#i lost interest after a bit though and that account is pretty much Locked unless i pay for the subscription which. lol.

[gender-euphowrya]

giving ffxiv another go on the free trial weeee

[tinyboxxtink]

“Sharky” *Part 7*

I have a question y’all, do you think that I make my fics too short? I always tend to keep them at 10 chapters because I feel like my attention span goes, but I see other fics are sometimes substantially longer. I really have some good plot plans for this one, so we’ll see how long it goes. 

Also OMG the gif works so well with the scene please send help.

Tag List

@wanniiieeee

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@word-scribbless

@dumauier

@gibbs274

@aprildecker-blog

@objection-argumentative

Chapter List Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 8

“Rafael...Rafael come on don’t make me run in these shoes,” You called after him, scampering in your stilettos. Rafael finally stopped and turned to face you.

“What, Y/N? What could you possibly say to me?” He said exasperatedly. 

“Well this is familiar…” You half smiled. It was a call back to your first “date”.

“You really want to make jokes right now? He asked angrily.

“Sorry...I’m sorry,” You awkwardly looked at the ground. “For everything,”

“For everything,” He scoffed with a roll of his eyes. 

“Yes! For everything,” You tried to step towards him, but he stepped back. 

“For what, exactly? For stealing my stuff? For going through my apartment? For DRUGGING me?” 

“I did NOT--”

“Oh don’t even. I had such weird dreams that I haven’t had except for when I was taking hydrocodone for a back surgery,” He crossed his arms.

“Oh come on it wasn’t even half a pill there’s no way you could have--”

“SEE, I knew it! What the fuck is WRONG with you?!” He stared at you with disbelief.

“I...I don’t know…” You bit your lip.

“Right,” He shook his head with a sarcastic smile and turned to walk away, but you grabbed his hand.

“But look I’m sorry, okay and, and I didn’t give these to Buchanan yet so I’m going to delete them, right now and--” You started to show him the CONFIDENTIAL photos you took last night, but for the first time you were looking at them properly.

“I thought you were deleting them,” He said almost on top of you when he realized what you had taken photos of.

“What is this?” You zoomed in on the files, your face growing pale. “Rafael, what is this?” 

“Look we’re talking about what YOU did, Y/N--” He started to deflect but you weren’t hearing any more.

“My NAME is all over this, Rafael,” You could feel your panic attack coming back. The files were basically a full blown background check on you. Your family, your career, everything.

“It’s...not what you think,” Now it was his voice that went soft.

“It’s not what I--I can’t fucking believe this,” You laughed sarcastically, tears stinging your eyes. “You’re not upset I ‘played’ you, you’re upset you got outplayed!”

“What? What does that even mean?” He scoffed.

“YOU ASKED ME OUT,” You almost screamed. “You asked me out to get more dirt on me!”

“No,  I didn’t I--” He tried to deny it.

“Bullshit! Then what the fuck is this?!”  You shook the phone at him. “God I can’t believe I felt bad for-- GOD you’re such a--”

“Oh no no no, don’t even. I didn’t sleep with you and steal your property,” He acted like he was the victim once again.

“Yeah, because I didn’t give you the chance!” You were fuming.

“Look I didn’t even get that information, okay? Liv did. She did a whole background check on you when she thought I was interested in you...MONTHS ago. And I never even looked at it!” He tried explaining everything away. Nothing was ever his fault. 

“But you kept it. Just in case,” You narrowed your eyes.

“Well obviously I’m glad I did,” He bit back.

“God...Olivia,” You scoffed. “You know she’s the only reason we’re in this,” You rolled your eyes at that stupid woman. 

“Excuse me?”

“I wanted to go out with you for REAL, Rafael. Which clearly was never on your agenda,” You stomped your heel. 

“Oh come on that’s--” He shook his head.

“Yeah, and then not only did you embarrass the fuck out of me, then your little bitch called Buchanan and TOLD ON US,” You spat. The whole thing was enough to set you on fire, if she hadn’t butt in at all you would be in Rafael’s arms right now and not having it out in the middle of the street.

“...She what?” His voice went soft again; he didn’t even correct you on calling her a bitch.

“Yeah, turns out she thought I was trying to “coerce” you to my side, or that’s what she told Buchanan,” You spat. “And THEN, and ONLY then, did Buchanan come to me and threaten my god damn JOB and CAREER unless I got those receipts!”

“He...he threatened you…?” Rafael’s head was spinning. Had you really cared about him this whole time?

“YES, and-- and you know what is the WORST part of all of this?” You shook your head and laughed bitterly.

“What--? He looked afraid of the answer.

“I KEPT THE RECEIPTS,” You yelled, feeling yourself about to breakdown.

“What do you mean, you kept the receipts?” He asked with concern.

“I took this last night,” You pulled the USB you swiped from your blazer pocket. “And--And after I sat there, I let you-- I--- and then you called me ‘mi amor’, and I--” Your mind was running a mile a minute, you couldn’t finish a thought.

“I did what?” He stared at you in shock. 

“You don’t even remember that,” You scoffed angrily “Of course you don’t. You didn’t fucking mean it, I knew that,” 

“I….I…” Rafael’s eyes went back and forth as his mind was racing, trying to figure out exactly what he had said out loud last night and what he had dreamed of.

“And I felt SO BAD, so bad, and I thought that I--that we---” You were still reeling, you couldn’t believe this was happening. 

“Y/N…” Rafael’s face was apologetic now but you were done. 

“I made copies of the receipts and I put them on this USB and I was going to give it back to you, and then you could just tell Buchanan that you had made copies and saved them beforehand, and I didn’t get my hands on it. Because I didn’t give it to him, Rafael. I saved it and I was going to save YOU,” You were full on having a breakdown, tears were falling down your face. Rafael’s face fell completely and he reached for you.

“Y/N I am so--”

“NO!!!!” You jerked away from him. “You played me! I can’t believe all the bullshit you gave me, all the guilt I felt, the feelings I thought--”

“I didn’t play you Y/N I swear to you, I asked you out because I--” He grabbed your hands this time. “I really did like you, I DO like you,” 

“No, I’m not listening to any of your bullshit of what I ‘felt’ or some sappy bullshit, not for one more second,” You ripped away from him and started to storm off; But you were going to show him once and for all who was the heartless one. 

“And you know what, counselor? Congratulations, you outplayed the best of the best. Well done. Here’s your prize,” You threw the USB at him and stormed off, leaving him speechless.

---- 

You stomped back inside and went straight to the family bathroom nearby, locking it behind you just before you broke down crying. Your phone began buzzing wildly, “RAFAEL” flashed on your screen. IGNORE.

It rang again, and again and again. You finally picked it up and screamed “LEAVE ME ALONE,” and hung up. 

Why did you give him that USB? Now you were going to lose your job on top of everything else.

You finally composed yourself long enough to make it back to your desk, where Buchanan was waiting. 

“Ah, Y/L/N, So I just got a very...interesting call from Barba,” He gave you a look.

“I’m sure you did,” you thought to yourself. “Oh?” You asked out loud.

“Yes it turns out, that he had those receipts on a backup USB he had at his office,” He said in an accusatory tone.

“Oh. That’s unfortunate,” You did your best to keep cool.

“It is, and also very peculiar. Seeing as he was so upset when he came over here, acting like he didn’t have a chance,” He kept his suspicious tone.

“He probably just forgot he had it at the office, you know on the account of being drugged last night and all,” You rolled your eyes.

“I’m  sorry, what?” John’s eyes perked up.

“A quarter of a hydrocodone, he’s fine,” You waved it off. “Probably made him foggy though,”

“Uh huh...I’m sure,” He nodded. “And about those photos…”

“Oh, don’t count on it,” You shook your head as you handed him your phone.

“Oh, damn Y/L/N,” He chuckled. “Seems that ADA really took you for a ride, didn’t he? Maybe I overestimated you,” That hit so much harder right now, and he knew it. 

“Just...I’m sorry, okay?” You looked at the floor in shame.

“Well, you did your best there, my little shark,” He nodded to the plushie as he walked away. You picked it up and tossed it into the trash as you did your best not to burst into tears again.

------

Meanwhile across town, Barba was storming into Olivia Benson’s office at the NYPD.

“What is your problem, Olivia?” He barked.

“Excuse me?” Olivia was floored that Rafael would yell at her like this.

“Liv look, I know that we’re best friends, and we’ve known each other a long time but--- I’m not yours,” He sighed.

“I’m sorry?” She acted oblivious.

“You know what I’m talking about,”

“I really don’t--”

“Y/N, Olivia,” Barba cut her off.

“What about her?”

“The background check? The little phone call to Buchanan?” He asked angrily.

“Wha-- how are you going to be mad at me for being right about her?” She scoffed.

“YOU WEREN’T RIGHT,” He yelled while throwing his hands up in the air.

“Were you or were you not just in here ranting about how she just slept with you to get that evidence?” Olivia crossed her arms. 

“And she gave it back,” He held out the USB. 

“...Why would she do that?” Olivia was still lost.

“Because she cares about me, Olivia! But because of you, I’m pretty sure I’ll never get her trust back,” He yelled in frustration.

“No, no that can’t be right. She must have an angle,” Olivia persisted.

“Why, because the only one allowed to care about me is you?” Rafael asked coldly. 

“That is--” Olivia shook her head, not believing he had just gone there.

“Look, Liv I haven’t wanted to have this conversation because your friendship is so important to me,” He softened his voice. “But...that’s it. Our friendship,”

“Wow, Rafa. Wow I cannot believe you just come in here and start yelling at me, and start lecturing me on what our relationship is. Are you really that full of yourself?!” She was pissed now.

“Liv, we both know that’s why--”

“I was looking after you as a FRIEND, jackass,” She scoffed. “And anyway, why do you care so much all of a sudden? A week ago she was the devil to you! Now you’re in love with her?”

“I’m not---I don’t---” Rafael tried to find the words. “I could have, Liv. I really could have,”

“....I really am sorry, Rafael,” Olivia went and put her hand over his, and he let her. He looked up at her with soft eyes, finally letting a small smile form.

“I know you are,” He pulled her close and kissed her forehead. 

Maybe it wasn’t meant to be, maybe he should just quit fighting it. Maybe he could be happy with Olivia, he was never going to get you back now anyway.

Was he?

------

*A Month Later*

You were working late again, it seemed like lately all you did was work. You practically slept in your office these days. A few of your co-workers passed by laughing and chatting.

“Hey, Y/L/N, what are you doing? It’s a holiday!”

“Halloween hardly qualifies as a holiday Spencer,” You rolled your eyes. “It’s just an excuse for kids to load up on candy and adults to load up on booze,” 

“Exactly!” Kyra, the young intern, chimed in. Of course the guys were trying to get her to go ‘party’ with them. 

“Aw come on, we’re gonna go crash the NYPD’s Halloween Bash,” Your third co-worker Greg added.

“.....Really?” You asked with a sly smile, the wheels in your head were turning. 

“Oh yeah, their chief always gets the good booze,” Spencer laughed. “You’re gonna need a costume though,” 

“Oh I’ve got just the costume…” You smirked while logged off your laptop and grabbed your briefcase,

You’d show the whole NYPD just who was the fairest of them all….

[mediaevalmusereads]

When A Scot Ties the Knot. By Tessa Dare. New York: Avon Books, 2015.

Rating: 3/5 stars

Genre: historical romance

Part of a Series? Yes, Castles Ever After #3

Summary: On the cusp of her first London season, Miss Madeline Gracechurch was shyly pretty and talented with a drawing pencil, but hopelessly awkward with gentlemen. She was certain to be a dismal failure on the London marriage mart. So Maddie did what generations of shy, awkward young ladies have done: she invented a sweetheart. A Scottish sweetheart. One who was handsome and honorable and devoted to her, but conveniently never around. Maddie poured her heart into writing the imaginary Captain MacKenzie letter after letter … and by pretending to be devastated when he was (not really) killed in battle, she managed to avoid the pressures of London society entirely. Until years later, when this kilted Highland lover of her imaginings shows up in the flesh. The real Captain Logan MacKenzie arrives on her doorstep—handsome as anything, but not entirely honorable. He’s wounded, jaded, in possession of her letters… and ready to make good on every promise Maddie never expected to keep.

***Full review under the cut.***

Content Warnings: graphic sexual content, blood, violence

Overview: I came across this book while doing research for a blog post on Scottish fetishization in romance. While writing the post, I encountered YouTuber Jean Bookishthoughts’s video “ An Actual Scot Reads Highlander Romances,” and she gave this novel a fairly positive review. So I decided “why not? I’ve got nothing better to do.” Overall, the premise of this book was really enticing - the idea of a woman writing letters to a fictional sweetheart only to have a flesh-and-blood man show up at her door is quite the setup. I also think Dare does a good job of writing humor and moving the narrative along. But I ultimately couldn’t give this book more than 3 stars for a number of reasons: for one, the main crux of the plot felt like it could have been a bit more robust. Two, I didn’t find Logan to be a very interesting character. And three, some of the random “Highlander” references felt cheesy.

Writing: Dare writes prose that is quick, witty, and humorous. I very much enjoyed the jokes and the banter between our protagonists, and I appreciated that Dare didn’t get bogged down in some of the details of day-to-day life. If I had any criticisms, it would be that I think Dare moves almost too quickly at times. Some of the more emotional moments could have used some room to breathe or some more description of how the characters’ emotions are faring. But it wasn’t so bad that I felt like I was being rushed through the novel. Another way of putting is may be that sometimes Dare told where she could have shown, but the balance of telling vs showing didn’t feel egregiously off.

Plot: This plot mainly follows our heroine, Maddie, and our hero, Logan, as they try to work out an agreement. Maddie, in the attempt to avoid going on the marriage mart, invented a sweetheart at age 16 and wrote letters to a “fictional” Scottish captain in the army for years. Unbeknownst to her, the letters were actually being received by Logan, and when he and his men come home from the war, Logan is determined to marry Maddie in order to get her land in Invernesshire.

Personally, I found this setup to be quite intriguing and whimsical. I liked the embarrassment that arose from Maddie’s letters actually being received and read. I liked that Logan secretly looked forward to the letters from a stranger. I even liked the dilemma of negotiating a marriage of convenience. But I think where this plot fell apart for me was the whole challenge of consummating the marriage. Logan and Maddie agree to marry and live separate lives (it’s early on, so this isn’t really a spoiler), but Logan is adamant about consummating the marriage so that there’s no possibility of an annulment. Maddie, for her part, wants to avoid consummating the marriage because she finds that marriage will threaten her career prospects; as an illustrator, she finds that men will not hire her for work if they think household or parenting duties will interrupt her work schedule. To be completely honest, this challenge was quite good; I thought there was a real opportunity here for Dare to explore the sexist challenges women face in the workplace. Where I thought the challenge was weak was in the whole obsession with consummation. Unless there was such hostility between the Scottish and the English that an Englishwoman’s word would always be taken over a Scotsman’s, I found the question of “did they actually have sex or not” to be quite trivial. From what I know, annulments were notoriously difficult to obtain, so it wouldn’t matter much if Maddie and Logan had consummated the marriage. It seems like Logan could just say they did and an annulment would be near impossible. Nor do I think the law would care much if they only had non-penetrative sex. It seems like the whole plot hinging on whether or not they had “real sex” was a non-issue for me.

Instead, I would have liked to see more conflict in Maddie between balancing her desires for romance and a family with her career aspirations. Once Logan enters the picture, it seems like her career takes a backseat (except for a couple of scenes), and I would have rather seen it be more front and center. Either that or I think Maddie’s story could have mirrored her aunt’s more closely. Maddie’s Aunt Thea was long ago caught up in a scandal that ruined her, but later, Thea reveals that she had enjoyed the freedom. I think having Maddie be independent and struggle with the idea of being “tied down” by marriage could have also been good, and while there’s a little of that, I think it could have been more apparent to the reader.

In terms of small-scale narrative points, I think a lot of the scenes Dare writes are very funny and entertaining. I liked, for instance, the scene where Maddie falls into a bog, or when Maddie shows kindness to Logan’s friend, Grant. The scenes that truly did bother me, however, were some of the more “fluffy” ones that were a bit too cheesy for my tastes. For example, there’s a scene in which Maddie finds Logan reading Pride and Prejudice and he’s wearing spectacles. She makes a big deal about him being a reader and I had to roll my eyes. There’s also a scene towards the end in which Maddie attempts to make haggis, and I hated it because it felt like it was inserted so Dare could check off a “Scottishism” in a list. Tartan? Check. Brogue? Check. Haggis? Check. The scene also erupted in random violence, too, which felt out-of-place and inserted for pointless drama towards the end of the novel.

But I will admit, I did like the scenes that were very self-aware about what Dare was doing. For example, there’s a scene in which Logan is debating about what to do to get Maddie into bed. His friends give him suggestions like “offer your heart to her on a platter” or “throw in a lot of oochs and bonny lasses when you speak” or “dive into the loch and have her go looking for you. Then, when she’s found you, pretend you don’t notice her and have her watch you bathe for a while. Then emerge from the lock all dripping wet.” This self-awareness was a nice stab at romance cliches, though I wish Dare had done a better job herself at avoiding them.

Characters: Maddie, our heroine, is fairly likeable in that she’s bookish, generous, and a bit clumsy at times. I liked that there was a juxtaposition between her confidence and her social anxiety: while she wasn’t afraid to assert herself in some situations, big crowds made her nervous, and I think navigating those two scenarios made for some interesting characterization. The main thing I didn’t like about Maddie was how quickly she seemed to give up her career ambitions for Logan. There’s a point where she has to make a choice between letting Logan go and following her dreams, and she claims that she’s choosing Logan even though the choice is really made for her based on sexist norms of the day. I would have liked to see her wrestle with her ambitions a little more.

Logan, our hero, has some admirable qualities, but in the end, I found him rather uninteresting. He’s your basic roguish Scotsman with a tragic past, and though I liked the loyalty he showed to his men, I ultimately though he was a little too jealous and a little too used to his orders being obeyed. I would have liked to see him be a little less dictatorial so that his romantic appeal would shine through a bit more brightly.

Side characters are charming but, in my opinion, underutilized. I liked all of Logan’s army buddies and appreciated that all of them had disabilities in some way (and those disabilities were important but didn’t define them). I really appreciated Maddie’s relationship with Grant, the soldier whose memory resets every hour or so. She was kind to him and he was sweet to her; I just didn’t think his random violent outburst towards the end was necessary or in-character. Maddie’s Aunt Thea could have also been used more effectively, but I did like that Thea had this quirk of making a lot of cosmetics and remedies that were, ultimately, rubbish. It was charming.

Romance: Logan and Maddie’s romance was... ok. The premise started out really interesting, but over time, I lost some enthusiasm because I felt like I was being told that they had feelings for each other (rather than being shown). Sure, Logan does some things that challenge Maddie’s assumptions and vice versa, but I wanted them to have a stronger basis for a romance than just “they’re hot and I’m horny oh wait they were nice to me and aren’t exactly what I expected.” Part of the reason I wasn’t super enthused might also be the focus on sex and sexual attraction as well as Maddie feeling pity for Logan on account of his past. I prefer romances where the focus is on each person lifting the other up emotionally, and while there was a little of that, I think I would have liked to see it be more of a centerpiece within the plot.

TL;DR: When a Scot Ties the Knot is a funny, light, historical romance, but ultimately doesn’t have a “meaty” enough plot for my personal tastes. Some readers might enjoy the banter and the heroine’s determination, while others might be turned off by the cheesiness and lack of a complex hero.

[k-writer1998]

Runaway

Prompt fic: runaway! felix x princess! y/n

fluff

w.c: 2.2k

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

“What’s a princess doing climbing the palace wall? I’m pretty sure you have doors.”

      The voice immediately registered in my mind and I rolled my eyes as I gave the voice’s owner a smile that matched his own toothy grin. His golden locks caught the sunlight making them stand out against his tanned skin.

“Doors are for people with permission to leave Felix. I, on the other hand, am running away unless you want to kidnap me instead.”

“Why are you like this? You ask me to kidnap you every time I see you, being kidnapped isn't something a princess should be asking for.”

In the distance, the sound of steps on cobblestone grew closer. After sharing a glance, I quickly grab Felix’s outreached hand as he pulls me into the tree he was perched on.

“We can discuss the finer details in town or you can watch me leave. Either way I don’t want to stay in the palace right now and the guards are coming,” I whispered.

      Letting out a sigh he pulled me along and we completed our escape.We were talking as the town came into sight when Felix suddenly pulled up the hood of my cloak.. My lips tugged into a grateful smile as a soft thank you fell from my mouth. Felix was so much like a gentleman I almost forget he’s wanted, even the townspeople seemed to forget. The blacksmith Changbin and the stable boy Jisung, two of the fiercest villagers, along with the mayor’s son Hyunjin and the florist’s son Jeongin greet Felix as if they were best friends.

“How is it that you are a wanted criminal yet the town treats you like royalty?”

“Huh, what? Royalty? What? Why would you say that?”

“Because everyone loves you even when your wanted poster is hanging right here?”

      Coincidentally we walked past the town notice board where the poster in question hung. I’ve never heard father talk about it but suddenly one day it was there so I never caught wind of what exactly Felix did to become wanted. There were rumors, but they are far too vast and many don't match the boy I've grown to know.

"It's probably because the poster looks nothing like me."

"Felix… they have you down to the freckles."

"Oh! Do you smell that? It seems the bakery just finished a fresh batch."

      It was always like this, Felix avoids topics about the poster and about his life. He’s never around long enough for me to figure out anyways. I've hinted at his past a few times but he always seemed to find a way around it. My eyes followed the movement of the boy as he happily spoke with the baker's son, Seungmin. He has a friendly disposition and a smile that’s like a burst of serotonin but the way he carries himself is almost… regal. I’ve observed him over the span of a few months and the more I learn the more mystery surrounds him. One thing is certain though he’s good at hiding what he wants to keep hidden. Soon Felix exited the shop with a single loaf of bread looking pleased with himself as he broke me half. Starting our stroll once again, I silently followed Felix’s lead, still stuck in my earlier thought, as I picked at my bread until his velvet voice broke me from my thoughts.

“So are you gonna tell me about these “finer details” you mentioned earlier?”

“Ugh…” I sigh as I give him a side eye he returns with a patient smile, “My coronation is coming up soon and one of the traditions is announcing my engagement, the only problem is I don’t have a fiancé.”

“I’m assuming the king has tried to find you one and you’ve refused them all?”

“Well father calls it “scaring them off” but besides the point. The problem lies with time. It’s decided the next suitor will be my fiancé, there just isn’t any more time in this matter.”

      Minus a few furrowed brows, Felix was actually taking this better than I thought. Not many outsiders understand the workings of royal society. He took a moment as he weighed over his next question before he asked.

“So are you really running away?”

“Although I do joke with you to kidnap me, I do know better you know. It’s for the future of my country and as crown princess I have to make choices others don’t,” I smiled.

      What more could I do? There would be no gain from revealing my true feelings anyways. Felix seemed lost in thought, most likely trying to process all of this so after a moment I gave him a little nudge. He turned to me with a smile and his eyes seemed to soften. Usually I would hate a look like that from anyone, but just for today and because it was Felix, I took it.

“C’mon don’t be a downer, there is still half a day’s adventure waiting for us.”

      We went back on the main street looking about the shops and even played a bit with the children in town. Before we headed back our final stop was Minho’s restaurant. The food was amazing but I expected nothing less from the palace cook’s son. Felix excused himself for a moment, leaving me to my thoughts. I can’t explain it but the air around him has changed.

“You like him don’t you?”

“OH- shouldn’t you be in the kitchen?” I gasp as I look at Minho sitting in Felix’s seat.

“Yes but I am the owner so I can do what I want and you never answered my question.”

“Wipe that cheeky smile off. Being my childhood friend doesn’t mean you know me,” I huff.

“That’s not why I asked but also another valid point. I’ve seen lots of people come through my restaurant y/n, I can tell when someone has a crush.”

“Well whatever the case it doesn’t matter anyways. Didn’t your mom tell you what’s been going on in the palace lately?”

“You may not think it matters but who knows, maybe it matters enough to change something.”

      Before I could argue with him, he ran back to the kitchen with a mysterious smile and moments later Felix came back. After dinner we had to start the unavoidable walk back to the palace. Once the front gates were coming into sight, Felix pulled me to a halt. I knew he wouldn’t be able to walk me all the way back but he was never one for goodbyes. He would usually disappear and I wouldn't notice until moments later. Why the sudden change in habit? There was a careful look on his face and it made me nervous, it was rare to see him so serious and a first during goodbye.

"Hey, don't be like this. It almost makes me want to really run away with you," I tried joking.

“Can I ask you something?”

“By all means.”

“If I was a prince would I pass your test?”

“Felix you are one of the few people willing to put up with my temperament and can easily keep up with me. If you were a prince you would be my first pick.”

      I wasn’t going to speak my true feelings but with that expectant look on his face, I couldn’t help but be honest. Although this parting weighed on me the more we extended this goodbye, he looked content with my answer. Not wanting to be the only one thrown off, I emptied my mind and let instinct take over. Pulling him down, I kissed his cheek before running off to the main gate. It wasn’t until the guards were escorting me back into the palace did I dare to look back and of course there was no trace of him… Being scolded in the study made me realize, I may have accepted my fate but it didn’t mean I wouldn’t be petty about it.

“You know, have you ever thought as to why I’ve rejected every suitor you brought forth? They’ve either belittled my intelligence or overestimated their power in this union.”

“My daughter, you're my everything! I’ve handpicked the most suitable of the royals for you. You are being too critical on these princes.”

“Wow, didn’t know that’s how ‘I’m sorry’ sounds these days.”

“Y/n, I’m sorry… I truly am but you know you are running out of time, we cannot delay anymore.”

“You only care that I’m crowned, not taking into account that I will have to entrust our kingdom to whatever prick comes next let alone live with him.”

“Y/n please-”

“Don’t worry father, I’ve come to terms with this decision. I will have a fiancé by the end of the month. I’m tired from my outing, I will return to my chambers now.”

      Aside from my head hurting from that conversation with my father, my mind couldn’t help but worry about Felix. Ever since telling him I was to be engaged soon, he seemed… off for the rest of the day. Through the next few weeks of preparations, meetings, and dress fittings Felix has yet to leave my mind. It’s normal for him to disappear for periods of time but there was something final about our last goodbye and it doesn’t settle well with me.

“Princess?”

“Sorry, I got distracted by the beautiful flowers. I’ve had little time to enjoy the garden like this recently.”

      I smiled at the prince beside me as I internally sighed. Curse my stupid heart for making this harder than it already is. The fourth prince of the Western Valley, although born so far down the succession line he is still ambitious yet seems to overestimate his own intelligence compared to his competitors.

“You must be uncomfortable. Although eloquent with your words, very few have expressed your desire to be here.”

“We never spoke much so I’m a bit awkward, even more so with this strange setting.”

“Strange? I thought it to be normal for royals to get married for political reasons.”

“Ah, yes. That it is true… that is what this is,” I reply flatly.

“Princess y/n that doesn’t mean we cannot grow to love each other. I will be a competent hus-”

      Typical how boring.

“Let’s be frank. You are no more interested in me than you are in the flowers here. What you’re interested in are the benefits gained from this union. I am aware of most situations going on in other kingdoms along with my own. You seem to have underestimated my intelligence if you think I don’t know your true motives.”

“Princess you are overstepping,” he growled as he grabbed my wrist and pulled me close enough to hiss in my ear, “regardless of how you may feel towards me you have no say but agree, isn’t that right?���

“I advise you to unhand me at once. You may be my only option but with this kind of behavior I would rather marry a pig,” I spat.

      His grip began to burn as I struggled against it but no sooner was it there that it was ripped from my arm. Between prince Jacob and I stood none other than the boy that has plagued my mind. While still holding onto Jacob’s arm, he grabbed my hand and moved me behind him defensively. He seemed different, there was an air of authority around him and a fierceness I’ve never seen before.

“Hope I’m not late, princess.”

“What a no good second prince like you doing here?” 

“I could ask the same to a little fourth prince like you.”

      Prince? What is he on about? The two boys glared at each other, neither relenting in this power struggle although it was blatantly obvious who had the upper hand here. It wasn’t until I heard Father’s voice booming from the archway did Felix let go and take a step back.

“What is the meaning of this?!”

“I’m Prince Felix, second prince of the Southern Isles, and I’ve come to ask for your daughter’s hand in marriage.”

“What insolence-”

“I accept!” I cut my father off. He sputters at me and I roll my eyes, “You should have no reason to reject father. I have a fiancé, as promised, and it’s one I’ve chosen for myself.” 

      Father nearly faints into his advisor’s arms at my response as prince Jacob storms off in embarrassment. Although this will cause quite a political uproar my only focus is the boy standing next to me with his sunny smile and adorable freckles I know and love.

“If you’re a prince why have I never bumped into you before?”

“I always left those political events to my older brother crown prince Chan.”

“Well now that you’re my fiancé you better get used to those events,” I laugh before adding, “Are there any other big secrets you wanna tell me since apparently everything is coming out now?”

“Hmmm, being a prince is the only big one,” he teased.

“Then how about we start small, like your wanted poster?”

“My father doesn’t appreciate that I like to travel so he notified all the neighboring kingdoms to keep an eye out for me.”

“So I’m guessing you run away often?”

“I did but recently whenever I ran I always somehow ended up here,” he answered cheekily as he stepped closer to me.

“Well now that you’ve admitted you enjoy your time here, I’m not letting you go anymore,” I respond as I wrap my arms around his neck.

“Lucky me.”

[sadienita]

GOT7 Mark pleeease~~~ 🙏🙏. Do you accept songs that aren't kpop? If yes, then I'd like to request a line from Getsunova's Fake Protagonist: " I'm aware that I could never even compare with someone that you have in your heart" It's originally a Thai song but this line is from the english version of the song. It's a pretty sad song so maybe some angsty imagine 😁😁. Hope you read this request. Thank you so much!!!🥰🥰

Mark Tuan x Reader

Genre: Angst

 Word Count: 777

Note: This was a really interesting one. I found I really enjoyed the song. I don’t write a lot of angst but at least I got the genre right lmao Roo can atest to the fact that I will try to make angst and end up with horror. Thank you so much for sending one in!

Song Blurb Game

Fake Protagonist (English Version) - Getsunova

You knew this was a breaking point. You knew it. You just didn’t want to believe it. Some part of you really believed it was easier to ignore all the signs that Mark wasn’t in love with you. You desperately wanted to believe that there was some other reason for the way his smile never reached his eyes when he was with you. You wanted to think there was some other reason he pulled his fingers free from yours as you walked. You hoped with every last fiber of your being that there was something you could do to have him back.

Maybe that was a fallacy too though. Had he ever really been yours? You both knew that you were never the one he had had in mind. You could ignore how quickly he had asked you out after his last relationship had ended. You could excuse the similarities between you and his ex because there were a lot of differences too. He didn’t talk about them all the time. He barely mentioned them unless the topic of past relationships came up. And it seemed like a good thing, that he didn’t have many bad things to say.

But the more he healed, the less he paid you any attention. Maybe there was some fault to find in your own actions. You started to hold on tighter the more he pulled away. Maybe if you had given him more space, been more relaxed about it, maybe he wouldn’t be so distant from you now.

You watched as he made his way out the door, smiling at his phone, no doubt texting them. It wasn’t that he was cheating. He told you when he was heading out a lot of the time. If you casually asked who he was with he was honest. And was never out late or missing dates. So he wasn't cheating, though some twisted part of you almost wished he was.

If he was cheating you could at least be angry. If he was cheating you could be hurt. You could scream and cry and throw pillows and break down and it would all be justified. But Mark was perfectly fine. He was still nice, he was still accountable, he was still honest.

But his heart was no longer there.

Should it have felt more like a cleansing ritual, taking all of you belongings back? The toothbrush and toothpaste and shower items you had left in his bathroom. The spare clothes you had in one of his drawers. One of your water bottles from the number of times you had gone to work from his place or gone over as soon as you were done. You didn’t want to call it cleansing, it felt like tearing bits of yourself out. With every item you picked up and placed in your bag you left a shred of your heart in its place. 

It broke every last part of your soul to know that all you were doing was setting him free. He had no good reason to break up with you but his heart was never yours and the longer you pretended it was the more you hurt yourself. 

It was dumb not to cry. No one was there to see you, no one would know, but some part of yourself held back. As if not crying would hold you together any better. As if you weren’t falling apart as you sat at his kitchen table where you had shared so many sweet moments writing a goodbye, writing the thing that would give his heart what it wanted too loudly for either of you to ignore any longer. 

You stayed longer than you needed to. It wasn’t as if staying and looking around, stalling, as if any of that would give you something you could never have. You fretted over where to leave the letter before placing it on his pillow and grabbing the last of your things.

You thought about romantic movies, where the girl leaves. Where she’s fed up. And where the man comes in with this big romantic gesture to sweep her off her feet. Because he realizes she’s the love of his life and he just didn’t figure that out until he lost her. He needed a push to run after her, to prove it.

You locked the door behind you and left the key under the mat where he told you to find it the first time. There would be no big romantic gesture. He wouldn’t come and sweep you off your feet. He wouldn’t realize you were the love of his life.

Because Mark never truly loved you.

[otomates-a]

galaxiasus asked: A deino nibbling on his hair, then again he's asking for it when he's just lying on his bed and watching Raihan mess with his things. There's the usual softness that came from this, but there was also something else as he thinks. "So.." He starts before he could stop it, he may as well continue. "Why me?" Maybe he should've stopped earlier, he lets out a forced laugh at his own words. "I ain't complaining, just wondering. Why you were so stubborn to be with me and not.. hm, anyone else?" - piers

@galaxiasus​ ↪ UNPROMPTED!

               He doesn’t expect him to be the one to break the silence. Usually, when it came to the both of them, Raihan is the one that lets it build up until he can’t take it anymore. He’s never been the quiet type, always preferring to keep his energy up, though he knows there’s a time and place for it. He’d figured this was one of those times, but the telltale hesitance in the others voice as he reluctantly seems to speak up captures his attention and shatters any resolve he’d had to let him rest in the quiet. The flowers he’d been thumbing at are momentarily abandoned, his teeth releasing his bottom lip he’d been biting down on to keep from smiling like an idiot when he’s been well aware that Piers had been watching him this entire time. He would’ve commented on it, if he weren’t sure that doing so would make him look away  —  he likes it too much. Briefly, his attention shifts to the deino eating at the gym leader’s hair and he let’s out a rushed breath that could’ve been a laugh if he’d not been restraining himself.

               “Hmm? Don’t often get to hear the quiet broken by you,”  he points it out, raising an eyebrow in silent inquiry, though the accusing tone behind his voice is just a tease. He taps his fingers against the dresser, taking note of the scrunchies he could see scattered here and there among the notebooks and pens, before abandoning his venture in curiosity to walk back towards him. He stops by the bed and kneels down beside it, crossing his arms over the mattress so he can rest his chin atop them and stare up at Piers. This is an angle he only gets every couple blue moons and it’s a shame, really. Seeing him propped up on his elbow like this with all his messy hair falling down in every direction, he thinks it might be worth getting down on the floor more often. He’s prettier than given credit for.

               When he finally pushes forward, however, Raihan’s playful attitude disappears almost as quickly as it’d come. Something in itself that’s extremely rare : very few ever got to see him when his telltale smug smirk faded from his lips and the mirthful look in his eyes turned serious.  “Why you,”  he repeats, shifting so that he’s resting his cheek against his arms now, head turned away from Piers as he gazes at nothing in particular. The reaction may be a bit out of the ordinary even to him, in all honesty. Normally he would meet any question like this with some kind of teasing to it, but the longer silence stretches on, the more clear it becomes he has no intention of doing that. He knows it’s not a great way to go about it, because it’s hard to tell whether he’s upset or just thinking when he gets like this, but he can’t help it.

               Stubborn is definitely one way to put it. There aren’t many people that would chase after someone for a year and a half after they didn’t seem to even understand the advances being made towards them, or at least he likes to think so. And yet, here he is, even though he’d been asked out plenty of times before and after that point in time. Why him... Out of everyone, why him? Previously just some weird, broody guy who spent most his time locked up in Spikemuth, waiting for challengers that rarely ever came because they hardly ever made it far enough to reach either of them. The most he’d known about him for a while was that he had a little sister and Team Yell liked to put on a show for the people who did make it far enough to take on the dark gym. He rarely ever talked about anything interesting in interviews, except for music. All he did was mope around and make it seem as if he was one step above everyone else for not Dynamaxing during his battles.

               That’s what he’d thought for a while, anyways, before he’d ever taken time to get to know him. He’s not a saint. He’d be lying if he tried to say he hadn’t had unflattering thoughts about most of the leaders who had become his friends over all these years. Piers is hardly exempt from that. In his youth, he’d been much more brazen. Judgmental. Liked to see himself as above others, took other viewpoints as a stab at his pride, so on. Logically speaking, there’s no way someone like that would’ve ever looked at someone like this. And yet...

               “I dunno,”  he answers after a while, his eyes narrowing as he zones in on a specific spot of the wall. It takes him a moment to elaborate, because he knows answering like that can be seen as insulting, but that isn’t his intention. He’s clearly lost in his own thoughts, trying to sift through feelings he’s not particularly accustomed to.  “’Cuz you were you.”  It feels like a cop-out to say it like that, but he doesn’t know any other way to word it. Working up a crowd, putting on a show, making good content for online : he was good at all of that stuff. But entertaining the masses doesn’t go hand in hand with being eloquent. All he can really do is try.  “It took a while for me to get comfortable with where I’m at. I always wanted to run after my popularity, be exactly what everyone else wanted me to be. I craved the acceptance that came with being in the spotlight, y’know? Took Leon knocking me down a few pegs before I realized trying to be better than everyone was pretty lonely. Just made me look like a real wanker. I felt pretty stupid once I stopped worrying and realized all my hard work wasn’t going anywhere. Fans still stuck around and all that.”

               He hadn’t been at the worst of it for quite some time now. Piers hadn’t known him personally during those days and in all honesty, he’s most thankful for that. He’s not sure he could’ve ever recovered his reputation with him if he had. He’s glad as far as the other leaders, too, of course, but none of them are quite as essential to his existence as he is.

               Inhaling, he finally pushes himself up to sit on the bed next to Piers. He can see the other tense up, probably expecting an ambush in that moment, which causes a small smile to quirk Raihan’s lips, but he doesn’t take the bait. Instead, he reaches a hand out to press his palm to his forehead, then pushes back his hair so it’s out of his face. Piers looks an absolute mess. As if he hasn’t slept in ten years, like he’s never been to a high end storefront in his entire life, and honestly, he thinks if he tried to lift a weight he might be at serious risk of keeling over. He doesn’t have a single social media account. He’s pretty sure that he’s never taken a selfie that wasn’t forced upon him, mostly likely by he, himself. Really, he’s the caricature for those quiet, emo kids who sat in the back of class and never said anything unless they were forced to. He’s every single thing that Raihan could never be. Loud, energetic, strong, talkative, confident, smug him.

               “You’ve never been like that. You were always locked away in Spikemuth, having fun with what you were doing, even though you don’t always have confidence in yourself or the gym you run. You surrounded yourself with family and friends, made this place your own and ran with it. Used to think you were annoying as hell, honestly. I always wondered how someone could be right below me in the gym ranking and still whine about their gym not being that great. I’d wonder what kind of tosser had the nerve to be that close to me and not have the same kind of confidence I did.”  It’s the fact he sounds so reflective, his tone of voice warm  —  as if he’s thinking back on Piers fondly, that keeps him from being too concerned that he’s shoving his head up his ass being this honest. Maybe it’s a bit harsh to say all that, but he sees purpose behind it. Can’t really appreciate where they are now if Piers doesn’t even know where they started.

               He drops his hand down to take hold of his, leaning so that his forehead is resting against his shoulder now. The position’s a little awkward, sure, but he’s not planning on staying that way for long. Just needs a minute.  “You’re a musician. You know that feeling when, like ... you don’t really enjoy a song at first ... you think it’s sorta weird, but you keep listening to it anyways, because even though you think it’s annoying, there’s something about it that you gotta keep hearing? And then the more you listen to it, the more it ... grows on you. Eventually, without even realizing it, it’s one of your favorite songs now. Don’t even know how the hell you got there, but you did, ‘cuz something hooked you and the moment it did, it was over.”  It’s a really stupid analogy, but he’s grasping.  “You’re friggin’ weird, Piers. You and I really shouldn’t have much in common at all, but we do and what we don’t, I’ve taken an interest in. Being forced to be around you for gym stuff changed things. I stopped being annoyed, I started getting curious about your whole ... thing.”  He lifts his head and uses his free hand to gesture at ... all of him, vaguely.  “And when I get curious, I get determined. So I started looking out for you and learning about you.”

               He pauses, reaching up to rub his cheek with his thumb. He’s not embarrassed to be admitting all of this. He never gets flustered, really, but that doesn’t mean he’s used to being so open. For a guy who often put himself front and center to be judged by thousands and thousands of people, he really isn’t used to this kind of ... pressure. He’d brought it upon himself, he’d made it this intimate, and it is what it is now, but ... he might be a tad bit awkward, in the end. Not shy, not unsure, just ... awkward.  “I was pretty rude to you for a while back then. I’m sorry about that.”  He’s not even sure if Piers would have noticed or if his underhanded, passive aggressive attitude would’ve just seemed like a well hidden part of his personality. He tries not to think about it, looking instead at the progress he’s made both in his personal social circles and in how he treats the general public and his fans now.  “But I guess you could say it just clicked, eventually. It wasn’t love at first sight. I was drawn to you because you were so different from me and the more I hung around you, the more I started realizing that I ... liked that. It wasn’t agitating at all. Actually, it was the opposite. It was easier to be around you than a bunch of screaming fans or secret admirers. All of that’s easy, right? People throwing themselves at me who don’t even know me. I had to work hard to get you to even look in my direction or give me the time of day and by time you did, I didn’t want you to hate what you saw. Having that kind of sway over me, that was new. You were suddenly important.”

               That’s really all it comes down to. He'd disliked him. He’d gotten to know him. And he’d been awed by the person he’d found in doing so.  “Things changed. Slowly, at first, then so quickly I barely had time to realize it myself before doubling down and deciding that, for once, I was gonna be the one to chase after someone.”  Even if it took him years. As much as he joked about thinking Piers had just been being dramatic, he would’ve kept trying until he’d either told him to stop or he had finally gotten his feelings through to him. He can’t say he’s disappointed about it being the latter.

               “I like your music. I like that your gym is run so differently than mine, because it makes you and Spikemuth and Team Yell a unique challenge to trainers who come through here. I like that you never cared about having a big fan base, that you were just kinda doing your own thing here. I like your messy hair and outrageous clothes. I even like how you make me shove letters in a Pelipper’s beak any time I want to talk to you because you refuse to get on social media and add me as a friend like a normal person living in the correct century.”  Raihan rolls his eyes as he says that, shifting to properly face him by crossing his legs in front of him on the bed. He glances behind him again to see Piers’ deino frozen in place, head tilted as if she’d been watching their entire conversation. A piece of his hair is still in her mouth. He clicks his tongue, then quickly dips his head down to kiss him. It’s short, for him, but not lacking in his usual fervor. When he pulls away, he licks his lips and taps his finger against them. It’s his silent way of letting him know before he leans in again that he’s not done : he isn’t going to stop, not yet.  “So, I dunno. One day, I just realized that it was gonna be you. Had to be you. ‘Cuz now that you were here, it wasn’t ever gonna be anyone else.”

[space-rangers-on-ice]

World Building and Chara Backstories!

So, this is for a lovely on Twitter, anyone who still follows me on this pretty much dead account (i love and appreciate you if you do, you da real mvps lol), so ignore this if you want :) If you still wanna follow me, you can find me, my art, and my ramblings @TheSnarkanist on Twitter <3 

So, Dominic and Casimir. Dom and Cas. My precious OC’s. Here’s their story and a bit of the world they live in! 

Before I go into detail about them though, let’s start with a bit of world building first so some stuff later makes sense! 

WORLD BUILDING!

So, in this Universe, there is a huge plethora of Gods, think Greek or Japanese Mythology style, just tons of gods everywhere! Anyway, there are two overarching categories of Gods. Elemental Gods, and Empathetic Gods. Elemental Gods (pretty self-explanatory, but will elaborate anyway lol) govern over the elements of the universe and the mortal world, such as the basics of Fire, Earth, Wind, Water, etc, as well as the broader elements such as the concepts of Dark and Light, among many others. Most of the elemental Gods tend to be more powerful than Empathetic Gods, so they make up the majority of the upper tiers of the Hierarchy of Gods. Empathetic Gods govern over human emotion. Not to say that they control how people feel, absolutely not, humans have Free Will, the Gods cannot control any humans unless absolutely dire situation requires it to keep the Universe in balance. Empathetic Gods essentially require human emotion to remain in existence, and the more people feel a certain emotion, the stronger the gods of that emotion will become. The major downside of Empathetic Gods that Elemental Gods don’t experience is that they literally rely on mortals to maintain their existence. Empathetic Gods wink into existence when a certain emotion becomes widely felt across many people, and Empathetic Gods fade from existence when a certain emotion is no longer as widely felt by people. For example, if there is war and strife, where fear, anger and hatred are the emotions running wild through the people, then gods of those emotions grow stronger, more gods of those emotions wink into existence, and gods of emotions such as happiness, love, and compassion, will begin to weaken and/or fade from existence, and the reverse is true in times of peace (think of the anime Noragami, if you’ve seen it, to get an idea of how Gods and their powers work). Due to this constant change in power among the Empathetic Gods, most of them make up the majority of the lower tier of the Hierarchy of Gods. 

And that wraps up the important aspects of my World Building to explain my OC’s and their story!

DOMINIC AND CASIMIR!

So, I’m gonna start with my problem child, Dominic AKA Dom. Below is his Godly Form!

So, Dom is 20 years old. He grew up in an orphanage after having been found wandering the streets at the estimated age of 8, with no memory of who he was or where he came from. He was an angry, closed off child, and so he bounced from foster home to foster home, nobody willing to keep a child with the issues he had. He ran with a pretty bad crowd, and spent quite a bit of his adolescence in and out of juvie. He picked up the habit of smoking cigs at 14, dropped out of school at 16, and then when he aged out of the system at 18, he began bouncing from crappy min wage job after another just to afford the crappy run down apartment he barely lives in. He developed a habit of dying his hair wild colors, and he is currently sporting purple and green (as shown above), and he has quite a few piercings as well. One thing that has remained a constant for him though, is his passion for photography. Specifically, he loves sneaking into old abandoned places and photographing them. He feels a kinship with these places that have been forsaken by the world and lost to time, just like him. He feels the need to preserve their memory, so at least one person will remember them. Because of his childhood memory loss, he obsesses over photography so that he never forgets anything ever again, it’s one of the things he fears the most. Dom is a good guy though, he has a good heart, he’s just been fucked by society and has a lot of issues to work through. He’s better since he’s grown up a bit, but he’s still pretty angry at the world and has issues with authority, he hates being told what to do. Now, how did he lose his memory exactly? Well, I won’t go into detail about how or why, because I don’t wanna spoil much, but I will give this interesting tid-bit away. Dom is actually a former Minor God of Compassion, and something happened that caused him to flee from the heavens to take refuge on Earth. He reverted his form into that of a child, locked away his powers, and erased his memories, so he would grow up as a human and forget about his Godly troubles. 

Now, for some information on Casimir AKA Cas! 

Cas is the Dragon God! The Dragon God is the God of Creation, he rules over everything within the Universe, and is the King of the Gods. He has been the current Dragon God for over a thousand years now. The Dragon God is not all-seeing and all-knowing, however, and can make mistakes just as easily as anybody. The Gods are not perfect beings by any means, though some may try to act like they are (lol). Cas is a kind and benevolent Dragon God, he treats everybody equally, and is stern when he needs to be. He is fiercely protective of those he cares about. He can be stubborn and impulsive though, and doesn’t always realize his own faults, so sometimes he has to get knocked around a bit to realize when he’s being stupid. Anyway, so poor Cas here, just being a good Dragon God, minding his own business, just trying to do his job, suddenly gets taken out by some unknown entity out of nowhere. By taken out, I mean that this strange black entity shows up randomly with no warning, steals Cas’s powers, puts him to sleep, and then basically just fucking YEETS the fucker down to Earth. And it all happens so fast that the other gods around Cas, his Inner Circle mostly, have literally no time to act and stop this entity in time, so they lose their King, but before the Dragon God’s powers can fully manifest within the entity, Cas’s Inner Circle are able to restrain and seal away the entity so that it can’t do anymore damage. Since they have no clue what it is or where it came from though, they can do nothing more but keep it sealed until they can get some information. So, the Inner Circle splits, half researching the entity, the other half trying to find their fallen King. 

That wraps up my OC’s! Now....

HOW DID THEY MEET!????

So glad you asked! So, one day, Dom snuck into an old abandoned mansion to check it out and mark some good spots to come back and photograph. So, while he was carefully picking his way through the rickety old building, he gets startled by a damn pigeon of all things! As a result, he accidentally missteps and falls through the floor to the room below. There’s no light in the room except for his dim flashlight and what little light is shining in from the hole he made above him. As the ceiling starts to collapse on him, he suddenly gets yanked out of the way by...... Cas! (Because who else would it be? Lol) Casimir has been asleep in this mansion for the last 12 years, and Dom basically falling on his face is what finally woke him! So, Dom helps Cas get out of the mansion and lets Cas stay with him for a few days while Cas brushes up on the current state of the world today, and tries to communicate someone from his Inner Circle with no success. Once Cas has his bearings, he thanks Dom for taking care of him, and goes on his way. From there, Cas uses his charm and intelligence, as well as a little bit of what small dredges of power he has left to build himself into a successful businessman (because how else are you gonna afford the lifestyle of a GOD and have the power and connections to do questionable Godly things?) and searches for a way to contact his Inner Circle to find out what happened up in the heavens and find a way to get back up there. And that’s how Dom and Cas meet!

WRAPPING UP!

Now, of course Dom and Cas will meet again and all kind of craziness will ensue, but if I talk about all that here, that’ll spoil the fun and then what will be the point of writing my story at all? If you wanna know more about them, you know how to contact me! I’ll be posting  more art pieces of them over time as well, and my hope is to eventually turn their story into a comic, so if you want to keep up to date on how that is going, follow me on Twitter~! 

Thanks for reading! <3 

[plus-size-reader]

Everything He Wants

Carl Grimes x Plus size!reader

Word Count: 2404 words 

Warnings: none

Summary: Reader is a savior that Carl likes, the only problem is that he struggles to make a good impression. 

Part 2

———————————————————————————————————

Carl didn’t know what to do the first time he saw you.

He didn’t have a tendency to be speechless, but for some reason, you managed to change all that in a second. You were just different, different from what, he wasn’t sure, but he knew that you were unlike anyone he’d ever seen in his entire life.

It wasn’t like he’d known a ton of women his age in all this, but he was confident that you were the only you there was out there. He’d never seen another person hold so much power before, and also be so unaware of it.

You just moved with so much ease, free of the usual strain that accompanied everyone who had lived and lost in this new world.

It was refreshing.

Of course, it didn’t hurt that he found you incredibly beautiful either. Your hair was wellkept and shiny, in a way that he hadn’t seen in a really long time, and even from this distance, he was sure that your eyes could convince even the cruelest of men to show mercy.

He didn’t know much about you, of course, other than the fact that you had rolled into Alexandria with the Saviors to steal all of their shit. By all accounts, he should have hated your guts, should have spit from where he stood, but he couldn’t make himself do it.

You may have been the enemy but at the same time, you were everything the young boy had ever fantasized about.

That was just a fact.

You were stunning, somehow carefree even as you paraded through the streets of Alexandria, almost as if this whole thing was little more than a game to you. Perhaps, from where you were standing, it was.

It wasn’t your things the men were hauling off in trucks, or your people that would be scrunching up supplies just to survive. Your people made their living by doing just what you were doing now, stealing and thieving.

Carl assumed it was an easy life.

He couldn’t tell too much about you from where he was, watching from the second story window of his house but it was clear as day that you must have belonged to Negan, who was arguably more of a monster than the dead.

It was hard to tell if you were his daughter or one of his wives, but he couldn’t imagine that you would ever marry a creep like that. Even thinking about the latter made his skin crawl, and before he could make himself physically ill, he forced that thought from his mind. All Carl knew for sure was when the saviors had come to loot their homes and you trailed along like a puppy after its master.

No matter how beautiful you were or how captivated you had managed to make him, you were the enemy and he couldn’t allow himself to forget that. No one with any conscience could ever take part in what they were doing.

He certainly couldn’t.

Carl had done plenty of terrible things to survive but he would never take from people who hadn’t done anything to him. There was doing what had to be done and there was being cruel and hurting people.

What Negan had done to Glenn and Abraham was more than enough to decipher which kind you and the rest of the savior's must have been.

Though, you weren’t exactly a savior.

You weren’t a wife of Negan’s, as you were too young and impressionable for him to ever think of proposing something like that to you but you weren’t exactly his daughter either. You had come to the sanctuary with your real father, a man who Negan respected greatly.

When he died, Negan decided to do anything he could to make sure that you were taken care of and getting the things that you needed. He wanted to keep you alive and make sure that you were happy, if for no other reason than to honor your father.

It didn’t hurt that he didn’t have a child of his own either, and spoiling you came naturally to him.

Negan had always had a soft spot for kids, and with the world more dangerous than ever before, he couldn’t turn a blind eye to you, clearly in need. Before long, the rest of the saviors had come to know you as little more than his girl.

You were, for all intensive purposes, the princess of the saviors. Frankly, you thought that sometimes even Negan himself forgot that he wasn’t your father.

He trusted you and came to you when he needed advice, or wasn’t sure what to do. Sometimes he wasn’t sure if he was being too harsh or not being harsh enough. Sometimes he was having a rough day and just wanted to relax.

Whatever it was, you were his go to, you were his right hand.

You two loved to take walks around the sanctuary, Lucille hanging loosely in his grip, ‘just in case’ he would tell you, though you knew deep down that he was just worried about leaving the bat unattended.

He taught you how to skip rocks, and brought you back pretty jewelry and special snacks when the mood struck him. The rest of the world may not have known it, but to you, Negan was family and he was damn good at it.

You cherished those moments you spent together, but there was one thing you loved more than anything else in the world, more than any of those other things he would take you along for.

You absolutely loved raid days.

It may have seemed convoluted to someone like Carl or any of those other people the saviors were taking advantage of but to you, this was just how it was. This was how you got to protect and provide for so many people, this was how you lived.

In the old world, it would have been the worst possible outcome you could think of, but this was different. You understood that the people who looked out for anyone other than themselves first, died, and you wanted to live.

It was as simple as that.

Raid days, for the saviors, meant that you would go to Alexandria or whatever camp you found that had to pay up and take what you wanted. Negan saw it as a sort of payment, a way to ensure that they would cooperate with the rules the saviors lived under.

As long as you paid, there wasn’t going to be any issue, and for the most part, people paid.

You liked it for a different reason though. Alexandria was beautiful, as was the Hilltop colony, and the Kingdom, and all those places you did business with. You loved being able to see new people and watch how they looked out for each other.

It was nice.

So nice, in fact, that by the time the two of you,  along with the large assembly of trucks and men behind you pulled up to the gates of Alexandria, you were visibly shaking in anticipation. You didn’t get to leave the sanctuary super often, so you relished in these times that you could.

You only paused briefly when the truck stopped, looking at Negan for permission. You didn’t need to, not really, but these sorts of things had a bit of a formula to them and you didn’t want to get in the way of business.

It was clear that you were only spectating this whole event. Negan didn’t like to get you involved, not unless he absolutely had to, and so far, he had never had to.

The man nodded slightly, a huge grin on his face as he watched you hop down from the truck. “Go play for a bit, I’ll find you once I get some business taken care of” he allowed, waving you off as he stepped out too, Lucille in hand as she always was.

Carl watched the entire exchange, from the safety of his bedroom window. He knew that he shouldn’t be, watching, as it were but how could he not? You were very good looking, and walking the streets of his home.

No one would have blamed him for staring, not with the very slim chance of meeting a girl his own age ever again. He couldn’t help that you lived with them, that you were one of them, even if he should have cared more.

It should have bothered him, your very existence should have made his blood boil, but it just didn’t.

Carl watched you walk down the street, a small skip in your step as you did so, doing your very best to make conversation with Carol, only to be ignored quite coldly by the older women. Clearly, it wasn’t lost on Carol what you were, and she wasn’t about to give you a pass just because you were young.

Her daughter was young, but this world had taken Sophia from her, so you didn’t get to just waltz in here and act like the world's your oyster. You were stealing from people, ruining their lives, and there was no excuse for that.

He watched for a few seconds more, fighting a battle with himself as he thought about what he wanted to do. There was no real harm that would come from him introducing himself to you, but there was no good reason for him to do it either.

This went on for a few more moments, before finally he sighed and walked down the stairs, not stopping until he was in the yard, headed in your direction. Carl was taking it slow, trying his very best to look as if he was observing but his gaze stayed positioned on you.

No matter what he did, you were all he could think about. He had never even spoken to you and at this rate, he probably never would but really, just being close to you was good enough for him.

He should have left you be, should have gone right back up to his room and pretended that nothing ever happened but that just wasn’t in the cards. As soon as he saw you head off toward the other side of the compound, he knew what he had to do.

The curiosity was killing him.

Casually, he made his way down the street, doing all that he could to be inconspicuous. Had anyone bothered to take a look at him, they would have put the pieces together quickly but that didn’t even really occur to Carl.

All he could do now was watch you until you stopped, your hands resting on the, most likely hot, leather of Daryl Dixon’s motorcycle. You were clearly interested in it, as anyone would have been, and Carl was in a trance.

His eyes were locked on your frame, his attention mainly poised on your face before dropping to your shoulders, your chest, your arms, those thighs, he could have continued but something jolted him before he could.

Or more accurately someone.

Carl glanced up in a hurry, doing his best to cover what he’d been doing, only to find you squatting down in front of him, trying to figure out what he was doing. The place he’d chosen to hide being behind a tree.

It was strange, even for you.

“Did you hear me?” you questioned, a harsh bite coating your sweet tone, an equally questioning look on your beautiful face. The boy in front of you floundered at first, finding that there was no good reason for what he was doing.

Any excuse he could come up with was creepy.

“What were you looking at?” you repeated, your close proximity silencing the boy and clouding his mind. One thing was for sure, if he thought you were beautiful from afar, you nearly knocked him off his feet this close up.

You were stunning.

“What?” He asked, sounding far dumber than he would have ever liked.

Carl didn’t ever get like this, ever, but to be fair, he didn’t have exchanges like this very often. For someone who grew up almost entirely in the apocalypse, he didn’t have a prayer. Of course, it didn’t hurt that you were a bit hard to swallow to begin with.

Naturally, you were a little weirded out by this kid, watching you from across the street, but in your typical way, you weren’t about to shy away from getting answers from him. Whatever he thought he was doing, you were going to make him justify it.

“You were watching me” There was something so accusatory about it, something that he couldn’t help to refute, even if he wanted to. You settled back on your calves, still far too close for Carl to be able to relax as you waited for an answer.

The trouble was that he didn’t have an answer for you.

“What’s your name?” He asked, ignoring your comments in favor of one of his own. For whatever reason, he decided to just go for broke, to do what he’d been desperately thinking about since those armored trucks pulled up.

...But that wasn’t going to work.

“Why should I tell you that?” You countered, doing your best to understand where this strange guy had come from. No one at the sanctuary would ever talk to you like that, but for some reason, he didn’t even hesitate.

It was sort of refreshing, you just couldn’t decide why.

“I’m Carl” he tried, hoping that he could pry an answer out of you before you had to go. He was sure this wasn’t going to be the last time he saw you, but he wanted to be able to call you out by name next time.

At least then, he’d have some hope of making up for being such a weirdo today.

You stood up slowly, looking down at the strange boy, a bandage over his eye, the other one shining as he waited for you hopefully. He had a cowboy hat over his dark brown hair and a dumb smirk playing on his lips, one that you desperately wanted to ignore.

He was weird, but somehow as you headed off toward the bike and the houses you had been admiring, you turned back at the last second, yelling in his direction before jogging off back to your group.

“It’s Y/N”

[lofitojii]

Space [II]

Summery: Everything is quite uncertain in this life, who is here to stay who is going to be temporary. He was, by far, the most uncertain.

Word count: 3.1k

Instagram: lqxpcy

Part 1 

Morning’s in the city were different than back at home. You were always waking up to cars speeding by, hearing traffic off in the distance. You had grown pretty custom to your daily schedule, waking up at seven, getting to the company around 8:30. It had been a couple years now since you applied and now you have bumped up to assistant manager over a boy group that you had only met a couple of days ago. This was the first actual group you were assigned to. Before, you would follow around your boss Jinhyun around, tending to what he needed and help him with his work, now you cater to this group and help them, which is a pretty big step.

You heard your phone ring before you heard your alarm go off that morning. It wasn’t your cell phone, it was your home phone which no one really called unless it was for business you weren’t interested in or you mom calling because she couldn’t get ahold of your cell. You let it ring, in hopes that you would get back to whoever called eventually. “Hello there Mrs. Y/L/N, this is Hanjae calling from SM Entertainment. We went over your history of JYP and we would love to work with you at some point. Give me a call and let’s get together for lunch.” The voice mail ended and you felt a pit in your stomach. You had forgotten that you had applied for a job over at SM a while ago. You thought something got lost when you sent it in.

“Too late,” you groaned, running a hand through your messy hair. You had gotten assigned to a boy group not too long ago, you can’t just switch it now. That would be bad on not only you but the group as well.

You got up and continued your usual duties, showering, starting a pot of coffee, pulling on your black jeans and some sort of nice shirt. You went with a brown sweater, matching it with some sort of nice shoes. It wasn’t a super serious job that you had to be dressed in a suit but it was nice to look somewhat more professional, after all, you are about the same age as most of the idols you have gotten to know.

“There you are Y/n,” you were greeted at the front door by the manager of the group who was in charge of scheduling, press, and all around the guy who made the group a group. “I want you to call and set up that interview for the boys this weekend before the award show. Also, I need you to log into BamBam’s twitter and tweet about the show this weekend, maybe post on Mark’s too.” You nodded as Michael spat information at you. It wasn’t unusual for you to be loaded with new like this the minute you walked through the door. “And as for your new position,” he smiled, turning around and stopping you. “Good luck, today. They’re kind of wild.”

You had met the group a couple days ago, getting to know their names and what their position was in the group. They were a lively group of boys, always laughing and or screaming at each other. It was a fun group to be apart of and you were excited be apart of their team, getting to know them better.

“Meet me in the confrence room in 10,” Michael said, taking out his buzzing phone. He swiped across the screen, lifting it to his ear and smiling. “Ah yes. The boys will be there around three today. Don’t worry, I’m sending Y/n, their new caretaker.” He walked off towards the elevator that would take him up to the fifth floor which is where you needed to be. You sighed as you hugged your jacket closer to your body.

“Good morning.” You turned around to see Jaebum smiling at you as he entered the building, cup of coffee in his hand. “You’re Y/n, right?” You nodded, and smiled in his direction. He took a sip from the small black cup, nodding in confirmation. “I’m Jaebum. I know assisting seven boys can be intimidating but I promise we’re not scary.”

“I’m not too worried,” you lied, trying to brush off Jaebum’s comment. You were already nervous and even though Jaebum’s intentions were pure and simple, they made you more nervous than before.

“We better get up there,” Jaebum motioned towards the elevator. “Michael gets mad if we’re late and I’m not in the mood to be yelled at by him and his thick british accent.” You followed Jaebum into the elevator, pushing the button that read five on it. The lingering silence wasn’t awkward but it wasn’t exactly comfortable either. Jaebum pulled out his phone, leaning against the north side of the wall, avoiding any sort of communication with you at that moment. He wasn’t trying to be rude, he just wasn’t good at making conversation. You remember this because this wasn’t the first time you were left alone together.

“Hey guys,” BamBam greeted you and Jaebum at the conference room door. You waved at him, taking a seat closer to Michael so you could take notes and write down anything he would miss, kind of just your daily duty.

“Where in gods name are the other members?” Michael cursed, tapping his foot, aggravated at the situation.

“Late,” BamBam replied.

“We’re here, calm down.” You looked up from your notebook to see the rest of the group walk in through the door. They looked tired and worn out from their long weekend at home. They all took seats, resting their body lazily in the comfy office chairs as they waited for Michael to start his meeting.

“Good morning everyone,” Michael greeted them, setting his phone down on the office table. “Everyone get some good rest?”

“Jackson looks like he got hit by a bus,” BamBam joked. Jackson shot him a glare, just causing the rest of the room to laugh.

“I told you guys we had a busy week. You were asked to perform this weekend at the award show which means we need squeeze in practice time, fittings, and interviews.” Michael pointed at the planner in front of you, signaling that you needed to pull up the October calendar so you could manage the times. “You’ll be performing the new song this weekend, so please practice in your freetime.”

“Aren’t we performing after Exo?” Yugyeom asked, a bitter tone echoing throughout the room.

“No I think we’re on before them, but after B.A.P,” Jinyoung replied, looking at his phone. “Wait no, after Seventeen.”

“Damn, we are performing next to some of my favorites,” BamBam said, leaning over and looking at Jinyoung’s phone. They both sat there, quietly talking to each other as they looked at the lineup for the show.

“Yes there are going to be some really popular groups there that’s why I need you guys to go and interact with fans online, get them hyped for the show so we can get a good response,” Michael replied. “Exo is a really well known group and are most likely going to be the center of attention of that night but if we get some hype, maybe we will stand out a little more. Y/n also is taking over some of you guys’ twitter accounts, posting daily for you so that you can focus on practice. Now Y/n has also printed out a schedule for you all for this week, you need to be on time and ready at that set time. If you are late, then… I don’t know but just… Don’t be late.”

“You got it boss!” BamBam stood up, saluting Michael as if he was some kind of captain of a ship. You just laughed and shook your head at his actions, Michael mimicking your actions.

“Be ready for fittings at three. I’ll see you guys then.” Michael got up and left you in the room to figure out scheduling for the day. They had a bit of a gap from 9 am to 3 pm, letting them have free time to themselves. You tapped the pencil against the desk, trying to figure out what you could fill that time up with.

“Do you want to get coffee?” Jinyoung asked you, taking your attention away from your planner. You looked up at him and Mark who were still half asleep.

“Sure.” You closed the planner, packing it away in your small bag and flinging it over your shoulder. You followed the two boys out of the building and walked slowly behind them, looking down at your phone, still having a calendar open.

“Damn do you always get sucked into your work?” Mark asked, snatching your phone from your hand. He locked the screen, sliding the phone in his pocket, keeping it away from you. “We have some time. Don’t stress too much about it.”

“If Michael calls and I don’t answer-”

“If Michael wants to get ahold of you, he will call one of us,” Mark stopped you. “This is your new job, Y/n. You work for us, not Michael.” Mark wasn’t in a good mood already and you fighting with him wasn’t helping. Mark was someone not to be messed with when he is tired. He usually is a sweet guy who laughs and jokes around with the other members but when he was tired, he wasn’t to be messed with.

The coffee shop that you always went to was a small one that was underground, being very hard to find if you hadn’t lived here for a while. It was never super busy which made it nice when you went out with people who were a bit more famous to the public eye. You remember you met Jay Park here for the first time a couple weeks ago with Jinhyung. You remember you couldn’t speak, being a huge Jay Park fan.

“The americano?” Mark bickered with Jinyoung in line, still standing in front of you. “Dude that just tastes like straight ass.”

“Whatever dude,” Jinyoung pushed Mark, causing him to stumble back a bit. “You’re just made you can’t drink black coffee without shit in it.” You just rolled your eyes at the two boys in front of you, folding your arms over your chest, trying to keep yourself warm from the crisp fall air billowing in through the constant opening and closing of the door.

You turned around to see people leaving the shop, holding the door open for more people to come in. Your eyes widened as three boys walked into the shop, talking and laughing with each other as they came and stood behind you. You didn’t realise you were staring until one of the boys nudged his friend, pointing at you. Junmyeon raised an eyebrow, looking over in your direction and smiling wide. “Y/n?”

“Hey,” you smiled, being pulling into his arms for a hug. “How are you?”

“I’m good! I didn’t expect to see you here,” he said, pulling his arms back and placing his hands in his pockets to keep them warm. His friends were rather confused at the sudden realization of their friend. “Oh, umm guys this is my old friend Y/n. Y/n this is Chanyeol and Minseok.”

“Nice to meet you guys,” you smiled, shaking their hands.

“Are these the boys your mother was raving about?” Junmyeon pointed at Jinyoung and Mark. “I know the Got7 boys. They’re great artists.” Junmyeon shook their hands, greeting them like they were old friends. That was something that hadn’t really changed. Junmyeon was always so sweet to everyone he ever met. Jinyoung rolled his eyes at the small gesture Junmyeon gave, Mark avoiding all eye contact. You nudged Mark who just nudged you back and walked away from the group.

Junmyeon sat down at your table with his two friends, joining groups. It had been almost four years since you had last seen Junmyeon. After you got the job at JYP you kind of went your separate ways. You wanted to stay in touch but it was hard because he was always training and you were always busy with your own job. “You’re going to have to stop by the studio sometime. I know that Jongdae and Jongin will want to see you.”

“Still surprised you all ended up in the same group,” you shook your head and laughed, taking a sip of coffee. “I remember you and Jongdae would fight when we were kids, literally about everything.”

“That hasn’t changed,” Chanyeol piped in. “There is not a time where they are not fighting.”

“It’s true,” Minseok added. “The other day, Jongdae was wearing one of his shirts and they fought about it for a solid hour about boundaries.”

“It was my shirt,” Junmyeon frowned, bringing his tea to his lips and taking a sip. He sat the small cup down on the table, cupping his hands together from the warmth of the tea he had just held in his hand.

Mark and Jinyoung sat next to you, looking down at their phones like they normally did, avoiding the conversation you were having with your old friend. Junmyeon could tell there was a bit of tension between the five guys sitting there. “Are you guys excited for the show this weekend?”

“Hmm?” Jinyoung raised his head from his phone, piping into the conversation. “Oh, yeah. It should be good.”

“We’re excited to see you guys perform,” Minseok added. “The new track is amazing.” Mark half smiled, putting his phone down on the table.

“No need to pity us you guys,” Mark scoffed. “We know that you guys are being nice for publicity. We’ve all been there.” Minseok rolled his eyes, leaning back in his chair, Chanyeol leaning his tall figure over the table.

“Fair,” Minseok replied, taking a sip from his coffee cup. You didn’t know how to react to the situation of newly found feelings for each other. Junmyeon just sat there, leaning against the back of his chair, staying out of it. “Not our fault you guys are failing.”

“Failing?” Mark scoffed. “Whatever man. We have just as many fans as you do.”

“Guys,” you tried to intervene.

“I don’t think we should get into this now,” Chanyeol chuckled. “We all know we’re taking home that award this weekend.”

“Guys stop,” you said again. “I get you two don’t get along, but for the love of god, just chill. You two are both artist who have a lot to offer so go sip on your coffee and leave each other alone. Simple yeah?” Chanyeol and Minseok sat there, taken back by your newly found confidence. “I’m sorry Junmyeon, but I’ve got to stick up for my group. Let’s go. We have to get to fitting.” You stood up, the other two boys following your actions. You began to make your way towards the door when Junmyeon grabbed the end of your coat.

“I’m sorry about them,” he whispered quietly to you. “I don’t want that to ruin our friendship. Let’s get lunch. I’ll invite Jongin and Jongdae. We can catch up.” You looked back at Mark and Jinyoung who were glaring in your direction, trying to get you to wrap up your little conversation with Junmyeon. You looked back at Junmyeon who was almost begging you, his eyes filled with curiosity and fear. “I know Jongin will want to see you.”

“There you guys are. I didn’t know what coffee place you were talking abo-” His words were cut short as walked in on you talking to Junmyeon. “Y/n?” He stood there, wide eyed, trying to gather himself. You didn’t know how to react either. The last time you had talked to Jongin was when you left his house in the middle of the night, swearing to yourself that you would never make the same mistakes you did.

“Hi,” you let out, almost sounding like a deep sigh rather than a greeting. He walked over to you and Junmyeon, looking over at the other boys and raising an eyebrow. “I have to go.”

“Let’s go,” Mark said, wrapping an arm around your shoulders and leading you out of the door. He looked back behind him, stopping at the doorway and pointing at the boys sitting at the table. “Leave her alone if you know what’s good for you.” You barely heard what he said as you were already inches away from the door of the coffee shop, standing there with Jinyoung. Once Mark joined the small group, he lead the way back to the JYP building, leaving behind the awkward conversation that just happened.

“I get you’re friends with them and all Y/n but if it’s really been that long that you haven’t heard from them, they’re obviously not worth your time,” Jinyoung spoke as he walked behind you and Mark. “Plus they’re kind of assholes.”

“Yeah,” you whispered quietly to yourself. You didn’t really have a good reason as to why you weren’t arguing with Jinyoung. He wasn’t wrong. Your history with Jongin was confusing and something you would rather not relive. It was hard enough that you already agreed to lunch with Junmyeon and the other boys but it made it even more complicated now that your group that you’re looking over absolutely hates the other group. Or maybe it was just Mark and Jinyoung.

Either way, you hated the fact that things were like this. You had a set schedule for the rest of your life, avoiding Jongin at all costs and just getting on with your life. Instead, things had taken a turn, once again. You really need to stop planning things out for yourself because life is one of those crazy rides you have no control over. You could try over and over again, avoiding the things that made you upset and having them catch up to you in the long run.

“Can I have my phone back now?” You asked Mark as he entered the small dance studio.

“Oh yeah. Sorry,” he handed you back your phone, turning and taking a seat on the small couch next to BamBam who was taking a small nap on the couch. Mark rested his head against BamBam’s shoulder, resting his tired body as well.

You looked at your phone and saw a text from Jongin. You wanted so badly to avoid all contact with him yet here you are, unlocking your phone to read the message.

Jongin[10:34]

We need to talk. I want to apologize in person.

“God damnit”

[smuttyfairy]

Cinema (M)

Genre: Smut

Summary: At a movie premier you meet your ex / good friend, Jin. As complicated as your relationship with him is, it get even more complicated when he convinces you to ditch your date and spend some time with him. (Previously posted on Suganeedsanap) Warnings: None (unless you scared of big dick Jin) Word Count: 4,352

Written by: Smutty Jaefairy

You laid in bed and tried to assess what had happened in the span of four hours. The taste of liquor on your tongue was something heavy, and floral. You remembered these martini glasses of lavender colored something. He didn’t drink, but you knew when you saw him there you were gonna have to have a few drinks before the night was over. Your plum lipstick was smudged, probably from when you opened the door, his lips instantly locked onto yours. The taste was like opening an old book you’ve read over and over. No matter how many times you tried to quit Kim Seokjin, you kept coming back to him. That was a book you knew inside out.

At the beginning of the night, you were at a movie premier one of your clients invited you to. You worked in accounting, but it wasn’t surprising when a celebrity or two asked for your services.  Dressed in a navy knee length cocktail dress, black heels, and a black shawl, a few heads turned. The lights from the reporters stung your vision, but you seemed to keep yourself away from their attention. You kept your face towards the door and made sure not to make any kind of eye contact with anyone. As you entered the theater, there was a moderate crowd waiting to see the film. Your client, an athlete in his late twenties, was at your side. He asked you if you wanted something and you asked for popcorn and a box of sour patch kids. His hand wandered to your side and squeezed it for a moment before he goes to the concession stand. You grimaced slightly at his pass, but you couldn’t act surprised. How many people ask the person that handles their finances out to a movie? You watched his stance as he sauntered over. You could tell from the way he carried himself he was overconfident and honestly, it was kind of annoying. You recalled how the conversation went when he asked you to the movie. “You’ll love it, no need for you to act so cold. I always give a good time. “   You begrudgingly accepted. You could always leave early if you felt like it. You looked around at the mild wave of people coming in and before you knew it, it was getting packed. Your client was chatting up a few other men you remember seeing on the sport section of the news, still in line. You sighed and checked your watch. Leaving your date waiting was such a turn off.

When you decided to walk over to him, a sharp tap on your shoulder spun you around and you stiffened up. Round dark eyes met yours and you felt a tingle in the back of your neck. Seokjin, your friend, your ex, your.. something was standing in front of you. His round, plump lips curved into a smile as he reached in for a hug. “Y/n! I haven’t seen you in forever. “ “You saw me last month, Jin. “ You smiled and hugged him back. He pushed his auburn hair out of his face and squinted his eyes for a second. “Ah, well it feels like forever. “  You’ve known each other for years. When you first started dating , you couldn’t help but feel levitated to him. It was difficult to separate the two of you back then, but as things usually go, it didn’t last. You wanted to go to university and he was about to debut. Doing what was best for the both of you, you broke things off, but you still talked to each other. You’d text often, make calls when you could. You were just good friends, and you were fine with that. You two were adults now, though. After a few years things got complicated. You visited him while he was on tour, he would stay with you when he was in town. You got good at using concealer on your hickies. He always remembered to bring condoms. There were a few points where he asked what you two were and all you did was shrug. That’s how they were then and now. “You miss me too much.” You giggled and looked at the floor. No matter how guarded you were around him, you still seem to break down and melt. Your cheeks grew red, hoping to god he didn’t noticed. You felt his hand reach for your chin and lift it up, a contempt smile on his face. “Never enough, Jagi”  on impulse you swatted his hand away, your hands covering your face. His infectious laughter felt like it filled the room for a few moments. You were always a bit of an Ice queen, so it always entertained Jin when you got embarrassed. “Don’t call me that in public, what if someone heard?” Jin frowned at your protest. “Sorry, Y/n. It cute when you get embarrassed.”  You sighed and gave an apologetic pout. “I’m sorry. Are you here alone?” He nodded, his eyes wandering to beyond your head. “ I’m guessing you’re not.”   Confused, you raised an eyebrow and looked behind you. Your client was walking over, an unimpressed look on his face. As he reached you, he handed you your popcorn and candy. “Hey, Y/n. Did you make a new friend?” You opened your mouth to say something, but Jin answered before you could. “Actually we’re old friends from high school. Kim Seokjin.” They exchanged pleasantries for a moment, the athlete’s left eye twitching. As messy as this all was, you were slightly amused. “Hey, you’re in that one group aren’t you? My little sister has you on her wall.” He said with a sneer. “ Well, I appreciate her support. We work very hard.” You could tell he was genuine with his response. Him and the others in BTS worked so hard to make their fans happy, it was very admirable. Jin overall was a very caring person. Even though the both of you had a difficult relationship, he was there for you more than anyone else in your life. It didn’t sit well with you that someone was mocking him. As the man’s hand wrapped around your waist once more, he told Jin goodbye. “Well, it’s time we got our seats. It was nice meeting you.” “Likewise. Y/n, I shall see you soon?” You nodded at Jin and he gave a wide smile, his eyes closing slightly. As you walked into the theater you felt a vibration from your side pocket. You reached in for your phone and saw a message from Jin. Kim Seokjin: I hope you’ll be leaving with me tonight <3 You smirked and typed a quick reply as you sat down in the theater. F/n L/n: Why would you think otherwise? Meet me across the street. The hotel there has a pretty nice bar. As you were about to put your phone away, you felt another buzz. Kim Seokjin: Are the rooms nice too?   You felt your cheeks warm up and you turned off your phone. Your night seemed to be looking up minute by minute. You knew when the love interest was driving off, leaving the female lead alone in tears, you had about 5 or 10 minutes before credits. Your client was squeezing your hand and your thigh all night and at this rate if you didn’t leave now, it would be hard to slip away. You touched his hand, your thumb rubbing circles into it. “I’ll be right back, I need to go to the bathroom.” He smiled at you and nodded. You stood up, your candy box in your hand and walked pass the other viewers and out the door. As soon as the theater doors snap shut, it was like a timer went off in your head. You felt yourself speed down the stairs to the entrance. As you got there, you went to the bathroom, checked your hair and your makeup, and dashed out. Before leaving you realized it’d be bad if anyone saw Jin. You walked over to the lost and found and asked if anyone saw your black hoodie. You hoped your lie was vague enough to give you something and lo and behold, a rather large black hoodie was there. You placed it on and walked out the theater, zipping it up hastily.

Crossing the busy street in heels was a bad bad idea, but you managed. As you hit the street on the other side, you sighed for a moment and caught your breath. You looked up at the swanky hotel in front of you and noticed a bush with pink flowers. You walked over and hid the hoodie deep in it. As you walked in, you played with your hair one last time and walked over to the desk. You asked for a room for the night, something simple. After ten minutes everything was ready to go. You looked across the street and saw people coming out of the theater. You felt a little anxious and started straight for the elevator, reaching for your phone and writing Jin a message. F/n L/n: Room 324. There’s a pink flower bush outside the hotel with a hoodie. Take your time, I’ll be here all night <3.   You press the elevator button and once it arrived, stepped in and went up. You were on the thirteenth floor, giving you enough time to take a breather. You closed your eyes and took in the rush of sneaking around. Sometimes you felt like this was one of your favorite parts. The rush you got from it was fun, you felt like a kid again. When you thought about it like that it made you scowl yourself. This couldn’t last forever. You were going to have to make a choice about Jin before he found something more stable, more serious. Your phone vibrated and you took it out. Your client was calling. You let it ring and sighed. It was going to look bad that you ditched. But the fact that he was making passes at you wasn’t the most professional thing either. You bit your lip and shrugged, deciding to worry about it in the morning. Your phone vibrated again and it was Jin. Kim Seokjin: Give me an hour. Press talks, then I’m all yours.<3   The elevator dinged and you stepped out. As you made it to the hotel room, you stepped inside and turned on the light. The room was sleek, white, and modern, but not over the top. There was a bed, a dresser with a tv and soft lighting from the corners of the room. You took off your heels and looked at your feet. You had a bleeding bruise on one of your ankles, probably from running around in uncomfortable heels. You slipped your dress off and went into bathroom to find a first aid kit. After cleaning it and bandaging it up, you looked at your phone and noticed an unread text, not from Jin, but from Namjoon. He was the leader of Jin’s group and a close friend of yours. When you needed advice about something or needed help with some numbers, you went to him. Kim Namjoon: “You up?” After reading it you decided to call him. After a few rings, he picked up. After a second of scuffling you heard his voice. “Hello?” “Hey, what’s up?” “I should be asking you. You went to that movie tonight, right?” You propped your phone between your shoulder and your cheek. “I did, I did. Are you gonna tell me that Jin was there?” “Oh, so I’m guessing you guys already saw each other.” He knew about your situation with Jin, he probably was the only person you felt comfortable enough telling. “Yeah, we’re gonna spend the night tonight, so don’t expect him home anytime soon.” “I didn’t..” He said with a slight laugh. His laughter stopped abruptly at a sudden realization. “Hang on, weren’t you going there with that soccer guy?” You bit your lip and felt a small tinge of guilt. “Well….I kind of ditched him. “ “Hmmm.” You could tell that hmm had some judgement behind it. “He was acting creepy and I was getting tired of him anyways.” “ I don’t know why Jin didn’t ask you in the first place. You two are practically in love with each other. “ “Namjoon, stop it.” You laughed as you stood up and walked into the room, unzipping your dress and slipping it off to reveal your lilac lingerie. “How long are you gonna play cat and mouse, Y/n? It’s obvious, so what are you afraid of?” You stood there in the middle of a hotel room and thought about his question. Were you afraid of losing him? You never jumped hoops like this for anyone else, so what was stopping you from calling him yours? “Y/n?” Namjoon’s voice broke you from your train of thought. “Ah, I’m here. I was thinking. “ a grunt acknowledged you and you heard a sigh. “ I had a long day, so I think I’m gonna sleep..but I will say this. Love is something that once you lose it, you’ll never find anything like it again.” “Cheesy.” “Hey! I’m trying to be helpful.” You chuckled, a sad smile forming on your lips. “Don’t let go if you got it, right?” You murmured, biting one of your nails absentmindedly. “Yeah, you know what I’m saying. You’re a smart girl, I know you guys will figure it out.” “Thanks, Dad.” you said jokingly. There was a moment of silence and you heard a click, forcing a laugh out of your mouth. You found yourself laughing for a few moments, then it dispersed into the air. You thought about what could happen if Jin wasn’t in your life anymore. Your chest felt empty, a sore feeling emerged. You called the front desk and asked for a few glasses of something strong brought to the room. After a few moments a knock was heard. You slipped on a robe and opened the door. A tray was brought in with chocolate covered strawberries, and two martini glasses filled with a purple substance. The attendant smiled at you. “This in an alluring lullaby. Wine, vodka, and topped off with bourbon. The strawberries are complementary.” “Works for me.” You hand him a hefty tip and he leaves the room. You downed both glasses with vigor and sit back on the bed, checking your phone. Your thoughts  wandered to Jin and you lightly hit your head. You knew Namjoon was right, and at this point you felt like you needed to be honest with yourself. “ I love Jin and I don’t want him with anyone else..” You told yourself aloud. Now only if you could tell him face to face. In that moment your phone buzzed and your heard footsteps down the hall. The message read “Open the door.” You got on your feet and walked to the door unlocking it. As it swung open Jin’s soft, dark eyes met yours. He looked at you, slowly taking the hood off and closing the door behind him. He slipped off the hoodie and before you could say hello, his hands were on your waist, pushing you against the door forcefully. His lips crashed into yours harshly as his hands hiked up your robe, letting them freely lift up your thighs and wrap them around his waist. You moaned softly, wrapping you arms around his neck and returning the kiss greedily. You wanted this since you saw him and now that you waited patiently. You were going to take what was yours.

His tongue slipped into your mouth every so often until you pulled back and bit on his bottom lip gently. The low moan that escaped his throat made you feel warm in your lower body, and you wouldn’t stop anytime soon. You let go and let your lips leave small pecks along his neck as he carried you over to the bed, gently dropping you down. You slipped off your robe and let it cling to the sheets as you watched him take off his jacket, shirt and jeans until he was left there in his briefs. He crawled onto the bed, kissing your neck. Jin’s hand trailed down to your breast, squeezing them gently before going behind you and unclasping your bra. He slipped it off, and let his lips trail your collarbone, gently embracing the skin. You felt his breath hot on your chest as he whispered to you. “Y/n, I’ve really missed you..”     His mouth opened and sucked onto your nipple with care for a brief moment. Jin’s teeth grazed and bit down, emitting a loud gasp from you. Your back arched slightly, and he moved to the other side. As he decided to bite down again, his fingers slipped down to your panties and tugged them off. Jin pulled up and smirked, enjoying the view of your wet panties. “I guess you really missed me too, huh?” Your face grew red as you grabbed your panties from him, tossing them aside and grabbing the top of his briefs. You pulled him back towards you and kissed him, your hand snaking the back of his deep brown hair, forcing him to stay where he was and give you the attention you desperately wanted. He forced himself out of your grip and took your wrists in one hand, the other pulled his cock out. He pressed it against your drenched lips, rubbing against it slowly. Jin’s eyes never left yours, his mouth slightly parted. As it pressed harder against you, you bit down on your lip and moaned louder. He bucked his waist against you, pressing into you for a moment. You gasped but then Jin pulled away and you looked at him, his grip still on your wrists. “Y/n, You want it?” He smirked, his lustful eye boring into yours.   “Yeah..” you nodded and squirmed under him. He smiled and got off the bed, stepping backwards. “Come and get it..” Pouting, you got up and cursed slightly under your breath. “Seokjin, stop playing around..” You tried to grab his arm, but he moved out of the way, giggling. Jin went for the bathroom and you ran towards him. Once inside he grabbed you with his hands and held you tightly, kissing you roughly. You both let your lips lock, lost in the moment. Jin moved you both towards the sink, his lips slowly retracting farther with every kiss. You tried to get closer but he teased, stepping away from you. You crossed your arms and tilted your head. He knew that his teasing was frustrating you, but he liked that side of you. Jin stopped, smiling and pressing his hands together. “Sorry, Jagi ~” “Jin, I want you..stop teasing me.” “Honestly I just wanted to hear your sweet voice say that.” You face burned slightly and you hit his shoulder, which made his laughter fill the room once again. Within seconds, he was back to being on you. His lips nested into the crook in your neck and his fingers rubbed the outside of your pussy before slipping two inside you. As his fingers started pumping inside you, he bit your neck. It was your most sensitive spot, and it was a spot Jin loved to toy with. He bit harder, relishing the sounds of pleasure coming from your mouth as he quickened his pace. As he started sucking his bite mark, you shivered. “I’m so close, Jin..please don’t stop.” Your plea fell on deaf ears. He stopped where he was, taking his finger out of you and sucking on them. “You’re really wet down there...it tastes great.” Your pout was showing, and you were getting tired of him stopping. “Seokjin!” “Hm?” He feigned innocence and mimicked your pout, pushing you over the edge. “Stop stopping!” “Why? Do you really want it that bad?” You nodded and he pressed his body against yours before turning you to face the mirror, your back to him. He leaned over, his warm breath against your ear. “Say it..I want to hear you tell me what you want..” He kissed your ear, then began planting kisses on your shoulder and your back. “Tell me, Y/n...” You moan softly after every kiss, refusing to give him what he wanted until a you felt a hard smack on your ass. “Ah! I want you to fuck me..I want to feel you inside of me, and I want you to make me feel good..” You look back at him, a contempt smile on his face that he finally won. You blushed a shade darker and backed your ass into his hard cock. “There, you got what you wanted..now please..” You whined, your legs trembling from need.   Your pussy was warm and you could feel your thighs getting moist by this point. Jin pushed you down onto the counter some and positioned himself behind you. His hand reached for your hair and grabbed a handful as he entered you. When he filled you up inside, you screamed softly. You had done this plenty of times with him, but he was so big you still wasn’t used to it. After a moment you started to feel his thrusts more and your body was burning up. With every move he’d tugged your hair more and watch your face from the mirror. His voice was a jumble of pants and moans , his hips pounding harder into you. You looked up and saw his face. It was transfixed on you. Your hair messy, makeup smudged, breasts bouncing in time with his movements. It looked so hot, and it just brought you closer to your limit. His other hand slipped between your legs, his fingers brushing against your swollen clit. Your moans got louder, his name slipping out of your mouth a few times. You felt a rush building up and your groaned softly. “S-seokjin, I’m gonna-” before you could finished he slammed into you.You screamed and gripped the edge of the counter, pushing over the build up and cumming finally. You sighed catching your breath for a moment as you felt him slip out of you. You turned around and kissed his chest for a moment, pushing him out of the bathroom and onto the bed. As he laid on the bed, you straddled him. You kissed him a few times and smirked. “We’re not done yet..I’m gonna make you cum.” He smiled through short breaths, smoothing his damp hair out of his eyes. “If you’re tired, we can stop.” You knew he was trying to be caring, but you wanted to make him cum. “I’m not tired.” You kissed his cheek and positioned yourself over him before easing down on him. You braced yourself and went slowly at first, Jin’s hands gripping your waist. His eyes were fixed on your chest , one of his hands wandering upwards and grabbing them. You started to go faster, and his pants got more desperate. He stopped playing with your breasts and pressed his fingers deep into your waist, quickening your pace. You started to moan loudly again, hoping you didn’t cum a second time. Every time his cock massaged your walls it made your body heat up and it felt amazing. He shut his eyes and held you down on his throbbing dick. It twitched a few times and he moaned your name, his cum spilling inside of you. You moaned softly and watched his face, enjoying every second. After a few minutes his breathing returned to normal and he slipped out. “Are you okay?” He asked, his face searching yours for signs of discomfort. You nodded and kissed his forehead. “That was fun.” He smiled and kissed you softly, pressing his lips into yours. Jin held onto you and smiled. “I love you.” He would always say this after you two were done. You never said anything back, you would blush or hide your face or smile. Maybe it was time for a change. “I love you too, Seokjin. “ He looked at your for a moment and smiled wide, as if he’d been waiting for those words for a long time.

You felt dirty and asked Jin if you two could shower together. Afterwards, you both relaxed on the bed and snacked on the strawberries and candy left over from the film. You were telling him about the client and how you ditched him. “I think that’s the first time I did that to someone I work with.” You said stuffing a sour patch in Jin’s mouth. He chewed for a moment and puckered. “You should probably say sorry in the morning. Hopefully you can smooth things over. “ “I will, I will.” You sighed and bit on a strawberry. “Hey, Y/n?” “Hmm?” You looked up at Jin, his gaze on you, still eating sour patch after sour patch. “You said I love you this time.” “I remember. It happened twenty minutes ago. “ You smirked and stole a few candies from the box. “So, should I ask what we are?” His expression was serious, as it usually was when this topic came up. You sat straight up and pop a few sour patches in your mouth. “What are we, Seokjin?” “I’d like for you to be my girlfriend again.” You sighed and nodded, your fears bubbling from your mouth. “I’m afraid things would go bad.” He held your hand and shook his head. “I only wanted you for this long, I doubt there could be anyone else.“ You blushed and moved closer to him. “If you’re lying, I get to kill you right?” He stuff a strawberry in your mouth and you whined. “Mmmm!” “I’m not lying. I love you, Y/n.” He looked at you and kissed your lips once. When he pulled back , you smiled at him. “I love you too.“ “Will you be my girlfriend?” “Of course Seokjin, Of course.”

[birdofdoom]

Cinderella Pt. 3

This is part three of the Cinderella fic in which the Reader and Michael meet in the Eden Club to a rocky start. He’s just walked her home and she’s inviting him up for tea.

I know I’m a bit behind on things, but I’ve been quite ill as of late so I’m struggling to keep up. Again, I welcome feedback and would love any and all criticism because I want to get better at writing. I hope you enjoy. Cheers!

Michael x Reader

The apartment offered a welcome relief from the wintery night air. Michael stepped from the stoop into the narrow foyer of the brownstone. [Y/N] closed the door to the main entryway and gestured to the creaky stairs on his left. He climbed them slowly, allowing his body to acclimate to the heat.

“My flat’s letter ‘C’ it’s at the end of the hall to the right.” 

“Right,” his voice was soft, almost anemic. He had ventured into many a bedroom with women of all sorts with little hesitation, but now he could feel his heart race with worry. Embarrassment was kissing a warm flush into his cheeks. It wouldn’t be the first time he had gone home with a girl without knowing her name, but now he felt a sense of shame about it. Somehow in her quaint little brownstone, in her reserved blue dress, being alone together read as scandalous. He felt self-conscious of all his past escapades, now wondering if they were all indecent or if he was overthinking his current venture.  He mustered all his self-control, pushing perverse and scintillating thoughts from his mind. Michael took a deep breath, reminding himself that he had only been invited for tea, and that’s all he would stay for. After all, if she was Cinderella, it was his duty to play Prince Charming.

She laughed and Michael was pulled from his intense thought.

“Hmm?” he questioned, turning to face her.

“I need to get by. I have the key. Unless you want to will it to open on your own, Houdini.”

“Oh right,” he blushed more deeply, wondering how long he had been absentmindedly staring at the knob. She placed her hand on his bicep, gently leading him out of the way so she could make a path to the entrance. The touch was light, but he could feel blood rush to the spot, yearning for more. After fidgeting with the key in the lock, the door opened with a droning creak. She smiled and moved knowingly into the dark room. Somewhere along the wall, she reached for a switch and a lamp awakened, spreading a warm yellow glow over the flat. It was a small but charming studio. The sole window was large and leaded and hung like a painting on the east wall. Her kitchen was cramped and well used, pots and pans hung precariously from the ceiling to save space. Next to the radiator were two small mismatched armchairs and a sizable trunk, which she had repurposed into a table, complete with a white doily. Her bed was small, but neatly made, a hand-sewn quilt and crocheted duvet were folded tidily at its foot.

Michael smiled to himself. The petite flat felt like more than a place to live. She had made it a home. It smelled of cinnamon and tea and cigarettes. Books and journals were filed against the east wall, framing the window. Several more stood in a stack by the bed. As he took in the warmth of her flat, he knew it helped reveal who she was. He felt at ease in the kind lamplight, among volumes of knowledge and in the company of a mysterious girl.

“Sorry for the mess. I know it isn’t much, compared to what you’re used to, Landed Gentry.” He smiled at her playful jab. Nervousness wrecked his gut and left his heart aflutter, but watching her cheeks perk into a smile calmed him.

“No, it’s quite nice. Cozy.” He found his way to one of the armchairs and picked up a book to his left. She put the kettle on and placed two cups and saucers on the trunk. She pulled a tin from the shelf in the kitchen offering him a cigarette. Obliged, he lit it, relaxing into the chair.  

“Is this any good?” He picked up a red-bound copy of a book entitled We from beside the trunk.

“That really depends on your taste. I don’t know what you like. I loved it, but it is a bit on the intense side of things. It’s science fiction.”

“Oh like space men and H.G. Wells and stuff.” She laughed at his apparent disdain.

“Well, no, not really, it’s more of a political thriller about an authoritarian state. It’s violent and terrifying and beautiful all at the same time. It’s dystopian.” Michael raised his eyebrows intrigued. “Feel free to borrow it.” She smiled and he was again taken aback by her unabashed generosity.

“I think I will.”

“That means return it when you’re done. I expect you to treat it well.”

“So you want to meet again?” His voice was smooth and confident; the boldness was not lost on her. She still found him beautiful and charming and she could feel her cheeks aflame with desire. A hissing from the kitchen filled the silence between them.

“Yes, I suppose so.” She said quickly and walked to the whistling kettle, pouring the boiling water into a teapot and gradually dropping a sachet inside.  

“And why’s that?”

“Like you said, I’m new here. I don’t know anyone or have any friends, really. I enjoy your company. Plus, I would want my book back.” Her excuses were thinly veiled and she secretly hoped he could see through them.

“Well I don’t live around here,” he shrugged blowing out a cloud of smoke. He wanted to act cool, to make her admit that she wanted him.

“Oh, I just figured if you owned the club you lived here. Where do you live?” His attempts at aloofness were quashed by her genuine interest.

“Small Heath. Birmingham.”

“So that’s where you work as a gangster slash accountant?” Her playful sarcasm was as shocking as it was charismatic. He had met plenty of girls attracted and fascinated by the danger of his profession. They loved to ask about his gun or the number of men that he’d killed, as if his sinful life was sexy or en vogue. [Y/N], oddly enough, seemed to find Michael’s job as an accountant humorous and was indifferent to the illicit nature of the Peaky Blinders’ business.

“Yeah.”

“So will you be able to return my book? If not, I guess I could give you money to post it back to me. I don’t want to be a hassle.” He smiled at her as she poured the steeped tea into their cups on the trunk. He liked that she focused less on his occupation and more on their budding friendship.

“I just can’t seem to place you,” his lips closed into a smirk around his cigarette.

“What’s there to place? You literally know nothing about me. Hell, you don’t even know my name. It isn’t any wonder.” He snorted.

“True, but that can change.”

“I guess it could. What do you want to know?”

“Your name would be nice, for a start.”

“[Y/N]. Next?” She looked intensely into his eyes. Taking a cigarette from the tin, she leaned forward to light it off the end of his. Never breaking eye contact, she successfully chained them, tobacco wafting from her lips. Her witchy gaze was entrancing and he felt himself begin to lose self-control in her irises. She exhaled and licked her lips, trying to stymie the cigarette’s drying kiss. He couldn’t help but stare at her mouth as she did so, his eyes heavily lidded with desire.

“[Y/N].” He almost whispered it. He let her name dance around his mouth, tasting the consonants and vowels in turn. She smiled.

“Yes?”

“Just wanted to say it.”

“Anything else you want to know?” she exhaled as tendrils of smoke framed her face.

“What brings you to London? On the run from a stepmother?” She chuckled.

“No. I don’t have family anymore. I wanted a change of pace. Get out of the country. New start. All that. Dreams in the big city, ya know. Same as anyone else.”

“What do you mean ‘anymore’.”

“Oh, well the War took the men and then the influenza took the women. I’m the last one standing I guess.” She shrugged, looking resigned to her fate of coffins and lilies. He nodded and decided to swiftly change the subject, seeing a twinge of grief in her eye.

“What do you do?”

“Bookbinder, hence all the…” she gestured around the overstuffed apartment with her cigarette.

“Books, right.” He grinned. They took turns sipping tea and smoking in the tiny room, exchanging stories and laughs. Her smile was infectiously earnest. As her lips parted to show her teeth he felt heat radiate from her cheeks, melting his earlier trepidation. The radiator spurted and stuttered while keeping the flat toasty. The temperature and fragrant thickness of the air were relaxing, and as time passed Michael knew that he’d be out again to walk in the frigid night alone. He didn’t want to go home. He wanted to drink tea and tell stories and chat with [Y/N] until the sun rose, but he knew not to push his luck. He took a deep drag trying to savor the moment, committing it to memory.

“So, why aren’t you afraid of me, being a country mouse and all. Didn’t your mother ever tell you not to let strange men into your home?” His eyes narrowed and he wagged his finger in mock derision.

“What’s so strange about an accountant?” she asked with faux ignorance.

“You know what I am.”

“Yeah, you’re a country mouse too. I can tell by the way you talk. You aren’t from London and you sure as shit aren’t from Birmingham.” She giggled. Smoke poured from his smug Cheshire cat grin.

“You caught me. I was born in Birmingham, raised in the country.”

“That explains it.” He was relived when she didn’t pry further.

“Do you like jazz?”

“I love it. That’s why I went to the Eden. One of the girls at work said it has the best bands.” He nodded.

“We do try to have nothing but the best. What about dancing?”

“What about it?”

“Do you like to dance?”

“If the mood strikes me, yes I love to dance. I usually need some liquid courage to get started, though.”

“How long do you think this book will take to finish?”

“Dunno. Maybe a week or two? I found that it’s a pretty fast read.”

“So then are you free next Friday? I could give you your book back. We could meet at the Eden.”

“Sure.” Her eyes scrunched as her mouth was pulled taught across her cheeks in a broad simper. He reveled in her smile. He took another nip of tea and remembered their cold walk from the club to her flat.

“Actually, would it be alright if I met you here? That way you don’t have to go all that way alone at night.”

“Oh, no please, I wouldn’t want you to have to walk all this way just to turn back around and walk me to the club. It isn’t any trouble, I can manage.” He snorted.

“No, I have a car. I can drive you if you like.”

“Oh. In that case, yeah, you can come round at half eight.”

“That’s much too early to go dancing. Maybe we could have dinner beforehand?”

“Alright sure. Dinner at eight next Friday. It’s a date.” She rose from the plush armchair and walked over to the wall of books, pulling a diary from the bottom right. She uncapped a fountain pen serving as a bookmark between its pages and wrote down the time for their rendezvous.

“Is it?” he asked. He could feel the color drain from his face and trepidation suck the moisture from his mouth. He felt foolishly childish. He was struggling with the nervous pit that he had worried into his stomach. He hadn’t felt so anxious asking a girl out before, especially someone as naïve as she appeared to be.

“Yes, if you like it to be, it’s a date.” Her ears were a sharp shade of cherry. She averted her gaze from his, suddenly fascinated by the design of the rug. He found reassurance in her bashfulness and wondered if their reactions fed off of one another.

It was late and the arrangements for next week’s plans seemed to be a natural capstone to their conversation. Michael struggled to get up out of his seat, swallowed by the overstuffed cushions. He thanked her for the tea and cigarettes and made his way toward the door with We in hand.

“Wait.” He turned to see her shuffling through the trunk that had served as their side table. “It’s cold out there. I know you didn’t bring a coat, so take these.” She handed him a set of red knitted mittens with a matching hat and scarf. They were thick and warm wool.

“Thank you,” he said holding up his hands.

“It’s nothing,” she laughed.

“I’d love to make it up to you.”

“That’s what next week’s for,” her voice was soft but coy.

“Right then.” He walked out the door as she waved goodbye. He waited to hear the latch of a lock before moving down the hall to the stairs.

As he waited at the main door of the Brownstown, steeling himself against the bite of the winter wind to come, he held his nose to the woolen mittens and inhaled. They smelled like cinnamon and tea and cigarettes. They smelled like her. He smiled.

[dknc3]

The writing prompt meme- #50 "I’m starting an idiot jar. Any time you do or say anything idiotic, you have to put at least a dollar in it—more depending on how stupid the thing that you said or did was.” The Starklings. It's such a sibling prompt!

“What? It’s a great idea!”

“Robb, it’s a terrible idea! Mom doesn’t even like hockey,” Sansa protested.

Her older brother looked at her as if she’d lost her mind. “Of course she likes hockey! She has never missed a single game any one of us has played in unless two of us were playing at the same time in different rinks! She’s been to more games than Dad, Sansa!”

Sansa rolled her eyes. “OK. She doesn’t like hockey unless one or more of you idiots are playing. This isn’t just Dad’s anniversary! Stanley Cup playoff tickets are a terrible anniversary gift.”

“You’re just saying that because you’re the only person in this family who never played, Sansa! You probably want to send them to the dumb old ballet!” nine year old Rickon protested.

“No, I don’t,” Sansa said, in a voice alarmingly like their mother’s when her patience was nearly at an end. “I’m perfectly well aware that Dad has no interest in the ballet unless I’m dancing.”

“Well, ballet’s boring,” Rickon pronounced, making a face that had Robb, Jon, and Bran all laughing in spite of Sansa’s glaring at them.

“I hate all of you!” Sansa exclaimed as she dramatically turned causing her hair to swish around her shoulders and flounce out of the room. 

From her perch on the back of the couch by the window, Arya sighed. She’d never admit it to a living soul, but she did envy her sister’s ability to do that kind of stuff with her hair, even if Sansa was acting like a baby.

They were all acting like babies. Stupid babies.

Before she could mention that to them, however, Robb turned on Rickon. “Nice going, kid!” he said sarcastically. “Now she’d bailed on us!”

“You laughed!” Rickon protested, throwing his empty Coke can at Robb’s head.

Robb ducked of course, and the can, which apparently wasn’t entirely empty, hit the wall behind him, splattering Coke on a portrait of their family taken on a vacation to the beach about seven years ago. Their mother loved that picture.

“Nice,” Arya said, swinging her legs over the back of the couch and standing up. “You all are just brilliant. We’ve all been saving money for a damn year, and now that it’s time to actually plan this thing, we’ve talked for an hour, decided nothing, chased off Sansa, and gotten coke all over Mom’s favorite picture.

As Robb and Rickon both started to protest, Arya spoke over them. “Robb, go get Sansa back here. I know she’s bossy, but she listens to you more than the rest of us, and does anybody think we can actually plan this without her?”

She looked around the room at her siblings and cousin. Nobody actually disputed that statement. “Go on, Robb!” she said when he didn’t move. “Grovel if you have to, but get her back here.”

“Rickon’s the one who pissed her off!” Robb protested. 

Arya loved her oldest brother, she truly did. He was a wonderful guy. But sometimes when he felt angry or unjustly accused, he could be the biggest baby of all of them. “Yeah. And he’s NINE. Your twenty. Suck it up, Robb. You all laughed, and it was your dumb suggestion that we send Mom and Dad to the playoffs as our gift which got Sansa riled up in the first place. Besides,” she turned to glare at her youngest brother, and the smirk he’d been directing at Robb disappeared immediately. “Rickon has to go get a rag and clean his damn mess. None of us will be alive to give Mom and Dad anything if Mom sees that picture that like that!”

Rickon, fully aware that he couldn’t escape responsibility for the Coke can incident and with no desire to end up on the receiving end of the wrath of Catelyn Stark (in spite of the fact that Mom tended to let him skate more often than anyone because he was the BABY), scampered toward the kitchen in search of cleaning supplies immediately. 

Robb made a face at her that caused him to look alarmingly like Rickon, but he then agreed to go in search of their sister, muttering under his breath as he went. “And she calls SANSA bossy!”

“Well?” Arya asked as Bran and Jon stared at her in silence. 

“Well what?” Bran asked.

“Well where do you two think we should send them?” she asked in exasperation. These two had contributed very little to the discussion so far, although to be fair, neither had she--except to give them an update on their general budget. 

Even the older kids agreed that fifteen year old Arya was the best of all of them at math, so while Robb had opened the bank account last year because only he and Jon were over eighteen and could do it without their parents’ knowledge, Arya had managed it. The others had given her their contributions and she’d made deposits with Robb’s permission and kept track of the balance. Considering that only Jon, Robb, and Sansa had jobs--and they weren’t exactly full time or well-paying, they’d managed to collect quite a sum over the past year. Arya herself had done some math tutoring to raise money. She’d even babysat a few times, which was torture. Of course, she’d never tell the others that the primary way she’d managed to make her contributions almost as big as those of the older three was by giving Gendry money to bet on various sports events. First of all, she wasn’t supposed to still be seeing him and she didn’t want Dad to murder him, and second of all, Dad would likely murder HER if he found out she was gambling. Even for a good cause.

“They’re not really my parents, Arya,” Jon mumbled. “I really think you five should . . .”

“And THAT has got to be the stupidest thing of all the stupid things said in here so far today!” she exclaimed, rolling her eyes. “You’ve practically lived here your whole life, Jon, and you gave the most money out of anybody! You get a vote!”

“I didn’t put money in to get a vote,” Jon said almost sullenly. “I did it because Uncle Ned and Aunt Cat have given me pretty much everything I have.”

“They love you, Jon,” Bran insisted. “You’re as much their kid as any of us.”

Jon nodded a bit, but he didn’t smile, and under his breath he muttered something like “But they never had to do that” which caused Arya to roll her eyes again.

She adored Jon. It was almost funny because even though he wasn’t technically her brother, his was the face that came first to her mind if anyone asked if she had a favorite sibling. After all, he’d been the one who convinced her mother to not only allow her to play hockey, but to let her play on the boys’ team. But if Robb could drive her crazy sometimes with his belief that things were always supposed to go his way, Jon could make her equally nuts with his insistence on martyrdom at times.

“Seriously, boys, we’ve got enough to give them a really nice vacation somewhere. Not airfare, but Grandpa Hoster said he’d kick that in so we need to come up with something great.”

“What about Disney World?” Bran asked. “They both said that was a great trip when we all went three years ago.”

“Because we were all there,” Jon said. “It was a great family trip, but neither of your parents cared much about most of the rides. I think for just the two of them, maybe someplace else will be better.”

Bran frowned. “But what will they do anywhere without all of us there? I mean . . . they never go anywhere without us--except for Dad’s work trips. Won’t they get bored?”

Arya met Jon’s eyes and both of them tried mightily not to laugh. Bran was thirteen, old enough and smart enough to understand what went on between men and women, but still young enough to be completely oblivious to the idea of their parents as anything other than just their parents. Heck, she was fifteen and had a not-so-secret much older not-a-boyfriend and still didn’t like to think too closely about what went on in Mom’s and Dad’s bedroom when the door was locked, but she had no doubts they wouldn’t get bored on a kid-free vacation!

“They won’t get bored, Bran,” Jon said. “They do like each other, you know.” He laughed just a bit and reached over to ruffle Bran’s hair. 

Bran blushed then. “I know that!” he sputtered. “I just meant . . . I just . . .”

“Don’t worry, Bran,” Arya laughed. “It wasn’t even close to the stupidest suggestion we’ve had.”

“What about you, Bossy?” Robb asked as he came back into the family room, followed by a still pouting Sansa. “What brilliant ideas do you have?”

“I don’t know,” Arya said. “But it should be someplace they would both like. So no hockey. And no ballet.”

“I never said . . .” Sansa started.

“I know you never said ballet,” Arya interrupted quickly. “I’m just trying to make a point. Nothing that just Dad loves or just Mom loves. It has to be something they love together. What do they both love?”

“Me!” Rickon offered with a grin as he walked back in with glass cleaner and a rag. 

Everyone laughed. “Well, yes, Rickon,” Bran said. “We’ve already established that Mom and Dad love all of us, but this trip is just for the two of them.”

Before Arya and Jon could even cover their smiles at Bran’s about-face on couples trips, Rickon grinned more widely. “I didn’t say us,” he said, sticking a tongue out at Bran. “I said me. They only had all you losers trying to get a kid as awesome as me! That’s why they stopped once they got perfection!”

“You wish!” Bran told him, pulling the little cushion he kept behind his back in his wheelchair out and flinging at at the youngest Stark. Of course, he hit a vase which fell to the floor and broke instead.

“I’m not cleaning that!” Rickon announced.

“Could everyone refrain from doing anything stupid for longer than five minutes?” Arya asked in frustration.

Jon, who’d been standing closest to the vase, bent to start picking up the pieces.

“They both like the country as opposed to big cities,” Sansa said. “I mean, Mom likes the city, but Dad hates it. And even Mom is happier surrounded by green.”

That was actually a useful observation. Sansa really was good at this stuff. Even if she was constantly in other people’s business and wasn’t as perfect as everybody thought. “That’s good, Sans,” Arya said. “What else?”

“Water,” Robb offered. “Mom loves being on the water. And Dad does, too, as long as it’s not too hot. No place tropical.” 

“But warm enough to swim,” Jon put in, having somehow dispatched Rickon to fetch a broom and dustpan without making a fuss or raising a protest from the kid. “Aunt Cat loves to swim, and Uncle Ned loves watching her do it.”

“Eww!” Robb protested. “That’s my mother you’re talking about Jon.”

“Yeah, I know. And it’s obvious your dad thinks she’s the hottest woman around every time he looks at her, and this IS an anniversary trip.”

“Just shut up already, Jon,” Robb said, getting a bit red in the face.

One look at Jon told Arya that wasn’t going to happen. Jon and Robb were almost exactly the same age and had been closer than any real twins their whole lives, but they did love to aggravate each other. With a wicked gleam in his grey eyes, he said, “We definitely need to make sure the hotel room is really nice--in case they never leave it.”

Robb flew at Jon and tackled him. Thankfully, nothing fell to the floor except the two of them, and neither of them was truly angry so they just wrestled for a moment with Jon laughing so hard the whole time that Robb finally couldn’t help laughing as well. “Idiot,” he muttered, as he stood up to let Jon off the floor. “Just shut up about my parents’ sex lives, okay? Five times. That’s all I’ve got to acknowledge, man. Five times.”

Of course, that comment caused Sansa, Arya, and even Bran to dissolve into laughter until Rickon finally asked, “Five times what? And you’re not supposed to talk about sex. Big Walder Frey got sent to the principal’s office for talking about sex to some girl on the playground. She called him a dirty liar and told the teacher!”

That stopped the laughter pretty quickly. 

“Hey, bud,” Robb said, going to put an arm around Rickon. “Whatever that Frey kid says about anything is probably wrong.” Arya was honestly quite impressed at how quickly he’d gone from total dork into mature responsible big brother mode.

Rickon looked up at Robb a moment, as if considering his words. “Yeah. He lies a lot,” he said finally. “Is it true that . . .”

“Later, Rickon,” Robb interrupted with only the slightest hint of red returning to his cheeks. “Ask me later. Or better yet, ask Dad.”

“Please,” Arya said. “We need to stick to the topic at hand. Mom and Dad will be home soon, and who knows when we’ll get everybody here at once and them gone again. So no more acting like idiots. Are we all good with finding someplace in the country--on a lake maybe?”

“With a great big bed . . .” Jon mumbled, before bursting into laughter again.

Normally, Arya loved seeing Jon’s playful, teasing side, but as Robb punched him hard in the arm, and Rickon looked as if he were trying very hard to puzzle something out, she’d had enough. “That’s it! I’m starting an idiot jar. Any time you do or say anything idiotic, you have to put at least a dollar in it—more depending on how stupid the thing that you said or did was.”

“Hear, hear!” said Sansa. She turned and pulled a little basket down off one of the shelves. “This will do for now,” she said. “We can get an official jar later. Now, let’s get this trip planned.”

All the boys adopted serious expressions, and everyone who’d been standing found places to sit. Arya looked gratefully at her sister. She couldn’t even remember the last time she’d wanted so much to just hug Sansa.

“The mountains,” Robb said. “Dad likes mountains, and it doesn’t get too warm there ever. But as long as it gets sunny and warm at all during the day, Mom will swim. You know her.”

“Yes!” Sansa nearly squealed. “And there are places with warm springs. I bet I could find someplace like that! And they could take long walks and go hiking and watch sunsets and have breakfast in bed and . . .”

Arya smiled as Sansa waxed poetic about the ideal vacation spot for Mom and Dad. The others actually all looked pretty excited now as she talked about it, and Arya had every confidence that their sister would get on-line and find a real-life place that wasn’t too far from the image in her head now that it seemed they’d agreed on a general idea. 

Maybe she’d keep the idiot jar (or basket), though. With this bunch, she could likely raise enough to do a vacation for the entire family next in no time at all. 

[walters-tampon-string]

The Betting Pool

Fandom: Batman

Rating: K

Warnings: Gambling.

Characters: Jonathan Crane, Harleen Quinzel, Edward Nygma, Harvey Dent, Pamela Isley.

Relationships: None

Description: Whenever one of the inmates at Arkham Asylum manages to escape, things get competitive between the ones still trapped there.

Jonathan Crane awoke to the sound of alarms.

Sitting up and rubbing the sleep out of his eyes, he found himself wondering what it was this time. Hearing alarms at Arkham Asylum was not an uncommon occurrence. In fact, Jonathan would go as far as to say it was borderline background noise to him at this point. The only level of interest they held for him at this point was just trying to guess what type of alarm it was. After all, the alarms going off could mean several different things.

There was the first level of alarms which he liked to dub ‘False Alarms.’ These, as one could guess, were the most harmless and innocent ones. These kind of alarms went off when one of the inmates thought it would be funny to pull the fire alarm to cause a little discord in the asylum or if one of the staff members accidently cooked their lunch for too long in the shitty microwave in the rec room, triggering the overly-sensitive smoke alarm. These were the most annoying alarms in his opinion, mainly because it was policy that if alarms went off, all of the inmates and staff had to be shuffled outside, whether rain, sleet, hail, or snow, and wait patiently for the firemen to arrive and confirm that it was indeed, a false alarm.

The second level of alarms he liked to dub ‘Panic Alarms.’ These were the most common. These were the types of alarms that went off when one of the doctors was being threatened or attacked by one of the inmates during private therapy sessions and they needed a guard ASAP. These types of alarms also seemed to go off a lot whenever Garfield Lynns was locked away in Arkham. How the pyromaniac was able to find so many inventive ways to start small fires was beyond Jonathan but he couldn’t help but admire the man’s creativity and resourcefulness. Perhaps he should try to strike up a conversation with the man. He seemed a little too rowdy for Jonathan’s tastes, but perhaps he could learn a thing or two from him.

That was besides the point though.

Finally, there was the third type of alarms. He called these “Major Panic Alarms.” These went off whenever some huge entity like that Doomsday monster was attacking Gotham City or when one of the inmates was trying to escape. These of course, were the loudest of alarms and the ones that got the most attention from the staff. The minute they went off, their cells were bolted shut, cops and guards would flood the halls like a bunch of cockroaches, and any inmate who happened to be out was quickly herded back into their cells lest they wanted to face the wrath of the guards who were looking for any excuse to use their police batons on someone.

These kinds of alarms were more common than they probably should be.

So as he listened, he couldn’t help but wonder what type it was. The loudness suggested a Major Panic Alarm, but then again, when it was the crack of dawn any siren would sound loud…

His question was quickly answered as through the plexiglass window of his cell, he saw two guards come running forward with their guns drawn, shouting something incoherent through the wail of the alarms. All of a sudden, a mini-tremor rippled through the ground and before he or the cops could figure out what was happening, Jonathan watched as a giant, thick green plant of some sort erupted from the floor and smashed through the ceiling. It reminded him sort of that old Jack and the Beanstalk story. The guards screams of terror were cut short as thin green tendrils wrapped around them like pythons and soon they were being lifted through the hole in the ceiling, their guns clattering uselessly to the floor.

A few seconds later, he passively watched as Pamela Isley, aka Poison Ivy, pranced past, giving her plant monstrosity a grateful pat before disappearing from sight. So that was it. Somehow Pamela managed to find a way out of her extremely chemical resistant cell and was now leaving. Jonathan hoped she managed to seduce and coax another male employee into letting her out again. He liked seeing the Arkham staff scrambling around with the media on trying to explain why that seemed to repeatedly happen…

Well, he supposed with Pamela out and about and utilizing her powers, he figured the alarms weren’t going to go off for a while, which meant he wouldn’t be able to get any sleep. Letting out a resigned sigh, he put on his glasses, got off of his bed, and idly padded up to the glass of his cell to watch the ensuing chaos.

The rest of the inmates of the asylum were awake as well, giving different reactions to the events going down. Some of the inmates were simply yelling and jeering at everyone and everything, wanting to do nothing than contribute and add to the noise and chaos. Others were like him and simply rubbing the sleep out of their eyes, trying to figure out what in the hell was going on. Some of the more mentally deteriorated inmates were crying and panicking because of the sirens, curling up in fetal positions and the like. Others were begging Pamela to free them as well. Hah, those words would fall on deaf ears. Pamela Isley cared for no one but herself. The only person he could see her possibly helping out was Harleen Quinzel, and seeing as he hadn’t seen the loud blonde dashing after her, he could only assume she wasn’t feeling that generous that night.

For an hour or so, it was nothing but the noise and chaos. Guards, Arkham staff, and police came and went across the halls, writing down a bunch of legal jargon, talking things out, assessing damages, the like. Some of the louder inmates jeered at them, but they were quite pointedly ignored.

Eventually though, the alarms ceased to sound, the employees all seemed to disappear from the hall, and many of the loudmouthed inmates, having yelled everything they could possibly want to yell, grew bored and retired back to their beds. A few doctors stayed behind to console the crying and panicking inmates but otherwise, the halls were empty except for the plants Pamela summoned from the ground. Never once did the police or Batman come walking through with Pamela in tow, leaving him to assume that she escaped. Good, that meant his patience had been worth it. Not that he was happy the woman escaped, he honestly didn’t care for the redhead all that much. But her escape meant that he would have another chance at the betting pool that was about to start.

Once things were quiet enough, Two-Face’s ragged voice was the first to cut through, “We bet two thousand dollars that the bitch will get caught and thrown back here in three weeks tops by the Bat.”

“Ivy? She’s usually got a good record of staying under the radar after escaping so she can put her plans to action, so I will thrown in three thousand dollars and bet that she will last a good two months before she gets caught…” Edward Nygma piped up two cells right of Jonathan. Suddenly, he let out a quizzical hum and said, “Unless… Quinn! Did Isley say anything to you about hiding out in the Amazon or anything?”

“I don’t know, and even if I did, why would I tell you?” Harley snapped grumpily. Something told Jonathan that Harley was feeling a bit hurt by the fact that Pamela had left her in Arkham. His thoughts got confirmed even more when she petulantly said, “I bet she doesn’t even last a week because she’s being so cocky right now!”

“Ah, ah, ah, you know that’s not how this game works, toots. You gotta bet some sort of compensation if you’re gonna participate. So you going to back that up with some sort of reward?” Two-Face’s gravelly voice growled out mercilessly, clearly not caring about Harley’s feelings. He often liked to play rule-enforcer during the bets, and took the role very seriously.

Harley didn’t seem to want to back up her bet as she simply huffed and went silent, probably to pout or cry. It seemed as if Harley wouldn’t be participating in the betting pool tonight.

Jonathan listened as the others threw down their offerings and bets. Most of them were of monetary value, but a few of the economically struggling rogues threw down various weapons or territory and other things of the like, which Harvey would allow or unallow depending on how much value he thought said items were worth.

He forgot when exactly this whole little thing got started, but at some point, the inmates of Arkham Asylum weren’t satisfied with just sitting back and accepting that one of their own escaped. They had to make a game out of it, and soon, the betting pool began.

The rules were simple. Any participating player would place a bet on how long escaped rogue would stay out. If someone managed to estimate the right time, they would be rewarded with all of the things offered. Pretty simple stuff. If a person lost, they would be forced to cough up what they offered once they escaped. Everyone in the Asylum knew better than to break these rules. Once, one of the inmates, whose name Jonathan couldn’t remember, had betted more than he could actually deliver, and when he escaped, he had tried to run away from Gotham without paying back any of his debts. To make a long story short, that same man was found dead in a dingy apartment, riddled with bullets. Anything that he had that had even a scrap of value was gone. Even his bank accounts had been completely been flushed clean. It was not a game to screw around with.

It was an incredibly hard game to play as well. Jonathan had participated multiple times now and he hadn’t won once. Gotham City was an unpredictable place and all of the rogues were unpredictable people. So many factors had to be put into play with this kind of thing. For example, results depended on how long the rogue was planning to hide from the police at the beginning, how fast the Batman caught them, the like. Usually Two-Face with his knowledge as a former district attorney and Edward Nygma, with his knowledge of statistics, were the ones who ended up winning the most games, but Jonathan wasn’t ready to count himself out yet. He’d gotten really close with a couple of his bets, and if he won just once, then not only would he have more than enough money to fund future plans, but it would give Scarecrow a wider range of territory to roam without having to worry about getting jumped by random henchmen. Plus… think of how many books he could buy with that much money. The thought was a pleasurable one.

He usually found himself placing his bets on the rogues escaping for longer periods of time, as he had noticed that ever since this game got invented, there seemed to be a recurring trend of rogues actually being out for way longer than they had been before its conception. He liked to think it was to prove a point. He knew for a fact when he last escaped Arkham a year ago, he’d actually spent more time than usual concocting his toxin and enjoying his time out before going out and striking because he wanted to cost all of the rogues who thought less of him and his abilities some major cash. Pamela rarely participated in bets, but she was also a very prideful woman and, like him, would probably want to prove a point as well. So, feeling confident, he said, “I bet a gallon of my fear toxin that she will last five months.”

Harvey and the other rogues used to be skeptical on letting him offer fear toxin as compensation. At least until all they all realized how good it was at scaring the truth out of someone or to help incapacitate officers who might be in their way during missions, so now he was allowed to offer it all he wanted. Thankfully, a gallon was easy enough for him to make too once he got enough materials, so it didn’t take way too much away from him either.

“Oooh, betting big Scarecrow,” some inmate Jonathan didn’t know the name of taunted.

He just shrugged at that, a pointless gesture considering he doubted the inmate could see him but he said, “She’s smart, got killer plants, powers, and I imagine enough money to buy any warehouse she might need to hide out in for a while. I am sure she can take care of herself.” ”

Jonathan at least hoped she could live up to the hype he was giving her. After all, it was the least the bitch could do after she had left him to die by one of her plants last time he met her outside of Arkham (thank god he had his scythe at the time which allowed him to take down the beast), so she could at least give him a good reward by not getting her ass captured.

Only time would tell though.

[dontbreakmysmolder]

Solo mentioning @ThrillofAChayse and @TheInnocentLook

Here's the thing and to be honest its pretty damn obvious, a leopard never really changes his spots. It’s an old saying but it’s one I find myself continuously falling back time and time again. Those that know me, and holy fuckin’ shit I mean the ones that -really- know me know where I have come from and what I’ve been through to get here. When I was younger I was a hundred times worse than I’m perceived to be today. My Ma knew I was a smart kid and it's thanks to her that @ThrillOfAChayse and I believe in ourselves and don’t take shit from no-one. Is she mother of the year? Hell no but whose giving out the award anyway? Our childhood was as far from perfect and at times downright shitty but I knew at least that as a single parent our Ma was doing the best she could. Skipping school to work double shifts at the local bar, busing tables and chatting up women double my age became the norm and who’s to say it was an unhappy time?

   Some of those days made me, that's for sure. I enjoyed attention and learnt from an early age that I could get it and make it work to my advantage. It’s all I’d ever known, given that Ma was always rolling in at all hours even when I was just Eight years old and Chayse was Five. I always clocked when Ma was about to go on one of her benders, she’d get dolled up, short skirt and three inch heels, paint up her face vivid red lipstick and the dark eyeliner she saved for ‘Work nights’. ‘How does Mama look,Baby...I’m hoping to get a few good tips tonight, get you those sneakers you've been askin’ for.. [I’d stand in the doorway to her bedroom, watching as little @ThrillOfAchase spun circles around the room, one of Ma’s scarfs draped round her neck, dark red lipstick painted with the elegance that only a Five year old can have, on her lips.] ‘You look beautiful Ma..you always look beautiful..’ [I remember how she’d press a kiss to my cheek as she passed, calling me her ‘Lil smooth talker, just like your father’ before gathering up her purse and telling me to take good care of Chayse and to double lock the door behind her as she left. Most of those nights I came to learn 

Ma wouldn’t come home alone, falling in drunk at three of four am with a dude in tow,sometimes someone we knew, most times someone we didn’t.

     @ThrillOfAchayse spent most of those nights curled up next to me in bed, even at the youngest age I wanted to protect her from the realities of the things our Ma had to do to keep our heads above water. Inevitably she soon came to know the harsh truths, hell she wanted to be like Ma in some respects for a long time but people grow and they change as life gets to them. So things haven’t always been smooth sailing but like anyone would we got on with it and made the best of the hand we were given. As soon as my hormones hit I was out of control in every sense, things come easy to you when you’ve grown up with good looks and the ability to charm your way out of anything. By Eighteen I firmly had a reputation around town as a player and a heartbreaker. That is putting it in Disney terms if I’m being honest, the cold hard truth was that I was an asshole and got away with it because I could talk my way out of anything. Thinking back to how immature I was, how I had zero respect for women? Yeah it makes me cringe.

There was one girl though, there was always going to be that one girl. It happened out of the blue, hit me like a steam train full force to my chest. It was beautiful, she was everything and try as I might I knew I was falling for her and falling hard. It all happened so fast, I was 21 but I knew she was it, the girl I would spend the rest of my life with. Damn folk laughed, talked shit behind my back and warned her off me, I didn’t blame them either, I’d warn me off me too. She didn’t care, she took it all with a pinch of salt and held her head high every step of the way. We got married after only four short months and were smug as fuck that it was working out and I was proving them all wrong.

Twenty one months later, we file for divorce and part ways, with not even a goodbye or have a nice life as we sign those papers and shake hands with the lawyers. I could pretend that we grew apart, that we were just too young and driven by lust but the truth is, I cheated on her and small town people, they talk. Bethany was far from angelic and we both gave as good as we got attitude wise but yeah, when it boils down to it, I fucked that one up and I know it.

The best move I ever made was to take the money from the divorce settlement and put it right back into my own business. I’d grown up in a bar, pouring drinks and drinking until I was sober was all I knew from the age of 14. It was just me and my buddy Gregg, pouring drinks and trying to rustle up business for two years straight without outside help. He had @TheinnocentLook to think about and when she fell pregnant with Travis he was more determined than ever to make this place a success. Twenty Four and joint manager of my own bar, I kept the truth from @ThrillOfAChayse that our absent father had been in contact and sent countless checks over the years. I have all her side of that money stashed away in a private bank account slowly gaining little interest. But my part of the money helped me with business and for that I was grateful. Am I grateful that our Dad was never around? No but if he's willing to try and buy my attention that's more than fine with me, I don’t have to explain myself to him and I never intend to. Fuck, rewind four years from today and my best friend passes away. I spiralled out of control, drinking every night and fucking any woman who showed the slightest interest. @ThrillOfAChayse wasn’t surprised, nothin’ surprises a Taylor when it comes to going completely off the rails.

  It was her that knocked some sense back into me, literally slapping me round the face when I was in a particularly black mood,talking shit about being a waste of space and how I’d let Gregg down. She reminded me of @TheinnocentLook and how Travis needed his uncle now more than ever and to stop being a drama queen. That’s my #Firefly, she don’t pull no punches and I adore her for that. That’s why when she up and left two years ago without so much as a warning it knocked me sideways again. Not in the way it had when I lost Gregg but it definitely made me question what kind of brother I’ve been over the last few years> @ThrillOfAChayse would say I’m her hero and maybe I’m worthy of that title but I certainly wasn’t leading up to her departure. Everyone gets involved with their own shit most of the time. I’d not clocked her struggling with things, her relationship with her boyfriend being as rocky as it was. We have always promised to not get involved with each others shit unless the other one asked but I realise now that I should have got involved when things went south for Chayse and realised she was on the edge. The good thing was I knew where she was and that she was being safe, I even called a few friends in LA to keep an eye on her. That's the least I owed her, even if she didn’t know it.

   Then there was the phone call, the one I’d been hoping on since she left but not pushing because pushing @ThrillOfAChayse to do something may just make her go and want to do the opposite.

 She’s definitely a Taylor in-that respect. ‘Hotshot? Its me, chuck whatever chick you got crashing at yours out, I’m headed your way’ No letting me know when, least not until the day before when I get a text from her from an unknown cell telling me the time she’d be in NYC and the flight number. I know she's not one for airport reunions or me being a big sap so I send a car to pick her up, knowing she will appreciate the gesture entirely. I’ve had a long night anyway, a double shift at the bar since one of the girls quit yesterday and refused point blank to work any notice. I mean I guess sleeping with her three or four times and then telling her we weren’t in a relationship, probably fuelled her actions. In my defence, I told her we were never gonna be serious and hooking up was the best I could offer. She seemed fine with it, until she wasn’t. So now I’m down a member of my crew but i figure @ThrillOfAChayse might help out if shes planning on staying a while.

I roll in around 1am, checking my phone as I kick off my shoes and strip outta my shirt, losing the rest of my clothes before I take a hot shower, washing off the stink of whiskey and some expensive chanel perfume that musta rubbed off when a tipsy brunette cornered me in the bathroom. Classy shit goes down at my place, obviously. A quick hookup or a bit of harmless flirting is all I’m game for right now, who knows when that’ll change. I pass out of my bed at around 1.30am, shortly after trying @ThrillOfTheChayse on the only number I have for her and getting no answer. I should’ve known my sister better really, though it's been a couple of years.

I wake up, blinking rapidly as the sun obnoxiously shines through the gap in the curtains, glancing over the side of the bed when I sense @ThrillofAChayse there without even having to look. I rub my hand over my face and reach across to launch the nearest pillow at her curled up on the shag pile carpet. ‘Hey long time no see #Firefly, if you ever run out on me again like that…[ Referencing two years apart in three seconds, I snort a short laugh] And breakin’ and entering..I’m glad to see you’ve been putting all I taught you to good use… Just like that, the Taylor siblings are back. Ain’t no tellin’ where this could go.

[ramblingpillager-blog]

VRC: Brandon

Brandon swaggered, as only a VR avatar could swagger, through the crowded bar. How stupid that VR bars were nearly impenetrable. It’s not like you could drink real alcohol in a VR bar. 

His ID twinkled above his head, RecklessABrandon. That made him swagger too. He was proud of that one. Took him three days to think of it, and then he had to totally redesign his avatar to match. His avatar, like Brandon in the flesh, was muscular, fit, and attractive. He spent as much time running at the gym as he did in his VR headset.

Unlike many, VR didn’t suck Brandon in for days at a time. He liked being outdoors in the Minneapolis sun. Climate change had made the central US weather pretty erratic, but Minnesota had lucked out. The winters were milder, and the lakes and parks helped make the summers a little more bearable. Plus he had hockey practice three nights a week most of the year. His VR time had to pack a lot of entertainment for each minute, since he had so little.

The hot chick at the bar watched him cross the dance floor and worm his way through a crowd of cheering sorority sisters who’d gotten wasted and come to the VR bar to fuck shit up. But this girl wasn’t into that shit, and Brandon nodded approvingly.

Of course, everybody in VR looked great. It was the risk you took, building relationships with these projections of people’s illusions rather than their physical beings. “Outing” avatars had become a pastime for a whole sector of Internet trolls, members of the jealous class who hacked into less-secure VR networks and stalked social media for any clues that might link an avatar to its owner. The fact that RecklessABrandon wasn’t afraid to have his name in his handle meant he was either too solid in real life to care what people knew about him, or he was part of the troll gangs who loved to out their victims.

Of course, it was easy to dump one avatar identity and pick up another, so almost no one knew Brandon led the r/outage board for “kills,” as they liked to call them. It was all meant to be base human cruelty, but sometimes the cruelty hit its mark too hard and victims took themselves out of VR permanently, usually via suicide. If you couldn’t VR, you struggled to get anywhere in life. Unless you were Amish. Some of the outed people moved to Amish country, no joke.

Trolling had gotten so bad, Congress haggled over two bills, one banning the use of anything but real names (it got shot down immediately by privacy advocates and domestic abuse victims groups) and another to apply a 5 year Internet and VR ban to anyone caught outing someone else. The second bill almost passed, but some of the Internet freedom groups drummed up enough fear that the government couldn’t be trusted to identify trolls unless it also had access to everyone’s usernames, profile information, and location data, something the Privacy Act of 2027 had banned outright thanks to Senator Snowden’s efforts to reform the US’s privacy laws.

Brandon loved Senator Snowden. In fact, he donated money to his re-election campaign every six years as a quiet token of gratitude. Privacy laws had bolstered security around everyone’s account information. As someone who understood those systems too well, RecklessABrandon felt little fear that his side hobby would get him busted.

The girl at the bar was still watching him. Hm. Was that an invitation? Might as well knock on this door while it was available. Maybe she had one of the new suits that let people experience in the flesh what they were doing in VR. Because he sure did, and VR sex was way better than the original. If you had the right person. And a little daring.

Brandon nestled himself into his VR rig, moving gracefully in real space within a full 360° harness that allowed him to act out every motion he was performing within the virtual environment. His swagger may have been exaggerated a bit in virtual reality - a man’s got to represent, after all - but anyone who really knew him in VR could pick out his gait as he strolled IRL.

“Hey. What are you doing in a dive like this?” he opened, hoping a slight nod to film noire might score him some points with this woman who radiated confidence and allure. Mmmmm. He didn’t need his mesh suit to tell his body parts what to feel. She generated everything he needed. 

She tipped up her chin in a manner of greeting. Too chill to be bothered to speak, he noted. “Want to join me in some whiskey and then some sex?” Brandon didn’t beat around. He’d learned that people in VR tended to be more upfront about their goals, since they had a level of anonymity to protect them. And he had to consider that this gorgeous model might be piloted by some dude in a half-assed piece of shit rig in a slum in Oklahoma City. You had to take risks, if you wanted to gain any glory. Besides, he loved outing the cross-gender VR avatars. Absolutely made his day. 

“Hello, Brandon.” Her voice came through his headset as an alto, smoky with an undercurrent of bourbon and danger. She stood up and slid over a seat so he could have the stool. He noticed her incredible figure, her size D breasts, her dress slit up the thigh allowing him a glimpse of black lace panties. If she wasn’t here for sex, she sure was hanging out the wrong shingle.

“You mean RecklessABrandon,” he responded with a wink. Gotta make sure the bitches are clear about his self-confidence. Plus the wise ones would heed the warning: This guy is fine with you knowing his real name. Don’t fuck him over, or he’ll destroy you IRL.

“Fine. Then I guess you’ll have to call me PollyM0th, if we’re going to be all formal about it.” She swigged the last of her bourbon and set the glass aside. “I’ve got a room booked upstairs, and I’ve been itching to try it out. Are you wearing a suit?”

“Yeah. Top of the line Nike 2689, just came out a month ago. If you so much as brush a fingertip across my arm, I’d feel it.”

“Excellent. Let’s see how much it can take.”

***** One benefit of virtual sex was the avoidance of pounding and shouting in the flesh, which always had the risk of generating threats from the people next door or below. Brandon followed PollyM0th up the stairs to a room at the end of the 3rd virtual floor. VR had spawned an entire industry of virtual real estate, where brokers bought and sold virtual apartments and houses for real money. It made little sense to the aging Millennials but nobody gave a shit about them anyway. Whoever hadn’t made the jump to VR got left behind, as far as most VR residents were concerned.  If you were the type to spend most of your time online, what did it matter how shitty your apartment was in real life?

This woman clearly loved her space. The oak door opened at a touch - virtual fingerprint lock technology, he noted. It wasn’t enough that the door probably recognized her ID; this was an additional security measure meant to ensure no one could hack their way into her VR space. Wise move.

The interior, as was common in VR apartments, vastly overflowed the physical “exterior” of the apartment. In virtual space, rules of geometry were irrelevant. Renters could pay for as much interior storage as they wanted. PollyM0th clearly paid for a lot.

She grabbed him by the tie (Brandon always dressed up to go clubbing; only slobs didn’t) and pulled him toward her for a kiss that was shockingly passionate. His Nike suit did not disappoint him; these models included a comfortable lightweight face mesh that enabled the wearer to experience exactly something like this, a kiss. He mentally praised his foresight in refusing to skimp on quality where it mattered.

A small file chimed in his vision. His hands were occupied though with this vixen chewing on his lip while she groped for his trousers. He put his hands to better use, feeling around her shoulders to unzip the back of her dress. It fell away revealing her naked torso. God, she was beautiful.  He didn’t even care that she was probably a 250 pound middle-aged woman from some godforsaken corn town in Iowa. He’d hack her tomorrow to find out for sure; right now he wanted the sex.

PollyM0th maneuvered them both toward a spacious bedroom appointed with a variety of chains, hooks, and posts. Ah. A BDSM junkie. Of course. He’d been a little lax lately in checking out the women he banged in VR; and as a general rule, he avoided the kinky ones unless he had some reason to believe they were good at it. Hopefully, this one would let him handcuff her, bang her, and then leave her till the cuffs expired in an hour or two. Virtual BDSM was actually pretty dull even with a good flesh suit.

As if she’d read his thoughts, PollyM0th stopped kissing and groping and looked him over. “You probably think this is dumb, don’t you, my lair of sexual fantasy and bondage. Most men do.  They just want to handcuff me to the bed, and walk out once they’re done. I hope you’re not so dull.”

He eyed her, letting his eyes wander over her gorgeous form. “For you, madam, I would do anything tonight.”

“Anything?”

“Absolutely. Do your worst. I can’t wait.” He pulled off his tie and threw it on a chair. Arms spread wide, Brandon dared her to make it worth it.

Oh, she did. Brandon lost track of time as they tumbled, groped, banged, sucked, whipped, tied, and teased their way through a pair of orgasms each. She showed little signs of slowing down, though he was getting pretty tired. His Nike suit transmitted every experience perfectly, though now he understood why the salesman had emphasized repeatedly that his suit was machine washable.

PollyM0th eyed Brandon up and down, his naked avatar reclining lazily on the bed. “I bet you’ve never actually done anything really interesting in VR,” she challenged, narrowing her eyes at his virtual penis with a questioning look.

“What? God, woman, you don’t even know me. I’ve done everything with this penis, both in the flesh and in pixels.” Brandon found himself genuinely offended.

“Are you willing to put that Nike 2689 through its paces one more time? Or are you done for the night?” She got up, turning her lucious rear view toward his appreciative gaze.

“I can take anything you can dish out. Tie me up, do what you will. I’m ready.”

“Did you notice I sent you a file awhile back?”

No, he hadn’t. His hands and brain and penis had all been busy when it’d arrived, and he’d completely forgotten to see what she’d sent. He flipped the file onto his virus checker and frowned. Yellow bar. That meant the file would execute a program. “What is this? I don’t run programs from strangers.”

She turned around, holding a metal bar and a pair of handcuffs. “If you want to put me in these, you’re gonna have to open the file. Look, my dad runs a company that writes VRware for suits like yours. That’s why I have such a great suit myself. My dad programmed the software to perfectly fit my body.  And he wrote an enhancer that works with any top-line suit. You’ll feel things you’ve never experienced before, I promise.”

He flipped the file open without a pause.

***** Oh god, oh god. This is horrible. He couldn’t say it, but it was all he’d been thinking for the past ... how long had it been? He had no idea.

If anyone had walked into Brandon’s actual apartment at that moment, they would have seen him frozen motionless in his $2500 VR rig, his ankles and knees and wrists suspended in front of him, in alignment with his head. On his screen, they would have seen the whole picture: his virtual body was locked in a steel frame, ankles and knees and wrists handcuffed to a bar that ran all the way to a metal collar around his neck.

He’d discovered some things about his Nike 2689 that the salesman hadn’t mentioned, or perhaps the girl was telling the truth about her dad’s programming abilities. Either way, once she’d locked him in place with what he thought were self-timed handcuffs, his face mesh had hardened into a mouth piece that blocked his ability to speak. The material covering his eyes went opaque, blocking his vision. And the suit otherwise responded realistically to being handcuffed to a metal bar and suspended from the ceiling.

But it wasn’t the physical pain that tore at him right now, though if the bitch was to be believed, she’d kept him cuffed for two hours already. His body suggested she was telling the truth, and his full bladder was beginning to force its way into his consciousness with urgent warnings. If I piss myself, and my girlfriend finds me in here in what looks like a whorehouse covered in my own urine, she’s going to walk out and never come back.

No, it’s what she’s saying.

“Well, Brandon, I’m glad you dropped by tonight. You know, I’ve been waiting in that hell-hole of a bar every night for four weeks hoping to find you. You’re a real piece of shit, you know that? How many people have you outed? One hundred? Two hundred? Your profile on r/outed suggests it might be closer to two-fifty.”

This is when he realized she wasn’t role playing anymore.

The virtual cuffs were made only of pixels, but his Nike suit squeezed even harder around his body, stifling his breathing and holding him rigid in places that weren’t meant to be immobile at this angle. His back ached, his neck muscles burned, his tongue felt wooly since it’d been probably 4 or 5 hours since he’d had a chance to drink any water.

“Two hundred and fifty people, lives opened up and smeared all over the Internet, for your pleasure. Dick move, Brandon. Brandon Lewis. Brandon Lewis of 365 Sycamore Street, Minneapolis.”

Underneath the mesh suit, beads of sweat formed on Brandon’s face as he blanched. If she outed him....

“Oh yes, you’re fucked. The only question is whether I’m going to fuck you and crush you, or just humiliate you.  What’ll it be?  Oh, right, you can’t say anything.” She waved a finger toward a menu and Brandon felt the mesh around his mouth loosen.

He panted and tried to lick his lips. “Please, I don’t know what you want, but this is genuinely painful. Please let me go.”

“Of course it’s painful, asshole. Why do you think I did it?”

“These cuffs are going to expire soon, right? Like, I get your point, ok? You think I’m a total dick because I outed people. Yes, I did it. I’m Brandon Lewis. Con-fucking-gratulations on your google skills, bitch--” A sharp pain shot through his back as she grabbed his virtual ankles and twisted them one way while turning his wrists and the bar in the opposite direction

“Look, Brandon, here’s the situation. These aren’t timed cuffs. I have total control of your suit. Also, while you’ve been hanging there, I’ve dumped your hard drive data and located your complete activity log for the past four years. One, I can’t believe you’re still using the same crappy hardware. Guess you put all your money into your fancy experience suit. Two, I’m about to doxx you into no tomorrow on r/outed. I know your troll buddies won’t care that you’ve been outing, but the FBI watches that board daily for clues, and I’m about to make sure they find you.

“Hopefully the FBI will figure it out soon, because I have no intention of releasing a piece of shit like you back into the wild. I’ve locked your door -- thanks for installing smart locks, by the way -- and posted the code along with your address and list of outings on the r/outed board. It’s currently 5am. Assuming the FBI checks the board first thing in the morning, you can expect someone to show up and release you by noon today. I’ve also texted your girlfriend that you were with me all night having hot sex, and she’s pretty angry with you. I think I watched her storm out the door via your security cameras. So I’d say you’ll be all alone until the feds come to lock you up.”

Brandon swallowed. He was numb all over, unrelated to his uncomfortable position. He raced for ideas, hoping to hit on something he could say that might work as a bargaining chip.

He didn’t even get to take a full breath to speak before the facial mesh tightened across his mouth, mirroring the gag PollyM0th crammed into his mouth in her virtual dungeon. She smiled. “I don’t want to hear it, Brandon. Save it for your lawyer.” She waved her left hand in the farewell menu gesture, but instead of disappearing from the frame, Brandon watched as her bedroom faded from his view. He was left looking at the grey grid of a blank program in his own developer software, watching the clock in the corner blink slowly toward sunrise.