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#once again maybe i need therapy lol
babeygirlbuckley · 1 year
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kinda tired of all these parent redemption arcs tbh. give chimney a gun
#911 spoilers#hey dont mind me im just casually popping in 👋🏼#but yeah anyway#eddie and ramon last season felt natural/organic but buck and chim in this one felt kinda forced#like im sorry but didnt the buckleys stop going to therapy with him?#youre gonna tell me that 30 years of emotional neglect has been resolved?? like. no lol#the ending was sweet but also. idk. contrived? that might not be the right word#and CHIMNEY#i have NEVER seen mr. han smile. not once. he was cold/distant with albert too but now all of a sudden theres a baby named after his dead#dead first wife and hes sitting on the floor playing?? making faces?? pop pop is funny???#it just doesnt seem realistic to me. like at all#plus everyone else putting the pressure on chim to reach out and fix things is bullshit#hen was so against him meeting with tatiana again. i feel like she was way too nice about it last ep#yeah its fine to encourage a talk for chim to get everything off his chest but like if it was me? if this was my friend?#idk maybe im a bad person but i wouldve used harsher language than that lol#'maybe its about what you need to say' turns into 'call him out! confront him! let him see what hes done to you! make him take responsibili#*responsibility!'#also didnt like that he wound up having the talk with his stepmom instead of the party actually involved#and maybe im remembering wrong but didnt his first marriage end bc his wife died?? he considers that a personal failure?#ANYWAY#all this to say: it is not the children's responsibility to reach out and reconcile with their parents. stop trying to make chim feel bad f#for being kinda aloof with the guy who literally abandoned him in a foreign country#god my thumbs hurt. im not used to this#chimney my beloved 💖#i think thats the tag. its been a while
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all-of-your-mercy · 4 months
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sounds like an occasion........................... where i need to have a crisis :thinking emoji:
#im not having a full :head clutching in despair: moment but also#just questioning a lot of things where im like#i can't tell if the things im doing are for myself and my own interest again or theres that kind of influence that will influence me for#a set time until it's not part of me and it feels like all of my foundation just#falls off again?#am i having an interest and this is a thing i genuinely like/liked and will be always a part of me?#or this is essentially a fixation of some kind that will eventually become fleeting?#what is the difference between a temporary fix of an interest between a long term interest?#am i currently doing things that will be enough to reach what i want and what are those things im specifically aiming for?#i lied lol the more i started writing the more my mind just started spilling out from the ongoing thoughts#like idk sometimes. maybe im just awfully dysregulated and just facing those stages of burnout again. which is fine but time doesn't stop#just for me#so i just hate myself when i stop myself when that's like. part of the therapy i've gone through where i do this bc i feel permanent guilt#for not being a functional human being because ive been raised in a family of constant#need to make themselves worthy through constant productivity#:inthetrenches:#i'm just feeling a mixed range of feelings/thought processes in my head and i can just feel so many#ideas just going through at once; different conversations and tangents going at once#im also probably going through a little bit of like a socialization crisis#im surrounded by so many people but why i keep feeling so alone?#why does it feel like i just regressed to some socially inept teenager that can't maintain his focus for once with people?#im also having a struggle of like. knowing how to handle situations#should i be viciously angry at this one particular situation?#or is it something to treat as a mild inconvenience and move on from it?#:clutches my head:#i hate when these thoughts go through me because as much as i want to just exist and learn and figure out things as i go on#it feels like i miss my bus stop to feeling some sense or understanding things or having a foundation or what to think believe and feel but#but now it's all to zero in my head#i. really don't know how to think or feel sometimes.#i tried every method at stopping myself from spiraling but it just feels so heavy from everything.
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mothhball · 26 days
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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
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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.”
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phntmeii · 5 months
Note
Hil
Im not sure if your taking requests for writing, but if you are I was wondering if you could do a slashers × S/O who is very strong but doesn't look it?
If that makes sense...
Like the S/O is very sweet, short and small, like she looks petite and fragile but it turns out she can easily lift extremely heavy things, or can punch really hard.
Like even harder or stronger than the slasher.
If you could specifically add Bo Sinclair, Vincent Sinclair, (NBC) Hannibal and Will, and maybe Thomas Hetwit?
Sorry I don't know if that's too much to ask for, I just love your writing so much!
Being Stronger than Slashers .
[ SFW + Fem Terms]
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Pairings: Bo Sinclair, Vincent Sinclair, Hannibal Lecter, Will Graham, Thomas Hewitt x petite!strong!Reader General Warnings: Descriptions of Gore/Blood, Violence, Slightly OOC, Descriptions of panic attack/episode, Manipulative behavior mention
A/N: ty anon for request <33 Back to slashers :) Sad I haven’t posted more of them literally in Halloween month but I’m working on it (last second lol) </33
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Bo Sinclair
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Absolutely turned on to the fucking max when he sees your strength.
Small, sweet partners was always his type. He just loves fulfilling the typical male stereotype of being a protector over his partner.
When he turned the corner, looking to finish off the last victim of the lot within his abandoned town, only to see something better.
He watched as you effortlessly were carrying the body of the victim over your shoulder like it was nothing. Head completely caved in, more of a mass of flesh and blood than an identifiable person. Your other hand held a bloodied hammer.
Bo was completely still, but not of fear. He was standing there like a man who had completely re-fallen in love again.
His eyes were shining as his grin grew wide. Approaching, he was nothing but prideful.
His voice was light with a chuckle, thumb brushing away the blood on your cheek. “Shit, sweetheart… Never knew a pretty girl like you was so… strong. I love it.”
Vincent Sinclair
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Vincent was overprotective a lot of the time. He was insistent you were never near his work nor would you be involved when victims were in town.
He loved you too much to have you a part of him and his brothers’ work.
Vincent was slightly startled, hearing the door of his studio open. He knew both his brothers were out.
Seeing it was you, he approached, silently looking down at you. You could tell there was an air of disappointment at you being in his studio when he didn’t want you to be.
A ragged, strained voice spoke from behind his mask, “Why?”
With a shrug of your shoulders and a smile, you walked past him, further into the studio. “Bo said he needed a box in here.”
Watching you walk past, his eyes were hidden but widened as he watched you easily lift up a heavy table to look under it, scrolling past the items underneath it.
He approached confused but didn’t stop you. “Oh! Here it is!” Your arms held up a filled box of tools and parts.
Vincent followed you around curiously for the rest of the day like a shadow. He was completely fascinated by your strength, wanting to see it again.
Once you returned from helping Bo, Vincent couldn't let go of you. He kept his arms around you, head on your shoulder. His quiet, strained voice simply said, "Show me again... Please?"
Hannibal Lecter
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Hannibal always held an air of curiosity about you. Your sweet nature was like an untainted part of his life. A woman so far from himself.
Hannibal’s curiosity was never-ending. He took advantage of his intelligence to learn as much as he could. Stalking, Manipulative behaviors in “therapy”, etc.
You were almost always at his place. He liked it better that way although it provided some maintenance when it came to his extracurricular activities.
Hannibal had been making another of his fancy dinners for the two of you. The presentation had to be precise and perfect. Presentation was half the work for him.
He absentmindedly spoke while you were cutting vegetables beside him, “I have not set the chairs. I will do so in a moment, my love.”
Immediately, you wanted to assist. You always liked helping out. “I’ve got it!”
Watching you walk away, he expected to finish his current task before going off to assist you. Instead, he looked up to the doorway to see you easily walking past with a heavy wooden chair in each hand, easily carrying the two like they were just a stack of papers.
A small smirk curled at his lips as his hands slowed in their work. He whispered to himself, knowing his eager curiosity was not wasted, “You are… a delight, my love. You will make for something truly wonderful.”
Will Graham
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Will was someone who was vigilant and aware. His mind always raced a million miles an hour with tiny observations and connections.
There was something about you but he just couldn’t place it.
But, what was there to prove? You were sweet and kind, seeming so far from what he knew. That was part of why he held love for you—You weren’t him.
Will was in his head again, silently panicked by his own mind. It was torturous to live in a prison of his own violent thoughts.
You were someone who always noticed. Always could pick up when these episodes started.
Holding his hands and speaking sweetly to him to draw him back to reality, unfortunately, wasn’t working this time.
His eyes kept darting back and forth while his breath quickened. With him standing still, quivering, you had to make the choice.
With simple ease, you picked Will up bridal style, walking away with him.
It took him a moment to realize what happened, breaking out of being inside his head. His eyes just stared at you when he was placed onto his bed, sweat drenching his forehead.
He broke out into a small smile, absentmindedly licking his lips, as was his habit. "I... didn't know you could do that."
"Is it a bad thing?"
"No. It's... really attractive, actually."
Thomas Hewitt
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Tommy was always a protector. Toward his family, it was evident. A given. Toward you, it was an inherent need.
The last thing he'd ever want is for you to be hurt, especially when victims come around.
He would lead you and Luda Mae into a room, having you two barricade it while him and Hoyt took care of the unfortunate victims who made their way to the wrong home.
You waited, albeit anxiously. And it only grew once you heard a loud thud followed by Hoyt's yelling.
"Goddammit, Tommy! The fuck are you doin'?"
Immediately you knew something went wrong. Despite Luda Mae trying to keep you in the room, you ripped away the makeshift barricade on the door and rushed out.
Tommy was on all fours, holding the side of his head. A man, you assumed one of the few victims, held a hammer in his hand. He quivered holding it, as if horrified by his own self-defense.
Without thinking, you grabbed the nearest chair, pulling back and cracking it hard against the man. Aimed for his head, he dropped to the floor unconscious by the impact.
You rushed over to Tommy's side, panicked. "Tommy! Tommy! God- Are you okay?"
His arm just instinctively shot out and held you to his body, protecting you in his mind. He opened his eyes and looked past you to see the victim with broken wooden pieces of the chair on top of him.
With his mask on, his expression was hidden. But inside, his heart warmed at how you were strong enough to protect him too. His own protector.
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ineffable-suffering · 6 months
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Trauma-Dumping on your plants: The Anthony J. Crowley Chronicles
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This has been living in my silly head rent free for so long, I finally decided to slap it on here in hopes of thinking about it a little less (than three times a day. It's been years. I need to get over it.)
Also, I'm absolutely certain I'm not even remotely the first person to realize or post about this, since it's not the hardest of parallels to figure out. Alas, I still shall, because out of mind, out of sight and all that. So:
Let's talk about how Crowley is using his houseplants to work through his own Trauma of the Fall. Or, well, maybe not work through it per se, but more so roleplay it to give it somewhat of an an outlet because he never got over it. Lol.
It's not rocket science to figure it out and God Herself actually gives us a pretty spot-on explanation of it in her own narration.
Crowley's plants are perfect. They're, as God Herself tells us, the most luxurious and beautiful in all of London. He takes great care of them, waters them, mists them. Does any and everything to give them the perfect conditions so they won't have a worry in the world.
And yet, we're immediately shown that despite the seemingly perfect conditions they're living in, Crowley's plants still get *gasps quietly* spots. And we all know how Crowley feels about that:
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It seems like such an unnecessary tiny thing to get upset about, right? Like, plants get spots all the time. They're not perfect, they're part of nature and nothing is ever perfect in nature. Crowley would know that by now. Imperfection is the whole point of nature. If everything had stayed exactly the way it always was, nothing would have ever changed or evolved.
Besides, Crowley is a demon. If it were merely about aesthetics to him, he could easily miracle away any spot with a blink of his serpent eyes. But he gets so angry about it, it's almost comical. At first we think it's just to show us, the audience, that, in contrast to Aziraphale, who cares very dearly and lovingly for his books, Crowley is a mean, mean demon who, instead of being outwardly nice to the things he loves (like Aziraphale does), yells at his plants because he's a mean meanie.
But! If you look at the whole scene and what God says, it's pretty obvious what he's actually doing is something else entirely: "What Crowley does is he puts the fear of God in them. Or, the fear of Crowley. The plants are the most luxurious and beautiful in London. Also the most scared."
Folks, this man dude serpent is literally roleplaying the concept of God/Heaven threatening angels with their Fall in order to keep them obedient ... with his houseplants.
Have I mentioned yet that I am absolutely obsessed with him and also desperately wanna get him a therapy voucher?
Because what does he do once he sees a plant disobeying his rules of perfection and acting out? The same thing God did to her questioning, equally disobedient angels (including Crowley): Parade it in front of the very scared rest, making an example of it ...
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... only to then, well ...
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... quite literally chuck it out.
To anyone else, this seems like a completely ridiculous thing to do over a tiny, minuscule spot. There would have been a bunch of other ways to go about fixing that spot.
Figuring out what it was the plant needed that might not have been given to it yet.
Taking care of it in a different, individual way so it would have been able to thrive again.
Listening to the plant and letting it tell you why its spot appeared in the first place.
Telling the plant, that loves and relies on you entirely, you love it too, despite it not being without fault, despite of it not fully living up to your unreachable standards of perfection.
Caring for the plant not because you want it to be perfect, but because you're okay with it being imperfect.
(We're no longer talking about plants here, as you are probably aware.)
Alas, this isn't what Crowley does. Because it wasn't what God did, either. We still know very little about Crowley's actual Fall and the Fall of Lucifer and the rest. But we do know that Crowley was never like or even with them.
All he did was ask some questions. A tiny spot. A seemingly insignificant blemish in the luxurious, beautiful flora of Heaven.
And yet, before he knew it, he did a "million lightyear freestyle dive into a boiling pool of sulfur". Cast out, chucked away, just like his little spotty plant. And for what? Well ...
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... to keep the others angels plants check, for the rest of time.
***
(Addendum from the comments: If we go by what the book tells us, Crowley doesn’t actually end up violently throwing out the ‚bad‘ plants. He just finds a different place for them and makes sure they‘re looked after. So much to him being a big, bad, meanie-mean demon.)
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bones-of-a-rabbit · 3 months
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perhaps a fire does get rid of the weeds and leaves the rest, but the trees are scarred all the same. the forest will never be the way it once was.
aka: even after the virus is gone, everyone is still left changed by it's affects. (in other words, everyone needs therapy 2k24)
Readerbot: just super traumatized. extremely. also has big big imposter syndrom. also also doesn't have any way of venting their thoughts and feelings. also also also, did i mention they are traumatized. they are sad and conflicted and lonely pls be nice them
Sun: is pissed tf off at Moon for Some Reason (that will be explained later), refuses to acknowledge his existence, doesn't want anyone interacting with him if he can help it, is basically pretending Moon doesn't exist, probably either tore down or covered any poster with Moon's face on them. just rlly petty angy boi lmao
Moon: woke up recently with no memory of the past year, maybe two. no one has told him why he's suddenly under such close watch by management, Sun is refusing to communicate for, again, seemingly no reason, the kids are all wary of him and keep calling him the 'scary one', and some random StaffBot seems to hate his guts. he's just sad and confused and lonely pls be nice him
anyway. sorry for fuckin up all ur blorbos lol :3c
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liaarxse · 10 months
Text
Get off damn it!
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Headcanons
TR characters cuddling with you after a fight
Characters: The Kawata twins (separately), Matsuno Chifuyu, Manjiro Sano
Warnings: None, crack
A/n: This freeky AI bot is giving me way too many ideas.
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Souya Kawata
Let's get straight to the point, you know it, he knows it, y'all cuddling after a fight ASAP
Not even a fight, even if it was just a meeting
Y'all cuddling ok? Ok.
He's usually pretty riled up after a fight and has more energy
Tells you all the drama bitch
Literally get out your notepad now
Maybe he let a tear fall here and there, but that's about it
But oh
Ohhh
OHOHOHOHOOOO
God forbid he straight up cries like in that one manga chapter (I can't remember which one it was)
Pray
Even if you don't pray, pray
Even if you are a Satanist, pray
Even if you're a God or a Devil, pray
You and Nahoya both know the shit that's about to go lose
Just stay put and wait for him
He comes to your place as if in a matter of seconds, changing and throwing himself onto you, breaking down
Well, shit.
He's cursing them out, saying how he beat their ass and would do it again, while crying
How?
Idk
Don't ask me they ain't real
But show this boy some love. He deserves it. Caress his scalp, play with his hair, place tender kisses on his face, and just hold him for a bit longer
He'll return the favor as soon as possible.
Nahoya Kawata
Ah, fuck, not again
He gets into a fight every single day
And always comes to your place so you can fix him up
"Hey baby."
"Nahoya your face is literally deformed what the fuck."
Just fix him
Not because he deserves it but because he's annoying as shit and won't leave you alone
Once, he broke your window and crawed into your room at 4 in the morning to tend his wounds
He paid for your therapy sessions dw
Since he's 24/7 injured, he always smells like blood
Like, ew?
Once he came by after a nasty fight all injured and blooded up
You gagged
LMAOOOOO
"Fuck you."
"Sure."
🤡
He always throws his bloody ass on your new sheets, and you go BERSERK
You once hit him in the head cough Deja Vu cough with a broom because he ruined your sheets
He smirked at that comment
You kicked him outside
He crawled back in and trapped you in a hug
That lasted all night
"Nahoya let go I need to pee."
"Bitch hold it in."
He loves you, i swear
Matsuno Chifuyu
Blooded your sheets on accident
Don't be mad please
Here, pet Peke J
You mad?
You don't get to pet Peke J
Loser\j
In all honesty, he's reckless.
Every. Fucking. Time. He comes by the next day you're restocking on aid supplies.
Stg he better start paying up
Once called you in the middle of a fight with his nose bleeding and a few bruises on his face
"I'm coming over later, babe!"
"MATSUNO HOLY SHI—"
He hung up
Your ass went CRAZY before he came knocking on your door
He was injured
A lot
Really
Is he half dead?
Will he make it through the night?
Will—
Hey he brought Peke J!
Everything Is fine
He cleaned up before cuddling with you but still managed to dirty your sheets
"You're lucky my son is here."
"That's my son, pussy."
Y'all love Peke J more than your relationship/j
He changed your sheets and went back to cuddling you
If needed he'll buy new ones
Baby boy, baby 🫶
Manjiro Sano
Bfr, you woke up, and your boyfriend was sleeping right next to you, beaten up
You screamed
He screamed
You threw a book at him
He got a concussion
Great, more blood
"Damn it Manjiro I just bought these sheets!"
"Are you insane?"
Maybe lol
After leaving the room you still felt the smell of blood.
Looking down you saw your favourite pj smeared with droplets of blood from none other than MIKEY
He had cuddled you while you slept personally in blooded clothes
You chased him with a pan
Seven AM the usual morning line-up
Start on the chores and sweep till the floor's all cleEeeeeEN
Imagine Mikey as Rapunzel though
Them dark impulses gon kick in hard up inside that tower
Give him love too, please, #helptakemichiwiththesemessedupbastards
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darkbluekies · 13 hours
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Okay but a darling who has a blood phobia? It comes often with the fear of needles/syringes so after reading your Dr. Kry OneShot of reader being scared of needles I thought about the phobia.
And here are my thoughts :D Hope you don't mind 💕🙈 i tried my best to make it as authentic as possible with all the yanderes!
Tw: mentions of blood, murder, maybe gaslighting/manipulation, phobia
Edmund would be the WORST and most likey cause the phobia rather it being a thing before meeting him lol. But I am not sure if the phobia alone would be enough for him to consider not to kill in front of his queen anymore. Maybe the ball massacre would be enough and only time, but since his nature is unpredictable, there is no guarantee. Although he grows worried when his queen gets her periods everytime...
Dr. Kry would even have a much. harder. time. when it comes to blood tests and the first appointment might be where he finds out about his darling's phobia. At this point would put darling to sleep whenever he needs to take a test
Or oh boy, when darling gets her period in the first month they spend at the hospital? He would come into the room to find a passed out darling on the bathroom floor. At first he is shocked until he saw that they had bled through, a pad under their hand, and quickly understands the situation. He would be even frustrated that from all the 3-4% of the population fearing blood, darling happens to be one of them. Before darling wakes up in bed, he already had sorted out everything.
After that he would absolutely keep track on their cyclus and warn them just in time. He might be even persistent to change the menstruation pads/tampons and even washing the clothes if they got dirty, so darling doesnt have to see it at all. Maybe he would consider doing a therapy if it's really bad, so darling would feel better and won't faint every time they could get badly hurt y'know. But if they feel too anxious and dizzy, they can call him anytime :)
I think it's obvious that he's my favourite *^*
Silas would notice that darling doesn't look at him at all when he comes back. They could smell the irony scent and are imagining the worst so they avoid looking at him at all costs. Only once, when Silas forces darling to look at him, they faint as soon as the speckels of blood appear in their vision and then he understands what's the matter after panicking for good 10 seconds
He would probably care enough afterwards to change his clothes and shower everytime before entering the bedroom after a bloody mission. The dirty clothes would be in the washing machine and out of it before darling comes with their laundry next. Better be safe than sorry again.
Hedwig would feel so bad and sooo worried man, haha /_\
I haven't read everything yet but I think she would find out about the phobia after cutting herself on paper by accident and asking for a band aid. Darling instantly sprints to the aid box and bring it to her. being all anxious but trying to remain calm which they fail to hide (Hedwig hasnt grasp of the matter yet and thinks they are worried about her and finds it even cute... at first👀) Only when darling turns around and sees the blood, instantly dropping on the floor and hell breaks loose lmfao.
Or, on a sleepover at her house where she kills an intruder/stalking classmate/whoever. Darling comes down bc they want to drink water, only too see a scene of their yandere girlfrind with a bloody knife. Instantly dropping on the ground. When waking up a hysterical Hedwig is all over them, questioning if what they saw was real and why on earth she was holding a bloody knife at 3am. Hedwig might have the luck that darling isn't sure of the body, which was lying on the ground, was real too and would gaslight darling in order to keep her facade up.
Jerry was the hardest to imagine imo. So I apologise beforehand.
I can imagine her being worried and trying not to expose their darling to blood as best as possible but I can also imagine her using it to her advantage to "play" with darling or forgetting sometimes that they can't see blood, coming home with some cuts and bruises and darling passing out. And Jerry be like: "Ah sh*t. I forgot."
Ahhh I hope you like what I had in mind! You absolutely made me go brainrot with your stories, they are all soo good \*~*/ i almost read everything by now heh~
If you like asks like this let us know. I would to love share more but I dont want to post them randomly in my feed ._.
They're your OCs afterall ❤ love each of them!
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Have a wonderful day my dear! ♡♡♡
Aww I loved this so much!!! It is nice to be the reader for a change🥹🥹
I'm impressed that your visions fit with mine! The only thing I'd add is that I think that Jerry would try to get you over your phobia by ... uh ... exposure therapy :)
I really liked this, thank you so much♡♡
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kitten4sannie · 2 years
Text
𝐖𝐡𝐲'𝐝 𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐎𝐧𝐥𝐲 𝐂𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐌𝐞 𝐖𝐡𝐞𝐧 𝐘𝐨𝐮'𝐫𝐞 𝐇𝐢𝐠𝐡?
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Part 2
Ex Boyfriend! Wooyoung x Fem! Reader 
Genre: smut, slight angst
Summary: When your toxic ex gave you a call late at night, you knew exactly what was up. You weren’t dumb. He was high again. And he wanted you. 
W.C:  3.8k
Warnings: weed use, nsfw, Wooyoung’s a dick, misogyny, toxicity, fwb (more like mortal enemies w benefits), dom! Wooyoung, sub! reader, lots of swearing, degradation, fingering, oral (receiving and giving), Wooyoung may be toxic but he loves eating pussy, orgasm denial, squirting, deep throating, brief cum play, manhandling, rough (unprotected) sex, pussy slapping, regular slapping, choking, hair pulling, name calling
A/N: I had a really fun time writing this lol like were moments where I had to just close my laptop and take a breather 🫠 This is just pure painslut paradise, so if you’re into that then I hope you enjoy ♡ Also, I would appreciate it if you could leave a comment or reblog if you really enjoyed reading this! I would love to see what some of you thought of it :) 
Song Recs: WYOCMWYH and Do I Wanna Know by The Arctic Monkeys, You Get Me So High by The Neighborhood (the last lyrics of this song fit so well with this ughh “If you can just let me know if it's okay to call you when I'm lonely” like ???!!)
Masterlist
➽───────────────❥
You were washing the makeup off your face and humming along to your favorite song when the music suddenly cut off. Your ringtone started blasting into your airpods, causing you to wince in pain. Who the hell was calling you at this hour? What ever happened to basic human decency?
“Who the fuck..?” you mumbled to yourself, blindly reaching for your wash cloth to wipe your face. Once you could see, you peered down at your phone, grimacing instantly. Of course it would be Wooyoung. Just your luck.
Your finger hovered over the bottom of your phone, wondering if you should just ignore him. The last time you had interacted with Wooyoung, you had fucked all over his apartment, only to end up in a huge argument over the fact that he felt he wasn’t the only toxic one and that you were just as a bad as him. Neither of you could come to an agreement (shocker) because you felt that he was the one who brought it out of you, believing you were inherently good. Or maybe the two of you were just oil and water. Doomed to always repel each other. Who knows. You weren’t a psychologist. 
Fuck it. 
You sighed, silently cursing yourself for being so mentally weak, before answering his call.
“Um, you do know that people sleep at this hour, right? What could you possibly want?” you snapped as soon as the call connected, placing your hand on your hip unconsciously. 
“Come over,” the man responded with an uncharacteristically gravelly voice. He only sounded like that when he had smoked too much and his throat was dry. You leaned your back against your bathroom counter, playing with a lock of your (h/c) hair. 
“What happened to all the ‘hoes’ you talk about pulling? Aren’t any of them awake? Or was that just bullshit, like everything else that comes out of your mouth?” you sneered, trying to get under his skin as much as possible, despite being almost excited to hear how he would react.
Wooyoung’s tongue clicked against the roof of his mouth, his jaw clenching involuntarily. After a second of thinking, he retorted smugly, “Don’t act like you weren’t just bouncing on my dick a few weeks ago, whore.”
You swallowed harshly, a wave of heat going straight into your core. You remained silent for a minute, not even knowing how to respond to that. You wanted to argue with him, of course, since it was a reflex at the point. You couldn’t though, since you knew he was right. 
Wooyoung took a quick inhale of his joint, exhaling, “Get your fucking ass over here. Now.”
You almost choked on your spit, hating how much he turned you on when he treated you like this. Oh, well. You knew you probably needed therapy, but that shit was too expensive. At least fucking Wooyoung was therapeutic, in a way. Not to mention, it felt ten times better than it felt to confront your own issues. 
“Fine,” you hissed into the phone, your eyebrows knitting together. “I’ll be there in 20. Try not to not to nut before I get there.” 
You heard him let out a small chuckle, picturing the stupid smirk he probably had plastered on his stupid sexy face. He, in fact, was smirking. He may have hated you, but he loved this dynamic you had together. And he was going to take full advantage of it. 
“Don’t worry, baby. I can wait. You know how much I love covering your dumb little slutty face in my cum.” 
You gripped your phone tightly in your hand, the tips of your fingers almost turning white. Jung Wooyoung. He knew exactly what he wanted and he always got his way. No wonder he was such an insufferable prick. You fucking despised him, sure. But you loved fucking him just as much. It was quite the predicament. 
“S-see you in a bit, “ you mumbled, hanging up before he could make fun of you for being so flustered. 
You didn’t bother putting more makeup on; you weren’t about to put all that effort into looking like a whole snack. Especially not for Wooyoung. He would have to accept you as you are: bare faced, hair up in a loose ponytail, and wearing your favorite pair of sweatpants. 
When you finally arrived at his apartment building, you put in the door code and stepped inside in the lobby. You groaned, noticing the ‘out of order’ sign that was plastered on the elevator door.
“Great,” you mumbled to yourself, before reluctantly heading to the stairs. By the time you got to the 6th floor, you were a little sweaty. You wiped the perspiration from your forehead and tugged a bit on your plain white tank top in an attempt to cool down. You walked down the hall and stopped when you got to his apartment, knocking loud enough for him to hear from his living room.
Wooyoung put his joint down into the small ashtray that was sitting next to him, before walking over to the door and opening it. He looked at you, eyes squinting.
“You look like shit,” he commented plainly, as he walked back to his couch and plopped down onto it.
You shut the door somewhat hard, throwing your bag onto the floor in the process. You stood there for a second, trying to come up with a good comeback. 
“Woo, shut the fuck up, okay? Cuz’ as soon as I sit down on that couch, you’re gonna be two fingers deep in this pussy. Don’t even try to deny it,” you huffed, kicking your shoes off near the door. 
Wooyoung’s brown eyes rolled back into his head, as you sat down on the couch next to him. He didn’t deny it, so you felt that you had won that time. You picked up his half-smoked joint from the ashtray and placed it between your lips.
“Gimme.” You pointed at the lighter that was sitting on the small table next to the couch. It was too far away for you to grab it yourself. Wooyoung glanced over at you, raising one eyebrow slightly. You stared back on him, blinking a couple times. He sighed, grabbing the lighter and tossing it into your lap. 
“So lazy,” he commented, shaking his head as if he was disappointed in you. 
You flicked the little wheel on the lighter angrily, before deeply inhaling the smoke into your lungs. You needed to be high as soon as possible, or else you risked losing your damn mind. 
“I swear that mouth of yours is only capable of talking shit,” you spat, glaring in his direction.
Wooyoung met your angry eyes with his own half-closed ones, his lips forming into a lewd smile. His hand dropped down onto your thigh, his fingers massaging into it like he was molding some playdough.
“You know it’s capable of doing a lot more than that. Don’t you, baby?” he said, leaning closer to you. “Or does a forgetful little slut like you need a reminder?” 
You felt your heart almost stop beating inside your chest, not only from his shamelessness, but from the way his slender fingers continued to move further and further up your thigh. 
“I-i think I need a reminder,” you mumbled, still desperately puffing on the joint that you held between your thumb and index fingers.
“Mm, that’s what I thought,” he exhaled, as his fingers suddenly moved past your sweatpants and made direct contact with your bare pussy. Wooyoung groaned, pleased with your decision to go commando.
He moved his fingers up and down your slit, noticing how incredibly wet you already were for him. Without any hesitation, he slipped two digits inside you, all the way to his knuckles, just as you predicted only a few minutes earlier. Not that it was impressive or anything; he did this every time you two met up. 
Wooyoung grunted, working his fingers in and out of your cunt, extremely pleased with the squelching sounds that accompanied his quick movements. It was like music to his ears. 
“Fuck, Y/N. I’ve barely touched you and you’re already soaking wet,” he purred against your ear, before nipping it. 
“Don’t-aah-let it go to your head,” you responded shakily, tossing the remains of the joint into the ashtray. “I just-nnngh-get wet really easily. A-anyone could be touching me and this would still happen.”
Wooyoung’s fingers suddenly pulled away from your lower half and were instead used to grab your chin roughly, forcing you to face him. 
“You’re on thin fucking ice, Y/N. If even one more word comes out of that whore mouth of yours, you’re gonna get it.” He tilted his head slightly, as if he was challenging you to say something.
Fuck yes. 
This was the only side of Wooyoung that you actually wanted to see come out. There was something incredibly wrong about that, but you couldn’t care less. All you cared about was getting off. That was probably the only thing you two could relate to. 
You licked your lips in anticipation, before leaning up close to his face. Your lips formed a small, almost smug smile. Inhaling sharply beforehand as an attempt to prepare yourself, you stated, “Fuck. You~”
***
“F-fffuck…! Wooyoooung…!” you moaned out shakily, burying your face into the sheets of his bed. You were currently laying in a head-down, ass-up position near the edge of the bed, your legs spread wide open. Wooyoung was on his knees on the floor, face buried in your pussy. 
“Mmmn…you taste so fucking good…” he mumbled against your folds, his voice vibrating through you. He had been eating you out for over 40 minutes, clearly taking his sweet time. This wasn’t an unusual occurrence; in fact, he always made sure he ate your pussy to his heart’s content before he even thought about letting you leave. Wooyoung was simply a huge fan of cunillingus. He loved the way he could feel your pussy pulse against his tongue, the way your juices would constantly spill out of you, but his favorite thing was how your pussy looked after he was done with you. Swollen and dripping with your essence. Just thinking about it could make his dick hard on command.
“Wooyoung, oh my fucking god, yes…!” you cried, feeling his fingers moving in and out of you at a rapid pace. You felt yourself getting closer and closer to cumming for the fourth time in a row, your body slowly relaxing and your moans getting progressively louder. 
Wooyoung noticed this and pulled his mouth away from you, saliva mixed with your wetness dripping down his chin. You whined in response, slamming your closed fist down onto the mattress in protest.
 “Wooyoung, stop being such a dick and let me cum!” you yelled, on the verge of losing your mind. It almost hurt getting so close to orgasming and then having it ripped away from you, only to start the process once again. 
Wooyoung answered your plea by giving your slit a harsh slap, rubbing it afterwards. He did it a few more times in a row, only stopping when he was satisfied with the reddened state of your pussy. Chuckling when he heard you mewling like the painslut you were, he stated, “I’ll let you cum if you beg for it. Can you do that for me, Y/N?” 
You swallowed your pride and obliged Wooyoung’s request, whining, “Please, Woo! Make me cum! I need it so bad!” You looked back at him, wanting him to see how needy you were. As much as you hated seeing Wooyoung’s smug face, you wanted to get completely wrecked by him. No one else could do it like him, not that you would ever tell him that. 
Wooyoung exhaled through his nose, his teeth sinking into his bottom lip. You could tell by his facial expression that he was incredibly aroused by your obedience and overall submissiveness. Without a word, he dove tongue-first back into your pussy, immediately getting to work. He then shoved his middle and index fingers into your needy hole once again,  finger-fucking you at a brutal pace. 
“Fuck! Oh my fucking god…!” you cried out, unable to think about anything else except for Wooyoung and how good he was making you feel. When you felt him spread your ass and shove his tongue in and out of your pulsing pussy, you began to see stars. 
“Cum for me,” Wooyoung commanded, as he used two fingers from his free hand to rub rapidly against your swollen clit. “Cum all over my fucking face.” 
He was working your body in such an intense way, you could’ve sworn that you were about to pass out. Spikes of pleasure coursed through your body like lightning, causing the edges of your vision to blur. Suddenly, everything faded away and you were floating, in a state of complete euphoria. You screamed Wooyoung’s name, violently squirting all over his face and fingers. 
“Whoa…” he gawked, completely shocked by how much cum had squirted out of you. Wooyoung had made you squirt before, but he had never made you squirt that hard. He was so incredibly hard at this point that he knew he’d probably nut as soon as you touched him, but he didn’t care. Honestly, he was just glad that he could witness you in such a fucked-out state already. And he hadn’t even stuck his dick inside you yet. 
“It’s my turn now, baby,” he informed you, wiping as much of your wetness off of his face as he could with his fingers and sucking them clean. 
You laid down on your back, putting two pillows underneath your head. Wooyoung straddled you, his knees on either side of your chest, just below your armpits. His swollen twitching cock was right in front of your face, causing you to almost start drooling. He looked down at you with half-lidded eyes, holding his shaft with his dominant hand and the back of your head with the other. 
“I’m gonna throat-fuck you, okay?” 
You nodded, very familiar with his tastes by now. Typically, you didn’t usually enjoy choking on dick, but it was different when it came to Wooyoung. You simply loved when he treated you like his own personal fuckdoll. 
Wooyoung wasn’t a monster; he took his time with you at first, letting you suck his dick normally for a while, until he needed more. He exhaled, using his hands to grip the sides of your head, his cock pumping in and out of your throat at an unforgiving pace. You did your best not to gag, but it was inevitable. Tears streamed down your cheeks, only serving to fuel Wooyoung’s insatiable lust. 
“Oh, yeah…Take this cock, you fucking whore…” he groaned, thrusting roughly into your open mouth and ultimately reaching his high just as quick as he expected. You let out a few muffled moans, feeling your wetness leaking out of your cunt like a broken faucet. 
“Shit! I’m-aaah-'' Wooyoung's words were cut off by his own moans, his fingers suddenly gripping the base of your ponytail and pulling it roughly as he reached his limit. He yanked your head back, causing his dick to slide out of your mouth with a lewd ‘pop’, just in time for his hot cum to shoot out onto your face in spurts. You both sat there for a moment, trying to catch your breath and recover. 
“You look so fucking hot like this…” Wooyoung exhaled, reaching down to spread his cum across your cheeks and all over your swollen lips, before sliding his cum-covered fingers into your mouth so that you could clean them.
 “Mm, you're my good little cumslut…” 
Once he pulled his hand away, you both sat in silence just gazing at each other. It was moments like this that made you question why you two couldn’t just work out your differences and try again, but then Wooyoung opened his mouth. 
“You shouldn’t look at me like that. I might make the mistake of thinking you’re in love with me again. And that would be rough because you already know I don’t waste my time wifing up whores like you,” he sneered, instantly reminding you why you hated his guts.
 Sure, you usually liked it when Wooyoung called you a whore, but this was different. He didn’t say it to turn you on; he said it to piss you off.
“Fuck you!” you retorted, shoving him off of you and onto the floor. After climbing down from the bed to where Wooyoung had landed, you angrily straddled him, instantly sliding down onto his cock and bouncing on it like your life depended on it. 
“Oh, fuck…” he exhaled, his hands immediately gripping your hips, as though it was muscle memory. Wooyoung was caught off guard by your anger, in all honesty, allowing you to be in control for once. He silently watched the way your breasts would bounce up and down every time you moved, before reaching up to grope them. You ground your hips against his, the anger you felt bubbling up inside you. Suddenly, you snapped. 
“You’re such a fucking asshole, Wooyoung!” you spat, slapping him square across the jaw.
 Wooyoung grunted, feeling his cheek stinging, his dick twitching inside of you. This wasn’t an uncommon occurrence; he actually quite enjoyed it. As did you. 
“You fucking bitch,” he growled, his dark eyes boring into your own. 
Before you knew what was happening, you found yourself being shoved down onto the floor and your legs being spread forcibly. He slapped you across the face, just as hard as you had done to him, causing your ear to ring temporarily.
You felt your pussy pulse in response to the pain, just like every other time he smacked you. Wooyoung then shoved his cock inside you without any hesitation and thrusted harshly into you, pinning your hands above your head before you could retaliate. 
“I hate you…!” you cried out, glaring up at him. “I hate you so much!”
“Yet you’re you still here taking this fucking cock inside your tight little cunt,” he snarled, his face only inches away from yours. “You’re a fucking joke, Y/N. Just be a good girl for once and let me fuck you without all the theatrics.” 
You opened your mouth to argue with him, but before you could say anything, Wooyoung’s thumb was sliding past your lips and onto your tongue. You moaned, unable to keep yourself from sucking on it. He leered down at you, his dick throbbing against your inner walls. 
“That’s a good girl…” he praised, continuing to pound into you at a brutal pace, making sure to hit your g-spot each time. It felt so unbelievably good, that you could’ve sworn your soul was actually leaving your body. Your mind was completely blank; all you could focus on was the incredible pleasure that was washing over you.
You were only brought back to reality when you felt Wooyoung’s warm fingers wrapping around your throat. Feeling deliciously dizzy, you let out a series of strangled moans, very close to reaching your high. 
“Cum for me,” he commanded. “Now.”’
Wooyoung had one hand around your neck and used the other to throw one of your legs over his shoulder, allowing him to fuck you at a deeper angle. You yelled out Wooyoung’s name, instantly cumming all over his dick. Once your pussy tightened around his length like a vice, Wooyoung moaned out in ecstasy. Cum spilled out of his cock and filled you up completely, just how you liked it.
“Fuck…” you exhaled, resting your head back on the shaggy carpet below you.
 You both laid there for a good minute, just catching your breath. After the both of you had slowly come back to reality, you both silently climbed onto the bed and collapsed onto it.
You felt yourself sinking into the mattress, ready to pass out. Just as you were about to fall asleep, you heard Wooyoung’s voice break the silence, causing you to look over in his direction. 
“Goodnight, Y/N. Sweet dreams,” he mumbled, giving you an unexpectedly kind smile, before turning his body to face away from you.
You blinked, wondering where the hell that came from. He must’ve still been high; that was the only logical explanation your tired brain could come up with. Closing your eyes once again, you mumbled back, “Night, Wooyoung.” 
By the time Wooyoung woke up the following morning, you were already gone. There was no evidence that you had even been there, except for the cum stains you left on his sheets. How romantic. 
Wooyoung sat up while letting out a deep sigh, rubbing the back of his neck as he stared at the mess you made near the edge of his bed. He would never admit it to you, but he actually thoroughly enjoyed the time he spent with you, even though it solely consisted of fighting and fucking. The troubled young man sat there for a while, replaying last night’s events inside his head over and over. 
“Fuck…” he mumbled, before throwing himself back down onto the mattress. As he inhaled some of your perfume that still remained on his pillow, he made a mental note inside his head to stock up on some more weed so that he had an excuse to see you again.  
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farmerstarter · 8 months
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"Songs the Bachelors and Bachelorettes Listen To" Headcanons (Part 1: Bachelors)
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This is inspired by @stardew-shitposterino ! I saw their post, where you can read here, and I wanted my own take on it. This was super fun to write. I'll have part 2 with the bachelorettes posted tomorrow. Also, the wildest shit just happened, I got into a biking accident lol! Anyways. Thanks for stopping by! All likes and reblogs are appreciated 🌷🤍
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ʚ🏈ɞ ˚ · . Alex :
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🏈 I'd like to imagine Alex would listen to the most bubbly songs while exercising. He plays Cupid by FIFTY FIFTY while lifting weights.
🏈 Half his music playlist is filled with music that Haley listens to because he can't be bothered to curate his own.
🏈 Hypes himself up before practicing gridball by listening to "Eye of The Tiger" by Survivor and ends his practice by listening to "The Final Countdown" by Europe.
🏈 Doesn't shuffle his songs so he knows he's supposed to do one exercise when a certain song plays. Like, "Oh it's 'OMG' by NewJeans, I should be doing push ups rn"
🏈 Knows old songs by Nat King Cole, The Ronettes, and Percy Sledge to name a few because his grandparents like to listen to them during the weekends.
ʚ📜ɞ ˚ · . Elliott :
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📜 Knows Sea Shanties because of Willy. Elliott reads on the bench by Willy's Shop while Willy was fishing and the fisherman just started singing. It would be cute to imagine that it happened because Elliott was tapping his foot in a slow rhythm and Willy started singing along with it.
📜 Elliott's knowledge on sea shanties gets even more deeper the more he hangs out with Willy. Willy invites Elliott to join him on his boat to do some deep fishing and Elliott knows like ten sea shanties by the time they get back to shore.
📜 He knows some classical pieces and plays them on his piano when he doesn't want to write for the day. Sometimes he'd compose his own songs on the spot.
📜 Dude goes main character mode and listens to songs by Cigarettes After Sex, like "Heavenly" and "John Wayne", sitting on the sand while watching the sun rise.
📜 He's a hopeless romantic, he listens to a lot of love songs. Ranging from old to new love songs, Elliott enjoys listening to the lyrics to somehow get inspired by them. It's funny to think that some of Elliott's compliments are low-key lyrics. Like, "I wish you bluebirds in the spring and to give your heart a song to sing" ('I Wish You Love' by Lisa Ono) and "Mine to have when the now and the here disappear" ('Again' by Doris Day). And it's completely unintentional. He doesn't even realize he's doing that. He just listens to romance songs too much.
ʚ🛩️ɞ ˚ · . Harvey :
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🛩️ Listens to The Carpenters. "Yesterday Once More", "Top of the World", "I Won't Last A Day Without You" all that stuff. He plays it in the clinic but only when Maru isn't there because he doesn't want to bother her with his song choices. Sometimes, he'd hum out the tune while examining patients. He just enjoys how soothing they sound.
🛩️ Speaking of soothing, he likes listening to slow songs to fall asleep to. Has a whole playlist for it too that's exactly 8 hours long. He goes straight to sleep when the first song finishes and wakes up just when the last song ends.
🛩️ He has a Walkman Cassette Player. He uses it when he does his aerobics classes. Listens to just about any song on it, really. Anything that makes it seem like time is going faster is great. OH. Wait. Maybe, the ladies end up having Harvey's cassette play on a stationary cassette player that Caroline has after Harvey lets them listen to it. They all found Harvey's song choices delightful.
🛩️ He offers music therapy. They're informal sessions at most but Harvey spends a lot of time making personalized playlists. Like full on carefully and heavily curated to match specific needs and moods for his patients. It skyrockets his music knowledge to the roof.
ʚ🎸ɞ ˚ · . Sam :
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🎸 He has the most random and eclectic music taste. Ranges from Rock Music and Skate Punk to Vocaloid and Video Game music. He'd be listening to "Welcome to the Jungle" by Guns N' Roses for one moment then listen to the "Donky Kong Country Theme" the next.
🎸 He tries to copy the guitar riffs in some songs, not stopping until he can play it in one go. By the time he's done that countless of times, both Jodi and Vincent know what song he's playing based on the first few seconds of it.
🎸 Is the one to initiate a sing along in the Stardrop Saloon on Fridays. And he's always down to do karaoke. He's even suggested some more music-centered activities to do in town events. And he managed to convince Mayor Lewis to have him be DJ during the Summer Luau but only when he promised not to add anything disgusting into the potluck.
🎸 Teaches Vincent to play the drums when the kid doesn't have any classes. It all started with Sam letting his brother hit the crash cymbal for the end of a song he was playing. Then it all went up from there. Sam starts with the basics then lets Vincent play whatever. It's a noisy few weeks in the household but Jodi appreciates her boys spending more time together.
🎸 He has playlists for all situations.
ʚ👾ɞ ˚ · . Sebastian :
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👾 This dude listens to Bonobo and Aphex Twin when programming. Better yet, Sam made him a playlist specifically for when he's programming and Sebastian doesn't skip any of the songs. That's a lie. He skips the songs that Sam put in there to mess with him like "CBAT" by Hudson Mohawke and Sam's poorly sung cover of "Fall For You" by Secondhand Serenade.
👾 You know how some of us would stay up until 3 am to complete a project before a deadline and listen to energetic songs while doing them so we won't fall asleep? Sebastian does that. Songs like "Caramelldansen" by the Caramella Girls, "Bumblebee" by Bambee, and "Superstar" by Toy-Box to name a few. Just the idea of Sebastian hunched over his computer with those songs playing while Sam is fully jamming in the background is great.
👾 Listens to the dirtiest songs with the straightest face ever.
👾 I'm all for villagers interacting with each other so consider Sebastian and Elliott being unlikely acquaintances after Sebastian showed Elliott the wonders of the synthesizer.
👾 When his mind wanders, he ends up humming out the tune that Abigail plays with her flute.
ʚ🐣ɞ ˚ · . Shane :
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🐣 Sings to his chickens. He does, you know he does. Even sings in accents when he's bored enough. Jas found out he does that after going in Shane's coop, thinking a stranger was trying to steal her uncle's chickens. But no, it's just Shane singing "9 to 5" by Dolly Parton with a British accent.
🐣 Always has his headphones on during work at the Joja Market so no one would bother him. There wouldn't even be a song playing, he just wears them. One time Sam tried to get his attention but Shane outright ignores him even when Sam pointed out his headphones aren't even connected to anything.
🐣 I like to think that Shane is a fan of Indie Folk and he listens to songs by Bon Iver when walking to work. "Beach Baby" is his favorite song.
🐣 Since Shane's always the last one to leave the Saloon, Gus would let him pick what songs to play in the jukebox until the saloon closes. Even after Shane stopped drinking alcohol, he and Gus would spend time together at the late hours of the night talking, listening to whatever song Shane played.
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No Good, Very Bad Day
Raphael x Reader
Prompt: Perhaps, reader has been stressed and he wants to help them feel better. Even better if it’s a friends to lovers trope where they are just friends in the beginning but this changes the nature of their relationship.
Note: I also love the friends to lovers trope! Confession fics are among my faves. I hope you like it! Ignore the title, it’s very fluffy, reader is just going through it lol.
Warnings: swears
Word Count: 1.1k
Reader is: Female-ish. (one use of the word girlfriend, but that’s it lmao)
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It had been one hell of a stressful day. For starters, your insurance had fucked up your therapy. Your landlord still hadn’t fixed your broken showerhead. One of the customers at work had been an asshole, and it really put you in a bad mood. Add to that the lingering Facebook request from your ex and yeah……just not the best day.
So, a little storm cloud seemingly hovering over your head, you sat in your apartment, wrapped in a blanket, wearing your comfiest pair of pajamas. You had some snacks on the coffee table, and you were playing one of your favorite video games on your Switch, hoping to get your mind off of the everything, even if only for a little while.
After a while of sitting there alone, you heard a tap on your window. It was too soft to be a rogue pigeon forgetting what glass was, so it meant one of four things. However, when you approached, you quickly realized who it was crouched just outside your fire escape.
You pulled open the window and helped Raphael inside. He came to hang out sometimes, but you hadn’t been expecting him.
“Hey, Red. What’s going on?”
“Nothin’, just on patrol. Quiet night.” He shrugged. It took him a second, but once he got a better look at you, he could tell something was wrong. “Are you alright?”
“Yeah, it’s just…it’s been a really long day.”
“Oh. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to barge in—”
“No! No, Raph, seeing you has actually been the best part of my day so far.”
His look of panic faded, replaced instead with a warm smile. “Alright, so how am I makin’ you feel better right now? What problems I gotta fix?”
“You don’t have to—”
“I want to.” He assured you, tilting his head. “So let’s get to work.”
You walked over to the living room and told him everything that was going on.
“Well first of all, that asshole at work can get fucked. It’s not yer job to fix all of his problems.”
You laughed, nodding. “I needed to hear that. Thank you.”
“I can take a look at yer showerhead if ya want. And you’re always welcome to take showers down in the lair if ya gotta.” He assured you. “I didn’t even know it was broken.”
“It’s usable, but it’s barely a trickle coming out of it.”
“Mmm, gotcha. Well, I’ll see what I can do. We can call Donnie and see if he’s got any parts we could use in the meantime. And I can totally have him yell at ya insurance guy, too. He’s real good at that, knows all the legal mumbo jumbo.” Raph walked through all of your problems, and, as he always seemed to, he made you feel a lot better about everything.
“Thank you, Raph.” You told him sincerely, tears welling up in your eyes.
“Aww, shorty, no need for tears. I’ll take care of ya. I always will.” He promised, gathering you in his big strong arms, one of his large hands stroking through your hair comfortingly.
Something clicked then, while he was holding you. You’d always had a bit of a crush on Raph, admittedly. Who wouldn’t? He was big and strong and brave, loyal to a fault, and always willing to fight for you, no matter the cost. He was…well, he was everything you were looking for, honestly. He always had been.
The two of you split. Raph went to work on your showerhead while you ordered a pizza and texted Donnie about your insurance fiasco. Once the pizza arrived and the shower was more or less fixed, the two of you settled on the couch again, putting on a movie and enjoying each other’s presence.
Maybe it was because you felt like you had nothing to lose after the day you’d had, or maybe you were finally coming to your senses, but you looked at Raphael and stated with certainty, “You know, you’d be a really great boyfriend, Raphael.”
He froze for a long moment before chuckling sheepishly. “Yeah? What gave you that impression?”
“I don’t know, you’re just…you’re the best. I really don’t know what I’d do without you in my life and…I don’t want to know.”
His eyes were wide, heart racing so loudly, he was sure you could hear it from where you were sitting. “W-what are ya saying?”
“I like you, Raph. I have for a while. But if you don’t feel the same, nothing has to change. I’m okay with this, too.”
Raph set down his pizza and stared at you like a third eye had sprouted on your forehead. “You’re bein’ serious right now?”
“Of course I am. Why?”
“Well, I just…” He rubbed the back of his neck, chuckling. “I mean, look at me. You’re…You actually like me? Do ya need your eyeballs checked?”
“Of course I like you! Who wouldn’t?”
He scoffed. “Imma need you to elaborate on that.”
“Well for starters, you’re six-foot-five, super muscular, super handsome, but beyond that…you’re sweet. You’re kind, you’re a good listener, and you’re downright gentle when you want to be. You’re protective and brave and the most loyal and loving person I’ve ever met. You make me laugh more than anyone I’ve ever met and I know that no matter what happens to me, you’ll always be there for me. Hell, you took the worst day I’ve had in a while and turned it around in twenty minutes.”
He stared at you for a long moment, kind of in shock. He forced a laugh so he didn’t burst into tears on the spot. “You’ve been keeping all of that tucked away in that pretty little head of yours?”
“Yep.” You shrugged, unsure of what else to say.
“You actually like me.” He stated, letting the pieces click. “See, just when I was starting to think my giant crush on you was hopeless…” He let out a little disbelieving laugh. “Holy shit.”
“So can I like kiss you now or…?”
Raph leaned over, crushing his lips to yours, cherishing the taste of them as your arms wound around his neck, tugging him closer to you. Raph pulled you into his lap, strong arms wrapping around your frame, your chest pressed to his. The way he kissed you left you breathless, and when you finally pulled apart, he rested his forehead against yours, searching your eyes for any sign of disgust, but only finding love.
“Ya know, I think Mikey’s gonna be pissed I’m the first one to get a girlfriend.”
“And Casey’s gonna owe April like twenty bucks.” You said, causing him to laugh.
“So…ya still think I’m gonna be a good boyfriend.”
You nodded, pressing another soft kiss to his lips. “The best, in fact.”
Taglist: @thelaundrybitch, @turtle-babe83, @dilucsflame33, @happymoonangel
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possibilistfanfiction · 9 months
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argument pt 2?
[here's argument pt 1 (i guess lol); u don't need to read it for this to make sense fully but if u are so inclined & haven't read it yet it might be helpful context.]
//
you don't know what else you expected. upon a very quick reflection — once your brain reorients itself from beatrice is so hot — you realize you were foolish to think anything else, especially not without a discussion. but, still —
'what are you doing?'
it's clear what beatrice is doing, standing with jillian in one of her fancy labs. she's dressed in all black, a t-shirt delightfully tight on her biceps (focus, ava) tucked into loose pants reinforced at the knees, boots that are tougher than normal but lighter than those you would typically wear in combat — ones she prefers when fighting because it allows her quiet, stealth, full range of motion. 'trying on new armor,' she says, and if it was years ago, the spike of anger that starts in your gut and shoots up your spine — anger, and sheer panic — would have set the halo off.
jillian looks between the two of you — your fists clenched; beatrice's arms crossed over her chest — and says, 'well, i'll be looking over some specs in... another room,' and excuses herself.
wisely.
it hits you, all at once, when you look at beatrice — your fiance, your life partner — that, right now, maybe more than ever, she looks like a soldier. it's not been lost on you over the years, not with her nightmares and the quiet, chronic pain she bears with little more than a tender wince some mornings, the way she loses herself after loud noises or too many people in a crowd, her usually steady hands trembling — it's not been lost on your that beatrice has been fighting for a long time.
'you can't seriously be telling me you're not going to stop.'
'i'm fine, ava. i was cleared by my surgeon and my physical therapist to return to all normal activities.'
you're so used to gentleness, now, even with demons to fight on occasion and the lingering affects of a holy war too great to fully comprehend. you're used to beatrice's loose cotton crewnecks you like to steal; the rust-colored linen pants she loves, light in the breeze off the water. you're used to her whining for posterity about couples halloween costumes, her afternoon naps with her kitten purring on her chest softly. you're used to dates she plans meticulously that you don't even try to mess up because she's so intentional with how she loves you, full of thought and care. you're used to your big house on the beach and her laugh in the afternoon, the freckles on her shoulders, her hand in yours.
'i don't understand.' you release your fists with the progressive muscle relaxation you've worked on in therapy, then take a deep breath. 'you — you want to keep fighting?'
you're the one who changed her dressings after surgery, who took her to months and months of painful and slow-going, steady physical therapy. you're the one who washed her short hair with the gentlest hands you could, even that hurting the bone bruise along the back of her skull. you're the one who filled the prescriptions for her pain meds, who held her hand when she woke up. you're the one who loves her the most. you're the one who thought she was going to die.
'i —' she seems at a loss, for a moment, and then, 'it's my duty.'
'your duty?' it comes out shrill; so much for your muscle relaxation. 'beatrice.'
she clenches her jaw.
'you're telling me that you're, what, just fine getting fitted for new armor because your last vest got punctured by shrapnel and almost killed you?'
'ava.' it's a warning, and a tired one — exhausted from over a decade. 'you're still fighting.'
'i don't have a choice.' you hate yelling but you're overwhelmed by the idea of having to go through what you did again and again. 'don't you want — don't you want to choose?'
she swallows and leans back against the counter. 'if i —' she shakes her head.
'bea.'
'i — i can't.'
'i want to live,' you tell her, an echo of one of the first things you knew years and years ago, and her lower lip trembles. 'for so long i have wanted to live so badly, bea.'
'i know.' her voice is laced with unshed tears.
'i — do you want to?'
she sniffles and tilts her head back to look at the ceiling; it's a sure tell she's trying to compose herself but you can see her shaking, holding it in. 'i never thought i would.'
you step toward her, wait until she offers her hand. you lace your fingers together and wait. 'did you want to?'
'i didn't think — i didn't think i deserved to. i didn't think that me living a good life would be nearly as valuable as, well —'
'dying young in a blaze of glory for god?'
it takes her a moment, because it's the hardest thing in the world to hold, this grief, but then she laughs a watery little sound. 'something like that.'
'okay, but — do you want to now?'
it hangs heavy in the air. you know that she goes to therapy faithfully and you've seen her cry multiple times watching the sunset; she touches you like a benediction. but the answer is impossible to come by, sometimes — worthiness, and belief. 'who am i, ava, if not... this?'
you remember a book you'd read a few months ago, one of mary's favorites, that had made you cry often — where does it all lead? what will become of us? these were our young questions, and young answers were revealed. it leads to each other. we become ourselves. it's easy, to kiss the faithful gold band on her ring finger and then take her in your arms, put a protective hand to the back of her head. 'you're a fucking miracle,' you pray into her skin. 'you're the love of my life. you're a genius, and a black belt, and someone who avidly watches reality tv and tennis, only one of which is worthy of that kind of devotion.' you feel her laugh, snotty, into your shoulder. 'you're so pretty, and so handsome, and really funny when you want to be and sometimes even when you don't. you're remarkably forgiving; an incredible friend, a wonderful sister. you're someone who surfs because the ocean is beautiful and you want to see the sunrise. you're a very hot lesbian, and you're my fiance, and you're going to be my wife. you're my life partner. you give the world so much more than it has ever, ever deserved.' you both back up, just so you can look into her eyes. you hold her face in your hands, as gently as you can, run your thumb along a cheekbone, the constellation of freckles there that have bloomed in the sun by the sea. 'you will always serve the world, i know that about you. you're a child of god,' you say. 'you're beatrice.'
it doesn't surprise you when she kisses you gently and then tucks her face into your neck and lets out a full body sob. you rub her back through it, hold her up when her legs grow weak. eventually, as she always does, she calms and composes herself, steps back and dries her tears, runs a hand along her hair. her eyes are red but she takes a deep, steadying breath.
'thank you.'
you kiss her cheek. 'you're also my favorite.'
'now that i do know.'
you grin. 'don't get me wrong, like, fuck the military industrial complex obviously, but this is kind of a look.'
she rolls her eyes but her shoulders settle and then she looks at you seriously. 'i want to live a long life.'
'yeah?'
'so badly.'
'it's a little scary, right?'
she lets out a shaky, honest breath. 'yeah.'
'well, we'll figure it out.' you kiss her, the first of a kind stretching out ahead of you, infinite. 'i have an idea?'
she sighs, and you can't help but laugh.
(you watch her slice a plum on the shore of the lake in the alps you used to train at all those years ago, the lake you knelt down in front of her and she agreed to be your wife. the fruit is juicy and a color you can't quite bring yourself to comprehend: blood, your favorite sangria at the beach, natal dahlias. the house you stay at now — a few quiet days before you head home — is small and gorgeous, with a giant bed and a wall of windows that overlook the mountains. i love you here, you tell her — i love you like this; i love you however you are meant to be — i love you in peacetime, and you watch her slice a plum, the juice red and sticky on her fingers. she puts it to your mouth gently and the taste explodes like a kiss. she smiles and you feed her too; she sucks your finger into her mouth and you close your eyes — there will be time enough to touch her later. the water is calm, and the flowers are in bloom, and the sun shines bright.)
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Text
Ninjago post crystalized HC
-Therapy (I was considering only writing that and posting lol)
-Everyone starts finally settling down and a couple of the ninja are even looking into college courses since a lot of their technical skills revolve around fighting and they're kinda sick of that.
-I like to think Jay and Nya open up a mechanic shop together with some silly name like Electric Wave or something along those lines.
-Pixal starts working with Cyrus Borg again
-I think Zane should be an EMT or something like that, since he can asses wounds and work really quickly and has endless knowledge in his database so I think it fits
-Cole probably takes a bit to figure out what he wants to do but I could honestly see him going into psychology since he's pretty empathetic and a chill dude (bestie literally made friends with a snow monster and some dude who'd been a ghost for centuries I think he's got the skill)
-Kai was kinda hard ngl but I think that since he's seemingly ending up with Skylor maybe he helps out at the noodle house? Honestly I'm not sure Kai is tricky for me.
-Lloyd goes into law to some degree, HERE ME OUT, he totally seems like the type who still wants to defend innocents and those who have been wronged and what better way to do that (that doesn't involve ninja powers) I could totally see him fighting so hard for like kids and stuff since his childhood was pretty jacked up too.
-Wu and Misako probably start adventuring again, though more for fun and not looking for answers to anything, it's just to learn more about the world.
-I think it would be funny if Garmadon got a painfully mundane job in an office, like a data entry person or some shit like that would be so funny (like imagine "Oh you need that done? Yeah go ask Folson" and then you find out "Folson" is fucking GARAMDON who's just like chilling at his desk with coffee like "What do you want?")
-Lloyd reconnects with some of his old friends and while they're still a little bedazzled by him but still
-The ninja probably do a couple interviews after Crystalized kinda finally sharing how they really feel and people are shocked how scared their hero's have been this entire time.
-The ninja totally compare scars, like "Dude I got my face scar from literally being turned into a ghost, it's cooler than yours" or "Are lightning scars cool if I accidentally did it myself?"
-Lloyd starts reconnecting with his father again and slowly but surly the man Garmadon once was begin to shine through bit by bit, not fully but clearly he's there.
-Cole helps with reconstruction once his powers start coming back
-They all meet up when they can to do something fun together
-In addition to the last prompt: Sometimes they need to get some energy out and they're like "I need to fight" and they get together to absolutely pummel each other to get the fight out until the next time (Zane has totally recorded a couple of these fights, a particularly flasy one between Kai and Cole is in fact on the internet and people go nuts over it)
-They all pick up hobbies to relax a little: Kai-wood burning Lloyd-felting Zane-baking (he still does it to wind down) Cole-crocheting Nya-knitting (her and Cole fight over which is better by) Jay-skating Pixal-drawing
-Garmadon get's more plants, him and Vinny's new place has the nicest front and back garden and the oxygen in their house is CRISP
-Cyrus Borg kinda adopts Zane like "I already have one nindroid child, what's one more?" they totally have family dinners and I'd like to imagine Pixal's partner (idk who but it's not Zane cause like sibling dynamic> anything) and Cole just kinda siting there with three super geniuses and the two are just like "I forget what I have for lunch sometimes"
-Everyone starts to heal and the world is better... at least until this new show (whether I think of it as cannon is dependent on how much I like it lol)
That's it for now, I will be back, that's a promise and a threat :)
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sgtmickeyslaughter · 1 month
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65+87 please?
this has been sitting in my drafts for almost a month lol, i hated it when i wrote it but i just stumbled upon it again and realized it was sad to leave it sitting unread even if its not my favorite - so i hope someone enjoys my slightly angsty take on the prompt
65 First Kiss/Date + 87 Unresolved Sexual Tension
If it were anyone else calling Mickey ‘patient’, he’d laugh in their face.
But Ian had brought out much more outlandish qualities in him over the last few months, so it's no surprise that when it comes to him Mickey could find nearly endless patience. 
Three months ago, standing in front of Ian with his lungs screaming from the cold air he listened to Ian tell him that yes, this was him breaking up with Mickey. 
Mickey looked at Ian for a second. Looked at his pale, shivering form and couldn't find any anger for him. He was fucking heartbroken, and had to turn and look down the street just to take his eyes away.
“Take your meds, Ian” he simply. “Break up with me, sure. I can’t make you love me, I don’t want to. But you have what it takes to get control of this thing, with the meds or therapy or whatever and you’re really, really going to regret it if you don’t just because you were too busy being a mopey asshole to try.”
 “Fuck you, Mickey. I’m doing this because I love you, I’m letting you go, you don’t fucking owe me anything.”
Mickey shook his head, indignation finally welling up in his chest. He pushed the gate open harshly and stomped up to stand toe to toe with Ian “you’re doing this for you, because you want it to hurt. You think you deserve it, and you think I deserve it too.”
Ian looked so tired, like he wanted to cry. So Mickey just huffed a sigh, bringing a hand up to his cheek, patting it once before turning to walk away. 
“I can’t do it with you watching” Ian said suddenly. “I can't make any promises but if I’m going to try to make it work with the meds and get myself back on track, I need to do it alone.”
Mickey looked back with a huff, he knows that Ian wasn’t trying to be mean, but he couldn’t help but feel like Ian was blaming him. And maybe Mickey was the problem, Fiona and Lip and even little fucking Debbie had told him enough times that Ian needed to be in the hospital. 
“But if I can get to a better place, can I come find you?” Ian asked hopefully.
It was like their moods had swapped in a matter of seconds, Mickey just drew his mouth into a tight line, shaking his head slightly. “Let’s not make any promises to each other,” was what he decided on before walking away, back the way he came to crawl back into the den of misplace objects that had taken over his home and get drunk.
The next morning Mickey called over some guys he knew from the moving business that went bust to buy all the suitcase shit and haul it away. He took all the baby stuff Svetlana left behind and shoved it in the attic, working away at a bottle of whiskey as he went. 
It was like doing an autopsy to see how fucked up his life had become over the last couple of years. Unearth a condom here, a little baby sock here, Mandy’s blonde hair dye-
Mandy, Mickey realized with a pang of horror. Mandy left and he’d hardly even noticed. He spent the rest of the afternoon calling (almost) everyone Mandy knew and narrowed down where she moved to. He woke up the next day before the sun was completely over the horizon and started driving South East. 
Kenyatta might not have seen it in the moment, but he got very lucky that all it took was a bullet in the leg to get Mandy into Mickey’s car. 
She got a job at a high end restaurant, as hostess and then quickly moving up to waitress. Mickey started small time dealing again, making just enough cash to cover his meager expenses. They didn’t really hang out for a while, both siblings holed up in their rooms, licking their wounds. 
Mandy left him alone until he came home with a busted up face after he missed off the wrong supplier with his big fucking mouth. She hounded him after that, about getting his GED with her, going to community college.
“What are you going to do when dad gets out?” she asked, following him to the kitchen.
“Hope that this stint of fucking guys for a few months liberalized his views on same sex relationships” Mickey snarked back.
“Mickey, come on.”
“Or claim there was a gas leak that made me crazy for dick” he continued sarcastically reaching into the fridge.  
“Look Mickey, you’re twenty years old, you have no record as an adult and you should be making an effort to keep it that way unless you want to end up in and out of prison like dad” Mandy said testily, snatching a beer out of his hand.
“What the fuck do you want me to do Mandy?”
“Jesus!” she exploded. “The only thing I’ve ever seen you give a shit about was your stupid fucking boyfriend. You’re worse than me!”
Mickey just stared her down with a brusque fuck you and started walking away. 
“He’s getting out in less than a year Mickey,” she warned. “I’m saving up to rent my own place until then, and I suggest you do the same.”
She was right, he knew that and he just wanted to be a pigheaded asshole for a little while longer so he started scrolling through craigslist ads for security until something caught his eye. 
He lied through the interview, surprisingly at ease as long as he was able to be pulling a con in some way, even if he was just lying about who he was. He was armed with the knowledge that he’d bribed Linda Karib into saying that he was a valued member of the security staff at her large, upscale market and that Mandy would pick up the phone and follow any lie he’d told them.
“You got a job where?” Mandy asked incredulously, picking up the two suits he’d been given as a uniform from where he’d tossed them on the couch after he was hired.
“The Art Institute” He said around a mouthful of cereal. “You know, the big building on Michigan Ave with the Lions out front.”
“Why the hell did you want to work there?” Mandy asked incredulously. 
“It pays more than any other security gig I could get without a GED,” Mickey said. “And it’s like really cool, I’ll be guarding fucking Van Gogh and Michelangelo.”
“Yeah, guarding them from fifth grade class trips,” Mandy teased. “There’s a Michelangelo in Chicago?”
Mickey scowled and sucked his teeth, “you know what I mean.”
Against all odds, Mickey loved his job. He was vigilant enough to keep kids and entitled adults from touching anything they weren’t supposed to, but mostly spent his time rotating with the shift changes, getting exposed to something new and beautiful. Ancient Korean pottery, massive modern canvases, baroque paintings applied to wooden triptychs, and he had a front row seat to all of it.
He had nothing but time to think, he’d start his shift hating the painting across from him, and after a few hours he’d come to understand it, if not like it. 
It kept his mind off of Ian, which was important. He’d be reminded of his ex-boyfriend in a particularly golden shade of red, or the odd bright splash of green, but after a while he’d learned to let those thoughts come and then quietly escort them out without any anger or resentment. 
In short, four months after Ian broke up with him, Mickey was relatively happy and fulfilled. He had a good relationship with his family (the only member that mattered anyways), a job he liked (well, didn’t totally despise), and modern technology took care of everything else (grindr).
He was getting ready to meet up with a guy from the app when a wrench got thrown into the whole machine. He had showered and gelled his hair, putting on a clean shirt that showed off his arms, he was grabbing his wallet from the kitchen table when he noticed the shock of red hair contrasting with the grey of his living room. 
Ian turned around once he’d realized Mickey had come out of his room. Mandy must have let him in, seating him on the couch and leaving him like a sadistic little gift for Mickey to find, the fucking bitch. 
Mickey froze, hand outstretched as Ian turned to face him, scrambling up off the couch. 
“Hi Mickey,” Ian said breathily, attempting a grin. He looked good, healthy and normal. He looked like the Ian that left Mickey in his room to run off to the army, just a little older. 
“Uh” Mickey said, unhelpfully. “What are you doing here?”
Ian surveyed him up and down hesitantly. “Your sister let me in,” he said lamely.
Mickey raised his brows to say not the question I asked, fuckhead.
“Do you want to go get something to eat?” Ian asked nervously. 
“I’m not really hungry” Mickey said stupidly, not understanding why Ian was standing in his living room.
Ian deflated slightly “we could get a drink, or just go for a walk or something.”
“What are you getting at, Gallagher?” Mickey asked tiredly.
“I’m trying to ask you on a date” Ian said with a halfhearted smile. “I’ve been on my meds consistently for three months now so I thought-”
“Congrats, Ian that’s really great” Mickey said, bittersweet. “But if you got your shit together because I was gone, I should probably stay away.”
“No!” Ian blurted out. “No, I got better so I could see you again. I wasn’t going to put you through anymore than I already had.”
Mickey didn’t say anything to that, so Ian continued. “I know that I hurt you when I said that I needed to do this alone. But I’ve been working for the past few months to try and become someone I was proud of, so I wouldn’t feel so fucking sick every time you looked at me.”
Taking a deep breath, Mickey tried to calm down. He wanted to yell, he wanted to hug Ian, he wanted to leave and never see him again. But most of all he saw that he was being given the chance to start over, and he wanted to take it. 
“Fuck it, yeah, let's go to dinner” he agreed. 
“I thought you said you weren’t hungry,” Ian asked curiously, grinning wildly. 
“I can always eat,” Mickey said, finally sliding his wallet into his back pocket. “Can we get pancakes?”
“Yeah, hell yeah. Let’s go get some flapjacks” Ian agreed excitedly. “Wait-were you going somewhere?”
“Nah” Mickey dismissed. “Faceless Jonny can murder some other twink tonight.”
Ian laughed. It didn’t have that hyper, nasty quality Mickey had grown to flinch away from. 
It seemed like they agreed to set any uneasiness aside for the night so they could sit together and share a stack of pancakes. 
He told Ian all about the rescue mission to Indiana, the way Kenyatta charged at him in the living room before he could get his gun out and had to hold his own against the absolute mountain of a man before he managed to get his gun out. He told him about the spring he’d mostly shared with his sister, about the museum.  
“You do what?” Ian said, letting out a stalling laugh, nearly choking around a mouthful of bacon. 
“Stop laughing, it’s fun and I make good money” Mickey grumbled. “We can’t all be training to save lives.”
“Do you wear the little suit?” Ian asked, ignoring him. 
“Do you?” Mickey shot back. 
“Not yet but I will,” Ian said proudly. 
Ian didn’t share very much about what he’d been doing. Mickey managed to figure out that he was working working at Patsy’s for a while, before he started EMT training, he talked a lot about his family, Debbie getting pregnant and Carl going to juvie, but he had this was of talking around himself that made Mickey realize he probably spent a lot of the last few months pretty miserable. 
“So, I mean-this is our first date, right?” Ian asked with a grin, leaning forward on his elbows.
“Yeah, I guess so” Mickey said hesitantly.
“So, tell me stuff I don’t know” Ian said like it was obvious. “You know, siblings, childhood, likes and dislikes.”
Mickey snickered sarcastically leaning back with his arms crossed “number of siblings unknown, childhood was horrific. Likes; guns, redheads, tattoos, dutch renaissance painting, italian futurist sculpture, Bon Jovi, high fructose corn syrup. Dislikes; boston accents, bostson sports teams, men who can’t fight, vegetables that aren’t fried, and any pop song on the top 100.”
Ian grinned wildly, giddy and joyful “That is a very comprehensive run down, A+.”
Mickey chuckled a little, leaning forward and letting out a quick thanks. He turned to Ian and motioned for him to start talking.
“Five siblings. Mixed childhood, mostly good. Likes summer, professional hockey, pop music, thin highlighters, bad boys-hey, don’t kick me!-call of duty, and these days green tea. Dislikes Romantic comedies, football, mood stabilizers, menthol cigarettes, and hoodies without zippers.”
Mickey grinned at his stupid list, and his stupid smiling face. He felt himself getting sucked back into Ian’s magnetic orbit. 
“Would you let me take you out again?” Ian asked eagerly. “This was a pretty good first date.”
Reality came crashing down on Mickey again, and he remembered that this wasn’t really their first date, that nothing was normal between them “are you sure you’re ready for-whatever if is you’re trying to get out of this?”
Ian’s face fell, “I wouldn’t be here if I wasn’t. I’ve spent the last few months trying to get to this point so I could come back to you.”
Mickey leaned forward to make eye contact with him, trying to decide wether or not to trust him. His eyes were wide and anxious but steady. Taking a deep breath and praying that it wasn’t a mistake. 
“Yeah, okay. I believe you,” Mickey agreed. “But I’m not doing this again, if we break up again it’s fucking over, I’m not going to spend the rest of my life running around in circles with you.”
Ian nodded enthusiastically “yeah, no, that makes sense. I don't want to do that either.”
He paid the check and they left together, when they got back to Mickey’s house he nodded up at it with a grin, “come in, Mandy won’t be back until later.”
Hesitating slightly, Ian took a deep breath and paused. “So, I’m totally ready to start dating you, totally ready. And I’ll come up to watch a movie or play video games or just hang out, but I don’t to have sex tonight, or for a little while.”
Looking down at his crotch automatically, Mickey pulled a questioning face. 
“It works,” Ian supplied with a blush. “It’s back up and running and everything. I just-once I could finally think clearly, I started getting this really uncomfortable feeling like my body isn’t mine, because I didn’t make choices I’m proud of, all the time. I’m still kind of struggling with that so if we can just go out and not fuck for a while that would be great for me, but-”
“Ian chill out. That’s fine, we can hang out.” Mickey said urgently. “You’ll want to eventually though, right? ‘Cause if this is a never again thing we'll need to figure-”
“No! No, definitely not never again, just like give me a couple weeks” Ian amended.
“Yeah, that’s fine. However long you need” Mickey agreed, walking up the stairs, “come on, I’m gonna’ kick your ass at the new grand theft auto just as bad as all the others.”
------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Ian groaned and flopped down on Mandy’s purple comforter.
“What’s got you all moody?” Mandy asked, uncapping a bottle of nail polish. 
“Your fucking brother won’t get naked for me” Ian whined.
“Ew! Jesus Ian” Mandy shrieked. “Just apologize for whatever he’s pissed about.”
“He’s not pissed,” Ian insisted. “Why would he be pissed?”
“I don’t know, why else would he be holding out on you?”
“On first date after we broke up, I mean-I guess that was our first date period, I told him I wanted to take it slow, at least with sex. After everything I’d done before getting diagnosed I just-didn’t want to jump into a physical relationship right away” Ian explained. 
“Yeah, that makes sense,” Mandy agreed. 
“Yeah but that was almost three months ago and I have been very ready for a while and making it very fucking clear, but every time he shuts me down.”
“Shuts you down how?” She asked noncommittally, carefully painting her big toe. 
“The other night we were making out on the couch so I was trying to take his shirt off and he just pulled it down and looked at me like I was trying to fucking deflower him.”
Mandy let out a laugh, moving on to her other foot “have you tried telling him point blank that you wanna’ bang?”
“Kind of, not in so many words but I’ve tried to imply, in a seductive way, that I am really, really beyond ready and that by balls are starting to hurt.”
“You’re just being dramatic,” Mandy dismissed. “Just tell him what you’re telling me, which is what you should have done a week ago.”
“Yeah, I should have just told him. But now it’s like, weird. Like it’s weird that he’s purposely ignoring the like, big neon sign stuck to my forehead that basically screams I’m horny.”
“Maybe he’s not ready,” she said disinterestedly.
“He was three months ago,” Ian said, eye brows drawn. “So you think I’ve like, turned him off?”
“I have no idea, Ian!” She exclaimed. “I’ve already talked about my brother’s sex life way more than I wanted to this afternoon, it’s weird that you guys sleep in the same bed every other night but don’t have sex. And if you’re not the one with the problem, maybe he is.”
Ian laid back, deep in thought until Mandy kicked him out so she could get ready to work. Mickey got back an hour later, dressed in his dark suit. It didn’t fit him perfectly, but it made the darkness of his hair and eyelashes stand out even more. 
He said hi to Ian quickly before disappearing into his bedroom, unaware of Ian perking up and following him. “Mickey?” He asked curiously through the door. “Can I ask you something?”
“Hold on,” came a muffled reply.
“Can I just come in?” Ian asked impatiently. 
He waited a beat, then Mickey came out fully dressed in jeans and a teeshirt “jesus, where’s  the fire?”
“Why won’t you have sex with me?” Ian blurted out. “I mean, we both want to, unless I’m reading the signs wrong but the sexual tension feels pretty fuckin’ intense.”
Mickey licked his lips and looked away, “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” 
“You don’t know what I’m talking about?” Ian asked incredulously. “So you’re going to pretend that I haven't been basically practically jumping you every night for the last few weeks?”
“Whatever, you’re the one who didn’t want to have sex” Mickey shot back defensively. “You haven't said anything else since and I know I can be-y'know a little pushy, so I backed the fuck off.”
Ian moved forward quickly, moving to bring both hands up to Mickey’s cheeks and pulling him close before allowing his hands to travel downward slowly until he could tuck his hands comfortably into the back pockets of his jeans. “I get that it’s been weird not having sex, and I really appreciate you being so considerate, but if it’s alright with you I’d like to to back into your bedroom and suck your dick to say thank you for your extraordinary patience.”
From this close, Ian got to actually feel the affect this words had on his boyfriend and watch as his cheeks flushed and pupils dilated sightly. “Yeah,” Mickey nodded, nonchalant like his voice didn’t pitch up a couple octaves. “Yeah, I mean you can do that, if you want.”
Smiling, Ian ran a hand up his back so that he could lead Mickey back through the doorway by the back of his head, rubbing and rocking it lightly, stomach flipping in excitement.  
Believe me - I will be revisiting museum security guard mickey again, taking down heists, helping lost kids, and knowing where all the major pieces are so when wimpy little art students like me come in looking for specific pieces he can give directions -the possibilities are endless.
link to AO3
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six-white-venus · 3 months
Text
if you ever see him, there is just one thing you would like to ask him:
how do i forgive?
because you've been trying, lord knows you have. it's been a year. he never loved you. it's as easy as that. why can't it be as easy as that?
you recently came across a letter you wrote him after he left, one where you're begging him to come back. you tore the paper copy into shreds a long time ago, but this one must have escaped your notice. you remember his response to the message. a thumbs-up emoji.
"whose name will i call, a thousand times over?" it said, "who will I call my love, my love, my love- exasperated, scandalised, laughing? who will I call?"
it's been a year and you know the answer to that question, more or less. no one. you will call no one. you will sit and stare at the paint peeling off your wall, that ugly, powdery blue that has started making your skin crawl. you will sit on the cold kitchen floor till your mom pulls you to your feet and brings you tea. you will call no one. you will make yourself forget.
except, it's not that easy.
he pops up in every mundane aspect of your life. the other day you found a keychain you bought him a month before his birthday, a month before he left you. you give it to someone else because why waste money? it's not like he lives in it.
(but he does, he does, he does.)
he is dating someone you used to know. you don't care. you want to throw up. you just want to ask: how do I forget?
a friend recently asked you, "do you think you had a savior complex, when it came to him?" you said you didn't, but maybe that's not the whole truth. maybe you did have some sort of twisted need to save him in every single way possible just so that he'll love you.
i would help you stitch yourself up. i swear i won't scream when you gut me like a fish. i will feed you soup and keep you warm. i won't sob when you knock my portion to the floor. you bleed. i do, too. no, you're right. i don't bleed as you do. I'll never understand. i am so sorry. i love you. do you love me?
after a week, you receive two texts:
lol kys ily <3
you are so happy you could sob.
he does none of this now, apparently. he smiles instead of smirking. he cradles things. he tends to wounds. he calls her baby. he says, "I love you so much." the whole thing, all spelled out. how crazy is that?
and you just want to ask: how do I stop caring?
he always held you between his teeth. there was nothing gentle about it. the bite marks on the back of your neck still hurt and you could swear it still bleeds. your mom says you're imagining it. you must be.
but here's the thing! you have people who hold you in their arms now. they are so gentle, so careful with you. you didn't cry, not once, under the clutch of his canines but now in their arms, all you do is cry. it's so strange. and you really are happy. it's so much better than what it used to be. you wake up and he's not the first thing you think of, not anymore. you dream that he apologises to you (you forgive him every single time). you go to therapy. you don't remember the last time you cried over him. you are loved, but not by him. you never were.
it doesn't matter, because you know what love feels like now. it is popcorn and nacho cheddar cheese seasoning and mutton curry. it tastes like tea and chips in an orange package and instant noodles you made with your best friend the day before she left for college. you know love now. you know happiness.
but in moments like these, you can't stop yourself from thinking that if you see him again, you would like to ask him one last thing:
how do you stop missing being held between one's teeth?
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salon-maiden-anabel · 2 months
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the more i think about your mom lucy hc, the more i really adore it. if you don't mind me asking questions about it, what's her general dynamic with kieran & carmine? is she a single mom? how does dahlia fit into the picture?
SORRY THIS TOOK SO LONG TO REPLY TO MY BRAINS BEEN. TRYING . the thoughts are disconnected but by god there are thoughts everything below the readmore
But! Hi hello welcome to Oh lord this family needs therapy and counselling . ! Honestly I have been going into everything with the idea of her being a single mom w/ them! It;s very much a situation of like.... Parent that works away from home constantly, so the relationship is just unfortunately naturally more strained kinda thing .
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With all this i go with like.... The idea that they were very much born in Hoenn and lived there with Lucy until Carmine was approximately 9 or so, and Kieran was 7 [I do like to imagine they're 16 and 14 respectively as of the dlcs]. Work being so remote and stuff plus worrying about their education and all just led to living with their grandparents in Kitakami being the best decision for their development as yknow, People. I like to imagine Lucy visits periodically throughout the year and such to check in :> just takes a bit of coordinating. Also shes absolutely the reason they're able to go to blueberry for highschool via both making sure they Can go there financially and putting a word in to a battle focused school of them being kids of a facility head :p even if realistically Lucy isnt the strongest head by any means lol . it's kinda like if an E4 member put a good word in situation. And we can see with Lacey and Drayton both going there... gestures. I wouldnt be surprised if more children of different league figures go to it or schools LIKE it. But thats besides the point Lucy absolutely like, struggles with her emotions and such. Even from the small bits of dialogue we have from her? Maybe its just my autistic ass reading too much into it LMAO but . gestures .
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i feel like if this werent a kids game she'd just tell you to fuck off to your face here
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sorry just more quick looking too much into dialogue but. cmon. CMON. ...She's . definitely influenced how carmine and kieran act at least somewhat .
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Carmine might be the easiest to point a finger to as being like her mom but i genuinely think that it;s actually Kieran who ended up the most Like her, yknow it;s incredibly obvious to point a finger at Kieran during indigo disk and how he talks as being her fault a little bit :p anyways thats just me vaguely mumbling abt that. AS FOR. DYNAMICS. Kieran isnt as close to his mom as Carmine is just due to everything with living with their grandparents. Theres also absolutely like.... Very much a gap because he stopped seeing her as much when he was younger, while Carmine was only a year off of being like. Legally start being a pokemon trainer age. And its just Awkward, relation wise, just because of how little she actually sees them through the years, especially when the discussion would slowly shift to more "How are your studies?" "How are you doing in school?" "How is your pokemon training going?" once they start going to blueberry. Which i don't think was ment to come off as uncaring for them and only focusing on training as it did from Lucy's end, but I dont really think she knew what else to ask and all, because she stopped being able to really pick up on their interests as much as they got older. Plus thats just kinda How she talks... With the importance on strength and luck n all that. Then with all this I imagine she like. Probably only called once maybe twice between the dlc plots n all? And once again with just mainly the training questions it was just a sour spot. I wouldn't doubt Kieran would also struggle with not wanting to be in a shadow/the nepo baby accusations /j that I fully think if Drayton knows about he'd tease him and Carmine about. So like. All that with the instilled importance of ones strength :sob: Lucy you were not helping the Kieran situation. Hell I don't really think she would of even known about anything going down between Kitakami to Blueberry with Kieran just because neither of them wanted to tell her at all? Because again just that Awkward connection between them, just the permanent fog on all communication that feels like someone said something wrong at all times and it got too awkward to finish. IDK I think im waffling on I don't know how to formulate my thoughts the best LMFAO BUT I THINK... DYNAMICS WOULD CHANGE POST-MOCHI MAYHEM ESP. Bc i KNOW she'd find out after carmine and kieran nearly fucking DIE in the underdepths and everything hits her in the back of her head at once that she needs to repair what she can w/ them because she almost lost them. Probably means taking an extended leave from working at the Pike so she doesn't have to worry about scheduling to see them in person for only a short period of time. Especially if the times line up for them having any extended break from school . It's never going to be perfect, far from it, with their dynamics and all but. gestures. Briar needs to sleep with one eye open for a bit at least. in short
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AS FOR. DAHLIA im in turbo hell because I can not see? the siblings ending up like they did if she was also around? Shes such a force of positivity as a person im just. blinks a bit. Im in hell bc i adore the ship as my big rarepair ill die on a hill for but nobody expected the kitakami siblings especially not me so . i think if they ever do get together it'd be somewhere nearer to scarvio era which just. yeah. see image below
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