#jason would scarf down on their food every time he has to go there

[broken-balance-baby]

ough… hc that liza is turkish but she knows absolutely nothing of her culture except the food since her family’s third generation immigrants. she also got a nose job unfortunately 💔 she’s also actually still muslim but she isn’t practicing it

[cursedkeyboard]

Funnily enough, I've never been too big of a Jason Todd fan. Not because I don't like him, he's a great character, but because DC fails over and over again to give him justice and treat him right.

The number of times alone this boy has been beaten by his adoptive father, betrayed, and forgotten are far too many, far too much.

And the constant portrayal of Jason as this volatile, violent, mindless man is tiresome, lazy in all senses of the word and overdone. I understand that Jason was unstable after he left the pit, I mean, who wouldn't? The trauma of his death alone could've sent anyone crazy, but then to experience everything else afterwards, including having to come to terms that Bruce not only did not kill his murder but also replaced him, leaving Jason to grieve what was once his and what he should've gotten, of course he'd be less than okay.

Again, I'm not the biggest Jason Todd fan but I do wish more people would see just how much good Jason has in his heart, how kind and gentle he can be once his walls are down, when he's no longer constantly analyzing your actions and wondering why would you bother talking to him, getting closer to him.

In my opinion, a man who is so gentle with children, who constantly gives second, third, and fourth chances to people who don't deserve it, who despite it all still wants to make a change and protect the city that failed him, couldn't possibly be anything but the most caring partner. Not just partner, no, also brother and friend.

We all know what he did to Tim and Damian, there are reasons, such as his mental instability at the time and rage, and though those are not excuses, I believe Jason would still drop everything to go save his family. He might complain, he might brood, but family is something important to him even when just looking at them hurts him. He lost his loving mother, stepmother, far too early and it's not hard to imagine that even with all the pain and grief inside his torn heart, the little boy inside Jason still craves the warmth of a family.

Just look at the way he treats his friends, at the way he helps them through situations no one else would, how caring and attentive he is. Jason is gentle, sure, he is rough and mean and he's got blood on his hands, but Jason is made of love.

Jason was made to be loved.

So I think, whether platonic or romantically, Jason would treat you so well. He'd scold you for not wearing warm clothes during winter, "We're in Gotham, you fucking moron, you wanna freeze to death?", all while wrapping you with his jacket or scarf. He'd make sure you're eating at least something every day, and if not, he would immediately put you under his arm, maybe over his shoulder, and take you to the nearest food chain he could find, "I don't want to hear you complaining about headaches when all you had today was a cup of coffee and gum.".

Lord, he'd be torn between freaking out and being extremely annoyed that you got hurt, be it at work, a fight, or just out of clumsiness. But no matter what, his hands would always be so, so gentle when touching you. The tip of his fingers brushing under the injury, as light as a breeze, his other hand holding the back of your neck, or your bicep, perhaps even your hand just to make sure you're there, with him.

Jason would both hush you gently, "I know, sweetheart, we're almost done.", and also tease because he's a little shit at heart, "If you had a little more awareness than a ten year old this wouldn't have happened, idiot."

And physical touches? Oh, love, Jason is a sucker for intimacy.

I know for a fact he wouldn't be comfortable for a long time with anyone in his personal space due to the torture he went through. The trauma would make his skin crawl any time someone got too close or brushed past him, he'd hate it so much because it makes him weak but also because he can't let anyone try to hug him without feeling sick to his stomach.

And with you it's no different. It would take a long time, a lot of trust being built up, conflict and confessions, maybe he'd even open up to you with his head on your lap as you brushed his hair softly, a big, big step for him after years of not letting anyone close. He'd tell you about the Joker, about having hope in Bruce, about his biological mother. And he'd feel vulnerable like a child when you wipe his tears gently without a word.

Once he starts craving your touch, though, regardless if you two have a platonic or romantic relationship, Jason is putty in your hands. Forehead kisses when you part ways, cuddling on the couch while he reads and you're on your phone, thighs touching when sitting close, even a little bit of hand holding when he's stressed and needs to play with your fingers.

He's like a big cat that's constantly making his way onto your chest, stealing your breath and making biscuits on your skin, making sure you're giving him sufficient pats every day.

It's a little part of him that he's barely able to properly allow space for. There's still so much hurt in Jason, so much confusion and desperation, hatred and upset, that he'd probably still close off sometimes, try acting tough so you'd see how fucked up he is, how he's not truly worth of your love.

And yet.

And yet all it'd take for him to go soft and pliant in your hands would be a single touch, cupping his cheeks, brushing his skin softly with your thumbs, right under his pretty emerald eyes, making sure his gaze is on you and only you. Just like that, he'd slump his shoulders and bring you into his arms, breathing a sigh of relief and squeezing you close, your heartbeats synching.

He wouldn't remember when he started feeling safest in your arms but it'd feel like it was since forever. Like there was no one else but you.

Jason was made to be loved, though he is a little broken and a little tainted, lost like a child and hateful like a sinner, your love might just be his salvation, something he's greedy for, selfish for, even when he's so hesitant of somehow hurting you.

[ranchracoon]

Ch. 1 Disappearing Act

A new dawn begins with the rising of the sun as you startle awake back in the uncomfortable familiarity of your bed. With one heavy heave, you shove the covers off yourself and step onto the cold wooden flooring. Ania and your mother are awake as well to prepare the morning in peace before your father wakes. Mother works on breakfast, you tend to the stock, and Ania helps with morning chores. You don't mind the commute from your home to the farm, it's only a short walk downhill on the edge of the woods. The morning dew soaks your thin clothing but the shivers remind you that you're alive, and you can just be alone in existence. The first chore is emptying the food scraps from last nights dinner into the pig pen, mixed with their regular diet of rotten vegetables and grains. You open the pen for the chickens, they all come clucking out to greet the morning dew and peck at the pests in the field. All while you collect their portion of the rent. The few cows and goats chatter impatiently awaiting for you to relieve them of their milk which used to take you hours to finish. 

You could realistically get it done within an hour, but you take your time with each and every one to prolong the time spent alone. When all is done, you heave the containers of milk over your shoulder and carry the eggs in one hand. By the time breakfast is laid out and ready, your father awakens from his drunken stupor only to scarf his meal down like a ravenous dog, then get himself functional enough to tend to his job. He watches you the entire time, as he sloppily shoves food into his mouth. Every suitor he's tried to find you has mysteriously disappeared, he knows you have something to do with it; these disappearances have been happening for months since your grandmother's death. He just doesn't have the proof.

The moment he leaves everyone can breath a little easier. When you were younger, you would beg your mother to leave him, run away to the city where they can be safe but she was always too scared. You've squirreled away some money every time you get some, and you're so close to having enough. Today at the markets will make or break that; you just need a little more to get you and your sister out of this town. Your mother has made her bed. 

At the markets you sell the excess produce and animal products from your farm to surrounding towns and even some city folk who drive in just to get 'farm fresh' vegetables. Today was an especially good day, making record profits and sending you well over your monetary goals. As you're about to close up shop, a close personal friend of yours named Amber comes running up to you, hugging you from behind. You chuckle softly and turn around once she releases you, her beaming smile and radiant aura are always infectious. 

"Hey Morgan! Are you doing anything tonight?"

"Just the usual. Why?"

"Well, I heard that a couple people from the next town over are having a bonfire tonight and we're invited."

"Are you sure that's a safe decision? With all the people disappearing-"

"It'll be fine! We're going as a pretty large group, and I hear there's going to be some city girls there too."

Amber bounces excitedly, she's the only person in this whole town, other than your grandmother, who truly knows how you feel. You could care less about having a husband, or any man near you for that matter. You grind your teeth nervously, you could easily sneak out and go to this, but the vast amount of people who have gone missing makes you nervous. Then again, the last time she snuck out for a party was in high school, when she got drunk for the very first time. 

"Just think about it. We're meeting by Danny's Pub around 9, and Jason is going to drive us."

When you return home you do the same routine as you have done since you could walk; drop the money made onto the table for your father to waste on alcohol, go to the field and bring in the goats, cows, and pigs for the night, then heard the chickens in. Mother makes dinner, and Ania finishes cleaning up the house before your father stomps in with his dirty boots, dragging mud, dirt, and who knows what else into the house. He comes home an hour late, slumping into his chair and taking a bite of his food. No one can eat until he does.

"This is cold!" He slams his fork down.

"I'll heat it up for you" your mother gets up from her seat and grabs the plate.

"I work my ass off all day, the least you can fucking do is have a hot meal and a cold beer ready for me. God fucking damn."

She returns the plate and he takes another bite, after a few more bites the rest of your family begins to eat. When he finishes he sits back and looks around the table, taking a long drink from his bottle before sighing loudly. He takes the stack of money you left and counts it before shoving it into the pocket of his overalls, then he smacks his lips. 

"I'll be leaving for a few days" he proclaims. 

"Going where?" Your mother asks carefully. 

"Me and a few boys are going to travel to the city. Apparently there's a few other nearby towns that are also experiencing some disappearances. Dan said he tried to contact the county sheriff and was left on hold, so we'll be going in person. Otherwise, we're gonna set up our own search party."

You look at your father from the corner of your eye, taking a slow, deep breath to contain your excitement. This is exactly the opportunity you've been looking for! You've make up your mind; tonight you'll go to the party for one last hoorah, then when your father leaves you take Ania and bail. Mother won't do anything to stop you, and with your father gone that gives you at least a day or two head start. Everything is coming together. 

That night you sneak out the window as you've done thousands of times, landing softly on the ground below. You zip up your hoodie to keep the chill air at bay as you scamper across town to the pub. Amber spots you first and waves to you, squealing with excitement that you decided to come. Including you and Amber, there's ten people total; five in Jason's car and five in Rossela's. The car ride is filled with laughter, music, and a little pregaming for those not currently driving. You arrive to the party, seeing strangers from 'rival' towns all gathered to have fun, and for once in a very long time you let yourself relax. 

As the night goes on, the alcohol runs faster, you've managed to only nurse a singular drink  but you pretend to keep refilling it. Amber finds you eventually and drags you all over the party, trying to find you someone to dance with but not having much luck. Instead she dances with you, trying to get you to loosen up which works. How can you say no to her? She refills your cup, brings it to your lips and tips it up for you until your previous anxieties are melted away. Once your head is nice and fuzzy, you follow her blindly considering she's the only person you really know here. 

She takes your hand and guides you off, away from the party. Your heart starts to hammer in your chest, you won't deny you've always had a secret admiration of your best friend. How could you not? She has gorgeous red hair that flows down her back, cute little freckles that show up when she's been in the sun too long, and the most hypnotizing green eyes. Maybe all your sick fantasies are coming true, as she drags you deeper toward the woods. The whispers of warning on the wind fall on deaf ears. 

She turns around, holding both of your hands in hers as she smiles up at you, but her genuine smile turns into that of sadness as you're ripped from her grasp. You tug and fight with all your might, managing to toss one of the people holding you, and forcing another to take their place. The two people fight and struggle with you, until you are brought up and tossed into a literal dog cage with the lock clamped shut with a padlock. 

"Amber? Amber what the fuck! Get me out of here."

Amber approaches, her brows furrowed in sorrow as tears run down her face, "I'm sorry Morgan. They have my sister! This is the only way I can get her back."

You sit there hopelessly as your once best friend turns away from you, and you look around seeing numerous others from the party also locked in different sized cages. A man dressed in all black approaches Amber, motioning toward a pickup where Amber's sister, Lara, comes running out. They embrace each other tightly, Amber sobbing quietly as she clutches her little sister. You sit back on the hard steel frame, sighing heavily as you bring your legs to your chest and rest your forehead on your knees. Could you truly say you wouldn't have done the same for Ania?

Chapter 2

[honestlydude--idk]

The College Gain

Ch.1

Pairing: Austin (oc) x Kell (oc)

Summary:

Austin has been mysteriously gaining worrying amounts of weight since entering college. After hitting 300 pounds, he tries to go to class.

---

Austin rubbed his belly as he walked into the dorm washroom, already bothered by the chafing of his thighs.

Austin stood on the scale for a moment, stepping off when he heard a beep, he looked down. 300. 300 pounds.

How was that possible?

Austin had been a tall, fit and lean 140 pounds when he first came to college. It had only been about a year, and now, at 20 years old, Austin is 300 pounds. He had no idea how it happened! He hadn't been eating differently, he still walked to class everyday (even though that was getting more and more difficult), and before he hit 260 about a month ago he had been going to the gym as regularly as he had since he turned 16.

His roommate, Kell, told him I was probably just because of the college life, it was draining, they didn't have alot of money for healthy foods and alot of it was probably just stress weight. Austin thought the weight was supposed to go away once the stress left, but apparently not. It stuck to him like glue. Dripping off of him in large rolls that only continued to get larger.

He had a double chin now, it was just beginning to show, but I was constantly there now. His cheeks were always a bright pink, he was exhausted from hauling around his blubber all day. This much weight this fast was not normal.

His arms bulged out, forced away from him by his quickly growing tits. His stomach bulged past his chest, soft as ever. You'd never even know Austin had ever had any muscle to him with the way his softness swayed and slapped against itself.

His lower half was his least favourite. It had taken the brunt of the weight, far exceeding his other body parts, feminizing him on a humiliating way. His ass was larger than any chair the college had, he had no choice but to sit in the ones with no arms, but that caused his ass to droop over the edges. His thighs tenderly touched in the middle, constantly rubbing and quickly splitting the seams of every pair of jeans he bought. He soon gave up, buying sweatpants 3 sizes bigger than needed every time he shopped, knowing he'd fill them out sooner or later.

It seemed today was that day.

He pulled them over his knees, only to be met with resistance half way up his thighs. His thigh rolls had gotten thicker, ass flabbier. Already out of breath, Austin began to wiggle his body slowly inside of the pants, and finally, after 2 minutes of his belly swaying like a pendulum, he got them up.

He sat down, or rather flopped, on the bed beside him. He was winded. He would definitely be late for class I'd he didn't get a move on. He placed a thick hand onto his chest, trying to slow his heartbeat.

The biggest shirt he had was still tight, and today it was even worse. The shirt clung to ever roll he had, accentuating his belly button, the rest of his apron couldn't be contained, however, falling over his waistband in a delicious muffin top shape.

The sleeves felt like they were cutting off his circulation, but, trying his best to ignore it, Austin threw a sweater on top, only to find it didn't really come close to zipping. Great. He battled with his shoes for another 5 minutes before finally beginning the trek to class.

----

Kell walked slightly ahead, trying his best to keep pace with Austin. But he was so slow now it was getting difficult to do so, Austin could tell. He hid his face in his warm, camo green scarf, not only trying to get a little warmer, but also to hide his heavy breathing.

"Anyway, that's what Jason said, so, you're invited too, obviously," Kell continued on talking, but, try as he might, Austin just couldn't pay attention. His shirt was unbearably tight, rubbing across his nipples just right, the combination of the cold and the chafing made them both hard as pebbles.

He felt it in his thighs too, while he was mostly chilly in the autumn air, his thighs were on fire. Burning from the long walk and from the much too tight sweatpants. He tried his best to cover it up, but he was very flushed and bothered. He was sure he'd be standing at full attention if his belly werent in the way.

Arriving to class, (only slightly late, lucky for them) Austin began to make his way to the back, where he always sat, away from the prying eyes of his classmates. It rarely ever worked. The girls in the class gawked at him every time. They couldn't believe he was still getting bigger. I mean, he has to realize he huge, right? He should just put the food down, right? He was so hot when he first got here! Long, curly blonde hair and brilliant blue eyes. Cheekbones and a wonderful jawline. His features had been covered in multiple layers of pudge now. He wasn't just fat at this point, and it would be concerning if it wasn't so funny to watch him struggle into class every week.

"Watch it, lardass," A boy beside him said sternly as Austin's ass almost knocked his books off the table. "Sorry," Austin muttered quietly, shuffling to his desk a bit faster.

He approached his chair, and today, it looked startlingly small. He braced himself against the edge of his desk, trying his best to lower himself slowly and carefully onto the shitty plastic. When he felt his cheeks touch the chair, he eased up, slowly leaning back, and.

Nope.

This couldn't be happening.

First, he heard a creak, then a crack, then he felt unstable, and then the entire class went quiet as his blubbery ass hit the floor.

For a second, there was silence. Then a chuckle, then raucous laughter. Austin's fat cheeks heated up, burning red hot as he was laughed at. He didn't dare move. He made eye contact with Kell. He gave Austin a look of pity

This couldn't be happening to him.

[uncpanda]

Code: Mom

AN: This request has been sitting in my inbox for over a year. Sorry about that. It ended up being mainly fluff. Hope you enjoy it. 

Prompt: Bruce wayne x reader? Please! Batmom going up to the watchtower dragging batman down to the manor so he can eat and pass time with the family :] some sassy/sarcastic comment along the way and the justice league. And fluff:) hope it makes sense :p and I love your writing!

The dinner table is quiet. All of your children are focused on their food, scarfing it down as quickly as possible. Dishes are passed without anyone even asking. The tension is so thick you could cut it with a knife. The league was working on some big case. You knew the basics, nothing more. If you knew too many specifics your anxiety would flair up. You knew your limitations. Your children and husband, however, did not. A fact that was driven home by your husband’s empty seat at the dinner table. 

You weren’t even half way done when your children finished scarfing their food down. They all looked at you expectedly. They wanted you to okay them leaving the table to go back to work. You chewed a bit of food as you examined them. They all had dark circles under their eyes, Tim was nearly falling asleep in his seat, Dick was anxious and fidgety, Damian was staring straight ahead, Steph was staring at the ceiling, Jason was sitting with his eyes closed, and Cass was watching you. 

You set your fork down and stand up, they all follow suit. They’re all ready to race back to the cave and to their posts. You simply smile and say, “Code mom.” 

They all freeze. You hadn’t called a code mom in years. The last time had been when the Joker was terrorizing the city. They had all worked themselves to exhaustion and you had forced them to take eight hours off to sleep. 

The protests start in the next second. You lift your fingers to your lips and let out a sharp whistle. You know what they do is important. They push the boundaries every single day with little thought to themselves. You however, are always thinking about them; you’re their mother. “You know the deal. You all promised to never put me through it again.”

They go silent at that. Technically it had happened when Jason was robin. Most of your kids hadn’t come into your life yet, but they all knew the story. It had been years ago, when the world had been invaded. You’d been forced to watch meager television coverage, and scan the computers in the cave for more information. You haven't heard from your husband or children in nearly two weeks. You had been an absolute mess with the rumors of their deaths one minute and them fighting the next. You’d had several anxiety attacks in those weeks. 

When your family had finally made it home, they had broken bones, cuts, and bruises, you wouldn’t let them out of your sight. Bruce had had to work from home, and only patrolled two or three times a week, and the kids hadn’t been allowed on patrol for nearly two months. The lack of information had shaken you to your core. That was when Bruce had developed code mom. 

You had the ability to call a code mom in times of extreme stress, when you saw things heading downhill for either yourself or your family. It was a required twenty four hours of rest and family time to make sure they were in top shape to do what they needed to do. And right now, a code mom was needed. 

You look at your kids, “Warm showers all around, and then bed. At least eight hours.” You turn to Alfred, “I’m going to go get my husband.” 

He smiles and you head to the cave. You don a mask, and teleport up to the station. No one bats an eye at your presence; they’re all too busy running around dealing with whatever is going on. You slide by groups of heroes in the hallway, and make your way to Bruce’s area. 

He commands several groups, and you watch him for several minutes. His voice is hoarse, there’s tension in his shoulders, and he’s even stumbling just slightly. He’s exhausted, and you would bet he hasn’t eaten anything decent all day. 

You wait for him to notice you, and when he does he stops. So do all the others. He knows you hate the station, mainly because the teleporter. Combine that with the fact that you hate to involve yourself in the superhero aspect of his life, he knows you’ve reached your tipping point. “It looks like things are finally under control.” 

“Barely.” 

You cross your arms and he drags a hand over his face, “Code mom?” 

You smile and nod, “Code mom.”  

“Lantern you’re in charge. I need some rest.” 

With that the two of you are on your way out. When you make it back to the cave he 

leans against you. You help him change out of the suit, get him in a shower because he stinks, and then get him dressed in a tee shirt, lounge pants and slippers. You get him to eat a few bites of dinner, before you get him in bed. He’s asleep within minutes. 

You kiss his cheek before you go to check on the kids. Steph is fast asleep, her eye mask firmly in place. Cass is curled up in a ball in the middle of her bed, surrounded by fluffy blankets. Dick, and Jason are in the same room. Dick is in his bed while Jason is curled up on a pallet on the floor. You have a feeling the younger brother snuck in when the older was already asleep. You find Tim asleep in his big lounge chair. He has a close laptop in his lap, which you take and set on the bed, before covering him in blankets. Damian is asleep with Titus  laying across his feet, Alfred the cat curled up by his head, and at least a half a dozen stuffed animals. 

You check on ALfred last. He’s still up; enjoying a cup of tea and his newspaper. He simply smiles at you before you head back to your room. You climb into bed and have just settled in when Bruce reaches out and drags you into his side. He cuddles you close, presses a kiss to your temple, and the two of you fall fast asleep and let go of your worries and fears until tomorrow. 

[arrowflier]

Darling Arrow, would you please write something about Mickey accidentally making friends with everyone in the building and constantly talking about his husband, and then they finally meet him and they’re like ‘hot damn no wonder you’re obsessed with him’? Thank you ❤️

It was the first time Jason had ever been to one of these things. The apartment complex threw them every so often, little get-togethers to encourage “neighborly bonding”, but he had never really felt like he belonged there.

After all, just because he lived in the basement apartment didn’t mean he lived there. He wasn’t like these people. He just got reduced board for doing shit around the place; he was an employee, not a tenant.

But Melanie has invited him personally this year, something about building a rapport with the people he helped, and he wasn’t gonna turn down free food and good beer just to avoid rubbing elbows with the more fortunate.

And most of them were, clearly, more fortunate. Nice handbags, clothes that fit, shoes that weren’t covered in dirt. Happy voices and laughter when all he could think about was how much of a pain it was gonna be to clean up after this.

Whatever.

He took up a post by the food table, determined to make the best of it. Grabbed one of those tiny little plates and filled it with enough fancy shit to make his mother cry, and a weird microbrew to wash it down with. Then he picked a spot out of the way, nice and empty, and settled in for a long evening.

Unfortunately, more than one other person had the same idea.

“I wonder if Mickey’s going to be here,” one older woman asked her partner as they crowded into Jason’s little corner, forcing him back closer to the wall. “I know he was going to try, but that boy is just so busy.”

“Don’t know why,” her partner chimed in. “He has a husband, he shouldn’t have to do everything.”

“Don’t I know it,” the woman sighed, lifting a glass of red wine to her painted lips. “I’ve tried to tell him, I have, but he’s so obsessed with that Ian fellow he just won’t hear it.”

They trailed off into silence, picking delicately at the same foods Jason had already scarfed down. Seeing his chance to escape, he tried to sneak around them to refill his plate, but his way was suddenly blocked by another newcomer.

“Are you talking about Mickey?” they asked eagerly. A young woman, dressed to the nines, carrying a plate with nothing but two deviled eggs. “Is he here yet?”

“Not yet, dear,” the first woman answered. “We were just talking about how…devoted he is to that husband of his.”

“Oh, I know!” the new arrival exclaimed. “Mickey helped me out when my son got hurt a few weeks ago, but all he could talk about was how his husband would have done it better!”

This one gestured as she spoke, and nearly upset Jason’s own plate with her flailing. Instead of being glad it was empty, he stared forlornly at it as his window of opportunity closed. He stepped back instead—at least he could get out of the way a little more—but nearly backed into another body.

“You talking about Mickey?” another person asked, and Jason nearly groaned.

“Oh, you know him too?” the young woman asked excitedly.

“Of course I do,” the new person said. Jason turned his head to look, recognizing a young man that frequented the on-site gym. “He gave me some rad pointers the other day, said I wasn’t committing enough to the workout. ‘If you ain’t runnin’ like the cops are after you, you ain’t runnin’. And he was right—I hit a new personal best after that!”

“That sounds like something Mickey would say!” yet another voice said.

Jason closed his eyes. There was no escape now. If the floor didn’t eat him alive, this sudden crowd would.

“He’s great, right?” the new woman asked. “So real, so unfiltered.”

“Sure,” gym-guy agreed, then frowned. “When I tried to thank him, though, he just said some guy named Ian could help me more.”

“Did I hear you say Ian?” a new voice came through.

How many people were even at this party? Did they all even live in the building? For fuck’s sake, Jason should have just stayed home.

“Yeah, you know him?” the first woman, the older one, asked.

“Nah,” came the answer. “Know his husband though, Mickey. Cool guy, helped me out in the garden when I was having trouble.”

A pause.

“Kept goin’ on about Ian’s tomatoes though. He was so proud of the guy, and I bet he did half the work.”

A murmur of assent ran through the group. Jason caught himself nodding along, and shook himself out of it. He didn’t even know the guy!

“Wait, is that him?” someone asked. Jason had given up keeping track of who was speaking.

“It is! Mickey’s here!” someone else confirmed, and suddenly the entire crowd was rushing away and leaving Jason finally, thankfully, alone again.

Wondering what the fuck just happened.

He should take advantage of the exodus. Get some more food, some more beer, and escape back to his room.

But after all of that, he couldn’t help himself. He had to see what all the fuss was about.

So he trailed after the others. Stood at the back of the group as they all greeted a man who seemed more alarmed than anything to see them. A man who looked—

A lot like Jason.

His shoes were dirty. His hands carried tattoos not appropriate for polite company. His clothes fit, but they were worn in, like he had made them last. His eyes were skittish, his lips pursed…

And everyone there hung off him like he was a king.

Including a tall, red-haired man with a hand on Mickey’s back. A man that took Mickey’s hand, and whispered in his ear, brushing lips against his head as he pulled away. A man that stepped between Mickey and the crowd, shielding his partner, and spoke loud enough to be heard by all.

“Hey folks,” he said with a charming, mega-watt smile. It should have looked smarmy, but somehow it felt sincere. “I’m Ian; it’s so nice to finally meet you.”

If Jason were one to speak in similes, he would say the response of the crowd was like a shockwave.

“You’re Ian?”

“Hi Ian!”

“Ian, we’ve heard such great things!”

And behind it all, Mickey stood, a small smile on his face, content to let his husband take the spotlight. He caught Jason’s eye over the crowd, and winked, then pointed questioningly at the beer bottle that hung loose from Jason’s fingers.

Jason gestured to the food table. Mickey ran a hand along his husband’s back, then took off to fill a plate even higher than Jason had dared, speaking shortly to everyone he met along the way. They all greeted him like a friend, laughed with him when he accidentally sent a tiny sandwich falling to the ground.

Jason looked at his own empty plate, then went back for seconds. Maybe this place wasn’t as uppity as it seemed.

[waitimcomingtoo]

Open for holiday requests? Well then... ho,ho,ho🎅 Tom’s driving home frantically during holiday season and ends up getting his car stuck in a snowstorm. Reader and her family take him in from the cold and slowly he adjusts for the time being and maybe starts catching feelings???

I love a good hallmark like Xmas movie romance!

Home For The Holidays 

Pairing: Tom Holland x Reader

Masterlist

“Spencer, look!” Lucas alerted his twin once he heard the knock. “There’s someone outside.”

Spencer got up to the window curiously and looked outside, seeing Tom covered head to toe in snow.

“It’s a monster.” Spencer shrieked as he ducked down from the window.

“It is not a monster.” Lucas rolled his eyes before looking out the window again. “Oh my God.”

“What?” Spencer asked, jumping up next to his twin to look out the window.

“Its a monster.” Lucas gasped. The boys scrambled to the door and flung it open, gasping in unison at the sight of a snow covered Tom.

“Hi. I’m-“

Are you the abdominal snowman?” Lucas asked as he let Tom in the door.

“No, I’m T-“

“Daisy!” Spencer cut him off with a shout. “Come in here!”

“Is there an adult I can speak to?” Tom asked the child as a little girl came into the room.

“Whats going on?” Daisy asked before her eyes landed on Tom. “Woah, is that an abdominal snowman?”

“Yea!” Spencer nodded. “He came right to our door.”

“I saw him out in the snow.” Lucas said proudly.

“Hey kids.” Tom spoke again. “Sorry to bother you, but I really need to talk to an adult. Are your parents home?”

“Did you come from the North Pole?” Spencer asked.

“No, Spencer.” Daisy rolled her eyes. “The abdominal snowman lives in Alaska.”

“I think he lives in Florida.” Lucas added.

“It’s actually abominable and I’m from Europe.” Tom cut in.

“Do you have magic powers?” Lucas asked.

“Yeah. I can use a phone really well. Do you want to see?” Tom tried to bait them into letting him use the phone.

“Wait!” Spencer gasped.

“What?” Daisy asked.

“Stranger danger.” Spencer realized. “We let a stranger into the house.”

“Oh no.” Lucas whined. “My parents are gonna be mad at me.”

“Mine too.” Daisy feared. “We can’t tell them.”

“Get Y/n.” Lucas instructed. “She’ll know what to do.”

“Okay.” Spencer ran out of the room, leaving Tom with the other two kids.

“Is Y/n your age?” Tom asked the children, hoping he wouldn’t have to deal with another child.

“No. Shes my cousin.” Daisy answered. “I think she’s 40. Shes really pretty though.”

“He’s right in here. He doesn’t look like the one in the movie.” Tom heard Spencer’s voice coming back. He came into the room with you, your one hand holding his and your other over your eyes.

“Okay. Can I open my eyes now?” You asked your brother.

“Uh huh.” Spencer said, and you slowly opened your eyes and removed your hand. Tom finally got a good look at you and felt all the air leave his chest.

“Uh, hi.” Tom waved awkwardly at you, taken aback by the beautiful stranger who let him on their house. You, on the other hand, were thinking something entirely different.

“AHHHHH.” You screamed and grabbed the children. “Intruder!”

“Woah woah woah.” Tom tried to calm you down. “The kids let me in.”

“Did you hurt them? Are you guys okay?” You asked as you inspected the children.

“We’re okay.” Lucas nodded, making you kiss his forehead out of relief. You picked Daisy up with one arm and held the boys close to you with your other as you backed away from Tom.

“Who are you and why are you in my house?” You demanded.

“My name is Tom.” Tom started slowly. “I’m so sorry to bother you but my car has broken down and I can’t get any service. Would you mind letting me use your phone?”

“My whole family is inside.” You told him. “Can you give me some sort of proof that you’re not chop us up and turn us into soup?”

“What kind of proof do you need?” Tom chuckled softly.

“Can you take me out to your car to show me that it’s broken down?”

“It’s really cold out here and I parked pretty far. It’s not safe for you to walk all the way out there.” Tom warned you.

“How far did you walk?” You asked, suddenly noticing how tired he looked.

“I’m not sure. You can’t see anything out there.” He shrugged. You chewed your lip and looked down at your siblings and cousin before making a decision.

“Kids, go inside and help grandma with the cooking.” You instructed. “Tell her I said you could have one piece of candy each.”

“Are we in trouble for letting a stranger inside?” Lucas asked fearfully.

“No, honey.” You assured him. “Just don’t do it again, okay? You did the right thing by coming to get me.”

The children smiled in relief before scurrying out of the room, leaving you alone with Tom.

“Empty your coat pockets” You demanded, trying to put on a brave face.

“Okay, but why?” Tom wondered as he took the contents of his pockets out.

“In case you have any weapons.” You said like it was obvious.

“There.” Tom said as he put the last of it on the table. “Pockets are empty.”

You eyed him skeptically before walking up to him and putting his hands in his pockets. You patted him down until you were satisfied.

“Okay. I believe you.” You nodded. “I’m Y/n, by the way.”

“Tom.” He shook your hand. “Are those your kids?”

“No.” You smiled. “Those were my brothers and my niece.”

“They’re cute.” Tom complimented. “They look like you.”

“Well, I have tons more in the living room.” You said proudly. “That’s why I have to keep you in here until I know you won’t hurt anyone.”

“How can I gain your trust?”

“Um, I don’t really know.” You realized. “I’ve never interrogated anyone before.”

“How about this.” Tom offered as he pulled off his hat and scarf, revealing his reddened face. “I’ll take off my stuff so you can see I’m just a regular guy.”

Your body language changed when you saw that he was a handsome guy your age. You blushed a little and looked around the room to gather yourself.

“Your skin is freezing.” You sighed as you touched a warm hand to his cold cheek. “How long have you been out there?”

“A while. I can’t feel anything below my neck.”

“You poor thing.” You sighed and rubbed his arms to warm him up. “Come on, let’s get you warmed up.”

“Wait, what about the interrogation?” Tom wondered.

“You passed. Now come on, before you get frostbite.” You laughed as you took his hand and lead him into your living room where your family was. Tom looked around the room, seeing at least 8 children and a bunch of adults. As soon as they saw you, your cousin Clementine ran into your arms for a hug. You scooped her up and held her on your hip as you addressed your family.

“Everyone, this is Tom.” You put your hand on Toms back. “His car broke down and he needs our help.”

“How cute is he!” Your aunt Linda gushed. “Look at those brown eyes.”

“The eyes? Look at that hair. So healthy.” Your Aunt Mary added.

“Nice to meet you Tom. I’m also Tom.” Your grandfather reached forward to shake Toms hand.

“And I’m Gary.” Your other grandfather shook his hand. “Nice handshake. Strong.”

“Thank you sir.” Tom smiled shyly.

“Ah, Y/n, he’s your age.” Your grandmother gasped. “What a cute couple you’d make.”

“Do you want to see my train set?” Your brother Charlie tugged on Toms hand. “I built it myself.”

“I helped.” Your youngest brother, George, told him. “I put the tracks together.”

“I’d love to see it.” Tom smiled at him.

“Can we get you something to eat?” Your uncle Jason asked Tom. “You must be starving.”

“How about a drink? Do you like hot chocolate? I just made some.” Aunt Linda offered.

“Have a seat, dear.” Your mom led Tom to a chair. “You must have been walking for miles.”

“A friend of mine owns the best auto shop in town. I’ll give him a call for you to see about your car.” Your uncle Richard said as he went to get the house phone.

“Thank you, sir. I greatly appreciate that.” Tom nodded in appreciation.

“Did you hear that?” Your mom gasped. “Manners.”

“And that accent.” Aunt Mary winked. “Oh, Y/n, he’s perfect for you.”

“Aunt Mary.” You glared at her. “We just met.”

“Oh, you must be freezing. I’ll get you a sweater.” Your other grandmother moved towards the closet.

“Make Y/n get it.” Your grandma waved her hand in dismissal. “You need to focus on the food.”

“Y/n, would you take Tom to get a fresh set of clothes? He’ll catch his death in this weather.” Your mother asked you.

“Please, don’t let me put you to any trouble.” Tom tried to stop them from going to great lengths for him.

“Nonsense. You’re our guest.” Your mother smiled at him.

“Follow me.” You put Clementine down and took Toms hand, leading him to one of the bedrooms.

“You have such a big family.” Tom commented as you reached the room.

“I know.” You smiled proudly as you got clothes out of the closet. “Every holiday is a huge celebration. It’s the only time we all get to be together.”

“That’s really great that you’re all so close.” Tom smiled as he looked at the family pictures hanging on the wall.

“Yeah. I wouldn’t trade them for anything. Here.” You handed him clothes. “You can put on anything you find and leave your wet clothes in the bathroom.”

You went to leave the room but Tom grabbed your arm.

“Y/n?” Tom asked.

“Yes, Tom?”

“Thank you. I really appreciate you letting me in.” Tom smiled warmly.

“And I really appreciate you not chopping my family up and turning us into soup.” You smiled back before leaving the room. You waited a few minutes before coming back in once you assumed Tom was finished changing.

“I found some more sweaters if none of those...” You trailed off when you saw what Tom was wearing.

“What?” Tom asked in confusion as he looked down at the sweater.

“That’s my dads sweater. I haven’t seen it in years.” You smiled softly as you ran your fingers down the material of the sweater.

“It’s so soft.” Tom chuckled as he felt it as well. “He doesn’t wear it anymore?”

“No. He um, he passed away a few years ago.” You admitted, keeping your eyes down.

“Oh, I’m so sorry. I can take it off.” Tom immediately went to remove it.

“No, it’s okay.” You stopped him. “It suits you.”

“Tom! Y/n!” Your aunt Linda called from the living room. “Hot chocolate is ready!”

“Come on.” You took his hand. “My aunt makes really good hot chocolate. You’ll love it.”

Tom blushed behind your back as you lead him to the kitchen, feeling intimidated when he saw your entire family sitting down.

“There you two are.” Your mother smiled. “We were just sitting down to eat.”

“You can sit next to me.” You pulled Tom to two empty seats. He pulled your chair out for you, making you smile.

“I wanna sit with Tom.” Daisy whined.

“No, I do.” George pouted.

“You can sit across from me.” Tom told George. “And I’ll sit in the middle of Y/n and Daisy.”

“I called the auto shop.” Your uncle told Tom. “They can’t send anybody out here until the morning. Hope you don’t spending the night here.”

“Oh, don’t worry about it.” Tom shook his head. “I’m sure I’ll find a hotel around here.”

“Nonsense. You’ll never make it to a hotel. Plus, we have a perfectly good bed right here.” Your grandpa insisted.

“I don’t want to put you to too much trouble.” Tom told your family. “You’ve already done so much for me.”

“It’s no trouble at all. We’re happy to have you here.” Your other grandpa said.

“Hot chocolate, for you.” Aunt Linda placed two mugs down in front of you and Tom.

“Would you like some potatoes?” Aunt Mary passed him the bowl.

“How about some greens? I put a little brown sugar on them to make them taste good.” Aunt Linda put some on Toms plate.

“You have to try this. It’s my special recipe.” Your grandma put a baked zucchini next to the green beans.

“My wife makes the best stuffing.” Uncle Gary chuckled as he put some on Toms plate. “You’ll want to take some before the kids get it all.”

“Ooo. Make sure you get some cranberry sauce.” Your mother filled the last empty spot on Toms dish.

“Thank you. All of you. I really appreciate your kindness.” Tom smiled fondly at the table, his heart warming with gratitude.

“It’s the holiday season. Kindness is the most important gift you can give.” Your grandpa declared.

“Tom, do you want to play dolls with me after dinner?” Your cousin Ivy asked.

“No, he has to see my train set first.” Charlie spoke up.

“We could put the dolls on the train.” Tom suggested, making all the children grin.

“Did you hear that? He’s a genius.” Lucas said to Spencer.

“How long is Tom gonna stay with us?” Ivy asked her mom.

“Can he stay in my room tonight? I have stars on my ceiling.” Lucas told Tom.

“That sounds really cool, Lucas.” Tom nodded. “You’ll have to show me.”

“Are you and Y/n gonna get married?” Clementine wondered out loud, making you slap your hand to your forehead while Tom laughed.

“We just met, Clementine.” You said shyly as you pushed your food around your plate.

“Do you like pie Tom?” Aunt Linda piped up. “I made apple and cherry.”

“And I made pumpkin.” You leaned towards him to tell him.

“I like pumpkin.” Tom smiled at you, leaning in as well.

“Me too.” You giggled as you bumped shoulders with him.

“Oh look!” Aunt Mary gasped. “You two are under the mistletoe.”

You and Tom looked up and sure enough, a bustle of mistletoe was hanging above your heads. Toms face immediately flushed as he looked at you, but you were busy giving an unamused look to your family.

“Wow.” You said sarcastically. “It’s almost like someone hung mistletoe over the only two empty seats at the table.”

“Maybe it was a coincidence.” Tom squeaked.

“Uh Uh.” You shook your head. “This was no coincidence. My family did this on purpose.”

You punctuated your sentence by standing up and taking the mistletoe down, making your family roll their eyes and huff.

“We’re not gonna kiss.” You declared as you set the mistletoe down on the table. “Not like this.”

Tom perked up at your words, but appeared to be the only one that heard it. He looked around the table for witnesses, but found that your family had given up and started eating. Out of the corner of his eye, he watched you slip the mistletoe into your cardigan pocket. Tom eyes you curiously but didn’t say anything as he began to eat his food.

After dinner, Tom helped you clear the table while the kids ran off to play. You couldn’t help but smile at him as he stood next to your grandmother, drying the dishes as she washed them.

“Look at him.” Your grandmother gawked. “He’s helping me wash the dishes.”

“Y/n, if you don’t marry him, I will.” Your mom clicked her tongue, making you roll your eyes.

“Stop it.” You scolded. “No one here marrying him. We don’t even know if he’s single.”

“Well, Tom, are you seeing anyone?” Aunt Mary asked him as she put the dishes away.

“I’m not, no.” Tom answered as he kept his eyes on you. You gave him a coy smile before looking away.

“Then when are you taking Y/n on a date?” Aunt Linda asked, making you gasp.”

“Aunt Linda!” You exclaimed. “That’s enough. Nothings gonna happen between us if you’re all poking around in our business. We’re leaving. Come on, Tom.”

Tom gave an apologetic look to your family as he followed you out of the room. You took his hand and brought him to one of the rooms, presumably the one you were staying in.

“Sorry about that.” You sighed as you shut the door behind you. “They’re always trying to set me up.”

“Has it ever worked before?” Tom asked, a hint of jealousy in his words.

“I don’t know.” You shrugged and flicked your eyes to the ceiling. “You tell me.”

Tom followed your eyes and looked up as well, smiling a little when he saw mistletoe badly taped above your heads.

“Hm.” Tom played coy. “Now, where did that come from?”

“I took it from the dining room.” You laughed. “It’d be a shame to go to waste.”

“You know what?” Tom smirked as he hooked his pinky under your chin, tilting your lips closer to his. “I was thinking the same thing.”

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Drastic Measures- Part 1

@daminette-december2019-2020 ​

~Inspiration~

*Emerges from my hole*: oh ho ho~ we have another month of inspiration on our hands!

Next

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

Marinette steps through the portal immediately collapsing; she doesn't drop the transformation until she hears Chat drop down next to her. She calls the transformation of both the Horse and Ladybug miraculous, knowing Chat will close his eyes without her asking, Marinette does the same for him as he calls off his own.

They stay like that, panting on the rooftop. It’ll be sunrise soon, Marinette knows what she has to do.

“He’s moved,” She breaks the silence. Stating the obvious, they’ve known this for months.

“At least he wont be bothering Paris anymore,” Chat laughs, without any humor.

“But Gotham is so much worse,” Marinette groans, “We can’t keep doing this, not like we are, Spots on,”

Marinette stands letting the transformation wash over her while keeping her eyes shut, this will be easier to say without looking at him anyway.

“Chat Noir, hand over your miraculous,” Marinette recoils at the wounded sound he makes, “I have to leave Paris,”

“What? No! Claws out!” Marinette opens her eyes to see Chat, furious and with tears in his eyes, “I’m coming with you!”

She thought he would say that. Probably would have hurt if he didn’t.

“I can’t just ask you to leave your life, your friends,” Marinette chokes up, “Your family,”

“And what about you?!” Chat says with such heartbreaking sincerity, “Who will you be leaving behind!?”

“... Everyone,”

But she had put it off for too long. Hawkmoth slowed his attacks in Paris months ago, they thought he was giving up… then he attacked Gotham. The attacks in Paris stopped. The ones in Gotham were so much worse. She thought… she thought she could keep it up, jumping through a portal every time Gotham needed her. It was the best of both worlds. Her family and friends were safe and she could still defeat Hawkmoth. But nothing was ever that easy. Gotham needed her, completely, with undivided attention. Paris didn’t. Gotham needed Ladybug more than Paris needed Marinette.

“Not me,” Chat breaks Marinette from her thoughts, gently holding her shoulders, “I’m coming with you,”

She should argue. She planned to argue, every detail ever rebuttal. But she was weak. Marinette so desperately wanted him to come. To have someone, anyone there for her. No not anyone she wanted Chat by her side. Her partner through thick and thin. The one who would help her take down Hawkmoth. It was so unbelievably selfish. 

She wanted him with her more than she wanted him to live his life here.

“Chat you realize we can’t tell anyone,” They could make the connection, they would try to stop them, or worse, follow them. If they went to Gotham alone at least they wouldn't have a life outside of this, they could focus wholly on taking down Hawkmoth, and maybe finally succeed, “... we have to run away,”

“Bug a boo that's the fun part,” Chat teases, Marinette couldn't see how leaving her friends and family would be at all fun, “... sorry… I know you’re leaving a lot behind,”

“If you do this-”

“When I do this,” Marinette raises a brow at him, he does it right back.

“We should reveal our identities,”

“Oh no, what a shame,” Chat dramatically ‘faints’, “Damn that makes this so much harder,”

“You know what?” Marinette ‘thoughtfully’ taps her chin, “I can probably find a new Chat Noir,”

“No, no! Sorry,” Chat immediately stands back up, “That’s obviously not why I’m doing this,”

“I know kitty,” Marinette smiles, getting him to relax, “But you need to think this over, I’m… I’m going to go pack,”

“Don’t need to think it over,” Chat smirks, “Claws off!”

“Chat! NO!” Marinette yelps, chiding, before actually processing who it was standing before her, “Adrien?!”

“Uhh, you know me?” Adrien stands there so awkwardly Marinette just burst into laughter, “Ummm,”

“S-sorry it’s it’s just,” Marinette held her sides as she kept cracking up, “Spots off!”

Her transformation fell and at that moment Marinette couldn’t even manage to feel any anxiety at him finding out, the ‘o’ face he made was too priceless. Before she could even think of being nervous Adrien also bursts out laughing, the two ending up as wheezing messes on the rooftop. It took a long while and lots of giggling to calm down.

“Well at least I’m not leaving all my friends behind,” Marinette says to the sky, “That is if you still want to come?”

“Meet you here tomorrow Marinette,” Adrien stands up, offering a hand to Marinette, “Same time,”

“See you kitty,” Marinette waves as they part ways, for now. She had a lot she needed to do today.

Marinette doesn't sleep when she gets home. She searches deep in her draws for that special fabric she put aside. Flips through her sketchbook to find that perfect design she did once. Then gets to work making a pattern. It is well past sunrise by the time she is done. She’s late for school. It doesn't matter anymore.

Not running to class for once she makes sure her parents are free later that night. She’d like to spend all day with them, but Marinette wants to see her friends one last time. She stuffs her bag with all the presents she had made her friends for future birthdays. Might as well give them now. Lila smirks at her as she walks into class, Marinette would usually worry. It doesn't matter anymore.

“Hey girl, I was wondering, Lila said some-” Marinette cuts her off, handing Alya a pile of wrapped gifts.

“Hi, sorry I’ve been busy, kind of went into a design frenzy,” Marinette laughs sheepishly, “I was going to give them at your birthday, but I just couldn't wait,”

“Awe, girl this is amazing!” Alya holds up the jacket Marinette made a few months ago, she hugs Marinette tight, “See I told you, Lila, Marinette's just been busy!”

“Too busy to make me anything, I’m sure,” Lila says, teary eyed.

“Actually no,” Marinette smiles, enjoying the utterly shocked look.

“I made this to welcome you to the class, but then you went to Achu,” Marinette places it down with open hostility, “And, well, there wasn't really an opportunity after that,”

After that Lila has a hard time trying to twist it against her. Even the complaints that the bandanna is so much smaller than everyone else's gifts is weak as it has beautiful embroidery of a fox and ladybug, everyone cooing over how sweet and personal the design is. Back when Marinette actually believed her lie that they could start over and be friends. It also was hard to turn anyone against Marinette as she handed out presents to anyone that walked through the door. Laughing and apologizing for her absence lately, claiming the whole time she was making things for them.

When Adrien came to class they both tried to stifle their laughter. Marinette only gave him one thing, so as not to be suspicious. It would help to have all new clothes when they ran away, she would give the rest to him then. It was a scarf, one she made a while ago with the new addition of a green cat paw in the corner.

Marinette, for all intents and purposes, felt wonderful for the rest of the day. She caught up with her friends, felt closer to them than she had in a while actually. They talked and laughed, Marinette for once not encouraging them to keep quiet, joking along with them, and taking a million pictures. Madame bustier didn't complain much, after all, she had an all-new makeup bag plus more.

It was fun. And the ‘see you tomorrow’ was hollow.

Marinette was dreading going back home. She asked for a special dinner that night, saying she had a special surprise to show them. And special it was, Marinette had made a new dress for her Maman, a more casual version of her wedding dress, with a special Marinette flare, plus a matching outfit for her Papa. They smiled saying it was beautiful, just as they had with her very first design and everything she made since then. They ate together and played video games together.

Marinette asked to look at old photo albums and they spent the rest of the night pouring over them. If she slipped a few out to take with her, neither noticed.

“I love you both,” Marinette hugs them tight, imagining she’ll never see them again.

Even if they do defeat Hawkmoth, Marinette's not sure she’ll make it through the fight. She could be gone for years, or maybe never return to Paris. Marinette didn’t know if she’d ever see them again, this could be it.

“We love you too,” Her Maman smiles, cupping her cheek, “Now go to bed we don't want you to be late for school tomorrow,”

Sorry I will be

Marinette just nods, hugging them one last time before heading upstairs. She packs her bag, full of newly brought or made clothes, clothes for Adrien, food, and whatever cash she had on hand. She leaves a note, saying there's something she has to do, that she loves them both and this is in no way their fault, not to look for her but Marinette doubts they’ll listen. She grabs her bag and the miracle box, saying goodbye to her home and disappearing into the night with Tikki.

By the time she meets up with Adrien Marinette is a sobbing mess. They hug each other. Adrien's not crying but she can sense the deep sadness in him. Tikki hugs her too, getting Marinette to calm down.

“So what’s the plan?”

“Go to Gotham,” Marinette shrugs, that was really the extent of it.

“We have nowhere to go,” Chat hums, trying to act nonchalant about everything, 

“I guess this means we’re homeless,” Marinette shrugs again, she had really only planned this for herself, and none of that seemed like a concern.

“We can find an abandoned warehouse, set up shop,”

“Either way we’re going to be pretty busy,” Constantly on the run, either running from someone or running after someone.

“Well, you know what they say,” Chat smirks, “We’ll sleep when this bastard is taken down,”

“You know it,” Marinette smiles, genuinely this time, “Pound it?”

“Pound it,”

 ---

 “After last week we can indeed confirm these attacks are occurring,”

“Oh sure it wasn't like I told you a month ago,” Jason scoffs, getting glared at by Bruce for interrupting.

“Well you have to admit ‘this guy came and destroyed ten blocks’ is pretty unbelievable when everything’s unscratched,” Tim continues to tap away at his computer, “And now we know the cause,”

The footage was shakily taken from the next building over, partly destroyed. With a bright light everything was fixed.

“Magic,” Dick says needlessly.

“Meta humans,” Batman growls, “Not approved and playing at being heroes,”

“Can we really complain if they fix everything after a fight?” Duke speaks up, “The police didn't even report any casualties, they don’t seem to be rookies,”

“Magic makes them reckless,” Batman shuts the argument down, “More so if they can fix everything, what happens when they can’t?”

“So basically you want them out,” Damian cuts in, there was no point arguing over it for however long, Bruce wouldn't allow them to keep roaming the city.

“Yes,” Bruce fixes them all with a hard stare, making it clear this is an order, “When you come in contact tell them they are to leave or be removed,”

They all agreed. Damian wishes he didn’t have to waste his time worrying about some second rate wannabes thinking they could challenge Batman for the protection of Gotham. They couldn't. What did they have that Batman didn’t?

 ---

 A lot was the answer. 

Or this particular new villain. It didn’t make any sense, usually, first time villains were easier to deal with, but no, here Robin was watching as Batman fought a losing battle against them. It didn’t help that they were brainwashing civilians, turning them against the rest. Robin was given very specific instructions not to harm them. Hard when they had no such orders.

Robin barely processes that Batman is thrown through a building before the main villain is turning to him. At least he could use more drastic measures with the actual villain, unsheathing his sword Robin lunges. He trades a few blows, unfortunately doing less damage than the villain can do with a singular super powered punch. With super strength, magic and Gotham citizens being steadily taken over this was looking more like a Justice league threat by the second. Everytime the villains should be down for the count they got back up, Damian couldn't find their weakness.

Robin knows he took a wrong step as the villain doesn't rush forward to take advantage but shoots out a beam, the same one Damian had just watch turn a civilian against the rest of his family. And he has no leverage to dodge. This would be so much worse than the civilians, setting his strength against the others? Without concern for killing them? Would Damian remember?

“Watch out!” A wire wraps around Robin, yanking him out of the way. He falls at someone's feet the wire slipping away, he can hear it whirling above him. 

Damian sits up, looking to who grabbed him, ready to fight if necessary, and- Loses his breath.

She's standing over him protectively, a makeshift wire shield repelling the beams that had been causing them so much trouble with ease. Like it was second nature. She looks down at him and smiles so gently, without a hint of fear or worry. Promising she has everything under control.

There's something to be said of Batman's intimidating, steady nature. It can put people at ease in its own way and be even more effective at cutting down enemies with a glare. But this? This is warmth, assurance, a steady appearance more in line with Wonder Woman yet still completely it’s own.

“You alright?” She holds out a hand for him.

Damian snaps out of it taking her hand startling at how she actually lifts him up without any effort on his part.

“Chat you ready?”

“Ready my Lady!”

My lady? Who’s Chat?

His answer comes a second later as a spotted container comes crashing down, fracturing the street. In an instant, the wire wraps around the container a hundred times over.

“Now!” My Lady commands.

“Cataclysm!” Chat yells out, the container crumbles under his touch, wire moving in to constrict around the villain.

The villain thrashes, still being able to send out beams wildly and with their minions closing in. Chat breaks off to fend them all off while Robin tries to catch his breath, Batman still in the rubble of a building. My Lady can’t hold the villain back and fight at the same time. Damian struggles to stand up and help her.

“Lucky charm replay!” 

Robin cringes at the bright light then watches as another spotted object falls into her hands. It’s a bent tube she looks around for a few seconds before holding it up. Damian rushes forward as a beam races towards her and she makes no effort to dodge. She catches it with the tube sending it back to the villain, it hits them square in the chest with no effect. Lady nods to herself before doing the same with the next beam. This time robin watches as it misses the villain, grazing their ear and sending their ear peice flying off.

“Chat!”

“On it!” Chat Noir catches the earring from midair, calling cataclysm again turning it to dust.

Damian watches not willing to let his jaw drop as the hideous villain transforms into a normal civilian. It’s such an intriguing sight that Robin startles when something flies towards Chat Noir snatching a purple butterfly from the air and pulling it back to My Lady. A few seconds later a white butterfly is flying out a… yo yo?

“Bye bye little butterfly,” She waves the glowing white butterfly away.

That was so cute

“Who are you?” Batman demands having just recovered, motioning for them to circle around them.

“Uh, your welcome,” Chat Noir scoffs, helping the previous villain up.

“I am Ladybug, this is my partner Chat Noir,” Partner? “We’re the previous heroes of Paris,”

“Paris has no heroes,” Batman glares at them, civilians around them still closing in Robin turns his defenses towards them.

“Then that makes the past what six? Seven? Years really awkward,” Chat Noir looks at Ladybug who shrugs, a civilian takes a swing at her she dodges smoothly before throwing the pipe in the air.

“Miraculous Ladybug!” Now Robin's jaw does drop as a thousand glowing ladybugs swarm around the nearby buildings, maybe all of Gotham not even leaving a scratch behind.

“Why are you in Gotham now then?” Batman recovers first, civilians nearby blinking back into reality.

“Hawkmoth has moved his operations to Gotham to feed off the negative emotions here,” well there’s plenty of that here “It makes his Akuma more powerful and we can no longer continue to operate from Paris,”

“Then he’s in Gotham now and is my problem,” our problem “I can handle this,”

“Well you did a great job of that,” Chat Noir rolls his eyes, leaning on his staff, “How's your back by the way?”

“Chat Noir,”  Ladybug scowls, then turns to Batman, “You can’t and it’s my responsibility as Ladybug and as guardian of the miraculous,”

“What's that-”

Nightwing is interrupted by a beeping from Chat Noir's ring.

“It would be that, we have to go now,” Chat Noir salutes moving to leave, they tighten their circle surrounding them.

“You will leave Gotham,” Batman demands, this time its Ladybugs turn to glare she tsks and rounds on him, not managing to seem that threatening in her brightly colored costume.

“You don’t know who Hawkmoth is, you don’t know what Akuma are, you don't know about the miraculous, you have no clue about the guardians, you hadn't heard of whats been happening in Paris for years and you don’t know who we are or what we’ve done,” Batman is shocked under the forces of the heroine's righteous fury, “There are things going on here that you don't understand, we are here to stay until hawkmoth is defeated,”

Robin watches as she leaves a shell shocked Batman behind dissapering into Gotham’s night with her partner.

Inspiring

 —-

 “And why can’t they be in Gotham?” Damian demands from him yet again.

“No metahumans,” Bruce sighs, Damian had been unreasonably stubborn on this front, “They only cause more damage,”

“Actually they repaired a lot,” Damian leans over the desk to glare over that him, “And saved you,”

“Go to bed,” Bruce demands, Alfred busy patching up his wounds. Damian scoffs before storming out of the cave, still half in his robin uniform, “Whats wrong with him?”

“I couldn’t say, master Bruce,” Usually for Alfred that meant he knew exactly what was going on. He tied the final bandage before holding the phone out, “There's a call for you,”

Bruce shrugs on his shirt before answering. It wasn't the phone reserved for business so at least it wouldn't be that big a pain in the neck.

“Bruce,”

Never mind

“Talia,” Bruce growls, going to glare at Alfred who had already made himself scarce, “What do you want?”

“Oh please I’m not up to anything sinister,” Bruce can just imagine her waving him off with a smirk, “This time,”

“But you still want something,” Bruce acknowledged, sinister or not she can cause a lot more trouble without being out too.

“A missing person case, a friend of mine got in touch, her daughter ran away yesterday, l thought it would be right up your alley,”

“Why would you tell me this,” There was obviously more to this, there always was with Talia, “And more importantly why do you care,”

“Oh because she’s Sabine's daughter,” Bruce freezes, a million case files and reports flashing through his mind, none of which outlined a daughter let alone a family, “Surely you’ve heard of Sabine?”

“... We’re on the case,”

“Great, good luck~”

Now he has to worry about potentially one of the most dangerous assassins in the world on the loose. A shift in the shadows catches his eye before disappearing. Great. And now the whole family knew, or would soon.

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

Taglist? nope don’t have one, horrible at keeping track of them sorry~

[current-interest-writings]

Batboys and Batmoms Birthday

Requested: no, this is self indulgent

Started writing this on my birthday

Your birthday in the Wayne house hold was the most important next to Mother’s Day, well at least to the boys.

You wanted to simply sleep in on your birthday, have your husband home earlier.

And sleeping in was more manageable when only two kids were trying to climb into your bed and share it.

Even though most of your children are adults, you do wake up to a dog pile on your birthday. With Bruce taking some weight to his upper body because dick and Jason are on top of his shoulder.

Damien at first wouldn’t participate, now he’s glued to your side on most days. Especially on your birthday, Damien has wrapped himself around your arm and cuddled into you. He always places himself in between you and Bruce. ALWAYS

While Tim was just cuddled into your side, it comforts him and gets him to sleep so you can’t complain too much. The boy needs to sleep.

Cass was near the end of the bed, wanting to participate but also wanting her own space.

Duke was on the other side, kinda out of the pile but he had a leg in.

And this was just the start, you being the first one awake to see all of your children in your bed. Laughing a little to yourself knowing Bruce was right, you did need a custom sized bed to fit everyone. But they still piled on each other, Bruce and you.

One side of your large bed had almost no limbs on it. While the rest of it was covered.

The next part of your birthday was breakfast in bed, which did mean your children would have to wake up sadly.

In your thoughts about breakfast Alfred walked right into the room, and sighed.

“ are your children aware the other half of the bed is bare? Or that master Bruce is not a mattress topper?”

Bruce opened one eye

“Alfred it’s been over 10 years, I think they know. They just don’t care anymore”

*mumbles from kids*

“Shh we know, and we don’t care. Just let us sleep”

Alfred set the tray down. And gave you a look.

“ I’m going to starve on my birthday!!! 😱”

Cue kids shuffling closer to Bruce so you can eat. Damien shifted his legs closer to his father, Tim just moved down to lay his head on your leg.

But the food smell woke the rest pretty fast. And everyone knew after food, they got to get their party started.

——————————————————————

The “party” consisted of JLA members, your sons, husband, Alfred and you.

It was always small, just how you preferred it. Jon and Damien running around in the gardens, Clark and Bruce getting along for the moment. Diana relaxing and seeming human, Jason and Tim talking. Seeing the flash family run around was always funny.

The food was delicious and there was a ton of it. Your birthday was practically catered by every restaurant in the city, after all you needed enough food to feed everyone.

But the day flew by having fun with all of your friends, and eventually they had to leave. But you get to have more family time.

——————————————————————

Few minutes after guest cleared out, your children ran to grab something. While Bruce came up behind you.

“Your gift from me is coming later today, but I assure you’ll like it”

“Bruce you’ve given me everything by just being home all day, and by being social and friendly.”

Your husband just chuckled, you both could here pounding foot steps coming down the stairs. With two sets walking calmly behind them.

“Boys so we don’t have a fight in the stair well let’s go into the family room”

They all followed behind like little ducklings (or robins)

Your kids had you sit in the large arm chair, and they took the couch while your husband stood behind you.

“Well Ma how are we doing the gift order this year?”

“Jay we are doing as we’ve always done, in order”

You’ve always made them follow the adoption order. It made sense, and made it hard to argue about it whose turn it was.

Dick smiled and handed you a small box and a card. “I hope you like it”

“I love anything you kids give me”

You opened it to see a small photo book. You turned the pages to see they were blank.

You eyed your son.

“Open the card”

The card he handed you was kinda thick. But once opened was full of pictures of the kids. In their uniforms, out of them, around the manor, and school ones.

“ oh Dick... it’s wonderful!”

You have your son a tight hug. Trying not to tear up.

“Alright Ma don’t cry.. yet”

Jason handed you a card, and motioned for you to open it. What was written almost made you cry.

‘To my Ma, you’ve loved me and hugged me. You’ve taken my anger in stride, and have forgiven me for my mistakes. I didn’t get you anything huge, but I’m giving you this promise.

I’ll be coming to the manor once a week. And we can spend time together. Like we used to.

Love your favorite zombie son’

You looked at Jason and stood up, you were crying. You just hugged him tight. You whispered “love you too my little bat”

Tim was next in line and new it was small but it would be meaning full.

He handed you another card, all he wrote was

‘I love you, this family and the memories we’ve made’

It was a small flash drive, you raised you brow.

“It’s got a lot of pictures and videos of us on there, so you can always take us with you”.

Your sweet babies loved to make you cry, you swore it. You gave him a tight hug. “I love it, thank you my little robin”

Damien went next and it was kinda large, he needed some assistance from his brothers to bring it in.

“ ummi I know I am tough to deal with, but I know you hold us close because you love us. And I know you like pictures of us as well. So I made you this. “

He pulled the sheet off and it was a portrait of you, and all of your children. You just grabbed your baby and hugged him tight.

“Oh it’s beautiful my little artist!!”

You knew just where you wanted it hung.

Next went cass

She signed, still not fully comfortable talking.

“I love you mom, and I hope it keeps you warm.”

You opened the wrap to see a hand knitted scarf, beanie and cardigan. It was beautiful, she had mixed purple and black into the pattern with a dash of yellow.

You lunged a hug at your baby “I love you too sweetheart, and these definitely will”

Duke went last he also got you a card.

He just nodded with a shy smile

As you opened the card to read it, you had a feeling the tears would keep coming.

‘To my mom, you’ve taught me it’s okay to have more than one mother’s love. That by loving you I haven’t forgotten about or replaced my mother.

You’ve also shown me patience and kindness when I may have frustrated you.

Thank you,

Duke’

You opened your arms to duke while crying “hug?”

He just gave you the hug.

As he pulled away and sat down. You stared at your kids and then your husband.

“Why are all my babies so sweet!!! 😭”

And they jumped to hug you in a group hug.

——————————————————————

Later that night batwoman showed up to cover Batman and you’ve never been so thankful.

All she said was “happy birthday have fun”

And it was just you and Bruce.

[imonthinice]

The Criminal Psychology Majors, Jason Todd x Fem!Reader Part 20/?

Word Count: 2.2k

Author’s Note: Y/N - your name

***IMPORTANT*** The Criminal Psychology majors will be taking a temporary hiatus as I’m getting my second dose of the vaccine today<3 I don’t know when I’ll be coming back because I don’t want to burn myself out on this series just to give content while I’m gone, yknow

Warnings: Swearing, Forgetfulness, No beta bitch we die like Jason Todd

(Part 1) (Part 2) (Part 3) (Part 4) (Part 5) (Part 6) (Part 7) (Part 8) (Part 9) (Part 10) (Part 11) (Part 12) (Part 13) (Part 14) (Part 15) (Part 16) (Part 17) (Part 18) (Part 19) (Part 20)

They danced and sung the night away at the Gala. It ended at around 2:00am and everyone went back to the Wayne Manor. 

Somehow it came out that they should play Uno of all things. Uno is known for being the “Friendship Ruiner” or the “Relationship Ruiner” of the world. So, of course, they played it. Why wouldn't they?

Y/N dealt the cards. She was not quick about it. At all. She really struggled to deal the cards to the entire group, but she still tried. It was the thought that counted. Or at least she thought it did.

But no one seemed to mind she was a little slower with her cards-dealing. Which was different to the up-beat, face-paced life all of them lead. One would have expected that they would want a crazy fast dealer, but no one cared.

They played well into the night, with Jason ending up tapping-out and laying in Y/N’s lap. She played with his hair and leaned down to show him the good cards she got, at least until he fell asleep. She spent the time bonding with his family. 

They had always liked her. From the first time they all met her, they knew she was going to be something real. They were even impressed that Jason and her hadn’t fought yet. They were both hot-headed when they wanted to be, so when it was obvious that they put the relationship ahead of their own prides, it was something else.

They knew of the first time they had one of these moments. Y/N was at a dance competition, but Jason had to dip because of “Family Issues”, she was upset. Of course, she wanted him there and it looked like they were going to get into a huge spat about it. But, when she won that competition, she got up there and she said,

“This one is for my family, my friends, the extension of my family,” she paused, “And my boyfriend, Jason.” She smiled, “He isn’t here right now because of family issues, but he told me to follow my dreams, and here I am,” she said while raising her medal slightly, “This one was for you, baby.”

And that’s when his family knew that pride was stupid to them. Relationships are growing, changing together. And while they both stayed hot-headed, they changed that slight detail in themselves to be better partners. It was admirable.

Y/N ended up winning the last game. Half of the Waynes were sleeping, either at the coffee table where they were playing or in their rooms. She glanced over to the clock, 6:00am. She knew her parents were getting up soon, so she texted her mom,

Hey mum! So do you still want Jay and I to come over for the barbeque? 

And she nudged him a little. Everyone else had left the room, so she was trying to wake him up. So they could go to his room. He groaned.

“Baby, do you want to sleep in your bed?” she whisper-asked him, leaning down to his ear and stroking his hair. He groaned and got up, started walking to his room. She followed suit. He was on his bed and passed out before she even got up there.

She laughed and walked over to him, fumbling with his suit jacket. He mumbled something about taking him on a date first, and she laughed again.

“C’mon, work with me here, you’re going to be uncomfortable if you sleep in your suit, my love.”

He groaned and took off his jacket before unbuttoning his shirt, while she got his belt undone.

“God, take me on a date first,” he mumbled.

“Shh,” she said, placing a finger over his lips, “Just go to bed, Jay.”

He sloppily kissed her neck before she cupped his face and used her position to straddle him to the bed. She kissed his forehead before getting off of him and going through his clothes. She needed something, a shirt, pants, anything she could wear.

She fumbled with getting her own dress and gloves off, ending up throwing the dress over his desk chair, hoping it would minimize wrinkling. She undid her corset and threw it on his desk. Her heels were sitting at his desk chair. The gloves on his desk.

She crawled into bed with him, being the big spoon, burying her face behind his neck. She pulled out her phone to look at her texts. One from Artemis,

Hey, dude. That dress, oh my God?

She laughed into Jason’s shoulder and sent back,  I know. I know. I know. I killed it. You can’t say I didn’t.

You’re literally so right because again, oh my God. You did NOT need to wipe the floor with the rest of the guests. I mean, Selina was there and you were on her level.

That’s impressive. Selina is stunning. But I’d argue I was just below every Wayne lady.

Well, eventually you’ll be a Wayne lady.

C’mon. It’s been 6 months. 

You say that like the thought hasn’t crossed your mind at least once.

Yeah, but I don’t talk to anyone about it. 

You should start talking about it. Most people think about their weddings.

Okay, anyway. Why are you up so early?

I was studying most of the night with Wally.

Ah, “Studying”. Nice.

I wish! No, we were actually studying. Not like you and Jay at your little Gala. Actually had to study.

I have to study too, but exams are like next week.

Wish I could relate. Mine are today. 

And you didn’t sleep? Dude.

Shh, you’re not my mom.

She laughed and fell asleep cuddling Jason. Her phone was opened, so it died. 

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

Jason woke up first. Looking at the time, it was 12:00pm. Y/N was sleeping behind him, still loosely holding him. He smiled. He hoped that the night before had fixed some of the issues between them. Well, he hoped there was no issues.

He didn’t want work to be more stressful than it already was. But, they were having issues. He thought it was because of finals, but he feared there was more to it. Maybe it was the fact that he’s famous. Maybe it was the fact that she couldn’t handle the fame. He hoped it wasn’t anything to do with the fame.

But the comment about the people with daggers at her throat obviously wasn't about anyone else. It was the press. He knew she had issues with the press. He always would. She always would.  He wouldn’t blame her if she walked away from him because of the press. Break up or a break, she was allowed to give up because of the press. He hoped she didn’t. He hoped she never would. He didn’t want to jinx them, but he really, really, hoped that this wouldn’t end in flames.

He looked at her. He remembered the first moment he knew he loved her. They were having dinner at this hole-in-the-wall restaurant that he had seen on patrol one night. She was scarfing down the food, and he wiped away the mess on her face with his thumb. He knew then. He knew in that moment that that was it. She was it. 

He was whipped and he knew it. But every time his siblings or dad brought it up, he mentioned current or past relationships they had. The only people who weren’t whipped in the Wayne household were the women.

Or maybe the all were, they were just good at hiding it. He turned around and cuddled her back He stroked her hair. He ran his fingers through her hair. 

She did it to him a lot. Physical affection was something that he was used to at this point. He still didn’t know how to feel about it, but he had ended up letting Dick hug him more often. He didn’t say it was because of her, because she didn’t outright run up to him expecting hugs, she was okay with hand holding and small touches of affection. It wasn’t because of her that he started letting people in.

But he did think she was a turning point for him. For his affection. His love style. She gave a damn about him and made it clear. It wasn’t like love he was used to, but it also opened his mind to people trying to love him.

She shifted around a bit. She ended up turning her back to Jason so he became the big spoon, and he buried his face in her hair. She groaned and tugged at the blanket on his bed, pulling it onto the two of them. He helped her get it on them. She groaned again.

“You up?” he whispered.

“No... I’m in deep sleep,” she said with a slur to her speech.

“My mistake, really.”

“It is.”

He pulled her closer, “Can you wake up?”

“No.”

“That’s sad. I wanted to talk.”

“You can talk.”

“Okay so,” he said, “I realised something. Some people would say you’re changing me, that I’m becoming someone else because of you,” he paused, “I’d have to disagree. You’re not doing anything.”

“Uh huh.”

“You’re just inspiring me to do better. You influence me. You don’t intentionally go in and change me, I change because I love you.”

“That’s nice honey.”

“You could pretend you’re interested in what I have to say, my love.”

“I’m tired, Jay.”

“I danced you to Hell, I guess.”

She groaned, “I guess I can’t go back to bed, now,” she flexed her wrist, “You’ve interrupted my sleep.”

He cuddled in closer to her, “I am not sorry.”

“Of course you’re not, why would you be?” she said while she turned to face him, “You just want to see me.”

“Damn, you got me.”

She yawned, “We need to study eventually.”

“Don’t remind me.”

“I just did.”

“School’s annoying. It’s on every last never but also none of them. It’s stressful but I also met you from it. It’s something I excel at but also causes me pain.”

“I know, babe. I know,” she said as she searched for her phone, finding it, dead and under her leg. “Fuck, killed my phone.”

“Where did you even have that all night?”

“Dress has pockets. But I didn’t bring my charger,” she sighed. “I had texted my mum too.”

“Texted your mom about what?”

“She wants us to go to a family barbeque after exams.”

“That’s so suburban of your family.”

“Yet they live in a massive city. I guess you'll see my family? you like them, don't you?” she asked. 

He had met her family in January of that year. He got along with her mom and dad, in spite of the language barrier between him and her dad. There was difficulty understanding each other, but they got along in their love for rock music. It warmed Y/N’s heart.

Her mom liked him just because he made her happy. They didn’t really need to get along, but they did. They both cooked, and her mom had dragged him into helping her when Y/N was watching figure skating with her dad. Apparently they hit it off.

“I have literally no idea,” he said.

“How do you not know?”

“Your sister has something off about her.”

“You know, that’s fair. I don’t blame you for that one.”

“Yeah, have you noticed she’s very... obsessed with vigilantes?”

“And you thought I was obsessed,” she joked, “Yeah, she takes it a little too far. The whole, “I want to marry a vigilante to infiltrate and kill them” thing was obviously a joke, but I feel like there was some truth to it. That scares me.”

“Thank God I’m not the only one.”

“If you don’t like her, don’t worry about it. i don’t care if you like her.  We’ve had  a difficult relationship all or lives. If you can be civil, it’s a win.”

“Did you have an ex openly hate your sister?”

“Yep. And he’s an ex for a reason.”

“That’s fair. I would hate it if someone openly hated one of my siblings.”

“Unless it’s Dami.”

“Unless it’s Dami, that’s very true.”

“Still don’t know what you have against that kid, he’s very sweet.”

“That’s what he wants you to think.”

“Well, then its working.”

“What a master manipulator,” he laughed. “It’s the principle of the matter, Y/N.”

“It’s the principle of the matter, Y/N,” she mocked.

“Okay listen,” he laughed, “It is. He’s a menace.”

“But you love him.”

“It’s unfortunate. He's my brother, but he is also whatever. I don’t know. He’s amazing, he’s a genius, but who knows. Maybe one day we won’t fight all the time.”

“Imaging hoping you don’t fight with your sibling.”

“Family issues, amirite?”

She groaned and got over him, “Where are you going?” he asked.

“Fuck, I don’t know. Just need to get up, to be fair.”

“Coffee?”

“Eh, probably not.”

“That’s new.”

“You betcha. I don’t feel the affects of caffeine withdrawal yet.” She looked at her dress, it was wrinkled. Which was whatever. She knew it was going to happen. She went searching for all her stuff and put it on his desk. It was spread all out over his room, she didn’t know how it happened.

“How did your shit end up everywhere?” he asked.

“Probably the same way that all your shit ended up everywhere? I have no idea.”

“What, did we fuck?”

“No!” she laughed, “Do you not remember?”

“Days are blurring together, so.”

“Well that’s not... normal?”

[redhoodieone]

Welcome Home

A/N: Hi everyone! This is an old fic that I’m re-posting for those who want to read it. Enjoy!

WARNINGS: Language and Smut.

  I knew my family was different the moment I found out my adoptive father was Batman. I was just a ten-year-old girl when I snuck down the stairs at midnight for a drink of water and spotted Batman leaving a trail of blood from his study and calling out for Alfred for help. The moment our eyes locked, Bruce instantly knew that I was clearly aware of his secret. He had also confessed it was him who saved me from a shootout that my parents were involved in and that it was him, as Batman. I felt I owed Bruce my own life for saving me, and I vowed to keep my father’s secret and pray that he would return home safely every night back to me.

It didn’t help that I soon discovered my adoptive older brother Dick Grayson was Robin. Not only did I have to keep his secret as well, but it made it more impossible to not have a crush on him. I mean, Dick has such a charming personality, beautiful baby blue eyes, and a devilish smile that can make any girl crawl on her hands and knees. And that ass…

I later found myself becoming the second Robin once Dick left to assume his own identity, Nightwing. Bruce trusted me, and he saw potential in me the second I told him I couldn’t see myself being a hero forever. Perhaps he never really wanted me to be his sidekick and figured if I got it out of my system that I could resume my life as a sixteen-year-old and do normal teenager activities. As if my life was normal anyways.

But things changed as soon as I was finally embracing myself as a hero. Bruce had taken in a new kid, Jason Todd. He was a troublemaker, a rebel, and a mysterious kid, who had never even spoken to me unless he had to. I don’t think my age helped the situation either; I was a couple of years older than him and he may not have seen me as an equal. But of course, the dark haired, icy blue eyed, bad attitude boy was given the Robin title, and I was removed because of a patrol-gone-wrong situation.

Stupid Harley Quinn and her baseball bat. Who knew one hit to my knee could bench me for two months (Alfred added an additional five months of rest).

Then the unthinkable happened. The second Robin was killed by the Joker. Jason Todd’s death put Bruce into a depression, and he swore he would never put another kid’s life in danger. Our father and daughter relationship broke apart before my very eyes. I spent my remaining teenage years in the mansion isolated, except for Alfred’s loving company.

I had graduated high school on time and I quickly decided to go to Gotham University to escape the Bat family. Before I moved out, I discovered Bruce had taken in another kid, Tim Drake, who was currently the new Robin. Was I hurt? Of course, I felt I was somehow replaced. Would I miss the Bat family? Maybe. Maybe not.

I did in fact wish the new younger Robin good luck. When Tim looked up at me, his light blue eyes were so innocent and frightened about me leaving him behind. I didn’t know why he would be so upset about me leaving; wouldn’t he want all of Bruce’s attention without me hanging around the mansion?

Now I’m twenty-one-years-old, and I’m still a student at Gotham University. Alfred had just called and informed me Bruce wants me back home.

As I sit in a taxi while anxiously waiting to pull up to Wayne Manor, I honestly don’t know why Bruce wants me back at home. Alfred has kept me up to date about the Bat family incidents and activities I have missed out those few years such as:

Dick Grayson becoming a womanizer (I saw it coming) and how he’s juggling working as a police officer and Nightwing. He’s still the favorite and golden child in Bruce’s eyes.

Jason Todd is back from the dead, and he’s currently operating his own team: Red Hood and the Outlaws (who knew he was leadership material underneath that thick skull of his?).

Tim Drake is Red Robin (does the fast food chain restaurant know about his superhero name?), and he’s currently assisting the Teen Titans when necessary while simultaneously aiding Bruce with detective work.

Damian Wayne is Bruce Wayne’s unknown biological child. I think he’s about fifteen-years-old now; from what I remember the last time I spoke to Alfred. I met Damian once, when Bruce asked me to meet him once Talia al Ghul practically dropped him off at Bruce’s doorstep. The boy was a little shit: bratty, stuck up, and insensitive. Even though he is the spitting image of Bruce, minus the different colored eyes (Bruce has blue and Damian’s are green), Damian claims he is set to take over the cowl when Bruce is either dead or done. God help us all…

But I still can’t figure out why I am needed back home. Is Alfred sick? Is Bruce dying after fighting all these years? Is it one of my brothers?

I jump in surprise once the taxi comes to a hard stop. After paying the man, I grab my duffel bag and I climb the front steps that I suddenly remember jumping off them as a kid. Alfred scolded me many times, and I still did it because being bad was fun.

I scoff loudly, and I jump down the five steps that would have given Alfred a heart attack. Maybe I haven’t changed as much as I thought.

I find the wooden front door unlocked, which is odd considering Alfred always makes sure to lock it. As a matter of fact, Alfred hasn’t greeted me like he always does when I come home. Where is Alfred?

After I unwrap my scarf, I pull my hoodie over my head to be more comfortable in the warm house. Sadly, I forgot to do laundry yesterday, so I came home in just my black yoga pants and red tank top. What would Alfred say?

I kick off my shoes and walk to the kitchen barefoot. Pulling my long hair into a ponytail, I notice a note on the counter that’s written for me. I unfold the note and stare at the nicest, well done cursive handwriting only one man can do here.

 Dear Lady Y/N,

I sincerely apologize for not being there to greet you properly. Master Bruce had wanted me to take my holiday to London early, and Lord knows I can use a week to myself after stitching up countless wounds, tidying up bedrooms and Bat caves, and playing messenger between you and your father. I have a cooked roast with garlic mash potatoes in the refrigerator if you are hungry. Do heat it up and perhaps show your father and brothers how to use the microwave.

I dearly love you and the boys,

 Love Alfred Pennyworth

P.S.

Look into the highest cabinet above the refrigerator, and you will discover a jar of freshly baked chocolate chip cookies just for you.

 I grin widely, and before I can turn around and find the cookies, I’m stuck between the counter and a tall, hard body behind me. I freeze.

“Welcome home, Y/N. I missed you so much,” Bruce whispers in my ear. I can feel his hot breath above my shoulder and neck. The familiar smell of his expensive cologne fills my nostrils. His large hands rub my legs and grip onto my hips very hard. “Did you miss me?”

“H-hi dad. W-what are you doing?” I ask softly, but I know it came out like a whisper. One of his hands is holding my waist, while the other caresses my abdomen. It feels strange considering Bruce is supposed to be my father, and we shouldn’t be this close or even touching each other. But a part of me wants to keep feeling his hands on me and see what he does next.

“Holding you. Smelling you. Touching you,” he answers, as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world. He breathes harder when I press my backside against his front by accident. “It appears you want this too. Am I correct, Y/N?”

His hand pulls down my yoga pants enough, so he can reach into my underwear. Bruce continues to breathe hard from his nose when his fingers find my core. His thumb rubs fast circles on my clit, while he pushes two fingers inside me. I bite my bottom lip to stop a loud moan from coming out of me, but he appears he’ll have none of that. He stops fingering me.

“You better be loud, or I won’t let you cum, Y/N.”

Before I can beg him to keep going, he turns my face, so I can look him in those cold, pale blue eyes. “Please tell me you’re…not a virgin.” Bruce’s face is twisted in pleasure from just fingering me, but I can tell his lips are trembling and there’s a soft but pleading look in his eyes. This must hurt him as much as it’s hurting me.

“I-I’m not,” I confess, and wonder if he would change his mind if I said I was.

“Who was it with?” Bruce demands. He kisses along my shoulder to my neck before he bites on my soft spot. I hiss in pain and I grind into him again.

“Josh Mitchell. I was sixteen,” I answer harshly.

“Was he any good?”

Before I can answer, Bruce shoves the front of my body onto the counter, while he pulls down my yoga pants. My adrenaline is rushing, and I can feel myself wetting the counter from just his roughness. I can feel him unzip his pants and I can already imagine this thick, hard cock fucking me into oblivion.

“No, no he wasn’t good at all!” I cry out.

“Good, I’m actually relieved to hear that,” Bruce says, as he starts to stroke himself. “Do you want me to fuck you, Y/N?”

I want to turn around and watch him jack off. Hearing him pleasure himself isn’t enough. Bruce then jams two fingers back into my pussy and I whimper loudly. It has been too long since I’ve been intimate with a man. I need his cock now!

“I asked you a question, Y/N. Do I need to remind you who you are supposed to answer to?” he says seriously before adding a third finger inside me. I grip the counter and I breathe harder. I find myself rubbing my pussy on the edge of the smooth countertop for more friction, but he grabs my hips and stops me. “Now, do you want me to fuck you, Y/N, or should I leave you here, so you can dry hump the countertop alone?”

I growl louder, while my nails scratch the counter top. “YES! Yes, I want you to fuck me, Dad!”

As soon as those words left my mouth, I immediately wonder if I killed the mood. Why would I call him ‘dad’ when we’re about to have hot, rough sex in the kitchen? I need to apologize. I push myself up on my elbows and I shift my head to the side to apologize. I open my mouth to speak but stop when Bruce’s eyes darkened, and he growls as he slams his thick cock inside me.

I moan louder than I have in my entire life. His cock fills me up so much that I fear I won’t be able to walk straight for the next week or two. Bruce lifts my legs up and continues to shove me against the counter with every hard thrust. He wasn’t kidding when he said he was going to fuck me. The man is practically drilling into me with no kindness at all.

“Oh fuck! You’re so fucking tight. So wet and so hot,” Bruce groans out. With each thrust, I can feel he wants to let go and fuck me like he owns me.

“Go ahead, Dad. Fuck me. Fuck me like I’m yours and only yours,” I tempt him playfully.

Bruce growls and rams his cock faster into me. He keeps knocking the air out from my lungs, and I can feel my body pulsating against his. I grip the countertop harder each time, and I know my knuckles are turning white and becoming numb every second. With one hand on my hips, Bruce moves his other hand up my tank top to hold my tits.

“No bra? You’re a bad girl,” Bruce says in between panting.

“I forgot to do laundry,” I choke out.

“Excuses,” he manages to say, as he holds me up more, so he can penetrate me deeper. His cock is hitting a deeper spot in me. It must be my g-spot, because I have read about it but never actually felt it to know. I can feel myself clenching his dick tightly, and I know I’m getting closer to release. “You wanted me and your brothers to see your tits, huh?”

“Maybe,” I cry out louder than what I intended to. Fuck, what if one of my brothers hears me? They’ll really think I’m insane for fucking our father and for loving it every second. Bruce readjusts our position once more, so he can hit that spot continuously. “I-I think I’m going to cum!”

“Not yet, you better not!” Bruce growls, and drills into me harder and faster. With his powerful thrusts and the constant friction from the countertop on my clit, I know for a fact that I can’t last longer. His hands hold onto my hips while he fucks me harder than before.

I become a moaning mess. I can feel my mouth drop open because I feel liquid coming out from my core. Did I just squirt? What the hell is happening to me?

The sounds of skin on skin is louder because of my mess. I drop my head onto the counter while Bruce continues to fuck me. Before I can catch my breath, Bruce chuckles and lifts me up. “I just made you squirt. That has never happened before, has it?”

“No, that was my first time,” I answer breathlessly. He kisses my neck.

“You’re so wet,” Bruce grunts into my ear. Breathing heavily, he lifts my hips again, so he can rub my clit with his fingers. “You’re making a mess all over my cock. You’re such a bad girl.”

“I’m your bad girl,” I moan out, as I can feel another orgasm threatening to take over my body.

“Fuck yes, you are!” Bruce groans, and continues to shove his cock into my soaking wet pussy.

With every rough thrust, I know Bruce won’t last. I whimper once more when my pussy clenches his dick as he fucks me through my orgasm. A few more hard thrusts, Bruce pulls out and turns me over onto my back. He jacks himself off as I watch his cum spurt out all over my stomach.

Just seeing his hard, veiny thick cock before me turns me on once more. I lick my lips at how the tip of his dick glistens with his cum.

Bruce sighs heavily, and just when I think I should try to get up and clean myself, he pulls me up and kisses me. He shoves his tongue into my mouth, and we explore each other’s mouths as if this was our last chance to. He pulls away from me and rests his forehead against mine.

“You’re mine, Y/N. You belong to me, and the Batfamily. I don’t care who wants you, because you will never give them what you have given me. Do you understand?” Bruce asks, before giving me his famous bat glare.

“I understand, and I promise,” I swear before he kisses me once more.

“Good, now go wash up,” Bruce instructs before he helps me off the counter.

I grab a paper towel and wipe Bruce’s cum off my stomach before I pull up my yoga pants. As soon as I toss the damped paper towel into the trash, I immediately notice Dick Grayson is standing there at the entrance of the kitchen staring at me with fire in his eyes.

[why-this-kolaveri-machi]

Fic: move on

i’ve been meaning to write this for a while and finished it during a much needed spurt of inspiration - yay!

summary: missing scene from titans 3.08. dick returns from the hospital to the manor, battered physically and mentally. gar finds him.

warnings: big honking SPOILERS for titans 3.08. deals heavily with dick’s canonical mental health issues, including hallucinations.

move on

The manor is quiet when Dick comes back from the hospital; he’s not sure where the others are gone, but he thinks that Gar is still in the batcave. He’s noticed that Gar spends almost all of his time down there these days, from having his meals there to taking catnaps in between obsessively researching on the batcomputer. Dick knows that it’s not a terribly healthy situation, but he’s not sure how Gar would react to that opinion coming from him. It occurs to him that he can’t be a leader and a Bat at the same time, but that level of self-awareness is too much for him to process right now, so he lets the thought go.

For now, he relishes this rare moment of peace. Late afternoon sunlight slants in through the floor-to-ceiling windows and the silence is like a blanket over the sharp edges of the near-constant state of crisis that Dick and his team have been in the last week or two. Dick doesn’t have any immediate lead to follow as far as Jason or the Scarecrow is concerned, and… it’s okay. He’ll get back on that after a minute.

Just… a minute.

He’s got a headache to worry about, for starters: the doctor who discharged him told him it was a ‘mild concussion’ but that seems to be underselling the way his head throbs insistently like there’s someone in there jabbing his brain with a pickaxe, or the way his vision blurs without warning, or how the mere thought of food is enough to make his gorge rise. His chest twinges with every inhale and exhale, both from cracked ribs and the just-starting-to-heal bullet wound. Exhaustion seeps into every pore of his body in the wake of too much adrenaline and too much stress in too short a time, and it makes his joints ache and his skin burn.

And, oh. He’s hallucinating. Again. He thinks about the script for antipsychotics he has tucked somewhere in his bathroom cabinet, but choosing between taking them or just powering through with no treatment is a bit like a choice between the devil and the deep blue sea: not being completely in touch with reality could turn out to be a liability on the field, but he knows from experience that meds take a long time to get used to, and he can’t afford to be drowsy or stiff while jumping off buildings and leading a team of superheroes. 

So… the hallucinations are just there, and he manages. He thinks about talking about them with Leslie, but again… too much to process. He’s not sure he has the vocabulary to talk about them or the feelings they engender. Alexithymia, Leslie might say. Who knows.

He’s sunk enough into the plush leather sofa in the living room that he feels enveloped by it, warm for the first time since scarfing down a burger last night while talking to Barbara and Kory. He even imagines that he can smell Bruce’s cologne, and the thought creates a pang in his chest. He misses Bruce. Even when he ran away, even when he thought he hated and resented Bruce with every fibre of his being, there was something reassuring about searching for Gotham news on his phone and seeing amateur clips of Batman foiling some nefarious thing or the other scattered across his social media feed. Hell, he’d even settle for hallucinating Bruce now, as caustic and knife-tongued as he can be. The complete radio silence is unnerving.

(The prospect of him never leaving Gotham again is much worse.)

“Dick?”

Gar’s voice startles Dick, and he snaps his eyes open (when did he close them/?). A fresh bolt of pain ricochets in his chest at the sudden motion, and Dick leans forward and hisses. 

“Sorry!” Gar says quickly. He’s standing in front of Dick, a little closer than before, his hands up like he wanted to touch Dick but stopped himself from doing so at the last minute. “You okay?”

Dick nods. If the movement makes his vision wobble for a second, well, it’s not like he or Gar can do anything about it right now, can they? “I took a bit of a spill but I’m okay.”

“Yeah, Commissioner Gordon called,” Gar says, “and she said you nearly died.”

Dick spreads his arms. “A little banged up but in one piece and ready to go. The accident wasn’t as bad as it looked.”

He watches Gar chew his lip and look at him sceptically. Dick misses when Gar would act like Dick hung the moon, hanging onto his every word and following him without question. He’s done so much to shatter that trust and innocence that he’s lucky that Gar’s sticking with him at all; it’s so similar to what he thought Bruce did to him that--

No. No. Still can’t process thoughts like that. His brain is fried until this crisis is done and dusted.

(that’s when you usually throw yourself into the next crisis)

Gar sighs. “You know, Dick, we’ve got all hands on deck here. It’s ok to take a break to give yourself time to heal.”

He looks tired, Dick thinks. He doesn’t remember the last time his team had to unwind, to relax and be themselves without racing against the clock to prevent some catastrophe or the other. He’d tried to schedule weekly movie nights back in San Francisco and tried to take Gar and Conner out as much as he could, but he was always… aware of this barrier between them, the way he couldn’t get their wires to align enough to connect, no matter how hard he tried. He loves them, and knows that they love him too, but no matter how hard he works to deserve that love, he’s afraid that he’ll never succeed, and so terribly, terribly afraid that they’ll realise this and leave him for good.

(The only barrier is that stick up your ass, Hank would say to all of this, and the thought, unbidden, is so much more painful than his cracked ribs or his concussed brain that Dick takes the thought and the ocean of grief it’s floating on and crams it into its dedicated box inside his head before he can break down.)

Dick sets his jaw and gets up from the (warm, warm) couch and shrugs his jacket on. “I’m healing,” he says, “and we’ll all have time to sleep once we can stop whatever Crane’s doing and get a hold of Jason.” He turns to get his phone just as he’s putting his arm in the jacket sleeve, and it’s a mistake: the pain is like a vise around his ribcage, stealing his breath, and he stumbles. Gar is quick to catch him, and they both stand like that for a long moment while Dick catches his breath.

“Dick,” Gar says, and Dick can hardly stand the softness in that word, the familiarity, the sorrow. It’s too much. He can’t deal with this right now. He needs to focus.

He gently shrugs off Gar’s hold. Behind Gar, Dick-as-a-little-boy cocks his head at him, wide eyes blinking like an owl.

“You got any updates on Jason?”

Gar steps back, takes a deep breath. He looks resigned for a moment, then determined. “As a matter of fact,” he says, “I do.”

[phis-corner]

I saw your Cass x Marinette one shot. How would the Batfam and/or JL react to Marinette?

Bruce:

“Are you sure I’m not allowed to adopt her?”

“Well, if you do ever change your mind, I already have adoption papers prepared.”

Welcomes Mari to the family with only a tiny bit of snooping into her background, because Cass is scary. 

Still wishes that he could adopt her, but she’s going to end up part of the family either way, so whatever makes Cass happy works for him.

Dick:

“Another one, B?”

“What? What do you mean you didn’t adopt her? She fits all your criteria!”

“Oh. OHHHH.”

Lots and lots of hugs and squeals.

Instantly accepts her as a sister.

They’re gymnastics buddies now. He absolutely refuses to lose to her in a stretching contest.

Does his best to be a Mom™ and tries to cut her off from coffee too.

“We already have one coffee gremlin. Two of them will be unstoppable.”

Jason:

“New Wayne?” 

“Cassie’s girlfriend?”

“All right then. Am I allowed to corrupt this one?”

“So Bats can convert everyone to his methods, but I’m not allowed to teach even one of his kids to fire a gun?”

“You already know how to fire a gun? I want to see this.”

Mari isn’t as good as he is, but boy is she close.

Declares Marinette the best Wayne after Cass, because it’s universally agreed upon that Cass is the best.

Spars her a lot. Their skill levels are perfectly matched, so he only gets his butt kicked about half the time.

Tim:

Starts running a background check as soon as Cass tells them about her.

“Her name is Marinette, you said? I’ve got eight Marinettes that live in Paris with an age within five years of yours. Ooh, look, this one looks like Ladybug. Marinette Dupain-Cheng. Is that her?”

When he meets her in person, the first thing he does is ask if Adrien knows about the voicemail incident.

“Of course I know about that. Had to make sure that you were good enough for Cass, didn’t I?”

Once Marinette proves herself (aka bribing him with delicious coffee-flavored sweets), they become coffee buddies.

That mostly consists of helping each other sneak in coffee beans for their secret stashes when they are cut off from it by their family, but it also involves the occasional outing to a cafe where they make various baristas nearly wet themselves.

Damian:

Challenges Marinette to a duel for his sister’s hand.

“Cassandra only deserves the best. Are you worthy of my sister?”

It was originally a duel to the death. Cass stopped that with a look.

They fight for an hour and a half before Marinette finally pins him to the ground.

He is (mildly) impressed and allows Marinette to ‘continue courting my sister.’

Marinette finds out about his childhood and has to be stopped from portalling over to Nanda Parbat and killing both Ra’s and Talia.

“First Cass, now Damian? How dare they?”

Anyway, since she’s not allowed to murder, she settles for making all of Damian’s favorite childhood foods. Every. Day.

Steph:

“You’re Marinette! Oh my gosh, you’re the girl who makes Cass go all pink and flustered and-”

Cass tackles her to shut her up.

“We’re besties now. No takebacks.”

Marinette tries her best to get Steph to stop eating so many waffles with other tasty treats, to no avail.

“Yeeeah, those were great, but waffles.”

Babs:

“Think twice before you enter the Wayne household, Marinette. Seriously. It’s f*cking crazy in there, and once you enter, they’ll never let you leave.”

“Oh no. You’ve already met them, haven’t you?”

“Well, I tried.”

Does a deeper background check than Tim, somehow.

“Did you ever tell Adrien that you made the scarf?”

“How do I know? Security cameras, duh.”

Batman is scary, sure, but Oracle is the truly terrifying one.

She knows everything. Literally everything.

Including which Hello Kitty stickers Marinette used on which folders for each subject back in collége.

Duke:

Stares into her eyes very seriously.

Continues doing this for a very long time, until Marinette is positively sweating.

“Save yourself before it’s too late.”

Behind him, a crash sounds as Jason throws Tim off the side of the stairs, just as Dick walks past.

A paintball whizzes by his head as Damian charges in, screeching a war cry.

Cass joins the fray and takes them all down in thirty seconds, standing victorious, until she’s sniped by a paintball and dramatically falls to the floor.

Alfred is holding a second paintball gun. 

Alfred wins.

BONUS

Clark:

Is at the Manor for an interview. Enters the living room to see them all congregated on various seats.

Eyes glance over Marinette at first.

Blinks, then looks at her again.

“Bruce. Did you get another kid?”

Marinette cheerfully informs him that she actually turned down the adoption papers.

“I-is that allowed? Is that allowed???”

Diana:

Also declares herself Mari’s mother.

“She is a fierce warrior, this one. I must take her under my wing.”

“You are the wielder of the Ladybug miraculous as well? Well, since Bruce has not managed to adopt you, I must do so now. Mother would love for her successor to be her granddaughter.”

Is disappointed when Marinette insists that she has ‘two parents, both alive, and I am very happy with them!���

“Alive, you say? Do you need me to fix that?”

“NO!”

“Well, all right then.”

Decides to be her mother in spirit.

Starts showing up at the Manor weekly to train her.

[writefinch]

Dear Dairy, Pt.1 (cn: noncon, Mm, kidnap, emphasis on *forced* feminization, induced lactation, milking, bondage, drugging, induction of gender dysphoria in a cis guy, things of that nature)

7th July 2018

Cold day today. I dusted off my scarves for the first time this year. Not literally, they'd been vacuum sealed and packed away when the weather turned in October. I threw out the red and yellow knit scarf, something I should have done last year, as it's far too Harry Potter. I was going to pick out the UMIST scarf but that felt a touch dull for the first scarf of the year. In the end I picked out the green silk paisley, which I felt provided a contrast with the pink shirt. I wore them with the second-hand grey Armani that I've yet to have tailored; I haven't yet decided if it's worth the trouble. I'm leaning towards yes, as I received two compliments today, one from Jason's database administrator, a charming and flirtatious--to say nothing of attractive--lady from Perth. We've talked about the possibility of meeting up for drinks at some point, and I'm increasingly inclined to take her up on the offer.

Experiment C2 is adjusting to his newfound freedom since his release last week. It was sad to see him go, and I'll cherish the time we spent together, our first night especially when he violently objected to the idea of servicing me. Oh, how he kicked and fought, clawing at his neck chain, scratching me, biting, swinging wildly. He bloodied my nose rather viciously and left me in no mood for sex that night, to the extent that I almost let him go entirely.

Of course, his demeanor changed altogether after I bagged him. A clear plastic bag over his head, taped around his neck, watching him gasp and writhe for air that isn't there, screaming his silly little head off until he's sure that he's taken his final breath, then tearing a tiny hole over his nostrils. I let him suck in four generous lungfuls of air before I bagged him the second time, and I went through seven bags before allowing him a rest. After that he became such an agreeable and solicitous cocksleeve you'd have thought he was raised in a merchant marine!

Still, he was unsuitable both physiologically and psychologically for the experimental interventions, and I only have so much space in the cellar, so I had to let him go. Some of my social acquaintances are keeping a close eye on him. He's been told that running his mouth will lead to nothing but the cold grave, and I believe he's a bright enough lad to take that to heart.

I'm beginning the search for his replacement tomorrow.

20th July 2018

I've found him! I've found him I've found him, he is everything I've been looking for, he is perfect, it is as if God placed that boy on earth for no other purpose than my need for him. I can barely contain my excitement.

He is an itinerant surf bum, twenty years of age, single, underemployed, estranged from his family. He has flowing blond hair, a few wisps under his chin that can barely be called a beard, deep brown eyes, and a lithe, rangy figure that seems to be slowly growing into the top-heavy carrot-shaped build of a classic surfer. He's been living in town since May, surfing most days, doing temp jobs, lodging in the spare bedroom of a friend of mine.

What a perfect physique! His body is accustomed to being dashed over rocks and whipped by surf, what fun I will have finding and surpassing his tolerances for pain! Oh, to restrict and ration out air to a boy who has trained himself to hold his breath underwater since he was a young teenager, to see those taut muscles stretched over a rack, I cannot wait, I can't wait.

I won't speak or write his name. I now take every action with the foregone conclusion that he is mine, and that he is already Experiment C3. In my mind, he is already in my cellar.

My friend has kindly allowed him to get behind on his rent, and C3 apparently plans to move to Sydney in ten day's time, driving out across the country in his decade-old Ford Ka, surfboard strapped to the roof. When he disappears a few days before that, people will assume he left to avoid paying his rent.

They won't be wrong, in a sense. C3 won't be worrying about rent for a long, long time...

26th July, 2018

It hasn't been an easy choice, and it is in fact a decision I've been struggling with for some time now, but I've decided to let my hair go grey. I'm almost forty for heaven's sake, and I noticed my first grey a year before the financial crisis. Ever since then I've been religious in my application of dye and toner, carefully concealing each and every one of the pale little buggers that pops up, but it's gone from something I'd do after a haircut to something I'm doing twice a week. I won't rush it, I'm going to ease off the dye over the course of the next year or so, but by next July I'll be au naturelle salt and pepper.

Work remains dull but tolerable. I know I'm blessed to be able to do most of my duties from home given my hobbies, but there's a certain sense of removal from everything, as if it's not really a job at all and I'm back at university doing a coursework-intensive compulsory module. On the other hand, I do enjoy going to the office in a way that I did not when I was going there five days a week!

Experiment C3 is screaming his head off again, I think. It's very faint, and I've turned off the air conditioning in the sitting room so I can hear it coming up from below. I suppose I can't blame the boy, given the circumstances. He hasn't seen me since the drugs wore off, and he's in the same configuration I first kept C2 in: his feet are in snowboard boots and locked into clips in the floor, his neck is in a steel collar connected to an eyebolt on the floor by a one-metre chain, his wrists are cuffed and pulled up towards the ceiling by another chain, he has noise-cancelling headphones strapped over his ears blaring white noise, and he's wearing a blindfold snug enough to prevent him from even blinking underneath it.

He's been there for seven hours now, since three in the morning. He can neither stand nor sit nor lie down, he cannot turn around, he cannot see--though it is pitch black in the cellar even if he wasn't blindfolded--he cannot hear his own voice, and I very much doubt he has any idea how he got there.

As I said, I haven't been down to see him properly yet, so I'm monitoring him at a distance via CCTV and also his pulse and blood oxygen readings. I'm keeping him watered through an IV drip and I'm not at all worried about feeding him just yet, though I'm sure he'll be getting hungry given that I emptied out the contents of his guts with an enema while he was still unconscious. I want him properly good and woozy from sleep deprivation before I introduce myself, either forty-eight hours or until his vitals get a tad skiffy, whichever is shorter. By my word, I am not an impatient man!

Of course, given the close monitoring required, I'll only be getting a few more hours sleep than he will. I suspect I'm getting the better half of the deal. Ah, the poor thing just wet himself. He needn't worry, it's all going into the bucket between his feet, and it'll go to good use later.

I've calmed myself down since his capture, for practical reasons as much as anything else, but I am still abuzz with energy. I am already looking forward to writing my next entry!

28th July 2018

I introduced myself to C3 today.

He spent an impressively long time in the stress position before he was unable to push his legs and instead dangled from his wrists, almost twelve hours, at which point I let the wrist rope go slack and allowed him to collapse. To prevent him from sleeping I intermittently blasted him with high pressure cold water whenever his pulse dropped below 100, for about a further four hours until I decided he'd had enough rest and strung his wrists back up.

He lasted five hours that time, so I let his wrists down again and stood sentry with a paintball gun, giving him a good and proper three-round burst whenever he stopped whimpering. Up again, barely an hour, down again, where I pinned him to the floor with wiring from an electric fence, set to deliver low-intensity zaps across his arms and chest whenever it seemed as if sleep was a possibility. He only got a few shocks, I think the first few put him in such a state of alarm that he didn't dare relax enough to be given another.

I strung him up a few more times, sometimes combining the motivators--his quivering thighs made a delightful target for paintballs as he tried to hold them in a crouching squat--until we reached the forty-ninth hour. I then played my recorded introduction tape through his headphones. It was identical to the one I'd played for C1 and C2, which was itself similar to the one recorded for B4 through B9.

Of course, as the deaf and blindfolded boy was crouch-squatting in place hearing my voice tell him that his old life was forfeit, that he was livestock now, that he would be used as a sex slave, that disobedience would only lead to misery, and the details of the hormone treatments he would be on, I was standing in front of him, masturbating.

My timing was impeccable. Just as the last lines of the recording said "if you're wondering when you'll meet me, I'm right in front of you," I came all over his whorish face. I'm afraid I'm no Peter North, I've no more than four spurts and the first one is always rather watery, but I nailed him right between the lips with one burst and smeared the rest over his face with the tip of my cock. He froze up rather delightfully during the whole ordeal, barely flinching as I cleaned off the tip in his hair.

I took the microphone and spoke directly into his headphones. I told him he'd been in his predicament for two days so far, that he was to obey my simple instructions, and that if he did he would be allowed food and allowed to rest. I told him that I would not require him to speak at any point during these instructions, and that if he so much as whispered I'd keep him strung up without food for another two days. He nodded in agreement, which earned him a hard slap, as I'd not asked him to nod or shake his head. I told him then to nod if he understood, which he did.

I freed one of his arms at a time, telling them to keep them in place and move them only as and when I told him to move them. He obeyed--a far quicker learner than C1--and I put him into the straitjacket. I unlatched his boots one at a time, putting him in ankle cuffs with a short length of heavy chain between them. I injected him in the buttocks with his first dose of anti-androgens, a painkiller, and his hormonal cocktail, and I removed the IV from his arm.

At that point I led him to his cage, a 2x3 metre cell, 1.5 metres high. I removed his blindfold, though it did him little good as it was pitch black in the entire room--I'd switched off the lights and was working via a set of light amplification goggles--and pushed him onto the wipe-clean bedroll.

"Lie still like a good little boy until the lights turn on, and then you can help yourself to some food," I said to him. He made a sound as if to respond, then silenced himself, lying still in his bonds.

The lights were on a timer, and they came on harsh and bright when I was upstairs, watching him through the CCTV on my desktop with a fresh pot of coffee. Three of the walls of his cage were walled off with a tarp, allowing him to see about a fifth of the basement through the remaining wall. Inside his cage was his bedroll, a doggie bowl full of oatmeal and bananas, a small plastic trough filled with fresh water, and a litter tray.

I considered staying up and watching him, seeing the fear grow in his eyes, his first attempt at eating cold food without the use of his hands, the humiliation of pissing in a litter tray, but I was exhausted. As soon as I've finished writing this entry, I'm going to take a well-deserved nap.

4th October 2018

The truffle salt from Coles is a waste of time. Don't misunderstand me, it's useable, it's palatable, and it has the necessary truffle aroma. "Has" is the key word there, it's got the half-life of Fermium and after a week in the cupboard it's now just table salt with black specks in it. I think I'm going to invest in some decent truffle oil at Christmas.

C3 is coming along marvelously. The combination of injections and a high-fat, high-calorie, vitamin-rich diet have had a visible impact on his physique. His skin has softened even further from a clear and healthy surfer's complexion to almost peachlike smoothness and he now has visible jiggle on his thighs, stomach and buttocks. Most importantly, he's now the not-at-all-proud owner of a set of A-cup breasts, complete with sensitive, pebble-sized nipples.

His breasts are extremely sensitive. He's told me as much directly, but I've confirmed it through experimental means. A few light stripes under the nipples with the cane used to bring a wince to his face when he first came under my care, now it brings him to his knees, and the mere sight of the thing leads him to cry and whine rather prettily.

He did have some issues with portion control, in that he wasn’t eating the full servings of food I had prepared for him. This was unreasonable and short-sighted on his part: while plain, I have not asked him to eat anything that I wouldn't willingly eat myself, and while I am not a professional cook I am certainly a talented amateur.

The solution was a simple one: if even a smear of food remains in his dish, I do not feed him for the next two to four days. I only had to enforce this rule twice, and he's finished every meal I've put in front of him for the past two months.

He's gone without sleeping for the last forty-eight hours, he's gone without speaking for the last three weeks, and I've added a low dose of LSD to his drinking water. Tonight he should be somewhat tractable for the induction of a hypnotic state. I am not trying to control his behaviour--there's nothing I want him to do that I couldn't compel him to do through more reliable means--but for an in-depth interview. In concert with a lie detector and a regulated dose of barbiturates, I am going to make him bare his soul to me.

There are a few specifics I'm interested in, such as confirming my assessment of his sexuality and gender identity, and it never hurts to shore up my security by inquiring of any planned means of escape or rescue, but in great part I am doing this for morale effect: I want him to have no respite from me, even inside his own mind. He will learn that he has no more control of his thinking than he does of his eating, sleeping or exercising.

Speaking of which, I had to leave him in an armbinder for a few nights when he insisted on doing press-ups in his cell. The additional restraints distressed him greatly, and he's seemed afraid to even move lest I restrain him further. That was back in August, and I have since acquired an elliptical trainer which I allow him to use daily, good behaviour permitting.

I will write again tomorrow with details of tonight's interview, and I only hope it's more productive than C2's interview was.

5th October 2018

Well, that was elucidating.

I left C3 unrestrained for the interview. It was his first time free of shackles and cuffs outside of his cage since he'd arrived, as I wanted him to be relatively comfortable and I was confident that his drug cocktail would prevent any serious escape attempts.

He is not a natural hypnotic subject and I was only successful in inducing a semi-trance state. I don't think he achieved a trance, but I think he believed he was in a trance, and for my purposes that was more than sufficient. He talked for hours and provided an unabridged history of his life so far. His parents, his brothers, his schooling, his love of surfing and camping, his romantic attachments and rejections, his childhood friends and bullies, his fear of dogs, his earliest memories, his deepest shames, enough to fill a short memoir.

The interview lasted for ten hours, with breaks every two hours to allow him to pee (as I'd also allowed him to drink lime cordial from a cup while he spoke) and to adjust his dose of drugs and deepen his trance state. He cried frequently and easily. He bears a great amount of shame and guilt for someone so young and so relatively innocent--raised by Catholics, naturally--and spent half of the fifth hour in uncontrollable hysterics. I let him rest his head in my lap and stroked his hair as he cried, and he clung on to me like a man drowning. Once he ran out of tears he had a bout of cathartic laughter, and after that a calm passed over him, and he remained in a state of detached, cooperative calm until I ended the interview.

Of course, most of this was filler and background information for the parts that truly interested me: his sexuality and gender identity. Both were perfect. His sexuality is less important but still delightful. He is entirely heterosexual and repulsed by men. He still has nightmares about the one time I have molested him so far, when I coated his face with cum shortly after his chapter. You wouldn't believe how hard I got as he told me that!

He sometimes masturbates in his cage, which he tells me is mostly from boredom than any sexual desire, and he fantasizes about sex with women. He has little interest in sadomasochism, no interest whatsoever about taking a submissive role, and aside from a weak interest in pegging he is plain vanilla. He has fantasies about sex in public, fucking multiple women, being woken up by receiving oral sex, and seducing older women.

His gender identity is much the same: male, through and through. He has insecurities about being slight and physically unimposing--related to bullying in school--and about being insufficiently masculine. He takes pride in the callouses in his hands and the scars on his body from surfing, and wishes that the thin, pale stubble on his face was thicker.

It's of little surprise then that he finds the changes from the hormones to be a cruel and unwanted imposition. His breast growth makes him feel powerless and disgusted with himself, he can feel his muscles weakening, the tenderness in his breasts is terrifying and degrading, and even the topic of penile and testicular shrinkage made him choke up and sob. He says that even when I allow him to sleep, his mind feels clouded and he finds it increasingly difficult to identify the particulars of his emotional state, which swings and changes in ways he is not used to.

Again, I must reiterate how promising this is. My experiments concern the induction of sexual neuroses and physical development on non-consenting subjects. C1 was unsuitable because he--well, she, more likely--was a little too keen to embrace the role I had planned for her.

C3 is sleeping now. I haven't actually left our impromptu "therapy room" and he's drifted off with his head in my lap. He needs the rest. I have big plans for him, after all.

24th October, 2018

I took a trip to the cinema today. Specifically the single-screen cinema in the back of the adult bookshop. C2 is turning tricks for the manager. I don't think it's his first career choice but for some reason he's been unable to get a job anywhere else in town. He tried being an independent streetwalker for a while, which didn't work out well for him as he was quickly picked up by the local police and treated rather roughly. Almost as if they were keeping an eye on him!

The manager of the adult bookshop got in touch with him, I believe he was waiting for him outside the local lockup in fact, and informed him of a safe, reliable means of plying his trade. Now he sucks cock in the back room cinema along with a handful of other whores in exchange for a roof over his head and ten percent of the ticket sales.

He was apparently given a second tour of the police cells for not handing his tips over to the manager in a timely and honest manner, so his left eye was still swollen shut when I saw him today. His garb was delightful: pastel pink yoga leggings with the Adidas stripes down the sides, and a duck egg blue midriff-cut t-shirt with "BOY" on the chest, with a female gender symbol in place of the O.

I sat down next to him in the otherwise empty cinema and flashed him my ticket, which had set me back $84--worth every penny--and he flashed me a charming smile. There was no glimmer of recognition in his eyes, like all of my experiments and side projects he'd never seen me without a mask. He put his hand on my thigh and told me his name, which I've already forgotten. The feature began, a rather energetic video from the noughties with Kelly Wells, Hillary Scott and Layla Riviera, prompting C2 to get on his knees in front of me. He gagged a little when he unzipped my jeans, not because I was unwashed but because I'd applied a generous quantity of deodorant and aftershave so that he would not recognise me via scent.

I enjoyed a slow, leisurely blowjob for the next hour, where he displayed all the basic techniques I'd so painstakingly taught him as well as a few new ones he'd picked up more recently. There's something to be said about consuming porn this way, not just the oral service but also watching the film from the beginning, without skipping forward to my favorite parts or switching between videos, letting myself slowly build towards my climax at the same pace as the on-screen action. I came just before the money shot, pulling out to cum all over C2's face as Kelly Wells guzzled piss on the big screen, and let C2 lick and suck my balls until the credits rolled.

Before he or I got up, I took out $20, waved it in front of his eyes, and then used the notes to wipe cum up from his face. He flinched at the roughness, scowled, told me to cut it out, and put his hand on my leg as if to push away from me. I said three words.

"Punishment position three."

It was as if I'd reached inside him and squeezed. He let out a pitiful squeak, straightened up on his knees, pushed out his chest, put his hands behind his back, closed his eyes, opened his mouth, and let his tongue hang out. I stuffed the cum-soaked banknotes between his mouth.

"Be good, C2," I told him as I stood up. He didn't move a muscle as I walked out of the cinema, and as the door closed behind me, I heard a single muffled sob. It was an enjoyable experience and I certainly needed it after the last few days because C3 has really been a handful.

It began on the weekend when the first signs of lactation appeared. C3 has been getting increasingly upset with the changes to his body, his widening hips, his weight gain, his shrinking musculature, his shrinking genitalia, and his C-cup breasts. The breasts are especially upsetting, he complains that they ache constantly and are tender to the slightest touch. In any case, when the first droplets of milk dribbled out of his nipples something snapped.

Through tears, he told me that he refuses to eat, that he cannot live with the things I am doing to him, and that I should either let him go or kill him. Obviously this is unacceptable. I told him I was not treating his request with any seriousness, and that if he did not eat his meal, he would go without for the next several days. He nodded forlornly, but still refused the food.

I strapped his hands into leather mitts to prevent him from improvising methods of self-harm, and continued as normal. For the next three days, he refused to respond to commands or obey orders, remaining silent and going limp. He wailed in pain when I caned his soles and slapped his tits, but he continued to wallow in self-pity.

He was ravenously hungry by Wednesday, but when I gave him the opportunity to eat, he would not. I left the bowl of food in his cage overnight, and in the morning it remained untouched. He had not thrown it out or despoiled it, he had simply ignored it in an admirable, if misplaced, display of willpower. I gave him one final warning that there would be serious consequences if he did not eat now. He refused, so I applied the consequences.

I fitted him into a padded restraining board, on his back, his arms, legs, chest, stomach, forehead, chin, wrists and ankles held in place by canvas straps. He could not move an inch, not that he was trying particularly hard. A hollow dildo gag with a breathing hole went into his mouth, principally to prevent him from trying to bite off his own tongue. I catheterized him and inserted a hollow plug into his backside, not overly gently in either case, much to his consternation.

Then, intubation. I fed a heavily-lubricated silicone hose into his left nostril. He thrashed and twitched, as is expected when such a procedure is performed without the aid of benzodiazepines. Undeterred, I asked him to start swallowing, lest the tube end up in his lungs. He did as much gagging as swallowing, but after a few eventful minutes I felt the tell-tale glide of it being pulled down his esophagus and into his stomach.

Once the tube was taped in place under his nose, I attached the free end to a pump until it drew fluid out from within him. A few drops of this fluid onto pH paper revealed it to be stomach acid, which hopefully meant that the hose was not in his lungs. I then attached the hose to the feeding machine, and explained to C3 exactly how it would work.

He would have his meals and water combined into a slurry, kept at a cool four degrees celsius, and injected into his feeding tube. The pressure inside the hose would make breathing difficult or impossible while the food was being pumped, and the volume of his meals--around a litre and a half of slurry--meant that each feeding would be spread out in thirty second bursts, delivered semi-randomly over the course of an hour.

As I told him this, I undid my belt and began to masturbate. Despite the obvious temptations, I had not molested C3 in an overtly sexual manner since that first facial at the beginning of his captivity. By combining molestation with removal of autonomy, I wished to impress upon him the importance of obeying me with whatever autonomy I allow him to have.

I pressed the button on the feeding machine as I approached my climax. C3 squealed and gurgled like a drowning cat from the sensation of ice-cold sludge pumping through a tube in his sinuses and down into his throat, choking as the diameter of the tube expanded enough to cut off his breathing. He thrashed in his restraints with such force that he almost moved the gurney beneath him!

Seeing tears stream from his eyes was too much, and his eyes were precisely where I aimed. I landed a good few ropes on each eye, which he scrunched shut in disgust. When the tube stopped pumping I pried open his eyelids with my fingers and made sure a good quantity of my burning, stinging cum got in each eye, then smeared the rest across his face. He tried to blink it out, with little success, and before he could do much else I applied the padded blindfold. He hates and fears the eye-shutting pressure from the neoprene padding at the best of times, and wasn't overjoyed to wear it with his eyes gunked up with sperm.

He's been like that for the last three days, unable to move, speak or see, fed three meals a day through his nose. The only interaction he's had is when I've unrestrained his individual limbs and allowed them some movement, one at a time, to prevent bedsores and deep vein thrombosis, and when I come down to grope his sensitive tits. He is only able to relieve himself through the catheter and through enemas.

After a few days of stick, he's almost ready for the carrot. Tonight I am making pork carnitas with soft tacos, which he has told me is his favourite meal. I have also purchased one of the Harry Dresden books, which he told me he is an avid reader of. When dinner is ready, I will make him an offer: he will ask me for normal food and apologize for forcing me to use the feeding tube. In return he will be allowed out of his restraints and returned to his comfortable cage, along with his favourite meal and a good book, which he will be allowed to read during his spare time as long as he behaves himself.

I hope he accepts, for his sake and mine.

16 November 2018

C3 had his first true milking today! I've been teasing dribbles of milk from his nipples with my fingers for weeks, but today the volume was so high that I had to deploy a handheld breast pump. He whimpered for the duration but was obviously relieved by the reduction in pressure. It was as if he found the whole ordeal rather humiliating.

The milk is rich, a touch gamey, and less sweet than expected. I don't think the taste will be anything to write home about while his stress levels are so high, and I think that will be the case for some time. I've taken half for myself, and I'm mixing the other half into his food.

He's been docile since the force feeding. The intensity and inevitability of the punishment is part of it, but the rewards are equally important. My deal is that he can ask for anything once. Obviously I laugh at certain requests--he's not getting a phone or a two-way radio--and some things require compromise, but otherwise I have been accommodating. His cell now contains a lamp he can turn on or off, two dozen books and graphic novels, an old mp3 player, and a box of wet wipes. His relief from the constant boredom of being confined in a cage for twenty hours a day is palpable, and he has chosen the comfort that obedience brings over the misery that stems from disobedience.

He has asked if he'll ever be free from this basement and I truthfully said yes. One day he'll be walking around outside free of physical restraints and he will sleep at night in a bed he can truly call his own, though I'm unsure if he'll ever truly be free of me. He takes comfort in the fact that he has not yet seen my face or anything that might identify me, as he reasons that I am therefore not incentivized to bury him in a shallow grave to protect myself. His conclusion is correct but his premise is wrong; he'll know who I am eventually and I still won't fear him.

I'm currently milking him once per day regardless of his feelings on the matter, and I think this has hidden from him the fact that he now needs to be milked. Without his daily milkings the pain in his breasts would become unbearable, and soon he will develop mastitis if he's not milked. This will form another important part of his development: begging for things that are distasteful but necessary. With the exception of the wet wipes, there is nothing inherently humiliating in the things he's asking for. I believe he'll find begging to be milked intensely humiliating, and more humiliating still because of the tolls I'll extract from him when he goes down that road.

A brief note on his physical changes: his breasts are bigger but they remain C-cups for the time being. There are now a striking set of stretch marks on the sides and undersides of his breasts, along with some smaller, subtler ones on his thighs and buttocks which have also thickened up nicely. At some point I'm going to give him a regular schedule of retention enemas until he gets stretch marks on his belly befitting a pregnant little broodslut. His skin is delightfully soft and I'm shaving his face daily until the home electrolysis kit arrives. The combination of hormones, daily exercise bike sessions, and a lack of any upper body resistance training has changed his physique from a surfer's build to a more bottom heavy one.

As soon as I have finished writing this entry I am going to give him two gifts. The first gift is an ear piercing. It will be home to a yellow plastic tag, a miniature version of a cattle tag. The second gift is his name. He's not C3 anymore, and he's certainly not whatever stupid name he called himself before I acquired him. He has lovely tits and he's a milk cow, so his name will be Cowtits.

Cowtits. I think it suits him.

[dr-spencer-reids-queen]

Facing the Unknown

Characters: Spencer Reid x Winchester!Reader, Jennifer Jareau, Derek Morgan, Castiel, Sam Winchester, Dean Winchester, demons

Word Count: 3,583

Warnings: supernatural/criminal minds crossover, angst, fluff, nothing too bad

Summary: A case pops up to the infamous BAU city. Demons doesn’t mix well with real FBI agents, but you manage to save them all just fine.

Squares Filled: crime scene for @cmbingo // flattery will get you nowhere for @as-the-saying-goes-bingo // bleeding through the bandages in @badthingshappenbingo // enochian for my first heaven and hell bingo card // case fic for @heavenandhellbingo​

Author’s Note: If you have any requests, please send them in! this is unbeta’d and every mistake is all on me.

Feedback the glue that holds my writing together

Tags at the bottom

You can figure out a lot of things: why you don’t have the body you really want (you love pizza too damn much), why Dean doesn’t like to talk about his feelings (daddy issues), why Sam drank demon blood (Ruby made him do it), and why you can’t ever stop hunting (there will always be monsters). The only things you can’t figure out are angels and demons, more so the former.

Out of all the monsters you’ve dealt with, angels are the worst. They have a tendency to stick their noses in everyone’s business whether they are involved or not. Demons have a reason to do the exact same thing: they are spawns of Satan himself so they love to cause trouble and chaos. Angels just do it because they have nothing better to do. The only angel you like is Castiel, and even then it’s 50/50.

You’ve learned to love hunting. You know you’re going to spend the rest of your life doing it, so you may as well get along with the lifestyle instead of fighting it. Sam and Dean have learned the same lesson as you, so you’re not fazed when Sam says, “so get this”. You’ve adjusted to spending a few hours dedicated to sleep that having back to back hunts don’t even faze you anymore. However, this hunt, this specific hunt, has already drained your batteries and you’ve just started.

You stare at the dead body in front of you inside the morgue. There are three dead bodies with Enochian carved into their skin. Each of them is males and each of them has the same symbol on their chests. Castiel swears the angels have nothing to do with what’s been happening in this small town. Only men have been dropping dead for no reason. The angel thinks the demons are responsible for it, but you don’t know why they are carving Enochian symbols on their chests. They must be getting ready for some kind of ritual or spell, but Castiel doesn’t know what kind of ritual or spell that would need Enochian symbols on humans.

“How many more people have to die for us to understand what these demons are doing?” you ask with a sigh.

“This symbol means to summon death,” Castiel informs.

“Summon death? What, they can’t use speed dial? What do they want with Death?” Dean asks.

“If I knew that, then we would be able to stop them,” Castiel says. “However, the demons aren’t showing themselves until it’s too late. If we are going to try and stop them, then we need to get inside their heads before they make their next move.”

“Well, we have pictures of everything, so I say we grab some take out and beer, and think about this at the motel,” you suggest.

“I second that,” Your eldest brother grins.

“Shotgun!” you yell as you race to the car.

“Hey!” Sam scoffs.

“Sorry Sammy, you snooze you lose!” you stick your tongue out at him and get in through the passenger side.

After everyone is in, Dean peels out of the parking lot and heads straight to the best burger joint in this city. Something you and your brother like to do is to scope out the best burger places before starting the case. You’d cruise with him throughout the town and gather intel from the locals before trying the top three. The best, so far, has been Joe’s Burger Joint that has the juiciest meat you’ve ever tasted. You’ve begged the owner to give you the recipe so that Dean can make it back at the Bunker. However, he hasn’t given it up just yet.

Once you have the food in your possession, Dean heads back to the motel room. Castiel doesn’t eat (that’s another thing you couldn’t figure out) so he just sits on the bed while you and your brothers take up the small tab;e by the window. He’s staring intently at the pictures while you eat your burger. The TV is on a news channel, but it’s at a low volume so it’s not too distracting. You thought it was a good idea to put it on in case there might be another death regarding your angelic symbols.

“I can’t believe you don’t like meat, Sammy,” you groan after swallowing the delicious bite.

“I do like meat. I just don’t treat it like it’s going out of style,” he says in disgust as you and Dean scarf down your food.

“More for us,” Dean says with his mouth full.

It’s all smiles and jokes now until you get a glimpse at the TV. On the news is a headline stating there has been another body. However, it’s all the way across the fucking country. All the deaths so far have been in Texas, so why is there a new one in Virginia?

“Guys, look,” you state once your mouth is clear of food.

All heads turn to the TV and you turn it up.

“FBI officials have stated that the recent deaths in Texas may be linked to the newest one. Authorities haven’t commented on what’s been going on, but that doesn’t stop the public from speculating. There are a bunch of questions still left to be answered, so all we can do now is wait. Jim, back to you,” the female reporter states.

“Why are they targeting people in Virginia now?” you wonder.

“Maybe we’ve been looking at this wrong. Maybe it’s not the town they are interested in, but the people,” Castiel says.

“Let’s hope that by the time we get there the FBI hasn’t already contaminated the crime scene. I may act like one, but they are the real dicks,” you scoff.

“I can get us there in a few seconds if you prefer,” Castiel stands up.

“That’s one of the very few good things about you,” you smile. “No offense.”

“None taken.”

“Okay, let’s get this show on the road,” Dean declares.

Dean made Castiel bring baby along since he didn’t want to be thousands of miles away from her. It was a lot harder to conceal a big fucking car as it appears out of thin air, but Castiel picked a good spot to go to. The crime scene isn’t that far from where you are, and you’re thankful you got dressed in your FBI get up before leaving. You know you’ll be here for the rest of the night, so you went online and bought two rooms at a small hotel that’s near the crime scene. One for you and the other one for your brothers. Castiel doesn’t need one since he doesn’t sleep. It’s best to think ahead.

Dean rushes over to the crime scene which is thankfully still intact. A handful of FBI agents are still inside, but it looks like most of the general population has lost interest. There is only one standard FBI car in the driveway, so you’re not too worried about having to trick only a few of them. Your surrogate dad is only a phone call away if these guys question who you are. You get out of the car and make your way inside.

“When I said that the FBI are dicks, I forgot to mention hot because damn, he is fine,” you whistle lowly to your eldest brother when you spot a very attractive agent in the room.

He has brown curly hair that looks a little messy, but a put-together messy. He’s very tall but not as tall as Sam. He’s probably the same height as Dean. You can’t hear what he saying to his fellow agents, but you can hear the sound of his voice. It’s not deep at all, but it does make your knees weak. You have never seen a more perfect human being on this planet. If things go south, then you’ll be sure to protect him.

“Keep it in your pants, sister,” Dean grumbles just as one of the agents noticed the newcomers.

“Who are you?” a black man asks as he reaches for his gun.

He, the very attractive man, and a petite blonde woman all stare at you, the angel, and your brothers.

“This is a closed crime scene,” the blonde woman says.

“We’re agents Barry Young, Frank Bartley, Madison Grey, and Jason Brown. We’ve been sent here to check out the crime,” you state and show them your badges as does everyone else.

“We weren't informed of another team coming down here. You mind if I speak to your supervisor?” the black man asks.

“Sure,” you say and hand him Bobby’s card.

He takes it and steps off to the side.

“Who are you guys?” you ask.

“I’m Jennifer Jareau, that’s Derek Morgan, and this is Dr. Spencer Reid. We’re from the BAU right here in Quantico” the blonde says.

“Ooh, the cute one has a cute name. And he’s a doctor,” you grin.

“Excuse me?” Spencer stutters.

“You’ll have to excuse her. She can’t seem to put a cork in it,” Dean chuckles.

“What?” you scoff and turn to Spencer with a sweet smile. “So, what are you a doctor for?”

“It’s PhDs, actually. Three of them, not a medical one.”

“So, if I collapsed right here and now, you wouldn't give me mouth-to-mouth?” you pout teasingly.

“I know CPR,” he mutters and you just smirk.

“You’re cute when you blush,” you comment and turn to Jennifer. “I hope he’s not your boyfriend.”

“No, I’m married,” she chuckles.

“Do you have a girlfriend, doctor?” you ask.

“No,” he chuckles.

“This must be my lucky day then,” you grin.

“Flattery will get you nowhere,” he states.

“Then I guess I’ll have to work extra hard for your attention.”

“I don’t know who you guys think you are, but you’re not FBI,” Derek says when he steps back into the room.

Both Jennifer and Spencer tense when they realize you’re pretending to be FBI agents.

“That’s a federal offense, do you realize that?” he says with a hard glare.

“Look, we can explain,” Dean starts to say.

However, every single light in this house turned off, shrouding you eight in complete darkness. The only light available is coming from the moon outside.

“Are there more of you?” Derek demands to know and takes out his gun.

“They’re here,” Castiel says.

“The demons? Why?”

“I’m not sure. We’re on their territory.”

“Okay, listen,” you turn to the real FBI agents. “We’re not FBI, but we are going to save your life if you listen to what we say. These bodies that have been turning up are because demons are carving Enochian symbols on these people’s chests. We don’t know why, but they’re up to something big. So, for your safety, listen to what we say,” you explain quickly.

“Like hell we’re taking orders from you,” Jennifer growls.

“Castiel,” a demon says from the corner of the room where the body is. “Surprised to see you here.”

“You’re carving Enochian symbols. Of course, I’d be here.”

“Where did he come from?” Derek demands.

“Okay, we need to go. Please, just follow me,” you urge and grab Spencer and Jennifer’s wrists.

You drag both agents to the door but stop short when another demon pops up.

“Where do you think you’re going?” he chuckles and walks inside.

“This battle is between you and me. Let them go,” you glare.

“I don’t think so,” he growls.

He clenches his right hand into a fist, and your throat starts to close up. He raises you off the ground using his demonic powers, and you have no choice but to take it.

“You see, we have a few more people to claim as our own, but I can see you brought us some toys to play with,” he grins maliciously.

“How is he doing that?” Spencer whispers to his colleagues.

“Go to hell,” you bite back.

“Been there, done that. But I’ll send you,” he laughs and throws you across the room and into the dining room table.

“Leave her alone!” Spencer yells and raises his gun at the man. He shoots him in the head, but it does nothing. The host inside the body is already dead. “What the hell?”

The demon uses his powers to lift all three people and throw them in the same direction as you. They collide with the wall in a loud thump.

“No!” you grunt and force yourself to your feet.

“What the hell is that?” Derek yells.

“A demon! I wasn’t lying before. They’re here for the body. My brothers and I are hunters. We deal with this shit all the time. Come on, follow me!” you urge and help them up.

They don’t argue with you after seeing what just happened. You lead them to the kitchen and rummage through the cabinets until you see the salt. You grab a few containers and gather the agents to the middle of the room. You begin to pour a circle around their feet despite them yelling at you to tell them what’s going on.

“Just stay in here! Do not pass over the salt line. They can’t get you in here. I promise,” you beg.

“That’s not going to stop me from getting to them,” the same demon grins from the door.

“Dean!” you yell.

“We’re kind of busy!” he shouts back, but the shout turns int a groan at the end.

There must be more demons now than the two that showed up.

You reach behind you to take out Ruby’s knife since you’re the one who holds onto it. Your dad trained your brothers how to shoot guns, and he trained you how to fight with a knife. You know how to shoot guns, but your specialty is knives, so Sam trusted you with Ruby’s knife. You barely have a grip on the handle when the demon flings you across the room and into some cabinets. You feel something pierce your side, and you look back to see the knife block containing the kitchen knives have fallen. One fell right int your side, but you have to ignore the pain if you’re going to help the agents. Spencer starts to move out of the circle, but you put your left hand up to stop him.

“No! Don’t leave the circle!” you yell and yank out the knife.

“I can make you come out, you know,” the demon chuckles as his eyes turn pitch black.

“Get the hell away from them!” you yell.

You grab one of the kitchen knives and throw it at the demon. It lands right in the middle of his back, and he just sighs and turns to you. You grab some paper towels and press them against your wound, using the waistband of your pants to keep it in place. Spencer’s eyes widen when he sees the man isn’t affected by the knife in his back. You reach for Ruby’s knife and reveal it, twirling it in your hands.

“You can’t get rid of me that easily,” you grunt.

Your wound is bleeding profoundly, but you’ve lost more blood than this and still could fight. You’re going to be okay.

“I wasn’t trying to, but maybe I should,” he growls.

He runs at you, and you swipe the knife across his arm as you pass by him. He yells out in pain, but that only makes him angrier. You almost slide right into the salt circle, but Spencer reaches out to stop you before you had a chance to ruin it. Without saying anything else, you charge at the demon once more and pounce on his back. He struggles to get you off him, but you’re not in the mood to play games. You swing the knife right into his chest, and he cries out in pain. His entire skeleton glows bright orange as he dies, and he collapses to the ground like dead weight.

“Dean!” you yell.

“We’re okay. We took care of them. One of them got away with the body, but the rest are dead,” he says as he, Sam, and Castiel walk into the kitchen.

“You guys came come out now,” you whisper as you fall back into the kitchen table.

Spencer rushes over to you and lifts up your shirt to see your blood staining the paper towels.

“We need to get you to the hospital.”

“No. There are too many dead bodies here. I’ll be fine.”

“You’re bleeding out, Madison.”

“My name is Y/N Winchester. It’s only fair that you know,” you cough.

“Come here,” Dean says and helps you sit on the table.

“Is she going to be okay?” Jennifer asks.

“I’ll heal her,” Castiel says and walks over to you.

He presses two fingers to your forehead, and your wound disappears. Your side is only bloody from your blood, but the wound is gone. Spencer, Derek, and Jennifer back away slowly.

“That’s not possible,” she says.

“It is. You’ve just been living inside a bubble for your entire lives. You deal with serial killers and human predators. We deal with the supernatural and monsters. We’re not so different. Those were demons and they’ve carved angelic symbols into the victim’s chests. Castiel is an angel. Monsters do exist, but you don’t have to worry about that because we take care of it. I’m sorry we brought the battle to you,” you reveal.

“What are we going to tell Hotch?” Derek asks his team.

“Tell him or don’t. I wouldn’t. The supernatural isn’t something that needs to be broadcasted. If people find out, then they panic, and panic and chaos are made for monsters. People become vulnerable. If you want to know more about how you can help or if you want to determine if your case is human or not, then we’ll tell you more, but leave the supernatural to us.”

“Come on, we got to go,” Dean urges.

“I’ll take care of the bodies,” Castiel says and touches the dead one on the kitchen floor.

He disappears with the body and all three agents jump back from shock.

“I’ll be right there,” you say to your brothers.

“Good luck with this one,” he scoffs at Spencer before taking his leave with Sam.

“I need to call Hotch anyway and tell him why we’re going to be late,” Derek says and leaves as well.

“I’m going to go with him,” Jennifer smiles and exits the kitchen so it’s just you and Spencer now.

“It’s a shame that I won’t have more time trying to woo you, but here’s my number. Call me whenever you’re curious,” you say and hand him one of your cards.

“I can’t believe this is all real.”

“Believe it gorgeous. The world is a scary place. You know this because humans are ruthless. Monsters are worse. Don’t let it get to you.”

“How long have you been doing this?”

“Since I could walk. Don’t waste your tears on me. My family is all sorts of messed up, but I wouldn’t have it any other way. I don’t want to see a frown line on that pretty face.”

“Okay,” he chuckles.

“Damn, you really have it all. Great hair, gorgeous eyes, and a stunning smile. You must get all the ladies.”

“It’s less than you think.”

“Well, official count me as one. We have more hunts to do, but we are spending the night in this town. It’d be a shame if I didn’t get to say goodbye to you properly. I’ll be having my own room away from my brothers. I’d hate to spend it alone,” you flirt.

“That’s good to know,” he chuckles nervously.

“I know we just met, but I’d beat myself up if I didn’t do this,” you say.

You grab his cheeks and pull him down to you, placing your lips over his. It’s not weird for you to kiss someone you just met. Meeting guys in bars and playing pool with them does have its advantages. Apparently, this isn’t something new with Spencer because as soon as your lips touched his, his whole demeanor changed. He grips your hair in his hands and kisses you with passion. He doesn’t know why he’s behaving this way to a woman he just met, but there has been fire between you two ever since your initial contact.

His lips move smoothly over yours, and you open your mouth to grant his access. His tongue slips in for a brief moment before you pull away. There are about two inches of space between you two, and you look into his lust-blown eyes.

“You really know how to kiss,” you whisper.

“That’s not the only thing I know how to do.”

“Please come to my hotel room. I bet I can get my brothers to stay an extra day. I’m staying at the Suburban Extended Stay Hotel room 318. Do you need me to write it down?”

“No, I got it,” he shakes his head.

“Then I’ll be waiting,” you smirk and lean up to his ear to whisper to him. “Bring your handcuffs.”

You pull away from him with a wink and leave the kitchen. He doesn’t know who you are, but he likes the kind of woman you are. He normally doesn’t go out with women like you, but there is something exciting inside you. He’s definitely going to visit you tonight, and he’s definitely going to make sure you remember him well after you two have already parted ways.

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[cosmiclatte28]

Secret Love Song (ten x you)

here we go!

ps. Ten is a WayV and SuperM idol here, while Yuta, Jaehyun, and Johnny are not idols! Thanks

Song : Secret Love Song from little mix and Jason Durelo lol Derulo xD

warning : tiny bit of insecurities, lots of fluff, happy end.

CHITTAPON IS JUST SO SWEET!

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

You make your way slowly back to your small studio apartment. You rush from the nearest bus stop, walk through the cold winter night, reach the front door and then take the lift to your room. Today has been tiring, your neck and lower back are aching from sitting on stools for hours and reaching your clients body as you inject safe permanent inks into their skin. Yes, you are a tattoo artist, working in a superior tattoo parlor, where hygiene levels are guaranteed safe and the drawings are not regrettable. Well, your clients paid a hundreds of dollars to have a 4 inch tattoo! You have to admit, being a tattoo artist in a high-class studio gave a fair amount to pay your rents, eat decent foods, and spend some money for your happiness. You sigh when you remember that the flat fee for this month has been raised, and you know you will need to either find a new living space or work extra hours to pay for the extra cost.

You stretch your neck for a while as your fingers type in a six digit combination to open the door to your heaven: the bed. Once you close the door behind you, you take off your coat, carelessly toss your bag to the sofa, and free yourself from your boots. You make a quick attempt to untangle your scarf and dive belly first to your soft mattress. A sigh of great relieve escapes your mouth and you find your eyelids super heavy. You would totally fall  asleep within five seconds if your bizarre phone did not disturb you.

Your hand blindly searches for the rectangular noisy object and when you find it, the ring has ended. You groan in frustration, but your fatigue drowns you back to slumber. This time there was a short beep five times in a row, and you know that is your boyfriend messaging you. Your mind fights over waking up to call him back, or just drive your tired eyes to sleep and deal with him later when you're fresh. You decided to do the latter, but today must not be your day. Your phone rings again and your finger slides to pick up his call.

"What?!" You snapped.

"Woah, easy... Did I call the wrong number?" the man on the other hand takes his phone away from his ear to check the caller ID. He shakes his head when he ensures this is the right number.

"Sorry... I-"you yawn and he stays silence until you continue, "I just got home, and your calls postpone my -so needed- sleep..."

He smiles to himself when he heard your yawns and slurs.

"Okay, I'll just tell you I'm busy for the next three days. I'll call you back, I need to do my make up now. Bye!"

You did not reply him, your brain didn't actually understand anything he said, you've lost yourself into the dreamland after finishing your sentence. You sleep through your dinner time, only to snore deeper as the night darkens.

__

One man sits stiffly on his chair in the powder room. He is waiting for his stylist to come and do his make up before he steps into the stage filled with a crowd dedicating their life, money, and time to support him and his group. He shakes his shoulder a bit to throw the pressure away, why did he feel like he committed a great sin for calling his girl just to disturb  her from sleeping.

"Who is that Ten hyung?" Yang-yang who happens to catch a few of Ten's surprised action earlier asked.

Ten turns his head to face the youngest boy, he's about to open his mouth before the tallest and loudest man cuts his answer "It's (y/n) of course," Lucas offers his big smile while slapping Ten's shoulder.

"Stop it Lucas, I might poke his eye because of your sudden slap when I am drawing this eyeliner." The stylist who has been working hard to polish this pretty eyes of Ten, scowls at Lucas.

"Sorry, but it's true right?? It's (Y/n)???" Lucas takes a seat on one of the free chairs in the powder room. He's ready to go on stage already.

Ten shakes his head in disbelief and nods, "Yes it's her. Happy?"

Yang-yang smiles and drags his chair closer, "So... what happened? Spill the tea!"

Lucas also has his eyes bigger twice as much in size and his back is straightened, he is ready for the gossip!

Ten smacks his lips when the last stroke of light lipstick was applied; he checks himself on the mirror and nods an approval for the stylist to go. "Thank you!"

Now when nobody else is in the room, Ten finally opens his mouth.

"I called her at the wrong time I think... She snapped at me because she said I disturb her sleep?"

The two younger men pretend to understand though really they don't have a single idea why Ten must look this nervous just because his girlfriend snapped. Hey, every person has a bad day right?

Ten stares into the two soul across him and he face palms himself mentally when he realize there was no way Lucas nor Yang-yang understands his worry.

"Forget it, both of you are not helping." Ten pushes himself from the chair to put on his golden jacket.

"We're putting on mikes and in 7 minutes, you're going Live." The stage director opens the door right in time and a swarm of crew help the members put on their mikes.

Ten glances at his phone for the last time, there his smile rises when one notification pops from none other than you.

From: mon petit cœur

"Burn the stage,love! Bad Alive deserves the spotlight. <3"

Ten knows he doesn't have to reply that message, but the heavy weight in his heart is gone as he takes a deep breath and joins his other brothers to the side of the stage. They chant their group cheers and soon take over the stage.

--

You're awakened by your alarm clock around seven at night. Your head feels dizzy and you know that's probably because you skipped dinner. You force yourself to open your eyes. Your fingers expertly open the messenger application and through your squinting eyes, you type a short message to your boyfriend. Well, you promised him you won't miss their first stage of Bad Alive, and so here you are! seated on your worn-off sofa, an apple on one hand and the small TV provides you music and pictures. You focus yourself on the screen when you can see your boy and his team already shown for the interview at the screen. You fix your position, increase the volume, and you're totally awake when the stage shows your favorite group of all time.

The three minutes performance was over. You get up from your position, walk to throw the apple core away, and you grab your phone back.

To : Ten

"Amazing job you did there, my body's burning,

Guess I can save money from not using any more heaters.

Going home? <3"

You want to meet Ten so bad, it's already one month since you two didn't see each other. He has intensive practices for the comeback. Not that you're not understanding or selfish; You just wish he can make some time to come tonight, because you need someone to listen to you.

Your phone bleeped after an hour. Ten must've finished all of his works and probably already seated in the van, ready to leave the venue.

From: Ten

"Glad the song kept you warm. Sadly I've told you earlier in the call I cannot make it home these three days. Next week I also have another stage performance. I'll let you know when we can meet. How's today?"

Your shoulder slumped, you ghost you finger over the call button. You want to call him right now, but dating an idol is not that simple. If some manager or stylist caught you in the act, they might tell this to the director board and you know how this will end. Yes forced break up!

You left him on read. You glance at the clock on the dining room. It's already nine, you have some place to go. You dress yourself in a warm jacket and you leave the empty room. You hail a cab and direct an address. Your phone vibrated and you picked up a call.

"Hey! Where are you now?" Ten asks

"I'm going out for a while, why?"

"Oh, where are you headed to?"

"Ummm Johnny's, I forgot he invited me over for wine and cheese. Wanna join?"

"Is this Saturday Night already?"

You chuckled, "Yes Mr. busy, this is a Saturday Night."

"I'll see how the meeting with SuperM goes, til then have fun and be safe, Love you!"

"He's a nice brother, don't worry I'll be okay. Wait I have to get off the bus."

Ten waited for you on the other side of the line. He likes to make sure you're okay on the road. He busies himself with a strand of loose thread on his jacket and holds the phone close to his ear. His smile returns when your breathy voice greets him back.

"Woah, sorry there were several people going down too.

I'm only 3 minutes away! Are you in the office yet?"

"I'm entering the lobby, need to rush to the lift and see if everyone's there already."

"Okay, guess I'll end the call here. I can see his house already."

"No, I'll wait until you are in his house. Besides my notification just notifies me Taemin hyung is late."

"Well, I'm here already. Johnny's by my side."

"Alright, trust you. Tell him I miss him! Okay then, enjoy your night.

Call me whenever you need my help. Love you!"

You smile at his small attention, "Thanks Ten, Love you too! Good luck with the meeting."

The phone call ended

You enter the kitchen of the small house your brother and his fiancée bought. Johnny is five years older than you, and that's why he has been able to take care of you ever since the two of you were young. Johnny's wife happened to be staying in her mother's house because she had to look after her younger cousins. Johnny cannot join her because he needs to supervise his office. So here you are, the two of you meet one another for a siblings quality time.

"Tonight's special is Cabernet Franc," Johnny said after examining the bottle and taking the cork off.

I push him my empty glass and he fills in both glasses with the red liquid.

"Cheers," You both chime and clank the glass.

Moving on to sit on the comfortable L-sofa, you make yourself comfortable before finally starting to chat and talk about life. A soft music was played on the background, some classics because both of you felt like it.

"So, how is your day?" asked Johnny.

You gulp down the rest of the wine and roll your eyes, "Bad. Worst!"

Johnny straightens his back, "Ten? Or Work?"

You run your eyes right and left, taking a moment to think which one of them is bothering your mind. You smile when you know the answer, "Both!"

Johnny only raises his brow and you know the queue to spill everything out. Your mind went back to earlier this morning, where you woke up late and missed the bus to your office. You had to take the cab, since Ten was busy with his performance schedule today. You had to spend a good $20 to make it on time. You did arrive on schedule; the shop was opening as per usual. You greeted your co-workers, Yuta and Jaehyun.

The three of you have been working together since this parlor opened, there were no other worker here because we don't need that much! The people who step through the door were usually a regular or have made an appointment. However, today was totally irregular!

You remember the horror of Jaehyun's face when he entered the employee room with terror. Yuta was working on a customer's drawing and you were washing and cleaning the pen.

"We sorta have a problem here, there were three girls wanting to get a tattoo done without any appointments."

Yuta raised his brow, there must be something next that will surprise them both.

"They're minors. I've told them to come back when they're older, but they insisted."

"Let me talk," You place your pen down on a table and take the queue to talk to the girls. Well, Jaehyun is a softie, he cannot be strict especially to high-school girls.

You caught the three girls giggling over a picture on their phone, and you quickly snatched it away from her hand. They gasped and protested on your action, but you were taller than them.

"Sorry, but it was not appropriate for you to secretly take pictures of another person. This, I'm sure you took them secretly earlier. You're violating someone's privacy." You said as you deleted the pictures of a candid Jaehyun.

"If you're here only to take inappropriate pictures of my co-worker, leave immediately and don't ever come back. And you're clearly not 18 yet, the law stated you must be 18 to have a tattoo. Til then, let's wait patiently. Come back only when you are 18 and permitted to have ink on your body. Good bye." You returned the phone and shrugged your shoulder to the exit door.

The three girls have fires in their eyes and they were clearly killing you in their heads, but you're not afraid of babies like them.

"You're mean! Just wait for our revenge!" One of the girl stomped her feet in anger and ordered the other two to follow her and they left the parlor.

You let go a breath you held back earlier, then you decided to take the welcome desk for a while.

Just when you thought nothing else will go wrong, that's where you were fucked. Across you stood your nightmare. The enormous man across you smiled secretly when he found you greeting him.

"Well, welcome back Sir Dimitry, I believe you're here for a touch up?" You ran your eyes through today's schedule. Sadly his name was not there, but he was a regular and he's the Russian gang leader here, who roamed around Incheon at night. You knew better not to mess up with him, but that was not what bothers you.

He Is big and scary, the first time you saw him was when Yuta has to do a big dragon on his well built arm. That day you were occupied with another client, but although you were focused on doing your work, you can't help but feel his gaze on your body. Yuta and Jaehyun were aware of this, and since then they always try their best to take his project and they always lied you're busy or occupied. You're thankful for them. The two men were not so pleased to work on his skin too, for his drawings were always big, disturbing, and scary. However, he was the most generous tipper, and that made them close their mouth and ears (because he used to answer calls and believe me your ears won't stay cold listening to his choices of bad words).

"I haven't made an appointment yet, and I came here for a new drawing. I've had one in my mind and I believe you can finish tracing it in a couple of minute." The big guy leaned forward on the table.

There were two other people coming in and Yuta happened to pass by. You threw him a "help" sign and Yuta bit his lips, "My client is here already... I'm sorry, try Jaehyun."

Yuta took his customer to the studio and Jaehyun appeared beside you.

Jaehyun glanced at the clock, then looked into the Russian man's blue eyes "I'm sorry sir, but today we're a bit tight. You can come back here tomorrow say around one? I'll take your order, do you want a new drawing or retouch?"

The man hit the table, "I believe this lady over here is free right now, I don't see any client waiting for her. That guy is clearly your job Jae, I saw his tattoos those were definitely yours."He smiled winningly.

You cursed in your heart, well today you happened to have no appointments, you're only making templates. You closed your eyes, inhaled, and looked at Jaehyun. You nodded your head to tell him you'll be okay and you'll take him. Jae could lost his eyes from the shock when you sighed and told the big man, "Alright, I am free for two hours. Before that let me remind you I cannot do strong and big inks."

The Russian man smirked like a cat who won a fish, you took him to the processing room and he explained you what he want. You went to your professional mode and focused clearly on making his dream comes true. You were bargaining with him to make the designs smaller and less bold, he finally gave in. You worked your drawing quickly and after he agreed, you prepared your tools.

To make it short, it was the longest two hours in your life. He was clearly stealing views of you concentrating, and he was throwing so many offensive and disturbing flirts. You almost lost your cool when he joked about how hot you would look like on bed. You promised you held yourself from not forcing the word "bastard" to his neck and you clearly knew Yuta and Jaehyun were both busy keeping eyes on you. You're focused on making a word out of Russian alphabet you didn't know.

"I am attached, so please stop. You're going over the line already." You exhaled when he tried to touch your lap. You quickly pushed his hand away and you rushed your work.

"I said stop! You're harassing me!" You tossed the pen to your metal tray, and you pushed your chair back. He was not totally harassing you physically, but he was mentally fucking you. You saw his tent and you decided you'll stop your work. Well you finished it right on time though.

"I can file a report and you can be trialed." You stood up from your stool, but he held you back faster.

"Let go off her," Yuta threw him a deadly gaze and swatted the man's hand.

"You won't, they wouldn't care. Look this tattoo's amazing. I'm leaving you 500! Take the change." He forced the bills in my hand and made his way out.

You stood there surprised and petrified. You're ashamed of yourself, but what would your boss say if he found out a client was not satisfied because the girl artist did not want to work on his body. You'll lose your favorite job, and no you don't want that to happen yet.

Yuta and Jaehyun comforted you and ensured that you were not assaulted physically or even harmed. You shook your head and a tear fell on your cheeks. "I am embarrassed of myself, I feel bad for Ten... and Fuck I blew up my relationship."

Yuta ensured nobody will know, or you hope so. The day continued and after some more picky madams with boring gossips, you went home with....well an extra $300. You actually hated the money, but 300 is a big number, you can either put it on donation or pay your rent. You decided to put it in the cashier box though, let your boss decide. Usually a 100 bucks is already a big tip, this is triple! But thinking back of his actions, you hate everything.

"You sure you're okay?" Johnny reaches for your hand and takes a good look on your body.

You giggle, "It's fine, he almost reached for my lap but I was faster! But his mind, I can't control that..."

Johnny nods, "Just avoid him okay, or tell your boss you cannot take him. Moving on, tell me about Ten!"

"About Ten, I just hope dating an idol can be more public." You swirl your wine that had been refilled.

Your mind one again brought you into a daze, you remembered two years ago when Ten knew you from his tattoo appointment. You were responsible for his temporary tattoo for a comeback. He knew you from Taeyong, fellow SuperM member who made the 'UNDER STAND' tattoo with your help. Ten likes the result and he asked Taeyong where he got it done.

To make it short, you frequently see one another from discussion, drawing, and planning. Ten and you learned about one another quickly while he was on his ink bed, and you're focused on drawing his perfect sketch on his arm. The meeting became frequent after three months where he needed another tattoo for a comeback.

After returning about ten times to have a retouch or a new design, Ten finally earned your number. From there, everything was so fast and you're suddenly on your third year of dating an international famous idol! You thought you were ready for everything, not going public, staying home most of the time for dates, wearing masks and keep being undercover, even having sleepless nights while waiting for his message when he's away on a world tour. You can go on with the list, but you decided to focus on the good things more.

You were okay with Ten being away from his phone most of the time. He always did his best to send you an update about him, be it one emoji, a selfie, or a whole long ass paragraph of how his day went. He couldn't call you that much because someone might eavesdrop.

So far, no one thought Ten is having a secret love relationship. There were small fights, but both of you can talk it out together with cool heads and bonded stronger after the fight. Ten could see you and him being a family in the future, he even boldly told you his parents can't wait to meet you.

You were okay with all of the relationship, you were okay with his fans, you supported him on concerts and voting, you basically love him too with all your heart. Only one thing actually made you sad.

"What is that one thing? Not posting it in social media?" your brother teases you.

You lean on the soft cushions; your finger carelessly fiddles with the tassels hanging around the blanket Johnny had wrapped around you. You toss your look to his curious face.

"I want to walk under the cold winter air beneath the romantic lights, hand in hand, warmth shared from I don't know his heat pack in his pocket maybe... Then imagine the Christmas Carols are softly whispering in the night, mistletoe is everywhere. It doesn't have to wait until Christmas... I just want it whenever we can." You plop a cheese into your mouth. Your eyes were glassy when they look into Johnny's

Johnny pulls you closer and you instinctively lean in and let him caresses your back.

"You're tipsy, can you still walk?"

You shot your eyes open, the hell did your brother just kicked you out? Hey it's night already! Shouldn't he let you sleep in??

"I am not going home! It's dangerous! What kind of brother are you? Telling your little sister to go home at this time." You hit him repeatedly.

Johnny rolls his eyes, you clearly had too much!

"WALK TO THE BED SIS, WALK TO MY ROOM AND SLEEP PROPERLY." Johnny stresses each of the word in case my ears did not caught them.

You look at him blankly and Johnny knew you're gone already. He swiftly picks you up and carries you to the bed. Nicely he tucks you in and he cleans up the mess in the living room.

He notices his phone vibrating; noticing it was Ten, he picks up the call.

"She's sleeping in tonight, you're on the dorm right?" Johnny asks.

Ten answers him his schedule for the week and how he's not going home. He also told Johnny what happened earlier this afternoon. Johnny smirks as he whispers a code to Ten.

__

Two weeks passed by, you already forgot your grudges to Ten. You try to be considerate to his hectic schedules. One cold afternoon, just after you finished working on your last client for today, you take your time cleaning the tools and sterilizing them. While humming to Love Talk, your favorite song, Jaehyun peeks from the curtain door.

"(Y/n), someone's looking for you." Jaehyun drags the curtain open. You pause your activity, for a moment; your eye brows quirked. You focus your mind to see if you missed an appointment, but no you're positive no one called you for a session this afternoon.

"Hmm, we still have time before closing time, so okay I'll take it."

You leave the room to see your client and you're surprised to see your boyfriend sitting on the waiting room.

"Ten!" You squeal out of surprise and joy. You run to hug him, well it has been three weeks since you last saw him in tangible state. Three weeks of video-calls and texts were quite satisfying, nevertheless.

Your boyfriend hugs you back and engulfs your smaller figure. He inhales the sweet scent of your shampoo he missed and how he wished the time can stop here right now.

"You're here for a new tat?" You ask after breaking the hug.

Ten shakes his head, "No, I got dismissed earlier and I want to pick you up!"

You blushed, hey that's so sweet of him. Unlike other boyfriends, having Ten walking in the sidewalk without his manager and body guards is a rare occurrence. Ten was always in the van or swarmed by fans! This afternoon however, here he is standing with a long winter coat, face hidden under a cap and a mask. He did not wear anything eye catching to avoid the media and saesangs. He did it! He made it here in your office without any missing piece or a trending twitter hashtag!

"Well we have another 20 minutes before my shift ends; do you need any help for a tattoo?" You smile at him. Hey planning a tattoo with Ten is always wonderful.

"You know we can always draw them together at home." He smirks and brushes my hair away from my face.

"Okay then, wait for a moment as we're tidying up." A big smile erupts from your lips and your heart is full of flowers!

--

"Good bye Jae, Yuta!" You wave your hand as the two men let you leave first while they close the doors.

Ten is already waiting for you on the front porch with his hidden face. You place your mask over your face too. You stick yourself next to Ten to hug his arm, his heart softens at the sight, how a soft girl like you can work as a tattoo artist with Yuta and Jaehyun (who both have enormous prints on their bodies).

Without any warning, Ten takes one of your hand into his, he holds yours tightly and slips them to his jacket pocket."It's a bit cold right? Now where should we go?"

Your eyes widen, usually he always brings you home directly since he cannot be in public for too long.

"Shall we just go home? I can cook dinner." You sound confused by his offer tonight.

Ten shakes his head, and drags you without any clue where are we headed.

You are so stunned when you find yourself finishing a nice dinner course at a new restaurant. Luckily it was not crowded yet and no one seems to notice Ten, but dinner was not the end of the surprise.

You stand frozen under the dazzling disco ball, beneath your feet are colorful light up tiles, surrounding you are the moving body of half-conscious people, and your ears are slowly aching from the loud music.

"Ten, can we go somewhere quiet, I can't talk." You lean in closer to scream into his ear and your boyfriend pulls you out of the crowded space.He brings you to the bar and helps you sit on one of the stool.

"One bourbon for me, and a vodka for this pretty lady." Ten smiles to the bartender.

After he takes his sit next to you, you raise your brow. He knows that code and he quickly reaches for your hands.

"You don't like dancing in the club? It's a Sunday Night, I thought some drinks won't hurt right?" Ten knows you're not new to these kinds of places.

You let out a free laugh, "I do love dancing in the club, I'm just surprised why you're suddenly doing this. Plus if you told me, I could have prepared for better attire!" You hit him playfully.

Ten takes your hand into his, "Well, you look great already, plus we must not catch attention right." He leans in closer to you.

Your eyes slowly move down over his nose and finally on his lips. Maybe it was the way they glistened under the dim light, or the tenderness you miss, or just simply his lip bites he always did when he's nervous! You feel gravity pulling you closer just to taste a tiny bit of it, but Ten moves back quickly when the bartender returns with two glasses of our drinks.

"Thank you!" Ten hands over the cash and offers you your glass. You found yourself stupid for almost kissing him in public. Rule number one of dating an idol is to never kiss on public.

"Sorry," You look everywhere but his eyes and gulp down your shot.

Ten just nods beside you and there was a bit of a tension between you and him. Maybe you're still embarrassed of your action, but Ten is actually enjoying your braver side.

"Let's hit the floor. I really miss dancing together." Ten easily picks you out of your stool and lands you gently on the floor. One shot of vodka won't make you drunk yet, but you spent your youth dancing on the dance floor, so this is nothing for you.

The DJ was wonderful tonight; his choices of songs are perfect and as the two of you are getting more and more heated up under the throbbing lights. The dance floor was crowded and there was not much space left. You share his body heat, you can feel his breath tickles your neck, and you can once again see his plump cherries. You drive your mind elsewhere, and move your body to the rhythm. You smile at him and he smiles back at you, with one deep glance the two of you inches closer and closer.

Your eyes grew heavy, vision dark, you let your other senses work, and you feel that warm plump lips touching yours. You caught your breath and after some time, he pulls back. The loud sound blasting through the speaker slowly disturbs your hearing again. You open your eyes slowly and stare into his deep eyes. He places his hands over your waist, pulls you into his arms, and the two of you sway to the loud slow music the DJ offers.

You're no longer thinking straight. You bury your face into his chest, you trust yourself into his lead and a single tear fell down.

When you hold me in the street

And you kiss me on the dance floor

I wish that we could be like that

Why can't we be like that, Cause I'm yours.

You know this is everything you need to face when dating an idol, and you cannot hate him for this. It was your decision to say yes to him. Your head spins, your ears deafened, your vision darkens, and you no longer feel your feet.

You lost your conscious; all of a sudden you're already lying down on your bed. Turning your head to the side, you see Ten sleeping by your side hugging you loosely while taking in calm and relaxed breath. You grit your teeth as you try your best to softly turn your body to face him.

In his warm embrace you snake your hand to ghost over his godly face to brush away the golden locks away from his eyes. You stare at his innocent face, you're overwhelmed. It's been a while since the last time you has Ten by your side when you sleep. He was always busy and thousands of miles away from you in a different time zone. You touch his cheeks and wipe a tear running down from your eye.

We keep behind closed doors

Every time I see you, I die a little more

Stolen moments that we steal as the curtain falls

It'll never be enough

Just the sound of his relaxed breathing and the slight touch of his arms over your waist, you finally found the missing warmth and peace you've always craved for bedtime. Having Ten lying next to you tonight sparked a small fire in your chest. You feel safe and you're so emotional. You snuggle closer to him, Ten stirs in his sleep but did not wake up, instead he naturally finds your body and fixes his posture to a comfortable position. You face his chest, right where you can see the tattoo you nicely did on his left chest (where he worked so hard to get his mom's permission) you smile when you remember how happy he was when he sneaked out to meet you to deliver the happy news.

Your heart flutters, he did not need to wake up to fit you into his embrace. Your relationship fits like a puzzle where each pieces were so different that you won't make mistakes. You want to believe that Ten is the one destined for you and so are you to him!

It's obvious you're meant for me

Every piece of you just fits so perfectly on me

Your mind plays thousands of silly scenarios. Most of them were happy, but you cannot lie that the darkest corner in your brain still repeatedly tricks you with nightmares. It was not the first time you have dreams about his fans finding out your relationship, you cannot imagine their faces and you cannot imagine living with the constant fear that one of those fans might kill you out of obsession!

Your insecurities also snatch your confidence away whenever you see Ten standing on a stage with another "oh so perfect" girl idols or models or hell actresses! Not to mention the flirty look those back up dancers always toss to your man. Well, they might be throwing flirts on him because they did not know Ten is attached already; however, even when they know 90% will fight harder and the rest 10% will let go. You're living in fear, in terror that one day when you wake up Ten can no longer be beside you.

You break your own promise about always telling one another your fears and struggles. You hide them behind your cheerful smile, you blame yourself for over thinking, and you make sure Ten will never know that. You are learning every day to put the negative thoughts away and focus on the good ones. Ten needs your support, Ten loves you, and you believe that. You can sleep a bit after convincing your heart that the man hugging you here is an angel made for you!

Every second, every thought, I'm in so deep

But I'll never show it on my face

Your eyes flung open when you feel the sudden drop of temperature. Your hand reaches to your side in panic and you peek to see that it's no longer occupied. You stretch yourself to wake up, Ten might be away already for his schedule. You take your phone to see any message he probably left, but there were none. You glance to the door, it was closed. There are no traces of Ten, not his shirt, not even his phone.

Once the room door was opened, your nose is filled with a fresh smell of bacon and eggs. Your smile returns when you see Ten only in his boxer and apron. You can hear your washing machine working and when you look at the door, you smile when you see a pile of your laundry and his outfits are there.

"Morning princess, I'm sorry I have to run the laundry for my clothes...since someone happened to spill a drink over me yesterday and I'm not going back to the dorm with a smelly outfit." Ten explains while flipping an egg over. He sets the fire to a lower heat and turns his body to see you.

You can only smile like a dumb love-struck girl (which is not wrong). You make your way to jump and hug him. Ten automatically receives you in his arms and you dip your head down to greet your lover with a sweet morning kiss. In between the sweet kiss, you can see Ten smiling like he enjoys these kinds of cheesy morning things.

"You better stop kissing me," Ten speaks up on our short breaks, he kisses you one more time, "Or I will burn the eggs."

You laugh and toss your head back, you take your queue to jump off him and Ten quickly saves his egg from burning. "Just right in time," He smirks when he plates the last egg on the dish.

"Please take your seat miss, breakfast by your hottest man is ready." He sits down across you with one plate of the same menu. From your request, Ten did not take off his apron. No you do not need a distraction this early!

Your mind records every single moment Ten giggles and laughs, his wake up state is already so lovely and you cannot imagine how perfect your mornings will be if the two of you finally tie the knot and live together. You can only keep that in your small heart, a really simple dream you wish you can achieve. Living with Ten for the rest of your life, why? Because you know he is the man made for you. But are you the woman made for him?

You finish your breakfast and as the washing machine finished its job in drying the clothes too, you hear his phone rings. Ten glances at the buzzing noise. You toss him a small smile before leaning in to kiss him and walking away to take the laundries. You pick up his shirt, Ten does his duty to wash the dishes and pan he used.

"Let me iron this quickly," You disappear to at least send him off to work in a nice attire.

Ten places the last dish on the drying rack and he starts to pack all of his stuffs, he brushes his hair and teeth, puts his cap back on and his eyes soften when he sees you coming back with a neat shirt.

He finally takes off his apron and with your help, put on his tidy sweet smelled shirt. Secretly Ten loves your laundry soap and that's one reason why he used your washing machine. He wants to smell like you!

"So, when can I see you again?" You ask as you fix his collar. You're facing him and only inches away from his nose.

Ten smiles and puts his hands over your waist, he leans in to stare deeper into your eyes, "Whenever you want miss! I'm only one call away," he winks.

Both of your face are slowly erasing the gap between you two and just as you close your eyes his phone abruptly kills the mood. You pull your face back and you can see Ten cussing at the caller.

"Damn Lucas! Such a mood breaker! I told him I am coming in 10 minutes," Ten presses the red button and pockets his phone. You burst out laughing, of course it must be Lucas!

"Well, guess you will want to go before Kun calls you! Thanks for yesterday and today and everything!" You hug him and bury your face on his chest. "I wish you can come often and do my dishes!" You taunt your tongue.

Ten ruffles your hair and kisses your forehead for the last time, "Okay, I need to go now. You also need to prepare yourself for work."

You nod and note the time, it's an hour to the store opening hours, you need to get ready.

"Bye love, take care! I love you." Ten walks to the exit after putting on his coat and shoes.

"Love you more!" You stand by his side facing by the exit door.

"Love you most," he winks and finally pulls his cap to cover his face and puts his mask on. He finally turns around and walks to the lift.

You return to your room, taking a bath and getting ready for another long week. You believe if you can get through this, your dream of living with Ten will be clearer and brighter.

Your day goes on and you cannot lie whenever you see him on social media, a website, a magazine, or a music show, even from the talks from your customers, you cannot throw the disturbing insecurities away from your mind.

Is our love hopeless?

Will the world accepts me as his significant other?

Will his family love me?

Will he even stay by my side, or will he found someone new who is better than me?

Those are the things you cannot spill to him that haunt you every time he is away.

You play with the promise ring Ten gave you on your two years anniversary. The dark minds foreshadowing your mind suddenly disappear just as you remember the same words Ten always recites, "You're the puzzle that fits into me, why would I let you go? Trust me and wait for me, I love you more than anything!"

With that, your smile erupts back into your face and the rainbow in your heart plus mind is back. You know you just have to trust Ten the same way he trusts you! Life will bring you two together if it is meant to be, and fate will also play a part.

Because Trust is everything you need for an everlasting love story right?