#our plans never fucking work why did I think this would be any different

[folightening]

venting in tags - I gotta scream into the void, please ignore

[findmeinforks]

Understanding - Paul Lahote X Fem!Reader

A little break up, make up one shot while I work on part two of stay 💕 as always, let me know what you think! 2.4K Words ❤️

You had been understanding. You had been so, incredibly, unbelievably understanding. You had been kind, patient, considerate. You had thrown every insecurity away in your mind. You shoved your feelings right down your throat.

But that was over with now.

Now, you faced him. In the middle of the yard, your throat agonizingly raw from yelling. You were shocked he hadn't phased yet, but he knew the minute he did you would take off. The pack, watching from afar and unbeknownst to you, were also shocked at his restraint.

"I would NEVER do anything to hurt you. Why won't you believe that?"

You laughed wetly through the tears. You were down right manic over what he didn't comprehend.

"Really?? You don't understand why I would be upset by ANY of this? Are you that fucking blind?"

Paul huffed through his nose, attempting to control his temper.

"I have a job, Y/N. There's new bloodsuckers popping up every day now and we have to make sure we're ready for anything. That means stacking up our numbers against them. Guy or girl, they have to be trained."

You scoffed, rolling your eyes,

"And don't you find it at all peculiar that everyone else is out on their own but you're STILL having to train this same girl? DAY IN AND DAY OUT?!"

He sighed.

"She should be ready, I know. But every time we get on patrol, she gets fearful and fails at basic exercises. Sam has me spend extra time with her."

You threw up your hands as if the answer was obvious, "Then TELL Sam to have someone else take a turn?"

"She only likes training with me."

Your eyes went wide, and all you saw was red.

"AND THAT DOESNT GIVE YOU ANY FUCKING CLUE THAT MAYBE SHES FAILING ON PURPOSE FOR YOUR ATTENTION? THAT MAYBE SHE DOESNT GIVE A SHIT ABOUT IMPRINTS? THAT MAYBE PERHAPS SHE HAS DIFFERENT INTENTIONS?"

Paul shook his head, him now scoffing.

"It's actually really hard to learn to navigate being a wolf. That's something YOU don't seem to understand."

You think you had lost your mind. It seemed as though the world crumbled around you, his words ringing in your ears from the impact. That was not something the imprint you knew before this would have ever dared say to you. It wasn't that you believed Paul would ever be disloyal, but your instincts were damn sure this girl wanted him to be.

You nodded, swallowing the lump in your throat.

"You're right. I don't. You need to be with someone that understands. We're done."

Paul stepped back like he had taken a blow to the chest. His eyes softened now.

"You....you don't mean that."

You headed towards your car, not being able to face the broken look in his eyes.

"Y/N, wait," he reached out, and even though you were mad, a part of it killed you to deny him.

You shook your head, new tears rehydrating their original streaks.

You sniffled, and took a deep breath.

"I'm tired, Paul. I'm tired of waiting up for you. I'm tired of being left unanswered for hours. I'm tired of making plans that just get canceled. Im tired of being lonely. And most of all, I'm tired of being disappointed."

He grabbed your arm before you could fully get in, and you saw Sam emerge, still at a respectable distance from the two of you.

"Baby listen, okay, I'm sorry. I can do better I-"

"You've said that before Paul. This is not the first time we've fought about this."

Tears pricked the corners of his eyes now.

"Please. Don't." He whispered.

He almost made you cave. You so badly wanted to stay. But you also knew if you did, it would be the same reoccurring cycle. He had to know you were serious. You wanted the relationship you had before she came along. Until you were sure you would get that again, you had to leave.

"I have to go. Call me when your priorities change." You said as you gently pulled out of his grip and shut the door. And with that, you took off to your father's place.

-

Paul stood planted in the same spot you had left him, shattered. What had he done?

He felt a small hand on his shoulder, a feminine voice in his ear,

"Maybe it was for the better. She seems like a total bitch."

Paul's blood turned cold. It was as if in that very moment, he had come to his senses. The smoke had cleared in his crowded mind. You were right. Of course you were right. All the stress that had been on his plate, he hadn't been thinking clearly at all.

He came to realization now, and it was too late.

Paul yanked away his arm, turning with a fury in his eyes to the woman behind him. She shrunk back under his gaze, feigning an innocence he knew good and well was all fake.

He trembled with anger, barely registering that Sam was now in between him and the girl. Paul pointed a finger at her, teeth gritting with anger.

"Get. The FUCK. Away from me."

Paul ripped apart as he phased, having it bottled up for far too long, and dashing off like a mad man into the woods.

The woman gaped like a fish, starting to babble, turning to Sam for reassurance.

"I didn't do anything I-"

Sam huffed a breath through his nose, "You heard him. I think it would be best if you left. Embry's cousin or not, you are no longer welcome here. That's an order."

Sam shook his head, running a hand through his hair as she stormed off. He felt guilty for letting it get like this. He had some suspicions about her joining the pack, seeing as she was always gravitating towards Paul, but he had shrugged it off, too occupied with everything else going on.

Sam also knew too well what it was like to hurt an imprint. Physically or emotionally, the bond felt all the same. Strict alpha or not, he valued Paul as a brother, and just hoped you would come back for him.

-

As Paul laid his head onto his pillow, he watched the days go by before him. Being forced to come eat dinner by Emily and whenever he had patrol were just about the only times Paul left his bed. He would call you once a day, sometimes with a small hope you'd answer, and sometimes just to hear your voicemail. After his patrol shifts ended, he would often sneak off to your house, just to make sure he'd know you were safe, if even from a mile away.

-

"Do you think she'll ever come back?" Kim asked Jared quietly one day, after watching Paul barely eat his food and sulk back up to his room.

"I don't know honestly. Y/N is just as stubborn as he is. But I do miss him. I've never in my life seen Paul like this. His internal thoughts are depressing as hell..."

Kim sighed, "It's not like she's doing any better. She finally answered my call yesterday, and I had to double check who I was talking too. She's miserable, Jare."

He shrugged, "I mean what can we do about it babe? You can't get involved in people's business like that."

"They're not people. They're family." She mumbled as she clutched her coffee mug.

-

Another week had gone by, the pack all sitting in the kitchen getting ready to eat.

"Boys. We have information on the new vampires in town," Sam announced as he walked through the door with Jacob.

"They're after Bella. She had a run in with that red head we keep chasing to the border every night. Her boyfriend had tried to kill her so the Cullen's killed him, and now this bitch is assembling an army to take her out for revenge." Jacob relayed.

This grabbed Paul's attention. If they were after your sister, that meant you were in danger.

"We're going to help them fight. Our people are at risk if we let this get out of hand, or if the Cullen's lose. But until the army comes here, we're going to be sharing shifts with them to watch over the Swan house," Sam said, looking at Paul who was heading out the door.

"Paul."

"You can watch Bella from a distance. I'm taking my imprint home," he slammed the front door.

"I can't imagine that's gonna go good." Embry mumbled.

-

Your body jolted upright from the couch at the abrupt knocking on the front door. You hadn't been expecting anyone, Bella out doing who knows what with Edward, and Charlie hours away on a fishing trip.

Opening the door your breath caught in your throat.

"What are you doing here?"

"We have to go. Now." He said sternly, ignoring your bewildered look as he flew past you and up the stairs to your room.

"And just who the hell do you think you are?!" You stormed after him, appalled he was barging in your house like this.

"There's an entire army of vampires on the hunt for your sister. You're not safe here, I'm taking you to Emily's." he said as he grabbed a suitcase and started throwing random clothes in.

"You don't own me Paul Lahote. I'm not going anywhere with you." You crossed your arms as you looked at him incredulously.

He refused to look you in the eye as he spoke, his breathing heavy from your scent,

"It is still my job to protect you whether we're together or not. You don't have to talk to me at all if you don't want too, and you can sleep in the spare bedroom" He said as he continued to pack.

You laughed.

"Come to Emily's with her there? I think the fuck-"

"She's not there anymore."

"Ohhhh so because she's gone you care about me again."

He stopped, this time turning to look you in the eyes for the first time in two weeks.

"Don't you ever fucking say that. I could give a shit less about her. It's always been you. I'm....look, I'm sorry I didn't make you believe that before. You were right. And I was so unbelievably wrong. I understand why you don't want to be with me anymore. I'm not asking you to forgive me. Im asking, just for the time being, that you do this so that I know you are safe....please."

You wish you could have stopped the tears that welled up in your eyes. A part of you wanted to stay mad forever, just to make a point. But the other just wanted to wrap your arms around his neck and kiss him. Two weeks felt like two years apart from him, and your heart so desperately ached to be near him again.

"Fine," you whispered.

Paul looked like he wanted to say something more, his eyes lingering on yours, but he decided against it, zipping up your bag and heading to the truck.

-

Once you both arrived to Emily's the pack headed out to train with the Cullen's, leaving you both and Kim at the kitchen table.

"So you guys.....didn't make up?" Kim asked disappointed.

You shook your head, "He just wanted me here. He apologized and said he wanted me to be safe. It was left at that."

Emily reached her hand over into yours,

"Do you want to be with him?" She asked genuinely.

"I.....I mean," you sighed. "Of course I want to be with him. I just was so angry, you know?? I didn't like feeling that way in our relationship. Alone."

The girls nodded understandably.

"If it helps, he's been an absolute wreck without you. I think if anything it was a wake up call." Kim offered.

"I haven't been exactly living the best either," you slightly chuckled.

"Well. We are more than excited to have you back in the house. That being said, I'm going to need both of your help with dinner." Emily smiled as she looked at the clock, standing up.

You grinned, happy to at least be here with your friends.

-

It was the night before the fight. Everything was quiet, but you lie awake, your mind racing. You hadn't said much to Paul in the three days you were here. There were lingering stares, brushing past eachother occasionally in the hall, but no conversations had been had. You felt a pit in your stomach at the idea of this fight. What if something happened and you never got to see him again? What if the last thing you had between you two was this awkward tension? The more you thought about it, the faster the tears spilled down your cheeks. You sniffled hard.

A gentle knock at the door startled you, getting up you frantically tried to wipe them away.

There he stood on the other side, leaning against the frame. His eyes looked so exhausted, like he hadn't gotten sleep either in days. "Whats wrong?" He said softly, taking a look at your face.

His gentle voice was enough to send you flying into his embrace. You arms wrapped around him as you sobbed into his neck.

He held your waist as he walked you both backwards into the room, shutting the door. His hand caressed your face as he leaned his cheek on your forehead.

"Hey, hey. Shhhh. I'm right here. It's okay. You're okay. You're safe."

You leaned back just enough to look at him, shaking your head. Your voice was broken and trembling,

"I-I don't care that I'm safe. T-tomorrow. A-and you. What if we never-"

Paul used both hands to cradle your face.

"Hey. Listen to me. Everything will be okay. This is what we've been training for. It's us and the Cullen's against them, our numbers are stronger. I'll be fine, alright? I'm just happy you're here and away from harm."

"I can't live without you. I love you." You whispered.

Paul instantly kissed you. It was like a wave of relief and happiness washed over you as you kissed him back with every ounce of passion you could muster.

Both your tongues danced as you refused to pull away from eachother. Paul bent down only for a moment to hoist you up in his arms, taking you into his room instead.

Unfortunately due to advanced hearing, the house was no longer quiet that night.

[thewertsearch]

ERIDAN: for all that trainin you did ERIDAN: i wwouldnt be the incredible holy wwizard i am noww wwithout your help […] KANAYA: I Hope You Use Your Magnificent Powers Of Light And Hope For Goodness And Purity And Lets Not Forget Science

At this point. Kanaya is Human Sarcasming better than most actual humans.

ERIDAN: dont wworry im all ovver that shit you dont evven knoww KANAYA: Uh Oh I Hope That Didnt Come Off As Too Sarcastic […] KANAYA: Please Dont Take Too Much Offense ERIDAN: haha damn kan if thats your idea of offense bein made then i honestly gotta fuckin wworry for you ERIDAN: tell you wwhat ill givve you some lessons in dealin out the dark umbrage to repay you for your tutelage in the wwhite science

I think Dave taught Kanaya more about the art of trolling in a single conversation than Eridan could in an entire lifetime.

That guy can troll better than most actual trolls.

ERIDAN: wwhats that thing there KANAYA: The Matriorb KANAYA: I Was About To Go Hatch It In The Core To Restore Our Race ERIDAN: that sounds ERIDAN: hopeful […] ERIDAN: if theres goin to be any sort a hope for our race as the prince of hope i demand to be invvolvved ERIDAN: so dont go anywwhere wwithout me got it […] KANAYA: Fine

I’m all for the construction of neo-Alternia, but I really don't think Eridan should be on the planning committee, unless we also want a neo-hemospectrum.

Honestly, the only trolls I'd really trust to rebuild their society are the bottom half of the hemospectrum, and possibly Gamzee. The other highbloods can go sit in the corner.

ERIDAN: its not magic wwe talked about this kar KARKAT: RIGHT, IT'S POWERED BY SCIENCE, I FORGOT. KARKAT: OR HOPE. WHATEVER THE FUCK THAT MEANS

I don’t see how Hope translates to a robot-exploding beam, though.

If it was wizards he was blowing up, I’d understand, because it would be consistent with my theory that he's weaponizing his hatred of FRAUDULENT MAGIC. If anything, his Science Wand should strengthen a robot, since it's a product of the TRUEST SCIENCES.

ERIDAN: i had a harder time than anybody wwith this game ERIDAN: it wwas really fuckin unfair wwhat challenges i got saddled wwith ERIDAN: i wwoulda fuckin MURDERED for a land full of a lot a harmless brains and fire ERIDAN: but no ERIDAN: it wwas so lonely ERIDAN: hey guys anybody wwant to come hang out wwith me in the land a wwrath and angels

That sounds cool, though. Angels, I assume, are how Hope is represented in his Land, and I’m sure Eridan synergized well with its wrath. I wonder what physical form it took?

ERIDAN: anybody at all i knoww it isnt anythin like one of your flippin land picnics ERIDAN: anybody please ill evven settle for the kittycat shipper cavve girl

You can't complain about loneliness and then insult your ‘friend’ in the same breath. That's not how any of this works, and the fact that you're unaware of this should tell you everything you need to know about why you're lonely.

So Karkat does know about Nepeta’s little crush. He is a relationship aficionado, after all.

Poor Nepeta.

I sort of figured Karkat didn't reciprocate her feelings. He's preoccupied with plenty of other redrom prospects, and he basically never mentions her.

Karkat’s honestly a little too nice to Eridan. He’s being such a bro here, but what Eridan actually needs is to be brought down to size a little.

Granted, I think Eridan needs a bigger shock to the system than an angry tirade from Karkat. I feel like Terezi could tear him to pieces - but since it's unfair to expect her to put up with him alone, I'd put both the Scourge Sisters on this assignment. >:)

What Karkat is aptly demonstrating here is that there’s a difference between an Eridan kind of asshole and a Karkat kind of asshole.

Let's be real, here - Karkat's a dick. But he's a dick who holds no true malice, knows when he's crossed a line, and is willing to sincerely apologize for his past actions, and make amends.

Eridan possesses none of these qualities, which is why he sat alone in his house for a month while Karkat befriended the entire cast.

[stardustprompts]

vengeful  -  v.e. schwab  sentence starters change tenses/pronouns as needed !!  some lines have been edited for clarity / length / ease of roleplaying  tw :  death , violence , language , mental health

‘what a fucking cliche.’

‘envy really doesn’t suit you.’

‘don’t you turn that knife on me unless you plan to use it…’

‘you should have let it go.’

‘you can’t just do that to me!’

‘you’ve been gone for hours.’

‘you never said I had to play fair.’

‘that’s a risk I’m willing to take.’

‘you look like a narc.’

‘it feels like dying.’

‘people have an idea of pain. they think they know what it is, how it feels, but that’s just an idea. it’s a very different thing when it becomes concrete.’

‘I did this. I did this to you.’

‘I am alive because of you.’

‘you think I’m playing god? fine, you play, (name). you decide, right now, who should live. us, or them?’

‘it’s a big world. you’re not the only one with talents.’

‘isn’t it silly to lie when we both know the truth?’

‘I think sometimes you make the easiest choice instead of the right one.’

‘make me the villain of that night, (name). wash you hands of any blame.’

‘a promise you can’t keep is just another lie.’

‘I don’t want you to save me. I want to save myself.’

‘I warned you when we met, I wasn’t a good person.’

‘killing me won’t bring her back either.’

‘think hard. we all have to live with our choices.’

‘the next time you point a gun at someone, make sure you’re ready to pull the trigger.’

‘we survived. that's what makes us so powerful.’

‘blood is always family, but family doesn’t always have to be blood.’

‘not all family is blood, right? sometimes we have to find a new one. sometimes we get lucky, and they find us.’

‘this isn’t a stupid game. it’s my life.’

‘are you used to getting what you want?’

‘hasn’t it occurred to you that I can protect myself?’

‘in this world, in my world, people get hurt. they die.’

‘people die in every world. I’m not going anywhere.’

‘you want to be more, (name)? prove it.’

‘they may think they’re kings but we’re the power behind the throne.’

‘i’m not a fucking coat, (name). you don’t get to check me at the door.’

‘where I go, you go. we’re in this together. step for step.’

‘did you always know that you had what it took to end a life?’

‘I thought it would be hard, but in that moment, nothing was easier.’

‘you were never one to dwell on the past. I loved that about you, the way things always just rolled off.’

‘every end is a new beginning.’

‘I underestimated you once. I don’t intend to do so again.’

‘the only difference between us is that you naively insist on preserving what I know should be destroyed.’

‘I played god once and it did not end well.’

‘oh no, it will never work between us.’

‘sorry, didn’t mean to interrupt, you just looked sad.’

‘while I admire how far you’ve come, the fact is, you’re tracking mud into my home.’

‘we can’t shape our past. only our future.’

‘don’t you ever wonder if it’s our fault?’

‘life is more than an equation. a person is more than the sum of their parts.’

‘normal is overrated.’

‘A\a magician doesn’t reveal his secrets.’

‘every power has its limits.’

‘we don’t decide who lives and who dies.’

‘now who’s letting their ideals cloud their judgement?’

‘how quickly we devolve. people become animals the moment they are caged.’

‘if you were superhuman, what would your power be?’

‘ignorance is only bliss if you want to get caught.’

‘i’m still here, still doing what I can, because I want to keep people safe.’

‘never underestimate a woman.’

‘I thought I could save him. I tried. but it didn’t work.’

‘power belongs to those who take it.’

‘sharks come swimming when you make a splash.’

‘that’s quite a talent you have there.’

‘I only hope you’re ready to do the right thing,’

‘you help me, and I’ll help you.’

‘everything’s got a limit. you should find yours.’

‘I don’t feel anything.’

‘oh, sorry, if you thought this was a girl’s-night-out kind of thing where we get drunk and bond, I’ll have to pass.’

‘why settle for one weapon when you can have an arsenal?’

‘the life I had is gone. there’s no getting it back.’

‘the life I had is gone. there’s no getting it back. i’d rather make a new one. a better one.’

‘I thought you were done with hiding.’

‘people can see an awful lot, and believe none of it.’

‘why sit around sulking when you could hurt the people who hurt you?’

‘let’s talk about revenge.’

‘there are limits. I can’t stop nature. can't change it’s course.’

‘whatever’s happened to you, however you’re hurt, you’ve done it to yourself.’

‘oh, I like to think I have a great deal of nerve.’

‘if you had a damn bit of sense you would have run.’

'knowledge may be power, but money buys both.’

‘sometimes subtlety is overrated.’

‘when people stay in the dark, it’s easier to make them disappear.’

‘I don’t want to survive, I want to thrive.’

‘what now? you gonna throw yourself a fucking party?’

‘if I didn’t know any better, I’d think you had something against me.’

‘if I wanted you dead, you would be.’

‘whatever you’ve heard, it’s probably true.’

‘is there anyone who doesn’t want to kill you?’

‘how many excuses will you find to vindicate your own stubbornness?’

‘careful is a calculated risk. and I’m very good at making those.’

‘the truth is, there will always be someone stronger than you.’

‘you do what you can. you fight, and you win, until you don’t.’

‘once upon a time, power was determined by linage—- the age of blood. then it was determined by money—- the age of gold. but I think it’s time for a new age. the age of power itself.’

‘let me guess, I’m either with you or against you?’

‘you always preferred being predator to prey.’

‘we just have to lie low until it’s over, and then—’

‘when this is over, you and I are going to have words.’

‘it appears that we are evenly matched.’

‘it always comes down to this, doesn’t it? to us.’

[tealvenetianmask]

Not to overanalyze a joke (I would never do that), but this moment from the fucking penguin short says a lot to me about Blitz and Moxxie's relationship and why it's so rocky.

Moxxie: I first read this interaction as Moxxie messing with Blitz, not gonna lie. But after some reflection, I don't think he is at all. Based on how fucking dialed in to every single task Moxxie gets (think all of Unhappy Campers or how carried away he gets with paying the street vendors in Seeing Stars), I think he's just so fixated on taking the notes Blitz is dictating that he completely fails to realize when Blitz's comments start to be not for the notes.

I think it also reveals a way in which Moxxie fundamentally doesn't understand Blitz. As the audience, we can tell right away that when Blitz switches to complaining, it's not for the notes. But I could see Moxxie viewing Blitz as sort of unpredictable/chaotic and truly not knowing that he wouldn't want it included. Will he yell at me for not including it? Don't know. Better be thorough to do a good job! And then he gets yelled at for including it. Poor guy.

Even though he's often critical of Blitz, Moxxie relies on Blitz's approval for his self-esteem a lot. So he's used to getting yelled at by his boss, but it still hurts him.

Blitz: Okay, our guy has a short temper in general, but especially with Moxxie. From his perspective, Moxxie is doing something completely nonsensical, and yes, beyond stupid.

At the beginning of the penguin short, it's clear that Blitz doesn't want to do this job. He thinks that what the client wants is pointless, and besides, they have to go somewhere freezing. And we get quite a few clues that he's been feeling down about the whole Stolas situation and he's not excited to work any job, much less this one. And in the midst of all that, Moxxie is making a mess of the notes, so now it will have to be fixed. It's very annoying.

Also, Moxxie often has this air of superiority with Blitz. He likes calling out Blitz for having stupid plans, and he often comes across as judgmental. In Truth Seekers, we saw that he feels like Moxxie is smarter than him and/or judging him. So his annoyance might also relate to the idea that Moxxie is both judgmental and always fucking up.

If we want to stretch it a bit (yes, I know it's a stretch), Blitz is relying on Moxxie for accurate and quick notes because if Blitz's dyslexic ass did it himself they'd be a mess. He doesn't want to spend time fixing his own work OR Moxxie's work.

In all: No, I don't think this is a big moment in the plot by any stretch. I just think it's a really funny and interesting way to highlight some aspects of their dynamic, especially since the short later sets them against each other in *cough* other areas.

As a final thought, there are absolutely conflicting trauma responses impacting the friendship/working relationship between these two, and very likely differing neurodivergences as well. Blitz for sure needs to apologize to Moxxie for how he treats him, but Moxxie could maybe stand to explain and possibly adapt some of his behaviors as well. (Get all these characters good mental healthcare please.)

[enviedear]

save the date ⟶ james potter

DESCRIPTION ⌙ after an innocent suggestion that james potter is horrible at relationships, he feels inclined to prove you wrong. PAIRING ⌙ james x fem!reader CW ⌙ mention of food, eating food, petnames WORD COUNT ⌙ 2.3k

❛ ֪ ׂ shenanigans? is that what you call your love life? ֪ ׂ ❜

join my taglist | request | masterlist

for the second time this month, you’re spending your friday evening trying to drone out an argument. hilariously large and bulky headphones sit upon your ears— and yet you can still make out the aggravatingly grating noise.

if you’d known being james’ roommate would have entailed you hearing multiple fights from different girlfriends, you may not have signed the lease.

may not have— because a rent controlled apartment in the city is far too good to pass by.

truthfully, you felt a little bit bad for james. he was so good at picking gorgeous, captivating women. you could never fault his taste, no, you faulted his ability to be a boyfriend.

take this instance, a disagreement that started over dinner plans, only to devolve into a full blown argument. over what currently? you’re not exactly sure. but by the way the woman was yelling at him, you were sure he had said something stupid.

seconds later you can hear her huff, slam his door, walk down the stairs, and leave the apartment.

slowly, you remove your headphones, the noise of your music now being the only thing you can hear. you wait, looking expectantly at your door.

almost on some cue, james opens your door with a counterfeit smile on his face, “any plans tonight?”

you roll your eyes at him, “let me guess? non refundable dinner reservation and two tickets to the movies.”

he walks into your room, plopping down on your bean bag chair, “act nice or i’ll take sirius instead.”

you ignore him, “be honest, what did you do this time?”

“absolutely nothing.” he grumbles, shaking his head.

you didn’t believe him for a second. you’ve known james for four years now and you’ve lived with him for two. you knew in your soul that he, despite trying, always managed to do something.

he had a strange ineptitude for romance. it was as though he couldn't make it a week before his stupidity turned from endearing to unbearable.

he sighs, "she kept asking me if i had anything planned for our date— and i didn't want to ruin the surprise, so i just kept saying no. 'no, honey, i figure we'd wing it.' fuck— i didn't think it would blow up like that."

you gape at him, "but you did tell her, right?"

he shrugs, "by the time i thought to she was already leaving."

this was james, unable to keep a relationship purely because of his own doing.

"you're going to end up alone." you chuckle, fiddling with your phone to turn off your music.

james is silent, so you go on, "i'm saying this from a place of love, but you're horrible at relationships. almost criminally bad at them." your finger points at him, mocking.

he glares at you, tousled curls falling into his eyes, "i am not."

you grin, "yes— you are."

he ignores you, plopping down onto your bean bag, "and still i get more dates than you," he pauses, muttering out, "brat."

"you do not!" you don't mean to, but your voice comes out childishly.

james finally rids himself of his frown, smirking, "fuck's sake, calm down." it takes everything in you to not pelt him with whatever's near you. he has such a chuck-worthy grin.

it was often that the two of you would have these petty disagreements. mostly due to the close proximity of sharing the same space, but sometimes, you honestly didn't understand why both of you were so worked up.

you get off of your bed and squat down to his level, "i'm so close to throwing you out."

he smiles, and lazily pulls you down with him, "i didn't mean it, don't be mad."

you narrow your eyes, despite the grin on your face, "you're temperamental, potter."

he chuckles, eyes now closed, "and you're wrong."

you hum, arm touching his, "about what?"

he looks at you, "'bout me. that i'm bad at relationships."

you almost laugh at him, because if there was one thing you knew as fact— it was that james had a ninety-nine percent fail rate.

so you're easily coy when you speak, "oh, then please, prove me wrong."

your tone is playful, but james' eyes make you pause. he looks eerily\ honestly, determined.

"with pleasure." he says simply.

you don't say anything after. not for a few moments. you try instead to ignore the strange tightness in your chest at his words. wordlessly, you rise from beside him and open up your closet door.

"what time is this reservation?" you ask, subtitling watching his face brighten.

james smiles, "you'll come?"

you shrug, "i'll never turn down money spent well."

he laughs, "and you think my funds are best spent on you?"

there's a mischievous glint in your voice, "aren't i always the best cause."

he feigns annoyance at you, but goes to leave your room so that you can change. as you watch him go, and note the way his dress shirt hugs the curves of his toned back. often, you’d catch yourself admiring him. it was silly, but despite your usual chagrin of him and his antics, you found him so beautiful.

you’re barely concentating on the clothes he's wearing now, thinking instead to the half-awake version of him from last night, wearing only his plaid boxers and leaning against the fridge, a glass of water in his hand, eyes half-lidded.

and then, the james you so often see after a shower. his face flushed, hair tousled, and towel always riding just low enough.

of course, you noticed him and you tried not to lie to yourself about it. you found him attractive, sure, but that was all. you knew there was nothing else there, and you’d be an idiot if you let your mind even think there was.

putting your fascination with him to the side, you scour your closet for something presentable. reaching the back of your closet before finding anything, a flowy little number you had apparently hidden from yourself for god knows how long. you inspect it, and slip it on once you decide that the small wrinkles at the bottom of the skirt are inconsequential.

you do your makeup in the bathroom, james butting in often to try and hurry you along, "how many coats of mascara more? can we please leave?"

you shush him each time until you're finally ready, "there— see? that didn't take so long did it?"

he rolls his eyes, "felt like bloody years."

you chuckle, opening the door for him, "i don't even think i reached an hour, you brat."

he jingles his keys in your face, his assortment of keychains slapping against each other, "play nice."

it's safe to say you do not 'play nice' for the entire duration of the car ride. you take immediate ownership of the radio instead, queuing all your favorite songs. james protests for five or so minutes before shaking his head with you and singing along.

the restaurant he's chosen is a suedo-modern fusion steakhouse— horribly expensive— and you can't help but feel a little out of place as you step inside. james, however, seems right at home. he greets the hostess by name and leads you to a private booth in the back.

as you sit down, you eye him, "what?" he asks, sipping his water.

"how often do you come here. i mean, they seem to know you." you're smirking, finding it quite funny.

james shrunches his face, "no, actually, my parents have insisted on eating here for my past six birthdays."

you hum, "i forget mommy and daddy are wealthy, you should really advertise it more. as an incentive." you're kidding of course, james reeked of rich kid. in the nicest way.

he gestures at you with his butterknife, "you think i haven't pulled that? c'mon honey i'm not completely daft."

you chuckle, taking a sip of your own water. watching as james continues, dwelling into a story about work. you've already heard it but you'd feel wretched to tell him. so, you listen, watching his brown eyes and strong use of his hands with each adjective used.

you've almost blocked everything but him from your sense when the waiter returns, placing down an appetizer you're sure the two of you didn't order.

you look to james, who's in the middle of placing his order. he sends you a wink.

you fumble through your own order, cursing yourself for not looking at the menu more thoroughly.

"do you even know what that is?" james asks when the waiter walks away.

you roll your eyes, "yes james, i'm well aware of the french word for fish."

he shrugs, "can't hurt to make sure." there's a pause, "d'ya like the wontons?"

your face morphs into a smile, "you ordered this?"

"yeah when i made the reservation, don't feel too special." he's got a shit-eating grin on his face, freckles more prominent in the overhead light.

you tease, "i'll remember this next time you're in need of my assistance."

he leans back, feigning innocence, "hey, i'm just trying to create a memorable dining experience."

the conversation continues to flow, easy and familiar. it doesn't surprise you, how comfortable you are with james, even when he's being his usual cheeky self. the food arrives, and you both enjoy the meal, trading bites and sharing stories. it's one of those moments when you forget about the world outside and just relish in the company of a friend.

as dessert arrives, james leans in a bit closer, his tone shifting to something more serious. "you know, i appreciate you putting up with my shenanigans. not just tonight, but all the time."

you raise an eyebrow, a playful grin on your face, "shenanigans? is that what you call your love life?"

he chuckles, but his gaze is sincere, "yeah, that and everything else. you've been there for me, and i don't say it enough, but i'm really grateful."

you feel a warmth in your chest at his words, and for a moment, the playful banter fades away. "you're not so bad yourself, potter."

he smiles, a genuine one this time, "i'd hope so."

an hour passes by, and you're both lost in conversation when you realize the restaurant is beginning to close up. with a sigh, you both gather your things and leave. the night air is cool as you step outside, and you find yourselves walking down the quiet streets back to his car.

as you stroll, james looks over at you, his expression soft, "you know, i might not be great at relationships, but i've always liked what we have. you're more than just a roommate to me, you're like my confidant, my partner-in-crime, and my closest friend."

you feel a flush of emotion at his words, a mix of happiness and something you can't quite put your finger on. "you too, potter. just don't let it get to your head."

he grins, slipping his hands into his pockets, "wouldn't dream of it."

the two of you continue your leisurely walk, the city lights casting a warm glow around you. it's a somewhat quiet night, but the silence is comfortable, the kind that comes from years of shared experiences and unspoken understanding.

as you approach the car, james stops and turns to you, his gaze searching yours, "you know, i might be awful at relationships, but there's one thing i'm certain of."

you raise an eyebrow, curious, "and what's that?"

he opens his car door, soft smirk on his face, "i'm pretty sure i've already found the best thing in my life."

your heart skips a beat, but your eyes roll, "smooth, potter. really laying it on thick."

he chuckles, a hint of nervousness in his eyes, "i mean it, though." he proceedes to give a light shrug before getting into the car.

you chuckle and follow him, "you're insufferable."

he smiles, turning to head to you, "you can say whatever you want, but you know deep down you love me."

you slide into the passenger seat and playfully roll your eyes, "maybe i just have a high tolerance for insufferable people."

james starts the car, and as he pulls away from the curb, he glances at you with a mischievous glint in his eyes, "ah, so you're admitting it now, are you?"

you laugh, shaking your head, "i said high tolerance, not undying affection."

he grins, focusing on the road, "well, that's progress, i suppose."

the drive back to your apartment is filled with lighthearted banter and comfortable silences. when you finally arrive, you both step out of the car and make your way to the entrance.

as you approach your apartment door, james turns to you, a playful grin on his face, "you know, i have another surprise for you."

you raise an eyebrow, curious, "oh really? and what might that be?"

he reaches into his pocket and pulls out a small box, presenting it to you with a flourish, "ta-da! a box of chocolate-covered strawberries, your favorite."

you take the box with a surprised smile, "well, well, james potter, you're really pulling out all the stops tonight."

he chuckles, "just trying to prove that i'm not a lost cause in all things romantic."

you open the box and take a strawberry, popping it into your mouth with a satisfied hum, "i have to admit, this is a step in the right direction."

james grins, looking almost proud of himself, "i'll take what i can get."

you both head inside, and as you settle back into your apartment, you can't help but reflect on the evening. despite his usual antics and relationship mishaps, there's a side of james that you've come to appreciate more and more—a side that values your friendship and makes an effort to show it.

as the night winds down and you both prepare for bed, you find yourself sitting on your respective beds, sharing a comfortable silence. you glance over at james, who's focused on scrolling through his phone, and you can't help but feel a sense of contentment.

"hey, potter," you speak up, breaking the silence.

he looks up, raising an eyebrow, "yes, my dear roommate?"

you smirk, "you know, you might be onto something with this whole 'proving me wrong' thing."

he grins, setting his phone aside, "oh, am i winning you over, then?"

you shake your head, a teasing glint in your eyes, "let's not get ahead of ourselves. but maybe, just maybe, you're not as hopeless as i thought."

james leans back, looking satisfied, "i'll take that as a victory."

you both exchange smiles, and in that moment, you're reminded of why you agreed to be james potter's roommate in the first place. despite his esoteric personality, he's genuine and loyal, and always there to bring a smile to your face—even if it's through exasperation.

with a smirk you get up, making your way upstairs before calling out, "I'm free this Sunday, might as well give you a second date."

[angelwhisp3rs]

⋆｡ ﾟ☁︎｡ nuance

Pairing: DI!Leon x Fem!Reader

Summary: Always at eachothers throats, they just don't know they've been doing that in a lot of ways.

Tags: Smut; fluff; p in v; oral (m); i imagined reader being 23-25 and leon in his late thirties; breeding kink; brush play (shh its hot don't judge it); reader is called bunny; daddy kink; enemies to ???; leon is a perfect soft dom; clit spanking;

Notes: hehe older leon makes heart go brr; also: i changed the characters in the header, bc jasmine and alladin looked whitewashed (i always put a filter on the header to tone down the colors on the collage bc i always think they look like a hot mess unfiltered). I wanted to apologize and explain to clear any misunderstanding, and i'm sorry to have ever caused any doubts, i aim to make this a safe space for everyone!

Minors do not interact!

Whenever they went on the field, the rest of the agency always wondered how they came back alive, seeming as if they could, they would the other by their own hands, no need for bio-weapons. They were always bickering, Leon with his cocky ways, and her with her serious and diligent one.

No one ever understood how they worked, but their results never lied: a mission that usually took weeks, was successfully squashed in days; their cases solved higher than anyone else’s in the whole organization.

Everyone kept teasing Leon for working with a “human leash”, while the women teased her for not trying anything with him, since he was so ‘perfect and dreamy’ - their words, she would rather be dead than ever say that.

It always bothered him how she was too correct. Always with a bun in her hair, and her squared glasses, she hated whenever they didn’t follow her plans, believing that Leon definitely had a death wish, and was pulling her into a suicide mission every time.

In her case, it bothered her that he was a show-off, always doing way more than it was needed, just to prove how “awesome” and “skilled” he was. While fighting with an infected with chainsaws, instead of just walking back, he just did a fucking flip. Why?? He saved the president’s daughter, for fucks sake, there was no need to prove people that the was the goat. That encounter always made her seethe, since when he ended the battle, she only looked baffled at him as his cocky smirk never fell once from his stupid, and way too handsome face.

On the field and in life, they always had their differences, wondering everyone how they kept being scheduled together, but with the interesting thing that life is, they managed to find just one place where they could meet their interests.

'•.¸♡ ♡¸.•'︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵'•.¸♡ ♡¸.•'

“Just like that, bunny”, he grunted breathless, hips moving to meet her face, holding her hair in place.

Fucking her pretty throat as her eyes got teary, he felt how thigh and warm it always was, always begging to be fucked with his big cock. Her hair was down, her cheeks all blushy and she behaved beautifully on her knees, Leon sitting on his bed as he drilled into her sweet hole.

“Love fucking you like this. Always the perfect way to celebrate the end of our missions”

She whined in agreement, her face wet, as her spit coated his member and his heavy balls, since he hadn’t fucked his pretty toy in so long. She gagged and rolled her eyes back, loving being used as a fuck doll, seeing that hunk lose himself in pleasure as he used her smaller body.

“G’nna give my bunny her favorite meal”

He grunted out, cumming in her throat and making her swallow it all, watching as a line of spit connected her abused lips and the pink head of his fat cock. He had a relieved and proud smile as he panted, pulling her up to sit on his lap and pressing kisses to her overworked lips and sensitive neck.

“So proud, baby. Daddy's little throat sleeve, aren't you? Gonna reward you for being such a good little girl” 

He spread her legs as she sat on his lap, her hips squirming on his hold, making him hiss as she ground her perfect ass on his spent and sensitive member. At that, he slapped her right thigh, making her whine.

“Don't make me punish you, bunny. Daddy just wants to play properly with his toy”

“Too needy, daddy, ‘m sorry” 

Leon taking pity on her, managed to lock her legs apart with his strong ones, letting his fingertips travel through her soft skin.

“I know, baby girl. Bunny always needs her little cunt to be played with, and I've been neglecting you, hm? Don't worry, gonna reward you for being such a good doll for me”

With a slight and feathery touch, he caressed her thighs, moving up to the top of her mound, and descending to her wet and puffy cunt.

“Will you let me stretch and play with this hole, baby? Till you are too sore to close your legs?”

She whined in response, nodding eagerly.

“Yeah, it's gonna feel so nice, isn't it, bunny? Then, I'll use you some more since you are gonna display yourself so nicely for me”

As he said his filthy words, his teasing fingers began to softly touch her pussy up and down, just barely there. She was creamy for him as if he taught her pussy to get ready for his thick dick.

She tried inching her hips up, desperate for more friction, but he put his fingers away, slapping her clit. This made her keen and throb around the air, the pain feeling welcoming on her puffy, wet button.

“Fuck… I knew you were gonna enjoy that. Little sluts love to feel pain, right? And I just got the prettiest one to play with”

He spanked her cunt again, making her sob at the friction, her hunger heightening tenfold since it's been weeks since she felt any contact at all. 

“Daddy, please… need you to play with my pussy”

“Behave and I will then”

Taking pity on the girl, his fingers circled her clit with a little more pressure than the last time, his other hand scissoring her lips open to grant direct contact with her. She moaned and tried to keep her hips from moving, squirming just a little as his fingers brought her into delirium. 

“Good job, bunny. Let me use you, daddy's just gonna appreciate his bunny's little cunt.”

He stayed like this for minutes, till she creamed on his fingers, her thighs almost cramping from being spread like that. After she came, he massaged her legs, kissing her cheeks and jaw.

“That's it, baby, made me so proud. I know you are sensitive, but can daddy play with you some more?”

He asked as he pinched and rolled her erect nipples, making her clench again around nothing as she squirmed on top of him. She nodded, and he grabbed something from his nightstand that she couldn't see.

“Saw this on a video and almost came in my pants. Kept imagining myself playing with my baby like that as she made a mess”

He moved her to lay comfortably on the bed, letting her spread her legs again. He pressed an adoring kiss to her clit, making her moan. He chuckled, groaning at her taste on his lips.

“As much as I wanna eat this pussy, don't wanna overwhelm you. Later I will, angel” 

Then, he grabbed what he had hidden from her sight: a makeup brush. The bristles looked soft, with a round top. She looked at him curious and kinda unsure: is he seriously planning to fuck her with his thin thing?

He chuckled at her reaction. “Not gonna do what you think I will, doll. And I promised I washed it thoroughly before you came, I didn't want to harm you. Do you trust me?”

She nodded, and it was the truth. As she trusted him with her life on the field, she trusted him to heighten their pleasures to highs she had never felt. She was always pleasantly surprised whenever he planned something new, so she trusted him to make it good.

Sensing her newfound trust, he tentatively toyed with her clit as he brushed it gently, her hips twitching at the new feeling, not feeling bad at all.

“Good, bunny?”

“Yeah, daddy”

Glad with her approval, he kept “brushing” her cunt as if he was a painter making his new masterpiece. He always pressed the item firmer on her swollen little clit, watching as her slick gathered on the item and her entrance.

He grunted at her moans and the sight. The video was hot, sure, but seeing this in front of him made him want to go crazy and fuck his cock into the sheets like a fucking teen.

She was sensitive already from the spanks and his fingers, and now the soft bristles made her pleasure skyrocket. He began rolling and going back and forth with it, and she knew that she was done.

“D-daddy!”

“That's it, baby, cum again. Let daddy keep having his masterpiece”

She groaned and held tightly onto the pillow underneath her head, legs shaking but not daring to close as he played with her, her heartbeat quickening by the second.

Soon enough, she came hard, seeing stars. It wasn't a completely different feeling or a potent sex toy, but the novelty and thought behind it made it so hot that she swears that she almost passed out.

He kissed up her legs, letting her lay down on her side as she shivered in pleasure, moving behind her and hugging her.

“That good, bunny?”

“Y-yeah, fuck. Don't even know why” She giggled, her mind pushed deeply into that sweet and welcoming submissive place her job never allowed her to reach, but the asshole behind always granted her.

“It looked even hotter to see. Cock throbbed so much I thought I would cum untouched.”

“Maybe you are losing your hand, daddy”

“Says the shaking bunny from a mere brush”

She giggled, turning her head back and kissing him. Her gentle hands moved to his hair to let her fingers caress it as his strong and big hands push her more into him, trying to be patient but his cock screamed for attention.

“Daddy, want more” She begged between the kisses.

“So do I, bunny. Let my fat dick kiss your womb, baby” 

He raised her leg to his hips, allowing both to keep spooning as he gently slid his shaft in her, groaning at her wetness and warmth. He put his foot down on the bed to use as leverage, and as he held onto her flesh, he began thrusting.

The position was so intimate that it made his mind think things that he never had before. And honestly, it made his heart ache the same way it had done previously with Ada. Fuck, he didn't want to think about that now.

He fucked her harder to make him forget about it, which wasn't hard since that was the first opportunity he had, other than her great blow job, to properly blow his load inside his bunny's hole.

She held tightly onto his hand, the other one supporting her leg up too, as she screamed and drooled in pleasure, completely cock drunk. He groaned at his baby's situation and moved his hand to her abused clit to rub it again.

“Can't hold it, you were so hot, baby… gonna blow my load deep into that delicious” thrust, “wet” another thrust, “thigh” another one, “cunt” he thrust harder.

She was babbling nonsense, feeling the welcomed pressure on her lower tummy again, begging him to cum in her and breed his bunny. Her voice and pussy tightening around him made Leon feel like he was about to explode, so he kissed her roughly.

Both came together as they shared a kiss, her legs shaking as they felt him coating her gummy walls with his much-needed cum. He gently lowered her leg, staying inside her as he kissed her neck, tending to her gently to not make her drop.

Sex was always the best way to find a middle ground, after all. Maybe tomorrow they would be back at screaming in each other's faces, but with their voices just a little strained, since right now they only wanted to scream in pleasure.

[fictionalreads]

Can you please do an Armando x reader angst 🙏 I don’t know abt what lol I JUST WANT HEAPS OF ANGST SO I CAN BALL MY EYES OUT AND I WANT THIS MAN TO BE GROVELLING LEFT RIGHT SND CENTRE 😭 lol sorry abt that love ur work bae💗💗 Make sure to get heaps of rest and stay hydrated 🧘‍♀️💆‍♀️🫶

A/N: Soooo... reader didn't wanna talk to me. Or more accurately I think, Armando wanted all the attention. I'm sure I'll eventually be struck with inspiration for an Armando x reader angst and I'll definitely tag you in it, but for now I hope you enjoy this Armando angst.Title is from Lonely by Benny Blanco and Justin Bieber.

No One's Listening And That's Just Lonely

Fandom: Bad Boys

Prompt: Armando reflects on times in his life that he's felt alone.

Warnings⚠️: Our boy is lowkey depressed in this one. Might be a line that could be seen as morbid.

PHOTO IS FROM @yeahnohoneybye I JUST DON'T KNOW HOW TO GIVE THEM CREDIT WITHOUT TYPING IT OUT LIKE THIS

Armando Aretas was used to being alone. After being ripped from his mother’s arms at just six years old, he learned to embrace the feeling. He was forced into preparing for his mother’s grand plan which included gun training, fight training and emotional resistance. There was no room for a six year old’s sadness over being alone. The people his mother had training him definitely weren’t the type to go and cuddle with, they were more likely to punish him for being so weak that he expressed his fear. Not that his mother was any better when he was with her.

“Otras personas te decepcionarán, mijo. Confía en ti mismo,” she’d say when he was young and upset that he couldn’t play with the other children in the prison. He was small, but it was a prominent memory from his short time with her, the first lesson she taught him.

He should’ve listened to her, maybe then he’d have heard her subtle warnings about herself.

When he was eighteen, a freshly minted adult that was on top of the world, he had thought her old saying paranoid. He had loved going out and meeting people, befriending them. It came naturally to him, but his mother had her people keeping him on a tight leash. The few times he went out, he kept his cover pretty well, never telling anyone anything real about himself but just enough they wouldn’t be suspicious. 

Until he met a girl that is. She had been different from the quick fucks he’d had before, holding actual conversation with him and keeping him on his toes. He’d loved her spontaneity, it being a breath of fresh air from the rigid routines he was used to. He had slowly dropped breadcrumbs of what his lifestyle was really like b behind closed doors, testing the waters to see if she was about the life or if she’s run for the hills. Every small test he set in place for her she passed with flying colors. He was so sure she could handle it that he told her everything. At first it seemed like he was right about her, she stayed by his side. Then one day she disappeared, no word from her at all. He went to her place and saw she had packed some things, it looked like she had been in a hurry. He initially worried that she went to the police so he played low for a few weeks, but when nothing happened, he just felt hollow.

The one he was supposed to rule the world with was gone, she had left him. He spent weeks questioning every interaction. Where did he go wrong? What signs had he misread? Did he really misread them or were they obvious and he just refused to see what he didn’t want to? Had she ever really loved him? Why wasn’t who he was enough for her to stay? Why was he destined to walk this life alone?

Thinking back on it, his mother hadn’t been pleased his attention had been split and probably had her killed.

Prison hadn’t felt as alone as he was expecting. He knew other people would be around but he’d been surrounded by people all his life and still felt alone. His cell was in murder row, the nickname for the solitary unit he was in. He wasn’t exactly friends with the others in cells in his solitary unit, but they were better than nothing. He spent time with them sometimes when they got the chance to go to the yard, sometimes preferring to workout and enjoy his hour in the sun alone. 

It probably helped that his father would visit him at least twice a month, more if he could swing the travel time. It had been interesting getting to know the man he had thought was an enemy. He hadn’t attempted the corny get to know you spiel, preferring to stick to business which was fine by Armando. Armando had learned a few of the mans quirks just through the small amount of conversation they had. But his father usually showed up to ask him for information, an effort to cut down his extremely long sentence, so it lacked the warmth that would chase the cold feeling of loneliness away.

A loneliness that hit worst at night when he would stare at the gross ceiling of his cell and wonder what could have happened if he had known his father from the start.

This alone was different. He was lying down in the boat his father had put him on to flee Miami, blood slowly dripping out of his side. The motor on the boat had long ago canned out on him, he didn’t have the strength or the tools to try and fix it. He was currently floating in open water, no land in sight. He wondered if he would bleed out, or starve to death first. Maybe he’d dehydrate, he had no access to fresh drinking water. 

He figured the loneliness felt different because for the first time, he didn’t have a tether to something else that brought him out of his self pitying. His mother was dead. He didn’t have anyone he loved waiting for him to come home. His father had sent him away knowing he’d probably never see him again, albeit he also probably assumed Armando would survive. But what was the point? Everything he had been taught growing up was a lie and everything he did ensured he couldn’t come back from those actions with a clean slate. For the first time in his life, he hoped the police would catch him. 

He didn’t want to die feeling the worst feeling in the world, feeling like there was nothing for him. He’d rather keep living and find hope for a life he could build that he should have had from the start.

Translation:

Other people will disappoint you, my son (darling). Rely on yourself.

Taglist (I'm gonna tag for all Armando pieces unless you ask me not to):

@yeahnohoneybye @bootlegroach @omg-mymelaninisbeautiful

[steddieasitgoes]

@steddiemas Day 5 Prompt: Grinch vs Christmas Cheer

Tags: Modern AU, Eddie Munson & Jeff, Steve & Eddie Are Neighbors, Teacher Steve, Meet Cute

wc: 1863 | Rating: T

Read on ao3 | ao3 collection

“I thought you said you talked to them?” Eddie groans. He tips his head so far back he wobbles in the chair for a moment before he rights himself and buries his head in his hands. “I can’t work under these conditions!” 

“I don’t think planning a campaign counts as working,” Jeff teases. 

They’re in their apartment kitchen. Jeff cooking something that smells a hundred times better than the vending machine sandwich he had for lunch at the shop. Free from his day job, Eddie’s working on something he actually cares about now. The latest Dungeons & Dragons handbook is open to a random page while his trusty notebook sits open. There’s no use in hiding it from Jeff. It’s not like he could decipher Eddie’s chicken scratch penmanship anyway.

Besides, he hasn’t gotten much of anything done since he plopped down on the worn leather chair. It’s hard to work with the blaring sound of Mariah fucking Carey’s Christmas album playing on repeat for the third day straight coming from their neighbor's apartment. The obnoxious whirling of the fans keeping a dozen or so Christmas inflatables blown up on their shared stairwell and balcony also doesn’t help. 

If this continues any longer, Eddie swears he’s going to find them a new place to live. The peace and quiet would be worth losing out on their rent-controlled place. At least, Eddie thinks so. Christ, he misses the Richards who moved last year. He’d take their scowls and snide comments over this Christmas madness any day. 

“It absolutely counts as working,” Eddie scoffs, shooting a glare in Jeff’s direction. “And don’t change the subject, Jefferson. Did you even talk to Mr. and Mrs. Claus next door?”

Jeff snorts, shaking his head before returning to the pot of sauce he has simmering.  “No, I didn’t and I’m not going to.” 

“Jeff!” Eddie whines. “Your job as the approachable one of this house is to confront our neighbors when they’re annoying us.” 

“Okay, but they’re not annoying me.” 

“Well, that’s a lie. You hate Michael Buble as much as I do and I know you heard his stupid crooning voice at seven this morning like I did.”

“Okay, you’ve got me there,” Jeff sighs, turning away from the stove to face Eddie. “But I can’t tell them to lower their music! Not when they haven’t complained once about the shit you blare at all hours of the night or our Corroded practices when we have nowhere else to go.” 

If Eddie was less stubborn, maybe he’d see that Jeff has a point. But he is stubborn, so he doubles down instead. 

“That’s different.” 

“It’s really not.” 

“Fine,” Eddie shouts, throwing his hands up in defeat. The headache festering behind is eyes is too painful for him to keep arguing with Jeff. Besides, he’s never been able to push Jeff around. It’s why they make such good roommates. “Can you at least talk to them about their decorating habits then? I had to wade through a fucking forest of inflatables this afternoon. M’pretty sure Frosty the fucking Snowman almost punched my balls.” 

“Eds, need I remind you that a few days ago you had the entire place decked out for Halloween? How is a few inflatables different than all those skeletons and demon shit you had up?” 

“First of all, how dare you compare my artistry to whatever is going on outside,” Eddie scoffs. He’s going to give himself a sore throat if he keeps this up. “I have taste. My decorations told a story! Those inflatables aren’t even from the same properties. They’ve got Santa Mickey next to the fucking Grinch! Charlie Brown mingling with Yoda! There’s no plot!” 

Jeff’s shoulders slump, forearms coming to rest on the kitchen counter so he’s at eye level with Eddie. “Just look on the bright side. At least they haven’t done one of those obnoxious light shows like that stupid reality show.”

As if Jeff accidentally summoned a demon in the form of Christmas cheer, a burst of red and green floods their apartment. Their once dimly lit kitchen looks like the inside of a club, red and green lights flickering with the occasional white and blue mixed in. The flickers are timed with the beat of another Mariah Carey Christmas song. 

This is what hell must look like, Eddie thinks, as he glares at Jeff. 

“What did you do?” 

“I didn’t do anything,” Jeff defends, hands up in surrender. 

Eddie can seem him struggling not to laugh and it takes all the energy he can muster not to reach around the counter and playfully punch his shoulder. How can Jeff think this is funny? The flickering lights completely goes against their moody aesthetic! Not to mention it’s a health hazard! There’s no way Gareth is going to be able to come over here — not with the way he’s so sensitive to strobes. 

Jesus H. Christ and it’s only November 25th! He has to put up with this for weeks! 

“It’s not funny, Jefferson!” 

“I mean,” Jeff snorts, biting the inside of his cheek to keep his smile from growing. “It’s a little funny.” 

🎅🏼 🎄 🤬 🎅🏼 🎄 🤬 🎅🏼 🎄 🤬 🎅🏼 🎄 🤬 🎅🏼 🎄 🤬 🎅🏼 🎄 🤬 🎅🏼 🎄 🤬 🎅🏼 🎄 🤬

The lights have not fucking stopped. Not for one single day. Eddie had hoped his neighbors would have grown tired of the constant strobing and Christmas music by now. But nope. A week and a half and its still going strong. 

He’s going to lose his goddamn mind. 

“Jeff,” Eddie hisses, lifting the blanket of his makeshift fort enough that he can make eye contact with Jeff. Or at least, try to. Jeff’s perched in their recliner with the biggest pair of sunglasses Eddie’s ever seen. “Please. I can’t take much more of this!” 

“It’s not that bad.” 

“I might have believed you if you weren’t wearing those ridiculous things,” Eddie snorts. He waits for Jeff to retort but when he doesn’t, he groans and slowly emerges from the safety of his blanket fort. Christ he forgot how bright those damn things are. 

Stalking over to their small entryway, Eddie hastily tugs on a pair of boots and reaches for the doorknob. 

“What are you doing?” Jeff asks, voice laden with concern. 

“Someone has to confront the neighbors!” 

He doesn't give him time to respond, yanking the door open and slamming it shut behind him in one fluid movement. It should be a short trip to the neighbor's front door, just a few long strides, but Eddie forgets to account for the fuckton of inflatables cluttering the path. He ducks around Frosty, flipping him off when his stupid wood arms nearly deck his balls, again and forcibly shoves Mickey’s face away from him. 

It takes another bit of carefully navigating before he finally reaches the front door adorned with a festive wreath. These people really left no spot undecorated. Eddie doesn’t spare them the decency of a nice, neighborly knock or ring of the doorbell. They’re way past that. Instead, he makes a fist and slams his knuckles into the wood door, and keeps going. Knock. Knock. Knockknockknock. 

They probably can’t hear him over the damn music, Eddie thinks, as his knuckle turns redder and redder. Just when he’s about to retreat and face Jeff’s smug wrath, the door opens. 

The first thought that passes through Eddie’s mind is oh, he’s hot. The second, more vital thought, comes a moment later. He’s going to kill Jeff. How dare he not disclose how attractive this guy is the minute he met him months ago? 

The guy, who Eddie vaguely thinks is named Steve, looks just as surprised to see him as he is. Decked out in an obnoxious Santa-themed apron and green plaid flannel pants, his cheeks are spotted with flour and his hands are stained a faint red color. Judging from the delicious aroma of vanilla and peanut butter wafting into the hallway, Eddie interrupted some very serious baking. 

“Oh, you’re not the Instacart shopper,” maybe Steve frowns. “Can I help you?” 

“Oh, uh,” Eddie trails off. He’s here for a reason, he knows this, but his mind is blank. Distracted by the smells and the lights and the gorgeous fucking man standing in front of him with hazel eyes so sparkly Eddie’s pretty sure he belongs in a cartoon. “I’m Eddie, your neighbor.” 

I’m Eddie, your neighbor? 

This cannot be the same brain that creates intricate, plot twist-ridden campaigns that last months. Absolutely not.

“Ah, so you’re Jeff’s roommate! It’s nice to finally meet you. I’m Steve.” 

“Right, Steve” Eddie nods. He’s not sure why he nods, it’s not a normal thing to do when you meet someone, and yet, he can’t stop nodding. Stop fucking nodding! 

“So, uh, what brings you by?” Steve asks, casually leaning against the doorframe. 

“Oh, I uh…” The lights. You were coming here to complain about the lights! “I came to tell you, uh… I could smell you baking!” Oh my fucking god. “You know these walls are thin and we, uh, share AC vents or something I think? So the smell was filling our place and it smelled so good I just, uh, had to come over and see what you’re baking?” 

If Jeff was here, Eddie’s pretty sure he’d be two seconds away from collapsing in a fit of laughter. Thank god he’s not. As soon as he gets back to his room, he’s going to take a lukewarm shower and try to forget this entire interaction ever happened and then hide from Steve for the rest of his life. 

“Oh, I’m making peanut butter cookies.” Steve’s smile is almost as blinding as the twinkling lights and like a moth to a flame, Eddie can’t look away. “One of my students has been having a rough time and they’re their favorite.”

“Damn, maybe if I had a teacher who baked me cookies I would have done better in school.” 

Steve laughs, “Tell me about it. Actually, uh, do you want to help? I’m allergic to peanut butter and my best friend is tied up at work. I could really use a taste tester. Make sure they’re edible.” 

“Oh, uh…” Eddie glances over his shoulder and takes in the sight of the sea of inflatables staring at him with their beady painted on eyes, squints at the obnoxious flashing lights keeping time to a terrible cover of “Jingle Bell Rock.” Together it’s the reminder he needs as to why he trekked over here in the first place, but when he turns he’s hit with a punch of peanut butter and well… “Not to toot my own horn, but I am a pretty good taste tester.” 

“Perfect,” Steve smiles, pushing himself off the doorframe. “Kitchen’s this way.” 

🎅🏼 🎄 🤬 🎅🏼 🎄 🤬 🎅🏼 🎄 🤬 🎅🏼 🎄 🤬 🎅🏼 🎄 🤬 🎅🏼 🎄 🤬 🎅🏼 🎄 🤬 🎅🏼 🎄 🤬

Eddie returns an hour later. Belly full of joy just peanut butter cookies, but also chocolate chip, and gingerbread, and some cinnamon concoction that had him considering a marriage proposal on the spot and a tupperware overflowing with said cookies. 

Jeff is still in the living room, sunglasses shielding his eyes, but Eddie knows him well enough to know he’s judging him. 

“Don’t say a word,” Eddie sneers, heading straight for the kitchen. 

[cacoetheswriting]

celebrity skin. (part two)

pairing: rockstar!eddie munson x popstar!fem!reader word count: 6.5k summary: your night with eddie continues to haunt you. and now you have to work together — what could go wrong?

content warnings: 18+, minors dni: smut with a plot, oral (fem receiving), aftercare, suggestive & mature themes, other mentions of sex (nothing graphic), adult language, use of pet names, mutual pining, emotional hurt / comfort, topics of guilt / regret — if i missed anything, pls let me know!

psa: images used in the header don’t depict readers physical attributes! these are also described vaguely in the story, only that she’s a little shorter than eddie.

celebrity skin. masterlist

Eddie Munson hurt your feelings.

Granted, you were just as much to blame. Rockstars are always nothing but trouble and you knew that when you jumped into bed with him.

‘Cause why would Eddie Munson be any different from all the other musicians you’d slept with in the past? He gave you no reason to think otherwise. He never promised you anything.

Letting him occupy your heart and mind after only one night together was your own damn fault, though it was easier to blame him. And you could make a list of excuses, reasons as to why you did what you did, but it really came down to one simple thing: Eddie seemed… different. Almost as if he also wanted to continue this past some single fling.

You asked to stay over. He immediately agreed.

Why? If he was only going to say the night meant nothing to him, why did he agree? Why did he pull you under the silk covers and wrap his arm around your bare shoulder, placing a gentle kiss to your crown? Why did he hold your hand close to his heart, allowing you to feel his heartbeat as he opened up about his past? Why did he let you trace your fingers along his scars?

If it was just about having sex with you, why did Eddie act like he cared what you thought of him? He could have kicked you out the second you came down to earth following your orgasm, not kiss you again with a feverness that made you believe he was silently begging for more — which foolishly, you gave him.

Then you didn’t call immediately, like you said you would. Again, only you were to blame here, but in your own defence, you didn’t think he’d act so coldly towards you. It was just one delayed phone call and he knew better than anyone how plans often change when you’re in the limelight.

Proof was in the pudding. Eddie didn’t like you nearly as much as he led you to believe he did — as much as you liked him. 

And it was fucking foolish of you to fall for him the way you did. Holly thought so too. She actually had a lot of opinions after you told her why you bailed on her at the party.

“Boys are all the same,” she stated while applying the finishing touches to your makeup. “They have one thing on their mind and when they get it, no matter how sweet they act towards you, you’re unfortunately disposable.”

“Eddie doesn’t seem like that,” you defended, which only caused Holly to roll her eyes.

“Hate to be the one to break this to you, but Eddie Munson is exactly that type of guy.”

The cherry on top of this godforsaken mess was your Nana who somehow caught wind of your salacious activities with the Corroded Coffin frontman. She confronted you at her charity luncheon of all places and was actually the main reason you had called him with such a delay, meaning she was also partially to blame for how things turned out in the end.

“You’re not to go anywhere near that boy again,” it almost sounded like a threat. “He’s no good for you or your image. Can you imagine the news? America’s sweetheart canoodling with a devil worshipper. You would be ruined.”

“He’s not a devil worshipper—”

“I don’t want to hear you defending him,” your Nana interjected and looked around, probably to make sure no one was listening in on the conversation. “Honey, I’m just trying to protect you. You’re still a little young to understand just how long our mistakes can follow us around for.”

“Right,” you scoffed, “But I guess you have experience in this area.” And with that you walked away. She didn’t follow.

A few days later, after your brief conversation with Eddie, you showed up at her apartment with tears in your eyes, repeating how she was right — not necessarily the devil worship stuff, just the “not being good for you” piece.

Mid-September 1992, Eddie was supposed to be in New York with his band to perform on Saturday Night Live. He told you that in between trailing kisses down your jawline: “Just in case it’s hard for us to find time to see together,” where his exact words, “This one is a guarantee.”.

You half-debated going to the after party. It wouldn’t be hard to get your name on the guest list, just one simple call from your management team. You even knew what you could wear. Chanel had sent you this gorgeous little black blazer-dress from their Fall 1991 collection, gold buttons at the front creating a v-neck that perfectly accentuated your chest. It was tame enough to keep in style with your image, but bold enough to hail the attention of the Corroded Coffin frontman.

As you stared at the dress however, you knew going would be a mistake. He’d likely view it as an act of despair and the last thing you wanted to do is give him any more power in this situation. So you opted to watch the show from the comfort of your own sofa. Your younger sister Valentine, named after the most romantic day of the year (according to your parents), Val for short, came over to watch with you.

Turns out Val is a big Corroded Coffin fan. Luckily, she remains blissfully unaware of what had gone down between you and the lead singer of her favourite band.

Val ended up being the person who pushed you to do the feature on Corroded Coffin’s upcoming single. She is the person who actually got you to listen to the demo in the first place.

The opportunity first presented itself around January of 1993. After weeks of trying to forget about Eddie Munson, and the way his touch made you feel, your team flushed all that hard work down the toilet in one short meeting. They presented an idea you really wanted no part of — a quick feature that was gonna cost nothing, but make you (and them) five times as much, if not more.

Your initial reaction was a plain and simple no. You had brushed it off as their music not being within your wheelhouse and for a second, they agreed. Only Val had come to the meeting with you. She was only supposed to be a silent observer and take notes for her Business Management module. Of course, she didn’t listen.

“Oh my god! Your voice blended with Eddie Munson’s would make for an automatic hit,” she exclaimed and you swore then you were going to kill her. 

“Their sound is just not my thing,” you explained calmly.

“At least listen to the demo before you make any final decisions,” Val reasoned, earning herself nods and yeses from your management team.

Losing the battle, you made your way to the nearest empty recording room with the CD in hand. Knowing this was already hard enough, you asked to go alone. Val was the only one to put up any sort of fight, but older sister rules and she quickly changed her tune.

When the first few notes began to play through the speakers, you felt gratified because the song was totally opposite of what your fanbase enjoyed — just like you rationalised. However, then the melody slowed down. The heavy guitar from the intro was instead replaced by a more acoustic sound, and the loud drums, reduced to a simple beat. They were a mere decoration to the main event. Eddie and his hypnotic vocals.

“Honestly, you got me fallin’ to my knees It’s like ecstasy, this feelin’ inside of me Let’s call it honesty

You’re a devil in disguise No, that’s what I want you to be ‘Cause in reality, hon’, you’re a hypnotic dream An angel for sure To a non-believer like me Oh honesty, what have you done to me, honestly”

You’re not sure at which point of listening to the demo you started to cry, but you did. The tears are slow, trailing down your cheeks as you clutch the empty CD case tight to your chest.

Was it egotistical to think he’d written this song about you? Most definitely. Yet the sheer emotion in Eddie’s voice, not to even mention the lyrics themselves, made it quite hard to say otherwise.

“Why do they want me?” You asked once you had returned to the room, after listening to the demo three times in a row and taking an additional ten minutes to compose yourself. “They can have any female singer on this, why me?”

“The request came from someone above the band.”

It wasn’t the answer you had secretly hoped for, but you agreed to do the feature nonetheless. There was no denying, the track had huge hit potential, especially as a duet. And Val was right, your vocals mixed with Eddie’s were going to make history. Your reasons for saying yes, however, were a little different. You really just needed to be a hundred percent sure Eddie wrote this song about you.

March 1993 and the day you’d been stressing about since you agreed to do the song had finally arrived.

You had put on the most comfortable yet sexy outfit you could find and done your makeup differently to what Eddie would have seen you in. sprayed on some rose-scented perfume and plastered on a big smile, the fakest sincere shit you had become quite the expert at over the years — your trademark.

The band's manager, Marianne, greeted you on arrival. Holly and your bodyguard, Hank, had come with you to the recording session. You asked Holly to be there as emotional support and Hank was there just to get his paycheck. Either way, you were quite glad not to be facing this alone.

Everything’s fine, you told yourself as you followed Marianne across the building and to a studio where the producer and a handful of sound technicians were waiting for you. Finn, Jane, Kit, and Gavin — in no particular order of importance, their own words. Happy to be working with you, can’t wait to make some magic, big fans of your work, etc. You just smiled. Then Marianne opened the door to the room behind the sound-proof glass and a shiver ran down your spine once you walked through.

Although you did your best to not look his way, Eddie’s presence was instantly known to your senses. As though no one else was ever here, all you could feel was his eyes on you and it caused your heart to rattle inside your ribcage. The sheer fact of being in the same room as him again, after all this time apart, was infuriating yet exciting at the same time. You wondered what he was thinking, was he happy to see you? Surprised? Annoyed?

Holly was on your heels, saying her charming hello’s to everyone you had just introduced yourself to. She actually met Jeff at Eddie’s party so the two of them hugged like old pals and within a split-second, they were off to the side, catching up. You lost your protector quite possibly at the worst time.

“And our frontman, Eddie Munson.” Marianne introduced, one hand hovering over your back while the other extended in the direction of the curly-haired man,

You focused your attention on her arm, refusing to look up and meet Eddie’s chocolate gaze. From the corner of your eyes, you could see as he wiped his palms on the pleather of his pants and held out his right hand in your direction. You glanced at it briefly, the smile on your face faltering.

Suddenly, he was right there. Right at your fingertips. Just take his hand, you thought to yourself, it’s not that big a deal, just take his hand and look at him.

“We’ve met before,” you said with little to no emotion, and without meeting his gaze, then quickly turned to Marianne. “Should we just get started? I listened to the song, I have no notes, otherwise I wouldn’t be here.”

Marianne seemed to be taken aback by your abrupt change in attitude. She glanced at Eddie then back at you. “Uhm, yeah, sure. Of course. Right this way.”

The two of you silently left Eddie’s side, though you continued to feel his eyes burning into your frame. This whole situation was honestly nauseating. Not only were you forced to face the memories of this one magical night you shared with the famous rockstar, you were also about to sing a duet together, a song he most likely wrote about said night. All while pretending you don’t care about him or the night in question.

Marianne propped you in front of a microphone and handed you a set of headphones and shortly after the band had taken their places. You glanced across the room at Holly who gave you an encouraging thumbs up before hurrying out to re-join Finn, Jane, Kit, Gavin, and your bodyguard, Hank.

Your heart was hammering inside your chest. This was so beyond fucked, you almost wished it wasn’t too late to back out. The only thing making this just a little bit worth it was Eddie’s clear discomfort. He was the last to take his place at the microphone placed only a feet away from yours, his movements reluctant. You still refused to look at him, focusing instead on the carpet between your feet, hands now on your hips.

“You know what I’m gonna say,” Marianne’s voice echoed through the room, “The day I don’t say it though is gonna be the day we make a shit piece of art so, here goes, good luck and have fun.”

An unsettling silence filled the air as soon as she closed the door behind her. 

You weren’t sure how their band sessions really went, who took the lead and who followed. You hoped someone would speak so you wouldn’t be the first, but no one did. Eddie’s eyes were burning into the side of your head. At this point you were starting to think the universe was playing some sick joke on you. So you glanced upwards, first behind the glass to where you located Holly who gave you another thumbs up, and then you tilted your head in the direction of the man next to you.

You exhaled softly and leaned in closer to the microphone before saying, “Honesty, take one.”

-

Eddie had thought about you every single day since that fateful night in August. The memory of you, your smile, the colour of your eyes, how you felt to the touch, the pretty sounds you made just for him, it had occupied his mind permanently. And he tried to get over you, really, but nothing seemed to do the trick. Not the drinking, not the weed, not losing himself in music, not even hooking up with strangers after the bands’ shows.

He was a goner, yet too fucking stubborn to call or try contact you in any way.

But now here you are, a mere arms-length away, and you’re singing the song he wrote about you, harmonising with little to no effort as you stare right into his big eyes. Eddie is staring back at you, holding your gaze ‘cause he’s afraid if he’d look away, you’d never look at him again. He wants to know what you’re thinking. He’s trying to decipher the angry sadness behind your eyes. Not like he deserves anything from you, but he wants to know how you’ve been. Most importantly, he wants to know if you even like the song?

“Okay,” Marianne pops her head in as the track ends, “Let’s break for lunch.”

Everyone starts to gather whatever they might need for the next hour — bag, bottled water, smokes — before following Marianne out of the recording studio. You’re still staring at Eddie and he’s thinking now’s his chance to talk to you. However, just as he’s about to open his mouth to start perhaps the most awkward conversation, you drop his gaze and hurry out the door.

“Shit,” the curly-haired rockstar curses under his breath then proceeds to follow you down the long hallway until you disappear into the ladies toilets. “Shit,” Eddie swears again as the door closes in front of his face. He runs a hand through his locks, debating whether he should continue his chase, though, eventually, he decides going inside would be a total breach of privacy. Instead, he leans across from the entrance, lights a cigarette, and waits. You’re bound to return at some point and when you do, he’s going to be here and you would have to talk to him.

Thankfully, he doesn’t have to wait long.

The door opens slowly and you emerge, wiping your hands on your denim skirt. Attention solely on fixing your outfit, it takes you a second to realise Eddie’s there ‘cause honestly you didn’t even know he followed you. As you take a step forward and his worn-out converse sneakers come into view, you swallow.

Closing your eyes momentarily, a desperate attempt at some kind of composure in this situation. Ultimately, there’s no use in continuing this childish game of cat and mouse so you gaze upon him.

“Hi Eddie,” you say with all the confidence you can muster.

He exhales a puff of smoke, then replies, “Hey, sweetheart.”

Your heart aches at the moniker and you can’t help but wonder if it’s a nickname solely reserved for you, or if he goes around calling everybody he sleeps with. After all, with the way things turned out to be, you were simply a number on his undoubtedly long list of conquests. You weren’t special.

“It’s nice to see you,” Eddie admits, though his words only twist the imaginary dagger he had jabbed into your heart. “You look… great.”

This makes you roll your eyes. Truthfully, you didn’t have high expectations for your first conversation with the Corroded Coffin frontman, but there was something about him casually flirting as if nothing had happened, that made your blood boil.

“Fuck you, Eddie.”

He’s taken aback by your words and the harshness behind them. Obviously he messed up, treated you with an indifference no one deserves to experience, especially someone with a heart as pure as yours. To hear you say that though, mixed with the pure agony behind your eyes, it makes him feel sick.

About to walk away, you turn on your heel. Eddie puts out the half-finished cigarette against the wall, letting the bud drop to the floor, and reaches out to grab your arm. Surprisingly, you don’t flinch at his touch, not at first anyway, which gives him enough time to step in front of you and lift his hands to cup your cheeks.

“Sweetheart…” Eddie begins in a whisper, thumbs caressing along your cheekbones. Your skin is softer than he remembers and it only makes his heart ache more, mournful for the time lost.

“Let me go,” you plead quietly and shake your head, fingers attaching themselves to his wrists, digging at the dips in his knuckles and the valleys of space where his hold met yours, in an attempt to separate the two of you.

Eddie doesn’t budge. He’s stood firm as you claw at him, trying to break free from his grasp. If anything, he inclines closer and in the space of a single heartbeat, you can feel his hot breath as he dips his head to your level, forcing you to meet his gaze. There’s a sense of despair behind his brown eyes and you almost stop fighting.

Almost.

“I’m sorry, sweetheart. Okay? Is that what you wanna hear?”

His words, although an apology, didn’t sound like one. To you, it seemed like Eddie wasn’t actually sorry for his actions, he just hated the fact that you were giving him the cold shoulder. He wanted to be in your good graces not ‘cause your night meant something to him, but because he had a bruised ego. A cruel joke really. 

So you clear your throat and call on the only person guaranteed to get you away from his situation.

“Hank,” there’s very little power behind your voice and Eddie furrows his brows a little confused at first, but then you move your head to the best of your current ability past Eddie’s shoulder and say his name louder, “Hank!”

“Please—”

“Hank!”

Eddie drops his hold on you then and runs a hand down his face as you take a single step forward, arm brushing against his a little too steadily to be called an accident. Seconds pass and neither of you moves, each staring in a separate direction while your bodies continue to press together. Eddie extends his fingers. You feel the metal of his rings and the air hitches in your throat.

How come one second you cannot wait to get away from him and the next you’re aching for his touch? One second you’re pushing him away and the next your fingers are intertwining themselves with his. It was fucking messed up, hating him yet caring for him at the same time, and you didn’t want to feel this way anymore.

When your army-veteran bodyguard appears at the end of the hall, you snatch your hand away from Eddie’s grasp and plaster a fake smile on your face.

“Everything okay, miss?” Hank asks, glancing between the two of you.

“Can you call the car? I’m not feeling well.”

He nods. “Right away.” Then disappears just as fast as he rushed to your aid. 

You’re once again left alone with Eddie. Only this time, the Corroded Coffin frontman makes no attempt to reach out for you. Instead, he slides his hands in the pocket of his jacket and tilts his head in your direction. You can see him from the corner of your eyes and it takes all the strength you have to not look his way.

“I am sorry,” he says in a defeated tone, “Whether you choose to believe me or not.”

With that, he walks away.

-

The world hadn’t stopped spinning since your earlier interaction with the Corroded Coffin frontman.

You felt sick while recounting the moment on loop. The sad look in his eyes, the defeated sound of his voice. His body language was screaming I wanna be closer to you, unfortunately, you couldn’t figure out if he was being sincere, if this whole situation really weighed on him as deeply as it did you.

Holly had berated you for even indulging in a conversation with him, to which you huffed and puffed ‘cause she’s the one who left you alone in the first place for “not-a-date” lunch with Jeff.

“Hope you at least got some,” you tease, rummaging through your half-unpacked suitcase for the box of smokes you carefully hid in there, for emergency situations only.

Holly laughs from her spot on the sofa. You can’t see her face, but you can tell she’s smiling. “Shut the fuck up,” she deflects with a giggle, “We went for some friendly burgers. I wasn’t looking for anything else.”

“Was Jeff?” You quip, placing a cigarette between your lips and reaching for the ashtray. You carry the item towards one of the hotel windows before lighting the tip, slowly inhaling.

“You’re unbearable, you know that?” Holly jests, shifting in her spot to look at you. “Just ‘cause you’re sexually frustrated.”

You smirk, exhaling some smoke. “What gave you that idea?”

Holly raises a brow, an amused look spread across her face, and points to the cigarette you’re holding onto. Before she can make her point of you only smoking when you’re stressed or craving some action — and in this instance, it’s clearly both — there’s a knock on the door. The two of you glance in its direction then back at each other.

“Where you expecting—”

“No,” you answer before Holly can finish her question, “You?”

She shakes her head in response. There’s another knock, louder this time. You quickly put the cigarette out and waved the curtain around, your best attempt to somewhat ventilate just in case this was a surprise visit from your Nana who, despite being a heavy smoker herself, would kill you for indulging in the cancer sticks.

While you spray some perfume on, Holly walks towards the door. She shoots you one last glance, making sure you were presentable for whoever was on the other side of that door, then opens to reveal someone you both were least expecting.

Eddie fucking Munson.

“Oh,” he breathes, brows up, “I didn’t think—”

“What are you doing here, Munson?” Holly interrupts, holding onto the door so he knew he wasn’t welcome inside.

“Shit, if you just let me finish.” Eddie grumbles back. “I didn’t think anyone else would be here. I came to see her.” He looks at you then and your heart twists the second your eyes meet his.

Holly tilts her head in your direction and a sigh escapes her lips. There’s a reason she’s your closest friend. She can read you like a book and the expression on your face right now, gaze not leaving Eddie’s even for a second, is telling her to let the rockstar in — whether she agrees with that or not. 

So she drops her arm and pushes the door wider before stepping to the side. Eddie looks at her then back at you. He walks inside, not wanting to waste this opportunity since he didn’t know how long it would last, as Holly approaches you. The girl places her hands on your cheeks, forcing you to focus on her just for a moment.

“If you need me, I’m right next door, ‘kay?” Holly whispers and you nod. “Shout, scream, do whatever. I’ll come runnin’. I’m here for you, this time.”

“Thanks, honey.”

“Always,” Holly affirms then lets go of you. She straightens her top before turning around and walking back to where Eddie stood with his hands in his pockets. She sizes up the curly-haired man, but doesn’t say anything. Instead, she shuts the door with a timid bang.

Silence settles in the air. Once again, it’s just you and Eddie staring at one another with immense longing yet sadness. Only, unlike earlier today, you don’t want to run away.

There are approximately three pieces of furniture between the two of you and the longer he continues to look at you with his doe-eyes, you’re calculating how exactly to manoeuvre around them to hug him, putting an end to this entire charade.

Something is still holding you back, however.

“What are you doing here, Eddie?”

He swallows and proceeds to hesitantly walk towards you, past the sofas you were debating jumping over mere seconds ago. He stops about an arms-length away, careful not to totally invade your personal space in fear of you pulling away again. Instead, he leans against the back of one of the couches and tilts his head to the side.

“What do you think of my song?”

You furrow your brows. “What?”

“Do you like it?” Eddie asks, but doesn’t give you enough time to answer, “I’m thinking you do since you agreed to be on it, but then again maybe you don’t and your reason for doing the feature is to mess with my fucking head.” His fingers are at his temple, pointing to emphasise his words.

There’s an ache in your chest. “You really think that low of me?”

Eddie’s face falls at the deflated tone of your voice and he’s cursing himself for hurting your feelings again. He didn’t mean to. Word vomit, is how his uncle Wayne described it back when Eddie was still living in Hawkins, it’s as though Eddie’s mouth and brain didn’t connect.

He sighs, running a hand through his locks. “I gotta get something off my chest, just in case you kick me out and we never get a chance another to talk alone,” he says then takes in a deep breath, “You probably don’t wanna hear this, and you probably won’t even believe me, but I genuinely cannot stop thinking about you.”

Your face softens at his confession, though you remain in place, arms crossed.

Eddie continues. “And I’ve never experienced that with anyone. I certainly didn’t expect to feel these things for you, especially after spending only one night together. Which is why I acted like a dick when you called. I was hurt that you hadn’t reached out sooner considering how near perfect that night was.”

A timid smile circles your features. Briefly, you’re cursing yourself for giving in to his charm so easily. Very briefly.

“Mr. Rock ‘n’ Roll isn’t used to having someone else’s life take priority over his, huh?”

That’s when Eddie laughs, and the second the melodic chuckle falls from his lips, you drop your arms and take a step towards him. Your fingers reach for his instinctively and he takes your hand gladly, giving it a gentle squeeze.

“Totally not, no.” He admits. “But I am willing to change.”

“Hmm,” you hum, lifting your other hand to brush a loose strand of his brown locks away from his face. “Hope you’re a man of your word ‘cause I’m booked and busy. Can’t have you throw a fit every time I don’t call you.”

The smile on Eddie’s face widens. His right arm makes its way around your waist and he pulls you in, effectively closing the gap between you. His gaze drops to your lips, if only for a split second as he licks his own, then meets your eyes once again.

“I wanna do this right,” he mutters, his grip on you tightening. “I don’t want us to just jump the gun again and leave things lost in translation, so before we do anything else, I’d like to take you on a date, sweetheart.”

Your heart skips a beat ‘cause who knew Eddie Munson was such a damn romantic — definitely not you.

“And where would we go on this date?” You muse, “Since we can’t really blend in with a crowd.”

Eddie purses his lips together, pondering your question. He lets go of you and places his hands on his hips as he walks around the room. You’re following him with your gaze, the smile ever-present. Then his eyes twinkle. 

“Well, how about right here, baby? We can order some room service and watch MTV in bed.” The rockstar announces, pointing to the California King and wiggling his brows.

So that’s exactly what the two of you do. 

With a tray of overpriced hotel food between you and the current top tracks blasting through the television speakers, the evening was perhaps the most normal you both have felt in a really long time. Eddie, of course, gave his opinion on every song that played in the countdown while stuffing his face with french fries. Most were unsurprising, like Whitney Houston’s I WIll Always Love You, well Dolly Parton’s is miles better in his humble opinion, or Bon Jovi’s Bed of Roses, the guitar makes the song. Then came number three on the list.

You visibly grimace while moving the now empty tray to the floor beside the bed and Eddie chuckles lightly.

“Not a fan of your own music?” 

Shaking your head, you sit back although closer to him since there was no longer anything between you. “Just not my best song, is all.”

Eddie nods, resting his hand on your thigh and turns his attention back to the TV. Suddenly, you’re feeling nervous. For one, he’s touching you, thumb gently rubbing circles into your bare flesh. Then there was the music video which, as you glanced at him from the corner of your eye, Eddie seemed to be totally hypnotised by.

And full transparency, he was. How could he not be? It was a one-shot type video of you singing while walking down the street as it poured rain. The outfit you had on was sticking to your skin as a result, hair wet and makeup smudged. Raw, is the first word that came to Eddie’s mind. Not to mention completely different from your usual vibe.

“You gotta give yourself more credit, sweetheart.” Eddie says after a minute and tilts his head to look at you. “Personally, I like this a lot more than your other shit.”

You meet his gaze. “You don’t think it’s too… desperate? Like yeah, the song is making rounds and charting in all sorts of places, but it’s so—”

“It’s about me, isn’t it?” He interrupts, scanning your eyes for the answer he already knows.

“Yeah…” You exhale. “Like I said, desperate.”

He squeezes your thigh before effortlessly throwing your legs across his lap and pulling you in even closer. One hand remains in your lap while the other makes way around your lower back, settling on the curve of your ass — all without breaking eye contact.

“There’s nothing desperate about you, sweetheart.” He mutters, face now inches away from yours. “I wrote a song too, remember? One we’re actually performing together, which is arguably way worse.”

That makes you chuckle lightheartedly as Eddie continues, “Plus, you look fucking hot in that music video. Anybody that says differently is stupid and/or blind. If anything, I’m glad I inspired all that.” His voice fizzles into something darker for the end of that sentence while his eyes snap to your mouth.

You can feel him under your legs as he presses his forehead to yours, all of him. It doesn’t help that he’s so pretty from this angle. The curve of his jawline. The dips in his cheeks. His doe-eyes focused solely on yours, dimming by the second with longing. And just like that, almost as if no time had passed, you’re back where you both started. Hearts beating in tandem. Eagerly waiting with anticipation for the other to make the first move.

“I really wanna do this right, baby.” He repeats his earlier statement, but the way he brushes his thumb across your bottom lip, dragging it down till it bounces back gently in place, betrays his words.

“We don’t have to do anything right now.” And although you mean it, you hope he doesn’t give up too easily.

Eddie exhales. Eyes closing momentarily. He’s fighting every urge ‘cause he doesn’t want to fuck this up again. For once in his life, he wants to see where things can go. But the feeling of your skin, the smell of your perfume, and the memory of you moaning his name so sweetly, well it’s got his heart racing and his dick harder. 

The hand on your thigh tightening in grip, causing you to whimper delicately. And that’s when he loses the internal battle.

“Fuck it.”

He wastes no more time, slamming his lips to yours in an eager sloppy kiss. You immediately kiss him back, hands settling on his neck, nails digging into the sensitive skin. He’s groaning against your mouth at the contact, pushing into you further so that you can feel his cock twitch against your leg. And you’re convinced that if you were standing, it would make your knees buckle.

Heads rotating side to side, nose grazing against one another with each wet kiss, Eddie adjusts your positions so that you were now fully resting on your back as he lingered over you. One of his hands was now on your waist, holding you firmly in place as he starts to grind his hips into yours.

“Eddie…” You moan against his puffy lips.

“I’m gonna make you feel so good, pretty girl.” Eddie affirms quietly, trailing hot kisses from the dip of your lips down your jaw. And he desperately wants to stay true to his word so before you get a chance to react, he’s removing your underwear then slides down until his head is between your thighs.

You let out a tender giggle as his facial hair grazes against your skin. Eddie shushes you and after adjusting your skirt for easier access, he begins to place kisses along your inner thigh, drawing closer and closer to his desired destination. Aching for his touch, you tangle your fingers in his hair and tug at his curls. He smirks against your flesh and proceeds to spread your lips with his fingertips, revealing how wet you truly are, then blows several cool breaths over your hot clit. 

He proceeds to gently slide his tongue up and down your pussy, so slowly, you feel every moment of pleasure. Then he flicks his tongue over your clit, sucking and licking the sensitive area until you’re a panting mess. And when you moan his name, Eddie works a little faster. Then continues to increase his speed as his tongue darts in and out of your dripping cunt. 

Just when you think you’re on cloud nine, he forces two fingers into you, his lips focusing on your clit. They arch up to reach that sweet spot he didn’t have a hard time finding the last time and you clasp your hand across your mouth, muffling a scream. He’s relentless in his movements and you find yourself grinding into his face, meeting the pace he’s set with overwhelming frenzy. 

Faster and faster, his tongue licks up and down, spreading your pussy lips further as his fingers dig deep within your cunt, sending you over the edge with every thrust. Your legs start to shake and thighs clasp hard against his head, trapping him in place, while he continues to sucking till you go limp. 

It takes you a moment to recover and Eddie’s feeling mighty proud as he places a tender kiss to your cheekbone before moving to your mouth. You can taste yourself on his lips and it’s enough to drive you crazy all over again.

But Eddie’s got other plans. He’s decided this night is all about you, so despite the desperate hard-on currently concealed by his trousers, he cleans you up before asking where you keep your pyjamas. Your heart soars as he helps you get changed and eventually settled under the covers. 

“Stay with me.” It’s a request he’s happy to oblige. Throwing off his t-shirt and jeans, he joins you in bed briskly. The two of you fall asleep shortly after that, MTV still playing in the background. As first dates go, this one was pretty perfect and you were starting to feel like everything with Eddie was going to be this way. 

Unfortunately, the serene moment was short lived, which, in hindsight, you should’ve known people of yours and Eddie’s stature weren’t privy to normality. 

The following morning, you were both abruptly woken up by a frantic Holly. She doesn’t say anything about Eddie being in your bed, for which you’re grateful, just chucks a newspaper into your lap while you wipe the sleep from your eyes.

Slowly, you sit up then reach for the paper. Glancing between your friend and the guy in your bed, you unfold it. Eddie rests his chin on your shoulder and you both focus on the front page.

“Shit,” he expresses exactly how you’re feeling at that moment ‘cause gracing the front page, with a rather raunchy headline, is a photo, taken yesterday, of the Corroded Coffin frontman towering over you, his hands cupping your face.

[jinx-s-things]

She loves you Pt.2

Warnings: violence, Blood, manipulation, gaslighting

This was loosely based on misery, pt.1 is here

You looked at her in total disbelief, so many emotions and thoughts ran through your head. “W-why?” You stuttered, you could hear Amber chuckling silently. It made your stomach drop she leans in to caresses your face, Her hands felt as cold as ice.

You completely froze not knowing what to do. She was looking straight at you not once blinking, you were looking around the cold and colourless room. You look back “Tell me why I’m here now!” Amber sighed, “I brought you here because I need you, The first time I ever met you I knew that you were mine. So I had this plan where I hid that letter in your bag and it worked” she laughs moving away from you.

“You’re Fucking insane! I thought we were friends… oh my god this is so fucked up.”

All you could do was cry, you hoped it was all just a nightmare and you would wake up soon. Amber could never do this she was your best friend since like forever.

“How long have you have you had this plan?” You ask. She walks back over to you holding something behind her back.

“About a few months ago, I have followed you home everyday and you never even noticed” she smiled. You got a chill down your spine.

_

It’s been a few weeks and you’re still locked in this room But after a while Amber started letting you leave the room. You haven’t any alone time to think about what’s happened, Amber’s been with you constantly even as far as to sleep in the same room. She keeps you on high alert you never know what mood she’s going to be in.

Some days she praises you with compliments and gifts like she’s trying to win you over but then the next full of rage calling you all the names.

It’s been awhile since you thought of days and the time. Heck it could even be a different year by now. Just lying on the bed looking at the ceiling u hear a crash, you got scared it’s one of Ambers rage days. As Amber burst through the door “this is taking too long” just as she’s saying that you notice a hammer in her hand. You try to move but stumbled, The next minute you feel the worst pain in your arm then the next arm, you hear a crack. The pain is so bad, you pass out.

Not sure how long you’ve been out for when you woke, you were hazy and then it all came flooding back including the pain. Focusing your eyes you force yourself to look down, what a mess. You see both arms plaster cast in slings, on one you notice there’s something carved. You try to focus but your still a bit woozy, you see a heart has Been carved in with a message next to it you move your head slightly to see it said ‘love you always Amber xxx.’

“Ah you’re awake finally” Amber burst through the door with some pain medication. You’re a bit weary but you’re so desperate for pain relief. She gives you the pain meds.

“Why the hell did you do that!” You scream,

Amber chuckles and calmly leans in. “I did it for us baby” you couldn’t help but get lost in her deep brown eyes.I have a surprise for you. She presented you with a heart shaped velvet box, She slowly opens it to reveal a beautiful necklace with half of a human looking heart pendant. You notice Amber is wearing the other half

“Look they have our blood inside them, now a piece of me will always be with you.”

It’s been 4 weeks of Amber doing everything for you as your arms regain their strength. As the weeks go on you start to feel a deep devotion. Amber has been planning this thing you don’t know anything about but she said she’ll tell you when she’s finished. You were quite nervous for what she could she be planning still you trust Amber.

As you were stretching your arms, Amber came in looking excited. “It’s nearly time, your arms are getting strong.”

“Please give me a clue” you say

“Stop asking I’ll tell you when I finish the masks” masks? You say to yourself. You feel your eyes begin to droop and slowly fall asleep.

When you awake Amber’s in the room with almost giddy with excitement. “I finally worked out my plan” she announced you were a bit disoriented but you were eager to know what the plan was. “I’ll get you some breakfast first” Amber walks out the room but she came within minutes. She let you enjoy your breakfast. Then she began to explain, once she was done you stared in shock. She handed you the mask, slowly you took it and looked back up at her.

“You in?” She said then smirked you thought for a moment and replied. “Yes”

[gothamite-rambler]

Bruce meeting his son Damian pt. 2

Context: After Bruce Wayne has regained his bearings and been dragged to a lounge room at Ra's castle and has been retold that he has a son with Talia, Jason knew and now his in-law is Ra's Al Ghul. (links to the first two parts below).

Bruce, still in his bat suit, rested on the ground in Talia's study trying to remain his usual calm and composed self, but can only repeat a mantra.

Talia: Bruce, my former love, are you feeling better?

Bruce (monotone and stunned): I have a child with Talia. I have a child with Talia. I have a... child with Talia. I have a child with Talia. I have a child with Talia...

Talia: You are being such a drama king, can you not be happy that that our night of passion produced a child.

Bruce (whimpering): Oh God I'm linked to you through a child!

Bruce buried his face on the floor groaning loudly.

Talia (angry): My father was right, you would hate Damian! If you're going to be like this then you won't be around him!

Bruce (clarifying): I do not hate Damian. I hate you. There's a difference. And you are not depriving me of any further time with him!

Talia shook with rage, but chose to not stab him, taking a long sip from her tea to calm herself.

Bruce: I didn't even get the name of Thomas Jr.! Although Damian isn't a bad name. This is not what I needed though, I can't believe I'm a father again.

Talia: Bruce, while I don't care much for your Robins, you raised three kids already! For Ra's sake, you adopted Dick when he was 8!

Bruce: I wasn't secretly his biological father, unaware he existed because the petty mother and her psychotic father refused to inform me of that!

Talia (honest): Well when you word it like that it makes us look bad.

Bruce (calm, but enraged): Talia, how old is Damian again?

Talia (deadpan): He turned eight a few months ago.

Bruce (panicked): That's what I'm FUCKING saying! I missed another birthday, he's been around- Oh my God it just dawned on me he's been around Ra's Al Ghul. Ra is that precious boy's grandfather. Oh… no.

Talia smiled hearing Bruce call their son precious.

Talia: You're stressed and shocked about having a child that I neglected to tell you about, for your own safety as well, but we can co-parent him since you know about him now.

Bruce (V.O.): That's not the point, he is my son you loony tune!

Bruce (outloud): Thank you so much for giving me that option eight years later. I'm not upset I have a son, that's... fine. You are correct about the fact I've raised three kids, working on things with Jason, but yes I'm not new to parenting. I’m having a lot of racing thoughts because the woman I thought I cut off ties with is now linked to me through said innocent child. Oh and the fact you kept him secret for eight years!

Talia (missing the point): Our relationship wasn't that bad. You have to admit we had good times together.

Bruce sat up, bringing his knee to his head and thinking about the good times... Those bad times entered the narrative quickly.

Talia: Bruce, it was for the best I never informed you of Damian’s existence earlier, father would’ve killed you.

Bruce: You refused to tell ME I had a son, because your father who bathes in the pit when he has a cold might’ve killed me? That’s what you’re trying to tell me… you’re telling me that as if I can’t fight for myself!

Talia (hesitantly): I made… what I assumed was the smartest decision.

Bruce: Yeah Kim thought the same thing with J.D. on Scrubs, at least he found out before the baby was born.

Talia: Okay I did not watch much of that crap show, but don’t compare me to that woman, I’m ten times better than her! Plus our night of passion was far different from what they did.

Bruce: No, it was a one night stand. A fun one, I won’t deny that, but one I had planned to be a ONE NIGHT STAND! I'm supposed to be smart, why did I buy those condoms, why did I put one in my wallet?

Talia: You are pissing me off to no end, but slip-ups like this can happen to the best of us. Neither of us expected a condom with the word 'condom' misspelled on it would break so easily.

Bruce: I can't ignore the fact you had him around that man. You let him talk to Damian, be around Damian, probably teach him how to kill. I am burying so much rage at the moment, but it's a thin thread, Talia. It's a thin thread!

Talia rolled her eyes while drinking from her tea cup.

Talia: I'll have you know, my childhood was only filled with normal discipline, he stabbed me in my ankle three times and then stopped. Mostly because I expected those sneak attacks.

Bruce: Talia, I swear to Christ if he has done that to Damian I will murder him three times.

Talia: No... not that I'm aware of.

Talia took another long sip from her cup while glancing away from Bruce.

Bruce (despondent): I've been deprived of that cute boy's eight years of growing up. He could have had a semi-normal childhood. I saw you with the baby too, but I thought nobody would be STUPID enough to have a kid with you. I'm the stupid one.

Talia (smirking): You think he's cute?

Bruce whimpered to signify he meant yes.

Talia: Our DNA worked together well.

Talia giggled, but Bruce wasn't in the mood.

Bruce: You're as delusional as I remember.

Talia: Bruce, get up, sit next to me. Have some tea.

Bruce stood up and sat a good distance from Talia. He removed his cowl and sighed accepting he had a son with Talia, but his worry for his child's safety remained.

Bruce: I'm glad I'm not shooting blanks, the issue is- I mean no offense... kind of do- I did not want a child with you after I realized I can't be with someone like you. You and I have clashing ideals and now we have a child. I have to co-parent with a woman who harassed a Kohl's worker to the point the woman got institutionalized ... and that's the tame shit! What am I going to tell Damian about your entire history?

Talia: Okay first of all, that worker was racist, she had it coming and second, I've made decisions you do not agree with, some that I don't look back on fondly, but for most of Damian's childhood I raised him with the love I barely got from my father. I'm doubting the decision to raise him as an assassin.

Bruce: I can make the final decision there, he's not becoming one.

Talia (chuckling dryly): Guess we'll have to compromise with what Damian wants. To be honest, Bruce I'm not that mad with your overall reaction, but I'm glad the issue isn't our son. Because whether you want to be with me or not, I want you to be a part of his life. Eight years later, yes, but I've known you for a long time and I see now you'll be a great father to him.

Bruce (rubbing his forehead): Freaking reassuring after I missed so much of his life... He's leaving today with me and will never return here again. Yeah, yeah that's a good first step as his father.

Talia: Okay, let's test the co-parenting here. How about you take him to Gotham and spend a few weeks with him so that way he can get to know you more. You're rich, not as much as us, but hopefully he'll be used to your lifestyle.

Bruce (serious): You said that as if he's visiting for vacation and then returning to this kingdom of evilness. He's not returning here! Ever!

Talia: Oh come on, I'm raising him incredibly well.

Bruce: Around Ra's Al Ghul?

Talia: Y- Yes. On his birthday we have him fight assassins and punishments aren't that bad, but last birthday he didn't have to do that I was generous.

Bruce (seething): You had him fight assassins?! What punishments- You got me fucked me, Talia! You got me fucked up! You have me talking like I'm from lower Jersey! I get you find me silly for wearing an awesome batsuit to save the city, but let me make this clear: He's living with me, I am taking... custody of him. I'm getting his stuff, he'll get on my jet and Gotham will be his permanent home! That is my son! Not just yours and damn sure not Ra's! I have a say in my son's life!

Talia (impressed): Okay, I like this energy. He'll want to return here for proper raising, I'm confident in that, but he can spend two or three months with you and then we'll humor him and see who he wants to stay with.

Bruce: Me. Me. He's living with me. I might have him visit- What am I saying?! You can visit him, I won't deprive YOU of being around him. Not Ra because if he hurts him any further, I will BEAT that man to an inch of his life and render him comatose!

Talia (pretending to be ignorant): Yeah, he'll stay for a let's say a year. I'm getting what you're putting down.

Bruce: You're seriously not! Talia look into my eyes, Damian WAYNE will be living with me from here on out. Got it?!

Talia stood up, placing her tea cup on the table.

Talia: Mm-hm, Mm-hm, Mm-hm, we'll see what Damian decides. Aren’t you happy I gave him your last name.

Bruce rubbed his forehead, trying not to cuss Talia out. She wasn't always the most stable person especially when it involved allegiance to her father, but he was resolute in his decision.

Damian would not set foot back in that castle for as long as Bruce lived. Although he accepted there was no point in arguing with Talia.

Talia (standing up): I'll go tell him to pack his things, you're going to have to talk to my father and I'm not sure if you remember this, you blacked out at a certain point, but Jason was fully aware I had the child, kept it secret for this long-term revenge, Damian has visited Gotham to be babysat by him, and he helped raise him for 8 years. He was actually the one who told me a few months ago it was time to let you see him so don't be too hard on the kid. Okay, whew got that off my chest. Damian, let's talk!

Talia scurried out of the room as Bruce stood there, shocked at this new information. He had blocked out that particular part, remembering it now made his face turn red with rage.

Bruce (whispering in rage): He had his reasons. He had his reasons. He had ... his reasons. He ...had his reasons. He had his... reasons. He had me send him that money for three years after I SAVED him and he sat on his information until a few months ago!

Bruce left the tea room in a huff.

Bruce: Jason, let's talk!

"You knew this entire time?"

Bruce find out about Damian

Jason knew the entire time

[cherrybomb107]

Okay, so, y’all already know I’m one of “those” Jinx stans(I don’t think she did anything truly monstrous and would defend her with my life). I feel this way for two main reasons: I see myself in her, and my personal biases kick in when it comes to my girl.

Now, I don’t consume fiction to make moralistic judgments of the characters; I’m here to have fun and be entertained. But, because stan culture has affected us all and made fandom discussions so personal and emotionally charged, I’ll bite. There are ppl in this fandom who won’t even call Silco a proper villain because of how nuanced he is. As if two things can’t be true; it is perfectly possible to be both nuanced AND a villain. Yet this same sympathy is not always expressed when talking about Jinx. Why is that?

Answer: misogyny and the demonizing of ppl with mental illness imo. Cause that’s the only plausible explanation I’m willing to accept why so many think of Jinx as a monster for killing cops, gang members, and asshole politicians, yet give all the grace in the world to Silco, who flooded the Lanes with Shimmer, had children working in his factories, was ready and willing to kill Powder before she hugged him, and waxed poetic about revolution when he never had any real plans of helping Zaun. He just wanted to be in charge. Like I said, I don’t consume fiction to make moralist judgments of the characters. But Silco’s actions are WAYYYY worse than Jinx’s, by a long shot.

And to my second point: my personal feelings. Disclaimer: ofc I don’t think killing ppl is right, nor am I an advocate for mindless slaughter. However, that is not what Jinx does. Her views on violence are incredibly warped due to the environment she grew up in. But even still, she NEVER harms innocent, non-combatants, much as some parts of this fandom likes to act like she does. I love the Firelights! I sympathize with their plight! But, they are literally a gang. And the ones that Ekko rolls with(Scar and the others) have inserted themselves into armed conflicts with Jinx before. They have been shown to be willing to use lethal force.

Silco is a drug kingpin. Jinx is his daughter. So no, I don’t think the daughter of a drug lord engaging in armed conflict with gang members makes her “monstrous”. It’s a street fight. Anything goes. If you pull up with bats and fists, and somebody else pull up guns ablazing, I do think that they’re responsible for escalating the conflict. I also think that in a street fight, you can’t pull up on someone and expect them to abide by the rules you set for yourself, yk? To continue this, as I said, the Firelights were willing to use lethal force. In episode six, when they interrupted Vi and Jinx’s reuinion, Scar knocked Vi out cold. He then raised his spear and was about to stab her in the back before Ekko stopped him. They then proceeded to kidnap Vi and Caitlyn. All of this because they followed Vi and THOUGHT that she was working for Silco! Is assaulting, almost killing, and kidnapping someone just because of your suspicions not “monstrous”? Or is it different because the Firelights are the “good guys”?

Now onto the Enforcers. Jinx sees the Enforcers as monsters who killed her parents right in front of her, and brutalized Zaunites all throughout her childhood. I know the show is fictional, but it touches on real life political themes. And our real life experiences inform how we consume fiction. I’m Black, female, queer, and from the US. The Enforcers are incredibly reminiscent of cops in my country. And if you know anything about the history of policing in this country, then you’d understand why I don’t give nary a fuck, nor a shit, nor a damn that Jinx kills Enforcers. Same sentiment applies to the Council. Fuck em🤷🏾‍♀️🤷🏾‍♀️🤷🏾‍♀️

Tldr: I don’t think killing someone is the worst thing you can do to them. It’s about who you kill and how you do it. Jinx quickly kills cops, gang members, and politicians. I never have, nor will I ever, consider her doing so “monstrous”

[prettyoatmeal]

Love to Hate Each Other (König x Fem!Reader)

Hello!! I promise I'm not dead!!! I've been super busy recently and had some writers block but I'm doing better now!! I'll be finally answering the requests I've had and upload some more from my drafts :)

CONTENT WARNING: Smut <333 Hate sex, unprotected sex, creampie, size difference, enemies to lovers, arguing, pettiness, sexual and non-sexual degrading (receiving and giving).

SUMMARY: You’d been a part of TF141 for a while now as their best sniper, however, it was recently stated that KorTac would team up with you lot for a mission. You’ve been training with him since and got that little bit of extra skill in your possession, you have the upper hand which drives König mad. You were put in charge of him as to test your leadership skills however it doesn't go as planned.

Word Count: 2926

Masterlist here!

***************

The fucking nerve of him. Would it kill him to show you just a little bit of respect? It had happened all too quickly. The way his voice boomed at you could've killed you in an instant. All you could do was think back to the argument.

...

"Can you stop shooting at me for fucking once, König?" You'd sneered at him after getting to the safe house. "I know I'm a better sniper than you but you don't need to be all petty 'bout it." "I'm sorry, maybe if you weren't snooping around and staying at your dedicated post like you were supposed to, I wouldn't have shot at you." He wanted to slam the door but knew better than to create another loud bang, "and you're not a 'better' anything than me, your ego is just too high."

"Oh, really? Then why did YOUR commander put you under my supervision for this mission, huh?"

Those words made let out him growl under his breath. He knew the truth, though he was too stubborn to admit. You had skill, but he just didn't and to give you that satisfaction.

"Forget it, just keep your whiny voice down. Don't need anyone hearing us a mile away." His accent got thicker as he hissed his words out at you. "My voice down? Really? Maybe if you hadn't given our spots away every ten minutes, we wouldn't even need to be hiding here! You ought to fix that little issue of yours.”

And that’s what set him off.

“You know what I think your issue is, little miss perfect? I think your problem is that you’re not ready to being a leader, yet they put you in charge of me anyway and you go along with it, ja?” With each word he spat out, he took a step towards you. “I am fully capable of working on my own. YOU left your post. YOU put yourself in danger. You don’t get to be an incompetent little rat then proceed to blame me for it.”

With large steps he’d leaned over you. His piercing eyes felt as if they'd stabbed you, looking down at you with anger, annoyance, disappointment through his hood. You could hear those words become unfamiliar, fuzzy, distorted. Guilt set in.

"You may be a better sniper than me, but you'll never gain that role of leader. It was a mistake they made to put you in charge of me."

König was never one to take advantage of his height with his teammates, he wasn't like this in general. He had a lot of pent up anger towards you, and by god you were scared out of your mind. But you couldn't show that. Not now, you couldn't let him know how much he frightened you. But he knew. He could easily tell. And so you just stood there with an unchanging composure, taking any of the words he'd hurled at you.

"I don't need someone to tell me what to do, and especially not someone like you. Go sleep your bitchy attitude off, I'll take first watch." And with that, he stormed away from you.

...

The bed was uncomfortable. But you weren't sure if it was the bed or if it was the tension in the room. You couldn't sleep. So you just laid there on your side, the argument rerunning itself over and over and over again in your mind. You were uneasy, on edge around him, even if his attention wasn't focused on you. Just being in the same room as him was enough. Yet you still felt petty enough to need to have the last word.

"You're an asshole." Muttering it out made your heart race, but you couldn't care any less.

The rustling of whatever he was doing stopped and after a while, you heard him let out a groan of irritation, muttering something in German under his breath.

"Will you quit it? It's over and done with. Hush up and go to sleep."

The way he'd growl at you to quit talking sent goosebumps over your body out of fear, yet you couldn't bring yourself to keep yourself quiet.

"No, I'm not going to quit." You'd said as you sat up from that uncomfortable mess called a bed. "You're an asshole. You need to hear that." You'd shot him a look of disgust as his eyes met yours from across the room. The lights were dim, but you could still see him quite clearly. You could feel as the air became thick again, the tension between you two growing once more.

"What are you expecting out of bringing it up again, Miss Perfect?" He'd shot back as his eyes glanced back to god knows what he was that he was doing, you couldn't quite make it out.

You'd yanked your legs over the edge of your so called bed, "I think you're forgetting I'm still in charge of you. I'd certainly accept an apology."

He didn't even look back up at you, it was as if he couldn't care any less.

"For what? Hurting your feelings?" He teased.

"You were extremely disrespectful and-"

"And nothing. Go back to sleep." He’d groaned, feelings of annoyance filling his system. Cutting you off just like that. But you were taking none of it.

“What is your problem with me!?" You'd stood up, making your way over to where he was sitting. Your own lips curled to a snarl, pointing fingers. "You have no reason to be so pissy with me, I've done nothing to you!"

This wasn't a common occurrence. Not for you. But he'd really ticked you off. König was being difficult, and you were too, but that didn't take away from the fact that you had no idea what he was so upset about with you. What he was REALLY upset about with you. As terrified as you may be by the hunk of the man, you weren't going to let yourself be demeaned by him.

You could see his eyes narrow at your words. His figure rose, towering over you. Your heart pounded in your chest as you felt your knees getting weak at the sight of the beastly stature leaning towards you.

"You really want to get into this, sweets?" Hands on his hips.

"I'm not going to let myself be degraded by you! Let alone someone I'm supervising."

And so you stood there, staring each other down. The tension was thick enough to cut with scissors. König, the very person you'd been training with for the past few weeks, standing over you for the very sake of intimidation. You'd almost thought he'd raise a hand at you, but you knew that he'd known better than to do such a thing. The person you'd become good acquaintances with staring down at you, seething, fury in his eyes.

"You want to know why I'm so upset?" jabbing his gloved finger at your chest, he took a step which caused you to take one back. He leaned down, making sure you'd hear every last word which escaped his mouth. "You know how much it kills someone when someone has the skills with a sniper you could only dream of? When you've been in the game for longer than you could imagine, and some little girl who's barely been in the game suddenly has the upper hand."

You couldn't believe it. Your eyes softened for a second before your expression had contorted again, taking a hold of his wrist with an iron grip and pulling it away from your chest.

"You've got to be kidding me..." you sighed, "this whole time your problem was THAT!?"

His eyes stayed focused on you with no sign of leaving.

"God, I hate you so fucking much." You snarled with a sick chuckle. This whole argument could've been avoided.

"The feelings' mutual, Schatz."

His face was so close to yours, you could practically feel his hot breath through the hood he had been wearing. Your hand was still latching onto his wrist, though your hand was starting to give in from putting all your pressure into your grasp.

You had nothing else to say, so you stayed silent. You both did, eyeing each other down to the core. It took a good while before you two had taken glances to the side where you held his wrist put. It seemed you'd both had the same idea as your grip loosened before he mirrored your wrist with his, taking your wrist into his palm. It fit perfectly. The way his hand could so easily wrap around it, taking a tight hold. It made your knees weak.

Your breathing quickened as you kept your eyes on his. The tension continued to thicken, though not just anger this time. There was something else filling the air. The feeling of that intimacy lurked around you two. It was too intimate for your liking, but you couldn't bring yourself to pull away. Your cold eyes glanced back to König's, but he wasn't looking at you anymore. No. His attention was centred on your lips. Fuck. You knew what would be coming next.

One minute, you two were ready to tear each other's heads off, the next, you two were making out. His lips against yours, hungry. Starving. Forceful, but not, both at the same time. The way his arm wrapped around your waist and pulled you closer, before he made you take some steps back enough for your calves to hit the frame of that pitiful thing you have been calling a bed.

You pulled away to catch your breath, a string of spit still connecting you two before the fabric of his masked fell to cut that string apart. He'd pushed you back as if he was in a rush, like if he was catching a train in an hour, lifting your legs so they'd wrap around his hips.

"If you really hated me, you wouldn't let me all up on you like this." He let out a sly chuckle as his hands pinned your wrists to you sides.

"Shut your fucking mouth and keep kissing me." You ordered, looking away from him in a bashful manner.

"Yes, Ma'am." He replied as he guided your hand to push the fabric of his mask away, revealing his lips once more before they crashed against yours. You both needed to let off some steam, it seemed that this was the most efficient way for the two of you.

You let out a small whimper as König began to move his hips against yours, grinding against down onto you. It wasn't long before he'd removed your trousers and pushed his middle finger inside you. He'd sucked on it a little beforehand to coat it with saliva, but it wasn't like it was needed anyway. You were practically soaking by the time he'd pushed it in, and it wasn't long either until he'd begun to curl his finger inside you which made you whimper at the feeling. He felt so much better than your fingers alone.

"Look at you, so wet already. Think you're ready for another finger?"

You couldn't help but tighten around his fingers already as he pushed a second finger inside you. You'd muttered a small 'fuck' under your breath at the feeling, earning a small hum of approval from König. His fingers could easily hit against that bundle of nerves. He knew he found it once you let out that cry of pleasure, making him chuckle as he rapidly pressed against the same spot over and over again which made you let out a symphony of moans and whimpers as your wetness grew.

He soon decided you were ready, becoming rather impatient as he'd quickly slide down his bottoms to reveal his growing erection. Your eyes gawked at him for how big he was. How would it ever fit.

"You sure you want to do this? Can't guarantee I'll be able to stop once we're started." His voice was low, the arrogant undertones tied in with the way he spoke irritated you.

You nodded.

With no time wasted, he lined his tip against your pulsing cunt before pushing into you. You let out a long sigh in unison with him as you felt him stretch you out with a mix of pain and pleasure. It wasn't long before he'd started moving in and out of you, and soon your voices filled the room along with the slapping noises of repeated skin-on-skin contact, making your eyes flutter closed as your legs wrapped around him.

The way he moved inside you was different. It felt different. It wasn't like anything you'd felt before. Perhaps hate sex was your new biggest turn on. Oh boy. This definitely wasn't going to be a one time thing. You could already tell.

You could feel yourself getting closer, and you could very much feel the way König was throbbing inside you. The bed creaked non-stop, the room reeked of sweat and sex, with no feelings behind it. Just sex. And goodness, did it feel good. Mustering up the strength, you propped yourself up onto your elbows to take in the sight of the man pounding into you. And like that, your eyes met his once more. Half closed with the slightest distortion, he let out a low chuckle as he gripped onto your wrists once more and pinned them next your head. With a single, extremely forceful thrust, he was able to hoist your hips up further against him, almost like in a mating press. The new position allowed him to hit a whole other region, able to slam against your g-spot over and over again, causing a harmony of whimpers and moans to emerge from your throat which you just weren't able to hold in. You were so lost in the pleasure, as you almost couldn't comprehend what König was speaking. Leaning down to press his lips against your neck, he whispered to you;

"See, Schatz? You're so much prettier when you're not unnecessarily running your mouth."

That stupid nickname. That stupid term of endearment he used on you drove you insane. Well, did he hate you or not? You could never tell. The way his hands slipped upwards, unballing your fists so he could intertwine his fingers with yours, the way he'd pound into you as rough as he could yet he'd still make that time to hold onto your hands, the way his lips would brush over bruise and bite mark he'd leave on your skin. It was all so confusing. So mind boggling. It made you want him even more.

"Y-You don't- oh fuck.. -hold the hand... of the person you hate during sex.." You'd managed to choke out a single sentence between König's thrusts. And he was having none of it.

"Shh, shh.." He'd shush you, "Halt die Klappe, stop fucking talking... stop talking. Keep quiet for me, Schatz." His hips began to slam against you faster, making sure to hit against every nook and cranny inside you. Schatz. That word echoed in your mind.

You were in no room to argue again so you did as you were told, you stopped talking and let your moans continue to spill out. You could feel yourself getting closer to your orgasm by the second, and it was only a matter of time before he removed a hand from your wrist and moved it between your legs, his fingers moving against your clit in a circular motion. He knew what you wanted, and he was going to give it to you. You could hear your heart pounding in your ears. His hot breath hitting against your sensitive, overly bruised neck, the way his fingers circled your plump bud, the way his thrusts felt like there was still no end in sight was all too much.

Taking in a deep breath, you rolled your eyes back before squeezing them shut. You were unable to hold back that loud cry of pleasure as your orgasm hit you like a tsunami, coming fully undone to those fingers of his. You could feel yourself pulsing and throbbing against his fingers, your hearing gone fuzzy by the time. You squeezed tightly around König's cock, in complete euphoria as he made you ride out your orgasm. Your hips bucked against his as you just barely opened your eyes again.

"Oh, Schieße... (Y/N)!" He'd moaned out as he pulled away from your neck and crashed his forehead against yours, gripping onto the flesh of your hips as he practically pulled you into him with each slam. One more thrust and he'd let out a final moan before filling you up with his seed. There was... a lot. You could feel his cum oozing out of you before he even pulled out.

Your breathing was heavy, both of you coming down from cloud nine. The best sex, and best orgasm, you'd ever had.

"You don't hate me." You were the one to speak first. The fabric of König's mask was pushing up against you every now and again with each heavy breath he'd release, "you don't kiss someone and hold their hands like that when you hate them..."

His eyes opened, staring right back at yours,

"You seemed like the type to need that emotional support, I was simply just trying to provide it."

"So you do still care about me."

He went silent before he closed his eyes again, burying his 'face' into your neck.

"... Halt die Klappe,,"

***************

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

Am I (27m) the asshole for wanting my boyfriend (28m) to be attracted to me?

This involves sex as a topic but won't get explicit, I'll keep it vague. I'm asexual. Completely sex repulsed in a physical sense, mostly due to autistic sensory issues. I've never had any interest in sex and didn't have any libido at all before going on testosterone, so the way most allosexuals tend to view and think of sex is something I've always struggled to understand.

In previous relationships, my asexuality was handled in different ways depending on the person. One boyfriend was totally fine just not having a sexual aspect to our relationship, another one had a hookup he got my approval on. The compromise me and my last boyfriend came up with was that he'd text me his fantasies about me and that did a lot for him without me having to physically be in the situation, and even if I didn't get anything sexual out of it I did enjoy it. It was a confidence boost. I dont generally consider myself attractive or desirable, i wear sweaters in summer because im so self conscious, and this compromise actually did a lot to help me see myself in a different light.

I recently got into a new relationship and, as with every relationship I've been in, there's inevitably a discussion about how we're going to compromise on this issue. My new boyfriend didn't know anything about asexuality and barely understood when I explained but he's very insistent about not crossing my boundaries, which I appreciate. But the problem is, since he'd never considered sexuality from a less direct angle, he didn't really know where to even start with ideas when we were trying to work out a compromise. So, I started making suggestions, thinking back to what worked for other people I'd dated. Just abstaining wasn't going to be doable for him so I didn't suggest it, and he wouldn't be comfortable with a hookup.

I remembered my ex used to be able to get something out of telling me about his fantasies so I asked if that was something he'd be into. I wasn't angling to try to get him to agree to something, I genuinely just wanted to know whether or not that was an option to consider. He didn't actually answer at first, he went quiet and then he answered the question with another question and asked "wouldn't something like that make you uncomfortable?" And I said "no, because the physical component is the thing I have issues with, not the subject matter itself. So long as I don't have to directly engage in the situation, I'm golden."

I don't know if this is something that was really stupid of me to say and my autistic ass just didn't realize, but since he's so careful about my boundaries and comfort and tends to fret, I thought his problem in the moment was worry that I'd be making myself uncomfortable in an attempt to meet his needs. So I hurried to reassure him and said not only would it not make me uncomfortable, I'd enjoy it in a way. Not sexually, but I enjoy knowing that my partner is attracted to me. It makes me feel good about myself.

He got really upset. He doesn’t get upset easily and hadn't ever gotten properly upset with me before (at least not to this extent) so I was very taken aback, but I was floored by his reason for being upset. Not word for word, but he essentially said "so basically you want me to frustrate myself to feed your ego?"

I was, I think understandably, completely fucking appalled by such a suggestion. I said of course not, I was just suggesting something I knew worked for someone else because even if it wasn't his thing, we could narrow down options by process of elimination. Which made logical sense, to me. He wasn't calmed though, he started saying things like "so, you want your partner to be attracted to you even though you never plan on actually letting them act on that attraction? Do you see how cruel that is?" And... I don’t know, which is why I'm submitting this here. Is that cruel?

From my perspective, I would think it's only natural to want to know your partner finds you attractive, doesn't everyone want to be wanted to some degree? I don't get some sort of sadistic thrill out of it as he seemed to be implying, and I don't want it to impact my partners in a negative way. If this was something he would find frustrating then no, of course I wouldn't want him to frustrate himself, we could look at other options. When I made the suggestion, I figured the worst that would happen was he'd say no and we'd narrow down the list of options. I never imagined my moral character would be called into question.

He's usually so, so nice to me and it hit really hard for someone who’s usually so fond of me to say I sounded selfish and vain. Both actual words he used when this devolved into an argument. I explained my reasoning for suggesting it to begin with but he said the issue isn’t the suggestion, it's that he thinks that it's fucked up of me to want my partner to be attracted to me when I'm not going to indulge that attraction and it makes him wonder if I'm really a different, worse person deep down and he's only now getting to see it. He called it a red flag. That seemed like such a leap to me but I don't want to dismiss the suggestion out of hand. Many bad people think they're good people, so it's not out of the question.

This was our first real argument, previous disagreements had been talked out very calmly but emotions ran high with this one. I dont know if this is something that triggered him for deeper reasons, considering his reaction was so intensely out of the norm for him, or if the whole thing just looks entirely different from the perspective of someone who isn't sex repulsed.

Am I the asshole here? Is it really as fucked up as he says that I enjoy knowing my partner is attracted to me even though I won't agree to have sex with them?

We didn't discuss the topic any more that night, and it hasn't been brought up since. He hasn't been treating me differently than before, but he's always proactively apologized before when he was in the wrong about things and he hasn't this time, so to me that says he still stands by what he said. His words have stuck with me and they’re eating at me. I feel like such a horrible person, and I have no idea if I should feel more or less guilty about this.

Tl;dr: my boyfriend is upset that I like knowing my partners are attracted to me even though I don't want to and don't intend to have sex with them bc he thinks that's majorly fucked up and a red flag.

What are these acronyms?

[purgaytorysupremacy]

oh nuts. a life experience has given me a new layer of perspective on Cas's homosexual declaration of love to Dean.

recently I had occasion to tell a person I had feelings for them knowing full well they didn't feel even a twinge of the same thing for me. while the whole thing was a decidedly unpleasant experience, I kept laughing at myself internally bc I didn't want to say "the happiness is just in saying it" like fucking Castiel over here. (we don't need to talk about it, it's fine.) (I am happier having said it and it's kind of bullshit, but I digress.)

because the thing is, the happiness isn't in just saying it, right? the happiness is in the having. I made a whole TikTok "proving" that the Empty didn't come for Cas when he confessed his love, but rather when he realized Dean loved him back. even for Cas, the happiness was in the having, not in the saying, however brief it was.

and I've always been one of those people who rolled their eyes at the whole concept. why would the happiness be in just being, in just saying it, if it's right there in front of you to have. and then it hit me like a tonne of bricks (as I was washing my kitchen counters).

Cas really didn't think he could have Dean.

at all. in any capacity. he really, truly, and honestly felt to the depths of himself that Dean did not have any twinge of similar feelings, that this really was a Hail Mary shot-in-the-dark. and I think me, personally, really didn't understand that about Cas. that his belief in his love being unrequited was that unshakable.

something else I've been pondering is how audiences have so much more empathy for fictional characters who share traits that IRL they find objectionable and unappealing. but the thing is about fictional characters is that we follow them around in their most private, vulnerable moments. we see Dean mourning Cas when he dies, literally killing himself because he can't live without him, but it's so easy to forget that we're the omniscient ones here.

Cas never knew.

Dean's whole thing was pushing him away, keeping him at arm's length, making it seem like whatever heroic thing he does for Cas he'd do for anyone. he downplays how important it is for Dean to share the Deancave with him, to show him his favourite movies, share his favourite songs. he acts like the things Cas does for him don't mean that much to hide how much they do mean. he uses "we" whenever he even gets in the vicinity of expressing a feeling. "We were worried." "We're glad you're back." "We needed a win." "You're our brother." The audience knew the difference. We saw how he'd clench his jaw or swallow hard or make a face that said "God, I'm being such an idiot". Because we saw him in those little moments. We got to see the cracks in the mask.

but Cas never knew.

the self-hating angel of Thursday was never going to think it was all a way for Dean to protect himself. obviously, that's the delicious tragedy of it all, but what I think I realized at the end of all that is Cas confessing his love to a Dean who didn't love him back wouldn't have worked. Because the happiness really is in the having. If happiness was just in saying it, then The Empty would have come before Cas even finished getting the words out of his mouth.

so Cas's plan wouldn't have worked if Dean didn't love him back.

this is just me yapping on about my own nonsense, but I do think it's really interesting. there's contentment in "just saying it". there's freedom and relief and an unburdening. I think one can argue that it makes being happy in the being easier. there is certainly some joy in telling a person you think that highly of them. but true happiness?

nah.

true happiness is always going to only be in the having. Cas didn't understand the difference until he experienced it, and by then, it was too late.