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utterlyotterlyx · 9 months ago

Note

Hi!!! I can request a modern!azriel x reader in which he likes her, but all his attempts to get close to her have been thwarted because they got off on the wrong foot. Then someone tells him that she's part of a book club and he starts joining just to get closer to her and the rest is up to you :)

Ooooooo I love this! x

New Pages

Modern!Az x Reader

Warnings - swearing, angst, pining, fluff, cutie Az

I have not proof read this so I apologise in advance for any mistakes x

And in that moment, I swear we were infinite.

The background of your phone screen harmonised with the words inscribed on the flesh of your arm. You were bundled under blankets, pillows cushioning your back, and your eyes scanned the plethora of words in front of you, your tea long forgotten on the window ledge.

Your sorority house was teaming with girlish laughter, the quick padding down the hallways and the dull melodic thump of Nesta's bass told you one thing, the house party Mor had insisted on throwing for Feyre's birthday was going to start soon, and you hadn't even thought about getting ready.

Would they realise if you didn't go? It was completely possible to throw your earbuds in and lock your bedroom door...

That train of thought was interrupted when the said birthday girl sprang through your door, "You're not ready?!" Feyre squeaked, large rollers were pinned in her hair and she stood at the foot of your bed with fake eyelashes in one hand and a small vial of glue in the other.

"I lost track of time," you told her, curling your legs underneath you and laying your book down open on the bed so that you could pick up right where you left off, "Also, have you ever heard of knocking?"

"We don't knock," she quipped, throwing herself down on the bed and sighing, "This doesn't have anything to do with him does it?"

"With who?"

"Oh, come on, Y/N. You know who," she prodded your side and you groaned, folding your arms over your chest whilst Feyre applied glue to the thin onyx lash line, "If it helps, I really don't think he knew you were behind that door," she blew lightly on the lash, party drying the glue and used your mirror to fix it to her right eye.

You winced at the memory, your fingers ghosting over the bridge of your nose that had only days before returned to its normal hue, "I've only just gotten rid of that bruise, all the concealer in the world couldn't hide that mess."

"Still," she blinked, "I really don't think he did it on purpose. Rhys said he felt really bad."

"Like he felt bad after the time he ran over my foot on that stupid motorcycle? I missed the Van Gogh exhibit because of that bullshit."

"Y/N..." Feyre drawled, exasperated with you and your excuses, "Please just get dressed," she had applied the other eyelash to her left eye and pushed them into place before turning to you with a smirk, "Before I let Mor in here."

"Okay, I'm up."

All of the entangled grinding bodies did little to soothe your anxiety.

You'd never been much of a party girl, and you had only joined the sorority because Mor and Feyre had insisted upon it. Lights strobed against the pale pink glittery banners and balloons that Elain had spent all day carefully throwing up whilst Nesta enlisted Cassian to get all of the booze.

The seating area in the centre of the room was brimming with all of the faces that you knew, Rhys with Feyre sat on his lap adorning a pathetic plastic tiara on the crown of her head, Mor wedged next to them with her legs strung over Emerie's thighs, Amren chatting away to Elain and Lucien on the far sofa, Nesta making sex eyes at Cassian, and then there was him.

Azriel.

The lights reflected off his smooth skin, tussled onyx short hair that looked somewhat windswept, hazel eyes and his strong jaw ticking as he searched the room before his eyes landed on you, finding you in the ocean of bodies surrounding where they all sat.

"Y/N!" A voice shouted to you over the crowd, red wine hair and amber eyes, she held her hand out to you and you clutched onto it, allowing her to pull you through into a small clearing by the stairs.

"Thanks, Bryce," she smirked over her shoulder at you, plucking two drinks from Hunt's hands and placing one in your grip.

Bryce was one of Nesta's friends that you had met when she had joined your art history class after a timetable mix up, you'd been pretty close since, you studied with Bryce in the library and Hunt occasionally joined as did Bryce's brother, Ruhn.

"Don't mention it," she clinked her glass against yours and you both downed half of the liquid, clearly you had some catching up to do from taking as long as possible to get ready, only joining the party when Nesta had sent you a snappy text about kicking your ass down the stairs if you didn't show your face in the next five minutes.

"Hey Athalar," he grinned at you, muttering a hello as he gave you a side hug. Hunt liked you a lot, you were good for Bryce, you were gentle and timid, but had a thunderous passion for the things you loved. Bryce was one of those things.

Bryce gave you a once over. A sleek white dress clung to your figure, every curve accentuated perfectly by the clean cut fabric that reached just below you ass, giving a perfect view of your legs. Black heeled boots were laced onto your feet, hair styled into effortless waves, and your makeup was simple and natural, highlighting your cheekbones and lips. Bryce approved.

Bryce smirked, noticing the pair of violet eyes that crept up behind you, they wrapped their arms around your waist and hoisted you in the air, placing you over their shoulder and twirling you around, chuckling as you squeaked in surprise, "Put me down, Ruhn!" With a light tap on your ass, Ruhn obliged and put you back on your feet.

Ruhn always looked good, long hair pulled back into a low messy bun, the sides always shaved, tattoos flowing up and down his arms, tan skin, taut muscle, tank top and cargo jeans. So good.

"Can't help myself," he slid an arm around your shoulder and pressed a kiss to your temple, "You look beautiful."

The elder sibling had always pined after you, he would wait in the courtyard outside of the art building to walk you back to the house, he'd bring you breakfast on a Sunday, he'd even taken you to your first football game.

"Thank you, Ruhn," you leaned into him and smiled, tuning back into the conversation between Bryce and Hunt, and the newly arrived Tristan Flynn, paying little attention to the burning hot hazel gaze that branded into your back.

There had been too many times where Az had fucked up.

Running over your foot was an accident that led to the spiralling mess that was your relationship, and every time he had tried to make up for it, it just kept on getting worse. Chocolates? Turns out you were allergic to nuts and blew up like a balloon. Coffee? He'd spilt the oat chai latte all over your brand new summer dress and ruined it. The movies? He had miscounted the group and forgot to get yours, and by then there were no tickets left. And then the door. That stupid fucking door. Azriel was so busy talking to Feyre about you that he didn't see you on the other side and smashed it right into your face.

Every time Azriel tried to talk to you, to voice how sorry he was and how stupidly in love with you he was, he fucked it up.

So yeah, he didn't blame you for hating him.

"Wanna stare a little harder, Az?"

Azriel turned his head slightly, forcing himself to look away from Ruhn's arm around you and his lips by your ear, whispering who knows what to you. At least the bruises under your eyes and around your nose had cleared, enough that you no longer winced when you smiled.

"She seems a little off today," he said to no one in particular, letting his words float into the air in hope someone would tell him why.

Azriel had spent a good amount of time studying you and your little quips, the face you'd make when you were concentrating, how many cups of tea you'd make after leaving them somewhere and forgetting about them, even your morning routines on your way to class.

Mor threw herself down beside him, the sofa cushion hissing out under her weight, "She missed book club tonight, she loves book club," Mor's eyes were glazed over, a sloppy smirk pulled at her lips.

"Book club?" Azriel asked, he knew you loved reading, but he never knew that you went to an actual book club.

"Yeah, you know, a place where people talk about the books they've been reading?," Nesta scoffed when Azriel flipped her off, she continued, "This week was meant to be the first session about The Perks of Being a Wallflower, it's her favourite," Nesta stirred her drink with her straw, "Just in case you wanted to make a gesture."

Azriel nodded, his eyes finding you again, "Thanks, Nes."

Azriel was fiddling idly with his fingers as people began to file into the room clutching copies of the book you loved so much, the same book that he had rushed out to get the morning after Feyre's party so that he could read it in time to talk to you about it.

Walls of books lined the room, dainty oak tables and arm chairs scattered around in a circle with blankets folded neatly over the arms. Warm fairy lights lit the ceiling, and Azriel understood why you must have been sad to have missed the last session.

He heard your laugh before he saw you, he saw the edges of your skirt that kissed the floorboards and allowed his sight to roam upward until he found your eyes wide and full of surprise, stuck in the doorway. You soon shook off the surprise and took a seat at the other side of the circle, looking to him occasionally with confusion.

"What quote resonated with you the most, Azriel? There are a lot to choose from."

You had looked to him then, really looked at him, not with hatred or any form of disgust, but with pure curiosity, bright shiny curiosity.

"It's much easier to not know things sometimes. Things change and friends leave. And life doesn't stop for anybody. I wanted to laugh. Or maybe get mad. Or maybe shrug at how strange everybody was, especially me. I think the idea is that every person has to live for his or her own life and then make the choice to share it with other people. You can't just sit their and put everybody's lives ahead of yours and think that counts as love. You just can't. You have to do things. I'm going to do what I want to do. I'm going to be who I really am. And I'm going to figure out what that is. And we could all sit around and wonder and feel bad about each other and blame a lot of people for what they did or didn't do or what they didn't know. I don't know. I guess there could always be someone to blame. It's just different. Maybe it's good to put things in perspective, but sometimes, I think that the only perspective is to really be there. Because it's okay to feel things. I was really there. And that was enough to make me feel infinite. I feel infinite."

Azriel had recited the passage perfectly, he didn't even need to open the book and turn to the page. He just knew it. His voice was so deep and spoke emotion into every word, like he was in a trance.

The session had wrapped up and you had kept your distance during the breaks, seemingly lost in a world of thought, so Azriel thought it would be best to leave you alone. If the baby step in your relationship simply was having you look at him with anything but hatred, then he'd take it, he didn't want to push it.

"Azriel, wait!" Your voice called to him and he froze on the grass outside of the art building, turning slowly to face you as you jogged across the plain toward him, your skirt flowing in the wind behind you.

You looked pretty, you always did, but in the moonlight, with your hair tied back and loose threads falling over your face, with the two sizes too big jumper drowning your figure, he thought you looked ethereal.

"I didn't know you liked reading," you had said once you stopped in front of him, holding your favourite book to your chest.

"I don't talk about it."

"Right, it's just Feyre never mentioned it," you tucked a loose strand of hair behind your ear and smiled up at him with a tilted head, examining him.

Azriel took a step toward you, one hand in his pocket and another holding onto his own copy, "Why would Feyre mention it?"

"I, I don't know actually," you mumbled, slightly flustered, you were adorable when you were flustered, "Is that your first time reading it?"

"Yeah, it was great. I see why it's your favourite."

"How do you know that?" A smirk tugged at your lips, ones that he wished he could taste, just once, so that he could tell the devil he had been to heaven without ever stepping foot there.

"Nesta may have said something."

"Ah," you kicked the air, shivering at the cold breeze that brushed past you, "Would you like to borrow my copy? I left notes in the margins that you might like."

Azriel glanced at your outstretched hand, he looked at the book with the dented spine from the countless times it had been explored, the frayed edges and the faint hue of blue ink that peeked out from one of the pages. He took it from you with a smile, "Can I, uh, walk you back?"

A moment of silence beat its heart and you hummed, "I think I'd like that."

"Right, great," he told you as you began to walk off, quickening his pace to fall in line with you.

You smelt of summer rain of freshly cut grass, of jasmine and orchid, a mind altering scent, "You know that I never meant to run over your foot last year right?"

"Or spill coffee over my dress? Or smack my face with that door?"

"Yeah, I haven't been very smooth," you laughed, actually laughed at him, with him, and it was an intoxicating sound, one of pure joy and happiness, "I never meant to hurt you."

"I believe you," the stars shone in the sky and you looked up at them, a smile ghosting at your lips, "I'm ready to turn a new page if you are?"

"I'm all about turning new pages."

You leaned into him, nudging him softly with your elbow, "Let's see what you've got then, Shadowsinger."

Authors Note

I really hope this is what you were wanting!

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pure-smut · 4 months ago

Text

say red: part 2

featuring: Iwaizumi Hajime x f!reader

contains: academic rivals to lovers, dom!Iwaizumi, degradation, dirty talk, rough s*x, creampie, some angst at the end

note: all characters are over 18!

MDNI | 18+ content

word count: 1.5k

series: 1. say red | 2. say red | 3. say red

masterlist

Iwaizumi Hajime nibbles his bottom lip when he’s concentrating.

You play with the straw of your iced coffee as you watch him, his eyes fixed on the notepad in front of him, scribbling furiously. His roommates are hosting a gaming marathon, complete with snacks, soda, and copious amounts of BO, so Iwaizumi had asked you to meet him at a coffee shop instead.

You’ve been meeting up twice a week for over a month now, as you’d both agreed. About 20% of that was actually working on the project. Which is probably why Iwaizumi is so focused on his notes right now, his bottom lip caught between his teeth.

“You could help, y’know,” he mutters, not looking up or breaking pace from his writing.

“I’m providing emotional support,” you say brightly, taking a sip of coffee.

Iwaizumi sits back with a sigh, rubbing his eyes.

“That means so much to me,” he says flatly, before gesturing at his notepad. “I can’t figure this out.”

You peer over, obnoxiously slurping coffee from the bottom of your cup.

“Oh, that?” You point at one of his answers. “You’re mixing up the numbers here.”

“What?” Iwaizumi shoots forward, eyebrows furrowed. “Where?”

“Here.” You drag your finger down the page. “And here.”

You sit back, rattling your straw through leftover ice. Iwaizumi stares at the page.

“How do you do that?” he says quietly.

“Do what?”

He turns to you, frowning.

“You don’t even bring a pencil to class. You file your nails when you’re meant to be paying attention. You don’t even try.” Iwaizumi’s voice breaks slightly, his jaw clenching. “How do you keep beating me?”

You avert your eyes, smoothing your features into something detached. Iwaizumi doesn’t know how much you study after class, how you do listen when you’re filing your nails or playing on your phone, you just pretend not to. That you record every lecture to listen back to later.

Iwaizumi doesn’t know you looked at his notes all evening yesterday, working them out in advance.

You give a bored shrug.

“Part genius, I guess?” You flash him your sugary smile. “Don’t worry your pretty head about it.”

You reach forward and slide your hand over his thigh.

“We’re finished studying now, right? Let’s go back to mine.” You squeeze his hard muscle.

You have't brought him back to your place before, favoring his bedroom instead, but that's not much of an option right now and you're getting horny from the way his forearm muscles move when he writes.

Iwaizumi studies you a moment longer, giving you that same intense look you recognise from the first time you tried, and successfully, seduced him. Like he can see exactly what you’re doing. You’ve been physically exposed in front of him numerous times already but when he looks at you like this, it’s like he’s stripped you bare.

Your smile doesn’t falter despite your thumping heart and eventually, Iwaizumi sighs.

“You’re incorrigible,” he says, rolling his eyes, but he stands up and gets ready to leave regardless.

When you get back to your bedroom, it doesn’t take long for Iwaizumi to bend you over the desk. Since the first time you slept together and he ripped your panties, you’ve made sure you go commando every time you know you’re going to meet up.

Iwaizumi grabs you by the back of your neck, pinning you to the desk as he runs a thick finger along your slit.

“You’re always so wet for me,” he murmurs. “Such a good whore, begging to be fucked.”

You groan as Iwaizumi sinks a finger inside you, curving so he can stroke the sensitive spot he knows so well now. He’s right – there’s something about him that makes you so wet, makes your body respond to him before he’s even touched you. You can feel yourself dripping down your thigh.

“You want to be fucked, little slut?”

He presses his finger deeper and your breath hitches. When you don’t respond, Iwaizumi withdraws his finger to land a hard slap across your ass. You yelp, skin stinging.

“Yes, Iwa,” you say, pushing your hips back to rub your ass against his crotch. “I want it.”

Iwaizumi spanks you again at the use of ‘Iwa’, marking his handprint in bright red against your ass cheek. But he doesn’t scold you anymore – he hates how much he likes it now. How cute you sound, how bratty, even as you’re so lewdly on display for him. You’d called him Iwa once during class and he had to put his bag on his lap to hide the boner it gave him.

“Say red,” he tells you, leaning forward to whisper against the shell of your ear. “And I’ll stop.”

At your needy whine, Iwaizumi pulls back to unzip his jeans, pulling his cock free through the hole. It’s an unspoken rule between you both – no one gets naked. Your “project meet ups” involve hiked up dresses and half-pulled down jeans, just enough for the two of you to fuck and no more. Iwaizumi’s hand hovers over the hem of your dress, wanting to strip you of it fully and have you, all of you, beneath him.

“Iwa…” you mewl, not able to see what he’s doing with his hand on your neck. “Stop teasing.”

You wiggle your ass, the flesh moving hypnotically, and Iwaizumi pulls back to line his cock up with your entrance instead. You give a content sigh as he slides himself in.

“So fucking needy.” He strokes himself in and out a few times, coating his cock in your arousal. The sight is beyond erotic and he has to tighten his grip on your neck to stop himself from moaning.

Iwaizumi doesn’t give you much time to adjust, slamming himself up to the hilt and making you cry out. The desk rattles against the wall with each thrust as you’re pinned in place, helpless to move.

“T-too… deep...!” you cry out, hands splayed against the desk.

“Say red.” Iwaizumi slaps your ass again before spreading your cheeks, giving him better access. “Say fucking red.”

You say nothing, your hands fisting the loose paper around you. Your whimpers mix with the squelch of your sopping cunt, filling the room. It feels like Iwaizumi’s using you to get himself off and the thought makes your thighs tremble.

“You gonna cum already?” Iwaizumi taunts. “What a good little slut.”

His words spur you on, nudging you over the edge of euphoria. Your legs buckle as Iwaizumi pounds away at you, his cock hitting just the right spot inside you. Your walls clamp down around him, pulling him in every time he withdraws like you don’t want him to leave.

Your orgasm always triggers Iwaizumi’s, your pussy milking him too fucking tightly for him to think straight. He wants to last longer, wants to prolong this time with you, but you make it impossible. A trail of curses falls from his lips as he explodes inside you, marking you on the inside with his cum. He slows only after the last spurt of his seed dribbles inside you, his softening cock overly sensitive.

You don’t stand straight away, your legs like jelly, so Iwaizumi quickly grabs a towel from the floor and holds it against your puffy lips.

“T-thanks.” You huff out laughter, taking the towel from him. “Always a gentleman.”

“Not when I fuck, apparently,” he replies, a rare smile playing on his lips.

You quickly make your way to the bathroom to clean up, leaving Iwaizumi alone in your room to tuck himself away again. When you return, he’s still smiling.

“What’s funny?” you ask, readjusting the hem of your dress.

“Nothing,” he shrugs but his smile doesn’t leave.

Before you can say anything back, Iwaizumi crosses the room and kisses you. It’s not like his other kisses, rough and demanding. This one is soft and sweet. He cups your cheek with one hand as the other pulls you to him by your waist. You melt into him without thinking, your eyes fluttering closed as you kiss him back.

When he draws back slightly, your heart is thumping so loud you think it might burst out of your chest. Iwaizumi looks down at you, olive eyes glinting, and you find it suddenly hard to breathe.

“What…” You swallow past the lump in your throat and step back. Iwaizumi’s hands fall to his side. “What was that for?”

He shrugs.

“Do I need a reason?”

“I… you…”

It’s like your brain has short circuited. You scramble for a cutting retort but your mind is blank, like it’s been wiped clean. Your detached veneer that you work so hard to maintain has evaporated. Iwaizumi watches you with that same damn look, like you’re under a microscope. Like you’re naked.

Smart, cool, unbothered you has come undone by a fucking kiss.

“You should leave,” you eventually manage to say, voice hoarse.

Iwaizumi frowns, eyes narrowed. It’s like all the air has been sucked out of the room and you find yourself breathing hard, cheeks hot.

You think he’s going to put up a fight but all he says is, “Fine.”

When the door closes behind him, you press your back to it, sinking down to the ground. Six weeks ago, you didn’t even register who Iwaizumi Hajime was. Now it feels like he’s got a fist around your heart.

What happens if he decides to crush it?

masterlist

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#haikyuu smut #haikyuu x reader #haikyu smut #haikyu x reader #iwaizumi x reader #iwaizumi x you #iwaizumi x y/n #iwaizumi smut #iwaizumi hajime x reader #iwaizumi hajime x you #iwaizumi hajime smut #hajime iwaizumi x reader #hajime iwaizumi x you #aoba johsai smut #seijoh x reader #seijoh smut

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clownery-and-fuckery · 6 months ago

Text

Echo asking for Reg Manuals early on in his deployment with the Batch wanting desperately for normality. Only to find out that his shitty little brothers cannot care for anything. ever.

Hunter sheepishly hands his over and Echo just stares at it, watches the drool drip from a bite mark in the cover and goes "What the fuck did you do to it." and Hunter mumbles "I was hungry."

Never asking Hunter for anything again, then.

Wrecker looks at Echo like he grew another head and yells: "TECH, WHA'S A REG MANUAL?" which gives Echo all he needs, really. His disappointment turns to "what the SHIT" when Tech oh so calmly points to the very much ruined and indented copy of the Reg Manual that is currently the ONLY thing holding up Wrecker's bunk leg.

The brawler laughs while explaining how THAT happened while Echo tries to figure out why they didn't just.... fix the leg.......

Crosshair doesn't even say anything, just points across to where his is pinned to the wall, blaster bolts shot through the book as it's open on a diagram of a trooper. It was MEANT to display armour, but Crosshair wanted to practice for mess fights.

Echo simply sighs. Because of course he would do that.

Tech, thank the MAKER, hands Echo his Reg Manual and it's completely and utterly pristine. Echo nearly cried with joy, and Tech very expertly dodges his bone-crushing hug of thanks. He just asked for it back later.

Echo plops down in his hammock, ready to kick back and take a much needed trip down memory lane...

....only to find Tech's neat scribe COVERING the pages.

It's fine, Echo swears as he tries to read past it. Just, it's a bit hard when Tech's made so many damn corrections, pointing out errors Echo had seen himself so many times, his writing so lovely and so well tucked to the margins that Echo mistakes it for the actual text.

The deeper he goes, the bigger the notes, and on the blank pages at the front and back, Echo notices the rest of the batch scribbled and drew for each other, obviously following Tech's strict guide to not writing on the actual pages themselves.

It's.. kind of cute, actually.

Its sweet, just how much personality Echo can see in the few messy hearts Wrecker dotted along the sides, or the small reminders Hunter jotted down, for himself and for Tech. The stickman with the crosshair shooting another, goggled stickman doesn't go unnoticed, either, but the date indicates that its been years since that drawing.

At the very end, Echo's forgotten to be so upset at how defiled his usual precious Regs are, instead finding himself smiling at the drawings he found, hidden between pages. To be fair, its mostly plants, diagrams- but Echo can see Tech's handiwork in the messy drawings of Hunter, Crosshair, and Wrecker. They're younger, but it's them.

Tech didn't sign the drawing, but the attention to detail makes it rather obvious who was responsible. Echo smiles, tucking the page back lovingly to its spot, and returning the Regs with care.

Tech doesn't mention it. Echo doesn't, either. He borrows it some more, and mourns its loss when Kamino disappears.

#uh anyways they make me weep #sw the bad batch #tbb tech #tbb crosshair #tbb wrecker #tbb hunter #tbb echo #i love echo learning about his brothers through watching them... its kinda sweet

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hiskillingjar · 3 months ago

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Begging screaming and crying for something with teen edgelord oleander 🙏

absolutely you fucking can

1000+ words. sfw. cw for self harm, violent descriptions, dead animals, and uh. what i can only describe as OCD + jealousy spurned (vaguely) incestuous intrusive thoughts

“Do you have anything you’d like to say?”

Famous last words, before the gunshot and the splatter of blood, bone and brain matter out the back of a hostage’s head, almost black against the cement wall.

Lawrence stared at his laptop screen, his grey eyes fixed on the newest video on the front page of Liveleak that morning.

The hostage was a soldier and the shooter was probably another soldier, fighting a war thousands of miles from his house in the woods. Lawrence didn't tend to read the descriptions of the videos anymore, since he was more interested in the viscerality of what was posted.

Or, they should have been visceral.

Lately, he wasn't getting the kinds of reactions from himself that he used to.

He just sort of felt...numb to it all now, the worst gunshots and car accidents barely raising an eyebrow, let alone inspiring a gasp or a turned stomach.

Maybe that just meant he needed to up the stakes a little. Find a website that posted worse videos, more gruesome ones, and maybe then he'd start feeling something again.

"Dad's home," His sister, Lily, swung around his door frame, practically out of nowhere (he didn’t hear her coming up the stairs, she was that quiet), making him flinch and quickly shut his laptop, lest she see what he was looking at on a Saturday afternoon while she and Laurel were playing outside. "He's got a deer tied to the front of his truck."

"...Buck or doe?" Lawrence asked as he sat up, pushing a hand through his greasy hair.

He’d shower today. Or maybe Monday, before school.

"I dunno," She shrugged. "Whatever doesn't have horns."

"Antlers," Lawrence mumbled with a roll of his eyes, standing from his bed and setting his laptop down on the desk. "So it's a doe then. A girl deer."

"Aw, that's sad," Lily pouted, leaning in the doorframe, inadvertently pushing her chest forward. "What if it's, like, Bambi's mom or something?"

"Bambi isn't real," Lawrence said somewhat curtly, looking over his shoulder with a hard look before looking back towards his window when he saw Lily was wearing a low-cut sundress. "And Dad's killed a ton of girl deer before. Why do you care about them now?"

"Mm...I guess I didn't think about it before." She said before shrugging her freckled shoulders and skipping back the way she came, down the loft steps, clearly not bothered enough by their father's hunting habits to be too concerned by it.

Easy for her.

She wasn't the person who was going to get called on to help skin it.

She wasn’t going to have to pin the doe down, spread her limbs out, open her up, watch her bleed as he stripped her to muscle and bone.

It was always so easy for Lily.

And for Laurel, too, even if she was the more boy-ish one of the twins, sometimes more boy-ish than Lawrence himself was.

Hands clenched into fists at his side, Lawrence pressed his lips together tightly and let out a long, shaking breath through his nose, feeling his gut churn as he kept thinking about Lily in her sundress.

Yellow, adorned with daisies, white cotton socks and yellow jelly shoes to match her dress. Lily entertained her mother’s wishes for a ‘real girl’ in a ‘family of hunters’ (like Lawrence was any good at hunting anyway), a willing doll to dress up, that Laurel didn’t allow her and that Lawrence wasn’t allowed to want.

He quickly reached for the military tin on his desk, which contained his razors.

Lily’s sundress, her freckled shoulders and pale, burgeoning chest, her smiling lips and gap teeth.

He brought his other hand up and dug the blade of the cleanest razor into his wrist, barely feeling it.

Her jelly shoes which were caked with mud from playing outside, her thin legs marred with bruises and scrapes when it got too rough.

The cut stung a little more as he dragged the razor deeper into his skin, his long fingers trembling as he forced himself to feel the pain, feel it, you fucking degenerate, feel it.

Her flushed cheeks, even though she was never told off, never taught how to skin a buck, never reprimanded for crying as she did it, never told to stop crying, suck it up and cut your hair because you look like a fucking faggot, fucking faggot, FUCKING FAGGOT-

"Lawrence."

Lawrence flinched at the stern, solid sound of his father's voice, quickly turning around and pulling his hoodie sleeve down over his marred wrist, his razor digging into his palm.

"You see that doe on my car?" Father asked with a proud grin, his hands on his hips, a pocket knife on a carabiner swinging from his cargo shorts, never far away from tools of violence. “Me and the boys ‘been camping since six this morning for that beauty. Your old man got it in-,” He raised a hand up, extending two fingers towards the young boy and mimed a gunshot towards him. PEW! “One shot. Is that cool or what?!”

"Um, yeah, Dad," Lawrence nodded, his eyes stinging from the pain in his wrist, threatening to tear up. "It's…really cool. Nice one."

"Damn right it is," He smiled even broader with a satisfied nod. "You're gonna help with skinning, so your mother can use it for dinner tomorrow."

It's not phrased like a question anymore. It's a demand.

You're going to. You will.

"Yeah," Lawrence nodded too, giving Father his best approximation of a smile possible. He had no doubt that Father wouldn’t see how empty it was. "Um, just give me a minute and I'll be out in a sec."

"I'll be counting!" Father called behind him as he paced away, floorboards creaking under his weight as he jogged down the stairs and left him to it.

Lawrence let out a strangled little whimper as he pulled his sodden jacket sleeve up, inspecting the damage he’d done to himself in his pursuit for absolution.

Multiple cuts, deep and painful and still oozing with blood. His palm had been sliced open too, but not nearly as bad as his wrists had been.

“Fuck,” He murmured, chewing the inside of his cheek, his teeth grinding (too tight in his skull) as he grabbed for the military tin again for a roll of bandages.

“Dad’s gonna kill me…”

#lawrence oleander #lawrence btd #fics #headcanons #river walker #qs #i think if law was 26 in 2017 she would have been like. 14 in 2005 #so. peak awful internet brain rot age <3

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autumnaaltonen · 2 years ago

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Headcanons for alucard with a touchstarved s/o who badly wants physical affection, and affection general really, but is nervous to accept it or ask for it because she’s unused to receiving it? (She/or pronouns, if you can!)

Hella relatable my dude. Despite years of practice, I still tense up when people touch me without warning. But yet I still want cuddles from time to time, just like anyone else.

Warnings: She/Her female presenting reader, sorry gays and theys

When you first began your courtship with Alucard, you had zero expectations for what kind of love language he may present

You assumed, with being the cool vampire that he is, he would be aloof and nonchalant with his affections. Not brushing you aside, mind you, but perhaps simple and elegant when approaching you in a romantic sense

Boy were you fucking wrong

Look up PDA in the Urban Dictionary, and you'll see Alucard's photo taking up the entire page

You were wholly unprepared for the amount of physical affection your lover would throw at you immediately into your relationship

Man has zero shame

He will pick you up and carry you around bridal style, one arm under your ass, with everyone around to watch

Sneaks through walls to block your path in the hallways to wrap his arms around you and kiss you all over

If ever you're stagnant for a long period of time, he'll find his way to you and cuddle up close as he can, while you continue your business (though he is a great distraction)

One of Alucard's favourite pass-times is feeling you up, your chest in particular being his front-runner fondle spot

Sometimes you go without a bra just to surprise him 😉

Hellsing staff have gotten used to catching you two in many *ahem* compromising situations around the manor

Integra, in particular, has learned to knock when entering your or Alucard's personal spaces, scarred from the many times she's seen hands where hands should not be inside a workplace environment

And honestly, you love all of it, you really do

But being the girl you are, it becomes very daunting, very fast

What if you eventually mess up and turn him off?

Where the hell are you supposed to put your hands when he's pinning you against a wall?

Does he get annoyed if you squirm too much in his hold?

Will he realize just how pathetic you are if you ask him any of this?

All these questions and more run through your mind every time Alucard has you in his embrace, and being the observant vampire he is, it does not take long for him to notice

In an attempt to be more respectful of your space, Alucard would dial down on his advances after realizing you may not be as comfortable with PDA as he is, or any physical affection in general

He's not too disappointed, he's hundreds of years old and can wait a little while longer until you both find a good middle-ground

But the moment you realize his affections for you have begun to dwindle, the ache for his kisses and caress' barrel in, tenfold

What gives? Did he finally realize just how inexperienced you are and decide he was better off alone?

Did you fuck up when you chastised him for grabbing your ass in front of Walter a couple of days ago?

When you eventually find the courage to approach him yourself, you're trembling like a leaf

You've never outright asked for physical touch before, and with your lover being The Dracula you were obviously fearful of the rejection that may come

You will hesitantly ask him if there was something you had done, and that you are sorry and hope there was a way you could fix it

He was confused at first, knowing you have been his perfect darling girl as always, but when you mention how he has not held you as of late, he quickly puts the pieces together

He pats his lap, which you greatfully sit down upon, missing the firmness of his thighs under your rear

Alucard will mention your previous hesitance whenever he put himself upon you, and ask for clarification if he has ever made you feel unsafe or uncomfortable

That's when you finally explain your predicament, how you've never actually experienced romantic touch before, that it's all very new to you, and you were afraid he would be put off if you messed up while returning his affections

Alucard does not laugh or belittle you, and listens intently to your reasoning

However, the moment you mention how much you've missed having his arms and lips on you, that smug smirk will finally return with a vengence

Things go back to normal pretty quickly after that, thank god

Now whenever you twitch or squirm while Alucard smothers you with new sensations, it just riles him up even more knowing that he is the one who gets to teach you how to touch and take what you want

He is always ready to beckon you into his arms, no matter what the situation, and it ends up making the both of you that much more inseparable

#hellsing #hellsing ultimate #alucard #alucard x reader

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labselkie · 3 months ago

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part two agatha drabble is real. right now. watch out

i don’t have any more words. agatha gets pretty privileges for her evil shit, why else would marie stick around?!!

“Welcome! To the one place miss Maximoff won’t be able to touch,” Agatha descended to her basement with all the pride of an evil queen. One arm extended in front of her in a gracious gesture while the other was hooked around one of Marie’s. The young lady had been freed from the spell for quite some time, her true form finally revealed with the grand wings sprouted from her back. Slate blue feathers littered the steps behind them.

It was the 80s, sometime in the decade that no one could pin down. Color finally returned to Westview, albeit a bit too saturated. The basement was the one place that wasn’t changed, like ancient ruins finally unearthed, built around stone columns uncharacteristic to the sweet suburban charm of her false home. Alcoves were cemented into the ragged walls, framed with thick roots and filled with candles and cursed artifacts. Other than the thin rays of sunlight shining from an unseen window, a faint purple glowed from odd runes carved in the circular ceiling.

Agatha had seen through the spell since the start, but she’s finally got someone else in her home freed from the hex. When she reaches the bottom step, she wrangles the mutant forward and shoves her in. Marie’s wings flare out, buffering her face forward fall as they flap fruitlessly. Agatha just steps around her, withdrawing her hands and slamming the door atop the stairs shut as Marie landed with a thud.

“Whoops!“ The witch giggles as she steps around the slowly recovering Marie, “Now, don’t touch anything, we don’t need you getting any more roughed up.”

Marie’s wings rose first, twitching some as she huffed and crawled to stand. The backless dress she was given ripped at its bottom from her tumble. Agatha just walked right past, eyes set on a heavily bound book. When the mutant finally rises, she spins on her toes to face her.

“Since when was this-“ Marie began to speak after helping herself get up with one of the stone pillars, but Agatha cuts her off.

“Mmh at least five of your lifetimes,” The witch chuckles, her fingers brushing past the aged, almost yellowed pages of her odd spell book. Small sparks rose from her touch, before the pages flickered into flames, causing Marie to jolt up and hold onto a nearby vine that crept up the stone. “Just kidding! I only fixed the place up once I got here, isn’t it cute?”

The mutant steps forward wearily, the dark tips of her wings gently dragging across the stoney floor. Agatha just smiles, beckoning Marie forward with one hand as the Darkhold’s violet flame crawls up her arm and billows with its smoke.

“I’ve been up there this whole time.. Why haven’t you shown me this?” Marie mutters her question, worried that a loud tone may upset the witch.

“I didn’t know if I could trust you yet! Like I said, I don’t need you touching anything.”

At the faintest flick of her wrist, the smoke bursts to the ceiling, dimming to more of a mist. Even with a majority rising, much of it shifts to a faint lavender and creeps over Agatha’s shoulders.

“But you’ve helped me so, so much, dear,” The witch adds when Marie steps up, just within arms reach, “And I think you deserved this!”

Agatha’s hand was still outstretched, so when the mutant reached to take it, she grinned. Marie was free to leave, to go back to that perfect little life she had in Westview, but she kept sticking around. She had a new excuse every day: from “But I’d lose my mutation out there!” to “You’re better than those people.” Agatha didn’t mind, she didn’t even have a say in those excuses, Marie’s presence only helped her little guise. When that trembling, clawed hand took hers, the mist sparked back to life, its lavender strands becoming deeper violets. It even shifts in Agatha’s eyes, once a mesmerizing brown, now a striking maroon tinged with purple.

Marie’s own gold eyes widened, her brows furrowing as her wings tensed. Her hand is tugged forward, like a lover being ushered for a dance. She has to hold her wings shut so they don’t brush the book’s glowing pages. Agatha holds the small of Marie’s back with the hand enveloped in soft smoke, her other still being held, as if they were waltzing. Marie lifted her free hand, too nervous to touch any part of the witch, a noticeable reaction that made the other woman chuckle.

The mist slowly rose, around the base of the mutant’s wings and just grazing her back. She could barely feel it, shuddering slightly, before it reached like a hand through her hair and around her throat. Agatha took a step back, drawing Marie in with her, before spinning in a flourish. “Oh.. Isn’t this just wonderful!”

“What- What even is that book-“

“Don’t fret, dear, it’s just some spells!” Agatha took a flourishing spin, bringing Marie closer to the book, but with her back turned to it. The book’s runes still glowed, and the smoke that had snuck around Marie’s neck seemed to connect back to its source.

She feels herself be pulled back, squeaking faintly before Agatha dips her in their dance as to not make her choke. Her hair falls back, and the witch’s falls forward like a curtain over their close faces. Her wings sweep the floor, falling weaker from their original tense closure. Marie can’t see it, but the Darkhold was reacting to her presence, it ever so slightly pulled her in, a hook to a fish. The mist looked like it wouldn’t even be tangible, but there it was, holding around her throat and even under her hair. It glowed a bit more, her only clue being the reflection in the witch’s eyes.

“Juuuust some spells,” Agatha croons, her voice dipping just like they had in their dance. A step forward, one last step, and Marie’s back is up against the cold stone wall. Her head is just over the open pages, and she can feel an intense warmth from them. The whole page seemed to be glowing purple now, and the smoke constricted even more- Or that was just Agatha’s hands tightening.

Marie held back a small whine, before slamming her eyes shut and almost feeling her foot slip out from below her. She finally lets her eyes open when she feels her hair brush against the book below her, and the first thing she’s met with is the witch’s cunning smile.

“Scaredy cat…” Agatha mutters, looking down her nose at the mutant she held. There’s another little tug from the book, like it was trying to envelop her in its power. The smoke was beginning to shift, from black with a few sparks to an almost overwhelming iris. Marie tried to look to her side, but when that failed, she made eye contact with the witch.

“There we go!”

That was a grave mistake. One last tug from the mist around her throat, and it’s like something snapped inside of her. Her breath caught, her wings fell limp and her hands weakened. The same mist that surrounded her throat burst from the book, grasping onto her shoulders and wings like hands. Agatha doesn’t let up her hold, though. She lets go of Marie’s hand, which falls to her side, and holds the back of her head, where the mist hadn’t touched. That same color grew in Marie’s gaze, shifting that sharp yellow to an almost ashy pink as the colors mixed. A gentle haze rises over her thoughts, dimming them with an overwhelming warmth- Just for a moment.

The mist draws back in the mist, practically sucking it back into its ink. It lets Agatha pull her mutant back up, letting her falter forward and lean on her. Marie’s eyes gently shut, her wings still twitching faintly. It was an odd spell, the subject nearest to the book would have a piece of its magic intertwined with their soul. It would end up helping Marie, but until then, it benefit Agatha, making the mutant just a bit more susceptible to any magic.

“Atta girl. That wasn’t so bad, was it..?”

#writing #selfship writing #selfship #self ship #꒰ა Tongues & Teeth ໒꒱#oc x canon #agatha harkness #self insert #f/o #f/o community #romantic f/o #canon 🪽

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mudhamster · 11 months ago

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CHWHWN: 29./30. December - "One day left"

29. December

The next day, Izuku lay on the couch with a book. It was one of three books about the history of superpowers in different countries that his mother had sent him all the way from America. Instead of a bookmark, one of the books contained an extremely long letter, which he didn't know if it was an apology or a reproach after reading it. He turned a page and had both sides of the book in his hands when something slammed the book hard into his face, one of his own thumbs digging into his left eye, and the loud rustle of an old plastic bag drowning out his surprised curse. But not the evil snicker from behind the couch.

"Kacchan! My book!"

"I have something more precious here," he claimed, digging a finger through the bag and into the space between his ribs.

"What is it?"

"Look inside."

Upset by the surprise attack, but still mostly curious, Izuku pushed the book onto the small table in front of the couch and sat up straighter to look into the bag.

At first, all he saw was black, but when he put his hand inside and finally pulled out the soft, heavy fabric, he saw delicately embroidered cranes in subtle silver. Then he caught a whiff of a scent that made his next question unnecessary: "This is from you.

"Yes. A few years old, but I think it would fit around your shoulders."

"It's a ... kimono?"

" Yes," Katsuki, impatient as ever, pulled out the entire contents of the bag and stood up to show him the robe in all its glory. Izuku stared at the delicate orange accents, the shiny silver seams and was pretty sure that what he saw was a handmade piece. From Kacchan's father. One of a kind.

"But, Kacchan, I can't - what about you?"

"Like I said, it's my old one," Katsuki pointed out, rising from the couch and pressing the garment to Izuku's chest, "I have a new one. Cooler, of course."

Still stunned, Izuku held the fabric in his hands as carefully as if it were silk and followed the blonde across the room with his eyes. By the door, he stopped again, "Dad will be home in two hours, I've already let him know."

"Let him know what?"

"If it doesn't fit, Dad can fix it for you until the day after tomorrow."

Just as he was about to tell him that he wouldn't accept the kimono or his father's extra work, he received a dangerous look from glowing eyes.

"Contradiction is not an option, Izuku."

30. December

"Better?"

Izuku stood in Kacchan's father's sewing room, arms outstretched to both sides, holding a pincushion in one hand and his belt in the other.

"It... I don't know - I," had never worn a kimono before.

"Stretch your arms out in front of you, like this," Masaru instructed, pulling the sleeves up to his ankles and checking how tight the fabric was around his shoulders, "and now let them fall, okay."

The belt was taken from his hand and tied around his waist in a complicated knot. Then he tugged a little more, stepped back for a moment and nodded.

"I'll shorten this too," he smiled his fatherly smile and untied the knot with practiced hands, "then we're done."

"I don't know how to thank you all," Izuku whispered and handed over the small pillow with the pins. Just when he thought that his little concern would be smiled away as usual, Masaru rubbed his chin before giving him a gentle look.

"Go to the shrine with him."

"Okay," Izuku replied immediately. They had already agreed on that, but it seemed more special than Kacchan had implied. "Do you go every year?"

"Well," Masaru mused with a somewhat indecisive shrug, "he didn't want to go this year."

"No?" Izuku asked as he was helped out of the kimono without tripping, "Why not?"

"I don't know, son," they exchanged a knowing look, "Katsuki doesn't talk much about things that bother him. Unfortunately."

Izuku nodded.

"Do you want to see what his new kimono looks like or..."

"No thanks," Izuku interrupted politely, "I want to see it on Kacchan tomorrow."

The answer was a warm chuckle, then a "I see.“

#bkdk #mha #bakudeku #izuku midoriya #boku no hero academia #deku #fanfiction #fluff #kacchan #chwhwn #katsuki bakugou

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omaenanimonoda · 1 year ago

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does anyone read fic bit text posts?

this is from the 'missing' collection of chapters from my mid-sized fix it. i just had a random urge to reread it a couple of days ago, and i know few have seen it.

She told Da Qing: they first met in a library.

Xinyan was getting in some early studying for entrance exams and looking for a dark, quiet corner to focus in when her attention was completely diverted by a young man sitting in a beam of sunlight, eyes closed and face upturned like a napping cat.

His relaxed state contrasted so deeply with the massive pile of books in front of him that she couldn’t help sitting at the brightly lit table to satisfy her curiosity. He turned slowly at the faint sound of her chair scraping on the floor, mouth twitching with the hint of a smile and a blinking, owl-like gaze.

She quietly introduced herself, they started to make small talk, and his shy, sincere demeanor along with what seemed like utter bafflement with the world around him hooked her completely. He seemed so sweet, and so lost.

Xinyan learned quickly that he wanted to go to school, but had no idea yet how to make that happen. His reading pile didn’t center on any particular topic, or even college applications – it seemed to be split into sections from the two aisles closest to the table.

In her element and with a new mission, she gave him pages of notes on her recent experience and a copy of the long to-do list she still had to get through herself in order to get into DCU. The application documents seemed to terrify him, but she didn’t think anything of it at the time – who wasn’t intimidated by these things?

Shen Wei seemed to always be at the library no matter when she went – so they studied together frequently, though she could never quite pin down exactly what he was focusing on.

He always seemed to want to change the subject when Xinyan asked- telling her that there wasn’t anything he didn’t want to learn. She tried to suggest that spreading himself too thin might be exhausting, and that he’d have to pick a major soon enough. He didn’t seem at all worried about that, though, so she eventually let it go. They never met anywhere but the library or a nearby café, so she didn’t know where he left to go home to, afterward. He never talked about his life outside. But soon enough, acceptance letters came in, financial aid got sorted, and they were both there on move-in day at the DCU dorms.

And then over the years while they got to know each other better, she’d just picked up on strange things that accumulated over time. Shen Wei was never sick, would disappear at odd times but seemed to have no social life, never really gave any details about his past. And still even after a couple of years he would have the weirdest gaps in knowledge – which he’d started coming to her for, since he seemed to know he could trust her with the strange questions. It hadn’t taken Xinyan long to realize that he didn’t show this side of himself in front of their other acquaintances at school.

And one time when she’d gotten a horrible case of food poisoning, he’d visited with homemade soup, a thin broth that miraculously didn't turn her battered stomach. She’d been nearly delirious, but after his half-day visit she recovered strangely fast – much faster than should have been possible.

He’d asked her about it afterwards, and his surprise at her quick recovery had seemed a little forced. She already knew by then he was a terrible liar, but she also had no intention of prying into something he clearly didn’t want to share. She’d known since childhood that some people just carried a bit of strangeness, usually nothing threatening, who also usually managed to be better in general at blending in than Shen Wei. When she finally learned about Dixing, as the world was falling apart around them, it just all started to fall into place in her head. And she'd known, immediately. It would fit so well. It wouldn’t explain Shen Wei's unusual personality, necessarily, but it would explain just about everything else.

Da Qing seemed to hang onto every word she spoke about Shen Wei's past, their past, when they’d been in school together, but he also seemed to be trying very hard to keep something back. After she finished he sat, subdued, for a minute before responding almost in a whisper. “I knew him for a long time. A long time. It’s a complicated story, but – we knew each other before the end of the last war. Before Dixing and Haixing were formally separated. I knew him even before Lao -” his face twisted as he choked on the words.

She was a little confused about the specific time period he was referring to, but somehow still knew who he was referring to.

“Chief Zhao?” He curled in even further on himself.

She said, cautiously, “I know he was in the hospital for a while afterward, but haven’t heard anything since. I – there wasn’t much time, but I think – he and Shen Wei were very close, weren’t they? How is he holding up?”

To her surprise, he folded nearly in half and started sobbing into his knees.

Her stomach dropped. “Oh no – is he not okay? What happened?”

“No he isn’t - that – - that wasn’t him." Now she was definitely confused. The situation was clearly even worse than she'd realized. Da Qing shuddered, struggling to get control over his breathing to speak. He looked up at her, seeming to assess something for a moment before taking a shaky breath.

It’s a -a long story. That person is - he’s good. But he’s someone else. He – " Da Qing whimpered softly. "How do I explain this? Xinyan sat there, silent, baffled. He asked, "How much time do you have?” ~ When Xinyan listens to the message from Li Qian, she nearly walks into a wall.

After finding a chair to drop into and replay the recording 3 more times because how could she be saying what it sounds like she’s saying - she immediately texts Da Qing, then goes in search of evidence of the hospital visit.

There is no record of anyone like Shen Wei being admitted, but it turns out to be true that Zhao Yunlan was an inpatient for several days. She finds the ones who were on duty in that ward at the time and asks who visited him – they describe a large group of people who lingered at first, and then one that stayed for days before Zhao Yunlan woke up - and then they took off without proper discharge. Heart hammering, she shows them an old photo of Shen Wei that she’s kept on her phone. They confirm that it was the same person.

Her head goes fuzzy for a bit – someone helps her back to another chair, and she’s still stunned when her phone finally buzzes with a response from Da Qing. He apologizes profusely, saying that it’s all true and that he was just too preoccupied by the chaos that led up to it to update her, but confirms they’re both alive and seem healthy, physically at least.

Hands shaking, Xinyan asks for him to let her know when things are settled enough that she could see him.

She can hardly believe she’s typing these words.

Da Qing says he’ll do even better – he’s willing to bet anything that Lao Zhao is going to demand that Shen Wei finally carry a cellphone. Da Qing will give her his number as soon as it’s activated and she can call him herself.

Xinyan finally breaks down at the thought, crying so hard that some unknown, sympathetic person finds an entire tissue box to push into her hands.

#guardian fanfic #weilan #guardian #not sure why i'm doing this #but why not

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onlygenxhere · 2 years ago

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Master Fic List for OnlyGenXHere on AO3

It's far past time for me to pin a list of all my fics to the top of this page. So here we are... Total as of 11/4/24 is 50 Ratings from G to E.

Found Family Fluff (my 1st series)

Eat the Chip Rated G

It's a couple of weeks after the Orpheum and Julie is wondering what's going on with her and Luke and their interesting little relationship.

A Bigger Table Rated G

“It was no problem, we really needed a bigger table with all you boys staying here now.”

Not Today Satan Rated G (high G for cuddles)

Alex and Willie are hanging out, being super cute, going through music Alex missed in the last 25 years when Julie comes in and interrupts them with a surprising revelation.

Fix You Rated G (high G for sadness)

Sometimes a good cry is good for the soul.

Game Time Rated G

Carlos loves playing video games with the boys. He needs Julie’s help so he can communicate with them or they’ll never beat this level. Fun times.

Burn Baby Burn Rated T

Julie and Luke making out in a hammock

Faith Hope and Love Rated T (sickness and drama)

Luke is just trying to spend a quiet night on the beach catching up on 25 years of music but something is wrong with Julie.

Don't Want to Miss a Thing Rated G

Alex is feeling guilty for not coming when Julie was sick. Now she's home and he and the guys are all keeping her company in her room when he starts to notice something has changed between all of them.

Catching up with Tia Victoria Rated T (low T)

Victoria's take on all that has happened with some backstory of her and Rose too.

The Risk is Worth the Reward Rated T

Flynn is the last person in Julie’s immediate family that couldn’t see the guys without touching her. She's actively keeping them out of her heart. What will it take to get her to take the risk.

Like Real People Do Rated T

Julie and Luke are hoping to spend a nice quiet day alone just living in the now as much as they can after a crazy few weeks. Sometimes quiet can be overrated.

Falling Toward the Future College AU series

Falling Toward the Future Rated Mature (Main Fic)

College au - 29 chapters, 150K+

On a very special episode of Falling Toward the Future - Ch - 13a

Rated E - Explicit outtake

Let’s Forget for Awhile - Ch15a

Rated E - Explicit outtake

My favorite Alarm Clock – Ch-19a

Rated E - Explicit outtake

The Stars are Watching – Ch24a

Rated E - Explicit outtake

Happy Birthday Ray Rated G

Checking in with the band and family on Ray's birthday about 18 months after the end of FttF

An Unlikely Duo Rated T

Willie and Carrie buddy story that takes place while the band and Flynn off on tour for an extended amount of time. There are puppies.

Love to Big for a Love Song - Rated T - On Going

Today is the day! Julie & Luke are getting married in the Molina’s backyard. Luke proposed a few months ago on stage at Madison Square Garden in front of thousands of fans, their family, & friends on a live video feed. Those same friends & family will be here to share the celebration & maybe have a few surprises of their own.

Jukebox Baby series Rated T

We're Having a Baby Part 1

Aged up Juke decide to have a baby and get pregnant.

We're Having a Baby Part 2

First trimester of Juke's pregnancy

We're Having a Baby Part 3

Second trimester of Juke's pregnancy

We're Having a Baby Part 4

Third trimester and birth of baby LJ

We Had a Baby (meet LJ)

The family meets the new baby.

We Say We're Friends

Prequel to We're having a baby. How Julie and Luke meet and become friends.

We Play Pretend

Luke and Julie’s relationship never wavers as they navigate the stress of high school, parents and tragedy.

You're More to Me

Luke has graduated and Julie is finishing up her last two years of high school before heading off to college.

The Naughty Files - Rated M/E

When the Heart is Already Fond Absence Just Makes You Horny

Jukebox Mature, pwp, could be college years of juke from Jukebox baby universe

Bad Boys get Spankings

Luke has been an inattentive husband and Julie decides he needs to be taught a lesson. They had no idea they’d both enjoy it so much.

Love the Way You Love Me

Aged up established Julie, Reggie and Luke enjoying a night out at a club in the Caribbean where they're having a working vacation. They get up to a whole LOT of hanky panky. Rated E

Set Fire to the Rain

Julie is away at college. She’s been so busy since she got here she’s only seen Luke when she’d come home for gigs with the band every other weekend. She misses being alone with him desperately… She’s not the only one feeling this way. Rated M

Stand Alones

What if I’m someone I don’t want around Rated T

Title and prompt taken from Falling by Harry Styles. Super AU for how I think Luke really is.

As Long as We Have Each Other Rated T (high)

Aged up Juke go through a miscarriage

Maybe I Could be Yours

Explicit - Royalty AU

Fireworks - rated T

Three different stories between three different couples that take place during a fireworks show on the 4th of July.

Jukebox One-shots - rated T

Julie and Luke ficlets that don’t really have a place in any of my series.

JATP One=shots - rated T

ficlets that aren't specifically Juke, may include willex, rarrie and rukebox

The Truth if Finally Breaking Through - rated T

It’s the 1st tour for Julie & the guys the summer after they graduate High School. Julie & Luke have been dancing around their feelings for 3 years. 3 weeks crammed in tight quarters & singing together nearly every night may be more than the ever growing tension between them can take. Big Bang 2023 entry.

Julie and Luke's Book of Dares - rated T

Dash and Lilly AU featuring Julie and Luke. Christmas fic where Luke leaves a red notebook in a used bookstore for someone/Julie to find and they start writing back and forth with each other leaving dares in exchange for personal, heartfelt conversation.

A Day in the Life of a Ghost Bassist - rated T

Reggie’s day starts out pretty much like it has every day since Julie gave them her magical hug a couple weeks ago. But some things are changing too little by little.

Then some days, like today, something big changes all at once.

The Miraculous Files of Mariposaport, Maine(from Luke Patterson, S.E.O.) - Series

It's the End of the World as We Know It - rated M

Luke is a Supernatural Enforcement Officer employed by the government to protect the citizens of a small town in Maine from vampires & other supernatural creatures that might threaten the peace. He enjoys his job most days, except the paperwork, & has become friends with many of the sups that live and work in Mariposaport, Maine.

There’s a grumpy warlock that runs a bookstore. A family of vampires that run a prestigious casino and hotel. There’s a couple of strange friends that run the flower shop and the music store. Lots of weres… and a ghost.

These unlikely friends will come together when the world is in danger to save their town and hopefully their lives & the lives of all the people they care about.

Flynn's Story - rated T

Flynn reflects on the path her life has taken that has led her to this little town while the vampires & weres, the people she loves, fight the monsters threatening to overrun the town before the six that have gone out to the Duncan farm can stop the apocalypse.

The Truth Will Set You Free - rated M

It’s been three days since Alex last saw Willie. He thought they’d really cleared the air between them after what happened at the Duncan farm Halloween night. Told all the secrets that needed to be told and took care of the immediate threat to both their safety. But when Alex woke up alone the next day after falling asleep with Willie at his side that night, he’d thought maybe Willie had just needed a little space to process all that had happened.

Three days was enough space and time as far as Alex was concerned. He needed to know if Willie was ok and why he was obviously avoiding him.

Fire in my Veins and Blood on Your Lips - rated M

It’s been a week since the world almost ended. Julie has been avoiding Luke, not that he’s tried to track her down either. An emergency situation forces them to do something neither of them planned on & finally have the talk they’ve been avoiding.

Being Human - rated T

Reggie and Carrie are learning how to be human, together.

Five times Reggie and Carrie were best friends and one time they were more.

Letters From Rose - Rated T

1992

Eighteen year old Rose leaves home right after high school graduation with her best friend Kat to try and fulfill her dreams of a career in music. Leaving her sister, Victoria "Tori" at home with their parents. These are the letters she sends home to her in 1992.

1993

It's 1993 & Rose is doing well in Los Angeles. She has friends & a band that's making headway in the music scene. She still misses her sister who will be finishing up her junior year in high school & starting her senior one this year. Rose has lots of stories to share with her sister Victoria throughout 1993, both good & bad.

1994

As 1994 begins Rose is back at square one with her music & happily single after what happened with Travis. Her best friend Kat seems to be moving on from the musical dreams Rose thought they both had shared. But a new band is on the horizon, that will bring new friends & new challenges. Victoria will be graduating high school & heading off to college allowing Rose to be a little more blunt in her letters.

1995

1995 starts out tragic & just when Rose starts to feel like things are starting to look up tragedy strikes again. This time leaving behind one sad teenage boy who Rose can’t help but take in. Victoria starts her second year of college & Rose calls on her for help to pull her new friend back from the edge.

#jatp fanfiction #jatp fics #my writting #ao3 onlygenxhere #ao3 writer

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j0kers-light · 10 months ago

Text

His Lighthouse: The Verge of Ruin (LedgerJoker x f!reader)

The Verge of Ruin

series summary:

Y/n is an aspiring writer living in Gotham City and struggling to find her next muse. Her recent novel is getting all the buzz, earning her far more attention than she signed up for. But when a chance encounter results in her nursing The Joker back to health, will she find the time to write another best seller or will her own story become front page of the Gotham Gazette?

chapter summary:

Yall know I suck at these on the first go around 😂 I'll fix it later.

author's note:

Yes that is the Tiffany & Co. building! Gotham City is based to be NY so I made it work mkay? Oh my gosh I'm getting later and later with these updates…. Anyhoo! I have this wonderful chapter sitting at 9K and its setting the tone for the next event to come! Per a poll I ran in January, I did not include a cliffhanger (at least not a bad one) so I hope you enjoy the chapter and look forward to the series! 🖤✨

taglist:

@blackreaderatrisk @twinkledinkle @clemdango04 @l3ejm @tears-of-amber @what-an-angel @darthjokerisyourfather @thatsnoteii @dollster @cheetahspy @kaidennnnn @urdariingdoll @motivation-idontknowher @ins0mniac-whack @spaghettificationandpretzels @reneisance @alittlesmartcookie @ninacutebee16 @carydorse @jaysmentalspace

Let me know if you wish to be added to the official His Lighthouse taglist! Be alerted with any oneshots and the main story updates! 🖤✨

Last Chapter | Next Chapter

You could hear a pin drop inside the GCPD precinct. Not a soul inside could believe what they were hearing, especially Batman.

At first, the tale being told sounded absurd, Joker had to be lying to buy some time to escape! But as time went on... his story slowly became more believable.

More and more people stopped what they were doing to watch the interrogation being streamed throughout the precinct. Somewhere along the way, denial bled into acceptance. The impossible was happening.

This mysterious woman— either real or just a figment of The Joker's imagination, did something not even Batman could do. She rehabilitated Joker back into society.

He was a completely different person but let it be known.

Joker was still clinically insane, a true madman with a desire for evil, but he had a sliver of compassion towards others now. A seed had been sown and with it, there was a newfound moral compass within Joker. It was most evident in his behavior. He was slower to anger and the most shocking, Joker appeared to be normal.

Just who was this woman? Everyone was on the edge of their seats wanting to find out.

"I gotta say. This lady must be superhuman to put up with Joker on top of her own problems." One police officer said to another.

His partner agreed, "Two crazy ex boyfriends? The girl is a magnet for red flags."

They shared a chuckle but tuned in when Joker spoke up again. His voice was heard throughout the building via the live feed. He knew that he had an audience and played his role well.

"All that pain, all the suffering my Light went through... and she still had an abundance of love for me. I'll uh, never forget her." Joker mumbled.

"Is she still alive?" Jim Gordon asked out the blue.

Maybe now Joker had enough time to reminisce and crack under pressure. The interrogation had been going on ever since this afternoon and it seemed like Joker was far from being done.

"Mm, if I could go back in time and do things differently, I would. I'd change sooooo much. Come to think of it, I don't think I should. I was the only thing holding her together. There were... signs she was ready to snap– I ignored them of course. I guess I was too blinded by her light to see the bigger picture. By then it was...."

Batman narrowed his eyes, "It was what?"

Joker blew a raspberry and leaned further back in his chair.

For a moment, he closed his eyes and tuned everything out. He wasn't sitting in GCPD's holding. He didn't turn himself in. He didn't leave you. For just a moment, Joker was back in your apartment back to when things made sense.

He could hear the gentle tapping of your laptop keys and he could feel your presence in the air. Wait.

That familiar presence was the reason why his eyes snapped open in shock. Joker had to be hallucinating. There was no way you would be standing behind Batman so calmly wearing only Joker's baggy sweatshirt and mixed match socks. He had to be the only one who could see you.

'It's okay, you can tell them.' You urged Joker to continue but he wasn't so sure.

He was unable to keep your identity a secret if he continued his story. He needed to be sure this was what you wanted.

"But.. I don't want ya mad at me, doll."

Batman bristled and locked eyes with Jim standing in the corner. Joker was looking off to the side, having a side bar with thin air. Now this was the madman they were used to.

You shook your head and stepped closer, "I could never be angry with you J. Tell them. Tell them what happened to us.. to me."

Joker watched you fade away with a heavy heart. It was like losing you all over again. Only this time, it was for good.

He sighed and returned to his conversation with Bats and Commissioner Gordon. They both eyed him warily.

"By then... it was too late to save her. I led her straight to ruin."

It wasn't the most professional timer in the world and if you were a veteran, you might've spoken out against it.

Dr. Quinn's rapid gunfire alarm always put you on edge. She obviously thought nothing of it and turned it off but not before adding a few more lines to her session notes.

You weren't sure you wanted to know what important notes she made as you discussed your trauma with her. You didn't hold back with the gory details this time. Someone was finally listening, and you had so much to get off your chest.

You tapered off your current sentence and watched her pink pom pom pen dance in the air as she finished up.

There was the unavoidable awkward silence every time your session ended. Quite honestly, you didn't know what to do. Do you thank her for her time? Just get up and leave or what?

Thankfully, Dr. Quinn saved you from the awkwardness.

"So, Y/n. Today marks our third session! How ya feelin' so far?" She stood up and rounded her desk to log onto her desktop.

You took that time to notice her attire.

Today she was rather casual (at least by her standards) in a wrap dress that showed lots of cleavage with high stiletto heels. Something about her sense of style just rubbed you the wrong way.

Here she was a professional with a Ph.D wearing flashy, provocative clothes. She could very well be a foreign model, not a psychiatrist, but that was just your honest opinion.

Sometimes being around the attractive blonde made you feel lesser than and it didn't help that she made off hand comments whenever you body shamed yourself. Tough love seemed to be Dr. Quinn's therapeutic style.

"Is that how you really feel? I mean, you're decent looking... I guess." She briefly rolled her eyes; however, you didn't catch the motion. "You stated your current partner loves your body. Isn't that reassuring enough?"

The way she stressed the words, current partner, instantly rubbed you the wrong way. You got the impression that she didn't like you having one.

Dr. Quinn wasn't conservative, but she gave off strange vibes. She found it hard to understand how you staunchly avoided physical touch but actively had a lover.

"That's a huge contradiction, Y/n. You're a rape victim! You fear physical contact with men. During our first visit, you expressed guilt for rejecting your father's goodbye hug after your most recent episode. When this.. Bruce guy touches you—it "feels wrong" and yet you let your lover have his way with you. On multiple occasions might I add. What makes him different?"

She drilled your brain for the longest for an answer, but you couldn't provide one.

As ludicrous as it sounded, Joker's touch didn't affect you the way Bruce's or Ty's did. Joker asked for permission before he touched you out of the blue. He knew your ticks and did his best not to trigger them.

Joker always checked in and he communicated with you before, during, and after sex. He made you feel safe, both in and out of the bedroom. You had nothing to fear when Joker had his way with you and in a loose sense, you trusted him with your body. It was your heart that couldn't fully commit.

You were so afraid that this was all an act and Joker would pull the rug out from under your feet.

If you gave him your heart and he turned around and broke it, there wouldn't be any pieces left to mend back together. You would be utterly broken.

And Dr. Quinn saw that vulnerability.

"Protecting your heart takes courage, Y/n. You trust others so willingly and ya learned a valuable lesson because of it. But now there's a new man in your life who sounds like he has good intentions—you have this impenetrable wall up and you won't lower it for anyone! You'll lose this guy if you don't take a risk. Give him your heart so he can brea—ahem! So, he can love you wholeheartedly! If not, then you'll never be happy."

You didn't catch her slip of tongue. You were too busy digesting her advice with a pensive frown. It was the truth, but you didn't know how to open your heart to others after what your ex did to it.

"I... I-I don't think I can." You mumbled.

Dr. Quinn looked at you in confusion. "Why not? You f__k ya boyfriend, no?"

She waited for you to squeak out a yes, before continuing, "You already confessed that you love him to both your mom 'n pseudo brother. What's stopping ya from telling your lover?"

This tough love approach was irking your soul, but you refused to be bullied by your therapist. You failed to ppl stop the word vomit from coming out.

"I don't think I can love someone romantically after what Ty did!"

Harley tapped her pen, pressing you for an answer. "Annnnnnd what was that?"

You tried not to get offended by her flippant tone. All you could do was recap your two-year abusive relationship into sixty minutes.

That's when you finally got through to Dr. Quinn. A veil was lifted, and she saw your situation with a new set of eyes. She let you vent for the next hour, not interrupting once. She almost felt bad when the timer went off.

And so, things came back full circle. "So, Y/n. Today marks our third session! How ya feelin' so far?"

You rubbed your sweaty palms on your thighs. Retelling your story made you sweat and regret ruining Joker's outfit choice for today. You glanced out the big window and down at the busy Gotham streets for a much-needed distraction. It was almost lunch time, and you were looking forward to leaving therapy today. You had a lot to think about.

"Y-Yeah I'm okay, I guess. I got a lot out today." You replied.

Harley nodded as she pulled up her schedule. She had you on a strict session plan, two times a week to get to the root of your trauma as quickly as possible. She scrolled through her open slots and spoke up.

"I agree, that was.. pretty intense. How about a little break, yeah? Instead of back-to-back sessions; how does next Monday and Thursday sound?"

Your schedule was free, so it didn't make a difference to you. Dr. Quinn penciled you in and waved goodbye as you left her office feeling numb.

Retelling such a dark period of your life on an empty stomach really wasn't the best idea you had.

The business park was still bustling with life for a Tuesday, but it was just background noise as you walked towards the curb. You took the subway here but now that your session was over, you honestly didn't feel like going back to an empty home.

Joker had declined in taking you to therapy, and he gave you a heads up that he'd probably be gone by the time you came back. It was still midday, and that tidbit gave you pause. J usually waited until the evening to start terrorizing the city.

Ever since the big L bomb three days ago, Joker had been acting.... normal.

Sunday morning was bliss, waking up in Joker's arms all safe and warm—and after a few stolen kisses and hushed greetings, he crawled out of bed to make you breakfast. It was as if nothing had ever happened. You finally got to spend a relaxing weekend with your lover.

In your mind, you pretended that this was the alternate ending after visiting Martha's Vineyard with J. No family dinners, no traitorous friends, and no nightmares from your horrid past. It was just you and Joker in the comfort of your apartment, that is until you received a reminder for therapy on Monday and today.

Then you had to venture out into the cruel world of Gotham. Joker was ever the gentleman (in training) and helped you shower and dress. He even kissed you goodbye at the door.

Well, more like he devoured your soul.

He backed you into the front door and kissed your lips, as if your oxygen was the only remaining supply in the world. And just when you thought you would lose consciousness, he pulled back and whispered a, "Have fun at therapy." before pushing you out the door.

Only when you stepped off the subway did you acknowledge the outfit Joker picked out for you. The man has a wicked sense of fashion.

Your frayed dress hugged your figure and the perfect pair of heels added height to your frame. Joker dressed down the distressed tattered look with a denim jacket and a handbag.

Never in a million years would you have put this outfit together. If your mind wasn't so fuzzy, perhaps you would've seen the many looks cast your way. People obviously liked what they saw.

You were blissfully unaware as your phone buzzed in your purse. You stepped off to the side and arched an eyebrow at the incoming text.

'I've been threatened to take u out to lunch or you know who will turn me into compost. Seems like an empty threat.. but I ain't taking no chances, where u at?'

You snorted at Morgana's natural lax attitude and replied.

She hearted your shared location and in less than fifteen minutes, she was there to pick you up. Her set of wheels, however, earned her a bombastic eye.

The purring engine turned a few heads and you gained some envious eyes when you walked up to the passenger door and hopped in.

You knew better and waited until your seatbelt was fastened to begin questioning the driver. "Either business is booming or you selling more than flowers."

Morgana just laughed and shifted the sports car back into drive, "Haha, I'm just test driving."

You eyed the personal effects scattered throughout the car. Morgana wasn't slick, this was someone's car.

"Uh huh... who is you giving pussy to?"

She maneuvered the car back into traffic without a word. It was obvious she had been driving the car a lot to be so at ease behind the wheel.

When she did respond it was jovial and filled with mirth. "Didn't you just leave therapy? Shouldn't we be talking about that and not me?"

"We can. After you explain why you're driving a Porsche." You noted.

Morgana shifted gears, "Again.... not mine."

You turned in your seat to look at her directly. She was every bit a successful businesswoman and today she really looked the part in her crisp power suit and stiletto heels.

Whenever Morgana dressed up, it meant it was meeting day with her partners. She wouldn't be touching any soil today and yet you managed to spot her dirty lie.

"Morgana, I know it's not yours. I'm asking which one of your flings gave you their car."

Her brown eyes flickered over towards you and she easily caught your knowing gaze.

She laughed as the light turned green. "Okay you got me, but I know you not judging, Miss. 'My boo thang robs Gotham Merchant Bank for fun.' How many cars does he gift you?"

You scrunched your nose at her choice of words, "Boo thang? Really? Joker doesn't buy me stuff."

"Yet." She fired back.

"What do you mean yet? Do you know something I don't?" Why did she sound so sure of herself? These days, it seemed like everyone else knew more about your life than you.

Morgana pulled into a parking spot at a local restaurant and removed her seatbelt. Her sunglasses quickly found a place on top of her head. Whatever she was about to say was going to be over the top, yet nothing but short of the truth.

"Girl. That man is down atrocious for you. I'll bet a week's earnings his love language is gift giving. I'd prepare myself if I were you."

She turned off the car as you replied, "You do know something!"

Morgana sucked her teeth and stepped out of the car. You looked on in disbelief as she strutted into the restaurant, laughing her head off. The two of you probably made quite the scene, with you yelling at her all the way inside, demanding answers.

By the time you caught up with your botanical friend, she was already at the hostess station securing a table.

They both eyed you when you grabbed Morgana by the arm. "Spill. Thine. Tea."

"R-Right this way." The hostess muttered at the same time as you. You pouted, knowing you would have to wait to get some answers.

The hostess guided the two of you to a table near a window overlooking the bustling city street. Surprisingly, Morgana was able to get a table during peak lunchtime rush. You liked the place for their fusion farm to table take on classics and Morgana loved their mixologist. It was a win-win while being relatively close to your psychologist's office.

Morgana sat her dainty clutch down within arms reach whereas you hung your handbag on the provided table hook.

Menus were opened, but you wanted to get straight to gossip. It felt like ages since you had time to goof around with a friend. Life's struggles had been hitting you left and right, you weren't able to get a moment's reprieve.

You weren't a drinker but you eyed the menu in passing. You more than deserved one.

Morgana removed her sunglasses and sat them top of her clutch. One look into your weary e/c eyes had her sighing.

"Phew child, aren't you tired from spilling your guts at therapy? You gotta be hungry or something. Eat so your man doesn't kill me. Like he needs a reason to, but it'll get him off my back for the day." Morgana shifted in her seat.

You furrowed your brows at her offhand comment.

Joker was not a people person, yet Morgana spoke as if she was on speaking terms with the dark clown.

"Is there something you're not telling me? About J, I mean." She tilted her head at your vague question, so you elaborated more. "I dunno, you two seem to be getting along?" Even you were confused with what you were asking.

It was still hard to grasp that someone knew your secret.

Morgana was the most mellow individual out of your friend group but still. She became a threat the moment she learned about you and Joker. You were dying to know what sort of miracle kept her alive.

You asked Joker not to hurt any of your friends and he promised— but since when did he listen to others?

Morgana was about to reply when the waiter came to the table and took orders while dropping off drinks. You thanked him and put in your food request after Morgana. Once he was clear from the area, she focused back on you.

"Calm down Y/n/n, nothing's going on. I am kinda friends with your man though. Hear me out!"

She laughed at your bewildered face. "It's not my proudest moment, trust me, but we... talked while you were, you know... out of it on Friday. We came to an agreement that keeps all parties involved happy. I won't lie, the man is emotionally draining, but he's that not bad once you get to know him."

She sipped on her drink as you proceeded to flip out even further. What sort of agreement could your Clown Prince of Crime agree to that didn't involve murder?

Joker really was turning a new leaf to remain in your life. You didn't expect him to compromise on anything. It made you question what else he would change all for the sake of your happiness.

But first you had to make sure you were hearing this correctly. "We are talking about the same J, right? Green hair? Penchant for killing people with knives? You're friends with that J?"

Morgana made an iffy noise, "Okay, friends is quite the stretch. We're more like coworkers who only tolerate each other on the clock. I promised your parents I would be there for you and let's be honest, Y/n. You need all the friends you can get right now. You're pushing everyone away to keep him in your life and that's not fair to anybody. We have to find common ground so that everyone can support you."

She reached across the table to grab ahold of your hands. "I'll do anything to remain your friend and he knows that. That clown takes the phrase; 'keep your friends close, your enemies closer' very seriously."

You looked confused at first, which caused Morgana to roll her dark eyes. Clearly you needed some help decoding.

"He assigned Mac to follow me around. Not like I'm complaining." She smacked her lips with a smug smile. You knew that look all too well from her.

"I thought you don't like white chocolate, Morgana." You mused. She stuttered and quickly backtracked.

"Listen, listen! I usually don't, but ya girl folded and fast! One minute I'm out shopping with Dr. Sarai, and the next, he's whispering in my ear 'n s__t all what he wants to do to me! He presented me an offer I couldn't refuse, and you know I love a good deal."

She fanned herself as you face palmed.

Morgana and her flirtatious, yet successful, business practices. But that wasn't the end of things. She pushed out a fake tear all for your amusement.

"Girl, I let a white man slut me out! I know my ancestors were shaking their head as I gave head. Lawd, I swear that man got me some type of way. It's like I'm going through dick withdraws or something!" Morgana joked.

Now that was something you could relate to. Joker had the same effect on you.... but you shook that thought from your head.

"J-Just... be careful, Gana. I don't want the same thing that happened with Flo and Neo to happen to you." You said.

She snapped out of her daydream, "Wait, what happened with them?"

"I honestly don't know. Flo still has me on silent treatment but Neo on the other hand— had the audacity to text me over the weekend asking if I knew any other hair braiders. You know what that means."

The both of you shared a look. "I feel like I'm the reason they broke up." You sighed softly.

She sat back in her chair, arms crossed. This was new information but in her opinion their fallout had nothing to do with you. She wished you would stop taking the blame for other people's actions.

For the time being, she'd focus on one thing at a time. "They were together? I thought they were just f__king." Morgana asked.

If only things were that simple then you wouldn't be mourning a broken friendship.

You shook your head, "You saw how she blew up at the dinner party. If Neo was just FWB, she wouldn't have popped off like that. I know Florence, they were serious."

Morgana had to wait to add in her two cents since the food arrived at the table. She ordered a protein salad and you settled for your favorite dish.

For a moment, the only sound at the table was the clinking of utensils against fine china. After a few bites, Morgana resumed the conversation with you.

"I'm assuming you haven't had time to process losing a friend on top of everything else."

You chewed in silence. Of course you didn't.

After Florence blew things out of proportion and ruined dinner, you were immediately coerced into a slumber party that spiraled out of control and set off an emotional episode. Then Joker came out of nowhere with his impromptu date and shocking confession.

It was just one thing after another and you did not have any time to recharge your social battery in between events. Your once calm and uneventful life had done a complete 180 ever since running into Joker. Sometimes you found yourself missing the boring old Y/n.

You were too old for all of this drama. On that note, you sighed out a reply.

"No, I haven't. I wish Florence was more open-minded like you. I can trust you not to run to the police and rat us out, but I can't expect the same courtesy with Flo. Ugh, J and I just started this relationship and its already on the verge of ruin."

"Pause! It's official?!" Morgana didn't think Joker would have the balls to confess, let alone for you to reciprocate his feelings with your past relationship being a conflict of interest.

She was one hundred percent invested in this tea and pushed her salad away to focus squarely on you.

"Jo—ahem, I mean..." You glanced around to ensure no one accidentally heard you almost say Joker's name.

You totally forgot that you were in public. The place was also crowded so you lowered your voice before continuing.

"J said he loves me, but I couldn't say it back because of... because of him. It's a miracle that J has feelings. I can't just ignore them! H-He needs me more than I need him. I just gotta find a way to get over these tainted emotions of mine. I heard the phrase misused so many times that I've desensitized myself to the meaning of it."

You pushed some leftover trimmings of food around the plate as Morgana looked on, in confusion. "You mean I love you?"

Your neck snapped up so fast it almost gave you whiplash.

Morgana said it so casually, you envied her. It was normal for her tongue to mold the words, and the meaning behind them was heard and felt; however, for you it set off alarms in your brain and she got to see the sheer horror overcome your features because of it.

For the longest, your mouth flopped open like a fish as you tried to repeat the phrase. It sounded like you were choking on air.

It physically pained you and tears of frustration dotted your lash line. Try as you might, you couldn't say it back.

Morgana watched on in pity. "What did he do to you?" She whispered. The he in question being your good for nothing ex.

Your parents went into heavy detail painting a picture to her, Barbara, Bruce, and Dick what all your ex did, but this went beyond physical abuse. Ty was clever at hiding the mental abuse as well. They never knew you were miserable for two years. No one did, not even you.

Even with all the lessons about spotting abuse and its warning signs, by the time you saw the manipulative person Ty truly was, it was too late.

You were still trying to say those three special words when Morgana wisely changed the subject.

"Anyway, why don't we do something relaxing. You done?" She pointed at your empty plate and you blinked down at it in disbelief.

You hardly remembered eating. Was your mind still that scatterbrained? You heard your name being called and focused your attention back on your friend.

"Got any plans after this, Y/n/n?" Morgana added with a smile. She flagged the waiter down for the bill while you thought it over. You silently thanked her for giving you time. There wasn't much that you wanted to do unfortunately.

"I don't want to go home. J said he wouldn't be there. Um, I guess are you up for some shopping? I want to get him a phone so we can finally communicate. The radio silence gets annoying when he leaves for the night."

You watched her frown while checking her own phone, so you quickly added, "Are you still tied up with meetings today? I-I can go home..."

Morgana waved off your concern, "Girl, I have time to shop. I'm just letting lover boy know our next move."

You crossed your arms with a smirk, "Yours or mine?" It wasn't quite clear.

Morgana's eyes flickered up from her phone towards you. There was a knowing look in her brown orbs before she resumed texting.

You wouldn't be getting any answers out of her. The check came, no surprise Morgana snatched it away before you could even think about paying, and the two of you left the restaurant to hit the city.

As you were walking towards the car, Morgana playfully slapped your arm.

"Hey which store you want to hit up first? I'm thinking something trendy. Ooh! What about that pop up on Conway St.?" She unlocked the car and the two of you got in.

You found it funny that she refused to admit her relations with Mac when it was obvious that he was all in. The man let her drive his very expensive car after knowing her for only a few days. You hoped Morgana knew what she was doing getting involved with the blond. It only spelled trouble if she and Mac didn't work out.

You had to stay out of people's business. Back to the matter at hand.

You remembered seeing a promo on social media about the new organic brand she was referring to. There were a few interesting pieces you could picture yourself wearing.

"The one that dyes their products with all natural ingredients? Yeah sure, we can go there. You mind if we hit up [insert phone carrier] store first?"

You weren't kidding about buying a phone for Joker. It was unacceptable to be out of contact with him given how close the two of you were. Quite honestly, you didn't care about the risk of being caught. Waiting for Joker to get a new burner phone—only to use it once, was getting rather old real fast.

You wanted to communicate like normal people. You were getting him a permanent number, end of discussion.

Which brought up a new topic as you buckled in. "Hey, do you think Mac could teach J how to work a smartphone?"

Morgana snorted as she cranked up the car. It purred to life like a lion lying in wait. "Y/n, I could get that man to file your taxes if you wanted me to. I got him wrapped around my finger."

You had no doubt she did. Unfortunately, that was the problem.

Going out shopping with Morgana was quite literally a breath of fresh air. It gave you time to unwind and be normal after the emotional roller-coaster your life had turned into. You couldn't thank her enough for the much-needed change of pace.

Immediately after arriving at the mall, you and Morgana locked eyes and started giggling.

FENDI, Chanel, (insert favorite store), it didn't matter. You would shop at them all. Time was on your side, and you had the money to spend. Retail therapy was real and evident by the numerous bags you and Morgana racked up in the four hours spent together.

A weight was lifted from your shoulders and there was a carefree smile plastered on your face as you shopped around.

Morgana patted herself on the back for a job well done.

She held up a deep chocolate colored silk dress for you to see. "Y/n/n! This has your name written all over it!" She rushed over and held the garment up to your front, already planning an outfit in her head.

"Yes. A sexy pair of heels, a mini bag, with your hair... mm. Up, I think? Yeah, up with that necklace you were eyeing at Tiffany's. That would be sickening."

Your eyes widened remembering which necklace she was referring to. "Morgana, that thing costs way too much!" There was no way you would ever buy it for yourself!

"But do you want it?" She replied with the same frantic tone. You eyed her as if she was smoking dick.

"N-Not that much!"

She tapped her heels on the floor. Why did you have to be so stubborn? Without a word, she unlocked her phone and shot off a message faster than The Flash himself. You scoffed but grabbed the hanger from her.

You glanced at the price tag. Now that was reasonable.

"I'll try this on but I'm not, I repeat, not getting that necklace to go with it." You sent her one last narrowed squint before finding an employee to point you towards the fitting room.

It was now or never. Morgana waited until you were out of earshot to dial a number. It rang for a bit until a familiar voice answered.

"Hey pretty Mama. And just what can I do for you?"

Morgana tried. Really, she did, not to blush at his suave voice caressing her ears. She failed miserably. "Ahem, is you with the boss man?"

Mac sighed (no doubt while rolling his crystal blue eyes) before answering, "Yeah, what of it?" He quipped.

"Well, I ain't no snitch but little miss, "I need to get out more" isn't cooperating with today's plans. Perhaps you can relay to him that his girl is reluctant to get whatever she wants?"

Now that made Mac sigh out in pure frustration. The plan was to get you out of the house and get your mind off things while the second half of your surprise was being prepared.

There was no limit to what you could do, and Joker asked—more like forced, Morgana to make sure his Light was happy. He was off finalizing tonight's plans, but everything was riding on Morgana not to screw up.

Case in question, she was supposed to make sure you wore a cute outfit for tonight.

Mac grumbled to himself, and Morgana heard a short, 'hold on' before he placed her on mute. Seconds turned into minutes, and she feared you would return from the fitting room before she got an answer from the clown.

Thankfully Mac came back with an ultimatum. "Where y'all at?"

"Why do you need to know? You didn't plant a tracking chip on me yet?" She joked. All she got was a soft snort.

"Location or next time I have you on your knees, I won't be as forgiving."

It was official. This man had her sprung. She chuckled deviously but relinquished her current location, however the phone call wasn't over. "I'll hold you to that, pretty boy."

She hung up before Mac could reply and just in time. You emerged from the fitting room with a pleased smile on your face.

"Well?" She stressed.

You fiddled with the garment in your hands. Although your answer wasn't verbal, you did in fact nod— confirming that you were buying the dress. You watched Morgana squeal in delight and you eyed her curiously because of it.

"Oh, don't give me that look! Now we gotta find you some heels and the perfect bag! C'mon there's no time to waste!"

In seconds, Morgana had you by the hand— ready to dress up her play doll, (poor poor you), to her bidding.

It took you a few stores and another hour, but you soon caught onto Morgana's plan.

She was slowly crafting an outfit for you, however since you didn't know the end result for it, you were forced to play along and find out the hard way.

The two of you circled back to Dior and purchased the mini bag you had previously eyed in passing. You doubted it could hold anything else besides your keys and ID, but you had to admit. It did match your growing ensemble. A simple pair of heels were found elsewhere to round off the look, but Morgana had ushered you back to the store that started this whole crusade.

You rolled your eyes at the iconic Tiffany blue glow greeting you. "I told you, Morgana. I'm not buying that necklace." You exasperated.

It was a little after five in the afternoon and you had just enough energy left to deal with her foolishness.

"Whatever. This is our last stop, I promise." She waited until you walked through the door to dash away. Her work here was done.

You walked into the store, quite shocked at how deserted it was. The place was notorious for being crowded— even so late in the day. You turned around to ask Morgana what was up but she was gone. In fact, from your viewpoint in the jewelry store, the surrounding area looked abandoned.

"Gana? Um.. hello?" This didn't feel right at all. You were seconds away from booking it when you felt a dark presence behind you.

"Why aren't ya buying the uh, pretty neck-lace, hm? Do ya prefer my hand more?"

All your fears washed down the drain at the sound of Joker's voice and you exhaled as his hand came up to massage your throat. His chest was like a furnace against your back, but it was frigid compared to the smoldering hot kiss he planted just below your ear.

"What. Did. I. Tell. You? Say the wooo~ooord and it's yours. Do you want it?"

Your eyes flickered shut as he gave a tentative squeeze to your neck. Not enough to cause you harm, yet just enough to make you pant in want. You forgot what you were craving and answered purely on instincts.

"Yes, y-yes I want it."

"Great!" Joker bellowed. The sudden shout made you jump and open your eyes, just in time for an obviously paid off employee to magically appear behind the way. She kept her gaze down even as she spoke to you.

"H-Hi! So you wish to buy the Tiffany Knot? It has a... erm.. matching bracelet i-if you want it."

You blinked in shock yet Joker wasn't fazed by your lack of response.

He just wrapped his arms around your waist, humming. "Do you want the match-ing bracelet, Bunny? I bet it'll look sooooooo pretty on you."

The both of you knew that was the last thing on your mind.

Joker nodded to the attendant who scrambled to find the matching set and get it boxed up. Besides her frantic shuffling and the sound of your erratic heart, not much else was heard. Joker smirked to himself witnessing your timid, bunny-like behavior being front and center. He always thought it was adorable.

He spun you around so that you faced him. "What's on your mind, Bunny?" You were biting your lower lip raw. He tapped it free much to your embarrassment.

Joker knew your little quirks like the back of his hand. Nothing got past Joker. You glanced up at him through your lashes.

Joker opted out on wearing a facial covering and stood before you as true his daunting self. His purple cloak was a stark contrast underneath the bright lights at Tiffany's, and you noticed that his clown makeup was freshly done. You could only imagine how many strings he pulled in order to sneak in here. He was being reckless for absolutely no reason, purely because he could.

Then you realized you fell right into Morgana's plan. She planned for you to end up here waiting for J. And of course, she magically disappeared. The next time you saw the florist... You shook your head but J didn't like that.

He turned your head back with a click of his tongue. "Aww, now you don't wanna look at me? I haven't seen ya since this morning!" His neon green eyes were laser focused on your lips. "Would you believe me if I said I missed you?" He purred in your ear.

You could, one hundred percent, but that was beside the point. This man had no sense of secrecy! And that fact helped you get your bearings straight. You tried pushing him away but that was a pointless endeavor. Joker wasn't budging.

"J-Joker. What are you doing here?! Someone could... omg. Do you even care about hiding anymore?!"

He didn't say anything but dropped his gaze down to the lighthouse necklace resting proudly on your heaving chest. You had yet to take it off since he placed it on you Friday night. He almost didn't want to buy this new necklace, for it would temporarily replace his claim on you. Decisions, decisions...

You waved your hand in J's face to get his attention, "J.... are you listening to me?" His gaze slid up to yours in record time.

"Always. Annnnnnnd noPe." He spotted the plethora of shopping bags near your feet and nodded at them, "I hope that's your uh, outfit for tonight."

Not like you needed to change; you looked stunning in the ensemble he helped you into this morning, but he had this sudden urge to buy you the world. It was all in the hopes to lift your spirits. If only you would cooperate, hence the reason why he was here in the first place. He didn't want to coddle or force you into something you didn't want, however you needed a gentle reminder that you were worth the fuss.

"T-Tonight? You're. I.. we? UGH! What part of wanted fugitive are you not grasping? You can't be seen in public or the GCPD, or God forbid, Batman will come and take you away from me!"

Joker honed in on your words like a bloodhound. You and your separation anxiety was rearing its ugly head and that just would not do.

"Hey. Don't you worry your pretty little head, doll. No one will take me away from my Light. If I wanna take my girl out, I will. Under-stannnd?"

You wanted to stomp your foot and protest, but Joker's unnatural green eyes sucked you into a world where his words were absolute. The writer in you knew this was a bad idea. Nothing good ever came from the villain flaunting their freedom, but since when did Joker care about anything?

He can and would do anything he pleased. You saw the crazy and impossible stunts he pulled over the years. Joker was an unstoppable force. So much to your dismay, you caved with a meek nod.

However, that wasn't good enough in Joker's book. He wanted to hear your beautiful voice.

"Huh? I didn't hear you, sweethearT." He tilted your chin up with his finger.

"I-I um.. Sure I guess, yeah. Wait, your girl!?!?!"

Joker rolled his eyes at your delayed reaction to his words. He quickly noticed the sales lady creeping back towards the counter with a signature Tiffany gift box containing his purchases. It had a crisp white bow on top. A shame it was going to be ruined very soon.

Joker waved off the petrified woman and focused his attention back on his precious goddess. You were still rebooting and didn't quite hear Joker's next request until he began tugging at your denim jacket.

"Well. Since we're already to-get-her, why don'tcha get dressed so we can gooo?"

You just blinked in confusion, "Huh?"

J sighed and made a show of rubbing the bridge of his nose. Remarkably, the high-quality makeup stayed in place. It was by far an upgrade from his usual (and unreliable) greasepaint.

Joker hated repeating himself but being with you turned him into a tape recorder. Although he loved your adorable quirks, oftentimes they were misplaced in situations like this.

"Change into your new dress, Bunny."

Oh so you did hear him correctly. It was still a bizarre request the second time you heard it. You were not stripping in the middle of a jewelry store!

"J.... we are in public. I don't care how you mysteriously evacuated all the people that were shopping here, you must be out of your mind if you think I'm going to—"

You stopped mid-sentence to watch Joker bend down and riffle through your bags. "What are you doing?"

He opened the Nordstrom bag first and whistled at the dark silk that flowed through his fingers. He then bit his lip while eyeing you up and down, and he didn't stop there. One after another, Joker opened all of your bags until he got to the cellular store one. Then all was silent in the store.

You tried to snatch it out of Joker's hands but he was much taller than you and simply held it out of your reach. "Why did you buy a phone?" He asked.

It was supposed to be a surprise, so you told him exactly that.

"For me?" He lowered the product box so you could grab it from him.

"Y-Yeah. I got you a phone– under a false name of course– so we can communicate better. I can call, video chat, and text you now. All unlimited!" You popped the box open and fished out the device for Joker to take. "You do know how to use a smartphone right?"

You distinctly remembered his wonder at shower gel and their various scent options long ago. What if he didn't know about smartphones?

Much to your relief, Joker rolled his eyes and held down the power button until it lit up with the phone carrier logo. "I"m not thaT old, Bunny." He joked.

You knew it was all in jest, but it made you wonder. It was just you and Joker around, at least for the most part. Would he even indulge your curiosity? It wouldn't hurt to try.

In the past, Joker always got defense whenever you asked him personal questions, so your voice wavered asking him now. "Um.. then h-how old are you?"

His immediate response spooked you. "Uhhh. I dunno. I ah don't keep tracK.. of that stuff anymore."

Here was a literal man child standing before you in the iconic Tiffany & Co. store confessing that he didn't know how old he was. It was such a bizarre notion that your brain couldn't wrap itself around it.

Just how desensitized was Joker to life? This revelation became another mark on the 'J might not be human' tally board. You feared things would never make sense with him.

Apparently, Joker was great with smartphones if his paint-stained fingers dancing across the interface was any indication. In record time, Joker had finished the initial setup and caught you by surprised when he pocketed his new phone as if nothing was wrong.

"Joker.. have you forgotten how old you are?" You asked.

He didn't see the point in this and snatched the Tiffany box off the counter to rip it open. With all the elements of your outfit out and waiting, he was ready for you to stop stalling and get dressed. Why couldn't you follow instructions? That had to be your biggest flaw.

He decided to entertain your question as a distraction. "Nope." J popped the letter P and dropped to knees to start untying your heel straps. "Does it matter?" He added.

You let him do whatever as you argued back. "Uh yeah! It's a part of your identity, Joker!" You hobbled a bit as Joker removed your heels and replaced them with your new ones. "It's what makes us human."

"Hehe, I lost both a loooooong time ago, sweetheart. It's ahh.. no big deal."

You refused to believe that. A person couldn't lose their age. Deep down, no matter how hard a person tried to forget, their core principles remained. Joker might have forsaken whomever he was before all of this joker stuff, but he was still the same person. You wanted to know more about him in his past life.

"Do you remember anything about yourself? Before... um."

You heard Joker sigh. He glanced up at you with his eyebrows arched. You thought you went too far and an apology was on the tip of your tongue, but Joker startled you by hiking up your dress, all the way up to your hips.

"ACK! Joker! I said, we're in public!!" You seized his hands near your waist and sent him a frenzied look before scoping out your surroundings.

The place was still eerily empty.

"There's no one here, Bunny. I'm the only one allowed to see you." He watched you scoff and so with nothing to lose; he gave you a bargaining chip. "Wanna know some uh s-some more? About me I mean?"

Your head whipped around to witness Joker stutter and bashfully looking away. It was a rare sight to see The Joker nervous. It meant he was dead serious. You would not allow this miracle to slip you by.

"Yeah." Your voice cracked so you tried again. "Yes, I wanna know more about you, J. About who you are, w-what made you the man you are today. Any hardships you want to share or none at all. I don't care, I just want to know you."

Joker's hands fell from your hips as he stepped back. You noticed the pensive look on his face so you wisely gave him time to think.

You were asking a lot from him and sharing anything about himself was a huge step into the no no territory that he set up for safety. Of course, he remembered how old he was. He remembered small details from his childhood like the phantom dreams they were. That was an old version of himself that he killed a long time ago. Digging those memories back up would take a lot.

He destroyed that person to become The Joker. Somethings were best left in the past and yet his Light was asking for a glimpse into his. As much as it would pain him, you were worth the hassle, but he would do things on his terms.

"Fine. I'll share only if you get dressed for my lit-tle surprise. Dealll?"

You walked right into that loophole. It was evident that Joker wasn't comfortable in sharing but (once again) he was meeting you in the middle in order to make you happy. Compromising with the clown turned out to be very easy and you looked forward to other future instances.

You could agree to his terms, so you raised your arms. "Deal. Can you help me?"

Your current dress was form fitting and you knew it would require a two-man job to remove. You focused on Joker's twin pools of jade as he approached you again and your gaze remained locked with his, right until your dress blocked your vision.

Joker's presence took your mind off the fact that you were stripping in the middle of a jewelry store. Whenever his hands were on you, you were caught in his spell and nothing else mattered.

You couldn't explain the amount of trust you had with Joker. Perhaps it was a blind faith spurred on by your desperation or maybe you were just that stupid. Regardless, you felt safe with J.

You stood in your bra and panties until Joker placed the cool silk gown over your form. He arched an eyebrow before his dexterous fingers unclasped your bra without looking. It made you flinch and he apologized by sliding the straps of the dress into place—and sealed it there with a kiss.

When you turned for him to zip up the dress, he hummed in intrigue. "That's a ahhh harsh panty line don't cha think?"

His words made you look down and sure enough, you could see the outline of your underwear through the rich silk. Not a good look. You and Morgana failed to shop at any lingerie boutiques.

You doubted J would let you go home and change, he was rushing you as is. There wasn't any more options to choose from.

Joker didn't think you would do it. You were too bashful in nature. His eyes widened as you shimmied out of your panties and offered them to him with shaky hands.

They hung from your finger before Joker snapped back into focus. Just when he thought he couldn't love you more. You were truly something else.

"Thank you, Princess." As always, that particular nickname made you flush a deep maroon.

He pocketed them in his coat pocket for safe keeping and reached around to grab your jewelry for the night. This was the part that Joker was avoiding.

Not a word was spoken as you undid your necklace and handed it over to Joker. The diamond in the lighthouse sparkled as he pulled out the original box and placed it inside. You were touched by the care he displayed your necklace. It felt strange not wearing it, even if you only had it for a few days. In the short amount of time, you had gotten used to its presence.

You pulled your hair back for Joker to clasp the new necklace on. The twin bracelet soon followed and just like that you were all dolled up for your mystery outing.

Your heart was beating wild. "Does my hair look okay?" You fluffed it back into the wild curly strands that framed your face.

Morgana suggested wearing it up but that was before Joker came and coerced you into getting ready on the spot. You had absolutely no idea how you looked right now.

Your mind was immediately flooded with the thought of the store's CCTV cameras and passersby watching this intimate scene unfold. What was Joker thinking when he suggested this? Your hair must've been more than okay if the way Joker was licking his lips meant anything.

If anyone else did that, it would've came off creepy yet somehow, he made it endearing. Joker's actions always spoke louder than any words he could string together.

He was unwrapping your mini bag for you when your curiosity knew no limit. "Um.. Where are you taking me?"

"Aht aht ahtttttt. You see. If I tell you that, then it won't be a surprise, Y/n. You look... well." He drank in the sight of you as he handed you the white handbag. "I'm a lucky guy."

His brute honesty made you drop your head and knowing how he felt about you made his words hit that much harder. Joker loved you. You still couldn't believe it.

"Now! Uh... here's what's gonna happen, doll. Don't worry about your stuff. I need yoooou to walk outta here and sit that sexy little behind of yours in the car outside. The one by. The. Curb. Then, I need ya to wait for me. Can ya do that?"

It sounded simple enough. There had to be more. "And then what?"

Oh how he loved his curious little Bunny.

Joker dragged you close so he could brush his lips against yours. He felt your breath catch at the proximity. You looked every bit a goddess and tonight he hoped to show you just how far he would go to be your everything.

You needed to relax and free your mind of all the stresses and cares that weighed it down. Joker wanted you to forget about therapy, your abusive ex and the uncertainty of a new lover— he just wanted you to focus on being the Y/n that he loved.

He was grateful you didn't jump when he kissed you, "Then.. I'm gonna treat my girl to a night she'll neverrrr forget."

48 notes · View notes

skelly-words · 1 year ago

Text

In My Mouth

(NSFW Beel x Reader)

MDNI 18+ only

I posted this shit on AO3 forever ago and totally forgot to put it anywhere else. Also I don't have my computer because I'm traveling so the format is gonna be shit until I remember to fix it when I get back. Anyways...

Tags: oral sex, vaginal sex (reader has a cooch), fingering, overall just filth, there's no plot, very slight degradation, oral fixation, marking, breeding, unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it plz)

Synopsis: I'm really high so this is gonna be incoherent, but it's just smut. The title is the song I was listening to while I wrote it. Basically Lucifer locks the fridge so Beel comes to see if you have any snacks stashed in your room.

Wc: 4.5k

It’s getting late, so you’re already all tucked in bed with a book. You can hear the footsteps of Lucifer doing his rounds around the estate to ensure everyone is in their rooms.

You’ve been hot and bothered all day, but know better than to start anything until Lucifer goes to bed for the night. You’d been equally mortified and cautious since the time he’d caught you reading porn with a hand down your pants a month into your stay (not that your current reading material is any better). He’d been judgemental and disapproving at the time. But after growing closer, he teased you about it incessantly.

In the distance, you can hear the soft creak of his door, finishing his rounds and going into his bedroom. You keep reading, but your unoccupied hand slowly creeps down the front of your sleep shorts. You gently tease yourself through the fabric. It’s a tentative and light touch, just enough to begin entertaining yourself. The pads of your fingers gently slip over the seam in the shorts and drag along the hem.

Your fingertips gently circle your clit through the layers of fabric. The stimulation is barely there and you can feel yourself growing warm beneath the sheets. The shorts are loose, and you slowly become impatient as the words of the book blur together and your breath quickens. You slide your finger beneath the hem for more relief, pressing against your clit with more urgency. The touch is still light, but the burn of arousal is more steady and insistent. You push your underwear to the side and drag your middle finger up your slit, dragging your arousal up to your clit. The skin-on-skin contact is almost too much, so you ease gently into the feeling. You roll your finger with the subtle throb of your heartbeat. When you’re ready, the finger eases lower, slipping over your hole a few times before gently pushing in. You don’t moan or gasp, only letting out a raspy breath as you feel the digit sink further into you.

You’re only down to the second knuckle when you’re interrupted by a knock at the door. You groan at that, hurriedly wiping the finger in your sheets as you sit up in bed, determined to end this conversation quickly.

“Come in.”

Beelzebub lazily pushes open the door. He slumps against the doorframe. A hand drags down his tired face. “Lucifer locked the fridge.”

You almost turn him away, and probably would have if it had been anybody else. But Beelzebub is the closest to you, and he would do the same, so you sigh and motion him inside with your decidedly unclean hand.

Your legs swing off the side of your bed and you sit slouched over next to your pillows.

“I think I might have some snacks stashed around here somewhere.” You pat the edge of your bed. “Sit.”

You set your book on your nightstand, slipping a scrap of paper between the pages to mark your place. In the drawer of your nightstand, a half-eaten pack of Oreos is halfway stale.

“You can eat these.” The cookies land unceremoniously on your sheets. Beelzebub immediately grabs the container, barely bothering to chew the Oreos. They’re gone in less than a minute. The redhead looks at you expectantly.

“Do you have anything else for me?”

You shake your head, no. “That's all I had.”

“No, it’s fine. I don’t care about the food. “ His hand overlaps with yours, pinning the digits. You internally cringe at where those fingers were minutes ago. His voice drops to a low whisper, as if ashamed of what he’s about to say. “I wanna put you in my mouth.”

“What?” Your voice comes out too breathy, fanning over Beelzebub’s face as he inches closer.

“I want to put you in my mouth.” He picks up your hand from the bed, pressing his lips to your fingers. “All of you.” He kisses your hand, wet and open-mouthed as his teeth ghost over your knuckles. He stops to look up at you with a soft smile on the corners of his mouth. He must smell you on your fingers.

“Beel-” You’re cut off with a sigh as he takes your middle finger into his mouth. His cheeks hollow around it, stamping your fingerprint onto his tongue.

“Sweet,” he notes, staring at your hand thoughtfully. “I’ll never get enough of this.”

“I-” Your voice comes out shakier than you expected, “I want to be sure you’re not literally going to eat me.”

He shakes his head. “I wouldn’t be able to get seconds.”

Beelzebub places a kiss on the inside of your wrist. He licks a small stripe up your forearm, biting lightly at the skin. He slips from the bed, knees hitting the floor as he settles at your feet.

“Is this alright?” Beel pushes your knees apart, gently. He’s not met with any resistance, so he moves closer. His hands roam the expanse of your waist and squeeze at the flesh to watch it give beneath his fingers. He looks up to watch you nod. “I’m gonna need to hear you say it.”

The tips of his fingers lift the hem of your shirt. They dance around your sides. Beelzebub's hands press flat against your back. He holds you firmly, pulling you close. His voice is muffled, face buried in your stomach like he wants to lose himself in your body. “Unless you want me to stop?”

Your skin flushes under the contact, face heating and spreading downward– to your pounding chest, stuttering breath, to where he’s pressing his lips to your skin with enough urgency for you to find your voice. “Please don’t.”

Beelzebub stills, resting heavily on your thighs as he tilts his head to look at you. “Please don’t?”

“Please don’t stop.”

He groans and presses a kiss above your belly button. His next kiss is deeper, leaving the shine of his spit in its wake. Beelzebub works his way towards your side until he’s leaving shallow pecks in the crease of your thigh. The obnoxious folds of your shorts are in the way. His fingers slip from your back to dip beneath your waistband. He plays with the give of the elastic, testing how far from your waist he can pull it before it’s taught and watching your reaction when it snaps back.

You jump slightly at the feeling. It doesn’t sting, but the insinuation brings attention to the flutter of arousal in your gut. Your weight shifts back, onto your wrists as your hips unconsciously cant forward.

“Lift your hips for me, sugar.” Beelzebub’s lips tickle as he mumbles against your skin. You shift your weight further back raising your hips off the duvet. Beel drags the waistband down to reveal the soft skin of your thighs. Warmth blossoms on your skin as he mouths at the inside of your thigh, tasting each new inch of skin. His palms skim over your calves as he tugs the shorts off completely and discards them on the floor. “Cute.”

Beelzebub flicks at the pink bow on the waistband of your underwear.

You flush deeper with embarrassment. Your underwear is a soft pink made from comfortable cotton. Cute is the perfect word to describe them.

“Don’t be embarrassed. It’s a compliment.” He tilts his head to the side, resting it on the inside of your thigh. How he noticed the difference in your blush is a mystery, but the look he gives you now is knowing and amused. “Don’t get shy over compliments. I’ll have to give you more of them if they make you look like this. It’s cute.”

You turn your head into your shoulder in an attempt at hiding from the attention.

Belzebub leans forward to run his nose up the crease of your underwear. He bumps lightly at your clit through the fabric and follows the motion with his tongue.

Your lips part, opening just enough to let your heavy breath spill from your open mouth. The amount of slick coming out of you is embarrassing. Everything about this is embarrassing and you wonder if that’s part of the reason you’re so turned on. Then you’re stuck trying not to feel humiliated over that.

This time with more insistence, Beel tongues at your underwear. A mix of saliva and slick soaks the front of the fabric as you continue to pass your moans as heavy breathing. You feel as the wet cotton bunches together at the seam and buries itself into your slit.

Beelzebub stops. Part of you wants to continue hiding in your shoulder, but the hornier part of you wants to glance down just to see him nestled between your legs. Your clit throbs at the thought and you decide not to chance it. If even the fantasy elicits that reaction, it’s safer to stay turned away.

The hands on your thighs dip lower, scooping beneath your legs and lifting to rest on your hips. Fingers trail to the sides of your underwear, tugging them higher. Your hips unconsciously cant forward at the stimulation to your clit. You gasp, soft and breathy. That’s the last of your dignity, so there’s no harm in looking down. The first thing you see is Beelzebub’s smile.

He grins up at you, looking pleased with himself. Beel pulls the underwear up higher. Your spit-soaked underwear slides against you. It’s dirty to get off on something like this, but you can feel your heart beating faster as blood rushes to your clit.

“Fuck,” you groan. The stimulation from the cotton is rough and sloppy, but that doesn’t stop you from sounding desperate as you rock forward for more. You try to keep the movement in your hips soft and subtle, just enough to take the edge off, but you can’t hide it when Beel’s eye level with your cunt.

Beelzebub nods softly in approval and leans back in to kiss your thighs. His hands rock gently, moving in time with your hips. The kisses on your thighs are insistent. They quickly turn to bites when he sucks the skin between his teeth. The marks left behind are violent and carmine, and send your head spinning. You hope they last, turning bluer with the morning. Beel continues trailing the hickeys into vague constellations in your skin. He seems to map out your blood vessels as he follows your pulse upward from your knee.

The gentle rocking of his hands becomes more demanding, fingers digging into your sides as his thumbs pull at your waistband. Everywhere Beelzebub touches, he leaves a piece of himself behind. Fingerprints on your hips, the shine of spit on your stomach, and hickeys on your thighs.

You need to cum. The seam of the underwear is too clumsy and indirect to get you over your peak. You’re almost there, bucking with the rise in Beel’s hands in an attempt to get the stimulation you need to finish. It’s almost driving you insane, barely feeling the nip of pain as he continues to mark your thighs.

“I’m s-so close.” You stutter at a particularly harsh brush of the cotton.

“I can see that.” Beelzebub watches your clit throb beneath the fabric. He can smell how close you are; he can almost taste it.

He licks up the strip of fabric, letting his tongue press the seam further into the folds of your pussy. His lips latch around your clit, sucking lightly at the bud.

Your hips settle into a gentle grind against his mouth, stuttering with the direct stimulation.

“I’m gonna-” You’re cut off when Beelzebub tugs gently at your underwear. “I’m gonna fucking cum.”

He moans in response. The hands on your hips pull your underwear downward. Beel’s forced to part with you momentarily as the garment is slipped down your legs. He takes the opportunity to taste you fully on his tongue. The muscle is exploratory in the way it licks at you, decidedly landing back on your clit. The arms propping you up flex behind you and slip along the duvet until you land on your back. You gasp softly, feeling him for the first time with nothing in the way.

Your orgasm is gentle, catching your breathy moans in your throat. You see nothing but the rise and fall of your chest as you cum.

As soon as he feels the first wave of your orgasm, Beelzebub pulls away to watch you. He looks at the way you twitch, contracting helplessly around nothing as your hands tighten into fists on the bed. The lack of follow-through leaves your climax short. He goes back to leaving light kisses on your thighs as he lets you come down from your stunted high.

Beelzebub can feel your pulse on your thighs when he bites a little too deep and tastes it in his mouth. Once it slows down, approaching a normal pace, his mouth returns to the apex of your legs. He’s methodical with the way he eats at you. As if only a meal isn’t enough, he needs to savor it. Every movement of his tongue feels practiced. A dance that lights your nerves in a way made specifically for you.

Open-mouth kisses are pressed against your hole, replacing the slick with saliva. Your breath stutters as Beel’s tongue dips inside of you, taking all you’ll give him. Your fists tighten in your bedspread as he purposefully nudges his nose against your clit. You’re still sensitive from your first orgasm and shudder at the stimulation.

His ministrations are precise, just gentle enough not to be painful. He keeps his tongue flat against your entrance, laving attention up your cunt and barely flicking at your clit. This climax builds quicker than before, but still not as rushed as you’d like it to be. When he notices your breath quicken and fists tighten, he slows. It’s as if Beelzebub doesn’t care if you climax, that’s simply a byproduct of him enjoying you fully. The taste of your skin, sweat, and cum is on his tongue. He flattens the muscle, letting you grind against him.

Small moans spill from your mouth as your hips cant forward. Your palms are sweaty from being balled so tightly, and you spread your hands to grasp at the bedspread. The ceiling seems further than before as your eyes cross and unfocus with pleasure. It’s almost scripture when you beg. “Please, Beel. Please just a little more.”

His tongue dips downward, finally giving something for your needy cunt to clench down on. The tip of his nose nuzzles into your clit as he buries his tongue inside of you.

The grip on your hips is firmer, holding you down with an authority you don’t want to fight against. It’s unlikely you could even lift your hips if you tried. You can feel yourself stretch around his tongue. It pushes further than a human tongue could go. You groan, legs slipping to catch around his shoulder. Your ankles lock between his shoulder blades, pressing him closer without straining against his hands.

Your moans are breathy and light, still fighting against the sound of it. You don’t want the whole house to hear you. It would be impossible to look any of the brothers in the eye for weeks, and you’d die of embarrassment if Lucifer caught you again. But it’s hard to keep your sounds back as Beel fucks his tongue into you, seeing how far inside he can taste. His arms keep your hips propped up at just the angle he wants, keeping your lower back lifted into the faintest arch with just his hands.

As you stare blankly up at the ceiling, you faintly think that the bed beneath your ass must be wet. Your eyes slip in and out of focus as you lose yourself in the vulgar sound of Beel eating you out. It’s like he’s been starved, making sure none of your slick goes to waste, and leaving spit running down your skin as he drools on your cunt.

“Fuck,” you rasp, the duvet twists harshly in your hands. “I’m gonna-”

“Gonna what, baby?” Beelzebub mumbles against you lazily. His tongue, suddenly back in his mouth. The flutter of his lips is on your clit as he speaks, keeping you teetering dangerously off the edge of your climax. “Do it on my tongue, yeah?”

The hands on your hips loosen, tapping lightly up your sides before falling to rest over your fingers. Your hands flip palm up, grabbing at his wrist from the awkward, upside-down angle.

“Now you can move all you want,” Beel whispers. He dips his head downward, letting his tongue slip back inside of you.

You can move freely, grinding against his nose as your ankle urges him closer. The air is heavy, almost humid, and your mouth hangs open as you uselessly pant. You slide easily against him, feeling his heartbeat quicken in your palms as you spill over the edge.

Your thighs tighten around Beel’s neck. A couple of involuntary stutters of your hips leave you cumming on his tongue. Your back arches off the bed as you ride the orgasm out on his face. The sounds leaving your mouth are distant to you beneath your thundering pulse.

Beel doesn’t seem to care if you're being loud as he leaves a final parting kiss to your soaked pussy. He stands, dragging his lips up your body. The hem of your shirt comes with him, slipping the clothing over your head to leave you bare beneath him. He practically licks the breath from your mouth as they spill out in syrupy gasps.

You realize that he’s still completely dressed.

“Can you take this off?” You lift your right hand away from Beel to tug at his T-shirt.

“Not yet.” He pulls your hand away from the fabric and intertwines your fingers with his. The backs of your knuckles are gently pressed into the bed beside your head as he leans upwards.

Beelzebub’s other hand drifts downward until he’s nestled between your thighs. His finger dips to collect the wetness gathered along your slit. The digit presses forwards, brushing along your clit. He’s more hesitant with his fingers. The brushes remains light and almost uncertain until Beel feels you bucking into it.

You groan when his finger slides downwards. There’s a desire to be filled that’s been stirring inside you since you lost the feeling of his tongue. Your cunt clenches down as he gently circles the digit around your entrance.

“Please, just-”

He cuts you off with a kiss, snatching your attention away from where his hand is. You’re staring directly into his eyes as two of his fingers sink into you. You moan breathily into his mouth, finally having something to stretch you out.

Your hand tightens around Beelzebub’s. If your nails are digging into the back of his hand he doesn’t show it on his face, and you’re too gone on the feeling of his fingers to notice.

“I need you,” you say. The pitch of your voice is disgustingly whiny as he drags his fingers in and out of your needy hole.

“Sugar, you have me.” Beel kisses you like he eats pussy. He’s gentle, but only momentarily. His tongue can’t stay behind his teeth forever, and the way he licks into your mouth is almost overwhelming. You can’t breathe beneath his kiss.

He breaks away, giving you space to moan when he curls his fingers. Just barely brushing that hard-to-find spot. You tighten around him as if to keep him there, but you’re impossibly wet. You can’t tell if it’s even all you with the way saliva was dripping out of his mouth. Your jaw goes slack as the pads of his fingers drag out of you, staying at a soft angle the whole time.

“No, I want your…” you trail off as Beelzebub’s fingers sink back into you.

He cranes his neck to whisper into your ear. “This dirty bitch wants my dick.” The heel of his palm rubs against your clit as he clicks his tongue in disapproval. “And you didn’t even say please.”

You shy away from the stimulation. The fingers inside you feel good, but your clit is too sensitive. “Please,” you comply, “I need you to be closer.”

Beel’s fingers still at that, slipping out of you to fumble with the drawstring of his sweats.

He’s looking down, so you mumble drunkenly into his hair, “I want you inside.”

It’s difficult to do with only one hand, but he manages to shove his pants and boxers down to his knees. You giggle as he struggles to step out of them, kicking the offensive articles of clothing across the room. His erection bobs against his abdomen. Precum paints watery marks against the dark fabric of his shirt. He looks painfully hard. The tip of his dick is flushed to a pretty pink rivaling the blush on his face.

Beel lets go of your hand for a moment to lift his shirt over his head. Your breath becomes heavier as you drink in the toned lines of his torso. Your hands are immediately on him as he leans back over you, wanting to trace every freckle and mole on the taught skin.

He looks at you nervously, trying to read your expression as he lines himself up with your entrance. “I know I’m big.” He almost sounds guilty of something. “So tell me if I need to go slower.”

His length is already impressive, but the girth is more intimidating. The head of his cock is already a stretch, despite the thorough prep. Beel distracts you with light kisses across your cheeks and hickeys on your neck, keeping his promise of going slow. You feel the veins on every inch of him as he eases in, gently rocking in and out of you and going a little further each time.

Your hand comes up to cup his face to your collarbone, fingertips wandering into his hair. The marks he leaves travel across your chest too. Your skin is sticky with sweat and spit, but it’s still not enough to pull your attention from wear he’s shallowly fucking into you. The tip of his cock barely kisses your cervix; his hips are not yet flush with yours. It’s a few more slow thrusts before he’s fully sheathed inside of you.

Beelzebub rolls his hips against you experimentally, barely pulling out. He adjusts his angle, shifting where he hits until he finds the spot that makes you moan the most. Holding back your sounds proves to be a losing battle as he perfects his movements. Beel barely drags his cock out of you, slow enough for you to miss every centimeter. The snap back into you is rough but precise enough to knock the breath out of you in a harsh gasp.

You lift his chin up, away from your chest, to kiss him. You try to keep it sweet, but it’s impossible with the way Beel’s tongue twists with yours. At least it muffles your groans. The only sound is the squelch of his cock fucking the pre out of you.

“This close enough for you?” Beel grunts into your mouth.

You shake your head, no, and lock your ankles around his back. Your legs keep him close. He can barely pull out of you. Your lips find his and you lick greedily into his mouth, tasting the pussy off his lips.

Your legs tighten around him every time he pushes into you until he can do nothing but rut against you, pelvis grinding into your clit. It’s animalistic, hitting a spot inside you that makes you break the kiss.

“Right there,” you breathe out. Your head drops into the crook of Beel’s shoulder. You take the skin between your teeth to muffle yourself, trying to force your legs to relax.

“Fuck your tight.” His breath is hot, leaving steam to mingle with the perspiration on your shoulder. Your cunt contracts around him as he groans more praise. “So good, sugar, taking me so well.”

“If you keep going I’m gonna-”

“Not yet.” He draws out of you a little further, trying to get himself to meet you at your peak. “Just a little longer.”

You nod. “Together.”

Your mouth kisses at his neck, keeping your attention away from the twist in your stomach. He’s purposefully missing your G-spot, keeping you from cumming until he’s ready. It still tortures you all the same, making whine beneath him as he drives into you. It’s as if he’s using you for his own pleasure now, chasing his high. And God that makes you wet. The look on his face is angelic, eyes glazed over, ragged breaths coming from his split lips, and eyebrows arching higher with every flutter of your cunt.

You try to stay clenched down around him. Some twitches of his hips catch deep inside of you, making your muscles waver and grasp at his back. Your fingers dig into the muscles of his back, leaving behind marks as payback for his fingerprints on your hips.

Beelzebub’s thrusts are finally stuttering. He falls into a pattern of rutting against you. His breath becomes more strangled and stretched in his throat.

“Can I finish inside?” he asks.

“I’m not on-”

“Not what I asked.”

“Yeah.” Your legs hike further up his back, forcing him to hit at your favorite angle.

“Shit.” Beel’s hands slip beneath you, pulling your torso flush with him as he cums.

You can feel it as he spills inside of you, sticky and warm. He grinds his dick into you, pressing his hips to your clit as he fucks the spunk further into you. His moans are breathy and satisfied, working through the sensitivity to get you off. The hand on your upper back slips to the back of your head to pull you away from his shoulder.

“I wanna hear you cum on my dick, baby.”

You can’t reply, too gone in the way he feels inside you, fucking you dumb. The bedspread sticks to your back as you arch away from the mattress with your third orgasm. Spit collects in the corner of your mouth as you scream silently at the ceiling. You quickly devolve into sloppy murmurs of his name as Beelzebub fully eases you through it. His body stays pressed close to yours. You can feel him shiver against you from the overstimulation.

His entire weight collapses onto you, not even bothering to pull out yet. Your hands lift to tangle in the hair at the nape of his neck. You can barely breathe under Beel’s weight, but it’s worth it to feel his stuttering chest as he recovers.

“So, how many?” he asks smugly.

A/N: I've never written smut before so nice comments and constructive criticism are definitely welcome.

#obey me #obey me smut #obey me beelzebub #beelzebub x mc #beelzebub smut #beelzebub x reader #obey me x reader

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commanderquinn · 1 year ago

Text

Good Space Chapter 1: Flower

! i dont! keep these posts! updated! like i do! ao3!

that means you're going to find typos and shit (and possibly minor detail changes) that don't match the ao3 version! that's because im not going to bother fixing the tumblr posts until i finish good space as a whole. im only uploading them here as a backup tbh

—

master list / ao3 chapter link

—

She’s the one good thing about trips to medical in the Avenger’s Tower.

Every other day, at her direct insistence, her lab is the only place in the entire wing that he’s willing to go to. It smells warm and safe, nothing like the antiseptic that makes him want to break a limb. For the first two weeks, he tries to tell her that she doesn’t have to do this. He’s been looking after the link from his arm to his brain for years. There’s never been a problem with it that he couldn’t handle, and he’ll come back if anything ever feels off. No matter how much Steve hovers, she doesn’t need to waste her time on this.

By the start of the third week, he can’t bring himself to suggest that anymore.

—

psa: there’s some gross ass (sometimes detailed) nazi medical shit all through this fic, so if lobotomy talk of any kind is a no for you, skim over any brain talk. your best bet is just to skip the lab scenes where you can ❤️

fic title is a song by skrillex! we needed bouncy shit that vague hinted at plot. the chapter title is a moby song to lay out the v i b e s 👾 im always going to list these, so y’all have a song to listen to while reading

all i can think that needs to be said for canon clarity (ill make it all clear over time dw) is post-WS buckaroo got picked up by steve and sam to be taken for a shower and therapy. no civil war, no age of ultron. we're taking parts of it and doing other shit, you'll see. fury’s publicly alive and director again, shield got flushed out because mmmmm i said so i guess. no red room here. its not about nat, the lack of consent history hanging between them isnt something i want with this. i want to focus on other parts of their trauma bond. alsomaybeishipnatwithsomeoneinthis.

im sorry, but i never started wanda content on my end, and AI jarvis is comfy nostalgia i want to play in, so likely not a lot for her here. yes, we will be having shuri bully bucky, ofc, she’s the pin that holds this whole plot together (what else is new)

oh and i treat bucky’s arm as more of an atompunk feel rather than “the nazi’s had bleeding edge limb tech in ww2 that only affects bucky’s arm, definitely not anything else”

other than that, we’re firmly in good ‘ol stark tech magic and too many open wiki pages for all my plot device needs

also my grammar aint the good. i write these mf's in my spare time while baked af, you're gonna have to give a bitch a break babes 👾

—

Febuary 17th, 2018

"That's not what I'm asking about."

Tony throws up his hands from the other side of the conference table, then lets them smack back down against the polished surface dramatically. "Illuminate me then, Rogers. I'm running out of ways to explain that she's the best I've got to offer for this."

Steve pushes a hand through his hair with a frustrated huff. "I'm not a brain surgeon."

"No shit, that's what she's here for."

"I meant that I don't know what the fuck I'm looking at."

"Now I know you're worried if you're willing to," Tony clutches at the front of his shirt in mock horror, "swear in public." Pepper smacks his shoulder without even looking up from her tablet. The sight would make Steve smile under normal circumstances.

"You can hand me any resume you want, Tony. I'm telling you that I won't be able to see a difference. I know you're giving me a team who can do the work; I'm asking if they can do it while it's Bucky."

"Are you worried about his safety or theirs?" Pepper asks, finally looking over. Her tone isn't judgemental. If anything, it's veering towards the gentleness it has when she's talking Tony down.

"I'm not worried about theirs. I will be there every time. Even if he has a bad day, I'll make sure that—look. Nothing's going to happen. It's just...." Steve flips open the folder he's been carrying for a week. The edges of it are starting to wear down at this point. Sighing, he slides his summary notes to their side of the table. "He still doesn't... he doesn't talk about the previous escapes. No matter what his therapist tries. He just can't bring himself to do it. But it's not hard to get a clear picture of what used to happen. He does this every time. He builds himself a strong house, then a fallback point, and then he goes to work trying to fix all the damage alone, which he'll never be able to do. No one could. And there's not going to be a goon squad rolling in to drag him back anymore, so he's just going to—"

"Yeah, yeah, push him to help him; I grasped the concept the first hundred times," Tony cuts in. If he weren't so damn anxious, Steve might honestly feel bad about being so far up everyone's ass over this. "You've got me on board. So, what's the concern here? Will she quit the first time he bites her head off? That's a pretty chauvinist perspective, especially coming from you."

"She's had to put up with Tony long enough to befriend him; that should be proof enough." Pepper smiles as the nightmare himself points toward her in silent agreement.

Steve raises his hands amicably. "I'm not trying to insult anyone's professionalism. I'm sure she's had more than her fair share of problem patients to get where she is today. I'm... I'm more asking if—Christ. I'm sorry in advance, alright? But... Tony, I need you to look me in the eye and tell me that you'd have trusted her to get you home."

A stiff, all-consuming silence falls over the spare meeting room. Pepper and Steve waiting on bated breath; Tony frozen as he looks back at him with an expressionless face.

Steve despises himself for doing this to him. The knowledge of what happened in that cave is something the man is unimaginably protective over. It took years—and a night of blackout drinking on Tony's end—for the story to even slip out of him. Talking about Yinsen is the only time Steve's seen him cry that he can remember. It was just one overflow, barely even two tears that got scrubbed off his cheeks within the first minute, but it was there. It's the only way Steve knows to get his point across.

Tony looks down at the table and adjusts his posture. His head shifts and his lips purse in that signature move of his, the one that comes up when he's forced to be a person. With feelings. Pepper's arm moves, no doubt taking his hand under the table.

He looks back up, meeting Steve's eyes as his posture relaxes. "I wish they could have met. I think Yin would have gotten a kick out of her fashion taste. I think she'd have gotten an even bigger one out of putting him in it."

It's the most ringing endorsement he's ever heard the man give. More importantly, Steve knows just how much weight sits behind the guarded words.

—

"I've got their personnel files if you want them. They all volunteered them to you willingly."

"I'm alright."

"Do you want their names ahead of time?"

"No."

"Not even their first ones?"

"They can tell them to me."

"Okay."

"...."

"...What are they?"

"The ones that'll be behind the glass are Hannah and Wyatt." Of course Steve knows to start there, where his nerves will fixate the most. Asshole. "You probably won't even talk to the two of them today, but your main doctor for this will definitely offer to let you. Her name is Ava. She's going to check in with you for confirmation on a lot of things before she does them. I shadowed her for over a week, asshole. It's not about you; she does it for everyone."

Bucky grunts. "I wouldn't have jumped on her for it."

"No, you'd have sat there brooding like a petulant jackass instead, probably making her feel bad." Steve pauses for a long moment, fiddling with the paper coffee cup in his hands. "You should read Hannah's file, Buck."

"Why?" He shouldn't ask. He can hear the motive sitting in his best friend's voice. It's a fucking trap, and he fucking knows it, but he also can't stop himself.

"Her last name is Schuster."

He absolutely despises the way the situation makes his gut clench. They're dead. They're all dead, and the ones in their place have been declawed for much longer than he's been off ice. He's probably not even going to talk to the woman, at least not today. He might catch the sight of a name on a coat, however. Or on a chart.

He wanted to do this without letting old habits in. He wanted to at least start this feeling like a person, not a weapon. But he gets why the dickhead is trying to baby-step him into it.

Bucky holds out his hand. Steve silently passes him the tablet he keeps. Neither of them says a word as he reads the SHEILD file to himself, line by line. Taking in a stranger's entire professional life. Her family, her known associates, every residence she's ever held. It takes a moment of hovering his finger over the subfolder with her medical records to talk himself down from opening it. Nothing is lingering in those shadows; Steve wouldn't allow it. That's not a line he needs to cross anymore.

He hands it back when he's done. "The other two?"

"Nothing I could think of. Ava's seen your hard limit list—you remember I told you I was gonna give it to one of your—?"

"I remember. It's okay. That's why you have it."

"Yeah." Steve takes another long pause. "You remember that she knows—"

"I know."

"Good. The others don't. She says they don't need to for any of it, and it's never going on record again." He looks over out of the corner of his eye. "She's going to bring it up today."

"I had a hunch."

"I just wanted to make sure it didn't surprise you."

"I know."

"Good." Steve picks up his coffee to drain the last of it in one swig. He tosses the empty cup into a trashcan by the wall a few tables over before looking back at him. He extends his now-empty hand. "Ready?"

"Not in the fucking least." Bucky raises his hand to lock with his best friends momentarily. "Let's go."

There's no wing in this tower—and he's been through all of them by now—that he dislikes more than medical. The place makes his skin feel like a thousand goddamn spiders are crawling all over him, and the smell of it, fuck. It sits in his head like a fog while it burns up the inside of his nose, making him want to break anything touching any part of him. He'd make Steve be here with him no matter what; that's a given. But the fact that there's going to be a doctor poking at him today while he's trying to power through it all makes the guy's presence non-negotiable. Bucky needs the safety net for the good of everyone in that room.

Steve doesn't try for talking to distract him, mercifully enough. There are times when it helps. Today isn't going to be one of them. He doesn't even have to bring it up for Steve to know, and the reminder that he's understood helps his nerves. It's been an incredibly long time since he had an incident. He's proud of every last one of those days. He won't be upset with himself—well. He'll try not to be upset with himself if that streak ends. But he really, really wants that day not to be today.

Bucky treats it like a mission. He's braced and ready for the antiseptic when they first get through the entrance. He doesn't flinch or huff through his nose at the invasion, not even as they make their way to the specialized divisions. He's walked these hallways before; he's walked every single one in the tower. It was the only way he could get himself to sleep during his first week here. Aside from a few trips to the emergency intake, he hasn't had to force himself back.

He's definitely never bothered with meeting the specialists themselves. It took long enough to convince himself not to memorize the names of every staff member in the tower. He doesn't need to do that anymore. That's what his therapist and the Star Spangled Spandex keep insisting, anyways.

The door Steve goes for sticks out against the sleek hallway long before they reach it. It's painted, and not just a solid color; it's covered with a garden scene done by several different hands, going by the skill variation. Bucky runs his thumb over one of the hundreds of flowers as they walk past it to feel how thick the tiny acrylic mountains are. One of the petals cracks under the light pressure of the move, making him frown. The mural's not sealed at all, despite being long dried. Not the kind of thing maintenance usually overlooks.

An absolute shock of color hits Bucky's eyes when he gets his first look at the neurosurgeon's office. The walls he can spot from this side of the entryway are lined with tie-dye hanging cloths, and the floor is covered in fluffed-up, vibrant rugs. There's not a hint of SHIELD regulation left in the architecture, with all the walls that aren't glass holding even more heavy paint globs. Some of the murals are more flowers, but a majority of them are space themed.

The stench of antiseptic fades the farther into the room Bucky goes. By the time the door shuts behind him, it's entirely replaced with the warm aroma of apples and cinnamon. A long, curved desk is off to one corner, pushed against the glass wall overlooking the city and covered in picture frames. An arrangement of chairs piled with pillows matching the rest of the decor sits in the center. Each one of them is fucking massive.

The room itself is separated in half by a thick glass wall. He can spot two doctors sitting behind an array of equipment on the other, equally decorated side behind the glass. There isn't any creative paint in there from what he can spot. If it weren't for that, he could almost forget that he's standing in a medical lab.

Almost.

"Hi there," comes a voice to his right.

The woman it belongs to almost blends in with the office once Bucky turns his head to look at her. The lab coat that comes down to her knees is a solid blue rather than tye-dye, but it's covered in stitched designs. Most of them are shaped like bees. Bucky barely stops his eyebrows from raising at the sight of the outfit underneath. Loose cloth pants hanging low on her hips, with even more bees on them, and a hand-knit top that would have been called obscene during most of the decades he woke up in. The bun she's pulled her hair into must have been done this morning; more than a few bundles are hanging down haphazardly. Bucky hasn't met a lot of brain surgeons that he knows of, but he doesn't remember any of them having glasses as thick as hers. He's pretty sure that good vision is something most of them need for the job. Not that he's nervous.

She walks over with a warm smile, already extending a hand to him. She's a short, round little thing. Barely five feet, if his guess is accurate. It always is. "I'm Dr. Ryder. You can call me Ava. I'm told you're my newest patient."

He accepts the shake with a nod and tries not to think about how sweaty his hand might feel to her. Wiping it against his pants would have been too weird. "James."

"But you prefer Bucky, right?"

"Yes, ma'am. Ava," he corrects himself quickly.

"Oooh, someone's stepped on some toes in the new century." Her smile takes on a teasing edge. "I'm originally from Canada; you won't find me taking offense. Ingrained cultural manners are a bitch to hold back."

"Careful, they're the only manners he's got," Steve warns, already heading for one of the chairs.

"Ignore him. I'm house-trained," Bucky assures her. Taking his hand back, he hikes a thumb over his shoulder, needing something to stall with. "You sure you don't want someone to give your door a few clear coats? It'd be a shame to see all that work chip off."

Ava waves dismissively. "We redo it a lot; it's a relaxation project around here. It'll look different pretty soon." She points toward the glass wall separating the two halves of the office. "I've got the rest of the team working on a project to give us some space, but I can bring them in for a minute if you'd like to meet them?"

"I'm... I'm alright for now, thanks. I can meet them—whenever."

She doesn't insist further or comment on the blatant nerves in his voice. Her hand waves at the arranged chairs as she moves to sit in one. "Take your pick of the lineup, then. Typically I'd offer to take you to the corner of the roof that we've claimed for ourselves as an alternative. But, I need to keep you in environmental controls for sanitation, at least for the initial visit."

Bucky nods a few times as he sits in the one next to Steve's. His ass sinks nearly a foot into nothing but pillows, and his spine goes rigid. "Here's fine."

He'd have said no anyways, not that he'll mention that. Too many open sight lines with his anxiety on edge. He'll be revisiting the roof before his next appointment to familiarize himself, though, that's for sure. His last trip up there was long before she was even hired. The mental image of bead strings and tye-dye throw blankets on patio furniture flits through his head. If she decorates the same way everywhere, he's guessing it won't be all that hard to find the space.

Ava pulls up a tablet from the coffee table to rest in the middle of her folded legs. He's guessing she's into yoga in her spare time. One of her eyebrows arches at them in amusement. "You know, I've never actually seen someone fill one of these before now."

"The benefits of dosed living," Steve quips, his tone a little too positive. It makes Bucky's foot start to bounce silently against the floor on instinct.

If she notices, the doctor doesn't mention it as she focuses on Bucky. "Steve tells me you prefer when doctors keep things direct with you."

Bucky shifts his eyes over to the man in question, who busies himself with one of the pillows, picking at the hanging fringe. Fucker's going to be hearing about this later, that's for damn sure.

He looks back at Ava. Time to get it over with, he encourages himself. "Yeah, if you don't mind."

"Not at all. I know Steve's already told you, but I want you to hear it from my mouth. I have The Soldier's activation memorized."

He can't stop the gut instinct to swallow over hearing the words, but he nods. "I'm okay with it."

"It's not in any of my notes; it never will be. My team understands that there is a specific trigger in place; they need to in order to do their job. But they have no indication of what it is. I'll never write the words out or speak them where they can be picked up. Steve helped me with the pronunciation and the order when he first gave me your records, but you have my word that I won't be repeating them."

"You should," Bucky insists immediately. "If anything happens, you should, and you shouldn't hesitate about it."

"She knows, Buck," Steve assures him with a murmur. "I took her through the worst case drill. She's got a panic button on her."

"Steve tells me that my reaction time is fast enough for working on your case safely." Ava's head tilts to the side slightly. "Your comfort is the priority here. We can always run through a silent drill together if you'd like the reassurance."

He thinks about it. Honest to god, he lets himself sit in the idea of putting Steve's training to the test for more than a few moments. Neither of them push him for an answer. "I might take you up on that at some point."

She nods, the hair hanging closest to her face bouncing slightly. "Whenever you want. That offer is permanent. I'm taking this case on because I want to help undo what's been done; I'm not here to let it be continued, not even in research." Her eyes shift to Steve, with a bitter defiance building in them. "I trust that'll be clarified to the director if our work here ever reaches his ears, captain."

Steve nods, finally looking up from where he's moved on to picking at the pillow's stitches. "There's no more mud in that water. Fury understands how far over the line we went."

Ava doesn't look convinced in the least. Bucky doesn't blame her, not with the scattered memories of his role in all of it sitting in his head. When she looks back at him, the distrust leaves her eyes. "I'd like to get a better idea of what we'll be working with. I know that's probably going to be one of the most difficult parts of this, so we can try to get through it now if you'd like. Or we can wait until you're feeling more comfortable. It's entirely up to you."

Shifting slightly to straighten out his shoulders, Bucky nods. "I'm ready now."

It's an outright lie, but that doesn't really matter anymore. There's never going to be a time when he is ready. He still needs to do this.

"I'm going to need to adjust your head a few times today," she tells him with a relaxed, melodic tone as she stands up. She lifts a black briefcase from the coffee table and brings it over to rest on the arm of his chair, where he can easily see it being handled. "Is there anywhere you'd prefer me putting my hands? Or anywhere specific you want me to avoid?"

Bucky sees Steve shift his head slightly in his peripheral and wants to roll his eyes. Asshole. He'd have made a joke at the most; he wouldn't have been insulted. Probably. "I can't think of anywhere to steer you away from. You're good to do whatever you need to do."

She doesn't take him into the other section of the room like he thought she would. She doesn't even make him stand back up. All it takes to get the nightmare he's been dreading for years started is Ava pulling a wired, plastic wreath from the briefcase to put over the top of his head. She doesn't push a cold faceplate over his eye and against his temples; no bite guard gets shoved in his mouth. There's no frigid metal probing into the top of his neck to make his teeth buzz until he wants to rip them out of his jaw. The air around him isn't humid and suffocating like it was in that bunker. He can't hear the hum of electric coils or the squeak of leather boots on linoleum.

He's not in Siberia. He's in New York. This isn't a HYDRA agent strapping him down. This is a hippie, who definitely smoked pot this morning, putting a sensor on his head that barely has any weight.

"Here, hold this for me," she tells him from behind his chair, offering her tablet over his shoulder. He takes it silently, bringing it to rest in both hands. A digital scan of his brain is already being mapped out on the screen. It's the first time he's seen the anchor that wraps around his brainstem since the X-rays HYDRA used to leave up like trophies. "We can get a look at this thing together."

Bucky takes a deep breath in. It's… not a pretty sight. Whatever they put in him isn't registering in the bright blue lights of the rest of his brain. They're all dark spots, primarily lines branching out from the anchor that might as well be a black hole.

"You see that?" Ava leans forward to run her nail up the path of one of the lines. It starts at the anchor, and it's attached to another point further up, but that junction is the source of even more lines that go all over. There's a fucking mechanical spider web in his brain. "That's your motor cortex, and those links are tethered to your arm, starting there. That—the one right there—is what's making your cybernetics work."

"What's the rest of it?" There's a fucking lot of it, whatever it is. A lot more than he remembers being put in.

"Considering the intent of the Nazis that had you, the end goal was probably total control." Her finger moves, tapping several things that look way too fucking important as she keeps talking. "All of those there are connected to your essential functions: breathing, heart rate, consciousness. From there, they branched out into trying for control over your limbs. Jesus." She leans further over his shoulder and pinches at the screen to zoom in. "It looks like they were already building into your entire cognitive process."

"What does that mean?" Steve asks, worry rising in his tone.

"It means they were reckless on top of being cruel. And fucking stupid—pardon my French."

"You're talking to soldiers, doc," Bucky reminds her quietly, his brows drawn in as his eyes trace the black spots in his grey matter.

"Right. In that case, fuck every last one of them and the horses they rode... into whichever circle of hell they're burning in, I guess." Bucky's lips twitch slightly as she zooms back out. "They were venturing into parts of the brain that haven't been studied enough for human testing, even by today's standards. Blindly poking just to see what worked; my guess is because they knew that you could survive it. You see that big scary thing under your hippocampus?"

Bucky nods as she taps at the anchor. "Yeah. Yeah, that was… that was the first part. That got put in, I mean." He clears his throat when it starts to scratch. "I'm. I'm pretty sure it was the first part."

"Do you want to know why you don't feel sure?" she asks gently. Her voice has dropped to something much softer. It makes him sit back in the overly comfortable chair incrementally.

"Yeah," he tells her quietly, honestly. He wouldn't have a year ago.

Ava circles her finger around the center of his brain, where one of the more prominent lines from the anchor holds several thinner, black branches. "That's your limbic system. It controls emotion, memory, behavioral habits, that kind of thing. They fried it at some point trying to get to your memories, I assume. My team has the photograph from your HYDRA file, the one with the X-ray from your initial brain surgery. I've studied it with my own eyes. That serum in your bloodstream is the only thing that brought you back from being a vegetable. The salvaged notes from the initial facility they kept you in mention months of unresponsiveness and varying levels of brain activity.

"There's a reason you can't remember who you were then, Bucky. They wiped you clean because they knew you, out of all their test subjects, could recover from it. There wasn't enough left of your mind to hold memories, much less any kind of higher will." He hears her clothes shuffle behind him and sees Steve turn his head to look back at her from the corner of his eye. "I'm more than willing to testify to that in any court on Earth, captain. So we're clear."

"Understood," Steve replies, his voice thick. "I appreciate that."

Fuck, so does Bucky. Too bad he can't get his throat to open back up at the moment.

"Now, let's talk about the hard part." He hears Ava sigh. "From what I can see, there's no way we can remove any of this. Not by any standard that I'm willing to entertain, at least."

Bucky shakes his head and tries clearing his throat again. It doesn't feel anywhere near as successful this time around. "That's fine. I don't—I don't think I'd… I wouldn't be ready for that. I just want to know it's not…."

"Capable of being controlled remotely?" she offers when he trails off.

"Yeah. Aside from the code. I don't—that's not a problem. They're dead. Anyone else that had it, I mean." Christ, his foot's going to bounce straight out of his boot, right through the leather.

"I can't make any kind of assurances at this stage when it comes to that. But you have my word that it will be my team's primary focus." Her hand pulls back, and he feels four of her fingertips lightly rest on his shoulder. "I'd prefer to check that connection point they left over your spinal cord before you leave today, but the rest of what we need for diagnostics can wait until another time."

Bucky pulls in a heavy breath through his nose. "Yeah. I'm ready to do that."

"I need to get a few things for it and check in with my team." She taps at the side of the wreath lightly. "You don't have to keep looking at the scan, but you should leave this on while I'm gone so we can get some basic readings."

"You're the boss, doc." He tries not to make it look like he's in a hurry to get the thing out of his hand when he dumps the tablet on his leg.

"I'll be back in just a bit," she tells them, calmly shuffling off into the other half of the office. The glass door hisses loudly as she goes through it, confirming it's a sterile lab. The wall frosts over shortly after with the privacy screen activating.

Neither of them says a word for the first few minutes.

"Well," Steve finally offers up, his voice still as thick as when he thanked the doctor. "There's the confirmation you've been waiting for."

"That's not what that was—"

"Alright, you know what? Fuck you very much, Buck—"

"Fuck me? Fuck me? Yeah, I guess that's how it works now, what with you making alll the fucking calls—"

Steve's finger comes sailing into his face. "This affects more than just—" He stops with a short, muted groan and yanks his hand back to shove through his hair. After a moment, he lets it fall to his thigh in a clenched fist. "You want to sit here blaming yourself for it all, fine. I've got no right to tell you to stop when I'm still doing the exact same thing. But I'm pulling you through this whether," his voice goes high and mocking as he turns to glare a hole into the side of Bucky's head, "yooou like it or not. I let you fall once; I'm not fucking doing it again, asshole."

Bucky stares down a lava lamp sitting on the coffee table for a long, silent moment, his face pinched. He counts the number of wiggling blobs floating from the top to the bottom. He takes in their shared color and picks as close to a stupid paint name for it as possible. One by one, his photographic memory goes down the list of stupid colors from that stupid swatch wall at the stupid art supply store that Steve takes him to when he can't sleep at three in fucking the morning. He decides on fuchsia because it sounds extra stupid. There're twelve in total, they're fuchsia, and his best friend is as stupid as the name of their color.

The anger eventually eases up. "You're the asshole."

Steve sits back in his chair with a sigh. "Love you, too."

It takes a long minute of grinding his teeth for Bucky to force out the question that won't stop echoing in his head. "She doesn't know about the others?"

"She knows there were other attempts, but no, I didn't tell her any of them were successful. I left my notes in her file on what's been held back from her, along with the things she knows that her team doesn't. You can tell her whatever you want; that's up to you. I really think you should read through all of their files."

"Yeah?" Bucky snaps mockingly. "I really think you should kiss my ass."

Steve reaches out to grab one of the magazines from a stack on the coffee table. His posture is resigned and absolutely screaming I know better than you right now, idiot. "You should grow the fuck up."

—

There's no way the notes from HYDRA cover all his surgeries, not with this much framework built up inside his brain.

Steve warned her to expect something like this. The bastards passed Bucky around like a science experiment over the decades. Whenever a station was compromised, all of its records were destroyed to safeguard HYDRA's critical secrets, the work and confirmed existence of the Winter Soldier being one of them. Only a handful were raided by SHEILD efficiently enough to prevent further loss of his medical history. What remains is the scattered works of solitary minds spanned across decades.

In Ava's opinion, not one of those minds should have been granted the mercy of seeing daylight again after their senseless, abhorrent, despicable crimes against the sergeant. Never in her life has she been a violent woman, but given a blunt object and five minutes with the lot of them, she'd have been very tempted to rebalance nature with ruthless gusto.

A hand nudges at her arm, pulling her from her distraction with a quick inhale. "Sorry, repeat that?"

Wyatt's eyebrows pull in sympathetically. "Y'can hand this part off to one of us, boss."

"You can hand it off to him," Hannah interrupts briskly, her eyes never moving from where they're pressed against a microscope.

"Y'can hand it off to me," Wyatt rapidly corrects with a warm smile. He drums his stylus against his arm and leans against the lab's center console. The movable hologram program Tony gifted them is already building detail into one of the darkest acts in human history. Right there, in front of one of the most gentle souls Ava's ever met. The contrast makes her stomach drop. "I mean it; y'know me, I got a real sweet touch. Betch'a the sergeant wouldn't even know I'd been there til it was over."

"Don't make me say it, Combs." Hannah almost sounds bored. The former marine is in a good mood today.

Wyatt doesn't even bother with throwing a quip back at her. He's usually wise enough to know when he's in a losing battle. Reaching out, he gives Ava's shoulder a supportive bump. "You said so yourself; he's alright with meetin' us."

Ava shakes her head, bringing her hand up to rub at the bridge of her nose. Her eyes are stinging hard enough to make them water. She shouldn't have pulled an all-nighter before this; it definitely isn't helping her frustration. "He's okay with it; that doesn't mean he's ready for it. You should see the way he's practically vibrating in that chair. There's not one part of this he isn't forcing himself through. I want to try to limit contact until he feels like he's in control of the space around him."

"That won't take long," Hannah comments quietly, reaching for another slide. "There are certain habits infiltrators don't lose."

"Speakin' from your own experience on that one?" Wyatt asks, curiosity creeping into his tone. Their eternal beacon of southern sunshine has yet to give up chasing details about her, unlike everyone else who visits their little medical corner.

"Infiltrator is not the classification I would have given myself. I was never very subtle in my old line of work."

"Yeah, 'cause subtle's definitely the word I'd pick for your blunt ass now." Wyatt rolls his eyes and extends his hand to rapidly spin the projection of Bucky's brain with the flick of a stubby finger. "Either'a you looked at these trenches much yet? There's different cablin' in every major section. None of it's got a set standard, far as I can tell."

"I don't think he ever had the same doctor for more than two surgeries." Ava leans heavily against the console with a sigh, trying not to let herself venture into the mindset of a terrified soldier. She has to stay detached, or this will eat her alive before they're even halfway done. The enlarged hologram already hurts to look at in more ways than one. "Steve confirmed that HYDRA intermittently lost sections of his records through the years. All of this could be fractured by the decades; we won't know until Paige starts getting a read on the programming behind that main port."

"How do you want us to handle data transfer?" Hannah asks.

"Let's keep this off our internal server as much as we can help it. Tony sectioned off a virtual instance that we can burn when needed, but the only time you should be using that is for his scans. Put everything else on an isolated hard copy here in the lab, wherever you can do it without hindering the work. I want the equipment analysis kept as off-record as possible. I don't want this being recreated. By anyone."

"Definitely agreein' with you on that one, boss." Wyatt pokes his finger into the projection's left frontal lobe, halting its slowing spin. "I know we said extraction ain't the goal here, but I'm gonna be runnin' some sims on that when I've got the time. I don't like the idea of leavin' any'a this shit in, even if we do get it identified and nuked."

Ava nods and reaches up to give his shoulder a warm squeeze. "Let me know what initial paths you route; we can build from there. I doubt he'll be ready for any extensive work for years to come, but the least we can do is present him with some options." She takes a deep breath through her nose as she looks over the port connection on the hologram. "Alright, I'll be back after I finish his consultation."

"Good luck, boss," Wyatt encourages with a smile. "Tell the sergeant we said hi."

She waves her hand over her shoulder with a hum and braces herself to face her latest patient again.

The sergeant himself is sitting just as stiffly as he was when she left, but the captain has moved on to relaxing with a magazine in his hands. They both look up at the sound of the door opening, with a laid-back smile on Steve's face and a forced one on Bucky's. She almost wants to tell him that he doesn't have to make an attempt.

"Sorry for the wait; needed a quick check-in with the brain trust." And to not want to throw something heavy through Tony's fancy glass walls. "They wanted me to pass along their hello's. Dr. Combs, in particular, is very excited to meet you."

Bucky huffs a silent laugh through his nose as she returns to stand at the side of his chair. She doesn't try to move behind him for the moment. "Yeah, I'm sure I'm real—"

"Buck," Steve cuts in softly with a side eye in his best friend's direction.

"Fascinating?" Bucky's eyes lift to Ava's at her teasing guess, and his responding nod is sheepish. She smiles at the attempted manners. "Your case is as interesting as it is horrific, that's for sure. Lucky for you, we're a morbid bunch, so you can go for the gallows humor whenever you want." She taps at Bucky's arm with the pad of her index finger, trying to warm him up to repeat physical contact. "However, I'm pretty sure Wyatt is looking forward to asking for your autograph above everything."

The sergeant's eyebrows rocket toward his hairline. "What's he looking for? Love, The Winter Soldier?"

"Bucky." Steve doesn't even look over this time; he just drops one side of the magazine to pinch the bridge of his nose.

The sight of an exasperated Captain America sitting in her office makes Ava snort loudly. She doesn't miss the way it makes Bucky's lips raise at the corners. "He comes from a long line of history buffs who believe accurate preservation is the best tool to prevent it from repeating. The guy grew up with battle models and field testimonials from every major war. I'm guessing he had some Howling Commando envy as a kid, though he won't own up to that on his end."

"He knows I was one of them for all of five minutes, right?"

"None of us were Howlies for long," Steve forcefully insists, one foot coming over to kick Buckys. "But that doesn't change the good we did while we were."

"It also won't stop him from chewing your ear off about it if you let him." Ava crosses her arms over her chest in amusement. "My advice is to stop him early. Definitely before he starts asking what you remember about the maps. You've got a real Milo Thatch working on your brain now." Bucky looks up at her in confusion. "Haven't gotten around to Disney movies yet? Milo's a character from Atlantis, one of my personal favorites. He and Wyatt share a certain level of academic excitement."

"I'll add it to the watch list." A small smile comes up, making her wonder what his cheeks look like when he really lets it go. "And keep the point of no return in mind."

She stops herself from gushing about the beauty of the art behind the movie, wanting to honor his headfirst approach. "You ready to get the last part of today's visit over with?"

His shoulders rise with another resigned intake, making her want to be ferociously violent toward the closest available Nazi. "I'm ready when you are, doc."

"My go-to hardware specialist built a prototype connector based on the scans Tony got during your initial intake. It's only the first iteration for the sake of data extraction, so be sure to speak up if anything feels off. Anything at all, even if it's just minor discomfort. She can work on changing it for the next build. I'm sure Steve can attest to Paige's efficiency at her job by now."

The slightest hint of a blush comes over the captain's cheeks at the teasing mention of his numerous visits to the engineering department. "Ms. Findley—"

"Does she ask you to call her that?" Bucky jumps on his best friend with immediately. Ava would feel bad about chumming the waters, but the banter is making him relax against the chair.

Steve shuts his mouth momentarily. The blush gets a shade darker before he opens it again. "Paige is a very dedicated worker. And a lovely conversationalist. How do you two know each other? Through Tony?"

Now Ava really does feel bad. She puts a hand on her hip and tries to keep her smile from growing. "No, I'm the one who introduced them. She's been my best friend for about fifteen years now."

Steve freezes, and Bucky's grin takes over the lower half of his face. The sergeant sits all the way back, with shoulders that are perfectly at ease. "Oh, good. If I think of anything later, I can just have Stevie drop it off for me. I'd hate to forget between appointments."

Ava pulls the wireless reader and its port connector from the briefcase on Bucky's chair. She steps up behind him and tries not to let her eyes linger on how his smile lights up his face or how it warms her chest to see. Her free hand comes to rest on his left shoulder, leaving the exit door in his right peripherals. "This shouldn't take more than a few minutes at most. Ready?"

"Hit me." It almost doesn't sound forced.

She lifts his hair and runs her thumb over the port once to brace him for the new sensations before lining up the connector. As she'd explicitly requested of Paige, the mechanism doesn't snap into place when she locks it in, meaning there's no responding vibration to move through his skull. The notes from Bucky's therapist that were passed along didn't mention it, but they hardly mention anything at all. There's a lot he's holding back, there has to be, and she's been trying to preempt as much of it as she can.

Bucky's nails dig into the arm of the chair, and he inhales sharply. After a moment, his fingers start to relax one by one. Ava watches them all, her eyes moving between his hands and neck repeatedly, while the reader begins its data harvest. She gives him long enough to get a few steady breaths in.

"Have you started any animated movie binges?" she prods, wanting to stall for time to get a closer look at his implant. With him letting her hold up his hair like this, it might be her only chance for the foreseeable future.

"Sam's gotten me to sit through a few of his picks," he replies tensely.

"Mmm. I'm guessing Mister Feathers is a Pixar fan."

"I know that's an animation studio, but that's the extent of my expertise on the subject. Are they the ones who made Lilo and Stitch?"

"He did not make you watch that one first."

"He did, but that's technically not my first animated movie. We had them back in the 30s, you know."

"Some of us still call it animation's golden age," Steve mutters in the most crotchety old artist fashion, his eyes back on the magazine in his lap.

"Take a look around this room, Rogers," Ava sasses. "Do I look like someone who'd argue with you about its significance?"

"Point taken."

Her eyebrows pull in while she looks over just how much of Bucky's spinal cord is exposed to outside influence. She knows how far the port runs thanks to the scans, but now she's getting an eyeful of movable hatching and flesh that will never get the proper chance to heal.

"How are you handling the daily care of this?" she asks, running her finger around one edge of the port.

"I do it," Bucky tells her simply.

Her eyes lock on the back of his head in disbelief. "You do… what, exactly?"

"I've got a morning routine for it. Clear the excess buildup, sterilize the whole area, work the skin, that kind of thing."

"You understand that this has direct access to your brainstem, right?"

"I know." He shifts his weight in the chair. "I'm careful."

"I have several medical degrees, one of which is entirely focused on the human brain, and even I would hesitate to approach this on my own body. If anything that can give you so much as a hundred-degree fever touches this, you're dead, Bucky." She lets the hand not holding up his hair come to rest on his shoulder. "I'm not trying to scare you with this, but as your doctor, I need to make sure you understand the severity here. I don't want you doing this yourself anymore; I want you to come to my office for it."

"That's not necessary—"

"What time do you want him here in the mornings?" Steve asks, ignoring Bucky entirely.

"I don't need to come here in the mornings—"

"It doesn't have to be every morning," Ava offers, wanting to give him a compromise. She's definitely not letting him go back to doing it himself. "I can set up a stable cleaning routine every other day whenever you have the time to come in."

"I have it handled, really—"

"I wouldn't push it past three days, though."

"Every other morning," Steve agrees. "That's perfect. JARVIS can keep an eye on the schedules for him."

"I've got working fucking eyeballs," Bucky almost shouts, making Ava and Steve finally let up.

She squeezes her hand on his shoulder, half in apology, half in sympathy. "Yes, you do. But they happen to be in the front of your head. My eyes can see the back of your neck without a mirror, and they've got a decade's worth of disgustingly thorough medical training behind them. You came here because you're ready for this to get done. Now you actually have to let me do it."

Bucky lifts a hand as if he's about to argue but then lowers it with a soft sigh. "Yeah... yeah, alright. But I'm not always going to be here in the mornings—"

"She said it doesn't have to be the mornings," Steve cuts in again.

"You know what I mean, jackass. I'm not always going to be here consistently. I have, you know, a job that you try to boss me around on—"

"We can make sure you've got a trained medic to help—"

"No, Grant."

The words are said softly, and it takes a moment for Ava to even remember that it's the captain's middle name, but something happens in the wake of them. Steve's relentless push stops on a dime, and the fight leaves Bucky's shoulders. The two of them relax marginally, and Steve nods once. "Okay. So, we establish the routine here. Get it ironed out; get you practiced with it. Then I'll clear you for doing it yourself on missions. But if you miss even one while you're here, so help me—"

"I got it, I got it."

Steve watches Bucky with a tightly held expression for another long moment. Then he looks up at Ava with a nod. "He'll be here, and I'll make sure he's not cleared for another mission until you two have a stable routine for taking care of this."

Ava gives Bucky's shoulder another light squeeze. "I promise it'll be quick every time. I'll work with Paige on making you a field kit. In the long run, this shouldn't interrupt your normal day-to-day much at all."

"Appreciate the effort, doc." Bucky gives a soft grunt. "Sorry for the. Y'know. Pushback."

"I think the world owes you a little more than patience as backpay, Sergeant. I'm happy to help where I can."

—

Febuary 19th 2018

"I can handle it if you want me to."

"No. No, I... I can do it."

"You're sure?"

"You think I can't?"

"I think you look like you're about to throw up on my shoes."

"I don't like the idea of... starting off like that."

"That's why I'm offering to do it."

"No. It should be me. There are things you won't be able to explain."

"You can always fill in the blanks when she shows up for Soldat training."

"What a great alternative first impression! Hello, ma'am, not only am I a complete jackass, but I also delegate my role as—"

"You're not delegating; you're assigning the right person to the job. And this takes away the need for you to be a jackass."

"Leaving you to be a confrontational bitch in someone's eyes?"

"What's the issue there?"

"That's not what you are, Nat."

"Says who?"

Steve reaches out to smack the side of her arm. "That's one of my closest friends you're ragging on."

"She can take it." Natasha looks over at him, a bored hike to one brow. "Let's stay focused on what the doctor can take. This won't be like the therapists. We can't put him through multiple doctors on this. We'll only get one or two tries before he draws the hard limit."

He nods, turning his eyes back to the closed elevator doors. "Right. Right, it's for a good reason. I can do it."

"You don't have to. I can handle it."

"I know. But it should be me." He knocks the side of his boot against hers. "Thank you."

"Always. Let me know how it goes."

Natasha's off the elevator before the doors are even finished opening, leaving Steve to collect himself alone. He pushes off the back railing with a heavy sigh. No part of this is going to be easy to stomach. He's accepted that. He exits the elevator with a resigned set to his shoulders.

The medical wing is dark this late into the day. JARVIS already confirmed that the doctor is still in the building. From the AI's reports, she pulls late nights like this regularly. It bodes well for what he'll have to ask of her and her team.

He stops to admire the heavy paint on the outside of the lab's door. There's days worth of work here, clearly a labor of love. It takes until he's admiring the fourth flower of his perusal to notice that it's not all the same artist. He scans it a bit quicker after that, trying to take a guess as to how many different hands took part. His best guess is four.

Accepting that he's been inadvertently stalling, Steve pushes it open roughly. He probably should have expected the onslaught of color in the room from seeing the door. It still hits him hard enough to make him do a double-take through his exaggerated annoyance. The doctor sitting on the other side of a very large desk nearly jumps out of her chair.

"Christ Al-fucking-mighty," she swears, one hand coming up to brace against her chest. Steve gets nailed with a furious glare. "Knock much?"

Well, that's one test passed. "Are you Dr. Ryder?"

"I am. Who the hell wants to—oh." Recognition dawns on her face as Steve gets close enough to be illuminated by her desk light. The fury in her shifts toward indignance. "I happen to hold a lot of respect for you, at least during normal business hours. So, I'm going to give you the benefit of the doubt here and let you have a moment to explain yourself, captain."

He almost starts with an apology, but he catches himself in time. "I've been told you're one of the best neurosurgeons we're in contact with—"

"No, you've been told I am the best." She crosses her arms over her chest and leans back in her chair. Her head inclines toward him. "You can continue."

Steve's reservations about her being able to handle Bucky are leaving rapidly. It almost makes him smile. He holds it together with his best captain voice. "I need your expertise on a consultation. A private consultation. Completely off SHEILD books."

"Am I being roped into the organization's second overhaul?" There's bitterness lingering in her tone. The kind Steve remembers feeling on his own end for months leading up to Fury's near-assassination.

"No. When I say private, I mean private. This isn't under SHIELD purview. I'll be expecting discretion if you think you're up to the case, so we're clear."

The doctor's eyebrows sail up, and her head moves back far enough to hit her chair. "I'll be expecting you to hand over some details before I agree to a damn thing. As a follow-up, you can provide me with an explanation as to why this needed to be done an hour before midnight, with no forewarning and definitely no respect. Otherwise, you can turn your happy ass back around and go find the other neurosurgeons you didn't feel like harassing first."

Damn. He really should have gotten Natasha to do this; she's faster with proper comebacks. "You'll be given information as you need to know it. First, I need to make sure that—"

"First, you can fuck off." Her head shifts to one side as he pauses. "I don't respond well to authority, captain. I'm sure whatever's going on is very important if it's got America's Sweetheart making an ass of himself in the middle of my office on a Monday night. But that's not really my problem. It could be, were I given a reason to care about it."

"Does rectifying war crimes warrant your valuable attention, doctor?" The words feel awful leaving his mouth; she doesn't deserve to get barked at like this. But he needs an honest indication of how she'll react to a bad day.

Ava watches him with a slightly open mouth for more than a few tense moments. Then recognition dawns for a second time, and her eyes roll dramatically. "Oh, for god's sweet sake. You could have just asked if I have experience with PTSD patients. Hell, you were clearly sent by Tony, and I met the man at a veteran's benefit, so you could have asked him. Barnes' presence on the Avenger's roster isn't exactly a secret these days."

Steve holds himself still, then shifts his weight to one foot. "You met at a veteran's benefit?"

She nods slowly, with a bit of mockery behind the motion. "Yes. Almost a decade ago. He funds most of my work with the VA."

That hadn't been included in her resume. He didn't want to invade her privacy by pulling her file until she agreed to it. Steve feels heat rise to his cheeks. Then the anger starts to surface. "You know, I'm not one hundred percent sure I was supposed to know that."

"You think?" The words are bone dry, and her posture is still defensive, but there's a smile working its way up from the corners of her lips.

"Look, I...." Steve raises a hand to the back of his neck sheepishly. "I apologize. I promise it's not about doubting your professionalism—"

"It's about protecting family, yeah, I get it." Her arms don't unfold from her chest. But her eyebrows do come back down.

"He's very important to me. I want to make sure he's in good hands, that's all."

"Well?"

Steve's brows draw in. "I wasn't trying to dump the case on you right now—"

"No, idiot." Her eyes roll again, with much less aggression. "I'm asking if I passed."

"Oh." He nods, his cheeks still feeling far too hot. "With flying colors, so far. There's still a lot more to cover before we get Bucky involved, but. Yes, ma'am. I think you'll handle him just fine."

With a sigh, her arms finally lower. She extends a hand out in his direction. "Ava Ryder. It's very nice to meet you, Captain Rogers."

He takes her hand with a firm shake, inclining his head apologetically. "It's very nice to meet you, as well, doctor. You can call me Steve."

"You can call me Ava. So can James whenever I'm finally graced with his presence."

Yeah. She'll do just fine. "He prefers Bucky. And I'm sure he'll provide you with a much more agreeable first impression. All that can wait until you don't look like you're going to fall asleep on your keyboard, though.

Ava smiles warmly at him, falling back against her chair as she takes back her hand. "I'm looking forward to it. You can send me the details on the case at a reasonable hour to make up for scaring the shit out of me."

"Yes, ma'am." He tips his head respectfully, already backing up from her desk. "Sorry for the scare. And for being so disrespectful. He really is—"

"Important to you." She waves her hand dismissively before reaching up to push at her glasses. "I get it, don't worry. I'd be twice as much of a wreck in your shoes. You're doing fine."

Sometimes, on the rarest of occasions, there are benefits to having the worst moments of his life in the history books. "I appreciate that, thank you. You have a good rest of your night, ma'am. I'll send—I'll have JARVIS send you his file—"

"Captain Rogers is unaware of how to forward SHEILD files, doctor," the AI cuts in gleefully.

"I had my suspicions, JARVIS; thanks." She waves her hand again, this time in goodbye, as she looks back at her computer screen. "Please don't trip on my carpet and bust your ass on the way out of my office."

Steve pointedly turns on his heel, glad for the excuse to hide his burning face. He all but races to the door. "I'll be in contact, doc."

"Mhmm."

When he pulls open the painted door, he's almost unsurprised to find Natasha leaning against the other side of the hallway. She doesn't move at all, but one side of her mouth lifts in a smirk.

Steve lets the door shut softly behind him before cocking his head to the side. "Very cute. You two in on it together?"

"No, but sniffing out Tony's bait didn't take long. You'd have noticed, too, if you weren't so far up Bucky's ass." Her head tilts in the opposite direction as his. "Feel better?"

He straightens up with a nod. The motion feels confident. "Much."

—author's end notes, yoinked straight from ao3—

“what’s paige like?” well. to put it simply. she is every last ounce of karma that steve has earned by lovingly terrorizing his best friend 😌

i feel like the overall theme got covered enough with this to tell if the plot is for you or not. flirting starts next, but isn't super blatant until chap 4. i am in zero rush and will have no problem with dedicating an entire chap to cuddling tbh, this is a comfort project im in for the long haul. check back later for * to get full smut taste, current (possibly changing) map has it in chap 9. OR you can check back for kinktober, i have all 31 days outlined for these idiots. i need starfield to be good so i can do smut for that too, bethesda pls

keep in mind this will get sci-fi weird at times, and loosely ref/revolve around greek myth tropes bc iiiii like ‘em ❤️ im a fandom ancient who takes no issue with cleaning out the dickhead comments 😌 also i might edit shit. im still not clear on what ao3 will email about a bookmark (god willing its not edits that dont include a new chapter) but just in case i figured id warn for anyone who doesn't want email spam

im gonna try to keep ava and paige as vague as possible, aside from a few scattered physical details so i have SOMETHING to write. my favorite bucky fic in existence is a reader!fic (safe with me is Ungodly levels of good, and i dont just say that as a fellow west wing addict. i constantly forget that his apartment in it isn't actually canon and there're no m&ms hiding for eternity somewhere) so you wont get any judgment from me on replacing both of them right down to their names, that’s how im writing them!! it just feels unfair to tag it a reader fic with them being given SUCH a heavy “presence" i guess

main pov's (the undated ones) will always flip between bucky and ava. the dated ones are other characters pov's OOOOOOR its a flashback in which case it could be the two of them, but ill always try to make it clear whose headspace is focused up front, so i dont think ive set up a hurdle there

thanks for reading ❤️ i love and appreciate feedback immensely ❤️ feeds the brain chemicals 😌 no worries abt spoilers, i feel like anyone looking there knows what theyre risking lmao

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes fic #chapter update #man the way thats going to be the extend of effort i have when it comes to promoing this damn thing #truly astonishing how little fandom energy i have lmao #i sure as shit aint taggin the other ones with anything but my sorting tags lmao #i do not have the Energy #good space

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divergent-one-1984 · 1 year ago

Text

Organized Crime Ring in Astoria, NY, in a neighborhood under the jurisdiction of 114th PRECINCT and in apartment buildings managed by CENTRAL ASTORIA, LLC. I have been the victim of TARGETED COMMUNITY HARASSMENT SINCE SUMMER 2016 because of my race and gender, I am an African American woman (because of a rumor / gossip mill started by staff at NYC DEPARTMENT OF EDUCATION while I was employed there from 2014 to 2016 I was made the victim of TARGETED PSYCHOLOGICAL HARASSMENT). Due to the illegal access and leaking of private, personal, confidential information by wiretapping / cloning / hacking of personal devices and illegal surveillance in my residence. This includes leaking of confidential medical information (HPV, strains that can cause cervical cancer and an Abortion) - Blackberry Messenger (BBM) between DEVIN ELTON THOMPSON and myself in MARCH 2011 - I ENDED OUR CASUAL DATING RELATIONSHIP that began in the BRONX, NY in MAY 2010 (per a blind date hook up by mutual acquaintance SHO CLARK) - POST 2 of 3 - BBM Exchange with DEVIN ELTON THOMPSON MARCH 2011 pages 1 through 2)

DEVIN ELTON THOMPSON'S Blackberry Messenger (BBM) Pin # is 3232520E.

This conversation started out with DEVIN ELTON THOMPSON reaching out to me to get $$ to repair the brand new SONY PLAYSTATION game console I bought him for his birthday in NOVEMBER 2010 and then turned into him asking me for $$ to pay his rent because apparently he had just decided while we were in this conversation to pay to repair the PLAYSTATION with his rent money, which was $140, with the assumption that I would just give him the $$ because I have taken care of him in the past when he needed things.

I did not give him too much $$ maybe $50 on a couple of occassions, but I did send hella care packages of toiletries and basic needs as well as personal items he left in US, paid a speeding ticket he had in NYS, and used calling cards to call him before he had access to Internet.

Based on this history, I guess he felt I would just give him the money but I did not and I ended things with him after this exchange. I believe DEVIN ELTON THOMPSON thought I was his personal ATM after awhile.

PAGE 1 of 5

3232520E: "I got it repaired but I used my rent money to do it"

PAGE 2 of 5

ME: "Ok so wtf is all this about?"

3232520E: "So if I can't my money from denver tomorrow I will have an issue" (denver is the basketball team DEVIN played for in EL SALVADOR, CENTRAL AMERICA)

3232520E: "Hate your shakiness that is what this is all about"

ME: "U making shit up ME: " Now" ME: "U being shakey"

3232520E: "If u can help me please do" 3232520E: "Ummmm no"

ME: "Yes u are" ME: "Wtf u telling me about some shit's that's already repaired"

3232520E: "I just took 140 dollars to fix it because it is cheaper than mailing it and getting it sent back…."

ME: "That's fine but its done already so y r we even talking about it?"

3232520E: "I just fixed it I'm not even powering it on till I get to the new house"

ME: "Ok"

3232520E: "Because I need help in paying for it"

ME: "I can't help u" ME: "Sorry" ME: "U prob won't get money from me until I feel we r in a different kind of place cause all I'm gonna think is ur going to use the money I give you on someother chick"

(At this point I knew about DEVIN ELTON THOMPSON and 19 year old gf, ELISA VELASQUEZ (he is 30 at this point, I think this is a little gross and borderline pee-dough, 19 is still a baby as far as I am concerned even though I know girls tend to mature faster than boys, but anywho)

I found out DEVIN was "in a relationship" by stumbling upon his relationship status accidentally on Facebook instead of him telling me.

DEVIN was up front about his polyamorous lifestyle before he moved which is why I never fully took things seriously especially since we were long distance as well, I was just having fun for these reasons and some others until I did not want to have fun anymore.

DEVIN ELTON THOMPSON stated he would tell me about such things, these were his words I expected him to stand on them but he didn't, I sat on this information for at least a month at this point.

I was waiting and giving him the chance to tell me like he claimed he would, but he never did so this is where my mind was at at this point and eventually at the end of this conversation, which is somewhere on a computer / usb drive, I basically told him, if you are claiming women on FB, ask them for money, don't call on me from another country when you have a gf right there. Don't try to play me because I thought he and I were better than that)

ME: "If you need something tangible"

3232520E: "Was hoping u would at least go half with me in fixing it since I'm not mailing it anymore…."

ME: "For urself" ME: "I can help but actual $" ME: "Feel funny about it" ………………….

3232520E: "Can u phathom all the negative things I want to say to u right now….."

ME: "I'm sure"

3232520E: "I have a contract to sign tomorrow so I can have a place to live since margarito asked me to move out"

3232520E: "And u have the nerve to downplay my needs to that of money going to some chick" 3232520E: "Right" 3232520E: "Thank u"

ME: "y would u use rent $ to repair ps3" ME: "?"

3232520E: "So much for" 3232520E: "Your understanding"

ME: "Because first of all u lied about the ps3" ME: "?" 3232520E: "I what" ME: "U made it seem like it still needed to be repaired"

3232520E: "I never lie" 3232520E: "I'm done" 3232520E: "Fuck u" ………………. 3232520E: "All u do is urk me"

ME: "Did u not just make it seem as if it still neede to b" ME: "Sent back here"

3232520E: "Every fucking time u bleed"

(So, I had to add some context to this just because I think it's utterly ridiculous and laughable and shows how deeply misogynistic DEVIN ELTON THOMPSON is.

This is a tired ass thing for a man to say to a woman; blame us having a disagreement because I have my period? This is like middle school / high school sh!t; most men don't seem to bypass this maturity level anyway so I suppose I should not have been surprised he would say such a stupid thing that is patently false.

First of all, this is a blanket misogynist statement, while I do acknowledge that as women we go through hormonal changes that can alter our moods in different degrees at any point during our menstrual cycle, not just when we are actually bleeding, but whatever that altered state is, if at all, it varies from woman to woman.

When you have been around me longer than a month then we can talk.

For DEVIN ELTON THOMPSON to put that out there as if its true and as if he knows anything about when I bleed is ridiculous.

I don't recall if I actually had my period during the time of this exchange, based on what I guesstimate to be the date of this exchange it's entirely possible I did have my period but DEVIN ELTON THOMPSON has literally only been around me possibly 1 time during my period if I had my period during the month we hung out in NYC before he moved and if I did I may or may not have hung out with him during this time or for at least part of this time.

If we did hangout, I don't recall him saying anything about "my bleeding" during that period of a little over a month that we physically spent together during SUMMER 2010 and we did not hang out everyday, maybe 2 - 4 days each week, after we met in person about a week or so after we started talking on the phone.

Most of the time we were "hanging out" was spent in 2 different countries.

I met DEVIN ELTON THOMPSON in late MAY 2010 in NYC, DEVIN ELTON THOMPSON moved to EL SALVADOR, CENTRAL AMERICA the first week of JULY 2010. I literally spent about 1 month in DEVIN ELTON THOMPSON'S physical presence, including the 3 day weekend I visited him in NOVEMBER 2010 to celebrate our birthdays together.

DEVIN ELTON THOMPSON has not been around me long enough to know how the hell I am when I bleed.

DEVIN ELTON THOMPSON was basically trying to deflect from his poor decision making and throwing a temper tantrum because I wouldn't give him money; antagonize me for no reason, that will certainly get you what you want, sure….lol.

Additionally, to further point out the obsurdity of DEVIN ELTON THOMPSON'S statement, the 2 actual relationships I have had in my life of which I spent more time with each of them than my hanging out with DEVIN ELTON THOMPSON, neither one of them has ever said anything about my period being a catalyst for an argument / disagreement.

Those men had been around me physically for more than 1 instance of my period. The first relationship was with a man I met shortly after graduating college whom I lost my virginity to, he was around me for at least 12 periods, not once did he ever say you know when you bleed you are this or that or you must have your period why are you are being a b…., etc. lol.

The other relationship lasted for 4 years with an additional year and a half of toxic uncoupling (for more details see any post about WILFRED SHAWN KIRKLADY) You will see the receipts of WILFRED SHAWN KIRKALDY saying some pretty sh!tty, disrespectful, emotionally / verbally abusive things to me and generally doing the most with his extreme and erratic thinking / behavior and the tendancy to attempt to tear down my self esteem with some of his comments, however you won't see him saying anything about everytime I bleed yadda yadda yadda.

I don't recall WILFRED SHAWN KIRKALDY stating that in any of those communications, additional communications that I have not posted, or any verbal argument we ever had.

WILFRED had been around me for at least 60 periods, where at least over a dozen were while we lived together under the same roof, so DEVIN ELTON THOMPSON was basically just pulling sh!t out of his ass because of his emotional immaturity and instability.

And for additional TMI, I can be irritable and more impatient than normal, but not angry irritable (and if I sense that because I have been with myself through many periods obviously, I am in my late 40s and hope to be in perimenopause cause I'm over this annoyance and don't want children so pointless, anywho, I will stay to myself, take some aspirin, if available a heating pad, watch youtube videos, and just lay down and rest especially for the first 2 to 3 days.

I literally don't have all the energy for the nonsense DEVIN ELTON THOMPSON is talking about, DEVIN just wanted to blame me for a problem he created.

I am a sleepy / sluggish / lethargic / bloated / sensitive (romantically and generally), withdrawn, quiet, and prone to shed some tears from watching a scene in a movie or some ish like that period girl, so all this "bleeding" agressive, vindictive bitch energy I was supposedly giving him isn't even my style, maybe its some other woman he was with in the past or present, maybe he got us confused since we all / most of us are interchageable and seem to just be a scapegoat, anatomy to achieve sexual pleasure and / or a money / resource tree for him, and not necessarily a fully fleshed out human being, lol)

3232520E: "No dick"

ME: "For"

3232520E: "I was at the place"

ME: "Me to send it back to sony?

3232520E: " Considering what was my best option" (DEVIN ELTON THOMPSPON'S best option would have been to pay his rent instead of using the money to repair a video game console and trying to get me to pay for it as if he is not a grown ass 30 yr old man with an actual girlfriend in EL SALVADOR, that should be able to help him out if being claimed on Facebook, BTW, a girlfriend that he still at this point had no clue that I knew about and had known about for like a month before this exchange. I was waiting to see if he would tell me outright without me having to prompt it out of him or having to spill the tea myself.

I didn't care about the girlfriend because we were not exclusive and because of the non negotiables he told me about before he moved I never took our situation that seriously, I liked him but not enough to overlook the red flags / dealbreakers; I was just there to have fun and have an experience until I felt it was time to move on.

I only cared that he did not tell me like he stated he would. I approach each person I meet as an individual, if the energy matches my energy and you are cool, easy going like myself, and the energy seems to be positive and not negative then I will rock with you until you show me different.

I was willing to help him out still if he needed help with actual things like toothpaste, socks, etc but no money (basically all the basic toiletries and other basic needs shit I sent to him when he first moved because he appeared to have moved to EL SALVADOR, CENTRAL AMERICA with a wing and a prayer, the clothes on his back and maybe a toothbrush, lol; based on all the stuff he asked for, I purchased and mailed him).

If I could help without putting myself out on some friendship sh!t, like I rock with you because you are a human being that I like and we vibe I was willing to do it but since he was not talking about the things he claimed he was going to be honest about then I can't rock with you no more because you just don't respect me on a basic human level and I have no choice but to think that you are just using me.

I just wanted him to stand by his word and he did not and then tried to turn this whole thing around on me as if I owed him anything in life. I was not his mom, family member, his girlfriend, just some chick he got hooked up with through a mutual acquaintaince less than a year ago.

There must have been a number of people of higher priority level above me that could have helped him out in his time of need)

3232520E: "U calling me a liar" 3232520E: "I just fixed it while I was writing u telling u the cost to send it"

ME: "Ok"

3232520E: "I shouldn't have to explain myself any fucking way"

(DEVIN is asking me for money and claims he does not need to explain himself/ I'm sorry but the audacity of some of these mofos, no shame. In general, not even on some man / woman -ish, if someone asks for money there should be some kind of explanation involved, especially with the information I have in my back pocket.

I'm thinking to myself ask your 19 year old gf, don't ask me. If you are claiming you are in a relationship with someone they should have your back and maybe you don't have to explain yourself to them, idk)

3232520E: "U want to doubt me" 3232520E: "And be a biutch saying money is going to some other bitch" 3232520E: "And u wonder why we ain't in a cool place" 3232520E: "Are you fucking kidding me" 3232520E: "U think this is what I want or expect from someone who loves me" 3232520E: "Can't stop thinking about me" 3232520E: "U r the fucking liar not me"

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