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roosterforme · 8 months ago

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Some Things Take Time | Bob Floyd x Reader

Summary: Bob is a man well known for his patience. He never rushes things in the air, and he tries to live by a similar philosophy on the ground. You and he are both on the same page about welcoming a child into your home through foster care, but it's hard for him to watch you try to bond with her unsuccessfully. He soon realizes that Avery is a lot like him, and that some things are worth the extra time.

Warnings: angst, fluff, mentions of infertility, mentions of foster care and adoption, Bob making all other men look like trash

Length: 5800 words

Pairing: Robert "Bob" Floyd x wife!reader

Happy birthday @wkndwlff! Check my masterlist for more!

You were laying on the couch with your head resting on your husband's lap, spinning his wedding band around on his finger while you tried to put your thoughts into words. You could tell he knew you were on the verge of speaking, sending you several expectant glances as you and he both pretended to watch the movie he started an hour ago. But Bob would never rush you, and you were thankful for that, because you wanted to make sure you got this right.

"We've been trying for a long time," you whispered, and Bob's blue eyes met yours as you looked up at him. "Almost two years."

He nodded once and smiled softly. "We have," he murmured, squeezing your hand in his larger one. You pressed your lips together as tears stung your eyes. Bob never seemed upset that he was pushing forty years old and in spite of trying and trying, you'd never gotten pregnant. He never put pressure on you to keep trying or to stop. You were convinced he never would, but you wanted to know what he was really thinking.

"What if we... stopped. Stopped trying. And just went with an alternative?"

"Honey, I already told you I'm happy with things how they are. We can stop trying if you want to, or we can talk about alternatives if you want to do that. But there's nothing wrong with just you and me. In fact, I'm really quite enjoying myself."

You closed your eyes as his fingers drifted along the curves of your side. It would be delicious to get back into the habit of having sex when you wanted to instead of when your cycle demanded it. You and Bob sharing your undivided attention with each other was something you were craving, but you still wanted something else, too.

"What if I said I wanted to look into fostering and adoption again?" you asked softly as you started to sit up.

He pulled you closer so you were straddling his thigh. "Then I would say we can call our lawyer on Monday and get some answers."

You smiled as you nudged his glasses with your nose and kissed his cheek. "And what if I said I'm not fertile today, but I want you anyway?"

Bob reached for the remote and turned the movie off as a soft blush rose in his cheeks. "Then I would say it's time we got in bed, Honey."

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Bob was a man who was well known for his patience. He never rushed things in the air, and he tried to live by a similar philosophy on the ground. He knew he wanted to marry you about halfway through the first date. He also knew you would have looked at him like he was insane if he admitted that to you halfway through the first date. So instead of rushing things, he took the time to make sure you were on the same page he was and that you were comfortable. He always tried to do that.

When a baby just didn't seem to be happening, he was more than willing to keep trying, but he was also completely content with the idea of no kids at all. It wasn't worth rushing anything as long as he had you in his life. But you had recently convinced him of a third option, and his lawyer helped the two of you smooth out the details.

And this is how Avery ended up at Bob's house on a random Monday evening. She was eight years old and in need of a foster family, and you were adamant when you answered the phone call that you and Bob were more than ready for her to be dropped off even on such short notice.

"I'm so nervous," you whispered as you held Bob's hand and watched through the front window as a van pulled up.

"I'm excited," he told you with a soft laugh. When he thought about having kids, he always pictured a little girl. For some reason, the idea of reading princess stories and painting a bedroom a putrid shade of purple really appealed to him. As he watched Avery being led up the walkway, he realized she didn't look one bit like you or him. He also realized that having a child who resembled him was actually never part of his dreams.

As the doorbell rang, you bounced in place and whispered, "She's here. She's really here."

Bob pulled you in for a kiss as his heart thudded. He realized he needed to tamp down his excitement a little bit. The two of you were merely fostering Avery. Nothing was set in stone even though you told the lawyer you wanted to eventually adopt a child. But right now your eyes were glittering with hope and anticipation, and Bob couldn't take that away from you.

"Let's make her feel welcome," he said as you both headed for the door.

Avery stood there with an unreadable expression on her adorable face, and Bob noticed right away how the case worker seemed to rush through everything. There were papers to sign and a schedule to keep, and even though all of it pertained to Avery, she ended up sitting quietly at the kitchen table while everyone else talked about her.

It was late by the time you and Bob were alone with her, and now her unreadable expression looked something like sadness. "Avery," Bob said softly. "Do you want to see your bedroom?"

She looked up at him and nodded without saying a word, and then you helped her down from the chair. You had taken the time to freshen up the extra bedroom and buy a pink glitter toothbrush and a pair of pajamas in her size. But Avery just sat down on the edge of the bed with her bag and asked, "Do I have to go to school tomorrow?"

"Yes," Bob replied with a smile. "I'll drop you off on my way to work, and then I'll pick you up in the afternoon."

When she didn't respond, you asked, "Is there anything you want? A bedtime snack or something to drink? I could make you some hot chocolate or get you a cookie. Bob makes the best oatmeal cookies, and there are a few left from the weekend. Maybe you can help Bob make the next batch." You were rambling now, and Bob reached out to squeeze your hand as you said, "We're just excited that you're here."

But Avery shook her head and told you, "I'll just read my book. Thanks." Then she untied her shoes and took a well worn copy of The Secret Garden from her bag, but she sat on the bed with rigid posture, not looking at either of you.

Bob wasn't quite sure what to do. You'd already shown the child where the bathroom was, and she seemed to have all of her essentials. He swallowed hard, deciding not to rush Avery even though he could feel your disappointment radiating off of you. He cleared his throat and said, "We'll leave our bedroom door open in case you need anything. And we'll get you up around seven for school. Good night, Avery."

She just nodded and squinted down at the tattered book cover like she was going to cry. Bob led you down the hallway, through your room and into the en suite bathroom where he gathered you in his arms as tears filled your eyes. "I don't think she likes us," you gasped before you buried your face against his neck.

Bob kissed the top of your head and whispered, "I just think she needs some time. Let's not rush anything."

-------------------------

You cried yourself to sleep the first night. You knew that your response wasn't fair to Bob or Avery or even to yourself, but you'd imagined meeting a little girl who was at least a little bit more talkative if not upbeat. You had your hopes set on fostering a child who at least gave the impression that your home was better than another alternative. You'd been given a vague picture of where Avery had come from, and you wanted her to be comfortable here, but now you felt stupid for buying the glitter toothbrush and the Minnie Mouse pajamas.

Bob's hand drew lazy circles on your back as you turned away from him and cried softly. "It's just the first night," he reminded you in that sweet, even tone that you loved so much.

"I know. I just wanted this so desperately," you admitted between shaky breaths. His hand on your body helped you eventually fall asleep, and the next morning, Bob was up before you, making breakfast. When you tapped on Avery's door which was ajar, you poked your head in to find her once again sitting on the bed reading.

"Did you sleep okay?" you asked, and she nodded in response. "That's great!" you said in a tone of forced excitement. "Do you need help getting ready for school?"

"No," she said softly, setting the book aside.

You took a deep breath and said, "Bob's making breakfast. Do you want to come downstairs and eat?"

"Yes."

That was the last word you heard her speak before Bob led her out to his car in his uniform. He smiled at you over his shoulder as he told you to have a good day working on your true crime novel, but you knew you weren't going to. You spend two hours trying to write, but you ended up with three and a half new sentences. Instead, you spent most of the day thinking you'd made a huge mistake and hating your own body. Avery would probably last two weeks tops with you and Bob before she was begging to go somewhere else. You didn't even know if you could stand to see her melancholy little expression when your husband brought her home from school today, but you didn't want to call her case worker for help yet.

In the afternoon, you bought everything you needed to make oatmeal cookies along with the rest of your usual groceries. You paused next to the checkout line where there was a display of children's books and grabbed a few of them. Avery appeared to like her book more than anything else, so maybe she would appreciate these ones, too.

But when Bob brought Avery home with him after school, she barely spoke. She didn't want to help make any cookies, and after dinner, she went back to her bedroom. Bob tried to help her with her homework, but she told him it was easy and she already finished it. When you dropped off the new books, she told you she already had a favorite.

"Oh," you said, standing in the doorway with your hands full of the unwanted books. "That's good... that you have a favorite. I have a favorite book, too."

She looked up at you and nodded, but soon you were backing out of the room and trying to hide your tears from Bob. "It takes time," he reassured you as you balled your hands into fists and cried on him again.

You knew you needed to be as patient as he always was, but you just weren't like him. And you started talking before you could stop yourself. "If we could have gotten pregnant, we'd have our own child," you sobbed. "One that we raised from day one who would love us and bake cookies and read new books."

Bob kissed your ear and whispered, "Nothing is easy, Honey. But sometimes the harder something is at first, the more rewarding it is later on."

You cried yourself to sleep again.

------------------------

Bob tried his best for that first week. He watched you start to pull away and retreat into yourself the more Avery kept to her bedroom. Every day when he dropped her off and picked her up, she thanked him for the ride. When he asked if she would rather start taking the bus, she told him it didn't matter. When he asked if there was something special she wanted to eat for dinner, she said she wasn't picky.

And all the while she just squinted down at her book. Just The Secret Garden even though you brought home some others. When he pulled up to the curb in front of her school one morning, he said, "Avery, would you like me to take you to the library one day? Or maybe a bookstore where you can pick out what you want?"

She looked at him as she grabbed her backpack in one hand and her book in the other. "Maybe." Then she climbed out of the car, and he waited to pull away until she was inside the school building. That was the most promising answer he'd received yet. He drove to work thinking about signing her up for a library card, and when he got there, he was in a much better mood.

Natasha was the only one who knew that Avery was under his care. He didn't want to give anyone too many details, but she sweetly asked him the same question every morning after they got to work. "How are you and the Mrs. making out with your houseguest?"

And this morning, he said, "Maybe a little better today, Nat. I'm just trying not to rush it."

She patted him on the chest and smiled. "You never do, Bob. You're a man of details."

She was right. He spent the day thinking about all of the details that he knew about Avery. She was eight years old and very quiet. She only wanted to read one book even though you offered her more. She seemed to find the most comfort when she was alone. She was honestly a lot like Bob.

When he picked Avery up from school, he watched as one of the teachers patted the top of her backpack and sent her on her way. She squinted toward his car before trudging over in his direction with a frown on her face. Bob sighed as she climbed into the backseat and buckled herself in. "How was your day, Avery?" he asked as he shifted into drive. But today he got no verbal response at all. Instead he heard her crying.

Without another word, Bob pulled his car around and into an empty parking spot before killing the engine. He opened his door and closed it before taking a few deep breaths, and then he climbed in the back door and settled in next to the crying child. He let one hand gently rest on her shoulder, giving her a small squeeze before asking, "Do you want to talk about what's bothering you?"

She just shook her head as tears flowed down her cheeks, and she stared at her feet. "It's stupid."

Bob smiled slightly. "You might think so, but I'd probably find what you have to say fascinating."

She turned her head to look at him, examining his face to see if he was being honest. But of course he was. He just wanted her to tell him what was on her mind. It took a few minutes before she started to settle down, but eventually she said, "I failed my eye exam with the nurse today." She unzipped her bag and pulled out a yellow sheet of paper and handed it to him. "She told me my eyesight is terrible and that I need to get glasses."

Bob looked at the page and had to hide his alarm from her. Avery failed her eye exam spectacularly. It was a wonder to Bob that she was even able to see in her classroom. But now her squinting and her preference for one, well worn book were starting to make sense. As he filled in the blanks in his mind, he said, "Glasses aren't so bad," while he tapped his own silver frames. "They certainly make my day a lot easier."

She kind of rolled her eyes and said, "But you're an adult. People aren't going to make fun of you for wearing glasses."

"You think you'll get made fun of?" Bob asked softly, folding the yellow paper in half.

"Yes," she replied immediately as she wiped at her tears. "I already do. Glasses will make it so much worse."

Bob wanted to press her for more details, but he didn't think this was the right moment. Instead he asked, "Is that why you only like to read The Secret Garden? Because you already know most of the words by heart?"

Avery looked at him like she couldn't believe he solved a very complex riddle. "Yes."

He nodded and asked, "Would you like to be able to read other books, too? Because glasses would definitely help with that."

She shrugged and sniffed as she said, "I like books about gardens and flowers and fairies. I don't know of any other ones I would like anyway."

Bob patted her on the shoulder one more time and said, "I like those kinds of books, too. And I think I can help you get glasses that look cool and help you pick out more books. If you'll let me."

Another partial shrug was his only answer, but at least she wasn't telling him no. As he climbed back into the driver's seat, he sent you a quick text telling you that he and Avery were fine and to go ahead and have dinner on your own. Then he drove along to his optometrist's office, hoping they would squeeze an extra appointment into their schedule.

"You're in luck," the receptionist told him when they arrived. "There was a last minute cancellation. Have a seat, and we can take you back shortly."

The rack hanging on the wall was filled with books and magazines for people of all ages, but Bob watched Avery squint as she took a seat empty handed. He skimmed a magazine and offered to read an article to her, but she said no. When ten minutes had passed, Bob asked her, "Are the kids at school mean to you?"

He was already considering other options that might make her feel more comfortable when she said, "I just don't fit in. Everyone else has parents or grandparents. Everyone else is loud, and I like it better when it's quiet. Everyone else already made friends."

Bob nodded his head. It was like she was living his own childhood in many ways. "I like it better when it's quiet, too. So does my wife. And making friends can be hard at any age. I still struggle with it."

"You do?" she asked him, eyes wide and interested.

"Absolutely. Sometimes I still get nervous and stumble over what I want to say, and I'm thirty-nine. And you know what?"

"What?"

"There's nothing wrong with that."

He watched Avery take a deep breath and look down at her hands before both of their names were called. Once they were in the exam room, Bob got to witness her fail the test for the second time in one day, and then her tears started up again. The crying was only made worse when the receptionist popped in and tried to quietly tell Bob that Avery wasn't approved for any vision insurance.

The child was clearly smart as a whip, and if she was having a hard time fitting in at school, he didn't want to make it worse by making her feel like she didn't fit in with you and him either. "I was planning on paying out of pocket today," he told the receptionist who just nodded in response. Then he turned to Avery and said, "Looks like the nurse was right. How about we pick out some glasses?"

She looked at the displays while she wiped at her eyes with a tissue, but she wouldn't tell Bob which ones she wanted to try on. "Which ones are the cheapest?" she asked softly.

"I have no idea," Bob replied easily. "What's your favorite color?"

"Purple," she whispered, and Bob followed her squinting gaze to a purple frame sitting on a shelf above her head.

"I like purple, too," he said as he reached them down and handed them to her. She held them for a couple minutes, and Bob decided not to rush her. She finally slipped them on and looked in the mirror, and he told her, "I think they look cool."

She nodded a little bit. "They're pretty good. But nobody else at school has purple glasses."

As she removed them and tried to hand them back to him, Bob quickly looked at the adult sized frames. There was one pair that came in a deep purple, and he kind of liked them. "Just hang onto those for a minute. I need help picking out new glasses for myself, okay? What do you think about these?"

When he removed his wire frames and replaced them with the purple plastic, it seemed like Avery couldn't help but smile. "I like them."

He nodded once. "Then I'll get them. That way we can match since we both like purple. Thanks for your help."

"You're welcome," she replied quietly, looking at the glasses she was still holding before handing them to Bob.

He took both pairs in his hand before nodding toward the door. "I'm feeling like it's a good day to get ice cream for dinner and look around the bookstore. I can think of at least two more books that you might like to read once your glasses are ready for you to wear. Sound good?"

"Yes."

--------------------------

You didn't know what to expect when Bob brought Avery home after seven o'clock on a school night, but you definitely weren't prepared to hear her laughter for the first time. You'd barely made any progress on your novel since Avery arrived a few weeks ago, merely existing in your own funk all day long. But the sound of Bob's voice followed by her light giggle as they walked inside left you feeling better than you had in ages.

"Hi," you said, your voice dripping with optimism as Bob headed your way with a shopping bag in his hand.

"Hi, Honey," he replied, kissing your cheek while Avery took her shoes off.

"How was school?" you asked her.

"Terrible," she told you with a smile aimed up at Bob. "I failed my eye exam."

"Oh," you gasped, already making a mental note to call the eye doctor first thing in the morning so she could get some glasses. "We can take care of it for you."

"Already did," Bob said as he squeezed your hand. "Stopped on the way home and picked them out. Should be ready next week."

"Really?" you asked in surprise as he pulled two books out of the bag. Both were covered in vines and flowers, but one was clearly a novel for an adult while the other was much slimmer and looked like it was for Avery's reading level.

"Yes," he replied softly. "Now, on the drive home, I told Avery that you're a writer, but that you're also really good at reading books out loud." When you nodded and looked at her, she was squinting up at you. Bob handed you the smaller book and said, "I didn't get to take a shower before I left work, so I need to go do that now. But I promised Avery that you'd read a chapter to her after she gets ready for bed." He patted her on the shoulder and then made his way upstairs.

Your head was swimming with information. New glasses and new books and a child who was looking up at you with hope in her eyes. A husband who set up some time for you to spend alone with her. Tears stung your eyes as you said, "I love reading books out loud. Do you want to change for bed and brush your teeth now?"

Ten minutes later, you were sitting next to Avery on the spare bed, reading to her about a magical garden filled with flowers that turned the characters into superheroes. You read all sixteen pages of the first chapter, and then she asked you to read more.

It was a little bit past bedtime when you finished the third chapter, and she was yawning. "How about I go get you one of my bookmarks from my office? And we can read more tomorrow night?"

"Okay," she replied easily, and when you returned a minute later with a bookmark that had a purple tassel, she smiled. "I like this book so far, but I think I'd like it a lot better if there were fairies, too. Thank you for reading to me."

"You're very welcome," you told her, barely shutting off the light in time for a tear to slide down your cheek. "Goodnight, Avery."

When you rushed into your own bedroom, Bob was in bed reading the other new book. "How did you do it?" you asked him, quickly climbing under the covers with him. "How did you get her to open up a little bit?"

He set the book down with a soft smile. "She just needed some time, Honey. She's a lot like me. She can't be rushed."

"No," you said, pushing your fingers through his hair as you cried a little bit. "That's not it. I think you're actually magical."

"Maybe," he agreed. "But her vision is so bad. That's why I think she kept reading The Secret Garden. She probably has it memorized and didn't want to tell anyone she couldn't see."

"Poor thing," you whispered, realizing that most of Bob's magic came from his patience as you fell asleep in his arms.

-------------------------

A week later, Bob noticed you were exhausted, but you seemed a lot happier, because Avery seemed a lot happier. You had successfully read two books to her, and she was starting to become more vocal around the house. He was hoping she was having an easier time making friends at school now, too. But he was a little bit concerned with how late into the night you'd been working.

When he got a message around lunchtime letting him know both pairs of glasses were ready, he smiled. Pretty soon Avery would be able to attempt reading a new book on her own. He sent you a text letting you know that he'd be home with Avery after a quick stop back at the optometrist's office. And when he picked her up from school, she squinted at his car before climbing in the backseat.

"Ready to go get our new glasses?" he asked before pulling out onto the road.

"Yes," she replied softly. "I've decided that wearing glasses is a better alternative than not being able to read new books. At least until I can get contacts."

Bob chuckled. "A wise choice."

A few seconds later, she asked, "Will you take me to the library this weekend? There have to be more books there that I'd like."

"Of course I'll take you to the library. We can ask the librarian to help you find you as many books as you want to read."

He hoped that would make the new glasses an even easier decision for her. He parked and led her inside where the eye doctor got them both fitted correctly before handing them a mirror. "What do you think?" Bob asked as he smiled at Avery. "I think they look cool on you."

She shrugged. "They're okay."

"Can you see better?"

"Yes," she whispered. On the way outside, she said, "Thanks for getting new glasses with me. I like yours, too."

Bob checked himself in the mirror before he backed out of the parking spot. "I think it's kind of my color."

You were waiting in the living room for them when Bob opened the front door. The house smelled like dinner cooking, and you had a stack of bound pages on the couch next to you. When you jumped to your feet, you said, "You both look great!" as you bounced in place a little bit.

"Purple is kind of our color," Avery said, making Bob laugh as you covered your massive smile with your fingertips.

"It really is," you replied, wrapping Bob in a quick hug before cautiously placing your hand on Avery's shoulder for a beat. "I have something I wanted to show you. I was hoping to get your opinion."

"Me?" she asked, looking up at you, eyes wide behind her purple frames.

"Yes," you told her softly. "I've been working on a new story for the past week, and I really think you'll be able to help me with the ending."

"What kind of story?" she asked you, and Bob slowly made his way into the kitchen where he could still hear the two of you talking.

"Well," you told her as she joined you on the couch, "it's about a fairy who gets invited to live in a magic garden. And she starts to learn how to use magic herself while a friendly witch and a kind wizard supervise her. And the garden is really pretty, and she loves it there and starts to make friends with the other creatures. Do you want to take a look at it?"

"Okay."

Bob hovered in the doorway and watched you hand the bound manuscript to the little girl next to you while you chewed nervously on your lip. He knew you wanted this to work out; he did too. He was also very surprised that you'd been working on this for the past week without sharing your secret even with him. But it truthfully wasn't really for him. It was for her. And you.

The child looked up at you and whispered, "You named the fairy Avery."

You just nodded and smiled. "Your name is so pretty, and you remind me of the kind of little girl who would have magic inside her."

Avery turned back to the page in front of her and snuggled in a little bit closer to you. She started reading out loud, and after a few pages, handed it over to you for a little bit. The two of you went back and forth like this for an hour before Bob carried in two plates of dinner and set them on the coffee table.

"Even magic fairies get hungry," he said softly before leaving both of you to the story.

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When you woke up a few weeks later on Avery's ninth birthday, you were beyond exhausted. The past few nights had been late ones for you as you tried to finish up and edit the story you'd been working on. The title that the two of you came up with was The Littlest Fairy in the Garden, and you were just as proud of this as your true crime releases.

Then you realized that there was actually a reason why you woke up. You could hear Bob talking. It sounded like he was on the phone even though it was barely eight o'clock. You climbed out of bed and stretched before finding him sitting on the floor in the walk-in closet talking softly on the phone in his pajama pants, undershirt and purple glasses.

"I'm sure she's going to agree with me. We want to move forward if that's what Avery wants, but I'll call you back in an hour or two. Thank you so much."

He ended the call right when you asked, "Who was that?"

Bob jumped a bit as he looked up at you with a tentative smile. "Our lawyer," he whispered.

"What did they say?" you whispered back as he got to his feet and wrapped his arms around you.

When Bob's lips found your ear, you shivered at his words. "It was just a preliminary conversation, but they asked if we would be interested in pursuing adoption."

"With Avery?" you gasped, and he nodded against you.

"Yes. With Avery."

Tears filled your eyes as you clung to him. You thought about all the books she'd been reading with you and the birthday cake waiting in the kitchen. You could practically still smell the oatmeal cookies she and Bob made a few days ago. You could picture her smile and imagine her laughter, both of which were coming more easily with each passing day. "I want to adopt her. She belongs here. With us."

"I think so, too," he replied immediately, and you could hear the unshed tears in her voice. "I think we should have a conversation with her about it today. The process could take a little time, but I want to be sure it's what she wants as well."

You nodded, a jerky motion against him as your heart pounded faster and faster. "Let's talk about it when she wakes up."

Bob led you downstairs to the kitchen, his fingers laced with yours, and he started to crack some eggs while you made coffee and fresh orange juice. Avery had picked the menu for each meal today for her birthday, and the plan was to take her to the zoo after lunch. There was currently a purple banner with flowers and fairies on it stretched across the kitchen along with a large assortment of balloons. You couldn't remember being this excited about something in such a long time.

"Good morning," came a soft voice from the bottom of the stairs, and you nearly dropped a mug on the floor as you turned to look at her.

"Happy birthday!" you and Bob replied in unison, and then all three of you started laughing.

Without another word, Avery made her way into the kitchen in her Minnie Mouse pajamas and gave you a hug around the waist. You gasped softly as you hugged her back, her purple glasses pressing against you. Then she tucked herself against Bob's side and hugged him right after that. "Thanks for all the birthday stuff. And thanks for being so nice to me and getting me glasses and everything."

You and Bob shared a look over her head as he rubbed his hand along her shoulder. "It makes us happy that you're here, Avery," he said softly, and you had to swipe at your tears. "Let's have your breakfast, and maybe we can talk about making this permanent."

"Permanent? Like me staying here for a while?" she asked softly as she looked up at him.

"Like you staying here forever."

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This is a little birthday treat for @wkndwlff! I hope you have a great day, Taylor! I set out to write a nice little story based on this mood board, but somehow it turned into this angsty thing instead. Thanks to @sylviebell @mak-32 and @beyondthesefourwalls

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8thhousekat · 3 months ago

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☕️Virgo Venus☕️

☕️extremely kind individuals they are always trying to help others

☕️Virgo Venuses may try to fix people or their loved ones problems (sometimes this is too much for them but they help anyways because they love them so much)

☕️they can come off critical to others but trust me when I say this they are so much harder on themselves:(

☕️I love their humor I’ve never met a Virgo Venus that didn’t have the whole room on the floor laughing

☕️they are perfectionists when it comes to their appearance

☕️ when they are in love they pay attention to everything their person does or says

☕️a lot of people say their love language is acts of service and it is one of them for sure but they also really like words of affirmation

☕️they pay attention to the details of things like the smaller stuff no one notices

☕️they have stomach issues 🫠

☕️they are very mind over heart people

☕️they will always have a place in their heart for the people they loved or love 🌹

☕️Virgo Venuses are my favorite Venus sign (not an observation I just needed to add an unnecessary opinion)

☕️they could either be really messy or clean freaks 😭

☕️they LOVE MAKING MONEY. And they are good at it

☕️most Virgo Venus people can be really shy when they like someone

☕️they don’t like dishonesty or people beating around the bush

☕️they are attracted to intelligence

☕️they get upset when someone doesn’t have common sense

☕️zero tolerance for people not wanting to better themselves

☕️they are very picky with clothes (and the people they choose to be around)😭

☕️don’t let them fool you they day dream about their crushes

☕️they need stability in a relationship

☕️ they do get the ick super easily but if you truly like someone they will just throw that idk out of the window and hit it with a car

☕️they have a hard time talking about their emotions (unless they have a lot of water placements)

☕️they are very devoted people they also could get stressed out easily

☕️they bring logical explanation to the function that everyone loves 🤓🤓

☕️they can catch feelings really easily but they hide it

☕️they are very informed about topics or even hobbies that they have

Virgo Venus celebrities

-Mila Kunis

-Kim Kardashian

-Kylie Jenner

-Adam Sandler

-Eminem

-Julia Roberts

-Demi Lovato

-Robbin Williams

-Bella Hadid

Thank you guys for reading I love Virgo Venuses sm 😭 the next Venus sign will be libra 🩷

#virgo venus #astrology #astro community #venus signs #astrology content #astro placements #astro observations #venus #astrology interpretation #astrology side of tumblr #astro notes #venus in virgo #virgo

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bradshawssugarbaby · 8 months ago

Text

Hurricane - Bradley Bradshaw x Reader

summary: Bradley's regretted breaking off his relationship with you for months, but when he sees you walking into the country club after his round of golf, he knows he has to fix things.

a/n: I haven't written much angst before but I'm really trying to branch out a little bit. Inspired by Hurricane by Luke Combs, and also this weird recurring dream I keep having.

pairing: Bradley Bradshaw x reader

warnings/content: buckle up bc there's a lot? angst (happy ending), parental death, depression, hurt, cancer, goose's accident + carole's reaction, carole literally never getting over losing goose, bradley being a commitmentphobe, pregnancy (i think that's it?), also entirely unrealistic bc you know what? I can't keep roo sad for long.

word count: 3.6k

taglist: @avengersfan25, @nouis-bum, @floydsmuse, @mamachasesmayhem, @jessicab1991, @atarmychick007, @b-bradshaw, @djs8891

Then you rolled in with your hair in the wind Baby, without warning I was doin' alright but just your sight Had my heart stormin'

Bradley narrowed his eyes beneath his sunglasses, the glare of the hot mid-morning sun harsh on his chocolate brown eyes. He grabbed his nine-iron from his golf bag, taking a practice swing before teeing up for his next shot. Bob, Jake, Reuben and Javy stood to the side behind him, watching as he lined up to take his shot. He hadn’t golfed in years, in fact, he’d only ever golfed a handful of times in his life, all of them back when he lived in Virginia. His uncle had taught him when he was 15, a welcome distraction when his mom became sick, and he’d gone out a few times when he was in college after a roommate of his on the school’s golf team had invited him out. He held his breath as he heard the club make contact with the small, white orb, watching as it soared through the air, disappearing somewhere onto the course. Jake let out an impressive whistle as he looked on, placing his hands on his hips as he shook his head in disbelief.

“You’ve never golfed before, Bradshaw? You sure?” He drawled, raising one of his manicured (though he’d deny it if asked) blonde eyebrows suspiciously.

“I told you, a handful of times. Not never.”

“You did say less than five,” Bob shrugged as he cleaned his glasses before replacing them on his nose. “Less than five suggests you haven’t really hit a course.”

“Not to mention you said in years. That was the swing of a man who’s at least hit a driving range a few times,” Reuben pointed out to the course in the general direction of where Bradley’s ball had landed as Javy, Bob and Jake nodded in agreement.

“I wish Nat had tagged along, she wouldn’t ride my ass this hard,” Bradley huffed, shaking his head.

“Nat doesn’t golf. You know that. She acted disgusted that I even asked,” Jake shrugged.

“Maybe it was how you asked,” Bob suggested as he disguised his jab at Jake as a helpful criticism.

“Just take your turn, Robert,” Jake hissed, rolling his eyes dramatically as Bob smirked.

Bradley normally would have joined in with a quip of his own directed at Jake, but his heart just wasn’t in it. His heart wasn’t even in the game. The only reason why he’d agreed to go golfing with the guys for their usual monthly game was because you left him. He needed to get over you and move on - it’d been six months and with no deployments coming up, he had nothing to focus 100% of his attention onto. Reuben had noticed it first - Bradley was withdrawn on nights out, his usually chatterbox self now quiet, calm and keeping to himself, barely breaking eye contact with his beer bottle. Then came Natasha’s barrage of questions - he knew she meant well, but God, it was hard to listen to.

He didn’t want to admit it to himself, but he knew why you left. And it was entirely his fault. You’d gotten upset because he’d stopped spending as much time with you, kept getting cold feet about committing to your relationship. He’d never tell you why he couldn’t commit - it was too hard for him to explain to anyone, really. In fact, he was fairly confident that Reuben was the only other person aware of it.

Bradley wanted to be the partner you needed - he really did. He wanted to be the doting, affectionate boyfriend who’d whisk you off somewhere beautiful, propose to you, start a family with 2.2 kids and a dog, cart the kids around to sports practices on weekends - the American dream. He knew you deserved that much. And yet, no matter how badly he wanted to give that to you - he couldn’t. He’d told you he didn’t want it - he didn’t want to get married, he didn’t want to have kids, he never wanted it. He watched you fall apart the minute the words left his mouth, and it killed him inside. He wanted to hold you close and tell you he was making a mistake, tell you it wasn’t true and he didn’t mean it, but he couldn’t.

He couldn’t, because he was terrified.

Growing up without his dad was one of the hardest things he could have experienced, he was sure of it. He was too young to truly remember how his mom reacted when she learned her husband had been killed in a training exercise, but he remembered her crying a lot, feeling paralyzed by loss and guilt, angry with the world for taking the man she loved away from her. He remembered as he grew up, she never remarried, never went on a date, never even as much as looked at another man. His dad was her everything, and losing him crushed her.

When she got sick, Bradley was a teenager - old enough to understand what it meant for her, what her odds of recovery were, and old enough to be realistic about the future. When they found out she wasn’t going to get better, he’d half expected her to react the way she did when his dad died, but instead, she seemed almost at peace with the idea. She’d spent 14 years of her life missing his dad, and she knew that, even though she was horrified by the thought of leaving Bradley on his own, she wouldn’t have to spend another minute missing her husband.

Bradley decided then that he’d never want to put someone through that. He’d never be able to hurt someone he loved like this - leave them widowed before they turned 30, alone with a toddler at home to raise on the opposite side of the country from their family and friends, with nothing but a military pension and an apology over his death.

It was at 16 years old that Bradley decided, if he wanted to become a pilot, he was going to have to spend life alone, and for the most part, he was ok with that.

That was, until he met you.

He tried to deny his feelings, pretending you were just a casual fling, some fun sex here and there between deployments and missions and nothing more. That was, until three months in, he accidentally told you he loved you. It wasn’t a lie, he did love you, but it caught him off guard when he said it - he didn’t mean to blow his cover and let his guard down like that. And when you said it back? He knew it was game over.

He tried his hardest to push his fears aside, he tried SO hard. He was getting older and beginning to realize he didn’t want to spend the rest of his life alone, especially as he neared the mandatory 20 years of service cutoff for aviators. He’d grown almost fond of the idea of settling down with you, seeing you with a ring on your finger, picturing you with a baby in you, his baby. He wanted it. He wanted all of it. But, the fears and anxiety he had reared its ugly head, and he couldn’t bring himself to get past it.

It was on their last mission, when he had to eject and landed in the middle of a snowy mountain, unsure if he’d make it back home to you. His mind raced with thoughts of how you’d react if he didn’t make it home - how you’d crumple to the floor when you saw the two uniformed officers on your doorstep, the blood-curdling scream you’d let out in pain when you heard them say it, tears staining your pretty little face as you were handed that folded American flag - he couldn’t bear it. He couldn’t stand the idea of putting you through everything his mom had gone through. Not when you were so young and had everything ahead of you. When you could find a man who wasn’t putting his life in danger nearly every damn day, risking himself and risking a chance he might not come home to you.

This golf trip was meant to take his mind off you. Reuben had mentioned it in passing to Jake and Bob, who exchanged worried looks with one another. Javy had overheard Nat’s line of questioning when he and Mickey returned to the table with a fresh round of beers, both of them offering Bradley silent looks of sympathy as they nodded in agreement to Nat’s advice. Bradley was struggling, in over his head with emotions and regret and sadness, but he knew he’d fucked it all up. And he knew that even if he tried, you wouldn’t want him back, and who could blame you?

Bob had suggested he reach out to you and apologize, and for a while, Bradley considered it. He strongly considered calling you, going to your house, begging for forgiveness and begging you to take him back, but after how you reacted when he broke things off with you, he wouldn’t even take him back. He’d been a dick in every sense of the word, and now, he had to try and move on, adjusting to life without you in it.

The next nine holes passed by with little conversation from Bradley and worried glances exchanged between his friends. He wasn’t in the mood for talking, he’d explain, shrugging the concern off before focusing back on the game. Bradley was thankful for his friends’ efforts, but it was beginning to feel like nothing would help him move on.

He slumped down into a chair at a table in the country club after their round of golf, sipping back the beer Jake bought him. He caught himself downing the liquid quicker than he should have, but at this point, being drunk would at least provide him with that much needed numbness he craved. He could hear Bob bickering with Jake over golf scores and who truly won, prompting an eye roll from Javy as he pulled the crumpled scoresheets from his pocket and placed them on the table. Reuben noticed the glazed over look in Bradley’s eye and clapped a sympathetic hand down on his shoulder.

Bradley was about to thank Reuben for being there for him when he saw your face. You were walking into the country club with a couple of your friends, laughing and smiling as you spoke.

God, he loved that smile.

He gulped back the rest of his drink before placing the glass back down on the table, the sound of Bradley slamming the glass down a little harder than he intended prompting Jake to spin his head around as he saw you.

“Oh..shit,” he murmured as Bob and Javy both turned to look discreetly towards you.

Bradley’s eyes widened as you walked past the bar, revealing a very unexpected new figure. He blinked his eyes a few times to ensure they weren’t playing tricks on him - positive that this had to be some kind of optical illusion or something. It was impossible. You couldn’t be.

“Pregnant.” Jake whispered as he leaned into the table, “She’s pregnant,”

“Did you know, Bradley?” Bob inquired as he pushed his glasses back up the bridge of his nose.

“N-no.” Bradley choked out, feeling the walls closing in around him as the room started to spin.

Without hesitation, Bradley rose from his seat and made his way over to you, despite the protests from Bob and Reuben, the two voices of reason to Javy and Jake’s voices of impulse. Bradley approached you cautiously, clearing his throat for a moment to garner your attention. You spun your head around, your cheeks rosy and your skin glowing with that pregnancy glow everyone always talked about. Bradley had never really believed in that kind of stuff, but you were proving him wrong.

“Bradley?” you asked, your face paleing to a shade of ghostly white.

“Can…can we talk, please? I need to talk to you,” Bradley rambled with desperation written on his face.

You huffed a sigh, nodding your head slowly as you excused yourself from your friends, who were now whispering and exchanging uncomfortable glances with one another. Bradley followed closely behind you as you stepped out into the fresh air, finding a discreet corner of the parking lot to discuss everything from the last six months.

“I…Is it mine?” Bradley whispered, almost afraid to hear the answer as his eyes wandered to the bump that was evident under your sundress.

You sighed again, following Bradley’s gaze down to your abdomen, a protective hand resting on your bump as you nodded slowly, humming in confirmation.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” He frowned, shaking his head quickly, “I-I, I would have helped you.”

“Bradley,” you said, narrowing your eyes and shaking your head quickly, “You told me you didn’t want this. You dumped me and told me you never wanted to settle down or have a family, you didn’t want to be with me anymore, and being in a long-term relationship wasn’t what you ever wanted. You told me you didn’t love me. So please, tell me why I should have told you?”

“Because,” he said softly, his heart aching as he heard your side of things, “I didn’t mean any of that. I was wrong.”

“Oh, you were wrong? Tell me, were you always wrong, or are you only wrong now that you’ve seen me six months later, heavily pregnant?”

Bradley was speechless. He gazed down at his feet, kicking at the pavement in his golf cleats. He sighed as he thought for a moment, taking a second of quiet reflection to compose his thoughts before speaking. He wanted to get this right. He couldn’t afford to fuck it up again.

“I was always wrong. I was wrong when I said it, and I knew I was wrong,” he shook his head vigorously before looking up to meet your gaze, “Did I ever tell you about my mom?”

“You told me she died when you were a teenager, and you didn’t really mention anything else about her. Or anyone in your family, for that matter.”

“Right,” he nodded his head slowly, taking a deep breath before beginning to explain. “My dad died when I was 2. He was an RIO, a Radar Intercept Officer. You know Maverick, right?”

“Mhmm,” you nodded slowly, a look of annoyance flashing across your face as you listened to Bradley, you were used to his excuses, and you were really hoping this wasn’t another one.

“So, Maverick was my dad’s pilot. Best friends. Did everything together. He was flying when my dad died, their plane lost control, had to eject, my dad hit the canopy. Died instantly.” Bradley paused, taking another deep breath as he felt himself getting choked up, “My mom, she, uh, she was really young. My dad was 25, my mom was 23. He was her high school sweetheart. She was devastated. I was too young to remember a lot, but I remember her hurting, and being sad all the time, unable to function some days because she just missed him so much,” he explained as tears began to roll down his cheeks.

“Bradley, I’m sorry,” you sighed, shaking your head as you sympathetically rubbed his bicep to comfort him.

“I just…when she died, she was…peaceful, I guess, because she knew she wouldn’t have to miss him anymore. She wouldn’t be lonely. She never remarried or dated after him, she couldn’t bring herself to. She’s buried with her wedding ring still on her finger. I couldn’t bring myself to take it off her,” he took another deep breath, exhaling sharply before looking up at you.

“I couldn’t do that to you,” he finally said, blinking back the tears that threatened to spill over again, “I couldn’t leave you like my mom. Heartbroken and alone your whole life. She never moved on, and I didn’t want that for you if we got married. God, I would have given anything to marry you. I would have taken you to the courthouse and married you on the spot if you would have agreed to it. But, I couldn’t risk breaking your heart. Not like that.”

“Bradley, you’ve always come home in one piece,” you said softly, fingers still stroking his upper arm soothingly.

“But I almost didn’t. I had to eject and all I could think about was you getting that knock at the door and going through what she went through, and I couldn’t do it. I couldn’t do that to you, or…or to a baby.”

You shook your head, processing everything that Bradley had just said as he poured his heart out to you. He’d never opened up like this to you before, but you could tell each and every word was genuine. As much as you hated him for leaving you, you couldn’t deny that you still loved him with all of your heart.

You missed him.

You missed waking up to him after the two of you had fallen asleep watching a movie together. You missed the way he yelled at the tv when watching baseball, how passionate he got over football games, how he’d pick the olives out of his nachos like a toddler and put them on your plate. You missed how he couldn’t eat apples unless they were baked in a pie, how he’d scarf down an entire red velvet cake if you didn’t gently stop him, then regret it hours later. You missed the way his big brown eyes would stare at you, a look of pure adoration on his face like a lovesick puppy whenever you spoke to someone else, as if he was hanging on every single word that fell from your lips.

You burst into tears, throwing your arms tightly around Bradley as you shook your head. “God, you’re an idiot, you know that?” you murmured, laughing softly as you hugged him.

“I know, I’m the biggest idiot. I still would marry you if you let me. I wanted to have kids with you, I want to be around for this one,” he nodded, gesturing his hands at your bump.

“Really?”

“Cross my heart,” Bradley said with an expression of complete seriousness on his face, “I wanna know everything about them. Everything. I wanna know what you’re having, what name you’ve picked out, what your cravings are, how you’ve been feeling, when they move, what does it feel like? I want to know how far along you are, and how they’re doing, if they have my nose or your nose, or if they’re gonna be tall like I am, I want to know what helps you sleep at night when you’re pregnant, and what their favourite song is. I want all of it, honey.”

“Ok, ok, slow down, breathe, Bradley,” you chuckled, shaking your head. “Take a walk with me?”

As you and Bradley walked around the pedestrian pathway on the golf course, smiling as you spoke fondly about the baby, answering all of Bradley’s questions.

“Well, baby’s a girl, I don’t have a name in mind for her yet, I’ve been craving oranges and Sprite, anything sweet and citrusy. I’ve been ok, better now the morning sickness finally dissipated. It feels like bubbles or something when she kicks, it’s like a fluttering, almost? I’m 28 weeks along, so I have about three months left. She looked like she has your nose on the ultrasound, there’s a 50/50 chance on her height, I sleep pretty much sitting upright because I get bad heartburn otherwise, and I play her music all the time. She likes Elvis and The Beach Boys, just like her dad.”

Bradley’s smile spread wide across his face, a small laugh of disbelief escaping his mouth as he nodded along with your words.

“That’s great. A girl? Really? You’re gonna have a daughter running around,” he said softly, almost as if he was daydreaming about what the little girl would look like.

“We are going to have a daughter.”

“You’re gonna let me be there? After everything?”

“Bradley, as much as I hated you for what you did and how you ended things - I never truly hated you. I loved you, more than anything. I still do.”

He held you tightly, burying his face into your hair as he kissed the top of your head, murmuring softly against your hair.

“God, I love you so much, honey. I promise, I’m never going to do something stupid like that again.”

“I know you won’t,” you laughed, shaking your head as he looked down at you, “I know you’d never leave Carly and I again.”

Bradley froze in place for a moment as he stared at you, his voice barely above a whisper as he spoke.

“What did you call her?”

“Carly. I thought, I don’t know, after you told me about your mom just now, I thought maybe you’d like to name the baby after her? Carole’s nice too, I just figured Carly gives her a name that’s her own too, they share the same root.”

“Carly,” he nodded slowly as he repeated it, “I love it.”

Bradley took your hand in his, his large fingers enveloping your hand as he held it tightly, as if he was terrified of letting go. He made that mistake once before, he wasn’t about to do it again.

721 notes · View notes

jillgirlfriends · 1 month ago

Text

Is my girl upset with me?

you are offended by them, and they are trying to make amends to you

pairing: billy loomis, jill roberts, charlie walker, ethan landry x fem!reader

warnin: offended!reader there may be something obscene, murder, some naughty

billy loomis

you are so tired of your fights with him. billy was a wonderful boyfriend, you loved him very much.. with all your heart, but you are very annoyed that lately he just leaves you in the middle of your date with him. this is already the fifth time in a week, you finally could not stand it, splashed out all your emotions on your boyfriend and you both quarreled, because of which you became even more offended at him and decided to ignore

If only you knew that your boyfriend is actually a murderer and leaves your dates because of the stupidity of his idiot partner. but billy won't be able to admit it to you.

when he is completely calm, he will follow you around all the time trying to get your attention.

billy will always pay attention to you and show you his rare tender side that only you know about. he wants to spend all his time with you, but he can't because of his.. affairs.

billy will pull you to himself, hugging your waist and saying tender and sincere compliments kissing your neck. and in the end, you will forgive him.. because you can't be offended by your beloved boyfriend for so long. especially being offended by such a hot guy is a crime

jill roberts

it's all that damn trevor's fault. he deliberately want broke you up with your girlfriend by telling you all sorts of nonsense right in front of jill. he said that she was a very possessive and toxic person and that you should break up with her. you were already very tired after school that day and you just didn't understand what was going on and... you believed that idiot and ran away without saying anything, unable to handle it all. your brain just didn't work because of all the fatigue. fucking trevor wanted to ruin jill's relationship with you in this way because jill broke up with him

jill was so furious, she just froze and glared at trevor with the darkest, most gloomy gaze, thinking about how she would finish him. her hands clenched into fists and her eyes seemed to turn black.

oh.. trevor doesn't realize how much danger he's in when he calls jill

first, jill will come to her senses and calm down properly and will think over her plan in her room, and walk back and forth like an embittered paranoid. now on her mind:

1 ruin trevor's life and kill him for good

2 get her lovely girlfriend back

jill single-handedly sent information about trevor throughout the school and even made everyone think that he was the real ghostface.

she invited trevor to her house when her mother was away, jill made trevor think that she wanted to get their relationship back.. but it was not so. she killed him, and then wounded herself on purpose so that everyone would think that he broke into her house and tried to kill her, but she was able to fight him off and as a result, jill achieved two main goals at once. killing trevor. check. becoming famous. check. she was that fake final girl.

you yourself immediately rushed to the hospital to your girlfriend, completely forgetting about the quarrel, and pounced on jill with strong hugs. you were so worried about her.

thus, jill was able to make peace with you and achieve her goals, because she doesn't trust anyone alone

charlie walker

kirby. that name alone makes you so mad. kirby started flirting with your boyfriend right in front of you, and charlie.. he was so slow and didn't know what to do, he didn't reject her at all. of course he didn't let her do physical things to him.. but, he responded to her compliments and then you just exploded. 4 years. 4 fucking years, she ignored him and when he started dating you, she immediately started paying attention to him? what the hell. you got so mad and then yelled at charlie, giving him a choice.

«me or kirby, the choice is yours» - the last thing you said to your boyfriend and walked past him, brushing against his shoulder. before that, charlie felt your anger..

charlie was confused and he was... honestly, even scared. he didn't want to lose you. that day when you poured out all your anger on him, he was in a strong panic and even cried at night, not knowing what to do.

the guy himself doesn't know why he let kirby flirt with him, maybe because he liked all this attention? or he still hasn't fallen out of love with her? no.. no, he has you.

as a result, charlie, out of despair and not knowing what to do... took a knife and put on that same robe and suit and went to the kirby house. he realized that you are more important to him and he loves only you.

the next day, the guy apologized to you. he was ready to kneel in front of you or even kiss your feet, just so that you would forgive him. you forgave him and apologized for your anger at him, and after that you both shared a tender kiss with each other

ethan landry

ethan honestly.. was such a slowpoke in the relationship, you understand that he is just shy and all that.. but, damn. when you want to hug him or kiss him, he always gets embarrassed and "pushes" you away, the most you always do.. is hold hands, yes, you understand that he needs time.. but, damn. it's been 3 months since your relationship! you just started to get irritated by all this, ethan was such a sissy that you just didn't want to see him or talk to him.

you ignored him and when ethan wanted to take your hand as always, you walked past him and didn't even look at him, completely ignoring him

ethan felt hurt that you ignored him, but... he couldn't find the courage to talk to you about it, so he followed you around like a kitten.

he tried for a long time to understand why you were offended by him, he asked his child for help and even asked him for advice, to which he received the answer: "I don't know, dude" and ethan was in despair and walked sadly around you for days

as a result, with the chad's help, ethan plucked up courage and apologized to you. you in turn, naturally forgave him because you missed him and it was painful for you to look at his sad face and without his asking pulled him to you for a kiss, to which he was surprised but timidly reciprocated the kiss

all the editing photos, if anything, I do myself and it takes a VERY long time, my gallery is overflowing with photos of characters from scream..

#scream #scream 4 #scream vi #billy loomis #billy loomis x reader #billy loomis smut #jill roberts #jill roberts x reader #jill roberts smut #charlie walker #charlie walker x reader #charlie walker smut #ethan landry #ethan landry x reader #ethan landry smut #ghostface #ghostface x reader #ghostface smut

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lovebugism · 2 years ago

Note

Play wrestling with bff Steve and getting giggly when he just straight up manhandles you 😭😭😭

✶ ┄ SORE LOSER !

summary: steve harrington doesn't like to let you win until he realizes how good it feels to lose. pairing: best friend!steve harrington / f!reader word count: 1.6k warnings: a lil bit suggestive towards the end, but nothing crazy a/n: i got super carried away with this lol i kinda just took this request and ran with it and well... here we are :) enjoy!

Steve never lets you win.

He thinks it’s letting you off too easy.

The boy’s competitive to a fault. He can’t stomach a loss, even if it’s in something as meaningless as a carnival game you only wanted to play for the giant dinosaur plushie that’s half the size of you.

He always ends up giving it to you when he inevitably wins, wearing a big smug smile on his pretty, pink lips. You take it from him with a pout. The childlike scowl is quelled only by the funnel cake he buys you after.

It doesn’t matter what it is — a game of monopoly, trivia questions on the ends of popsicle sticks, taking in the groceries — Steve finds a way to make all of it competitive. He wants to have the most fake money and little fake properties, he wants to shout the answer before anyone else can, he wants to carry more heavy plastic bags than everyone else. Just to say that he did it.

If you put this much effort into school, you’d be in college right now, Harrington, you’d tease.

Not my fault you’re a sore loser, he’d retort. I’ll let you win the next one, sunshine. Promise.

He never does.

You and Steve play-wrestle like a couple of kids. It usually comes out of nowhere. You’ll make fun of him, he’ll shove at you, and you’ll shove back harder. Then it just turns into a game of who’s stronger than who — and it’s always him. Obviously.

You try your hardest to prove your strength, pushing at him with nimble fists and wriggling something fierce in his hold, but you come out red-faced with a participation ribbon laced within his taunts. And even though he’s got several inches on you and quite a bit more muscle, he never lets you win. Ever.

He manhandles you, perhaps a little too rough at times, but it wasn’t like he had to be kind to you. You weren’t dating or anything, you were best friends — this is what a couple of pals do, right?

They play fight on the carpet of the other’s movie room after being told their closest confidant would murder them in a game of fuck, marry, kill between Anthony Michael Hall and Robert Downey Jr. with zero hesitation.

Friends totally force the other onto the ground by grabbing at the bottoms of their thighs before kneeling over them, wrenching their wrists in their grip and pressing their hands to the ground on either their head.

It’s the definition of being best buds. Truly.

For the first time, you manage to get the better of him. You’re pressed beneath his weight, breathing heavy and rapidly tiring, and you wave the white flag of surrender.

Just when Steve's letting you up and swiping a hand through his mussed hair, you force him onto his back and straddle his waist — like he always did to you — and giggle with mirth at the idea of finally beating him.

He doesn’t find a similar enthusiasm in it, though. His tune changes almost immediately.

You beam down at him, the words of a taunt on the tip of your tongue, and you notice how his cheeks flare pink. His honey-colored eyes widen and his mouth falls softly agape. He glows red in embarrassment and you think he’s just upset that he lost, but he sounds like he’s panicking. The words rush out of his mouth — “Alright, shit, fine— you win, sunshine. Get off, alright? Off, off, off.”

His hand swats at the side of your knee to hurry you off him.

“Alright, jeez!” you concede with the roll of your eyes, halfway annoyed that he just can’t let you win anything. “You don’t have to be such a sore loser about it, Harrington—”

You understand his haste in that moment, when you feel him brush your inner thigh. Like, all of him — as in, the boner trapped in the sweatpants he’s wearing, all rock hard and raging in its cotton confines.

Suddenly, you’re just as bashful and panicked as he is.

Your eyes lock at the rock hard realization but neither of you can think of anything to say.

Do you apologize? Do you act like you didn’t feel anything? Do you trust your voice to make a stupid joke so you can move on and forget any of this ever happened? You’re not quite sure.

And in the five-second silence, Steve just wants to die. Internally, he’s praying for a strike of lightning to take him out on the spot because he’s never been more embarrassed in his life.

He’s certain that he’s grossed you out, or worse, made you irreversibly uncomfortable.

In the mess of thoughts running through his head, he tries to rush out some apology that might soothe the awkward air. Your laughter does all the work for him before he can.

It bubbles like sunshine from your mouth, filling the silence and allowing Steve to breathe again. He finds himself chuckling under his breath with you, though he’s still red-faced about it.

“Yeah, yeah, yeah. Keep laughing, sunshine,” he chides with the roll of his eyes, though a smile hints at the edges of his mouth. He rises on his elbows to look at you. “What was I supposed to do? Your tits were in my face and your ass was on my dick— sorry for being human!”

“Sorry, alright? I’m sorry,” you manage through hearty giggles. You settle finally at his side and look over at him, still grinning. “Want me to leave so you can… take care of it or whatever?”

He knows you’re joking but he shakes his head anyway. “Nah, it’ll go away. Let’s just… finish this stupid movie.”

“Stupid movie? You picked it!”

“Yeah, so I could see Kelly Lebrock in a bikini!” he argues back, more thankful for the familiar bickering than he ever thought he’d be. “But you made me miss it!”

“It’s not my fault you can’t keep your hands to yourself.”

“Watch it, sunshine,” he grumbles, half-heatedly. “Don’t start something you can’t finish.”

“I think you’re the one who needs to worry about finishing, Harrington,” you joke and giggle when he shoves you.

You would’ve helped him, if he wanted you to. You know it’s uncomfortable and that it’s partially your fault. You also know that all of those are just excuses to cover up the fact that you’ve always wondered what his cock looks like.

He’d need only ask you, but you know that he won’t.

Even if he did like you in that way, it’d just make things all complicated. And that was totally the opposite of the effortless relationship you’ve developed with him. The kind of effortless where he can be rock hard next to you, and you’ve both decided to just move on from it.

Steve, meanwhile, spends the rest of the movie not watching a single damn minute of it. He’s too busy trying to calm himself down like a teenage boy and figuring out he can get you on top of him again without being too obvious about the whole thing.

He decides he might just start swallowing his pride and let you win sometimes.

#published by bug #steve harrington x reader #stranger things x reader #stranger things imagine #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington smut #st drabbles #stevie drabble

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slut4thebroken · 2 months ago

Text

tit for tat

── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

Pairing | Robert Fischer x dom!reader

Summary | Robert gets all bratty when you won’t deepthroat him, so you decide to show him how hard it actually is.

Warnings | Smut, strap-ons lol, blow jobs, deep throating, gagging, he’s a bit of a brat, praise, and a dash of dacryphilia hehe, he’s so fucking pathetic 😩🫶

Words | 1.1 k

Notes | god I want to ruin him so fucking bad

Ao3 link | <3

Masterlist

Kinktober | day 5: strap-ons

He whined loudly and tugged on your hair, forcing you down further on his cock. When the tip hit the back of your mouth and you gagged, you pulled back.

“Stop it. I won’t tell you again.” You warned, making him pout. You took him in your mouth again and he mewled as his back arched off the bed. While you mostly paid attention to the tip, you’d occasionally bob up and down. Every single time you went down, he whined and his grip on your hair tightened. For a while, he obeyed and didn’t try to do anything else, but when he pushed you down on his cock until you gagged again, you finally snapped and pulled off.

“No..” He whined, jerking your head back down.

“Do I need to tie you up?”

“Why can’t you just go all the way down?” He whimpered pathetically. “It feels so good.” Something about the way he said that— the way he made it seem like deepthroating an entire cock over and over again was such a casual thing to do— really irked you.

“Because, Robert,” he whined when you didn’t use a pet name, “it’s hard and I’m not in the mood for it right now.”

“Hard?” He scoffed, only getting brattier. “You do this all the time, how can it still be hard?” You stared at him, already coming up with a plan in your head, and you could see his expression slowly start to falter once he realized. “I’m sorry, okay? I didn’t think deepthroating was an Olympic level skill.” He huffed sarcastically, originally trying to backtrack to avoid being punished, but unable to resist giving you another bratty retort.

This would’ve been when you punished him— maybe ruined his orgasm or spanked his cock until he came… but you had a far better idea.

When you suddenly got up, he whined brattishly. “Where are you going?” He pouted, watching you walk to the closet where all of the sex toys were stored. You ignored him and grabbed the strap, as well as a dildo that was just a little bit smaller than Robert’s cock. “I thought we weren’t gonna do that today.” He didn’t necessarily sound upset, just a little caught off guard that oral was suddenly turning into pegging. Still ignoring him, you walked back over and put everything on, then grabbed his hair and dragged him off the bed, making him cry out. Once he was kneeling at your feet, you kept a firm grip on his hair and pulled his head closer so he was right in front of the strap.

“Suck.” You said plainly. His brows scrunched together and he looked between you and the dildo.

“But I wanna come.” He frowned.

Tightening your grip on his hair, you lowered your voice into something more menacing, “Suck or you’ll be wearing the cage for a week.” His frown deepened and you could tell he wanted to protest, but he just huffed and shuffled closer to you. He grabbed the base of the dildo and reluctantly wrapped his lips around the tip, starting to suck slowly.

When you saw his free hand reach down to start touching his own cock, you jerked his head back by his hair, making him hiss in pain. “Hands behind your back.” You ordered, and he huffed again, all but rolling his eyes. He put his hands behind his back and started bobbing up and down slowly, not even reaching halfway.

“Take it all the way down.” You said sternly.

He pulled back and looked up at you with a pout. “Can’t...” He whined pathetically, no doubt trying to guilt trip you into changing your mind.

“What’s your color?”

“…Green.” He muttered.

“Then fucking learn.” Your voice was significantly more harsh than just a second ago and you started guiding him back on the dildo before he could protest. He went down and tried to go back up, but you kept him in place, slowly pushing him down even more. When he gagged, you finally let him pull off to catch his breath. “C’mon,” you demanded, jerking his head impatiently, “go all the way down, it feels so good.” You said dryly and he immediately frowned when you mocked his previous words.

“I said I’m sorry.”

“I don’t care. Suck.”

You forced him back down and adjusted your grip to have both hands holding his head instead. He gagged again and tried to pull off, but you kept pushing him down, trying to breach his throat barrier. When he coughed and sputtered, instinctively bringing his hands up to push at your thighs, you let him have another break. A string of saliva connected his lips to the dildo and you could already see the tears in his eyes.

“I don’t know why you’re struggling so much. It’s not like deepthroating is an Olympic level skill.” You sneered, pulling him back down on the dildo again. You were determined to actually get it all the way in, so you continued pulling him down. “This would be a lot easier if I could actually feel where it was in your mouth…” You muttered to yourself, then addressed him directly, “Relax your throat, angel.”

He gagged and sputtered, tears streaming down his cheeks and saliva rolling down his chin and the toy. Just when you were about to give him another break, the dildo popped past his throat barrier and the gentle force you were using made him go all the way down, his face hitting your pelvis.

“Oh good boy.” You moaned, bending over a little and wrapping your arms around his head, holding him firmly in place as he struggled. “Hold it, baby. Just a little longer.” He let out a strangled sound that was muffled by the dildo and squeezed your thighs, digging his nails into them. After another moment, you finally let him pull away and he coughed almost violently, taking in ragged breaths.

“That was so good, angel.” You said softly, using one hand to pet his hair, trying to soothe him. “Can you tell me your color?” The way he kept coughing and breathing heavily made you start to worry that you went too far.

He finally calmed down and cleared his throat to speak, looking up at you with teary eyes, his lashes even prettier all wet. “Green… ‘m sorry.” You cooed and brought your hand down to cup his cheek, tilting his head up to face you.

“I know. I think a little more of this will make us even, hm?” It definitely would not make up for all the times you’ve deepthroated him since you started dating, but it wasn’t really about that. When he nodded, your lips curled up into a small smile and you brushed your thumb over his bottom lip that was still lightly coated in his spit. “Good boy.”

#robert fischer smut #robert fischer x reader #robert fischer #inception #kinktober #kinktober 2024 #cillian murphy

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livwritesstuff · 1 month ago

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The arrival of fall means the arrival of soccer season for the Harrington family. Soccer, as Eddie has learned, is kind of a gateway drug to the world of sports, the first sport their naive, impressionable youths are indoctrinated with, and all three of Eddie and Steve’s daughters are playing soccer in their town’s youth league this fall, even five-year-old Hazel now (she hates it; it’s probably also the very last time she’ll play too), so Eddie usually spends at least half of his Saturday at a local field watching his daughters’ games.

Steve usually volunteers to coach their daughters’ teams, except there’s another soccer-related first this year – Steve decided to take a step back from coaching Moe’s team like he’d been doing since Moe was in kindergarten, which means that he's actually on the sidelines with Eddie.

At one point during one of Moe’s games, things gets held up for a few minutes while one of the team moms argues with the coach. It seems to be about Moe, given the look of indignation on Moe’s face.

“Did you see what happened?” Eddie asks like he tends to whenever anything happens in Moe's games because they move pretty damn fast and he doesn't have an eye for this stuff like Steve does.

Steve shakes his head, “It’s Moe. Anything could have happened.”

It’s a fair point, honestly, and the coach shuts the whole thing down pretty quick and the game continues. Steve and his ear for drama didn't, obviously, and pretty much the second Moe’s game is over, Steve asks her, “So what was Mrs. Roberts all upset about?”

“I dunno,” Moe shrugs as she hefts her enormous soccer bag higher on her shoulders, “Apparently I said the C-word and she wanted the coach to take me off the field.”

Eddie feels himself freeze, feels Steve do the same beside him because, sure, their kids curse up a goddamn storm (no idea where they got that from) but everyone has their limits and Eddie’s pretty sure that he and Steve have never used that word – certainly not around their daughters, but not really ever (Nancy doesn't like it and they're all a little afraid of her still).

“I didn’t even know the C-word was a bad word,” Moe finishes.

“Okay,” Steve says slowly, something in his tone suggesting he’d rather be asking their daughter anything else, “Well, what…word did you say?

Moe shrugs, “I just said crap.”

Steve visibly relaxes beside Eddie as he does the same. Even still, Eddie can’t help but feel kind of perplexed even by that because, frankly, both Steve and Eddie usually bypass the sanitized expletives and head straight for the bigguns. It’s kind of crazy she didn’t go all in with the F-bomb whenever she got wronged on the field.

“Since when was crap a bad word?” Moe continues.

“It’s not,” Steve waves her off, “But…yeah, don’t use that one around Mrs. Roberts ‘cause she’s weird about that kind of thing.”

“Well, you already said I can’t say shit, so what can I say?”

“Well, you’re ten, so you can say nothing and survive the game totally fine.”

“That’s censorship at its finest, Papa,” Moe rolls her eyes.

“Darling, please don’t cite Dad at me.”

#they were nervous there for a sec #mostly bc nancy would be mad at them #tho to be fair if the girls did learn *that* c-word....it'd probably be from robin sooooo #liv's steddie dads verse #steddie #steddie dads #steve harrington #eddie munson

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tkwrites · 5 months ago

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Understanding (or the one in which Jack Hughes is forced to get over himself) - Quinn Hughes x ofc

Author: Tory / @tkwrites

Relationship: Quinn Hughes x Sarah Roberts (ofc)

Summary: Still upset about finding out about Sarah from Brady, Jack has some hesitations when he and Luke come to town for the Finals. Can he get over himself enough to see what Quinn and Sarah have is real?

Warnings: Angst, sibling fighting, light body shaming

Word Count: 5,600

Comments: I’ve been working on this fic for almost three months and tossing around ideas for it since December. On Thursday, something clicked into place, and the story just fell together. I really like the way it turned out, and I hope you like it too!

If you enjoyed this, please let me know by commenting, reblogging, or sending in an ask. Your encouragement and comments truly inspire me to keep writing.

I love Quinn and Sarah, and I’m constantly blown away that so many of you love them, too.

Understanding (or the one in which Jack Hughes is forced to get over himself)

A Quinn & Sarah Snapshot

Sarah was sitting in the living room, trying not to freak out. Their night before had been one to remember, and her hips were still sore and achy from it in the most satisfying way.

But even remembering Quinn giving her so many orgasms she lost count — murmuring how proud he was of her with each and every one of them — couldn’t take away from the fact that his brothers were about to arrive.

Sarah and her siblings were close, but Quinn and his brothers were closer. They were all in the same phase of life - all playing professional hockey, all unmarried, and all figuring things out. Even Luke, who she knew, had been dating his girlfriend Kylee for two and a half years wasn’t in a place to get married, especially not while Kylee was still in school.

It was so different from her own siblings, who were both in the young family stage of life while she was still figuring out no-longer-single life and dating-a-professional-athlete life.

She loved her siblings, but they had less in common than they used to.

It felt like a huge test to be accepted by his family — his best friends. She wasn’t totally sure what she’d do if they didn’t like her.

When she’d brought that up to Quinn after they’d finally collapsed into bed, he had pulled her close, kissed her forehead, and assured her, “they’re going to love you. I love you, so they’re going to love you.”

She hadn’t pointed out how flawed his logic was.

Quinn appeared at her side, holding a shot of rum, “here, I think you might need this.”

“I thought you said I don’t have anything to be worried about!”

“I don’t think you do.”

Her eyebrows shot up, “but you think I should take a shot?”

He gulped nervously, “Jack can just be kind of a lot. I’m not sure he’s totally over the whole, I didn’t tell him first thing.”

Her eyes went wide, and while Quinn had the best of intentions, he realized what a stupid move this was. Instead of calming her down, he was making her more anxious. He tried to backtrack, “you don’t have to. It was a stupid idea,” he said before starting back to the bar — intent on dumping the alcohol down the drain.

“No, come back.”

He turned, and she reached for the small glass, “it will take the edge off.”

Taking a deep breath, she tossed the liquor into her mouth. As soon as she’d swallowed, she pulled a face, “ugh, I hate shots. Remind me to never do that again.”

Laughing, he lifted the glass out of her hands and leaned down to kiss her. They stayed that way for a while, each of them remembering slices of the night before.

His phone trilled. He would have picked them all up from the airport, but Jack had insisted on renting a car for them to use while they were here, so there was no need.

The dinner they’d ordered was on it’s way, and everything was going to be fine.

Having finished her finals the day before, Sarah had spent most of the day relaxing and sleeping in Quinn’s bed. He’d left for practice, then crawled back in bed with her when he got home, happy to fall asleep again, holding her close.

As a result, he looked refreshed and clear headed.

“You ready?” he asked when the elevator dinged.

She nodded, standing and wrapping her arms around his torso.

She was wearing the same jeans she’d worn when she met the team and a cream colored top, partially unbuttoned, so he could see just a hint of her cleavage.

“It’s going to be fine,” he assured.

The very fact that he kept saying it made Sarah wonder if he was trying to convince himself into believing it.

She should have worn the green dress. When she’d been packing to stay at Quinn’s overnight, she’d convinced herself the boyfriend jeans were lucky enough now, and she didn’t need to pull out the big guns. Plus, she didn’t want Quinn to think she only had one outfit she wore when she was nervous. Now, that didn’t seem like it mattered much, and she wished she had the comforting assurance of it with her.

When Quinn opened the door and his brothers came tumbling into the apartment, Sarah immediately understood what her own brother had missed out on by only having two sisters.

They were so distinctly…male. There was a lot of congratulatory hair mussing and punching going on in celebration of Quinn making the finals.

Ellen was dutifully waiting for them to be done so she could hug her eldest.

To Sarah’s surprise, Jim was the first one to greet her, offering a hug she gladly accepted.

When they broke apart, Quinn moved to introduce everyone, “Sarah,” he said, and everyone’s eyes snapped to him, “these are my brothers Jack and Luke. Guys, this is Sarah.”

Luke gave her a shy smile and offered her a hand to shake. Jack didn’t move other than to give her a curt nod.

“It’s nice to finally meet you,” she said, pulling a smile onto her face she hoped masked her disappointment at his clipped response.

Ellen rolled her eyes and crossed the room to give her a hug.

The front desk buzzed up to let them know their food was delivered, and Sarah offered to go collect it just to get away from the tense meeting.

When they sat down to eat, Sarah was able to engage Luke in conversation, and they started talking about his girlfriend Kylee, who would be coming out once she had finished her finals. Once the ice was broken, Luke was easy to talk to, and they swapped stories about work and growing up.

More than once in their conversation, Sarah caught Ellen shooting disappointed looks at her middle son, who couldn’t seem to stop staring at her, but didn’t say a word.

The conversation lulled, and Jack spoke for the first time, “so, Sarah, what are you going to do when you’re done with school?” His tone was almost accusatory, like he expected her to say she would be moving to Dubai and leaving Quinn behind.

“I’m not really sure yet. I like working at the aquarium, so I wouldn’t mind staying there. But if I could get a job in conservation, that would be ideal. I feel more passionate about it.”

“What would you do in conservation?” he asked. It sounded a little like they were rehearsed questions on Jacks part, as if he were trying to appease someone by making conversation but didn’t actually care much about the subject.

“Well, there’s a lot that crosses over in terms of what can be done in the wild to make our oceans more habitable to everything that lives in them. And if we need to do any rescue and rehab, I can help care for most of those animals.”

“So you’re like a vet?”

“No, I can’t administer any medical treatment, but I can assist. I thought about going into veterinary medicine, but it would have meant seven more years of school, and there’s a lot of aspects of being a vet that terrify me.”

“Like what?” he asked with an arched eyebrow, as if her admitting she had weaknesses was completely unexpected.

Sarah flicked a glance at Quinn, who was looking at his brother with narrowed eyes, as if trying to figure out what he was getting at.

“Well, I’m not great with blood, for one. Plus, the smell of hospitals tends to give me panic attacks.”

Somehow, this admission made Jack relax. She was human, after all. When they met June, she was all smiles and rainbows and didn’t admit to having faults of any kind. Quinn talked about how genuine Sarah was, but Jack wanted to see it for himself.

Quinns eyes darted to her, and she gave him a small smile.

“What is it about hospitals?” Jim asked.

She took a deep breath and reached for Quinn’s hand under the table. Their fingers entwined, and he gave her a reassuring squeeze.

“My mom died of cancer, so she spent a good portion of the last six months of her life in a hospital, and every time I came home, I would have to see her there. The smell always transports me straight back.”

Quinn didn’t hesitate to put his arm around her, and she leaned into his shoulder, blinking a few times.

Jack looked between them and felt something twist in his gut. This was so much more serious than he wanted to believe. He’d seen the signs from Quinn — the dreamy look he often got when he talked about her, and how it seemed like they were together all the time, or the way he talked about the future, like he couldn’t envision one without her in it.

The two sides of his mind warred. On one hand, he was glad Quinn found her, but on the other, he was still pissed he was the last one to know. He and Quinn were supposed to be best friends as well as brothers. He’d never keep something like that from Quinn, and it hurt every time he remembered Brady asking, “so what do you think of Sarah?”

Then, there was the whole issue of Sarah herself. Not that she was bad looking. She was pretty. But June was gorgeous, and Jack couldn’t help but think that Sarah was a bit of a step down.

The meal ended on less tense terms than it started on, and Quinn took Sarah home.

“Was it okay?” he asked.

She knotted her fingers together in her lap, “I don’t know. Was it? You know Jack better than I do.”

One of his hands dragged over his face before he reached for hers.

Gratefully, she took it, glad for the reassurance of his touch.

He felt off kilter. The end was such a stark contrast to the beginning that he had a hard time reconciling that morning as part of the same day.

“Can you come up for a minute?” she asked when he pulled in front of her building.

He glanced over with raised eyebrows only to find nervousness clearly written on her face. “Yeah, of course,” he said and flipped around to find a spot to park.

They got up to her apartment, which she knew would be empty - Eunice had gone home to stay with her parents for a week, and Jane was working. As soon as the door shut behind them, she wrapped her arms around his waist, resting her head on his shoulder.

“What’s up?” Quinn asked, his hands heavy and comforting on the small of her back.

“I just —” Sarah could feel the tears she’d pushed off for the drive home forcing their way up to the surface.

She sniffed, and Quinn pulled back, “what’s wrong?”

Sarah wiped her cheeks. “What if —” She didn’t want to say it out loud, but she needed to. Talking about it would make it better. She knew that, but it was still scary as hell to voice the anxiety that was eating away at her peace of mind. Not only was the summer going to fucking suck, “I think Jack hates me.”

Something behind his sternum fractured, “Jack doesn’t hate you.”

Looking up to meet his eyes, she asked, “really? Because it doesn’t seem like he likes me very much.”

“I think he just needs time to adjust to the situation. He’s still mad at me that I didn’t tell them first.”

“I don’t understand that either. My sister was the second person I told.” Technically, she’d been the 4th with her roommates, but no need to split hairs. Rachel was the second person she’d told on purpose.

He pulled a calming breath into his chest. “I think Brady mentioned June to you?” She nodded, and he continued, “June was…” how did he even find the right words? “We dated for a long time. Way longer than we should have. We weren’t good together. I mean, you know all that weird shit she had about sex, and she would break up with me every few months, then come back after a few days, begging to get back together.”

“That sounds exhausting.”

“It wasn’t great,” he admitted ruefully. “Anyway, my family never really came out and said they didn’t like her. They only said it after I called it off for good. I remember Jack told me, ‘Thank god, I never liked that bitch.’”

Sarah wrinkled her nose, and Quinn laughed, “yeah. Brady was the only one who told it to me straight from the beginning. He was pretty frank with me; his family doesn’t really beat around the bush about anything. He encouraged me to break it off for good. Anyway, when we met,” he gestured between them, “I was kind of hesitant to tell anyone. Not because I thought you were like June. You’re not. In any way. But I didn’t… I didn’t really trust my own judgment, you know?”

She didn’t, but she nodded anyway. That was something they could unpack later.

“I wanted Brady to meet you first since he and Emma had been so honest.”

This, she knew from conversations with Ellen and Brady himself, but it was nice to hear it from Quinn.

“Before I had a chance to tell him, Brady asked Jack what he thought of you while they were playing in Ottawa, and he called me, pretty pissed. I think he’s still caught on that.”

Pursing her lips, she wasn’t totally sure what the protocol for this was. “Is there anything I can do to fix it? I don’t want —” she broke off, feeling she couldn’t say it. She didn’t want Jack to come between them. She didn’t want to have to forge a new relationship when Quinn’s brother and best friend didn’t like her, and she didn’t want to put Quinn in a position where he would have to choose.

That fracturing feeling was back.

“That’s not going to happen,” Quinn said, picking up on what he thought the subtext of the conversation was as he ran his hands up and down her arms. “I think he just needs time. Jack doesn’t really hate anyone. It’s not in his nature.”

“Was he like this with Kylee?”

“No, but Luke and Kylee were friends in high school and college, so we knew her before they started dating.”

She thunked her forehead onto his shoulder and took a deep breath.

One of his hands ran over her hair, “I’m sorry. I know this put you in a really weird position.”

She felt his words in his chest at the same time she heard them and swallowed the feeling whole.

“I just don’t want to lose you,” she said, nuzzling into his shirt

“You’re not going to lose me,” he said. Definitive. Simple. Straight to the point.

She knew she sounded whiney, but she needed to say it, “but what happens if he never likes me? I don’t want you to feel like you have to choose.”

“Jack’ll come around. He’s never been able to hold grudges for very long.”

Looking up at him, then, hope filled her face, and he kissed her, hoping it reassured her. He was sure Jack would come around as soon as he could get his head out of his ass.

“I’m sorry, but I need to get back,” he said as gently as he could. Not only was there a game tomorrow, he knew his brothers would want to talk.

Swallowing down the loneliness of being in the apartment by herself for the night, she nodded. “I’ll see you tomorrow?”

‘Tomorrow,” he repeated before pressing a kiss to her forehead. “I love you.”

“I love you too. One more?”

He couldn't resist.

One turned into six or seven, and he pulled away feeling light. “Jack’ll come around,” he assured again before kissing her once more and turning to go.

“I mean, she’s pretty and all,” Jack was saying as they stood in the living room. Their parents had gone to bed, so it was best to have this conversation on the floor below. “But don’t you think she’s a little big?”

Luke stared at Jack while Quinn glared at him. “What?”

“Don’t get me wrong, she has a pretty face, but her thighs are kind of huge.”

Luke spoke before Quinn could follow through with punching his brother in the face. “Is this because you actually think that, or because you’re mad Quinn didn’t trust you enough to tell you first?”

“Trust us,” Jack corrected through a jaw clenched so tight, it answered Lukes question for him.

“Fine. Whatever,” Luke said. He’d come to terms with it. He had been too scared to tell Quinn what he thought of June. After thinking it over, it did make sense for him to go to the only person in his life who made their concerns clear and keep Sarah from everyone else. They got attached to June, or at least to the idea of her. Luke had never really liked her. But he liked the idea of Quinn having a girlfriend. Of him having someone here in Van while the rest of them were all out east.

Now that he had met Sarah in person, not just talked on the phone with her - which Jack had made feel more like a job interview than a welcoming, get to know you chat - he understood just how bad of a match June had been for Quinn.

Gone were the tense morning phone calls after a blowout fight. Gone were the sick-in-love nights where Quinn was hanging up early before really talking to either of them so he could spend time with June while the getting was good. Gone were the confused, “I don’t know what she wants from me,” talks that happened way too often for Luke's liking.

Not only was Sarah more stable, Luke felt like Quinn was more stable with her.

“I’m saying it because it’s true,” Jack said, clinging to his pride. “You’re an athlete, Q. Do you really think she can keep up with the lifestyle?”

“It’s not like she needs to go to the gym with me every day,” Quinn shot back.

“The girls you’ve dated before have been…”

“Listen, Jack. Yes, Sarah might be a little bigger than the girls I’ve dated before, but she’s more than all of them.”

“I’ll say she’s more,” Jack snided.

Luke stepped in, “don’t be such a dick.”

“It’s true.”

“She’s better,” Quinn corrected, and his voice went hard. “She’s better than any of those girls. More driven and more supportive and more understanding and loving than anyone I’ve ever dated.”

That stopped Jack in his tracks. He opened his mouth, then closed it again, unsure of what to say.

This. This was the thing he was most scared of.

Somewhere in the back of his mind, Jack knew Quinn or Luke would eventually get married, and their unit would be changed forever. They wouldn’t be The Hughes Boys anymore. Not like they had been. They would be different. Sarah was coming in and stealing his brother from him.

“And just for the record,” Quinn said, getting in Jack’s face with a fierceness Luke rarely saw directed at either of them when talking about something so serious, “I don’t think Sarah’s fat, and I don’t think you do either. You never called Madeline fat, and she’s bigger than Sarah.”

Madeline was a plus-size model Jack had quietly dated and broken up with the year before.

Luke wondered, not for the first time, how much of their breakup was caused by Jack’s need to be perceived a certain way. Madeline was stunningly beautiful, but there were comments swirling all the time about how much bigger she was than him, and how could he possibly want to date someone so large, despite the fact that she was incredibly successful and was one of the most gorgeous women he’d ever seen. Not to mention that she kept to a diet that would put all of them to shame.

Caught, Jack snapped his mouth shut and glared.

“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you, okay?” Quinn practically begged. “I should have, and I didn’t, but that doesn’t mean you need to take it out on her.”

Luke was struck at how much his oldest brother was trying to protect his girlfriend. Jack could say what he wanted about him, but when it came to Sarah, he was trying to put blame back where it belonged.

Quinn sunk into the club chair closest to him, raking his hands into his hair.

“Can you just TRY to get to know her?” he asked. “I think you’ll really like her if you get to know her.”

Jack huffed a breath through his nose and nodded once. Once again, he was struck with a sudden sense of vertigo, like everything around him was shifting and changing, pulled just off kilter.

He wasn’t blind, as much as he wanted to be. He knew Quinn, and the very fact he was directing the blame back on himself again and again told Jack all he needed to know about how he felt about Sarah. Even though he didn’t know her very well and resented the swift way she’d blown into Quinns life, Jack could see she would be around for a long time.

A few days later, as they sat around the table to eat breakfast, Ellen met Quinn's eyes, a warm smile lighting her face. “She's good. I really like her.”

Quinn knew his mom liked Sarah from when she first met his parents several weeks before.

Still, hearing her say this after seeing her interact with the rest of the family meant more. Some of the lingering anxiety he felt blew away. Jack still didn't love her, but he was softening up. Quinn wasn't sure anyone would ever live up to Jack's ideal standard. Luke loved everyone and liked to talk to her about the ocean. Plus, it seemed like she’d get along great with Kylee.

His dad nodded in agreement, “don't fuck it up.”

That spoke louder to Quinn than anything else he could have said. “I don't plan to.”

“Make sure you don't. She's good for you. Good for the family, too.”

“Too good for him,” Luke added quietly.

“That goes without saying. Most women will be for all of you.”

Jack scoffed.

“Is she coming to Hawaii?” his mom asked.

“What?” Jack exclaimed. “She can't come to Hawaii! That's our trip.”

Ellen looked at her middle son patiently, waiting for his instinctive reaction to calm down so he could think clearly.

“I asked her,” Quinn said, “but -”

Jack broke in, his hot head getting the best of him,“you talked about this without me?”

“Relax Jack,” Luke said.

“But she told me no,” Quinn finished.

“She told you no? She told me all sorts of things we should do from when she lived there. I was really hoping she could show us around,” Ellen admitted.

“I know,” Quinn said. “She said she didn't want to tread on family time.”

“She's going to be a part of this family, isn't she?” Ellen asked.

Jack glared at her, “mom, it hasn't even been six months.”

“Five months can tell you a lot, Jack. Can't you see how much your brother loves her? And how much she loves him?”

Jack had to admit she was right. Quinn was more settled - no, that wasn't it. He had always been settled. He was more…at ease. A better, less worried version of himself. It was like Sarah had come in and soothed all this anxiety and all these fears that had been bubbling beneath Quinn’s skin. Only when they were gone did Jack notice.

And Sarah was…sweet. She was considerate and kind and tried her best to engage him in conversation.

“Sar told me she would only come if everyone said it was okay, especially you, Jack.”

Jack looked at his brother, totally taken aback. Something in him shifted. “Really?”

Quinn nodded. “She doesn't want to tread on our time. She knows we don't get much time together anyway.”

Jack had been feeling like she'd just come barging into their family, taking his brother away from him. He'd heard Quinn talk about her, but seeing it in real life - seeing how much time they spent together, how they had their own little language, and always seemed to be touching each other - he wasn't ready to lose his brother like that.

But this shifted things a bit. It was one thing to visit the lake house or even tag along to a big family vacation, but the trip to Hawaii was more than that. It was going to be just them. Even Kylee wasn't coming. He was pretty sure it was because she had a family reunion of her own she couldn't skip out on, but the sentiment still counted.

“I'll think about it,” Jack agreed begrudgingly.

The morning after the Canucks were eliminated, Sarah wandered down to the kitchen wearing one of Quinn’s Michigan shirts and a pair of his boxers, still slightly twisted slightly from sleep.

“Oh,” she greeted hesitantly upon seeing him at the bar, “morning, Jack.”

Watching her and Quinn interact last night had cracked something in him. Not only that Sarah was here to stay, but it awoke a kind of longing to have someone totally accept him.

It was made even worse when he wandered up to the gaming room, figuring he could at least watch some TV if he couldn’t get any sleep, and heard noise from Quinn’s bedroom that let him know they were going at it. He didn’t ever want to think about his brother having sex, but the fact that Quinn had so many different levels of comfort available - all seemingly tailored to meet his exact needs - after a hard day woke a deep longing for that kind of intimacy in Jack. He hadn’t allowed himself to want it, at least since he and Madeline broke up.

He gave up on the gaming room and slept on the uncomfortable living room sofa. Now his shoulder was sore, and his hips hurt, and he hadn’t gotten nearly enough sleep.

“Morning,” he mumbled, hating that she felt like she needed to tip toe around him. He knew it was his own fault, but now he was in so deep that he wasn’t sure how to get out of it. The conversation about Hawaii, realizing she was thinking about their family as well as her relationship with Quinn along with what happened the night before, had him feeling ready to make peace with her. Except that would just be him admitting he was wrong, which seemed so much easier than it felt.

She put a pod in the coffee maker, more at home in Quinns house than he was. That was a new feeling. Jack had searched for the coffee pods that morning, and when he couldn’t find one, settled for milk. Now, he wondered why Quinn kept them in the drawer beneath the coffee maker when it would have made more sense to keep them in the cupboard above.

“How did you sleep?” she asked, leaning her butt on the counter while the machine gurgled.

He shrugged, “Luke snored all night.”

Wrinkling her nose, she said, “I’m sorry.”

“We haven’t had to share a room when he’s not exhausted from hockey in a long time.”

She nodded, pulling creamer out of the fridge.

He watched her walk back to her mug, noting the way her thighs trembled with each step. He loved that about Madeline. The softness of her. She was stunning, but not hard. Before he’d met her, he didn’t know those things could coexist.

“How did you sleep?”

“Good,” she said, “Quinn was so exhausted, I don’t think he turned over once.”

“Isn’t he the worst?” Jack said with a loud, laughing groan. “Flailing all over the bed.”

Sarah snorted when he nearly fell backward off the stool in his demonstration of flailing limbs. “Has he always done that?”

“Since we were kids. He must be a nightmare to share a bed with.”

“Thankfully, I don’t think I’ve experienced any flailing. He must be a little less writhe-y now, but if we’re not cuddling, he does usually toss and turn all night.”

“Good,” he said, and then immediately felt stupid. What was she supposed to say to that now?

“Where are your parents?” she asked instead, bringing the mug to her lips to blow on the hot liquid.

“They went to get breakfast or something,” he said with a vague gesture over his shoulder. “They invited me, but I went back to sleep.”

“Have you eaten? I was about to cook some eggs.”

“Is Quinn up?” he asked.

“He was still conked out when I got up. I figured I’d let him sleep. No use in waking him when he’s finally getting some solid rest.”

There it was again - that pinch of jealousy. She knew him in ways Jack didn’t, like her knowledge that cuddling kept Quinn still at night, and she obviously liked to care for him.

It’s not like he didn’t want her in his brothers life. She obviously made Quinn happy, and all Jack really wanted was for him to be happy.

It was a weird, night and day difference between Quinn now and Quinn at the beginning of the season. When they’d left Michigan in September, it wasn’t like Quinn had been depressed - he’d been excited to get back to hockey - but he’d spent so much of the off season wondering if he and June were actually a good match that when he left, it felt like he was leaving without having anything truly resolved. When they’d finally broken up in November, a huge sigh of relief had swept through Quinn’s whole life.

Looking back now, Jack should have known something was up when Quinn started calling them, relaxed and cheerful, quick with a smile and a joke in a way he hadn’t been since he and June had broken up. Now, he was happy and content, and Jack could practically see the love he had for Sarah glowing on his skin.

After spending time with her, he understood how Quinn had fallen so hard, so fast. She was kind but willing to put in the work, genuine and honest, but funny and snarky.

Might as well just get it over with.

“Listen, Sarah,” he began, looking down at his glass of milk, “I’m sorry.”

She continued to look at him over her mug. It struck him that she waited for him to finish without jumping in or jumping to conclusions.

“You’re really good for Quinn,” he admitted.

Something in her heart fluttered.

“And I’m sorry I’ve been kind of a dick. With June it was pretty obvious they weren’t going to last so I never put much stock in her, but I…” he chewed briefly on this thumbnail, thinking, “but I can see how you guys are good together.”

A smile reached her eyes.

He blew out a deep breath. “It’s just…Quinn’s my brother, you know?” Shaking his head, he raked a hand into his hair, “I’m sorry, I'm not making any sense.”

“It’s okay, Jack,” she said, her voice calm. He wondered if she ever raised it. “I’ve been through this, too, when my sister started dating someone seriously. It’s weird and hard when someone new comes into your family.”

“Yeah.”

“I don’t ever want you to feel like I’m taking Quinn away from you or something.”

“You couldn’t,” he said, then realized how stupid that sounded. “I mean, I know you wouldn’t. I can see that now.”

Smiling in a way he realized was totally genuine, she set her mug on the counter. “Thank you, Jack. That means a lot coming from you.”

It was like she knew all he needed was time. There were no hard feelings, no grudges or fits. No glares from across the room. She just waited and gave him time, and wasn’t mad at how much he needed.

And now that he’d admitted it, she let it lie, changing the subject as soon as it’d been put to rest. “So, do you want some eggs?” she asked, turning back to the fridge.

It was a refreshing turn of events.

“Sure,” he stood from the bar stool, “how can I help?”

By the time Quinn wandered down the stairs, clumsy with sleep and rubbing his eyes, they had omelets going.

Looking nervously between Jack and Sarah, side by side in the kitchen, he briefly wondered if he was still dreaming. One night, and it seemed all of Jack’s hesitations had been put to bed.

“Morning,” he yawned.

Sarah glanced over her shoulder, smiling bright, “hey, how’d you sleep?”

“Good,” he said through another yawn as he walked up to them. He slipped an arm around Sarah’s waist and rested the other on Jacks shoulder, “you two made up?”

“I don’t think we were fighting, really,” Sarah said, “but we came to an understanding.”

Jack smiled gratefully, and Quinn leaned in to kiss her cheek.

Want more Quinn & Sarah? Check out the Snapshots Masterlist

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#quinn & sarah snapshots #quinn hughes #quinn hughes fanfiction #quinn hughes fic #quinn hughes x oc #quinn hughes imagine #quinn hughes fanfic #quinn hughes oneshot #qh43 #nhl fanfiction #nhl imagine #hockey romance #hockey fanfiction #jack hughes #luke hughes #hughes brothers

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gh0stly-pages · 1 month ago

Text

Out of Our Minds (Part 1)

Ledger! Joker x f!reader (18+)

CW: just swearing for now :)

Summary: You’re a psychiatrist at Arkham, and have now been assigned to the most recent of Batman’s enemies, the Joker. You’re already barely getting by, but this new patient poses a challenge. If you can get him to show progress he’s getting better, then you might get a raise. If he doesn’t seem to be getting anywhere, then you’ve lost your job. You’re prepared to work extra hard to help him but the Joker is nothing like what you’ve expected. Everyone warns you how he’ll get inside your mind, crawl under your skin.

They might be right.

Next part

Notes: I’m not sure if there’s an audience for this, this is lowkey kinda just guilty pleasure for me, but I hope some other people will enjoy this series :) I’ve always wanted to see a Harley Quinn in the Dark Knight universe, so in this fic, you are Harley (well, similar to her, lol). Obviously there’s no cannon Harley-type character in the Dark Knight trilogy so this is all made up, and I’ve taken bits and pieces from different DC Harley’s, plus their relationship with Joker, so look out for that :) So, just have fun with it, hope you enjoy!

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

Time seems to move slower at Arkham.

You adjust your coat, having barely swiped in just minutes ago but already it feels like hours and you’ve only just gone to the main office space and grabbed a cup of coffee. The coffee tastes disgusting, but you’re running off little sleep, so you down it quickly. Even from the office, you can hear the screams, cries, and rambles of the Arkham patients in the distance. You’ve been working here for two years already and still haven’t grown used to the constant roar of madness. You’re not upset over it though. You’re here to help these people, to help make sure the people in your city of Gotham are well. So, in a way, you welcome the noise. But that doesn’t mean you're fond of it, nor does it mean it lets you sleep.

Most people you talk to (which is very few, considering you’re always working) tend to judge you for choosing Arkham of all places to work. And, you’re honest with them, it certainly wasn’t your first option, but they pay well enough so that you can rent a decent apartment and you’ve quickly grown to enjoy the challenge it poses. It’s the higher-ups and the fear of being fired at any minute that makes the job truly a chore at times. But people will be assholes, and you’ve come to accept that.

When you’re done with your coffee, you toss the cup in the trash, grabbing a folder from out of your bag. It holds all your notes and the files of all the patients you deal with. You’ve got quite a few patients to meet with today, each with their own unique problems, their own unique story. You look over your notes, leaning against a wall when one of your bosses enters the room.

“Hello, y/n,” says Robert Dale, hanging up his coat on a rack to the side of the room. He’s a squat little old man who helps manage the asylum, keeping track of all the psychiatrists. He certainly isn’t the kindest of bosses, and you’re sure he only keeps you around because you’ve learned to just go with whatever the hell he and the other big Arkham bosses say. Sure, you can be easily submissive, but it’s that or the streets. “I’ve been meaning to talk to you.”

You frown. That can’t be good. Everytime Dale talks to you, it’s either to demand, critique, or complain. “Good morning to you too, Mr. Dale,” you mumble.

He takes a deep breath and stuffs his hands in his pockets. “You’ve been watching the news, I presume?”

You nod. Who hasn’t? You live in Gotham, for crying out loud, and there’s almost too much crime to keep track of as of recent. Especially ever since that Batman showed up, some kind of masked hero who you never got the hype over. “Of course.”

“You see all that stuff about…the Joker?”

The Joker. The Clown Prince of Gotham. Chaos incarnated. A rowdy clown criminal facing up against Batman. He had just been caught by the Bat a week ago, and the news had been all over the case, wanting to know where he was sent next. Where he was being held. If he would ever come back… “Yeah, I’ve heard.”

“See, he’s been being held up in Blackgate, but he is now officially joining our little…family.” He said the word darkly, snorting. Your breath hitched in your throat. The Joker? “Anyways, he is a bit of a, and I'm sure you know this, tough nut to crack. He arrived here yesterday, in a solitary, high security cell and we’ve been looking for a proper person to… attend to him. We sent in a few of our other psychiatrists as a sort of test, seeing who he fits well with.”

“Right,” you bring yourself to say, even though your whole mouth feels like it’s filled with sand. The Joker. Here. At Arkham. “And?”

He sighs, running a hand through his graying hair. “Every single one of them left that room different. Some were crying, others looked shell shocked. Batman told us Joker was going to be hard to deal with, but we weren’t quite expecting something of this level. He bends the mind, tries to break you. Twists the way you think until you don’t even know who you are. Gets under your skin. So, let's just say, we’re looking for someone strong enough to take on our special little patient.”

You know where this is going, and even when Dale says the words, your mouth still drops. “I’m assigning you to the Joker, Miss l/n. You’ve always been up for a good challenge, and are very good at listening to our orders.”

Right. So I don’t get fired and end up homeless or working for some crooks. “Mr. Dale, I have other patients I need to attend to today and I have no room to fit in-”

He cuts you off with a wave of his hand. “I have already swapped your ten o'clock appointment so you can meet with the Joker. This is very important, Miss l/n, and you wouldn’t want to fail us, would you?”

As easy as you find it to work with your patients, the higher-ups are much harder for you to manage. “No…”

“Then it’s settled, you’ll be meeting with Joker at ten today, every other day, or more if necessary. You’ll file reports after every session on how your patient is doing, and if we see any progress, well, we may just have to raise your salary.”

Now that catches your attention. You didn’t even know a raise was possible. Especially not for you. You’ve been working so hard your whole life for what feels like nothing but now? Now, maybe all that work will finally pay off. “Mr. Dale, thank you. Thank you so much-“

“Don’t get too excited. If our patient doesn’t show any progress, well… we might have to let you go.”

At that, your entire face falls, your shoulders slumping. “What…?”

“Well, we’ve been needing to make a few cuts on psychiatrists and anyone might be subject to getting kicked.” He smiles and pats your shoulder. “But don’t worry, I have full faith in you.”

His words do nothing to soothe you as your heart pounds heavily in your chest. The toughest patient, all your responsibility, and you have to make him better under a certain amount of time or else? Shit. They were practically setting you up for failure. No. No, you can’t think that way. You’ve dealt with tons of patients, and every single time you’ve managed to get good results. This will be the same thing… “It- it’s a wonderful opportunity, thank you. I won’t let you down.”

He laughs and walks off. “I sure hope not.”

___________________________

“I’m here to see the patient.”

The guard looks up at you through his sunglasses and smirks. He uses the gun in his hands to point at you, and you step back. “Ah, so you’re the one they decided on to fix up this lunatic?”

“We don’t refer to them as lunatics, sir. And, yes, I’m Doctor y/n l/n.” Digging into the bag on your shoulder, you pull out your ID and hand it to the guard.

He glances at it once, bored, before grabbing his walkie talkie. “It’s Doctor y/n l/n you’re expecting, correct?”

The garbled voice on the other side responds back. “Correct.”

The guard looks back up at you. “Gimme your bag, please.”

You’re a bit startled, but give him your bag. Already, before even getting to this checkpoint, you’ve been through two whole security checks, and were definitely not expecting another. This Joker guy really is trouble. That just makes you panic even more. Trouble is hard to tame. The guard rummages through the bag a bit before nodding and handing it back, clicking on his walkie talkie again. “Doctor is clear for entry.”

A click noise sounds, and the door opens, leading to yet another room with another door with two more guards standing beside it. You jump as the door behind you clamps shut, and the two guards hardly flinch. The one to the left moves forward, holding something out in his hand. “This is your panic remote. See the green button right there? Press that when you’re done with your session or you need to get out. Got it?”

You grab the remote, looking at it closer. “What about the red button?”

“That’ll set off a gas that’ll knock the Joker out cold.”

Oh. That doesn’t sound good. You’ve dealt with some pretty nasty people but nothing ever this intense, nothing that needed this level of precaution. “Okay… Wait, won’t the gas get to me too?”

The guard shrugs. “Eh, yeah, but you’ll be fine. The doctors will fix you right up.”

You tuck the remote away in your coat pocket. “Right. Thanks…”

The other guard who hasn’t spoken a word until now enters some kind of code into the pad on the door and it swings open. “Good luck, sweetheart.”

The nickname makes you cringe but you step forward and bow your head. “Mhm.”

As soon as you step inside, the door slams closed, and you’re left to face the man everyone has been whispering about.

And there he is, sitting behind a table, looking up at you. The first thing that strikes you is his face, which lacks any makeup, and you don’t know if it shocks you because you’ve only ever seen him with his makeup on or because he appears human. Not quite the monster he’s made up to be. His skin is slightly tanned, his eyes brown and dull, his hair curled and askew down to his neck. Although he doesn’t have his makeup, there’s faded green hair dye still at the tips of his hair. His signature purple coat and suit has been swapped for a straitjacket. You try to look only into his eyes, but instead you flush and look at his mouth. His mouth, gosh. Without the smeared red makeup, you can see his scars so clear, the mangled flesh titled up into a smile on either side of his lips. Whatever caused those was nasty. Always smiling.

Bringing yourself to move, you carry yourself to the table, sitting down in the chair across from him, and you try and pretend your heart isn’t hammering. As you sit down, his eyes trace your everything. It makes you feel like some kind of animal. Is he studying you? Plotting your death? Horrible, but who knows with a man who is all unknowns? You clear your throat. “Uh, hello there, Joker. Can I call you Joker?”

He frowns and licks at his lips, smacking them together. At first, you don’t think he’ll talk, but it just takes him a second. “Well, what else would ya call me?”

You’ve heard him speak before, on the television, in those frightening hostage videos, but it’s more chilling in person, his distinct voice causing you to shudder. If he notices, he doesn’t say anything. “R-right. Joker. I’m Doctor y/n l/n. Feel free to call me y/n, though.”

“Y/n,” he says slowly, as if tasting the name on his tongue. You resist shuddering again. “You’re the one they assigned to, ah, fix me up?”

You nod. “That’s me. But please, don’t think of it as fixing you. Think of it as helping you.”

“Help,” he spits out the word. “Whatever ya wanna call it. Sure. What ever happened to those other people they sent to see me the other night? They were all just so fun to play with.”

His words have a lot of bite behind them. Dale warned you about this. He was going to mess with you, and have fun doing it. “I believe they weren’t prepared to attend to you.”

“Awwww, did I hurt their feelings?” His voice is dripping with pure sarcastic sadness. He even feigns a frown. Then he breaks into a wide grin, giggling madly. “Well, if words are gonna hurt them that badly, maybe, uh, they’re in the wrong work field, huh?”

You make sure your face doesn’t move a bit. Play. It. Cool. Besides, progress doesn’t come from backing down. “We all have our strengths. It doesn’t matter what happened to them though, what matters is that I’m here now.”

“They really threw ya to the wolves, Miss l/n.” His tongue traces across his teeth. “Lucky for you, I won’t bite. Yet.”

You try very hard to ignore him. He probably does bite. “Today is gonna be a short meeting. Testing the waters. Now, we’ll be meeting every other day, so don’t feel like you need to open up to me immediately-”

“Me? Open up? If ya wanna open me up, you’re gonna need a big knife.” When your face falls, he leans forward and laughs harshly, a laugh laced with insanity. “Ha! Tough crowd, it seems.”

Already, he’s testing your patience. But you’ve faced worse. Or at least, you’ll pretend you have. “Mr. J, please-”

“Mr. J?” The Joker sits up straighter. “Heh, I like that. Makes me sound, uh, all fancy and stuff.”

“Mr. J,” you say again, this time harsher. “Today, I just want to get to know a bit about who you are. This is our first session so I’m not expecting too much. We don’t have to dive into the crimes, or your past, but I just wanna get to know a bit about you.”

He snorts. “Why?”

“I’m trying to help, Mr. J. I can’t help you if I don’t know… well, you. Not to mention, we have absolutely nothing on you. No files. No previous history. You’re a bit of a mystery.”

“Ah, a mystery.” He licks at his lips a few times before licking at the inside of his cheeks, no doubt tracing along his scars. “And you wanna solve me.”

“No, I just want to learn a bit more.” You reach into your bag and bring out your clipboard and a pen, clicking it once. “Now, where would you like to start? Maybe your childhood? Your job before your crimes?” His face contorts, and his nostrils begin to flare at such personal questions, so you try and tone it down. Before he lunges at me and chokes me to death. “It’s okay, we can start small. What are your interests?”

His shoulders drop a bit. He rocks back and forth in his seat, humming in thought. It’s weird, really, to see him like this. Not blowing something up, or filming himself raming about some kind of new evil plan he has. “Hmmm, well, I like, uh, a good joke every now and again. I like, hm, ah, a good tussle. Blades. TNT.”

You scribble it all down, right with a question mark and a frowny face. None of that sounds promising. “Right…”

“What’s wrong, doll? You seem…” He smiles gleefully. “Upset.” His T’s are pronounced harshly.

Doll. You should definitely correct him, to tell him to call you by your name, but you decide to let it slide. “No, I’m just… taking it all in. So you like weapons. Jokes. Is that how you decided on your name?”

He smacks his lips. “More or less.”

“Okay. Right. And the whole clown thing, your persona-?”

“Persona? Ha! This is aaaallllll me, dollface.”

“Right. So, the clown thing, how’d that come about? Your makeup, what’s the reason for it?” As you say it, your eyes fall to his scars, the way his lips lick along the very edge of them, and when he catches sight of this, he glares.

“Ah ah ah,” he coos darkly. “We won’t be getting into that today.”

You swallow hard. “Okay. It’s fine. One day at a time.”

He nods and leans forward, and it’s like his eyes can see into your very soul. “Ah, enough about me, huh, doll? Tell me about little ol’ you.”

You frown. “We’re not here to talk about me, Mr. J.”

“Oh, you’re not, but I would like to hear a thing or two about the person I'll be spending lots of, uh, personal time with.”

The way he says personal time, with an almost ferociousness to it, makes you break out in goosebumps, and you’re thankful for the coat covering your arms. “Hm, fine. What do you want to know?”

“Oh, ya know, a bit of this, a bit of that.” He tosses his head around. “How’d you end up in a shithole like Arkham?”

You take a deep breath. Does he seriously care to know? Or is he messing with you? Knowing what you know about him, you’re sure it’s the latter. “Well, it’s always been my passion to be a psychiatrist. I love Gotham and I wanna help its people.”

Joker leans back. “Hmmm, you’re one of those little doctors, huh? Wanna get everyone all fixed up so you can feel like a little saint?”

That takes you aback. You resist the urge to glare. Stay calm. You’re trying to help. “No, I don’t want to be a saint. I just want to-“

“Make yourself feel better? Wanna, uh, be able to give yourself a pat on the back and say ‘look at how amazing I am’? Puh-lease. Nobody really wants to help because they’re selfless.” He leans in. “We’re all selfish, every last one of us. So don’t lie. Nobody likes a liar.”

If you were anyone else, you might have wavered. So this is what they meant when they said Joker was a tough case. He had flipped the tables and started trying to analyze you. Well, you were tough enough, and you weren’t going to back down. You look him right in the eye. “You have a very interesting world view, Mr. J. But if I was just doing this for myself, we wouldn’t be seated here today.”

“Oh, but you didn’t choose to be here, they stuck ya in with me.” His eyes widen. “Seems your bosses aren’t too fond of ya, doll. Or are you just so stuck beneath their boots that you didn’t even question them?”

Now he was really reading you. How could he tell? Was he just that good at digging into people, or were you just too much of an open book? Whatever it was, you pushed it aside. Don’t give in. You’re not doing this for your bosses, you’re doing this for you. “You’re very observant. But again, we’re not here to analyze me. We’re here to talk about you.”

He shrugs. “Whatever you wanna say, doll. But don’t worry,” he says, licking his lips, “I’ll figure you out before you even get anywhere with me. In fact, I think I’m already getting a good guess.”

“Please, Mr. J, I’m the psychiatrist here. Now, our session is coming to an end-”

“Pity.”

“-but I have one last question before our session ends.”

“Go ahead, doll.”

“If you were to describe yourself in one word, what would you use?”

“Ha! Easy. Chaos.”

“And, why does this word define you? Why do you want to be chaos? What do you get out of it?”

He shakes his head. “Ah ta ta, that’s more than one question, doll face. Now, before you leave, lemme, uh, ask you the same thing. What word would you use to describe me?”

His question takes you slightly off guard. There were tons of things you could say. Insane. Wild. Crazy. But those would describe the Joker he was outside, the man that fought the Batman. Whoever you were looking at now was clearly more than that. “Intriguing.”

With that, the Joker's face split into a wide smile. “Ah, now that’s a new one. I think I might actually come to enjoy these, ah, little sessions.” He tilts his head. “I expect you’ll be going now?”

You reach into your purse and grab the remote. “Yes, Mr. J. Thank you for your time. I’ll see you soon, okay?”

He’s smiling so wide now, the tips of his scars almost touch his ears. There’s something about his smile. It’s not horrible, not at all. It’s mesmerizing.

“I can’t wait.”

___________________________

That night you can’t go to bed, but not for the same reasons as usual.

Most nights, as you settle down, you’re pulled from sleep by the phantom echoes of the screaming of Arkham patients. Other nights, you’re up for hours thinking of different ways to help your patients. But tonight, you can’t be bothered to think about anyone but the Joker. Dale was right. Already, he’s creeping into your mind, settling beneath your skin. You should be frightened, really, but your mind just wanders with fascination. No, you definitely will not be getting sleep tonight. Instead, you grab your laptop and type in your patient's name. If he won't tell you anything himself, then you’ll get to the bottom of it.

You end up reading about him for hours. Intriguing, indeed.

End notes: see you next time ;)

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