#crunch bones yap

[bonesvoid]

time to make this account multi-fandom cuz im currently obsessing over this one individual....... MAJOR thunderbolts spoilers

i love u bob <3 i love you in all formats (minus when they slick backed your hair in your sentry form, you deserved better) also hold me back from the void, i can fix it

[aurorawritestoescape]

CHERRY LIPS

Clint Flood x f!reader || 4,5 k

Summary: Clint and you have a simple relationship - you fuck each other and go on with your lives. Can it stay that way? What if one night changes everything?

Tw: 18+ mdni, smut, fluff, age gap (the size is up to you bb), stripper!reader, Cherry is her stage name (mentioned once), Clint is in love, protective!Clint, canon typical violence (not towards reader), bratty reader, lots of banter, praise kink, FEELINGS, mention of m!oral, unprotected piv, creampie, dirty talk, pet names, swearing, alcohol consumption (Clint has a beer). Reader has hair.

A/n: this started as a pwp but as usual turned into something else. I hope you’ll enjoy it❤️ Sweet kisses to @milla-frenchy for coming up with the title (inspired by the song Cherry Lips - Garbage) and for beta-ing! ILYSM!😘 Dividers by @huraxy

MASTERLIST || more Clint

You walk out of the club late at night after your shift and take a deep breath, filling your lungs with crisp air. It’s a little cold outside and a shiver runs down your spine, your skin erupts with goosebumps, but after heavy cigarette smoke of the club you relish the freshness of the night. Besides, you don’t have time to get really cold - a hot flash burns your insides when you see him waiting for you.

Clint is leaning against his blue Chevy, huge arms crossed in front of his chest, broad shoulders straining a black leather jacket. His glare tells everyone to ’fuck off’ and only to you it whispers ‘C’mere’. You bite your lip at the sight, your desire pulling you to him like a magnet.

“Hey, Cherry! How much for a bj?”

You roll your eyes, hearing some asshole shout behind you. Of fucking course. The motherfucker had the pleasure of seeing your tits, so now he feels entitled to trying the other goods out.

“I’m not a hooker, asshat. I’m a dancer,” you throw at him, not turning back, heading to the man you would give a hundred bj’s for free.

Clint’s scowl turns extra threatening when he hears the guy talk to you.

“Hey, Cowboy,” you purr, reaching the car, and Clint opens the door for you to get in, but his eyes are set on the man following you from the club.

“Are you her pimp?” the fucker asks, coming up to the car and getting into Clint’s face.

“Big mistake,” you mumble under your breath, already in the passenger seat. Through the window you watch him show Clint his index and middle fingers and yap,

“Your bitch owes me two lap dances.”

“Don’t call her that,” you hear Clint’s growl, quickly followed by a crunch of bones.

You look away in disgust and then see Clint walking around the car to the driver’s seat. The asshole is squealing on the ground, cradling his broken fingers, and you pop your head out of the window to smirk into his crying face, before Clint drives you off.

“How’s work, baby?” Clint asks as if nothing has happened, giving you a quick up and down look. After watching him stand up for you, there’s a risk of you sliding off the leather seat, but no way you’d show him how much his protection turns you on — you’re a strong independent woman after all.

“Uneventful,” you reply, grabbing a cassette tape from the glove compartment and sliding it into the player. “Well. Until you broke my client’s fingers.”

A song you love starts playing and you bob your head to the beat, humming under your nose. Clint seems to be focused on the road ahead but then he asks,

“Should I apologise?”

“No, he deserved it,” you reply with a shrug. “And I loveeeee when you’re protective of me.”

“Don’t say this word.”

“What? ‘Love’?” You furrow your brows, hearing his growl. “C’mon Cowboy, you said it, I didn’t, what’s the big deal?”

Clint doesn’t reply and keeps silently driving you through the empty streets, but electricity in the air is palpable.

Familiar feeling crawls into your chest - a mixture of guilt and anger, and as soon as it pangs your heart, you get defensive.

“Quit working for the mob and maybe I’ll change my mind. Your life's too messy for me.”

“Messy,” he repeats slowly, his thumb drumming against the steering wheel. ”Yours isn’t? That dick coulda attacked you.”

“I doubt it. But if he had, I would’ve used a pepper spray. And the mess you’re in—,” you pause, pointing a finger at the man, ”no amount of pepper spray would help with that.”

Clint chuckles bitterly, glancing your way.

”You’re too wise for your age, you know that?”

You smirk and turn to him in your seat.

“Oh, I bet you’d want me to be a lil bimbo, huh?” You make your voice higher and squeeze your breasts together between your arms, pushing them out, as you blabber, “Big clever man, please, teach me life, while I’m sucking your fat cock!”

Clint chuckles, shaking his head, but his paw darts down to adjust a prominent bulge in his jeans.

“You’re funny.”

“So what am I? Wise or funny?”

“Both, I guess.”

“Ok. Whatever you say, handsome,” you shrug and throw your shoes off. You put your feet on Clint’s lap and he rests his free hand on your ankle. His warm touch makes you purr like a cat and you melt against the seat.

You two are driving in silence, only music filling the car, both in your own thoughts, until you see his house.

Clint’s place is simply decorated, clean and always dimly lit. You love it- after strobing lights of the club your eyes and mind can finally rest, your soul feels at peace. There you’re always on high alert, your guard is constantly up - half naked, glitter on your skin and in your hair, you can’t help but feel like a prey that’s inviting a predator, grinding on some guy who would have happily taken you by force if not for the security.

At Clint’s house you unwind, relax, take a deep breath of his scent and feel yourself protected, cared for, loved.

‘Loved’.

Clint never says it now, the word alone makes his chest rumble with thunder. He did once and your reaction surprised you both. You laughed. Then you got furious.

You’d been seeing each other for a few weeks and his confession was unexpected but also cruel. Those three little words made your relationship complicated and dangerous for you. Like a rope tied around your wrists, bonding you to him. How long till that rope would be around your neck?

Clint always thought that he was invincible, a warrior no one could fuck with. But what about you? You’d seen too much shit happen to girls because of their men and you didn’t want to be one of them. So you fucked him and went on with your life. He fucked you and went on with his.

“Gonna take a shower. Wanna join me?” you purr, pressing your palms to Clint’s strong chest, when you two step into his place.

”I’m good. I’ll wait for you.”

He leans in and kisses your pouty lips. Soon they part and he hums at the taste of cherry, your favorite lip gloss flavor.

You come back soon wearing his band tee, big enough to cover your ass, and a black thong. Clint’s waiting for you on the couch, nursing a beer in his hand, deep in thoughts as usual. His leather jacket discarded, you bite your lip seeing him in a flannel shirt over a grey Hanley. The broadness of his torso, the spread of his thighs make you gush into your fresh panties.

“How was your day, honey?” you trill with a smile, padding to the cassette player on the drawer. Clint sighs and takes a sip of his beer.

“Fine.”

“Sounds like it,” you mumble and slide the cassette you made for him into the deck. You rewind it to the song you sometimes dance to at the club and smile, enjoying the sexy tune. As if by itself your body starts moving and you turn to Clint, seductively swaying your hips, your hands slowly pulling the hem of your tee up, exposing more of your body.

You saunter to the couch and stop between Clint’s legs.

“You don’t have to dance for me,” he utters, but his eyes take in everything you’re giving him.

“I know I don’t have to-,” you smirk, turning around. “I want to.”

With your back to the couch you bend over, showing off your ass, your palms gliding over your naked legs, your skin erupting in goosebumps. You bring your hand to your covered pussy and trace your seam over the wet fabric. A moan falls out of your mouth, loud enough for Clint to hear even through the music. The man growls, his obsidian eyes set on the place that’s throbbing desperately for him.

You straighten up and turn around, facing him again. Clint licks his lips, his Adam apple bobs, and you feel giddy inside seeing how turned on he is because of you. Making people horny is literally your job, but only with Clint you feel a thrill as if you’re dancing for someone for the first time.

To push him further you lift your bare foot, put it on his denim-clad thigh and slowly drag it up, up to his big bulge. When your foot slightly pushes his clothed cock, you take a sharp breath - he’s rock hard under his jeans.

Suddenly Clint grabs your ankle and pulls you to him, making you fall on his lap with a gasp.

“Bad Cowboy,” you scold him, giggling and straddling his thick thighs. Your nails dig into his shoulders as a punishment but he doesn’t even flinch.

“Quit your teasing.”

He sits up, holding you close with one arm wrapped around you, and places the unfinished beer on the side table. His strong body against yours, the way he holds you like a doll, sends a bolt of lightning to your core, and you bite your lip, suppressing a needy whimper.

Clint leans back on the couch and slides his hands under your tee. They’re so big and warm on your hips, that you purr at the feeling.

Then you bring your index finger to his face and trace a line that goes from the bridge of his nose down to his cheekbone.

“When are you gonna tell me how you got this scar?”

Clint scratches the place that you’ve tickled and gruffs,

“When you behave.”

“Never then. ‘k.” Your laughter lightens up the room and Clint shakes his head with a soft smile.

After a few moments of silence you ask,

“Why do you never come see me dance at the club?”

“I don’t go to strip clubs.”

Your brows shoot up as you remind him,

“Didn’t we meet there, Cowboy?”

Clint shifts his jaw and replies,

”Yeah, but I was working. You know it.”

“Oh, yes!” You tilt your head to the side and reminisce, ”You were so cute. Trying not to stare at my tits when I was dancing for your boss.”

You remember that day like it was yesterday. The pull you felt when you saw Clint for the first time - tall and broad, dangerous-looking. A pair of grabby hands were creeping over your body, no one would dare to stop a mob boss from groping a stripper, but you didn’t care. All your attention was focused on his enforcer, standing in the shadows. You weren’t dancing for the asshole in the chair, you were dancing for Clint.

After the lap dance, you managed to sneak a paper with your phone number into his palm and he called you the next day.

A smile tugs at Clint’s lips as he mumbles, looking almost shy,

“‘Cute’. No one ever calls me ‘cute’.”

“That’s because you’re cute only for me.” You slowly lean down and give him a teasing peck on the lips. When your eyes slide down his chest, you see that his bulge has gotten even bigger. God, you want it inside!

You grab the hem of your tee and take it off, freeing your naked breasts, your nipples diamond-hard.

“Oh yeah, baby,” Clint groans and bucks his hips up at the sight.

Your dance continues as you’re moving back and forth on his lap, bringing your tits closer to his face and then pulling away. Your clothed pussy grazes his bulge, whimpers fall from your mouth at the sensation of the rough material against your heat.

Clint’s eyes are dark as he’s watching you, they trail over your naked breasts, your heaving belly, a small triangle of your thong, stuck to your wet folds. You tease yourself with your fingers and press your lips to his thick neck. Your tongue darts out, his skin salty and hot. Suddenly Clint growls and pushes you to sit up.

“What?” you whine, already missing the feel and the taste of him on your tongue.

He is rubbing your arms up and down and says,

“Lemme look at you first.”

“Perv.” You roll your eyes, and Clint huffs a laugh but his gaze is full of longing, his hot palms trail over your skin with a softness only he gives you.

“Don’t look at me like this,” you whisper, feeling a lump in your throat.

“Like what?”

You leave his question hanging in the air, too hard to answer, to say the words out loud.

A corner of Clint’s mouth rises up but his eyes lack humour. His hand slides from your hip to your back and he pulls you closer. He presses an open mouth kiss to your collarbone, making your heart beat so hard and fast, he surely can feel it on his lips, as they trail down to your naked breasts. He kisses a spot just above your nipple and your eyes flutter shut, your body lighting up at the feeling of his soft touch and scruffy facial hair, his big hand keeping you in place.

Clint tilts his head up, his eyes are dark with lust, but there’s something else there, something warm and real. You push him back slightly, clinging to your power, refusing to accept his vulnerability, but your walls crumble when he murmurs three simple words,

“You’re beautiful.” All of a sudden, you stop breathing as he continues, “Do they tell you that?”

“Who?” You croak and clear your throat.

“Assholes you dance for.”

He leans back against the couch while his eyes are staring into your soul.

“Sometimes.” You’re not lying. Some men shower you with praise when you dance, but their words are tasteless, only Clint’s compliments make your heart flutter.

He hums, narrowing his eyes at you.

Your voice is shaky when you tell him, “I’d love to give you a dance at the club. Wanna show you what I can do.”

“You’re showing it now, baby. Doing a damn good job,” Clint smirks, watching you straddle him. He brings his hands to your tits to cup them and grazes your perked up nipples with his thumbs.

“Could I touch you like this in the club?” he asks, his eyes glinting with mischief.

“No, I’d ask you to sit on your hands, bad boy.” You give him a smile but you don’t feel like laughing - the lust sends hot flashes through your core again and again, your pussy aches to be filled.

“Do you want me to sit on my hands?” Clint’s husky voice makes you shudder and goosebumps cover your skin as you shake your head.

Clint hums in approval, his hands now grabbing two handfuls of your ass and squeezing them. A sudden slap follows right away, not hard but strong enough for your asscheek to jiggle.

“Could I do this?”

He’s challenging you, waiting for you to beg him to fuck you.

“No,” you reply, your voice small, barely audible through the music.

He tuts as his hand snakes to your mound and he cups your heat over your panties.

“What about her? Could I touch this little pussy? So wet,” he adds, massaging it with his paw.

The reply gets stuck in your throat, you’re drunk on him, with the way he’s masterfully playing with your body, with his scent enveloping you, his obsidian eyes focused on you. Clint lightly slaps your mound to get your answer.

“Could I?”

“No,” you mumble, “you’d be asked off the premises immediately.”

He smirks, his thumb slides under your thong, and when he swirls your clit, your needy moan rings loudly in the room.

“Why the hell would I go to the club, then? If I couldn’t make my girl happy.”

“I’m not your girl.” Your whimper has just a trace of defiance.

“Keep telling yourself this,” Clint gruffs, taking in every sign of your pleasure. His thumb begins rubbing your puffy clit under your panties, but his touch is feather-light, torturous, up and down, up and down. “Lie all you want but she can’t. Always wet and warm for me, always ready to take me.”

“Huh, bet you want it to be just you and her right now.“

It’s difficult to tease him when he’s working your pussy like this but you can’t help yourself. Clint’s eyes are set on your cunt as he smirks,

“No, I like you.“

“Oh. Only like me?”

“Not only. But…” His hand leaves your heat and he brings it up to glide his thumb over your lower lip. “Sometimes you make me wanna shove something big in this pretty mouth of yours, just to shut you up.”

Clint’s words set your core on fire, the ache getting unbearable. You dart your tongue out and lick the pad of his finger, tasting your own juices on it.

“What’s stopping you, Cowboy?”

“I guess I’m a gentleman, baby.”

“Huh. So that’s why I’ve been grinding against you forever and you still haven’t fucked me? Cos you’re a gentleman?”

A thunder rumbles in Clint’s chest and he tilts his hips up, his bulge poking your centre.

“No, it's just— you always leave as soon as we’re done and…“

“And you wanna keep enjoying my amazing company?“ You finish his sentence with a giggle but he’s not laughing. It seems that you’ve hit the bullseye and the realization makes you melt.

Who has ever wanted you like that? Fully, unconditionally, sincerely?

You feel tears well up in your eyes and, hiding them, quickly push your face into the crease of his neck.

“Fuck me, Clint, please, just… just fuck me.”

Your hips start to grind against his cock bulge, your pride be damned, you need him with every cell of your body.

A fresh surge of wetness floods your core when you hear his belt buckle clank. You lift your hips so Clint could unzip his jeans, tug them down together with his boxers and pull his cock out.

You’d never tell him but he’s got the most beautiful dick you’ve ever had or seen. Long and thick, two veins bulging on the sides, a wet red tip curved upwards for your pleasure - it looks like it was made for you.

You hover over his length, your hands planted on his broad shoulders, and he pulls your panties to the side, exposing your needy pussy.

“Fuck, these are soaked. She’s less stubborn than you, beautiful. Needs me bad,” Clint smirks, brushing your dripping folds with his bruised knuckles. It’s impossible to deny that you are desperate for him, you both see it.

“Yeah, she wants it real bad, Cowboy.”

“She’s gonna get it, beautiful. I’ll give it to you both nice and hard.”

His big hand darts to grab your waist and he pulls you down. When his hot tip notches your tight hole, you brace yourself- taking him is always a challenge. You begin slowly sinking on his length and Clint grunts through his teeth when your pussy starts swallowing his cock inch by inch. When you take all of him, your ass flush with his heavy balls, a moan falls from his parted lips.

“Fuck, I’m so full,” you mewl, sitting pretty on his cock. Clint leans against the couch and thrusts his hips up, making his dick plunge even deeper into you. You cry out, the dull ache making the pleasure extra delicious. Clint’s hot wet breath fans your tits as he shudders and twitches inside you, his thick fingers digging into your soft hips.

“Haven't had any since our last date, Cowboy?” you gloat, giddy with the idea that you’re the only girl he’s fucking.

Clint retorts through heavy breaths,

“You sucked my dick at the backseat, baby. You calling it a date?”

“Fuck you,” you bite back and, feeling spiteful, rock your hips, massaging his cock with your walls, making him lose his mind.

“Easy, tiger,” he growls but how can you stop now? “Little minx…” Clint gruffs, when you start enthusiastically riding him. He pulls you flush against his chest, wraps his huge arms around your torso, rendering you completely helpless, and keeps you still.

“Ya heard me? I’ve had a hard day. Let me get used to her first.”

“Or what? You gonna bust too soon? Guess it’s normal at your age, Cowboy.”

You playfully kiss his neck but your teasing finally pushes the man to the limit. Clint plants his feet wider on the floor, the grip around your torso tightens, and he starts thrusting his cock up into your cunt with fast and rough strokes. His breathing is hot and shaky against your temple, you’re moaning and whimpering while your pussy is being ruined. You feel the stretch like never before, his thickness splitting you in two, and your eyes roll back into your head, thanks to the divine angle of his pounding. His stiff cock is rubbing the pleasure button inside your wet heat, and you rise so high and so fast, that your head starts spinning.

“Take it—take it—take it,” Clint grunts, his voice husky and strained. “ ‘s all you want, uh?— to be fucked hard?—like I don’t give a shit about you— like I don’t love you…”

You freeze in his arms, his hips still moving, his cock still jackhammering your pussy. For a few moments he keeps fucking you until you wiggle out of his iron embrace and sit up.

You’re both panting, blown out eyes locked, and you lean in and kiss him, his scruffy cheeks in your hands, your mouths desperately swallowing each other’s air. Always knowing what you need before you do, Clint begins caressing your body, his fingers writing confessions all over your skin, your tongues licking into each other’s mouths. His lips leave yours for a moment so he could say,

“Ride me, baby. Take what you need, I got you.”

You know he does. He always does. But you need to feel all of him now. So you push the flannel off his shoulders and Clint hastily takes his Hanley off.

You hungrily take his naked torso in and start dancing on his cock, slowly, sensually, gliding your palms over his broad chest, muscular arms, ruffling up his pushed back curls.

Clint’s hands don’t rest either - they start kneading your breasts, palming your hardened nipples, twitching and pulling them. You drop your head and see how perfectly your pussy is stretched by Clint’s thickness. The sight mesmerizes you, your lips part and you moan watching her swallow Clint’s glistening shaft again and again, your pearly cream sits like a ring around his base.

“Hey, keep your pretty eyes on me.“

Clint pinches your chin and tilts your head up to face him. Here it is again. That look of his that tells you volumes without words, that terrifies you, excites you, makes your heart flutter.

You don’t fight it this time. Don’t tease him, don’t throw a joke to dilute the feeling, don’t shut his wordless confession up. You let his gaze take you to your peak, make your thighs shake and pussy quiver.

You come with his name on your lips, not ‘Cowboy’, not a cold ‘handsome’.

“Yes, baby, like that, doing good for me,” Clint encourages you and bounces you on his cock, prolonging your shuddering orgasm. Then he freezes with a moan and begins exploding inside you, painting your walls with his warm load. You cling to his chest and his arms envelop you again but he’s not restraining you now, he’s holding you close, while ecstasy is rippling through your bodies. Your lips meet and you’re making out lazily, getting down from your highs.

Feeling exhausted, still spasming on his cock from time to time, you put your head on his shoulder and close your eyes with a satisfied sigh. Clint’s gentle hands glide over your tingling skin and soon they put you to sleep.

You wake up when the morning sun is peeking through the drapes in his bedroom. Clint’s on his back next to you, his breathing deep and slow. For a few seconds you’re watching him, his dark lashes fluttering, his chest rising and falling. You take a deep breath, overwhelmed by the desire to kiss him, trace his scar with your lips, run your hands over the vast expanse of his body. You want it so much your chest hurts, but you fight it and get up. Not seeing your clothes, you grab Clint’s flannel off the chair and put it on.

“Hittin’ and quittin’ and stealing my favorite shirt,” Clint croaks behind you and you turn around with a smile. “Bad girl.” His lips are slightly curved too, sleepy eyes sliding up and down your half naked body.

“I need to go. I’ll give it back to you, don’t worry.”

Clint hums and then stretches. He spreads his big arms, huge muscles bulging, and a sheet slides off his leg, exposing his thick hairy thigh. A pronounced shape between his legs makes you salivate and you bite your lip.

“Stay,” Clint says softly. “We can go again.. Or just cuddle.“

Your eyebrows shoot up as you giggle,

“You wanna cuddle?”

“I wanna cuddle the shit out of you, baby.”

Your laugh rings loudly in the bedroom, but you’re hesitant. You’ve never stayed till the morning, never made breakfast for you two, never let him pull you too close. Yet something in you has changed tonight, the strong feeling sits warm and heavy in your belly. You crave all of that now.

The flannel shirt falls on the floor and you jump into the bed. Clint wraps you in his arms with the biggest grin you’ve ever seen on him and holds you close. And you let him.

Thank you for reading! Please comment and reblog if you enjoyed the fic! Your feedback means the world💜

MASTERLIST || more Clint

Tag list: @milla-frenchy @harriedandharassed @iamasaddie @nervousmumbling @bbyanarchist @stevie75 @puduvallee @auteurdelabre @mountainsandmayhem @senoratess @flamingochick55 @theoraekenslover @schnarfer @mermaidgirl30 @staywildflowahchild @yesjazzywazzylove-blog @evolnoomym @keylimebeag @joelmillerisapunk @pascaltesaye @fruityreads @itwasntimethatdidit40 @meetmeatyourworst @callmebyyournick-name

People who were interested in the wip posts (no pressure to read, bbs) @604to647 @toxicanonymity @sawymredfox @yxtkiwiyxt @baronessvonglitter @tateypots

[seung-mong]

☆han - super graphic ultra modern girl!☆

the first installment in seung-mong's kinktober 2024!

synopsis: han thinks hes seeing things. he usually enjoys camping by himself, but when a bright light and a high pitched noise makes his head throb and his nose bleed, he genuinely thinks he could die. now he REALLY thinks hes seeing things because.. is that someone falling from the sky? after deciding to sleep on it (passing out), he meets you. and uh, oh yea. he's definitely seeing things! "it doesnt matter tho, he'll never have what it takes to be with a girl like me!"

includes: loser nerd PERV!han x alien fem!reader, subby hanji, han jisung is a SIMP LOSER he is so desperate its silly, mention of bondage, use of some kind of aphrodisiac, its really nasty and sloppy bc han jisung has a spit kink i didnt say it i mean i did but i uhm anyway

wc: 10 k WOAH

a/n: wanna know what this super hot alien baddie is saying? use this! thanks for being so patient. i love u

han jisung sweeps back the stray strands of hair that have fallen across his forehead, the thin layer of sweat making it stick uncomfortably against his skin. his brows are furrowed, eyes squinted against the harsh rays of the sun.

he could have picked a better spot to set up camp, but he's far too lazy to pack everything up and find another place. besides, he risks losing this perfectly fine clearing in between the thick of the trees. he supposes its decent enough, close enough to the stream so he could make several trips back and forth to refill his canteen.

he wishes minho was with him, though. he's not really that used to camping alone. by now, minho and him would be fishing for dinner. instead, han decided to pack as many canned foods and prepped sandwiches he could to last him the next couple of days. he never had much luck with fishing anyway.

honestly, you would have thought he was being forced to do this all alone! he shakes off the thought, promising himself that he was completely fine with the fact. he digs for his fishing hat in the duffel bag he proceeds to unceremoniously toss into his tent.

"first order of business, build a fire." he speaks out loud to himself. he jolts back as if surprised by the own sound of his voice, then chuckles to himself.

"okay this is a little weeeeeird," he shakes his head, eyes trained on the ground for any promising branches he could use for his supply.

"hm, not that weird? people talk to themselves all the time." he shrugs, bending down with a squeak as he grabs a couple of logs, then tucks them under his arm.

"nah, its weeeeeird. you're here all alone in the middle of the woods and talking to yourself. OUT LOUD. like a full on conversation. as if there are two parties exchanging information. YOU'RE ALL ALONE. and you're still talking out loud...." he continues to yap to himself, the only other sound besides his voice is the satisfying crunch of the leaves under his boots. he decides that bones crushing would sound similar.

"okay, that was a weird thought. do you need help? hahaha"

he cringes when his voice echoes.

he takes a deep breath and holds it, letting it out only when he feels the familiar burn in his chest. he shakes his head, chuckling at himself.

he wonders how long it will take for him to break.

by his eighth hour alone, han jisung feels like he's going just a little crazy. at first, he thought he was hearing voices. it turned out to be his own. talking. out loud. into the darkness of his tent.

he sits against the pole supporting his tent in the middle, knees to his chest and his arms wrapped around his legs. he finally got to reading the beaten up copy of pride and prejudice that hyunjin lent him, but after reading the same sentence eight times over and over again, he yelled out loud, scaring himself in the process, and chucked the book to the other end of his sleeping bag.

"i should sleep," he groans, looking out into the dark of the forest.

"but its at such an awkward time!" he whines, rubbing his face in frustration. "if i sleep now i'll wake up soooo earlyyyy."

"but im so bored!"

han groans, turning around to lean his head against the wooden pole. he stays like that for a while, chewing on his bottom lip. he's been silent for too long, the ringing in his ears is getting louder and louder.

"fine! i'll go for a walk!" he clasps his hands together before pushing himself off the ground, grumbling to himself as he pulls on his padded jacket and slips into his thick boots. he double checks the burner he used to heat up his dinner is off, and zips up his tent.

it's way too cold for him to be out here right now. han immediately realizes his mistake a good mile away from his camp when a shiver runs down his spine the third time in a row within a five minute interval. the hand holding his flashlight is shaking violently, the other hand tucked tightly in the pocket of his padded jacket.

he's starting to overthink, the eerie silence and his wild imagination running in the dark as he ignores the weight that's started to settle in his chest. he feels as if someone's watching him, the hairs on the back of his neck standing at attention. he shakes his head.

for the most part, han loves being alone. he always more of an introvert, treasuring his alone time. he loves spending time by himself, getting to recharge and do things on his own without that icky feeling of being perceived by others.

he spends most of his hours alone.

he knows how it feels.

which is why he knows he's not alone right now.

in the dark of the woods where the trees are thicker, taller. he swallows the fear, chalking it up to his mind playing games on him. maybe there is such a thing as too much alone time.

"okay, i think thats enough for tonight." he announces into the darkness of the woods.

before he can turn around, a sharp ringing sound pierces his ears. its too loud, too high in pitch. han falls to his knees, flashlight falling onto the ground as his hands rush to cover the sides of his head, palms flat in an attempt to block out the high-pitched ringing.

he's never felt this sensation before, almost as if the soundwaves have entered his brain and proceed to jump all around. his head is pounding and he falls forward into the dirt, knees tucked into his chest in a fetal position.

he thinks hes going to die, truthfully. he faintly registers the fact that his hands have grown wet with what he can only assume is blood. its thick and warm and trickling in between the gaps of his fingers. he's beyond dizzy, eyes scrunching up in pain as he tries desperately to gather himself.

he has to get out of here.

there are tears coming out from his eyes at the pain, but through the thick blurry fog of his tears, he sees a beam of light coming down from the otherwise dark sky. the light blue light casts a shadow, the leaves of the trees dancing on the forest floor.

han thinks hes about to pass out. his skin is covered in goosebumps, and the sharp ringing in his ears have reduced to a dull hum. he blinks slowly, resting on his back as he accepts his fate.

he's dying and god is waiting to pick up his soul, casting a heavenly light down onto his poor, withered, totally dead body. he stares directly into the beam of light that hovers over him. a dark silhouette appears to come down to him, long flowing hair rustling in the wind, arms reaching out to him.

"are you... my guardian angel?" he chokes out once the shadow creeps closer, close enough for him to make out the features of the creature's face through half-lidded eyes.

"beautiful," he whispers, closing his eyes and awaiting the sweet kiss of death.

okay, maybe he was being a little dramatic.

he realizes this now when he jolts awake, leaves crunching under his body from the sudden movement. he's disoriented, rubbing away the sleep from his eyes as he takes in his surroundings.

he doesnt remember falling asleep in the middle of the woods. han's known for being able to fall asleep anywhere, but on the cold, hard, ground? out in the open? where animals could have feasted on him? thats just plain silly.

he sits up, and he's met with a sharp throbbing pain in his head. he lets out a grunt, eyes squeezed shut as he tries to collect himself. he looks around, his flashlight dead beside him. how the hell did he get out here?

he follows the trail back to his camp after walking down to the stream and splashing his face with the cold water, body aching and head still pounding. he considers wrapping this camping trip up and taking the rest of his leave from work in his cozy one bedroom apartment, safe from mosquitoes and ear-splitting ringing and lights from the heavens.

his tent looks normal enough once he finds the clearing, but the nearer he approaches, the more the hairs on his arms stand at attention. he's 100% sure he remembered to zip up the entrance to his tent. the entrance which is now wide open, the flap tucked neatly under a couple of stones.

he feels his heart drop to the pit of his stomach, throat closing up as the dread starts to settle deep in his chest. he swears he remembers locking up properly before going on a walk. he approaches his tent as quietly as he can, fingers clamped tight around the base of his flashlight, ready to swing it as hard as he can at whoever the hell has invaded his territory.

he peeks his head in, his mouth dropping at the sight.

it's the most beautiful thing he's ever seen.

suddenly, he recalls the events that happened right before he passed out. the loud ringing, the flash of light, his guardian angel.

who's standing inside of his tent. completely naked.

ohmygod, he did die. he's in heaven right now.

he drops his flashlight, mouth opening before he can rationally make a decision.

"hey! you'r-" he's cut off by the zap of electricity that comes once you lock eyes with him, a heat that spreads throughout his whole body and renders him speechless. and for the second time within twelve hours han jisung feels himself collapse on the ground before darkness takes over his vision.

the first thing he feels is the cold. and then the sharp stinging in his cheek. his eyes fly open, and he immediately feels the pain all over his body.

he has never felt this beaten up before.

and then he feels the sharpness on his wrists. he attempts to move one, before he realizes he's tied up. he sits up straighter now, pulling at the rope thats tied tightly against his wrists, binding him to the pole in the middle of his tent.

if he's in heaven, why the fuck does it hurt so much?

"⍙⊑⍜ ⏃⍀⟒ ⊬⍜⎍ ⏃⋏⎅ ⍙⊑⍜ ⎅⍜ ⊬⍜⎍ ⍙⍜⍀☍ ⎎⍜⍀?"

jisung turns towards the source of the weird gibberish to find you sitting calmly on the edge of his bed.

he should be scared. but you're far too beautiful for him to register any actual threat.

you look human enough, your skin could pass as one, no ridges or bumps or patterns or scales to suggest otherwise. but there's something off-putting about your face. your features are too symmetrical, bug-like eyes narrowed and sitting too close to one another. your ears are way too small, especially now as your hair steers clear from your face. its subtle, the way a person could glance at you and not be suspicious. but the longer jisung stares at you, the more his fears are confirmed.

you're not from around here.

"w-what?" jisung whimpers, as if you would be able to understand him.

the look you give him sends a shiver down his spine.

you rise to your full height, top of your head bumping against the roof of his tent. you're definitely taller than him. then his eyes fall to the rest of your body, which, he might add, is completely bare. your skin is smooth all the way down to your pelvis, an even tone except for the area above your pelvis which turns a little darker.

he should be alarmed by the fact that your body is different from that of an average woman, noting in awe at the smooth plane of skin where your belly button should be.

but all he can think about is the fact that he's got a hot... being... standing in the middle of his room.

"eng,,,english?" your voice is small when you ask, as if you're unsure yourself.

han only nods.

you make a sound, and han can only assume you're cursing by the way your brows furrow and your eyes shut in frustration.

"english... not so good." you mumble, scanning the room for something.

"i'd say its pretty good." han squeaks.

you stare at him blankly. you walk around his tent, stepping over his legs and picking up everything you see. he watches you examine the pots he used to make his dinner before setting them gently on the ground.

he cant believe he's letting this happen to him. he watches in horror as you dig through his bag, taking out all the clothes he's brought on the trip. you're quite literally prodding around his personal belongings, and he's watching you, letting you, with a chub in his pants.

is he sick?

in his defense, you're completely naked in front of him, bending over and exposing yourself to him. han's always been known to have... different sexual preferences. admittedly, hes a little bit of a freak. to put it quite bluntly, he's into that supernatural shit. he's not afraid to say it! he digs that tentacle shit. he briefly wonders whether or not you possess some kind of supernatural abilities. he's read all about them. aphrodisiac slick? tentacle's hidden in between your legs? oooo does your tongue-

you make a sound of surprise before picking up the book he'd abandoned last night, excitedly turning to him.

"⟟⌇ ⏁⊑⟟⌇ ⌇⍜⋔⟒ ☍⟟⋏⎅ ⍜⎎ ⌇⏃☊⍀⟒⎅ ⏁⟒⌖⏁?" you hold the book in your hand as you sink to your knees beside him.

"i-m sorry i dont understand," jisung whispers.

you huff in frustration. "what... you do... this?"

jisung tries to understand your broken english. "oh! you uhm.. you read?" he nods towards the book in your hands, moving his head back and forth to show you that you have to open the flap, turn to the next page.

you tilt your head in confusion. you start to mimic his movements, moving your head back and forth in the same motion. jisung has to bite his lip from laughing.

"look, i could help you but you tied me up, so..." jisung nods towards his restraints.

you study his face for a long moment. "you.... harm?"

jisung shakes his head so violently he can feel his brain moving. "no. no harm. promise."

you give him one last look from head to toe before slowly nodding. you inch closer to his chest, arms wrapping around him to reach for the painful knot that keeps him hostage. han lets out a sigh of relief once the tie loosens, shaking the ache away from his hands.

you continue to stare at him, slightly backing away as he reaches for the book on the ground.

"you read it. like this, see?" han opens up the book on the page he had dog-eared last night, gliding his finger across the page to highlight the words.

you make a weird rumble sound from deep in your chest, eagerly snatching the book away from him. your brows furrow as you attempt to read, slowly sounding out the letters under your breath. han watches you, eyes trailing from your wide eyes to the purse of your lips as you read. they fall to even more dangerous territory down to your chest, and the smooth skin of your stomach, to the space between your thighs.

"oh!" he squeaks, awkwardly clearing his throat after catching your attention. "you should put on some clothes. you can borrow some of mine, no titty- i erm, mean no biggy!" he stands then, walking over to the mess that is his duffel bag. he pulls out his worn out alien shirt (very fitting, he thinks) and a pair of sweatpants. you'll just have to do with no underwear for now. he takes his time in refolding all his clothes before dumping them in a wrinkled pile at the bottom of his bag.

"here, put these on." he offers you his clothes from where you sit cross-legged on the floor of his tent. you finally pull away from the book, and stare blankly from the fabric in his hands to his face.

a beat passes before han finally clears his throat. "you uh... put them on. like mine, see?" he gestures towards his shorts.

"why?" you ask.

oh dear.

"oh, well. people dont... respond well to seeing other people, or well in your case- a being's naked body." he explains, crouching down beside you.

you dog ear the page just like he did before closing it and setting it down on the floor.

"you.. you dont respond well?"

han swallows. "oh, well i mean, more of like the general public."

"so you... okay with me, naked body?"

his cheeks warm. "i mean, its not exactly a problem. you're pretty and interesting to look at with all due respect, but like- i dunno you might be a little... cold?"

you shake your head before placing your hand on his cheek. he jolts at the contact of your warm palm on his skin.

"oh. you run hot." he squeaks.

you nod.

how in the hell can he persuade you to just put on the damn clothes? not to be a perv or anything but he feels so icky shamelessly staring at your body, and you're none the wiser. he can feel himself half-hard, (a totally valid response, he would argue) but the guilt is eating at him. he doesnt want to take advantage of your naivety.

"but the clothes... they provide an.. extra layer of protection, you know" he winces at his lame response.

your eyes widen, reaching for the clothes in earnest. "armor?"

han bites his bottom lip and nods.

you look down at the fabric in your hands with awe before you stand up. you look down from the clothes back to han.

han mentally slaps himself. "oh, right. er- lemme help you."

han crouches down, holding the sweatpants out for you. he gently guides your legs to where they need to go, slipping the pants up your thighs and settling them on your waist. his fingers brush against where your belly button should be as he ties the strands tighter, to ensure the fabric wouldnt fall down.

"there yo-" to say han was blindsided by the heavy hand that smacks across the side of his face is an understatement. your whole palm lands against his cheek. his jaw drops in shock as he looks up at you.

"⍙⊑⏃⏁ ⏁⊑⟒ ⎎⎍☊☍? ⊑⍜⍙ ⎅⏃⍀⟒ ⊬⍜⎍ ⏁⍜⎍☊⊑ ⋔⟒ ⏁⊑⟒⍀⟒!" you yell, clutching at the hem of his sweatpants and taking a step away from him, as if wounded.

"i- what?? what happened i-"

"⎅⍜⋏⏁ ⏁⍀⊬ ⏁⍜ ⎅⟒⋏⊬ ⟟⏁! ⊬⍜⎍ ⏁⍜⎍☊⊑⟒⎅ ⋔⟒ ⏁⊑⟒⍀⟒, ⊬⍜⎍ ⌿⟒⍀⎐⟒⍀⏁!" you continue to rant, pointing a finger at him accusingly.

"okay, okay... lets calm down- just- tell me what i did? what happened? did i hurt you?" han holds his hands up in surrender as he slowly approaches you.

you take a deep breath and stare him down. "dont.. no touch." your voice is hard.

"okay, okay. im sorry." jisung coos.

"that... p-part! no." your voice wavers slightly.

"i hear you. i understand. im sorry, okay?" his voice is gentle as he takes another cautious step towards you.

you let out a deep sigh and nod. "i- i sorry too. i hurt you."

"oh, no its fine." han bites his tongue in an attempt to hold back the tears in his eyes.

he approaches you once more, this time with the shirt bunched up to place it on your head easier. you gasp at the sensation and han chuckles.

he wonders how he would react if he were in your shoes, in an unfamiliar planet with a man you can hardly understand, as he pokes and prods at you.

how did you even get here in the first place? he decides he'll save his questions for when you're a little more comfortable with him.

he gently wraps his hand around your wrists and guides them into the shirt before he reaches around to untuck your hair from the fabric, letting it sweep down your back.

"there! now you.. kinda look like me." he laughs.

you stare at him. "ha. ha. ha. what that mean?" you ask.

"oh, when something is like.. funny? if you like something you kinda.. laugh." he struggles to explain.

"oh. ha. ha. ha."

han cant help the giggle that escapes him. "oh by the way. whats your name?"

"name?"

"well i mean... me, han jisung." he points towards himself, poking his chest for emphasis. he turns his pointer fingers towards you before gently poking your chest.

you make a sound of understanding before you tell him yours.

"oh. y/n. thats pretty," he compliments.

you make a sound akin to a purr, rumbling deep in your chest. "i- i read. you book. okay?" you point.

"oh, alright!" han bends down to pick it up before he hands it to you. "its starting to get dark. i'm gonna start a fire okay? i erm- i leave for a bit. you stay."

you only nod before sinking to the ground, folding your legs under you as you lean against the supporting pole of the tent. "i stay." you reassure him. its not like you could go anywhere else anyway.

you watch as han gives you one last smile before he steps out into the dusk, zipping up his tent behind him.

you like han, you decide. you were exiled onto this planet for.. a crime you had no choice but to commit. you understand the gravity of the Supremes' punishment now, throwing you down into a disgusting, vile planet such as Earth.

why couldnt they have dropped you off at Sebion? at least you'd be the most intelligent sentient being. sure, the siens were a little annoying, constantly screeching at the mark of every hour. but that, you could live with. humans? a totally different story.

you remember the lessons they taught about humans, the most selfish, vile creature to exist in the universe. they look a little different from what you've been taught, though. they're supposed to have sharp teeth and long nails. the scariest part about them? they lie. imagine that! the thought sends a shudder down your spine. you know all about the evil that is the human race. possessed by horrors like greed, selfishness, and hatred.

they're the creatures that scared you the most. you could deal with the merqrai on vikunus. they had a weakness, a soft spot on the top of their head you could whack and render them unconscious. but humans? just about the only sentient being in the entire universe capable of betrayal. they are inherently evil, your tutors said.

you think back to how you had zapped han jisung, how his body folded like cloth into a heap on the floor. was electricity their weakness? something about han jisung makes you believe he's different, though. he's certainly not as ugly as the humans they showed you in class. he's almost a little pretty, with round eyes and chubby cheeks.

you'd like to think he wouldn't lie like the other humans, too.

by the time han jisung returns to his tent, you've finished reading the interesting novel cover to cover. admittedly, you skipped all the boring parts and instead focused on the dialogue. you wanted to impress han with your new english.

"hello." you chirp cheerily as soon as han jisung enters, removing his gloves and settling closer to the radiator in the middle of the space.

"oh! hi." jisung blushes, reaching his hands out to the heat.

"you are cold?" you coo, moving a little closer to sit beside him.

han just giggles. "yea, a little. it's around winter now so its getting chilly. i think its gonna snow tomorrow."

"winter? the cold time?" you vaguely remember your tutor telling you all about the seasons on Earth.

thank god you picked up those extra lessons on Earth.

"yea! does it snow where you're from? han is seated more comfortably now, legs stretched in front of him.

"snow? the... uh... from the sky? falling, yes?"

"yea! the little white things that fall from the sky."

"oh... no snow at home. just uhm what you call it... rain?"

han beams at you. "you said your english was bad, but i think you're doing perfectly fine. pretty good for someone not around here, actually."

you cant help the smile that creeps on your face. a silence falls over the both of you after, with han staring deeply into the emptiness of his tent. you look at him now, really look at him while he's distracted.

his eyes really are pretty, glowing here in the dark and shining a little thanks to the reflection of the fire lit in his tiny lamp. you inch a little closer to him now, slowly just until your thighs press against the side of his.

"erm- what are you doing?" han instantly pulls away.

"cold? i warm you." you offer, bringing your knees to your chest in an attempt to make yourself small. you figure maybe he's a little apprehensive to be too close to you. you did happen to zap him earlier.

han lets out a sigh and crawls back to his seat next to you, the side of his body pressed firmly against yours.

"damn, you're really hot." he chuckles before inhaling sharply at the double meaning. he doubts you'd understand.

"i know. you shake." you coo, draping one arm over his shoulders and pulling him to you a little more firmly.

han stiffens at your side, head awkwardly pressed against the side of your chest. he can faintly hear the rhythm of your heartbeat and his eyes widen.

"whoa, thats so cool!" han exclaims, pulling away from you.

you tilt your head in confusion as han gently cups the back of your neck to pull your ear against his own chest. you gasp at the sound.

"so slow!" you yell, looking up at him in awe.

"and yours is so fast." han chuckles, resting his head against your chest once more.

you let him wrap himself around you, the weight of today falling on han's shoulders as he subconsciously slips into a state of sleep. you watch as his blinking slows, until his lids flutter into a final close. his breathing evens then, warm air tickling the side of your chest with his every exhale. a deep rumble starts within your chest, a vibration that spreads throughout your whole body until the tips of your fingers. you reach up to delicately stroke his hair away from his face, his smooth skin and sharp nose drawing your attention.

"so pretty," you mumble, your own eyes fluttering shut to the sound of han's heavy breathing.

when jisung wakes, he's cold and shirtless. he sits up abruptly, throwing the weighted blanket off his upper body and scrambling for his slides. its far too early for his heart to be beating this fast, but panic settles in his chest when he registered your absence.

"y/n?" he croaks, hastily unzipping the flap to his tent and all but throwing himself outside.

"morning!" you cheer, hair wet and dripping onto what was han's shirt from yesterday, now damp and hanging awkwardly on your frame, as you'd shoved an arm and your head into one hole, stretching the fabric around you. in one hand, you hold a sharp, pointed stick. impaled on it are several colorful fish, flopping in an attempt to escape their inevitable death.

on the other hand, your clothes from last night.

"oh." jisung exhales, hands coming up to clutch at his chest.

"i.. i catch these!" you beam, extending the stick to him.

jisung can't help but giggle a little. "yes. i see that. thank you. my errr- my shirt?"

you look down as if just remembering that you'd stolen his shirt from him in his sleep.

"oh! i... i walk to the water to clean me, i see in the water this," you shrug to the fish, "but then i cant reach! so i go in and catch them. but i get wet. so i take off. but then i see people and i remember what u say to me. 'general public dont want naked body.'" you finish seriously, voice lowered in an attempt to mimick han's.

han's heart drops at the mention of other people.

"you.. you saw someone? where?"

you turn and point to a clearing not far from the other edge of the river.

"a man. like you!" you cry excitedly. "can we meet?"

"no." han's voice is firm as he wraps his hand around your arm, pulling you to the tent. "lets cook that fish for lunch. maybe we should go back to the city." he thinks aloud to himself. not a lot of people know about this campsite, somewhat of a private haven shared between his friends. minho's father used to take them camping here, and the only other people who know of this site are minho's close friends. he's a little worried to run into someone he knows right now with you here with him. not that he wants to hide you or anything...

"the city!" you screech, plopping yourself down on the floor. "i want to see! i hear about the... the things you move in? the big.." you proceed to gesture wildly, hands reaching out to grip onto something and steering left and right.

"yes, a car?" han offers, turning the burner on as he watches you with fondness.

"ohhh yes! i want car." you sigh dreamily.

han approaches you as he lets the food cook, snorting to himself as he reaches out to fix your shirt. gently, he raises the collar and removes your arm, shooting it in the right hole.

"there. you're like a big baby."

"your baby! ha ha ha ha." you joke, looking to han for validation.

instead, his cheeks redden and he shrugs. "i guess, yea?" he turns away from you as he reaches into his duffel for a shirt of his own.

a couple of beats of silence pass before you turn to han. "do you have mate?"

han chokes on his own saliva, doubling over in pain as he slaps his own chest.

"i- what?"

honestly, you have no idea what possessed you to ask that question. you suppose its the curiosity in you. but another part of you is less naive. you know whats happening with han. after last night, the way you fell asleep in his arms with his heartbeat in your ear. he's sweet to you, kind and patient. you wonder if humans do these things to each other regularly, or if, like your kind, such special moments are reserved for special people. you sincerely hope its the latter.

"i just... wonder. like elizabeth and mister darcy." you mumble.

han chuckles at that. "oh. right, then. no. i dont have a mate. do you?"

you blush. you didnt expect him to ask you the same question. you firgure you're fine with opening up to han.

"i did."

han's eyes widen as his whole body turns to you in bewilderment.

"what?" he squeaks.

you give him a small smile filled with nothing but sadness. "not now. i did have but now no." you clarify, shrugging.

"aren't mates for life or something? what do you mean you dont have one now?"

you stare at him blankly. han suddenly feels as if he's overstepped. "i'm sorry, i didnt mean to-"

"mate is a bad man." you sigh, gaze dropping to the floor.

han swallows, staying silent in fear that making a sound would somehow change your mind about sharing something so personal with him.

you stare at him thoughtfully for a minute before you continue. "he was forced mate. for me. i dont choose," you explain, brows furrowing. "he want me but i dont want him."

"why?" han cant stop himself from asking.

you make a face, and han laughs. "ugly?"

"very."

"so what happened?"

you shrug. "he try to mate me. i say no. he say yes! i hurt him. he send me down here."

"thats horrible." han shivers, pouting at you.

"yes. worst punishment. earth." you sigh, shaking your head.

"hey, its not that bad." han bumps you with his shoulder, trying desperately to lighten the somewhat heavy mood.

"yes. not bad." you say genuinely, holding his gaze.

han coughs awkwardly and smiles sheepishly at you before he stands abruptly. "you should come to the city with me. you can stay at my place for a while and get used to things and then maybe... i dunno. we'll see. how does that sound?"

you simply stare up at him with a blank expression on your face.

han swallows before starting once more, "we go to the city. my house. you stay and then.... you leave. when you want."

"oh yes!" you yell excitedly, "in the.. uhm car?" you're eager.

"yea... its kind of a long ride though, you'll probably grow bored."

han could not be more wrong. from helping him pack up his tent to bringing his stuff to his car, to squeezing everything into the backseat, to settling down in the passenger seat- you're absolutely buzzing. if you were locked in a room, han's sure you'd be bouncing off the walls.

"what is that?" you point out to the green fields just outside your window.

"thats a cow," han answers your umpteenth question of the day.

"and that?"

"another cow."

"that?"

"still a cow."

"and this?" you finally turn your attention to the things inside the car. your finger glides across the top of the stereo, fiddling with the buttons and twisting the knobs.

"thats the radio. it plays music, see?" han turns the radio on to a random station, a song he recognizes by gorillaz playing softly.

you stare in awe. "whats that language?"

"music," han hums along, turning the volume up.

"when you're close to me~ dun dun, dun dun dun dun dun, dun dun," han's thumbs drum along to the beat on his steering wheel.

"i like that. ha ha ha," you offer thoughtfully, trying (and failing) to match the way han bobs his head along to the music.

"yea? thats good. we have something in common."

by the time han pulls into the parking right under his unit, you've somewhat calmed down. admittedly, he swears he didnt mean to, but his mind wandered to the man you crossed paths with in the woods. what if he saw how... different you looked? he imagines you thrashing wildly in the river, catching fish with your bare hands. he worries his bottom lip until he can feel a little bit of blood. what if he told someone? what if someone comes to take you away from him?

not that han feels like he owns you in any way, but he cant explain the feeling of responsibility he has over you. he tries to tell himself its silly. you've known each other for 2 days! and yet when han watches you stare out the window in awe, he feels his heart beat erratically in his chest and his cock twitch in interest. do you even feel that way for him?

you on the other hand, are completely confused. han starts to get quieter and quieter the nearer you get to his home. you start to wonder if he's suddenly regretting bringing you here. he starts to zone out, completely ignoring your questions. you figure maybe he's grown tired of your yapping, constantly asking him questions. instead, you busy yourself with staring out the window.

honestly, you can find some similarities between his planet and yours. the tall buildings that seem to tower over everyone, the way people seem to walk with purpose, a destination in mind. there are many different creatures on this planet, some that walk on all fours and are significantly smaller than humans. han tells you they are called "animals" and that there are lots of different kinds. han tells you he has one in his apartment. a "dog" he calls bbama.

"just... stay right behind me, alright?" han says anxiously, keys tight in his hand.

you're starting to get a little nervous yourself. clutching tightly on to the straps of his bag.

han exhales as he pushes open his front door. "bbama baby? daddy's home!"

the little puppy bounds excitedly for the door, barking and yipping at his feet. han coos down at him, gently settling his bags down by the door and moving in to allow you some space to enter.

"we have a visitor, bbam! say hi." han scoops his little baby up to his chest and holds him out to smell you.

you stay frozen in fear, the furry creature sniffing at you wildly before his tongue darts out to lick at your hand.

"HE GOT ME. HE GOT ME." you start to sob, backing into the farthest corner and clutching at your hand as if in pain. bbama is taken aback by your loudness and starts barking, tail wagging as if to say he enjoys this game.

"its okay, its okay! he likes you!" han reassures you, biting down on his tongue to keep from laughing.

"he.. he attack me! with his mouth!" you accuse, waving your fingers in his face.

"noooo, he kissed you! its a way to show you like someone, see?" han lifts bbama up to his face, who immediately starts licking his cheek enthusiastically.

you watch, still a little apprehensive. you lower your hands, scooting a little closer to the furry ball in han's arms.

"he... he's so small." you note, tilting your head to scan bbama's whole figure.

"yea, hes just a baby. he's totally harmless." han coos, setting bbama down on the floor. the dog immediately runs to your legs, jumping up and down.

you only stare at him. "what is.... his purpose. like why?"

han is a little taken aback by your question. "for friendship?" he offers.

you seem satisfy with his answer, carefully stepping over the dog as it continues to nip at your pants, weaving in and out from between your legs as you walk around han's apartment. its nice and cozy, bright with lots of windows to let in light. his living room is cute, a long couch and a tv, a funky rug in the middle.

han watches you look around, rocking back and forth on his heels as he takes a deep breath. "uhm.. so this is where i live." he says weakly.

you nod. "its nice." you hum, running your fingers along the countertop in his kitchen. you continue to look around until your gaze lands on him, fixed on the way he seems to wait for your approval.

"okay. well, uhm. you can sleep in my room and ill take the couch."

you tilt your head. "why apart?"

han swallows. "well.. i mean- its just.. not right..." your heart sinks a little. not right?

"i want near you. like in your tent." you refer to the night han slept in your arms.

"no! that.. that cant happen again. you sleep in my room. i sleep here." han's voice is final. he cant allow himself near you, guilt suddenly eating at the way his body reacts to you. he knows he cant help but be attracted to you. its just the fact that you're so naive, so clueless to the way he yearns to touch you. he feels like a total perv.

your brows furrow in confusion. you thought maybe you were past this weird awkwardness with han. he seems to prove you wrong now, eyes darting nervously across the room and to the floor, as if mapping out a way for him to get out of this conversation.

"you dont want me?" you ask sternly.

"what? no! i dont-"

han is interrupted by the sound of keys jingling by his door. his heart drops when he remembers he's home two days early. he'd asked minho to house sit for him.

"oh. you're back?" minho opens the front door before han can successfully close the door stopper, making him look like a fool as he lunges awkwardly forward and quickly stopping himself.

"oh- yea i dont feel well." he forces out a weak cough.

"riiiiight. okay who's this?' minho nods to you, who appears from the kitchen at the sound of another voice.

you gasp. "another human!" you quickly approach the pair, ignoring han's quick head shakes of no.

"err.. yea?" minho raises an eyebrow before turning to his friend. "seriously who is this?"

"no one! just some random i said id give a ride home aha haha," han sweats.

no one? you are no one now? you give han a stern look before you lock eyes with the stranger.

"i am y/n."

"cool. i am minho. where you from?"

"im from zemenia!"

"oh... cool. exotic."

"thats enough getting to know each other! bye bye now." han quickly pushes minho forcefully by the chest, nudging him until his whole body is out in the hall.

"you still have to pay me for the 2 days, alright?" minho says.

"whatever, fuck off. bye!" han throws himself against the door dramatically, huffing and running a hand through his hair.

"that was close," he chuckles, turning to you.

your face does not match the wide smile he so proudly wears. your face is twisted in a scowl, arms crossed in front of you.

"what?" han squeaks.

"why? why do you hide me?" you storm away, plopping yourself on han's couch.

"what are you talking about?" han whines, chasing after you. "what if minho found out about where you're from? who you are? what you are?"

he spits the words out as if disgusted. could that be it? han is disgusted by who you are? what you are?

"ah, so you are ashamed." you're quick to argue.

han cant believe his ears. where is this coming from? he falls to his knees in front of you. "what? no! im not ashamed of you."

"then why do you hide me? you are so confusing. you hold me and say things to me and i like that feeling. but then you act weird. and say you dont want to stay near me. and you hide me from other humans! and then you almost kill me with your bbama!" you're throwing your hands in the air, clearly agitated.

han's frowning. he knows you must feel confused, overwhelmed. but he's also smiling at the back of his head. "y/n-"

"i... i dont know! these feelings. inside.. i dont- i dont feel these things at home. i- this is all so different! and you're confusing me." you groan, kicking your legs up to the couch and hugging them to your chest.

han sighs. "no.. you got it all wrong. let me explain, okay?"

"⏃⌇⌇⊑⍜⌰⟒" you bite back.

"hey. i dont like the sound of that." han whimpers.

you only roll your eyes.

han sits up with a sigh, crawling slowly next to you. he grabs you by the knees and forces you to turn your body towards him. his fingers rest there, gently caressing the skin there.

"look, i am not. ashamed of you. at all. i think you're the coolest thing to ever happen to me! which is why... im scared." han sighs.

you look up at him, fearful. "you scare of me?"

"no! i just- im scared that... someone's gonna take you away from me as fast as i got you, you know?"

you nod, timid.

"and im.. a little overwhelmed. that feeling you feel? with all the... feelings in you? and you're all confused, right? thats how i feel too! like... its kinda weird because we've known each other for such a short amount of time but.. i just feel... i feel something for you." han finishes off quietly, gaguing your reaction.

you only stare back.

okay, lets try again. "i.. im like mr darcy. and you're elizabeth. except i havent read the book so i dont know if they end up together... do they?"

"they are together."

"yea, so like.. i like you. but i feel bad."

"but why?" you whisper.

"because... i feel like im taking advantage of you... i feel like. you only know me. i feel like im trapping you. and i feel like its going too fast." han rushes everything out, like he's rapping.

you blink at him. "are humans... slow?"

han lets out a chuckle. "well, much slower than this." he gestures between the two of you.

"but. you like me. i like you. what is the problem?" you say, like its the easiest thing on earth.

han is caught off guard by how sincerely you look at him. maybe it could be the easiest thing on earth. maybe he's too in his head about everything.

you reach out to hold his hand, breaking him out of his trance. "no problem, yes?"

he huffs. "no problem."

han spends the rest of the afternoon making it up to you. he cooks you some food without setting his kitchen on fire, which, in his books, counts as a miracle. he watches as your eyes light up with every spoonful, the flavors exploding in your mouth. he holds your hand in understanding as he tells you how everything back at home tasted the same. he makes a promise to feed you everything ever.

he lets you watch everything your heart desires, heart hammering in his chest as you watch his favorites with the same enthusiasm as him. he answers all your questions with patience, never once making you feel like a burden. you appreciate that.

and later, after youve both showered (he insisted on doing this separately lest he get a heart attack), he dresses you up in his comfiest clothes and settles you on the bed next to him. you watch him in anticipation. he swallows, turning to shut the lights off.

"hannie," you coo, reaching for his hand.

"yes?" he tries to be nonchalant.

"you dont want to touch me?"

he fails.

"i- i dont know..."

"we do that at home too, you know?' you tease him.

his heart falls just a little. "oh. youve done it?"

you shake your head, no. "mate for life. remember?"

han swallows. "r-right."

"you shake. you scared?" you try your best to calm him down, sitting up beside him.

"well, i- just never done it, too." he mumbles.

"good. we learn together."

you're a fast learner, apparently. han showed you how to kiss, gentle and slow. yet you're here on top of him, arms wrapped around his neck as you kiss him incessantly. he can do nothing but take it, desperate hands clutching at your sides in an attempt to ground himself.

its so wet and sloppy, your saliva mixing with his and creating a puddle that leaks out the corner of his mouth in drool. it makes him dizzy, the way your tongue pushes against his.

"i- wait, lets slow down." he manages to squeak before you devour his mouth once more.

"you humans and your slow." you hum, pulling away just slightly to allow han some space to breathe.

he looks so pretty like this, eyes glazed over and cheeks rosy. his glasses are askew, lips shiny with spit. you lean over to lick at his cheek, the way he told you those who like each other do.

"there. you feel that i like you, right?"

han thinks its lethal, the way you do things that are just so dirty, and you're so unaware. he's never been this hard, and all you've done is just kiss him a little.

"y-yes. i like you too." han coos, hand resting at your nape and applying pressure to push your face closer to his, lips finding yours once more.

"i feel like i like you more." you pout at him.

han shakes his head. "no way," his voice is so much thicker, so much deeper as he leans forward to press his lips against yours.

you deny him a third time. "hannie, show me you like me." you whisper.

he blinks up at you stupidly. "h-how?"

you reach for his hands and drag them to the hem of your shirt. he understands, quickly undressing you and throwing the fabric to the opposite corner of his room.

"you're so beautiful." he gasps in awe, chin resting against your chest as he looks up at you.

"you can touch me. its okay." you reassure him, dragging his fingers along your bare torso. he relishes in the feeling of your warm skin against his, tips of his fingers gliding along inches upon inches of your skin, up and down your sides and across the front of your stomach. you hum, fingers tangling in his hair as you watch him explore you.

"want you to take off, too." you sigh, pulling at his shirt. he complies with no protest. hes back to kissing you the instant his shirt is off, hands coming up to cup your cheeks and pull you infinitely closer to him. he licks into your mouth eagerly, taking every drop of spit in your mouth as if its meant for him. you allow him to, letting out little sounds and squeaks.

"need you to ride me, please? will you ride me, baby?" han whimpers against your lips, hands groping at your chest.

"show me how," you're breathless when you pull away, leaving enough space for han to shimmy his pants off your hips. he groans at the sight of your thighs, plush and ready to be marked. you're eager for him, spreading your legs to show the slit in between your thighs.

he watches in awe as you dip two fingers into your hole, scissoring the digits until you feel you've loosened yourself up enough.

"you, please. off." you mumble.

han obeys instantly, rushing to push his jeans down his thighs, shaking the fabric off until it sits at his ankles. you blink once you take in the size of his cock, hard and aching for you.

han suddenly grows shy, hands cupping his cock as his ears grow red. "whats wrong? is it.. is it okay?"

"its... big. not as big at home." you exhale shakily.

his dick twitches. you think he's big?

"its okay, let me eat you out, itll feel better when its wet." he promises, pulling you to sit on his face.

you back away in panic. "you eat me?" you ask in shock.

han laughs, breathless. "no baby, not literally! just... let me show you, okay? trust me?" he hums, stroking your thighs gently.

"o-okay." you relax in his hold, allow him to maneuver you until your core sits right at his open mouth.

"relax, baby, i got you." han coos, before he lets his tongue out to scoop the liquid in between your thighs.

the taste immediately goes straight to his head, making him dizzy and hot. he lets out a low groan. now, han is a munch. he loves eating pussy. all kinds of pussy, truthfully! he's not one to discriminate. he thinks every pussy is unique and none of them should be compared to one another.

yours though? oh he means it deep in his balls when he says its the best. the taste is different, genuinely sweet like honey as it trickles down his throat. he swallows up everything you have to offer to him, growing deaf to the way you moan pitifully above him, ignoring the painful sting that your fingers bring when you pull at his hair.

"hannie! thats.. good! i- i ⍜⊑ ⋔⊬ ⎎⎍☊☍ ⏁⊑⏃⏁⌇ ⌇⍜ ☌⍜⍜⎅!" han chuckles against your mound, sticking his tongue as deep into you as he can. he thinks he's tripping now, lightheaded as his blood rushes south. suddenly everything's so sensitive, his senses heightened. every time your fingertips brush against his face he jolts a little, the sweat on his back suddenly too wet, too much for him to bare.

you fall apart on his tongue with a cry and han hums in triumph, swallowing the nectar you gift him. you shake on top of him and han drags you down to his lap, sitting up to wrap his arms around you.

"good?" he asks, cocky.

"yes," you sob, eager to kiss him as thanks. he accepts gratefully, tongue swirling with yours as he situates you on top of his aching cock.

"can i put it in, baby? please. please let me fuck you, y/n." he begs, pathetic.

you hum, your forehead resting against his. "you have to ask some more. thats how it is."

han whimpers. you're making him beg for it? how cruel. "please, baby. i'm literally so hard right now, it hurts so bad. never been this hard. need to put it in your pussy so bad,"

"hurts?" you coo condescendingly, wrapping your slender fingers around his cock.

han can only whimper as you tug on his dick. "please,"

you give in to him then, "put it in, then."

he scrambles to wrap his hand around his base, rubbing the tip along your slit to catch the wetness there before he presses in. you bite your bottom lip, the stretch getting to you.

"im sorry baby, does it hurt? i bet it hurts so bad." he hates that he's hurting you, but he cant deny the way he throbs harder at the face you make, eyes squeezed shut and mouth gaping open. he pulls you closer, shoving his tongue into your mouth in an attempt to distract you from the pain.

you sloppily kiss him as he sets you deeper onto his cock, your thighs shaking from the effort. you let out a gasp once you take him to the base, feeling so full.

"oh my holy fuck," han gasps, bringing his fist to his mouth and biting down on his knuckles in an attempt to holding off his orgasm.

he's just started, and he can already feeling it end.

what kind of alien pussy magic is this?

"oh!" you exhale, hands gripping tightly onto han's shoulders. "its.. a lot," you're speechless.

"it feels so good," han whines, arms wrapping tightly around your waist.

you start to move then, rocking your hips back and forth, driving han absolutely crazy.

"fuck, yes. take my cock baby. its yours now." he babbles.

"mine?" you coo, nuzzling into his cheek.

"you can have my whole house. take everything i own. just dont stop moving your hips like that, please." his mouth is filthy, and you only smile.

"like this?" han whines when you speed up, fingers scratching the skin on your back.

"im so sorry baby i think im gonna cum." han pouts as he looks up at you, looking genuinely sorry. "i cant hold it."

he's not usually this sensitive, but something in the way your pussy hugs him just right has him losing his goddamn mind.

"its okay, hannie. i like you so much." you coo, holding him close. he shoves his face in between your breasts as you ride him for everything he has, cumming wildly with a shout. he spills inside you, eyes squeezing shut as tears threaten to spill down his cheeks.

mygod. its good enough to make a man cry.

you hold him gently, soothing him with scratches down his back. its a long while before han pulls away from you, sweaty and red in the face.

"ill do better next time, promise." he pouts at you.

"ha ha ha. we have all the time. promise." you coo back, wiping away the strands that litter across his forehead.

"thats true. you're not going anywhere anymore." he pulls out of you and swiftly tackles you to the bed, a squeak slipping past your lips as han holds you down against the bed, his sweaty body pressing against yours. he brings his ear up to rest against your chest, the quick boom boom lulling him to sleep. you watch with fondness as han starts to snore, your fingers gently rubbing up and down his back.

how ironic for you to find home a million miles away from where it was once. he thinks its a little out of the ordinary, this love you two will share. who cares though, really?

han's got his fantasy alien baddie girlfriend.

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i hope u all got tagged omg thank u i love u all pls lmk if i missed ur tag!!

[ducksido]

HI HII!!! THIS IS MY FIRST TIME EVER REQUESTING, I REALLY LOVE YOUR WRITINGS<3

Anyways, could I request the overblot boys (or whoever you prefer) with a s/o who has the bones of an elderly person?/hj. Not actually but like for me it feels like I do, due to the fact I had intensive training and stretching back then for my sport. After stopping recently, my joints became so stiff that I have to crack them multiple times an hour. They hurt but it’s so worth it when feeling the relief from that uncomfortable tension (you get what I’m saying?) AND it’s really loud, anyone a few feet away can hear.

Enough of my yapping, you don’t have to do this:3 No pressure at all, it’s just something silly to humor my broken body. I just wanna see their reactions to hearing their s/o joints cracking from the simplest things, especially when the overblot boys/anyone are still not used to it. THANK YOU‼️❤️

Riddle Rosehearts

“DID—Did something break!?”

Nearly jumps out of his skin the first time he hears your joints crack like a glowstick.

The sound of your back cracking when you stretch nearly sends him into cardiac arrest.

“That sounded like your spine split in half,” he says, eyes wide in horror.

Eventually starts anticipating it like a jumpscare. “Wait—you’re going to stretch again, aren’t you? Let me mentally prepare.”

Still offers to make you tea with chamomile or mint “for your bones.”

“…Wait, can you even drink this with a dust skeleton?”

Leona Kingscholar

“Damn, herbivore. That your back or a whole-ass tree branch?”

Surprisingly unfazed at first. Uncle instincts probably helped build a tolerance.

“Your joints sound like a percussion instrument.”

But when it happens every few minutes, even he starts glancing over like, “Seriously?”

Will dramatically crack his own knuckles in response. “You think you’re crunchy? I’m crunchy and cranky.”

Lowkey gets worried if you ever don’t crack anything for a while. “You good? You’re being too quiet. Pop a shoulder or somethin’.”

Azul Ashengrotto

“WHAT IN THE—Did you dislocate something!?”

Startled so badly he almost drops his contract pen when he hears your shoulder pop while you reach for a teacup.

Stares at you like you just unhinged your entire skeleton.

Offers to fix you. “I have a physical therapist I can call—”

Gets used to it… eventually. (No he doesn’t. He just hides his reaction better.)

Flinches audibly when you crack your neck with a loud POP POP. “You’re not even that old! How are you already decomposing!?”

Malleus Draconia

Genuinely concerned. “Child of man… why do you sound like you’re dying?”

Every crack of your wrist is like a little thunderclap to his ears.

Thinks you might be cursed. “Shall I summon the royal physicians? This must be a rare affliction.”

Stares at you like 🧍when you casually twist and release five vertebrae like a human bubble wrap.

Once he accepts it’s “just a thing you do,” he grows fond of it. If he hears you crack your elbow in another room, he goes, “Ah. They’re awake.”

Will 100% brag to Lilia: “My beloved makes sounds no one else can. Their joints sing the song of time.”

Ruggie Bucchi

“Bro are you sure you didn’t shatter something??”

Jumps like a cat every time you twist your torso and it sounds like a wooden chair snapping in half.

Will tease you forever. “You sound like an old person gettin’ up from a recliner.”

Tries mimicking you and hurts himself. “Ow—ow—okay nevermind you’re built different.”

Gets so used to it that he starts rating them: “Ooh, that one was an 8.5. Got a little reverb to it.”

Makes it his mission to find out which movement cracks which bone. Science.

Floyd Leech

“WHOA. Was that your SPINE? Do it again!!”

Thinks it’s hilarious and awesome.

Purposely pokes and hugs you at odd angles to try to “activate” the mystery bones.

“You’re like a glowstick! I wanna snap you and watch you light up~”

100% asks to lay on top of you just to hear what happens. “Heheh, you’re like a squeaky toy. Crunch crunch~”

Thinks it’s so cool. You're his crunchy toy now.

Jamil Viper

Turns around mid-conversation like “Did you just fall down the stairs?” when you rotate your ankle and it pops three times.

Genuinely thought you were injured the first ten times.

After a while: sighs “If you’re going to do that, at least warn me.”

Thinks you're suffering in silence and will nag: “Drink more water. Stretch properly. Sleep better. Don’t blame your bones if you’re treating them like trash.”

But if someone else mocks you? Oh no. He’s protective.

“They’re fine. Don’t talk like you’ve never had a weird knee click, you hypocrite.”

Idia Shroud

“AH—Oh my god, that sounded like the last boss dying in slow-mo.”

Literally flinches like an NPC taking damage whenever he hears one of your joints pop.

“You okay?? Was that your jaw?? What the heck—are you even human?? That’s some Resident Evil audio.”

The kind of guy to say “Welp, they’re evolving backwards. Next step: fossil.”

But also lowkey fascinated. “Wait… how’d you make your shoulder do that? Can I record it for science??”

Will start trying to time his keyboard clacks to your bone snaps for fun.

[homelanderbutbig]

Sympathy For The Dead (G/T Homelander x Reader)

2145 words. Angst, and a bit of hurt/comfort. Homelander is 8 feet tall. Reader is non-descriptive. Established relationship.

You are forced to come to terms with Homelander's violent tendencies when he murders someone for flirting with you. Inspired by an ask from @adryrivera.

It's early in the morning on the set of 'In Depth With Maria Menounos'. Homelander has an interview scheduled today, and you are accompanying him as his personal assistant. This is the first time you've had this opportunity to come along to one of his functions outside of the Tower, and you're pretty excited. Being on a television production is an entirely different world compared to the mundane office work at Vought, and you're enjoying it even if you're just watching on the sidelines.

When it's time for Homelander to go on-air, you're standing back by the rest of the crew so you can witness your favourite supe work his magic. You smile as he switches on that acting charm when the cameras start rolling, so easily bringing all eyes on him with the suave nature he's perfected over the years. He's such a sight to behold when he's in the spotlight, showcasing that electrifying personality that's as big as he is.

"Don't remember seeing you around here before," a voice suddenly says from behind you. It happens to be one of the cameramen, grinning as he checks you out.

"Oh, yes, I'm Homelander's assistant. Nice to meet you," you politely respond, tucking your clipboard under one arm to shake his hand.

"A supe's assistant huh? That must be an interesting job," he comments, still smirking.

"It's never a dull moment," you laugh, thinking to yourself that he doesn't know the half of it.

"So… you uh, you doing anything later?" he asks, resting his elbow on top of the camera. You're taken aback by his words. Is he… is he asking you out?

"I-I'm sorry, I'm seeing someone," you disclose, perhaps a bit more curtly than you hoped. But all you can think of when hearing that is how pissed Homelander would be at this poor guy.

"Oh, sorry! I didn't realize," he blushes, quickly getting embarrassed by how spectacularly he's struck out.

"Don't worry about it, it's not a problem," you giggle. You can't fault a guy for trying. "Let's just get back to our jobs and forget this happened?"

You're glad he doesn't seem to have taken offense as he nods, letting out a flustered laugh. He returns to operating the camera, and you back to focusing on your clipboard full of the day's scheduling. At least you successfully brushed this situation off, with no harm done.

However, you don't notice Homelander's reaction as he observes this from the midst of his interview.

~~~

After the talk show is done filming, you get caught up talking to Ashley and lose track of time. She's yapping on about Homelander's points and how well this interview went, just more work talk that you could care less about. When you eventually manage to break free, you notice that Homelander is nowhere to be found, having already left the set. But you doubt that he'd leave the building without you so you start your search, happy to tell him how proud you are of his interview.

But you weren't expecting what you find in the downstairs hallway.

You figured he just made a quick getaway because he's always mentioned how much he loathes these mind-numbing talk shows. But instead, you discover his true intentions.

He was following the cameraman.

He kept his pace fast but light, allowing him to go undetected to the man's pathetic human ears. And when he had him isolated in the hallway, he wasted no time letting this worthless, primitive vermin pay for daring to make an advance on you. He lasered a hole straight through his crotch, causing the man to collapse on the ground in agony. He reveled in the look of absolute terror as this worm realized his fate was sealed. He then painstakingly applied pressure to his head, savouring the satisfying crunch of his bones until it was crushed under the supe's boot, leaving nothing but an indistinguishable mess of blood and gore.

You are rooted to the floor, petrified at the sight of what he's done. His head snaps towards you, face twisted with rage and eyes still shining a bright crimson as they stare directly into your soul.

"Come here," you growls at you, raising his hand to signal for you to approach him. He knows you are afraid; he can hear your heart's pace quickening and smell the cortisol levels in your blood spiking. In his mind, he believes you will come to your senses and realize this decision was for the best. You will understand he did this to save you. You are his. You will listen to him. You will obey.

But you don't listen. You only freeze for a second before you turn around and flee. The last thing you hear as you run out of the building is Homelander roaring your name.

~~~

You spend the rest of the day aimlessly traversing the city, paying no attention to where you are going. You needed time alone before you return back to the Tower, before you face Homelander.

It still feels so fresh in your mind. One moment you were chatting with this man, and the next his life is over. In a flash, a human life is snuffed out. Someone with a family, with hopes and dreams. All for what, because he made the fatal error of asking you out on a date?

And the worst sight of all, was the expression on Homelander's face. There was no remorse, no tinge of regret for seeing how you reacted. It was just pure hatred for this man, an absolute stranger. You can't help but wonder how many people he's killed without you knowing.

Finally, the sun begins to set along the city skyline. Night is approaching, and you know you can't simmer on this any longer. You need to confront him, you need answers. Gathering yourself, you catch a taxi back to Vought Tower, and begin your ascent to the penthouse.

With a shaky breath, you step off the elevator once it reaches the top floor and walk briskly inside. However, not in a million years were you expecting what you see in the penthouse. Your lengthy absence clearly took a stronger toll on him than you ever anticipated… he's destroyed the living room. The large American flag tapestry is torn to shreds, adorned with scorch marks from a now extinguished fire. Every single marble statue is cut clean from his laser eyes and smashed to pieces, the gray rubble scattered across the floor. Not even his immaculate leather couch was spared, having been ripped in half by two inhumanly strong hands.

And lastly, in the middle of the chaos, silently sits Homelander on the floor. He's leaning up against the wall, his arms wrapped around his bent-up knees. His face is flushed, eyes bloodshot and puffy from what you can only imagine was a waterfall of tears. Right now he looks like a child trying to huddle himself into a ball because he knows he's in trouble. Yet, you can't help but notice the bloody viscera of the cameraman still coating his boot.

"Why are you here?" he utters abruptly, snapping you back to reality after being overcome by the state of the penthouse. Despite his sad demeanor, his words are blunt and laced with deflection. When you don't answer him, he exhales loudly through his nose. "Why did you come back if you hate me?"

"I don't hate you Homelander," you retort, not taking his bait. You're not sure if that was the answer he was expecting as you watch him tense his jaw.

"Are you mad at me?" he questions you further. You aren't certain if he's fishing for a reason for you to comfort him, or so he can kill you too.

"No. I'm not angry at you," you reply. "But I am disappointed and upset at what you did."

He swallows hard at that, feeling the tears once again well up in his eyes. Disappointed.

"H-he was dangerous… I d-did it to protect you," he mumbles hoarsely. Your unimpressed glower signals to him that you aren't buying his excuses. He knows you aren't going to forgive him, and that's enough to make him hyperventilate. He lowers his head down into his arms, unable to stop himself from crying again. Unable to stop his thoughts from convincing himself that this is how your relationship is going to end.

With a deep sigh, you cross your arms and shake your head at his behaviour. These tears aren't out of sympathy for the dead. You know for a fact that he has no guilt over murdering the cameraman, he's only regretful because he's displeased you.

But the longer you stare at him sobbing so pathetically, the more you start to realize something. You're not looking at the same supe that killed the cameraman; this is Homelander's inner child. This is the boy who was tortured and withheld from love, that had this violence forcibly bred into him. His power over humans was all he had, and now it's so ingrained into his psyche that he cannot stop it from rearing its ugly head.

When he killed the cameraman, he was no longer a man but a dog. He presented his carcass to you as a present, to show you his love in a way you could never comprehend. His love is something feral, that scares everyone else away when it bares its fangs. Yet it has no bite, when deep down his love is never reciprocated, but feared when it becomes too much for the object of his affections to handle.

And as much as it pains you, you know you are going to have to accept this part of him. Because you are the only one who's tamed this dog, and seen the sweet puppy it becomes with just a little compassion.

Methodically, you walk over beside him and place a hand on his arm. Right now with him sitting on the ground you're standing about a foot higher, getting a vantage point you don't experience very often. Hesitantly, he tilts his head up at you. His blue eyes are teeming with apprehension, with the longing for your forgiveness of his actions… even if deep down he knows he doesn't deserve it.

"Hun, I would never let someone else come between us," you soothe him, lifting your hand up from his arm to lightly caress his cheek, saturated with his tears. The second he feels your soft fingers his tension begins to melt away, moving his head up and down to desperately facilitate a pet.

Slowly, Homelander opens up his posture, to allows you to come in between his legs and up to his face. He delicately rests his hands on your waist, waiting for permission to hug you. He can't just take what he wants, not now. He can't bear to make you this unhappy at him ever again.

"And you know what? If I saw somebody flirting with you, I'd get jealous too," you remark, your hands still cupping his face. "But I'm not going to stew on my jealousy until I feel the only solution is violence. I'm going to get those emotions out by talking to you. Because I love you, and I care about you more than anything else."

You steadily come closer to him, spreading your arms across his shoulders to finally give him the hug he's been longing for all day. He wastes no time enveloping you in his hold, burying you in his massive arms as he rests his head in the crook of your neck. Your fingers scratch at the back of his undercut, bringing this dog down to your heels in an instant. Any semblance of rage he may have had earlier in the day has now evaporated into the ether, leaving nothing but the desire for obedience.

"The next time you start to feel yourself getting worked up… wherever you are, can you come find me? Can that be something we work on together?" you ask. His brief nod against your shoulder is enough of an answer, you know he would never lie. And besides, the two of you don't need to say anything else right now. All that's left for today is to let this moment fade into sleep, and let tomorrow be the time to clean up the mess.

While sinking into your embrace, Homelander has his own realization. The way he feels about you is different than his past relationships. You are not his 'property' that he is envious of others ogling. You are his treasure, one that sees the good in him despite all of his own horrible faults. One that he feels he must guard with his entire being.

He is going to be better, if not for himself than just for you.

[ahhhhhhhghghhhgg]

TWST x autistic reader

OCTAVINELLE

Other dorms: Pomefiore(coming soon), Octavinelle(your here), Scarabia(coming soon), Heartslabyul(posted), Savanaclaw(coming soon), Diasomnia(coming soon), Ignihyde(coming soon)

In this fic the reader will represented as (name) and will use gender neutral pronouns, the reader in this fic is not Yuu the reader is just a dorm member of octavinelle (you can have whatever backstory you want, the only thing specific is that you have autism) also this is based of my personal experience with autism but that doesn’t mean all autistic people act the way the reader in the fic does.

———————————————————————————————————

Azul 🐙

as Azul is the house-warden he knows from the start that you have autism (having autism would be on you IEP or 504 plan which teaches and houses-wardens are required to read) he’d know that means you’d have a hard time with certain things so he’d have you work in the lounge accordingly, as you have a hard time with crowds hed have you work in the kitchen rather than waiting tables, he would also give you a break whenever you ask or even if he can tell your getting overwhelmed/overstimulated (he’ll even let you sit in his office) Azul is very perceptive so he’s pick up on your tell’s really easily, he also makes an effort to not seem annoyed if you need him to repeat or explain something again. He’s very supportive!

Azul: “(name) why are you lying on the kitchen floor?”

You: *you are lying face flat on the floor* “muffled groan”

Azul: “Can you answer me or would you prefer I leave?”

You: “…The tiles are cold… and my brain is loud”

Azul: “…Want me to get floyd to squeeze you?”(For the pressure)

You: “…Yes please”

_____________________________________________

Floyd 🦐

Floyd definitely wouldn’t know at first, he’d take you avoiding eye contact and fidgeting as you being intimidated by him, most people are. He’d keep around you though, he finds your reactions and stimming interesting. Sometimes you’d seem really nervous then you’d ask him to squeeze you (for the pressure) and he wouldn’t think twice about it lol. He’d wonder why azul gives you “special treatment” and he’d whine about it to azul so much he had to tell Floyd about your autism. Floyd was just like 0-0. Nothing changed about how he interacted with you after that, maybe he was just a little bit less loud than usual around you.

You:“Floyd?”

Floyd:“Yeah shrimpy?”

You:“Can you… squeeze me… like really hard?”

Floyd: “SAY LESS‼️” *doesn’t even think about it and gives you the most bone crunching hug ever*

_____________________________________________

Jade 🍄

jade would know pretty much right away, like azul he’s extremely perceptive and he would notice when things get too overwhelming, he’s silently help from the sidelines, if he could tell a task was overwhelming you he’d ask you to handle something he had to do and insist on finishing up your task in the meantime. He’d bonk Floyd for ya if he’s being too loud and if anyone ever made fun of you about your autism… let’s just say the next day they would be profusely, apologizing to you. I feel like jade would gift you things like long rubber gloves for when you have to wash the dishes at the lounge so that the stuff doesn’t touch you and set off your sensory issues, and he’d be happy to yap about your hyper fixations with you (as long as he gets to yap about mushrooms)

Jade: “I discovered a Death cap mushroom on my hike recently, did you know the death cap is responsible for most fatal mushroom poisonings? It looks similar to edible mushrooms like Caesar's mushroom, and can taste pleasant So people often eat it by mistake”

You: “Did you know A new species of titanosaur (Titanomachya gimenezi) was just discovered? It was named after Dr. Olga Giménez, the first female paleontologist to study the dinosaurs of the Chubut province. The dinosaur is estimated to have weighed about 7 tons!!”

*Jade and you yapping*

_____________________________________________

I hope you enjoyed this fic!!!!

If you have any requests, please send them in‼️

[numberonetacostan]

OKOKOKOK SOOOOOOOOO THIS IS HER!!!!!!!

i can list a few fun facts.. which im gonna do now :33

during season one, having wings gave her an unfair advantage in challenges, so she wasn’t allowed to use them for any purposes. couldnt even stretch em,,,, poor thing /silly

in her reference sheet (which is outdated but. whatever we ball) she wears a single leg warmer because she gave the other one to pickle at some point during season one.. after the finale, he considered throwing it away. but he could never bring himself to do so.

speaking of the finale!!!!!! whenever bow attacks her, it ends up dislocating one of her wings. she doesnt realize until she tries to make a getaway, the bone crunching and injury becoming worse by the second. this permanently hinders her flight abilities.

she can glide for short periods of time and make short jumps but thats it really,,

steps on her tail like 10 times a day /silly

during the first challenge, she tried to fly a bit closer to the water.. someone saw, and thats where she almost got disqualified as a whole /hsilly

season 2:

whenever she meets microphone she falls flat on her face because she tries looking cool

microphone asks about the single leg warmer.. just to get told to focus on the challenge instead of tacos personal life

uuuhh i actually dont have a lot for season 2,,,,, eek

theres a little more but i feel like this ask’s already pretty long eheh,,, i hope you liked my yapping :3

Hi Andrew!!^^ Welcome back, and thank you for sending in an ask!! :]

Ah, so she's the only one with wings here? Is everyone else a different sort of animal-adjacent object, then? Very neat!!

She can never fly properly again? :(!!!! My poor Taco!!! :,[!!!!!! Aough my apologies I do not do well with permanent injuries, they make me so sad!!!

Hehe, her falling because she's trying to look cool for Mic is very cute!!!

I did enjoy your yapping!! :)

[sallowsoul]

idk what i did to make her face look so squished but considering this corrupted on me twice im not gonna play w/ it anymore... anyways

just wanted to do a lil doodle of savina and some things she enjoys / keeps with her / etc. finally designed her wand too! a little explanation for everything and some bonus info not pictured bc i ran out of layers:

point and laugh at her for being short. granted, the heels on her boots do help. i wanted to draw her looking a little more shy/quiet/tired. beneath the veneer she tries to present to others, she's struggling a lot and is really quite bashful. avoids sleep often or just can't sleep due to nightmares - sometimes ones that are prophetic or generally ominous, though she never knows what is and what isn't, and it makes her paranoid. her wand is made of hawthorn { i have my own lore for this oops } with a dragon heartstring core, 11 3/4", and has a handle made of marble, mother of pearl, and silver. { the flexibility thing still confuses me lol so i haven't picked one! } her sketchbook goes with her everywhere and was a birthday gift from her father, and the cover is embossed with her initials. just above it is a note she always keeps in her bag, the first little love note she ever received from sebastian. { it's proudly signed Bast, her nickname for him, and it is the first of what becomes Very Many } okay the rest is going under a read more so i don't clog anyone's dash!

she may not always carry the set of runes with her, but they were inherited from her mother. her mama is from norway and knows old norse and the elder and younger futharks, but pictured here is the elder futhark. something else she's very careful with is her mourning locket; it contains a small cutting of her twin sister's hair, along with a pressed forget-me-not. she's very careful about wearing it around & outside of hogwarts as she doesn't want to risk damaging or tarnishing it. she may not carry a full unicorn skull with her everywhere - though could you imagine - but she is very interested in the macabre and occult; she loves oddities and collects them herself, along with involvement with things like muggle spiritualism/contacting the dead/etc. her sketchbook also has a lot of drawings of the various specimens throughout hogwarts. perfume is something she'll always keep with her - her signature scent is a mix of almond, anise, candle smoke, a pinch of vanilla, and a touch of lavender. wispy, somewhat haunting, but with a lingering sweetness. some of her favorite treats are jelly slugs and skeletal sweets - i know skeletal sweets have been shown to be some sort of chocolate, i believe? but i liked the idea of them being gingerbread-y! each bite sounds like bones crunching. delightful! she is a lefty!! her patronus is a lamb, but later on when she becomes an animagus, her form takes that of a wolf. many a connotation here............ can't wait to explore it in fic and lore posting. i'm always happy to yap in dms or through asks too!

[smol-phish]

Light is a narcissist.

i thought it was obvious but for some reason haven't seen anyone talk about it yet. maybe haven't been on this site long enough? i don't know i just want to yap about this and get my 3 notes from my friend that's why i installed this app so

many times i heard that light and L are autistic on opposite sides of the spectrum but it makes much more sense if light is a narcissist. he is manipulative, has no remorse, no empathy, can't admit his own mistakes even to himself etc. you know all that. he is drawn to only one person - who is clearly autistic, and the narcissist/autistic dynamic is the strongest and the most painful to both. narcissists hate autistic people because they can't read them, find them weird because they "aren't trying to fit in" (as they think) unlike narcissists who spend most their energy on appearing perfect, just for some reason find them off-putting in every aspect and they like to break autistic people because it is "funnier" to misguide them, to gaslight them and etc.

both autistics and narcissists have a strong sense of justice, only very different to its core (well everyone is different but talking about lawlight here obviously), when L wants to stop the murders because you can't just take someone's life and light believes he is the god and can make the world better by taking lives on his judgement (also this god complex is like straight up a red flag lol).

another reason i believe light is a narcissist is the fact that he has a crush on a guy who doesn't give a shit he just wants to solve puzzles and eat cake all day like wdym i'm not special and interesting and very smart and and and i want to crush you with my bare hands and crunch on your bones and then you'll see!!!

sorry this post has no structure just wanted to yap also no hate to yagami the bitch light let him be hysterical about his handcuffed boyfriend who doesn't notice him enough i love some toxic yaoi have a good night

[theesirenteller]

Reaper's Crow. 𝖙𝖍𝖗𝖊𝖊☞

Chapter one

Chapter two

"Wait! Wait! Please!" The man begged with tears leaking down his face as he fearfully held his hands up. "You don't have to do this. I can give you money. Lots of money and you can walk away from all this."

"And why would I want to do that?" The Reaper questioned. His tone was monotonous and dull as he adjusted his leather gloves to stretch further across his thick fingers,"Unfortunately for you, I like my job." The Reaper's venomous words sent one last shock of fear through his blood covered victim. His monstrous large hands clasped around the man's head with a bone-breaking squeeze. With a violent yank the man's head dislocated from his shoulders. Every bone and muscle in his neck snapped and cracked loudly, The beige skin turned a deep shade of plum and green as it was forcefully stretched and broken apart. 

The metallic odor of blood filled the air as the hot liquid messily splattered over The Reaper and painted his boots.Grueling screams could be heard from afar as he dropped the head onto the floor. Pulling two daggers from the back of his faded black blood-covered jeans, He made his way down the murky hall that smelt of sewer water and shit. He'd been edging his way towards the gated elevator door when a rusty metal rod was plunged into his right shoulder from behind. Causing him to let out a roar and hiss. Before he could react further, harsh blows to the side of his shoulder and face were shot with fists. Those barely hurt compared to the rod sticking out of the side of his shoulder. The burly man turned himself around swiftly and upper cutted his attacker. Who was revealed to be a scrawny man with a gash across his face and pink-fleshed wounds. The Reaper's anger overrode his pain and using an iron fist he punched directly into the man's mouth. 

Over and over again his busted knuckle smashed into the man's mouth. Loud crunches of broken teeth, gurgles of the man choking on his own blood sounded off through the narrow hallway.The victim's jaw dislocated and detached as The Reaper shoved his fist into the mouth. Ravenously, he busted through the flesh cavity and yanked the spinal cord in half. Blood splattering across The Reaper's face and hair. His once golden hair is now crimson red. 

A taller but skinnier male with a bloody hatchet had come out of one of the rooms. A cigar laid between his yellow teeth."Well got dang partner, that worthless sac'a horse shit done gotcha good, boy," The Mississippi hillbilly chuckled."I just got choppin a sorry son of a bitch, myself. Fucker shitted all over my shoes…"

As his partner for this job kept yapping away, The Reaper clenched his jaw whilst wrapping his hand around the rode. WIthout waiting another minute he had yanked it out from his shoulder. A sharp grunt escaped his lips as he straightened up with a shaky breath.

"You cold skinned mother fucker! Woo!" the hillbilly holler and cheers loudly.

Anger replaced the pain the reaper felt, "Let's just finish this shit." He grunted as he held the blood rod in one hand and his dagger in the other. The game was not yet finished and the 'No survivors' bonus sounded great right about now. The Reaper never left any surviving victims and even though the higher ups didn't care either which way. The Reaper always exceeded their expectations. He'd made more money with this job than he ever dreamed of in his past life.

Jax had killed so many men in his time that he felt like a savage. He'd lost, he'd taken, and yet he never gained. Always taking care of his club. They were all he had and went above his children. Went above his family and that was his greatest mistake. What he lost morally and emotionally, he now gained financially. It didn't bring him the money. But it made moving around much easier.

Meanwhile; three hours away Scout had awoken from her slumber in their new residence. WIthin the coastal town of WIlderbridge, Reaper had acquired a home just a mile outside of town. The two story barn-style home was run down. Seated on an acre of land within the high tree forest. Besides the running water and active electricity, the home was desolate and dreary.Scout didn't mind, it was a new place to explore away from her deceased master. Reaper had only been in the home long enough to drop her in it and leave household supplies he'd acquired from a passing shop before he left. Which had been at least two days ago and Scout slept through it all. Now feeling rested, her sock covered feet hit the dusty, creaky floorboards as she arose from the queen sized bed.With her back arched like a cat she stretched. The heavy rain kissing the forest dirt and tapping against the house created a tranquil ambiance within the house.

The old floor creaked underneath her feet as she made her way down the hall and into the bathroom. Catching a glimpse of her bruised face in the mirror caused her to sigh. The swelling had gone down but the bruising had turned a darker shade of purple with hues of yellow and green. A gastly sight that she couldn't bare to look at for too long.without wanting burst into tears.After freshening up with a long hot shower, wrapping her hair in a stretched out henley tee, and getting dressed in sweats and reaper's tee shirt; Scout made her way downstairs. The first floor consisted of a small, almost modest bedroom sized, living room. A large kitchen and a door that led to the back porch. Her baby blue sneakers got scuffled with dust and dirt as she explored the closets. The closet by the front door had a stack of brooms and mops covered in mainly cobwebs and dirt."This will do for now", Scout sighed as she grasped the broom and mop. The Reaper had brought a small bottle of liquid soap from the dollar store on the way home so that was what she used with hot water to clean the place. She mopped, swept, and scrubbed away the majority of the dust and dirt.

After opening up the kitchen windows along with the upstairs ones; Scout retrieved a single hundred dollar bill from the stack of money that Reaper had given her. Stuffing it underneath her bosom she then proceeded to put on a hoodie to compact the brisk weather. A wanderlust blazed within her to go explore. She'd left the home and walked aimlessly through the woods. Mother nature was so enchanting. The hobbit-sized woman looked with awe at the thick trunks of the aged trees as she inhaled their decaying woodsy scent. The damp musty odor of wet mud didn't faze her one bit as she skipped along. The rain kissing at her face caused a child-like giggle to escape her lips. Gleefully she began to run. Run through the forest as fast as a deer frolicking.This was freedom. Becoming friends with the trees and one with the earth. Mother nature embraced the motherless child and filled her. Embraced Scout with gentle arms and listening ears. Filled her with peace, serenity, and most of all enlightenment. In this overwhelming moment Scout couldn't be more grateful to Reaper for saving her. Gifting her with the gift of freedom and for that she felt forever bound to him. Bounded to the dark shadow of a man with blood stained hands and heart of a warrior.

Using her photogenic memory,Scout had remembered the way to town from the drive to the new home. She ended up right in the middle of town with only a few more steps. The town of WIlderbridge was nothing short of close knit that was the perfect place for a family vacation or romantic getaway. Located on the transition area between land and sea. Large cliffs could be seen from miles away. The shops were all tightly seated next door to one another with apartments on top of each one. 'What does a home need?' she wondered to herself.Not just the basics of pots, pans, and some curtains. No, what did a house need to make it a home? That she really couldn't answer. 'Pretty things.' Scout concluded. With a pip in her step, the curly-haired woman ventured forward. 

First stop was the farmer's market.The place felt like a wonderland. Vibrant colors and large varieties of different homemade items. It was beautiful and she hadn't seen anything like it. By the time she finished shopping and spent every penny she had; Scout was drowning in cloth tote bags. She skipped happily through puddles on her way back home. The sky began to grow dark as she returned.

WIth sore shoulders she laid the bags onto the floor of the entryway before leaving her mud covered shoes on the front porch, Just before her hands pushed the door shut,,,the large truck pulled in. Reaper made his way out of the driver's seat and staggered along. Stopping by the front door the pair eyes one another. Scout with widened eyes and Reaper with glaring ones. A permanent grimace across his lips."The hell happened to you?" he grunted over as his chilling blue eyes looked up and down.

"I went shopping…did some exploring."She replied bashfully, eyeing him as well. "You look…" she fumbled to find the words,"Tired."

"Like shit you mean." He scoffed before starting to make his way inside. He was blocked and slightly taken aback by her hand pressing against his wet coat.

"Take off your shoes. You'll track mud inside." Scout said. 

Her request fell on deaf ears as Reaper pushed past her. His movements were swift and harsh. She took notice of how he ducked his head down and dragged himself in through the door. He had barely made it to the living room before collapsing onto the floor. The large thump caused the whole house to raddle.

"Reaper!" Scout squeaked before rushing over towards him. She dropped to her knees beside him and carefully poked his side. He didn't move one bit. The only sign of life was the air escaping his nostrils."Oh dear…don't worry I'll help you." she whispered frantically. her fingers wrapped around the corners of the collar of his wet jacket before she yanked it off with all her might. A groan escaped The Reaper's lips as she did so. A sloppy bandage soaked in blood covered his shoulder. Scout winced at the sight before getting up onto her feet and rushing to the front door. She had made sure to lock it and place a nearby footstool underneath the lock as a makeshift deadbolt. A Sense of fear had struck her at the thought of someone possibly hurting them both now that Reaper was wounded. In his line of work she didn't know what to expect. 

The new pillows she brought would now have to be used. He placed his head on one and used the others for the right side of his body as she used all her waist to turn him over. Pushing herself forward from the strength of her hips and knees, Scout pushed and pushed until he was laid on his non-wounded side. Wounds were nothing new to her. She had her fair share of ugly scars. Either she had to clean herself up or have a maid do it. 

Reaper had a first aid kit laid carelessly in the kitchen sink and when Scout went to retrieve it, she tossed her wet clothing onto the floor before boiling a pot of water on the stove. A few sprinkles of rock salt were added to it with a penny sized amount of alcohol. Once the water was warm enough, Scout carried the pot with her. Thunder crackled loudly causing her to flinch as she rushed back to the living room.The monstrous lightening being the only light visible in the compact space. Popping the kit open she proceeded to take out gauze bandaging, antibiotical cream, and surprisingly a syringe and morphine. 

When she had ripped his dirty henley shirt off her eyes ranked along his back. Angry, reddened slashes healed and some slightly more fresh painted his skin. As if someone played tic-tac-toe with a knife. She swiftly turned away from staring and ran the lukewarm water through the wound. A grizzly grunt escaped his lips against the pillow as she cleaned the wound. She then proceeded to pat the area around the open flesh dry before applying the antibacterial cream around the pink colored scab. The wound looked angry and she practically climbed on top of his lower back to tightly wrap the gauze around his large shoulder and arm. Scout used a total of two gauzes before everything was set in place snuggly and firm. With steady hands, the woman filled the syringe with morphine and injected it into his arm. 

As she cleaned off the day's dirt from his face and hair with a wash rag; scout admired his face. He aged like fine wine. Even with a scowl across his medium-sized lips and frowning crease indented in the middle of his forehead from glaring so much; He was enchanting. He had such a nordic, rustic type of beauty to him. Perhaps he was a viking in his past life. He sure had the looks of one.

"Don't you die on me Reaper." Scout whispered as she ran her fingers through his hair. 

 He felt like hell. The Reaper had awoken by the sounds of rain pickling against wood and the scent of lemon and sugar. Lowly dim lights from candles on the coffee table had  allowed him to see within the once dark room. His bones ached as his body felt heavy. Slowly he sat up with his jaw clenching as pain shot up his arm. Looking down for a moment, he noticed he was covered in layers of quilts. To which he peeled off as he began to stand with help from his arm and hand. The Reaper wiggled his toes as he looked down at the fresh pair of socks that covered his feet.

She fixed him up…Reaper realized as he brushed his hand along his arm. 

"Scout." He called out for her. He began making his way towards the hallway staircase and that was when he heard the loud gushing of the shower running. Turning away on heel, Reaper followed the scent of lemon and sugar to the kitchen. 

A single candle was placed on the table alongside a plate with lemon loaf on it. Some sort of white icing glazed the top of it and Reaper couldn't deny it smells heavenly. As he looked closer, the word 'Reaper' was written in icing across the pastry. The slightness of a smile creased the corner of his lips for a moment. It caused a spark of warmth within his cold being. He took a seat upon the creaky-old wooden chair before cutting himself a hefty slice.The quiet sense of normality in just eating a homemade piece of food and sitting in a kitchen felt so serene. Food had been made for him by the women in his life for as long as he could remember but the thought and feeling felt like a distant memory.

"Oh! I'm so happy you're awake. How are you feeling?" Scout's chipper tone broke Reaper from his sulking thoughts. His eyes ranked over her as she stood before him dressed in a figure-hugging ribbed dress that stopped just above her plump thighs. Her tight coils glisenced with water as they sat at the edge of her neck. a few droplets of water staining the top of her dress. He took notice of how plump and ample her skin was. So soft and squishy in appearance. She radiated the word cozy.

"Better than when I came in." His eyes pierced into hers as Scout walked closer to him. He could smell the fresh mint of her soap. "Thanks for patching me up. Where'd you learn how to do that,darlin?" his attention fell to her ass as she walked by him to get to the stove.

"You took care of me. Only right I do the same." She insisted as she grasped two newly brought kitten mugs, "Trial and error over the years. Some stuff I learned from the maids." Black coffee was poured into both mugs, "I take it you're a one sugar type of guy."

"You're right." Reaper smirked. 

The ceramic clicked against the table top as she set the mugs down. Taking a seat. her eyes ranked along his bare chest. A thick honey blonde happy trail was perfectly laid along his lower abdomen. The script-like font tattoo across his muscular peck sparked her curiosity. She dared not ask about it. Scout figured it was either his father's name or his child's name. Her master had a list of his children's names tattooed on his back. All eighteen of them.

"Are we…are we staying here long? Is this our home now?" Scout asked after moments of silence.

Our home. Our. 

 Terms that Reaper hadn't heard in a decade."The contract is for a year. This place is close but not too close so…yeah." He proceeded to wash down his slice of pastry with the hot beverage. The man nearly choked on his food when he was suddenly embraced in a tight hug. Breasts pressed against his face with arms wrapped around his neck. For a minute, he sat there stiff. His hands soon raised up and with a bit of hesitation, Reaper laid his hands against her waist and embraced her.

Despite the affection feeling foreign; they both basked in it and held one another in silence. "You should get some sleep." Reaper was the first to pull away. Scout bashfully nodded and fiddled with her fingers. She spun around on her heel and left back upstairs without a word. Utterly, at a loss for words. The pair both couldn't shake the ghostly smiles plastered on their lips.

Taglist; @velocibee @darklydeliciousdesires @darqchilddaydreamz @youflickedtooharddamnit

Four ☞

[dark-twist-fairytales]

Clayton yapper here once more!

Fr that man adores his wife.

Since you have given permission to yap i shall share some headcanons of mine!:

- Clayton is very good at drawing, those sketches he took in death house? Terrifyingly accurate. He has tons of journals at home from when he was 3 and drew for fun up until currently

- He plays piano (pretty sure thats canon.) And Him, Clara and Emmy have a tradition that the night before he leaves for expeditions they all gather around it whilst he plays and Clara sings.

- since i love trans Clayton I like the idea that he just, polymorphed himself one day, and hes never looked back (perks of being a Wizard)

A sadder headcanon here!

- When he finally returns home he now always checks his meals for foul magic, unless he saw it be prepared or he made it himself. (He ate bones twice thats gonna mess a guy up)

I also have one more but im currently working that into a comic.

I fucking LOVE these!

-There is actually an art technique that utilizes sketching your surroundings with only your sight, not an awful lot of shading or anything (like Derek's "I went to clown school", instead I went to art school-). Clayton's damn good in his field for a reason.

-It is canon! Unless Death House got retconned, him and Kana played a duo on the piano and harp! I'm now imagining that that scene brought up memories for Clayton.

-YES. I remember writing 't4t Claytin and his wife' and then fell the fuck asleep, I HARD agree with trans Clayton.

-Poor guy and his bone eating. On a twisted note, he'd probably be able to crunch into bones easily. Chicken and steak on the bone would be off the menu for a bit because he just crunches into them then stares off into the middle distance. Entirely by accident as well, which only makes the situation worse.

When that comic comes around, I would love to see it!

[minecraft-fanfiction-house]

Gore' Over Minecraft

Goretober Prompts By @cartexcreationsart & Oc-tober writing prompts from kharmio_’s

The Gore over Fic, play on words of Go Over of going over something or reading{or gore all over Minecraft hehe}. Might not be completing, wich is exactly why I told myself to write atleast 200 words. But hey 1696 seems like, a fine number to be <3

The Poacher's Curse

Summeray, not as poacher oc focused <3

TW & Warning

- Gutspilling - Rotting

- Character introduction

This isnt beta-read and not good pacing... but I did get to write my oc and brainstorm what a ravaged werewolf priest would look like, but their aren't that good of detailed scenes.. I mean I dont have to warn about that, I can be as bad as i want I'm only warming up to november.

but i cant help but overexplain know can I- Hah! <3 Thank you for reading, and yknow what yeah sure criticise the obvious be the beta-reader I never asked to read over before I post Haha! oh if you want, my friends are gonna hype me over my writing{Ive yapping to long on my tumblr than my ao3 notes}

Staring blankly at the stars, losing my mind, and spacing out. My neck crunches, like I was a creeper dried over the seasons.

Clutching my journal with a Ravager icon, I posture myself to clutch it with both arms and hang it over my robe. My brain slowly seeps out what I was losing my head about as I move like a statue.

Looking at the path, going away to the rotting frog spiked by an anti-herbivore branch, being eaten alive by butterflies. 

The cliff might be a nice way to catch the wind, but oh do I love the leaves, the breeze dodging trees and hitting me. My shoes clopped onto the stones that bloom from my view, my tail curling like a flame the fireflies making stary hues, the wind grazing my horns to ice, and my tusk tasting like bones with the smell of a sweet candle. 

As any teeth taste like.

I remember getting those candles from a while ago for my church. The circular granite building on the other side of the cliff sees the ocean horizon of trees. It’s a swampy mangrove, so there is a lot more ocean for the mangroves.

I clank on the steps inside the church, sliding my feet elegantly to the side of my shoe. The jewelled fireflies that go down my robe, flicker up with light. \\as if they were still alive, but hey they're appreciated. Are these taxidermy with cotton? I never asked as much as I forget.

Clopping my way in I see the stage, or one slabbed stage with a cobblestone book holder. With moss coated like glitter mold, pretty.

“Good stature nurse’s apprentice, I'm glad if you seem to get it as a habit.”

I nod with a smile and greeting.

An Evoker doctor needs some spirits to help in sickness to soothe in death. A bit like Vex nurses from those novels; A vex playing gently with a telescope from movies, and another vex holding an axe for happy amputations.

Usual mansions aren't that organized and even the evokers know just how to raid. Which would make them sound stupid, but oh well.

“Heheheha.”

“What are you laughing about?” 

“Ehehe.”

“What an answer.” Priest clapped sarcastically, clasping their hands together in their priest wear. Simple and modesty to the swamps royal purple. 

European rulers hated us. {Elizabeth}

“Well let's get to work.” Preistest chirped, “I have some task for you to help out in medical research, I told you during the Eclipse funeral festival.” 

Some people refer to it as a peekaboo festival during the day people thought the sun died, and the religion was separated in interpretations of whether necromancy was ok.

“Right” If I could remember from yesterday in church, that one thing he might've told me over the music before jazzing…

‘The life, and uniqueness from the dark abstraction that light gives. Let the firefly guide your power in your worth and uniqueness.’...‘There is peace to being hidden with the shade the sun gives us, as its creature we see in the dark that glows that guide us.’

It was a great festival, that's all I remember with all the food.

I follow down the triangular top-cut sandwich steps. With two moons I bet it can have glasses. Or would that be a werewolf and some random werefox? Are werefoxs moon or astroid adjacent, or would that be another mammal? Would it be wrong to use two cobblestone rocks as sunglasses? {with the deities of the moon in mind…}

Twirling a round to the first portrait, and some candles. I sometimes sit there in an abandoned church stairwell. But I haven't been hanging out with coffin-eyes for some time, abroad in all. Not that I lived by her place.

With each step, I hardly pass a glance at the stained glass window, but the sun rises seeping the stairs like pink blazes for the next stained window. 

We pass each one, more contrast, more cold, more warm. Nature, Sea, Deserts, Mobs in rays.

My legs hurt. If I haven't been doing this for a while- Ayooo! 

Hehe, I'm sounding like the witch Covetouss… Is that a title like the Head of a coven leader? 

We're here, lovely wood and the moist air of moss. Closed? This is the first time I've even been this far, and I've only ever seen this door from the outside.

“Come along now” The priest calls me over.

Tailing behind the priest, they seemed farther along, looking behind me I gave a small wave.

Ok, I take it back my calves are just aching.

Oh The Red Stained sun, overseeing poacher’s weapons and hunter’s weapons.

My shoe touched a small water puddle, that sticks a little to my shoes. They don't stick on the walls, but it is probably the lighting. 

I lower my head, glancing at the window. Staring at it, blankly, would I ever have to deal with one?

The door creaks open, only hear an echo of my mentor's boots with the metal shackle clanking only so quietly. We did pass the cobblestone gate fence with a lock, I didn't think I'd have to go down for more steps. 

Nor did I think how spacious it sounded, this isn't a cave, and from the outside by the stained glass… This way was invisible. 

Best be moving. I hear the slow footsteps up the stairs, It's probably the janitor with the way they usually take each of their steps and the bucket clanking with water.

The cut and clean cobblestone embedded with dirt in between the cracks of the cellar, I wonder if there’s wine.

Speed walking by the priest, I re-adjusted my book, only tailing behind the priest. Their tails swish more like water, or one of a snake.

 Why have I been smelling iron so strongly? 

I can see the end of the tunnel, outside in peace. Two rugged men crouching down to the perched horned man.

“The cold makes it burn.”

Ah, they're here because they need help adjusting to being a Graveager. Being blessed into a Graveager after a Ravager’s isn't for everyone, cause why enjoy grieving? I mean there are solemn holidays and moments. 

I’m not one to know.

Being born one might be natural, with some slight adjusting to turning into just an illager. I was too lazy to figure that out until I was convicted. {-Convention AbuDhabi in April * If you don't see a illager cardboard head(InJireiKei), I just failed <3}

I gaze lower to see their clothes; a simple light grey that contrasts his gray skin. The belt is buttoned with a skull button with crossing shovels.

A Mourge’s worker. Not an unusual pick, I guess that would make sense. I just don’t particularly know a lot of morgues workers

I look at the priest, with the sun-shaded light scruffing the opening of the gate, butterflies tasting rotting leg. shacklet up, and under a sheet of fabric.

They looked up at me, the green eyes looked dull, with dry cheeks, if only for the priest to want to see that man cry, but butterfly demons tempt one to enjoy blood.

It seems you're feeding the butterflies well. ‘They seem more like parasites now’ would be a great response… If they knew Gibberish, as some foreigners would say. 

My tail touches a stick, clanking with the metal spike at its head. I look back... Straight to the chained illager.

Their hand looks bruised, and the rope in the side of the room's open cell is scratched up and bloodied.

Harpoons are usually used for a whale modded into the ocean.

The cell, raw stone with moss eats the blood on the dirt floor.

The bony ribcage was broken, it looked like the aftermath of a falling ceiling filled with slimy bloodied worms spilled over the dust of rocks. Or at least their broken bones.

My nose has been scrunching from the smell, I don't know the spell that makes someone withstand rotting alive. You have to be a zombie for that.

And they have horns, a bitten-off tail, and tusks. Their clothes were slightly ripped and tightened around their body. Making their blood from small scratches pulse out unless it became puss. Did they fall in a thorn patch?

The priest decides to answer.

“Poachers deserve to suffer, it's a curse sometimes.” They rummage through their sleeve, “Well unless they mess with someone who curses. Then what are you going to do.”

Exp fell to the ground to my shined shoes. My shoulders flinch up dropping my book on the exp. I quickly picked it up and slid on the smooth stone back. 

The fireflies on my robe brightened, as I rubbed off the exp on my robe. Holding the book on my side.

This was a little more terrifying and better than letting foreign doctors and archeologists have our ancestor's bones to keep.

The priest got out a small journal. Pulling their sleeves string, closing it back again with water books that don't seem to poke out. Comfortable sleeves that seemed cushion thats for sure.

It hurts a little, that I still hear panting. The breathy and tired voice easily reached the small enclosed space. If I were a priest, I’d never have the control to use an undying totem for torture, if only the Evokers worry that they'd be a slightly different person.

“So Ghost Nurse, could you remove the stomach guts thing”

… I looked around, and just placed my book by the harpoon.

I yanked the organs, It was so warm.

“...I feel like the witch would've told you even basic of wearing a glo- I'll get the gloves,”

The priest sighed, and left to get it for me, I think. I don’t trust my assumptions. On what they said, forgetting it like a mist spritz in the nether.

Staring blankly, cracking the top back of my neck to the cellmate… The groaning sound not coming from this poacher.

 I continue to lay out the guts. It's so much more squashed inside a person. Through the iron bars, I saw The morgue worker clutching their stomach.

-1696 Words {it did change depending on wich fanfiction site I used}

It was supposed to be more than 200... Not more than 1222!Idk how I did this over one day of school, but I kept on placing pacing scenes. I had more fun when we reached into the tunnels.So for my own critique of not being able to do well using an oc introduction prompt. I should've started passing by the red stained glass, and gutspill scene... and organized the guts n all. They are an oc that came out of a cosplay in an illager head with jerai kei dress i just adore {the robe one sold out so cute skirt it is}

… Is it bad i wanna ship the gravedigger with the poacher as long as I give the poacher some complex sad story? XD

Honestly, when writing the mourge worker I thought. What if they were connected, in some way? And the dudes got some soul-connected thing with him, they both might've died and the undying totem was used at the same time. HAh!  You can you have your own interpretations <3

Trick Or Treat

{: Which chapters are delightful or wich are dreadful:}

Bitten candy

Frozen music

Or bloodspill-filled pie

The blood might be dirty from being scooped out of the ground

{Warning: Titles may be misleading and arnt promised}

[sillywhumpcreature]

the mandela catalouge whump story i wrote woohoo um heads up its unfinished

cw for dog attacks, broken bones, blood, panic attacks,

'This house has hellhounds.. They are like dogs, right? They wont notice me, hopefully.. I'll be fine!'

That's what the alternate thought to itself, as it nervously yet excitedly clambered into the house they had been assigned to. It's first mission! How exciting! It shivered with nervous excitement, looking around the quiet living room it has climbed into. The television was still on, flickering, with a robot chicken episode playing quietly from it, and it brought the alternate a strange sense of.. comfort. The room seems to almost distract the alternate, his focus away from its task, as it quietly sneaked over to the television. It didn't know what episode it was playing, but it was the one about a pegasus and a little girl. It smiled slightly, letting itself get sidetracked by the bright colours. That's when it heard.. something. Claw against wood, and an extremely distorted growl of a dog. It looked around confused, not understanding where the noise was coming from, when in a flash...

CRUNCH.

An unbearable pain filled the alternates entire body, as it's left leg went completely limp, making it fall down and hit the table. It's eyes filled with shocked tears, crying out in a desperate attempt to call for help. That's when it felt itself being dragged being somewhere, ripped away from the sense of comfort before being flung down some stairs, hitting most of them, every strike against the wooden steps causing more pain, some hurting more then others. It managed to get a look for a split second at the being, just before hitting its head HARD against the floor, knocking it out. All it saw was boss for a split second before it woke back up instantly from being thrown against the wall, hitting its arm weird. It finally, despite the blurred, painful vision, got a somewhat good look at the thing. A HELLHOUND. In a futile attempt to struggle, the alternate tried to drag itself away with the one arm that didn't result in extreme pain to move. It didn't work. The hellhound proceeded to bite into all limbs, mimicking that same, piercing pain, making the alternates eyes water even more. The only thing that repeated in the alternates head was 'DON'T CRY DON'T CRY ALTERNATES ARE DEMONS THEY DON'T CRY WHEN IN DANGER DON'T CRY DON'T CRY' punctuated by panicked images of just what the hellhound was capable of. It, feeling itself escaping into its terrified thoughts, froze up, desperately and weakly trying to stop itself from freaking out and hyperventilating.

The hellhound broke the alternate out of that void by slamming it, yet again, HARD against the concrete floor. The alternate couldn't help but yap out in pain like some kind of giant puppy, making the hellhound laugh. EVERYTHING HURT. It violently shivered, from fear as well as pain, looking up at the sadistically giggling hellhound. That couldn't help but hit its confidence a lot. 'WAIT ITS LAUGHING AT ME? OH NO OH NO OH NO OH NO OH NO WHAT DID I DO TO GET LAUGHED AT STOP IT STOP IT'  Causing the  poor alternate to have the tears it had been desperately trying to hold back to come out. The alternate started weakly sobbing, making the hellhound laughing even harder. The words STOP IT was stuck on loop in its mind. 

The hellhound bit straight into his already, incredibly painful left leg, making the alternate cry out, before it dragged it towards a room only accessible by a large doggy door, that fit the dog that was attacking it perfectly. The room it was dragged into was cold, and dark, and being dragged along the hard concrete floor stung against the alternates wounds. It threw the alternate into the room and sealed it, trapping the alternate in the freezing, dark room all by itself. Almost instantaneously, it started stressing. Dark. Silent. Cold. ALONE. That's when something hit the alternate. It's breath turned wheezy and heavy, the concussion made its head pound, it shook violently. Alternates don't get scared, what's happening? It struggled to even breathe properly, as it realized. Is this what Gabriel calls a 'panic attack'? 

That's when the noise returned. Very faint light slightly appeared in the room as alongside the first pit bull dog came a second hellhound. A bulldog holding chains that had small spikes on them, with a prong collar at the end. The alternate started, trying to back up against the wall as much as it could with both of its, incredibly broken and agonizing legs, even thought even slightly moving them caused unbearable, stabbing pain in its entire lower half, making it tear up. The two hellhounds rushed towards the alternate unexpectedly, making it gasp in shock. Before it could even process what had happened, it felt razor-like claws dig into its flesh, and something incredibly spikey stabbing its neck. It, yet again, let out a pained whimper, attempting to lash out against the hounds by slashing its arm despite the fact it caused it agonizing pain. The hounds merely blinked, looking down at the alternate with an 'are you serious' expression, before rushing in again to grab the alternates arm, the bulldog chaining the alternate to the wall by the neck and the pit-bull tugging at the alternates arm. The alternate tried to tug away, causing so much pain, when...

the sound of flesh ripping, and a piercing, glitchy scream, could be heard. 

The alternate broke down into tears, reaching to grab its arm despite the horrific pain in both of them, only to feel nothing there. The alternate gasped, shocked, as it proceeded to break down, freezing up and hyperventilate-crying, trembling violently like a leaf. The two hellhounds began to giggle, upsetting the alternate more. It began to wheeze in fear and pain, almost too tired to do anything, even cry. 

[elpida]

"rhea- rhea for god sake can you just- rhea please just listen to me-" elias was keeping up, or trying to, not that she wanted to hear it... given that she was fighting to keep up with cade who elias was quite sure, would strangle him if he got the opportunity to right now. he was keeping a little distance, trying to warn her to hang back a bit, don't go charging in at the front like cade did, and part of him felt so.. incredibly guilty that it was aiyla that'd been taken, and not him.

"i couldn't give a rats ass if i get hurt or if she'd gonna be mad at me for it, i don't. i'm getting her back." he almost growled the words, it wasn't even that he was angry at rhea he was just... angry. aiyla was his calm, she made him feel grounded, and all he'd wanted to do was make her a safe haven to live comfortably, how did that safety look now? she'd never just leave, she'd never go like that. cade knew that, it's why he couldn't rest, couldn't stop, just charging on and he'd not rest until he knew she was truly safe.

"i told her, that it's her and me. me and her. i meant that, every part of it. if it 'aint me and her, i don't want it rhea. that's how serious i am, so whether i get hurt? whether they hurt me? that don't matter, 'coz goddamn whoever took her can lay their hands to my skin, they can hurt me but if they've so much as laid harm to a single hair on her head.." his hands flexed, the muscles squeezing against his own skin, his knuckles white, nostrils flared and you could see it in his bones, the fury. cade was out for blood. usually he'd have gone at elias first, told him that he should've made sure she was safe, that she came far before him but.... all he wanted was aiyla, home and safe, sleeping in bed beside him, the softness of her breath. it never even crossed his mind to correct rhea that she'd called aiyla his wife, everything about her saying it felt... right. it should be that, and he should have told her... months ago.

she found a lot of appreciation in the silent company asher offered, far different from silas... and yet here she was, missing the way he'd whisper and yap. it used to grate her, right down to the bone and yet now the lull of his voice had become a comfort. part of her hated that, comfort, what a weakness.. but it was the greatest weakness that she held dear. if she asked, she wondered if he'd just talk at her for hours and if he'd let her sit and listen until the end of time, that'd be fine with her.

at the crunch and noises in front, the quite murmur of voices, eris was already reaching for her gun when asher made the gesture. she lifted her gun up to show him, making a small nod. they had thier bags stuffed to the brim with medication. as much as they could take back.. so there would be no trading, there'd be no pleasant exchanged if they tried to bicker or barter. that is what eris' look was telling asher. that if it came down to it, they protect what they need first because above all else, as eris now mouthed.. 'she needs this medication.'

the safety was off, her gun raised and aimed as she moved through the greenery and toward the voices that only grew with more clarity. someone was angry, someone was pleading and another almost sounded to be reasoning. "hands up. move and we won't hesitate to shoot. who are you. what are you doing here and who are you looking for." her tone was as cut throat as usual, her questions demanding answers. "you." the gun moved to lock on to rhea. "i want to hear it from you."

she watched the male slightly behind her move to go forward and she knew asher would be there, ready with his own weapon though it was the next remark from the other male that amused her. "you 'aint got shit in that gun, no live ammo." he scoffed and eris smirked, wickedly, like the devil stepped into her shoes. "make another move that isn't answering my questions and you'll find out about how live the ammo is, look for yourself, safety is off, i'm not playing. now the girl can answer, who you are, what you're doing here and who are you looking for. now. thirty seconds before i shoot." quietly, she thought her and asher made a good team, intimidating at leeast.

closed starter for @elpida

"cade, slow down," the woman pants, legs trying to keep up with his significantly longer strides ( once again waving away elias' attempt to speak with her ). part of her had wanted to laugh when the three of them had pieced together what had happened to aiyla. ironic, that the woman elias had seemed to follow around like he'd once done to her had deceived them and done god knows what to the other member of their little family. and while cade had seemed to sink into some sort of rage, she'd pointed fingers of blame right at elias ⸻ accusing that if he hadn't felt the need to flirt so much, he might have seen through the rouse sooner.

it had all left a bitter taste in her mouth, and was perhaps the reason she'd jumped to follow after cade when he'd made it clear he was going after aiyla. for a while, they'd traveled by car before continuing on foot, and it was then rhea had begun to struggle. "what even is the plan?" she questions with a frown, picking up her pace in hopes of walking side-by-side with cade. "i mean, we have a plan, don't we? what if there's a lot of them?" they had weapons, but were they really going to do something so drastic? "i know she's your wife and you'll do anything to get her back or whatever, but you know she'll be livid if you end up getting yourself hurt in the process, right?"

the concern of medication for eris running out had been a growing concern with each passing day, and while he'd not liked the idea of leaving her alone with the children and silas, it had ended up being necessary. the clinic they needed to go through was undoubtedly in a hot-spot for the beasts that now roamed the earth and he'd reluctantly departed from those he'd begun to consider family to venture off with eris. he'd never admit it, but it had been beneficial on more than one front. they'd been successful in finding a fair amount of the medication eden would need ⸻ enough to leave them comfortable for some time. that, and he'd come to appreciate eris ⸻ the initial suspicion he'd felt toward the woman wearing away in the hours and days they'd been alone.

neither of them were particularly chatty individuals ; the occasional word being exchanged in favor of verifying direction. it'd been a quiet handful of hours ⸻ only to be abruptly broken up by the sound of drifting voices and crunching of feet. whoever is ahead of them was not making much effort in being quiet. shifting his gaze toward eris, a brow arches, silently asking what she'd like to do about this.

[booksarelife-stuff]

Lily Enchanted-Chapter 1

Lily of the Valley was given a gift of obedience. In her adulthood, she’s on a quest to have the gift taken away… and maybe save her Prince and kingdom as well.

An Ella Enchanted AU.

Relationships: James Potter/Lily Evans

Word Count: 1,645

Read on Ao3     Next Chapter     Series Masterlist     Masterlist

At six years old, Lily was all smiles as she maneuvered her doll around. In her head was a fantasy that her doll was fighting a mean dragon to get to its hoard of gold to help the people back in her small village. All around her were the other children in her small school, chasing each other with squeals of delight.

Her epic battle was interrupted by a young boy with long black hair that was greasy and never had anyone talk to him since he was new to the school unless they were throwing insults at him. He was just walking past her when a loud voice crashed the fantasy around her.

“Why don't you go back to whatever cave you crawled out of!” The pale blonde schoolyard bully Lucius Malfoy called out towards the boy.

Lily threw down her doll and stood up.

“Stop being mean to him!” she yelled back. The boy sneered.

“Oh, bite me!” Malfoy spat.

She had no choice in the matter, as she marched towards him, grabbed the boy’s pale arm, and bit down hard.

The boy cried and pushed Lily away. The school teacher seemed to be paying attention and grabbed Lily by the arm and ordered her to write 100 lines.

When school was out, Lily started down the lane, her small brown boots crunching on the rocks. She had no issues with what she had done, despite the aching in her hand from handwriting the lines. After all, it was Malfoy brat who told her to bite him.

She felt a small tap on her shoulders. Lily stopped and turned, coming face to face with the greasy boy from earlier.

“I wanted to say thank you,” he said, his dark brown eyes watery. “For earlier.”

Lily smiled. “It’s no problem. Malfoy is just a bully.”

They started down the lane together and Lily found she liked having a friend next to her.

~~~

At eight years old, Lily grabbed onto her mother’s clammy hand, and as she took breaths that rattled her chest. Minerva stood on the other side of the bed and carefully pressed a cool wet cloth to her mother’s head.

Violet turned her green eyes to her daughter. The mother was scared. Not of her impending death, but how her daughter was going to navigate this world with little to no free will.

Violet knew how stubborn Lily was. How opinionated she could be, even at eight years old. But all it would take is for the one wrong person to find out about her gift. One wrong person and could ruin Lily’s life. And she didn’t even know.

“Lily,” Violet spoke, her voice raspy. Lily perked up from her stool and squeezed her mother’s hand. “You have a gift.”

Lily’s brow furrowed and the frown tugged on her lips.

“A gift?”

“When you were born,” Minerva piped up. “A wizard came and gave you a gift.”

“Obedience,” Violet rasped. Minerva’s lips pinched and nodded.

“You have to do whatever someone says,” Minerva finished.

“I don’t believe you,” Lily said. “No one has to do everything they tell them.”

“Throw your doll on the ground,” Minerva said.

It was the first time Lily noticed the little jump that seemed to happen when someone gave her a command. Her left hand grabbed the doll from under her arm and tossed it to the ground. It was like she had no control over her limbs.

Lily looked up at her mother and governess in fright. Violet looked so sad and Minerva looked like she was trying not to blow up in anger.

“You must never tell anyone of your gift,” Violet said. “Only Minerva and I know. Not even your father or sister.”

Violet started coughing and Minerva went to help her, but Violet waved her away.

“The necklace, Minerva,” Violet rasped once the coughing had stopped.

Minerva reached into the bedside table and pulled out a silver chain with a heavy heart-shaped locket attached to it. Violet took it in her hand and then handed it to Lily.

“No matter what anyone says or tells you to do, look to yourself, Lily,” Violet said as the locket was placed in the child’s hands. “What’s inside of you is stronger than any spell. And I will always be with you.”

~~~

She’s 18 when her father dies and Petunia, her insufferable husband, and his little sister move into the family home. Petunia had married shortly before Lily’s mother’s death. Lily had seen her sister only a handful of times until their father passed. Lily was handed to Petunia’s husband as a ward, along with the family cottage and all the possessions in it.

Lily watches with her arms crossed as Vernon Dursley starts yelling about how ugly the cottage is.

“Your father always took such pride in his home, but look at it!” Vernon says as the footman started bringing in their luggage from their carriage. “Positively medieval.”

“I cannot believe you grew up in this kind of squalor, Petunia,” Marge said, frowning at the antique vase by the hearth, her little dog yapping by her feet.

“It’s bigger than what you had,” Lily mumbled under her breath. Minerva, who was behind her, squeezed her shoulder. Whether to silently reprimand or in support, Lily didn’t know.

“Lily,” Petunia snapped as she pulled her gloves off her fingers. “Show Marge to her room.”

Lily felt the jump happen and her feet started moving of their own accord. She tried to dig her heels in because if the cottage was so small, Marge should have no issue finding her own damn bedroom, but her feet kept moving.

“Take one of her bags, too,” Petunia called, causing Lily to lurch in the opposite direction and grab a luggage case that was far too heavy for her.

It didn’t matter that Lily’s arms were screaming in pain at the weight. She had tears in her eyes as carried it up the steps to the upstairs room across from her own. She dropped the luggage the second she was on the threshold of the room and let out a little noise of relief.

Marge stepped in behind her, pushing Lily forward, almost falling over because of the suitcase. Marge made a tsk-ing noise as she looked around the room, putting the small dog she held in her arms.

“It’s so small,” she said, frowning at the space in her room. “Is that the wardrobe? It’s tiny! I won’t be able to fit my summer gowns, let alone for every season!”

Lily rolled her eyes as Marge turned around. She eyed the blank walls of the room with a scowl on her face. “I suppose once I put my pictures of Prince James up, it’ll feel more like home.”

Lily tried not to make a face at the mention of the absent prince, but Marge still noticed it.

“Not a fan of the royal family?” Marge asked, her eyes narrowed towards Lily. The little dog decided to let out a pathetic growl.

She wasn’t. Especially the Prince. He had been away at the boarding school for the last five years but was still somehow on the cover of every paper and magazine here while the King reagent, Riddle, started segregating all of the communities in the kingdom of Hogwarts.

How could she be a fan of Prince James when he was complacent in all of that?

“Not really,” Lily answered politely, not willing to elaborate. If Vernon was her caregiver then Lily could make an accurate guess at what Marge felt about the discrimination.

Marge turned away, once again assessing the room.

“I’m the president of the prince’s fan club,” Marge said, proudly. Lily almost laughed out loud.

Having had enough, she went to turn out of the room but was stopped by Marge.

“Show me your room,” she demanded.

The jump happened and suddenly Lily was leading Marge to her room across the hall.

Lily’s room wasn’t any bigger than Marge’s. Lily had her small bed pushed to one side against the wall to make more room. There was a small writing desk and chair that she used to write letters to Sev when they weren’t in school. Marge looked at her wardrobe in the corner of the room.

“Can I use your wardrobe as well?” Marge asked, stocking across the room to run her hand over the door.

Lily rolled her eyes at the audacity of her request. “No,” she said. “I need it for my clothes.” Marge let out a tiny whine and opened the closet, peering at the few dresses Lily had hanging up. “There is more than enough room in here for me to put my summer dresses up. Let me have your closet.”

The jump once again. “Okay,” Lily said, the words leaving her mouth without her consent. Lily then swore under her breath.

Marge looked at Lily in surprise but shrugged it off. She continued her inspection of the room, scowling constantly at Lily’s things. She made a particularly nasty face at the stack of books Lily had on her bedside table.

She finally turned her gaze towards Lily, eyeing her up and down like she was a stain. Her eyes caught on the heart-shaped locket that was against her collar bone.

“Pretty necklace,” Marge said, stepping closer.

Lily’s heart twisted as she closed in, knowing the route this was about to go. Lily crossed her arms defensively.

“Thank you,” Lily said. “It was my mothers.”

“Give it to me,” Marge said, her watery blue eyes looking at Lily.

Lily’s hand reached up and snapped the necklace off, handing it to Marge.

Marge took the necklace in her pudgy hand, her eyes a bit too knowing.

[spookyplantwitch]

The snow was getting heavier now, swirling down in great flurries of mass white. I watched as a single snow flake fluttered and twirled down, flying in all directions before finally coming to settle on the already 20cm thick snow covering the ground. I took a few crunchy steps forward and looked behind at the deep footprints I'd left. I watched as the snow floated purposefully into the foot-shaped imprints, already beginning to refill them. I turned my attention back to what lay in front of me. The street was empty, still immersed in the darkness that came before school. It was 7:30am and I knew the street wouldn't stay empty for much longer. The leafless trees that dotted the edge of the street creaked and groaned under the weight of snow that lay so innocently upon their branches. I heard a noise behind me, making me jump. I turned around to see a cat darting through the snow, looking nervously at the falling flakes. Its underneath was completely white. It looked as though it had been lying in the snow, but upon closer inspection, realized it was simply naturally coloured fur. Light began to creep slowly into the sky, reflecting off the snow and making it glisten with a blinding whiteness. Slowly, the street came to life. I heard dogs echoing barks, followed by answering, excited yaps. Excited shouts as people realized there was no school or work and there was a winter wonderland waiting for them, untouched. Birds' fluttered, startled form their perches high up in the snowy branches as children ran from their houses, shouting excitedly as they hastily pulled on scarves and coats and yelled hurried goodbyes to their parents. They slipped and slid down the road, dragging sledges and excited dogs on leads. The soft snow that had lain so untouched and perfect on the pavement's just minutes ago was hurriedly becoming hard, packed ice, dangerously slippy.

 

 

 

"I feel a bit trapped," I whispered.

The snow began to fall again. White flakes flowing downward from Heaven, kissing the window every so often to melt and slither down the pane. The whiteness coated the hills like a rolling ocean hitting the shore. I wanted to be outside.

To feel that powder on bare hands, watching it melt. To look up at the sky and see its deep and stark blue color.

To look up at glisening trees with diamond ice hanging off of dead branches.

But I am stuck inside with a busted arm, always watching.

 

I hear the satisfying crunch as I wade cautiously throught the falling snow. My eyes dart side to side, following every beautiful flake with sheer indulgence. I hold out a shivering hand to embrace the white with warmth, generously offering my services to melt them into raindrops on my hand.

The first snowfall is always something to crave. Before it you'll get a few freezing rain spells with a hint of snow, or frost left over. But only the first snowfall gives you the opportunity to dig your flesh into it's chilling heat. The first snow fall is deep, pure with hidden intentions to freeze your bones.

I stood in the middle of the street gazing, just gazing.

 

 

I'm trying to think of some beautiful way to tell you just how I feel, in this pit I call my heart, but how do you tell someone that you'd fight for them?

There's something about our friendship that kills me, but how could I ever tell you that? I don't like love, I've never believed in it, but there's something tugging at my veins and ripping at my arteries and stirring my heart into pump pump pumping and it's not something I've ever felt before. It hurts. And I know the cliche, that love hurts, but still, I never thought it would be a literal pain in my throat. I'm holding back all the words I want to say, and it's making my throat scratch and my head spin.

I think I have the whole world figured out, though, and I think I can feel it breathing in the palm of my hand. There's a pain in me and a rush in my blood and a blush in my cheeks and this might just be the right thing. I think I have you figured out, and I think I can hear you breathing even when you're not around, and I think this says all I need to know about myself. So I make a decision and I see the chance hovering between my eye and my eyelids, and I'm reaching out and grabbing it. Hello, I say to the chance. It doesn't resist, and I take that as a sign as I walk to where I know you're waiting.

We sit together, in your apartment, and we watch the cabs and cars screech by and send mud and dreams and slush flying through the air and into the already muddy grass. You follow this with frustrated eyes and I watch you and I refrain from taking your hand in mine (and it hurts my knuckles, to stop myself so) and I see creases mark your pale forehead.

"It's Christmas Eve," you say, jarring the silence, your angry words stuttering their way into my ears. Your voice sounds waterlogged, sad and aching. "I think we deserve a little snow."

"I think you're right. Let's go."

Your eyes hold a doubt, but a spark, too, and so I trudge on, because that spark is my chance, and someone told me to grab chances with both hands, and to let them change my life. So we trek out into the cold and we shiver and don't talk much as we walk. It's cold but my blood is rushing, so damn fast, and you don't notice, and I wonder what you're thinking.

I like the peaceful silence we have settled into, and I don't ever want to rejoin the bustling, loud, noisy world. How do you tell someone that all you want is nothing, except to know they're happy?

We reach my dad's studio and I push my way through the door and you're following, silent, still, and confused, I can tell, and my veins and arteries are letting up on my heart, but it's still pump pump pumping, and this peace is alarming but calming, too.

"Is that - "

White falls all around us, and the rumble of the fan sounds like the wind in the trees and there's a softness in the light that looks like the moon. The old, tiny fireplace in the corner is roaring, flicking and sending warmth through me. Paper snowflakes hang from the ceiling.

"Snow," I supply, turning to watch your face. "Well, as close to snow as I could get, in a building."

"You made me a snowstorm?" Your eyes are hard, almost defensive,and your mouth is twisting and turning and I don't know how to respond. I don't know how you want me to respond, and that's really the crux of all this, isn't it? "Why?"

"Well, isn't that what you wanted?"

Your laughter breaks a long beat of quiet. "Yes! I just didn't know you'd take me so literally." I like the way your smile sends dimples into your cheeks and chin, and how your hair curls just where it hits your shoulders.

I haven't gained much ground, in this war against myself, if any at all, but I know that this is a step into getting there. I still don't know how to beautifully tell you I'd fight for you, always, but hopefully I'm on the road to figuring it out. We curl up on the blanket by the fire and we don't talk, we fall back into silence for a long time. And I like silence. It's loud and long and humming, like it's alive, like it's sitting here next to us, chatting to it's heart's content. There's something in silence that's more alive than I am, and I'm jealous of it's willingness to make itself known.

Your head is on my shoulder when you take my hand and say, "It's beautiful. Merry Christmas."