#also sorry for photo dumping every time i finish a project i don’t even get on instagram anymore lmao. i need to brag Somewhere | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

coffeeandcalligraphy · 6 years ago

Text

Moth Work Intro + False Idol | Writing Update

Hey People of Earth!

Today I thought I’d do a writing update on a project I’ve mentioned a lot in my vlogs but haven’t mentioned as of yet on here! This is a personal ‘passion project’ that I’ve been picking away at since January and have recently taken on as my transition project from Rewired to my next book.

So yee! MOTH WORK (or ‘boys on a boat’ for those who keep up with the vlogs lols) has been my current project for the last few weeks since finishing REWIRED. I didn’t really mean to expand it as much as I have as it simply started off as a spinoff story of my boys Lonan and Harrison which I write every few months when I’m having a breakdown and need something to cheer me up. :-)

I’ve mentioned a few of these stories in the past (like Fishbowl and Mandarin), though this story is a bit different, as I’ve expanded it quite a lot more than I intended to! If you aren’t super caught up with Rewired, I’d definitely scroll through a few of my last updates so this one will make more sense!

What’s it about?

Moth Work is a FOSTERED spinoff story following Lonan and Harrison (dumb+dumber) at the peak of their relationship. I *was saying* that the plot went loosely as follows: after finding a photograph of a woman in Lonan’s father’s dark room, they set out to find her, HOWEVER, because I never stick to plans, I have yet to follow through with this main plot thread, lol. Vaguely, I’d just say the most important part of this story is their relationship at its most fragile because who is plot I don’t know her.

Moth Work follows the events after REWIRED, and is a bit of a bridge between it and the next book. This makes it kind of hard to explain because a) it’s in a different POV, and b) context, but hopefully that makes sense! In essence: Lonan + Harrison’s relationship is big sad and Harrison tries to make it less big sad and it gets even more big sad.

I’ll share a very quick profile of both of the boys so there’s some context for the following excerpts I’ll share!

Harrison

My boy

Generally very outgoing, tho around Lonan this fizzles. Only wants the best for Lonan despite their history. He’s the ‘main’ narrator of the piece (third limited to him though I’m guilty of head hopping lol), so the work has a softer tone than I’m used to. Though Harrison tries to be a Macho Man, around Lonan he’s most himself--mellow, a lil stupidly romantic, and vulnerable.

Lonan

My problematic son/probably should be cancelled

The “issue” in the relationship loool. He’s emotionally immature and lacks accountability, but because of his past, lacks the ability to recognize these faults and work on them. Because of this, he’s fundamentally stayed the same for the last few works he’s been in (if not gotten worse). Lonan requires a lot of emotional assistance, though he isn’t self-aware enough to recognize this. This is often the cause of much conflict.

Conception:

Like I mentioned, I often write short spinoff stories following these boys because it’s a safe happy place for when I’m feeling stressed. This is basically how this piece started, though I’ve continued it for different reasons which I’ll get into. I don’t remember how the first scene was brainstormed, but I do know when I started writing this a few months ago, I wanted it to be a lot longer than my previous stories--a place where I could just dump my writing, even when it wasn’t good. I think I did this to cope with the stress of my writing class honestly, lol, I think I needed a break from ‘serious’ writing AKA a place I could just goof off and have some fun.

The writing bit:

Writing this story has been a bit inconsistent. I’ve been drafting it in little pieces since the beginning of the year, and only recently picked it up as more of a ‘full-time’ work. This is subject to change depending on whether or not I get more of book 7 done. I’ve gone from writing 20 words a day to 0 to 1000--there’s really no consistency with the drafting process here.

I have recently decided that I’ll most likely expand this into either a novella or novel itself because there is literally so much tea left to explore and it’s surpassed 10k words. Drafting Moth Work has been so helpful in easing me back into the world of FOSTERED and piecing together the huge time gap from the end of book 6 to the start of book 7. I’ve been a bit anxious to really dive into book 7 for the fear of the unknown, so inching myself closer to that timeline through this project has been very helpful!

The editing bit:

I recently did an edit around the line level for this entire piece (it’s about 12k words right now) because a) it really needed it b) I was losing steam/starting to get embarrassed and c) I needed a refresher of what had happened because je suis tres forgetful. This edit made me feel so much better about the project. It initially started off as a work where the writing didn’t actually matter and this mentality was working until I got so embarrassed of the prose I found it difficult to read through old scenes to refresh myself and thus couldn’t productively draft.

This project isn’t written exactly in my usual style--it’s pretty stripped back and actually reminds me a lot of how my style would’ve been in book 3 had I been a better writer four years ago lol. I think the looser style works for the voice/the story itself but I def wouldn’t categorize this as litfic (what I usually write). Although the prose isn’t very complex, it took me a really long time to get comfortable enough to edit?? But once I got into the rhythm of it a few days ago, I completed the edit fairly quickly, and I’m 100% feeling better about the project overall! Though the prose is still not my top priority I’m not as embarrassed of it currently lols.

I also divided the project into chapters because it was getting pretty long to just be one mass of text. I currently have 3 chapters. This update will cover chapter 1.

Playlist:

Yo this is literally the best part of writing this project, lol, I get to listen to so much different music?? I’ve made a comprehensive playlist for this story with a character by character breakdown (if anyone wants to see that/highlights, let me know!). This playlist pulls from every song from my library, so we span genres and artists like crazy. Nothing But Thieves has been the primary artist for this story (specifically their self-titled album). These songs (all NBT oop) are the most relevant if you want to get the general tone lol (anything with a star has explicitly inspired the project):

Excuse Me*

Honey Whiskey*

Tempt You (Evocatio)*

If I Get High (II)

Gods

Lover, Please Stay*

I Was Just A Kid*

Get Better

Hell, Yeah*

Afterlife

Reset Me

Particles

Sorry

Number 13

Excerpts:

I don’t have *many* because prose hasn’t really been a top priority for this project, but I’ll try to include at least one per scene.

This is one of the opening paragraphs from chapter one which I’ve titled ‘False Idol’. In short, the chapter follows the boys first attempting to destroy the dark room and then getting distracted and eventually not pulling through after Harrison finds a picture of Ominous Lady.

The chapter’s chronology is wild so we can break it up as follows:

Scene A

The boys enter the dark room with the intention of burning it down

Harrison reaches for his lighter and drops it which prompts him to find the photograph of Ominous Lady

Him and Lonan mildly argue about Ominous Lady until Lonan takes it too seriously and throws a tantrum :-DD

Scene B

Not really a full scene, just a bridge between scene A and C.

Harrison has been waiting for Lonan to return to their campsite for the entire day and he decides to at the very last moment

“hey so i’m unable to apologize for anything but also! cigarette! let’s share it! lungs!”

Scene C

The boys exercising their canoeing skills

This leads us to our first “beat”.

Lonan interrupts Harrison’s peaceful evening by having a mild crisis

This takes place right after the events of Lolita, Lolita (chapter 16 of REWIRED). We then jump back to the fictive present.

This alternates like 5 more times lol then the chapter is done!

The following excerpt describes their entry into the dark room. Don’t know how smart it is to be smoking in a room full of highly flammable material but we out here.

I don’t think she’s particularly special but I also don’t hate her so!! hoping an aesthetic photo will make it read better :’)) I ! don’t ! think ! it does ! but !

Harrison shoulders the door first, traps it open with the clip of his boot. Dust and streaks of light rake behind him as he pushes through cardboard boxes, mountains of photo paper on the ground. Lonan follows silently, still wearing Harrison’s jacket. Trails of smoke from his cigarette catch in the negatives hanging by the clothespins, chemical peel between the layers of ink. In one hand he tends to his cigarette, and in the next, lugs in the canister of gasoline they found in the cabin’s cellar. As Harrison fumbles for his flashlight, Lonan sets it down by the table so it sloshes like the Pacific.

This is a bit of when Harrison finds the photograph of Ominous Lady:

He turns the photograph over, and shines the flashlight on it. It’s scratched and developed wrong, little bits of orange obscuring the woman’s face, but it’s very much a woman. A dark bob and bangs in her eyes, jewelry hanging from her septum. Sunshades enough to reflect the European street behind her. The discreet jet of ink on her skin, blues and greens peeking out from under her sleeve. Izzy, he recognizes. Lonan’s mother.

Nudging Lonan with an elbow, “I didn’t know your mom has tattoos.”

Lonan takes the photograph cautiously, holding it by the corners like it’ll burn him. His brow trembles, but it takes him only seconds to say, “That’s not my mom.” He takes the flashlight from Harrison and examines it closer, fingers nimble and tracing the edges. In the grey light of the dark room, he looks nullified. Just a monochromatic hum of chromosomes and skin.

that’s not my MOM

After the boys find the photograph, Lonan gets triggered at Harrison’s suggestion to find the woman (he presumes her to be someone involved with his father) and promptly has a tantrum and exits. This leads us into the next scene where the boys! actually! get! on! boat! In this scene Lonan tries to say sorry for his tantrum by offering Harrison a cigarette (lol) and because Harrison is hopelessly romantic and also hopelessly dumb, says yeeeees sir! They go for a canoe ride on the water. Thought it was going to be sweet, ended up being a shitstorm but!

This paragraph is kind of toast but:

The canoe isn’t hard to get into the water. After a few nudges from the dock into the slow dip of tide, it stabilizes easily. Harrison is convinced it will capsize but Lonan knows it won’t. They take one ore each, and ignore the life jackets at the back of the shed.

The moon is large and mesmerizing. As Harrison and Lonan take turns pushing the canoe into the water, mast first, then its entire belly, it colours them silver. Lonan’s protected the cigarette in the pocket of his shirt. Harrison stares at its faint outline stretched under the fabric. Lonan steps into the canoe first, rocking with the current, and extends a hand for Harrison. He pulls him in and they row until the cabin is the size of a fingernail, the wave steady and dense. Each cut of the paddle feels like plunging a scalpel into flesh and Harrison watches Lonan do it easily. In the distance, the cabin doesn’t look so menacing. Reeve has left the lamp on by the loft, and it glimmers back like an eyeball, effervescent and tiny. Nothing but a reflective penny in the distance.

Here’s some Harrison being lame:

The water laps at the base of the canoe, and Ris reaches over and touches it like it’s holy. He makes the sign of the cross and it feels perverse, cold water dripping from forehead to chin.

For a while it’s quiet. Just the distant hum of crickets, the slash of the paddle, and the off-chance flash of something in the distance; an animal, a flashlight. Ris tries not to think about Lonan’s dad, like a dead man slithering through the water, following their boat. He picks at a saltine, sucks it between his tongue meditatively. Against the sky, Lonan is backlit and lovely and flecks of his hair peek up from around the jacket’s collar. Harrison wonders if as a child, everyone said he looked just like his father.

On top of lacking accountability, Lonan is also a professional canoeist so he takes over while Harrison eats saltines and reminisces about an encounter they had weeks prior. This leads into the solid chunk of backstory that I weirdly jump in an out of for the entire chapter. :)

Backstory consists of drunk Lonan having a crisis while Harrison tries to have a peaceful evening of taping up his drawings to his bedroom ceiling. The following excerpt describes the moment right after Lonan enters the room.

Harrison’s lips secured around his cigarette, his hand mid-air with packing tape and line drawings of the moon. A tinny country song dribbled through the radio. The minute-meal he’d heat up in the microwave lying forgotten and cold on his desk. Harrison set the pile of drawings down and turned off the music.

“Emily left?” Lonan asked. He kept his face upward, stared clumsily at the ceiling. Harrison watched his eyes trace the new drawings, following the uncalculated pattern.

This paragraph is made up of 5 similes and this is the only reason I’m sharing it :)))):

Lonan has stopped paddling. The canoe sits in the middle of the lake, lifeless, like a bone in the water. He’s turned so Harrison can see him in profile, and Ris can’t tell if it’s relieving or worrying to see his face. Lonan’s jaw is taut, like there are words he wants to say there but can’t. Filling up the hollow bone. He blinks slowly, like he’s trying to re-centre himself, his chest quivering with breaths meant to steady him. The water laps at the base of the canoe, whirling. Dark hair tangles down his cheeks like the fingers of a poltergeist.

I think that’s a pretty good way to end this post lol! How many similes have you put in one paragraph? What’s your record lol this is probably mine!

Hope y’all enjoy the intro to MOTH WORK. I have two other chapters already written which I’ll update on in a separate post! For now I hope you like this more laid back project, let me know what you think!

---Rachel

#writing #writingupdates #writeblr #amwriting #writerblr #fostered #mothwork

57 notes · View notes

atopearth · 6 years ago

Text

Liar! Uncover the Truth Part 3 - Office Deception Spin-Off

New series (?)!! Let’s hope it’s interesting~ Prologue plays out pretty similarly to the first one where the heroine discovers that her boyfriend is cheating on her and so she kicks him to the curb. Crappy thing is that he cheated on her with her best friend at work, who is actually a bitch that likes to steal people’s boyfriends, so yeah that sucks. And even though she successfully catches them with the evidence, she still gets the losing end of the stick since the girl is the daughter of some chief executive or whatever he was, so the heroine ends up being shoved off into a crappy team as their team leader so that they can get her to mess up and then force her to quit. Cool thing is the janitor giving her a mop divination saying that 9 of them will be crappy co-workers but one of them will be a lifelong work partner I guess hahaha. Now it’s gender neutral! We’ll see who is the best co-worker!

1st Liar Personally, I like Keisuke’s and Mayu’s looks the most but I think Kohei might be a cool guy hahaha. I feel like this Twinkle Twinkle that leaks confidential info (their rejected Olympic emblem design), complains about the heroine and other stuff is probably Shiori, she seems pretty stupid and irrational tbh. She’s also quite rude, every time the heroine tells her to do something, she always tries to delay it somehow with a joke or whatever and it’s so obvious that she’s being disrespectful with her. Otherwise, Yusei is nice to give her a book on leadership and Guy seems quite dedicated to drawing designs.

Honestly, I think I’d die if I had to deal with someone like Shiori that leaks company info, gets caught for it, says it’s because FindFriend (Facebook I guess?) is her life and she needs all these likes etc to survive, and then even after the heroine lets her off so easily by just telling her to get rid of all the problematic posts, she’s still not repenting and is complaining about her page being blank now? Omggg, I’d kill her lol. Just wondering, but do the accusation portions not have voice acting anymore? That’s kinda saddening, I liked that :(

2nd Liar You’d think that since we’re dealing with adults, bullying and harassment shouldn’t occur but it does :( But omg though, I feel so sorry for the heroine, when she tried to present their project, her slides were replaced with porn, absolutely great… If it’s someone jealous of her this time around, then maybe it’s Chisa? Don’t feel like she really respects the heroine so… Sakurako (traitor friend) and her dad that’s the chief are so eugh, especially since the latter touched her without consent! Disgusting!

As for the person sabotaging the heroine. I find it hard to believe that even if Keisuke was a guy who felt like men are superior in life, he wouldn’t do something like this, and Chise just seems to go with her own flow or something lol. Minoru seems the most suspicious just because he tries to take over her leadership role, thinks he’s the best, tries to make it as if she’s so useless and is obviously cocky.

Wow, can’t believe Minoru was such a guy, steals people’s work, ruined someone’s career and thinks that others are so stupid compared to him, the heroine was right to demote him!

3rd Liar So.. Someone is having an office love? But eww leaving torn pantyhose on someone’s desk is pretty disgusting. Gotta admit that Daikichi seems the most sketchy, he’s way too forward and flirty. On the other hand, Yusei is so cute! I’m surprised he actually isn’t the black coffee type and actually drinks chocolate milk instead haha! I also think he’s great leader material considering how capable he is, but if he thinks supporting others is where he shines, then fair enough. He was so adorable when he admitted that he took the heroine to a fancy restaurant before because it was her, when he usually goes to dingy dirty places hahaha. I think I’m warming up to him the most right now, so I think I’d be so sad if he’s a liar later😣

Not surprised that it’s Daikichi since the others seemed to be just there to make you doubt your choice, especially Chisa lol, just because she likes to do Tai Chi with older men doesn’t mean she’s sleeping around with them lolll. Anyway, Daikichi is pretty eugh, sure, the girls are the ones who are all over him, but he accepts them, even in the most inappropriate places like the office. It’s disgusting. Lmao at the true end though, the heroine was the one who spilt coffee on his old suit and helped him pick out a new one, so really the one who pushed him into having a style change was her, and so really, she started his playboy days lollll.

4th Liar So, this time around, it’s side jobs! They’re not allowed especially after some employee created his own business and it failed and he stole money from the company to pay off his loans, so yep. So cool that Keisuke just outed Sakurako on her BS, she’s so fake🙄 In terms of employment though, I feel like Guy has the best prospects just because he’s always drawing designs, so it’s not like another skill, he can keep doing his thing at work and be honing his skills at earning money for both this and his side job imo. But then omg at Chisa lol, bringing so many products to the office and then even bringing the heroine to a party that’s introducing these products?? Sounds like a pyramid scheme lol.

Which it pretty much is.. Scary thing is that it’s brainwashed Chisa so much since all she really wanted was friends but they made her buy all these products and join in selling them etc and threaten to kick her out and not be friends with her anymore if she stopped. It’s honestly pretty depressing… The older you get, the more difficult it is to make time for friends and to make new friends, sigh… I kinda feel sorry for her.

5th Liar HAHAHA omg, when the title of the episode was the Shuto Matsuki affair, I was wondering whether it was really THAT Shuto Matsuki from the previous season and it is! Guess his soccer career is still kicking haha. Just an FYI, but the early clear bonuses have become ridiculous, I need to finish 35 episodes/tickets in 2 days, and you only get 5 free tickets a day, which means I’d need to use an extra 20 tickets to make it to the threshold. Yeah… I’d rather not read the true ends then.

Omgg, she accidentally pushed Kohei down and then called him beautiful without his glasses and her heart even thumped when he smiled hahaha. He is pretty cute though, I like him. Not surprised that someone has stolen Shuto’s watch that the heroine took off him in order to not interfere with the photos but hmmm, who could it be, who’s the crazed fan?! Reina is my guess for now haha. I didn’t think it would be Guy tbh, he doesn’t even seem to have a proper reason, he’s just into the thrill of it all which is so…boring? Pretty disappointing reveal.

6th Liar Leaking the project information to an opposing company? That’s the worst thing for an employee to do, especially when they all worked so hard on this together. Sigh, the heroine can’t catch a break. Yusei seems to know his way around ladies~ He’s a dangerous guy imo hahaha. Surprised the heroine was okay with going to Keisuke’s house to watch Office Battle and in the dark too! Lol. Anyway, super disappointed that Yusei was the spy by Daito (rival company) and he was doing it all along because he wants money and has always been a guy like that ever since he got dumped by his girlfriend that went with a rich guy. Like okaaay, just dump any morals you have for money you have no use in having now since the girl dumped you anyway so… Yeah, whatever, sigh.

I’m starting to think that May is probably the workmate that will be like her best partner at work. The president called to get rid of Kaneyama from the team and May was meeting with some guy I assumed to be her dad in the beginning, so maybe the president is her dad?

7th Liar Well…. Sending a company wide email of a photo of the heroine and her father claiming that she’s in an affair? Yeah, these guys are sure unprofessional. But wow, kidnapping the heroine, taking photos etc??? That’s so crazy weird…. Thought it was Reina, but dang didn’t think it was because she in love with the heroine and crazy obsessed with her lol, so random… Yeah didn’t like this one, didn’t think the evidence part was interestingly solved either…

8th Liar It’s cool that both Keisuke and Kohei are into the heroine, and omg when they offered their hands so that she could walk down the stairs in her heels with their support~ so cute~ But May is definitely the best to save her from that awkward situation of choosing one haha.

LOL at Kohei being a pervert that likes to listen to voices hahaha. Why are all the recent liars obsessed with the heroine in some way or another lol, so random and weird. Although I do have to admit that some voices do sound amazing hahaha.

9th Liar Aww, if it’s supposedly the President of Daito’s child doing the spy thing, I feel like it’s probably May then… But I like her so much more than Keisuke. She’s considerate, nice and fun! So sad that I was right though, all the evidence did point to her and the rest against Keisuke were so flimsy, but sigh, I don’t like Keisuke lolll. I don’t want him to be the one aiyaaa. Oh well…. I am SO SHOOK. So shocked that May is actually a guy! The scarves she wears all the time are to cover her Adams Apple!! What!!! Shocking!! I guess that’s why there’s rumours the president has a daughter or son… Wow… Still shocked. Especially when the heroine accidentally grabbed her crotch when May tried to run away lolll. Omgggg.

Omggggg that the janitor was Keisuke’s grandpa which is the CEO of the company, and so Keisuke’s dad is the president, and Keisuke has been looking for the spies all this time too, and now he’s finally got the Kaneyama father and daughter. So glad Sakurako is done. Well, now she can fully trust Keisuke now and the team has been reformed so everyone is happy lol. What a long ride.

Overall, didn’t like Office Deception as much, felt like it was a bit bland and the characters were rather boring, but I think the main problem was that their reasons for lying were so fickle and uninteresting, maybe it’s because it’s limited by an office setting. But yeah, first one was definitely much better.

#liar! uncover the truth #liar uncover the truth #liar! office deception

17 notes · View notes

straykidsscribbles · 7 years ago

Text

Slowly, Suddenly, and then All at Once

So, it’s here. The elusive CEO AU has made an appearance, after quite a lot of waiting. I’m so sorry it took so long, and thank you for waiting so patiently.

See my masterlist for my other work!

Special thanks to @kim-squishmin for proofreading, especially seeing as I have yet to learn the meaning of the word concise.

Word count: 6840

This vlive had such CEO Chan vibes I can’t

You pulled your knees up to your chest, snuggling into the blanket in front of you and the person next to you.

“You lot are way too nosy aren’t you? Well, if you must know, I’ll tell you the story of how we stopped hating each other and became your unofficial parents. But I’m warning you, no interruptions, otherwise the story ends.”

Eight heads nodded at you, and you began your tale. “It all started back when we were in college.”

---

I pulled my bag closer to myself and craned my neck to see through the crowd. I just want to see the test scores, and then I can go home and sleep. Slowly, I managed to get close enough to read the list posted on the classroom door.

Where am I… I scanned the page, going up from the bottom. Not here, no, not even by the tenth score. Wait. Is that my ID? I let out a small gasp, as I saw my ID code at the top of the list.

I’d set the curve for our first midterm. Well, that just means a lot to live up to now.

“Hey, Chan, you almost set the curve for this test. Pity you didn’t make it!” A tall boy with blond hair nudged his friend.

“Yeah, it sucks. But I mean, with the curve and all I still did okay. I wonder which crazy nerd managed such a high score.”

I felt a small needle of rage prick my insides. I had worked hard for that grade, I’d studied for three days, made study guides, and even done about half the practice problems the professor had given out. I had earned that grade through effort. Who was that upstart little twat who thought just because he got beaten by a few points?

“Excuse me.” My voice was as icy as I could make it. “Instead of complaining about people who got better scores than you, maybe you could actually try studying a little harder next time.”

“No one asked you.” The boy sounded defensive. “Unless you’re the one who managed that score? What did you do, live in the library?”

“Fuck. You.” I twisted on my heel and stormed away, feet tapping out an irate staccato on the pavement. He wants to play that game? Fine. I’m never letting him beat me on anything.

Unfortunately, that didn’t exactly work out for me. Bang Chan, as I soon learned, was about as brilliant as I was, and pretty hard working as well. We fought for top class rank, top test scores, valedictorian, you name it.

And if you think I let any of those go easily, well, you don’t know me.

Suffice it to say, Bang Chan and I were enemies. We hated each other, and that would never change. We hated each other through our masters degrees, and then even as we worked our way up the ranks of the same company. That chip on my shoulder would always be there.

I am not one to just give in and lose.

---

This is it! I bet the board will finally tell us who’s going to be the next CEO! I slipped inside the board room and went to my normal seat, throwing the usual glare at Chan, who was seated opposite me. If he ends up as CEO, I think I might quit.

“Alright, Ms. _____, Mr. Bang. We, the board of directors, have finally come to a decision. Seeing as our company has been growing at such an astronomical rate, we have to acknowledge that both of you have brought unprecedented success to this company. In light of that, we will be declaring both of you as joint CEOs of the company, effective immediately.”

My jaw dropped. “I’m sorry, sir, did you just say joint CEOs?”

“Joint? No one has joint CEOs now!” Chan’s indignance was clearly audible.

“Both of you, control yourselves! There are plenty of companies with more than one CEO, just look at Oracle or Samsung! Now then. You will be moving to the offices on the chief executive floor, and you’ll be working together to make this company even more successful. You’re both dismissed!” The board representative was clearly very irritated. Best not push it.

“Yes sir.” The two of us chorused in unison. We then glared at each other as we moved towards the door. Chan got there first, and held it for the board members as they exited the room.

I made it a point to go through the other door. I'm not being petty… okay maybe I sort of am.

Just outside my own office, Chan stopped me with a hand on my elbow. “Wait. Look. If we want this whole thing to work, all we have to do is split up the work between us. That way we don’t have to talk, and any interaction between us can be limited.”

“Fine by me. The less I have to spend with a blundering baboon, the better.”

“Oh like you’re much better with your holier-than-thou attitude and your-”

“Come in then. Let’s get this over with.” I shoved my door open, taking out my remaining frustration on the slab of wood. I sat down in my chair, and Chan loomed behind my shoulder. Pulling out a pad, I began listing duties, and we argued for the next hour over who would be doing what.

Still, I think I came out slightly on the upper hand. I got most of the things I wanted, and Chan has to deal with the lawyers, which is definitely a good thing.

Now all I had to do was do my job so well that I’d get another promotion, and Chan would get demoted to an underling’s position.

Oh, and move offices.

---

“Oh wow, this place looks so much more open without those awful dark curtains!” I exclaimed, balancing the box of files on my hip as I entered the main office area.

“Wait, will we have to share the floor? How long would it take to set up walls in here so I don’t have to see her irritating face all the time?” He’s right. We’d be sharing the huge office space. I mean I get that this would work, with CEOs who actually tolerated each other, but us? No. Thank. You.

“We will not be setting up walls, you’ll just have to work like this. We need to present a united front to any potential investors.” The board executive’s secretary, a bored looking young man, rolled his eyes. “Just have your desks facing away from each other and it’ll work.”

“Fine.” “Fine.”

I dumped the files on one desk, pulling out the chair and flopping onto it. This is going to be exhausting. Why do we have to be joint CEOs?

Chan flopped into the other chair, throwing his legs up on the desk. “You know what. We’re now CEOs, we just got promoted. I am taking the day off to celebrate. Bye Ms. ____, Mr. Kim.” He waved and got up, throwing his suit jacket over one shoulder.

Can he even do that? I wondered as I tucked the last set of files into the cabinet next to my desk. “Have someone finish alphabetizing these. I have personal business I need to attend to as well.” I grabbed my own coat and headed towards the elevator. If he gets the day off, so do I.

---

“Can you believe his nerve? The bastard actually had the nerve to go and just walk out of our office!” I yelled through the phone at my brother, Hyunjin. “He literally walked in, dumped his stuff on the table, and waltzed out the door.”

“And so you just left too?”

“Well yeah, I wasn’t going to stay and do work when he wasn’t. It’s not fair and also as CEO, I now have underlings to do that sort of stuff for me.”

“Don’t come and complain to me then if you end up with all of your stuff misplaced and your papers not organized the way you like them.”

“Hyunjin no one asked you for this kind of slander.”

“It’s not slander you’re the pickiest person ever! You literally alphabetize your bookshelves.”

“IN OTHER NEWS, how is your latest interior design project going?” I rolled my eyes. He has plenty of quirks himself, I don’t need to listen to this.

“Pretty well actually. I found this photographer the other day, and his night photos look so beautiful. They’ll be perfect for the new apartment buildings. He’s actually a photographer for one of the newspapers but he dabbles in artsy photos and so I’m glad I discovered him.” I smiled to myself as I poured myself a cup of tea. Jinnie might be a little crazy and annoying, but I love listening to him talk about his work. It’s nice to see him happy.

Settling into my chair with tea in hand and a stack of books nearby, I left the phone on speaker. Hyunjin would ramble, I would read, and we could enjoy our time together even if we weren’t in the same city. After all, that’s what siblings were for.

---

The next morning, I quickly got ready and headed downtown towards the office buildings. Even the prospect of dealing with Chan could dampen my spirits; a cinnamon roll and coffee for breakfast had already begun the day on a high note. After all, how could a day with cinnamon rolls be sad?

I entered the lobby of the building, heels making sharp clicking noises on the hardwood floor, bag swinging from my fingertips despite its weight. There was something to be said about nice shoes on a good day. They just made things better. I waved to the receptionist and headed towards the elevator, rolling my eyes at the two or three interns huddled in a corner who were giggling at- who else -Chan.

The elevator doors closed, and we slowly headed up, stopping every so often to let other people get off. There were about ten floors to go, and now it was just Chan and me in the elevator. Ugh this is so awkward. Is this how it’s going to be all the time in our office? He’s annoying and a brat but I don’t want work to always be this awkward. Still, I’m not making the first overtures. He started this, he can apologize first.

Then, a loud creak came from outside the elevator. Scrchhhhhhhhhhhhh, went the mechanism pulling us up.

And then, the elevator stopped.

Another slightly ominous creak emanated from right outside the doors, and then- silence. Utter silence.

Chan pressed the buttons on the elevator panel, trying to get the elevator to start working.

Nothing happened.

“Let me see.” I came over to the panel and pressed a few buttons too.

Dead silence.

“Okay, let me try the fire alarm? Maybe the speaker thing works?” He pressed the red button and again, nothing happened.

I took out my phone, only to find a lovely ‘NO SERVICE’ staring up at me from the top of the screen. “I don’t have service, do you?”

“Nope. Wait. Today they had scheduled maintenance for the elevators! We’re stuck here.”

“Why today of all days?” I leaned against one of the walls. And getting stuck with him? Fantastic.

“Great.” Chan rolled his eyes and dropped his laptop bag on the floor before sitting down himself. “This is just wonderful.”

“You’re telling me? Our first day as CEOs and we get stuck in the blasted elevator.” I’m not standing here, in these shoes, for who knows how long. Might as well sit down too. I thumped down next to him, stretching my legs out and crossing my ankles.

“Of all the people really, I had to get stuck with you? Why is my luck always this bad?” Chan seemed to be talking to himself, but I couldn’t let such an insult pass unchallenged.

“Okay, seriously what is your issue?” I snapped, turning to face him. “Literally from the second we met you’ve been nothing but insulting. At best you’ve been passive at times; but you aren’t even civil. Why do you hate me so much?”

“I don’t hate you exactly… It’s just…” he looked down. Could I have somehow managed to reduce the irrepressible Bang Chan to speechlessness?

“Just. What.” I demanded flatly. We’re going to be trapped here for the next few hours, why shouldn’t we get this out of the way now.

“You’re intimidating? And I put my foot in my mouth the first day we met and that was sort of bad. And then you clearly hated me after that so it was just easier to hate you too.” The words came spilling out, seemingly against his will. I’m intimidating? Really?

“Well, I was hurt afterwards, but I should have given you a chance to apologize. And I shouldn’t have been so mean afterwards… Besides you're more intimidating than me! I'm tiny, I don't know how you think I'm scary. I mean- You can’t say I’m blameless in this I’ve been pretty rude to you over the years too.”

“Yeah. I guess we both were hurt and we took it out on each other.”

“Your insults are pretty creative you know Chan. I don’t think anyone else has called me a jellyfish flavored popsicle.”

“I think your best one was ‘I’d rather get stuck in an elevator for four hours than spend another minute in your presence.’”

“That certainly played out well. Way to tempt fate, past me.” I sighed and leaned my head against the wall. “How long do you think we’ll be stuck here?”

“Depends? I mean I heard someone say that it took five hours once, but we’re the CEOs, people should miss us right?” He scratched the back of his head. “It’s been what, five minutes? I’m borreeeedddddddd, _____.”

I think that’s the first time he’s called me by my name without any sort of secondary inflection behind it. It’s… sort of nice actually. He has a nice voice. “Wait, do you have your laptop?” I asked suddenly.

“Yeah? I have it with me. But it won’t last very long, I was working late last night and I forgot to charge it afterwards.”

“Darn. I guess we could share mine then? We could watch a movie or something on Netflix?” I reached over to my bag and slid the thin silver laptop out. “Any preferences?”

“Wow, you’re letting me choose? Really?” His voice was higher pitched when he was excited.

“Don’t get too happy, it’s a one time thing. But yeah, go ahead.” I opened Netflix, moving the cursor to the search bar.

“Actually, could we just watch Daredevil? You have it on your recently watched, what episode are you on?” He leaned closer to me and pointed to the icon.

“Oh, I only just finished the first season. Is that okay?” He nodded, and so we settled in with the laptop in my lap, shoulders just touching.

About two and half episodes later, there was a sudden crank and the elevator started to move upward once more. The doors slid open and our secretaries slowly peered around the edge of the door. Are they trying to see if we killed each other? I wondered. Chan stood up and held out his hand to help me up as well.

“Wait… are they touching? And not in a passive aggressive annoying poking or death by handshake way?” My secretary whispered.

“I think they are… this is so weird. Quick pinch me, maybe I’m just dreaming,” muttered Chan’s secretary.

Chan rolled his eyes and stepped into our office. “Honestly, we weren’t going to kill each other. We just talked for a little while.”

I smirked over at the two gaping secretaries. “When you think about it, we really do have a lot in common you know.” We walked towards our desks, sitting down and beginning our work.

“I think we broke them.” Chan whispered as he wheeled his chair a little closer to me.

“There’s no think about it Chan, we definitely did.” Maybe things will be better now.

I think I’ll quite like being friends with him.

---

“_____, I’m boreeeeeeedddddddddddd.” Chan whined as he rolled his office chair towards my side of the room. He slid next to me and caught sight of my computer screen before I could close the window I had open.

“Wait. Are you playing card games online? Really. Card games? Online? When you have a perfectly good me to play with?” He grabbed my hand and yanked my chair towards him. Pulling out a deck of cards, he quickly dealt for a game of Go Fish.

Which turned into three games. Which turned into five. Which turned into us taking a half day to deal with the stress.

We played Go Fish, War, Rummy, and even attempted a round of online poker… which we lost.

We couldn’t be good at everything after all.

But at the back of my mind, I couldn’t help but wonder why on earth we hadn’t done this before. Why hadn’t we tried to get along before? We could have had years of just messing around together.

Almost as if he could hear my thoughts, Chan spoke as he was shuffling the cards. “I’m glad we decided to make up. Better late than never, right?”

“Yeah. Better late than never.”

---

“You look nice sis!” came Hyunjin’s voice from the phone speaker. I was trying to frantically get ready for the annual corporate party and I had called Hyunjin for some moral support as I prepared. This year would be the first where I would be giving a speech, and I was both excited and terribly nervous.

I adjusted the curls that were falling out of my up-do and fixed my skirt. Company colors… is that too much of an overkill? But they do look nice…. Blue looks good no matter what, and it ‘ll be good to match the branding.

“Okay, I’m ready. I’ll text you when I get back home okay? Don’t stay up too late!” I called into the phone as I reached for my shoes.

“Don’t mind me, I have color palettes to look at anyways. Are we still on for the movie next weekend?”

“Yup! I’ll arrive on Friday night hopefully. Bye!” I hung up, grabbed my purse and keys, and headed out the door. Show time. Better get used to this speaking business, it’s your new lot in life as CEO _____.

The drive passed in a flash, and soon I was pulling up to the hotel doors, where the party was being held. I handed the car keys to the valet and clicked nervously up the steps to the doorway. Breathe, in, out, this is just another party. You’ve done plenty of these, all you have to do differently is speak at this one.

Straightening my spine, I walked in the double doors. Almost immediately I was swept away by one of the board members.

“____, this lovely lady is the head of the regional bank! Mrs. Lee was just telling me how they were considering investing in the company, do you mind giving her more details? I must go find my wife, she wanted to bid on one of the charity auction items.” He walked off, leaving me in the company of an older woman with steel gray hair and a sharp smile. Her eyes were hard but intelligent; clearly, this was a woman who’d worked her way up in the bank as well.

“How can I help you Mrs. Lee?” I asked, turning fully towards her. A new banking partner would be wonderful for the company, especially as we were dealing with a great deal of financial expansion. Let’s hope this works…

As we were talking, I heard soft giggles coming from behind me. There were a few interns, probably here for their first corporate party, standing in the corner and staring openly at Chan, who was talking to an older gentleman with a cane in one hand. I rolled my eyes. Some things never change. Those look like the same idiots that were giggling in the lobby earlier. Honestly why are people such idiots?

I finished up the conversation and handed Mrs. Lee a business card, asking her to stop by my office any time. Now then, to deal with those imbeciles. They’re ridiculously loud and they are being completely unprofessional.

As I walked over to their corner, I noticed Chan approaching them too, from the other side. Good. If both of us tell them off, they can’t do anything.

“Excuse me, do you three mind? This is a corporate occasion, and you should be acting with a little more decorum than you are currently.” My voice was scathingly cold.

“We were just admiring Mr. Bang. That’s not a crime, is it?” One of them blinked innocently at me, but I was having none of it.

“I don’t care what you were doing. You were all loud enough to be heard a good twenty feet away, and this is not the time for you to be behaving in such an unprofessional manner. You may be young and inexperienced, but that’s no excuse at all.”

Just then, Chan came up behind me, sliding an arm around my waist. What is he doing? We’re barely friends at the moment WHAT DOES HE THINK HE’S PLAYING AT?” I turned to look at him, eyes already narrowed sharply.

“If you all could just please keep it down?” He asked, smiling at them. “You’re being terribly disruptive to everyone here.”

One of the girls, the most brazen of the lot, opened her mouth. “Oh, Mr. Bang, is she your date? You guys are matching.” Fuck he’s wearing company colors too. We had to have the same outfit ideas great this is wonderful.

I was just about to protest, but Chan cut in. “Yes actually, she is. So… if you could excuse us?” He maneuvered me away from them, and shook his head when I turned towards him, ready to ask just what he was playing at.

Behind us, I could just make out the tail end of their conversation. “Well, I wonder if the other CEO is here too? Maybe we could get them to go out with us.”

Chan took me into a side room, and immediately dropped his arm from around my waist. “Okay before you say anything, those interns have been basically following me around for the past three days. They’re all freakishly persistent, and I just needed an out please help me? Please, ____ I’ll buy you expensive chocolate too.”

“You do realize they’ll notice when we’re back at work right?”

“But tonight they’re being especially persistent. They were following me ____. Following me.” He pouted sadly at me, and I figured I had to take pity on him. He looked miserable.

“Okay then. Come on. As it is, we were supposed to sit together for the dinner anyways. Are you speaking before or after me?” I pinched the bridge of my nose. “Also, we should probably look into getting them assigned to the mail room or have them sorting through databases or just something mind numbingly boring as punishment for making both of us uncomfortable.”

“I’m speaking right before you. And thank you. Really. I was so sick of them… Hopefully this works.”

We wandered for the next hour or so, making small talk and just generally networking. All the while I could feel my nerves getting worse and worse. I’m going to talk in front of so many people what if I mess up what if I forget what if I just stand there and blank. My mind just kept running a loop of bad scenarios- the worst things that could happen.

Then. Show time.

I slipped into my chair as Chan walked up onto the small raised stage at one end. He spoke for a good five minutes, yet I heard absolutely none of it. See, he’d done a speech last year, as his pet project was one of the main expansions of the company at the time. He had at least some experience.

Oh. He’s waving me up. Okay. Let’s go. I slowly left my seat, focusing on just getting up there and not tripping over any of the speaker cables on the floor.

Five minutes of insane courage. Five minutes. You can do this. I shuffled the index cards I’d hidden in my clutch and gripped them tightly. “Good evening everyone, thank you so much for coming out here. It’s my pleasure to be welcoming you as one of your new CEOs. Chan and I have great plans for the company, and we hope we’ll be able to take the company to new heights.” I steadied myself with another deep breath and continued on, discussing the vision I had for the company and what new ideas we would be trying to implement for the next few years.

All too soon, it was done. I smiled, introduced the board president, and left the stage, tottering back to my seat on wobbly yet satisfied legs.

“You were fine, well done love.” Chan whispered into my ear as I sat down next to him.

“You did well too, thanks Chan. I’m just glad its over and done with.”

It didn’t register until I got home that he’d called me love. And I’d liked it quite a bit.

---

“So. Chan asked you to fake being his date, and called you love, and you matched, however accidentally, and you didn’t collapse after your first speech in front of the whole company. Well done ____ you’re alive!” Hyunjin threw a pillow at me. “Why are you so good at overthinking stuff?”

“Jinnie shut up you’re being mean! It was scary and there were loads of people and you know I’m still not used to it. I guess the only thing that was funny was seeing those interns’ faces when they saw I was the other CEO. One of them actually had his mouth wide open in shock it was glorious.”

“You know what _____ you seem to be enjoying yourself aren't you? And things seem to be better now that you and Chan are getting along.”

“True.” I pushed a lock of hair behind my ear. “Work is definitely a lot more fun. Last week we actually were both so sick of finance reports that we ended up just playing cards the entire afternoon.”

“Did you win?” Hyunjin’s eyes were wide with humor. “If you lost you better have milked it for all it was worth.”

“I lost a couple games… and maybe Chan owes me expensive chocolate now… maybe. But I'm admitting to nothing.” I smiled into my tea cup.

“Look at you you're actually smiling like an idiot just thinking about him. You know I had no idea I was getting a new brother in law so soon. You're still having me as your man of honor right?” He winked at me cockily, referencing our childhood agreement. As tiny children we had decided that if we ever got married we would be each other's best maid/ man of honor. I should have known that would come back to bite me. Why did he automatically jump to marriage I don't even like him like that. We're friends. That's all. Though… I mean Chan is sort of handsome. And smart. And clever. And he has a great sense of humor.

“Shut up Jinnie I don't like him like that. We are barely friends.”

“Last year you said that if you had to choose between kissing a frog and shaking hands with Chan you'd kiss the frog. And now you're blushing just thinking about him.”

“Drink your tea before I throw it in your face.” Hyunjin just rolled his eyes and got up, picking up a sofa pillow.

“You have three seconds to run before this turns into a pillow war.” His voice was completely deadpan but the grin on his face said otherwise. I just reached for a pillow of my own and attacked back in turn.

Sometimes all you needed was a pillow fight with your brother to get rid of annoying, hallucinatory, and clearly false thoughts about a certain CEO.

That night though, I slept fitfully. All I could picture were chocolatey eyes and dark hair that curled softly in the heat of the banquet hall and a soft voice comforting me.

Okay so maybe Hyunjin wasn't totally wrong. Maybe there is something going on here. It's just a crush though. I'll get over it soon. Bet it'll be gone in a week, I told myself.

---

Two weeks later, I was clearly rethinking said earlier idea. My little crush hadn't abated; in fact it had just gotten stronger. I spent most of my time burying myself in paperwork so that I would be able to avoid Chan’s friendly overtures.

It wasn’t working.

He. was. just. so. persistent. He brought me coffee one night when we both stayed at the office until 2 am, he wouldn’t stop thanking me the day I got takeout sandwiches for both of us at lunch.

How on earth was anyone to get a grip if there was literally no respite from his charm?

I was in the middle of looking over the latest deal with a new company that was trying to expand into a more international area when Chan’s voice broke into my thoughts.

“Hey, _____, do you like rap?” The question was a bit out of the blue. That’s an… odd question to ask?

“I mean, I do like it I suppose? Why do you ask?” I turned in my swivel chair to face him.

“Well… you see, a couple of my friends and I sometimes have little rap gigs at this one club near by? I was wondering if you’d be interested in coming to watch us perform.” His voice was a little higher than normal, almost as though he was… nervous?

“I- I’d love to come! When is it? Should I bring anything with me?” I hope I don’t sound like some sort of idiotic ditz.

“Our next show is this weekend actually, on Saturday. I’ll text you the address later, yeah?”

I nodded softly, and we both turned back to our desks. But at the back of my mind I couldn’t stop thinking about this new information.

Chan raps? Since when? I had no idea! Does he mean this as a date thing? Or is it just a “hi, let’s be friends” thing? I’m overthinking it, he’s just being friendly and trying to get to know me outside of work.

Enough wishful thinking, _____. Get a grip.

---

That Saturday, in the back of the club, Changbin and Jisung were treated to a very interesting spectacle.

The Irrepressible Bang Chan, CB97, CEO of a major company and a respected musician and producer, was pacing their dressing room with one of the worst cases of pre-performance stage fright nerves ever.

Pacing. Wringing his hands. Frowning. Mumbling to himself. Turning right before he hit the wall only to almost trip over a chair and wipe out on the floor.

“Channie-hyung, this is weird. Normally Jisungie is the one freaking out like this?” Changbin raised one eyebrow at Chan. “What’s going on?”

Jisung just smirked happily. “I know why he’s panicking~” he said in a very smug, singsong tone.

“Jisung you will keep your mouth shut if you want me to buy you cheesecake any time in the next week.” Chan’s voice was tight with nerves.

“I’ll buy you cheesecake every day for the next two weeks.”

“Done. Channie-hyung’s flustered because _____ is coming tonight.”

“Ohhh that makes sense don’t worry we’ll put on a great show for your girlfriend!” Changbin waggled his eyebrows at Chan, who just flopped into a chair and thumped his head on the table.

“She’s not my girlfriend, she’s the other CEO at work, and we literally started getting along like a month ago so you can shut it.”

“Wait isn’t she the one you used to complain about to Woojin basically every day when we were in college?”

“You know what Jisung? Your cheesecake privileges and your Jeongin privileges are gone. You aren’t allowed to talk to my son anymore.”

“I thought we were your sons too!”

The room devolved into chaos, and a makeup brush and some cords were thrown back and forth. But somehow Chan’s heart felt a little lighter after his friends’ gentle teasing.

They’d always be there for him. Even if he managed to completely ruin this. Which was looking more and more likely by the second.

---

I slipped inside the club after showing my ID to the bouncer. It looks pretty packed. Oh, yay, corner table! I sat down and ordered Coca Cola, not wanting to risk getting anything strong.

A few minutes passed and I was well settled in, facing the stage.

A spotlight turned on, and three boys stood, clustered in the middle of the stage. Chan stood in the middle, wearing baggy sweats and a t-shirt, his hair tousled lightly. The other two boys were dressed similarly as well.

The music began, and they started whispering amongst themselves. “Hey look over there, she’s pretty!”

“Where? Where?”

“In the gray, over there.” To my surprise, one of the boys next to Chan pointed right at me.

The boy who had pointed looked oddly familiar. Is he one of Hyunjin’s friends? I think he is. He began rapping, sticking to a soft slow rhythm. He had on a flannel and what appeared to be oversized boots with the laces wrapped multiple times around his ankles. His voice was sweet and sort of lazy sounding, like he was trying to lure you in with his words.

The music changed, and all three spoke at once. “Wow, oh man, she’s hot.” I raised both eyebrows, shocked a little at the directness of the song. Well, they certainly weren’t messing around were they?

The first boy continued for a little longer, then the one on the other side of the stage continued. “With a smirk I suddenly enter / I’m sorry sorry you’re already hit on and deflated.” His rap was more nasal sounding and faster, clearly distinct from the first boy’s style. He wore all black and a baseball cap pulled low over his eyes; he held his mic close to his lips with one finger over his lips. “There’s nothing to be envious about” he finished, and they began the chorus again. This time the audience laughed along with them and sang a few of the words with them. Clearly, this was a pretty popular song for them.

Then, Chan started rapping. His voice was softer than the previous boy’s, and it sounded incredibly good. I can’t believe he never said anything about this! He should have mentioned something, he’s amazing. I let the words wash over me, just listening to the music.

Suddenly, his voice broke into my thoughts. “I’m just a nice guy with a lot of money”

My head snapped up, eyes widening. Did he just say he has a lot of money? Who writes these lyrics? Wow Chan I get that you’re a CEO and all, but this is a touch blunt.

His eyes swept over the crowd, meeting mine just as he said “Let me take you to a restaurant.”

I couldn’t stop the blush that erupted across my face.

He kept going, and my blush just got darker and darker. I had to fight the urge to hide my face in my hands. His eyes were locked with mine as he rapped.

I barely heard the end of the song.

As the applause began, the three of them bowed to the crowd.

“Hey guys, we’re 3RACHA! I’m CB97, this is J.One, and this is SpearB.” The other two bowed and waved in turn. “We hope you guys enjoy the show! This next song is called Hoodie Season.”

This time a drum beat opened the song and I could stop myself from nodding along to it. This is really catchy. They’re so good, I wish I’d heard them before! But are they actually talking about their love for a hoodie? Can’t say I blame them.

The night went on for a while like that. They performed a few more songs and then bowed their way off the stage to thunderous applause and cheering from a few somewhat crazy looking boys in one corner of the club.

I swirled my Coca Cola in its bottle, staring into the brown whirlpool it formed. What on earth did Chan mean by inviting me and then literally staring at me when saying things like “Hey baby I’ll make you my lover / I’m thankful that I’m warm in the fall / I’ll hug you wherever I go.” Is he just going along with the lyrics?

Just then, Chan slid into the chair opposite me. “So. _____. How was it?” To my surprise, he actually looked a little nervous, as though he was unsure of my response.

“You were amazing! I can’t believe you’ve been hiding that skill for so long! You’re a really good rapper and your vocals are so smooth.” I couldn’t stop myself from gushing after seeing the enormous grin that spread across his face as I spoke.

“I’m glad you liked it.”

“How could I not? I’m only sad I didn’t get to hear you sooner. Though you have no idea what you’ve unleashed, now I’ll be asking you to sing all the time at the office.”

“Well, with such a lovely audience, how could I ever refuse?” He winked at me, and I felt my cheeks heating up again.

A small gurgle sounded, and to my surprise, Chan’s ears got a little red as well. “Ah… after a performance we normally get pretty hungry.”

“Well, CB97, how about I take you to a restaurant?” Where is this confidence coming from ABORT ABORT.

“After you then, my lady.” He held out his hand for me and I took it, wrapping my fingers around his.

We stepped outside, a wall of cold air hitting us as we left the warm club. Turning down a couple of sidestreets, we entered a chicken shop that was open late on weekends.

“Order what you want, I said I was treating you!” I mock glared at him as he tried to pull out his wallet. He complained but ordered anyways, and we settled into a booth to eat the chicken happily.

We didn’t speak much while we ate; Chan was clearly quite hungry. After our meal Chan insisted on walking me back home before heading to his apartment.

I invited him in to warm up for a bit before heading back home, and he came in willingly. I made green tea for us both and was just about to turn off the kettle when Chan came into the kitchenette.

“_____, I sort of have a confession to make. I invited you to see our performance because I really wanted to impress you.” He took a deep breath and, forestalling anything I could say in return, spoke. “I like you. A lot. I understand if you don’t really like me in that way, I mean we only just became friends recently, but I would like to be more.”

My mouth dropped open. “You- you actually like me? I thought you were just trying to be friendly this whole time. I like you too Chan, I mean how could I not? You’re really sweet, talented, and I mean… after tonight’s thing I’m not entirely sure I’m worthy of you.”

“I’ll be the judge of that.” He moved closer and pulled me into a hug, wrapping his arms around my waist.

The kettle puffed away behind us, forgotten.

Chan went home that night a little bit giddy. I lay awake in bed going over the night’s events in my head.

Who would have thought after the worst first impression in history we would end up… dating I guess?

---

“And that’s how we got together. Happy now? Curiosity sated?” you asked as you finished your tale, sipping water from the glass in front of you. After that long story, your throat was dry from talking so much.

Chan poked you in the ribs gently. “So you started to fall for me at the party? I was way before you I was crushing on you by the time we were trapped in the elevator together.” He leaned over and hugged you tightly, nuzzling into your neck.

“Ewwwwww! Affection! That’s it, I’m out!” yelled Jeongin and Seungmin as they jumped up from the floor where they had been listening to your story.

You rolled your eyes. They did ask for the story didn’t they? Whatever.

And you snuggled closer into Chan’s arms.

#stray kids #stray kids scenarios #sk-writersnet #straykidsdirectory #bang chan #stray kids bang chan #chan #stray kids chan #cb97 #chris bang #stray kids imagines #stray kids x reader #stray kids fic #bang chan ceo au #ceo bang chan #frostscribbles

874 notes · View notes

fordarkisthesuede · 7 years ago

Text

At the Brink of Midnight - Chapter 9

*Arrives two days late with Starbucks* ‘Sup, guys! σ( ▼∀▼)σ These past 96 hours have somehow filled me with a weird chaotic energy, and I pumped out the longest roller-coaster of a chapter I’ve ever done in such a short amount of time!!! Thank you, whoever sent all the writing vibes my way!!!! ★>d(,,･ε´-,,)⌒☆ I’m sending out strong vibes to everybody in return! *May you get hit by the writing bug and have the opportunity and energy to completely translate your ideas to printed words!*

Buuut a big note before we get to the good stuff: I realized too late that the original events of S2 take place in Spring. Like…April. I was writing all of this with the thought that S2 took place in fall; I mean, the characters can wear a leather jacket or a couple of layers comfortably, so I thought “yeah that sounds like early autumn”. Nope! So that means that for this story’s timeline, everything gets shifted into where it should be. On the downside, that means I had to go through and edit all the bits where it said “it was totally spring, you guys”. On the upside… IT’S NOW OCTOBER!!!!! THE SPOOKY SEASON THAT COMPLETELY FITS WITH WHAT’S GOING ON!!! And coincidentally, it’s my favorite time of the year, so I love writing about it even more! I get to add in a thing here and there about the spookiest time of the year, so I’ll have a nice list of what those little changes are uploaded here soon if you don’t feel like re-reading the whole thing. A re-read isn't necessary though, just keep in mind that the humid air of rainy spring in the city is replaced with chilling fronts and even more cloud cover than usual. Why am I bothering with this? Because I’m a stickler for keeping with canon as much as possible and I feel like an absolute fool for not remembering what goddamn time of year it was to begin with. (I mean, I went so far as to download all of TeamFourStar’s play-through because I watched it so often, you think I'd remember to go back and watch the very beginning once in a while…)

Anywho, thank you all again for your continuously loving support!!!

♡~(ɔ ˘3˘)˘⌣˘ c)

Important Spoiler Tags: drugs (mentioned), swearing, canon-typical violence, electric shocks (mentioned), torture of flowers, flirting, almost an excessive use of emoji, crying, romantic dirty thoughts

Read on Ao3 or continue below:

Chapter 9: Grapevines

Bruce Wayne couldn’t remember the last time he’d conducted a meeting from his home office. It wasn’t as if he didn’t use it – the desk surface had hardly any dust settled on it and two empty coffee mugs he’d forgotten about on two different occasions just happened to be stacked behind the monitor – but it felt strange, like a lot of things did lately.

He knew part of the reason for that was watching houses down in the Batcave right now. Knowing he wasn’t alone in the house was comforting, but knowing there were two cops outside the Manor’s front door just waiting for a chance to grab his best friend-cum-houseguest was not, and knowing that they were both close to being thrown in hot water was even less so.

He figured the other reason he felt strange was because he was slipping back into his old habit as if it had never been shelved in the first place. He had time to kill before the video meeting started, so he’d been scouring for information on “Pam”, Jonathan Crane’s ‘old friend’.

There were a few Pamela’s in Gotham, but only one fit within Crane’s age-range and attended Gotham University at about the same time: Pamela Isley, a forty-four-year-old former botanist with a record that ran the length of his arm. Theft, assault, threats, and attempted poisonings all done in the name of extreme environmentalism and social activism were sprinkled in her history before and after her days as a researcher, and according to GCPD records, she was now suspected of running her own drug-ring under the moniker of ‘Poison Ivy’. (Bruce found several recorded instances of people claiming to be Poison Ivy, most of whom were already arrested.)

Bruce would’ve wondered why on Earth she hadn’t been thrown in prison when she made a bomb-threat at a wealthy businessman several states away nearly a decade ago if he hadn’t seen her mug-shot from back then. At thirty-five, she looked every bit as beautiful as a top-billed Hollywood star, with natural orange-red curls cascading over her pale shoulders and ample bust in chemically-tamed waves, flashing the camera a come-hither stare that made it look like she was trying for a part in a high-budget porn flick rather than standing in front of a height chart for her criminal record. Pamela’s charges were mysteriously swept under the rug.

The latest photo he found of her reminded him a bit of those ‘cougar’ dating ads he’d seen – the older Pamela was blowing a kiss to the camera with a mocking look in her dark green eyes. Bruce glared at it. There was little doubt she was using people to cover for her constantly, and when she was in trouble, she managed to wriggle out of it with her looks.

Not this time. She was friends with Dr. Jonathan Crane, and that meant she wasn’t going to get out of this unharmed. The second his virtual meeting was over, Bruce was heading towards Toxic Acres, and hopefully the wounded Crane would still be there to see Batman’s fist hit his –

Bruce snapped out of his thoughts at the buzz of his phone. A message from the BatComputer…?

I’m bored :/

Bruce blinked down at the screen. John had found the emergency messaging system. Of course he had. He was just grateful that the encryption software on his phone was still up to date. Just what else did John poke his nose into down there…? (There was the chance that John would see files he shouldn’t, but Bruce kept those under a thumbprint encryption. He shouldn’t even entertain the thought.)

Stake-outs are usually pretty boring.

It wouldn’t be so bad if you were down here tho! :)

Bruce hovered his thumb over the keyboard, unsure of what to say. The feeling was kind of mutual, if he was being honest; having another person around on a stakeout would at least keep his mind wandering into the worsts of what-ifs and double-checking every last security issue…

No movement on either houses btw. Been reading Crane’s docs in the meantime but it’s DREADFUL!!! I feel like I’m reading a sleeping pill… =_=

You finish your WE stuff yet?

Meeting’s not for another 20 minutes. Been looking up stuff on Crane’s “friend”.

Oh??? :o Do tell!!!!

Bruce couldn’t help but smile at the enthusiasm.

Pamela Isley, former botanist w/ criminal rec., mostly extreme protest kind of stuff. Good chance she’s the head of a drug-ring that moved here a couple months ago; their leader goes by “Poison Ivy”.

They went to college together, but Pamela moved back here recently.

hMmMmm…. That means no burning the place down if we’re stuck! Bad fumes everywhere xP

Bruce focused on the word “we’re”. He hadn’t been planning on bringing John along. He wanted him safe, at home, where no one had a chance of seeing him and he wasn’t put in harm’s way…

Oh!!! You’ve got a bunch of sticky electro-shockers around - do you mind if I tinker with them? :3c pleeeeaaasssee?

What are you thinking of doing with them?

Making one BIIIIIG shock-bomb, of course! ;D I can wire them together so the shock spreads evenly in the space while it’s discharging.

Bruce reconsidered bringing John. He was still learning to curb his impulses, so being outside in a fighting environment would be a serious gamble, but... Maybe that could be their advantage, too. Bruce made a mental note to go dig out the spare bullet-proof vest from his closet’s secret panel.

You can do that?

I played around with making something like it before, but……well, you know.

Time + supplies for that project were low att. I figured I could always go back to it later anyway.

Bruce felt like his heart had deflated and swelled in such a short time that it hurt.

I mean I’m fine with throwing knives around too but I figured that would be less discrete ¯\_(ツ )_/¯

He’d been thinking of different methods of entering the “house”. Most of them featured a silent slip-in and as little combat as possible, but he knew that there would likely be some muscle around to stop any would-be intruders, and getting a quieter jump on them would certainly be helpful. He would certainly be lying if he said he wasn’t impressed that John had thought that far ahead even back then.

If you think you can get it done within 1.5 hours, then yes.

Ha ha ha with these supplies I can get it done in like 40 mins! >:3 just you watch!!!

Btw have you seen the news?

Not yet. Why?

I was on the morning edition! At least they used a good pic ;D

But also saw a guy getting fished out of the harbor. Your handy-dandy invasion software said he’s a registered Ryde driver.

I told you not to fiddle with that.

Sorry, but I only used it the once! Promise!!!

Bruce sighed through his nostrils.

Besides I thought you’d want to know. Think Crane stole his ride and dumped him by the docks? :v

Probably. I can get the plate from up here to verify. DO NOT TOUCH THAT PROGRAM AGAIN.

Yes sir ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)

Bruce wasn’t sure if that message was supposed to be flirtatious or mocking.

The incoming call from Iman Avesta stopped him from responding. He figured it had to do with John’s escape and the extra security added at Wayne Tower this morning, but why was she calling him now, rather than several hours ago?

“Iman?”

“Hey, Bruce. Hold on a sec – there we go, now we can both -”

“Bruce, what the fuck?” Tiffany asked over the line. “Are you at home right now?”

Bruce almost sighed at the attitude. “Yes, Tiffany, I’m at home, in my office.”

“Uh-huh. I keep getting alerts that your basement’s messaging system is being used. Care to explain that?”

Oh. Of course. He’d forgotten Tiffany had linked her phone to that, too. It’d just…been too long, he supposed. (She couldn’t read them, though, could she? He was fairly sure it didn’t give out mass-texts unless prompted.) “…where are you right now?”

Iman responded instead. “We’re in your second office.”

“…the line’s secure?”

“Of course.” Iman paused, and Bruce knew his new CSO was choosing her words carefully. “I’m guessing you have John Doe in the Batcave?”

“Yes.”

“Bruce, did you fucking break him out?” Tiffany asked with no shortness of impatience.

“I rescued him,” Bruce said firmly. “I know what you’re thinking, and I have a pretty good idea of what you’re going to say, but listen: I had no choice but to take him with me. One of the doctors working at Arkham has gone rogue – he’d been doing experiments on patients, and I have a feeling he’s going to continue them on civilians. I need to find him before then, and John has been helping me.”

“Helping…? You’re not bringing him in the field with you?” Tiffany said disbelievingly. “After that psychopath almost killed us?”

Bruce could still see Joker running at Tiffany, knife in hand, his psychotic breakdown in full force. He could still see him being smacked against the railing, sheer madness played over his long, bloody face as he desperately fought to stab what was his hero.

But John and Joker were as much the same as Bruce and Batman were, and they were constantly changing.

The Joker in the Batcave wasn’t the same one from Ace Chemicals.

“I know what John did,” he answered, trying to breathe even as something wanted to hitch in his throat, “and I know how far he’s come since then. I know you both regret-”

“No, I’m not listening to this right now,” Tiffany scowled, her voice fading in the middle her sentence like she was leaving the room. “Talk some sense into him.”

Bruce heard Iman’s voice call after her, and then nothing for a beat.

Iman sighed. “I’ll talk to her. But Bruce,” she started seriously, “Tiffany isn’t the only one worrying about you. Six months can’t possibly cure everything wrong with a man whose spent his life in an asylum.” He could practically hear her chew over her phrasing. “I need to know… If John goes too far – if he shows signs of regressing…or just becoming more volatile – I need to know you’re going to put your foot down.”

“I’m more than capable of handling him, Iman.”

“Please, Bruce, I’d rather not have to pull you off another broken pipe lodged in your kidney.” She paused, and Bruce let her continue, feeling the scar in his side twinge at the painful memory. “I know you care a lot about him,” she resumed in a softer tone, “and I know you trust him. But if you doubt him at any time, you need you to step back and re-evaluate your choices. I don’t want him to regress back into the Joker.”

That was a different Joker, Bruce wanted to say. He knew that wouldn’t sound the way it should. “I promise I won’t let that happen.”

“Good to know,” Iman replied, sounding somewhat relieved. “This doctor you’re hunting – is there anything we can do to help?”

Bruce shot a look at the clock in the corner of his monitor. He didn’t have as much time left as he would’ve liked before his virtual meeting started. “Tiffany can fill you in a bit, I had her help searching Arkham’s records before. Can you run a plate for me? I think Dr. Crane is running with a stolen car; I’ll send you the details in a bit.”

“Sure. We can check traffic cams for it, too, if you’d like.”

“If you would. And the second I have anything concrete on Dr. Crane, I’m sending Tiffany the details – I need her pull as Oracle to get the word out to the GCPD before anything happens. They’ll listen to their number-one informant more than a vigilante coming out of retirement.”

“…you’re…?”

He could almost see the shock in her face. They’d had a short discussion about his alter-ego when he decided to quit the first time; she’d been incredibly understanding about the whole thing. It was almost as if she’d seen it coming.

“Are you sure?”

He was as sure. She didn’t know about the instincts broiling underneath his surface every day. She didn’t know he never really stopped being half of himself. She wouldn’t know or really understand that he just shoved it all down and aside like he did so much else just to get through things. “I don’t have any other options at this point.”

“…you know you can count on us if you need the help.”

“Of course I do.”

“Right. Well, in the meantime we’ll keep the fort over here running as smoothly as possible.”

“Thank you. I’ll talk to you later.”

“Good luck.”

The line went silent, and Bruce pulled his phone away, catching a glimpse of three unread messages.

Sorry, buddy, I was just kidding around, you know? Ha ha

Bruce???

Hello???????

Sorry, had a phone call and couldn’t reply. It’s fine.

Seconds ticked by, and Bruce began changing out of his black t-shirt and into his button-down. It wouldn’t do to appear as a CEO in anything less than a proper suit. He could leave the jeans on, at least.

“Oh! Uh…sorry, Bruce…”

He felt his heart stop for a second. That was definitely John’s voice, even though it crackled slightly from the speakers. The monitor didn’t show anything out of the ordinary. John must have been using the spy-camera feature on the Batcomputer; it was linked to most the devices in the house, and Bruce’s webcam was no exception. He’d almost forgotten it had a loudspeaker function, too.

“I didn’t realize you were…um, changing.”

Bruce glared at the webcam’s lens. “John, what did I tell you about fiddling with the Batcomputer?”

“…sorry. I was worried when you didn’t answer me.”

He sounded genuine, at least. Bruce could easily picture him running upstairs to find him, if there wasn’t a chance he would’ve been seen. “I answered you a minute ago. I was on a call with Iman,” he stated plainly, fixing the buttons on his sleeves.

“…oh, ha ha, there it is! Uh, I guess I’ll just…go, then…”

Bruce almost questioned why John was sounding nervous and distracted, but it wasn’t until he saw the webcam light wink off again that he realized his shirt was wide open, the scars littering his torso half on display from the waist up.

Thankfully, no one was around to see Bruce bury his face in the palm of his hand for a moment, feeling like his face was on fire from first and second-hand embarrassment.

It didn’t last long. Bruce took a few deep breaths as he fixed himself up, and dialed into the meeting with a fixed expression of calm, firmly ignoring the heat that had settled in his stomach that threatened to go lower at the thought that John was bound not to forget any of that.

Driving the Batmobile in full gear again was certainly something else. Bruce felt the weight of the Kevlar body armor press against his limbs as he sped down Gotham’s twisting alley streets, no one any the wiser that the Wayne’s red sports car was hiding Batman behind it. The city’s CCTV signal was scrambled with the flick of a switch as he came into driving distance of the alley’s camera, making him almost untraceable.

He’d given the Honda Accord a head-start; it couldn’t go nearly as fast as the Batmobile, and Bruce had to find a spot to safely change before going to go pick John up from his drop-off point, and the post-working-hours traffic had already gotten its usual early start. It was a slower drive than he’d like it to be, even with Bruce’s shortcuts.

The setting sun was completely obscured by a dark overcast. It made the orange streetlamps glowing over the decorations sitting here and there in windows and doors even more energetic, like every corner of Gotham was slowly growing with the energy of Halloween.

Bruce clicked the communicator in his cowl. “John, are you there yet?”

Silence for a few seconds, and then a rustling noise. “Sorry, I had to take this off for a bit. What?”

“Are you there yet?”

John giggled slightly. “Oh, yeah, I’m here. Just waiting on you, pal.”

He was already at the meeting point? How did he get there so fast? “You put everything back where it was supposed to be?”

“No, I stripped the seats and threw everything into the garbage,” John grumbled with dripping sarcasm. “Of course I did, it’d be rude not to put Jerry’s stuff back. What do you take me for?”

“…I’m just making sure you didn’t forget anything.”

“I didn’t.” There was a loud slurping noise, like the last of a liquid being sucked from a straw.

“John, where are you right now?”

“In the alley, waiting for you.”

“Did you make a stop?”

John giggled, a little louder, but not at all nervous. He was enjoying himself. “What can I say? Going out on the town with you like this makes me thirsty,” he said with a strange purr. “Besides, no one bats an eye at me when I look like this anyway.” He paused. “Well, no, I’ve gotten some eyes on me, but, uh, I think they’re more the appreciative type. I guess ZZ Top was kinda right about the sharp-dresser thing.”

Bruce felt his brows knit together. “You’ve always looked sharp,” he said truthfully, turning down a narrow alley.

“Yeah, but not thousand-dollar-suit sharp. There’s a difference! Plus I think this bullet-proof vest makes me look a little bulkier than I actually am.”

Bruce spotted him leaning against the graffiti-covered wall, a Burger Lord cup in one hand and a plastic orange bag in another. Just how much time did Bruce lose while he was changing?

John tossed the drink in the dumpster and practically jumped into the car, shoving the orange bag behind the driver seat and slamming the door shut as Bruce switched off the communicator. He took one look at Bruce’s questioning glower and gave a nervous sort of grin. “Hey, don’t look at me like that, there’s something in there for you, too.”

Bruce almost asked what, but decided that a lecture on keeping a low profile and not taking money from his house’s various hiding spots would have to wait. (Though he supposed whatever John got wasn’t expensive. He was quite frugal, and it wasn’t as if Bruce couldn’t afford to buy John whatever he wanted anyway.) He concentrated instead on heading down the twisting path towards Toxic Acres. At least the traffic over there was a hell of a lot lighter.

“Hey, when you drove me to the Batcave, did you go in fourth gear, or third?”

He wasn’t sure why he asked, but he honestly couldn’t remember. He just recalled putting his foot to the floor and keeping his eyes on the road, occasionally reaching over to check John’s pulse. “I wasn’t really paying attention to that; I concentrating more on driving as fast as possible.”

“Oh – so you didn’t know you could punch the shift down into third whenever you wanted? It was so fun! I can say I literally punched it out of the Batcave!” He laughed. “I’m guessing you can’t do that in this car?”

“…I’ve got paddle shifters.” They were starting to travel into the more deserted road leading into Toxic Acres. Bruce took a sharp turn onto the hill with the broken Do Not Enter sign, and checking that no one was behind him, flipped the switch to shift the car into armored plates and pressed the wheel-paddle for a lower gear.

They flew down the road with a whirring whine of the engine, John’s notorious excited laugh mixing with it, and Bruce allowed himself to smile a little at it, knowing his own little joyful thrill wouldn’t last very long.

John was soon tapping his fingers together in some kind of rhythm as they passed by more empty houses, Bruce moving a little slower to keep his eyes out for trouble. Sitting close to the river on the outskirts of the city, they were originally meant to be a long neighborhood for the middle and upper class to build their lives, but as the unemployment and crime rates rose, the place became abandoned. It didn’t help that the piping structure to carry water there had been faulty, making either lead poisoning or unfiltered dirty water a prominent problem and giving the section of Gotham its nickname.

“How do we know which place is the botanist’s?” John asked, his green eyes scouring the houses in front of them.

“I sent out another drone earlier for some aerial shots. There’s a place with camouflaged green-houses in the back on Aster Place.”

“Wow, you did that before I left? That was fast…”

“It was a quick job. I’m not picking up the other drone until later.”

They turned the corner onto Aster Place; the road would dead-end in a while, but Bruce knew the house wouldn’t be situated at the end.

“Oh, there’s the spot Jackie got shot at!” John pointed ahead. “I wonder if there’s a bloodstain left…!”

Bruce tightened his grip on the wheel. “We’re close.”

It was oddly quiet out there. There was no other sign of life in what was a hot-spot of criminal hide-outs. Bruce turned on the thermal vision in his cowl; a lot of the houses were actually empty for once.

Except for one. 1801 Aster Place. There were a group of people scattered around on the bottom floor and what appeared to be a lot of heat-lamps running on the top floor. If one of the people in the group wasn’t Pamela Isley, then she might have been holding up in the basement…

They left the Batmobile out of sight down the road, and Bruce and John moved swiftly behind the backs of the houses in the chilly night air, the taser bomb safely in John’s coat pocket; John was surprisingly quiet, only humming a familiar tune here and there. (Wasn’t it the theme from that old spy-thriller…?) Bruce managed to quiet him with a look, and John mimed locking his mouth shut and throwing the key away.

Two unknown people were standing in what used to be a kitchen; three more people were up in the front room of the house. There were no security cameras to be seen.

“Stick close to me,” Bruce whispered, the modifier in his cowl deepening his voice. “We go in through the back window, take out the two in the kitchen quietly and throw the bomb up front so we can cuff the lot. If none of them are Ms. Isley, we find the basement.”

John gave him a thumbs up, pulling out the riot baton he had hidden away. (Bruce had still not remembered when he or Alfred bought that, but vaguely remembered stashing it in the towel cupboard with some other emergency gear. He wasn’t surprised John found it.)

The bathroom window’s locks weren’t difficult to break. They looked like they had been broken several times already. Bruce slid the insect screen up and slipped in through the thin opening feet-first, twisting his limbs just right to softly land on the floor. He had to help pull John through the rest of the way after he smacked his head on the bottom of the window; thankfully he hadn’t made any noise, but he did give Bruce a strange look as brushed himself off where Bruce had gripped his sides.

Bruce didn’t have time to think about it.

The two people in the kitchen stood in semi-darkness, watching through the patio windows with rifles leaning against the wall. There wasn’t so much a bare bulb to give off light. Bruce figured their eyes might have adjusted to the dark, and signaled John to follow as he crept up behind the two goons.

“I dunno, with all the hype surrounding episode four, you just know those guys are going to mess up somewhere. Remember when they decided to let Celestyne drop to his death back in season one?” The one with dreadlocks asked.

“Oh, come on, that was just to test the game’s limits. Besides, Celestyne couldn’t die; I don’t think Jane can, either,” the second person responded in a higher voice with a casual shrug.

“Dude, you know the game’s gonna make her a villain in the end, though, right? She might die…”

Bruce was ready. John was gripping the baton with a widening grin…

“Are you kidding me? They have her affection meter up so high I’m surprised the game doesn’t have a dating opt-”

Bruce slammed dreadlocked goon’s head into the wall just as the baton crashed down on the other goon’s skull, little smears of blood marking the plaster and paint with a satisfying crack.

John clutched the collar of the goon he’d struck, gripping the slightly bloody baton a little harder in his other hand. He seemed to be thinking.

Bruce took a zip-tie out and cuffed the goon’s hands behind their back, and wondered just what John was staring at until he’d turned the person around and caught a glimpse of them in the light of the window.

They were both women with little tattoos of vines creeping along the back of their necks.

If Bruce guessed right, those were ivy leaves on the vine. Poison Ivy had a loyal gang.

John zip-tied the wrists of the woman he’d struck and patted the part of her head that wasn’t wounded. “Sorry,” he whispered as if she would hear it. “Lauren’s ex,” John mumbled, gesturing to the woman on the floor as if he knew Bruce had raised his eyebrow at him.

Bruce simply swept onward, spying the door for the basement. There was a light on in the front room, and three women who looked like they could be professional boxers of different weight categories were sitting in different areas. One was sharpening a knife at the table, and another was cleaning a semi-automatic rifle as the third kept watch over a monitor showing security camera footage; three looked to be by the greenhouses (Bruce recognized the Foxglove variety growing in one under an opening in the glass, sitting next to something that looked primeval), and two were watching over the plants upstairs (marijuana, by the looks of it) and in the basement.

There was a figure in the last screen, working over a row of potted plants with low lamps. A zoom-in with Bruce’s lenses showed long red hair.

Bruce felt a hand on his shoulder, and John crept ahead him, the taser-bomb in hand: it looked like a mass of the sticky-bombs grouped together, colorful wiring connecting them all like some kind of net, and before Bruce could do or say anything, John threw it into the living room, where it tumbled into the middle of the floor.

The group began to shoot out of their seats in a second, and in the next the ball seemed to expand like a geometric toy, the wired tasers being thrown in the air with a flash before smacking people and surfaces alike as they discharged. All three people fell to the floor in trembling heaps, and John dashed out and started to cuff them, Bruce close behind.

The electric bombs were safe to touch now that they had fully discharged, so Bruce had no qualm about stomping on the lightly-burning sections of carpet underneath some of them to prevent any spread of fire as he pushed them aside. The bulkiest goon wasn’t quite down for the count; she was still conscious.

She yanked John off her fallen comrade by his shoulder and threw him into the table’s edge. Bruce threw a Batarang at her arm just as she was about to punch, and John gave a swift knee to her stomach as she flinched.

She fell to the floor with a louder crash and a grunt, pulling the Batarang out from her arm and letting it drop to the floor. “You fucker…” She said, glaring up at John before looking over at Bruce, her eyes widening as he approached with more Batarangs at the ready. “B-Batman…?”

“Yup! He’s real,” John said playfully before smacking the side of her head with the baton. “And so am I,” he added with a growl. He decided to tie her wrists behind the nearest table leg. “I hate not being able to call myself Joker like this… Really sells it better.”

Bruce felt his heart twitch at the name. “You can call yourself that, if it helps,” Bruce said gently, tying the monitoring-station woman’s wrists together, “Just not to people’s faces.”

“Kinda defeats the point,” John grumbled.

Bruce shot a look at the security monitor – Pamela Isley didn’t seem to have heard anything. Still, precaution should be used. “Let’s go,” he said plainly, sweeping out of the room with a swish of his cape.

John tucked a hand into his pocket and followed.

The basement stairs were carpeted and quiet, but Bruce was careful to walk on the outsides rather than the middle. Spiders had clearly made themselves right at home in the damp corners of the walls, and he had to duck to avoid getting the tips of his cowl’s ears stuck in one of their webs. A soft sort of click was heard behind his back, and Bruce figured John had gotten out his grappling gun.

Pamela Isley was bent over a row of exotic-looking orchids posed under heat lamps, dabbing something into the center of a blue orchid’s petals. Bruce saw several troughs full of hallucinogenic mushrooms sitting on the other side of the wall.

“There you go, my darling,” she cooed in a honeyed voice, acting like she was carefully painting the center of the flower, “You’ll soon be the belle of the ball…”

Bruce eyed the electrical box on the other side of the room. It wouldn’t do to drown the place in darkness; he’d be able to see, but John wouldn’t. The best bet was to tackle and restrain her.

Or…

Bruce took out his own grappling gun, and aimed it at Isley’s collar. One click, and it snagged her shirt with practiced ease.

“What the-?!”

Pamela Isley was suddenly dragged yelping through the air at an angle, smacking hard into one of the tables and spilling several unusual potted flowers to the floor.

Bruce grabbed her and threw her to the concrete floor, standing over her with several Batarangs in his hand as John cackled beside him.

“Jonathan Crane,” Bruce growled out, “Where is he?”

Pamela Isley sat up, shock written all over her face as she processed exactly what happened – it quickly morphed to a steely stare. “Batman,” she said slowly in a sweet voice, “I thought you were an urban legend,” she continued, wiping the corner of her mouth where a dribble of blood leaked out. “Do you always treat a lady this way?”

Bruce dragged her up by her collar and threw her against the wall, keeping her at arm’s length. “I know he bought plants from you today. Tell me where he is.”

“Or what?” She taunted, smirking widely at him. “You think I haven’t been knocked around by men before? I’ve been in whole worlds of hurt, honey.”

There was the distinct sound of the grappling wire rushing through the air, and then an enormous crash – John had taken out one of the mushroom tables, the fungi now breaking and bouncing against the floor it the scattered in the dirt.

“Whoopsie,” John hummed, a wide unnerving grin on his face, “butter-fingers.”

Isley looked rather taken aback, but the expression quickly warped into a mocking glare. “You think destroying my inventory is going to intimidate me?”

John shrugged, leaning back against a table and knocking over a several small tropical plants with a slide of his hand, shattering the clay pots and sending the plants scattering to the hard floor.

That definitely got her attention; her face paled slightly and there was tremble in her. “Stop that!”

Bruce glared at her, mentally thanking John for his quick thinking. “Tell me where Crane is and I’ll consider stopping him from tearing this place apart.”

Her dark green eyes glared at him with a slow-boiling dislike. “Let me go first.”

Bruce did a very quick once-over; she didn’t seem to have a gun holster on her, and she was definitely a lighter build than the rest of her gang. Knives were still a possibility. He decided to let go, keeping a Batarang between his fingers just in case as he stepped just out of her reach.

Pamela dusted off her green turtleneck. “I don’t know where he is, and I don’t care. He bought a few of my flowers and left,” she said, crossing her arms.

John laughed, fingering the leaves of the blue orchid she’d been attending. “With a hole in his shoulder? You didn’t even offer a band-aid for that?”

Pamela was closely eyeing the plant in John’s hand. “What if I did?”

“I know he’s a friend of yours, Isley,” Bruce growled. “You’re the only one who could know what he’s planning.”

“I told you, I don’t know,” she stated, “and I don’t care. I’m not his mother.”

“I can see why you were paying such close attention to this one,” John hummed, fingering the petals with a gloved hand. “It’s so pretty. You put a lot of effort into keeping all these, huh?” He grinned at her, almost looking like his usual self. “It’s not just some financial scheme for you, is it?”

“Of course it is,” Pamela stared at him, trying to keep her voice level; Bruce noticed her eyes kept flicking slightly downward, like she was watching the plant. “I breed and sell rare plants to collectors on the side.”

“Oh good! So this won’t bother you!”

In a swift move, John cut the blossom off the stem with the bowie knife one of the group upstairs had been sharpening.

The blossom fell to the table, and Pamela Isley looked as if she’d seen a ghost.

John picked up the blossom. “Let’s see – she’s honest,” he said playfully, plucking a petal from the stem, “she’s not!” He pulled another.

“STOP IT!” Pamela shrieked, making to rush at him – Bruce pulled her back and pointed the tip of the Batarang at her face. She glanced at it fearfully, but then looked back at the flower being torn apart in John’s hand, and it looked like she was watching a child die before her eyes.

“Stop that,” Bruce instructed; John hummed and held it still. “Talk, or my partner and I crush every plant in this place.”

Isley stared at the flower in John’s hand. “I… I don’t know what he’s planning,” she said quietly, her voice cracking slightly. John only touched the tip of a petal before she spoke again – “But-! But I know… He’s building something. He didn’t say what, but he asked for some muscle - I hooked him up with some of Maroni’s old boys.” She shut her eyes and took a breath before glaring at John like he was a complete monster. “I hope the lot of them tears you limb from limb.”

Bruce forced Isley’s hands behind her back and zip-tied them. “Down on the ground,” he growled, pushing down on the top of her head. John pointed the grappling gun in her face with a smirk; a good insurance if she decided to try and elbow Bruce in the face.

Pamela shot them both a hateful glare as she knelt down, and it didn’t waver as her ankles were tied, too. “I won’t forget this,” she spat.

Bruce sent off a message to Tiffany regarding the coordinates of “Poison Ivy”’s headquarters from his gauntlet. He knew she’d get the word out before he could even get back in the car. “Tell it to the judge,” he taunted, leading the way out of the basement, not missing the sparkle in John’s eyes as he followed, the severed, torn orchid blossom having been carelessly thrown at Pamela Isley’s feet.

John gathered up the sticky bomb device before they hustled back to the Batmobile, and it wasn’t until the doors closed that he spoke, and when he did it was in a tone Bruce would almost call revered.

“So, what do we do now, partner?” He asked, a definite glow on his face.

“We go look at some of the Maroni gang’s old haunts and see if we can find anyone recently hired,” Bruce said, the voice modifier in his cowl now disabled. He glanced at his recent text messages: one from Tiffany giving the ok on Poison Ivy, and another from Iman with the last known location of the stolen Ryde car. “After we look into the motels in the red-light district. Crane might’ve stayed there.”

John laughed to himself, but for once he didn’t share the joke; instead, he pulled out a packet of jerky from the plastic bag he’d brought along. “I knew this would be a long night,” he said cheerfully, as if he was really looking forward to the whole thing.

It was well past one in the morning when Bruce arrived back home through the front gate, the Batsuit stowed away and the plates flipped back to red. The two patrol officers were only somewhat surprised to see him arrive back. Naturally, they reported nothing new, since John had been dropped off in the Batcave first.

Sore muscles were nothing new to Bruce. The old strained climb back up to his bed was just as annoying as ever. He honestly didn’t feel like he wanted to sleep, but after following several empty leads over the city and bruising a few heads alongside John, he did admit that he was physically exhausted. He knew lying down was better than nothing, and he still had to go to work in several hours like he didn’t have a double life. At least he wasn't starving, thanks to John thinking ahead and buying him protein-and-carb-filled snacks.

He forced himself to go through his usual nightly routine, despite the temptation to just flop into bed and lay there. He looked at the bruises on his back and ribs from where John had struggled against him under the influence of Crane’s drug, and decided not to bother putting the bruise-away cream on them, nor on the new ones forming on his shoulder from where one of the former mobsters had hit him.

When he did finally collapse onto the master bed in nothing but his boxer-briefs, his brain still decided to chat away at him.

There were no leads as to who exactly Isley had hired for Crane. Bruce cursed himself for not trying to work the specifics out of her. At least he knew she was arrested for drug possession and manufacturing, as well as smuggling illegal fauna.

There was no word on the whereabouts of Jackie Lant. Her car was missing, and she’d called into work sick. Her apartment hadn’t been visited in the entire time Bruce had his drone’s eye on it, and neither Tiffany nor Iman had seen anything when they looked into Jackie’s friends’ places, either. All Bruce knew was that she hadn’t called an ambulance to fetch her from Toxic Acres, that she hadn’t been admitted to a hospital, and that there was no sign of her body either in the Acres or in the Gotham River.

She was alive, somewhere, and Bruce didn’t know what she was going to do next. He hoped she was just going to lie low until he caught Crane.

Jonathan Crane was nowhere to be found. His house was still empty. He didn’t seem to be staying at any of the motels – or hotels – around the red-light district or its surrounding streets, and nothing had come of a quick credit-card check. The Ryde driver the GCPD fished out of the River that morning had been shot in the head, and his car was so common that if Crane could’ve switched the license plate with anything and been completely invisible. They’d done a quick search of the warehouse district and found no sign of him there, either.

Bruce had the nagging feeling that he wasn’t going to find Crane until the doctor reared his head.

The billionaire rolled onto his stomach, shoving the anxious thought away as he pressed his cheek further into the plush black jersey pillowcase. There were a couple more places he could check tomorrow…

The bedroom door creaked, and Bruce’s eyes shot open, a second away from grabbing the billy-club under his pillow – he could see John’s messy hair in his dark silhouette.

“Bruce? You awake?”

“Yeah,” he mumbled.

“…can I come in?”

“Sure.”

Bruce noticed he closed the door behind him. Like he was planning to stay there.

That definitely put a new light onto the situation. A tense thrill was building in his shoulders as John deigned to sit on the edge of the mattress, his back to Bruce.

John was only wearing his Arkham-regulated pants, and the pale white of his bare skin almost shone in the light streaming in from the window. Bruce saw several bruises forming, one of which was from where he’d gotten grabbed by the shoulder by a Poison Ivy goon, and several more where he’d gotten knocked into.

“…I don’t think I can sleep in that guest room,” John sighed. “I mean, I tried my usual methods of sleep induction, but… It’s too big…and empty. I’m really not used to that.” His voice came out quieter and more contemplative. “I know it’s weird, but do you mind if I sleep in here?” He asked, turning halfway to look right at Bruce.

He felt trapped. If he said no, at the worst John would sulk, and at the best John wouldn’t get any sleep, and that was definitely worse for his mental health. John had mentioned before about how regular sleep cycles were supposed to help with that.

If he said yes, though, he’d know he was sleeping next to John, and there was the tiny worry in the back of his head that John might…try something. Or at least roll over too much.

“I promise I’ll stay over on my side,” John muttered, not tearing his eyes away.

“Alright.”

A sweet smile stretched on his face. “Thanks, Bruce. You won’t regret this.”

“If you keep talking, I might.”

John giggled as he slid beneath the covers on the far side of the bed, flopping one of the extra pillows down between them. “There – a no-roll barrier,” he said as if he had to explain the concept to Bruce.

It did not escape Bruce’s attention that John had decided to lie facing him and rest his arm on top of the pillow. John had pulled the covers up to just underneath his armpits; Bruce could see John's sharp collarbone and the lean wiry muscle of his chest. (Bruce made sure not to look for more than a moment's curiosity would allow.)

God, John’s face was actually his for the first time that whole night. Bruce had gotten used to seeing it in the natural makeup, but it was almost a relief to see it in its normal borderline-luminescent white. He looked like the man Bruce knew.

Acid-green eyes stared at him, flicking slightly and growing soft. “I…did want to talk to you about something, though. If it’s okay.”

“I suppose I’m still awake,” Bruce said in an attempt to lighten the tension in his arms. “Sure.”

“Do you ever…look back on something, and think about the worst thing that could’ve happened in that situation?”

He didn’t like to admit it, but he had. Usually in his worst moods, he’d think about how everything could’ve gone wrong. He’d usually think about everything he could’ve done better, too. “I try not to, but…sometimes, yeah.”

“I’ve been thinking about our fight a lot, lately,” John confessed, “At Ace. I used to think about it a lot when I got recommitted, but… You started visiting me,” he said softly, a light smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. “You remember when I told you I thought I’d messed things up for us?”

“Yeah.” It was Bruce’s first visit to John. He never forgot the sheer hopeful joy on John’s face upon seeing him. It was practically engraved in his memory.

“Ever since I started sessions with Crane, I kept going back to that night. He always tried to weasel my worst secrets out of me,” he said with a low scowl, “but when he started using that…toxin on me… I kept…thinking about what could have happened back there. I… I know I almost killed you.”

The sheer pain reading in John’s eyes was enough to make Bruce want to wrap his arms around him. It was beautiful and raw and honest, and Bruce found himself holding stock still, almost captivated by the expression.

“I kept seeing it. Over and over – it was like I could see myself throwing you over the railing or-or stabbing you, or...” Bruce saw tears welling up as John clenched the pillow between them. “I don’t want to come close to that again, Bruce,” he managed to say, his voice starting to hitch. “I don’t… I don’t want to kill you.”

Bruce threw his pride away and grabbed John’s hand in his. “You won’t.”

“You…you don’t know that,” John said with a light sob. “If…if I…go back to how I was… If I mess up...”

Bruce squeezed his hand, feeling the soft skin twitch under his fingertips. “I won’t pretend you’re perfect,” he said, honesty seeping through every word, “but I know you, John. I know you’re not going after Crane out of revenge, like you did with Waller. You reached out to me for help – but you were already trying to find a way to stop him without resorting to just stabbing him with the nearest shiv.”

John sniffed, a tiny twitch at the corner of his mouth like he was almost smiling. “Yeah…”

“So you’re not the same person you were then, are you?” He soothed with a supportive smile. “Even if you feel you are going backward, I know it won’t be to that same point.”

“Maybe…” he said with another sniff, looking more serious. “But Bruce, you know there are things I can’t ever really stop, right? The auditory psychosis is pretty much going to stay with me the rest of my life,” he started, clutching Bruce’s hand back, “and I’m not going to lie here and pretend my pulse wasn’t pounding a mile a minute when we were fighting those mobsters out there.” He sported a small knowing grin at him. “You know what that’s like, though, don’t you…”

(Yes, he did.)

“…you know what’s funny? I used to think one bad day could turn a person completely upside down.” John managed to stroke his thumb against Bruce’s knuckle, sending a little shiver over the skin, and Bruce wondered if John knew how incredibly intimate that gesture felt as he stared softly at him from the pillow. “Especially after Waller came to town… But…I never really thought things could go back up after it. I guess it just…takes a while.”

Bruce knew there was something right in John’s line of thinking. It only took one day to turn his life on its head, and he felt he knew, despite John having no memory of his life before Arkham, that something similar had happened to him. “Well…they say time heals all wounds.”

“How much passed before yours started to heal?”

He almost didn’t want to answer. The truth was that he wasn’t sure at all if he was ever going to fully heal, despite knowing what his parent’s really were. Maybe it was because he knew the terrible truth about them that they wouldn’t ever heal right. Maybe he’d always have that miserable note in the background of his life.

“…I’m still healing.”

“I didn’t say you stopped, buddy,” John chuckled with a knowing look. “Still…got good days and bad days, huh?”

“Feels like it, yeah.” Today…was definitely more of a mixed day. Looking at John across from him, though, all honest and open, and thinking back to how it felt to fight alongside him again, and investigate with him, with that warmth and instant familiar comfort between that never faded away, he almost felt like he wanted to call it a good day. “Today might have tilted things right-side up.”

John laughed, a genuine, humored one that was almost infectious. “Now I know I’m rubbing off on you; that sounds like something I’d say!”

John slipped his hand away and turned to lie on his back, still chuckling to himself. The warmth still burned in Bruce’s palm, and he found himself reluctant to pull his hand away at all.

John turned to him once more, an all-too-familiar affection shimmering brightly in the green depths. It pulled Bruce in and made him feel like he should inch close enough to feel the warmth and security it promised. “’Night, Bruce.”

“Goodnight, John.”

John turned over, leaving Bruce to stare at the bruises forming on his shoulders. There was the terrible temptation in his hands to shove the pillow between them aside and wrap his arm around the man’s middle so he could lean into that pale, battered back and bury his face in a head of soft, green hair.

There was a worse urge, one so vivid it almost made Bruce’s head spin – he could just reach out and touch the bruises, feather-light, and trail his fingertips down the curve of spine until it arched with a pleased shudder, and Bruce could follow that trail with his mouth as far as John would let him.

Bruce turned his head away, the memory of John’s lips on his coming to the front of his mind, and he shut out the mental image of repeating that kiss right then and there, telling himself that he really shouldn’t feel that way towards someone who desperately needed support, nor to his best friend who he’d left scarred in more ways than one, and certainly not someone who was both.

It had been a long time since Bruce shared a bed with someone, and far, far longer when he shared one with someone he didn’t have sex with.

He hoped that was all it was. Just the bed’s memory getting to him, and nothing else…

Notes: Super-sexy-plant-person-in-her-late-twenties Ivy is OUT. Cougar-aged-mobster-botanist Ivy is IN! >:)

I really wanted a different Ivy. I’m tired of the young, uber-sexy walking plant-human-hybrid that’s immune to all toxins and diseases; plants get diseases, too, and she’s so plant-like she should have some kind of physical humanizing weakness! It’s much more interesting to have a human who’s just built up an immunity and uses her babies for weapons and business; I kept her serious environmentalist trait, though, because while I dislike the anti-hero thing she’s got going on lately and would love to see her as a straight-up villain again, we do have to relate to her somehow, and her love of nature is always going to be a good part of her. Since Harley’s older, too, I figured it would be alright if they had a ten-year gap between them, so when Pam eventually goes to Black Gate one day, they’ll be pals. ;)

And Bruce you complete fool!!!! You should’ve kissed him!!! Why do you do this to yourseellllfff? D:

I'm sorry it took so long, but as you can tell, I had a lot to work on, and I’m doing my best to write the next chapter as quickly as I can while this nutty energy in my brain is still fresh. I’m trying to keep with my weekly schedule, but I hope you guys are okay with having a gap day, as appears to be the habit now. ( ._. ) I mean, no one yells at me or anything for being late, but I aim to please with my work, and part of that is being consistent.

I shall continue to try my hardest! (*｀へ´*) 彡3 See you next weekend!!!

#batjokes #telltale batjokes #juce #atbom #at the brink of midnight #fordarkisthesuede writes #I had a lot of fun coming up with a different ivy!#i like the idea that she heads her own gang despite being rather anti-people #like she doesn't even consider them when the JUCE force shows up #then again goons are rather expendable in the batman universes aren't they?#i can't believe i worked in a nod to TFS's playthroughs of TT bats #i still laugh when i rewatch the first season and they just let Selina drop #all because they were curious to see what would happen #so will ivy's info have an impact on future events?#only time will tell.........#also i'm serious about those writer vibes #i'm sending 'em all out #you'll all do great this week i can feel it #p.s. the ao3 chapters are already edited properly so i'll fix the tumblr ones asap

18 notes · View notes

iwantthedean · 7 years ago

Text

Blank Space

Part Three

Summary: During Vegas Week, Sam accepts a job from the friend-of-a-friend whose sister needs protecting. Over the course of the time together, they discover that dark forces are at work behind the threats being made to her, but also that first impressions aren’t always what they seem to be … Pairing: Sam Winchester x Reader Word Count: 1630 Warnings: Language, sassiness … I think that’s it?

Blank Space Masterlist

Your date eyed Sam carefully, even after you explained the offending man’s presence away as a bodyguard the dance company had hired to watch out for you — of course making it sound as though no such guarding was necessary.

“Legal ridiculousness,” you purred, rubbing your date’s arm. “Don’t mind him. Tell me, how’s your latest project going?”

The Hollywood director who was taking you out tonight jumped at the opportunity to answer a question about his latest project — and the project before that, and another one after. He talked about the women he had dated before and the people he had worked with and was in talks to work with in the future. He talked about his properties, both in Hollywood and elsewhere — he talked, and talked, and talked.

In between long, drawn out sentences, the director caught the eye of others in the prestigious restaurant, winked at the paparazzi, and not-so-casually posed for photos for the press hanging around outside. You made a mental note to mention it to your agent, in case any sort of media excitement started over the date, and ended the evening as soon as drinks were done at the club the two of you had continued on to after dinner.

Sam drove you home in silence. You insisted on sitting in the backseat of the Impala, and his stolen glances in the rearview mirror didn’t escape your notice.

“Whether I like it or not, we’re going to be spending a lot of time together in the near future, apparently,” you bit out, “so you can save yourself the longing looks back here to make sure I haven’t disappeared. I’m not going to jump out of the car and roll down Las Vegas Boulevard.”

Sam chuckled. “Just making sure you’re all right, that’s all. Your date wasn’t the most gentlemanly guy. Did you know that he only went out with you for the publicity?”

You shot daggers at the man driving. “Who says it was for publicity?”

“C’mon, Y/N. I have no idea how anything in your industry works and I could tell he was just there for good show.”

“You don’t know anything.”

Sam chuckled again. “Yes, I just said that.”

Well, now you felt like an even more of an idiot; like a petulant child failing at making a good come-back to one of the popular kids in school. Not an unfamiliar feeling. Knowing you had been unfair to Sam thus far, and feeling your sweet tooth kick in, you leaned forward on the seat bench in front of you.

“What would it take to convince you to stop for ice cream?” you asked, sprinkling your voice with all the sweetness you usually reserved for interviews.

Slowing to a stop at a red light, Sam turned to look at you. “Ice cream?”

You nodded. “Not the cardboard tub from the grocery store either, Sammy. I want the real thing.”

“Only my brother calls me Sammy,” he returned. “Sit back. I know a place we can go.”

As excited as you could be for any frozen treat, you did as Sam directed and sat back, anxious to see if the place he was taking you was any place you would already know.

It wasn’t a place you were familiar with, just outside of Las Vegas and in a quiet area you wished you got to more often. There was no paparazzi, no valets, and no other reason for anyone to bother with your presence.

Sam motioned for you to step up to the counter first, and you ordered your favorite without looking around much at the options. Sam ordered after you, then paid for both cones.

“You didn’t have to do that,” you said. “But thank you.”

“You’re welcome.” He motioned for you to pick a spot in the place; you found a secluded booth, far from the window and passersby. “Scared to be seen with me in public?”

“I think you already forced me into that earlier this evening,” you said, actually cracking a smile.

Sam shook his head, but let out a small laugh. “I won’t reiterate my reasoning. How’s your ice cream?”

“Delicious. How’d you know about this place?”

“My brother and I spend a week here every year — pretty much the only vacation we get in our line of work.”

You frowned. “Where’s he at?”

“Mmm, probably a blackjack table, if my watch is accurate.”

Suddenly, it hit you — Sam was supposed to be on vacation. Instead, he was here watching out for you, and you were being a pain in the ass.

Clearing your throat, you shrugged. “You don’t have to be with me all the time, you know. I’d hate to ruin any sibling bonding time.”

“Trust me, we get plenty,” Sam replied, “and you’re not getting rid of me that easily.”

You couldn’t help but laugh. The sound broke some of the tension between you and Sam; the rest of your short visit to the ice cream parlor was filled with easy, light conversation. You actually enjoyed yourself, and when Sam escorted you back out to the car, you dropped into the front seat. He raised an eyebrow at you.

“Don’t question me, Sammy,” you smirked.

Sam just shook his head and started the car, checking the rearview mirror before backing out of the parking lot.

The trip to the ice cream parlor seemed to have smoothed things out between them, at least for the time being. Sam almost forgot why he was with her in the first place, until she stopped dead in her tracks and her whole body tensed as they approached her apartment.

“Y/N?”

She swallowed hard and let out a determined breath before picking up the large envelope that was halfway under her apartment door. Her name was scribbled on the front; Sam took her keys from her hand and unlocked the door.

She put the envelope on the kitchen table. “I’m going to change. Gimme a few minutes, then I guess I’ll explain everything.”

Sam followed her towards the hall where the bedrooms were situated, parting ways with her at the doors. He changed into sweats and a t-shirt, then went back to the kitchen. She wasn’t there yet, so Sam opened the fridge to see if she had any alcohol. There were no beers in the fridge, but he found a bottle of wine on the counter. Not his favorite, but it would suffice. He found two wine glasses and filled them each halfway.

“That’s my good stuff,” she said quietly, taking a seat at the small dining table.

Sam wasn’t sure if she was upset that he had broke into her good stuff, but she seemed to be all right with it when she accepted one of the glasses and downed the whole thing in a few gulps. Sam retrieved the bottle from the counter and refilled her glass.

“Want me to open this?” he offered.

She shrugged. “I can.”

With the seal broken on the envelope, Y/N turned it over and dumped the contents onto the table. A computer print out of several x-rays and a note fell onto the table. Sam picked up the note first.

“Give up the show or this will be you. Simple enough,” Sam snorted.

Y/N was staring at the x-ray, color drained from her face. Terror glazed over her eyes, but she said nothing as she handed it over to Sam.

It didn’t take a medical degree for Sam to understand the point here. The x -ay was of a full leg, with multiple fractures in every bone from the femur all the way down to the toes. The point made, Sam laid the note and the x-ray print out back on the table. Y/N filled her wine glass again.

“Is this the kind of stuff you’ve been getting?”

She shrugged as she swallowed down a long pull from the wine glass. “I get a lot of hate mail, actually. I’m not the most reputable person in the world, and a lot of conservative groups will send hate to Vegas show dancers. It happens.”

Sam rolled his eyes. “Okay, but how many of those letters come directly to your front door?”

Licking her lips before finishing off the wine, she shrugged. “That just started recently — along with other weird things.” Her shoulders slumped as she silently gave in to telling Sam everything. “I don’t sleep at night because I hear dogs barking and growling — and not like it’s coming from a neighboring apartment, it’s like the dogs are in my bedroom. I feel like someone’s following me all the time. One time … one time, I woke up and a man with red eyes was standing over my bed. I screamed, he disappeared.”

“How long has this been going on?”

“Couple of months.”

Sam nodded. “All right. Still have the other letters?”

“Yes.”

“I need them. All of them. And you’re going to need to tell me every little detail.”

With a flustered sigh, she got up from the table to retrieve the letters. When she came back, Sam had his father’s journal and his laptop in front of him. She offered to provide him the WiFi password, but Sam smiled sheepishly.

“I already got it — sorry, habit.”

She managed a small smile before the expression fell again. “I don’t really want to re-live all of this, you know.”

Sam put a hand on her arm and met eyes with her. “I’m not going to let anything happen to you, Y/N. I promise.”

With a nod and another sigh, she pulled another bottle of wine from the counter before dropping back into her chair and starting back at the beginning.

#supernatural #fanfiction #blank space #part three #sam #sam winchester #reader #reader insert #sam x reader #sam Winchester x reader #spnfanficpond #jellyfish #iwantthedeanupdates #iwantthedean's tag team #all my lovelies

74 notes · View notes

minimotives · 7 years ago

Text

First and foremost:

I am absolutely sorry for the last blog post that you may or may not have seen if you subscribe to this blog (It’s gone now). I was not hacked but apparently James was. Also, apparently he was set as a contributor to this blog. So someone hacked into his account and published some sub-par English (like I have any room to complain!) post about something or another… I am sorry to be a cruddy email in your inbox though and thank you so much for those of you who let me know so I could handle it! It has been fixed and I’ll do my very best to not let it happen again!

Quick Recap!

So, 13 months, to the day, is how long we were on the road. And 39,998 miles (I’d like to just round that up bat I can’t do it). In that time we were able to hit 45 national parks (all of them in the lower 48 excluding 4 island parks accessible only by boat or plane). We can all, including Denver, say we’ve been to 48 of the 50 states.

I did technically take a computer but it was not easy to hook it up to the internet (I attached via phone). Then, every time I did my computer wanted to update. So any time I wanted to write a blog post I had to basically wait 2-4 hours and hope I remembered enough to scribble it down. As you can see, I think I wrote about 6 blog posts the whole time we were out and that was from my phone (its not easy to blog via touch pad!). I’m sorry for that but it was a lot more fun exploring the country!! Hopefully, if you wanted you were able to find us on Instagram where I still updated.

We left in the middle of some hot and heavy tiny house discussions and it’s pretty much been tabled the whole time we were away. We are very happy to be back thought to finish working through the nuances and hopefully make it easier to live tiny in Idaho at least!

Before That Happens Though:

We have to find a home base. The thought of mooching off any family while we figure it out is not appealing. We have great tenants in our ‘real’ house and have no ambition to kick them out just so we could live there a little while. We can’t occupy the tiny house. Short term (or long term) rentals are astronomical in Boise right now. (Click here for a special link to Yahoo about our hometown)

This left us with one logical answer. When James moved in to the tiny he never fully downsized. He just kind of put his things in boxes and then built a basic, detached garage for his ‘real house’, then stored all of his stuff in there. So we’re converting that garage into some temporary housing for our family of four!

Our Anniversary

We didn’t just end our trip 13 months to the day after take off, we also ended it one our anniversary. Every year we take a family photo in front of our home as a snapshot of the year. I am glad to get another picture with ‘Lil Beastie! (our camper). Here are our anniversary photos to date, I wonder what next year’s will look like! ha!

We lead a pretty cool life, I am so glad I, on a whim, started taking these pictures!

Year six, can you believe we were on the same vacation as the picture taken one year earlier! 🙂

Year Five, new home on wheels for a while

Year four, no new family members!, yea!

Year three, Miles is just about done cooking!

Year two, surprise baby Hazel!

Year one, the day Denver came to live with us!

First date – who even gets this picture??

Now The Downsizing Begins Again!

James has been hardcore into the real downsizing efforts. A year on the road has been pretty eye opening for both of us on what we really need (spoiler: less than what we currently own!). Honestly, I have cleared the tiny house of several truck loads of stuff! Our kids have grown up in a year and they really don’t need all the baby stuff we had. James has gone through box upon box. We’ve taken two truck loads to the dump, were planning a yard sale for anything else. Whatever doesn’t sell will be donated to start a new life elsewhere. Hazel and Miles have been going through all their stuff, they are excited to earn money from their toys AND plan on hosting a lemonade stand for cool refreshments. I absolutely cannot believe the amount of STUFF we have accumulated in our tiny little places!

Building Anew!

After this weekend we really get going! We will be adding a kitchen, a custom playhouse/fort for the kids, and doing all those little projects that take a garage to a home for a family of four and their dog! I will try to do updates because its totally relevant to ‘tiny homes’ and living in small spaces. Sometimes Instagram is just easier for me because it’s quicker (and can be done from my phone). I will definitely update on the legalities once that conversation gets going too. I am happy to be back and ready to rock this world again! In the mean time here are some of my favorite pictures of our adventures!

Also, this is not the end of our travels, we absolutely plan to make it to those four parks we skipped and are already planning our trip to Alaska (my last state) for next summer followed by celebrating James’s 40th birthday next fall in Hawaii! We should be able to see all these amazing National Parks before too long!

Oh, P.S.

Our cat is mad we are back. Did you know we had a cat? It’s probably because I am a dog person ;-).

He misses his bachelors pad and all the fancy parties he used to throw! While we were away we had an RFID cat door programmed to his microchip so that he could enter and exit the house at will (but nothing else could). We set up a camera pointed at his food so we could make sure he was alive and eating. Any time the food got low we would order another bag from Amazon and have James’s sister or mom run over and fill his dish. Pretty sure he enjoyed that set up a whole lot more than he enjoys our company!

The Pictures

Tetons NP

Washingtons Peninsula

Cascade NP

Mt. Rainier NP

The Oregon Coast

Crater Lake NP

Redwoods NP

Patricks Point, CA

Everglades NP

Bug watching, She is the best at finding lizards, frogs and catipilars

Bryce Canyon NP

Death Valley NP

Suguaro NP

Florida dog beach

Grand Canyon NP

Yosemite NP

California Free Camping

Zion NP

Zion Hike

Utah Farm

Mesa Verde NP

Black Canyon of the Gunnison NP

The dop of the highest sand dune in North America, Great Sand dune NP

Petrified Forest/Painted Dessert NP

Painted Desert NP

Spring in Death Valley NP

Death Valley

Death Valley Dunes

Joshua Tree NP

Saguaro NP

White Sands NM

Big Bend NP

One of MANY awesome aquariums (this one is in Mississippi)

Mardi Gras Parade in New Orleans!

Cocoa Beach with Poppy

Furthest South Point in the US

Disney’s Animal Kingdom

Disneys Magic Kingdom

Florida

North Carolina

Playgrounds across America!

Mammoth Cave NP

Smokey Mountain NP

Random Virginia picture (such a pretty state!!)

Shanendoah NP

Shanandoah NP

West Virginia

Washington DC

Wild ponies!!

Birthday Boy in Maine

Furthest east point in the US

Denver could not contain himself around that much water!

thousand Island area in New York

Hot springs

Sibling bonding

Denver got a lot of this!

He learned to fake his first smile and I caught it on camera!

Sand dunes in Michigan

Teddy Roosevelt NP

National Grasslands

Idaho is kinda pretty too 🙂

Learning new tricks

Glacier NP

Teton NP

Mt. Rushmore

Badlands NP

Rocky Mountain NP

Happy Campers!

Colorado bonding

Great Salt Lake

Spiral Jetty, UT

Great Salt Lake

AND… We’re Back! First and foremost: I am absolutely sorry for the last blog post that you may or may not have seen if you subscribe to this blog (It's gone now).

1 note · View note

multifandom-damnation · 7 years ago

Text

Roy’s Birthday Bonanza

“Kori, Princess, for the love of all things holy can you please help me with this?”

“I don’t know what you want me to do Jason. You’ve stopped me every other time.”

Scanning the kitchen, Jason’s eyes landed on the suds in the kitchen sink and the close-to-toppling pile of plates and washables. “Can you do the dishes?”

Floating over to the sink, Kori tied up her hair and rolled up her sleeves. She dumped her hands in the hot water and started washing. Jason sighed through his nose and turned to his laptop where a skype call was ongoing. “Now what Alfie?”

Alfred’s kindly smile put Jason at ease as he placed the cake precariously balanced on his arm into the oven, hot air blasting Jason in the face and making him blink. He closed the oven door and whipped his hands on the tea-towel hanging from his shoulder. “I think now you should make the frosting, Master Jason.”

“Frosting?” Jason asked, “We’re covering this in frosting?”

“Of course. I mean no disrespect, but I’m not sure how well the cake is going to look once it bakes. A good frosting-cake ratio is always desirable.”

“What flavoured icing?” Jason probed, suspiciously giving the laptop the side eye.

Alfred’s ageing face turned fuzzy as he chuckled and looked down to page through one of the many recipe books he had opened to random pages on the Wayne kitchen counter. “Would chocolate suffice?”

“Alfie, you don’t even need to ask that.” It was true. Alfred also knew the answer was yes. It was always yes. “Very well Jason. To melt the chocolate, shall we do a Ban Marie? Or would the microwave be easier?”

Jason froze, turning his head ever so slightly to glare at their microwave, with its missing parts and wires that Roy had disassembled to use in his newest project and had not yet replaced. “How long will the Band Mary take?”

“A Ban Marie, Master Jason. And close to 10 minutes, depending on how much chocolate you wish to melt.”

Kori’s head snapped up and she brushed a stray strand of hair behind her ear, leaving soap suds on her forehead. “When do you think Roy is going to be home? It can’t be long now.”

Jason closed his eyes and ground out through grit teeth, “How do you do a Ban Marie?”

“A pot of hot water and a porcelain bowl filled with chocolate. Stir it and add more as required.”

Jason sighed and rubbed his hair, ruffling it and making it stick out in odd places. “Fine. We’ll do that.” Walking to the pantry, Jason pulled out two blocks of chocolate and grabbed the pre-whipped cream and caster sugar on his way back to the stove. He pulled a chopping board from a cupboard and after being unable to locate a clean knife, he pulled one from his hip holster and started cutting the chocolate into small pieces.

Alfred cleared his throat and Jason looked at him from the corner of his eye to see him dragging a hand down his tired face. “I hope that knife has been cleaned and disinfected since you last used it, Jason.”

Snorting, Jason finished with the chocolate and handed the knife to Kori so she could clean it. “It’s a new knife, Alfie. I bought it yesterday. I’m sorry to say that the only thing it’s done so far since I’ve gotten it is chop up chocolate chunks. We’re safe”

The sink gurgled as Kori drained the water from it and left the dishes on the rack to dry. She suddenly froze and whipped her head round to stare at Jason, eyes wide. “Oh no…” She gasped.

“Princess?” Jason asked, abandoning his task and stalking over to Kori to grab hold of her arm. “What is it? What’s wrong?”

“Did you wrap the presents?” She whispered.

Jason’s heart stopped. “I thought you did?”

Kori shook her head, bug-eyed and sprinted to the bedroom to pull the gift’s out from under the bed. She dragged them out to the living room adjacent to the kitchen and sat down to wrap them. Jason was secretly thankful that she had grabbed the wrapping paper with little heart-shot-arrows and not the ones with naked women on it. Not like Roy would have minded anyway.

But they still had standards.

Jason turned to his task and poured the chocolate into a porcelain bowl, placing it over the pot of water and stirring it as needed. “What do we need to do after this Alfred?”

“You may decorate it however you wish once you put on the icing. Have you got any idea’s in mind?”

Hell no, Jason thought. “Of course” he lied, gently adding in the whipped cream and butter. “I always do, don’t I?”

“Of course, Master Jason. Would you be needed my assistance any longer?”

Jason looked around at the bombshell of a kitchen and thought about what he would give for Alfred’s help. “I think I’ve got it. Thanks’ Alfie. If There’s any left, I’ll send you some.”

“Knowing Mr Harper, I doubt there will be.”

“Heh, see you, Alfred. Love you.”

“I love you too Jason. Come by for dinner soon. I’ll tell the family you called.”

The laptop beeped to signal the end of the call, and Jason turned the heat up on the stove. “How we looking Kori?” He called to the Tameranian on the floor, who was currently trying to wrap a pile of trucker hats.

“Good, but then we’re always looking good.” Kori joked “If you’re talking about the gifts, it’s pretty slow going. But I should be done by the time the cake is done.”

“Good,” Jason sighed, spooning in the last of the icing sugar as the chocolate became fully liquefied. “That’s good.”

He brought the plate over to the sink and stirred it so it didn’t harden, and poured the cooling chocolate into the bowl of whipped cream and folded it through. The cream white gave to a satisfying light brown and Jason relaxed as the oven dinged to say the cake was ready. Maybe the rest of the night will run smoothly?

Jason’s phone rang and he looked at the name before he opened it. “Roytoy,” and a photo of Roy shooting targets greeted him. “Oh Jaybird…” Roy greeted sing-song as soon as Jason had answered the phone, not even giving him the chance to say ‘hello’. “I’m coming home now. Is there anything you need?”

“How far away do you think you’ll be?” Jason asked.

“Maybe 30 minutes. Why?”

Jason cast a look at Kori who was still struggling to wrap the presents and around the safe house. The kitchen was a mess and the house looked… boring. This won’t do. “Make it 60,” Jason said hurriedly.

“60… minutes? An hour? Jay, what am I supposed to do?”

“I don’t know” Jason hissed, pulling the cake out of the oven and unclipping the spring-form pan, placing Roy on loudspeaker and laying the phone on the counter. “Figure it out. Go see Wally and Artemis. Go take Lian out. I don’t know. You just can’t come back yet. Got it?”

Roy sighed. “Got it.” The phone beeped and the call went dead.

Leaving the cake to cool on a cooling rack, Jason bolted to the storeroom and pulled out streamers and paper lanterns and glitter, even though Jason knew he would regret it later. He hung them up all around the room and decorated the table in festive celebration bullshit. He made a banner that said “Roy’s Birthday Bonanza” and even though he knew it wasn’t really a “bonanza” it felt like it.

At some point he had gone to help Kori wrap the gifts, folding them and covering them in sticky tape then placing them under and around the table. Kori had dashed off to get changed and to clean up the rest of the house. He placed the cards they had all written in a line of envelopes. Kori’s an elegant purple, Jason’s a deep red and Lian’s a bright pink and Jason smirked as he thought of Roy’s face when he opened it up and got covered in a thick film of glitter and sprinkles and confetti.

Jason had run over to ice the cake, smacking on globs of icing and smearing it with a bread knife so it was smooth, running it up and over the cake. He went through the pantry and pulled out sprinkles and cake toppers that looked the ball bearings and poured them all over the cake. He tried to make a pattern, but when Roy texted him to say he was on his way home, Jason lost all the patience he thought he had and gave up with that.

He placed the cake in the centre of the table and stuck some candles in, leaving one of the many lighters they had around the house next to it and dashed to get changed.

When they heard keys jingling in the lock and complaints of the heat from the front door, Kori rushed to turn off all the lights and Jason lit the candles. He quickly slipped the lighter into his pocket as he realised it had an image of a dead deer on it for some reason, and if Lian was there, she didn’t need to see that.

When Roy burst through the front door with Lian in his arms, Kori and Jason screamed “Happy Birthday!” loud enough for him to slip on a pile of glitter at the door and land on his ass, covering them both in a sprinkling of glitter.

Roy’s smile didn’t fade at all that night.

Hi! So, I found out it was Roy’s birthday on the 1st, and because it’s still technically the 1st in America, I didn’t miss it, right? Right? I hope this is ok, I wrote it in 3 hours and it’s really late. Happy Birthday, Roytoy, I hope your babes gave you a good night. Both in and out of bed. Bye!

#dc #batfam #Red Hood And The Outlaws #jason todd #roy harper #koriand'r #alfred pennyworth #lian harper #joyfire #My writing #happy birthday roy

97 notes · View notes

catbrainswriting · 8 years ago

Text

[mikomisa] cut your losses

ship/fandom: suoh mikoto/yata misaki (k project)

chapter: 1/?

word count: 1.7k

summary: mikoto suoh has a lot of enemies. usually, after they try to face him, they run home with their tail between their legs - but every so often, some will come crawling back with the urge for revenge. and what better target than the one the king holds dearest? (or, alternatively, misaki is kidnapped by a rival gang formerly defeated by mikoto, and the king is given an ultimatum.)

notes: not beta read so sorry for any stupid mistakes. i started this aaaages ago and never got around to finishing it until @shy-canadian-snowflake popped up and magically motivated me like an angel - so a huge big thank you to them!! this is also the first post on this shiny new writing blog, and there’s no initiation quite like one of my oldest rare-pairs. enjoy!! (and pls let me know if you did so i’ll know to continue!)

Mikoto is wandering alone down one of the less crowded streets of Shizume, heading back towards HOMRA with several new packets of cigarettes held in a bag in his right hand, when his phone vibrating in his back pocket interrupts his lazy train of thought.

It is mid-January, early evening, and the snow on the streets has yet to melt so the slicing cold air hangs with it. Mikoto had left the bar early on a mission to track down a smaller gang stirring up trouble on the other side of the city, but his body temperature (heightened considerably by his aura) continues to attempt to oppose the winter. Cringing as the hand that had previously been seeking refuge in his jacket pocket is exposed to the air, he draws his phone clumsily from his jeans. The blue light of the phone screen is harsh in the dusk and it takes several long moments for his eyes to adjust so he can check the caller ID. Izumo. Mikoto stares at the screen for a moment, before its incessant vibrating reminds him that Kusanagi is actually waiting for him to answer.

He swipes to answer the call and holds the phone to his ear, trying not to think about the fact that the last time Izumo called him, Totsuka was dead.

“Hey, Mikoto?”

Kusanagi’s voice over the phone is as even as ever, casual lilt carrying the words in a way that in any other situation would be relaxing. But Mikoto has known the man for years, since they were teenagers, and they've been through too much together for him to not immediately notice an underlying sense of anxiety. His mind, as ever, goes to the worst scenario first.

“What is it?”

Kusanagi barks out a laugh after hearing his tone, but it sounds inappropriate and somewhat forced. “No one’s dying, I promise.”

Mikoto quirks an eyebrow. The joke is in poor taste, though he doubts the man intended it as such. “Then why’d you call?”

“I was gonna ask if you knew where Yata was.”

“Yata?”

“He hasn’t come in today. I wouldn’t be worried - well, I’m not, really - but he’s not answering his phone. Kamamoto offered to check his apartment, but I figured I should call you first. Make sure I’m not interrupting some steamy date.”

Mikoto considers informing Kusanagi that the closest he and Yata have gotten to a date has been a make-out session in HOMRA’s rec room while some action movie played in the background (that’s basically a cinema date, right?), but he bites his tongue.

“I haven’t heard from him.”

That statement brings Izumo��s laughter to a nervous standstill. There is a long beat of silence.

“Since when?”

“Last night at the bar. I last saw him the same time you did, unless you’ve talked to him since.”

Mikoto hears a slight ruffle, and assumes that Izumo is shaking his head. “No...no. He said goodnight and then he left on his own. It was late.”

Mikoto’s slow pace down the street draws to a stop.

“What are you implying?”

Izumo pauses, the only sound through the phone his deep breathing.

“I can’t stop thinking about Totsuka.”

Mikoto feels something like anger rising in his throat, but he knows it’s closer to anxiety. “What are you implying?”

Izumo sighs deeply. “I’m not--I’m not saying anything. But, fuck, Yata’s just a kid. And, yeah, he can look after himself and I get that but I can’t help worrying. I feel like, with Totsuka, I didn’t worry enough. And look where that got us.”

Mikoto lets the silence hang, watches his breath dance in the cold January air like the smoke of a cigarette. He finds himself craving one suddenly, but he doesn’t have a free hand to draw his open pack out of his jacket pocket.

“I’ll go check his apartment.”

His tone makes it sound like an offer, like something he’s willing to do to calm Izumo’s nerves, but they both know that there is now the beginning of panic coursing through Mikoto’s own veins. Misaki has always had such an effect on him, and more often than not he finds himself cursing the teenager’s innate ability to cause him such grief.

Izumo makes a noise of affirmation, another rustle to indicate a nod. “Call me as soon as you find him,” he says, with an air of confidence that disappears like smoke in the wind the moment he continues, “And call me if you don’t.”

Mikoto hangs up the phone and breathes deeply, deciding after a moment’s hesitation that Yata is more important than his body’s craving for nicotine. He sets off again at a significantly brisker pace, turning off a few streets away from the bar and heading instead to Yata’s apartment, tucked far into the worse side of the city. He hasn't been there many times, since Yata basically lives at the bar, but he’s also aware that Yata’s financial situation is a bit of a sore spot. God knows how many part-time jobs the kid’s working to try and keep up with the rent, for no real reason other than a desperation to provide for himself, rather than rely on other people. Yata had been taught the rather harsh (and false) lesson in his life that relying on others always got you hurt, and Mikoto is always trying to encourage him to loosen his grip on that belief, but his efforts are largely in vain. Yata’s mistrust of people on any level deeper than the surface was ingrained in him, through pain and loss and regret, and no amount of encouraging was going to get him to let go of it. Especially not with the still-raw grief of Totsuka’s death in his heart.

It seems to get colder the further away from the shopping district Mikoto gets, as the buildings thin out and the streets grow broader - intended for vehicles, rather than slow-paced shoppers - but with a sense of purpose burning in his mind, he doesn't notice it as much as he had before Izumo’s call. He walks through alleyways and under footbridges, keeps his distance from the guys lingering under them with their hands shoved deep in their pockets, no doubt gripping switchblades. He doesn't have the time to get into a fight, especially not one that he can't end with an effortless wave of his aura. He can feel it itching under his skin, burning in a way that it hasn't since the evening of December 7th, and he knows it well enough now to know that it means ‘danger’. Anxiously, he chalks it up to his surroundings, to the guys holding nail-embedded baseball bats eyeing him from the alcoves of shuttered store fronts, but deep down he knows better. His aura is unsettled with the need to protect, to shield...and the knowledge that it is helpless. Something is happening. Someone is going to be hurt. And, as he pauses at the bottom of the metal stairs leading to Yata’s second-storey apartment, he can only selfishly hope that it is anyone else.

He begins to scale the stairs slowly, steadily, but his anxiety gets the better of him and soon he is taking them three at a time, leaping over the bannister as it angles around to save him a few precious seconds, and then he is stood at Misaki’s front door and time seems to freeze around him, like he's been plunged sixty feet into freezing water. The lock is broken, and there is a dull trail of blood dragging from underneath it.

No.

No. No. No.

Mikoto is bursting through the door in a moment, but there is nothing he can do. He is hours too late already.

Misaki’s apartment is only one room - two if you count the semi-divided kitchenette, three if you count the bathroom - and it is in chaos. Shelves formerly housing photo frames and books and DVDs are overturned, the small old-fashioned television smashed from some apparent impact with wires dangling it precariously from its previous perch atop a chest of drawers. The drawers are all opened, too, sorted through and their contents dumped on the ground, but Mikoto doesn't notice any of it, not really. Because the old mattress on the floor, including its single unwashed white sheet, is covered in blood, and there is a message spray-painted in purple on the wall above it.

“CUT YOUR LOSSES, KING”

What the fuck? Mikoto is lost too suddenly to immediately feel the rage that he knows is coming, and instead stares dazedly into the ransacked apartment. Is this revenge? Revenge. For something that he has done. Misaki is paying the price for something that Mikoto has done. The thought makes him feel sick to his stomach, but before he can do anything he notices the note on the table. It looks so out-of-place amidst the chaos that Mikoto is shocked he didn't notice it before, but he approaches the table cautiously nonetheless. He snatches up the paper and begins to read.

“Red King. Or, rather, Suoh Mikoto. Did you really think you would get away with fucking with us?

You tore us down. Thought you’d defeated us once and for all. Taught us a lesson good and proper, yeah?

We don't play no fucking games like that.

We remember. Bide our time. Act with more strategy that you HOMRA fuckers do.

Bet you feel pretty fucking stupid right now. Don't worry; the grief’ll kick in soon.

And then you can really feel like shit.

But that's not really what we’re after. We’re after suffering in the broader sense. More shame-filled. More regret.

We did consider that little princess of yours, but even we have standards. Besides, the other type of love is always more fun.

Depending on how long it takes your stupid ass to realise what's happened, your boy here probably won't be dead. Maybe. Depends how loud the fucker is.

All we’re asking, Mr. Suoh, is for you to cut your losses.

Let us win and we’ll spare the rest of your boys. And the girl.

But if you come chasing after us, you’ll find pretty boy here with his throat slit and a hundred men off to do the same to the rest.

Now, I want you to think long and hard.

What are you willing to lose?”

#k project #mikomisa #mikoyata #mikoto suoh #misaki yata

39 notes · View notes