I need a shower. I’ve been marinating in sweat and blood for way too long.”

You grimace, pointing toward your room. “Top drawer of my nightstand.”

With that, he embarks on a quest to find them, leaving Logan alone with you. Silence stretches between you two.

He doesn’t know what to say, or if he should even say anything. Casual conversation isn’t his forte.

“You and Wade…?”

Letting out a giggle, you lean back on the couch. “God, no. We’re just friends,” you explain, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. For a fleeting moment, your eyes bore into his, and then you return to burning holes in the floor. “I’m single. Haven’t found my soulmate yet.”

It’s his turn to chuckle now—a dark, humorless sound rumbling in his chest. You chew on a cuticle, Logan’s gesture igniting a sense of curiosity in you.

“What?” you ask him, puzzled.

“Do you really believe in that? Soulmates who share scars?” If he were to think carefully, he’d watch his tone. It’s too late, anyway—you straighten your posture, your face contorting with each passing second. “I can tell you do.”

“And I can tell you don’t.”

“Why would I? Those are lies,” he retorts, the corners of his mouth turning upward.

His opinion is anything but objective, totally biased, given that every time he dove into love’s arms, he was met with the crude reality: not everyone’s meant to be loved, himself included.

The look you give him is enough to wipe the smirk off his face. 

“Soulmates exist, Logan. We all have one.” There’s a certainty in your tone, marked by the subtle way in which you say his name, that he finds alluring. He shouldn’t, especially when you seem angry above all. 

“And where is yours, then?”

He regrets it as soon as the words leave his mouth. Your expression becomes inscrutable. You could be either disappointed, frustrated, or even exasperated—sad, perhaps?

Logan feels as though a weight has settled on his shoulders just from staring into your eyes.

You strike back with silence. Plain, pure, dreadful silence that has him wondering if he’s breathing properly.

At long last, Wade comes back from his expedition, keys dangling from his fingers. “It was quite the treasure hunt, you know? You’ve got a lot of garbage in there.” He sticks his face between Logan’s and yours when you don't answer him. “Guys, is there something wrong? Are you doing a staring contest? If so, can I join?”

“I need to start getting ready for work,” you announce, standing up from the couch. Logan mimics you, and you open the door, your fingers curling around the knob. “You should get going. And Wade,” you pause, acknowledging only him, “I need to talk to you later. In private.”

Without Logan. That’s what you wanted to say but didn’t.

“Sure, my queen. I live to serve,” Wade says in rejoinder, and he kisses your forehead briefly, which forces Logan to avert his gaze the whole time his lips are on you, feeling uncomfortable watching. “Take care, alright?” 

You give Wade a small nod, waiting until he’s outside your apartment to glance at Logan.

“Goodbye,” you croak, and he knows he should say something, that he—

The door almost closes on his nose.

Had he been an asshole? He was merely expressing his thoughts. The idea of soulmates didn’t sit well with him.

Once settled into Wade’s apartment, Logan steps into the shower, water rinsing off his body. Yet he finds himself unable to stop thinking about you.

The disappointment in your eyes when he asked about your soulmate.

The coldness in your tone at the end, so different from the warmth you initially offered.

He feels drawn to you, as if some sort of invisible string is tying the two of you. Were it possible, he would use his own claws to cut it, but he can’t discern where it begins or ends. Instead, he prefers to blame his touch-starved state for this reaction. 

He’s already hating this earth. So much for a man whose skin refuses to scar.

And where is yours, then?

His words shouldn’t have stung the way they did. All the charm—the gruff exterior, the mysterious personality—had vanished.

The guy from another universe, with the claws, the healing abilities, and the raspy voice, is a moron.

A ridiculously good-looking moron? Yes, but a moron nonetheless.

There is something about him you can’t quite place. A chill creeps down your spine as you replay the instant your eyes first locked. Your body had reacted in ways it never had before, drawn to him like metal to a magnet.

Why? You’d seen handsome men before, even been with some. Yet, you’ve never felt this—this gravitational pull, this inexplicable pull to invade someone’s personal space.

How would your soulmate feel if he saw you like this, lusting after another man?

You shudder at the thought. This isn’t like you. You pride yourself on loyalty—perhaps a little too much. You don’t read two books at the same time, and you’ve been buying the same brand of shampoo for the past five years.

So why now? Why him? It feels like a betrayal of your own mind, your conscience turned against you.

Let things stay as they are—it’s safer that way. You don’t want to know the reason behind this forceful need.

After all, being his grumpy and ill-tempered self, he’ll stay holed up in Wade’s apartment, avoiding any interaction with the real world. And you? You’ll forget about him. Easy-peasy.

That afternoon, as you take a nap on the couch, he invades your dreams. It’s not even a wet dream, but he’s there, staking a claim on a part of you he has no right to.

You wake up with your hand clutching your chest, a frustrated punch landing on the nearest cushion.

The next day, you drop by Wade’s place for a quick visit, your eyes darting around the room every few seconds, half-expecting Logan to appear out of nowhere.

“I told you, he’s sleeping. That guy’s got a fucked up sleep schedule,” Wade says, urging you to take a seat beside him at the table. “Why don’t you wanna see him?”

Because he’s messing with your sanity. Your brain cells are practically disintegrating at the mere thought of breathing the same air as him.

“I just—I need to tell you something.”

“Are you pregnant?”

“What? Wade, no! You’ve been gone for three days—pregnancies take months.”

“I’d make an amazing uncle, though.” He grabs your hand between his, his eyes sparkling with mischief. “Babies are so adorable at that—”

“My scars are back,” you cut him off, putting an end to his nonsense. Pulling the neck of your sweater to the side, you show him the thin lines etched into your collarbone. “But they are different this time.”

“Different? You mean they changed?” His disbelief is clear as he reaches for your arm, frowning while he inspects more of your scars. Wade’s jaw slackens, color draining out of his face. “Fuck. Fuck!”

“Fuck?”

“Yeah, fuck!” His strong arms envelop you, and you lean into the embrace, resting your cheek against his shoulder. “Is this good news? Are we happy? Does this mean I have a shot at becoming an uncle after all?”

You laugh a little at his eagerness, rubbing gentle circles into his back. “I am happy. I just—I don’t know what these changes mean yet.”

Althea steps out of the bathroom, her cane tapping the floor in rhythmic beats. “I already told you what they mean.”

Wade pulls away from you, glaring at her. “You meddler! Haven’t we talked about not eavesdropping? Hasn’t life taught you anything after all these decades?”

“Upside of being blind: I’ve never seen this motherfucker in Crocs,” she says, pointing her cane at you, though you know her aim is Wade. “Downside of being blind: I hear everything in this apartment. And you, kid, have a new soulmate.”

“I know what we talked about the other day, but... it doesn’t make sense, Al. You only get one soulmate,” you protest, feeling the tension grow as you pace around the table. “Why can’t it just be simple? My friends are getting engaged, years are flying by, and I’m still out here chasing this… this idiot who no one can even find!”

That’s when Logan appears, emerging from his room, holding several empty beer cans. He rolls his eyes and walks straight into the kitchen. “Great. Who else is coming tonight?”

Wade smirks, clapping a hand on Logan’s shoulder as he looks at you. “Sweetie, Logan’s going through his second puberty at the ripe old age of two hundred. The pediatrician said it’s just hormones, nothing to worry about. Excuse his shitty attitude.”

With a low groan, Logan shrugs off Wade’s hand, scowling. If anything, the younger man’s grin just grows bigger. “Wolvie, I gotta admit that whole ‘Don’t fall in love with me or I’ll break your heart’ personality shouldn’t turn me on, but here we are.”

You decide to take that as your cue to leave. You grab your bag, muttering a quick goodbye to Althea as you head for the door.

But Logan calls after you. “Can we talk?”

You freeze, your back to him. “How much did you hear?” you ask, not daring—not being able—to meet his gaze.

“All of it,” he admits after a beat, and you curse under your breath. “But it doesn’t—Hey!” He follows you into the hallway. “I’m talking to you!”

“No, you’re not.” You fumble for your keys, fingers shaking as you try to unlock your door. “Leave me alone.”

“I won’t,” he mumbles behind you, his voice softer now. “Come on. Don’t be so harsh.”

“I can’t believe you,” you whisper, finally finding the right key and jiggling it into the lock. The door swings open, and you step into the safety of your apartment. But when you try to close it, Logan’s foot wedges into the gap, blocking it. “Get out.”

He doesn’t budge. “No.”

“Logan, I’m not in the mood.”

“Well, me neither. But I owe you an apology.”

You wonder if he realizes the hold he has on you. No matter how hard you try to mask it, the unbearable pounding of your heart betrays you.

Scanning his features, you trace the rugged contours of his face with your eyes, lingering on the lines on his forehead—the aftermath of what it looks like a life lived through bitterness and pain.

“Can I come in?” he insists, his tone on the verge of sounding pleading.

You hesitate. The sensible part of you screams to send him away. Thinking that avoiding him would be as easy as stealing candy from a baby is a long-forgotten idea now: you’d been naïve to even consider it possible.

He’s going to find a way to sneak into your space, your home—and you’ll let him in. You’ll grant him a chance to cross a boundary that should’ve been already drawn.

It feels like you’re fifteen again, infatuated with the guy you know you shouldn’t get close to. Paul from high school wasn’t your soulmate back then—Logan isn’t now.

The smart thing would be to take a step back, accept his apology, and ask him to leave. That’s how you preserve what little remains of your sanity and protect your heart, which is already hanging by a thread.

But God, it feels so good to be near him.

You step aside. He walks in. Something tells you this won’t be the last time.

“I’m waiting.” You stay near the counter, pressing your back against it, and keeping your distance. Logan sits awkwardly on the edge of your couch, unsure of where to begin.

“Look, about what I said yesterday…I didn’t mean it. I’m sorry.” He sounds sincere, earnest. “I didn’t know you believed in soulmates.”

“It’s not a matter of believing in them or not, Logan. My soulmate is out there—yours too.”

Your words coax a grin from him, and he shakes his head. “I guess we’ll never see eye to eye on that.” In a fluid motion, he crosses the room, and you find his unexpected proximity a bit exasperating. “Do you forgive me?”

“I’ll think about it.”

“Give me a break, darlin’. I’m trying my best.”

“Well, you were an asshole.”

“Yes.”

“The first time we exchanged words.”

“Also yes.”

“And now you’re apologizing.”

“Positive. I just did.”

It’s not that you’re easy—it’s Logan’s persuasive allure that gets to you.

“What else can I do to win your forgiveness?” he wonders aloud, his syrupy voice making you tighten your grip on the counter.

An idea sparks in your mind. You move toward the pile of books next to the TV, eyeing the titles, until one catches your attention: your copy of Jane Eyre by Charlotte Brontë, one of the first novels you’d read when you were younger.

It’s adorned with colorful post-its, and the pages, sort of rough to the touch, are marked with handwritten notes in the margins.

“How do you feel about reading?”

“Not my strongest suit,” he answers, arching a brow as he takes in your enthusiasm. “What’s going on in that head of yours?”

“You want me to believe you’re sorry for what you said? Then read this,” you say, wiggling the book in front of him, “and we can start over.”

“What is it about? Let me guess: love and soulmates. Did I get it right?” he asks, playfulness lacing his tone. His breath hitches as you press the book against his chest, silently urging him to take it. His pinky grazes your hand, feeling your skin and sending a jolt through you.

Logan watches you with half-lidded eyes, and it takes every ounce of willpower to tear yourself away from him and his maddening touch.

You clear your throat. “Open it to page one hundred fifty-three.”

“Do you—you remember specific pages?”

“And read what’s underlined in black,” you murmur, eyes fluttering closed for an instant. “Please.”

Logan must mutter something along the lines of ‘You’ve got to be kidding me’ before searching for it. It’s only then that he begins to recite the passage:

He is not to them what he is to me. He is not of their kind. I believe he is of mine; – I am sure he is – I feel akin to him – I understand the language of his countenance and movements; though rank and wealth sever us widely, I have something in my brain and heart, in my blood and nerves, that assimilates me mentally to him. Did I say, a few days since, that I had nothing to do with him but to receive my salary at his hands? Did I forbid myself to think of him in any other light than a paymaster? Blasphemy against nature! Every good, true, vigorous feeling I have gathers impulsively round him. I know I must conceal my sentiments: I must smother hope; I must remember that he cannot care much for me. For when I say that I am of his kind, I do not mean that I have his force to influence, and his spell to attract; I mean only that I have certain tastes and feelings in common with him. I must, then, repeat continually that we are for ever sundered: – and yet, while I breathe and think, I must love him.

You’ve chosen a damn good page.

Logan looks up from the book, his mouth slightly parted, as if he’s about to speak. You interject before he can find the words.

“You’ve got a week to read it.”

“How long is it again?”

“Four hundred pages.”

He surrenders, sighing in defeat. “You’re killing me here, y’know?”

“Write an opinion essay if possible.”

Right there, Logan offers you a mock laugh. “Haha. That’s so funny.”

“It is for me,” you talk back, unable to hide your smile from him, and soon he mirrors your expression. 

As Logan steps toward the door, he hesitates and glances back. “We’re all good then?”

Leaning against the doorframe, you raise your chin defiantly. “We’ll be when you finish the book.”

What he says next has your stomach turning into knots. “You’re trouble.” His tone shifts—no longer teasing, but grounded in truth. Gone are the jokes; he seems to mean every word.

For the rest of the night, one line from the book doesn’t stop echoing in your mind—the line about soulmates: I have something in my brain and heart, in my blood and nerves, that assimilates me mentally to him. 

You’re trouble for him, and he’s trouble for you. You hope he knows it too.

He thought that not seeing you for a week would snuff out his feelings. That by next Wednesday, every thought tied to your name, every urge to uncover the last of your secrets, would be extinguished.

That's what time usually did: it diminished dangerous desires that couldn't afford to be voiced, and buried those longings that had no place in the light of day.

Logan now figures he’s been underestimating the spell you cast on him with just a few glances and the intensity of your eyes. He’s seen you animated, angry—both defiant and vulnerable.

Each of your gestures feels like a memory he can’t quite place.

The way you laugh, the right corner of your mouth lifting just slightly higher than the left—he swears it isn’t the first time he's seen a smile brighter than the sun.

Still, he convinces himself it’s all in his head. He must be the one losing his mind, the years finally catching up to him. It’s the only reasonable explanation for the thoughts that consume his every waking moment.

He’s wrong—you’re right. He’s seeing things where there are none—you’re simply too kind.

Too kind. Too young. Too damn clever for your own good, with your books and that sharp mind of yours. He wonders how you see yourself.

Do you like the reflection in the mirror? Are you content with the way your life has turned out?

Do you, too, lie awake at night, the bed stretching endlessly, aching for a touch that never comes?

The walls in this place are paper-thin. When darkness falls, and the moon rises, the big, scary Wolverine can’t close his eyes.

Instead, he listens.

Some nights, you play the same movie on repeat—a romantic comedy that lasts exactly one hundred and twenty minutes. For two hours straight, he’s privy to your laughter, your commentary at the characters on the screen.

He hears you cry when the lead couple drifts apart after a terrible argument, but they always find their way back to each other, and you watch every second until the credits roll.

None of the other films you pick ever ends in heartbreak, he realizes. They all have happy endings—the kind you wish for yourself.

One way or another, there must be a way to get you out of his system. He knows, without a doubt, that you wouldn’t want him. He’s not your soulmate, and it’s clear that finding that person has become the center of your existence.

Logan can’t allow himself to be the moron who derails your purpose.

Sure, he’s done bad things, but he likes to believe that at least a part of him—some small fraction—hasn’t been lost yet. That there’s a piece of him that can be saved, which is the reason why he stayed here: to be a better man than the one he was in his universe.

But it’s hard. Harder still because it’s you who disrupts his quest for redemption. How is he supposed to go on with his life when every thought circles back to you? The idea of holding you, kissing you—sleeping beside you haunts him.

And so the images blur, new dreams twisting with his usual nightmares.

Which one is worse, he can no longer tell.

One afternoon, while deliberately steering clear of Jane Eyre, he reluctantly turns to Wade in search of answers. “Tell me more about her.”

Wade, lounging on the couch, stops scrolling on his phone and drops it onto his chest, drawing his eyebrows together.

“Her? Who do you mean?” His tone oozes with feigned innocence, barely containing a shit-eating grin when Logan grits out your name, his tone rough, almost pained. “Oh, Romeo. You’ve got it bad.”

Intending to maintain some semblance of control, Logan strides into the kitchen, grabbing a glass and the last bottle of whiskey. As he tips it, only a few drops fall into the glass.

“No, I don’t,” he says, extending his arm and holding the bottle up. “We’re out of whiskey.”

“You keep saying we, but you’re the only alcoholic in this apartment.” Wade kicks off his shoes, propping his feet on the coffee table. “So, why the sudden interest in the lady? She getting through that tough exterior of yours? I’ll give her points for that.”

“And you wonder why I don’t talk to you.”

“I saw the book,” the younger man replies, lacing his fingers behind his head, watching as Logan rummages through the fridge with increasing frustration. “You never told me you were into classics. If I’d known, I’d have gotten you a copy of Pride and Prejudice.”

“Shut your mouth.”

“I’m sorry, weren’t you the one who came to me, looking for the essential oil of truth?”

The silence that follows is thick and uncomfortable, mood-killing.

“See what I just did there?” he adds, and Logan feels forced to shake his head from side to side, appearing conflicted. Wade lets out a low huff. “That was Virginia Woolf. Add her to your reading list.”

“Has anyone ever told you how obnoxious you are?”

“More times than I can count. I’m just not everyone’s cup of coffee.”

“Tea, Wade. Not everyone’s cup of tea.”

“Whatever.” Wade simpers, as though Logan’s correction is the punchline to a joke only he gets. He sets his palms flat on the table, looming closer with a mischievous glint in his eyes. “So, what would you like to know about my dear friend?”

Logan hesitates, the weight of his question heavy on his tongue. “What’s the deal with her scars?”

The air shifts. Wade’s playful expression fades and he tilts his head, his tone turning serious. “I don’t think it’s my story to tell,” he begins, gaze dropping to the floor. “But she lost them years ago. She was living a normal life, and one day, they were just—gone, like they were never there. It broke her. We didn’t know each other back then, but you’ve seen her.”

Wade’s eyes flick back up, while Logan stands there, tongue-tied. “You even know the kind of books she reads—nothing can shake that belief in real love, in soulmates being destined. Imagine how she must’ve felt when she found out her presumed soulmate was dead… without a single warning.”

From what he had heard, that sense of loss was impossible to put into words. Those who’d gone through it described the experience as if half of you—your body, your soul, your very essence—was being ripped away.

The pain was excruciating, and the only way to survive it was by means of tolerating it—no remedy, just the endurance to outlast the agony.

It wasn’t just a momentary hurt. It was the kind of torment that lingered, making you question who you were and what little remained of you.

You and Logan had more in common than he’s willing to admit.

“She’s a good person,” he mutters absent-mindedly, his thumb grazing the cover of the book. He had carried it everywhere for a week now, without even cracking it open.

“Oh, you dirty pig…” Wade whispers, his eyes lighting up as if a lightbulb suddenly went off in his mind. “Now I get it. You wanna know her. Like, really know her!”

“I don’t—”

“Your sex life is none of my business. I’m all up for you putting your mutant dick to work, otherwise it’s just wasted potential. But it’s my friend we’re talking about.”

Logan’s jaw tightens, and he snaps. “Drop the speech, alright? I’m not trying to get into her pants. I just want to be nice. That’s all.”

“Nice, huh? What’s your version of nice? Starting a two-person book club?” Wade stifles a laugh, pressing a finger to Logan’s chest. “Look, if you want to sleep with her, and the feeling’s mutual, then go for it. Just tell me this—how long’s it been since you visited Pussy Village? Was it before or after the Big Bang?”

Things are never truly serious with Wade Wilson. “I’m not answering that.”

Wade raises both hands in surrender, still chuckling. “Fine, fine. But if you’re really interested, just be clear about it. She doesn’t need a half-assed situationship.”

By now, it’s like a mantra he repeats again and again, hoping that eventually both Wade and he will start to believe it. “I don’t want to have sex with her.”

As he heads back to his (now Wade’s old) room, Wade adds, “I’m sure she’d appreciate it if you underlined some quotes you like.”

Much to his dismay, that’s exactly what Logan does.

His handwriting isn’t the most legible, but he tries his best, leaving notes in the margins of some pages, such as:

I hate this John kid.

Her aunt is a cunt.

This is too cheesy.

Mr. Rochester’s married?

St. John—what a prick.

He finishes the book at 7 a.m. A long-ass book—just for you. While getting ready for work, Wade calls him an unemployed fucker, and Logan knows nothing better than to shoot back a similar insult, stretching his arms as the first rays of sunlight creep through the curtains.

Wade was right about something, even if Logan himself doesn’t wish to admit it: he’s behaving like a teenager—staying up until dawn, practically chained to the bed without daring to go out. Falling for a girl he didn’t know a week ago.

Learning to control his impulses has been a hard task, especially with his temperament. Over the years, Logan thought he’d mastered the art of self-restraint, long past the point where his body moved without his mind’s permission.

As his feet carry him down the hall toward your apartment, he recognizes how wrong he is.

This is a terrible idea, he thinks. And yet, his fist knocks on the wood. Three times.

Fuck.

The door opens just a crack. You peek out, your face barely visible, eyes puffy from sleep. “Logan?”

His name isn’t a fancy one. It’s pretty normal, pretty standard. There must be a thousand other guys named like him—yet it’s only when you say it, your voice turning it into something rare and unique, that it feels different, like it’s only his.

The tone you use with him isn’t the one he’s used to: Logan, you’re a disappointment. Logan, how dare you turn your back on your friends? Logan, they’re all dead. Logan, it’s your fault.

Yours is inviting, and warm, and new. He likes new.

“I just finished it,” he answers, holding up the book, mindful not to grip it too tight as not to crumple the pages.

You scratch the back of your head, blinking at him. “You just finished it… at 7 a.m.?

Yeah, it sounds stupid now that you say it out loud, but it’s true. Hoping his reaction is enough to explain what he can’t put into words, he gives you a slow nod.

This time, you don’t wait for him to say more. “Come in?”

Yes, this is what he’s been looking forward all week. This moment, this interaction.

This Come in. This Yes, thank you. You’re so kind.

His quiet acceptance of your invitation, the unpronounced thought of I don’t deserve this, but I can’t back off now, because how could I ever say no to you?

He follows you into the kitchen as you move to make tea. “Want some?” you ask, but he declines the offer. If he were to drink anything right now, it would be something much stronger, not tea, despite the early hour. “You’re here to talk about the book?”

“Well, you told me I could come back after reading it.”

“I did,” you say, a small smile tugging at your lips as you hide it behind your mug. “I just wasn’t expecting you to be so punctual.”

You don’t need to know that he’s been counting down the seconds, marking each minute in his mind since the last time he saw you. That’s a detail he’ll keep to himself. “It’s a good story.”

“Tell me about it.” You smile even wider, and he takes a moment to absorb the details of your face—the crinkles by your eyes, the way your nose scrunches when you’re amused. “I lent you my most precious book. Fell in love with it years ago.”

“I can see why you liked it,” he explains, flipping through the pages to find the one he marked. “All the romance and the yearning—”

“Hey, it’s also good for other reasons,” you try to defend yourself, but any other argument dies on your lips when he finds the passage he was looking for and begins to read aloud.

“I sometimes have a queer feeling with regard to you, especially when you are near me, as now,” he recites, his voice lower, almost reverent, as he looks up from the page to meet your gaze. “It is as if I had a string somewhere under my left ribs, tightly and inextricably knotted to a similar string situated in the corresponding quarter of your frame.”

You seem startled by the sharp sound of him closing the book. He’s sort of breathless, and from where he stands, he can tell you are too. “That’s one of my favorite passages.”

“I can’t blame you for believing in soulmates if this is the kind of thing you read growing up,” he teases, handing the book back to you.

Though a part of him almost wishes he didn’t have to—so that it would still be a reason, a tether, pulling him back to you again and again.

Grinning, you take it, your eyes remaining trained on his. “I happen to notice it hasn’t changed your perspective on soulmates.”

“It’ll take more than a book.”

“This is, in my opinion, one of the best love stories ever written. How else will I convince you?”

“Why do you feel like you need to convince me?” He takes a step forward—you take a step back. “Why can’t it be the other way around? I might end up being the one who convinces you.”

“You could never,” you respond, clasping your hands behind your back. “It would be like convincing me the sky is green instead of blue.”

Logan retreats slightly. “Don’t you get tired?”

“Of what?”

“Of waiting. Of always being on the lookout.”

You don’t react badly to his question. You’re not even shaken, not fazed in the slightest. “When I meet him, I’ll know all the waiting was worth it.”

“And in the meantime?” Logan inquires, pressing himself further into your intimacy, edging closer as if testing the boundaries you’re willing to cross. His words are a subtle request for more, for answers. “What will you do until you find him?”

If you ever do, he thinks, but it’s left unsaid, lingering in his thoughts. He’s getting better at not saying the things that sit heavy in his chest without thinking.

“I think you misunderstand, Logan.” You study him through your lashes, and he feels he’s become the keeper of your most sacred secrets. “It’s not about waiting as if my life’s on pause. I’ve been with other people. But in the end, I want to choose him.”

That casual admission strikes him like a wave of cold water. A flicker of jealousy burns at the edges of his composure, though he tries to smother it.

I’ve been with other people, you say, your tone so nonchalant, and yet the mental images that flood his mind are anything but comfortable.

He imagines someone else standing in your kitchen. Perhaps in five minutes, there will be another man knocking on your door, here to discuss a book, and it won’t be him.

Perhaps this isn’t rare for you—all this come in, grab something to drink, let’s talk when you’re done reading.

Perhaps he’s not as important as you make him feel.

His thoughts spiral until your voice pulls him back from the brink.

“Don’t you understand how beautiful it is?” There’s a dazzling glint in your expression, a light in your eyes that makes him ache. “Outside of these four walls, there’s a person who’s waiting to meet me, in the same way I expect to meet him. I can’t grant myself the choice not to believe in something like this.”

Far from easing the martyr in his mind, this conversation only deepens his internal struggle. The questions overlap each other: what happens if you never find him? Would you ever consider settling for somebody else?

He rephrases that last one—would you ever consider being with him?

“He’s a lucky guy,” Logan murmurs, and just like that, he feels himself slipping deeper, falling into the rabbit hole with you guiding him through the madness.

For a moment, he can pretend—pretend that matching scars and bonds that defy the rules of his principles make sense.

Maybe, just for you, he’ll allow himself to believe it.

Your eyes soften with sudden emotion, glistening with the beginnings of tears. He feels the primal urge to reach out, to cup your cheek, to be there when the first tear falls. “You think so?” you ask, your voice fragile.

I sometimes have a queer feeling with regard to you, especially when you are near me, as now.

“Of course I do,” he replies, his tone quiet but laden with a strange, undeniable truth.

It is as if I had a string somewhere under my left ribs, tightly and inextricably knotted to a similar string situated in the corresponding quarter of your frame.

Whatever this is between you—it’s messed up. He’s messed up. And you… you’re just as tangled in this chaos for indulging it, for looking at him in that way that calls out to him.

The more time he spends with you, the less he feels like himself. Everything he’s done lately—reading that damn book, standing in your apartment at 7 a.m.—none of it feels like something he’d do.

It’s not just his mind you’re messing with: it’s his very sense of self.

Logan’s smart mouth had always been a liability, getting him into trouble either by saying too much or by choosing the wrong words. Bad things had always followed in the wake of his tongue.

Somehow, when it comes to you, he’s the most careful he’s ever been. He doesn’t want to upset you, nor does he want to be the cause of any sorrow that might affect your heart.

When the two of you stand at the threshold once more, just as you have other times before, you softly say: “I feel like I’m experiencing a déjà vu.”

He laughs, because it sounds ridiculous. “Care to explain why?”

“You come, we talk, you leave.” You lean against the wall, your hand ghosting over the handle. “But you never stay that long.”

There’s no mistaking the layered meaning in your words. You, who work with language and its peculiarities for a living, never speak by chance—every phrase, every pause, carries an assigned weight. The double meaning in your statement doesn’t escape either of you.

You’re a natural at this madness, diving headfirst into it. You must be losing it, too, because your actions don’t match what you said before.

Slowly, his fingers brush a loose strand of hair behind your ear, the perfect excuse to feel your skin, to close the distance without saying what he actually wants.

They say food and shelter are the basic human needs, but Logan chooses to believe they forgot to include the longing to reach out and just feel you.

“I can’t stay,” he finally responds to your earlier comment, his hand still lingering against your skin.

His strength—the only thing saving him from completely giving in—helps him pull himself away.

Before the impulse to kiss you becomes too overwhelming to resist, Logan leaves.

Some time later, you’re making lunch, music playing softly in the background at the same time the city’s distinct noise finds a way to break through your tranquility.

You rely greatly on the knowledge that you’re good at multitasking—now more than ever, with a book in one hand and the other stirring the pasta on the stove.

The warmth from the pot rises around you, but you trust yourself not to be careless. Not to be stupid enough to burn yourself with the boiling water.

This time, you miscalculate. Not only do you dip the wooden spoon into the pot, but your fingertips too.

Though it only lasts a second, and the voice in your head instantly screams Hot! Hot! Hot!, the shock makes you drop the book to the floor. You yank your hand back, racing to the sink to run it under cold water.

“Fuck,” you grumble, watching the skin redden in protest. “Lesson learned: no more multitasking.”

The funny thing is, just a door away, Logan’s watching a movie with Wade when he feels a sting in the tips of his fingers.

It’s barely there, practically faint, but he looks down, inspecting his hand like it doesn’t belong to his own body. His skin briefly flushes with irritation before returning to its normal state.

Wade notices his distraction. “Hey, you okay?”

Logan pays no mind to it. “Sure. Just felt something strange.”

Is it still called avoiding if you’re both doing it? You’d like to think so.

For the sake of clarity, let’s say you’ve been actively avoiding Logan, but truth be told—he’s been avoiding you too. That last encounter in your apartment didn’t help matters at all.

If anything, it made everything worse.

You’ve been down this road before, knowing men like him too well: they’re everywhere, until they’re not.

One day, they vanish without a trace, leaving you staring at the empty space they used to occupy, asking yourself ‘What happened to my Prince Charming in disguise?’

They disappear as though they never existed, and not even the best detective can track them down.

So far, your avoidance strategy has worked wonders. Maybe it’s for the best. He’s a distraction—an undeniably attractive one, the kind anyone would want to trip over.

Yet you miss him, which is dumb: why are you missing someone you were never supposed to care about in the first place?

You return home after a long trip to the grocery store, arms laden with bags. It’s the kind of errand that exhausts you, though you keep telling yourself it’s better than thinking about him.

As you struggle to get through the building's exit, you resign yourself to the fact that it’ll take several trips to bring everything up to your apartment.

Then the elevator doors slide open, and you drop everything to the floor.

You should’ve known better than to assume victory so soon. After days of successfully avoiding him, there he is.

And of course, it’s when you look your worst—tired from running around, weighed down by groceries, barely holding it together.

“Hey,” he greets you, standing just outside the elevator, like he’s not sure if he should step inside or stay where he is. He’s dressed in a red-and-black flannel shirt, layered over a white vest, a leather jacket tossed over his shoulders, and a pair of jeans that seem made for him.

He looks... ridiculously good.

“Hi,” you manage to answer after a beat, scrambling to collect the bags you’d dropped. “Just—give me a second.”

“Let me help you,” Logan says, ducking down to gather the groceries, but you pull them away.

“I’ve got it. Are you going out? On a date, maybe?” You nod toward his clothes, trying to keep things light, teasing even.

Glancing down at himself, a crease appears between his brows, and in one swoop, he gathers all the bags with a single hand. “I’m supposed to meet Wade at a bar, but he’ll survive without me.”

“Logan, you don’t—”

But he’s already moving, one hand tugging you out of the elevator, the other gesturing toward your apartment.

“Not up for debate,” he mutters. Then, without waiting for permission, he holds out his hand. “Keys.”

Sighing, you dig into your pocket and drop them into his open palm. He unlocks the door with practiced ease, stepping inside and placing the bags on your kitchen counter.

As he starts to unpack them, you stop him. “You really don’t need to do that.”

That seems to catch his attention. He pauses, turning toward you with his arms crossed over his chest, leaning against the counter.

His unrelenting stare sizes you up, and he cocks his head to the side. “Haven’t seen you in a while.”

He thinks he’s so discreet, so smooth. “Well, I’ve been busy,” you explain, fiddling with the frayed edge of your sweater, tugging at it like it might unravel your nerves.

You hear him click his tongue. “Been busy too.” His words hang in the air, thickening the atmosphere. Your body tenses, and you stare at his shoes, until— “Sweetheart,” he calls you softly, and your eyes snap shut for a moment, your chin almost pressing against your chest. “My eyes are up here.”

A quick flutter of your lashes brings you back to him, and your chest tightens with the effort it takes to look into his eyes. “Don’t you have somewhere to be?” you ask, praying he’ll let this go.

You watch as his mouth twitches with something halfway between a smile and a smirk. “You already want me to leave?”

“If you have plans, then yeah.”

He huffs out a laugh, inhaling a shallow breath like you’ve missed something obvious. “Wade can wait. He’ll be fine.” His expression shifts, and the playful tone in his voice falls away, replaced by something more raw. “You’ve been avoiding me.”

You can’t help but snort. “Oh, please. Like you haven’t been doing the same.” You walk over to the couch, feeling your legs wobble beneath you. You collapse into one corner, hoping the distance will help you breathe.

Like a shadow, Logan follows after you, sitting far too close. His legs splay wide, so wide they’re almost grazing yours.

“At least I have a reason for it. What about you?” His hand reaches out, fingers closing around yours in a grip that’s both firm and gentle, enhancing your anxiety. Your throat tightens, the room shrinking around you. “I need you to tell me I’m not crazy,” he says, his voice rough and low. “I need you to tell me you feel it too.”

Panic flares in your chest, and you scramble for time. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you mutter, but your voice cracks, the uncertainty leaking through the cracks in your bravado.

He doesn’t buy your acting. “You do. We can’t keep playing dumb. You’re gonna make me lose my fuckin’ mind one of these days.”

It’s not just his words—it’s the way he stands so close, heat radiating from his body, the roughness of his hand gripping yours like he’s terrified you’ll slip away.

The intensity of it all weighs on you in ways you can’t even begin to describe, leaving you breathless, caught between denial and desire.

“Logan, this isn’t—”

“What? Okay?” There’s a glimpse of mirthlessness in his tone as he speaks, his forehead furrowing. “I can’t stay away from you, don’t you see it? It feels too good to be wrong,” he utters, inching forward. You know you should take a step back, tell him to stop. Nothing good can come from this. “It takes two to feel these things. It can’t be just me.”

“That doesn’t mean we have to give in.” Blood pounds in your ears, your pulse racing as your heart hammers unpleasantly. Little shivers of ice run through your spine, and yet, your stomach burns with desire.

More than ever, you feel yourself slipping, your sanity at risk.

Logan runs his eyes up and down your face, agitated, almost going cross-eyed. “Earlier you asked if I was going on a date. Would you like that? Me being with other people? Kissing another woman?” His hot breath caresses your cheek, and you avert your gaze momentarily. “Answer me.”

Don’t do it. For the love of God, don’t. “I can’t—I don’t—”

“Come on, baby.”

“I don’t want you to be with other people,” you mumble, your lips almost grazing his, and that’s all he needs to grip your chin and pull you into a kiss.

His mouth moves hungrily over yours, pushing you back until the armrest digs into your lower back. A choked whimper gets lost in your throat, and you bring him closer by grabbing onto the lapels of his jacket, your chest pressing against his.

Logan bites down on your lip, soothing the sting with his tongue, and the moan you let out reverberates in the apartment.

“This is what you were hiding from me?” he rasps, his forehead bumping against yours. “These sweet sounds you make?”

You end up perched in his lap, your thighs bracketing his hips. He’s hard beneath you, and as you shift, your center makes contact with his erection through the layers of fabric.

Both of you sigh into each other’s mouths, your hips moving on their own accord, rocking slightly against his clothed cock. He hooks one of his arms around your waist, guiding your movements.

Everything seems to fall into place. Outside your window, birds chirp. The world feels lighter, like a better place. The beast inside you quiets, and for once, your mind is blissfully blank.

Logic? Error 404—not found.

You tug at his hair, and Logan growls, breaking the kiss. “Do that again.” He jerks under your touch, bucking up into you. Encouraged, you pull his hair again, fingers wrapping around a strand at the nape of his neck, and you’re rewarded with a deep groan.

He’s dizzy for it, but you’re no better, not when he trails his kisses down your neck, his mouth latching onto your skin, tasting the sweat and salt.

“I can’t control myself around you,” he murmurs, groping your tits, and you wail, the ache between your legs becoming intolerable. His hands slip under your sweater, caressing the scars on your back.

That’s when recognition settles over you.

What are you doing? And why are you doing it?

He ceases sucking your flesh when you go rigid on top of him. Pecking your lips once again, Logan’s hands cradle your face, his thumbs rubbing circles on your cheeks. “What’s wrong?”

You don’t understand how he does it, how he can remain so calm. Doesn’t he realize the gravity of this? “We have to stop.”

“Why?”

“Don’t ask me something you already know the answer to.”

His arms drop to his sides, releasing you from his hold. You push yourself off him, away from the couch, putting as much distance between you as you can.

Pressing your palms to your eyes, you shake your head. “God, I’m stupid. This is stupid.”

Your reaction seems to get on his nerves, his frustration somehow increasing. Logan stands, towering over you. “Was it stupid when you were dry humping me?”

“Fuck you, Logan.”

“I’m not the bad guy here. You kissed me back.” He doesn’t let up, trailing behind you as you try to escape. “You want me as much as I want you.”

“Will you stop saying that?” you bark, throwing your arms in the air. Your chest rises and falls with rapid breaths. “Yeah, we like each other. So? Does that make it right? How can you just ignore how wrong this is?”

His expression hardens, anger flashing in his eyes. “Forget your idea of what's good and bad. You're just upset you can't control what you feel.”

“He’s closer than ever.”

Logan gawks at you, his voice bitter as he goes on with his rambling. “That fucker again? Don’t you ever get tired of talking about someone who you don’t even know? Because you’re certainly wearing me out.”

“You wish you were him, don’t you?” You jab your finger into his chest, feeling his heartbeat, a flutter you choose to ignore. “You want to be my soulmate.”

“Damn right I do,” he practically spits his words, narrowing his eyes at you. “But I’m not him.”

“No. You’re not.”

Everything seems to fall out of place. Outside your window, birds don’t chirp—they scream for mercy. The world doesn’t feel lighter, but heavier. The beast inside you roars back to life, restless and louder than ever, while your mind spins in chaos.

“We shouldn’t see each other anymore.” Your voice pierces through the thick silence in the room, and you swallow down the lump forming in your throat.

“If that’s what you want,” he replies, his jaw clenched tight, irritation radiating off him in waves.

“It’s what we both need.”

“Speak for yourself. I don’t have a soulmate.” His tone is biting, but you don’t miss the undercurrent of longing in his words. “But if in any other universe I do, I hope it’s you.”

Your hand turns the knob, and then he’s halfway out the door, sparing you one last glance before he turns his back to you.

No more visits. No more books. No more bruising kisses that leave you questioning your mere existence.

Let things stay as they are—it’s safer that way. You don’t want to know the reason behind this forceful need.

After all, being his grumpy and ill-tempered self, he’ll stay holed up in Wade’s apartment, avoiding any interaction with the real world. And you? You’ll forget about him. Easy-peasy.

It didn’t go well in the end.

You remember your first heartbreak—seventeen, fresh out of high school. One of your hands clutched a million dreams, and the other, a pillow soaked with your tears.

Your mother remained by your side, caressing your back, attempting to soothe the sobs that racked your body. She murmured that it’d pass, that you wouldn’t feel like this forever. You believed her then, and trusted that things would eventually be okay.

Almost ten years later, another heartbreak shouldn’t come as a surprise. By now, you thought you would’ve developed the tools to survive it. You should be able to piece yourself back together by instinct.

But life, as it turns out, has a peculiar way of catching you off guard.

Whether it’s pent-up horniness, touch-starvation, or genuine affection—it doesn't change the fact that your pseudo-relationship with Logan fell apart.

Though you’re not the one who’s suffering the most. Neither is Logan.

Wade, the third party in this tangled mess, has somehow taken it the hardest.

“I feel like a child of divorce,” he says, his head resting on your lap, eyes distant as they fixate on the peeling wallpaper. “You need to do something about that.”

“I’ll take care of it next month.”

He’s supposed to be the one supporting you, but it feels like the roles are reversed—you’re comforting him, letting him vent.

“My two favorite people now can’t even be in the same room. What are we gonna do for Christmas? New Year's Eve?” Straightening up, he grabs the nearest cushion and buries his face into it to muffle a defeated scream. “Damn it, Cupid! You had one job!”

All in all, Wade’s emotionally unavailable at the moment, grieving your separation from Logan as if it were his own loss, too caught up in his melodrama to be of any real help.

Meanwhile, you fill your days with work, books, anything to keep your mind occupied.

You go to bed too late, you wake up too early. Sleep too little, cry too much.

One thing stays constant—you and Logan don’t talk. Stolen glances in the hallway, awkward elevator rides—those are the only remnants of whatever you once were. Back to being strangers again. 

Well, not really. Strangers don’t know the route to your mouth the way he does.

The ache lingers every day. Missing him when you’re awake is a common occurrence. At night, as you toss and turn beneath the sheets, he stars in your dreams. You can’t recall the last time he wasn’t lodged in your thoughts. 

Where there used to be ideas, creativity, and plots worth scribbling down, there’s now only Logan—a man destined to problematize your stay on earth.

That fucker again? Don’t you ever get tired of talking about someone who you don’t even know? Because you’re certainly wearing me out.

And yet, despite all of it, you continue to prioritize someone else. Someone who isn’t even here. Clung to the idea of a soulmate, you chose him over Logan.

What did he expect? For you to abandon your principles, your belief in destiny? It’s who you are. Nearly thirty years of life guided by one belief can’t just be discarded like trash.

You liked to separate things into categories: good and bad, right and wrong. A simple method to structure everything, to make sense of your world, and it has worked most of the time.

But now? The limits of those sacred categories look blurred. Your judgment feels unreliable, and you wonder if the choices you’ve made lately have been the correct ones.

Each of your decisions seems to be leading you further down a path you can’t recognize. 

What’s the goal? Finding your soulmate, the voice in your head mockingly answers for the hundredth time, rolling its imaginary eyes. And where is he?

You’ve shut Logan out, a man who’s made it clear he has feelings for you, for this elusive person. Isn’t it time he steps into the light at long last?

This is what you fear the most: loneliness.

You don’t want to be the lone woman who sits by herself in a cafe, drawing pity from waitresses who discuss her solitude. By no means do you wish to be that friend who dispenses wise dating advice, but goes home to an empty bed. You refuse to become the godmother whose hand no one holds when her time comes.

No, this can’t be all fate has to offer to you. There must be more. If your life were a book, you’d be flipping through the pages to the last chapter, desperate to see how it ends.

Or, better yet, you’d grab a pen and rewrite it yourself. What kind of ending you’ll have—you’re not so sure about that.

It’s Sunday, one of those endless weekends where the only way to survive is by rearranging your entire apartment. You could manage it alone, but help would be nice—Wade’s help, to be more precise, would be perfect for this kind of task, and you find yourself knocking on his door. 

No answer. Deciding to dial his number to see if he’s fallen asleep, you try calling him, waiting through the rings until he finally picks up. “Hey.”

Except it’s not Wade’s voice that answers. “I’m sorry, who is this?”

The door swings open, and Logan appears right behind it, holding Wade’s phone to his ear.

He narrows his eyes, leaning against the frame, a single eyebrow lifted in curiosity. “How sad. You don’t remember what I sound like.”

You feel foolish for still being on the call, so you lock your phone, ending it. “Where’s Wade?” you ask, frowning as you hold your breath, your voice sharper than intended.

“Out and about. Didn’t tell me where he was going,” Logan replies, glaring at you as he raises the phone to your face. “He left without this.”

Abort mission! Nodding in agreement, you begin to step back. “Great, I’ll look for him later.”

You’re close to being locked up once again in the safety of your apartment when you hear him: “You need anything?”

It’s the most he’s said to you in weeks. You hesitate, keeping your back turned. “I’m moving some heavy stuff around. Thought I could use the help.”

“I could do it.”

No. Not really. He’s doing that thing again—offering help when you know you shouldn’t accept it. You shake your head.

“It’s not necessary,” you say, forcing a casual tone.

“Doesn’t have to mean anything,” he retorts, his footsteps heavy and deliberate as they draw closer. With each passing second, your options shrink, leaving you no room for retreat. “Don’t worry. I won’t try to kiss you again if that’s what’s got you all worked up.”

“I’m not worked up,” you hiss, and he sidesteps you easily, his arm nudging yours.

The electricity is still there, undeniable, but neither of you has the courage to acknowledge it, acting as though it’s an ordinary occurrence.

His eyes roam the room, like he’s forgotten what your apartment looked like. He pauses by the bookshelf, his fingers gliding over the spine of Jane Eyre, and a low whistle escapes him as he slips it back into place. 

You, frozen at the threshold, feel your irritation simmering just beneath the surface, and the urge to hide in your bedroom only becomes stronger.

After this, you’ll have to burn your favorite book. What a pity.

“What do you want me to do?” he asks, hooking his fingers into the loops of his jeans, his posture both confident and annoyingly relaxed.

There’s a challenge in his tone, and he acts as if you’re the one who pulled him into this situation—like he didn’t worm his way in here.

You gesture toward the couch. “Can you put it by the window?”

He sets to work, moving the smaller pieces of furniture aside to make space for the couch. Under no circumstances are you going to just stand there and watch him sweat.

Instead, you busy yourself with the long-forgotten glasses and cups gathering dust in one of the kitchen cabinets, each one glinting with past disappointments.

Wetting a towel, you start by wiping the rims. The air feels heavily charged with uneasiness, but you're relieved that for once, you can breathe without feeling like you’re on the brink of a heart attack.

You can already imagine Wade’s face when you tell him—

“So,” Logan’s voice cuts through the silence, startling you, “how’s the search going? Got any luck?”

His words have the desired effect on you, and the glass slips from your grasp, shattering against the floor in a crash that mirrors the jump of your heart. You curse under your breath, stepping back from the mess, taking in the shards sprawled around your shoes.

“Be careful,” he says from the other side of the room, still dragging the furniture into place, and you scrutinize him over your shoulder, your brows knitted.

“I don’t need your advice,” you murmur through gritted teeth as you crouch to pick up the larger shards. His attention returns to the couch, but you guess he’s not technically thinking how nice of a person you are.

As you kneel, your hands tremble slightly, and you wonder when that started. You fumble for a larger shard of glass, bracing your hand against the floor for balance, unaware of the smaller piece lying dangerously close to your fingers.

The sting comes fast, slicing through the skin of your pinky. You flinch, raising your hand, and Logan, hearing the faint wince, abandons his task and crosses the room to you.

"I don’t need your advice," he echoes, mocking your tone as he squats beside you, his hand closing around yours to inspect the wound. "You’re bleeding."

“Brilliant observation, Sherlock. I hadn’t noticed—” The words die in your throat, your eyes widening as you take a closer look at his hand. “Wait, why are you bleeding?”

He snorts, diverting his attention to his own hand. “What do you mean I’m—” Whatever it is he intended to shoot back remains unsaid as both of you stare down at the small cut in his pinky.

Driven by instinct, you place your hands side by side, your finger grazing his. The cuts are identical: same place, same width, same depth. The only difference is his vanishes within seconds, leaving only a few droplets of crimson blood as evidence.

Logan couldn’t have cut himself. He was nowhere near the glass. “Are you…?” You swallow thickly, trying to string together a coherent thought, dizziness making its triumphant appearance. “Are you thinking what I’m thinking?”

“Yes.”

“And what is that—”

“I need a drink.”

“Can you stop acting like a dick for one second?” You peer into his glossy eyes, watching him try to avoid your gaze, though he can’t seem to resist. “Please, Logan. Look at me.”

When he does, his mouth parts as if to speak, then closes again. “I don’t understand. I thought I didn’t have a soulmate.” His gruff tone slows even further, like he's straining to push the words from his lungs. “I thought—I thought I was alone.”

It explains so much: how your scars had reappeared once he and Wade returned from The Void. 

The instant attraction, the yearning to be near him.

The dread that washed over you each time he walked away.

The dreams that plagued your nights, and the tightness in your chest these past few weeks that made you wonder if you could ever coexist in the same space as him without breaking apart.

All those times you felt he was getting closer weren’t just a figment of your imagination—he was, in fact, right there.

But he wasn’t just anyone—it was him. Logan is your soulmate. You two are meant to be together. How long would it take for you to truly believe it? Until it no longer sounded like something too good to be true?

Without uttering a sound, Logan gazes at you, silently pleading to see them. To see your scars. You extend your arm, and with a gentle motion, he rolls up the sleeve of your shirt, revealing the marks etched into your skin.

He runs his fingers along the lines, trying to understand the bond you now share—both his and yours.

In a sense, you’re his. You carry his scars, the physical manifestation of the life he has lived. Even though he may not bear any of his own, you do, and that’s more than enough.

He belongs to you just as much as you belong to him.

“There are more,” you tell him. your voice barely above a whisper. He stands, offering you his hand, and you take it, rising to your feet. Logan inches closer, his mouth hovering just above yours, his large hand coming up to cup your cheek.

The look he gives you is one reserved for those he loves, a look filled with such warmth and affection that it almost feels dreamlike.

“Do you want me to see them?” he inquires, and all he needs is a nod from you to gently tug your shirt up your chest and over your head.

He lets out a dry chuckle when you attempt to tame your hair, the effort proving to be in vain. The clock on the wall seems to pause its ticking the moment his fingers begin to trail each of the scars that captures his gaze.

You can’t even begin to fathom what thoughts might be swirling in his mind, but if the flicker of lust and desire you catch in his expression is anything to go by, you’re not so worried.

Logan’s touch carries an unexpected softness, a tenderness you never imagined a man like him could possess.

Deep down, you wish he understood that these scars don’t hurt, that they never have. “I’m okay,” you reassure him, prompting him to explore more of your skin, to claim you as his.

“Do you… like them?” he asks without meeting your eyes.

Do you like my scars? is the real question hidden underneath.

Do you like me? is the one he can’t bring himself to pronounce.

“They’re yours. I could never not like them.” 

Before you stands a man you once believed was meant to be your burden, your trial. Logan had been the earthquake sent to test your endurance, to see how much you could withstand before surrendering and waving the white flag.

The same fingers that once imprinted his mark on you now linger on the strap of your bra, waiting for you to decide whether to let him go further or stop.

Desire has a limit before it overwhelms. There’s only so much need a person can contain before it spills over, uncontrollable and raw.

This game, one you never learned how to play, feels as foreign to him as it does to you—neither of you knows the rules.

“Can I see more?” He’s still talking about the scars, still fumbling with the strap, and you nod, your eyelids growing droopier as you take his free hand and direct it to the front of your jeans.

He catches the hint, undoing the button with ease, allowing you to shed the last layers of restraint.

Bare, moments away from being completely naked, standing in stark contrast to Logan, who remains fully clothed, your stomach does a flip as he rubs his thumb along the sides of your underwear.

Leaning your forehead against his shoulder, you stifle a sigh when he splays his hand across your lower back, pulling you closer.

His rough grip tightens on your ass, testing the feel of you, while your breathing becomes shallow, erratic.

“What is it, honey?” He slides his fingers your stomach, just below your belly button, brushing a small scar in there. “Want me to touch you?”

“Yes,” you croak, the plea slipping out involuntarily, throwing your arms around his neck. He buries his face against your jaw, his lips parting against your skin, trailing open-mouthed kisses along the curve of your neck.

You tilt your head back, exposing more of your throat to him, breathless as you whisper: “I’ve waited so long.”

He moves toward the couch, and you follow, trying to anticipate what he’s got planned for you. “I know, baby. I know. You’ve waited long enough.” Guiding your body down, he has you lying horizontally on the sofa. He unhooks your bra, kneading your breasts with both hands, eliciting a ragged gasp from you. “But I’m here now. You don’t have to wait any longer,” he huffs by your ear, rolling your nipples between his fingers, his breath mingling with yours, each exhale warm and inviting. “Gonna let me make you feel good? Show you how much I’ve been thinkin’ about you?”

Instead of answering with real words, you surge forward, crashing your lips against with his, reveling in the way he cages you with his biceps, locking you up in a prison of desire from which you never wish to break free. He tries not to settle his full weight on top of you, attentive not to crush you.

As he nips at the column of your throat, you squirm beneath him, canting your hips up to seek the friction you crave.

He presses his knee against your center and you push back, grinding against him with an animalistic urgency.

You can’t recall ever feeling this desperate, this overwhelmed by a man. But then again, he’s unlike any other you’ve encountered in your array of momentary hookups.

His kisses grow even more insistent as breathy moans roll off to your tongue, merging with the occasional creak of the couch beneath your movements.

Logan spreads your thighs wider, sinking to his knees on the floor to tug your lower half forward until your ass is almost hanging in the air. He places your thighs on his shoulders, supporting you as he leans in to pepper your soft flesh with kisses.

One can be certain that he’s marking your inner thighs with a hickey or two, the scratch of his beard feeling magnificent against your sensitive skin, and you can hardly bring yourself to think about the potential burn he’ll leave behind. Logan inhales your scent, the tip of his nose dangerously close to your cunt, and you tangle a hand in his hair as he continues to test your patience.

“Eager?” he wonders aloud, looking at you through his lashes. While maintaining eye contact, he presses a kiss to your clit through the fabric of your panties.

He does it again, and you bite your lip hard enough to draw blood, his fingers deftly pulling your underwear down your legs.

The first drag of his tongue along your folds has you scrunching your eyebrows in pleasure, tightening your grip on his hair. Logan moans against you, the sound muffled as he dips the tip of his tongue into your entrance, lapping at your arousal with an insatiable hunger.

The way you purr his name—a soft caress, a pat on his back that says Yeah, you’re doing fine—only spurs him on, infusing every one of his ministrations with fervor.

His longing for you radiates in the intensity of his touch, sending shivers through you, making you writhe because of his hands alone.

Your core throbs. Your skin prickles with electricity. Your legs quake on either side of his face. He’s hungry and you’re his feast. He’s parched and you’re the last bottle of water in an arid world.

Logan eats you out like this will be the only time he’ll have the privilege—each movement calculated, pushing all the right buttons, pulling out every trick he knows to make you think No, it doesn’t get any better than this. This is as much as one can get.

Then his fingers join the symphony of pleasure, pumping in and out of you as he keeps flicking your clit with expert precision, and your back arches from the couch, following his pace with your hips. He pushes back, you push forward—he pushes forward, you push back.

Who is enjoying this more: him or you?

His pointed tongue teases your bud, matched with the persistent hammering of his fingers plunged into your wet heat. The combination has you coming on his mouth, falling over the precipice while you struggle to keep yourself together.

Your walls flutter around his digits, and your cries fuse with his groans, both overshadowed by his insatiable desire to savor until the last drop of your release.

Shockwaves ripple through your body and you prop your weight on your arms to capture his lips in a fervent kiss, your eyes rolling rolling back in ecstasy as you taste yourself, a mix of sour and sweet.

In a frenzy, he sheds his clothes, practically tearing them away, and you wrap your hand around his length, stroking him in time with your kisses. Logan pulls back, panting against you, and you steal a glance at him.

Your gaze travels down to his hard cock, the tip a furious red, and he seizes your wrist.

“Why don’t you kiss it better?” he rasps, his voice dropping an octave. In this moment, you’re taken aback by his beauty, and the urge to express it rises within you.

“You’re so beautiful,” you murmur against his thigh, showering his skin with heated kisses. You stare in disbelief at the trail of hair leading to his girth, mouth watering at the sight.

A kiss on the tip, followed by a broad lick along a prominent vein—Logan’s grip on the armrest tightens, his knuckles turning white. “So perfect.”

“Shut up,” he retorts breathlessly, but you revel in the strangled noise that escapes him as you take him deeper, his head disappearing between your lips. His palm rests on your nape, anchoring you in place. “Goddammit. The fuckin’—mouth you have on you.”

You try to take him in further once you’re feeling more confident, while Logan fights with all his might against the need to thrust his hips up into your warmth. He can’t stay still, grunting and smothering you with lavish praise that heightens your arousal, slick pouring out of you in waves.

“Pretty thing you are. Don’t even know how to function around you. You got me all—fuck, actin’ all stupid.”

At one point, he tells you to stop, because he doesn’t want to come just yet. You know what comes next as he rubs his cock along your folds, blending your wetness with his precum.

It’s sloppy, and dirty, and messy—and God, do you love it.

He sinks into you and the world collides in a way you never expected. Everything you thought you knew falls apart, leaving you stranded in unfamiliar territory.

You can’t comprehend how you’ve spent so many years without him. Without this.

Your lips find his, and he swallows every sound he punches out of your lungs. His thrusts grow harder and faster as you adjust to his size, how big he feels inside you.

He digs his fingers into the globes of your ass, yanking you towards his shaft every time he fucks into you. You feel the brush of his balls against your skin, the way his muscles flex beneath your touch.

To this day, it’s still hard for you to wrap your head around the fact that love is what humans both strive and die for.

You come to understand it fully as his eyes flicker to yours, checking for any signs of discomfort in your features.

You understand why people write books and songs about love when he breathes your name in the shell of your ear, chanting how good you’re taking him, how tight and wet you are for him.

You understand the place love occupies in your life as the sound of your bodies slapping together creates a melody which has never been played before.

You understand why you’ve searched for this your entire life, lifting every carpet in hopes of uncovering the love you’ve pined for.

In the past, it had always felt like a race—finding your soulmate before the clock struck twelve. Now that you have him, you wonder what the future holds for you, how this connection will evolve.

For now, you can allow yourself the possibility of relishing the drag of his cock in your interior. His pace doesn’t falter for a second—something about mutants and their non-stop stamina, no doubt. He shoves a hand between your sweaty bodies, rubbing circles on your already swollen bud.

Each time he fills you to the brim, you have to ground yourself, resisting the pull of an altered reality.

“So full,” you blurt out, mewling with a specially hard thrust, a chocked sob lodged in your throat. “Please, stay.”

It could mean many things: Please, keep fucking me. Please, don’t leave after this. Please, remain by my side form this moment onward, because I don’t know how to go on with my life now that I’ve experienced this closeness.

Whatever meaning he ascribes to your words is of little importance. He tightens his arms around you, kissing you deeply, tongue and teeth clashing as they compete to see who wins the battle. “Never. I’m never lettin’ you go, y’hear me?”

Heat pools in your lower back, a coiling tension radiating through your limbs. “You’re mine, princess. Can’t afford to lose you now that I found you. Gonna remind you every day.”

His rambling pushes you over the edge, your dripping cunt spasming around him as you reach your climax, moaning his name against his shoulder. You cling to him, convulsing beneath his body, and he grinds his hips into yours, his chest rumbling as he growls.

“Inside,” you mumble, extending your hand to press it to his waist. “Need you inside me. Please, I want it so bad.”

Logan stutters against you, his forehead falling against your collarbone as he finishes with one powerful thrust, his cock pulsing warm ropes of come within your cunt. You clench around him, whining as he prolongs both your pleasure and his, milking the last drop of his seed. His voice is a constant murmur, filling every space in the room until he slumps against you.

Night has fallen. The cut on your pinky no longer stings. Your scars, after all, are still there, nestled against Logan’s unmarked skin. You caress his back, sighing contentedly as a wave of peace washes over you.

You’ve never felt this relaxed.

Logan grasps your chin and tilts it up, a subtle smirk tugging at his lips. “Hey,” he mutters, his gaze roaming all over your face.

You cup his cheek, his rough stubble grazing your palm. “Hey, stranger. Long time no see.”

A genuine laugh pierces through the silence. the kind he rarely allows himself. Crinkles form at the corners of his eyes, his brow furrowing as he glances at you with love.

Love—hadn’t you pondered its existence for so long? Your fuel for living, the muse behind your best poems, a recurring motif in your fantasies.

Love now has Logan’s name written in ink, no longer a blank canvas awaiting its unknown owner. No—it’s all his now.

You’d do it all over again if it meant ending up like this, tangled and intertwined, with the promise of a future together. He has many stories to share—about his past universe, about himself. You have secrets to unveil, too. There’s so much you both have yet to discover about each other.

But time isn’t up. This isn’t a race, you remind yourself: things are just getting started.

Everywhere you go, every place you attempt to set foot in, there it is. Love is dressed up in an expensive silk robe, a ribbon tied neatly on top of it. You reach closer, trying to unravel it, though it's pointless. The moment love sees you—truly sees your longing for it—it flees, and you struggle to keep up. Love runs faster than anyone, hiding within the bushes, counting the seconds until its next appearance.

Finally, you’ve wrapped love around your finger.

dividers by: @cafekitsune thank you!!! <3

[deformedcat]

the fake princess

pairing: reincarnated male reader x yandere prince oc

fic includes: arranged marriage, cross dressing, reader's death (briefly mentioned), Dom to sub bottom male reader, rough sex, rimming 2x, gruwhdbwb will add more in the morning

note: THIS IS NOT FINISHED!! tumblr is rlly messing me up by posting my work earlier whenever i save my draft lol. feel free to read as i write the ending. reader is male! a male!! a certain character will be calling him "lady" for the plot!! i wont spoil much but please keep that in mind ;; this is messy lmao

poor you were just on the way back to your apartment after a barbeque party with your friends— until a drunk man grabbed you from the dark alley way and stabbed you in the stomach and pussied out after he realized what he did.

is this how you die? fuck, he couldve do you a favour by taking you out in one go and not run away?? loser behaviour.

you laid down in your own blood in the dimly lit alley way, your vision slowly getting blurry as your surrounding turns into a blur of colours and into nothing.

before slipping into darkness, you heard a loud voice shouting out your name. its too late, bootlicking shitfuck.

you opened your eyes by the sound of bird chipping, you stared up at the bright blue sky accompanied by someone with dark brown hair and green eyes staring back at you.

"Lady Amador.. it's time to go back to the palace. the prince is looking foward for you during lunch time."

who the fuck is lady amador, and why are they wearing a maid outfit?

sitting up, you take note of the grass underneath you instead of the rough concrete floor from earlier- are you hallucinating to the point youre in this nice garden..? huh, why are you wearing a dress, did a creep kidnapped you and dress you in one of their grandma's dresses?!

panicking, you got up towards the pond and looked into your own reflection. you still looked the same as before, you cant say the same since your hair looked much longer and the light makeup on your face.

lady amador.. prince?? garden.. holy- is that a palace behind you?! whats going on?!

before you could brainstorm any longer, the person from earlier waved their hand in front of you, catching your attention. "lady amador, its time to go. prince sebastian is looking for you."

prince sebastian? sebastian..

slowly, everything clicked to you, did you really reincarnated as one of the characters in the novel "The Villainess's Ultimate Plan!" holy shit.

you touched your face, and then looked into the pond again, that face..

the villainess younger brother?!

the one who disguised as the protagonist.. the one that planned the entire scheme to assassinate the crown prince but end up getting beheaded one day after the wedding night?!

with that information, your vision fade into black once again.

"My lady?!"

jerking awake, you hunched over, clasping a hand against your face. you slowly takes a few deep breathe, you slowly brought your hand away.

you looked to your side, the same person from earlier is standing next to you with a worried expression. not only them, a man with bright gold hair is sitting on a chair nearby reading a book.

prince fucking sebastian. the man that you're supposed to kill during you and the prince's wedding night.

he looked up from his book and walked up to you, you flinched away when he raised his hand, he stopped his action before he promptly caressing your face.

"you, please step out of Lady Penelope's room." he ordered the person (the maid maybe?), and they complied.

there was an awkward silence in the room, he was still holding your face, you looked at the side, scared to hold any eye contact with the man in front of you.

"look at me." he said in a stern voice, like a mom scolding her child.

so you did, afraid of any consequences. (since he was the same man that's willing to destroy the kingdom for your supposed sister.)

he let go of your face before sitting onto the side of the bed, his face is blank,, as if he dont care about you, but the worried tone in his voice said otherwise.

"y/n." you jumped at the name, how did he know your name- wasnt he supposed to call you by your sister's name ?! before you can say amything, he cut you off.

"..i was waiting for you at the dining table, but i got the news of you fainting in the garden right after waking up from your nap."

"..i apologize."

he leans in towards you, settling his hands onto your face once again as if to inspect for any injuries, he lets go once again when he saw no visible injuries.

"i know you prefer to be called lady amador when it comes to appearing as your sister, but a maid was here, and i have to convince people we have a medium love with each other.

especially when our wedding night is two days from now on."

what. the story already started?! no- screw that, how did he know you were pretending to be penelope?!

"how did you know im not lady penelope?" you kissed your teeth, gripping onto the comforter, subtly slapping the prince's hand away when he tried to reach for yours.

"lady penelope had sent a letter to me, personally stating about her plan, and we agreed on one term: i keep you safe and she sends me information of the war, simple.

though, i shall say, youre quite the beauty."

you were about to curse at penelope but your ears becoming warm after he said that, he chuckled before getting up of the bed.

"most married or engaged couples have monthly night together, and ours is two night from now on. we wont do anything sensual, do not worry."

"what-"

"see you tomorrow at lunch, dear." he kissed you on the forehead before walking out of your room.

for the next two days, you learnt the person at the garden is your personal maid, Andrea. apparently she found you laying on the ground at the garden (that sebastian built for you.) after you stated you were gonna take a stroll.

you also met your personal knight, William, Penelope's second love interest but was sadly killed when he defended you during your trail.

the three of you got along well, often seen having conversation near the garden or having tea party together. sebastian watched from his office and smiled at the sight of you chatting with Andrea.

william on the other hand,, have been too close to you for his liking. he nearly ripped an important paper when he saw william wiping off some biscuit crumbs from your face- why is he so touchy? Andrea couldve done that using a napkin.

he broke his pen, the black ink soaked his hand and his paper work. did you like damian better than him? why did you become flustered when the knight spoke about something?

should he get rid of him?

how troublesome.

he remembered when a butler and notify him what happened to you. he nearly tear down the entire palace when you didnt wake up for two hours he almost frown when you flinched and move away from him when he reach out to you. the way you were nervous around him,,

he slowly calmed down, reminding himself that you and his night together is tonight. he sighed, he should finish his work first then meet you tonight.

back in your chamber, Andrea and a few other maids helped you to get ready, even helping you to take a bath. you enjoyed the smell of lavender from the soapy water, an old maid massaged your body when you're just soaking inside the bathtub.

the old lady was kind enough to even offer you a drink as she tells you stories of her youth.

after that and when Andrea deemed you 'clean', began to dress you into a white night gown made with the finest silk, the strap of the grown barely hanging on your shoulder. the maid had explained that you have to wear this because 'the prince gave the gown as a gift.'

was he not shameless when his gift includes a set of lingerie?!

you fidget around with the ring, Andrea styled your hair into a loose braid, making sure you look presentable before leading you to the prince's chamber. you insisted that you walked by yourself, so she went back to the maid headquarter.

walking down the dimly lit hallway, no one is wandering except for a few knight patrolling. you soon arrived in front of his room, knocking a few time to make your presence known "sir sebastian-"

before you could finish, sebastian opened the door and grab you by the waist, dragging you into the room.

he lifts you up and carries you to the spacious bed, he gently laid you down and take a whiff of your scent before mumbled out a "you smells nice.."

you looked at him with wide eyes, he was only wearing a robe- your eyes wonders down and sees his toned body that he had clearly worked on. he noticed you and grinned, taking your hand and putting it on his chest

"like what you see?"

if you could kill him right now you would.

instead, you pushed him down the bed, him lying down on the bed and you on top.

"what if i do?

also.. i will be the one in charge tonight."

you leaned down, opening his robe hastily and take one nipple into your lips.

sebastian nearly flipped you over, but he held himself back. he moaned when you grinned onto his crotch, he lightly tugged your hair, leaning in as if asking for a kiss.

you gave him what he wanted, he softly moaned into the kiss, slowly his hand make its way towards your shorts, pulling it down your ankle before he pulls away from the kiss.

he sat up against the bed frame and settled you on his lap, he took in the sight of you wearing his gift- that he had commissioned for it to fit you, and god.

you are so pretty.

hair messy from the kissing session, the collar of the gown was low enough for him to see the lacey bra, a garter designed with silver lining tightly wrapped around your thigh and the underwear that only covered your erected cock-

he want to eat you up,,

so he did.

Sebastian was known to be a beast in bed as he was known in the battlefield,, was what the novel described him.

Unfortunately they were true to their words, his thrust was harsh and deep, creating impacts thats enough to make you cry out.

so much of being gentle?! he even ripped off your outfit, leaving you naked!

he was nice enough to eat you out earlier, even giving you to opportunity to ride his face.

sebastian continue with this harsh pace, holding one of your leg onto his shoulder while another holds your hand. his apologized multiple times while grunting, saying things likes

"im sorry- ah! youre so tight!"

"mm- if you keep moaning like that- hng! i wont be able to slow down-"

"dear.. mmh.. im sorry.. i'll take care of you later-!" im gonna kill you, you handsome bastard!!

you clung onto him on each thrust, it just feel so-! sebastian suddenly changed the position, pushing you on your knees while holding your arms at the back,

"se-sebasti- ah! wait-! mngh!" he holds your hand behind you back tightly to ground you, the position didnt help at all, you couldnt muffle your moans and his dick reach deeper than it did in the previous position.

he panted, letting go of your arms fearing that your arm is sore. he gave an apologetic kiss on your forehead before continuing .

he grunted when you tighten around him, he tried to sooth you by giving stroking your cock, but that only add to the pleasure as you cried out of overstimulation.

you felt like you were melting.

you had climax into sebastian's hand, fuck- why isnt he stopping-?! you continued to cry out before he stuff his finger with your cum into your mouth, you immediately bit onto his fingers to muffle your moans.

his climax came sooner than you expected, he twitched and came inside. he slowed down his thrust, riding out his climax before pulling out.

you panted, thinking its over,, until sebastian gripped your aas and spread them apart revealing your winking hole, dripping out his children batter.

without hesitation, he dive in as if its his last meal, slurping and eating his own cum. you moaned at this, trying to push him away but he stayed still.

"what are you-"

"round 2? gotta have heirs for the future y'know.." he said with a toothy grin, flipping you over your back and pressing you thigh until your ankle reach your chest.

"ah?!"

the knights guarding outside sebastian's chamber looked at each other then looked down, the two of them had an erection from your moaning- tone it down sometimes!

a/n: not proud with this one, will check and edit it in the morning (its 3.56 am right now) goodnight ^_^

[marthawrites]

Between the Covers

Modern Aemond Targaryen x girlfriend reader

Word count: 3.4k+

Can be read as a one shot but reads best as part two to Summer's End, Autumn's Beginning

About: During a cozy night in at your place, Aemond discovers your new taste for “literature”. Upon confronting you about it he makes a deal. Part of you wants to say no… but, you ultimately agree to his terms.

Includes: Established relationship, fluff, teasing, banter, and smut featuring breast play (reader is implied to have sensitive breasts), minor vampire play, pussy eating, vaginal fingering, Aemond loses his mind at the mention of blood sucking, dirty talk, vaginal sex, and reader and Aemond say 'I love you'

Note: Hello lovely reader! This might be ooc for Aemond but it's ic for the Aemond in my heart! My heart and pussy wrote this so if you have a problem with it up take it up with them!! Reader is non-descript! As always, I hope you enjoy this fic ♥

Autumn turned to winter, then winter to spring, and things with you and Aemond were better than ever. According to Aegon the two of you were “disgustingly cute”, and Helaena, on more than one occasion, admitted how she’d never seen her little brother so happy. 

Alys, despite her best efforts, had been fully removed from the picture after the last big fight that had you and Aemond taking a long self-reflecting break. 

Perhaps the universe really did do you a favor by making you face an ugly side of yourself–jealousy, distrustfulness, suspicion. Was it fun to look at in the eyes? No. Absolutely not. But, it made you realize things about yourself which ultimately lead you and Aemond to give the relationship another chance: a real honest chance. 

He too was far from perfect and had his own baggage and scores to settle. But at the end of the day you two were fucking wild for each other. And that’s all that mattered.

While your third floor apartment wasn’t anything compared to the sprawling Targaryen estate, it was cozy and located in one of the nicer neighborhoods in King’s Landing. Any city had its slums and dark underbellies, but thankfully you didn’t have to deal with either of those. Inwardly you were convinced that if you did live in one of those shady places that Aemond would swoop you away to his own private quarter in his family’s mansion. The idea of moving in together had been hinted at a couple times and each time your belly–and heart–did flips. One day, sure, maybe. But, now? You hadn’t even been together for a year yet. Moving in together was a huge commitment.

Perhaps something to consider for your three-year plan. 

Or, one-year plan.

You both had a free day tomorrow, so Aemond took advantage of it and stayed the night. After dinner you took a shower and he waited in your bedroom, searching for something to watch. 

There were so many choices. Why was there always so many choices? It made it such a challenge to actually decide on something!

When you came out with damp hair and your favorite pajamas–a big shirt and cute underwear–you proclaimed, “I saw an A24 movie last night I think we’d both like!”

He looked over at you from where he lay lounging on your bed in black sweats and a white tee, barely contained amusement plastered on his face. “As much as I love those, I’m less interested in movies now that I’ve found this,” he said, holding up the latest book you’ve been reading. 

Oh. 

Oh no. 

Did you forget to put it back on your shelf? Warmth flooded your face. “Baela was talking about it and she talked it up so much I had to check it out!” You admitted a little too quickly, hiding an embarrassed smile behind a hand.

“Uh-huh,” he smirked. “Vampire smut? If you’re so bored by The Two Towers all you had to do was say something.”

Your eyes–no, your whole face–brightened with shared amusement. “What! No, it’s not smut. There’s plot!” You said defensively (perhaps not convincingly, though, with the giggle), as you hopped on the bed and straddled him. His slim hips fit so easily between your bare, soft thighs, it was almost criminal. Mischief sent his eye twinkling. You took the book from him and cleared your throat, preparing to read the synopsis on the back. “Listen, ‘kay? This explains it really well.”

“Already read the back,” he said, sly. “And comments on goodreads. Seems to be extremely popular with women. There were… lots of caps, exclamation points, sweaty face and fire emojis… rave reviews.” Sometimes when he smiled–really smiled–he had little dimples; they were out on full display, now. He ran his wide, warm palms up your thighs, thumbs skimming dangerously close to that delicate space between your thighs he loved so, so fucking much. “Do you want to know what my favorite part is though?” He asked as if it were a secret.

Goosebumps tickled your skin as he teased you. You didn’t bother to put a bra on and you suddenly became acutely aware of your t-shirt’s texture as your sensitive nipples tightened beneath it. How easily your body reacted to his. “What’s your favorite part?”

He took the book from you and opened it. Smirking, he read Baela’s note she left for you on a post-it sticky, his voice an octave or two higher: “‘chapter 32 might be the hottest thing I’ve ever read in a book. It will change your life.’” He peered up at you with an arched brow. “Have you got to chapter 32 yet?”

You were blushing and giggling and trying so hard to not rip the book from his hands and smother his taunting face with one of your many pillows. “Oh my gosh shut up you are terrible!”

He laughed. “You’re the one reading vampire smut!”

“There’s plot!”

Aemond flexed beneath you and the next thing you knew you were on your back beneath him. His long silver-blonde hair was pulled back into a ponytail and it hung over his shoulder threatening to tickle your face. “My pretty girl still hasn’t answered me,” he said as he pinned you down, lowering to nip your earlobe. “Or will I have to use compulsion to get it out of you, hm?”

You felt his grin against your neck, heard it in his question, and before you could stop yourself a little moan escaped your mouth because he bit you. Really bit you. His teeth, clean and sharp, clamped around a mouthful of your neck. He drew it into his mouth, sucking, and–fuck it was hot–you then understood why women in silly vampire books gave in so easily to the predator. You knew your pulse had to be jumping right there in the flesh he held between his teeth. All those giggles from before vanished and were replaced with small gasps. You squeezed your hands over his shirt-covered shoulders, answering, “n-no… I haven’t read that far yet.”

He relaxed his mouth and licked up the same bit of skin he’d been biting, kissing it softly. “Good,” he replied. “You can read it out loud to me now.”

That perked you right up. “Oh my god Aem! No!” 

“But I’m sooo curious to know what happens when she goes inside the castle. I skimmed the last chapter you were on. Something about him loving the smell of her blood, barely able to control himself around her, and she’s stuck there with him now?”

You were laughing again. “You’re such an ass!”

“Those are very important plot points,” he said smoothly, matter-of-factly. “And it’s chapter 31. So all the tension will lead up to the famous chapter 32.” He kissed you as he spoke; your mouth, jaw, neck, collarbone, whatever he could reach.

You were still laughing, but his kisses relaxed you, too. You pushed your hands up beneath the front of his shirt and gently scraped your fingernails over his abdomen. His chest. You felt his muscles quiver slightly beneath your touch. You loved how his body reacted to you. While stroking between the patch of hair at the center of his chest, and the trail of hair below his navel, you asked, sheepishly, “what if I get embarrassed?”

It was his turn to perk up. Pulling back, he looked down at you with a mixture of deviousness and softness that had your heart flipping. “Let’s make a deal.”

“Why am I have scared to hear this deal? But… okay, let’s hear it,” you replied, smiling and biting your lip.

“As long as you keep reading, I’ll keep eating your pussy.”

Yet another wave of heat rushed to your face and along your spine. You really, really hoped Aemond couldn’t see the blush of your features. Knowing him, however, he probably did… or at least saw the spark of desire, excitement, and embarrassment in your eyes. “You really wanna hear me read this stupid book?”

He nodded. “Yeah. And I wanna eat you too. So, why not both?”

“Well, when you put it that way…,” you mumbled in agreement, grabbing your book and opening to where you last left off.

Aemond shuffled triumphantly and smiled one of those smiles that if he did indeed have fangs they’d certainly be showing. He kissed your throat as he pushed the bottom of your shirt up, grazing his fingertips along your belly as he did so, not stopping until the softness of your breasts melted against his palms. Squeezing the sensitive mounds, he gave your neck one last little nip before lowering to your bared tits. He made a noise in his throat at the sight of them–your pretty nipples peaked with need–and he held each in a hand. Looking up at you he asked, "how long do you think you’ll last reading?” He squished your tits together so your nipples were as close together as they could be. Hot mouth wrapped around one and he sucked, greedily drawing it into his mouth. He relished the sensation as well as your gasp of surprise. He relaxed his mouth and let your tit free only to repeat the motion to the other one.

Fuck. He’d barely started, you hadn’t even begun reading, and you already felt warm tension pull in your belly. Your breasts have always been sensitive. Sometimes when you were feeling especially needy, and Aemond especially wicked, he’d suck your tits until you came. Part of you wondered if he meant to do that now with how he lavished them. “Shit–Aem! Not long if you keep this up…!” You moaned, biting your lip again as your eyelids trembled closed. “Haven’t even let me start yet..!”

A laugh rumbled in his chest. “You’re right…,” he said, slowly circling his tongue around and between your nipples. “Go ahead and start reading then, baby. I’ll get nice and comfortable between these thighs.” 

True to his word, he did. Your boyfriend meant to murder you. Without a fucking doubt. Straight up murder.

With a shuddering breath you began to read aloud.

Aemond kissed over your covered pussy, not yet bothering to move your underwear aside or take them off. He wasn’t trying to be especially distracting yet, but he loved knowing you were wet and eager for him. He kissed the insides of your thighs–that impossibly soft dip where your thigh met your pelvis–and even the underswell of your asscheeks as your legs spilled open. He knew right where your clit was. He licked over it through your panties. Teasing. Coaxing. Hoping to hear your voice warble with want.

It did. There was no way you’d be able to keep this up for the rest of the chapter as well as the next chapter. The main female character, a human, had just re-dressed into something suitable for dinner. In this case, a gown that complimented the color of her skin and shape of her body. And the main male character, a vampire, was waiting for her to finish. Before this, the tension had indeed been all over the place. Blood, desire, lust, everything sinful about the undying charisma of vampires. At the end of the chapter she walked downstairs only to make him utterly darken with lust. And, at the end of the chapter, Aemond pulled the front of your panties aside to finally give the full length of your pussy a hot, slow lick. You gasped in time with the main female character’s gasp.

“Think he sinks his teeth into her pretty neck and finally takes what he wants?” Aemond asked, low and somewhat muffled, as he turned his gaze up to your heated face.

You couldn’t believe this was happening. You half thought he was joking about the whole thing! But… then again, you knew Aemond pretty damn well by now and knew he wasn’t the prankster type. You moaned softly at the slow, wonderful feeling of his tongue on your clit. Then, you answered in a shaky breath, “it’s the temptation. He worships her. Or… at least her blood. He won’t tear her apart. He needs her.”

He made one of his classic little ‘mmm’s in thought. “Keep reading, baby. I’m dying to see what happens.” Another lick, another kiss to your most sensitive bud, and a gentle suck. 

Fuck–if he kept this up?! Pleasure rippled up your body in goosebumps and your voice shook as you read into the new chapter.

Somehow the book tension intensified even further. Between that, and how Aemond continued to slowly eat you, your head felt dizzy. Really, honest to God, you didn’t know how much more you could take. Then, the next line started to crumble some of that tension: “The vampire lord kissed the top of the lady’s hand, and when he did his fingers grazed the delicate webbing of veins on the underside of her wrist. Her scent bloomed beneath him. A perfume. His jaw ached with the need to consume. To consume her.”

Aemond picked up pace, too, as did your pulse. He balanced you on the edge of bliss and wouldn’t yet let you go. 

You began to stammer over words. You even left some unfinished. Because now you read a scene that was strikingly similar to your current situation. The vampire had his lady laid back and sprawled on the staircase, her skirts bunched high, his starved tongue feasting between her thighs.

Aemond groaned appreciatively. He worked you higher and higher, selfishly making it harder for you to read out loud, and savored each and every little dip and rise of your voice. His good girl. So fun, and playful, and willing to entertain his silly ideas. God, he loved you. He memorized all the signs of orgasm in your body. He could hear them. Feel them. He knew you were getting close, but he didn’t want you to come yet. There was still more to be read. Right before climax could claim you, he stopped.

“Aemond!” You squealed, near breathless. You looked down at him, accusatory, blissful eyes glaring. “Not fair!”

“Did I forget to mention I’ll only let you come when I want you to? Sorry, love, my bad.”

“How convenient of you,” you retorted.

“Do keep going though? I have a feeling he’ll need a taste of her blood now that he’s tasted her cunt.”

Begrudgingly, you did. And, as luck would have it… (did he read ahead while you were in the shower!?): “The vampire lord’s cock strained in his breeches, throbbing with a pulsing need that sent his mind to delirium. He never craved anything so badly as he did her.”

Aemond made more of those ‘mmm’s in agreement as he started to slowly work you up again. He pressed his tongue into you and let his nose rub against your clit. His hands rubbed and squeezed over any part of your body he could. Waist, belly, hips, thighs, anything; he loved all of it. He could lay here and do this all fucking night–vampire smut or no.

It became harder and harder to keep reading. Between little moans, whimpers, and firm bites to your lip, you kept trying. By now, the chapter progressed to both of them in various stages of undress on the staircase. “The vampire lord claimed her body with his hot, rigid manhood. At the same time he filled her with his cock, he sunk his teeth into her neck.”

After that you were no longer able to make words. A finger replaced Aemond’s tongue as his mouth lavished your clit. You dropped the book and neither of you seemed to care anymore. One of your hands gripped into his hair–more than likely making the sleek pull back of his ponytail a mess–while your other hand played with your breasts. Seemingly effortlessly, a second finger joined the first and your hips rolled in a desperate need for more. “A-ah yes!”

A soft dark laugh rumbled from him as he watched you from below. “You’re so fucking wet your pussy just sucked my finger in. I barely had to move it. Getting close again, my love?” He asked as those two deft, long fingers worked your inner walls with blinding precision. “I love how you were blushing and fumbling with your words when you read. Fuck–you’re so pretty with my fingers in you.”

A familiar tightness began to build in your legs. The inside of your thighs started to tremble. Your head, fuzzy as it already was, buzzed with your body’s anticipation. Pleasure. So much pleasure. Your fingers tweaked your nipples for that extra little push, and apparently that’s exactly what you needed.

Aemond’s tongue was on your clit again, quick and light compared to the harsh way he fingerfucked you. This time he didn’t edge you along.

Orgasm, beautiful and consuming, swallowed you into a starless dark. When you came back to yourself your head was heavy. The tips of your fingers tingled. Everything felt light. Like you weren’t quite inside your own body yet. “What the fuck Aems…,” you whispered, smiling like a dork.

That was one of the best orgasms and he fucking knew it. He had to know it. 

He carefully rolled away from you to let you catch your breath. “Better than the book?”

“Without question.”

He grinned as he watched you regain yourself. Once he was sure you were okay he pulled you on top of his naked form. When did he take his clothes off? “Always so sweet to me,” he said with that same grin. “I can still taste you on my tongue and need to feel you on my cock. Now.”

You didn't need to be told twice. Your body was ready for him as soon as he moved you atop him. He looked so good, so handsome, so devastatingly perfect as he sat there against your headboard, your bodies meshing together so well. His lean arms wrapped around you, nails scratching down your back, as you lined up with him.

The stretch was unfuckingbelievable. 

Moaning in unison, he rolled his hips up into you with one hand gripped on your waist. Your breasts squished against the firm planes of his. Your scent, your skin, your lust all around him. The squeeze of your cunt around his entire length had him half crazy. There wouldn't be any more teasing. 

You ground onto him, desperate to fuck him as silly as he had fingered you. 

One of his hands gripped the hair at the back of your head and tugged downwards, exposing the fullness of your throat to him. Your neck. He bit you again–all but sinking his teeth into your flesh–and fucked up into you with added fervor. 

“God!” You squeaked, whimpering through your surprise. “Yes, yes, yes, keep biting me..!” You pleaded, bouncing on him in time with his upward rolls.

That's how you both stayed–his teeth on your neck, your fingernails leaving pink scratches on his pale skin, grinding and fucking each other with raw desire–until climax washed over both of you.

You were both panting, a little sweaty, and intoxicated by each other.

A couple minutes later, amidst pillow talk and teasing one another, Aemond asked, “would you read more to me another time?”

You looked at him cheekily. “Seriously?”

“Yes. I’m very interested in the plot,” he said with obvious innuendo. “And I don’t think you quite understand what you saying words like ‘cock’ ‘cunt’ and ‘blood sucking’ does to me.”

That sent you into another fit of giggles. “You’re insane!”

He rolled on top of you and smirked down at you. “Well?” He asked, grazing the tip of his nose against yours.

“Okay, okay. Yeah, I will.”

Pulling the blankets up around your bodies, you turned on the movie you mentioned earlier. Aemond laid on his back and scooped you against him, legs immediately intertwining with one another. Sated. Happy; even as your skin pleasantly burned where he left dark hickies behind.

“Thanks for that. It was a lot of fun,” he whispered against the crown of your head.

“Yeah it was,” you agreed. “I love you, Aem.”

“I love you too.”

-

Thank you so much for reading! If you enjoyed, please consider a follow, and/or reblog, and/or letting me know as it all makes me vvvery happy! ♥

Masterlist

See comment section for my main taglist and Aemond taglist! To be added or removed from either, please hit me up!

[eyelessfaces]

three weeks

poe dameron x reader

summary: poe has never been gone that long since you started dating; mornings happen to feel warmer when he is home.

warnings: p with minimal plot....., morning sex, handjob, piv sex, hair pulling (POE RECEIVING), this isn't just corn I promise it's mostly sweet because your honor they are in LOVE

tags: f!reader, fluff, banter, teasing:)

word count: 2.4k

masterlist | taglist | ao3

updates blog: @eyelessupdates

!!may the force be with you

You had fallen asleep to the featherlight stroke of his fingertips against your arm in his warm embrace; he had never been gone for that long since you started dating, and though you knew you would have to get used to being apart, you weren’t sure you actually would, ever. 

But if it always felt this way, always felt raw and pure when you found each other again like you had just fallen in love with each other all over again, then maybe it wouldn’t be so bad to be torn apart from time to time.

His eyes are still shut when yours open, long eyelashes kissing his cheeks as his slow, steady breath tells you he’s still asleep. It is quite rare for the both of you to be able to linger in bed and enjoy a morning together, he is most of the time already long gone when you wake up, even on his days off he still spends running around everywhere. 

You softly call his name when your hand comes to rest over his bare torso, fingers twisting with the chain around his neck, mouth pressing against the light stubble of his cheek.

He stirs softly, and his face contorts into a small yawn before he turns so he can nuzzle against your own. 

“Morning,” he rasps softly, voice cracking with sleep as his eyes remain shut. His hand slips under the sheets, settling over your hip, his throat vibrating with a low hum as your fingers gently weave through his thick, messy curls. His own fingers mirror yours when they slip under your shirt, rubbing patterns onto your skin; you always wonder how he’s so warm all the time, heat radiating off his body like a living radiator.

“Morning,” you reply in a soft exhale, smiling as he drowsily blinks at you. “Slept well?”

He hums in reflection. “Better than the past three weeks” he ultimately affirms, his lips faintly pecking at the corner of your mouth.

“Corny” you mock, sighing softly when he shifts to nestle his face in the crook of your neck.

“Factual” he counters as he squeezes your hip, causing you to softly yelp in surprise and make him breathe out a laugh against your shoulder. “May seem surprising, but I actually like sleeping by your side in my bed more than I like sleeping practically on the ground in a shitty tent.” he adds, leaving a kiss just above the collar of your shirt before turning around.

“I would’ve never guessed that.” you tease. Poe takes a look at the holographic clock, turning back to you with a small frown when he realizes what time it is. Your eyes widen playfully, “I took the morning off. Surprise”

“Ouhhh,” he chants with a snide smirk, his hand crawling higher under your shirt as he presses his body close to yours again. “What a nice surprise”

“First time we can spend the morning together,” you note.

“It happened before”

You scoff. “Not by the book. You ended up being late to your own meeting” you retort with a playful smirk. The memory makes your stomach flutter; he had been particularly needy and desperate that morning, and you had had trouble trying not to laugh when he showed up to the conference room with his hair all mussed up and a faint blush over his face.

“Alright, yeah, but neither of us would’ve been happy if I left the room to get to the meeting in time huh?” he smirks, leaning in to capture your lips in a quick kiss as his hand under your shirt tickles up your ribs. “We kinda were in the middle of something”

“That we were” you acquiesce with a grin, hands joining the back of his neck to pull him back to your face again. His lips push against yours in a bruising kiss now, his free hand grasping onto your chin to part your mouth so he can slip his tongue in. He somehow manages to feel even closer to you when he works his tongue against yours, his kiss hungry and demanding as he softly grinds his hips against yours, his touch warm and impatient; your soft moan resonates within him when he cups your breast under your shirt, squeezing it softly.

He pulls away so the both of you can catch your breath. “Eager much?” you ask against his mouth, his lips still brushing against yours. 

“I mean, three whole weeks of not being able to touch you baby.”

You smile, “Mhm” you mindlessly play with the curls at his nape, hands shifting to rest over his broad shoulders, your thumb gently rubbing over a small faded scar there. He presses his forehead against yours, his warm brown eyes boring into yours with that look you know all too well. 

“I missed you” he mutters, hand smoothing over the surface of your stomach. You smile as you softly trace his face, the light stubble prickling the tips of your fingers.

“I know.” you press your lips against his again, hands shifting to grasp onto his hair; he lets out a faint groan when you bite onto his bottom lip as you pull away from the kiss. “Let me get on top of you” you demand, poking his stomach playfully.

“Oh yeah baby” he rolls onto the side, letting himself lay back down beside you. “Wouldn’t say no to that” he chuckles, tucking both his hands behind his head, a sly smirk growing over his face as you chuckle and press your hands over his bare torso, shifting to sit over his lap, your knees at either side of his hips.

You scoff when you adjust your position, softly grinding against him. “You’re fully hard already? Not even letting me work for it? Wow”

“You got that kinda effect on me,” he sighs softly, hands grabbing your hips, caressing your sides under your shirt. “I told you, three whole weeks of not being able to touch you”

You chuckle mockingly, leaning closer to his face. “Yeah, don't tell me you didn't touch yourself though” you whisper teasingly; he scoffs and wraps a hand behind your head to bring you closer, letting his mouth wander here and there against your neck.

“My hand is nothing compared to you” he grins between kisses. You shift to the side, still pressed close to him, your hand sliding down his torso and stomach to eventually reach under his boxers. He lets out a lewd groan when your hand closes around him, his nose nestling behind your ear as you start to stroke him slowly.

“My hand better?” you ask, your other hand cupping the back of his head as he breathes out against the skin of your neck, the brush of his lips warm against your skin. He hums approvingly, thumbs rubbing at either side of your hips; he always has to touch you one way or another, no matter the situation. His mouth always has to be occupied too; the brush of his lips ignites a warmth within you as he leaves faint kisses under your ear and down your neck to your collarbone, his forehead resting against your shoulder as he bucks softly into your touch. 

“Feels so good baby” he mumbles, a loud moan leaving his mouth and his eyes squeezing shut when you twist your hand just the way he likes. “Fuck” he sighs, “You’re gonna get me off like that?”

“Got a problem with that commander?” you scoff in disbelief as you tease his slit with your thumb, your hand in his hair tugging on it so you can see his face.

He sighs a soft moan, his lust-blown eyes darting up to you. “No but– Fuck– I’d like to get inside you before I remember I actually have responsibilities even on my days off” he declares in a tone he knows by experience you can’t resist, his hand shifting to your thigh, caressing it up and down.

You sigh, “You’re so impatient it’s actually terrifying.” you say as you pull your hand out of the single piece of clothing covering him, made too tight now. “You should consider yourself lucky I can’t say no to anything you ask of me” he watches with a sly smile as you rid yourself of your underwear, sliding off his own before you move back to straddle him. 

“I do consider myself lucky” he grins as he looks you up and down, his gaze full of love as he runs his hands up and down your thighs; his fingers are calloused from pushing blaster triggers and hitting the control panel buttons of ships, but the gesture is overflowing with affection. “Look at you” he croons. “C’mon babe,” he playfully swats your thigh as he shifts to get more comfortable on the bed. “Save an X-wing, ride a pilot” he teases, drawing a stupid chuckle out of you. 

He huffs out a sigh of relief when you lower yourself down onto his cock, biting onto his bottom lip once you're fully seated as he looks down at where you're connected.

He frowns, looking back up at you when you don't move after that. “Something wrong?”

“No” you declare, not offering him any other explanation. He chuckles, confused as to why you're staying still over his lap, not moving an inch.

“What then. What are you doing babe” you try to hold back from smirking as you see him grow impatient, his fingers softly kneading the meat of your thighs, trying to make you roll your hips over him. “Move”

“No” you shake your head with an insolent smile. “You're inside me, that's it, that's what you wanted” he huffs out a disbelieving laugh, throwing his head back the same way he does when you crack him a shitty joke; he's not sure he's patient enough to really enjoy this kind of joke right at this moment. “We have all morning Poe” you whine, leaning over to sink your face into the crook of his neck and leave a trail of kisses that follow along his necklace.

“Fine” he grunts softly, his arm wrapping around you to let his hand rest against your back. 

A surprised, sharp yelp escapes you when he – without warning – maneuvers and flips you around, making you land on your back; all that training happens to be useful in bed, after all. Your eyes squeeze shut when he pushes into you, the stretch of him unfamiliar again after what seemed to be ages.

“Three weeks baby, three weeks” he rams his hips into yours, tucking his face into your shoulder. “I don't have all morning”

You cup the back of his neck, nails softly digging in his skin as you hold onto him tight, your legs wrapping around him; he’s rutting into you like you’re gonna slip away from him, escape like smoke curling around his fingers and fading into oblivion. “Missed this so much,” he sighs into your ear, his words slightly scattered by the force of his movements. “Missed you so much” 

You want to give him your reciprocation, but all that comes out of you is a broken whine when he manages to reach deeper inside you; your hands bury into his curls, slightly tugging on them in response, drawing the same kind of wrecked moan out of him.

“F–Fuck okay” he chokes out after a sharp thrust. “Don’t do that if you want me to last”

“What if I don’t want you to last”

He scoffs. “Then we’ll have to fuck again because I can’t get enough of you” he declares, pressing his mouth against yours to kiss you sloppily, your hand cupping the side of his face as he continues to fuck into you, not giving up on his rhythm. He hums as he desperately licks into your mouth, his thrusts growing messy when you purposefully pull on his hair again. “Sweetheart I’m not kidding” he warns in a breathy laugh, his forehead pressing against yours. “You’re gonna make me lose it”

You brush away the strands of hair falling over his face, “Then you better hurry making me come” you tease, making him huff out a sincere laugh.

But there is no challenge Poe Dameron doesn’t take seriously.

He fucks into you soft and deep, not letting up until he has you writhing underneath him, staving off his own release for yours. It almost feels like you’re melting into the mattress when you start to feel it, your fingers tightening in Poe's hair as he babbles incoherently into your ear, so close to his own peak; he finally lets himself go when you’re there, his stifled moan into your ear when he releases inside you extending the momentary haze buzzing in your head. 

It almost feels like you black out for a second; “Are you okay my love?” Poe asks concerned by your absent, weak blinks as his hand cups your face, his thumb gently tracing back and forth against your cheek. 

You offer him a small nod, and he shoots you a smile before kissing your forehead and jumping out of bed, coming back later with a washcloth to clean you up.

Then everything feels quiet again. The soft heaving of your breathing as his head rests over your stomach, his legs tangled with yours, the soft tickle of his fingers tracing circles and random shapes over any piece of bare skin he finds over you.

“I missed you too,” you declare in a weak mutter. “I didn’t say it back earlier.” 

You don’t see his smile, but you know it is there as he leaves a kiss over the surface of your tummy. He hums softly as you absent-mindedly play with his hair.

“I can't wait for this war to be over.” he admits. “We'll settle on Yavin, in a nice house not too far from my dad's,” he exhales softly through his nose at the idea of it all before he continues, “We'll have mornings to ourselves, like this, and we will have breakfast in our backyard where we’ll grow all kinds of plants and trees from all over the galaxy” he smiles, earning a sweet, longing chuckle from you that seems to still in the air. He pauses, waits for a moment before he says it– 

“I want to grow old with you.”

It’s in these moments that time feels like it slows down, but Poe sometimes wishes he could put this galaxy to a pause just so he could have more moments like these with you.

—

any and every comment is greatly appreciated!!

star wars taglist: @lockleysgrl @my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction @alexxavicry @mystinky-butt @anightshift @whatthefishh @dameronshandholder @campingwiththecharmings @mintgreen24 @spider-starry @jakecockley @cocodiem @spxctorsslxt @friedwings @luxisluxurious @stvnnie @dowbastan @il0vebeingdelulu @hammerhead96 @unear7hly

[kwanisms]

Otherworldly — l.minho

» stray kids masterlist «

➮ alien!Minho × f!Reader wc: 29.2k (I have absolutely no explanation lol) summary: While watching a meteor shower with her best friend, Y/N witnesses a UFO falling from the sky and crashing on her family's farm. The two rush to the wreckage site and find an alien spacecraft with a rather mysterious survivor. genres/themes/au: smut; supernatural and alien themes, s2l; non idol au, alien au warnings: adult dialogue, female reader, Minho is not from Earth so he doesn’t understand a lot of things, sexual content (18+ mdni), see smut warnings under the cut! special taglist: @yoonguurt , @anyamaris , @wooyoungqueen , @kpop-stories-21 , @xsweetelegantdiasterx , @kookthief , @stardragongalaxy , @millennial-fangirl , @blankdyean , @imwithurmother , @bangchans-angel , @oreoqueen , @yjeonginlvr , @zdgx1, @shuxsoo , @s00buwu , @queenmea604 Join the taglist! »» Closes 10/30 @ 23:00 CST! Strikethrough means I cannot tag you. MINORS WILL BE BLACKLISTED & BLOCKED. AGELESS BLOGS WILL NOT BE ADDED.

a/n: uh... yeah. I have no explanation or excuses to give you. I just couldn't stop writing. It happens lmao but I'm totally in love with this Minho. I want this Minho tbh. Thank you so much for reading and if you liked it please reblog or comment! I love reading your feedback! As always, this is a work of fiction and all characters are not reflective of their respective irl counterparts. for entertainment purposes only.

smut warnings: teratophilia (aka monsterfucking), unprotected sex (aliens have no concept of contraceptives but you should use protection), tentacles, alien genitalia, double penetration (f receiving), praise, anal (f receiving), Minho is more concerned at first about the anatomy but he goes pretty animalistic in the end. Let me know if I missed anything!

dialogue prompt: ❛ What? Does that feel good? ❜

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The worst thing about living in the middle of nowhere wasn’t the isolation. It was the lack of anything to do. You hated living on the outskirts of a small town in the middle of the country but it was all you knew. Growing up, your imagination took over, allowing you to play till your heart's content but as an adult, entertainment was much harder to come by.

You’d grown up on a farm, you’d lived that life and even though it was in your blood, in your roots, you still longed for more. For something bigger and brighter. You dreamed of life in a big city where you lived a busy work life and hung out with friends at clubs in high rise buildings.

Your life was a simple one but you longed for complexity.

The only thing you truly loved about living out here in the middle of nowhere was the endless view of the starry night sky. On a cloudless night, you could see thousands upon thousands of stars littering the endless black of night. It had been your favored view since you were small. Your mother had always shown an interest in the sky and she passed that love onto you, showing you endless books about space, the solar system, and the universe. Books that got more complex the older you got.

You learned everything from the most basics up to the complexity of supernovas and even black holes. Your mother taught you everything she knew, which was more than you could have ever hoped to learn on your own. Your mother had graduated top of her class from a prestigious university. She was from a small town and while back home, visiting family and attending a state fair, she’d met your father and it was love at first sight.

Not long after their wedding, you and your sister had been born. Your parents moved the family to your dad’s old family farm to take over when your grandfather had to be put in a nursing home until his ultimate passing. Your grandmother lived just a little longer but in the end, you knew she died of a broken heart, passing as peacefully as one could.

Your father had grown up on a farm as well and it was in his blood, too. He’d taken to teaching you and your sister everything he knew about farming and animal keeping. Though you didn’t have many animals. A few cows, a couple of pigs, and a handful of chickens. In addition to the farm animals, you had a couple farm dogs, an elderly one who spent most of his days lying on the porch and a younger one who was much too excited to jump into action at the slightest disturbance.

Your barn was also inhabited by a family of barn cats which kept the mice and rats at bay.

Sure, your life was simple and while you didn’t mind it, you still wanted more.

The only person who seemed to really get you was your best friend, Jake.

You met Jake when you were in kindergarten. He had stolen your crayons during coloring time and later at recess, you’d pushed him over on the blacktop earning a timeout but if felt good. From then on, he not only asked to borrow your crayons but he also became your best friend.

You did almost everything with Jake. And you’d gotten into a fair amount of trouble with him, too.

It’s not like he was a troublemaker but when the two of you were put together, you became a pair of troublemakers. Alone you were tame but together you were menaces.

The first time you’d gotten into trouble was when Jake distracted the teacher in biology, allowing you to let the pet frogs escape from their enclosure. Chaos ensued as the class erupted into screams as several students tried to chase the escapees down. Ultimately, it landed you and Jake in detention but you wouldn’t take a single thing back.

When Jake got his first car, he picked you up and the pair of you went on a wild ride which ended with you crashing into Farmer Dan’s field and mowing down a line of his corn. Your best friend took the heat, allowing you to escape and return home without any trouble.

He always had your back and you always had his.

“Did you hear the news?” you asked as you sat on the hood of his jeep, Jake leaning back against the metal with his hands behind his head as he enjoyed the mid autumn sunshine. Jake was always outside, especially in the summer as he worked and helped his dad’s construction business. He had a perpetual tan which he liked to show off with sleeveless tanks.

Now, however, autumn was in full swing and the weather was chillier. He wore a light sweatshirt with the local university’s logo on it. You were both enrolled and the first semester of your last year of college was underway. You had opted to study biology while Jake was going for civil engineering. He initially didn’t want to attend but his father insisted he get a proper education and live a better life.

Your family was supportive of your efforts but your father often mentioned how your degree would come in handy in the family business. You didn’t want that though. You wanted to pursue a degree in zoology after graduating.

You wanted more than a life on a farm.

“What news?” Jake asked, not opening his eyes as he basked, reminding you of the lizards you used to catch as a child. The ones that liked to lay on rocks in the sun and warm up. “The shower,” you replied, picking at the sleeve of your sweater, pulling off the little pilled up threads. Jake opened one eye, looking up with you. “What shower?” he asked, forcing a knowing smile from you.

Jake was about as country as they came. He loved everything about small town living and farm life. He liked to spend summers mudding with his buddies, swimming in the creek, and working hard. The two of you had grown into opposing forces but you always heard people around you saying “you know how opposites attract” and it couldn’t be more true for you and your best friend.

“The meteor shower,” you clarified, dropping your hands into your lap and looking down at him. He opened his eyes, giving you his full attention. “I think Julia said something about it,” he answered before giving you a knowing look. “You want to watch it, don’t you?” he asked.

You nodded excitedly, lips spreading into a smile. Jake sighed dramatically before propping himself up on his elbows. “Alright,” he said after a moment. “I’m in,” he nodded. “But,” he added, pointing at you with his index finger. “I’m bringing the beer.” You rolled your eyes. “Fine,” you answered.

“Tonight, then,” you started. “Come over after dinner,” you said as you slid off the hood of his car. “And we’ll go up to the hill.” You started towards the house as Jake sat up and gave you an exaggerated salute.

“Sir, yes sir!”

The rest of the day passed in a blur as you went about your chores, helping your mother with the laundry, making sure your sister did her homework, and helping cook dinner. Your dad had parked himself in front of the television at just about six, turning on the news and watching the broadcast.

You overheard the news anchors talk about the meteor shower and smiled as your dad called you into the room. “You know about this?” he asked, gesturing towards the tv. You nodded. “Yeah, Jake is coming over later and we’re gonna watch it,” you answered, noticing the way your dad seemed to light up at the mention of your best friend.

Your parents had only had you and your sister and while your dad loved you as much as any parent, you knew he would have loved to have a son. A mini version of him to play ball and rough house with. Instead, he got two girls who nearly beat him up every time he tried to wrestle. Two girls who kicked his ass at baseball and teamed together to take him down when playing football.

You knew your father had no regrets about having two girls and no son but he had that bond with your best friend. Just two guys who could sit around and watch the game even if they were rooting for separate teams. If your dad had his way, he’d jump at the chance to have you marry Jake.

You weren’t interested in him like that however. Jake was your best friend. He was like a brother to you. The thought of marrying him was foreign and you never once entertained the idea. Your parents certainly had, dropping subtle hints at you whenever the subject of marriage or the future came up.

“I like that Jake boy,” your dad said as he settled back into his seat.

“He’s not a boy anymore, dear,” your mother called from the kitchen as you moved back into the room to help her with dinner. “He’s a man now.”

Your dad hummed in agreement as he continued to watch the news, greeting your sister as she walked into the room. “Smells good, mom,” she said as she moved to lean against the kitchen island. You resumed cutting veggies for your mom as she manned the pan.

You lightly slapped your sister’s hand as she tried to grab a piece of one of the veggies you were cutting. “Knife!” you warned her as you resumed cutting. She pouted before you picked up a piece of carrot and held it up, ready to toss in her mouth. “Girls, don’t throw food!” your mother lightly chastised as you tossed the carrot into your sister’s mouth and she raised her arms.

“And it’s good!” she called as your dad changed the channel to the game.

Your mother rolled her eyes, still smiling as she continued to stir the contents of the pan. “Add those in here,” she instructed. You shot your sister a wink as you lifted the cutting board and carefully pushed the veggies into the pan where they started to sizzle and mix with the meat.

As your mother finished cooking, you and your sister set the table and called your dad in. He grumbled and turned off the television and joined you in the dining room as your mother carried the pot in. She set it on the table in the middle, warning your dad it was still hot.

You moved to grab the basket of rolls and butter keeper as your sister filled the glasses with water. Once everything was in the dining room and everyone had a glass of water, you joined your family, sitting across from your sister. Your dad briefly said grace before adding in a cheer for his favorite football team and you started to help serve dinner. As always, a home cooked meal was delicious, especially since it was your mother’s cooking. Everyone always said their mother was the best cook but you truly believed it. Your mother was arguably the best cook in the entire world.

Minho sighed, looking out the thick glass into the infinite nothingness. It had been about a month since he left home and only a day or so since his last space jump. Checking the mapping system, his latest jump put him somewhere in the Alpha Quadrant. Since then, he’s been flying through, passing by Sol X, IX, VIII, VII, VI and Sol V. These were planets he’d learned about as a child.

Seeing them in person was like something out of a dream. He’d seen most of them on a screen or in a hologram but seeing the planets up close was more than he could have ever hoped. He’d learned about the Great Milky Galaxy and all its solar systems and that one in particular, the Sol System, was home to intelligent life.

Never in his life had Minho ever expected to travel this far, especially alone. He stared in awe out the window as he flew through the seemingly nothingness. Except it wasn’t empty.

He’d made it past the plants and past the Sol Asteroid Belt and was closing in on Sol IV when his ship started sounding an alert. “WARNING, WARNING,” the female AI voice said. “ENTERING THE DETECTION SYSTEMS OF SOL III. APPROXIMATE TIME OF DETECTION 3 DECAMINUTES.” Minho groaned as he reached for the switch for the comms system. “Shut up, Stan!” he snapped before switching the communication system off and tried to focus on flying.

Stan was the name of the AI computer that was installed in most space flight craft like the one Minho was currently flying. It stood for Steolla Transmission and Navigation. Starships and fleet crafts had a different AI computer. 

The thing about AI systems is that no matter how many times you turn them off, they can just turn themselves back on. The screen flickered back to life, displaying a sad face. “Why are you so mad at me, Minho?” the voice asked. He sighed heavily and continued to fly, noticing that Sol IV was slowly coming into view.

“I’m just trying to focus on flying, Stan, so if you don’t mind. Please stop talking,” Minho said as he watched the rust red planet come into view. “Okay, Minho,” the computer said before falling silent. As he neared the red planet, Minho started to slow. “Actually, Stan, can you tell me more about Sol IV?”

The computer came to life, the screen displaying a smiley face. “Certainly, Minho! Sol IV, known to locals as Mars, is the fourth planet from Sol, the star at the center of the Sol System. Known for its rust red color, Sol IV is covered in soil rich in finely grained iron three oxide, also called ferric oxide, dust. This inorganic material is what gives Sol IV its red color. It is the second smallest planet in the Sol System and the farthest terrestrial planet from Sol. Sol IV has a thin atmosphere made primarily of carbon dioxide and has two irregularly shaped natural satellites: Phobos and Deimos.”

Minho looked down at the red planet. “Small?” he asked softly. “Indeed,” Stan said. “Mars is approximately one eighth the size of Ninsa,” Stan replied. Minho said nothing but started to accelerate, passing the red planet and heading towards Sol. Despite the fact that Sol IV was smaller than his home planet, from his position, it looked huge.

“Entering Sol III space,” Stan said as Minho neared a round dark rock. “This is Sol III?” he asked, sounding disappointed. Stan spoke up. “Oh, goodness no. This is Luna, also known as the Moon. It is the natural satellite of Sol III.” Minho slowed, turning and dipping the steering, maneuvering around the moon.

As he did so, his eyes widened, the bright blue and green of Sol III coming into view. His lips parted in a silent gasp. “Is… this Sol III?” he asked, his voice barely above a whisper as he stopped accelerating, slowing the ship and leaning forward, resting his arms on the top of his steering column.

“Correct,” answered Stan. “This is Sol III, also known as Earth, Terra, Tellum, and Gaia.” Minho let out a breath. “It’s pretty,” he noted. “Indeed. The blue you see is the ocean which covers seventy point eight percent of the surface of the planet. The remaining twenty-nine point two percent of Sol III’s surface is land, most of which is located in the form of continental landmasses. Most of the land is somewhat humid and covered by vegetation while large sheets of ice at the polar deserts retain more water than all of Sol III’s groundwater, lakes, rivers, atmospheric water combined.”

Minho listened intently as Stan went on, describing the planet in detail.

“Sol III’s land is part of the planet’s crust, consisting of several slowly moving tectonic plates, which interact to produce mountain ranges, volcanoes, and earthquakes, much like Ninsa. Sol III has a liquid outer core that generates a magnetosphere capable of deflecting most of the destructive solar winds produced by Sol and also protecting the inhabitants from cosmic radiation.”

“So it’s not much different than Ninsa,” Minho said, a smile forming. “Correct,” Stan replied. “Though Sol III is much smaller than Ninsa. It is twice the size of Sol IV.” Minho chuckled, looking down at the planet. “Tell me more,” he ordered.

“Certainly, Minho.”

Through the computer, Minho learned about the atmosphere of Sol III and how it sustains life, protects the planet from meteoroids and UV-light. “The composition is primarily nitrogen and oxygen,” Stan explained as Minho stared at the orb floating in vast nothingness.

“And what about the inhabitants?”

While you ate, your mother asked your father if he’d finished packing and he nodded silently. “Honey,” your mother said in a knowing tone. Your father smiled sheepishly before shrugging. “I’ll do it after dinner,” he replied. You took a sip of water and smirked at your little sister.

“How long will you be gone this time?” your sister asked. “A week,” your mother answered. “Just like last time?” you asked, looking up from your plate as your mother nodded, taking a bite of her food. She swallowed before replying. “Yes, so you’ll be on your own for a week.”

You looked from your mother to your father. “You mean we, right?” you asked, nodding towards your sister. Your mother shook her head. “Your sister is going on a camping trip with her friends,” she answered. You glanced at your sister who smiled back. ‘Camping trip my ass.’

“So don’t burn the house down,” your dad joked. You chuckled and shook your head. “I might not be inside much,” you reminded him. “School and all that,” you added. “Don’t you have a week off?” your sister asked curiously. You glared at her.

“Why do you have a week off?” your mother asked, turning to look at you. “Some kind of professor planning thing,” you answered, lifting your glass to your lips. “It’s not a big deal.” You took a couple gulps of water before speaking again. “I’ll probably spend a lot of time with Jake or something,” you added.

After dinner, your sister and you helped clean up, washing the dishes and setting them aside to dry. “Why did you have to rat me out like that?” you whispered as you worked side by side. Your sister shrugged. “I thought you told them.” Shaking your head you handed your sister a soapy plate.

“I don’t tell them everything, you know,” you said softly to which your sister scoffed. “I don’t!” you insisted. Your sister rolled her eyes. “You so tell them everything,” she replied as you pulled the plug and allowed the soapy dishwater to drain before starting to spray the sink down.

You glanced over your shoulder where your dad was watching the game and turned back to your sister.

“I never told them that I lost my virginity,” you whispered before leaning back as your sister looked up at you shocked. You smirked at her and turned to walk away, leaving her to finish her side of the sink. You walked down the hall to your parents’ bedroom where your mother was packing for their trip.

“Shouldn’t dad be doing that?” you asked, causing her to look up. She smiled at you as she continued to pack your father’s clothes away for him. “I love your father,” she started as she placed neatly folded shirts in the suitcase. “But he’s terrible at packing.”

You chuckled as you moved to the bed to help her. Your mother smiled up at you as you folded shirts and handed them to her to pack away. As you worked quietly, you couldn’t help but admire how much your parents loved one another. Not everyone was lucky enough to meet someone and marry them, let alone be with them for a long time.

Your thoughts were interrupted by a knocking at the door followed by your dad calling your name.

Your mother smiled and took the shirt in your hands. “Go,” she said gently. “Have fun.”

You shot her a grin before heading out of the room and down the hall to the foyer where your best friend was standing, talking to your dad. “You ready?” Jake asked, perking up when he saw you. You nodded. “Let me just grab a hoodie from my room.”

You climbed the stairs quickly, darting into your room and grabbing your university hoodie. As you passed your sister’s room, you leaned into the door frame. She was lying on her bed on her stomach, playing with her phone as you watched her. “Have a good time,” you said, causing her to look up suddenly. “Be safe,” you added. “And don't do anything dumb.”

Your sister rolled her eyes but smiled at you. “You too,” she said. “Don’t do anything dumb with your boyfriend,” she said mockingly. You picked up a pillow from the chair by the door and threw it at her. “He’s not my boyfriend,” you retorted. “He’s my best friend.”

You called a final goodbye to your sister before dashing down the stairs where Jake was waiting. You called a goodbye to your dad who got up and walked over, pulling you into a hug. “Have fun, be safe,” he said before letting you go.

Outside, the sun had almost fully set. You climbed into the jeep as Jake got in and started the engine. The drive to the hill didn’t take long and soon, Jake was pulling to a stop and parking the vehicle. You quickly got out, pulling on your hoodie and climbing onto the hood of his jeep as he came around the drivers side with a cooler which he set on the ground.

“You want one?” he asked as he opened the cooler and grabbed a can. You shook your head and he shrugged as he climbed up. “Suit yourself,” he said softly as he opened the can and took a sip. He leaned back against the windshield and looked up at the sky.

“When’s it supposed to start?” he asked. You grabbed his wrist and looked at his watch. “Fifteen minutes,” you answered, turning your attention back towards the sky. The two of you fell into a comfortable silence, staring at the starry sky as the lights twinkled down at you from millions of miles away. Your thoughts were swirling in your head.

You were turning the words over in your mouth until you finally spoke.

“I’m leaving Derrey.” Your voice was so soft you weren’t sure Jake had heard you but when he sat up quickly, you knew he had indeed heard you.

“You’re leaving?” he asked softly. You nodded, turning your head to meet his gaze. Even in the low light of the setting sun, you could see the shock, confusion, and hurt cross his face. “Why?” he asked softly. “I’ve gotten early acceptance at the university in the city,” you answered, glancing down at his knee sticking out of a tear in his jeans.

“That’s… amazing,” he said, sounding suddenly excited. You looked back up. The negative emotions on his face were replaced with a smile. “What are you going to be studying?” Relief flooded your senses. You’d expected him to be upset with you for leaving him behind. You’d expected him to be mad.

“Zoology,” you finally answered. “I want to help animals,” you added. Jake smiled at you, one of his hands moved to cup your cheek. “You’re going to do big things, Y/N,” he said softly. “You’re going to be amazing.” You smiled, your cheeks growing warm.

In the corner of your vision, you saw something streak across the sky and turned quickly to see a meteor burn out. “It’s starting!” you said excitedly, sitting up straight and watching the sky, not noticing the way Jake’s smile fell before he also looked up at the sky.

“So Terrans have existed for approximately six million years?” Minho asked, looking from the planet to the computer. “Correct,” Stan answered. “And how long have Ninsans existed?” Minho asked as he started to slowly take the ship out of its suspended state.

“The first Ninsans appeared approximately 5 million years ago. They are directly descended from ancient humans, cross bred with Gorians to produce a genetically modified species and then selectively bred to create a pure strain,” Minho reached for the comms switch, flipping it so it cut off Stan mid speech.

“Save me the history lesson, Stan,” he said as he took hold of the controls, scoffing as the AI switched back on. “Sorry, Minho. It’s in my programming.” Minho shook his head as he started to fly around the moon, keeping Sol III in his line of sight. “We should not get closer,” Stan warned as Minho flew in.

“Shut up, Stan,” Minho argued. “Sol III has planetary defense systems in place. If we are detected, they could fire on us,” Stan continued. Minho rolled his eyes. “We’ll be out of here before they can detect us,” he said softly. “We will be spotted by the International Space Station.”

Minho slowed the craft. “The what?” he asked, looking at the computer screen as a rendering of some sort of spacecraft appeared. “The International Space Station is the largest modular space station in low Sol III orbit. The ongoing project involves five space agencies: the United States’ NASA, Russia’s Roscosmos, Japan’s JAXA, Europe’s ESA, and Canada’s CSA,” Stan explained.

“The ownership and use of the space station is established by intergovernmental treaties and agreements. The station serves as a microgravity and space environment research laboratory in which scientific research is conducted in astrobiology, astronomy, meteorology, physics, and other fields. The ISS is suited for testing the spacecraft systems and equipment required for possible future long-duration missions to the moon and Sol IV.”

Minho glanced at the blue planet and back at the screen. “You’re telling me, the inhabitants of Sol III haven’t been to Sol IV?” he asked incredulously. “Affirmative,” Stan answered. “Humanity has not yet developed the necessary technology for interplanetary travel. Humans have only visited their only satellite. They have had successful fly by missions past the other planets in their system and have sent multiple rover expeditions to Sol IV. The first manned mission to Sol IV is projected to happen within the next decade.”

Minho shook his head, a smug smile appearing on his face. “How is it, Ninsans have been around for less time but are more advanced?” he asked softly, not really expecting an answer. Stan, of course, had an answer for everything.

“Ninsans have been aided in their technology by Gorians. Humans have developed their technology on their own,” the computer replied. “You have been fortunate enough to be born in a world where deep space exploration is possible. Humanity did not have that help.”

The smirk on Minho’s face dropped slowly. He sat back in his seat, pursing his lips. “Fine,” he said flatly before reaching for the controls. Just as the tips of his fingers touched the wheel, the lights in the cabin went red, a warning sound emitting from the speakers.

“WARNING!” Stan’s voice said suddenly. “You are entering a field of meteors.” Minho grabbed the steering wheel and looked out the starboard side window. “What?” he hissed, seeing a cluster of comets hurtling towards the planet. “We haven’t even moved!” he exclaimed.

“Turn around and go around the planet to avoid collision and detection.”

“Shut up, Stan!” Minho said, flipping the comms switch. “I’m not going back. That’ll take longer. I’ll just go through,” he added as he adjusted his straps. The computer flickered back on. “The odds of surviving a run through a meteoroid field are—” Minho flipped the switch and sighed. “Don’t tell me the odds,” he grumbled as the computer switched back on.

“Minho, you must turn back now. This is the largest meteor storm in Sol III’s history. If you fly into it, you will get hit!”

Minho cursed, hand moving to fiddle with the controls. “I thought I told you to shut up, Stan,” he snapped as he tried to turn off the AI again. At the same moment, he took his hand off the control, a meteor whizzed past his shield and he cursed, moving his hand back on the control and continued to fly.

“Oh for fuck’s sake!” he yelled as he started to navigate the field, avoiding the meteors plummeting to the planet below. Another meteor zoomed by, disturbing his flight pattern and causing the ship to shake violently. “Shit!” he cursed again, diving below to try and avoid another meteor.

“WARNING. WARNING. COLLISION IMMINENT. TAKE DEFENSIVE MANEUVER TO AVOID COLLISION!” 

Minho swore. “SHUT UP, YOU STUPID COMPUTER!” he yelled, trying to dodge the space rock. He managed to fly around it but suddenly the entire ship rocked as no doubt another meteor hit on the right side of the ship. Electricity crackled, the screens distorting for a moment from a small surge in power.

“WARNING. WARNING. FLIGHT PATH COMPROMISED. LOSING ALTITUDE.”

Minho grabbed the controls again and flicked a couple switches, trying to adjust his orientation. One of the screens flickered red with words that made his stomach sink. “THRUSTERS FAILED TO ENGAGE.”

Alarms started blaring as another screen went red. “MULTIPLE SYSTEMS FAILURE,” Stan read aloud. “Shit,” Minho hissed. “Shit, shit, shit!”

He quickly started to fiddle with the controls, hoping if he redirected power, he might fly out of this mess.

“WARNING. ORBIT TOO STRONG. UNABLE TO PULL AWAY FROM SOL III. ABANDON SHIP. ABANDON SHIP!” Minho growled, hitting the top of the console. “Shut UP, Stan!!”

He pulled back on the wheel, hoping to point the nose of the craft up and while he was able to, the ship was now careening out of control, plummeting towards the blue planet. “Stan!” Minho called, looking at the computer screen that flashed red and a sad face appeared. “Yes, Minho?” Stan said, voice breaking as the ship started to enter the atmosphere.

“What do I do, Stan?”

The computer was silent for a moment before answering. “Raise the sun shade,” the computer finally answered. Minho flipped the switch, watching as the metallic screen raised, covering his view. “Okay,” Minho said.  “Now what?” Stan was silent for a moment.

“Take hold of the steering apparatus,” the AI instructed. Minho did so, grabbing it firmly. “Okay! Now what?” he asked. Stan was silent for a beat longer than last time. “Scream and hold on, Minho,” it finally replied.

“There’s nothing else you can do.”

“Which one is that one again?” Jake asked, pointing towards a star. You turned your gaze to see which one he was pointing at. “The bright orange one?” you asked. He nodded. “Yeah, that one,” he confirmed. “Uhhh, that looks like… Betelgeuse,” you replied.

Jake looked from the sky to you. “Beetlejuice? Like the movie?” You laughed, shaking your head.

“No,” you answered. “Betelgeuse. B-E-T-E-L-G-E-U-S-E,” you spelled it out for him. “It’s a mispronunciation of the original Arabic name. There was an error in a 13th-century reading of the Arabic initial ya as ba. So as a result, the European name is Betelgeuse,” you explained. “It’s part of the Orion constellation.” Jake turned his attention back on the star. 

“And what about that one?” he asked, pointing at another bright star. You squinted, looking at the star in question. “Oh, that’s Aldebaran!” you said excitedly. “Oldie what?” Jake asked. You rolled your eyes, laughing at him. “Aldebaran,” you repeated. “It’s also derived from Arabic,” you explained.

“It’s a red giant, so it’s a lot cooler than our star but it’s forty-four times larger than the Sun.”

Jake’s eyes widened comically. “Wow, that’s big,” he said, nodding. “What’s the name again?”

“Aldebaran. In Arabic, it’s al Dabaran. It means ‘the follower’ because it seems to follow Pleiades,” you explained, pointing to a cluster of lights near Aldebaran. “And what constellation is it part of?” Jake asked. “Taurus,” you replied quickly. You’d been waiting for him to ask that.

Jake smiled, turning his head to look at you. “Which constellation is your favorite?” You thought for a moment. What was your favorite constellation? There was always draco, a favorite of your mother’s. But then there was Ursa Major. Scorpius was another really neat one.

As you thought of your choices, one stood out to you. You turned to look at your best friend.

“Vulpecula,” you answered. His brow furrowed as a look of confusion washed over his face.

“What?” he asked, making you laugh out loud again. “Vulpecula,” you repeated. “It’s a fox.”

Jake sat up straighter, looking up at the sky. “Where is it?” he asked. You shook your head. “It’s not visible from here this time of the year,” you explained. “Oh,” Jake responded, slumping down. “The meteors are picking back up!” you exclaimed excitedly, pointing up at the sky.

Sure enough, more fiery streaks were darting across the sky, some of them lasting longer than the others. “Uh,” Jake said suddenly, looking around. “Are we safe here?” he asked, looking at you. “Of course,” you answered with a nod. “Most meteors will burn up in the atmosphere. Very few ever get past the mesosphere,” you added, giving him a reassuring smile.

You watched as more flashes streaked across the sky. As you were watching, you noticed something… different. It was like two meteors had collided. “Whoa, did you see that?” Jake asked, sitting up quickly. You looked over at him before back at the sky. You had seen it. You just weren’t sure what you had seen.

“What was that? Did two meteors hit each other?”

You shook your head slowly, watching the sky for any other sign. “I-I don’t know,” you stammered.

To your surprise, there was another flash in the sky. Like another collision. ‘What is that?’

Before you could voice your thoughts, you watched in a mixture of shock and disbelief as something fell from the sky, heading in the direction of your farm. “Y/N,” Jake said, his voice unsteady as he slowly scooted towards the edge of the hood of the jeep.

“What is that?”

You watched as the object flew in an unsteady and jerky pattern as it descended, a trail of fire behind it as it entered the stratosphere. “Y/N,” Jake said, a little louder. “What is that?!”

You couldn’t find your voice as the object continued to fall from the sky, sailing over the hill where you sat and headed for the woods. It was large, dark, and rounded. Not unlike a meteor but it looked almost… smooth.

You and Jake watched as it crashed into the trees, breaking a path into the woods where it eventually hit the ground with a resounding boom and the ground shook slightly. You turned to look at Jake who turned to look at you.

“What the f—”

You cut your best friend off by jumping off the jeep. “DID YOU SEE THAT?” you exclaimed, pointing in the direction of the woods. “Y/N,” Jake said as you ran to the end of the hill where it started to slope down. “Y/N, where are you going?”

You turned back to see Jake still seated on the hood of his jeep. “Are you coming or not?” you called. Jake shook his head, sighing as he slipped off the hood and moved around to the driver’s side, picking up his cooler and placing it back in the backseat.

“Come on,” he called back, opening his door and climbing in.

You scrambled up the hill to his jeep, yanking open the door and climbing in as he started the car and turned the headlights on. “Why couldn’t we just have a nice quiet night?” Jake whispered as he put the car in gear and started to drive down the hill and back towards the dirt road that led to your property.

The ride back took no time and as soon as Jake pulled onto your drive, you directed him to the edge of the woods, undoing your seatbelt as he put the jeep in park and cut the engine. “Y/N, wait for me!” he called as you jumped out of the vehicle, shutting the door and hurrying for the edge of the woods, Jake following reluctantly behind you.

Navigating the woods proved to be harder than you expected even with your phone’s flashlight. Jake had thankfully grabbed the flashlight from his glovebox and was leading the way in, helping you traverse over fallen logs and ditches. You passed a small portion of the creek and hurried up the embankment until you stood at the top, holding a tree for support. In the distance you could see sparks of electricity and broken branches. “It’s here!” you called as Jake started to climb up the embankment and join you.

He shined the light in the direction of the craft and whined as you started down the hill, using the thin trees to break any falls until you were on even ground and closer than ever to the object you’d both witnessed fall out of the sky.

“Y/N! Wait!” Jake called as he hurried down the hill after you.

You didn’t listen, instead pushing on, scrambling over a fallen log until you were within spitting distance of the strange craft. “Holy shit,” you heard your best friend gasp as he reached level ground and shined his light on the craft. You turned to look at him, a wide smile on your face.

“Can you imagine if we discovered the first known aliens to visit earth?” you asked, sounding much too excited for your best friend’s liking. “Stop,” he said sternly. “It’s probably some military craft. Don’t touch it!” he yelled, waving the flashlight in your direction.

You ignored him as the beam danced around, reaching up a hand and hovering it over the wall of the craft. Deciding to take the plunge you pressed your palm against it and… nothing.

You expected it to be hot but it was cool to the touch. And the material was smooth, metallic but still somehow soft. Not malleable like clay but still soft like silk almost. You kept your hand on the craft as you walked around to the front or what you assumed to be the front. There was no break, no windows, and no door. Whatever this was, there was no way into it that you could see.

“Y/N please come back,” Jake called from the opposite side of the ship.

You started to walk back around, catching sight of him in the low red light emitting from what you determined to be the rockets of the ship. He seemingly looked relieved upon seeing you. “You’re going to give me a heart attack,” he called, dropping from his perch on a log.

“Come on,” Jake added. “The cops and military are probably about to be all over this place in a matter of hours. Let’s get out of here.”

You glanced at him as he neared your spot. “Since when have you been scared of cops?” you asked challengingly. Jake scoffed as he stopped, leaning against the side of the ship. “Never said I was scared,” he said. “I just don’t want to get involved with the military.”

You rolled your eyes but before you could answer, a loud hissing interrupted you followed by a loud mechanical whirring and to Jake’s horror and your delight, a door started to open, materializing in the smooth surface of the ship’s exterior wall.

“Y/N!” Jake hissed as you leaned down, waving your hand to try and clear the smoke that billowed from the open orifice. “Don’t get too close!” Jake added, taking a couple steps as you tried to peer into the open door. You glanced back at Jake who looked back at you, shrugging. “Maybe it’s a drone?”

You rolled your eyes and turned back to the door only to fall back, a scream emitting from you as a dark figure stumbled from the doorway. Jake fell back, tripping over a log as he tried to scramble away from the mysterious figure.

You watched in shock as the figure stood up and started to walk away from the craft, heading towards the back and looking around. You watched as the figure looked up at the sky and balled up its fists before letting out a slew of colorful curses in English.

You turned your head to look at Jake who looked to meet your gaze. The look of shock on his face must have matched the one on yours. Your eyes went back to the figure as he turned back to the craft and started to inspect the damage, muttering to itself. As it stepped closer, you noticed in the dim light emitting from inside the ship that the figure, or should you say he, looked somewhat human.

You heard the snapping of twigs as Jake got up and hurried over to your side. “Come on,” he whispered, gently grabbing your arm. You watched as the pilot of the ship raised his arm and started tapping on something at his wrist. When it didn’t respond, he let out another growl of frustration and kicked the wall of his ship.

It was at this moment, he seemed to notice the two of you.

He stumbled forward and Jake tried to pull you back but couldn’t and fell behind you. “Where am I?”

You stared up at the man, eyes wide. ‘Did he just… ask me a question?’

When you didn’t answer, he turned his attention to Jake. “Where am I?” he asked louder and more demandingly. “I-Iowa,” Jake stammered. The man took a deep breath and let it out. “What’s Iowa?” he asked. You glanced over your shoulder, meeting Jake’s gaze. He looked just as confused and scared as you felt. “What is Iowa?” the man asked again, albeit a lot louder.

You turned back to look up at the man towering over you.

Before you could answer, you noticed his body seize up and he started convulsing before dropping to his knees and falling to his side where he lay motionless. You froze, staring in shock at the body. You peered back at Jake before pushing yourself up onto your feet, squatting as you moved forward. “Stop!” Jake hissed but you ignored him.

You stopped just short of the man and hesitantly pushed his boot. His foot as well as his leg jostled but he didn’t move. You tried again but it yielded the same result.

“Is he dead?” Jake’s voice asked from behind you. You crawled closer, hovering over the man. You moved slowly, bringing a hand to his neck and pressing two fingers against his neck just under his jaw. It was faint but you could feel a pulse. You moved the same hand towards his face, holding your finger under his nose where you could feel a steady breath.

You sat back and sighed. “He’s alive,” you answered. “Just unconscious.”

“What do we do?” you asked, turning to look at your best friend as he walked over. “What do you mean? Just leave him here. I told you, the cops and military will be here soon. Let’s just go, Y/N, please.”

You turned your head back to look at the man. Pulling your bottom lip between your teeth, an idea popped into your head. “Let’s take him with us.”

Jake stared at you like you’d lost your mind. “Take him with us? Are you nuts?!”

You looked up at him. “We can’t just leave him here!” Jake nodded his head before reaching down to grab you by the wrist and pull you up. “Yes,” he said, starting to drag you away. “We can!”

You pulled free from his grip. “I’m not leaving him,” you retorted, standing your ground.

Jake scoffed incredulously. “Where are you going to put him?” he asked.

“My parents and sister are leaving in the morning,” you replied. “They’ll be gone for a week.”

Jake shook his head, looking around the area. “I can not believe I’m hearing this,” he said, laughing nervously. “I can’t believe this.”

You sighed, crossing your arms over your chest. “Please, Jake,” you asked, forcing him to stop and look up at you. “For me, please?”

Jake sighed into a groan before throwing his hands up. “Fine,” he said. “But this is your mess. If the military comes bursting into your house, I’m not involved.”

You jumped up and down excitedly, throwing your arms around his neck and hugging him tightly.

“Thank you, thank you, thank you!” you said excitedly. Jake tried to keep a smile from forming. “Don’t thank me just yet,” he said as you both moved to the man.

Moving an unconscious body proved to be much more difficult than you thought and you were sure it had taken you and Jake hours to just get the body of the man out of the woods. In reality it had taken about thirty minutes. Once you’d put him in the back with the cooler, Jake drove around the house to the front door, parking as close to the porch as possible.

He got out and walked to the back as you ran up the steps and unlocked the door, opening and peering inside. The television was still on but your dad was passed out in his recliner. You pocketed your key and made your way back down the stairs to meet Jake.

“Dad’s in his recliner but he’s passed out,” Jake stared at you as you started to try and pull the man out by his boots. “I’m not sure this is a good idea,” he said softly. Maybe we should put him in the barn?”

You looked up at Jake and shook your head. “No,” you protested. “What if he wakes up and is scared and confused?” Jake stared at you incredulously. “This is an alien we’re talking about, Y/N.”

You shrugged. “So?” you asked. “He speaks English and displays intelligent behavior,” you replied. Jake gave you a deadpan stare. “Kicking his ship when his fitbit doesn’t work strikes you as intelligent behavior?” You rolled your eyes. “Whatever,” you retorted. “Just help me!”

Jake shut up and helped you pull the man out of the back of his jeep, taking his arms and head as you took his feet and started up the steps, trying to take it one step at a time while also trying to keep a firm grip on the man’s feet.

You managed to pull open the screen door but carrying the man over the threshold proved to be a chore. The screen door swung shut, slamming in its frame and causing both you and Jake to freeze and turn your heads to look into the living room.

Your father shifted in his recliner but continued to snore softly and you could have sighed a breath of relief only you couldn’t breathe properly. Carrying the man up the staircase was worse than carrying him out of the woods and by the time you reached your bedroom and deposited him on the bed, you were convinced you’d never have to hit the gym ever again.

“You’ve really lost it, you know?” Jake asked as he shut your bedroom door.

You waved him off, falling back onto your bed. “Just think of it,” you panted. “As a week’s worth of workouts,” you continued. “You’ll thank me later.” Jake rolled his eyes as you sat up. “You need anything else from me, you weirdo?” he asked. You shook your head. “No,” you replied.

Jake nodded. “Good. I’m out of here,” he said, turning and heading for the door.

You stopped him. “Can you bring me some of your brother’s clothes tomorrow morning?” you asked, holding your hands together. “Please? I don’t have anything that would fit him properly,” you added. Jake sighed dramatically. “Fine,” he answered. “I’ll bring something. Text me when your family leaves.”

You thanked him, pulling him into another hug and following him down the stairs to see him out.

“I’m serious though,” he added as he crossed the threshold.

“If the military comes looking for him or that craft,” he started. “I’m not involved. Make sure he’s okay and then send him on his way. You don’t want to get mixed up in this and I don’t want to see you get in trouble.” You smiled as he took your hand gently in his.

“I’ll be okay,” you replied. “Text me when you get home.”

Jake nodded, dropping your hand and heading down the steps to close the back of the jeep.

“I will! Try and get some sleep.”

You waved as he got into his car and started it, back up and waving at you once more before he pulled away.

You shut both doors, locking them and heading back upstairs, entering your room and locking it.

The man took up your whole bed so you’d have to sleep on the floor for the night. You pulled off your boots and grabbed a blanket and one of your pillows, throwing them both down before lying down and covering up with your blanket.

Sleep must have taken you quickly because you woke with a start, a dull light starting to filter into your room. You sat up quickly and saw the man was still passed out on your bed. You got up and rushed to your closet, pulling off your hoodie and changing quickly.

You could hear your sister in her room moving about. You didn’t mean to sleep this long but there was no going back. You pulled on a clean pair of sweats, pulling your shirt off and tossing it into the hamper before grabbing a clean shirt and pulling it on.

You moved into your bathroom, standing by the sink and turned on the faucet, splashing some cool water on your face before drying it and turning the water off.

Back in your room, you pushed your mud covered boots further into your closet and unlocked the door before opening it carefully and peeking out. You stepped out, shutting your door behind you and walked down the hall. At the top of the stairs you saw your parents luggage as well as your sister’s camping gear sitting by the door. You hurried down the steps and into the kitchen where your mother was preparing two travel mugs of coffee. Your sister was sitting at the kitchen island, checking her phone as she waited for her friends to come pick her up.

“Didn’t hear you come in last night,” your dad said from the dining table, reading something on his phone. “Got in kind of late,” you answered. “How was the shower?” your mother asked, looking up at you.

You turned your head towards her before remembering to speak.

“Oh! It was really cool. Apparently it was the largest in recorded history,” you said as you moved to stand beside your sister. “Really?” your mother asked as she screwed lids on the mugs. “I’m sorry I missed it,” she said softly. You forced a smile as she set the cups on the counter.

A sudden horn outside announced the arrival of your sister’s friends. “That’s Clara,” she said, getting up from her seat and slipping her phone in her vest pocket. Your mother moved around the counter to hug her. “Have a good time,” she said before letting go and it was your father’s turn to hug her.

“Behave yourself,” he said, giving her a smile. Your sister turned to you and held up her fist for you to bump. “See you later, Star Nerd,” she said with a smile. “Later sea squirt,” you replied as she moved to the door and opened it. Her friend, Clara, had sent her brother Luke to help your sister with her bags and gear. She gave one final wave before heading out the door.

“And then there were three,” your father said.

Your mother handed him one of the mugs. “We better get going too,” she announced. You tucked your hands in your pockets and watched as they headed for the door, following behind. Your father grabbed the bags and took them out to the car as you followed your mother out onto the porch.

It was a typical crisp fall morning, a thin layer of frost on the grass and breath hanging in the air.

“There’s some food in the fridge,” your mom said as your dad loaded the car. “But I’ve also left some money for delivery. Don’t throw any college parties,” she pleaded. You smiled as you pulled her into a hug. “Don’t worry mom. We don’t have a pool. No one is coming here for parties,” you joked.

“Come on, hon!” your father called. “We gotta go!”

Your mom gave you one final hug before hurrying down the steps and to the car. Your father waved to you as he opened the driver’s door and you waved back, watching as they got in and settled. The car backed up and you watched as they drove off and down the drive before turning onto the main road and disappearing from view.

“And then there were two,” you whispered to yourself as soon as the tail lights disappeared from view.

Once they were gone, you darted back inside, locking the doors and moving to unlock the back door before rushing upstairs to your room and opening the door. The man was still unconscious and you entered the room, closing the door behind you and moving to sit at your desk, turning the chair so you could keep an eye on the man.

You grabbed your phone from your desk where you left it and started typing a message to your best friend, hoping he was awake. He answered rather quickly, letting you know he was on his way.

You crossed your arms over your chest, trying to ignore the chill in the room. You decided to play on your phone, glancing up occasionally at the man sleeping in your bed. 

You kept calling him the man but you knew that wasn't entirely true. 

He was an alien. 

You weren't sure how much time had passed as you solved what felt like the hundredth sudoku puzzle when you heard the back door open and close. You stopped, listening as footsteps came up the steps, drawing closer and closer until there was a soft knock at your door. 

You watched as it slowly opened and the face of your best friend appeared. “Is he awake?” he asked softly. You shook your head,  turning your attention briefly to the alien before looking back at Jake. He opened the door fully, stepping in and handing you a cloth tote. Inside were some of his older brother's clothes. 

Sighing, you looked up and thanked him. He nodded, not taking his eyes off the alien.

“Now that I see him in the light,” he started. “He just looks like just some guy,” he continued. “Almost like he could go to our university.” You nodded wordlessly, looking at the alien.

“Yeah,” you said softly. “He definitely doesn’t look like an alien.”

You felt Jake tap your shoulder, making you glance up at him. “What?” you asked when you saw his expression. “Don’t,” Jake said in a low tone. You shrugged your shoulders as if to ask him ‘what’ but he went on. “Don’t pretend like he isn’t from here. He came out of a spaceship that looks way beyond our technologies,” he started to explain.

“He didn’t even know what Iowa was!”

You gave your best friend a skeptical expression. “Hardly anyone knows what Iowa is.”

Jake narrowed his eyes. “And besides, I thought you said it was military,” you added.

Jake shook his head. “Military would know Iowa,” he answered, only for you to shake your head this time. “What if he's from another country’s military?” Jake scoffed at this. “No other country has the advanced technology we have,” Jake retorted. This time you squinted at him.

“Then why does all our technology come from Asia?” you asked, raising a brow at him. You turned back to look at the man briefly and then back at Jake. “He looks pretty Asian to me.”

Jake opened his mouth to retort but only gasped, nudging you quickly as he stared at your bed.

You turned just in time to see the man’s eyes snap open and he sat up quickly. He caught sight of you and Jake and screamed. You fell off your chair, Jake falling into the closed door, caught off guard by the sudden noise. “What the fuck!” Jake cursed.

“Where the hell am I?” the man yelled, trying to scramble away, only to fall onto the other side of bed. Jake grabbed your hand and pulled you to your feet. The man’s head appeared at the foot of your bed, peeking over the top of the mattress.

“You’re in my room,” you replied softly, taking a tentative step forward, shaking off Jake as he tried to grab your arm. “Why?” the man asked, watching as you approached slowly, only the bed separating you. You glanced back at Jake who shook his head quickly. “Leave me out of this.”

You sighed and rolled your eyes before turning back to the man who turned his attention from your best friend to you, giving you a wary look as you reached the bed and sat down slowly, keeping your eyes on him. “Well,” you started, not sure how to explain it.

Deciding the easiest way was the truth, you went for it. “You kind of passed out.”

The man stared at you, his eyes briefly flickering over to Jake who nodded, arms crossed over his chest. “Yeah, it was weird,” Jake answered. “You got real still and then fell down.”

The man looked back at you, watching as you nodded. “Yeah, you seized up, your eyes rolled back, and then you fell to your knees and then onto your side.”

The man lowered his gaze to your floral sheets before looking back up to meet your gaze. In the daylight, you could see just how different his eyes were than yours. A range of hues, almost like a rainbow but they were milky, almost as if he might be partially blind.

If that was the case, there’s no way he would have been driving— flying that spacecraft… right?

“How did I get here?” he asked, seemingly accepting your answer.

“We brought you here,” you answered, gesturing to yourself and then to Jake.

“Yeah,” Jake added. “Carried you out of the woods and put you in the back of my Jeep.”

The man sat up a little straighter, tilting his head slightly.

“What’s a Jeep?”

You fought the urge to snicker but held it back. “It’s a car,” you explained. The man turned his gaze upon you this time. “A car?” he asked, seemingly confused. You nodded. “It’s like a land vehicle? It has wheels and you drive it with a steering wheel,” you said, doing the motions of holding and turning a steering wheel. The man watched in fascination before speaking again.

“Show me.”

You picked up your phone and the man sunk down until only his eyes were visible as you googled a picture of a Jeep Wrangler. You turned the device around and showed him. The man sat back up and leaned in to look at the image.

“Jeep,” he said again. You nodded with a smile. “That’s right,” you said. “Jeep.”

“Jeeeeeeeep,” he said, elongating the double E sound, making you giggle.

“And what’s this?” he asked, pointing at your phone. “Oh, it’s just a cell phone,” you answered. “It’s like a communication device.” The man lifted his hand and pulled back his sleeve, showing you the watch around his wrist. “Is that your communication device?” you asked.

He held his arm out towards you. You hesitantly took his hand in yours and inspected the device.

It looked a lot like a smart watch. It had a massive crack in the screen and you figured it must have been damaged in the crash. “Is it broken?” you asked as he took his hand back and inspected where his palm had made contact with your skin before looking up at you with those same colorful piercing eyes.

You noticed how the color seemed to surge in a ring-like pattern from time to time. ‘Perhaps in time with his heartbeat?’ you wondered. He nodded finally, glancing at his watch. “It’s damaged. Must have happened when I crashed my-” his eyes suddenly went wide and he gasped.

“My ship!” he yelled, looking up at you. “Where’s my ship?!”

You held up a hand to calm him. “It’s okay! It’s nearby in the woods on my property.”

“I need to see it,” he said, scrambling to his feet but suddenly he doubled over, groaning. You climbed across the bed and stood up next to him. “Whoa, slow down there,” you said as you took his arm gently and guided him to sit back down as he kept a hand on his side just above his hip.

You turned to Jake and pointed at the tote he’d brought. “Bring me that, please,” you said.

Jake bent down, grabbing the handles and brought it to the bed where he handed it to you before taking a few steps back, keeping his eyes on the man.

You started to sift through the bag, pulling out a pair of gray sweatpants and a gray shirt.

You set them aside and turned to the man. “I need to take a look at your stomach,” you said, making him glance up. “What?” he asked. You nodded to where his hand was clamped over his side. “I need to look. You could be really hurt.” The man looked up at you, eyeing you up.

“Are you a doctor?” he asked. Jake scoffed from his place by the door, shutting up when you shot daggers at him with a glare. You turned your attention back to the man. “I’m in school for medicine,” you said, failing to mention your area of focus was animals and not people.

The man finally relented and let out a shaky breath before reaching up to unzip the top of his flight suit, pulling it down and you tried not to look flustered as he shrugged out of it, showing off his toned torso. He pushed the material down to his waist and you leaned around to get a look at his side.

“Is it okay if I touch you?” you asked, glancing up at him. He nodded, watching your face as you moved to kneel on the floor and reach up, fingers brushing against his skin. You gently pressed and he drew in a sharp breath. You looked up, meeting his gaze and felt your cheeks and ears burn before looking back down.

“It’s definitely bruised,” you said, starting to inspect the area around it which didn’t seem to be as tender. “Were you wearing safety restraints or anything?” you asked as you continued to prod around. He nodded, looking down where your hands were against his skin.

“I always wear safety restraints. That ship flies at almost fifty thousand decameters per hour,” he replied with a slight smirk. You slowly raised your gaze to meet his. “Fifty thousand what?” you whispered. He tilted his head curiously. “Decameters,” he answered.

You glanced at Jake who had moved from the door to the hall to the door to your bathroom.

“What the fuck is a decameter?” he asked, looking at the man.

“It sounds like ten meters,” you answered for the man. “Deca is the prefix that means ten,” you added, looking up at Jake who shook his head. “I’m not asking you, Y/N, I’m asking him.”

The man turned his head to look at Jake who took a step back upon seeing the man’s eyes for the first time. “She’s right,” he answered. “A decameter is ten meters.”

“Then why not say ten meters? Why even use decameters?” Jake asked, sounding annoyed. “Sounds like you’re overcomplicating things.”

“In my society, we measure everything in intervals of ten,” the man answered. “Sounds dumb,” Jake murmured, causing you to glare at him but the man smiled. “Sounds stupid?” he asked, drawing your best friend’s attention.

“Tell me,” the man said, turning his head again to face Jake. “Does a ship that travels at five-hundred thousand meters per hour sound like it was made by someone who was ‘stupid?’”

Your lips parted as the man spoke. ‘Five-hundred thousand meters per hour? Is that even possible?’

Jake looked even more shocked than you felt and the man knew it. He let out a little chuckle as he turned away from your best friend back to face you. “That’s what I thought,” he said softly.

You withdrew your hands from his body. “It doesn’t seem like there’s any internal bleeding,” you said, looking up to meet his eyes. “But that needs some attention,” you pointed at his shoulder where there was a decent size cut.

He looked at his shoulder and huffed. “Wonder when that happened,” he murmured as you got up and leaned in to look at his wound. “Maybe when you crashed? Might have cut it on something?” you suggested. The man shrugged. “Perhaps,” he answered.

“I’ll be right back,” you said softly and started to walk to the door. Jake’s hand wrapped around your wrist stopped you as you reached for the door. “Where are you going?” he hissed. “I’m getting the first aid kit,” you answered, glancing back at the man as he sat calmly on your bed.

“I’m coming with you,” Jake hissed but you pushed him back. “I won’t be long,” you said. “Just keep an eye on him,” you added with a nod towards the man. Jake shook his head. “No freaking way,” he whispered. “I’m not on babysitting duty!”

Before you could respond, the man spoke up.

“I’m not going to kill you,” he said, making you and Jake look over. He was turned on the bed, looking over his shoulder at the both of you. “If my presence makes you that uncomfortable, you can go get the first aid kit and Y/N can stay here to ‘keep an eye on’ me,” he said with a smirk.

The wink he sent your way didn’t go unnoticed by either you or your best friend. Jake frowned, letting go of your wrist. “Just hurry up, yeah?” he said, glancing at you before moving to stand by the bathroom door. You nodded and opened your door.

Like you had said, you were back in a couple minutes at most, the kit in your hand as you entered the room. The man had moved, sitting on the other side of the bed facing the door instead. “Welcome back,” he said jokingly as you entered, making you smile before you shut the door and walked over, sitting beside him and opening the case.

Jake watched as both you and the man looked down at the case. “Alright,” you said, taking a deep breath. “Let’s take a closer look at this,” you said looking up. “Jake, can you turn on the light, please?”

Your best friend moved to the door, flipping the switch without a word. You thanked him and turned your focus back on the man’s shoulder. It was a pretty large gash but nothing was protruding nor could you see any muscle underneath which you felt was a good sign. It might still need stitches.

You grabbed the blue gloves and pulled them on before picking up an alcohol prep pad and tore open the packet. “This might sting,” you said, looking up. The man simply smiled and nodded. You started to carefully wipe around the edge of the gash.

Jake had crept closer to get a better look at what you were doing.

Once you’d cleaned the outside of the gash, you inspected the inside closer. “It looks like there’s some fibers from your suit in the wound,” you said softly. “I’m going to need to flush it,” you said, meeting his gaze again. He kept smiling at you and nodded.

“Just do whatever you need to do.”

You picked up the small bottle of saline and grabbed a dry cotton pad. “This might-”

“It won’t,” the man interrupted. “Sting. It won’t sting,” he clarified. You nodded and looked back down at his wound, trying not to focus on the hammering of your heart in your chest.

You had been so mesmerized by his eyes earlier that you hadn’t noticed exactly how handsome he was and now that his face was so close to yours, it was hard not to notice.

You tipped the bottle over and squeezed some of the liquid into the wound and watched as the fibers and blood washed out and started staining the cotton pad. A couple more squeezes and you were able to get the wound clean.

Now that you could see it better, you could see that he would need stitches after all. 

You clicked your tongue in annoyance. “Shit,” you whispered.

“That doesn’t sound good,” the man said, watching your face. You looked up and sighed. “You’re going to need stitches,” you replied. “I have the materials,” you answered. “ But I don’t have any anesthesia,” you explained. The man nodded, glancing down at his shoulder.

“What about the stuff your dad uses on the cows?” Jake asked. You rolled your eyes at him. “That’s for cows, Jake. You can’t use that on people,” you explained. “But-” you shot Jake a glare, effectively silencing him. “I don’t think taking you to the hospital will be beneficial,” you continued.

The man smiled. “No,” he answered. “It would only cause problems,” he added. “It’s alright, just do the procedure.” Your eyes shot up at his suggestion.

“Y-you want me to do stitches on you without anesthesia?” you asked, not sure if your ears were working properly. ‘There’s no way he just said that.’

The man nodded. “Yes,” he replied. “It’s not going to be an issue for me. My pain tolerance is extremely high,” he explained. “Just do it please.”

You stared at him for a moment longer before nodding slowly. “O-okay,” you whispered.

“Okay, I’m out,” Jake announced. “I’m not watching you stick a needle and thread in his skin over and over. I’ll be downstairs,” he added, heading for the door, opening it and disappearing as he closed it, leaving you and the man alone.

The man looked at you with a smile. “And then there were two,” he said softly.

You gathered the suture and needle. “Are you sure about this?” you asked as you threaded the needle.

The man nodded as you moved into position. “My sutures aren’t perfect,” you continued. “But they’ll do the job.” The man smiled as you shook your hands before bringing your hand closer to his skin.

“It’s okay,” he said softly. “I trust you.”

Relief flooded your body as he uttered those words and you got to work, carefully stitching and tying off the suture as you sewed his skin back together. Your stitches weren’t perfect but they weren’t awful. As you finished the final suture, you set the needle and thread down and picked up another cotton pad and saline to clean the newly formed blood before picking up some antiseptic and covered the wound with it before finally covering it all with a large bandage.

“So,” you said softly. “What’s your name?” you asked, glancing up at him. You would never get used to those eyes. There was no way.

“Minho,” he finally answered, drawing you from your thoughts. “I’m Minho.”

You smiled at him. “And you’re Y/N?” he continued. You nodded excitedly. “And that man,” he added, nodding towards the door. “Jake? Is he your… boyfriend?”

You snorted, shaking your head. “No. Just my dumb best friend.”

Minho tilted his head. “What’s a best friend?”

You reached up to scratch your forehead. “You know what a friend is?” you asked, hoping he did. He nodded. “It’s that but the one you spend the most time with. Your favorite one. The one who knows everything about you and you know everything about them,” you explained.

“The one that no matter what, will always be there for you,” you continued, hoping Minho understood.

He nodded and smiled. “So best friend, not boyfriend.”

“Exactly,” you answered with a smile of your own.

Minho looked up as you removed your gloves and gathered all the used supplies to toss in your desk waste bin. As you returned to his side and packed away the rest of the supplies, he gently took your hand, making you look at him. He stared up at you with those bright eyes before his lips parted.

“Thank you,” he said softly. You offered him a kind smile. “It’s no trouble,” you replied as you closed the kit and latched it. “I may not be great at sutures yet,” you continued. “But I’m pretty decent at sewing. Maybe I could stitch that up for you as well?”

You pointed at the hole in his flight suit as he was pulling it back on. Minho glanced down at it. “Well shit,” he murmured. “That would explain the cut.” You held back a chuckle. “Are you going to sew it while it’s on me?” he asked, looking up. You shook your head before leaning across your bed and grabbed the clothes. “You can change into these,” you explained.

“And I’m sure you’ll want to take a shower. Clean up while you’re at it,” you added.

Minho nodded, grabbing the clothes from you and stood up. He wasn’t huge, probably about average human male height, even with the thick sole boots he wore. “Where can I… shower?” he asked, hesitating. You led him over to the bathroom door and turned on the light. “In here,” you answered.

You moved to the shower, pulling the rolling door aside and leaned in, turning on the stream and setting it to hot. “You can use this dial to adjust the temperature,” you explained, pointing to the handle. “And then to shut it off,” you continued and turned the handle back to the right until it pointed down.

“All the way down to the right,” you explained, looking back at Minho who was watching you with rapt attention. “There are towels in here,” you moved over to the small linen closet and opened it, grabbing a towel and handing it to him before shutting the door.

“And there’s plenty of soaps in here,” you continued, pointing at the soaps, shampoo and conditioner. “This one is for your body,” you said, pointing to the body wash. “And this is for hair,” you pointed to another bottle. “What that one?” Minho asked, pointing at the conditioner. “That’s to make your hair soft. You use it after you wash and rinse your hair,” you explained.

“And that?” he asked, pointing at your shaving cream. “Don’t worry about that,” you answered. “That’s not something you’ll need to use. Just stick with the body wash and shampoo. That’s all you should need.”

Minho nodded as you moved back to the linen closet and grabbed a washcloth and handed it to him. “That’s a washcloth,” you explained. “You use this to wash your body with the body wash. Keep this towel out of the water. You want this one dry,” you added, pointing to the towel.

You took the towel and clothes from him, setting them on the sink counter. “Just take that in there. Take off your suit and when you get in the shower, I’ll grab it and stitch up that tear in the shoulder,” you continued and moved to the door. “If you need anything, just call and I’ll see if I can help.”

You gave him a parting smile and exited, shutting the door behind you.

While waiting for the sound of the shower, you set up your sewing machine, filling a bobbin with a dark gray thread, hoping it would match.

Once you heard the shower turn on, you walked over to the door and knocked. “I’m coming in now. I won’t look at you I promise,” you announced, taking the handle and turning it. You peered in and saw the suit folded and set neatly on the counter. You stepped in and grabbed it, making sure not to look at Minho in the shower.

You exited the bathroom, shutting the door and moved over to your sewing table.

Sewing up the tear was much easier than performing surgery on Minho and once you were done, you admired your handiwork. The shower shut off in the bathroom and you decided you’d throw the suit in the wash to get some of the dirt stains out.

You hurried down the steps where Jake was sitting in the living room, watching TV. He looked up as you walked in. “Well?” he asked. “He just took a shower. His stitches are fine. I’m just throwing this in the wash for him,” you said, holding up the suit.

Jake rolled his eyes and turned back to the show he was watching.

Once you’d started the wash you walked back into the living room, placing your hands on the back of the sofa next to your best friend’s shoulder. “His name is Minho,” you said, drawing his attention. “Really?” he asked, looking up at you.

Nodding, you stood up straight. “Yep,” you replied. 

“And how do you know that?” Jake asked as you walked towards the stairs. “I asked!” you answered before starting back up the steps and down the hall to your room. The bathroom door was open and Minho was standing in the middle of your room, using the towel to dry his damp hair.

He pulled on the clothes you’d given him and you were pleased that they fit him so well.

He glanced up as you entered. “Are you hungry?” you asked. He hesitated, blinking a couple times before nodding. “Actually,” he said softly. “I’m ravenous.”

You led Minho down to the living area where Jake was still watching TV. Minho stopped behind the couch, eyes fixated on the television. You gently grabbed his wrist and dragged him into the kitchen, gesturing for him to sit at the kitchen island.

You moved to the fridge and opened it, peering inside. “Is there anything you don’t eat?” you asked, peering over your shoulder. “Anything you’re allergic to?”

You heard Jake scoff from the living room. “He’s an alien, Y/N. They don’t have allergies.”

You chastised Jake for being rude but Minho merely smiled. “No,” he answered politely. “No allergies. But I’m not overly fond of green peppers,” he added. You smiled and turned back to the fridge, grabbing the eggs, some bacon, and the steaks your mother had meant to have ready for your dad to grill the other night. ‘She won’t miss these. I’ll replace them if I have to.’

You set all your findings on the counter and opened a drawer to pull out a couple pans.

Once the skillets were heated up, you put the steaks in one and started the bacon in another. At the first sizzle of food, Jake had wandered into the kitchen and was looking hopefully at the food in the skillets. “Is that just for him or for everyone?” he asked.

You snickered and nodded. “I’m not making four t-bone steaks for one person,” you replied.

With that, you glanced up at Minho. “How many eggs do you want?” He tilted his head curiously. You picked up an egg to show him. “Do you eat them like that?” he asked, genuinely curious but his question made Jake burst into laughter as he moved to stand beside you.

You slapped his arm. “Stop being so rude!” You turned to Minho. “No,” you answered. “I’ll crack the egg and fry the insides,” you explained. Minho nodded and looked from the egg in your hands to the rest in the holder. “Five,” he finally said, catching both you and Jake off guard.

Jake was the first to break the awkward silence that ensued. “You can’t seriously believe you can eat five fried eggs and one of these steaks and bacon,” he stated. Minho’s smile turned into a smirk.

“Watch me.”

Thirty minutes later, you sat sipping on your coffee, musing over the look of shock on your best friend’s face. You both had one steak a piece. You’d made eight fried eggs total, five of them for Minho as well as a third of a pound of bacon. You’d eaten one egg and two slices of bacon with your steak, Jake had put away two eggs with his steak and three pieces of bacon.

Minho, on the other hand, had managed to consume two steaks, five eggs, and the rest of the bacon.

Jake watched with a mixture of shock, jealousy, and respect as Minho downed the rest of the second steak and the rest of his water. “I sit corrected,” Jake said softly, looking from the alien to you and back. Minho smiled at the both of you before he picked up his napkin and wiped his mouth.

“Now,” he said matter-of-factly. “Where’s my ship?”

You grabbed a jacket and one of the sweatshirts Jake brought over for Minho before letting him borrow some of your dad’s socks and shoes.

He sat in the back of the Jeep as you got in the front with Jake.

The drive to the woods wasn’t long but it was preferable to walking. Once Jake parked the car, Minho hopped out of the back and moved to your door as you opened it. He offered his hand to help you down, offering a wink as you looked up at him breathlessly.

“It’s, uh, this way,” you said, pointing and then leading the way towards the woods.

During the day, the walk took far less time and as the three of you scrambled over the ridge, the ship came into view and Minho cursed softly, carefully making his way down the slope with you and Jake reluctantly in tow.

You watched as he walked around the ship slowly, taking note of the condition before he headed for the open door and started inside. You followed, ignoring Jake’s warnings and peered into the open doorway. Minho was inside, sitting in a seat and flipping various switches.

He was murmuring and muttering under his breath as he tried to get some sort of response.

The console of the ship looked trashed, broken with wires sticking out everywhere.

Minho turned to look behind him before getting up and disappearing behind a wall. You grabbed onto a bar and started to pull yourself in. You reached the seat and craned your neck to see into the back. There was a small hallway leading through the ship to a wall with a door.

Minho was crouched in the middle of the hall, a floor panel in his hands as he inspected whatever mechanical that lay underneath. You looked around again and noticed that he had multiple monitors around the console. Silver embossed letters at the bottom read ‘S.T.A.N.’

‘Stan?’ you wondered to yourself as Minho cursed again, tossing the floor grate down and running his fingers through his hair. You felt your heart tug at his anguish.

“Is it totaled?” you asked, causing him to jump slightly. He turned to look behind at you before standing up and making his way back. “What’s totaled?” he asked as he reached the cockpit. “It’s like when you crash a car and the insurance company calculates the damage and decides it would cost more to fix than replace so they total it,” you explained.

Minho’s lips curled into a smirk. He shook his head. “No,” he said softly, one hand on his hip and his forearm resting on the back of the seat. “It’s not beyond repair,” he added. “I just need tools and a place to store it while I work on it. These conditions aren’t exactly ideal,” he continued.

You hesitated as you wracked your brain. An idea hit you suddenly. You brightened up and held up your index finger. “One second,” you said and hurried out of the ship, dropping to the ground. Jake started forward and started looking you over. “Are you alright?” he asked but you dismissed his concern.

“Does Julia still work for Ted?” Jake looked confused but nodded slowly.

“You think she could call in a favor?”

“Y/N,” Jake started but you interrupted him. “Just answer the question, Jake, please.”

He shrugged. “Yeah, I guess so. Ted owes her for covering his ass several times. A smile formed on your face. “Call your sister. We need those favors.”

It turned out that Ted, one of the farmers who owned an auto body shop in town, owed Julie several favors and she cashed in three of them on your behalf. You were almost beside yourself when a flatbed with an excavator and small crane pulled into your driveway. You waved and guided Ted to the old path into the forest.

He used the excavator to clear a path in the direction you led before moving the excavator back outside the forest and driving the crane into the forest. Upon seeing the craft, Ted was both shocked and also in awe at the sight. Julia had bought his silence with another one of her favors.

Ted was a professional, leaving the crane in place and walking back to get the flatbed and backing it up to the ship. Minho helped secure the bands and chains, careful not to cause any further damage before Ted used the crane to lift it.

Surprisingly, the ship lifted with no problem. Ted placed it onto the flatbed and once it was strapped down, he drove the flatbed out and Jake guided him to the barn, pushing the doors open and having him back it up.

You were lucky that your uncle had briefly ran a mechanic shop out of the barn until he left town so there was a lift and using the crane, Ted managed to secure the ship on the lift. Afterwards, Ted packed up his gear and with one final promise to never say another word about it, Ted and Julia left your family’s property, leaving you, Jake, and Minho behind.

You smiled triumphantly and even Jake couldn’t fault you for your cunning, knowing Ted would never break a promise made to Julia after she caught him doing things he wasn’t supposed to be doing on the job. 

Jake took his leave next and then it was just you and Minho.

You showed him where your father kept his tools and once the tour of the barn was over, you stood in the doorway of the barn with Minho, looking up at the gray sky.

“I think it’s going to rain,” you murmured. Minho looked from the sky to you. “Do you not like the rain?” he asked. You shook your head. “I like it when the sky is clear,” you answered. “I prefer it when I can see the stars.” Minho smiled and looked back up at the sky.

A soft meow caught both your attention and you glanced down to see one of the gray barn cats rubbing against Minho’s leg. “Sorry,” you said, moving to pick up the cat. Minho smiled and reached a hand up for the cat to sniff before petting it, even scratching it under the chin.

The cat purred in your arms at the affection before struggling against your hold and you let it jump from your arms onto a stack of hay next to the door. “Come on,” you said softly, gesturing to Minho. “Let’s get inside before the storm comes in.”

Minho looked up as you shut the barn doors, securing them and started for the house with him on your heels. “Storm?” he asked and you nodded. “Yeah,” you replied. “A thunderstorm is coming,” you added. “How can you tell?” he asked. You chuckled as you climbed the steps to the door and opened it.

“Because I’m from the midwest.”

Your intuition was spot on and by the time dinner rolled around, a storm had blown in. Most of it was wind, lightning and thunder so you used some of the money your mother had left to order pizza for delivery. You chose to get two pizzas just in case.

You sat on the couch with Minho, eating pizza and watching a movie. You decided to let him pick something based on the title and cover and unsurprisingly, he picked Alien and you had to try to keep your laughter in as you started the movie.

Minho watched with great fascination as the characters experienced misfortune after misfortune and as the titular antagonist appeared on screen, his rainbow eyes wide with rapt attention.

“It’s probably highly inaccurate,” you finally said as the creature on screen stalked Ripley through the cargo bay. Minho shook his head. “No actually, it’s not far off,” he answered, making you cough as you choked on your soda.

“Wh-what?” you stammered. He turned to look at you. “What?” he asked, a smirk forming on his face. “You think all aliens look this good?” he asked jokingly. You swallowed thickly, eyes returning to the screen. “So there are… aliens like that out there?” you asked softly.

Minho leaned against the back of the couch, resting his arm behind you. “Oh yeah,” he replied. You turned to look back at him, eyes wide with shock. “Even the acid blood?” you asked, your voice barely above a whisper.

Minho nodded slowly, the light from the television illuminating one side of his face. You couldn’t be sure but it almost looked like his eyes dipped down to look at your lips but as quickly as you thought you saw, his eyes were looking back into yours.

“And the d-double jaws?” you asked. Minho nodded again. “Even down to the parasitic nature. The creatures that implant an embryo in your stomach and then it erupts from your body,” he said quietly, moving his hand up to place his palm against your chest, against your heart.

“From right here,” he continued.

Embarrassingly, your heart rate sped up and you knew by the look on his face that he felt it.

“Does that scare you?” he asked softly. You shook your head, trying to be brave. In truth, the thought terrified you. That there were parasitic, intelligent, lifeforms out there in the universe like the Xenomorph.

“What if I told you that my race is like that?” he asked suddenly, face void of any emotion.

Your blood ran cold and your stomach dropped. ‘What have you done, you idiot?’ Jake’s voice came to mind, chastising you for being so dumb. Trusting an alien. How stupid could you be?

You gulped, your fear showing on your face as Minho leaned even closer. His lips parted but before he could say or do anything, a clap of thunder caught you off guard and you jumped. Minho let out a chuckle as he pulled back.

“I’m just messing with you,” he said, cracking a huge grin. You stared at him incredulously.

“Wait, seriously?” He nodded, still laughing. “At most, a parasitic life form will give you the stomach flu or something similar,” he explained. “In all my years of schooling, we never learned about any life forms like that. The most dangerous alien lifeform is bacteria,” he continued, grabbing his can of soda and downing the rest.

You studied him as he set the can down and turned his attention back to the television. You finally did the same as the movie ended, Ripley’s log playing over a starry background before the credits started to roll. You picked up the remote and stopped the movie before turning the tv off and reaching beside you to turn on the lamp on the side table.

You cleaned up and made sure the house was locked, checking out the backdoor that the animals had gone into their barn before calling the dogs in and putting them in your parents’ bedroom.

Back in the living room, Minho was standing at the front door, peering outside. You walked up next to him and he turned his head to look at you, smiling at you and watching as you locked the storm door before backing up and grabbing the main door and shutting it and locking it, turning off the porch light.

“What about the cats?” he asked softly as you headed to turn off the lamp.

“They’ll be okay,” you answered. “They stay mostly in the barn,” you continued.

“We can check on them in the morning, if you’d like,” you added as you joined him by the stairs and turning off the overhead light and turning on the light at the top of the stairs.

Minho climbed the steps behind you as you led him to the guest room and showed him around. “I’m just down the hall,” you continued, moving to stand by the door. “I’ll see you in the morning,” you added, shooting him a smile.

As you started to close the door, he called out to you, forcing you to open the door and peer in. “Leave the door open, please?” he asked as he sat on the bed, bedside lamp on. You nodded and left the door cracked open before walking down the hall to your own room, closing the door behind you and finally changing into your pajamas and climbing into your bed.

It had been a long and busy day and almost as soon as you were under the covers, you were out.

It only took you a few days to get used to having Minho around. You had told him he only had a week to get his ship fixed and get out of there before your family returned. Jake came by to keep you company but quickly grew annoyed with Minho’s presence and would leave after only an hour.

You went about your daily chores, feeding and taking care of the animals while Minho worked on his ship. You checked in from time to time, bringing him water or food whenever the time struck. He could still put back a lot of food and you would have to make a note to make a trip to the grocery store before your family returned home.

“Lunch time!” you called as you pushed open the door and peered in. Minho was leaning against the work table, holding one of the cats in his arms as he scratched its head and cooed at it. You smiled as you walked further into the barn holding a plate with a stack of sandwiches and a large bottle of water.

Minho glanced up from the cat and smiled as you approached, setting the bottle of water and plate on the table next to him. The cat in his arms leapt gracefully to the floor and trotted off as Minho brushed his hands off and picked up one of the sandwiches.

He took a bite, munching happily as you walked over to the ship, looking at it as you walked around it.

“It doesn’t look like there was much damage on the outside,” you noted as you rounded towards the back of the ship. Minho spoke a moment later. “No,” he answered. “Most of the damage is internal.” You said nothing as you rounded the front and he came back into view. Two of the sandwiches were now gone. “Speaking of,” you said, walking over to his side.

“Let me have a look at that bruise,” you continued, nodding at his side.

Minho lifted his arm but continued eating his sandwich as your fingers worked to untuck the shirt he wore.

Jake had brought over some more of his brother’s old clothes. Mostly tee shirts, jeans, sweats, and a few jackets. The weather had taken a turn and it was getting colder during the days now. Minho had chosen a white tee with a small red logo on a pocket on the right side of the chest. The jeans were just plain light denim and he’d also started to use the belts Jake included for some reason. 

You lowered your gaze to his side and gently prodded the spot that had been so tender a couple days prior. Minho didn’t wince and the skin didn’t look discolored. You glanced up to find him already looking at you, watching your face as you inspected him. “It doesn’t hurt?” you asked, pressing your fingers against his side. He shook his head.

“There’s no discoloration either,” you added, dropping the shirt. He smiled at you before swallowing the food in his mouth. “My body reabsorbs blood that doesn’t make it outside the body,” he said, chuckling when he noticed your shocked expression. “I’m like you but more advanced,” he added.

He finished his fourth sandwich and grabbed the last one. Five seemed to be his number, a small detail you noticed. Five eggs, five sandwiches. “These are good,” he said, holding the sandwich up before taking a bite. “What’s inside?” he asked, pulling back the bread a little to look at the filling.

“Egg salad,” you answered as you moved back around to pick up the empty plate. Minho reached out and gently grabbed your wrist. “Leave it,” he said softly. “I’ll bring it in later.”

You smiled but shook your head. “It’s fine,” you answered, picking up the plate and pulling from his hold. “I’m used to cleaning up.” As you started to walk away, Minho called out to you.

You turned back to look at him as you reached the door. “Will you come back when you’re done?” he asked and you smiled back at him. “If you’d like me to.” He nodded slowly. “I’d like that a lot,” he replied. Your cheeks burned and you nodded back to show you understood.

“I’ll be right back then.”

Outside the barn a gray overcast had started to fill the sky. More clouds and rain were in the forecast tonight but nothing like the storms from the other night.

You took the plate to the kitchen and set it in the sink, placing your hands on the counters and stared down at the white ceramic. ‘Stop it,’ you told yourself sternly. ‘He’s an alien. He’s not human. You can’t keep feeling this way.’

Trying to tell your heart to calm down was easier said than done and you would come to find it harder and harder the more time you spent with Minho. 

As promised, you returned to the barn and kept him company while he worked, sitting cross-legged on one of the square bales of hay while he worked under the ship, reaching through an open panel and reattached wires.

“So,” you said softly as one of the barn cats came out from hiding to crawl into your lap where it was warm. You petted the animal, looking back up at Minho. “Where are you from?” you asked, drawing his attention. He managed to hook a few more wires before pushing his hair back and turning to face you.

“Somewhere really far away from here,” he answered. You fixed him with a grimace. “I know that,” you replied. “But where is that?” Minho chuckled as he moved around the lift holding his ship and walked over to sit next to you, reaching a hand out to pet the cat as it purred and snuggled up in your lap.

“Did you know the universe is split into quadrants?” he asked softly, not looking up to meet your gaze. You looked at his face, his rainbow eyes fixated on the furry creature in your lap. “Like in Star Trek?” you asked before remembering he didn’t know what that was. “Sorry, it’s a-”

“I know what Star Trek is,” he said softly, glancing up to meet your gaze. “It’s a television show from the late nineteen-sixties, right?” You nodded slowly, watching as a grin spread across his face. “You’d be surprised at the reception we get back home,” he said simply.

You waited for him to continue but when he didn’t you spoke again.

“Where is home?”

Minho stopped petting the cat and looked up to meet your gaze once more.

“So, like I said, the universe is split into quadrants. Your galaxy is located on the edge of the Alpha Quadrant,” he explained. “My galaxy is located somewhere in the Delta Quadrant.”

You listened as he explained the quadrants and their structure before moving onto his galaxy. His home world was located one of six arms of a spiral galaxy, a lot like the Milky Way. “And in the third arm, is my solar system,” he continued. “The Chronos-Demos System,” your eyes were shining as he explained and he found it so endearing.

“Chronos-Demos?” you asked, tilting your head. This was more information that you could have ever hoped to learn. Minho was from an entirely different galaxy, millions of lightyears away from Earth. He’d seen things you could only dream of.

“It’s a two star system,” he explained. “Much like Proxima Centauri. We have two suns,” he explained. Your lips parted in awe as he spoke. “Here,” he said, getting up. “I’ll be right back.”

You watched as he walked over to the ship and pulled himself up, disappearing into the open door. You could faintly hear him moving about before he reappeared and dropped down, carrying some sort of tablet as he returned and took a seat beside you.

He tapped on the screen and it came to life. He started to tap around, pulling up a map and turned the tablet so you could see.

On the screen was a diagram, much like the ones you’d seen in science books when you learned about the Solar System as a child.

On one end was a large yellow sphere, solar flares shooting out from the surface. On the opposite side was an equally large red sphere, also with flames flickering from the surface. “Chronos is a class G star, a lot like Sol,” he explained before you held up a hand to stop him.

“Sol?” you asked, looking at his face. He smiled and nodded. “Your star,” he started. “You mean the Sun?” you asked and he nodded.

“In my society, your star system is called the Sol System. Sol means Sun in Latin.”

You nodded. “Okay,” you said softly as you started to follow along. “Sorry for interrupting.”

Minho smiled and went back to explaining the diagram.

“The red red star is Demos Gnu and is a class M star. I think your race calls it a ‘red dwarf,’” he said, glancing up as you nodded. “Yeah, that’s the common name but scientifically it’s a type m star,” you replied. “It has a smaller light field but produces more radiation,” you replied. Minho nodded, with a smile. “You know your stars,” he said, sounding impressed.

“My mother taught me,” you explained, a surge of pride filling your chest.

Minho continued, zooming in on the diagram.

“This little purple planet is Ahcar-3,” he said. “It’s very close to Chronos and has no life on it. It also doesn’t have a moon. This one,” he continued, moving the screen until a pink and purple planet with rings came into view with two moons. “This is Ninsa,” he said, a hint of pride in his voice.

“This,” he said, looking up to meet your gaze. “Is my home.”

You leaned closer to get a better look. It was a beautiful planet. The surface was a swirl of light pink and purple and the rings, all five of them were a darker purple. The moons were relatively small compared to the planet, one was white and the other reddish.

“Why is one of the moons red?” you asked, looking up at the alien. He smiled and pulled the tablet back to zoom in further on the red moon. “That’s Ta,” he explained. “It’s a mining location and it’s extremely rich in iron ore,” he explained. “The soil has a lot of ferric oxide in it, a lot like Sol IV,” he said.

“Sol IV?”

Minho smiled again, setting the tablet down. “Your system, Sol, is home to ten planetary objects. Sol I, is the first one from the sun,” he explained. “Mercury,” you replied. “We call it Mercury.” He nodded. “So then Sol II is Venus?” you asked and he nodded again. “So then Earth is Sol III and Mars is Sol IV?” Minho nodded again. “Exactly,” he answered.

“So Ta is like Mars because of all the ferric oxide?” you asked, clarifying and Minho nodded again. “Precisely,” he answered before picking up the tablet again and moving the screen. The next image you saw was two planets close together. “These are the Twins, Abo Phi,” he said, pointing to the yellow one. “And Boa Phi,” he continued, pointing at the orange one. “They orbit each other as they orbit the sun and they have one moon, Odomin,” he said, pointing to the small yellow moon.

“Does anyone live there?” you asked and he shook his head. “The government of Ninsa thought about colonizing but the likelihood of the two planets colliding either with one another or their moon is too great of a risk,” he explained. We’ve sent missions and studied them extensively so we know that nothing lives there,” he continued, scrolling to the next planet.

“This one is Averlent,” he said, showing you a turquoise and blue planet. “It’s the only successful colonization project we’ve had. It was colonized over ten thousand years ago,” he explained. “So she has a thriving metropolis and more settlements have popped up. Her moon is Horim, which is a tropical world and a very popular vacation spot,” Minho explained with a smile.

“Have you been there?” you asked looking up. He nodded. “I went there with my family last season,” he answered. “Our winters on Ninsa, especially where I live, are particularly harsh. So my family spent the winter on Horim.” You smiled, imagining Minho lounging on an otherworldly beach on the moon.

“That’s so cool,” you whispered. Minho chuckled and scrolled to the next planet. You had to keep from snorting when you saw it. It was a green and oval shaped planet with a darker green and just as oval moon. “This is Planet 9,” he explained. “No one knows why it’s called that,” he added. “This system has six planets.” You finally let out the laugh you’d been holding in.

“It’s the furthest from Chronos and the closest to Demos,” he explained. “You’ve probably noticed it’s not round like the others,” he continued. You nodded. “Is it spinning really fast on its axis?” you asked and Minho nodded. “Yes, and so is its moon, 1.43-C.” You laughed again, sitting up. “Reminds me of Haumea,” you noted as Minho shut off the screen.

“I think I saw that on my way into your system,” Minho replied.

You glanced down at the tablet. “Do you have any pictures of your home world?” you asked, Minho blinked at you before picking up the tablet and turning it back on. He tapped on the screen a few times before turning the screen towards you.

“This is the capital, Ninsa Prime,” he explained, showing you several pictures of a vast sprawling metropolis with high rises taller than you’d ever seen. “This is where I live,” he added as he continued to scroll through the images.

“Do you work there too?” you asked, looking up at him. He nodded, turning off the tablet. “Mostly,” he added. “I’m an aerospace engineer,” he continued. “Which is why I’m confident in my abilities to fix this ship,” he added, gesturing to the craft.

“I should probably let you get back to that,” you murmured, looking down at the cat still sleeping in your lap. Minho reached out, his knuckle gently lifting your chin and forcing you to look up at him. “I don’t mind the distraction,” he said with a smile before he finally got up and headed back towards the ship.

The rest of the day passed in a blur. You kept him company until the sun started to set and you got up to finish your chores. A light drizzle had settled in by the time Minho had finished for the day and came inside the house. He had gone up to shower while you fixed dinner when there was a knock at the door.

You walked over and peered outside. Jake was standing on your porch dressed in a zip up pullover, jeans, boots, and a baseball cap on his head. You unlocked and opened the door, smiling when your best friend turned to look at you. “Hey,” he said, opening the screen door.

You stepped back to let him in. “Something smells good,” he noted as he looked around.

“Where’s ET?” he asked and your smile fell. “Will you stop that?” you asked exasperatedly, moving around him and walking back to the kitchen with your best friend in tow. “It’s a joke, Y/N,” Jake said. “Lighten up a little.” You shot him a glare as you resumed stirring your sauce.

“What are you making?” he asked, looking at the stove.

“Tuscan chicken,” you answered as you added some pepper to the sauce. “He’s still eating half your kitchen?” Jake asked, noticing the grocery bags behind you. Nodding you looked up as footsteps announced the arrival of Minho who had showered and changed.

Jake and Minho locked eyes and Jake visibly stiffened as Minho’s expression went blank before walking over and taking a seat at the kitchen island. Jake moved around to stand next to you. “Well, it smells good anyway,” he said, leaning in to whisper in your ear before turning to open the fridge.

“What are you looking for?” you asked, glancing over your shoulder. “Where does your dad keep his beer?” your best friend asked. “In the fridge in the garage but if you drink it, you’re replacing it. I’ve already replaced a bunch of groceries.” Jake saluted as he shrugged off his jacket, slinging it on the back of one of the dining chairs as he made his way to the garage.

“Aye, aye captain!”

You rolled your eyes and turned back to find Minho already watching you.

“Why do you let him talk to you like that?” Minho asked softly. You froze and looked back up at him.

“L-like what?” you asked. “Like he owns you,” Minho continued. You shook your head. “It’s not like that,” you replied. “Jake is just… casual,” you said, trying to find the right word to describe your best friend. Minho narrowed his eyes as Jake returned but said nothing else.

Dinner was an awkward affair with you sitting at the end of the table with Minho to your left and Jake to your right across from him. The food was good, probably some of your best but you couldn’t seem to enjoy it with the way Minho and Jake were shooting daggers at one another from across the table.

After dinner, Jake moved to the living room to turn on the TV while Minho managed to beat you to the sink, despite your protests. “In my culture,” he said softly as he pulled on the dish gloves. “The cook never cleans,” he continued, giving you a wink.

You brought the dishes to the sink and watched in awe as he cleaned and rinsed them much quicker than you or your sister ever could have. You helped by setting the dishes to dry and soon, the sink was empty and Minho was rinsing the sides and pulling the gloves off.

“You’re so… human,” you said softly as you leaned against the counter. He smiled at your words and looked up, his rainbow eyes meeting yours. “We aren’t that different,” he said, his smile faltering as he looked past you to the living room. You glanced behind where Jake was looking back.

“Y/N, could you get me another beer?” You rolled your eyes. “Get it yourself,” you retorted with a smirk. “You got two legs.” There was a silence before you heard Jake get up, presumably to get another drink. “What did you say to me?” he asked, his tone low. You turned to look at him.

He looked angry. You were taken aback. It wasn’t unusual for the two of you to bicker like this before. “I told you to get it yourself,” you repeated. Jake stormed around the couch, making a beeline for you. The next series of events happened so fast you almost didn’t catch it.

As your best friend stormed towards you, Minho instinctively put his arm in front of you, pushing you behind him and putting himself between you and Jake, making your best friend freeze in his tracks. It took you a moment to realize that a deep rumbling growl was coming from Minho, the vibration coursing through his body.

You peered around Minho to see Jake’s look of shock and almost fear. You quickly moved past Minho, coming between the two. “Stop it,” you said loudly, looking from Jake to Minho. It was then you finally saw the look on the alien’s face. He was furious. His eyes had gone a distinct shade of red, brow furrowed and nostrils flared. If you’d been on the receiving end of that, you’d be terrified.

You turned back to Jake. “You should probably go,” you said softly. Your best friend finally withdrew his attention from Minho and looked at you incredulously. “You’re kicking me out?! What about psycho bastard over here?” he yelled, pointing at Minho who let out another growl.

You held a hand up towards Minho. “Stop,” you commanded calmly and to your surprise, he listened, backing down but keeping his eyes on Jake. You turned to your best friend. “He has nowhere else to go,” you reminded him. “He’s working on his ship and once it’s fixed, he’ll leave. Just be patient,” you told him. “And go home.”

Jake cursed under his breath, moving to grab his jacket from the back of the couch and headed for the door with you behind him. You threw a look back at Minho, who was still watching Jake intently. Jake stepped out onto the porch and pulled his jacket on. “It needs to leave,” he said suddenly. 

“I don’t like the idea of you alone in this house with it,” he added. You waved his concern away. “He is just fine. And he will leave when he finishes fixing his ship. Goodnight, Jake.” You shut the door and locked it, leaving your best friend on the porch.

He was starting to get on your nerves with his jealousy and disrespect. He wasn’t normally like this and you couldn’t understand why he was suddenly acting so rude to a stranger. He’d never done that before. You chalked it up to Minho being from a different world. Jake was just being protective. That had to be it.

The moment the door shut, Minho was by your side, looking over you and taking your face in his hands. “Are you alright?” he asked softly. His eyes were back to the rainbow you’d grown accustomed to. You nodded silently. “I’m fine,” you replied with a weak smile.

“I’m sorry for the way I behaved,” he added. “I just went into protective mode,” he continued. “I know that alcohol impairs one’s judgment.” You smiled up at him. “Thank you for wanting to protect me. Jake wouldn’t hurt me,” you continued. “He’s just mad about something. He’ll cool off.”

“Y/N?” Minho said softly, drawing your attention. “Hmm?” you asked. “Are you sure you’re okay?”

His expression was full of curiosity. Those same rainbow eyes looking back at you. “Can I ask you something?” you asked, looking down and taking his hand as nonchalantly as you could. Minho glanced down at your hands and back up, nodding.

“Why did your eyes change color?”

Minho let out a low chuckle, shaking his head slightly before answering. “It’s linked to my emotions,” he explained. “Your emotions?” you asked, tilting your head. He nodded before explaining.

“My eyes change color when I experience strong emotions. Rage, grief, shame, fear…” he stated. “My eyes will change depending on the emotion I experience. Red, gold, green, gray, purple, pink,” he continued, listing off various colors. “So what color is red?” you asked curiously. “Rage,” Minho answered softly. “And Gold?” Minho smiled at you. “Joy,” he replied.

“What about gray?” Minho’s smile faltered a little. “Gray is for grief,” he continued to answer.

“And what about pink?” He chuckled, lifting your hand to his face, placing a soft kiss to the back of it, making your heart flutter before he looked up. “Shame. Mostly embarrassment,” he answered. You nodded, looking back at your hands before meeting his gaze.

“What’s the color for fear?”

Minho hesitated to answer and you thought for a moment you’d messed up but he finally answered. “White,” he replied. You nodded, thinking back to the colors he’d listed off. “And what about purple?” you asked, wondering what emotion that could mean.

Minho’s smile dropped, replaced with a slight smirk as he stared back at you. You watched as his eyes briefly flashed a bright purple color before they went to pink and back to rainbow. “What’s that?” you asked, looking between his eyes. He shook his head “It’s nothing,” he murmured. Your cheeks burned as he dropped your hand, moving his hand to your waist and pulled you closer.

The heat radiating from his body was enough to drive you mad and you watched as his eyes flickered between rainbow and purple as his eyes searched your face, the hand on your waist, sliding to your hip and stopping. “Minho?” you whispered. He smiled, tilting his head. “Yes, Y/N?” he asked.

Your words failed as Minho held your gaze, his free hand coming up to your face, thumb brushing over the curve of your cheek before the same thumb moved down to brush over your bottom lip. His eyes dipped down to look at your lips before he leaned in, pressing his lips against yours.

At first, you leaned into the kiss, your heart hammering in your chest before you pulled back, stopping him as he tried to follow. “I’m…” you trailed off, not meeting his gaze. “I’m sorry,” you said softly. “I shouldn’t… we shouldn’t.”

You backed away from him. “I’m…” you trailed off. “I’m going to bed,” you said before turning and hurrying up the steps, leaving Minho to stare after you, confusion on his face.

Minho stared at the spot you disappeared, dumbfounded. Had he done something wrong? He knew that when you kiss someone it usually makes them feel better. So why didn’t it work? Why hadn’t his kiss cheered you up?

These thoughts swirled around in his head as he tried to wrap his brain around what he could have possibly said or done wrong. All he wanted was for you to feel better.

Although he wasn’t used to Earth’s customs, Minho was well aware of emotions and what they were. His people were descended from ancient humans. He understood what emotions were. Did you perhaps think he was incapable of feeling? That because he wasn’t from your world, he didn’t understand?

He slowly followed up the steps, stopping at the top of the staircase and looked down the hall where your door was shut. He had half a mind to walk to your door but decided against it. He didn’t want to upset you further. Instead he made his way to the guest room.

You must have wanted space so he was happy to give it.

Only a couple moments later when there was a soft knock on his door, Minho was confused as he answered it. You stood on the other side, having already changed into your pajamas, a plain shirt and shorts. You looked at him, eyes searching his.

“I wanted to apologize again,” you said as he leaned against the door frame. “I’m probably really confusing,” you said softly, chuckling at yourself. Minho said nothing, letting you speak uninterrupted. “We can just forget anything happened,” you said softly. “If you’d prefer.”

Minho narrowed his eyes, unable to stop the purple from surfaces as he tried to ignore your exposed thighs and the way your shirt left nothing to the imagination. He could feel something stirring inside him and if he wasn’t careful, he’d be unable to control it.

“I don’t,” he said suddenly, surprising you. “I don’t want to forget it,” he clarified.

“I wasn’t confused when I kissed you, Y/N,” he continued. “What—?” you started to ask, only for him to press a finger to your lips.

“I know you think because I’m not human that I don’t understand your feelings,” he started. “But I assure you, I understand them perfectly.” He removed his finger from your lips, placing his hand by your head on the door frame. “I’m not from Earth,” he continued. “And while I may not understand the culture of her inhabitants, Ninsans aren’t much different from Terrans.”

“You told me the other day you were sad that I’m leaving,” he said, tilting his head. You nodded, remembering the conversation you’d had a day or so ago. 

You’d grown so used to his presence that the thought of him leaving really upset you. Especially after the conversation you had today about his life and where he came from.

“We experience sadness, too. I’m sad that I have to leave as well,” he added. “I would be happy if I stayed here, with you.”

Your heart skipped a beat at his admission.

“I may not be human,” he continued, his hand moving to your cheek as he stared into your eyes.

“But I’m a man all the same. And while we come from different worlds and have different biology, we are inherently descended from the same species.”

You said nothing, merely staring back at him as he spoke.

“I understand more than you think. Like, love, desire, lust,” he continued to speak, his voice still soft. Your cheeks burned at the utterance of the last word. “They’re emotions I’ve felt before,” he added. “We aren’t that different, Y/N,” he whispered, leaning closer so your lips were inches apart.

“These emotions aren’t unique to humans. Ninsans feel them, too. I feel them, too.”

He moved ever so slightly closer. “In fact,” he whispered, his breath hot against your lips.

“I feel them… right now.”

Any response you had was taken away the moment his lips met yours again.

This time, you didn’t push him away, instead, your arms wrapped around his neck, pulling him against you, your chest pressing against his. His arms went around your waist, backing into the room. Your kiss turned rushed, a mess of tongue as Minho backed you up to the bed, watching as you dropped onto the mattress and backed up, allowing him space to climb on after, hovering over you.

You looked up at him, his eyes were full of want, the pupils blown wide and his irises a ring of purple again. “Do you want this?” he asked softly, searching your face.

You nodded silently, drawing your bottom lip between your teeth. He moved one hand, cupping your cheek gently. “I need you to say it out loud,” he said softly. “Do you want this?”

You nodded again, this time speaking. “Yes.”

Minho’s eyes widened slightly. “I want you,” you whispered.

In one swift movement, Minho had you flat on your back, hands pinned against the bed as he hovered over you, hips between your parted thighs. “Say it again,” he breathed, his nose bumping yours gently. “Say you want me.”

You let out a gasp as you felt something brush against your inner thigh. “What is—?”

Minho leaned down, taking your lips in a messy kiss, tongue moving against yours languidly. He pulled back, only slightly, to speak again. “I told you before we aren’t that different,” he said softly.

“But in this,” he continued, the thing you felt before brushing against your thigh. “We most certainly are.

You let out a yelp as the appendage you felt earlier slipped under your shorts, pushing against your core.

“It’s okay,” Minho said softly, taking your face in his hands, forcing you to look at him. “Do you trust me?” he asked, searching your eyes. You nodded slowly. “Yes,” you managed to breathe out. “I trust you.” Minho pressed his lips to yours once more as the fleshy appendage under your shorts pulled, starting to slide your shorts down.

Minho pulled back for only a moment to take the shorts in his hands and toss them aside before leaning back in to kiss you.

Your body shuddered as you felt the same appendage press against your panties, slowly rubbing.

Minho’s lips left yours, kissing down the side of your neck, nipping occasionally. “What is that?” you whispered, holding back a moan as Minho suckled on the skin at the base of your neck. “Promise me you won’t scream?” he asked, looking up as his hands moved under your shirt, pushing the material up towards your chest.

You nodded, glancing down at him. He sat up straight and you could see his pants were undone and two long pale pink colored tentacles had emerged. You stared in awe at them as they wriggled, one resting at your core, the other staying close to home.

You glanced up to meet Minho’s gaze. “Can I… touch them?”

He nodded, watching as you sat up, reaching out one of your hands and carefully touching the tentacle that was currently not pressed against your panties. Minho shuddered at the touch and you pulled back only for him to grab your wrist and guide your hand back.

“It’s okay,” he reiterated. “It doesn’t hurt.”

You cautiously stroked the tentacle, noticing how Minho’s body reacted when you did.

“Is this— are these,” you asked, nodding towards the tentacles. “Your… you know?”

Minho smirked, leaning in until he was inches from your face. “Are they my what?” he asked in a playfully dark tone. You swallowed thickly. “Are they your…” you glanced down at the tentacles and then back up to meet his gaze.

“Your cock?”

At the mention of the word cock, Minho let out a growl, his hand grabbing the back of your neck and pulling you into a heated kiss, a clash of teeth and tongue as both tentacles slipped under your panties and your ears were greeted by the sound of cloth ripping.

You whined as Minho pulled back. “That was my favorite pair!”

He chuckled against your cheek, peppering kisses down to your jaw. “I’m sorry, darling,” he cooed. You opened your mouth to retort but let out a shaky moan as you felt the tip of one of the tentacles rubbing against your slick entrance.

“Seems like you’re already properly lubricated,” he mused, watching your face as he teased your hole, prodding gently with the tip of the appendage. “You really want this?” he asked, tilting his head to the side. You nodded quickly. “Yes,” you gasped. “Please.”

Not needing to be told twice, you moaned as the tentacle pushed into you, your warm walls welcoming it with a firm squeeze. Minho let out a choked moan, pushing the tentacle further into you. “Oh fuck,” you heard him curse.

Hearing the word come from him made you laugh weakly. “What’s so funny?” he asked, the tentacle stilling inside you. “I’ve always wanted to ask,” you started, glancing up at him. “Where did you learn English?” you asked him. Minho smiled, chuckling at the question.

“I learned it from watching Friends,” he admitted. You stared at him incredulously. “Wait, seriously?” He nodded with a smirk. “You’d be surprised at the kind of reception we get out on Ninsa,” he said with a wink. Before you could respond, the tentacle started moving again, gliding against your walls with little restriction.

“F-fuck,” you groaned, back arching off the bed as he set a steady pace. “You like how that feels?” he asked softly, watching your expression. “Yes,” you whined. Minho chuckled, guiding the second tentacle to join the first. He misjudged his aim and found himself pressing against something else entirely.

You gasped, eyes snapping open. “W-wait a second!” you stammered. Minho stopped, watching as you propped yourself up on your elbows. “Can you pull it out for a second?” you asked softly. Minho nodded, withdrawing the tentacle and watching as you carefully sat up.

“If you want to put it in there, it’s better if I’m positioned like this,” you said, turning away from him to lean over, presenting your back end to him. Minho was getting a full view of your glistening sex and the smell nearly sent him into a frenzy.

Instead, he managed to keep his composure and got to his knees, quickly removing his shirt and tossing it aside. The first tentacle resumed, pushing into your cunt, making you groan, your head falling into your pillows. He took your hips gently in his hands, staring at the smaller hole. He knew what this was. He had one too. It was where excrement came out.

He also knew that some people, even his own species, enjoyed having this hole stimulated during intercourse. With that knowledge in hand, he guided the tip of the other tentacle to this hole, slowly rubbing the tip against it and smearing the natural lubricant that his tentacles produced against your skin and the appendage.

You lifted your head quickly. “Just… go slow, please,” you said softly. Minho leaned over, pressing a kiss to your shoulder as he pushed the tip into your hole. Your body tensed up slightly at the intrusion but a few gentle kisses and soothing words had you relaxing under Minho, allowing the tentacle to push further into your anus.

“F-fuck,” you groaned. “Feels so f-full.”

Minho felt a chill run up his spine as he started to move both tentacles moving in tandem. Your head fell into the pillows as you let out another long, low moan. Minho chuckled lightly. “What?” he asked, taking your hips in his hands. “Does that feel good?”

You nodded fervently, your moans increasing in volume with each thrust.

“Don’t stop,” you whined. “M’gonna cum.”

Despite your plea for him to keep going, Minho stopped, pulling both tentacles back until they withdrew into his pants. “What the hell, Minho?” you snapped, turning back to look at him. He simply smiled, pushing his pants down and discarding them.

Your eyes followed down his body until you caught sight of what he’d been hiding the whole time.

“Oh holy shit,” you gasped.

By his species’ standards, Minho was average at best. He’d never been commended for the size of his cock but he’d been complimented on how well he used it. He was aware, however, that the average size for a human was not the same as the average size for a Ninsan.

From your perspective, this alien was about to shove his whole nine inch long alien cock inside you. “Th-that’s not gonna fit,” you whimpered. Minho leaned over your back, pressing a tender kiss to your shoulder. “Just lie back for me,” he murmured, leaning back up as you turned back to face him, lying back against the pillows.

Minho hooked his arms under your knees and pulled you closer. “It’s really not gonna fit,” you protested. Minho took his cock in his hand and slapped it against your clit, making you jump and cry out. “Don’t argue with me,” he said sternly.

You fell silent as he looked down at you. His hand moved to your sex, fingers gathering your arousal before he pushed two fingers into your cunt. You let out a whine as he curled them, watching the way your face contorted. “That’s it,” he murmured as he continued to alternate between curling and pumping his fingers. “That’s it, baby,” he grunted, his fingers moving faster.

“Minho,” you whimpered, moving your hand to the back of his neck and pulling him down into a kiss. With your attention temporarily redirected, Minho pulled his fingers from your heat, taking his length in his hand and guiding the tip to your entrance and pushing into you.

You moaned into his mouth, a dull sting making you tense up.

“Shhh,” he murmured against your lips, one hand moving up to cup your cheek, using his thumb to brush away one of the tears that had formed. “It’s okay,” he added softly. “S’too big,” you whimpered. Minho took your lips in a tender kiss. “I know,” he murmured against your lips. “But you can take it, can’t you? Are you going to be good for me?”

A shudder ran up your spine before you nodded. “Y-yes,” you whined. You let out another moan as Minho pushed further into your walls, groaning as the warmth enveloped him. He’d never experienced such a tight fit before and it was making his head throb as his heart hammered in his chest.

“Fuck,” he growled, pushing further into you, holding you against the mattress as his cock stretched you open. “Shit,” he hissed. “That’s it,” he repeated. “Almost there.”

You let out a mix between a sob and a whimper. Minho leaned in, pressing soft kisses to your cheeks and nose. “So close,” he muttered. “Almost there, baby.”

The pet name had your stomach doing flips and your heart fluttering. Finally, Minho seemed to stop moving and you let out a shaky breath. “Is it… are you…?” your words failed as your cheeks burned hot. “Yes,” Minho said softly, stroking your cheek tenderly. “It’s all the way in.”

As if to punctuate his sentence, Minho pulled out and gave you a tentative thrust, head falling into the crook of your neck with a low groan as you let out a high pitched moan, back arching off the bed. “It’s taking every ounce of strength I have not to start pounding into you,” he said, his voice strained in your ear. You moaned again, walls clenching around his cock.

“Oh fuck. Keep doing that and I’ll lose my mind,” he growled.

You focused on relaxing, allowing the stinging stretch to dissipate. Minho coaxed you through it, leaving soft kisses on your face and against your lips, your neck, your collar as he whispered words of encouragement. 

“You’re doing so well,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper. You let out a gasp as he gave another testing thrust. “Does that hurt?” he asked softly. You shook your head, drawing your bottom lip between your teeth as he gave another. “N-no,” you stammered, shaking your head.

“Does it feel good?” he asked, his voice still low. You nodded quickly. Minho took that as a sign to keep going, setting a steady pace, growling as your walls gripped him so tightly, as if you didn’t want him to leave. “How are you so tight? It’s so warm,” he muttered, eyes fluttering shut as he tried to focus on the feeling of your warm walls completely surrounding his thick, heavy cock.

He moved his hips harder, hitting your ass with each snap. “S-shit!”

“D-don’t stop,” you moaned, fingers curling into the sheets as Minho’s face buried into your neck. “F-fuck,” he stammered. “You’re doing so well,” he grunted, his voice muffled against your skin. “Doing so well, baby. Taking me so deep.” 

You whimpered, the sound of skin hitting skin filling the room with each frantic thrust. You could feel the tip of his cock so deep. Further than you’d ever felt before.

“M’close,” you gasped, one of your hands moving up to his hair, fingers tangling in his hair. “Yeah? You gonna be a good girl and cum for me?” he whispered in your ear, his breath hot against your skin. “Yes,” you moaned, ignoring the way the bed creaked under your bodies.

“Then do it,” Minho groaned as your walls clenched around him. “Cum for me.”

Your moans reached a high pitch, each thrust pushing you closer and closer until you finally came with a cry, tumbling over the edge. Your grip on the sheets and Minho’s hair tightened, your toes curling in tandem with your fingers as you rode out your high. 

Minho lifted his head, one hand moving to grab yours and untangle your fingers from his hair and lacing his fingers with yours as he pinned your hand against the pillow. “Look at me,” he ordered. Your eyes fluttered open, looking into his bright purple irises. ‘Sexual arousal,’ your brain finally said in your post nut clarity. ‘That’s what purple means.’

Minho’s hips stuttered as a low moan spilled from his lips as he finally came, releasing into you with three more thrusts until he stilled, burying his cock as far into you as he could. Your chest rose and fell with each breath as you stared up at him. He held your gaze until his eyes finally slid shut and he collapsed on top of you, burying his face in the crook of your neck.

You listened to your own pounding heart as it started to slow, your breathing starting to return to normal as Minho also tried to regain his ability to breathe. “Are you okay?” you finally heard him ask, lips brushing against your skin.

Licking your lips, you spoke, internally cringing at the hoarse sound of your own voice.

“Yeah,” you replied. “I’m okay,” you answered. Minho let out a huff against your skin, the short blast of air against your sweat covered skin sending a slight chill down your spine. “Are you okay?” you asked, noticing he had yet to move. He nodded, burying his face further into your skin.

“Mhm,” he hummed. “It’s a normal custom to stay like this for a while after intercourse,” he added. Your cheeks burned slightly but you welcomed his hold as he kept a firm hold on your hand, his other arm managing to snake between your back and the sheets.

It was much different than the aftercare you’d experienced. “Post sex cuddles,” you murmured, making Minho raise his head slightly. “What?” he asked softly. “Post sex cuddles,” you repeated. “That’s what I’ve heard them called before,” you added. Minho hummed softly before hiding his face in your neck again.

You stayed like that for much longer than you cared to count but as you were starting to fall asleep, Minho started to shuffle, pushing himself up to look down at you. His eyes had shifted from the purple to rainbow again. Upon seeing your face, specifically your eyes, looking back up at him, his irises flashed pinked before a smile spread across your face.

The moment your lips curled into a grin, the pink was replaced with a beautiful golden honey color. You reached up your free hand to cup his cheek. “Joy,” you said softly as he leaned into your touch, his eyes fluttering shut. When they opened again, they were still gold. “You must be really happy,” you commented. Minho leaned down, taking your lips in a tender kiss. “I am,” he murmured.

“I’m very happy. You make me very happy.”

You couldn’t help the smile that spread across your face this time as you freed the hand he held and wrapped both arms around his neck to pull him down into a hug. “You make me happy, too,” you whispered. You felt a vibrating rumble from Minho’s chest. “Are you purring?” you asked softly.

He nodded, pressing a kiss to your cheek. “I am,” he whispered. You tightened your hold on him.

“You’re so cute.” 

Minho whined, hiding his face in your shoulder. “I’m not cute,” he pouted. You pushed him back, taking his face in your hands. His eyes had turned pink again. “You’re very cute,” you cooed, pressing a kiss to his nose. “But you’re also handsome,” you added, kissing his cheek. “And very, very sexy,” you concluded, punctuating your statement with a kiss.

Minho melted into the kiss, pressing his lips against yours with the same affection. “We should get cleaned up,” he murmured. “You’re full of cum,” he added. Your eyes snapped open. “Oh shit, you’re right,” you said as he sat up, his cock having already softened and slipped out of you.

He glanced down between your thighs and tsked, shaking his head slightly. “I’m gonna need clean sheets, too,” he murmured before getting up and walking over to the bathroom. “Stay right there,” he called as he disappeared. You propped yourself up and peered down, eyes widening at the sight of a deep eggplant purple colored liquid.

Minho returned with a towel and started to wipe your skin. “Is your cum purple?” you asked, sounding amazed. Minho looked up at you, perplexed by your question. “Yes?” he asked, not understanding why you sounded so shocked. “Is yours not?” he asked. You shook your head.

“Human cum is whitish,” you answered. It was his turned to looked shocked and confused. “White?” he asked incredulously. You nodded quickly as he finished wiping your skin and held out his hand. “Weird,” he murmured as he helped you up, guiding you to the bathroom, making sure you made it on shaky legs.

“I’ll join you in a second,” he murmured, leaning forward to press a chaste kiss to your cheek. “I’m gonna pull the sheets before they stain.” You nodded, starting the shower and getting in as he disappeared. He was only gone for a few moments before returning. You stepped aside as he stepped into the shower behind you. “The sheets are already compromised,” he said, pressing a kiss to your shoulder before you turned to face him, your hands moving up his chest to his shoulders.

He leaned in, kissing you gently. “But the mattress is fine,” he added. You said nothing as he continued to kiss you under the stream of hot water. “I’ll come up with an excuse for the sheets,” you murmured when he finally pulled back. “I’m sure my mom won’t care that much,” you added.

“Just forward me the bill,” he joked, hands moving to your waist and pulling you closer, smiling as he kissed you. You moaned as his hands wandered. “Again?” you asked as his lips moved down the side of your neck and he backed you against the shower wall. “My energy replenishes fast,” he murmured, nipping and sucking the skin at the base of your neck.

“You don’t have to do anything,” he added. “Just turn around,” he added, using his hands to guide you to face the shower wall. “You’re insatiable,” you chuckled as you felt his already hard cock press against your back. “I know,” he retorted, taking himself in his hand and guiding the tip to your entrance again.

“I promise this is the last time,” he sighed as he started to sink into your heat, making your groan against the tile.

“For tonight anyway.”

Another day passed by with Minho working on his ship. He’d managed to put the console back together, even enlisting your help inside. You mostly helped hold things in place or hold tools while he talked about his life growing up on Ninsa. You listened with extreme fascination to his stories.

His life wasn’t much different than yours; only he grew up in a massive city but he still went to school, attended university, and went out with friends. He took vacations with his family, visited them for holidays, and even dated. It was almost as if he was human but you still noticed subtle differences that reminded you that he was an alien.

You pushed aside the door, walking into the barn with Jake on your heels as Minho worked under the ship. “Wow,” you heard Jake breathe as you walked over to the work table, setting down Minho’s lunch and some water. Today you’d made him some soup as it was a much colder day than before.

Minho shut the panel under the ship and wiped his hands on the rag he had tucked in his pocket and walked over, smiling at you as he hopped up onto the work table and picked up the bowl. “Smells delicious,” he said before digging in. You leaned against the table, watching as your best friend started to walk around the ship. “It looks like it’s done,” Jake noted, a hopeful tone in his voice.

Minho shook his head, swallowing the bite of food. “I’ve run all the diagnostics,” he started to explain, more to you than to Jake. “Everything is almost done but I’m missing a part,” he explained. Your eyes widened. “Oh no,” you said softly. “Is that… bad?” you asked. He nodded, swallowing another bite of soup. “It’s a crucial part,” he explained. “It allows fuel to reach the thrusters. Without it, I can’t even fire up the thrusters,” he explained.

“What, like a fuel injector?” Jake asked with a scoff. Minho nodded, looking at him. “Actually, yes,” he answered. Jake turned to look at Minho. “Wait, you’re serious?” Minho nodded again.

“Yes. That’s all I need. The valve spring in one of mine broke and the spray tip was crushed. I need a new injector.”

Jake looked from the ship to Minho. “Would a car fuel injector work?” he asked. Minho shrugged. “It might,” he answered. “What does yours look like?” Jake asked, tucking his hands in his jeans pockets. Minho set his bowl aside and got up, walking over to the ship and climbed inside.

A few moments later, he reappeared, dropping down to the ground and walked over to Jake, handing him the part. Jake inspected it closely before handing it back. “Looks like a JTS Jet Thrust Stoichiometric injector,” Jake said and you were thankful your friend was into cars.

Minho nodded and looked up. “Where can I find one?” he asked and Jake shrugged his shoulders. “I’m not sure. The cars these were made for don’t exist anymore.” You slumped in your spot. “So the auto shop won’t have any?” you asked, drawing both their attention. Jake shook his head. “No,” he answered. “Definitely not. These were manufactured for the Alfa Romeo JTS engines from the early 2000’s. Those car’s aren’t in production anymore.”

Minho looked down at the part and sighed. Jake’s eyes lit up. “But the junkyard might have one,” he said suddenly. You and Minho both looked up as Jake pointed at you. “Remember last month when I got all excited about the Spider that was brought into the junkyard but Jim said it wasn’t for sale!” You nodded, vaguely remembering the conversation.

“That car will have these. It should have four of them!”

Your face split into a smile as you looked at Minho. “Up for a visit to a junkyard?” you asked.

Minho’s lips curled into a grin. “Oh absolutely,” he replied.

Knowing the owner of the scrap yard wasn’t going to just hand over the part, Jake decided the best option would be to sneak into the junkyard at night and take the necessary part. You had asked if that was going to get you in trouble since you were breaking in and stealing but Jake merely smirked as he shrugged. ‘Only if you get caught,’ he’d said.

So later that night, dressed in all black, the three of you got into Jake’s jeep and drove out to the edge of Derrey where the junkyard stood.

Minho had brought a couple tools to remove the part from the car and Jake came with the wire cutters. You felt uneasy about this but once you were at the fence, there was no going back. Jake led the way around the outside perimeter of the fence to the spot he knew would be closest to the car.

Jake cut the fence and pulled it back, allowing Minho in first, with you following and finally, he slipped into the gap and started to lead the way, your path taking you behind large piles of old rusted cars and tons of scraps, old tires and more.

It only took a few minutes to reach the car. It was a pretty candy apple red but had definitely seen better days. The pain was chipped in parts and the exposed metal was rusted. The leather seats were torn with the stuffing falling out into the seats.

“What happened to this thing?” you whispered as Jake and Minho moved towards the hood. Jake managed to find the latch and open the hood, pushing it up and lifting the holder. You looked around nervously and turned to watch as Jake produced a small flashlight and pointed it to the engine. “Okay,” he said, taking one of the tools from Minho. “Right here. Undo this part.”

You kept glancing around, feeling as if you were being watched but saw nothing while Jake and Minho worked to unhook the fuel injector system. Once it was undone and the cover removed, Jake looked down at the four injectors and smiled, looking up at Minho who smiled back. Jake handed the injectors to Minho and started to lower the hood. “Alright,” he whispered, carefully shutting it.

“Time to go.”

You had only taken a few steps when a flood light turned on, illuminating the yard. “Shit,” Jake hissed. “It’s Jim! Go, go!” he motioned for you to move. Minho moved around the car, taking your hand instinctively and pulling you along as he followed Jake’s movements. The three of you ducked behind an old rusted Chevy, listening as footsteps walked past your hiding place.

“Come on!” Jake mouthed and waved you to follow. You snuck out from behind the truck and started heading for the fence when another flood light turned on illuminating the area you were in. “Fuck, go!” Jake yelled, taking off. Minho tightened his hold on your hand and pulled you along, running quickly as he tried to follow Jake’s path. Jake managed to reach the fence and jumped, climbing over it and landing not so gracefully on the other side.

Minho turned to look at you. “I can’t climb that!” you said, panic in your voice.

A loud yell in the distance followed by barking upped your panic and Minho cursed softly, grabbing your hand and pulling you along. “Here!” Jake called, running outside the fence and leading you both to the break in the fence. You reached it but before Minho could pull it open, the dogs, two doberman pinschers, had caught up and one of them made a lunge for you.

Minho blocked the dog with his body, letting out a growl of pain as the dog’s teeth dug into his leg just above his knee. Jake managed to pry open the fence and Minho shoved you through the gap as he managed to shake the dog off and kick it away. Before either dog could take another lunge, Minho fell through the gap and Jake let the fence snap shut.

You grabbed his arm and helped him up, the three of you running from the fence as the dogs barked ferociously but trapped inside the fencing. You helped Minho hobble back to the Jeep and helped him into the passenger seat as Jake started the engine and you hopped into the back.

Jake stepped on the gas, driving back towards town, cutting through to head back to your farm. He let out a laugh, mostly out of disbelief that you managed to get away. “Holy shit,” he yelled over the sound of the wind whipping. “Talk about a rush!”

You leaned over the center console to look at Minho. “Are you okay?” you asked and he nodded weakly. “I’m fine,” he said through gritted teeth. You could tell by his face, he was certainly not okay and you would look at his leg when you got back.

The drive to your house didn’t take long and Jake only pulled into drive when he was sure you weren’t being followed. Once he pulled up to the front porch, you hopped out as Minho opened the door. He tried to climb out but as soon as his foot hit the ground, he collapsed, screaming in pain.

You rushed to his side as he rolled over. Jake climbed out and walked over. “What happened?” Jake asked. “He got bit,” you said softly as you inspected his leg. “Help me get him inside.”

Jake knelt down, helping pick Minho up off the ground and slinging one arm over his shoulder as he helped walk Minho to the door. You unlocked it and held the door open as Jake guided Minho inside and to the living room. Minho grunted as Jake plopped him onto the couch.

“How did he get bit? What were you thinking?” Jake chastised Minho as you grabbed the first aid from the closet and returned to Minho’s side, flipping on the lights and starting to open the case.

“Stop yelling at him,” you said as you put the gloves on and grabbed a pair of scissors to cut open the jeans. “Those are my brother’s!” Jake yelled as you cut the pant leg of the jeans up to the knee. “I’ll replace them,” you said as you inspected the bite wound.

Jake ran his fingers through his hair as you worked to clean the wound and inspect the damage.

“What were you thinking, getting bit by one of those mutts?!”

Minho stared up at Jake, his eyes flashing between red and orange. ‘Orange? That’s new.’

“If I hadn’t taken the bite, it would be Y/N sitting on this couch instead of me,” Minho said angrily, his eyes finally settling on red. You sat up and turned to Jake. “Stop antagonizing him! I need him to be calm and still so I can clean this,” you snapped. “I don’t need you yelling at him and making things worse. If you can’t be helpful then you can just leave!”

You pointed towards the door. It was the second time you were kicking your best friend out but your priority right now was making sure Minho was okay. Jake scoffed and moved to the door. “Fine,” he snapped, ripping open the door and turning to look at you. “Tell me when the thing leaves. I’m not coming back until then.” He stepped out, slamming the door behind him.

You got up and followed, yanking the door open and stepping out onto the porch. “Don’t you dare slam my fucking doors, Jacob Willowby!” you shouted as you followed him off the porch. Jake rounded on you. “It’s like I’m not even your friend anymore!” he shouted. “Ever since that thing showed up, you’ve done nothing but give me the boot. You’re choosing some alien over me!”

“He’s not just some alien!” you yelled back, the corners of your eyes burning. “He’s my friend, too!”

Jake stared at you incredulously. “He’s an alien, Y/N!” he shouted. You raised your hands up, shrugging. “So? You’re an asshole and I’m still friends with you!” you retorted. “He’s. Not. HUMAN!!!” Jake shouted again. The commotion had caused Minho to get up and limp over to the door.

“That doesn’t make him any less of a person!” you shouted back at your best friend.

“What is your obsession with him?” Jake snapped. “It’s like you’re in love with him or something!”

You fell silent, staring at your best friend, watching his expression shift from anger to confusion as the realization hit him. “Oh my god,” he whispered. “You’re in love with him?” he asked, spitting out the word as if it was disgusting to him. “With him? You’re sick, Y/N,” Jake said, laughing incredulously.

“He’s an alien. He’s not human. It’s not like you could ever be together.”

Again you said nothing, images from the other night coming to your mind. Jake took your silence as some kind of omission and he choked back a laugh. “No fucking way,” he whispered. “Did…” his words failed him. “Did you have sex with him?”

You looked up, meeting your best friend’s gaze. You didn’t say anything but you didn’t need to. He could tell by the look on your face what the answer was. His eyes flickered behind you, anger taking over his features. “You son of a bitch!” he shouted, pushing past you and making a beeline for Minho who stood on the porch.

“Jake, stop!” you called as Jake stormed up the steps, towering over Minho, drawing back a fist. “Stop!” you screamed. Jake didn’t have a chance to land a blow on Minho before he was knocked backwards and tumbled down the steps. Minho took a step forward.

His eyes were blood red, a red aura emitting from him as he stalked forward, down the steps toward your best friend. “Stop please!” you cried out, moving forward. Jake tried to stop you but you dodged his attempt to grab you and moved to stand in front of Minho, reaching up to take his face in your hands.

“Minho,” you said softly. “Minho, baby please, look at me.”

Your voice seemed to snap him out of it and his eyes faded from the red to a white before settling back on their normal rainbow hue. You smiled, blinking back tears. “There you are,” you said softly. Minho’s arms went around you protectively.

Jake watched in a mixture of shock and horror that slowly gave way to anger as he got up. “Are you really picking him over me?” he yelled. You pulled back and turned to look at your best friend. “Jake,” you started but he interrupted you.

“No,” he snapped. “You need to think long and carefully about this Y/N,” Jake continued. “Are you really going to pick an alien over your best friend? Someone you’ve known since you were a child? Someone who’s been by your side this whole time, waiting for you to notice them?”

Your eyes widened as you realized the meaning behind Jake’s words.

“Are you seriously trying to confess right now?” you asked. Instead of sounding shocked or whatever Jake had been hoping for, you were livid. “You are so selfish!” you shouted, turning to face Jake who gaped at you like a fish. “Selfish? Me? I’m the selfish one? You were going to leave!”

You scoffed. “I was going to follow my dreams and get out of this place!” How dare he try to sell you as the selfish one when you’ve been living the life everyone has expected you to live and not the one you wanted to live. “I’m taking steps to live the life I want, not what’s forced on me. Everyone is trying to force me into a box and keep me from doing something great with my life. My parents, you, this whole fucking town!” you screamed, tears welling up in your eyes.

“I just want something bigger. Something better,” you added. You felt Minho’s hand take yours, comfortingly. “Why isn’t this place good enough for you?” Jake asked. “Why aren’t I good enough for you?” You shook your head. “It’s that thing’s fault.” Jake accused, pointing at Minho.

You shook your head. “No,” you answered.

“Even if Minho hadn’t shown up, we never would have worked. I don’t feel that way about you Jake. I never have.”

Your words must have been the final nail in the coffin for Jake. The hurt look on his face dissipated into a look of resolve. “Fine,” he spat. “Fuck you, Y/N,” he added, turning and heading for his Jeep. 

You pushed Minho back towards the steps, climbing them quickly as Jake put the car in reverse and backed up, tires digging into the ground. “You’re gonna regret ever coming here,” Jake shouted, pointing at Minho from the window of his car before throwing the car in drive and tearing out of the yard, his tires spitting up dirt as he floored it.

You turned to look at Minho who looked at you. “Your leg,” you suddenly said but Minho stopped you. “It doesn’t hurt anymore,” he murmured. You glanced down and back up. “Let me at least look at it, okay?”

Minho allowed you to guide him back into the house and sat at the kitchen island as you looked as his leg. The bleeding had stopped but you cleaned and bandaged it all the same. Minho headed upstairs to change his clothes before coming back down. “I’m gonna put that part in the ship,” he called and you nodded as you cleaned up the dishes.

He walked over, resting his chin on your shoulder, resting his hands on your hips. You smiled as he pressed a kiss to your shoulder before lifting his head and speaking into your ear. “Come with me,” he muttered. You smiled, letting out a chuckle as you sprayed down the sink and removed the gloves.

“Well, now that the dishes are done, I guess I could accompany you to the barn,” you replied, wrapping your arms around his neck and pulling him in for a kiss. Minho broke apart, pushing you back. “No,” he said softly. “Come with me.”

You stared into his eyes until it hit you just what he was suggesting.

“You mean, leave Earth?” you asked. He nodded. “Yes,” he said, one hand moving to cup your cheek. “Come with me, baby,” he murmured, leaning in to kiss your lips. You melted into his embrace before pulling back. “But what about school? My family?”

Minho caressed your cheek slowly. “If you don’t like it, I can always bring you back,” he offered, a smile spreading slowly across his face. “Though,” he added. “I don’t think you’ll want to come back. Traveling with me? Seeing the universe?” he asked. You worried your bottom lip between your teeth.

“See the universe?” you asked, a grin slowly spreading across your face. “And Ninsa?” Minho nodded, slowly swaying you on the spot. “It’s rash,” you said, shaking your head. “It’s irresponsible,” you continued as Minho leaned in to kiss you.

“I’m not hearing a no,” he whispered, lips inches from yours. You closed the distance, kissing him passionately. “Yes,” you finally said, pulling back to look up just in time to see the rainbow irises change to gold. “Yes?” he asked. You nodded, giggling when he pulled you into a tight hug, spinning you.

“I need to pack,” you said softly. “Just bring some basics,” he said as you let go and made for the stairs. Minho chuckled as he watched before heading out the door. 

He made his way to the barn, glancing up at the cloudless night sky. 

Minho climbed up into the ship, moving to sit in his chair and flipped two switches to turn Stan on. The main screen flickered on, the familiar star logo appearing in the middle of the screen before the computer started booting up.

After a couple moments, the screen turned green and a smiley face appeared in the center. “Hello, Minho,” Stan greeted him, a smile spreading across Minho’s face. “Haha!” he laughed triumphantly. "Stan!" Minho said excitedly. "Boy, am I glad to hear your voice," he continued. “Happy to be back, Minho,” the female AI voice said. 

“I need you to run full diagnostics of the ship as well as chart a course out of Sol III's atmosphere,” Minho instructed. “Certainly,” Stan replied. “Where would you like to go?”

Minho thought for a moment before an idea hit him. “Sol IV.”

You looked through your closet pulling out some basic clothing. Minho had said to grab the basics only so you couldn't pack everything. You pulled out some leggings, sweatshirts, tee-shirt, shorts, as well as underwear and socks.

You quickly rolled and packed everything before moving to grab some shoes and place them in your bag. You rushed into your bathroom, grabbing your toothbrush, toothpaste, and other toiletries, throwing them in the bag as well. You grabbed your phone before hesitating. Would it even work??

Deciding you could at least use it to look at pictures and take pictures, you threw it and your charger in your bag before finally zipping it shut and picking it up.

You rushed down the stairs, dropping the duffle bag by the front door before heading to the kitchen, grabbing a pen and the pad of paper that hung on the fridge by a magnet. 

You hastily scribbled a message to your parents, letting them know you were safe and that you were traveling with a friend. You placed the pad back on the fridge and ran to the front door, stopping to grab your bag and step out onto the porch. 

As you reached the top of the steps, you heard the sound of vehicles approaching and looked up to see a line of cars driving down the road. At the front was an all too familiar Jeep.

‘No,’ you thought, dropping the bag on your porch and bounding down the stairs, making for the barn. You pulled the door shut behind you and turned the light off as Minho was dropping out of the door. “Hey,” he called as you ran to him. 

“I’ve calibrated the navigational system and Stan has run full diagnostics on the ship. We are ready to go and you're not gonna believe where we're going first,” he said, grinning as you stopped, grabbing his arms. “You need to go,” you said breathlessly. 

Minho's smile faltered slightly. “Well, the ship's ready,” he replied. “We can go as soon as you're ready.” You shook your head. “I can’t go,” you started. The remnants of Minho’s smile vanished.

“What are you talking about? Did you change your mind? If so, baby-”

“Jake’s back and it looks like he's brought the whole town with him,” you interrupted, watching Minho's eyes turn white. “Then we need to go now,” Minho said, grabbing your hand and starting to lead you to the ship, looking back when you pulled from his grip. 

“I can’t go,” you repeated, feeling your heart starting to crack. Minho hurried back over to you, taking your face in his hands. “Yes you can,” he said softly. You shook your head. “I have to stall them,” you explained, fighting back tears.

Minho shook his head. “No,” he said firmly. You took his hand, pulling them from your face. “Minho,” you started calmly. He shook his head again, his eyes flashing gray before settling back into rainbow. “No,” he said again. “I’m not leaving without you!”

You moved your hands, wrapping your arms around his neck and pulling him into a hug. “It’s okay,” you whispered as his arms snaked around your waist, his face burying into your neck. 

“It’s going to be okay,” you said softly, running your fingers through his hair. “I’ll be okay.”

Minho's hold on you tightened. “I don’t want to say goodbye,” he murmured. You were the first to pull back, forcing Minho to meet your gaze. His eyes had changed to a deep sapphire blue. You reached up to cup his cheek. 

“What does this color mean?” you asked softly, noticing the way Minho tried to blink away his own tears. “It’s the color our eyes change to when our hearts break,” he said quietly. You tried to ignore the heavy feeling in your chest as you fought back tears. 

“I’m so sorry,” you whispered. Minho offered a weak smile, removing your hand from his cheek before leaning in, pressing his lips to yours. “Don’t apologize,” he whispered.

“I’d rather have met you and experienced all this than not have met you at all,” he said with a smile despite the tears in his eyes. You pulled him back into another kiss, pouring as much emotion into it as you could muster.

Neither of you wanted to be the one to pull away until you needed to breathe, Minho resting his forehead against yours as you both tried to catch your breaths. 

You needed him to know. Know that you’d never met someone like him. Know that your life had changed forever the night he came crashing into it, literally. Know that no matter what, you’d never forget him. You needed him to know how you felt.

“I love you,” you whispered, eyes shut tight.

Minho let out a soft chuckle. “You can’t say things like that and expect I’ll leave you behind,” he said, his voice cracking. You kissed him softly. “You have to,” you repeated. He nodded, pulling back to look at you, his eyes a bright pink, different from the pink you'd seen when he was embarrassed. 

“What's this one?” you asked, looking into his almost neon pink irises. He reached up, caressing your cheek before answering. 

“Love,” he said softly. “It’s love.”

The sound of engines outside the barn brought you back to reality. Minho looked towards the door before looking back down to meet your gaze. “I will come back for you,” he said, taking your face in his hands. “I promise.”

He gave you one final kiss before moving to the ship as you ran to the door. You looked back to find him looking back at you, the both of you holding each other's gaze until you finally looked away to open the barn door and step outside. 

In your yard were about ten cars, the occupants shutting off their engines and stepping out. Jake was leading the group as you walked to meet them. You stopped before Jake who stared you down. “Move, Y/N,” he said. You stood your ground. 

“He’s gone, Jake,” you said plainly. Your now ex best friend scoffed.

“Don’t think you can lie to me,  Y/N,” he started. “Just step aside and let us deal with it,” he continued. You shook your head. “No,” you snapped back. “You’re all trespassing,” you called out.

“Do you really want me to call the police and have you removed?” you continued. Jake scoffed, rolling his eyes. "Go ahead, call them," he laughed. “I’m sure they’d love to see what’s in that barn.”

You pulled your phone out and unlocked the screen. “There’s nothing in the barn,” you said as you pressed the 9 on your dial pad. You pressed the one and looked up to meet Jake’s gaze as the ground started to shake, a deep rumbling sending vibrations rolling through the grass. 

A bright light shone out from under the barn doors as Jake and the other townspeople looked on in shock. You pressed the one again and just as you did, several of the people in the crowd screamed as a loud crash sounded from behind you. 

Wood splintered as Minho’s ship tore through the roof of the barn, rising up above the structure, lights illuminating the crowd. You turned to look up at the ship as it hovered before it finally turned and shot off into the night, becoming a faint glow until it ultimately disappeared. 

That night, more than forty people called into the Derrey police station, claiming to have seen some kind of spacecraft crash through your family’s old barn. It was the talk of the town until some other scandal took its place and eventually people stopped talking about it.

You decided to finish the year at your town's local university before transferring to Columbia University, packing up and moving to the East Coast. You loved living in the big city, finding it a massive improvement over Derrey. 

You went back home during the holidays and while you saw Jake in town, your friendship with him ended completely the night he led an angry mob to your house against your alien boyfriend. 

The only thing you missed about home was the sky.

In New York, you were lucky if you saw any stars, especially on campus. Thankfully, you happened to find a nice place just a thirty minute drive from campus where you could go and see more stars than you'd see in the city. 

You’d just finished an exhausting week off work at the zoo and decided to treat yourself with some ice coffee and a drive out to your favorite stargazing location. 

Summer was coming to a close and fall was on the horizon, a chill in the air each night. You were sitting on the hood of your car, looking up at the starry sky, thinking about the last three years of your life. 

Three years since you said goodbye to Minho. 

As you were staring at the sky, you noticed what seemed to be a meteor and sat up, focusing in on it. It was flying across the sky but suddenly, it changed direction and seemed to be heading your way. 

A smile slowly spread across your lips as you slid off the hood of your car and watched as the object sailed overhead and headed for the valley behind the hill your car was parked on. 

You shook your head as you walked around to the driver’s side,  unlocking the door and getting in. You started the vehicle and backed up, turning around and following the dirt road down the hill carefully until you reached the base and started driving into the field. 

As you looked around a bright light suddenly illuminated the field and you slammed on the break, parking the car and looking through your windshield as the craft you spotted before started to descend. 

You turned off the engine and opened the door, ignoring the wind as the ship carefully set itself down and powered down. You shut the door and walked around to the front of your car, crossing your arms as you leaned against the hood. 

You watched as a door opened, light from inside the craft spilling onto the grass. A shadowy figure emerged, walking from the doorway and stopping on the grass, facing you. 

Neither one of you moved for a moment and it was silent. 

Finally you spoke up.

“Took you long enough!” you called. The figure started a brisk walk into the field as you stood up and started walking towards them. 

You weren’t sure who was first but you both broke into a run, colliding with each other, where you threw your arms around his neck as his arms went around your waist, face burying in your neck.

Finally they pulled back and you smiled, looking into those familiar rainbow eyes as they flashed gold. “In my defense,” Minho started. 

“You moved and didn't leave a forwarding address.”

ⓘ Graphics made by me. Content and support banners made using a template by cafekitsune. I do not allow reposts, translations, or continuations of my works. All writing and graphics are ©️ kwanisms.

[wanderingsoul6261]

Credit for gif goes to creator, cinevettel

A Hint of Green

James Beaufort x Reader

Synopsis: Reader promised to support the Beaufort twins no matter what, having been friends with them for years. Reader adores Lydia, but loves James. But what happens when a certain scholarship student gets in the way?

Warning: only some swear words

P.S, a little self reflective because I've been dealing with thyroid and iron issues. Also, to the person that requested this, I'm sorry if this isn't particularly what you wanted. I'm a tad sick and so grammar and spelling might not also be the greatest.

-------

(Y/N) was a creature of habit and instinct. She did things as they appeared normal for her, doing them in ways that she was used to, as if any other way would stress her out and be too overwhelming to complete. And she has made it work.

One of these such habits? Hanging out with the Beaufort twins. Who are often arrogant but not enigmatic as many thought them to be. Or at least, that's what (Y/N) thought.

But it was also surprising to many because (Y/N) was plenty different from most heirs and children of millionaires. She wasn't arrogant. She didn't use her parents' money as an advantage. And maybe that was why the twins were so drawn to her. She was real. (Y/N) was herself. They could be themselves around her. No trying to please or live up to the expectations held by their fellow classmates, the professors, or even their parents. They could just be, and that was enough.

When it was just Lydia and (Y/N), they did typical girl stuff. It was actually more Lydia doing the girl stuff and (Y/N) reading a book. Lydia appreciated her company nonetheless. She allowed Lydia to talk about Mr. Sutton when she knew she couldn't talk to anyone else.(Y/N) had created a safe place for Lydia. And it was something that both Lydia and James were grateful for.

When it was James and (Y/N), things might have been a tad different. They were agreeably closer. They went for walks together. Studied for the Oxford interviews. Sat in silence listening to music, often resulting in (Y/N) gazing softly at James as he closed his eyes, basking in the moment.

She allowed them to be them.

The three studied together. They went to parties together, even if parties weren’t much of (Y/N)’s thing. But it didn't matter, because James or Lydia was always right there. And they were there for her when she started having health issues and finally diagnosed with hypothyroidism and iron deficiency anemia. They were there for her when she got frustrated with the constant testing and the changing of meds. They knew that it was affecting her hormones and understood it would take time to balance back out. And she was thankful for them. That they never took her snappy comments and fatigued laiden excuses to heart.

(Y/N) knew it before, but when the Twins understood her health issues just as much as her parents did, when no one else would, it had only strengthened her want to support them and be there for them in every way that they were there for her.

And she did just that.

As much as it was wrong and someone should have been told, she saw how happy Lydia was with Mr. Sutton. Although, (Y/N) was certain that she could never look at him in the same way ever again.

She ultimately supported James when he started spending time with Elaine. Even if it hurt and it pained her, because deep down, her heart held a place for him, just waiting for him to come and take it. But she knew he was doing it for Mortimer, being the golden child of the twins. Although she didn't like Mortimer nor the way he treated either one of his children, she supported James wanting to please his father. Didn't mean that she didn't stress to James about being his own person.

And then Ruby Bell came into the picture.

(Y/N) was there for Lydia when she walked up to the group of them at the poolside of their home. James caught (Y/N)’s gaze from where he sat in the pool, her stomach doing a flip before the two went to Lydia, where they found out that Ruby Bell had walked in on her and Mr. Sutton. She was also there for her when ultimately, Lydia would tell her that she was pregnant.

(Y/N) didn't necessarily support James' way of trying to buy Bell out, regardless if it worked or not, but she stood behind him, supporting him regardless. She stood with him and the other boys when the Welcome party was destroyed by the strippers. Lexington was beyond pissed with him, but she supported James regardless for wanting to protect his sister. She wanted to do the same.

And now, here she was, supporting James, although very poorly, as he spent time with Ruby Bell on the planning committee. It was his punishment for the stunt pulled at the welcome party. She understood that. But it didn't mean she liked it.

She watched as over the weeks, the two had spent more and more time together. And although James and (Y/N) still texted plenty throughout the day, the time in which she saw him lessened and lessened as hours moved by. And she understood why, but she knew who he was with, and although she could tolerate Elaine, she couldn't tolerate Ruby Bell.

So (Y/N) did whatever she could to take her mind off of him and Bell. She didn't want to face a heartbreak if he became a couple with her. So she did what she thought was best. Love someone before James loved Bell.

Although it would have been best to talk to him, she did not. She knew this, but refused, because if James being with Ruby would make him happy, she didn't want to get in the way. Even if it tore her slowly apart.

And as the days since the enactment of his punishment grew in number, he spent more time Ruby. Less time with (Y/N). But it gave (Y/N) more time to go on dates to fill that questionable hole of the future. A future that she would prefer with James, but a future nonetheless. Unfortunately, it also left less time to spend with Lydia.

And over time, texts with James became small and quick. They often left (Y/N) staring at her phone in sadness before putting it away. Something had to be done, but she wasn't sure what.

If James cared enough, he would reach out to her. But she was also smart enough to know that it went both ways. But it was just as much her responsibility as it was his to mend things. But nothing had even happened to break things. So why was she acting like this?

And so (Y/N) spent the next few weeks going on dates. Most never made it past the second one. They were not James. And she knew that, yet she still continued to slowly break her own heart without even noticing.

Whenever she saw James with Ruby, she avoided the two, even if James noticed her or not. She kept herself at a distance because she knew in the end she would potentially be safer. But was she really? Was she only doing more damage?

Whenever she moved away and avoided him, she could see the hurt evident in his eyes. Lydia was also confused as to what happened as (Y/N) slowly became quiet to the both of them. The Beaufort twins began to wonder if they did anything.

Neither of them technically did anything wrong.

It was all (Y/N). And she realized that.

News eventually spread that (Y/N) started dating, after for the longest time, she swore it off. She didn't think he would find out. (Y/N) wouldn't think that James would care. But secretly he did, and she was soon to find that out.

The Beaufort twin was jealous. Jealous of the ones that had (Y/N), even if he only had himself to blame. And she Would get her wish for James to do something.

—

(Y/N) was walking down the hallway, her bag slung around her shoulder and her face in a book. It was enough to distract her from who also was in the hallway with her, and it wasn't until she collided with another body that she refocused herself with her surroundings. Especially the person currently standing in front of her.

James Mortimer Beaufort.

She opened her mouth to say his name, but only closed it when her body wouldn't let her, even if her brain screamed for it.

(Y/N)’s eyes danced across his face, taking in his appearance, and in the spur of the moment, quickly turned on her heel, hoping for an escape.

She was quickly stopped, his right arm stretched out, his hand wrapped around her wrist. She now realized she had dropped her book.

“What are you doing?” He asked. (Y/N) stared at him in silence for several moments, before finally turning fully to face him and straightened her posture.

“What am I doing?” She asked. James gave her a hardened stare, almost similar to the one she heard he had given Ruby Bell after hearing what happened.

And both of them knew at this moment that it would be their first actual fight in the several years that they have been friends. Will they make it or break it?

James matched her stare and stance, his hand still wrapped her wrist and she basked in it,loved it, and then hated herself when she pulled it away from him to further prove her point.

“You are going to have to elaborate because I don't know what you're talking about James.” He let out an angry huff through his nose, and (Y/N) had barely missed the look of jealousy that flashed across his face.

“The dating, (Y/N). What are you doing?”

“Oh. I didn't know that you suddenly took on the role of my father, James. What is wrong with me dating?” She asked. (Y/N) was being genuine. What was the issue?

“You swore it off. So why start now, all of a sudden?” At this point in time, (Y/N) could almost feel the jealousy seeping off of James in waves.

“And what happened to hating Ruby Bell?” She asked. “You've been hanging around her so much.”

“What does she have to do with this?” James argued.

“What doesn't she have to do with this, James!” (Y/N) cried out. She threw her hands up in the air, tears threatening to spill. He noticed the tears, wondering really how bad things were. “You came to Maxton Hall after that day Lydia came to us with a sickening hatred for her.”

“Things change, (Y/N).”

“Yea. I guess they do.” She turned to leave again when James stopped her once more. “Let go of me.” (Y/N) snapped. James hesitated, knowing she’d probably leave, but was surprised when she didn't. Dare he say pleasantly surprised.

It was several minutes before one of them spoke.

“When was the last time we hung out James? The last time we were together as friends and not some acquaintances that would be forgotten weeks later? Or how about when was the last time we went over stuff for Oxford? Preparing for the interviews. Talking about the campus and what we'd do once we got there? When was the last time we were just “us” together?” She stared at him for several minutes before he finally spoke.

“And you thought the best way to fix that was by avoiding me? Not only me, but also Lydia?” He asked.

“Oh my goodness! What don't you understand James?”

“I don't know (Y/N). You might have to explain it to me. Because what does me being with Ruby Bell have anything to do with you and me and my sister?” She stared at him, realizing that the conversation had gone off topic. They were no longer talking about her dating. They were talking about them.

“I admit, it had nothing to do with Lydia and I feel like an ass for abandoning her-”

“Understatement.” He huffed out. (Y/N) stared at James, at a loss for words. What was she doing? She was willing to support the twins no matter what. And right now she is failing to do that.

Tears rolled down her cheeks as she stammered and she turned to leave once more, only to be stopped once again. James tugged her against him, his hands coming up to cup her face as she closed her eyes, letting the tears fall. She missed this. She missed him. And she was blaming herself because she might lose it all.

“(Y/N). Look at me.” She hesitated, but slowly opened them. James stared at her, and the jealousy and anger was gone and in was a look of comfort and apologies.

“You want to know why I questioned you about why you were dating?” James asked. A tear rolled down her cheek and he was quick to brush it away.

“Because a crazy rabid squirrel in your head told you too?” She asked, trying to make humor of the situation. He gave her a small smile, a huff of laughter escaping from him.

“Jealousy.” He answered. (Y/N) snorted and James frowned. “What's so funny?”

“Because that's the same reason I started trying to date. I got jealous that you started to spend more time with Bell and not me and I took the irrational way out. And now I feel like arse because I wasn't supporting You guys. I blamed you and it wasn't your fault.”

“But it was my fault. I should have devoted equal time to you as well.” He explained. the two stared at each other for several moments. James gently brushed her cheeks as one of her hands played with the strap of his bag.

It was several more moments of silence before (Y/N) spoke again.

“So are we just going to avoid the elephant In the room?” She asked.

“what's that?”

“We both said our actions were because we were jealous.” It took James a moment to process what she meant. And when he finally did, he glanced down at her lips and then back at her eyes before harshly pulling her in for a kiss. A tiny gasp left her, before she quickly followed suit. A small thud could be heard as her bag fell of her shoulder and onto the floor and her hands found refuge in his hair. She met the ferocity of the kiss equally, letting out a small huff as he pressed her flushed against the wall. One of his hands moved from her face to her waist, pulling her flush against him.

They savored the moment. After so long of nothing, they were going to savor this.

At least that was until they remembered they needed to breathe. Oxygen was a fundamental after all.

“So you don't love her?” (Y/N) asked. James gave her an incredulous look.

“We are both out of breath after just kissing and you ask that? Am I in love with her?” (Y/N) only stared at him in silence, but a small smirk pulled at her lips. She was fucking with him. “Oh darling. You are truly something.” Her smirk softened into a tiny smile as it was now her turn to press a hand to his cheek. James turned his head softly, pressing a kiss to her palm, never breaking eye contact. (Y/N) swore her legs turned to jello just then.

“I missed you.” She finally spoke. “And I'm sorry for being so stubborn.”

“I missed you too, darling. and if anyone has to apologize, it's me.” James’ stare hardened, telling her that he was going to win this apology battle. And she gave it to him. “Oh. And one more thing.” (Y/N) stared at him, waiting.

He paused for several seconds.

“I'll give you the world, sweetheart. Don't forget that.”

-------

Tag list:

@lifeonawhim @honethatty12 @ashamedtobewhitemanswhore27

[briebysabs]

I’ve been deliberating for a couple days now and have decided to discuss in-depth about Kim Dokja and the tendencies of putting his life on the line. For most of the novel, I was split on whether I should view KDJ as a self-sacrificial bastard or a suicidal character. And by the end, I’ve reached the conclusion that he is both.

Before I elaborate further, it should be noted that while we all meme about KDJ’s dying count, he actually isn’t that careless with his life. What I mean is he sacrifices himself usually as a last resort, plans A to F didn’t work and it’s the only option left to hope for kimcom’s safety-ditch effort. Usually. We’ll circle back to that when we bring up OD. But his sacrifices are always done as granting his companions salvation, utterly blind to how they feel about it. But to understand his constant need to do this you have to first start with where he learned how to love. Lee Sookyoung’s love was sacrificial, she’d take the brunt of her husband’s rage to shield KDJ, she’d take on blame for his death and be incarcerated for years so Kim Dokja won’t discover the truth. All of this, in my opinion, unbeknownst to KDJ, imprinted onto him this interpretation of love. As nobody else until the scenarios began had loved him (Yes HSY technically but he doesn’t know that). Which gives the irony that multiple characters KDJ resent in the story such as Kim Namwoon, his mother, the constellations are ultimately revealed to be reflections of himself.

Another component to his self-sacrificing is “Kim Dokja the reader”. I’m not going to dive deep into how orv interweaves dissociation and escapism into its narrative, I’ll do that some other day. But KDJ views himself as the reader, an outsider, the sole member in the audience watching the story unfold before him. Yes he grants commentary, the players notice and acknowledge his existence, but he isn’t part of the play. So if he decides to step out of the auditorium for a while, if he decides to leave a bookmark where he left off and close the book, nothing should change. The story will continue in his absence, the characters cannot possibly miss him because Kim Dokja was not a character. He was not part of their world so even if he’s gone, the ending will still happen. And that is something I want to stress here.

KDJ says “he wants to see a certain story’s epilogue”. Specific choice of words, “see”. He doesn’t say he’ll be part of it,that he’ll be with them, or any close variation of those phrases.

This is where I want to diverge to talk about KDJ's suicidality. You can say “Ok then, KDJ has a clear goal in mind to reach the ending he desires. Yes he may feel the need to step out of the story every now and then, but he does so reluctantly. So obviously, he doesn’t want to die.” And you wouldn’t be wrong really but that simplifies it to an overwhelming degree. That’s how I initially thought of it until I realized how complicated it actually is. Because most people who deal with suicidal thoughts aren’t searching for death but rather feel there’s no other choice. It often isn’t as clear cut as 1863 YJH who, anyone that read this arc will say with certainty that he was suicidal. Yes KDJ isn’t chanting in his mind over and over that he wants to die but why does he want to live? To see the proper ending of a web novel that stopped him from attempting again to begin with. Over the course of orv he finds people he loves and who love him back deeply. People he longs to live for but despite that because of the disconnect between them, his self-loathing, accompanied with what I said before, believing he has no other way out of these threatening situations. Yeah it’s to save his companions but in the end Kim Dokja still feels the need to die. Even if you do not see KDJ as a suicidal character, it is undeniable that so much revolving him, the impact it has on those who care for him, and the visceral descriptions used to convey their thoughts, is a direct metaphor for that.

Or in a few cases, straight up what’s going on and now we arrive at what I think was the final straw for Kim Dokja. Meeting the Oldest Dream. For me, this is THE scene of orv. The biggest twist and what finally irreparably broke KDJ. Prior to this, Kim Dokja had become the “Enemy of the story” but it was unlike his previous dances with death. This time he truly had no intention of dying, he wants to be a part of the ending with his companions, he understands now that his sacrifices do hurt them. That according to him “I, someone of no redeeming quality, could be loved by the others.” That he is a character and that just maybe, he does deserve to live happily ever after with them. And then Kim Dokja meets a 15-year old boy with the same face as his, doodling in a notebook his ideas for Ways of Survival and a notification tells him to ‘Please end the Oldest Dream’. All of that progress is shattered in an instant.

KDJ tries to excuse himself by recalling his promise to SP to kill OD but we all know if that was any other kid, he would not have tried to kill them. He would’ve hesitated much more, he’d look for a loophole, he would’ve tried talking which is his biggest strength for every corner he gets into. Killing them would not be the first option but now it is. Because this isn’t an instance of sacrifice anymore, KDJ is sick of himself. OD is a presence that confirms KDJ’s worst fears. That he’s meant to be weak and pitiful and alone, that he was always an outsider, that he unintentionally causes pain and misfortune to people he loves, that everyone would be perfectly fine and better even without him. And Kim Dokja is the physical manifestation of them: a monster. And there’s only one way to get rid of this monster.

The chain of events from him swinging his sword at OD, trying to stab himself with the blade only for YJH to stop it desperately with his hand, everyone restraining and begging him to stop, KDJ crying and screaming for SP + the other Outer Gods to kill OD. Everyone else is forgiving him and KDJ is only thinking of getting a blade.

This is Kim Dokja’s relapse. It’s real, it’s harrowing, and he never recovers from it. He reaches the conclusion that he has to be alone, it’s his atonement, it's what he deserves. So he splits himself 49-51. I interpreted this when I first read it as presenting 49% of what you believe people want to see. More real than a facade but it’s not the true you. The true, fucked up version of who you are is trapped in a prison of your making, trapped in a darkness you feel you don’t deserve to escape. Which is why it’s so powerful that KimCom went after that 51%. They didn’t want just their version of KDJ, they wanted everything KDJ is including the larger side of him that he wishes didn’t exist. But the plan fails, they managed to turn that full stop into a comma but they couldn’t save KDJ. Because you can’t drag someone out of that train, out of that mentality, you can’t force someone to love themself. All you can do is reach out to any corner, every worldline you can and let them know you’ll always love them. That you’ll always love every aspect of their story and hope that perhaps one day, they’ll accept your hand and believe it.

[ID: Omniscient Reader's Viewpoint art by Blackbox: first of Kim DOkja smiling, seen through a space in a bookshelf, and second of astronaut Yoo Joonghyuk floating upside down as letters float around him. End ID]

[justnatoka]

Creatures of the night

Poly! Lost Boys x GN! Reader

A/n: It's finally done! I had so much fun writing this! I would love to expand more on this idea. Let me know if you would be interested in that, or if you have any ideas for it. Maybe I'll write something that focuses more on the reader's relationship with the boys next. Also, I tweaked the timeline a bit for the sake of the story. Hope you enjoy!

Word count: 3.4k

Warning: none, I think

Summary: Sam wants to save his brother, so he asks for help from the Frog brothers. What he doesn’t anticipate is that they introduce him to you, the person who taught them everything about vampires.

Sam didn’t have many choices. Michael had been turned into a bloodsucking creature of the night, and as much as he wanted to help him – not least for his and their mother’s safety – he knew he couldn’t do it alone. So he went to the two people he could (hopefully) count on. If someone told him a few days ago that he would turn up on the doorstep of the Frog brothers’ comic book shop for advice on how to terminate vampires, he would have laughed in their face. But alas, here he was.

After listening to every detail about the recent changes in Michael’s behaviour, not to mention last night’s events – Nanook attacking his brother, seeing his half faded reflection in the mirror and the levitating act he performed outside Sam’s window – they took a moment to take everything in.

“This is serious, man” Edgar finally said then he turned to his brother. They exchanged a silent look and nodded before turning back to Sam.

“We’re gonna take you to someone” Alan announced.

“They taught us everything we know about vampires” Edgar explained solemnly.

Sam gulped. If this person is some kind of vampire expert, they could definitely use their help. He didn’t want Michael to be killed, but he couldn’t stay a bloodsucker either.

“Alright, take me to them.”

-------------

He got suspicious when they turned up at a totally normal looking house, and his apprehension only grew as the Frogs rang the doorbell. He waited with baited breath as a minute passed by without anything happening. Then finally, the door opened. He didn’t know what he was expecting. Maybe someone with military style clothing that screamed “tough guy” – similar to what the Frog brothers tried, and ultimately failed to pull off in his personal opinion – but with big bulging muscles, who could knock out any vampire they saw. Or even a shady character with nervously twitching hands and a conspiratory look in their constantly moving eyes who’s always looking around for danger. But the person standing at the door was none of that. In fact, they were just… a normal person, around his brother’s age. He shot the Frogs a confused look, but they didn’t pay him any attention as they were too busy snapping their heels together and saluting with a unanimous,

“Good morning, boss.”

Their “boss” leaned against the doorway.

“’Sup?”

The reply was so casual, none of the Rambo wannabe bullshit the boys always used. That’s it, Sam was even more confused. They came to see this person?

“We need your help, boss. Seriously confidential business” Edgar explained. They nodded and disappeared inside.

“Come on in then.”

You led them up the stairs and into your bedroom for some privacy, then shut the door just in case your Dad left his workroom at the end of the hall. You sat down on your bed, the boys settling down on the carpet. Sam looked around. The bedroom was pretty normal as well, with a bookcase full of horror novels as far as he could see, a bunch of CDs next to a CD player and band posters of the walls. Although he spotted a few comics on the nightstand that looked similar to the ones the Frogs gave him.

“So,” you rested your arms on your knees and laced your fingers together, glancing between the boys. “What is it?”

The brothers turned their heads towards Sam. You’ve been wondering how Edgar and Alan knew him since you first saw them standing in front of your house. His clothes were fashionable, his hair styled. He wasn’t exactly the type of person the boys usually hang around.

“How do you know each other?” he asked instead. Looks like he was thinking along the same lines.

“I used to look after them when they were younger” you answered casually.

He blinked before directing his growing exasperation towards the brothers.

“Your babysitter? You brought me to your babysitter?”

“Former” Alan added as if that was the biggest problem with this whole situation. Sam let out a frustrated huff.

“And how exactly are they supposed to help my brother? Don’t tell me that all your knowledge comes from these” he waved his hand in the direction of your bookshelves.

“Actually, most vampire related media is full of bullshit” you interjected.

He froze. “How did you…?”

“…know that your brother was turned into a vampire?” You finished with a smirk. “I know a lot about what goes on in this town. I know who turned your brother and most likely how they did it. I know he’s been googly-eyed about a girl who hangs around a rather questionable crowd. He’s been acting strange ever since he met her, right?”

Sam just gaped, not knowing what to say before shutting him mouth and nodding. You gave an understanding nod in return.

“Is he fully turned?”

When a confused frown appeared on his face you added, “Has he taken any blood? Killed someone?”

“No, I don’t think so. He’s a jerk, but he couldn’t kill anyone.”

You smiled at the sibling banter. “Then he’s only half. The way things stand now, there are two options for your brother. One, he eventually loses the fight against the bloodlust and ends someone’s life, becoming a full-fledged vampire. Or two, you find the head vampire and kill him. That way, every half-vampire that was turned using his blood will become human again.”

Silence fell on the room as they mulled over what they just heard. It was Edgar who spoke up at last.

“Then we have to find the head vampire. Do you have any ideas who it is?” he turned to Sam.

“Maybe” he hesitated. “But I’m not sure.”

You reached across to your nightstand, grabbing one of the comics lying there and handing it to them.

“This might give you some ideas.”

Sam took the comic into his hands, eyeing it skeptically.

“Didn’t you say that most vampire related media is full of bullshit?”

“Not this one” you reassured him.

“How do you know?”

A smile tugged at the corner of your mouth. “My dad writes them.”

You thoroughly enjoyed the surprised look on his face before he opened it and turned a few pages.

“Hounds of Hell” he read aloud before glancing back at you. You could already see the gears turning in his head, a thought forming behind his eyes, something akin to recognition, but not fully there yet.

“Thank you. Let’s go guys, we have to make a plan” he gestured to the other two then rushed out the door. Edgar and Alan hurriedly got to their feet, and with a quick goodbye they ran after their friend.

------------

They failed massively. Sam was so sure about Max being the head vampire, however he passed all their tests. And above that, his mom got mad at him for ruining her date night. Again. But now they were getting ready to head to the hideout of the group that turned Michael. The Frogs reassured him that they’re coming armed with stakes and other weapons to kill the head vampire. Meanwhile, Michael can go and rescue his girlfriend. One thing was for sure: this time they were finishing the job.

-------------

You let out a shaky breath as you put down the phone. You just received a call from Alan, telling you that they are going to the vampire hideout. They planned to kill off who they thought was the head vampire. They wanted to let you know in case anything happened to them. You were cursing out loud while you shrugged on your coat in a hurry and ran out the door. This isn’t how things were supposed to play out. They were blindly walking into a den of wolves, having no idea what they were up against. This situation could only result in someone getting hurt. All you could hope was that you got there in time, before they did something stupid and irreversible.

--------------

Edgar and Alan led the way down the stairs and into the cave. It had a bunch of warning signs, and looked like it has been abandoned for decades. However, as they entered the gaping mouth into the darkness, they arrived into a space that resembled a hotel lobby, albeit all messed up and crumbled, but still in a pretty good shape. It would have been a very cool hideout, Sam thought, if it didn’t belong to a bunch of nightcrawlers. It was sure as hell that this place was lived in.

He helped Michael get down the sloping entrance, just as the Frogs discovered Star sleeping in one of the corners.

“Don’t you touch her! You stay away from her!” His brother could barely stand on his own two feet, yet he scrambled over to the girl.

“The rest of them are gotta be around here someplace. Let’s find them.” Edgar motioned for Alan.

“I can’t let you do that” came a voice from behind then. Startled, they turned around. There you stood near the mouth of the cave, your form half in the shadows. “I can’t let you kill them.”

“Why not? They are bloodsucking monsters!”

You stepped forward, shaking your head.

“My answer is still no. Take the girl and the little boy, then leave. They will go after you to try and bring them back, and you’ll probably have to fight them. But you can’t kill them here and now.”

Sam looked over to the Frogs and couldn’t believe his eyes when they seemed to hesitate.

“No! This is crazy! We have to end them now. This is our best chance while it’s still daylight. Come on, guys.”

“You can’t kill them all at once. Not like this. You’ll need a more solid plan for that than a few wooden stakes. If you end one of them now, they’re gonna come for you with even more vengeance. They know this place like the back of their hand, and you don’t. There’s a high chance you won’t even make it out of this cave alive.”

It certainly made sense. The more Sam thought about it, the more ill-prepared this all seemed. If they are really such bloodthirsty killers like Michael told him, maybe it was better to rethink their strategy instead of just rushing headfirst into a dark cave full of dangerous vampires.

He was still a little disappointed they couldn’t just end it here and now, but as he turned to the Frog brothers, he saw it in their eyes that they cracked. They will follow what their “boss” told them to do.

“Alright. What do we do?” he sighed.

“Let’s regroup somewhere safe. Then we can come up with a plan for tonight. As soon as they discover you took those two, they’ll come after you. That only leaves a couple of hours to prepare for an attack.”

“We can go back to ours, fortify the house.” You and Sam exchanged a serious look as you nodded.

“Sounds good. Let’s get going.”

The boys helped Michael carry Star and Laddie, as he was rapidly losing strength. When they passed you on the way out, Sam was sure he heard you let out a relieved sigh. He guessed you were worried about Edgar and Alan running into danger. You certainly looked like you cared about them. Shortly after they got up to the car, you also joined them. They didn’t question what took you so long, they didn’t have to know about the note left behind.

As you got into the driver’s seat – seeing as Michael was in no shape to drive – Sam wondered about how lucky they were to have you on their side. Someone with knowledge about vampires, who could also be the voice of reason if need be. It could have ended a lot worse if they got into a fight with those bloodsuckers in the tight corridors of the cave.

-------------

It was over. The last few hours have been a flurry of rushed preparations that morphed into total chaos as the vampires came. Sam was still reeling from all the running and fighting and screaming, the feeling of victory as they took down all of them, followed by the chilling panic as Max made his appearance, finally showing his true face. But it was over now.

His mom and Michael were hugging him, Star was hugging Laddie, and he could have sworn he heard the Frog brothers saying something about charging them for this, but he honestly couldn’t care less. Grandpa made his way into the kitchen, opening a beer and grumbling about all the damn vampires in Santa Carla.

They were all too busy with relief to notice you standing back, anxiously gnawing at your lips, waiting, listening for any sound from other parts of the house. Then a groan came from the workshop, and a smile spread on your face.

Everyone else jumped, the Emersons huddled together with Grandpa peeking out from the kitchen. Michael drew Star closer to him, Laddie clinging to her other hand. The Frog brothers were on their feet in an instant, taking up some improvised fighting stances. All staring cautiously towards the workshop, they collectively almost had a heart attack as they watched David sit up on the table with another grunt. After some struggling he slipped off the horns piercing through him with a sickening wet sound. He cracked his neck and let out a satisfied sound from deep in his chest. The puncture wounds on his torso already started to heal. They frantically turned around as more footsteps were heard approaching from different parts of the house. Sam looked at his brother in a panic. How is this possible? They were sure they killed them. He saw Michael tense up. He was pulling what little energy he had left together and getting ready for another fight. The problem was, he turned back into a human as Max died. They probably wouldn’t be able to fight them off in the state they were in, tired and bruised.

The rest of David’s gang emerged, a little worse for wear but healing rapidly.

“Look out!” came Alan’s frantic voice when he saw the three vampires approach you from behind.

“You okay, babe? Hope we weren’t too rough on ya.” As Paul sneaked an arm around your waist and pulled you into his side, you leaned into him.

Everyone just stared at you in dumbfounded silence. David’s footsteps thudded loudly as he circled around their group and stood beside you and his brothers. Without even looking, you laced you fingers together with his. It seemed so natural. That’s what went through Michael’s mind as he watched the little show of affection between you and the vampires. This didn’t happen yesterday, this has been an ongoing thing for a while.

Alan was the first to voice what everyone was wondering.

“How is this possible? We killed you” he pointed an accusatory finger at the bloodsuckers.

“That’s gonna stay our secret” you stated. “I might have taught you everything you know about vampires, but I didn’t teach you everything I know.”

“So you were with them all along?” Sam asked in disbelief.

“Of course I was. How do you think I know so much about the creatures of the night?”

“Boss… you really betrayed us for the enemy?” Edgar’s voice sounded so hurt it almost broke your heart.

“Max was the enemy.” Your matter-of-fact tone did nothing to ease the situation. In fact, it only made the boys angrier.

“But they hurt people!” Alan shouted. Dwayne took a step forward and Marko let out a low growl at his raised voice. You quickly let go of David’s hand and gently put it on Dwayne’s arm. You made sure to give Marko a reassuring glance as well before continuing.

“You don’t have to agree with my actions. I love them, and that’s enough for me.” You turned toward Michael. “At least that’s something I think you can understand.”

He gave you a silent nod as he held Star closer to his side.

“For what?” Sam mumbled. “You put your friends in danger” he motioned to the Frog brothers, his voice rising in volume, “but for what? What was the point of this whole thing?”

“First of all, they were never in any real danger. Except when you planned to ambush David and the others in the cave. That could have ended really badly.”

“They planned to do what?!” Marko almost lunged at them again, but Paul held him back.

“Come on, bud. It won’t do any good, if we kill them now” he tried to reason with him.

“To hell with that! We were holding back all the while they tried to kill us multiple times. Tried to ambush us! I say we finish them now.”

David’s cool voice broke through the argument.

“As much as I’d like to do that, you’re forgetting the fact that they are Y/N’s friends. They asked us not to hurt them.”

Marko seemingly realized his mistake, glanced at you and hung his head. He let out a sigh.

“I’m sorry, sugar” he mumbled.

“Is that true?” It was Edgar who spoke up this time. He was looking at you intensely. “You told them not to hurt us?”

You nodded.

“They were never going to kill you, they just had to make it believable. Like I said, Max was the enemy. We knew he planned to turn Michael’s family, and we saw an opportunity. You wanted to turn your brother back” you turned to Sam, “and the boys wanted Max gone. Our problem was one and the same. And now everyone got what they wanted.”

“You pointed us towards Max. With the comic” Sam realized.

You nodded again.

“Things didn’t exactly go according to plan, but it turned out fine in the end. I knew Max would come out of hiding if the boys were in danger. So I left them a note in the cave about the change of plans. Max was smart. We had to make it look like they died for him to appear.”

You could tell your explanation didn’t exactly placate them, tensions were still high, but that was okay. You anticipated their anger. You didn’t mind it so long as everyone was alive.

“If you would excuse us, this has been a long night. Me and my boys will leave you to be.”

You sent a sad smile towards Edgar and Alan as you walked past them. You could tell they still had some things they wanted to say, but decided not to, at least not now. It really has been a long night, and everyone just wanted it to end already. Your departure was followed by a long silence as they were trying to make sense of everything. Eventually, Grandpa spoke up.

“Those damn vampires, I’m telling ya.” He just shook his head and headed for his workshop.

You were also silent on your way back to the cave. Paul nudged your arm.

“You okay, babe?” he asked with a hint of worry on his handsome face.

“Yeah, I’m fine” you sighed. “I just hope I didn’t ruin my friendships.”

“They will come around” he reassured you. “And if they don’t, you still have us” he sent you a cheeky smile.

The corner of your lips finally turned upright.

“Thank you” you whispered as you leaned into him more.

“Don’t mention it, dollface.”

You looked over at your lovers, resting your gaze on all their faces for a long moment. You were just happy they were all okay.

[marysdonuts]

Tom and Jerry

school clown!Hoshi x top student!reader

Synopsis: After crossing the rubicon with your annoying classmate Hoshi "relationship" between the two of you improved. However you bump heads once more at Mingyu's game night party

Warnings: plot with smut, enemies to lovers, high IQ (f.) x low IQ (m.), slight angst, Mafia game at Mingyu's house, classmates, semi-public, banter, dirty talk, oral (f. receiving), brief mentions of other members, crack, Hoshi acting cray during the game, (no questionable fashion choices mentioned)

WC: 1.2K

Status: part 2 (ongoing), read part 1 here

masterlist / requests / taglist

Why should it be awkward after fucking your arch nemesis? Well, isn't that what all the books and movies want us to believe?

- The female lead got into dragged out moral battle with herself after giving in to the detestable male lead.. Making audience yawn. Questioning if this is who she really is, questioning God's intentions - ultimately running away never to return again. Revolutionary.

In reality things didn't have to be so black or white. There was no need to go thru the emotional rollercoaster of blaming it on your childhood trauma or turning it into religious guilt. Ultimately, we were put on this Earth to have fun. Why beat ourselves up for doing something that we actually enjoyed?

Living in the grey area had its perks.

Improved relationship with your desk-mate Hoshi was one of them. The steamy encounter in locker room visibly dissolving tension between two rivals.

You were in higher spirits than usual.

Well that was fun, didn't think he had it in him. Why was I acting like a bitch before? Guess I just needed the attitude fucked out of me. Kekekekekek

"What are you scheming down there, hm?" walking in Soonyoung saw you hunched over the desk cackling like an anime villain planning to take over the world.

"Wouldn't you like to know." pushing up non existent glasses reflecting the light for dramatic effect.

"I would love to know." towering over you

"Pfff, you wouldn't understand even if I told you!!" springing up the chair, sticking your tongue out at him

"See you at the game tonight~"you spiralled out the classroom in a way that resembled category 5 hurricane. Leaving Hoshi flabbergasted.

"Wasn't I supposed to be the crazy one?" rubbing his chin in disbelief, your wicked laugh echoed thru the halls

//

And exactly what game were you talking about?

Of course the quarterly Mafia get-together. You've been told that everybody gathers up in class president Mingyu's house once every three months. It's your first time attending.

Please, please, please give me a role! I can't stand being a boring citizen - eyes shut, you prayed as the host passed behind you. Tapping you on the shoulder.

"The mafia has been chosen."

silence

"The police officer has been chosen."

silence

"The doctor has been chosen."

//

You killed the doctor first. Something in Seungkwan's proud eyes gave him away. He liked to play the saviour and once again it got the best of him.

"Why am I always the one getting killed first?? Why do you hate me soo much" pouting, hands crossed on the chest

"That's what happens when people had enough of your shit. Bang, bang, bang!" Hoshi collapsed in front of Kwan, seemingly coughing up blood "better keep your head down next time.." clinging to Boo's ankle before theatrically releasing his final breath. Freezing on the floor.

"You! Shut the hell up!" kicking his foot, trying to free himself from Hoshi's iron claw

//

Citizens were dropping like flies. Only making the sinister look in your eyes grow bigger and bigger.

And so did Hoshi's craziness.

"it's MINGYU, HE'S THE MAFIA!!!" pointing at Mingyu, shivering in the corner, probably questioning why he invited this madman in the first place. He was voted off.

"Everyone, WAIT JUST LISTEN TO ME...!" human sized worm was now wriggling in Joshua's direction

With every nonsense spat from Hoshi's mouth, you could feel your braincells dying.

"MWAHAHA, YOU THOUGHT I WOULDN'T NOTICE THAT LOOK IN YOUR EYES, CHAN?? CAN'T FOOL ME!!!" backflipping to the opposite side of the room, attacking the youngest

Idiot. Can't fool you now, huh? We'll see 'bout that.

"What a big mouth you have over there, Kwon," raising to your feet, cackle of devil ready to deliver divine retributions "would be a shame if someone shut IT." you shot your thumb down making all the remaining civilians vote in unity. Crowd vailing.

Heh, so this is how it feels to be a roman emperor - sentencing slaves to their death for entertainment of the colosseum.

//

Not long after you were the sole survivor

"Mafia WON! Standing ovation for the lady!" clap clap clap host crowning you MVP of the game.

"Thank you, couldn't done it without you." palpable wink in direction of the fuming hamster, now seeking comfort between Mingyu's humongous man-titties. Once enemies now reunited in shared hardship

Misery loves company, doesn't it? Chuckling to yourself

Hoshi Kwon (19) left the mortal world behind right then and there - figuratively speaking of course. Utterly humiliated by you, again. He was supposed to SHINE! He was supposed to find the mafia! Finally got a role of policeman but every guess that he made tonight was incorrect

"You win. For now." darkness possessing his amicable face

Familiar knot taking shape in your stomach

//

DU! DU! DU!

Heavy knocks on the bathroom door

"Just a moment!" drying your hands

DU! DU! DU! DU! DU!

"Hey! I said I am coming..!" swinging the door open

"Oh? I wondered when you'd show up." smirk looming up your lips as Hoshi shoved you back inside

"Smart girl. Wanted to see me that badly?" there was nothing sweet about the way he closed the door shut

"At least one of us," shooting back "are you here to serve your sentence?" tracing finger on his lips

"Didn't you say somebody should shut my mouth? Then, sit on it."

Ah and there it was the residual craziness clouding his judgement. Ain't gonna argue with a dude that has big brown eyes. Whatever you say, beautiful.

You weren't wet yet but it wasn't hard to guess that in exactly two minutes you will be

"Hahah- what?" you were just joking, didn't expect to actually do it here. At house party? Is there a cliché more american? Neither of you were an american but you'd rather be caught dead than doing something so mainstream.

"Did I stutter? You always talk a big game in public but I want to see how brave you are now." hot breath already caught between your thighs, hungry kisses biting at your soft flesh making you whine. Guess they didn't call him tiger for nothing

"We are in Minguy's bathroom.." voice disappearing into thin air the moment his starving mouth made contact with your, now wet, private area

"And? didn't seem to mind the locker room last time" Hoshi's swirling tongue rolling over THE spot of your clit

"s-shut up, you idi- OOOOH" a cry hardly appropriate for friendly game night. The sensation making you drunk on his expert movements.

"Oh? I didn't know top students had such a dirty mouth" working harder and more relentlessly than before, the train of needy moans couldn't be stopped anymore.

And there you were. Once again with a good for nothing dude between your legs. Making you feel things nobody before him managed. How does he know exactly what you liked? Was it the environment? First the locker room now friend's house...A combination perhaps?

Taste of forbidden fruit is not easily forgotten,

but who doesn't love a good enemies to lovers trope?

To be continued

[kaylopolis]

Alastor's Shadow (18+) - Afterword

Alastor x F!Reader

Synopsis: There’s a new Overlord in town and it isn’t the Radio Demon. Six years after you fell into Hell, you have finally earned your seat at the table as Pentagram City’s newest and baddest and with the Extermination coming six months earlier than planned, it is now time to implement your ultimate endgame. After all, who doesn’t love a bit of power and chaos? Your plan brings you to the doorstep of the Hazbin Hotel as Charlie’s newest Redeemer, but who you find waiting for you will not only turn your entire plan upside down but also challenge your grab for power… 

Tag List: Slow burn, rivals to lovers, eventual smut

Masterlist Link: Masterlist

Spoiler Warning: Please read this after the Epilogue

Dear Hoteliers,

Before we begin, there is one thing I’d like to address: why did I kill Alastor?

Alastor’s death, believe it or not, was not about Alastor.

While you were dying, your thoughts were not fixated on him, nor were they fixated on Mary Marie if you read that alternate ending. They were about the abuse you experienced as an Angel of God. After all, this story, the very first thing that brought you to the Hotel was revenge.

But this was not a story about revenge. That all changed in Chapter 14 “Picking a Fight,” when you and Alastor finally caved and gave in to your feelings for each other.

No longer was your Endgame plan clear cut. Things got complicated. Alastor had to accept you and the plan or it didn’t work. Why? Because, again, you thought your story was one of revenge.

Alastor’s death - the demon saving you, looking after you over the years he was “dead,” and the lengths you went to revive him - changed that narrative. Because now it was not about Alastor accepting you and the Endgame plan, but you realizing that your story could not go on without him.

Literally, hence the time jump.

I did this for your character development, closure of your character’s arc, and because it has been the theme from the beginning of this work: power born from love is a thousand times more powerful than that born from fear.

Hence, the power, chaos, and love modified mantra I ended with.

So, if love was the solution/closure you needed why were you so fixated on the abuse as you died? Why did you not find resolution in those final moments (hence the “your fault” present during this scene)? Why was there no healing from your triggering past during this fic?

I intentionally did not want that sub-plot to find an ending because that’s not how trauma works. It’s an ongoing process - a battle to fight everyday. We have our good days and our bad, and we do not let it dictate our lives, but it’s a battle nonetheless.

I’ve always taken issue with movies and books romanticizing trauma and a character becoming empowered from it, using it as willpower to take down kingdoms literally and metaphorically. Culture wraps up trauma in a nice pretty bow and sticks it on a shelf and calls it a day when, in reality, that’s not how healing works.

It is a battle. An ongoing battle many of us spend our entire lives fighting.

How fitting that Mikaela’s a soldier…

But I’m not here to rehash this subplot. I’ve said my peace for you all to synthesize on your own because I find writers have many hidden motives we don’t catch while reading, and, as a writer myself, it makes me incredibly sad when a reader misses it because the story is SO much better if you understand them.

That being said, I’m here to reflect. After all, it’s what an “Afterword” is for.

I’ve never written a fanfic before but I am a fantasy writer. I decided to use this piece to explore romance, smut, and to fantasize about Alastor because how can you not? Vivienne inadvertently dropped us a hottie who has taken the fandom by storm!

I started this piece off as an “eventual smut” piece. Trying to practice my writing in a way the great Alastor Fictive writers on here would be proud to read: @minkdelovely , @hazelfoureyes , @hurthermore , @krahk , @fraugwinska , @macabr3-barbi3 (seriously go read their stuff, it’s AMAZING). Yet, around Chapter 14 (I call it the “Golden Chapter” in my head because I consider it to be the climax of not only the fanfic but of my writing as a whole. I’m quite proud of that chapter and honestly spent a long time debating ending the story there, but so many things were still unfinished) I found that I didn’t particularly have a talent for writing smut, nor did I enjoy it in the same way I enjoy writing fantasy.

This entire project was a discovery and a challenge for myself, and I grew A LOT as a writer.

Looking back, if I had to do this again, I would change quite a bit after Chapter 14. Maybe I will in the future, but as of right now, I have school and another manuscript to complete.

That being said, I have fallen in love with Mikaela and plan on using her in the future for my own book. (I will obviously not use any of Vivienne’s stuff because copyright laws exist, but I just love the character’s personality.)

I’m not planning on writing more on Tumblr anytime soon, but the series will stay up for future readers to find and enjoy.

My only goal with this was to reach a few people and have one person - just one - say they liked my writing. :)

Thank you, Hoteliers. Without you, this project wouldn’t have happened.

To power, chaos, and love!

As always, stay smutty <3

kaylopolis

Btw looking for feedback, feel free to send me a message!

-> Link to Masterlist

Tagged Hoteliers:

@sirens-and-moonflowers @wonderlandangelsposts @saccharine-nectarine @goyablogsstuff @mommymilkers0526 @eris-norwega @missgirlsstuff @alastor-the-radio-demons-blog @sillywormtrixareforkids @its-a-dam-blue-brick @cloverresin20 @blue-bird251 @speedycoffeedelight @littlebluefishtail @sawi1987 @mopeyghost @beelz3bub @fraugwinska @minamilinaqueen @demoarah @diffidentphantom @divineknightmare @animecrazy76 @sleepykittycx @graunta @reath-solia @satansdaughter123 @mysticatto @freshonyourpages @chibistar45 @rapunzelbro @stephydearestxo

[plutoccult]

BEAUTIFUL STRANGER

pairing: hwang hyunjin x gender neutral reader

description: a beautiful stranger shakes up your once boring and repetitive morning commute on the train.

word count: 3.4k

also available to read on my ao3 here

author’s note: hello! i’m no stranger to writing, but i’m definitely a stranger when it comes to writing for idols. this is the first time i’ve ever done so, and who better to write for than my ultimate bias hyunjin? stray kids is my favorite group, so i’d like to write more content for them in the future. thank you to my pookie wookie lills (YES, we unironically call each other pookie, it’s our thing) for beta reading, and i hope you enjoy <3

soundtrack: beautiful stranger, enchanted

tags: @solefleurs @heavenfilm @5sos-wdw @todorokiskitten @rylea08 @br3anna-nels0n @hyunjinloverrrr

taglist form here

you always found an array of characters during your morning commute on the paris metro. there’d always be locals, some on their way to work or home just like you. amongst the locals were tourists decked out in overpriced souvenirs specifically curated for suckers like them. at night, there were drunks who thankfully were smart enough not to drive. the reek of alcohol on them wasn’t that amusing, you must admit.

despite the variety of people you could see passing by on your commutes, it grew boring. always the same thing every single day. not even the music playing in your headphones or the book you brought with you that day could make time go faster. it’s not like it would be any better once you got off the train either. your life was incredibly dull and repetitive. if only something could serve as a change of pace.

to think that your life had become boring in a place like paris of all places. it’s the city of love, is it not? even if you were created out of love and born in a city all about that concept, you had none of it. maybe that’s why you felt this way. no matter how many times you pass the same streets or enter the same train station, you had yet to find the one thing everyone seemed to look for so easily here.

you had basically given up at this point, committed to living an empty life where all you did was work, eat, sleep, then repeat. it’s what most people do in other countries anyway, might as well join the party. the second you had fully lost all hope, however, was when you saw the most beautiful stranger on the train. you almost wanted to slap yourself for being so pessimistic before.

you walked onto the train with the expectation of just sitting around until you got to your stop. as you walked to your usual seat, that’s where you found your beautiful stranger, sitting in the seat right across from the one you sat in every single day without fail.

you knew you had never seen him before. you take this train almost every damn day, so who was he? had he just moved here? was he a tourist? where’s the “i love paris” shirt and the eiffel tower keychain made of shitty plastic? instead, he was dressed like someone meant to be on billboards and magazines. surely had the face to fit the bill too. he was undoubtedly breathtaking, and he ultimately captivated you upon first sight.

it was pathetic how you hesitated to sit down. he didn’t seem to waver, looking down at his phone. from the reflection of his sunglasses—yes, you were that curious—he seemed to be swiping through photos. you assumed they were ones he had taken around the city. paris was definitely filled with photo opportunities, so you couldn’t blame him for that one. it’ll look good on anyone’s instagram feed.

you try your best to make yourself look occupied. shuffling through your bag to find a book, the rummaging sounds catch the attention of your beautiful stranger. your eyes meet for a brief moment when you turn your body to lean back in your seat with a book in hand. despite how quick the moment was, you swore your heart dropped the second you caught his gaze.

oh god, was this the excitement you had been waiting for? you couldn’t mistake it as anything else. leave it up to you to fall for a stranger upon first sight, but who cares? finally, finally, your life had begun to be painted in color. even if it was just for a moment, you’d savor this one train ride that actually seemed worthwhile for once in your life.

you steal glances at him every so often, praying he wouldn’t catch you and make you feel embarrassed for staring. you just couldn’t help yourself, he was like a walking renaissance painting. actually, you don’t even think da vinci would be capable of capturing the essence of someone who looked like a real-life prince.

the moment you knew you had reached your stop, you wished you could glue yourself to your seat so you had no choice but to stay on the train with your beautiful stranger a little longer. as much as you wanted to, you simply couldn’t, having no choice but to say goodbye without actually saying a word at all.

it was silly to think a stranger on the train could change your life in an instant. still, you were grateful for the temporary change of pace. if only you could thank him somehow, but alas, you knew you had no chance of seeing him again.

•••

the next day, you found your beautiful stranger again, this time sketching down something in a sketchbook. you caught him looking at everyone who walked onto the train, and when it was finally your turn to step on, he actually smiled once he laid eyes on you. it all felt like you were dreaming. if this was cloud nine, then you had finally reached it.

when you walked over to your seat across from his, you noticed he clutched the sketchbook close to his chest, almost like he didn’t want you to see what he was drawing. you were too shy to speak up and spark a conversation with him anyway, so it wasn’t like you would pry. still, you were curious to know what was on the page.

it pained you knowing you lacked any courage. you found you were better off acting like you were interested in your book, on a random page as you were too in your head to actually start from where you left off and completely ignored the folded page that indicated that. what would happen if you said hello? would he say hi back? ask if you’d like to see what he’s drawing or ask about what you’re reading? the possibilities seemed to be endless, but the possibilities seemed safer as thoughts in your head rather than facing reality if you were to take a chance.

you can’t help but watch intently as his face scrunched from focusing on his sketch, his only tool a wooden pencil. did he plan to color it later? you can imagine trying to avoid rattling colored pencils leaving his possession due to the bumpiness of the train. he was quite brave for trying to draw in a place like this, you thought.

unnoticed by you, your beautiful stranger’s cheeks flushed and ears burned red as he could feel you watching him draw. the subject of his drawing still remained a mystery to you, however. tempting to spark up a conversation, yet so debilitatingly scary at the same time.

it seemed rude to stare for so long, so you put a stop to it immediately and busied yourself with your phone, catching up with texts you had missed since getting up for work. your phone was always blown up with texts from your friends, today being no different. if you didn’t silence your phone at night, you would never get any sleep.

they had been informed about your current saga, and the update would certainly excite them. it was hard to resist a smile as you texted them about the latest scoop, especially as the subject of said scoop was only a few meters away from you. maybe this should wait until later, otherwise they’d trying forcing you out of your comfort zone by talking to who was still a total stranger at the end of the day.

who knows though? for all you know, he could be a murderer. a stinking gorgeous one too. as if you need to be on the evening news. even so, those were just silly thoughts, all just an excuse to stop yourself from taking a chance at something for once in your life out of fear.

the second you reached your stop, you instantly regretted being so silent. would it have killed you to try? it felt like it would’ve, but you figured this morning was the last chance you’d have. if only you weren’t such a scaredy cat.

•••

after your shift, an unexpected reunion occurred on the evening commute. the train was quite crowded at this time of day, majority of the aboard trying to get home after a long day’s work, including you. the surplus of people made it quite difficult to find seating, but luckily for you, your beautiful stranger had a seat occupied by his bag, perfect for you to sit.

this was the extra chance you craved the second you got off the train earlier, cursing yourself throughout the day for not even attempting to just say hello. you were so thankful to see him again, it was almost like the universe blessed you for this very purpose. you were such a wuss this morning, but you refused to allow that reputation to continue now.

once you took a deep breath, you walked to where your beautiful stranger sat, trying to keep your balance as the train moved at rapid speed. in the midst of your struggle, the sound of your footsteps thumping on the ground caught his attention. he looked up in surprise, not expecting to see you, but thrilled nonetheless.

“hi.” you miraculously manage to speak out, your accent making an appearance during your pathetic english. it was agonizing how your heart raced a mile a minute just by uttering one word, so you tried your very best to calm yourself down. “is this seat taken?”

“no, no…” he replied to your question, picking up his bag and moving it to the floor by his feet so you could sit. “here.”

“thank you.” you say before taking the seat next to him.

god, your heart was thumping like the loudest drum ever created. to sit across from his was one thing, but right next to each other, shoulders brushing due to the lack of room? if only you could put a stop to this rapid percussion inside you. at least the sounds of the train rumbling against the tracks could serve as buffer for the unspoken tension between you and your beautiful stranger.

his sketchbook rested unopened on his lap. you recognized it as the one he had earlier, previously held close to his chest as if he were hiding secrets. what could someone as dashing as him be hiding in there, you wonder?

almost as if he were reading your mind, he suddenly opened up the sketchbook, flipping the pages—which revealed beautiful drawings in the split second you saw them—until he landed on a page of a finished sketch, one that you swore looked like you sitting on the train yesterday.

you look up and catch his eye. “is that me?”

“mhm.” he nodded with a soft grin.

his art style was something to be proud of, meant to be showcased in somewhere exquisite like the louvre. could this guy be any more perfect? drop dead gorgeous and talented? to see yourself captured in such a bewitching way was truly the greatest compliment one could ever receive.

the sound of the page ripping away from the binding of the sketchbook startled you. what was he doing? it was so perfect! why mess it all up? you couldn’t help but say something about it.

“what are you—”

“you can have it.” he interrupted you, holding the page in his hands, waiting for you to take it.

“oh…” your cheeks flush as your fingers accidentally grazed over his upon grabbing the sketch. “thank you.”

you almost felt bad holding this in your hands, afraid of ruining it just by the touch of your hand. how could he just let you have this without hesitation? even if this was a drawing of you, it felt like you didn’t deserve to have it.

you examine the drawing down to the details of the clouds behind you. you look for some sort of signature, assuming every artist had one in hopes to find a name. in the bottom corner, you see the name “hyunjin” written in cursive. you had finally put a name to your beautiful stranger.

“hyunjin?” you attempt to pronounce his name. your accent did you no favors, but you tried your best regardless. he furrowed his eyebrows in confusion until you pointed to where his signature was, then receiving a nod confirming that was his name.

“hwang hyunjin.” he said slowly. you repeat his name in full, speaking slower than him to make sure you were saying it correctly as you desperately didn’t want to screw it up. hyunjin, as you’ve now learned, gave you a nod of approval once you’ve won the battle with your accent.

“i’m y/n l/n.” you tell him. it would be awfully rude if he didn’t learn your name, after all. it seemed hyunjin didn’t seem to struggle at all when it came to pronouncing your name. his english was far better than yours, which wasn’t a shock as he seemed to be so insanely perfect in every aspect possible.

“are you an artist?” you ask, making an assumption based on the clues given to you the past two days. if he were anything else, you’d be surprised.

“i sing and dance.” hyunjin replied. you couldn’t believe his perfection could get any greater, but it just did. it would shock you if you learned your once beautiful stranger was a world famous one.

“well, your art is lovely.” you say.

“thank you.” he blushed shyly. to hyunjin, it felt so nice being treated like a normal person, appreciated for his art above all else. while there was no denying you found him to be the most breathtaking person you’d ever seen, there was more beneath the surface, and hyunjin was grateful to be seen for what he loves to do.

“is this your first time in paris?” you question, a chuckle escaping hyunjin’s lips over your pronunciation of your homeland. you were trying to get as much information out of him as possible before you were tortured with reaching your stop and leaving him once more. you had to take this chance while the universe let you have it.

“this is one of my favorite places to visit.” hyunjin said. truth be told, he always loved paris for its scenery and art, but yesterday he found one more reason to love it. is there any other place to love better than a city known all about that?

a visitor’s perspective was certainly different than the perspective of someone who’s lived here their whole life. there were so many reasons to love paris when you didn’t experience the greatest things about it everyday. to you, it was the same old thing. but to hyunjin, it was like a brand new experience each time in the rare event that he visited. but meeting each other allowed the both of you the ability to find something new to appreciate about this city.

“the eiffel tower gets old after a while.” you joke. hyunjin burst into a fit laughter, one more obnoxious than his calm chuckle from before. it infected you instantly, and you craved more of his laugh now that you’ve fully heard it.

hyunjin calmed himself down, letting out a sigh as he leaned his head back with his eyes closed and a grin on his face. he was truly the most beautiful person you had ever seen. “i hope i never get sick of this place.”

“i hope you never do.” you tell him, looking at his face as if he were a sculpture in a museum. “don’t wear it out.”

“i won’t.” he opened his eyes and responded to you, his smile not going away as you gazed into each other’s eyes.

you can’t help but stare at one another, almost like magnets pulling you together. was it normal to feel like this about someone you barely know? even so, it felt like you knew hyunjin before you ever met. such a thought would seem like insanity to someone else, but not to you, at least not in the moment.

your once unwavering stare was unfortunately interrupted by the sudden thrash of the train stopping. you look out the window and recognize it as your stop. if you were crazy enough, you’d stay on the train until they kicked you out, but you weren’t all that brave enough to try your luck. maybe you were better off savoring this moment for what it was; just a moment with a beautiful man who was once a stranger to you.

“ah, that’s my stop.” you say with a frown. hyunjin’s smile from before faded too. it was clear neither of you wanted this to end.

“oh, alright.” he replied. hyunjin watched as you quickly collected your things, not forgetting the drawing he gave you when you first sat next to him. you would cherish it as long as you could, and he could only hope that’s what you’ll do.

“maybe i’ll see you on the stage here someday, yeah?” you force a smile. you were actually sad to see this end, but if you keep a grin on your face, then maybe it’ll hurt a little less.

“yeah…” hyunjin nodded. “i hope you do.”

“bye, hyunjin.” you wave goodbye, hyunjin doing the same.

“thank you for making the train less boring for me.” you get those final words out before following the line of people exiting the train. hyunjin kept his eye on you for as long as he could, even staring out the window as you disappeared into the sea of people. if only he could have went with you.

“bye, y/n.” he said to himself, clutching the sketchbook that once held his masterpiece; a drawing of you, his beautiful stranger.

•••

on the third day, hyunjin was nowhere to be seen. you saw it coming, really. you knew last night was probably your final chance to ever see him again. still, a part of you hoped he’d magically appear on the train when you went to work the next morning.

the thrill you once had was no more. the spark lit aflame in your heart all gone. you weren’t sure if anyone would make you feel the same way hyunjin did. maybe meeting him was a lesson, something to teach you what the city of love was truly about, what you’ve failed at your entire life. at least now you were able to succeed, even if such a success was temporary.

you were thankful that your once black and white world finally had some saturation in it for once. if you were to meet hyunjin once again, no matter what the circumstance may be, the world would be in full bloom. you would look for him in everything you see, down to the bakeries you’ll eat at and sceneries you’d visit, for as long your thoughts echoed his name.

while your routine became repetitive once more, at least you had hyunjin’s image in your brain and his drawing in a picture frame on your shelf. if you were as talented as him, you’d try your hand at drawing him too, but you knew you wouldn’t be able to capture him like your eyes ever did. at least you have the memories.

hyunjin dreaded watching you leave, and he hated it even more when he left for the airport in the morning. he wondered if you thought about where he went, hoping you thought about him like he did now with you. you’d remain ingrained in his mind. whenever hyunjin thought about paris, a place he loved just as much as his hometown, he would think about you too.

he couldn’t explain this sadness inside him to anyone else. hyunjin couldn’t fathom anybody understanding the feeling of love at first sight like he did. a true romantic at heart, maybe you were the only one to be just as foolish as him when it came to romance. after all, you were instantly captivated by one another.

maybe, just maybe, hyunjin could write a song about this and sing it to the thousands of people he performed for like clockwork. but no matter what the days ahead held, hwang hyunjin, your beautiful stranger, was all that he would ever remain, and you would remain as his.

•••

(bonus)

@hynjinnnn: 파리에 있는 동안 기차에서 이 사람의 모습에 반해 그려보기로 결심했습니다. 나는 그들이 그것을 좋아했기를 바랍니다. 언젠가 다시 보고 싶습니다.

i was enthralled by this person on the train while in paris and decided to draw them. i hope they liked it. i'd love to see them again someday.

© plutoccult / 310802. please do not copy, repost, modify, or translate any of my content in or outside of tumblr. reblogs are appreciated <3

[cheesus-doodles]

It's funny lowkey for me whenever you write about the reader being unable to resist the tears and puppy eyes because since I'm the third oldest out of ten (oldest daughter, just number 3 in the line up) I've become immune to puppy eyes and if my own siblings can't work that on me I doubt that the Founders could. So I was wondering how you think said Founders would be like if Darling was immune to the puppy eyes, especially if said Darling is like me and has a bunch of younger siblings >:3c

Immune to puppy eyes+multiple younger siblings anon here, feel free to ignore that though if it isn't a prompt you want to do! No pressure at all!

aksjdnaskjdnas finally getting round to answering some of the older asks ;-; sorry it takes so long y'all - just disappointed in myself today cause I hesitated to buy Izzy's standee and in that moment he sold out ;-;

‎

Masterlist

Upon reflection, the Toman founders really are like younger siblings huh. Maybe not so much Draken, Mitsuya or Pah, but definitely your needy trio of Mikey, Baji and Kazutora who would be as good as clingy younger brothers with separation anxiety. Or maybe more so like puppies, but same difference in the end.

I think it would only take just the first visit to your house and a glance at all your younger siblings clamouring for you to help them with something for the realisation to set in with the Toman boys that no amount of tears or puppy eyes would work on you. No doubt Mikey and Kazutora would still try, but the boys would be quick to turn to other means to wring out what they want from you.

Draken and Mitsuya find out quickly that annoying you into giving in and doing what they want works pretty well - after all, Misty himself has two younger sisters and he knows what buttons they usually push to get him to do things for them. Though they personally don't want to whine and plead (they are still delinquents with some measure of pride after all), they know who will, and young kids are easily bribed for their help. Sets your younger siblings on you with a small bribe of sweets and with their help, would ultimately manage to force you into doing whatever the two Toman boys wanted just to get the hassling and pestering to stop. Sometimes even pretend to step in to help you stop the non-stop disturbance so that you can get your homework done, no doubt putting them in your good books. High fives all around, no doubt Draken and Mitsuya are the more popular pair around your place.

Mikey and Kazutora, on the other hand, have no such dignity left when it comes to you. The two of them would definitely still try their tears and puppy eye combo a few more times just to be sure it doesn't work before they switch tactics. Would do literally anything to get your attention and affection on them, even if it means blackmailing you - stealing your homework and holding it hostage, refusing to leave the bathroom whenever you need it unless you pinky swear to spend time with them afterwards, dragging you out of class and straight up sitting on you and not moving. Tears and puppy eyes were the easier option if they were honest, but whatever works ain't stupid. Your siblings couldn't get to you when you are in school, but they can, and these baby boys absolutely will, threatening to kick up a fuss and disrupt every class if you don't let them lay on your lap and cuddle. Tried to give you some of their favourite snacks as bribery but obviously didn't work cause they were all half-eaten, so back to disruption they went.

And then there's Baji and Pah - the two who have individually consulted outside persons and have come to the same conclusion. Baji would have asked his mum on advice on how to steal your attention (she thinks he's trying to get a girlfriend), while Pah will ask Peh, and the two airheads will end up bribing and buying your time and attention. Baji would take advantage of the community cats that he cares for and invite you along to feed and play with them whenever he could - none of the other Toman boys can get as close to them as he could, and he knows all the good spots too. The community cats let you pet and rub them since you were with Baji, and this baby boy would use the opportunity to get your attention and affection. Pah is the best out of the six at arcade games, so buying your time with games and prizes was no brainer (or at least that was what Peh told him) - you did enjoy winning a ton while with him, and he got to hang out with you with no complains, so its a win-win.

End of the day, it just makes life more difficult for you if you were immune to their crying and whining, so my recommendation would be to play along when its convenient and encourage the behaviour rather than let the boys come up with their own idea of how to get your attention: the more things doesn't work out, the more desperate the boys become. Wouldn't be long before one of the more desperate ones get the idea that if they hurt themselves, you would be sure to pay attention and fuss. Or worse, if they took out the number of people who wanted your attention, then you'll have to give time of day to them - so maybe just give them the pats and forehead kisses they want and they'll be happy to be nothing more than your clingy baby siblings.

[dreamingofep]

Sinned Awakening pt. 8 🩸

An AU Elvis fic

(Vampire!Elvis/Vampire Austin!Elvis × reader)

Character/Fandom: Elvis - Elvis (2022)

Request: No

Prompt: Getting promoted to be Elvis full time housekeeper, you realize the man holds secrets beyond belief and your undeniable attraction makes you fear the unknown. [Fem!Reader]

TW: Cussing, tension, angst, some smut, aggression, blood/gore!!!

Rating: Explicit

Word Count: 9.6K

A/N: Hello everyone!

Welcome to part 8 everyone! I appreciate your patience as this was a MONSTER to write! This is Vampire!Elvis so there is going to be mentions of blood/gore from here on out. If that's not your thing, sorry but it's needed for the story. I hope you enjoy the story from Elvis' perspective in this part. He is very very bad so please be prepared 🤭 I think it was important to understand him better. Please let me know what you think in the comments or send me a message!

If you’d like to start reading from the beginning, start here. 🩸

Thank you again!

Sorry for any spelling mistakes and overall goofs.🖤

Day 1 With You

The sunshine slips through the cracks of the heavy curtains and illuminates the otherwise stark bedroom of his. He groans and shuts his book harshly and goes to close the curtains. He huffs, pushing his hair back, and sits on the edge of the bed. It was only noon but he was so restless and wanted to get out of the penthouse. He knew it wasn’t an option though. It would be too easy to be recognized and he was starving. His lack of control was worsening by the day and the longer he starved himself, the more he craved blood.

It was all he could think about. When could he sink his teeth into something warm and feed himself to contentment? He knew it was morally wrong and that’s why he tried to contain himself and ultimately hide up here all day and drown himself in books. Not only is his appetite ravenous, but the longer he goes not feeding, the weaker he physically gets.

He gets up and goes to the bathroom to take a shower which distracts him from the burning thirst that resides in his throat. The bathroom light makes him wince and he hunches over the sink, annoyed that he has to walk around feeling like this. Looking up at his reflection, those red eyes stare back at him and he feels disgusted looking at them. He doesn’t have a normal life already and he can’t even look normal because of this choice he made. He felt no physical pain but the thirst that resided in him made him feel like he could collapse any second. The last time he felt like this was in the Army. How some nights they didn’t eat and the blistering cold penetrated so deep to his bones he felt as if he was dying. 

He takes another deep breath and opens the medicine cabinet. The short vials stared at him menacingly and the burning in his throat felt like fire the more he looked at them. There was a small amount of blood in the viles but enough to calm his thirst for a short time. He grabs one of them out of the cabinet and takes the small cork top off. The smell of it hits his nose and he grumbles, lifting it to his lips and letting the crimson liquid pour down his throat. It was just what he needed and he made sure to not let a drop go to waste. He tosses the vial in the trash and looks back up at his eyes which are now a stormy blue, a bit more human-like. But it wasn’t enough. He could drink all the remaining vials in the cabinet and calm his thirst. But the issue of getting more blood became an issue. 

There were other vampires in the area and the common thing was to steal from blood banks. However, with more coming to Las Vegas, it was becoming too conspicuous that all these blood bags turned up missing at the closest blood banks. Elvis’ men went out and got him as much blood as they could so Elvis would have enough strength to sing and put on the best show possible. 

For the last few years, Elvis restrained from feeding on humans, even how much he loved it. It was the best way to feed. 

He became too addicted to getting a girl in his suite, make love to them, feed just until she couldn’t take it anymore, and making them forget he ever bit them. He had never felt so good. But people started to notice the weird behavior of the girls that would come out of Elvis’ suite and suddenly not remember certain portions of the night. 

He still had some morality in some sense and knew it was wrong and had to find other ways to feed himself. So that’s when the blood bank idea came to be. It wasn’t terrible but not enough for Elvis. 

A knock on his bedroom door turns his attention and he quickly goes to answer it. 

“Hey, EP. Just reminding you that a new housekeeper starts today,” Jerry says stoically.

Elvis grumbles annoyed and looks at Jerry.

“Are you kidding me? Another one? The last one was good. She was quiet and kept to herself and I never wanted to suck the life out of her.” He says annoyed. “This is not a good time for someone new to start man. My appetite is not under control and I can’t risk anything,” he explains.

Jerry nods his head and looks down to the floor.

“I understand EP, but they assured me this new girl is really good and one of the best. You can control your thirst, I’m sure she won’t be a problem,” he assures.

Elvis takes a deep breath and nods his head too.

“I’ll make sure to lay down the rules with her. I don’t think I can handle a human here for more than an hour,” he huffs.

Jerry agrees and tells him that you’ll be here at three. Elvis thanks him and closes the door to his bedroom again and prepares himself to meet you. The other housekeeper never said she was leaving to him and was very peculiar. She never asked questions about when she would find blood splatter on the sheets or why he never made any contact with her for fear she would get concerned over his body temperature. Ever since getting bit, his body temperature drastically dropped and made it clear that he was not human. In the rare cases, when he did have to shake people’s hands, he made the excuse that he was not feeling well and usually people would not ask other questions about it. He decided to get back into bed and continue to read his book until he had to get up to meet this new housekeeper.

Three o'clock came before he knew it and he heard the lurch of the elevator make its way up to the penthouse. He runs his hands across his face, not mentally prepared to be so close to a human that he’s never met. He grabs his sunglasses to hide his dark eyes and more importantly, hide the hunger that resides in them. He puts on a new shirt and begins to button it when he hears a peculiar sound.

Thump, thump, thump thump…

A heartbeat. A very peculiar one. He’s never heard something like this. It was like music to his ears. The sound kept getting closer and louder.

Nervous little human, he thinks. Good, she should be nervous, she has no idea what I am capable of, he scoffs to himself.

The sound of the front door opens and quickly shuts, but the sound of your heartbeat only quickens when you don’t see anyone around. 

He quietly opens the bedroom door to examine you. That’s when it hits him fully. Your scent. So alluring and beckoning. He literally had to hold his breath to keep his fangs from descending. He knows he can’t step another inch closer to you or disaster can strike. He watches you look around the living room and the current state it's in. Last night’s party was a lively one no less and the evidence was all on the floor. You keep peering around and he decides to stand in the corner of the room, motionless, examining you.

The sound of your heart pitter pattering away combined with the way you smelled was practically killing Elvis. This was exactly what he didn’t need. He didn’t need a new housekeeper at this time where he was practically starved. But to have you here smelling this irresistible was going to be an issue no doubt. His lack of restraint has always been an issue, even when he was a human. He always did what he wanted and if he liked something, he was going to get it. Nothing changed in that aspect once he became a vampire. You smelled so sweet to him, practically like honey and the sound of your heart was like a symphony. Like it was perfectly created for his ears alone and rose and fell so easy for him. What he would give to make that orchestra only play for him and get you all excited. Get you so close so he can feel your heart pound against his body and keep the symphony playing for him.

Fucking hell this is not going to end well.

He closes his eyes and tries to refocus, get her to clean this up, and get her out, he thinks.

“About time you showed up,” he says gruffly. He watches you snap your head in his direction and sees the most beautiful eyes. The way they glimmered in the low light but nevertheless brightened up the room almost instantly. 

Oh lord, she’s beautiful…

Your heart danced wildly again, nerves rushing through you and it made Elvis even more eager to be around you. No matter how dangerous it may be for you.

You clear your throat nervously, “I’m very sorry to keep you waiting Mr. Presley. My name is y/n, I’m your new housekeeper.” You say timidly, placing your hand in front of you to shake his. He looks down at your hand, and your heart pumps louder.

Don’t touch her, don’t touch her, he thinks. He tries not to recoil from you but he has to get away from you.

 He looks down at you with hunger, he knows you can’t see the ravenous look he has in his eyes but he knows he doesn’t have enough control to even shake your hand without the thought of trying to take a bite out of you. He watches intensely how you quickly retract your hand and put it at your side, fidgeting with the hem of your skirt.

Hmm good stay nervous, I want to hear your heart louder, he thinks.

“Um, where would you like me to start cleaning?” You ask.

“Where do you think?” He snaps coldly at you. This makes your breathing accelerate and he likes it.

“Okay, no problem. Do you mind if I open the drapes so I can see what I’m cleaning?” You ask gently.

“I don’t care, Just get it done,” he snaps at you. He starts to make his way to the other side of the room by the sofa. As he passes you, he gets another whiff of you passing by and his mouth salivates from it.

He studies you, watching your every move and how careful you are. He notices your wandering eyes. How you want him. He knew how he looked and most humans wanted him. That was part of his curse, the way he allured people in just so he could get close enough to bite. But you kept glancing over at him, unable to resist his presence. Sitting there with his legs open, he watches how your eyes get drawn to his legs and bulge. A smirk forms on his face, liking the attention he’s getting from you. He watches you clear the floor and go to the cleaning cart to grab something. His thirst was becoming insatiable the longer you were in here. His eyes bored into your backside and wandered down to your perfect legs. Your uniform didn’t showcase your physique very well but he wanted to see more of you. Particularly on his bed…

“Make sure to dust the other bedrooms,” he directs, “and under no circumstances do you go in my bedroom without my permission. I forbid it,” he says gruffly. 

You quickly agree and move away from him to start on the next room. He follows you into the bedrooms and he gets dangerously closer to you the more you move.

Just get her closer and do it…

Your heart never calmed down and your nerves got the best of you. He wasn’t so concerned about how you were cleaning, he just wanted to keep you in here as long as he could so he could make his move. 

He had to hurry up and figure out where he wanted you. His meal. Where he was going to take his first bite of you and drink his problems away. He wanted to get you in his bedroom, pin you to the bed, ravage your neck, and then, make you forget it ever happened. He was too indecisive though. He might as well just do it now, you would probably resist him in some way and he should just surprise you and make it quick. 

Come here, he whispers, compelling you to him so he can get what he wants. You don’t respond though, and this shocks Elvis. Maybe he’s weaker than he thinks and he can’t compel you in the condition he’s in. 

No, that can’t be, he’s always been able to compel no matter the circumstance. Maybe you just didn’t hear him…

Come here honey, he says a bit louder, you turn around to look at him but instead of obeying, you leave the room to start cleaning another area. He is beyond baffled, were you resisting him in some way? How was this even possible no human can resist a vampire’s abilities? 

His frustration got the best of him and he was fed up with not getting what he wanted. It’s easier to have you under his control while he feeds from you rather than having you flail around and try to escape. 

Just do it when she’s not looking…

Devour her.

You move quickly and efficiently throughout the suite and try not to linger as his eyes continue to bore into you. Finally finishing the remaining room, you are about to excuse yourself when his keen eyes scan the room for anything you missed. 

The glimmer of a champagne bottle that rolled underneath the piano catches his eye and he thinks this is the perfect opportunity to get her back turned and he goes in for the bite. He smiles to himself, “There’s a bottle underneath the piano,” he grumbles.

Your face drops in disappointment as you aren’t as thorough as you thought. He watches you move the piano bench aside and crawl underneath, scanning for the bottle hidden under the curtains. His eyes trail over your backside, liking what he’s seeing. He moves quickly and carefully, walking to the piano where he wants to pull you out from underneath it and suck you dry.

He hears your bewildering hum as you did not see the glass there. You start to retract back out from the piano and he’s inches away from your body. His breathing quickens and he feels his mouth water, getting ready to let his fangs descend down and bite. He wants to grab you but he wants you to turn around so he can look at you.

You turn around quickly and your body jumps, making you gasp at his close proximity. Your hands involuntarily squeeze on the bottle, making it shatter in your hands and making you cry out. 

You gasp as you feel shards of glass get pierced into your palms. You drop the remnants of the bottle on the floor and watch the glass fall at your feet. Letting out a frustrated groan, you stare at your palms filled with glass as blood starts to quickly leak out of the wounds, the pain stabbing at you over and over. 

The scent of you floods his nose and makes his eyes roll back. The frenzy inside him thirsty for blood over overtook everything inside him. Elvis lets out a frustrated groan and touches you for the first time. It sends an electric shock through his body and combined with the blood spilling out of you, he is on fire. 

His grasp in your wrist is tight and he can tell you notice the unusual amount of strength he has. 

“What the fuck is wrong with you?!” He barks loudly, sending another chill through your body. You try to back up and the piano keys hit your thigh, making a tumultuous amount of sounds behind you as you try to get free from his grip. Your balance gets wobbly and you place your other hand on the keys to keep yourself from not topping over. He looks at the keys covered in your blood and he feels his eyes burn as they start to shift into the terrifying black and red hues. 

The more you move, the more blood comes out of your wounds, and the sound of your scared heartbeat pounds loudly in his ears. 

The pressure of this only makes the shards of the glass go deeper inside your hand and you cry out again. 

“Ahhh! Please, I'm so sorry about this. Let me clean this up,” you cry. You glance over at the other hand he is holding up and see the trails of blood drip down your arm and his, along with his fingers also covered in your crimson blood. Your eyes grow wide and your breathing becomes uneven. 

“Get the fuck out,” he growls violently, disgust filling his voice. Your body shakes uncontrollably and he quickly lets go of your wrist, your feet try to scurry away but they feel like jello, and you manage to stumble your way to the door. You pick the large shards out of your palm and throw them on the floor. You don’t care about the mess you’ve made you just need to get away from him.

You slam the door and he hears the ding of the elevator and the descending of it down to the basement. 

He can’t control the descending of his fangs any longer and hisses when he feels them. He drops to his knees in the middle of the suite looking at your blood dripping down his hand and arm. There was no control left in his body and wanted, no, needed to taste you. Dripping like decadent honey down his body. 

He licks his finger carefully and groans deeply when he tastes you. It was the best thing he’s ever had. His tongue laps up the rest of what’s on his hand and licks up his forearm not leaving anything behind. 

He instantly felt his strength rise and his hunger subside. You were perfect, so fulfilling he couldn’t get over it. There was not just one word to describe how to taste. You were sweet and savory and overwhelmingly delicious. He's never fed on anyone like you. Most people were just satisfactory but not you. Oh no, you were the most satisfying thing that graced this planet. 

“Oh my god, fuck,” he hisses. 

He looks at the shards of glass left on the ground and carefully picks them up. He was going to save the last of the remnants for another time and savor you. 

His breathing remains heavy and uneven and cusses under his breath. He walks over the the piano where your remaining blood was spilled. He places the shards of glass carefully on top of the instrument and sits down on the bench. His eyes cannot comprehend what he has in front of him. He wipes his finger across the ivory key, gathers it on the top of his finger, then places it in his mouth. Another shock wave of pleasure hits him as he swallows. His hand grapples onto the lip of the piano top where he tries to calm his breathing. 

Jerry comes barreling in the door looking at him hunched over at the piano and stops in his tracks when he also smells your blood. 

“Oh god EP, are you okay? What the hell happened?”

“I… I don’t know. I wanted to bite her so bad and she got so nervous around me and broke a bottle,” he says in a daze, holding up the shards in his hands. 

“God she is amazing… I’ve never experienced anything like this… I want to keep her around,” he instructs. 

Jerry’s face grows panicked and he shakes his head. 

“EP I-I-I don’t think that’s a good idea. You can barely control-,” he says before Elvis cuts him off. 

“You do not tell me what I can and cannot do you hear?!” He commands, raising his voice and striding quickly to look him in the eyes.  

Jerry looks down at the floor and nods his head in agreement. 

“Write a letter to housekeeping that I want her to come back up here tomorrow. I want her here permanently,” Elvis says gruffly. 

Elvis moves past Jerry and out the suite doors. 

“NO, EP where are you going?!”

He quickly runs down the stairs in a flash and can smell you in the garage. Your wounds are bandaged but the scent of you is something he’ll never be able to forget for as long as he lives. 

He hides in the shadows as you briskly walk to your car. The sound of your fast heartbeat gives him a smile as he inches closer. Then, he hears you weeping, struggling to get air in between sobs. His heart suddenly ached for you, seeing you sad made him want to comfort you in some way. 

You pop your head up from the steering wheel, feeling a particular set of eyes on you, but Elvis is already back upstairs in the Penthouse. He sits down on the sofa and takes a moment to breathe, contemplating what he wants to do about you.

*

Day 2 With You

One of the worst things about his curse, he didn’t sleep. He no longer could rest in the traditional sense and the constant wandering thoughts that swarmed his head were like a dense fog. The scent of you lingered in the suite and it only made Elvis more desperate for you. He wanted you back up here so he could bask in your presence and try to figure you out.

He paced the rooms all night, trying to rationalize why you didn’t succumb to being compelled by him. He hadn’t experienced anything like this in the last few years he was a vampire. There had to be a rational explanation. He tried to blame it on the fact he was starving and he wasn’t focused. He wanted to try today and see what would happen. He felt physically stronger just from the small amount of blood he consumed. His eyes were a much more vibrant blue and his skin didn’t look so ghostly.

He continues to grow restless and looks at the clock. It was only one o clock and he let out a frustrated growl. He quickly rushes to the door and peers out into the hallway.

“Call her up here. I want her up here now.” He barks.

The men look at each other nervously and stay silent. 

“I’m not asking again!” He shouts, making everyone jump.

Jerry was the first to face him but kept his head lowered.

“She doesn’t start til three… that was the agreement with the hotel…” he says sullenly.

Elvis grunts and frustratedly puts his hands through his hair, “fuck, fine. You get her up here the second the clock turns three.” He barks before slamming the door. He wallows in his own self-despair for the next few hours until he finally sees the clock reach three and gloats with happiness.

He could hear your nervous heart from down in the basement and get closer and closer as you rode the elevator up there. 

You quickly make your way to the door and step inside. The decedent smell fills your nose again and you quietly close the door behind you. There’s so much more light in the room today and as you turn around, you realize the curtains are all open, letting in that fresh sunlight. Your eyes dart to the moving figure moving in your peripheral. Elvis stands a few feet away from you in all black again, a white shirt buttoned down to the middle of his torso and his hair perfectly combed back in his signature way.

He smiles to himself, thankful he didn’t completely scare you away and glad he could be in such close proximity to you today. The sound of your nervous heart filled his ears and didn’t stop the more you looked at him. He had to admit you were stunning, the way you looked was like something out of a book, too perfect for words. Your beauty outshined anyone and he was in awe.

Your mouth felt dry and you weren’t sure what he was going to say to you after yesterday’s events but had to try to talk to this brooding man before you.

“H-hello, Mr. Presley,” you say intimidated, giving a slight smile at the last second.

Your voice called out to him like a siren. The way you said his name made him feel something he couldn’t pinpoint. All he knew was he liked it. He liked you around and he liked his name coming from your lips. He noticed how smooth your skin was and it made him want to touch it. 

Touch her, touch her…

“Hello, y/n. I’m glad you’re here,” he says with a grin. He makes his way toward you in a slow, nonchalant manner and raises his hand out in front of him. 

He waits in anticipation for your skin to touch his. He didn’t care about the noticeable temperature difference, he just needed to know what it felt like.

You realize he’s not wearing any sunglasses today and can see how blue his eyes are for the first time. They’re electric, so captivating, and alluring. They’re like clear blue tropical waters, something you’ve only seen in books. No photograph could properly capture this shade of blue and you just wanted to swim in them. This makes your heartbeat flutter again and you try to regain focus on what Elvis is saying to you. He smiles to himself as he watches you analyze his features.

“I’m very sorry for how I acted yesterday. Maybe we can start over. I hope you don’t think I’m a rude asshole,” he suggests with a chuckle. 

He watches you look down at his hand waiting for you to grab it. You carefully wrap your fingers around his large hand and shake it. He holds his breath, relishing the sensation of your warm skin on his. It felt perfect and he thinks he found his new obsession.

You.

You look up into his eyes willingly for the first time and meet his alluring blue eyes, melting into them.

“It’s alright Mr. Presley, I was also a bit nervous yesterday and wasn’t myself.” You assure. You notice he still has your hand in his grasp, rubbing the faintest circle on the back of your hand distracting you from making a coherent thought. He wanted to tease you, make you fall apart for him and he knew you had the same reaction to his touch as he did with yours. Even though his temperature was off from yours, the way his skin felt on yours was obsessional. The way it tingled effortlessly through your body down to your toes and you wanted more. He loves it when he hears your heart continue to dance in your chest and makes his gaze intensify. 

“Are you feeling better Mr. Presley? You were very…cold yesterday,” you say shyly.

He lets out a small hum before answering, “Never better honey. You definitely brightened up my day,” he says coyly. 

He watches how your cheeks flush red, unable to resist his charm. He regretfully lets go of your hand and starts to walk toward the couches.

“Please, sit with me. I want to get to know you better,” he coos, drawing you in and compelling you to his every last wish. Standing there unable to speak, you nervously smile and shake your head at him.

“No, that’s okay Mr. Presley I don’t sit down in the guest's spaces when I’m on the clock. I really should get started cleaning.” You defer. 

How the hell… he thinks.

“Oh no, please, I insist,” he says cheekily, hoping you will finally listen to him.

“That’s okay Mr. Presley. If you want, you can ask me questions while I clean, I’m okay with that,” you say cheerfully. Turning to your cleaning cart you left here last night, you grab a trash bag and begin to clean up the remnants of last night's party. 

He was beyond baffled. He has never experienced any human to so easily resist a vampire’s abilities. He needs to try and find any lore that talks about this. There had to be a logical explanation.

You quickly glance over at him sitting on the couch, watching you like a hawk with a smirk on his face. 

“What did you want to know about me?” You ask, picking up bottles and throwing plates away. 

Elvis hums softly to himself, trying to find the words to ask, “How old are you?” 

“I’m 30, but I really feel like I’m 16 still,” you quip cutely. You hear a low chuckle come from him. “How old are you,” you throw back to him. 

“Hmm, I guess I’m 38 but sometimes I feel 33, maybe even 21 at times but based on how many times I’ve traveled around the sun, I’m just 38.” He remarks. 

“Okay, I’ll say you’re young at heart,” You say and you hear him chuckle. 

“What do you like to do for fun?” He asks next. 

This actually makes you pause and think because quite frankly, you don’t know. 

“Well, it’s hard to say… I work pretty much all the time so the days I do have off, I just clean up my apartment or go swimming or something. I just don’t have a lot of time for fun,” you say a bit defeated. He looks at you with sorrow in his eyes, hearing the sadness that is behind those words. 

“I’m sorry to hear that. That’s no way to live,” He noted. You nod in agreement as you tie off the trash bag and reach for another one. 

“Yeah, it’s not the easiest, but I get by and that’s all that matters,” you try to say cheerfully. 

“So, do you ever leave the penthouse?” You ask him cheekily. 

He snickers and nods his head, “only when I have to. I just don’t like it. There’s nothing out there for me,” he broods. 

“Ah I see… do you miss being able to walk down the street without being noticed?” 

“Sometimes, but my fans gave me all of this so I can’t complain,” he says stoically. 

You fall quiet but be doesn’t mind. He likes to watch you how you move in your clumsy little human way.

You move to the next room and he follows closely behind you. This was one of his guest bedrooms and he sometimes liked to read in here. It was dark and decorated with candles and had books along the walls. This was where he kept the books on the lore of supernatural creatures and history. He had a lot of time on his hands so reading was the only other thing to keep him occupied and not think about feeding so much.

He sits on the edge of the bed as you reach to dust the books and the shelves above the bed, something you didn’t get an opportunity to get to yesterday. His eyes wander over your body as you have your back turned toward him. He can’t help but stare at the curve of your ass and how your long hair flawlessly fell down your back. When you dusted, you made short little movements that made your body jiggle in the best of ways. Elvis keeps staring at you, wanting you to move more for him. You made short, cute little hums trying to reach the shelf and Elvis liked how you sounded.

A wave of hunger washed over him, but this time it was different. This hunger was for your body. Pure raging lust burned through him and wanted to have his way with you in this room. He didn’t enjoy sex anymore like he did when he was human. He would use sex to get whoever he was feeding on all excited and their heart pounding just enough before he sunk his teeth into them. He didn’t see it as pleasure anymore and thought of it as an easier way to get a girl in his most private room and feed to his heart’s content. It didn’t interest him anymore and he could barely remember the last time he made love to someone and really enjoyed it. He didn’t feel like he had enough control to be so close to a human and not think about taking a bite. It was too risky and he was trying to be better.

This wasn’t what he was thinking about though. Sure, it would be nice to feed on you in such a way but right now, all he wanted was to bend you over, rip your skirt off, and stuff you to the hilt with his cock. Making you moan his name over and over and beg him for more. God, he knew you would feel like heaven there was no doubt about that. He wanted to get you so wet and make your core throb for his cock. He already tasted your blood but right now he wanted to taste the arousal that would be spilling out of you once he made you nice and needy. It would be so easy for him to put his hands all over your body, discover where you like to be touched, and make you beg for it. His hands trailing over your soft skin, squeezing those perfect legs and spreading them apart so he can fit in between them and fuck you to his heart’s content.

He sucked in a sharp breath as he felt his cock twitch in his pants with just the thought of having you. He adjusted himself and knew you wouldn’t notice and sat back down on the bed. Those wandering thoughts were killing him though. You suddenly became his new addiction in a matter of twenty-four hours and he thought it was bad enough that he craved your blood, now he craved your body on a new unprecedented level. He wanted to watch you writhe on the bed and scratch down his back as his cock split you in two, all night long. 

Oh god no you can’t, he thinks. It’s too risky…

No, he can and he will. He needed to fuck you and have you make those beautiful sounds he knows you make when you’re getting pleasured.

He feels his cock grow harder down his leg and he starts to get uncomfortable. He starts to reach out to grab your arm to make you look at him but he doesn’t. He quickly retracts his hand and just takes in the view and bites his lip, trying to calm himself down.

You look over your shoulder at him and see where his gaze is directed at. Your cheeks feel on fire being the object this man is looking at lustfully. You haven’t gotten this much attention from a man in years and you can’t lie to yourself, you kind of like it.  

You get off the bed and fix the comforter, fluffing up the pillows as you stare back at him with a similar intensity. 

“Can I ask what you’re staring at?” You jest.

He presses his lips together to not show the deviant little smirk he wants to give you and shakes his head. “Nothing honey don’t worry. You’re just very beautiful that’s all,” he says calmly, ignoring the hard erection forming in his pants. 

His eyes continue to wander and they stop dead in their tracks when he sees your finger. It was faint, but you had a suntan line on your left ring finger. 

Fuck, she’s married…

“So you’re married?” He says flatly, trying to keep the agitation in his voice to a minimum.

“Huh?” You say confused.

“You have a suntan on your ring finger, I assumed it’s because you’re married and don’t wear your ring while you work,” he observes.

“Oh, well no, I’m not actually married. I’m just engaged and yeah I don’t normally wear the band at work so it doesn’t get damaged… You have good eyes, Mr. Presley,” you say jokingly. 

“Mhmm…how long have you been engaged?” he continues.

“A couple of years,” you say embarrassed.

Years?! What kind of fucking idiot would wait that long to marry you? he thinks angrily.

“Why is that?” He snaps. You shoot your eyes back to him and he’s now standing up, looking at you like he could jump over this bed and attack you.

“I don’t know… We haven’t gotten around to setting a date or picking a venue or anything. It just isn’t the right time,” you say sheepishly, defeat tainting your voice.

He knew he shouldn’t touch you, but you called out to him so strong he couldn’t fight it. 

“You deserve better,” he mumbles, reaching out and touching your cheek with his cold hand, rubbing his thumb softly there, giving your body a shiver. His eyes drink you in as he stands there with your face in his hand, chest beginning to rise and fall quicker. You watch as his chest heaves, inspecting every detail of your face and trailing down to your collarbone to the swell of your breast. He didn’t have to see you naked to know you were the most beautiful creature he had ever seen. It took every ounce of willpower he had left in him to not push you up against his body and kiss you. He wanted to kiss you passionately and feel your body become weak for him to take care of you. Your skin gets chills as he continues to stare at your body and he notices, bringing a smirk to his face. 

“If only you knew…” he trails off.

If only you knew how bad I want you…

You grab his wrist, feeling your breathing increase with his close proximity making the room spin. Your vision gets blurry and you grab onto him tighter. You wanted him to comfort you in way you didn’t quite know about. You just wanted his body close to yours, like that would fix all your problems. A complete shift in thought compared to yesterday when all you wanted to do was say thirty yards away from him. 

“Elvis, I-I -I should get back to work,” you say a little breathlessly. 

His chest continues to rise and fall quickly and he bites his lower lip, nodding his head to you. 

“Of course, I’ll leave you alone. Leave whenever you would like,” he says quickly. Before he turns away, he takes his hands off of your face and gives the back of your bandaged hand a kiss. His lips barely grazed your skin but the way his lips dragged down along your fingertips before he left was all too much to handle. 

The way his body screamed for more was frightening. Why did he want you so bad? He walked to the other side of the suite and felt like he was on fire. Every cell in his body wanted you and he knew it wasn’t going to disappear overnight. He knew you felt the same too, he could sense it. Just the way you looked at him or how your body desperately tries not to touch him but loses that battle instantly.

He grabs his wrist you touched moments ago and feels it tingle and your scent stays on him. 

More, you need more…

That stupid voice inside his head wasn’t shutting up and he knew this was going to be a very long night. He looked down at his pants and he sees the bulge in his pants waiting to come free. He winces and tries to ignore it for now. For the first time in a long time, he wanted to pleasure himself but would wait til you left. There wasn’t much else to clean in the suite so he knew it wouldn’t be long until you left.

After some time, he takes a shower and clears his head a bit. These last few days were overwhelming, to say the least. He wanted to know so much more about you but he was afraid to lose control with you around. He would keep you here all day if he could but he knew that wasn’t an option. The way you talked about being engaged bothered him. You didn’t seem overly enthusiastic about the whole thing and it seemed more like a burden to you. He didn’t know the whole situation, but from what he had observed in the past with other women, they were happy to be engaged and didn’t talk about it the way you had.

He wanted to make you happy and carry this weight you had on your shoulders. He didn’t know if it was because of your fiancé but he was determined to find out. Getting out of the shower, he drys himself off with a towel and puts on his black and red robe that had his initials embroidered on the left side of his chest. He looks at himself in the mirror and sees a pathetic creature. His eyes were still vibrant but he was still in need of you. 

He paces his room for a while, outweighing the negatives of having you around as his housekeeper. Other than the fact he could lose all control and kill you, he needed you to stay. Maybe this would be a good thing and he can learn some control. He wasn’t too confident on that part but he’d sure as hell try.

It was getting late and the sun was setting. His mind was wandering again and the craving for your body began to worsen. He hadn’t heard you rustle in the suite for hours and assumed you left already for the day. His mind kept replaying when he touched your hand and how you touched his. How satisfying you were just to be close to him was almost enough. 

But Elvis became greedy and it wasn’t going to be enough for him. He closed his eyes and all he could see was those pretty eyes matched with those pretty lips. Of how he wished those eyes could be looking into his while he fucked you on this bed. 

He felt his length harden and he groaned, wishing you were here right now, wrapping your lips around him and helping him come. He rubbed his eyes and wished he could get your body off his mind. 

He went to put on the tv and a devious thought popped into his head. He had this porn video he got a few years ago and for the most part, he liked it. He just wanted to distract himself, not think about you, and just block it all out.

He rummages through his tapes and finds the x X-rated movie hidden behind the box. He puts it into the receiver and sits on the end of his bed. Adjusting the volume, he watches the scene unfold before him. How the man starts kissing the woman passionately and the way she would moan because of it. His finger found her soaked panties and teased her there.

Oh fuck, I want to do that to you, he thinks.

 Elvis can feel his cock throb against his leg, begging to be touched. So much for trying to distract himself from you because that’s all he’s thinking about as he watches the TV. He starts to take his robe off, uncovering his body and looking at his leaking shaft.

Suddenly, his ears pick up a nervous little heartbeat. Yours. He doesn’t glance over at the door but he knows you’re watching. He stupidly forgot to close the door it seems.

Or he wanted you to stumble in on him in this condition and see what a mess you’ve made him…

He brings his hand up to his mouth and he spits in it, wrapping it around his length and he starts to rub it back and forth in his hand. You didn’t care what was on the TV you just wanted to watch him. He focuses on the tip of his cock, rubbing some of his precum along the shaft. There’s a vein that pops from his neck the longer he does this, making you wish you could just bite there. He moans from the feeling of this and hearing your breathing quicken makes him agonizingly needy. Every time he shut his eyes in pleasure, your face was there beckoning him to come apart.

The moans escalate from the movie and his hand picks up pace, making his own delicious moans that drown out the others. He focuses on your heartbeat and the sound of your blood rushing to your core, making you dripping wet for him.  

“Oh fuck,” he moans deeply. 

Another moan slips from his beautiful mouth and his hand jerks his length harder. Your breathing picks up and that need inside you grows. You feel so naughty, so dirty for even remotely like this. 

He likes hearing you get this way for him and wishes he could look into your eyes. But he relies on his senses to show him how you’re feeling. His eyes glance at the mirror and he can see how you’re looking at him. Your face dripping with lust and need.

God, I want you. I want you now, he trembles. 

“Mmm, yes… you like that,” he groans.

Your eyes meet in the mirror, his hungry, and yours, petrified. The sound of your scared little heart made Elvis’ mouth water. You sounded so perfect and wanted you here in his lap. But you don’t do that and run as quickly as you can out of the suite. Elvis feels frustrated that he scared you off. There was no point in trying to talk to you as that would probably freak you out more. 

He turned the tv off and groaned, looking at his hard cock dripping with precum. He wanted to come and make himself feel something good. He brought a towel with him from the bathroom and laid it on the bed. He stands at the edge of the bed, one knee bent up on the bed and focused on you again, and rubbed his hand along his shaft, moaning heavily as he felt his orgasm about to release. His mind keeps picturing how you’d look taking his cock, your tight walls hugging him as you took each inch of him. He grunts as he feels the heat form in his lower belly and his cock begins to twitch. His thick, white seed comes out of him quickly and he groans in pleasure. Images of you continue to fill his head and for the first time in a long time, he feels so good. He watches the last of his seed come out of him and he hunches over the bed, almost breathless. He could not wait to have you all to himself. 

There wasn’t a logical explanation for why he felt this way for you but he wasn’t complaining. He wanted to experience this feeling over and over. More importantly, he wanted that feeling to be with you. He wanted to see you tonight and be in your presence again. He quickly gets some clothes on and rushes out the door. His men throw him concerned looks and he doesn’t bother to tell them where he’s going.

He starts to run and follows your scent down the street of Paradise Road and before he knows it, he’s in front of a small apartment unit with your car in the front. He slips inside the front door easily as it is left unlocked. Elvis shuts it quietly and locks the deadbolt. The scent of you here was astonishing and made him grin in delight. There was another scent lingering in here though, a male’s mixed with alcohol. This made him annoyed but was more focused on finding you. He only heard your heartbeat in the apartment so he knew you two were alone again.

The squeak of the shower faucet directs his attention to the back of the unit. He carefully walks in that direction and you quickly walk across the hallways into the bedroom, never noticing Elvis there. He continues to walk slowly to your bedroom and he stops in his tracks when he hears you grunt frustratedly. He’s confused by your sudden outburst and wants to see what you’re doing.

He carefully peeks into the room and finds you on the side of the bed, the towel draped off of your body, and sitting there completely naked. He presses his lips together to not let out the moan he wants to let out. You were stunning, just as he had thought and he saw how your body ached with need. He watches as your fingers carefully slide down and find your aching bud. You take a sharp breath in as you discover how sensitive it is.

Rubbing it in slow circles, you feel so much relief, so much pleasure instantly that you’re pretty sure it’s not going to take you very long until you come undone. The amount of slick that came out of you was embarrassing but you didn’t care, you kept focusing on yourself. He hears how much wetness has gathered in between your legs and how you easily rub your slender fingers there, making you come apart.

Your hips involuntarily grind into your fingers and a louder airy moan comes out of you. Your index and middle finger glide through your sopping folds and moan more as you rub them on your clit, sending another shock in your body.

“Oh god,” you moan breathlessly, putting more pressure on your bud. 

Oh God, yes, he thinks, watching in awe. He starts to feel his cock grow hard again, wanting you unabashedly. He puts his hand in his pocket and rubs his warm length again. Watching you get off was so hot to him. He knew it was bad he was invading your privacy but god he could watch you for hours like this. Your heartbeat began to rise and by the look on your face, you were close to coming apart. 

You let your head fall back and squeeze your eyes closed, working yourself up to orgasm. He continued to rub his shaft trying not to make a sound watching you. 

“Ohmygod,” you moan out, “Oh my god E-Elvis,” you hiss and you gasp at what just came out of your mouth so easily. You sit there shaking, feeling the aftershocks of your orgasm reel through your body.

Elvis stops, looking wide-eyed at you. The way you moaned his name was heaven-sent and made him want to fuck you like never before. He was in just as much of shock as you were. He would have never thought that you would moan his name like that especially when you were pleasuring yourself. 

You sit there breathless on the bed and feel something staring at you. You snap your head in the direction of the door and a dark shadow moves in the corner of your eye. There’s nothing there but a huge chill runs down your body and your breathing continues to grow heavy. You were being paranoid and the shame and guilt ran through you. 

Elvis quickly ran to the living room so you wouldn’t see him. He could not believe what he heard and witnessed. The sound of the bedroom door closing followed by the switch of the lock made him want to get back to you. But it was probably best to leave you to have some peace. Today was a whirlwind even for him. He couldn’t wait to see you tomorrow and quickly went back to the Hilton.

*

The next day came and the clock hit three o'clock. But he wouldn’t call you up to the penthouse. Elvis also needed time to think. He needed to control himself so he wouldn’t hurt you. He took out the shards of glass that had your blood on it and would set it in front of himself, trying to withstand the want to taste it. He tried to get stronger in that sense for your safety. If he couldn’t do this, maybe he shouldn’t be around you anymore. He succeeded mostly when he was doing this little experimentation. His fangs would descend almost every time but by the time the end of the week came, he managed to hold back and have the utmost amount of strength.

But that wouldn’t stop him from checking in on you at night and watching you sleep. You were so peaceful laying there and he liked hearing your slow, soft breathing. He caught you a few times saying his name in your sleep and it made him so happy. He had to get stronger and get you back to the suite. 

On that Friday, he thought he was ready to call you back up to the penthouse but he had a sudden lapse of judgment and his eyes turned into the terrifying crimson orbs when he smelled your blood. He was so frustrated with himself, he thought he could be good and control himself but the beast inside him always won.

“Tell her not to come. I can’t do it,” he tells Jerry frustratedly. Jerry leaves the room quietly and does as he’s told. Elvis hears him make the phone call to housekeeping and he sits there frustrated with his head in his hands. Suddenly, Jerry pops back into the room frantically.

“She uhh.. she hung up on me,” he says in shock.

“She what?” He hisses.

“She hung up on me and the elevator is coming up here now,” he hisses.

Elvis stands up and growls, “fuck I’m not ready,” he grunts.

Jerry leaves the room again and the ding of the elevator sends chills through Elvis.

You come to the double doors with fumes radiating off of you as you are ready to give Elvis a piece of your mind…

*

Now

You stare motionless at Elvis, unable to say anything after everything he just described to you. You feel as though the whole world is going to come crashing down on you. Not only was Elvis a vampire, he craved your blood. So much that he barely had enough control to be around you.

So much more made sense now. The way he acted on his first day with you. It wasn’t that he hated you, he was starving for you. Letting his need for blood overshadow any rational thinking he had left in him. It scared you, how much he wanted you. It was the dark creature that resided within him that overtook his mind and made him an animal. The draw you had to him also scared you. This was all a mess. An engaged woman should have never been acting like that but you did and now your life will never be the same.

“So now you know, everything I was thinking that first week of seeing you. How you turned my entire world upside down and there’s nothing else I think about but you.” He states.

You stay silent, looking at his beautiful face that has so much hurt in it. You fidget with your clothes and wish this was all just a dream. 

“I don’t know what to say…” you mumble.  “You compelled Daniel I assume?” You ask. 

He nods his head, “yes. I shouldn’t have but he wasn’t going to go away,” he says with annoyance in his voice. 

“And you watch me… sleep?” You say with a shiver running down your back. 

He stands up to sit next to you on the same couch. You can’t help but recoil from him, so unsure of what he might do now. He picks up your hand and stills you, looking into your eyes intensely. 

“I understand if you never want to be around me again or ever do anything physical with me, but you deserve to know the whole truth. I’m sorry I’ve lied to you so much but it was for your safety. I’m trying to be better I promise you,” he pleads. 

“Elvis this is just so much for one day. I don’t know how to feel,” you admit. 

“I understand baby, I do. But I need you to know one thing; I’ll never stop wanting you. I need you. You’re all I need and more and the way my body feels for you is something that I can’t control.” He says frustratedly. 

You pull your hand away and get up from the couch, needing to put some space in between you two. 

“I need a second to think you’re so suffocating you know that?!,” you rasp, your nerves getting the best do you. 

“Please just, give me some time alone.”

He has so much betrayal in his eyes but he stands up slowly and quietly agrees. 

“I’ll be here… if you need anything,” he says solemnly. 

You rush to the spare bedroom and lock the door behind you. Like that really mattered. 

Elvis was a vampire. He craved you like nothing else on this planet and it scared you. He was never going away. He was going to find you no matter where you went. 

And secretly, way deep down, you liked it. 

Tagging:

@powerofelvis @burninlovebutler @neptuneismysister @velvetelvis @ccab @presleyenterprise @elvispresleyxoxo @loving-elvis

@prompted-wordsmith @sillybookmarks @dkayfixates @rosepresley @ellie-24 @rktismylife-blog @myradiaz @lookingforrainbows @elvispresleygf @tacozebra051 @thatbanditqueen

@18lkpeters @flwrs4aust @emma181873 @austinswhitewolf @eliseinmemphis @everythingelvispresley @chasingwildflowers @idontwanttoputanything @ohjustpeachy @elvisalltheway101 @austinsmutler @kingdomforapony @generoustreemystic @kendralavon7 @lettersfromvenus @claire-elvisgirl

@ashtag6887 @burnthheparaphilia @richardslady121 @jaqueline19997

@returntopresley @iloveelvis @rjmartin11 @that-hotdog @louisejoy86 @misspresley @cattcb @annapresley8

[imaginethezeldaverse]

Ahhh I love your work! Every work of yours I’ve read has been absolutely amazing, you write so beautifully. I was wondering if I could maybe request a Revali x reader headcanons of Rito mating season or heat/rut? Have a wonderful day/night as well!

Hmmm okay, I think I can give you a few off the top of my head, sure! Since we're talking about a mating season, I'm going to write reader a female/afab/child-bearing capable perspective, if that's okay. There's a headcanon I have that will involve that aspect (so trigger warning for that too btw - I'll add it in in the tags but just an fyi!) I also added a little mini fic in there for funsies lol enjoy!

It's overwhelming for him. Being with you is the first time his heat has ever truly affected him before, so the experience engulfs the poor Rito man. It's a new experience for you both.

He's scared he'll hurt you - like...actually scared. For as headstrong as he can be and how well he carries himself, he very much is still a hero - and that means no harm comes to people that don't deserve it. Especially you - who he loves so dearly and would give his ability to fly if it came down to it.

His instincts are so strong he almost can't control them this time. There's a sensation in him that needs to breed you - take you over and over until he knows he's successfully put a child in you.

Should you decide to help him, he's definitely not going to be gentle. You'll likely sustain some scratches, rug burn, and a few hickies here from his love bites. He's giving in to inhibition here, running with something more primal and animalistic than either of you are used to. But if that scares you - please heed his warning and leave! He absolutely would not hold it against you.

Afterwards, he's very cuddly and it's then you'll realize that he's made a makeshift nest out of a bunch of soft things he owned: garments, shed feathers, even all of his scarves that he's owned through the years. He'll hold you to his chest (and his heart is beating FAST), his chirps and trills are quiet but against your body you hear him clear as day. It takes a few minutes for him to slip back into a less animal-like frame of mind, so forgive him if he doesn't answer any questions or respond to you coherently right away.

Normally Revali had never had an issue with mating season before recent - without a mate to call his own, the ruts were never something he couldn't handle. However, after falling for you, the creation of an unbreakable bond of love and trust changes things inside him. His Rito DNA senses the deep affection he holds for you and ultimately alters his internal biology to reflect as such. So when mating season comes around, you're both blissfully unaware at first. Until you walk into his hut and find him doubled over. The scent of you hits him right away, and in a very rough, shaky voice he begs you not to come any closer. But you can clearly see that he's sweating profusely, feathers fluffed and tousled. He's disheveled and groaning in what sounds like pain so immediately you're thinking he's injured...or worse.

When you try to approach him again he raises his voice to leave him alone. "Please!" he begs - and the red alarms in your head are blaring because he is not one to beg for anything - "I need you...t-to leave..." his head hangs and his chest heaves as he tries to keep a semblance of his decency intact, "I c-c-can't...pro...tect you..." You look at him confused, protect you from what? There's currently no danger! Scanning the room, you still don't understand. But then you remember, from a book you'd read a while ago that Princess Zelda has lent to you (just so you could understand Rito culture a bit better) - spring always meant mating season. Your eyes connect with the foliage that peeks just outside of Revali's window - an elder tree in full bloom. So Revali was-- "Let me help you," you offer, realizing now why he seemed so pained. You didn't think about the decision, didn't think about the repercussions - all you wanted was for him to no longer be in distress. The black pupils of this emerald eyes withered to slits. His breathing picks up, a few short huffs away from a hyperventilation. With the last shred of coherent thought he could must, he exhaled out, "I'll...hurt...you..."

Perhaps it was your bravery, or maybe your caring, stubborn heart that would shrug off your coat, laying it on the ground before him. Revali watches you through his exasperated panting, the erection in his lower garments straining terribly, though he's trying to hide it. The groan he lets out sends a chill down your own spine when you move to gently cup his beak in your hands. As soon as you understood what was happening, you knew the risk of staying there. "I don't care, Revali...I know what you need..." his feather take on a more purple shade as he flushes, "...And I want to help you."

You barely have time to undo the bodice portion of your dress when your hands release his face and you turn to undress, because he almost immediately pins you down. His rush on your body has you landing a little awkwardly on your chest and stomach, but it's soothed by the sensation of long, soft fingered-feathers caressing your sensitive skin. The Rito's beak pecks everywhere he can reach, even plucking at your sleeves to release more of your skin from your dress. You feel his taloned foot wrap around your ankle, not necessarily doing anything to you other than anchoring you beneath him. His winged digits pinch your nipples to stiffness: the combination of those pulses of electricity and the very obvious hardness poking at your backside have you gasping already.

His rut makes him impatient; you know this as you already feel fingers circling your entrance, half to rile you up further, half to make sure you're ready. But again - Revali is impatient, and so up goes your dress, over your hips. There's brief shuffling behind you and then just as you brace your hand around what would essentially be his wrist, Revali is already spreading your legs and sliding between them. The pressure of him inside of you has you keening, and you're thankful for the little bit of foreplay you were given, making you just wet enough to accommodate him. The wing that toyed with your chest was now crowding around your neck, pulling your body upright and flush against his chest as he took you.

Revali is far less than gentle, the rough huffs and deep chitters falling over your skin as he held you still: one wing wound very loosely around your neck, the other gripping your thigh for purchase. His beak nibbled at whatever flesh he could reach. "Re...valiiiiii" you whined out, breath hitching mid thrust. But he could not hear you, his mind so incensed with fucking you to fullness, more avian than anything else as he slammed his hips into you. Yes, he would bed you multiple times that evening, and in multiple positions no less, spilling his seed so deep inside you, even he wasn't able to get you pregnant - he was surely going to take you like he planned on it.

------

After all is said and done, you eventually wake upon a bed of soft clothes and feathers. As you look down you realize it's shaped meticulously, as though it was made to have a form. It was then you realize his need to mate had him go through all of the motions: including building a nest for his mate. You look up at your Rito Champion, the tufts of his feathers much more relaxed than earlier as he rests. Your fingers gently stroke his beak, and the pleased chirp he lets out warms your heart. His wings wrap around your frame a little tighter; your hands waft through the down of his chest. You've no idea if this means you'll actually conceive or not - but you do know you don't mind in the least. You love Revali entirely, you wouldn't have offered if you didn't, and you're hoping that making love to him through his rut was proof enough. His beak finds your temple, carefully nibble and peck at the strands of your hair as if to preen you - it makes you giggle, his animal instincts still showing out in small ways as he settles down into sleep.

You'd assess any repercussions of his rougher handling when you awoke later, right now it just felt good to be in his arms like this.

[bratzkoo]

intro. second lead’s girlfriend

Author: bratzkoo | Credits to: @jintherapper​ for the banner Pairing: prince! jimin x duchess! reader Genre: angst, fluff, isekai Rating: 18+ Word count: 2.6k Warnings/note: it’s a product of my friends and i’s obsession with isekai-ng. isekai is basically being reincarnated but make it posh. 

summary: waking up to a different place. you began to realize you’re Prince Jimin’s betrothed that will die in the hands of a maid sent by an anonymous villain, this event will lead to him falling in love with the female lead and ultimately have his first real heartbreak. you will do your best to keep the both of you alive. you just need to break up with him, try to be the best wingman to him and the female lead, then live a happily ever after. so why would he always choose you?  taglist (hit me up if you wanna be added): @aretha170 , @jinniegenie , @mooniyooni  .@we8joon​ , @njrwifey​

requests are open, but you can just say hi! | masterlist

A sharp intake of breath escaped my lips as my eyes fluttered open, my surroundings slowly coming into focus. This was not the familiar sight of my bedroom ceiling, but rather an ornate canopy adorned with intricate embroidery. Panic began to set in as I took in the lavish furnishings that filled the room - the plush bedding, the ornate vanity, the heavy curtains that seemed to block out the world beyond.

Where was I? How had I ended up in this unfamiliar place? Am I dead? I'm dead, aren't I? God, if you can hear me... Tell my best friend to delete my search history or just make her hide my phone. My head started to hurt as the fog of sleep began to clear, fragments of memories started to surface. Recollections of a life that was not my own - a life of privilege, of duty, and that hot guy! This is not... I'm not... I hurriedly looked at myself in the mirror. I was not myself. I stared at the reflection of a young lady, supposed to be me, her flawless skin, her long hair, and her pretty face. Thank fuck, I'm gorgeous! Now, I'm pretty sure this is a dream and I know who this person is. I've read this book before. The person in the mirror is Lady Y/N, daughter of Duke Hansol and betrothed to Prince Jimin. Why this dream? Why this person? I'm pretty sure Lady Y/N died before the setting of the book started. I should've dreamt that I'm Lady Hana- the female lead. I tried to slightly tap my face to wake myself up, but to no avail I was still in this body. Ok, my dream is definitely fucking with me. I pinched myself REALLY hard in my forearm. "Holy f--!" That hurts. I started to panic a little bit at the thought that maybe I'm not dreaming. Is this one of those isekai shits, cause if it was, you got to be kidding me! I was never hit by a truck! Take me back! Take me back! Lady Y/N's character is the role I had never sought and one that now seemed to threaten my very existence. Lady Y/N is supposed to die, I don't want to die! Do I even have control of what's happening? Because my supposed death is the event that would be the catalyst leading to Prince Jimin's second heartbreak.

My breath caught in my throat as the gravity of the situation sank in. I was trapped in the pages of a story that I don't know if I have control over. If I don't find a way to survive and change my course of fate. Then my life is doomed. I got to do what I got to do. I have to do whatever it takes to myself alive, maybe do some wingwoman stuff and guide Prince Jimin to Lady Hana. I've always wanted him to get the girl.

I'm sorry, Author! I have to change the future a bit.

I don't want to die!

As I was still trying to process my new reality, a gentle knock on the door startled me out of my frantic thoughts.

"My lady? Are you awake? His Highness Prince Jimin requests your presence in the garden for breakfast," a soft voice called from the other side.

My heart raced. Prince Jimin? Already? I wasn't prepared for this! But I knew I had to face him sooner or later if I wanted to change the course of this story and since when did I live with him in one castle?

"Y-yes, I'll be right there," I called back, wincing at how shaky my voice sounded. Based on the memories inside my head, it's an arranged marriage and I'm pretty sure we're not in love.

I mindlessly rang the bell to call the maids to help me get ready. Thankfully, muscle memory seemed to kick in. My hands moved almost on their own as the maids dressed me in a beautiful pale blue gown that complemented my complexion perfectly. I took a deep breath, steeling myself for what was to come.

As I made my way to the garden, my mind raced with possibilities. How should I act? What should I say? I needed to start distancing myself from him, but I couldn't be too abrupt or suspicious.

The moment I stepped into the sunlit garden, I saw him. Prince Jimin stood near a beautifully set table, his back to me as he admired some flowers. Even from behind, he was breathtaking - back view for days, perfectly styled hair, and an aura of regality that seemed to make the very air around him shimmer.

Then he turned, and I felt my breath catch in my throat. The book hadn't done him justice. His eyes, warm and kind, lit up as they landed on me. A smile, gentle and inviting, spread across his face. His lips, fuck, he's prettier than me.

"Y/N," he said, his voice rich and melodious. "Good morning. I hope you slept well?"

For a moment, I forgot all about my plans to distance myself. I forgot about the danger I was in. I forgot everything except the way he was looking at me. Oh God, his face card.

"G-good morning, Your Highness," I managed to stammer out, dropping into what I hoped was a passable curtsy. "I... yes, I slept well, thank you."

He chuckled, the sound warming me from the inside out. "Please, Y/N. How many times must I ask you to call me Jimin when we're alone? We are to be married, after all."

The reminder of our engagement snapped me back to reality. Right. I had a mission. I couldn't let his charms distract me from staying alive and steering this story back on its proper course (without my death- of course!).

"Of course... Jimin," I said, trying to keep my voice steady. "Shall we have breakfast?"

As we sat down to eat, I couldn't help but steal glances at him. How was I supposed to push this man away? As we settled into our seats, Prince Jimin's eyes never left me. He reached for the teapot, his movements graceful and deliberate.

“Allow me to pour your tea, Y/N," he offered, his voice warm and inviting.

Ding! Ding! Ding! I swear this man graduated in the University of Green Flag Men. I started to hesitate, my mind racing. This may be the only chance to start creating some distance. "Oh, that's not necessary, Your High— I mean, Jimin. I can manage," I said, trying to keep my tone light but firm. A flicker of confusion passed over his face, but he recovered quickly, flashing me that heart-stopping smile. "Nonsense, I insist," he said, already filling my cup. "I enjoy taking care of you."

WHY?!

My heart skipped a beat at his words, but I reminded myself of my mission. I couldn't let his charm sway me.

"Thank you," I murmured, deliberately avoiding his gaze as I reached for a pastry. I took a bite of a chocolate macarons that instantly melted in my mouth. Author, I promise I won’t change the plot that much, I’ll even live my life just eating this macarons! "I thought we could spend the day together," Jimin suggested, his tone hopeful. "The royal gardens are particularly beautiful this time of year. Perhaps a picnic by the lake?" I nearly choked on my tea. A whole day alone with him? That was the opposite of what I needed. "Oh, I… I'm afraid I can't today," I stammered, my mind scrambling for an excuse. "I promised Lady Jihyun I would help her with… with her embroidery." Jimin's brow furrowed slightly. "Embroidery? I didn't realize you enjoyed such pursuits." "It's a… recent interest," I lied, inwardly cringing at how unconvincing I sounded. "I see," he said, a note of disappointment in his voice. He reached across the table, his hand covering mine. The touch sent a jolt through me, and I had to resist the urge to pull away too abruptly. "Y/N, is everything alright? You seem… distant this morning." I forced a smile, gently sliding my hand from beneath his. "Everything's fine, Jimin. I'm just… preoccupied with thoughts of my duties." "Your duties?" he echoed, looking perplexed. "Y/N, your only duty is to be yourself. That's all I've ever asked of you." His sincerity made my chest ache. Author, I might need him to not be so perfect. I begged of you if I need to push him away, I need every fiber of my body not want to jump this man.

“I appreciate that, truly," I said, trying to infuse my voice with a conviction I didn't feel. "But as your future… wife, I have responsibilities to consider. To the kingdom, to your family." Jimin leaned back, studying me with those intense eyes. "You've never spoken like this before, Y/N. What's changed?" I bit my lip, avoiding his gaze. "Nothing's changed. I'm just… growing into my role, I suppose." A tense silence fell between us. I could feel Jimin's eyes on me, searching for answers I couldn't give. Finally, he spoke, his voice soft but determined. "Y/N, look at me," he requested. Oh? Look at me, baby. This isn’t you.

Reluctantly, I met his gaze. "Whatever's troubling you, whatever doubts you're having, please know that you can talk to me. Our marriage may have been arranged, but I want us to have a good relationship. I want us to face everything together." His words were like a dagger to my heart. How could I explain that I wasn't really his Y/N? That I was an imposter trying to save my own life? "I… I need time, Jimin," I managed to say, my voice barely above a whisper. "To adjust, to… to be worthy of the role I'm to play." Jimin's expression softened. He reached for my hand again, and this time, I let him take it. "You are already worthy, Y/N. More than worthy. But if time is what you need, then time you shall have. Just promise me you won't shut me out completely." I nodded, not trusting myself to speak, as we finished our breakfast in silence.

As the days passed, I found myself caught in an intricate dance of avoidance and duty. Every shared meal, every stolen glance from Jimin, felt like a step closer to my impending doom. It didn't help that I don't know who or what killed me. I had to find a way to push him away, to make him see that our arranged marriage was a mistake.

I really can’t take the direct approach and ask him to cancel our engagement, as Y/N’s father… well my father now, he’s not going to like this.

I need to figure out another way that will end this engagement and not bring embarrassment to myself or my family, get this over amicably.

As I see Prince Jimin, approach me with a smile on his face and a bouquet of flowers in his hand. It took all of my self control not to face palm right there and there.

This fucking simp! Does he have feelings for Y/N? How will I live peacefully? Let me break the engagement pls pls pls!

As the days turned into weeks, I found myself growing increasingly desperate. No matter how hard I tried to distance myself from Jimin, he remained unfailingly kind and attentive. It was maddening, and I was running out of ideas. Then the King announced that there’s going to be a royal ball, a grand affair with nobles from all corners of the kingdom and in special attendance, my father. I wasn’t so hang up on the not embarrassing myself anyway, since the start of the book is almost coming to a close meaning my death sentence is right at the corner. I saw this as my chance to finally push Prince Jimin away for good and onto the arms of the female lead.

On the night of the ball, I put my plan into action. I arrived late, my hair in disarray and my gown deliberately wrinkled. Gasps and whispers filled the ballroom as I made my entrance, stumbling slightly for effect.

Jimin's eyes widened as he saw me, but to my frustration, his expression quickly softened into one of concern. He hurried to my side, gently taking my arm.

"Y/N, are you alright?" he murmured, his voice low enough that only I could hear. "You seem... unwell."

I forced a laugh, too loud and sharp. "Unwell? Nonsense! I'm having a wonderful time already!"

I pulled away from him, making my way to the refreshment table. With deliberate clumsiness, I knocked over a tray of glasses, sending crystal and champagne scattering across the floor.

"Oops!" I exclaimed, not bothering to hide my lack of remorse. Surely now, Prince Jimin would be furious, embarrassed by my behavior because even I was. Pls, God let this be over.

But when I turned to gauge his reaction, I found him already at my side, a gentle smile on his face as he addressed the shocked onlookers.

"No harm done," he said smoothly. "Accidents happen. Please, everyone, continue enjoying the ball." Fuck you, Prince Jimin! I really can’t with his kindness, I don’t need your understanding right now!

He turned to me, his eyes full of nothing but warmth. "Are you hurt, Y/N? Let's step outside for a moment, get some fresh air."

Frustration bubbled up inside me. Why wouldn't he just get angry? I allowed him to lead me to a secluded balcony, my mind racing for my next move.

"You must be feeling overwhelmed," Jimin said softly, once we were alone. "The pressures of court life can be daunting, I know. But please remember, you're not alone in this. I'm here for you, always."

His sincerity was like a physical ache in my chest. I turned away, unable to bear the kindness in his eyes.

"You don't understand," I muttered. "I'm not... I'm not who you think I am."

Jimin's hand on my shoulder was gentle but firm. "You're Y/N," he said simply. "The woman who is going to be my wife and I care for your well being. Nothing else matters."

I squeezed my eyes shut, fighting back tears. This was all wrong. He wasn't supposed to care. He was supposed to fall for Lady Hana, not waste his affection on someone who wasn't even the real Y/N.

"Let's return to the ball," Jimin suggested after a moment. "We'll face it together. And if you want to leave early, just say the word."

As we reentered the ballroom, I caught sight of our reflection in a gilded mirror. Jimin, ever regal and composed, and me, a disheveled mess beside him. Yet the way he looked at me, you'd think I was the most precious thing in the world.

I realized then that my plan had backfired spectacularly. Instead of pushing Jimin away, I'd only drawn him closer. And worse, I was beginning to understand why the real Y/N wanted to get married to him.

As we moved through the crowd, Jimin's hand a steady presence at the small of my back, I knew I needed a new strategy. Because with every passing moment, every kind word and gentle touch, I was falling deeper into a trap of my own making.

And I had no idea how to escape.