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mothhball · 2 months

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Positive Reinforcement

Pairing | Jonathan Crane x delusional!Reader (fem)

Warnings | 18+ SMUT, DUB-CON (bc Jon is playing a little hard to get), L-BOMB, fingering, oral sex (both m + f receiving), deepthroating, brief breathplay, mutual body worship, p in v sex, unprotected sex, multiple rounds, overstim, clothed male/naked female, threats of drugging, violence mention, reader is a little unhinged

Summary | You’re convinced he’s the one, but you’ve been causing nothing but trouble for Jonathan. Maybe it’s time to switch up the strategy.

Words | 6.2k

Notes | FILTH. Jon may be ooc, whoops. Honestly, this is very self-indulgent and was a struggle to write lol

Arkham certainly has its charms. From the noisy, dark hallways to the scratchy and shapeless patient uniforms - there’s something for everyone here. As far as you’re concerned, you’re here for no reason. At least no serious reason. You’re a lover and a fighter. Literally just a girl. Even though the GCPD certainly didn’t agree when they arrested you for attempted murder, assault, breaking and entering, and a bunch of other rude accusations.

Your ex broke your heart, so you crashed your car into him in an attempt to get back at him, breaking both his legs in the process. He may never walk again – big deal! A crime of passion, your honor! Revenge for the two years that you’ve wasted on a person, only for him to break up with you once he noticed the tracker sown into the bottom hem of his favorite jacket. Bummer.

But life goes on, and as long as your heart can beat, it can love. And the person who made you believe in romance again is sitting right in front of you in his office, narrowing his eyes as he stares you down over the rim of the coffee cup he’s sipping from. If only you could trade places with an inanimate object. Jonathan Crane in his entirety is worth the stay at Arkham. He’s worth the uncomfortable bed, colorless food and horrible daytime television that’s always running in the recreation room. Who needs freedom when you have love?

Crane was the first to listen to you. The first person to let you speak and philosophize about the nature of your devotion and the way you love people. And he didn’t judge you. At least not out loud.

But now, two months after being admitted to the asylum, he’s grown tired and agitated. Unhealthy attachment and mood-natural delusionships involving someone who wants nothing to do with you. That’s the addition to your diagnosis that Crane is currently rattling off right in front of you, but you’re too busy staring at every detail of his face, trying to manifest his hands on your skin and his tongue down your throat.

“Are you trying to go for a new record in weeks spent in solitary confinement?” Crane sets down the cup to have a free hand to rub his temple with.

The question makes you smile. Oh, he’s always so funny. So charming. But being sentenced to solitude wasn’t the goal you had in mind when you smashed another patient’s face into the cafeteria wall, not easing up until her teeth were scattered around like the shiny pearls of a rich lady’s ripped necklace. Even though you were hosed down by a guard and received a fresh set of clothes, the other woman’s dried blood is still crusted under the nail of your left ring finger. A secret little sign of your devotion. You didn’t do it out of anger or jealousy either. You did it because you knew that Crane would be forced to sit you down for an emergency therapy session. It’s his own fault for reducing your sessions to only once a week.

A playfully coy smile pulls at the corners of your lips, and you lean forward a little, wanting to get a better look at him even though you’ve already perfectly memorized every detail of him after just the first two days of being here.

“She shouldn’t have provoked me. I was defending myself. You understand me. Right, Jonathan?”

You slowly inch your hand across the table, almost making contact with his fingertips until he opts to grab your file instead. It’s a pointed gesture, and you quietly mourn the chance for physical contact with him. Crane clears his throat to bring your focus back to the here and now. And of course, the first thing he does is correct you.

“Whistler?” You furrow your eyebrows. “What does she have to do with this? I thought… I thought you were trying to help me.”

“It’s Dr. Crane for you. And I understand that you have very little self-control.” He pauses for a moment, struggling with a sudden surge of anger before he manages to continue. “I’ll be honest. My patience is wearing thin. You’re a danger to the other inmates, and Dr. Whistler of all people already offered to take you off my hands.”

This revelation makes you perk up suddenly, and there’s a bitter taste in your mouth. He’s thinking of giving you away?

“Yes, emphasis on trying. But as you can see, we’re not getting anywhere, are we? And Whistler mentioned how optimistic she is about your case. If you want my opinion, I think she’s itching to test out some new sedatives we’ve added to the catalog.” Crane adjusts his glasses, and the way he speaks almost makes you think he doesn’t care. But you’re sure he does. Of course he does. He has to. Nevertheless, the mere thought of not seeing him on a regular basis makes anxiety crawl up your spine, and you absently pick at your cuticles until you tear a little too deep, and another line of red pools around your fingernail.

“You can’t do this,” you try to argue, searching your brain for any good reason for him to keep you aside from the fact that you two belong together. You briefly lick your lips, daring to appeal to his pride. “If you hand me off, everyone will know that you failed. They’ll all know that you gave up on me because you couldn’t handle me.”

Crane’s eyes narrow into cold slits, and his grip on your file tightens. Uh-oh. That’s a very ugly expression on your darling doctor. He’s quiet for a moment, silently reigning himself back in. The rage that’s simmering beneath his skin dissipates a little when he has a sudden idea.

Maybe a different approach could work better. Realization sets in, and he almost wants to smack himself for not thinking of this sooner. Evidently, you don't care that much for punishment. Solitary confinement and restriction from activities do little to keep you in check. But how about a different motivation? How about reward?

"Alright, here's what we're going to do. We'll keep up the weekly frequency of solo therapy sessions." He thinks out loud, crossing his arms over his chest and occasionally tapping his fingers on his biceps. You want to voice your protest about not getting more sessions with him, but he continues with this lovely, rumbly tone that he uses whenever he's planning something and getting matter-of-fact with you. It's like catnip for your ears, almost making you melt in your little grippy socks.

"And if I don't hear any complaints about you from the other members of staff, you'll get a reward each time. So, be a good girl for a week and you'll get a treat. Easy, right?"

His eyebrows are raised expectantly as he waits for your reply, and you think about his offer, picking at your sleeve as you weigh out the pros and cons.

"Do I get to pick the reward?" you eventually ask, looking back at him with a glint in your eyes that he immediately recognizes. Crane firmly shakes his head, resisting the urge to roll his eyes.

"No. Because I know what you'll choose."

"Then I'm not doing it."

Crane sighs, pulling out his work phone.

"I'll give Whistler a call," he states, concentrating on trying not to smirk at the way your expression falls. Like threatening a child by calling Santa.

"Wait! No, I - ... how about a compromise?" You plead, not missing the parallel either. But if you don't want to settle for coal (or in this case, withdrawal from your man), you'll have to suck it up.

Crane looks up from his phone, thumb hovering over the buttons for another moment before he tucks it back into the pocket of his suit jacket. "A compromise? Doll, we’re not arguing over who does the dishes and brings out the trash. You have no say in this aside from agreeing to either a good or a bad time.”

Damn. Did he have to make it domestic?

“Let me burst your bubble for a moment,” He continues, not allowing you to fantasize over his choice of words for longer than necessary. “You have no power here. No agency, no privileges. You’re not ‘doing’ anything, you’re having things ‘done to’ you. You may think you have me in the palm of your hand, because I’m forced to see you every time you get yourself into trouble, but I could just as well keep you drugged and docile for the rest of your indefinite stay here. So,” he leans forward, resting his palms on the table and clearing his throat.

“No more nonsense. This is your very last warning. If you lash out again, I’ll hand you over to Dr. Whistler, advise her to keep you sedated and move onto other much more interesting and agreeable patients, my reputation be damned.”

The silence that follows his words is deafening, and you can hear the blood rushing in your ears as the air suddenly feels thinner. Tears well up in your eyes. Bitter tears of shame and disappointment, and you feel like a petulant child, but it does nothing to stop them from rolling down your face and dripping onto the table below.

Crane stiffens, visibly taken aback by your sudden display of emotion. He thought he’s seen it all from you. The smirks, the winking, the way you bite your lip in an attempt to seduce a man who’s as emotionally available as one of the brick walls making up this very building. Part of him wants to escape the conversation immediately, but it’s his job to at least attempt to help you through your issues, and leaving you in a state of distress is the entire opposite of that.

“Listen,” he starts, almost tentative. “I don’t want to do any of that. Not really. I want to keep working with you. And I believe you’ve made a little progress so far, but you’d be even further along if you’d stop antagonizing everyone for a chance to speak to me.”

“But I need to. You don’t understand.”

“Understand what?”

You sniffle, unable to articulate properly. He should know. He should understand from a single second of eye contact. Yet here you are, forced to spell it out for him. Crane’s eyes soften ever so slightly, and he pulls out a pack of pocket tissues, sliding it across the desk so you can dry your tears. His tone is calmer now, almost gentle.

“Why are you doing this? All of this resistance… the altercations with other patients… your life could be so easy. So why?”

“To make you notice me,” you sniffle, gingerly patting your cheeks with one of the paper tissues. Crane’s eyebrows furrow in response.

“You don’t think I would’ve noticed you without all of this mess?” He tilts his head, slightly amused by your melodramatic performance. You scoff at the question, frowning when he actually smirks at you this time.

“No, you wouldn’t. You wouldn’t notice me if I were a model patient. You wouldn’t spare me a single glance if I was docile like the others… I want you to think about me even when your shift is over.”

Crane shrugs, letting out a sigh through his nose as he does. A corner of his lip twitches, and you can’t tell whether it’s in amusement or disgust. The fact that you tried to manipulate him by being a ‘bad’ patient irritates him, but he has to admit that your strategy worked.

“You’re right. I wouldn’t notice you. You have no idea how difficult and repetitive this job gets… how much the faces start to blur together after a while. You’re not very special at all, if I’m being honest.”

The comment and the monotony in his voice sting, and just for a split second, the mask of sweetness slips to reveal the anger and hurt in your eyes. You quickly manage to reel yourself back in, and you clear your throat as you look away from him. At least he’s being honest with you. The basis of a good and healthy relationship.

“I could… make myself special to you.” A pause.

“Do you think you’re capable of doing that? I mean, so far, you’ve just been causing problems and it’s getting stale. Can you really do something better for me?”

“I can be good… I could show you how I feel for you.” It’s a gamble and you know it. But the possible reward outweighs the risk. At least to your infatuated brain. Crane shifts in his seat, deciding to humor you.

“How do you feel for me? Enlighten me a little bit.”

“I’m in love with you. I love you.” Your sweetheart bristles like a cat, and you feel let down by his reaction. During the countless times you’ve fantasized about this moment in the showers, scrubbing yourself with cheap soap, he was elated by your confession. But the real-life Jonathan Crane just looks at you with mild pity. Pity that doesn’t quite reach his eyes.

“That was… fast. Didn’t even waste a moment to admit it. But I suppose it’s expected from you,” he sighs, shaking his head as he writes something down in your file. You’re quick to defend yourself. This isn’t a joke to you, after all. You’re laying your heart completely bare, ripping apart skin and flesh to expose the bloody, weakly beating thing to his unimpressed eyes.

“I mean it.”

He lets out a low whistle, and his eyebrows raise ever so slightly. For an agonizingly long moment (about 30 seconds), he punishes your honesty with silence before he finally sets his pen down and looks at you.

“Then do something to prove it.” He says it so nonchalantly. As if he’s not really expecting anything at all. But he’s severely underestimating how deep your devotion runs for him. Your chair screeches across the floor as you get up, and Crane looks alarmed for a fleeting moment before you lower yourself to your knees and crawl under his desk until you come up between his thighs. Your sweetheart’s eyes soften, and he reaches down to brush his fingers through your hair almost instinctively.

“I’ll show you…” you murmur softly, running your hands over his thighs and lightly digging your nails into the fabric of his slacks. Crane lets out a barely audible sigh, shifting a little in his seat to part his legs for easier access. So considerate. Your man really is such a darling.

Looking up at him from beneath the table, you make quick work of his belt and zipper before you pull up his shirt that he kept tucked into his pants. Your mouth waters at the sight of his skin, and you lean in to kiss his stomach while your hand moves to palm his cock through his boxers. Crane hisses softly, keeping his eyes locked on your devoted form between his thighs, and a shiver runs down his spine when you pull down his underwear, exposing him to the cool air of his office.

“God… your cock is so beautiful… you don’t know how long I’ve been dreaming of sucking you off…” you murmur, eyes lighting up as you wrap your hand around him. Crane licks his lips, unsure how to feel about the compliment. You’ve been his biggest headache for months now, and yet here you are, sweettalking him while you’re sitting under his desk with your fingers around his dick.

“I bet you taste as sweet as you look.” You giggle, gathering some saliva in your mouth before you let it dribble down onto his tip so you can pump his cock more easily. Crane’s brows furrow, and you smile up at him before licking from his base up to his tip, causing him to twitch against your tongue. You know he’s always pent up, always stressed, and you don’t really have to worry about him seeking release elsewhere since he’s always focused on his work. And, in some abstract way, always focused on you.

Loyalty. Another pillar of an unbreakable bond.

You can feel him hardening within your grasp, and you swear you can hear an almost silent breath of relief when you finally take his cock into your mouth. You start off slow, moaning at the feeling of his length on your tongue, and you continue to caress his thighs and stomach in an effort to worship him like he deserves.

“No teeth, doll.” He smirks down at you, smoothing his thumb over your cheekbone as you continue to suck the precum from his tip. The taste of him makes your mind fog up, and you nod eagerly, pulling away from him for just a moment to answer properly.

“Cross my heart, Jon.” Your mouth is back on him within seconds, and you bob your head up and down, taking him deeper down your throat every time. Crane hisses in response, and his grip on your hair tightens.

“It’s still Dr. Crane to you…” His protest is half-hearted at best, and you witness his composure crumbling in real time as you suck him off like you’re trying to devour him whole. You’re on a mission. A mission to drive him to the brink of insanity like his mere presence does you. Crane huffs out another sharp breath, and his hips twitch forward, generously helping you to breach your throat barrier and causing you to splutter around him. Tears well up in your eyes, but you stay down on his cock, pushing down all the way until the neatly trimmed hair on the base of his length tickles your nose.

“Fuck… You’re so pretty when you gag on it.”

You pull off of him, only managing to swallow half the spit that gathered in your mouth while the rest drips down your chin, but he doesn’t seem to mind at all. Crane’s hand massages the back of your head encouragingly, and you flash him a bright smile before you go back down at him with a little more vigor.

After a while, you go to catch your breath, but before you can pull away completely, both his hands shoot out to grab your head and push you back down on his cock. Your eyes widen, and you let out a slight noise of protest as he begins to fuck into your throat. Drool dribbles down your chin, soiling the shirt of your patient uniform while your nails dig into Crane’s thighs in an attempt to ground yourself. He clenches his jaw, moaning through his teeth while your throat contracts around him.

“Perfect little cocksucker… so eager to show me your love…” He cuts himself off with a little grunt, and his grip on your head tightens as he moves your skull up and down. “All the way down… yes, keep your tongue out…”

You continue to gag around his length, trying to keep up with the rhythm of his thrusts as he forces his cock down your pharynx, enjoying the way your muscles clench and contract. His soft moans become more urgent, and pride makes your heart swell. He’s making these noises because of you.

“That’s it… good girl. Eyes on me. I want you to look at my face when I cum down your pretty little throat...”

You whine in response, nodding your head as best as you can, and you start to work in tandem with him as he gets close. The moment you feel him pulse on your tongue, he pushes you down all the way again, and his hand reaches around to your face. You catch a dark glint in his eyes when he suddenly pinches your nose shut, constricting your airflow completely as he chokes you on his cock. You struggle against him, but he doesn’t budge as his eyes fall shut and he grunts out more praise. Panic rises in your chest, and your muscles convulse in a desperate attempt to get air into your neglected lungs. And it’s exactly this panic in your eyes that pushes Crane over the edge and he shoots his load directly down your throat, giving you no other option but to swallow the hot ropes of cum that he lazily continues to fuck into your mouth.

Finally, he lets go of your head, and you immediately flinch back to suck in some much-needed air. The both of you are panting, and you keep your watery eyes locked on his satisfied expression while strings of spit still connect your swollen lips to the flushed head of his cock.

“You okay?”

“Yeah...“ you breathe out in reply, trying to swallow the soreness in your throat. Crane’s hand reaches out to you again, caressing your head like a cherished pet, and he chuckles to himself.

“Catch your breath, doll. That was one hell of a way to prove yourself…” He murmurs, reaching across the table to retrieve the pack of pocket tissues and hand it to you. Your fingers are a little shaky as you wipe the mess from your chin and neck, and you slowly return to your chair. Crane’s brows furrow when he watches you retreat, and you blink at him.

Immediately, your thoughts begin to spiral. What are you doing? Sitting back down, that much is evident. Did he want you to stay and keep on sucking him off? Were you supposed to keep the spit on your face intact? Does he – Crane effectively snaps you out of your mental gymnastics routine by brushing his foot against your calf, and you’re immediately focused on the butterflies that fill up your chest.

“What?”

“What are you doing?” He asks, not bothering to elaborate.

“As far as I’m concerned, you behaved very well just now. So, I’d like to keep my word and reward you.”

He points over to the leather couch in the corner of his office, and you find yourself standing before he can even fully extend his arm. Crane follows after you, leading you with his hands on your hips until your knees softly bump against the furniture. He’s pressed up behind you, breathing in the scent of your skin while his hands begin to trail all over your body. You tilt your head back, resting it on his shoulder as his touch slips under your shirt, and you can feel the way his fingers are trembling against your flesh. Crane clicks his tongue as he pinches your nipples, slowly rolling the hardening bud between index and thumb in a way that makes you jolt in his grasp.

“Let me see what I’m working with, doll,” he murmurs, pulling your shirt over your head and tossing it aside before the cotton bustier that the asylum provided follows suit. Your first instinct is to shy away, but he grabs your shoulders and spins you around to get a good look at you. His gaze is detached. Clinical. And you can feel yourself shrinking away until he finally decides to open his mouth. “Fucking hell… maybe I should’ve indulged you sooner.”

It isn’t much in terms of a compliment, but to you it might as well be a marriage proposal. Your breath catches in your lungs as Crane leans in, sucking your nipple into his mouth while his hands wander lower to push down your pants and sneak into your underwear. He chuckles when his fingers dip into the mess that has built up between your thighs.

“Did sucking my cock make you this wet already?”

“I mean… it is a pretty cock…” you try to defend your already half-unraveled state, and he lets out a laugh. A genuine one of honest amusement, and the noise makes your heart soar up into the sky.

“Quiet. Lie back on the couch for me, sweetheart.” The new pet name almost makes your body collapse in on itself. Your back meets the cold faux leather, and you let out a quiet hiss of discomfort as you sink a little into the cushions. Crane pulls your pants and underwear off completely, letting them join the already existing pile on the floor before he gets on the couch with you. He grabs your thighs, pulling you a little closer so he can rest your legs over his shoulders while he lies flat between them. His breath ghosts over your pussy, and he spreads your folds open with his thumbs to get a good look at your drooling entrance.

“Pretty… so, so pretty,” he murmurs, kissing up the insides of your thighs before he circles his tongue around your eager hole, savoring your taste with a deep, guttural groan.

You reach out your hand to hold his, but he swats it away, causing you to give his hair a harsh tug when he doesn’t do as you want him to. This, however makes him answer with a rough bite to the meat of your thigh, and you’re almost embarrassed by the wanton noise that slips past your lips. Pain tingles down your spine, and you try to sit up, only for him to push you back down. In a second attempt, you manage to catch his hand and immediately link your fingers together so he can’t escape your clammy, possessive grip. To your absolute delight, he’s not even trying to this time around. You knew he’d come around.

His tongue dances around your dripping entrance yet again, licking a stripe up your pussy that makes your grip on his hand tighten and your toes curl. Finally, finally, he sinks a finger into you, already sliding in to where his digit meets his palm, and he moans along with you when he feels how your pussy flutters around him.

“Jonathan…”

For the first time, he doesn’t correct you. Instead, he chooses to lean in and devour you, eagerly lapping at your juicy cunt as he presses the pad of his fingers against that sweet spot inside of you. He’s insatiable, parting your folds with his tongue and groaning at your taste as you grind your clit against the diligent muscle. And his eyes. Oh, God his eyes. He’s almost crushing you beneath his heated gaze, keeping you pinned while he eats you out like a starved man. Now, it’s Jonathan’s turn to get messy, and he doesn’t mind in the slightest as your saccharine slick coats his chin. He adds another finger into your cunt, pulling away from your clit to bite and suck on your thighs while he stretches you open.

“Fuck – “

“Just another finger, doll. Let yourself go for me…” He murmurs between licks and gentle bites as he returns to your pussy, his glasses fogging up from the heat.

Your hands are still intertwined, even as your back arches and you continue to pant and moan out his name. Even as your breath hitches when he latches back onto that sensitive bundle of nerves. Even when he adds a third finger and you finally come on his tongue with a wail that sounds as blissful as it does delirious.

Your brain is clouded by euphoria, and your bite your lip to keep quiet as he continues to pump his fingers inside of you. You can hear the mess he’s made between your thighs. A mix of his saliva and your juices, and Jonathan is not wasting a single drop of it. Pleasure quickly turns to overstimulation, and you only faintly register the little laugh he lets out at your state.

“Christ, I want to kiss that expression off your face… Actually, don’t mind if I do.”

Jonathan leans over you, laughing again when he gets a closer look at your expression. And then months of yearning and dreams of romance become reality when his lips meet yours. Fireworks go off in your head, and you immediately pull him closer, almost causing him to topple over on top of you. It’s messy and overly excited on your part, but you couldn’t care less as your teeth clash a few times and you lick against his tongue and taste yourself on it.

Jonathan pulls back for a moment, despite the vise grip you have on his shoulders, but he calms you by pressing his lips against your brow, whispering like he’s trying to calm a wild animal. “Easy there… come on, be good.”

You whine in response, but when his thumb brushes over your clit again, your body jolts and you immediately shut up. Jonathan pushes his own pants down further, freeing his leaking cock again and giving himself a few pumps before he pushes his hips forward to coat his length in your slick. Every time the heard of his cock brushes up against you, you let out a soft little noise, and it’s in that moment that Jonathan decides he’d like to hear a lot more of it in the future. He grits his teeth, slowly sinking into your cunt while keeping his eyes fixed on yours.

Once upon a time, you were nothing special. You have an interesting backstory, sure. And your obsession with him does wonders for his ego. But right here, right now, something cracks the stony façade and he silently dares to venture a little further into the dreamworld you’ve built around the two of you. He sees parts of himself in you. The obsessive, volatile behavior. The inability to love in a way that’s considered normal. The desire to possess something or someone in its entirety.

You shiver when he bottoms out inside of you, his hips meeting yours and slightly squishing you into the faux leather cushions of the couch. You’re still tight and sensitive from your previous climax, and Jonathan can feel your pulse in the velvety walls of your pussy that’s clenched around him. Despite your heightened sensitivity, his thumb returns to your clit, rubbing a tight figure eight into it that makes your head spin. His other hand leaves yours, grabbing your jaw instead to keep you from squirming.

“You’re gonna come for me again,” he states, rubbing you a little faster and applying more pressure along with it. Your muscles tighten, and your heart hammers in your chest as you stare up at him through half-lidded eyes.

“C… can you – “

“Move?” he finishes for you, pressing his forehead against yours. “Only if you cum again, I’m afraid. It’ll be another reward.”

You sob out a moan, face scrunching up when that familiar pressure begins to build inside of you for a second time. Jonathan keeps his hand on your jaw, watching every twitch and flinch of your expression with a look of genuine fascination.

“God, why would anyone ever leave you…” he murmurs, and his word pierce right into your heart and the black depths of your lonely little soul. “Pretty thing… if you didn’t break his legs, I’d recommend for him to get a cell on the opposite end of the hall…”

Your breath hitches as he continues to rub your clit and softly speak to you. “Insanity, I tell you… abandoning such a cute toy... It’s beyond me.” He lets out a soft groan when you tighten around his cock. “That’s it… thaaat’s it.”

You reach the edge again, clenching your eyes shut as you come a second time. Jonathan captures your lips with his own yet again, and while you’re stuck on cloud nine, he pulls his cock out all the way only to slam back inside with an intensity that pushes the air from your lungs. You cry into his mouth as he picks up a consistent, slow rhythm of deep thrusts that make your eyes clench shut. Jonathan releases you from the kiss and gives your jaw a little warning squeeze, wanting your eyes to stay on his while he’s rearranging your anatomy with his cock.

“There we go… stretched open so well.”

You squirm back on your elbows, looking up at him with dilated pupils and burning cheeks, but he grabs your waist and pulls you back right to the base of his cock. A truly sinful noise spills from your lips and for a moment you don't even register that it came from you.

Crane chuckles as he starts to roll his hips again, his right hand hovering dangerously close to your poor, abused clit again. A silent threat almost. Then again, he's quite literally threatening you with a good time.

"S'too much...," you groan out, your body rocking every time he spears you open with his girth.

"Shh... no, no.." he tuts, tightening his grip to prevent you from escaping. "You're gonna stay right here and take it. Stay right. Fucking. Here."

Every word he speaks is empathized by a sharp thrust into your drooling cunt, causing you to howl in pleasure and claw at his back. Every nerve in your body is on fire, drowning you in sweet, sweet agony.

"You wanted this, right? For months you've been begging. And now it's suddenly too much?"

You can only nod, babbling some incoherent nonsense in response. Crane lets out a condescending laugh which quickly twists into a moan when you clench around his cock. No matter how much he tries to pretend, he's just as close as you are.

His fingers dig into the flesh of your thighs, clinging to you like you're a lifeboat in a storm as he keeps on thrusting into your slick heat.

"So good for me... God, you're so beautiful when you're sweet and obedient... accepting your reward like a good little patient."

You look up at him, trying to focus on his flushed face even though your eyes are rolling back in your head. Crane leans down to capture your mouth in another heated kiss, nipping at your lips and tasting your tongue while he moans down your throat.

The rhythm of his hips stutters when he pulls away to press his face into the crook of your neck, and suck and bite at your skin in a desperate attempt to leave traces of himself.

“Are you going to cum again?” He groans into your skin, flattening his tongue against your pulse.

“N… no…” you whine

“No? This –“ He’s cut off by a moan of his own, and it takes a moment for him to pull himself together to finish his sentence. “This is your reward, doll… We’re going to have to work on – fffuck – on gratitude…”

“I can’t...! Please… please…” you beg, but you’re not sure what you’re even begging for. Certainly not for him to stop.

“You can’t? Well… you’re going to.” His thrusts begin to get faster and more erratic as he tries to fuck into you as deeply as possible “Do it for me, hm? Just for me…”

“No- fuck, please! Jonathan -!!” Tears well up in your eyes from the delicious pain, and you actually scream when he starts to rub your clit again. Colors explode behind your closed eyelids. “Please, please, please- “

“I know you can do it… one more time, doll… Just one more time…”

And you finally do as you’re told, cumming around his cock with an intensity that feels as if someone punched you in the gut. Your brain short-circuits, and you’re not even making noises anymore as he fucks you through your climax like you’re a toy that was handmade for his pleasure.

“Fuuuck – Christ, fuck -“ Jonathan’s voice completely lacks the air of authority and superiority that you are so used to when he whimpers into your neck, his hands tightening around you. It feels like you’re wrapped in cotton, and you can only hear him faintly due to the volume of your pulse that’s hammering in your ears. Finally, his hips still, and he sinks down on top of you as he finishes inside of your fluttering cunt. Rational thought is absent in this moment, and you’re absolutely certain that this is what paradise must feel like. Connected to the one you love so dearly. Overwhelmed by pleasure.

For a long while, the office is silent aside from the rugged breathing that’s coming from both of you, and you bask in his warmth, absolutely content to stay like this for the rest of time. Jonathan clears his dry throat, lifting himself up onto his elbows as he looks down at you, and you’re struck by overwhelming affection once again.

“I love you…”

“Shut up…” But there’s no bite to it. He huffs out a laugh and shakes his head, and for a moment, there’s a very real glimpse of fondness in his eyes. Crane stays silent, taking in your features like it’s the first time he sees you properly, and his hand comes up to gingerly trace over your cheekbone and eyebrow before he brushes a strand of hair out of your forehead. Then finally, he lets out a soft breath before he murmurs gently, intimately.

“Looks like I’ll have to come up with more rewards in the future.”

#jonathan crane x reader #jonathan crane #cillian murphy x reader #cillian murphy #jonathan crane smut #jonathan crane x you #jonathan crane x y/n #smut #.moth writes

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doggone-devil · 1 month

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How (Not) to Lose Your Soul: Chapter 2

Hello, dear readers! I'm back with Chapter 2! I apologize for how long this took. I ended up getting a job interview (spoiler alert, I got the job) so I didn't have as much spare time to write this as I wanted. But, here it is! I hope you all enjoy! It's a bit longer than I anticipated.. (over 3,000 words...woops). Pairing: Alastor x fem!Reader Warnings: mentions of unaliving oneself.

To the average sinner passing by, the haunting sounds from the tower above would sound like some rampaging monster. Growls, groans, and things crashing about sending any curious onlooker scurrying away in fear they'd be the ones that rage is unleashed upon. Yet to Charlie, her eyes casted up in worry and concern, knew what resides above the hotel lobby.

Sighing, she lays her head on her forearms, leaning onto the bar counter top. Vaggie lays a comforting hand on her back, but the soothing rubs do nothing to ease her troubled mind. "I just don't get it," she huffs. "I thought he'd be happy to be back in Hell after being topside so long! I mean, it's Al, right?" Charlie looks to Husk for confirmation, knowing the cat demon knows Alastor best. Husk only rolls his eyes, setting down the glass he had been cleaning.

"I've seen that man upset before but this? This is a whole temper tantrum. I don't know what happened up there but it's got his antlers in a bunch and I for one am staying clear of it," Husk states, turning his back to focus on the bottles lining the bar shelves. Charlie pouts and turns to her girlfriend, the ex-angel pinching the bridge of her nose.

"Maybe a deal went wrong? I mean, that's why he got summoned, right?" Vaggie asks. "Though why someone summoned him is beyond me."

"Maybe." Charlie hums in thought. "I don't think so, though. He looked so distraught when he came back. You should've seen him, Vaggie." Charlie recalls the way Alastor had looked when he finally returned to Hell. She had been shocked when Alastor was summoned, scared even as she watched his body practically disappear in front of her. She'd heard of mortals summoning demons before but never really witnessed it first hand until then. Most demons talked about how horrible it was, enslaved to a human's whim and only able to leave once the deal was completed. Knowing Alastor, she would've thought he'd return that same day, but as the day passed, then another, she knew something was wrong.

Tears well up in her eyes. Alastor had returned with an expression as if he had lost his life all over again, almost like he had died twice. There was pain in his eyes despite that permanent smile and she just wanted to hug him tightly, but before she could, he had sunk into his shadows. That's when the sounds started, up in his tower. Sounds of metal ripping, glass shattering, crashes and bangs. Charlie's brows draw tightly together, determination on her face as she stands, fists clenched.

"I'm going up there," she declares, walking away from the bar. Husk shakes his head, mumbling about how it's her funeral while Vaggie reaches out to her.

"Charlie, wait!" Her hand just misses Charlie's arm as the blonde demon continues up the stairs and towards the entrance to the radio tower. She was going to figure out just what was going on.

"It's not here." Rubble is kicked to the side, dust clouding upward from the sudden movement. "Another dead end." Two hours. You have been searching through this abandoned house for over two hours and absolutely nothing. You angrily scan around the room, eyes hoping but not finding the item you're looking for.

Veronica huffs loudly from the other side of the room, standing upright. "Maybe it got stolen?" she offers. You shake your head.

"Owners must've sold it or they still have it. Either way, it's not here." You turn and head for the front doors. "Waste of time," you mumble under your breath, exiting the large house and returning to your car. It was becoming the same end result. Promises of an item or book that would help you connect to Hell, and then nothing. Every location you've stopped at and searched proved to be useless. It was almost like you were one step behind every single time, something or someone dangling hope in front of your eyes before yanking it away once you were close enough. It was starting to wear you down, starting to make you angry.

"Maybe we'll have better luck at the next place," Veronica suggests as she steps outside behind you. She pulls out the list, checking for the next location, but you're already walking to your car. She calls out your name in question but you can feel it, deep down. Despair.

"It's no use," you whisper. Tears are forming, hot and angry. "I'm never going to see him again." Veronica, now at your side, places her hand on your shoulder.

"Hey, come on now. You did it once before, we can do it again. We just have to -"

"Have to what?" you bark out at her. "Without his book, I can't summon him. Without any book, I can't summon any demon at all! There's no way I can get to him, not with these fucking angels intercepting at every chance they find." You kick the tire of your car, shouting in frustration. Veronica stands silently as you continue to repeatedly abuse the tire. You turn to her, "Is it so wrong to want to love him? To want to be happy?" Your voice breaks, the tears heavier now as your begin to sob. Your curse under your breath, wiping them away as you hide your face behind your sleeve.

Veronica steps towards you, pulling you in her arms. Your head comes to rest on her shoulder where you bury it against her, letting the emotions you've bottled pour out. She strokes your head and lets you cry. "It's going to be ok, girlie. I mean, you already know where he's at and he can't leave there. Even if we can't find anything now, once you've lived your life and passed away, you can just go to Hell and -"

"Wait," you pull away, eyes wide.

"What?"

"Repeat that again."

"He can't leave Hell?" she asks.

"No, no. The last part."

"Once you've lived your life, you can just go to -"

"That's it!" you cut her off again, a small laugh bubbling up. Why didn't you think of it before? The answer had been in front of you this entire time.

"What's it?" Veronica narrows her eyes at you, unsure. You smile wide, grabbing her shoulders.

"I just have to go to Hell!" You giggle and run to the driver's side of your car, grabbing your phone from the mount where you had left it. Veronica remains in place, confused as she watches you.

"Um, girlie, there's just one problem? You're alive?" You practically skip back over to her, thumb swiping the screen as your search through google results.

"Exactly!" you exclaim, turning the phone around to show her. "But what if I wasn't?" Her eyes widen as she looks at the list of nearby satanic cults.

"Oh no. No, no, no!" She begins to look horrified, taking your phone from your hand. "Are you insane?!" You raise a brow at her, your turn to be confused. "Girlie, you're straight up crazy! I'm not letting you do this."

"What do you mean?" you snatch your phone back.

"Wha - What do I mean? You're not about to go and kill yourself as some fucking offering to Satan!" she shouts at you.

"I'm not offering myself to Satan," you reply, rolling your eyes. "That's ridiculous." She sighs in relief. "I'm offering myself to Alastor." You walk to your car as she throws her hands up in the air.

"That's not any better!" She watches as you climb in, the car roaring to life. She calls out your name again. You roll down the passenger side window, leaning over to look at her.

"You coming or not?" You expect her to sigh and climb in, to tell you that this is a crazy idea as she comes along, but she doesn't move.

"You're actually doing this?" she asks, arms crossed over her chest. You pause, thinking. It was a bit of a long shot, having some cult kill you in the name of your demon lover just so you could go to Hell, but at the same time… You've decided. He was more important to you than your life.

"Yes, I am," you answer firmly. Veronica's arms drop.

"Then I'm not coming."

"Veronica?"

"I'm not going to watch my best friend quite literally throw her life away," Veronica states, tears falling down her cheeks. For a moment, you genuinely feel bad, like maybe you're not making the right decision. Even she had said you could just live the rest of your life and then die, but there's no guarantee you'll actually go to Hell after. Sure, you could just sin like crazy, but you're not even sure which sins are legit enough to secure damnation and you're not about to commit murder. No, this was the only way you could see working.

You leave the car running as you step back out, walking over to Veronica. For a second, she looks relieved, like you changed your mind. You hug her tightly. "This is goodbye, then," you say to her. She doesn't hug you back and you don't chance looking at her as you climb back into your car. She has her phone, she has money, she can make it back home without you. Still, you forward the list of cults to her so she can retrieve your car and things after the deed is done.

Glancing one last time towards her, you steady your nerves and reverse out of the driveway. As you drive away, you start to feel your nerves calm down, a sense of happiness washing over you. You begin to smile, your lips stretched wide. In exactly one hour and forty minutes, you'll arrive at your destination. In exactly one hour and forty minutes, you'll finally have the chance to be reunited with him, forever. You just hope this cult is as legit as the reviews say they are.

Pink. It's fucking pink.

You stare at the building google maps led you to, the street lined with townhouses on other side. You're parked in front of the only one that has a pentagram above it's door, it's very bright, yellow door. You frown. The whole house is colorful from it's shingles to it's windows. None of it screams satanic to you as you walk up the steps to the porch. Even the outdoor chair is some pastel color and is that duck print? You squint, looking at the pillows on it. Yep, those are ducks.

"What the fuck," you sigh, approaching the front door. You recheck google one last time, just to make sure you're in the right place. The red pin on the map says you are so you pocket your phone, taking a deep breath before knocking on the door. A high pitch voice responds from the other side as footsteps approach, fast, almost as if they're running to answer. The door flings open and you're immediately pulled into a hug.

"Hello! Blessings to you! I'm so happy to meet you, sister!" the young woman greets you. You tense up immediately.

"Uh, hi?" She lets you go.

"I am Sister Beth." She looks up at your with a big smile. She's slightly shorter than you, blonde hair braided into a thick fishtail with little petals and leaves tangled throughout it. Her clothes are bright, reminding you of hippies from the sixties. Definitely not what you were expecting.

"This is the House of Lucifer, right?" You look around. "Did I get the wrong house?" Beth giggles again, grabbing your hand.

"Of course not, silly! You're in the right place." She tugs you inside, bringing you through a foyer and into an equally colorful living room. What you thought would be black candles, skulls, and cobwebs turned out to be lava lamps, beads, and bean bag chairs. She plops you down into one, taking seat opposite you with her legs crossed. You sit for a second, trying to take everything in. Was it possible to get whiplash from this? You sure felt like.

"So what brings you here, sister?" she asks, leaning forward. You sink into the chair, partially to lean away from her and partially because you're sinking.

"Uh, well, I was hoping to use your services." You didn't actually plan this through, now that you think about it. What were you suppose to tell her? You've come to be used as an offering to some random demon? Might as well tell her you're the Pope.

"Oh we have all kinds of services! Which ones? I could do a blessing ritual, read your fortune, contact lost loved ones - oh there's so many!" Her bright demeanor was starting to give you a headache.

"None of those," you say. "The one I have in mind is less…" You trail off, unsure what to say. Friendly? Cheerful? Legal? "Known." Beth tilts her head in confusion, almost like a dog, before her eyes widen.

"You mean our secret services?" she whispers. You nod. She looks around, then stands, grabbing your hand again. "Only Mamma Edith can do those." You gulp, not liking the way she said that.

"Mamma Edith?"

Beth shakes her head. "Mamma Edith is the one who started this house! She takes care of all of us and provides to us the word of Lucifer!" Oh no. The one cult you chose to visit and you got the one that was a legit cult. Why couldn't you have chosen the one where they wore black robes and turned out to be thirty year old men still living in their mom's basement?

"So she can help me?" you ask.

"Most definitely!" Beth leads you down a hallway and you can't help but notice all the duck décor. Figurines, paintings, even the fucking wallpaper was ducks. God, what was with the duck obsession? This was suppose to be a satanic cult, right? Where was the blood, the eerie ambience of tortured screams? Had all the horror movies lied to you?

Beth suddenly stops and your attention comes to a giant, ominous, black door. Ok, that was more like it.

"Mamma Edith is just through here, but I can't go in," she states, pushing you towards it.

"Wait, if you can't, how come I can?"

"Cause she's waiting for you!"

"What? How could she be -" You don't have time to question her as the door slowly creaks upon. Beth turns and runs back down the hall, leaving you to stand alone as the door opens, revealing a black abyss inside. You start to miss the colorful interior of the living room. "Um, hello?"

"Enter." You shudder at the voice that answers, stern and powerful. You don't get the chance to respond as your feet take you inside, almost as if compelled to. The door slams shut behind you, submerging you in the darkness. You gulp.

"Um, I'm here to -"

"I know why you're here." You try to look around, but nothing is visible. "You seek to commune with the Other World, to contact those of which you can not begin to fathom." In any other scenario, you'd roll your eyes at the dramatics, but right now, it's working. You're scared.

"Y-Yes?" It comes out as more of a question than an answer. You jump as lights begin to flicker on. Little by little, the space around you becomes clear and all you can see is … "Ducks." There's so many ducks. The whole room is like a shrine to them, every inch covered in nothing but the color yellow and ducks.

"Welcome, child," a woman greets you and you turn to face her. She's sitting at a round table, auburn hair pulled into a bun. She's older, much older, but her eyes are youthful as they take you in. "I am Mother Edith, but you can call me Mamma." Yeah, not happening.

"Hi." You wave your hand, unsure what else to do. She motions for you to join her and you sit at the table.

"Lucifer has told me of your arrival," she says.

"He has?"

"Yes." She pulls out a black mirror, placing it down flat on the table. Her hands hover above it. "He has told me about you, how a girl would arrive asking to be a ritual sacrifice." Damn, news traveled fast. Did that mean he was watching you? How did he know about you? So many questions swirled through your thoughts, making you dizzy.

"Then, if you know why I'm here, will you help me?" you ask. You start to explain your story but she silences you.

"Lucifer has already given us his answer. He says," she pauses, hands waving over the mirror. You wait with bated breath. "Fat chance." Huh?

"Huh?"

"Ain't gonna happen." Edith drops her hands, leaning back in her chair. You blink.

"What do you mean?"

"I mean, you're shit out of luck. Lucifer denies you, won't accept you. Not for him, not for any demon," she explains. Your fists clenched. What the fuck?

"What the fuck? What do you mean he won't accept me? It's not even him I'm sacrificing myself for!" You stand from your chair. This was bullshit.

"No," Edith replies, her demeanor calm, "but he is the one who oversees any and all activities related to Hell. Nothing we do here happens unless he allows it. That includes sacrifices."

"Then I'll just find someone else."

"They won't do it, either."

"What?"

"Any and all persons who follow under him have now been told to deny you."

"So what? I'm like, banned from Hell now?" Edith nods. "Oh, fuck you." You don't hold back as the anger builds. "Fuck you and your stupid little rules. You know what? Fuck him, too!"

"Watch your tongue, child," Edith warns, but you're on a roll now. On a mission.

"Isn't he suppose to be some powerful fucking being, evil beyond human comprehension? I'd be just another soul for his collection anyways, right? Another mortal claimed by Hell to rub into God's face?" She doesn't reply and you continue. "Sounds more like a pussy to me. Probably can't even fucking do half the shit the bible says he can." You look around, needing to throw something. To break something. You spot one of the ducks.

"Don't -" Edith tries to stop you, but you've already done it. The figurine hits the floor, shattering. You huff, feeling slightly better. You turn to give Edith more of your anger, pausing when you see her body go slack. A chill runs up your spine, the air turning cold. The lights flicker. Shit.

"You come into my house, uninvited," Edith starts, but it's not her voice. This voice is deeper, darker as she stands from her chair. "You badmouth me in my own home and then have the nerve to BREAK MY THINGS?" You flinch and squat down as the voice shouts loudly, a flash of bright light blinding you for a second. You peek open an eye. Standing where Edith just was is a man, red eyes narrowed towards you. His skin is pale white, blonde hair tucked back under a hat. Large, red horns protrude from his forehead, fire crackling between them. Your eyes go wide as you realized who it is standing before you.

Lucifer.

taglist - @i-like-potatoes12533, @girl-nahh-two, @mcntsee, @projectdreamwalker, @sassmasterxx, @alsemain, @yunimimii, @noraunor, @justneo11, @dragonlover123a, @falsemain, @ephemeralxv, @theshello, @wonderlandangelsposts, @weirdflower2024, @yourworstgf, @youroneandonlysimp, @alastorstandard, @florelll, @nyxnightshade7656, @rinitachan, @saccharine-nectarine, @nyxnightshade7656

Masterlist ... Ao3

#hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel alastor #hazbin alastor #alastor #the radio demon #alastor hazbin #alastor x reader #alastor x you #hazbin hotel fanfic #fanfic #hazbin fanfic #alastor fanfic #alastor fanfiction

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lxclerc · 2 years

Text

𝐟𝐢𝐞𝐫𝐲 | 𝐜𝐥𝟏𝟔

SUMMARY: in which you and charles finally come clean about your feelings. PAIRING: charles leclerc x reader WARNING: unrequited love(???), sexual innuendos, charles is a simp, a bunch of confused drivers REQUEST: hereWORD COUNT 1.5k NOTE: let me know if you want to be added to my f1 taglist!

masterlist

Charles is jealous. He isn’t too proud to admit it but if the sinking in his stomach and the anger rising in his chest isn’t jealousy from the sight of your date’s arm around you and the bright smile painting your face then he doesn’t know what it is.

Not that he has any right to be jealous. You and Charles are only friends as you’ve repeatedly told yourselves and anyone who asked. Friends who share the same bed nearly every night and can’t seem to keep still without parts of your skin touching but definitely just friends. It doesn’t matter if he spends every hour of every day wanting to kiss you silly till your lips are swollen or if he wants to rip this man’s arm off its socket for touching you because friends are what you’ve always been and perhaps it’s all you’ll ever be.

“Best friends,” you corrected back in eighth grade as you were losing your consciousness after falling down a tree while he screams for someone to help my goddamn friend. He thought best friends is way worse than just friends but he’d never voice those thoughts out loud. While you laughed and gently corrected anyone who mistook the two of you as couples, he died a little bit inside.

He loved you as soon as he learned the definition of the word. He’s spent most of his childhood adoring you, the entirety of his adolescent pining after you and how fucking pathetic is it that now, as a considerably successful adult, he still spends all his days wanting you.

“Who’s that with Y/N?” Carlos asked, catching the sight of you in the hotel lobby, grinning ear to ear at the man before you.

He, Carlos, Pierre and Daniel had decided to raid the hotel’s open bar with Charles being the culprit who dragged all of his friends along after learning that you’re going on a date. If you saw him drinking alone at two in the morning, you’d surely pret over him, asking him questions after questions if he’s alright but if you see him drinking with the other drivers, you’d pass it off as them just winding down after the race weekend.

Charles chugs another bottle of beer, glaring at your figure. “Don’t know.”

Charles watched as you went on your tiptoes, planting a small kiss on the man’s cheek before you waved at him goodbye. He tries not to scoff as he watches you watch your date leave before finally turning around, immediately catching sight of the group of drivers. The hotel restaurant and the open bar is just by the lobby and so with a grin on your face, you’re heading to them.

“Bonjour,” you greet with a smile, taking your usual place on Charles’ side. “Taking advantage of the open bar, I see.”

When you lean in to place your usual kiss on his cheek as you’ve done in your twenty years of friendship, Charles moves to the side, unable to let you touch his skin after you touch another man’s. He almost wanted to take it back and offer himself to you when he sees the look in your eyes, the rejection puzzling you.

You lean to his side, hand unconsciously placing themselves on his thigh, immediately making Charles stiffen at the contact. How can you touch him without feeling as though your heart is about to burst? How can you be so close to him without being so aware that you can almost hear your bloodstream? How can you breathe his air without wanting to crash your lips with his? All everyday struggles he has to deal with for loving you. Everyday struggles that he puts up with because he’d rather love you without receiving the same love back? He’d rather have little of you than have nothing at all.

Pathetic really. Charles has spent the last twenty years pining after you, dating women after women in an attempt to get over you. He’s tried to distance himself but the sight of you in front of his house, tears streaming down your face as you asked if you’ve done anything to make him no longer want to be your friend was pure cruelty.

But as you place your chin on his shoulder, he thought this might be just as cruel. “Are you okay, Charles?”

“Fantastic,” he couldn’t help but quip, sarcasm dripping from his voice. He knows you’ll notice it but in his drunken stupor, he can’t find it in himself to care. Maybe it’ll be good if he just lets go of everything, maybe it’ll finally free him from the self-inflicted torment of you.

Your eyebrows furrow together and he can already see you becoming irritated. You’ve always had such a quick temper in things like this. “Qu'est-ce qui se passe avec toi?” What’s going on with you?

At the other side of the table, Pierre turned to the two of you, hearing your question and the tone of your voice and Charles’ cold demeanor.

“Rien, Y/N.” Nothing. Charles rolls his eyes. He’s pushing you, he knows. Is he pushing you as a subtle way to punish you for being oblivious to his feelings or is he pushing you so you’ll push back and he’ll have the chance to explode, to be mad and angry and start screaming. “Peut-être que tu devrais plutôt t'inquiéter de ton rendez-vous.” Maybe you should be worrying about your date instead.

“Seriously?” You ask in english, voice rising a little and cutting Daniel’s laugh as the others began taking notice of your and Charles’ tense shoulders. “This is what you’re being an asshole about? Increíble. Estás actuando como un maldito niño.” Unbelievable. You’re acting like a damn child.

Your change in spanish, your mother tongue, is fluid as though you hadn’t realized you’ve done it but all it does is fill Charles with more anger. Being unable to understand you is infuriating him more than it should.

“Giving all your time to men who treat you like shit,” he mutters angrily. “Men who don’t deserve an ounce of your attention e poi vieni strisciando da me dopo che ti hanno spezzato il cuore, chiedendomi di sistemare le cose come sempre. They don’t fucking deserve you.” then you come crawling to me after they break your heart, needing me to fix it for you like always.

The two of you’s constant change in languages is giving the three other men a whiplash. Carlos, the one who can understand both Spanish and Italian, suddenly wished he had popcorn with him. Pierre looks concerned as he watches the two of you, having seen this scene so many times before. You two loved to dance around your feelings instead of just saying it out loud and he knows there’s no point in trying to intervene now. Daniel, who can only understand the English aspects of your conversation, looks confused as he watches.

Your eyes are fiery as you face him. “Who deserves me then?”

And god, Charles loves the way your eyes lit up in anger. He loves the way that fighting with you gives him the same adrenaline as going over 250 miles on a race track. He loves the way you ignite this much life out of him as though he’s free falling from a thousand feet up, his soul leaving his body as you leaned into him, your eyes challenging him to tell the truth for once, to just blurt it out. But his lips remain shut, his jaw clenching and his eyes holding the same fire it does yours.

A cold smile lips the corner of your lips as you let out a humorless laugh. You figured. “¿No quieres salir conmigo, no quieres tocarme, no quieres follar conmigo pero te enfadas cuando otros hombres lo hacen?” You won't date me, won't touch me, won't fuck me but you get mad when other men do?

Carlos, who was drinking water, choked at your words, his cheeks turning pink. He suddenly really really wished he’s unable to understand you.

And Charles really really wished he’s able to resist you because you look so beautiful right now as you scream at him that he feels like his heart is jumping out of his chest. You’re a damn tempress, made to test him and drag him to hell. He can’t help but stare at you, feeling as though you’ve bewitched him.

“Forgot to use your mouth?” You taunt, enough to have him moving.

Before either of you could react, his lips were on yours, hungrily claiming them as you stood in shock, trying to process what was happening. It only took you half a second to reciprocate, your arms wrapping themselves around his neck as you pulled him closer to you.

“You talk too much,” he mutters as he keeps kissing you, making you grin as you clutch at his shirt.

“Took you long enough.”

taglist: @ricsaigaslec @dragon-of-winterfell

#charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc fluff #charles leclerc x y/n #charles leclerc #charles leclerc x you #charles leclerc one shot #charles leclerc fanfic #charles leclerc imagines #f1 one shot

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frownyalfred · 10 months

Note

*busts down your doors* HEY! Long ask for ya

okay so I was rereading your fic where EMS showed up because Dick couldn’t flip on the trampoline (rip) and it got me thinking about routine trauma.

So here’s the thing: I am not EMS. I know three people who are EMS, but my extent of EMS experience comes from one (1) ride along and lurking on EMS subreddits. Those guys are a hoot. Great memes. Anyways.

A comment stuck out to me: “You haven’t truly lived the job until you’re eating a gas station burrito next to a dead body”. I’ve seen a bunch like that. Nonchalance and dark humor because well, that’s their job. Gore is the norm. Sure, depending on the area, your usual calls might just be lift assists, but other areas are neck deep in gang violence and violent crime.

A pretty common post on that subreddit is also, sadly, “I just got a call that’s never bothered me before but all of a sudden I’m broken” or “I’ve never had a problem running this type of call before but all of a sudden it just hit me.” Delayed trauma is a bitch. Someone pointed out that if a civilian saw a fatal car accident with multiple corpses, they’d be in therapy and given support and it’d be a huge deal. With EMS, they’re just expected to deal with it. (EMS mental health is getting better- there are helplines and resources and first responder focused therapies- but it’s still a developing field)

ANYWAYS, now that I’ve given you a crash course on the EMS mental health crisis (someone should really write a feature on EMS in Gotham those fuckers would be crazy and I love them already), my point is, how would this apply to the bats? Seeing bodies is treated as very much the norm to them, but do you think it ever just… catches up? The impact of seeing corpses day after day? Do you think they have to fake being fine and tough during those times because well, “everybody else in the family is fine with it, I’m not going to be a liability/burden/weak/etc”

Do you think Bruce, the goddamn batman, who shouldn’t be ruffled by anything, ever just feels something crack inside when he looks at a little boy who could have grown up healthy and strong like his Jason, had (Bruce) someone been there for him? and then he can’t work cases with kids for a week?

This is such an excellent ask, thank you so much for gracing my inbox with it!

It's a very good question. I'm also on a lot of those subreddits (needed to do some research for that fic) and the discussion in those forums and on TikTok is like you described, a kind of practiced desensitization to all gore and suffering in order to survive in their job.

What I've seen from those discussions (and my EMT friend) is an almost sub-conscious trend where they allow themselves the "thing" that breaks them, and they push a lot of that trauma and emotion onto that thing. Like an EMT saying they don't do kids, or they don't do gunshots to the eye, etc. And they'll sob like a baby on those calls, while remaining stone-faced and level-headed through the triple homicide.

I'm just theorizing here, but I imagine the Batfamily uses similar coping skills -- pushing all that trauma and suffering into a box which cracks only under limited, defined circumstances. And they break or snap only under those conditions, because, subconsciously, they allowed themselves to.

So yes, Bruce might be 99% fine with most of the bodies he sees, but there might be a little boy who has a detail (like Jason's dark hair) that just slams into him out of nowhere.

PTSD and trauma literally change the structure of the brain. Individuals react differently to trauma after that, but there does appear to be a "desensitizing" effect with repeated trauma, as the body tries to compensate.

I agree that the Gotham EMTs must be some crazy motherfuckers. They probably deal with 6x the normal shit EMTs deal with in other cities. They probably take on a lot more trauma and burn out quicker than other EMTs, too.

Anyone else have thoughts on this? I admit I don't cover PTSD explicitly in a lot of my fics.

#ptsd #trauma tw #ptsd tw #death tw #bruce wayne #dc #batman #myfic #theresurrectionist #batfamily #batfamily meta #bruce wayne meta #batman meta #asks

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a-local-idiots-shitpost · 6 months

Text

Mc ran away from a Date with them-Brothers

Lucifer:

he told Diavolo about the fact both of you had a Date planned and if you think Diavolo finding out were both of you were and crashing it was bad it can get worse

because for some reason Solomon got involved and now it just feels like two ex´s trying to ruin the love life of their former partners worst part neither of you two were together with any of them… besides maybe Lucifer and Diavolo because who knows what weird relationship those two have

it got even so bad that you decided the best course of action was to just jump ship and never look back

sounds more dramatic than it actually was you just went to the toilet and jumped out while Lucifer was stuck with Solomon and Diavolo, horrible evening for him but you needed a sacrifice so those two wouldn´t follow both of you

and you only told him about when you were a safe distance away

needless to say your in a bunch of trouble and might get cursed to get stuck to Solomon and Diavolo as payback

Mammon:

listen Mammon owes a bunch of people a lot of money and while usually killing them together is just a funny activity for both of you it isn´t so nice when you´re wearing your good clothes every once in a while

and Asmo got them for you so you know when they get dirty or ripped or really anything happened to them before he could get a pic you will be dead

so yeah when both of you went somewhere nice and got ambushed you ditched his ass

which is a surprise because he´s supposed to be really fast but yet you lost him

or he lost you who knows

but what you do know is you ditched him, the Date and a chance for murder

kinda ruined the day to be honest, killing some Demons and/or some witches would have been a nice end for the night

at least there will always be a next time

Leviathan:

yeah he dragged you to a convention

actually dragging you would be the wrong word kidnapping you would be more accurate, Levi´s reasoning was that he knew you wouldn´t come anyway but he can just knock you unconscious and drag you there

jokes on him you can teleport and if your really desperate you can the worst thing of them all…

driving with the Bus to the nearest witch

but there is no way in hell you will be stuck in an overcrowded hall were there is a 50/50 the attendants don´t know what deodorant is

also you hate crowds and you just know Levi took you mainly as his emotional support Human

he calls it a Date but you call it torture

throwing you in a pool of lava would have been more merciful

Satan:

usually a Date at the libarary would be a nice thing but not when it combines the words

Devildom+ Satan+ cursed Library

but you know what the result it is, just torture plain old torture for Humans

the walls are screaming, the books are screaming, the chairs are bleeding and covered in nails the only normal things are the Librarians telling people to be quiet and killing them after telling them a third time

but everything else sucks

so you decided to do the only smart thing you could think of, ditching Satan while he was focused on a book

he´ll be fine though there are a bunch of books around he won´t even notice you are gone

the only time he would mind you ditching him was when you found a Cat but otherwise no care from him

Asmodeus:

yeah you know you should be ready to deal with a horde of fangirls/boys when you go out with Asmo and that he will obviously get distracted by their never ending flattery but man did he ignore you hard on your last date

so mo surprise that after leaving you alone for an hour in a very overcrowded and loud club (thanks to Asmo) you just decided to leave

if he hasn´t noticed you that far he won´t notice you when you´re gone either

and you were partially right he did notice you ditched him but only after three hours… which doesn´t make him look all to good

wasn´t the first time this happened though, this happens a lot actually but this time it didn´t take him long to notice you were gone

one time he didn´t notice you left him alone for 24 hours

Beelzebub:

in this case it was less running away and more trying to save yourself because while you do know he means no harm but fucking hell does he overestimate your stomach capacity

it doesn´t matter how long you spent with Beel you won´t ever be able to eat as much as the Avatar of Gluttony

you know but Beel doesn´t really see it in his mind there exist no thing as being full

which is true for him but only him

so to save yourself from bursting from the seams you decided to pay for the current food he order (and everything he might order later) and just teleported back home

Belphegor:

there aren´t many dates with Belphie and if naps count as dates you would run from every second date

he´s the Avatar of Sloth so not like you could say anything but there is no way you would sleep as much as him without some manipulation on his part

which yeah does make you technically ditch him but you also ditched him on a real date

he invited you to a walk outside and fell asleep after an hour, which is what always happens but there is now way in Hell you would drag him back home so you just left him there

he was fine though, this happened more times than anybody could count and he always returns home in good condition

#obey me #obey me shall we date #obey me imagines #obey me headcanons #lucifer avatar of pride #obey me lucifer #mammon avatar of greed #obey me mammon #obey me leviathan #leviathan avatar of envy #satan avatar of wrath #obey me satan #asmodeus avatar of lust #obey me asmodeus #beelzebub avatar of gluttony #obey me beelzebub #obey me belphegor #belphegor avatar of sloth

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glambots · 11 months

Note

Can you write some romantic headcanons for a stressed reader with insomnia? For Freddy, Monty, Sundrop and Moondrop

Shocked I haven't done HCs of these before with Moon! (But I have done a scenario...Which reminds me that I still gotta fix the Scenario part of my Masterlist rip...)

🎩Glamrock Freddy + "Insomniac!S/O" HCs:🎩

⭐He is very sorry to hear that you are dealing with these issues, Superstar. This must be why you seem so tired all of the time. Is there anything he can do to help? Would you like a blanket, or a pillow? You may rest on his green room's couch, if you would like.

⭐Speaking of, his green room is a very relaxing environment. Freddy likes to spend most of his nights answering fanmail, so you can spend as much time as you'd like either helping him organize things, or relaxing on the couch. Either way, it's warm, cozy, and quiet.

⭐During the rare times that you have fallen asleep there, you'll often wake up with a blanket draped over your body, a pillow tucked beneath your head, and a Freddy bear snuggled into your arms. He just wants to make sure you're comfortable while you're resting.

🐊Montgomery Gator + "Insomniac!S/O" HCs:🐊

⭐Damn, that sucks. Why didn't you tell him you had so much trouble with eating? (No, Monty, that's not...well, he's got the spirit.) After he figures out what Insomnia actually is, it all clicks into place. Oh, shit! No wonder you look like that! (Like That, he says...)

⭐Seriously! He thought the dark circles under your eyes were a "style" thing. Now that he knows, he's curious about what he can do to help. Well, uh...if you're ever feelin' tired enough, you can crash in his pad. He's got a spare couch. Just...don't ask about the claw marks.

⭐Yeah, Monty's couch might not be the most comfortable place to sleep, but he does his best to keep it comfy for you. He's got a blanket. Like...one good pillow. And a Monty plush! So. Yeah. He's doing his best with what he's got. (Which isn't much, really.)

☀️Sunnydrop + "Insomniac!S/O" HCs:☀️

⭐Ohhh, that's no fun! But you know what that means? It means you can have a Slumber Party! And you can stay up allll night! Don't worry, he's got so many games you can play, you won't be sleepy at all! Just trust him, this is gonna be the funnest night of your whole life!!!

⭐Every time he sees you starting to droop or get increasingly drowsy, he does his best to try and get your energy back up. Sundrops, FizzyFaz, sudden unexpected loud noises...don't fall asleep yet! You've still got...a bunch more hours to go till morning!!!

⭐He knows it's not good for you, but he still can't help but feel a little happy. Because it means he gets to spend more time with you! It's--it's nice. To have this time all by yourselves. He wishes you could do it more often. (N-Not all the time, of course! Just...every now and then...)

🌙Moondrop + "Insomniac!S/O" HCs:🌙

⭐Of course, it bothers Moon the most out of everyone. Mostly because of his programming, but also because he can see the toll it's taking on your health. You need to sleep. And when he's around, he's going to make sure that you will. In one way or another.

⭐You will be wrapped up in a soft blanket, surrounded by pillows and plushies, and lulled into a relaxed state by his internal music box and you will like it. If he's got to force-feed you Moondrops, he'll do it. He's trying to help but...sometimes it's a little much.

⭐He knows it's not good for you to be sleeping "on-the-clock," nor is it good for him to be messing with your sleep schedule like this, but...it's also very hard for him to control. He just wants to help. And, thanks to his programming, it's the only way he really knows how to.

#ask #glamrock freddy #montgomery gator #sunnydrop #moondrop #headcanons #long post #sfw #fluff #cute #silly #light angst #none of them are...perfect at handling it #but they are trying their best(s)!#anonymous

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jarmes · 4 months

Text

Homestuck: Beyond Canon Fanfic - Yiffy's Mother

The first thing Yiffy notices is that the woman standing before her looks like her mother. She has her long, messy dark hair, the big glasses, the protruding teeth, and the pointy white ears. Except, she’s young. Younger than Yiffy, maybe. And, the smell is wrong. She smells like dried blood. She hovers in the air, with eyes darker than the darkest night, and stares at Yiffy.

Yiffy growls.

Use your words, Yiffany.

the imposter says without moving her lips. Yiffy winces as the words appear in her brain, overriding her thoughts, keeping her from thinking about anything but the imposter’s command.

YIFFY: FUCK YOU

DAVE: oh shit boss i dont think doggy girl is happy to see you

The imposter’s retainers emerge from the shadows. To her left stands a troll with red wings, curved horns, and a massive smile. Something about her makes Yiffy afraid, more afraid than she’s ever been. To the imposter’s right is a metal man with red sunglasses, holding a sword. She recognizes him from the photos. Dave Strider, her mom’s husband, deceased for several years. He has no face, just the sunglasses, making it impossible to ascertain his emotion.

You’ve traveled far to reach us. Past the plot point, through the darkest reaches of space. Do you know why?

YIFFY: TO KILL YOU

That is what you think your purpose is. Unfortunately, this is the moment is pulled away and the wizard is revealed to be a man, a simple inventor who has controlled his kingdom through endless lies. Do you know why you want to kill me?

YIFFY: BECAUSE YOU KILLED MY FRIENDS

I did. But that is not why you are here. You are here because I have willed it.

YIFFY: FUCK YOU

You are repeating yourself.

Yiffy snarls at the demon wearing her mother’s face. She charges forward and lunges at the imposter. The retainers stop her. Yiffy freezes, midair, as the troll summons glowing hears. She can’t move, no matter how hard she tries. She feels like she’s choking as her lungs are locked in place by the power of a god.

Strider holds his sword up to Yiffy’s throat. With a single motion, he could kill her. If she wasn’t frozen, she would try and bite him.

DAVE: you need to get a cool sword

DAVE: or a shitty one i guess

DAVE: the point is you probably could have hit her with a bit more reach

DAVE: like wed all think you had failed and then you would say youre already dead and a bunch of blood would explode out like in a samurai film

Dave.

DAVE: plus it fits with the family bloodline and stuff

DAVE: youre my niece right

DAVE: nice to meet you

DAVE: i like the nostalgia critic outfit

Dave.

ARADIA: dave i think youre talking too much again

DAVE: yeah that happens

Strider sheathes his sword and the troll unfreezes time. Yiffy crashes down onto the floor in front of the imposter.

ARADIA: if its any consolation

ARADIA: death isnt really a big deal

ARADIA: lots of people die

ARADIA: weve all died

ARADIA: me and dave again and again

ARADIA: your friends are probably having the time of their lives!!!

Yiffy spits on the imposter’s leg. She doesn’t react.

You are not here to kill me. Because, of course, that could not happen unless I allowed it, and dying now would be inconvenient for my duties. You are here because I have allowed you to come here, my child.

YIFFY: YOU ARENT MY MOM

Correct. I am not Jade Harley, although I have been using her corpse as an outfit for many years. But, in many ways, I am more a parent to you than either of your mothers.

YIFFY: WHAT

My name is Calliope. Not the fearful murdered side character hiding in your grandmother’s basement, the better version. A version of Calliope who won. I created you, Yiffany. You would not exist if not for my intervention.

YIFFY: FUCK OFF

Let me tell you a story.

DAVE: yay storytime

Once, there was a group of children, who were ripped from their lives and forced to play a terrible game. The game broke them down, through pain and death, and rebirthed them as heroes. A terrible man, my brother, served as the ultimate boss of this game. Those heroes, rather than follow the path the game set before them, ran away to a paradise called Earth C. I became the shepherd of this Garden of Eden and watched as they lived happy lives. But, one of them, the Prince, was unsatisfied with happiness. He wanted the story to continue. And, to continue, it needed conflict. It needed a villain. A monster, a replacement for my brother. The Prince decided to be that become that villain. He escaped from Earth C so he could spread pain through existence. And, as the caretaker of a conflict-free world, it became my job to stop him.

YIFFY: WHAT THE FUCK DOES THIS HAVE TO DO WITH ANYTHING

The Prince is powerful. Almost as strong as me. He cannot be killed by conventional means. He is a metatextual being and can only be killed by a metatextual weapon. You, Yiffany, are my weapon.

YIFFY: WHAT

The Prince has complete control over his piece of existence. The only way to kill him is with something that should have never existed. A concept so ungodly stupid that, if he were to ever come into contact with it, he would cease to be.

To defeat my foe, I was forced to damage my paradise. I controlled the heroes like puppets, making them do things they would never do. I forced them to create my weapon. First, I had your surrogate and her wife adopt and raise a clone of Vriska. A deeply, deeply bad concept. But, unfortunately, not bad enough. Next, I created your friend Tavros. A child of rape, born from a hero twisted beyond recognition. A cowardly boy molested by a clown. Surely he would be enough! And yet, he was not potent enough. But with you, I created perfection.

Yiffany Longstocking Lalonde-Harley. You should not exist. You are a living plothole who exists because I forced your mothers to abandon their values. The Prince fears you, Yiffany. He knows that you can kill him.

YIFFY: WHY DID YOU MAKE VRISSY AND TAV IF YOU WERE JUST GOING TO KILL THEM

They ceased to have any purpose in my plans. And, when I restored my paradise to how it should have been, they could not have been part of it. Better to get them out of the way now. Besides, their deaths made it easy to control you.

YIFFY: NOBODY CONTROLS ME

The Prince was smart. He removed himself from my domain as soon as my plans began. But, I managed to chase him here, to this land of abominations. And you, you worthless abomination, you heard my words in your head and chased them here. You have never made a choice in your entire life. You are a puppet, dragged around by the string, deluding herself into thinking she’s in control. It’s sad, really.

Yiffy lunges at Calliope, but she’s too slow. The Muse teleports to the other side of the room, completely fine. Yiffy crawls to her feet.

YIFFY: IF I CAN KILL DIRK

YIFFY: THEN I CAN KILL YOU TOO

Correct. Unfortunately, you will not get the chance.

YIFFY: ILL KILL STRIDER AND THE TROLL

YIFFY: MAKE YOU FEEL HOW I FELT WHEN YOU KILLED TAV AND VRISSY

Calliope laughs. I don’t need the time players to defeat you. I am more powerful than you could possibly imagine.

Yiffy charges at her. After a few steps, she trips, falling onto the hard stone floor. As she tries to stand up, she feels a sharp pain in her chest. A heart attack, from years of annoying anger anger. She gasps for air, but the pain is too strong for her to even take in a breathe. She looks up at me, at her true mother. She realizes that I am controlling this, just as I have controlled everything. She knows that her only chance to live is to bow. Tiffany crawls to her feet and lowers her head.

Good girl. Let’s go kill the Prince.

#yiffy homestuck #homestuck #homestuck fanfic #fanfiction #yiffany longstocking lalonde harley #calliope homestuck #dave strider #aradia homestuck #beyond canon #homestuck^2 #dirk strider

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smokescreenimusprime · 1 year

Text

A friend of mine is watching Inside Job for the first time, and it reminded me of a certain AU I had

AU where when captured on the Nemesis, Smokey pulls a Soundwave and crashes his brain so the Cons won’t figure out where the base is. He’s still able to escape like usual……. only to realize that when he crashed his brain, now a bunch of his memories are corrupted and he has no idea where to go or how to contact them

Not ideal

He’s has a vague idea of things. Like, he remembers a decent amount of his time spent in the base, some of the missions he went on, and fighting the Cons, but everything else is either gone or fuzzy. Any time he spent in Jasper or the surrounding area is just nonexistent and half his time in the base his fuzzy at best, and he doesn’t even remember that the kids exist

So he just. Kinda wanders for a bit. And unfortunately can’t transform because I’m saying Knockout ripping the Key from his body has some physical consequences. Luckily the Phase Shifter helps him hide, but he’s stuck traveling the Very Long Way ontop of not knowing where the fuck he is

Unfortunately his luck only lasts for so long, and as he’s trying to navigate a forest and unfortunately bumps into a pair of vehicons. Normally it would’ve been easy to deal with them, but he’s running VERY low on energon and is absolutely exhausted. He’s still able to kill them before they comm back to the Nemesis, but they get a shot off on his leg and torso as well as a solid punch to his eye.

However…… the noise ended up catching the attention of a nearby human. A man by the name Denny Clay who just so happened to own a scrappy yard nearby.

and Denny was expecting a lot of things from the weird sound in the middle of the night. A giant, bleeding robot talking in something that definitely wasn’t any human language was not one of them.

So after things calm down slightly what if Denny just kinda. Gets his truck and brings Smokey to the Scrap Yard

#first thoughts #smoke and clay #transformers #transformers prime #tfp #robots in disguise 2015 #rid15 #tfp smokescreen #smokescreen #rid denny #denny clay #autobots #decepticons

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madswritingvoid · 2 years

Text

Start of Something New | Eddie Munson x fem!reader

A/N: Hi guys! I’m back! Got a bunch of things to go through but like everyone, Eddie Munson has taken over my life. So please enjoy the beginning of what will be a fix-it series with our darling Munson. This is set in 1989 and will hopefully be a fun ride for all.

Pairing: Eddie Munson x fem!reader

Words: 5k

Warnings: none except like one swear, but this fic is 18+ because you KNOW we’ll be getting that Munson loving soon enough!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You take a deep breath as you stare out into the mall from the other side of your store’s doors.

It’s your first day as a manager of Hot Topic, the latest addition to Starcourt Mall’s already long list of retailers. But this is different. You fought tooth and nail to get this job. Finally you found a place that not only admired your less-than-popular tastes in music and fashion, but celebrated you for it - you walked out of that interview with a store to manage and a killer employee discount.

Walking into the dimly lit store this morning you took your time to admire the band shirts, the pride and joy of your store, where you find The Cure, one of your favourites, amongst other bands like Metallica and Suicidal Tendencies. The same people who sneered at you for your Doc Martens and safety-pinned pants will now have to deal with the fact that you’re here to flip their Gap-coloured world upside down. Now other “freaks” and “devil worshippers” could shop in peace regardless of whether they wanted new chains for their shirt, pants or face, and walk out sporting the latest design from their favourite band.

You adjust your lanyard covered in pins collected from the million of concerts you’ve attended, a sudden wave of nerves crashes over you. Would people who needed this store feel safe to come in? Was this the right outfit to wear? What if people came in to harass you and you couldn’t fight back because you could lose your job? You make a last-minute decision to dash to the registers in the middle of the store and grab the mix tape you brought to hype yourself up and put it in the store’s sound system. Letting the familiar synth of Depeche Mode wash over you, you square your shoulders and walk back to the front. Time to open whether you’re ready or not.

The day goes pretty much how you think it will. If you had a nickle for every time a older Christian person called you a devil worshipper, you could’ve bought at least two more coffees. Teenagers come in to oogle at you and laugh at your clothes and the outfits set up on mannequins throughout the store, families bringing in their black sheep child to wander and wonder how they could possibly be in the right place, and the occasional fellow freak who is excited you’re here. Fellow freaks like the one who has been doing laps around the outside of your store for the past twenty minutes.

You have an ongoing bet with yourself if he’ll actually come in. Mullet, denim-on-denim outfit with a Dio patch on the back of his vest, and what looks to be a shirt with some sort of devil on it from what you can make out. He’s cute, that much you can tell, especially that adorable blush that crept up his neck when he caught you staring back at him. You’ve noticed certain songs from your mix tape either excite him or cause him to furrow his brow, almost like he wants to tell you that Metallica’s “Fade To Black” could NOT be followed up by Bauhaus’ “Bela Ligosi’s Dead”. You wonder what song will make him break and come in because unfortunately a hottie is not grounds for you to abandon your store.

Apparently the final straw for your mystery man was “Master of Puppets” fading into The Cure’s “Boys Don’t Cry”. You’re crouched down fixing a stack of shirts when the sound of footsteps approaching land you face-to-face with scuffed Reeboks. Following the shoes up past the ripped back jeans and apparent “Hellfire Club” shirt, you’re met with the warmest brown eyes you’ve ever seen. “Are you the one I’m supposed to talk to about what’s going on in here?” Raising an eye brow you rise to meet him, “what’s going on here is my killer mixtape, so if you’ve come to pledge your undying love for me and my superior taste, then yes I’m the right person to speak to.” Snorting at your reply, he holds his hand out with a smile that makes those brown eyes crinkle and cause a pleasant warmth to spread through your body.

“Munson. Eddie Munson. You’ll have to excuse me having a little musical crisis outside, I just wasn’t expecting such an interesting mix playing in Starcourt Mall.” You shake his hand as you introduce yourself, still not believing you’re actually talking to him and maintaining your composure. Talking to people you found attractive was never your strong suit, but he’s in your store, so you cling to the familiarity around you to stay strong. Dropping his hand you quickly compose yourself, eager to see how long this can keep going, “Well Eddie Munson, I think you’ll find that just like this store I’m here to make Starcourt and Hawkins itself a lot more… interesting”.

With the ice broken and no customers to help, Eddie decides to stick around where you swap favourite bands, movies, and everything in between. You admit you remember him from high school, but your parents moved away after freshman year, leaving you a mystery to those in what would have been your graduating year. Especially since you’re back looking different, embracing the weird things you like and dressing in a way that definitely would have made a full four years at Hawkins High feel like 400. “Of course the only cool person ditched this town before we could hang out!” He slaps his hand on your cash counter, faking offence.

“You have to make it up to me by letting me make you a mixtape. Something you can have at the store or those nights alone, dreaming of the next time you’ll see me under these dim lights.” You pretend to think his offer over but inside your buzzing. Even if Eddie doesn’t think there’s some kind of electricity between you, you know you want to see him again and him wanting to make you a mixtape might just make your heart burst. Knowing you can’t talk with Eddie forever, as much as you might want to, you offer him what you can.

“You’re in luck Munson, I run this place, so come see me again soon and I’ll listen to your tape while trying to make up for lost time.” He slaps the counter again in excitement and points at your face, “I’ll see you tomorrow then sweet cheeks, I have the feeling we’re going to get along just fine!”

Fuck I hope so, you think, already imagining what having Eddie Munson in your life will bring.

#stranger things #stranger thing s4 #Eddie Munson #eddie munson x reader #Eddie Munson x you #Eddie Munson fic #stranger things fanfiction #joseph quinn

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ambreiiigns · 21 days

Note

Yes tell me about "rick's crybaby backstory"! I didn't think this was a backstory type of show, that's exactly what I'm curious about! And what do you mean evil morty?? Tiny rick? Beth clone? Toilet episode? Pissmaster????? What is going on lol

YAYYYYY THANK YOU BUCKLE UP SORRY FOR TAKING A DAY XX HEHE

rick's crybaby backstory. that's what he calls it. he had wife (diane) and kid (beth) for whom he was going to give up science entirely (big deal for a rick, apparently he's the only one who was willing to do that !) enter Rick Prime. remember how the multiple realities and multiple versions of characters is a big plotpoint. yea. this Other Rick shows up and tries to get our rick hooked on interdimensional traveling but he refuses! bc he says it sounds lonely! ARGH so prima kills his wife and kid. oh well. we Later find out he's been killing everyone's diane and in fact invented a device that allows you to kill evert version of someone throughout every dimension. so rip diane forever and ever

so our rick goes on a revenge spree. he invents his own portal gun - apparently every other rick borrows their portal gun from prime who's the only one who built it himself. besides Our rick. and starts tracking prime down killing a bunch of other ricks in the process. so many in fact that those remaining build. the citadel of ricks. stay with me. it's like. idk a space station something where a bunch of ricks and their morties live and or stop by to mind their business. whatever. so this haunt for rick prime and killing himself over and over is what eventually gets our rick, who was gonna choose his family and human connections over science and adventure, to be as jaded and nihilistic and Alcoholic as every other rick before and after him. f in the chats for my man

so when the premise of the show is "rick had abandoned beth as a child and randomly crashed into her garage and settled down w her a couple of decades later" we know that's Wrong and that he's been on a quest to avenge her and her mom for all those years. aight. now it also ties into the overarching Plot of rick and morty bc during his quest to kill rick prime our rick also got in general trouble w the Galactic Federation who's like. big ass space government. and made friends w people who want to overthrow it. so he helps fight it yippie. this is how he meets my BELOVED birdperson and squanchy The Boys™ gang gang. we don't have time to discuss that rick's in love w birdperson maybe next time. the federation seems to be permanently dead rn if you care

by evil morty i mean THEE mvp i think some of the most iconic episodes revolve around him he got fed up w his rick and almost killed him put like some computer shit inside of him to control him like a little mechanical puppet. slay. then he went on to. become president of the citadel. slay. and revealed his Final Plan of killing a bunch of ricks and morties to create a portal that would get him out of the. my god. central finite curve. which we find out it's basically. every universe in which rick exists as the smartest being. evil morty's Evil Plan is simply to get out from under ricks' collective thumb and live by himself for himself. there's like a whole morty black market around the universe bc ricks use morties GOD I DON'T WANNA GET INTO IT IT'S SUCH BULLSHIT ACTUALLY but evil morty is my sweetheart he was right he did nothing wrong. he had a convo w our morty that knocks your tits clean off that goes like "if you've ever been sick of him you've been evil too" or "he's attached to us infinitely through his weakness and our forgiveness" like it slaps. it slaps i'm sorry what can i say

i feel like i end up talking too much abt rick when i love morty so much more but ofc the old man who goes on space adventures has more to be said abt him than the 14yo boy. but i do love him to death he's had such good if slow growth he's such a. victim to rick lmao even tho we find out very early on that ricks are usually SO much worse to their morties but he's been growing balls! he tells rick off now and finds him annoying and gets mad at him and all that! i love to see it. in fact rick is just as attached to morty at this point. it's so cute to see. grandpa's little buddy FUCK yeah and the other ricks make fun of him for that HA

tiny rick is. one time he turned himself into a teen and went to school w morty and summer. i like that bc he became pathetic and kept admitting he's Sad. beth clone is umm whenever we find out beth is in fact her father's daughter and is probably just as clever and violent as he is he proposes to make her a clone that will watch after jerry & the kids while she gets to go on space adventures like he did. and she doesn't decide she lets Him decide but instead of deciding her fucking. randomizes it so now there's a SUPER FUCKING COOL SPACE BETH RUNNING AROUND BEING BADASS and her own dad doesn't know which one is the original. top 10 most pathetic rick moments. the toilet episode good lord rick has a special planet where he shits and some alien guy finds his special shitter and rick gets really mad at him. the guy tries to make friends but rick refuses until guy Dies and then it's sad. it's sad. pissmaster episode? EVEN FUCKING SADDER it's like rick has a bunch of random enemies that bother him pissmaster being one of them jerry fuckin Destroys him and it's so humiliating that pissmaster. kills himself and his daughter's looking for him and it pulls at rick's weak spot so he. dresses up. as pissmaster. and sets up this fucking. suicide mission where he saves people from a bomb but dies in the process to kinda. give pissmaster a. proper sendoff. give his daughter closure. you know. it was SAD OK!!!! IT WAS REALLY GOOOOD

#JUST WATCH RICK AND MORTY EVERYONE GIVE IT A CHANCE I SWEAR THE REDDIT BROS ARE WRONG #ask

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duhragonball · 1 year

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Jaco the Galactic Patrolman Ch. 6-11

Lets see if we can wrap this up.

Chapter 6. So last time, Jaco and Omori were shopping in East City, when Jaco rescued a girl from some hooligans. In the process, he ended up assaulting a couple of cops, which created a big enough commotion that he couldn’t just go back to acting inconspicuous. Fortunately, the girl, Tights, leads them away from the police. Unfortunately, Jaco does a bunch of dramatic poses while introducing himself, which gives away his position. So he grabs Omori and Tights and flies them back to the pier. They ask why he didn’t just do that in the first place, and he explains that he can only do it “once”. Like, once a week, or once ever?

Chapter 7: So Tights returns with them to Omori’s island, and she offers to head back to East City to fetch the groceries they missed out on in the incident. The East City authorities know Jaco and Omori’s faces, and they’ve even distributed a police sketch, which Jaco finds deeply offensive. So Tights heads out by herself, as she already knows how to pilot Omori’s boat.

Five hours later she finally returns, along with all her stuff, because she’s decided to move in. Omori informs her that she can’t live on the island, because even he can’t live on the island anymore. The government is kicking him out in a few days. Nonetheless, she crashes with him for a while.

As a token of her gratitude, Tights also gifts a bit of Sky Gold to Jaco, since he told her that he needs it to power his spaceship. They need 19 million yen worth of the stuff, and her gift is only 3 million, but she figures it’s still enough to power the communications equipment. Oh, okay, I thought the radio was damaged in the crash, but it turns out it just uses the same power source as the engines.

And it works. Jaco can’t fly all the way home, but he can still fly the ship, and he can use the radio. Unfortunately, he’s so excited to fly the thing that he wrecks the carport it’s parked under, and that damages the antenna, so he can’t send or receive transmissions. And unlike the power supply, Omori has no idea how to repair it.

Chapter 8: Tights makes plans to take the boat to Kiwi Island, and Omori thinks she’s going to watch the launch of Twinkle 8, the publicity stunt arranged for pop idol An Azuki. But no, Tights plans to board the rocket, because An’s people hired Tights to be An’s double. This way, if something happens to Twinkle 8 (RIP Twinkles 1, 2, and 5), the real An Azuki will still be alive, and they can just make up some gonzo story about her miraculous survival.

But Tights would be dead, which troubles Omori a great deal. And now we finally see the payoff to this Twinkle 8 business. All day, I’ve been looking forward to coming home and reading the second half of this story, and finding out how all this stuff ties together. I mean, Tights is one-third of the main cast, and Toriyama didn’t even introduce her to the others until halfway in. This manga has progressed a rather leisurely pace. It’s been good, but you’d expect things to get moving by chapter 5 of a ten-part series.

And the thought occurred to me: What if it doesn’t all tie in together at the end? What if Twinkle 8 has nothing to do with anything, and the whole story falls flat? What if Jaco the Galactic Patrolman sucks?

But here in Chapter 8, my fears are laid to rest. Omori cared very little about the Twinkle 8 launch, because he had no stake in the matter. He despised humanity, and decided to live in seclusion to avoid other people and their problems. But now he’s connected. He helped Jaco, who helped Tights, and now he’s finding out that it’s not just some stranger who’s risking her neck on a dangerous spaceflight.

And that’s why she spent all her money on that bit of Sky Gold. That was her payment for posing as An Azuki, and Tights knew it wouldn’t be of any use if she died before she could spend it, so she used it to help Jaco and Omori instead. Omori tries to talk her out of going, but her mind is made up. Tights dreams of being a science fiction author, and a chance to fly in outer space was too good to pass up.

So she leaves the island, and soon after, the same guy from Chapter 2 shows up. This is Tamagoro Katayude, the Chief of the Government Sea Police. He noticed Jaco on the island the first time he visited, and then he saw the reports of “Mask Man” in East Ctiy, and realized they were the same guy. So he organizes a squad to track down Jaco and arrest him. There four other guys on this team, and they got character profiles in the collected edition of this manga, but I see now that they were never important. They just got used because they wanted to have a character profile at the end of each chapter, and there were four extra slots.

Chapter 9: Omori tries to play dumb while Jaco stays out of sight, but Katayude calls out for “Mask Man” to show himself, and Jaco’s ego is too big to let that slide. He responds, giving away his presence on the island just to make sure everyone knows that his name isn’t “Mask Man”, and that he looks nothing like that ugly police sketch. Katayude says that he must be arrested, while Jaco demands that the police revise their sketch of him.

Then Jaco notices that the Twinkle 8 launch has failed, and the rocket has begun to fall. Omori calculates that it will crash in just two minutes. Jaco gets in his spaceship to save her, but he needs Omori’s assistance for that. And yet, Katayude doesn’t believe any of this, and he refuses to simply allow them to leave.

So Jaco defeats Katayude’s entire team in one panel. Unfortunately, that still took too long, so they won’t have enough time to rescue Tights. Then Jaco remembers Omori’s time machine.

Omori has been trying to build a working time machine ever since his wife’s tragic death, but the best he could manage after all these years was to simply slow time down to a virtual standstill. And even that effect only lasts for fifty seconds, but that should still be just enough time for them to get to Tights before Twinkle 8 crashes.

Chapter 10: From there, Jaco’s plan is pretty straightforward. He flies the ship alongside Twinkle 8... wait, how did they operate the ship while time was frozen? Well... never mind. Anyway, he has Omori take the controls and keep the ship flying parallel to Twinkle 8 while he goes inside to evacuate the crew.

Omori isn’t eager to take the wheel, but Jaco reassures him that he’s already shown him how to operate the controls of his ship. Wait, maybe that’s what they did with those fifty seconds.

The point is that it gives Omori a hefty share of the credit for this rescue. Jaco has the powers and technology to pull this off, but without Omori’s time machine and his willingness to pilot the ship, this never would have worked.

But even after getting the crew to safety, there’s still the matter of Twinkle 8 crashing into East City. Jaco doesn’t see the problem, since the city isn’t that impressive anyway, but Omori says “You’re Super Elite, aren’t you?!” So he jumps out of his own ship, bounces off a building, dropkicks the rocket to knock it away from the city, then destroys it with his sidearm. Not bad at all.

When they return to the island, they find Katayude and his crew saluting them. Katayude congratulates Omori and Jaco for their heroism and apologizes for trying to interfere. He also promises to arrange with the government to let Omori stay on the island. Oh, and Katayude also promises never to reveal the truth about Jaco being a robot. Yes, if such an amazing technology ever fell into the wrong hands, it could lead to disaster. Jaco is outraged, but Omori and Tights keep him quiet.

Also, Katayude asks to come visit the island some time, because I guess he likes the place too.

So all’s well that ends well, but all Jaco cares about is Katayude’s promise to have the police sketch corrected. He watches the news with great eagerness, but when they show the new sketch, he isn’t pleased.

Chapter 11: So that’s all, right? Wrong! Jaco still has a mission to complete, even if he can’t return home or call for help with his spaceship. He came to Earth to intercept a dangerously powerful alien invader. As he watches the skies, Tights asks about the alien, and Jaco admits that he can only hope to defeat it if it’s a juvenile. If it’s an adult, the Earth is doomed. Z stands for the end. Wait.

While they talk, Tights compliments Jaco’s bodysuit, but he reveals that he isn’t wearing a bodysuit. That’s his skin, and he’s been strutting around nude this whole time. Well, I guess the gloves, boots, and those ear things are clothes. And that vest he wears. Tights asks how he pees, since his crotch is smooth like a Ken doll, and Jaco squirts urine out of two holes in his forehead. Tights then shoves him off the cliff they’ve been standing on, and in all the commotion, Jaco misses the alien spacecraft as it passes through the atmosphere.

Anyway, Tights asks for a lift to Kiwi Island to pick up the rest of her stuff, and on the way, Jaco tells them more about the alien he was sent to stop. Some whackamaroo species of warriors that you’ve probably never heard of. Get this, they’re called... Saiyans, and they’re from the Planet Vegeta.

DUN DUN DUNNNNNNNH!

Fortunately, the Saiyan who slipped past Jaco was a child after all, and the guy who found him just happened to be a martial arts expert, so he managed to tame the Saiyan boy with the power of karate. I love how banged up both of these guys are. Toei usually animates their first encounter with Son Gohan holding up a cute, cuddly baby, but Toriyama knows what’s up. Baby Kakarot came out of that ship ready to throw hands, and Gohan was like “Oh, you wanna go? You wanna go? Come on you adorable little jerk, let’s dance!” And then they became family.

Gohan names the boy “Goku” because “ku” sounds like the Japanese word for “sky”. Awwww.

Meanwhile, Tights finally decides that the best way to help Jaco is to put Omori in touch with Dr. Briefs the famous head of the Capsule Corporation. He could reverse-engineer the anti-gravity technology from Jaco’s ship, and pay well enough to afford the Sky Gold Jaco needs, and Dr. Briefs can be trusted not to reveal where the technology came from. Omori points out that no one can be trusted absolutely, to which Tights reveals that Dr. Briefs is her father.

So why did she take the job to ride Twinkle 8, and stay on the island with Omori, and so on? Because she needs experience to become a sci-fi novelist, and she’d never get it just living at home in luxury.

See, this was what I was talking about when I was complaining about the plot holes and general sloppiness of Dragon Ball GT. It’s not just the fact that GT often refused to explain a lot of its twists and turns. The bigger issue is that a major key to Toriyama’s talent as a storyteller is his ability to use the characters to ask questions and answer them. He uses it to provide information to the reader, but he also uses it to develop characters and advance the plot.

So when a series like GT tries to emulate Toriyama’s style, but without bothering to ask and answer questions, it leaves a lot of awkward gaps in the story. I’m not just talking about GT failing to explain stuff to the audience. I mean GT never adequately explored how Goku felt about being stuck in a child body, or how Gero and Mu built a replica of 17 in Hell. You can skip stuff like that, sure, but that’s kind of the meat of your story. If you skip that, what have you got left?

But Toriyama gets it, and I’m pretty sure that’s why Dragon Ball Super was over twice the length of GT, and why the last four Dragon Ball movies were bigger successes than Dragon Ball Evolution. It’s not enough to just say Tights wants to be a science fiction novelist. She chooses to go out into the world and experience different things to broaden her horizons. That’s how she plans to become a sci-fi novelist, and it also informs all the decisions she’s made in this story. At first glance, she seems to act on impulse, but there’s a purpose behind it all. In GT, Pan expresses a desire to be taken more seriously, but we never see her do anything to achieve that goal. In DBE, Bulma says she wants to become famous, but we never learn why that version of Bulma wants fame, or how she expects to get it.

Anyway, the Brief family comes to visit, and while they’re here, Jaco turns on the evening news. While Tights was moving her stuff from Kiwi Island, Jaco went to the news station and posed for them just so they would put it on TV, so everyone would know what he actually looks like. Because Jaco is one petty dude.

Meanwhile, Tights’ little sister Bulma has already repaired the antenna on Jaco’s ship. She noticed that the wrecked carport and deduced that Jaco’s ship had crashed into it, so she found the missing pieces of the antenna there, and managed to reassemble it.

Bulma also points out that the ship never actually needed Sky Gold at all. The component Omori found in the ship was made of Sky Gold, sure, but it wasn’t the power source. Bulma believes it was simply a containment device for storing the energy. A different metal with similar physical properties would work just as well, such as copper.

Okay, that’s a satisfying way to pay that off. I’m something of a scientist myself, and I was kind of irritated at the idea of “Sky Gold” being something you shoot with a laser to make a ship fly. It’s more like wiring than electricity, which is a lot easier for me to swallow. So it’s gratifying to see that I’m somewhere between Professor Omori and 5-year-old Bulma, at least in terms of metallurgy.

So they don’t even need the money now, but Jaco still goes ahead and gives Dr. Brief the anti-gravity tech. All he asks for in exchange is some money for Omori and Tights, since they helped him so much. Also, he radios HQ, and they agree to just give Dr. Brief the whole spaceship for free, since it’s an outdated model.

Wait, so how does this work? Jaco needs the ship to return home, so does he have to tow the thing back in a different spaceship to bring it to Dr. Briefs?

So I guess that wraps things up pretty well. Also Bulma’s ray gun actually works. Dr. Briefs asks Tights how college is going, even though Tights already graduated last year. And Bulma’s mom wants to get wasted.

With the money Dr. Briefs gives him, Omori buys the entire island, and he continues to live there, along with Katayude, who’s a much better cook than Tights. I dont’ want to read too much into this, but did Katayude and Omori hook up after he moved to the island?

I think Tights lives on the same island too? She had Jaco take her around some different planets, which helped her career in science fiction writing. Though highly successful, she had one dud novel, which was based on Jaco.

Anyway, Jaco comes by to visit sometimes, and he got a girlfriend at some point, although no one can tell them apart in the photos.

And about eleven years after Jaco’s first visit to Earth, Bulma drops by the island for a visit while on a journey to investigate a set of magic wishing balls, which she suspects may have originated in outer space.

... Which you can read about in Akira Toriyama’s other manga, which he plugs on the last page of this chapter. Well, I’m sold. I think I might just give this Dragon Ball thing a try.

And that’s it. Well, this was a treat to read. I’m not sure if Jaco being a prequel to Dragon Ball was much of surprise to the readers in 2013, but even though I knew about it going in, I found it enjoyable to watch everything build to the reveal.

There is one final chapter in the Jaco collection, but I’ll cover that in another post.

#jaco the galactic patrolman #2023dbapocryphaliveblog #jaco teirimentenpibosshi #tokunoshin omori #tights #tamagoro katayude #an azuki #goku #bulma #dr brief #bulma's mom

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