#the only guy as petty and relentless as him

[thlayli-ra]

Searched for 'Drew McIntyre attacked' on YT hoping for some yummy Drew in peril and almost all the results were like this;

I'm starting to think you brought this on yourself, mate! 😂

[aphrogeneias]

don't go (sharing your devotion) — one-shot

pairing: eddie munson x fem!reader

summary: eddie's jealousy was loud, just like everything else he did. or, eddie realizes he can't keep being the sole object of his best friend's attention forever and ends up screwing things up.

maybe it was about time.

word count: 2.1k

warnings: friends to lovers, jealousy (on eddie's side, he's not proud of it), light angst, unresolved sexual tension, a little bit of smut (+18), a hint of sub!eddie

author's note: was inspired to upload this to tumblr by @cursedyuta's stellar subby eddie content, and it made me remember i had this hidden. this was supposed to be two-part but i couldn't find the motivation to write any more, i'm sorry about the open ending! maybe it will gain a follow up one day, never say never <3

Eddie's jealousy was loud, just like everything else he did.

It stemmed from regret, pure and simple. Regret of not asking you out all the times you were alone with him, of not confessing his feelings, of not making you his when he had the chance. You weren't his, no matter how much he acted like you were.

As far as everyone was concerned, you were Eddie's girl. Being the only girl in The Hellfire Club — until Erica Sinclair's unexpected arrival, that was — and the only girl he was always seen with, it was easy to make that assumption, and neither of you really cared to clear those rumors. Something in his chest swelled with pride anytime someone called you his girlfriend and all you did was roll your eyes, but never tell them they were wrong.

Sometimes he wondered if you knew. You had to know, he wasn't exactly hiding.

His reputation did most of the work to keep guys away from you, but there were a few, brave ones who weren't really intimidated by Eddie "The Freak" Munson — alleged satanist, cult leader and whatever other false atrocity this town was willing to put on his shoulders. Those brave ones, the ones who asked you on dates and dared keep you from spending time with him, suffered with Eddie's relentless, petty teasing and practiced death stares.

Steve Harrington didn't seem easily intimidated by him in the slightest, though.

Eddie had all but scoffed when you told him you'd been going out with the former King of Hawkins High. It wasn’t until he saw the two of you together that reality started to sink in.

He didn't mean for things to get ugly, but the moment realized you were slipping through his fingers was an awakening he didn't think he could handle.

"What was all that about?"

Eddie shrugged, running a hand through his shaggy hair, a little humid from sweat. It was hot that night, even hotter inside the small downstairs bathroom you locked yourself with him in. Outside, the small party the drama club kids were throwing went on, voices and music being muffled by the closed door.

"I just wanted to know what Harrington was doing hanging out with low lives like us. Can't I be curious?" His voice was a bit slurred, no doubt from all the cheap beer he downed before and after Corroded Coffin's gig, fuming as he stared at you from across the room, all tangled with Steve, laughing at his jokes.

You leaned on the tiled wall, crossing your arms. He tried not to let his eyes wander lower, to the way your tits were pushed up in that halter top that left little to the imagination, but his was already running wild. "Do you hear yourself, Eddie? When you speak? Or did all that headbanging finally mess with your brain?"

"I think that would be the drugs, sweetheart."

It was a poor attempt to make you laugh, he knew. You knew it too, because your face remained impassive.

"You were curious, then. That's why you threw a fucking scene? Is that why you acted like an idiot and dragged me along with you, in front of all of those people?"

"Wouldn't be the first time." He mumbled, now unable to meet your eyes. Shame was something Eddie rarely felt, comfortable in his own skin most of the time, no matter what other people thought — but when it came to you, all he wanted to do was shield you from those same judgemental gazes, but instead, he put you right in the way of their scrutiny.

All because he couldn't stand the sight of you flirting with someone else.

"Goddamnit, Eddie! Can't you be serious for once in your life? This isn't the first time you do this shit but this time you went too far."

"I didn't like watching Harrington being all over you, okay? I didn't like knowing he's going to take advantage of you just like he does with all those other girls. Is that what you want to hear?"

He knew he was exaggerating, in fact, he knew nothing about Steve Harrington's intentions towards you, or any of the other girls he was seen around with, but none of that mattered to the ugly, jealous monster roaring in his insides.

Sighing, you close your eyes before looking right into his. "No, Eddie. That's not what I want to hear, but an apology would be nice."

The words "I'm Sorry" were stuck inside his throat, along with those three little words he struggled to say to you, as he watched you leave through the door and lose yourself amongst the crowd.

The day after your fight was spent in his trailer, nursing a bad hangover and a broken heart, both of which were his own fault, and the consequences of his reckless behavior. One of them hurt more than the other.

Eddie was sitting on the old brown couch on the trailer's porch as the sun went down on the horizon, smoking the uptenth cigarette of that cursed day when he saw Steve's burgundy BMW enter the trailer park from afar, and stop right in front of the Mayfield's trailer.

That wasn't unusual, since Steve was often checking up on the Mayfield girl, just as he did with Dustin, as far as Eddie knew. What was different this time was you on his passenger seat, looking as pretty as you did the night before. He stood up as he watched you talk, his heart clenching inside his chest when you exchanged a quick kiss before you both left the car, Steve going into the Mayfield's home and you made your way to the opposite side.

His side.

He could see it from afar, the pain in your eyes. There was rage too, lingering, somewhere in there. Your hips swayed with the determined movements of your feet, and he couldn't help but let his eyes linger on the mini skirt you were wearing �� the black one, his favorite. Not that you knew it was, but every time you wore it, his mind raced with thoughts of what was hidden under that tiny piece of fabric, struggling with the soft flesh of your thick thighs.

For a moment, he thought about how might look like to you, standing shirtless on his porch, a long since extinct cigarette hanging from his fingers, wearing those same old black jeans. He wondered if you could see the dark circles under his eyes, or if his hair looked like the bird's nest it certainly felt like. Eddie felt sick, unworthy of your presence, unworthy of you. He kept wishing you would turn away, back to the golden boy who had apparently won your heart, but suddenly there you were, right in front of him.

"Will you let me in, please? We need to talk."

Not trusting his voice, he nodded, stopping out of the porch and towards the door, where you followed him to. Once you were inside, the silence between you was heavy, oppressive, until you were the one who broke it.

“You know, you can’t keep guys away from me forever.” There was a shy, almost teasing, smile behind your words.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

He avoided your eyes, tracking back further into the house and in the direction of his room, knowing you would follow him. The angry stomp of your boots behind him was like music to his ears, it made his heart race into his ribcage unlike any heavy beat of bass drums.

At that moment, Eddie couldn't find anything more beautiful than you — standing in the yellow light of his room, eyes set on him, brows and lips set on a hard line, making him want to reach out and run his fingers through them to soothe your expression. You looked like an avenging angel, a goddess come to put him in his place.

There was no one else he'd rather be on his knees for.

“Yes, you do. You know exactly what I’m talking about, and the worst part is that you keep acting like nothing is happening, like… like you haven’t been doing this for years. Eddie, I’m…”, it weighed on his heart, the way you sighed deeply, stopping yourself mid-sentence, “I’m tired. I’m tired of dancing around whatever is going on here, so you’ll either spit it out and tell me what you want, or I’m gonna walk out of here and go home with Steve, because at least he’s not the one bullshitting me.”

It wasn’t often that Eddie Munson was left speechless.

Ever the wordsmith, he should have had the perfect excuse on the tip of his tongue, but instead, he has nothing. Eddie watched you with dark eyes, burning under your gaze, his mouth sewn shut. With one last look, a bullet through his already wrecked chest, you turned to leave.

"No, no, no!" Panicking as he felt you slipping through his fingers, Eddie finally reached out, running to stand between you and the door, voice rising in a whine, "Don't go with Harrington. Please, I'll do anything you want, just… stay, please?"

You hesitated a little before coming closer, neatly brushing his chest with yours, your perfume making him almost dizzy, making him close his eyes for a moment, taking you in.

"All I want is for you to tell me what you want." You insisted.

Placing his hands on his hips, the same hands that were itching to touch you, and looking up, chuckling with nervousness, he finally confessed, "I want you. Is that good enough for you, huh? Is that what you want to hear?" He caught himself repeating the same words as yesterday, only this time, he meant then. "In fact, you're all I've ever wanted. I want you so bad it's embarrassing, Y/N. It's fucking ruining me."

Eddie was met with silence, but at the same time he looked down to you, you raised your hands to rest them on his chest, spreading heat through the worn out Sabbath shirt he was wearing and into his skin. "Did it kill you to admit that?"

"No, but you are, baby."

"Consider it payback for all the years you wasted being an asshole and not realizing you could have had me this whole time."

Pushing him slightly, taking advantage of How distracted he was by your unexpected — or should they be expected? — words, you maneuvered the both of you until he felt his knees hit the edge of his bed.

"Can I still have you now?"

With a final push from your delicate hands, Eddie landed softly on the bed, lying on his back, his hair falling like a dark halo around his bed. He saw your expression soften as you climbed on top of him, straddling his hips. This time, he didn't restrain from touching you, letting his hands slide over the skin of your soft thighs, squeezing them lightly. He could feel the heat of your pussy from under the thin fabric of your panties, making him swallow back a moan. He wanted to grind against you, release a little of the tension rising in his jeans, but he kept still, waiting for your next move.

It felt like a dream, you on top of him, looking like every bit of a wet dream as well. Your hands grabbed his wrists and positioned them above his head as you lowered your face right above his flustered one.

"You see, the thing is… I don't think you deserve to have me right now, Eddie baby. You need to think about what you've done a little more, don't you think?"

A shiver ran down his spine with your words, making his body writhe under you, a wild fire spreading through him, ready to eat him alive — just like you looked like you were about to do.

"See, I'm gonna have to go and find a way to let Steve down gently, and then we're gonna talk, actually talk, about whatever this is," you motioned with your head at the two of you, "okay? No more running, no more hiding."

"No more running, no more hiding." He nodded frantically, repeating your words. Eager to get on your good side again.

"Good." You placed a sweet kiss to his forehead, a stark contrast to the torture you were putting him through. "Was that so hard?"

You had no idea.

[tyrantisterror]

Who are your top favorite personifications of death in fiction and what is it that endears you to each version specifically?

None will ever surpass Death from Discworld, a character of supreme compassion who toils endlessly to care for people and assure their end is handled with all the grace and kindness they have earned in life. He's in many ways a pitiable figure, full of love for the living that he is never able to get truly close to, horrified at the cruel realities of life that he cannot undo but merely soften, and rarely ever acknowledged for the hard work he puts in at every moment of existence. He is one with his Duty, responsible to a fault. Death wants nothing more than to give life, to preserve it, to make it so we don't suffer anymore, but he knows reality doesn't work like that, and can't work like that, so instead he does his job and does it well, making sure we get some atom of justice and mercy in death when it's earned, even and especially if we didn't get it in life.

It probably seems a bit trendy to list Death from Puss in Boots as my second favorite, but I think he's going to stand the test of time as one of the GOATs of death personified. He's terrifying and relentless, bringing a looming dread that hangs over the story from his entrance on despite him only popping up sporadically, exactly as death should. While he's an antagonist in the story, he, like Discworld's Death, holds life itself in high regard, and only pursues Puss in Boots so maliciously because Puss has failed to do the same, treating his lives as frivolous and expendable rather than the precious and finite gifts they are.

Death in Bill And Ted begins as a riff on Death from The Seventh Seal, but, after being beaten by the titular duo at a shitload of board games, slowly comes out of his shell to reveal he's actually a pretty sweet and fun-loving guy when he's allowed to get out of his gloomy work persona. It all continues this theme of Death cherishing life in its way - that the finite nature of life, its necessary end, makes it all the more valuable to cherish.

The Red Death from Edgar Allen Poe's The Masque of the Red Death is a bit more malicious, tormenting the courtiers of Prince Prospero's titular masquerade by reminding them of the plague they're all ignoring before finally killing all of them when it's dramatically appropriate to do so. But, like, they fucking deserved it, using their wealth and power not to help their countrymen, but to live in lavish luxury while the common folk die hideously to a vile disease. The Red Death, in his indomitable grip on humanity, ensures a certain level of justice is held - that while the rich and selfish may steal some escape from the grim realities of life, Death will come for them just the same as it comes for the poor.

I'm going to end with Death from the Castlevania show on Netflix, who's about as evil as Deaths get in fiction, and deliciously so. He's crass, vulgar, petty, and utterly selfish, which ironically makes him feel more human than anyone else on this list. Which works for how death and violence as a whole are shown a consequences of those very human vices - after four seasons of characters inflicting death wantonly for the sake of their own personal desires and faults, it makes sense that the Death of this world would have all that pettiness cranked up to the extreme - and that he is defeated by a hero deciding once and for all to rise above his own vices and faults to fight against impossible odds for the sake of everyone else.

[loveanaox]

Enhypens personality Off Camera

(This was a request from @sungine , thank you so much for the request!)

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Jungwon

Cards pulled out: The hierophant, the fool reversed, knight of swords, temperance

Yeah so what im getting is that off camera he's a very traditional guy with traditional values here and there he shares it, off camera he still can be a bit reckless like all the kpop idols, cause we all know they're humans. A little neglectful. But even the cards say a leader lmao. Still witty, sometimes daring, very like single- minded. But ja

He's a balanced guy off camera and has a little bit of patience and calmness. It's like he doesn't let things get to him, but he only gets to himself. If you know what I mean.

Overall pretty good tbh.

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Heesung

Cards pulled out: Knight of pentacles, the tower, the hermit, queen of swords reversed

Okay damn, so off camera he is practical, logical, hard worker, making his dreams come true, but at the same time extremely chaotic, which causes him to like go home take a shower and think deep about what he has done and how chaotic shit is. Very pessimistic too which causes him to be very nasty at times and make cruel comments, bad at communicating too.

He's a good person deep down and he means well, but communication skills are bad and he's too focused on the bad and being perfect.

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Jay

Cards pulled out: four of cups, the empress, page of swords, seven of pentacles.

Okay so he's very in his head a lot and he's so in his head that he misses good opportunities for him and he even refuses some offers to him, idk if it's pettiness or just because he's so stuck in his head, but he had a lot of nurturing and creative energy, not shocked from all his Taurus placements.

But he's more on guard and tries to think before he speaks and tries to not get into arguments. But ja sometimes he questions things a lot. Too in his head, but nothing too bad. He should just get out of his head otherwise depression starts.

Overall chill, but ja something he should work on.

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Jake

Cards pulled out: Ace of wands reversed, chariot, seven of cups reversed and the devil reversed.

So I feel like off camera he does have a lack of enthusiasm and gets bored easily and has a blocked creative side. Idk what stopping it but I think he's fixing it rn. He's overcoming obstacles and has self-discipline and some will power in him.

He's too focused on materialistic things and I feel like he feels trapped, but I think he out himself in that trap not gonna lie, he tries to avoid these problems but I think he realized he can't now.

Now he's getting over his addictions and gaining control again. Yaya yaya

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Sunghoon

Cards pulled out: king of wands reversed, seven of cups, queen of cups, the emperor reversed

Idk this is confusing, so he can be very nasty and abuse his power and be a bitch, but still very emotional like nice and kindness and shit, womanizer bro. Anyways. He might break a lot of his promises

He has a lot of options and he procratinates a lot and has a lack of enthusiasm, I don't blame him.

But he's very controlling ngl and abusive, or abuses his power. He seriously needs to get a grip of himself.

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Sunoo

Cards pulled out: Nine of cups, five of swords reversed, two of swords reversed and four of pentacles.

So off camera he is still very cheerful, optimistic, confident and had a high self-esteem. But he can be a little relentless and be emotionally cold to some people and be like cold and gone.

He can be very indecisive and he holds onto his fears and anxiety a lot. But that's not all he holds on to, he holds on top people, his belongings, ect ect.

A little stingy ngl and ja very possessive.

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Niki

Cards pulled out: all reversed, knight fo swords, three of cups, ace of pentacles and ace of cups.

Damn. So he can be a little hurtful with his words and be sarcastic, sometimes a know it all, he goes with the flow and is a follower. So he just follows the group.

He had a lack of social life and friends which is sad and he has a lack of security and he can be a little stingy with his money, he's very heartbroken though. Ngl I can imagine, he basically doesn't even have a proper teenage fun years. He has blocked emotions and stuff. Shame man he just needs more friends and people that will hear him

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I hope you guys enjoyed the readings. Till next time. Byeeee

[ex-textura]

well a little later than i expected but NO MATTER hello friend tav info dump you say I'm so sorry for the novel this is about to become

I mean you do already know of Vic, half orc eldritch knight with a martyr complex the size of the city. Grew up in Baldur's Gate, genuinely a really nice childhood he's got two younger siblings and lovely parents and I'm not positive in what way he got his soldier background but the boy is always a soldier of some kind (maybe a Fist? it's hand wavy). He was a whopping 21 when he got scooped up by the nautaloid and decidedly does not want to be a main character but shit keeps happening and Vic is gonna die protecting his friends or Vic is never gonna die

He's always been real into magic but didn't think of himself of the Wizardy Type growing up, and then the local wizard took the time to teach him magic and there was a very good reason he had a very big crush on Gale. It was Gale who pushed him onto the eldritch knight track specifically and Vic might not get the finer points of all the theory and technical jargon but that's fine he has a genuinely very good teacher

and then y'know. Wyll happened. and godsdamnit Wyll you were supposed to be the Unattainable Paragon of Justice and way too good for me but then he was just a guy with a determination to protect people as strong as Vic's own and this way of talking that sounded like he was constantly half a step away from writing an epic and maybe there was a bit too much wine at the grove party that led to a lot more self-confidence than Vic ever has but that kinda. happened. (the psuedo-breakup with Gale after the fact was not fun for anyone involved but ??? was that actually anything Gale there had been absolutely no conversation about it, they do eventually get back to actual good friend and there's the moment of Gale telling him "For the sake of absolute transparency, I may have slept with Astarion" and Vic choking on his dinner but they're friends again)

Karlach is the bestie from the very start. In their first little heart-to-heart by the fire there did have to be the "hey, so you know I'm like. really gay, right?" conversation, but from that point on she is constantly giving him enthusiastic thumbs up over Wyll's shoulder and the teasing is relentless. She clocked his formal training the first time they fought together and the soldier nickname is Incredibly fitting, they fight very well together and are both very physical people which is unfortunate before Dammon manages to cool the engine down. (Wyll has a "secret" scoreboard in the back of one of his books of the number of times Vic has forgotten, punched Karlach's shoulder, and burned himself. An additional category was started for "bad enough that Shadowheart had to heal it") She fully died in Grymforge, like got knocked down and then pushed into lava, and he had to pay Withers to bring her back and that was. not a good day at all, when she was back and mostly focused again Vic just preemptively called Shadowheart over so he could give Karlach a (very very quick) actual hug

he just wanted the tadpole out So Bad, bad enough he ended up with a magical eye for the troubles. Vic never touched the tadpole powers, figuring if he couldn't manage with his own sword and magic it wasn't worth doing anyway. The boy is decidedly in favor of relying on your own abilities, having seen far too many cases of the gods or others granting powers get petty, use them as leverage, strip them away on a whim, etc. fuck the gods, tbh, very glad we stopped Gale from becoming one or making one even more powerful

had to break his little sister out of the Iron Throne along with his future father-in-law and the only mind flayer he respects, because his little brother is unfortunately a very talented artificer and the job at the foundry seemed so good at the time. another No Good Very Bad Day, they got out of that place by the skin of their teeth and Vic is decidedly afraid of deep water now

Freed Orpheus because fuck the emperor that's an entire race enslaved by this litch, and then it is only by the stubbornness of his friends chipping away at that martyr complex this whole time that he realized turning into a mind flayer himself might. not be the immediate best answer (but also no fucking way is Karlach going to do it either)

It was So Much he's just a baby boy, he never wanted to be the protagonist, but now he's gotta go maybe kill the archdevil of Avernus with his two favorite people in what is the weirdest fucking honeymoon ever (it doesn't count wyll insists constantly we are not married yet, he knows it doesn't count)

i'll stop now (with This One......) because god that was in fact a novel but [holds him up like simba] baby boy. baby.

VIC!!!! IT'S VIC!!! MY HALF-ORC LOVE ITS HIM!!! Ugh I'm not even gonna pretend to be normal about him I'm sorry.

He's so goddamn cute with Wyll they're so beautiful together. I want. To see more. Of them. And him. Bleese.

Oh my god I love his dynamic with Karlach. I can just picture them rolling around like siblings and being the absolute best bros. Just. The wholesome-est trio with them and Wyll honestly.

IN THE LAVA OF ALL THINGS?! God that's like. Painfully poetic in a way. I hate it but of all the things to kill Karlach. God. I'm so glad he had Withers. And that he could give her all the hugs and shoulder punches in the world once she got fixed.

HIS LITTLER SISTER WAS ON THE IRON THRONE?! Man, fuck you Gortash. Where is she now? Is she safe? Did they have a big heartfelt reunion? does she love Wyll?

How's he doing in Avernus?? Did he get to come up for the reunion?

WHEN ARE THEY GETTING MARRIED?!

[tonightillbeonthathill]

Bruce Springsteen: No, it ain’t gonna save you; you gotta save yourself. And you’re gonna need a lotta help

Bruce Springsteen, Something In The Night (Leeds, July 24, 2013)

"Darkness on the Edge of Town is a cycle of songs that continually turns back upon itself in obsessive pursuit of Big Secrets. But the record’s themes might be understood even without lyrics. The sound is pounding and relentless; the guitar screams, the organ howls, the vocals roar, the drums crash. The music lets up only grudgingly, and then not for long. All of it points toward something—not the darkness per sey but what might be concealed there, discoverable only by those with immense vision and will.

You could say that this music is about survival, but not the easy kind that pop musicians and consciousness cults like to talk about. This sort of survival isn’t about being “happy” or having “fun,” or resolving the dilemmas of being sensually satiated. In this context, that kind of “survival”—in which demons are neither conquered nor conquering, but simply ignored—is far more meaningless than death itself could ever be. For Springsteen, survival is a matter of facing up to everything that saps psychic and physical strength; it means taking life on its own terms, and never giving in. “When Bruce Springsteen sings on his new album, that’s not about ‘fun,’’ said Pete Townshend, “that’s fucking triumph, man.”

The price for living to the hilt is paid in the currency of eternal vigilance. It costs something to beat back the slack moments and refuse the petty terrors of the everyday. “I wanna go out tonight,” Springsteen sings on “Badlands,” the song that opens the record. “I want to find out what I got.”

At the end of the album, a man stands alone at the bottom of a hill. He has never had much in a material way; by now, he has been stripped of what little he once possessed. Around him is little but wreckage and the temptation to join it. And in the face of this, this man raises his chin and sings:

'Tonight I’ll be on that hill, cause I can’t stop I’ll be on that hill with everything I got I’ll be there on time and I’ll pay the cost Of wanting things that can only be found In the darkness on the edge of town'

The singing now becomes a wordless moan, symbolic not of pain but of effort, the labor of a man trying to raise himself above his circumstances. There is not a hint of defeat. And the music continues, as we watch this man climb his hill, until he simply fades away, leaving us to wonder what’s at the top, desperate to know, convinced that it’s all been worth it."

Dave Marsh

Video: Darkness On the Edge of Town (Live at The Paramount Theatre 2009)

Video: Racing in the Street

'For all the shut down strangers and hot rod angels rumbling through this promised land.'

Dave Marsh: "There’s love in those words.

'Darkness on the Edge of Town' is an album about such people. It’s not an accident that the end of 'Racing in the Street,' where Danny Federici’s organ blends with Roy Bittan’s piano in a fuguelike cry, is the warmest, most affectionate moment on this stark album."

“The characters ain’t kids,” Bruce Springsteen once told Tony Parsons of New Musical Express, “they’re older—you been beat, you been hurt. But there’s still hope, there’s always hope. They throw dirt on you all your life, and some people get buried so deep in the dirt that they’ll never get out. The album’s about people who will never admit that they’re buried that deep.”

"When Springsteen reaches the final lines, promising that tonight his baby and he will “ride to the sea and wash these sins off our hands,” some shrug and walk away at this crazy guy’s inflated notion of the importance of trash. Others stick around and hear something a lot better: a promise that if you let the little things add up, they count for more than all the monuments in the world."

Bruce Springsteen: “So that was the night that we left. Just packed up our bags. We still don’t know where we’re goin’ yet, but I guess that’ll come in time. As for this place, well, there’s a lot here that we’ll always remember. But sometimes it seems like time gets runnin’ so short on ya that it’s gonna run out. And so much gets lost and left behind that there’s not much that you can do but to keep searchin’ and to keep on goin’, and to keep on goin’, and to keep on goin’, and to keep on goin’, and to keep on goin’, and to keep on goin’…”

Bruce Springsteen & Dave Marsh: “Nebraska” and “Johnny 99” are songs about people who cannot hear those voices, the consequence of which is a death sentence. But “Reason to Believe” is something worse: a requiem for those who have heard the voices, pursued them to the end, and then discovered that they were lying. It’s about the greatest menace that lurks in the darkness on the edge of town, about the compulsion to leap into the river and be swept downstream, about the temptation to run and keep on running, not toward freedom but away from the facts. Springsteen defines the song precisely: “That was the bottom.” “But at the end of Nebraska—it’s kind of ironic—I wrote another song with the word born in it, which is really weird,” Springsteen observed. “And from that point on, the answer to ‘Reason to Believe’ was ‘Born in the U.S.A.’—I guess either record, but particularly the live version. That’s the answer to it. That’s the only answer that I can perceive. And that connects back to ‘Badlands,’ you know. And that was the moment that I felt I’d gotten things in a little healthier perspective, and that I stopped—I didn’t stop using my job; I stopped abusing my job, which I felt part of me had been doing. In the end, I just understood a lot more about what it takes to get by. “No, it ain’t gonna save you; you gotta save yourself. And you’re gonna need a lotta help.”

Read more:

Dave Marsh: "Bruce Springsteen: Two Hearts, the Story" (Ebook available online)

[x0401x]

Would you mind to tell us about Kuon Takumi? Seems like a lot of people hate him

Thanks!

They have lots of reasons to. 😂

We readers know that Ayano is really good at creating characters. She comes up with interesting and compelling little guys who all manage to add up to the story in very distinct ways from one another. But amongst so many hits, at least one was bound to be a miss. And that’s Kuon Takumi.

I wouldn’t say I hate Takumi, but I can’t like him. Actually, I don’t think anyone can like him, given that there’s nothing to like. Dude has nothing going on for him. He has literally zero redeeming or relatable qualities. Seriously. Throughout the entirety of volume 3, we are only ever shown how insufferable he is, with no real motive as to why he is the way he is. We get some vague hints as to a possible reason, but they’re as palpable as smoke and you definitely need to do some interpretation in order to catch on.

Another thing I don’t like is how Ayano handles him. Everyone in Tsurune, be it a main, secondary or even background character, feels real and believable. But this bastard? He doesn’t even feel like a human being. From the perspective of someone who’s read this volume in Japanese, this kid’s vocabulary is just unhinged. The way he talks is something I’m afraid might get lost in the fan translation, but trust me when I tell you that he speaks and acts like some Heian Period nobleman… in a bad sense. It’s just not natural and it’s weird that nobody ever points this shit out or even makes fun of him for it. I mean, they do point out that he’s rude and tell him to get off his high horse, but come on. They’re a bunch of teenagers! Anyone would be laughing their ass off before they can feel remotely offended by the things this little shit says. Why is nobody making jokes at his expense the moment he opens his mouth for the first time??? This drives me nuts!

But anyway. To summarize Takumi as a character, he’s a spoiled rich kid who thinks he and the likes of him are inherently above everyone else. He idolizes Shuu but in a different way from how the twins used to. As in, he treats everyone except Shuu like crap and treats Shuu like a god. Shuu ignores every single attempt of his at getting closer but he keeps trying, and he’s irrationally jealous of Minato because Shuu pays attention to him. He’s also kinda jealous of Ryouhei too but Shuu is very obviously closer to Minato, so Minato is the main target of his pettiness. And like I said, this pettiness is just relentless. He has Shuu in his head 24/7 and, like, I get that he thinks Shuu is amazing and all, but this feverish obsession is so out of place in the story. Plus, he acts so villainous at times that it just feels cartoonish and caricature-like. And again, no reason is ever properly established as to why. Ayano just drops this motherfucker on our laps and runs. It often feels like he’s the result of her trying too hard to come up with a disposable antagonist before the deadlines were due and this was the best she could do.

[dreadwhoop]

Reviewing the All Elite Wrestling personnel 2024 Edition (Part 2) -

GET RID OF -

Continuing the time-honored tradition of an ex-WWE talent failing to live up to their hype, from Ruby Soho to Saraya to now Mercedes Mone, this one is particularly jarring because it has been one cultivated from before last year's review. I don't know why Mercedes insists on making the wig stay on - the idea of it falling OFF would be an incredible spot but her ego prevents her success. Not to mention she's looking like Dante Martin in terms of having to take an extra step each time - really makes me worried Adam Cole is also done - foot injuries are terrible tragedies on otherwise good workers. The point is I'm not saying Mercedes cannot have some purpose in this company but it's obvious not in the position she's in because it has only highlighted better wrestlers like Stephanie Vaquer or Willow Nightingale or Hikaru Shida or even Kamille. The epitome of stagnation. Also I'm half-convinced she's after Tony Khan's money in more ways than one.

The CM Punk replacement didn't go so well did it? Started out okay, ended up as expected - a candle already burned down decides to light up like a firework and fizzled out like a dud. Adam Copeland might be one of the most impressive wastes of investment by AEW because he didn't have to work half as hard and would of gotten twice as much from it. Rather than being a wise veteran he catered to the crowd. But didn't Punk injure his foot? Yes but it was by accident not intent of a choice from otherwise breaking your fused neck. But didn't Sting do the same kind of dives and he's older? Sure and I didn't like it either what's your point? At least he wasn't doing it nearly as relentless and neither are a lot of smart talent at his age. Anyone who has to keep up with the talents decades younger are not providing a future but reminding us the past is gone. It was a good run Adam now walk your career out with some dignity before you limp off as a miserable failure.

Speaking of CM Punk, here's a guy being punished entirely for being his friend! (Hi Serena Deeb waves) - Danhausen could of easily been a hot property and yet AEW are being petty by devaluing his importance to the point of persona non-grata. If you don't want to use him then release him you're effectively committing career malpractice. Danhausen is WWE-bound when his contract is up but until then he's a shocking reminder why AEW has a dying fanbase - talent they could have grow it are not allowed to show up.

A loser incarnate. If we were to be generous and say 'favor hire' I don't even know if it qualifies the analogy - when you have had the likes of Leva Bates, Rebel, even newer prospects like Harley Cameron trying to wonkily work through her ineptitude, someone who is meant to coach a division where more than half the roster already surpasses her career at half the time makes me realise nice people are only nice if they can back it up with good wrestling. Is she the female Joey Janela? Maybe too harsh. You know who would of been a better coach? Allysin Kay. At least she's a solid talent and can teach a lot to others.

Wrong place, wrong time, wrong gimmick. Everything about them looks 2nd-rate, derivative, and in bad taste. So naturally they should join Moxley's new faction! In all seriousness, these two have floundered to find footing in this company and yet when guys like MxM Collection or The Outrunners come in with equally ridiculous gimmicks the crowd clicked. Putting with Lance Archer felt like an afterthought and debutting so close to Bray Wyatt's untimely demise didn't help. Generally, as creative as I can be, even I struggle to figure out how to make them useful. The only thing I can muster is the concept they're so completely anti-hate they beat people up only to let them win or they go after Mox's faction in an almost shoot way, kidnapping Renee Paquette, and asking what's more important - your morals or your marriage. It's almost Brian Pillman cliche but pretty much anything in AEW is a Brian Pillman wannabee. Otherwise these guys have no purpose in this company and should return to the indies where they belong.

By contrast, the problem with Private Party isn't a case of wrong place or wrong time or wrong gimmick. It's the simple fact they're not already a successful tag team and after 5 years all they can lean on now is the hope they can join some pro-Black faction with MVP and Lashley when they should be established like the Acclaimed are or something memorable beyond their 'fluke' win to the Young Bucks back in 2019. Imagine coasting your careers off this one win? Imagine how little it means now you get choked out by Marina Shafir. Being jobbed out too many times and made to look like weaklings to a guy like Keith Lee, who has not even shown his face more than what a handful of times this entire year, maybe less I forget his last showing, but this was the last time I truly remember Private Party having relevance…oh wait remember their time with Matt Hardy? Yeah it's just bad after bad after bad with no sustained importance. They're jokes and I resent their longevity in this company.

Speaking of people coasting on careers, here's the Walmart Will Ospreay! Excuse me my bad - the Dollar Store Hologram! Wait wait I can go one better - the spare Dante Martin! Wow. How has he not realised his role in this company, being constant reminder of the problems of keeping Jericho or others I've excluded from helping said company, indicates either he's got a hollow dome between his ears or he's in denial of the fact there's nothing for him. We're so oversaturated with high-flyers now nobody would miss him. Nobody. You already forgot who I was talking about didn't you?

I've given up with this guy. One of the most talented people to ever grace the wrestling world and yet never reached its full potential all because he felt undeserving of it. The amount of chances this guy has got to go to the top and the amount of times he's proven he belongs at the top is why the fact he's never been THE GUY is one of wrestling's biggest letdowns. I can't stand loser mentality. It's not humble, it's not inclusive, and it's not going to make people enjoy a product when simpering crybabies insist on telling everyone it's their "Last Ride" since they BEGAN IN THIS COMPANY 5 YEARS AGO. How can I even want to get rid of younger talent who could still turn their careers around like the above mentioned Private Party or Action Andretti and not include Dustin Rhodes? In many ways he's in the exact spot Jeff Jarrett was in last year - get Oldust off TV and make him a backstage guy.

Bit of a late-minute inclusion because I've noticed a worrying thing about his voice recently and it seems to be breaking. Even if it's just an off-day or two the fact remains he's now getting long in the tooth to connect with fans. If AEW wants to grow they need to find a good replacement and the only reason why Schiavone hasn't been replaced is because they don't trust anyone - another classic case of AEW not understanding how to be anything but a 2nd-rate version of what existed before - why be good when you can be competent on a consistent basis? Celebrate mediocrity!

The last spot is usually reserved for someone I think people may have some issue with getting rid of because it requires a bit more discussion. Not here. A grifter. A parasite. A glorified fan. Alicia Atouttletale. Congratulations MJF - you're dating the female Excalibur - put a mask on her and you'll have it all. I'm so tired of evil people covering up as good people because they want to be as sociable as possible but the moment a talent raises a point against your bias you suddenly go nuclear and try to destroy everything established. It's petty pitiful behaviour. No apologies or regrets from them. But hey - prove me wrong and make her replace Tony Schiavone above if you think she's good enough for it. They won't. It won't put butts in seats. Make her replace Renee Paquette - oh wait it won't happen. Not even Lexy Nair will get replaced by her. Where is she on AEW's Totem Pole for her to effectively stall Britt Baker's career? The only reason it's not the No. 1 worst thing in AEW this year is because the Brawlout footage embaressment happened. Think about the tolerance people have for backstage garbage and how badly it has affected AEW's brand and now think about how she's gotten away with it because people behind the scenes support her. Imagine what she'd get away with if people knew who she was. Max - go to WWE and leave this trash behind before you embarrass yourself an inumerable amount of times. Wonder if MJF is still tight with Drake…

Ususally I don't include talent not officially included on AEW's roster page but if Anthony Ogogo and Lee Moriarty are listed under Shane Taylor Promotions but not the guy himself then I call it a technical oversight. Ahem - Shane Taylor is the mid-form of Mo and Mabel from Men on a Mission. Also, now we got MVP, Bobby Lashley, and Shelton Benjamin here…yeah thanks for the good memories…weren't you the lesser Keith Lee…?

[lostlabyrinths]

i didn't know who else to turn to. / kyle and guerin !!! / @ownmidnight

IF HIS HIGH SCHOOL SELF COULD SEE HIM NOW. it's a petty thought. pettier than guerin would have liked in that moment, but the picture of KYLE FUCKING VALENTI at HIS door, begging for HIS help meant hell must be frozen and opening some kind of evil ski resort. like squeezing water from a stone, michael guerin truly thought he'd never see the day. the problem, however, is that particular brand of satisfaction is short-lasting. so short, he doesn't even really get to enjoy it because now he gets it. gets the full picture: understands that alex wasn't just wrapped up in his work with his phone turned off. wasn't ignoring his texts because of some unspoken slight guerin had made. ALEX WAS MISSING. AND KYLE FUCKING VALENTI was the only guy who could help. karma was a beautiful, relentless bitch. he leaves the door open and walks back in the house. a dual purpose motion of not necessarily having to invite KYLE FUCKING VALENTI in to his and his boyfriend's sacred home, and sparring no time to get his keys and phone. maybe even a third satisfaction of not answering kyle's cry for help so immediately, despite giving it readily. " deep sky, yeah? " guerin could bypass all their multi-million dollar security with just the nod of his head, but he had to entertain the idea that this was not a bridge he could yet burn if alex was fine. ONLY because his boyfriend would be sad. all the other repercussions be damned. he had to control the anger simmering beneath his skin. too hot, and he'd get them into an even worse position than they'd started with. he throws the question over his shoulder, steps sure and confident in their motion to GET MOVING " when was the last time you heard from him? "

[tiphprince]

To me, this post illustrates exactly why people are fed up with the Regulus stanning and Snape hate. Now, of course you can like Regulus and dislike Snape, but it's the justifying that annoys people, and this is the absolute best example.

Like every single person who hates Snape, you paint your favorite in a very good light, and then go and list every bad thing Snape did, as if that somehow constitutes an objective argument.

Regulus was a child, who belived in ideologies that he was taught from birth, indeed. Snape was a child, who was abused by his muggle father and bullied by the "good guys" for existing. They were both children, with unfortunate family lives that heavily influenced their decision.

Why is Regulus a child/teenager, and Snape a grown man? They spent roughly the same time as loyal Death Eaters before they both betrayed Voldemort because a loved one was hurt/in danger.

However, what people hate the most, is this

he sacrificed himself to avenge his beloved house elf (ntm we've seen the way other death eaters/blood purists treat house elves, Regulus was an outlier for that

versus

The only reason he betrayed Voldemort in the first place was because Voldemort was going to kill his crush, he did not gaf otherwise and he also didn't gaf that James and Harry were in danger too. If Voldemort had chosen Neville instead of Harry, he probably wouldn't have ever switched sides.

THIS is exactly the hypocrisy that people talk about.

Oh, poor Regulus, sweet amazing Regulus, who risked it all for his house elf. So brave. So seflfess.

Oh, creepy disuting Snape, who risked it all for a mere crush lol lmao that obsessed incel stalker and anyway if circumstances were different, then things would be different, maybe, but no one knows, but for the sake of hating on him they would for sure be different.

Where's the "if Kreacher hadn't been hurt, Regulus probably wouldn't have switched sides"? Where's the "Regulus didn't care about the innocent people Voldemort murdered left and right"?

That's the hypocrisy.

They both had very similar reasons for changing sides, they both did it when they were very young, they both were ready to die to help someone they loved. Yet, when talking about the two characters at the same point in life, Regulus is hailed as a hero, while Snape is dismissed for having the audacity to still love Lily.

I get disliking Snape because of his behavior as an adult, but the truth is that in the Marauders fandom, when fanfictions take place at least a decade before he became a teacher, the one true difference between Regulus and Snape is that one is handsome and rich and the other poor and ugly.

(By the way, calling Lily Snape's "crush" is as dismissive and nonsensical as calling Kreacher Regulus's "pet". She was his best friend for years, he loved her and she loved him (platonically), she wasn't a random girl he crushed on.)

(By the way 2, no, attempted murder, sexual assault, and at least 6 years of relentless bullying is not "petty schoolboy grudges". Teenagers kill themselves every single day because of the bullying they go through, and Snape shows clear signs of trauma because of what the Marauders did to him.)

Idk if this'll ruffle some feathers but tbh it baffles me when people say its hypocritical to like Regulus but hate Snape but like... Was Regulus a bad person? Yes absolutely! But he was also a child who believed in horrible ideologies because that's all he was taught, he saw examples of what happened to family members who betrayed those ideals, and he ended up having doubts about being a death eater all on his own before he sacrificed himself to avenge his beloved house elf (ntm we've seen the way other death eaters/blood purists treat house elves, Regulus was an outlier for that). It's fun to think about the what ifs of his character, like whether he would've eventually unlearned his prejudices had he lived, whether he would've switched sides completely, etc. We don't know, because he didn't even live long enough to reach his 20s. We have no idea what his personality was like either, we only heard about him second-hand.

With Snape there's no what if scenario because we see the kind of adult he became and he's still terrible, in more ways than one. The only reason he betrayed Voldemort in the first place was because Voldemort was going to kill his crush, he did not gaf otherwise and he also didn't gaf that James and Harry were in danger too. If Voldemort had chosen Neville instead of Harry, he probably wouldn't have ever switched sides. Even beyond being a death eater he had a horrible personality too. The way he treated Harry, Neville, Hermione, and probably countless other students as a GROWN ASS MAN let alone being their TEACHER was atrocious. He was literally holding onto petty schoolboy grudges.

This is just my opinion. I think it's totally fine to like either one or both or neither, and I'm also not in any way excusing Regulus's racism or the fact he joined the Death Eaters. I just don't think its fair to compare a grown man with an teenager who didn't even get the chance to change before he died

[radiant-reid]

Can we get a little blurb of Spencer being jealous because the readers ex, who’s also an agent,crossed paths and they have to work with one another on a case.

"In the interest of things not being awkward on this case..." You start, trailing off to give Spencer a chance to pay you attention.

He frowns slightly but his eyes are on you instead of your go-bags in the back of the SUV. The team's latest case is in San Diego, along with someone, and you thought it easiest to tell Spencer now in your tiny moment alone.

"...The guy running the FBI field office there is my ex-boyfriend." You finish the thought, biting down on your bottom lip as you wait for a reaction.

His eyebrows shoot up, and his face pales. "Oh."

"It was before I joined the team here, back when I lived in South Carolina. We were both agents working out of the satilite office there." You explain, unsure of if it's helping or not. "Please don't be upset."

Spencer frowns more as he shakes his head. "I'm not upset with you for having dated other people, love." He assures you, leaning down for a second to kiss you without even looking around to see if anyone else was watching. "Plus, I'm sure he'll be professional."

You resist the urge to scoff at that, Bradley is not known for his professionalism. "Yeah." You agree for his benefit.

~

You dread every second after you step out of the SUV in front of the San Diego FBI office. Spencer's attitude was different on the jet, with fewer facts and slightly more touching.

As soon as the door opens and the team walks in, he's there, offering out his hand to shake. "Bradley Howard." He introduces himself, shaking everyone's hand. "Brad's fine."

To your surprise, Spencer goes for a handshake. "Doctor Spencer Reid."

That was why and you bit down a little smirk at his pettiness. It disappears when Brad goes for your hand, kissing the back of it and making you cringe. You avoid looking at the team, although you know you're going to have some explaining to do.

Noticing your embarrassment, Hotch assigns you a job away from the office which unfortunately leaves Spencer and JJ with your ex and you hoping they can both be mature.

Once you get back from the crime scene, JJ pulls you aside. "Spence is close to killing that agent, what's the story?"

You sigh because you should have known things would go south. "He's my ex-boyfriend. What happened?"

JJ's eyes widen before she chuckles a little. "Well, firstly, he asked if you were seeing anyone, then there's just the whole muscley, tan blondness."

It wasn't lost on you that they were basically polar opposites, but what Brad had in physical skill, Spencer more than made up for in intelligence.

"Okay, I'll go diffuse some tension then." You say, quickly mentally preparing yourself before walking into the conference room.

It's tenser than you imagined it would be and the two of them are sitting at opposite ends of the table, Spencer quickly skimming through pages roughly enough to leave papercuts. He always does that when he's angry and it leads to his fingertips needing band-aids.

Brad's dumb enough to talk first, clearly disregarding the fact you sit right next to Spencer. "Hey, Y/n, I was thinking we should catch up after this case is over."

Spencer tenses next to you, his hand slipping onto your thigh protectively. You shake your head. "I'm good, thanks."

He's relentless with his offer, much to both your and Spencer's annoyance. "Maybe go for a drink?"

"No, not at all." You shoot him down again. Next to you, you can feel the anger radiating off Spencer, he's clenching his teeth so tightly his jawline looks hot and his eyes are darker than you've ever seen them.

Before Brad can open his mouth again, Spencer finally snaps. "She said no, man, as an agent yourself, it's disturbing you can't respect that. Also it's Agent L/n, probably Agent Reid the next time you see her."

You stiffle a laugh, only letting it out when Brad rushes out of the room with a quick apology. Once he gone, you grin over at Spencer. "You're cute when you're jealous."

"Kind of," Spencer reveals, pouting more than he was smirking now, all that pettiness gone. "He's very different to me, and then he tells JJ about how the only reason the two of you even broke up was that you were joining the unit."

You can see his heart breaking in the way he refuses to look at you. "Spence, that's kind of only what I told him." You assure him. "And I know you're different but I love you, not him. I can't imagine loving anyone else."

That made him smile a little more when he looks up at you. "I love you too."

You do something you don't usually do and you lean in to kiss him quickly. "Good, now let's work this case and get the hell out of California."

[ineffably-human]

Okay. [cracks knuckles] Let's do this.

"never beat him at anything"

Already this isn't secretly describing Guillermo. Guillermo beating him in a fight earned him a marriage proposal. He starts this list after he's bested in a fight specifically, which is meant to invoke that confrontation - and remember the fight was "what [he's] been waiting for." So we are not looking for Guillermo in this list, or if we are, we have to be selective to do it.

"humble"

I mean, Guillermo CAN be humble, or can at least humble himself. He didn't walk around with a secret enormous ego all those years. But he loves being flattered and given positions of power, he knows his worth and likes it being vocally appreciated. (Y'know who isn't humble basically ever? Nandor.)

"an excellent listener" I think he is, actually. You'd have to be, to be any good at his job.He once very clearly complained that Nandor wasn't listening, because Nandor wasn't. Listening was, at one point, not a Nandor strong suit. "not petty"

They both can be this, for sure. Guillermo moreso. Usually when he's jealous. "or slovenly Neither of them. Slovenly dude is being walked towards the djinn execution room over this line, though. "or vain" Another thing that is VERY Nandor and can sometimes be Guillermo, but not appearance-wise. 'Slovenly' and 'vain' are contrasts, too. Because Nandor is trying to describe perfection.

"or manipulative" THIS is Guillermo, but it's a recent trait and it's kind of from necessity. At this point Nandor's leading four different people down the hallway that presumably correspond to these traits, all to the djinn coin room. "never asked [him] to shave off [his] beard" Only a madman would do such a thing. But clearly at this point we're not looking for 'these are all things Guillermo has done,' either. Background dialogue: 'This guy I don't trust.' (In what? But Nandor clearly trusts Guillermo.) 'This one never learned to read.' (A little unfair but sure, wants education, good conversation..) 'I like her but she's so much smarter than me.' (Again two contrasting things, and a hilarious side-eye from Guillermo at this line that also looks a little worried. Because Nandor's clearly all over the place, or because he's gonna have to look hard to not find anyone smarter than him? You decide!)

"warm, and wanted to be with [him]"

This is Nandor's insecurity again, it's about his own desirability to the person. Contrasting images in the montage: a woman literally shivering in the pool next to him, because he has no body heat, and a guy (one of the Dalals) who clearly is not into him and vice versa.

"kind"

I do think this describes Guillermo, for more please see [gestures to wall of Guillermo apologist meta]

"a good haggler"

When the hell would Nandor have seen this in action during his living years, when he led a country/army? Guillermo seems pretty decent at this though. Something to watch out for in the actual Night Market.

"never borrowed [his] boots without asking [him]"

Nandor, honey, do you even want to get married? (No. No he doesn't. Not this way, anyhow.)

"merciful"

Applies to Guillermo. Applies IMO to modern Nandor who seems to value it. Does not apply to Nandor The Relentless Who Is Pillaging Everyone You Included. Also not sure when he would have had an opportunity to see this in action.

"horny"

Give Guillermo a few rounds with a British starter boyfriend, Nandor, I think he'll get there.

"had a sense of spontaneity and fun"

Applies to both of them, I think.

Okay, so this isn't all describing Guillermo or his opposite. Some of it is describing the opposite of Nandor, some of it is countering anything that might challenge or inconvenience him. But this person isn't anybody, like it's not even a made-up version of a person. They almost certainly didn't exist.

The episode hands it to us, actually. The one thing he remembers is that his love had long dark hair. (He could've just ruled out anyone who didn't without summoning them, but nope.) At the end, when fucking with Marwa's hair, he says he always imagined his wife would have blonde hair. Then he immediately changes his mind, ultimately taking it back to how she started while not being fully pleased with it, saying nothing is too good for his 'perfect wife'. Because he's gone from a supposed memory of true love to a fantasy of perfection, and he can't land on what 'perfection' means to start with.

Nandor didn't want to get married until five seconds after he asked Guillermo to be his best man, and he didn't want it to be this mysterious past love until he realized he could resurrect old romances. What he really wants is to cover up loneliness with a new endorphin high as soon as possible, because Guillermo is so close to walking out that door the minute these made-up tasks run out, Nandor can feel it. And this is how Nandor deals with feelings.

[youwerenevermeanttofeelalone]

The Kind that Never Slows Down | Damian Wayne

✦ pairing — older!Damian Wayne x female!Plus Size Reader

✦ word count — 10k

✦ summary — Gotham is hit with a spell that changes your perception of Damian forever.

✦ warnings — nsfw, semi-public sex, non-con sex (not really but just to be safe), angst, language, light jealousy, light possessiveness, mentions of food, smut, unprotected sex (please don’t do this), consensual sex, vaginal sex, cunnilingus, fluff.

✦ author's note — this one should’ve been published a long time ago, but I just got around editing it. Hope you like it.

════════════════════════

The abandoned building smelled like piss and mold, the only light available entered through a broken window, and you were pretty sure you had heard rats roaming around.

But you didn’t care. Robin’s hands were all over you, plump lips sucking on your neck like his life depended on it as he pounded into you.

It wasn’t enough.

He had skipped foreplay on your insistence. You needed him more than anything, if he didn’t fuck you right there in that moment you wouldn’t be able to survive.

He grunted out of pleasure as you clenched around him, gripping your hips to ground himself as he picked up his already relentless pace.

It still wasn’t enough.

Having his cum down your thighs and marks over your neck from his kisses wasn’t enough either. Your body craved all of him, including his whining and abrasive words.

Noise outside prompted him to part from you completely. Both of you fixed yourselves as best as you could in silence, avoiding looking at the other.

You followed him outside with a sense of guilt hovering over you like a dark cloud. You felt like you had just gotten out of a trance after committing the worst of the crimes.

Nightwing stopped you by yelling, “Where were you? I looked for you two everywhere.”

“We were looking for you,” Robin lied smoothly.

Nightwing’s shoulders slumped as he nodded. “Well, Zatana undid the spell.”

Suddenly Damian’s urgent voice as he said he needed you made all the sense in the world. His need for you and your need for him had been magic-induced.

Of course it had been! You two were mere acquaintances who fought all the time for the most minimal things in the world or ignored the other to the point of making people around you uncomfortable. It was a surprise that you worked well together at night.

“A lust spell, right?”

“Well, no,” Nightwing chuckled. “According to her, the spell showed people what their heart desires the most.”

Robin stiffened beside you, and you felt every drop of blood drain from your face and fall to your feet.

“Did you hear a lot of people having sex?”

“Yeah,” you croaked. “Tons of them.”

The moment you got home, you ripped your suit off and walked into the shower. You washed his cum off you, scrubbing your body twice just to make sure.

Wishing the soap could erase the marks on your neck and the memory of the way he had moaned your name, you decided to take a pill to sleep.

You hadn’t needed one of those in months, but Damian was that special. Or annoying.

God, you hated him and his stupid ego. He would surely find funny the lengths you would have to go to put this in the past.

He loved being the center of attention as much as he hated you, that was why you always tried your best to avoid him. When you didn’t avoid him, he made weird faces at you and scoffed every time you laughed.

Turning the lamp off, you hoped for the best.

Meanwhile, Damian ignored Dick’s inquiries. Why did his brother care if he was extremely quiet or if he looked like he was about to explode?

Your scent was all over him, still bewitching him, overpowering his sweat and the smell of everybody around him.

Looking down at his hands, the gloved palms that had hours before gripped and traced as much of your body as your suit had allowed him to, Damian clenched his jaw.

How could he have been so stupid? There was no other reason for you to beg him to fuck you the way you had — magic! He fucking hated magic.

But Dick’s explanation... that was worse. More stupid. He hated it too. His brother had to be wrong.

It wouldn’t be the first time someone from his family was wrong regarding magic, and Zatanna while an expert had her own biases.

Besides, his heart could have been desiring to get off the most just like yours. The two of you were busy people after all.

“Did the spell show you anything, Dami?”

The prettiest face he had seen in his entire life. “A pet demon.”

He regretted the lie the moment he said it. Damian wished a lot of things could be different. His mother would be furious if she knew how sentimental he was becoming, if she found out how often he gave into wishful thinking.

For once, he wanted to be open. But as always something was stopping him. Sometimes he wondered if he had been born to be like that or if his grandfather had simply lied.

Leaving the cave the moment he was dismissed, he trotted upstairs almost praying Dick wouldn’t follow him.

He couldn’t stop replaying the way you clung to him, or the harshness of your kiss. It had felt real, and too perfect to be happening to him all at once.

But you hated him, everybody and their mother knew that.

════════════════════════

Barbara had never been subtle around you. There had never been a need for such a thing — she was like the older sister you never had, you two carried the other’s secrets and burdens.

Back when you met her, barely as a teen, she provided a safe place you only had ever dreamt of having. You vowed to give it all back; she deserved it.

“What’s up with the turtleneck?” She asked, unsubtly so with her bright eyes on your neck.

“I have a cold,” you feigned a rasp. Perhaps this secret wouldn’t be shared.

“Mmmh. Really?” She poured herself a cup of coffee. “Dick said Damian was feeling under the weather too.”

Yup. Definitely not sharing. It would be embarrassing. She had always had the theory that you were in love with Damian just because you complained about him on a weekly basis.

It was like she had never met him.

In a way, the theory was correct. But it lacked a lot of details — a spell had confirmed it from all things. It sounded ironic, quite suitable to your situation.

“Flu season, I guess.”

It was a bad lie. Everybody knew when flu season arrived because Tim started getting a stuffy nose and limiting his consumption of Red Bull in order to drink more water.

”Did the spell from the other night show you anything?”

You faked a cough, shaking your head. “I was busy on patrol.”

“I was too and I saw Dick.”

“That’s just wishful thinking, Babs. It’s cute, though.”

Her not seeing Dick would have surprised you. They had known each other for years, gone through so much together... most people wanted what they had.

“Is there a particular reason why you’re lying to me?”

You wrapped your fingers around your mug. The heat transferring from the ceramic to your palm reminded you of Damian’s breath on your lips.

Taking a gulp of coffee, you blinked rapidly. “You don’t think it’s cute?”

She rolled her eyes. “Everybody saw something. It’s how those spells work.”

“There must be something wrong with me.”

There really had to be something awfully wrong with you. Saying out loud that you wanted Damian more than anything in the world terrified you.

It was a normal thing. Not wanting him specifically, but wanting someone — everybody craved attention and love at some level, you just happened to crave Damian’s at every single one.

He was the problem, not you.

════════════════════════

Movie marathons weren’t something Damian really cared for, but they were better than hearing his father complain about minor things like if he had ruined a goon’s lungs or whatever.

Alfred called it bonding time which he supposed was a fair assessment. He found Tim’s taste in movies quite good, and now he didn’t get the urge to strangle his slightly older brother in his sleep.

His stepmother was there too. Selina had been the reason why Bruce shifted his ways, she urged him to either find a balance or stop adding people to the team.

Duke made him pass a bowl of popcorn to Tim who did the same to Stephanie. The bowl landed on Dick who was on the row behind them, just next to Jason.

Getting more comfortable on his seat, his eyes fell on the empty spot to Duke’s right. Cassandra used to sit there until one afternoon Duke couldn’t seem to shut up and she asked you to switch places. You always went with the things Duke said, sometimes even asked his opinion.

Damian complained once, telling his sister to suck it up next time. But Cassandra would never do something he told her to, that was perhaps why she was his favorite.

Everyone around him was in an amazing mood which he didn’t understand. Bruce had just tried to tell a joke, and Jason was mocking how dumb it was.

Selina laughed loudly, in that way people did when they felt genuinely happy. At least that was what he supposed; Damian wasn’t sure he had ever experienced happiness.

The sound of an approaching wheelchair made his ears perk up. Not a single pair of shoes could be heard against the floor. Fighting a frown, he turned to look at the door.

Barbara waved at all of them with a smile, maneuvering her wheelchair to sit next to Dick’s seat. Craning his neck with the excuse of saying hi, Damian watched her give Dick a chaste kiss.

“Where’s (Nickname)?” Dick asked, lifting his arm to rest it on the back of Barbara’s chair.

“She said she was feeling sick. Although...” Barbara giggled, leaning onto Dick’s arm. “I heard the voice of a guy in the background so she might have company.”

Damian felt sick upon hearing such a thing. First, you had asked to be paired up with Duke for patrol and now this? It was too much even for your pettiness — granted, he had planned on putting more distance between you two, but he hadn’t gone around trying to find someone to erase you.

The thought never crossed him, not for a single moment. He had wondered why he wished to cling to a memory when he had never been the sentimental type, but he realized that to be the entire point of deep desires.

“Well, it’s time,” Stephanie commented, “she’s been single for too long.”

“Let’s hope we don’t have to scare him off,” Selina added.

Damian stood up from the now uncomfortable seat, forcing Duke to do the same so he could leave. Duke stared at him weirdly, with worry, as if he knew something Damian didn’t want him to.

He probably did. Damian had been careless two times in a row. God, he needed to get a fucking grip. Unconsciously, he fiddled with the neck of his sweater.

“Oi,” Jason called for him, “where are you going?”

“Out,” he answered angrily. “If other... members... may skip this, why can’t I?”

Barbara and Dick shared a sideways glance.

Only telling Alfred that he would be back later, Damian followed the path towards the garage. Skipping his bike for once, finding himself thinking he wanted to take as little shortcuts as possible for whatever reason, he took his car.

Damian had always been a fan of driving. He didn’t know why, it was tedious and didn’t serve many purposes in the grand scheme of things; not to him. Ever since he learned, he took every opportunity he got to drive whichever vehicle he could get his hands on.

Having control over vehicles and machines was nice, he supposed. If people were a little bit more like said things, everything would have been easier. The world would be boring, but easier to habit.

Saving people was easy, caring about them from afar gave him enough human interaction for his standards, but he would never understand them.

And for the first time since he tried to decode his mother’s attitude, he wanted to understand someone more than anything. Perhaps that way said someone would understand him back and untangle this mess.

The building before him wasn’t welcoming. He had never put foot into that place, but he knew every single person that lived there — patrol gave him that kind of knowledge. And he did some research months ago, but no one needed to be aware of such thing.

He pressed his ear to the door he had been looking for. The dishwasher was on, but he couldn’t pick up any other sound. Damian knocked on said door three times, quickly and loudly. There was no answer so he did it again. A door slammed shut inside the apartment, a groan accompanied by a string of curses got clearer as stomps approached him.

Standing tall and straight, he felt a thrill down his spine as the lock was loudly fiddled with.

You swung the door open, rubbing your eye. He observed you had thrown a turtleneck on, upside down. Damian walked past you without invitation, analyzing the living room.

There were no clothes scattered all over the floor like he had imagined he would find.

“What are you doing here?”

He ignored you, exploring the kitchen. Damian opened the fridge, narrowing his eyes as he inspected. He did the same with the cupboards.

Shoving your bedroom door open, he found the bed undone. The TV was on, playing an old movie. He heard your steps as you followed him, repeating your question.

“Is someone from the team in danger?” You asked next.

Damian pulled your closet open, tilting his head. You could’ve been more organized, he admitted to himself, but there was nothing unusual.

Craning his neck to look at you, he inquired, “Where is he?”

“Where’s who?! What’s going on?”

He stared at you, waiting for you to crack. To his surprise, you stared back — defiant, blinking less and less as the seconds passed.

You were mad, he could tell. It only made him grow more suspicious. Tensing under your eyes, sharp instead of soft like they usually were, he scoffed; he couldn’t show he cared.

“Dude,” you insisted, “you are scaring me. What happened?”

Shaking his head, he pushed past you again and continued his search. The bathroom was warm, the mirror fogged up and tiles sprinkled with drops of water.

He turned around, watching you again. Well, your hair was wet now that he paid more attention to it...

Damian checked in the small laundry room too, but he found bottles of detergent and folded towels next to your suit. Nothing else. No one else.

“Damian—“

“Shut up.” He pointed at you with a finger.

“You are the one who came to my place to look for whatever or whoever you are searching for! Unprompted!”

He didn’t answer.

You went back to your bedroom to turn the TV off and pause the movie, resigned to the fact that he had ruined your self-care day.

No one knew you would be home that day. You had ignored everybody’s calls and avoided being active on social media just in case they were stalking you. Turns out the utmost secrecy isn’t enough to avoid Damian Wayne.

He stood in the living room, looking down at the coffee table as if expecting the furniture to turn into something else. Fixing his eyes on the centerpiece he knew Dick had given you as a gift because it reminded him of you, Damian furrowed his brows.

“Have you been alone the entire day?” He asked, feeling your presence behind him.

“My neighbor brought some cake. Other than that, yeah.”

“Barbara said you had... company.”

“I haven’t talked to Babs in days.”

Barbara had continued asking about what you saw that night with the spell, and you weren’t willing to say it still. Weeks had passed, but it felt like mere seconds had at times. It was so easy for her to ask, to assume things.

Only you knew the conflict you were feeling. She would never understand how awful it was to find out the one you desire the most is the one who likes you the least.

You had entertained the naive idea that he was in the same position, but the more you replayed what had happened, the more you convinced yourself it had been one-sided. He gave in because the release was pleasant, nothing else. People say things they don’t mean while having sex.

You had done it before, for fuck’s sake. You had faked having a good time before, who was to say Damian hadn’t done the same with you?

“Have you seen anybody else?” He blurted.

“My neighbor, I told you.”

He reformulated, “Have you had sex with anybody else?”

You considered lying, you really did. It would make the tension go away, you would have to see him around with other people but it would save you from a lot of embarrassment.

A part of you told you it was stupid, that you wouldn’t be able to take it. Much less when the people who usually took some interest in you tended to ghost you for whatever reason.

“Not since that night, if that’s what you’re asking,” you admitted.

“Good.” It slipped, but he didn’t care. He meant it, and it felt nice to say things he meant, no matter how harsh they could sound.

You rounded the room, crossing your arms as you stood in front of him. “Why are you here?”

“I was told you had company,” he repeated himself.

“And your logic was to interrupt me?”

“Yes.”

You couldn’t believe him. Did he want you to be alone and miserable your entire life?

The worst part was that you would probably be. Finding out you liked him, that you wanted to have him around, that you craved his attention, and his touch, rocked your world and shattered it.

Who would ever compare to him? His flaws were other people’s better qualities, even you who didn’t know his good side that well was aware of that.

“Do you really hate me that much? I’ve never done anything to you!”

He finally lifted his head. You wished he hadn’t, you wished you didn’t have to see anything other than anger in his handsome features. “I don’t hate you. I would make your life a living hell if I did.”

“You could’ve fooled me,” you chuckled, way more sadly than you thought yourself capable to feel regarding anything that came from him. “You roll your eyes at me every time I visit your house, Damian.”

“It’s not intended at you.”

“The scoffs sure are,” you reproached him, “and your stupid comments of how unfunny anything that makes me laugh is.”

“It’s not because of you,” he shouted. Shaking his head, vexed, he twisted his mouth as he huffed his anger out through his nose. “Cassandra’s jokes aren’t even that funny.”

“See?”

“Why don’t you laugh at mine?” He reproached now, crossing his arms to mimic your stance. “Why is it always one of my siblings or my friends who get a positive response but not me?”

“Oh, come on! You’re saying that like I didn’t come by hearing you say my name a few weeks ago!” Your words stunned him into silence which you used to your advantage. “You never tell jokes in front of me, how am I supposed to laugh at them? I always feel like shit because you only accept being around me on patrol, you entrench yourself in your room and make a point to slam the door shut just so I hear... you know what? Forget it.”

“I hate seeing you with them,” he said, wishing his words hadn’t carried that much emotion. “I always bribe people to not ask you out or to leave you alone, I have to watch you hug Jon and kiss my siblings’ faces. You’re always so damn nice until I appear... I prefer being alone than enduring your indifference.”

You widened your eyes. “You bribe people to not ask me out?!”

“Is that the only upsetting part from everything I said?” he snapped.

“No, no. Of course not. I just...”

He hummed. “It’s stupid, I know.”

“A waste of money, honestly.”

“If I didn’t, you would be with someone else right now. Probably Duke, you’ve always liked him.”

“You bribed Duke?” You let a small laugh out. “Duke? Our Duke?”

“Yes! Stop mocking me.”

“Duke knows everything, you know?” You admitted, uncrossing your arms.

You hadn’t been able to keep things to yourself for that long. Seeing Damian around suddenly hurt. The feeling had always been there, but finding out that he was your heart’s deepest desire wrecked your perception

When you told Duke, he reacted casually, as if you had told him the most obvious thing in the world. He said you and Damian were the only ones who hadn’t seen it.

“He knew certain things before I did, in fact,” you added. “Besides, I see him as a brother and he sees me as a sister.”

Damian nodded. It made sense, now Duke’s attitude seemed normal in comparison to what Damian had assumed.

He always assumed things. Bruce had told him once that he needed to learn to ask before acting out — this was the first time Damian found his father’s words useful.

“Why did you kiss me that night?”

“I believe it was more than kissing.”

“Yes.” Damian hadn’t been able to forget, he never would. “But why?”

“I felt... I don’t know how to explain it,” you confessed.

The room suddenly felt small, extremely hot. You shed the stupid turtleneck, it wasn’t like he hadn’t done the stubborn marks on your neck.

Make-up had hidden them well for a few days, and most of them had faded already, but there were two bite-marks, too big and deep, that needed more healing time.

“I was scared,” you told him, “that’s why I felt the rush to take your hand. And it was enough for a while, but then it wasn’t, I wanted you closer.”

“I couldn’t breathe. I assumed I was being poisoned. Then you took my hand and I panicked for a moment, I thought...” his voice broke.

You gave him time, trying your hardest to hide how surprised you were by hearing him like that.

“I thought you were having the same symptoms,” he rasped. “I’ve been trained to fight those things off, but you haven’t and I knew you would die. Your hand made it better for a few minutes, then I needed you closer too.”

“We can forget about it if you want,” you assured him, avoiding looking at his face in case your comment relieved him.

“I don’t.”

Damian reached for your hand in the same fashion you had that cursed —literally— night, shakily, urgently.

And in the same fashion he had, you allowed him to take it.

He brought you closer to him. You observed he looked more tired than ever, perhaps because things had been tense for the past weeks. You couldn’t have possibly looked too different.

“The spell doesn’t have to dictate this,” he said, tilting his head to look into your eyes. “It won’t. You know I don’t trust magic.”

“The spell is not the problem,” you whispered.

“I didn’t think there was a problem.”

“We have never spent time together outside of patrol, Damian.”

He sighed, nodding. “Get changed. Let’s go out.”

Only a lunatic would give their self-care day up for a guy. Well, you didn’t really care if people thought you were a lunatic, and Damian wasn’t just a guy — still, giving up the ice cream in your fridge was a sin.

A sin you were happy to commit.

Damian waited for you to get changed, patiently if anyone asked you. It had taken you a few minutes to even choose something appropriate, based on his own outfit because that was just logic.

He slipped his cellphone into his pocket while you locked the door. As you turned around to take off, he offered his hand.

You took it, intertwining your fingers with his as you walked down the hallway. In the middle of the stairway, you bumped into one of your neighbors who smiled sweetly at both of you. To your surprise, Damian smiled back.

Also surprised to discover he hadn’t taken his bike, you bowed as a thank you when he opened the door of his car for you.

“Do you want to put some music on?” he offered.

“You pick,” you said, curious as to what he would play.

You could’ve sworn he was nervous as he stared down at his phone, looking for something to play. He scrolled down, then up — he switched apps, then continued scrolling.

“I’m not picky.” Your tone was soft, an attempt to assure him.

“I don’t really listen to a variety of genres.”

“What do you listen to the most?”

“Classical. My mother got me used to it.”

You rested the side of your head on the backrest of the seat, looking at him. “You can play that if you want. Or we can just talk about the weather and whatnot. I think it might rain tonight. You like rain, right?”

He locked his cellphone, turning to face you. “Yes. It calms me.”

“I hated it as a kid,” you disclosed, hoping it would ease the tension and better his mood. “I was scared of thunderstorms.”

Igniting the engine, he prompted you to continue, “Not anymore?”

“No. My mom used to tell me that the only reason why they were so noisy was that the sky was happy to unwind and eventually I believed it.”

“That’s cute.”

“I had a phase in which I was in a bad mood if it didn’t rain.” You laughed at your own comment. “Now I like it just fine, less obsessively.”

“I had a similar fixation with snow.” He laughed too, and your stomach did somersaults — it was the first time you had heard him laugh genuinely.

Damian didn’t talk about life at The League often, he didn’t feel compelled when he knew the preconceptions that came with simply mentioning the place or his maternal family.

In fact, everything Batman Inc.’s members knew had been from Bruce. He liked the secrecy, those were parts of him and no one else. But he was willing to share tiny pieces with you.

He saw it as something supposed to be shared between two people interested in starting a relationship.

So he continued, “I would only climb mountains if they were covered by snow. My mother called me a brat many times, but she gave into my wishes for a while.”

“How did you grow out of it?”

“I broke my elbow.” He briefly looked to the side and then took a turn. “I proved her right, and I didn’t like not having the last word so I started despising the snow. I don’t mind it now.”

Before you could ask anything else, he pulled into the grocery store’s parking lot.

He picked a basket once inside the store, making a motion for you to follow him.

“What are we buying?”

“Fruit and whatever you want for a picnic.”

Realizing you weren’t near the fruits aisle, you gripped his sweater, steering him to the other side. Of course he wasn’t used to doing groceries.

He silently allowed you to guide him which was a win, Damian hated being told what to do no matter how small the suggestion was.

It didn’t take either of you too long to get everything you needed, but he spent ten minutes choosing a blanket as if he wouldn’t ruin the poor thing with mud and insects.

Passing the clothing area on your way to do checkout, you elbowed him on the side. He stared down at you, then followed your eyes as he realized they were fixed on something.

Damian groaned. “You’re so funny.”

“Oh, come on! You’re telling me you wouldn’t buy Batman underwear?”

“No.”

“You’re lying.”

“I am not.”

You narrowed your eyes, keeping your laugh in when you saw what resembled a pout on his face. “Robin’s?” you tried.

“Perhaps.”

You lost it at that. “Are they comfy?”

“Will you stop laughing if I say yes?”

“Only if it’s the truth.”

He just nodded, then did the gesture upward so you would resume the path towards the exit.

Pleased with his answer, you walked towards the checkout line. Damian stood behind you, breathing your scent in.

“Is that a new perfume?”

You craned your neck. “How did you know?”

Shrugging, hoping he was being nonchalant enough, he said, “I have a good nose.”

After a brief fight over who would pay for the groceries, —which he won by saying it had been his idea—, you left the store in direction of the park.

Your hand found his naturally, as if your palm’s place was to be pressed against his bigger one.

It felt good, but not really because of that bullshit —true, but bullshit still when magic was so unpredictable— of him being what your heart desired the most. The truth was that you could feel in his grip how much he wanted this to go well.

Swinging your clasped hands, you walked around the park, looking for the perfect spot to sit at.

You found a spot away from the kids running around, against a tree. Damian laid the blanket on the grass, placing the paper bags onto it next.

He slid an arm around your shoulders, using his other hand to eat.

“Do you think your family is already spying on us?” you asked gazing at him as you leaned onto his arm.

“I am certain.”

“You don’t mind?”

He lightly smiled at you, reaching for a strawberry. “Not at all. Do you?”

“Nah. I’m not looking forward to Barbara’s teasing, though.”

“Why did she tell us you had a guy over?” He bit down into the fruit.

“She has always said I have feelings for you.” You wiped the corner of his mouth with your thumb. It never occurred to either of you that you would need napkins. “And I guess she put two and two together when we covered our necks and used the same excuse.”

“In my defense, I could have blamed Tim.”

“In my defense,” you copied his smart-ass tone, “I didn’t want to talk about it.”

“You told Duke from all people.”

“Duke was supportive.”

Damian hummed sarcastically. “I’m sure everybody knows the details already. He loves to gossip.”

Seeing you frown before you turned to look to the other side, he reached for your farthest cheek, softly pushing your face so you would stare at him.

“I don’t care if they know.”

You wished you could have believed him. “If you didn’t, you wouldn’t have avoided me the same way I avoided you.”

“I cared,” he clarified, “not anymore.”

“What changed?”

“Me, my priorities… my vision of you, of this.”

You took an apple in your hand. Rolling the fruit in your grasp, you only nodded. Saying something else would have been nice, appropriate even, but words escaped you.

The fact that he didn’t hate you was still pretty new, shocking to some extent. His willingness to be seen with you by family and strangers alike was a huge compliment, and a big deal.

It was too serious so suddenly… you liked it no matter how scary it was. There had to be a reason why he felt so sure about this, and trusting Damian had never been a bad idea.

Except from that time when you ended up with stitches all over your arm, but you could let that go if it meant having him by your side. As corny as it sounded.

“Meetings will be weird, won’t they?” You sunk your teeth into the apple, hearing him chuckle.

“Less awkward, I hope. Although I enjoy vexing my siblings.”

“We can have fake fights in front of them if you want.”

“And blame them for our nonexistent problems?”

“Of course, I’m sure they will try to give their input either way.”

Damian groaned. He feared just that. It would be out of a place of care, he knew, but it didn’t make it less intrusive — he could picture Dick, sitting down in front of him in the cave, with a big smile and dangling his finger as he told him the way he was supposed to treat you.

He liked to imagine that Cassandra would only threaten him. Perhaps Stephanie would do the same and stop Tim from patronizing him.

Not wanting to ruin the moment by thinking what would Jason and Duke do, he shifted and changed the subject to the movie you had been watching earlier.

You explained that it had been one of your favorites and told him the plot between bites, amused by the fact that he was trying to look interested even though you knew it wasn’t his type of movie.

He told you about the movies the team was supposed to watch that day. You didn’t feel guilty for skipping; as much as you loved them, you needed time for yourself.

Spending time with Damian on this occasion counted as time for yourself, although you would make yourself clear to him that you would eventually need alone time for real. It was a mere exception.

The two of you walked around the park for a while, talking about random things. He was surprisingly easy to talk to once you tried, and God did you try.

It couldn’t get better than hearing him speak casually, about the architecture nearby and the types of flora around the park, in a light tone and with his hand in yours.

Your fingers played with his, and once again you found yourself in awe of him, of how comfortable he was with the mindless gesture and his willingness to keep up with it. You doubted someone would ever surprise you as much as Damian did.

Slowing down a little bit to take the scenery in, you naturally tightened the grip of your fingers on his.

It was such a nice day to be outside… perhaps the weather cast had been wrong and it wouldn’t rain.

The city was bathed in a pink glow as the sun set, unrecognizable. No one would have guessed such scenery to take place in a deeply violent and corrupted place, not even the most optimistic person in the world.

You remembered clearly how surprised Jon had been the first time he saw something other than thundering rain and gray skies in Gotham.

Glittering under the sunlight, the flowers at the end of the playground looked alive for once as the sky stunned many around you. And when you turned to look at Damian, curious about his reaction, you found his eyes solely on you.

The trees, so green under the light of dusk, had nothing on Damian’s eyes. Such thought, so familiar that you felt as though it wasn’t the first time it crossed your mind, so natural that you found it a fact and not an opinion, made you forget about everything around you.

He continued gazing at you, finding the curiosity in your beautiful eyes flattering. Oh, how much he enjoyed being the object of your attention.

The scenery behind you was gorgeous, he was certain of it. In his opinion, you complimented the view in ways nothing would ever do — there was something in your peaceful semblance as you tore your gaze off the sky and admired him instead.

You could’ve been sharing a silent moment with the strangers around you, one of those things he had heard you say once made the world make sense, yet your eyes were on him, on his face. And it made him feel important like nothing before had.

His father’s praises, the ones he had sought for so long were nothing in comparison. Dick’s patience although fundamental to his development as a man fell short against the way your eyes were shining for him.

Twilight swirled around you, but his eyes never left your face nor yours did his. The world didn’t exist, and if it existed, then it didn’t matter — not when you found him worth all your attention, not when he thought you to be brighter than the sun itself.

The air in the car as he drove you back to your place was thick and tense. He hadn’t said a word since he told you about that time Bruce inaugurated the school across the park.

Damian looked lost in thought, like often you had seen him while out on patrol. The places his mind took him had never compromised his performance — you admired that.

Bruce had called him out an infinite amount of times, but he couldn’t do anything else when Damian always delivered. You had wondered how he did it many times, but now you had to assume Talia taught him.

He walked you into the building, fingers brushing your wrist as you fell in natural silence.

Fumbling for your keys, you felt him lean onto the wall just next to your door. You took more time than needed to open the door, hoping he would say or do something.

When he didn’t, you pushed the door open and turned on your heel to face him.

“I had an amazing day with you,” he said, eyes on yours.

You breathed out, “I did too.”

Why couldn’t the day last longer? You logically knew you would see him again, but something inside you wanted him to stay. You wanted him to stay, better said.

Would it be too bold, too sudden, to invite him in? He probably had patrol that night — hell, you were supposed to be getting into your suit at that moment instead of pondering on whether you were brave enough to imply you wanted to spend more time with him; preferably in your room, naked.

Fuck it. If he said no, you would say you had patrol either way.

“Do you want to co—“

“Yes,” he answered before you could finish the question, letting a relieved sigh out.

You pulled him into the apartment, arm around his neck as you used your other hand to close the door.

His lips fell on yours as he kissed you slowly, arms delicately around your plump form. He took his time to map your lips with his own, somewhat afraid of kissing you wrong.

Damian grew confident as you attempted to kiss him more firmly, as steadily as your giddiness allowed you to. Tasting the fruit he had eaten earlier off his tongue, you wrapped your other arm around his torso, bringing him closer.

Smiling on your lips, he angled his face, kissing you with the same urgency he had the other night.

Eagerly, he tangled his tongue with yours until both of you were panting in search of air. As you caught your breath, Damian fiddled with the ends of your turtleneck.

Clearing his throat, he asked, “Can I take this off? It’s getting in the way.”

“I can take it off—“

“I would like to do it, if you don’t mind.”

“I don’t,” you assured him.

Damian slid the turtleneck off you slowly, huffing a small laugh when the blouse you were wearing under inched up. Placing the item to the side, he leaned to kiss your jaw.

Placing your hands on his sides, you slanted your head upon feeling his lips travel down to your neck.

He kissed the bite-mark left from before, softly, giving it small pecks. “Did I go overboard with this one?”

“A little bit. It’s been a pain in the ass to cover.”

“I’ll be more careful from now on,” he promised, leaving more light kisses over the area.

Your pulse quickened at the implication of his words. Damian felt the rush of blood on your jugular where he scattered wet kisses.

He trailed his lips up, breathing in your ear. You shuddered, fighting a whine as your hands looked for the hem of his crewneck sweater.

You inched the sweater up to his chest and waited for him to stand straight so you would be able to take it off. Damian was too busy kissing your face to care.

“Hey,” you did whine this time. “Damian, let me take it off.”

Smirking on your cheek, he hummed. Slowly, painfully so, he pulled away from you.

Once you had gotten rid of the sweater, you grabbed him by the collar of his shirt and pulled him into a kiss. He curled his arm around you again, wanting you flush against him.

He slid his hand down and took a handful of your ass, making you buckle your hips up. Dragging his lips to your jaw again, he said, “Your stupid suit didn’t let me do that last time.”

One of your hands stayed on his shoulder while the other landed on his hip. Your fingers played with the loops of his jeans as he continued gripping and grabbing your ass like he had never touched one.

Angling your face, you attached your lips to his neck. Damian’s grip on you tightened.

“I want to take it slow,” he whispered, “but you’re making it really hard.”

“Metaphorically?” You mouthed his throat, hand sliding down to his chest, squeezing itself between both your bodies.

“And literally,” he whined. You loved the sound, for once not demanding yet still bratty.

As your hand slipped downward, you continued kissing his neck, paying special attention to the juncture of his neck and shoulder. You hoped your lipstick wouldn’t dirty his shirt — or maybe you hoped it would, both were fine with you.

Damian put some space between you, understanding what you were trying to do. While you undid his jeans, he undid yours, considering it would be better to get rid of everything on his way now that he was still feeling patient.

Shoes and socks off, the two of you shed your jeans without care of where they landed. Now the living room’s floor truly was covered in scattered items of clothing and this time Damian enjoyed the view.

“Come here.” He reached for you, eyes on your chest as his hands ghosted your sides.

You looked up at him, unable to hide the enjoyment you got from his hungry eyes being all over you. Following their movements, you also observed their slow dilatation.

He inched a hand up your side. You assumed he would finally knead your breast but he merely ghosted its outline, head tilted as he watched his own hand move.

For a few moments, he only did that, almost as if he was in a trance. The warmth of your own palm on his lower abdomen as your fingers brushed the elastic of his boxers made him react.

You pushed him back, towards your bedroom, pulling the door open and shoving him inside. He smiled, lifting his arms in mock surrender.

Damian sat down on your bed, relishing into the smell of everything you owned — the bedding smelled like a mix of fabric softener and your delicious new heady perfume.

You got the urge to kiss his entire face, hands on his shoulders as he slanted his head back for you to do it comfortably. He relished on the gesture too, so spontaneous and warming.

He placed his hands on the backs of your thighs, urging you to straddle him. Watching you second guess yourself, he drew you closer to encourage you.

Giving a last kiss to his nose, you complied. Damian snaked his arms around your waist, a pleased smile pressing against your chin before he kissed your mouth.

You bit his lip, tugging on it. He crashed his lips against yours again just to then do the same himself, intentionally bitting harder than you had.

A moan escaped you. Feeling his cock twitch under your navel, you rocked your hips to watch his reaction.

His arms tightened around you as he tutted against your core. “This is the reason why I never train with you,” he groaned.

“I thought it was because I almost broke Tim’s leg once.”

“Don’t mention anyone else right now.”

Right. You had forgotten he had been jealous earlier.

Damian rolled over, switching places with you. He kissed you before you could pout, cradling your face with one hand while he held himself up with the other.

You placed a hand on his upper back while the other rested on the side of his neck, kissing him back with the same amount of passion he was kissing you.

He had you breathless in a matter of seconds, and as he broke the kiss, you saw his nostrils flare in attempts to catch his breath quickly.

Trailing kisses down your neck, he dropped his hand to your breast. This time he kneaded it, humming against your skin when you reacted with a small sound. His thumb brushed your nipple, playing with it while he busied himself with leaving marks on your chest.

So much for being careful, huh. At least those were easier to hide.

“Do you want me to eat you out?” He asked bluntly.

“If you’re in the mood.”

He kneeled on the bed, hooking his thumbs in your panties to slide them down. You lifted your hips to help him out, laughing when he threw your underwear behind him with little care.

You opened your legs for him, finding a comfortable position as he stayed there, taking all of you in, completely naked and at his mercy.

He kissed your thighs first, teasingly nibbling on them. Every time he got closer to the center, to where now you needed him instead of only wanting him, he pulled away and went back to your thigh.

Slowly, he dragged his index finger up and down your folds. Damian rested his chin on your right thigh as he watched his finger collect and smear your wetness, proud of the fact that he was the one who had made you wet. No one else.

Your breath hitched in expectant excitement as you saw him finally bury his head between your thighs. His tongue followed the same path his finger had outlined, at the same rhythm.

“You taste even better than I imagined,” he praised, licking his bottom lip clean.

As he gradually increased his rhythm, licking long stripes along your folds, you got bolder and urged him to be firmer by pushing your hips upward.

He moaned against your pussy, playfully sucking your labia to let you know he got the message.

Bringing an arm up to pin your hips back down, he used his other hand to open your legs a little bit more and part your labia.

Damian pressed his tongue on your clit, moving it gently at first. He wanted to know exactly what you liked and how. It didn’t take him long to switch between using his lips and his tongue which earned him a loud moan.

His hand caressed your thigh, eventually sliding between the mattress and your body to grab your asscheek.

You whined his name, reaching down to hold the back of his head. It was clear to you that he was enjoying every sound he managed to make you blurt, and it felt really good, but you needed more.

Out of nowhere, he tugged on your hips to slide you down the bed. Kneeling on the floor, he sucked fervently on your clit.

You fisted the duvet, begging him to keep going. Damian complied happily, mouth latched on your clit as your pussy swallowed his moans and the four walls of your bedroom made yours bounce.

They were music to his ears and his entire body. He could feel the tingling all over him, excitement and pride flowing through his bloodstream.

Massaging your ass, he couldn’t help but chuckle upon feeling both your hands on his head now. He allowed you to push his face farther in, not once slowing down.

Your hips bucked up and instead of restraining you, he moved with you. If you moved up he did down and vice versa. You got louder and he marveled at how responsive you were to him.

He growled, gripping your ass with force as he sucked on your clit until his cheeks were hollow. He let go only to repeat the motion, letting his tongue wander when he needed a break.

You tugged on his hair, squealing. Your body tensed in his grasp, prompting him to continue with his ministrations. Feeling the tremor in your legs as you tried to settle back down on the bed, he started lapping tenderly.

You caressed his hair, panting with your eyes closed. Damian lifted his head, hands softly dancing over your thighs as he stood up.

Feeling him hover over you, you opened your eyes albeit with a little difficulty. His mouth and chin glistened with your slick, wanton eyes inspecting your semblance.

“Do you want me to suck you off?” you rasped before clearing your throat.

He caressed your sweaty cheek. “Later.”

“Bu—“

He shut you up with a kiss. “Later, please? I just want to be inside you.”

Nodding against him, you kissed him again. Tasting yourself off his tongue was addictive. You held him still for a moment, licking your slick off his gorgeous face.

Damian growled, deep and loud this time, hands already on your waist. “Should I wear a condom this time?”

“No. Unless you want to?”

He shook his head. He didn’t want a single thing to keep him from feeling you fully. Damian stood from the bed. “Get on all fours.”

You rolled on your side first to then do as he had told you, holding your breath as you waited for him to stand behind you.

He rested a hand on your hip. “Ready?”

“Yeah,” you gave him your consent.

Damian entered you slowly, little by little, less worried about hurting you and more about making you feel every inch of him as his cock filled you.

You breathed out through a whine. He gave you time to adjust to his size, leaning to kiss the scar on your back.

Wanting to stay like that forever, you waited more than you should have to. If he was aware, he decided to be patient — such thing only made you grow wetter.

“Go ahead,” you told him, hoping you didn’t sound too desperate.

Reaching over, he gripped your hands. “You feel amazing, beloved.” He kissed your shoulder, nibbling on your skin as he rocked his hips.

God, you didn’t know if his comment had been what flattered you or the pet name. Either way, hearing them was as amazing as the way he felt inside you, filling you like no one before him had.

His hands left yours. He opted for placing them firmly on your hips and thrust into you steadily, keeping you from moving too much.

Humming in pleasure, you held the edge of the bed in anticipation. He went faster exponentially, calculating every single one of his thrusts.

Having control over his thrusts and the movement of your hips was nice and all, but he needed you closer.

Slapping your thigh, he croaked out, “On your back.”

You missed his girth the second he parted from you so you could change positions, it made you feel empty.

Damian helped you get comfortable, holding your thighs open before you got the urge to rub them. He smirked when you glared at him, hand leaving one of your legs to hold his cock.

He penetrated you again, bottoming out immediately as he made himself comfortable on top of you.

“Fuck, Damian!”

His hips snapped forward involuntarily. Both of you moaned at the same time, he pushed against your g-spot and you throbbed around him.

His movements were rougher like this, wilder. It was as though he wanted to prove a point to himself, you didn’t know which and you didn’t care as long as he fucked you like he needed to be inside you in order to be complete.

“Say my name again,” he rasped the command.

And how could you deny him? You repeated his name as many times as your moans allowed you like a broken chant.

Damian’s pace got quicker every time he heard his name fall from your lips, a tad uneven as he allowed himself to get lost in the pleasure the mix of everything was bringing him — your walls gripping his cock, your hoarse moans and the angelic way honey dripped from your voice when you called for him.

You dragged your nails all over his back, moaning and whimpering in his ear. He was so loud in your own ear, saying things in Arabic that you couldn’t understand in such a fervent tone that you weren’t sure if you would come because he was fucking you into oblivion or because of his strained voice.

Hearing your name slip in his prayer-like monologue, you cried out upon feeling your stomach get tighter. You clung to his shoulders, letting him ram into you in unsteady thrusts that went from slow to hammering in seconds.

His tongue slipped, Damian started switching between languages. Grip on you tightening to the point of being bruising, he begged, “I need you to come first, please. I— shit.” He dropped his head into the crook of your neck as you wrapped your legs around his hips, clenching around him.

You threw your head back, arching up to meet his latest thrust as your orgasm flew through you. Distantly, you processed a few of the sounds you were making and some of the ones you were elating from him.

Strings of hot cum covered your walls. He growled on your skin, saying your name and something you couldn’t really understand.

You let him ride off his orgasm inside you, hearing the mess he was making as the wet sounds from your slick and his cum mingled. His mouth covered yours in a tired kiss, lazy and with a hint of the tenderness he had put to the side even though his intentions had been different.

Once the two of you had caught your breaths and he had made an even bigger mess, you pulled the bedding off the mattress and threw everything into the washing machine.

He was all over you as the two of you shared a shower, so close that scrubbing off took you way longer than it should have.

In all honesty, you didn’t mind. You were too happy to complain about his annoying little antics that you couldn’t wait to get used to.

”Should we suit up?” You asked him, watching the water drip down his chest like it was the most interesting thing in the world.

“They can manage without us for a night.”

“You want to skip patrol?”

Drying his arms, he copied your tone, “You don’t want to spend more time alone with me?”

“Of course I do,” you replied immediately. “But you love patrol.”

He stood still, somewhat stiff in front of you. “Not enough, it seems.”

You dropped the topic at that and went on with drying your body.

He only put his underwear back on while you slipped a pair of panties and a t-shirt, awkwardly trying to find something to change the topic.

“Do you want some ice cream? I have a tub in the freezer.”

“Sounds good.”

A nice moment you shared, silently eating ice cream. He sat close to you the entire time, brushing your side.

It felt natural, as though you were supposed to be doing that and not anything else. Patrol could wait, and his family, and your friends, and the entire world.

The world stopped so you two could enjoy the moment, the day. Or perhaps it didn’t and you just couldn’t bring yourself to give this up for it — but he couldn’t either and that meant everything to you.

Damian never skipped patrol, he hadn’t done it in the worst moments of his life and you never expected to see the day in which he would find something more worthwhile.

You found a clean sheet for the bed in the laundry room which saved you from having to squeeze yourself with Damian on the couch. Maybe it was time to get a bigger one.

He rested his head on your stomach, cheek against your belly as he looked up at you. You could tell he wanted to say something, his brow was ever so slightly furrowed, and his eyes seemed clouded by a thought. He looked pretty nonetheless.

He traced his fingers over your thigh, drawing little doodles. You could make some up by feel — a flower, a bat, his name, a few stars, his name again, an R inside a circle, a heart, his name for the third time.

“I think I would’ve broken my oath to my father if you had had someone over.”

You slid your hand off his hair to caress his cheek, too worried to hide your frown. Damian took his promises and oaths seriously, more seriously than anything else. You had seen his family use said thing against him.

“It wouldn’t have been worth it,” you tried to reason with him. “It wouldn’t have changed anything.”

“Would you have gotten mad at me?”

“I don’t know,” you admitted. “It would’ve depended on a lot of things. Without context, obviously, but...” Realizing you were about to make up excuses for something that hadn’t even happened, you decided to ask, “Why are you still thinking about that?”

“I don’t want you to forget about me. Ever.”

“Are you planning to say goodbye or something of sorts?”

“No!” He glared at you for even considering such a thing to be a possibility after everything the two of you had talked about, after everything you had made him feel. ”But I...” Damian scoffed. “I can’t explain to you how horrible it felt. My eyesight clouded the moment Stephanie said it was time for you to start seeing someone.”

“Jealousy does that to us.” You tried to sound wise by saying it, an attempt you found quite pointless as you replayed it in your head.

Silently, he lifted his head off your stomach in order to lay down next to you. Shifting so he would be comfortable, you held your head up with your hand to properly gaze at him.

Damian mirrored your position. He told you, in a hushed tone like it was his deepest secret, “I felt like you were replacing me.”

Stephanie only had said that because it was the truth. Your relationships always fizzled out after the first two months so you had stopped trying. Then there was the fact that Damian himself had sabotaged who knows how many of them...

From her perspective, it made sense.

“Damian...” you trailed off, in vain. “I don’t know what to say.”

“Tell me you won’t.”

“I won’t replace you as long as you don’t replace me.”

You thought he would find the comment insulting even though it was perfectly sound. But for God knows which time that day, Damian surprised you by scoffing with nonchalance.

Dismissing your worry, he slid closer to you, resting his forehead against your flexed arm. “I couldn’t possibly be happy without your perfume all over me.”

Grabbing him by the hair, you forced him to lift his head. His eyes found yours in a second, curious. You dropped your hand to his neck, sliding it up to his cheek.

Giving him the sweetest kiss you had ever given, tracing the side of his gorgeous face tenderly, you hoped you were doing a good job expressing what you wanted to communicate.

You were. He gave you in return the brightest smile you had seen in your entire existence. It was all for you, something you had caused, something you wanted to see for the rest of your life.

Damian pulled you onto his chest, laying on his back. He mindlessly ran his fingers over your side and up and down your back while you listened to his steady heartbeat.

You couldn’t possibly feel complete without him ever again.

[myafterlifeisbetterthenyours]

basically a Striker x male imp with powerful regeneration powers, the two knew each other before Striker worked as a noble assassin, y/n by having these powers was almost always in extreme danger situations (like fighting a noble without a head and still somehow win), the two constantly bickered and usually ended up with broken bones. Now these days they meet again after years without seeing each other and with repressed feelings they finally have time to talk... after fighting a little more

Striker x Male Imp with a healing factor.

You and Striker first met each other years ago.

The two of you ran into each other during a job. You both had been hired to kill some petty mob boss.

Striker was seconds away from killing the target, when you jumped through the guy's skylight splatting onto the ground.

Jumping up you effortlessly killed the mob boss and all his bodyguards.

Striker confronted you outside the building, surprised at how good you look after falling through a plate glass windows.

He told you that was good work, if sloppy, but that was his kill. And he just couldn't tolerate theives.

He was surprised by just how nonchalant you were, as though he were telling you something you'd heard a hundred times.

You told him a job is a job, and you wouldn't hold it against him if it were the other way around. And much to Strikers surprise, you turned, and began walking away from him.

Striker, froze, processing what was happening, before he raised his rifle and blew your brains out.

Usually didn't like shooting people in the back, especially a fellow assassin like you. But hey, you practically asked him to do it.

He began to leave, only for you to suddenly jump him from behind, scratching up his shoulders and back, almost managing to cut his throat.

He threw you off, before spinning around and fired three more shots into your chest. That seemed to keep you down this time.

Dragging himself away, he looked back to find you weren't there.

He found himself on edge for weeks after that, never sure If you were gonna go coming looking for pay back.

He only calmed down after running into you at a bar.

And much to his surprise you didn't seem to hold any animosity towards him, in fact, you actually offered to buy him a drink.

Not wanting to offend you, he said yes.

He ended up actually enjoying the night, the two of you having a lively conversation over a few drinks

He couldnt help but ask about the whole, "I shot you in the head, why aren't you dead" thing.

So over a few glasses of whiskey, you explained that you had a serious healing factor, so serious, you were borderline immortal.

Needless to say Striker was amazed and honestly found it kinda hard to believe.

Although what happened next put it all into perspective.

A large demon walked up to you, saying a few words he sunk a large blade into your chest.

Before he could draw his pistol you placed your hand on his shoulder.

Taking a large gulp of your drink, you pulled the blade from your chest and plunged it into the demons stomach. And like nothing had happened, you went back to the conversation.

After that Striker finished his drink, thanking you before he got the fuck out of there.

That was not the last time you and Striker crossed paths. The two of you often ending up taking the same job.

You always having an advantage as you could just recklessly run into a fight, absorbing every attack before killing the target, and walking away unscathed. Where as Striker had to more carefully think his strikes through.

And much to your surprise and joy, you found that through the many jobs you and Striker fought over, you developed something of a frienemy complex.

As annoying as you stealing his jobs was, he couldn't deny, he was having the most fun of his life.

Striker was an extraordinary Imp and it was exceedingly rare he found anyone on his level. So getting to test his skills against you was great.

The two of you were constantly fighting.

Most of the fights were picked by you, usually finding something petty to fight over.

You found the fights good fun, since you weren't really in any danger and Striker always gave his all in a fight.

Your fights got more common, Striker randomly attacking you on the street. The two of you fighting for hours, both refusing to submit.

Bloody knuckles, bruised bodies and broken noses, the two of you were relentless.

And oddly enough, between the brutal smackdowns and all night benders, you found you began enjoying each other's company.

It was an odd dynamic.

The way you could go from brutal fighting, to casually enjoying a meal together, back to a brutal melee.

Though despite your questionable relationship, the teo of you ended up seeing less and less of each other.

Striker began taking much higher risk jobs, often taking on nobility, and as such becoming harder to find.

While you on the other hand, with the pile of cash you made through your killing work you decided to take up several hobbies.

Painting, music, craft, but you would quickly grow bored of them, they were all too easy.

So you decided to travel, taking up any job that caught your fancy.

You tried to let Striker know, you know, for old times sake. But just couldn't get in contact wirh him.

A by-product of being known as a royal killer, you suppose.

You travelled for a few years, traveling the seven rings, taking up various jobs and drastically expanding your resume.

Eventually you'd find yourself in the wrath ring, finding work on a very quaint little ranch.

Usually you'd spend a couple months on the job before moving on to the next one. You'd done this for years, never sticking around for more than six months.

But you found yourself sticking around.

Life on the ranch was good. It was lots of hard work, but you were never bored. And the annual blood moon festival was always something to look forward too.

And over time, you found yourself genuinely enjoying your work. finally finding some sort of purpose in your life, finding yourself being treated like a member of the family. Eventually you worked your way up to foreman.

It wasn't long after a tornado tore through the ranch, you and another worker getting caught up in it.

Only managing to survive because of your healing factor.

You limped back to the ranch, you had to at least act like you were injured. The whole family was overjoyed to see you alive.

But it wasn't long after that a familiar face showed up.

Striker. In all his cowboy glory.

Initially you were overjoyed, tackling the Imp to the ground. Striker effortlessly throwing you off, before he recognised you.

He seemed just as happy to see you, the two of two sharing a hug.

You couldn't explain it, but it felt amazing to hug the Imp. The two of you sharing an long moment together. Staring into each other's eyes.

Apparently he was in town and looking for work.

You didn't buy it for a second, of course. Striker was a cold blooded killer, not some field hand.

But when the boss asked, you still backed his story, telling the boss he was the hardest working guy you knew.

Which wasn't Untrue.

So Striker began working under you, which was great, since he had to do everything you told him to.

But eventually you confronted him about it, telling him you knew he wasn't there for a field hand job.

Striker tried to keep the facade going, but he quickly gave in and told you he was there for a target.

You figured as much, striker telling you he actually planned on taking the position of foreman, as his cover and after hearing that you knew you couldn't let this opportunity go to waste.

So you didn't.

For the first few weeks he was there, you made sure he got all the grunt work, the two of you often getting into fights like the old times.

Though you did take emense pleasure in watching Striker struggle to do basic field work.

But if striker was one thing, it was adaptable.

And soon enough he was working as hard as anyone.

The two of you became close again, alot like last time, but there seemed to be something new between the two of you.

Like a longing that had grown between the two of you, after spending years apart.

Your feeling would grow come to a head after a trip into town.

Striker would use his first pay check to buy a bottle of local brew. Which in wrath, was essentially moonshine. You'd find a hill not to far from the ranch, before popping the bottle.

The two of you would go through the bottle fairly quickly, reminiscing about the good old days.

Both of you getting more and more inebriated as you dug deeper and deeper into your past.

Telling him you had tried to sat goodbye, but couldn't find him. Striker would admit that he had missed you desperately. Hed tell you how it was only his work that kept his mind off of you.

You would lean in close, inches from each other, leaning in, you'd share a much over due kiss.

You weren't sure how Striker would react. You half expected him to knock your lights out.

But instead, Striker pulled you deeper into the kiss, his hands beginning to roam your body.

The kiss would only grow in intensity, the two of you shedding layer after layer of clothing.

You would embrace each other in that field.

You couldn't remember who was on top, and who was bottom, but you woke up the next morning feeling very satisfied.

The next morning was... interesting.

Youd woken up in lots of interesting situations. But hungover, buck naked in the middle of a field besides your long time friend, was a first.

The weird part though, was that It wasn't awkward.

You woke up about the same time. The two of you just laying there, Basking in the early morning sun.

You would just curl up together for a while, quietly discussing what should happen next.

You were shocked when Striker said he wanted to be with you.

Not really sure how to answer, you just kissed him. The two of you ending up having some early morning sex.

So after hundreds of fights, years apart and a pretty severe hangover, you and Striker were finally together.

Thanks for the request y'all. Usually I like don't write for Striker as I just felt there was a bit too much content surrounding him. My headcanon is a little more intimate than the prompt suggested, but none the less, this was still fun to write. Thanks for reading I hope you liked it.

[tinalbion]

Since Freddy and Jason hates eachother so much I think it'll be interesting to be Freddy's s/o and SOMEHOW befriending Jason! They don't know about it at first but one day one of them shows up while you're hanging with the other! What would happen?? Can you write something like that? I mean obviously you can, but do you want to? *looks hopefully*

Oh my, what sort of drama would ensue?! Poor Freddy, poor Jason, just can’t get out of each other’s lives, can they? Thank you for sending this in! I hope you enjoy it!

But seriously, kinda feeling bad that the one person Jason becomes friends with has the ultimate baggage to deal with😅

Freddy x GN!Reader - Befriending Jason

Rating: Freddy picking on Jason, the usual.

Length: 1.2k

Dating a literal dream demon had its advantages for you, but you honestly just loved his company, the only thing was your sleep schedule was so out of whack because of it. You craved to see him when you were asleep, but during those hours that were supposed to be peaceful, you awoke feeling less than well-rested and it had caught up with you in the long run.

Asking Fred to calm down with the long visits was harsher than it should have been in your eyes, but he didn’t seem to mind it too much, especially since he allowed you to take a break for a bit while he had other errands to run (you know, murder and such), and he came back to you to see you back at 100%. You looked happy and the bags under your eyes weren’t so prominent. He took full credit for that, obviously, and so while catching up, you casually mention that you’ve been having fun hanging out with your friends. Normally Freddy asks about your friends, mainly curious about who you hang around, and then you mention you went camping and found someone who was really sweet and rather quiet.

He doesn’t question too far about it because why would he? He’s got nothing to worry about. Until he decided to visit you while you were back in the cabin up north again one weekend. He popped in and strolled around the place as if he owned it, and then Freddy stopped dead in his tracks to see you asleep on the sofa while your ‘new friend’ was none other than Jason Voorhees, sitting on a chair that was facing the window, a blanket draped around his shoulders.

Freddy immediately becomes more irritable and his voice is deeper as he speaks to you, the anger plain in his expressions. “Are you fucking kidding me? Your new friend is THAT idiot goalie fuck?!” Freddy and he go way back, not on good terms either, so it’s understandable as to why you were greeted with hostility.

“I can’t just stop being his friend, Fred.”

“Wrong, you can, simple as that, princess. Now do it before I do it for you.” He wasn’t a man to forgive someone like Jason so easily, and of course, you were caught in the middle of their petty feud. You weren’t usually compliant with a request like this and Freddy had never done anything previously when you ‘disobeyed’ him, so what could he really do now? Either way, you had already settled it in your head that you weren’t just going to drop Jason but before you could voice that, you were jolted awake.

Jason had shaken you, his head tilted to the side as if to question your well-being. You assured Jason that you were fine, you were just having a bad dream, and that’s when Jason began to put two and two together. You didn’t want to bring up Freddy only because you knew it would upset him, but it was silly to keep him a secret. One way or another one of them would see the other and you dreaded that day. But in time, you didn’t want to ruin the friendship you had.

Freddy questioned your intent to hide your guys’ relationship and you bluntly told him you enjoyed Jason’s company when you were camping, so there was no way you were going to be as cruel as he was to him. You needed to approach this delicately and with calm and gentle tones, the complete opposite of what to expect with your headstrong boyfriend.

The day came a lot quicker than you anticipated only because Freddy, being the bastard that he was, decided to make you open up to dear old hockey-puck a lot sooner and he put you on the spot. Jason was distraught, thinking that he was free from seeing the slasher ever again. Why did he have to befriend the ONE person on this planet that was connected to the one guy he wanted to just avoid for as long as he could. Yet now he was faced with a harsh truth.

“Jason, I’d understand if you don’t wanna be friends anymore, I just don’t wanna bring you in the middle of this…” You were kind enough to give him this option, to give him a choice when Freddy really didn’t give him that at all. He couldn’t tell you how he was feeling, but he knew how you were feeling, he was able to read your body language so well from years of experience, but all you could do was sit there with your fists clenched, pissed off at your boyfriend.

The masked slasher placed his hand on your leg to grab your attention then snatched it away, but the look in his eye when you looked up at him spoke more than you thought it ever could. You took a breath and recounted everything in your head, then finally told Jason everything and how childish Freddy had been. Jason didn't act out nor did he grow angry, he just sat there and listened.

"Thanks for listening, Jason, but I'll have to take some time to think about all this…" And he gave you all the time you wanted. You didn't return to the camp for a couple of weeks. Jason had waited for you and lingered around the camp a few days after you initially left, wondering if you'd ever come back. He consulted with the decapitated head of his mother, Pamela, and there was nothing to be said. He had been alone again. Maybe he would put up with that chucklehead if it meant you would be the peacekeeper between them, he just didn't want to be alone anymore.

When you returned to the camp, he had been sitting outside of the cabin just looking off at the wildlife until he noticed you walking up the path. He stood swiftly and waited as you neared the cabin, wanting to greet you, and you definitely looked much happier than you had when you left. When you were close enough, he walked halfway to meet you as you ran into him, hugging him tightly.

"Hey big guy, I've missed you!" You hugged him and you both went inside, talking about your time away and how you missed being surrounded by the forest. But he waited for the inevitable conversation where this would be your last visit. But it never came, something more unexpected had been brought up.

"So uh, I was talking to Fred and… well, he's going to be the bigger guy and won’t interfere with us hanging out! Isn’t that exciting?” You were incredibly happy when Freddy had reluctantly said he wouldn’t pester you (too much) about it, though you would soon learn that he was so full of shit.

He popped in and out of your dreams just to annoy you when you were up at the cabin, he would tease you about everything, he became more relentless. So when you suggested he and Jason should just hang out and maybe it wouldn’t be so bad, Fred laughed hysterically and immediately shut that idea down. You could say you tried. Though your life was complicated with Freddy yelling in your ear, you couldn’t help but still feel lucky enough to have them in your life. Even if one of them was a huge pain in your ass.

[vampireshmampire]

Souls Reunited (Or, It's Not JUST a Horse) ch7/7

Gregor's not the only one who can be reincarnated. A chance encounter at a stable yard reunites Nandor with his beloved John. But John's current owner is petty and spiteful, and they run the risk of being separated yet again.

Guillermo doesn't like horses, but he does like Nandor (in a friend kind of way, not in--well, not really friend-friend, more, you know, master and familiar, caring about, I mean, y'know). It's up to him to make sure that this time, the story has a happy ending.

x

shoutout to @steve-keychain and @violence-as-a-love-language for helping me figure out how to end this, like seriously you guys this entire chapter was done when I posted the last one I just couldn't find a way to end the scene

“Master?” Guillermo calls softly as he slips into Nandor’s room. He raps his knuckles gently on the coffin lid. “It’s time to wake up.” 

“No.” 

“...No?” 

“Go away.” 

“Master–” 

“Leave me alone, Guillermo.” It comes out not as an order, but as a plea, in a voice so thick with misery it makes Guillermo’s heart ache. It’s fine, he tells himself. He’s made it fine. He’s fixed it.

"I have a surprise for you."

“What surprise? I didn’t know anything about a surprise.” 

“That’s what makes it a surprise,” Guillermo says, cheerfully. There is a pause, careful and calculating. Very slowly the lid of the coffin creaks open slightly, and two dark eyes glare out at Guillermo through the crack. 

“What is it?” 

Wordlessly, Guillermo slides the folded documents into the little gap. They are tugged from his hand and the coffin lid thuds closed again. Guillermo waits, listening to the paperwork rustle. 

The rustling stops. There is a soft sound, a short inhale, the catching of breath in lungs that don't need it. Guillermo allows himself a small smile.

The coffin lid swings open. Nandor sits up and stares at Guillermo, the papers held in his hand with such care, as if they might dissolve if he holds on too hard. He’s looking at Guillermo as if he’s never seen anything like him before. 

"I changed his name, too," Guillermo says, helpfully. "Apparently horses need really specific names, so I did the best I could." John the Relentless II hadn't even gotten a raised eyebrow. He supposed it made sense; it wasn't all that stranger than Maple Syrup Sunday.

Still with that dumbfounded expression, Nandor clambers out and leans back against the coffin, flipping through the papers.

“She said that her dad bought the horse for her, so I went to him instead. Nadja hypnotized him and I paid with the bag of coins you had in your dresser. The big one.”

“You buy me presents with my own money? That is not much of a gift, Guillermo.” 

Guillermo’s mouth flattens into a thin line, but when Nandor looks at him, his smile is shaking so hard it barely counts as one. 

“Thank you,” he whispers, his eyes very bright. Suddenly Guillermo finds himself enveloped in a hug. It's just a little too tight, but Guillermo could not possibly care less. Who needs to breathe? He hugs Nandor back, tightly, trying to hold onto everything about this moment. Nandor sniffles, and Guillermo risks giving him a gentle pat on the back.   

He has to force himself to let go as soon as Nandor does, reminding himself that clinginess is not a good look for anyone. 

"Is there enough time to see him tonight?" Nandor asks. "I need to tell him the good news, so that he does not worry. " 

"Absolutely." 

-

Guillermo was expecting Nandor to be vibrating with excitement, the way he usually was when on his way to see John. Instead, he moves as if he’s half asleep, saying nothing in the car and trailing after Guillermo as he leads the way. Guillermo wonders if he thinks this is a dream. 

John lifts his head, ears perking forward when Nandor approaches. The horse watches as Nandor slides open the stall door, snuffling curiously at Nandor’s clothes. Guillermo leans against a nearby post to watch, wondering if he should go, but enthralled yet again by this other side of Nandor.

“I know I said that it was goodbye again,” Nandor murmurs, stroking John’s nose. “But the most wonderful thing has happened. You remember Guillermo? He went to the man who owned you, and he made him sell you. Guillermo bought you for me. You and I will stay together. I will never let anything part us again.”  

Nandor’s voice cracks and he wraps his arms around John’s neck, burying his face in his mane. John hooks his head over Nandor’s shoulder and lets out a long, heavy sigh. It has to be Guillermo’s imagination, but it sounds like one of relief. Maybe Nandor was right. Maybe John did spend seven hundred years of reincarnation trying to find Nandor again. 

Guillermo hurriedly wipes at his eyes and adjusts his glasses, glad Nandor is too focused on the horse to notice. He waits patiently, even as the minutes continue to tick by. He’s in no hurry, and Nandor has earned as much time with John as he wants. 

It’s almost fifteen minutes before Nandor finally waves Guillermo over. 

“You ready to go for a ride on your legally purchased horse?” Guillermo asks. 

“In a minute,” Nandor says. "I wanted to say thank you, first."

"You're welcome," Guillermo says, beaming. 

"May I kiss you?"

Purely on autopilot, Guillermo opens his mouth to say 'sure'. It hangs open, soundlessly, when the words actually hit his brain. Nandor waits, patiently, as Guillermo's brain turns itself inside out trying to figure out if what he'd heard was what had actually been said to him. Finally it gives up and Guillermo makes a noise that sounds reasonably close to 'yeah'.

It is a soft, sweet kiss–nothing like the grasping passion Guillermo refuses to admit he sometimes fantasizes about–and more than perfect. Part of him thinks that this is going to make his life very complicated very quickly, before it melts into mush with the rest of his brain. 

Nandor does not pull away immediately when the kiss ends. They stay that way, inches apart, both searching the other's face for the same thing, although Guillermo could not say what it was. He takes some comfort–or maybe pride–from the fact that Nandor looks as flustered as Guillermo feels. 

A large, prickly nose presses against Guillermo’s face, making him shriek and flail away. Nandor bursts out laughing, the laugh he only ever makes around his horse.

"John wants to kiss you thank you too!" he says, gleefully. Guillermo feels brave enough to glare at him. "Come, I do not want you to be late." 

"Late for what?" 

Nandor smiles.

"Oh, no. No, no, come on!" he cries as Nandor begins to steer him out of the stable, John trailing behind. “I got you your horse!” Guillermo protests, almost a wail of desperation. 

“And as my way of saying thank you, I will not allow you to weasel-worm your way out of becoming a great warrior.” 

Guillermo groans. 

"I don't want to be a great warrior," he says, fully aware that he's whining.

“Sure you do! Everyone does.” 

Susan is waiting patiently by the paddock. Her eyes light up when she sees Nandor leading John.

“So you’re who the horse is for,” she exclaims. “I thought it was odd, Guillermo going to all that trouble to get a horse. No offense," she adds quickly.

“Yes,” Nandor says brightly. “This is John. John, say hello to Susan. She is Guillermo’s riding instructor.” 

John’s snort somehow sounds very polite. Susan asks an incomprehensible horse-based question that Nandor eagerly answers. Guillermo takes a very subtle step back. Then another. Nandor is talking about John’s hooves. Guillermo continues to sidle away. 

He gets three more steps before a hand grabs the back of his jacket and he is hauled back around. 

“Nice try,” Nandor says. Guillermo gives him the saddest, most pathetic pleading eyes he can muster. He doesn’t care that Susan is right there. What is dignity compared to not having to ride a horse again ever in his life. 

“I will be back in one hour,” Nandor says, with no sympathy at all, and pats Guillermo on the shoulder. Guillermo looks miserably at Berry.

“You’re making really good progress!” Susan says encouragingly. “You’ll be more than ready for your ride next month!” 

Guillermo whirls around but Nandor is already walking away very quickly. 

“Nandor!” 

“I cannot hear you it is too loud out here I will see you later goodbye!” he calls over his shoulder. Guillermo scowls and strangles the air.  

“Every day I choose this,” he mutters to himself. “Every day I wake up and say, do I still want to put up with this? And I say yes.” 

Susan giggles and puts a hand over her mouth when he gives her a reproachful look. 

“He wants to share what he loves with you!” she says. 

“Ohhh no,” he says, “I’m not falling for that one again.” 

But even as he says it, he sees Nandor striking up a conversation with two riders, eagerly showing off John. His expression is bright and joyful, and it makes Guillermo’s irritation soften into something warm.  He sighs heavily, and takes the reins.

Sometimes love was moving mountains to reunite old friends, and sometimes love was allowing yourself to be strong-armed into learning how to ride a sentient mobile couch.