#Harley make him another appointment after the call

[tiredlezbian]

I'm in love with this

Bruce Wayne wakes up in the past, five months after Jason Todd died, and spends most days sat beside the grave because he never found out exactly when Jason had come back and he wanted to be there to save him when he did.

From an outside perspective, everyone is extremely concerned.

[thegeniusofplaytimeco]

Chapter 4: Talk With The Boss

Y/N shows up to talk to Elliot about the death in his family, but Elliot says something completely different and refuses Y/N's request for a time out... tough times call for tough measures. A secret comes out about the old CatNap version. And as if it couldn't get any worse, Y/N knows that the prototype is planning something. Slowly, all the pieces are coming together.

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Yes Hello...Again I will try a little bit to update both fanfictions at the same time, if you haven't seen it yet I have updated my other one too. Have fun reading this chapter.

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Y/N Pov:

Normally a conversation with your boss is not a good thing, you've screwed up or you get fired for Saving money. With Elliot it's completely different, the last time I was called in it was because employees had seen something. Something they shouldn't have seen. I think it's clear what was done with them.

Elliot's office is near the Game Station, at least the official one... He's also got another one in the underground passage to the new leisure park that's being built there. At least that's still a classified secret, but the higher-ups in management already know.

And here I am at last, the red door with his name printed on a golden sign. I slowly lift my arm out of my lab coat and knock on the door, I can hear voices inside and I know immediately who is there. Harley Sawyer and Elliot are talking about Rowan Stoll. The guy has already locked himself in death row, as far as I know he used cameras to spy on us researchers.

As far as I know, there are still documents on my desk about which experiment we should feed him to. I think I'll vote for Boxy, after all Boxy isn't as well known as the main characters and toys, and he'll be hungry. Plus he's one of my favourites.

I knock on the red door, not even a second later I hear a call.

"You can come in" I take the door knob in my hand and turn it to the right, and enter the room. There are pictures everywhere, all painted by the children playing around in the game station. In the centre of the room is a long wooden table, and a little closer to the left is an armchair. Harley is sitting in the armchair, while Elliot is sitting at the work table. On the table is also a golden trophy for a future project. Something about environmental protection and plants, 'So it doesn't matter'.

As soon as Harley sees me, he gets up from his chair and walks to the door. 'He doesn't like me' but that's understandable because before I got the job here he was the best scientist there was, they called him the "Doctor", but when he realised that someone new had been appointed to a role next to the boss he got angry and wanted to know who I was. He tried to get answers from Elliot, but Elliot had an idea. I should be tested.

The Bigger Bodies Initiative had already been set up, but no one, no one managed to make an experiment actually survive, let alone live. I had two hours to turn a terminally ill person into whatever I wanted.Not only did I manage to do it in an hour,but at the same time the experiment is still alive today.  That was Boxy Boo back then, I didn't just prove myself to be the smartest No... The genius arrived. Harley didn't like me but included me in every project from then on. After all, I was now the head of the initiative, but that was two years ago.

He gives me a dirty look as he leaves the room, but I just stare back. Now that the chair is free, I sit down and wait to start the conversation with Elliot. I remember the real reason and my heart starts beating a little faster than usual. The problem is that he has called me without knowing it, so there will be something serious about the experiments.

"Good that you're here so quickly Y/N, there's an important matter we need to discuss..." It's serious, the way he's looking at me, it's about something concerning the whole thing down here.

"Yes, I have something important too, it's about the family" I'll take the conversation slowly, I think I'll try to arrange a couple of weeks off and talk to the family-

"If it's something that needs a leave... That won't work now"           'what?' what does he mean? I have to go to this funeral or I'll neglect everything again.

"How exactly am I supposed to understand that?"

"quite simply Y/N, there's something more important than a death in your family at the moment"

....

What did he just say? My mum was the most important person in my life .... Fucking shit, I need to back off before I beat him to death.

"The prototype.... he wants to help us understand the experiments and everything"

"What?"

"He'll get a human body from you, and then he'll learn from us and Evolve"             Has he lost his Fucking mind? A human body for the prototype? This will not end well, 'But why is he only in favour of this?’ Is he Crazy?

"Why the hell would I do that?!" I don't care if I curse or say anything else, the problem is far too big. And I'm also supposed to make him a human body.

"And I thought you were some kind of...Genius, pfft don't you see the added value we would get from the prototy-"

"The only thing I see here is the shit that's going to happen once this is done, is the prototype somehow your prodigal son or why are you in favor of everything he wants?"           Silence...for the next few seconds, No Minutes. He looks at me as if he's seen a ghost, my eyes are slowly closing and I'm tired of all this shit. Damn... I should have done this much earlier...

"As far as I'm concerned, you can do what you want with that thing...But I...I'm out" I said it....

I get out of my seat and look at Elliot again, he looks completely disbelieving when I said it. Who's in charge of the experiments now, or the scientists? Well, not me anymore. I stand by the door and don't look back, even though it might be the last time I see him here. I reach for the door knob and pull the door open. Outside, a couple of employees come straight towards me and want to speak to me. I don't even look them in the face, 'You're scum'.

I don't really understand what's going on with me but... I like it. I didnt feel like this for a long time.      I haven't really paid attention to the family for a long time, except when I've sent most of my salary there. Instead, I've turned innocent people into monsters here in this pit of hell, that was now. From now on I live for what I want and not for some idiot.

I'm about to go to the lab to get my stuff when I see something on a camera that I didn't expect. The prototype is no longer in its cell Shit, where did that thing go? I have to get out of hereIt's going to happen soon, all the experiments are planning something, and I know they're going to kill them scientists. Something like a riot, the prototype will have planned it. There are only a few victims of my experiments who are mentally ready to understand me and act. The ones I school the most are definitely the smilling critters. I haven't even told Elliot, but the cartoon edition of CatNap, as a normal Fired critter, is hidden by me in a lab. I was able to hide it at the last moment, and use Theodore to fool everyone... Even Elliot.

I have to get them out of here and go into hiding. Elliot will also hunt me down because I'm out. Damn...I have to act as fast as possible now, while thinking my body moves automatically and I'm already back at the management elevator. I look down slowly and take my cell phone out of my lab coat pocket. It's late, the working day is about to end, so I have to do everything I can to get out of here with the critters.

The doors of the elevator open with a loud squeak and I go in quickly. When I think back to everything I've done so far... Why should the critters trust me? I have to keep going, even if a few don't come with me I have an idea how to get them to. After all, what's most important to them is still with me and I can give them some kind of gift.

Damn I want to call Rin and cry...tell him how sorry I am that I've never been there all these years. But I'm not allowed to do that here. I don't want to admit it but I know I've been showing emotion since that conversation with Elliot, even if it's just my mouth hanging down. In all the years I've worked here so far, I've never once smiled.... But right now, in this moment, I can feel it. It's running down my face.

So off I go again to Playcare. I have to convince the critters to come with me and then leave without anyone noticing.

[starshipsofstarlord]

Dove

Pairing | Roman Sionis x reader

Summary | there is another little birdie that Roman spends his time with, one that coos away from the spotlight and remains hidden. She is his dove, the love that he refrains from sharing with anyone, a prisoner that does not realised that she is locked in a cage.

Warnings | mentions of violence, can be perceived as imprisonment of reader or not if you want, difficulty with getting pregnant, swearing

Requested ✖️

Quick link to my masterlist, if you’re interested in reading more of my crap 😬

Canary walked into the apartment of the boss, nervous to begin her first day at being Roman Sionis’ driver. Initially, the woman hadn’t been sure what to expect of the living space above the club, she suspected that it would be in a similar

She hadn’t asked for a promotion, the woman was content with bellowing her voice in stage, singing like a bird. But now, as a consequence for protecting the Harley Quinn, she was now a driver, a replacement for the one that no longer had the ability to move a vehicle from place to place.

Sionis’ home if it could be called that, was above the club, perched as a nest so that the man behind it all could see everything that occurred around. The windows, large and perfect for viewing out of, were great scopes out into the bustling city, to which the Black Mask brought some fear out into.

He was a killer, that was known. A torturer, a face that Gotham feared. It was merely circumstance for how Dinah ended up working for him in the first place. It was not at all what she had been aiming for, the singing gig was as far as she had assumed she would get, but now, she was starting a new and more personal job for the same scheming man.

But it appeared that she was not the only dame in Gotham that was given the request to walk into the home of Roman Sionis, for a lavished and well clothed woman stood, staring like a songbird out towards the outside world. Her eyes were cast down, surely watching the commotion that riled the streets on a daily basis.

“Ah, there you are.” The voice belonging to Roman Sionis abruptly made Dinah inwardly jump, though she didn’t allow the surprise to dictate to her body. Instead, she turned around to face the mobster, adjoined by Victor that followed after hun, an shrewd smile ragged on his face. “My new driver, are you ready for your first day.”

“Singing was kinda my thing but -“ she watched his expression fade to one folded with creases and instead plastered on a smile, quickly changing the direction of her sentence, “yes, I am. I’m not the worst driver, though, it was a shame of what happened to the last one, concerning the fault of Harley Quinn.”

Sionis rolled his eyes at the mention of the jester like woman, making a noise of disgust, before adding details to Canary’s perception. “He deserved it, that man was bound to get into trouble somewhen, the only difference is that he kept his face. He had a frequent thirst to make my dove uncomfortable, isn’t that right my lovely?”

The woman faced away from the window, glancing convincingly towards the man that had just spoken to her. Not saying a word, she nodded, feeling all the eyes except her own that were present within the premises of the room were on her. It wasn’t much different to normal, but it was a vow she had taken, she did not speak to anyone besides Roman.

Doves mated for life, and within their relationship, she insisted that she treat him the same, which was where the nickname that she had so idly been called had originated from. She was loyal to this man, who was powerful and wealthy all on his own, and that proved alone that she needed nothing more than him to be the centre of the world.

“Hi, I’m Dinah.” She attempted to greet herself, but all that she earned from the spoilt woman was a blank stare, as though she were processing the woman. “Is she okay?” Her question was directed towards either or out of the men, and assumed, it was one of them whom responded instead of her.

“Y/n.” Her eyes snapped up to meet his own, and inside, her stomach crawled as she looked up into his stern gaze. To her relief, he turned back to Dinah, after dismissing her of the title of a white bird, and striking an induction of anxiety within her gut. “She doesn’t speak to anyone, it is difficult for her to trust anyone, let alone exchange worlds with them. Is that not right dove?”

Biting her lip, to reduce the sounds of whimpers that were threatening to spill from her mouth, she stiffly nodded her head, causing a grin to smother the man’s face. “Today, Canary, you will be taking me and y/n to the clinic, we have an important appointment to attend to, is that not right my lovely girl?”

Again she nodded, feeling a pit of happiness swell in the space of her womb. She could feel her dreams moving closer to the reality that she silently lived in, the things that she greatly wanted within her reach.

“I’ll go and start the car.” Dinah announced, wanting nothing more to leave the room. The atmosphere had not at all been uncomfortable in the slightest, but it was strange to see the extraordinary owner of the club that she had worked up appear so domesticated. Though, she thought y/n to be anything but, it was as though she were scared to allow any truths to mumble from her dormant tongue.

She was sure that no one in the entire city had seen the woman out in the open and free. It would not be a surprise if she were imprisoned in that apartment, though it was confusing, for it did not seem like she wanted to leave. Instead, it appeared as though she was scared of anyone else that was not Roman.

Usually, people usually feared him, knowing full well of what he was capable of. Though, instead, y/n was comfortable in his presence, which was one strange thing out of many. Dinah was extracted from her thoughts as the back doors suspended open, the happy couple entering the vehicle, and adjusting their seat belts. “Which clinic?” She asked, glancing back in the rear view mirror at the pair.

Roman had his gloved hands trailing up the thighs of his dove, as though they were sleek platforms of ice, and his fingers were dancing upon the frozen surface. “The one around south, a few miles before that place that sells the terrible artwork.” His taste in everything gave have her an initial and well acquainted idea with what place that he was on about, and thus she started the vehicle.

The strong woman remained in silence, copying y/n’s frequent behaviour as she drove, noticing her small gestures towards the elder man. Her nose rubbed around his collar, directly breathing in the fog of his aftershave, which Dinah could smell already from the distance of the front seat. Though, it appeared sweet as the pair brushed specks of stray hairs out of the others eyes, and padded down their blazers.

Finally, the driver stopped, watching as the pair abandoned the vehicle, and went inside of the small corporative building, hand in hand. Roman’s grip was much tougher than her own, squeezing all human feeling out of her palm, half dragging her inside. Both seemed to appear eager for what lay inside, though, Dinah did not share their enthusiasm.

She had no idea of how long they would be within the clinic, and thus, she had to wait for their return before she could steer and leave. Absentmindedly, she picked the skin around her nails as she waited for Roman and y/n to come back out to the car, the wait feeling like forever as she put on the radio, bobbing her head subtly the tune that she often heard on nights out.

The driver was fast to snap her head up as she heads footsteps, and they belonged to her cruising passengers, that seemed rather deflated. Their once relaxed and worry free mood was nowhere in sight, and instead, when opening the door for y/n and climbing in afterwards, he slammed the expensive door, crossing his arms in thought.

“Is everything okay boss?” She warily asked, feeling as his eyes sent daggers towards her once she used her voice. He released a prominent scoff, shaking his head disappointedly at her enquiry. Roman repeated her question to himself, arrogantly laughing at it.

“No it’s fucking not! I don’t ask for anything, I do what I am supposed to, and the world cannot even let my dove bare my child!” He sulked in his seat, pouting profusely out the window as he once again took in the truth behind his words.

Dinah knew better than to speak, and instead left Roman and his endless rant uninterrupted. Though, as she adjusted the rear view mirror, she caught a glimpse of y/n, smirking quite pleased with the state that her lover had gotten into. It slightly scared Canary, finding the situation that she was mulling over to be silent but deadly.

So far, it was all quite clear. She did not want to carry the child of the business man, and the results that she had received were anything but a curse. She liked to think of them more as a godsend and a blessing.

[berriusagi]

Stomach Bug Ch10

Doctor’s Visit

Alright I am back with another chapter and with this I bring something special. I want all of you to help me decide what our lovely Mari will be having so place your votes in the poll. 

LINK REMOVED

Thank you to everyone who voted I’ll be using the results gathered and I hope everyone’s happy with what the final tally was.

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“Damian’s not home right?” Tim asked, making his way into the Batcave where all the other bats sans Damian were sitting around the computer.

“No, tomorrow’s pixies first appointment with that new doctor so he decided to stay the night to give her moral support since she’s never been to a gyno before.” Jason said looking up from the files he was reading over, “honestly from what I’ve heard about what happens during those exams I don’t blame her for wanting a little support before going.”

“It’s all routine and can’t be any worse than the baby-making process.” Dick hummed typing away on the computer.

“I think that’s enough talk about that; why did you want to know Tim?” Bruce asked looking over at his second youngest.

“I found more info on Marinette thought I’d share with you all while Damian wasn’t here to stop me or compromise the data,” he explained walking over to the bat computer connecting his laptop to it.

The other men all sat silently around waiting for Tim to begin his presentation as he sorted through different encrypted files before bringing up a few pictures. “To begin her original name was Marinette Dupain-Cheng and her parents were bakers back in France, Tom Dupain and Sabine Cheng,” Tim said pointing them out.

“Marinette told me they essentially kicked her out,” Bruce said crossing his arms, “They believed the words of some liar and threw her out. She lived with a friend her last year in Paris before moving here.”

“Wait, hold on,” Dick said turning to Bruce, “Her parents kicked her out when she was still a minor? Isn’t that illegal?”

“Yes, and they knew that, she mentioned that when she told her grandmother she came and took custody from her parents, who seemed more than happy to hand it over, and let her stay to finish out that school year with a friend then moved here to finish out her schooling.” Bruce nodded.

“Yeah that all tracks to what I found,” Tim nodded, showing them documents next, “I have here the transfer of custody, her transcript for moving here, as well as the adoption papers for Ivy and Harley. I also went ahead and started running some background checks on the people still in her phone.” he added typing away.

“Anyone, we should be worried about?” Jason asked leaning back in his seat content to just watching Tim work, “She told me a bit about one of her friends’ guy seemed a bit sketch when he was a Paris hero though now I think he’s meh but never got a name from her.”

“You said he was one of the heroes?” Tim asked looking over at Jason.

“Yeah, she said he gave up his miraculous after the fight because his dad was the villain and he didn’t think Ladybug would want anything to do with him if she found out who he was so he bit the bullet and gave it up. He left Paris shortly after to live with his aunt.” Jason said looking around at the others.

“If the villain were outed then it’d be easy to find out who his son was,” Tim said, turning back to the computer the clicking of keys filling the Batcave as he searched through multiple French websites. The other three just watched as screen after screen flew by before settling on a trashy tabloid-like website.

“I don’t think this is what could be considered a credible source Timmy,” Dick winced looking over all the clickbait titles and the like to dislike ratio on the articles.

“No, but it does have quite a bit on the Paris heroes,” Tim said scrolling through to articles that had more likes and seemed of better quality, “here we go, Hawkmoth Defeated: How a Recluse Held Paris Hostage.”

The four men all leaned forward reading through the article that detailed the final battle between Hawkmoth and the Paris Heroes with a written description of what happened as well as a video that seemed to have been taken from a mix of sources and spliced together. The article detailed what Hawkmoth had been doing for three years and in the end, revealed him and his accomplice to be Gabriel Agrest and his assistant Nathalie Sancoeur.

“So we know that Gabriel Agrest was the big bad so who was his kid?” Jason asked as Tim typed away.

“Adrien Agrest, teen model for the Agrest Fashion Label. Looks like after his dad got taken down he had to go through months of interrogations and court hearings just to prove his innocence. His mother was found dead in the Agrest Mansion and with no one else it looks like his aunt took him in once he was cleared.” Tim said reading through the files he dug up.

“That would mean he probably gave his miraculous to Pixie right after he was cleared. If he was going to do something sketch he’d just hold onto it.” Jason said.

“He probably was so messed up after the battle he didn’t want any connection to the miraculous I mean his father turned evil because of them.” Dick hummed crossing his arms.

The four fell silent as they took in the information they had received, “Well Tim you got anything on that liar?” Jason asked, tilting his head.

“This whole blog is about that liar.” Tim said motioning to the tabloid, “I’ll email you guys the link and read it at your own pace there is years of garbage on here.”

“Then with that, I think we should all be heading out. We'll go over more of what Tim found later for now we should get to work,” Bruce said, getting to his feet and moving to change into his costume.

The other three nodded as Tim packed up his laptop and stored it away before they all got dressed and took their way out of the cave to begin their nightly rounds.

~.~.~.~

“So what do you think they found?” Marinette asked cuddled up to Damian's side on her bed with the hyenas crowded around them on either side resting their heads over their laps, “Chloe didn’t exactly hold back on mentioning certain names.”

“I would be surprised if Drake didn’t have an entire dossier on all your friends.” Damian said rubbing Marinette’s back, “You know he probably took all your contact info right?”

“Yeah oh well,” she shrugged turning to bury her face into his neck, “They were bound to find out eventually, might as well let some of the greatest detectives around have some fun piecing my life together.”

Damian hummed closing his eyes as he relaxed back into the plush pillows covering Marinette’s bed, “Are you nervous about tomorrow?” he asked.

“A little,” she sighed tightening her grip on his shirt, “Mum told me what to expect and said she’d sit in the room with me if I wanted her to, you can’t exactly join me since we can’t have this whole thing getting out.”

“I’ll be waiting here for you when you get home don’t worry,” he said kissing her forehead, “now try to get some sleep you barely got any at the manor.”

Marinette nodded letting out a deep sigh as she shifted around to get comfortable between Damian and the hyenas. Eventually, she settled down and dozed off into a dreamless sleep with Damian rubbing her back and the familiar weight of Bud’s head on her hip.

Damian stayed up for a bit longer listening to the quiet sounds around and thinking over what to do for the next day. He eventually made his way into a dreamless sleep as well a bit after one AM when he finally managed to shut his mind off.

~.~.~.~

“Marigold are you ready?” Ivy called from the kitchen as she looked through her back to make sure she had everything.

“Almost,” Marinette said, coming out in a comfortable knit sweater and skinny jeans, “I was looking for my purse. I think Lou took it,” she said, looking around in the usual spots for her bag.

“I’ll keep your wallet and Tiki in my bag we have to get going,” Ivy said, grabbing Marinette’s wallet off the counter and stowing it in her bag as Tiki flew over and settled into the bag as well giving Ivy a nod to close the bag once she was comfortable.

Marinette nodded and went back to her room grabbing her phone quickly checking it before putting it away in her pocket and leaned down kissing Damian’s cheek as he groaned slowly blinking his eyes open. “I’m leaving I’ll text you when we’re on our way back.”

“Okay habibti call me if you need me.” he yawned reaching up and pulled her down for a kiss, “good luck with your appointment I’ll see you after.”

Marinette nodded kissing him again as Ivy shouted for Marinette that they were leaving. She gave Damian another quick peck on the lips before pulling back and ran out to meet Ivy at the door. “Had to get my phone.” she smiled stepping out of the apartment and waited as Ivy locked up and ushered down to the cab waiting outside.

“Now remember Marigold just relax and everything will go smoothly, it will be uncomfortable but it won’t hurt okay.” Ivy said, settling into the cab beside Marinette and rubbing her back, “I can sit inside the room with you if need me to.”

“I think I’ll be okay,” Marinette said, taking a few calming breaths as they made their way to the doctor’s office. Once they arrived Marinette was starting to look a little green as they went through the check-in process and filled out their info.

Waiting for her name to be called felt like an eternity and her stomach was twisting into knots as she watched other women come and go through the office. Marinette sat there twisting her fingers in her sweater and took slow deep breaths trying to calm herself when the door opened, “Marinette?” a nurse called.

Marinette shot up her face going from pale to a deep red as she made her way to the nurse. The nurse smiled and ushered her inside and went about getting her blood pressure, “Hmm little elevated but I think it could just be your nerves.” the nurse smiled, and her height and weight.

“Alright girly so here’s your room I’m going to need you to completely strip down underwear and all then put this paper gown on opening to the front and here’s a privacy blanket for your legs.” the nurse said motioning to the items on the bed, “the doctor will be in here shortly.”

Marinette nodded as the nurse closed the door leaving her alone, “It’s just a check-up.” Marinette mumbled undressing and taking her time to carefully fold her clothes and set them on the table in the corner of the room. She put on the provided gown and settled on the table keeping her phone clenched tightly in her hand as she waited for the doctor to arrive.

It felt like an eternity when there was a knock at the door and the doctor stepped in, a petite redhead with a smattering of freckles covering her pale face, “Hello Miss Marinette I’m Doctor Amelia.” she smiled coming over to shake Marinette’s hand, “I see you’re here for a wellness exam and you’re expecting.”

“Uh yes,” Marinette coughed her voice, cracking a bit from her nerves, “I uh just found out a few weeks ago.” she blushed, gripping the paper blanket covering her legs.

Doctor Amelia nodded looking over the file, “This is your first-ever wellness exam yes?” she asked, taking a seat.

Marinette nodded keeping her head bowed trying to not let her nerves take over her.

“Okay sweetie we’ll go at your pace so just relax okay.” Doctor Amelia smiled setting the file aside and grabbed her stethoscope.

~.~.~.~

The entire exam didn’t take more than five minutes before the doctor was cleaning up and stepping out to give Marinette some privacy to redress. Marinette wasted no time pulling her clothes back on and sending Damian a text saying, ‘Making this baby was less violating than that.’ before putting her phone in her pocket as there was another knock, “Miss Marinette if you're ready you can go to the front and schedule the next appointment.” Doctor Amelia said through the door.

Marinette walked over opening the door her face still a bit flushed, “Okay uh when should I come back next?” she asked.

“I think in a month should be enough time and we should be able to hear the heartbeat by then.” she smiled, “Your moms waiting for you upfront, and here’s the card to one of my nurses if you have any questions feel free to call her okay.”

“Thank you.” Marinette nodded, taking the card and quickly went to the front to meet back up with Ivy and schedule the next appointment and made their way out to walk back home.

“I think we should pick up some breakfast.” Ivy smiled putting a hand on Marinette’s shoulder as they walked. “There’s a nice little bakery around the corner should we pick up something from there?”

“Yeah, that sounds good.” Marinette nodded following Ivy down to the bakery and got in line looking over the different pastries they had for sale. Between the two of them, they picked out an array of sweet and savory options with Marinette making sure to pick out some vegetarian options for Damian. Soon they were walking out with two large bags and were walking down the street back to their home.

Upon entering both had to hold their bags of treats high out the reach of Bud and Lou trying hard to reach the goodies hidden away. Harley quickly came over pulling them back by their collars so the two could set the bags down in the kitchen.

Damian was settled at the table and got up coming over to help them unpack as Harley got some coffee and tea going as they all settled down to enjoy a bit of a late breakfast. Marinette ate her croissants and fruit danish taking small bites so as not to upset her stomach any further. The small group spoke of anything and everything as they enjoyed their meal. Harley taking the time to pick out the meat from her sandwich to give to the two hyenas and Damian holding a small conversation with Tiki as she munched on the cookies Marinette picked out.

“So when are you going back?” Harley asked looking over at Marinette as she bit into her bagel.

“In a month, the doctor said we should be able to hear the heartbeat by then,” Marinette said, finishing off her danish, “I don’t know if I’m ready.”

“You’ll be fine Marigold we’re here for you every step.” Ivy smiled ruffling her hair, “Now I think you should go lay down, maybe settle your stomach and your nerves. You were looking a bit green and tense after your appointment.”

Marinette nodded, finishing her tea and croissant before heading back to her room to lay down. Damian finished off his breakfast quickly and excused himself before following Marinette leaving the two sirens and the small goddess at the table.

“At least he’s good for our little Mari.” Harley hummed sipping her coffee, “So long as he makes her happy he can stick around I guess but not too sure I forgive him for knocking our baby up.”

“Oh, now you don’t like him?” Ivy chuckled, raising her eyebrow at her.

“Oh, I adore the kid but you know one of us has to give him the shovel talk eventually.” Harley chuckled getting up to clean the dishes and put the leftovers away.

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@myazael @beautiful-disasters-sunshine @moonlightstar64 @moonlitceleste @stainedglassm  @casual-darkness @mochegato @ultimatetornshipper @heemsanddamemes @nathleigh @qualitypeacepainter @raven-frost-21 @maskedpainter @demonicbusiness @dood-space @trippingovermyfeet @emimar7 @indecisive-mess-named-me @changelinggarden @zerotosiki @alysrose-starchild @s-and-n @wolf2118 @athena452 @jjmjjktth @eliza-bich @solangelo252 @icerosecrystal @heinrode @Junarvion

@babylovebug18 @animegirlweeb @corporeal-terrestrial

[twokinkybeans]

Touch Me, Please [Starker Fic] Pt.3

Summary: Tony Stark has never told anyone that he’s still a virgin. He doesn’t want to sleep with people who only want him because of his outward persona. So instead, he hires an escort. Things get a little more heated than either of them had expected. Tags/Warnings: Escort!Peter, Virgin!Tony, nff, nsfw, sexual tension, teasing, Peter is 22, Tony is 53, oral sex, 69. Taglist: @starkerswonderland @staticwhispersinthedark @starkerprince @parkers-stark​ @bluestarker (let me know if you want to be added!)

Notes: I CAN'T BELIEVE IT'S BEEN 2 MONTHS SINCE I POSTED FOR THIS I'M SO SORRY ABOUT THE WAIT Y'ALL!!! I come bearing good news though! This was supposed to have three parts, but the plot started living its own life and now we're definitely having a fourth part as well ehehehe. Hope y'all enjoy! -Kim

Read the fic here on AO3

Or click here to find the previous chapters: Chapter 1 Chapter 2

-

Peter knows he’s fucked. Absolutely, terribly, fucked.

And to be honest… Even that’s an understatement.

Peter clutches his coat tighter and fastens his pace. He’s snuck out of the enormous labyrinth that’s Tony’s home, and is now on his way to the bureau’s HQ. It’s still early in the morning, a little over 7 am, and Peter hopes to catch one of his managers before they start their meeting.

Peter made a grave mistake, and all he can do is spill it all out and pray that he can keep his job. He’s had unsafe sex with a customer. If there’s one thing that he should pay close attention to, it’s that. He never made a mistake like this before. However, with Tony, he completely threw his cool and composed sugar baby persona out the door; his mind lost to the wealthy man he only met last night. Tony may claim to be a virgin, which according to his eager yet sloppy techniques isn’t too hard to believe, but still. Peter shouldn’t have risked it.

He eyes the building in front of him and hesitates. He could just get a test done without his bosses knowing; play sick until he gets the results. But if they were to find out… He’d lose his job for sure. And contrary to popular belief, he’s not in the industry just for the money. He likes his career. 

In good faith, Peter steps forward and presses the doorbell.

-

Tony wakes up when a golden glow casts over his body. He smiles groggily. In his haze last night, he must’ve forgotten to close the curtains. He sighs and turns around, grabbing the sheets to tug them up a little higher. Slowly, the surroundings are getting to him. The distant sound of traffic rushing through the busy streets of NYC. The buzz of the elevator as it sweeps past his floor...

...and the complete lack of another human’s breath.

Tony swallows and his eyes flutter open. A harsh sting rips through his chest when he sees his bed is indeed empty.  “Peter?” He calls out, half-heartedly expecting an answer but not at all surprised when it stays dead silent.

-

It’s safe to say that the following days, Tony is in such a sour mood that his employees nearly cringe each time he walks across the room. He should’ve never hired an escort to have his first-ever sexual encounter with. The plan was destined to fail from the get-go, and it had. 

“Tony?”

Tony turns around to find Pepper standing in the doorway of his private office. Pepper has been his personal assistant for years now, and he is aware that he wouldn’t survive a single day without her skills in his company. She’s seen his worst more often than not - and she doesn’t deserve to be the one to take his anger - but Tony can’t help but glare. “What?” “Jeez, they were right. You’re a fucking asshole today.” Pepper says calmly and raises her eyebrows as she closes the door behind her. Tony can feel some of the tension fade from his posture and he casts his eyes down.

“What happened?” She proceeds to ask. Tony shrugs. How could he tell her? “I did something stupid.” “I figured as much.” The PA places a stack of files onto his desk and sits down in the chair opposite of him. “Personal troubles, or Stark Industries-related?” “Personal.” “Ah, good. That’s one less of a worry.”

Tony glares again, but this time it’s more playful. Pepper smirks. “Gotcha,” she hums, seemingly pleased with herself. “Now, tell me what happened.” “I can’t.” “I’m sure you can, it’s-” “It’s too embarrassing, Pep. Please, I gotta deal with this by myself.” Pepper raises her eyebrow at his words and leans onto the wooden surface.  “Then deal with it before you drag Stark Industries into whatever it is.” She shoves the stack of paper forward and smiles faintly. “After you deal with these, of course.”

“Of course.”

-

It’s late in the evening, and Tony swirls the whiskey around in his glass. He finished the work right before dinnertime and decided to take the rest of the night off.

Deal with it.

Tony snorts. How could he? Peter left. It’s plain and simple that the kid didn’t want to stay. His pretty, sweet words had been nothing but lies and deception, and Tony feels like a goddamn fool for falling for the act. Peter is an escort. Pleasing people, telling them what they want to hear, it’s his job. Tony can’t blame him. He only blames himself.

Yet, it doesn’t keep him from grabbing his phone and navigating towards the escort website. He sniffs once, finding his way to the catalog. It should be easy to find Peter. Right? Tony scrolls down the list and frowns when he hits the bottom of the page. Mmh. He scrolls back up and sits a little more upright when he can’t seem to find Peter’s picture. He taps the search bar and types in his name.

No results found.

In a wave of panic, Tony types out the bureau’s number to contact them and waits anxiously. He has no intention of bothering Peter ever again, but now that it seems he vanished, it makes him feel strangely panicked. As if every link he had to the boy is simply gone. As if nothing ever happened.

Except something did happen.

“Good evening, this is Eva. How may I help you?” “Uhmm- Hi. It’s Mr. Stark. I’m, eh, I’m looking to book Peter again? He was here last night?” “Oh, I’m terribly sorry to inform you, sir, but I’m afraid Peter is temporarily unavailable. I could put you on the waiting list for when he returns?” “Please.”

And like a stupid idiot, he disconnects straight after. He sniffs and lowers his phone. He wonders if he just made another mistake.

-

Peter sucks at his teeth, his foot restlessly tapping onto the floor. He looks at his scheduled bookings and stares at the one empty spot. There’s only one client left to call, but Peter doesn’t know if he should. After a long tirade, and thankfully, a negative STD test, he’s back in the game and good to go. But, if he couldn’t keep himself together last time… He’s not sure if it’d be professional to go back to Tony.

Sweet, innocent, handsome Tony.

“Hey,” Harley pokes his head past Peter’s shoulder and grins. “I see you’re free tonight. My pal Dave is throwing a party at the Frizzles. Wanna come?” Peter rolls his eyes at his coworker and grins. “And get Dave to hopelessly flirt with me again? No, thank you.” “Oh, come on!” Harley throws his hands into the air in desperation. “Dave is your type!” “He’s not,” Peter grumbles, nearly shuddering at the idea. “Good fella, but no, not for me. Y’know I’m into rich old classy dudes. Heck, so are you!” “Hey, no need to attack me.” Harley lowers his bum on the edge of Peter’s desk and cocks his head. “You barely ever have a night off. Don’t you wanna have some fun? I’ll try and keep Dave off your back.” “Well…” Peter sighs and stares back at the empty spot in his schedule.

“I actually have a client.” “What do you mean?” “It’s the last free spot, and I have one more client to secure a booking with me. I just…” Harley frowns, his face displaying a sudden seriousness. “Peter, did this client hurt you?” “What? No!” “Then why are you looking all gloomy at the mere thought of that one client? Is he- Did he force you to not use protection? Peter, we can have him blacklisted, and-” “It’s not at all like that, please Harls, I promise.” “Then tell me why the fuck you’re so strange about it. You’re never strange around clients. Fuck ‘em, get them hooked for more and tadaa, that’s a healthy clientele, it’s how you taught me.”

Peter groans out loud in frustration and shoves his chair back a little, trying to distance himself from the scribbled down phone number at his desk. “I like him!” “What?” “I… I like him. Dammit. He’s really fucking different than the rest of them. I’ve only slept with him once, but he’s got me hooked, not the other way around.” “Then why’d he call us again? Eva told me he sounded pretty nervous.”

Peter’s face loses all color when Harley’s words crash down on him, crumbling the reality he’d build around himself. “No, no Harley, don’t enable me on this one. It’s bad luck. I shouldn’t do it.” Peter scrunches his nose. “Tell Dave I’ll be at the party.”

Harley simply grins, his eyes glimmering mischievously as if there’s something only he knows and Peter doesn’t. “Sure thing.”

-

It’s been two weeks since the damned party. Peter doesn’t feel any better about himself. As expected, Dave had followed him around all evening. Harley, traitor he is, was nowhere to be found. In the end, Peter couldn’t take it anymore, and he straight up told Dave he wasn’t interested. Thank god the lad took it pretty well, but it doesn’t make Peter feel any less shitty about it.

Peter really should just focus on his job and put his mind away from both Dave and Tony. It’s for the best. He sighs and stares at the next appointment on his list. The name is hidden, a feature they have for clients who are high in on their privacy. Peter sighs and grabs his car keys to go to the appointment. 

-

Tony’s tapping his foot anxiously while he tries not to stare at the elevator. It’s needless to say he’s not doing a very good job at doing so. Peter’s going to be here again. Oh, God. Tony can’t shake the feeling that maybe he shouldn’t have accepted the booking when Peter’s coworker called him.

[kittylaboo]

HC: Peter Parker didn’t know he was Bi until Harley Keener

So this took a turn I wasn’t expecting, also it’s a lot longer than I was expecting I’m sorry also Idk how to do the cut thing so my bad  

 TW: Mentions of Rape

Okay so Peter Parker is *Straight*

He likes girls, really likes girls

He literally went on a date with Liz (it may have ended with her moving away bc he put her dad in jail but that’s besides the point)

And he may have had a brief crush on MJ 

So Peter Parker is *Straight*

Boys are gross, and trust Peter he knows

He doesn’t ever want to think of men in a sexual matter

He 10/10 supports anyone who comes out to him 

But anytime he thinks about how boys could possibly be into him, his brain immediately goes to Skip Wescott 

And how Peter was 9 when it started and that he never wants to be in a position like that again

It was horrible and scary, and Peter Parker likes women and only women, and he will never be anyone’s Skip. And he will never put himself in a position where there can be another Skip.

So Peter Parker thinks men suck. 

(Obviously beside Ned and Mr Stark, they’re cool, but Peter has known Ned forever and Mr Stark is literally a super hero, and Peter only became such a huge fan of Iron Man and Tony Stark because of what happened)

His therapist tells him it was his way of coping with what happened 

Then one day Happy picks Peter up at school on an non-lab day because Mr. Stark has someone that he wants Peter to meet

Peter really hopes its the Black Widow (because they’re both spider themed heroes !! how cool !!!)

Peter meets Mr Stark and this mystery person in the living room

Mr Stark introduces Peter Parker to Harley Keener

Harley Keener looks hot good, hes tall and wears a leather jacket and cowboy boots with skinny jeans. He looks so out of place, but he doesn’t look bothered by it either

Peters heart skips a beat, but Peter chalks it up to be anxiety 

“Hey there Peter, I’m Harley”

Oh my god he has an accent, an actual southern accent

And doesn’t that just make Peters heart race 

“Tony here tells me you’re a real Einstein” He laughed

Harley laughed. Peter is not laughing

Peter hears his blood rushing, and feels himself go cold. His spidey-sense is just going off

Peter looks to Mr Stark whose smile falters at the look of pure-fear on Peters face

Mr Stark doesn’t know. Peter never told him. Any files about what happened never include Peters name, or any family members name, so Mr Stark wouldn’t have stumbled on it, unless he went into Peter’s Therapists notes, which he hasn’t because he may be nosy but he isn’t invasive 

Peter knows what this is, he knows he’s going into a panic attack. He was triggered and he needs to get out. Out out out before anything can happen

“So-sorry, I’ve gotta, I gotta go, something came up wi-with May. It was um, it was nice meeting you Harley.”

Peter left, and made it back home, though he doesn’t remember how he made it from Manhattan to Queens and into his apartment.

He’s home and it’s not the safest place, can’t go into his bedroom but it’s better than there

Tony beat him to the apartment (without Harley), already sitting with May when Peter walks in

May is quick to give Peter his favourite over-sized sweater (it makes him feel safe) sitting him down in the living room, putting a knit blanket over him, and giving a bottle of water. 

“Pete, you okay kid?” Mr Stark asks 

And Peter is fine, he always has been, so he nods 

“Do you want to talk about why you were triggered into a panic attack” His voice is soft as he speaks to Peter, like Peter would break

May sits next to Peter, pulling him into her 

“Adrian Toomes was not the first person Spider-Man sent to jail” Peter started the story like this because it was easier to tell it, his therapist may not be happy with it but she’ll be happy he’s making progress by telling some

“Spider-Man was 11 when he sent his first person to jail. It was a year long trial, one kid versus one 18 year old. He used to call Spider-Man, Einstein”

Peter seemed to be done with his explanation after this, deeming it enough information for Tony to understand what happened

It wasn’t 

But May sending a text that said “Search Skip Wescott” gave Tony the opportunity to find out what happened later 

(Tony is really pissed when he reads what happens, and makes sure Skip get transferred to worst prison and that he can never leave)

“Okay, Pete, I’ll talk to Harley about not calling you that. But Harley will be going to the same school as you, okay? That’s why I wanted you two to meet.”

After that first night Peter goes back to being his usual chipper self

And Harley starts at Midtown 

Peter was just rounding the corner outside of the school to see Harley getting dropped off by Happy

After a moment of hesitation Peter went up to Harley and offered to help him on his first day (because Peter will not let his overwhelming fear take over and he will be friendly for the sake of Mr Stark and that is all)

Despite Peter’s uneasiness and distrust Peter and Harley get on like a house on fire

Peter started to feel really close to Harley, and Harley would often throw his arm around Peter’s shoulder and call him things like sugar, or sweet thing or darling

And Peter liked that a lot, except he didn’t because it was weird (but he really did)

And Peter would always go tomato red whenever Harley was around

Even Ned and MJ recognized the crush Peter had on Harley and vice versa

“Dude when are you going to make a move on him?”

“What the fuck, Ned? I’m straight, Harley and I are friends”

“Peter are you being serious right now? You both obviously have a crush on each other. Harley knows you like him too.”

“The fuck MJ, I expected you to be more understanding about this. We are friends. Maybe I come off as gay to you because I choose to respect people and am not the exact definition of a ‘toxic male,’ but I don’t fucking like you guy assuming that I like men. Men ain’t shit and I’m not going to find myself in another situation like I used too. I like women”

“What’s your issue Peter? You homophobic now? Didn’t peg you as that.”

“Fuck MJ, this isn’t your business. I’m an ally, people love who they love, but I don’t like men, and you need to stop pushing that on me. I have my reasons, you have yours.”

“Peter, the way you’re going off on MJ isn’t really helping your point much-”

“Would the two of you just shut up about this. I don’t like other guys. Women are it for me. I will not be stuck under another man. Fuck, I’m straight and you need to stop pushing the idea that I’m into Harley just because you want me to live out your little fantasies of what my life should be like.”

Peter didn’t talk to them the rest of the day. Not because he was angry but because he was embarrassed that he said too much 

At the tower Peter and Harley were cuddled together sitting next to each other watching Brooklyn Nine-Nine and talking

Peter really loved Harley’s Blue eyes

And his accent

And his face

And Harley in general

But totally only in a friends way

They’re bros

“I want to try something real quick, you can tell me if I’m wrong, but I don’t think I am” 

And then Harley kisses Peter

Harley Kisses him

And Peter freaks out

Without even thinking about it, Peter pushes Harley off of him and bolts, leaving the tower without his phone, shoes or bag, Peter just leaves

Once Peter gets outside he throws up, before his anxiety takes over again and he just runs and runs and runs

Harley is left now sitting on the ground, tears in his eyes, confused and hurt about what just happened

Tony makes it to Harley in record time thanks to Friday, and without a question Harley explains what happened

“I thought he liked me too, Tony, I really did. I don’t know how I messed up this bad.”

“I’m sorry Harls, Peter has been hurt a lot and I just don’t think he was ready yet emotionally for a relationship.”

Tony knows that Peter has probably just been triggered. He’s only heard Peter talk about girls romantically, never boys, but he was sure that Peter and Harley were going to be together at some point

Once Harley finally calms down enough and goes to his room Tony calls May

“May, is Peter with you, he left all his stuff here.”

“No, I thought he was staying with you tonight. what happened?”

“Harley kissed Pete, and he freaked out and ran out without any of his stuff, I was hoping he was with you. His phone is here too.”

“I think I know where he is, College Point Park. Ben and I used to take him there after any court date.”

“I’ll meet you there.”

“What about Harley?”

“He’s already asleep, I’ll meet you there.”

Tony and May get there in record time, finding Peter sitting on the rocks facing the East River.

“Peter?” May called out.

Peter turned around, his face clearly red, tears streaming down his face.

“I don’t understand” Peter finally said as May and Tony got close enough

“What don’t you understand?” Tony asked

“Harley kissed me. He kissed me. I expected to hate it. But I didn’t. I liked it when he kissed me. I should hate it though. He’s a boy. I shouldn’t have liked it.”

“Peter it’s okay if you liked Harley Kissing you, and it’s okay if you like him romantically too” May tried to comfort

“But it’s not May, because if I like Harley, and I like him kissing me then that means that I liked it when Skip kissed me. And I didn’t like anything he did to me.”

“Peter, I like when Pepper and I kiss, but that doesn’t mean that if May were to kiss me that I’d like it. Same thing goes for you kiddo.”

“I like girls though. I can’t like Harley.”

“You can like both boys and girls. You could be Bisexual or maybe not. No matter what it’s okay.” May said again.

“I need time. I can’t- I need Dr Rosenburg and I need to not be Spider-Man and I need to not see Harley or Ned or MJ. I need time.”

“Okay baby, you can have as much time as you need.” 

Peter ends up taking a week off of school, with daily appointments with his therapist. He went completely ghost mode. Wasn’t active as Spider-Man, wasn’t active on social media. Didn’t read or respond to anyone’s messages. Only talking to May or Tony and only if they were at the apartment.

After his week off, Peter finally reappeared at school, still having not responded to anyone’s messages, preferring to just deal with things in person.

“Peter oh my god you’re alive we all thought you died.” Ned shouted from down the hall going to greet his friend, MJ and Harley in tow.

“I’m fine guys, I just had some stuff from the past come back up that needed to be dealt with before I did anything that would hurt other people.”

“What are you talking about Parker, you wouldn’t hurt a fly let alone anyone else.” MJ said confused

“I’ll tell you when I’m ready too but I’m not there yet. My therapist thinks I made good progress this week though.”

“Your therapist?” Ned asked.

“Uh yeah, sorry. MJ, Ned, I really messed up with how I treated you guys the other day, regarding my sexuality, turns out I may of been wrong and you guys were right, I just repressed any of those emotions due to trauma. So, I’m sorry you didn’t deserve that.”

Ned and MJ obviously forgive Peter bc duh they’re friends

“I would like to talk to Harley privately though, so you guys wouldn’t mind?”

So Peter pulls Harley to the side finally getting the chance to talk to him, and wanted to say his words before he lost his nerves.

“Peter I’m sorry-”

“I liked when you kissed me. That’s why I freaked out. I didn’t think it was possible for me to like that, or men. I’m sorry for pushing you away. I wasn’t prepared and my brain automatically went to a dark place. I like you Harley Keener, but I have problems and I want you to be aware of that before we do anything.”

“Okay.”

“If we are going to try this I need you to be aware of my limits. I have a lot of them apparently, and I’m not sure if more will come up or not, but my therapist said that I should talk to you about this stuff before we do anything. If you still like me, that is.”

“Peter Parker you are too precious, of course I still like you, I don’t plan on not liking you for a while yet.”

And then Peter smiles and he feels relieved, because getting to this point took a lot of work and now he’s here and he likes a boy who likes him back who won’t hurt him

[imaginesbymk]

“My Favourite Patient.”

Gotham One Shot

Summary: you’re Jerome’s psychiatrist and new friend. But before he gathers the courage to ask you to be his, he grows upset when you get assigned to a different patient after the Arkham Asylum head office labels your relationship with a patient as inappropriate.

Pairing: Jerome Valeska x Reader

Author’s Note: inspired by Harley & Joker, obviously—but more angsty & definitely not the way the Joker treats Harley in paralleling to Jerome x y/n. this is a 600 follower special!!! like i said, one shots requests are not open, but i’ll be opening them and taking a few once i hit 1k!! [milestone masterlist]

“IS that a diary?” 

Jerome nodded excitedly and slid the small book over to your side. You examined the cover, noticing how he had decorated it with letters and kiddie stickers, and what really stood out was the giant ice cream centered.

“Do you update it daily?” you ask, half opening it.

“Meh, I try to. Often times I find myself just doodling the hell out of the margins.” Jerome watched you flip it open completely, skimming through. You were surprised to see how crazy Jerome went with the writing and cartoon doodles scribbled everywhere. 

Most of them included his dreams of how to get back at Bruce Wayne, getting into depth of how he was gonna do it, and there was a drawing of him getting tortured with bees.

You flipped to the recent page he last worked on, and your eyes fixated when you spotted your name being written at least five times, then the giant heart drawn around the initials 

JEROME + Y/N

“Uh...”

Jerome cackled. “Hope you don’t mind being featured?”

You shake your head and slid the diary back to his side, chuckling. “I don’t mind at all.” You jotted a few things in the clipboard, noticing at the corner of the folder Jerome’s mugshot taken for the second time after escaping, dying, resurrecting and being brought back to Arkham, this time his face was cut and sewn back on respectively.

You wouldn’t enjoy gushing about it, because the thought was downright odd. But you also couldn’t deny it. You and Jerome developed a close bond, and soon the tension between you two were hints that it was leading to something more than just a psychiatrist-patient relationship. 

Jerome shared the same age as you, and you were one of the gifted people to get your Ph.D at a fine young age. You were so close to luring Jerome to something bigger in hopes of taking good care of him and helping him become better than the kind of guy he was known to be. 

When it was simply you and him alone in the room during his appointment, you got glimpses of his character, and he was falling for you. Who would have thought you would have reciprocated those feelings without even telling him first.

But, you weren’t here to win yourself an inmate boyfriend. Your job was to help him.

Glancing at the clock, you gathered all your things and heard the buzzer of the room go off. Two guards walk in to escort Jerome back to his cell.

“Time flies when you’re having fun,” Jerome winked at you and obeyed orders. “See you next week, doc. Oh! Can I bring my diary to our next appointment?”

“Of course you can,” you smiled.

He smiled, the recovering stitch from his sewn face stretching out a bit, making you cringe. “Man, you are the best, y/n! The best doctor to cure me in this funny farm, at least still on the journey of doing so.” He laughed and he was tugged away to leave.

You smiled back again, without realizing your last words would mean all the galaxies and stars to him like magic. “Anything for my favourite patient.”

The following week, Jerome skipped down the halls when the line to the recreational room cut short, and he was stopped when he was told that it was time for his appointment. Beaming with excitement, he grabbed his diary just like he was promised to be allowed to bring with him, and he was taken down the corridors and into the familiar office.

Just days before, Jerome worked like a surgeon preparing the next page of his diary dedicated just for you. It was much more detailed and there were more smiley faces and hearts doodled around yours and his name. The words “BE MINE?” were scribbled at the bottom of the page as he planned on surprising you with the proposal as soon as you would open to the recent page.

The guard unlocked the door with the known buzzer blaring, and Jerome hopped in like a showman. 

“Hello again, dear! Good to see ya-” 

He stopped. Someone was sitting in your spot opposite to where he was supposed to sit in. There was a doctor in the room, but it wasn’t you. The doctor was middle aged, more experienced, but gave off the unwanted, boring vibe. He looked up from the report he was reading and shot Jerome a blank stare. There was nothing friendly in his greeting unlike how you greeted him like a friend whenever he showed up.

“Mr. Valeska, have a seat.” His monotonous voice almost made Jerome’s skin crawl.

“Who the hell are you?” Jerome asked.

“Your psychiatrist.”

“I think I’m at the wrong appointment. Y/n is my psychiatrist. Where are they?”

“I’m afraid y/n has been assigned to a new patient. It was arranged at such short notice, but they’ll no longer be requiring their time on you. So I’ll be replacing them.” The doctor frowned at Jerome’s diary held in his hands. “Oh, you can’t bring that in here.”

Completely baffled, Jerome tries making his way out the door, however the guards caught on quick and restrained the angry ginger down in his seat. The whole time, all Jerome could do was stare at the psychiatrist so angrily and hungry for revenge. It’s not like the doctor was at fault, but seeing him and not y/n made Jerome’s blood boil.

Several days pass, and Jerome did not see y/n until one stormy afternoon when walking down the halls. It was a new corridor he had yet to explore, and he couldn’t help but take a peak through the slot. He squinted his eye, and felt his heart drop to his gut.

He saw you, but you couldn’t see him. Your new assigned patient was speaking to you in slow mutters, something you had yet expected when dealing with Arkham asylum inmates. Jerome couldn’t believe it, why did you have to go? It wasn’t common for Arkham psychiatrists to just switch patients.

“You! Valeska!”

Jerome glared at the guard who incompetently showed up at the door they were supposed to, well, guard. “Keep moving.”

As soon as his name was called out from the halls, you shot your eyes at the door, ignoring the patient you were with. Jerome was quick enough to grab the keys from the guard’s belt, unlocking it and barging in.

“Jerome?” you jumped.

“Yeah, hi. Quite a surprise to see you with...” Jerome glanced over at the inmate, who had drool running down his mouth. “That thing.”

“Jerome, I’m with a patient right now, and this is a confidential session. You can’t be in here.”

“Not until you and I figure out why I’m no longer your weekly problem anymore.”

Your face fell, and something from your look tells Jerome that you knew the answer to that. The guard goes to grab Jerome, but you stop them. “Wait! Give us a minute.” Jerome grinned while shooing the officer out the door. 

You sighed. “Last week, I got called into the head office. The person who owns this hellhole told me I can’t be your psychiatrist anymore.”

“Why?” Jerome asks, taking a step closer.

“They said they found our friendship to be inappropriate. I know the point of this job is to engage with my patients and develop a bond while treating them. But after monitoring us in the session room, they weren’t too happy. They threatened to revoke my license and fire me, but I told them they could just assign me to another patient. So they did.”

Jerome’s world collapsed like an apocalypse. What a ridiculous reason, he thought. They’re just jealous that they didn’t have a strong connection with anyone the way I did with y/n. You were such a positive impact ever since he was locked up, and now the positive was all being taken away.

But what tore his cold heart to broken icicles was the fact that you found an alternative, and that meant you couldn’t see Jerome anymore.

“That is just childish,” Jerome said in a low voice. “I care about you so much, y/n. But you could of came up with another idea instead of treating some rando who drools like a baby.”

“I can’t lose my job, Jerome,” you tell him. “And besides, you and me being a couple? It can’t happen. Not here.”

“Oh, it can.” Jerome stretched out a smile. “I am your favourite patient after all.”

You shook your head. “Jerome...”

He took another step and took your hand, as if he was preparing for a waltz. You stood stiff. “You and me, we can get outta here. We can be together and turn Gotham upside down and play with it like a tether ball. We just gotta think of a plan. That’s only if you wanna be with me.”

Finally, you were able to say those words. “I do wanna be with you, J.” He smiled and pulled you close to his dirty and distressed sewed face, and kissed you passionately, ignoring the patient that sat in the chair like a lifeless statue.

Pulling away, he still held onto you. “Don’t worry, toots. I escaped before, and I’l do it again with pleasure. I’m a man with a plan, and you, y/n, are mine.”

You smiled and kissed him again as thunder and lightning struck outside the gothic window. Just like the initials and hearts written in his diary, Jerome was a man of his word.

—

tag list: @lotsoffandomimagines

[littlemissagrafina]

Comfortember Day 12. Therapy/Emotional Support Pet

Cinnamon Hot Chocolate

@comfortember

Read On AO3

Peter was sad.

Usually he could push it away, shove it down and occupy his mind with something else but there were still times that his sadness and loneliness felt like a heavy cloud that never wanted to leave.

It was a permanent fixture in his life, it came and went just as the days of sun did.

Peter preferred sun days. They didn't have the same restless exhaustion that cloudy days did. He could smile easily, laugh freely, and walk tall on the sunny days because his heart felt at ease. Happy.

That wasn't always possible on cloudy days for they brought deep resonating sadness with them. It always felt like they dredged up every bit of hurt and sorrow that Peter had felt in his life. It was exhausting but he couldn't sit still, couldn't relax, couldn't sleep.

And so he walked. There was a chill in the air and remnants of slush on the ground in some places but the cold was nothing that his thick coat couldn't ward off.

He walked past Delmar's, past the numerous subway entrances and street vendors. Past a building that he had accidentally webbed himself to the rooftop of once.

Tony had never let him live it down after seeing it in the suite's footage.

The brief thought of his mentor made him smile but it faded when he remembered that the man was away on a business trip for the weekend.

Peter found himself walking the same route he would take to the tower but didn't change his course since he didn't have any desire to go and distract himself alone in an empty lab. Even Tony had admitted that he didn't like the silent loneliness of the lab after so many days with Peter.

Said teenager probably wasn't meant to hear it of course but he couldn't exactly stop his super hearing now could he?

So yes, lab time was out of the question. Instead Peter found himself on the familiar path to a nearby park.

As he walked, Peter couldn't help but watch the people there with their friends or family, how they smiled and laughed so easily. He was jealous.

Peter would never wish his depression on anyone, not for a second, but it didn't stop him from wishing he could be like them, carefree and happy even just for a moment. He wanted to forget his worry, his sadness, his fears, but he didn't know how.

And so he let them fester. It wasn't a good idea and he would probably regret it, but he was tired of fighting his thoughts off. It was nice to just let them free.

Peter saw a food cart nearby, the smell of peppermint, chocolate, and cinnamon soon drifted towards him. He walked over and bought a cinnamon and whipped cream hot cocoa with the couple dollars he had stuffed in his pocket.

The smooth taste of the chocolate gave him a burst of sunlight before it faded slightly.

Peter moved over to sit on a bench nearby. He didn't trust himself not to trip and mess his drink everywhere.

He sat there until his hot chocolate was long since finished, the empty take away cup sitting on the ground next to his foot.

Suddenly a cold but gentle nose nudged his hand and Peter lifted his head to look into possibly the cutest puppy eyes he had ever seen.

A curly haired retriever sat in front of him, tongue lolling out of its mouth as it huffed a doggy smile up at him.

"Hey there, Woofy." Peter murmured, his voice sounding fake even to his own ears.

"Mec! There you are!" A new voice called out from a few feet away, a slightly southern drawl to the words. Peter looked up, and saw another boy around his age walking towards him. He had dirty blonde curls and blue eyes Peter noticed as he got closer.

"Hey." Mr Southern stopped in front of Peter and the calm dog, who's name was apparently Mec, and Peter vaguely noticed concern in the other teen's eyes but dismissed it because why would a random person be worried about him? He didn't deserve that. The thought was proven correct only moments later when Mr Southern spoke again.

"Are you doing okay?" He asked before turning slightly red. "Uhh, sorry. Um… I just wanted to ask because Mec is an emotional support dog and he usually only goes up to people he feels are having a rough time. So uh… yeah…" The other boy trailed off awkwardly but Peter was too surprised to worry about it.

"Oh! I um… today hasn't been the best day but I'll get through it." Peter found himself saying and he was shocked. How did this random guy make him feel so comfortable with being open like that?

"Thank you for asking."

Peter received a crooked smile in return. "No problem. And thank you for answering."

"I'm Harley Keener by the way, and this is Mechanic." Mr Southern said, ruffling Mec's fluffy ears and sticking his other hand out to Peter.

"Peter Parker." Peter smiled at Harley as they shook hands.

"I'm sorry but I'm gonna have to cut this short." Harley apologised with a grin. "I actually have an appointment I gotta get to. I was wondering, though, if I could get your number before I go?"

He actually wants to talk more? To me? Peter thought before realising he had started at Harley for a moment too long.

"You don't have to if you don't want to or anything," Harley said quickly. "I just thought it would be cool or whatever."

Peter couldn't help but smile at the constant rise and fall between Harley's awkwardness and his confidence. "You're good, don't worry. Here." He passed his phone to Harley and watched as he put his number in. His phone was handed back.

"Thank you. I really have to go now but it was nice meeting you, Peter Parker."

"And you, Harley Keener. I guess I'll see you around?"

"That you will." Harley waved as he walked a few steps backwards before turning and heading off with Mec trotting on at his side.

A moment later, Peter's phone vibrated with a new message. Wanna grab some hot cocoa later? I know a really nice cafe a few blocks over. Only if you have the time and are up to it! The text said.

Peter replied with Only if it's cinnamon hot cocoa, then you've got yourself a deal.

His phone buzzed again.

Cinnamon it is.

[spagbol99]

Heyy happy FFWF! You’re amazing and I love your fics! So, my brain just decided to remind me of one of your posts from a while ago where you gave us a snippet of a fic you’re currently writing (it was the seven-sentence challenge I think) and I got curious about it again. Is it something you’re still working on? If it is, would it be possible to get another sneak peek to satisfy our irondad cravings? I’m sending some sunshine your way, hope you have an awesome day!☀️

Hiya!  Happy FFWF!

I am indeed still working on my BioDad fic.  I am about 90K written but I won't lie, I’m struggling a bit.  I think a lot of it has to do with wanting it to be good enough- it doesn't feel like it has the same flow like I had with A Peter Parker Problem.  I mean, I think what I have is ok but I want it to be as better (- sorry couldn't resist a Homecoming pun..!).  So I prob need to get out of my own head about it.  Anyway, that really isn't what you asked me, is it?!  Can you have another sneak peek?  Yes you can!  Ok, you know how long winded I am so it’s more of a half a chapter rather than a snippet - oh well!

----

                                                  Peter

“Peter, Boss would like to see you in his workshop.” FRIDAY’s voice filtered down from above.

Peter looked up towards where it had emanated from, worrying his lips between his teeth.

Why did Mr Stark want him to go down there?

Peter had retreated back to his room after they had said their goodbyes to Harley.  The weekend had turned out much better than he had expected.  He’d actually enjoyed himself and not felt like he was taking up space in the Penthouse.  They’d tinkered about with tech and watched movies.  Mr Stark was so much more relaxed in the workshop.  He couldn’t deny that it’d been fascinating to see the man in his element.  He’d left the two teenagers to do their own thing at one point, but Peter’s eyes had been drawn to the man as he worked: watching him work with holographic schematics with singular focus.

Peter put down his pen on top of the homework packet that he was working on and headed towards the workshop.

Sweat started to pool under his armpits as the doors to the room swished open as soon as he was in front of them; no need to knock or announce his arrival.  

He tentatively followed the sound of metal on metal and as he turned the corner, he could see Mr Stark was working a sheet of a thin alloy into – well he wasn’t sure what, but something else.  There was a bead of sweat running down the side of his face, and his hands were oily.

The banging stopped for a moment, and Peter cleared his throat.

Mr Stark twisted towards the noise, pulling his safety visor up when he saw who it was and sending Peter a warm smile.

“You, um, wanted to see me, sir?”

Tony took the visor off completely now and headed towards him, picking up and rag and wiping his hands as he did.

“Yeah kid, I did.  It’s about borrowing the tools.”

Peter straightened up.  Shit, he was in trouble.  He looked at the floor and put his hands in his pockets.

“I’m sorry.  FRIDAY said you wouldn’t mind, but I should have asked you directly.  It won’t happen again, sir.”

“Oh no, that’s not what I meant…” Mr Stark’s face crumpled.  “My tools are your tools.  It’s just, I figured it’s safer if you use them in here.  So, I set you up with your own workstation in here, you know, so you can have a proper area to create.”

Peter stared at him.  He’d never had his own place before.  A million possibilities went through his mind.

“It’s just over here…”

He followed Mr Stark a few steps to where there was indeed a cleared off desk.

“I figured you might like a holo projector too.”

Peter’s eyes widened as Mr Stark opened it up.  

“I set you up your own server so you can save your work easily.  You can talk to FRIDAY just as you’ve seen me do and she’ll help with any calculations or, well, anything you require.”

Peter continued gaping, as Tony jotted something into the holo and a rotating gauntlet came into view.  “I took the liberty of putting this on here for you to practice getting used to working with the system.”

Peter stepped forward straight away.  This was the coolest thing ever.  He pushed his fingers forward and grabbed a piece of the floating gauntlet in his hands, pulling it apart in a motion that he’d seen Mr Stark doing yesterday.  The image separated out into the component parts.  He moved the pieces around with no more than a flick of his wrist.  God, the whole system was so intuitive, it was incredible.

Peter spent a few moments engrossed before he realised that Mr Stark was standing there watching him.

“Oh, thank you, this is awesome.  Th-thanks.”

He saw Mr Stark moving slowly, no doubt on purpose, to place his hand on his shoulder, giving it a gentle squeeze.   It felt warm and secure.  It had been a while since he’d felt such a gentle, warm gesture from an adult.  He turned his attention back to the hologram; trying to keep his cheeks from burning but knowing he probably wouldn’t succeed.

Mr Stark’s hand retreated and he did too.

“Um, Mr Stark?”

The man turned around with a hopeful expression.

“I, uh, don’t suppose you have time to show me how it all works.”  Peter chewed the inside of his mouth.  He didn’t need help, not really.

Mr Stark let out the biggest smile that Peter had seen since he arrived, and he came and stood next to him.

“Yeah, sure bud.  All the time in the world.”

                                                   Tony

Tony’s heart had taken a while to calm down.  He’d been in a lot of high pressure situations in his lifetime.  Literal life and death situations; Afghanistan, the wormhole and yet here his heart had been hammering just as much as it had then.  At least that is what it felt like to him.  Hell, the kid could probably hear it from where he was stood next to him.

He was stood shoulder to shoulder with his son.  Just that thought alone was enough to make his stomach flip – though this time in a good way.  His heart rate gradually began to decline, and he tried really hard to keep the ridiculous smile off of his face.

Being so close to him, hearing him talk.  And God, he was so fucking smart.  He seemed to want to hide it, but then he’d start to get excited, and Tony could see the inquisitiveness and joy in him.  It was there, had been all along, there just hadn’t been the chance to push it out from behind the sheer fear the kid must be feeling about this whole new situation, this whole new identity that he had.

Tony knew that they should have talked about it all directly by now.  But the kid was so on edge, he didn’t want to do anything to make it worse.  

Social Services had reminded him that one of the major conditions of their breaking protocol was Tony’s agreement that Peter would attend Counselling sessions – both individual and family sessions.  They were set up to start next week – it was just down to Tony to tell him.  Tony looked over at him, as Peter studied some calculations, his dark eyes intent on the numbers in front of him, knocking a pencil against his lips as he did.  Not today.

This whole weekend had been incredible – he’d be sure to send Harley a fat gift for his part in that.  He’d made it all so effortless.  So Keener would be getting a gift and an extra bump in his college fund too.  But if the weekend had been good, then this afternoon had been perfect.  

Tony hadn’t been too sure how the offering of the worktable would go down.  It could quite possibly have been met with the same polite distance Peter had shown him since he got here.  He was sure he was being totally transparent.  Having the worktable in here meant spending time with him.  He wasn’t sure that was what Peter wanted.  But then, he’d just been about to leave him to it, not wanting to hang around applying pressure and Peter had reached out to him.  Peter didn’t need guidance on the system – not really, that much was obvious in the first five minutes - so Tony could only surmise that Peter wanted to spend time with him.  He’d asked about Tony’s old projects and tentatively asked Tony to show him them.  Which was how they came to be elbow deep in giving DUM-E a proper tune up.  Self-admittedly, Peter wasn’t as up with mechanical engineering, so it gave Tony the opportunity to teach him – something that he had always imagined that he’d have the opportunity to do with his son.

Peter’s head lifted and a moment later Tony heard the tell-tale click of Pepper’s heels.

“Tony!”  Pepper’s voice called.  And oh yes, that was her pissed off tone.

“Over here,” he called back cheerfully.

“So you are here!”  Her voice was starting to grow louder as she got closer.  “You can’t just mute FRIDAY and include me in that; we had a meeting, what was so…”

Pepper had made it to where they were and stopped still, her eyes training from him to Peter and back again.

“Sorry Pep, forgot about that meeting.”  Tony couldn’t help but smile at her with what he hoped was a ‘look at this, don’t mess this up’ vibe.

Pepper’s mouth was open but before she could say anything, Peter did.

“Sorry Miss Potts, I asked Mr Stark to show me how DUM-E worked…” Peter seemed to hunch in on himself.

“That’s no problem.  Tony appointed me as CEO specifically so he didn’t have to deal with meetings, if I remember correctly,”  Pepper said, sending him a warm smile.

“That was one reason.”

“I suppose it is pointless of me to ask if either of you have stopped to eat whilst you have been down here?”

Tony looked at Peter, who looked back.

“Erm…”

Pepper rolled her eyes.  “Tony, it’s 8pm and he hasn’t eaten!”

“Oh, sorry kid…”

“I didn’t even notice the time, I was so focussed,” Peter said sheepishly.  

“Oh no, now there are two of you.” Pepper put a hand to her forehead.  “I’ll go and order something in whilst you finish up and wash up.  Pizza ok, Peter?”

“Yes, Miss Potts.  Thank you.”

With that she turned on her heel and was off.

Tony looked to Peter who looked a little chastised.

“You did good, kid.  If you hadn’t been here, she’d have had my head.”  Tony grinned and Peter seemed to push a little smile out.  “Shall we get cleaned up?”

Peter looked down at the robot in front of them as he twisted his hands together.  “We are about ready to close him up, right?  I don’t like to leave him all hanging out.  Can we just finish it off, sir?”  

Tony shifted his weight back.

“How about we make a deal?  You stop calling me ‘sir’, and we can finish DUM-E off.”

Peter looked up at him, a look of uncertainty in his face.  Was it so hard to not call your own father ‘sir’?  Had his parents or uncle been so formal?  Or was it something else?  The words emotional distance floated into his mind – huh- maybe he had paid some attention during his past therapy sessions.

“Ok,” he said softly.  

“Great,” Tony gently knocked his shoulder into Peter’s without thinking too much about it and was rewarded with a smile.  “Let’s get this guy back on the road.”

----

Thanks for the ask!  

[randomfandomimagine]

The Right Moment (Clark Kent x Reader)

Character: Clark Kent

Fandom: Supergirl

Tags: Reader Insert, Male Reader, Confessions

Warnings: None

Word Count: 1,1k words

Requested by @kingreidx​​​: Could I request a ficlet for Clark lent (supergirl) x Male reader, so I’m going to change it, so could Clark and Male reader be close friends, the reader doesn’t know about Clark’s secret and he thinks it’s time for you to know, with feelings on the line between the two, Clark kisses the Male reader due to nerves, which leads to a date 💞 

A/N: I stopped watching Supergirl early into Season 2, so forgive me if this isn’t 100% accurate. Still, I hope you enjoy it :D

Clark Kent x Male Reader

-

Your mind buzzed with thousand of thoughts. Work, friends, hobbies... You were so busy that it was hard to keep up sometimes. And Clark related to that struggle of yours, although in a different way.

“Y/N?” He asked, and by the tone of his voice it wasn’t the first time he called.

“Yeah” You stopped walking in the middle of the street, focusing on him.

“I was meaning to tell you...” He timidly adjusted his glasses, pushing them up his nose. “Well, a few things, really...”

You nodded your head, although the gesture was absent-minded. It was hard for you to focus with so much to think about.

“Did you hear what I just said?”

“No, sorry, I was...” 

“Thinking about all you have to do, I know”

You looked at him strangely, noticing that resigned glint in his eye. Clark sighed, averting his gaze in an annoyed manner quite unlike him.

“I’m sorry, Clark” You squeezed his arm, wondering if he had been going to the gym as you noticed how strong he truly was under his jacket. He still didn’t look at you. “C’mon, don’t be like that! I know we haven’t spent much time together, but-”

“Watch out!” He suddenly said, apparently having heard something a while ago.

One of his arms easily sneaked around you, effortlessly lifting you off your feet and getting you out of harm’s ways. You were exasperated by his dramatic demeanor, but just then a car sped beside you. Just across the spot you had been standing before Clark moved you.

Pressed chest to chest with him, you stared into his eyes. He gazed back into yours. There was a heavy pause that lasted two quick heartbeats.

“Really need to watch where I’m going, huh?” You joked as you slowly distanced yourself from him. Even if your heart had started racing. “Wouldn’t be the first time something like this happens”

He squinted at you, and something seemed to snap inside him.

“You are such a reckless man!” He exclaimed in concern. “What if something happened to you? You need to be careful with your surroundings”

“Calm down, Clark, I’m fine” There was something off about him today, you just couldn’t tell what. He seemed nervous... but why would he be? You smiled at him to reassure him even if something far away had seemed to claim his attention away from you. “I’ll be more careful next-”

“Excuse me, I have somewhere to be” He suddenly muttered, rushing off just like that. What was happening?

“Time...” You completed your sentence, talking to no one, and sighed.

You just stood there, watching the place he ran off to. The corner he dissapeared from seemed too empty without him there. Maybe he would appear there again soon, filling that void that settled on your chest as well.

All your thoughts were interrupted when the chaos erupted around you. Another car sped close by. Right next to you, a building was collapsing on itself. The two things seemed to have something to do with each other. 

You screamed as you saw the building collapsing, knowing it would crush you if you didn’t move out of the way. But you might not be fast enough. That didn’t keep you from trying, as you began running at top speed.

Heaviness settled in your stomach as you peeked behind you, never allowing yourself to stop running, and saw how close you were to your inevitable death.

You started to panic, aided with the anguishing sound of your racing heart and panting. Shutting your eyes tight, you embraced for the collision. But it never came.

Instead, you were swept off your feet and scooped into a pair of strong arms. Taking a deep breath, you opened your eyes to meet face to face with no other than Superman.

“You...” Was all you could manage as you gawked at him.

“I told you to be careful” He smiled, and you froze for a moment. 

Even as you soared through the air, everything left your mind. Your work, your appointments, everything you had to do that day. Even the fact that Superman was flying you to safety. 

You had seen that smile before, despite the fact that it was the first time you saw Superman. The other clue to his identity was the words he said to you. 

“Clark?” You uttered, unable to wrap your head around that concept. Clark Kent... your close friend, that clumsy lovable softie... was Superman.

His smile only widened as he landed on a quiet street, gently lowering you down until your feet touched the ground. Shaky because of your flight and your discovery, you held on to his shoulders.

He was so changed... Without his glasses, with his hair combed back, with that tight suit... But then again, he wasn’t. You recognized those kind eyes, that sweet smile, his mannerisms. The Clark you knew so well.

“Are you okay?” He asked, holding on to you in fear you would stumble back.

“Why didn’t you tell me?!” You exclaimed instead, still not daring to move.

“I tried, but I guess it wasn’t the right moment” He chuckled, then shrugging a bit. “But now you know one of the things”

You frowned, vaguely remembering he had spoken about wanting to tell you a few things. If one of them was as huge as is secret identity, what could be the other one?

“One of them?” You gawked, feeling a bit light-headed.

“Yeah, the other one is... complicated”

“What do you mean? How can it be more complicated than this?”

“It’s just... I think I... That you...”

“Just spit it out” He had already told you his secret, what could be bothering him now? He was still behaving all nervous and timid. “I promise you, after this nothing can take me by surprise anymore!”

“Wanna bet?” He showed you that sweet smile, this time mixed with shyness and playfulness.

“Yeah, you said something about the right moment!” You exclaimed, throwing your hands up in surrender and exasperation. “Well, this is the perfect moment to-”

Clark interrupted you by smashing his lips against yours. The breath hitched on your throat, but everything seemed to settle around you. The world stopped spinning and the calmness returned. You melted into the kiss, suddenly realizing what he had been trying to tell you all along. What you had been avoiding.

Now you knew why you kept yourself so busy. The thought of having feelings for Clark had been too wild to dwell on it, to even be by his side, yet as you slowly pulled away you had no doubt. He had feelings for you, and you did too.

“Wanna go on a date?” He nervously asked you with that timid and nervous smile.

You took his hand and returned the gesture. He chuckled, squeezing your palm against his.

“I would love that, Superman” You rolled your eyes at him, even if your heart was just now starting to slow down. “Calling me reckless...”

“Sorry about that” He laughed as you started walking hand in hand. “I’ll make it up to you”

“You better”

-

Tag list: @call-me-harley-quinn​ / @fortheloveofbenyandtom​ // If you want to be added or taken off the tag list for these fandoms or characters, let me know!! // Reblogs and comments are appreciated!

[gothic-safari-clown]

The Mind’s Power Over the Body

Part Twelve: It’s Time

Story summary: They only ever had each other. It had been that way since high school, ever since Elianna transferred to dreary Arlen and took Jonathan under her wing. They go separate ways for college, and when they're reunited at Arkham Asylum professionally, Elianna comes to find that they've both changed during their time separated. Can she look past the promise of danger and stay by Jonathan's side as they slide further and further into the darkness while she grapples to come to terms with the truth about herself? Can she accept what needs to be done in order to hold onto the only person who holds any meaning in her life? This is a very self-indulgent AU that draws from several different canons of the DCU and ignoring others, starting in the Batman Begins Nolanverse. This will follow the plot of the movie, although the timeline has been very slightly tweaked.

Part One / Part Two / Part Three / Part Four / Part Five / Part Six / Part Seven / Part Eight / Part Nine / Part Ten / Part Eleven

Word count: 2524

Trigger warning for needles and toxin-induced self harm. 

"Are you sure you want to do this?" Jonathan asked from the kitchen for the third time in two days. Elianna rolled her eyes; she was getting sick of this conversation. "I think you're the only person who would do it voluntarily."

"You did it," she pointed out nonchalantly, around a mouthful of ice cream. She hoped he was making dinner; the dessert wouldn't hold her over forever. The day before, the two had visited her apartment ("why do you have so many plants?" "I don't know, but I'm glad I do, the air quality here is garbage.") to retrieve some perishables from the kitchen so that they didn't have to go grocery shopping.

"I did it for research. I didn't have a choice at the time. You do."

"Okay, look," El stood from the couch and joined him in the kitchen. "The chance of learning how to break down fear is just too promising to pass up," she said earnestly. "If there is even the slightest possibility of a positive outcome, I have to do it. Since I was attacked, I've just been getting more and more paranoid, and I thought it would go away once we started using it on Zsasz, but it hasn't. And paranoia is just going to turn into anxiety, which is going to turn into fear, and I just can't handle that." Jonathan opened his mouth to speak, only to be interrupted by Elianna.

"I know that there are better ways to prevent that, but if I'm going to be joining you on this project anyway, then I should get an idea of what I'm in for in case of any accidents! I mean, I appreciate that you're worried, but I just don't understand why you don't think I can do this."

Jonathan sighed and rubbed his forehead, leaning against the counter; he knew that she was right, but...

"Because I don't know what it will do to your psyche. When I built up my immunity, it wasn't on purpose, and we have no way of knowing if it will do the same for you." El mulled it over, carefully considering what he had to say.

"I understand. But like I said, would you rather me be exposed here, in a controlled, safe environment, or on accident at a time when it really matters? It's almost guaranteed to happen anyway, so I still think that I should at least know what to expect." She reiterated resolutely. "We're doing this."

Jonathan saw the firm determination in her eyes and knew that at this point, there was no way to talk her out of it. If he didn't expose her to it, she would do it herself, and the results could be infinitely worse than if he just went along with it.

But that didn't mean that he had to be happy about it.

"Fine." He lifted himself from the counter and turned to continue what he had been doing before—making dinner, I knew it! El put her ice cream away before sitting on the counter, swinging her legs a little. "I know you're bored, but do you have to...hover?"

"I don't have anything else to do! If you have any ideas, I'd be happy to hear them."

"You could go out or something; I don't know. Look at you, go to any bar you don't even need to take any money. Someone would cover your tab." He sounded almost bitter. What's that about?

"Yeah, that's a great idea. When I get murdered, then you wouldn't have to give me the toxin." She shot back.

"I thought you had a guardian angel."

"Oh yeah, I forgot about that guy. I wonder what he's up to."

"I don't care." God, what is he so upset about?

"You probably will in a few months. Maybe we should follow the news more closely." Nothing. El let out a short breath. Fine. "I know you don't want to talk about it anymore," she started quietly, "and I'm sorry that I'm making you do it." He didn't turn to look at her or even stop what he was doing when he spoke.

"You don't have to apologize. I understand why you want to do it, and I do want to help. I just wish you had taken the time to think about it before your decision."

"Fine, but I've thought it through now."

"I know. Since you're so sure, we can start tomorrow after work."

"Here?" He nodded.

"You'll want to be comfortable when it wears off, trust me." El smiled and slid off the counter. Satisfied with the way the conversation turned out, she went to take a shower.

"No going back now," She called over her shoulder.

"Wouldn't dream of it."

.xXx.

It was a slow day. A really, really, really slow day.

"Seriously, universe? Today?" El groaned, spinning back and forth in her chair idly. Of all days, why was she only assigned one session today? She had forgotten to check her schedule before leaving the previous day, so she hadn't even known that she could go in late. I hate looking forward to things.

For the time being, she resorted herself to see how fast she could spin her chair without knocking it over and found very quickly that the answer was 'too fast.' Way too fast. Already bored of that, she laid her head on the desk, trying to think of anything she could do. Finally, she decided to go on a walk, see if she could find Harley or Jonathan.

It took a while of wandering before El finally caught sight of blonde hair crossing the upstairs foyer from the west wing to the east wing. "Harley!" She called after her friend, jogging slightly to catch up. "Hey, how's it going?"

"Real good!" The blonde seemed more excited than usual. "I just got assigned to one of the maximum-security cases!"

"Oh, that's great!" El forced a smile, suddenly very worried about her friend. She had been assigned a max security case with Zsasz based on her work record, and it hadn't exactly ended up well.

"I know! I've been waitin' ages to get a career-making case finally, and I finally got one! I got my first session with her tomorrow." Her?

"Who is it?"

"She goes by Poison Ivy; she's an eco-terrorist. She's got this connection with plants. Apparently, she can control them, and she goes after organizations that harm the environment."

"Well, she sounds like a badass; you'll have to let me know how it goes."

"Of course, I will. They're gonna write books about me." Harley looked at El with bright eyes, and the redhead couldn't help but smile at the thought of her friend's face plastered on a biography all over Gotham.

"Just make sure to be careful okay, those guys are in maximum security for a reason." El found herself subconsciously moving the hair that fell over her forehead, where she would surely have a scar.

"Don't you worry about me, honey. What are you doin' today?"

"Apparently nothing for another few hours." Elianna sighed.

"Aw. Anything interesting?" She shook her head in response.

"I think Jonathan asked them to keep the dangerous ones away from me until I have more experience here. I mean, Zsasz didn't kill me. It's not like I'm helpless, right? I was savvy enough to get away twice." Harley bobbed her head in agreement with a sympathetic look.

"Well, maybe he's right; you're new in Gotham. It might not be a bad idea to let you settle in a while longer."

"Yeah, but now I'm only treating patients with borderline anxiety disorders. Borderline, Harls!"

"Aw," the blonde tsked and patted her friend's arm. "I'm sorry, honey, it'll get better. Oh, shoot!" She checked her watch. "I gotta go, I'm gonna be late. Maybe we should get lunch this weekend, whaddya think?"

"Yeah, that sounds nice. Go on. I'll talk to you later." El sighed as Harley rushed off to her appointment. That didn't last nearly long enough. She was now stuck where she had been before and made her way back to her office.

Who would have thought there would be so little to do in the most notorious asylum in America?

.xXx.

Finally, the end of the day came, but Jonathan's awful speed limit driving made Elianna antsy. She was so close. Besides all of the reasons she had given Jonathan over the last few days, she couldn't help but be curious about what it was like to be under the influence of the fear toxin. Seeing Zsasz's reaction had sparked an interest in the experience, although she couldn't fathom why.

"It's weird, isn't it?" She asked half an hour later as she helped Jonathan put leftover takeout in the fridge.

"What is?"

"Coincidence. Probability. Chaos theory."

"You need to stop watching Jurassic Park. It's turning you into a monster."

"Over my dead body, and you know what I mean." Jonathan closed the fridge as they finished and looked at her expectantly. "Well, my mom and I just happened to move to Arlen, out of all the places we were looking at. Then we happened to move down the road from you, and we had some classes in common. And even after all that, I still could have been really shitty and tormented you, or ignored you, or you could have been successful in keeping me away. Then we still managed to stay in touch after high school from opposite sides of the country, which is super rare, even in friends, and on top of all that we happen to have the same interests, and now here we are working in the same place after all of that, which led to tonight. To the decision I made."

Jonathan considered her words, leaning back against the counter, eventually nodding in agreement.

"It's not too late." He said quietly. "You can still change your mind."

"I'm not having seconds thoughts." El insisted gently, standing next to him and leaning her head against his arm. "Actually, I was thinking about how lucky I am to have this opportunity. Do you know how many people would jump at the chance to confront their fears? To try and fix themselves?

"Yes, I do, and it's not a good thing." El looked up at him, surprised by the empathy. "If no one were affected by fear, then none of this would be possible, and I wouldn't be able to continue my research." El stared at him in incredulous silence before laughing.

"Because that's what it all comes down to. You're really fucked up, honey."

"Look who's talking." He said with a little smile. He couldn't put it off any longer. Scarecrow was ecstatic that Elianna had volunteered for this, and it was giving him a headache. "Come on, let's get started. I'm going to give you a small dose, so hopefully, you'll be able to sleep afterward." El nodded as they straightened up, making their way to the bedroom.

She could hear Jonathan adjusting the bedsheets while she was in the closet, putting on more comfortable clothes. When she came out, he had folded them all to the end of the bed so that she wouldn't get tangled.

"I'm going to say this in advance: shut up." El gave him a confused look as he opened the false bottom of his briefcase and produced a set of four restraint cuffs that were usually attached to the medical beds, at which point she raised an eyebrow. "We needed a way to holds your limbs down so that you don't hurt either of us, just...don't." He said exasperatedly as he began to affix them to the head and footboards. El snorted, with a little smile; there was nothing she could say to make fun of him that Scarecrow probably wasn't saying already.

"Do people...hurt themselves often?" Jonathan nodded.

"Once or twice, they try to gouge out their own eyes, things like that." El swallowed herd, suddenly very glad to have such a thorough friend. "Which reminds me, I didn't think about it earlier, but I do have neighbors. We'll need to find something for you to bite down on; I've also had people bite through their own tongues." At that, El shivered and returned to her duffle bag, where she knew she had packed an old belt.

"How often would you say that happens?"

"Not too much, but it does make a mess, and we sleep here." Despite her sudden nervousness, El laughed softly at the ever-tactful Jonathan Crane. Normally she might be upset with him after that comment, but here she was volunteering for that risk.

She set the belt on the edge of the bed and positioned herself in the middle of the mattress, trying to prepare herself for something from which she didn't have a clear idea of what to expect. Gently, Jonathan lifted her head and slid a pillow underneath; the small act of care made her smile to herself as he continued to secure her wrists and ankles, careful not to tighten the restraints too much.

He took a few extra minutes to prepare the serum, during which she agreed to let him take notes. If they were moving ahead with this anyway, he might as well conduct his research on a new subject.

Jonathan was just about to put the belt in her mouth when El had a sudden thought, turning her face away. "Scarecrow, he's under control? He isn't going to try anything, is he?"

"No. He's excited, but he promised to be good. And he's impressed that you're doing this willingly." Satisfied with the answer, El nodded and let the belt between her teeth, biting down securely.

At that point, Jonathan prepared the syringe with a translucent fluid, flicking the chamber and getting rid of any air bubbles. "This is an old batch, so the effects might be a little less intense than they would normally be." Unable to speak, El nodded. He swabbed clean a patch of skin on her arm and gave her a look, giving her one last chance to change her mind. With no fault in her resolution, he finally pricked her vein and injected the serum into her bloodstream.

The concoction was thick, and El could feel it burning through her veins for only a moment

and then everything took a turn for the worse.

[nomanwalksalone]

THE LEAST OF ALL CASUALTIES 

by Réginald-Jérôme de Mans

I’m thinking, for some reason, of the late Adnan Khashoggi and of a host of dead playboys and nabobs, shrouded in the finest custom shirts money, so much money, could buy. Adnan Khashoggi, who so clearly wanted to be the Basil Zaharoff of the late twentieth century, an international man of mystery dealing arms and other items from the shadows, a figure of luxury legend, a man with whom I have nothing in common, save that life occasionally humbles us…

Yes, Khashoggi, who nicknamed his Korean bodyguard “Mr. Kill,” who reportedly kept $100,000 cash handy in an attaché case on board his private jet to sweeten any deal or grease any palm, who ordered the largest yacht in the world (Queen wrote a song about it! It was the villain’s yacht in a Bond film!), came undone. Iran Contra, Imelda Marcos, BCCI, a host of 1980s names of tarnished glitz like the hidden grime in a Helmsley hotel… He had to sell the yacht; Donald Trump briefly owned it before Trump’s own financial problems forced him to sell it yet again, to a Saudi prince.

Adnan Khashoggi, yes, that Khashoggi, uncle of the intrepid journalist Jamal Khashoggi, assassinated in sordid circumstances a year after Adnan died in wealth but not splendor. Assassinated and unavenged.

I am even less Adnan’s spiritual heir than that serious, dedicated nephew. It’s a strange contrast between the thoughtful engagement of one and the freewheeling, flamboyant capitalism of the other, a flamboyance of fairy tales, fairy tales because at their best they make us momentarily forget their foundations of exploitation and graft.

Like robber baron James Goldsmith (who inspired Terence Stamp’s character in Wall Street), Khashoggi was a famous customer of the bespoke services at Lanvin, the oldest couturier in Paris and for a long time the best shirtmaker there. Stories filter out, unattributed in magazines or relayed by friends in the know, stories that made him the last of the nabobs. He ordered a thousand custom shirts at a time! The workrooms (until a few years ago on-site on the Faubourg Saint-Honoré, some of the most expensive real-estate in the world!) were busy for months! Because he only wore his Lanvin custom shirts once! What a way to save on laundry bills!

What happened to them? Did he hand them down to his sons, or to Jamal? Like the King of Morocco with his Smalto custom suits, once worn did he pass them on to his staff?

Those days of excess are gone. They were long gone when I pushed the door at Lanvin, curious to try what knowledgeable friends had called the best shirtmaker. The shirtmaker and his staff must have known that, as clients go, I could not be at a farther remove from that man and those days, a gloomy wallflower anxious to make sure that my centimes counted, that what I received would last, gratefully accepting their suggestion to provide extra cloth to remake the collar and cuffs of the one shirt I initially ordered, for whenever those would wear out. For I was interested just in a single shirt from that maker, not thousands to strew in the wake of conspicuous consumption. No matter. They treated me as politely and patiently as they would their most extravagant client, and produced a shirt that fitted closely, marvelously, with handmade buttonholes that a much more famous shirtmaker exclaimed were worthy of a museum. In other words, a gem as precious as the daydreams I had burnished.

I was to be only a sporadic client, sometimes ordering only after an absence of years, surprised at how well they remembered my tastes, at how well my patternmaker carried out the refinements I wanted, indeed at how, over years, we nurtured a polite friendship over shared snark and tastes in old movies and Art Deco.

Art Deco. Lanvin’s Paris men’s shop is an entire building, opened in 1926 dedicated only to custom tailoring and shirtmaking. Prior to that it had been the headquarters of Lanvin Décor, designed with the unmistakable flourishes of Armand-Albert Rateau. A gorgeous luxury. For decades, Lanvin Tailleur et Chemisier retained Rateau’s stylized gilt découpé designs and furniture, before renovation banished those motifs only to tie patterns and other accessories. It wasn’t until the 1970s that Lanvin offered any men’s ready-to-wear. While it had embraced worldwide licenses for garments bearing the Lanvin name by the 1980s (my father has a poly-cotton Lanvin dress shirt from that period), its flagship was one of the only places in the world where – decades before Berluti made this boast – a man could be outfitted in bespoke literally from head to toe, Assiduous hands at  the Lanvin-owned hatter Gélot (magically transposed from the Place Vendôme to a shop-in-shop on the Lanvin bespoke floor) still crafted and fit the finest headwear, while one of the Corthay brothers themselves created Lanvin custom shoes. As for Lanvin custom tailoring? In 1901, Jeanne Lanvin herself had designed Lanvin very first men’s garment, her friend Edmond Rostand’s elaborately embroidered uniform for his initiation into the Académie Française, the first of over 70 such custom-made uniforms Lanvin would make, along with every sort of conventional tailored garment – including suits and sportcoats for certain French politicians who could not patronize their British tailors while in office.

Those days are gone. In the ’60s Lanvin had advertised its bespoke with elegant cartoons of well-appointed gentlemen’s clubs, yacht marinas, luxury hotel suites and trophy-bedecked hunting lodges, all captioned “For a certain class of men.” Those men are mostly gone. So, too, are their replacements, the rootless international men of mystery like Khashoggi. Even intellectual poseurs (yes, I’ll grant him the “u”) like Bernard-Henri Levy stopped ordering their casually unbuttoned white shirts from Lanvin.  Middle-class punters like myself, in love with the ritual of cloth selection, of fitting, of being escorted to the bespoke floor with its own little escalator, the month-long wait pregnant with anticipation for an elaborately-packaged single shirt, are too few.  No more sprawling bespoke floor but a small if tasteful salon, with what remained of the ateliers on the same floor, behind a discreet door. The hidden of the hidden: at a time brands all over heavily advertised their custom services (however spurious), not a single vitrine at 15, faubourg Saint-Honoré carried the least hint that one of the finest tailors and shirtmakers in Paris resided there. Resided, for they did not travel – unless a customer flew themout. Even the shop Lanvin opened on Savile Row a few years ago didn’t bring them over, instead offering a sort of customized stock special service on its ready-to-wear designs.

This is the least of all casualties, to lament the end of something that only the most entitled of us could ever use. For even if I’ll never set foot on a yacht, I recognize how privileged I was to indulge in the affectation of a custom shirtmaker, of the fetish of its product. Of the last days of this particular legend. Ninety-five years after its founding, the custom tailor and shirtmaker defected to another life, and Lanvin bespoke is now dead. Ninety-five years! They could not put up with five more years in the shadowy recesses of their employer, a small, ever-shrinking habitat, where I hoped their remaining an afterthought would shelter them from corporate extinction, and round out a century.

The least of all casualties, for what ended is just an idea, the idea of a permanence, a waning best, a classic. For those who want the concrete, various lines of ready-to-wear remain. Lanvin was one of the classic old guard of tailors that the legendary Groupe des Cinq, including Camps, rebelled against in the 1950s. Today, whether rebel or classicist, what is left of bespoke rallies together – tailors from the supposed old guard migrate to those former iconoclast hellions, and vice versa.

The least of all casualties, like an arms dealer dying, finally, in a Harley Street clinic. No reason to weep for him, when we live among the casualties he and his colleagues may have wrought, his financial heirs likely preferring fleece vests, athleisure, performative populism. What the rest of us inherit is casualty, this daydream’s passing worthy of no more than a moment’s thoughtful pause in our current nightmares. At least allow it that.

[berriusagi]

Stomach Bug Ch2

Dinner Announcement

Should I be writing my geology essay? Yes. Am I going to write it right now? No. Am I instead going to write a new chapter to this fic? Absolutely. Thank you everyone who showed interest in this story it means a lot that people actually like this and to everyone asking to be tagged I’d take a bullet for you. You are all the best.

~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.

The calm collected tone Bruce had during his call did well to hide the absolute madhouse that was Wayne Manor. While he was trying to subtly interrogate his youngest son over the phone his other three were playing the world's worst game of charades. Dick’s arms were flailing around as he made exaggerated motions trying to get a read on what Damian was saying through Bruce’s stony features. Jason was seemed to be working his eyebrows as much as humanly possible seeing if he could get even a hint of a reaction from Bruce. Tim, however, was just patiently waiting too tired to do any of the over the top actions of his brothers.

“Okay son, if you’re sure I’ll speak with Alfred.” Bruce nodded before hanging up and took a moment to compose himself before his sons launched into their own interrogation.

“What’s going on?” Dick asked, “Is little D okay?”

“What’s up with Demon Spawn I’ve never heard him have an emotion other than anger before,” Jason asked leaning forward.

“Why was he at Ivy and Harley’s?” Tim asked sipping his coffee.

“He didn’t say much.” Bruce sighed rubbing his eyes, “he told me he’ll be out for the rest of the day but that he’ll be here at dinner to explain what happened. He’s also bringing a few guests though he wouldn’t give any names.”

The three boys all shared looks before flying out of the room and scrambling through the halls towards the Batcave. Alfred stepping out of the way as they flew past him all shoving each other away or jumping over the other to try and be in the lead.

“They are quite lively this morning.” Alfred hummed walking over to Bruce with a raised eyebrow, “What did I miss?”

“Damian ran out during breakfast after a phone call and won’t be back until dinner he’s bringing three guests. He didn’t tell me more than that.” Bruce sighed leaning back in his seat, “How am I not grey yet Alfred?” he asked

“Must be favorable genetics as it can’t be from your tranquil life.” Alfred mused as he cleaned up the table and headed off to wash the dishes leaving Bruce alone to listen to the distant shouts of his sons fight their way into the Batcave.

~.~.~.~

“Angel, you need to eat something.” Damian said rubbing Marinette's back as she covered her nose turning away from the food set out in front of her, “I know it makes you nauseous but at least eat some toast.” he coaxed grabbing some dry toast and held it up to her.

“Eating is the last thing I want to do right now.” Marinette groaned still a little green from her last round of sickness.

“I know but the baby needs you to eat.” he soothed looking in her eyes, “you need to eat so the baby can be fed.”

Marinette groaned and pushed the plate stacked meats and eggs away from her and leaned back further to get away from the smell. Once her stomach seemed to settle she gingerly took the toast Damian kept insisting upon her eating and took small bites slowly working through it. Her stomach settled further the more she ate allowing her to relax a bit more and a healthier color to finally come to her face.

“Think she’ll be a vegetarian during this pregnancy,” Harley chuckled taking the plate away and deposited the food in the doggy bowls by the door for the two hyenas to come rip through later, “probably for the best for her to not have any meats though might really mess with her stomach.”

Ivy hummed looking through the pamphlets reading up on the different options, “Marigold we should set up an appointment with the OB-GYN Dr. Beau recommended. We should also grab some prenatal vitamins too since you’re not going to be getting enough nutrients from eating like a little bird.”

“I’ll go buy some,” Damian said standing quickly only to get shoved down in his seat a second later by Harley.

“Yeah no,” Harley said grabbing her brag, “That’s just what we need you on the front page, ‘ Wayne Heir spotted buying prenatal vitamins ’ this whole city would be in an uproar trying to figure out who you knocked up. You stay here and keep our little bug comfy we’ll go do the shopping.”

“You’re just going to leave your daughter alone with her boyfriend unsupervised?” Damian asked raising an eyebrow.

“What are ya goin to do? Knock her up?” Harley chuckled raising an eyebrow at the two blushing teens at the dining table. “You two talk, cuddle, be teens and red and I will do the shopping then later we’ll all go to Wayne Manor and act as buffers for marigold here so she doesn’t go catatonic.”

“Thank you,” Marinette mumbled looking up at the two women who so kindly took her into their home and wanted nothing more than for her to grow and be happy, “for everything I can’t thank you enough.” she sniffled scrubbing at her face.

Ivy and Harley both smiled and wrapped her up in another tight hug showering her in love and affection until her sniffles died down once more. The two women pulled back giving Mari kisses all over her face until she was giggling and pushing them away her face flushed with laughter instead of tears. Only once she was smiling brightly again did they finally pull away and leave the two teens alone.

“She’s going to be okay.” Harley smiled slinging her arm around Ivy’s shoulder, “our little marigold is gonna be just fine.” she sighed as they made their way out of the apartment building.

Marinette finished her dry toast sipping on some warm tea to soothe her throat from the torture it had gone through that morning with her stomach issues. Damian cleaned up the discarded dishes and helped Marinette up walking her over to the couch keeping a firm hold on her so she wouldn’t trip over the stray toys littering the floor. “Dami I can walk just fine.” she giggled softly as Damian helped her to sit.

“You’re pregnant I don’t want you to fall.” He said sitting down beside her, “I don’t want anything bad to happen to you.” 

“Walking around the apartment isn’t going to hurt me or the baby.” She sighed leaning on his side, “I might be a klutz but I’m not going to fall that easily. I was Ladybug for three years have some faith in me.” she mumbled closing her eyes all the stress and tension from the morning finally easing off now that she had Damian by her side.

Damian sighed wrapping an arm around her hugging her gently, “I have so much faith in you,” he whispered leaning down to kiss the crown of her head, “I’m just worried about what could all go wrong.”

Marinette sighed sitting up and turned to face him looking up into his emerald eyes, “I don’t want you to worry, I’m already scared I just want you to be the one to tell me everything is going to be okay. That we’re going to be okay.” she said moving forward to bury her face in his chest, “I want to act like this wasn’t an accident and that we’re not two stupid teens.”

Damian wrapped her up in a tight hug pressing a gentle kiss to her temple, “Okay angel,” he mumbled, “I’ll be your rock, we’ll get through this and we’ll be the best parents we can be.”

“That’s all I want.” she sniffled nuzzling closer using Damian's relaxed state to shove him back to lay on the couch quickly climbing up to cuddle up onto his chest burying her face into his neck, “I love you Dami,” she mumbled.

“I love you to angel.” he smiled softly gently running his fingers through her hair to help her relax as she began to slip away into a quiet sleep. He waited until she was fully asleep to allow himself to fully relax and take his time to process just what was happening. “I’m going to be a father.” he mumbled rubbing a hand down his face a soft laugh bubbling up from his chest as he smiled at the ceiling, “Todd’s going to have a stoke.”

~.~.~.~

“How is there nothing?” Dick asked staring at the screen of the bat computer, “That’s impossible there isn’t anything you can’t find.” he said turning to look down at Tim as he tapped away at the keyboard staring intently at the screen.

All three of the eldest Wayne boys had been down in the Batcave for hours scrubbing through phone logs, security feeds, anything and everything to get even a hint of what was to come for dinner. The longer they searched the more interested they got at the sheer lack of anything involving Damian and anyone else that would prompt him to act how he did.

“Doesn’t make sense Demon Spawn doesn’t just change overnight so either he’s just really good at covering his tracks or he’s a clone,” Jason said stretching out in his chair propping his feet up on the desk.

The other two made a humming noise as they continued to search through the documents for what felt like the hundredth time. “Wait!” Dick shouted jolting Tim and Jason nearly out of their seats as he pulled the keyboard from Tim’s grasp and started typing away, “We’re going about this all wrong.”

“And how, pray tell, should we be doing this?” Jason deadpanned looking over at Dick with a raised brow, “We should just go ask Demon Spawn and let him feed us a load of bullshit?”

“I mean clearly he doesn’t want us knowing anything because he buried it so deep but maybe asking him will give us some answers?” Dick said smiling in the face of his two brothers thoroughly unimpressed looks. “Oh come on it’s worth a shot.”

“Master Dick,” Alfred hummed walking down into the Batcave, “Master Timothy and Master Jason.” he nodded looking at the three men, “Our guests will be arriving for dinner soon please head up to the main house to clean up and get ready.”

“It’s time for dinner already?” Tim muttered turning to look at the clock noticing just how long they had been down there looking for the proverbial needle in a haystack.

“Yes so if you three will make your way to the manor proper.” Alfred nodded turning on his heels and headed back up the stairs so that he could continue with the dinner preparations.

The three men sat in silence for a moment longer before slowly making their way up the stairs. “Well, maybe we’ll get some answers during this dinner?” Dick asked looking at the other two only to receive shrugs in response.

Reaching the top landing they all split and went their separate ways to get ready for dinner taking their time to do their own thing. Soon enough a hard knock was heard through the manor signaling their mystery guests arrival. The three ran down once again shoving and tripping up each other to try and be the first in to see who would come through just narrowly avoiding crashing into Bruce’s back as they slid to a stop behind him.

Alfred calmly walked past them and opened the door, “Good evening Miss. Quinn, Miss. Ivy.” he said stepping aside allowing the two women to enter, “Welcome home Master Damian.” he said bowing his head to him, “and good evening miss?”

“You can call me Marinette.” she smiled softly up at the older gentleman, “I brought dessert,” she added holding out the large pastry box to Alfred trying to hide her nerves.

“Thank you, Miss. Marinette I’ll go put this away now. Dinner will be served shortly I hope you enjoy your stay.” he smiled softly nodding to the three women as he made his way to the kitchen.

“Damian you had us all quite worried when you ran out of here this morning.” Bruce said looking at his youngest and taking a moment to look over the three women before him, “Would you care to explain what happened?”

Marinette started to fidget keeping her eyes on anything but the Wayne’s before her, the soft pressure from Tikki in her purse doing little to keep her heart from beating out of her chest as her mind filled with everything that could go wrong. She managed to relax just a little as she felt the calm warm pressure of Damian's arm settling around her waist gently squeezing her hip to help ground her.

“Father, this is Marinette Isley-Quinzel,” Damian started his features cold and unreadable as he stared his family down, “she is my girlfriend.”

A pin could drop and sound like a gunshot in the silence that followed, the Wayne patriarch did well to hide his shock keeping a blank face as the three sons behind him ticked down to their own detonation.

“How much is he paying you?” Tim shot out.

“Where did you meet?” Dick grinned leaning forward.

“Blink twice if he’s holding you hostage.” Jason cut in.

Ivy and Harley stifled their laughs as they watched the three Wayne boys continue to throw outlandish theories and questions at poor Marinette. She seemed to calm down a small smile beginning to show on her face as she giggled at the two thinking she’d been coerced and the one trying to find out her life story. “He isn’t paying me or forcing me to be his girlfriend.” she smiled as Tim and Jason looked completely unconvinced, “and we met through a penpal assignment when I was thirteen but we didn’t start dating until I was fifteen,” she added on to answer Dick’s question.

“Well it is a pleasure to meet you Marinette it’s not often my youngest shows interest in anyone.” Bruce smiled stepping forward to take her hand, “shall we move to the living room while we wait for dinner?”

“That sounds just lovely Brucie.” Harley smiled stepping through them grabbing Marinette's arm and dragging her along out of Damian’s hold depositing her on a large armchair. Ivy shook her head smiling and followed her as she shrugged at Bruce taking a seat beside Harley on the loveseat as the Wayne’s made their way in. Once everyone was settled in and Damian got Marinette resettled on another loveseat so he could be beside her Harley decided it was a great time to drop the bomb, “So who’s gonna tell him?”

“Harls,” Ivy warned giving her a stern look.

“What? They need to know,” she said looking far too innocent for the chaos she was about to start.

“Tell me what?” Bruce asked looking at the two women carefully.

“Father,” Damian said drawing the attention of his family, “I know you just met Marinette but we feel you should know.” he said wrapping an arm around her to help keep her grounded, “Marinette’s pregnant.”

Silence doesn’t even begin to describe the absence of noise that followed, it was like a cold void swallowed the room as the Wayne’s collectively shut down at the news. Bruce’s face was unreadable as he took in the latest bit of news. Dick was practically vibrating out of his seat his eyes filled with glee. Tim looked as if his own brain was blue screening like a cheap laptop. Jason was the one to break the silence.

“Demon Spawn fucks.” Jason deadpanned

“JASON!” the room erupted from there Harley and Ivy cackling, Dick asking a million and one questions, Tim trying and failing to keep a straight face, and Jason roaring with laughter.

“What?! You’re going to look at me and tell me that I’m wrong?” Jason laughed, “the only thing I’m wrong about is that Demon Spawn would lighten up if he got laid.” he pointed at Marinette grinning wide, “She’s proof that he can fuck and still have a stick up his ass!”

“How long have you known?” Bruce asked his voice calm and collected effectively shutting down all conversation.

“I...” Marinette started her face a little pale from fear as she looked at Bruce’s emotionless face, “I found out this morning. I’ve had morning sickness for the past week.”

“You’re positive it’s Damian's?” he asked

“Father!” Damian glared moving to stand only to be held down by Marinette's small hand on his shoulder.

“I expected this,” she whispered urging him to remain seated before taking a deep breath and looked at Bruce, “I’ve only been with Damian since we began dating. If it’s not him then it’s Jesus coming back.”

Jason snorted getting a wide grin at the joke as he eyed Bruce trying to gauge his reaction.

Bruce seemed to take in everything he’d learned before a small spark lit up his eyes, “I’m going to be a grandfather.” he whispered tension starting to leave the room as he looked at Damian and Marinette pride and joy filling his eyes as he smiled wide, “I’m going to be a grandfather.”

“I call dibs on best uncle!” Dick shouted hopping up racing over to Marinette only to be tripped up by Jason.

“Like hell!” Jason shouted jumping over Dick, “I’m the best uncle for Pixie Pops kid.”

“Pixie pop?” Marinette asked letting out a yelp as Jason got right up to her practically throwing her up in the air as he lifted her from Damian's grasp.

“Hell yeah you’re small like a little fairy.” he grinned holding her as he jumped away from Damian's reach and Dick’s attempts to grab her, “so you’re Pixie Pop.” he chuckled.

The chaos began to unfold as Marinette finally relaxed all the stress bleeding away as she was welcomed into the crazy Wayne household. Ivy and Harley chuckled watching the two eldest and the youngest Wayne’s fight to grab hold of Marinette while Tim and Bruce seemed to quietly come to terms with all that was happening.

“So when’s the baby shower?” Ivy asked grinning wide.

~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.

@myazael @beautiful-disasters-sunshine @moonlightstar64 @moonlitceleste @stainedglassm @casual-darkness @mochegato @ultimatetornshipper @heemsanddamemes @nathleigh @qualitypeacepainter

[katehuntington]

Title: Changes - part six Word count: ±5000 words Summary “Changes”: Huntress Zoë Sullivan (OFC) crosses paths and swords with the Winchesters, when the brothers stumble on a case she’s already working. When complications arise, they are forced to work together. Summary part six: Zoë remains one step in front Dean, which annoys the cocky hunter. As new details about the case unravel, both Winchester brothers find out that the independent woman is not planning to share. Episode warnings: Dark! NSFW, 18+ only! Angst, gore, violence, character death. Description of blood, injury and medical procedures. Demon possession, supernatural creatures/entities. Smut, swearing, alcohol use/addiction. Kidnapping, mentions of torture and murder, illegal/criminal practices. Mentions of nightmares and flashbacks.  Author’s note: I couldn’t be more excited to share Supernatural: The Sullivan Series with you. There are quite a few people I want to thank: @coffee-obsessed-writer​​​, @soupornatural​​​ & @mrswhozeewhatsis​​​, who edited the early drafts, and my girls @girl-with-a-fandom-fettish​​​ & @winchest09​​​ who are deciphering the recent version. Everyone who encouraged me to go for it, you are awesome!

Supernatural: The Sullivan Series Masterlist 01x01 “Changes” Masterlist

     Dean squints when he steps into the light. A clear blue stretches out across the sky, the bright color gradually turning paler as it closes in on the horizon. He’s outside in the parking lot crammed with cars; the desk clerk wasn’t lying when he said he was fully booked. The place doesn’t have a sinister feel to it anymore like it did last night, allowing the hunter to let his guard down on this caffeine-deprived morning. The older Winchester brother needs a fix and he needs it badly. Sam drank all the instant coffee and he refuses to drink that shit from the machine in the lobby. 

     He expected it to be chilly outside, but the sun feels pleasantly warm. Sam woke him up, turning up the volume of the radio completely during the drum solo of a Guns ‘N Roses song. Not because his little brother likes that particular music, but he does like to watch Dean bolt upward in bed. Payback, because the older Winchester can’t deny that he pulled a similar prank on his brother more than once. Honestly, he’s glad Sammy is starting to mess with him again. It’s been a while since they acted like siblings. The joke was a good wake up call, too, he has to admit, but he still feels hungover: wrecked, tired and in desperate need of a cup of coffee, or several. 

     Traffic rushes by, most of the cars and trucks entering the city of Rochester. It’s a big town, big enough for people to disappear in without others noticing. For a moment, he thinks of those the shapeshifter already took. Sam found a string of at least three disappearances and that conclusion was drawn from the information he had access to offline while Dean was driving up north. These people could be anywhere. Dead? Probably. Going to die if they don’t find that bastard’s hideout fast? Definitely. But before he can work, he needs food, too. Dunkin’ Donuts, now that would be a treasure in this town. 

     When he asked Sam where Zoë was, all he got was “out”, followed by, “she’s already getting us lunch” when Dean grabbed his wallet and intended to leave. He went outside anyway, in need of some fresh air. His shoulder is throbbing, shooting daggers through his arm whenever he moves it, but as long as he keeps it still, it’s not too bad. In the bathroom earlier, he did peel the gauze back slightly to check the injury, and he has to admit that he was impressed. He might not be able to stand Zoë, but she did an awesome job removing that bullet and sewing him back together. Plus, the painkillers she offered are a God’s gift.

     Slowly, he strolls towards his car. The pitch-black Chevrolet Impala blinks in the sun, chrome glistening. Dean smiles; what a sight for sore eyes.      He’s honored to own the car Dad gave him a while back. Not just because she’s such a joy to drive, but because it was Dad’s first car. He kind of owes it to his old man to take good care of her. It’s what he expects him to do; to look after the family.      “Hey, Baby,” he greets his Chevy, letting his fingertips glide over the trunk.      “Since when have we reached the phase that you call me ‘baby’?”

     Dean looks over the top of the Impala and finds Zoë’s Harley parked on the other side, but he can’t spot the owner. When he moves around his car he finds her, laying on her back underneath her bike.      “Who says I was talking to you?” Dean returns, leaning against the hood.      She crawls from under the Road King and judgmentally observes him for a few seconds, then she grabs a socket wrench and slips back under. “Right, men talk to their cars. I forgot they do that,” she nags.

     Dean grins and decides not to respond; it’s still early and he’s not sharp yet. The rhythmical sound of the bolt being turned sounds like music to his ears and he has the sudden urge to pull his tools out of the trunk and get some work done himself. But Baby is fine, she doesn’t need any TLC right now.      “What’s wrong with your bike?” Dean asks curiously.      “I was in a bit of a hurry last night, probably hit a speed bump. It’s just the gasket, nothing serious,” she explains, keeping her eyes on the exhaust.      “And what’s wrong with you?” he rephrases his question.      “Excuse me?” Caught off guard, she pauses, but doesn’t make an effort to get out from under her Harley.      Dean doesn’t bother to repeat himself. “You heard me.”      “There’s nothing wrong with me, Shortbus.” Zoë continues tightening the bolt, faster than she did a moment ago, annoyed about the fact that she doesn’t know where he’s going with this.      “Then what is that bandage doing there?” Dean asks smartly.      Startled, Zoë sits up and hits her head hard against the chrome outlet of her bike, causing a loud bang. Cursing like a sailor she lands back on the ground. “Ow! Fucking hell!”

     She didn’t realize her shirt crawled up. Dean smirks at the string of strong language, but hides his smile when she surfaces from under the bike. Irritated, she pulls down her buttoned shirt to hide the gauze through which a little bit of blood has formed a perfect circle in the shape of a bullet wound. She uncomfortably pretends like neither he nor she saw it and disappears under her Harley again. Dean, of course, isn’t going to let it go.      “Did Sam shoot you?”      “What?”      “Last night he fired two bullets. Did he shoot you?” Dean repeats.      The huntress scoffs. “Ha! Your little bro isn’t that fast on the draw.”      “I’m not kidding,” he states seriously. “Someone apparently was.”

     She gives the bolt one last turn and appears from under the bike, this time without hitting her head. Annoyed, she looks up at him, lightning in her brown eyes. Zoë is nowhere near admitting to him what went down. Shit. How the hell is she gonna talk herself out of this one?      “Don’t worry, Sam won’t get the credit,” Zoë comments snarky, as she grabs a dirty cloth and cleans her hands, looking away.      “If he didn’t do it, who did?” he interrogates, clearly not accepting a smart answer.      “What does it matter? It’s nothing serious,” she mutters, getting up.      “It is. You got shot, damn it,” Dean argues.      “So did you. How’s that shoulder by the way?” Zoë quickly changes the subject, but Dean is smart enough not to take the bait.      “No - no - no,” He shakes his head and grins. “I’m not gonna fall for that one. My shoulder’s fine, thanks, but you’re still answering that question.”      She sighs; seems like there’s no way out of this.      “It’s not that bad, it was a clean shot,” she assures, still avoiding Dean’s question.      “Did you get the bullet out?” Dean asks, almost parental.      Zoë narrows her eyes at him. “Of course I got the bullet out.”      “Who shot you?” he asks again, slowly this time.

     Zoë doesn’t answer and saunters up to him, after which she leans against Dean’s Chevy as well. Her hair, still damp from the shower she took earlier and seems black. Despite the crappy night, her natural tan gives her a healthy appearance. The only thing that gives away that she’s tired, are the slightly visible dark circles under her eyes. When she looks aside, she meets Dean’s gaze, who’s waiting for some kind of response.      With a sigh, she gives him an answer. “The shapeshifter.”      Dean’s eyebrows shoot up, needing a moment to analyze her words. He doesn’t know which question he needs to ask first. “You ran into him?”

     Zoë averts her gaze, debating her conscience. Should she tell him? She knows he will keep digging until he does, but she could lie, obviously. Oh, what the hell. She might as well give him the whole story.      “Yeah, yesterday evening. I had an appointment with a possible next victim, this guy called Cliffer. Turned out the son of a bitch already shed into him,” she explains.      “Wait… Cliffer? As in Terry Cliffer?” Dean double checks.      She suspiciously tilts her head while looking at him. “Yeah.”       “Shit.” He rubs his face, realizing what is going on. “You’re Sharon Evans.”      “What? How the hell do you know my alias?” Zoë asks with a tone.      “Don’t take this the wrong way, but I think Sam technically did get you shot,” he starts off hesitating.      “Beg pardon?!” she cries out, turning towards him, completely stunned.      “We rang Cliffer around five yesterday afternoon, to meet up with him,” he admits.      She stares at him as the missing links connect. She places a hand on her hips, switching her weight to one leg, radiating her attitude. “Let me guess! FBI?”       “Yeah. He asked if Sam was Sharon Evans’s partner. We didn’t realize we were on somebody else’s case,” he admits.      “You son of a…”

     She swallows down another waterfall of curse words and turns around furiously. That’s why the bastard changed! She didn’t give herself away, those dumbass Winchesters did! It’s a bit of a coincidence that two federal agents call, being on the same case without knowing it. The shapeshifter was tailing Cliffer already, she was suspecting that, but when it learned about the appointments, it changed shape quicker than planned. The fucker knew there was at least one hunter in town. It was on to her!      “Fuck!” she exclaims.

     Furious, she turns away and walks back and forth between Dean’s car and her bike. Dean just follows her with his eyes, not saying a word. He knows that anything coming out of his mouth will only make her angrier, even if it’s just a smart attempt to lighten the mood.      “What time’s that appointment?”      “Five-thirty.”      “Where?”      “A bar. I’m not sure where.”       “You don’t know?!” she snaps.      “Sam knows. He made the appointment, not me,” he returns.      Zoë rolls her eyes and forks her fingers through her hair, staring at the passing traffic for a moment. 

     “I don’t see why this is a bad thing,” Dean starts off, casually, but she doesn’t take it well.      “You don’t see why this is a bad thing? It probably means the real Terry Cliffer is dead!��� she hisses, lowering her voice when guests walk out the Motel Six.       “You don’t know that. There could be two of them walkin’ around,” Dean argues. “The shifter doesn’t know that we’ve met. That gives us the advantage. It doesn’t know we know.”      “What was your major plan then, Hannibal Smith?” she taunts.      “I don’t have a plan. Like I said–-”      “- Sam’s the geek, I know. God, seems like your folks saved the brains for the second child,” she huffs, turning on her heels as she crosses her arms firmly in front of her chest.

     Dean glares at her, offended. Not that she notices, with her back already turned to him. She picks up the tools she used for the repair and puts them back in a small case, resting on the saddle. While she cleans up, Zoë tries to figure out some kind of plan, but if she’s not even sure who Sam actually made that appointment with, then how can she work out a strategy? Big chance that she’ll meet the shifter, but it could very well be Terry, so she can't actually go in guns blazing. Cliffer hasn’t been reported missing yet, even though he has a wife and kids. If he did disappear, they would have called the authorities and Zoë would know about that. Nothing is certain, which makes this job so much more impossible to work. 

     She stops what she’s doing and stares at the asphalt. Gears are turning in her head as she goes over every scenario. Dean observes her for a moment.      “Did you eat?” he asks out of nowhere. “Or have coffee?”      “No,” she answers confused; what does that have to do with anything?      “Then how the hell can you think properly?” he wonders.      She shrugs, only just now realizing that her stomach sounds like there’s a war going on inside. She could certainly go with a good latte macchiato to jumpstart her brain, too. It’s no fun to admit, but Dean has a point.      “You’re right. I’m off.” Zoë throws her right leg over her Harley and lands in the black leather saddle. She picks up her old biker jacket from the handlebar and puts it on.      “Can I come?”      The way Dean asks is like a little boy would, innocent and hopeful, adding ‘pretty please’ with his green eyes without actually pronouncing the words.      She chuckles and shakes her head. “Sorry, Dean. I fly solo.”      Her engine starts with a satisfying purr instead of the louder sputter it produced earlier. Content, she smiles and puts on her helmet. Dean, on the other hand, looks at her just like that same little boy, disappointed, even though he tries to hide it. Without another word, she turns the throttle and exits the parking lot. Just before she turns on the parallel road to the 52 highway, she glances over her shoulder with a smirk from ear to ear.      “Thanks for lunch!” she shouts, overruling the sound of her Harley. 

     Puzzled Dean watches her drive off. Lunch? What lunch?       He feels his pockets, knowing he’s missing something. When the identical roar seems to come closer again; he looks up. The Harley Davidson isn’t exactly coming back, but drives up the ramp going to the city. She heaves her hand victoriously, holding his wallet as she drives by. Dean’s eyes follow her, his jaw dropping to the ground.      That dirty little thief! She just stole my wallet!       He gapes at Zoë, as she and her Harley merge into busy traffic in the distance. How could she…? When did this…?      Stunned, he scoffs. Un-fucking-believable. He, one of the best goddamn hunters in the world, just got pick-pocketed. While shaking his head he turns around and walks back to the lobby, muddling softly.      “Son of a bitch.”

     An hour later, Zoë slips her key in the lock of room 82 and walks in like she owns the world, a straw coming from her iced latte on-the-go firmly between her lips.      “Finally!” Dean complains.      He made himself comfortable on the bed with his shoes on the bedspread again, sitting up against the back wall reading a magazine Zoë doesn’t want to know the content of. Sam is behind his laptop, not surprisingly. The older of the brothers smiles happily when he sees the Taco Bell symbol on the paper bags she’s holding. It might have taken her a while to get back, but at least she brought the good stuff. 

     Without responding to his comment, she throws him back his wallet without Sam noticing, who is occupied by research. Dean catches it with his left hand and answers her victorious grin with an unintelligible mutter. She sets down a small tray with two more coffee containers.      “I didn’t know how you guys like your coffee, so I brought you both an Americano,” she says.      “Francis over there prefers a half-caf double vanilla latte,” Dean comments, wiggling his eyebrows at his brother, who on his turn glares at him and takes his coffee.       As if Dean hasn’t eaten for days, he attacks the burrito, quickly tearing away the paper wrap and taking a big first bite. Zoë isn’t surprised by his manners. Sam, however, can’t help but stare at his brother for a moment and clears his throat, disapprovingly. His sibling doesn’t seem to be bothered at all and lets out a satisfied ‘mmm’.      “This is good,” he comments with his mouth full.      “Thanks, Zo,” Sam says, after which he also takes a bite of his lunch.      “Don’t thank me,” she nods at Dean. “He’s the one who paid.”            The younger brother frowns and looks over at Dean for an explanation. Dean and paying the bill? That’s new. He doesn’t need to observe him for long before Dean stops chewing and his facial expression goes blank. Uneasy, he looks away and swallows his bite. Zoë watches him, too, smirking like a cheshire cat.      “She - uh,” he pauses, studying his taco for a moment. “She kinda… stole my wallet.”      Sam almost chokes on his food and laughs out loud, the action earning a lethal glare. He then continues to look the huntress up and down. “That explains the new jacket.”      Dazed, Dean looks up. New jacket? What new jacket? Then he spots the black leather Harley Davidson bomber jacket on Zoë, brand new by the looks of it.      “You didn’t,” he reacts, shocked.      She grins at him, clearly enjoying herself. “Oh, I did.”      He grinds his teeth, trying to keep calm. “How much was it?”      “Not sure, actually. I didn’t bother to check the price tag when I slipped your card,” she returns, utterly satisfied.      For a moment Dean just stares at her, his upper lip nervously twitching. What would that jacket be worth? 400, 500 bucks, maybe?      “Oh, don’t be such a cheap jerk about it,” she comments, when she notices his expression, as if he has eaten something spicy yet disgusting. “You have at least a dozen more credit cards hidden in the trunk.”      “How the hell would you know that?” Dean snarls at her.

     As she takes a bite of her burrito, she looks up, digs deep down in her pocket and tosses him his car keys. While she casually continues with her lunch, Dean stares at the keys in his hand with his mouth agape, trying to figure out how the hell she got those as well. Sam has a hard time keeping a straight face, and who could blame him? There’s no finer entertainment than this: Dean is getting played.      “You touched my fuckin’ car?” his brother hisses.      “Obviously. I need to borrow this, by the way.” Zoë holds up a demon protection amulet.      “Give that back, Zoë,” Sam demands, trying to be strict. “What else did you take?”      “Some herbs, nothing expensive,” she admits, carelessly.      “You fucking thief. What did you take, Sullivan?”      It’s Dean who rises to his feet, holding his hand out to collect the stolen items. Reluctant, Zoë reveals a dried vine of Viburnum from her inner pocket.      “Gardener over here -” Dean nods at Sam, “- went through a lot of trouble to get ahold of that dead plant you have there. I’d give it back if I were you.”      “No. I need it,” she decides a matter of factly.      Sam narrows his eyes at the huntress, trying to read her. Why would she need that herb? He stares at it, two dried out plants tied together with a double shoestring. It only works for one thing…      “Not for yourself, I hope?” Sam asks, carefully.      “A case I’m working on the side, actually. Can’t find the damn plants anywhere,” she clarifies.      “Keep the damn twig, but I want the amulet back. Get your own supplies.” Dean ushers Zoë to hand the item over, which she does with a sigh.      He snatching his coffee from the table and returns to the bed without thanking her. In fact, he’s not happy at all that she has been sniffing around in his car. The silence that follows is awkward, even for Zoë, and she decides to change the subject.

     “I reckon you updated Sam while I was out?”       Dean nods, taking a sip of caffeine. “In detail.”      “Let me get this straight.” Sam, seated on one of the chairs by the table, leans forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “The shapeshifter knows you’re a hunter.”      “It does, but it didn’t know that at the time of the meeting. It knew one of the callers was out to kill him, but for all it cared, I could have been an FBI agent. The fucker shot me anyway,” she elaborates, finishing her drink and tossing it in the trash.      Dean crosses his arms in front of his chest. “What’s your point?”      “Her point is that if we go to Beetles Bar, pretending to know nothing, it won’t take any risks. If the shifter shows instead of the real Terry Cliffer, it will try to kill us both,” Sam understands.      “You guys are not going in,” Zoë makes clear right away, taking a mental note of the bar’s name that Sam just mentioned.

     “So, what then? Lure him out and shoot the bastard?” Dean suggests.      “Not until I’m sure it’s the shifter, not Terry,” Zoë replies, as she walks over to the fridge.      Two confused faces follow her as she opens the door and looks inside.      “You’re not making any sense at all,” Dean returns, puzzled, after which he apparently gives up on the conversation and props his feet up on the bed again.      “You might actually have made an appointment with the real Cliffer guy, not with that chameleon. No one would be able to tell, unless you shine a flashlight in his face,” she explains, as she takes out three beers.

     Sam looks back at Zoë, who beckons one of the bottles to him, but he rejects it. Dean takes both the beers without hesitation.      “You’re serious? You haven’t even been up for two hours,“ Sam scolds at the older Winchester brother, astonished by the both of them.      “It’s happy hour somewhere,” Zoë defends, puts the bottle against her mouth and takes a swig, earning a grin from Dean.      “Want anything else, Sammy boy? Some juice, or milk perhaps?” she coos cheerily as if talking to a child.      Dean snorts, almost choking on his beer, but when Sam shoots daggers at him, he quickly takes another sip.

     “Don’t call me Sammy,” he warns the huntress, continuing their discussion on the case. “So, there is a possibility that we might actually have a meeting with Terry Cliffer–-”      “Okay, stop there for a second. Let me make something very clear: there is no ‘we’.”      Zoë leans on the table, her knuckles resting on the surface. Her body language is strictly business all of a sudden; apparently she’s not very happy about Sam and Dean joining in on the case, especially not without her permission.      Dean eyes her as he sits up. “You could use our help, Zo.”      “Help?” She scoffs. “Thanks to the big ‘help’ you’ve been, I couldn’t finish the case last night!”      “That happened, sorry about that. But as long as we’re here, we can offer a hand. Besides, we have an appointment with Cliffer,” Sam argues.      “I don’t care. This is my hunt. I’m going to that appointment myself,” she clears up.      A quick glance at the clock tells her that it’s a little past three. She still wants to dig up more information on her guy. The boys better get going.      “No, you’re not. That’s our appointment,” Dean bounces back.      “Seriously? You really wanna fight me on this?” she returns snappily, pushing herself from the table and crossing her arms in front of her chest. “That appointment that you scheduled fucked up my entire case! I was here first and I’m gonna end it!”      “Oh, come on. How old are you? Five? Haven’t learned how to share yet?” Dean chuckles with an attitude, adding fuel to the fire. 

     Before Zoë can counter him, Sam comes between the two hot-blooded hunters.      “Knock it off, both of you. It will be easier to catch that shapeshifter with three hunters than with one, Zoë. Why don’t we go there together? You lay low and when we find the shapeshifter, we shoot it. We know he’ll probably be in the bar anyway, either as Terry Cliffer or someone else.”      “No,” she decides without any consideration. “I’m gonna deal with this alone and I do not need your help.”      “I can see that,” Dean comments, nodding at her abdomen, reminding her of the bullet wound that’s covered by her shirt.      “Who’s fault is that again?” she snaps. “I’m gonna say it one more time: I fly solo. I don’t do teamwork, certainly not with you two. End of discussion.”

     She takes one last sip of her beer and sets the bottle down on the table with a loud bang.      “Who do you think you are, ordering us around like that with your ‘end of discussion’? Our dad?” Sam bites back, defensive for the first time today.      She freezes at the comparison and turns her head. The boys can see the fury burning in her eyes, as if they just lit the fuse of a bomb that’s about to explode. His comment stirred something inside of her they should have left alone.      “I am nothing like your father!” she hisses.      “What the hell is that supposed to mean?” Dean questions, offended.      “Exactly what it sounds like, Winchester,” she counters with a tone.      “What did he ever do to you? He exorcised that evil son of a bitch that was wearing you to the prom, for fuck’s sake.” Dean gets up and steps towards her, clearly not too happy about the way she’s talking about his father. 

     Trying to not lose her cool, Zoë chuckles sarcastically, looks away, and places her hands on her waist.      “You owe him,” Dean pushes, halting before her.      “I do not owe him a fucking thing,” she snarls fiercely, staring him down.      Their eyes battle, waiting for the other to look away, but both Dean and Zoë are determined not to be the first. Her anger towards John Winchester radiates from her; the brothers can both feel it. They struck a nerve, that’s for sure.      “I want you out,” Zoë declares without even blinking. “And I’m serious.”

     Dean's jaw tenses as he grids his teeth. “Fine.”       With a sigh, Sam gets up from the bed and grabs his duffel, Dean already on his way out. The younger brother doesn’t feel like leaving her alone on this case, but Zoë clearly isn’t going to change her mind anytime soon.      “If you need us-–”       “- I won’t,” she immediately intervenes.      “If you do, we’re going south.” He leaves a card on the bed.      “Don’t bother, Sam. The stubborn bitch won’t call us anyway,” Dean responds, holding the door.

     She ignores his words, annoyed by the slightest sting that his bitter voice leaves. In a quick glance, Zoë sees two phone numbers written down on the card, but she doesn’t intend to pick it up. Sam looks over his shoulder, but he isn’t angry with her. His eyes ask her to please reconsider, but all she returns is a cold gaze. The door closes behind them and the brothers walk down the hallway.      “Unbelievable,” Dean scoffs. “What a fucking waste of time.”      Their footsteps echo through the hall as they pass the front desk. Sam nods at the younger guy who took over for the day when they exit Motel 6, and enters the parking lot. The sun is still shining and shimmers on the cars passing by on the 52 highway, tires rush over the blacktop. Dean halts on the driver’s side of his Impala.

     “Where to?” he asks, opening the door to get in.      “We’re staying in town,” Sam decides before he sits down in the passenger seat.      “What? No! We have better things to do, Sam,” Dean argues, still mad at the huntress.      “I know we do, but I have a bad feeling about this,” Sam admits.      Dean sighs. “Here we go again with that feminine intuition shit.”      Sam rolls his eyes at him, but doesn’t respond to his words. He can’t understand why, but somehow he has the urge to look out for Zoë, almost like it’s instinct. Unnecessary, of course; she has been fine by herself for four years. Why should today be any different?      “Let’s just go. You said something about a possible case in Iowa yesterday? If she can handle this, why bother to stick around if we can hunt something else?” Dean reminds him.      “One night. We book a motel, check on her, and if she nails it, we leave. She doesn’t even have to know we’re there,” Sam suggests.      “I thought you were determined to find Dad?” Dean looks aside at his brother, waiting for a response.      “I still am, but we have no lead, not even a single clue where he is,” Sam points out.      “Hey, that’s what I’ve been telling you, but it didn’t stop you from looking. You were the one who was all, ‘I gotta find Dad, it’s the only thing I can think of,’ Dean bounces back, imitating his voice. “And now you’re ditching him for some chick?”       “I’m not ditching him for some chick!” Sam denies.      “Ah, come on. You like her and you know it,” Dean carries on.      “I do not like her, Dean! Jess just died, damnit!” he exclaims.

     Dean looks away and pulls at his bottom lip with his teeth. He knows he went too far, so he keeps quiet and turns the ignition. When he flips the key, the V8 motor under the hood growls, impatiently waiting for Dean to back up and hit the road.      “You said it yourself: Dad doesn’t want to be found. I don’t see how it’s a bad thing to spend the night here, unless you have some kind of lead I don’t know about,” Sam suggests.      “Fine, whatever. As long as that motel has a bed. I really need to get some sleep.” 

     He puts his car in reverse and looks in the rearview mirror as he guides her out of the parking spot. The shift of his body causes him to grimace, pain cutting through his shoulder.      “Feeling alright?” Sam checks.                             “Yeah, just tired. I need more painkillers, that’s all,” he mutters.      Sam takes out his phone and calls a booking agency he had listed in his contacts earlier. As the call goes through, he sighs. It’s going to be a difficult task to find a room with that poker event in town. He waits for someone to pick up on the other side, meanwhile wondering why Zoë got so worked up about their father. Dean has a point; John saved her from that demon, so how could she possibly despise him? Something must have occurred; maybe she crossed paths with him later on and John did something to upset her. She wouldn’t be the first to cross blades with him, after all.

Thank you for reading. I appreciate every single one of you, but if you do want to give me some extra love, you are free to reblog my work or buy me coffee (Link in bio at the top of the page).

Read part seven here

The Sullivan Series tags: @a-gir1-has-n0-name​ @destielhoneybee​ @fookinghelljensensthighs​ @heartsaved​ @idksupernatural​ @laphirablack​ @magssteenkamp​

[rachelanne2018writes]

Vignettes of Love: The Turner Family- Nature’s Unexpected Return

Shelagh faces the unexpected return of 26% + of the world's population's favorite monthly visit... You're welcome.

For @anamarialujan becuase she might go Alice in Wonderland Queen (’Off with their head’ to the max) if I didn’t get SOMETHING up soon! (I’m 100% kidding). Maria- you’re welcome, this one strays along the lines of one of your stories.

October 1963 It had been nearly a year since Shelagh Turner last thought about her monthly period, and before that, it hadn’t come regularly since before her stay in the Sanitorium.

Before the Sanitorium and her subsequent marriage Shelagh, then Sister Bernadette had paid very little attention to her monthly period, other than whether or not it came regularly. Her period had never been that heavy, but it was there, nor had it lasted longer than 4-5 days. It was a minor inconvenience then, but necessary for being a moral human being, nun or not.

Shelagh’s monthly period remained a minor inconvenience, until shortly after her exploratory operation at Harley Street. It was the first time in her life that Shelagh endured some pain with her cycle. It wasn’t excruciating, manageable with a hot water bottle and some paracetamol, but a new experience for Shelagh. Ultimately, it became a one-off event, chalked up to how close the period occurred to surgery and the physical disturbance it caused to Shelagh’s body. Then came October 1963, when Shelagh’s period returned for the first time after giving birth to Teddy.

As Shelagh awoke to Teddy’s cries of hunger, she became acutely aware of an unusual ache in her lower abdomen. The pain was dull and persistent, but nothing that Shelagh couldn’t handle, and it wasn’t until Patrick awoke that she noticed something was wrong.

“Shelagh, are you alright?” Patrick asked suddenly, Shelagh had no idea that he was even awake since her energy centered on feeding Teddy “I’m alright, Patrick, I must just be ravenous this morning is all.” “If you’re sure Shelagh, I’ll pop downstairs and make you a piece of toast and some tea to hold you over until breakfast? How about that?” “Alright, Patrick, but please,” Shelagh paused after a sudden wave of pain crashed over her with no warning. “Shelagh?” “I’m fine, Patrick, another wave of pain is all,” Shelagh responded as Teddy finished his breakfast and released a small belch as the result of Shelagh’s patting and burping. “Please, Shelagh, I’d feel better if you allowed me to examine you.” “No, Patrick, I’ve got to get downstairs and start breakfast if you’re going to make it to the surgery on time. Besides, I’ve an appointment to see Sister Julienne at clinic today with Teddy for his monthly visit.” “Alright, Shelagh, but please don’t be stubborn,” Patrick finally gave in. It was no use dealing with his wife’s stubborn Scottish tendencies.

The morning seemed to go well for Shelagh, aside from another wave of pain whilst feeding Teddy later that morning. She wasn’t quite sure what Patrick seemed so worried about that morning, she felt fine aside from the dull ache in her lower abdomen that seemed content to stay behind, and an occasional wave of pain. Shelagh knew that Patrick would be worried if she didn’t have lunch ready as she usually did, and she was beginning to feel a bit peckish herself.

“How are you feeling, Shelagh?” Patrick asked as they ate lunch. “I feel a bit better; occasionally, my abdomen is still a bit achy and occasionally gives me a wave of sharper pain.” “Please, Shelagh, don’t be stubborn.” “I promise Patrick if I feel it isn’t getting better, I’ll mention it to Sister Julienne or you. Now, I’ll thank you to hand me the tomato ketchup.”

Although he was worried, Patrick gave in, not only was Shelagh seeing an equally or more qualified medical eye later that day, but it didn’t seem as though it concerned Shelagh as much as it was him.

“I’m off now on my rounds. I’ll see you at clinic this afternoon, Shelagh,” Patrick concluded before giving Shelagh a gentle kiss on the lips and Teddy’s foot a rub as he eagerly drank from Shelagh’s breast. “I love you too, Patrick. Now, you’d best be off, or you’ll be late for clinic.”

Shelagh didn’t want to admit it to Patrick before his rounds and clinic, but what had started as a dull ache and occasional wave of pain was quickly becoming much more. Once Teddy had finished his feed, she would need to find some more Paracetomal, and maybe fill a hot water bottle.

After Teddy was finished and settled into the Moses, and Shelagh had located the Paracetomal and hot water bottle, she found herself managing to be slipping towards a nap. Soon, Shelagh was unable to fight sleep any longer and slipped into the clutches of restful sleep for the first time in several weeks.

Later that afternoon at Clinic, Patrick was making a cup of tea when Sister Julienne approached him. It wasn’t unusual for Sister Julienne to consult with him, seeing as he was the clinic’s supervising Doctor, but today she seemed frantic- which wasn’t something he had seen from Sister Julienne.

“Good Afternoon Sister, how can I help you?” “Afternoon Doctor Turner, have you seen Shelagh today? It isn’t like her to skip an appointment for Teddy.” “I saw Shelagh at lunch before my rounds, and she insisted that she would be here.” “Maybe she’s simply running late, although it isn’t like Shelagh, it isn’t entirely unlikely.” “I suppose you’re right, sister, but she was having some abdominal pain earlier today.” “Oh, dear, is she alright?” “Shelagh claims it’s just a bit of discomfort, but I’m not entirely sure that is the case. Sister, could I trouble you to stop by and check on her if she doesn’t make it to the clinic today? I would pop back to the flat after clinic, but it seems that my list of patients for rounds is getting longer by the day.” “Sure thing, Doctor Turner. I’m sure it cannot harm to check in on someone now and then.”

As clinic wrapped up for the day, and Sister Julienne peddled her way to the Turner house on Beardmondsey Lane, she wondered if Shelagh was experiencing her first postnatal monthly, and was entirely unaware. Knocking gently before entering, Sister Julienne was astonished by what she saw. Shelagh was asleep on the settee, a sight that Sister Julienne rarely saw even back during Shelagh’s days as a Sister.

“Shelagh? Shelagh dearest, are you alright?” Sister Julienne called softly. “Mmm. Sister Julienne? Is that you?” “Yes, dear. Are you alright?” “My abdomen is a bit sore now and then- ohhh.” “How about I take a look at you before I do Teddy’s checks?” “Ohh-okay.” Shelagh agreed as she shifted herself into a good position for Sister Julienne. “Oh Shelagh, you’re experiencing your first postnatal period. How about I help you to the lavatory and retrieve your sanitary belt and a sanitary towel ?” “Alright, Sister.” “Would you like some Paracetamol too?” “Yes, Please, sister. My monthly isn’t usually this painful.” “Shelagh, your body has gone through immense changes from carrying Teddy and giving birth. Oh, Shelagh.” “I’m sorry, Sister, I was a midwife for years. I should have expected it,” Shelagh managed between sobs.

It was nearly an hour before Sister Julienne was able to calm Shelagh down and get her changed into a clean dress and a sanitary towel. When she explained the situation to Patrick Turner, he was more than understanding and wasn’t sure why Shelagh wouldn’t want to tell him that she had her monthly period. Eventually, he understood that Shelagh hadn’t realized that it was merely the return of her monthly period. In the future, during the rare times that cramps and fatigue sidelined Shelagh, Patrick made sure that she was comfortable and saw to it that her pain was under control.

[ruthoakenshield]

The Lady in the Black Leather (Ch17)

Catch up Here: [chapter 16]

Richard x reader

Graham and Phantom come walking in and see Rich is on the phone talking to someone quietly in the corner of the room.

 Graham unhooks Phantom who goes over to greet Rich. Graham quietly sets the bags down on a chair and lays the dog bed off to the side of the room where it will be out of the way. He takes the food and water bowls and stand out of the bag and set the stand along one wall.

 Graham takes the bowls to the sink and washes them with soap and water, then dries the food one with a paper towel. The other bowl he fills with water and brings it to the stand and places it in there. Then he opens the food bag and pours some food into the other bowl. He places that bowl in the stand as well.

 Phantom comes over to inspect what Graham is doing and then goes to munch for a bit once Graham moves away from the food stand. He chuckles and puts the dog food bag in one of the closets with Harley’s clothes and her messenger bag.

 Once Richard is off the phone, he comes back over and sits by Harley.

 Graham sits in a chair on the other side of the bed, across from Richard.

 “Lee says he’ll stop by later on in the week.” He tells Rich as he calls Phantom over and puts the new tag on his collar. Phantom stands on his hind legs to check on you and sees you’re still sleeping, so he goes to his bed, flops down and rolls around on it till he is comfy and goes to sleep.

 Graham chuckles.

 Aiden and Scarlett showed up a few minutes later with a pretty bouquet of flowers and a balloon for you. They put it on the windowsill where you can see it when you wake up.

 Aiden, Scarlett, Rich and Graham talk about what happened today quietly so as not to bother you.

 “How the hell did they find out where we all lived?” Graham asked, annoyed.

 Everyone shrugged. You had woken up but had kept your eyes closed trying to figure out what was going on. Feeling groggy from the meds.

 “He is a very resourceful asshole.” You reply quietly, cringing at the pain as you moved your leg. Everyone stopped talking and looked at you surprised. You open your eyes and look around.

 “Sweetheart, did we wake you?” Rich asks, concerned.

 “No, Hun, I’ve been awake for a bit, was just trying to make sense of where I was and what was going on before opening my eyes. Where am I?” You tell him and ask as he leans over and kisses your forehead.

 “You’re in the hospital, Sweetheart. They had to do surgery on your leg to get the bullet wound cleaned and stitched up. The bullet went straight through your leg and into the car door. You’re in your hospital room now.” he tells you.

 You nod. “Oh. That would explain why my leg hurts.” You say.

 You turn your head to see who all was there. Aiden, Scarlett, Graham & Rich were all there surrounding your bed. “Where’s Phantom?” you ask worriedly.

 Graham chuckles. “Don’t worry, Lass. He’s fine. Sleeping on his new bed over in the corner of the room.” He tells you.

 “Graham, you asked how my ex found where you all were living. My ex has connections all over the city, and he doesn’t take ‘no’ for an answer. He is ruthless and is clever and manipulative. He doesn’t ever give up till he gets what he wants. He wanted to send a message that he means to hurt all of my friends if I didn’t go back to him. I don’t know how you got past him without being harassed by him at Aiden’s unless he arrived after you all did and before we did.” You tell him and sigh quietly.

 Phantom comes over when he hears your voice and nuzzles and licks your hand, whining quietly.

 You sigh and pet Phantom’s head. “It’s ok, boy, I’m right here. Go lay down.” You tell the dog.

 Graham shakes his head. “He must’ve shown up after I arrived, Lass. I didn’t see anyone, and I walked in the front doors. Aid and Scar went in through the underground parking.” He told you.

 “They got them all, Love, including your ex. So, there’s no need to worry anymore.” Richard tells you.

 You look up at him surprised. “Yeah, but will they get out on bail again?” you say dejectedly.

 He frowns. “I don’t know, Love, Alex didn’t say. It didn’t sound like they would though. He wants me to take a look at the restraining order you got, can I see it, please, Love?” he asks you.

 You nod and tell him to pull it out of your bag’s front pocket. He goes and gets it then sits back down by the bed to read it.

 Graham comes over and ask to see it too. You nod.

 They both read through it and Richard notices the two dates. “The first hearing is in two days and the other one is a few days after that.” Richard sighs.

 He pulls out his phone and enters the court hearings into his phone and sends a message to his agent about them and that he will need to make sure these two dates are kept clear of any activities or appointments. She messages back that the only thing he had was filming and she would explain things to the director to see if they could reschedule his scenes for another time.

 Graham puts the dates into his phone too and does the same with his agent. She tells him his schedule looks clear for those dates and he tells her to keep it that way. He asks if there’s anything scheduled for tomorrow and she tells him no. He tells her to keep it clear for him then hangs up.

 Richard looks at him funny. “You gotta work tomorrow, remember? You have that huge scene to do and there’s no way they’ll let you out of it! I’ll stay with her and keep her company while you’re at work, so she isn’t alone after all this.” He offers.

 Richard groans, having forgotten he will be filming all day tomorrow. He growls.

 “Don’t worry, Rich, go do your filming. We’ll keep her occupied and safe.” Graham tells his friend.

 Richard looks down at you, asleep on the bed again. Your friends all stay near you and talk quietly trying to figure out ways to keep you entertained while you’re in the hospital.

 Rich was going to wake you to ask you about doing the video call with the judge, but Graham stops him.

 Graham looks down at you. “Let her sleep for a bit, Rich, she looked exhausted and stressed when you two got to the hospital this morning.” He stated. “Didn’t ya get much sleep last night?” he teased.

 Richard looked at his friend with a completely deadpanned expression and said, “Like I told you, we watched a movie and cuddled then went to bed and slept in.”

 Graham smirked. “And???”

 Richard rolled his eyes at Graham. “And that’s all you’re getting.” He said as he got up and looked at you, brushing your hair out of your face that had come loose from your crown.

 “I gotta go talk to the director, and call my lawyer, agent and publicist I’ll be back in a little bit.” He told Graham, Aiden and Scarlett.

 Aiden, Scarlett & Graham nodded and sat quietly and talked while you slept.

 When you woke up an hour later, you looked around. Aiden and Scarlett were playing a board game on the bedside table they had rolled over by where they were sitting, and Graham sat by you reading his book. He glances over when he sees you stir and chuckles at your confused expression.

 “He had to go talk to our director and make a few calls, Sweetheart. He’ll be back in a bit. Asked us to stay with ya.” He tells you.

 You sigh.

 “Ya doing all right, Harley?” Graham asks coming over and sitting on the edge of the bed by you. He reaches up and tucks your flyaway hair back in it’s place that came loose from your crown while you slept.

 You shake your head. “I feel just drained. I’m tired of all this mayhem and feel horrible that I put so many people’s lives in danger. People lost their homes and possessions because of me living there, and Todd almost got killed because he hired me! You all were being stalked because you befriended me, and now my Ex tried to attack Rich and I.” you say and feel your eyes start to burn as tears form from the pent up worry and stress.

 Graham sighs and looks at Phantom who is licking your hand and nuzzling it trying to give you some comfort. He picks the dog up and sets him on the bed next to you. Phantom lays down and nuzzles your arm. You pet him and calm down, but still feel like you need a good, hard cry.

 Graham pulls you to sit up. “Come here lass,” he says and sits on the edge of the bed again. You lean over to him sniffling and tears roll down your cheeks. He opens his arms and pulls you in for a hug. You try not to cry, but he just holds you and gently rubs your back.

 “It’s all right, Sweetheart. Go ahead and cry if ye need to. I know ye’ve been under a lot of unnecessary stress. We aren’t mad at ye for any of this. None of it’s yer fault. Ye can’t control what others do and say. But we’re glad to have met ye and are here for ye through all this, ok?”

He tells you as you nod and start to cry.

 Aiden comes over and sits on the edge of the bed opposite Graham and Scarlett rubs your shoulder.

 “Graham’s right, Hun. None of this is your fault. Ben was an insane control freak and sooner or later he’ll pay for what he has done to you and everyone else, one way or another he will get his comeuppance. You have Phantom now, and he’ll keep you safe, and we will do our best to keep you safe as well.” She tells you.

 Aiden leans over to calm Phantom down, “It’s ok, boy. She just needs to let out some stress and cry. She’ll be fine.”

 Phantom leans against your good leg and whines quietly, then sits down and rubs his big, fluffy head on your tummy.

 Aiden looks up at Graham wondering what to do. Graham just raises an eyebrow and shrugs.

 You finally calm down. And Graham lets you go. “Feel better?” he asks.

 “A little.” You reply.

 He chuckles. “Sometimes ye just gotta cry and let the stress out, kiddo. Won’t do any good holding it in. It’ll just make ye sick.” He tells you as he takes a tissue from Scarlett and dries your tears.

 “Now, how about something to eat?” he asks. You shrug.

 Aiden grins, “I know just the thing! Stay here, I’ll be right back!” he exclaims and goes running off to the cafeteria.

 Graham looks down at you and caresses your face. “You and Rich doin’ ok?” he asks. You nod. “Yeah, Pops. He’s treatin’ me like a princess.” You tell him.

 He grins. “Good.” He tells you. “How’d last night go?” he asks you.

 You grin. “It went fine. He made me chocolate covered strawberries and we had wine and he made Lee’s homemade pepperoni pizza, which I have GOT to get the recipe for!” you tell him.

 Graham chuckles. “Good luck with that one, Sweetie, Lee rarely shares recipes.” He tells you, causing you to frown and pout.

 “So, what else did ye two do? Rich says you watched a movie.” Graham says.

 You grin mischievously, “Yeah, we watched his favourite one, though he failed to mention it’s name and I didn’t catch it when the movie first started.” You explain.

 Graham grins. “Distracted, were ye?” he asks.

 You giggle and nod. “Just a bit… I mean, chocolate dipped strawberries, homemade pizza and wine! Um, total distraction!” you grin and wiggle your eyebrows.

 Graham and Scarlett laugh.

 Just then, Graham looks up and chuckles when he sees Aiden coming back with a HUGE ice cream Sundae that is covered in chocolate, caramel, brownie bites, strawberry slices and banana slices. He has 5 spoons and a small bowl of vanilla ice cream for Phantom.

 You laugh at the ridiculous ice cream sundae he is carrying and Graham smiles. He pulls the bedside table over your lap where Aiden plopped the HUGE Sundae and you call Phantom over and give him the ‘come’ sign. He comes over and Aiden gives him the bowl of ice cream down on the floor.

Phantom sniffs it and looks up at you confused. You grin and Aiden picks up the bowl. He takes a little on his finger and puts it on Phantom’s nose. Phantom licks it off and then looks at the bowl confused. Aiden scoops another little bit on his finger and holds it out to him. He sniffs it and gives it a hesitant lick. “Good Boy!” Aiden tells him and his tail thumps.

 Aiden holds the bowl out and Phantom sniffs it again and licks the ice cream. “Yes! There ya go!” he tells him and puts it on the floor. Phantom lays down and licks at his ice cream while the four of you dig into the sundae.

 “Come on!” he tells you all, “Hurry before it melts! If we’re lucky, we’ll finish it before Rich, gets back!” he giggles.

 Soon Richard returns and Aiden groans, “Aw man! Now he’s gonna inhale the rest!” and everyone laughs.

 Richard grins when he sees that you’re awake and gets a bigger grin when he sees what you’re eating. He stands beside your bed and you look up at him.

 “Aid hoped we’d be able to finish it before you came back.” You said and giggled.

 He raised an eyebrow to Aiden who smirked. “Anyone want any more?” Aiden asked.

 You all laughed. “Naah, Aid, I’m stuffed.” Scarlett tells him.

 Graham chuckled. “I’ve had my sugar quota for the day now! I’m gonna have to hit the gym for an hour now ta work it all off!” he grins.

 You shake your head. “I’ve had enough, thanks Aiden.”

 Aiden shrugs, “I guess the rest is yours, Rich.” He tells him with a grin.

 Richard smirks, and goes to pull up a chair next to Aiden but Aiden just stands and motions for Rich to sit where he had been sitting. Rich nods and sits down.

 Phantom had positioned himself on your right side by Aiden and Graham and Scarlett were on your left.

 You look down and chuckle. Aiden looks down and sees Phantom’s bowl is empty and he has ice cream all over his face. Aiden busts up laughing, which makes Phantom look up.

 Richard glances down and grins, he motions for the dog to ‘come’ and the poor confused dog comes over to him. Richard motions for him to ‘sit’. And Phantom does.

 Richard takes a napkin and his bottle of water and gets the napkin wet. He wipes off the ice cream from the dog’s face, chuckling. “How did you ever get ice cream all over your face, boy?” he asks the dog.

 Phantom just looks at him and then at Aiden, who is still giggling. Phantom ‘wuffs’ at Aiden like he’s blaming Aiden for it, and Richard glances over at Aiden.

 Aiden looks at him and says, “What? I just got him a little bowl of it for a treat. How was I supposed to know he’d never had ice cream before! You should have seen how confused he was! I had to show him what to do with it. He had no idea how to eat it!” Aiden replied laughing.

 Richard chuckled. “Made a mess of it did ya?” he asks the dog.

  “Wuff” Phantom replied making him grin. “There… now you’re all cleaned up.” He tells the dog. “I’ll just take that, so you don’t get into it again.” He says as he leans down and grabs the bowl.

 They all chuckle and Richard digs into the rest of the sundae and finishes it off.

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