#give me bold flirty men but FAKE

[oceanlils]

i hate men flirting except when the man in question is BOLD and FICTIONAL

[istumpysk]

Operation Stumpy Re-Read

AFFC: Cersei VI (Chapter 28)

The Winds of Winter is delayed because he convinced himself every chapter needs to be the size of a short novel.

"There are other men as well, I hear. Knights and courtiers. Admirers. Tell me true, my lady. Do you think Margaery is still a maiden?"

"She says she is, Your Grace."

"So she does. What do you say?"

Taena's black eyes sparkled with mischief. "When she wed Lord Renly at Highgarden, I helped disrobe him for the bedding. His lordship was a well-made man, and lusty. I saw the proof when we tumbled him into the wedding bed where his bride awaited him as naked as her name day, blushing prettily beneath the coverlets. Ser Loras had carried her up the steps himself. Margaery may say that the marriage was never consummated, that Lord Renly had drunk too much wine at the wedding feast, but I promise you, the bit between his legs was anything but weary when last I saw it."

"Did you chance to see the marriage bed the morning after?" Cersei asked. "Did she bleed?"

"No sheet was shown, Your Grace."

I'm guessing Loras being present helped with that.

I still don't understand what the long-term plan was with these three. Was there seriously no consummation? Did they never intend to have sex? She was on board with her husband being gay and in love with her brother? What about an heir?

I have so many questions.

+.+.+

A pity. Still, the absence of a bloody sheet meant little, by itself. Common peasant girls bled like pigs upon their wedding nights, she had heard, but that was less true of highborn maids like Margaery Tyrell. A lord's daughter was more like to give her maidenhead to a horse than a husband, it was said, and Margaery had been riding since she was old enough to walk.

I'm sharing because it made me laugh out loud.

+.+.+

"I understand the little queen has many admirers amongst our household knights. The Redwyne twins, Ser Tallad . . . who else, pray tell?"

Lady Merryweather gave a shrug. "Ser Lambert, the fool who hides a good eye behind a patch. Bayard Norcross. Courtenay Greenhill. The brothers Woodwright, sometimes Portifer and often Lucantine. Oh, and Grand Maester Pycelle is a frequent visitor."

"Pycelle? Truly?" Had that doddering old worm forsaken the lion for the rose? If so, he will regret it. "Who else?"

"The Summer Islander in his feathered cloak. How could I have forgotten him, with his skin as black as ink? Others come to pay court to her cousins. Elinor is promised to the Ambrose boy, but loves to flirt, and Megga has a new suitor every fortnight. Once she kissed a potboy in the kitchen. I have heard talk of her marrying Lady Bulwer's brother, but if Megga were to choose for herself, she would sooner have Mark Mullendore, I am certain."

Highlighting for later.

Pycelle frequently visits Margaery, but it's those flirty cousins and their suitors we should be paying attention to.

+.+.+

When Taena frowned, a tiny crease appeared between her dark eyes. "Every morn and every night he [Loras] visits, unless duty interferes. Her brother is devoted to her, they share everything with . . . oh . . ." For a moment, the Myrish woman looked almost shocked. Then a smile spread across her face. "I have had a most wicked thought, Your Grace."

"Best keep it to yourself. The hill is thick with sparrows, and we all know how sparrows abhor wickedness."

I can only assume her idea is spreading fake news about Loras and Margaery. That's a bold suggestion from someone playing both sides.

+.+.+

"So I suspect. As a rule the Most Devout elevate one of their own, but there have been exceptions." Grand Maester Pycelle had informed her of the history, at tedious length.

Always pay attention to history, Cersei.

+.+.+

"During the reign of King Baelor the Blessed a simple stonemason was chosen as High Septon. He worked stone so beautifully that Baelor decided he was the Smith reborn in mortal flesh. The man could neither read nor write, nor recall the words of the simplest of prayers." Some still claimed that Baelor's Hand had the man poisoned to spare the realm embarrassment.

King Baelor the Blessed sounds like a looney tune. How predictable.

Is that last part about poison relevant?

+.+.+

"After that one died, an eight-year-old boy was elevated, once more at King Baelor's urging. The boy worked miracles, His Grace declared, though even his little healing hands could not save Baelor during his final fast."

Please!!

+.+.+

Lady Merryweather gave a laugh. "Eight years old? Perhaps my son could be High Septon. He is almost seven."

"Does he pray a lot?" the queen asked.

"He prefers to play with swords."

"A real boy, then. Can he name all seven gods?"

"I think so."

"I shall have to take him under consideration." Cersei did not doubt that there were any number of boys who would do more honor to the crystal crown than the wretch on whom the Most Devout had chosen to bestow it.

Yes! A number of boys! Who cares if he doesn't know how to read or use utensils? Not me.

+.+.+

This is what comes of letting fools and cowards rule themselves. Next time, I will choose their master for them. And the next time might not be long in coming, if the new High Septon continued to annoy her. Baelor's Hand had little to teach Cersei Lannister where such matters were concerned.

I believe her.

+.+.+

"You should bring this son of yours to court," Cersei told Lady Merryweather. "Six is not too young. Tommen needs other boys about him. Why not your son?" Joffrey had never had a close friend of his own age, that she recalled. The poor boy was always alone. I had Jaime when I was a child . . . and Melara, until she fell into the well. 

Unreliable narrator Cersei Lannister.

Cause, you know.

+.+.+

"Your Grace is kind, but Russell has never known any home but Longtable. I fear he would be lost in this great city."

"Bring my son to court to befriend the king? Nah, we're good, thanks."

Hun, this is not your friend.

+.+.+

We had to have those ships. She could not rely upon the Arbor for her navy; the Redwynes were too close to the Tyrells. She needed her own strength at sea.

The dromonds rising on the river would give her that. Her flagship would dip twice as many oars as King Robert's Hammer. Aurane had asked her leave to name her Lord Tywin, which Cersei had been pleased to grant. She looked forward to hearing men speak of her father as a "she."

rofl.

+.+.+

Another of the ships would be named Sweet Cersei, and would bear a gilded figurehead carved in her likeness, clad in mail and lion helm, with spear in hand. Brave Joffrey, Lady Joanna, and Lioness would follow her to sea, along with Queen Margaery, Golden Rose, Lord Renly, Lady Olenna, and Princess Myrcella. The queen had made the mistake of telling Tommen he might name the last five. He had actually chosen Moon Boy for one. 

Really?

Samwell, please make sure the Renly chapters are accurate.

+.+.+

She wore a white gown slashed with cloth-of-gold, lacy but demure. It had been several years since the last time she had donned it, and the queen found it uncomfortably tight about the middle.

It's unnecessary that I keep highlighting this, yet here I am doing it again.

+.+.+

The day she wed Robert Baratheon, thousands had turned out to cheer for them. All the women wore their best, and half the men had children on their shoulders. When she had emerged from inside the sept, hand in hand with the young king, the crowd sent up a roar so loud it could be heard in Lannisport. "They like you well, my lady," Robert whispered in her ear. "See, every face is smiling." For that one short moment she had been happy in her marriage . . . until she chanced to glance at Jaime. No, she remembered thinking, not every face, my lord.

Doomed before they even made it out of the sept.

+.+.+

No one was smiling now. The looks the sparrows gave her were dull, sullen, hostile. They made way but reluctantly. If they were truly sparrows, a shout would send them flying. A hundred gold cloaks with staves and swords and maces could clear this rabble quick enough. That was what Lord Tywin would have done. He would have ridden over them instead of walking through.

What else would he do, Cersei?

Lord Tywin would not have bothered with a search. He would have burned that town and every living creature in it. Men and boys, babes at the breast, noble knights and holy septons, pigs and whores, rats and rebels, he would have burned them all. - The Griffin Reborn, ADWD

+.+.+

"We ask no vengeance for our dead," said the one-legged man, "only protection for the living. For the septs and holy places."

"The Iron Throne must defend the Faith," growled a hulking lout with a seven-pointed star painted on his brow. "A king who does not protect his people is no king at all."

This always feels like a Jon shoutout.

+.+.+

But as she made her way through the press to the steps of the sept, a gaggle of armed men stepped out to block the doors. They wore mail and boiled leather, with here and there a bit of dinted plate. Some had spears and some had longswords. More favored axes, and had sewn red stars upon their bleached white surcoats. Two had the insolence to cross their spears and bar her way.

"Is this how you receive your queen?" she demanded of them.

Blocking the Queen Regent from entering. That's pretty outrageous.

Red flag, Cersei. Red flag.

+.+.+

"You are welcome here, but your men must leave their swordbelts. No weapons are allowed within, by command of the High Septon."

"Knights of the Kingsguard do not set aside their swords, not even in the presence of the king."

"In the king's house, the king's word must rule," replied the aged knight, "but this is the house of the gods."

They don't answer to kings, they answer to their gods.

Cersei? 🚩🚩🚩

+.+.+

"I do not see my friend Septon Torbert."

"Septon Torbert has been confined to a penitent's cell on bread and water. It is sinful for any man to be so plump when half the realm is starving."

The flag, Cersei. It's red.

+.+.+

"We have no crown, Your Grace."

Her frown deepened. "My lord father gave your predecessor a crown of rare beauty, wrought in crystal and spun gold."

"And for that gift we honor him in our prayers," the High Septon said, "but the poor need food in their bellies more than we need gold and crystal on our head. That crown has been sold. So have the others in our vaults, and all our rings, and our robes of cloth-of-gold and cloth-of-silver. Wool will keep a man as warm. That is why the Seven gave us sheep."

Haaaaahaha, fuck you Tywin.

+.+.+

He is utterly mad. The Most Devout must have been mad as well, to elevate this creature . . . mad, or terrified of the beggars at their doors. Qyburn's whisperers claimed that Septon Luceon had been nine votes from elevation when those doors had given way, and the sparrows came pouring into the Great Sept with their leader on their shoulders and their axes in their hands.

Cersei, I'm begging you.

+.+.+

Incense sweetened the air, and beside the seven altars candles shone like stars. A thousand twinkled for the Mother and near as many for the Maid, but you could count the Stranger's candles on two hands and still have fingers left.

Since we're in a sept, I'll pray this isn't the Arya foreshadowing I think it is.

+.+.+

At the Mother's altar, a septon was leading a hundred sparrows in prayer, their voices as distant as waves upon the shore. The High Septon led Cersei to where the Crone raised her lantern. When he knelt before the altar, she had no choice but to kneel beside him. 

Hahaha, he took her to the Crone instead of the Mother.

+.+.+

"Night soil can be washed away more easily than blood, Your Grace. If the plaza was befouled, it was befouled by the execution that was done here."

He dares throw Ned Stark in my face? "We all regret that. Joffrey was young, and not as wise as he might have been. Lord Stark should have been beheaded elsewhere, out of respect for Blessed Baelor . . . but the man was a traitor, let us not forget."

"King Baelor forgave those who conspired against him."

CERSEI. PLEASE.

+.+.+

"War is a dreadful thing. These atrocities are the work of the northmen, and of Lord Stannis and his demon-worshipers."

"Some of my sparrows speak of bands of lions who despoiled them . . . and of the Hound, who was your own sworn man. At Saltpans he slew an aged septon and despoiled a girl of twelve, an innocent child promised to the Faith. He wore his armor as he raped her and her tender flesh was torn and crushed by his iron mail. When he was done he gave her to his men, who cut off her nose and nipples."

(I apologize for making you read that.)

CERSEI. LISTEN.

+.+.+

"As you say. Yet it must be asked—where were the king's knights when these things were being done? Did not Jaehaerys the Conciliator once swear upon the Iron Throne itself that the crown would always protect and defend the Faith?"

Cersei had no idea what Jaehaerys the Conciliator might have sworn. "He did," she agreed

Having no idea is kicking her ass right now.

When Ser Joffrey and Lady Lucinda urged him to undo his uncle Maegor's decrees and reinstate the Swords and Stars, Jaehaerys refused firmly. "The Faith has no need of swords," he declared. "They have my protection. The protection of the Iron Throne." He did, however, rescind the bounties that Maegor had promised for the heads of Warrior's Sons and Poor Fellows. "I shall not wage war against my own people," he said, "but neither shall I tolerate treason and rebellion." - Fire & Blood

He swore the crown would always protect and defend the faith so they would remain disarmed.

+.+.+

It is traditional for every new High Septon to give the king his blessing . . . and yet you have refused to bless King Tommen."

"Your Grace is mistaken. We have not refused."

"You have not come."

"The hour is not yet ripe."

Are you a priest or a greengrocer? "And what might I do to make it . . . riper?" If he dares mention gold, I will deal with this one as I did the last and find a pious eight-year-old to wear the crystal crown.

pleasepleaseplease.

+.+.+

"The realm is full of kings. For the Faith to exalt one above the rest we must be certain. Three hundred years ago, when Aegon the Dragon landed beneath this very hill, the High Septon locked himself within the Starry Sept of Oldtown and prayed for seven days and seven nights, taking no nourishment but bread and water. When he emerged he announced that the Faith would not oppose Aegon and his sisters, for the Crone had lifted up her lamp to show him what lay ahead. If Oldtown took up arms against the Dragon, Oldtown would burn, and the Hightower and the Citadel and the Starry Sept would be cast down and destroyed. Lord Hightower was a godly man. When he heard the prophecy, he kept his strength at home and opened the city gates to Aegon when he came. And His High Holiness anointed the Conqueror with the seven oils. I must do as he did, three hundred years ago. I must pray, and fast."

Is this. . . something?

+.+.+

Cersei itched to slap his solemn, pious face. I could help you fast, she thought. I could shut you up in some tower and see that no one brings you food until the gods have spoken.

You first!

+.+.+

"Give Tommen your blessing, and he shall put an end to these outrages."

"And how shall he do that, Your Grace? Will he send a knight to walk the roads with every begging brother? Will he give us men to guard our septas against the wolves and lions?"

I will pretend you did not mention lions.

Why are you pretending? He mentioned lions! HE MENTIONED LIONS.

+.+.+

"The realm is at war. His Grace has need of every man." Cersei did not intend to squander Tommen's strength playing wet nurse to sparrows, or guarding the wrinkled cunts of a thousand sour septas. Half of them are probably praying for a good raping. 

Oof.

+.+.+

"Your sparrows have clubs and axes. Let them defend themselves."

"King Maegor's laws prohibit that, as Your Grace must know. It was by his decree that the Faith laid down its swords."

It's a trap! IT'S A TRAP.

He wants you to think this is your idea! IT'S NOT YOUR IDEA.

+.+.+

"Tommen is king now, not Maegor." What did she care what Maegor the Cruel had decreed three hundred years ago? Instead of taking the swords out of the hands of the faithful, he should have used them for his own ends. She pointed to where the Warrior stood above his altar of red marble. "What is that he holds?"

"A sword."

"Has he forgotten how to use it?"

"Maegor's laws—"

"—could be undone." She let that hang there, waiting for the High Sparrow to rise to the bait.

He did not disappoint her. "The Faith Militant reborn . . . that would be the answer to three hundred years of prayer, Your Grace. The Warrior would lift his shining sword again and cleanse this sinful realm of all its evil. If His Grace were to allow me to restore the ancient blessed orders of the Sword and Star, every godly man in the Seven Kingdoms would know him to be our true and rightful lord."

You're not casting the bait! YOU'RE NOT CASTING THE BAIT.

What did she care what Maegor the Cruel had decreed three hundred years ago?

omg.

+.+.+

That was sweet to hear, but Cersei took care not to seem too eager. "Your High Holiness spoke of forgiveness earlier. In these troubled times, King Tommen would be most grateful if you could see your way to forgiving the crown's debt. It seems to me we owe the Faith some nine hundred thousand dragons."

He's not forgiving anything! He already knows you never intend to pay! HE ALREADY KNOWS.

+.+.+

The High Septon pondered that a moment. "As you wish. This debt shall be forgiven, and King Tommen will have his blessing. The Warrior's Sons shall escort me to him, shining in the glory of their Faith, whilst my sparrows go forth to defend the meek and humble of the land, reborn as Poor Fellows as of old."

oh no.

+.+.+

The High Septon made a steeple of his hands and raised his eyes to heaven. "Let the wicked tremble!"

Do you hear that, Lord Stannis? Cersei could not help but smile. Even her lord father could have done no better. At a stroke, she had rid King's Landing of the plague of sparrows, secured Tommen's blessing, and lessened the crown's debt by close to a million dragons. Her heart was soaring as she allowed the High Septon to escort her back to the Hall of Lamps.

But he never said anything about Stannis! THERE WAS NO MENTION OF STANNIS.

Tommen won't even get his blessing! THERE WILL BE NO BLESSING.

+.+.+

"The Warrior's Sons were an order of knights who gave up their lands and gold and swore their swords to His High Holiness. The Poor Fellows . . . they were humbler, though far more numerous. Begging brothers of a sort, though they carried axes instead of bowls. They wandered the roads, escorting travelers from sept to sept and town to town. Their badge was the seven-pointed star, red on white, so the smallfolk named them Stars. The Warrior's Sons wore rainbow cloaks and inlaid silver armor over hair shirts, and bore star-shaped crystals in the pommels of their longswords. They were the Swords. Holy men, ascetics, fanatics, sorcerers, dragonslayers, demonhunters . . . there were many tales about them. But all agree that they were implacable in their hatred for all enemies of the Holy Faith."

Holy shit, Lancel is going to kill Drogon.

No but really, is this important? I've spent all my research time looking for red flag gifs.

+.+.+

"We have been picking autumn flowers in the kingswood," she told them.

I know where you were, the queen thought. Her informers were very good about keeping her apprised of Margaery's movements. Such a restless girl, our little queen. She seldom let more than three days pass without going off for a ride. 

[...]

Wherever she went, the smallfolk fawned on her, and Lady Margaery did all she could to fan their ardor. She was forever giving alms to beggars, buying hot pies off bakers' carts, and reining up to speak to common tradesmen.

Had it been up to her, she would have had Tommen doing all these things as well. 

[...]

But the king was deaf to sense, thanks to his little queen. "If we mingle with the commons, they will love us better."

I can't believe this kid is smarter than the whole god damn family.

+.+.+

Every day in every way she tries to steal him from me. Joffrey would have seen through her schemer's smile and let her know her place, but Tommen was more gullible. She knew Joff was too strong for her, Cersei thought, remembering the gold coin Qyburn had found. For House Tyrell to hope to rule, he had to be removed. 

A broken clock, yada yada yada.

+.+.+

It came back to her that Margaery and her hideous grandmother had once plotted to marry Sansa Stark to the little queen's crippled brother Willas. Lord Tywin had forestalled that by stealing a march on them and wedding Sansa to Tyrion, but the link had been there. They are all in it together, she realized with a start. The Tyrells bribed the gaolers to free Tyrion, and whisked him down the roseroad to join his vile bride. By now the both of them are safe in Highgarden, hidden away behind a wall of roses.

What are you talking about? The Tyrells pushed hardest for Sansa and Tyrion to be executed.

So close, yet so far.

+.+.+

In the early years of their marriage, Robert was forever imploring her to hunt with him, but Cersei had always begged off. His hunting trips allowed her time with Jaime. 

Nice try author, but you're not going to convince me Robert was a decent husband.

+.+.+

Margaery smiled at Ser Loras; a sweet sisterly smile, full of fondness. "Your Grace is kind to fear for me, but my brother keeps me well protected."

Go and hunt, Cersei had urged Robert, half a hundred times. My brother keeps me well protected. She recalled what Taena had told her earlier, and a laugh came bursting from her lips.

"Your Grace laughs so prettily." Lady Margaery gave her a quizzical smile. "Might we share the jest?"

"You will," the queen said. "I promise you, you will."

Doesn't she abandon the Loras x Margaery fake news plans? Similar to the Jon Snow thing, it feels like this fizzled out.

Final thoughts:

Maybe arming extremists won't be a disaster? I can't wait to find out.

Hey, did you know, like, 28% of the fandom believes the High Sparrow is Howland Reed?

Is that the least surprising thing you've ever heard?

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[jamestrmtx]

Fairytale Complex - [Undertale | Sans x Reader]

[Gender Neutral, Frisk's Parent Reader | Slow Burn]

Chapter Thirteen | Waterfall (Part 3 of 4 | His POV)

[First] | [Previous] | [Next]

"This is actually our first date, but we're getting there."

His soul almost stops at that sentence, yet he tries not to let it show. Based on how charmed (Y/N) was around monsters who weren't heavily involved with the intentions of the Royal Guard, Sans assumes they're lying for the sake of not letting Roger down. He observes and listens to their exchange by the side, only intervening when he's escorted with them into the shop.

Before arriving at the counter, he brings up that sentence and the meaning behind it. He has some confidence as to what their reply will be, but when they actually speak up, it only complicates his thoughts and the pace of his soul more. "I'm not sure what to think of this myself, but… In the end, I only did it 'cause I couldn't bring myself to get his hopes down."

He'd hit the nail in the head.

But what was the reason behind their doubts?

Did they feel forced to go out with him, simply for having gotten to know Frisk during their journey?

It didn't feel that way, yet he didn't exactly know them well enough to be one-hundred percent sure of those assumptions. For all he knew, they could be pretending and trying to get along with him just for the sake of Frisk's happiness and the rest of their monster friends. It wasn't safe to cross out that possibility yet.

A bunnywoman greets him and he words out his orders, saying (Y/N)'s, then his, and finally Frisk's to-go. He can see the human's wallet already in hand, though they hold it back when he's directed with them to a table, no upfront payment needed. "But even if this was a date, I still don't think I'd be able to accept having another one after today's," they add, sitting down and facing their lap.

At that, his curiosity rises, and he can't help asking them for a little more detail. "What do you mean?"

They fidget before answering. "I need to focus more on raising Frisk before going anywhere with my love life."

"Why?" The monster wants to disappear with how abrupt, rude, and plain nosy that question comes out. Knowing he's already screwed up and not wanting to ruin things further by making them angry, he hurries to elaborate his question better, saying, "So you haven't dated anyone ever since that day?" He breathes out as subtly as possible, relieved to see them nod. 

A brown bear appears, referring to himself as the waiter in charge of the table for today. He's in formal wear, something the human seems to be charmed by; it's an undoubtedly similar look to when they didn't want to disappoint the rabbit. They continue when the bear leaves, words once more catching the skeleton off guard. "I haven't, and to be honest I'd…" They keep quiet for a while, making his doubts return. He's worried he's asking questions far too personal for them to be in any way comfortable with him, but they don't stop with their answers. "I'd like to keep it that way for as long as it's needed. I need to be there for Frisk, and I need to be more careful of who I date from now on." They sound more at ease the further they talk, helping calm some of his own tension down. "You see, I… I really don't want Frisk to grow up in an environment full of constant fights and disagreements." 

That seems to be the final drop in the bucket for them to expose their heart out to him. Words practically flow out of their mouth as they continue to explain the reasons behind their self-imposed limitations. They tell him of Jerry and their relationship with him post-divorce, of those six years without dating anyone, and over the responsibility they felt was on their shoulders ever since Jerry stopped acting as a father for Frisk. He's irked with everything they say -- especially the last part -- but again, he tries not to let his emotions show too much, wanting to listen to them instead. 

As they speak, Sans wonders whether it's okay to continue being all chill and buddy-buddy with Jerry, now knowing him in a different light. The guy was fun to be around with, and he was truthfully the one who'd given him a push to make a move on (Y/N), but he couldn't bring himself to meet up with him again without wanting to use the same sense of judgment he specialized in at the Underground. He was strict and stern when it came to the consequences of others' actions just as he was when it came to judging himself for his own choices in both past and present times.

If Jerry was well-aware he wasn't ready to be a father, then why did he still agree on (having/adopting) a child?

Had it been an unforeseen result, or was there more to it?

A piece of information slips by, though (Y/N) doesn't seem to catch onto it. After the words 'I let him go', follow: "I, well… I was over the moon when he said we could be parents, and I didn't really think about his real feelings about the situation the second he said we could give it a try, so it's… It's primarily my fault all of this happened, either way. I- I should've paid more attention and discussed the situation with him more properly." A bitter smile shows on their face. "Children aren't pets, and even pets aren't that easy of a responsibility, either. I… I should've stopped to think about that choice some more before immediately assuming we were both ready, once he... once he brought up the possibility of us being parents."

Based on how little they react after that confession, it's plain evident they haven't noticed they've let that information slip past, so he chooses not to bring it up. To make up for it, Sans intervenes when he notices they're too caught up in wanting to make things right all in one day. He steps in with his own view on the subject so far, saying, "Don't wanna assume things right off the bat, but…" He pauses, picking up a fork and piercing it through his dish. Then, he faces (Y/N), continuing with, "You kinda feel like you've gotta make up for that? Limiting yourself that much ain't really the best option, though."

They face away and pick up a portion of their dessert along the way. With how calm they look right now, he wonders how they would react had he chosen to bring up the fact they'd just confessed something far too personal in the midst of them being honest with him. "I just don't trust myself enough to make the right decision again." They take a bite.

Sans tries to look away from their lips, not wanting to make himself come off as an indecent person by staring there for too long. While they were dressed far more strikingly and looked far more cheerful compared to previous times, that's no excuse for him to stare, and even less at their face. They were here wearing their heart out on their sleeve for him. Taking advantage of that with any sort of flirting or advancements simply didn't feel right presently.

He offers his point-of-view, only to be interrupted by what he fears is trouble lurking right behind (Y/N)'s back. There's two human men standing close by, pointing at their waist and muttering comments about how 'chunky' they are and how small the off-brand 'Grim Reaper on vacation prop' sitting with them is. He waits and keeps an eye socket out for the two as he continues, only to be interrupted by a loud comment from one of the pair not long after.

"Hey, Kevin," the burliest one of the two says, voice irritatingly loud. "What did the skeleton say to the hog?" 

Laughter follows and the lankier one replies with, "I don't know, Brayan. What?"

Brayan fakes a swoon and attempts to mimic what Sans can only interpret as his own voice with how exaggeratedly rough and Batman-with-a-cold deep it sounds, saying, "Oh, you're the exact opposite of me -- all fat and no bones. What a catch!"

More laughter.

"Wait, wait," Kevin says, voice now heard from closer by. "I've- I've gotta good follow-up to that one." Brayan snorts at that -- obnoxiously rather than cutely. "I might be fat, but you're the real pig here -- liking me only because of those weird tastes of yours!"

"What's bothering you, mi chicharrón? You're my type. I'm only saying the truth!

"And I'm done with you, you bonehead!"

Just as the skeleton expects to be pushed off his chair, his company intervenes by standing up and approaching the man about to send him to the ground. Their stance is firm and their gaze is pissed, the light in their eyes far different from when they snapped at his own flirting. They grab the man by the arm, but it doesn't take much for him to retaliate and seek out help from his partner-in-crime. Far-too soon, a splash is heard and the skeleton sees (Y/N)'s shirt drenched, an empty glass being held by one of the two men still standing nearby. 

Now his turn to act, Sans takes advantage of free Karma and tosses both his drink and theirs at the man responsible for throwing one at (Y/N). The rest is a blur as he pays more attention to them and their condition. Only the comments Kevin and Brayan made about them and the drink thrown at them stay in his mind, occupying the rest of his thoughts. He takes a towel and wraps it around their torso, being extra cautious not to brush his hands anywhere improper, something better said than done with his current situation. They're soaked from neck to waist, the subtle warmth emerging from their body making him further concerned by assuming the drink was still fresh. 

"Was it hot?"

With that question, he receives yet another surprise, both in words and the bold look they give him along with it. "No," he hears (Y/N) say, grinning bright and wide as a subtle, flirty curve shows on their smile. "But you worrying about me kinda is."

His soul lurches at the feeling of their lips on his cheekbone. It's a sensation far too soft for him to have ever been prepared for it, and it's made a lot more intense when they drag the kiss all the way to his ear cavity, lips brushing against his face as they whisper him a 'thank you'. His hands are firm on their waist as the crowd cheers on. It's only when he backs away and lets go of the towel that he can escape from the situation, plopping back down on his chair to recover from it. 

• • •

With the remnants of the earlier incident, it’s a different experience giving the human a ride to his home. The skeleton's now overly alert of everything around him, from their hands around his waist to the rumbling of other engines near him. Thankfully, a cloudy sky, strong winds, and a light drizzle aid as a distraction. He dodges busy streets by taking detours wherever possible, and he focuses on one thing only: getting there before the rain pours any harder. While the helmet shields most of it away, the roar of the clouds above alerts him and seemingly the one holding onto him, based on how they press closer and ask if he’s okay.

“Wouldn’t it be better to stop?” they suggest, voice muffled from too many things at once. There’s the rain picking up, other vehicles zooming past, and the warning of future thunder from the clouds. Add in the helmets, and it’s a necessity for him to take a turn and park by the emergency lane.

The stillness of his surroundings helps provide a better look at the options nearby. Four were available, the last of them the most risky. It was either turn left and stop at a gas station, turn right and stop at an inn, go back and stop at the nearest shopping district available, or continue forward without any proper sense of direction. 

Just as he’s imagining there’s no way (Y/N) could be any bolder than they had been with their kiss, they say, “Let’s stop by the inn.” Their smile quells any hidden meanings. Their tone, on the other hand, has plenty left to be said. “It’s the closest option there is, and judging by the situation up there, it’s the best one, too.”

Right.

He scolds himself mentally for letting his imagination run too far.

Of course, it was his fear of thunder they were referring to!

What else could it have been?

“Alright,” he says, giving in with a huff. “You sure you’re okay with that?”

“Yeah,” they reply, shrugging. “It's getting darker, and the weather’s not too good. I’ll just call Undyne and let her know we'll be returning a little later than expected."

The monster finally grins at that and props the motorcycle back into shape. “You’re being awfully chill about this whole thing, pal.” He jolts when their hands find their place around him once more, settled down when he hears them laugh, airiness present in their tone. They rest their head closer to his shoulder, helmet bumping with his. “Gettin’ real comfy around me, too.”

They pull back, a frown heard in their question, “Would you like me to stop?”

He shakes his head, bringing them closer at a red light. “Not at all.”

Their laughter sounds again, more cheerful and light. Had he no context of where they'd been before the ride, he would’ve assumed they'd taken a drink too many. To see them relax and play along was about as rare as a day not passing by without the sudden awfulness of the weather. It’s been worsening, yet he can’t quite determine why exactly. There were plenty of factors contributing to it, one of the most common being the current season, and the most uncommon somehow related to the accusations monsters received about the bad weather being all their fault.

Flashing, neon lights greet the skeleton when he parks close to the inn, right below a tent made specifically for keeping customers' vehicles out of the bad weather. ‘Open 24/7. Vacant. Family Friendly. Monster Friendly. Absolutely NO pest problem. Suspicious wall stains are actually retro wallpaper patterns, not blood,' and a bunch more other things blare at him in bright lettering. There’s tiny wording at the bottom of the word ‘Inn’, reading: ‘formerly a criminal hideout’, in parentheses.

Sans expects all but more stifled laughter from (Y/N)’s mouth. When he looks towards them, he sees they've already taken their helmet off, revealing teary eyes and a smile. “What's next?” they ask, giggling. “Bet now the hotel guy'll say: ‘Sorry, we’ve only got one room left’.” They take him by the arm and lead him in as soon as the rain pours completely, their laughter drowning out as thunder clashes from nearby. “C’mon,” they call out, tugging him in. “You’ll get sick!” The door jingles as he passes through with them by his side, revealing a lobby far more decent than the outside suggests. “See that? It’s gonna be fine!"

He doesn't say anything and instead lets himself be tugged along. If he'd annoyed them too much with his flirting and this was the world's way of punishing him for it, he accepted it despite what that was doing to his soul. He accompanies them to the registration counter, where an even worse problem waits.

"Welcome!" Mettaton calls out, greeting both him and the human next to him with a smile. Funky music plays on the radio, matching almost eerily with his gaze and the purpose behind his smile. "Room for two, I assume?" He takes out a log book, and a calculative frown shows on his face as he taps his chin with the pen, a smile returning when he looks up. "...Either way, I'm afraid that's all we have right now."

His companion snorts (cutely, in comparison to Brayan), though they cover it up when he tries to get a better look at them, seeing a smile still on. "Told you so," they say, jabbing his waist. They then turn over to the robot, seriousness falling on their face. "We'd like to book it for a night, please."

[First] | [Previous] | [Next]

• • •

Note

This chapter was originally meant to be only 2 parts long, but the request seen here (an older one, as it was suggested in the first version of this fanfic) ended up enriching the story's plot wayyy more than I thought, lol.

• • •

Tag List (Comment or message me if you want to be added to [or removed from] it!)

@the-simp-express

@nektotersh

@disastrous-l0vebug

@therealchickenjoe

@mintyflakes025

@pandaquick

@timelock97

@candle-creeps

[voidnarniaimagines]

Hi. I’m not sure if requests are open, but if they are, is it Alright is you could do an Edmund x reader imagine? Where the reader is forced to marry Edmund due to alliances, Edmund and reader were quite worried that they would not like their fiancé as they had never met before. And then they meet each other a few days before their wedding? And if it isn’t too much, could you add where reader is pregnant and just fluff if that ok? Is this too much to much to ask? Tysm if you do do it. Xx

First off, I’m sorry this took so freaking long to write. Secondly, I sort of followed your request sort of didn’t haha. The reason is because I sort of lost myself in the writing and it went another way. Nonetheless I hope you enjoy it.

ARRANGED MARRIAGES AND UNWANTED BABIES

Warning: like one swear word? + I DIDNT EDIT IT SO PROB LOTS OF MISTAKES

There are various different ways a princess can fuck up. You can run away, punch your maid, start a scandal, get pregnant or marry a peasant, and lucky for you, you managed to do all of the above in the span of one week.

Third in the line of succession of Archenland, your list of duties is endless, and you often find yourself longing for normality, so when Alejandro the cooks assistant offered to sneak you out of the castle on a date, you didn’t hesitate and agreed.

At first it was all very innocent, he held your hand, took you dancing and even paid for the sweet bread you obsessively stared at from outside a bakery. But on your walk back to the castle his posture changed, he became handsy, flirty and bold, and perhaps it was because you had not had your first kiss yet, or the baker slipped something into the sweet bread, but when Alejandro sneaked his hand under your dress, you didn’t stop him.

You didn’t talk to him again after that, that is until your period was late and your maid claimed the only explanation for your sudden weight gain was that you were pregnant. He wanted you to ‘get rid of it’, after all, it was his head on the line or better yet the guillotine, you refused, you had always wanted a child, and although the circumstances were not ideal, you knew if you didn’t have it you would regret it for the rest of your life.

So Alejandro suggested you ran away, you could get married and settled somewhere nice and calm amongst the border of Archenland and Narnia, he would open a restaurant or perhaps a bakery and although it wouldn’t be much, you were thrilled, normal was all that you had ever wanted.

But of course things didn’t go according to plan. After your maid walked in on you trying to sneak out of the window, the rest became a blur. You know you punched her and managed to get to the woods outside of the castle, after that you remember loosing sight of Alejandro him mumbling something about “survival comes first”, next, you remember your dad scolding you and ruining his office, there was broken glass everywhere, and lastly you remember not being able to sleep that night, your mother sobbing outside of your bedroom door, your dad grumbling “what the fuck am I going to do with you”.

It seemed things did turn out alright in the end though, at least for them. A week later your dad called you to his office, he claimed it was urgent. You marched in, head low, hands clasped together in front of you.

“Oh please daughter, stop being so shy, look at me” His voice was loud and diplomatic, and when you looked up you understood why, seated in front of him were two serious and handsome men.

The taller one had dirty blonde hair, and you couldn’t help but let your eyes wonder over his figure, blonde men have always been your type. You stole a glance at the boy next to him, but brushed him off as bland in comparison to his colleague.

“This is my daughter, Princess (y/n) Lady of Archenland” your father interrupted your unholy train of thought.

“It’s a pleasure” you remarked your voice barely above a whisper, you bowed.

Both men stood up and gave you a rapid curtsy, before introducing themselves, “High King Peter of Narnia” the blonde boy kissed your hand and you felt your stomach tying into knots.

“King Edmund of Narnia” he smiled before curtly kissing your hand, it seemed he didn’t wanted to be there either.

“Well, now that you both have become acquainted I believe we are ready to proceed with the wedding preparations.” Your father remarked excitedly

“We are what now?” You shrieked.

And just like that you were back to reality, they say your life flashes before your eyes before you die. Perhaps this was a sign that you were in fact dying and that this wedding had all been a hallucination of your comatose state, the heavy diamond ring on your hand and the annoyed King by your side suggested otherwise.

You and King Edmund waved at the crowd, arms intertwined, and large fake smiles plastered across your faces, you wanted to cry, in fact you needed to cry, pregnancy hormones were sucking the life out of you and your feet felt like they were going to fall off at any second.

As if he had read your mind Edmund grumbled “Just a few more minutes and we can leave”, you weren’t sure if he knew about your pregnancy, and quite frankly you weren’t about to ask, so you swallowed your pain and anger took a deep breath and began counting the seconds until you could leave.

They say time flies when you're having fun, which suggests that the opposite occurs when you're bored. It took a century for Edmund to finally announce you were leaving, and (y/n) couldn’t help but release a huge sight of relief, but there was still one issue or question that remained unanswered, the consummation ceremony.

Although Narnia had long stopped practising the infamous royal consummation ceremony, Archenland hadn’t, which meant that it all came down to the King of Archenland and how much he wanted to continue the so called tradition. Perhaps it was fear that his daughter would be unmasked as not a virgin and humiliated in front of all the other royals, or perhaps he simply didn’t care, he had done his duty after all, saved his daughter’s reputation by marrying her off to a king.

Nonetheless, the ceremony didn’t happen, much to Edmund and (y/n)’s relief, instead they were rushed to their new private quarters at the castle and trusted that they would consummate the wedding without supervision.

— “I need help.” Her voice barely above a whisper (y/n) turned to Edmund, he was staring outside watching the guests leave the castle.

— “With what” he grumbled, he didn’t turn around.

— “I can’t get my corset undone.” He took a huge breath and closed his hand into fists before turning around to face her

— “I haven’t ever undone a corset.” He deliberately moved closer to her, as if regretting ever agreeing to marry her, she stood completely still, facing him, she definitely regretted marrying him.

— “Just undue the ribbons, it’s not that hard”

— “ok”

— “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have been rude, it’s not your fault I’m in this mess.”

— He chuckled. “Great wait to start a marriage, calling it a mess that is.”

She smiled and apologised again, “you don’t have to apologise to me, I know the situation isn’t ideal, but there is no way out of it now. We should at least try to get along.” She nodded agreeing.

He left for the bathroom and as soon as he was out of sight she began to cry, all the pain and the fear she had been bottling up for so long mixed with the pregnancy hormones and it was a recipe for disaster, she shrieked as if she was in pain, hiding her face between her hands and letting out loud sobs.

— “What in the–” Edmund rushed out of the bathroom wearing nothing but his undershirt an underwear, “What is it? Are you ok?” He knelt down in front of her desperately trying to calm her down.

—“ I’m pregnant, I am freaking pregnant.”

He knew, her father had told them, though it was hardly the reason why Edmund was mad about this whole ordeal, in fact an illegitimate baby was the least of his problems, it was the arranged marriage part that bothered him. But at that moment, it dawned on him, she wouldn’t be able to make it through this pregnancy without help, perhaps, Aslan didn’t put (y/n) in his life he had put Edmund in her life. After all he knew the support wouldn’t come from her family, Aslan would want him to put his feelings aside, his anger and disappointment in his brother for rushing him to accept the proposal, and help her, it is his duty.

— “Hey, it’s ok, I know. It’s alright I don’t care.” His words came out jumbled, he had always been terrible with women, he just wanted her to calm down.

She kept mumbling she was sorry but eventually her crying seised, her head now hidden in the crook of his neck and her hands clutching his undershirt tightly, he hugged her. He was going to make this work, he had too.

And perhaps along the way they would fall in love, Edmund would toss his pride aside, and admit he had always found her charming, and her type would change from dirty blondes to brunettes, maybe one day they would find Alejandro again and finally give him what he deserved for leaving a pregnant woman alone in the woods, and maybe, just maybe, one day they would properly consummate their marriage.

[arabellaaaas]

Favorite Worst Nightmare

Part 2: Knee socks

|An Alex Turner x Arabella Davis fanfiction series

Description: When two broken hearted meet, they try and hide their past. A story about two young adults whose pasts won't let them find happiness again in each other's arms right away.

Word Count: 1.8k

A/N: Hello, again! First of all, the gifs are not mine!! FULL CREDITS TO THE AMAZING OWNER. Thank you for the small amount of people that read my story and interacted with it. I hope you all trust me and read this chapter and wait for it to get even better! Have a wonderful day 💕

Everything went incredibly well for her. She just felt like going out to grab a breath of air and smoke a cigarette while escaping the crowd for a little. She loved being back in a room full of random people doing their own things. She missed dancing, singing, chatting with everyone, and having a good laugh with her friend. Speaking of her, she had found a guy she said "she really liked", but that's what she's saying about everyone. She seemed to have fun though, which was important since she tried so hard to convince the brunette to come with her. Arabella was looking over to her right at a group of friends that were drinking their beverages outside while singing the songs they are hearing from the inside of the bar. She smiled a little for herself so she doesn't look like a psychopath. Coming to think of it, she might have looked like one. She was sitting alone, leaning of the wall behind her, smoking while slowly moving her head on the rhythm she was hearing. She had three drinks already but she wasn't feeling dizzy or anything. Maybe just a little more lively. She saw another group entering the bar, trying to see if someone caught her eye. When she tried to breathe the smoke from her cigarette, she couldn't, realizing it went out. She tried to light it again, but her lighter decided that it was a perfect time to stop working. After a few tries, a hand holding a steel lighter reached out to her, helping her out. When the cigarette was finally lighted again, she looked up and saw a man standing in front of her. His hair stood out the most. It was a dark brown slicked back hair with a strand standing on his forehead. It reminded her of men in 1950. She also noticed his leather jacket that matched with his sunglasses in terms of feeling.

"Oh, thank you! Apparently my lighter decided it's time for her to betray me." she joked, smiling at him lightly. He gave off a mysterious vibe that intrigued her a little bit. He took off his glasses, revealing a pair of dark brown eyes that looked directly onto hers. "How come you are sitting here alone?" he isn't hesitating to ask right away, smirking. He also took his pack out of one of the pockets of his jacket and lighted one while still starring into the girl's eyes. "I'm the one who smokes so I have to come alone, I guess. Plus, I needed a little bit of air to cool my mind. But what about you. You came bt yourself as well, I see." He peeked at her knee socks thinking about how they made her look. He remembers seeing all the girls wearing them almost six years ago if not more. The fact that she still wore them to that day made him laugh inside of his head, coming to realize that she maybe doesn't really care about the trends, or maybe she is loving the old-fashioned look. He finally took a glance at her top, which was a silky one that embraced her body. "Well, my mates didn't want to lose the attention the chicks gave them so they decided not to come". "And you didn't get the attention or didn't care enough to stay there?" she asks putting one hand in her pocket and lifting her leg so it was then also leaning on the bright colored wall that was behind her. When looking at him, she could tell that he definitely gets a lot of attention from the girls in there. He was the type of man that most girls would have a crush on. The image he had really had an impact on ladies around since a lot of them were turning their heads over to him. He looked like he didn't care about a lot of things, but in a cool way, not an awful one. But you cannot ever tell how a person actually is by only the first glance.

"Do you think I look like I don't get enough attention?" He said amused. He was clearly joking around, she could tell by his tone. He was confident, something she was interested in. "I didn't say that. I was thinking that you are getting all the attention, I just wanted to talk to you a little more." "We could talk all night long if you want,..." he stopped and looked at her, giving her a hint that he wanted to get her name at the very least. "Arabella Davis" she swiftly completed his phrase, inhaling again. "Brilliant name, I love it. I am Alexander Turner, but you can call me Alex" he stretched his arm to grab her hand and softly kiss the back of it. He really was a gentleman, trying to impress her in an actual wonderful way. It did not even seem cheesy or faked, it was ~brilliant~. "If I may ask, are you from here? Your sense of style tells me you might not be from here." He asked, letting her hand go. She threw her now blown out cigarette to the closest trash can and then came closer to him, answering "I lived here my whole life actually. Why? Do I not dress pretty enough to catch your attention, Alexander?". Her tone was getting really flirty out of the blue. Even he was surprised. A moment ago she was the one joking, now she's flirting. It was really something Alex wanted to explore. As a first impression, he thought she really is someone full of surprises. "Actually, I like it. You're quite my type if I come to think of it." He also came closer to her, placing his hand on the wall, right by her head.

"Oh, you're just trying to flirt. There must be really something about me to come to your liking I guess." Her confidence was subtle but still strong. She hoped that Mr. Confident wanted to hop on the game she just started, and it happened. "There are some things, yeah. but I shall admit, the knee socks really got my attention." he smirks, lowering his voice a little. His voice was somewhere in between the husky type of voice and the clear, calm one. His tone, completed by his Sheffield accent made the brunette want to spend a few more minutes with him. The thing that probably every and each woman noticed about him is that he looks really carefree. He is someone you would most likely want to be around. He would phone someone in the middle of the night to go for a drive to New York, or just to go for some drinks. There's no existent person that could read Alexander Turner from their first contact. This man fools people into thinking they can tell the kind of person he is when in reality the only things they know are the ones he allows them to know. He considers it dangerous to open up to everyone, and he was right. To unveil your feelings to someone that doesn't unveil theirs is like walking yourself to heartbreak. That's why Alex preferred only opening up to people who felt like their plan was not to betray him. People often confuse him with a dark, cold, and miserable gal, when this is only the impression he is trying to pull off so that the rest of the world won't reach out to him. He was playing hard to get, but at the same time, he was well known for his flirting skills. He is one of a kind.

The corners of her mouth rose as he mentioned her piece of clothing she was most confident about. There was something about them that just made her feel so good about herself. For the first time in a while, Alex was actually interested in someone. She made him reach out to her without a second thought, without any trick or anything. Something about her was winking at him. He thought it might be the way she dresses, she stands out. But after a few more moments of chatting, it was her image that she built for herself. Also, her gestures were really subtle but you could tell she did not come here to find someone to shag. She came to have fun and flirt a little, making guys think about her for the next few weeks. He could tell she is not really the woman she is pretending to be. Behind the strong confidence she built up in her eyes, the actual scared teenager was hiding. Her sparkly marble grey eyes we're generally doing fine at hiding feelings, but it did not work for Alex. He figured out she went through a lot but she is the type of woman to firstly help the others before helping herself. Her hands were shaking on her cigarette as she was talking to him, and it was not because she felt intimidated in any way. Besides her psychical characteristics he was trying to learn about more, he noticed a lot of details in her appearance also. What really caught his eye were the freckles she tried to hide with her make-up but couldn't. Small light brown dots could be spotted seeking through her foundation. Her make up was not heavy, but it made a little bit of difference, of course. She had a really healthy posture also. She surely was shorted than him, but God did she make it look like it was not a big discrepancy between them. She stood in front of him with a puffed out chest like she never lost a war. 

"I think I, unfortunately, have to go back to my friend. I don't want to leave her with some random guy she just met," she said, waking him up from the little moment of analyzing he had. "Fair enough, but aren't you talking with some random guy as well?" he took his hand back, placing both in his pockets. "We could be more than just strangers," she says right before she left. She did not say anything other than that, neither did she wait for the man's reaction. There was still time for Alex to grab her number, but she was playing hard to get and he did not want to show off as a bold man. He kept on tracing her walking figure until he could not see her anymore. He shook his head, laughing for himself while lighting up another cigarette before going back to Matt and Miles. He kept on thinking of ways to get her numbers, coming to realize that he did not do that in a while. He shook his head again, realizing that these thoughts will probably be over soon. But that did not withhold him from trying to get past her hard-to-get image.

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

[toujourseven]

Flight 136 | 3

PLOT: Inspired by the series Lost (without the creepy mysterious island monsters). Stranded on an island with BTS after your plane crashed.

THEME: romance, comedy, smut, fluff, friendship,

WARNINGS: Slow Burn. Smut. Flirty Jimin. Strong Independent Woman OC. Bi Tae. Plane crash. Panic attacks. Emotionally done with heartbreaks. Terrorism.

PAIRINGS: Jimin x OC (You can think of it as Y/N. Just think that you were somehow nicknamed Cho lmao) / JK x Lia - inspired character (since she’s physically similar to IU kkkk Why not put IU instead? Hmm. Why indeed?)

Guide for reading

Bold texts are thoughts

I like being able to visualize the characters and the setting so I will insert images from where I based the story on :)

PLEASE DO NOT REPOST MY STORY ANYWHERE. YOU CAN CONTACT ME ON TWITTER IF YOU WANT IT POSTED SOMEWHERE ELSE, I WILL USE MY ACCOUNT TO POST IT THERE. Thank you, loves!

two | MASTERLIST | four

CHAPTER 3

“Okay, so is everyone alright? Thank you so much to our medical student for helping us out. Maybe let’s get to know the basics first, like our names, and the languages we speak, for communication purposes?” Cho was fascinated and almost forgot that she was stranded on an island. Namjoon was really charismatic when he takes on the “leader role”. Even with the current circumstance, he does not lose his cool, at least when in front of the others.

The small group introduced themselves as instructed and found out that Keith was the only one who does not speak Korean, while Namjoon, Lia, and Cho were the three who can give English-Korean translations. Of course, the rest of the BTS members have relatively good receptive skills in English, so they would need more help on the expression part, if and when they need to communicate with Keith.

“We haven’t been exactly trained for island survival in case the plane crashes, but we’ve been given basic guidelines and survival tips. Since the plane must be somewhere deep in the ocean by now, we have no way of communicating. We also have no idea what happened exactly.” Keith had one hand on his waist, and the other rubbing his forehead. It was the first time Cho saw him lose his cool. He was no longer keeping his professional smile, the situation must have caught up to him. He and Namjoon were taking turns in speaking, Namjoon translating.

“For now, we need to secure our safety and survival while waiting for rescue. We can’t just wait while doing nothing. We don’t know how long we will get stuck here.” Namjoon sighed deeply. Cho felt bad for him, he must be feeling so much pressure. The world had just gotten back up from the recession caused by the pandemic after a vaccine has been discovered. Cho knows their previous tour had been cancelled because of that and the company must have suffered so much loss. And now their next tour is being disrupted again by this crisis.

The group decided to pair up, unanimously agreeing no one should wander around alone. Namjoon, Hoseok, and Keith will go around the island, assess the safety of their location, and check if they can find a better area. Jin and Yoongi volunteered to look for edible plants in the forest, as well as to plot the location of fruit trees. Tae, Jungkook, and Lia agreed to go fishing. And Jimin volunteered himself and Cho to go collect firewood and leaves for cooking.

“Good thing we have camping experience, thanks to Bon Voyage.” Tae addressed the group with a grin. “It’s not going to be that easy. We had professionals to guide us then. We’re completely on our own now.” Yoongi answered. Tae visibly pouted. Someone clapped loudly in front, “Alright guys. Be safe, and make sure to get back before the sun sets. Don’t forget to get 1 whistle from the first aid kits per pair, in case you need to call for help.” Namjoon called out.

While Jimin collected their whistle, Cho approached Lia and asked quietly, “Hey, are you going to be okay with them?” Lia glanced at Tae and Jungkook, “I think I’ll be fine. They’re nice. Tae just seems.. hyperactive and playful.”, she gave Cho a reassuring smile. Cho couldn’t help feeling fond and protective of her. She was an only child, and has always longed to have a younger sister. Lia looked so gentle and innocent, Cho just wanted to put her in her pocket. “Are you going to be okay with him?”, she giggled, wiggling her brows, and bumped Cho’s hip, nodding her head towards Jimin who was coming back with 2 whistles and a small bag. Cho just rolled her eyes. So much for innocent.

Jimin approached you and put the whistle around your neck like a medal. Then he did the same to Cho. “Thank you! Please take care of Eonnie!” Cho said brightly as she bowed to him, before following Tae and Jungkook to collect things they can use for fishing. “What a sweet girl,” Jimin commented, watching her tap Jungkook’s shoulder shyly to announce her arrival. Then he sighed and turned to you, “Unlike someone here” You fake gasped, looking affronted. “What ever do you mean? I am sweet! Just not with you.”

We’ll see about that. Jimin thought as he gave her a smirk. “Anyways,” He opened the small bag he was carrying and showed Cho the contents. “I also got us some ropes we can use to tie around the firewood, aaand some bottled water and scissors.” Jimin showed his collection proudly. Scissors? “What are the scissors for?” Cho was confused. “Oh, I was thinking your pants may be a bit hard to move around in. It’s also very hot in this island. Do you want some help altering it?” Cho looked down her attire. Oh yeah, she was still wearing her airport clothes, sans her coat. She actually didn’t mind the length  of her pants as it could provide protection from insect bites and stray branches, but it was hard to move around in. She was actually surprised Jimin had that forethought. “You know what, you’re right! Great thinking, 친구 (chingu/buddy)!”

Cho looked for an elevated surface she can sit on, “Give it here,” palm out, she asked Jimin for the scissors. In response, Jimin waved his finger in front of her face, “Ah, ah, ah. How can I let a lady do this by herself? We wouldn’t want you to accidentally cut your beautiful skin, would we? Now, sit back and relax, Stylist Jimin will do his magic!” He beamed, his eyes disappearing again. Then he kneeled in front of her and carefully fingered the hem of her pants, checking the best area from where to cut it. “Stretch your legs a bit,” Jimin said softly without looking up. Nervously, Cho did as told, scooting forward a bit  to straighten her legs out and making sure to keep her legs closed. Jimin paused, and looked straight into her eyes.

“Spread your legs.” Cho almost choked. How dare he say something so suggestive! She knew he was just having fun teasing her, but the intensity of his gaze and the timber of his voice as he said those words were nowhere near the playful tone he was using earlier. Fearing her voice will betray her if she speaks, Cho responded by angling her body to the right and nodding to the outer seams of her pants. She was wordlessly telling him to cut from there instead. Jimin raised one of his brows but complied and proceeded to cut from the outer seams. He cut slowly and carefully, making sure the scissors do not touch her skin. As opposed to his hands that he made sure to keep contact with her leg the whole time.

Cho was holding her breath, trying to move her leg away from Jimin’s touch every once in a while. “Tsk. You’re going to make it hard for me if you keep squirming like that—” “Just finish it already!” Cho snapped. Jimin stood up, his body bent over hers, keeping in mind the task at hand. “Stop. Moving.” Jimin gripped her knees under her pants. Then he added, “Just relax.” as he softly caressed her knee with his thumb. “How high do you want me to cut it? Up to here?” Then he slowly moved his hand higher, up to her inner mid-thigh, “Or up to here?” He whispered to her left ear.

Cho wanted to push him away, she really did. But Jimin’s intensity was keeping her in place. It had been so long since she flirted with someone like this. And she was torn between giving in for fun, or backing away to seal herself away from men, as she had resolved to do.

“J-just above the knee is fine.” She answered breathlessly, her mind still at an impasse. “Then you really gotta spread your legs now, 예쁜아가씨 (yebbeun agassi/pretty lady)” He said just a bit above a whisper, then backed up a bit to look at her face. His eyes were sparkling with mirth. He was really enjoying this. Cho swallowed, and put her hand over Jimin’s hand that was holding the scissors. She pushed his hand gently, and stood up. “I think doing it this way would be easier. Why don’t you kneel back down and finish your work, Jimin-ssi?” Cho put her right hand on his left shoulder and gently pushed him down. Two can play this game, Park Jimin, and I won’t lose. Cho decided. She looked down at him, and tilted her head in challenge, when he did not move.

Jimin stared at her, trying to not let his awe show on his face. Why haven’t I goofed around with this kind of girls before? I never knew they were so much fun. He slid his hand from her ankle, up to her knee slowly and sensually, before answering, “Yes, my lady,”. His words were submissive, but his actions were anything but. He never broke eye-contact with her as he did this. His stare returning her challenge on who can really dominate the other. He nudged her leg to make her open up wider. Cho just rolled her eyes and complied. Jimin smiled and moved closer than necessary. Way closer, that his hair was already touching the material of her pants. Looking up, Jimin asked, “Is this okay?” His chin just a few millimeters away from her belly button.

You think this is going to make me back down? She smiled sweetly, “Oh yes!” Jimin smirked in victory and finally started cutting her pants along her knee. He made sure to caress her inner thigh more often than necessary. But not enough to make her knees buckle and accidentally cut her. He can feel her leg muscle tightening in tension, but when he glanced at her, she was the epitome of indifference. She was staring at her nails, looking bored out of her mind. Now cutting her pants from the other leg, Jimin couldn’t help but snigger. She was really competitive, he liked that very much. It spurs his own competitiveness. He snipped the last length of the material but didn’t let it fall on the ground. He put the scissors down and checked if she was looking at him. She wasn’t. Sneakily, he inched his finger further up until he reached the edge of her—

Jimin felt himself being pulled up, before his back was slammed into a tree trunk with his arm twisted behind him. His eyes widened as he found Cho’s body pushing against him, her elbow under his chin, her knee pushing into his groin.

“Ah, ah, ah. You wouldn’t want the pretty lady to think you’re not a gentleman, now, would you Jimin-ssi?” Her eyes were wide and alert, her chest heaving up and down as she catches her breath, but there was a small smile on her lips.

A woot was heard from behind them, “Whooo! That was hot!!” Hoseok was passing by when Cho launched her self-defense tricks on Jimin. “But is everything alright here?” He carefully watched their faces, trying to gauge the mood.

Jimin laughed out loud, “Alright, alright! I’m sorry. I lost.” Then he gave Cho his most powerful puppy dog eyes. Cho exhaled and let him go. Shaking her head from amusement. He really took her by surprise. She didn’t think he would go that far in a public place and her instincts just kicked in. She was just glad her body didn’t go into attack mode, she would hate herself if she gave Jimin any kind of injury.

“We’re fine hyung!” Then he waved Hoseok away. After he was gone, Jimin bent over, his hands on his knees. “What was that? Are you.. an MMA fighter or something?” He coughed. Cho quickly checked him over, “Oh no, are you okay? Did I hurt you? Oh no, oh no, oh no,” She was panicking, and Jimin realized she was as surprised as him with her actions. Jimin slid down along the tree trunk and slouched on the sand. More than anything, his pride was the most hurt.

“I’m sorry, I took a self-defense class when I started living alone. I was so paranoid that I took the lessons several times a year to make sure my body won’t forget the skills, and now.. my body just moves automatically. I’m so sorry! So sorry!” She continued to touch his neck to check for red marks.

Jimin can no longer count how many times this girl, woman, had him speechless with awe. He has never met anyone like her before. She was pretty, although not in a drop-dead gorgeous way. She was not the type you’d notice in a crowded room, but her confidence raises up her charm. She was kind, but she wouldn’t go down a fight. She was smart, but she was not condescending. It makes Jimin wonder whether other people are as multi-faceted as her, and if he just did not look at people closely. Or if this lady before him was simply a unique creation made to make him weak in the knees.

He caught her fiddling hands, and put them down gently. “I’m fine. You just caught me by surprise.” He reassured her. Then added self-consciously, “…I’m sorry if I took it too far.” To his surprise, she giggled.

“It’s okay, really. It was fun.” They stared and smiled at each other for a little while more before Cho finally stood up to check her new outfit.

*Her island outfit now looks a bit like this

“Thanks for helping me cut them. Let’s go get those firewood. I don’t want BTS to think I’m a slacker!” She laughed. Jimin stood up too and grabbed the small bag. “Hey. I’m BTS too!” He pulled something from the bag and handed it to Cho. “Here. I also got you this. Uhm, I just.. I thought..” He didn’t really know how to explain why he got her a shirt to cover herself up. She was still wearing her fitted tank and he didn’t want her going around the island in front of everyone looking like that.

Especially not in front of that liar, Keith. But after practically feeling her up, he was at a loss.

“You want me to wear this? Hmm. Alright, turn around. Make sure no one’s looking.” He was so glad she didn’t question him over it anymore. She didn’t really feel like removing her top out in the open so she just pulled the blouse over her current top. “Done! Okay, let’s go!” She started walking towards the trees but he stopped her.

“Wait. I’m changing too. You don’t have to turn.” He winked and gathered the hem of his sweatshirt, and lifted It up to his chest. “You are perfectly welcome to look.” Then he pulled his sweatshirt over his shoulders and head. He threw the shirt aside and pulled another white shirt from the bag. Of course, he took his time and flexed his muscles. Cho was too shocked to react, so she just watched. He was really fit. She already knew that. He definitely knew that. The little shit. He did his signature move of pushing his hair back away from his forehead then said cutely “Jjan! Let’s go 예쁜 아가씨~ ” He grabbed her hand and led the way to the trees. Cho simply smiled and shook her head and let him lead her.

[ Jimin changed from this to this ]

Lia shyly tapped Jungkook’s arm. “Hi, here’s our whistle that I got from Jimin-oppa! What else can I help with?” Jungkook smiled at her and shook his head, “It’s alright, V-hyung and I will carry everything.” She looked at all things they had to carry, it looked a handful. “Are you sure? I can carry at least one of those.” She felt an arm drop around her shoulders and turned to see it was Taehyung. “That’s right! We just need your cute self cheering for us~ ” Lia stepped back and bowed to him, “안영하세요 (annyeonghaseyo), I’m Lia. Nice to meet you!” She introduced herself again since it’s their first time talking to each other. Then she stepped closer to Jungkook. She felt uncomfortable being touched by Tae for some reason. She hardly knew him, after all.

Jungkook tried to hide his smile. He felt strangely pleased that Lia seemed more comfortable around him. He knew he was developing a crush on her. It didn’t help that Lia was treating him like a normal person, and not a worldwide superstar. He really loved that. Their kiss also had a huge effect on him. It wasn’t his first kiss. He’s not a fuck boy like Tae, but he did have his own share of sexual partners in the past. But he found that Lia ‘kissing’ him for medical purposes was hotter than any other kiss he had in the past. Maybe he had a doctor/patient kink. Huh.

“Hey guys, get some change of clothes over here!” Jin called them over to gather around the suitcases they collected.

From their airport outfits:

To island outfits:

*Tae and JK said they were already comfortable and didn’t need a change of clothes >_<

The fishing trio then headed down the beach to where Suga and Jin directed them. “This is fun. I have never actually tried fishing before. How about you guys?” Lia asked as she tried to spot some fish under the clear water. Jungkook was tying a safety pin on the edge of the stick they collected. “Well, Suga-hyung and Jin-hyung love fishing. I sometimes join them. But I couldn’t sit too long without moving. It’s meant for highly lethargic people, I think.” He gave her a sideways glance and smile. Lia moved closer to him, his makeshift fishing pole catching her attention. Jungkook felt his heart beat faster. Damn.

“I’ll try to catch some with my bare hands!” Tae shouted with his box smile plastered on his face, already knee-deep in the waters. He had removed his shirt to use it as a net. Jungkook highly doubted he’d catch anything with that. But he knew there was no stopping that Hyung from doing what he wants. He was more concerned over Lia seeing him topless. He looked back at her, only to see that she’s back to checking out the makeshift fishing pole he had in his hands. His eyes widened as she placed her hands on top of his, to help tie the thread. She giggled, “Your hands are too big, here let me.” He gave her the pole, glad to have a reason to keep watching her.

Lia’s forehead was scrunched up in concentration, her slim fingers working hard to tie the thread securely. Her hair was slowly falling over her shoulder, hiding her face. Before he could realize what he was doing, his hand was tucking her hair neatly behind her ear, so he could see her face better. Jungkook froze, his mind zooming over excuses he could say. But Lia just said thanks softly, and continued her work without even glancing at him.

Whew. Jungkook let go of the breath he was holding. That was a close one. But he couldn’t help feeling disappointed that he seemed to have no effect on her. He dropped his arms and pouted to himself.

“Well, well, well. What do we have here?” Tae smirked to himself, his hands on his waist. He witnessed that tiny episode. And Jungkook may not have noticed it, but Tae definitely saw how red Lia’s face was when Jungkook touched her. “Wah, I put my arm around her and she practically runs away. But Kookie does that cheesy thing and she blushes so cutely?” He does a thinking pose, his thumb and index finger cupping his chin. “Let’s see~ First there’s my Chimmy and that noona. Then here we have Kookie and little miss doctor. Tae tae is going to have soooo much fun! I’m sure one of those couples would be open for some threesome action. Kekeke- WAH! A fish! Come here fishyyyyy.”

“So… I’ve been meaning to ask. Have we met before?” Cho finally decided to just ask the question that has been nagging her ever since she woke up on that island. “I mean... I’m sure that as much of a flirt you are, you don’t just try to hit on random strangers, especially while stuck on an island.” Cho straightened up and dropped the sticks she collected beside Jimin who was trying to tie up the last batch of firewood they collected. Sweat was collecting on his forehead. The veins on his arms were bulging out as he put all his strength in securing the ropes. While waiting for him to answer, Cho thought how admirable he is. She had not thought of BTS for a long time. She used to listen to their music and even watched some of their variety shows. She had been a fan for a year before her life had turned haywire. She never even got the chance to see them live. The changes she made to her life indirectly caused BTS to disappear from her radar.

Anyways, she found it admirable that the boys were all trying their best in this situation. Not one of them had shown a diva attitude, as is usually expected from some big name superstars. They had been nothing but considerate and treated everyone as equals. She suddenly froze, a weird thought passing through her mind. We’re not in some hidden camera prank, right? Jimin wouldn’t be openly flirting with me if we were. She looked around urgently, trying to make out cameras from behind the leaves and bushes.

“What are you doing?” She snapped her head back to look at Jimin. “We’re not- you’re not- currently filming are you? Like some BTS in the Wildlife or something?” Cho asked him, her eyes still fearful. Then she went back to paranoidly checking their surroundings. Then Jimin laughed out loud. He was laughing so hard, he fell from the log he was sitting on. “Ah, really. You’re really amazing.” Cho visibly deflated, hanging her head down. “I know it’s crazy. It’s just— Argh!” Cho kicked some dirt “It’s not entirely impossible, you know.”

“It is. We’re not going to string along innocent strangers like you, and subject you to this kind of trauma— just for a show.” He has calmed down and sat beside you on the log again. “We’re all just.. stuck in this unfortunate situation together.” Both of you sighed, lost in your individual thoughts. “We have met before. Back in the airport.” Cho looked confused. Jimin scooted away from her and cleared his throat.

“Want to see some… magic?” He said in an animated voice then looked around the forest exaggeratedly. Cho’s eyes widened in realization. “You saw that??” Then she laughed. Such a  lovely laugh. “Oh my goodness. But- I didn’t see you there? I’m sure I would’ve noticed the commotion if Park Jimin was seen in public.” She paused, thinking some more, then gasped. She narrowed her eyes at Jimin as her mind put two and two. “Bucket hat. With mask? That was you? Huh.”

Jimin eye-smiled. “Bingo! I went there for some peace and quiet. But instead, I saw a pretty lady performing some magic tricks. I never asked about your job. You were so good with that kid. Are you a teacher?” Cho leaned on one arm and stared into space. “I was once. But about 2-3 years ago I changed professions. I’m a linguist now. I study different languages and do all sorts of jobs related to that.”

“Do you regret changing your job?” Jimin asked softly.

“Huh? No, I.. I really like my job. And I’m happy to be working with languages. It’s really amazing. Every country has something unique to their language and sometimes, there are words or phrases that has no direct translation to any other language. And it’s all because of their culture. We are all humans, but we grew up with different beliefs and values, and that’s how many conflicts arose. But it makes me think, what if the whole world has only ONE language, and ONE culture, like- the human culture, wouldn’t it create less misunderstandings? But then— it would be so sad to have all the existing culture to just stop.. existing.” Cho sighed deeply, then got lost in her thoughts silently.

Jimin burst into giggles. “Cho, Ah~ Cho! You’re really, really, so fun and interesting! Aside from the fact that you sounded very passionate about what you do, did you realize that you switched back and forth from Korean and Japanese??”

Cho’s jaw dropped. “Oh no! I do tend to do that when I’m rambling and when my thoughts are so fast!” Then she laughed,  “I got fired from a couple of translating jobs because of that.” She said matter-of-factly.  She chuckled then looked up. “It’s getting dark, we should head back.” Cho carried a couple of firewood bundles, “Don’t even think of stopping me. You can’t carry ALL of that.” Jimin just nodded and teased you, “Hai~ (Yes in Japanese) ” Cho laughed, “Stop teasing me!”

A/N: My chapters are getting longer! Yay! I’m sorry some members’ parts are short! As much as I’d love to make equal parts for OT7, this story is mainly revolving around Jimin and JK’s love story, plus the overall plot. I’m also too excited to finish the story and get to the good parts. When the story is finished, I might make some one shots about the other members in this universe. I actually have the Season 2 for this story planned out already. I am that excited, lol.

CREDITS FOR THE PHOTOS NOT MINE. Found all of them on Pinterest! Let me know if it’s yours and want it to be taken down. :) 

two | MASTERLIST | four

[vigilantobserver]

My friend asked me to make this for her. I take only half the responsibility.

Warning: I have only watched the 2 first seasons of Tokyo ghoul and it was years ago so please, don’t attack me. Also this fanfic includes people with animal features and behaviors (I pity the person monitoring my search history)

Disclaimer: I do not own Tokyo ghoul or it’s characters. The only thing I do won is this fanfiction.

For those brave enough to read: please enjoy this mess of a fanfic

Mismatched colours

Mismatched. It was the only way that Touka could describe the quiet, white haired boy. You’d think that she was talking about his difference in behaviour when he was a hungry, hunting ghoul compared to when he was being a relatively normal, meek citizen, but that wasn’t quite it.

Sure, the boy was truly not made to be a ghoul and was obviously suffering under his situation. She had a feeling that if he got hit by more tragedies, he would someday lose himself completely.

 But that wasn’t what truly caught her attention. No, what actually made him so mismatched to her was his appearance. And she did not mean him being a one eyed ghoul either. It was his fur.

Kaneki was a hare with deep black ears and tail. The boys ears were big and flopped at the side of his head to lay on his shoulders (only ever standing up when he was in a fight), the white hair contrasting starkly with the deep coloured ears. Normally hybrid’s fur either matched their hair colour perfectly or there was at least some of their hair colour on their extra body parts, whether in form of stripes, intricate patterns or dots. She herself was an example of having multiple colours. Her own smaller, constantly perked up, vigilant ears where a purple at the roots that faded into the purest white.

It was an unusual sight to see, but for some reason it both fit the boy and at the same time didn’t at all. One the one hand, some people tend to look at him weird. Confused by his fur they keep their distance, like he was some diseased person. Something wrong in the world.

On the other hand, the mismatched fur was aesthetically pleasing, even almost alluring.  The strange and unique colouring bought him a lot of, most of the time unwanted, attention from women and men alike (the eyepatch really did not help here).

The perfect example for this where a group of girls giggling in one corner of the café. A Canary and a blue-Russian cat where teasing the ferret of the group, urging the red faced girl to go talk to Kaneki. It quite honestly raised her hackles. Couldn’t they see that he did not want to be bothered?

She was about ready to put a claim on him herself, to release her pheromones and invite him to chase, to dance, just so that people would finally leave the poor teen be. A bit of her scent would be enough to keep most people away. And the more persistent ones could answer to her. She wasn’t afraid to fight for her claim. Not that she truly wanted him as a mate, or anything…

Ok, that’s a lie, she kind of actually did. She just couldn’t help but be protective of him. She couldn’t help but want him. He was unique, kind and strong when the situation called for it. The perfect mate, that would be able to both make her feel needed and be there when she needed him. But many hybrids mate for live nowadays and she was not sure if she was ready to make such a decision.

Cheering broke her train of thought. She looked up from where she had been cleaning a table, for probably already way too long, and her tail raised a bit as she saw the ferret girl move towards Kaneki. To think that she would actually try her luck. Touka had to give her credit for her bravery. Or maybe it was just foolishness.

After all, Touka was not just going to let this slide. No matter how cute and small the ferret was, no matter how good she would look next to the one eyed boy, Touka would not just let her fellow bunny be seduced.

Not wanting to be caught snooping, Touka moved to clean another table closer to where Kaneki was drying glasses behind the bar. She kept her ears on attention to listen to every word. She wasn’t going to interfere immediately. It wasn’t her place after all to scare pursuers of Kaneki. In the end it is his decision who he wants to be with, but that didn’t mean she wouldn’t save him if he got uncomfortable.

“Hi! My name is Misa. Can I know your name?”

Touka scoffed. The tone the ferret girl used had such a fake sweetness it made her sick.

“Ah… It’s Kaneki. Kaneki Ken.”

„Ken, huh. Such a nice name! Ah, can I call you Ken? I’d really like to.”

“Um, I’d actually prefer if you didn-“ 

“Yes? Ok, good! Say, let’s go on a date.”

Touka’s head snapped up. Did that girl really just do that? Sure, other people had been blunt before but this was a new level. It was almost offensive.

“Uh-um, I’m sorry but I don’t think-“

“Aw, come on! It’s only a date. I promise I’ll make it worth your while.”

“I-I…”

He was uncomfortable. His ears had moved from their comfortable position over his shoulders to pinned behind his head. Kaneki was extremely uncomfortable and she couldn’t blame him. The audacity of that girl! Touka watched as the hare tried to back away from the flirty brunette girl, only for her to grab onto his arm tight. (When had she moved behind the bar?)

That was the last straw. Like hell would she let that persistent bitch force him into anything. Touka took a deep breath and made her way over to the pair. Kaneki spotted her over the ferrets shoulder and his pleading, anxious, hopeful gray eye met her purple ones. She nodded her head slightly and watched as relief took over his whole being.

Touka cleared her throat loudly, catching the girls attention. Brown, annoyed eyes focused on her and a sharp mouth snapped rudely.

“What do you want? Can’t you see we are busy?!”

Touka raised an unimpressed eyebrow and crossed her arms.

“The only thing I see is you harassing my coworker, so I’ll have to ask you to leave.”

Brown eyes widened, only to immediately narrow.

“The fuck?! I’m not harassing shit! Mind your own damn business!”

Touka could feel her temper rise. She took a look around to see other customers watching the scene with anger and incredulously in their expressions. Seems like they all feel the same.

“Listen here, bitch. You are obviously not only making Kaneki but everyone here uncomfortable. So, I’m gonna give you two options: 1. You leave right now without making a fuss and never come back, or 2. I throw you out myself.”

“Ha! You and what army?”

The girl hissed this while baring her fangs and showing off her claws.

Touka bared her teeth and smirked.

“I don’t need one.”

With a grunt Touka attacked. Before the ferret could react she was in the air as Touka lifted her over to the front door by her collar. The girl began to struggle and tried to claw at Touka’s hands. But it was to no avail.

“What the hell are you doing?!”

“Taking out the trash.”

And with that Touka threw the girl outside of the café, making her land painfully on her sorry ass. She then turned to the ferrets friends.

“Yo, dumbasses! You are her friends aren’t you? Get out before I make you!”

The two girls seemed to be smarter than their friend was because they only flinched and scurried out silently.

“And don’t come back.”

Touka said decisively, slamming the door. There were a few seconds of silence before sudden loud cheering rang out. 

She turned around in surprise and smiled at what she saw. Everyone in the café was applauding her. The bunny looked towards Yoshimura, who was giving her a proud and satisfied smile. He nodded at her and indicated to Kaneki with his head and then to upstairs. Touka looked at Kaneki and saw that while his ears had moved back to their calm position, he was still ever so slightly shivering.

She nodded at her boss in thanks and moved slowly towards Kaneki, so as not to startle him. Carefully she took his hand. He flinched but didn't pull away.

"Come."

Kaneki only hesitated for a moment before letting himself be pulled along. Once in her room, Touka let go of the hares hand. The one-eyed ghouls fingers twitched, as if he wanted to reclaim her hand. She bit her lip to stop from smiling. This was still serious after all.

"How are you feeling?"

Kaneki looked up from their hands with wide eyes.

"I- I'm fine. Thank you for helping me, Kirishima-san."

“It’s no problem. To be honest that girl was making me angry anyways.”

Kaneki chuckled nervously.

“She was a bit rude, wasn’t she?”

Touka scoffed.

“A bit is an understatement. She was basically sexually harassing you! Anyone could have smelled her pheromones from a mile away.”

Kaneki looked down at that, but gave a slight nod of agreement. He was obviously still bothered by what happened and Touka had a feeling there was more to it too. With a carefully controlled tone, she decided to ask something she had been meaning to ask for a while now.

“Does this happen often? I mean I’ve seen people approach you before but never like that and you are shaking.”

The hare looked up, wide eyed and startled. His ears raised just a bit.

“No, no, no! While people have tried to curt me before they usually gave up pretty fast when I didn’t react like they wanted. The only one who was ever that bold before was…”

The white haired teen trailed off, but she did not need for him to finish. She had heard of how he became a ghoul and could imagine who the other person was. Her ears lowered a bit at the thought of the betrayal and fear Kaneki must have felt. He had been honestly interested in the women after all.

Would he ever be interested in her, too? The purple and white bunny had seen his reactions to her, had been observing closely for a while now. She had seen the curiosity and a certain amount of attraction, but would that be enough? As she watched Kaneki Ken, the one eyed ghoul, the meek hare with mismatched fur who could have anyone he wanted, she decided that the only way to ever truly know was to make a move.

Touka took a deep, audible breath. Kaneki focused on her in curiosity and watched with rapt attention as she began to move. She slowly started to circle the hare who’s eyes widened in surprise as he recognized the traditional courting behaviour of their kind. The female bunny paid close attention to the one she wanted to curt and felt relief wash over her as she saw his eyes shine and ears lie back slightly in submission. With the knowledge that she wasn’t being rejected she increased her speed a bit.

Then after a while of circling she moved close and gave a playful nip to the hares right ear. Kanekis ears stood up and he moved towards her. The chase was on. 

They proceed to spent the next half an hour chasing each other playfully through the small room. Always nipping the other gently to say ‘You’re it!’ and making sure to never start circling too close. They did not want conflict. No, they were enjoying their little game of tag, their dance, their courting way too much to let it become bitter. It was exhilarating. To finally be able to act how they were supposed to, to realize that they weren’t alone, that there was someone who understood them, someone who acknowledged their boundaries and didn’t overstep.

Touka's heart swelled as she looked over her shoulder at her partner. She could tell that he was letting go of his inhibitions. He was acting on instinct and happiness. Realizing this her tail gave an involuntary flick. A single grey eye widened at the flirty move and before Touka could react was she being pressed down to the floor. She gasped at the feeling of being mounted and nipped in the back of the neck.

It wasn’t sexual. If anything it was romantic. A small chatter of happiness escaped her as she realized the full meaning her partner wanted to convey. It was a sign of possessiveness, of protectiveness. The hold wasn’t forceful and the nip gentle. This was Ken (when had he become Ken in her mind?) saying: ‘You’re mine!’. This was a claim.

The black hare moved off her to lie beside her, allowing her to lie on her side and mirroring her position. Another move that such a clear sign of closeness that it nearly brought tears to her eyes. Deciding that it was her turn to return the favor, Touka made her own move. She raised her hands and softly began grooming Kens hair and ear. Grey eye widened and locked with calm purple.

With a honestly beautiful smile the male bunny scooted closer and moved his arms to wrap around her and started to groom her windswept tail in return. Both bunnies closed their eyes in bliss and purrs of joy filled the air.

They both knew that they had a lot to talk about, but for now the ghoul bunnies decided to let themselves be swept away by their instincts and pure joy at a successful start to courting.

FIN

[tybalt-tisk]

.A Gangster’s Wife

//

Shallura | Gangster Au

Rated T. | Dark elements.

[ao3]

This is for my friend @atlasallura . She’s my headcanon buddy on the discord server and we can go for hours talking about different scenarios. This is one of our favorites, so I decided to make a story and include some elements we tend to swoon over. Enjoy, bby. I’m also trying to get the Shallura tag active again. You guys need to come on. Don’t let our ship die because I sure as hell won’t. (I hope the “Read More” bar works.)

“Looking to have a good time, gorgeous?”

Allura doesn’t bother to look up from her drink to acknowledge the man that was bold enough to approach her, but she could tell by his tone that he reeked of unbridled arrogance. She picked up her martini glass and swirled its pink-tinted contents before she took a long sip, careful not to smudge her red lipstick on its rim. When she felt the man lean more into her space to talk over the live band, she finally allowed her blue eyes to shift to his so that she can size up her newfound company. The man had expensive taste. She could tell by the flashy jewelry and the designer clothes he wore that he was the type of man who liked to flaunt his wealth in a desperate attempt to get women to fall for the bait that is gilded gold.

Her eyes pierce his and her enchanting gaze only encourages his ego. She resists the urge to make a sour face as her senses are almost overwhelmed by the scent of his cheap cologne when he leaned in close to whisper into her ear. “Do you come here often?” His large hand grabs a hold of the back of her barstool and his body cages hers against the bar. It's a cheap tactic to make her feel small and vulnerable. She doesn’t so much as bat an eye before she takes another sip of her cosmo.

She can’t help the smirk that stretches across her lips at the man’s pathetic dedication to woo her. He must not know exactly who she is...or who she belongs to. Part of her pities his ignorance...and the other part of her wants to have some fun.

It’s been a while since she’s met such an ignorant fool.

She downs the rest of her drink before she fully turns towards him to answer his question. “You can say that,” she replies playfully as she toys with the stem of her empty glass and lets her perfectly manicured nails clink against the crystal. “However, I can’t say that I come here as often as I should.” She finishes her sentence with a bite of her lip and her eyes rake over the features she knows he’s most proud of. She knows her strategy is working when he pulls up a chair to sit next to her and orders her another cosmo. He may think he’s a good con artist, but she’s a fucking master.

She gives her thanks to the bartender when he gives her another cosmo just the way she likes it - with just a tad of elderflower liqueur and a lime twist that serves as a garnish. The man raises an eyebrow at the scene. “You must come here a lot if he knows exactly how you like your drinks.”

She laughs in a tone that she knows men swoon over. “Oh yes. Coran and I go way back.” The man behind the bar sends her a wink and continues to shake a martini for another customer. She closes her eyes in bliss as the bittersweet cocktail coats her tongue then slides down her throat, leaving a trail of liquid fire in its wake. She wants to savor the taste of her favorite poison, but the man is already asking her more questions.

“So you got a name, beautiful?” he asked her in a tone full of stolen confidence and it only makes Allura want to knock him down a few pegs.

She crossed her legs at the knee and rested her chin on the palm of her hand as she fiddled with the lime twist on the edge of her glass. “Of course,” she humored him with a twirl of her silver hair. “Everyone has a name. Let’s start with yours.” She sent him a flirty smile and a small giggle. Allura always did like to play with her food.

The man must have thought he struck gold because his hand started to wander to places it didn’t belong. Allura kept her face neutral and said nothing when his hand found purchase on her thigh. A sudden movement from her peripheral vision caused her to subtlely shake her head to ward off her guard dogs. She’s sure they’ve been on edge since the man first approached her and by now, they were looking for any reason to pounce on the unsuspecting man. She didn’t need them to fight her battles. She had everything under control.

“Derik Weber,” he introduced himself proudly with a boyish grin. Arrogantly, he waited for her to fawn over him.

Allura nodded her head, half-amused. “Ah, Derik Weber,” she said when she recognized the name. “The sole heir to Weber Incorporations.” She swirled her drink lightly in her hand and moved her foot to the beat of the music. This was one of her favorite songs and she couldn’t help that her body reacted to its pull. “It's nice to see that your father’s insider trading scandal didn’t affect your desire to pick up random women you meet at clubs.”

Derik let out a snooty laugh that barely hid his embarrassment. “We Webers are very resilient. At least I’m glad you heard of me, Miss…? He moved his hand further up her thigh as if to elicit a name from her lips.

“Allura,” she answered his unspoken question after a moment. Allura watched the man think her name over. She can see the exact thoughts course through his head because she knows that he knows that he’s heard her name before but can’t seem to pinpoint it.

Just when Allura thought the man had figured things out, his voice cuts over the music. “What a beautiful name for a beautiful woman.” His thumb is treading dangerous waters and the entire club feels it. The live band skips a few beats and regular patrons keep their distance from them afraid to get in the inevitable crossfire that was soon to come. “So Allura, riddle me this: What’s a beautiful woman like yourself doing all alone in a place like this?”

Allura scoffs. She was never alone. “I just needed some time to myself,” she says.

Derik fakes concern and she can see through the bullshit easily. “Oh, I hope I’m not intruding,” he says.

“Of course not.” The lie slips through her lips like fine silk and she sends him a well-rehearsed smile. “I love company. However, I very much doubt that my husband would appreciate all of the…” she pauses to look at the offending hand that’s still on her thigh, “attention you are showing me this evening.”

If Derik was surprised by her sudden revelation, he didn’t show it. “Husband, huh?” He gave her thigh a firm squeeze and if she had forgotten that she started this little game, then the glass in her hand would have suddenly become a deadly weapon. She only smiled and flashed him the ring on her slender finger. He eyed the ring and laughed before he continued, “He must not be the brightest man to let you out of the house looking the way you do.”

She knew exactly what she looked like tonight. Her short, black dress fit her like a second skin and her red heels only accentuated her long, toned legs. She’s dressed like a black widow but he was too stupid to see the warning signs. But he wouldn’t be the first to miss a crucial detail.

And he certainly wouldn’t be the last.

She didn’t like the way his eyes raked over her body and she certainly didn’t like the way his other hand joined the first one. “Careful, now,” she warned him cooly but didn't move away. “You don’t want to anger the wrong person in these parts.”

“Is that so?” came the casual reply as he leaned further into her space. “If you’re so worried about making your idiot of a husband upset, then where is he now, huh?”

“Right behind you.” Derik froze when a deep, cold voice spoke behind him, the tone alone sent a shiver up his spine and alerted every fight or flight instinct within him. Derik’s head whipped around and came face to face with a tall, well-built man with steel grey eyes and a scar over the bridge of his nose.

There was a dangerous stillness about the man that told Derik everything he needed to know. “You’re Takashi Shirogane!” His eyes darted between the charming woman before him and the notorious gangster. It was then that he finally made the connection. He turned to Allura, eyes full of fear. “Then that means you-you’re-”

“Allura Shirogane,” she finished his broken epiphany innocently with a wink and a flash her ring at him again. If he had taken the time to take a closer look, he would have noticed the mafia leader’s insignia on the band of it - a clear indication of exactly who he was talking to.

Exactly who he was still touching.

Immediately, he snatched his hands away from Allura. “I’m so s-sorry, Shiro!” he blurted out the frantic apology. “I didn’t know, I-I didn’t realize she was yours.”

Shiro eyed the man through narrowed eyes, then looked at his wife who only sipped at her cosmo casually. She looked away from him but he could see the corners of her lips upturned into a giddy smile. When his eyes snapped back to the terrified man. All too sudden, a smile was etched into his face. One that didn’t reach his eyes and was too stiff and was too forced. “It was an honest mistake.” His deep voice was devoid of emotion and it didn’t at all go with the smile forced on his lips. The image made Derik’s hands tremble. “Let’s just...be more careful next time, Derik.”

Derik let out a sigh of relief but that relief was short-lived when Shiro causally slipped an arm over his shoulder. He suddenly finds himself having a first-hand experience of just how unwelcomed it is to have someone invade his personal space. He doesn’t like it. He doesn’t like the closeness, he doesn’t like the contact and his blood runs cold at Shiro’s words. “And by ‘be careful’,” Shiro dropped his voice to barely above a whisper, “I mean that if I ever see you touch or even look at my wife again, I’ll make sure no one will be able to identify your body when I’m through with you.”

Shiro pulls back and gives him the same smile he gave to him before. “Is that understood?”

Derik doesn’t trust his voice, so he can only nod frantically.

“Good. Now leave.” He doesn’t even finish his sentence before Derik is out of the door.

“You always ruin my fun, Takashi,” Allura says with a fake pout. Coran laughs at her from behind the bar and he makes Shiro his usual; double shot of whiskey, neat.

Shiro gives his thanks to his faithful bartender before turns to his wife. “Your fun is going to get somebody killed one day, Princess,” he warns lightly and there is not a trace of hostility in his voice.

She shrugs in return. “It’s not like you have any time for me nowadays anyway. At least someone was giving me attention. You’re always working.” She has a distant look in her eyes and maybe it’s the liquor in her but Shiro knows that she feels neglected. If there was one thing he loved more than his job, it was his wife.

He puts his hand her chin to gently turn her gaze to him. “I’m not working now,” he says.

Her eyes dart away and she folds her arms over her chest. “You’re late to our date night.”

“I know and I’m sorry. I lost track of the time, but I’m here now.” He drinks his hard liquor easily before he takes her small hand in his and firmly pulls her off of the bar stool and into him. When she’s on her feet, he doesn’t let go of her hand and silently leads her to towards the dance floor. He makes eye contact with the lead musician on stage and suddenly the jazz club is filled with a familiar tune.

He brings her closer to him, placing his metal hand on her back just under her shoulder and raises their conjoined hands in the air at the same height as their faces. She knows this position all too well and matches his stance and places her hand on his broad shoulder. He shoots her a smile. A real smile. One that only she and a few carefully selected close friends have the fortune of seeing. His smile is her favorite sight and immediately her irritation of his lateness is washed away.

Allura closes her eyes at the rhythmic tune. She lets it fill her and when the beat is just right, she begins. Her eyes are filled with forgiveness and delight when opens them. She takes a step back with her right foot and Shiro follows her lead with his left forward. Allura was the fire in his furnace and although she was slightly inebriated, she was still an excellent dancer. With a sway of her hips, she takes a step forward, pushing him back into their original positions. Quickly, Shiro takes a step back and she follows suit and a dance is born.

She had been the one to teach him the mambo. Even though he had always been a quick learner - with a gun, a knife, with his bare hands; flesh or metal, the mambo was probably the most challenging skill he had to learn. But she was ever so patient with him. Now he’s a pro. He’s able to lead her and she’ll follow and keep up with every step he takes, perfectly mirroring him at every turn.

He lets go of her back and she swings out with a flare of her hand and smoothly returns to his grip. Without his feet missing a beat, he speaks, “I really am sorry, you know.” He squeezes her hand to signal her to give him a twirl and twirl she does. She returns to him with her back to his chest and their feet don’t stumble once as they adapt effortlessly into their new position.

“I know, Takashi.” She uses her free hand to caress his freshly shaven face. “I don’t know why, but I thought you wouldn’t make it. I thought you had forgotten about our date night.” She sounds sadden that the thought even occurred to her. Her husband was a man of his word no matter what.

Shiro laughs as he grabs ahold of her hips and uses his leverage to turn her in his arms. They are back in their original positions and Shiro takes a step forward and she matches it perfectly. “Forget our date night?” he repeats playfully. “How could I forget date night with the love of my life? The apple of my eye. The fire to my ice. My beautiful wife. I would never forget about you.” He speaks the truth and it hits Allura right in the soul.

The beat changes suddenly and he takes the opportunity to drop his metal hand to the small of her back and her eyes light up with joy at what’s to come. She’s ready when he dips her low and she lets out a giggle when his lips kiss her neck. “Besides,” he says with a smirk as he pulls her back up to face him, “you know Papa loves mambo.”

Is a Mafia Au something you guys want more of? If so, let me know. 

[deanscarlett]

Living Conditions

For Mimi’s RomCom Fluff challenge @deansdirtylittlesecretsblog , and Andi’s “Back in the Game” writing challenge @ellen-reincarnated1967 .

Author: Salvachester

Prompts: #29 from Failure to Launch (Mimi’s) and #21 (Andi’s) 

Characters: Dean, Reader, Sam (small appearance)

Pairing: Dean x Female Reader

Warnings: Language, sexual situations (not very explicit), alcohol use, hardcore pining, mentions of masturbation, misunderstandings, awkward situations, angsty situations (plot device), fluff, humor.

Word Count: 6040 words

A/N: Thanks to my lovely gals Kayte @kayteonline and Sammit @sammit-janet for betaing it. The prompts appear in bold (in order of appearance, Andi’s, then Mimi’s). This is my first fic after all the Vancon madness began (like, May?), it took me a while to get my muse back in the game, but it’s finally here. Hope you enjoy it as much as I enjoyed writing it. <3

Dean Gif credit: thejabberwock - Smallville Gif credit: haleyjames

Lots of people tagged under the cut :D (you can add/remove yourself from the list here)

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Friendship is never easy. Especially when your friend is the bravest, most handsome and loyal man you’ve ever met, and you happen to live under the same roof.

Being a hunter is no walk in the park, everybody knows that, but some people can handle it better than others. Take Y/N Y/L/N, for instance; girl grew up in the life, always felt normal with being a hunter. Never formed meaningful attachments, a hook-up here and there, and she was ready to roll out of town looking for the next job.

That is, until she met the Winchesters. Or rather, until she met Dean.

Y/N wasn’t a fan of sharing a job with other hunters, she considered herself a solo player. If she fucked up, it was her own fault and she could deal with it and learn her lesson. But if someone else fucked up… Oh boy, be ready to run because she could get nasty.

Now, the hunt she and the boys ran into each other was a simple salt and burn; no hiccups there. Sure, Dean had thrown a few flirty glances her way, but she merely brushed them off. Another rule of hunting… don’t get involved with a fellow hunter, even if it’s just a fuck to let off some steam. You never know when you might run into them again and have an awkward moment.

Of course, she would be lying through her teeth if she told you she didn’t consider the possibility of having one wild night with the eldest Winchester; because DAMN, that man was built for sin. And given her selection of men… Yeah, Dean definitely fit the profile down to the letter.

The next hunt she ran into them was a little more complicated: vampires’ nest with at least ten fanged motherfuckers keeping people as some sort of morbid pantry. Now, there were a couple of fuckups here and there, but it wasn’t anyone’s fault, really. Y/N got kinda pissy at Dean for setting himself as bait and almost getting himself killed, but she didn’t make a big deal out of it. The hunt ended in success, and that’s what really mattered.

Now Dean, she noticed, had been shamelessly eyeing her at the bar while the three were having a small celebration for a job well done; and same as last time, she ignored him. Y/N ended up sleeping with some biker that was the spitting image of Zack Wylde. Couldn’t say no to that, could she? Of course, she would later on regret the choice ‘cause the dude was one selfish dick that didn’t bother giving her one proper orgasm. Asshole.

And, of course, Dean ended up taking that tall, busty blonde back to his room. Now that one definitely had a night she would never forget, if her moans and screams coming from his room were any indication.

Oh well, better luck next time, Y/N.

After that, the Winchesters and her kept in touch, mostly to exchange info, or to drop some line about some job close to either party; and eventually they started working together. As their friendship progressed, she couldn’t help feeling curious about Dean. Watching him pick up women using terrible lines and see it work like a charm was like watching some documentary about wildlife mating in the Discovery Channel; disturbing, entertaining, and highly addictive. Sure as hell he had charm. And looks, let’s not forget those looks.

But even when Dean kept making merry sport out of banging every hottie in a five-mile radius, he would, from time to time, send some flirty comment her way.

Whether he was serious or merely jesting, Y/N couldn’t tell; but a part of her kept having all these what-ifs popping in her brain and wouldn’t leave her the fuck alone. She wasted no time burying those musings deep, deep down where she kept all her dark secrets and dreams.

Remember when I told you a hunter’s life is no walk in the park? Well, here’s where things get complicated…

You see, when you’re a hunter and you don’t move around, like ever -or don't live in a safe, warded bunker, like the Winchesters- monsters definitely find you. Yeah, yeah, she should have known better, trust me, she knows that, but the little cabin she lived at was her family’s, so it held a whole lot of sentimental value.

Homeless and heartbroken at the loss of her home and possessions after the arson, Y/N couldn’t refuse Sam and Dean’s offer to move in with them. Af first, it was supposed to be temporary until she found a place of her own. But as we know, things don’t always turn out the way we expect or want…

“You know, I think I’m definitely gonna borrow one of these, or all,” Dean inspects her vinyl collection, an amused smile on his face ‘cause he knows she’s gonna tell him to go fuck himself, or some other colorful insult. She doesn’t mean it, of course, it’s just the way they interact and joke around.

“You do that and you lose your hands, or your dick,” Y/N retorts with a glare that is so fake you have to wonder how the hell she pulls off all the lies she has to say in the name of hunting.

Dean instantly leaves the record, Rolling Stones’ Sticky Fingers -yes, there’s some irony there, I know- back where it belongs, and raises his hands in mock surrender. “Ouch, no need to get nasty, sweetheart.” He can’t stop grinning when he sees her loosen up and burst into laughter.

It’s weird for him to have a girl living in the bunker. It’s nice for sure, because in an attempt to earn her keep, she always cooks for them, or helps with the chores without a peep. Not that he wants Y/N to be their maid, oh no, that is not what this is about; he just loves having homey, succulent and yummy meals on a daily basis. In a way, it makes him feel taken care of, and he could definitely get used to that.

And of course, what’s the downside of having a hot chick rooming up with you?

Well, as you can guess, the downside is she doesn’t seem to want anything to do with him, and Dean is starting to figure that out. Which it sucks, really, because he’s already having lusty thoughts, and harboring one hell of a massive crush on her -courtesy of her caretaking and cooking skills- and there’s no turning back. So he does what he does best; he puts on the proverbial mask and acts as if there’s nothing going on.

Seriously, Dean, could you be more obvious? Dude, if you keep tilting your head like that and stare at her like she’s the biggest, yummiest piece of pie, she’s gonna fucking notice and run off in the opposite direction. Calm down, please.

The first few months go by without any trouble; if you don’t count Dean having to see Y/N’s underwear in the laundry room. It piques his curiosity and has his brain running all sorts of imagery, but it doesn’t go beyond that. Okay, maybe a quick release in the shower from time to time.

He definitely enjoys her company, even more when they are side by side in the couch binge watching all six Star Wars, the Lord of the Rings trilogy, or Die Hard I and II. The fact that she mouths a great deal of the dialogues makes Dean’s attraction grow stronger and stronger.

Now, the tough moments are when either of them need stitches or patching up, and having to touch her skin -or the other way round- has his mind reeling with another kind of want. It’s just so nice having someone taking care of you that you can’t help wanting more. And Dean definitely wants more. But what’s he gonna do? As far as he is concerned, the girl’s not interested, so he settles with just musing.

Sigh, Dean, if only you knew Y/N, deep down, has the same train of thoughts. Hang in there, kitten, it’s almost Friday.

So far, Y/N is hiding her itty bitty crush rather well. Dean, on the other hand, is not doing so hot.

I mean, Dean is doing his best to keep it a harmless crush. At least, that’s what he keeps telling himself. But, when you’re fucking that waitress -Rachel? Raquel? I don’t even know- into the mattress and you call out the name of your ‘harmless crush’, you definitely gotta reconsider the label. And run like the fucking devil before that flying, pointy heel impales your occipital lobe.

Neither Sam, nor Y/N know the actual truth about that fiasco. As far as they know, that chick was all kinds of crazy.

Very classy, Dean, let’s blame the waitress on your fuckup.

Y/N, on the other hand, keeps her normal pattern of sleeping with bikers and metalheads. Of course, nobody knows she’s doing it to keep Mr Sexy-As-Fuck Winchester out of her mind. Which works. Kinda.

I mean, how much more of this can you stand when each hook up feels shittier and shittier and all you really want is to hold on to someone -cough, Dean, cough- and never let go? Girl, open your fucking eyes already and admit you want him!

But nope, she refuses to admit it. What’s the point? Getting all hyped up and shot down? No fucking thank you.

If you think this is the cusp of all this complication, you’re in for a rude awakening.

Enter the truly awkward and embarrassing situations.

Everybody in the circle knows that Garth is not the sharpest tool in the shed, for sure he’s cool and all, but the guy can turn a simple hunt into a clusterfuck, so when he calls for help, nobody is really surprised.

After sorting out who’s gonna come to his aid -yes, you guessed right, rock papers scissors; how else were they gonna decide?- Sam heads out to New Jersey to help the hapless hunter; leaving Dean and Y/N to deal with a job in Louisiana.

Y/N is not a big fan of Sam borrowing her car, but she has no choice. Have you met Dean? Yeah, try and pry Baby out of his hands. Go ahead, try.

So this leaves Dean and Y/N working alone. Oh boy, this should be interesting…

The drive to Louisiana is smooth, they mostly discuss the case and their theories about what monsters they’ll be encountering; all very professional. Too professional if you ask me; it’s like they are trying to avoid loosening up and truly enjoy each other’s company.

To Dean’s dismay, Y/N gets a room for herself. Yeah, what were you expecting, dude? But look at the bright side, you can get off at your own leisure.

Every hunter knows dealing with ghouls can be fucking disgusting, believe me, so when they are done with them, Y/N is covered in various icky fluids and she just can’t wait to get a shower and go back to smelling like a daisy. It’s all nice and dandy, except for the pipes breaking on her, getting her all covered in muddy water. Yuck.

As the cunning little hunter she is, she lockpicks Dean’s room to use his shower while he’s out crossing some t’s and dotting some i’s with the local authorities. He should be away for a good while, right?

Guess again, my friend…

So as she’s done showering and about to put on her clothes, she doesn’t hear Dean opening the front door.

Dean, cautious as he is, draws his gun the moment he hears noises in his bathroom and storms in.

Now, let me tell you something about Y/N; the woman can see a three-headed monster and she’s not gonna make a noise; but a gorgeous hunter pointing a gun at her naked self? Oh yeah, expect yelling and screams. Not right away, just give her brain some time to react.

If you pay attention, you can actually hear Dean’s jaw hit the floor; opposite to him, Y/N is frozen in place, stark nude and holding her hairbrush like a deadly weapon aimed at him. It’s almost adorable.

While Dean is trying to keep his cool and not make an idiot out of himself -because let’s face it, his dick is screaming at him and wants to take charge of all the thinking- Y/N’s brain is just catching up with the situation.

“What are you doing he-”

Dean doesn’t get to finish his question because Y/N is screaming and yelling and hurling a variety of non-lethal objects at him. The endless string of ‘get out’s’ can surely be heard in the next town.

See? I told you she would scream.

As Dean runs out of the bathroom, ducking the projectiles, he closes the door and sits on his bed in a futile attempt to calm his brain and his happy dick. He can still hear her huffing and grunting in anger and frustration.

He just saw Y/N totally and utterly naked. Definitely one hell of a glorious view. Yup, that’s gonna get a top place in the shelf of his memories. Half an hour passes and she isn’t out yet; he doesn’t worry though because he knows she’s embarrassed and bracing herself to face him.

When she finally emerges, Dean’s blood freezes at the murderous look she throws his way.

“Why are you glaring at me?” He asks as if nothing’s just happened. Oh Dean, either you are too adorable, or one provocative little shit. I’ll wager both.

“I’m hoping you’ll spontaneously combust.”

Uh oh, run, Dean, run!

“Why?”

Really, Dean? You gonna poke that bear? Do you wanna put your head in a hornet's hive while we are at it?

“Why? Are you seriously asking me WHY?! You’ve just barged in while I was in the bathroom, don’t you ever knock?”

Now now, Y/N, don’t act so offended, we all know it didn’t really bother you that Dean saw you in your birthday suit. And do I need to remind you whose room it is?

Dean’s little happy moment is blown away by her words and instantly stands his ground. “I should ask you the same question, sweetheart, given this is my room. Now, calm down.”

Seriously, dude, stop poking the bear. Calling her ‘sweetheart’ and telling her to calm down right this moment is not gonna do you any good.

“You just saw me naked, I don’t care if it’s your room. You just. Saw me. Naked. I cannot fucking calm down!”

Yes, Y/N, keep spelling it out for him, it’s not like Dean’s brain is back to putting that scene on repeat. Oh wait, it is.

“How the fuck was I to know you were in my bathroom?” He’s right, nobody can argue with that.

So now that her anger is fading and she’s finally realizing he’s right, Y/N explains the incident with her shower, tucks her tail between her legs and returns to her room to pack.

Thank god the hunt is done; a few more hours and she’ll be able to hide in her room until hell freezes over.

It doesn’t take a genius to figure out the ride back home is quiet, save for the loud music playing non stop, and, you can imagine, they avoid any sort of eye contact as much as they can.

Awkward...

Sam frowns in confusion when Y/N runs past him in the library barely uttering a ‘hello’ to him; and as soon as he hears her door slam shut, he faces Dean, who merely shrugs at his brother’s silent question.

It takes a couple of days before Y/N spills the beans about the bathroom incident; and Sam can’t stop laughing when she starts calling Dean a peeping tom.

Now that we are on the subject of Sam, let me tell you that he has no fucking clue about Y/N’s ever growing crush on his brother; but Sam is very much aware of Dean’s, but since his big brother never mentioned anything, he’s just gonna mind his own business and let him be. Dean is a grown man, he doesn’t need -or want- relationship advice. If Dean asks, Sam will gladly help.

Going back to the bathroom incident, Y/N was so frozen in that moment that she didn’t register the glint in Dean’s eyes nor his growing bulge, for that matter. As far as she knows, Dean was unaffected by her naked body, and that surely stings.

Oh, honey, if only you knew how wrong you are… You can bet your ass Dean spends several minutes in the shower reliving that moment.

After this debacle, their relationship shifts a little and they don’t tease each other as much as they used to; they both feel it, and it fucking sucks.

Y/N reached the point where she admitted it to herself how she feels about Dean. Fucking finally, girl! But she’s still under the wrong assumption that Dean is not interested in her; and about a month ago, she decided to not hook up with random guys anymore.

It’s just so taxing to sleep with below average men when your mind, heart and body only want that one perfect specimen. As they say, better alone than in bad company. But of course the lack of release and human contact is making her cranky. Lately, she snaps at him over the littlest things.

Dean also dropped his number of conquests, but for an entire different reason. How many times are you gonna say the wrong name in bed before realizing you've got a problem? I’m sure that knee in the jewels was a fucking sign.

Now, before we get to the next part, let me tell you that Sam has the best timing ever -or worst, depending on how you see it- for random hookups that take him five states away. Or maybe he’s just so damn tired of the cold vibes and petty arguments between Y/N and his brother that he makes up the lamest excuses to get out of dodge.

Seeing as Sam is gone -nobody knows for how long- and that it leaves her alone with Dean, Y/N decides one more try in the hookup department, so she heads for the nearest bar she can find.

Dean, on the other hand, stays in and hits the bottle because what else there is to do? His crush on Y/N evolved into something much stronger and he already lost any hope. And the fact she’s out there getting laid with some douchebag does nothing but add shit to the pile of misery.

Yeah, it breaks your heart to see him so hopeless. Poor Dean.

But here’s what Dean doesn’t know: Y/N’s plan is failing miserably, not for the lack of candidates, but because she shoots down every single one of them, even the good ones. Instead, she hits the bottle as well, and fuels her own pity party.

Much like Dean, she feels nothing’s ever gonna happen between them, and it hurts to her very soul. Just because she never had a meaningful relationship doesn’t mean she was never in love. She was, twice, but never really took a chance. But with Dean, she was ready to take that plunge, if only he ever shown some interest in her other than platonic.

Yes, she remembers Dean flirting with her in the early days, but as far as she’s concerned, that was Dean just being Dean: a playful guy that loves getting in every girl’s pants.

She finally gives up at the bar and drives home. Reckless as fuck, if you ask me, seeing that she’s kinda drunk, but she makes it home safely, thank god.

As we know, alcohol drops inhibitions and filters, so it’s no surprise that Dean, who is also half drunk, makes a not-so-tactful remark about Y/N striking out at the bar. Part of his brain realizes it and sends the necessary warnings, so Dean is ready and expecting to be clocked in the jaw when he sees her lunging at him; and in all honesty, he reckons he deserves it, so he closes his eyes and waits for the shit to hit the fan.

Instead of feeling her fist collide into his jaw, he feels her lips ravaging his own.

Oh my… Yeah, he definitely didn’t expect that.

He doesn’t question her -why would he?!- he just rolls with it and enjoys the moment.

Now, before you start worrying about alcohol and sex, they aren’t as drunk as to not realize what’s going on, they are very much aware, trust me. Besides, you know how much they’ve been pining after each other.

So, back to the moment at hand… They waste no time tearing each other’s clothes and bumping into walls on their way to his bedroom. Dean is on cloud nine and completely ignoring that nagging feeling in his gut that tells him this is just another hookup for her. And, as you can guess, Y/N is thinking the same.

Guys, you really are two peas in a pod. It’s getting frustrating.

As you might recall -how could you not- Dean’s already seen her naked, so there’s nothing new, except that now he can touch; and, oh boy, does he touch.

Now, Y/N, on the other hand, is seeing him for the first time, and oh god almighty, does she like what she sees. Far back in her mind, her brain makes a small Star Wars reference -‘Look at the size of that thing’- the moment she sees his dick.

If she wasn’t so caught up in the moment, she’d probably giggle at her own silly joke.

Every fantasy she ever had about Dean doesn’t do any justice to the real thing; it’s not just that he’s well endowed and with a body that is borderline perfect, or that she’s spent months idealizing him. No, he actually is that good; and attentive and thorough. She’s honestly mind blown when he makes her come just with his fingers and tongue. Like, the guy is so busy eating her out that Y/N has no doubt he’s seriously enjoying it.

I don’t think she can name one guy who made her come like this, or made it all about her.

Which brings us to the next moment…

In the afterglow of her own bliss, she attempts to return the favor, but Dean cuts her short, mumbling something about not being able to last and wanting to be inside.

Wow… Did he seriously just turn down a blowjob so he could come inside of her and not disappoint her? Is he for real? Is it the same with every other girl? Where has he been all her life?

Okay, enough with the questions, Y/N, get your mind back in that bed.

The act itself can only be described as intense; for the most part, they were quiet in the sense of barely no talking, but yes, you can bet they were very loud.

Whether for the exertion, the alcohol, or finally getting into each other’s pants -probably all three- they fall asleep rather fast. In addition, there’s that bliss that fills the both of them; but that one is short-lived.

You see, when Y/N wakes up, long before Dean does, she feels this sense of regret. Not because she’s changing her mind about wanting to sleep with him, but because this one shared moment changes her whole perspective. More than ever, she realizes how much she loves Dean and how much she wants to be with him for as long as they live. But here’s the thing: she still believes this is just another meaningless encounter for him. She over-analyzes the situation and reaches the conclusion he was probably just bored. Which, as you know, it’s not the case.

But she doesn’t know that, nor she remembers the sweet kisses Dean kept giving her all night -blame the alcohol, of course- so the first thing she does is sneak out of his bed.

When Dean wakes up, foggy minded and ready to spoon the fuck out of her, and sees she’s gone, he feels this tight knot in his chest that prompts his brain to shout ‘I told you to not get close, you idiot’ over and over again.

Painful, eh?

Well, it gets worse, let me tell you; because when they run into each other in the kitchen, and Dean is slightly considering bringing up the subject and try to figure her out and hint his interest in her -because that one tiny part of him is still hopeful there’s something more between them- she blows his world to kingdom come.

“Listen, that was fun and all, but let’s not do that again. We are good friends, let’s not ruin it, okay?”

If you listen closely, you can hear his heart breaking. Talk about a surgical, preemptive strike.

You gotta hand it to Y/N, though, she has mastered the Dean Winchester playbook down to the letter; because that’s exactly the type of move he does when he’s into a girl and he doesn’t wanna get hurt. Hurt ‘em before they hurt you.

Of course, for all his brilliance and genius, it’s in moments like this when his brain stops cooperating. Instead of analyzing the situation and look for telltale signs that she’s lying -and believe me, the signs are there and glowing like a fucking neon sign on a strip club- he takes her statement at face value and agrees.

In his own misery, he doesn’t notice the pain in her eyes.

After that, everything goes downhill.

Y/N decides it’s time to go, so she finds a new cabin and moves out a month after sleeping with Dean.

In case you are wondering, Sam has no clue that they slept together, so it takes him by surprise when she drops the news. Of course, one look at his brooding brother cues him that something must have happened.

At first, Dean beats around the bushes, making up excuses about missing her food -which is true, but not the main reason why he looks like someone shot his puppy. Sam, of course, doesn’t buy it, so he brings up Dean’s crush.

To Sam’s surprise, Dean doesn’t even bother lying about it, and eventually clues him in about that one fateful night.

“I’m so sorry, Dean,” Sam offers. He certainly would like to help more, but what else can he say? He’s not gonna go around playing Cupid to a pair of grownups. It would not only be weird, but also disrespectful of her choices, so if Y/N isn’t into his brother, there’s nothing he can do.

Damn it, Sam, you are as blind as your brother.

Meanwhile, in a little cabin in Montana, Y/N does her own share of brooding. She loads herself with cases to keep her mind off Dean; she goes out of her way to make sure to not run into them while on a job.

Of course, Sam calls and texts her from time to time, and it’s the single-word replies that make him wonder if they both were mistaken about her not wanting Dean. Why else would she part ways like that, right? But no matter how many times Sam explains it to him, Dean thinks his brother is reaching and seeing things that aren’t there.

You should listen to your brother, Dean.

Now, Y/N is reaching that point where anger and pain are ruling over her; she kicks herself for falling for him, she blames herself for being so damn weak. She works, she listens to power ballads until her ears bleed, she drinks, she cries herself to sleep. Rinse and repeat times infinity. Yeah… she’s doing awesome.

The woman literally became a ticking time bomb, every tiny little thing sets her off. So you can imagine her reaction when she runs into the brothers while working a case in Dallas.

Dean is taken aback, but he acts like nothing is happening. Bullshit, all his feelings are overwhelming him and feels like he’s dying inside.

Back in her motel room, Y/N is spiraling out of control, she hurls stuff all over the place. Yes, you guessed right, she’s had a few whiskeys so she’s not exactly thinking clearly. Which is why she storms out of her room to find Dean and tell him a piece of her mind.

I don’t know about you, but I’m honestly scared for him.

Dean frowns in confusion and draws his gun when the incessant pounding on the door starts. When he sees her through the peephole, he is both relieved and sad. Placing his gun back in its holster, he opens the door and readies himself to face Hurricane Y/N.

Like, she’s in such a furious state that she doesn’t even let Dean ask her to come in, she just storms in past him and takes the stage.

“You are an asshole, you know?”

Well, here we go…

“You are a fucking asshole,” she repeats, all red eyed and shaking.

Dean doesn’t like her tone one bit. “Excuse me? What the fuck is your problem, Y/N?”

“You! You are my problem, you ruined my life! You destroyed it, you jackass!” She’s pointing her finger at him and you almost gotta wonder if she’s gonna shoot some death ray from it. That’s how mad she is.

“Me? What did I ever do to you?” Poor Dean, he is so damn confused.

“Showing up in my life, for starters! I was fine being alone... being on my own, and then you show up. I lose my home, and I don’t have anywhere to go, and you guys take me in, and everything was so perfect and nice and then I lost it all!”

Dean has to blink several times, because he can’t possibly understand what she’s getting at with all that verbal diarrhea.

“And believe me, I did not want that because I had a good life before you. Well, not good… but… it was okay. Well, it… it was empty, actually, but at least I was blissfully unaware of how miserable I was. Whereas now… because of you… I am acutely aware of how completely and totally unhappy I am. Thank you for that.”

Dean tries to interject a word, but Y/N raises her index finger, glaring at him. “I’m not done venting!”

Yup, we can tell, honey. Go on, let it all out.

“I can’t even get properly laid, thanks to you!”

Now Dean’s confusion and anger matches her own. “Me? Why the fuck are you blaming me?! You are crazy!”

“Why? I’ll tell you why,” Y/N’s hands go to her hips, she drops her tone several registers, and starts impersonating Dean.

Yup, you heard that right.

“Hi, I’m Dean Winchester, I’m the most badass, sexiest motherfucker in town. I can be the sweetest asshole you’ve ever met. I’m gonna blind you with my perfect smile, my penetrating eyes and my perfect body, I’m gonna rock your world, be the best sex you’ve ever had to the point of ruining you for all other men. I’m gonna make you fall for me and then break your heart and move on to the next bitch in no time, ‘cause I'm that awesome.”

If it wasn't for the extreme hurt in her eyes, I’d probably be rolling on the floor, laughing.

Dean is offended at the impersonation, he’s so fucking furious that it takes him several seconds to register the ‘fall for’ and ‘break your heart’ parts; and when he finally does register it, he starts laughing.

Yes, he’s actually laughing, full-body-shaking kind of laughter. And as you can guess, Y/N is about to go postal on him, she doesn’t realize he is laughing not to mock her, but because he’s relieved.

Before she has a chance to lunge at him, he starts connecting the dots out loud. “Are you telling me, all this time, you actually were into me? But you told me you didn’t want anything to happen between us?” Okay, Dean, hurry the fuck up before she hurts you.

“Yes! But why bother telling you, Mr Love ‘Em and Leave ‘Em? I had to make my move first, before you had a chance to ditch me.” She’s sobbing so badly you can’t help feeling sorry for her. “You ruined me, Dean.”

Seeing as she’s obviously gonna keep ranting, and not gonna let him get a word in, Dean does what he must to shut her up, and hopefully, calm her down too.

He pulls her into his arms and kisses her. Desperately and passionately. And it works, because when Y/N calms down a bit, she breaks the kiss with a loud gasp and stares questioningly into his gorgeous eyes; and Dean can finally speak.

“You had it all wrong, Y/NN, we had it all wrong. I’ve been crazy about you for a while, but figured you only wanted to be friends, so I didn’t say anything, and then that happened, and well, you made your intentions pretty clear.”

Remember when Y/N was frozen in the bathroom? Well, it’s the exact same situation, except she’s not naked at the moment. She stands there, thinking, until she bursts into hysterical laughter.

Peas in a pod, definitely.

“All this time I was fucking suffering in vain?” She keeps laughing, but now she’s throwing her arms around Dean’s waist. “And you were suffering too?”

Dean offers a smile in return; and she starts laughing even harder. “We are fucking idiots!”

Yes, guys, you fucking are.

And now Dean is laughing too, but soon he dives back in and kisses her again. This time is more deliberate, they take their time, they smile into the kiss. It’s all very cute and sweet until everything else kicks in and, as you can guess, they start peeling each other’s clothes and getting in bed.

This time, Dean takes all the time in the world and teases her; and she totally loves it. He’s so dedicated, so thorough, so sweet, so… perfect. She loves that he takes mental notes of what makes her tick, she loves that he makes her his priority. She simply loves him.

Dean is equally happy and making sure she gets the most pleasure out of it; he loves exploring her body, he loves her moans, he loves everything about her, even her temper tantrums.

He’s definitely a keeper, that one.

Happy and blissful, they lie in each other’s arms; neither can still believe this is actually, properly, happening.

I gotta tell you, it totally makes your heart swell the way Dean smiles as he watches her talk. Boy has some serious heart eyes going on there.

And if you thought the awkward situations ended… Wrong again; because as they are about to start round two…

Three, two, one, enter Sam.

“Oh, come on, guys! You could at least put the damn ‘Do Not Disturb’ sign on the door!”

You gotta wonder how many times he walked in on his brother and some girl in their motel room. Too many, probably.

Despite his annoyance at the lack of warning, he smiles to himself as he leaves and sends a quick text for Dean to read later.

See? I told you! I’m glad you guys worked it out.

It’s been two months since that afternoon, and Dean is back to having his daily succulent meals. Everything is back to normal, everything is the way it was before their fallout. Well, not everything is the same…

Now Y/N has moved into his bedroom and neither feels miserable anymore.

Being a hunter is no walk in the park, everybody knows that, but having the right person in your life can definitely make things easier and brighter in a world full of darkness.

Tags list (if you wanna be added/removed, check the link after Dean’s gif): 

 @adammcquaidschesthair @aingealcethlenn

@akshi8278 @allinhishands @aprofoundbondwithdean @audaciousdean @awhiskeywithawinchester @bringmesomepie56 @buffyandangelforever @but-deans-back-tho @callmesweetheartifyoumeanit @canadianspnhunter @deandoesthingstome @deansdirtylittlesecretsblog @deansgoddess @deanwinchsterr @dorky-and-i-know-it @ellen-reincarnated1967 @emilywritesaboutdean @eyes-of-a-disney-princess @faith-in-dean @for-the-love-of-dean @hidingfrommychildren @highonpastries @icantfindacoolname @jacklesonmymind @jensennjared @jessica-bones-winchester @jinkieswouldyoulookatthis @katnharper @kayteonline @keepcalmandcarryondean @latinenglishfandomblog @leatherwhiskeycoffeeplaid @littlegreenplasticsoldier @mamapeterson @manawhaat (ARGH, WHY TUMBLR, WHY?!) @maradyeries @milkymilky-cocopuff @misswhizzy @mogaruke @mrsjohnsmith @mrswhozeewhatsis @myfand0msandm0re @nichelle-my-belle @ohfora67impala @oriona75 @rizlow1 @ruprecht0420 @saenalife @saucynewf @sis-tafics @sleep-silent-angel @sleepywinchester @smoothdogsgirl @spn-idjits-guide-to-hunting @spnashley @spnjensenlove02 @squirrelchester @supernatural-jackles @the-mrs-dean-winchester @thing-you-do-with-that-thing @walkingencyclopediaoffandom @whatdoyouthinkmyjobis @whispersandwhiskerburn @winchester-writes @winchesterenthusiast @winchestersandwordprocessors @winchestersinthedrift @winchestersnco @xtina2191 @zanthiasplace

[anna-omens13]

Gotham: Valeyne/Batjokes Halloween

Valeyne/Batjokes Halloween Fanfic Jerome Valeska X Bruce Wayne

Summary: "Jerome Valeska finds himself out of the confines of Arkham Asylum to discover he's been kidnapped by an obsessed fangirl and he has to team up with an "old friend" in order to escape her monstrous henchmen on Halloween night in Gotham City."

It’s a late Halloween story and the first fanfic I’ve ever posted on Tumblr!! Notes to some of the references used in the story can be found in the DA artist comment section here: https://anna-autobot12.deviantart.com/art/Gotham-Valeyne-Halloween-Epilogue-713478362

Hope you guys enjoy!! <3

This… isn’t Arkham. Even with closed eyes anyone can tell this isn’t Arkham. It’s the atmosphere; just the feeling alone gives it all away. The sound, the smell, even the taste backed that thought up. It’s not cold or damp, it’s not giving off that sour taste the grim and gloomy asylum tends to consistently have, and it smells far to clean. And if that’s not enough, there’s no screaming, no crying, and definitely no laughing. Nope, this is so not Arkham.

“Uuuugh… Damn headache…” A gravelly voice says from the darkness; consciousness slowly began to return to its owner and surroundings started to come into focus. Jerome Valeska, Gotham’s most chaotic criminal, moved in stiff motions; lifting his head away from his chest to hold it up on his own as his strength slowly came back. He stretched his muscles and tightened his eyes to relieve the tiredness from his body. “Woo, must’ve been some party last night for me to black out without a clue.” The redhead let out a weak chuckle. “Uh, probably slipped us some extra happy pills or something…” Finally, eyes opened, Jerome was greeted by the sight of his new surroundings as well as a new set of dapper looking clothes. Instead of his black and white stripped prison uniform, he was now dressed in a dark purple suit, a black dress shirt, a dark green vest, a neon green tie, and black gloves. He also noticed thick ropes that tied his wrists and around his chest to the arms and back of a wooden chair he was seated on in the center of the room. Confusion overtook his expression as he scanned every direction of his new environment. The room was pretty rundown but fairly spacious; judging by the lack of care and the amount of dust that was present, it might very well be a living room in an abandoned apartment complex. Cracks, mold, and even damaged but still hanging picture frames littered and tainted the once coral colored walls. Two couches, one to Jerome’s right and one in front of him, sat on the rickety floor accompanied by boxes, a few old TVs, speakers, a boom box, and other random objects; probably stolen. Behind the right couch hung a pair of dusty brown and tan curtains covering up shattered, boarded up windows. A lamp lit up the room to the left of the couch in front of him and to really bring the room together, painted on the wall above it was the smiling face Jerome’s followers immortalized his image with. “Hm… Decent decorating…” He commented. “Glad you think so.” A voice replied from behind him, laced with flattery. Jerome did his best to turn his head in the direction the voice had come from, as straining as it may have felt to his neck, he managed to spot three figures standing behind him in a wide doorway to the left of the room. A blonde teenage girl wearing pigtails, bright lipstick, and smothered black eye shadow stood between two giant henchmen. They looked both sharp and out of place in their black suits and ties with messily painted red lips and black eye sockets. The girl was clothed from head to toe in pink and black: Her pigtails were tied with pink ribbons, she wore a black cropped tank top with the word “smile” written in pink, a pair of black shorts held up by a pink belt, black and pink striped tights and long gloves to match, and a pair of black knee-high converses to complete the look. With a smile on her face and a confident sway to her hips, the girl walked over to Jerome with her goons following behind her. “I picked it out special for you.” Her hand reached out to drag underneath Jerome’s chin in a flirty manner, causing him to smirk dangerously as she and her men walked passed him. It was a small hint that he found her confidence amusing but not very smart; safe to say he might not appreciate being touched. “I hope you like the new suit too;” She said as she took a seat on the couch in front of him, relaxing and putting her hands behind her head while her men stood one on either side of the couch in soldier-like stances. “I kept you in mind the entire time I searched for the perfect look.” “Riiight… Well I’m sure you thoroughly enjoyed the task of changing me out of my prison suit while you were at it too.” Jerome said with a smile on his face, although there was anything but happiness behind it. “Oh! I would never disrespect your privacy, Sweetums!” She said, dramatically placing a hand over her heart. “I had one of my boys do it. Of course, next time, if you want me to be there instead, I’d be more than happy to help.” She suggested with giddiness and a high pitched giggle. Once again, Jerome admired her boldness but behind that smile and innocent head tilt was annoyance and more than likely the guarantee that he’d be sticking a knife through her stomach when he got out of his restraints. “Quite the set up you got here, how’d you get it?” He asked, trying to change the subject and get his mind away from wanting to kill the girl. “Oh my daddy bought out the whole building but never did anything with it, so I thought I’d help myself.”  She explained in a spoiled brat kind of tone. “Don’t you just love it?!” “Hmmm…” Jerome looked around the room. “Well… Not as cold, dark, and cozy as Arkham but I’d say it was a pretty good score.” Despite being a prisoner behind its stone walls, Arkham Asylum is his home-sweet-home; it had been for a while now and definitely better than that old trailer hell-hole he used to live in with his wretch of a mother. Well, at least he didn’t have to worry about any of that anymore, he made sure of that. He turned back to the blonde. “By the way, I never got your name.” “Gasp! I never gave it did I? Silly me! My name’s Sally,” She answered in a kind tone. She leaned forward, resting her left arm across her crossed legs and placing her right elbow over her knee while laying her cheek in her hand. The girl smiled so dreamily at the ginger before her with lidded eyes as she continued. “And you,” She released a long swoon. “You’re even more gorgeous in person. A face like that belongs in the spotlight, not behind bars! So I just had to do something; I pulled a few strings, bribed a few guards, and here you are!” She sang so excitedly. The smile on Jerome’s face spread at the girl’s obvious infatuation. “Very devious of you.” He said with a fake smile and impressed tone in his voice. She was completely flattered though, bursting in a fit of girlish giggles at his words. “Now then, if you’ll just untie me, I’ll be heading out now. Places to be, people to scare, things to blow up; you know, the usual act.” He proclaimed as he struggled against the ropes. Sally’s laughter died. “You can’t leave.” She stated with innocent confusion, the smile fading from her face and was replaced with a deranged, obsessed stare. Jerome was definitely not amused anymore; the promise of torture and death decorated his face as his struggling ceased and his attention went back to the blonde. “…What?” He asked through clenched teeth, doing what he could to hold his anger back. “You haven’t gotten you present yet Silly!” She said excited as ever. “Oh but trust me Pumpkin, once you see what I got for you, you’ll fall so badly for me, you’ll never, ever, EVER wanna leave!” Her giggles started up again. Delusional little brat; as if Jerome had anybody he would fall for, let alone let anyone tell him he would, like they knew him so damn well. No one was special enough to earn his favor, loyalty, and especially his obsession. “Tell you what, I’ll untie you if you promise to stay and see what I got for you. Pleeeease??” She pleaded hopeful and innocently. As pathetic as it was to agree to the girl’s begging, if it’ll get him out of these ropes, he had no choice. Jerome nodded. “Yay!” Sally clapped her hands, thrilled by his compliance. “Cut him loose.” She ordered the big lug on her right. The man pulled out a switchblade and walked over to the tied up teenager. He cut the ropes from his wrists first before walking behind him and freeing him from the rest of his restraints. Jerome quickly shrugged and yanked off every piece, not appreciating things that keep him from his freedom. Sure, he creepily enjoyed a warm, snuggly straight jacket the Arkham orderlies forced him and the other inmates into every now and then, but waking up strapped to a chair, away from his nut house of a home by a crazed, wannabe-bad fangirl wasn’t exactly the wisest thing to do to Gotham’s Ginger Maniac. “And send him in.” She ordered the goon once he was done with the ropes. Jerome was on his feet now, rubbing the pain from his wrists and watching through his peripheral vision as the man walked towards the door-less frame leading to the hallway outside. “Him?” The young man questioned as he turned to face the entryway. The goon disappeared for only a few seconds before footsteps were heard heading back to the living-room. He returned with another henchman who pushed a hooded figure dressed from head to toe in black into view and stood him between the two of them. The figure’s hands were clearly cuffed behind his back and a hand from each man was fastened over his shoulders to keep him from running. Soon enough, the goon to his left harshly yanked the hood off the figures head, revealing Sally’s gift to the redheaded criminal. The once mysterious figure’s eyes slowly opened, adjusting to the lights that illuminated his face as he blankly looked up at Jerome. Who turned out to be under that hoodie ended up bringing a slow forming and sinister smile back to the criminal’s face. “…Bruce…” The name flowed smoothly from his lips, practically savoring it as it exited. Now this one, this one has definitely earned every bit of Jerome’s loving obsession. The young Bruce Wayne: Billionaire, social outcast, and Jerome’s tenacious little prey that he’s been infatuated with targeting since coming back from the dead. “Jerome… Nice to see you again…” The boy greeted with no particular emotion in his voice. No sarcasm, no fear. He just stared rather calmly at the mad man before him. That had always impressed Jerome; how Bruce could be so composed even under the most dangerous of situations. “I sent him a message yesterday!” Sally said cheerfully loud. It put a damper on Jerome and Bruce’s staring contest; the ginger was rather enjoying it and the sound of her voice was all it took to whip the smile clear off his face. With an annoyed roll of his eyes Jerome looked to her and listen to her continued explanation. “Told him if he didn’t want a repeat of Gotham’s Mad City drama that he’d get his little rich boy butt down here tonight and make a deal with me… Heh, he came running!” She chuckled at that. “I mean seriously! A wannabe hero boy like him, how could he resist?!” “Aw Brucie,” With Sally’s explanation done and over with, Jerome was free to return his attention to the captured teenager. He slowly walked up to him with a crazed, but very happy smirk on his face. “You came all this way just for me?” The redhead practically towered over Bruce. Despite his rapid growth over the years, he was still shorter than the killer before him. Instead of justifying Jerome’s question with a response, his mouth remained shut. However, his silence was taken as an answer either way. “I’m touched.” Jerome said as he leaned in to be a little more leveled with Bruce’s eyes, his smile growing wider. “And now,” Sally started saying with a crazed look on her face. She reached for her left hip and brought out a knife. She quickly stood up from the couch and began to pace over to the two foes. “He’s dead!” The knife was raised above her head as she neared the young billionaire. Before she could do any form of damage however, Jerome’s hand shot up and grabbed her by the wrist. “Wow, wow!” Jerome chuckled at her eagerness. “Easy there Doll-Face,” Sally’s arm relaxed as she looked up at the ginger. He gently held her by her upper arms to keep her steady. “I like the enthusiasm an all but believe me when I say Brucie over here is worth so much more than an average stab to his pretty face.” Jerome briefly turned his head and sent a wink Bruce’s way. The boy wasn’t sure to take that as a flirtation or some sort of signal from the deranged lunatic. “He’s the main event,” Jerome explained to Sally. “The star attraction, the kind of creature you really wanna flaunt and present in front of a live audience!” Bruce decided on the latter. So as Jerome passionately defined the meaning of showmanship to the blonde, Bruce gave a quick glance to each bodyguard. They didn’t seem to suspect anything or even notice the wink given to him, so he took the opportunity to discreetly reach into his jacket sleeve and pull out a bobby pin. As the rich kid started to work on picking at the lock to his cuffs, Jerome continued his speech. “So why don’t we slow it down a bit, huh?” He asked with a charismatic smirk. “Art can’t be rushed after all and if it’s planned out just right; it’ll be the grandest show Gotham City will ever see.” Sally looked up with fully obsessed amazement at Jerome’s patience and natural act for creating the most brilliantly twisted criminal deeds. “For the time being,” The ginger dragged a finger slowly against the blonde’s cheek. “What do you say we get to know each other a little better? You mentioned something about helping me into some new clothes earlier…” His turned on the charm with a dangerously flirty grin stretching further along his face as he whispered the rest. “Or was it off?” Of course, the moderately dirty suggestion caused the crazed fangirl traits to come bubbling giddily back to the surface. Sally was just a fit of flattered giggles and snorting laughter. Bruce’s eyes rolled, indicating he was entirely done with this. “Are you done?” He asked impatiently. “Are you?” Jerome asked in response, peering at the boy through the corner of his eye. In a swift motion, Bruce revealed his newly freed hands, holding on the cuffs in his left and using both elbows to harshly knock the wind out of each guard’s stomachs. With loud grunts, the men bowled over at their now pain filled torsos. Bruce quickly turned around and grabbed the wrist of the guard to his right, snapping a cuff on it before reaching over to the left guard and cuffing his wrist with the other. With the two now joined by one pair of restraints, Bruce placed his hands on one side of each goon’s head and firmly slammed their skulls together. It might not be enough to render them unconscious for very long, but at least it would give the time needed to make a daring escape. “Sweeeet…” Jerome witnessed the whole thing, pleased and utterly impressed with Bruce’s quick maneuvering and with the guards subdued, he turned his attention back to his target. An insane smile brought Sally’s eyes away from Bruce’s striking display of deceiving strength and back up to the young man in front of her. An effortless, but still strong shove from the maniac extended the distance between him and his nutty fangirl. She was sent flying into the couch hard enough to bounce off the soft cushions and face first onto the splintered floor. The knife she held clattered just a few inches away from her. The third guard still standing by the sofa was so taken aback by the turn of events, he barely had time to reach into his jacket for a small remote and push one of its buttons before a wooden chair was broken over his head. The impact caused the man to stumble until he began to fall forward. Sally was just regaining her senses when she noticed her falling goon. Unable to move away in time, the bodyguard collapsed atop his young employer, trapping her with absolutely no way of getting out. That didn’t stop her from trying and throwing a fit while she was at it. The struggling stopped when a shiny dress shoe appeared in front of her face. She looked up to see Jerome towering over her with a dangerous gleam in his eyes and a smirk on his face. “Not so fun when it’s you unwillingly trapped by an idiot is it?” He squatted down to get a better look at his former captor. “Now you know how I felt about the chair.” There was absolutely no smile on his face anymore, just murder. “However,” Jerome reached over and picked up the discarded knife, much to Sally’s horror. “You were kind enough to cut me out of those ropes, so…” The boy threw the knife from his left to his right hand, admiring the sharpness before looking back at the blonde. “Why don’t I return the favor and cut you out from under there… Piece by piece?” Jerome asked with his terrifying smile returning and pulled his knife wielding hand above his head. “Let’s start with that head of yours…” Now for a good thrust of a knife through her skull. “Leave her alone.” Bruce’s voice firmly said from behind him, causing Jerome to stop his murderous attempt. Green eyes rolled irritatingly at Bruce’s disruptive righteousness, but he still lowered the knife and stood up right to show Bruce his disappointed scowl. “You’re no fun, Brucie.” His voice was raspy and bored, but as much as Jerome wanted nothing more than to drive the knife through the blonde’s head, there was no real anger from Bruce’s request to stop. “It’s not gonna be so much fun when more of her men show up. Pretty sure that remote was a relay for backup; three unsuspecting guards wasn’t a problem but I’m sure a handful more won’t be as easy to take down, at least not here. We need to leave, either slip away or get them on our own turf.” Bruce explained. “Uuugh, fine…” Jerome agreed, loathing how right Bruce was about leaving before more guards showed up. “Since you did as so nicely.” He sent him a flirty grin and another wink with a click of his tongue. Bruce simply rolled his eyes at the teasing gesture while Jerome turned around to address the girl. The knife that was once in the mad man’s grasp was now hanging delicately between his thumb and index finger; his other hand relaxed in his pocket as he whistled a casual tune. Suddenly the knife slipped from his grip. “Oopsy.” Jerome said playfully and unapologetically. “No!” Bruce exclaimed and flinched at the descending blade. Plink! Sally’s tightly closed eyes flashed opened to see the knife stabbed into the floor just a few inches from her face. A cold sweat formed from the anticipation of her death, she stayed speechless when she realized it wouldn’t be coming after all. Bruce was entirely relieved at that, the tension in his shoulder’s noticeably relaxed as he let out an anxious breath. Sally’s gaze traveled away from the knife and up at its wielder who was smiling down at her. She got off easy, but how could he refuse the rich boy he’d grown so fond of since his rebirth? “You’re lucky my favorite volunteer is a hero and that I highly value his opinion.” Jerome told the scared girl. “So anyways, thanks again for the bust outta Arkham and the new threads Sweetheart, I REALLY appreciate you getting me all suaved up for my big date tonight.” He squatted to her level again. “Can’t exactly charm my way into a night with the Prince of Gotham without the proper attire right? Like they say, no one can resist a man in uniform.” He said with a wide grin. “Well,” Jerome quickly stood up. “See you around Blondie.” Sally started to relax as Jerome turned away from her; the relief was short lived however. “Oh,” Jerome stopped. “And, one more thing:” He said turning on his heels to face her, his index finger raised to represent his final thought. In a split second, a horrifyingly dark expression spread through Jerome’s face. His smile was completely gone, the light from the lamp littered the left side of his face in shadows, and his eyes became insanely greener they once were. With terrifying speed, he squatted in front of her again; Sally’s eyes were wide in absolute fear of just being close to his calm but chilling expression. She stayed silent, waiting for the one more thingthe redhead mentioned to be said and done. “Stay away from my Brucie…” There was nothing but seriousness in his voice. “Kay?” But the humor soon returned when he asked for confirmation that she understood in a sweet, lighthearted tone and a sinister smile to keep his charming insanity visible. “Let’s go, Jerome.” Bruce insisted calmly at their need to leave before trouble came their way again. A low chuckle escaped the ginger’s stretching smile; Sally kept him from his little hero long enough. So he stood up and hurried after Bruce who started towards the doorway once he was sure Jerome would follow. The two disappeared into the hallway, leaving Sally all alone and having to wait for her henchman to regain conscious before she could properly wallow in her misery and the rejection she had received despite her efforts. For now, she was stuck sulking and pitying herself under the crushing weight of the passed out bodyguard and left to think twice about messing with Jerome and Bruce in the future. Finally the boys were out of that dreary, old building and reunited with the streets of Gotham City. Jerome closed the door behind him as Bruce led them down the steps of the complex and onto the sidewalk. “Since when did I ever become your Brucie?” The black clothed boy asked Jerome, not even looking at him as they walked side by side with their hands in their pockets. There was a happy stride to the young lunatic’s step while Bruce was a little hastier and kept scanning the abandoned neighborhood for any sign of trouble. “Aw come on, Brucie,” The killer said in a tone that made it seem like they had known each other for years and as if the possibility of Bruce punching his lights out if he spoke freely and without restraint wouldn’t occur. “You know the two of us were practically made for each other.” Jerome started walking backwards in order to explain himself to Bruce face to face, quite effortlessly so. “Ever since our last little date at the carnival, I knew there was something between us, even more magical than at the charity heist. You remember it right? The hate, the fun, the fighting…” Jerome immediately stopped causing Bruce to halt in order to avoid a collision with the lunatic. “The sparks.” He pointed out with an ever growing smile. The rich boy only shut his eyes at how bothered he was by the older teenager. “There’s no denying the chemistry here!” He leaned in a little closer. “You and me, we are destined to do that forever.” Bruce looked him dead in the eyes. “And where exactly did you come up with that prediction?” Bruce asked. “Arkham.” Jerome answered with a shrug, like it was the most obvious place for someone to come up with their future. “Nothing much to do there but think.” He took a dangerously closer step to the boy. “And baby, did I think… I thought about you every day my little Dark Knight…” His movement to lean in closer was a bit slower, more seductive even. “It really kept me warm at night…” He rasped with a lick of his lips. The young billionaire was disturbed and agitated, no doubt about it, but kept it pretty well hidden. He stayed calm as he kept eye contact with the maniac. Their staring contest was interrupted however when the sounds of cheering and laughter caught their ears. Looking ahead at the main street of the neighborhood, they noticed a huge crowd of people and bright lights. “Shall we proceed?” Bruce asked, turning back to look at the psychotic teenager. He didn’t wait for an answer before advancing towards the swarm. “Hard-to-get, huh? I like it…” Jerome said to himself with another slow lick to his lips and pressed on to catch up to Bruce. There were hundreds of people and the festivities stretched for blocks. Everything was decorated in orange, green, and purple lights, there were Jack O Lanterns, ghosts, witches, spider webs, skeletons, and bats everywhere, and everyone was dressed in illustrious, colorful costumes. “What’s going on here?” Jerome asked with genuine interest and ready to stroll right into the sea of people. Ever the party pooper, Bruce grabbed a hold of Jerome’s upper arm to keep him from going any further. “Don’t go in there yet.” He ordered. The lunatic smiled down at the hand gripping his arm and immediately the boy let go before any flirtations comments could be made. “There are too many witnesses and if any of them happen to be your cult followers, they’re sure to recognize us. We have to blend in.” “You sure you don’t just wanna keep me all to yourself?” He said with yet another wink, which earned him yet another eye roll. Bruce spotted something to his right. He made his way through the less crowded sidewalks and behind a small tented booth filled with costume accessories. Wigs, capes, and masks were hanging from poles while makeup, props, and random decorative items littered the tables. The young man squatted behind them to stay out of sight from any merchants or customers. He looked down at the scattered items, randomly grabbed a can of green hair spray and a small, unopened package of red, black, and white face paint, before quickly walked back to Jerome. “Here, put these on.” He handed the supplies to Jerome, who just looked down at them, then back at Bruce. “Got a mirror?” He asked. Bruce turned his head left, thinking for a bit before taking in and letting out a breath through his nose. “They have changing booths are here somewhere.” He said looking back at the redhead. “Follow me.” Bruce started walking, Jerome more than happy to let him lead the way as he smiled. A few minutes later, a booth made of orange sheets was found. Bruce stood outside with his arms crossed as he kept a look out while Jerome put on his new disguise. “So what’s going on here, huh?” Jerome asked from behind the curtains. “Awfully Halloweenie out there.” “That’s because it is.” Bruce replied. “No! Really?” The ginger exclaimed in genuine surprise. “Man, I have been gone long.” “It’s the annual Halloween Bash.” The boy explained. “The city hosts it in the abandoned neighborhoods to keep the busy streets clear. Plus the scenery makes for a more Halloweenie atmosphere as you put it.” “Yeah and just a little more mudery too.” Jerome added. “They have policemen stationed throughout the streets in case of trouble.” Bruce responded. “Just another reason a disguise is a good idea.” “Right, don’t wanna end the date to early after all.” The maniac agreed, teasing humor in his voice. Cue the eye roll and frustrated head shake from Bruce at the flirty comment. “You know, I’ve never experienced a Gotham Halloween before, or any in general.” Jerome confessed. This somehow got Bruce’s attention. He looked through the corners of his eyes towards the curtains booth. “You’ve never celebrated Halloween before?” The younger teenager asked. “Course not.” Jerome replied as a matter of fact. “I grew up in a circus, every day was like Halloween. ‘Cept instead of various costumes, there were only clowns, instead of black cats and Jack O Lanterns, we had tigers and trailer homes, and instead of a fistful of candy, I got a mouthful of blood after mommy dearest gave me my daily dose of child abuse. Well… her or one of her boyfriends.” Jerome was talking as if it was no big deal to have had to endure an abusive childhood; it actually made Bruce feel for him. “…I’m sorry to hear that.” Bruce said as he turned his head back to the festivities. It didn’t sound very heartfelt, but then again the boy wasn’t the best at that. He did mean it though. Bruce had wonderfully loving parents; he couldn’t nearly relate to Jerome or even imagine why anyone would want to hurt a defenseless child. “Yeah well, don’t gotta worry about it anymore.” Jerome breathed out. “I got over it.” This time his voice went dark; it didn’t last long as he released a sigh to calm his nerves. “So what about you Brucie? Celebrate Halloween these days?” Bruce stayed quiet for a while, staring down at the cement under his feet. “…No… Not since my parents died…” He confessed. Jerome was surprisingly honest with him so why not return the favor, even if it was pretty vague. “Well, you ain’t missing out on this one Brucie Boy,” With a dramatic push of the curtains, Jerome presented his newly painted face and hair color. “You got me!” He announced joyously while holding his arms out to gesture to his costume with a giant smile. Bruce gave him a quick scan before looking back at him with an unimpressed expression. “…You’re serious?” The raven haired boy questioned on account of the choice in theme. Jerome’s face and neck were completely white, his eye sockets covered in black, and a messy red smile stretching practically from ear to ear. His hair was smothered in green spray; rendering his red hair practically nonexistent underneath it and making his locks appear spikier. “Hey, I loathed the place, but you can’t forget your roots! The circus is in my blood!” The painted up boy exclaimed with no shame. “Whatever you say, Joker.” The billionaire replied, turning his attention back to the crowded streets. Although he may have been trying to sound humorous by giving the maniac a somewhat nickname, he still looked as inexpressive as ever. “Aww… My first nickname!” Jerome cooed, truly touched by the unintentionally sweet name given to him. “Joker…” He allowed the name to linger in the air, then looked back at Bruce with a huge smile. “Has a nice ring to it.” He stepped closer to Bruce. “I knew you were starting to warm up to me.” Bruce didn’t even bother looking at Jerome to know he was being flirty again. However, Jerome noticed something that quickly replaced his smirk with a confused expression. “Hey what about your costume?” He asked. There wasn’t a response, instead Bruce reached into his jacket and pulled out a small black mask. He placed it over his eyes before pulling his hood over his head to complete the look and turned back to Jerome. Well that solves that. “Happy now?” Bruce asked, not aiming to please but to shut the older teenager up. “Very…” Jerome’s smirk returned, satisfied with Bruce’s silent answer. “Could use some color though.” “I don’t do color.” The boy retorted. “So I’ve noticed,” Jerome replied back indifferently to Bruce’s fashion sense. “But I gotta say you look pretty hot in black.” There was no holding back the irritation for this guy’s flirtatious comments. “…Thank you…” Bruce said forcing himself to be polite. A compliment was still a compliment after all. “Not a problem Sweet Thing.” Jerome said patting Bruce’s behind and causing the younger boy to flinch at the unexpected contact as he walked over to stand a few steps ahead of him. The rich kid breathed out his anger in order to resist the urge to kick the ginger’s ass. Don’t want to draw attention to themselves after all; that’s what the costumes were for to begin with. “So, what do you wanna do?” Jerome asked while taking his turn to scan the costumed civilians, Bruce irritatingly walking up to stand next to him. “Wanna grab some hot dogs, candy corn, maybe share a milkshake like all the lovebirds like to do?” He suggested with a charming smile while Bruce only glared up at him. “Hey, watch it!” A voice sounded from the already too loud party goers, catching Bruce and Jerome’s attention as they simultaneously turned to locate the source. Farther down the street, a total of five of Sally’s clown faced bodyguards made their way through the large crowd, pushing costumed bystanders out of their path with just their massive stature alone. “Dudes!” A zombie man exclaimed. “Agh!” A bumblebee girl yelped “Excuse you guys!” A teenage princess sassed. “Get offa the street, you Bozos!!” A skeleton man shouted at the painted goons. “Ah man,” Jerome said in disappointment. “Just when the Halloween fun was about to start!” The now green haired teenager pouted. Turning his head right, Bruce spotted a tall building across the street. His eyes wandered all the way to the rooftop as he also took note of an alley to the left of the high structure. “We need to get to higher ground,” He concluded looking back to the bodyguards getting closer and closer. “Maybe avoid any encounter with them in case our disguises fail.” He brought his eyes back to Jerome who was still watching the approaching goons and went silent for a moment. “If it’s safe after a while,” He started up again with a gleam of hesitation in his masked face. “We can come back down and partake in the festivities.” Now that was unexpected! Jerome was shocked to hear somebody thinking up something specifically with the painted lunatic in mind. He met their gazes and smiled both in suspicion and excitement. Did the Bruce Wayne just imply that he wanted to spend Halloween night with theJerome Valeska?! “Is that your way of saying you wanna spend Halloween with me?” Jerome asked with a charming smile. Bruce stared up at the clown. “Do you wanna be able to enjoy the festival in peace or not?” He asked irritated. Jerome’s smile stretched at Bruce’s avoidance of his question. “Lead the way, Brucie.” He replied with a slight bow to the masked boy. “…Let’s move then Joker.” Bruce said, making Jerome’s smile grow further by using his newly given nickname again. With one more glance at the monstrous goons, the boys made their way across the street. It took a bit of effort getting through the costumed crowd; a few bumps, a few grazes, and a few skids were taken to avoid any passing or blocking party goes, but eventually they reached the alleyway and began to climb the steel ladder right along the corner of the building. Back on the ground, the burley bodyguards stopped to scan the area a more closely. The man at the head of the small group, possibly the leader, decided to look up. A small movement brought his eyes to the abandoned complex and right at the boys scaling the building. Jerome had a sudden urge to look down at the streets and saw the guard leering at them. With a huge smile, he sent a friendly wave to the painted man. Bruce looked down at the green-haired lunatic when he noticed he had stopped moving and followed his gaze to the men down below. Startled at being discovered by the very people they were trying to avoid, he quickened his ascent to the rooftop, causing Jerome to following. The main bodyguard looked back to his associates and nodded in the direction of the building to pursue their targets. Bruce made it to the top and climbed over the ledge of the structure to stand on the roof. “You let them see us?!” Bruce yelled behind him. “What happened to using out costumes to slip away quietly?” He asked with absolute frustration. “Oh please, where’s the fun in that?” Jerome responded as he pulled himself over the ledge and joined Bruce on the rooftop. “Isn’t that what Halloween is all about? Mischief and mayhem?” The clown faced teenager asked in amusement as he strolled up to the young billionaire with a smile. “Just trying to make our night on the town a little more exciting.” “It’s gonna get us killed is what it’s gonna do!” Bruce angrily spat up at Jerome. “So you admit this is a date?” The clown flirted playfully. “That’s not what I implied.” Bruce said in annoyance and turning his head away from Jerome’s direction. He actually seemed a bit embarrassed by the insinuation. And was that blush under his mask? “Yeah, whatever you say Darlin’.” Jerome teased in a low, raspy voice as he placed a finger under Bruce’s chin and directed his attention back to his nearing face. The sound of feet landing on the roof brought the two out of their child-like argument and to the edge of the building. The main guard was already standing on the roof’s floor, staring ahead at the boys while the rest of his men climbed up the ladder and took their place on either side of him. “Evening, Gentlemen!” Jerome greeted merrily. “Nice to see you boys again so soon but as you can see,” The purple suited teenager began explaining as he snaked his arm around Bruce’s waist and pulled him closer against him, much to the younger man’s discomfort. “We’re on a date. So we’d really appreciate if you guys make this quick so we can all get back to the Halloween fun.” Bruce waited with a concerned expression for a response from the goons; the leader answered by running at them. “Now we’re talking,” Jerome whispered with excitement in his crazy eyes. “Hang tight Brucie.” “What?” Bruce asked turning to him when he didn’t understanding what he meant by his instruction. He soon found out when Jerome took hold of his right hand and swiftly dipped the both of them just in time to dodge the large man flying right over them. The boys lifted their heads in time to watch the man become a giant heap on the rooftop floor before turning their gazes back to each other. “You ever dance with the Devil in the pale moonlight?” Jerome asked grinning down at Bruce. “What are you talking about?” The rich kid asked irritated once again. “I don’t know,” Jerome confessed. “I heard it from somewhere, seemed pretty fitting with the setting and all. Anyway, wanna kick these guys’ asses?” He asked sweetly. “It’s about time…” Bruce answered. Once in agreement, Jerome straightened his stance and launched Bruce as hard as he could at the row of clowns. The rookie hero flew like a rocket into one of the center guards, pushing him with absolute force against the rooftop. The big man landed close enough to the high ledge to get the back of his head smashed against it, rendering him unconscious. Bruce used the momentum to push off the knocked out man’s chest, flipping his body midair so he could land in a squat on the ledge, now facing the group of thugs and incredibly impressed maniac. “Damn, that was hot…” Jerome said biting his smiling lips at Bruce’s impressive display of speed and agility. In his distracted state, the young man was sucker punched by one of the guards. The force of the hit sent Jerome stumbling backwards into the waiting arms of the recovered guard who had previously attacked them. The surprise assault made the maniac chuckle nonetheless at his mistake of taking his eyes off their attackers to watch Bruce’s new and improved skills. He winced at the pain flooding to his face; restrained from tending to it by the giant bear hug he was receiving, but he was able to shake his head to regain some of his coherence. “You know, you’ve gotten a lot better since last time, Brucie!” The lunatic reported his observation while harshly thrusting his head back into his captor’s face. The man released his hold on the teenager to take care of his now bleeding if not additionally broken nose. “Looking for a rematch when I got out?” He turned to finish off the bleeding guard with a swift punch to the side of his jaw, sending his falling to the floor. Two down, three to go. Bruce had gotten down from the ledge to fight against two of the guards. The boy who had donned the very mask he was wearing had been the city’s mysterious vigilante-in-training for a few months now; it was no surprise that he’d improved so much since his start and even more so since the Mad City carnival. “You seem to be holding your won fairly well yourself.” Bruce replied as he was currently dodging punches and attempts of restraining him. He stepped back to avoid a fist from the guard to his left and leaned forward to avoid one from the right. He sent an uppercut the jaw of the right guard and gave a sharp kick to the left guard’s stomach. The third man went after Jerome, randomly throwing punches as the rest of his fellow goons had done before. The killer was actually very graceful; almost expertly he dodged the attempted blows from the bigger man. Jerome was able to land a hard punch to the thug’s face, but it was only enough to force his head back for a few seconds before he regained his composure and glare back down angrily at the young man in front of him. Jerome only stared speechless at his opponent for a moment. “…Well,” He said with a shrug of his shoulders. Without many options left, the clown gave a fast kick in between the goon’s legs as a last resort. The goon’s eyes practically flew out of their sockets and he slowly lower to fall face down on the floor clenching his injured groin. Jerome stepped over the fallen bodyguard and looked up at Bruce with a smirk. “More or less.” The maniac’s last assault on the man was an effortless heel kick to the side of his head, knocking him out cold and making that another goon down between the two teenagers. “I grew up in the circus remember? That and I learned a thing or two in Arkham.” He stated proudly as he fixed his tie. “Which would explain your less than honorable tactics.” Bruce pointed out to the criminal. The black clothed hero was backed up against the ledge by one of the towering giants, but despite their stature, he had skill on his side. He leaned back to dodge a right hook, and pushed off quick enough to duck under the arms of a would-be bear hug. The guard bumped against the ledge; looking down at his empty hands that missed their intended target. Before he knew it, Bruce had come up behind the goon and with all his strength, launched his shoulder into the man’s back and sent him screaming off the rooftop. The young man watched the big lug’s decent until his yelling ceased with a loud crash into what sounded like a full container of garbage. A startled cat was the last noise that sounded off before the boy turned away from the ledge. He must have forgotten how many opponents there were when the remaining guard lifted him off the ground by his upper arms. The man was pissed at being out done by the young fighter; he flashed his teeth in a low growl with a small stream of blood flowing out of the corner of his mouth. “Well, what can I say?” Jerome’s voice reached Bruce’s ears but he had yet to see him passed the angry, scowling thug. That was soon remedied when a loud thud caused the big man to go bug-eyed and his angry expression disappeared clear off his face. His grip on the boy loosened enough for Bruce to land safely back on his feet. He watched the goon fall to the left and collapsed to the ground with a painful groan. Jerome was revealed to be standing direction behind the guard with that ever-present smile on his face. “I’m the bad guy!” Jerome declared as he stretched his arms out to gesture proudly to himself. To his surprise, those words somehow earned the lunatic a small, but still noticeable smile from the rookie hero. “Wooow…” The green haired teenager stepped closer to Bruce, his hood having fallen back down during the fight and leaving him with only his mask to conceal his identity. It was alright though; seeing him with the mask alone made him appear even more adorable in the maniac’s eyes. “Did I just make the Prince of Gotham smile?” He asked as his grin stretched. “I didn’t even say trick-or-treat…” He finished with a wink and stopped in front of the shorter boy. Bruce rolled his eyes like he’s being doing the entire night, except this time he was actually amused and not annoyed by the older boy’s words. His smile remained as he scanned from left to right at their defeated foes. “They’ll be out for quite a while,” Bruce explained as he turned around and started his way to the ledge of the building. “We should head back down if we want to catch the last few hours of the party.” The rich kid had barely lifted one foot onto the ledge before a hand grabbed hold of his hood and yanked him backwards. Bruce found himself firmly pressed against Jerome’s chest, the one of the criminal’s arms tightly wrapped around his chest and the other around his waist to keep him from getting away. “What are you doing?!” The boy growled angrily and confused as he struggled to get loose. Jerome gave a twisted smile. “Real nice try, Brucie Boy,” The insane boy rasped against Bruce’s ear. “But you can’t fool me.” Jerome released his grip on the boy and harshly shoved him to his left. Bruce fell to the floor and skidded against his right arm; once he stopped, he glanced over his shoulder at the maniac he had fought beside only minutes ago. “You really think I’d fall for something as stupid as you letting me loose on Halloween?” Jerome asked, almost insulted as Bruce got back to his feet. “You gotta give me a little more credit than that Babycakes! I. Know you! You were just gonna bide your time,” Jerome began to elaborate; Bruce could only stand his ground and stared up at the slowly approaching lunatic. “Get me all sugar rushed, and then smash a Jack O’ Lantern over my skull when my guard was down …” The purple suited clown stopped mere inches from the young vigilante, leaning in closer to stress his words. “Goodnight Gotham, good morning Arkham…” Bruce remained silent; he didn’t even flinch at the strong grip Jerome’s hand put on his jacket in order to pull him closer to his angry, painted face. “Nobody gets the drop on me without me knowing about it;” Jerome explained. “Especially not a spoiled, wannabe hero boy who would never waste his precious time on a criminal freak like me…” At those last words, Bruce grew tired of Jerome’s false accusations and sent his fist crashing into his painted cheekbone. The crazed lunatic’s grip released from his jacket and allowed him to extend the space between them. Jerome stumbled back but kept his footing; he held a palm against his injured face and stared angrily back at the rich kid. “… Guess you’re not as clever as I perceived you to be…” Bruce stated. His heart was not at all in the insult; he almost looked sad if not at least disappointed by the sudden change in alliance between the two of them. “Then again… You may not be accustomed to someone just trying to do something nice for you…” Jerome was speechless for a second before a small giggle escaped his lips and soon he began softly laughing as Bruce’s words finally started to sink in. “Brucie…” He spoke through his hushed laughter. “You are so cute!” The laughing then busted full force out of his stomach. “I’m being serious.” Bruce replied, annoyed that his words were not being taken sincerely. “Yeah, right!” Jerome laughed, clenching his sore stomach. “Bruce Wayne, elite billionaire of Gotham City, doing something out of the kindness of his heart for the scumbag who made the whole city go completely nuts!!” He couldn’t hold it in any longer; laughter increased in volume and rate as it flooded out of the criminally insane maniac. He had to lean his hands against his knees to keep from falling to the floor in hysterical amusement. “Like…” He tried to catch his breath and straighten his stance. “Like you really care about treating me like I’m an actual person!” The laughter started up again and he flew back to lean on his knees. “I’m genuinely trying to!!” Bruce shouted, finally having enough of Jerome’s ridicule. The unexpected outburst caused the insane laughter to stop and the lunatic shot his attention back up at the younger boy. “I had always assumed you were just another criminal! That all you were after was the spotlight, the killing, and the chaos that comes with it! Just like the rest of them!” Bruce took a short breath and looked away to calm himself down before continuing. “But tonight I realized something…” The billionaire boy’s eyes looked up from the ground back at Jerome. “That’s just one half of the story… There’s always a second side that doesn’t get the chance to be heard…” Jerome was up right now, listening to Bruce’s words with curiosity of where they were going. “I read your file, found out what you did to your mother… Before tonight, I figured it was solely based on unexplainable violent tendencies… But judging by what little you shared with me earlier… I realize it must have been far more personal than just a murdering impulse…” Jerome remained silent. “I’m not saying that what you did to her was justifiable; in my opinion there are prison cells for what she did to you. Nor have I dismissed the thought of sending you back to Arkham for your crimes against the city…” Bruce gave him one last look before turning his attention to the night sky then down to the ground on his left side. “I just thought, considering the holiday… Maybe for one night, you’d like to experience what it’s like to just be a regular kid…” The boy gathered the courage to look back up and see what the clown’s reaction would be. Jerome was surprised to say the least by Bruce’s unexpected sincerity; he never thought he’d see the hero boy show him any form of sympathy for his old life, let alone defend him for his still growing but already infamous criminal life. He took a step, a confused smile spreading on his face, as he started walking slowly towards Bruce with his hands stuffed into his pockets. “You’re being serious, aren’t you?” The painted teenager asked. “Aww…” Bruce watched the maniac getting closer and closer to him with every step he took, a calm expression never leaving his face. A few more steps and Jerome was standing directly in front of him. “Growing a soft spot for me Brucie?” The masked vigilante didn’t answer. “…Let’s just say…” Bruce started to say but then turned his attention to the ground, growing very shy as he thought about how to respond to Jerome’s question without giving away the full empathy he discovered he had for him after the tonight. He was tense; suddenly a timid sort of demeanor coming over him and that blush from earlier was peeking from underneath his mask again. He worked through his nerves to look back up at Jerome. “I know what it’s like to be a freak too…” Vivid emerald eyes pierced deeply into midnight blue ones in a rather intimate manner. Despite their many differences, whether it’s in their affiliations with the law, their lives in both the past and present, or even their wardrobe choices; somehow they managed to find far more similarities than they had expected. Jerome smirked down at Bruce before quickly closing the gap between them and firmly captured the rookie vigilante’s lips with his. The clown held onto the black suited crime fighter’s upper arms to pull him in closer; Bruce’s hands managed to keep that from completely happening by pressing them against Jerome’s chest. The young lunatic was putting a majority of the effort and enjoyment into the kiss, but even the Prince of Gotham couldn’t help but kiss back. His participation was small but noticeable enough to cause a smirk to form on the maniac’s lips and for Bruce to feel it against his own. After allowing the kiss to continue for a few more seconds, Bruce decided that was more than generous. He pushed firmly but gently against Jerome’s chest, a way of politely asking the other to stop. Their lips unlocked with a smack and their eyes opened to meet each other. In Jerome’s face, there was nothing but pride, amusement, and total satisfaction while Bruce’s held utter speechlessness, confusion, and pure irritation when he knew internally for a fact that he had enjoyed the kiss just as much as the clown did. “To hot for you Bruce?” Jerome teased with a flirty smile. “…It wasn’t terrible…” Bruce admitted embarrassingly. “You loved it…” The Jerome said undoubtedly. “By the way, color looks pretty good on you.” Confused at first, Bruce’s fingertips touched his lips and when he drew them away to have a look, spotted a smudge of red face paint on them. He annoyingly started rubbing the back of his sleeve against his lips to rid them of the colorfully bright substance. “Do not get used to that…” He commanded in a threatening tone. “Wouldn’t dream of it…” Jerome declared; the distances between them shortened again as the maniac’s hands were back on Bruce’s upper arms without much refusal from the younger boy. “I love me a game of hard-to-get better anyway.” Jerome thought for a bit as big blue eyes stared back at him; Bruce knew he was thinking over some newly formed idea in his messed up head that ended up bringing a mischievous smile to the lunatic’s face. “Eh!” The clown shrugged. “One for the road.” Before the billionaire knew it, painted lips were back on his. The kiss was much more demanding the second time around; one of Jerome’s hands held onto the side of Bruce’s face while the other pushed against the small of the rich kid’s back to bring him closer to him. As much as he tried to refrain, Bruce couldn’t deny his want to give in this time. His hands gripped Jerome’s jacket lapels to bring them even closer together, causing the kiss to become even more passionate. Jerome was ravenous but still surprisingly gentle; as obsessively violent as he can be, with Bruce, there was just something that made him feel more like himself, more relaxed, more playful… More human. Their lips broke free from each other; Bruce’s smudged in red once again while Jerome licked his hungrily as his own way of savoring the hero’s taste that still lingering on them. There were only a few inches between them, their eyes locking in another intimate stare as they caught their breath. A gleam of mischief reappeared on Jerome’s face as he regained his composure and flashed Bruce a cunning grin. The moment vanished when Bruce’s hood was harshly pulled over his head, obscuring his view. When he gathered his senses from the unexpected action, he removed the hood to reveal Jerome had disappeared from before him. He looked from his left then to his right, finally spotting the clown standing on the ledge with his hands relaxing in his pockets again and a big smile sent his way. “Gotta say Brucie…” Jerome brought a hand to his lips, lightly caressing them with his fingers in a provocative manner as he kept his lust filled eyes on Bruce. “You’re pretty feisty when you wanna be. Hot damn!” Jerome bit his smiling lips. “Maybe we can do it again sometime.” He suggested in a deeper, raspy voice and sending a wink and seductive lick of his lips to the raven haired boy. Bruce squinted his eyes suspiciously. “But I’m sorry to say I gotta cut out little date short tonight. Wanna be able to enjoy some me time before I get started on the real fun I’ve got planned for good ol’ Gotham City…” His eyes suddenly got darker. “Unless you plan on stopping me beforehand…” Jerome sounded like he was daring the boy to make a move, expecting him too actually, and do everything he could to make sure the killer was returned to Arkham Asylum. Bruce just stood there, taking a moment to think about his options. Astonishingly, just a few seconds later, a small but undeniably noticeable smile appeared on his face. He looked back up at the purple suited clown. “Maybe later…” Bruce said confidently. “…Aww…” Jerome cooed. Bruce never ceased to surprise him, especially as much as he did this whole night they spent together. “So you do care about me…” The habit Bruce had seemingly adopted of rolling his eyes at almost every flirty or foolish comment Jerome made occurred once again, however the smile never left his face. The replacement of annoyance with actual amusement in his eyes was a way of showing he didn’t admit to it but he also didn’t deny any truth he felt about the lunatic’s words. “Goodnight Jerome…” Bruce bade to the costumed criminal, the smile on his face unmistakably growing. Seeing a genuinely happy smile on the usually brooding rich kid caused a sincere smile, with no evil or mischievous intentions behind it, to spread across the strangely calm lunatic’s face. “…Nighty night Brucie…” Jerome replied softly. He gave a gracefully bow to the masked teenager, as if he was in the presence of royalty. In a way, he kind of was. He has referred to Bruce as the Prince of Gotham quite a few times before after all. Jerome stood back up to his full height, jumping down fearlessly to land on a step of another ladder attached to the opposite side of the apartment complex. He held onto one of the security bars with one hand, hanging lazily from it as he glanced around the bars and back at Bruce. The green haired maniac sent a flirty wink to the young hero along with his infamously charming smile accompanied by a loud click of his tongue. His other hand reached for the second bar, hopping off the step he was suspended on and sliding his way down the ladder. With Jerome out of sight, Bruce wasn’t afraid to further extend his smile in light of the clown’s final flirtation. He lifted his hand to place his hoodie back over his head and turned around to make his own way down from the building.

It was close to eleven when Bruce finally got home. In the living room, Alfred sat peacefully watching TV with a bowl of popcorn on his lap. His full attention was on the television that was currently playing the classic It's the Great Pumpkin Charlie Brown, the voices of children listing the different candies they received while one stated he had instead received a rock. As the butler brought a few pieces of the traditional theater snack to his lips and munched away, Bruce made his way into the cozy room. “Evening Alfred.” The still mask donned boy greeted, an uplifting tone replacing his usually prim and proper speech pattern. Alfred looked over his shoulder at the sound of his ward’s voice. “Evening Master Bruce.” Alfred greeted back politely as he placed the popcorn bowl on the table in front of him and rose from his seat. The man straightened out his vest and turned to the teenager standing just a few feet behind the sofa. “Back from your nightly patrol I see. Did you happen to take my advice and partake in any Hallows’ Eve festivities while you were gone?” “Not really, no.” Bruce responded as he removed his hood. He didn’t want to reveal the events of tonight nor the company he was with to his guardian. He wasn’t entirely lying though, aside from the costumes, there wasn’t much of any Halloween based activities to report. “Oh,” Alfred nodded. “Then I suppose the red on your face isn’t at all from stuffing your gob with junk for tonight then?” Red on his face? Bruce’s eyes widened when he realized what the man meant by that. He must have forgotten to clear off the paint Jerome smudged on his lips after their second kiss occurred. Following their first, Jerome had pointed it out to him and he was quick to remove the evidence of their lip lock, but the second was on impulse and unexpected. The two were so occupied by the surprise occurrence of the intimate gesture, that all else must have been lost to them. “Oh!” Bruce rapidly began wiping his sleeve against his lips for the second time that night. “Yes, well…” He moved his arm away when he was sure all the red was removed and smiled calmly back at Alfred. “I may have indulged in the holiday pastries at the Halloween Bash this evening.” The news, albeit false, made Alfred smile. “Well, that’s good to hear Sir.” The older man said. “I know holiday fun of any kind has been rather difficult for you to participate in for quite some time now…” The smile on his face only grew. “It’s nice to hear that’s changed for tonight.” Bruce’s smile stretched further as well, happy that he managed to bring some joy to his guardian’s night. There was a comfortable silence between the two of them before Alfred broke it. “I was just watching a Halloween special,” He indicated to the TV. “If you care to join me. I can whip us up some more popcorn, bring in a few drinks, maybe even some of the cupcakes I put in the oven not too long ago.” It was definitely a night of smiles as the one on Bruce continued to grow. “That sounds fantastic Alfred.” The black suited boy replied. “Rightio then!” The man exclaimed; excited by Bruce’s Halloween spirit he had thought was long gone since his parents’ passing. “Why not get changed then while I set things up?” “Of course.” Bruce agreed; turning to exit the room before he abruptly looked over his shoulder back at Alfred. “Oh and Alfred… Thank you…” He gave his surrogate father one last smile before officially leaving to his room. Alfred smiled at his adopted son’s show of appreciation. The door to the room opened and the rookie vigilante quickly stepped inside. Bruce shut the door behind him, tiredly leaning his back against it and hung his head to release a relieved sigh. With eyes peacefully closed, he reached up to detach the small mask from his face. He reopened his eyes and lifting his head. To his surprise, he found the window across his room wide open, the curtains flowing gracefully with the cool fall breeze. On the window sill was a plastic, pumpkin-shaped bucket goofily smiling at him. The young man approached the fake Jack O Lantern, greeted with the sight of it nearly filled to the top with a various selection of candy. Atop the Halloween treats appeared to be a folded piece of paper. Bruce reached in and began to unfold it. It was a note: “Hi Gorgeous, hope you’re not too mad about the break in, couldn’t resist getting you a little something before the night was over to say thank for not turning me into the cops. But just between us, why don’t we think of it as a Halloween present instead to make it more special? You’re room wasn’t hard to find by the way, the black curtains were a dead giveaway.” That part of the note brought a smile to Bruce’s face. “So I bet you’re wondering where the candy came from; I stole it off some chick at the party. She was complaining about her outfit not being sleazy enough. No worries though, I didn’t kill her, as fun as it would have been; I snatched it while she wasn’t looking. The small cake I threw at her managed to shut her up though!” Bruce let out a breathy laugh at the image of frosting splattered against the spoiled girl’s hair and face popping into his mind. “Tonight was a hell of a night Darlin’, I should get kidnapped more often if it means another date with my favorite volunteer. I’ll be seeing you again soon Brucie Baby, and you can so count on another game of KISS THE CLOWN when I do. ‘Til then my little Prince of Gotham, sweet dreams. Forever yours, and don’t deny it, Jerome… No! Forever yours, Joker XOXO” With the note finished, Bruce placed it gently on the window sill; his hand pressed to his once again blushing face. How embarrassing to know that even Jerome’s flirtatious comments in note form could also cause him to fluster uncontrollably. His hand dragged to the back of his neck as he contemplated the words the maniac wrote to him; he wasn’t quite sure what to think of it all. When they first met, all he saw in Jerome was an insane criminal bent on bringing destruction to his home of Gotham, but tonight he saw passed the cold blooded killer and learned about the child who had to endure abuse throughout his life that eventually led to his current life of crime. So could he really blame him for any of it? Were they truly so different that he couldn’t sympathize with what a traumatic childhood could do to someone? There was always a change that Bruce would turn out just like Jerome. However, he at least had family in the form of Alfred, who has protected and guided him even before he lost his parents; Jerome had no one to keep him safe or supported… Wait… Maybe, just maybe… He could be the one to save him. Maybe he could help him; rescue him just as he did tonight. Who knows, maybe one day, they could even fight side by side instead of against each other. They did seem to make quite the team after all. Those possibilities were meant for another day. Tonight, it was still Halloween and he planned on enjoying the remaining time it had to offer. He’d missed far too many these past few years and that was going to change. He had to admit, Jerome was right; it really did turn out to be a hell of a night: Bad guys, rooftop brawls, candy, and even the company of a green eyed psycho clown he didn’t expect to share his first Halloween in years with. Not to mention the double dose of surprise kisses they shared and thoroughly enjoyed despite Bruce trying to convince himself otherwise. All the thinking was put to rest for now, Bruce finally making peace with the reality of the events of tonight and his new found understanding of his new frienemy. An amused hum escaped him at the very thought of them being anything but enemies. Moving the pumpkin to the side to make room for his crossed arms, he leaned against the window sill and took in the night’s atmosphere. The moon hovered brightly over the distant city; it was one of those rare nights of the year when the Gotham sky was clear and completely deprived of its usual thick blanket of gloomy clouds. There were even a few stars shining alongside the lonely white giant. The breeze was fresh and welcomed as it blew against his face and through his ebony hair. He fully intended on enjoying what would be the first moment of peace he had experienced all day. “See you later Joker…” Bruce whispered to the absent criminal. Unbeknownst to him however, was a smirking Jerome standing just below the window. He was leaned against the brick wall with his hands in his pockets and chewing on some gum as he too enjoyed the nighttime sky. A few moments more passed before Bruce retreated back into his room to change and rejoin Alfred in the living room for the last bit of Halloween fun. When the sound of heavy, booted footsteps faded into near silence, the still painted clown lazily blew a bubble; it soon popped and the sugary treat was once again in between his teeth. “See you later…” Jerome responded to Bruce’s farewell in a low, raspy voice; his smile stretching at the knowledge of the rich kid being completely oblivious to him being right outside his mansion. The young hero wasn’t that good… Yet… “My Little Dark Knight…” The End… For Now……