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hazelfoureyes · 3 months

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The Radio Demon fucks a Human Sacrifice (part 3)

I deadass wrote part one as a one shot. Is this what peer pressure is? I love it.

It would have been easy to forget you, your soul was his anyways so the real fun had already finished. But that pesky video hit most streamed in 24 hours, he couldn’t even walk to the butcher without hearing you scream his name from errant phones. Surely there was a way, even from hell, to finish what he started and get you out of his system.

⟢ part1♡̶sidestory♡̶part2♡̶part3♡̶part4 ⟣

tags/warnings/promises: Alastor x reader, smut, soft Alastor, unprotected sex (duh?), creampie, edging a little, feelings, Valentino exists, Vox also exists, literally wrote this split screen with part 2 on the right side so I could line it up right like he does hehe, Alastor has a bad time

tag requested: @astraechos , @thekanrojimitsuri2 , @hoeforalbedo , @crazylazybabyk , @oddball08 , @lovingyeet , @just-trash-yeah-thats-it , @random-3455 , @alicehasdrowned , @des-deswain5621 , @coffee-colored-hopeless-romantic , @doctorswife221b

When Val released, ‘The Radio Demon fucks a Human Sacrifice’, it immediately went viral. The website crashed, downloads surpassed his wildest, horniest dreams.

It’s scary but also hot? ☆☆☆☆☆

Eat me Mr. Radio Demon!

I’ve never wanted to be a pussy so much in my life.

The reviews were all favorable, the comments rolling in, it was perfect.

Until Vox said it wasn’t. He had seen the video, but figured no one would care about seeing Alastor fuck anything. It wasn’t the success that got under his skin, it was the wave of positive attention it brought Alastor. Suddenly everyone was tuning in to his broadcasts, little miss princess’s hotel was busier than ever.

And it was ubiquitous. Every screen seemed to feature Alastor’s breakout role.

“I said pull it, Val!” Vox slammed his hands on Valentino’s coffee table.

“Vox, baby, you’re being really sensitive about this. I’m literally fucking piles of money right now. Actual piles of money, like, person sized piles.” Val took a drag of his cigarette, “Its good for business.”

“Would you rather fuck money, or me?” Vox’s screen glitched.

Val leaned his elbows on his knees, “That’s a really difficult question for me and I think you know that.”

“Augh! Val! Think of the big picture! That obsolete dickhead gaining attention means gaining power. And that’s bad for business.”

Val’s eyes fluttered, “What if we like, say it wasn’t him?”

Flashes of Alastor’s face fazed in and out of focus across Vox’s screen, your body flipping over, a mess of tentacles writhing.

Val took off his glasses, “Oh yeah, that’s pretty obviously him.”

“What is?” Vox’s face splintered back to the screen.

“Do you—- do you not know you’ve been like,” Val used his cigarette to gesture at Vox’s face, “just straight up playing his porno?”

Vox’s hands flew to his screen, “No! Fucking shit! What the fuck!!” He picked up a vase and threw it across the room, “Wipe it clean off the server! Delete it! Ban it’s fucking streaming! End of discussion!”

Val shrugged, he owned every bootleg distributor in the pride ring. He’d pull it and up the price threefold for illegal downloads. “Whatever you want, amorcito.”

Alastor was quite happy the video went ‘underground’ of sorts. The first month after you left, he was plagued by the sound of your voice. Everywhere he went it seemed you were screaming his name, every phone and television a conduit for you.

What really bothered him though, was the reaction others had to him. Where once sinners leapt from his path and set theirselves on fire to avoid him, now people winked and waved. It made his skin crawl. When alive, at the peak of his radio show fame, it wasn’t uncommon to have fans approach him in jazz clubs. But the decorum of 1930's jazz fans was a far cry from the brazen displays of desire from the citizens of hell.

“Perhaps I should have thought it through?” He mused.

“Ya think?” Rosie put her tea down, “Was it worth it, at least?”

He mulled the question over. Worth it? Well, he had your soul. Which is grand. But you weren’t even in hell to be called upon. What did he really get from the deal? Alastor brought his palm to his face, already feeling the blush spreading. Rosie's chuckle didn't help. He did get something. You'd been gone a month, and each day he woke up having forgot you existed. And every night he lied down to rest and imagined your eyes staring back at him. Did he want to fight you, or surrender, when he saw that look? When the silk tie had fallen from your face, slipping down your nose to reveal your intense stare...He thought his heart had stopped. For every ounce of resilience in your voice he found a pound of fury in your gaze. What poor luck Valentino had been given to receive you as an offering.

"Too soon to tell." He leaned back, finally dropping his hand.

“Well it seemed you had a good time… not that I could see much through the green glow and all that static noise. Really spoiled the climax with that move, Alastor dear."

Alastor’s eyes were saucers, “Rosie. Are you implying-,”

“What?” She drew out the word, “I thought you weren’t into those things so of course I was curious!”

He sighed, “I’m not.”

Rosie pushed the teaspoon around her cup with one finger, “Sure looked like you were.”

He crossed his arms, indignant, “You don’t have to have an appetite to enjoy a meal.”

“Message received loud and clear dear! I won’t bring up the subject again.” She cackled and changed the topic to the latest gossip around the colony.

Another night staring at the ceiling, mind ghosting over the idea of you. He felt like he his sanity was unraveling Leaving his bed, he stepped barefoot onto the grass of the swampy forest he materialized into his room when he moved in to the hotel.

With an outstretched hand, Alastor felt for your connection. He couldn’t see it, but the weight of the chain connecting your soul to him sunk into his palm. Curious, he wrapped his fingers around the invisible links and pulled.

With a soft green glow, you rose from the grass.

His breath hitched, he hadn’t expected that. “It seems our deal really did stick, didn't it?" walking towards you, Alastor dropped to his knees at your feet. You were on your side, unmoving.

His head cocked to the left, ears turned in. Alastor crawled toward you, rolling you onto your back and opening your legs. He slotted himself there, “Hellooo,” He took your face in his both of his hands, elbows resting beside your ears, “Are you… sleeping, dear?”

This is ridiculous.

Alastor inspected your face; peaceful. It was a new sight for him, he'd really only ever seen you in some kind of rage or lost in pleasure. His hand slid down your body, realizing you were in the robe still. He laughed, but realized it was for no one. "Are you really going to sleep, hmm?" He hooked his hands under your knee and brought it up around his hip.

Nothing.

"I'm starting to get offended, dear." He leaned down and whispered into the crook of your neck. "If you don't wake up-" He slid down, the robe open enough to let his breathe ghost over your stomach. He stopped. He couldn't do anything to you while you slept. It was void of any enjoyment for him. Without your reactions, it was just....pointless. While he did enjoy your performance in the studio, he was taught to show respect for those of fairer means. A sleeping partner fell into that category.

He reached beneath you and straightened your robe that had bunched there under your body. Placing your leg back down by your ankle, he began pulling the collar up and closed it snuggly.

He stood there for a second, looking over you. It worked. You're here again. His mother had taught him that the human soul was most vulnerable at night. When asleep, the soul could wander from the body and travel earth and beyond. She even said people could train themselves, and with practice, remember their journeys even after waking.

Kneeling down, Alastor pushed your hair from your face, "Don't forget. What fun is there in that?" The shadow beneath your body shimmered neon green before you were swallowed by inky darkness and Alastor was once again, alone.

After his mother died, Alastor was often alone. Most of his time, really. Well, there were people always around. But they were staff, or hangers-on, or women looking for a comfortable life. They were dancers and bootleggers and musicians. Which was fine and grand. But, they never saw him. He never let them, they never tried. He was the radio host. The great dancer. The southern gentleman. The killer. The cannibal. The deer in the woods. Not a single person ever looked at him on earth and saw him. Which was precisely what he wanted, and manufactured with his wide smile and good manners.

So when your eyes bore into him from that tacky studio set, and he felt suddenly naked in front of you, he knew you were looking at the him. You saw him.

It was worth it. Alastor was willing to admit that to himself.

Over the next couple days, he would randomly try to pull you to him. Through out the day, in different places, he would summon your soul and wait. Nothing. It confirmed his theory, your soul was only able to leave your living body while you were asleep.

In the privacy of his room, Alastor paced the space between grass and carpet. What was this feeling? Nerves? He hadn't felt nervous since he was a child.

But, what was causing him a pause, was if he summoned you and you didn't appear. Maybe it had been a fluke? Maybe for the 7th time in 3 days he would pull on that connection and be left standing there, alone.

Still.

He ran his hands through his hair, trying to regain composure. Finally, he reached out for your ties to him, and pulled you into hell.

He held his breath, unconsciously.

With a glow, you appeared again before him. He was quick this time to approach you, setting beside you and leaning close to your face. Asleep.

"Is this my foreseeable future?" He asked, "Staring at you while you sleep, my doe."

Suddenly, you opened your eyes and met his. Reaching up, you grabbed him with both hands and pulled his face into yours. Your hands ran through his hair as you took him in a frenzied kiss. Alastor froze for a beat, but when your tongue licked at his bottom lip, he was brought back to the moment. He pushed his tongue into your mouth, rolling over yours and reaching as deep as he could. He felt like he could unhinge his jaw and swallow you whole. He really could, if he wanted to.

Alastor swung his leg over your body and straddled your hips. "Mon cher, you've finally joined me." His chest was rising and falling with excited breath.

"Alastor?" You tried to feel your body, but it was nowhere near you.

"Don't worry your pretty little head. You're still alive and well. I've merely borrowed your soul for the evening." He looked down at you, and finally, for the first time in what felt like months, your eyes fell to his face.

But today, they were soft and out of focus.

"Can you see me, my dear?" He leaned down slightly, trying to read the look on your face.

"Am I dreaming?"

He chuckled, "Perhaps we both are." With an exhale he wondered if he had been holding his breath this entire time. "No, this isn't a dream."

"I don't understand...but--," You lifted your arms towards him, "Should I say thank you? It was fucked, what happened." Your voice was slow, words a little slurred, "But, I'm home safe and sound now. You did what you promised me. I don't know if I'll ever see you again so...should I thank you now?"

Your tongue felt fat in your mouth, heavy and delayed.

Alastor leaned down over you, "You don't have to say anything." He used his knees to open your legs, and settled there. "Unfortunately, you've become a little worm in my mind." His hands slid under the silk robe you hadn't stopped wearing yet, "I'm hoping if I finally have you, I can...whet my appetite, and return to my normal self." He felt along your hips, hands stopping when he realized you were naked under the thin piece of fabric.

"I keep remembering," you covered your eyes with your hands, "that big hand of yours. And I realize, you never touched me past that."

He smiled, genuinely, truly, "Exactly! You understand the problem precisely. Shall we both have our fill and be done with it?"

You moved your hands to touch his ears, waiting for him to disappear at any moment, "Please. I'm so tired of missing someone I don't even know." He removed your hands, and you held them to your chest.

"My thoughts exactly, mon cher." He adjusted his hips, letting his crotch rub against your core. This was the closest he had been to you since you'd met. It was dizzying, and it felt like his skin was vibrating everywhere it met yours.

A soft moan left your throat, causing his cock to twitch in his pants. Yes, it was you. This wasn’t his standard response to such sounds. Alastor sat up, his legs bent and knees at either side of your hips. Taking one of your hands from your chest, he placed a kiss on a digit. Then another. He kissed his way down your arm.

“So gentle. Weird.” You tried to focus on him, but your mind was still cloudy. The sensations were here but also so far away, too far away, in another lifetime all together.

“Was I not gentle before, all things considered?,” he continued his way down your arm.

You let your eyes drift to the sky, stars watching you from above, “More than him.”

His mouth went dry at the mention of Val, "I am many things more than him, darling." As his lips found your neck, he took a deep breath. "I can actually take my time now. No audience." He sucked a bruise, and released you with a pop. He presented two fingers to your lips, and without thinking about it you began to suck them. While you were slipping your tongue over and between his fingers, he moved to continue a trail of kisses and nips down your right arm.

"Get them nice and wet." He watched through half lidded eyes as you licked his long fingers. He knew he needed to remove his hips from yours, but the idea pained him. Finally, he took his fingers from you and swiped them over your entrance. Your chest jumped, so he did it again. He tried to push the fingers into you, but the resistance was more than he expected. You were wet, but tight. He let his middle finger slip inside you. So soft. So warm. His shadow tendrils allowed him some feeling but not this, this was something they kept to themselves.

"When was your last time, mon cher?"

Your mind searched for memories still left behind in your body somewhere, "In hell."

"You're in hell now."

"This doesn't feel like hell." You ground your hips onto his palm, trying to get that single digit slowly moving in you to come deeper, to become more. He replied by pushing in his pointer finger, erection becoming painful already as you let out a little moan. Bending them up, he began to make long thrusts past your g-spot. His mouth long stilled on your arm, staring at your face as you whimpered into the sky.

"Look at me."

Your eyes darted to him, half open and wet. Alastor felt his patience snap. Undoing his belt and zipper, he finally freed his cock. He ran his head between your entrance to your clit , gathering your fluids on him to ease his entry. Taking both of your legs, he held them at the ankles and set them on his left shoulder. With your hips slightly raised, he pressed into you.

With a hiss you dug your fingers into the dirt, body tensing instinctively. One of his arms hugged your legs to his chest, the other was now bruising your hips as he continued to push into you. With just his head in, he began fast and shallow thrusts. Every time making more progress into your warmth. The stretch burned, but the feeling of him forcing space into you for himself just made you wetter.

Finally, he bottomed out. He had no sense to still himself, shallow thrusts gave way to long, deep plunges. Alastor's breathing was filling the space around you, mixing with your own. Leaning back, he looked down at where you two were connected.

He withdrew slowly, nearly entirely, and pushed back in. Again. And again. It was intoxicating, how he felt himself melt into you. He'd had lovers in life, but never had he been with someone without a barrier of some sorts. Be that his well placed smile or latex. He'd never fucked anyone raw before. He almost regretted not trying earlier, as the sensation of your walls and arousal sticking to his cock and thighs was breaking him. Watching himself entirely disappear inside you, he closed his eyes. Everything was so hot, so tight, would he disappear entirely? Would he lost in the pleasure your body was so effortlessly giving? Was he the unlucky one?

Alastor pushed your knees up to your chest, using his body weight to hold them down as his paced picked up. You brought your dirtied nails to your own legs, holding on tightly. Desperately you needed something to tether you to the ground, keep you still against the twitches shaking your stomach and chest. You felt with any jolt to your nerves you'd fall off the world and drift into the night.

He felt the build up, his balls tightening and drawing in, he wanted to slow down-- he wanted to bring you there first but he couldn't stop the rutting of his hips. With a whine, Alastor's forehead came to rest on yours, hips smacking into you with a wet slap. "Look at me," He commanded again, and you obeyed. One of his hands came to your chin to hold your head still, "Don't you dare look away."

Struggling to keep your eyes open, he pushed into you with one final, deep thrust. His hands came down now to the ground around you as he pushed you into the grass. Hips stuttering, cock twitching in you. You'd never let anyone cum inside you before, the sensation of heat quickly filling your cunt made you tighten around him. "Good girl", He purred, jaw tight.

He pulled back slowly before bringing his hips down, sweat sticking to his forehead where it met yours. His pace was quickly becoming brutal, a hand finding its way to that little bud of nerves of yours. With rough pressure and hurried speed his thumb drew out your orgasm. When you came, you gasped out his name, craning your neck up to ghost your lips over his open mouth. As the pleasure surged from your center, you could feel your body again. He tried to keep his eyes on your eyes, but the overstimulation of your cunt trying to wring him dry forced him to shut them.

A light shone through his eyelids, startling them open again.

"Wait-!" He watched you get pulled away from beneath him. Before he could react, Alastor was on all fours in the forest, alone. Eyes wide, he pounded his fist against the grass. He tried to summon you back to him, to drag you to him but nothing happened.

He thought he'd gone crazy. Hands came to his head, smile pained as he tried to process what he was feeling.

No.

Not enough.

Too soon.

A growl ripped through his chest. This hadn't satiated him at all. No, he was worse off now. He was starved, he had nourishment ripped from his mouth and he as angry for it. Angry to hell, to Valentino, to the conditions of owning a living soul.

He did not even attempt to rest that night. Taking his time, he had to find composure again. Alastor managed to pull himself together after several hours of self isolation. After his heart stopped racing, after his hands stopped feeling phantom skin beneath them, he calmed his smile and went about his day.

When night returned, he couldn't help but stare into the forest domain. He wanted so badly to bring you to himself, but that want was terrifying. It was overpowering him, and he couldn't accept that.

Another night left, another day passed. Husk found Alastor's cruelty to be growing, his patience giving out at the smallest perceived slight. Angel stopped engaging entirely. Charlie found herself wanting to approach him, find out why it seemed his hair was always standing on end, his eyes sharp. But, she didn't. She couldn't. Alastor would pass through the halls like a raging specter. He wouldn't slow or acknowledge anyone.

He managed a week. Satisfied with his resolve, he waited for when night fell and he was sure you'd be deep asleep, yanked your soul from your body and into him. He felt rabid, like he his brain was catching fire. Finally when you materialized before him, he grabbed your face with his hand.

"My doe?"

Just like before, you stirred, and your hands immediately went for his hair. He pulled back, "Are you awake?"

"Am I dreaming? Alastor?" You looked drunk, mind struggling to process the change in scenery. Your arms wrapped around his neck as he hovered above you, and you pulled him into a kiss. He happily returned it, hands quick to untie the robe you had taken as your own. He wasted now time in getting himself unsheathed and lined up with you, before he could enter you reached out to him, "I wanted to say--- thank you. I don't know if I'll ever really see you again."

The realization made his blood run cold. His mother's stories flooded back to him. It takes training, and time, to remember the travels of the wandering soul.

"You don't have to say anything." Alastor thrust into you, your body tense but not as resistant as before. When he was finally enveloped in you, he could feel himself calm. He didn't feel any need to be gentle this time around. He immediately set a bruising pace, digging his nails into the soft flesh of your ass as he forced your hips to meet his with every thrust. You gasped beneath him, eyes wandering up to the sky just past his head. He'd bring you to climax, wanting to drink in your expression, and to his horror as you choked out his name you were spirited away from him again.

Everyone on the floor heard Alastor's rampage. When Angel ran to get Charlie and Vaggie, they were scared to knock. With a steadying breath Charlie rapped the door, "Al? You okay in there?"

Suddenly, silence.

The door whipped open, Alastor smiling with half lidded eyes, "Why of course. What ever made you think otherwise?"

"The fuckin' sounds of carnage, maybe?" Angel looked past Alastor. The sofa shredded, coffee table in pieces. The wallpaper had been ripped down and torn to shreds. Charlie noticed the dirt under his nails, but Alastor coolly pulled his hands behind his back.

"Can I do something for you?" His tone was cold.

"I guess not, Al...," Charlie took in the damage, "Did something happen?"

Alastor smiled wider, "No," and closed the door. No one saw him the following day, which wasn't entirely unusual but it was weighing on Charlie. When Alastor finally appeared and announced he was going to Cannibal Town, she was elated. A chat with Rosie would surely bring him back to himself.

"I don't see the problem. You've got her soul, you can summon her to you, and you get a little," She searched for the word, "relief. Why do you look so pained, old friend?"

"You know better than most I have no interest in chasing women, Rosie."

"Yet..." She cocked her brow.

"It isn't about the release. I don't particularly need that. I never have." He huffed, the conversation already exhausting him, "When I would kill someone, I was God. Their life was in my hands. I took that power from them."

Rosie clicked her tongue, "And when she's in your hands?" Alastor hunched over his black coffee before remembering himself and straightening his back. "I've never seen you like this before, hun. You've got it bad, huh?"

"Personal connections like this, Rosie, are dangerous. I lost my self restraint entirely. It's a weakness." He fought to regain his smile, never knowing who could be passing by.

She tutted him, "Oh no, that's where you're wrong. The difference between a strong man and an unstoppable man is having something to care about." Rosie leaned over and set her hand on top of his, "Imagine you walked into Val's studio right now and found her like you did a couple months ago. How would you react?"

His stomach wretched forward, if he saw you today, hanging from the ceiling? The stench of Valentino's cigarette smoke clinging to your hair, the marks where his hands had made contact with you? His hand under her's tightened, claws leaving marks into the wooden tabletop. "Do you feel weak right now, Alastor?" The hair on his ears was standing straight up, his now black eyes met hers, "You sure don't look it."

He’d remembered hearing something similar before from Vaggie. Could it be true? It was a precarious ladder. If he let himself be close to someone, then the person is in turn close to him, then that person knows him intimately, and then— they are a walking soft spot. Someone could take them and torture them for information. Or, hurt them to hurt him.

But, who would dare? A fire rose in chest at the thought. What was the point of power if he couldn’t have what he wanted? If he had to answer to others about his desires? To pursue strength and status was what he wanted but if that strength didn’t afford him freedom than what good was it, really?

"I say, not that you asked," Rosie smiled and withdrew her hand, "Could be nice to have a little company now and then. Plus, better than waiting 60 years or something for her to just die." She shrugged, "Now, eat. You look like a shit."

Rosie had a point, while your existence was fragile, it was still available to him.

For awhile, he would call you nightly. Alastor would fuck you into the grass, beneath the trees, under the stars. He learned your orgasm would wake you, and he would draw it out as long as he could. He'd edge you for hours, watching you sob for your release. Slowly, your consciousness became more and more solid during your meetings.

To his relief, his hunger for your presence calmed over time. He could handle a week or even two without sharing your company, and he noticed each time you seemed to recognize him more. You'd participate more, moan louder, scream his name and squirm from the pleasure. He relished trapping you underneath his wide shoulders, pulling you onto his lap as he fucked up into you.

He wasn't fond of the few times he summoned you and you were already wet, or smelling of cologne. He'd tease, "Lonely?" and when he'd fuck his back cum into you before helping you chase your own orgasm, he'd remind you, "You're mine, little doe. No one can replace me." And he'd feel his chest swell. Others had your body for the night, but your soul was his forever. With every meeting, he felt more like himself. And the nights you were screaming his name in the forest, and his horns were looming over you as he marked you over and over as his, he felt powerful.

Some nights, he'd call you to him to just let you rest. He'd enjoy a book, or some jazz over a meal, while you lied quietly in his bed.

The days he pulled you into hell and your hair smelled of the trees, of sweat and dirt, he would be gentler. He could feel the ache in your muscles, the tan on your cheeks, and sent you back.

One such night came, where he of course took your chains in his hand and tugged. But this time, when you arrived, your face was painted with anger. You were asleep still, and even when he whispered to you, you didn't wake. You were having a nightmare, from what he could tell. He took you to his bed, and let you settle.

You stayed there until waking up again in your bed.

And every night that week, he'd bring you to his bed and go about his tasks while you fought some demons in your head. He'd never seen you have a nightmare, and began to wonder if something was happening in the overworld.

Alastor was enjoying a deer carcass in his room, humming softly to himself, when a green light erupted on the floor.

He was well aware it wasn't night anymore, and that he hadn't brought you here. With a soft smile, he left his meal and approached the light. Slowly, your body rose from the darkness there. Not just your soul.

When you looked up at him, a smile on your lips and two small doe ears on your head, he grinned, "Did you miss me terribly, my little doe?" He offered you a hand up, "Welcome home.”

༻Masterlist༺

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burntoutdaydreamer · 6 months

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To Write Better Antagonists, Have Them Embody the Protagonist's Struggles

(Spoilers for The Devil Wears Prada, Avatar the Last Airbender, Kung Fu Panda 2, and The Hunger Games triology).

Writing antagonists and villains can be hard, especially if you don't know how to do so.

I think a lot of writers' first impulse is to start off with a placeholder antagonist, only to find that this character ends up falling flat. They finish their story only for readers to find the antagonist is not scary or threatening at all.

Often the default reaction to this is to focus on making the antagonist meaner, badder, or scarier in whatever way they can- or alternatively they introduce a Tragic Backstory to make them seem broken and sympathetic. Often, this ends up having the exact opposite effect. Instead of a compelling and genuinely terrifying villain, the writer ends up with a Big Bad Edge Lord who the reader just straight up does not care about, or actively rolls their eyes at (I'm looking at you, Marvel).

What makes an antagonist or villain intimidating is not the sheer power they hold, but the personal or existential threat they pose to the protagonist. Meaning, their strength as a character comes from how they tie into the themes of the story.

To show what I mean, here's four examples of the thematic roles an antagonist can serve:

1. A Dark Reflection of the Protagonist

The Devil Wears Prada

Miranda Priestly is initially presented as a terrible boss- which she is- but as the movie goes on, we get to see her in a new light. We see her as an bonafide expert in her field, and a professional woman who’s incredible at what she does. We even begin to see her personal struggles behind the scenes, where it’s clear her success has come at a huge personal cost. Her marriages fall apart, she spends every waking moment working, and because she’s a woman in the corporate world, people are constantly trying to tear her down.

The climax of the movie, and the moment that leaves the viewer most disturbed, does not feature Miranda abusing Andy worse than ever before, but praising her. Specifically, she praises her by saying “I see a great deal of myself in you.” Here, we realize that, like Miranda, Andy has put her job and her career before everything else that she cares about, and has been slowly sacrificing everything about herself just to keep it. While Andy's actions are still a far cry from Miranda's sadistic and abusive managerial style, it's similar enough to recognize that if she continues down her path, she will likely end up turning into Miranda.

In the movie's resolution, Andy does not defeat Miranda by impressing her or proving her wrong (she already did that around the half way mark). Instead, she rejects the values and ideals that her toxic workplace has been forcing on her, and chooses to leave it all behind.

2. An Obstacle to the Protagonist's Ideals

Avatar: The Last Airbender

Fire Lord Ozai is a Big Bad Baddie without much depth or redemptive qualities. Normally this makes for a bad antagonist (and it's probably the reason Ozai has very little screen time compared to his children), but in Avatar: The Last Airbender, it works.

Why?

Because his very existence is a threat to Aang's values of nonviolence and forgiveness.

Fire Lord Ozai cannot be reasoned with. He plans to conquer and burn down the world, and for most of the story, it seems that the only way to stop him is to kill him, which goes against everything Aang stands for. Whether or not Aang could beat the Fire Lord was never really in question, at least for any adults watching the show. The real tension of the final season came from whether Aang could defeat the Fire Lord without sacrificing the ideals he inherited from the nomads; i.e. whether he could fulfill the role of the Avatar while remaining true to himself and his culture.

In the end, he manages to find a way: he defeats the Fire Lord not by killing him, but by stripping him of his powers.

3. A Symbol of the Protagonist's Inner Struggle

Kung Fu Panda 2

Kung Fu Panda 2 is about Po's quest for inner peace, and the villain, Lord Shen, symbolizes everything that's standing in his way.

Po and Lord Shen have very different stories that share one thing in common: they both cannot let go of the past. Lord Shen is obsessed with proving his parents wrong and getting vengeance by conquering all of China. Po is struggling to come to terms with the fact that he is adopted and is desperate to figure out who he is and why he ended up left in a box of radishes as a baby.

Lord Shen symbolizes Po's inner struggle in two main ways: one, he was the source of the tragedy that separated him from his parents, and two, he reinforces Po's negative assumptions about himself. When Po realizes that Lord Shen knows about his past and confronts him, Lord Shen immediately tells Po exactly what he's afraid of hearing: that his parents abandoned him because they didn't love him. Po and the Furious Five struggle to beat Shen not because he's powerful, but because Po can't let go of the past, and this causes him to repeatedly freeze up in battle, which Shen uses to his advantage.

Po overcomes Shen when he does the one thing Shen is incapable of: he lets go of the past and finds inner peace. Po comes to terms with his tragic past and recognizes that it does not define him, while Shen holds on to his obsession of defying his fate, which ultimately leads to his downfall.

4. A Representative of a Harsh Reality or a Bigger System

The Hunger Games

We don't really see President Snow do all that much on his own. Most of the direct conflict that Katniss faces is not against him, but against his underlings and the larger Capitol government. The few interactions we see between her and President Snow are mainly the two of them talking, and this is where we see the kind of threat he poses.

President Snow never lies to Katniss, not even once, and this is the true genius behind his character. He doesn't have to lie to or deceive Katniss, because the truth is enough to keep her complicit.

Katniss knows that fighting Snow and the Capital will lead to total war and destruction- the kind where there are survivors, but no winners. Snow tells her to imagine thousands upon thousands of her people dead, and that's exactly what happens. The entirety of District 12 gets bombed to ashes, Peeta gets brainwashed and turned into a human weapon, and her sister Prim, the very person she set out to protect at the beginning of the story, dies just before the Capitol's surrender. The districts won, but at a devastating cost.

Even after President Snow is captured and put up for execution, he continues to hurt Katniss by telling her the truth. He tells her that the bombs that killed her sister Prim were not sent by him, but by the people on her side. He brings to her attention that the rebellion she's been fighting for might just implement a regime just as oppressive and brutal as the one they overthrew and he's right.

In the end, Katniss is not the one to kill President Snow. She passes up her one chance to kill him to take down President Coin instead.

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mixtape-timeout · 4 days

Text

Hi Stays, this is a post to warn everyone to be wary of a SKZ author here on Stayblr with the username @/gimmeurtmi

I followed them not too long ago, but they suddenly blocked me. I was confused why because I have my age in my account and followed all of their rules. However, I have some reasons to suspect that this user is a Zionist. As you can see I am very Pro-Palestine, it’s in my blog title and bio, and I think this is why they blocked me.

They made a post showing anger about Stays educating Felix on his live about Coca-Cola (For people who don’t know, Coca-Cola is on the BDS boycott list, they support Israel and built an R&D center in occupied Palestinian territory of Atarot) In their post they said it’s “pathetic” for Stays to inform Felix about this and that he wasn’t doing anything wrong. Felix made the effort to read about the issue on his live and chose to apologize to Stay for it, but this user thinks that boycotting a brand tied to a genocidal state is the same as bullying.

((Screenshots are not mine))

They also showed strong support for the new SKZ collab with Charlie Puth. Many Stays are boycotting this collab because Charlie Puth is a raging Zionist, and the track also has an Israeli producer, Johnny Goldstein who is also a proud Zionist. gimmeurtmi even made a whole tag for this collab on their blog to show how much they’re excited for it, even though two Zionists worked on it and will be receiving royalties for it. You can also see the tags in the third post showing them speaking of Tommy Hilfiger, yet another Zionist, in a friendly manner.

Furthermore, I talked to other Stays in the community about this because I don’t want to jump to conclusions and gimmeurtmi blocked other users who are showing support for Palestine, not just me. From reading their posts on their other blog (@/stuckonspidey) you can also see how far their beliefs about this go. That’s not to say them being Jewish means they must be a Zionist, because that’s a completely false idea. There are plenty of Jewish people who are not Zionist and support Palestinian liberation because we recognize that what Palestinians are suffering through is a history repeat of what our people went through. But this added with all the other questionable evidence makes me suspicious that this user is a Zionist, or at least an Israeli sympathizer who treats support for Palestine as an inconvenience.

From these posts on their main blog, you can see them refuse to condemn Israel or even say anything about their crimes when they got asked about it. Instead, they just talk about how this genocide has personally affected them. There are no posts (that I could find) of them showing any sympathy or support for Palestine, all their posts about the subject are just self-victimizing posts about how they feel. Yes, it’s a scary time to be a Jewish person as well, I know this as a person of Jewish ancestry, too. But fighting anti-semitism AND fighting for Palestine can and SHOULD co-exist. It’s a huge red flag that the only thing they have to say about the genocide is how Jewish people are the victims in this. They also made another post where they claim that “Zionist” is just a word people use to be anti-semitic. This is a tale as old as time that Zionists have used to excuse, deny, and even justify Israel’s war crimes. I was once told that a genocide of Palestinians doesn’t exist and is just an “anti-semitic blood libel”. This is the exact same rhetoric that Zionists in my community and Zionist news outlets use (which, I add, almost ALL news outlets are strongly biased to Israel because of America’s ties to it. Israel is heavily backed in support from some of the richest and most powerful countries in the world, it is not the victim and never was).

I am not making this for drama. I made this post just to tell fellow Stays to be cautious of which writers you’re reading from and supporting. If you are against the genocide that has been happening to Palestinians for 75 years now, I suggest not supporting this person’s work, because at best they don’t care about what’s happening in Palestine, and at worst, they actually endorse it. There should be no place in our Stay community for this hateful ideology.

#stray kids #skz #stray kids fanfic #stray kids x reader #skz x reader #skz imagines #stray kids imagines #skz smut #stray kids smut #skz fluff #palestine #free palestine #gaza

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fuckyeahisawthat · 9 months

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I think Crowley falls into two of the classic pitfalls of people who see that the problems are systemic long before anyone else around them does: impatience and despair.

(Yes yes I know, “Crowley was an optimist.” Book Crowley is an optimist. I don’t think that line is particularly useful for analyzing TV Crowley. Stay with me here.)

Let it be said that 95% of the time, Crowley has the patience of a fucking saint (ssh don’t tell him) around Aziraphale. He knows that Aziraphale needs to build his little plausible deniability rationales in order to do something that they both know he wants to do (because it’s right or simply because he would enjoy it) but Heaven wouldn’t approve of. And most of the time, Crowley is happy to help Aziraphale get there, asking the questions Aziraphale is afraid to ask, offering excuses and justifications until Aziraphale finds one he can accept. He does a lot of work of parsing out when “no” means “you haven’t convinced me yet, keep trying” and pushing through all the “I’m an angel, you’re a demon, we’re on opposite sides and mine is the good one” talk that Aziraphale gets up to all the way through s1. Because he knows that Aziraphale doesn’t really believe that stuff, right? He just needs some time to talk himself around his own cognitive dissonance, and most of the time Crowley is not only happy to facilitate that but sees it as part of his role in their relationship.

But then when the chips are down and Aziraphale is still dithering, that’s when he gets frustrated, because HOW CAN YOU NOT SEE what’s been blindingly obvious to Crowley for millennia, that Heaven is just as cruel as Hell and no one is going to step in and fix it because the system is working as intended. And that’s when he says things like “how can someone as clever as you be so stupid?” Which is a surefire way not to convince the person you’re arguing with of anything.

And then there’s the despair. I really think the running away thing is not about cowardice or selfishness or some kind of unhealthy level of avoidance of hard or scary things, but about hopelessness. They’ve spent their lives avoiding very very real danger, and of the two of them Crowley is much more constantly aware of the danger that they are in from both sides. Yes he’s hypervigilant but he is also almost always right about the amount of danger they are in. Trying to get as far away from danger as possible is not an irrational response, even if it’s not always the correct one for a given situation.

When you feel like you’re the only person who sees how rotten the system is, how it needs to be dismantled entirely, but you are also VERY aware of how strong the people in power are and how ruthless they are about crushing dissent because you experienced it personally…well that gets fucking depressing after a while. Because even if you think the whole system needs to go, that feels like a completely unattainable goal when it seems like no one else even sees the problem, or if they see it, they are too afraid to do anything about it. And can you blame them? You know exactly what happens to people who speak up.

So it’s very easy for your goals to shrink from systemic change to just taking yourself and the people you love and finding somewhere for them to be as safe as possible, for as long as the system will let you exist. Because reforming the system is a fool’s errand, and dismantling it entirely seems impossible. I think this is where Crowley is at. Even if on some level he knows it’s an imperfect solution, because both of them have enough compassion that they would feel guilty abandoning Earth and humans to save themselves, and because Heaven and Hell really can find them anywhere in the universe. He just doesn’t see another option.

And look, I think Aziraphale is 100% wrong that Heaven can be reformed. But he is not wrong to want to stay and fight to make things better, even if it means sacrificing the Earthly comforts he loves so much, and even if it means doing it without Crowley by his side.

Ultimately they both need each other. Aziraphale needs Crowley for his willingness to ask questions and to see the scale of the problem, even if it’s terrifying. But Crowley needs Aziraphale for his hope, his stubborn determination to believe things can and should be better, and to fight for that. In the right hands, hope is an enormously powerful weapon.

#good omens #good omens s2 #crowley #my good omens meta

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ozzgin · 18 days

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Hi!! Your writing it truly lovely 😭<33 If i could request anything with Zzy? Thank youuu

Yandere! Demon x Gloomy! Reader (II)

Featuring the goat-legged boy Zzy and a gloomy, newly employed detective Reader! By the way, his name is a little tribute to a series I like. Can you guess who inspired it? Hint: it's Jhonen Vasquez's first comic :D

Content: female reader, perverted goat demon yandere, dark/crass humor!, monster romance, mildly NSFW

[Part 1] [Monster masterlist]

The detective man, at the very least, kept his word. The pay is good, and you barely have any work to do. The jobs themselves are similarly not too challenging: so far you haven’t had to deal with any murder mystery out of an Agatha Christie novel. Rather, most of the time, it’s someone asking you to investigate their cheating partner, or sending you to do a background check for an employee. Every now and then you’ll get the odd client, but that’s something for another day.

Your boss isn’t all that bad either. You were initially quite hesitant to be alone in the room with him. He always seems to be surrounded by an eerie, dark aura, and you’ve only seen him smile in a menacing, villainous way. Now you’ve gotten used to his strangeness. In fact, it’s almost comforting. There’s something refreshing about another human being honest about their misery. He seems to be just as uninterested in this job as you are, spending most of his time reading at his desk. Despite his unkempt, scary appearance, he's pleasant enough and looks after you. Which, now that you think about it, is a little suspicious. You've seen him act around other people: curt and to the point, disinterested, even potentially rude. With demons, he's ruthless.

"Have you had lunch yet?" the man asks, standing up and dusting his knees. "I can get us something."

You nod and flash him a flaccid smile, although you can't help but ask:

"Listen, aren't you being a little too nice? I mean, I'm not complaining...but I've seen how you behave in general, and I have a hard time coming up with a reason for my special treatment."

He ponders your question for a moment, before his sunken eyes look ahead, somewhere behind you.

"Well…If I’m being honest, you’re kind of pathetic, aren't you? I’m just a little worried that if I’m too harsh, I’ll find out you hanged yourself in your apartment or something. Not that I’d care, but if you’re gone, I’m the one stuck with…that thing.”

Ah. That’s what it was. Almost immediately, a shiver runs across your spine.

“(Y/N)! Are you done yet? I’m booooooored”, a prolonged whine erupts from the neighboring chamber.

“I’m about to have lunch, actually. Do you want any-”

“You know I do! Spread those legs and I can start”, the goat demon declares with a grin, clacking his hooves in your direction.

You sigh.

Of course. Months ago, you were tricked into signing a lifelong contract with Zzy. It was the detective’s way of washing his hands off the matter and warmly welcoming you into the agency. It makes sense that he'd treat you with utmost care, otherwise he'd have to deal with this pest from Hell once again.

How's your life with Zzy going?

You've since found a way to seal your bedroom, in order to avoid waking up with his groping hands under your sheets. Sadly, the stubborn creature keeps finding ways to bypass your safety measurements. Who would’ve thought that lust is such a powerful driving force?

On top of the nightly shenanigans, you obviously have to deal with him during the day, at the agency. “Listen, it’s like…one of those fidget toys. It helps with stress”, he explains fervently while pointing at your chest. “You want me to do my work properly, don’t you?” He concludes theatrically. “You’re not holding my boobs. This is the end of the conversation.”

If you’re having a bad day, it won’t go unnoticed. “Boy, what a smell, what a delicacy. You’re even more miserable than usual”, Zzy will exclaim, throwing his hands together in a graceful prayer. “You know what the best medicine is? A quick fuck. Let me pound that sadness out of you, eh?”

Despite his constant clowning, the demon does have moments of clarity. He becomes particularly serious when jealous. “What have you done?” You shout in despair, gawking at the client - now morphed into a pig - foaming at the mouth and running around the room. “He was staring at your ass. Only I can do that.” The horned man stands proud, arms crossed, nodding at his own courageous act. His most treasured belonging has been defended once more.

As expected, the jealous curse has gotten both of you into time-out. Zzy because he cursed the client in the first place, and you - despite your protests - because you didn't stop him in time. "Can't you wear something easier to take off? It takes two business days to unbutton this crap", the demon complains as he fiddles with your shirt. You're laying on the sofa, hands behind your head, gazing at the clock on the wall and counting the minutes passing. Unbothered, compliant. The peacefulness of someone who's given up. "Zipper is to the left", you add, aiding the process.

Another irritating detail is that the damned beast can detect the slightest arousal coming from you, and will make sure to announce it loudly, regardless of who is around. "Someone's horny! Whew, getting me all worked up, too." You slap a hand over his mouth, a deep red blush rapidly spreading across your cheeks. You turn to the detective and apologize profusely, but he remains unconcerned, flipping another page. "Let me take care of her first, Mr. Detective", Zzy manages to mumble through your pressed fingers. "As long as you get the task done", your boss responds plainly, never bothering to look up from his book.

"You should visit me down there sometimes", the horned creature suddenly mentions, his head resting in your lap as you idly browse your phone. You stop to glance down at him. "In Hell, you mean?" He snickers at the thought. "No one believes me when I tell them I have a human girlfriend. I need concrete proof, ya feel me?" You raise an eyebrow. "Girlfriend?" He disregards your inquiry and continues: "At least give me a pair of your panties to take back home." Absolutely not.

"Were you this much of a menace before I showed up?"

"What's that supposed to mean?! You can't blame a demon for being in love."

You sigh once more and roll over.

"Does that mean we can go for round two~?" Zzy is grinning at his own suggestion.

"Just go to sleep. Or something."

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novantinuum · 4 months

Text

Steven's Breakdown Was Inevitable From the Very Beginning

I feel like the thing that fucks me up the most about Steven Q. Universe and how well conceived he is as a character is that the fundamental building blocks of why he reached his breaking point in SU: Future were laid out as clear as day in the span of legit only the first four episodes of the original show. The writing was literally always on the wall that future him would struggle with matters of self worth and identity in relationship to the others around him.

Let's take a look:

Gem Glow

"Awesome! What are these things?"

Foundational Trauma #1: Steven's home is always either under threat or actively being wrecked by antagonistic forces/beings, and he constantly copes with this by pushing down his fear in favor of a curiosity and silver linings based mindset.

Look at his initial shock when he opens the door and gets tackled by one of these things, and then his response when one of them spits acid:

The kid's freaked the hell out about all this, and while I do think there's a part of Steven that genuinely IS curious about what these lil critters are, I think he's subconsciously using that curiosity as a way to distract himself from his own fears and anxieties. This is Steven actively learning how to ignore the deeper problems in favor of emoting a facade to the others in his life that he can totally handle himself in scary situations like these.

The underlying reason why is incredibly apparent, when you look at the example from the next episode-

Laser Light Canon

"I don't know what a magic lady like her ever saw in a plain old dope like me..."

Genuinely- from the bottom of my heart- I think the above quote from Greg is a moment where his own insecurities around the Gems actually rubbed off on Steven.

At this point in time, Steven may be living with the Gems... but he hasn't started to harness any of his powers at all, so in his own head he might as well be the same as his dad- another human, just one who happens to have a gem! But the way Greg talks about himself... given Steven was living with him in the van for years before moving in to the beach house, he had to have heard negative self-talk from his dad like this before.

And then there's the rest of the Crystal Gems... always speaking of Rose with such reverence as if she were an all-powerful goddess... and Steven can't help but look back at himself, and his gem that won't work... the gem that the others still identify as Rose's...

"Your gem-! You have Rose's gem!"

And maybe he starts to wonder if- without any working powers- he's just a plain ol' dope like his Dad, too.

"Please work... Unlock! Activate! Go! Please-!! Everyone's counting on you, you can't just be useless!"

Foundational Trauma #2: Steven has Rose's gem, and as such, is constantly living under the silent expectation to live up to a standard that he simply cannot ever hope to achieve, because he doesn't KNOW her and he never will.

I want to highlight one of Steven's expressions while his dad is talking about Rose- look at that sad look. My god, I just wanna hug him. This is the expression of a child who has already come to terms with the fact that his only relationship with his mom is through the rose tinted stories that other people tell him about her.

Cheeseburger Backpack

So. Steven has learned so far that he needs to push down his feelings and emote a false veneer of cheer and bravery even when he's afraid, because the rest of the people in his life have expectations and hopes for him due to the legacy of his parentage and he can't bear the thought of letting them down. (And in a sad way, at this point "letting them down" literally just means... being an ordinary human boy. I believe Steven at this stage of the show is flat out scared to be human, because to be human is to fail at being a Gem, and no amount of love and sacrifice in the name of humanity in the seasons to come could've ever saved him from the fundamental fact that the wedge between him and this whole half of his being was already drawn long before the events of season 1 even started. But I digress.)

Let's see where we go from there. Let's check out Steven's first "mission." Or as Pearl puts it about 35 episodes later, his first "test."

"Yeah... they can't all be winners."

This episode is tinted with a little bit of tragedy for me on rewatch, because I genuinely do think the Gems handled the situation as well as they could've. They were supportive of Steven's successful ploys, and (for the most part) responded with grace when he majorly blundered and left the Goddess Statue at home. The main problem, however, is that Steven has already developed a bit of a complex about impressing the three of them-

Foundational Trauma #3: Even when they claim otherwise, Steven has convinced himself that affection from the Gems is transactional, and that when he messes up he's not truly a part of the Crystal Gems.

Of course we the audience know this isn't true- I mean, hell, Amethyst even said as much in episode one after her slip-up ("and you're fun to have around, even if your gem IS useless!")... that the Crystal Gems wouldn't be the same without him. But Steven... the poor kid is a complicated little guy living a complicated life, and whether they intended it or not, the language used they've used around him thus far has not backed up their attempts at fully embracing him, human parentage and all.

Thus, Steven just spends the entire episode wracked with anxiety trying to find creative non-power using ways to make the mission easier so he can convince them he's useful to have around.

Look how nervous he gets even when all three of them are visibly and vocally supportive of his presence here:

This is the face of a boy who feels like he's under constant judgement and scrutiny from those around him.

Blessedly, viewing this episode in isolation, he experiences a brief moment of mental respite where he finally accepts the Gems' encouragement and agrees that his ideas 'can't all be winners,' but this lesson does not stick for him moving forward. A shame, really.

Together Breakfast

"What's the matter, Steven?" "I wanted us all to have breakfast together, so I made Together Breakfast! But everyone keeps leaving..." "Oh, that's nice..."

Taken in context with what we've learned already in the last three episodes, Steven's desperation to spend quality time with the Gems here and his sadness that they keep leaving him alone doesn't just exist within a vacuum. He spends the whole morning watching them shuffle in and out of the temple, or come back from missions he wasn't invited on, and with the disastrous result of the LAST mission he went on probably fresh in his mind it's not hard to understand why this bothers him.

Foundational Trauma #4: Steven internalizes that the price of "not being useful" is that the Gems actively ignore him, meaning that the only way to guarantee their attention is to work as hard as he can to become a stronger member of the team.

I know this screenshot is usually used as a lighthearted meme, but I wanted to include it because I think it's a good example of how Steven's intense desire to impress permeates every facet of his personality at times. Just LOOK at how desperate he is to make Garnet laugh at his joke, to be the one that's at very least "fun to have around," as Amethyst put it in episode one.

The Gems do eventually drop what they're doing to spend time with Steven by the conclusion of this episode, but this only comes after Steven shows his growing strength and "proves" himself by saving their butts from the breakfast monster.

If he successfully gained their attention in literally any other way he might've come away from this episode with a different lesson, but no. Instead, his fears were proven true- the Gems value strength and utility, and if he's not exhibiting that, then what use is he to them?

These fears of his can be seen weaving throughout the foundational fabric of the entire show, but I think Steven lays out what he sees as his "stakes" in the clearest way possible in the episode 'An Indirect Kiss.'

"But- if I don't have powers, then I can't hang out with Amethyst, or Garnet, o-or Pearl, and- I-I can't go on missions!"

And these same insecurities even rear their ugly head as late as the movie.

"I can't believe this... for the first time in years, everyone's in danger, everybody needs me, and- I'm useless!"

Powers = Utility = Worth = Other's love, for Steven. Everything is transactional to the end, which is a hilarious double standard he's set for himself when he's made his reputation as the kid who always listens and encourages and gives others a chance to change, no matter their messy history with him.

So let's recap and restate those foundational traumas from Steven's perspective.

One: The only way to cope when your life is constantly under threat is to bury the damage and pretend to be fine.

Two: Everyone expects you to live up to the standards of someone you're not.

Three: The Gems only love you when you're of use to them.

Four: If you ever stop being useful, the Gems won't want anything more to do with you.

In sum, Steven's habit of burying his feelings for the benefit of others was there from the very beginning, not just since 'The Test.'

Those unreachable standards he felt so daunted and intimidated by all his life were the ones set by Rose, at first... but over the course of the series, the dynamic of this shifted. As Rose's influence fell into the background, Steven's rose into the front. And so it's with great irony that- by the time of Steven Universe: Future, the expectations this exhausted, worn down teenager is fighting to once again achieve are the ones HE set for himself. Many of young Steven's selfless actions during the war are quite admirable when analyzed in isolation, but almost none of them are sustainable. He set himself on fire just to save the world, but teen Steven is genuinely unable to see this for what it is yet- as a tragic sacrifice of his own childhood. You can't burn your own ends for others forever, not at all. His breakdown was simply inevitable.

When it comes to the interconnected beliefs three and four, these are exactly why the ultimate confrontation at the end of I Am My Monster HAD to be one fueled by selfless love. Steven is at his absolute lowest at this point- he's everything he fears he's become, trapped in a form that's nearly incapable of reason. He's big and angry and spiky because that's a part of the facade- because a part of him WANTS to scare the Gems away, wants to be left alone forever, believing this the fate he deserves as price for his misdeeds.

In this form, by his own definitions he is NOT useful to the Crystal Gems at all.

But they don't care.

Because it never WAS about Steven's 'usefulness' to them, they simply love him for being Steven.

With this in mind, the conclusion of Steven Universe: Future wasn't just a salve to teen Steven's immediate struggles, it was a salve to the foundational insecurities that have been plaguing him his entire life.

And hopefully... from this point on... his family's shows of love and encouragement will be enough to finally convince Steven that he's more than worth their time...

No matter what path the future leads him on, and no matter what form he takes.

#su #su future #steven universe #su meta #my post stuff

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dcxdpdabbles · 10 months

Note

If possible could you do the Batkids summoning the Ghost King on a dare?

It starts with Tim because most insane things do. Kon had sent him a link to a trend, asking him to try it the next time Young Justice got together.

He made the mistake of clicking on the link while sitting near his siblings in the gaming room. The audio is also on full blast because he didn't realize his headphones were out of battery.

Thus while waiting for his turn to play Mario Kart, a loud male moan echoes from his speakers. Tim freezes in his seat, staring at his phone in horrified betrayal, as seven heads snap in his direction.

"Ugh, Timmy? Those are videos you should be watching alone" Dick says with half a teasing smirk. "I know you're growing up and are curious about-"

"It's not like that! It's a summoning circle!" Tim yelps, turning the phone around. On his screen, five male teenagers sit in a circle, each holding hands. Moaning. The caption reads, "Summoning the Ghost King! What's your offer?".

"What the hell?" Jason squints as the teenagers in the video burst into laughter. They jeer and taunt each other good naturally, indicating the random moaning was in jest.

"Oh, I know that trend!" Cullen chirps from the floor. He's been hugging the bowl of chips all night, laying down on his stomach to keep it guarded from the others. "Basically, you try to summon the Ghost King by offering something random. Guess he doesn't respond to human sacrifices or the typical stuff, so people have been getting creative. I once saw a group of girls who burned their training bras and offered the King the ashes. The point is to pick the weirdest thing you can think of."

"That's the stupidest thing I have ever heard. We have to try it." Steph announces, standing up. She pushes the coffee table out of the way. The rest of their siblings, who weren't as into the speeding game, perked up in interest. "What do we need?"

"Um," Tim scrolls through the comments. "We need four never before lite candles, each placed in the positions of the four directions. We have to sit crossed leg in a circle holding hands and call out to the King with a poem, and at the end, we make our offering."

Harper springs up. "I got some candles! Do they matter if it's scented?"

Tim checks online. "It's not recommended, but it's fine if they are."

"This is idiotic! Attempting to make contact with the Ghost King is far too dangerous. I shall take no part in this foolery!" Damian cuts in, face twisted into a- surprisingly- nervous frown. His hands are clasped tightly over each other while his eyes roam the room looking for unseen threats. If Tim didn't know any better, he said the brat was scared.

"Aw Dami, if you don't want to do a summons, we can play the game of life or something. It's okay to be scared of ghosts" Dick says, placing his hand on the kid's shoulder. He was obviously trying to comfort the kid but it has the opposite effect.

"I am not scared of a mere ghost!" Damian hisses. "I am merely stating we should not bother forces well out of our leagues!"

Jason snorts, planting himself on the ground as Harper returns. She had four different color candles, purple, blue, black, and green. After consulting with Cass- a human compass-she placed them facing the east, west, south, and north.

"Why did you make that disgusting noise Todd?" Damian demands narrowing his eyes at the striking man.

"Just admit you're scared of ghosts, brat. No one is going to judge you for it."

"I said I was not scared of a mere ghost. The Ghost King is far more powerful then-"

"Alright, alright. Damian is too much of a scary cat to play, but who else is in?" Steph cuts him off, a knowing glint in her eyes. The youngest flushes angrily before he marches between the green and black candle and sits with his legs crossed. A nasty scowl is playing on his lips, likely not noticing the high-five Jason and Steph share for getting him to join.

Cass gracefully falls right next to Damian, offering the younger boy a small. His scowl lessens just a little. Cullen crawls his way over, pressing the bowl of chips to his hip protectively once he's sitting up. He ended up between the green and the purple candle, offering Cass a smile. Harper lands next to Cullen, cracking her neck as if preparing for a fight.

Dick does an unnecessary flip over the couch to take the place between the purple and blue candles. Next to him, Steph sits, her knee bumping the blue candle slightly. Jason struts over to sit next to Steph right between the blue and black candle. Duke shares the space with him, giving just a slightly nervous chuckle as Tim and Babs push the black and green candle apart a little to squeeze into though Babs remains in her chair.

"Alright, so the person with the candle on their right side has to light it. Do it at the same time. Once that happens, we join hands and do chat about the poem. Says only one person has to say the words, but if you want, I can send the link in the family group chat so we can all say it?" Tim waits to see them consider it, but Cass excited nodding has him copying the link he found on an online forum. A few dings go around the room as everyone checks their phones. "Now we have to decide on a sacrificial offering."

"We should do our most embarrassing secrets," Jason suggests.

"No, no, our fabulous hair!" Dick perks up, flipping said hair in a dramatic flair.

"It has to be something we all share," Tim says, eyeing Duke's short hair.

The other teenager makes an offended noise. "My hair is fabulous!"

"We offer the gay." Cullen cuts in. The rest turn to look at him as he wiggles his fingers. "Ohhhhhh! We're all fruity~! Spooky!"

"Babs isn't," Dick puts in only to see his best friend shake her hand in a so-and-so motion. He gapes at her before throwing his head back and laughing "We really do flock together!"

"So we agree? The gay?" Tim tries to say seriously, but his lips are twitching too much, trying to suppress a smile. There is agreement around the circle. He gives on a single node before passing around the matches Harper had brought. "How are we going to do this, though. Do we just shout, "I'm gay," or are we giving material things?"

"Let's write our gay awakening on a piece of people," Babs suggests grabbing her bag from where it hands on her chair handles. She tucks out a spiral notebook and a few pens. "I read that summoning needs something physical."

Everyone agrees as they pass along the notebook, writing down their awakening. Tim raises a brow at Damian's "Jon Kent" but doesn't call him out for it. After all, Conner Kent goes under his little brother's writing in his own writing.

He does wonder who Danny Fenton is, but knows better than to ask Cass about her life before the manor.

"Okay, let's do this! On the count of three- one-two-three!" Tim calls, watching Damian, Harper, Steph, and Duke simultaneously lite at the candle. They all hold hands, reading off phones that are prompted up by either their legs or kickstands on cases.

"We call upon the Undead King,

The one who bridges the realms,

The one who wields the Ring,

The one who will lead dies and breathes!"

There is a moment of silence where Tim swears he feels a slight shock along his fingertips, but it passes too quickly for him to care. Seeing as he is the ring leader, he calls out to the air. "Oh great King of the Dead, my siblings and I offer you a list of our gay awakening!"

"Stop, stop!" The youngest yells, leaping to his feet. His eyes are wild, scrambling to a far wall like a cornered animal. "No! He's coming!"

"Coming out the closet, like mama, I like boys, I like pecs

Like the arms when they flex!" Stephs suddenly sings, swaying in her seat. Everyone laughs before joining, and Tim wonders if they should have recorded this when suddenly Damian shrieks.

"Damian, who-"

The candles' flames all turn green as a haunting voice echoes through the room. "Your sacrifice has been accepted."

Tim's mouth drops open as the flames rise into the air forming a portal of liquid green. Familiar green. No wonder Daimain had been so scared. That was Lazarus Pit water. This meant this was the real deal, not just a random trend popularized by stupid teenagers.

Leaping Lizards Batman.

"What-what do we do!?" Cullen yelps as a burst of wind rips around the room, throwing everyone back. A laugh that sounds far too much like the Joker is heard through the portal as everyone tries to get into a fighting position with the wind pushing against them.

A head of snow-white hair peaks out and they are greeted by a laughing teenager. "A gay awaking sacrifice list! That's hilarious!"

"Who are you!" Tim hears Jason demand over the howling wings.

Another laugh, but this time, it sounds like clicking ice cubes is a response. "I'm Phantom!"

Tim has a second to see, wide green glowing eyes before the ghost reaches down, snatches their list, and zaps away.

Cass falls to her knees with a look of horror. "They know"

"I told you this was idiotic!" Damian screams, shaking so hard he looks like he will burst into tears in only a few seconds. Dick rushes over to him, pulling the sniffing boy into his arms. "We must never do this again!"

No one knows what to do in the wake of actually succeeding in calling the Ghost King or watching Dmaian cry from fear.

A ringtone plays from Cass's phone, breaking the ill silence. Tim catches a glimpse of "Danny" with two little hearts before his sister grabs the cell and leaps through an open window with what could only be a squeal.

"What the fuck just happened?" Cullen asks, but Tim can only offer him a shrug.

#dc x dp crossover #dcxdpdabbles #Ghost King Summon Dare au #Basically Cass met Danny on the streets #Gay awakening cause Danny is gender fluid #Damian is really scared of Danny #Prompt #Hope you like!#Dead Silent

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cashmoneyyysstuff · 4 months

Text

♡ chronicle #3 : going home ♡

fem reader pronouns mentioned in this one !

wc : 7210

bakugou has been acting different after your conversation at work.

it's not like he's gotten any less annoying, far from it. but he's been a bit more...bearable lately.

sure, he still steals your food and nips at you when you pull it away from him. but he's started 'begrudingly" sharing his portion with you, to keep it fair. whether it be an energy bar from your pantry or the dinner he insisted he'd make for himself but ended up conveniently making enough for the two of you.

he's also way more touchy, almost on the brink of clingy. he follows you around your apartment whenever you leave the living room like an angry puppy with rabies, but then denies he is. "you were just headed the same way i was." was his favorite excuse.

you had caught on quickly when he simply stood by the door and watched you fold laundry, then growling about how you took to long before taking half of your clothes and neatly folding them like his life depended on it. perhaps he was simply a clinger. you don't mind much, you get your laundry done faster with him here.

he's started sitting closer to you on the couch. slowly, subtly at first, but now he doesn't feel the need to be subtle anymore it seems. he can't be when you're practically sitting shoulder to shoulder. you don't mind much, he's warm.

you've slowly started petting his head more and more often. you don't really remember why you did before, but he didn't seem to mind it the first time, so you figured you were in the clear to do it again. he jumped after you'd first done it again while you were watching the notebook, but he didn't say anything. you didn't either so as not to get your head chewed off. you saw in the corner of your eye how he leaned his head a little more towards you, and how he turned red from the tips of his ears all the way down to his neck.

since you'd come to find out he liked getting praised, you'd start implementing the act of affection here and there and now he expects you to do it every time. it was hard to understand what he wanted at first since apparently him being a powerful and mighty dragon made him unable to use his words correctly. he'd just stare at you, fiery red eyes locked onto your face and a small barely there pout forming on his face. you'd learned to do it every time since then, otherwise he'd get cranky. you don't mind much, his hair feels really nice.

he still hasn't called you by your fucking name though, but you're desensitized by now.

it's been about an hour since you'd gotten back from work. you're watching a movie you chose, which ended up being lady and the tramp. bakugou complained at first before quickly getting absorbed into the movie. you find it frankly hilarious that the big, serious and scary dragon man enjoys watching disney movies but you digress, it was a good movie.

you can hear the microwave's low hum and you're already salivating at the smell from the leftover dinner bakugou had made yesterday. you're a little, just a smidge jealous of his cooking skills, sure. but you will not miss the opportunity to eat his food up, you've learned to suck up your pride and live with his stupidly handsome cocky smirk as you practically devour his food.

you've gotten to the famous spaghetthi scene and you're curious to see how the dragon man reacts to it. you feel smugness pooling in your chest when you see him trying to hold back a cheesy smile. you really can't blame him, there's a smile forming on your face unconsciously, this scene is really fucking cute.

"i love this scene, it's so cute" you sigh dreamingly "if only human relationships were that easy" you lament, resting your head in the palm of your hand.

bakugou, who's sitting right next to you on the couch, scoffs to himself "you humans and your stupid mating rituals. i don't know why you make things so difficult for yourselves."

"you can't just assume all humans are like what you see in drama's. most humans aren't like that" you deadpan. he pokes at your ribs and chuckles when you jolt and glare at him, just as annoying alright.

"of course i know that, shitty human" he says, shuffling around on the couch to get more comfortable, his arm brushes against yours when he throws it back around the couch for a moment and you hate how easily it makes you shiver. " but those drama's are somewhat cemented in reality, aren't they ? so it's stupid."

you roll your eyes, but you can't really disagree. humans did seem to make things complicated for themselves.

but suddenly, you're curious.

"well, how do dragons.." you fumble around with your hands looking for the right word "..date, then ?" you ask. bakugou rolls his eyes at you "we don't date." he copies in a pitchy voice, you tug at his horn and he growls, snapping at you.

"what do you do then ?" you groan as you dodge him, he knocks his head against yours and headbutts you. he's such a sore loser.

"we mate." he huffs "mate ?" you ask curiously and he nods, looking towards the tv, grunting in acknowledgement. "s'like—what you humans call marriage" he mumbles, his voice and eye contact trailing off.

"oh, okay.." you hum, nodding "so, how do you break up ?"

"we don't. there's no need."

you tilt your head at him, silently asking for more info. he sighs like he's irritated but really it's because you're staring up at him so curiously. you're eyes are big and bright and so annoyingly pretty. and your scent's way too fucking strong, it makes him want to hold you and keep you close to him, away from dragons and humans and everything else.

" everyone has a soulmate." he starts, absentmindedly prodding at the material of your couch "wether you find them at birth or at the end of your lifespan, you have one."

"you're soulmates the one that was made for you. there's an old legend you and your soulmate are stars seperated by the gods and you're looking for each other reflexively—or something" he adds, seemingly uninterested, but he can feel his skin heating up after every word "they understand you on a level no one else can, and whenever you're with them.." he cuts himself off and suddenly looks down at you. you blink up at him, surprised, but you don't move an inch. it feels like you've gotten closer somehow. something in the air has changed.

"it" he gulps "it feels right."

katsuki has understood why he feels the way he does around you for a while now. he thinks he's always had somewhat of a hunch when he'd first blasted into your apartment and hadn't killed you the moment you'd raised your voice at him. but he knew for sure when you'd had your..moment at your office.

katsuki's convinced himself he doesn't have time for soulmates, he doesn't need one. no matter how hard his old hag had tried to force encourage him to find his. he simply couldn't find it in himself to care.

and yet, now that he's met you, it's so, so different. he wants you. he wants you more then he's ever wanted anything before. he needs you more than all the gold and every treasure he could lay his eyes on. he can't hand you over to anyone else now that he's met you and he wants to be bothered, especially because you're human. something he's been taught to look down on ever since he was a cub. and yet here he is, clinging to you like a puppy. cooking for you, helping you with your stupid human chores and groceries and he listens to you when you ask him something, although begrudgingly.

and katsuki wants to hate it, he wants to hate the way you make him feel, wants to hate how mushy and soft you make him, he wants to hate you. but he can't. can't hate the way you make him feel and he can't hate you because when he's with you he feels so good. he wants more, more of this feeling, more of you.

dragons are greedy creatures after all.

you're lips suddenly feel very dry as he looks at you and you look at him. his piercing gaze makes you forget you were supposed to respond to what he said.

"o-oh, that's really..romantic" you breathe out. he huffs and he's so much closer now because you feel the air hit your face when he does "s'corny if you ask me" he says evenly, gaze focused on you.

"i did ask you" you quip, but there's no smirk on your face when you do, your heart starts beating a little faster "you seem to know a lot for someone who thinks it's corny" you try to lighten to mood, booping his nose and you watch his face scrunch up, huffing out a laugh when he bops his forehead to yours somewhat harshly again, but not enough to hurt.

" my folks told me about it. and it's a common tale back where i'm from, everyone knows about it."

and that clears your head a little bit. his parents. the place where he comes from.

you'd been too scared to ask him anything after things turned awkward a few weeks ago. it wasn't that bad, but bad enough to scare you off from asking again. you suck in a breath, sucking up your confidence with it.

"where—" you start "where are you from anyway, bakugou?" your voice is soft, meek as you ask. it's so low you could barely hear yourself but you did, and so did he. his eyes narrow the slightest bit and you have to steel your nerves to stop from flinching. he leans his head away, just slightly, like he can't force himself to go any further "why'd you wanna know ?" he asks, and unreadable expression on his face.

you shrug "i wanna know more about you." you reply. he squints at you somewhere, then closes his eyes and sighs.

"my people are from a place called yuuei. it's a great kingdom" he huffs, clearly proud.

you nod "then..why'd you leave ?" you probably should've been more careful with your wording, but you found you don't find bakugou as menacing as you used to when he first arrived. you don't know if that's a good thing or not.

his eyebrows furrow as he looks down at the couch, you don't want to upset him and you're about to tell me he doesn't have to divulge any personal information when he speaks again.

"i'm...pretty important over there.” he mumbled "it's—it doesn't matter anymore. i'll probably be replaced."

"what ? what does that mean ?" all he does is furrow his eyebrows more, clenching his fists. as if it were a reflex, you reach up and run your fingers through his soft blonde hair. his closes his eyes the moment your hand makes contact with his head, you hear a happy little chuff come from him as you scratch a specific spot he rlly likes right below his nape.

"in my kingdom, you have to do this sort of..duel, it's for power an' stuff.." he replies after a bit , his eyes still closed but the pinch in his brows returns the more he speaks "i was supposed to win. i was gonna win, but i—" a heavy scowl is present on his face and you could tell it was something hard to talk about for him. you're so focused you don't notice your movements have slowed down, but bakugou has. he nudges his head against your hand and grunts. you offer him a little mumbled out "sorry" and continue to abide to his wordless demand. it's endearing as much as it's bratty, but you don't mind much.

"that fuckin' bastard played dirty..and i lost. th't's how i got here" he groused. your eyes widen in shock, completely stopping your movements in his hair despite the groans of complaint you hear from him. "how far away is yuuei ?!"

"far" he chuckles humorlessly "very far. but i've sparred with him before, he couldn't have gotten so strong so fast. must've gotten somethin' from a witch or whatever.”

"you got blasted all the way here ?!" you squeaked, cringing at the pain he must've felt. with the state he'd appeared at..your wall, it was honestly amazing he had healed so much that fast. dragons really are something else, you thought.

he scoffs, shoving his head against your hand as if to punish you for rubbing salt in his still very open wound. "s'not that big of a deal" he stops himself for a second "i'm gettin' better aren't i, doc ?" he jests. you roll your eyes, a small smile appearing onto your face. he had been healing pretty well from what you'd seen.

"i can give you that" you sigh. bakugou gives you a once over than raises and eyebrow "well, did i satisfy your curiosity, human ?" he goads sarcastically, you fight the urge to roll your eyes again because you feel they'll get stuck to the back of your head with how hard you'd be rolling them. instead you offer him a tiny giggle, you miss how his tail raises upwards the slightest bit.

you hum pensively, and he rolls his eyes at you this time, you laugh. "yeah, i think i'm satisfied for now" you smirk, returning to your activities of messing around with his wheat colored strands of hair, making it messier and spikier than it already was.

"for now ?" he asks amusedly. but there's a subtle hint of genuine vulnerablity in his eyes that you can somehow see so clearly, you're still a little shocked about how easy this literal other wordly, mythical being was to read. or maybe bakugou was just very obvious. or maybe it's because you feel like you've known him you're entire life when you look him in the eyes for too long.

"mhm" you hum, smiling softly at him, your hand trails lower to the hairs at the nape of his neck, you get goosebumps when you hear his low growl in response to your touch "for now" you whisper. a beat passes.

suddenly, you're pressed down on the couch and bakugou's on top of you.

it happened before you could even process it. before you could even blink he was staring down at you, hands on either sides of your head and so close that you could feel his breath every time he inhaled and exhaled. there's a low rumble sound that's coming from him, you don't know from where. you can barely hear anything over the sound of your heart beating fast against your ribs.

he's simply staring, and staring and a beat passes. then he huffs, pouting to himself.

"you piss me the hell off, you know." he mutters

"wh-wha?! bakugou—" you're not even sure you could've said anything more coherent than this if you tried. your brain's scrambled, your cheeks feel hot and you cannot hear anything but him and your beating heart.

he cuts you off "katsuki." he growls. "it's katsuki. say it." he demands, sounding almost desperate.

"..katsuki" you mumble shyly, testing how the new name he'd given you sounds. it's pretty, you like saying it, you decide. he inhales harshly when he registers his name falling from your pretty lips.

"you—" he speaks " you have no fuckin' idea what you do to me, do you." he asks but he doesn't give you a chance to answer as he continues "'f course ya don't." he smirks, leaning in more so he could bump his nose against yours. your lips part to swipe your tongue over them and you feel your fingers twitch when his eyes flit over to look at the movement for way longer than necesarry before he keeps speaking.

"you, you're probably...nah, definitely the most infuriating human i've ever met." you huff, forgetting the position you're in for a moment before pouting up at him " you're not the most amicable dragon i've met either." you huff petulantly. he chuckles, adjusting a little to lean back just barely and give you that infuriating smirk. "no trust me, i am. any other dragon wouldn't have let ya mouth off like that at them for more than a second"

"so what, i should be thanking you or something ?" you snarked hotly, you go to cross your arms reflexively, but he stops you halfway. holding your arms above your head with one hand. he leans in again and you gasp slightly. his hold on you tightens ever so slightly when you do.

"yeah, you should be actually. coulda blown yer fuckin' head off if i wanted to" he snickers "but that's the thing." he says somewhat seriously "i didn't"

"thanks." you deadpan. he tuts at you, rolling his eyes again "shut up, i wasn't finished. when you mouthed off to me when i first arrived here. you had every fuckin' right to." he admits begrudgingly, looking away from you. your eyes widen in surprise but you stay silent

bakugou sighs above you " as much as i hate to admit it, you saved my life...or whatever. and the first thing i did was threaten you. i haven't met that many humans, but most of 'em were weaklings. wether they talked a big game or not, they should be prepared for what happens when you mess with me and what's mine."

"but you weren't after my treasure, or my scales, or my life. you were after payment for your fuckin' wall" he chortles " i thought that was what caught me off guard about you, so i figured i could at least fix your wall up."

he stops and his smirks melt away when he makes eye contact with you again. "but then ya offered me to stay. and i said yes. and i didn't fuckin' know why i did, but it just felt right to." he admits "i went along with your stupid human reasons that i could honestly give less of a shit about, without even fucking knowing why." he spills, inhaling as he finishes "but now," he swallows, leaning down so his lips make contact with your neck, you gasp in surprise "now i do." he rumbles lowly.

you can barely speak, can barely think straight and yet it's like your body's taking full control "wh-why?" you hear yourself ask. he looks up at you from where he's hidden in your neck and leans up until your lips are a breath away from each other. it startles you, but you don't move.

he looks at your lips then back up at you. red eyes peering at you, asking for permission. you exhale and feel yourself nod just the slightest bit, but just enough for him to get your approval. you want this, you need this. you feel like you'll lose it if you he doesn't—

the sound of the timer makes you both jump.

"oh—shit !" you squeak, surprised at the sudden noise, you look at the tv, and back at him. his face is fully red and he refuses to look at you anymore. it makes your chest hurts a little bit. just as fast as he'd pushed you down onto the couch he's already off you, quickly mumbling "i'll go check it." before dissapearing into the kitchen, you can just barely catch the sound of his retreating footsteps over the sound of your beating heart.

what. just. happened ?

you don't know how you fell asleep last night but you did somehow, because the next morning you're off from work, it's ten am, and katsuki is gone. he'd left a note in suprisingly neat handwriting saying he had gone out to get groceries for dinner tonight. it was your turn to make dinner today, but you appreciate it nonetheless, despite your heavy, heavy heart.

you hear a knock at your door and you assume it's him, even though you find it odd of him to knock, since you had offered him a spare key. the knocking is insistent and loud. you grumpily stalk up to your door, swinging it open. expecting to be met with an extremely pushy telemarketer but instead you're met with an extremely tall, red haired man.

he had to be a little bit taller than katsuki, from what you can see. his hair spikes up and blends together so well it takes you a moment to notice those front pieces aren't hair, but horns. you look behind him for good measure and notice a long, red tail swaying from side to side like a cat's. he smiles wide, opening his mouth to speak and you're suddenly face first with an insanely sharp set off teeth. those are way sharper than katsuki's, by a long shot.

he's a dragon.

"hey !" he chirps happily. he doesn't seem like that big of a threat, you dare even say friendly. friendlier than your dragon friend that's for sure.

"hi.." you say wearily, tightly clutching onto your door preparing to slam it in his face should he give you a reason to. he seems to realise you're suspicious of him, as he backs up a little bit, raising his hands up in surrender.

"don't worry, i mean you no harm ! honest !" he reassures, looking you up and down. he seems to find something funny because he snorts but tries to hold it in. you look down and realise you're wearing your most ridiculous set of sanrio pyjamas, with cinnamoroll slippers to match.

great. very awesome. just perfect.

you look away from his and he seems to sense you starting to become flustered, (his senses sure are sharp, you'll give him that) lighthearteldly chuckling "i like your...footwear" he jests pointing with his chin towards your feet "very cute."

"did you need anything ?" you mutter, refusing to look at him because you feel like you'd explode from embarrassment. he jumps a little, seeming to remember what he came for and nods " yeah, actually ! i don't know if you'll believe me, but i'm a dragon."

"i can tell." you respond

"ya don't seem to be all the shocked.." he chuckles, looking a little dissapointed. it's kind of cute and you crack a small smile

"let's just say you're not the first dragon i've met." he nods, humming to himself and you can't tell if he actually heard you, let alone understood you.

"well, that makes things a little easier." he says " i'm actually looking for someone, a friend of mine. he's been missing for a little while and i'm looking for him." he explained

you raise and eyebrow in question "and what makes you think he'd be here?" you asked suspicously

"my buddy's real strong, so i could sense his mana output was somewhere around here ! i was gonna go from door to door, but it felt the strongest over here, so i decided to check your residence first !" he beams.

oh wow.

you don't even want to imagine what would've happened if someone had seem him like..that outside of their door. you can just thank the heavens above he came to your door first. nevertheless, he seems harmless. and he's pretty endearing, you're heart can't help but squeeze for him a little bit.

"oh, well—"

"what the fuck are you doing here ?!"

you and your new dragon friend both jump at the booming voice belonging to none other than your blonde dragon roommate, having just returned from doing the groceries. he doesn't look pleased, unlike his friend, who's breaks out into a grin seeing him.

"bakugou, man !" he rushes over to his friend, his tail happily following along. he clasps his hand behind his friends back, said friend doesn't budge and opts to glare from the corner of his eye.

"what the fuck are you doing here, shitty hair ?!" katsuki growls again, hands tightening around the grocery bags. you wince at the harsh nickname but his friend doesn't even flinch, probably already used to your dragon friends potty mouth.

shitty hair (?) simply laughs "what type of question is that ? i came here to get you !" his friend throws an arm around his shoulder and katsuki's jaw tightens.

you can't wipe the look of shock on your face fast enough because katsuki notices it. his eyebrows furrow as he's sure you'd heard what his mysterious companion had said, not that you could miss his frankly loud voice.

a beat passes and katsuki just shakes his head, grumbling at his friends words." i didn't ask you to come for me."

his hold loosens just slightly on the grocery bags in his hands and he sighs, shaking his friends shoulder off and walking past you both into your apartment, you both follow after him.

"c'mon man ! everyone's been worried about you !" kirishima pleads, accidently bumping past you to reach his friend. bakugou insists on ignoring him, stuffing the groceries in the fridge and the pantry "you've been gone for way longer than you usually are when you get mopey, so i just wanted to check up on—"

bakugou throws his friend a pointed glare, the heat of his stare causes his friend to flinch and his tail to drop. bakugou clenches his fists once, then twice and goes back to putting tonight's ingredients away "get lost. i don't need you to check up on me." he all but growls "i'm obviously fine, so tell the others to quit worryin.'"

"as if ! what am i supposed to tell them ? that you're suddenly working for humans ?" his friend seems to remember your existence and turns to you, waving his hands around " a— a nice human, of course !"

as confused as you are, you offer him a small smile "no offense taken." he smiles at you, sharp teeth on display, you miss the way bakugou slams the fridge door a little more harshly than usual. "i'm not workin for them ! as if i'd ever stoop that low, don't fuckin' insult me !"

"w-well what am i supposed to get from...this ?!" his friend gestures towards the now empty grocery bags in katsuki's hands. bakugou rolls his eyes and opens his mouth to respond when you cut in.

"uhm, excuse me ?"

this might be the stupidest decision you've ever made, standing in between two huge men who also happen to be dragons was definetly not something you expected to happen in your lifetime.

"i can tell you have..issues" you trail off "but i would like to get some things straight first, alright ?" you look to both men for answers. your unexpected guest nods obediently while your grouchy friend simply grunts in response, looking away from you. you sigh.

"alright first," you turn to the red haired dragon man " who are you ?" he jumps, rubbing at his nape, suddenly bashful "oh, right ! sorry, how rude of me !" he apologizes to you so easily. he's been suprisingly easy to deal with and you're starting to doubt what bakugou said about other dragons being meaner than him.

"the name's kirishima ! kirishima eijirou ! i'm sorry i didn't introduce myself sooner" you hear bakugou scoff behind you but you choose to ignore it, nodding at kirishima's words. "..alright kirishima, what do you want from bakugou here ?" you ask, nodding your chin behind your back towards your spiky haired roommate.

kirishima nods " bakugou suddenly went missing after an incident happened at our ten-year-tournament. i didn't bother looking for him at first, cuz he likes to be alone when he's brooding." he chuckles nervously "but he didn't show up after a few days and suddenly we realized he had dissapeared. i couldn't just give up on my bro, so i went looking for him." he explains.

"well ya found me, whoop-dee-fuckin'-doo." katsuki deadpans " so now you can fuck off—"

you fix bakugou with a sharp glare, and he clamps his mouth shut in suprise, before grumbling to himself, deciding to kick his shoes off. you sigh, focusing back on kirishima who looks shocked for a reason you don't know, then fixes his gaze on you again and straightens up, you look at him funny but you don't bother asking him about his behavior.

"ten-year- tournament ?"

"yeah !" kirishima bellows like you're a sergeant "it happens every decade between multiple different factions within our kingdom to avoid resorting to an all out war" he explains " we organize a tournament with representatives from every faction to take part in a sort of all out combat tournament !"

" the winning faction is granted a significant advantage and influence. the tournament serves as a means to determine a balance of power and settle disputes peacefully." katsuki adds on from behind you, with kirishima nodding along excitedly.

your jaw practically drops to the floor as you process the information. bakugou looks damn near constipated when you look back at him in shock. he squirms and shuffles around refusing to meet your eye.

bakugou scoffs for the umpteenth time today, shoving his hands in the pockets of the pants he chose out a few weeks ago when you'd went to the mall "...s'not that big of a deal.." he mutters, basically to himself but unfortunately for him both you and kirishima hear him.

"what ?!" you both exclaim, bakugou squints harder, his expression souring. you turn to kirishima and he doesn't need to be asked anything to know you want to know more. he continues nervously, despite having bakugou's glare concentrated on him as if telling him to be quiet.

"basically, bakubro over here fougth against someone from another faction, but it didn't end well."

"fuckin' bastard played dirty.." bakugou snarls behind you.

"right..and this is where we are now" kirishima finishes, sweatdropping.

you nod, eyebrows furrowed. you feel like the puzzle pieces are connecting, but you're somehow just as confused.

"so, what you said about that duel stuff yesterday, and you being replaced—" you turn to bakugou, who finally decides to look at you and it stuns you a bit, you try not to let it show too hard.

"replaced ?!" kirishima repeats "no way, man ! you're our best fighter, there's no way you'd get replaced"

bakugou's eyebrows furrow a bit more in response, his expression bitter as he looks off to the side, you can see the hurt he's trying to mask with anger " 'm obviously not the best if i fuckin' lost.." he chokes out lowly. your heart hurts for him and you want nothing more than to bury your fingers in his hair and have him purr into your touch to make him feel better.

" we all know that yuma guy didn't play fair ! maybe we could have some kinda—re-tournament or something !" kirishima tries encouraging his friend but it's futile as bakugou's jaw tightens again, glaring daggers at his friend, silencing him.

"don't be dumb. there's no way that's ever gonna happen, the elders are gonna see what they wanna see, whatever we have to say doesn't fuckin' matter." he says through his teeth.

" but—"

"enough, kirishima." bakugou snapped "forget it." it's all he utters before walking off to bathroom, slamming the door behind him.

it's so quiet you could hear a pin drop, kirishima and you hold your breath until he let's out a hopeless sigh.

"hooooh, maaann...i messed up bad.." he covers his face with his hands, groaning into them. you walk up to him to rub his arm comfortingly. you don't really know what else to do but try to confort him.

"hey, it's alright just-give him some time to cool off, he gets cranky after being around humans for too long" you chuckle. kirishima offers you a tiny smile, letting out a huff of laughter "well, he doesn't encounter humans long enough to get cranky at them."

you tilt your head in confusion "what do you mean ?" you ask.

"bakubro doesn't like humans, he makes that..really clear" he sweatdrops, his tail swishes slowly. "but i've never seen him take anything from a human before," he looks down at you and flashes you a cute grin "he must really like you !"

your heart skips too many beats.

it pulses like it did yesterday, when he'd been so close. with his breath against your face and his face so close to yours and his lips so close to-

"hey, you okay ? you look a little sick.." you feel something hard against your forehead, then realise it's his pressed against your own "do ya have a fever..?" he mutters almost to himself.

you jump back damn near five meters away from him as you process how close he is. he's way less shy about being physical compared to katsuki, by a long shot.

"i-i'm okay ! no need to worry about me ! m'fine !" he pouts at your response " we must have freaked you out, right ? m'sorry for the outburst." he apologizes, bowing his head a little. maybe it's because he's so nice or you've gotten used to petting dragons, but you place your hand against his spiky hair, rubbing at it softly "it's really not your fault, no need for apologies."

his eyes widen for a fraction of a second then dilate and his tail wags like a puppy's. "okay..f'you say so." he mumbles shyly, his voice now barely a fraction of what is was before " thank you, human.."

you're about to respond when the bathroom door opens and your met with bakugou, who's face morphs from his usual grumpy resting face, to confusion, to being damn near enraged. kirishima's about to talk again, possibly trying to convince his friend to return with him but katsuki marches over before he can even take a breath and proceeds to rip your hand out of kirishima's hair with a growl.

you gasp in surprise, his hand is so warm around your wrist. it makes you feel warm all over. kirishima tries to speak again but is interuppted yet again and if you could think straight you'd feel bad.

"kirishima." katsuki growls lowly, grip still secure around your wrist "come outside with me for a second."

kirishima looks at his friend, then to you and your arm in his grip. then nods, his eyes are a little wide "okay, sure." he says. katsuki grunts in acknowledgement and kirishima walks off ahead, not before offering you a wave and a cheery 'it was nice to meet you human !" you offer him a weak wave in return, still stunned.

before he leaves, katsuki turns to you. he looks down at your hand like he'd forgotten he'd grabbed it. he looks up at you, ears and face reddening, but he doesn't make any move to let go. instead, he harshly grabs your hand like a ragdoll and places it ontop of his head. his eyes remain fixed onto your face, your heart beats so fast your afraid it'll blast out of your chest at this rate.

it takes you a minute but almost reflexively, you curl your fingers to start scratching at the mop of hair on his head. he closes his eyes almost immediatly, chuffing into the air as he leans into you just slightly when you scratch at the spot right next to one of his horns.

the entire interaction takes up 5 seconds, but you feel like decades just passed by, and you really don't mind much. katsuki opens his eyes slowly to look at you. his eyes shine like he has something he wants to say, like he's debating if he should say something.

"i'll be back.." he whispers, voice low and gravely.

"okay.." you whisper back "don't be long. you're makin' dinner tonight, right ?" you giggle.

he huffs in your face and some smoke comes out, he let's out a barely there chuckle when you scrunch your nose up at him " dumbass, don't think i forgot it's your turn. you're lucky m'letting it slide tonight." he snickers. you tug at his horn and he snarls at you. before leaning back up again. he looks at you for just a moment longer then turns away out the door.

the butterflies in your stomach fly around in a fury, flapping their wings away as a dazed smile pulls at your face. you're satisfied enough for now to ignore the seed of doubt growing in your stomach.

" woah, there's tons of humans here, huh ?" kirishima says.

katsuki merely grunts in response. they had decided to settle down at a nearby park. it's crawling with humans and katsuki is somewhat dissapointed to realise he isn't all that bothered by their presence anymore. not as much as before at least.

"it’s annoyin." he mutters halfheartedly, leaning against the park bench they were sitting on, he sighs. kirishima chuckles kicking some at some sand, frightening some pigeons nearby. "this place is real peaceful, i can see why you've been here for so long."

bakugou scoffs "wasn't originally what i was plannin’. you think i'd willingly spend my time mingling with humans, shitty hair ?"

"well, kinda seems like it's what you were doing with the human you're living with" kirishima quips, innocently shrugging to himself "just an observation." he adds.

"spell observation, then you can try to act smart with me, dumbass."

"hey, not cool ! i'm not stupid !" kirishima whines. he can't help himself and chuckles. bakugou cracks a faint smirk.

" i wasn't gonna live with that shitty human, just happened to blast through her apartment after losing that stupid tournament. was injured an’ she let me stay till i got better, or whatever." he explains. kirishima furrows his eyebrows, visibly confused.

"i mean, you woulda been blasted off pretty far, but it's been weeks man.. have you gotten weaker or-"

"of course not, shitty scales !" bakugou growls "as if that weakling extra would've gotten me that bad."

"but..you're healed now, aren't you ?" his red haired friend asked. katsuki cringes at the way he's hesitant to answer him.

"yeah.." he utters.

both men stay quiet after that. katsuki sees a man walking his dog and a couple with a little girl in between them.

"you like that human a lot, don't you." kirishima speaks into the silence. katsuki doesn't respond. he sees two humans walking together, smiling and holding onto each others hands.

"tch. as if i could like that shitty human.." he says. kirishima can hear his friend doesn't sound completely sure of himself, despite being the last person he expected to ever be unsure of himself. the blonde barely lasts a minute before sighing to himself. he leans his forearms against his legs.

"i think.. i think she's..y'know.." katsuki groans, grabbing onto his hair, trying to hide his face to cover up his embarrassment. kirishima only smiles to himself knowingly. kicking his feet up slightly in the air. he scratches his hair in the spot his horns usually are, it feels weird to hide them, he thinks.

"yeah, i know." kirishima answers "so, what do you plan to do ?"

"i don't know" katsuki huffs, letting his hands drop from his hair to back onto his lap. " i don't fuckin' know.."

katsuki returns about an hour later.

you're a little saddened to see that kirishima isn't there with him. "did kirishima leave ?" you ask loud enough so he can hear you from the entrance. he doesn't respond as fast as you'd like him to, the seed of doubt forms again. he walks up to you right infront of the couch and your eyebrows furrow when you see his expression. he refuses to look at you like he did yesterday, your heart squeezes.

"he's waitin' outside" his voice is barely loud enough for you to hear, you turn down the volume of the movie you're watching to hear him better. you see him squint at the floor like he's upset about it.

"oh." you snuggle into the couch, trying your hardest to get comfortable "is he coming over for dinner ?" you ask.

katsuki clenches his fists, taking in a breath "no, he—listen." he looks up at you and his eyebrow furrow harder, it's heartbreaking and you want to reach out to him but you can't bring yourself to move.

"i..i have to go." he says, keeping his eyes on you.

you feel like someone just punched you in the gut.

you don't know how or what to feel. you knew he wouldn't be able to stay forever, you're both completely different. you have different lives, different routines--you're fully different beings. but somehow you'd tried to convince yourself that you weren't all that different from each other. that because you'd gotten used to watching movies, bickering, cooking for each other and folding laundry together, you'd thought maybe things could be different. you could've made this your routine.

"o-oh. oh." you say, voice wobbly "oh, yeah, okay..but your injuries.."

"it's fine i—" he cuts himself off, taking a deep breath. you don't like seeing him like this. katsuki decides he hates the look on your face more than anything. " i was supposed to leave a while ago."

your heart hurts, so so much. it hurts because the look on his face shatters you. it hurts because his words are shattering you. you can't help but feel a little stupid, dragons were really something else. they're not like regular humans, of course he wouldn't heal like one.

"okay..okay." your grip on the remote tightens so hard it starts to hurt. katsuki bites at his lip, he stands there like he's stuck to the floor. the conversation is over. no tears, no screaming, no fighting. it's over but his body won't allow him to move. like he should stay, stay where he feels right.

he should stay here with you.

without another word, katsuki turns around and leaves.

you sit there on the couch for a moment longer, watching his back as he walks away from you. going back to where he actually belongs.

back home.

you feel a giant lump in your throat, your eyes cloud up as you hear the door close behind him along with the low sound of the movie still playing on your tv. you lay down on your couch and cry. tears roll down your face as you shove your head deeper and deeper into one of the pillows and sob.

it seems it was your turn to make dinner tonight, after all.

AAAANNND it is done ! ngl i kinda felt a lil pain in my chest writing this LMFAOOO ughhh my hate love relationship w angst is doin number on me rn :(( welp anyway i had alot of fun writing either way , and i hope you enjoy reading as well ! sorries it took so long ml's

taglist ! : @sikuthealien @rosemarygalaxy @guccirosegold @slashersl0t @queenpiranhadon @k0z3me @katsuisbaby

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gremlingottoosilly · 10 months

Text

[If you need to be mean] chapter 2

Chapter 1

Konig decided to meet his new favorite civilian at the cafe you work at. Unfortunately for both of you, you're both socially awkward. TW: Konig being a huge pervert, Canon-Typical violence, Dub-Con, Innocence kink, Age difference(Konig in his yearly 40, Reader in young 20)

Pairing: Konig x fem!Reader Tags: Fluff, Power Imbalance, Hurt/Comfort, Size Kink, Possessive Konig, Yandere Konig, Creepy scary stalker Konig, written mostly from Konig's perspective

— Did something good happen, colonel? You are practically shining.

Horangi always had this special ability of telling nonsense with the most serious face and deep voice. He also was the only one in his unit to ever be brave enough to joke with his superior – even though all the other KorTac members usually don’t risk their asses to be put on fire list because of some silly joke. He is the closest König has to a friend – and it’s kinda sad, actually, that a broken gambling addict is the only person who can read his emotions so well, even with his hood and permanently sour expression.

But something good did happen – you happen, of course.

He spend a few days of self-reflecting, drinking and punching training manekens in the gym, trying so fucking hard to put your adorable civillian face out of his mind. You were out of sight alright, but the way your features would get distorted into something even more adorable every time he closed his eyes, was concerning. He dealt with those little obsessions before – nothing that a few good rounds of jerking off until he would feel nothing but emptiness and hatred to himself couldn’t handle. He surely can’t fall that deep down, he only saw you for like an hour and it was literally three days ago!

— I read your reports about the last terrorist encounter. Good job, Horangi.

— And I heard about that civilian girl you pulled, sir. Thought we are bringing those to the police, not their houses.

— I had to make sure she wasn't a spy.

— And she wasn’t?

König thinks – would be far easier if he would have an official, legal reason to keep you locked up on the base without the right to come out. Would be far easier for him to just think about you as an enemy, so he would have normal reasons for thinking about you constantly, and not feeling guilty. It’s normal to think so much about your enemies – this is what keeps you alive on the field, if you can determine their shortcomings early and make sure that you can fight them. He would love having you as an enemy – it would at least give him some info before starting obsession over little ol’ you.

— No.

— That would give us at least some lead to the terrorist cell. Feels like all locals are protecting them from it.

— I understand your frustration. But at least they are not cutting our pay.

— We might as well rebel if they’d try to.

— We are not stepping on terrorist’s route.

— I was joking, sir. Only thing that’s left here except for card games.

Horangi hates stationing in this country as much as König is – and, given that he is a sergeant and doesn’t have as much rank expectations, can talk about this openly. This operation is perfect except for the lack of intel, lack of action and lack of basically anything to do – the local forces are handling minor threats, while mercs here are mostly to show off how the government has money to hire them. KorTac would pay for actually having to fight some bad guys around here – but the bigger ones are hiding and lower ones are already getting tracked down by the local military.

The only interesting thing to do, seemingly, is to obsess over local girls – and König thought he is better than this.

But he isn’t losing sleep over thinking about how scared and fragile you looked that night. Especially not even going to think about how adorable your little pout was, and the way your hands were trembling. He definitely doesn't want to know every tiny detail about your life, what you like and what you hate, what is your favorite position in bed and the color of underwear you are currently wearing – or even if you are wearing one. And he isn’t some sort of creep that would spend an obnoxiously long amount of time registering on social media – god, he is too old for this shit, it literally feels even more humiliating than his whole school experience – just so he can find your accounts and get instant masturbation material.

You really shouldn’t post so much half-naked photos – yes, this is a reel from your last summer vacation and yes, this swimsuit looks beautiful on you, but have you ever considered that some creep(not someone like him, he is palming himself very respectfully) would use those photos as a way to get themself off? Terrible, scary, he can’t wait for you to post some new photos – maybe in something that he would buy you, way skimpier and more expensive, so he could protect you from those people.

He looks at your posts about work – and he hates this stupid blue bird app because it never works for him, always filled with some assholes who are trying to argue with literally everyone, and the way he can’t even see your posts properly because of the weird ads. No, he doesn’t need a “Thing that would make your dick longer” he literally has a problem with making it smaller. No, he doesn’t need some dumb T-shirt even though he kinda reflects with the funny pun about pokemons and would love to wear something containing his major interest even though it would look ridiculous on a 6 '10 killing machine.

But König reads all of your short posts about the way you hate working in customer service, and his hand is almost slipping to the ad about wedding rings. You hate your job, he hates his – practically soulmates, even though he doesn’t really hate the killing part of his employment, he just doesn’t want to be in charge of people and making them steal the fun of destroying. He would, however, agree to get as many ranks as possible if that would mean providing for you. If that would allow him to be by your side and listen to your sweet voice, he would agree for the next promotion even if higher ups would want him to make some PR wawes and become a fucking fashion model.

But he is completely sane about you. Totally normal. Absolutely nothing is wrong with him when he can’t even think about visiting you in real life, but he leaves a like on every of your posts in every social media he has – you have terrible online safety habits by the way, he can already see what the inside of your apartment looks like, your place of work from three different angles, and how the front door of your apartment is held together by a very easy to destroy lock. He could snatch it in one deliberate kick, not even speaking about just shooting it. Not like he would need to, he wants you to be with him willingly. Or, at least, don’t fight him too much in case he would actually lose his patience and do something drastic.

It has already been three days and he feels like he is going crazy. He had those things before, overthinking about tiniest details in someone he never truly knew, but even then he’d understand that he can’t be with them – it could be his school crushes that were, ironically, crushed because of his anxiety. It might be some casual flings with his fellow soldiers that would either get killed in the field or never happen because it would be fraternization. Some random people he saw at the airport and already imagined life with multiple kids and a dog. He always knew he had a problem – but it was never like this before. Never dangerous.

The problem is – he knows that he can have you.

Maybe not in a traditional way, he doubts that you would just marry him on the spot, but he can court you at least. He can shower you with gifts or ridiculous tips at your job, he can just snatch you away and leave you as his perfect little bedmate. He can make his men kidnap you, and while it is inhumane and you don’t deserve this, he would calm you down – and then have his happily ever after.

He knows that he can have you – and it drives him crazy. He could stop himself previously, when he didn’t have anything for himself to be considered desirable – but now, with his rank and all the new opportunities and money it brings, he can’t stop but fantasize.

You under him, panting and blushing, lips puffy from kisses, skin glazed from sweat and marked with his teeth.

You under him, so wonderfully tight, not letting him go even for an inch – and you are perfectly taking him, no matter how gigantic he is.

You under him, smiling, cuddling after a long night – every night after a mission, where he could spend his free time deep in your body, listening to your melodic moans and little whines.

You under…

— Can I…can I take your order, sir?

He is a disgusting human being because lives of thousand people are on a stake, he would just doom them all if he wouldn’t find those terrorists soon – and he wastes time on sitting in this tiny ass cafe, trying to place himself on the small seat while being all too nervous to just talk to you. Like a person. Of course he had to go to your shift – he already determined which days you were working because it increased the number of angry “I hate my job and want to kill my manager” posts on that dumb social media, and he knows which hours you work at – of course it’s almost night time, the closing shift, because he simply can’t have himself not worry about you.

He is a creep, weirdo and all that words in a song that he’s been blasting in his tiny headphones all of these days because he can smell the sweetness of your perfume and the way you are munching on the pen you are using to write his order. Oh, yes, order. He is supposed to order something, he can’t just give you money for how adorable you look in that white apron – even though you are absolutely stunning and should get money.

God, he would murder everyone in this building just for them to never look at your legs again.

God, he would bury himself between them if only you’d allow him to.

— Sir, is everything okay?

He served in the military for far longer that you lived, probably. Most of his life, he got used to being referred to as something honorable, or referring to other people like that – and he never thought that just being referred to as “sir” would make his dick twitch in his pants. He crosses his legs, hoping not to get too imposing – he already towers over the tiny table like a giant he is, barely even fitting in it. He thinks he has a healthy amount of self-control – then he looks at you again, and thanks all the gods he knows for the mask he is wearing – at least under the black surgeon piece and dark glasses you won’t really see his blush. Or that little twitching in his eyes that is indicating danger.

— Sorry, I…can I, um, have a coffee? Bitte…please, I mean.

He hates how nervous he is – like high school again, asking his crush out just to be ridiculed. But you look perfect like this – controlled environment, you can’t just laugh at him and say that he is a weird nerd from another class, you have a manager who is controlling of such behavior. He would never tell on you, of course, he wants you to be happy, even if this job makes you the most miserable – even though he kinda thinks of you as a weak for this, his job literally involves killing people and he doesn't argue that much!

But you giggle – sweet, innocent sound, it drives him crazy even more than he previously was. It doesn’t feel like those girls at school – yes, he still can’t let that go, even though his therapist says he has to – and he loses all control at how beautiful you sound. He wants to take you away right now, pay you for your workplace however you get them, and just use you as he wants – no matter how socially unacceptable. He protects this country, he has the right for a little prize, right? No, this would be terrible, he shouldn’t just harass sweet little civilians like you, he should…

— What type of coffee, sir? Do you want some dessert?

This is a typical question, he was at cafes and coffee shops a thousand times but, for some reason, it feels almost like you are teasing him. You bite the end of your pen with those adorable teeth of yours – he wants to feel it on his fingers, he wants you to leave bite marks all over his body as a sign of marking him as yours. He smiles under his mask, hoping that you would somehow feel it – how happy you make him feel, how hard it’s for him not to lose control.

— No. Just coffee.

— Sugar?

He would like some sugar, of course – but the one he wants is probably not for sale, even though that adorable white apron of yours makes you look like a candy. He would love to unwrap you from those silly clothes and devour what belongs to him for the right of protector, but he knows how scared you might be. He is not a good person, he killed more people that he could count – countless fathers, sons, mothers, he shouldn’t even think about having a right for a family of his own after all of this. He is not a good person and his moral code changes with every kill he gets – but for hell sake, he wants to be nice with you. You deserve it, he knows. More than he is, for sure.

König doesn’t really like sugary stuff, it was always too childish, made him too energetic, disrupted his very peculiar way of eating things. Sweets makes him only more hungry, makes him crave more, and he wants to be as serious as possible – so he usually drinks and eats stuff that is no tastier than a pile of dry sand. But he responds before he can think, too focused on that shiny lipgloss you have on your lips. He would lick and bite it all – soon, he hopes.

— Ja. Thank you.

— Good choice, sir.

Your lips are curling into a small, shy smile and he likes sugar now. He isn’t sure if you are telling everyone that their order is a good choice, maybe you just want to get more tips, but he hopes that maybe, he is special. Maybe there is something nice happening to him after all. A small reward for not being a total monster on the last mission he had, even though he could. He can’t do anything but to stare at you, his only saving grace is the dark lenses of his glasses – he can’t wear his hood in civil situations, unfortunately, people would stare, stare, stare and that would make him want to pull their eyes out.

But you smile and he smiles also, even if you can’t see it. He is looking at your legs and, fuck, he is a disgusting old creature that preys upon younger women because he never had a positive experience before. He is a total creep and a monster that should be put down already – but he stares at your legs under that waitress dress, and he would pay your manager a few thousand Euros to cut the length of your skirt in half.

Then he sees all the others looking at you the same way – old people, young people, there aren’t a lot of guests at this time in the evening, most people are afraid of going into public places while the war on terrorism is going on. There aren’t a lot of people while it’s almost closing time, but he doesn't even want to think about all the other men looking at you like this. Devouring you with their eyes, probably leaving sleazy comments as you go through the small cafe, just as overworked as your other coworkers. He wants to take you from here.

You don’t deserve people looking at you like you aren’t even a person – only he can look at you respectfully, stripping you with his eyes. He can be soft for you, can be perfect – if you would just let him.

König doesn’t want to be a creep around you, but he was looking at your legs for five minutes already, picturing the way your body would look under all of these clothes, and his cock gets painfully hard. He thanks himself for wearing normal, baggy pants, not something tighter – at least his embarrassment is completely covered by his clothes.

— Here is your coffee. Anything else?

You look nervous, of course – but he seems way softer than he was a couple days ago, at night. The absence of his creepy mask is obviously helping, and because he is sitting, you don’t have to tilt your head too high, causing your neck to stretch uncomfortably. He looks awkwards, like a big dog that still tries to fit into his old bed, and it causes you to smile a little bit more. You made sure to place a couple of sugar cubes on the plate, so he could decide for himself, if he wants to use them all – but the mere thought of that giant of a man, a colonel, hardened soldier liking something silly and sweet is making you giggle.

He looks way softer than he was that night, and you can almost forget about how scared you were – how you were thinking that this would be the end for you, that one, overthinking part of your mind already making up the scenarios of getting martial lawed because of the broken curfew. You can even see his hair – and fight the urge to touch it a little. He is still who-knows-how-old and still a military presence in your peaceful country.

You still want to ruffle his hair.

He still wants to take your clothes off and make you his.

— Nein, thank you.

He stares at the cup for a good few seconds – if he wants to drink, he needs to actually take it off. He has many scars on his face, and his mouth sometimes feels like it has more dead skin than alive one – he doesn’t want to attract attention. Some people are already staring at his badge and how awkward a giant man like him looking in that cozy, tiny place – but he also wants you to see how much pain he can withstand without getting killed. How he can protect you from anything because there literally isn’t anything he won’t do for you. You would appreciate a man with scars, it’s a sign of bravery, right?

Then he thinks about all the times he would take off his mask and how people around him would look at him – with pity, with fear, with disgust sometimes even though he is certain that his face isn’t as deformed as some other parts of his body. He even almost managed to grow a beard once! Then he had to scrub it all off because hair was growing in very uneven patches and he looked like something crawled on his chin and died.

König fought in countless battles, spent his youth training to be the best killer possible, took part in many major conflicts and killed hundreds of people while feeling nothing but recoil. He isn’t afraid of anything – except for talking to people sometimes, maybe, and even now he is trying to work on it with his therapist, instead of just killing anyone who looks at him funny. He isn’t afraid of the dark, of death, of uncertainty in his life. But he is afraid of you looking at him unmasked and thinking that you, in fact, find him disgusting.

You almost want to take your time to look at what he will do – is he going to take off his mask? Is he going to drink right through the fabric? You have too much work to just stay at his table and stare, even if you want to – but you are trying to give him occasional glances as he just…sits at his table. Not even moving, just staring at the cup and sometimes moving his head to look at you – or just ornaments at the wall behind you. Yes, probably the ornament.

König sits at the table and, well, he doesn’t even want to drink his coffee because just looking at the way your ass sways under that terribly short skirt is enough to set him on fire. He wants to take you home with him – even though his home is all the way up in Austria. He would take you, you probably wouldn’t even be mad at you – you could be a perfect little family. He already waited too long to start one, never finding anyone who would win his heart for a long run but he was sure that this three-days-obsession would last long. He isn’t sure, however, if he likes it or not.

He ended up not drinking at all – he knows that he can’t just waste multiple hours, he already got his lieutenants covering the spot with paper work while their commander is away at searching for the love of his life. He wants to be with you longer, probably walk you home again and make sure to protect you from any creeps that would want to attack. He can’t have that, it’s obvious – he is a colonel, unfortunately, he is still on the hunt for those terrorists, he can barely give himself an hour of free time these days.

He already indulged in his fantasies too much when he folds a 100 Euros banknote and puts it into the bill – not sure about how much money it is here, not wanting to give you any trouble with exchanging currency, he just hopes that would be enough for you to at least not worry about food for a few days. Or buy yourself something nice – what girls like these days? Guns, books, some fancy lip gloss, a hat for their adorable little turtles? He would buy you a pet turtle, he always wanted one as a kid – right before his father said that all lizards are products of sinful corporations and a lazy pet like a turtle, unlike a giant dog breed, is completely useless and unmanly.

He doesn’t want to be here when you’ll get the bill – he is too afraid that he didn’t gave you enough, that you'd be disappointed. He would love to give you more, of course, but he doesn’t want to just shove you the money like you are some sort of cheap whore – he wants to give you gifts, something meaningful, to steal you from poverty altogether. König is an expert in infiltration and escaping arts, he can exit the location without anyone noticing a thing, even with his size – and then you look at him, directly into his eyes, covered by sunglasses – and your face is twisted in shock as you realize what exactly he left you.

— Wait, sir! Please, I…god, I will get you the change right now, I’m so sorry, it’s closing shift, I…I’m sorry, I completely forgot…

You are almost begging him to stop and let you give him his money, a honorable deed really – but all he can think of is how nice you would look on your knees, begging him to fuck you already. How perfect you would look all whiny and spoiled, asking him for something expensive, whatever your cute head would want. You would look so complete on his lap, tugging on his shirt and asking your daddy for a new toy. You would…

— It was a tip. Take it.

He wants to be able to tell you how perfect you look, how he wants to just throw you over his shoulder in a totally non-creepy way and make you his little wifey. How he would take multiple months of leave to just be with you, marry you, breed you. He wants to have a way with words, but they are useless to him – he can’t even say he likes you, it’s embarrassing, he is almost forty, he got his rank as youngest colonel in history of KorTac, he can literally have almost everything he wants – except for basic social skills.

He feels like a creep, an old man trying to steal that perfect girl from the shiny world, and he hates himself for it – but then you blush and he can almost convince himself that yeah, you like that creep too.

— I…shit, I mean, sorry…thank you, sir.

— Don’t wander at night again.

He feels like a scolding father and you giggle again, too innocent and naive to understand his thoughts.

— I won’t. Promise.

He then slowly leans closer, puts a hand on your shoulder again – goosebumps are running on your skin. His head is near yours now, he is whispering in your ear – and you are almost sure that you shouldn’t have come closer to him like this, that it’s unprofessional from your side, that everyone is staring at you. They are – and you try to ignore it, but…

— Wear shorts under your skirt next time. Never know who might look at your legs like that.

You would slap him here and there. You would scream and run away right now, but for some stupid, dumb, completely terrifying reason, you…almost like how protective he sounds. And the money he gave you is also helping – even if just a little bit.

König looks at the way you blush even more, and he knows already that he won’t ever let you go.

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