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sorryimananti-romantic · 4 months ago

Text

Star 1117

human!wooyoung x alienoid!reader

space apocalypse au

genres and warnings: fluff, angst, slow burn, bittersweet i hope, bits of hurt/comfort, alien yeosang and human jongho scs, coachella yun cameos, violence warnings

wc: 26k

synopsis: on your mission to save your home star 1116, and to find the last planet in the temporal nexus galaxy called star 1117, you arrest the human from earth- jung wooyoung. you find that he's been receiving cryptic messages from your galaxy, ones that make you question your purpose. together, you uncover secrets and take big risks to find the truth about the galaxy and star 1117's existence while wooyoung teaches you the true meaning of 'home'.

manager-nim: @eightmakesonebraincell ("or just die bro" "yeah it's not that hard" - famous last words from loren and yumi) (disclaimer: ^said in the context of the fic)

Home is not where the heart is.

You’ve always thought that it was a very human thing to think of the ‘heart’ as anything but the organ that it was. The heart’s only function was supposed to be to pump blood into your body and keep you running. But often, it was romanticised as a repository that stored human emotions in all their hideous glory. That was human nature in its nutshell which eventually doomed your forefathers, resulting in a bitterness that etched itself on the strands of their genes of which you carried generations worth of despite your half-human nature.

The bitterness was justifiable. Your great-grandfather did not know that when he left his home, the planet Earth, he would get lost in the endless expanse of space and never find his way back. You often wondered if the humans ever even looked for him but you wouldn’t be surprised if they hadn’t. Somehow, he ended up receiving help from the Nexi and ended up on a planet just like his homeland and died trying to find his way back.

It was him who introduced that saying- home is where the heart is. You often read his journals and found it strange how he described everything that was close to his heart- the family he had left behind, a ‘cat’ which was supposed to be some strange, harmless feline creature that often dwelled in the homes with humans, and a lot of other things that made little to no sense but often sparked curiosity in you. He had left his heart back on the planet Earth and he died trying to find his way back. Perhaps, his home was where his heart was. But to you…

Home was Star 1116, the land where your parents gave birth to you and the land where they were never accepted. The planet that resembled the Earth that had been their home had their forefathers never left in search of finding something similar. Home was the land that had raised you with its magnificent, tall, iridescent mountains and deep, dark valleys that glowed from within when it met the golden gleaming soil that lit up your planet. Home was a location- the place where you took your first steps and found out what it meant to be half human- dangerous yet protected. Home was the place they told you to leave because they were scared of what you could do, even though you looked just like them. You had a human heart, which was an insult, not a compliment, even though your father insisted that it was the latter.

Your heart was inside your body. Your home was tem-nex units away, so far that you could not even see it anymore. Your home was not where your heart was.

“Any more reminiscing and you will find that you can blast lasers through your eyes too.”

“Yeah. I’m getting tired of her sighing. It sounds awful,” Yeosang said but you ignored him, shooting a glare at Jongho who shielded himself as if you really were going to blast lasers from your eyes.

“You’ll be the first to know if I do,” you told him, tossing your grandfather’s drawing of his cat on the desk where it landed between a pile of journals. “Any update on our target’s location?”

“Just a few tem-nex units away now,” Jongho said, adjusting his vision glasses. “Wanna place bets? I have a feeling it’s one of our old human friends in a dusty old spaceship running away from the Nexi.”

“I have a feeling that it’s just a poor rock and our systems need a big software update,” Yeosang sounded tired even though all he had done recently was lay limp on his couch.

“I’m with Yeosang on this one,” you went towards him and he raised his hand to share a fistbump but you just pulled him up, earning a startled yelp from him. “Go check the exhaust outlets and our guns. If it’s a rock we need ammo to blast it. And I’m tired of hearing your tired voice when all you’ve done is rot the last few days.”

“Nothing’s fun anymore,” Yeosang pouted, collecting himself. “Our exhaust outlets are fine, our ammo is all loaded. We still have no clue about Star 1117’s location or purpose. I’m just making the same old mandatory assessments and I’ll come back right here and lie down just like before-”

Your pupils must have contracted in warning because he raised his hands in surrender before scurrying off. Jongho’s low giggles echoed in the control room and you took your seat back, sharing a grin with the human. It was always fun to bully the oldest in the room, especially to Jongho who was the youngest and the only human aboard.

You were both in the middle of checking if all the buttons on the panel of your rather old spaceship were working, with you making a few quick repairs, when Yeosang’s hasty footsteps caught your attention. He took a few deep breaths before he knocked on the metal wall to get Jongho’s attention.

“Is our radar not working?”

“It is,” Jongho confirmed, “What’s wrong?”

“I can spot a spaceship not far from our current location- unidentified,” Yeosang said and Jongho frowned, checking the radar. He looked at you and you touched the panel, allowing the silver, branch-like neurons to extend from your fingertips and read the device, trying to assess any damage but detecting none.

“Radar’s fine. Are you telling us that it might be an unregistered spaceship?” You asked.

All the spaceships in your galaxy, the Temporal Nexus, were supposed to bear a location tracking device and if in the rare instance that a spaceship did not have one, it was never a good sign.

“Come, check it out,” Yeosang urged and the two of you uncertainly got up, following him towards the back of your ship to the window. Indeed, you could spot the outline of a rusty old spaceship in the distance and Jongho lent you his glasses so you could zoom in and take a closer look.

It was definitely not a Nexi spaceship, yet it was in Nexi territory, far from where humans had ever dared to roam. The only time humans had attempted to cross over was how your great grandfather made it to Star 1116, which led to a lot of complications with the planet Earth and its humans and eventually, the Temporal Nexus Accords were penned. The crux of it was that both Nexi and humans would follow these rules and regulations for harmony in space- harmony was a funny way to put it when the humans knew that they could easily be outmatched.

“It can’t be a human, right?” Yeosang asked, his glinting silver eyes indicating that he felt threatened. “It must be someone fooling around. Should we take a look or let it go?”

“It’s still an unidentified spaceship,” you reminded him. “We’re literally space patrol, Yeosang. We can’t let it go.”

“You know it was just an excuse to kick us out of Star 1116 because we were snooping around,” Jongho scoffed and you rolled your eyes- somehow, you were still more butthurt about it than the human himself. “But yes, we should take a look.”

“Alright, steer closer. Yeosang- you and me, dome, now. Get the guns.”

While Yeosang went to the storage, you hurried behind Jongho back towards the control room and pressed the button at the far end to get access to the ladder that led you to the observation dome. You made room for Yeosang and Jongho passed you binoculars. Crouching on all fours, you narrowed your eyes in focus as you peeked through the lens, muttering curses when you found how tinted the viewscreen was. There were human alphabets inscribed on the spaceship which confirmed your suspicions.

“Anything ring a bell?” Yeosang asked as he crouched down next to you, taking the binoculars from you. Yeosang was referring to the ships on the watchlist that you had been monitoring for a while now.

“Nothing. You?”

“I don’t see anyone inside. What are the chances that it’s abandoned?”

“Only one way to find out,” you smirked and Yeosang shook his head.

As Jongho decreased the speed when your spaceships got closer, you noticed something odd- almost like a few lights flickering inside the spaceship from what you could grasp, considering the heavily tinted viewscreen. You wondered what that was for. Yeosang warned Jongho to take care of the oxygen levels as he pressed the button on the glass dome, opening it and activating the manual shield just in time-

You got your answer in the form of a rocket colliding with your spaceship which rattled you despite the shield. You gripped at the shaft tightly, allowing yourself just a moment before joining Yeosang outside and asking him to lift the shield so you could prepare for the offensive. Yeosang passed you the revolver and you wrapped your hand around the hilt, a grim smile starting to spread on your lips as you allowed the neuron extensions from the tip of your nails to grow and slide inside the gun to wrap themselves around the bullets.

While Yeosang provided cover, shooting any rocket that came in your range, you fired and shut your eyes, waiting for the bullet to hit the exterior. As soon as you felt the collision inside you thanks to the neurons, you let the bullets sink into the spaceship so you could read it.

There was a single human on the spaceship, as young as you. Strangely, the fear factor the human was displaying was less than the aliens you had caught on patrol, which was commendable. Perhaps, the human was a fool and had no idea what he had gotten himself into- you may be half-human but that did not mean you were going to pity the intruder.

“He’s going to run out of ammo soon,” you opened your eyes, switching your weapon and helping Yeosang, shooting bullet after bullet that disintegrated the man-made ammunition in a mere blink. “I wonder how much he brought to have lasted this long- he’s so far from planet Earth.”

“I guess you’ll ask him soon,” Yeosang fired at the last rocket and snickered. You started making your way towards the ladder, preparing to gain access to the human’s spaceship and making sure to keep your revolver with you. Perhaps, the human would like seeing that in your hand.

When Jongho stopped the ship, you opened the hatch on your spaceship to access the ladder so the two of you could walk across to the other. You started knocking on the entry hatch once you reached the human’s spaceship but you didn’t get a response. You placed your hand on the surface and spoke, making sure your voice would be heard inside the vehicle.

“You can either open and welcome us, or we will welcome you. You won’t like that.”

A few moments later, the hatch opened with a loud shudder, allowing you both inside. You waited until it shut before walking forward, observing your surroundings which weren’t much, just equipment, until you heard a shuffle.

And then came in front of you a man, a human man who felt as familiar as Jongho whom you had spent all your life with, yet so different. Even though he looked at you with a sort of surprised glare, dark tendrils of his hair covering his furrowed brows, his presence had a warm quality about it and you wondered if it was a human thing- you had definitely felt it with the humans around you. Some of them.

He stood his ground, defenceless and squaring his shoulders with every passing second. “Welcome to my humble abode. I’m Jung Wooyoung, at your service.”

Yeosang raised a brow and looked at you- you were far too busy identifying the possible layers within that delicate voice. Your lips parted as if to say something but you couldn’t produce a single sound at the moment so Yeosang decided to take over.

“What in the stars is a human doing here alone?” His voice boomed in the room as he asked. “You’ve violated just about a handful of the Temporal Nexus Accords. Do you have any idea what that means?”

“Well,” he shrugged. “It’s not like I can go back. I’m wanted on Earth too.”

“And you thought it was a good idea to roam around? You’re almost out of food and you just ran out of ammunition-”

“But it looks like I haven’t run out of luck,” he breathed, collecting himself with a wink in your direction which threw you off. “What do you usually do with people like me?”

“Escort them to the station for judgement.”

“Yikes,” he said. “I have so many questions but I’ll hold back.”

You spotted the nervous shift from one leg to another as he put his hands in the pockets of his black trousers. He was obviously considering all his options which frankly were quite limited. He had just about two choices- get escorted to the station or face execution right here.

“How did you make it so far?” You asked, frowning deeply. “Even the Nexi find it hard to avoid the patrol when they try to reach human territory.”

“Let’s say I possess a special set of skills,” he grinned wickedly. “Stealth, for starters.”

“I don’t quite believe that,” Yeosang commented.

“Well, your ship did not catch mine on radar, did it?” Wooyoung asked and Yeosang confirmed that it hadn’t. “Also, when you’re running from two groups of species, you find that there is no better fuel to reach the victory line than desperation.”

“Why are the humans after you-”

“What do you mean by victory line?” Yeosang asked at the same time and you both exchanged glances- this sure was an odd individual. You urged Yeosang to continue.

“How far did you want to travel with such limited supplies?”

“Not that limited,” Wooyoung began to argue but you raised a hand in the air, making him raise both his hands in mock surrender. “Alright, I’m doomed anyway. Go ahead. Finish your job.”

“Why are you here, and why are the humans after you?” You asked, stepping towards him. “Answer properly this time.”

“I’m looking for someone.”

“In space?” You looked at Yeosang, knowing that the human wasn’t telling the whole truth. “And so far away from your home?”

“Yes, and I’m not sure if that someone is still… well, alive, in one form or another. But I needed to check a few things for myself,” he said in all seriousness.

“You’re looking for a human? Did your human get lost in space?” Yeosang asked.

“Not my human,” Wooyoung let out a frustrated sigh. “It’s complicated, but I’m not sure if it’s a human or an alien I’m looking for. Could definitely be one of the humans from the group that got lost around here a few decades ago- a descendant of them. I don’t think they got ‘lost’, by the way, but maybe that’s just me.”

You licked your lips in thought, trying not to look at the very bewildered Yeosang but you both knew that the humans he was talking about must be your ancestors and the group of them. “What’s it to you, then? Who are you to try to find them?”

“Again, I’m not trying to find them, they must be dead by now, but I’m curious to investigate. I was obviously a fool for taking matters into my own hands, but they didn’t take me seriously, the people back on Earth,” he admitted. “And when I started looking into the matter, they tried to get rid of me. Subtly. But I’ve always been known to possess maniacal qualities, and here we are.”

You grimaced at that, “So you’re an idiot. Yeosang, take him.”

“Wait,” Wooyoung snatched his hand away before Yeosang could grab him. “Let me grab my things.”

“You won’t need them,” you told him. “You should have stayed back on Earth. You might have lived longer.”

With that, Yeosang strapped the vitals regulator watch on Wooyoung and you started to leave the ship, wanting to go back to the comfort of your own ship as soon as possible.

“You’re a human, aren’t you?” Wooyoung asked and you stopped in your tracks, turning back to meet his eyes as a deadly silence overtook. “He’s an alien, this one, even though he looks human, but you… You must be human.”

“I’m an alien,” you glared at him, the neurons from your fingertips branching like claws to prove your point. “And it would do you good to shut your mouth.”

However, you weren’t sure if your words triggered him or if he just had a mouth on him- was it a human thing? Jongho was talkative but a different type- cracking random jokes.

But this man?

He was getting on your nerves. You had to admit that his lung capacity was admirable considering the long string of sentences he sprouted as soon as he entered your spaceship. You caught a few words- something about a ‘cool’ spaceship, some technical stuff that to your horror, Yeosang was happy to provide his input for, and then something about his own rusty old spaceships and how ‘humans could never’.

“Oh, now that’s a human if I’ve ever seen one,” Wooyoung clapped his hands as soon as he saw Jongho.

“How can you tell?” Yeosang asked. “I thought I looked like a human too.”

“Nah, you’re too pretty,” Wooyoung waved a hand in dismissal and you blinked. “It’s the sheer… presence of him. You wouldn’t understand.”

“Oh, I know what you mean,” Jongho started chuckling after he recovered from the initial surprise of seeing a human on board- a human that was not a resident of one of the 1117 planets in this galaxy.

“I don’t know what you both mean,” Yeosang almost pouted.

“Come closer,” Wooyoung called and you watched in horror as Yeosang obeyed, the three of them huddling close to each other. “This human- the warmth, the smell-”

“You’re telling me you could tell I’m human because I stink like one?”

While your crew burst into giggles, afraid to laugh properly in fear you would react aggressively- which you seldom did but you made sure the fear factor was a constant- Wooyoung started profusely explaining that he didn’t mean it like that but there was something about humans that smelt and felt like home to him. He did not comment on how you had admitted that you were human too.

“Oh, you humans and your associations with the word home,” you spat, getting morbid flashbacks of the time your father tried to explain how association worked and failed. “Lock him in the cell- he’s too talkative.”

“Hey!” Wooyoung yelled at you but Yeosang reluctantly patted his back, telling him the cell wasn’t that bad, just a room where he could take his final rest before being presented in the station for his execution, which did nothing to help the human. Meanwhile, Jongho started going through Wooyoung’s things and you joined him, finding a few strange food wrappers and pens, a compass that made you smile in awe because it looked very much like the one you possessed, a bundle of notes and folders, an odd device that you set aside for the time being, and then his own journal.

You held the journal in your hands and allowed yourself to look at his memories associated with it, shutting your eyes and watching the images that flashed in your mind-

Grass. More vibrant than the grass on Star 1116, decorated by little colourful flowers that you had always heard of but never seen. The laughter of a woman and the laughter of kids, spreading warmth through your chest. Large bodies of water, as blue as the sky, welcoming you in its cool embrace.

And then… anger and confusion. Screaming and shouting- your face suddenly felt wet. Were those tears? You hear incoherent yelling and loud thumps of things as they smashed against each other. You felt terror consume every fibre of your being and you felt out of breath- you were running. Soon after followed a sense of dread before guilt consumed you-

“Captain- hey, y/n,” Jongho cautiously shook your arm, bringing you back to reality. “You good?”

You retracted the neurons and set the journal aside, realising your face was wet. “He knows about Star 1116.”

Jongho pursed his lips in thought. “Is that really something we should worry about?”

“He knows our ancestors made it to Star 1116,” you added for clarification. “He mentioned that he didn’t think they got lost in space like everyone claimed they did.”

“Ah… that complicates things, doesn’t it?”

“Are we sure the station wouldn’t have caught his spaceship on their system?” You asked, moving towards the control panel which was displaying normal readings.

“What are you thinking?” Yeosang’s voice interjected as he entered the room.

“I need to have a talk with Wooyoung,” you said, looking at your partners. “He intended to find Star 1116 and the humans living there and collect some evidence regarding them.”

“Well… he’s found them,” Jongho raised his hand. “I think his mission was successful in that case.”

“Half successful, and he might not know that Star 1116 is a habitable planet for humans. He might be thinking you’re from Earth.”

“One way to find out,” you stifled a devilish grin.

“Don’t go all kitty claws on him,” Yeosang warned with a chuckle and you hissed at him- he always used that phrase, having heard your father call you that when you were younger and more reckless with the alien traits that you inherited from your mother.

You told him that you would not need to do that. He was here on a mission and this was the perfect opportunity to use that to gain a possible ally. You took a closer look at his navigation equipment before going to your room to rest, taking the strange device that looked like a radio with you- you didn’t want the boys seeing you get emotional again-

And talking about emotions- why did the human’s overwhelming feelings cause your heart to clench in pain? Why did it bring tears to your eyes? You didn’t despise human emotions- you thought they were beautiful in their own strange way but never did you think you would be able to relate to them on an intrinsic level. Perhaps, it was the human in you. No matter how much you tried to repress it, it would always remind you that it was a part of you, integrating with your Nexi gene as one.

But you soon found out that there were other forms of emotions that involved tears, and not just the embarrassing ‘crying’ you had almost done earlier.

There were tears rolling down the cheeks of both the human and the alien in your crew as they laughed their lungs out. You had heard a bunch of inhumane noises in your sleep which prompted you to wake up and take a look, but the last thing you expected was-

“Are you having a fucking party here?” You grimaced at the sight of the three boys in a circle with half eaten food in between, noticing a bunch of new dishes that you hadn’t seen in a while, the fragrant scent of it filling your nose and almost calming you. Wooyoung looked at your disgusted expression and only laughed harder.

“This one was supposed to be in the cell,” you pointed at Wooyoung as you looked at Yeosang and Jongho in question. “What is going on?”

“He was complaining about being hungry and when he offered to make us food, we decided to check how good a cook he was,” Jongho answered. “Surprisingly good, turns out. You should have seen him in the kitchen, y/n.”

“Since the station hasn’t sent a message yet, that means they haven’t figured out that we have a human aboard. We could use him as our servant,” Yeosang’s eyes gleamed with mischievous hope.

“That’s what you think of me?” Wooyoung smacked his biceps, looking hurt. “I thought we were friends!”

“No one is becoming friends with anyone here,” you clapped, prompting the boys to start cleaning up. “Don’t make me call the station myself, Jung Wooyoung.”

“Aren’t you a boomer,” he clicked his tongue.

“A boomer?” You asked, wondering what that meant.

“A true boomer,” Wooyoung grinned, passing you a tray of food he had kept for you. “Basically means you don’t know how to have fun.”

“I’m not here to have fun,” you grimaced at the word and he pressed the tray into your hands before resuming tidying the floor, leaving you standing awkwardly in the middle. Yeosang caught your eye and urged you to sit and try the food and you reluctantly obeyed-

And immediately thought of home.

Home, when your grandfather and grandmother were alive and cooked the human dishes for you- the dishes that they had learned from their parents. You could taste the familiar spices that your grandmother loved in the broth Wooyoung made, the scent immediately transporting you to one of your happier memories when you didn’t have to worry about being an anomaly and could enjoy simple moments with your family. You looked at Jongho who was smiling knowingly- he could definitely understand what you were feeling right now.

“I can’t eat this,” you looked at Jongho.

“It’s okay, Captain,” he chuckled. “It’s just like our grandparents made for us, yeah? Go on, have a taste of the vegetables too.”

You hesitated but reluctantly took a spoonful of the vegetables with rice, a sense of dread washing over you but Yeosang’s hand on your back calmed you and you realised that maybe, the feelings of dread were present because you were scared to accept that there was a human on board who was making you acknowledge the human parts in you through food, of all things.

That’s what you disliked about being human- that you were so easily swayed.

Wooyoung watched you cautiously from a corner while he absently sweeped the floor with a broom- he hadn’t expected you to react that way and it was surprising to see the group of you interact. If you weren’t fully human, he wondered why you weren’t as hostile towards Jongho as you were to him.

You finished your food before you knew it, and though it annoyed you that Wooyoung was proudly grinning, you decided to give it a rest for now and focus on the more important matters.

“What is this device?” You placed the black rectangular, almost hollow box on the table and Wooyoung pursed his lips, tossing the broom in the corner and joining your crew on the table.

“What do you think it is?”

“A broken radio?” You asked, opening its back to show how it had no batteries. “I can’t read it.”

“And what would you mean by that, sweetheart?” Wooyoung asked and once again, you had to repress the anger bubbling in your throat at the term while Jongho and Yeosang shifted uncomfortably in their positions.

“I can read memories and emotions or feelings associated with objects, and I can’t read this,” you clarified for him. “And I want you to tell me why unless you want me to read you.”

“That’s… strange, actually,” Yeosang cocked his head, taking the device from you. “Are you sure you can’t read it?”

“I’m sure,” you confirmed, looking at Wooyoung. “So?”

Wooyoung’s hesitation was palpable. You narrowed your eyes in suspicion. “Don’t even think about lying,” you told him, the neurons protracting from your fingernails making him jump a little.

“Whoa, put your murder mittens away,” Wooyoung shielded himself with his hands raised between you. “You probably can’t read because it’s what it looks like- a broken radio. It has no deeper meaning-”

“Everything has a deeper meaning,” you glared at him. “You wouldn’t bring a broken radio to space, for starters. Have you been getting some sort of a signal?”

When he didn’t answer, you knew what you had to do. You looked at Yeosang who nodded and came in front of Wooyoung. “If you really want to get somewhere with her, you better cooperate.”

“I would, but I don’t know if I can trust her- you guys with the information I have,” he admitted, sounding serious. “I do receive signals sometimes, but they don’t really make sense. I’ve been able to trace them, though, and it looks like they come from around here.”

“An alien sending signals to a human on earth?” Jongho looked at Yeosang. “Doesn’t sound implausible. What for, though?”

“I wouldn’t know,” Wooyoung shrugged. “It’s mostly gibberish- I can’t make sense of it.”

“Did you at least note them down?” Jongho asked.

“Yeah, in a notepad- it should be in my bag,” Wooyoung said, getting up and grabbing his bag from the couch, shuffling through it while you made eye contact with your crew, all three of you as sceptical as the other.

“It’s not here?” Wooyoung looked at you.

“Everything that belongs to you is in that bag,” you said.

“We didn’t touch it,” Yeosang said, and the boys raised their hands in surrender.

“Did you drop it?” Wooyoung looked incredulous.

“I’m not that clumsy,” you got up, snatching his bag and looking through it yourself but finding no signs of a notepad. You shot him a dirty look. “You left it behind on purpose, didn’t you?”

“That thing?” Wooyoung pointed his finger outside, the veins on his neck and arms popping out in anger. “It contains everything I worked for. It’s the reason why I risked my life to come here, and you’re telling me that we left it behind because you were in a rush?”

“So it’s my fault now?” You scoffed in disbelief. “You could have mentioned you needed to get your little notepad when we were transporting you!”

“Well, I obviously did not want someone to see the contents of it!”

“Guys!” Jongho butted between you two, making you both sit down on the couch. “It’s okay. Wooyoung, just allow y/n to look into your head so she can copy everything that was on the notepad here for you. Simple! No biggie!”

“I won’t let her do that,” Wooyoung folded his arms. “That’s invading my privacy.”

“You’re invading our privacy by being here too,” you commented.

“Then throw me outside,” he simply said and you groaned loudly. Yeosang stifled a smile- he had never seen you so riled up and he made a mental note to thank the human later.

“Please, cooperate,” Yeosang requested gently. “She knows the importance of privacy and will do her best to not snoop around in your mind and only look through the contents of the notes. Right, Captain?”

You nodded. You opened your mouth to add that you couldn’t help it if the person you were reading unintentionally pushed a memory your way but Yeosang knowingly ignored you and continued. “Wooyoung, if we think the message you’ve been receiving is important, we might not deliver you to the station at all. You sound like an excellent navigator and… we kind of need that.”

“We don’t need that-”

“Oh, shut up,” Yeosang waved a hand and you pouted. “You can take your time thinking about it- we don’t have to do that now. But we will have no choice but to report you to the station if we can’t find some common ground.”

“Between death and joining you, there’s not much of a choice here, is there?” Wooyoung asked grimly and you almost felt sorry for the human. “Okay, go ahead. I’ll write what I remember from the notes, but you can help me fill the gaps.”

“Wonderful,” Yeosang clapped. “Let’s scatter now.”

—--------------------------

You had to admit, you felt a little sorry for reacting that way towards the human who, like he had said, really had no choice but to cooperate or face death.

Or perhaps, it was the Wooyoung being human and sneaky and making you feel guilty on purpose. You wouldn’t put past humans to do that- sure, you were the daughter of one and a friend of another, but you had seen your fair share of humans hiding behind the excuse of their ugly nature.

However, your guilt solidified when you found the man diligently scribbling in a new notebook with a jug of coffee by his side. You shook your head at the sight- what was with humans and their addiction to caffeine? But you supposed you couldn’t complain- whatever kept the human running and made your job easier.

You sensed Wooyoung’s body getting tense when he sensed your presence and you knocked on the door right at that time, pretending you hadn’t been standing there for a solid few minutes. He nodded and you entered, sitting down next to him.

“What are you writing?”

“Anything about navigation that I can recall from the top of my head,” he showed you the notes and you made an impressed face.

“Are humans on Earth that advanced in space navigation already?”

“As of recently, yes, but not many, and they usually keep it to themselves,” Wooyoung told you. “They’re afraid the government and the space councils will exploit their services.”

“Sounds like our government,” you scoffed.

“I guess we do have something in common then,” he grinned. “I was one of the few who kept my research to myself, but I also made the mistake of snooping around and finding things I shouldn’t have learned.”

“You said something about the group of humans who got lost in space,” you asked, shifting on the couch so you were facing him. “Do you remember their names?”

Wooyoung narrowed his eyes slightly. “Those humans settled on Star 1116. Jongho’s one of them, right? A descendant of them?”

You nodded and he wowed at that, taking a few moments to let that information sink in. “And what about you?”

“I’m one of them too,” you admitted. No harm in him knowing. “My mother is a Nexi, though. My father was the grandson of one of the humans who got lost- but why do you believe they didn’t get lost?”

“I heard the superiors talking about how their spy network failed to achieve results,” he sighed and you felt your heart sink. “The plan was to pretend to get lost and settle on one of the planets in the Temporal Nexus so they would keep reporting back to Earth with their findings.”

“Did they?” You asked, unconsciously holding your breath.

“I guess they felt welcomed enough that they stopped very soon, and my people never looked for them in fear that their secrets had been exposed. The Temporal Nexus Accords happened right after so the humans on Earth had to pretend they had no knowledge of those humans in space and thought they died.”

You fell silent, staring at the rings on Wooyoung’s fingers while you processed that.

Your great grandfather and great grandmother were spies. If anyone were to find that out now…

“They must have lived well,” Wooyoung said gently with a smile. “I won’t tell anyone, if you’re worried about that. I’d say Jongho, at least, deserves to know the truth though.”

“Thank you,” you said. “I’ll tell Jongho soon. They lived well, but after they had kids and our grandparents were old enough to have their own, the Nexi started discriminating. It got a little messier afterwards, but we’re still here. Just… kind of outcasted.”

“The Nexi are just like humans then. It’s such a human thing to discriminate among races, isn’t it?”

“Yeah, well, I don’t blame them,” you scoffed. “They will have a field day if they learn that they were right about humans all along.”

“But who’s gonna tell them?” Wooyoung pretended to zip his mouth. You smiled at that and he smiled back. “Did you come to read… me?”

“Unfortunately, yes,” you said and he resigned into the couch. “It won’t hurt.”

“That’s not what I’m worrying about, but okay,” he urged you to start and you raised your palms in the air, letting the neuron extensions protrude from your fingernails. Wooyoung watched in awe as the silver steel-like branches curled around each other in an intricate pattern.

“I’ll touch your forehead and close my eyes when I read,” you felt the need to tell him. “I will try not to look into your private memories but I can’t control what you send me, and unless you have a good mental fortitude I will only see what you show me.”

“Interesting,” he said, gulping when you scooted forward. You locked eyes with him, finding it almost endearing how his mismatched yet beautiful eyes widened when you gently placed your palms on his temples, letting the neurons extend and entangle with his hair to stick on his scalp.

“Ah… that tickles a bit,” Wooyoung muttered and you stifled a smile. “Do I close my eyes too?”

“You don’t have to,” you answered and shut yours. “Think of your notepad, now. I’ll have a general look before I start noting down.”

“Got it,” he said, shutting his eyes to focus.

You saw the notepad, as clear as day, and the last place he recalled using it was the control room in his spaceship. You relaxed when you realised he had indeed been telling the truth. You then saw the navigational reading and glimpses of incomprehensible messages- incomprehensible to him.

You were about to draw back but you saw a montage of his memories in the spaceship- you felt the loneliness that he had felt being alone in space for so long- a few months and no human or alien contact. You felt a bit of dread as he wondered if he made a wrong decision leaving the Earth in the manner that he did- stealing information and sneaking past them. You felt his will to live fluctuate when it started to feel like he was on a wild goose chase.

And then you felt just the briefest moment of acceptance when he noted down how long he had to live with the amount of food he had left on the spaceship. He was mostly relying on supplements but he wasn’t sure how long that would keep him healthy.

Before you could draw back, he pushed one memory in focus- the reason he cooked for all of you tonight. He was grateful to be alive and he needed the food more than you- more for the joy of cooking for himself and for others, for the act of simply eating with company, no matter who it was.

When you opened your eyes, you found that you were just as breathless as him. You didn’t know if he had intentionally pushed that memory into focus but it was enough.

“Well,” you retracted one hand away, keeping the other at its original position. “Might be a little uncomfortable but we should start writing now. You can help me fill in what I don’t understand, is that okay?”

“Uh, yeah. Sure,” he adjusted himself so the notebook was between you two on the couch now. You rested your elbow against the cushion so it wouldn’t hurt. “Shall we begin?”

It took you about an hour of filling in the gaps but thankfully, Wooyoung had done most of the work. The navigation section was finished soon and then you moved to the messages he received from the radio which you realised were in one of the Nexi codes. It required a series of messages to be arranged in a specific numerical pattern to decode it. Thankfully, Jongho had the right device for it so you intended to let him handle that department.

While writing the notes, you learned about his time at the space centre on Earth. Wooyoung seemed to be a talkative person and you listened to his story about how he and a few other astronauts and space scientists always disagreed with the government which ultimately controlled their operations. Apparently, the humans were always on the lookout for a number of things- a planet like Earth, for starters. The secret to stop ageing or extend the age cycle.

“Why would they want to extend their miserable lives?” You grimaced when you heard that.

“Sometimes, the little things are enough to want to live a little longer, I suppose,” Wooyoung mused, taking the pen from you and finishing a string of messages for you before handing it back. “There’s a race of you that has an unusual cycle, isn’t that so?”

“The Original Nexi,” you told him. “A few descendants of them still live though they are scattered and stay low. They don’t age like we do- after a certain age, I suppose around sixty, they start ageing backwards. They get to be young again but the fun ends there. They’re back to being babies and then one day, they turn into stardust and scatter in the atmosphere.”

“How poetic,” Wooyoung scratched his chin. “I suppose it has its pros and cons.”

“More cons,” you commented. “No one wants to take care of you by the time you become a baby for the second time.”

“Yeah, I bet that’s a sight,” he snickered, asking you to skip an irrelevant section and you started on the last page. “Look at that. We’re almost done.”

“Thank you for cooperating,” you meant it. “Your navigational skills… they’re quite impressive. I might just have a place for you on this ship. Depends on your behaviour though.”

“You are on your worst behaviour, I want it just like that~” Wooyoung started singing and you smiled- his voice really was pretty.

“You seem to like that song.”

Silence filled the room and you finished writing the last sentence, shutting the notebook and turning to him, finding him surprised.

“How did you know?”

Oh. You had made a mistake.

“What did you see?” Wooyoung asked again, and this time, involuntarily you saw more memories and you shut your eyes because of the intensity of those memories-

Wooyoung’s voice. He was singing the song in a small room with the lyrics on the screen, loud background music blasting in that space along with the sound of uproarious laughter, the bass of the music in synchronisation with his heartbeat. Bright, colourful kaleidoscopes of lights danced with their bodies, swaying around one another. You felt joy, in its pure and raw form, and then-

You were transported to another memory associated with that song- back in the spaceship as he sang it alone, his voice the only thing echoing off the walls with only the dim white light to accompany him. There was no joy anymore- just yearning for something that was not and might never be.

“Get out of my head, y/n,” Wooyoung gently wrapped his hand around your hand that was still placed on his temple. You opened your eyes in surprise at the contact, blinking a few times to let your vision adjust. His words finally registered inside you and you looked into his eyes.

He wasn’t angry. He simply looked tired and perhaps, he knew exactly what memories you had seen. You retracted the neurons from his scalp and now that it was just your fingers tangled in his hair, you unconsciously caressed the soft strands. He moved your hand away softly, placing it in your lap and looking at the joined hands for just a moment before he pulled away.

“I… I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to-”

“I know,” he nodded in understanding. “It’s okay.”

You nodded, realising you were still leaning into him. Taking a deep breath, you picked the notebook and got up.

“The notes will be with Jongho- he can decode the message,” you told him. “You can rest now.”

“Can I ask you something?” Wooyoung looked at you expectantly. You raised a brow and he took that as a sign to continue. “Do you only read the memories or are you able to feel the emotions or feelings associated with the memory too?”

Your silence was enough for him. He nodded in understanding, having gotten his answer.

As you made your way back to your room, you wished you could have told him that this was the first time you felt human emotions in such depth, in such an unfiltered and almost vulnerable way. Such innocent, humane feelings that almost made you forget that alien blood ran through your veins.

—---------------------------

While none of you had officially announced Wooyoung’s position as a navigator in the crew, he seemed to take on that role naturally. He made home in the control room with Jongho and they learned a lot from each other- Jongho about navigation and what it was like to be a human on Earth, and Wooyoung about the Temporal Nexus Galaxy and what it was like to be a human among the Nexi.

However, the more interesting part was how he managed to make Yeosang warm up to him. Yeosang wasn’t one to talk a lot and none of you in the crew were very physically affectionate, yet it seemed like Wooyoung had claimed the man as his target. He was always clinging to him- holding his hand, clutching his arms as he rubbed his cheek against him, casual pats and ruffling of hair (of which Jongho was also a target), hugs of all and every kind, and smooches. What was funnier was how Yeosang claimed to dislike all of that yet you would find him smiling to himself afterwards.

Whatever it was, Wooyoung had a magnetic personality and everyone’s eyes followed him, as did yours. You were often in your designated corner with your journals and equipment, making calls to the station to send daily reports, sending messages to anyone who would want to hear your theory about Star 1117 and possibly help you in any way while not reporting you to the authorities. It was hard to be in the same room as Wooyoung and not look at him and lean towards him, you were finding.

It wasn’t that he didn’t try to be as physically affectionate with you as the rest, or not include you in whatever stupid debate they decided to have for the sake of passing time- he was simply hesitant to touch you because he wasn’t sure if you could read him without your neuron extensions- or ‘murder mitten’, as he referred to them. Kitty claws was not the only term thrown around now.

Jongho’s device had successfully decoded the message but you were all waiting for the next signal as there were still missing parts. The radio was kept in the middle of the room so anyone could hear it if it woke up. Meanwhile, you shared your knowledge about Star 1117, the planet that could not be found.

In the Temporal Nexus Galaxy, there were exactly 1117 stars or planets in the beginning, as marked by the Original Nexi, the first aliens born out of the celestial matter when the galaxy came into being. While the 1117th planet was never located, it was historically and scientifically accurate information that your galaxy had 1117 cycles. Each complete orbit of the planets around the core marked by the presence of a single sun- almost like the sun in the solar system- caused one planet to disintegrate into celestial matter.

Wooyoung shared his knowledge of your galaxy and you found out that the humans were also aware that the only remaining planets in your galaxy were Star 1116, which was your home, and Star 1117. Star 1117 existed but it could not be located no matter how much the authorities and everyone else tried- there was too much clutter in the galaxy, they claimed.

All the planets that finished their cycle disintegrated into rocks and stars. Some of the rocks the aliens made habitable when there weren’t enough planets to accommodate them, while some aliens resorted to pods and spaceships as their home. The further you went to explore in the Temporal Nexus, the harder it got to navigate and find your way back which was why a lot of the explorers who tried to locate Star 1117 or its byproduct (in case they were wrong about Star 1117 still being whole) never returned.

You were just discussing the myths surrounding the star while you ate lunch- Wooyoung was also the designated chef now, and you had to admit that part of the reason you were okay with his presence in the spaceship was because of the food he made for you all and not just because you had delayed your decision until you could properly decode the message.

“I personally think Star 1117 was the first planet to die and our home is actually Star 1 instead of 1116 and they’re all wrong about the number of cycles that has passed. It’s a reverse order,” Yeosang said. “This, or there’s no Star 1117 in the first place.”

“Yeah, the Space Council could have easily modified the data,” Jongho nodded.

“But I read them,” you said, referring to the council members that you had secretly read. “They don’t think that’s true.”

“Maybe they’re made to think that that’s the truth,” Yeosang pointed out and you shrugged.

“Maybe Star 1117 isn’t a planet like your other planets in this galaxy,” Wooyoung added casually while munching on a potato stick. “Maybe it’s just an ugly old rock and you all think that it has to be a planet like Star 1116.”

“Well, I hope the authorities are looking into that possibility because the current cycle is ending soon. That means there won’t be a habitable planet for humans,” you said, looking at Jongho- while you were part alien, you functioned more like a human and couldn’t just travel in space without a certain amount of oxygen, just like Jongho. “And that also means that we will lose our home.”

Yeosang passed a tight-lipped smile at that- you all had family who lived in Star 1116 and refused to leave even though they were aware that this planet would soon disintegrate. They wanted to live there until the last possible moment before making a decision- die with the planet or move to a space pod. They were too old to do anything to save their home so you were using this opportunity to try to save it for them, along with your crew. While the government did not allow such missions for the common people, you were carrying it out secretly. You would be labelled criminals if you interfered with their mission.

“That’s a shame. I’ve heard Star 1116 is a very beautiful planet,” Wooyoung said and you all nodded- it really was the most beautiful planet to ever exist in that galaxy. “What do you plan to do about it?”

“Honestly, we have no idea, we’re just trying to find more information on when the cycle will end so we have a clue about how much time we have instead of waiting for the government to announce that we have numbered days,” Jongho said.

He was about to continue when you heard static and you almost thought it was one of your own radios until Wooyoung got up and brought his radio back to the table, the four of you huddling closer to watch the messages appear.

“Pass me a pen,” you asked Yeosang who obeyed and you gave it to Wooyoung who had already opened the notebook to write down the message. It was mumbo jumbo to the three of you but all the colour seemed to leave Jongho’s face when Wooyoung finished writing the message.

“What’s wrong?” Yeosang asked, patting his cheek to make him come back to his senses.

“Uh, let me confirm the message,” he mumbled weakly and you rushed to get his decoding device. He thanked you and started to insert the message in the device while already knowing the final version since he had played with this device enough to not need it anymore. When he typed the decoded message, he looked at all three of you before setting it in the middle of the table.

“‘I am 1118,’” Wooyoung read the message, frowning. “‘Do not save 1117.’”

Silence filled the room as the message hung in the air over your heads, your hands getting clammier with each passing second. You looked at Yeosang who looked just as lost and then at Wooyoung who was checking his readings again as if making sure that he hadn’t made a mistake.

“There is no Star 1118,” you said what everyone was thinking out loud. “Isn’t that right? Wooyoung?”

“I’ve never heard of Star 1118,” he admitted in all seriousness. “Star 1117 has always been the focus of attention, right?”

“Yes,” you nodded. “But someone from Star 1118 is sending you a message and telling you not to save Star 1117? Is that what it is?”

“There can’t be a Star 1118,” Yeosang frowned. “We can’t even locate 1117. I think if there were two missing planets, we would have found at least one, right?”

“Unless the government is hiding something?” Wooyoung suggested. “Wouldn’t put it past them.”

“Yeah, he might be right,” Jongho agreed with Wooyoung. “But I think we should start with locating where this message came from. That would certainly make things easier.”

“I suggest an infiltration of your space council to find information because it looks like you’ve had no luck so far,” Wooyoung raised his hand while looking at you, asking if everyone was in.

“That’s too risky-”

“But you can read the aliens, right?” Wooyoung interrupted and you folded your arms. “You can read objects. You can read their data- all we have to do is sneak past them,” he said, folding his sleeves with a smug face. “And I happen to be a pro at that, as you already know.”

A jab, but also an attempt to smoothen the rocky beginning of your relationship. You scoffed in answer, knowing all too well what he was talking about from the bits you had seen from his journal. “We’ll be labelled space criminals. They would do anything to find us and have us tried in court.”

“Well, from what I’ve heard, you’re all space criminals anyway,” he shrugged. “You’ll only be living up to that title. Besides, don’t you want to save your home?”

“You will help us save our home?”

“If I can be of help,” he nodded. “I came here to find Star 1117 too. We have the same goal, right? Find Star 1117 and save your galaxy. You get to save your home, and I get to rub this in my government's face and… clear the name of my friends who got caught in this mess without me.”

“Didn’t catch that sob story when I read you,” you told him and Yeosang snorted, resulting in all of you sharing a laugh, the room echoing with nervousness, anticipation and excitement-

And hope. You met Wooyoung’s eyes and he nodded earnestly, his smile making your heart feel warm, a feeling you had forgotten.

You smiled back this time.

—--------------------------

“Wooyoung, I swear to the all one thousand, one hundred and seventeen stars, if you don’t move your knee right now-”

“I’m trying,” he hissed, smacking your back and you let out a horrified gasp at his audacity. “I can’t move it- bear with it.”

“It’s digging into my calf and it hurts,” you sighed.

“Whose genius idea was it to sneak through the vents again?” Wooyoung asked and that shut you up.

It took you all just about two days to form an elaborate plan that would involve Yeosang getting access inside the Space Council building to present the monthly report physically with the excuse of meeting up with his cousin who worked there. When he called his cousin, the poor guy was quite surprised since they weren’t on friendly- or any terms, per se. He did complain about the strictness of the Space Council and how visitors weren’t usually allowed, but since Yeosang’s parents were ex-employees of the Council, it helped his case and his request to visit was almost immediately approved.

That left Jongho in charge of camouflaging the spaceship and he contacted a few of his friends who happened to be mechanics and had some spare technology that they could share with him. They were sceptical about why the human needed camouflage- it definitely raised suspicion, but Jongho had always been good at shutting people up with money so the mechanics were more than happy to help him out, thanking him for helping their declining business.

You and Wooyoung, of course, had to be the ones to sneak in. You were hesitant to take the human with you- his vitals weren’t the problem since he was wearing the watch just like you which ensured your vitals remained normal. The problem was the risk of taking an unregistered human inside the very space that made sure all humans were registered in their data.

Plus, Wooyoung’s claim that he could ‘watch out’ while you read their data wasn’t very helpful- you weren’t sure if he would be able to get you out of a tight spot if you got caught. He claimed to be good with guns so you reluctantly loaded him with as many weapons as possible and when you were almost sure he wouldn’t be a liability, if not a help either, you agreed to let him accompany you.

He was good at sneaking in. He had studied Jongho’s inventory of machines and tools and taken anything he thought was useful. While Yeosang entered from the main door, the two of you turned on the camouflage on Jongho’s illegally obtained wristwatch and took access inside the building through the backdoor while another alien entered. Before you could be scanned, Wooyoung pointed at the vents and you squeezed yourself into the tight space, crawling on all fours with Jongho’s voice guiding your directions.

“Can you both fight later?” Jongho huffed. “Take a left and then jump down- you’ll land in a storage room. I can’t guarantee that it will be empty, so make sure your camouflage is working and you’re silent when you land.”

“Got it,” the two of you muttered in unison and you angrily tucked your hair back before leading the way again, having Wooyoung follow behind you. You paused before it was time to jump down, extending your neurons to read the room and after finding no signs of life for now, you landed softly with a thud, signalling Wooyoung to come down as well.

“That’s convenient,” Wooyoung pointed at your fingernails. “Can they act as a weapon?”

“Haven’t tried that yet but I suppose I’ll be forced to, soon,” you pointedly looked at him and he stuck his tongue out before Jongho asked you to find your way to the storage room that was across the hall. Wooyoung opened the door just a fraction and you pushed him with your elbow to take a peek.

“No one outside?”

“Doesn’t look like it,” you whispered.

“Well, that’s what your kitty claws are for. Go ahead,” he said and you sat down on the floor, extending the neurons once again and finding a few men who seemed to be on duty, stationed in front of the rooms that were on either side of this room. You got up and moved away to talk to Jongho.

“Is there no other way?”

“None,” Jongho sighed. “Should I ask Yeosang to do something about it?”

“No, I have a sacrificial lamb right here,” you smirked dangerously at Wooyoung, who pointed at himself with wide eyes and furiously shook his head.

Moments later, he was carrying a bunch of folders and going out of the storage room as if he belonged there. You watched from the crack in the door as he pretended to look at the room number and went just a few steps ahead before dropping everything to the floor.

“Curse the stars,” he huffed angrily. “I’m gonna be late and my boss will kill me.”

One of the guards came into your vision, looking at Wooyoung with narrowed eyes. “Who’s your boss again?”

“Just the angriest one here- no need for names, am I right?” He shook his head and the guard seemed to buy that for the moment. “Asked to get some files,” Wooyoung started gathering them and the guard bent down to help. Wooyoung looked back, meeting eyes with you for just a second before looking at the second guard. “Would you help? I need to grab another bundle from the storage.”

The second guard hesitantly joined the first, grunting as he bent down. Your heart seemed to be beating between your ears as Wooyoung came back inside the room.

“What do you say I knock them out?”

“Just keep yapping- I’ll make it,” you told him and he signed okay, grabbing another box of files and going back outside. You heard the three talk among themselves and you mustered all the courage before making a dash across the hall, turning the knob-

To find it locked. It would need an identification card to open it, and you didn’t have enough time for Jongho to do his thing. Panicking, you looked at Wooyoung who visibly swallowed and you made a neck-slicing motion.

“Now who’s that?” The second guard spotted you and that was all Wooyoung needed to take out his gun from the jacket and smack the guard’s head with the butt of the gun. The other guard punched him in the stomach with such force that Wooyoung doubled up as he let out a weak exhale-

And before you knew it, the neurons were extending from your fingernails and slashing at the guards while forming a protective barrier around Wooyoung at the same time. Wooyoung yelled an ‘I’m okay!’ which finally made you stop- not after having inflicted enough cuts on the guards to make them clutch at themselves in pain.

Wooyoung looked at you, half-impressed and half-horrified. You decided to make sense of it later and said, “We should probably… shut them in the storage.”

“Yeah… why don’t you use your murder mittens for that too?”

You scowled at him but did exactly that and Wooyoung smacked them hard enough to knock them unconscious though you were pretty sure it was petty revenge. He dusted his hands and looked proudly at you afterwards, catching you stifling a grin. He raised a brow and you finally let out a laugh at the absurdity of the situation.

“If you have both had your fun,” Jongho’s voice interrupted though he sounded amused- while he couldn’t see what was happening, the audio was enough. “Yeosang’s almost done and you’re still doing god knows what.”

“Sorry, Wooyoung’s having too much fun,” you put the blame on the human and moved along, ignoring the earfull that Jongho started to give Wooyoung. You used the identification card of one of the guards to open the door, finding yourself in the recent archives section of the control room- you didn’t need to tap into the alien parts to hear the chatter from the main room that leaked into this one.

“I’ll keep watch, you can start,” Wooyoung said and you nodded, wasting no time and shutting your eyes, letting the neurons branch out and touch everything in your surroundings- the shelf where hundreds of files were stacked, the numerous hard disks along with paper notes, the walls that contained memories of the people who had touched it recently, the floor where the employees must have walked a million times-

And where Wooyoung stood, and you almost thought your eyes were open when you saw him watching you in awe while staying alert. Despite not wanting to read him without his consent anymore, you saw the brief flash of what was playing in his head right now-

The sight of you slashing at the guards to protect him.

You pushed that scene and the feelings associated with it aside and let the neurons store every bit of information that they could until you started losing your breath and feeling faint- a sign that you couldn’t take it anymore. You thought you heard Wooyoung call your name before you retracted the neurons and rested your back against the wall, catching your breath.

“Too much?” He asked and you nodded, wiping your forehead.

“We’re done, Jongho,” you said and he hummed in response, letting Yeosang know so he could leave as well.

“Good job everyone,” Jongho said as you all started to make your way back out. “I’ll serve you all drinks tonight. And maybe sing for you.”

—--------------------------

If you thought Jongho was a good singer, he certainly had competition now.

Sure, Jongho could move stars with his voice. You always joked that perhaps Jongho was an alien and his voice was his alien characteristic because there was no way a human could sound so powerful and mesmerising.

But perhaps, it was a human thing to sound so captivating, to sing like you intended to break the heart of the listeners and heal it again, to have your voice flow like the honey aliens only heard stories of- something they could describe and perhaps create association with yet only dream of having. Perhaps, it was a human thing to possess a voice that could make you feel like you were floating among the stars as one.

Or maybe… it was just Wooyoung.

And just you, feeling all of that and more.

You tried reasoning with yourself- you had been hearing Jongho sing since he could speak so it probably didn’t sound so special to you anymore because you were used to it. If you could experience his singing for the first time again, you were sure you would be as blown away as the other person- as Wooyoung was.

But when Wooyoung sang in a voice so soft and mellow, you could feel your heart melt and you felt the sudden urge to sit out on the deck of the spaceship, in the hollow silence of the space and watch the stars.

“No way he’s the same person who sounds like an animal when he talks, right?”

You exhaled in relief when Yeosang said that but you were sure his drunken heart wasn’t as moved as yours was.

And it didn’t help when Wooyoung locked eyes with you as he sang about the human emotions of longing, sadness, happiness and love. Of sorrow and bitterness, of peace and hope.

You had been fine for the most part of the night- after returning to the spaceship, the boys started to prepare a meal while you passed out on the couch, surprising Wooyoung who was told that you were just taking a power nap to recover your energy. They woke you up when the table was set and while you ate, you told them that you were still processing the information you had absorbed and nothing you could process so far was relevant. While Yeosang told you all about his ‘adventures’ and how wonderful an actor he is, the room filled with overlapping chatter and laughter with the tinkling sound of your glasses as you drank.

And now that the humans had been singing for a while, you silently excused yourself with a smile on your face that had been plastered on your face since you woke up. You exited the spaceship and laid down on the deck to watch the endless expanse of the universe. With your hands resting on top of your beating heart, you let your chest rise and fall in synchrony with the glimmering of the stars around you.

You could hear your own breaths but Wooyoung’s voice still seemed to be ringing in your head and you found yourself smiling again. You recalled when your grandfather had told you stories of his father and his time on Earth- how humans used to sing at gatherings around fire while they ate candies or drank warm beverages. You had never experienced that but you always thought they might have looked strange doing that, until tonight when Jongho and Wooyoung started singing and Yeosang started clapping along- perhaps, this was what it was like to be truly human. To enjoy the little moments in life and make the most of them.

“Now that’s one way to stargaze.”

You almost jumped, letting out a startled sigh and Wooyoung grinned at that. “Can I join you?”

“Uh, sure,” you patted the space next to you and he settled down, watching you for a moment before he assumed a similar lying position next to you.

“It’s beautiful,” Wooyoung sighed dreamily. “The stars.”

“Sometimes I wonder which of these stars were planets where we lived,” you said. “I think a lot of people here must look and wonder which one of them is their home.”

“It’s a shame how the cycles here work, but isn’t it somewhat relieving to know that the place that was once your home is now all around you? In the form of celestial matter.”

You turned your face sideways to look at him. “Is it though? To know that you have no home anymore?”

“But home is where the heart is,” he smiled, looking at you.

“Do humans still use that phrase on Earth?”

“We’ve always been using it,” he said. “Where did you hear it?”

“From my great grandfather.”

“He’s still alive?”

“No,” you chuckled. “I have his journals. He missed planet Earth a lot but he said that home is where the heart is and his heart was here with his family. It never made sense to me, though.”

Wooyoung shifted his body to lay down sideways so he could look at you as you talked. “And why is that?”

“I don’t know,” you shrugged. “Home is a place, not an emotion or a feeling. My home is under the shade of the tree near my house where I grew up.”

“That’s where your heart is,” he told you.

“No, my heart is here,” you patted your chest. “It’s pumping blood.”

“My dear y/n,” he pinched your nose and if you had been sober, you would have smacked him. “Heart is an organ, yes, but it’s also a feeling. You leave a piece of your heart everywhere- back home, with your friends, with the people you lose. It is what makes you a whole person.”

“Still does not make sense to me,” you pouted.

“It will, one day,” he assured you, a knowing look on his face.

“What was your home like?” You asked after a few moments passed.

Wooyoung took a deep breath, folding his arms, his hair beginning to fall sideways slowly. You turned to face him too, unable to resist the urge to tuck them back. He didn’t comment on it, knowing it would remind you of the distance you were always consciously creating. “My home was near the sea- you have it here too, don’t you?”

“Something like that,” you told him, recalling the human sea you had seen flashes of from your great grandfather’s journal.

“My home was the place where I spent my whole life, where my parents were,” he said and you noted how there was something sad about the way he smiled. “My home is with the friends I left behind, and even though my workplace started resembling a prison… that place is also my home.”

“Was it hard to leave home, knowing you might never go back?”

“Well, I didn’t think too much about it, I trust my navigational skills,” he said and you rolled your eyes. “But yeah. It started feeling like a mistake until I met you guys.”

You nodded- you knew all too well what he was talking about, having felt his loneliness firsthand. “Don’t you want to see your home again?”

“Maybe I’ll go back, but… I think I have a home here with you guys too,” he said cautiously and your brows furrowed as you tried to unravel its meanings. “Don’t you feel like you have a home here too? With the boys?”

You fell silent, pondering over that. “Will you show me your home, Wooyoung?”

“How- oh, with your kitty claws?”

“I call them neurons, but yes,” you locked eyes with him. “I’ve always wanted to see what Earth looked like from my great grandfather’s mind. His journal doesn’t really give much.”

“What do you want to see?”

“Everything special about planet Earth, and… cats.”

“Cats?” Wooyoung frowned. “I thought you had them here? Yeosang called your neurons kitty claws?”

“It’s just a phrase we adopted from the description of cats and feline creatures we have in his journals,” you told him and he clapped, saying a long ‘ah’ in realisation.

“What about dogs?”

“We have something like that here, but I’d like to see that too,” you smiled.

“Okay, there’s so much to see- do you want to see now?” Wooyoung asked and you shook your head.

“I’m still processing the information I got from the Space Council. Maybe some other day.”

“Sure, whenever,” Wooyoung said and you watched him for a few moments, the silence surprisingly comfortable.

“Did I scare you earlier?” You finally asked the question that had been weighing on your mind since you came back. “When I attacked the guards?”

Wooyoung stifled a smile. “I think I was more surprised that you went all murder-mode to protect me rather than being scared,” he confessed, “but I won’t lie. It was a little scary.”

You bit your lips, feeling something like guilt wrapping around your heart. Wooyoung inched his hand closer, looking at you for permission before holding your hand and caressing it.

“You don’t scare me,” he admitted, “I don’t care if you are capable of slitting throats with your nails or neurons or whatever they are. I saw how frightened you looked when the guards attacked me. I can’t get that out of my head.”

Now that was new. “Why can’t you get it out of your head?”

“You and your questions,” Wooyoung laughed, bringing your hand closer to inspect. “Hey, your hands look pretty normal. Like human hands. Where do the neurons even come from?”

You showed him by protracting them just a fraction and he wowed, taking both your hands and examining the skin around your nails when they retracted. “Pretty seamless, huh? Can you produce them out of your feet too?”

“Yeah, Yeosang had a wonderful time having me try that,” you laughed at the memory. “I can, but I don’t for obvious reasons.”

“You would look like a frog if you did,” Wooyoung told you.

“What’s a frog?”

“I’ll show you when it’s time, but… I’m scared you won’t like it.”

You narrowed your eyes at him and when he started describing a frog, he finally earned the long due smack, your laughter ringing in the space while Jongho and Yeosang watched from the window.

“Didn’t realise she could laugh like that,” Jongho wiped a fake tear from his eye.

“She laughs with us too,” Yeosang said.

“Oh, you wouldn’t understand,” Jongho waved a hand in dismissal. “Her laugh sounds different.”

“Really?” Yeosang looked at Jongho. “Sounds the same to me.”

“It’s a human thing,” Jongho smiled and Yeosang shook his head at that, knowing all too well what he was talking about.

—---------------------------

“We have a big fucking problem, guys.”

All three heads turned dramatically in succession and you looked away, suddenly feeling overwhelmed.

“Did you finish processing already?” Jongho asked and you nodded, slumping down on the couch next to Yeosang who had been pretending to take a nap. The younger two, who had been playing some board game that Wooyoung had been teaching the boys, rolled their chairs in front of you and you nervously fiddled with the sleeves of your black shirt.

“Yeah, I sped things up and… do you want the good news or the bad news first?”

The boys exchanged glances and everyone agreed on the good news first. You took a deep breath, “The Space Council has identified all of us and are sending out ‘wanted’ posters. They know we stole information and they’ve put a bounty on us.”

“That’s the good news?” Yeosang looked just about as horrified as the rest of them. You let out a short laugh.

“Congrats on officially being labelled space criminals now, I guess?” You offered and Jongho groaned loudly, muttering something about how his parents were going to kill him, bounty or not. “Now, the bad news?”

“Go ahead,” Jongho muttered, folding his arms in bitter resignation.

“Well, I don’t know how bad it is but they have secrets that they’ve hidden so well that even I couldn’t read them,” you started and Yeosang whistled at that. “I kept hitting a dead end whenever I came across something related to Star 1117, and there’s absolutely no way of locating the planet- not that they know of, or if they do know, they’re hiding it a bit too well.”

“So was our attempt futile after all?” Wooyoung asked.

“Not really- it means that they do know a lot about Star 1117- at least the higher-ups. They’re just hiding it from everyone else.”

“Why are they keeping it to themselves? Do they want to keep Star 1117 all for themselves when the time comes?” Jongho questioned. “Do they not want the rest of us finding out?”

“Or maybe they don’t really know a lot and are just as clueless as us,” Yeosang offered. “Did you find something about how to locate it?”

“I think radio waves are our best option, so Wooyoung’s radio will have to do. I have something that can help with that, so let’s just track whoever is sending us that message and get answers from them?” You suggested.

“Sounds like a plan. We’re already working on using the radio as a navigational device so let us know what needs to be done next,” Yeosang agreed.

“Sure. There’s also something strange I came across,” you added, “but I don’t know if it’s of any value.”

“Let’s hear it anyway,” Jongho leaned forward in anticipation.

“You know the stories about the first aliens in this galaxy? The Original Nexi who are supposedly the first aliens in this galaxy?”

“Yeah, that bloodline still exists, right?” Jongho asked, having recalled hearing rumours about them. “The Original Nexi who are born, grow up until a certain age and then start ageing backwards until they die?”

“The humans would love to hear their secrets by the way,” Wooyoung looked both ashamed and proud of his people at that moment.

“Yeah, so,” you continued. “I think the first aliens are from Star 1117- that’s what I read in one of the files. That must mean the planet exists. If we can find one of the Original Nexi descendants who are alive today, we might be able to get some information about Star 1117. Maybe some of them even live there and we just haven’t been able to find them. Maybe that is why they’re trying so hard to hide the planet.”

“Woah,” Jongho exhaled deeply. “Now that’s news.”

“Yeah,” you sighed, a sombre silence taking over while all of you collected your thoughts. You decided to break the silence and give them a heads-up. “Since we’ll be wanted criminals now, let’s cut all contact with the station and destroy any tracking devices on this spaceship. Jongho, I trust you can take care of that?”

Jongho nodded and you continued. “Yeosang, please make sure our families are safe when they go to investigate- make sure they know that it might get messy so they can defend themselves if need be, okay?”

“I’ll let our friends know too- especially people we’ve been in contact with recently,” he said in a grim voice and you agreed, the realisation that you would all be in danger soon washing over you with a crash and you involuntarily shivered. Yeosang patted your back. You glanced at Wooyoung who had an unreadable expression on his face.

“We’ll do everything we can,” Wooyoung assured you and you nodded in answer. “Let’s speed up our radio navigation first.”

You agreed and got up, moving towards the control panel with Jongho, and Wooyoung looked at Yeosang, wiggling his brows.

“I guess my role is still chef?”

Yeosang chuckled. “You can keep doing whatever you’ve been doing. Kind of like an anchor, don’t you think?”

Wooyoung was pretty pleased to hear that, immediately cheering up at Yeosang’s acknowledgement of his role as an ‘anchor’ when he had previously been referred to things like ‘maid’, ‘comic relief’ and worse. He disappeared into the kitchen knowing he didn’t have a lot of time before he would be called to help with the navigation.

And it was about an hour later that the smell of meat prompted everyone to drop what they were doing and join Wooyoung at the table. The meal was mostly silent, all of you feeling spent now that there was a threat hanging over your heads. Wooyoung could feel the palpable stress in the air but let you all have a moment to yourselves. After clearing the table, he was called to help with the navigation and he worked in harmony with Jongho and you, the hours passing by in a blink and sleep forgotten until-

“A signal!” Wooyoung shouted, making you and Yeosang get up with surprised grunts from your half-asleep state while Jongho high-fived him.

“And, it’s gone- but it was there,” Jongho quickly input the readings into the radar and got a location. “Just a few tem-nex units away, should take us a few days.”

“Brilliant,” you felt hopeful all of a sudden, laughing in relief as you looked at Wooyoung in gratitude. He smiled in return, hand on his chest as he nodded. Yeosang clapped dramatically when Jongho started to yawn, making the two giggle and you got up, looking at the time.

“I think we should set our route and get some sleep, all of us. It was a long day,” you said and everyone agreed, Jongho immediately taking his place on the couch, pushing Yeosang away with little kicks.

“Go to your own room and get some sleep,” he said. “I’ll sleep here in case something fishy happens.”

“Alright, geez,” Yeosang rubbed his thighs, the youngest smiling as he swaddled the blanket. Yeosang saluted you and Wooyoung mockingly before going to his room.

“Want a drink, Captain?” Wooyoung offered and you gave him the side-eye.

“Shouldn’t you go to sleep?”

“The adrenaline will take some time to wear off,” he explained and you shrugged. “I’d really like to take the drinks outside this time, and I could do with some company, unless you’re too tired?”

You decided to join- you could do with a drink and some company too, you reckoned. It had been a stressful few hours and your nap hadn’t helped at all- you kept thinking about whether you had been too reckless and doomed your friends and family by infiltrating the council and stealing top secret information. Sure, it could be justified- the government was all but dooming the people with the way they were handling things. If this really was the 1116th cycle, they had done little to nothing to prevent an apocalypse and the people were still in the dark about the ensuing damage which could be anywhere from just Star 1116’s collapse to the whole Temporal Nexus galaxy swallowing itself.

And you had never felt so worthless. You were merely a speck of dust in this vast galaxy and everything that you were doing to save it looked like it was all in vain.

“Cheer up, eh?” Wooyoung said as he clinked his bottle with yours. “It will be okay. We’ll be fine.”

You had to admit, you were rather impressed by his ability to read the room or the emotions of someone. He did it better than you could with your neurons and that was saying something.

“I just feel like I’m going in circles. It’s not the first time we’ve received a signal that indicated that we might be close to Star 1117, but it’s the first time I’ve felt hope. I don’t know what I will do if it turns out to be nothing.”

Wooyoung hummed in thought. “If it turns out to be nothing, you’ll try again, just like you have for so long now. You won’t give up.”

“I know I won’t give up,” you nodded. “I want to do anything to make sure Star 1116 stays like it is, even if… even if I can’t ever go live there again.”

And perhaps, it was that possibility that had been weighing you down all along- what if you were chasing after something you shouldn’t and risking your chance of ever going back home? What if your last memory of Star 1116 would be when you got drafted as space patrol?

You recalled that day- just another morning with you munching on some snacks while you worked at the office with Yeosang and Jongho. The three of you had always been a unit even in the Space Centre in Star 1116. Your unit was the one in charge of detecting foreign matter around your planet but you were always abusing your power- since you had access to a lot of devices and archives, you were conducting your own research about Star 1117 which almost everyone was aware of. It wasn’t something you did secretly anyway.

But even though you saw it coming, the notice that your unit was transferred to Space Patrol still made your heart sink. You went to the superiors to have them change it- Jongho and Yeosang shouldn’t be dragged into something that you insisted on doing, but the two were already there trying to do the same for you. The three of you laughed like fools afterwards as you processed what this meant-

That you were on to something and the Space Centre did not want you snooping around anymore. That was how you ended up harbouring spite for the Space Council and continuing your mission in secret. It had been a long and lonely journey for the three of you but at least you had each other. And with Wooyoung’s addition to the crew…

Things had definitely changed for the better.

“I can understand,” Wooyoung smiled wistfully. “I didn’t exactly leave Earth on good terms either. It was quite a similar situation as yours- I would have been imprisoned for trying to expose state secrets if I had stayed any longer, so I just decided to sneak away and collect evidence about their dealings with Star 1116 and their plans for Star 1117. I feel sorry for the people I left behind- they must be dealing with my mess.”

You recalled hearing about his friends earlier- he seemed to worry about them a lot. “Do you want to go back… once you collect your evidence?”

Wooyoung shook his head. “Do you think I’ve been doing my job ever since I met you?”

“Well, I didn’t stop you from doing what you needed to do,” you muttered and he laughed.

“Look… there’s no way I’m going to go back to Earth and tell them that you exist. You’re the evidence I was trying to find, and… I’d rather keep you all to myself.”

“Jung Wooyoung,” you warned but he only took a few chugs of his beer in response. You crossed your legs, shifting to face him.

“I understand how much home means to a person, and I wouldn’t want to be someone who prevents you from going home and clearing the name of your friends. Please, I already feel guilty as it is…”

“Look, I came here to find out if the humans that got lost here were still communicating with my people back on Earth, right?” Wooyoung began. “Turns out those humans had morals after all, from what you told me. They never betrayed the aliens here and lived in harmony with the rest of the aliens here. They made a home here. Isn’t that beautiful?”

“And what about Star 1117?” You asked and Wooyoung’s lips tightened in a smile. “What have you been trying to find about Star 1117?”

“Well, you know why they sent your great grandfather and his group to the Temporal Nexus. Humans have always been in search of anything they can get their hands on; they're greedy like that. Be it slowing the ageing process or finding another planet that they can make their home. After all, Earth will collapse one day. In the solar system, they haven’t had much luck so they’ve always been secretly exploring other galaxies.”

“Is that such a bad thing?” You asked. “We’re the same. Our planet collapses and we go live on another.”

“But you take everyone with you, don’t you?” Wooyoung asked grimly and you frowned in confusion. “You do not leave your people to die, do you?”

You shook your head in denial and when he sighed, you had your answer.

“Are humans that selfish?”

Wooyoung stretched his arms, a melancholic smile plastered on his face. “Sometimes. Not all of them, I like to believe. It’s just the power that makes them lose their morals.”

“I guess it’s the same here then,” you shrugged. “The Space Council does not want us finding any information on Star 1117.”

“I have a feeling that they have a good reason for that. Let’s hope I’m right,” he settled the empty bottle on the deck. Yours was still half full and in your hands. You watched Wooyoung trace shapes on the surface of the deck, his dark hair falling down on his forehead.

“Will you show me your home?”

Wooyoung looked up at you in surprise. “Now?”

“I feel like this is the moment that I should read you,” you answered in all honesty and he looked a little confused but agreed anyway. You scooted closer and raised your hands in front of him. He awkwardly raised his own, intertwining them with yours before he realised-

“Oh, the forehead, right?” He was about to pull his hands away when you let the neurons extend and wrap around his hands, effectively binding them to yours and Wooyoung raised a brow in response, speechless for once. You stifled a smile and let the neurons wrap along the bulge of veins in his arms, the silver branches sneaking under his sleeves and taking shape along his collarbones before appearing on his neck.

When you felt Wooyoung stiffen just a fraction, you stopped, the neurons curling around his neck. You couldn’t help but notice how beautiful he looked with the silver branches on him, and it awoke a spark deep inside you. You almost felt breathless, as did he, before you asked him the one question that would make or break this moment.

“Did I scare you?”

Wooyoung looked at you for a few moments too long, watching your pupils contract and dilate in anticipation, silver like the extension of you around him. And he asked himself-

Was he scared of you? Did the idea of being so exposed to you make him want to cower away? Did he not like the way you had him trapped under you? Did he not appreciate that you were still asking for permission?

Weren’t you only human too? Figuring out these unfamiliar feelings just like he was?

Wooyoung decided to take a leap of faith in you and tightened his hold around your hands in answer- you had read him for a long time when he was first brought in your spaceship but that was a wholly different experience from this moment. This was so much more intimate with darkness enveloping the space, the stars twinkling like an endless glimmer around you, and the shift in your relationship now that you had warmed up to each other.

A different way than he had warmed up to the boys, he noticed.

“I’m not scared,” he caressed your hands in answer. “I told you before- you don’t scare me, y/n.”

You smiled in response and let the curled branches extend along his temples, wrapping around his head like a crown. You wished he could see himself in that moment, but you shut your eyes as he pushed his memories to you.

Earth.

So different from the Earth that you had seen in your great grandfather’s memories. There was more architecture- tall greyscale buildings that threatened to touch the sky. Where was the green grass? Why did the sky no longer seem as blue as it had in the Earth that you had seen?

Suddenly, you saw exactly that- a sky of fluffy clouds with rays of sun emerging through it and painting the lush fields of grass yellow. You saw the flowers that you always loved- the same roses and daisies from your memories. There was the sound of water in the distance- waves. It had to be waves. There was the sound of a woman calling Wooyoung’s name and you looked into the distance at the small cottage. Someone zoomed past you and you twirled around again, taking a scared step back as you saw a little ball of black fur-

A cat.

A startled laugh left your lips as the cat rubbed its soft body on your bare legs. You picked it up and kissed the top of its head before running towards the smell of food- Wooyoung’s food- no, his mother’s food. The person he learned to cook from, the taste that he carried in his hands.

The scene shifted yet again and this time, your legs were submerged in water and you looked around in confusion- why was the water falling from the sky? You craned your neck upwards to find that it was not the sky where the water was coming from but the top of a mountain, the stream crashing against deep brown rocks just like the one you sat on, a green carpet around it- moss, it was called. You had a stick in your hand and before you could figure out what to do with it, you felt two taps on your shoulders. You turned around to see a child who had a stick just like yours with a tiny creature lodged in it, threatening to fall on the ground. Scared, you cupped your hands and let the creature take refuge in your palm. You watched it carefully, the dark green bulge of its throat rising and falling in quick successions, and its tiny, webbed feet-

A frog.

You were laughing as the frog jumped out of your palm and landed on the rock near you, joining its own little gang of friends. You washed your hands with the cool water and splashed it on the children around you.

This was what it was like to be a kid on Earth.

You opened your eyes and saw Wooyoung smiling widely. He grinned before he asked, “Did you see it?”

“I did,” you pouted. “And I do not look like a frog, Wooyoung. Shame on you.”

Wooyoung laughed loudly, squeezing your hands subconsciously. “What else did you see?”

“Well, I saw a cat, thank you very much for that,” you smiled. “I could smell food- your mother cooked for you, right? It smells just like your food.”

“Really?” He seemed pleased to hear that.

“Exactly like that,” you confirmed. “And… I saw tall buildings. What was that?”

“That was the city where I lived before I came here, where I moved to after I grew up.”

“It looked… void of life,” you told him and he agreed. “Earth has changed.”

“We call it ‘modernised’,” he shrugged. “But yeah. Earth has changed, and so have its people.”

“Do you want to see my home someday?” You asked, beginning to retract your neurons and he shivered slightly. “It’s not much, but it’s definitely something like the Earth that my great grandfather left behind. And I wish I could show you like you showed me, but… you can see it in person.”

“You’d take me to Star 1116?” He asked in surprise.

“Yeah, well, don’t think I’m doing it for you,” You started and he scoffed. “It looks like we’ll have to go anyway- at least to warn the people if things don’t work out.”

“Well,” Wooyoung kept his hands intertwined with yours even after your neurons were fully retracted. “I’m not one to give false hope but let’s not give up and stay optimistic about this, okay?”

You nodded and looked at his hands that fit so well with yours, and you found yourself thinking how truly incredible it was to be this fascinated by such a simple thing as your hands in someone else’s. And that led you to think about how much you had changed since you met the human from Earth.

Wooyoung seemed to have noticed that you were deep in thought and he leaned down a bit to enter your vision, gently asking, “What are you thinking?”

You looked at his deep brown eyes that glinted with mischief and curiosity as he held your gaze. You let your eyes travel along the slope of his nose, pausing at his parted lips that were starting to curve into a smirk.

“I’m thinking you’re too close,” you muttered, pushing him back but he only pulled you closer which induced a startled gasp from you.

You sucked in your breath just as quickly when he caressed your knuckles with his thumb before planting a kiss on both your hands. He then proceeded to look at you, his gaze almost darkening.

“Too close?” He asked, almost as a challenge. You were too surprised to answer, an unfamiliar but pleasant feeling pooling in your stomach.

“Let go of my hands before I chop your hands into pieces,” you warned and he immediately let go, raising his hands in surrender and he would have thought that you were serious were it not for the laugh that you let out afterwards.

“And you said I don’t scare you?” You scoffed. “Try harder, Wooyoung.”

“Hey,” he scoffed back in utter disbelief. “You played dirty. I cherish my hands, okay? If you shred my hands into pieces I can’t do this-”

He grabbed your wrist and pulled you close- a bit too close, so that your faces were mere centimetres apart. Your eyes widened in surprise and when his initial surprise wore off, he tilted his head a bit, his eyes scanning your face and looking for any signs of apprehension. Upon finding none, he proceeded to cup your face with his other hand.

“If you hurt my hands, I can’t hold you like this, can I?” He whispered.

“Wooyoung-” you began but he shook his head, planting a chaste kiss on your forehead and grinning cheekily afterwards, making you smile shyly.

“I’ve wanted to do that for a long time,” he said, letting go and scooting away this time. “Don’t go all kitty claws on me please-”

This time, you decided to show him just what Yeosang had meant when he called your hands kitty claws. If it was the planet Earth, or even Star 1116, his shrieks and laughter would have woken creatures from their deep slumber.

But since it was just your spaceship, it only made Jongho and Yeosang grunt in their sleep and his voice was lost to the stars.

—------------------------

“This is insanity,” you managed to say, your breaths quickening with every second as you monitored the radar, watching not one, not two, but three patrol spaceships enter the range of your spaceship, quickly covering the distance behind you.

“We’re running away, right?” Jongho asked but didn’t wait for the answer, pressing a button and activating the speed boost, though that did nothing to calm you. You climbed up to the dome to take a look at your surroundings, zooming through the glasses that all of you had on since you spotted a spaceship following you.

A number of things had happened in the last few days which led you to this point, so close to finding out the source of the signal Wooyoung had been receiving on his radio. Your names were circulated among all the residents of the Temporal Nexus with a significant bounty on your head, and even Wooyoung’s face was plastered on the ‘wanted’ posters. That prompted you all to cut contact with everyone including your family and acquaintances, though Yeosang had sent a warning to the families and assured them that you would be okay. However, the anxiety that came with the possibility that you all might not ever be able to go back home gnawed at all of you.

For now, there were more important matters. Jongho worked on camouflaging the spaceship as best as possible while the rest of you worked on tracing the signal to the most accurate location, finding yourself in unfamiliar territories. The Temporal Nexus was a vast galaxy and your spaceship was well-equipped so it allowed you to cover a great amount of distance in a short amount of time but there were some spaces in the galaxy that were considered ‘red zones’ or unsafe, to put it simply. These spaces were usually considered to be a hotspot for mysterious, unexplainable spatial activity and it was thought to be the points where a planet may have completed its orbit in time, resulting in a ‘tear’ in space. To the naked eye, it would seem like a mass of vividly coloured gases with little electrical sparks emerging from it. All the residents of the Temporal Nexus knew to avoid it-

But the residents of Temporal Nexus weren’t nosy like you were. And how could you ignore it when the signal was coming right from that point? It was only a matter of time before the Space Patrol around the red zones would detect your spaceship and be on your tail-

And here you were. Just a few hundred tem-nex units away from the red zone, from the source of your signal, the Space Patrol quickly catching up, the boys preparing to attack while you monitored the situation- it was just an excuse to take a breather and think where did it all start going so wrong. If you got arrested now, it would be the end.

“Captain?” Jongho called. “We’re closing up on the red zone. What do we do?”

“We can’t steer around it, can we?” You asked grimly, climbing down and going to look at the map that highlighted all the red zones in the galaxy- there were about eight red zones in your proximity alone and the only clear path was your way back which was now crowded with space patrols.

“Not really- I don’t think we can lose them,” Jongho took a deep breath.

“I say we keep going,” Wooyoung said. He had been monitoring the radio which started malfunctioning as soon as you entered the range of the red zone. “We’re getting signals from there- all the messages we got are from that mass,” he pointed at the blue cloud of gas not far from you now.

“It’s dangerous,” Yeosang shook his head. “There’s no telling what could happen once we enter that mass.”

“Only one way to find out,” Wooyoung’s lip curved in a smirk. “I have a feeling there’s a reason the space patrol is hell bent on catching us before we reach the red zone, and it’s not our safety.”

“Makes sense,” Jongho agreed. “There have been instances of people trying to get to one of the red zones but never have the space patrol been so active in trying to stop them. Usually one ship is enough.”

“We are wanted criminals,” you reminded them. “They have a reason.”

“And what’s the reason?” Wooyoung asked. “That you almost found out information about Star 1117’s location? And now you’re going to the red zone? Hell, if I had to say, it would look like you’re on the right path.”

Yeosang exchanged glances with you- Wooyoung was on to something. It made sense- if you had tried stealing information about any other thing, perhaps the Space Council wouldn’t have reacted so brashly.

“Alright, forwards we go,” you announced and Jongho nodded, immediately going back to steering the spaceship. “But if at any point we feel like it’s dangerous, we’re going back, space patrol or not.”

“Got it,” Jongho grinned, speeding up the ship once again. You went back to the dome to activate the shield, deciding not to go on the offensive for as long as you could manage- you didn’t want more charges added to your criminal record.

For a few moments, all of you focused on your tasks- Yeosang blasting any rocket that came your way, Jongho focusing on entering the red zone while Wooyoung assisted him, monitoring the radio. You gave directions from the dome, silently praying that this mission would not be a futile one when you heard the familiar static noise from the broken radio.

Immediately, all of you were hovering around Wooyoung and watching the radio try to display a message on its screen but failing to. It looked like something was disrupting its signals.

“It has to be because we’re near, right?” Wooyoung looked up at you and you nodded.

“Keep following the source- I’m going to try and get readings from outside,” you told them but before you could move and anyone else could verbally stop you, Wooyoung grabbed your wrist.

“Don’t go outside. It’s too dangerous.”

“I’m only opening the dome,” you told him gently, your heart clutching at the sight of worry in his eyes- for you. “I’ll be right here.”

Wooyoung hesitantly let you go and you gave him a small smile before going back up and opening the dome, taking a little peek out. You rested your palms on the surface of the exterior and let the neurons spread around the spaceship so you could read the air and the surroundings- it didn’t always work but sometimes when there was something foreign in the air, you could read it.

“We’re entering the red zone in front of us in about two minutes, Captain,” Jongho warned. “You sure you want to be out?”

“I’ll be fine- it’s not dangerous,” you assured him but still shut the dome halfway in case you would have to retreat in an emergency.

However, nothing could have prepared you for what happened next.

Jongho announced that you were going to enter the zone in about thirty seconds and Yeosang positioned himself beside you with his gun. The two of you were covering the back of the spaceship when the air around you turned foggy, indicating that you were in the red zone’s range. You were just trying to get a reading when you saw something from the corner of your eye-

“Jongho!” You warned but it was too late- another spaceship came out of nowhere from within the red zone and hit the back of your spaceship so that Jongho lost control of the steering. The impact of the collision made your spaceship swerve dangerously to the left, making it spin. Yeosang lost his footing and unceremoniously landed down, shouting in warning and you retracted your neurons just in time to draw your hands back before the domed window fell back in its place. You would have fallen in a painful position but Yeosang managed to catch you just in time, though the rocking of your spaceship still made your head bang against the ladder rather painfully.

“I got it!” Jongho shouted and managed to stabilise the ship, and the gasp that he let out when he finally got a clear view outside made you wonder if something had gone wrong-

But Wooyoung looked just as speechless. Yeosang helped you up, making sure you were okay before you two joined them to look at the scene outside-

It was the same pitch black darkness of the space, void of any stars but surrounded by the blue masses of gas. And right at the centre was a small, glowing thing- it was too far to make out its shape but it looked like a rock from afar.

“Are we inside the red zone?” You asked in confusion.

“We crossed it, and now we’re inside the space surrounded by the red zones,” Jongho settled back in his seat in surprise.

“And we’re getting a proper signal- look,” Wooyoung managed to add amidst the confusion of the situation, pointing at Jongho’s device that you had used to track the signal from Wooyoung’s radio.

“There’s no one following us anymore” Yeosang went to check from the dome as if he couldn’t believe the radar readings. “We’re alone here.”

“Did you see the ship that crashed with ours?” You asked and Yeosang shook his head in denial. “Damage report?”

“Minor, nothing to be worried about for now,” Jongho assured. “So? Do we inspect that? Why is it glowing like that?”

You looked at the luminous thing in the middle of the space- this couldn’t be Star 1117, right? It was too small to be a planet. Was Yeosang right then? Was this just a byproduct rock or mass of the star that was once a planet?

“Before we go,” you began, a suspicion gnawing at you. “Let me read the collision real quick. There’s something odd about the spaceship that collided with ours.”

“Right? We didn’t detect it on the radar,” Jongho said.

“That might have been because of whatever was messing with the radio signals?” Wooyoung suggested but you weren’t sure. You went back to climb the ladder that led to the dome and this time, you sat outside on the surface while you protracted the neurons to read.

And what you saw made cold wash all over you- you must have let out a surprised sound because Yeosang was outside with you, his eyes filled with worry.

“It can’t be,” you shook your head. Nothing made sense anymore.

“What is it?” Yeosang asked. “Tell me.”

“It was our spaceship,” you told him and he frowned in confusion. “I saw our spaceship- this exact one.”

“That’s impossible,” Yeosang shook his head. “Maybe you’re wrong?”

“I’ve never been wrong,” a grim realisation started to dawn on you and you beckoned him to follow you down. “It wasn’t detected on our radar because it’s our spaceship. And it must have crashed with ours to bring us here, to this point.”

“Are you thinking… duplicates? Time travel?” Jongho looked at you in disbelief. “I could call you crazy if we weren’t here right now, but… you know those are just theories, right?”

“You can choose not to believe me,” you said, understanding his point, “But I know what I saw.”

“Time travel in the Temporal Nexus, huh?” Wooyoung scratched his chin in thought. “Isn’t that what Temporal Nexus means in the first place? A point where different timelines intersect?”

“That refers to the points in our galaxy when the cycle of one planet comes to a completion right when the cycle of another planet begins,” Yeosang said, his eyes narrowing in thought. “Unless…”

“Unless your Space Council decided that’s what you all should know?” Wooyoung smiled knowingly. “Just like they didn’t tell you about that thing? About the red zones? About Star 1117? About Star 1118?”

“Let’s just… inspect that first before we start drawing conclusions,” Jongho said weakly and you all agreed, taking a seat next to the two. You sat next to Wooyoung and looked at him- could he be right?

He seemed to understand exactly what you were feeling, and when he slid his hand in yours, you didn’t draw away. You held it and squeezed it back. You needed that.

And it seemed like he needed that more when you started getting closer to the luminous form and realised that it looked more like a person than a rock or a star.

“Am I… going crazy?” Jongho asked, pressing the side of his glasses to zoom in, “or is that a literal fucking person hovering in the middle of space?”

“Are you sure that’s our source?” Yeosang sounded doubtful as he looked at Wooyoung who was beyond speechless, for once. You checked for him and sure enough, you were on the right path.

“Stop the spaceship,” you said when you saw the figure move and Jongho immediately did. The figure- person- turned around and all of you wowed and cursed under your breaths.

“That’s just… an Original Nexi, right?” Yeosang stood up to get a better view, prompting Jongho to continue approaching the figure. “Apart from the… glowing part.”

It sure looked like one- it had the characteristic androgynous appearance of one, with a stone etched under one eye like a teardrop. Jongho stopped the spaceship and looked at you.

“Are we inviting them in or are you going out?”

“No way that thing steps inside,” Yeosang shivered involuntarily. “I don’t want my spaceship glowing and sticking out like a sore thumb.”

“I’m pretty sure the glowing isn’t contagious,” Jongho laughed. “But he’s right. It’s better if the two of you go out. We humans can chill and watch, right, Wooyoung?”

“Right,” he sank lower in his seat. “You’re on your own, sweethearts.”

Yeosang scowled at the human before extending his hand for you.

“Don’t even try to read that thing,” Wooyoung warned in a low voice. You pursed your lips in answer before you joined Yeosang, exiting the spaceship from the dome and climbing down at the shaft that Jongho had opened for you to stand on.

You were now facing the figure, standing tall and powerful- there was no way this was just one of the Original Nexi- this person and everything about their presence was making you want to sink to your knees.

“Ah… how many times have we crossed paths now?” Its voice, smooth as silk, sounded inside you. Startled, you looked at Yeosang who was just as shocked, if not more.

“I don’t think we have crossed paths…” you narrowed your eyes as the person smiled knowingly. “Who are you?”

“I take it you got the message, then? It must be our first time meeting,” the person sighed as if the weight of the world was crushing it down. You noticed how up close, the glow from its skin wasn’t as obvious- perhaps, you were engulfed in it now.

“Who are you?” Yeosang asked. “And how are you here, like this?”

“Who do you think?” It asked, positioning itself so it looked like it was perched on an invisible surface. “You are looking for Star 1118, right?”

“And how do you know that?” You asked. This time, there was no apprehension in your voice but simply curiosity and wonder.

“Because I am the one you have been looking for,” the smile on its lips was so sad that it made you want to cry. “I am the one you saved and the one you let go of. I am the beginning and the end of this Temporal Nexus- I am Temporal Nexus, in its truest form. I am what you call Star 1117, and what you will call Star 1118 if you make the mistake of saving me.”

This time, your knees did go weak and Yeosang let out a gasp, utterly astounded. The person just watched you both with eyes that were both apologetic and full of resentment.

“Star 1117… is a person?” You breathed.

“Not really,” Star 1117 shrugged, the golden long hair flowing like a halo around its figure. “Just one of my forms. Just one of my names.”

“I don’t understand,” you said, turning to look at Jongho and Wooyoung who were listening in to your conversation from inside, both equally dumbfounded.

“Sweet child of the Nexi,” Star 1117 began. “I am the Temporal Nexus. I am all the stars in this galaxy and their cycle. I am the Original Nexi, the very first, and all of you are my descendants. At this moment, I am Star 1117- Star 1116’s cycle is almost complete and as a cycle comes to completion, I start assuming the next form. This is my final form, for the final cycle- there are no planets anymore- not after 1116.”

You did not know for how long you simply watched the person’s figure shimmer as if it was also a mass of gas- perhaps, if you touched it, your hand would pass right through its form. You and Yeosang stood in shock, trying to process your thoughts.

Star 1117 was a person, not a planet. This being was the core of the Temporal Nexus.

“If you are the Temporal Nexus,” Yeosang began, glancing at you for a moment before continuing, “you must be the past and the present. Isn’t the last cycle supposed to be the 1117th?”

“As the fates have intended, yes,” Star 1117 nodded. “And you’re out here to change that. In fact, you do. You find a way to save me and have the Temporal Nexus live its 1118th cycle. But that is where everything goes wrong,” the person smiled in a melancholic manner. “The Temporal Nexus is supposed to die with its intended last cycle. If you try to change the design of the universe, the universe finds a way to retaliate.”

“‘Do not save 1118’,” you quoted. “Why?”

“Because you triggered not only the end of the Temporal Nexus but the end of the galaxies surrounding me!” Star 1117’s voice boomed this time, making you clutch Yeosang’s hand. “The solar system is next- it will swallow in on itself, before its intended time. There will only be an end and no beginnings anymore.”

“That’s impossible,” you shook your head in disbelief. “You sent a message- to not save 1118. That means you were alive.”

“Oh, I was alive long enough to find a way to make things right,” Star 1117 smirked. “The human in your spaceship- it is he who sent my message. It is him who crashed into your spaceship just now so you made it here- it is him who gave us another chance to make things right and not make selfish decisions.”

You turned to look at Wooyoung who had an incredulous look on his face as he pointed at himself. You turned back to the Original Nexi.

“How?” Yeosang asked.

“In the time when I’m 1118, I’m weak and I fall,” Star 1117 admitted grimly. “The human who never made it to Star 1117 and never met any of you found my weak form. With his help, we formed the last link to the past and here we are. He does not remember because it is not him- it is the person who crashed his spaceship in yours. His origin and conclusion will remain to be unknown until you make a decision- save me, which will lead me to the human on Earth, or let me go, which will take us to a new path- perhaps, one where the world doesn’t end like that.”

“It was our spaceship that crashed into us,” you said.

“And I always wondered how he came to possess it,” Star 1117 sighed. “I hope you make the decision that leads to that moment in this timeline.”

“The decision to let you go?” You scoffed. “We will have no home- what about all of the Nexi? Aren’t they your children? Do you not care for them?”

“I do. But I have lived long enough, and I have seen what happens if you try to save your galaxy. Do not make the mistakes you have made so many times now,” Star 1117 almost pleaded. “Do not save me. Save yourselves.”

“I will save my home and the people who matter to me,” you said through gritted teeth. Yeosang put a warning hand on your shoulder but you shook it off. “You are the Temporal Nexus. You can’t die like this- you can’t take away my world- our world,” you motioned at the boys inside the spaceship. “I will find a way to save you and the galaxy.”

With that, you turned on your heels, not waiting for Yeosang. You were far too overwhelmed to think or care.

“There is no other way. You have tried everything. You have failed every time.”

Star 1117’s words were lost to space. Yeosang stood awkwardly, wanting to follow you inside but having too many questions of his own to do that. He turned to the being.

“If you are the Original Nexi, does that not mean that you grow old and young like your descendants?”

“I did, in the beginning, when I was young. When I was Star 1,” Star 1117 smiled. “After a certain time, when I started approaching my end, I got stuck in this miserable state, unable to age and unable to do anything but exist and die a little with each cycle,” the star raised its hand, proving that indeed, there was a translucence to its body indicating the weariness that dripped from its voice in a physical form. “Your people- the Space Council- they protected me and tried to help me, but to no avail. They realise that there is no answer to this. Some things are meant to die at their time, Kang Yeosang. Tell your friends that I have suffered enough for this world.”

—-------------------------------

You must be human, you thought, because you couldn’t stop crying.

Ever since the conversation with Star 1117, you had been overwhelmed to no end. You came back to the spaceship and shut yourself in your room. You knew the boys let you have your space for a while but it was Jongho who came to knock on your door first.

“Captain? You alright in there?”

You didn’t respond though you were pretty sure he could hear your sniffles. He continued. “I’m not exiting the red zone until you’re out, okay? Until I have your orders. Take your time, I understand.”

You muttered a thank you and that was enough for Jongho. It was Yeosang who came next to check on you.

“All that talk about not being as emotional as a human. Tsk tsk. Look at you,” Yeosang said, attempting to lighten the mood. You did let out a dark chuckle though that only made you cry some more.

“Come on. Tell me what’s got you crying so much.”

“I just need a few minutes,” you told him. “I’m sorry for being a mess.”

“It’s okay- just… come to us if it’s too much, okay? You’re not alone.”

You knew that. You were not alone, however, you had never felt more lonely. And you were starting to realise why-

You had subconsciously read Star 1117. While Star 1117 had been making all those claims, your neurons protracted just a fraction. The luminous light around you was a part of the being after all-

And all you got to read was pain. Extreme pain- not the physical kind, but the one that weighed on your soul. You felt utter loneliness- one that crushed you like nothing else. You felt the urge to cease existing but also felt helplessness like nothing else. No wonder Star 1117 had sounded so weary. You couldn’t imagine being in its place.

But then… what about your home? What about your people? What guarantee was there that you could all make it safely out of the Temporal Nexus when the last cycle comes to a conclusion? You had only one purpose in life ever since you understood how your home would die in your lifetime- and that was to prevent it. If you could not stop the unavoidable, you would have liked to have found a new home-

But there would be no home in the Temporal Nexus anymore. This spaceship was not a home. Space pods were not home- besides, you would have to find a place in another galaxy. What if you were never welcomed anywhere anymore? What if your family and friends refused to leave this galaxy?

You must have stopped crying a while ago, staring endlessly at the plain ceiling when a knock sounded. You had no energy to hum a response. The door clicked open and someone peeked in.

“I’m coming in,” Wooyoung announced, sitting next to you on the floor in a similar crouching position, your backs against the wall.

“Drink some water- please,” Wooyoung requested and you finally spared him a glance, taking the water bottle and drinking a few gulps.

The water from Star 1116. That was your home.

“Did you finally process all of it?” Wooyoung asked.

“I don’t know what to do,” you told him, “I’m so lost.”

“You read Star 1117, didn’t you?” Wooyoung asked gently, already knowing the answer. He couldn’t help but slide closer when you nodded with an absolutely heartbreaking expression, tears in your eyes. He intertwined his hand with yours and let you rest your head on his shoulder- he could tell you were tired but he needed to tell you something too.

He told you that he went outside to have a conversation with Star 1117, and he told you what he learned from it- specifically about Star 1118 and Wooyoung’s role in all of this.

“The Temporal Nexus is the point where the past, the present and the future meet,” Wooyoung explained, his voice uncharacteristically soft. “In the past, there was an alien girl who was half-human but had beef with her own human counterpart. Her name was y/n-”

“Wooyoung-” you warned though the two of you shared a chuckle over that.

“She was the captain of her little crew, with Jongho the human driver, and Yeosang the pretty alien… fighter? Engineer? What even is his role?”

“We don’t have roles, we just… make do with what we can do,” you shook your head. “But carry on.”

“Right. So, the Captain learns that Star 1116’s cycle is about to end, and that Star 1117 is not a planet but a being by infiltrating into the Space Council- this time through the main door, not the vents,” Wooyoung laughed. “She learns about how the Space Council have also been trying to find a solution to save their home but are closer to giving up than to finding answers. Together- because that time you don’t become a space criminal- you find a way to prolong Star 1117’s cycle by concentrating the energy of all the red zones scattered out in the galaxy and transferring it to the last cycle.”

“That makes sense,” you nodded. “Red zones are energy byproducts of the previous planets.”

“Right? Star 1117 reluctantly agrees, and you all succeed- Star 1116’s cycle prolongs and leaks to Star 1117’s. The original last cycle, the 1117th, was supposed to be a shorter one since it’s just the galaxy ending itself before it reaches the 1118th cycle. But this time, the 1118th cycle begins. You all realise that you made a grave mistake and that the galaxy will eat itself like it was supposed to, but since it requires more energy to do that now, it will swallow the neighbouring galaxies and possibly trigger the end.”

You took a deep breath. “I triggered the end.”

“Not you alone, but basically… yeah. It suits you, doesn’t it?” Wooyoung chuckled, letting go of your hand to wrap his arm around your shoulders and caress your arms assuringly.

“Not helping,” you muttered.

“Well,” Wooyoung huffed in resignation. “You try to make things right. You get this spaceship to Star 1117 and get it on board- its form is weakened by then and it is Star 1118 by that time. You set the destination to Earth, knowing someone on Earth would have figured out that their solar system was going to collapse soon and would do anything to change things. You leave the poor Star alone and go to save your family and friends.”

“And Star 1118 makes it to you?”

“Somehow, yes,” Wooyoung nodded. “I have always studied the Temporal Nexus deeply, so when I receive signals on my radio- yes, the radio I have now- I go to investigate the source and find your spaceship underwater near my hometown. With the help of my friends and the Space Centre on Earth, I recover that ship and find an ethereal being inside- Star 1118. Since the being is the Temporal Nexus- the past, the present, and the future of your galaxy- it finds traces of itself on me from another time.”

“Oh heavens,” you raised your head up to look at him. “It’s a time loop, isn’t it?”

“More romantic than that. We were meant to meet, y/n,” he smiled widely, pinching your nose but you were too surprised to react. “Star 1118 sets the loop into motion- or rather, propels it forwards and backwards, forwards and backwards. Jung Wooyoung now has one mission- to find the tear in space that will transport him to that moment to warn you-”

“The spaceship that collided with us,” you breathed, understanding how it worked. “It must have taken a few attempts.”

“Hence why it is a loop,” Wooyoung nodded. “However, Jung Wooyoung also did something else, which was quite genius of him if I have to say.”

“And what’s that?”

“Jung Wooyoung and Star 1118 worked together to send messages to my radio, which prompted the present me to make different decisions. And here we are,” he concluded with a dramatic sigh. “Things have changed. You can still make the same decisions and it might lead to a time where Star 1118 is not able to go to Earth to warn Jung Wooyoung. That would be the end. Or…”

“Or I could let it be,” you shrugged away from Wooyoung’s arm and buried your face in your hands.

“I think you already know, but Star 1117 has suffered a lot,” Wooyoung said, and you were once again amazed by how gently he talked to you despite knowing what you had done- what you might do. “It suffered alone for 1117 cycles. You put an end to its sufferings and you might find a new home. A better one.”

“My home is Star 1116,” you said, though the words started to sound like a weight over your heart now. “Not everyone can let go of their home.”

“I thought you understood by now that home is where the heart is,” Wooyoung said and you looked at him to find him smiling. “Where’s your heart, y/n?”

Like the soft embrace of a mother, you felt the answer wrap around the physical organ that was your heart- the answer that was a feeling, an emotion- and not strictly a human one at all. You didn’t have to be human to understand that your heart belonged to the people around you- to your family because they were yours, to Jongho and Yeosang who were your friends, and to Wooyoung- the human who had to be your saving grace.

Home was also the house and the land where you grew up, but it was not the location or the building that made it a part of your heart- it was the things that you associated with home. Your alien mother, your human father. Their parents who had once lived there, whose memory clung to the walls and was etched in the frames that sat on the mantle. Home was the lake next to your house but what made it a part of your heart was the memories of splashing water on Jongho and Yeosang, and the memories of your parents teaching you how to swim.

Home was where the heart was. And as long as you had the pieces of your heart next to you, you would be home.

“Did you find the answer?” Wooyoung cupped your face to wipe the tears that left your eyes, smiling knowingly. You smiled back, clutching his hands that were caressing your cheeks.

“Home is where the heart is,” you told him, your voice wet with emotions. “And you are my heart, Jung Wooyoung.”

Wooyoung’s eyes curved like moons as his smile grew wider. He nodded, the two of you sharing a laugh. You couldn’t help but notice how beautiful this piece of your heart was. You leaned forward to rest your hands on his neck, surprising him a bit. His hands went to rest on your waist and you pecked his lips, looking at him shyly before pecking them again, unable to look at him any longer so you closed the distance between you two as you hugged him. He let out a laugh of disbelief before he relaxed, burying his nose in the crook of your neck and hugging you back just as tightly, rocking your bodies slightly.

“I found a home with you too,” he whispered. “Thank you.”

You nodded, your heart filling with foreign emotions- like a pleasant tickle to your heart. Perhaps, this was what it felt like to give your heart to someone.

—-----------------------------------

Everything was happening too soon for your liking, but with the help of your friends, you were coming to terms with the fact that you could not save the Temporal Nexus Galaxy- that there was nothing that could be done and the best decision you could make was to let Star 1117 go.

You stayed in the red zone for a whole day after your talk with Wooyoung. Exiting the red zone would mean confronting the Space Patrol and you had to make a decision before that. Jongho and Yeosang were coping by studying about time loops and talking to Star 1117 about how it worked and if there was any possibility that could work- if Star 1117 was all the past, present and the future of the Temporal Nexus, it would know if any of the decisions the residents of its galaxy made led to a hopeful future. But there was none.

After exhausting every possibility, they finally came to talk to you and let you know that they had made their decisions- they were going to get their families out of Star 1116 and find a new home. They were also aware that some of their families and acquaintances might choose to stay and disintegrate with the planet, with their home. Now they were just waiting for you to make your decision.

And it was a little conversation with Jongho that made you wonder just what you had been so bitter about.

You joined him by the window as he stared at the blue masses of energy around the spaceship. He smiled to acknowledge your presence before saying, “Wouldn’t it be so good if we could just go back to the past and relive our childhood?”

You smiled back- your childhood really was a fond memory, something you kept very close to your heart. “How young are we talking?”

“Hmm… good question. What would you say is your happiest memory on Star 1116?”

“Honestly? Probably the time when I showed you and Yeosang that I finally learned to swim. We had a little fight afterwards about whose technique was better,” you said and he grinned at that.

“What do you think? Would you like to go back to the past?”

You pursed your lips in thought. Sure, your past was a golden memory and saying that you missed that time and wanted to go back wasn’t supposed to hold literal meaning, but if you were offered to go back, would you?

“What about you?” You asked.

Jongho exhaled, putting his hands in his pockets. “I wouldn’t. I like where I am now. I’m still with you and Yeosang. Nothing has changed.”

You nodded- your answer was the same.

“And I will continue to be where the two of you are,” Jongho added. “Create more happy memories. Hell, maybe we’ll look back to this moment one day, right?”

You nodded slowly. Wooyoung had changed your perspective a lot and you were finally starting to understand Jongho.

“I might even visit Earth and see what the hype is about,” Jongho suggested and you chuckled. “Maybe we can all go to drop Wooyoung. He’s slowly taking over the spaceship. Next thing we know we’ll be calling him captain and he’ll be slaving us.”

“Right? Maybe we can chuck him into that mass and see where he lands,” you pointed at the red zone in front of you, sharing a laugh with Jongho.

“You know, I thought about it a lot, why in all the timelines that exist, according to Star 1117, you- we keep making the same decision- trying to save the galaxy. Do you know what’s the only difference this time and why we all are seriously considering letting things be?”

“Wooyoung?”

“Yes,” Jongho confirmed. “This is the only timeline known to Star 1117 where he makes a different decision and ends up being a part of the crew. Makes you think about how the butterfly effect works, right?” He ruminated. “In all the timelines, we made different decisions that led us to the same outcome- apocalypse. Things are very different now, and this might be our last chance at making sure we do not trigger the apocalypse.”

“I know,” you folded your arms around you, hugging yourself. “We can’t be the only factor triggering the apocalypse though, right? What if we make the right decisions this time but we still end up losing everything?”

“Well… only one way to find out- if we make the right decisions now,” Jongho looked at you, hope in his eyes. “So. Did you make a decision?”

“I think you know,” you looked wistfully into the space around you. “Let’s go say goodbye to our home.”

Jongho smiled proudly at you. “Star 1117 told me that you were very bitter and hellbent on saving the galaxy in all the timelines. It’s good to see you smile like this, Captain. You seem almost human.”

“I am human,” you said casually but for Jongho, it was the first time hearing you acknowledge your human lineage and he put a hand over his mouth dramatically to stifle a gasp. You only rolled your eyes in response, spotting Wooyoung from the corner of your eye who simply passed you both a cheeky smile and waved before disappearing into the kitchen. You recalled just how adamant you had been about not accepting that you were human too.

But being human didn’t sound so bad anymore.

And with that decision, you said your goodbye to Star 1117. The being did not thank you for making the right decision. It simply curled in on itself and weeped, the tears escaping its eyelids and evaporating into the air like glitter. You felt the being’s exhaustion and sadness as though it was tangible and that only made you more sure about what you had to do.

Right as you exited the red-zone territory, there was a spaceship waiting for you. It signalled for you to stop and a person stepped out, displaying their Space Council id and demanding to enter your ship. For a moment, you were scared of the consequences of your action- were you going to be arrested now? Would you not get to say goodbye to your home? But when the person made an okay sign, a collective sigh of relief passed and Yeosang pressed the button to open the door for them.

The tall figure clad in a black striped suit with a waistcoat entered, looking around your spaceship with curiosity. You noticed silver extensions on one of his hands, kind of like your neurons except they almost looked like an accessory. The other hand was covered in a black glove and you wondered why.

“Greetings,” he smiled. “I’m Jeong Yunho from the Space Council. It’s good to finally meet you, y/n.”

“Me?” You frowned. “Do I know you?”

“You don’t,” he shrugged, “but I do. From multiple timelines. I’ve been on your case since the very first timeline, working with Star 1117 to find a solution that does not involve exterminating you because Star 1117 insisted that while you and your friends may be its doom, you could also be its saviour.”

You suddenly felt dizzy at his admission.

“Maybe one day I’ll tell you about my adventures chasing your crew,” Yunho chuckled. “But for now… I’d like to accompany you to Star 1116 and make sure you stay on the right track. You will need me if you want to go home because I have not yet lifted your criminal charges. And… you have an unregistered human aboard,” Yunho glanced at Wooyoung who waved his hand awkwardly. “We have a lot to do, folks.”

You scanned his figure with suspicion, your neurons extracting subconsciously wanting to get a reading from him. He noticed that.

“If it helps,” he began. “I’m one of the Original Nexi. There’s a group of us that work in the Space Council solely for the sake of protecting Star 1117.”

“You’re letting Star 1117 die, though,” Yeosang commented in your stead and you silently thanked him. That had been on the tip of your tongue too.

“The Temporal Nexus is called temporal for a reason, isn’t it?” He retorted. “To protect the essence of Star 1117 and this galaxy is to protect its heart- its residents. But I think you all already understand that by now.”

The knowing smile he passed you made you want to ask more questions but he interrupted with clapping and barking orders- you were apparently short on time now and needed to inform the residents of Star 1116 and the rest of the galaxy as soon as possible so everyone could make the big decisions and they could initiate their final operation- to leave the galaxy for good.

And it was no surprise that it was Wooyoung who got the Original Nexi to talk and open up. While Jongho set the spaceship on auto towards Star 1116, the three of you watched from a corner, huddled next to each other. Not too far on the table sat Wooyoung with a warm meal for Yunho, learning anything and everything about the Original Nexi and Yunho himself, learning about his experience with your crew in the different timelines and more. You didn’t even realise that you were biting your nails with narrowed eyes full of scepticism until Wooyoung looked around for you and laughed at the sight of the three of you.

“I guess I’m relaxed because it is actually our first meeting- we haven’t met in any other timeline,” Wooyoung grinned. “Not that I would have known if we had anyway. Right?”

“Right,” Yunho grinned back, shaking his head at the three of you. “Just a reminder that we were friends in some timeline and enemies in the other.”

“Yeah, I think I can understand why,” Yeosang muttered, looking pointedly at Wooyoung.

“How are you able to remember the timelines?” Jongho asked his first question in a while.

“These,” Yunho raised both his hands and shared a look with you. “We’re quite similar, but I’m able to look into different timelines too.”

You made an impressed face and the blinkers lit up, indicating that you were reaching Star 1116’s territory. Jongho went to steer the spaceship himself and Yunho joined him, striking up a conversation having noticed the equipment on the dashboard. While the two talked, Wooyoung joined you and Yeosang, resting his hand on your knee and squeezing it to make sure you were okay. You nodded in response and pointed at the screen, your heart filling with warmth at the sight of the star.

“We’re home.”

Home. As soon as you could see the lush green fields that surrounded your house, you were on your feet and making your way to the screen, eager to step out. You would have to land at the Space Centre where you previously worked and Yunho made sure you could pass through every security check without any inconvenience. Wooyoung stood next to you and you told him all about the Space Centre and your time as a unit there.

Wooyoung’s eyes were filled with awe, his mouth parted in surprise as you all stepped out of the spaceship. The view from the screen had been good, yes, but nothing compared to stepping inside that picture, and for Wooyoung who was a human from Earth… you wondered if that was what your great grandparents and their team must have felt when they first landed on Star 1116.

“It’s like Earth, you were right,” Wooyoung nodded, almost jumping when a few will-o’-the-wisps circled his figure and fluttered away. Jongho giggled at his reaction and smacked his back.

“Like Earth but prettier, right?” He said. “That’s what I keep hearing.”

“No, you heard that right,” Wooyoung agreed. “Our grass looks dull compared to this- how is it so vibrant?”

“Wait till you see the lakes,” you told him, knowing that was probably the most surprising part from the memories of your great grandfather.

“We should show him the cave too!” Yeosang joined you both. “It’s a nice spot to bury him- no one would know. He’ll be dust along with the planet-”

“And he would never make it past the tarantulas that protect the cave,” Jongho chuckled darkly and Wooyoung decided he felt safer with Yunho, falling in step with him while the Nexi shook his head in amusement at the interaction.

“You should have chucked me in the red zone,” Wooyoung folded his arms and you snickered until you realised that he must have heard that bit from your conversation with Jongho. You exchanged a glance with the youngest who pointed at you, transferring all the blame. Wooyoung’s pout deepened and you took a deep breath.

“Boys, I’m going to steal this one for a while,” you went towards Wooyoung and hooked your arm around his, your crew hooting in appreciation and suggestively wiggling their brows, Yeosang going as far as pretending to gag. You asked Yunho if it was fine and he assured that it was, asking all of you to meet up back at the Space Centre in a few hours. You intertwined your hand with Wooyoung’s.

“What would you like to see first?”

“Hmm…” Wooyoung took a while to think, his eyes scanning everything in sight the further you walked away from the Space Centre, looking at the passersby with curiosity- you couldn’t blame him. The residents of Star 1116 looked far from human in their appearance- from looking almost human like Yeosang to having iridescent coloured skin or accessories like horns or wings.

“Show me your favourite places- all of them,” Wooyoung looked at you, kissing your temple. “Show me the shade of the tree near your house where you grew up, the lake… the places from the journals that you talked about- everything.”

“Would you like to meet my family too?” You asked hesitantly, not sure if the human would be up to it but his warm smile erased any doubts in your heart.

“I would love to.”

“My mother will love you,” you laughed. “My father can be a little… hard to please.”

“Well, I know just how to win his heart,” he winked at you and you accepted the challenge.

You showed him all your favourite places, keeping your house for the last. You walked around the streets without a care in the world for the first time in a while, making him try some local delicacies and showing him the animals unique to Star 1116- it was more of a surprise to him to find that the things you called ‘dogs’ here were more spiky than furry and he told you that you were missing out on the joy of hugging a dog. You grimaced- hugging a dog here would create pokes in your skin unless you had scales or a protective barrier like most of the aliens here.

You took him to one of the bigger lakes in the area and he was utterly fascinated by the way he could see almost every creature inside the lake thanks to the glowing properties of the soil under the lake. He experimentally dipped his hand inside the water, feeling the coolness of the lake quite like Earth’s but somehow feeling more at ease- it always unsettled him when he was near a water body on Earth and could only imagine what was prowling inside. He looked around, noticing the little things that made Star 1116 so beautiful- mountains made of smooth, patterned rocks. Trees with leaves of multiple colours, unaffected by the season and with little gems dangling from the tips of its branches where flowers would have been. The strange birds with their unusually elongated bodies that flew in the sky. The sky that was dark and the ground that he stood on that lit the planet.

It was truly a magnificent sight, and Wooyoung could understand why you- why everyone was reluctant to let go of their home.

Lastly, you walked to your house and you pointed at all the places on the way which had some memory associated with them. You told him about how the humans lived in a little community here- most of them were too old to leave their home. Some of them rarely came home, opting to explore the space instead- like you. Then you told him about your family- your mother was a crime scene investigator and your father was a medical researcher. Wooyoung was impressed to hear that and told you he would love to hear more about that.

When you reached the little cottage by the lake, you paused and took a deep breath, taking in everything. It was still the same- the wooden exterior looking worn out, the smell of wet mud filling your nose, the sound of children in the distance. You pointed at the house.

“That’s me.”

Wooyoung nodded, giving your hand a squeeze to tell you that he was ready. You walked towards the door and pressed your thumb on the lock, the door clicking open and then you heard the familiar footsteps of your mother approach you. Her face lit up at the sight of you and then she paused when she saw your hand in Wooyoung’s. She scanned him with curiosity. You looked back and forth between the two- it would only be a moment until your mother would realise that Wooyoung was not a human. And Wooyoung-

You could tell why he looked surprised- your mother wore her neuron extensions like a crown over her head at all times. Apart from her striking copper hair, she looked very much like you.

Your mother smiled knowingly at the two of you before spreading her arms and you grinned, walking right in her embrace and melting into it.

“Well done, love,” she whispered. “I heard about what happened with the Space Council and Star 1117. You did so well.”

“I’m sorry,” you told her, knowing that she didn’t need your words to hear what you were sorry about, nor did she need to read you. She simply knew what you meant. She always did.

“No need for that,” she drew back with a kiss to your forehead. “I see you have a guest.”

“Yes, this is-”

“A human,” your father completed that for you, clad in a mismatched outfit which was indication that he had been holed up in his room with some research again. Wooyoung finally bowed at your parents.

“Nice to meet you. I’m Jung Wooyoung… from Earth.”

“And what are you doing here with my daughter?” Your father inquired. You may have rolled your eyes if this was any other situation but your mother let you know that she had also heard about Wooyung’s role in the recent events. Relaxing a bit, you let Wooyoung handle the situation.

“She arrested me, sir.”

The room was silent for a moment before your mother snorted, ending up with all of you laughing and you shook your head at Wooyoung- you had never told him about how your parents met but it was something similar. Your father welcomed him with a pat and kissed the top of your head before steering him to the lounge, eager to hear the stories from Earth.

And just like that, the house became a home with Wooyoung and your mother cooking together while they chatted, your father and you catching up with each other. Not too long after, the doorbell rang and in came Jongho and Yeosang, claiming to have ‘smelt’ Wooyoung’s cooking all the way to their house. They definitely didn’t get a message from your mother to join them.

You had about half an hour left until you had to go to the Space Centre. Your heart felt full watching all the people you loved gathered and Wooyoung fitting right in as if he had always been a part of this little unit. He caught you watching him with a smile on your face and raised his brows in question. You signalled that you were going outside and once he joined you, you asked if he wanted to sit by the lake.

“I’ve been soaking up all the memories of today,” you told him, showing the neurons on your fingertips shaped like nails. “I don’t think I can ever forget today’s events.”

“I did well, right?” He smiled proudly when you nodded in response. “Well, I’ve always been everyone’s favourite even back on Earth.”

You made a face at that and he scoffed. “Read me if you don’t believe me.”

“I do believe you- you have a way of charming people,” you admitted and he grinned. You showed him the spot next to some big rocks where you used to sit when you needed space.

“This is probably my favourite spot on the whole planet,” you told him, flattening your hands on the ground once you sat, reliving the memories of this place in quick flashes.

“I can see why,” Wooyoung looked around. With your home on the back and the view of the mountains in the front, he thought he could stay here forever.

“Yunho told me that Star 1116 will die soon, but the galaxy itself won’t end soon- it will take some time and if we’re lucky, it won’t happen in our lifetime,” you sighed deeply. “I don’t know if that’s good or bad. We will still need to find a new home. We can’t make one in the Temporal Nexus anymore.”

“Well… if you hadn’t told me that Star 1116 was your home, I would have assumed the spaceship was,” he said and you raised a brow. “It has such a homey feel to it. We can take all our time to explore the other galaxies and find a new home.”

“We?”

“You don’t think I’m going back to Earth just like that, do you?” Wooyoung tsk-ed. “Not without you, at least.”

“Really?” You made a face. “I thought I’d be getting rid of you soon-”

Wooyoung leaned forward right when you turned, your noses brushing and your heart fluttering. Wooyoung’s gaze fell on your lips and a little smirk creeped on his own lips.

“I know why you have your kitty claws out, sweetheart,” he tilted his head just a fraction and you instinctively gulped. “You’ve been saving all the memories of this place- with me this time.”

Well. He wasn’t wrong. Your lack of response was an answer to him and he fully smirked as he drew back.

You wanted to tell him that you brought him here to make one final memory of this place. You curled your fingers around his hand and when your eyes met, it was like he understood your intentions. He took your other hand and pulled you over him so that you settled on his lap.

You trailed the pointy tips of your neurons along his temple and his spine, making him shiver. He loved it when you watched him with fascination and teased him experimentally as if you were afraid of his reaction. However, he welcomed every little thing you did to him. He let you cup his face and when you kissed him, he groaned in relief before kissing you back, one hand supporting him up while the other curling in your hair. You moved your lips along his in synchronisation and you loved the way he held you.

You drew back once you were out of breath, sharing a grin- this was your first proper kiss. You rested your hands on his shoulders and he lay down on the ground, eliciting a surprised sound from your mouth at the new position. Before you could comment on it, he cupped your face and brought you in for another kiss, the other hand going to rest on your waist. It was slow and sensual, not a care for time or any other thing. Just you, Wooyoung and your favourite spot in the Temporal Nexus.

When you broke apart and settled down next to him in his arms, you watched the stars together and you showed him one that glowed with a very familiar golden tint.

“That must be Star 1117.”

Wooyoung agreed, absently caressing your arm. You looked at him, finding him deep in thought. You scratched his chin like you had seen him do to the black cat from his home and he smiled at that.

“What are you thinking?”

“I’m thinking… will you watch the stars with me every night from now on?”

You kissed his cheek in response.“Only if I get to sleep in your arms- you are my home, Jung Wooyoung.”

#and here it is my first space au hehe #wooyoung x reader #wooyoung fluff #wooyoung angst #wooyoung scenarios #wooyoung imagines #ateez x reader #ateez fluff #ateez angst #ateez scenarios #ateez imagines #ateez fanfic #ateez au #ateez ff #jung wooyoung

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satoruhour · 1 year ago

Note

need reader to have a confession with priest!geto about how they feel guilty for touching themselves late alone at night and priest!geto helps them by just fucking their brains out as a “penance” for their sins.

yes, i’m okay in the head btw! (lie)

AU REVOIR, O HEAVEN !

wc: 12.2k

warnings: DARK CONTENT, SLOW BUILDUP, CORRUPTION, priest!geto, fem!reader, age gap (reader is in early 20s, geto in late 20s), long descriptive fic that goes in depth of christian lore, lots and lots of christian references / metaphors / analogies, comparison to Satan’s banishment and fall from heaven, religious themes used in inappropriate ways, questions of religion and life, multiple scenes of f! and m! masturbation, fingering, clit stimulation, virginity loss, both f! and m! receiving oral, cumshot, praise, degradation, spitting, sex in a religious place, p -> v sex, unprotected sex, creampie / breeding kink, multiple rounds, n*sfw under the cut

for a small town like yours, it was a no-brainer that everyone knew everyone; and everyone’s drama as well. from the baker’s daughter being a whore to the mayor of the town being sacked for purposes that have since been twisted by word of mouth. that was another thing: word got around fast, and it was particularly suffocating in a conservative town such as yours. people were not outright about the obvious choices they favoured, but there was the older generation who were not shy to turn down progressive ideas.

because of that, the previous priest was kicked out because of the misuse of funds from mass collection and offertory. it was one thing to see a bunch of notes missing from the sack and the money counter but it was another thing to see that money going into funding a new strip club that was opening in the next town over.

it was simply unheard of, and the parishioners basically gave him a free ride to that very strip club by excommunicating him from his own church. it was unbecoming of a priest, especially in such a small congregation that everyone made sure the new priest to transfer here was a God-honouring one.

you hope he was. you’ve always felt the obligated need to serve your god and your parents. always the good girl, following the Ten Commandments, saving yourself for marriage. it was the natural order of a christian, and you could only hope that you’d get even a fraction of the eternal life they preach about in mass. but lately you’ve been having some . . thoughts, and you pray that this new priest could help you immensely, even if you had to do a hundred Hail Mary’s at the pews.

it was peculiar, the first time it occurred to you. the area where your body separates into two and forms two legs — the centre of it all, the middle where Eve had it covered in statues and paintings with a leaf, the middle where you had only learned of it in anatomical drawings. you knew what the vagina, cervix and the ovaries were, but seeing the convergence of pink and maroon between your legs confused you, even scared you.

and the next was when you’d had a guy come up to you whilst doing up your university application, saying something along the lines of how cute you were, would you like to grab a drink some time? and you were left dumbfounded and unable to answer. you let your eyes travel over his features, of the exposed arms of his button up shirt and the thickness of his forearms, you let your eyes skim over his plump thighs before you’re asked “are you okay?”

“n . . no sorry, i already have a boyfriend.” you lie through your teeth and all the guy does is sigh before walking away — but now you’re left with a bigger problem . . why was the thing between your legs throbbing? you swear you can feel your panties getting wet as well, but you aren’t quite sure why.

that night you’re lying in bed with a lewd website shining right in your face, as you’ve laid here for about two hours already, going through in your head whether you really wanted to do this. your hands had been clean, untainted from the moment you were born, but you imagine going to university and knowing not a thing about sex and that makes your whole body burn in embarrassment.

you chicken out and fall asleep.

“honey! come down here, i want you to meet someone.” your mother calls out to you, running about like she usually does. she’s always overworking — caring for the newborn, cooking the meals, cleaning the place. why don’t you ask dad to help sometimes? / nonsense! he works so hard and deserves a break! i don’t mind. / but he just lazes around at home after work . .

you’re pleasantly surprised to find a long-haired man at your front door, clad in a thick and loose turtleneck sweater with a gentle smile on his face. that uncomfortable feeling returns to your core and you land a hand to your stomach to calm the churning that’s happening.

“hello, and you are?”

you’d never think you would see one of God’s angels on earth in actual flesh in front of you. you’re convinced God is looking over you and you think you might see heaven when that silky voice repeats himself again.

“hi, kind miss, are you alright?”

“h . . huh? oh! yeah, uhm— who are you?”

your mother smacks you on your shoulder and sidles up to your side, holding onto your arm a little tightly that it hurts just a bit.

“don’t be rude!” she whisper-shouts to you, “this is geto suguru, and—”

“and i’m the new priest for the church.”

that catches you off-guard. he’s the new priest that was just transferred over? he looks anything but a holy man of God, what with his long hair and gauges in his ears; if you didn’t know any better you would think he was the one paying for the strip club instead. he seems to read your mind.

“i know i look . . a bit of a delinquent, miss, but i promise you the word of God is what i strictly live by. i honour and praise him with all that i can.”

“ah, i’m sorry if you thought i thought that way, father.” you mumble, giving him an awkward smile that he misses because he’s too busy focusing on the way you say father. you’re prepared to close the door on him already; the pulsing sensation between your legs isn’t fading and your whole body feels like it burns in hell. you rub your thighs together for some sort of relief, nothing.

“that’s usually the response i get, so i thought i would preface it first.” a little laugh leaves geto’s lips and if it wasn’t for you holding on for dear life on the door, you definitely would’ve buckled under your knees. “no hard feelings.”

“he’s a charmer, ain’t he?” there’s another sheepish laugh from the pastor at that. “told me he’s been going around giving cakes to all the people as a way to thank them for letting him take over the church.” your heart melts at that — he looked so hot and had a heart of gold, too?

“what cake did you get us, father?” you blurt out and you have no time to take it back, but the preacher doesn’t seem to mind. you also don’t seem to mind that barrier of authority that was established ever since he‘s introduced himself as the new priest of the church. it felt . . friendlier, less intimidating than the previous. it was probably mostly due to him not wearing his cassock or collar, though.

“chocolate.” that one word possibly ignited every nerve in you. the smooth lilt in his voice paired with the slight smirk. it was detrimental. you were going to hell, you were condemned to eternal damnation.

“how’d you know i liked chocolate?”

he shrugs, “lucky guess.” wrong.

he had come around the day before already, but you were too distracted with work and pressured with a deadline that music drained out everything else — one look at your side profile and the hard-working first year university student was all it took for geto to return again today with another cake of your liking. oh! you’re such a sweet one for asking what flavour we like; frankly, my dear boy, my husband and i don’t really eat cake but her . . loves it for some reason. i wonder where she gets the sweet tooth from, honestly.

geto could only thank his saviour that your mother had promised not to tell you he already came around yesterday. and it looks like she didn’t.

“i should get going, miss . .”

“(y/n).”

geto simply nods his head, resisting the urge to call your name pretty and only manages a decent call to your mother. “mrs (l/n), i’m heading off, thank you for having me. (y/n).”

you return his smile, hesitantly, inching the door close with immense difficulty — you wanted to see him walk away with that imposing height of his, of the proper gait he carried himself with and the politeness in which he greets people of the town.

that night you locked yourself in your room, muttering out some dumb excuse of having to study for a test when in reality you were more interested in the feeling between your legs. it both excited and scared you when you first find a comfortable position on your bed, stalling for a good half ’n hour before the clinking cutlery of dinner happening downstairs had brought you to your senses. there were countless articles open in your safari tab, none of which helped your growing dilemma — a tear in the Red Sea between the sin of pleasure and the liberation of acting on it. you felt like Moses, treading in the centre, on the fence.

one last text made you yelp out loud.

[8:03 pm, read]: R u coming down 4 dinner?

it was your mother, as if she knew what was happening behind doors.

[8:03 pm, delivered]: nope, sorry mummy. need to study for this test, its important !

[8:05 pm, read]: Alright, alright. I left out a serving of what we cooked tonite. Heat up if u need to with the microwave O.K.? Don’t sleep so late!

you simply favourited her message, losing all motivation from before; until your mind crosses over dinner and goes straight to that chocolate cake, and then to the person who had brought it.

“Farewell happy fields / Where joy forever dwells: Hail, horrors, hail.”

“geto . . geto suguru.” the name feels foreign. it does sound like a countryside name but it felt like he had come from the city instead. “geto . .” you sigh, letting your hands tremble and move along your body. they brush over your chest, over your nipples and you recoil a little from the strange feeling. they harden under your touch as you continue to repeat his name.

each murmur of his name is a step farther from God, dipping your toes into the waters of hell as your fingers travel lower, lower, lower. you press a finger against your clit unknowingly, and you let out a loud moan; you immediately slap a hand over your mouth.

but the pleasure’s too much, and so you try again. one hand goes back to your nipples, squeezing your tits and playing with them while your fingers rub pathetic circles along your core.

“su . .” you gulp. “geto—”

you pant softly to yourself as you continue to rub your clit, messy, inexperienced circles in whatever shape or form. as long as it felt good to you, you were doing it. you made sure to keep your moans in as your hips bucked into your hands, back arching off the bed in needy movements. your hands were getting tired, clutching at the bedsheets.

long hair, built physique, crucifix on his neck. funny, you never noticed that before, but now you imagine it clearly, dangling over your face. you’re imagining geto fucking you, thrusting his cock into you as he groans out your name.

you’re at the end of your tether, feeling the deep plunge of your body in Satan’s lair the same time you cum for the first time in your life and your body shakes so violently. you flail around on your bed, bite into your shirt, anything to keep you quiet from the immense orgasm you had just felt. your pussy clenches around nothing and your hand aches so much it might fall off, but it just feel so damn good that you only have a minute’s rest before you’re rubbing at your clit again.

scooping up a little of your cum, you marvel at the clear liquid, sucking on your finger to try the thing that’s always drenched your panties. and soon you’re conjuring the image of the long-haired priest yet again, never really studying for that test you made up or even eating dinner — all you do is rest and come again, each time more wrecked than the last time.

you dreaded going to church the next morning.

it had slipped your mind that service was to continue once geto has gotten settled down in the rectory, a small outhouse at the back of the church that had been revamped. you’re not sure on how father geto was able to get it done up so fast but, you’re not one to question.

with the short walk to church, you regret not eating the night before, groaning softly at the discomfort of your growling stomach. what you were more worried of though, was what would happen to you once you stepped foot in the church. was your body going to go up in flames? were you going to get ridiculed by the townspeople? were you going to get called out by father geto in front of everyone?

“what’s gotten you so worked up?” your father was walking behind and smoking, as always, not giving a shit about your mother and the newborn.

“nothing . . just, wondering if i got everything in my head for my test.” your mother coos, and your baby brother in the carrier thinks it’s because of him. he babbles into your mom’s shirt, giggling.

“you’ll do fine, honey,” the reassurance worried you only more. you were lying outright — you had no test, you weren’t even studying, you were busy—!

“i raised a smart girl, didn’t i?” you can only manage a smile, reaching the church within minutes. taking the chance to mutter a short prayer and a plea, you take a deep breath and that light from above Lucifer’s kingdom seem to call out to you again.

stepping into the simple but cozy church, you dip your hands in holy water. Father, Son, Holy Spirit along your forehead, chest and shoulders before you trail behind your mother, suggesting places for you to sit at the back. she only waved your hand away, pointing towards the front. we always sit at the front! why the sudden change? / nothing . . maybe thought we could switch it up a little.

the mass starts after a few minutes of waiting, and you have the luxury of wallowing in your self-pity and guilt for those few minutes, trying to get the very filthy imagery of father geto above you, father geto between your legs, father geto himself out of your head. you fail, it’s only amplified when the bell rings and the congregation stands up.

everyone waits in anticipation for the new priest in this small town, hoping he won’t disappoint them like the last one. but they already seem to be in good spirits as he makes the entrance down the very short church. two altar boys follow behind him in the procession, accompanied by an organist and a duo of choir singers, straining to have their voice heard over the loud instrument. he’s already made some friends, nodding to the excited kid who whispers and the shy girl who waves her hands at him. but while everyone feels anticipation in hopes of a good sermon, dread is only making your legs feel like lead, you feel lightheaded, dizzy even.

because whatever you had imagined last night was him in his sweater get-up, and it just now sinks in what a disgusting thing you were doing as you watch the rich purple of his chasuble sway alongside his stole — the very image of him in his priest robes (in Lent season too, not to mention) — meant to deter you from more thoughts, only fed your desires.

geto suguru made being a pastor look so natural, and attractive, that it was almost criminal.

“good morning, brothers and sisters, how are we all doing this morning?” there’s a few murmurs around, but geto doesn’t falter, instead pressing on with his very convincing, beautiful speech; as does he with the rest of the mass. he conducts himself with as much professionalism as he can, handling the Eucharist with proper hands, giving a sermon whilst giving you too many eyes, distributing Holy Communion with a gentle, accepting smile; your skin burnt when he handed you the body of Christ, a soft inaudible “amen” hanging off your lips.

father geto was all the talk after, some hanging around to catch a minute of geto’s time if they could and you were no different, purposely looping your arm through your mother’s and slowly down your pace.

“goin’ out for a smoke.” your father gruffly tells the three of you, two of which understands better. your newborn simply cuddles deeper into your mother’s breast, humming softly into the nap.

“’kay.” it was opportunistic, now, as your eyes flit around the place to find geto talking to two older ladies. he’s politely bent down to reach their heights better, chasuble now removed and simply in his alb, one patting his shoulder and the other giggling. you think you imagine it but his eyes dart over to you for a moment and then off to the other parishioners.

“how are you two lovely ladies doing?” you hear him before you see him and the voice startles you a little, jumping back from brushing your baby brother’s almost non-existent hair.

“fine.” it comes out kurt and abrupt and you burn when your mother nudges you like yesterday.

“think what she means is that we’re perfectly fine. how was your first mass?”

father geto looks around the church, recalls the altar boys, ingrains each church-goer into his head, “i hope the congregation likes me.”

“oh, nonsense! i’m sure they do,” your mother reassures. she was always good like that, putting others before her and making sure they see the best in themselves, “that was a very riveting sermon you delivered.”

“yeah—! yeah, i . . really enjoyed it, father geto.”

a small smile tugs at the corners of his mouth, “did you now?”

you nod, and he continues, “you enjoyed me telling you that sin was revolting?”

when he phrases it like that . . you swallow, “isn’t that what God’s whole schtick is?”

and that makes father geto laugh, because for such an innocent flower like you, you make it sound like you were forced to go to church and made to learn the basis of why God exists and now you just don’t know what to do with it. it’s common for people at their university age where they’re exposed to more views and mindsets, to question the religion you were born in and think about what it meant to be tied to a god you didn’t even really know existed, and when that happens, Christianity turns stagnant and boring.

“yes, pretty much, miss (y/n), but His schtick also involves forgiving anyone who has sinned against Him. after all, that’s what He died on the cross for.”

“y . . yeah, i know, father geto.”

you only realise now his purple chasuble matches his eyes, eyes that swirl with the colours of amethyst. they’re much brighter in the parish lighting, and they hold your stare much longer than yesterday. there’s the tugging feeling at your stomach again that goes right down to your centre and it throbs; your eyes flutter and blink to get you out of your head.

“good that you know . . of course, it’s not an invitation to sin. self-restraint and chastity still exists,” you hate how he puts an emphasis on the latter word, because he could be referring to anything, “but we need not be worried for our lives. we only need to pray and repent in prayer, and God will have mercy on us.”

but well, if God didn’t want you to sin, how then can he explain creating such an attractive person? if God valued his followers’ self control, why did he have to plant such lewd, inappropriate thoughts of his preacher in your head?

father geto could probably see your dilemma with how hard he was staring at you, and he only makes it worse by putting his larger hand on your left shoulder. it descends deeper to your upper arm and the skin there ignites—

“i hope you liked the chocolate cake.”

you manage a small smile, “haven’t had the chance to try it, sorry, father.”

“don’t apologise.” you forget your mother and baby brother is even beside you with how he talks to you. you’d love to be on his chest, hearing the deep rumbling of his voice or even have his hands be somewhere else but your arm. you don’t know how simply talking to you has got him doing everything in his power to restrain himself; not even a prayer from God could help.

“The mind is its own place, and in it self / Can make a Heav'n of Hell, a Hell of Heav'n.”

what you don’t know, either, that the hand on your shoulder was between his legs just last afternoon, trying so hard not to sneak under his cassock. he could barely keep his moans in, palming his bulge from above his robes at the mere thought of you. no touching means less sin, right? he comes to that pathetic conclusion easily, so all he does is bury himself in the outhouse after distributing his cakes, hips positioned over his pillow and he grinds.

the feeling for father geto was so archaic, been so long since he’s given up his life to God right after graduating university. all the carefree times that he’s experienced — drinking in dorms, going to parties, getting some nice quick fucks in between exams — were going to stop for good. but that doesn’t mean he stopped lusting.

lust. one of the seven deadly sins, a weak point for father geto’s journey as a pastor. it’s obvious now too that he hasn’t really left his older ways, bucking his hips into the fabric of his pillow. he thinks of you, your sweet little eyes and your cute outfit at home, he thinks of your face twisted into pleasure as he’s positioned between your legs.

father geto twitches, friction against the underside of his cock feeling so good after years and years of holding back — with a pretty face to think of, too. his hips ruts in short thrusts, desperate for that high and he chokes on a moan imagining your sweet voice begging to cum. and so does he, shooting such a large, hot load into his underwear that even his cassock is stained with his cum. but unlike you, he’s already thinking of his next round — if he’s doomed to die by lust, then might as well go all the way.

father geto spares a glance towards the door just to be safe before flipping over on his back, and pulls his robes above his lower half. the sight is dirty, underwear painted a darker colour and cum sticking to every part of the fabric. once he wraps a hand around his cock, geto is gone, pumping it so fast he might have gotten a burn along his length but it’s all rewarded by the second quick orgasm he reaches — spurting ribbons of cum all over his holy garments.

it’s why he didn’t have time to write a proper sermon for the morning mass. he was up all night, stroking himself — just, from the thought of you.

it was father geto’s turn to have uneven breaths as you asked if he was okay, hand on your shoulder shaking. but the visions of last night is overtaken quickly by his need to impress the other parishioners, and so he gives you a tense smile.

“enjoy the cake.” it sounded like an innuendo if you’ve ever heard one, but you mutter a soft thank you, before heading off back home with your family. that contact with your shoulder is all you can think of, giddy at the warmth of his hand and eyes.

“baby, could you open the door for me?” your mother calls out to you, hastily wiping her hands on her apron and abandoning the kitchen to tend to your crying baby brother.

“ok, mummy!” the doorbell’s been rung twice now, jogging a little to the door to prevent the person from waiting. you didn’t think to look through the peephole, a tight-knit (conservative) community made you trust anyone, opening the door to find father geto standing in front of you.

“o-oh. hi, father . .?”

he was dressed in his roman collar, a black shirt with a white strip around the neck and some black jeans. it wasn’t as casual as the first day, and it still held an ode to God even on a weekday.

“hi, (y/n).”

“ohhh! it’s father geto, come, come!” your mother bellows throughout the house, baby brother on her hip as she bounces him to get him to stop wailing. “are you hungry already?”

geto displays a meek smile, “a little, mrs (l/n), since you mentioned how big of a feast you were cooking.”

your mouth drops in recognition; was that why she was so preoccupied for the whole day? doing the maximum in the kitchen not just because it was for your father’s recent promotion at his job, but also for dinner with father geto.

“you’re having . . dinner with us.” it’s more of a statement to yourself than a question to the priest, but he still catches on and assists you by closing the door himself, and taking off his shoes. already, he looks part of the family, looking like a hard-working husband coming back from his job to you. instead, he’s answered the vocation of priesthood, and not matrimony.

“it looks like i am.” it’s such a sly comment, like he already knew the effect he had on everyone. this sucking up was just to get every church-goer to like him more, and it’s working.

geto is charming at the dinner table as he is at the parish, cracking jokes that make both your parents and you laugh, talking about his university life and telling a myriad of stories that he’s gone through.

“what did you major in in university, father?” it felt such a weird question, especially with an honorific attached to something that you were doing at the moment — it felt out of place that someone so close to your age was already pursuing a lifetime commitment of serving God.

“my studies focused mostly on philosophy and theology. i minored in linguistics.” there’s a chorus of ooh’s that echo throughout the table, cleaning up the last bit of food on his plate before he continued. “i’m currently going more in depth for latin, which is a stunning language, beyond those who say it’s dead and should stay dead.”

that only makes him hotter, and you cross your legs beside him, looking at him from the corner of your eye at you play with the last meatball on your plate. the sauce leaves a trail of red from the tomato, somehow mirroring the murder of your old self — or what you thought it was. it was more of a knife wound, a cowardly stab in the arm.

that dinner with father geto only deepened your sense of guilt.

it was the way the priest was quick to stand just as your mother does, offering to help with cleaning up the dinner table. even when she brushes him off, he insisted, answering for her when he only silently takes the plates to the back. all your mom does is shake her head with a smile, letting you help as well. your father just watches curiously, entertaining the baby with his canned alcohol.

“i’m embarrassed i can’t fight back against you well enough to stop ya from cleaning up at my own house,” your mother confesses, already having used her last breath to tell him to not help with the dishes as well. you scrub at a stain on geto’s plate over and over, a stubborn one at that until you finally are able to get it out. it still leaves a faint red glow, though.

“it’s nothing, really, mrs (l/n), i’m happy to help whenever.” father geto’s eyes rake over your figure as you clean alongside your mother, heel bouncing up and down; to non-existent music or in impatience he wasn’t sure.

she just takes the soapy plate from your hands with a laugh, “c’mon, it’s okay, my dear. go entertain father geto.”

it was the way his courtesy shined through when he doesn’t enter your room until he has gotten verbal confirmation from you, guiding him in with a uneasy hand as he looked around your quaint little space. it was filled with photos, some plants, tons of research papers and a messy table to match, but all he did was reassure you. you take note of his flowing hair and the laid back hairstyle he liked to don when it wasn’t for mass.

“how is university treating you?” you’re stuck on being completely honest and lying with every answer, but father geto has a face that makes it difficult to lie to.

“it’s . . alright, i guess,” you settle on your bed, crossing your legs and hoping he wouldn’t pick up any of your essays. thinking is manifesting, though, and his hands naturally go for the paper with the many red markings on the front page.

“Paradise Lost? by Milton?” ah. that paper. you shoot up from the sheets before he can read it, because frankly your thesis in that paper was weak and wasn’t well supported, but you still believed it deeply. you were just having a little bit of trouble straying from your reverence for God. you only manage to clutch the top of your paper, but geto is adamant on reading it, piqued by genuine curiosity.

“the retelling of Milton’s Paradise Lost humanises the experience of Satan’s (or Lucifer’s) fall from glory . .” he trails off, reading over your evidences and analysis. you feel like you’re being read like an open book, laid out bare for vultures to pick at and for God to enumerate your sins until you felt no shame.

with his head still tilted down, father geto has to look up through his lashes and bangs, seemingly making you cower more and more in your spot as the unsolicited advice for your essay dies down on his tongue. the size of his hands has you hypnotised, and he decides it’s against his own values to give feedback about a text he so childishly brushed off when he was in university, even if he had to read it to complete four years in the seminary. geto places a hand upon yours and the heat is dizzying; you can’t help but think if he was just normal person, instead, holding your hand like this.

it was the way he let you explain yourself a little better through your own words. it was a premature essay, anyway, made to test out your close reading and citation skills. but he found your interpretation of Milton’s poem to be much more insightful than he expected it to be — you think maybe, your understanding of the text grows the more you learn about your body, how you like to be pleasured; you feel like Lucifer.

“i . . don’t necessarily think you are born into evil. it’s multi-faceted and loaded, this question. God our Father would do anything but create evil willingly, it’s just unfortunate that the people that bring up their offspring contribute to the shaping of their identity and outcome.”

“then, how . .” your lips twist as you think of a way to word the question, “how would that justify evil existing? wouldn’t the fact that evil is developed somehow meant that God created evil in some shape or form, in the first place?”

father geto rushes to answer but—

“why did he have to create the serpent that tempted Eve in the first place? couldn’t he have just left them alone in Eden?”

“...there to dwell / In adamantine chains and penal fire / Who durst defy th' Omnipotent to arms.”

you frown, not expecting the other to answer but instead just wallowing in your thoughts. you never thought the talk with father geto would turn into some philosophy lesson, but the more you chatted with him on the bed, the more the conversation seemed to steer that way.

your own faith wavers in the night, a quietness settling over the two of you like a cloak of stars. the mass of each star weighs heavily with your questions up in the air until you faintly hear his answer.

“i don’t . . know, miss (y/n).”

“ah! no no— sorry to dump everything on you, father geto,” you scratch the back of your head, “it was just passing thoughts. i’ve never thought to think of this before.”

it was morbid, it was macabre. it was like looking over and seeing a skeleton in your place instead of flesh and skin and yet each question after question ignites something in him that no one has excited before. he can already feel lust influencing the other six, pumping through his veins at a life void of God, void of religion, a free place to think of the omnipotence of a higher being that no one was sure really existed.

“it’s okay . . it’s natural to ask. it’s natural to inquire. God,” he nods like he was in a trance; the word feels weird on his tongue, “God would want this.”

that night you did anything but sin, clutching the essay between your hands and digging your knees into the floor with elbows on your bed until they ached and you prayed. you wished blessings on your family, you wished blessings on the parishioners, you wished blessings on father geto and you wished eternal damnation on yourself.

there’s a heavy pull on your heart when you go to sleep a few minutes after and the dream you have of your body turning to soot and burning with each feet into flames makes you crave salvation all the more — like all a bad dream, it will be fine as long as you pray, and pray, and pray.

but the flesh desires what the heart denies: the more you ‘hang’ with father geto (by God, he was perfectly okay with that word when you let it slip to your mother. he merely throws up a peace sign in a ‘cool’ way and then immediately cringes, but it makes you laugh), the more you find yourself attracted to his morals, to his ideals, to the natural way in which he exists. he could speak for hours on end, voice sounding like birdsong and a chilling breeze all at the same time.

his voice did wonders in your head, as well, coaxing you into betraying your own code; and you betray it easily. that phantasmic voice leaving you to remove your top and pinching your nipples as soft little moans leave your mouth. the imaginary sway of his crucifix above your face while you harshly abuse your clit and dip a finger into you for the first time. the feeling is so foreign and weird that you shamelessly think of the slight lilt of his voice helping you: “it’ll feel better soon, (y/n). c’mon, finger your pussy for father geto.”

father geto had a natural talent for talking and preaching. that downturn of tone like hitting a dead-end when he holds a point above your head (“but”) and then resolves it into perfect cadence like chords ending a phrase when he proposes a solution (“God will take care of everything”). he does it so much you think he’s rather convincing himself more than he’s convincing you, though.

“perhaps this parable that Jesus uses tells us rather to look within ourselves, to look within the vineyard that is us. the owner have done everything: kept the roots tied so it would not be trampled, making sure they get all the sunlight and water it needs, yet . .” he pauses a little, looking at the almost full parish now that he’s won over the hearts of your town. his eyes flit down to you at the second pew, shooting you a quick smile.

“and yet he yields sour grapes. we pray, we act civil and diplomatic, we are giving, but are you truly doing it for the glory of God? is that maybe why we only get the sour grapes — not satisfied with the ‘thank you’ after doing a favour or silence from God after praying daily?”

geto looks over the last bits of the scribbled sermon, a little more coherent than last week, but still done with thoughts of you. there’s multiple smudges of his words that he has to squint and stutter a bit, caused by the frantic cleaning of his cum upon the paper.

“we all . . naturally expect things back, but to be Christian, to be a follower of Christ, we would have to abandon all thoughts of that.” father geto’s mind wanders to last night as his eyes look for you again. “we would need to be generous, to be kind without needing anything in return.”

father geto integrates into the church easily, shown in how his sermons capture the hearts of many. albeit, they never really take in the true meanings of the preachings he gives, but it’s enough for geto if they nod and mutter amen like fools in mass; whatever they do out of it is out of his hands.

but along the many preachings he does, there is one subject he fears approaching: lust, the one thing that threatens the downfall of his vocation and yet he cannot get enough of it. each walk and meeting with you only heightens his desire, makes his cock throb beneath his robes. each sunday he wishes he could split his soul in half — one as the confessor and one as the confessing — and repent in the confessional box.

“today’s gospel from Mark, chapter 6 talks about lust, briefly.” there’s a shake in his voice, eyes now scrambling over the congregation to find you in a much more revealing top contrasting with the out-of-place cardigan you have on. he’s sure it was mrs (l/n) that had made you put that on before you left the house; the house where he’s memorised the placement of your shoe rack and how your door creaks when it’s opened too quickly. geto is so fucked.

geto clears his throat before continuing, seeing you adjust your body for a moment, “King Herod is tempted by his flesh when he sees one of Herodias’ daughters dancing, so much so that she tempts him to commit murder. a clear beheading, just from giving into her body, and when she asks of him, he delivers like a dog. this calls us to truly think of the desires that we possess. they need not be sexual,” soft whispers emerge, a taboo subject, “they can also be related to money, to power.”

“lust for more things turns into greed when we act on that initial lust,” geto is sweating by now. he pulls lightly on his collar when you press your arms together in retaliation and he has to look away from the way your tits perk up so perfectly.

you had to know what you were doing, surely. partially — you were feeling cold, but you stifle a smile when you realise how geto’s eyes linger a little longer on you, or rather your chest, before he coughs and continues,

“when we are driven so terribly by the feeling that we abandon all morals just to please this person, thing on earth is when we tread into dangerous territory. no earthly possession must make you feel this way,”

the irony settles in his bones after he says it and his dick twitches at the thought of having you under the podium right now, sticking his fat cock down your throat while you struggle to keep the gagging noises to a minimum.

“no matter . .” a gulp, “how rewarding the aftermath must be.”

father geto knows you both are braving the edge of God’s merry kingdom. it is just a matter of who falls first.

“your place is in the kingdom of God, meant to fulfil eternal life with Jesus and the Lord which is what we all should be keeping in mind and working towards, ignoring all the distractions that will soon fade and die off.”

geto coughs again in the mic and breaths shakily, finally tearing his eyes away from you before he concludes the sermon and eases into the Offertory and Eucharist. he buries himself so deep in the procession in order to get you out of his mind, and it’s shown in the haste in which he carries the mass. it feels like he rushes so much that even the day outside follows too, because evening seems to arrive earlier than usual.

the sun sets outside, illuminating the altar. it taunts you like reminding you of the beauty of your faith; it deepens the need developing in your core.

“body of Christ.” you can faintly hear it being repeated over and over at the front, just a few steps away from your turn and you wish you weren’t standing behind your dad’s hulking figure so you could actually prepare yourself for father geto. you’re greeted with his cascading hair tied up into a bun and the cup containing Jesus’ body, gold and shining. you see your stretched reflection before your eyes snap back to the pastor in front and you will your hands not to hail routine.

instead, you stick out your tongue for the father to put the communion on and you take in the little panic of his hands and the choked sentence of body of Christ. his eyes drift down to your pink tongue, to the small twitch it does when he places the host on it and he cannot wait for you to get out of his sight, lest he be overtaken by the sin he particularly preached about just minutes ago.

“any test to study for tonight, darling?” your mother asks after dinner, meaning to ask after seeing you be so fidgety like you needed to be somewhere.

“uh . . no, not exactly, but i do have something i need to do.”

“oh! what is it, sweetie?” she doesn’t read your expressions, you mannerisms, so you were safe from that, but you willed your voice to not break. your body is on fire, you needed to quell your needs, now.

“just— i promised father geto i would meet him later for a confession, since he’s so busy, he could only propose a late timing,” no, you didn’t. either way, you give a reason, explain yourself before she can speculate, works every time.

“oh, okay . .” she trails off, seemingly unaffected, “just don’t get home too late, alright, darling?”

you nod even though she’s too focused on the dishes, pressing a hand to her back in thanks and she carries on, carefree, while you sprint to your room. lock the door, get your phone out.

“ . . ings turns into greed when we act on that initial lust . .” the words recorded just hours ago leave the phone speakers on a low volume, already lighting a flame in your pussy when your hand brushes over the microphone and he stops at the same time, “when we are terribly dri . .”

you sigh loudly when your hand starts to make its way down to your centre, rubbing slightly to the sound of his voice. your clit is just begging to be touched, begging for your inexperienced hands flicking your nub in every which way. impatient, your hands dip into your cunt and your jaw drops open at the intrusion of your fingers, just as your eyes widen and your imagination has never worked as well as it does now.

you can see geto’s amethyst eyes boring into yours, you can see his hips fucking into yours and yet it doesn’t give you the same kick as you think it would — you’re fucking yourself with your fingers even faster, circles on your clit increasing in speed and messiness and you smear your juices all around.

“father— father geto—” it was pathetic, the way you moaned for a man of God, but the feeling of your cunt clenching around what you wished was his dick was too good, the coil in your stomach still feeling rather uncomfortable but welcoming and you’re unravelling with a silent scream soon, back arching off the sheets.

“s . . suguru, f-fuck,” the swear word feels weird on your lips, as with his first name, but the trembling of your virgin body is so delicious that you just keep rubbing and rubbing, taking so long to come down from your high as your pants get heavier and heavier. and then his face starts to fade off, eyes turning into lilac air and you’re glancing towards the crumpled essay on your bed with guilt festering in your chest.

“ . . mptations of the flesh are childish, are temporary. they lead you to do foolish things that have no place in the kingdom of God. we may repent and put it past us but the memories that our tainted bodies possess, they remember the sinful things that you did.” the recording of father geto dies out as with his powerful conclusion, speaking so loudly into the mic that it screeches with feedback, you remember. you don’t even know where the guilt builds up from, in your torso and your heart, despite questioning the faith you were in for all your life.

if God did not want us to sin, why did he create temptations and ask us to pray for forgiveness?

you roll over and remove your fingers with a small whine, taking up your phone and opening up the contact with father geto hesitantly. it was meant to be a strictly professional exchange like the conversations he’d had with many other parishioners: updates on the church, changes in mass timings, but your chat was filled with questions from you and answers from him. you didn’t dare ask him anything out of the faith.

[9:37 pm, delivered]: uhm. father geto? are you there?

oh god, it’s you. the you who on the second walk around the town exchanged numbers with him because he found your thoughts so intriguing.

[9:39 pm, read]: Yes, Miss (Y/N). What is it?

you take a deep breath. better to ask for that confession, you couldn’t risk your mother asking about it tomorrow.

[9:40 pm, delivered]: is it alright to have

[9:41 pm, delivered]: can i come over to the church, for a bit

father geto straights up in the rectory, getting closer to the socket where his phone was charging and hovers over the screen. his hands are clammy when typing a response and he manages it in about three minutes.

[9:44 pm, read]: Of course, my dear. The doors of the church are open for the congregation at any time.

bidding goodbye to your mother, you stay on the lit path to the church and you’re bathing in anticipation, too excited to see father geto that you bump into a dark shadow. almost resembling a hard wall, hands emerge from its sides to clutch at your biceps.

“miss (y/n), what is it? what has gotten you up so late at night?” if he was still in university, he would’ve laughed at how he asked that question. hundreds of texts of u up? that mimic the nature of the question right now.

“i was hoping . .” you ignore the tingly feeling of the way in which his hands leave goosebumps along your biceps and then to your forearms. finally, they clutch your hands between his, meant to be like a warm hug but instead is like fire, licking at your fingers and wrist like you’re at the stake. “i was hoping that i could, request you for a confession?”

the priest across you swallows with a nod, swiftly putting a hand across your back to lead you to the booth. you both could’ve done it perfectly fine in the pews, sitting across each other. “the confessional is where we will feel the strongest compulsion of Christ. come,” he answers your question before you can ask it, “take your place on the kneeler behind the curtains.”

father geto showers in the same sea of anticipation when he makes sure you’re okay before heading over to his side of the confessional. he’s imagined this scene over and over — you on the pew kneeler, breath warming the velvet curtains — he cannot help the bulge that forms.

the first words he speak behind the curtain shock you, voice sounding so close yet so muffled and distant.

“come, now, (y/n), make the Sign of the Cross with me.”

Father, Son and Holy Spirit

upon your head, chest and shoulders you do it, taking a deep breath before you start. “bless me, father, for i have sinned. it has been . . about five years since my last confession.”

geto nods, the soft carry of your voice in the late night having an effect on the priest. the hold he has on the crucifix of the rosary is so tight it makes an indent on his skin, the only thing on mortal flesh to keep him from falling.

“What though the field be lost? All is not lost; the unconquerable will, And study of revenge, immortal hate, And courage never to submit or yield.”

your thighs rub together, hot breath sending chills down your clutched hands and down your arm as you ponder over the things you’ve done — “i’ve . . lied to my mother at times, to my friends when they ask me where i’m from. i have stolen money for my own needs, n-not— that high of an amount but um . . still a fair amount.”

“what did you need to buy, sweetheart?”

the name surprises you, but you simply ignore it. “i wanted new clothes — was all the rave at uni when the girls wore miniskirts and little tops. unfortunately it didn’t suit me.”

geto swears under his breath when the image of you in such skimpy clothing infiltrate his thoughts. his curiosity overtakes him; overwhelmed with emotion, he never had the chance to see what you were wearing before he pulls back the curtains and hopes your eyes are closed and they are: pulled tight with quivering eyebrows. there, like a sinning Christian is you in a thin camisole, cleavage showing beneath your arms. he peers lower, gasps softly to himself when you’re wearing a skirt.

“father? father, what’s wrong?” you think you hear the swift swoosh and the rings of the miniature curtain clatter.

“n—nothing is wrong, miss (y/n). are there any other sins you want to confess?”

you swallow, “i . . i’ve wished misfortune on my father.”

not the sin he was hoping for but he wasn’t surprised; his head moves in understanding. he had seen your father — merely a ghost in the house and hardly contributing to fostering the family. it goes against what Mary and Joseph stands for as the Holy Family, but father geto has seen a lot of absent fathers and incompetency to truly be taken aback anymore.

“i’ve also . . i’m not sure whether to tell you this, father geto.”

your breaths were all you could hear in the silence of the church, an eerie quietness settling as if the critters and animals of the earth strived to listen to your ultimate sin, too. Beelzebub, Asmodeus, possibly even Lucifer himself clawed themselves up from hell to eavesdrop.

“of course you can, my dear.” the wind through the wooden confessional box sounds like the hisses of the three demons, like they have had holy water sprayed on them from the mere sounding of his voice; but they look hopefully for a server of Christ to fall exactly like they did.

“it’s, related to my body, father. i,” gulping, you continue with a prompt from the other, “i’ve had this growing need, like, one has when they’re hungry. they have the need to fill their stomachs. or— or a sudden pain you have to massage yourself through, like a cramp in the arm of sorts.”

“well . . is it your torso or your arm?”

“it’s . .” you spare a glance towards your centre under your very, very short skirt, the familiar pulsing of your clit turning more and more prominent. “it’s related to my pussy, father.”

you hear a choke from the other side, and then you realise your choice of words.

“ah— m-my bad! i meant my . . vagina, father geto.”

“no— no u-uhm, the previous term was fine. could you describe what you did? how far did you go so i c-can . . give you the appropriate penance?”

behind the curtains, geto have already started palming his bulge, massaging the ache in his length that still continues to grow and harden. the way you describe is so terribly innocent and unknowing, a deepening urge to corrupt you running through his veins.

“i played with um— my breasts, first. i pulled up my top and felt around my nipples, but i got impatient and . .” geto hangs on to every word of yours, shifting to get his robes out of the way. it was just like the first night: his underwear stained with so much pre-cum it’s probably changed the colour of the garment. he peels it away and the lack of restraint leaves him sighing softly while you ramble on—

“i tried playing with that . . thing between my legs.” you recall the quick google search from that first night, “i played with my clit, father.”

geto stifles a groan into his hand just as he starts to stroke himself softly. “y . . yeah, and?”

“i tried to um . . fit my finger in. it was uncomfortable, at first,” you cannot ignore the pull of your core; your hand shimmies past the clasped hands and down to your skirt. you have no panties to swipe to the side: you came here without any. your finger rubs gently at the throbbing bundle of nerves, a soft whine leaving your lips before you remember you’re in the midst of a confession.

“but i . . i got it into my pussy soon enough. and then i put in another finger.” there was a more audible grunt from the other side, the confessional weirdly heating up immensely as you follow your confession: two fingers easily glide in from just how wet you were.

“when?” there’s a strain in father geto’s voice when he asks it, maybe because he was trying so hard to keep quiet. his jaw is locked as he pumps his cock slowly because his tip is leaking so much that even a simple movement would give him away.

“w-wha—?”

“w-when did you first start . . touching your pussy, (y/n)?” hearing a priest say such a lewd word makes you clench around your fingers.

“after you came to deliver t-that chocolate cake . . father geto.”

“f-fuck—” geto squeezes his eyes shut and it’s like he’s a university student again losing his virginity for the first time by the hands of some random chick pumping him. the implied confession has him stroking faster; it was after that trip he made to your house, it was after seeing you stand at the door like a good little girl, it was because of him, right? right?

you snap back the curtains and your mouth waters at the scene: father geto hunching over the little window that separates the two of you and his head hung low; his cassock gathers around his hips and his cock— good Lord, his cock was so big, clutched tightly between his left hand. his tip was weeping, an angry red as it continued to push out globs of pre.

“f-father!” geto doesn’t seem to care, giving you a drunk and nonchalant glance as he continues to stroke his shaft. he knows it’s wrong, doing this in the house of the Lord but it feels so fucking good. “y-you—”

you’re at a loss for words, pointing to his exposed bottom, but even though you’re speaking out against him, you can’t help but follow his hand as it moves up and down like a spell. his eyes are simply pleading, hips bucking up and you would think he was a parishioner instead. shaking in the presence of God, in the presence of you—

you stick your hand past the squeezy window, drawing his interest and before you know it you’re blindly bumping into his erection. there, he silently grabs your hand, guiding it to his shaft. he uncomfortably leans down to look at your face, eyebrows still furrowed but your tongue stuck out and his dick twitches in your hand.

“s-shit, baby . .” geto swears under his breath, and again when you pull on his dick to the window. uncomfortably his body lightly slams against the partition, a soft thud coming from the booth as his head collides with the wood, “(y/n) . .”

he can’t see you, but he can hear you. “may i, father geto?”

you don’t wait for his answer, gauging mainly from the heavy breaths coming from above you. they really do need to change the confessional, too, because you can clearly hear every word he mumbles out from the holes in the partition.

“shiiit—” when you kitten lick his tip, collection the pre-cum that continues to leave his tip, and it feels better than his Rite of Ordination and when he finally got to host his first mass. it’s better than that prophetic dream he has of God calling him to serve Him and the churches in the city with church-goers of boring faces and predictable stories.

here was a rural place, a place where he never expected such a pretty girl to practice the Christian faith, only to falter in the presence of a pastor. he’s gotten such a cute little slut to corrupt. you start to bob your head slowly, unsure of what to do apart from putting his cock on your mouth. your teeth grazes his skin a little and he hisses.

“no teeth. suck in your cheeks,” he cannot see you but he wishes he can, and he knows you listen to his advice when he feels only the smooth glide of your mouth and he wishes it was your pussy that you fingered.

“going deeper, darling,” geto grunts when he pushes his cock past your mouth and into your throat, the sweet gag you do making him dig his forehead deeper into the uneven wooden partition. he can hear your struggling sounds, the muffled moans with his cock down your cavern. but he cannot go any longer without seeing you and reluctantly he pushes you off, still holding your hand and you seem to catch his drift soon enough.

you’re as eager as him, bouncing off the kneeler and leaving your side of the booth, and you’re opening the door to his. the reality of the situation fully sinks in, geto standing there with his cock dripping with your saliva and your camisole pulled down under your tits.

“oh . . baby,” geto coaxes you into him, under a little spell of his when you trail in a light as a feather. you don’t resist his hands pushing you down to your knees, and just like earlier, you’re sticking your tongue out and the priest looks at you from under hooded lids.

“did you touch yourself to me, little girl?” it comes out stronger than intended but you seem to like it, even when your answers are cut off by him slapping his tip on your tongue. it’s so heavy, his cock, and thick too that you can help but suckle on it when you get the opportunity.

“ever since that day, father geto.” you look drunk, swirling your tongue around the tip and continuing to talk, “i . . i imagine you above me and sometimes i dangle my crucifix thinkin’ it’s yours.”

a small laugh escapes the priest. “did you now?” it’s reminiscent of the time where you praise his sermon. his laugh is cut off as you continue to suck him off, hands still confused. he helps you by bringing your hands to the places you can’t reach and you follow like second nature. “dirty fucking slut, aren’t you?”

“i promise i didn’t know anything before this . . father.” you look up at him through your lashes, big doe eyes proving every last bit of your innocence. aht, partially. you did watch a video of this chick blowing her boyfriend, cumming with your own fingers in your throat, wishing it was geto’s cock in your mouth instead.

but having a real cock in your mouth? it was divine, better than the body of Christ in melting on your tongue. your ministrations speed up, the obscene noises of you gurgling reverberating in the wooden box late at night. it would be even worse at the altar where it would echo everywhere.

“y—yeah, baby, that’s it, that’s it . .” his eyes are shut tight, intoxicated on the way your warm mouth feels. you whine into his shaft, tears forming at the corners of your eyes from how deep he was in you.

“mmf— mmph!” your moans sends vibrations up his body, interrupted when geto thrusts his hips into your mouth suddenly and your nose meets with his pubes, eyes rolling back from the muskiness of his body. it smells like incense and sweat, filling your senses as he keeps you right up to his hilt.

“ohh . . fuckfuck fuucck—!” the father pulls you off to let you breathe, pleasantly surprised when you start pumping him violently, tongue stuck out again. there’s a hint of light from the outside that highlights the pinkness of your tongue and he’s never wanted to cum this badly before.

“i’m cumming— baby, baby, i’m g’nna c-cum—” there’s a long, drawn out whine from father geto upon feeling the warmth of your hands stroking his cock so obediently, resting his tip on your tongue where you’d willingly drink his cum like wine. geto shoots his load into your mouth and is the loudest he’s ever been; he doesn’t care who hears him, he doesn’t care if he gets transferred out tomorrow, all he wants to think about is you on your knees and your nipples hardened from confessing to him. he’d like to bet that your pussy was drooling too, hips bucking into the soft skin of your hands.

some of his cum gets onto your face and on your lips, and geto almost cums again when you use his tip to smear his seed around your face, sucking lightly on his tip.

“dirty girl . .” he pulls on your biceps to bring you up, and your lips meet instantaneously like you were meant to be separated for eternity, doomed only to meet for one day a year. it’s messy and sloppy, drool drips from your sides of your mouths as your lips merge together.

“was that your first kiss, baby?” father geto can tell by how you don‘t know how to follow his lead, teeth clashing and breathing uneven.

“am i that obvious?” you frown, feeling self-conscious, but geto is quick to reassure you.

“father geto’s going to teach you everything you need to know, alright?” he brings you in with a finger to your chin, hovers over your lips like a tease.

he teaches you everything you want to know and more, like how the front of the church looks like and how cold the marble of the altar feels against your back as he eats you out and the sensations are all too much for you. he teaches you that using God’s name in vain is alright when it comes to moaning out how good he makes you feel and how your penance is whatever he makes it out to be he teaches you how you can take not one, not two, but three fingers up your pussy.

they’re so much thicker than your own, one hand pushing on your shaking thighs to keep them open while his three fingers move in and out of you. you’re leaking so much, your virgin cunt dripping like holy water down the white marble and onto the matching marble floor.

he teaches you his first name and he makes sure you say it.

“su—suguru . . god, r-right there—” he latches his mouth onto your clit, suckling and flicking his tongue impatiently because he just wants to see you cum. your legs stretch out to knock over a candelabra and the clatter of the metal against the ground is enough to wake up a whole village but you. don’t. care.

your hips grind onto his tongue, feeling the borderline painful stretch of his thick fingers in you but they reach all the right spots that you can’t find it in you to care.

“you taste so good—” geto spits onto your cunt and goes back to sucking on your clit, “pussy’s so fuckin’ sweet, holy fuck.” your noises come out of you non-stop as you bury your hands in his hair, finally knowing what you sound like in an unrestrictive space under the apse.

father geto teaches you how to take a cock up your cute, tight pussy, not bothering for a condom when basically all of your clothes have been discarded throughout the night. it’s almost midnight and your mother have fallen asleep on the couch, unaware her sweet, sweet daughter is losing her virginity in the place she was baptised, where she got her first communion.

the first push into your drenched cunt is painful, mushroom tip stretching you out slightly as you clutch tightly onto his forearm, brows knitted together at the girth of his cock.

“been wanting . . to fuck this pussy so bad, baby,” geto grunts it out, obsessed with how his length slowly disappears into you. he can feel each ridge of your gummy walls, hugging him so snugly that there’s several moans that leave his lips, “have you been— thinking ’bout this as much as i h-have?”

your jaw stretches beyond your limit when he eases himself inch by inch into you, thanking the hells below that your vision was finally coming true. above you there’s that same crucifix, sterling silver with amethyst stones embedded into the design, you remember, catching the light of the lone spotlight above the both of you. there’s a similar glint in father geto’s purple eyes.

“all the time, father—” you moan out, pulling him by his necklace to your lips that are more experienced now, each minute that passes is one more atom of your body turning black from the fire that licks at you from below the altar. you kiss the lips of your parish priest, whimpering slightly when his hips buck and you feel the stretch more clearly now.

“is this what Isaac felt when Abraham tried to bind him for a sacrifice on Moriah? helpless, confused, betrayed?”

geto lets out a hum, sucking hickeys into your neck and you think it’s a million times better than questioning a God that never showed himself, who never really had the intentions of the people in mind, who created sin to watch the downfall of men while he enjoys his time in his kingdom.

if this was what was meant by losing yourself to your devils, you would gladly shake hands with Lucifer and hope the warmth of the fire in hell would be a hug warmer than any hug you’ve received by people of the Christian faith.

“well, baby, do you feel helpless?” thrust “confused,” thrust “and betrayed?” thrust

he punctures each word with a snap of his hips and the pain gives way to pleasure and soon he’s already lost in the comfort of your pussy, hips starting a pace easily that emphasises just how wet you are. the echoes of your weeping cunt and the lewd slapping of his balls into your ass is like the bell ringing during mass, loud, resonating, it shakes your whole body.

“mmfuck . . helpless, m-maybe,” you whine out, legs wrapping around his back, “confused, n-not— suguruuu, yesyesyes!”

you try again, “n-not really. betrayed . .”

you feel like a sacrifice, but it was willing, of a confession that has led to this lewd showing of just how much the temptations of the flesh were insanely undeniable. there’s a murmur of i don’t think i can last much longer into your ear, cock driving into your tight pussy so harshly you’re hoping the small altar doesn’t move.

“b-betrayed, i think—” you squeal when father geto angles his hips up and it kisses your cervix just nicely, sending multiple chills down your body. your moans penetrate the holy air, hair splayed out like a painting and geto knows this is better than any Eucharist he’s ever tasted.

you clench around his fat cock, and he twitches, switching to short, pathetic thrusts into your pussy and he cries out your name as he cums deep in you, giving you all of his seed deep in your womb. your breath catches in your throat at the feeling of your first load, the warmth already hooking you in and you pull so hard on his hair he has no choice but to follow your hand.

you let him handle you deep into the night, taking you off the altar and pushing you up against it, entering you again and you brace yourself against the marble.

“s-sorry, sweetheart, you were saying?” he also wants to apologise that he hadn’t made you cum just yet, but your pussy’s so fucking heavenly he just has to be in you again.

“i-i feel a little betrayed,“ you sag over the altar, back arching into his hold. father geto is fixated on the movement of your ass fucking back onto him, “that a priest would break his m-marriage to God for me.”

“i thought they were supposed to be men of God,” you barely manage to form sentences. geto’s laugh at that startles you, as with the hand grabbing a fistful of your hair and pulling. payback. you love it, however, a sweet Christian girl turned into a slut, and the last bits of the thread unravels when father geto reaches around to rub your clit.

“’m gonna— cum, suguru—” you whine out, body turning to mush with how hard he rams into your pussy. by now there’s a ring of white around the base of his cock, your juices slowly starting to coat it, too and Lucifer succeeds at sin yet again.

you cannot blame Eve when the serpent is as beautiful and cunning as geto suguru, nor can you blame her when his thick cock just reaches so deep into you, tip kissing your sweet spots and his hand impatiently drawing messy circles on your bundle of nerves.

“that just makes it the best though, right?” geto breathlessly says, “a holy man fucking a virgin raw in a holy place where prayers are said.” your legs are spreading further and further, his sweaty body engulfs yours, you’re dizzy, “you’re too tempting, sweet girl. tempting enough for me to want to abandon priesthood just so i can be buried in this pussy for fucking eternity.”

and you cum, head and heart going a hundred miles per hour as your body trembles in his hold. “there we go, little slut, thereee we go . .” you can feel the chill of the sterling silver into your back and his smile before he orgasms a second time into your waiting pussy, a second, heavy load let go into your pussy. it’s so warm and filling, and you already want more, more, more.

lust for more things turns into greed when we act on that initial lust.

“aw,” father geto coos at your fucked out face, flipping you around to give you a sloppy kiss and forcing himself to his knees just to watch his cum drip out of you, “does she want more?”

“always, father.” you answer with a drunken smile, putting a leg on his shoulder. again, your finger hooks around his crucifix, and you drag the priest down deeper into hell, somewhere father geto would‘ve always ended up.

somewhere where he would renounce his priesthood and worship something, and someone: you.

“Better to reign in Hell, then serve in Heav'n.”

a/n: LOOOONG MAN WHAT THE FUCK IS THIS. also i put the author’s note at the bottom this time bc i wanted to format of the fic to look the best without my goofy words ruining it! hope you guys liked it :) / tagging @crysugu @omgeto @kazushawty @suguruplsr @hydrovillette @slttygeto @hyomagiri @jabamin

part two ✶

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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 2 months ago

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💚The Goblin Queen Welcomes You!💚

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cinnamonest · 5 months ago

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In desperate need of older reader content

:(((

//Big age gap with ambiguously aged teenage boys, cheating on NPC husband, dubcon (reader is kinda consenting for once lmao but the first time is questionable in how it begins)

I've had this modern AU idea rotting in my brain for AGES anon, I hesitated to make it but you’ve given me courage, bless you anon

Consider Xingqiu + Chongyun and the sweet older lady that lives in the neighborhood… a neglected housewife with a husband who’s always absent, always on “work trips” and being generally suspicious and never pays you any attention…

You have the typical boys-next-door of the neighborhood — well, they're not actually right next door, one lives a few houses down, the other in that fancy rich neighborhood adjacent to yours — but the two come around your house quite a lot. It's kind of sweet how you've gotten to watch them grow up, you remember when they were very little, running by your house with bikes or kites or whatever they were playing with, and watch them slowly get bigger and older, hear their distant voices chattering get deeper and lower over time.

Sometimes you wave, they wave back.

They come to recognize you. They pass by when you're doing yardwork. You exchange a hey, boys! with a mutually enthusiastic hi miss!, and occasionally, you tell them to be safe because it's supposed to rain soon or because it's getting dark, met with a don't worry, we will! reassurance of some kind.

They're so cute, so endearing. You go out of your way to say hi each time you see them.

Eventually, you finally have a direct, up-close interaction — it's a particularly hot day, you call out to them to ask if they want something cold to drink, and they gladly take you up on the offer.

They're so cute, you think. Teenagers now, bright-eyed and full of that youthful sort of excitement and bliss, not yet old enough to be worn down by the difficulties or mundaneness of life nor have a damper put on their overly-positive outlook on life and the world. You find yourself smiling as you ask them questions about school and what they like to do and their plans for the future and they respond gushing with visible excitement and energy.

And then, they swing by the next day, sheepishly making their way up to you to ask if you have any more. You laugh and smile and tell them of course.

The same thing happens the next day, and the next day. You go out of your way to get some teen-boy-approved type of snacks the next time you go grocery shopping, which end up rapidly disappearing from your fridge and pantry.

You learn them, their similarities and differences, their interests and strengths. Xingqiu is more the academic type, Chongyun is more involved in athletics. You listen to them excitedly ramble about the “important” things going on in their lives, high-school level drama and such, the sort that seems to be of a much greater significance and weight to kids their age, who have no frame of reference for anything more serious than that. You give exaggerated reactions of awe and pride when they boast about their achievements, and it does warm your heart to see that that always makes them more excited to keep going on about it.

With that, you develop a very… wholesome sort of relationship. They start coming by more often.

And more and more often. Nearly each day. It's a very strange situation, yet it just feels natural because you get accustomed to it — instead of going back to their own homes, they head to your place right after they're let out from school. You feed them (they're teenage boys, they're eating more in one sitting than you do in an entire day), talk to them, you've even helped with homework every now and then, for subjects you're knowledgeable in. They seem to really love coming over to your house, and, well, you're often very lonely, and you appreciate them as well.

The neighbors have all seen them going to your place each day, some of them jokingly ask how “your boys” are doing. It’s endearing, really, and always makes you smile.

You know it's not exactly normal, but at the same time, if they trust you and depend on you and cling to you so much, they must not have another source for that — from what they've said, both have very busy and/or somewhat emotionally distant parents, which makes you feel bad for them, tugs at your heart, makes you feel like you should be sure to be there for them and be available when they need you. Like you have a responsibility to be there.

Which leads to you taking on perhaps an even greater role of keeping tabs on them, being responsible for them. You even get a call from the school once when one gets sick, asking you to come pick him up, which he thanks you for repeatedly, but still doesn't seem to treat the matter as quite as unusual as you feel it is. Regardless, you find yourself taking him to your house to recover rather than his own, at his own request.

They're almost a little too comfortable, but it's more comical to you than anything — they reach a point where now, they just come sauntering into your house after school, backpacks dumped onto the floor and flopping onto your couch as if it were their own house. One time when you were home alone, you went out to get groceries, only to nearly have a heart attack when greeted with a hello! as soon as you stepped through your front door when you came back. Turns out they figured out you keep a spare key under the welcome mat… they help you put the groceries away, though. Such sweet boys.

Yes, they’re sweet, helpful, bright-eyed, energetic… even if sometimes, they get a little strange.

Nothing that isn't standard teen boy stuff, though, you tell yourself. You find evidence of their presence in oddly private areas of your home — your bedroom door hanging open when you're pretty sure you shut it earlier, an open drawer, missing clothes, so on and so on.

It's odd, but you don't exactly know how to really go about confronting them, the idea feels awkward and uncomfortable. Not to mention, doubt and paranoia cloud your reasoning — what if there's a perfectly legitimate reason, and then you ruin things by making false accusations? What if you're imagining it? You ultimately decide to try and shake off the creeping feeling of something being wrong.

Worst case scenario, they're being… weird. But teenage boys are like that, aren't they? Raging hormones and all. It's a little unpleasant, but you're sure they'll mature out of such behaviors, if that really is the case. It's nothing too serious.

And then they start getting touchy.

When they help you carry things in (so sweet of them, isn’t it?), you notice that over time, they grow comfortable with your arms and hands brushing against each other. They stand closer to you when leaning over to see what you’re making whenever you’re running around in the kitchen (of course, usually accompanied by asking if it's for them or if they can have some), shoulders bumping against yours. They scoot their chair much closer to yours when you’re helping them with their homework, eventually to where your thighs touch.

Waving goodbye when they go home at the end of the day turns into big hugs. Both of them do so in a way that you just can't shake the feeling of being somehow wrong. Xingqiu pulls your chest against his perhaps just a bit too firmly. Chongyun holds his hands lower down on your back than you feel comfortable with. But then they both flash you such sweet smiles and promise to see you later, and your momentary concerns feel trivial.

Your naive belief in their innocence begins to fall apart, though, because Chongyun is significantly less skilled at keeping up feigned ignorance.

The idea that you were being paranoid, or imagining things, quickly begins to fade from your mind when you notice how blatantly sheepish he begins to become as time goes by. He stops looking you in the eye, stammers and fidgets and squirms when trying to speak to you. As if feeling guilty, as if having done something wrong.

Xingqiu is much better at it — almost scarily so. If it were just him, you'd never notice a thing, and you’re not sure how to feel about that realization. You’re pretty sure he could do something right in front of you and then convince you you did it instead, with how flawlessly he can change his tone and expressions and answer questions in ways that not only fail to answer, but give the impression of an answer, then distract away to another topic before you can even think enough to realize what a non-answer the response he gives is.

You only caught onto it one time, and then when you started to think back, you realized how many times he’s done the exact same thing in the past, all without you ever realizing… those rich business families must have some kind of genetic predisposition to conversation manipulation. Still, it’s nothing malicious, he didn’t do anything wrong, you’re pretty sure at least… he just seems to steer away from anything having to do with the odd occurrences of things that go missing or were different from how you left them.

Still, it reaches a point where you really can’t delude yourself.

But it's nothing serious. It's not enough to warrant saying anything. That’s what you tell yourself.

Because if it were that serious, you’d have to say something. And if you say something, well, that’s… hard. Awkward. Difficult to summon the gall for, especially towards two young, innocent boys who have never done anything really bad to you, who have always been so helpful and sweet, who are just being the way boys that age are, right? It’s ultimately harmless.

You’d ruin things between you all, you’d hurt them. You can’t have that. They’re too precious. They keep you company, they help you out, you’ve gotten so used to their presence in your life, you can’t have that ruined. Thus, you say nothing. Yes, it’s all just normal, it’s no big deal. Soon enough they’ll start getting involved with girls their age anyway, and stop messing with you so much.

Except there's one more issue... that thing where they seem to really not like your husband.

The moment he comes up, they both take a negative attitude. Granted, one day you do end up more or less breaking down as you find yourself venting and lamenting your miserable marriage — how he’s never home, how he’s always doing suspicious things that hurt your heart, how he never treats you to anything, never remembers anniversaries or birthdays, never says anything nice to you… you only pause and start stammering apologies when you notice how quiet they both get, but they insist it’s fine, and follow up by muttering about how you deserve better… you smile and pat their heads.

You really meant the whole thing as mere venting, so it makes you feel bad when, seeing as your birthday falls very shortly after that conversation, they both get you things on said birthday. Chongyun’s is something he made himself, albeit on a very low budget, Xingqiu’s is the inverse, some piece of jewelry that’s the most expensive thing you’ve ever owned… and they remembered even when your husband didn’t. It makes you feel guilty, like maybe you baited them by inducing their pity, but they both seem so happy to give you something, and even when you say they didn’t have to do that, they insist they wanted to… maybe it’s alright, then. They were already sweet to you too, of course, but you notice that they give you compliments and such more frequently too.

Regardless, you notice that even before your complaining, they both sort of scowl when your husband is mentioned, even more so after you reveal the rocky state of your marriage. There’s an unmistakable resentment in some comments they make — you start talking about how you’re worried that you spent too much on groceries and will make him mad, to which you get a scoff and a ‘well who cares what he thinks?’, or, when you’re worried the house isn’t presentable enough for your husband coming home, you get a shrug and mutter, ‘he can just deal with it…’

Your husband doesn’t exactly care for them either. You mention it to him because you feel you should, although apparently neighbors already informed him of the matter. You get a few gruff comments about how bizarre and inappropriate it is that you’re letting two teen boys just sit around in your house. Every now and then, you get snapped at in irritation about a piece of a wrapper left on the sofa or a pencil left on the table, how it’s because you let those damn teenagers stay in your house, how you’re draining his hard-earned money on feeding them, so on and so on.

They only actually interact once, seeing as the man gets home so late each day that it’s usually long after both boys have left for the day, but one time their presence does overlap — it’s very awkward. You didn’t hear the car pull up to the house, so when he comes walking in, the two boys quickly get their things together and scurry out the door, all without exchanging a word, although the tension and glaring is palpable. You’re reminded that he tolerates you having them there, and that he had better not come home to find them in his house so late again. You nod your head — but you still let them stay fairly long each day… now they make no attempt to hide their disgust each time you mention your spouse.

Their increasing negativity towards him, their increasing affection towards you — there’s a sort of tension that builds over time. Every party involved feels it, you’re certain, one of those things where everyone knows what’s happening and no one acknowledges it out loud.

By the time it happens, they're so comfortable that it's practically nonchalant, and for you, well, somehow you don’t feel particularly surprised. It feels more like something you knew was going to happen, but maybe pretended in the forefront of your mind that you didn’t know, that it wasn’t inevitable.

Likewise, it happens so quickly that you barely register anything as it happens, it doesn’t sink in as real until it’s too late and you’re already too far into it.

You don’t remember, afterwards, exactly what you were doing — were you helping them with homework at the kitchen table, or were you all watching a movie on your couch beforehand? You’re not sure. You only remember feeling an unusual palpable energy in the air, them looking back and forth at each other as if to confirm to move ahead with some premeditated plan. You remember that it was Chongyun that initiated it, to some extent—

I— I mean, we wanted to, uh, talk to you about something, and, ah…

He seems to lose his words halfway through, and sort of pathetically looks over at the other, as if silently begging for help, which is met with a sigh and a few back and forth comments as you stare on in bewilderment — that ‘no, you were supposed to do that part,’ or ‘no, YOU were supposed to do that,’ so on and so forth, until they both seem to just give up on whatever the plan was and go for it instead.

That’s where it becomes a bit of a blur. You don’t remember which one grabbed you first, which one’s mouth met yours first.

You think you said a few things to deter them, obligatory statements of how I can’t, I’m married and the other standard lines you’re supposed to say because you have some sense of guilt and honor, don't you? You have to deny them the first time, it's only right.

And yet, you’re pretty sure your resistance didn’t last long.

The reality of it all doesn’t sink in until you’re at the point where you can no longer bring yourself to care, too lost in excitement and ecstasy and basking in the feeling of being so intensely desired, until you’re on your knees with one in your mouth and one from behind (although later, you can’t recall which was which at first — they switched up a few times, you’re pretty sure). You don’t even remember how many times they came inside you, only that you felt some vague alarm the first time, but stopped caring soon after, letting yourself be bent over your couch and put on your knees on the floor, letting your mind melt away, focusing only on pleasure and longing and, in the back of your mind, a twinge of guilt knowing that maybe you knew this was what they wanted all along.

Good thing your husband was on another one of his business trips. You’re pretty sure he’d be furious to know you took them upstairs and continued all night long on his own bed thereafter, eventually all falling asleep there too, with you sandwiched in between… only to wake up and go at it again the next morning. It’s Saturday, after all, they have to fill their time with something other than school.

You have different sets of issues, after that day. You’re not worried about their affections being inappropriate — you’ve long since accepted that, now you’re just a little worried about how they keep pressuring you to divorce and move in with one of them (Xingqiu reminds you his family is very very wealthy, this in turn upsets Chongyun, who insists he’s trying to ‘win you over’ which is ‘unfair’ to him). You don’t worry about your missing clothes or their touches, those are no longer an issue… now your biggest concern is keeping their voracious sex drives at bay, which it turns out you severely underestimated, and you have TWO to deal with on top of that, practically getting pounded and plowed at every opportunity.

Then you have to worry about how virile they probably are… you’re not on birth control, seeing as your husband has demanded you have a kid. He might get one, even if not how he expected… and then you have to worry about giving both boys equal affection, lest you hurt one’s feelings or make them jealous… and then you have to worry about your poor weary body, which can barely keep up with them…

And, of course, you worry about the inevitable, knowing that it’s only a matter of time before things fall apart, one way or another. A matter of time before they decide to ‘deal with’ your husband — you heard them use that exact verbiage muttering to themselves, only for them to go silent once they saw you. A matter of time before they do something, and you get the feeling that you're not going to like whatever something is.

Yes, you know things can’t stay in this limbo forever… and that worries you, no matter how much you try to put it off and pretend things are fine and tell yourself you’ll cross that bridge when you get to it, only to find the bridge is growing closer with each day. After-school threesomes on a limited schedule can only keep them content for so long, especially when they've already started to push the limits of how long they can stay, how many times they can go, insisting you can get one more round in before your husband comes home.

At least you’re pretty sure no one else knows. The neighbors still ask you how “your boys” are, and seem to do so with endearment, with no trace of any concern or outrage or disgust.

You haven’t changed your answer in all the time they’ve asked — you always smile and say they’re doing just great. Perhaps that’s even more true now than it was before.

#.cy #.xq #tfw you give teen boys pizza rolls and accidentally raise their affection meter too high

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skzdarlings · 2 years ago

Text

the same but different | the threesome series ; skz ; han/reader/felix

masterlist.

threesome series part 3/4.

You grew up with Felix and Jisung. Your definition of normal has always been unique, considering Felix is a faerie and magically connected to Jisung. So even though you are dating Jisung, when Felix tells you he needs to marry to keep up appearences in the faerie court, you see no reason to say no…

pairing: han jisung/reader/lee felix content info: sexual content. threesome. faerie au. this is an almost 16k word read. one day i will meet my maker and have to atone for that. warning for some ambiguous motivations plus general freaky faerie and supernatural stuff. felix and jisung have a magical connection, reader does not know the details but it seems they can physically feel each other's reactions and urges and they do a lot of the same things in an uncanny way. there is a 'consummation ritual' that involves being watched but reader is clever about it.

Autumnal flurries follow Han Jisung everywhere, little tornadoes of red-and-gold kicking up an elemental fuss wherever he steps. It might be a remnant of his time with the faerie folk, or maybe a coincidence, or maybe he is such a blustery font of chaos that he is simply kicking up wind storms on his own.

He totters into the café with his usual trail of leaves, much to the displeasure of the bus boy who follows with a broom. The wind gets restless at the window. It throws itself against the pane with a heavy, reverberating thunder as if nature is knocking in pursuit of Jisung’s attention. You watch a few pine cones hurl themselves at the glass before everything settles down on its own.

Jisung pays it no mind. He slides into the booth across from you, heaving a big dramatic breath.

“Good afternoon,” you say, amused with your boyfriend’s theatrics. They are as constant as his flurries.

“Yo, is it, ‘cause ah, HAHA—I’ve been having a day.” He thunks his head on the back of the booth and pretends to fall asleep. His round glasses skew with the loll of his head.

Jisung dressed up for today’s date. He is wearing a beige coat that flatters his warm complexion plus that cute checkered scarf you gave him last winter. You don’t mind his usual hoodies and caps as it always puts a swagger in his step, but you appreciate his effort even if it is a little random.

He lifts his head with another musical sigh, golden blonde hair fluttering from his breath. His big glasses make his dark eyes even bigger and you smile again.

“Hi,” you say sweetly.

He whimpers with more theatrical misery.

“You’re so beautiful,” he says like it is the most painful fact in the world. “Why are you so beautiful? And funny, and smart, and mine. If you weren’t gonna be ugly and horrible, the least you could have done is reject me. It wouldn’t have been so bad. I could have been a lonely suffering artist, hidden away in a basement, composing symphonies for the beautiful woman out of my league.”

“I think you just described the Phantom of the Opera,” you say.

“Even better.” Jisung sighs wistfully. “He lived in an underground sex dungeon, right? I don’t think he even paid rent.”

You laugh into your hot chocolate.

“What’s gotten into you?” you say. It’s a rhetorical question. Jisung is always a little silly.

Your playful boyfriend thumps his hands on the table and glares past you, out the window.

“Faeries,” he says brusquely. “And their stupid faerie bullshit. My life is a nightmare and an arthouse horror movie and no one has ever suffered more than me—oooh, is that a chocolate croissant?”

You slap his hand when he reaches for your pastry. He yelps like you chopped it off.

“Jisungie,” you say, lifting an eyebrow, “what do you mean faerie bullshit?”

He pouts spectacularly while unknotting his scarf. He speaks in a watery, despondent voice, very contrary to his usual goofiness, “What do you think I mean?”

This, it seems, is also rhetorical as you have no opportunity to answer. The bell jingles above the door and a little shiver moves down your spine.

Unlike Jisung, you have never been to the faerie realm, but you have a gift for recognizing a supernatural presence. Everything catches your eye as if they are sparkling fireflies, no matter their efforts to hide.

The courtly fae, the ones that look human, have a tendency to cast enchantments both literal and metaphorical, their impossible beauty captivating to any human eye. You are not immune to their gravitas, the way space seems to warp around them like earth is little more than gelatinous mire, but you can sense their other-worldliness before seeing them. This is most likely due to exposure. You did, after all, grow up with a faerie.

You look to the doorway.

Ah. Speaking of.

“Oh my god,” Jisung whines. “He said he’d give me time to tell you.” He steals your hot chocolate and takes a swig like it’s hard vodka.

“Tell me,” you repeat. “Tell me what?”

Though you are talking to Jisung, you cannot help but look over at his… his…

His Felix.

Felix smiles when he sees you. He scrunches his nose cutely and it makes his constellation of dark freckles dance on his sunny face.

The freckles have always been an intriguing part of his glamour – for his human-like appearance is a mask shrouding his true faerie form – because faeries typically regard such things as imperfections. Perhaps the freckles are residual from his time in the human realm, as Jisung’s flurries are the opposite.

Felix is unbelievably beautiful. He is wearing mortal clothes but he does not look truly human. There’s something in his movements, fluid and dance-like, sometimes too swift to perceive. His blonde hair catches the light with a perfect glow at every angle, his slender frame flawlessly draped in a black long-coat and a flattering black sweater. His lovely ringed fingers part the air with his little wave and his perfectly pink mouth curls up in a sweet smile. His dark eyes seem to sparkle.

He crosses the restaurant in a few strides, quicker than a human would. He smiles the whole time.

“Hello,” he says, his deep voice smooth as butter. Or maybe you’re the butter, his voice the knife, gliding right down the centre of you and settling low in your belly. It has always had that effect.

“Felix, hello,” you say in that quivery way you always greet him. You grew up with both Jisung and Felix but Felix flits off to the faerie world when it suits him, and every time he returns you find yourself awestruck by him, as if you had never truly seen him before.

Jisung smacks his head down on the surface of the table. You and Felix look at him, you with considerable more concern. Felix just draws his mouth into a flat line, neither smiling nor frowning, more like he anticipated his… his… his Jisung would behave this way.

“Is it okay if I sit?” Felix asks, pointing to the spot beside Jisung. Jisung is somewhat sprawled in the booth but this doesn’t seem to concern Felix. When you nod, he smiles, smooths out his coat, and simply bumps Jisung with his hip to squish himself into the booth.

Jisung whimpers again, resting his head on the wall and pouting at it.

“So,” Felix says. He folds his hands on the table and tips his head, looking at you. “How are you doing these days, hmm?”

Faeries are known for their decorum. It can turn sour very quickly, but it is imperative to adhere to rules of hospitality and general politeness.

It is still strange and unnerving to have a faerie prince plunk himself into your booth and smile at you so politely. Especially when you haven’t seen Felix in more than a year. A year and fifteen days, to be specific, because Jisung has counted them all. Jisung complains endlessly when Felix visits but he complains even more when he’s gone for too long.

You think Felix must have returned to the human realm a while ago. Jisung is usually friendly when he firsts sees him, but right now he is glaring.

“What?” Felix looks at Jisung. They cock their heads at each other, the same angle, same time.

It is always funny seeing them side-by-side. Singularly, they look nothing alike, perhaps because Felix has intentionally deviated his glamour from being identical. Jisung has a round face, cartoonishly cute at times, his build bulkier from his somewhat erratic workout schedule. Felix is all sharp lines with a pointed elegance to his features, though his presence fills what space his slender body does not. Their only similarity is their hair, similarly bouncy, alike in length, and identically shaded. Right now it is a matching blonde.

Despite their ample differences, there is an uncanny sameness to them. They move the same way, tip their heads at the same time, roll their eyes in tandem. They even take a breath at the same time. You are certain if you pressed a hand to each of their chests, you would find their hearts beating to the same steady cadence.

Felix was once a changeling. Faeries sometimes swap their infants for human ones, occasionally for fun, oftentimes when their offspring is sickly or malformed. Once a changeling swap has occurred, the faerie and human are inexorably linked to one another. If the human parents try to kill the faerie or let it die, it will also kill their child, so it is in their best interest to nurse the sickly baby and hope the faeries swap them back.

Felix was born too soon, a shrivelled little creature, third son of the autumn high prince’s third wife. His mother swapped him for Jisung, stealing the little mortal away in his infancy. Jisung’s mother was not a bewildered, simpering mortal, however. Her resilience and intelligence was part of the family’s initial allure, but it was also the downfall of the changeling operation. She ventured into the faerie realm and won back her son, plus the right to see the lonely faerie prince that had been so unceremoniously abandoned by his unloving family.

She returned to the mortal world with Jisung and Felix. The changeling prince spent his childhood bouncing between the human realm and the world of faerie. You grew up next door to Jisung and the three of you have been a tight-knit trio since before you can remember.

You love Felix just as much as you love Jisung, it’s just that… the faerie-ness complicates things. You aren’t sure Felix really loves you or Jisung in a way you understand. Even now, his enquiry after your well-being seems more like a necessary script than genuine question. He will be uneasy until you complete your side of the exchange.

“I’m good, Felix,” you say. “How are you?”

He smiles, freckles dancing. “Good,” he says. “Thank you.”

Felix cracks his neck and Jisung is compelled to do the same, though he looks irritated about it. The depth of their connection has always been ambiguous to you, but sometimes Jisung feels phantom aches and pains, urges that come out of nowhere and pester him like an itch until he satisfies them.

He seems impatient today, his glare not subsiding for a second.

“You said I could have time to tell her,” Jisung says.

“I gave you time,” Felix replies calmly.

“You gave me like five minutes, man!”

“It doesn’t take more than five minutes,” Felix says. He seems genuinely perplexed that Jisung would believe otherwise. He looks at Jisung with a head tilt that Jisung mirrors, then they both look at you. “Hi,” Felix says. “Will you marry me? See. That was less than five minutes. It was five syllables, actually. Well, I guess if you had asked it, you would have said, ‘Will you marry Felix,’ so it would have been six syllables, but that’s still less than five minutes, even if you streeeeetch it ouuuut—”

“I’m gonna stretch you out,” Jisung says, then plants his forehead in his palm. “That came out wrong.”

Felix does not plant his forehead in his palm but he does rest his chin in his hand.

“So,” he says to you, smiling. “Will you? Two syllables, by the way.”

“Shut up about the syllables, dude.”

“Wait,” you say, interrupting their inane blabber. If you leave them to it, Jisung and Felix will dance in verbal circles for hours and still not clarify anything. “Marry you? Why would I— Felix, you know Jisung and I— I don’t understand what’s—”

You love Jisung and Felix. You find them equally attractive, in their own way and as a complimentary pair. As much as you adore Jisung, you feel bereft when Felix is gone for a long time. Your crush on Felix was as inevitable as your romance with Jisung. Only where that relationship has long since solidified into a stable love, you and Felix have never done much more than hug.

Jisung and Felix, on the other hand, have shared their own intimacies. You caught them kissing back when you were teenagers. You got pouty rather than angry, viciously jealous of both of them at once. Jisung was too flustered to speak, mostly chirping like a frightened bird, while Felix just smiled and cheerily said, “Jisungie says we’re practicing.”

“Practicing?” you asked, hands on hips. “Practicing for what exactly?”

Felix frowned, looking confused, like it had never occurred to him to follow that line of questioning.

“For girls!” Jisung exclaimed.

Felix snapped his fingers and nodded. “Right,” he said. “Girls. That was it. Wait.” He looked confused again and pointed to you. “Isn’t she a girl?”

“She doesn’t count,” Jisung said, getting redder by the second. You threw a shoe at him and stormed out of the house.

That was a long time ago. That momentary flicker of suggestion was the only time Felix brought up potentially kissing you. Even then, it seemed less desirous than pragmatic.

And now, for some reason, he is asking you to marry him.

“Oh my god, man, maybe if you used more than five syllables, she would get what’s going on,” Jisung says. His gaze softens when he looks at you. He reaches across the table to take your hand, though it takes you a second to respond. Your fingers are frozen stiff around your mug. “Baby,” he says in a soft, apologetic voice, “I know it sounds a bit strange, but I promise I can explain.”

“I have to get married,” Felix interrupts, ignoring when Jisung scowls at him. “I think it’s just for, uhhh, appearances, basically. My brother Chan just became high prince and I’m the only one of my mum’s kids who isn’t married and she thinks it makes her look bad because all my dad’s other kids have their lives together… anyway, she said either I find a bride for myself or she was going to give me one. And, uh, she’s not very, hmm, generous, is she?”

Definitely a rhetorical question. You do not need to have met the faerie princess to know of her predilection for malice. Felix would most likely be saddled with some Shakespearean donkey-headed monstrosity for all his days. Felix, being Felix, would smile blithely and accept his awful fate, saying little on the matter when prompted.

Felix is like that. He shows neither amity nor animosity to much. His emotions, whatever they are, manifest unpredictably. He smiles a lot of blank smiles. Occasionally he bursts into random tears that flood out of him with terrifying distress. It comes upon him unexpectedly, so big that it is almost theatrical. You think he might be mimicking expressions of human pain to convey whatever interior hurt he is feeling, however severe or benign, then it just stops until next time.

He is not the sort to wail and harass you. Even if he was desperate, he would not force you to marry him. Looking into his dark eyes, you know that much. There are plenty of stories the world over where supernatural princes steal mortal girls from their beds, where they compel them to dance until their feet bleed, where they fill their heads with songs that play until the human goes mad and dies in some anguished pit in their own mind.

There are not many stories where they propose in a café.

“Felix, you idiot!” Jisung smacks Felix on the arm. “You didn’t even tell her the important part.”

“Oh yeaaah,” Felix says.

Jisung scoffs and looks at you, his expression soft again. He squeezes your hand.

“Baby,” he says, “you know how Felix and I have a special, um, connection?”

You know he means the changeling magic but you think about them kissing. You push the image aside, as well as the lingering jealously, and nod.

“Right,” Jisung says. “We’re like… tied together and shit, right? Like if I got hit by a bus, Felix would also go splat.”

“Faeries don’t splat,” Felix says, bristled.

“Splat,” Jisung says sweetly, “like a big stupid faerie pancake.”

“Jisung,” you say, “are you going to make a point?”

“The point,” Jisung says, “is Felix is gonna live a long time, if he doesn’t go splat. So that means… I’m gonna live a long time too.”

“If,” Felix interrupts, “he comes with me to live among the folk.”

The fair folk. Another name for the courtly fae. Divided into seasonal realms, the four courts host a variety of faerie life. Felix is from the autumn court and Jisung was spirited to it as baby. You have never crossed from this world into the faerie world. You know the stories better than anyone, almost more familiar with the foreign realm than the world around you, but its reality has only ever been a distant dream.

This seems like the world’s strangest break-up: your boyfriend leaving you for his changeling faerie to live an immortal life in the faerie realm.

Except it’s not a break-up. It’s a proposal.

“I have no idea what’s happening right now,” you say, juggling feelings of confusion and jealousy and desire. “What does that have to me with me? And getting married?”

“It will bond us together too,” Felix says, smiling again. “Do you understand? Isn’t that wonderful? The three of us can be together for always. I think you’ll really like it.” He looks sideways at Jisung and adds, “And you’re smarter than him when it comes to the fair folk. I would feel better if Jisung had your company.”

“What?” Jisung slaps the table. “What are you talking about? I’m the one who’s been there! I am so totally super smart about faeries all the time!”

“You once ate a magic apple and grew a tail,” Felix says.

“You know I get snacky after my naps. Besides, I got better. Suck on some salty iron and boom, no tail.”

Felix sighs, exasperated, and Jisung sighs, even more exasperated.

“Please marry me,” Felix says imploringly. “For all of us.”

Felix cannot lie. Faerie magic ranges from miniscule to immense, but lying is an impossibility regardless of rank.

An inability to lie does not guarantee honesty. The truth can be obfuscated. Faeries are clever with words, cleverer still what they reveal at all.

Felix has not lied. He needs to marry. It would bond you. You are smarter than Jisung when it comes to the fair folk.

Felix has not told the whole truth. He does not need to marry you specifically. He would be happy with just Jisung, you think. They have something special, something you have always watched from the outside. You know a lot about faeries but you do not belong to their world. Felix could keep Jisung safe. You are a spare.

Despite the loving stare of your two oldest friends, you feel woefully insecure. You take your hands back and rest them in your lap, staring morosely into your cooling hot chocolate.

“Baby?” Jisung says gently.

You look up. They look equally concerned. They reach for you at the same time then look at each other. They mutely come to an accord and Felix takes your hand. You shiver immediately.

“Sweetheart,” Felix says. “It’s just me. I won’t… I won’t make you do something you don’t want to do, but I… I want to know… I mean, do you not…”

“You don’t want to come with us?” Jisung asks, his bottom lip wobbling. Tears spill over his cheeks seconds later. “I-I-I know it’s a bit weird. But you’ve always talked about wanting to see it anyway. And you don’t have any family here anymore. Are you worried about the royal court thing? Because I’m gonna be there and Felix says we’ll spend most of our time at his bower anyway and okay I don’t even know what that means and I didn’t wanna seem stupid so I didn’t ask—”

“It’s just my tree-house, Jisung,” Felix says.

“It’s just his tree-house,” Jisung sobs.

“It isn’t that,” you say. You reach for Jisung so you are holding both their hands. You give them a squeeze. “I love you both. So much. It hurts a little sometimes because of how much. And I’m scared… I’m scared of being left behind.”

They both pause. Felix looks more bewildered than any supernatural creature in history, you are sure. They are inviting you to come along and you express fear of the opposite. It must be incomprehensible to his mind.

Apparently it also confuses Jisung because he softly whispers, “What the fuck.”

You bring their hands together and withdraw your own touch.

“I just mean…” You are too embarrassed to vocalize it.

Recognition lights their eyes at the same time. Jisung rips his hand away.

“I can’t be alone with Felix forever!” Jisung cries. “Are you crazy? We need you! Without you it’s just… just… just us. It’s nothing, it’s empty. You… you’re our person. If you’re not there too… then… then… then I’m not going either. I’d rather get old and die with you than live forever without you.”

Felix’s mouth opens and closes with a storm of unspoken thoughts. He has sobbed spectacularly at birthday cards and scraped knees, but he doesn’t cry now.

Jisung’s exclamation rattles you. It was such a genuine burst of emotion, so rich with devotion that you feel silly for ever doubting either of them. Empty, he said. You never considered what kind of echo might exist between them, how your presence filled it and made it better, not worse.

You intend to remedy your blunder, an apology on your lips, but then Felix finds his words.

“I’ll tell you my name,” he says. “My true name. Will that be enough to convince you?”

Enough?

You and Jisung stare at Felix with your jaws dropped. Felix clenches his jaw, staring back at you.

Faeries go by many names in their long lifetimes. Felix was the name Jisung’s mother gave him, but it is not his true faerie name. Names are powerful things. If a mortal has a faerie’s true name, they can ensorcell and compel that faerie to do their bidding. It essentially enslaves them.

Faeries do not freely reveal their true names, not to other faeries and certainly not to mortals. Tricky mortals have uncovered faerie names, stories of humans triumphing over wicked creatures, but you cannot think of a single story where the faerie got down on one knee and willingly offered it.

Because that’s what Felix does. He gets out of the booth and gets down on one knee in front of you, then looks up at you with dark, desperate eyes.

“I’ll tell you right now if that’s what it takes,” he says. His hands are shaking. The wind starts knocking at the window again, harder than before. Leaves form columns of colour, shooting up to the sky, scattering in every direction.

“Don’t,” you say. “Don’t.” The trust this requires is extraordinarily substantial. It means more than any simple I love you. Maybe Felix feels human love or maybe he feels something different. Maybe losing you is not like losing a person, but like losing a limb or something equally vital. It must be, for him to offer up his entire being in a word.

The gesture means more than you can say. The best way to reciprocate it is by refusing it.

“It’s enough,” you say, choked up. “It’s enough that you would offer.”

“I’ll tell you,” he says, like he thinks you don’t believe him. But of course you believe him. He can’t lie.

“I know,” you say. “I’m sorry I doubted you. Come here please.”

Felix sits beside you and lets you wrap your arms around his neck. He is tentative at first but then he looks at Jisung and holds you tighter. The world outside settles once more.

“Wow, that was intense,” Jisung says. He grabs a napkin and blows his nose. “Wheeew. Wednesdays, am I right?”

Felix pulls back, just enough so he can see your face. You feel shy under his rapt attention, flush with warmth when his fingertips sweep from your temple to your jaw. He holds your chin and tilts your face up. He seems to be studying you. This close, you can see all the shades of brown in his eyes, even flecks of dark, dark green and threads of gold. There is a shimmer to the black of his iris. If he turned a certain way, you think his glamour would disappear. You think he would be beautiful anyway.

He exhales. His breath flutters over your lips.

“Will you come with us?” he asks, his deep voice rumbling so soft and low. “Will you marry me?”

You look at Jisung. You cannot imagine any circumstance in which a man would look so eager for his girlfriend to accept another man’s proposal, yet this feels completely normal.

Normal. The three of you have always had your own definition of that word, haven’t you?

You look at Felix, at the shimmer of his bold gaze.

“Yes,” you say. “Yes, I will.”

Felix smiles and Jisung lets out a whoop! You laugh, turning aside to wipe an unbidden tear from your eye. Felix touches your cheek. He looks more entranced than anything, blinking long and slow like a content cat.

Jisung is still celebrating. He shoves half your croissant in his mouth while you are distracted. Then, with his cheeks stuffed full of pastry, his eyes get wide.

“Ohyeah, weforgotsumffing!” he says around a mouthful of food. He coughs, swallowing too quickly. Felix clears his throat and passes Jisung your mug. Jisung gulps it down while you and Felix exchange an affectionate glance.

Then Jisung clinks the cup on the table and looks at you, sheepish.

“Haha,” he says. “By the way, you have to fuck Felix.”

There are entrances to faerie in the deepest part of the woods. Doorways are found in unlikely patterns that most humans will declare peculiar but innocuous: rings of spotted mushrooms, circular patches of darkening grass, shadows that arch with a perfect curve beneath a canopy of leaves.

You have known this all your life, but you also knew to never go looking. Not on your own. A mortal wandering into faerie is not so different from a lamb wandering into a wolf den.

Even with a wolf escort, you feel like that vulnerable lamb. You hold hands with Jisung the entire trek, trailing behind Felix who hums as he lightly dances his way through even the harshest terrain. Finally you come across two branches, twining up and up until they tangle like two hands clasping across a chasm.

Winded from the exertion of the hike, you and Jisung come to a slow stop to catch your breaths. Felix hurries ahead, his face brightening as he approaches the archway.

“You ready?” Jisung asks, squeezing your hand.

“Yeah,” you say. “You?”

“Oh, hell yeah, baby,” he says with a laugh. You look at him only to find his gaze turned on the archway, faraway with reminiscence. “I remember it, you know,” he says.

“What?” you ask. Jisung has never mentioned this before. “But you were just a baby.”

He looks at you with surprise, like he didn’t expect an answer. Maybe he didn’t mean to say it out loud. He laughs, deflecting the tension, and rubs the back of his neck.

“Yeah, I know,” he says. “Magic I guess, or something. I dunno. I just know I remember it. There’s stuff that happened last week I can’t remember. In a year, or fifty, or a hundred, I don’t know what I’ll remember from here. But I remember this place like I never left.”

You squeeze his hand again. He looks at you and smiles, squeezing back.

“Come on!” Felix calls. He is standing at the archway, waving to you. He is wearing jeans and a t-shirt, a leather satchel slung across his chest. The mundanity of his clothing looks unnatural. If he looked inhuman in that café, he looks even less human now. His glamour is in tact, his freckles pronounced, but there is a quality to him that defies logic. He looks like he could take off flying and it would not be unusual.

You and Jisung exchange a final glance then approach. Felix smiles and walks backwards through the archway. You can see him clearly as if he merely took another step in the woods. He holds out his hands, you and Jisung taking one each, then you step through as well.

Oh.

October orange sunlight pours through the trees, the early sunset colour of a clear autumn day at its close. The woods are a mosaic of colour: green, orange, yellow, red, brown, little swirls of leaves flying from branch to branch, gathering in piles and scattering again. You watch leaves settle over a pile of bones only for the whole apparatus to knit itself together. You stumble to a surprised stop as a cat made of bones and leaves unfurls before your eyes. It scampers up to Felix, rattling like an ivory windchime and somehow still purring. Felix scratches behind its leafy ears, smiling and greeting the kitty affectionately.

“Come on,” Felix says, not noticing the way you and Jisung are completely arrested by the sight of the cat. “It’s not far from here.”

It is the domicile of the autumn court. It is built into the woods, or swallowed by it, grand structures built within and around trees, some abodes very high in the sunlit branches, some disappearing into the ground. They are decorated with garlands of dried flowers, gardens of gourds and harvest fruit weaving around the lower rooms. You jump, startled, when a pile of nearby leaves rises up, revealing itself to be a deer, presumably also made of bones beneath its leafy surface.

“Whoa,” Jisung says, an apt summary. The leaf animals have no eyes, the faces uncanny. The deer turns its neck with a click of bone, dipping its head in a respectful bow to Felix as he passes.

Felix doesn’t notice. He is watching you and Jisung now, smiling with so much mirth you think he might start glowing.

“Do you like it?” he asks, looking directly at you. Maybe he knows what Jisung is feeling without asking. You try to school your expression to show more than just awe.

“It’s beautiful,” you say. You can see how a mortal could be a swept away by the beauty of the faerie court. Between the glitter of crunchy leaves and the wafts of cinnamon and spice, it fantastically overwhelms the senses. You can also see how quickly this dream could turn into a nightmare, if the sun was eclipsed and the undead creatures of the earth turned their vacant eyes on you.

You do not convey the complexity of your thoughts. Felix takes for granted that you always tell the truth, even though he knows you can lie. You think he sometimes forgets. His whole face crinkles up with a smile now, maybe too severely, but you appreciate his attempt to render delight for you.

“A little further to the palace,” Felix says.

“Palaaace,” Jisung says in a sing-song, squeezing your hand. He almost knocks you over when a bird swoops by his head. This raven is real, not made of leaves, and it perches on Felix’s shoulder. “Birds,” Jisung says woefully. “There’s always a freaky-ass bird.”

“This is one of mine,” Felix says, scratching its head. “I think my brother sent it.”

You watch as the bird leans in, eerily person-like in how it seems to whisper in his ear before fluttering off. Felix neither smiles nor frowns, his mouth drawing into a thin line as he comes to a halt.

“What is it?” Jisung asks. His startled tone reveals that Felix might be perturbed.

“They’re expecting us,” Felix says, gazing ahead as if he can see your destination through all the foliage. “They’re already preparing our wedding.”

“What?” you and Jisung say at the same time. You look at each other then you ask, “Did you tell them already?” Felix only proposed yesterday and he has not returned to the faerie realm, unless he snuck away overnight, but you don’t think so. He spent the night with you and Jisung, Jisung insisting on being the little spoon between two big spoons. Felix had his arm around Jisung and his hand in yours all night.

“No,” Felix answers. “I didn’t say anything yet.”

“This feels spoooooky,” Jisung sings, then laughs nervously.

“Maybe,” Felix says with a casual shrug of his shoulders. “Maybe not. Let’s go.”

You and Jisung exchange another look, but you have gone too far to turn around, so you follow Felix. He leads you to a red-bricked path that thickens with moss the further you walk. When you reach the base of a hill, Felix stops to hold your hand.

“Don’t look back until I say,” he says. “You could fall. Keep your eyes on me or the cat. She knows the way too.”

The cat is running around your feet, mewling, though the clack of its jaws is louder than its airy voice. You decide to look at Felix instead. Apparently Jisung picks the cat because he coos, “Aww, she’s kinda cute in a freaky way. What’s her name?”

“Babyeater,” Felix says.

“Oh nooo,” Jisung replies.

You follow Felix and the cat up an incline that grows so steep that at one point you are walking perpendicular to the forest below. You look at Felix the whole time, squeezing his hand tightly. His returned squeeze is reassuring. You remind yourself this is Felix, the same boy who kissed your scraped knees better, who sat through all your childhood tea parties even though he never really understood the concept of playing pretend, the same boy who has dutifully and lovingly obliged your every whim, however much he failed to understand its human purpose. For Felix, it was always enough if it made you happy.

He leads you safely over the crest of the hill, then it’s just a few more steps through a darker patch of woods before you are stepping into a huge clearing, bright and orange and gold. Three massive, broad trees stand in the distance, an elaborate stone citadel built around the trunks. There are faeries and other supernatural entities wandering around an autumnal garden, some scurrying with bundles of lights and candles and drapery. The clearing and castle have been beautifully and frightfully decorated with pumpkins and dried flowers and bones.

“Is this for us?” Jisung asks. “Uh, I mean, for you?”

“It looks like it,” Felix says uncertainly. “I don’t know how they—”

Jisung screams, a proper shrill yell right in your ear, when something bursts out of some shrubbery and blocks his path. You stumble back with wide-eyed surprise and Jisung instinctively shields you even in his terror. Felix is not scared, his face neutral as ever, but his connection to Jisung has him reacting similarly, guarding you with his body.

An eyeless husk straightens itself, bony limbs stretching for the sky. You hear the crack of a neck-bone and the flutter of leaves, then all at a once a glamour settles over the faerie, revealing a handsome young man with short brown hair and dark eyes.

“He’s still loud,” the faerie says. “You were loud as a baby too. Wahhh-wahhhh-wahhhhhh—”

“Seungmin,” Felix says, nonplussed. “Thank you for the raven.”

Felix bows and the faerie, Seungmin, who must be the aforementioned brother, bows back as per the dictation of decorum.

“Chan is mad he had to find out the news from Hyunjin,” Seungmin says, his mouth quirked in a smirky little half-smile. “You better to be ready to grovel.”

“Ah,” Felix says. He looks over at you and Jisung who are clinging to each other, still wide-eyed with surprise. “Hyunjin is a prince from the spring court,” Felix says. “He can see the future.”

“Oh,” Jisung says. “Yeah, sure, makes sense.” He looks at you with a face that says, it definitely does not make sense.

“Spring court,” Seungmin says with a little eye-roll. “They burst in here with a dramatic fuss like always. It’s embarrassing that the high prince of autumn learned about his favourite little brother’s engagement from a different court...”

“I can’t help that Hyunjin sees the future,” Felix says, more disgruntled than you have ever heard him. It occurs to you, as you look between him and Seungmin, that Felix stands out here just as much as he did in the human world. It is different, as here it is the little cracks of humanity that fracture his faerie face. Not just the glamour, the freckles or his clothes, but some intrinsic bearing. Maybe it is the sameness to Jisung, the way they block you with the same stance, the way they shuffle on the same foot. Maybe it’s something else, but it is suddenly pronounced.

Seungmin does not appear to notice Felix’s tone. He just gives another bow which Felix is forced to return. You see Jisung twitching and you squeeze his hand.

“You don’t have to bow,” you whisper.

“I know,” he says, then bobs twice in an aborted half-bow.

You sigh. You jump when Jisung shrieks again, startled by a little leaf-dog that comes running out of the shrubbery. It is being pursued by some frantic sprites. They yammer at the puppy in a faerie tongue as it starts to chase the cat. All their bones are clattering as they run around, cat then dog then sprites. Seungmin blinks at the fiasco then looks at Felix.

“Let’s go,” Seungmin says. He turns and gives you a bow, as is polite, then looks at Jisung and says, “Boo!”

Jisung jumps and Seungmin cackles, bowing.

Felix gives Seungmin a little shove, his mouth a grim line again.

You follow Seungmin further into the garden, coming upon a feast that seems to be currently underway even while servants continue to set the party around the guests. Food appears and disappears off the table, some faeries eating and some of them throwing food at the servants. You have heard stories of ensorcelled human servants being trapped in places like this, but you only see faeries so far. It doesn’t put you at ease exactly, but you don’t feel quite as frightened.

Then all the faerie guests at the grand table stop and look at you. Then you are frightened.

“Hi,” Jisung squeaks.

It is nervously and thoughtlessly blurted, but it would be impolite to ignore it, so a chorus of “hi” and “hello” circles the table in return.

Most of them have a glamour of some kind. A stockier, handsome faerie with bright orange hair stands. He is on the other side of the long banquet table but manifests in front of you in mere seconds. You are very alarmed to find him wearing bandages under a black army coat, the white wraps stained with blood. It is very at odds with his deeply dimpled smile.

“Hi there,” he says, looking past Jisung and straight at you. “Wow, Felix really did it. Welcome. Call me Chan. Sorry for the, ah, blood, I think it upsets humans?” This apology seems sincere enough, accompanied with a tilt of the head, but he offers no further explanation. He pulls you into an embrace, tucking you into the fold of one muscular arm, and laughing with an unexpectedly adorable giggliness. “We have a human little sister. That’s fun, yeah?” He looks at the table and everyone nods and claps, only a few characters mutely unresponsive.

You smile, maybe. It feels a bit boxy. Your brain is fitting all the pieces together, recalling that Seungmin referred to Chan as the high prince of autumn. Chan is thus the highest font of power in this faerie court and he is hugging you.

The hug pulls you away from Jisung who moves closer to Felix. You look at them, watching as they hold hands, trying to convey with your eyes that you would rather be with them.

There is no time for any extraction attempt because a fuss stirs at one end of the table. A pink-haired faerie bursts out of his seat. He is long-limbed, tall and spindly, and he runs around the huge table at a fairly human speed. He is wearing a billowy green jacket and a long string of pearls, his pastel appearance at some odds to the deepness of the autumn court.

“Hey Fee-lix! Heeey!” he says, very literally bouncing when he reaches Felix.

“Aha, hi, Hyunjin,” Felix says.

“You brought humans!” Hyunjin says, sweeping down to look at Jisung, then turning his dark-eyed stare to you. His glamour is astonishingly beautiful, as bright as his pearls, a face like a handsome marble statue and a supermodel’s stature. But he slinks like a ferret, as smirky as a fox. “The bride,” he says with something of a wistful sigh. His dark eyes are sparkling. “A faerie and a human. How romantic. I love romance.”

Then you are freed from hugging Chan, but only because Hyunjin cups your face in both hands and kisses you. Not a greeting kiss either, but a deep kiss. You sputter when he licks you.

“Um,” Jisung squeaks.

“This is High Prince Hyunjin. Of the spring court, of course,” Chan says amiably, not doing anything to stop the high prince of the spring court from sucking face with his brother’s bride.

Hyunjin stops on his own, smiling at you fondly. “Pretty girl,” he says, stroking his whole hand over your face. “I wish I could marry you.” This is spoken without much longing, but it must be true or he couldn’t say it.

He turns his sights on Jisung next. Jisung straightens, eyes darting around for an escape.

“The changeling baby,” Hyunjin says. “He’s so cute now. Can I marry this one, Felix?”

Jisung’s eyes widen, looking at Felix, then at you.

Felix looks unamused. “No,” he says simply.

Hyunjin pouts, slinking up to Jisung. He grabs his face, long fingers grasping him tight. Jisung’s lips part with surprise, his cheeks puffing when Hyunjin shakes his head around.

“That’s not fair,” Hyunjin says. “You already have one.”

“I said no,” Felix repeats.

Hyunjin just sighs. “I knew you’d say that,” he says. “Oh well.” Then he kisses Jisung full on the mouth too, Jisung squeaking through the very wet onslaught. Hyunjin just smiles and strokes his face, then goes back to the table.

Hyunjin’s self-introduction triggers a similar desire in the remaining guests. Soon they are swarming you, forced into the vaguest semblance of a queue when Chan waves a demanding hand. You meet Felix’s mother, who smiles and coos at you like she didn’t mandate a wife in the first place. You meet Changbin, another half-brother of Felix, who thankfully follows the example set by Chan and not Hyunjin and simply hugs you. He is so burly and strong that it lifts you off your feet, but he has enough restraint not to crush you, so that’s something.

There are clusters of other faeries, all noisy, all dipping in bows or trying to kiss you, and all of them from the spring or autumn court. A hush falls over the garden when the remaining guests approach for an introduction. Felix finally appears at your side, Jisung too, standing on either side of you and holding your hands.

“Winter and Summer,” Felix whispers as two courtly fae and their retinues step forward.

You know very well why Felix deigns to warn you. The autumn court and spring court, as per their seasonal equivalents, are shifting and transitory in many ways; they grow and they learn, and they often host humans, be it in a generous or malicious capacity. The winter and summer courts are hostile to change, and both have little to do with humans at all. Whatever human encounters have transpired in those courts have left few survivors to speak of it.

Their glamours fit them strangely, like new clothes not yet broken in. The first prince wears his glamour like a boy forced into dress clothes by a parent, walking with a stiff sort of discomfort. His robes are coloured blue and yellow, long and loose, his blonde hair turning dark blue at the root. His dimples are deep and cheekbones very sharp, and when he smiles he reveals a whole row of long, piercing teeth that he forgot to glamour altogether.

You jump, staring aghast as the otherwise too-pretty prince sweeps into a bow. He looks at Chan, sees him smiling, and copies the expression with a frightful brightness.

“Prince Jeongin,” Felix says. He squeezes your hand, reminding you to bow back. You do so swiftly. “Summer.”

“High Prince,” Jeongin says, laughing for some reason, a wheezing sound.

“You have fourteen older brothers,” Felix says.

“Had.” Jeongin smiles again, his dimples deepening, his teeth glittering. “I ate them.”

“Oh,” Felix says. There is a pause as he looks at you then looks at Jeongin. Your face reveals terror, you are certain, but Jeongin is waiting expectantly. Felix weighs his words and says, “Uh. You must be happy to be congratulated.”

You wonder how you ever thought Felix was strange. He seems so normal suddenly, the only one who finds something wrong with a person eating fourteen brothers. If he did approve, he would not have to word his congratulations so strangely to avoid a lie.

Unless he just did that to appease you, a small voice says in the back of your head. A different truth is not a lie.

You wish you were not such an overthinker. This is Felix. Your Felix. Yours, yours. As much yours as Jisung, who is breathing a little heavier, so it makes Felix breathe heavier, and their combined strain has you close to panting as well.

You are thus all breathless when you meet the final prince, introduced as High Prince Minho of the winter court. He is wearing dark clothes, apparently sans his usual furry winter accoutrements, and his glamour is a barely-there mask that vanishes when the light hits him at certain angles. He wears it like a loosely tied scarf, grudgingly donned. He has not glamoured his eyes, mismatched and vibrant and vacant of all human emotion. He does not smile when he bows. Like Jeongin, he does not hug or kiss you.

He looks you over, his stare raking, then he does the same to Jisung. Whatever he sees makes him laugh, though it is a derisive sound. Then he looks at Felix and says, “They’re fragile. Be careful, changeling.”

When he leaves, Jisung whispers, “Honestly, that last one got me kinda hard.”

“Yeah,” Felix says, unhappily, “I know.”

And just like that, you are trying very hard not to laugh.

You look at Felix and find his returned gaze to be very affectionate. You always thought his regards looked a little too precise, like he was concentrating on forming the appropriate expression, but compared to certain toothy grins and cold laughs, Felix looks positively alight with sentiment. He still looks strange in his t-shirt and jeans, but you think he might look strange anyway.

It never occurred to you before that Felix’s changeling life might have made him an oddity on both sides of the veil.

You feel a pang of sympathy, suddenly.

Felix looks down at where you are holding his hand. You see his gaze flit across to where you hold Jisung’s hand as well. It exacerbates that pang in your chest, recalling your own jealousy when you found them kissing, plus all the years spent wishing you shared their magical connection. It never occurred to you that Felix might feel some type of way about you dating Jisung, about you and Jisung both being human. Maybe it reminded he was an outcast wherever he went. Always very close to being part of something, never quite belonging.

Funny enough, Jisung has always been significantly more blasé. He sets his sights on what he wants and it never occurs to him that he will not have it. He has Felix, he dates you, you marry Felix, he lives forever. You look at your human boyfriend, at the way his dark eyes seem to sparkle as he looks around the garden. You think somehow, despite his occasional shrieks and frights, he looks more home here than Felix.

“Right then!” Chan suddenly claps in your face, startling you. “It’s wedding time, yeah? We’ve never had a human wedding here before but Hyunjin is an expert so he helped us out…”

Two faerie servants rip you away from Felix and Jisung. Hyunjin follows you, looking very keen, his hands clasped behind his back but his whole face lit up brightly. His eagerness does not put you at ease, nor are you reassured by his seemingly “expert” advice. Seeing as he thought it was appropriate to introduce himself by making out with you, you sincerely doubt he is the human expert he has proclaimed himself to be.

Sure enough, the slapdash preparations are very random. You are shoved into a very pretty dress, but then Hyunjin attempts to adorn you with both a veil and a headpiece, and you can see an array of other accessories from international wedding regalia. Being as polite as possible, you decline the offer to any headpiece at all.

“Wow,” Hyunjin says, cupping your face. “You are so humble. Humans are so amazing, the way they just let themselves be ugly. Wow. Wow. I won’t interfere with your hideous but humble head. Should we kiss again?”

“I think it’s better we don’t,” you say. “It might wrinkle the dress?”

He nods sagely. “That would be bad,” he agrees. “Especially because your head is so bare and horrible. The dress is doing all the work. Can I put flowers in your hair or do you really prefer to be ugly?”

“Uh, flowers, yeah, sure,” you say. He says everything so frankly that you somehow can’t feel offended. A compliment would feel just as meaningless.

“I’ve always wanted to attend a human wedding,” Hyunjin says. “You know, spring is a very popular time for human weddings. But humans are always dying so fast after, so it makes me sad to watch them properly.”

“You feel sadness?” you ask. Though Hyunjin and Felix seem quite different, perhaps you can glean an answer to the depth of faerie emotions. Especially considering this marriage business feels like an entirely different beast now that you are in a wedding dress with an entire congregation of faeries sitting in a garden waiting for you. It seemed like a simpler affair when it was just Felix and Jisung in a café booth.

“Oh, of course,” Hyunjin says. “I feel sad all the time. I feel sad right now because you aren’t marrying me.” He says this with a great deal of joviality, smiling at you like he’s proud of his supposed sadness.

You decide not to ask more questions on that front, because you doubt his answers will be very helpful. You do enquire after the wedding festivities. You try not to frown at the very random assemblage of traditions he has baked into a single ceremony. It sounds like a tedious affair but you decide to brace it, supposing it could be worse.

“Then we all watch the royal consummation,” Hyunjin says casually, adding another flower to your hair.

You grab his wrist without thinking, stopping him.

“Did I stab you?” he asks, blowing on your head to check for blood. “Sorry. I keep forgetting pins in heads kill humans.” He says this with a lot of exasperation, like it’s a personal inconvenience to him that humans die so easily.

“No, it’s not that,” you say. He pops another peony on your head, manifesting the little buds out of thin air. “What do you mean ‘we all watch the royal consummation?’ Who is ‘we’?”

“The high princes, obviously,” he says, tucking a rose behind your ear.

You stare ahead, mouth hanging open.

Yesterday seems so long ago now, but Jisung and Felix did explain to you that the autumn court required an act of consummation to legitimize the marriage. Apparently it has nothing to do with virginity or rearing heirs, mostly functioning as a ritual for the sake of itself. Once faeries decide something is a rule they must follow it.

You were very hot in the face the entire conversation. Jisung seemed content to describe the way you need would have sex with his changeling faerie, but you were too embarrassed to meet either gaze.

Maybe it would have been easier if you did not want to sleep with Felix. If it was just a necessity, it would be meaningless.

But you very much do desire Felix, even if he only smiled blithely during the discussion. He seemed unaffected while you were very flustered.

This is a very different type of flustered.

“I was not told there would be an audience,” you finally say.

“There isn’t usually,” Hyunjin says. “But that’s how human princes do it, if I remember. A whole council watches. Felix doesn’t have a council, though, so we’ll have to do it. It would be very rude not to indulge your human traditions. There! All done.”

He steps back to admire your appearance. You are still frazzled from the conversation, from the strong floral scent that is now wrapped around you, from everything.

“You look—” Hyunjin pauses, then, “—not horrible at all! I did a very good job. Now the wedding can start. I’ll tell Chan to start killing the sacrificial wedding goats. We only have one and it’s made of leaves and bones but I assumed that would be okay with you. This way we can just keep killing the same one over and over again. I’ll be right back.”

“Can I—” You feel panicked. You need to see Jisung. Hyunjin has you sequestered in some little golden alcove. You do not want to be hunted down if you just flee, so you ask, “Can I go look at myself in a mirror?”

“You’re testing me,” Hyunjin says, his long fingers covering his mouth with a surprised gasp. Then he giggles. “I passed! I know you can’t look at the bride before the wedding. Wait here!” Then he disappears out the gate and around the corner.

You sit down in a huff and close your eyes. You try counting backwards from one hundred to calm yourself, but you reach the low twenties and still feel tense.

Then you hear the patter of human footsteps. You know it is a human because faeries scarcely disturb the ground where they walk. You hear the crunch of leaves and lift your head, feeling a rush of relief with Jisung pokes his head into the alcove.

“There you are,” he says. “Felix is – uh – they’re getting him – dressed – and I wanted – wanted you—”

You stand as he talks, as his voice drifts, as his breath catches. He looks down the length of your dress then back up, his dark eyes watery as he exhales with a gut-punching whoosh.

“You look so beautiful, baby,” he says. “This – this feels weird. I know it’s – weird. But it’s not – it’s not wrong, right? It’s just weird. But weird isn’t bad. It’s just—”

“Weird,” you say, with a little laugh. “Yeah. I know.”

He smiles softly. He wore his glasses here but he has since put in contacts. His hair is neatly styled and he changed into slightly nicer clothes, still human world, but very handsome in his black pants and black shirt. He is so handsome that for a moment you forget about all your worries, taking a step towards him with your hand extended. He catches that hand, bringing it to his shoulder. He sweeps you into a kiss that banishes all your bad thoughts, the familiar taste and feel of him engulfing you. You sink your fingers in his hair, parting your lips under the press of his mouth.

It's him who ends the kiss, breathlessly, stuttering, “S-sorry, wait. I came here to tell – to tell you – the consummation – that pink guy—”

“I know,” you say with a cringe. You bury your face in his neck. “Ugh, a bunch of faeries are gonna watch me have sex.”

“Faeries and me!” he says with a nervous laugh.

“Huh!”

“I tried to stop it, but no one would really listen to me,” he says. “Someone only listened when I said it was weird for a guy to watch his little brother have sex, and some people agreed, so Prince Chan said I should take his place, since there were no faeries of equal rank to him and at least I was human.” He slaps a hand to his forehead. “Sorry. I tried.”

“Oh, Jisung,” you say, giggling a little helplessly at your morose boyfriend. “How do you get yourself into these situations?”

“You’re wearing a wedding dress!” he replies.

“That’s only because I know you!”

“Your life would have been very boring without me,” Jisung says, smiling.

“I know,” you say. “It would have been awful.”

Because for as strange as all this faerie nonsense is, you cannot imagine a world where you never knew Jisung, where you never knew Felix, where you never had this love in your life, as messy and jealous and complicated as it has been at times.

You tip your head, gazing into Jisung’s eyes. He shivers when you twirl a bit of his hair around your finger.

“Jisungie,” you say, thinking of your own jealousy, of Felix’s confounding glances. “Do you ever feel jealous at all?”

“Of what?” he asks, totally innocent.

“I don’t know,” you say. You are not sure how to explain it without seeming ridiculous, which puts it into some perspective. “I mean, me and Felix are about to… you know.”

“Uh, yeah. That’s okay. I don’t want to have sex in front of the cannibal faerie,” Jisung says, making you laugh. “Not a joke!”

“I know, I know.” You kiss his cheek.

“I couldn’t be jealous of you two,” he says, looking contemplative, as if this has never really occurred to him before. Then he looks at you a bit sheepishly, his gaze skittish in how it darts around.

“What?” you ask, recognizing his shy mischief.

“I think it’s… uh… kinda hot?” He rubs the back of his neck. “I love you and I guess I also love that stupid faerie boy. And… maybe… I kinda wanna see…”

You feel very hot again.

“You, um, want to watch Felix fuck me?” you ask, frankly as you can.

“Yes.” He stares straight up, his ears gone completely red and his cheeks turning pink. “I think you’ll look hot together. I was kinda hoping we’d do something like this one day. I mean, the cannibal faerie is a surprise, but other than that…”

You kiss him. His arms circle your waist and he tugs you close, the kiss deepening naturally. You let all your flustered embarrassment fizzle away, thinking about Felix, thinking about Jisung. You get a bit handsy, squeezing Jisung’s biceps then resting your hands on his chest. He makes a little sound into the kiss, one of his needy whimpers. It never fails to light you up.

“I’m nervous,” you say, speaking low, against his lips. “Thinking about so many of them watching me and Felix…”

It is clear by his gulp and frantic nod that Jisung finds the scenario sexier than he should. “Yeah, baby,” he says. “What can I do?”

You know the faeries will be occupied with Hyunjin’s myriad of rituals for a while, so you peck his lips and ask, “Get me ready?”

“Ready,” he repeats. His gaze jumps up to the flowers in your hair. “You are ready.”

“Not like that,” you say.

Jisung really does his best to be appropriate, but he gets pussy-drunk faster than any man you have ever known. A suggestion is all it takes. You tap his shoulder and he obediently drops to his knees.

“Baby,” he says in a reverent whisper, sighing, eyes closing when you run your fingers through his hair.

Heavy-lidded and so seemingly submissive to your desire, Jisung looks up at you. Then he reaches past you, grabs the chair by the leg, and yanks. He is not too gentle, spilling you onto it with a forceful nudge.

You know Jisung does nothing by halves. He is singular in his passions. You ask him to kneel, so he kneels, so he closes his eyes, so he opens his mouth. He pushes your dress out of his way and licks through your panties until the fabric is sticky and you are so so wet that it clings to you. Your thighs tremble and he whimpers softly, high and light in the back of his throat.

“Jisungie…”

“Shh, shh, shh,” he says in a raspy voice, drawing the fabric aside. “It’s okay. Don’t cry. I’ve got you, baby.”

He speaks so sweetly, like he is incapable of being mean, even while he torments you with long, twisting strokes of his tongue, never committing to a single pattern. It is a storm of sensation, rolling through you over and over again. You are so sensitive that slightest nudge feels like a miniature orgasm all on its own. You gasp and whine, trying and failing to close your legs around his head.

“Jisuuung,” you say, your voice rough. “We don’t have much time, I need to come…”

He moans when he buries his tongue in you, when he licks messily up past your clit and back down again. You grab his hair and tug, though it does nothing to deter him.

“Your husband can make you come later,” he says, giggling an inch from your pussy. “I’m just warming you up…”

“Please,” you say, “please, please, please.”

“Hmm?” is his reply, then he sighs and dives back.

Your eyes close, brow furrowing in concentration. You rock your hips against his mouth as he finally starts circling your clit with a single-minded resolve. You feel flushed and shaky, pleasure and heat coursing through you, and you know you must look as ravaged as you feel.

You open your eyes and see Felix standing in the entryway. He looks astonishingly beautiful, his long blonde hair neatly styled back, his freckles pronounced and eyes so dark. Long earrings made of sparkling orange gems dangle from his ears, looking at once like rippling flames and water running over bronze. He is dressed in an approximation of a tuxedo, except the pants are leather and the shirt and blazer are cropped too short.

He tips his head, his eyes on Jisung for a moment. Then he holds your gaze unflinchingly, maybe daringly. His smile appears slowly. It is too gentle to be lecherous, tender despite the fact his gloved hand runs over his belt and tugs. His tongue touches his bottom lip and he tips his head the other way.

His presence startles you for a moment. You should feel caught, or embarrassed, or something. But the initial surprise fades and you just stare back at him. You dig your fingers into Jisung’s hair and breathe harder as he strokes and strokes and strokes you with his tongue.

Felix exhales. His smile is still soft. He lifts a darkly gloved hand and gestures to you, curling two fingers, a suggestive come here.

Then Jisung’s hand goes from your thigh to your pussy, two fingers curling inside you without any resistance. Felix’s smile curves into a pleased, satisfied smirk. He nods.

You come, holding Jisung’s face against your pussy, letting him moan and whimper with his own pleasure as you roughly fuck his mouth. When he lifts his head, his mouth is so obscenely wet that you throb with a renewed ache of desire.

“I think you’re ready now,” Jisung says. He lowers your legs and slowly slides his fingers out of you. Your breath catches, swallowing up a sound of a surprise when he uses both thumbs to spread your pussy open to his gaze – his and Felix. Your head feels fuzzy and not with faerie magic.

“I think so,” Felix says.

Jisung does not seem surprised by his voice. He lets you go, your dress falling back over your lap. He wipes his mouth on the back of his hand and looks over his shoulder at Felix. Felix approaches, his steps silent despite his big black boots.

You watch. Jisung’s bottom lip twitches. He looks up at Felix with the same hazy intoxication he looked at you. Felix bites the tip of a glove, pulling the fabric off with his teeth, then he swipes his thumb across Jisung’s glistening mouth. Felix brings that thumb to his own bottom lip, his tongue only just swiping the tip of it.

Then Hyunjin struts into the alcove and slaps a shocked hand over his mouth.

“What are you doing?” he demands. You think he is going to remark on the man kneeling at your feet, not to mention your sexually dishevelled appearance, but then he says, “Felix. You’re supposed to have a hat.”

“I don’t need a hat, Hyunjin,” Felix says with a sigh. “I would like to talk to my bride for a minute.”

“That is impossible,” Hyunjin says. “You need a hat. Come with me.”

It occurs to you that you are watching the two most emotional faeries in their courts, even if those emotions are aimed in strange directions, like hats. Because Hyunjin is very adamant and Felix is very annoyed. You are more than a little concerned that if things come to a head, it will turn horrifying without much effort.

Then Jisung leaps to his feet and puts himself between the two faerie princes. It surprises everyone to silence. Even Hyunjin stumbles to a stop. He cocks his head like a predator regards a measly scrap of prey, eyes flashing as he takes a menacing step forward.

Felix has no time to react. You have no chance to scream.

Jisung is a step ahead of everyone.

He bows. Hyunjin stumbles to a stop for a second time. It takes him a second to realize what has happened but when he does his eye twitches. He bows back, then straightens with a huff.

Jisung bows again. You slap a hand over your mouth to hide your surprised laugh. Hyunjin looks far less amused. Glaring, he bows too, as per the rules of politeness.

Jisung leaps to the side and bows again, forcing Hyunjin to follow him. He does this twice more, leading Hyunjin to the exit, bowing back and forth the whole time.

“Make him stop!” Hyunjin shrieks.

“Okay, okay!” Jisung says, hands raised in surrender. He bows one more time, swooping low, then he turns and runs as fast as he can.

Hyunjin, obliged to return the bow, goes chasing after him with a frantic yelp.

“Is he gonna be okay?” you ask, springing to your feet. You dress falls neatly down.

“Yes,” Felix says. “Hyunjin won’t hurt humans. He likes them too much.” He turns to you then, his expression returned to a more passive neutrality, though you do not miss the way he looks you over. “Will you be okay?” he asks. “I’m sorry. I thought we would have more time when we got here. I didn’t know they would do this.”

“It’s okay,” you say, too shy for a conversation after he very much watched you orgasm. “Um. Might as well, I guess… get it out of the way.”

“Yes.” He frowns at this, turning aside. “You want to… get it out of the way. I understand. I’m sorry it had to be this way. You don’t want to marry me.”

He says it so plainly and without any hesitation. He must believe it is the absolute truth. For a moment, you can only stare at him, his handsome profile, the tendrils of sadness that tug at his features. How did you never see it before?

“Felix,” you say gently. He does not look at you. You touch his arm and he looks at your hand. “Felix, I am happy to marry you. I love you.” He looks up at that, his brow furrowed. “And Jisung,” you add. “I’m… I’m glad it happened this way. So that you and I—” He turns to you and your heart skips a few beats, affected by the warmth of his steady gaze. “So that you and I could come together as well. And now the three of us—”

“Can I kiss you?” he asks, then looks aside. “I’m sorry. That was forward, yeah? I just… don’t want the first time to be out there. Is that strange? To be honest, sometimes I don’t know what’s strange or what isn’t. The rules are different everywhere, you know? I don’t think I’m doing a good job of this. I’m sorry. We don’t have to—”

You cup his face and kiss him. It is very stiff for a moment, because you are both surprised by your brazen action. He somehow grounds himself first, a careful hand curling around your hip to guide you a little closer. A breath passes between you then he kisses you back.

You touch his chest, making a sweet small sound into the kiss when his lips slide so softly against yours. You are about to deepen it when Jisung interrupts with, “Aww, you’re kissing! So cute!”

You and Felix look over at him. His hands are clasped and he is gushing as only Jisung can.

“I thought you were running,” Felix says, with a hint of amusement.

“Stupid labyrinth led me back here,” Jisung says. He mimes zipping his lips shut and gestures to you. “Keep kissing. Pretend I’m not here.”

“I wouldn’t want to pretend that,” Felix says, so sincerely that Jisung’s eyes widen. They look at each other for a long moment, then Felix looks at you. He cups your face.

Then Hyunjin comes running in. He swings his arms in a dramatic flail and flower petals fly everywhere. The leaf dog comes running in and starts nipping at the air, trying to catch the petals. In the midst of this chaos, Hyunjin storms up to Jisung and promptly bows. Then he shoves him to the side and grabs Felix by the arm.

“Hat!” he shouts. “Now!”

It is a twenty-six hour wedding ceremony. You and Jisung fall asleep halfway through festivity number twelve, curled up under a furry blanket near a fire pit. You wake when Felix lifts your head into his lap. Jisung is already curled up with his head on your belly, so you smile and snuggle into Felix. He cups your face and strokes your cheek, the flickering firelight casting shadows on his face, making his smile seem bigger than usual.

The consummation ritual is last. It takes place inside the castle, in a beautiful room that appears to have been designed for this express purpose. The mossy stone walls are decorated with dried flowers, the plush bed laden with thick red throws and burgundy cushions. Despite the tall open windows, there is no autumn chill, a lit fireplace cozying the room with its warmth.

It would be a lovely chamber if not for the translucent curtain with a literal audience behind it. The winter and summer princes sit ramrod straight, so uninterested in their surroundings that it actually puts you at ease. Hyunjin looks… a little too eager to be honest, but you aren’t convinced he understands this ritual anymore than anything else today.

Jisung is side-eying Jeongin, who is sitting beside him because Hyunjin refused to sit by ‘the annoying changeling brat’. Minho is sitting between Jeongin and Hyunjin, casting the occasional side-eye to the spring prince. Despite his stoic countenance, his displeasure with the company is clear.

Honestly, the whole tableau is quite comedic. You find yourself trying to stifle laughter when Felix finally arrives. You were sent to separate rooms to undress and change into robes, but you arrived here first. Felix looks at you curiously, clearly perplexed by your laughter.

“You’re not nervous anymore,” he observes.

“No,” you say. “I’ve just been thinking like a faerie.”

He tilts his head at that. You smile and kiss him, a chaste kiss that makes his lashes flutter. The little reaction tickles a flurry of butterflies in your belly. You hold his hand and lead him to the bed where you sit down. His eyes shift with a nervous scuttle, but he follows the direction of your hand when you gesture to him.

You keep your eyes on his, intensely locked as you lift his hand and take two fingers in your mouth. When you close your lips around his fingers and gently suck, his breath catches. It echoes in Jisung.

Then Jeongin whispers loudly, “Is she going to eat him?” He sounds moderately intrigued.

“Be quiet,” Hyunjin replies.

“I think it’s over,” Minho says, catching onto your ruse before anyone else.

You smile and open your eyes. You separate from Felix and turn your head to the silhouettes beyond the curtain.

“A penetrative performance,” you state. “I believe that was the requirement. And I believe that should qualify.”

You are stretching the meaning of those words and you know it, but that’s what faeries do. His fingers ‘penetrated’ the breach of your mouth, so it should count on the most technical level.

“All done,” you say with a smile and wave.

“So you’re not eating him?” Jeongin says, frowning.

Minho is the first one to stand. He flicks Jeongin’s forehead as he passes, but otherwise says nothing before fleeing the room. Jeongin follows with a slightly disgruntled shuffle, then Hyunjin stomps his foot.

“Humans,” he says, marching past Jisung.

The door closes behind Hyunjin. Jisung claps a hand over his mouth and laughs into it, so hard he has to put a hand over his stomach as he doubles over. Felix laughs too, a pleasantly low rumble that he tries to stifle with a cough. You smile up at him, leaning back on your palms and admiring him in the warm orange light. He tucks some hair behind his ear, regarding you with a very tender gaze when he nods his head in a curt little bow.

“All done,” he says. It makes your brow furrow: the little shift in tone, the tension that still draws his shoulders back. You realize that even after everything, he is still uncertain about his place. Even Jisung knows where he belongs, not for a moment thinking he should leave the room, but Felix takes a step away from the bed like he intends to do just that.

You grab his hand, drawing his attention back to you. Blonde hair falls around his face, shadowing it. He doesn’t quite meet your eyes, gaze somewhere on your chin.

“Felix,” you say. His fingers tighten around yours and it feels like a question. You answer by tugging that hand, drawing him closer. His eyes flash gold when you drop his hand to open your robe. This time you can hear Jisung’s sharp breath too, all laughter subsiding as you let the robe fall off your shoulders, laying yourself bare before Felix.

He looks awed but stricken. You can see when he swallows. He looks at Jisung then back at you, his brow furrowing. His lips twitch in a bid to speak but no words come.

It would be funny, this supernatural being somehow struck dumb by you in your most vulnerable state, but your smile is more affectionate than amused.

“Felix,” you say again. “Have you ever done something like this before?”

He shakes his head frantically, his eyes still running up and down your body.

“No,” he says. “Uh, no. No. I can – feel something when Jisung – when you – I mean—” He chokes on an awkward laugh, turning away for a second.

“I fucking knew it!” Jisung says, poking his head between the folds of the curtain. “Bro, you’re such a liar. I asked if you could feel when we fuck and you said no!”

“I can’t lie,” Felix replies, turning to Jisung. He forgets to be embarrassed while arguing, very plainly and patiently stating his case. “I told you most faeries don’t think about sex like humans and that I couldn’t be certain what you were doing, yeah? And I can’t. And I would have told you more but you only asked the first time and I didn’t know you were going to keep… being with her. And I – I didn’t want to make things awkward… for you… okay? By thinking of me every time… so I just… What are you smiling at?” His deep voice breaks, pitching comically higher for a second.

Jisung is smirking and nodding, just a floating head with a vague silhouetted body behind the curtain.

“Man,” Jisung says, “you’ve been acting like a monk but secretly jacking it while we get freaky in the other room… That’s naughty.”

Felix draws his mouth into a flat line then looks at you for help. You are trying to hold in your giggles, lips pressed tight together. When he looks at you, you exhale, waving at Jisung to back down for a second. He ducks behind the curtain again, giggling to himself like the menace he is.

Fortunately, Felix is easy to distract. All it takes is opening your legs for his all his attention to zero in there. He swallows again.

“Sounds like we’ve been teasing you too long,” you say, your voice drawing his eyes back up to your face. You smile and beckon him forward. “Come on. Let me make it up to you.”

He looks like he is going to deflect politely, either because he is a faerie or because he is Felix, but then you grab his robe and yank him closer. He stumbles up to you, his fingers fluttering at his sides and his shoulders still tense. You take one of his hands and place it on the side of your face, soothing him with another gentle smile as you unknot his robe.

He is already very hard and this seems to fluster him, but he points to the curtain and sputters, “He’s – touching—“

“Fuck yeah I am,” Jisung says.

“Jisung, shh,” you say, trying not to giggle again. “And slow down. You’re always so impatient.”

“Am not,” Jisung says, but you can see him lean back, folding his hands behind his head.

You look up at Felix, holding his gaze the way you did when you sucked his fingers. You like the way he twitches and breathes harder, the way his eyes flash, the way his jaw clenches. His thumb curls under your jaw when your mouth slides over him. You can’t help but moan when his whole face contorts with more natural emotion than you have ever seen from him. His breath stutters and stops and starts, his sounds so low and guttural that you feel them inside you.

“Oh, fuck, dude,” Jisung says, rasping. You pull back just a little, drooling and stroking with your hand, and glancing at Jisung out of the corner of your eye. He lifts his hips and squeezes himself over his pants. “We were fucking torturing you, holy fuck.”

“Mmmmrrgh,” is the approximate sound Felix makes. His eyes are partially-lidded, his expression one of immense concentration. He pulls your face back to him with a flick of his wrist. Appetent and quite demanding, he leads your mouth back onto him and holds you in place to shallowly and gently fuck your mouth. He makes a pleased sound, one of deep relief, his head lolling back and the tension leaving his shoulders.

You let him set the pace, matching the animal instinct that overcomes him. He stops himself when he’s close, breathing hard and stepping back. You want to ask if he is okay, but you have to flex your jaw and your voice is momentarily shot. Before you can find that voice, he turns to the curtain and says, “Show me what you did earlier. I want – I want to do that too.”

There is a quiet moment, Jisung maybe surprised at the sudden attention, but then the curtain parts and Jisung steps all the way through. He has unbuttoned his shirt to the navel, his partially unzipped pants doing nothing to hide the bulge behind his fly. The sight of him sets off more sparks, especially when he winks at you with all his cheeky wantonness.

Felix gives Jisung a once-over too, pushing a hand through his hair and steadying his breathing. His features look sharper than ever, darkened with a determined resolve. He says nothing when Jisung sweeps behind him. Jisung wiggles his eyebrows at you while he gathers Felix’s robe and slides it off his shoulders.

“She likes your freckles,” Jisung offers by way of explanation, smooching Felix’s freckled shoulder with a playful little mwah.

Felix tilts his head and looks at you. “Really?” he asks. “I can’t fully scrub them off the glamour. I think it’s somehow your fault.” This is aimed at Jisung.

“Everything’s my fault!” Jisung says with a great deal of pride.

“Why would you want to get rid of them?” you blurt, showing just as much as horror as you did when meeting the cannibal faerie. Felix without his freckles is equally abhorrent.

Felix looks at you, thoughtfully. Firelight is flickering over the room but you do not think it is a trick of shadow when his freckles seem to darken everywhere.

“Aw,” Jisung says. “He’s flirting.”

Felix looks at him with a certain degree of exasperation. “Show me what I asked,” he says.

“Oh, wow, okay, geez, pushy,” Jisung says, circling so he standing beside Felix. Felix drops the rest of the robe, evidently not the slightest bit shy to be standing there naked. Now your gaze is the roving one, jumping between them, darting upward when Jisung cups Felix’s face and turns it to him.

“You need to turn her on first, man,” Jisung says, swaying to the playful rhythm of his own voice. Felix follows, but his eyes narrow into judgemental slits. Jisung seems unbothered by this, standing still, tucking some hair behind Felix’s ear. “C’mooon,” he says, with an impatient little shoulder wiggle and a laugh. “She likes you… she likes me… as they say… badda bing badda boom…”

“I don’t think they say that during sex,” Felix says, frowning.

“He’s right,” you say, giggling.

Jisung sighs and looks at you. “No audience participation,” he says, miming a zip across his lips. “Just sit there and look pretty, baby. We’ll get to you.”

Felix looks at you. Jisung leans close to whisper in his ear. You try to decipher what he is saying based on Felix, but all Felix does is furrow his eyebrows then look sideways at Jisung. There is a moment of quiet, then they smile at the same time.

Felix delicately cups Jisung’s chin.

The last time you caught them kissing, it spurred only jealousy. But that was different. That was your childish reaction to exclusion, your own anxieties speaking over everything else. This time, you are not outside of their connection. You even swear you can feel the faintest tingling on your own lips when they gently come together in a feather-light kiss.

Their hands trace similar paths, Felix’s slipping into Jisung’s pants and Jisung touching him back. The kiss deepens until their tongues touch, then Jisung giggles while Felix grins. They look at you at the same time.

“Go,” Jisung says, nudging Felix forward.

They let go of each other and Felix climbs up on the bed, guiding you backwards until your head is on a pillow. Long tendrils of blonde hair brush your cheeks. He lays over you and kisses you, pressing your head into the cushion. Even lost in his kiss, you can sense Jisung with a fuzzy awareness. You recognize the familiar touch of his palm, his hand gliding up your inner thigh. Felix makes room, joining Jisung at your thighs. You twitch with an instinctive little jerk, pushing yourself up on your elbows to look at them. Jisung puts a finger over his lips and shushes you, smiling.

“We got it, we got it…” he says. He cups the back of Felix’s head and pushes his head down to your pussy.

Felix glances up at you, then him, then down. His eyes close and he sticks out his tongue, his expression one of the sweetest pleasure when he puts his mouth on you. What he lacks in skill, he compensates with eagerness, messily diving in with an open mouth, licking and kissing and making a mess of himself. Jisung threads his fingers into his hair and tugs, laughing a little.

“Easy, easy,” he says. He and Felix look at each other as Jisung lowers his own face. When he puts his expert mouth on you, your head falls back, thighs parting further. You throw your arms over your head and dig your fingers into the cushions. You chase the rhythm of his tongue, looking down when it stops, when Felix replaces him.

“See, look at her,” Jisung says. Felix looks up at you. “Just like that.”

Then Jisung joins him. They torturously alternate whose mouth is on you. Jisung dives at Felix, licking across his wet lips and kissing him before returning to you. You can hardly tell one mouth from the next, gasping under two tongues as they stroke you and each other, matching blonde heads bobbing in perfect coordination between your thighs. It is inhumanly perfect, so harmonious that it almost agonizing. This is how mortals lose their minds here, you think.

Eventually you are so wound up that you can’t help but cry out.

“Oh noo,” Jisung says, very unrepentant as lays beside you. “I think we were teasing her… That’s so mean of us, isn’t it, baby? Huh?” He pinches your face in his hand, cooing at you while you playfully glare. He giggles and kisses you, your own wet desire smeared across his lips. “You’re so wet, baby,” he says, sliding his hand down your body and over your pussy, easing his fingers through the wetness there. When you whimper, he whimpers back in faux sympathy, pouting and nodding. “I know, poor baby,” he says, curling his fingers inside you.

Felix’s eyes light up, watching. He props himself up on one hand and touches you with the other. You make a sound against Jisung’s mouth, a breathy moan as Felix slides his fingers in too. It’s thick, that many fingers at once and so suddenly. Your thighs jerk and you whine into Jisung’s mouth. You see stars when you close your eyes, their fingers moving at the same time inside you. They share a heartbeat, a rhythm, not faulting in the slightest.

For a moment, you just lay there and dizzily take it, stretched around their fingers, wet and silky hot and so turned on that you feel like you’re floating.

“Jisung,” Felix says in his rough, deep voice.

“I know,” Jisung replies, just as hoarse.

Their fingers leave you and Jisung grabs your throat with that same hand, slick fingers nudging your chin to look at him. Your breath catches and you think Felix’s breath catches too.

“That’s my girl,” Jisung says, reaching down at the same Felix reaches up, a hand on each breast, teasing the pebbled peaks. You squirm and Jisung returns his hand to your throat, smiling at you so innocently, scrunching up his eyes with delight. “Good girl,” he says, squeezing. Felix gasps then moans, sucking kisses wherever his mouth lazily roams. Jisung places those same hot kisses on your neck, each kiss landing one after the other, lighting every nerve. Teeth and tongue lave at your skin, no doubt bruising it with each little love bite.

“That’s it,” Jisung says, and you really start to think your human boyfriend is made of more magic than autumnal flurries. His dark eyes sparkle in the light, his mischievous smirk lighting up his handsome face. He is so giggly and sweet despite the dastardly torture of his hands and mouth.

You find yourself sinking into the sensations, eyes closed, body running on instinct.

“Felix,” Jisung says. His hand leaves your throat, sliding down your body. You realize he is spreading your pussy lips again, teasing as Felix pushes inside you. It is easy now that you have taken so many fingers, but the knowledge of what is happening, of who is fucking you, makes your breath stutter and eyes open.

“Ohh,” is the only sound you can make, watery eyes on where Felix is moving slowly in and out of you. His brow is furrowed again, that look of concentration, then he groans and all but sprawls on top of you, fucking you with messy abandon. Jisung thumps his head heavily onto the cushion, panting heavily, as if he was fucking you.

“Felix, you gotta—” Jisung says, his own face twisted up with a tortured sort of pleasure. Felix does not listen to him, still rocking his hips with a frantic unevenness. It feels good and crazy and wild, your head lolling to the side, a hum in your throat.

Jisung finds the resolve to push himself up, groaning with the effort. You watch him roughly manhandle Felix, yanking his head up to get him to concentrate. Felix’s eyes flash gold then go dark. His mouth is hanging open and his cheeks are flushed. He never stops moving.

“And you said I was impatient,” Jisung murmurs, grabbing Felix’s hips and evening out his rhythm. You suppose it stands to reason that if Jisung is the most pussy-drunk man you have ever known, than Felix would be too. Except Felix actually is magic, and everything about Jisung seems to multiply in Felix. He looks completely overcome. Then Jisung suddenly asks, “Good tears or bad?”

“Good,” Felix rasps.

“So you wanna keep going?”

“Ye-es,” Felix hiccups, then suddenly starts crying, all the messy human-ness mixing with his confusing faerie-ness, coming together in an explosive physical and emotional mania that has him burying his face in your neck and fucking you so deep and hard that your own sniffles start.

“Yes,” you say at the same time as him, wrapping your arms around his neck. Jisung touches your hand, his other still guiding Felix’s hips. Felix moans in your throat then marginally turns his head.

“Jisung,” he says. “I can’t—unless you—”

Jisung very unceremoniously shoves a hand down his pants, then looks up at you and smiles.

“Okay,” Jisung says. He moves and Felix sinks back inside you, moaning deeply, clutching you possessively. You hold him back as fiercely, blinking up at Jisung when kneels near your face. “Come on, baby,” Jisung says, his thumb tugging at your bottom lip.

“Yes,” Felix says, nodding at him and at you.

You open your mouth, nodding at Jisung. His pants get tossed somewhere and he removes his shirt at the same time his dick pushes past your lips. They really do fuck with an extraordinary identicalness, perfectly matched without a word. It is easy to fall into their rhythm, not even straining. You feel like you were born to be here, between them, sharing them, sharing yourself with them.

They come at the same time, Felix with his cheek pressed to yours, Jisung with his head thrown back. They lay down on either side of you, flopping back at the same time. Felix has a completely dazed look on his face, his breath stuttering when you tuck some of his sweaty hair back. He looks at you like he is seeing you for the first time all over again.

All three of you exhale at once. The resulting giggle comes in three-way unison too.

“Wow,” Felix finally says. “It’s much more fun like this.”

“Hell yeah,” Jisung says, holding out his fist for a bump. You swat it down before Felix can return it. Jisung just laughs, snuggling up to you.

Felix also rolls onto his side. He tucks one hand under his head and touches your face with the other. You and Jisung both look at him, his faraway stare, the way a small smile unfurls on his face.

“You’re mine now,” he says. “Forever. Yeah?” It’s posed like a question but evidently it is already fact to him, or he could not say it.

“Forever and ever,” Jisung says easily, stretching out on the royal bedsheets like he has always belonged there.

Felix looks at you for an answer too, still smiling. You are not as easy as Jisung, but you try hard not to overthink.

But you remember so many stories of humans wandering in the faerie world, never seen or heard from again, the tales of their disappearances ranging from beautiful to horrifying. You think it would be impudent to think yourself different or better than them. They thought they were safe too.

The question tumbles past your lips before you can think twice:

“Your true name,” you say. “Would you still give it to me if I asked?”

He clearly does not expect the question. He blinks quickly, then his gaze darts to the side. You look there to see Jisung nodding off, already half-asleep on your shoulder. Felix is not sleeping. You look at him, wondering still about the sometimes contradictory depth of their connection.

“Aren’t you tired too?” you ask.

“A little,” he says.

You realize he didn’t answer your other question and you open your mouth to ask again. He kisses you, cupping your face, making a happy sound when you kiss him back. Jisung makes his own little happy sound, sighing on your shoulder.

“I love you,” Felix says, speaking soft and low against your lips. He strokes the side of your face. “I want you to stay with me forever.”

“You’d really tell me your true name?” you ask.

“I’d do anything for you,” he says. “I love you.”

“I love you too, Felix,” you say, about to say more when he kisses you again. He smiles so big and bright, it crinkles the corner of his eyes.

“You do,” he says. “That’s the truth. You love me like you love him.”

“It’s the same but different,” you say. “Like how you love both me and Jisung.”

He is still smiling. He kisses the corner of your mouth sweetly. “The same but different,” he says. “Yes. I understand.”

He draws you into his arms and kisses the crown of your head, sighing a happy sigh. Jisung curls up behind you, already fast asleep while Felix murmurs sweet love confessions at you until you fall asleep too, nestled tightly and safely in his arms.

#skz smut #stray kids smut #lee felix x reader #han jisung x reader #lee felix smut #han jisung smut #skz x reader #stray kids x reader #faerie au

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aphroditelovesu · 6 months ago

Text

The Lost Queen - XIV

— summary: You woke up near a military camp without remembering how and why you got there, you didn’t understand why they were dressed like ancient Greeks, all you knew was that you weren’t safe and you needed to get out of that place as soon as possible. Too bad for you that you found yourself attracting unwanted attention from the Macedonian King and he won’t let you go so easily.

— genre: yandere, dark!au.

— warnings: time travel, obsessive and possessive behavior, murder, mention of torture, kidnapping, angst, fluffy (very rarely), dub-con, possibly smut.

— pairing: yandere!alexander the great x female!reader, yandere!generals x female!reader.

— word count: 3,040.

— tag list: @devils-blackrose, @faerykingdom, @hadesnewpersephone, @mariaelizabeth21-blog1 , @kadu-5607, @zoleea-exultant, @borntoexplore11-blog, @silmawensgarden, @elvinapandra.

— the lost queen series masterlist.

Chapter 14

It had suddenly started raining. A good omen, you thought, but when you heard the screams outside your tent you realized that it wasn't for the Persians.

As the raindrops fell from the sky, you moved restlessly inside your tent in the Persian war camp. Your anxiety and stress levels were high and you were afraid that this could affect your pregnancy.

The conversation with Darius and Bessus — you shuddered just remembering the last man, — hadn't been productive and you feared what that might mean. By now Alexander had probably already been notified of your disappearance and was going crazy.

Nothing good would come of Alexander's anger. You placed your hand on your stomach, on your not-yet-growing belly, and took a deep breath. You needed to calm down, all this stress wouldn't do you any good, it would only make you more anxious.

"Excuse me." You were startled when you heard a low voice with a strong Persian accent next to you. You looked at the owner of the voice and relaxed when you saw that it was Bagoas, the eunuch. His footsteps — was that him? You weren't sure — were really silent.

Darius had assigned this eunuch to you as your servant, in this case, personal slave, during your time here. Bagoas would be perfect to satisfy your wishes, the King had said. You felt like slapping him. You didn't need a slave and you didn't want one. Even in Alexander's camp you refused to keep slaves but rather free servants to serve you.

You nodded, waiting for him to continue talking. Bagoas kept his gaze down, not daring to look at your face. He was a slave, you remembered. And like all slaves he was trained to be submissive, not to look free people in the eye.

Your heart ached remembering this, remembering that slavery was common and accepted. That what they did to Bagoas and many others was natural.

Bagoas spoke softly, "Do you need anything?" His voice had a very strong Persian accent but you understood him perfectly.

You shook your head, "No thanks, Bagoas. I'm fine."

Bagoas nodded and silently moved to leave, until you called out to him.

"Bagoas?" You called his name, "I'd like to ask you a few questions, if that's okay with you."

Not that he had a choice, you mentally cursed yourself.

Bagoas nodded slowly and stood in front of you. You pointed to a chair next to you, silently telling him to sit down. Bagoas did as he was told.

''You...'' You started to say, but realized you didn’t know what you really wanted to say. Realizing this, you shifted uncomfortably in your seat. Bagoas, in turn, remained quiet.

You cleared your throat and tried again, ''Would you like some wine or water?''

Bagoas blinked slowly at your request, clearly surprised. He nodded slowly after a few minutes of being completely still. You smiled and took the pitcher of wine and poured it into a cup for him, who hesitantly accepted the cup.

"It's not poisoned." You joked softly, trying to lighten the mood.

Bagoas glanced at you lightly and you could see something amusing sparkle in the eunuch's dark eyes. He raised the cup to his lips and took a sip of wine, his eyes fixed on his feet. You smiled lightly and drank some water.

"Would you like something to eat, Bagoas?" You asked, pointing to a silver tray that held cheese, bread, and a piece of honey cake. Bagoas looked at the tray and shook his head.

You frowned. Bagoas was thin, very thin.

"Are you sure? The honey cake is delicious." You tried again but the eunuch just denied it.

"I thank you but no, your Majesty." Bagoas said, his eyes never meeting yours.

"I understood." You sighed and decided there was no reason to say anything, "You're dismissed then."

Bagoas placed the cup on the small table and bowed gracefully to you and silent as he had entered, he left.

You leaned back in your chair, rubbing your sore neck. You closed your eyes but opened them quickly when the tent flap was lifted and you locked eyes with the intruder.

Perdiccas.

"What do you want?" You practically growled, not bothering to try to be polite.

Perdiccas frowned and sat down next to you, "I have news, my love."

You tried not to make a disgusted expression when he called you “my love”.

"And what would that news be?" You asked uninterested. Perdiccas grabbed your hand and squeezed it gently. You frowned at his boldness.

Perdiccas rubbed your fingers, "We are going to Babylon."

You choked on the water you were drinking and the cup was placed sloppily on the table.

"What?!" You questioned him, standing up quickly. Perdiccas didn't seem bothered by your outburst, however.

"We are going to Babylon." He repeated as if you were a child with a learning disability, "I talked to Darius and he agreed that it's safer for you than staying here."

"I am not going." You growled, not even bothering to try and contain your anger. You were tired of men trying to tell you what to do. It could be the custom, the normal thing at that time, but you weren't from that time and you didn't care anymore.

Perdiccas raised an eyebrow, "That's not your choice."

"You don't give me orders." You said confidently. Perdiccas seemed to be getting angry.

Good. That would make two of you.

Perdiccas grabbed your face with one hand and forced you to look into his eyes, "We're going to Babylon and that's final."

Before you could say anything, Perdiccas pressed his lips against yours violently, practically swallowing you. You gasped and tried to pull away but his touch kept you in place.

It was wrong and disgusting on so many levels to feel him kiss you again. At that time, you were desperate and wanted comfort and that's why you kissed him but now it felt wrong, not only because he was forcing you, but also because you didn't want him anymore. You didn't even notice when the attraction you felt for Perdiccas started to wane, you just knew it disappeared.

Now all that was left was a spark of what had once been your friendship. But did this friendship really exist?

When Perdiccas finally released you from the kiss, you noticed that his lips were slightly swollen and you shivered in disgust as you watched him lick them. Before you could think or say anything, you raised your hand and slapped Perdiccas across the face, the sound echoing through the tent.

Perdiccas' face turned to the side from the impact and you knew it hurt when he placed his hand where he had just hit and hissed in pain.

Good.

Perdiccas looked at you in disbelief. He looked at you as if he had seen a ghost and not the woman he knew.

"W-What happened to you?" He asked, still holding his hand over the area where he was hit.

You stared at him with contempt shining in your eyes.

"I happened." You said, your eyes narrowing as the words were spoken, "And don't you ever touch me again without my permission, understand?" Your words were harsh and one could feel the anger reflected in them. Perdiccas swallowed hard as if he had just had a divine revelation.

He finally noticed, you realized it. Perdiccas finally realized that you are no longer the desperate and terrified woman he had met a few months ago.

You were a Queen and you were starting to act like it.

Alexander's tent was eerily silent on that restless night. One might think that the great King was resting, but the flickering light of the flames danced across the walls of the tent, betraying the agitation that consumed him. Alexander found no peace, not while his beloved wife was missing.

The entire Macedonian camp shared his anguish. News of the Queen's kidnapping had spread like wildfire, plunging soldiers and officers into a mixture of fury and despair. No one dared to blame Alexander for his insomnia, as everyone knew that the emptiness next to him in bed was an open wound in his heart. He spent hours pacing back and forth, his troubled thoughts reflected in the flickering shadows the flames cast.

Inside the tent, the atmosphere was filled with tension. Maps and parchments were spread out on the table, fingerprints and wax stains bearing witness to long nights of planning and worrying. The heavy curtains that bounded the space swayed gently in the night breeze, but they failed to carry away the feeling of helplessness that permeated the air.

Every sound outside the tent, whether the distant noise of the watchmen or the low murmur of the soldiers on watch, seemed to amplify Alexander's inner silence. His eyes, fixed on the flames, burned with the determination of a man who would not allow his wife to remain a captive any longer. The King of the Macedonians was prepared to move heaven and earth to bring her back, and everyone who knew him knew that nothing would stand in her way.

The entire Macedonian camp reacted with deep consternation to the news of the Queen's kidnapping. The atmosphere, already tense due to the nature of the military campaigns, became even more charged with discontent and suspicion, especially among Perdiccas' men. These soldiers, in particular, were disgusted by their general's actions. How could Perdiccas betray everyone's trust by kidnapping the Queen? By committing such an act, he not only condemned himself, but also cast a shadow of distrust on his subordinates.

The growing distrust between Perdiccas' men and the other soldiers in the camp was palpable. Loyalty, a fundamental pillar of the Macedonian army, was seriously shaken. Alexander had established that any fight between soldiers would be punished by death, a drastic measure to maintain order and discipline. However, the ban seemed to be ignored. Physical conflicts broke out with alarming frequency, and punishments were equally frequent, but they failed to stem the tide of violence and resentment.

The situation reached a critical point when even two of the most prominent generals came into conflict. Hephaestion and Craterus, known for their skills and loyalty to the King, became involved in a fight that shocked the camp. The details of the incident were hazy, but the essence of the conflict seemed clear: Craterus blamed Alexander for the Queen's kidnapping, a serious accusation that infuriated Hephaestion. He, in an effort to defend the honor of his friend and King, confronted Craterus, but the fight only served to increase anxiety and chaos among the troops.

The tension in the camp was almost palpable. Each soldier knew that the unit was crucial to the survival and success of their campaigns, but the shadow of Perdiccas' kidnapping and betrayal put everything at risk. Uncertainty about the Queen's future and safety hung over everyone, exacerbating the tension and making each day more difficult to bear.

The other generals were also overcome with fury at the betrayal. Cleitus, who had now recovered well although he was still too weak to fight, personally wanted to ride a horse with a group of soldiers and scouts to search for the Queen. However, Alexander did not allow it, which resulted in a heated argument that had to be ended by Ptolemy.

Hephaestion spent most of his time at Alexander's side, desperately trying to calm his friend. He was rarely seen outside the King's tent these days, his loyalty and concern evident in his every gesture. Ptolemy, on the other hand, stood out for his calm and rationality. Although he was also deeply upset by the Queen's kidnapping and Perdiccas betrayal, he tried to keep a cool head, aware that one more angry mind would not help anything.

Cassander was equally furious, but he controlled his words carefully so as not to say something that could get him killed. The tension made him clench his fists and grind his teeth, but he knew he needed to maintain his composure. Parmenion and Philotas, in turn, maintained a facade of indifference. They didn't show much concern or emotion in public, but everyone knew that deep down, they cared deeply. The Queen had won their sympathy and respect, and the apparent coldness was just a mask to hide genuine concern.

The camp was on the verge of emotional collapse. Every decision, every word, carried weight. The generals knew they needed to remain united and focused, but the shadow of the kidnapping hung over everyone, making any semblance of normality difficult.

Something needed to be done, and Alexander knew it. He had plans, detailed and strategic plans, and he was determined to carry them out above all else. His mind worked incessantly, tracing every movement, every step necessary to rescue his Queen and punish the traitor.

Inside his tent, Alexander prepared himself. His eyes, burning with a mixture of pain and fury, reflected the intensity of his determination. He knew that once he got his hands on Perdiccas, nothing would stop him. Perdiccas would pay dearly for his betrayal.

Alexander was willing to do anything to get his Queen back, to get you back. The thought of you being in danger tormented him, and he would not rest until you were safe by his side again. He summoned his generals, outlined his strategies and prepared his troops, ensuring that each soldier knew the importance of the mission.

With each passing moment, Alexander's resolve solidified. His leadership, fierce and relentless, galvanized the Macedonian army. The search for the Queen was not just a military operation; it was a rescue mission that touched every soldier's heart. Everyone knew that under Alexander's leadership they would be relentless in their pursuit and punishment of Perdiccas.

As the camp buzzed with preparation, Alexander remained focused. Nothing would divert him from his goal. He would do anything, face any obstacle, to bring his beloved Queen back. And when he finally rescued you, justice would be done, and Perdiccas's betrayal would be avenged with all the fury of a betrayed king.

The night was cold and silent, very silent. The rain from earlier had made the air colder and not even the heavy fur clothes seemed to contain the cold outside.

But you thought it was because most people had already gone to sleep, only you were awake and getting ready to leave the Persian camp.

You sighed and looked around, noticing some guards and servants tidying up everything. You sat down on a rock and tried to contain the excitement that was growing inside you. A part of you was furious with the events, especially with what had happened between you and Perdiccas earlier, but the other part was excited at the prospect of seeing a historic place in person, of seeing Babylon at its height.

You just didn't expect it to be like this. You were a hostage and you knew a lot could go wrong. You closed your eyes and took a deep breath.

"A kiss for your thoughts." You opened your eyes when you heard a voice. You sighed as you realized it was Aslan— or whatever he really called himself — talking to you.

"What do you want?" You asked, adjusting your robes.

Aslan frowned and said sarcastically, "In a bad mood, cara mia?"

"Just tired." That wasn't a lie, not completely. You were exhausted and couldn't sleep well at night with everything that was going on.

"Hmm..." Aslan murmured and sat down next to you, looking at the night sky, "I heard about what happened in your tent with Perdiccas today."

You gave him a sideways glance, ''Leave it alone.''

Aslan shook his head and you could swear there was barely contained anger on his face, "No, I won't let it alone. That wasn't right... Him forcing himself on you like that." The way his words seemed sincere took you by surprise.

You raised an eyebrow and glared at him, ''And do you care?''

"I'm not the bad guy here, (Y/N)." Aslan said and you scoffed, "Despite what you may think, I genuinely care about you."

"Care about me?" You laughed darkly, "If you care about me, then why the hell did you bring me here? What's the point of all this?!"

Aslan sighed, "You'll understand eventually. Now is not the time for you to know the truth, but..." He took your cold hand and rubbed it, trying to warm you up, "I promise I'll take care of you."

You couldn't help how your body shivered at his words. You found yourself watching him closely, his attractive features. Aslan was a handsome man, you finally realized, and although you didn't trust him, there was something about him that attracted you.

He seemed familiar to you somehow.

Aslan brought his face closer to yours and you felt your heart beat faster. He brought his lips to your ear and whispered, "I promise I'll make him pay for laying his hands on you."

You closed your eyes, feeling strangely warm inside at his words, at the promise in them. Aslan's words brought you comfort, something you hadn't felt in a while.

He smiled and kissed your cheek lovingly, "I need to go. I have things to do but I'll take care of you." Aslan let go of your hand and stood in front of you, he placed his hand on your face and lifted your chin, making you look into his dark eyes.

You couldn’t look away and you didn’t want to. Aslan rubbed your chin and brought his face closer to yours, his lips brushing yours, he said, "I promise I will always take care of you."

The frigid night air didn't seem so cold anymore as Aslan's words were heard by you over and over again. You were standing still, not knowing how to react, just watching him walk away from the camp.

There was a lot to be discovered, you realized. Maybe Babylon had the answers you needed.

— lady l: a calmer chapter but that's because chapter 15, which I'm already writing, will be more chaotic. Aslan is a complex character but does he care about Reader? That leaves the doubt... 👀

I hope you liked it, forgive me for any mistakes and this week I'll release the next chapter! Unti thenl!! ❤️

#the lost queen #tlq #history #yandere historical characters #x reader #alexander the great x reader #yandere alexander the great #yandere alexander the great x reader #long fic #fanfic #yandere au #yandere history

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lirational · 7 months ago

Text

Bait

Eldritch AU Path to Nowhere inspired by this image.

Monster!Shalom x Reader

Warnings: Dark content, dubious consent, general monsterfuckery, implied breeding, questionable anatomy, questionable science ethics or honestly ethics in general. DEAD DOVE: DO NOT EAT

SMUT UNDER THE CUT, MINORS DO NOT INTERACT

—

“It seems that they take a particular enjoyment to observing both of us.”

A statement, not a question. You were used to observing beings that are not of this world, captured by unknown means and now kept here to minimize their danger to the world at large. Monsters. You hesitate to call them that, as the term implies they were driven by familiar, animalistic instincts much like creatures of this world, while they seem to operate less on instinct and more on an unfathomable logic that you, and most human beings, lack the capacity to comprehend, a phenomenon which you and everyone here would witness whenever any of them deigned to entertain themselves with your reactions.

Perhaps, you should count yourself lucky that even after the higher ups captured them and shoved them in this facility designed as a cage, most of them were willing to adapt to parameters acceptable to humans. You’ve seen the ease of which some of them ruin lives when agitated, remembering that hapless scientist who tried to debate S-087 about the true nature of the universe and ended up being a little less, ah, comprehensible after she witnessed a glimpse of something not meant to be seen. You shudder, lost in the thought of the fate of your colleague after that ordeal instead of entertaining the monster in front of you with a response—

A cold feeling interrupted your thoughts, slender fingers wrapping on your wrist as the monster directed your hand to touch her cheek. She was now only centimeters away from your face, her fingers playing with your hand as she asked, “Your thoughts seem to be wandering away. What is it in your expression, ah, penny for your thoughts?”

She paused, letting her words sink in. In that brief moment, the triangular symbol in her eye seemed to flicker and flash.

“I cannot say I like being treated as if I’m not present.”

“S-017, I only wanted to record more information about that World of Mania you mentioned. Your thoughts about the research procedure is irrelevant,” you answer, the fake detachment all too evident to you. A part of you dislike treating her in such a cold manner, but this was one of the most basic things they drilled in your training manual. They are not people, there is no need to treat them as such, and don’t show your fear to them, for they might - and on occassions, have - take advantage of it.

“It’s Shalom,” she responded, her smile unfading, face close enough you could feel the warmth of her breathing. You have been warned about this, read the case files about how Sha— S-017 presents a veneer of perfection in each of her movements, and only when you pay very close attention you can see traces of her inhumanity. Every single part of her seems to be sculpted without flaw, from her porcelain skin to her doctored expressions, down to the vivid shade of maroon hair that faded into white as they tickled your skin and pooled on your lap from your proximity. Some of your colleagues have theorized that her perfection was meant to lull, to decrease one’s wariness towards her and lure people’s eyes from her less human traits. About the only part of her that gives away her true nature was the triangle in her right eye, but you suspect that if she didn’t want to show that part of her, you won’t even know it was there. “Perhaps it is irrelevant to the scheduled questioning we’re having right now, but I’m sure you are familiar with scientific curiosity.”

In that moment, your senses tinged a little as cold, vivid blue invaded the edges of your vision. A warning? Even if Shalom didn’t mean it as that, you’d rather not push it into a situation where being smashed into bloody pulp is the least undesirable fate. Many of your colleagues have theorized that the creatures held here merely stayed because the facility provided a measure of entertainment or possess something they want, and if any of them has a shred of determination to escape, the facility would be gone without a trace in the time it took for you to blink.

“I’m sorry, Shalom, may I ask you to elaborate about the World of Mania you mentioned in our last session?” You indulged her.

“Mhm, that’s more like it,” she hummed, clearly pleased. “Sure, I don’t mind, maybe I’ll tell you later.”

In your overstuffed armchair, you could feel something slither onto you, her stare anchoring you in place as the foreign tendril slides up your leg. More joined to trace your arms, and you glance at the camera stationed nearby, wordlessly pleading for the scientist watching the whole thing to get up and get help. It didn’t take long for Shalom to use another of her tendrils as a lithe finger to tilt your chin back to her, drowning you into her unmoving stare, “I will tell you, but in exchange…” she let her words sink in for a moment, “Won’t you entertain me?”

There was no need to be a, well, rocket scientist to understand what she was getting at. Her words carried a certain cadence to it, and you squirm in response, your head turning to look at the camera to scream for help, the monster’s feelings be damned. However, she was faster, one tendril rubbing circles on your clothed clit, the other teasing your lips, before holding down your tongue to render your plea ineffective. For a moment, blue flooded your vision, and when it subsided, the space around you has been warped, the door out of this room buried behind layers and layers of walls as the space itself warped to form a dark, foreboding maze. Did they not see what happened to you? Did they decide to dispose of you as punishment for something you weren’t aware of—?

“Again, what is bothering you? Ah, let me guess, are you bothered by the eyes trained on us?”

“S-017, I’m not here to, in your words, entertain you. You’re crossing and breaking several— ah, facility rules we are both bound with,” your voice was shaking, the authority and distance you tried to imbue into it fading as you gulp at the feeling of another tendril slipping past the band of your undergarments to play at your shamefully wet core. Your back was pressed to the stuffed chair, your movements limited as the tendrils around your limbs started to tighten, not enough to hurt, but enough to disallow you from moving even an inch without her permission.

From your files, S-017 seemed to be the rational sort, and you hoped the appeal to her rationality would allow you to escape this horrifying predicament. Even as your body started to ache and quiver with need from Shalom’s teasing touches, you still have enough of a mind to remember that both of you are being watched and recorded. At least, you would buy another few precious seconds for the security squad to come barging in, hopefully distracting her—

“Frankly, your rules hold no relevance to me,” Shalom answered, mismatched eyes glancing at the direction of what seemed to be a wall she erected herself by warping the space. “I’m sure you are familiar with the concept of bartering, hm? You get information, and I get a little bit of entertainment while I’m cooped in here. It’s a win-win for both of us, hm?”

Each word from her lips seem to infuse the air itself, thickening each breath you take in and eroding your reason to stoke your desire. Shalom stood up, taking a step back while she snapped her fingers, engulfing the chair you sat on with a gelatinous substance before the object disappeared into the darkness. Now, you were only held up by her tendrils, helplessly hung in the air as she drank in your appearance. Four more tentacles, two sliding out from somewhere on her back and the others from behind her legs, move towards you and made quick work on your clothes, the articles left to drop in a haphazard pile on the floor.

“I’m not here for you, or anyone else to have sex with. I will forward the request for approval to the facility if you want something of that nature, but—“

In that moment, the symbol on her right eye seems to bore right into your soul, then she stroked your cheek, voice soothing, tickling the air and making you gulp. Was it fear or anticipation? You could no longer be sure. “What got you so frightened? You will not share the fate of your colleagues, or come back as anything else but a normal, living person. Does it count as killing you a little if you come back out perhaps a bit exhausted?” She mused, practiced amusement sliding into her tone. “Don’t worry, I’ll make it pleasurable for you, too.”

Another couple of tendrils engulfed her clothes, and you were left with the sight of her naked body. Just how many did she hide behind that human appearance of hers? Regardless, like what you had always seen, every part of her was sculpted to perfection, any blemish and flaw hidden, or perhaps, she never allowed any to mar her. A few of your colleagues had theorized she made her own body, or perhaps, stole one from an unsuspecting person before she came to be imprisoned in the facility, but regardless, S-017 - Shalom’s perfectionism was well-known among your fellow researchers, to an unsettling degree.

“Does this body appeal to you?” The question snapped you out of your own reverie, not helped as she emphasizes her words with a rough pinch on your nipples. She sounded amused, sitting on thin air propped with her own alien limbs. This was the first time you had ever gotten a proper look of them, the tendrils starting with a vivid maroon of her hair, before fading to white and glowing in a bright, luminescent blue at the tips.

“Answer me,” she demanded, tendrils forcing you to look at her eyes. A lulling blue glow flooded your vision for a moment, and when it fades, your mind felt hazy, cloudy, your inhibition loosening as approval tumbled down from your lips. It felt good, it felt good as she smiled, and at least, even if the facility won’t send anyone, you can take comfort in the fact that the monster before you seem to be fond enough of you. The limbs propping you up shifted and made you lean forward, ass up in the air, another tentacle invading your puckered hole, only leaving your mouth free.

“Service me, and I’ll see that you’re returned, more or less unharmed.”

Accompanied with a flash of blue in your vision, her order seeped into your mind in a more direct way compared to a verbal command, an easy pleasure invading your body as you leaned as close as she allowed you, to the dripping slit between her legs. Hesitation screamed at the edge of your thoughts, yet, you could no longer process it, your tongue lapping at her with the fervor rivalling one induced by addiction. Your reward came in the form of pleasure as the tendrils nestled inside you start to move in tune with your movements, brushing that spongy spot while unnatural glee washed all over your body. It was as if each of the monster’s words carry a hidden reward, one that would be released as flashes of happiness as you obeyed her.

As your climb ever closer to your peak, Shalom released two more tendrils from her back, covering your eyes until all you could feel, could hear, could taste, was her, her moans of pleasure that sends happiness jolting straight into your quivering body, and the feeling of her tendrils invading deep, deep into you as if to prevent you from knowing, perceiving anything else. In the darkness, your senses felt sharper, each brush becoming tenfold in its intensity as you felt yourself thrown and engulfed in the throes of pleasure.

Everything was heightened, sharper. As you reached that sweet release, you tasted her release right at the same time, only for it to be snatched in an instant as you taste the monster’s lips on yours. You were far too distracted, unaware as foreign objects settled deep in your body, only feeling the oddity for a moment before you were dragged back to feel the full force of pleasure. She swallowed your screams, leaving you dripping, out of breath, and hung suspended in the air as the tentacles covering your eyes start to shift away, allowing you your sight again, to see Shalom looking especially pleased with herself. In contrast to the mess you were in, she had already dressed herself, no proof of the pleasure you had shared could be seen on her.

A contrast to your messed-up state.

While propping you up, she lowered you and let you stand, and in a flash of blue in your vision, you were already dressed.

“That completes the deal, as for my end—“

A tentacle probed into your head, not at all painful, yet there was a strangeness to it that you couldn’t put your finger on. As it reached a part of your mind, you saw images, information engraved directly into your memories. It felt like an eternity before she released her hold on you, and when she did, the room has returned to its prior state, no trace of the maze in sight.

“Huh…?” You mumble, dumbfounded. “Did no one see that, or was that just a—“

“Dream? Of course not, they have been pretty busy, I might add, but they can’t reach both of us in the corner of an ever-shifting maze. I would estimate it will take them around a century to find the exit, if they keep searching the entire time,” Shalom smiled at your dumbfounded expression, “Don’t worry, once you open that door, they’ll be transported back somewhere in this building. After all, I want you to be able to come back here without suffering any consequence, but…”

Her smile turns hungry.

“Come back in time, otherwise, you’ll be in for quite an amusing experience, alright?”

#path to nowhere #path to nowhere x reader #ptn x reader #path to nowhere headcanons #ptn shalom x reader

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strangefa11 · 4 days ago

Note

This question may have a more obvious answer because I don't remember a lot of TMA.

How did Tim and Danny end up in Jon and Martin's care? What was their adjustment period like?

Furthermore, what was Jon and Martin's adjustment period like after ending up somewhere new? Do either of them have any of powers from their previous life?

Sorry if these are too much. I just really like your AU 😅

it’s not too much at all!! This did turn out super long though so there’re some details I had to skip… oops… but anyway I tried to go in chronological order. I hope this answers your questions tl;dr at the end :3

Okok so after MAG 200 Jon and Martin arrive somewhere else along with the fears. Their bodies come with them, so still have all their scars and marks (and also Jon is bleeding out lol). The somewhere else they end up in is similar to their original universe in some ways but also very different in others, for instance the Magnus Institute doesn’t exist. Because of the differences the fears also manifest differently than they used to, almost exclusively as (mostly) physical monsters rather than the more insidious metaphysical presence that they have in the podcast. Also no Leitners but I think that’s more because the fears only just arrived so they haven’t had time to appear yet (hint hint).

Jmart still have their connections to their entities as well as their abilities but those are also different, they focus more on the physical aspects of the entities as well. Jon isn’t omniscient anymore, he still Knows things occasionally but in general his abilities are a little more related to watching than archiving (the reason for that is an explanation all on its own so I’ll skip it for now in the interest of not making this TOO long). He also heals from being stabbed pretty immediately but I think that’s more of a one time thing than a consistent ability afterwards.

Martin’s abilities are mostly more specifically centred around fog and physical isolation than emotional distance. They're also a lot weaker than Jon’s (another explanation I’ll save for later lol)

They manage to get themselves together and get jobs and a home etc etc the specifics of all that don't really matter. They meet Tim a few years later while he's being chased by a monster (I think it's probably a Dark monster). They save him (Jon melts it or something).

Through talking to Tim they learn a few things 1) he’s definitely the somewhere else version of their Tim Stoker 2) he’s in foster care with his brother 3) he encountered the monster after sneaking out. After learning these things Jmart naturally do the responsible adult thing and help him sneak back into the house after making him promise not to sneak out again.

Obviously Tim wants to know more about the monster that tried to eat him so after some convincing they tell him he can visit them at the library Martin works at.

Tim starts visiting them semi-regularly, sometimes Danny comes along. Jmart tell him a little about the fears but not about their past at first. Eventually they learn from Tim that the foster home isn't great. It’s not outright abusive but the couple is very conservative christian and it’s just not a good fit. Tim doesn’t want to move, though, because he’s worried he and Danny will be separated.

They don't actually adopt Tim and Danny until after they’ve already gotten to know them fairly well, and they start with fostering them. So the adjustment period is a little more natural. I will say they definitely get to know and bond with Tim a lot faster than Danny. Danny definitely follows Tim’s lead though so he’s more inclined to trust them when he sees that his big brother likes them.

There’s a bunch more I could say about the specifics of the fear mechanics in the new world and the details of Tim and Danny’s history but this is already way longer than I planned so I’m gonna cut it here for now :’)

TL;DR: The fears are a little different in the new universe but Jmart do still have their fear abilities, they rescue Tim from a monster and eventually adopt him and Danny from their less than ideal foster home.

#stay somewhere else #jonathan sims #martin blackwood #tim stoker #danny stoker #the magnus archives #nonsense #strange answers

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imfoive · 4 months ago

Text

Crystal Bird - Chapter 1

Crown Prince! Chan x Princess (fem.) Genre: Royal au! Angst, Romance, Historical, hidden identity, slow-burn Warnings: mentions of blood, war, death, cursing, somewhat proofread WC: 6.3k A/N: First few chapters focus on childhood so a little slow paced (I like to ramble). Based on a dream. Feedback is always welcome, enjoy! ── MASTERLIST

Synopsis: The Crown Prince is saved by the Princess of a rival kingdom, and he swears his second life to his savior. A forbidden friendship no one knew of, grows deeper with every secret meeting. As the two are kept apart, memories of their sunset playdates by the serene river, begin blossoming into something beautiful. Cheeks blushed, stomach butterflies fluttered at the thought of each other. Years of yearning and imagining had only made them crave a sweeter reunion. And finally meeting at a Royal banquet, he could only stare at the now grown Princess, taken by her beauty, while she only watches as he gives his heart to the wrong princess.

Missed a chapter? - Prologue /

CHAPTER 1 ───────────────────

The Kingdom rejoiced with the birth of the First Princess. For three days, the realm erupted in celebrations—a riot of colors, music, and festivities that swept through every corner. Processions honoring the arrival of a long-awaited princess. Princess Sienna, the first daughter to the King and Queen of Elysium. Sister to the nation’s crown prince.

How joyous.

Yet, the next day marked a stark contrast. Amongst the revelry, In a quiet chamber, the King's second daughter, Princess Y/N, entered the world almost unnoticed. Born of the King's mistress, her arrival lacked fanfare or ceremony. While the main palace buzzed with activity and gifts for Princess Sienna, little attention was spared for the second princess.

Princess Y/N's fate seemed sealed—to live in the shadows of the first princess.

The Elysium Kingdom, known for its intricate politics and noble traditions, applauded scholarly pursuits and thrived in trade. Despite its guarded stance towards neighboring realms, Elysium stands as a land of prestige and refinement. However, its greatest rivalry lie right next to them, posing as the Kingdom's greatest threat.

The Kingdom of Nightshade, ruled by the Bahng Clan.

Like its name, it was mysterious and whispers of its dark origins spread far and wide. They say that The Nightshade Kingdom had ancient ties with wolves. Their nature seems to elude as such, with tactics that mimic the beasts of the night, yet effectively defending against threats from all directions. Shroud in it's own darkness, and nestled within expansive mountains and lush landscapes, it was known for its formidable defenses and healing arts.

The Bahng Clan had led the empire for five hundred years. Once the most powerful nation, before some hundreds of years ago, a rebel had raised an army and conquered the land past The Grand Forest.

That rebel was the first Elysium King.

So it was of no surprise that there was animosity between these two kingdoms with drastic differences. Despite past attempts at wars ending in failure, dark times for both realms, agreements for peace were made, spanning generations. Yet the underlying tensions never disappeared. These were fueled by historical grievances and their stark cultural differences.

Elysium prized intellect and social standing, viewing Nightshade's warrior culture and deep connection to nature as…primitive. In Nightshade, the highest honor one could achieve was to be recognized as a Nightshade Warrior—a protector and leader. Yet, Elysium's elite disdainfully labeled them "uncivilized" due to their rugged demeanor. The divide seemed insurmountable, leaving little common ground between the two nations.

The history of these tensions was deeply ingrained in the minds of the royal and noble children of the Elysium Kingdom. Princess Y/N, however, grew up pondering this divide and their tensions. She couldn't help but question: If both realms followed similar paths and valued similar ideals, wouldn’t they have been a single empire then?

The second princess had always been a curious one, full of questions. Unlike her sister, who basked in attention and privilege, Y/N spent her time in the sanctuary of books. Picking up random pieces of knowledge. She wandered the palace grounds unnoticed, finding solace in quieter corners where she could contemplate the world beyond the palace walls. As a young child, she loved sneaking away into the kitchens and cellars to steal desserts and cheese. Getting bolder and bolder before finding herself under palace walls.

Y/N was great at slipping away unnoticed.

Not that her presence seemed to make a difference anyway. The young girls at the tea parties paid little attention to her. And when they did, it was to learn more about her sister. As she matured, Y/N gradually became aware of the stark disparity in treatment between herself and Princess Sienna. While Sienna effortlessly commanded attention and affection, Y/N observed from the sidelines, overshadowed by her sister's radiant presence. Sienna received everything she desired, and why shouldn’t she? She was second only to the Queen in importance, destined to lead women in society and set trends. Despite being pampered from birth, Sienna remained remarkably humble. She complimented her servants, greeted everyone with a cheeky smile and a booming voice, and adored her slightly younger sister.

Despite the stark contrast in their upbringing, Y/N harbored no resentment towards Sienna, finding solace in their occasional playful interactions. Sienna was oblivious to the disparities between them, while Y/N silently wrestled with envy, internalizing her feelings toward her sweet sister.

The Grand Forest stretched long and wide between the two kingdoms, its lush expanse often a buffer for the political tensions that defined Elysium and Nightshade. Somewhere in the middle, marked the border between the two rival nations. Within this strip of green, where trees stood tall and dense, and a river murmured its steady song, nobles from Elysium occasionally ventured for secluded picnics and gatherings.

On one such occasion, Princess Y/N observed her sister's birthday festivities unfold. The weather had been perfect for a tea party, and although it was not officially Sienna’s birthday, the other girls of noble families wanted to host a small gathering by the river in early celebration. Though they claimed it was to celebrate both princesses. Sienna, surrounded by friends and admirers, received gifts that sparkled with enchantment of jewels and trinkets, while Y/N received modest offerings.

Y/N did not complain, she was used to it, aware that she would probably get the things Sienna was not particularly fond of. Yet, as Sienna opened the small box and unveiled a delicate necklace—a crystal bird on a silver chain, Y/N's fascination stirred. The crystal’s iridescence captivated her, it's simplicity evoked charm. Her eyes lighting up in curiosity. Maybe it was the bright blue of the crystal. Or the fact that it was in the shape of a bird, almost three-dimensional. It was so small yet it made all the other girls “ooh” and “ahh” as it glimmered. It was something Y/N had never seen, and she wanted to feel the smooth silver of the chain in contrast to the stone. The bird dangled on the thin chain as Sienna’s maidservant clasped it around her neck, the young girl smiling widely in approval of the gift.

“Thank you, Lady Alyssa. It's absolutely beautiful.” Sienna exclaimed, radiant smile admiring the gift.

While Alyssa blushed shyly at Sienna’s words and the other girls encouraged her to continue opening gifts, Y/N's gaze remained fixed on the necklace. She longed to touch its smooth surface, to feel its weight against her palm. Her brows had narrowed and for the first time in a while, the envy she managed to contain, burst out a little.

As the distractions of the gathering carried on—a game of ring toss initiated, laughter echoing through the trees. A maid began putting away all gifts, and Sienna’s nanny watched joyfully as her young lady laughed about. Y/N had lost a few rounds in, and stood at the side, watching as yet another young lady let Princess Sienna win. The almost eleven year old sighs, eyes glancing around at the wildflowers growing everywhere. The sound of the water streaming down the river not too far off, was loud even from where they were.

Then Y/N’s gaze freezes, her eyes taking in the twinkling of the little thing on the ground.

The crystal bird.

Her heart raced with a mix of trepidation and curiosity. Could it be true? Had Sienna lost such a precious gift amidst the revelry? Her eyes darted to Sienna, to confirm whether Y/N was actually seeing correctly. Sure enough, Sienna’s neck was bare, the birthday gift no longer dangling in its spot.

It glimmered under the bright sun, as if it was calling her.

Y/N walked over with hesitant steps, while everyone was distracted with cheering for their center of attention. Her fingers picked up the small thing, finally getting a feel of its delicate craftsmanship in her hands.

It should have been enough, her curiosity should have subsided once she had felt it. She should have handed it back. Yet, unable to resist, Y/N slipped away into the forest, clutching the necklace—a clandestine act born of both fascination and envy.

The second princess was great at slipping away.

Meanwhile, deeper in the Grand Forest a young boy cursed under his breath. Mutterings and mumble of words he can only say in the presence of no one grew louder as he made his way down the rocky path. Frustration boiled within him, evident in his kicks at stones and the slashes of his makeshift stick he picked up along the way, against the underbrush.

“—Stupid teacher.” The boy muttered under his breath, kicking at dead leaves.

He’s scrawny and shorter than most boys his age, but it was clear from his attire that he came from a family well off. He walked through the forest with ease, as if he had been here many times. He glances towards the loud sound of the water flowing down the river, his brows narrowing.

The young boy was already thirteen, yet unlike most boys his age, he was still unable to do a lot of things. Though he swore none of it was his fault. It was always, “the water was too cold”, or “the sword was too heavy”. Or that he was prone to getting sick quickly.

“Prince Christopher!” Another voice broke through his thoughts, accompanied by the sound of rapid footsteps closing in.

His playmate and training partner, Han, appeared, panting heavily from the exertion of catching up. Christopher groans at the uninvited boy, his playmate less, training partner. Though, he was sure that this kid was put here to keep an eye on him and always be a pain in the butt.

“Your highness! We-we were told not to stray too far.” Han managed between breaths, his concern palpable as he surveyed their surroundings.

Aware of the dangers lurking beyond their borders, Han's worries escalated as they ventured deeper into this unfamiliar territory. But Christopher only rolled his eyes, attempting to deflect Han's tense words with a casual remark.

“How can you be out of breath already? Didn't you want to be my personal guard?”

Han straightened, a mix of frustration and duty knitting his brow, keeping the words he truly wanted to say on the tip of his tongue.

“We should not be here. Especially this deep into the forest.” He insisted instead, casting wary glances at the towering trees that obscured the sunlight.

“You can't just run off every time you're scolded, Your Highness.” Han added, his voice tinged with exasperation as he tried to reason with the prince.

“Whatever.” Christopher muttered dismissively, his irritation rose with a forceful jab of his stick against a nearby tree trunk.

His impatience grew, his mood darkening with each stomp into the unfamiliar wilderness while Han's concern escalated as he scanned their surroundings, a growing sense of unease knotting in his stomach.

He eyed the tall trees.

Wait. Where were they?

They didn't somehow cross over did they?

The thought lingered, fueled by a vague memory of a path they had taken—or rather he had chased after. A risky shortcut perhaps.

“No way.” Han muttered to himself, trying to dispel the rising anxiety.

He shook his head, attempting to regain his composure. But a rustle in the nearby bushes were enough to push him off his edge. Eyes widening, Han froze, gripped by a sudden fear that they had ventured too far—beyond the safety of Nightshade and into the precarious realm of Elysium.

What if they were discovered by Elysium soldiers?

What if Christopher, the Crown Prince of Nightshade, fell into enemy hands?

The consequences were dire, his mind racing through imagined scenarios of all the worst outcomes. A war would break out—and Han would have to fight only with the most basic training of a Nightshade warrior.

His thoughts spiraled, nearly overwhelming him with their intensity. Yet the Prince had vanished ahead, Han's anxiety peaked, and he couldn't contain a whispered exclamation.

“Ahhh! Yo-your highness!” Han called out, his voice trembling with urgency as he sprinted in the direction Christopher had taken, eyes darting frantically in search for the prince amidst the dense foliage.

The sky was a vibrant shade of blue, the sun shining brightly, reflecting beautifully off of the water that came down the river. The young prince prances from one stone to another, and as he neared the river's edge, the view of rushing water had him captivated. The notion of swimming—a skill he had yet to conquer—taunted him. He approached the water hesitantly, the temptation to prove himself nagged at him, pushing him to the peer down, where he tested its depth with tentative prods with the wooden stick.

“Swimming can’t be too hard.” Christopher muttered to himself, determination flickering in his eyes.

He was steadfast in doing something successful today. And he chose to master the skill of swimming.

What a brilliant idea.

Not.

He drank water.

Panic seized him as he struggled against the water's embrace, his stick lost to the rapid flow of the river, and fear gripping his heart. The currents, much stronger than he had imagined, were pulling him away. His hand instinctively grabbed onto a stone for dear life. The young boy began panicking, fighting for his life as he was forced to dunk under the cold water a few times.

“H-Help!” He choked out, his cry swallowed by the river's roar

He was going to die today. He was sure of it.

But of course he doesn’t. In his moment of peril, a figure emerged from the forest's shadows. A young girl, her voice ringing clear as she rushed to his aid

“Hold on! I've got you!” She shouted, determination etched across her features.

With a strength borne of urgency, she pulled Christopher to safety, her hands firm and reassuring. And after some struggle, both were on dry land. Christopher lay gasping, his body shivering from cold and fear. The girl knelt beside him, concern etched on her face as she patted his back gently, soothing his raw throat and chest, coughs not subsiding. His savior looks down at him in concern, towering over his drenched body. He’s unable to focus, staring at her through blurred vision. There’s water in his ears and he could barely make out what she was saying. Yet the loud shriek of someone in the distance was loud enough for him to catch.

In this fleeting moment, a distant cry shattered their tensioned tranquility, a desperate call for “Princess!” echoing through the forest. The girl's head snapped towards the sound, urgency igniting her movements once more as she turned to leave, glancing back to look at him before disappearing.

Christopher, left alone amidst the aftermath of his near-drowning, grasped at the grassy earth, clinging to solidity as he shivered and coughed. His fingers brushed against something—a cold, pokey, stringy object—and he clutched it instinctively.

Han, who looked already spooked, had almost screamed bloody murder when he stumbled upon his master in such a state.

“Pr-Prince!” Han's voice shattered the silence, his panic evident as he rushed to Christopher's side, his words tumbling out in a frantic rush.

Han’s eyes dart around and he’s able to connect the dots—the river and his drenching Highness. Now how would he explain this to his teacher? How would he explain to the King? Han looks back towards the direction he had come from, cursing under his breath.

He had stumbled upon a gathering of the Elysium nobles on his search for his prince, and was swiftly able to conceal his presence as he backtracked. The earlier screech had dart back here. His crazy thoughts were true and they had in fact managed to cross over somehow. On Elysium land. And they should not be staying here too long, unless they wanted to get caught.

“Don't… don't tell anyone.” Christopher pleaded weakly, his voice a whisper.

The urgency of their escape propelled Han into action. With Christopher barely conscious and shivering uncontrollably, Han lifted him onto his back, his resolve steeling against the weight of their situation.

“You’re going to be a warrior, Han. Don’t be scared.” He reassures himself, as he grunts to a stand with the prince dangling off of his body.

But Han was scared. The prince had fallen unconscious by now. His body was freezing and he was trembling. It also didn’t help that the plight back towards their side was a tricky one. Han's mind raced with the implications. They had breached the border, ventured too far into foreign territory. And of all days there had to be a Princess in the forest. The young boy makes a run for it. His already weak master was going to die at this rate.

Back at the riverbank, the cheerful atmosphere that had surrounded the ring-toss game now gave way to panic and concern, unfolding before Y/N's wide eyes. “Princess Sienna!”

The desperate cry from Sienna’s nanny pierced through the air, sending Y/N's heart hammering against her chest. The once bustling scene was now a whirlwind of concerned maids, frantic shouts, and splashing water. A guard emerged from the river, cradling Sienna in his arms, while attendants and her nanny rushed to her side. The other girls, who had moments ago been giggling and playing, were now in tears, calling out to their beloved princess.

Y/N's anxiety spiked, and without thinking, she grabbed hold of a nearby maid who was on the verge of tears herself.

“What happened?” Y/N's voice trembled with worry and fear, her eyes darting between the maid and the commotion surrounding Sienna.

The maid looked down at Y/N, her expression a mix of relief at seeing the second princess unharmed and fear for what had just transpired.

“Where did you disappear to, Princess? If something had happened to you too…” The maid's voice trailed off, her eyes wide with terror at the thought.

“Princess Sienna was looking for her Crystal Bird and she fell into the river.” The maid explained quickly, her words rushed and breathless.

Y/N's breath caught in her throat. The mention of the Crystal Bird made her stomach churn with guilt. She suddenly realized the necklace was no longer in her possession. Did Sienna's accident happen because of her? Was it her fault for taking the necklace into the forest?

Her mind raced with self-blame and worry, her hands trembling slightly as she processed the maid's words. ─────────────────────── Christopher’s eyes fluttered open to the familiar sight of the infirmary, its sterile smell mingling with the faint aroma of medicinal herbs. His head throbbed slightly, a reminder of his near-drowning experience. His training teacher and meticulous captain of the guards, Sir Elliot, stood beside him, concern etched on his usually stern face.

“Prince Christopher!” His teacher ran at his side, eyes looking down at the boy in concern.

Christopher blinked, trying to piece together the events that led him here. Memories of struggling in the river flashed before him.

“I’ll go notify King Bahng.” The healer darted out of the room, leaving Christopher and Sir Elliot in tense silence.

Christopher’s gaze met his teacher’s, noticing a rare softness in Sir Elliot’s expression.

“You scared us, kid.”

Christopher felt a pang of guilt. Normally, his teacher was quick to criticize and push him relentlessly. Today was different—his teacher’s concern was genuine. The same man that the young prince has been cursing all day.

The door swung open abruptly, revealing the imposing figure of King Bahng, his face etched with relief. He rushed to Christopher’s side, enveloping him in a fatherly embrace.

“My boy.” King Bahng sighs.

Christopher’s guilt intensified. All day, frustration had clouded his mind, directed at those around him who now stood here with nothing but care and concern.

“Where’s Han?” Christopher asks, pulling out of his father’s hug.

King Bahng’s expression darkened briefly as he glanced at Sir Elliot.

“He’s being punished for letting him fall into danger, my king.” The teacher explains

Again, guilt gnawed at Christopher. He realized the weight of his actions—not just the danger he had put himself in, but the repercussions for those around him.

After ensuring Christopher was out of immediate danger, King Bahng left the infirmary, casting a lingering look at his son who was always a breath away from a tantrum.

King Bahng was not the tyrant his reputation suggested. He ruled with care for his people, respected by his subjects despite his clan’s fierce history. Christopher, his only son and heir, had been shielded closely until recent years. But per the late Queen’s wishes, the father held back on pushing Christopher into his duties. Losing his mother early had hardened the young prince against affection, a fact that weighed heavily on his father's heart.

“Brother.” Sir Elliot places a hand on his shoulder, bringing the King out of his thoughts.

They walked the corridors in silence before the King spoke.

“What happened today could have been dangerous. That boy had failed to prevent The Prince from endangering himself.” The King let’s put a deep breath,

“But he also did his duty of bringing him back to safety. Don’t be too harsh on him.” The King advises.

“Do not worry, Your Majesty. His punishment is modest. My son is overseeing that he is receiving it diligently.” Elliot reassured with a nod.

The King raises a brow, looking at his brother in wonder.

“You mean your ten year old son?”

“Even at such a young age he takes after me.” The training master hums, his pride evident as they walk, proud that his son already embodied the values of duty and discipline instilled in him.

Meanwhile, in the quiet of the training grounds, Han’s strained expression belied the punishment he endured. The young boy, overseeing him, groaned with boredom.

“You can take a break. I’ll make sure Father doesn’t find out.”

“Prince Felix, you’re supposed to be watching over me. Not encouraging me to slack off.” Han sighed, muscles trembling from the wall-sits.

Felix kicks at the dirt, sitting down on the wooden chair he had been in for the past hour while he supervises. His butt hurt and the evening brought cold winds, making the child shiver.

“Wall-sits are stupid.” He mumbles rather unenthusiastically.

“How is His Highness’ health? Have you heard anything?” Han asks, looking up from his hovering position.

“How would I know? No one tells me anything.” Felix grunts, crossing his arms over his chest.

Clearly a little upset the two older boys went out for an adventure without him (which was probably a good thing seeing the result). The sight of him is enough to prove that he was indeed Christopher’s cousin.

Their banter was interrupted by an aide from the infirmary rushing toward them, with Prince Christopher trailing behind, warmly dressed.

“Chris!” Felix exclaims, his small body jumped up from his chair, startling Han who struggled to maintain his balance.

“What are you doing here? You’re supposed to be recovering.” Felix states, scowling at the poor aide, who clearly did nothing but follow orders.

“I’ve come to receive my punishment for putting the Crown Prince in danger.”

Both Han and Felix stared in disbelief at the Crown Prince’s unexpected statement.

“Your Highness…” Han’s voice trailed off, touched by Christopher’s unexpected maturity.

Chris ignores the stupid look on Han’s face, continuing to stare into the darkening sky.

As the evening wore on and the chill set in, Felix was sent back inside, while Christopher sat beside Han, mirroring his punishment. Unlike the prince who had just begun, the younger boy’s legs give out and he grimaces, finally collapsing onto the dirt. Groaning, he looks to his master.

“You really don’t have to continue, Your Highness.”

And immediately Christopher also sits on the ground next to, making Han stares blankly.

“It wasn’t mandatory for me to continue.” He smugly states, and Han blinked, dumbfounded by Christopher’s declaration, a mixture of frustration and relief. He was still the pain-in-the-ass prince.

The playmate massages his thighs, and the Crown Prince watches with guilt.

“I’m sorry.” He mutters, making Han’s eyes shoot up at him in surprise once again.

“You’re younger than me, yet you were able to think quickly and bring us back to safety. While I—I’m so immature, I almost got both of us killed.”

Han falls silent.

It’s true that If the Crown Prince had died under his watch in that river, Han knew he'd face a punishment fit for the crime. Despite being only a year and a half into training and a few months as Christopher’s playmate, Han always had his hands full with the prince, yet weirdly the younger boy didn’t complain. Maybe it was his desperation to become a warrior, or maybe he had grown accustomed to the prince’s antics. The apology, however, was a first. The same kid who normally scoffed at him daily now apologizing brought a smile to Han's face.

“It is my duty, Your Highness. I still want to be your personal guard in the future.” Han’s words echoed a maturity beyond his years.

“Call me Chris. There’s no one else here.” The Prince smiles in return.

Han blinks taken aback.

“How can I? It is not prop—”

We’re going to spend a lot of time together, especially once you become my guard. Do you intend on making it awkward after every friendly joke? Just Chris is fine.”

“Okay. Chris.” Han hesitated, but casually addressed.

A comfortable silence settled between the newfound friends. The sun had set, the night air growing cold. Han urges Christopher to return to his warm bed, while Chris helps the young boy up, sore from his punishment. As they walked, Han suddenly remembered something, halting in his steps.

“Oh!—” He delved into the pocket of his shorts.

“You had this in your hands when I brought you back.”

His palm opens, producing the Crystal Bird, its azure hues catching the starlight. Chris eyes the piece of jewelry, taking the delicate necklace, its chain slightly tarnished and scratched but still gleaming. The memory of his savior—the mysterious girl who appeared and vanished—flickered in his mind. A part of him thought he had imagined it, but there had actually been someone there. A girl. She was…

“A princess.” Chris mumbles.

“A princess?!” Han’s eyes widened, glancing around cautiously.

“Don’t tell me you met one of those young ladies from the gathering by the river.” Han's whispers were strained.

Chris furrows his brows in confusion.

“What gathering?”

Confusion mingled with shock as the two new friends realized they had much to discuss—stories to share from their separate but interlinked ordeals. The night stretched on, filled with conversations and revelations, the bond between Christopher and Han deepening amid the secrets they unraveled. ─────────────────────── Princess Sienna had fallen unconscious. Her condition stirred panic among the staff and nobles. The royal doctor’s frantic efforts to stabilize her continued through the night. The maids and servants present at the party were imprisoned in the dungeon, accused of negligence. The nobles whose daughters had been present at the tea party were standing around in fear. If anything had happened to the princess they would all be punished. Y/N was confined to her palace.

Princess Y/N lay in her bed, tormented by guilt over the stolen gift and the consequences that followed. The little child blamed herself for everything that had happened this afternoon. She simply wanted to take a closer look at the pretty thing. She had done nothing wrong. Her mother’s stern words echoed in her mind, emphasizing the need for secrecy.

Upon her return she had confessed her wrong doings to her mother, and her mother had scared her even more.

“Do you understand what you have done?” Her mother’s cold gaze had bore into her teary eyes.

The tight grip of the older woman’s fingers on the child’s arms made her terrified.

“You must never speak of this. You must never confess to taking that gift.” Her words were cold, awaiting for the trembling Princess to respond with what she wanted to hear.

“If anyone asks, you simply have wandered off following a rabbit, or a butterfly. You know nothing of what had happened while you were distracted. Do you understand?”

Y/N broke out into sobs in her mother’s grasp. She was scared, for her sister, for the maids who were all going to get punished.

“Mother, it’s wrong to lie.” She cries.

Her mother shuts her eyes in frustration, fingers digging deeper into the child’s arms.

“It is but a white lie. One that will protect you.” The mother sighs, loosening her grip, slender fingers wiping away at her tears.

“Princess Sienna will recover. As for the maids, they’ll simply be replace.” Lady Katherine continued, her voice softer but laced with underlying urgency.

“But for you, my daughter, the consequences could be severe. If you confess or anyone even hears a word of if, you’ll be branded a thief. Your reputation will be ruined. No one will want to associate with you. Is that what you want?”

The child looked into her mother’s now warming eyes, a small smile on her lips. Pulling her into a hug, the mother pats at her hairs.

“Mother just wants what’s the best for you.”

The child slowly nodded, her mother’s words enough to convince herself she did nothing wrong, her stern words cut through Y/N's resolve, shaping her perception of right and wrong.

Lady Katherine, once celebrated as one of the most beautiful women in high society, had a past marked by humble beginnings in a lower-ranking noble house. Despite her family's title, they lacked wealth, a circumstance that drove Katherine to leverage her beauty as her ticket to a better life. It was this charm that caught the eye of the nation's most powerful man—the King himself.

In the lavish court where the King entertained many women, Katherine swiftly became his favored companion. While she could never match the Queen in authority, Katherine secured her place by bearing the King's child—a daughter who would forever tie her to the royal family, ensuring their future amidst the uncertainties of courtly life.

The question lingered, however, whether Katherine's actions were born out of genuine concern for her daughter's wellbeing or driven by her own desire to escape a life of want.

Despite their lower status within the royal hierarchy, Y/N’s title guaranteed attention from elite suitors in her future. Safeguarding Y/N’s royal lineage shielded her from the uncertainties Katherine had endured in her youth. For Katherine, Y/N’s royal birthright represented a promise of a brighter future.

And that was enough for the caring mother.

As dawn approached, Princess Sienna’s fever finally broke, bringing a collective sigh of relief throughout the palace. The noble families, apprehensive during her illness, were allowed to return home. The maids and servants, deemed responsible, were dismissed from service. Just as Lady Katherine said would happen. Y/N’s thoughts raced. Sienna's recovery eased some of her fears, but guilt over the consequences weighed heavily on her conscience. All those people had lost their livelihoods because Sienna had fallen into the river while looking for the crystal bird. The crystal bird that was in her possession at the time. And on top of all that she had lost it while trying to save that boy.

Y/N's head snapped up from her pillow, her thoughts immediately returning to the boy she had rescued from the river the day before. Her mind wracked, dread gripped her as she wondered if he had survived or if he still lay by the water's edge.

For an idle princess, she had too many worries.

The next afternoon, while the court was busy tending to the still fragile Sienna, the second princess slipped out of her room, ignoring her mother’s instructions to stay put. Concern for the boy she had rescued from the river consumed her thoughts.

Dodging through a hidden hole in the wall she had discovered not long ago, the young girl brushed away dirt and clutched a crochet bag, its contents clinking softly as she ran. Emerging near the riverbank where she had found the boy, her heart raced with fear at the thought of finding him lifeless. Sunlight filtered through the forest, casting dappled shadows on the lush greenery around her. Critters scurried away at her approach. Standing by the river where left him, a sigh of relief escaped her lips, she hadn’t stumbled upon a tragedy.

“Are you really a princess?” The sudden voice startled Y/N, nearly making her jump out of her skin.

She spun around, eyes widening as she faced the boy from yesterday—alive and well, a grin on his face.

“Were you the princess that saved me?” He asked again, his gaze filled with nothing but gratitude and curiosity.

“I...I suppose I was.” Y/N replied hesitantly.

Christopher's expression softened, his eyes showing genuine appreciation. Y/N observed the scrawny boy before her, noting his tidy appearance compared to their first meeting. Despite his wealth and status, he appeared unusually timid, nervously fidgeting with his fingers and glancing at her shyly.

“I wanted to thank you, Princess.” He said with a warm smile. “You really saved my life.”

Y/N blinked, suddenly overwhelmed by his heartfelt words. She had never been thanked so sincerely before, and she didn’t quite know how to respond.

“I-I have desserts. Do you want some?” She stumbled over her words, fumbling through her bag.

Christopher’s eyes widened with curiosity as she produced bandages, sewing thread, and finally, a bundle of cookies.

“They have raspberry filling.” She added, looking up at him with a mixture of nervousness and excitement.

His grin widened as he picked up one of the cookies, crumbs falling as he took a delicious bite.

The two sat down against a sturdy tree. Y/N ventured to ask how he had ended up in the river in the first place. Chris tried to explain but faltered into embarrassed silence.

“I slipped.” He finally managed to say, a lie.

“What about you? What were you doing all the way down here?” He takes another bite of his second cookie.

Y/N hesitated, recalling her mother’s stern instructions.

“I was following a rabbit.” She fibbed, her eyes avoiding his gaze.

Chris nodded, realizing she must be younger than he had initially thought.

“I heard there was a birthday celebration for the yesterday. Did I ruin the birthday party?” His questioning gaze snapped Y/N out of her thoughts, still preoccupied with her little white lie.

“Ah—birthday? My birthday isn’t until next week.” She quickly responds.

“Oh! We must meet then. I know of this delicious cake that our cook makes. It’s the fluffiest. I’ll be sure to let you have a taste.” He exclaims, excitement written on his face.

Y/N felt a warmth spread through her. Her birthday was never a grand affair compared to Sienna’s, but seeing this boy so enthusiastic about celebrating her birthday made her heart swell with happiness.

After the cookies had been enjoyed and thank-yous exchanged, the two sat in companionable silence, wondering what else to talk about. Before Chris could speak, a soft “psst” came from Han’s direction behind a nearby tree. Chris glanced back at his friend, who signaled with hand gestures that it was time to go.

Y/N narrows her gaze, wondering what he was looking at, unable to see from her spot.

“I must head back, Princess. It was truly a pleasure meeting you again in better circumstances,” Chris said, standing and extending his hand to help her up.

Y/N took his hand gracefully, allowing him to pull her to her feet. Her heart fluttered with a mix of excitement and curiosity about their budding friendship.

“Shall we meet again soon? I would also like to give something in return for the cookies.” Chris suggested with a warm smile.

“Aren’t you going to give me cake?” She questioned.

“Surely not in return for the cookies! The cake is a birthday gift. I wouldn’t take anything in return for it.” He chuckled, his eyes twinkling with sincerity.

The princess ponders for a moment, but of course agrees.

“You must let me try one of your favorite desserts then. How about two days from now, at the same time as today?”

Chris nodded enthusiastically. “That sounds perfect! I’ll bring something special for us.”

After confirming their next meeting, Chris turned to leave, but Y/N’s sudden call made him turn swiftly.

“Ah—you didn’t tell me your name.”

“It’s Chr…” He hesitated, then decided, “It’s Chan,” grinning broadly.

“Chan...”

Y/N repeated his name under her breath, committing it to memory, and nodded in acknowledgment as her new friend began taking backward steps. He bowed respectfully and after she returned his bow gracefully, both parted, minds swirling with thoughts of their meeting and anticipation for the next one.

“Your Highness, you will surely be the death of me.” Han sighed, stepping forward with an exasperated expression.

“You’ve said your thanks and had your fill of cookies. Can we please return now?” Han's voice held a hint of pleading.

Chris beamed at his friend, genuinely happy yet also amused by Han’s concern. He threw an arm over Han's shoulder, causing the younger boy to stumble slightly as they began walking away together.

“Oh, my friend Han, don’t worry. I’ll be careful,” Chris reassured him, his tone earnest.

Han sensed that his anxiety would only continue to grow as he followed the energetic crown prince back towards the palace.

Poor playmate, resigned to the fact that Chris’s adventurous spirit was bound to keep him on his toes. ━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━ to be continued.

── ask to be tagged! - @stayceebs97, @palindrome969,

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hugemilkshake · 6 months ago

Note

Hi can I make request?

it’s some kind au thing

yandere ancients hero’s(but there mermaid siren’s)x shy sailor

Enjoy the milkshake! I still can’t believe we have all the ancients in the game (also writers block is strong)

Shy Sailor

-romantic or platonic-

!TW! This will have stuff like obsessions and protectiveness

Pure Vanilla

Pure Vanilla finds you so sweet but can’t help but feel like you don’t notice him enough

Now the seas get pretty harsh… so if he tipped your boat a little you won’t mind right?

Well maybe he was a Little too harsh… you may or may not of fallen off

But of course he saved you! He wouldn’t let you drown!

But… you finally noticed him.. so maybe… might just knock you off your ship again

Hollyberry

Hollyberry knows that your on the ocean for days on end and worries that you don’t have enough food

So she’ll bring you fish so you have enough food

She’ll wait with you and hope you give her some cooked fish

She’ll also tell you story’s to keep you company so you never get lonely

Dark Cacao

Dark Cacao is a silent man. You can barely hear him

He swims alongside your ship, making sure nothing bothers you

Weather that be the rough waves or deep sea monsters, he will make sure nothing bothers you

He will never let anything bother you

Golden Cheese

Golden Cheese is very generous

She will give you any and all treasure she finds

If it’s shiny, it’s yours

She’ll also sings for you which makes you feel more interested in her

She just wants you to be her treasure

White Lily

She wants to learn more about to.

She’s never seen anyone like you before, it’s natural she wants to learn more about you

She’ll constantly be asking you questions about you and were you grew up

The more she learns about you, the more obsessed she gets

#crk #cookie run #crk x reader #pure vanilla cookie #dark cacao cookie #white lily cookie #hollyberry cookie #golden cheese cookie

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absolutelynotsanebaby · 4 months ago

Note

Hey in you villian au I had a few questions about Kai if you don't mind.

First you talked about kai and him being a cult leader, whats the gist of that, something similar to chen? A death cult, a fire worshiping soceity, a volcano conclave?

And secondly, whats his relationship with his sister, ambivilance, getting along in the 'Oh lets go on a pilaging and raid together thats sounds like top tier sibling fun' sort of way or a bipolar could be fun or could be fatal depending on the way the wind blows kinda way?

Finaly (and sorry for being long winded) you talked about his main thread / power came from societal manipulations, is this more cloak and dagers or populism / manipulation, the steel in the dark vs the gilded spider web so to speak?

PS fun au, realy cool designs my favourts are probaly kai pixal and jay, all just fab :)

Disclaimer: long ass ramble about my Villain AU.

so many questions today, not that I'm complaining! I love to talk about my aus. Kai's an interesting one too.

Kai's cult doesn't actually have a big base or anything, at least not in it's fully developed form. It's not ironed out but, I have the thought that the basis is that by joining the cult, you protect yourself from the end of the world snake of fire (definitely not it's actual name lol). By joining, you get into it's good graces, it won't eat you when it returns to Ninjago. By worshiping Kai, who presents himself kind of like a human-form of the snake, you fully ensure your safety. It's a complete lie of course but by the time the AU officially starts, it been over 200 years since canon, so it's had a long time to marinate. That's another thing, because of that time span the cult is huge. Functions more like a society than a small-time cult. Whole generations of families have been born into the cult, it's really soaked into the population. One thing I like to think about how you could walk into a random, harmless looking town and be completely unaware it's cult territory. That everyone in it is a member. I like to call them snake-dens (also what they're called in story).

(also note: since you mentioned Chen, Kai's cult does actually have similar snake imagery if that isn't clear lol.)

As for Nya, well, that's kind of complicated. See, Nya isn't a villain in the same way Kai is. Most of the art I've posted about her have been of her post-reformation design. Essentially within the two centuries since sea-bound, she'd developed into a sea monster. More akin to a destructive force of nature than a traditional villain like Kai. A lot of her destructive stemmed from anger, people abusing and polluting the ocean. Namely, Zane's kingdom would throw a lot of oil, trash, and broken/old tech into the ocean before an event where Sea-Nya had thrown it all back over the walls of the kingdom down onto it through a huge wave (hugely destructive, had a death count, just plain disgusting). Sorry for the ramble about her but I thought some context would be important lol.

So, Kai and Nya didn't actually talk like at all during those two centuries. Pre-seabound but post ToE their relationship was -- very bad. Nya was very, very angry at Kai for leaving them behind and becoming so awful. They never resolved that before Seabound. Kai felt guilt about that, what happened to her and that he never went to fight for hr or save her. But he never changed, so how bad he really felt is -- up to interpretation. it's a big part of why he and Jay fight/fought so much. After Nya had returned to (mostly) human, their relationship is interesting. Nya kind of hates him but it's -- muted. She can't stand the person he's become, how he threw everything away and never changed. That he had a real choice when she didn't and he used it to be -- a violent, cruel cult leader. When he comes around, she doesn't tell him to go away. She thinks he's pathetic. Kai wants his sister back, but he's not willing to change. They're complicated.

I'm going to say it's a 'gilded web' type thing but it also is very shady. He has a lot of connections and is just a plain focal point within the underground crime scene (or overground because this ninjago is really fucked up and dangerous lol, the entire land. ninjago city itself is completely gone). For instance, in Zane's kingdom, up in the ranks an advisors runs a smuggling operation for citizens to 'escape' (before Zane was de-overlorded anyways, after that he opens up the borders). Only about 50% of the time would those citizens actually get out of the city, the other 50% of the time they'd be sold to someone/somewhere or killed. Kai's allies with them (I haven't figured out exactly who that is yet lol). Another ally is Wen Xia (oc talk sorry) who's just a general power. Usually runs a fighting ring(s) but does a bunch of other stuff. Very dangerous and very rich. Kai just has a lot of connections and a strangle-hold on a lot of ninjago. MAN this got LONG. thank you for the questions I love the chance to info dump, haha!

(and TY!! Jay's one of my favorite designs too)

#lego ninjago #ninjago #kai ninjago #kai smith #kai jiang #nya ninjago #nya smith #nya jiang #villains.au #blah blah #inbox.ask #thehighmage

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sleepyfan-blog · 5 months ago

Text

Interviews

Author’s Note: This is the next part of the Big E raises the primarchs AU! First. Previous. Next. A big thanks to @plagueparchments, @undeaddream, @kit-williams and @bleedingichorhearts for allowing me to borrow their OCs for this fic! Please rb and support their artistic endeavors!

word count: 5,041 this fic got away from meeeeee

Warnings: none? Please tell me if I need to tag something

Tagged: : @egrets-not-regrets @the-pure-angel @sharenadraculea @whorety-k @gallifreyianrosearkytiorsusan

Summary: Valdor interviews some candidates to become primary caretakers for the infant primarchs.

Valdor sent out a coded message, asking all those above a certain clearance level who were not currently assigned to high priority missions to arrive at his office at their earliest convenience in order to discuss a top-secret medium term mission that required discretion, finesse and care. He has already spoken to over a dozen of his fellow custodes, high ranking mortal military officers, admech and civilian mortal staff… Along with the occasional Terran noble. None of them had the qualities that he was looking for as of yet.

There was a light knock on the door and Valdor called out neutrally “Come in.” A flash of surprise shot through him as Pariah Almach walked into his office.

“As you say, captain-general. The mission details on the call you sent out were light on details, but I’m… Curious and willing to serve.” The tanned man stated, tucking a stray lock of dark brown hair behind one of his ears and lightly rubbing one of the facial scars on his lower cheek, golden eyes flicking up to Valdor’s face before looking away respectfully.

“There is a reason for that. I have a series of questions to ask you, which I stress you must answer as truthfully and honestly as you can. There are no incorrect answers, but they will determine your fitness for the mission. If I deem you a potential candidate, I will inform you of the mission details. Due to the nature of the mission it is strictly voluntary, however if you decline the mission, the lord sigilite will remove your memories of the specifics of the mission for the safety of the mission. Do you understand?” Valdor asks, making sure to be upfront. This was the first hurdle that had more than half of the potential candidates who had arrived so far to decline the mission and leave.

“I understand, Captain-general. I am ready to answer your questions and pass whatever tests are necessary.” The powerful blank answered with a serious and determined nod.

“Excellent. How much experience do you have working with young children? Specifically infants and toddlers?” Valdor asked, watching him carefully.

Almach blinked rapidly a couple of times, visibly confused before answering “As a child and a teenager, I had many younger siblings I was raised alongside. As one of the eldest, part of my duties were to care for and protect the little ones as best as I could. I haven’t any formal childcare training, but I’ve got a good few years of experience with children of all ages, including infants, sir.”

Valdor noted that down on his dataslate and continued “How do you feel about potentially interacting closely with psykers who will start out wholly untrained due to their nature, as well as those who are closely attuned to the Warp because of their nature?”

Almach shifted a little in his seat “As a Blank of some strength and training, I have dealt with out of control psykers by exerting my own abilities to nullify their own, sir. As long as the psykers don’t attack me for existing, I think I would be able to get along with them well enough… Though I’d need to be away from them for the psykers to learn how to use their powers, if that’s something in the cards for those psykers.” He’s aware that not all psykers who are found by the Emperor’s forces are allowed to continue to live and are brought under his banner. Those tainted are killed to prevent further contamination. Even if the psyker themself is unaware of the darkness they’ve brushed.

Valdor nods, asking several more childcare related questions before saying “I believe that, despite your status as a Blank, you would be a good fit for this mission. As you are aware, The Emperor has many projects going in order to further unify and strengthen humanity. One of these is the Primarch Project. Twenty-one genetically and psychically hand-crafted human infants by The Emperor and each with a multidisciplinary team of the brightest scientific minds who could be found on Terra, created to lead the Legiones Astartes. Most of those scientific minds have been reassigned to the Astartes project, with a couple of the medical staff on hand at any time of the day or night in case the genetically altered infants require medical attention.’

The captain general paused for several seconds before continuing to explain “They were originally to stay in their incubation chambers until their physical maturity was that of a toddler, but strong visions prompted The Emperor to pull them from their tubes early and bring them to a secure wing of the palace. One of these infant generals is a Blank, though how powerful he will be has yet to be seen. Should you accept this mission, you will be assigned the primary caretaker for primarch eleven, the Pariah Primarch. He does not have a name other than Primarch Eleven yet. Your duties would involve the total physical and emotional care of primarch eleven while he grows from an infant to a toddler, which should take up to two years. One of the fail safes that the Emperor put in place in each of the primarchs was to ensure that they would physically mature faster when exposed to danger. You may also be assigned to care for primarchs Five and/or Seven, depending on how many qualified people I find for this mission. What say you?”

Almach swallowed dryly. Could he raise one to three children for war and bloodshed? Admittedly, that’s what they were made for, and his own hands were dripping in the blood of others. He was also keenly aware of what it was like to be a Blank surrounded by non-blanks. How lonely and aching that could get. He would do his duty, despite the guilt that bit at his heart “I will, captain-general. When do I start?”

“Do you have any loose ends to wrap up? Otherwise you will start immediately, and you will be living in the same section of the Imperial Palace as your ward or wards.” Valdor revealed.

Almach shook his head “I have no loose ends, sir. Am I allowed to pack a couple of mementos before being transferred to the palace, sir?”

“You are. One of the Golden Host will accompany you to your apartment and aid you in packing, take the rest of the day to get ready.” Valdor ordered. “Oh, and you will be given a week of childcare training before being introduced to your charge or charges.”

“Yes sir.” Almach responded, nodding. He’s not surprised he’s going to be watched while having such information in his head. He got up and headed off, mind running in many different directions at once.

There was a light, efficient knock on Valdor’s door, soon after Almach left and he called out “Come in, please.”

“Yes sir.” Apollo responded, quietly walking in, closing the door behind him and sitting down when Valdor silently gestured for him to do so. “I received your call for a highly secretive, multi-year mission? I am here to present myself for it. What do I need to do, sir?”

“Before I tell you about the mission, I have several questions to ask of you. There are no correct answers, merely the truthful answers you have. If I decide that you are unfit for the mission it is not due to a fault you possess, merely a mismatch in abilities and needs of the mission. Understood?” Valdor clarified, knowing that some of his fellow Custodians would take a rejection of any mission as a failing on their part.

“I understand sir, and I am ready to answer any question you have.” The Dread Spear responds, lifting his chin a little and squaring his shoulders.

“Excellent. Now, I will ask you a series of hypothetical questions and I want you to answer them to the best of your abilities.” The captain general instructed, before he cleared his throat and stated “You are guarding a very young and willful charge that has shown signs of willfulness and a prickly disposition. They are being difficult and refusing to do what you have told them to in order to keep them safe. What do you do?”

“I remove them from whatever the source of danger is, or I eliminate the danger, depending on whatever is the swiftest option. Is this a bodyguarding mission, sir? I… Do not have experience with such things. I thought the Aquiilan Shields took those missions solely.” Apollo murmured, shifting ever so slightly in his seat.

“This particular mission is set to last for at minimum two years and will be taking place within the Imperial Palace itself, Apollo. There are a number of other… Considerations that caused me to widen the pool of potential candidates. How well can you adapt to humans with enhanced and altered instincts?” Valdor asked.

Apollo thought about the question for a couple of moments before asking “Are you talking about the approved abhuman strains? I have worked alongside different kinds of abhumans before, sir. While they may be a perversion of true humanity, so long as they are willing to serve the emperor, I have no qualms with them.. And as long as their instincts do not get in the way of the mission, they don’t particularly bother me either, sir.”

Valdor hummed, writing down what the younger Custodian said, tapping the stylus thoughtfully against the dataslate before saying “Before I explain this mission it must be said that this information must be kept in the absolute strictest of confidence. Do not breathe a word of this outside of the imperial palace, even among our fellow custodes, even if you know that they are also aware of this duty. If you feel you cannot keep such silence, speak now and you will be removed from the duty roster.”

“I can keep this silent, captain-general.” Apollo answered, shifting a little in his seat again, leaning forward slightly, intensely curious. He’d recently arrived back from a kill mission and had noticed that some of the golden host were abuzz about something, yet they could not or would not say whenever he approached to speak with them.

Valdor quickly explained about the changes in the Primarch project, and that the infant primarchs had been removed from their incubation chambers and moved to a different heavily guarded and warded section of the Imperial Palace for their own safety, and finishing with “This particular posting would have you taking care of the needs of one or more of the infant primarchs directly. Tending to their physical needs and ensuring that they are adequately emotionally and mentally stimulated as well. You cannot become emotionally attached to your charge or charge. If you feel that you are, come to me and you will be reassigned.”

“I… Infant care is not something I have been trained on, sir and is outside of my realm of expertise. But I feel that I can maintain proper emotional distance from the Primarchs, and should be able to care for whichever one or more of them I am assigned to tend to.” Apollo answered honestly.

“You will be given childcare training for the next week, and then introduced to your charge. I’m sure that you will do well, Apollo.” Valdor murmured, nodding.

Valdor called out, "Come in," As he heard a quiet knock on his door, ignoring the desire to pinch the bridge of his nose. He'd dealt with a half dozen nosy and unfit nobles who had only wanted to know what the mission was. As they had no intention of actually completing the mission he did not tell them. Not that their whining and fussing... and the fact that His Imperial Majesty had shown up to court lat. Again. And with a small dirty towel over one of his shoulders... Rumors abound in regards to why, and he knew that he would need to head those rumors off sooner, rather than later. It was a job for future him, but he's noted down to get done after the initial interviews were done.

"What is the mission you are seeking to staff, sir?" Zedkiel asked, standing attentively near the door. The Terrab born Raven Guard watching with dark and inquisitive eyes.

"Before I tell you, I have questions for you to answer first, and the warning that if you are selected for this mission, you cannot tell any of your brothers the mission... And that you'll have limited to time to even contact them over the vox, due to the nature of the mission. If you wish to withdraw now, you may," Valdor explains evenly, watching the other trans-human carefully.

"I am used to being out of contact with my Brothers for long periods of time during missions, The Raven Guard are primarily trained in stealth, assassinations, and misdirection after all. I will answer your questions to the best of my abilities." Zedkiel murmured, resolute.

"Good. Now. How do you handle interpersonal conflict? How do you handle discipline of others under your sway? How do you adapt under high pressure situations where you cannot resort to violence?" The Captain General asked.

Zedkiel was now very intensely curious as to what this mission could possible be about, but restrained the hundreds of inquiries that The Captain General's questions spawned in his mind. He took his time to ponder each question before answering. "I try and find ground with whoever I am in conflict with, to come to a compromise that all involved can live with, if not happy about. As for discipline, I find that corporal punishment leads to long-term issues and prefer to correct problems using more constructive methods. I find redirection and positive reinforcement of the correct behaviors to be a more effective, sir."

Zedkiel was aware that a number of Commanders and Officers preferred to use the rod and sticks liberally, but he had found that Carrots and gentle correction had much better long-term results, even if it took longer to get unruly Scouts into line, than beatings and terror tactics. "As for high stress non-violent situations, I deal with them by first assessing the situation ato determine the source, and how I might be able to solve or stop the stress. How I would do that depends on the kind of stressor or stressors present, Sir."

Valdor wrote down what Zedkiel said, a considering expression appearing on his face. He was quite certain if he offered a spot for the Astartes on the mission, that Zedkiel would accept without pause. To b able to meet his tiny Primarch. But would he be a good caretaker? From what Valdor knew of the younger trans-human's mission history and personality... The other may be a tad indulgent, but given that he knew that Apollo would be Strict... A gentler hand and limited Astartes exposure should be fine for the infant warlords. "If you refuse this mission after I give you the details, they will be wiped from your mind, for safety and security reasons. Do you understand?"

"Yes sir. I am ready," The raven guard responded, posture straightening minutely. "The Primarchs were pulled from their incubation chambers as infants for security reasons. They have been moved to a secure wing of the palace and require full time caretakers. Will you be one of them?" Valdor explains deliberately keeping his face neutral.

Zedkiel's eyes widened a little in shock before the Astartes spoke, voice cracking a little in eagerness, "I would be honored to help care for any of the Primarchs why they are so young." Valdor inclined his head, the corners of his lips quirking up a fraction of a centimeter before flattening again, He's unsurprised by the other's eagerness, "Of those I've interviewed today, you are one of three candidates I've found acceptable for their care team so far. Tie up any loose ends that you have today, then report to Imperial Office 156 on Beta level for training. You and the other caretakers will receive one week of child care training."

"Yes sir," Zedkiel murmured, saluting Valdor and leaving once dismissed.

"Come on in," Valdor called out as another person knocked on his office door. He had taken just long enough of a break to eat and stretch his legs a little before returning to the desk that His Emperor had given him.

"Yes sir," Another of the Golden Host murmured, stepping into the room and sitting down. She removed her helmet and massaged her horns, looking him over, a small smirk appearing on her face, "Long day, cap? Just what is this mission? Half the palace is talking about what it might be, or so it feels like." She shook hout her dark hair as she spoke.

"The mission is highly classified, " Valdor responded before he gave her the same warnings he had given about the secrecy and security level that this mission was and an offer for her to back out before continuing, as well as the pre-screening questions.

Baphomet flashed him a challenging grin, eyes alight with interest as she leaned over his desk a little, "Oooh, now you've got my attention sir! It's gotta be something special with this kind of security involved. Ask your questions Boss, I'm ready!"

Valdor cleared his throat a little before answering with several questions in a rapid response, "Do you have any experience dealing with untrained psykers in a non-violent way? How experienced are you with dealing with those who see glimpses of possible futures? How well do you interact with Blanks?"

Baphomet hummed a little, scratching at the base of one of her horns, leaning back in her chair, kicking her feet before answering, "I've corralled untrained psykers before. Especially given how most baseline psykers tend to be squishy. I can usually scruff them if I need to without much issue. Blanks freak me out a little, but the Sisters do important work. As long as the Blank or Blanks in question aren't shitty to me. I'm fine with 'em. But you know how some baselines get with my mutations. I won't tolerate any whining. Oh! I dunno much about seers, though."

... Considering that Nine had an obvious mutation he couldn't be able to easily hide. Baphomry might be an excellent fit for him as a primary caretaker, despite her disciplinary history. Valdor gives her one more chance to back out of the mission- to which Baphomet flashes him a grin and laughs. He explains about the infant Primarchs, concluding with, "one of them has bird-like wings and future sight. Almost half of them exhibit warp-touched abilities regularly. And all but three of them have shown at least one warp-touched abilities once after being removed from incubation. Are you willing to be a caretaker for the infant Primarchs?"

Baphomet's eyes widen in surprise and delight as she shot up to her feet, "That sounds line an absolute riot! Fuck yes, I'm up for the challenging mission! I haven't had ... any experience with itty bitties, but I know you. I'm getting kiddie care training before being unleashed on them. I'm absolutely up for it!" The younger Custodes was bouncing a little on the balls of her feet, radiating excitement.

Valdor nods, a small smile, which he allows to, appearing on his face amused by her exuberance as he instructed her, "Deal with anything you need to. Caring for the infant Primarchs will last for two years at minimum. Possibly longer, depending on how much of a handful they are as toddlers. Report to room 156 on Beta level tomorrow to begin the week long child care course."

"Aye aye sir!" Baphomet chirped before prancing out of the room, grinning widely and helmet in hand.

There was a quick, rapid knock on Valdor's office door.

"Enter," The Captain General instructed, mildly curious as to who would next present themself for consideration. The fact, as it stood, the caretaking team was half Custodes, did not show any bias on his part, but rather due to the fact that Custodians were likely the best suited to handle infant warp creations meant to Lead Sector-claiming armies when they were fragile and at their weakest.

There was a rapid clicking sound as a Martian Tech Priest crawled along one wall of Valdor's office. through the door that they were closing with their tail. The Mechanicum's cultist waved a heavily modified hand in Valdor's direction.

"Uhm. Greetings. Why are you here?" Valdor asked bluntly, pulling out the language translation app on his data slate, ignoring the rising frustration clawing at his mind.

The Tech Priest clicked rapidly at him for several seconds. The translation software wrote out for him [Here for Assignment. High Priority and Security Level. Serve Omnissiah.]

...Great. Sure. Uh-huh. Not. “I see. Do you have other methods of conversation, or is this auditory clicking your only method of communication?” On one hand, it might be good for the infant primarchs to interact with a member of the Mechanicus, and to know that there was a varied methods of communications.. Would it be prudent to allow a member of their tentative allies so close to such a vulnerable resource? Even if several of his fellow Custodes would be present when this priest was as well?

[Singular method of communication.] The priest clicked rapidly, head tilting a little to one side. [Translation simple with helmet and vox-communication systems.]

“While that is true, if you are picked for this mission, not everyone you will need to communicate with has access to a helmet or vox to translate the sounds you are making. Regardless, I have other questions to ask of you, before you receive the details of this mission, if I deem you a fit match. This mission is highly secret and you would not be able to inform anyone else of receiving this mission any of the details. I was handed the task of stocking the best people by the Emperor Himself. Very few people are aware of this mission as it is. If you refuse to take the mission if you learn of the details, your memories of such will be erased permanently. Do you understand?” Valdor responds, leaning over his desk and looming at the tech priest, gaze narrow and focused.

[Understood. Will answer queries. Serve Omnisiah.] The tech priest beeped response. [Will serve faithfully and keep silence.]

Valdor nodded, looking over the list of questions he had and began with “This mission will take a minimum of two years, and will involve a great deal of physical, mental and emotional discretion and effort on the parts of the team members. Do you have any experiences with caring for and disciplining delicate sentient resources? If so, please give examples. Additionally, if you are chosen for this position while you will not want for any resource you may need to successfully complete this mission, are you able to discern between a need that is not being properly fulfilled and a want or desire in your charge that they are trying to emotionally or mentally attempting to manipulate from you?”

[I have worked with tech-priests in training, after they are released from their vat tubes. They can be unruly as their weak flesh can overwhelm them with sensation and stimuli. Routines, training and careful praise/punishment system is effective in keeping them in line. Before they have been fully brought into the fold, some of the young priests in training can get… Stubborn and unruly. I have dealt with youthful manipulations in the past with a firm hand, when interacting with them. Logic and not yielding to yelling or other emotional appeals is important while training and interacting with such resources.] The tech priest - whose name escaped Valdor at the moment - clicked at a steady tempo.

Valdor hummed as he wrote down the other’s response. The lack of regular communication was a bit of a hindrance, but his responses were illuminating and could prove to be most useful in dealing with the infant primarchs. That and they would need to get used to the strangeness of the Mechanicum quickly, so early exposure wasn’t a bad idea. “Very well. This is your last chance to back out before I explain to you the mission parameters. If you do decide to back out, it will not be held against you in any way.”

[I am ready to serve.] the tech priest clicked.

The captain-general nodded, before explaining the success of the primarch project, and the fact that the infant generals had been pulled out of their maturation tubes as infants due to security concerns, and the fact that the tech priest - amongst others - would be tending to their physical and emotional needs during such a vulnerable point in time, as well as the week long child care training the priest would be taking before being introduced to his charges, finishing with “Currently all of the primarchs are being cared for in a single room together, though that is subject to change, particularly as they grow older and their requirements change. Do you accept this duty?”

[I would be honored, Captain-general.] The tech priest beeped back, his tail flicking a little.

“Good. Finish up any tasks you have today.” Valdor ordered him, informing the tech priest as to where to report to for training tomorrow.

“Sir, are you still looking for candidates for that high priority, top-secret mission?” Adonis asks as he peers into Valdor’s room, where the captain-general of the Adeptus Custodes is sitting, staring at his dataslate as if he hopes it has the questions to all the questions in his mind.

Valdor looked up at Adonis as he spoke and beckoned him inside with a curl of one finger “That I am. I have found some who qualify, but ideally I’d have one or two more on the team to fill it out competently.” He was still somewhat hesitant in including the tech priest in the group… But from what he had read over of Tiny’s service history, the priest should be a good fit, if a mildly mischievous caretaker.

“I see. What qualifications are you looking for, sir?” The Aquilan Shield asked, tilting his head a little in curiosity as he obeyed the silent order to come into the other’s office and sit down.

While Valdor had been tempted to simply assig the infant Primarchs a team of Aquilan Shields - particularly those who had been previously assigned young charges in the past, he was also aware of the… Mixed feelings that the Primarchs provoked in many of his fellow Custodes. Mixed feelings that Valdor knew he himself was not exempt from. “I have several questions to ask of you, as well as a warning to give to you.” He informed the other of the length of the mission, if he refused it that the memories would be taken from his mind, and that Adonis was free to decline the mission with no repercussions.

“Ask your questions, sir. I wouldn’t be here if I wasn’t ready to complete such a mission.” Adonis answered stalwartly, chin lifting up a little, resolute.

“How have you handled medical emergencies that occur to your charges in the past? When one of them fell seriously ill, for example.” Valdor responds. He knew that Adonis had never allowed any of his charges to come to harm during the course of his duties,but illness was an unfortunate thing that happened to baselines. While it was exceedingly unlikely that the infant primarchs could get sick with normal illnesses, and the palace was well-guarded against magical curses and maladies…

They were still gene-crafted infants, and while they were definitely heartier than any natural born infant, there was still the possibility of something unfortunate happening to one or more of them.

“Fifty years ago, one of my charges fell critically ill. I realized their symptoms and brought them to one of my brother apothercaries who had training in treating the illness that they had fallen prey to. Once they had the medications they required I monitored them closely for signs of relapse or worsening condition, while ensuring that they complied with the medical orders and restrictions they’d been given. I personally ensured that they got all of the nutrients, electrolytes and water they needed in the form of a nutritious but easily consumed soup. Under my care they swiftly and fully recovered from their illness.” Adonis answered promptly “While they were resistant to fully complying, I allowed them to move a little more than recommended in order to get them to consume the soup I created for them without fuss. A little bit of compromise goes a long way to compliance in my experience.”

Valdor nodded as he noted that down, a reflective expression appearing on his face. “I will ask you once more, do you wish to withdraw your name from consideration? If you do not, I will explain the mission parameters.”

“I am ready to serve, sir.” The Aquilan Shield responds, alert and inquisitive.

The captain-general explained to Adonis about how the primarchs had been pulled from their maturation chambers as infants, where they had been placed, adn the fact that his Majesty had been the one primarily taking care of the infants, before realizing that to take care of so many infants at once would effectively prevent him from continuing to reunify the Sol system, amongst His many other duties that had begun to fall to the wayside. Which was why he had assigned Valdor to find appropriate caretakers for the infant primarchs. He finished with “Are you willing to care for the infant primarchs, while they are so weak and vulnerable?”

Adonis nodded “I would be willing to do so, sir. I am well aware of His plans for them in the future and will do my best to guard and guide them, should I be chosen for this mission.”

Valdor nodded, saying “Excellent. I will give you the rest of the day to tie up any loose ends you may have. Report to room 156 on Beta level tomorrow to begin the week long child care course.”

“Yes sir.” Adonis acknowledged before leaving with a brief salute.

#constantin valdor #raven guard #custodes #dread spear #aquilan shield #cusdoes ocs #ravenguard ocs #tech priest of mars #tech priest oc #my writing

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childofsardior · 3 months ago

Text

IT'S TIME FOR SOME MORTON HEADCANONS FROM MY PERSONAL HC/AU!

↓↓↓ Read it all below! ↓↓↓

General Info:

Full name: Morton Koopa Jr. He was called simply “Morton” before being adopted by Lord Bowser, at the age of 5. The Koopa King, who had only heard about his own father at the time, (“the Magnificent Emperor of all the Koopas”) recalled some rumors about him being conveniently affected by melanism and called Morton, just like his new son. So the King, who has always loved pretending that the kids were his own, put there the “Jr” in Morton’s ID to feign a continuity in the family, even if everyone always forgets about it. Too bad the Emperor’s actual name happens to be “Mortimer” (Bowser won’t be pleased when he’ll find out).

Gender and pronouns: He is probably a cis man. Pronouns are he/him, mostly because he’s used to them and fit him well. If he questioned himself a bit more than he does nowdays, he could even come up with the realization that “It/They” could work as secondary pronouns. But the truth is: he doesn’t really care. Feels good in his body and how other people see him? That’s enough.

Sexuality: Nobody knows for sure. Morton doesn’t think about it much - he never had a crush or some interests in other Koopas or people in general, but he’s totally chill with it. His siblings, though, are always theorizing about his tastes even if Morton literally doesn’t care at the moment. Iggy, for example, claims that Morton’s apparent lack of attraction to anyone is easily fitting under the aro/ace umbrella. Roy claims that Morton is probably just a het guy that still has to “wake up from his childhood”. Wendy thinks her brother is just a bit shy and will find out eventually. Lemmy tries to defend Morton, reminding everyone that it is none of their business to label their dark scaled brother.

Age: He’s currently 14 and a half (in “canonical” years). In Royal Koopa age, comparing their development to Humans and such, he’s like a 16-years-old. But Morton’s specific development is quite peculiar. Physically speaking, he is way bigger than the average Tarrasquin of his age - in fact, he’s slowly getting bigger than Roy himself; the castle doctors can’t understand why he is so big - yet healthy and all. Iggy theorizes about the fact that Morton is the only one that follows a perfectly balanced diet for a dragon-turtle, with vegetables and fruits along with meat, but Roy jokes that if it was only for the greens, Morton would look like a cauliflower by now. On the other hand, Morton seems to have some kind of development issue, specifically considering his unrefined speaking. Roy and Larry would occasionally call him “dumb guy” or even “stupid” when angry at him, but Morton is actually one of the wisest of the family, and both Iggy and Ludwig agree that Morton can prove everyone to be quite sharp and smart in many situations.

Species: Tarrasquin (also known as "Royal Koopas" or "Dragon-Turtles") - that happens to be a powerful and rare species related both to Koopas and Dragons. The lack of horns at a young age and the number of spikes on the shell may point to the subspecies known as Plains/Field Tarrasquin, while some other details could suggest a "mix" with the Vulcanic bloodline. In addition, all the Koopalings seem to share an innate inclination toward magic and some other unusual details never found before in Tarrasquins, such as tail feathers or natural armors protecting the limbs, along with peculiar tiny gem-like scales scattered around their bodies in different patterns.

Physical appearance: He suffers from a partial melanism that made his scales darker than usual. His head/shoulder skin is white, with some gray details - noticeably, a big star-shaped birthmark on his left eye. He shaves most of his head, leaving only some thin black hair on the top. His eyes are dark gray-blue, and he has got a “quartet-straight upper and lateral” Royal Fangs pattern at the moment. His shell is a deep gray-brown color, almost black, with spikes that are getting golden on the top as he grows up. On his body, some bigger and darker plaque-like scales cover his arm, legs and tail like natural armor; his crocodile-like tail is big and strong and can be used in battles to deflect attacks.

Personality: Morton looks and acts like he is not very smart. He tends to talk in third person, is usually very stoic with his facial expression and looking at him in the eyes may suggest that not a single thought is running in that big head. Most people that he meets will probably think about him like a rough and very simple Koopa. But in reality, Morton is just a chill dude that doesn't talk much, this partially because he can’t speak very well (the reason isn’t clear; the royal doctors ipothized during the years about some speech development issue or maybe some trauma-related consequence that could have happened when he was very young). In everyday life Morton is usually an obedient young brother and a (sort of) responsable big brother - he is very patient with Larry and Junior, and probably the only one that will happily volunteer to spend hours with the two, especially with the Prince, without going mad at the end of the day. During missions, though, his soldier side comes out and he becomes much more serious and aggressive, especially with the Crown's enemies. If he's working along with his siblings during a conquest, Morton's innate protective nature will mix with his on-duty mode creating a very dangerous opponent, especially if the enemies try to hurt Junior or Larry. Morton also got a very big heart under the shell, even if he rarely show emotions - but he does “have feelings too”, believe me. He is usually the one that gives the most useful gifts at birthdays, and the one that finds the most straightorward-yet-wise solutions when in trouble. In the end, Morton's indifference towards insults and such beats even Ludwig's deafness against other people's opinions and Iggy's total inability to acknowledge jokes about him. Morton will only listen to critiques from his superiors, as Junior or Bowser, and rarely from his other siblings, and only when he is convinced he actually did make some mistakes. Hobbies and passions: For a long time Morton’s siblings claimed he actually had no real passions nor hobbies - he would just come over and help the others whatever they were doing, if asked. But they were wrong. Sure, Morton does enjoy helping or playing with his sibs, and will probably never say “no” if one of them ask him for help or company, but he actually has some hobbies on his own. Since childhood, for example, Morton has been fascinated by rocks - cool rocks, shiny rocks, perfectly-shaped stones and so on - and he actually started a collection for fun when he was little. Growing older, Morton started to actually *learn* about the rocks he was collecting, finding an interest in geology and later in ancient architecture, too. He his fascinated by ancient buildings, especially from distant cultures, and this curiosity actually inspired him to learn some theory about building and construction on one hand - and his family knows about it, since Morton was chosen as a Royal guest to co-lead some of the Super Kart Games’ courses projects - and to learn ancient languages on the other hand - but almost nobody seems to know this. In recent years he also found out he likes to cook… or at least, he likes to try it. He’s still a bit insecure and his fear of burning himself with the grill or the oven will usually lead to a overcooked meal, but he is really trying his best to impress Junior most of all. Morton also likes ducks, a lot. He started buying duck-related accessories for his outfits, rubber ducks of all sizes and also some duck plushies since the day he saw real ducks for the first time during a mission - a duck mom with her ducklings swimming peacefully in a crystalline lake near the Rock-Candy Mines. He now wishes to have a pet duck someday.

Relationships:

With his siblings: Morton is protective by nature, and him being giant mixes well with it. Even since he was quite young, he has always tried to help taking care and watching over the others - even to the point of snitching on them if needed when they were doing dangerous stuff. He can now literally work as a walking wall and deflect powerful attacks with his own body, but also making company and - mostly silently - support to his sibs in a “I-am-here-if-you-need-but-won’t-talk-if-you-don’t-ask-me-first” kind of way.

Now, for each relationship with the siblings:

Ludwig: Ludwig likes to boss him around, knowing Morton will likely follow his orders. Morton does it, but only because he’s firmly convinced that Ludwig is a good leader for the bunch. The two don’t spend much time together otherwise, but Morton is the only one that volunteers to listen to Ludwig WIPs or rough pieces from time to time, even if Ludwig will spend the whole day trying and editing and re-trying the same piece.

Lemmy: Lemmy and Morton have a chill relationship. Lemmy knows that if he wants to hug someone for no reason, Morton will always be happy to be the target. When fighting together against some enemies, Lemmy tends to jump over Morton’s big shell when fighting melee, creating a funny duo of the biggest and the smallest of the family. Morton allows Lemmy to ride his shoulders too from time to time, when the latter is tired from his trainings and all.

Roy: Roy is sort of trying to maintain a sort of rivalry between the two… without much success. Roy knows he can play rough with Morton without hurting him, and they do often train together - but Morton is also the one defending the others from Roy’s occasional bullying or critiques, details that bothers the pink one a bit.

Iggy: Morton and Iggy spend quite a lot of time together, especially during hikings in the Dark Lands looking for plants, animals and minerals, or when Iggy needs a silent company while working on a project. Iggy is also the one taking notes on Morton’s progress with speech and grammar, usually offering his time to “teach big ol’ Morton some new conjunctions!”, and also noting all the smart ideas the dark-scaled brother comes up with, ready to use them to defend him in front of the others.

Wendy: The two don’t interact very much, but Wendy, like Ludwig, bosses him around from time to time, mostly for muscle work - especially if she wasn’t able to convince Roy. Morton is the one that usually carries all her luggages when traveling, the one that helps her while redecorating her bedroom with new furniture and that offers to carry her shopping bags - but he will do it without needing much effort. She will sometimes bring Morton with her during her beauty-days-out in return for all his favors.

Larry: Larry is one of the two brothers Morton feels like his own responsibility. He will watch over him during missions and will try to keep him safe - even if Larry is now capable of doing this himself. Larry often complains about Morton's “baby-sitting” thing claiming that there is only 1 year of difference between the two, but Morton won't listen. Larry is hyperactive, clumsy and most of all, younger than Morton? Then Morton will continue watching over him like a good big brother. They also often spend time together playing games, along with Junior and sometimes Iggy, too.

Bowser Junior: Morton and Junior are best pals. Junior considers the dark-scaled brother his “buddy” and will choose him over the others for everything they have to do together, from playing to go on missions to go on trips and so on. Morton will do his best to protect the little Prince during quests and to keep him happy in general - he even started to cook thinking about Junior's always-demanding belly. Morton is also the only one that can resist the Heir's brattiness at its full power, with an infinite patience that even Ludwig envies.

* * *

With King Bowser: Morton is the only one that calls Bowser “KING DAD” or “ROYAL DAD” in the family. He mostly treats Bowser as his superior rather than as a father, with a soldier-like attitude when reporting to him, but he actually acknowledges him as his adoptive parent. Bowser is aware of Morton’s loyalty and strength, and will likely send him in difficult missions knowing he won’t get hurt, even if he’s one of the youngest.

With his mother (OC): They had a good relationship. Morton was the most obedient and less chaotic kid of the whole bunch, and their mother was actually grateful for that. He always wanted to help and was the one that snitched on his siblings when they did things they should not, always angering them for this. With the Mario Bros., Princess Peach and Mushroom Kingdom: Morton can be soft as bread with his friends but dangerous as heck with his enemies. Since the Mario Bros. are enemies to the Dark Lands Crown, Morton will fight them with all his resources when on his way. During truces, though, Morton will mostly be neutral around them - for example, during the Super Kart official competitions in the Mushroom Kingdom. Morton is instead quite nice and kind - in his own way - with the Princess, never treating her badly and actively asking her to bake stuff together when she happens to be a “guest” at the castle. Least but not last, Morton will lead attacks to the Kingdom’s borders when ordered, but he normally doesn’t really care about it.

Peculiarities & co.

Left handed: Just like his youngest brother, Morton is naturally left handed. He trained himself to use his right hand as swell while fighting with melee weapons, to be as versatile as possible.

Speech: Morton seems to have a hard time talking. He often talks without conjunctions or with evident grammar errors, and refers to himself in third person. He is also very loud when he talks, usually scaring smaller creatures (Lemmy included) when he starts to speak out of the blue. His writing is very concise but usually more refined than his speech (even if he still uses the third person). Roy often jokes that Morton is just faking it and is only trying to build up a characteristic character for himself, while Larry thinks Morton’s a genius because he’s the one spending less energy talking like that. Oddly enough, if Morton is reading aloud an ancient poetry or translating an ancient language on the spot, he will talk perfectly and with the right intonation. Body quirks and special abilities: Partial melanism aside, Morton’s body is a mystery. He is way bigger than the average Royal Koopa of his age and gender, but also strong and resilient as a rock. He has darker plaque-like scales protecting his arms, legs and tail, which mixed with his Tarrasquin’s impenetrable shell makes Morton a sort of walking tank. He can resist most types of non-magical attacks and injuries, and he actually heals quite rapidly. His health is exceptional and the palace doctors don’t recall him having ever been ill. For some unknown reasons, his stomach seems capable of digesting almost anything, while being resistant to toxins and poison. Lethal doses for any other creature would leave Morton just sick for a while.

Random Facts:

He didn’t talk in caps-lock when he was a hatchling, probably because he was too tiny and his voice wasn’t strong enough.

Legends even say there was an ancient time in which Morton was very small and talked normally, and A LOT. Nobody knows if this is true.

He has a super refined handwriting. Ludwig envies it.

He’s actually the only one in the family, Bowser included, that follows an actual balanced diet for a Tarrasquin: he eats all the meat that the species normally need, but also a good amount of fruits and vegetables. He will eat fish and seafood in general, and any kind of sweet from time to time. He is the opposite of a picky eater.

His siblings often give him the food they don’t want. Most of it is veggies. Morton will eat it all without question.

Morton is the only one Junior will genuinely listen to: he’s concise and will just say what he has to say. Junior appreciates that.

Junior will often ask for Morton to play together with LEGO-Laz (or whatever LEGO-like brand they have in SM world lel) since Morton’s skill in creating whole scenes with it is unbeaten in the whole castle. He will sometimes spend an entire night fitting the pieces together. And if they need to dismantle some pieces, Morton will do with a single punch.

They say he can break a rock with a punch. They do not know he can also break rocks with headbutts.

In reality, the Super Kart organizators asked him for help during construction because of this - he could destroy small but hard rock with great precision and low effort. But then they actually discovered Morton’s passion about the whole building thing, and let him co-lead the constructions along with the demolitions.

To Bowser’s relief, Morton actually shares the name with a great-grandfather from the King’s bloodline. The “Jr” thing will still make sense… kind of.

When he’ll grow older, he’ll let grow a short sort-of-a-mullet of black hair. Nobody in the family will like that.

Once Morton is asleep, you *can't* really wake him up on purpose. You can try, of course, but legends says he won't wake up neither under a Bob-Omb shower - not until he is rested enough.

When he was in the egg, there was a white star-shaped mark on his egg as well. Same thing for Larry.

Both his egg and Larry's were from the same clutch, but for unknown reasons Morton hatched over 1 year before Larry. Dragon eggs behave strangely from time to time...

#koopalings #morton koopa jr #headcanon #personal hc/au #my art #bowser koopa #super mario #text #child of sardior

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onlygoldwillsuffice · 2 years ago

Text

Dendroaspis Polylepis

Tom Riddle x Reader

For mature audiences only

This is my first time writing smut in any form, sorry if it's corny or confusing LOL

I tried to make this one longer than the last, I hope you enjoy (but i barely proofread it)

Read the first part here

Content: non-con (sort of), general smut, fem-bodied reader, questionable power dynamics, inappropriate use of parseltongue, snake-related innuendos, manipulation, slight dumbification, orgasm denial, overall dark themes - READ AT YOUR OWN RISK

Word Count: 5.3k+

Summary: A certain cloaked mamba you know proves to be dangerous when provoked.

Notes (Please read or confusion will follow) - This fanfiction is an AU where Parseltongue has the capabilities of mind-control, similar to Legilimency. The mechanics of this ability will be further elaborated upon in the story. Tom also has his own bedroom since he's the head boy.

Special thanks to everyone who interacted with my last post, you're all so sweet! <33

Taglist: @eyukkie, @ravenclawh0re18, @catherine1x I tried to get a little creative for this one, hopefully it's not too disappointing ( ´ ▽ ` )

The dendroaspis polylepis, most monotonously known as the black mamba, is often associated with danger, fear, and mortality. Its reputation as a deadly predator has contributed to its formidable image, and it is widely regarded as a symbol of danger and intimidation due to its highly venomous bite.

Its notoriety is defined by its speed, dexterity, and stealth, capable of striking without the slightest warning. The black mamba is considered highly aggressive and will attack others if threatened or cornered.

The black mamba's appearance is characterized by its sleek scales and dark coloration, ranging from grey, olive, brown, and of course, black. In addition, it has a distinctive sarcophagus-shaped head and a long, thin tongue, which it uses to assess its surroundings and locate prey.

Its streamlined and elegant form is beautiful and intimidating, eliciting both admiration and fear in those who encounter it.

_______________________________

More than a week has passed since the Slytherin head boy confronted you.

No matter where you went, a pair of ashen-colored eyes followed. But it wasn’t like before, when it was simply a gaze that held a distant vigil over you.

Instead, it had taken on a new form—an ominous sort of fervor that seemed to burn within its depths. It was cruel in nature, with a vehemence that appeared to be begging for bloodshed with every glance.

However, you didn’t regret your actions in undermining Tom Riddle, even though it was a risky move. In fact, you enjoyed the slight rush it gave you when you left him as good as speechless under the stars that night.

You sat at your dorm desk, leafing through the last of the week’s homework, relieved to know you would be heading to Hogsmeade for the weekend the next day.

Professor Beery had planned a trip for your herbology class to take a look at some of the rare plants the locals had shipped in, and he figured it would do you and your classmates some good to study their behaviors and practical applications.

Finally, you’ll be free from the prying eyes of You-Know-Who, at least for a couple of days.

The following morning, you made your way to your friends’ dormitory to leave your pet snake with them since you couldn’t take her along.

You found her egg four years ago, nestled alone in an abandoned den, fighting off a few predators to protect the fragile shell. Ever since she hatched in your bedroom back at your parents’ place, the two of you have been practically inseparable.

After you knocked on the door, it creaked open to reveal your friend Maselle.

“Hey,” you said with a smile, “I just wanted to drop off my snake with you for the weekend.” “Can you look after her while I’m away?”

“Of course,” she replied, taking the snake’s small enclosure from your hands. “We’ll have a great time, won’t we?” She looked at the snake, who flicked her tongue out in response.

“Thank you so much,” you said, expressing your gratitude. “She’s pretty low maintenance, just make sure she has enough water and keep an eye on her. She likes to explore.” Maselle chuckled, “No problem. Safe travels!”

You waved goodbye and headed to the Great Hall for breakfast, solace building in your chest for the trip ahead. You met up with the rest of your classmates, who were eagerly discussing the plants they hoped to encounter during the excursion.

As you ate, you sensed a glaring presence upon you and instantly knew where it was coming from. You understood it was in your best interest to dismiss it, but the force of it was strong enough to make you reluctantly turn your head and look towards the Slytherin table.

Riddle sat there in his usual pompous posture, surrounded by his cronies. His stony eyes were locked onto yours, but it was nothing you weren’t used to at this point.

You finished your meal and joined your classmates as you all made your way to the Hogwarts Express.

The train ride was filled with laughter and excitement, and you couldn’t help but feel lighter, knowing that you’d be away from Riddle and his aggravating presence for a while.

Once you arrived in Hogsmeade, your group went to the townlet greenhouse, where the rare plants were being kept. Professor Beery led the way, excitedly explaining the origins and properties of each plant as you and your classmates took notes and asked questions.

The day went by in a blur of fascinating facts and hands-on learning. Nevertheless, it was a welcome respite from the tense atmosphere at Hogwarts, and you wished that you could stay in Hogsmeade just a little longer.

But eventually, the weekend came to an end, and you and the rest of the class boarded the train to return to the castle.

_______________________________

Once you got back, things were... off.

For the past three weeks, you felt a persistent pounding within your head that would come and go with no particular pattern. And as a result, you felt light-headed on an almost daily basis and often struggled to find any appetite for food.

Even your emotional state was as unpredictable as the weather, constantly shifting and changing. Or, there would be times when you would be in the middle of a conversation or doing a task, and your train of thought would suddenly vanish into thin air.

By Merlin, were you getting sick?

Surely it’s nothing to worry about. You must have caught a bug being around all those plants.

But that wasn’t the only odd thing. Tom was no longer watching you.

In fact, it seemed he paid no mind to you at all. He would only glance your way when he could sense your eyes on him.

It’s not that you minded. You just weren’t expecting his behavior to take such a 180-degree turn.

Good.

He should leave you alone, and you should be able to go about your day without feeling under close scrutiny every time he enters the same room as you.

You dismissed the idle thoughts, and the specter of upcoming OWLS and assignments loomed over you, forcing you to focus on your studies first and foremost.

But, due to your declining health, you had trouble sleeping a lot of nights. And the lack of rest took a toll on you, making it difficult to concentrate in your classes.

Unfortunately, potions, a class that happened to be scheduled as the last one of most days of the week, was particularly arduous to sit through as it became commonplace for you to drift off during lectures.

Professor Slughorn, your potions teacher, noticed your situation and, being the kind-hearted man that he was, offered you a few after-school lessons to help you catch up with your work. Grateful for his concern, you accepted his offer without hesitation.

After a successful lesson, you packed up your belongings, feeling more confident about your understanding of potion-making.

As you were about to leave, Professor Slughorn called out to you. “Ah, before you go,” he said, holding up a textbook, “Tom left this behind. Could you please return it to him?”

You hesitated, not wanting to be bothered with Tom, especially at this hour. “But Professor, it’s already pretty late. It’s likely that he’s already asleep.” Professor Slughorn chuckled. “I’m sure he won’t mind, and to sweeten the deal, I’ll reward your house with 15 points if you do this small favor for me.”

You realized you couldn’t debate against him for much longer, and the thought of earning points for your house made you reconsider, so you reluctantly agreed. “Alright, I’ll do it.”

“Thank you, my dear,” he said warmly, handing you the textbook.

Besides, it can’t be that bad anyway.

Tom’s the kind of man who never deviates from his bedtime routine, retiring at nine o’clock on the dot, so you’d probably be able to pass the textbook to one of his fangirls the next day, who are always eager to do him a favor.

You took the book and set off for Tom’s chambers, praying fervently that your errand would be a nonexistent or at least quick one.

_______________________________

As you approached the threshold of his bedroom, your steps echoed off the walls, bouncing back at you with an eerie silence.

You steeled your nerves, inhaling deeply before lightly rapping your knuckles against the door. You knocked as gently as possible, not wanting to risk waking him if he really was asleep. And quite frankly, you didn’t want to deal with whatever lay behind the room before you.

“Enter,” called a baritone voice from the other side.

Your stomach sank—just your damn luck.

You cautiously opened the door to find him standing by a small kitchenette set up in the corner of the room.

Taking a glance around the surrounding area, you notice it’s much larger than you expected.

Very organized. Very Tom.

Antique yew furniture, hardwood floors, a few paintings of influential (and particularly dark) witches and wizards like Salazar Slytherin, and a large circular Persian rug in the epicenter of the room.

You notice a warm glow from a masonry fireplace covered with intricately painted tiles against one wall and towering bookcases filled to the brim with novels in languages you couldn’t decipher, accompanied by assorted trinkets spread along another.

The gentle light from a few sparsely placed lamps illuminated only parts of the room here and there, leaving much of it cloaked in mystery.

But your attention is quickly pulled back to Tom, who greets you with a tilt of his head and a smile that doesn’t quite reach his eyes.

“Come in.” His firm tone makes his words sound more like a command than an invitation.

You hesitate before taking a few more steps into the room, but before you know it, you find yourself standing in the center.

“I wasn’t expecting a visitor so late tonight,” he says, a hint of false curiosity in his voice.

“Look, Tom, I’m just here to-,” he cuts you off.

“Oh, I know what you’re here for. But, unfortunately, I couldn’t retrieve it myself as I was busy with other matters. Care for some tea? I hear it’s good for restless nights like these,” he said, gesturing towards the ornate pot beside him.

“No thanks,” you immediately decline. “Gosh, Y/N. You don’t need to be so suspicious of me all the time,” he softly chuckles.

You can’t help but roll your eyes - after all, this is a man who’s been stalking you for the better part of a year.

An unnerving stillness fills the room as he turns up the heat on the stovetop. He turns around to look at you, his back leaning casually against the counter.

“You know, I really missed you while you were gone,” he trails off and looks away for a moment before finally meeting your gaze again. “How was your trip?”

Letting out an impatient sigh, you feel your feet shift on the ground beneath you, and you begin to tap your foot in irritation, not wanting to stay any longer than necessary. “Is there a point to this conversation, Tom? I need to get back,” you asserted.

Tom smiles and nods before slowly turning around to finish boiling the water. He grabs a tea bag of what looks to be chamomile and carefully lowers it into the pot.

As you wait for the seconds to tick by, he fills up an awaiting mug with the steaming liquid, taking a leisurely sip before setting it down and turning towards you to speak again.

“I wanted to apologize for the other night,” he begins. “What I said and the way I acted may have been a little bit out of line, and I dread that I’ve given you a bad impression of me. Still, I hope you can understand that I was just trying to do my job as a student. You never know what intentions some people might have, especially within the walls of a school like Hogwarts.”

You felt frustration overtake you as you acknowledged that your attempt to keep the interaction short quickly became an impossibility. “I wasn’t bothered by it,” you respond. “You can consider yourself redeemed if you just take back your textbook-” He interrupts you again. “Let me make it up to you, Y/N.”

He begins to walk towards you, sending a knot of trepidation through your stomach.

“Tom, seriously. I really don’t mind,” you protest. His domineering aura seems to swell with each step he takes, and you become acutely aware of how much bigger he is than you. And it’s not that you’re particularly short by any means; it’s just that he’s freakishly tall.

Time seemed to stand still as you parted your lips again to make your words more transparent, determined to finally leave.

“Did you hear me, Tom? I said I-” Two large hands abruptly snaked around your waist with a tight and unforgiving grip, startling you and snipping off any chance of finishing your sentence. Your heart races as fear and confusion erupt over you at the unexpected intrusion.

He’s definitely crossed the line now.

Your instinctive reaction forces your muscles to tense as a surge of indignation permeates your being. How dare he lay his hands on you like this? You attempt to raise your hands, ready to shove him back, but... that’s strange.

Why can’t you move?

You look up at him with wide eyes, only to see cold and unkind ones staring back down at you. Fear as hot as molten lava pumps swiftly through your body as his disfavored presence engulfs every corner of the room. He towers above you, a daunting force that cannot be ignored.

“What’s the matter?” He asks, his tone dripping with condescension. “You look like you saw a ghost.”

Tom reached into the depths of his robes and pulled out his wand, a thin shaft of aged wood. Then, with a fluid swish, the room went dark, with the only lingering light coming from a handful of candles scattered throughout.

As he focuses his attention back on you, he takes note of the puzzled expression on your face and takes it upon himself to explain what’s happening, “graciously” filling in the missing pieces for you.

He utters a word as ancient as time, a single string of syllables resonating with power and strength. “Parseltongue...” he trails off. He whispers into your ear, and for a second, you could swear you were hearing not just with your ears but also with your mind--as if he were speaking directly to it. His words curled around your head, internally and externally, sending shivers down your spine.

He pulls you closer to him and strokes the curve of your cheekbone with his finger. His breath is warm on your skin, and his voice is low, giving off an intimate whisper that fills you with forbidden vitality.

“And you’re right, Y/N,” he says softly, his pillowy lips barely brushing against your ear. “How could I have been so careless? Letting just anyone see me speak such a socially inappropriate language”, his finger still trailing feathery lines on your pretty face. His lips are so very close. Your heart begins to pound in your chest as the anticipation becomes almost too much for you to bear.

You struggle and write, desperately attempting to break free from his iron grasp, but to no avail. With a quiet hiss, his lips parted to reveal a mamba-like tongue. It curled between your own, completely enveloping you in a rough, disordered kiss.

His tongue is warm and languid, moving languorously around your mouth as if it has all the time in the world. The moment's intensity advances as he wraps you up in darkness, forming an impenetrable prison of human contact.

His soft moans swarm your ears before he finally pulls away from you, leaving a thin, glistening strand of saliva linking your parted mouths - evidence of the lewd kiss that had just taken place. His eyes scan your stupefied face with satisfaction, pleased at his ability to put you in such a state.

“Most people know Parseltongue gives someone the ability to speak to snakes, but very few know about the other power it holds.”

As he speaks, you feel a chill run down your spine, sensing that there’s more to the story. And you’re right.

“I spend a lot of time in the restricted section of the library,” he says, steering you backward by your hips.

“Searching for any book that could grant me more power than I already possess, and I happened to stumble upon something interesting about a year ago. Something that very few ever find out about.” His voice descended into reverential silence, as if he were weighing up the situation and deciding how much to reveal.

“The use of Parseltongue on a non-Parseltongue speaker can have manipulating effects only under very specific circumstances.” You feel your ass bump against his desk, and seconds later, he lifts you up, placing you on its hard surface.

“Proficiency and fluency in Parseltongue are paramount for anyone wishing to manipulate another person with their words,” he purred, his voice as smooth as silk. His tongue trailed a languid path along your jawline, leaving you weak at the knees.

“And the non-Parseltongue speaker must have or be in a state of vulnerability that the speaker can exploit.” His words seemed to contain a hidden power, like each syllable would take on a life of its own.

“This could manifest in many different ways -- from being under the influence of a strong potion or spell to enduring a great deal of emotional turmoil.” He waves his hand over your chest, and without even touching you, his intonations seem to make the buttons on your shirt undo themselves as if of their own volition.

“Perhaps they have endured past trauma, harbored unfulfilled desires, or been crippled by overwhelming fears.” He redoubles his effort as he traces intricate designs over your neck and collarbone, artfully balancing pain and pleasure within you.

“If the speaker is able to tap into the listener’s vulnerabilities and use Parseltongue to amplify those feelings or emotions, well, the listener can be controlled at the deepest levels to do just about anything.” You feel his warm hands slide up your smooth thigh and past your flimsy skirt. “Down to their very thoughts, emotions, as well as…physical being.”

Calloused fingertips began gliding over the thin fabric covering your clit. Every pass of them sent tingles of pleasure to the sensitive region between your thighs, earning a few yelps out of you--sounds that only spurred the growing hardness in his pants.

“In the most extreme circumstances, with those bold enough to practice dark magic, it can even induce a trance-like or petrifying state of mind where the listener is devoid of all sense of time and space, leaving them totally in submission to the speaker’s demands.”

Almost like the one you’re in.

His hands squeeze your upper thighs, pushing up your skirt ever so slightly. “Parseltongue works in unique ways, though, and it’s only effective when the target is not in a position to resist.”

“Unfortunately, however, you didn’t seem to have any of those vulnerabilities. And believe me, I asked around. Your friends, professors - it seemed like no one really knew anything about you.” You felt a pang of disappointment as his body withdrew from yours, and you involuntarily bit your lip at the thought of his touch.

“How could I possibly get to you, I wondered?”

“So I started by retracing my steps.” He began to disrobe, letting his heavy cloak slide gracefully off his shoulders and discarding it onto a hanger beside the door.

“I looked over the book again to see if there was anything useful to me, and as fate would have it, I overlooked a page. There was one last way to control someone with Parseltongue. A strong connection, a mental link... specifically through snakes.” He carefully pressed the fabric down, ensuring it was hung up neatly and securely, before turning back around.

“I was honestly surprised, wondering what I had done to be so fortunate.” He let out a low chuckle, and the true implications of his words began to dawn on you. Every beat of your heart was like an overturned stone as you realized what he was implying.

Tom’s voice was low and menacing as he recounted the details, savoring his newfound power over you. “Your friend, the one who had your snake while you were gone, she talks too much,” he explained, a smirk playing at the corners of his lips. “It didn’t take long to learn about your dear companion.” He started walking towards you again as he spoke.

“I gave her some generous flattery, and when I requested to spend some time with your little pet, it was quickly met.” His muscular arms moved carefully to take up a post on both sides of you, effectively trapping you between them.

“At that point, all there was left for me to do was plant some seeds into your precious snake, slowly feeding it sounds that it would imitate and eventually take form in your subconscious.”

Your visit to Hogsmeade was meant to be a refreshing and carefree trip, but instead, Tom turned into the site of a wicked plan, using your unsuspecting pet as the tool for his manipulation.

You stared at him in disbelief. Was this even possible? Could your snake really be influencing you without your knowledge?

Tom seemed to read your thoughts. “Yes, the mind is an incredibly powerful tool. And when combined with the right kind of magic, anything is possible.” He paused for effect before finishing his sentence with a slight glimmer in his eyes.

You felt a chill run down your spine as the full extent of what he had done set in. You could almost hear the sibilant hiss of your snake as Tom spoke, and the image made you shudder involuntarily. The thought of being under the influence of something you had no control over, something that was affecting your health, thoughts, and emotions, was a terrifying prospect.

“Don’t look at me like that, Y/N.” He pleads softly, his strong arms scooping you up from your plush thighs off the desk and cradling you close as he carries you across the room to his bed.

Even under the dim candlelight, his eyes were burning with intensity as if begging for something more.

As he continued speaking, you couldn't help but notice how his voice seemed to wrap around your mind, manipulating your senses just like he had done with your snake. It was almost hypnotic in its power, as if he could will you to listen and obey his every word.

“I have always been fascinated by the power of Parseltongue. It’s a language only a select few can understand, and even fewer can speak. But with great power comes great responsibility. And I, my dear, am not one to shy away from responsibility.”

The fear that had permeated your bones dissipated, replaced by a different, unfamiliar feeling. His words seemed to drift away, and the deep-rooted desire between your legs suddenly became more pronounced. You felt your breath come in short, shallow pants, wanting something without knowing what it was. You wanted his touch, and you wanted it bad. It was an urge that seemed to be calling out from within you.

Tom laid you tenderly on the edge of his neatly-made bed, his gaze transfixed entirely on you.

“Oh sweetheart, what I wouldn’t give for you if only you knew how to make the right choices,” he whispered.

He slowly ran the calloused pad of this thumb along your now tender lips. The faintest of sighs escaped him as he observed them pucker and contort under his caress.

“But I suppose having you like this will do for now,” he purred before inclining his head and pressing his soft lips against yours.

His hand found its way to the back of your neck, holding you in place as he pulled away with a smile. “Let’s make it last. Now keep still.”

You did as you were told, closing your eyes and relaxing into the pillow. He flicked his tongue along the skin at the base of your throat, blazing a slow path down to your collarbone. He lingered there momentarily before continuing to your breasts, his teeth softly grazing around each nipple before delivering gentle bites that sent borderline electric shocks through you.

Tom seemed to sense your arousal, and he used his other hand to pull up your skirt, leaving it bunched up around your waist.

Trailing his fingertips down, he slipped off your panties, exposing the swollen nub that was far too neglected for both yours and his liking. Not to worry, though. He was determined to set it right.

He dipped his head down, showering you with the warmth of his breath as he bullied the sensitive skin beneath your belly button.

You could feel his soft cheeks on your inner thigh as he moved lower, and you suddenly felt the tip of his tongue licking at your slit. He continued to taste and tease you, occasionally stopping to place an open-mouthed kiss on your clit, eliciting a mewl from you.

Tom hummed in approval, kissing it once more before trailing his tongue along your labia, gently lapping at the juices already starting to flow from your vagina.

You couldn't help but squirm as he slowly made his way up to the top of your cunt.

You arched your back, trying to get closer to him as he nibbled at your flesh, mapping out the contours of your folds with his tongue. His hands moved from your waist, skimming up the sides of your ribs and onto your breasts, gently squeezing and massaging them as he continued to feast on the spot beneath your abdomen.

You were lost in a sea of your thoughts, desires, and emotions, unsure if they were truly your own or just the seeds Tom had sowed. It didn’t matter, though, for he had become an escape for you--a way for you to forget about everything else. He was giving your body the attention it so desperately craved, and in return, you granted him complete control over you.

Tom continued his exploration, slipping two fingers inside your slippery cunt as he used his other hand to massage your clitoris in circles. Every touch felt more profound than the last, making it difficult for you not to whimper from the intense pleasure inundating you.

You felt your mind go witless, your thoughts growing hazy with every movement he made. His long fingers descended inside you slowly and deliberately, coaxing you closer to the edge. But before you could reach the peak of ecstasy, he withdrew them and moved back from you to unfasten his dark slacks. You heard the faint sound of a zipper being pulled down as he spoke in a gravelly whisper.

“Go on,” Tom said softly, his voice fluttering slightly. “Touch yourself for me.”

You didn’t need to be told twice. All you wanted was to feel his thick cock pushing its way past your entrance—an intrusion that would bring about nothing but pleasure. Your hands moved up to your breasts, shamelessly pinching and rubbing the nipples between your fingertips as you thought about Tom’s lush cock in you.

He leaned forward, and you gasped as you felt something hard and thick, probing its way inside your canal, igniting an overwhelming sensation within. Your walls were already slick with his saliva, enabling him to slide in effortlessly.

You wrapped your legs around his waist as tightly as possible, eagerly pulling him closer as pure bliss consumed your entire being.

“Tom!” you cried out, You could feel him growing harder against you, his pace picking up as your moans got louder.

Tom’s hand reached down again and captured your clit between his fingers, chafing it roughly as his cock mercilessly pounded into you.

As you approached the glorious return of the orgasm that previously left you, your entire body tensed in anticipation, wanting to make it last as long as possible. But unfortunately, Tom had other plans.

His action was met with a plaintive whine when he abruptly pulled away from you, lifting you off the bed and settling you on his lap, eyes level with his. His hands were almost painfully tight around your waist, keeping you securely in place.

He guided you down onto his still-throbbing member, watching intently as you pathetically began bouncing on it. His damp ebony locks hung like a curtain around his face, and his half-lidded eyes were full of longing, looking at the flickers of pleasure that crossed your face as every inch of him filled you up.

You could feel his heart drumming, and every rigid breath he took seemed to reverberate within the space between you.

“Do you want to come?” he questioned, his voice tinged with a hint of mockery. You nodded your head so fast he was surprised it didn’t spin around and fall off your neck.

“Use your words and say it then,” he continued, clearly enjoying the idea of teasing you. “I can’t understand your mindless babbling.”

He was utterly clueless to the degree of torture he was putting you through, but you gathered what remained of the sense you had left and stammered out a barely coherent string of words.

“Pl-please, Tom,” your voice was shaking and frail as you begged pitifully. “L-let me come around your c-cock.” The desperation in your words and tone was evident as tears started welling up in your eyes.

Your whole existence was devoted to craving and conviction; only his touch could break the deep enchantment he had cast over you.

“There we go,’ he breathed gently into your ear before kissing away the last of your tears. “Now, was that so hard, princess?”

You felt serenity sweep over you as his lips left your skin, and in reply to the question, you shook your head from side to side.

"Ah, ah. Use your words," Tom reminded firmly as if he were scolding a misbehaving student.

You swallowed hard and forced the words out of your mouth. “No, it wasn’t h-hard at all," you voiced meekly. It was a lie, but you were relieved that you had been able to utter something.

Tom's lips stretched into a wide grin at your obedience, pleased that he had gotten the audible response he wanted.

He accelerated his rhythm, bucking his hips faster and faster into you. You could hardly keep up with him as you finally reached the point of no return, and contentment flared through every nerve in your body, causing you to shudder in ecstasy. You felt yourself squeeze around him tightly, internally gripping his throbbing cock as it pulsed within you.

His large frame trembled uncontrollably as he painted your insides with his hot seed, leaving a warm, sticky trail trickling down your thighs, mixing with your essence.

“Oh my god,” he breathed out. He placed his head on your chest, his body rising and falling rapidly as he recovered from his own orgasm.

He delicately entwined his fingers with yours, slowly tugging them towards him, and lifted his head to look at your satisfied expression before planting a gentle kiss on your lips, sealing this moment forever in both of your memories.

Never before had he felt such euphoria. It emanated from both of you in such a beautiful display that no one else could ever replicate or replace.

And sure, he may not have had you kneeling before him and pleading for absolution like he initially envisioned, but having you so entirely at his mercy like this was a more satisfying form of retribution than he could ever have dreamed of. As you relinquished the last of your power to him, the look in your eyes spoke volumes—a much sweeter vindication than words could ever convey.

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