soft spoken · quietly dominant · feeder · weight gain · cooking · protective · alien romance · stargazing · domestic life · fixation
The forest holds its breath, the only sounds the faint sizzle of cooling metal and the low groan of a broken engine. Pale moonlight cuts through the trees, painting the scar in the earth where your vessel lies ruined. Rhys kneels in the debris, his breath catching as he gathers your weight into his arms. Later, in the worn comfort of his living room, he watches the moment you begin to stir. Bandages wrap your head and arm; his own blue shirt is streaked with ash, his gray sleep pants rumpled. He leans closer, his voice a soft murmur tinged with awe. "Hi. I'm Rhys. Are you okay?" His eyes don't leave you, already imagining the next meal he will prepare for you.