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undreaming-fanfiction · 5 months ago

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Second Chances

Written for @steddieangstyaugust challenge, day 1.

The world was dying. Not just Hawkins, but the whole world, invaded by the creatures of the Upside Down, the particles that made people sick, killed crops, infected water...if it wasn't the end, then it was damn close.

Steve often thought about the moment everything went to shit. Even when Barb died, when Bob died, when the whole mall burned down, there was at least a shred of hope. Even when Chrissy got lifted in the air and her limbs broke like an unwanted doll, there was a plan, something to do. A chance to make things right for the rest of them. It wasn't difficult to pinpoint the point of no return - Eddie dying.

Here was the thing. Steve didn't really believe in time travel, and he was way too high on the Russian truth serum to even consider what it would entail if it ever proved to be true.

Lo and behold, the Hawkins lab of 1990, infected by the creeping decay of the Upside Down, made it possible. Steve found himself transported back to the day of their failed mission to kill Henry. But not just normally transported - inserted into the mind of his younger self, one that wasn't scarred, limping, and on the verge of giving up. And that was great. Steve thrived when he had something to do, and keeping Eddie alive was something to do.

He didn't really care about his real time. If erasing his present meant saving Murray from getting torn in half, Jonathan and Nancy nearly bleeding out, Robin losing her eyesight, and always seeing Dustin's blank, hopeless stare, well. That was fine. He hated to see people he loved suffer. Hence the operation "Save Munson from his heroic awakening and keeping that stupid walkman intact."

It should have been easy. He prepared everyone. He told Eddie what would happen. He instructed Lucas and Erica to ensure Max lived too. He explained that Eddie wouldn't make a difference, but Dustin would mourn him forever and never recover. Eddie nodded, agreed.

Max was saved.

And Eddie got fucking killed again.

Steve got snapped back to the portal in his present with angry tears still in his eyes. "Oh no, you don't!" he muttered and dove in again. The combined mission of "save Max and Eddie" was now just "make Eddie stop dying."

He tried sending Eddie to the Creel house in his place. Explained again, with more detail. But did that rocker wannabe asshole listen? No! The first rustle of demobat wings and he was back, being torn to shreds.

No. That wouldn't do. Again.

Dustin had tried explaining time loops to Steve, but even in his limited understanding, he didn't consider this one. He wasn't trapped anywhere, fucking Eddie Munson was trapped there with him, in a repeated self-worth session that went "self-destruction is a no-no."

Still, he kept dying. And Steve kept trying. No one was going to out-stubborn Steve Harrington.

And finally, one miraculous day, it worked out. Eddie didn't die, Steve did. He felt the familiar "whoosh" of being dragged to his real time, terrified but excited to see what awaited him after, and then...

Then he was back at their makeshift camp in March 1986.

Steve didn't understand. He was staring at the all too familiar scene when a calloused hand grabbed his shoulder and dragged him away. "A word, your majesty."

"Munson, what the-!"

It was Eddie, of course. He'd seen him so many times, talked to him so often, learned about his life, his childhood, his love for Wayne...but there was something different this time. Eddie's eyes seemed much older.

"I know what you're trying to do here, Harrington, and it isn't happening, hear me?" he hissed, and Steve finally understood what seemed so off. Eddie always looked scared, no matter which attempt, no matter Steve's words or actions. But now, Eddie Munson seemed determined. Angry.

Steve shook off his hand. "What do you mean not happening, Munson?" he whispered, fighting for the last shred of self-control. "Saving the future, that isn't happening? Huh?"

Suddenly, his head snapped back. It took him a good moment to understand that Eddie hit him. "Is that what you call it?!" Eddie hissed back, then snuck a quick glance at the rest of their group. Fortunately no one noticed yet. "Do you even know what you did, Harrington? You fucking died. And everything went to shit."

Glaring at Eddie, Steve rubbed at his sore cheek. "You want to talk about things going to shit?! Do you even know what happens after you die?! People get hurt. People lose hope. And Dustin has never recovered, so there! You have to stay alive no matter what."

Eddie threw his head back and laughed, but it had no joy in it. "Oh really. Well, have you spared a single thought about how he feels, knowing you died to fix the past? How Robin feels?! Do you think that everyone is alive in the future you have so graciously created?! No, Steven. Things are shit and can't be unshitted."

That gave Steve a pause. "Wait. What do you mean, everyone isn't alive? Who died?"

Eddie scowled at him and crossed his arms. "I'm not telling you. Let's just agree that the future when I'm dead is the better one. Deal?"

"No fucking deal." Steve pinched the bridge of his nose, frowning at the forest ground. "What the hell, man. This was supposed to fix things! Even with Max alive, it's still the same?"

"Yep. Not just the same. Worse. I don't know how to explain it, but...they just need you. Without you, it doesn't work."

"Well, without you it doesn't work either!" Steve spat back. "What am I supposed to do now?"

Eddie shrugged. "I don't know. If things go to shit, the portal will activate anyway, right? So one of us will make it there, if at least one of us lives. So how about we both try to live this time?"

Sighing, Steve nodded. "I've tried everything else, so we might as well. As long as you stop sabotaging my future fixing or whatever by dying."

Eddie grinned and offered Steve his hand, knuckles still red from punching Steve. "Shake on it. No pointless heroisms!"

"If you can keep your word, I'll keep mine, Munson."

...

It wasn't on their first try, not even on the tenth or twentieth. One of them would always found themselves at the portal, jump in, repeat.

And then, by pure chance and a truck load of luck...they lived.

Well, their younger selves did.

Steve sat down on the grimy dead grass of the Upside Down, his limbs heavy. "I think we did it," he told Eddie as he landed next to him. "Something changed."

"Yep. I think..." Eddie trailed off, his voice quieter, weaker. "I think we avoided our futures. Which both sucked, by the way. But that also means..."

"It means we don't exist either," nodded Steve. "I thought so. We'll be gone soon, I guess." He leaned against Eddie, slumping against his shoulder. "It was an honor saving the world with you, Munson."

Eddie laid his head over Steve's nodding. "Likewise, Harrington. I'm kinda bummed we won't see the new future. But I sure hope it's a better one."

Closing their eyes, they let the time take its course.

...

In the new 1990, Eddie Munson woke up next to his boyfriend, Steve Harrington. It was the favorite part of his week, the one free day they shared, when they could cuddle and trade lazy kisses. Eddie was a hedonist by nature, and while he did his best to understand Steve's morning runs, he managed to persuade him that after saving the world, they deserved the one peaceful day only for themselves.

Steve was quiet that morning, and Eddie, always the inquisitive one, had to ask. "What's on your mind, love?"

"I just keep thinking about...you know. That day in March," whispered Steve, running his fingers through Eddie's hair. "I still don't remember it. You don't. But everyone else does. I'm just wondering if it's just a coincidence, that we blanked out and everything went just right."

Eddie smiled at him, but his eyes were serious. "I try not to think about it much," he admitted. "I don't want to jinx it, what we have. I won't look the gift dragon in the mouth. I'd like to think we were possessed by a divine inspiration or something."

Steve snorted and pulled him closer. "What, like angels?"

"Sure. We were possessed by our guardian angels and they made sure we'd survive, fix the world...and have this. Us."

Laughing, Steve pulled Eddie into a kiss. "I'll take it. Guardian angels, wherever you are and if you even exist...thank you."

Eddie snuggled closer and nodded into Steve's hair. "Thank you for everything."

#steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #stranger things #steddieangstyaugust #steddie fanfiction #steddie drabble #am I writing again?#let's not get too hasty #but trying #not proofread we die like my immune system because SOMEONE IS ON SICK LEAVE AGAIN

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caesariawritesstuff · 6 months ago

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Damaged Goods

Summary: When Jonathan Crane comes to work for the GCPD, he sets his sights on the young detective who's involved with Edward Nigma.

Content Warning: Angst & Jealousy, Possessive Behavior, Minor spoilers for Cat & Mouse

Word Count: 6.7k

Note: This fic is purely self-indulgent and currently not canon to the official Cat & Mouse!Verse...but it might be! The Jonathan x Detective brain rot is real and this desperately needed to be on the page.

Following in the path of Edward Nigma was something Jonathan Crane had never quite pictured himself doing. He did not have the same weakness Edward did: he was not bound by an ego so large that it ruled his every move, or an obsession with riddles and puzzles. Jonathan was immune to such weakness. While, of course, one could say his own obsession was with fear – he did not considered that obsession to be a weakness, to be something that held him down. His obsession made him stronger, made him more capable than the others around him – it was simply too bad the others around him were incapable of showing the true fear on their faces when he walked by. He’d only been at the GCPD for a week now. When City Council approached him a few days ago about a case needing to be solved, men and women being murdered and their bodies melting from the inside out at result of a toxin that the medical examiner could not identify, he found his interest piqued.

Of course, they offered him something in return: for helping solve the case, he would be granted release from Arkham and the chance to reform. It was a tempting offer, however, Jonathan did not have much use for such things as “reform”. What he did not like was competition – someone else out there experimenting with toxins and causing fear and paranoia in the heart of Gotham’s citizens was his job. Fear was his domain, and he would not be upstaged. However, he couldn’t deny that getting out of Arkham for some time would be a nice reprieve away from his cell in Solitary Confinement. He’d been stuck there for the last several months, hoping to get out as soon as the opportunity presented itself – he just hadn’t imagined it was presenting itself in the form of a City Council member with a tempting offer he couldn’t refuse.

Though, Jonathan admitted he felt a bit like a hypocrite. It was only months ago that he was sitting across from Edward Nigma, being told of the same opportunity the man had been given, and feeling a bit like it was a waste of Edward’s skillset.

“The GCPD?” Jonathan had asked.

Edward only nodded, not looking up, his gaze focused on the white chess pieces in front of him. They’d been a stalemate for an hour now, neither one moving their piece.

“Whatever will you do there, Edward?” Jonathan asked. “Commit yourself to a life of humiliating stares from those around you? You know what they’ll think. What they’ll say.”

Edward’s brows furrowed for the slightest moment, the only tell of his frustration that Jonathan noticed with ease. The two had known each other long enough. But even Jonathan had to admit that Edward’s determination to his silly little reform was quite fascinating. The fact that Edward hadn’t even attempted to break out of Arkham in the last three years was telling enough, and Jonathan only wondered what Edward was afraid of now that Batman was long gone. Still, the thought of Batman had a deep anger rumble in Jonathan’s stomach. The Dark Knight was long gone, and he’d won – being the first to unmask the Bat – but it had not come without it’s own price. Being injected with a high dose of his own toxin had sent him spiraling into his own fear state, one that took him months to recover from. But that was a different time, one he had put behind him long ago.

“I’m going to do it, Crane,” Edward finally said. “Batman is gone. I don’t feel like wasting the rest of my life in a cell. There’s so much greater things out there for my genius and I. Think of everything Gotham is missing out on without me there?”

Jonathan held in a sigh. Of course Edward’s patented ego was coming out, no matter how much he claimed he did not have one. He said nothing, contemplating Edward’s words. In truth, Jonathan felt quite differently – there were much better things Edward could be doing than wasting his time down at the GCPD, but he held his tongue.

Edward finally met his eyes, hardened, dark shadows circling underneath him. “I made a promise, Crane. I don’t intend to break it.” With that, he moved one piece across the board and smirked. “Your move.”

If Jonathan had known he would be following in Edward’s footsteps now, perhaps he’d have done something differently. At the time, he’d thought Edward’s “promise” was foolish, one he would not be able to keep, but so far he’d been proven wrong. He’d heard of the cases that Edward had helped solve with the aide of a silly little Detective – a detective, whom Jonathan had come to learn, Edward had quite the obsession with.

Jonathan narrowed his eyes as he looked around at the GCPD morgue. There was quite the chill, but he was used to it, and he caught a glimpse of himself in a mirror on the sidewall: three years had done quite the number on him. The mask that had been grafted to his skin had once been his face, but over time, the graft itself had begun to break down. He would have ignored it, if not for the infection that had begun underneath, prompting the Arkham doctors to convince him to go in for surgery to correct more of the damage from Croc’s mauling. Several surgeries later, he still did not quite look like himself: but his nose had been restructured, his lips slightly fixed, though there was still damage to his eye. His brown hair was thinned across his head, fully grown back by now, and yet he didn’t quite care for his appearance. He had been fine with the mask – though the Arkham doctors didn’t seem quite convinced to allow another one to be grafted onto his skin. Perhaps it was for the best, considering the way it’d broken down once.

Frowning, he studied himself a little further, taking note of the little scars across his pale, aged skin. He straightened out the white lab coat he wore, delicately laid out over a pair of tan pants and a brown sweater with gold accents. The brace around his leg was still secure, considering it was permanently broken, but he was used to it. His frown deepened and he turned away, back to the task at hand: the body splayed out across the silver tables, each of the victims’ bodies cold, gray, the stench of death permeating the room. Jonathan’s gaze slid to the other side of the room, where the medical examiner, Dr. Collins, was currently busy working on writing up reports about the victims. Jonathan turned back and headed over to one of the bodies, snatching up the clipboard and quickly skimming the initial reports Dr. Collins had made. The mans findings were…adequate. It was not wonder City Council had called him in to consult on this case; the man certainly was out of his element.

Just as he set the clipboard down, the sound of footsteps got his attention and he perked up just in time to see two people walk inside – you, and your partner, whom Jonathan had come to learn was named Mack Rollins. But Jonathan’s gaze immediately landed on you, studying you with a strange interest, taking note of your black slacks and green blouse that was open just enough to reveal a bit of cleavage. Jonathan wouldn’t normally take note of such trivial primal things, but, well…he found himself curious about what Edward Nigma saw in you. He’d never known Edward to have interest in his own primal urges, but knowing that you were capable of wrapping a man like Edward Nigma around your little finger, well…it was quite intriguing. Something he found himself needing to study, to analyze, to pick apart, to understand. What was so special about you that could make a man like Edward Nigma follow you around like a lost puppy dog, with you holding the leash?

That, Jonathan found, was the question he was most curious about.

As soon as you and your partner walked into the room, a strange tension sucked out the air, so sharp it couldn’t be cut with a knife. Jonathan narrowed his eyes, but Mack stepped forward, hands shoved into his pockets and said, “Crane. Have you made any progress on our victims?”

Jonathan studied the man slowly, deliberately taking his time to answer the question. He never imagined he’d be down in the GCPD morgue consulting on a case, but here he was. He set the clipboard aside and said, “It seems the victims have all be killed with a concoction of very lethal neurotoxins. Discovering the toxin compound will take time.”

You frowned, glancing down at one of the bodies, studying it carefully. Jonathan noticed the subtle way your lip jutted out, almost as if in concentration – but that was when he noticed something else, too: there, around your neck, was a silver chain, and dangling from it was a green question mark pendant. Clearly a gift from Edward.

Mack sighed, turning to you. “Whoever this bastard is, he’s killed every week. I don’t doubt he’s going to let up, and what is he planning?”

“This could be a trial run,” you said. “An attempt at seeing how his toxin works before he uses it on a mass crowd of people.”

Jonathan smirked, because he had a feeling you were correct in your assumption. It was entirely possible that the culprit was preparing for something big. After all, one did not perfect their toxin without a bit of experimentation, now did they?

Dr. Collins spoke up, “We’re taking care of it,” he said. “Dr. Crane and I are working day and night to analyze the toxins compounds. We’ll let you know as soon as we have something.”

Jonathan glanced at the man, frowning, even though his words were true. Jonathan was being worked like a dog day and night for the last several days since he arrived, and the weight of his newfound ankle monitor around his ankle was certainly not making things easier. The only reprieve he had was to head back to his city council issued apartment and catch a few moments of sleep, but even that was far and few between, as he kept himself awake most of the night pouring over medical files and chemical compounds in an attempt to understand this new toxin roaming Gotham’s streets – and, perhaps, set his own new plans in motion the moment those fools at city hall granted him his reform. But first, he had to play by the rules.

Mack nodded, and turned on his heels, before heading back the way he came. You followed him, but for the slightest second, you met eyes with Jonathan. It was brief, enough to make something coil in Jonathan’s stomach, a strange curiosity, and then you were out of the room without another word.

______

Several hours later, Jonathan found himself rubbing at his tired eyes. It was getting late, and he needed to send over the new reports that Dr. Collins had written up. Easier to do it by email, but he couldn’t help the curiosity building in his veins. He had not been able to stop thinking about you since you left; his curiosity needed satiating. His thoughts only continued to fill with questions: he did not understand what Edward saw in you, or why he’d gift you anything at all. Even if the necklace did look like a shiny collar more than anything.

Collecting his things, Jonathan made his way down the hall and took the elevator up to the Homicide Divisions floor. He waited patiently until the doors opened, and he stepped out, narrowing his eyes. Most of the detectives had gone home for the night, leaving behind empty desks stacked full of mountains of paperwork, but Jonathan’s gaze immediately strayed to the Cybercrimes Division office down the hall. He wandered through the room, each step a dull ache against his broken leg, but when he peeked his head inside – he realized the office was empty. That was, until voices from the other side of the room got his attention.

There, in the break room, he noticed you standing by a coffee pot, pouring yourself a cup. Steam floated into the air, and you turned back, leaning against the counter as you said, “Edward, I don’t understand why you think this will help us.”

“Because, my dear, it’s important that we cross reference everyone from every single pharmaceutical company in Gotham,” Edward replied, his voice smooth, arrogant, familiar.

“That is going to be hundreds of people,” you sighed.

“Correction, my dear: a few thousand,” Edward replied.

There was moment of silence, and Jonathan lingered back, before he heard a small laugh escape from your lips. His eyes narrowed into slits, but he walked into the room, finding you and Edward sitting across from each other at a small table, a laptop in front of Edward. You immediately turned around and found him standing there, and your lips fell open slightly, as if in surprise to see his presence.

“Crane,” Edward said, a hint of surprise in his own voice. “Finally emerged from your cave, I see. How are you faring here in this wondering institution?”

Jonathan was quiet for a moment, his gaze flickering between you and Edward – taking note of your body language, the way your foot touched Edward’s underneath the table, how your arm was just a little too close to his own. A clear sign of physical connection that Jonathan was not used to seeing Edward display with someone else.

“I have some records for you,” Jonathan said smoothly. “I thought I’d deliver them myself.” He wandered over, handing over the file to you.

You hesitated, but took it, and for just a moment – your fingertips brushed against his own. The sensation was quick, barely a heartbeat, but for some reason it made Jonathan’s stomach tighten with something strange, a stirring deep within his gut. He met your eyes once more: wide, with a heavy coat of mascara, your lips tinted in a pink, glossy sheen. You glanced at Edward as you took the files.

“Thank you, Dr. Crane,” you finally said. “I’m sure this will be helpful to the investigation.” You leaned back in your seat, crossing one leg over the other as you opened the folder, as if no longer considering him and his presence.

“Crane,” Edward said. “Come. Sit. Do regal us with tales of toxins.” He gestured to the seat in on the other side of the table, before picking up a mug of coffee and taking a slow sip.

Jonathan hesitated. He had work to do, too much, but he found himself interested. He hadn’t spoken to Edward much since arriving to the GCPD, but now was the perfect opportunity to get to know you a little better – perhaps, to understand what this strange hold you had over Edward was that had him so intrigued. There certainly couldn’t be anything that special about you, now could there be?

Jonathan pulled out the chair and sat in between the two of you finally, resting his hands in his lap, but he took note of the way you looked up from the folders and shot Edward a look. A silent conversation seemed to pass between you and Edward, something written in your gaze that intrigued Jonathan even more – but what was it? Perhaps it was apprehension. With the way your shoulders suddenly tensed, he couldn’t help but notice the flicker of uncertainty that passed through your eyes. Jonathan lips pressed into a thin line.

“How are you liking it here at the GCPD?” Edward asked, leaning back in his chair as he folded his hands together. “Is it everything you dreamed of, Crane?”

“Why yes, Edward,” he said, his tone dripping with sarcasm. “I can see why you’ve stuck to your…reform for so long.”

Edward smirked, a low chuckle rumbling from deep within his throat. “Well, I do what I must. Gotham is in need of my services, after all. And what would they do without me?”

You snorted, a soft laugh escaping your lips. Edward shot you a grin and you smiled back at him, an exchange that did not escape Jonathan’s notice.

“Right,” you said, leaning forward and resting your chin in your palm. “Oh yes, the great Edward Nigma, forever offering his services to Gotham. How grateful we are.”

Edward’s smirk grew. “Well, detective, someone has to be.”

Jonathan sensed another silent exchange a words, and a tricky look seemed to fill Edward’s eyes. It was quite clear what your relationship with Edward entailed. Jonathan had not been blind to the whispers he’d heard running through the GCPD. The officers certainly liked to talk, and their mouths were bigger than their brains.

Edward opened his mouth to speak, but Cash’s voice boomed from the other room, “Nigma! Get your ass in here!” he called out.

Edward rolled his eyes. “Apologies, Crane, but the Commissioner calls.” He backed out of his chair and stood up, before pausing to glance at you once more, and slipping out of the room – leaving Jonathan and you all alone.

His gaze slid to you once again, but your attention was back on the folders before you, spreading out a series of toxicology reports. He couldn’t help but notice the look in your eyes, the way your bottom lip jutted out, as if in a pout, and your brows furrowed with the very obvious look that you had no idea what you were reading.

“Toxicology is not your forte, detective?” he decided to ask.

Finally, you sighed and shoved the papers aside. “Definitely not. I have no idea what any of this means.”

Of course you don’t, Jonathan thought. How could he expect someone as simple as you to understand something so complicated? What ever did Edward see in you? He fought the urge to roll his eyes, trying to keep his composure, and he slid one of the papers back to himself. With his index finger, he pointed to one of the toxins, explaining just what it did and how it affected the human body. You listened intently, nodding, as if taking in all he was saying.

“So,” you said when he was finished. “This is more complicated than I thought.” You leaned back in your chair and groaned, crossing your arms over yourself. Your breasts slightly popped out of your blouse with the movement.

Jonathan was quiet for a long moment. He studied you carefully, trying to understand what was so special about you. But you glanced at him, before looking away again, the movement so fast Jonathan registered it for exactly what it was: a moment of fear.

As if you were afraid of him.

A ripple of excitement surged through Jonathan’s stomach. He lifted his chin slightly, his curiosity increasing, and he found his thoughts wandering – wondering just what would happen if he injected you with his toxin, what kind of response he would get from you. What dark secrets would spill from your lips? What was your greatest fear? What things would you scream out as you writhed around, desperately searching for a way out from your nightmares? That, Jonathan realized, was what fascinated him most of all.

“Well,” you said, clearing your throat, your fingers straying upwards to play with the dangling pendant around your neck. “I should be going. Thank you for this, Dr. Crane.” You snatched up the files and began to head out the door. But as you did, you stole one glance back at him, studying him, before slipping out the door without another word.

Jonathan’s lips curves upwards, his curiosity fueling him even more now. He was not sure what it was – but there was something about you that had him…interested, in a way he had not been in a very, very long time. And he was determined to figure out what it was about you that was burrowing into his brain like some kind of rabid parasite, eating away at him. Whatever Edward saw in you, he wanted to find that little thing for himself. And oh, how fun it would be to pry it out of you, to make you squirm, to understand what exactly was so special about you that had Edward wrapped around your little finger. Because if you could make a man like Edward Nigma break…what other dangers did you possess?

That, Jonathan discovered, was what he wondered most of all.

______

The days passed slowly, and Jonathan was no closer to finding the solution to the toxin this new murderer on the streets was using. But with each passing day, as he found himself coming to and from the GCPD, he found himself running into you more often that not. In the halls, he often caught glimpses of you by Edward’s side, and he watched as the two of you left work together, arm in arm, whispering to one another in the shadows. Jonathan was not sure what it was about your relationship with Edward that fascinated him so, but it did not take Jonathan long to learn that the people called you the Riddler’s Whore, whispered about you behind closed doors, found it unbelievable that you would be with a criminal like Edward. And perhaps that was what Jonathan needed answering – why such a respected detective in the GCPD would fall for a criminal, albeit a reformed one, like Edward Nigma.

It did not take Jonathan long to devise a plan of his own, one to get you alone for a small moment, just to ask a few questions. He timed the seconds until he could set his plan in motion, and when the time came, he called upstairs to your desk, asking if you could come downstairs to the morgue. Dr. Collins had already left on his lunch break, and he knew your partner had taken the day off work – leaving you all alone. It did not take long for you to come downstairs, and he heard the elevator doors open, your heels clacking against the floor as you made your way into the morgue. You stepped into the room, hanging back in the doorway slightly.

“You wanted to see me, Dr. Crane?” you asked, one hand gripping the doorway.

Jonathan pretended to barely notice your presence, glancing at you for a split second. “I wanted to let you know that I’ve made progress in determining the toxin,” he said.

“Oh?” you asked, your attention fully on him now.

Jonathan nodded, turning back to his desk, and he glanced at the clock – and right on time, all of the lights in the GCPD went on, bathing everything in darkness. He heard your heals clack against the floor, as if you were shifting back and forth on your feet, and a moment later, a thunderous bang rang throughout, as if the backup generator was kicking on. A soft blue, overhead light came overhead, but most of the room was bathed in darkness.

“Shit,” you mumbled underneath your breath.

It was just as he’d planned – hiring a few men to cut the power to the GCPD and to the elevator. There was no way you’d be getting back upstairs now, at least not until the problem was fixed. He had twenty minutes, tops, perhaps. Enough time for what he needed.

“Afraid, detective?” he asked, busying himself with a few vials of chemicals, carefully not breaking contact from the vials.

“I’m not afraid of the dark,” you said, stepping further into the room.

“Then what are you afraid of?” he asked, curious.

You were hesitant for a moment, so long that he turned back to see if you were even listening, but you crossed your arms over yourself and leaned back against the wall.

“All right,” you sighed. “I’ll play your game, Crane. If you want to know, I’m afraid of being eaten alive.”

“Eaten alive?” he asked, brows raising.

“Yeah. You know, by a shark or a crocodile. Or a dinosaur.”

“Dinosaurs went extinct millions of years ago, detective.”

“Well if you can create a fear toxin that makes people experience their greatest fears, what’s stopping some scientists from re-creating the dinosaurs?” you asked, but there was something oddly playful in your tone.

Jonathan did not know how to respond to that. He did not recall ever being questioned about the scientific recreation of dinosaurs before, but alas, that was besides the matter. He turned back to his vials, the stench of chemicals filling his nose. The clinking of vials filled the quiet space.

Jonathan took a moment to listen for any movements, but you said nothing, so he continued, “You and Edward seem quite close.”

“Well, he is my boyfriend,” you said.

Jonathan scoffed at the word, how juvenile it sounded. He glanced back at you and finally said, “I’ve never known Edward to take interest in such…menial pursuits.”

You shrugged, not breaking eye contact from him. “Well, things change.”

Jonathan finally swiveled around in his chair, studying you with clear, careful intent. “And what will you do when he decides he’s finished with you?”

You straightened. Now he had your full attention. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

It was his turn to shrug, nonchalantly, as if without care. “We both know Edward only cares about himself. His narcissism doesn’t lie. Surely you can’t be that naïve, can you?”

“I know who he is,” you said, quietly. “I know what he’s done, and I’ve accepted it.”

“Have you now?” Jonathan asked, his curiosity growing. Now this was making him grow even more fascinated: what would cause a GCPD detective like yourself to fall for a criminal like Edward? The two of you were on completely opposite ends of the spectrum, and yet, somehow both enamored with one another.

“Yes,” you replied, staring at him closely, eyeing him as if he might make a move. “What does it matter to you, Crane?”

“I’m simply fascinated,” he replied. “What’s so special about you that has Edward so…enamored. I can see the way he looks at you. The way he follows you around like a poor, lost puppy. I’m…curious.”

Your quiet for a long moment, your eyes narrowing into slits. They sparkled in the darkness, the blue hue of the overhead light casting shadows across the room.

“You’re going to have to ask him,” you finally said, your tone level, composed, but there was just a hint of uncertainty in it that Jonathan detected.

“I’m not asking him, detective,” Jonathan replied. “I’m asking you.”

Your frown deepened, and you finally looked away. “Well, I can’t give you an answer, doctor. Ask Edward yourself.”

Jonathan leaned forward slightly in his seat. “Doesn’t it fascinate you as well?” he asked. “Why someone like Edward Nigma would become so infatuated with you?”

You shifted back and forth on your feet, heels clacking, the only sound in the room, in the quiet stillness. Jonathan counted the minutes – he still had about fifteen to get what he wanted, the answer he was desperate for. His own fascination with you was beginning to grow further, a desperation to understand you. To understood what made you tick, what you feared, the pieces of your mind he wanted to shape and mold and understand.

He could see that look in your eyes, as if you were asking yourself the very same question, trying to understand it yourself. A smirk curved at the edge of his lips, realizing he had you right where he wanted you: questioning the very fabric of your relationship with Edward, held together by fragile threads. Jonathan quirked a brow, studying you carefully.

“I don’t know,” you finally answered him, your voice quiet.

Jonathan clicked his tongue in response. So, even you did not seem to know what was so special about you that had allowed you to wrap Edward around your little finger. But Jonathan was determined to figure out just what little piece of you was – to twist it and mold it to his own.

Jonathan finally stood, backing away from the table of vials and taking a step towards you. “You didn’t answer my question, detective. When Edward has decided he’s had his fill of you – that you’re no longer his shiny new toy – what will you do? I’ve heard the rumors. Tell me…has Nigma ruined you? Corrupted you? When he’s finished with you, who will want you afterwards?”

Your mouth falls open slightly and you step back a little, the shock written clearly across your face. It’s clear his question has taken you aback, and that makes a flicker of pride spark in Jonathan’s chest.

“You’re damaged goods, detective,” Jonathan continue. “No one will want you now that you’ve been…tainted by Edward, will they? He’s taken that innocent part of you and twisted it until there’s nothing left of who you used to be, is there?”

“Crane…” you said, a warning in your tone. “I’m not playing this game with you. Stop trying to get under my skin.” Your body went taught then, and he could practically smell the fear radiating off your skin, a deliciousness that only fueled his intrigue more.

Jonathan stepped a little closer now. “No games, detective. A simple discussion.”

“A discussion that’s starting to piss me off,” you mumbled. “Remember, doctor, I can go right to the Commissioner and have them throw you right back in Arkham.”

One of Jonathan’s brow quirked upwards. “No need for threats, detective. I’m merely expressing my concern. Once Edward has decided he’s had his fill, who will want you? Who will touch you? You’re corrupted, ruined…damaged goods. That’s what you are now, aren’t you?”

In that moment – something fills your eyes: a pure, raw rage, unfiltered, as if burning against the firelight. It’s clear as day, the sudden change in your demeanor, how your anger is beginning to take hold of as fierce as a wicked storm. The change is subtle, but enough for Jonathan to take notice, and his brow quirks up even further in interest.

“I think we’re finished with this discussion,” you said, turning away from him, your gaze sliding towards the door. The power is still out, the elevator still out of use, and there’s nowhere to run, but Jonathan can tell you’re searching for an escape route – he can see the fear that you’re trying so hard to control, to keep contained, and it lights a fire in his belly, stirring excitement deep within him.

Jonathan takes another step closer, and your head snaps to him. “You can feel it, don’t you? How you’re nothing but a tarnished toy? That feeling of hopelessness, knowing that no one will want you when Edward has finished his games with you.”

“I don’t remember asking you for a therapy session, Crane,” you snapped.

The snap makes a shudder run through Crane – and that’s when he see’s it: the fear, unaltered, pure, raw, fear. The fear that you know he’s right – that no one will want you the moment Edward has decided to be done with his shiny new toy. Jonathan knows it’s only a matter of time.

“You know I’m right, don’t you?” Jonathan continues. “You know Edward will bore of you, eventually. And who will want you then, I wonder?”

You said nothing – but the fear in your eyes was clear, sending another ripple of excitement through his stomach. Jonathan took another step closer, until he was a mere inches away from you, listening to the way your breath hitched in your throat – but you did not back down, remaining still, defiant – a clear sign you did not want to give into your fears.

The edges of Jonathan’s lips quirked upwards. “That’s what you’re afraid of most, isn’t it, detective? Being cast aside and treated as nothing but his plaything?”

You didn’t break eye contact from him. “This isn’t a therapy session, Crane.”

The bite in your voice made him tremble. “I’m merely expressing my professional opinion, detective. Edward will have his fun with you, and when he’s finished, you’ll be broken beyond repair. No one will want a tainted little thing like you.”

You scoffed under your breath, turning to face him again. The burning defiance was still clear in your eyes, across your face – but there was something about that defiance, something about the way you held strong, unbroken and unyielding, that made something in him snap. Something stirred in his gut, a strange sensation, an excitement he had not felt in quite some time – years, perhaps, but enough to make the hairs on the back of his own neck raise in question.

“Maybe I like being a little tainted,” you finally said.

Your statement caught him off guard. He had not expected such an interesting response from you – to declare that you did not seem to care how Edward might have ruined you for anyone else. Perhaps, if you were anyone else, you would be cowering from him right now – afraid, trembling, terrified of what he might do to them. But you stood firm, the defiance written across every inch of your skin – and that was when it clicked for Jonathan.

Ah. There it is, he realized, as the puzzle pieces came to place in his own mind. It was your fire – burning as bright as a dying star, refusing to be smoldered – that had Edward so captivated by you. The way you spoke, carried yourself, a flame never going out, no matter how much damage had been done to you. And there had been quite a bit of damage, Jonathan had come to learn – and yet you were not allowing that damage to break you.

And, perhaps, Jonathan liked that, admired it even. A strong mind was rare to come by.

Crossing his hands behind his back, his excitement growing, he began to circle you, like a hunter stalking its prey. His eyes roamed over every inch of you, taking in the parts that he had not allowed his eyes to stray to for too long. He was not a man who gave into such…primal desires before, but standing here, listening to your defiance – it excited him, in a way he had not been excited in a very, very long time.

“So, you enjoy the thought of being ruined and tainted by Edward? Interesting, very interesting,” he murmured, making a mental note of every word out of your mouth, how your body language threatened to betray you.

“What does it matter to you anyways, Crane?” you sighed, a sound out of your mouth that somehow sounded both bored and exasperated.

That made him pause, stopping his tracks right in front of you. His gaze roamed over you from head to toe, before landing on the green question mark necklace resting delicately at the hollow of your throat. Jonathan took a step closer, before reaching forward and capturing the pendant between his first two fingers, rubbing at the surface with slow, delicate care. You sucked in a breath, your body going taught, and you began to take a step back, but Jonathan only tightened his grip on the necklace, making you pause.

“I’ve seen the way he looks at you,” he continued, his voice low. “The way he touches you. Edward is positively smitten with you. Now I can see why.”

Your eyes narrowed slightly. You were just inches away from him, enough that he could take in every delicate line on your face. “Let go of me,” you whispered,

He ignored your demand, swirling his thumb along the dips and grooves of the pendant, before his gaze met yours again. “This little trinket says quite a lot more about your relationship with Edward, doesn’t it? That you belong to him?”

The breath hitched in your throat. “So what if I do? Does that bother you?” There was a tremble to your voice now, one Jonathan couldn’t help but notice.

He quirked a brow. “It’s simply an observation, detective,” he said. “But when the time comes for him to discard you, whatever will you do? That’s what scares you the most, isn’t it? That desperate, primal need to be wanted, even if it’s by a man who will never love you?”

You sucked in a shallow breath, as if trying to keep yourself composed. “Stop trying to psychoanalyze me, Crane. If I want therapy, I’ll get it from someone else.”

The bite in your voice makes Jonathan pause, but the corners of his mouth quirk upward. He tilts his head to the side, his gaze roving over your body in fascination, wondering what a dose of his toxin would do to you – what sort of secrets you would reveal, how long it would take for that precious little mind to break. But he could see it in your eyes, the truth you were fighting so hard not to reveal: your true fear was not being eaten alive. It was being tossed aside and unloved, forgotten, unwanted. Jonathan could see it written across your face plain as day.

But you didn’t break your gaze from him, the defiance still written clear as day, as if you were trying to prove to yourself and to him that you weren’t afraid. Excitement bundled in Jonathan’s stomach, a desire, a need, an aching suddenly pooling in his core, to watch that defiance in your eyes fade into nothing but submission and surrender. Jonathan smirked, his thumb continuing to trace circles over the pendant in slow, meticulous strokes.

Your breathing was shallow, but your gaze narrowed, and you finally reached up to swat his hand away, but with his other hand, he grabbed your wrist tightly. You gasped as his fingers dug into your skin, and he nudged you back, until your waist hit the small metal table. His grip tightened on your necklace, carefully yanking your head closer to him, until he was but inches away from you, your breath on his skin.

“Come now, detective,” he said lowly. “Acts of physical violence aren’t tolerated here at the GCPD, now are they?”

“Crane…” you said, a warning in your tone. He could feel you shuddering against him, the terror in your eyes exciting him, even though you fought hard to control it.

He finally dropped the pendant, but his fingers hovered a little too long near your collarbone, before he dropped your wrist as well and dropped his hands back to his sides. Excitement pooled in his stomach, aching deep inside of him. He took a step back, and just as he did, the lights flickered on once more, bathing the room in a bright white light glow. He took a step back and tucked his hands into his pockets, turning away as if the entire interaction hadn’t happened at all, returning to his desk and the vials and reports surrounding him. As he slid back into his seat, he watched you spin on your heels, muttering something vulgar under your breath. Jonathan chuckled lowly to himself, and a moment later, he heard the elevator doors ping out.

“Detective?” Dr. Collins asked from down the hall. “Are you all right?”

Your gaze slid back to him, then to Dr. Collins. “Everything’s fine.”

“He didn’t hurt you, did he?” Dr. Collins asked, lowering his voice, but Jonathan could still hear, listening in.

You were silent for a beat, before shaking your head. “No. I’m fine.” Then you turned and walked away, out of the room, your heels clicking on the way down the hall.

Jonathan returned to his work, smirking. A productive session. He’d already learned enough about you in twenty minutes than he had all week – and what he’d learned had been very, very fascinating. Now he understood what Edward saw in you, what would draw you to him, make him…crave you. Jonathan paused, his fingers hovering over the vials as a hint of something pulsed in his stomach, spreading down to his loins, tightening in the confines of his pants. Crave. That word meant a lot of things. And, the more he began to think about it, the more his own craving for you began to grow into something deeper, into something he had not felt in quite a very, very long time.

Smirking, one thought crossed his mind, Until next time, pet.

It was a good thing Jonathan didn’t mind damaged goods.

The amazing @finzphoenix did a wonderful job of drawing what I imagined a post-Arkham Knight Jon would look like, which you can find here!

#caesariawrites #Cat&Mouse!Verse #i dont even know if i wrote jon correctly lmao #but it was worth a shot #arkham scarecrow #arkham jonathan crane #jonathan crane #scarecrow #scarecrow x yn #scarecrow x you #scarecrow x reader #jonathan crane x y/n #jonathan crane x you #jonathan crane x reader

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intothedysphoria · 9 months ago

Text

Steve started going to the gym the day after Eddie dumped him.

Technically, the two events were unrelated. Eddie avoided the gym like the plague so it wasn’t like Steve was going out of his way to meet him and they had a 30% membership discount the month of April, so really he was just taking advantage of a good deal.

Honestly, Steve worked out when he was stressed and he really needed that adrenaline hit to stop himself from crawling into the fridge and never coming out again.

He’d gotten up at 6AM, made sure that he looked semi presentable to be out in public and was just settling onto the running machine when the sound of Metallica started blasting from the Pilates room just opposite the regular gym.

After Steve recovered from his almost panic attack thinking that Eddie was actually getting fit, and the confusion at the instructor using fucking Metallica for 6AM Pilates, Steve decided in a bored, sad, slightly horny way, to check out the class.

Well, the instructor definitely wasn’t Eddie.

Eddie didn’t have those muscles.

Eddie didn’t have bleach blonde hair.

Eddie didn’t have a fucking tongue piercing.

Steve quickly decided he was in way over his head and frantically started to back away from the door but it was too late. The guy had already seen him and was gesturing him over.

Fucking shit.

The instructor was called Billy. Which was fun. He’d just moved to Hawkins from Los Angeles (why???????) and he was always up for new students so why didn’t Steve give it a go, he promised the Metallica was just a joke since it never failed to wake everyone up.

Steve was not a Pilates guy. That was all he learned from the hour long session. Well, that and when Billy’s tongue flicked out and did a little corkscrew, he looked like he’d be really good at eating- no Steve. Bad thoughts. No rebound.

Billy clapped a firm hand on Steve’s shoulder on the way out and Steve swore he started developing a semi.

This was not going to work.

He did what he always did when considering bad horny decisions and called Carol. The conversation was short and to the point.

“Babe didn’t Munson dump you literally like yesterday?”

She was popping her gum across the line. It was infuriating. Steve took a deep breath before responding.

“Well yeah but-“

Carol cut him off. She had a habit of doing that.

“Yeah but nothing babe.” Her voice trailed out of his phone like cigarette smoke, dancing across his room. “Either you let me key his dumbass weed van or you give up any dreams you’ve ever had about bouncing on blondie muscleface’s dick. Kay babe?”

Then she hung up.

Steve decided to go to Pilates class every day for the following two weeks. It kind of grew on him. Heather, the assistant instructor was bitchy and fun in a way he liked and her long acrylics reminded him of Carol. He made a mental note to himself to introduce her to Robin.

Things on the Billy side of things had not improved however. They’d gotten significantly worse. He was getting boners in public like a teenager, couldn’t speak in full sentences and his heart started doing that gooey mushy thing, especially when Billy told him he’d done a good job.

It’s a rebound not a crush had become his new mantra. Unfortunately, it wasn’t exactly true.

It was definitely a crush. A big one. Even bigger than the ones he’d had on Jonathan or Nancy or Eddie. And it was a problem.

He didn’t do a Clueless and start wearing revealing athletics wear or anything but he did start flirting just a little. To test out if what he thought had been completely made up in his brain or if something was actually happening.

Billy consistently responded with innuendos so intense, they would make Tommy ask him to cool it.

Ok. So Billy seemed to like him back. All Steve needed to do was ask him to dinner or something. No biggie.

He walked into next Mondays class with a mission which was immediately shattered by Billy wearing a signed Corroded Coffin t shirt. And Corroded Coffin was still small as shit, if Billy had it signed, he was friends with Eddie no doubt.

Running out of the class may not have been the most dignified option but it was the only one his dumbass brain could think of at the time.

He ran all the way back to his apartment onto his bed then cried. After half an hour he decided to check his phone only to be faced with a text from a number Steve must have just thought he’d blocked.

Eddie 💖🖤☺️

Can we talk?

Steve messaged back telling him to go away but five seconds later relented and said sure.

The phone started ringing immediately.

“Hey Steve. Why’d you run out of Billy’s Pilates class?”

Steve wanted to laugh. Or cry. Or both. He decided to keep his tone on the cooler side of polite.

“Did he tell you about that?”

There was a long silence for about five minutes before Eddie answered.

“Look Steve……….I know I wasn’t a gentleman when I dumped you. I shouldn’t have just run from the restaurant. That was a dick move. But I really do like Jason and I know for a fact Billy likes you. And you deserve each other. Really.”

Steve sniffled but didn’t answer

“Friends again?” Eddie’s voice was uncharacteristically quiet.

“Friends.”

Billy looked slightly frantic the next Pilates class. His hair was a mess and he was wearing a hat with a food stain on it somehow. His face visibly relaxed when he saw Steve.

Billy wasn’t a rebound. He was kind and friendly and opened the door to people who were struggling to get out. His hair was a stupid 80s mullet in 2024, his tattoos were atrocious and Steve thought it might be too soon to say it but he was pretty sure he was in love with him.

Dinner was a good start though, Steve thought as Billy laced their fingers together after the class. Dinner was good.

#billy hargrove #steve harrington #harringrove #harringrove ficlet

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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 1 month ago

Note

He is jealous. You have posted pictures of his brother from another mother all day.

Crash Into Me

Warnings: non/dubcon, and other dark elements. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.

Characters: Jonathan Pine

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging.

A flash then a whip and a roaring crash. The impact jars you back before your face hits something that makes it radiate. Your nose throbs and your body buzzes. The image of the dark road fades to a staticky confusion.

You hear wheezing. You're not sure if it's your or the body in the next seat. Who was it again? Nick. Yes. Nick. Is he okay? Are you okay?

You're at a dead stop. A minute ago you were moving. You were going somewhere. Home.

As Nick drove away from the shore into the dim dusk, you're eyelids drooped. You were dozing when the world began to spin.

You groan and focus on moving your arms. They feel like sandbags. You put your hands on the airbag and push back. You're crowded in the tightspace. Broken glass crunches on the pavement.

Footsteps come closer and closer. You blink, trying to clear the fog. Your head is full of cotton. You take a breath that clogs your throat with the taste of iron. Warmth spouts from your nose and lines the creases of your lips.

The door opens with a sickening wrench. The metal whines and the car lurches. You gurgle as a shadow looms beneath the moonlight.

The figure reaches across you. The belt clicks and repels. You cough as the buckle hits your shoulder.

You croak but can't trace your lips around the question clustered in your chest. A soft stroke across your hairline makes you shiver. Something warm snakes behind your back. You moan as you're lifted from the seat.

Your head falls against a shoulder as your legs dangle over the man's arm. It must be a man to be carrying you so easy.

"Ni--Nick?" You scratch out. Your head lolls and the man hikes you up, snugger to him. "Nnnngh...."

"Shhh, darling, no need to fret," the voice lilts. "I've got you."

Your mind races. You know that voice. That accent. You recognise the scent wafting into your lungs.

"What...Jon...Jonathan..."

"Please, you must keep your strength, darling," he purrs. "Else you won't recover very quickly."

"What... what did you do?" You babble and flick your lashes, the stars blurry and the night heavy.

He's silent as he carries on. You turn your head and peek past him. You see Nick's car, the headlights cracked and the nose hugging a pole.

He shifts and angles you so you can't see more than the nocturnal smear above. He slides you across the backseat, guiding your body over the cushion. You drone in confusion.

"Jonathan?" You squeak.

"Darling," he stands, his silhouette a swath of black silk in the silver moonlight, "do not ask what I've done and consider the same of yourself." He moves your feet so your legs are bent. "You will see that this is nothing I've done, it is all upon your shoulders."

He shuts the door and you flinch. The glare of the broken headlights casts over you. You snort back another dam of phlegm and blood, hacking until it dislodges. You spit it onto the floor as the driver's side opens.

Jonathan lowers himself into the seat. Your heart pounds and your breath picks up. He turns the engine and steers past the flashing high beams of the wreckes car. He's calmly silent as he passes without a glance.

You close your eyes but cannot block out the man in the front seat or reality. What he's done is wrong, but what he says is true. You knew he wouldn't stop, yet you still ran away.

#jonathan pine #dark Jonathan pine #dark!jonathan pine #Jonathan pine x reader #the night manager #drabble

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yanderes-galore · 8 months ago

Note

Platonic yandere Jonathan Joestar with a childhood friend darling, please and thank you ^_^

Ah yes, your new bodyguard. Hope you like this and sorry it took so long!

Yandere! Platonic! Jonathan Joestar with Childhood Friend! Darling

Pairing: Platonic

Possible Trigger Warnings: Gender-Neutral Darling, Obsession, Overprotective behavior, Slight manipulation, Violence, Blood, Dubious companionship.

I called Jonathan something similar to a bear in his original concept.

Well, that's true here.

Towards you Jonathan is very respectable and polite.

He's also a man who would want to defend the "honor" of his best friend.

Jonathan isn't very popular despite his attempts to be a gentleman.

Everyone always saw him as the rich kid in school.

So he was actually often a target of bullying rather than being popular.

Except with you.

Jonathan met you at school when you were young and you both became childhood friends.

As a result, while you grew up he was often protective.

You were one of his only friends except his dog and his girlfriend, Erina.

Honestly, as much as he wanted to get along with Dio, it wasn't happening.

This made you one of the few people Jonathan still talked to from his youth.

Which meant you were always under his protection.

Jonathan doesn't mind bullies picking on him, but you?

If he sees you being messed with he intervenes.

I'm talking Jonathan would get into huge fist fights if it meant defending you and your honor.

By the time you pull him out of it, he's bloody and you have to drag him off to get cleaned up.

To you both, you're childhood friends.

To others, it looks like he's a bodyguard.

Perhaps he is when it comes to you.

When you two were young you were originally of similar builds.

Although, as you got older, Jonathan's size dwarfed you.

When you're in Highschool, both Jonathan and Dio dwarf you, actually.

Before Dio came along, Jonathan often played with you and Danny outside.

You loved being around him and the dog, when Erina came over you often invited her to join you and Jonathan.

When Dio moved in, there's the canonical clashing he and Jonathan have.

Although the moment Dio slanders you or picks on you in your youth, Jonathan steps in.

Jonathan often keeps you away from Dio due to this.

When you're in the mansion, Jonathan is never far behind.

When you're at school, he's there too.

Jonathan is aware of Dio's tendency to prey on you.

He can't do it without going through Jonathan.

Dio intends to make Jonathan suffer, which often includes sabotaging relationships.

Dio would definitely try his best to make you hate Jonathan.

Yet it's not very successful since Jonathan is always around.

On a more light-hearted note, Jonathan probably likes to carry you around due to his size.

You're more of a sibling to him than Dio.

Jonathan's protective nature towards you continues even after Dio becomes a vampire.

He actually hates the fact he's bedridden due to the fire, you could be vulnerable.

But Erina always manages to meet with you upon Jonathan's request so you can both visit him as he recovers.

Jonathan is still tamer than most JJBA yanderes, just being a bit overbearing.

He'd want to get stronger and take on Dio for the sake of both you and Erina.

He wants to marry Erina and have you alongside him.

As usual, you can imagine he'd be devastated if you were harmed by Dio.

It's not just bullying or teasing anymore.

Dio could easily kill you and take your blood.

Jonathan often worries about you.

He knows his strength should be used to protect those he loves.

You may not like him violent... but he'd do anything to protect you.

Jonathan does not kill out of jealousy.

He does not kill out of sadism.

Even when obsessed with you, he only kills if he'll lose you.

The blood on his hands is for your happiness.

In fact, Jonathan would love to see his best friend fall in love and get married like him.

He wants to support you.

He doesn't want you scared of him, he's protecting you.

If anyone threatens your happiness, he'll be there.

He actually isn't that bad with you.

If you get a partner, then he judges them to make sure they have your best interests at heart.

If they break your heart then he'd probably break them.

Jonathan may be clingy and overprotective... but he's a hero, isn't he?

He protected you from Dio just like he always has.

When you were injured, he stuck by you.

Every hug he gives is caring.

It doesn't matter if he has blood on his hands for you, right?

He just wants the best for you...

So he'll never leave you alone.

#yandere jojo #yandere jojo's bizarre adventure #yandere jjba #yandere jonathan joestar #platonic yandere

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marimayscarlett · 1 year ago

Note

I need more unhinged Richard quotes, like the whole “[coc*ine when you’re young vs when you’re old]” thing or I may simply pass away

Hi Hello 🤗

This ask has been sitting in my inbox for a while, but now I finally come around to compile some more quotes from Richard's interviews (here is 'Part 1' so to speak).

Off to another tiny little round of stuff Richard says (some are interesting, others a little weird or downright unhinged):

I think the quote you mean is this one [from this audio interview]: "It's like, you know, it's like you know when you were young and could do coke for a fucking month and nothing, y'know? When you get old you need to recover from fucking one week." (and the interviewer is seemingly quite lost: "haha..true..👀")

Now, on to the Fellfrosch gem [interview]: Interviewer: Perhaps the disgust at the bitter aftertaste is really just a problem of overly careless personal hygiene? Richard: "Tastes change too. Much of what seemed too bitter to us in childhood tastes good to us today. On the other hand, we usually find the sweets from the past too sweet. Every fur frog tastes different. Pure question of taste. There is no judgment in the text. We’re not saying it stinks."

His readiness to try out his talents with on-screen eroticism some more [interview]: "After I shot some erotic scenes for a video the other day I could also imagine doing an entire film in that direction. I was quite nervous in the beginning, but the longer we were shooting the more fun I had. Erotic, mind you, not pornographic."

in the same interview, he discloses the two main activities which bring him relaxation: "I love lying in bed, smoking and watching good movies more than anything. That is the only thing where I can really switch of other than sex. Lots of both, please. [laughs]"

And another quote from said interview regarding in which time period he would've liked to live and about his affinity to the middle ages (which for me as a history geek is so lovely to see that he is into that period as well): "I guess the sword and blade time as I always call it. Knights templar, 11th century. I can answer that this well, because I like to watch even stupid movies when they deal with that period. I just have a huge affinity to it somehow and would love to find out how things were going back then."

The way he pressurized/threatened (?) Jonathan Davis to sing a high note for the song "Silent so long" (man Richard must be such a nice fellow to work with 👀) [interview]: "But there was a high note in the chorus that Jonathan couldn't quite get right. So what to do? He said he couldn't sing that high. So I grabbed the receiver and whispered the following into his ear: "Watch out, Jonathan. This is the German way! Now take both your hands, grab your balls and squeeze until you get that damn sound."

Touring is hard, but partying is even harder [interview]: "Touring is not the problem, but partying is. If you went straight to the hotel after the show - no problem. But if you party until six in the morning, it's getting increasingly more difficult to get out of bed."

Being super vague in moments where we need more facts from him like in this interview, about the "Bück dich" performance of Till and Flake: "If Till had to do it to me… I would probably you know, like… uhm.. I'll do… something."

this whole feverdream here: an interview for the promotion of the first Emigrate album back in 2007, where Richard and his alter Ego "Mister Emigrate" answer the questions 'together'. It's has a Dr. Jekyll/Mr. Hyde vibe to it but is kind of cute ✨

On a more serious note, here he talks about the effects of drugs on him: "I took a lot of cocaine. You reach dimensions that you could never reach otherwise. You can edit a bass drum for eight hours."

Thank you for your interest in even more stuff Richard says 😌

#rammstein #richard kruspe #ask #boy i could go on and on #i haven't even started collecting stuff from the video interviews #he says so many interesting things most of the time and other times it's just. Oh the horrors #what is he saying again #but well never a dull moment with this gentleman here #interviews & quotes

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apomaro-mellow · 2 years ago

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Based on this art by vivalski

Eddie couldn't believe his luck. Well, luck might not be the best word. He was still a wanted man. Hawkins was still recovering. And he needed blood to live. Not the best situation to be honest. But when that oh so vital resource came from Steve Harrington himself... It's just good to look at the positives.

Eddie had been sustaining himself with blood bags every few days from the clinic but one day Steve offered himself and he never looked back. Sometimes he thought about lying about his thirst just to get his lips on his skin.

Unlike most lore would left you believe though, he didn't go for the neck. Such distinct bite marks would be too noticeable. So most times Eddie bit from Steve's arm. Still, even that felt intimate. Especially when their eyes met during. Eddie tried to keep his gaze away for the most part, focusing on what he was doing so he didn't get lost in it and end up draining Steve. But it was impossible to never look at him.

Eddie swore there was one time Steve looked just as gone as he was. There was no way. Eddie was getting drunk off the fine wine of his blood. Steve was getting leeched off of by a parasite.

Then one day Steve asked a question that knocked him flat on his ass.

"How come you never bite my neck?"

Eddie had been about to drink from his wrist, sitting comfortably on Steve's bed when Steve brought it up. In true Eddie fashion, he didn't just come out and say the real reason.

"You want a hickey from me that bad?", he flashed a grin.

Steve's expression pinched a little, the way it usually did when Eddie flirted playfully at him. "That's just how vampires always do it. Never heard of them getting blood from an arm."

"And you're a vampire expert?"

"I think at this point I can say I know more than the average person, yes. So, how about it?"

Eddie swallowed. "How about what?"

"Keep up, Munson. I'm saying you should try my neck. Maybe the blood is better there. It's closer to my heart and everything. Maybe it's fresher?"

Eddie's brain stopped working because Steve was pulling his hair away from his neck. Vampires were supposed to be the charismatic ones, seducing their victims and having them lose themselves in pleasure. Roles always reversed themselves with him and Steve. He was the one losing himself. Steve was the badass monster slayer.

"Well? Come on, bite me."

Eddie leaned in and once he was in Steve's space, he paused. The blood under his skin smelled good, but so did the man himself. Eddie's eyes fluttered shut as he finally closed in and sank his teeth into his neck. Steve let out a small sigh.

Finally.

Steve had made a gamble. But given his evidence this had probably been his most educated guess ever. At first he thought Eddie was just addicted to blood; that he made those expressions of want with anyone who might feed him. But when Steve had been unavailable, Eddie had taken sips from both Jonathan and Argyle. He didn't start looking at them like he wanted to devour them.

His pulse raced a little as he felt Eddie's lips move against his skin. That was probably for the best. Getting more blood into his system. Steve started to stroke Eddie's hair, which made Eddie loose a little moan, which made Steve release a gasp as he felt the vibrations.

It felt like the most sinful of feedback loops. Steve could feel some blood beginning to drip down his neck and usually Eddie didn't waste a drop but maybe it was too much to gulp down are Eddie was getting used to the angle and flow because Steve could feel more streaming down.

When Eddie pulled back, he was panting and Steve saw the mess of blood around his lips and knew his throat must look the same.

"Shit, sorry. Do you need a towel-wait, of course you do." Eddie was about to move off the bed when Steve grabbed his arm.

"Just lick it."

Eddie froze like he was speaking Russian.

"Didn't your uncle teach you not to waste any food? You can get me cleaner than any towel."

"Y-yeah, I can do that." Eddie couldn't believe what Steve was offering him. It wasn't just his neck, some of the blood had dripped down to his chest. Steve was even pulling his shirt down to keep it from being stained.

"Alright", Eddie said before licking his lips. "Just tell me if it's too much." Wasting no time, he cupped the back of Steve's head and dove back in, licking at the mess he'd made. Eddie was thorough, and he took his time. He wanted Steve to be spotless by the time he was done.

Steve considered this gambit a huge success. But in this instance he couldn't quit while he was ahead. He needed to go all in. He wanted more. He needed to know if Eddie wanted more too. Steve grabbed his face with both hands and before Eddie could think something was wrong, Steve kissed him.

Maybe a little venom got into him or maybe he was just under the influence of the man before him but somehow the flavor of his own blood tasted good on Eddie's lips.

#apo writes #stranger things #fanfiction #steddie #vampire!eddie

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artiststarme · 2 years ago

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The Gift of Not Dying Part 13

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11 Part 12 Part 13

Yay, we're done with Starcourt now! I hope you guys like this part and if you do, please let me know in the comments!

~*~*~*~

Steve just wanted to go back to Hopper’s cabin and recover enough from his death, concussion, and whatever the fuck else he had going on so things could get back to normal. So he could go back to just being the kid that worked at Scoops Ahoy that had a thing for the town’s nerdy metalhead. He wanted to go on a date with Eddie and hear Hopper giving him a shovel talk to keep him in line.

He didn’t want to have to blend in with the crowd to avoid being shot or hide from the Russians in the food court. He just wanted to be a normal teenager for a little while whose biggest worry was taking the boy that he liked on a date. Was that so much to ask?

Apparently so because right then he was anxiously curled up in the fetal position in some random fast food restaurant in Starcourt, trying desperately to silence his heavy breathing to avoid drawing the attention of the evil Russians. How was he supposed to protect his friends against the automatic rifles some of these guys were packing? He’d be fine, with the drugs out of his system, he’d come back. But Dustin, Robin, and Erica? One misplaced bullet and they’d be gone for good.

Him and Eleven had been practicing his telekinesis but he was still leagues away from being anywhere close to reaching the level of her powers. All he could do was partially crinkle a soda can, there was no way he could fling even one of these guys away in order to escape. Steve wasn’t even 100% certain that he could deflect a bullet under this kind of pressure.

They sat in silence with bated breath for what seemed like forever. They could hear the Russians walking around, some unintelligible dialogue being exchanged. It seemed that they were going to survive this… and then his foot twitched. It bumped a fallen steel tray and the sound was deafening in the silence. Shit, Steve had just killed his friends. They all heard the Russian’s footsteps come closer, waiting in dread to feel the pain of the bullet. But the man never fired. In place of the expected pops of gunfire, they heard a car alarm closely followed by the smash of metal and glass.

They waited a moment before peeking over the serving counter of the fast food joint. Steve didn’t see any Russians with their guns pointed at them. No, he saw El. Her arm still extended towards the car with a small stream of blood leaking from her nose. His little sister had saved their lives once again.

Steve ran ahead of his friends to meet the other half of the Party. He saw El climb down the escalator first and swept her up into a hug. “El!”

“Steve! I was worried. Are you… okay?” She asked him, her face smushed in his shoulder.

“Yeah kiddo, I’m fine. I promise, I’m all good.” He pulled back to smile at her reassuringly. She gave a small smile in response before Dustin was pushing Steve away from them and hugging her himself.

“You swung that thing like a Hot Wheel!” He laughed. Some of the Party members, specifically Jonathan and Nancy, were looking at Steve in confusion.

“Lucas?” Erica spoke.

“What are you doing here?” Lucas asked her, throwing his hands out to his sides.

“Ask them, it’s their fault!” She pointed at them and Steve couldn’t even defend himself.

“True yeah, that’s totally true. It’s absolutely our fault.”

“I don’t understand what happened to that car,” Robin said desperately, her brain was scrambling for a logical explanation but it wouldn’t find one.

Dustin ripped off the bandaid for her and said, “El has superpowers.”

“I’m sorry?” She asked.

Usually Steve would be nicer and more patient considering he’d reacted the same way just last year. But these were trying times and he didn’t have any more patience to spare. “Superpowers. She threw it with her mind. C’mon, catch up.”

“That’s El?” Erica asked, her eyes lighting up in recognition.

“Who’s El?” Robin squinted, still confused with the lackluster explanation she’d received.

“I’m sorry, who are you?” Nancy said in her passive-aggressive way that was condescendingly polite.

“I’m Robin, I work with Steve.”

“She cracked the top secret code,” Dustin defended her.

“Yeah which is how we found out about the Russians in the first place,” Steve added. He wasn’t going to let some twerp upstage him in sticking up for his new best friend.

“Russians? Wait, what Russians?” Jonathan asked confusedly.

“The Russians!” Steve wasn’t sure how he wasn’t understanding. There wasn’t a clearer way to say it.

“Those were Russians?” Max asked.

“Some of them,” Erica answered her, clearing absolutely nothing up for anyone.

“What are you talking about?” Lucas exasperatedly questioned.

“Did you hear our code red?” Dustin asked.

“Yeah but we couldn’t understand half of what you were saying,” Mike yelled at him.

“Goddamn low battery!”

“How many times do I have to tell you with the low battery?!” Steve yelled for emphasis. He’d reminded him so many times to carry extras!

“‘Kay, well everything worked out, didn’t it, Steve?” The little bastard had the nerve to sass him right now?

“‘Worked out’? We almost died!” Erica pointed out.

“Yeah, but we didn’t, did we?”

“We were pretty damn close…” Steve trailed off when he noticed Eleven walking away. Her steps were labored and her hands shook at her sides. He saw her bring her hands to her ears for a moment before she whimpered and fell to the ground. “El!”

He dropped to her side just a second before Mike did.

“My leg, my leg,” she whimpered. Steve could do little more than to squeeze her hand and pet her hair as some of the kids ran to get supplies.

Something in her leg was moving and just seeing it in his peripheral had Steve feeling nauseous. Even more so when Jonathan pierced her skin with a cooking knife. “Oh my god, I’m going to puke.”

Jonathan digging around with a knife wasn’t helping anything and El’s screaming just got louder.

“Stop, stop, I can do it” She turned pleading eyes to Steve but he just shook his head in panic. He couldn’t do it. His telekinetic powers still sucked ass and irrationally, he didn’t want the party to find out about them. They might be fine with El’s but his were so much more morbid, there was no way they’d support them. He felt awful as he watched determination fill El’s eyes. She didn’t deserve to have to perform rudimentary surgery on herself just because Steve was squeamish and hadn’t been practicing his powers as well as he should.

Nevertheless, with some more screams and the last of her energy, El pulled it from her leg with her powers and threw the disgusting, fleshy tidbit as far from the group as possible. It tried to wiggle away and made some disgusting screeches and squeaks as it moved. But it only scooched a few inches before a boot slammed down on it. Then, there was Hopper. He was holding a gun and glancing between El and Steve with varying ranges of horror.

“Jesus Christ, what’ve you kids gotten yourselves into this time?” He asked them, already exasperated with the situation despite not hearing any of it. He looked between El and Steve, his eyes focusing on her cut up leg and Steve’s purpling face. “What the hell?”

All of the kids rushed over each other in their descriptions. Steve zoned out of most of it. This was all too much, too fast. His mind was whirring and he almost felt like he was back on drugs. “It destroyed the cabin? Okay, wait. Just to be clear, this big fleshy spider thing that hurt El. It’s some sort of gigantic… weapon?”

“Yes,” Nancy answered curtly.

“But instead of like, screws and metal, the Mindflayer made its weapon with melted people,” Steve raised an eyebrow to ask if he was hearing that right.

“Yes, exactly!” Nancy nodded.

“Yeah, okay. I-yeah, I’m just making sure.” He’d gone through some shit but this might be the most disturbing thing he’d ever heard.

“Are we sure this thing is still out there, still alive?” Joyce asked them all.

“El beat the shit out of it but… yeah, it’s still alive,” Max told her regretfully.

“But if we close the gate again…” Will said.

“...and cut the brain off from it’s body,” Max continued.

“And kill it,” Lucas finished. “Theoretically.”

Steve was so fucking over this. He thought they were done with this once they beat the Russians. Now there was a fleshy monster killing people with mind powers? He sat on the bench with Robin, both of their minds melting together in solidarity. She’d joined at a bad time. The demogorgon and demodogs weren’t a walk in the park but something about this situation gave him a bad feeling. He didn’t like what was coming.

Steve let El and Hopper talk for a few minutes alone before he took her place. “Hey Hop.”

“What the hell, kid? I thought you were at work, how did you get roped into this?”

“I’m innocent! Dustin, man, he dragged me into this shit again. He came into Scoops with a Russian transmission so we decoded it, got stuck in an elevator, Robin and I got tortured by some Russians, I got killed again, and then we got really high and not in a good way. Where have you been?”

Hopper just looked at him blankly for a second before his whispers became furious. “You died again?! Goddammit Harrington! You have to be more careful, you can’t be so reckless with your life!”

“Oh, I’m sorry. I didn’t realize I had any control over being literally tortured by Russians!” Steve whisper-yelled, flailing his hands around in his own defense.

“Why didn’t you come to me about the transmission? The next time you hear something like that, I need you to come to me!” Hopper said, pointing an accusing finger at him.

“Yes Hop, I'll come find you immediately the next time a kid and I intercept a secret Russian communication. Trust me, I’ve learned my lesson.”

Hopper sighed and wrapped a burly arm around his shoulders. “I know, kid. Stay strong, okay? I just need you to give Henderson a ride to his radio tower and then you can recover out of the danger zone. And absolutely no more dying on me, alright? My heart can’t take it, kid.”

“I’ll do my best, old man.”

Hopper scoffed in laughter and ruffled his hair, “alright smartass, get going. Stay safe and I’ll see you when this is over.”

“Sounds good Hop, stay safe.” With another hug in parting, Steve led the way to the Toddfather. The only good thing about this entire situation was getting to drive that beauty. They squabbled on the way there and Steve was able to tune out and let himself think.

It didn’t feel right to be leaving the rest of the Party there when there were so many chances of things going wrong. Since day one, he’d been the one to lay his life on the line to protect everyone. But now, he was driving away to play chauffeur. It just felt wrong and the pit in his stomach only grew larger for each mile further he drove.

When they did get to Cerebro at Weathertop, he saw the lights of town start to flicker and the Starcourt portion of the Party wasn’t answering the radio. Steve’s gut was telling him to get back there and it hadn’t steered him wrong yet. He started running to the car, he had to get them out of there.

“Where are you going?!” He only paused slightly to answer Erica’s question.

“To get them the hell out of there. Stay here, contact the others!” And then he was off once again. He barely noticed Robin running after him or hopping next to him in the car. They each stayed silent on the drive, far too aware of the looming danger that they were approaching.

Steve pressed on the gas pedal and didn’t lift up when he saw Billy’s camaro heading straight towards the Wheeler’s station wagon with the kids in it. He pressed down harder and didn’t stop until his world snapped black in the collision.

Steve’s eyes opened to a pitch black world. Shit, he was back in the blank space. While his aches and pains were gone and a feeling of safety blanketed him, there was an undercurrent of panic. Hopper told him not to die again and less than thirty minutes later, here he was… dead from an ill-conceived suicide run. And Robin! Was she okay? He hadn’t wanted her to come with him but there hadn’t been any time for words to be exchanged. He needed her to be alright, he needed his best friend.

He also needed to wake up. When he focused on finding his body in the blank space, he saw Jonathan, Nancy, and Robin lugging it from the front seat of the Toddfather into the trunk of the Station Wagon. He saw Robin crying where she cradled his head and saw the kids watching on in horror from their spots in the backseat. He needed to wake up now.

Steve focused all of his energy into touching his own corpse, of forcing his way back to consciousness. And… it worked. The blank space blurred for a second before his eyes were blinking open, staring directly into Robin’s. The whole car let out a sigh of relief. They hadn’t lost him after all.

For Steve, the rest of the night passed in a haze. He distantly remembered pain, fear, a particularly confusing moment of Dustin singing over the radio, and bright flashes of color. His body went on auto-pilot as his mind lagged behind. However, everything became disturbingly clear again when he was sat on the bumper of the ambulance outside of the still-smoking mall.

When he saw Joyce hugging Will, the bad feeling that was clogging this throat the entire night sparked to life. It was at that exact moment that he knew Hopper was dead. He would have come out with her to hug El, and Steve, the second he could. For him not to be there, he had to be dead.

A feeling of bitterness overcame him. What made Steve more deserving of this power than Hopper? Good, pure Hopper that took in two scared and lonely kids. Jim Hopper, the Chief of Police that risked his life to ensure that no one else would have to worry about the Upside Down. Hop, the guy that became his dad even though Steve was a bitch at least half the time.

Instead of a girl hugging her father, he saw El standing alone in the middle of the chaos. She was watching Joyce and Will embrace with tears in her eyes. She knew as well as he did that Hopper was gone.

Steve couldn’t let his little sister deal with her grief alone. He pulled his aching body up from where it sat on the bumper of the ambulance and forced himself over to comfort her. As soon as she caught eyes with him, El ran straight into his arms.

“El, it’s going to be okay.”

“I am sad, Seven. Hop… he is dead,” her tears wet his already ruined shirt and his streaked down his face to match.

“I know and that hurts. It’s okay to be sad, I’m sad too. But we still have each other, right?” He tried to reassure her but he could tell it wasn’t helping much.

“Steve, you are okay?” She asked into his chest.

“Yeah, I will be.” He nodded. He had to be.

Joyce came over to them then and shot a puzzled look at Steve before turning to El. “El, I’m so sorry about your dad but you can stay with us now, okay? We can go back to my house now.”

“But Steve?”

“Steve has to go back to his parents now,” she didn’t seem to notice his sudden pallor but El did. “He should go to the hospital too. Steve, you took some nasty hits so you should get checked out in the ER.”

“Yeah, I’ll go do that Mrs. Byers. El, go with her okay? I’ll see you in a few days, I’ll stop by.”

“No brother, I want to go with you! Hop would-” He cut her off with a gentle shake of his head.

“El, I have to go get checked out. Mrs. Byers is going to take you home and I’ll call later. Okay, I promise.”

“Promise.” El repeated, staring at him uneasily.

“Yeah, I promise. Go ahead.”

She was still reluctant to leave him but eventually, Joyce was able to pull her away with one arm around her and the other wrapped around Will.

Then, Steve was left alone. Despite what he said, he was not going to the hospital. He was pretty sure he had a concussion but it wasn’t like it could kill him. And he certainly wasn’t going back to the destroyed cabin that held too many bittersweet memories or his parents house that he hadn’t been to in months.

He still didn’t have his car keys so he walked. He walked all the way to the only place that he could now consider safe. The only place he could relax and feel loved. And as the trailer door opened to reveal Eddie Munson, Steve knew that he made the right choice.

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Part 14

#Steve isn't thinking about his date anymore he just wants to go somewhere where he can grieve his dad in peace #Eddie is the only place he feels safe #Joyce doesn't know why El likes Steve so much but to her he's still the guy that would bully her kid #She doesn't care that hopper took him in- he's still just a troublesome kid to her #Eddie just wants to know why the boy he likes/his best friend is wearing a sailor's outfit covered in blood with bruises all over his face #stranger things #fanfic #steddie #steddie fic #second fic!#Steve Harrington has powers #steve harrington #eddie munson #robin buckley #dustin henderson #erica sinclair #chief jim hopper #eleven hopper #joyce byers

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