#its mild but better safe than sorry

[jakotsuto]

I wanted to make a fun edit. It turned into a AMV somehow. TikTok won’t let me upload more than a snippet cause ✨Copyright✨, which sucks cause TikTok is the best place for these things.

(This took probably like 6-ish hours to make.)

✨reblog to suggest what I should edit next✨ can’t guarantee I’ll for sure do it. depends if I like the song. listening to a song you don’t like a minimum of 30 times is not pleasant.

[12rabbits1trenchcoat]

beastober day 7 - they sent oku to the moon the other day

[zim-bug]

Compilation of doodles I either forgot to post or don't feel like cleaning up. We have some concept stuff for how I draw zim/irken anatomy, a bit of zimvoid stuff, and some silly... ocs? Sort of?

[that-jack-kline-bestie]

so fucking upset. i looked up what's considered concerning weight loss and got a statistic. i looked up the same question but specified teens and i got a bunch of articles about how to lose weight. what the fuck

[gummywormsandkitkats]

Painting while blasted out of my mind was a LOT of fun-

[neko-naruto]

"hey ace why is kakashi your fav-" its simple. he's got electricity. static shock, if you will. electrocution inducers, as some people call it

[bouquetofalliums]

wilbur soot's statement is the furthest it can be from an apology. its vague, baseless, lacks Any sort of accountability, and feels like some shit chatgpt made up. two pages, four paragraphs and... Not a single Im Sorry. and to think i expected any better of him and i REALLY DID. his response to his other mild controversies were genuine and decent at best. this just lacks Everything. i read the first two sentences and my eyes rolled to the back of my fuckin head

disregarding that the way he downplays his own abuse astounds me. because WE KNOW EVERYTHING. we've heard from the victim and there were Witnesses. you say you were snobbish, disrespectful and selfish, but aside from the biting thing; do you ever address that time you pinned her down to claim you were stronger than her although knowing shelby has gone through past sexual assault? how you weaponized her safe word? how you locked her up in your house for days? how you never cleaned up over yourself and made her do all the work? how you gaslit her and her friends and Humiliated her in front of them ????? no amount of therapy or change you've claimed to have gone through can excuse any of your vile behaviours ESPECIALLY when it comes WITHOUT an apology. you cry about how you've changed to us but you don't care at all! because it was all about fame and money to you, right? us and our words mean so little to you, right?

you could've taken more time to polish this and to come from a place of genuinity and none of us would have complained. rather you put out some flat disingenuous slop and expected us to eat it up. No! youve lost your devoted fanbase wilbur. if you didn't want your shitty actions to come out you shouldn't have been a shitty person in the first place.

whatever . i have more to say but i dont want to waste my words on him. im so so fucking disappointed in that man and i hope to never see his face on the internet ever again . to think i spent the last 3 years and more just blindly supporting and loving his music and content without thinking anything else of it .... i feel so sick . I feel so so sick

sending all the love and support to shelby, lexie, rhana, sophie, and to anyone and all who have been deeply hurt by his actions in any way whatsoever

[sanguineterrain]

hey sanne! hope you're having a good day!

love your fics soo much and i always jump up a little when i get a notification for when you post on ao3!

i have a request if it interests you! what if jay and reader get stuck in a hostage situation together? like at a bank or a convenience store or something? just obsessed with the idea of jason being protective and badass in his civilian identity!

thank you for your lovely fics! 💕

thanks for the request!

jason todd x gn!reader. mild violence, robbery, jason being cute and sweet and a little awkward as per, reader is guilty of judging jason by his appearance.

****

The bell above the door chimes as you enter your favorite convenience store. You haven't been in a while, but the older clerk still nods and smiles at you, saying hello in an accent you don't know. You greet him back.

He's a nice man, sometimes sneaking in a free pack of gum into your bag. Proof that capitalism hasn't squashed everyone's spirit yet.

Actually, you used to regularly stop here to get a treat on your walk home. Lately, though, the prices have been too steep for your meager wages.

Three dollars for a bag of chips is actually ridiculous. Are they 24K gold chips? Will they cure fear gas syndrome?

Stupid inflation.

You take a step back, thinking maybe the price will lower if you put some distance between you. Instead, you bump into someone's shoulder. You quickly back away, apologies on your lips.

Whoa.

The shoulder belongs to possibly one of the biggest guys you've ever seen. Even swallowed up in his red hoodie, he looks like he could bench press four of you. He towers over the packaged cookie display, which is what he'd been looking at before your misstep.

He's also wearing long sleeves and jeans in eighty degree weather, which is... a choice. Maybe he has an iron deficiency. You want to tell him but think better of it.

"Sorry," you say at the same time that he says, "Sorry, y'okay?"

His voice is soft and deep. You nod, and he barely glances at you before he tucks in closer to the shelf, as if anticipating for you to pass him.

Instead, you bump into the adjacent shelf and knock a couple Doritos bags to the floor.

"Dammit," you whisper.

Hoodie bends down before you do, startling you with his speed. He puts the chips back. He looks at you, and you look at him.

His face is young, nose crooked like it's been in a lot of fights. He has a scar traveling from his right eye across his face to his lip.

Never judging a book by its cover is great in theory, but this is Gotham. Judgment keeps you safe.

He's cute, though. His lips are pink and full. There's a smattering of freckles across his cheeks and nose.

But you're not about to interact with anyone more than you need to at a convenience store, so you turn around and hope he doesn't try to approach you.

And it's like Hoodie can hear your thoughts because a moment later, he goes to another aisle, leaving you alone. You relax and peruse the chips in peace.

Cheetos. Are Cheetos worth three dollars and tax, though?

Maybe just a drink.

You go to the fridges and stare, debating between a ginger ale and a Snapple when the bell above the door jingles.

"This is a robbery!"

Fuck. Fuck fuck fuckity fuck.

You turn and see a guy in a ski mask with a gun pointed at the cashier. The old clerk is shaking and has his hands up. Yeah, you're never coming back here again. Overpriced Cheetos aren't worth it.

But then to your right, you see Hoodie, crouched on the ground. He gestures for you to get low. You hesitate.

"Hey," he says, as quietly as he can. "I ain't gonna hurt you. I'm gonna get us outta here alive, okay? But you gotta trust me a little. C'mere."

Hearing him speak at length, it's clear that Hoodie is Gotham-born and bred. And he's certainly not from the Heights. His drawl is thick and, dare you say, comforting. It's old-school Jersey, like you could walk into a diner and find him chatting with the retirees. The thought startles you.

What was that about books and covers?

You get low like he wants and scurry over to him. He scoots back against the last fridge and gestures for you to do the same.

"This is the blind spot for the cashier," Hoodie whispers. "I don't think he saw us, so you'll be okay here."

You nod. You can't speak. Can't move. Can't breathe.

"Hey." Hoodie tilts his head to find your eyes. His eyes are a brilliant teal. What a pretty color. "Hey, y'alright? Can you make a fist for me?"

You make a loose fist. He nods.

"Good. Now..." He checks around the shelf. It sounds like the clerk is still emptying the register. "Squeeze your fist and inhale. Then release your fist and exhale. Can y'do that?"

You clumsily follow his directions. He makes the fist with you.

"Good, good. Okay. 'S okay. Nothing’s gonna happen to ya, alright?"

You have no idea how he can promise something like that.

"When I push this shelf, run for the other side, okay? And when he's distracted, you'll leave out the front."

Your eyes fly to his in alarm.

"What?" you hiss. "Are you crazy? He'll shoot you!"

"I'm really fast," he says.

Oh, okay. He's insane too. Cool.

"Hurry the fuck up, old man!" the robber shouts. "I will shoot you."

Hoodie glares venomously in his direction. "Can't let 'im get away. Ready?"

No, not ready, definitely not ready!

He pushes a shelf with one leg. It crashes to the floor. Briefly, you wonder if he's ever crushed a watermelon between his thighs. From the size of them, he definitely could crush—

Okay, not the time.

He nudges your arm when you don't move. You book it to the other side of the store like he ordered. The robber clomps across the store, leaving the clerk.

"That was stupid, guy!" the robber shouts. "Really fucking stupid!"

Bang! You yelp and duck.

"What's stupid is your aim," Hoodie growls.

There's a few grunts and a landing punch. By the time you get up, the robber is out cold on the floor. Hoodie is disassembling the gun and unloading the chamber. Then he goes to the clerk.

"Thank you, good boy," the clerk says, still wobbly with fear. "Good Jason. So good."

Jason. A name for your savior.

"It's okay, Mr. Kourakis." Jason keeps talking, but it's not a language you understand. It's... Greek?

Just who is this guy, exactly?

Mr. Kourakis nods, shaky hands grasping Jason's forearms as he steadies himself. Jason comforts him for a moment, then gently extricates himself to retrieve the money from the unconscious robber and return it to the register.

On impulse, you take a Mrs. Fields double chocolate chip cookie from the shelf on your way to the register.

Mr. Kourakis keeps talking, obviously panicked. Jason soothes him in his rumbling voice, picking up the shelf he knocked over with one hand, like he's holding a basketball.

"Sorry, um, did you call the police?" you ask, interrupting their conversation.

Jason glances at you. "No cops. They're messy and inept. I told Mr. Kourakis that I'll take care of this."

Your brows rise. Inept? Looks like your savior has a great vocabulary too.

"And by 'take care of,' you mean...?"

He smiles a little, the scar on his lip stretching white. "Not like that. I meant that, uh, I got a buddy who knows a Bat."

Right, of course. You're four blocks from the Red Hood's territory.

Jason touches Mr. Kourakis' arm and tells him something else in Greek. Mr. Kourakis nods, then wearily flips the OPEN sign to CLOSED. He disappears into the back room after that.

"You can go," Jason says, not unkindly. He types something on his phone. Then he shuts it off and looks at you. "You hurt at all?"

You shake your head. You're still trying to puzzle him out. He's the weirdest Gothamite you've ever met.

"How do you know Greek?" you ask.

You don't know why you're asking questions. You should just take the blessing and leave.

"Study abroad," he says around a smile, like he's telling a joke that you're not privy to.

"...Right. And did you learn how to disarm a robber while you were abroad, too?"

"Nope," he says mildly. "I take jiu-jitsu classes at the Y."

You look at the crumpled robber on the floor. His mask is off and he has a black eye and a drying bloody nose. You doubt they teach that at the Y.

"Thank God for the Y, I guess," you say, turning back to Jason.

He shrugs. "Gotta defend yourself in Gotham."

No arguments there.

"Yeah. And thank you for, um. What you did back there. I got—I've never been held at gunpoint, and I guess I just... I dunno..."

Jason steps forward and makes an aborted gesture, like he was going to touch your arm. He doesn't, though, instead just nodding.

"Don't worry 'bout it," he says tenderly. "'S normal to be scared. You did great."

Jeez, is this guy a counselor? He looks too young to be doing that, though.

"You didn't seem scared," you say.

Jason shrugs, suddenly tense. "Ah, I just hide it well."

"Oh. Well, anyway." You put a few dollars on the counter and hold out the Mrs. Fields cookie. "'Least I can do is buy your cookie."

Jason's eyes widen. "I—y-you don't hafta—"

"It's really no trouble! It's all I can do to thank you. Because you really saved our butts today."

You shake the cookie a little. Jason hesitantly accepts it, then glances at your money on the counter.

"You shouldn't," he says. "This place price-gouges. Chips for three bucks is insane."

You grin. "It really is! But I don't mind. I've kinda lost my appetite, in any case. You deserve a cookie, Jason."

He blinks once-twice-three times at your use of his name. "Oh. It wasn't a big deal."

Is he serious? He can't be. "Of course it was! You risked your life for me. Thank you, seriously."

You start to back up towards the exit. Jason watches you, a mix of bewilderment and bemusement.

"Well, I gotta get home. Feed my cat." You make finger guns. God, you're lame. A good-looking guy saves your life, and you lose all sense. "Thanks again."

"Wait!"

Jason follows you outside, cookie in hand. His mouth is open like he's about to ask a question. You wait expectantly.

"Um." He swallows. "Prince Street."

"What?"

"The bodega on Prince Street. I know the owner. He's got better prices. You can tell him you're my friend. To, y'know, get a discount. Not... not that I think you're—I mean, I don't—"

You smile. Jason cuts himself off, looking a little frustrated.

"You're really sweet," you say. If you were crazier, you might kiss his cheek. "Thanks for the tip. And thanks for today. Take care, Jason."

"Yeah," he says as you walk down the block. "Yeah, you too."

[multi-kpop-fanfics]

the kraken's girl

pairing: alien!Seungcheol x fem!reader

genre: smut, mild fluff and mild comedy. minors dni.

warnings: monsterfucking, tentacles, manhandling, unprotected sex (pls stay safe), double penetration, male masturbation, oral sex (f rec), dirty talk, multiple creampies, brat!reader, switch!cheol, exhibitionism

word count: 3.4k

summary: neither you nor seungcheol expected to blow up twitter after your sex-nanigans. but that didn't stop you from meeting up again.

Author's note: happy halloween beloveds! this is the next installment of Vodka Slime. major thanks to @gyuwoncheol and @smileysuh for proofreading and screaming in my draft loves🥰

disclaimer: the twitter usernames used in the fic were randomly picked, any resemblance with real twitter usernames is 100% coincidental.

©multi-kpop-fanfics, 2023. No reposting allowed. No translations allowed without permission.

Fifty thousand followers. Fifty fucking thousand new people followed your Twitter account within a single night, all thanks to the two minute clip you uploaded before falling asleep. 

Your head is spinning with shock and excitement, arousal coursing through your body as you read the retweets one by one.

“GIRL WHO IS THIS”

“monster cock at its FINEST”

“me when me when me WHEN”

“eating a brick wall as we speak”

“i’ve never felt more submissive and breedable in my life before”

You giggle every time you scroll down, biting your thumbnail and kicking your feet like a kid who did something naughty. Although you’re not a kid anymore, your tendencies are definitely on the naughty side.

As if on cue, you receive a message from Seungcheol, who also retweeted your post on his account.

cherry_csc: we really caused a ruckus huh

You rapidly type back.

prettylilfreak: ikr ppl were STOKED

You receive another message from him.

cherry_csc: we can always make another one yk? 

cherry_csc: if you’re down i’m down too

You rub your thighs at the thought of fucking Seungcheol (and his tentacles) again, but this time, you’re not 100% sure about filming it.

prettylilfreak: why don’t we discuss it over brunch? i know a place that makes mean choco waffles

prettylilfreak: unless aliens are allergic to waffles or smth

cherry_csc: if i told you i have never eaten waffles before would you believe me?

prettylilfreak: i’ve seen worse from you tbh

cherry_csc: ok fair point

cherry_csc: send me the address and the date, i’ll be there

prettylilfreak: cool, see you soon <3

You search for the restaurant and book a table for two, sending the info of the reservation to Seungcheol a few seconds later. You close your phone and let it plop down next to your pillow. You lay flat on your bed with a stupid grin on your face, your insides still squelching with need.

You turn your head towards your nightstand and open the last drawer where you keep all of your toys. 

Just a quick one won’t hurt, you think and grab the tentacle-shaped dildo, licking your lips.

If only it was as good as the real thing.

“Damn, these waffles are really amazing.” Seungcheol gulps down a hefty bite of his choco waffles.

“I told you so! They are delicious.” You mirror his actions.

“Although I think you taste better than the waffles.” He sends you a wink and you nearly choke on your food.

“Damn, no need to die from waffles!” He passes you a glass of water and you drink it all in one go.

“And there was no need to spit out stuff like that without warning!” You try to clear your throat.

“Sorry, that wasn’t my intention.” He rubs his neck awkwardly.

“Waffles and choking aside, I think we should pick up the conversation from where we left it off.”

“You mean the Twitter DMs? Sure, I’m all ears.” Seungcheol wipes his lips with a paper towel.

“So, about that….I must admit that I had one hell of a time with you that night, and…”

“And?”

“And I definitely wouldn’t mind if we repeated it.”

Seungcheol licks his bottom lip seductively.

“But I have a condition.” 

“Name it.”

“I don’t want to film anything for my account.”

Seungcheol’s eyebrows shoot up in surprise. “Oh. I certainly didn’t expect that.”

“Are you disappointed?” You toy with your fingers.

“What? No, of course not! It’s your account after all, you’re calling the shots in the end.” He reassures you. “Can I ask why though?”

“Let’s just say that I want to….experiment with you.” You rest your face between your palms.

“Experiment? What are you, a NASA researcher?”

“No, but you left some unanswered questions and I want answers.”

“Oh, so that’s what it is about.”

You smack your lips. “I’m glad you catch on quickly, it saves me a lot of talking.” 

“You need to clarify some things first, sweetheart.”

“I’m not so sure about that, Seungcheol.”

“I beg to differ, doll.” He purrs the petname on purpose and you feel a chill running down your spine.

You stuff your mouth with more waffles, chomping on them like a starved animal to avoid answering to Seungcheol.

“You’re so stubborn, but I guess that’s part of your charm.” He plays with his bottom lip as he watches the cutlery in your hands move with light speed.

“Eat as much as you can, doll. You’re gonna need a lot of energy for later.”

The fork and knife fall from your hands and clack on the plate as you try your best to swallow the bite in your mouth.

“You….need to be restrained.” You point your finger towards his face in a menacing way.

“Hmm, I can think of a way.”

“What is that supposed to mean?!”

“You can always fuck around and find out.”

You stare at the smirking man in front of you, contemplating his indirect proposal.

“You motherfucker.”

“How the fuck do you afford an apartment like this?!” You yell as soon as you enter Seungcheol’s home.

“I might be an alien, but I’ve been on Earth for over a decade. I think it’s enough time to learn how to make money.” He replies as he takes off his shoes and jacket.

“I don’t think I want to indulge my curiosity about your personal life right now…” You mutter.

“I know you don’t, Y/N.” He grips your thighs and puts your legs around his waist, carrying you like this all the way to the bedroom. 

“I guess your tentacles and cock aren’t the only strong parts of your body.” You grip his shoulders as he carefully lays you down on the double-sized bed.

“Not to brag, but I spend a lot of hours at the gym to keep myself in that shape.” He grins and rolls his hips against your crotch.

 You suck a harsh breath through your teeth. “If you do this one more time, I swear to God I won’t be able to hold back.”

“That’s okay, doll. That’s why I’m here -  To keep you in check.”

Seungcheol frees himself from the iron grip of your legs and straightens his back. You feel slightly intimidated by his muscular build, but the intimidation molds into heady arousal when he discards his clothes one by one, until he’s utterly naked.

“Your turn, baby. Take them off.”

“And what if I don’t want to?” You taunt him.

His voice grows stern. “Take off your clothes or I will rip them to shreds.” 

You swallow thickly and take off your t-shirt, followed by your jeans. Your hands shyly creep behind your back and they toy with the clasp of your bra.

“There’s no need to be shy with me, Y/N.” Seungcheol kneels on the bed and cages your legs with his muscular thighs. “Now, take off the bra like a good girl.”

You exhale shakily and unclasp your bra, you slide the straps off your shoulders and remove it from your body, your nipples perking up.

“Perfect. So fucking perfect.” Seungcheol mutters before he pushes you towards the headboard and climbs on top of you.

“Don’t you want me to take off my panties?” You ask.

“Not yet, sweetheart.”

“Don’t you want to slide your big, mean cock inside my pussy, Cheol?” You pout your lips on purpose and roll your clothed pussy against his naked shaft.

“I don’t think it’s going to happen today, doll.”

“What? Are you kidding me? Then why the f-”

Seungcheol shushes you with his finger on your lips. “I’ll make it all worth it, I promise. Now, I want you to sit across the headboard. Can you do that for me?”

“You better keep your promise, otherwise I’ll block you from my socials!” You crawl on the other edge of the bed with a grumpy look on your face.

Seungcheol gets comfortable against the headboard. “This is barely our second time together, but I don’t plan on dumping you, Y/N.”

You roll your eyes. “The way I’ve heard the last part so many times from other men.”

“First of all, I am not a feeble human, even if I have human appearance. And most importantly…” His tentacles appear from his back and slide around his thighs.

“No man would ever do the things I’m about to show you.”

“That sounds pretty ambitious to me, Cheol.”

“I am ambitious, doll. And meeting like-minded people strengthens my own ambitions.”

You flash a sultry smirk. "Good to know we're on the same page."

The tentacles keep gliding over Seungcheol's body, leaving a slimy trail on his skin.

"Remember when you asked me about my tentacles spitting stuff?"

"I do. And what about it?"

"Watch and you'll find out, doll."

You nearly gasp when two thick tentacles wrap around Seungcheol's thighs and hold them apart, exactly the same way your thighs were spread. 

But he doesn't stop there.

Another tentacle binds his wrists above his head, rendering him completely helpless and exposed.

"Sheesh, didn't know you had an exhibitionism kink going on, Cheol." You rub your thighs together.

"I've never done this before, so consider yourself lucky." 

"You've never jerked yourself before?"

"More like I've never used additional help to jerk off before."

Two more tentacles appear in front of him, one morphing into a literal fleshlight and the other approaching his rim dangerously.

"Are you sure you wanna do this, Cheol?"

"One fucking hundred percent, doll."

The fleshlight engulfs Seungcheol's cock completely and the other tentacle slides into his hole simultaneously, making him cry out in pleasure.

"H-Hah, ah, f-fuh…."

"Shit, Cheol, that's-"

"Nothing I cannot handle, s-sweetheart."

He bites his bottom lip when the fleshlight starts sucking his cock and the other appendage thrusts in his ass rather strongly.

You never expected him to pull off this stunt and truth be told, it has you soaking through your panties and clenching around emptiness.

He's struggling to keep his eyes open from how good his own tentacles are making him feel - sweat has started to form on his forehead and neck, his skin turning glossy.

"Does it feel that good?" You ask him, rubbing your thighs together.

"Stop pretending to be sympathetic, I know you enjoy w-watching me like this." Seungcheol groans as he digs his nails into his palms. "But yeah, it f-feels good." His thighs jolt with each thrust and suck delivered by the tentacles occupying his sensitive spots.

You're certain the fabric of your panties has turned into second skin from how much you've soaked them and you haven't even been touched yet. This is the first time you're affected by a man to this degree and you almost feel embarrassed. Almost.

"Fuuuuck, that shit is so good." Seungcheol leans his head back and his puffy lips fall apart, deep moans filling the room with the same speed his tentacle is filling up his hole. The fleshlight picks up the pace and starts sucking his cock harder and his hips buck up, but the slimy restraints keep him down effectively.

"A-Are you cumming, Cheol?" You ask him, "Because I might do so, untouched."

"Don't you fucking dare." He growls at you for a split second, but his expression forms into one of pure bliss as he finally reaches his climax, loads of cum being milked from his cock.

You fist the sheets beside you and bite your bottom lip to suppress your whines as you watch Seungcheol lose control thanks to his own tentacles, his chest rising and falling rapidly as he tries to calm down from his intense orgasm. The tentacle that was torturing his hole retracts slowly and your eyes fixate on the slimy residues all over his cock and ass. The restraints on his wrists and thighs disappear as well and his arms drop down on his sides with a loud groan.

Blond hair streaks are stuck on his forehead, sweat is dripping down his chest and his breaths are ragged and heavy. 

But his gaze still lingers on you.

"That was….fucking insane."

"I take it you…. enjoyed the show, doll?" 

You spread your legs and show him your drenched panties, a low whistle blowing from his lips. “I’ll take that as a yes.”

“I don’t want to sound greedy or anything but… I’m kind of suffering here.” You point towards your pussy and he gives you a lopsided smirk.

“I know you are. But worry not, the real fun starts now, Y/N.”

Seungcheol snaps his fingers and two tentacles attach themselves around your ankles, dragging you directly in front of him. You yelp when he puts his hands on your waist and he flips you over with little effort, propping your ass up and pushing your waist down.

He runs his hand from your waist to the curve of your ass. “Mmm, that’s a pretty arch you have, baby.” 

He squeezes your flesh and gives it a sharp smack, a gasp echoing in the room. You wince away from him, but his hand on your waist keeps you in your place.

“Stop teasing me and fuck me already!” You whine in defeat.

“How do you want me to fuck you?”

“I don’t care! I just want you to fill me up until I can’t think straight anymore!” You shake your ass in an attempt to entice him.

“I can definitely do that, doll.” Seungcheol uses both hands to rip your panties apart and throw them on the floor. He pries your lips apart with his thumbs and hisses when your slick runs down from your entrance and glides on your clit.

“But I might have to get a taste of that pussy before fucking it.”

He catches your honey with the tip of his tongue right before it falls on the sheets and moans at the taste of it. He slowly rolls the tip around your bundle of nerves and you bite the sheets to muffle your noises. 

“I want to hear your voice, Y/N. It’s unfair to hear it only through your twitter posts and not directly from you.” He actually begs you and it has you keeling over.

“What’s unfair is you trying to beg me to moan, when you know I can’t resist your pleas, Seungcheol.” You grumble, yet you push your ass closer to his face. “Now, I would like you to use your pretty mouth to- AH!”

Seungcheol grips your ass and smothers his face in your drenched cunt, his tongue rubbing your clit and his nose nudges your hole. You can feel the curves of his lips savoring your juices and you can hear the sloppy noises they create - pure music to your ears.

“So, mmfh, fucking delicious…” He purrs against your pussy, “Makes me wanna - umffh- keep you by my side forever.”

Your walls clench harder than before and so does your heart - but you choose to shove that piece of information in the back of your head. It’s a bit early for that, you think.

You let out a particularly whiny moan when he circles his tongue around your hole and he laughs when more of your slick gushes out, but this time, he lets it drip down on his lap.

“I don’t know what’s messier, my tentacles or your pussy?”

“S-Shut up!”

He slaps your ass. “Don’t talk back to me, doll.”

“Or what? You’re gonna rail me until I pass out?”

Seungcheol clicks his tongue in annoyance and musters the strength he has left in his thighs to climb on top of your body, as if he’s about to mount you. Your breath hitches in your throat when he plants one hand next to your head and uses the other to pull your head back.

“That is actually a wonderful idea, sweetheart.” His lips barely touch the shell of your ear, but his voice is enough to make your spine shudder.

You open your mouth to give him a snarky reply, but the oxygen is knocked out of your lungs when two of his tentacles fill up your ass and pussy without warning, fitting tighter than a glove. He lets go of your hair and cages your wrists with his hands, rendering you immovable.

“See what happens when you talk back to me, doll?”

“F-Fuck, s-so f-full….”

“Yeah? You have no idea how full you’re gonna be after I’m done with you.” 

You can feel his cock resting on your ass and twitching with need.

"Remember when you asked me if my tentacles can spit stuff?"

"Y-Yeah?" You try to keep your brain intact, but the tentacles thrusting in your holes make it hard for you.

Seungcheol presses his lips right behind your ear and sucks on your earlobe. His voice has dropped to a mere whisper.

"They do and it's all mine."

Your eyes start fluttering when you feel his thick cock slide between your cheeks and fuck them as if he was really fucking your pussy - even if he somehow does it.

The tentacles ram you almost violently, the little suckers gliding against your walls. You're at Seungcheol's mercy, unable to move, unable to think and unable to form coherent sentences - just a pretty little toy for a hot alien and his slimy tentacles.

And you fucking love every single second of it. 

"C-Cheollie, I wanna cum! Please!" You cry out, hands fisting the bedsheets.

"Yeah? You're close, sweetheart?" 

"Fuck, I am!"

"Go on then, let go for me." He kisses your temple and fucks your asscheeks harder.

You finally cum and it hits you like a raging waterfall, your entire body shaking and trembling like an autumn leaf trying to stay on the tree before it's blown away. 

"Hang in there, doll, we're almost t-there." Seungcheol's ragged breath fans over your cheekbone, his hands letting go of your wrists to grip your waist.

His tentacles come to a halt and throb inside you, pumping your holes full of his cum, until a few drops start slipping out.

Fresh tears run down your cheeks when the tentacles detach from your holes, wincing when the sticky mess flows out of you. Your moans are growing louder every time Seungcheol's pelvis slaps against the curve of your ass, his nails digging in your skin.

"Such a great fucking ass, all mine to fuck, ugh!" He throws his head back as he cums, splashing his load all over your back and ass, painting it white. He pumps his cock with his hand a few times before smacking the tip over your ass.

"Cheol…..I can't move…" You pout your lips tiredly.

"I know, baby, I know." He gets up and pats your head before disappearing from the room.

A few minutes later, he comes back with a clean towel and the feeling of the soft cotton wiping you clean from the sticky mess covering your back and private parts almost puts you to sleep.

"Hey, don't fall asleep yet, I need to actually wash you." Seungcheol gently rubs the towel over your spent holes.

"Will you carry me to the bathroom?"

He lets out a chuckle. "Well, it's not like I have any other choice, since you technically can't walk."

"I wonder whose fault is that, huh." You mumble against the mattress.

"I'm sorry, doll." Seungcheol swipes your hair away from your face, "Although I did enjoy fucking you dumb."

You support your upper half on your arms. "To be completely honest, I really enjoyed it - hell, I asked for it."

He catches your lips in a short yet gentle and sweet kiss, melting into his pillowy lips.

"We can always-"

"Repeat it?"

"No," Seungcheol picks you up in bridal style and carries you to the bathroom. "I mean, I would love to, but I would prefer to take you out on a proper date first."

"Oh? I didn't know aliens had romantic tendencies." You joke.

"There are a lot of things you don't know about me, Y/N. And I'm pretty sure there are lots of things I don't know about you."

"Are you saying you actually want to get to know me better?" 

"Yes. To put it with your words, I'd like to experiment with you."

You look away purposefully. "I might be a tough formula to crack." 

He carefully puts you in the bathtub and kneels in front of you, his eyes meeting yours.

"Consider this challenge accepted, doll."

[the-cat-and-the-birdie]

I just wanted to say that the way you characterize and talk about Miguel has actually really helped me with thinking about how to write for him 😭 genuinely I love the way you describe him as an actual like person and not just some sex addict or someone who's extremely distant and cold. I hope you continue writing mild Miguel because it's so refreshing compared to all the other shit I see 😭💕

THANK YOU THANK YOU SO MUCH!!!

AHHHHHHHHHHH THIS IS A MIGUEL SAFE SPACE AND LIKE- CAN I BE REAL FOR A SECOND???

MIGUEL ISN'T AN ASSHOLE YOU PEOPLE ARE JUST MEAN - A.K.A -

My Defense & Evidence of a Milder, Non-aggressive Sympathetic Miguel O'hara.

[This is a half-break down half rant about Mild Miguel, when we see Miguel's true nature, and what fandom gets wrong about him. I have my evidence.

this is shorter than my usual posts but I'm going absolute apeshit Miguel Mode by the end so sorry you have to see that.]

I think Miguel and Hobie are the two most complex characters in the film. Like - both of them equally.

It's just really easy to explain one over the other.

I feel this way because every character we see in the entire movie - Miles, Gwen, Peter, Jess, Rio, Jeff, The Spot, everyone - is forthcoming and clear about their intentions and motive throughout the movie.

When we're watching the movie the first time, we understand Miles motive, and Peter's, and Gwen. In real time. It's there and stated. Miles wants to save his dad, Peter wants to be a better mentor, Gwen just wants peace basically.

But when we're watching for the first time - we have no idea what Hobie OR Miguel is capable of until they do it.

They are the two we're surprised by. (And they're also exact opposites who somehow don't seem to be complete adversaries)

They're the only two within the film who we are left to speculate their motive, their drive, and what they'll do next.

They're the only two in the film who are truly meant to catch us off guard with their behavior.

Leading up to Hobie's big twist, there was a LOT of misdirection. I think the same is true for Miguel...but like..the fandom isn't picking up on the misdirection AT ALL.

I have a lot of ideas and thoughts about Miguel and his character and honestly I think it's the exact opposite of what the fandom sees.

But when its's Hobie, it's very easy to understand him, just read the wiki on Punk and you're good.

But I don't think anyone has look closer at Miguel yet.

I genuinely believe that the reason Miles got away was because Miguel went soft.

He was watching the videos of Gaby to remind himself why he was doing this - why he had to stand his ground, but when Miles started panicking, and begging to know how much time he had left - Miguel slipped up. He went soft.

And he told him 'two days'.

You can see it in Miguel's face when Miles is asking.

That's not the face of a man considering assault. That's not anger. He's wavering.

He didn't have to tell Miles how long he had left. But he did - why? Cause he thought 'I'd kill for two days with Gabby. A lot of people get less warning about death - Maybe he can spend those two days with his fath-'

and then Miles is like 'word?? two days to stop you?? iight im out also fuck yall' - which understandable have a nice day

But like......Miguel wouldn't have said it if he knew it would fuck him over. He didn't KNOW Miles was radicalized cause he didn't know Hobie had spoken to him. He thought that telling him might convince him. If he knew Miles was gonna run - there's no need to tell him anything.

He could've lied and said "I DON'T KNOW. But maybe let's talk about this."

But he didn't. He slipped up.

He's SOFT. Everytime he's mean, or angry - He has to think about it. Like when he looked at Hobie - and thought about it. He has to MAKE himself do it. It isn't natural to him.

Nobody else in the room was gonna answer Miles. Miles wouldn't have known. But Miguel told him two days. And because of that, that specific slip-up, Miles is trying to save his dad.

Why? Because he's SOFT. CAPITAL S SOFT.

Miguel is not a raging monster. Or aggressive. Or manipulative.

He's a guy who thinks he's holding the universe together with duct tape and a kid is in front of him begging to know how long they have left with their father and he tells them and because of that they get away and now everything he worked for is gonna emplode in his face because he had a SOFT SPOT FOR A KID AGAIN AND DID SOMETHING HE SHOULDN'T AGAIN AND TOLD HIM AND NOW PEOPLE ARE GONNA DIE AGAIN BECAUSE HE MESSED WITH THE MULTIVERSE AGAIN FUCK-

Like...yeah- he snapped. A normal person would snap. I've snapped for way less and a lot of other people have.

Granted, we don't go mauling children.

I don't know, I just feel like he's an incredibly layered character.

Because when he's ranting and screaming at Gwen like an irritated school teacher we're already like 'oh fuck you dude but also fuck you ;)'

so when he's right there doing things like this - we don't see it. The same way we don't see Hobie's stealing - because we think we have him figured out.

We don't see Miguel's tenderness.

Because we assume we know who he is - he's cold and aggressive and rude and hates Miles,

but like...is he really?

Miles is getting upset - and the whole conversation leading up to it Miguel has talked to him from a far, hands when Miles can see them. He's not trying to stand over him, or intimidate him. Miguel knows he's scary. He knows how to be scary.

He isn't trying to scare Miles. The exact opposite. He's trying to comfort him.

And when Miles starts lashing out - Miguel is genuinely surprised. That isn't the look of someone who THINKS he's about to hurt this kid.

He's telling Miles, hands up "Hey, sorry. I'm not trying to hurt you." He immediately lets go, backs up.

I just---- FUCK, PEOPLE THE MAN IS STANDING RIGHT THERE THATS MILD MIGUEL LOOK AT HIM

If you really really think Miguel is naturally aggressive, or angry, or cold -

If you write him that way -

I ask that you rewatch the leading up to Miles' escape. Look at his body language. Watch him, and look at his face. That's all I ask.

I just kjsjrghjkSIGHIDDGU I CAN'T STAND FOR THIS INJUSTICE AND EMOTIONAL ILLITERACY

HES NOT A GOOD GUY BUT LIKE....HE'S ... THE ONE YALL ARE SERVING...COMPLETELY DIFFERENT MAN.

He's SOFT. The same way he caved for Gwen after a little pushing. He caved for Miles after a little pushing. That's why he told him two days. SOFT

MILD MIGUEL, SOFT MIGUEL, WANTS TO DO THE HARD THING BUT FUCK HE CAN'T DO IT MIGUEL, HAS TO STAND COMPLETELY STILL AND UNMOVING TO NOT CAVE TO MAYDAY MIGUEL, MIGUEL WHO LOVES PEOPLE BUT KEEPS HIS DISTANCE AND SHUTS HIS MOUTH BECAUSE PEOPLE GET HURT MIGUEL MIGUEL MIGUEL

I'm going to go Miguel Mode.

If understanding Hobie was a house, the fandom is standing out on the road.

If understanding Miguel was a house, the people aren't even in the same neighborhood. We're in the next state over. Other side of the globe. Off base by like 12 zipcodes and 4 times zones

Mild Miguel. Please tell me you're seeing this.

Am I crazy for thinking that the slip up - of telling Miles two days - wasn't out of stupidity but PITY? SYMPATHY?

Because Miguel thinks getting to spend two whole days with some you'll lose is a BLESSING to him - not a curse.

Even though to ANY non-traumatized person - it would be a curse.

...... yo

Miguel stepped into Gabriellas life because he didn't want her to lose a father. He KNOWS losing a father hurts.

So when Miles is there in front of him, talking about not wanting to lose his father - Miguel KNOWS how he feels. Gabby didn't want to lose her dad either.

Miguel UNDERSTANDS. He's a FATHER -

HE KNOWS HE'S BEING THE BAD GUY HE KNOWS ITS WRONG NOT TO STEP IN THATS WHY HE STEPPED IN FOR GABRIELLA IN THE FIRST PLACE THIS ISN'T THE PERSON HE WANTS TO BE OR THOUGHT HE'D BECOME YOU PEOPLE ARE MEAN AND HORNY -

I- I can't even i'm sorry I -

I have a longer post about this in the works like breaking down all of his body language from his moments with MJ and Hobie and like teverything

but ITS NOT EVEN LIKE I THINK HE'S RIGHT I JUST CANT STAND PEOPLE BEING THIS WRONG ABOUT IT I CANT

If you see him as aggressive or cold this post isn't meant to be an attack. I am just down bad for Mild Miguel and I'm going delirious with hunger and starvation for him

#Justice4MildMiguel Maybe I'm huffing copium but also i know im fucking not he's RIGHT THERE

[And if you hate Miguel like hate hate him Moche says dishonor on you dishonor on your cow dishonor your family and your land in the name of Aia Paec Almighty]

If you made it this far....Imsorry you had to see me that way I don't know what came over me here's a picture of Hobie to help me calm down.

(aka Hobie judging the fuck outta me in my head)

I need a glass of water. Bye.

[idle-daydreams]

Demon King

Tw: Yandere, kidnapping, mentions of murder, blood and violence, dub-con, non-con, mild(?) smut

A fire roared in a corner of the cavern, casting dancing shadows upon its stone walls. The air was scented with the metallic tang of blood, wafting from the carcass of the boar lying out outside the entrance. You cowered in the corner, trembling like a leaf before a storm.

As he gazed down at you, Chuuya felt a primal hunger rise within him.

“There, there,” he purred, reaching out to stroke your hair. “Everything’s gonna be all right.”

You flinched from his touch. Chuuya smiled. How cute.

“Is it the blood?” He looked at his bloodstained fingers, ending in black, claw-like nails. “Sorry about that. I didn’t get a chance to wash off.”

Your eyes flickered towards him, glinting through the dark curtain of your hair. Fear radiated off of you, the unmitigated terror of a prey caught in the jaws of a predator.

  As you squirmed, trying to shrink further into yourself, Chuuya reached out to grasp your neck. 

“Hey,” he said. “Hey, look at me.”

The look in your doe-like eyes nearly made him melt – anxiety, apprehension, artless innocence, framed in orbs red-rimmed from countless tears. Your pulse pattered erratically under his fingers, hands fluttering around his wrist in a bewildered effort to get him to let you go. It was adorable, like a tiny kitten trying to wrestle itself free.

“You don’t have to be afraid,” he said. “So long as I’m here, no one’s gonna hurt you. And so as long as you stay by my side, you’ll be safe, okay, [Y/N]?” He wanted to crow at the way your eyes widened. “Oh yes, I do know your name. I know all about you – where you live, what you do, how your pathetic family decided to sell you off for their own sakes.”

Chuuya suddenly loosened his grip. As you sank to the floor with a gasp, he leaned back on his arms, pleased with the fear and confusion fighting over your expression. Your lips – so soft, so kissable – turned into a small pout as you tried to make sense of his words.

“Please,” you finally managed, voice shaking. “I don’t know who you are, but please let me go. I promise I – I’ll give you whatever you want, all the money that I have—”

“I don’t need money,” he said. “I have more gold than anyone could ever give me. But I’m a little insulted that you don’t know me, [Y/N]. I would have thought you would have at least felt my presence and bothered to look me up.”

“N-no, I—I don’t know—” Your eyes darted nervously to the sides, towards the sake gourd sitting beside him. He picked it up and proffered it to you.

“Want some?” he asked. “It’s good, better than the bilge you humans normally drink. Don’t waste it by trying to attack me with it though – its not going to work.”

“Who are you?” you said desperately.

Chuuya cocked his head to the side. “My name is Chuuya, but you probably know me by my other name: Shuten-doji.”

You gasped. Chuuya’s smile widened, blood racing at the terror in your eyes.

“Oh good, so you do you know me,” he said.

“You – no,” you said, shaking your head. “Please – it’s not funny. You can’t be—”

“The Demon King? Oh, but I am.” He held his arms out wide. “Don’t I look like it? I’m better than any guy you’ve seen, right?”

You opened and closed your mouth, torn between dread, curiosity and awe. It excited him to just how much of an effect his title had on you, how much of an effect he had on you.

“You thought I was just some thug, didn’t you?” he said, leaning in so close that his nose brushed yours. “I do know my reputation amongst you humans, or rather that of my predecessor. A monster, a demon, a devourer of human flesh. A violent drunkard, a walking nightmare. Do I scare you, [Y/N]?”

Your face was blank now, moved beyond terror to numb incomprehension. Tremors wracked your body, chest heaving as your breath came out in little pants. You were so small, so weak, so fragile. A gentle little fawn, all for him to protect.

It was deliriously exhilarating.

Chuuya reached for you once again, grabbing you by the back of your hair. You whimpered, and desire ran through him once again.

“But I saw what your parents wanted to do,” he said, pulling you onto his lap. “You don’t think that was inhuman? Are you really okay with being sold off to that ancient tub of lard?”

“I-I wasn’t being sold,” you stammered, trying to squirm out of his grip. “My parents arranged a marriage—”

“Oh, please. You were sold. For less than what you’re worth, too.” Slowly, he forced the top of your kimono open, revealing the rounded mounds of your breasts.

“Please,” you began, flushing scarlet. “Please, I—”

“Be quiet,” he said, and began nuzzling your neck. You began to sob again, and the mewling sounds sent a new wave of ecstasy through him. He dipped his head lower, nipping and licking lazily at your throat and down your shoulder. Your skin was warm, as soft as the petals of a summer bloom; your scent was intoxicating, the taste of your skin heavenly.

“I’ve been watching you,” he said, moving his hands down your shivering frame. “Watching you work yourself to the bone for those ungrateful brats you call a family. I’ve seen you take the yelling and the abuse, watched you hide your beauty and your grace just to fit in with those lecherous bastards you call your village.” He ran his fingers up your thighs towards your inner core. A moan slipped from your mouth, making him laugh.

“You like that, don’t you?” he said, tracing idle patterns along the inside of your thigh. “Oh, I’ve been watching you, my love. Watching you waste away, like a flower blooming in some putrid swamp. You deserve much more, so much more than what any of those ingrates can ever give you.” His fingers found you clit, and he deftly flickered at the rosy bud. You gasped again, clutching his arm, and buried your face in his chest.

“Please stop,” you said. “I – I’m going to be married in a month. My parents need me. My parents need me to—”

“To be a virgin? So that the old slob they’re selling you off to can get his money’s worth?” Chuuya smirked. “Don’t worry about it. I already ended his pathetic life, for daring to even think of taking what’s mine.”

You started, a new fear dawning in your eyes. “My parents,” you said. “What did you do to—”

“Relax, I didn’t do anything to them. I wanted to, but I knew you wouldn’t like it.” He continued to gently rub your clit, sending waves of pleasure pooling into your belly. “Not that I had to do anything to them: they were perfectly willing to cast you away for the right incentive.”

“W—” You let out a shuddering moan as the haze of bliss deepened— “what do you mean?”

“In exchange for you, of course,” Chuuya said idly. “I sent them some jewels in exchange for delivering you to the base of my mountain. They did give birth to you, so I suppose they must be rewarded for that. And I knew you wouldn’t rest until they were taken care of.” He smiled at you, drinking in the glazed look in your eyes, the flush of your skin, the heaving of your chest.

“You’re happy now, aren’t you?” he said softly. “I’ll make you so much happier, [Y/N], I promise. I’ll keep you happy, I’ll treat you how you deserve.”

“N-no.” To his amusement, you still tried to push him away. “No, you’re a demon. You eat people, you eat human flesh, you—”

“That was the guy before me,” Chuuya said dismissively. “I killed him a few decades ago before I took on his title. Cannibalism isn’t really my thing. Alcohol is so much better… and the taste of you, of course.”

“But why do you even want me? I—” You broke off as white-hot pleasure ran through you. You cried out, arching your back, as the world went white for one moment. As the sparks faded, Chuuya wrapped his free arm around you, pressing a gentle kiss to your temple.

“Why do I want you?” he repeated softly. “I want you to be my mate, [Y/N]. You are going to be my mate, the mate of the strongest demon in Japan. You’re going to be the wife of Shuten-doji.”

[olderthannetfic]

I saw this in a summary today and realized words mean nothing:

please note that despite the mild dubcon tag, everything in these fics is consensual! Its just that the characters don't always state such things aloud, so better safe than sorry

Everyone consenting isn't dubcon.

Dubcon means dubious consent. It does not mean everyone being 100% onboard with everything from start to finish without a single doubt or moment of dubiousness throughout.

At this point why not tag it as noncon? I mean, despite their enthusiastic fucking, if they don't say out loud "I want to fuck you", then for all we know, maybe it's totally nonconsensual, right?

I hate everything.

--

[sardonic-the-writer]

𝐀𝐥𝐥𝐞𝐫𝐠𝐢𝐞𝐬

↳ summary: in which crowley has a cold

↳ warnings: none!

↳ song: like real people do—hozier

masterlist!

Spring was a wonderful time of year all over the world. It was when the sun peaked its head out from behind fluffy clouds and let the flowers bloom, washing away any gloom winter might have left behind.

Walkways suddenly became full of pedestrians meandering about in city's and small towns alike. Large puffy parkas were shed in favor of light jackets and shorts.

Shops were suddenly bustling with all sorts of people out and about, taking advantage of the beautiful weather to buy a coffee or new pair of pants.

But in Soho, London, one shop seemed to be an outlier.

If any of the passing foot traffic had taken a moment to peak into the glassy windows of said shop, an elegant sign reading Fell & Co hanging over their heads, they would have had the pleasure of seeing three very different people all talking to each other idly.

Even if the conversation was anything but.

"Really Aziraphale, you think he'd be a bit less chatty when sick. Peace and quite for once an all that."

A light gasp sounded from your left, prompting you to look at the angel next to you.

"That is not nice!" Aziraphale said your name full of disappointment, prompting an apologetic smile to spread across your lips.

"Sorry, mate. But I'm not wrong, am I?" You said while continuing to help him shelf books.

"Bite me." A lump of blankets behind you growled in response, a head of red hair poking out of one end.

"No, thank you, Crowley. I'll catch your cold."

It was supposed to have been a normal day. You had called and asked Aziraphale if this afternoon was a good day to pop in for a visit, only to be met with the sort of panic that could only be described as fretting.

Apparently, Crowley has never taken too well to the springtime. Who knew a demon could have allergies?

Each time he or Aziraphale attempted to miracle away the cold, it would just pop back up a few seconds later. It was as if someone had cursed him with a mild inconvenience. You wouldn't be too surprised if that was the case, actually. I mean, this is Crowley you're talking about. He's not exactly the best at making friends—even if he did manage to snag you somehow.

By the time you had arrived at the bookstore, swinging open the door as the closed signed clattered against it loudly, they had given up on any thought of magical remedies.

So here you were. Hovering over the sick demon with a concerned look. Er, well, Aziraphale was. You had opted for more of a quirked eyebrow, not willing to show how worried you were just yet. Lord, er Satan, or whoever the fuck knows Crowley wouldn't let you live that down.

"If anything Crowley—" You paused for a moment to flip the book you had been holding upside down into its rightful place before handing it off to Aziraphale, "—I'd say this is karma from all those times you yell at your plants."

"To hell with my damn plants!" He sniffled, sun glasses no longer on his face as he glared at your back.

Before you could get a word in edgewise, a sneeze sounded out from the couch. Without even looking, your knee-jerk reaction kicked in.

"God bless you."

You got two very different reactions out of that.

Aziraphale practically beamed at your words, and Crowley hissed as if physically hit, curling in on himself. It wasn't until you stopped to consider what you had just said that you realized your blunder.

"Sorry." You cringed. "Forgot about the demon stuff."

"Forgot? Remind me, angel, why do we even keep them around." Crowley spat, pulling yet another blanket onto his ever growing pile. You risked a glance back at him only to be met with slitted eyes. You simply let out a nervous laugh before scooting to a different bookshelf farther away from him. Better safe than sorry when it came to your demon friend.

"Because we like them, remember? They complimented my vest and your Bently, and then you asked if we could keep them." The angel responded. If he noticed how you choked on air at that last bit, he didn't choose to say anything.

"He said what now?" You coughed harshly at the same time Crowley groaned.

"Yeah yeah. A mistake in the heat of the moment." Was all he said before retreating further into the blanket burrito he had concocted. Somewhere in there was a quilt you were sure Aziraphale had knitted for him centuries ago, but you chose not to point out the tiny detail, instead filing that information away for later as a hidden smile played at your lips.

"As much fun socializing with you two is, I must admit you need to get some rest, Crowley. If we are to fix this problem without a miracle, the human way will have to do." Aziraphale turned to face his companion after you helped file the last pile of books away. You were quick to follow his actions.

Crowley opened his mouth as if to retort, but his eyes flickered from your face and Aziraphales for just a moment. With that he muttered something under his breath and turned over grumpily.

"Just—bugger off." His words were muffled by a dense pillow currently being smooshed to his face. You couldn't tell if it was that or something else, but his voice didn't sound as venomous as it normally did when talking to you.

"Alrighty then!" Aziraphale clapped his hands with a smile, none the wiser. "Ring if you need us, won't you?"

With that, he began to politely exit in the direction of the back of the store. Probably to go read a new series he just got in or re-read another.

You shuffled off behind the angel—only pausing at the entrance to the backroom after taking one more look back at Crowley.

Without saying a word, you took your phone out and set the volume just high enough to be heard. Setting it down on a nearby surface, you pressed play before quickly tip toeing out the room. As if that would stop the fallen angel from figuring out who left it there.

You slipped away just in time to miss Freddy Mercury's voice start-up. As well as the way Crowley smiled in spite of himself, starting to feel a little better already.

[plasticfangtastic]

american royalty. ch. 2

A Homelander x F!reader fanfic.

a/n: will post ch. 3 this week but sadly my other fic will be posted next week, enjoy this slow burn dadlander fic, and thx u to all the readers. prev. chapter:

Sypnosis: Homelander never wanted to remember you, but after welcoming Ryan into his life, he thought of you & the lie that tore you two apart. Now... thinking back, thinking of your betrayal-- was he perhaps wrong about who the father of your unborn child was? Did you perhaps told the truth all those years ago?

Tags: mild gore, angst, lots of angst, slow burn, fluff, OC characther, child neglect, dadlander, romance.

Chapter Two

Red

It had been a very long day, business was booming nowadays and since that influencer had made a couple videos on your pizzeria, you had been more than just busy, you began to run out of ingredients.

 In the last four years, the restaurant had grown, it had been there since 2002 ran by your boss’s father and his brother, who had ran their own pizza shop since the 80’s but as the economy and other events hit, they had decided to relocate and re-brand, now managed by their son– a man you owed so much, had his heart not been filled with kindness you would most likely be in the streets. So you made sure his restaurant was the best, you had accolades, you’ve worked in some of the best restaurants, you were once a very prominent fast rising figure of the New York culinary scene– until Homelander came along.

Your talent revamped the restaurant and now your food was once again on the spotlight, for the first time since you left Vought, you were happy with yourself, even if it was pizza. Cooking made you happy, and this job needed you, you didn’t live in fear of sleeping in your car anymore, you didn’t need to worry that your daughter would sleep on somebody’s couch again, you were able to quit your third job and go casual on your second thanks to this place, right now you didn’t live in the best of places but you were saving up and in a couple months you’d have enough money saved up to move, and send your daughter to a better school, somewhere were her talents wouldn’t be wasted.

So here you were ten minutes before closing, another extra couple hours of overtime for your dream two bedroom apartment, where it would be safe for her, where you could finally feel like your life had moved on from him, that the door opened up and your cashier squealed.

It was a quaint looking restaurant, the wood seating was new and the wall decor had been changed trying to look less cluttered, with Art Deco lighting fixtures as the stand out feature. The place had been remodeled recently it seems, the kitchen and its big brick oven looked clean but ancient to Homelander, he stared at the menu board and metal boxes of accouterments by the counters, taking in that this was in fact a pizza place, that you of all people did in fact work at a pizza place. You who could whip up amazing fare, now made greasy cheap slices, but he had seen people come in and leave endlessly these past few days, people taking selfies, and recording themselves with your food, nothing he understood.

He looked back at the teenager on the counter offering his signature smile as she blubbered her script, then as you took a step closer knowing you couldn’t hide in this open kitchen you finally looked at each other for the first time in seven years.

Your throat collapsed and your whole body became prickly and tight, your heart was beating so fast you thought you might be having a heart attack, you looked at the clock cursing that it wasn’t over, you were almost done packing the kitchen and readying for tomorrow, having a customer at this hour was awful but having him here was about to take you to an early grave.

“What’s your best seller?” Homelander muttered looking straight at you with an aloof stare, then back at the cashier– is pizza night at my house, sorry for coming so late hope that’s not a problem?” he said exceedingly politely.

The teenager blushed and looked back at you as if asking you to pinch her.

“That would be our pepperoni queen– is two types of cheese, extra pepperoni, with our signature house made marinara, with a dash of vodka sauce in our sourdough thin crust… chili oil is optional” You had managed to say trying to ignore those piercing blue eyes, you moved back to your place staring at the few remaining trays of dough balls left– our second best seller is our chicken florentine pie.”

Homelander admittedly detested pizza, it was greasy, gooey and heavy, it was fattening and gross, but there was a familiar aroma in the room, something that was making his mouth water lightly. Looking back at the girl, he ordered both in their smallest size offered, he sat by one of the wooden booths for the ten minutes he was told to wait, and not once did he made a comment, maybe that’s why your heart stung so much, why it felt as if you were about to collapse– that after seven years, he had completely forgotten about you, while only now did you began to feel as if you could heal from all the suffering he’d cause you, how insignificant had you been all along, how you love never registered.

You both had talked of moving in together and buying a home, he wanted to buy you a restaurant, and you wanted to give him your life, you had never loved somebody as much as he made you love him, and now you were just some bum wearing a graphic t-shirt making him dinner.

You packed his food, your boss Kaleem had given him extras on the house, practically begging for Homelander to give them a photo for their socials and you simply stare as he did his superhero thing, you took one of the delivery bags knowing he would lose the food if he flew with them in hand.

After the photoshoot, Kaleem and your cashier had run to the back to show the picture to the only other staffer left at this hour.

You both looked at each other as he took the bag off your hands, you wanted to cry, your eyes welling up but you looked down afraid of him, no doubt he could hear your heartbeat tickling his ear.

“It's been a while hasn’t it?” 

You could’ve collapsed into tears right then and there, it was worse to be remembered.

Growing angry at the sound of his soft voice, and that concerned expression in his face.

“Yes…”

“How you been? Didn’t think I'd ever see you again.”

“Should’ve killed me back then… got fucking close to it tho.” You dropped all pleasantries, hearing him talk and not hearing the word sorry 5 seconds in, had infuriated you. His stupid face, those stupid eyes, and that clown suit was too much for you, maybe it was the poor diet and lack of sleep but right now you wanted to ban him from Lucci’s– hope you enjoy the food.”

You pushed the bag jumping from the kitchen to the front as you headed for the door, holding it open for him.

“I’m doing alright. Now leave!” 

“You don’t even want to know why I'm here?” he was taken aback by your brashness, you had always been sweet to him, tender, barely ever angry before, so why now?

“You got a little kid now, I gather like any other kid, he likes pizza… and good for him because mine is the best!”

“Not really… I actually wanted to see you. I… I just wanted to ask you something–

“Mother!!”

Your daughter emerged from the depths of the kitchen, she carried a kindle in one hand and a giftcard in the other.

“Is it okay if I use my present now? They got some books on sale and you said not to buy more books until I finished… oh…”

In the light and in front of him, your daughter truly looked like your mirror image, copy and pasted into a miniature. Her hair just past her chin, and her bangs indeed covered her eyes, peeking behind those curtains were the prettiest blue eyes he’d ever seen, there was no unnatural shine to them– just blue. Her lips so thin and her complexion just a tad paler than your own now that he gave it a proper look, she was so small-- too small for her age.

“Is okay honey, is your birthday you can get any books you want” Your tone shifted entirely lowering yourself to take her face and plant a quick peck on her cheek– now go back with uncle Kaleem and let mommy close shop, okay? We’ll go home in a minute.”

“Is it your birthday young lady? Congratulations.”

Homelander threw his best smile, giving the kid a cautious pet, catching the rage in your eyes as his gloved fingers touched your daughter.

“Thanks. Is not a milestone birthday so it is not worthy of congratulations… seems inane to celebrate it” she looked at her mother with a jaded expression– " I'll go get my bag, have a good night, sir.”

Homelander pressed his lip as the most deadpan voice came out of this little girl. Her oversized black sweater and the black tights made her look oddly unhappy, but the kid just stared at him with boredom, no surprise or interest when she stood next to America's favorite son.

He wondered if that was an adult or a seven year old for a second.

He worried if the kid had told his mother about that other night, but looking back at you he went with 'maybe'.

“What’s your name?” he asked, still forcing a smile– "my… you seem like a smart girl getting books for your birthday.”

“Helena.”

The kid couldn’t muster the energy to give him anything but her dead ass voice, she began to walk away not caring for manners, nor Homelander.

“She’s… cute.” he said watching that tiny figure walk away and surviving after her second nsult– great pronunciation for her age, does she even know what she’s saying?”

“Helena is not like other kids.”

“How so?” 

You looked at him more tired than anything, rubbing your temples as you made yourself waste spit to talk to him.

“She’s a Supe… by the time she was two she could speak in full sentences, by three she could read at a first and second grade level, and by five she was teaching herself calculus and piano… she’s a genius; I thought she was a normal genius until… her other powers manifested– none of this matters! Just go!” You shook your head in frustration.

“You gave her V?” He said while staring at Helena.

“... I didn’t know what V was until the news broke out, I thought Helena was chosen by God! That the world blessed her with those powers, but when that story came out I’ve been wanting to ask you– did you give her V? but… if you didn’t… who… are you lying to me, John?”

Homelander looked past the concrete walls looking back at that little girl, he didn’t know what to say or do, before you could utter another word he left.

Ryan nose picked the meal quickly, glad that it was friday and his dad would let him stay up ‘til late, Homelander just dropped the meal on their new table and the kid was quick on his feet, the food was still warm, only now did Homelander noticed the extras, couple of small containers holding chili oil and freshly made ranch, garlic knots and a lemon meringue pie, it was too much but Ryan hadn’t hesitated to dig in, before Homelander could ask him to wash his hands he had ripped a slice of pepperoni.

“This is so good!” He said so cheerfully– gosh I was starving, dad.”

“I sure hope so, bud… let’s leave the pie for tomorrow…” he looked grossed out, Ryan sat opening up the garlic knot’s containers– not gonna eat?”

Homelander sat down to join him, the thought of touching all those greasy surfaces was making his stomach hurl, but he relented, taking a slice. 

He was young again, and you were there coming back with some drinks as he ate your chicken florentine, this was the same recipe, the chicken was so juicy and the cheese wasn’t greasy. Ryan was shocked to see his father sound so happy as he took another bite.

It was the first time they both ate together where they felt completely comfortable with each other, maybe it was seeing Ryan not pick at his food that made Homelander able to just talk, Ryan told him all about his homework, and the videogame he was playing, he really liked Fifa at the moment even if he himself cared not for the sport.

Helena watched as her mother stood silently hovering above the sink, you hadn’t moved much for a couple of minutes, your daughter more annoyed than anything else regarding this display.

“How do you know Homelander?” she asked with a yawn.

“Huh?” you woke up from your trance– you should be in bed, darling.”

“You too. So… How do you know the clown?”

“Honey, don't say that!”

“He walks around wearing a onesie all day… like a clown… like the rest of those super clowns”

Your daughter always spoke with a creepy maturity, her voice didn’t belong to a kid.

“... He used to be my boss��� he was a really bad boss…”

“You used to work for Vought?” She softened her stand.

“Honey… I don’t really want to talk about this… it's late and we are going to the museum tomorrow so you should get some sleep, mommy is just tired… hope you had a good birthday.”

“You should rest too, mother.”

Your daughter's eyes glowed momentarily turning th blinkers off before she made her way to bed, you stared at her door, thinking if she could see you.

No mother should think their child was creepy, Helena was just difficult and abrasive, to be a small kid with her brain must be unbearable. You could recall the moment she asked you about V so vividly, she looked angry, but you had no honest answer to give her, you had to lie, god knows if you got the details right about how these people committed these crimes. Helena simply had no ability to relate to people, and without the funds you couldn’t help her meet her potential, not while you were both stuck living in public housing, not while scraping every penny.

Her few friends forced her to dumb down and even they found her uneasy, only the old people seemed to handle her best, she loved to listen, and her teachers always thought of her as  a delight, yet she knew no other Supe beside herself, those pageants were expensive, and networking meetings were hard to get in, talent agencies were costly– having a super-abled kid and trying to make them into a Supe was locked behind a massive paywall, all you could hope was that her genius would let her enter a university early on scholarships.

There was always Godolkin, but god knows if they would let her enter at a young age.

It would be easy if her father was involved, if John was there in her life, she would have the world but he didn’t want her, he had made that clear years ago.

So why did he lie about the V? 

It had been two weeks since you seen Homelander, but he saw you a lot, he'd come back and forth-- watching you and the child with ardent curiosity, seeing you made him reminisce, of those many nights and afternoons, of the way no matter how tired you were, you always made sure to look happy when he showed up, the way you looked so at peace while cooking, of the feel of your skin against his and the taste of your precious lips as you kissed him good morning. 

He followed you, on your only day off as you took Helena around the city, watching you share a slice of overprice cake while taking notes, and ate cheap chinese for lunch, you waited for two hours as Helena played chess and checkers with some oldies at a chess shop, some russian man gave her lessons-- some of these people dressed nicely perhaps pros. Some won over her and some lost but the games were quick, your daughter seemed happier when she loss than when winning.

Something about that didn’t sit well with Homelander.

Somehow he found himself in your apartment, cracking open the window to sneak in while you headed back home– the tiny apartment felt more like a closet than a habitable space, the ceilign was run down, and the appliances ancient but well kept, your bedroom was simple, cooking books and boxes sat on top of your dressers, a single’s bed with plush comforters and pillows stuck against the wall, with a wardrobe in front of it, and a cheap fan tucked in the corner. He left for your daughter’s room just a few feet away divided by the bathroom were most of the clutter and laundry lived, her bedroom was just as plain, but the books didn’t seem fit for a small child, her desk tidy and organized, he picked up a notebook from the pile, seeing math equations that hurt his eyes within seconds. All her stuff were nice and new, she had a decent computer on top of her bed, an old dresser, but there was an absence of toys– compared to Ryan’s bedroom that was filled with anything he wanted and decorated expertly. A clock adorned her walls but not much else, the few things that looked messy was a tiny plastic chess set, the kind with magnets on the bottom, and some DIY stem kits.

He took to the bathroom, it was old and falling apart, mold was growing in the corner much to Homelander’s disgust, trolley held dozens of beauty stuff and shampoos and detergents, a shelf on the wall held towels and toilet rolls. Homelander looked at a sparkly hairbrush, picking a couple strands of lost hair knowing by their lengths and color that they weren’t yours, and cursing himself for doing this as he place them on small plastic bag he had hid in his glove.

[theres-an-endless-starry-sky]

Just a little something I thought of, don’t know if it counts as a microfic... I've never done one before... Its slightly... long???? I think I'm suppose to tag @jegulus-microfic ? Sorry if thats wrong!!! lemme know what you think! (ill probably post this on ao3 actually.... maybe an extended version?? lemme know??)

——

The wedding was loud as guests swung around the large dance floor. Regulus avoided them, moving to the side of the room, a cup grasp in his hand.

It was the wedding a cousin of James, who's name entirely escaped Regulus even now after hearing it several times. James himself was off dancing somewhere in the middle of the crowd, every now and again Regulus would catch a glimpse of him either spinning or being spun by some one.

It didn't bother Regulus as much as James thought it would have when he had asked, but in all honestly, Regulus wasn't big on dancing. Besides the only dances he really knew were the more traditional ones which would stick out like a sore thumb here and really didn't fit the beat.

"Having fun?"

Whipping around, wine nearly sloshing over the rim of his glass, Regulus came face to face with Euphemia Potter. The current Matriarch of the Potter family, Lady Potter and James' Mother.

They spoke often, so Regulus let the true easy smile he saved for people he actually liked fall across his face, replacing the look of mild interest he held before.

"Ah, yes. It's a lovely event."

"Good, I'm glad you're enjoying it." Euphemia's eyes shone with something that Regulus couldn't quiet identify as she looked between Regulus and her son, who was, by now, loudly singing along to the song while spinning around with yet another cousin.

They stood there for a moment, both sipping their respective drinks as Fleamont joined his son in the impromptu karaoke, along with a few other guests. Bending over their wands while they yelled the lyrics, while others clapped along to the accompanying music.

"When you and James get married, I think it may be best to get some dance lessons before hand." Regulus choked on his wine. Marriage wasn't something that had even come up in conversation before, not seriously at least. And defiently when Sirius wasn't around.

He knew that eventually James did want to get married, he had mentioned it in passing before. But for Regulus, the thought of getting married made him... not ill, but defiently not bursting at the seems with joy.

He loved James. And would love him forever. He could stay with him until his death and he would be happy, but the idea of actually 'tying the knot' was something that made his throat close over.

Something else stood out in Euphemia's words however, and it was better to focus on that than the thought of marriage right now.

"When?"

Smiling at him, Euphemia placed a hand on Regulus' arm and spoke;

"Of course when. The stars in you twos eyes are more than enough to fill the night sky."

A pause as a thought occurred to her;

"At least twice over at that."

Taking a sip from her own glass, she nodded to herself before motioning to Fleamont who had just fallen over trying to dance, though Regulus wouldn't call it that.

"I better go see if he's alright."

Calling over her shoulder, "Stay safe, dear!", before vanishing into the now huddling crowd leaving Regulus alone with his half filled wine glass.

When.

James, in an attempt to distract from his fathers fall was now attempting the same move his father had just fallen from. Smiling, Regulus took another sip as the sounds of laughter echoed through the room.

Maybe he didn't mind the thought of marriage after all.

[contentloadingandstuff]

Bounty Of The Heart - Bounty Hunter!Male!Reader x Candace

A/N: This is a long one. Hope you enjoy! CW: Mild violence, moral ambiguity. Themes: Enemies to lovers.

They say Sumeru is a nation of wisdom. A peaceful people who, with their gentle Archon above them, pursue to examine the world and contain its secrets within tomes, fathomed by both human and divine mind. 

They are wrong. 

Mora and fame are the true pursuits of the men and women of Sumeru. Science is only a means of achieving wealth and status, different from sell-swording only by the lack of physical violence. Those who can navigate the maze of dusty tomes and old, bearded, complaining professors can achieve a high position and see eight figures on their monthly pay. But to reach this level, one must have determination and a patience of cold steel. And you? Had neither of those things when you were young. 

You craved money, but also adventure. You just couldn't force yourself to sit down and study boring and mostly irrelevant information, only to pass a test unreflective of your actual knowledge. You needed something more - adrenaline. Just like many other young and inexperienced men, you decided to join the Eremites. The promise of gold and fame lured you in quite effectively. Clad in red, you served a few years in that organization. You were immediately picked up by some scruffy-looking old man, assigned to a sizable band, and sent into the desert. Even if you were fully aware of how dangerous and harsh the conditions were, you could hardly adjust to them at first. Especially that the pay was surprisingly meager. But you served nonetheless, gaining valuable experience and learning the craft. The first kill was quite shocking, but the more blood there was on your hands, the less you cared. You put in three hundred percent, but you never rose that much in the ranks. Your efforts were never appreciated, and you didn't enjoy that. So, you faked your death on one mission and moved on to make a name for yourself. 

Surprisingly, contracts weren’t that difficult to find, even right from the start. The jobs were dangerous, there was scarce information, but the pay was mostly better than you received in the Eremites, especially that you didn’t have to hand the lion’s share to your superiors. If not for your skill, determination - and mostly just pure luck - you would have already shared the fate of many like you. 

Time flew by. You completed job after job, killing monsters and humans alike. The majority of your earnings went towards upgrades of your weaponry and armor, and it’s not like you could afford a lavish lifestyle. You had the money, yes, but flaunting your wealth would attract unwanted attention. You may have kept your true identity a secret from both your victims and contractors, but it’s better safe than sorry after all. In spite of what the amount of mercs in Sumeru may suggest, it was hard to find equipment that would meet the demands of both dense, humid jungles and barren, scorching deserts. You picked a mixed armor set of mostly hardened leather, cloth and a chestplate, coupled with an armored but fairly cool helmet. You made sure to use dark green cloth and paint to outfit the set specifically for jungle bounties, also buying a separate second set with various modifications - like fingerless gloves and a Hydro-infused chest piece - for the deserts.

Many prideful Vision Holders reject the crossbow, labeling it as a weapon much more primitive and crude than the bow. You gladly showed some who happened to be your targets that it all depends on who uses it - a perfect shot in between the ribs from a hundred meters is nothing to scoff at, after all. The only minus was that reloading it is fairly difficult and requires plenty of strength. It’s all worth the armor piercing capabilities though, no doubt about that. You purchased two flintlocks and one high-caliber buckshot and kept them sealed tightly in your pouches so as to not let any humidity or sand break them. They were high quality and expensive, even by your standards - Fontainian quality costs.

The selection of a melee weapon was a fairly problematic matter. You weren’t a Vision Bearer - at least not back then - so there was no way to just make the weapon disappear and appear on demand. You needed something universal, hard hitting and able to be wielded with just one hand. You picked a hand ax as your main weapon, and it served you well ever since you first used it. It was wonderful both against humans and monsters, and could help by chopping firewood or hacking hunted animals apart on longer commissions. Even when you finally managed to snatch a dying Vision of one of your targets and claim it for yourself, your preference stuck. Quite soon just the image of your signature steel weapon prompted a quieter tone and wary looks from the people discussing you. 

With such a kit, hardly anything was a challenge. No matter if human or monster, you hunted it down for the right price. After some practice, you managed to form a routine on equipment management and optimize your spendings to secure even more funds for yourself. This in turn allowed you to afford your own house. The location you chose was the desert. People there weren’t very nosy and often dabbled in the gray area of the law, which went by a few rules, one of them being a saying regarding why ignorance is bliss. Aaru Village was welcoming, especially that few were interested in buying property there due to the harsh conditions, borderline unbearable to the jungle dwellers. For a sizable amount of ill gotten Mora you purchased a decrepit storage building and, with some creativity and patience, transformed it into a cozy base of operations. 

You rested and maintained your equipment by day, and went to do your job by night. Quite the comfortable routine, maybe minus the cleaning of blood from your clothes. The jobs were plenty, but under many names since you never officially introduced yourself under a specific alias. It's not like the people could come up with anything suited to your tastes anyway. With time and a lack of reinforcement, these tags faded away, replaced by just your occupation - bounty hunter. If one were to ask for a chance to contact you in the right places, they would ask for not ‘a’ hunter, but ‘the’ hunter, and you responded. When the money was worth your time, of course. 

Your nighttime activities didn't go unnoticed, however. How could they fly under the watchful eyes of Candace, defender of Aaru Village, descendant of Al-Ahmar? 

It took only a bit of observation from a considerable distance - which wasn't hard for Candace, a desert dweller since birth - and a conversation with Dehya to learn who you are. She wouldn't mind (that much) if you were just another smooth-brained run-of-the-mill mercenary, looking for luck in the endless sands. But someone like you? If the tales she heard about your deeds, you were a dangerous, very dangerous man. Candace made many enemies amongst the Eremites, who would have no qualms about raising funds to pay for her head. Candace’s concern only grew the more she stalked you. The sheer brutal efficiency you showed was nothing to scoff at, especially that you seemed to slaughter both monsters and men with the same emotionless professionalism. There were rarely any survivors, especially amongst humans. And if they were, you let them go on purpose. 

For her, you were a danger. For you, she was a hindrance. Ever since you first caught her spying on you during one of your clean-up jobs, Candace became a stable thorn in your side. You knew she aimed to protect her home first and foremost, but there was no certainty what she would do in your case. Those that threatened the village were dealt with swiftly, while those that weren't malicious were left to their business. Since you never attacked civilians or officials - to keep these sweet and stable contracts from both the Corps of Thirty and Aaru Village Chief going - you weren't a threat. Why then was she spying on you? An uncertainty, maybe? Her personal anxiety? Maybe fear or jealousy? It was hard to tell, but you certainly enjoyed the attention and silent respect, even if it was mixed with hostility. Well, you would more if she wasn't such a headache. Not only was she following you with unclear intentions, but she, as a respected figure in the eyes of the chief, could potentially break your contracts and cut your earnings. 

Even if the distant glances at each other over the dunes were tense, there never was a direct encounter. It was a bloodless and quiet conflict - a cold war of mutual mistrust and wariness. 

Your activities were a benefit, certainly, but they were far from enough to convince her to overlook your presence. Despite knowing his intellect, Candace didn't fully trust Uncle Anpu’s judgment. Your loyalty was a commodity that could be purchased by anyone with enough funds, and it wasn't as her Vision gave her a massive advantage either. She wasn't as cold hearted and ruthless as you were. For the moment, although with a heavy heart, she resorted to simply keeping tabs on your actions. Meanwhile, she used her spare time to get more sleep, finally go shopping with Dehya and relax at the village’s meeting house. 

Though most times she was drinking with either her friends or by herself, she has been hanging out with a stranger she met there, usually at dusk. He was about her age. Candace found him kind, well mannered and intelligent - quite interesting in general. 

You looked at her with a knowing smile while she was going on about what deeds she handled that day or what kinds of trespassers ended up on the wrong end of her spear. After all, you saw her in action more than once, always from a safe distance. But up close, you met a kindred soul with a similar sense of diligence as yourself, even if she didn't know about your true identity. Candace was a wonderful person to be around, and, soon enough, you found yourself enamored by her maturity, sense of responsibility and caring attitude. Although you introduced yourself under your factual name, you still had to maintain some sort of cover for your true identity. You fed her a story about how you were a statistician working for the Sumeru Academia. Although your muscular stature wasn't quite like that of an overworked mathematician you painted yourself as, she accepted it - partly because she lacked even the fundamental knowledge of the subject. Variance and standard error were things of Academia, not the desert. You could explain the basics to her and write out a few random formulas you remembered from your cut-short time in the university. Even if you developed a mild crush on her, work came first. After all, she was a potential enemy.

And Candace returned the feeling. It wasn't anything beyond a crush, but she did really enjoy your company. In your long, flirtatious conversations you discussed many things, from culture through history to recent events. The topic of The Bounty Hunter was a prevalent one, and soon enough you brought it up to Candace as if she wasn't sitting right in front of the perpetrator. With care not to blow your cover, you probed her opinion of your actions, and teased her a little by complimenting your own actions’ contributions towards the safety of the village.

This sparked a certain, unusual envy in Candace. Her crush was complimenting the work of some (un)common outlaw? And what's more, in an area she takes pride in? While not one to act reckless, Candace did allow her emotions to set the directions that time. The woman disregarded the additional self care time she had on her hands for monster hunting. Her plan was to snatch your prey from your hands before you went out hunting, cut your earnings and hopefully discourage you from working around the village. 

And she did succeed. Your professional wariness turned into a competition, as with less kills came less money, and less money meant less satisfaction. But what annoyed you more than the smaller paycheck from the Aaru Village Chief was the fact that Candace was attempting to root you out. And, on top of all that, the casual Candace was mostly busy or tired, delaying your official date each time you mentioned it. For the moment, Candace stopped appearing as your sympathy, but rather as a competitor. A competitor that had to be put in her place. You needed something more impressive, a proof of your capabilities and talent. 

You knew exactly what to aim for. 

Consecrated Scorpions, rare as they are, pose a significant threat to everyone that happens to stroll by their territory. Having feasted on the remains of defeated gods and absorbed a part of their power, these often ancient monsters weren't picky eaters, meaning it made no difference whether their food was Hilichurl, animal or human. With their terrifying size, elemental affinity and thick carapace, these creatures were nigh unkillable, even for most Vision holders. But you weren't most, were you? Such a proof of capability would fetch a mouthwatering amount of Mora and respect. 

And you? You'd do anything for fame and fortune, as that was your way of life. 

After giving Candace a cover story about a work trip to Port Ormos, you packed your supplies and moved south into the Land of Upper Setekh. Finding a massive, dangerous demigod beast proved more troublesome than you assumed. You knew scorpions tend to reside in dark caverns, but poking your head into each lightless crevice you found was far from a good idea. The creature could easily kill you, especially if it had the element of surprise on its side. You stalked the gorges and ravines by night, as it is the time when they are hunting. After a few unsuccessful escapades you finally managed to spot one, feasting on a Sumpter Beast. You followed it though the sunless hours, carefully memorizing the path it took when that oversized arachnid felt drowsy just as morning rolled in. The scorpion made its lair inside a sizable crevice underneath the cliffside. 

Upon relocating your base camp and concealing it behind sand-colored cloths, you started your research. Scorpions, especially the giant man eating variety, weren't your forte. There were little details to go off of when it came to common knowledge, and even scientific studies. Thus, you had to experiment. 

Your guinea pigs were the common, yet still quite sizable scorpions of the desert. You tested their sensitivity to light, sound, scent and visual stimuli. 

Just as you thought, their eyesight was exceptionally poor. They could hardly see where they were going, often falling into pits and cracks in the rocks, usually getting out thanks to their spiky legs. A bright, white flare could make them panic if thrown at them during the night, causing them to shriek and escape. When you tried this on your prey, with whom you've gotten quite closely acquainted with due to your constant nightly tracking of the beast, turned aggressive instead of frightened. Assuming the characteristic defensive position, with claws tight to its body and the abdomen raised, it prepared an attack, and struck the flare with its massive stinger. Interestingly, instead of the venom of its smaller kin, this one delivered a powerful Electro discharge through the stinger, scorching the sand and burying your tool underneath it. Soon after it lost interest and went back to its routine. But there was an even more important discovery. When it was in its offensive pose, a fact of its anatomy revealed itself. Due to the massive and unnatural size of the Consecrated Scorpion, the exoskeleton plates weren't tight to its body, creating large openings when it was ready to strike. A well aimed shot could severely debilitate, or even kill the creature. 

Scorpions, as you found out, were mostly interested in three things. Things that move, things that smell and things that are bright. This gave you enough information to formulate a plan. At dusk, you would lure a single Sumpter Beast into the small gorge near the scorpion’s lair, keeping it there with a pile of hay until the scorpion would wake and attack it. To make things more enticing for it, you would leave a burning campfire beside the animal. Then, as the stinger would be lodged deep in the prey, you would take the shot laced with a very potent horse sedative. The scorpion would pass out, and you’d have plenty of time to end its life undisturbed. 

It was such a brilliant plan, the fruit of a week’s worth of meticulous observation. So much so that you felt a bit sorry for it. But ultimately, work was work, and the creature would most likely appreciate your respect by ripping you to shreds and shoving your remains down its mouth. 

You set the ambush, and waited.

-

You breathe steadily. This is not your first time. Your gloves hands grip your empty crossbow securely - an accidental misfire would waste the precious poisoned bolt. You peer out from behind the plain cloth covering your dark campsite, spotting the oblivious creature unfortunate enough to trust you and end up as your bait. The animal is sleeping in the hay. You glance up, seeing the red remnants of sunlight painting the horizon. Any second now. 

As you check your equipment, a sound reaches your ears. Footsteps. Continuous, measured - human footsteps of a single person, off to your left. Even if your helmet is painted to prevent the metal from reflecting light, you still look out with care. Your brow furrows as you spot the figure walking down the rocky cliffside towards the fire. Though she is covered in clothes, you recognise Candace by her deep blue locks of hair poking out from underneath a fabric. 

You mutter to yourself. “Come on. Not you. Not now.” 

You watch on as she approaches the bait and examines the campfire, before walking over to the snoring beast. She stretches out her hand and scratches the back of the furry creature while examining the hay. Candace turns sharply in your direction, causing your heart to sink. She looks around the ravine, standing in place without a word. You let out the breath you held when you realize she is oblivious to your presence. 

Candace summons her shield and spear and moves down the ravine, sticking to the left side of the cliff. 

The side on which the scorpion's hiding place is. 

Though trying to suppress it, you feel anxious. She might just blow your whole operation wide open with her little trip. Why now, of all times? Does she have too much free time on her hands? Maybe taking contracts in her area wasn't such a good-

In a flash, a huge dust cloud raises up where Candace stood mere seconds ago. The bait wakes up and runs, kicking up even more sand. You spring into action, aiming the crossbow at it and ripping the cover tarp down. Screams and screeching resonate through the canyon as you squint your eyes on focus, using your elemental vision to see what's going on. You see the vibrant blue figure of Candace fighting with the hulking, deep purple shape of the scorpion. 

Grabbing the tranquilizer bolt, you take off along the ravine’s edge towards the ongoing fight. When you find yourself directly across them, you assess the situation. Even if the scorpion assumes the stance, you won't be able to take a clear shot at your bounty. Thinking quickly and dropping your main weapon to the ground, you pull out your high caliber with a trained movement. You aim it at the rough center of the purple abdomen, and pull the trigger. 

“Roar, mighty duel!” 

You scream, with a loud pained hiss of the scorpion following suit. Moving to the side and out of the smoke cloud the shot created, you pick up the crossbow, lower it to the ground, hold it down with your foot and pull the string back into place. You place the bolt carefully on the wooden body of the weapon, and take aim. By this time, the smoke cleared enough for you to see what's going on without using your vision. The scorpion was wounded - a sizable chunk of its carapace has been shattered by the bullet, enough for a good chance of hitting your mark from your position. 

Candace meanwhile was fighting for her life. She was jumping back, dashing between the claws of the monster in a tight dance of death. Her spear was a toothpick, and had just as much use against the Consecrated Scorpion. Now, wounded and agitated, the scorpion moved its trunk-thick stinger into action. The woman dodged the first stab, just barely avoiding being impaled on the massive stinger. The second sting, however, finds its mark. Candace manages to bring up her shield just in time to stop the tip from embedding itself in her flesh. The beast instantly tries to pull it back for another attempt, but it's stuck in the wood. Candace bashes her shield downwards, trying to break the stinger. While she struggles, and the scorpion stays still, you fire. 

The bolt lands in the damaged area, embedding itself in the exposed insect flesh. Your game shrieks and struggles harder, to get its weapon free. Candace fights with all her might as you grab a handful of flares from your belt bag and tie them with a piece of rope. She manages to break the stinger, causing the monster to hiss and back away. You jump down, flare bomb in hand. You recover from the fall and set off the flares one by one. Then, you throw it straight at the scorpion. 

It shrieks, using its claws to cover the six sensitive eyes it has. Candace, shield still raised, backs away towards you. You stand beside her, pistols drawn and pointed at the monster. Suddenly it turns and scurries away in the opposite direction, further down the ravine.

Candace is panting heavily, but you hit her on the back.

“Come on! It will be out in a moment. We need to catch up.”

She nods, and both of you run after the fleeing scorpion’s tracks. It doesn't take long for the poison to kick in, making it weak and slow, letting you catch up. By the time you two see it again, the monstrosity is low to the ground, claws lowered and stinger relaxed. You slow your pace, quietly watching as it slumps down, relaxing completely. 

After a solid minute of staring at it, you make your careful approach, making sure to keep your distance just in case. You examine the thing's mouth, making sure the smaller pincers located there aren't moving. When you confirm that is the case, you finally lower your pistols. Candace takes a deep breath. 

“It's dead?” She asks, voice raspy from the pursuit. 

“No. Just out. Will be for a few hours.” You reply, holstering the weapons. You turn to her. “You alright?”

The woman closes her eyes, breathing rapidly, and dismisses both her weapons. “Yes. I’m fine.”

She walks over to a nearby rock and plops down, trying to calm her body. She looks back at you with her blue and golden eyes. 

“Was this your bounty?”

You nod.

“And that animal? Was it the bait?”

“Correct.”

“I see.” She sighs, rubbing her temple. “Thank you for helping. I disrupted your hunt and damaged your prey, didn't I… I would offer to compensate you, but I don't think I have the Mora. If there is anything I could do to make up for this, tell me and I will do it.”

You smile underneath the faceplate of your mask. You move your hands to undo the straps, and pull the metal helmet away from your head. The cold night breeze is refreshing on your hot and exhausted face. You turn around. 

“You could finally let me take you out on that date we planned, Candace.” 

She sits there, wide eyed. Blinking a few times, the struggle to comprehend the new reveal becomes visible. She silently nods a few times. 

“Alright. I can… do that, Y/N.”

You turn back to the scorpion, approaching it with your axe in hand. From the side close in on the left claw, and give it a gentle poke. The scorpion doesn't react. 

“Or you can help me get the poison gland and some other valuable stuff out of this thing. I could use a pair of hands, you know.”

Candace frowns. “Ugh. Being elbow deep in insect guts wasn't my plan for the evening, but…” She gets up, and smiles warmly at you. 

“A promise is a promise.”

Thanks for reading!