#hesitant alien save me

[patrickstumpsbbg]

the hesitant alien album always reminds me that my friend bought me a hesitant alien poster for me for Christmas and has YET to give it to me...

[sixftmp3]

sotd. ok im off now byyee

[saint-strawberry]

eat a good banh mi -> experience romantic rejection -> hesitant alien -> get back on h*nge

[prettyinpunk]

got this jacket that was like powder blue. way too light imo so i dyed it darker and its looking p good! going to turn it into an IOH project :]

i'll post updates if it goes well 🙏🏻

[goobersnoobert]

Hesitant alien Gerard, please save me

(I'm on a posting spree dont mind me)

[pseudowho]

Calamus et Gladius

(help me find the Higuruma artist in the banner, for crediting and thanks/permission!)

Stolen from a foreign army to participate in the Culling Game, speaking little to no Japanese with just a rifle for self-defence, the reader partakes in a bittersweet dance of death and love, with Higuruma Hiromi.

Warnings: 18+, MDNI, enemies to lovers, murder, use of firearms, the desperate smut of two traumatised people who fall hopelessly in love.

This is long, but I make no apologies, because the payoff is worth it.

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You were used to violence. You were used to senseless bloodshed. Used to rains of bullets, flinging shrapnel, your ears ringing with explosions and screams.

Yet, it was your own screams that rang through you, as an enormous gavel split the earth where you had just stood.

Your entire unit was dead, almost fifty men and women lured into Tokyo Colony One, and you scrabbled back on grazed hands, kicking feet, as this ink-haired monster stepped slowly through the rubble and gore, black eyes fixed on you with the rage and fervour of a justified killer.

He appeared to hesitate only briefly as your face crumpled up at him in tearful rage and despair, desperation. You did not move to grab the rifle on your back; a threat of retaliation would be your downfall.

Despite being the only one of your unit who had had something new, something alien awakened within them, you had developed no fantastical technique. You had no mystical weapon. You had no roiling blue flames engulfing your fists. You had only the ability to sense others like you, and the horrifying stop-motion beasts that now sullied your sight. It was enough, at least, to hide.

"Please-- please--" you begged, the last attempt of a cornered woman. Your back pressed against the wall, the wide street around you a no-man's land of rubble, overturned cars and bloody splatters. The man's hand tightened on his gavel, his other raising to swipe flicks of black fringe off his forehead. He frowned, stopping. You noticed his distinctive hooked nose, crinkling in disgust.

"English," he offered, thickly accented, neither a question or a statement. You gulped, nodding with urgency, any dialogue an opportunity to re-establish his humanity.

"Innocent," you insisted, hands raised in front of you, disarming, "I'm innocent." That word, the man seemed to recognise, and he blew air through his nose, snorting in mirth.

"Innocent?" He asked, sarcastic.

He knelt down in front of you, his eyes still offering no mercy, but he spoke to you so conversationally. He reached one long finger out, tapping the rifle on your back, coming back round to stroke you teasingly along the side of your cheek, holding it so tenderly. His words washed over you, meaningless, until you caught one you could understand as he stood up.

"...sorry." His arm raised, the head of the gavel blocking out the sun, and you took your chance.

Your hand darted, and you flung a handful of brick dust into his eyes as he spat, staggered, cursing. You brought the butt of your rifle round to slam into the side of his head, and although he barely faltered, you ran for your life, darting down alleys, your heart bursting in your ears.

You heard no footsteps chasing you. He could have...but he didn't.

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Just one easy kill.

The others had all gone down so hard, Hiromi thought, stepping into his swing, barely missing the foreign woman, the gavel making a buckled crater in the tarmac instead. Hiromi tsked, annoyed, kissing his teeth. Watching her squirm on the floor to save her life, a worm from a bird, Hiromi's gut churned-- ugly.

Murder was so easy. The power to beat scum at their own game was intoxicating. Hiromi stepped after her, so far removed from his old self. His usual self? He wasn't sure.

His keen eyes built the woman's character, hawkish and unforgiving. Young...naive. Soldier...killer. No Japanese...lazy. Pleading...pathetic. Not fighting...coward. By the time she began to beg Hiromi, she was already barely human in his eyes. Swiping his hair upwards, and tightening his grip for the deathblow, he spat, "English."

She caught his eye, and Hiromi felt the barest seed of guilt in the back of his mind, an itch he could not scratch. She had nodded at him, tears brimming in her eyes, hands raised in placation.

"Innocent," the woman had insisted, "...innocent." Bile rose in Hiromi's throat at the familiar word, and the audacity she had to use it for herself, as if she wasn't rolling in the same pigshit as the rest of them. Hiromi's lip curled, smirking as he rubbed his nose with the side of one long finger.

"Innocent?" He stabbed. Hiromi knelt, talking at you as if you understood.

"What's that? You're the good guy, are you?" He mocked, reaching out to tap the rifle on your back, feeling you flinch beneath him, "Is it this, that makes you innocent, hmm?" He brought his hand to your cheek, stroking it with the blade of his finger, swiping away the tears that had cut a track through the dust and grime, "Or this pretty face, hmmm? Are those big, teary eyes what make you innocent? Don't make me laugh. You're scum, just like the rest of us. And natural law is at play here." He cupped your cheek once, squeezing it with the barest of sincerities in his apology as he stood.

"Sorry," Hiromi offered, lifting his gavel and feeling power churn through him, just and righteous as your executioner.

Hiromi cursed as he felt a spray of grit flung into his face, immediately disarmed by the sordid pain of sand in his eyes, further disorientated by the ear-ringing slam of something into the side of his head. He staggered, faltering.

"Oooh, you piece of shit," Hiromi cooed, vicious, spitting with venom, vision completely obscured as he tried in vain to clear his eyes. He felt you disappear, and he leaned against the wall, laughing despite himself at having been bested. He smiled, the barest tinge of admiration for your tenacity threading through him.

"Alright," Hiromi sniffed, rubbing his nose again as his vision began to clear, "catch you later, I suppose."

Hiromi tried to forget you. He tried to forget his humanity, but each life he took made him sicker, infected by this game.

Every time he closed his eyes, to sleep in some strange home-less, love-less bed, your eyes met his, impeaching him.

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Resources soon ran thin, for one who held no territory. You had your army pack, and rationed out your meagre foodstuffs, always hungry, always on-edge. You had never fought alone, in war.

You had managed to develop quite the skill at hiding, and concealed yourself, cloaked in plain sight, from even the most powerful of those left in the game. Every day that the stragglers were picked off, the stakes ran higher. Every explosive battle you ran from, dodging the falling debris thrown by titans, you felt your inherent value as an easy kill increasing.

You thought of the hook-nosed man who had let you go. Despite his willingness to kill you, you craved human contact, and found warmth in the memory of the heat of his gaze, his hand on your face, desperately trying to translate the words he had spoken to you as he caressed your cheek.

One dewy dawn, you had taken position on a sheltered rooftop, giving you equal measures concealment and oversight. With your rifle drawn, flat on your belly, you felt the ebbs and wanes of a familiar power draw closer. Curiously, it made your belly clench, eager to see the man who could have chased you, but didn't. You were itching to know why. Itching to behold him again.

Your heart leapt as he stepped into the street, at least four stories below you. Even from this distance, you could see the intensity of his furrowed brow, the noble bearing of his shoulders beneath a great black overcoat. His tie hung, dishevelled, loose-knotted. He was hunting.

He paused, tiptoed on a breath...before rolling, gracefully dodging as a knife of Cursed energy ricocheted through the street, splitting it. You gasped, your eye moving away from your rifle lens, watching in awe as he took to battle with another man. While he seemed to hold his own, he appeared distracted, and was buffeted, winded by an almighty hit, knocked onto his back, elbows on the ground.

A strange panic overtook you as your hook-nosed man's assailant bore down on him, power surging, preparing to murder--

-- a gunshot. A brittle, echoing bang. The assailant's head snapped forwards, and he fell, killed instantly, face first on the ground in front of your hook-nosed man.

He panted, his face sprayed with blood. With a few owlish blinks, his eyes tracked upwards. You held your breath, adrenaline coursing through you. As the man stood, eyes fixed on you (in rage? murderous intent? thanks?), you jolted to life and took aim on him.

He did not raise his hands. There was no standoff, as he made no move to save his own life. In the moment that he accepted his death for the attempt he had made on yours, something in you both softened, seeing each other as you saw no others. A gentle impasse. The intimacy of differentiation.

It took everything you had in you to break eye contact, and run.

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Hiromi mulled beneath the shaky warning of your rifle.

You were afraid, he thought as he gazed up at you, so sickeningly grateful for having been chosen by you. The mist of his opponent's blood drifting through the sunrise, picked Hiromi out as somehow preferable, in your mind.

And, why should you not be afraid? He saw you beneath him, again, your eyes soft and begging him for mercy. You had been defenceless and entirely in his palm. He had been relieved, he recalled, that he could kill someone easily. The begging made you passive. Hiromi could have vomitted, sickened by himself.

He stood, arms raised slightly to his sides, his profile illuminated by sweet morning sun, waiting for death to take his hand.

Hiromi felt embraced by your eyes. Wanted. Some companionship, in death...until you refused him his end. The red string between you both seemed to snap as you broke eye contact and ran.

Alone, as the sun broke above the skyline, Hiromi whispered; "Thank you."

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There was no way out. Starving and desperate, days had passed since you had saved your hook-nosed man, and you had crept through haunted streets to a convenience store, unusually well-stocked with food and drink.

You bit your tongue for your own stupidity at having walked into such an obvious trap. No amount of being able to hide one's Cursed energy could compensate for being seen walking into the shop. Crouching now, behind shelves of ramen, tears trembled on your lashes, an aching lump in your throat.

You heard a mocking voice, cooing at you, laughing at you, and you blushed with indignant tearful injustice, not needing language to know when you were being assaulted for your sex. You were afraid of death. You were more afraid of being used beforehand.

With nowhere to hide, and no grit to throw, you tipped your head back and thought of those black embering eyes, holding you in his gaze.

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"Are you hungry?" The voice chirped, teasing, mean, "Come out, baby. I've got something here in my pocket you can taste." A filthy laugh. Slow, easy footsteps. Willing to rape you before he killed you. Hiromi felt himself burn with fury, ready to wring this man's neck with his own two hands.

Hiromi walked the streets easily, now. His power had come on in leaps and bounds, and he both trusted in his own abilities, and feared nothing of death. Not since you had held his life in your hands, and thrown it straight back in his face.

He was a disordered eater at the best of times, but, a sudden faintness from hunger sent him seeking food. Hiromi knew some dirty little spider had built a web at an abandoned store, and did not fear a man who sought to ensnare the desperate.

Let him try me, thought Hiromi as he approached, lit by the sickly orange glow of streetlights, and see where it gets him.

Just a few steps from the entrance, Hiromi paused mid-step, his heart hiccuping in his chest. It was you. Inside the store, your Cursed energy faltering and so overwhelmed by that of the spider. Hiromi's lips parted, to call for you, a hand in the dark. He stopped, gritting his teeth. No-- this would not do, he thought, as he began a hunt of his own.

The spider was so obviously distracted by excitement, thrilled to find a woman in his dirty little trap. He had found you, by the time Hiromi reached you, in time to see you flung, body smashing against the counter, curling and coughing. Hiromi stepped behind the spider, seething, overburdened with terrible strength.

You had looked up in time to see your hook-nosed man wind an arm round your assailant's neck, throttling him, dragging him backwards out of the store. The hook-nosed man's face was twisted, ugly with rage...and for what? For you?

If your Cursed-energy had been no match for that of your assailant, his was dwarfed by that of your rescuer. Still coughing, doubled over on your hands and knees, you crawled to the entrance, watching the streetlights flicker above your hook-nosed man as he choked the life out of your assailant, merciless in his conviction.

You knelt there, drinking in his profile, in that sickly orange glow. His sharply squared jaw. His black overcoat, shrouding him like Death itself. Panting and cursing as his arms shook, your assailant fighting weakly beneath him. Choking the life out of a man, a murder most intimate. For you. Killing, with his bare hands-- for you.

Time hung in suspended animation in these small hours. Your rescuer sighed, the tension releasing from his shoulders as he knelt back on his haunches. He appeared devoid of guilt, at having carried out his sentencing. Slowly, as if fearful of what he would see in your eyes, he turned to you, kneeling in the doorway of the shop.

Your eyes met. You studied each other in silence. He had a way of making you transparent. You had a way of making him exposed. His panting slowed, palms flush to his thighs, offering you a cautious smile, as your eyes glimmered in the dark.

"English," he spoke, by way of greeting.

"Nose," you returned. He frowned, uncertain.

"N..?"

You reached up to stroke your nose, and repeated, with a smile; "Nose."

His hand reached up to mirror yours, realising, and he burst into laughter, rich and genuine. You blushed, burying your face in your hands as he continued to laugh. He wiped his eyes, fingering the hook in his nose again, looking at you with those deep embering eyes that wholly undressed you.

"Nose," he repeated, chuckling, "Subarashī." Your bit your lip in mirth, looking anywhere but at him as he tried to catch your eye again, mischief twinkling in his.

Hiromi stood, stretching his shoulders back with a husky groan, tipping his neck from side to side. He stepped over to you, and you felt, ridiculously, so teenagerish as the odd duality of your hook-nosed man made your belly twist. You saw a long-fingered hand enter your line of sight. You looked at it questioningly. The fingers wiggled in invitation.

With a shaking hand, you took his. He pulled you up and smiled at you, swinging your hand briefly in his before releasing it, waiting for you to step into the shop before he followed. You browsed for food, as if Saturday-Night-Snack-Hunting as a couple, in safe silence.

Shivering as the adrenaline wore off, your stomach clenched with terrified nausea to hear explosions, shouts, drawing ever nearer in the street outside. Your hook-nosed man looked up, hangdog eyes wide, flicking from you, to the street, and back again. He gritted his teeth, bundling packets of food into the pockets of his overcoat.

You found yourself manhandled, his heavy coat suddenly on you. Your rescuer's hands moved deftly, smoothing the coat across your shoulders, searching for words, irritated by his intelligence in one language and his stupidity in another.

"Cold-- hungry-- go," Hiromi pressed in broken English, spinning you as you protested, urging you through the back door. You turned in the doorway, your eyes begging him to...what? To go with you? There was no time, no time--

Hiromi materialised his gavel, and crouched, snarling at you: "GO!" He roared, steeped in regret as you sprinted away, guarding your life like a child.

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Your hook-nosed man began to leave you breadcrumbs; tickets to safe havens, food, shelter, beds. You felt the vestiges of his Cursed-energy wherever you followed his trail, haunted by the path of devastation he left to build you sanctuaries.

Your dialogue budded, and combined with his notes and signs, you began to learn more about him. His notes, secreted away in scrawled English, street signs flipped to point in alternate directions, and crude maps drawn on dust-caked windows, all added colour and life to him.

Hiromi took a little joy, his cold heart popping to life, at the little hearts you drew in the dust; signs of acknowledgement, a tiny thrill.

You found yourself drawn to a bookstore, and scoured the shelves, looking for a particular something, a matching pair. You found hints of him in the pockets of the hook-nosed man's overcoat; a business card, in Japanese. A handkerchief, curiously embroidered with two gold initials-- H.H. A set of housekeys with a key-finder fob. A pair of chewed pens. You still thought of him as "Nose".

Hiromi still thought of you as "English", as he caught himself differentiating you from the others. Still steeped in this depression, this black-dog-misery and ugliness, he saw you, a light in the dark, who hid yourself to protect yourself as well as others, from needless violence.

They were all ugly...except, perhaps, for you.

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You sighed as you slipped into the hot bath, water up to your chin in the great, deep basin of this luxury hotel. You were impressed there was still a hot water supply, and you felt a gleeful coil of naughtiness, knowing you would never usually be able to afford to stay in such opulence, all marble tiles and gold taps.

Fighting for survival did not negate the fundamental craving for little joys, and you took advantage of the selection of complimentary soaps, scouring yourself free of grime with happy hums. You sang to yourself, quiet in the evening hush, just you and your languid splishing--

-- oh. A cautious approach. A familiar power. You clasped the lip of the bath, sinking your body under the water.

"...hello? Nose?" You called out. You heard the click of a lock, quick feet stepping in, locking the door behind him. A single held breath.

"...English?"

You blushed, pressing your lips to your knuckles, white from how tightly you gripped the bath. Hiromi's cheeks prickled faintly, hearing soft splashes from the bathroom, seeing your clothes discarded over the bed, your rifle leaning against it. You cleared your throat, wanting to talk, not knowing where to start.

"Mhm." Hiromi smiled at your little squeak, sitting with a groan and creaking knees, his back against the wall beside the bathroom door. Separated by this thin wall, he reached a hand around the doorway behind him. You giggled to see his long fingered hand offer you a jaunty wave.

"Konbanwa, English," he offered. He jolted to feel your little hand, warm and wet, squeeze his. His thumb grazed over your knuckles, smooth, examining, probing in a way that made your belly tight. You reluctantly released his fingers, humming in thought as you reached out of the bath into your backpack, searching for something.

Momentarily, Hiromi felt something gently tap the side of his head around the bathroom door, and he giggled, a noise which made you paddle your feet in delight. He reached up, taking a Japanese-English dictionary and phrasebook from your hand.

"Ahhhhh!" Hiromi hummed, genuinely thrilled, "Yoi aidea." He skimmed through the book, hunting again, and you paused, listening.

"Good idea!" He stated, confident, and he squirmed to hear you laugh at his janky pronunciation. Hiromi wanted so dearly to see you, to know you were uninjured, and instead scoured his little book again.

"Hurt?" He asked you. You softened, responding automatically.

"Ah...no, I'm...hmm," you flipped through your own book, "...uhm...daijōbu desu?"

Hiromi hummed, satisfied. You talked this way, for some time, gently brushing the outskirts of each others' language and personality. Hiromi corrected you. You corrected him. The bath grew cold. The light began to die behind the windows, casting you both in deep shadow and amber glow.

At some point, in the conversation, your hands had trailed together again. Hiromi now leaned sideways against the wall, his cheek pressed against it, eyes closed as his fingertips grazed the inside of your wrist.

You lay in the bath, shivering, feeling your heartbeat between your legs from such an innocent, intimate touch-- except, it did not feel innocent in intent. Perhaps, that was what made you squirm.

"Stay safe," Hiromi whispered to you, his fingers drawing circles on your palm, his next word crumpling your face with barely restrained tears, "Afraid."

Hiromi bit his lip in anguish, eyes squeezed shut to see you in his mind's eye, so desperately touch-starved as you pressed a kiss to his palm. He felt your lips remain, nose ghosting against his pulse. He imagined those lips on his own, and he was filled with an anxious need to taste you, to lift you from the bath, wrap you up in the bed and his arms, safe.

Fully distracted by thoughts of you and your sweet cries beneath his body, Hiromi almost missed you holding out your book to him, pressed open at the start-- and a name, your name, written neatly on the page. You offered this, all the while wanting to step to him from the bath, and offer him the feel of those clever fingers, examining the rest of your body.

"Oh..." Hiromi whispered, reverent, squeezing your hand as he swiped his thumb over the faint imprint of your written name, repeating it aloud slowly. Hearing him speak your name, almost had you climbing out of the bath and into his lap. You closed your eyes, imagining him crying it out as he peaked, buried deeply inside you. You burned with the urgent need to know him.

Just a few seconds later, Hiromi's hand reached round the corner, offering his own book back to you, with his own name written in your own alphabet, jolted and square.

"Higuruma...Hiromi?" He hummed, happily.

"Hiromi," you repeated, and he hummed again, delighted by your name on his lips. You tucked your dictionary away, thrilled, reaching for a towel.

"It suits you. I love it." Hiromi understood just one word you had uttered, and it sent joy creeping down his spine. He pressed his forehead against the wall.

Pull yourself together, Hiromi, he thought, it's just loneliness and desperation. Nothing else. No amount of logic and self-chastisement stopped his mouth from moving independently of his mind, as he flicked through your dictionary, imbued with your name.

"Bed. Stay. Please." Silence. Hiromi pressed the corner of the dictionary to his head, cursing himself under his breath. Idiot, pathetic little moron, stupid--

"Yes."

Hiromi's stomach swooped, missing a step, hearing you climb out of the bath. You steeled yourself, blushing furiously, to wrap a towel around yourself and pad out to the bedroom. Hiromi turned his back to you, but not before seeing the graceful curve of your leg, the wet cleavage of your breasts, the towel barely skimming the tops of your thighs. He breathed slowly, clawing back his self-control as you dressed behind him.

A long, slow whistle, belonging to neither of you, broke the silence, and your blood ran with ice water.

Voices spoke, Hiromi spitting threats, in this language that still gatekept against your understanding.

You jacked sideways, still topless, seizing your rifle as Hiromi demolished the doorway with a single wide swing of his gavel. You heard laughter from the corridor, and you hurriedly pulled your top and Hiromi's overcoat on, fixing your rifle on your shoulder to take aim.

Hiromi backed up to you, wrapping one arm behind himself and around you, fingers splayed against the small of your back. You understood none of the venom spat between Hiromi and this hidden assailant.

Your nerves on a knife-edge, you sensed movement behind the shattered brickwork of the doorway, and fired, a deafening blow in this enclosed space. A spray of blood and an enraged shout through the drifting plaster-cloud saw you hit your mark, and Hiromi exclaimed, shocked and delighted, squeezing your waist.

"I've seen better shots than that from her, bastard" Hiromi warned, "and if you think she's easy prey, you've got both of us to take down."

"Hiromi," you gasped, hyperventilating, "Hiromi-- Hiromi--"

Silence through the room; Hiromi's ears rang. He pocketed your dictionary, and grasped your cheeks, eyes fixed to yours and wordlessly reassuring you as he turned you towards him from the doorway. You felt your heart bounding in your chest, hands loosening on your rifle as you drank him in, breathed the same air, panting, together--

--it was all too fast. Hiromi's eyes fixing behind you. His panicked shout. Being thrown sideways onto the bed, a glassy smash, a scream that may have been your own--

Hiromi and your hunter plummeted in an outward spray of glass, two inky blots fading into the night.

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You had searched so desperately. Nothing could assure you Hiromi was still alive. There were no breadcrumbs left in the dust; nil but blood, and so much of it, beneath the shattered hotel window, so many stories up.

You had run your hands through it, clotted with the rubble, needing to feel him within the grisly spill-- alas. Too many residuals passed over this land. Too many battles fought, too many lives spent and saved, for clairvoyance to be what repaired your fractured heart.

You steeled yourself. Adversity goaded you to try harder. To do better. You took to the hunt yourself. You amassed points from potshots, hidden in curious places to execute nasty little opportunists who sought dominion over the weak.

While you had had no experience of the Kogane-- the odd, winged shikigami which acted as an interface between the players and the game-- in your passive state, they now became regular visitors, updating you of your points total. You had assumed they could not speak your language-- you were wrong.

Witnessing, from afar, one day, another player asking Kogane a question, your stomach rolled with nausea and hope as you called the black-tailed beast to you.

"Kogane?" The creature appeared with a pop. Your mouth opened, and closed, faltering over your words.

"Kogane, is-- is Hiromi Higuruma a player in the game?"

Silence-- and an answer; "Higuruma Hiromi is a player in the game--"

All of the air left your lungs in an enormous gasp, a heaving cry of relief as you doubled over, your hands cupped over your mouth and nose, tears streaming down around your fingers, before the Kogane had even finished giving its report.

"Thank you-- th--thank you, Kogane," you sobbed, blinded by your own tears. This tiny demon, to whom manners meant nothing, hung impassively. It disappeared with a pop as you spun away, cloaked with conviction.

You turned on a pinhead, cocking your rifle ready, and stalked off through the ruins; all of your steeling wisped away like ashes, your heart on the battlefield, knowing your vulnerability was out there, alive.

You decided now, with a smile at the thought of those beetle-black eyes, to hunt not for business, but for pleasure.

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Hiromi felt the damp all the way to his bones, in these heavy, wet clothes, made heavier still by the excruciating weight of his crimes. The theatre door swung closed behind him, and he leaned his back against the wall, crouching, the palms of his heels pressing so hard into his eyes that he was blinded by lights.

He had fallen beyond salvation, and it gnawed at the rotten wood of him, eating him alive. Feeling his brain judder, his tie too tight, the walls too close, the silence too deafening, Hiromi tried to collect himself. He pressed his palms to his thighs and breathed; in through his nose one two three four five and out through his mouth one two three four five.

Feeling his heart rate slow, full of equal parts light and dark, Hiromi called out into the gloom, straightening slowly.

"Kogane." The creature appeared with a pop, waiting, patient. Hiromi spoke your name, and then, hesitant--

"...is she a player in the game?" A heartbeat. Two. Three.

"Confirmed--"

Hiromi did not hear the rest, buckling to his haunches with a primal cry of gratitude, and a few moments of dry sobs as his fingers raked through his hair. Chest heaving, he breathed again, one two three four five, one two three four five.

In the space taken for one breath, Hiromi decided not to find you. You, who had always chosen not to fight. You, whose pleading eyes still haunted him. You could not be sullied by his rot.

Hiromi stepped out into the night, a porcelain man checkered with cracks, seeking only to rebuild a world worthy of you.

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He's here.

Climbing the stairs, fine piano music rang distant, its notes bittersweet, cherries in kirsch. Your feet carried you unbidden and you ascended, the notes becoming sweeter, feeling him, closer, playing this Siren's song.

Stepping into the doorway of the skyline bar, he must have felt your approach. The lights were low, refracted through a hundred hanging glasses, a hundred under-lit bottles of vim and vigour. The room sprawled out in an expansive, long C-shape, and your heart stuttered to see Hiromi at the end, pale fingers moving across the piano, white-shirt-shoulders burdened by the weight of his song.

You felt him build in the music as you approached, each note demanding more of him, and more and more and more and more--

There was only the briefest hitch in the music, barely perceptible, as you slid onto the bench beside Hiromi. He did not look up, his mouth set in a grim line, his eyes pressed tightly shut.

Consumed by the need to feel his skin on yours, you reached out, your hand ghosting over his. In a flash, Hiromi's hand darted up to grab yours, fingers tangled, as his other hand continued to move, playing this bisected song. A few moments passed, this way, with Hiromi pressing his lips and nose to your knuckles, his face contorted, conflicted-- pained.

"Go," he whispered, breath fanning over your hand, "bad."

"I...I don't--...bad?" You turned towards him, to hold him, and he jerked, twitching away from you, and you felt your heart tug along with him.

"No. Me. I...am bad." You shook your head, more and more fervent as Hiromi twisted away from you, quietly cursing, husky, tortured. He tried to release your hand, and you refused, plaiting your fingers in his, steadfast in a way that filled him with an animalistic urge to appreciate you.

You turned from him, your other hand resting upon the high keys, pressing gentle, uncertain notes. Overwhelmed by your closeness, and your insistent faith in him, Hiromi softened to watch your profile, backlit from the liquid glow of the bar. Your small hand, moving softly over the keys. Your heart beating like butterfly wings in your throat.

"No. Not bad. Lost. Lonely. Sabishī."

Every moment of belief you handed him, pulled Hiromi closer to the light. Swallowing thickly, he brought your joined hands to the keys, laying his palm over the back of yours, overlaying your fingers with his own. He pressed, soft insistent touches, on your fingers, guiding them to play. You felt your belly coil with odd pleasure, captivated by Hiromi's hands, all at once gentle and rough, smart and instinctual--

"Hiromi--"

"No. Stop." Hiromi tensed, his voice rough, fraying alongside his self-control. His hand shook over your own, the notes stopping now. Heat burst through you, certain he felt it too, this dangerous need, and his name forced its way out of you again, a challenge.

"Hiro--"

Hiromi spat venom again, growling and cursing as he stood, lifting you by the waist, sitting you upon the keys with a spray of notes, his arms shaking as they pressed beside you, trapping you in. Nose to nose, his breath on your lips, his face twisted with fury and need, Hiromi whispered to you.

"Stop. My name--" Hiromi shook, on his last thread, half a step away from using you--

When your hand snaked to his tie, tugging him closer, your other hand sinking into the back of his hair, Hiromi snapped.

His lips pressed to yours, hot and hungry, his body closing the rest of the distance to be flush between your thighs. Your mouth opened to him, feeling his urgency as he drank down your stolen breath, one hand tilting your head back to consume you, the other dragging through the plush rolls of your belly and hips.

Every kiss was hot and anguished, punctuated by Hiromi's low rolling voice, not needing language to feel the fervour and vice on his lips-- "--won't be gentle-- I'm sorry I-- I can't--"

You insisted your understanding on him the only way you knew how; fingers working his tie off and draping it round your own neck, locking your legs around him to press his aching cock against your core, undoing his shirt in a desperate flurry, all notes and fingers and tongues and moans.

You tasted rum in his mouth, all spice and brown sugar, and his hand wandered to your throat, feeling your pulse there before tilting you backwards, arched against the hood of the piano. With your head rested back, he spoke to you, shirt now unbuttoned to his navel, cock straining against the material below a trail of black hair.

"--making a mistake to let a monster put his mouth on you, English-- let's see what sounds you can make." Your khaki t-shirt was pulled off over your head, where Hiromi let it catch around your hands, twisting it to bind you. Hiromi kept you gripped this way, leaning over you, caging you in as he gripped the cups of your bra between his teeth, yanking them down to free your breasts.

Hiromi shuddered and moaned, feeling a drop of pre-cum soak into his boxers, as he flattened his tongue over your nipple, rolling, tasting, pulling you between his lips, nuzzling from side to side like an animal. You mewled, jutting your hips involuntarily, and Hiromi pressed back, pleasuring you with rough, sharp thrusts against your clothed pussy.

Hiromi leaned back, releasing your nipple with a hard suck, gazing down at where he fucked himself against you, mesmerised by the way you shivered and humped against his cock. Unabashed, his words falling over you like strange-eyed constellations, Hiromi fucked you with his voice--

"--cum like this, and I'll give you my fingers...cum like that, and I'll give you my tongue-- fuck, I'll eat you alive, you fucking goddess--"

As Hiromi spoke, all twisted rage and growls, his hips slammed into you, spurred on by your squeaks and whimpers, gripping the fat of your hips to ram your core against him. The pleasure was brutal, all harsh fabric friction and Hiromi's unrestrained adoration, and you tried to hold yourself together as you were dragged to orgasm, your frantic hands pressing disjointed chords on the keys beneath you.

Hiromi wanted to, needed to cum like this, with you, knowing he'd be able to continue fucking you after until he collapsed in your arms from exhaustion. Pausing only briefly to reach into his boxers, and angle his angry, throbbing cock upwards so the bulbous tip pressed between his waistband and belly, Hiromi's eyes rolled back in unadulterated ecstasy as he continued to fuck you against him.

You were both close, having been unfinished even by yourselves for weeks, and Hiromi's eyes burned into yours, feral with the need for you to finish with him, feeling your thighs tense around him as you babbled, fully understanding your meaning behind the nonsense--

"--gonna cum-- please-- Hiromi-- harder--"

You pressed back against the piano, arching with a high-pitched cry as hot pleasure burst through you, from your deeply aching clit outwards, crackling through your fingers, all white-hot sparks and embers. Watching you convulse against him, angling his hips to rut his trapped cock tip, feeling his thighs and belly set alight with the force of his orgasm, his hands planted either side of you, back twitching as he came with a bark.

Still riding the last waves of your orgasm, you watched him in fascination. The sight of Hiromi's cum spurting in long, white ropes onto his navel and yours, his agonised, fractured gasps, had you humping against the underside of his cock again, dragging out your peak to hear him whimper, cock twitching against your core. Your hand drifted to his belly, stroking the cum between your fingertips in a blissful haze, squeezing a thumb under the foreskin of his exposed cockhead, stroking his slit with his own lubrication.

Hiromi convulsed and growled at you, clasping your hand against him, dopey and shaking as you drank his reaction from his eyes, thumb still circling his cockhead, slippery with his seed.

"St--st--aaaaahhh..." You shushed Hiromi's weak cries, grazing your tongue over his lips, delighted as he twitched in your hand, weak little spurts of cum oozing onto your fingers. Hiromi let you continue like this, for a few seconds, before wrenching your hand away, plaiting your fingers into his own and nuzzling into you furiously. His heart leapt to hear you giggle as he bit into you, still to desperate, everything still not enough to take away this pain and this filth and this misery--

His other hand wandered down, stroking down the rolls of your belly, pinching, nails grazing, digging in all the way to your belt, undoing it with military efficiency. Not bothering to undo the button, he yanked down the zip instead, giving him enough room to manoeuvre his hand between your skin and the fabric, shucking your underwear aside to cup the wet heat of your pussy in one long hand.

Dipping his hand out to collect the cum off your belly, he thrust his hand back inside against your pussy again, teeth gritted and bared as he drank down your reactions now. He was satisfied to see the playful glint in your eyes flicker, your eyebrows raised in shock and overstimulation, teeth sinking into your lip as he rubbed your clit roughly, cum-sticky fingers rubbing broad strokes side to side across it.

"--two can play at that game, sweetheart...feels good? More? Harder?" Hiromi pressed you, in these words you didn't understand, and laughed, darkly satisfied as you wiggled beneath his hands, one hand resting lightly on your throat as you tried in vain to scoot away from him, your breath releasing in airy whimpers.

"No answer?" Hiromi moved his fingers faster, harder, your pussy squelching with your mixed cum inside your trousers, feeling you writhe beneath them, "I'll decide for you then."

Hiromi urged your orgasm to build, faster and harder this time, teeth gritted as he dragged you to the edge, growling into you as his tongue flicked roughly over your nipple--

"--come on-- know you can do it-- I'll go as hard as you like, come on, good girl--ah, there-- good girrrrllll..." Hiromi softened his movements, fingers undulating against your pussy as he pulled another orgasm from you, moving one finger from your throat to dip into your mouth, shuddering as you sucked it around your cries and whimpers.

Hiromi felt his cock beginning to stir to life again, and he committed you to memory like this, draped over the piano, wet breasts heaving, his seed dripping down your belly, eyes glazed, body supple.

Another word, that he did know in English, slipped from him, as he dropped to his knees before you, worshiping at this otherworldly alter in the moonlight; "Beautiful."

You blushed, voice catching in your throat as Hiromi smiled up at you, soft and captive in his sincerity as he unbuttoned your trousers, easing them, with your underwear, gently to your ankles, and off. Feeling suddenly so exposed, so flawed, you squeezed your eyes shut. You felt Hiromi grip your ankle with such tenderness, pressing a long, languid kiss to the delicate bones on the inside.

"English," Hiromi called, beckoning you back to him. You shook your head, blushing, eyes still closed, and he insisted. "English, please--" your eyes opened, uncertain, and Hiromi hummed in satisfaction as he began to kiss his way up your inner legs, "--beautiful."

Sighing and leaning back, one arm over your eyes, your heart bursting with the oddity of having fallen in love like this, you felt safe behind your language barrier as you spoke without a filter; "Oh, Nose. I love you. I really do."

Hiromi paused, stunned and ecstatic, his lips still on your inner thigh. He shocked you both, at how quickly his grasp of your language had come along; "And I love you, English." Hiromi chuckled with genuine glee as you clapped your hands over your face, mortified. Hiromi nuzzled into you, wickedly playful, but soon overtaken by this violent urge again--

"And...I love--" you squealed as you felt Hiromi force your thighs apart, sinking his tongue and nose quickly between your folds, groaning as he tasted the heady mix of his and your cum around your clit. His cock, almost fully hard again, throbbed, tightening his waistband as the blood rushed to it again. Hiromi reached down, releasing his cock with a sigh.

He took his time, lifting your thighs over his shoulders as he lapped at you, dipping his tongue into your entrance, tasting you, teasing you. You leaned, watching him again, and he looked up at you, hooded eyes burning as he nuzzled his nose against your clit, and held his own cock in his hand, stroking slowly. You felt jolts of voyeuristic pleasure, watching him masturbate himself to the taste of you.

"I...I like that," you whispered to him, your hand moving down to graze your nails against his scalp. You watched Hiromi like pornography as he shuddered, his cock leaping in his hand, your eyes fixed intently on his hand gliding up and down his length as you felt your pleasure beginning to crescendo yet again.

"More, I--" you moved your hand in the air as if you were the one stroking Hiromi's cock, mimicking faster movements, "--faster, Hiromi." Hiromi hummed in understanding, groaning sandy little groans into your pussy now as his hand sped up, jacking himself off harder, feeling your pussy clench around nothing beneath his tongue as you watched him, your keening cries getting higher and higher until--

-- you came again, trembling with the fluttering soft pleasure of your third orgasm, thighs clamping around Hiromi's head as he sucked your clit gently between his lips. Hiromi panted, gripping the base of his cock, delaying his high, fingers wet with more pre-cum, desperate to drag you to the floor and finish using you.

Pulling his mouth away, his hands trembling on your thighs, Hiromi's face was unreadable as he looked at the floor. Standing, dishevelled and sweating, looking up at you with feral hunger, his cock still twitching in his hand, you could see the barest vestiges of Hiromi pleading you for permission, with those exquisite dark eyes--

All it took from you was a nod. Hiromi pounced, wiry arms deceptively strong as he lifted you, legs locked around his waist, nose nuzzling against yours, teeth nipping your lips with a rumble. Hiromi whispered his mother tongue against your mouth, reaching out one hand for his overcoat, and tossing it into the floor, before laying you on your front, sinking his teeth into your shoulder blade with bruising force.

"--you're beautiful, and you're good, and I don't deserve you-- fuck, I need you now, I--I need--"

Hiromi panted above you, barely restraining himself from slamming into you immediately as he looped an arm round your neck and chest, pulling you up and forcing your back to arch. Ghosting his nose over your ear, he whispered your name, making you shiver and squirm, certain you'd break unless you felt him inside you soon.

"Ready, English?" You trembled, nodding, head tipped back as his cock grazed against your slippery folds. One hand cupped your arse, stroking softly, before slapping, Hiromi captivated by its plush jiggle against his fingers, how you cried out, how your skin flushed so deliciously.

Not holding back, Hiromi slammed into you, one forearm planted to the floor while the other restrained you against him, cupping your breasts in one squeezing hand. He shook, cursing, his teeth in your shoulder, as he felt the tip of his cock kiss your gummy walls, feeling your pussy clench around him in shock.

Prone, hands clawing at his overcoat, Hiromi felt enormous inside you, so swollen and plush after waiting to be filled for so long. You whimpered, resting your head sideways against his clutching bicep, feeling the muscle tense and jump as he rammed into you at a relentless pace, still speaking husky reassurances to you in his native tongue.

"--rest, just-- keep still and let me hold you, I-- I can't slow down anymore--"

Feeling simultaneously used and protected, caged in like this for him to chase his own pleasure, your breath came in ragged gasps, both hands now clutching the forearm across your neck and chest, head swimming with the instinctively blissful fullness of his cock, tightly sleeved within you. You felt your belly jolt from the force of Hiromi's thrusts, and pressed up towards him, proud to hear him moan in response.

Hiromi fucked you with abandon, needing this release, needing to shed his sin and worthlessness, his heart leaping to feel you fall apart beneath him. His hips began to stutter, strength abandoning him as his orgasm approached, moaning deep breaking moans in your ear, nipping, holding your neck in his teeth.

His legs buckling beneath him, Hiromi cried out in bliss, his arm shaking around you, hips flush against your arse, cock twitching long, hot spurts of cum inside your walls, feeling you pulse around him, sucking him in. You revelled in the glorious feeling of him twitching deep inside you, your belly hot and clenching as his seed seeped out between your clenched thighs. Hiromi lay above you, panting, pressing soft kisses into your hair, using his arm to roll you sideways with him, covering you both with his overcoat.

With his arm beneath your head, the other lazily stroking the curve of your waist and hips, Hiromi laughed lazily behind you.

"You love me, English, hmm?" Hiromi laughed again as you clapped your hands to your face.

"Stop, Hiromi, stop--" you cried, blushing all the way to your toes as he squeezed you closer, "-- or I will shoot you." Hiromi lifted his head, peering mulishly at you, one eyebrow raised. You scowled, pointing to your gun, and then at him, and he gasped in mock horror.

"Ara ara," he rumbled, teasing you in alien words, "so violent when you're meant to be happy."

You remembered these sweet small hours the most, after the horrors that came. You remembered lying in each others' arms, sticky and teasing. You remembered sneaking to the bathrooms, splashing each other at the sinks as you cleaned up as best as you could. You remembered laughing as Hiromi cursed, trying to clean the residual cum off your clothes. You remembered Hiromi calling for you, afraid, anxious, before you ducked back up from behind the bar, your arms full of snacks and drinks. You remembered lying beneath the piano, gazing out across the city, flicking peanuts at each other, sharing slow, lazy kisses. You remembered naively seeing a future between you, a happy life with none of this unthinkable chaos.

It was your fault, you cursed yourself, vomiting and wracked with sobs, staggering away from the devastation. If you had been able to develop your power, and pose a real threat, Hiromi wouldn't have been burdened with such a liability.

Lost in each other again, nose to nose beneath the piano, your instincts had kicked in just fast enough to kick Hiromi away, saving his life as the floor between you both split with dreadful electricity. A strange-haired, wild-eyed boy burst through the room on a voltage, bottles smashing, the floor splitting, your rifle disappearing into the chasm as Hiromi shouted for you, urging you, ordering you-- you were sure, to move, to run, to save yourself and leave him.

You could do none of them, your military training meaning nothing to this god. You could do nothing when Hiromi stepped into his path, defending you, fighting tooth and nail. You could do nothing as the floors split beneath him, dragging them down in lightning flashes, horrifying rumbles. You had fled from the collapse, leaping flights of stairs one at a time, possessed by some strange force. You had not felt Hiromi again. Powerful though he was, you could not see how he could walk out of such a fight alive.

Putting all the dregs of your energy into hiding, refusing to let Hiromi's sacrifice be in vain, you cried yourself to sleep, nose in Hiromi's overcoat, his cum still cooling between your thighs.

+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+

Each day merged into the next. Time had lost meaning. While you had the urge to fight before loving Hiromi, to have loved and lost him broke you and the future you may have had. The battleground was no place for someone such as yourself now. You cursed the injustice of it all.

Cold, dirty and exhausted, your head rested sideways against an industrial bin, praying the rain would wipe your soul clean.

You had translated his business card, with your little dictionary--

Lawyer. Higuruma Hiromi, Criminal Defence Lawyer.

Knowing this detail of his life, a sweet overlay of understanding dawned upon you, his character suddenly so understandable, his anguish shooting through you like knives, and all too late, too late--

"...English?"

Your head jerked up, to the end of the alleyway. Silhouetted, dripping in the rain, bleeding and bruised but impossibly alive--

Your face crumpled, pressed into your wet sleeves, shaking. Slow splashing footsteps approached you, Hiromi kneeling in front of you, a hand coming out to graze through your hair.

He opened your dictionary, dusty and bloodstained, before flicking to a dog-eared page;

"Found you."

[soulchjer]

No one talked about it, or at least i didn't saw it.

"Yup, I can take that."

(For all the monster fuckers in this app, and for me.)

There is something about humans that makes us quite simple, we really have a strange addiction to anything that could kill us.

That is a definition of how we can describe in *very* summary how we interact with aliens.

Especially Dan, he is one of the space idiots that humans would describe as a monster fucker.

Indeed, Dan could go after anyone who could break him in half.

...

Jia is a small and furry looking alien, he had sat next to the human Dan today and was talking to him for a while, today was his first interaction with the human and despite all the myths and legends around humans, Dan is very nice!

Jia was going to continue talking, but Dan made him stay quiet for a second.

Dan stared in perplexity at one of the new recruits, a kuaghan, a type of large alien, a terrifying-looking but gentle and large-sized predator. Jia thought that perhaps the human was scared, but he never thought that the human Dan had actually thought otherwise.

Dan: Oh my god... how tall is he? No, do they have a specific genre? Jia, tell me, do you know him, can you introduce him to me?...Wow, is huge, I can take it, barely... mhn, I'm sure..." He heard Dan murmur at the end.

Jia was dumbfounded, the little alien didn't knew the new recruit, but before he even managed to say a thing, Dan had already dragged him to meet this new recruit.

The little alien was scared! Did Dan take his new recruit as a threat?! It just can't be! He want to take him in a fight?! He has to prevent the new recruit and the human from getting hurt!

...

Dan: You're new, right? Hello, my name is Dan, I'm thirty-one this year, I'm single, I got a house in my planet and I have a job here, I got a lot of savings...

The alien hesitated but nodded in response and Dan stuck to him like a tick. Jia watched without words as that predator feared by the aliens acted just as surprised as he was at the human's approach.

Jia witnessed how the kuaghan was not only treated quite well by the human, but was also able to specifically smell the hormones released by the human when it approached the kuaghan.

The Kuaghan have a reproductive method similar to that of penguins according to the human Dan, the more beautiful the stones, the more impressed their partners will be.

Dan gave every gemstone he could find to the new recruit, earning surprised looks from everyone.

No one dares get too close to the Kuaghan, only Dan seems eager to talk to him, but this recruit knew specifically why he was giving him stones.

Jia only found out when human Dan told him.

The kuaghan even... started to get shy every time the human approached?!

Jia felt like his jaw might drop to the ground.

...Human Dan... Is Human Dan trying to court a predator twice his size?! and is it working?!

Jia's surprise could not grow any more when he found the Kuaghan leaving the human Dan's room. When the new recruit saw him, he ran away embarrassed.

Dan greeted him from inside his room, shaking and smiling with weak legs, only a fool wouldn't know what had happened in there, the aroma of the two was permeated in the room.

The little furry alien was finally able to understand the meaning of the human's murmurs.

Of course you said you could take him, but not in a fight!

[sky-scribbles]

Shepard holds a funeral for her clone.

The paperwork is almost harder than the ceremony. Turns out it’s tricky to register the death of someone whose birth - creation? Decanting-from-vat? - was never recorded to begin with. Then there’s some kind of question about whether the clone needs to be retroactively registered as a Council space citizen to have her death put on the official record, and if so, whether she counts as a member of the Systems Alliance or as an ‘undocumented alien’. Which is pretty fucking ironic, considering how utterly she’d have loathed having the word alien attached to her.

And once Shepard’s ground her teeth through a dozen calls and bludgeoned through the first layer of formwork - a death certificate still needs a name.

‘I have to put something,’ she says. She’s aware that her voice is ragged, and that Kaidan is watching her as he brews her fourth coffee of the evening with concern heavy on his face. She must look barely alive, up near midnight in a kitchen that was Anderson’s and still feels nothing like hers, hair falling forward, eyes shadowed grey. Datapads and empty mugs strewn around her. Fine. She’s felt barely alive ever since she woke up in a Cerberus lab.

‘You could choose one for her,’ Kaidan says gently. A lot of people speak to her gently, these days.

‘She’d hate that. A name makes you individual. She didn’t want to be an individual; she wanted to be me.’

The cofee machine whirrs softly, sounding louder than it is in the open space of the apartment. It still doesn’t feel right, all this space for one person. Someone could drown in this much space.

‘She didn’t want to be you, though. Not really.’ Kaidan pours out the coffee, his eyes only leaving her face for a moment. ‘What she wanted was to be the symbol. The face on the vids.’

He carries the mug over and sets it down beside her hand. Shepard grips it tight. The unfinished form blinks up at her from the datapad screen, and she looks away.

‘I’m not asking this because I don’t support you doing it, or to judge you for it, or anything,’ Kaidan says, after a moment. ‘I just want to understand. Can you tell me why this is so important to you? I mean - I get that you were trying to save her, and she... she let go. But...’

He hesitates, and in his silence Shepard hears, she tried to kill you. She tried to take you away from me, and everyone who cares about you, for a second time - because she was jealous.

Shepard sips her coffee. It hasn’t had time to cool down, and her lips smart. She ignores it. She thinks.

‘What you said about... being the symbol,’ she says at last. ‘I get why she wanted it, or thought she did. I understand feeling that Commander Shepard is someone bigger than you are.’

Kaidan breathes out slowly, and takes a seat beside her.

‘I get feeling that you’re so small, so nothing, next to everyone’s idea of what Commander Shepard is. And when I fall short -’ She sees him prepare to protest, and cuts across him. ‘I do, I do all the time - I feel like it’d be easier if I were the symbol. Not...’ She waves a hand, indicating all the sleep-starved mess of her. ‘This. I don’t even know when what would Shepard do and what will I do stopped feeling like the same question.’

She lets her hand fall back onto the table. Kaidan takes it and holds it tight.

‘And I think of her, the clone, waking up in some Cerberus med bay. Confused. And Brooks - Brooks was there, feeding her things to believe, manipulating her, turning her into the symbol she wanted. And I get it.’ Shepard bites her burned lip. ‘Because I woke up in a Cerberus lab. And I was scared. And they used me, and I let them.’

What she does not add is, and sometimes I don’t feel any more real than her. I don’t have any way to prove that I’m the woman who died in the wreckage of her broken ship. They wiped away that woman’s scars. There could be all kinds of tech in my head, feeding me a lie, telling me I’m real.

She swallows. Her throat feels raw. ‘And now the clone’s dead, and no one cares. We’re planning a fucking party. If I don’t push for a funeral, she’ll just go unregistered and undocumented and everyone will keep joking about how crazy this whole mess has been, how I fell through a fish tank and a mad clone tried to steal my life, and it’d be like she never existed at all. I don’t have to fill in these forms. I could take the easy road and let her be a ghost. But I can’t do that, Kaidan. I can’t.’

He looks at her, his eyes steady and patient and full of worry. Then he slips an arm over her shoulder and pulls her in, and Shepard leans into him, needing the surety of his touch, his warmth. Anything that tells her she’s something more than a force piloting a set of N7 armour.

Kaidan presses a slow kiss to the top of her head. He holds her until she stops feeling ready to howl. Then he sits with her and helps her fill in the forms, helps her choose a name for the clone, one that fits. When morning comes, he calls C-Sec and stays on the line until they agree to release the body to the Normandy, into the custody of the only person who could be considered the dead woman’s relative. 

He doesn’t ask Shepard any more questions as to why she needs this done.

In the end, they bury her in space, as Shepard would a crewmate. And no one has stories to tell of what she meant to them. They have nothing to say about the achievements of her angry little life. But they wear their dress blues, and speak softly, and they turn the lights down low.

Shepard doesn’t know if this is what her clone would have wanted. Maybe she never learned to want anything for herself at all. It doesn’t matter. A funeral doesn’t help her clone; it helps her.

They lift the casket into the airlock. EDI opens the outer door. And the casket leaps away into space in a blur of silver-grey, like the body within is hungry for the stars.

[recreationalfanfics]

Tengen with a Tamaranean! Reader

Fandoms: DC, Demon Slayer

A/N: YEAH, NO, MY BRAIN HAS BEEN HAVING THOUGHTS. If you don't know what Tamaraneans are; they are an alien race in DC comics that Starfire comes from. Obv a Tamaranean would be too OP in Demon Slayer. ANOTHER GREAT THING ABOUT TAMARANEANS IS THAT POLY RELATIONSHIPS ARE NORMALIZED

Warning: Reader kisses characters out of nowhere (this is because Tamaraneans CAN speak other languages but they have to kiss someone in order to do it)

- NAH, BRO, HE AND HIS WIVES ARE INSTANTLY IN LOVE AND YOU CAN NOT CONVINCE ME OTHERWISE.

- THE WAY YOUR HAIR SETS ON FIRE!? AMAZING. THE BEAUTIFUL GLOWING AND CALM AURA AROUND YOU!? IMMACULATE. YOUR STRENGTH AND KIND HEARTED NATURE!? FLASHY.

- He was probably fight a demon and you had just crash landed on Earth and while you had no idea what was going on, you stepped in when you saw the large and ferocious demon looming over him and used one of your star bolts.

- To be honest, I honestly think Tengen wouldn't think too much about aliens (my guy is wearing crystals) probably thought you were a demon at first but then you smiled at him and his brain went blank. Yeah, no, definetly not a demon.

- HIS WIVES CATCH UP, THEY'RE CONFUSED ABOUT WHO YOU ARE but are very fascinated by you. But then when they ask you questions, you can't understand them and you try to signal that to them with your hands but then you sighs and kiss the nearest one.

- That one happened to be Suma and she was shocked and when you pulled away, her face was beat red and she looked like she was about to faint. EVERYONE ELSE WAS BAFFLED BECAUSE THIS HAPPENS IN THE SPAN OF, LIKE, 30 MINUTES.

- "I'm sorry about that, I couldn't understand you before and I could not speak your language. My people overcome that obstacle through lip contact, I hope you understand."

- And they just accept it tbh. You seem very earnest and noble and you did save Tengen's life.

- NO BECAUSE YOU STAYING WITH THEM AND HELPING WITH CHORES. Lifting Hina up when things are too high for her to reach so she doesn't have to deal with smug Tengen, Holding Suma because you're so warm and your arms feel so strong and safe when she gets a bit too hysterical, and Makio getting all flustered when you tell her how beautiful she is when she's angry and she reminded you of a fierce war queen.

- TENGEN LITERALLY THINKS EVERYTHING YOU DO IS FLASHY. The way you can lift up all three of his wives and HIM with ease, the way you fly around with such joy and look so angelic as you do so, and how you try to support his fellow Hashira against demons and is always impressed by your strength in battle.

- BRO, IN ALL FAIRNESS, They were hesitant to confess to you because yeah, you were kinda flirty and free in your own sense due to the nature of your people, but then when they ask about polygamy and stuff and you tell them that it's not uncommon on your planet and that you wish to find your love or lovers, then they all perk up and bring up the idea of you becoming their partner.

- AND OF COURSE YOU ACCEPT. They have been nothing but kind and gracious to you and it didn't hurt that they were all so attractive.

- At night, they all definetly cuddle as close as possible to you because of how warm you are so you often times have to be in the middle (Tengen and/or Suma are the blanket stealers, I know it-)

- Your people are very affectionate so sometimes your lips might heat up during kisses and leave light burn marks on their skin. You apologize as Makio just pouts and gives you the silent treatment, Tengen is just smirking because tbh it's kinda hot to him, and Suma is a flustered mess along with Hinatsuru whose currently helping apply ointment.

- But yeah, no, Tengen would be showing you off all the time and ALSO, THE EGO BOOST HE'D GET WOULD BE INSANE BECAUSE HE'S LIKE: "DO YOU SEE THIS!? I HAVE FOUR WIVES, ONE OF WHICH IS AN ALIEN WHO CAN EFFORTLESSLY KILL DEMONS." to anyone who'd be listening.

[mintymarabell]

Hello :p

I'm not sure if your taking request's or not but if you are, could you do yandere elder with an S/O who is hesitant to love him?

thank you `(*>﹏<*)′

Yandere elder with a s/o who is hesitant to love him

When it comes to your hesitance, he understand. I mean he did take you from your home.

He will never give you a reason to not trust him.

It had been a few days since he had taken you from your home. Away from your bed that you were sleeping comfortably in until he had decided to sneak through your window and pluck you from your warm satin sheets.

When you had awoken you were in a bed much larger than your queen size. The blankets being mostly furs and an occasional pillow. As he had walked in you scurried to the far end of the bed, he sat down at the edge farthest from you. “I’m sure you’re confused at what is going on.” He spoke, his voice deep and low. You chose to say nothing, opting to just stare at his unusual face. “You have never met me, but I have seen you.” He talked as he explained seeing you in some park and had fallen head over heels. You had long zoned out as he kept talking and talking, his clawed hands even coming up at some point to gesture toward you. “I’m hoping. Praying to paya or whatever god that wants to listen that you can love me. I am willing to wait a millennia if it means I can call you mine and hold you in my arms.” He was now fully turned toward you, his knees on the bed as he leaned down toward you as if he was bowing in some sort.

“This is your home now. Please make yourself comfortable.” Is all he said after what seemed like an hour of him just staring at you waiting for an answer. As he walked out of the room silenced took over the room, save for your racing thoughts.

It had taken you a long time to get up and walk out of the room. The yautja sat comfortably on a very large couch, a tool of some sort rested on his lap as he fiddled with it. He had glanced at you, giving you some lovesick look as he gestured for you to sit with him. You obeyed, scared at the consequences of rejecting him. “I am not going to hurt you..” He went back to swiping a cloth across the alien tool. “How can I be so sure.”

“Because if I had the intentions of doing so I would’ve done it by now.” His hands stilled as he looks over at you, “I’ll be going out on a hunt soon, i have stocked up on enough food to last you till I am back.” He set the cloth down and took a band from the coffee table, from there he took his ‘hair’ and begin tying it up. It looks almost like a task itself with how heavy it looked.

“I trust you will be fine while I am gone?” You didn’t answer, choosing instead to try and disappear into the crevices of the couch, trying to make yourself smaller. “Little ooman, you do not need to be so afraid.” He voice was soft as he spoke, as if he wrapped it in false velvet. His hand came up to try and pet at your head but hesitated when you flinched. His hand dropped as he stood up, “I will see you later.”

At this point, he’s gonna be on his trip thinking of what to do to make you love him.

He lied. He can’t wait no millennia for you to love him. He has horrible patience when it comes to you. He always has.

He wasn’t even supposed to take you till next spring. He just couldn’t help it though. After hearing about your male friend getting closer he didn’t want the chance of the ooman trying to take you from him.

He didn’t really have to leave for so long. He really didn’t even need to go on the hunt, though he has just the right thing to make you some what love him.

He’ll kill the beast he had planned to use as a trophy, taking the alien animals teeth from its jaw he made a necklace that consisted of a quarts type of rock you always had spread around your room and the teeth.

He also took the skull itself so he could put it up as a trophy, maybe even showing you he is a capable mate who can take care of you.

He cut his little “trip” short, slinging the skull on his back in a bag. The necklace in his hand as he imagined how pretty it would look on you. He snapped it onto his belt look as he continued.

Right before he walked into the house he disappeared into the forest next to the house. He took his small knife out and made a long slash at his stomach and then a chunk from his leg. He quickly threw the knife far into the woods and limped off to the house.

If you won’t love him soon he’ll just play your sympathy.

Waddling into the house “hissing in pain” as you walked up to see what was going on. He’ll ask for your help to the couch, enjoying the feeling of your colder skin on his own as you helped him.

He was capable of walking but he wanted you near. Resisting an annoyed groan as you shifted six feet away when he settled down. He pulled the necklace off of his belt and handed it out to you with a “shaky hand” he’ll say he made it for you, thinking it would look good on you. He’ll explain how he killed the beast for the teeth and got injured in the process, making you feel guilty.

He’ll make you love him.

Even if he’s gotta play dirty.

[natalievoncatte]

Nothing has ever hit Lena like this.

She’s been abducted by aliens. She was almost shotgun married to an alien. Her ex was eaten by nanobots in front of her. She’s been tried to a chair while her brother tried to murder the world’s most beloved hero, and nearly vaporized by a man with a radioactive chunk of another planet for a heart.

Not to mention the mundane stuff. The L-Corp logo in the lobby almost crushing her. Bombs, bullets, blades, being thrown off a balcony, thrown off a roof, left to die in a plane crash.

Almost killed when her brother sent drones to shoot down her helicopter and a golden vision of inhuman beauty came from the sky to save her life.

Of course, that golden vision had tarnished, turned brass. She could be bossy, sanctimonious, paranoid, prone to snapping at Lena one moment… then making her knees weak the next.

Because sometimes, Supergirl wasn’t bossy, sanctimonious, or paranoid. Sometimes she was all dashing grace, with a profoundly frustrating tendency to scoop Lena into her arms and carry her there with surpassing tenderness, as though she were the most precious treasure the alien had ever seen.

Poor Lena’s heart had suffered terribly through all that, yet never skipped a beat.

It skipped now.

Kara looked up from her burger, apropos of nothing. Or, that’s what Lena would have thought a moment ago, before she recognized that scar.

The world spun crazily. Lena grasped the sides of her seat for dear life while alarms and sirens blared in every direction. Smoke coughed noisily from the remains of the turbines that had powered her chopper’s rotor blades. As the world seemed to grow weightless, Lena finally accepted what was happening- the chopper was going to crash. She was going to die.

And then there was a wind.

No, not a wind. A blur of motion, a red and blue streak cutting through the brilliant afternoon light and then a stomach-churning lurch as the falling aircraft just stopped, gently floating to a safe landing on the roof.

With a squeak of tearing metal, she was there. A goddess in primary colors, soft waves of golden hair framing her devastatingly lovely face as she checked the pilot and then turned those arresting blue eyes to Lena and then asked-

“Are you okay? Lena?”

With trembling hands, Lena reached up. Kara froze, a thousand emotions flashing on her face, fear flickering in the oceans of her eyes. They both paused, testing the moment. This was it. They had their choices: Lena could stop, make some excuse. Kara could flinch and offer some gee golly shucks reason to move out of reach and dissemble her way out of it. They could decide not to do this.

Lena did not stop, and Kara did not move. The frames of Kara’s glasses were surprisingly heavy in her grasp as she softly tugged them free and set them aside. Lena raises a hand to Kara’s cheek, ever hesitant quiver of her palm a question. She closed the gap between them on the couch and brought her other arm back up, circling Kara in something that was somehow more intimate than a hug. He best friend sat stone still as Lena worked loose the band that held her hair.

Golden locks spilled about her shoulders, and Lena gasped. She caressed her hand up Kara’s shockingly soft cheek and touched the scar lightly with her thumb.

Lena felt the tears trembling in her own eyes as Kara’s welled with her own. The moment had come; the river was crossed, the decision made.

And yet in this moment there was another one, at once simpler and more profound. Lena’s lip trembled. Anger welled in her chest, burning hot and bright.

It’s not a great question for a Luthor to ask someone in my family.

It twisted in her like venom, burning at her insides, trying to eat through her from the inside out. The fury rose until she thought she’d be sick, and then…

Kara Danvers believes in you.

Take me instead!

I can’t hold both! You have to jump!

I will always protect you.

“It’s you,” Lena whispered. “It’s always been you.”

Before she knew what was happening, Kara drew her forward with surpassing tenderness. Hands that could crack marble gently guided Lena’s weight into Kara’s lap. What had not been meant as an embrace became one, and Lena made her choice.

It was her.

It had always been her.

Noticing small details about them (physically)

[neonghostlights]

Chapter Two: What Did You Just Say?

Alien!Eddie Munson x Fem!Famer!Reader

A/N: This chapter picks up right where the last chapter left off.

Series Summary: Your dull life gets flipped upside down when a stranger crash lands on your farm. When the mystery of what he is unravels, he takes you and your heart for a ride that is out of this world.

Warnings: Blood (it's green), Head injury/cut, Reader gets injured, Eddie chases reader (but not really), 18+ only

Wordcount: 3.4k

Chapter One here

“Are you okay?” You asked the injured man. 

He blinked one slow blink instead of answering. His hand tightened around your wrist with a squeeze before letting go completely. The loss of his touch on your wrist felt heavy and you didn’t know why. 

He rubbed his head, staring down at green liquid coming from the wound with furrowed brows. It pooled on his fingertips and dripped down his long fingers, running in a stream towards his wrist. It was bright and unnaturally colored, nothing like anything you had ever seen before. 

The green blood was pretty weird. But if you needed to help him you couldn’t just focus on that. 

You tapped his shoulder, getting his attention. It seemed to snap him out of whatever trance he was in. He didn’t look up at you, he just started furiously tapping on the screen in front of him. 

You watched in awe as the buttons and gears illuminated on the panel in front of him. It looked like a high tech version of the inside of a luxury car. 

On the screen, a bunch of symbols popped up. You didn’t understand what any of it meant. He seemed to understand it completely though by the worried look on his face as his eyes scanned over them quickly. 

“Uh, sorry to interrupt. But you’re leaking green fluid and you probably need to see a doctor.” You hesitated as you spoke, unsure on what to do. They never give you instructions on what to do if a strange thing crashes on your family farm. You wished they had handbooks for situations like these. 

The man continued to ignore you as he continued typing into the screen, fingers moving in a blur from his speed. 

The screen lit up even brighter before a large enhanced picture of earth popped up. The man looked at it with raised brows and then at you, pointing at the screen. 

“Are you asking me if we’re on earth right now?”

He pointed to you and the screen again, waving his hand a little bit to get you to answer quickly. 

You nodded quickly. How could you have been so blind? This wasn’t an airplane or some sort of military vehicle. This was a spaceship. And that made the man you were staring at not a man at all, but an alien. 

“Uh, yep. That’s us. Now, if you don’t mind I’m gonna go make a few phone calls.”

The man watched you with furrowed, confused brows as you started to back away. You looked behind you to see Comet had moseyed back down the field to the rest of the cows, not bothered at all by the strange happenings. Of course she would save herself and leave you to handle the danger on your own.

When you got a few steps away, he frantically undid the halter type seat belt and pulled himself up from the wreckage, glass and metal crunching under his boots. He slid a little as he tried to get out quickly, obviously not wanting to let you get away. 

“No, no, no,” you demanded. “You stay there and just wait for the cops or the government or whoever happens to be on alien duty to show up, okay?” 

Maybe you shouldn’t have mentioned the cops. 

“Or maybe not the cops!” You corrected, placing two hands out in front of you as you slowly backed away. Your boots caught against some of the loose metal and broken glass around you. You would have to clean this up before one of the animals got hurt. 

He stood out of the wreckage now. He was taller than you thought he was going to be, with thin long arms that had a hint of muscle bulging at the biceps. His long sleeve shirt and pants were tight, forming to him. Black lace up boots came up to about his mid calf. 

He stumbled towards you, gaining his footing. Poor guy had to be dizzy from hitting his head after presumably falling out of the sky at record speed. It was a miracle that he was even alive. Maybe that thing had airbags in it. 

“Just stay right there,” you cooed, taking the voice you would use to get animals or children to listen. 

He didn’t listen though. He got his bearings and started to stride towards you with a determined look. 

“No!” you yelled, but he didnt stop. 

So, you did the best thing you could think of when posed in a life threatening situation like this. 

You ran for your life. 

You sprinted towards the house with your back turned away from him, leaving you vulnerable for him to come up behind you. Your boots pounded across the grass, thudding with each step you took. 

Nights on the farm were devoid of all light except for the moon, the stars, and the light pole your grandfather had added next to the house. You stumbled through the field, your foot landing in a shallow hole and sending you towards the ground. 

You hit the grass with a thud and the air left your lungs with a wheeze. It hurt like hell but you couldn’t just lie there like you wanted to. You needed to get inside and call for help before he could catch up to you. 

You scrambled forward. A sharp pain shot up your leg from your ankle when you put pressure on it but you had to ignore it for now. 

You climbed over the rickety wooden fence, a splinter of wood embedding itself into your palm. It made more sense to climb over it than pausing to open and close the gate behind you. The wooden planks wobbled from your weight, creaking from the weak wood. You really needed to replace that damn fence.

You tilted over and fell on your side. God, this was awful. Now you know why those girls in horror movies always fall. It was hard to stay up straight when running for your life. If the stranger behind you had a knife you’d be done for already. 

You took a second to glance back to see him high tailing towards you, just a couple of feet away from you. His long legs covered more ground than you could. Here you were, falling all over the place and injuring yourself in the process while he looks like he hasn’t even broken a sweat. 

You let out a scream and got back up, crossing the gravel driveway and climbing onto the front porch. You threw yourself up the steps, grasping the metal handle to the screen door. It slipped between your sweaty fingers on the first try. 

You made the mistake of turning to see how close he was now. You felt him before you saw him. His body pushed up against yours, trapping you against the screen door. His back was to your front, arms spread to keep you behind him. 

You froze, confused by his actions. “What are you doing?” You yelled, pushing his back so he would move. He didn’t even budge an inch. 

You did your best to lean around him to look at his face. He looked panicked, eyes wide and head swiveling, obviously looking for some sort of danger. 

You realized then that he didn’t know that you were running from him. You also realized that he was trying to protect you from the unknown threat. 

It was kind of sweet. 

You flicked the back of his neck to get his attention, deciding not to go with his head since he was already banged up. 

“Get off of me. I was running from you.” 

He turned at your voice to face you, rubbing the back of his neck with a wince from where you had plucked him. 

His head was bleeding heavier now, most likely from his running getting his blood pumping. 

You sighed, feeling bad now. He didn’t seem like he would be a danger to you. He was hurt and probably confused. If he was going to hurt you he would have already done so by now and he definitely wouldn’t have tried to protect you. 

You opened the door behind you and gestured for him to follow you inside. You pointed at the couch and told him to sit while you went to get your first aid kit from the bathroom. 

You dug underneath the bathroom sink until you found what you were looking for. You held it up triumphantly, turning to go back to the living room when you ran right into your new friend, who was supposed to be waiting for you in the living room. 

You jumped back in surprise before you narrowed your eyes at him. “I told you to wait,” you muttered as you grabbed his arm and pulled him back to the couch, pushing on his shoulder so he would sit. 

When you were sure he wouldn’t get up again you opened the first aid kit. “So, what are you? Where are you from? I mean, you’re obviously not from here and from here I mean the planet earth unless you’re playing a prank. But I’m not sure how you would fake the green blood or the crashed spaceship in my cow field,” you said with a laugh that verged on the edge of hysterics. You squirted some cleaner onto the gauze. 

You dabbed the cut on his forehead. The man hissed in pain, grabbing your wrist to pull you away. You stayed steady, not letting him move you. 

“Sorry,” you mumbled. “I have to clean this or you’re going to get an infection. Okay, so we’ve covered that you’re not from here. So does that mean you’re an alien?” You dabbed at it gently while he still held onto your wrist. His fingers rubbed against your pulse point, sending chills up your arm. You blamed it on his seemingly chilled skin. His body temperature seemed to be lower than yours. You weren’t sure if it was from his injury or if that was just how he naturally was.  

The man looked you in the eyes and mumbled something to you in a gravelly voice. 

“Huh?” You asked, pulling out some adhesive sutures from your kit. These would have to do. 

He repeated his words, slower this time but you still didn’t understand. It didn’t sound like any language you had ever heard before. 

Your eyes moved from the green blood blotting the gauze you had used, to his full lips which were mouthing words that didn’t make sense, and then to the cold feeling of his skin against yours where he held onto your wrist. You thought of the weird contraption he had been in, the screen with the picture of earth on it, and how he had pointed at you and the picture as if to make sure that was the planet he was on. 

You dropped the supplies you were holding from your hand and started to back away. He let go of your wrist, looking at you with a questionable look. What the hell were you doing? Based on what you’ve gathered, he wasn’t from this world. Hell, he probably wasn’t even from this universe. 

He said something again in his language, softer this time. It sounded like a plea but you couldn’t be sure. His hand reaching out for yours. You felt kind of bad for the poor guy. He crash landed onto a planet that wasn’t his own. It seemed like he couldn’t understand your language. He was hurt and probably in pain. 

You let out a dramatic exhale and clapped your hands together. He jumped back at the noise. 

“Okay, this is what we’re gonna do. We aren’t going to call the police because I’m pretty sure if they do that they’re gonna drag you away to some sort of laboratory or something and you seem like you don’t want to hurt anyone. All you need to do is fix up your little space craft thing and you’ll be good to go,” you rambled, knowing that he couldn’t understand you. To his credit though, he gave you his undivided attention anyways. 

“So this leaves us with what I’m going to do with you for now though…” you trailed off. You couldn’t make him sleep in the barn. That would just be mean. “Stay here,” you mumbled as you went to go find some blankets and pillows for him. He, of course, did not listen and followed you throughout the house. He observed everything as he went by with curious eyes. They must not have houses like this wherever he’s from. 

He trailed behind you, stepping on your heels a few times which earned him dirty looks from you. To his credit he did look at least a little apologetic. You spread the blankets out on the couch to make a makeshift bed. You fluffed the pillow and pointed at it. “Sleep.” 

He looked at you and then back down at the couch with a blank look. 

You groaned and guided him to sit on the couch then pushed on his shoulders to lie down.

He laid on the couch like a corpse with his arms crossed against his chest as he stared up at you. It didn’t look comfortable but it would have to do for now. You took a blanket, an old quilt your grandmother had made, and tossed it over him. You hoped he didn’t expect you to tuck him in. 

“Alright, goodnight,” you called as you switched off the lights in the living room, just leaving one lamp on in case he got scared or something. Do aliens get scared of the dark? You double checked the lock on the front door and slowly crept out of the room and towards your bedroom. 

You took a deep breath when your bedroom door closed behind you. You let your head thump against the wooden door. What the hell were you doing? Not only did you have a strange man in your living room, but a strange man that was most likely not from this world. 

Well, you always said you wanted to have an adventure. Here it was. 

You woke up before your alarm went off like you did every morning. Your body had become fine tuned at waking up before the sun ever peeked over the horizon. 

You stretched, contemplating all of your life choices that led you to having to wake up this early to not only work, but to also confront the handsome alien man that was sleeping on your couch. 

Unlocking your bedroom door and pushing the dresser that you used as a barricade with all of your body strength out of the way, you crept silently into the living room. He probably wouldn’t even be up yet. It was pretty early and he had obviously had a rough night. 

The lamp was still on in the living room, illuminating the now empty spot on the couch. The blankets were on the ground, like he had tossed them off and jumped up suddenly. 

“Alien?” You whispered-yelled throughout the dark house, checking room to room with no success. 

He had disappeared. 

“What the hell?” You groaned. How can someone lose an alien only hours after they got them? 

Maybe he left, deciding to go to town on his own. Or maybe he had a buddy pick him up and give him a ride back to whatever planet he came from. 

You sighed in relief at his absence, going to your room to get ready for the day.

It took less than five minutes to throw on a pair of jeans and boots to head out into the field to take care of what you needed to take care of. 

You threw open the door, inhaling the fresh morning air and stretching your arms out to the still dark sky and groaning as your joints loosened up. Maybe last night was a weird dream. You tested your weight on your ankle, still feeling the ache from where you fell during your run. It wasn’t awful but it was still there. 

You chewed on your lip. Where the hell was he? You looked out to the cow field and saw the wreckage still there. You’d have to find a way to pull that into the barn before someone else saw it and started to ask questions. 

Squinting your eyes to try to see the spaceship better from where you were, you could barely make out his movements beside it. You crossed the field, heading to him. You hoped he would have it fixed so he would just be able to leave now. 

When you got to him, he was sitting in the driver's seat. The sharp pieces of glass that covered the grass around the ship the night before had been cleaned up and laid in a pile in what looked to be a passenger seat. You’d have to find a way to thank him, you had been worried about the cows somehow getting hurt if they got too close to it. 

He smiled at you when he saw you, looking genuinely pleased to see you. It was surprising, since you really hadn’t been the nicest to him. He started rummaging through some sort of glove department. It was weird how much the inside resembled a two seat car but with a large touch screen with buttons surrounding it, purple glass, a circular shape, and a two handled steering wheel. 

He pulled out whatever he was looking for, a small metal box that fit into the palm of his hand. His fingers curled around it, waving it triumphantly for a second. He opened it, revealing what looked to be a small computer screen, two ear plugs, and a smooth metal chip that almost looked like a guitar pick but smaller. He tapped on the screen, holding it out to you. 

He stood up out of the seat, staring at you expectantly. You weren’t sure what he wanted you to do so you just stared at him with a confused look and gave him a small wave. You weren’t touching the things in his hands. For all you knew they were some weird mind control and before you knew it you would end up in a test tube to be studied by the aliens. 

Isn’t that how all of the abduction stories go? 

He said something in his language, it sounded rushed and excited. He tapped on the screen again and held it out in front of your face. You shuffled back. 

“Get that damn thing out of my face,” you snapped, not really meaning to be mean with him. You were just scared. 

The screen lit up a bright purple at the sound of your voice and he moved it away, facing it towards him again. He started tapping on it some more. He pulled out the earbuds and put one in each ear and placed the metal chip thing under his tongue. He closed his mouth for a second, focusing on something. You could see his tongue moving on the inside of his cheek like he was trying to get the thing in the right position. 

Finally, he stopped, a big smile crossing his face. Bright teeth showing in the early morning sunlight as it crested over the rolling hills of the field. It was strange how human he looked, but also not. What really gave him away was his beauty, the inhuman kind. There was no man walking around this earth that looked like that. 

Not even the men on the cover of your favorite books were that pretty. The alien wasn’t beefy or overly muscular, but you could see the swell of the muscle on his biceps, like he worked with his arms a lot. It looked good for his tall, thin frame. You imagined that if you could see through his tight clothing, you would probably see a toned stomach. 

You shook your head, trying to free yourself from those thoughts. You shouldn’t be wondering what was going on under the aliens' clothing. This wasn’t some science fiction romance book. 

He opened his mouth then closed it. He stopped for a second, looking off like he was thinking hard about something before opening his mouth to speak again. 

“Hello, human. My name is Eddie,” he said, completely in English. 

You froze, your brain ceasing to function for a moment. There was no way the alien man learned a new language that quickly. You couldn’t believe it. 

“What did you just say?”

[shatterinseconds]

“So you’re bisexual.”

Lance rolls his eyes at Keith’s statement, saying in pure exasperation, “Yes. Obviously.” 

Somehow Keith, out of everybody Lance has ever known, including his family back on Earth and his new family here on the castle-ship, is the last to know. Lance doesn’t quite get it since he has flirted with alien species of all different genders since they got trapped in space. But then again, this is Keith and he still has a mullet, as if Earth is stuck in the late twentieth century, so he clearly catches onto things at a snail’s pace.

“And you’ve had a crush on me this entire time?” This time Keith phrases it as a question, a slight heistance to his voice that Lance isn’t sure what to make of it. Whether it’s annoyance or hopefulness. There are only two things it could be. His arms are crossed, hands tightly clutching his biceps—it’s not that inspiring but Lance soldiers on. No getting out of it now; not after…  

“I don’t kiss people for the fun of it—I mean I do, but with meaning. Not on impulse.” Lance waves his hand as he struggles to explain. “You get it.”

“I really don’t.” But Keith says it with a smile this time, trying to contain a laugh and that makes Lance start to grin, a weight on his heart easing. “It was still pretty impulsive.”

“Sue me. You were the one who asked me to dance,” Lance bites back. His skin heats though the redness is thankfully concealed by his brown skin. 

It was a typical gala event, hosted by the alien species they had saved that day. Nothing special. Nothing unordinary besides Keith standing next to him, extending a hand in a silent question. When they had entered the dance floor, almost as if on queue, the crystal lighting shifted to a soft lavender, dosing both of them in a glow of starlight.

Keith’s touch had been so gentle, so warm. Lance didn’t even mind that they lost the rhythm to the dance too many times to count, Keith wholly uncoordinated.  

“You always complain about never having a partner,” Keith argues in response. His pale skin starts to color red, first his cheeks then his ears. Lance loves it.

“You hate dancing though.”

“I do,” Keith admits, only to surprise Lance by adding, “But you make it fun.”

Lance sucks in a sharp breath. He leans against the corridor wall, taking a moment to close his eyes and concentrate on the coolness of the metal. “Did you want me to kiss you?” he finds himself asking, a bit hesitant, as he opens his eyes again. 

Keith had cupped his face right as the music started to change into a different melody. His fingers twisted into the hair at the nape of Lance’s neck, thumb brushing his cheekbone. They had stared at each other as if in a trance, fully stopped on the dance floor while everyone else twirled around them unknowing.

Keith licks his lips, nodding to Lance’s question as he ducks his head. “Yeah, yeah I did,” he answers quietly. Then his dark violet eyes flick up to Lance’s face. “Just didn’t think you’d feel the same.”

Part of Lance can’t believe this is happening—that Keith would ever be interested in him. But here they are. He chuckles a little, unable to contain the spark of giddiness catching at his heart. “I’ll be more obvious with my flirting next time,” Lance says. He takes a step forward, making sure Keith’s attention remains set on him, and gently rests his hands on Keith’s hips, fingers catching onto his belt loops. “For instance: Keith Kogane, you are the most captivating person I have ever met. I’d love to take you on a date sometime.”

Keith leans in, grabbing onto Lance’s shirt to pull him closer, and kisses him square on the mouth. Their lips part and Lance follows Keith’s lead, caught in the push and pull and Keith’s quiet laugh reverberating against his open mouth. Keith breaks the kiss no more than a few seconds later, but a pleased smile sits on his face. “Alright, loverboy. Pick me up at seven. Don’t be late.”

[togrowoldinv]

Detka

Natasha Romanoff x Female Reader

In the midst of the battle and in the aftermath, Natasha saves you

Note: This is soft Nat with a little bit of battle angst in it. But it’s mostly fluff. Enjoy it!

Natasha Romanoff Masterlist 1, Natasha Romanoff Masterlist 2, Main Masterlist

It’s the peak of the battle when you realize that you’re cornered. The only move you can make is directly into enemy fire, but you’re running out of ammo and don’t see another option.

“Hold tight, y/n,” you hear through your comms. It’s Natasha’s voice.

“I have to make a move!” You say back.

“Not yet,” Nat says. “Wait for me.”

You sigh and retreat a few steps back into the makeshift shelter you took solace in.

You trust Natasha. Ever since you met the woman she’s been protective of you, and you know she isn’t going to steer you wrong in battle.

“You still there, y/l/n?”

“I’m here, Natasha. What do I do?”

Before she can answer, she comes into your line of sight. She’s taking down enemies left and right with her weapons and her body.

“Go to the right! I’ll cover you!” She shouts over the fighting.

You listen to her and break right. You successfully get out of being cornered.

“I’m clear!” You tell Nat, but soon you’re being taken from behind. With your legs lifted off the ground, you try to kick your way free. There’s no use. The alien is stronger than you. “Natasha!”

Nat looks around frantically. She can’t see you. “Where are you?”

When you don’t respond, she takes out her phone. Tony implanted in a tracker in your suit for moments like this. She triangulates your location and runs that way.

You’re across the city by now in a building. They captured Clint too and he’s tied up next to you.

“Tell us where the stone is and no one gets hurt,” the leader of the fighters speaks to you both.

“We’re not saying a word,” Clint replies.

“Perhaps if we hurt your new friend here, you will speak.”

“Don’t touch her,” Clint breathes out.

But it doesn’t do any good. The other aliens take the order from their leader to hurt you. A simple few kicks to the stomach and you’re aching for help.

“Care to speak now?” They ask Clint again. He knows that he can’t talk, but he doesn’t want them to hurt you anymore either.

“Clint, I’m fine,” you whimper out. “Don’t say anything.”

“Be silent! Or you will be killed,” the alien says.

Out of the corner of your eye, you see Natasha slip silently into the room. She holds up a finger to her lips as she gets closer.

“Where is the stone?” They ask again.

“We’re not telling you,” comes Clint’s reply.

“Finish her,” they scoff the order.

But before they can touch you again, the three aliens at your side are taken down one by one.

“I’m a better shot when I’m pissed off,” Natasha says, aiming directly for the leader. She doesn’t hesitate to take them out as well.

You find yourself crying on the floor, the weight of it all sinking in. Nat watches and her heart breaks. At the sight, she doesn’t think twice about coming to your aid before that of her best friend’s.

“Hey, hey, it’s okay,” Natasha hustles over to you. She unties your hands and runs a soft hand your palms. “You’re okay.”

“You saved me,” you say. “Thank you.”

You fall into her arms and she holds you against her chest.

“I got you, y/n,” Natasha says. She holds you for at least a few minutes before it’s time to go. “Can you walk?”

You nod and stand up. Your stomach aches but you manage to make it to the quinjet.

Natasha stays by your side the entire time. She walks you to the medbay. She turns to leave and give you some space, but you slip your hand in hers. It’s a silent plea for her to stay.

“What do we have here?” Dr. Cho asks you upon arrival.

“I got kicked pretty hard,” you explain. Dr. Cho lifts your suit top to reveal already bruising skin. Natasha feels herself getting emotional next to you. She’s angry, but she softens when she sees you flinch at the doctor’s touch.

“Looks like a broken rib or two. I’ll have to do a test to be sure, but you’ll definitely need some time off to heal,” the doctor explains.

“But we have mission in two days and-“

“Hey, no missions right now. Don’t worry about that,” Natasha says. Her voice is soft.

You don’t expect her hand to rest gently on your cheek and wipe away a tear you didn’t realize was falling down your face.

“I’ll be right back,” Dr. Cho excuses herself.

“You alright?” Nat asks once it’s just the two of you in the room.

“Yeah, I’m okay. Just upset with myself.”

She moves directly in front of you and takes your hands.

“You did everything right,” Natasha says.

“But what if I-“

“No, don’t do that. You can’t what if everything or you’ll never have any peace. Trust me. You’re new at this. It’s okay, detka. I promise,” she says.

“What’s that word mean?” You ask her innocently.

Her cheeks turn a deep red and she glances down at her feet. She’s been caught.

“It’s just a Russian word,” she tries.

“That means what?” You ask. She hesitates. “Nat, you don’t have to tell me.”

“It’s fine. It’s just- it means babe or baby,” she confesses.

Your eyes go wide and the breath leaves your chest, not due to the broken ribs.

“I’m sorry,” she says. “I care about you a lot and seeing you like this is just hard and I guess I slipped the term out. It won’t happen-“

You cut her off by pressing your lips on hers. Natasha moves her hands to your cheeks and deepens the kiss. Your hand pulls at the front of her suit. There’s not an inch of distance between the two of you.

Natasha breaks the kiss first, remembering that you’re injured. You chase after her lips and she smiles. It’s the brightest smile you’ve ever seen.

“Later, detka. Right now you have to heal,” Natasha says.

“But-“

She kisses you again before you can finish your plea.

“I know,” she says, her forehead resting on yours. “I like you.”

“I like you so much, Natasha,” you admit.

Nat kisses you one more time before the doctors come back in and give you orders to relax and let yourself heal.

She takes your hand as you walk down the hallway together.

Natasha saved your life in more ways than one that day.

[drurrito]

Bleeding

A/N: It's Friday why did I write angst. Edit: title change sorryyyy.

Pairings: Wanda Maximoff x reader

Warnings: Blood...needles and some angst; themes of death/dying.

----------------

Wanda sees you bleed because her curiosity got the best of her.

"What is that?" Wanda asks, falling in step with you to ogle at your swollen ear. You're walking towards Bruce's mini clinic after going too many rounds with Bucky in the training room.

"Cauliflower ear," you pop a few pieces of gum in your mouth, something to bite down on when Bruce drains your ear.

"How does that happen?" Wanda leans in a little more to get a better look at your ear. It's red yet translucent, it looks like it's harboring a tiny alien in the tip of your ear. Gross.

"Wrestling, especially when you decide to use it against a centenarian who never bothered to work on his ground game," you chuckle. Wanda tries not to think about rolling around with you on the mats. The color of Wanda's cheeks almost rivaling your ears.

-----------------

Wanda wanted to see it happen.

She's standing close enough for to get a good look. You're sitting on the bench, unfazed by Bruce putting together a syringe inches away.

"You squeamish?" You arch an eyebrow in Wanda's direction. Her eyes snap away from the needle and up to yours.

"No," she gives you a soft smile, "are you?"

"Depends," you shrug, "if I say yes does that mean I can hold your hand?"

Wanda scoffs, almost forgetting how bold you can be sometimes, "I don't know," she drawls, "you look like you can handle a little pain."

"You wanna put that theory to the test?" You waggle your eyebrows at her and her eyes roll into another dimension.

"Ready?" Bruce turns around, syringe in hand, but you don't dare to look at it.

"Do it," you say coolly--but Wanda sees the way your jaw sets and gives you her hand without hesitation. You don't tease her, only squeezing her hand twice. Once when the needle went in and another to wordlessly say 'thank you.'

----------------

Your blood spills freely onto the concrete floors of this lab.

An easy price to pay for peace, you think.

Wanda's arms drag you into her lap, you tiredly blink up at your savior. Her hands cover yours to help press down on the wound. You've already lost too much blood.

"You squeamish?" You mumble, Wanda breathes out something resembling a laugh.

"I'll only be upset if you die on me."

"Can't have that," you grunt. Your breathing is starting to become more labored with each passing minute. The whole building is under fire, so just busting out for a great escape is out of the question for now. Wanda hates feeling so helpless, she hates seeing you suffer even more.

Your ears are ringing, you can barely make out the team screaming about being pinned down and needing a miracle.

"Wanda..." your voice is weaker now.

"Don't."

"It's okay," you feebly reach for her hand, she takes it without thinking.

"No," she chokes out, "I can get you to Bruce...I can get you to Bruce and I can save everyone. I can save you."

The determination in her voice makes you wince, it's heavy and fierce, she was always supposed to be a hero.

"If you kill us both, I'm gonna haunt your ass," you flash a broken smile and Wanda actually laughs this time.

"Just hold on," she tries not to beg, only squeezing your hand to let you know she means it. In a matter of seconds you feel weightless, the cool air on your face brings you back if only for a moment.

Wanda shields you both, ignoring the team's pleading and the barrage of bullets and missiles bouncing and exploding off of her energy. She needs to save you, she needs to save everyone.

It's not until she gets to Bruce's location that she realizes you're not holding her hand anymore.

[timetravellingshinigami]

For anyone who likes a good alien romance with plot and smut👌👌 I

happily give some recommendations .

There's one which give me Miles Quaritch x reader/oc vibes 😏

Obviously if you love big blue aliens (Na'vi)

You gotta check out Ice Planet Barbarians by Ruby Dixon

You can also go on the tag #iceplanetbarbarians and you'll find memes and art. It's a big fandom for this series.

There's a spinofff series of this called CORSAIR Brothers

And the first book ADIRON

Has a hilarious hero who's goofy and a himbo. Personal favourite 👌

Next if you want aliens who are very Na'vi like in culture but also don't hesitate to use technology then this one is for you

The Ash Planet Warriors

It's a spin off of the series Garrison Earth.

There are three races here the Vetusian, Jal'zar i.e The Ash Planet Warriors and Humans. The humans and Jal'zar are invaded by the Vetusians.

My favourite book in the spin off is this

Enemies to loves, political marriage. Here's a summary

I won’t touch her. But I will torment her soul. While the other warlords mate with the daughters of our enemy, I want nothing to do with these political marriages. Fate calls me north, searching for what the shamans say will complete my soul.

Now in the Garrison Earth series the last book is very interesting.

It's the Miles Quaritch x reader/oc fanfics but in a book 👇👀👀

Claimed

I conquered her planet and pillaged her body. Now I’m back for her heart.

A decade ago, I brought war to Solgad, home of the Jal’zar. I sacked the planet and slaughtered the people, all to save my race from extinction. Until one of their female warriors hissed defiance, promising me death at her hands no matter how her body longed for mine.

Each night, she came to end me, only to succumb to the raw urges of her mating heat.Each night, I gave her hungry womb what it needed, the way we coupled neither safe nor sane.

I was the enemy she couldn’t kill.She was the female I couldn’t have.

Together, we unleashed chaos.

Many solar cycles after the occupation, I return to Solgad, searching the ashen plains for her: my soulmate. This time, I will claim the Jal’zar female as mine, and nobody will get in the way.

Not even myself.

If you can, do read the entire series first if you want to know a little back story of the male character.

Now on to a villian from a different series

Zorus from Redeeming Zorus by Laurann Dohner.

Here's an enthusiastic comment about the character

Zorus, You Evil Bigot, M*ther F@cking, Sadistic Bastard!!! I have HATED You for SOOO LONG. Now I have to read your Love Story!!! Grrrrrrrrrrrrrr

Anyway here's what's he's all about: Zorus is a member of the Ruling Council that governs cyborgs. His orders are law and must be obeyed. But Zorus is a sick bastard. He hates humans with a passion, and has been an evil terror to all cyborg males that have attempted to take a human female as a mate. He has gone as far as ordering them to be killed under the pretense that they were Earth Government spies searching for cyborgs.

But in a way his intense hate is justified. It's like if a Na'vi wanted to kill all the humans and Avatars (even the good ones), and all the hybrid children, because of what the RDA has done in Pandora.

Obviously this book is part of a series.

I'm sorry this spiralled into Alien villains but here's the last one

The Fractured Mate

Comments on the book:

Halian was so damned evil in previous books, I couldn't possibly imagine how he could be redeemable. But DAMN if our author didn't come up with the absolute most genius, creative, plot twist of an explanation!

Again part of a series of many interesting alien characters. Best to read those so you get an idea of how bad Halian is.

Now three other good alien books (not a villain main character)

Heart's Prisoner by Olivia Riley

He's not like anything Lana has ever encountered.

Asset X: Massive, deadly, a little terrifying to say the least. A devilish warrior. And a killer. Captured on a hellish world after attacking a military campsite and now imprisoned in a state-of-the-art cell inside one of the military’s top bases--Lazris.

And Lana has been assigned to "study" him. To learn his secrets and gain his trust, if he is ever allowed to set foot out of his cell. As a top behaviorist, it is the biggest hurdle of her career.

Very alien looking hero and mostly from the FMC point of view so there's a whole lot of mystery around him and what he's thinking. When we talking alien this dude is very alien. Also, it's a slow burn. Definitely no attraction at first sight. Actually we're all terrified 😂

Next is Classified Planet: Turongal of The Darvel Exploratory Systems

Cottonwood by R.Lee. Smith

Have you seen District 9? If you haven't please do..one of the best Sci fi alien movies out there. Anyway this book has the same kind of aliens. And a sort of similar plot. It feels like a fanfiction if that movie but it's different from the book too. All the characters are well written and brilliant plot. If 'Hearts Prisoner ' hero is a 7 on the "how alien does he look?" scale, the aliens in this book are a 9.

Argurma Salvager #1 Broken Earth

☝️ Hero's features inspired by the Predator in Alien vs Predator movies.

Saving Askara #1 Saving Askara

This has :

First contact

Slow burn (almost all the books i mentioned are slow burn)

Learning the cultures (Ash Planet also is about learning a different culture.)

Anyway these are some of my favorites and the best sci-fi alien romance i love till date ❤️ obviously there'are many more that I've probably forgotten 😅