#anyway im spending the night here because work has been SO quiet with the summer hols picking up | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

thorsstorms · 6 years ago

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Abroad Pt. 8

Summary: Being the Hemsworth Kids’ Nanny, you were vowed to keep it strictly professional for their sake, but do the stolen glances go unnoticed between you both?

Word count: 6.4k

Warnings: Smut! (18+!!) Oral, F reciving.

A/N: Posting this on April 24th!! I see endgame tomorrow evening, are you ready for it??

Masterlist

Coming to your senses, you knew it was early. The window showed a darkness what hadn’t been swallowed by the sun yet. That’s what you get for sleeping so much yesterday. Peeking open your eyes, curling into the warmth that your lover gave off was enough to put you in a good mood for the day. You pulled the blankets over your shoulders and softly moved your arm over his back, though not wanting to wake him up, just wanting to touch him.

Laying there was peaceful and it gave you time to think. How long had it been since you’ve moved in? Five months? Six? What were you doing before this? Seemingly all the sudden, you are in California in a house with new additions to your life that you never thought possible in this lifetime. Since when are you the sentimental one?

It’s because you love him, you loved him and his kids and his whole family and you weren’t getting out anytime soon. Today you get to go to Disney for the first time. You peaked up at the clock, T-minus 6 hours and you will be at the happiest place on Earth.

You have probably 2 hours before the kids wake up as as much as you missed them, you still wanted to milk these 2 hours the best you can. You quietly and slowly slide out of bed, blushing to yourself realizing you are still naked. Maybe you shouldn’t leave him alone.

The thought left your mind when you felt him roll over. You sat on the edge of the bed and watched his arm reach out and land on the sheets lazily. He laid still for a second before his eyes popped open and he sat up on his elbows quickly, finally finding you staring at him almost laughing at his reaction. Then finding it not so funny, mean maybe. You laid back down with him and he lets out a sleepy ‘I love you’, successfully making your heart stop in place.

“Tell me you love me (y/n),” he said quickly with tickling fingers running up your sides.

“I love you, I love you!” You squealed him, pushing away his arms, “but not when you do that!” He rolled on his back pulling you with him. You just stared down at him while he closed his eyes, a small smile shying way on his face.

“I can’t sleep anymore, I’m wide awake,” you whispered to him.

“Ok, fine.” He said, you rolled off him standing out of bed while he threw the covers off.

“Chris you can still sleep, you don’t have to get up,” you told him, feeling bad for waking him.

“No I should get up anyway,” he grumbled rubbing his eyes, staring around the room. You blushed looking away from him as he reached for his boxers, you grabbing your own clothing.

“I wanna go for a walk.” You told him grabbing a water from the fridge. It’s just barely 6:30 AM. You watched as he grabbed a banana from the counter and looked around for his phone. You justified him a little more, telling him that the kids won’t wake up for a couple more hours and you weren’t the only two adults here. He just shrugged his shoulder and slipped on Liam’s shoes, now the second time your caught him doing that.

You both walked out the front door and saw the sun peeking up behind some trees to the east. Thinking to yourself that this time of day is the most peaceful. You walked around the block, not many cars out at this hour.

“I’m really excited to go to Disney today, I’ve never been,” you admitted after a moment of walking. It was an excitement that the more you thought about it the more you could hold it in.

“Oh-ho, it’s a blast, India will take you all over the place!”

You both decided that while they are doing their event, you and the kids wouldn’t be there till after it was over, spending that time exploring the park instead. You walked around the block while he asked about what you did back home and how you spent your time. You told him how much you didn’t realize you missed it. Watching your brother on the baseball field, fun summer nights with your seemingly 100 cousins.

This was time that you need alone with him. Just talking about nothing in particular. It was when you got to notice the cute wrinkles around his eyes when he smiles big, his floppy hair when it is not fixed, and how silly he is. A work of art, really. You both rounded the block and slowly made your way back to the house, the sun finally sitting low in the horizon.

“What are the other two doing today?” You asked as you walked up the driveway.

“I’m not sure, there isn’t much they can do about the house yet.” Inside was still dead silent. You grinned to yourself, a quiet house is rare. You walked to the bathroom to pull your hair into a braid and putting on clothes for the day. You emptied out your backpack and started to gather things that you might need for the day with them at the park.

“Chris!” You whispered yelled across the living room. “I need to go the store, do you need anything?” He replied with a no, and as soon as you grabbed the keys from the counter you heard footsteps coming down the stairs. The two of you stood staring at the staircase from your spots in the house waiting to see who comes out and.. It was just Miley. Thank god, if the kids woke up at this hour you would be S.O.L. later.

“Wait, I wanna go.” She mumbled as she walked towards you and slipped on her sneakers she left at the front door. Her hair was already in a bun and she was dressed like she had already been awake. You both waved goodbye and walked out.

“How long have you been awake?” You pulled the door shut behind you and started the car, realizing you had no idea where to go.

“Like an hour.” You started to pull open a map on your phone to a Target. The morning was not busy and you held a small conversation about what she was going to do, move to the house in Tennessee was the best option for them both right now. You listened quietly while you followed the directions, listening to some music coming through the car.

“Do you wanna come with us today?” Breaking the comfortable silence that fell over you both, it was too early for conversation, coffee first. One of those moments that you were thankful for starbucks being inside the store.

“Where to?”

“Disney! Its my first time and Im taking the kids, Chris has to be there for an event.” you smiled getting excited all over again. You were sure you could handle it yourself, but having another adult would be nice. She watched you get giddy and a smile take over your face, she knew she couldn’t ruin your first experience there.

“I would love to, but I actually think I’ll stay back,” you tried to skip the pout that was coming but it made a small appearance. You recovered quickly, letting it go and got out of the car with her.

You both stood in line at the Starbucks, only one person in front of you. You quickly order a iced coffee, and let her order hers and you paid for both after some convincing that it was your treat. You sat at a small table waiting for your name and realized you left your phone in the car, what else were you supposed to do with your hands?

Your name was called a few seconds later, and a minutes later they called a ‘Destiny’ and Miley got up and grabbed the drink. You gave her an incredulous look, about to laugh at her for choosing a different name and then she slowly saw the look of realization fall over your face. She was wearing a sweatshirt that you knew for a fact was Chris’s and she had sunglasses still covering her eyes. She needs clothing but she doesn’t want to be recognized.

“Oh,” you said under your breath, feeling dumb. “Do you always use that name?” She nodded with a solemn look on her face while you both headed towards the clothing section. While deep in the racks she eventually pulled the glasses to the top of her head. After a few outfits and clothing for Liam you both quickly went around for your items and some groceries for the house. They were only staying for a few more days, but you were going to be there for a while longer, kids gotta eat something.

You really only needed some necessities like personal hygiene things, indulged in a few makeup items, and a new silk navy tank that you decided would look good with a Disney themed outfit. Might as well enjoy it while you are there, right?

Miley silently thanked the heavens that you both got in and out of there, no problem, when you were sat back in the car that was loaded with bags.

“I think we got more than what we came for,” you joked, mostly to yourself but she definitely agreed. On the way back you kept pondering over how she kept such a watchful eye on her surroundings. Quick looks to her left or right, it didn’t go unnoticed by you, you had seen Chris do the same thing only a few times.

“So, is that why you wont come with us today?” You wondered out loud. Curiosity doesn’t stop you, but you already knew the answer.

“I would love to, but I just dont think its a good idea. But don’t worry about me, Disney is so much fun, you’ll have fun without me.” Feelings of regret washed over you, you shouldn’t have asked, should have known better. Of course she wasn’t going to go, especially not with the kids, she already got too much going on. Nodding your head, you turned on the music and let it take over the car, both of you trying to suppress your laugh as ‘Sucker’ was in the middle of playing on the local station. Yea, you can check off finding another best friend off your to do list.

Back at the house, the TV was playing Trolls with two out of three kids sitting, watching intently with a bowl of fruit in between them. After sorting through all the things you bought and putting them away you parked yourself at the dining table, watching both brothers cook up some breakfast.

“I’m so hungry I could die.” You propped your elbows up on the table, the smell of bacon wafting around making your mouth water. “Holy shit that’s a lot of bacon.” You admired the mountain piling up on the plate.

“Yea and $10 bucks Liam eats all of it like a cow,” that earned Chris a double dead leg kick to the back of the knees, but he quickly turned and smacked him with the spatula. Liam yelped a “fuck that’s hot” jumping away.

“Respect your elders,” Chris warned him a turned back to the stove, laughing to himself and winking at you. You watched in amusement as Liam rolled his eyes and took it upon himself to stop what he was doing and pinch Chris under his arms. He turned and threw the spatula at him while Liam tried to run from him across the island of the kitchen.

“Touch me again and I’ll kill you,” Chris warned him, almost like he wasn’t messing around. You thought ‘oh shit’, for both their sakes. All three of you in the room new he was about to come back at him as soon as Chris turned his back again.

And he did. He pulled open the drawer for another utensil. You watched with wide eyes of amusement as Liam slowly picked up the spatula off the ground and prepared himself to throw it and dart out of the kitchen for the stairs. It was almost as if you could see himself counting to three in his head, and then he threw it.

“Run!” You yelled at Liam as he crossed you headed for the stairs. You watched as Chris got ahold of the back of his shirt, Liam slipped himself out of it and opted for the back door instead, better luck to not get trapped. The back door flew open and you heard Tristan yell from the living room, “Get him Papa!” You three peaked out the door, Miley skipping down the stairs to join you.

“Oh my god!” You exhausted. You watched Chris take Liam to the ground and put him in a headlock. You gasped and threw a hand to your mouth trying to cover your laugh, not working very well.

“You gonna stop being a shithead?” You heard Chris ask him. Was this unusually hot? Yes.

“Don’t break him, I need him!” You heard Miley toss back as she walked away from the door frame in the kitchen where the bacon was probably burning. So is this the shit that Jennifer Lawrence used to talk about in her interviews? That was a thought you definitely kept to yourself.

“So these are your fast pass thingys, they will let you go to the shorter lines for the rides.” He started handing you four, “Gen got you this map of the park so don’t get lost, please. India will try to get you to stay in line to meet Elsa and Anna, don’t do it for the love of God, I have like three pictures of them and the line is forever long. The boys like messing with Gaston if you find him, and they are all three scared of the Lilo and Stitch ride, so you might want to stay away from that.” He looked good, like way good. Like, thinking unholy thoughts in the happiest place on Earth, good.

“I think I got it.” You were in a backroom in a building. Someone was ready to lead you out into the park. The both of you quickly went over rules with the kids. Always be holding someone’ hand, whether it was a sibling or yours, no running to far ahead, and don’t take your pass off your neck, things like that though you knew you would be repeating yourself for the next few hours.

“Okay,” you took a deep breath, turning to him. “You good? You look really really good.” you told him messing with his scarf.

“I’m always good.”

“Right…Well, I’ll see you in a few hours?” You looked over your shoulder at the kids then back to him.

“Uh, are you good?” The excitement was probably rolling off you in waves, taking a breath trying to calm yourself.

“I’m about to go find some Disney princesses of course I’m good.”

“Okay, I love you.”

“I love you too.” You kissed him goodbye, pulling him down by the silly scarf he had with his outfit. He watched a pink glow take over your cheeks. You knew there wasn’t anyone around that probably cared, but he was kissing you in the most public place he ever had. It was easy to forget, that one was on you.

“Oh my god,” you said quickly, pulling in, using Chris as a shield. “Is that, Robert Downey Jr.?” You shyly looked up at Chris, and then peaked again over his shoulder. “Oh my god it is.”

Chris turned slowly and you watched in horror as he winked at you and yelled, “Robert!” You turned your head the other way and looked at the kids. Sasha has parked himself on the floor while India leaned into you from behind, waiting patiently, watching the people around you and Tristan had your phone.

You felt Chris take a few steps and heard him greet him. Your heart was beating so fast, and you wanted to kill Chris, of course he would call him over. “Who is this is just saw you smooching on?” That was your cue. You turned around and Chris pulled your hand to his, intertwining his fingers with yours which were visibly shaking, you knew he could feel it.

“This is (y/n), and she’s my girl,” he said looking down at you. “My girlfriend.” You blushed under his stare. It sounded like such a juvenile thing to say, but were you complaining? Not one bit. “But we are keeping quiet for now,” he corrected himself and told him. Robert nodded in understanding.

“Well, (y/n) it’s nice to finally meet you,” he shook your hand but as always, you thoughts show on your face. Finally? “Oh I’ve heard all about you, even gotten a couple pictures of you.” He said proudly with a smart ass look on his face.

“You what?” you asked him. You looked up at Chris, “You what?”

“Oh yea we all have, he never shuts up about you!”

“Pictures? Christopher!?”

“What he didn’t tell you about the group chat?” Robert interrupted. Chris playfully glared at him before turning his attention back to you. You felt India slip her hand into your other and try to tug you in the other direction but you tugged her back, ignoring her.

“Group chat! Oh my god is Chris Evans in this group message?”

“Duh.”

“Oh my god.” You said quickly, looking at the ground, you face tomato red by now for sure.

“My job is done, it was lovely to meet you Miss (y/n), truly. I hope to see more of you.” He winked swiftly at the both of you, walking away before you could muster up another word to him.

“Oh my god I just met RDJ,” you mumbled to yourself, shaking your head.

“Ok what?” Chris protested, “How come you weren't all clammy, and blushy, and shaky when you met me?”

“Oh-ho wow, don’t try to flip this on me.” India, pulled at your arm again saying she wanted to go. “We are not done talking about this!’ You warned him as you finally allowing India to drag you away, calling the boys to follow you. Chris waved like he just got saved from a horrible confrontation, gladly shoo-ing you all away. This is not over.

By six o’clock all three were complaining of their feet hurting. You knew they wouldn’t last till the firework show but you had a small tiny hope that kept a fire inside, hoping to get to see it. You did get to see a parade though. Pictures with Buzz Lightyear, and Mickey mouse. It was a good day, but you were also burnt out with the kids. There is only so much a person can take of the whining that its too hot, or they are thirsty, or someone has to pee every 30 minutes. When you made you way back to the building you left out of, you spotted Chris sitting in the air conditioning, scrolling his phone with Gen sitting next to him. Jealousy flooded through you but you remembered that he had to stand in front of press and do a few interviews, and it calmed you knowing you were fine with having this end of responsibility.

He looked up at you four crowding in, both boys slumping to the ground carelessly while India crawled on his lap and laid her head on his shoulder. Yea, you would be doing the same. It wasn’t long before you were in the car headed away from an awesome day over all.

He broke the news to you that night that they switched most of the European side that was planned and the studios rearranged press to the other side of the globe. South korea, excited you, another stamp on your passport. He promised he would take you to Paris to make up for it because he knew how excited you were to see it again. That just pulled a head shake from you, the words sounding so foreign for someone to speak, at least from what you had grown up with.

Three weeks were filled with unstability. Weird school work hours with the kids, a lot done on a plane. You took so many pictures with them at cool places and sent them all back to your family making them jealous. Jumping from hotel to hotel was making you extremely home sick. You got to know RDJ’s wife well, spending days with her and their kids so you didn’t have to follow Chris around, you explored separate from him, though he would ways come back to you in the night but be gone fairly early the next day. It was tough but you never took a moment for granted while with the kids in such amazing places.

A couple nights consisted of a kid sneaking out of their room in the hotel and sleeping with you both falling between you. After you tucking the kids in you retreated to bed, Chris sometimes with you, sometimes he came in later if he spent time with one of his friends that evening. You always reminded yourself to not mind, it was his work and you were here for him and kids in the first place. It settled your heart most of the time to embrace the city glowing outside the windows.

Not an evening went by where you were not awake or didn’t wake up when he returned, always waiting to hear about his day. You tried to be sly and tease him a bit and sneak in a question about the movie, but it was always shut down so fast, ending in a buzz kill, but that was on you, everytime.

“I’m not telling you anything, if I know something, not saying that I do, because I don’t.” He fumbled over his words while you trapped him, attacking his neck, pulling back on his hair. Hearing his breathing run ragged while you calmly asked him about his day, if he missed you, while you touched him through his clothes, refusing to go further unless he gave up a little information. It was a dangerous game really. Were you abusing your power over him? Absolutely. Was he going to stop you? Absolutely not.

Finally fed up on an evening in Shanghai, he flipped you around so fast pinning you to the bed, daring you to try and steal touches again. A game you wanted to learn all too much. You innocently apologized while he let up and relaxed to your side. You curled over him, telling him that you know you were torturing him and you were sorry. But you just couldn’t help yourself because you always wanted him. He listened and melted under your touch while you told him it was your fault for making him so hard for you. For making him need you and comply with you while you messed him up in ever way you knew you could.

“All you had to do was answer me,” you whispered against his lips, stilling as his eyes shot open and he grabbed a hold of your hips digging his fingers into the soft skin with a dark blue lace covering you. A hand grabbed a fist full of hair and pulled you back so he could see you clearly. The sting sent a wave straight to your heat, clenching around nothing. That was new. You gasped as he stared at you, “Insatiable.”

“How about you let me give you what you need since ‘you always want me’,” you nodded slightly as he urged your hips up.

“Really?” You stilled and questioned him quickly. He nodded and tugged your hips forward as your hands fell to the headboard from his movement. You smirked, masking your curiosity, and crawled you way up his chest. He tugged you the rest of the way, making you gasp as his fingers were sure to leave bruises.

“Oh god,” you whispered as he bit at your inner thigh. You felt his fingers pull the lace to the side and his arms tighten around your thighs, pulling you to his tongue. You gasped, almost trying to sit up on your knees from the onslaught of pleasure but he held you still. Against your wiggling hips he got frustrated and ripped the lace, and it laid limp around your waist. Your hands losing their sense of direction on the headboard and flying from his hands, to his hair, back to the headboard, not able to find a place that will ground you. He licked and suckked at your clit, you jerking in his grasp which only entails a growl and a firmer hold around you, preventing you from moving away. His flicked open and closed, caught between watching you and focusing on your pleasure, enjoying your taste on his tongue.

“Oh god Chris,” you moaned out, tugging on his hair again. “Oh god, I’m gonna cum,” you let out a normally embarrassing whine but were too lost to care.

You breathe caught in your throat when he pulled away, sucking at your skin, “Already love? Were just getting started.” He allowed you the moment to push down on his mouth, your chest heaving trying to keep up. He sealed his grip again and went to town until your face was twisted up in a silent scream, gushing all over him, for sure making a mess. You came down from your high, his tongue pulling large circles around your clit and dipping back down to clean your mess. He laid kisses against your clit having your body flick in his grasp, still sensitive. Though when he didn’t let up, your heart raced, looking down at him with no mercy showing in his eyes.

“Baby, ah, I’m too sensitive,” you jumped again, trying to pull yourself up using the headboard as leverage. “Ooooo, no,” You moaned, raising your voice when he sucked your clit harshly into his mouth making your vision run white. You felt his fingers replace his tongue rubbing slowly.

“You want me to stop? Like you stopped messing with me?” He said biting and leaving a mark on your skin. He pressed his tongue, swiping up your slit, your eyes rolling back, grinding down on him.

“Look at me,” He mumbled against you. Your head was heavy on your shoulders and you creeped your eyes open to him, only for them to shut again as soon as he moved his tongue. “Look at me or I’ll stop and leave you dripping,” you could tell by his tone of voice that he wasn’t lying. You shoved your head forward and watched down at him through hooded eyes. His lips started at work again, tongue wiggling itself into your hole massaging your walls as deep as he could. Your eyes were open in shock staring at the erotic scene, and sounds he was making. You could feel your blood run hot, pulsing through you, where you needed him most.

“I’m- oh I’m gonna come,” you groaned out. His arms tighten around your thighs holding you to him and he worked feverishly on your clit. You watched him take over your senses, pretty sure you stopped breathing all together as you dragged you to your peak, spilling over, clenching over his face, hips rocking in his grasp involuntarily. You let out a gasp of air as you kept coming hard on his mouth, his tongue retreating to soft circles around your over sensitive nub.

You started to feel you muscles loosen from their tense nature, and he helped support you as you slipped down his torso and laid on his side. You legs remained propped around his waist while you tried to come back down to earth, your ears ringing.

“Holy shit,” you mumbled incoherently. Your legs felt numb over him, and you felt his hands shove hair out of your face, his thumb brush across your eyelid. When did you close your eyes? His hand roamed slowly over your own twitching body, his touch bringing your senses back to life slowly.

He watched your face lost in the reminisce of an orgasm, wiping his face with the bed sheet. He watched you with such tense adoration that he was sure you could rip his heart out his chest at the very moment and it would beat for only you. He didn’t care that he had a hard on that was almost painful and that you most likely didn’t have the energy to move at the moment. He didn’t care that you drove him crazy sometimes. He didn’t care that he didn’t get to show you off to the world yet. He cared that you were willingly still in his life and that was enough for him.

You suddenly felt the bed dip and a warm wet cloth wipe across your forehead. You eyes flinched at the contact, where did he get that? You jumped slightly when he ran it across your sensitive core and your thighs, washing away whatever mess you both made.

He laid down next to you and pulled you to his chest, kissing your forehead.

“I love you.”

“Are you sure you want me to go?” “I can wait to see it, really.”

“(Y/n) I’m not going to say it again, I swear, just pick a dress.” You were currently in the same house back in LA, staring at a rack of five different dresses, all matching Chris’s suit choices. He wants you to come with him to the premiere tonight, and you have 5 hours before you need to leave and all the sudden he’s like “oh yea, by the way, your coming with me tonight”. Uh, what? The initial panic wore off too fast and now you were just curious. You stood next to India looking over your choices.

“What do you think?” You asked her, starting to favor the white dress and a blush pink dress.

“Papa which are you wearing?” She asked him in retaliation. Smart girl.

“Well, sweetheart I wanted (y/n) to pick, but I’m thinking either the printed jacket with the solid pants or the printed pants with the solid jacket, definitely the navy blue though. What do you think?” You eyed his choices hanging on the rack and the material and patterns.

“Ok, dont hate me,” you started to laugh, “But I like the printed pants and the printed jacket with a solid shirt.” He eyed the two pieces, and slowly started to nod.

“You’re right.” He grabbed the two and dressed in them so we could see the whole look. India nodded in approval, grabbing at the blush pink silk dress for you to wear.

“(Y/n) wear this one.” You pulled the hangar from the rack and felt the material between your fingers. The smooth silk texture was bound to feel amazing and comfortable against your skin. You smiled at her and walked to the bathroom to slip it on, the designer following you in to help you zip it up.

“Wow,” she said behind you looking in the mirror, “Fits you like a glove.” You blushed from the compliment, she wasn’t wrong. You opened the door and stepped out, picking up the bottom as you walked, sighing when you realized you would need to wear heels with it. Not your favorite thing in the world.

“Wow.”

“Wow.” Like father like daughter. You blushed and looked down at the dress from their stare. If you couldn’t control your reaction from their staring, how were you going to around others?

“Do you like it?” You asked them both, gauging their reactions. Chris floating with nothing but adoration from his eyes, raking across the material and how it lays daintily across your skin. You watched his eyes dance around the dress and he walked closer to you resting his hands on your shoulders to admire up close.

“Beautiful,” he kissed your lips softly, your head feeling like it was floating till a ‘eww’ leaked from Indy’s mouth, Chris waving a hand at her, dismissing her. The designers’ assistant leading her upstairs to join the boys where they were watching The Incredibles to keep them away for awhile. Your eyes followed them as they disappeared up the staircase.

You sighed, you shoulders dropping, “I’m kind of nervous.” ‘Kind of’ was an understatement.

“That’s alright, I’ll be with you and if and when I get pulled away, I’ll make sure you are in good hands. Miley and Liam will be there, so will Luke and his wife, you can keep each other company.” The designer interrupted you showing you a jumpsuit for after the carpet, that you could change into for the actual screening and the after party. This was really going to happen. You knew it meant alot to him, you couldn’t say no this time or hold him back, it would be selfish. You nodded and went with the flow, following instructions to go take a shower, hair and makeup would be here within the hour.

You pulled up to the venue, staring out the windows at the hoards of people behind barricades and the hoards of people with cameras and interviewers. “Chris, I really think I’m going to throw up.”

“Hey, It’ll be alright,” he said, turning your head to him, laying a quick, soft, reassuring kiss to your lips. “Just hold on to my hands, I won’t let you trip. You don’t have to talk to anyone, just smile. The photographers will scream at you and tell you to turn this way and that. Just ignore them or do as I do. They might shout and ask who you are, just ignore them. Gen will instruct each interviewer what not to ask before I speak with them. You be with Miley and Liam after the carpet while I do some press.” His hand laid comforting on the side of your neck, keeping your attention, trying to digest everything he was saying. “Everything is under control.” He gave you a small smile, trying to decipher what you were thinking. You nodded in his grasp while he watched you making sure you were sure.

“Okay. I trust you. I love you.”

“And I love you. I’m going to get out and come around to your door, alright? As soon as I open your door, there will be pictures, okay?” You nodded again and took a deep breath, letting him know you were ready.

As soon as he opened the door, there were shouts about who you were and asking you both to look in their direction. You clasped both your hands in front, grabbing Chris’s hand in yours, hoping it would disguise the shaking. You smiled like he said, and followed his lead. Gen met you at the entrance and directed you through crowds and past interviewers to the carpet first so you could get it over with.

He whispered a reassurance in your ear, and you put on your brave face. The same sweet smile that you plastered when you turned the corner in his house for the first time, seeing him standing there in the kitchen, masking your shock. It was the same smile. Beautifully mastered.

Feeling his presence next to you was enough to drown out the shouts and flashes of the cameras and people behind them. You took a few steps with him, shifting down the back drop, hoping that the makeup would cover the blush flooding your cheeks when chris kissed you cheek in front of the cameras and mumbled a, “Your doing amazing,” in your ear. You could see Gen on the end, ushering you down the back drop a few steps. A few more moments and then it would be over. You finally gave in to a person yelling for an over the shoulder shot, and turned you head finding the camera, putting on a bright, shy smile. One could only hope you don’t look stupid right now.

Finally off the carpet, the cameras left your direction and you watched as you finally laid eyes on Liam and Miley starting the carpet. Chris gave you a quick goodbye kissing your cheek, as you watched them walk in front of the cameras, waiting for them at the end. Liam laughing at Miley and walking out of the way so she could have her own shots. She was a natural, glowing and carefree, in front of them all. It seemed like a totally different person from the Miley you grew to know. You watched her as she finally met you both at the end, walking behind and out of view.

“Wow,” you told her as she admired your own dress, “you are so amazing.” A new found sense of pride came over as you watched her retreat back to into a shell that she was in outside of the public eye. They both complemented your dress, you returning it. You both walked towards the entrance, them both saying they did a few interview before hand. You nodded and waited a moment to see if you could find Chris in the sea of people. You found Chris alright, but it wasn’t the one you were looking for.

You surpessed your panic for the hundredth time and turned to Miley sporting a mischievous smile. She followed your gaze and found him, shaking her head at you. Oh your were definitely making him introduce you after the screening. One hundred percent. You were in a slightly confident mood and needed to do it today before the high wears off and you become mortified again.

After you and Miley changed out of your dresses and heels into a bit more of a casual attire, you three went inside and took seats as the cast started to pile into the front of the theatre. You eyed the crowd, finding some of your favorites in the mix, a moment of pride filling your body to see your Chris up there with them all. This is the kind of moment where a person evaluates their life and needs a pinch to prove that it’s real.

Taglist: @keithseabrook27 @odinson-barnes @jonsnowisthesexiestbastard

@weekendswithnewtmas @innerpaperexpertcloud @toomanyflowerboys @thefashioncomplex @basmaraafat @imaginationintowords @taketimeandappreciate @superheroesaremytea

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jeongfm-blog · 6 years ago

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hello everyone ! my name’s 𝒍𝒖𝒎𝒂 ( pronouns they / them ) and i’m super excited to be here ! it’s been a while since my last city rp , but since it’s one of my fave kinds of rp , i figured i would give it a whirl once again ! some boring facts about myself is that i’m a sucker for golden hour despite not even having an instagram , i spend too much time watching youtube videos ( i recently got back into watching my girl jenn im and now i remember why i’m so obsessed with her ) , and i have books on my shelf that i got for christmas and haven’t read a single one ! i’m super excited to introduce you guys to my pride and joy 𝒔𝒐𝒇𝒊𝒂 𝒋𝒆𝒐𝒏𝒈 as well as to plot and interact with everyone !

full name : sofia jeong.

nickname(s): sof and posy by her dad only !

birthday : february 9th, 1997.

zodiac : aquarius.

moral alignment : neutral good.

gender : cisfemale.

pronouns: she/her/hers.

sexual orientation : bisexual.

romantic orientation : biromantic.

height : 5′6″ ( five foot, six inches ).

hometown : ascot, brisbane, australia.

nationality : australian.

ethnicity : korean.

language(s) spoken : english, korean, and conversational portuguese.

occupation : social media influencer.

aesthetics : bright computer screens at two am, a pristine instagram theme, morning dew, perfect lighting, clear lip gloss, glass skin, selfies in small circular mirrors, freshly dyed rose gold hair, oversized tees and denim shorts, soft skin on white sheets, foreign languages, bright early mornings, staring in awe into someone’s eyes, honeyed laughter, music playing in the background, late night drives, early morning hikes, iced coffee on cold mornings, vanilla scented body lotion, the sound of pencil on paper, highlighter gleaming in the sunlight, perfectly styled hair, and soft pink on crisp white shirts.

i. background.

taemin jeong was a freshman at the university of queensland, studying computer science, when he met his future girlfriend grace kim, who was studying architecture. he was awkward and bumbling while she was sociable and graceful ( no pun intended ), but somehow the couple was a perfect match from the moment they met in freshman algebra. they made their friends sick with their love and moved through the challenges of college with one another.

the summer before their senior year, they moved into their own off-campus apartment. this same summer, grace discovered that she was pregnant with their first and only child, who the couple later named sofia. when the couple graduated, sofia was three months old and featured in a lot of their graduation photos.

after their graduation, though, things for the couple began to fall apart. while taemin wanted to marry grace and have a family, grace was feeling trapped as she wasn’t expecting to have a child so soon. so, one day when taemin took sofia to visit his parents, grace packed her things and one picture of their daughter before leaving a note for taemin.

to put it lightly, taemin was heartbroken upon discovery that grace was gone, but he couldn’t sulk for long as he had a wide eyed seven month old to care for. so from that point on, taemin focused on his career and sofia. he thankfully had the help of his parents while he worked long hours to save money, but after two years they moved into their forever home.

growing up, sofia’s life was pretty normal, despite the fact that her mom wasn’t around. there were times where things were tight in the one parent household, but for the most part sofia has no complaints about her childhood. much like a lot of people, sofia was a kid who liked filming weird videos with her friends and doing absolutely nothing with them other than leaving them on the computer for her dad to find.

the very first beauty youtuber that sofia ever watched ( like a lot of people ) was michelle phan ! she absolutely fell in love with michelle and began wanting to do her own makeup videos as well. she made a really crappy channel when she was like ... twelve and let’s just say that the video she made was horrific ! like most youtubers, her channel’s name was like like sofiaposybeauty60 or something ugly like that.

a few years later, when she was about fifteen, sofia tried her hand at youtube once again. this time she made a twitter and instagram to correspond with it, hoping that she could build something of a platform. her videos were of terrible quality and her makeup was probably really bad, but she did it anyways. she’d post her makeup looks on instagram and when that grew, so did her channel.

skipping along because i talk too damn much, now at twenty two, sofia has five million subscribers on youtube and 1.6 million followers on her instagram. if i were to compare her to an actual youtuber, i’d say she’s a mix between jenn im and sophia chang. she’s very much into staying in her own lane and her videos are pretty ~aesthetic and chill. she has her own online clothing store as well called ( something, idk yet ).

anyways, sofia made the move to barcelona from brisbane about a year and a half ago because she wanted a change of scenery. she came to barcelona previously on a trip with some girlfriends and after a while of planning, she made the move ! she currently lives in a cozy little apartment with her eight month old goldendoodle named rockie !

ii. appearance.

sofia’s appearance is pretty much canon to rosé’s ! her hair is currently strawberry blonde and is always a variety of such. she likes to change her hair color every so often, but this is the one that’s been around for a while. sofia hasn’t had dark hair since she was about thirteen years old, which is when she first dyed her hair from black to brown. since then, she slowly began to lighten it to where it is now.

when it comes to her sense of style, it’s very much inspired by model off duty. it includes a lot of denim, a lot of black, ankle boots, and sneakers. she’s a big fan of tote bags and is usually always seen with one ( since she’s always carrying around a camera, her laptop, and other little things ). it’s no surprise that she has a container in her closet full of them, but she of course, has her more luxury ones in her collection as well.

for the most part though, when she’s just lounging around her apartment, sofia is super casual. it’s fuzzy socks. it’s oversized tees that swallow her physique. there’s no makeup on her face. she has on her glasses and her hair is piled onto her head in the messiest of messy buns. she’s a huge fan of jewelry though and is hardly ever seen without rings on her fingers and her favorite necklace around her neck.

iii. personality.

vociferous, precisian, and beguiling : when it comes to her positive traits, most of it entails from her career on social media. prior to being on youtube, sofia was more on the quiet side and kept to herself, but since then especially with doing vlogs, she’s more comfortable being the one to start a conversation. she’s a big perfectionist, also stemming from her career, but it’s trickled into behind the camera as well. she doesn’t like to half ass anything, no matter what it may be. and finally, sofia is as charming as ever. she can charm the pants off of anything with a little eye glimmer and a hair flip, she’s got them in the bag.

advantageous, negligible, and censorious : as for her negative traits, sofia is advantageous in regard that she knows how to work people into believing that she’s the best choice for them. it’s how she’s gotten most of her sponsorships -- sometimes her manager jokes with her that she doesn’t really need him. sofia is super petty as well, which is actually bad -- she’s the girl who doesn’t let ignorant comments slip on her instagram or twitter, but sometimes all it does is get her into trouble with her public relations team. finally, sofia can be critical of people at times, even if she doesn’t mean it in a malicious way. maybe it stems from being analyzed constantly herself, but she can sometimes immediately regret it after it’s been said unless it’s someone that she doesn’t get along with.

iv. wanted plots.

i’ll have a wanted connections page up every soon with a couple of detailed plots that i’d like to have, but i’m always down for ( but not limited to ) enemies with benefits, ex friends, best friends, flirtationship, failed relationship, best friends, squad, almost relationship, good/bad influence, family friends, someone who appears on her channel, slow burn ( !!! ), workout buddies, neighbors, confidants, and above all else, chemistry !

#hqbarcelona:intro #i got a lil too detailed so this is a bit long i'm sorry !#and i'm late and i gotta do my tags i'm TRASH

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inawickedlittletown · 6 years ago

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Walking The Wire (108/?)

Summary: Tony Stark always knew about Peter Parker. He didn’t know that Peter was going to get superpowers and become Spider-Man, but he always knew about Peter because Peter was his son.

This will span from pre-Iron Man up through the rest of the MCU (eventually including Infinity War) and will be for the most part canon compliant except where I’ve taken some liberties and interpreted canon a certain way.

Pairings: Pepper/Tony, Tony/Steve (endgame), Tony/Mary (past)

A/N: If you want me to tag you when I post new chapters let me know. This fic is also on AO3

I used Collider’s MCU timeline to stay canon and the title of this fic is an Imagine Dragons song that is just so fitting for Peter and Tony

@findmeinthestarss

Masterpost

Chapter One Hundred Seven

They never found out what had been going on with Loki and Thor because nothing came of their appearance and then disappearance because aside from a blip somewhere in Ireland that wasn’t necessarily them, there was nothing and while Tony waited for the other shoe to drop and something crazy to happen somewhere else in the world, nothing did.

“So, do you think he was just popping in for a visit and didn’t even think to stop by here?” Rhodey asked during a team meeting.

“I don’t know,” Tony said. “And there’s no way to contact him. I called up Jane and she -- well, apparently they broke up sometime before he left the last time and she didn’t have a way to contact him anyway which is sort of why they broke up.”

“But nothing’s happened right,” Sam said. “I mean, no random Asgardians have shown up so--”

“Not since then,” Tony said. “At least not that my satellites picked up anyway. But Coulson or Fury would have mentioned if they heard anything.”

Tony kept paying attention, but nothing outside of the usual happened. Ross’ announcement that Spider-Man was Tony’s son had been a small blip that most people didn’t pay attention to despite all the pictures that Ross had managed to get of Spider-Man coming and going from the tower. Mostly, he just sounded like a conspiracy theorist especially after Tony tweeted that his son was definitely not Spider-Man and that the theory had made Steve laugh. Still, he was sure some people did believe Ross’ story. It was also a concern that Ross was clearly keeping an eye on the tower.

There was a whole thing with the resurgence of AIM in the middle of August but it was such a disorganized mess that they didn’t get very far in even setting themselves up as a threat and Tony had them all rounded up and arrested in the course of an afternoon.

By the time that the summer was actually over, Tony was starting to relax on the Thor front. Peter on the other hand was a tad disappointed that he hadn’t gotten to meet the god yet. It turned out that next to Iron Man, Thor was Peter’s favorite.

“He’s an actual god,” Peter had said, “but also an alien. And just cool. He’s just so cool.”

Sam found the whole thing amusing. “Your kid has good taste at least,” he said, “if he had to crush on any of us.”

“It’s not a crush! I just -- he’s a god, Sam! And the lightning--” Peter trailed off as Sam laughed and Tony tried not to join in.

“He is seriously impressive,” Natasha said in Peter’s defense.

“Yes, exactly,” Peter said.

“Which is why you had a crush on him,” Sam said matter of factly and Peter threw up his arms in the air and Tony knew that he had figured out he couldn’t really say much else to make a difference to the conversation. Mostly, though, Tony loved the level of ease that Peter had with the rest of The Avengers.

But when Peter’s birthday came around, Tony decided that they needed to go on a mini-vacation. Not to get away from anyone, but because Tony wanted to spend some time on his own with Peter away from wedding planning and everything else that was going on at the tower. They went to California because Peter had never been to the West Coast and because Peter had also been interested in seeing the rebuilt Malibu house. It was fun to show Peter around and take him to a few of Tony’s favorite spots. All in all, their vacation was a nice break from the usual. They got back after a couple of weeks away and right in time for Peter to get back to school and Tony to move forward with the new suit. Everything was ready and Tony just needed to have the housing unit put in his chest.

On the night before school was starting up again, Peter was leaning against Tony’s side. There was a movie on, but Tony had long given up on watching it because the plot had changed so drastically that the movie was downright silly and either way, Tony had gotten busy answering emails because Pepper couldn’t understand why Tony was delegating everything to do with SI for the next week or two. Tony still hadn’t told her that he was going to be putting in the housing unit for the nanotech in his chest. He and Shuri both agreed that it was the only way to make it as effective as Tony wanted it to be.

“Is it going to be a long operation?” Peter asked.

Tony looked down at him. “A few hours.”

“I don’t like that I’ll be in school and I won’t be here.”

The whole thing with Thor had really hastened Tony to get the device ready faster. He wanted to be prepared for the next time something happened and things would have been dire if Thor’s return had signaled the beginning of something being wrong. Sure, Tony had his other suits, but the nanotech one was going to be better than any other. Steve and Peter for their part thought that he knew best despite the risk that the surgery would bring him.

“You’ll be here plenty,” Tony assured him. “Nothing is going to go wrong. I have the best doctors on this and we have a good plan for how we’re handling this.”

“Dr. Cho is pretty great,” Peter said with a grin.

Tony wrapped his arm around Peter’s shoulders and pulled him closer. “So why did you want to watch this movie again?”

“Ned recommended it,” Peter muttered. “I don’t think I’ll be taking his advice on movies again any time soon.”

Tony laughed. “On that we can agree, kid.”

---

Steve didn’t argue with Tony once Tony decided that he needed to get the housing unit put into his chest. It was Tony’s body and Tony’s decision and while Steve did voice his questions and got Tony to think about the pros and cons, he left it up to Tony because Tony knew best when it came to his suits. The device was different than the arc reactor, anyway, in that it wasn’t working to keep Tony alive. Looking at the ring with the shrapnel that had almost killed Tony, reminded Steve of how much Tony had gone through and survived.

He was with Tony during the operation, holding his hand while Dr. Cho and her team worked on Tony with a combination of Dr. Cho’s tech and Shuri’s as well. It brought down the risk for the procedure considerably. When it was over a few hours later and the whole thing was successful, Steve let out a sigh of relief.

“Good,” he said.

The whole thing was taking place in the compound since the facility had a medical wing and Tony had gone ahead and added an operating room to it too. It meant that Tony was going to be staying at the compound for a few days even if that was more of a precaution than anything, but it was better for him to not have to travel to the tower while fresh out of his operation. Steve had insisted on being there so his anklet was off. The FBI had only checked in on them once since putting the anklets on and the only reason they showed up in the first place was that Sam’s had malfunctioned. It was lucky that they were all in the tower at the time, not that Fury had been sending them on a lot of missions lately. Things were on the quiet side.

“He’ll be asleep for a little longer,” Helen said. “We’ll move him somewhere comfortable. You can call Peter in, if you want.”

“I’ll go get him,” Steve said and leaned over to kiss Tony’s forehead first.

Helen smiled at him.

When he returned with Peter in tow, Tony had been moved into one of the rooms in the medical wing. Tony was still asleep, but he looked peaceful all tucked into bed.

“Everything went perfectly, Peter,” Helen said. “He’ll be awake in an hour or two. Myself or someone from my team will come check in.”

“I’m glad,” Peter said as Helen grabbed a few things and walked out of the room. “I was actually a little worried,” he admitted to Steve. “I just -- I’ve lost all the father figures in my life and he was doing this and I was worried.”

Peter walked to stand by Tony’s bed and Steve moved forward and placed a hand on his shoulder. “You dad rarely does anything that isn’t for a reason. And if he had suspected that this was any riskier than it needed to be he wouldn’t have done it because the last thing he wants is to leave you. Shuri and Helen worked this out and you know how smart they are.”

“I know,” Peter said and looked up at Steve. “I just couldn’t help it. And thanks for helping me get out of school today. Dad just kept saying how I didn’t need to be here.”

“Yeah, well, he hates that we fuss about him.”

---

Taking it easy was boring. At least, it wasn’t bed rest. Tony could move around and he could go to the workshop but he was limited by how long he could work and how much he could lift or really do which ultimately just made him grumpy. Steve was also hovering for most of his time in there and jumping in to do things for him which Tony had found endearing at first but then kind of frustrating. So, he was happy to be back to normal a month and a half later even if Steve still seemed a bit wary of him doing much. Pepper was worse. She had started to just show up to make sure he was okay every other day right after Tony moved back to the tower and she’d fussed and fussed over him after telling him off for putting the housing unit in his chest in the first place until Tony had enough.

“You know,” Steve said one afternoon, “it’s almost been a year since I came back.”

“It has,” Tony said. A full year. It had been more than a year since the whole fiasco with The Vulture too. They were lucky that there hadn’t been any big villain like that popping up since but even if there had been, Tony was confident that Peter would have been able to handle it.

Training with Steve and the team in general had made a huge difference to Peter’s capabilities as Spider-Man. Peter didn’t use the Iron Spider suit often, opting for his other suit over that one most of the time, but he had gotten so much better with his powers and just his physicality because he wasn’t just following his instincts which were often good, he was doing more. Strategizing and thinking his plans through and really knowing his strengths and weaknesses and using that knowledge to do things in the best way possible.

“And it hasn’t been all bad,” Steve said.

“Yeah,” Tony said. “I half expected you to get too bored to stay.”

“I’ve found that life can’t be boring when you’re in it. But, not just that, it makes a difference that we’re together. You’ve made this worth it and it’s just one more year, Tony.”

“We better hope nothing crazy happens before then,” Tony said. “I thought Thor coming back meant--”

Steve nodded. “I know. I know. I did too. I just wonder what the whole point of it was. He wouldn’t have shown up and left that quickly without there being some reason and I just don’t trust that Loki was with him. Wasn’t he supposed to be dead?”

“Yeah,” Steve said. “That’s what Thor said.”

“Jane was confused about that too. She seemed concerned -- but she hasn’t called which means she hasn’t found anything alarming. At least I have this thing now,” Tony said and tapped his chest. “It makes me feel a little better about any possible threats.”

It was Tony’s fear -- and had been since going through that wormhole -- that they’d be faced with something from outside their world again. Even if nothing came to pass, he wanted them to be prepared. After all, he’d seen what some of those aliens could do and create and it was only a matter of time before Earth became a target again. Loki being alive -- he’d been the one behind the attack in New York. Of course, helped by the stone in the scepter but nevertheless one of the reasons. Thor had said he was leaving to find out more about the stones and...and maybe it was what he was still trying to figure out. It worried Tony.

Chapter One Hundred Nine

#peter and tony #peter and tony fic #mcuwriting #mcu fic #iron dad #iron dad and spider son #stony #stony fic #marvel

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bright-hao · 7 years ago

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soft bias tag

okay, its been ages since i did a tag on here!! but my hermanita @hocidi(or hijita now? since you call me mom?) tagged me to do this soft bias tag!

my ult is still minghao, but bc most of this is romantic stuff(and i dont really have a lot of romantic feelings for hao) i’m gonna do my other best boy, seungkwan

Who is your bias: Boo Seungkwan of Seventeen

What made you notice them: I always loved seungkwan, its so funny cause at first i used to be like “oh i wish seungkwan was my twin” and as time went on it was like “yes, seungkwan and i would be best friends we’d be a killer duo” but like...by the time boom boom era came around and he dyed his hair blond the first time? fuck dude, i knew i was in love. very specifically there’s one photo (here) that always comes to mind when i think about first falling head first for him, and well. now he’s my guy.

what’s your favorite thing about them: boy, everything! physically, i love his cheekbones/jaw combo, people really dont pay enough attention to his bone structure. and personality wise, i love his ability to just talk and command all the attention in a room if he wants to,especially because it’s not in a scary, authoritative way, and i feel it makes people comfortable while they also respect him and hold him in high esteem bc of it. I personally have a close relationship with words, so to see the abilities he has with just his everyday speech is...spectacular

who would initiate skinship more: i think both of us, but in different ways? i feel like i would initiate a lot of smaller touches, just so we can be in constant contact, and also id probably spend a lot of time thinking about something before i do it, but i feel like seungkwan would be like hey! let’s hug, and we’d...hug. he’d probably initiate bigger things, like hugging and hand holding, and it’d be more spontaneous for him.

who would hog the blankets more: i don’t really feel cold easily and tend to get warmer as the night goes on, so what might really happen is seungkwan will often wake up buried under all the blankets because i pushed them over to his side in the middle of the night

who would be more clingy: earlier on, it would be him, bc i dont let myself get overly attached to people, but maybe if we spend years together and i get used to him/his constant presence in my life, things might change

who would say I love you first: oooohhh this one’s tricky. if i feel like he’s still sorting through his feelings and commitments, i’ll wait for him to say it first, but if i feel sure about him and where his heart is at, i’ll say it as soon as possible. possibly way earlier than most people would. it’s not a big deal to me when the words drop(bc it’s really not about words anyway for me, its about proving it with your actions, and if he loves me i should know even without him saying it), but if it is for him then i guess i’d wait til he felt right about it. granted, i think the more open you are to begin with the faster seungkwan himself would open up, so maybe it’ll just be a toss up bc we’ll both already be on the same page.

who would be more easily flustered: i’m a confident gay, so like, it would definitely be me making him flustered as much as i can for fun.

What cuddling position would you two have: okay, so here’s what i’m thinking: he’s mostly on his back, however he’s comfy, and i’m curled up at his side with one leg thrown over him and he has one arm around/under me, and my head is either next to his on the pillow or on his shoulder (like this). we can reverse the positions too we’re flexible

which colors remind you of them and why: sunset colours!! i often call him my sunset boy, so sunset colours, and very specifically all shades of orange, make me think of him. they’re just...warm and sweet but also fiesty and bold colours which is...him in print.

which season would you like to spend with them: uhhh all of them for the rest of my life? Idk, I feel stupid answering this since I live in a tropical country but...mm, maybe the time period where it's not quite spring yet but it's not really winter anymore...like, imagine going on a road trip and you get to see the landscape change from white and snowy to bare for a little while and then everything blooms. gorgeous. i wanna do that with him. or maybe the summer season in the arctic where it’s light out 24 hours a day. or just mango season here in trinidad

who would bake cookies and who would steal the batter: seungkwan would probably make the decision for us to bake cookies together bc it’ll be a fun bonding experience or whatever, but he doesnt really know what he’s doing, so i have to give him all the instructions and explain everything to him, and then i let him struggle with all the dirty work and look on and occasionally snatch bits of the dough to ‘make sure it’s coming out right’

which one of you would make bad puns and how would the other react: i dont really do puns, so it’ll have to be him. he probably spends all his alone time trying to come up with them. over text, he might get a eye roll emoji or a ‘why are you like this’, in person i’d probably just ignore it completely and continue the conversation like it never happened. (which might make him pouty, but pouty seungkwan is adorable, so either way i win)

which one of you would nearly burn down the kitchen trying to microwave a poptart and who come to the rescue: i’m brown and poor poptarts have never been a thing in my house, so i suppose it’ll be me who screws up. wake up in the middle of the night hungry so i sneak into the kitchen as quiet as possible, not even turning on any lights, put the thing in the microwave for way longer than its supposed to be. when it explodes seungkwan runs outside half asleep bc he wants to know who got shot. he cleans the mess bc he loves me and tells me to leave the pop tart prep to him in the future.

who likes to lean over tall railings and who pulls them back: it would be me, adrenaline junkie and lover of risks and high places, leaning over the railing of a tall building like ‘omg, i could jump right now it would be like flying’ seungkwan would drag me away and probably sit me down and lecture me about it too

what would you watching a horror film with them be like: i would never watch a horror movie, lol. next question.

who would be the cheesy flirt and who would be the smooth flirt: i think we could both be cheesy when we wanted to, but maybe more him than me since he’s the king of cheese. flirting is one of my favourite pastimes, so i’d probably be a decently smooth flirt. as earlier mentioned, my greatest joy would be seeing him flustered and at a loss for words bc of just how smooth i am

who is more competitive: oh we are BOTH very competitive, it’s super fun when we’re playing a game or a sport and we’re on the same side and trying to crush the opponents, but i think we try to get on opposite teams bc its ten times more fun to try and beat each other. like just the thought of being better at him at something is already exhilarating to me ;;;)))))))

who would have to be given constant reminders: for tasks that are hard/uninteresting, i’ll have to have him remind me cause i’ll find 500 things that are more interesting to distract me when i just need to suck it up and get the thing done, and i’ll need the nudge. when it comes to just forgetting, i’ll probably have to remind him bc it totally slipped his mind.

who sends memes and who sends cute I miss you text at 3 am: he definitely sends the memes, im way too lazy to save them on my phone and then have to go looking for one that’s appropriate, that’s a lot of work. i’m happy to receive them though. and uhh...i wouldn’t send anyone a text like that at 3am and i wouldn’t like to receive one either, and i would tell him that. emotions get weird and warped at that hour, and i dont trust them on a regular basis, much less at 3 o’clock in the morning. i say, hold it in for now and if you still feel the same at 10am? then you go ahead and tell me you miss me. BUT if i get a message at 10am from seungkwan saying he misses me/loves me/is thinking of me? i would be on a cloud for the entire day.

this was really fun! my heart is warrrrrrrrrmmmm and ive been in soft stan mode for the past two days cause of it. so now i’m gonna tag @woozifi @minigum @mvpgyu @pabospoiler @seonyein @szrw @witchzi @yookik have fun friends!

#seungkwan #svt #ginger and honey #tag games

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chickenkooks · 8 years ago

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the noisy neighbors [m]

❛❛i live in a house full of stupid men and their dirty underwear except there is an angel in their midst and he cleans up after himself and does everyone’s laundry and we share the same neighbor who likes to have wild sex every night and the hot boy hates confrontation but i guess not when his dick is in my vagina❜❜ AU

COUNT → 7.143

GENRE → smut

PAIRING → jinyoung | reader

note → this is for my friend @loljinyoungie because it’s her birthday today!!!! birthday smut!!!! so if ur reading this. please feel free to send her a birthday message :-D i hope u like this smut though!!!!! i told you i would finish it!!!!!!!!! a little later than i planned but oH WELL HAVE AT ALL YOUR KINKS I HOPE I DID THEM JUSTICE. AND IF I SPELLED HIS NAME “JIMYOUNG” ANYWHERE IM GONNA BE SO MAD IDK WHY THAT IS EVEN A THING THAT HAPPENS

You really hated the fact that you were such a light sleeper.

One of your favorite sounds in the world was nothing. That's not to say you didn't have a favorite sound, but that your favorite sound was literally nothing. Nothing was the sound of a cool breeze blowing against your house's exterior. Or maybe it was even the sound of rain dripping from your roof outside your window—sounds like those.

Nothing was white noise, but it also sounded cooler to say nothing rather than that.

However, the sound of bodies thudding into the wall next to you? That was definitely not white noise.

Your walls were thin. And it just so happened that the wall your bed was propped against was the same wall that your viagra housemate liked to frequent with his dick rammed in something—usually some girl's poor vagina. And it was never her who was loud, always him. He moaned and cursed and grunted very violently that sometimes you worried for her safety—or all of their safety if it was more than one girl. Still, this happened every single night.

It was like he had to have his dick in something every day that you kind of worried about him, too.

And it was never at the same time either. Sometimes, he liked to start the day off with his dick sucked. You know, that's reasonable because once you were asleep, you were fucking asleep and not even his low grunts could wake your slumber. It was like you were a vampire or something, except you did enjoy garlic bread from time to time.

Why don't you just move your bed?

A good question.

Though, why the fuck should you have to take the time out of your day to move around your prehistoric mattress and bedframe just so that you could fucking go to sleep? You were stubborn—you could admit that. He should have the good human fucking decency to not fucking wake up the entire house with his weird sex noises.

Or maybe you hadn't gotten laid for a long time and this was something that made you bitter.

Maybe you were bitter. He was getting laid every fucking night and there you were watching Veggie Tales while eating a salad because... cannibalism. That could be it but you also weren't the only person in your house who hated him. In fact, your other housemate on the opposite side of his room was actually just as peeved as you.

Jinyoung was his name.

Except Jinyoung didn't like to complain.

When you met him—and everyone else living in the house—he was the one who kept to himself. He made polite conversation and listened when you complained that hail was an abomination to weather, but he never really volunteered any complaints of his own. Maybe he didn't like you and thought you were a freak for hating hail when you could be spending your time doing something productive, but then he asked to use your toaster oven the day after because his broke. And that's what got you talking—not every day, though. Jinyoung wasn't home often—he worked in some office downtown. In fact, Jinyoung was hardly ever home at a reasonable time either.

But he always came back just when the guy sandwiched between your rooms started getting jiggy with it.

That was a reference that he was fucking someone without having to say that.

Sitting straight up in bed, your feet eased into your slippers beside your bedside table, storming out your bedroom door and into the main upstairs hallway so you could make him shut up already. This wasn't the first time you'd done this and it sure as fuck wouldn't be the last; he just never got the message. You would say, "Kindly shut up, you insignificant pest," and he would say, "Sure thing, Cantaloupe. Sorry about all the noise. I'll be quiet."

Cantaloupe wasn't even your fucking name—or a name at all—so you had no idea where he got that from.

It was like his fucking ears were made out of cantaloupes.

You squinted as you closed your door and listened with a twitching eyebrow as you could hear his headboard slamming against the wall. You'd just been innocently laying in your bed for the past few hours reading when suddenly there were sex noises and you wanted to fling yourself out your open bedroom window.

Just as you went to knock violently on his door, you heard the front door opening and footsteps up the stairs.

"Oh," Jinyoung said as soon as he saw you, loosening his suit's tie. "Hey."

Your cheeks heated as you glanced down at what you were wearing—a skimpy white tank top and a pair of pajama bottoms with illustrations of morbidly obese cats decorating the fabric. You crossed your arms over your chest in an 'x' formation as you turned around, smiling at him awkwardly. He gave your body a once over, then snorted.

"What keeps you up at this late hour, Cantaloupe?"

You rolled your eyes. Park Jinyoung thought he was funny.

"Ha-ha," you replied, monotonously. "You're hilarious."

Remembering why you were in the hallway being teased by Jinyoung, you looked back at the door and listened for a moment for any more noises coming from within his room. When there was a crash inside, there was suddenly an incomprehensible shout about how his dead grandma bought him that vase and then something else.

If it was incomprehensible, how did you know that?

You were able to make out a few words—that's how.

"Ah. He's making his noises again tonight, huh?"

"Yes, so if you'll excuse me—"

You went to knock on his door when Jinyoung suddenly reached out, grasping your wrist so it hung mid-air. You glanced over your shoulder at him then, furrowing your eyebrows just as he slowly let go.

Jinyoung had this thing where he hated confrontation, you remembered.

"Jinyoung," you huffed out. "If I don't say something, he'll just—"

"I know but surely he's almost done by now."

"Well, I need to say something."

Jinyoung sighed. "He hasn't listened to anything you've said to him before. What makes now any different?"

"So you want me to just walk to my room like a sissy when I could easily just knock on his door?"

"I just think there are better ways you can go about this. It'll just cause a disruption."

Your eyes bulged at that, jaw dropping. "And his weird sex noises won't?!"

Jinyoung paused, glancing at the door and you both listened again.

"See," he said. "He's done now. It's fine. Just go to sleep."

You tongued your cheek. "You have to live with him too, you know?"

"I know," he replied, solemnly. "Now... go to sleep, Cantaloupe."

And then you two parted ways to your separate rooms.

It was a week after that. Since it was summer, you basically just lounged around the house doing nothing but eating your weight in potato chips. You did have a part-time job but just not during the weekends, which coincidentally was when Jinyoung actually came home for an entire hour for his lunch break.

You didn't know why he didn't just eat out in the city but you weren't about to question it.

He always cleaned up after himself, picking up other people's messes. You hated that part of him because people should clean up their own messes. That's why the planet was doomed—because no one wants to clean up after themselves or leave it how they found it. Although he kept to himself, he was the glue that held you all together.

Walking into the kitchen, you saw him with his sleeves rolled up and holding a sponge, doing the dishes. Opening the wooden cabinets, you pulled out a box of mac and cheese, then looked for your pot to start boiling the water.

"Hey, Jinyoung," you began. "Have you seen my pot? I usually put it up here."

Your eyes fell onto the pot sitting at the oven at the same time—the dirty pot.

"You're fucking kidding me," you grumbled, stomping over to it.

Someone had decided to use your pot and then not clean up after themselves. And who the fuck heats up spaghettios in a fucking pan anyway? Why not just put it in a bowl and into the microwave? That's easier.

"The same person who left their dirty dishes in the sink," Jinyoung said after a moment.

For the first time, you looked closer at whose dishes Jinyoung was scrubbing at.

"Jinyoung, don't you have to eat still? Aren't you on your lunch break?"

"Yes, but I can't make anything with a dirty sink," he answered.

You sighed. "I can't stand him. Here... I'll help you."

Gently, you nudged his hip with yours, jostling him out of the way. He chuckled to himself, shaking his head, then grabbed one of the towels hanging on a nearby hook to wipe his hands as he observed you cleaning the dishes.

"God... I just can't believe him. He really doesn't care about anyone but himself."

"I'm sure he just... forgot..." Jinyoung mumbled, placing his hands on the edge of the sink.

"No. He did it on purpose, same with using my pan..." you grumbled.

Jinyoung then moved to grab your pot, turning the faucet on as you scrubbed at a large plate caked in pasta sauce, and went to soak it. As he went to work, you observed his side profile. He sure was handsome and you remembered how you wanted to ask him if he was single the moment you met.

A handsome guy like him had to have a girlfriend or something.

"What?" he asked, pausing mid-scrub when he caught you.

"Nothing," you quickly replied, turning back to the sink.

"No," he said, putting the pot in the isnk. "What is it?"

You shook your head. "It's nothing... You're just..."

Staring off into space, you looked back at him with a smile.

"You're just really handsome is all. I hope you know that."

Looking away from you, he blushed. "Thanks."

Stumbling, he reached forward and accidentally switched the faucet onto the setting where it sprayed water in tiny streams instead and then disconnected it from the sink. It landed upside down and caused water to completely soak both your shirts. You let out a shriek as you stepped back, the plate falling into the sink then.

"I'm so sorry!" he exclaimed and you looked at him in surprise, then down at your shirt.

You could see through it entirely, showing off your bra and your piercing nipples.

And then he handed you the towel beside the sink to cover yourself.

"They're just boobies, Jinyoung," you teased but he didn't turn around.

Snorting, you tossed the towel onto the counter and left the kitchen. Glancing back at him one more time as you gripped onto the staircase railing, you observed him scrubbing furiously at your pot with tinted cheeks.

A few days after that incident, you came storming out of your room to your neighbor having sex once again.

The annoying, not hot one. It wasn't Jinyoung having sex.

"Jinyoung?" you called, knocking on his door.

Your neighbor was playing music to cover up whatever he was doing, but you could still fucking hear him. How could he be so oblivious to how loud he was? Did he just fuck girls who really knew how to use their mouths?

Maybe you should ask for their phone numbers.

"Come in," he yelled over the music.

Stomping in, you slammed the door behind you. Although you'd been in his room a few times, it was always rearranged a different way each time. You did notice that Jinyoung was an extreme perfectionist.

"You hear that, right?" you asked, crossing your arms.

"Yeah. And I'm trying to study, too..." Jinyoung grumbled.

"I can't believe him. What if I was trying to sleep?"

You paced around his room, letting out an occasional growl as the song ended and there was an awkward pause. Jinyoung's head came up just as there was a loud crashing sound and moan from the other side of the wall.

Jinyoung snorted. "You? Sleeping before two in the morning?"

"Okay. Fine... Maybe I wasn't but still—"

"You can stay here, if you want."

"Really? I won't bother you?"

"No. I'm done anyway."

Jinyoung leant back into his desk chair, closing his book with a gentle slam before standing up to put it away on his large bookshelf. After a moment, he walked over to his bed and settled against it, still in his work clothes. The TV had still been playing even when you walked in, so you guessed he'd been trying to mask the music and sex.

You followed him to his bed, sitting beside him gingerly.

"So—" you started to say when a sex scene came on.

The two actors on the screen immediately began undressing and you hesitantly looked over at Jinyoung, who was trying to decide whether to act natural or look away—because what do you even do in that situation? A sex scene makes things awkward no matter what. You could pretend all you wanted that it wasn't awkward—but it was.

"S-So... What were you studying for?"

"My accounting exam," he replied.

"Really? You have to study for that?"

There were now both sex noises from the TV and the room next door. From the corner of your eye, you saw Jinyoung fidgeting, scratching at his chin nervously as he avoided looking straight at the television screen.

You grabbed the remote then, turning the volume to drown out the noises from your neighbor.

As you could still hear him, however, you stomped towards the door to tell him to shut up.

Jinyoung followed after you, grabbing a hold of your elbow out of nowhere, but that just caused you to trip on one of his shoes—and where did that even come from because his room was spotless—and the two of you came crashing down on his hardwood floor with Jinyoung under you. He stared at you with wide eyes then.

The front of your pants was pressed especially hard against him and you felt something.

"Jinyoung..." you breathed out.

He blinked, then asked, "Yes?"

"I have this crazy idea."

Jinyoung didn't have much time to think before your lips came crashing down on his.

His lips were so soft, like kissing a cloud from how moist they were, but he was still beneath your crushing mouth. His arms laid unmoving at his sides, not even moving to touch you with the tip of his finger. And after you unconsciously began to swirl your hips and grind into him powerfully, he groaned into your mouth.

"Touch me," you said, pulling away briefly to give him time to speak.

Instead of saying anything, he just stared at you in muted surprise.

"Touch me, Jinyoung," you said again, grabbing at his limp hands.

You brought them to touch your covered breasts but he didn't move an inch, didn't even glance down at your breasts on full display—just kept looking at you and occasionally down at your lips as you exhaled shakily.

When his palm gave a slight, hesitant squeeze, you knew you had him.

You threw yourself back into him, kissing him as hard as you could to elicit any sort of reaction out of him, and he finally responded. Starting with returning it, he eventually licked at your lips and his hands drifted away from your breasts to grab your hips, then finally wrapping around your waist to crush you more into his hard, defined chest.

The voices from the actors on screen as they had a passionate get-together with their genitals faded into the background, as well as the sounds coming from the opposite side of the wall. Right then, it was just you and Jinyoung as you kissed and touched each other so intimately you felt your hairs sticking up. He was always out of your reach—so far away—either physically or emotionally. You thought he was unavailable, three years older than you and in grad school already while you were still taking gen ed classes. That's what you thought, but as he licked the seam of your lips and thrusted his tongue inside your mouth, he felt touchable for the first time—reachable.

His hands trailed back to your waist before flipping the two of you over until you flat on your back. Even with the sex scene on the television screen long over as new actors took up their own screentime, you didn't tell him to stop—not even when you heard nothing from the adjacent bedroom, too. It was that familiar white noise.

But you didn't like to sound of nothing as Jinyoung stared down at you, hesitantly.

You wanted to hear something. You wanted to hear anything—and from him.

You weaved your fingers into his black hair, pulling him down until your lips connected once again, which coaxed him to relax and touch you again. His hips moved against yours as you ground into each other—sensually. When his hardening length brushed against one specific spot, you moaned out loudly, and he pulled away from you.

"Don't stop," you told him desperately, fingers still clinging on to his hair.

When he didn't budge, you sat up slowly, furrowing your eyebrows. He moved away from you to give you room, as if you were about to tell him you changed your mind, but then you pushed him with the tips of your fingers so he was on his back. He didn't make a move to sit up and you took that as a sign to work on undoing his belt's buckle.

He didn't even try to stop you as you pulled at his work pants, just watched you with half-lidded eyes.

"Is this okay?" you asked, glancing down at his cock through his briefs.

"Yeah..." he answered, swallowing thickly.

Getting his consent, you watched him carefully but reached into his underwear for his cock, surprised at the size as you blinked in a daze. Just as he was looking like he was about to change his mind, you leant over him and your mouth sank down on him. Immediately, he felt how warm your mouth was and you didn't take your eyes off him—not even for one second. Your tongue swirled around him, licking at every inch of him you could. He didn't entirely fit in your mouth, so whatever didn't fit you just stroked with your balled up fist. His head fell back against the floor with a thud as he groaned out loudly. His eyes snapped open at that, looking at his bedroom wall.

"W-Wait—" he started to say, but you didn't stop.

Instead, your grip on him tightened as you went even faster, pulling him farther into your mouth until you felt the tip hit the back of your throat, pausing for a moment and wincing at the unpleasant feeling as you swallowed around him. His hands didn't know where to go, from laying at his sides to pulling at his tailored suit.

You didn't really know why he wore his work clothes for so long, even after he came home.

"Fuck..." he grunted, one of his hands cupping the back of your head.

You'd never heard him curse before and you could feel yourself getting wet just at the sound of it, and then began to bob on his dick even faster, your eyes watering slightly. Jinyoung started to unconsciously thrust into your mouth then, his hips raising off the floor each time, and you welcomed it, trying to take all of him.

"Shit!" he cried out as you swallowed around him again.

Pulling him completely out of your mouth, you used your tongue to lick at the slit, running a wet strip from the base of his cock all the way to the underside of his tip, leaving a stream of saliva behind. He observed you with half-lidded eyes before his head fell back again, not being able to take the sight of you looking at him like that.

"Shit... You're so good at this... Fuck... I'm going to cum."

You pulled your mouth away and just sat on your heels, watching him come undone just from you stroking him in a blurred movement of your fist. However, before he even came, he frantically told you to stop.

"Jinyoung..." you started to say, slowing your pace slightly.

"No, I mean it... I don't want..." he trailed off. "I don't want him to hear me."

"He wants us to hear him, though. And plus, you sound so hot anyway..."

"Fuck..." he said at your words. "I'm— Fu—ck. I'm—"

"Cum in my mouth."

You descended your mouth back on him as you continued to stroke him frantically. He didn't seem to hear you—or at least didn't respond—but spurts of his cum came firing into your mouth until he was laying there like a worm.

His head thudded against the floor after, smiling slightly to himself, but then remembered you.

"No, it's okay," you said, knowing what he was thinking. "I think he's done now, so thanks."

"Wait— What about you—"

"You just owe me one."

And then you left.

"Hey."

You looked to the open doorway of your bedroom to see it was Jinyoung. Still in his work clothes, you laughed to yourself. He wore that suit so often that you thought it was just another layer of his skin.

Good thing he looked hot in a suit.

"Hey," you replied, putting down your book beside you on the bed.

You sat up as he looked around your bedroom, admiring some of the paintings you had hanging on the wall and your calendar beside the door that had a different cat for each month, the dates decorated with cat ears.

"Can I join you?" he asked after a moment, closing the door behind him.

"Sure," you said, sitting up. "What's up?"

"Well..." By the color of crimson his ears turned, you knew it had to be about what happened the other day on his bedroom floor—the whole his dick in your mouth thing. "I just— I felt bad about— You know... So, I— Uh..."

"You want to pay me back?"

"Yeah. Is that okay?"

You bit your lip and nodded.

Kicking his shoes off by your door, he walked over to your bed. It creaked beneath his weight as he sat down and then he turned to you, just staring at you for a moment before he went to loosen his tie around his neck.

"Did you just get back from work?" you asked, watching him undress.

Jinyoung nodded. "Yeah. Five minutes ago."

"So... were you thinking about this all day?"

"It might've crossed my mind once or twice."

Your head fell back as you laughed. "That's hot."

His knees pressed them into the mattress when he started to move towards you, his tie long forgotten in a heap on your rug. Watching him carefully, you lowered yourself onto your back until he was hovering over you.

"Is our favorite neighbor here?" he asked lowly, his lips inches from yours.

"I don't think so. It's quiet, so that's how I know he's gone."

"Good. That means you can be as loud as you want."

"Ooh, spicy..." you said, waggling your eyebrows.

"Take off your pants," he instructed.

"Why can't you do it for me?"

"I'm about to do a lot for you."

Raising an eyebrow, you did as he said and pulled at your denim shorts. He couldn't wait, though, and helped you tug them the rest of the way down your legs as you raised your hips, flinging them somewhere behind him.

Next was your underwear but surprisingly, when you went to remove them, he stopped you.

"Not yet."

His mouth came crashing down on yours, smothering your lips with his own. At first, the kiss was fast and messy, your tongues colliding together in a frenzy, but then he was pulling away from you to leave a trail of kisses from the corner of your lips, to your jaw, to your neck, before finally landing on your chest from your low-cut shirt.

Your hands came to crush his mouth to your chest when he just looked at the soft fabric of your shirt, leaving wet spots where he bit and nipped over your covered nipples. You cried out then, arching your back into his mouth.

He raised an eyebrow and took you rubbing your legs together as a sign for him to take it farther.

Crawling down your body, he stopped until his head was between your legs, kissing at your inner thighs and biting and sucking at the skin there until you were marked in blotches of purple and red. One of his fingers played with the band of your underwear, snapping it against your skin teasingly, and you exhaled shakily.

"I didn't know you were such a tease..." you said, smiling with your eyes closed.

"It's no fun when you get your way, though."

And then he fingered at your underwear again, lifting it up and pushing it to the side so he could cup you. Just from the pads of his fingers touching you there, he could feel how wet you were—and all because of him.

"You're making this too easy."

His middle finger slowly eased into your entrance, stroking at your walls gently as he pumped in and out of you. His thumb then came to press down on your clit and you moaned out, a scalding sensation shooting straight into your lower stomach. He took that as another good sign and then inserted his forefinger into you, his fingers thrusting in and out of you at a faster pace with each drawn out moan and each wiggle of your hips. Eventually, he had to use the hand pulling your underwear back to still your hips and the soaked fabric came to rest on the back of his hand.

Unconsciously, you moved away from him and so he pulled his fingers out of you. You opened your eyes then, looking up at him as he sucked each finger into his mouth, licking off your wetness. Feeling faint, you sighed to yourself, wiggling your hips again and clenching your walls around nothing in anticipation. It was nice to be fingered and it was even better to cum, but you wanted to cum on his dick—you wanted to cum on it now.

"Jinyoung," you breathed out. "I want you."

"You can't have me," he answered. "Not yet."

"Well, why the fuck not?!" you yelled, sitting up on your elbows.

He couldn't answer because then the two of you heard loud, thunderous footsteps up the stairs and the bedroom door next to yours slamming shut. You listened and signed internally as you heard a female voice giggling and then a gruff male one, the bed creaking as you assumed they were both lying in his bed now.

"Great..." you mumbled to yourself, bending over your bed to look for your pants.

"No," Jinyoung said. "It's okay. I want to keep going. Is that okay?"

You looked back at him and nodded, surprised.

This wasn't like him at all. Jinyoung had never once brought a girl over—never. You knew he had sex but he never had sex here, and that was because he was so self-conscious. So, it was very surprising he wanted to keep going.

He pulled your underwear completely off that time, following your pants and landing somewhere behind him.

Jinyoung didn't waste any time and immediately ducked his head and flicked at your clit with his tongue, causing you to cry out. The giggling stopped in the other room and you placed a hand over your mouth, looking at him.

Time stood still as you two waited for them to resume and they did—after a painfully long sixty seconds.

"Be quiet," he whispered and then went back to pressing kisses to your clit.

He inserted his finger again, using his thumbs to separate your folds and you clenched your hand into a fist against your mouth, breathing heavily. Instead of how he was taking his time before, he was rushing things.

"Jinyoung," you said. "It's okay. I'll be quiet. Just slow down."

He nodded, pulling his fingers out of you.

Then replaced them with his mouth.

"Fuck..." you said, softly.

"Feel good?" he whispered back.

You nodded, head falling back and hand slamming against your mouth as he thrusted his tongue inside of you. His nose brushed against your clit and you breathed out of your nose slowly, trying to contain yourself. Then one of his hands pulled away and his thumb came against your clit again, circling it wildly when he lowered his head to bring his nose away. Your juices coated his chin as he started to wildly lick and kiss at your inner walls, then brought his mouth away to watch you, inserting his fingers again. His knuckles brushed against you as he went deeper and deeper before he felt around for that special spot—then found it easily, smiling to himself at your reaction.

Red hot in the face, sweat lining your brow, gasping for air—you were a mess for him.

You could barely contain yourself then and you reached behind you for your pillow, smothering your face.

"Jinyoung!" you screamed through the pillow but he kept going. "Oh, god... Oh, god. I'm going to— I'm—"

The two of you hadn't even noticed the talking stopped again before you moaned into the pillow loudly, hips rising as you came roughly around his fingers. He helped you ride out your orgasm, slowing his pace but not stopping.

Your hips came down to rest on the mattress again and you sighed—you were laying there like a worm now.

"How was that?" he asked, pleased with himself.

"Good god... So good... Wow. You're so good with—"

He chuckled. "Thanks. I owed you one, though."

You smiled up at him, then pushed yourself up to sit beside him, nudging your shoulder with his as you smiled to yourself. If this was him paying you back for sucking his dick, you wondered how he fucked with that dick.

"But that doesn't mean I don't owe you one."

"No, no, no. You don't owe me anything."

"Maybe not. But I still want you to fuck me."

Jinyoung looked at the wall behind you then, shaking his head. Pouting, you nodded, understanding that maybe all this was just him returning the favor, not meaning he was interested in you like that at all.

"We can't..." he whispered.

"It's okay, but why not?"

"We can't right now. Later."

"Okay, but I hope you really mean later."

He nodded. "Later. Really, really later."

And then he walked out of your room.

After Jinyoung left, your neighbor took that as a sign to fuck his girlfriend.

How nice for the both of them. For her to have a penis in her, not that you could relate.

It'd been at least seven hours now and you didn't even know if Jinyoung was still in the house. He walked on light feet, so you never heard him walking around, so he could've easily left to go somewhere. Maybe he left to fuck someone else since you were pretty sure he got a massive boner. And yet, he didn't want to fuck you.

Later, he said.

When was that? Maybe you should've discussed that properly so you would know when that even was.

Angry and sex-deprived, you stomped out of your room after hearing the annoying sound of your neighbor snoring after a long, torturous hour and a half, and into the kitchen. A glass of cold water would calm down your temper, so you reached into the cabinet to grab one of your glasses, reaching into the freezer for some ice cubes. You struggled to even get the cubes out of the tray, however, and contemplated slamming it on the countertop.

A touch on your shoulder, though, startled you and you accidentally slammed the tray on the countertop anyway.

"It's okay!" they said, the warm voice familiar. "It's me. It's Jinyoung."

Closing your eyes in relief, you placed a hand over your beating heart and then turned around to look at him.

"And where have you been?" you asked, teasingly, with an eyebrow raised.

Though, you also really wanted to know the answer to that, too.

"My room. Why did it take you seven hours to leave?"

"What? Were you waiting for me or something?"

He nodded. "Yeah. I didn't want to... in your room."

Your mouth fell open as you felt like a fucking idiot.

It was kind of obvious, now that you thought about it.

"Sorry... I didn't— Well, I'm here now, so do your worst."

One corner of his lips tilted up at that, and then he looked around the kitchen. When his eyes fell on the dining room table, he grinned and tugged your hand to follow him. You set your glass down on the counter, already feeling that familiar excitement bubble inside of you at the thought of what he was going to do to you.

If his fingers made you feel that good, you couldn't even imagine what his dick would feel like.

"Lay on the table."

You hopped up on the table just as he asked, then laid down, already reaching for your pants, but he slapped your hand away. Cradling your hands to your chest, you snorted at the impatient look on his face.

"I didn't say to take off your clothes," he teased, tugging at the band.

"Okay but... What's so different about here? They'll still probably hear us."

"You're probably right. It's a good thing I don't care. Do you?"

Then why didn't you just come back? you asked no one in particular.

Oh, well.

"Hell no. Fuck me, Jinyoung."

"I will. Just be patient."

You growled out, frustrated.

"Come on. You don't need to finger me when you just did that seven hours ago—"

"I know but I want to," he said, then pulled at the band of your pants again.

From over the top of his head, you carefully watched the staircase, listening for any sounds that weren't muffled snores from your neighbor's bedroom. If he came downstairs, he'd have a good view of your pussy.

"He's not going to come down here. Relax."

Just as his finger entered you, you said, "Wait. Can I try something first?"

He nodded, pulling away from you and you sat up, hopping off the table. Kneeling before him, you unbuttoned his pants quickly—and struggled for a moment—and pulled him out of his underwear, licking your lips nervously.

"I want you to fuck my mouth," you told him.

"What?" he asked, surprised. "Really?"

"Yeah."

"All right."

You gripped him at the base and slowly wrapped your lips around him, then relaxed your mouth as you closed your eyes. Biting into his lip, Jinyoung anxiously gripped the back of your head to get a good hold on you and weaved his fingers into your hair. You seemed to like that, though, when you moaned around his length.

And when you nodded, he took that as the signal and thrusted into your mouth.

Your eyes watered as he fucked your mouth, wincing but loving every second. When his fingers tugged at your hair, nearly pulling the strands right out of their roots, you moaned around him again and he groaned at that.

You swallowed around him, eliciting him to go faster, fuck your throat harder—and he did. His hips moved back and forth wildly as he frantically rammed his cock into you. With each thrust, you had to keep yourself still and relax your throat, feeling it becoming sore but it was worth it. Your hands felt his thighs, nails digging into the soft fabric of his work pants that he never took off for some reason—when suddenly he pulled out of you.

"If you keep doing that, I'm going to cum," he explained, gasping for air. "Your turn."

You nodded and laid back down on the table. It was as if him nearly reaching his orgasm made him even more impatient and he tugged at your underwear so roughly that the material stretched, but you didn't yell at him.

In fact, you found the whole thing incredibly hot.

He fell to his knees and immediately started an intense pace with his fingers inside of you, easing in and out at a frantic speed while he tried to stretch you out as much as possible. Your toes curled at the sensation and he watched you carefully, smiling as your eyes closed and mouth dropped open. If possible, his fingers thrusted into you even faster, so fast that you could almost imagine they were his dick—except you hoped his dick was bigger.

"Please," you begged, grabbing onto his arm. "Fuck me."

His pace slowed down but he didn't pull out of you, until he pressed down on your clit and your back arched.

"Please! Fuck—please," you cried out.

He nodded quickly, stepping away from you to step out of his pants and completely remove his briefs.

Your eyes fell to him naked from the waist down and you almost drooled, but then he was pulling at your hips so you stood on your feet, then spun you around until your cheek came crashing down on the wooden table.

"Ready?" he asked.

"Ye—s."

You were jostled forward as soon as he took that first step—his cock pressing into you so deeply that you couldn't help but groan, your nails clawing into the table. His warm hands held your hips and you knew you wanted nothing more than for him to slap your ass. That's what would get you off. Nothing was hotter than him manhandling you.

"Jinyoung," you gasped out as he kept up a fast pace. "Spank me."

"Spank you? You're into that?"

You nodded into the table.

Hesitating slightly, he did as you asked and brought his hand to slap your ass softly and you moaned softly. He blinked, stopping his thrusts inside of you to do it again—but harder. You clenched your fists as his hand came down on you even harder, feeling the sting that time. Your walls clenched around him then and he groaned.

"You really like this?" he asked.

"Yeah. Just like that."

He paused, then looked around the room for a moment.

You were pulled up abruptly then, your eyes snapping open, as he pulled you over to the living room couch before sitting down, tugging at your hand so you were sitting in his lap but not crushing his dick coated in your wetness.

"Ride me," he told you.

You didn't need to be told twice and slowly gripped him from under you, easing him into you slowly. Both of you moaned out at that and his hand slapped your ass again, slapping you harder each time you pulled yourself up.

"Keep going," he said, massaging your skin.

You nodded and bounced up and down on him even faster, seeking that familiar sting and the feeling of him penetrating you. His head fell against the back of the couch then, moaning loudly as you continued to ride him. Blindly, his free hand reached for you and then the pad of his thumb pressed into your clit, causing you to cry out and ride him even faster—harder—swirling your hips and clenching around him as you chased after your orgasm.

He pulled away from your clit and brought both of his hands to your ass, pulling and grabbing at the flesh there and kneading his knuckles into it. One hand came down on your ass again as the slap sounded around the living room and you clenched around him again, your vision blurring as all you could feel was that spark ignite in you.

On the edge, his hands trailed past your ass until they were gripping the small of your back and flipped you over onto your stomach. Raising your ass in the air, he thrusted into you again and pressed down on the back of your head, your cheek pressing into the couch cushion as he rammed into you.

"J-Jinyoung! Fuck, fuck, fuck!" you cried out, fists clenching.

He reached around you then and squeezed your breasts. With each thrust, they swung forward and he squeezed even harder. You rested your head against the back of your arms, trying to hold on but knowing you were so close to cumming. His dick stroked every inch of you and you knew you were going to be sore after.

"I'm gonna—"

"Cum."

He felt you clench around him one more time as you came, arching your back and then falling limply onto the couch. Jinyoung powered through it, however, and managed to thrust a few more times before he came himself, feeling you cringe from the oversensitivity.

His head fell back against the opposite arm of the couch then, chuckling, while you laid on the other side.

"So, that happened," he said after a long moment of silence.

"Yeah. Can it happen again?" you asked with a smirk.

And then you laughed all the way back upstairs.

Jinyoung was eating breakfast the next morning and you decided to clean up after your dirty neighbor so that when Jinyoung came home for his lunch break, he could spend that time eating rather than cleaning up after him.

Speak of the devil and he shall appear, though.

Your neighbor came stumbling down the stairs in his pajamas, greeting you two as he came into the kitchen.

"Hey, guys," he said, then seemed to hesitate. "Were you guys— last night— Can you keep it down next time?"

Jinyoung's cheeks heated at that, almost burying his head in his bowl of cereal shamefully while you just snorted.

He'd acted all confident last night but it sounded just like him to be embarrassed immediately after.

"Sure," you lied. "Sorry about all the noise."

"Thanks," he said and then grabbed a banana from the fruit bowl.

You looked back at Jinyoung and laughed as he refused to make eye contact with you, his cheeks almost the same color as the last apple in the bowl. Embarrassment wasn't something you felt often, so you were more proud.

You and Jinyoung had become the noisy neighbors now.

#jinyoung smut #got7 smut #got7 scenarios #got7 imagines #jinyoung scenarios #jinyoung imagines #jinyoung x reader #got7 x reader #jinyoung x you #got7 x you

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wyttolff · 7 years ago

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Drive-In Saturday

Hi guys! Thank you so much for 700 followers, so I’ve been working on a little fanfic for you all. I hope you enjoy, there will be more to come! Sorry it’s so long. Ship: Stenbrough (mention of Reddie) Word Count: 3004

Stan loved his new job. He had figured a 16 year old boy ought to have a job and stop relying on his parents for everything, so in the late summer, right before starting his junior year, he applied to the old record shop downtown, Archie’s All Time Hits. To Stan’s surprise he was accepted after only a few days since applying and was eager to start. He’d been working a little over a month now and was still just as happy to be there as he was the first day he started. He loved being surrounded by the poster covered walls, with rows of stands filled with any music one’s heart desired. He loved the perfect stream of sunlight that shone through the glass windows across the bins of vinyls each day just before 5 o'clock. He loved the kind people that visited each day and how amazing it felt when someone asked him for advice on what to listen to. He could talk for hours on his favorite albums and recommend the most perfect music for anyone he met. Archie loved having Stan around because he had finally found a young soul that liked and appreciated the music just as much as him. He quickly took Stan under his wing and Stan grew to enjoy music more than he had already thought. One warm October Saturday afternoon, Stan rode his bike to work as he often did. The leaves crunched beneath the wheels as the wind rustled through his soft brown curls. Six Different Ways by The Cure played from his mixtape through the headphones of his Walkman that was clipped onto his jeans. The song reminded him of the Losers. He missed them a lot. With the amount of time he had been working lately, he couldn’t spend as much time as he wanted to with his best friends. He still spent the free time he had with them but often it was difficult to juggle all of his responsibilities and seeing his friends. Bill was the only one that Stan saw much more often than the others. Stan often rode to his house after work to do homework or even just see him. Good Old Fashioned Lover Boy played as Stanley arrived at the record shop, thinking of Bill as he parked his bike. Stan slid the headphones down off his ears as he walked through the door. “Hey Archie,” he said as he headed towards the back room to put his backpack down. Archie nodded his way while looking up from a bin he was reorganizing. He walked back to the front just as a customer arrived which he gladly went to assist. Stan went about his usual responsibilities for the next few hours; helping customers, organizing bins, and bringing out the new vinyls to the front. The shop closed at 5 on Saturdays and Archie had already left, leaving Stan to finish out the day. The shop had been quiet most of the day with only a few customers coming in to browse. At around 4:30, the store finally received some customers. Stan was crouching on the ground organizing a bin of Beatles vinyls while humming Alphaville’s Forever Young that was playing from the record player in the back, when he heard the little bell above the door ring. “Good afternoon, i’ll be right with you,” Stan said finishing up the bin. “Stan the fucking man, what a place this is.” Stan whipped around to see Richie walk through the door with the remaining five losers following close behind. “Guys what are you doing here? I thought you were all going to the movies?” Stan said walking over to greet them. “We’ve been missing our favorite curly haired friend while he’s been working hard,” Bev said to which she received a taunting “Hey!” from Richie as he pointed to his mess of black curls atop his head. “You guys are the best,” Stan beams. All the losers disperse through the rows looking for vinyls for themselves. Bev heads towards a Stevie Nicks bin but is distracted when she notices a stray New Kids On The Block record that she teasingly calls Ben over to show and Mike follows to join in the jokes. Richie pulls Eddie’s hand towards the back bins full of bands such as The Cure, Joy Division, and Queen. “Richie! I wanna look at the people I like,” Eddie whines. “Eds, I love you and all but I can’t deal with anymore discussion on The Yo-Yos or Wo-Hos, or No-Nos or whatever their damn names are, I need some actual good music” Richie pleads, receiving a serious eye roll from Eddie. “Its the Go-Gos,” Eddie says annoyed. “And don’t call me that! I only wanted to look at The Smiths anyways,” he pouts. “Well shit, Eds, you know they’re my favorite,” Richie beams down at Eddie as he throws his arm around his shoulder, squeezing him tight, then dragging him along. Stan stands back, watching his friends enjoy themselves talking about the music he too is so passionate about. As he looks around he notices one loser off on their own, Bill. He stops a moment and just admires Bill. The way his hands glide over the cover of the records package, as his gleaming eyes follow over the old Elton John record he’d found. The ray of sun that Stan loved so much falling perfectly on Bills cheek, giving him an ethereal glow. As Bill went to brush the single strand of dark hair that had fallen over his eye, he looked up to meet the dark eyes of Stan watching him. A slight rush of heat filled Stans cheeks as he was caught, but he simply smiled at the boy and made his way over to him. “Elton John?” Stan asks as he approaches. “I-I was just l-looking,” Bill stammers with a small laugh and a gleam in his eyes that was familiar to Stanley. As Bill goes to set the vinyl back where it goes, he accidentally knocks a few onto the ground. “S-shit, im sorry.” “Don’t worry about it,” Stan says as they both reach down to pick up the fallen records. Reaching for one of the albums, his hand falls upon Bills as he reaches for the same one. They both look up to see the others eyes right in front of theirs. They stay there a moment before Stan breaks the stare and coughs a bit, letting go of the album. Both boys cheeks fill with a slight red as Bill stands up first. As Stan picks up the last of the vinyls and sets them back where they belong, he spots an Aladdin Sane album. His eyes light up as he quickly grabs it, it’s his favorite. He eyes the album in his hand a moment before turning to Bill. “Hey, uh, have you ever heard of David Bowie?” Stan mumbles. “H-have I heard of h-him? He’s m-my favorite,” Bill says as his eyes light up in a way similar to how Stans did when first eyeing the album. Stan smiles down at the album, the album he listened to when Bill popped into his head. The album he listened to when he was riding home from Bill’s house after an afternoon of movie watching. The album he listened to when he couldn’t sleep at night and needed happy thoughts. “Stan?” Bill asks, breaking him from his daydreams. “Oh, uh, sorry about that, I was just, thinking about, uh..” he stumbles. Stan has never blushed so many times in such a short amount of time. “T-these love songs make y-you t-think of someone, S-Stanley boy?” Bill teased while patting Stan’s shoulder. Stans blush deepened even more. If only Bill knew. Bill stood there smiling at Stan with that sparkling white smile that made Stan melt. “They make me think of Eddie’s mom, Billy Boy,” Richie interjects as him and Eddie walk by on their way to the next aisle. “Richie what the hell?” Stan yells after him as he watches the two boys run down another aisle, hand in hand. Eddie playfully hits Richies shoulder and rolls his eyes right before Richie leans down to kiss Eddie on the forehead and he instantly perks up again. God, did Stan want something like that. Richie and Eddie were so open with how much they loved each other, why couldn’t him and Bill be like that? But Stan knew why, Bill didn’t love him like that. At least he didn’t think he did. “I-I can’t stand him,” Bill laughs. “I don’t e-even r-remember what we were s-saying.” Thank God. Stan thought to himself. Richie may be an annoying asshole, but at least he just saved him from that awkward conversation. How could he tell Bill that he’s the one he thinks about when he listens to those dumb love songs. He quickly thought of how to reply without reminding Bill of his teasing question. “You were just about to tell me your favorite song from this album,” he said, gesturing towards the vinyl in hand. The approach was slightly flirty but subtle enough he hoped Bill wouldn’t think twice about it. Thankfully, he didn’t. “Oh y-yeah. I really l-like Drive-In Saturday, a-and The P-Prettiest Star,” he answered. “It’s s-so hard to pick a-a favorite t-though, I l-love everything B-Bowie sings.” “How did I never know this? We both love Bowie and somehow we never knew about it,” Stan joked. “I think I have an idea.” Stan grabbed Bill’s hand before he had a chance to even give a reply. He led Bill through the aisles of bins, stopping at one to grab a pile with his left hand, and continuing dragging him towards the back. Stan leads Bill into the small employees room in the back of the shop. There’s a small couch in the corner where Archie takes his midday naps, a coffee table by the window with a single chair, and a record player laying on the floor with Stan’s backpack dumped out and his records surrounding it. Stan’s Alphaville vinyl still sat under the needle- he hadn’t had time to flip it since he was distracted by his visitors. “I guess I could give you a Archies Insider experience,” Stan jokes as he sets the records down on the coffee table and then gestures towards the room with his now open hand. He hadn’t realized they were still holding hands but he wasn’t going to be the one to pull away. Bill continued to hold his hand as he looked around the small room then led Stan towards the record player on the ground. He let go of his hand as he bent down. “Are t-these all y-yours?” Bill asks, picking up the scattered albums and looking over each carefully. “Uh, yeah,” he replied. Bill continues to take all the vinyls in. He picks the needle up off of the now still Alphaville record and puts it back to the beginning and listens to the first few notes of Forever Young as it restarts. He closes his eyes, taking in the tune, and when he reopens his eyes, he looks up at Stan and starts jokingly singing along. “Let’s dance in style, let’s dance for a while,” he starts. Stan bursts out laughing but can’t help and stare at the boy sitting on the ground making the cutest fool of himself. “Heaven can wait we’re only watching the skies” he continues as he stands up. Bill grabs Stans hands and begins swaying around him while continuing to belt the song. “Wow I can’t believe I get an exclusive private show from Alphaville themselves!” Stan teases. Bill stops his singing and plops on the couch. “A-are you s-surprised? Your b-best friend is s-secretly f-famous!” he jokes back. Bill was out of breath from his performance, singing and hopping around the room was hard work. While he caught his breath, Stan took the vinyl off the record player and dug through the pile he had brought in with him. He pulls out the Aladdin Sane album they talked about before, placed it on the deck, and lowered the needle onto the record. Drive-In Saturday began playing quietly through the players speakers. “M-My favorite,” Bill practically whispered. He was still slouched on the couch, closing his eyes once more, but this time he kept them closed. He hummed along to the tune as he swayed his head back and forth to the beat. Stan stared for a while, not on purpose, but because he couldn’t take his eyes off the peaceful boy. He’d never seen Bill so relaxed, and he seemed so into the music filling the room. Stan was still staring in awe when Bill opened his eyes. For a moment Stan thought Bill would be weirded out or confused, but he just smiled at Stan and motioned to the spot on the couch next to him. Stan rose from his spot on the ground where he was sitting and hesitantly made his way towards the couch. Bill sat up enough for him to sit next to him and curled his feet up towards himself. “So you r-really like w-working here don’t y-you?” Bill asked. “Of course. I love being able to work somewhere where it doesn’t feel like I’m actually working. I love being surrounded by all the music and I’ve learned so much from Archie, I’m so thankful,” Stan starts and he didn’t finish there. He kept rambling on about the new artists he had found, and the people he meets. He mentions the story about the old woman who came in a few days ago and talked for a whole hour with him. He talked about the young girl he helped find a present for her mothers birthday. And he talked about the young boy who came in and said he wanted to be just like him and gushed over the Walkman clipped to Stans jeans. Bill just sat and listened. He loved listening to Stan talk and watching his dark eyes twinkle with excitement while his soft brown curls bopped up and down with each slight movement. He was put into a place of peace as he watched Stan talk about something he was so passionate about. The soft melodies of David Bowie still played in the back, adding to Bills sense of happiness. “I just talked about myself for way too long,” Stan finally laughed. “I didn’t even notice how long it was until that vinyl went quiet. I’m so sorry.” “N-No, t-that’s okay, I l-like just l-listening,” Bill replied. Stan got up to flip the record but as he walked over, he noticed the clock on the wall. “Oh my God. It’s almost 6 o’clock. The shop closes at 5, where’s everyone else,” Stan rushes through the curtain separating the back room from the main store with Bill following closely behind. They enter the shop and notice everyone was gone. “Well that’s weird, they’re gone and didn’t even mind to tell us” “Do you n-need help c-closing up?” Bill asked as he walked to the front of the counter where Stan went behind the counter to lock the register. “Wait S-Stan, look w-what I f-found.” “What is it?” he asked, looking up from the register. “To Stan the Man and B-Billy Boy,” he began, reading from the piece of paper that had been laying on the counter. “Bills singing w-was so bad we had to l-leave immediately because E-Eddies ears began to b-bleed. Signed Trashmouth and the L-Losers” “What the hell, he’s a little ass,” Stan laughed as he grabbed the paper from Bills hands. He flipped over the sheet of paper and noticed more scribbled on the back. “Richies a dick, you two have fun, we went to see that movie. Don’t have too much fun though, who knows whats happening back behind the curtain. Signed Bev with a half-assed winky face next to it?” “They’re s-so w-weird,” Bill laughed. “I don’t k-know what they’re e-expecting us t-to do.” “Yeah, what the hell, maybe we can catch that movie though?” Stan said. “Only i-if we h-have a bike r-race on the w-way there,” he jokes back. Stan runs to the back to grab his bag and locks the door of the shop on the way out. Both boys rush to their bikes and start pedaling towards the Aladdin in the center of the town. “I don’t know how you expect to win this race on that grandma bike,” Stan yelled to Bill as he sped past him on one of the turns. Bill started speeding up and caught up to Stan just in time. The boys jokingly trash talked each other as they sped through the streets of Derry. “See I told you she couldn’t win,” Stan yelled back as the Aladdin came into view. Bill sped up right as he said and finished before him. “Or maybe she can win…How do you always do that?” “Gotta put some f-faith in good ol S-Silver,” Bill chuckled. The boys both hopped off their bikes and walked towards the front of the Aladdin. “H-Hey S-Stan?” Bill said softly, looking down at the ground as he spoke. “Yeah Bill?” he answered? Bill kept his eyes down as if he was nervous of what he had to say. Stan stood there patiently, worried of what Bill might have to say to him. Was he mad? Did he know Stan liked him? Was their friendship ruined? Just as Stan was caught in worry, Bill looked up into Stan’s eyes and quickly leaned in and kissed Stan on the lips. “Uh-I-ya-um,” Stan stuttered, not knowing what to say. “Hey, I-I’m the one w-with the s-stutter h-here, I’m sorry I-” Stan cut him off as he leaned in for one more kiss. “Don’t be,” Stan said as he pulled away, grabbing his hand to lead him into the Aladdin where their friends awaited

#bill denbrough #stanley uris #stenbrough #the losers club #headcanon #reddie #olive writes

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laptrance · 5 years ago

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July 28, 2020

it’s been over two years since my last entry. so much has changed. to update March 8 2018 me:

you give up on job searching atm until 4/24/18. that’s when you start reaching out to all the promotion companies from kucr. planetary was the other promotion company you remembered besides terrorbird. cirstina was super nice and chill and said they just wrapped internships for the summer but to inquire again for the fall.

you wait those months while still working at mcdonalds. you get good at it and things are second nature to you. you still have moments where you storm out, but you get better at controlling your temper.

you check back in august and cristina says there are positions open in the fall. it was pretty easy as they accepted you right away. you do this bat shit crazy thing where you try to balance the two. planetary internship Tuesday Thursday Friday and McDonald’s the rest of the days. you even do opening shift during the weekends (4am-12pm).

you’re mostly quiet during your internship. you participate in riyl’s. you mainly talk to cristina while mailing. you don’t open up much until hayoung joins in november i think. mcdonalds is the same as usual, but your sleep schedule’s FUKED UP.

you hear in december that maria (who worked in publicity) is quitting. cristina encourages you to apply. you talk with adam and the interview tbh goes horribly. not like you didn’t have anything to say, but everything you said was wrong LOL. you also talk to george and ben and they lay out what press does but you dont catch any of that.

christmas office party happens and you drink a lot. you open up a lot to EVERYONE, iNCLUDING BEN about your love life (embarrassing) you’re obviously too drunk to drive home, but you stay over the night with nik and alison (goth bless their souls)

you check in with adam on the position occasionally until feb. 2019 when he breaks the bad news. the position’s filled. like how can you be surprised? but you’re still upset. you’re able to turn this as a positive to use your experiences to boost your resume.

you continue to work at mcdonalds and interview at places until you get a random email from adam exactly one year after you first emailed cristina about the internship. adam offers you the job. ofc you accept. you quit mcdonalds and start with planetary on may 1.

learning publicity is one hell of a learning curve. heck, you’re still learning how to do shit even now. but you’re thrown on the deep end with Luna. not your fault. not totally kristen’s fault. but that was a crazy client.

anyways, your sleep schedule’s still fucked up because of your commute. but at least you have free weekends now!

some highlights of 2019: you finally get a macbook! but you have a galaxy s9 as a phone lmfao. placements in The Line of Best Fit and Paste! you get absolutely entranced with warehouse raves. you literally go to at least once a month. falling in love with queen of jeans and linking up with their publicist Jamie Coletta (she’s super cool and the best at the game), going on two (2) dates with a really nice girl named sara. you got in your head and probably fucked that up. but it really wasn’t the time. christmas party 2019. same shenanigans but this time you don’t drink as much. you really look for places to move out to with ryan and he finds a house that angeli and linda live. two people are moving out and the rooms go for $500 and $600. you get the $500 room and are set to move in on Feb 16 2020. news of a disease called coronavirus is first detected in china. this will be important later.

oh 2020. what a shite year. if i told myself the things i’ll write down below i would not believe it. but here it is. everything that has happened so far in 2020:

first cases of coronavirus appear in washington on january. you’re not too concerned about it.

you’re working this country artist aminah hughes and land a placement in american songwriter for January 31 (1st time!). there are some issues and they post it one day later, but you weren’t as attentive as you should’ve been over the weekend.

adam talks to you about it the following monday (2/3) in a really calm matter but you beat yourself up over it. so much so that on your way home, you totally don’t notice a pedestrian crossing galloping hills and eucalyptus and run them over. everything feels like a blur, but you’re able to talk to the police, karen, and kimberly (state farm) about it. you take tuesday-thursday off.

you move in (night before you saw bored lord and octo octa until 3am wtf). you don’t have a car (for obvious reasons), but you’re able to commute to work via bus/subway (which you would’ve done anyway cause you love public transportation lol)

you’re able to return to normal life mostly until middle march. cases of the newly named COVID-19 have spread throughout the united states and you hear of workspaces transitioning over to work from home operations. planetary soon follows suit. our last day in the office is march 13.

literally the week after you start wfh animal crossing new horizons comes out. that keeps you busy for like two, three months tops. it’s also a nice way to keep in touch with friends.

your first therapy session happens on march 31. you’re able to talk about the accident, but it’s quickly directed to self-esteem. it’s an ongoing process, but you’re slowly advancing. it’s not linear, but it’s better than doing nothing.

Bandcamp establishes “Bandcamp Day”, 24 hour periods in which the site’s share of profits go directly to artists/labels. Started in April, will continue through the end of 2020. All the money I would normally spend on concerts goes here now. That and I fall to the hands of food delivery apps (door dash wins)

your campaign with Atta Boy gets going. first track premieres at Atwood Magazine (2nd time! [1st time was with sophia st. helen, another awesome client]). band’s super happy about it (even mr. josh brolin himself gave a shout out [bias ofc]). by the end of may you land their second single on THE MOTHERFUCKING FADER (1ST TIME OBVIOUSLY).

everything else is going surprisingly well for the most part (except for elp, but i don’t wanna talk about those fucking idiots) despite the ever-changing landscape of music journalism. huge blogs are letting people go while smaller sites are remaining mostly the same.

On May 25, George Floyd is murdered by Minneapolis police which sparks the biggest wave of activity in the Black Lives Matter movement since Michael Brown’s death in 2014. organizing/activism is still going on to this day (7/28).

For me personally, I’m making a conscious effort to highlight Black artists on my Bandcamp days and general sharing of music. I also joined a book club (6/18) and read “Are Prisons Obsolete” in its entirety. We’re currently reading a comic series called Bitch Planet. Deep and meaningful conversations.

the family hears news of Lola’s declining health. June 23rd (Manila time) is the day she passes away. We’re all able to say our last goodbyes via facebook video call. this is the first time i see my dad cry.

funeral takes place on june 27th. we’re able to partake in the ceremony via zoom. the first and only funeral i “attended” online (so far).

I start “fixing” myself physically. I went to physical therapy from 6/8-7/7. the exercises do wonders to my knees (ty dr. bailey!). also saw a dermatologist on 7/10. really quick appt. kinda felt rushed imo, but i was given a special sunscreen that works so far? also recommended otc meds like claritin.

ended campaign with atta boy. really sad to see them go. currently coordinating with their new managers on a possible podcast and press setup.

and that’s pretty much it! it’s a lot of shit, i know, but it happened all within 2 years. overall i’d say we were pretty successful in finding a big-girl job and MOVING OUT, WHICH I THOUGHT WOULD NEVER HAPPEN LMFAO. as for the shit you were hung up on with angelica, you’re so much better now, but you think about the good memories from time to time. sometimes it gets you down, but you’re thankful for the memories (come through fallout boy LMFAO AHAHA FALLOUT AMIRIGHT) and you learned from your mistakes. maybe it will be another two years before i leave another update, might be less, might be more.

but i’m extremely proud at how far i’ve come.

im proud of you, me.

#personal #do people still tag personal stuff as personal?#do people still read tags the way they do?#or is it just for clout chasing now. idk

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indieks · 8 years ago

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Not So Randomly | Part 1/5

🌟 Pairing : Im Changkyun (I.M) x Reader

🌟 Genre : Fluff, Angst

🌟 Word count : 6.3k

🌟 Synopsis : Whenever you cross the path of Im Changkyun, that guy you hate and that hates you, it seems to be the worst day of your life. But, strangely enough, it also becomes the best and most accurate of moments you've ever had. So, the more you randomly end up stucked with each other, the more a question can arise : is it really chance that has something against you, or is it serendipity that drives you one towards the other?

Next Part

🌟 A/N : I know, summer is over, and we all have to go back to school or to work… that’s why I decided to post these series that start right during summer school break and continue at the uni! I’m still not sure in how many parts I’m going to divide it, I’ll see along the way and update it soon!

After my first post for BTS’ Suga, I also wanted to show that I will write for other groups and other wonderful people such as… I.M hehehehe 😏

Anyway, above all, thank you for reading, hope you enjoy it! ♥

Disclaimer : any gifs or images used, even edited, are not mine and belong to their rightful owners!

***

Summer. One word that made the kids at school go crazy while waiting for the last bell to ring, the teenagers and young adults go to the gym to tone their bodies or look for a job to spare money for some wild travel, and the parents worried for their wallets because of their need to book something far away from home so that they'll forget their workaholic life. But for you, it was one word that oddly gave you chills in spite of the heat it brought on.

It hadn't always been like that, no ; that gloomy feeling you had came when you turned fifteen. The same year you blew that additional candle, your parents asked for your help at work during the sunny season instead of sending you on vacation. They were selling food products, your mom holding a grocery shop from Mondays to Fridays, before joining your father on the weekends who was vending them at the marketplaces in the capital and its whereabouts. And when July came, they closed the shop to go from market to market, morning after morning and night after night, with you accompanying them occasionally. But most of the time, as they worked hard without a real break, you used to enjoy your holidays by going to your friends' rents, or to your grandparents' little but cozy houses further from your home.

You used to love the different markets you went to. You used to love their various scents, their joyful sellers, and the cheap or luxurious stuff they were full of. You used to lose yourself in the alleys of those big places to taste everything, to admire each pearl incrusted in the jewelries, each drawing on kitchen supplies and decorations, each sewing on leather bags and fabrics, before going back to your parents at noon.

However, that was before your fifteenth summer, when you had to wake up at 4 or 5 in the morning to set up the equipment and organize the presentation of the food, then shout the whole morning to catch the attention of clients, sometimes pack up things without messing up – which had happened to you numerous times because of nervousness –, and do it all over again at nighttime. Nevertheless, you still did the job without complaining, not denying how much effort it implied and how legit it was for your parents to ask for an additional pair of hands. But you couldn't say you were waiting for the end of the first half of the year to come with as much impatience as other students anymore.

This eighteenth summer should be different though. Your parents had decided to extend their commerce to Busan, and to take you with them. Even if the reason you were here in the first place wasn't the sea and sunbathing, but the gigantic covered market where you were going to sell products for the season, you were satisfied with the idea of being close to wild water, already dreaming of spending your afternoons on the beach before getting back to work, just to have the feeling of holidays you haven't really had for three years. But what made you even more excited, was that it was probably the last time you were ever going to follow this scheme, as next year college life and a whole new independence was waiting for you, without a doubt implying a new summer schedule with friends, far away from your parents and your responsibilities as a daughter.

A sweet vacation house had waited for you during 9 long months, as well as the amount of work that now tired you just by thinking of it, but you felt at ease while you were unpacking in your bedroom facing the sea, the thud of waves inciting you to take a step back and focus on the goods of being here. But as the first week went by, your alarm almost making your ear-drums bleed every time it rang loudly in the early and still dark morning, your positive mind and attitude were now clearly missing.

And if you had thought that having your days completely out of sync with the rest of people and not being able to properly visit Busan was sufficient to ruin your mood, as your sleepy-self consumed its vacant afternoon in bed instead of outside on the sand like you had pictured or maybe making some friends, it was until you met Im Changkyun. Until the second week you had been there, when your parents sent you to help that old lady who needed more hands at her stand than them who were still handling their own with skill.

You were nervous on your first day behind a stand with a stranger, despite the granny was lovely and was doing everything to make you comfortable, but being in an unknown city, an unknown market and without the pillar that were your parents, made you feel uneasy even more. Your hands were trembling as you were placing the bins containing the ingredients she sold and used for cooking delicious fried meals, and her popularity wasn't helping ; there wasn't a time when you could take a rest, people coming and going like crazy even in the first hours of the opening.

It was almost the end of your service when he showed up, or more precisely, when you accidentally bumped into him and dumped some sauce from your tub on his white tank top. The shock made him drop the carton he was carrying, full of porcelain kitchenware, some of them escaping their prison to explode on the floor, making a loud sound that drawn the attention of all the customers around. You had been walking too fast, coming from the small van parked behind the market where the grandma had food supplies she had pressed you to bring as you were almost running out of it.

"Fffffuuuuuck", the boy suddenly said, his voice low and deep but without a doubt laced with anger.

You were ashamed and panicked, the broken pieces of white plates laughing at you as you started to pick them up, quiet sorrys slipping out of your mouth.

"Don't you watch where you go?" he asked you and you finally stood up to look at him straight in the eye.

You didn't have the chance to meet pretty boys since you had arrived in town, it was not like they would come to the market in the morning if it meant giving up their sleep time, nor at night as they probably preferred street or fast food to your parent's fresh vegetables and kimchi. Except for this boy, who was confronting you right now, but sadly in this kind of situation that was making your cheeks burn of embarrassment and your heart fighting with your ribcage. Indeed, he had really nice looks, with the bangs of his light brown hair falling on his brows and eyes, an oval face with sharp eyes that killed you the instant you dared to greet him a timid smile, a long nose that seemed to have been carved in stone, and small lips that could create a smirk which you'll soon crave to smack him for.

"I'm really really sorry, I was in a hurry and I didn't see you, how can I-"

"Save it, let's go to my mother, you owe her your excuses" he cut you, grabbing the box again and pushing you with his wide shoulder when he passed you, silently inviting – or more like ordering – you to follow him.

With hands even more shaking than a few moments ago, you took your box and went to the granny's stand to excuse yourself, her gentle smile and reassuring comments about the incident soothing you instantly, but when you turned around and saw him darting his eyes at you while waiting, your blood froze in your body as your footsteps guided you to him without asking. The more you walked, the more the path seemed familiar to you, and you gasped when he stopped in front of a woman you recognized immediately. She was the beautiful lady at the stand right next to your parents', selling products she was cooking live as well as… kitchenware she probably had painted on herself. Beautiful kitchenware you just broke. You felt a new amount of shame piling upon the heap that already had bubbled inside of you when you captured the curious gazes of your parents seeing you coming back to them before 1 pm.

"Hey mom, I'm sorry but that girl bumped into me earlier and broke some of your plates" the boy stated while presenting the box to the lady who stopped what she was doing to take it calmly.

"Y/N! What have you done?!" your mother exclaimed, feeling even sorrier than you as you were supposed to ensure them a good image at the market by helping the granny, not creating a mess on the eighth day of your fresh arrival.

"It's okay! I have plenty of those, it can happen! Changkyun-ah, I hope you weren't rude to her, were you?" the woman said while smiling at you, signaling you to come close to her and you just did, your head hung low. "You didn't hurt yourself? Are you ok?" she asked as she was examining your hands.

"I'm fine, thank you. I'm really sorry, can I do something-"

"It's nothing Y/N. I had plenty of accidents when I was your age, don't worry" she eased you, your hands still in her beautiful and delicate ones. "I saw how you work when you were helping your parents last week, you are really devoted so you must have been too concentrated and didn't see my son! Where did you tell me she was helping?"

"With Mrs. Ahn" your father answered and you straightened yourself to see her smile at you.

"Changkyun, I know how bored you are when you're with me so how about you help Mrs. Ahn too? I'm sure Y/N is overworked by herself, you could help instead of doing nothing at home."

"No no no that's okay really" you quickly interfered, feeling embarrassed as you heard his grunt of annoyance.

If you could avoid being a burden and making him angry at you for having ruined his summer in addition of his clothes, you were willing to work even harder to prove you didn't need his help.

"Mom, I have friends to meet and things to do, I'm on holidays! Why are you doing this to me seriously?" he protested and you finally looked over your shoulder to see him standing in a nonchalant pose, his hands deep in the pockets of his black jogging while the red stain of hot sauce on his top was drying and turning brown.

"I'm tired of you doing nothing, it's just for the mornings and sometimes at night, you'll have plenty of time to hang with your friends! I'm pretty sure there are heavy bins to carry or ingredients to cut and your hands will be of great help so stop nagging, you're 18 years-old now you should work a little!" she grumbled before smiling at you who were still frozen in your wish to disappear into the ground.

"At 18 years-old I… I should enjoy my life mom! Before working till I get old, you know? That's why I enjoy not doing anything for the time I have left!"

His dramatic tone almost made you chuckle but you couldn't allow yourself to, or else he would have murdered you the instant you'd been left alone without your parents to witness.

"Cut your nonsense son, or do you want me to tell your dad you're ok to work with him at the company till the end of holidays? And it's going to be a full-time job this time!"

Changkyun rolled his eyes back and sighed, finally giving up – not without mumbling a few bad words to himself in the process – and he gave you the exact look you feared he would have, the one that told you he would hate you for the rest of his life, the one that should have warned you that everything would only get worse after this first disastrous encounter.

***

The next morning, you were still fighting with the tiredness in your eyes as the anxiety of meeting Changkyun again had kept you up all night. You were debating with your inner self about whether you should excuse yourself one last time, or remain silent and leave him alone, but you still hadn't come up with an answer when he arrived around 7 am, a grey hoodie on as well as a pair of destroyed jeans. He was really attractive, even with his morning face and small bags under his eyes, even when he shot you his deadly look, even when he messed up his hair by putting his hand in it in frustration.

"Hello ma'am, I'm here to help, I'm the son of Mrs. Im" he said with his deep voice, even deeper as he woke up not too long ago.

He showed off his cocky demeanor as he didn't even greet you and made his way behind the big table you were occupied at preparing, placing nicely the cooked and marinated products.

"My mother and yours are sympathizing right now, but that doesn't mean we're going to be friends, or whatever", he suddenly said to your attention and you gave him a quick look to discover that his eyes weren't even bothering to acknowledge you. "They want me to spend some time with you, your mom said that you're bored the rest of the day and have no friends here, but let me be clear : I have other things to do than to carry a burden around during my free time, most of all a clumsy girl. You ruined my summer y'know that?"

His gaze from the day before should have warned you, but you still were slapped violently by the hands of shock when he spat these words with spitefulness. You did bump into him and create a regretful situation, but you did not grow his mom's idea into her head… Did you?

"I'm here to help the old lady so that my mother leaves me alone, I'm not here for you, don't make up any ideas, got it?" he added with a monotone voice and you looked up at him as he was finally landing his deep brown eyes on you, but without a glimpse of life in them.

"Don't worry, I don't need your help. Sorry if my mom has bothered you", you simply answered, quickly going back to what you were doing to hide the mix of anger and embarrassment that was burning your reddening cheeks.

You had hoped that he would not pay any attention to you, not that he would make you pay, but his saltiness and rudeness were more on point than what any human being could imagine : starting from his first day next to you, he didn't miss any chance to make his presence unbearable. He pointed every wrong move you made and grumbled every time he did, pretending to be an expert as he had accompanied his mother more than once to this marketplace ; he greeted cheerfully clients when he was serving them but never failed to play the poker face with you, while the old lady did not hear or see any of this electric situation, simply happy that two lovely teenagers had volunteered to help ; he let you do most of the work, playing stupid games on his phone or pretending to be unpacking and cutting the ingredients to cook but taking never-ending time in doing so. You weren't the type to hate on people but Changkyun had made himself odious, so much that even his looks couldn't save him anymore, as the only sight of him made you angry. Quickly, your guilt disappeared in limbo like your positive mind had done a week ago, as you came to wish you had dumped every single bit of the sauce right on his head.

Like that, your relationship – if you could name the poor exchanges you had a relationship – became him nagging you and you nagging him, your discussions restricted by the vocabulary of disrespect and sarcasm, even if you still played the role of good kids once you returned to your mothers, pretending to leave to spend some good time together at the beach although you parted ways after plotting the story you would both tell your parents to be credible. If you were being honest, you enjoyed being alone and his company wasn't necessary to make you happy. He was just your perfect excuse to escape being with your parents during all your free time and wander in Busan's streets or maybe finally feel the sand of the beach or the cold of sea waves like you had been craving to do.

However, only a week had gone by and it had seemed like an eternity. You were already exhausted by this tensed situation you were plunged into each morning you stepped into the market, and instead of taking a walk once you were done with work like you had planned to, you still pursued your routine of going to sleep. What pissed you even more was that above all, you found him beautiful although he was being the most experienced asshole in the world with you. You found him beautiful when he looked annoyed – which was most of the time –, you found him beautiful when his brows furrowed, you found him beautiful when his tone went under the one of a vault, and you found him beautiful in each one of his outfits that were supposed to be picked up carelessly but suited him nonetheless – even with the ridiculous apron you had to wear.

You choked yourself mentally every time you landed your eyes on him with too much attention, printing the image of his handsome profile with his sharp nose in your brain, and with even more vigor when you felt thrilled at the sight of the smile he never greeted you but that was pretty as hell. Hell, yes, because that guy was the devil itself, never failing to throw away his fake angel looks when there was only the two of you to spit venom and burn you with his bashful words.

Still, you couldn't be thankful enough for the shell you've been living in since you were little, not letting others reach your emotions easily and hurt you the way Changkyun could have done to a more sensible person. You were also proud of your ability to ignore him and to fight back, your fiery conversations not lasting long or almost making you laugh when you triumphed at making him shut up or annoyed. As tiring as it was for your nerves, you could have dealt quietly with it like you always had, if chance hadn't decided to go in your way and add oil to the fire pit Changkyun and you were battling in.

Indeed, by the third week of July, you finally found the courage to furrow the streets of the city and to enjoy the little time you had to yourself instead of dying in your bedroom. But a few hours after you had parted ways with Changkyun, hoping not to see each other until the next morning, you ended up meeting each other by pure coincidence.

The first time, you were walking on the promenade with the marine wind in your hair, listening to your music and overall floating in your bubble, when you saw him arriving in front of you, surrounded by five other guys who were laughing cheerfully. He stopped and so you did, rolling your eyes at the same time and you immediately turned on your heels to flee the crime scene that would have occurred if he had opened his mouth in front of his friends, without a doubt feeling full of confidence to bash you in their presence. Weirdly though, your heart skipped a bit at the sight of his wet and sandy hair fighting against the breeze and of his naked torso, broad and outlined, telling you he had just dipped into the sea minutes ago. However, the absence of eyes in the back of your head prevented you from seeing how he only stared at you without breathing, at your hair shining under the sun, at your bare legs revealed by your high waisted shorts that married perfectly your curves, at your determined gait taking you far away from him ; he lost himself at your sight so bad that one of his friends had to nudge his side for him to stop ogling you any longer.

The second time, you had decided to escape the sea after seeing him the day before, so you randomly took some lovely streets, entering some boutiques and offering yourself some new clothes, simply loving your me-time. Until you came across his figure in a park you had chosen to enter into, the blossoming trees and the sight of a kiosk seducing your eyes and heart.

Changkyun was sitting on a bench under a tree with the same friends you had quickly seen, eating some snacks as they were chatting and laughing, and this time your heart didn't miss a beat, no, it quickened its pace to the point you thought you would die. He was wearing a white long sleeved shirt with black jeans and sneakers, and a white cap was covering his greyish-brown hair parting in two on his forehead. Again, his face looked as tired as yours must have been with your early morning activities, but he still was gorgeous, even more because he wasn't wearing that jaded mask he had with you. You hesitated to turn around and go somewhere else as he didn't see you yet, but by the time you were reaching a decision, he was already looking at you and even walking in your direction, his traits again as hard as ever.

"Are you following me or what?" he said in a hushed voice.

"What? I'm not!" you exclaimed but the apparent blush of your cheeks and your elusive pupils made him believe the contrary.

"Then what are you doing here? Busan is big you know, how come we meet today as well? Last week I didn't see you at all!"

"What's wrong Changkyun?" asked one of his friends behind his back, standing on his feet and revealing his tall and imposing figure, but his cute face when his lips curved into a smile helped you staying calm.

"Nothing hyung, she's the girl I'm working with and I think she's followed me here" Changkyun answered with a clearer tone, and for the first time he addressed you a smile, but it was full of slyness.

"I didn't, I'm just visiting, I stayed at home last week that's why you didn't see me, now if you don't mind I'll go" you answered, your irritation apparent in your voice as you passed him and quickly greeted his friends with a small bow before storming to the kiosk to hide yourself forever.

Your body was clearly expressing the effect the boy had on you when you saw him under other circumstances than the marketplace : your hands were wet, your heart crazy, and your legs were going to abandon their functions if you didn't sit down in the following seconds. Why the hell am I feeling like that? He's handsome, yes, but he's just a bugger!

"Why didn't you invite her to hang out with us? She's cute" asked the most muscular of the group, once you were out of sight.

"I don't like her, she's annoying and childish, and I have to work because of her clumsy ass remember" Changkyun explained, sitting down angrily on the bench before taking off his cap as he also had started to feel sweat forming on his forehead since he had seen you.

***

You swore Busan couldn't have felt any tinier, because you didn't understand how in the world you could randomly meet your summer enemy everywhere you went to in the city. Today was a Thursday, the sun was up in the sky and you had wished to at least soak your feet in the blue sea, and maybe enjoy a cocktail in a café-bar which had drawn your attention a few days ago, with its youngster-surfer vibe and its simple but appetizing menu. The barman also wasn't unpleasant, but you hushed your girly silliness as you entered around 4 pm, your hair wet after you finally had taken a sea bath and tried to get your pale skin to brown a little.

You hadn't gone further than the market surroundings for a week after the two times you had met Changkyun, too scared to tempt the chance that seemed to be coming after you, and because he hadn't forgot the next morning to tell you rudely not to follow him, to what you had answered he was too full of himself and that he should fuck off. However, with the beautiful weather on this Thursday, without a cloud to be seen, you couldn't hide yourself anymore and decided not to care about how Changkyun would react if you came across each other again.

You should have known better, that you weren't lucky enough to defy chance, fate, or whatever had chosen you to play with. You were sipping on your fruity cocktail silently, sitting on the terrace that had a nice view of the promenade full of trees and flowers and of the beach only a few meters away, when you saw him through your sunglasses. You almost whined of annoyance, on the verge of going crazy about how he seemed to be like a ghost haunting you since last week. Once again, his hair was wet and curling a little, with its silver glints revealed by the sun, while he had switched his lazy outfit from the morning with a pair of jeans shorts and a white top under a grey cardigan.

He was with the same group of guys as the previous times, who were really loud and happy, and when he was about to make his way to the bar, Changkyun stopped in his tracks as he acknowledged your presence, his face falling into some unreadable expression, probably because he was as taken aback as you by the way you constantly met. To elude any suspicions, he quickly followed his mates who were cheerfully greeting the pretty barman – Kihyun if you had read his name well.

Obviously, a nice weather implied drinking outside with the seaside breeze, and you found yourself facing the table of the boys who finally noticed you, giving both Changkyun and you curious looks before one of them found a subject of conversation to distract themselves. During the first ten minutes, you felt his sharp eyes on you, with his chin a bit raised, giving him this bad boy aura he was always seeking in front of you and that made your heart weak despite all the hate you had for him. He suddenly got out of his vest, revealing his arms under the rolled sleeves of his T-Shirt, and then he placed the side of his face in the palm of his hand, his pupils never quitting your frame in the process. Again, cold sweat and chills : again, tachycardia ; again, numb legs.

Soon enough though, a bunch of girls passed by and greeted the band, staying up next to their table, and it finally grasped Changkyun's attention, freeing you from your unexplained sensations. You couldn't prevent your gaze to go back and forth between the sea and his group, hiding behind your sunglasses, to observe their affinities – maybe he has a girlfriend? Now that you came to think of it for the second time, even if you had been with one another for now almost three weeks, you knew nothing about each other. The first time was a few nights ago, when your father had asked you this question during dinner :

"So what about Changkyun? What kind of boy is he? How come you never talk about him! With all the time you spend together and the things you do, you must have a strong bond by now, don't you? It's true that we get pretty attached to our summer friends in no time!"

You had stayed quiet for a few seconds, building something to come up with as you had faced the truth : you didn't know a single thing about him, what he liked and what he didn't, his friends, his passions, his ambitions, and you surely didn't have his number nor any of his social networks' accounts. As you had looked through your memories quickly, all you could have pointed at was him listening to some rap music in his headphones early in the morning while you were installing, or him having a great appetite when it came to eat the meals the granny offered you, or him playing RPG games on his phone whenever he had the time, or him meeting these hyungs to hang out once you were done with your morning service, but that was all. In some way though, that was also enough to tell you you've been observing him with way too much attention, some attention he shouldn't get in the first place, and realizing it had tensed you. Changkyun and you were just enemies of circumstances, living up a lie in front of your parents that didn't take the time to look through it and never grabbed the chance to uncloak you just by asking you this exact question about each other's well-being or tastes.

"Hummm… I… We're not really talkative, you know, so… Yeah, he's nice to hang out with" you had mumbled before taking a long sip in your cup of water.

"He's such a charming boy" your mother had commented, and you had hidden your need to puke at how this adjective sounded awful in your ears. "I'm amazed at how everything goes well between you and for your last summer like this. I didn't think this would happen! He sure will be a good friend, that's beautiful sweetheart."

These outings are what never happened, mom, you had wanted to answer, but you had only looked down at your plate and wrongfully nodded in agreement, regretting to be lying to your parents since so long but too deep in it for you to get out. This whole comedy was a pure joke to you, something you didn't take too seriously to feel really guilty as the life or death of the boy mattered to you as much as one of a fly. At least, you convinced yourself so, somehow perfectly aware of the weird feelings you were getting because of him from time to time, when you really looked at him, or when, like at this exact moment, you met him by coincidence outside the market, discovering another Changkyun, a lively one, a smiling one, an apparently funny one as he made everyone at his table laugh with his derp faces or his comments you couldn't hear.

"Kkukkungiiiiiie, are you coming to the party next Friday?"

The voice of a girl shook you out of your thoughts, and you caught the annoyed eyes of Changkyun going straight in your direction, over the shoulder of the model-looking boy of the team who had his back facing you. You didn't hold back your quiet laugh to make him feel ridiculous. Kkukkungie? Seriously? The boy rolled his eyes, clearly pissed that you had heard that somehow cute but most of all silly nickname, and this time his angry look didn't stop you from smiling as you were making fun of him. Not too long after, the girls were gone, their laughs still tinting in your ear-drums like birds singing too happily, and that was when the pretty barman came to serve you the dessert you had ordered as your afternoon snack, a key lime pie. You suddenly felt shy when he engaged the conversation :

"Are you here alone for holidays?"

His voice was really calm and sweet, like the bright smile he gave you that almost closed his eyes in a cute way.

"Oh uh… No, I'm here to help my parents at the market" you answered, smiling back.

"Oh I see! I'm Kihyun by the way, you are?"

"Y/N."

He offered you his hand and you shook it gently, before taking it back to your lap.

"So where are you from?" he asked again.

"Seoul! But I really love it here" you admitted, surprising yourself as you let the words roll through your tongue instead of cutting off the discussion.

Changkyun was observing you from behind, his brows furrowed as he saw one of his hyungs talking to you, but even more when the latter turned back and shouted :

"Ya guys! She's new here and all alone and you didn't even invite her at your table! What kind of gentlemen are you seriously, you're making me feel ashamed!"

Once again, you wanted to kill yourself for dragging people involuntarily into your situation and forcing them to hang out with you, first Changkyun at the old lady's stand, now all of his friends that were staring at you. You were shaking your head from left to right to express that everything was really fine but it was too late :

"Ohhhh but she's the girl Changkyun is working with! Sure, come and join us!" one of them exclaimed as if he hadn't seen you before when he clearly had, making it even more awkward.

However, when Kihyun nodded his head in their direction while smiling at you, you realized you had no other choice but to do as you were told, being polite and appreciative when all you wanted to do was to run away from this place and quickly. Remind me why did I go near the sea again?

"Hi, I'm Jooheon" said the one who had just invited you and when he smiled, two deep dimples appeared on his chubby cheeks, making him a ray of sun in an instant. His hair was chocolate brown and slicked back on his head, and he had even sharper eyes than Changkyun.

You sat down next to him where an empty spot seemed to have waited for you, and introduced yourself back, waiting for the others to do the same. On your left was sitting the model-boy, with his dark hair and his tall but slim frame, whose name you now knew was Hyungwon ; Shownu, the tall and massive boy who had interfered the last time, had short brown hair and tanned skin ; the one named Hoseok had his hair bleached and prominent muscles ; and finally, Minhyuk, who also had brown hair, smiled at you and seemed to be the most talkative and excited of the band as his introduction was the longest. Overall, they were guys with enjoyable looks and fashion styles, but to your great despair, not even one beat the handsomeness of Changkyun in your eyes. Quickly, Minhyuk made you talk and you did your best to forget the presence of your market partner, almost enjoying how the whole situation was annoying him as you saw his leg jump up and down since you sat at his table.

"Why didn't you introduce us to her earlier Changkyun-ah? She's really fun" Jooheon said as if he was outraged and you smiled in victory, defying the designated one who was, for the first time, avoiding your gaze as his eyes were drifting to the sea, his brows knotting and his bottom lip trapped between his teeth.

"I already told you hyung, she's not my friend so there's no reason for you to be" he hummed between gritted teeth, his head still turned away from you.

"You don't get to decide who we hang out with you brat!" protested Minhyuk before he slapped his shoulder. "Hey Y/N, why don't you come to my pool party next Friday?"

You weren't against having a little fun, and you didn't need to stay with them all night ; maybe you would meet some other really nice people and could avoid Changkyun. After all, you deserved at least one party for this summer, and maybe it was the only opportunity you'll ever have before going back to work and hiding yourself in Busan’s streets with the hopes of not getting surprised by Changkyun’s ghost-like appearances like you had another time today. The boy had finally turned his body towards you and was looking at you with daring eyes, but you couldn't care even less. He had been the one who had started to build your hateful relationship even if his anger had been legit at the beginning, but you were not going to give him some satisfaction by avoiding having some fun.

"Yeah, sure, thank you! I've been dying to go out!"

The boys whooped in satisfaction while the jaw of Changkyun dropped, showing he wasn't expecting your boldness, but anyway, he still had to deal with it.

To be continued...

A/N : I’ll try to update Part 2 in a few days! Thank you again for reading... Any comments good or bad are welcomed as usual!

109 notes · View notes

barbarasminerva-remade · 8 years ago

Text

dc heroes highschool au

so i was thinking about this and its my new baby but its really long so im putting part of it under a read more

the school is called justice academy and the school colors are blue, white and gold

theres a martial arts class at their school that bruce teaches bc he’s lonely and we all know he doesn’t have a real job

clark is the lunch lady who reminds kids to eat their vegetables

everything made in the caf is grown in the school garden that he has and he shames kids into not picking the unhealthy foods

bruce is smashing the lunch lady aka clark n he thinks no one knows but really the whole school gossips about how rich dude/part time gym teacher bruce wayne is banging sweet lunch lady clark

also clark and lois have an open marriage so they don’t have to hide their relationship but bruce is like........yeah but i don’t want ppl to know i’m dating someone who says y'all'd've'st

Kon HATES it bc he and tim are also dating

diana is the wrestling coach and everyone marvels at how good she is except donna and cassie (bc thats donnas mom and cassie’s aunt and she loves to embarrass them) n she’s known for having a rivalry with her the arkham academy coach, barbara minerva, aka her ex girlfriend

also diana is an ancient/world history teacher teaching history as it happened

Diana during the first day of class: The common theme in world history is that White Men Ruin Everything

donna is captain of the wrestling team

she’s really good and everyone on the wrestling team aspires to be her and everyone on the rival school’s (arkham academy) team wants to beat her

kory was an exchange student during her freshman year and eventually decides to stay. she’s cheer captain but also known for arguing for equality and stages like school walkouts and things and no one ever challenges her bc she’s tall and buff and her gf is the captain of the wrestling team

wally runs track and field

wally is iris's nephew and barry and iris met at a track meet when iris came to pick him up and he was like hey wally what's ur aunt's number? and wally was like ‘sorry coach barry my aunt isn’t looking rn’ bc he thought it’d be weird if his coach dated his aunt but barry shoots his shot anyways and now barry and iris are engaged

also wally is a senior n bart is a freshman so when barry makes bart co-captain wally is like what the fuck is the point of you being engaged to my aunt if i dont get nepotism?????? n barry's like wally he's ur cousin and wally's like not if he steals my scholarships and they fight a lot but they l*ve each other

roy is president of the archery club with his sorta sister artemis crock and jason is a lit nerd who roy flirts with but jason just thinks he wants homework so he ignores him

roy struggles with being a good dad while also fighting his addiction and work part time to try and save up for college after ollie kicked him out all on top of being a senior in high school

artemis is good friends w mia and conner bc first they were in the archery club together and then she joins the family after jade has lian and she’s like i’m sorry jade is vicious and tries to help out with lian as much as possible and mia and conner respect that

artemis is a really good aunt, she loves lian so much and spends all of her pocket money on taking her niece places. she ditches school to get slurpees w her girlfriends zatanna and m’gann. m’gann helps her study for her classes and with her homework. both make sure she stays in school cause artemis almost flunks out at one point bc of family stuff. also artemis is in lit club bc Z is in it and she supports her

jason lives in an apartment and he makes bruce pay for it as reparations for being a bad dad. but he also works bc he’ll be damned if he has to live off of bruce’s money permanently and eventually starts paying for his own bills and stuff

dick is captain of the gymnastics team and he’s really good. he’s the best in the region and has only ever lost a meet once (which was nationals, he came 2nd place)

tiger, dick, and helena went to summer camp together. tiger doesn’t go to their school, he goes to a gotham boarding school and dick sneaks into his room at night to hang out/make out and tiger comes to dick’s meets and helena tags along

also wally has a big crush on dick and he has since they were kids and dick liked him too. but wally thought dick wasn’t interested so he never went for it and then dick being dick just moved on and now wally just pines after him and it’s sad :/

damian is a snot nose 9 year old kid who hangs around the gymnastic team’s practices to hang out with his big bro and he sneers at the team and says he could do it better (which he can)

the summer before jason’s sophomore year he disappears after an incident and no one knows what happened to him but afterwards bruce sends him to boarding school to correct his behavior (which is where he meets amazon artemis and bizarro) until jason says fuck this and comes back junior year and everyone spread rumors that he like died while he was gone bc no one ever saw him so when he returned everyone was like :O and dick is really excited he’s back but jason is pissed at him bc he didn’t like support jason in fighting w bruce to let him stay

jason has bruce’s number blocked for the drama of it and bruce refuses to think his son blocked him so he's like "oh his phone must be off he's so busy love that guy (:" and no one has the heart to tell him. the rare times he does answer the phone when bruce calls, he recites a monologue and hangs up. he’s also president of drama club and also of literature club

jason recites historic and iconic monologues and soliloquies (bc he has them memorized for certain situations) except he just sprinkles curse words in

jason’s english teacher is about to fucking quit their job bc jason always tries to teach the class

cass is the best student in bruce’s class and also his daughter and she’s fairly quiet and hangs out mostly with her brothers. people like don’t really know who she is other than like hey that’s the kick ass dancer on helena’s dance team or oh! that’s the girl who kicked my ass sparring in Mr. Wayne’s class. she meets steph in one of bruce’s classes and she’s like wild and outgoing and funny and cass has a really big crush on her but she doesn’t think steph feels the same way (she does though) also steph can drive and she’s always taking cass on these really fun adventures but bruce doesn’t approve of steph so cass like sneaks out to go hang out with steph but bruce never knows bc he thinks she’s the perfect daughter and like steph brings cass out of her shell. she’s also on the gymnastics team with dick and is the second highest placing athlete on the team.

my boy duke thomas and his parents were good friends of bruce right so when during the summer before his freshman year his parents die in a freak car accident bruce takes him in. he’s a sophomore now and he’s still adjusting to life with bruce and he thinks his new siblings are kinda weird but cool. he’s also really focused on making sure his grades are immaculate so that he can get into his dream school and make his parents proud. he is in the school band and he’s really great and tim is also in band bc bruce made him but he’s not as good as duke

jason met duke at a family dinner he was forced to go to and thinks he’s cool unlike his other loser brother and makes him join literature club

tim drake is a freshmen and gets shoved into lockers. his only friends are kon, bart, and cassie. he joined the coding club bc he thinks babs is extra cool and wants to be like her

jason is the one shoving him in the locker and tim’s like what the fuck you’re the nerd here and jason’s like funny isn’t it and then closes the locker

bart hangs out with tim and kon and cassie. except cassie is cool from being on the wrestling team and being donna’s cousin so she’s always really busy but she tries to make time for them. wally shoves him into lockers sometimes and kon has to get them both out.

kon is in his rebellious teen phase where he's like fuck u dad i don’t wanna be a farmer but its justified bc kon is techinically an illegitimate child from a previous relationship and clark is kind of a dick to him bc he treats Jon better than Kon

helena and dinah make out under the school bleachers before helena has dance practice and when helena has to go dinah smacks her ass and says knock em dead babe

helena originally took mr. wayne's martial arts class because she needed PE credit but now she kinda likes it. the whole time she’s there she objects to bruce's passive approach to fighting

bruce: fight to disarm or incapacitate ur partner helena: thats dumb, fight to kill ur partner

bruce wayne voice: helena this is a PE class please stop trying to murder your partners

kate kane subs for bruce sometimes but she supports helena's kill ur partner attitude so they don’t hire her very often

helena is captain of the dance team and they perform at all school rallies and football games and shes really hard on her team mates but only bc she wants them to be their best and babs & dinah make her music mixes for performances bc they love her

babs is president of the coding club and even though she’s a nerd everyone respects her. her and dick went on a date once and then when he kissed her good night she realized she was a lesbian. they’re still buddies though. she dated dinah for awhile but they decided they were better as friends. helena and babs became friends in the martial arts class and babs introduced helena and dinah and the three have been bffs ever since.

#this is so long n theres a second post w more stuff hghjkhghfhj #creds to the sapphicdcnet for some of the ideas #esp mason #justice academy au #sapphicdcnet #justice league

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lusilly · 8 years ago

Text

streets of gotham: secret origins

finally a complete introductory fic for the Streets of Gotham 2 team: Colin Wilkes (Abuse), Ellen Nayar (Ember), Nell Little (Spoiler), Jordan Joyce (Jabberwock), and Niloufar Ghorbani (Seraph). (lucas comes later lmao)

Since Jordan’s got the most complicated backstory, xe has xyr own intro fic you can read here. The SoG2 team is featured heavily in Fiat iusticia and in Wheel in the Sky.

This fic was an exercise in Mark Waid’s advice on how plot is nothing more than setting upon which to hang emotion.........and that was Tough lmao. extremely unsatisfied with the ending. Relies heavily on story from Batman: The Black Mirror. Damian is about 16 here. My fav part of this is damian beating the shit out of a joker stan. Enjoy!

NAME: Damian Wayne ALIAS: Robin DATE OF BIRTH: 5 September 1996 (approximate) BLOOD TYPE: O- (Full Medical History) EMERGENCY CONTACT: BW, DG AFFILIATIONS: Teen Titans, Team Ember EVAL: [File Encrypted] NOTES: |Robin| Eval needs to be de-encrypted. Any information contained therein cannot possibly be worse than not knowing |Nightwing| Yeah thats kind of a dick move B. Lol |Batman| Notes are to be relevant to the file in question not a space for airing personal grievances |Red Hood| Im airing my personal grievances here just to spite you. You suck |Batman| If this continues I will remove editing privileges for all of you |Red Hood| You still suck Editing on NOTES is locked

----

Damian got up early; patrol had ended before two AM last night, the city quiet and still in the early winter lull. A cold snap had settled across Gotham this past week, creeping in from the bay. Though it did not snow, the clear skies brought the temperature to well below freezing, which led to slow nights on patrol. The heat of summer pushed people outside relentlessly. The cold, on the other hand, made criminals lethargic and cautious, preferring to stay inside with their families.

So Damian rolled out of bed around nine in the morning, the sunlight shining into his window through blinds he had forgotten to draw last night. The first thing he did was take his phone from its perch on his bedside table and scroll through any new notifications. Both Iris and Lian had texted him. He responded to Iris’s but not Lian’s, then went to the bathroom to brush his teeth. Not ten minutes later he was in the drawing room downstairs, where Titus slept before the great brick fireplace, which was empty.

Damian patted his dog on the stomach, whistling through his teeth. “Come on,” he said, getting down on his knees and drumming his hands on Titus’s sturdy body. The dog lit up with energy, reaching up to lick Damian’s face, tail wagging furiously as he got to his feet. Damian scratched him behind his ears. “You ready for a run, boy? Come on, let’s get some exercise.”

Alfred appeared, hot coffee in hand. “Good morning, Damian,” he said. “Taking the dog for a walk?”

“Yes,” answered Damian, glancing around. “He’s been indoors too much lately because of the cold, he needs to stretch his legs.”

“You too?”

Damian offered Alfred a little grin. “Me too,” he agreed. “It’s slow out there.”

“And here I thought that was a good thing.”

“It is.” Titus bounded across the room excitedly, chasing his tail, ready for a walk. He started to paw at Damian’s leg, and Damian only held up one hand to indicate Stop. “Down. One moment, alright?” To Alfred, he asked, “Do you know what time my father got home last night?”

Alfred gave sort of a shrug. “Not long after you.”

“Oh,” said Damian. “When he wakes up will you tell him I’m heading to school later today? I’ve got an exam at three.”

Alfred made a face of enthusiastic pride. “Your first university exam,” he said, sounding impressed. “In which subject, may I ask?”

“Multivariable calculus,” Damian answered, kneeling down to rub Titus’s big head. “It’s simple stuff. A pre-req for applied math.”

“Not finance?”

Damian flashed that grin at Alfred once more. “I’m just testing out my options,” he said. “I have time.”

“Indeed you do,” agreed Alfred, with an approving nod. “In any case, good luck and I shall inform your father as soon as he wakes. Which,” he glanced at the grandfather clock in the hallway, and took a disapproving sip of coffee, “should be quite soon. He’s quite worse than you, isn’t he?”u

Damian opened the French doors to the back garden. With a wave to Alfred, he said, “We’ll be back,” and he whistled for Titus to follow him, then took off jogging past the flowerbeds. Coffee in hand, Alfred watched him go.

The morning was brisk, but Damian felt warm and alive underneath the early wintertime sun. Taking it slow, he scrolled through his phone, searching for an appropriate playlist, then tucked earbuds into his ears and his the phone itself into a holder at his bicep. Whistling once more at Titus, he took a wide berth around his vegetable garden, knowing that Titus was prone to digging around in it sometimes, upsetting his crops. From there he stayed close to the tree line, heading out across the Manor grounds. The route he liked to take eventually led to a field and a set of rolling hills littered with public paths; he preferred, however, to take a less intuitive path, slightly different every time and designed to get the most out of the slope of the hills.

Damian took great joy in his morning runs with Titus: it was productive and refreshing and outside, instead of careful training in the facilities under the Manor, which, though state-of-the-art, could feel a little claustrophobic. It was good, he thought, to get out of the house for a little while, out from under his father’s watchful eye. This was the same reason why he’d been spending so much time with the Titans lately.

Cutting through the edge of the woods, where the trees were sparse, Damian suddenly realized that Titus wasn’t following him anymore. When he glanced around, Titus was nowhere to be seen. He came to a stop and turned around, tugging his earbuds out.

It was mostly quiet, except for the wind shuddering the tree branches. Damian whistled. “Titus!” There was no response. Muttering an oath under his breath, Damian jogged back down the path he’d just cut. “Titus!” he called again, searching between the trees on either side of him. “Titus, come!”

His heart jumped as he heard suddenly a piteous whining, as if Titus were afraid of something, cowering in fear; with a little more urgency he headed into the woods, following the source of the sound. “Titus!”

Off the beaten path, obscured by some low underbrush, the scene Damian found jolted his stomach, making him feel immediately sick before his well-practiced professional instinct took over. “Titus,” he hissed, approaching the dog, who laid whining beside the ugly sight. Grabbing Titus’s collar, he tugged the dog away, retreating to a nearby tree. Titus whined as Damian took out his phone, but Damian just said, “Sit. Titus, sit,” and the dog did so, albeit reluctantly.

In Wayne Manor, Bruce Wayne’s personal cell phone, which sat neatly in a charging device by his bed, started to ring.

Bruce, raised his head groggily from the mess of sheets and limbs in which he typically slept. Narrowing his eyes at the screen of the phone, which displayed an close-up selfie of Damian’s annoyed face that Dick had assigned to his civilian contact, Bruce started at it for a moment before reaching out and plucking it off the charger.

“Damian?” he said, masterfully masking his confusion.

“Father,” replied Damian shortly, heading back to the path by the edge of the woods. “Did I wake you?”

“I – where are you?”

“A few miles away from home, almost at Brentwood. I took Titus for a run.” This was not unusual, but it was unusual for Damian to call home halfway through. Unsure what was happening, Bruce began, “Is…everything all right?”

“I found a body,” he said bluntly.

Bruce’s eyebrows shot up. “You what?”

“Well, Titus found it, really. It was sort of tucked off the main path, we never would’ve seen it had I not decided to loop around past the Kai estate. A boy,” Damian informed his father automatically, pausing to bark, “Titus, come,” before continuing, “maybe my age or slightly older. Wearing a Brentwood uniform.”

“Signs of assault?”

“No,” answered Damian. “Dead for a few hours now at the very least, but I can’t determine COD. Suppose we’ll have to wait for the coroner’s report.”

Sitting up in bed, calm and alert, Bruce began, “All right. Bring anything you’ve gathered back here and we can look into it tonight. Good work so far but for now the best thing to do would be to call the police-”

Damian interrupted him. “I already did,” he said. “Father, I’m sorry, I think you may be misunderstanding me? I wasn’t actually calling about the body, I’m calling to ask if you can come pick me up.”

Bruce blinked in surprise. “What?” he asked. “Why?”

“Because I already called the police and they’ll be here any minute, and I’ll have to act all traumatized because of the dead body, and anyway you know I don’t like civilian encounters with police without you.”

This more or less made sense, but it wasn’t what Bruce had meant. “What do you mean you aren’t calling about the body?”

“Oh,” said Damian, as if he hadn’t even thought of this. “Well. It’s by Brentwood.”

Again, Bruce did not immediately understand. “So?”

Almost apologetically, Damian said, “A five mile radius beyond campus limits…isn’t your jurisdiction, Father.”

It hit Bruce then with the force of a freight train: he, like a goddamn amateur idiot, had ceded actual turf to Damian’s pet side team made up of Gotham natives and sometimes headed by Damian’s closest friend in the city, Colin Wilkes, who boarded at Brentwood Academy on a Wayne Enterprises scholarship. The agreement itself had been a bit of a farce meant to keep the team out of trouble, given the specific area the Batman had permitted the team as their responsibility was located in the richest neighborhood in Bristol County, slightly outside Gotham city limits. He had not imagined that any terrible crime might go down five miles away from a wealthy private school, but in retrospect, of course it would.

“Damian,” said Bruce matter-of-factly. “I appreciate your loyalty to your friends,” he didn’t want to legitimize it by saying your team, and besides the Titans were more Damian’s team in any case, “but even you need to admit, this is out of their league.”

“This is one dead body,” answered Damian skeptically. “If that’s out of their league, they shouldn’t be doing this at all.”

“Well, perhaps that’s a fair point-”

“No,” said Damian shortly. “It’s not. You wouldn’t have given Ember her uniform if you really believed that.”

This was true enough, but frankly Bruce thought Ember was the only member of that team capable of joining the fight, and ideally he’d absorb her into the Batfamily at large before she got too committed to her own team. But this was not a conversation he wanted to have over the phone, so he shoved the sheets off the bed and said, “Don’t move for now, I’ll be there in a few minutes.”

“Will you hurry, please?” Damian asked, sounding bored and slightly annoyed. “I hate calling the cops.”

Getting out of bed, Bruce reminded him, “You should be used to it, it’s half of what we do on patrol.”

“Yes,” muttered Damian, hearing the distant wail of sirens. “But I’m not exactly in uniform at the moment, am I?”

Feeling a little awkward at the reminder of the constant presence of race in Damian’s life which Bruce could never really fully grasp, Bruce assured his son that he would be there very soon. As soon as he hung up Damian sent him a pin dropped into a map at his location.

Bruce arrived not long after the police; a detective was talking to Damian, taking down notes. Titus got anxious around people he didn’t know, so Damian had his fingers hooked around his collar, keeping him close. The detective – a rookie who Bruce didn’t recognize on sight – had a few questions for Bruce, then patted Damian’s shoulder reassuringly. Taking Bruce aside, he recommended considering having Damian speak to a professional about the trauma of the sight he’d just witnessed, and Bruce nodded in what he hoped looked like naïve paternal concern.

Damian coaxed Titus in the backseat of the car, then got in himself. Titus hung his big head in between the two front seats, panting from exertion and excitement.

On the ride back to the Manor, Damian mercilessly mocked the police. “Now, this is so traumatizing, but you’ve been awfully brave – for Christ’s sake, it’s like none of them have ever seen a dead body before.”

“Well,” said Bruce fairly, “most sixteen-year-olds haven’t, Damian.”

“It’s not as if it was violent,” Damian pointed out. “There wasn’t even any blood or anything.”

“Which is…curious,” said Bruce thoughtfully. “No external evidence of foul play. Suicide?” Phone in hand, Damian replied, “I already sent photos to Colin, he should be able to identify him and pull his school records. We’ll check for a history of depression or mental illness, but my gut tells me a Brentwood student wouldn’t stagger into the woods to kill himself unless it was going to be uglier than that.”

Bruce nodded; this made sense. “Could’ve been an accident. Alcohol poisoning, or an overdose.”

“I’m leaning towards overdose personally,” answered Damian, texting something on his phone. “Colin’s files should have any record of drug activity at the school. I’ll meet up with him and the others tonight and we’ll get started.”

There was an awkward sort of pause. Bruce began, “You know, if you or the rest of the team ever require any help-”

As the car came to a stop in the Wayne Manor garage, Damian shook his head, interrupting his father. “You’re micromanaging,” he pointed out. “I told you, they’re never going to get better if you keep stepping in and taking over their investigations.”

“I understand that,” replied Bruce, turning the car off. “I’m merely remarking upon the fact that they lack experience, and therefore could benefit from guidance.”

“Namely, me,” said Damian, watching his father. “I’m their guidance.” He waited for a moment, eyes on Bruce, as if expecting confirmation. Little tink-tink-tink sounds came from the car’s engine as it cooled. “Right?”

Bruce began, “You already have a team-”

“You have, like, four teams,” Damian countered. “Not to mention whatever secret society you’re funding this week.”

“A murder is serious business.”

“You don’t even know if it’s murder yet.”

“If it were-”

“-then you still wouldn’t be in any position to take this from them. Just,” Titus stuck his head forward again, whining, and Damian reached out to scratch his face. “Unclench, alright?” Damian asked his father. “I can handle this.” Bruce didn’t reply to this, so Damian got out of the car and opened the door for Titus, who happily jumped out and followed him back into the house.

Later that day, Damian drove to Princeton for his first college exam. He finished early, and called Colin on the drive home.

---

NAME: Colin Wilkes ALIAS: “Abuse” DATE OF BIRTH: 9 December 1996 BLOOD TYPE: AB+ (Full Medical History) EMERGENCY CONTACT: Jane Brown LSW, Caseworker AFFILIATIONS: Team Ember EVAL: Behavioral history of paranoia and violence in multiple foster homes, though likely a result of instability in childhood rather than pathological root. Experimentation by SCARECROW led to increased physical abilities through transformation which includes augmented strength (no evidence senses are affected) as well as moderate invulnerability. Venom appears to have had long-lasting effects on body chemistry despite its degradation.

Decent field skills complemented by extreme strength. Only cleared for patrol if transformed. hand-to-hand and weapons training negligible. Defense training and development of damage-resistant uniform necessary to compensate for tendency to take fire. Precision training vital for development of fine offensive skills.

NOTES: |Robin| Consistent attitude improvements since enrollment at Brentwood. Some instability with transformations likely due to a mental block, have seen improvement past 2-3 months

---

“You’ve got to get a permanent HQ,” said Damian, in full Robin uniform, standing before a laptop computer in an empty Brentwood Academy classroom.

“This is good though,” Colin insisted. “This way we’re close to the action, right?”

“Well,” Damian replied, trying not to hurt Colin’s feelings. “Yes, though it really isn’t worth the lack of security or tech resources. Batman operates almost solely out of the Cave, and you know that’s a bit removed from the city.”

Colin said, “I don’t have a house to stick a secret lair underneath, though.”

“I mean, yes,” Damian admitted, nodding. “But the point stands. Besides, most of your team has trouble getting all the way out here. Spoiler’s bike can only hold two people.”

“That works fine anyway, Jordan doesn’t need a ride.”

With a long-suffering inhalation, Damian gently corrected, “Jabberwock, Abuse. Jabberwock. We use codenames in the field.”

“Oh, yeah,” said Colin, clicking through some files on the computer. “My bad. Anyway.” He gestured towards the screen. “This is what I got so far.”

“Aren’t we going to wait for the others?”

“Oh, should we?”

“Ideally, yes, we should. But if you’ve any sensitive information to share with me first,” he gestured at the screen, “by all means.”

Colin hesitated for a moment, watching Damian. Then he began, “Well, you know how I was kind of sort of maybe dating Ethan a while ago? So it turns out-”

“Abuse,” interrupted Damian loudly, holding up a hand. “I don’t mean – I meant sensitive information related to the case. You can call me and update me on your social life any time, so let’s try to avoid it while in uniform, yes?”

A little hurt, Colin replied, “This is related to the case. The dead kid is Joey Fremont, OK, and his roommate is on the wrestling team with Ethan, and so a while ago Ethan asked me to go to one of the wrestling team parties after the meet, and I didn’t go ‘cause he was being weird cagey about us and I could tell he wanted to go as ‘friends’ and it was annoying because like I asked him out and everything so it’s not like he didn’t actually have like feelings-”

Softly, Damian reminded him, “The point, please.”

“OK, OK, so – Ethan heard from Joey’s roommate that he was dealing in some shady shit.”

A frown creased Damian’s brow. “Define ‘shady shit.’”

“Dealing,” Colin emphasized, as if that had made it obvious. “Like, drugs.” This seemed a little far-fetched. “Joseph Fremont, seventeen-year-old trust fund baby, was a drug-dealer?”

“Yeah. Some shady stuff.”

There it was again, shady, Colin’s favorite ambiguous descriptor. Damian felt a migraine coming on. “We’re still waiting on the tox report,” Damian told him. “But it’ll be easier if we know what to look for. Do you know what he was dealing?”

“Drugs,” said Colin.

“What kind of drugs? Cocaine? Heroin?”

“What the fuck, you think I know? I didn’t buy any shit from him.”

This was going to be harder than Damian thought. “Do you know anyone who did buy it?” he asked. “Maybe Ethan, or someone else on the wrestling team?” Offended, Colin told him, “Bitch, Ethan isn’t a fucking junkie.”

“Right, since you have impeccable taste in guys.”

“Wow,” said Colin, even more insulted. “That’s fucking rude.”

Damian was saved from trying to apologize for his completely correct and true reading of Colin’s limited dating history by a knock on the window. “Cavalry’s here,” he said, heading to open the window.

Ember and Spoiler slipped into the room. “We weren’t sure if we were supposed to use the door,” Spoiler explained. “We thought there might be cameras and stuff.”

“Abuse disabled them,” Damian said. “And we’re far enough from the center of campus that security doesn’t patrol here.”

“Oh, cool,” said Nell. She waved behind Damian. “Hey Colin.”

Before Damian could correct her, Colin impressed him by chiming in. “Abuse,” he said, grinning at her. “Only codenames.”

“Oh, shit, sorry!”

“It’s OK,” murmured Damian, going back to the laptop. “Is Jabberwock coming?”

“I haven’t heard from her,” answered Ellen, shrugging. “But I imagine if she was, she’d be picking up, um,” she gave a pointed pause, “you-know-who on her way over.”

“Who?” asked Damian.

“Voldemort,” said Nell, giggling.

He looked around at Colin, expecting an answer. Colin made a beckoning gesture with one finger, and Damian went over to him and leaned in. “Niloufar,” he whispered.

Damian pulled away, frowning. “Niloufar?” he echoed.

Colin took great pleasure in going, “Shh! Codenames only!”

“I don’t know who that is,” said Damian honestly. “Do they have a codename?”

“Not yet,” answered Nell, taking a seat on one of the desks. “She said she liked Angel or something, I think.”

“No, it wasn’t Angel,” Ellen said thoughtfully. “It was something Muslim I think. I can’t remember right now.”

Damian hesitated for a moment, then said to Ellen, “Whether or not Jabberwock brings her, can you send me her information later? We’ll do a background check.”

Ellen watched him for a moment, but beneath the scarlet mask her expression was indecipherable. “I can relay it to Oracle, if that’s what you mean.”

It wasn’t exactly, but it would do. He nodded. “Now. Let’s get to business. Abuse, would you brief your teammates on the case?”

Quickly, Colin got back to business. He did a decent job, though Damian interjected a few times with details that seem to have slipped Colin’s mind. Nell, in her caped eggplant-colored Spoiler costume, sat on one of the desks, whereas Ellen, her crimson-and-black uniform, took a seat, leaning forward over the desk thoughtfully. Her body language was tight and measured, inscrutable. When his mind wandered Damian found his gaze occasionally drawn to her, though it wasn’t really in attraction so much as curiosity. He still wondered exactly what she had done to prove herself to his father, who trusted her far beyond any other member of this burgeoning team.

The specifics of the case were this: Joseph Fremont, seventeen years old, white male, five-foot-eight inches, approximately a hundred and ninety pounds, had according to his roommate never made it back to his bedroom on the night of November the thirtieth, and had the following morning been discovered dead one-point-eight miles away from campus. They were still waiting on the physical evidence, but Robin had called them all together tonight so they could hit the ground running. Colin’s revelation that Joseph Fremont might have been dealing was kind of disappointing to Damian, as it suggested that the kid might’ve just been sampling the product and accidentally overdosed. Not that he wished a murder had occurred or anything, but a good old-fashioned mystery would’ve been perfect training for the young team.

When Colin told Ellen and Nell about the drugs, sparing them the details about how he knew, Ellen spoke up. “If he was dealing and there were no external signs of a struggle, don’t you think he probably just OD’d?” “Perhaps,” said Damian, chiming in from his spot in the shadows behind Colin. “But we have to consider all the possibilities.”

“What if his tox results come back positive for a shitload of heroin?” asked Nell.

“Then we’ll rule it an overdose,” Damian told her, feeling like he was talking to a bunch of infants, “unless we find evidence that suggests otherwise.”

“But what if it’s an actual murder but someone just like coerced him into taking a shitload of heroin so he died?”

“That’s why we look into anyone who might have motive,” said Damian. “Even if this looks cut-and-dried on the surface, if there’s someone who would benefit from Joseph Fremont’s death, then we tug on that string. Tug hard enough, and something always unravels.”

“The Fremonts are Wall Street money,” Ellen commented offhandedly. “I’m sure a lot of people would have motivation to target their family.”

“Right,” said Damian. “Ember, you look into potential suspects. Colin, dig into the drug connection. Maybe something went awry with his supplier.”

Nell asked, “What can I do?”

“Stay plugged in to our contact in the coroner’s office,” Damian told her. “We need to know what killed Joseph Fremont. Until we have that, there’s only so much we can do.”

“So you’re saying all we can do now is wait.”

“No,” said Damian coolly, turning to Ellen. That blank red mask was starting to bother him, making it impossible to read her. “I’m saying you can look into potential suspects so we can get ahead of the game.”

She watched him for a moment. “So you do think it’s a murder, though?”

“I think it’s suspicious that our victim wound up two miles away from campus, in the middle of the woods,” Damian told her. “And I find it unlikely that no one knows any specifics about what occurred. Our job is to apply pressure until the cracks become evident, and then plug the leaks when we find them.”

Ellen ran her hands down her long braid. “I think that’s a mixed metaphor,” she said.

It wasn’t, though it admittedly was kind of clumsy. He ignored this comment, turning instead to Abuse. “I’ll find somewhere more secure to use as headquarters. In the meantime, collect your research. Remember to keep it all under secure encryption using the tech I gave you.”

Nell raised her hand. Damian looked at her, then did a double take, then Ellen reached out and pulled her wrist downwards. “You don’t have to raise your hand,” Ellen told her.

“Oh,” said Nell. “OK, sorry, but sidenote, are we allowed to use the computers you gave us for like, other things?”

“They’re yours,” said Damian. “Use them for whatever you need. All of your encrypted files go to a drive that Batman and I can access, but other than that you can do what you want with it.” “OK, cool,” said Nell. “I was just asking because I use it for homework.”

Colin threw his arm around Damian’s shoulders, hanging onto his neck. Poking him in the ribs, he told Nell, “Just ask Robin for another separate homework computer, that’s what I did.”

Though Nell’s eyes lit up, Ellen spoke before she could. Leaning back in her seat, she said smoothly, “I’m sure Robin doesn’t have the time to play sugar daddy to all of us, Abuse.”

“No,” agreed Damian. “Fortunately Batman plays the part very well for you, doesn’t he, Ember?” There was a silence so deep they could hear a pin drop. Damian felt belligerent and annoyed, and didn’t immediately regret the comment. He knew the grants and the scholarships and the job offers that had been extended to Ellen Nayar, and he didn’t think she had any right to sound so dismissive of his family’s generosity.

Though Damian could not Ellen’s gaze behind her mask, she turned her head away from him first, indicative of breaking first.

When she and Nell left, Ellen did not say a farewell to Robin.

---

NAME: Danielle Little ALIAS: Spoiler DATE OF BIRTH: 29 June 1997 BLOOD TYPE: O+ (Full Medical History) EMERGENCY CONTACT: Rhonda Holmes Little, Mother (Contact) AFFILIATIONS: Batgirl (Formerly), Team Ember EVAL: Promising but untrained. Investigative instincts are excellent, but more practice is necessary. Very young and inexperienced, though a strong devotion to local community and neighborhoods is a good foundation for future efforts. Potentially a place for her in the Batman Inc. hierarchy whether as an official agent or otherwise.

---

As dusk arrived the next night, Bruce sat in front of the computer in the Cave as Damian worked on some complex tech designs at the workstation below the computer hub. There was a comfortable quiet apart from the usual whir of machinery and fluttering wings of the bats in the eaves. All at once, the silence was broken by a gentle beeping notification coming from both the computer and Damian’s phone.

Not a moment later, Damian was skipping the stairs two at a time, practically sprinting to the locker room area where his uniform was kept. “Oracle,” said Bruce, hitting a button on the panel before him, “get Jim on the line.” Damian emerged, in full uniform except for his mask though his cap was only half fastened and his boots weren’t laced yet, while Bruce was still on the line with Commissioner Gordon. “I’ll look into it personally,” he was saying. “I’ll be in touch.”

Bruce closed the line and turned around in his seat to look at Damian, who stood there defiantly. He pointed at Bruce with one accusatory finger, then began, “You promised-”

Stoically, Bruce replied, “This could be very dangerous, Damian, and it would be irresponsible to let a bunch of inexperienced teenagers deal with something of this magnitude.”

“You promised,” repeated Damian stubbornly. “You told me this would be our jurisdiction, and that you would allow us freedom to pursue this mission on our own time.”

“Us?” echoed Bruce mildly. “So as soon as the mission interests you, it becomes us rather than them?”

Rolling his eyes, Damian headed down to the garage below, where his motorcycle was kept. Raising his voice to be heard, he called, “I’m their leader, so-”

“Ember’s their leader.”

Damian stopped on the staircase, then went back up so he could look at his father. “I’m their leader,” he said again, offended.

Bruce shook his head. “This team is designed to be closer to the ground than we are. You don’t have their experience when it comes to the city itself.”

“I patrol the city every single night,” Damian protested. “I know it just fine.”

“That may very well be true, but you still don’t have their urban expertise.”

“Urb-?” Damian broke off suspiciously, watching his father. Then he leaned against the rail of the stairs slightly and asked, “Is this a race thing?”

Bruce glanced around at him, an eyebrow raised. “A what thing?”

“Are you being,” he paused, didn’t know what else to call it, so went with, “…racist?”

“What are you talking about?”

“Urban is just one of those dog whistle words that means people of color,” explained Damian; he was taking a sociology class at Princeton, and he’d just read a chapter of a book about this. “And since this team is mostly that, you emphasizing that their street smarts and inner city experience feels almost as if…” he trailed off, feeling suddenly uncertain under his father’s gaze. “I’m just saying,” he said, unwilling to admit his doubt. “You may want to…think about the way you talk about them, is all.”

Bruce watched his son, surprised. Despite the fact that Damian’s words weren’t exactly flattering, he felt an odd stirring of pride. He nodded. “Alright,” he said. “I will.”

There was an awkward sort of pause, and then Damian headed once more down the stairs. Though it was just barely dark outside, he took his motorcycle to the hidden entrance to the Bunker, where he did some minor rearrangements and set up what basically amounted to parental controls on the computers. Satisfied, he alerted the entire team that they would be meeting beneath Wayne Tower tonight.

This time, Jordan and Niloufar were there first. “Ms. Ghorbani,” he said, holding out his hand to the girl in the headscarf, “a pleasure to meet you.”

Niloufar shook his hand warily. “We’ve met before,” she told him shortly. “One time you and Batman saved a school bus I was in from tipping off a bridge.”

When in uniform, Damian got comments like that all the time. Though a school bus falling off a bridge was far more memorable than most of the everyday encounters he had with citizens of Gotham, it still didn’t ring a bell. “That sounds like us,” he told her, with a killer smile. She just watched him suspiciously.

Jordan, who had been using her powers of flight constantly since they manifested, floated near the low ceiling of the Bunker. “I don’t like it in here,” she said. “Feels cramped.”

“It’s merely temporary, Jabberwock,” Damian informed her, heading to the computer. “It’s not an ideal location for your team, but I needed some place with the technical capabilities to fill you in completely on the status of your mission.”

“Our mission?” Jordan echoed. “You mean the dead kid from Brentwood?”

Damian nodded, typing something into the computer. “Joseph Fremont.”

Niloufar asked, “Is this about the results from the tox report?”

The file on the computer unopened, Damian stopped and turned around to face her. “What do you know about the tox report?” he asked her.

“I’ve heard things,” she said shortly.

He eyed her, then began, “How do you-?” but before he could finish, the doors to the garage opened and Ellen arrived with Nell and Colin.

“Hey,” said Nell breathlessly, her laptop underneath her arm. “I might have to leave early, I have a lot of homework to do.”

“That’s fine,” Damian said, looking past Niloufar and Jordan at her. “There’ve been some new developments in the case and I just need to make sure we’re all on the same page about it.”

“Hey,” said Jordan, floating upside-down, her ponytail hanging down from the back of her head, “I have a question.”

Suppressing a roll of his eyes, Damian looked at her. “Yes?”

“This kid OD’d, right?”

“Yes,” repeated Damian, “and I’m about to get into the specifics of what exactly he-”

“But like. Why should we care about him?”

The silence that followed this comment deepened considerably, broken only by the hum and whir of the high tech machinery surrounding them. “Jabberwock,” he said, “if you have to ask that question, then maybe you shouldn’t be here.”

Before Damian had even finished this sentence, Jordan was shaking her head. “No,” she said. “I mean like, specifically him. There’s a dozen cases of this same thing every day on my block, and no one’s investigating that shit.”

Damian explained, “This death occurred in your team’s jurisdiction-” but Ellen interrupted him.

“She has a point,” she said, glancing at Damian. “It does seem a little biased that we suddenly care about an overdose as soon as it happens to a rich white kid. And I have wondered before why Batman decided we don’t get jurisdiction,” she framed it in air quotes, “over our own neighborhoods, especially because Jordan’s right, this kind of thing happens all the time in the city.”

“OK,” said Damian, trying very hard to exercise patience, “well. When one of your neighbors overdoses on recreationally-developed Joker Venom, then perhaps we can look into that.”

A frisson of excitement went through the Bunker, eyebrows raising in surprise. “Joker Venom?” echoed Colin, sounding almost delighted. “Joey got offed by the Joker?”

“No,” said Ellen, a slight frown on her face. When she watched Damian as intently as she was doing now, he could almost tune out the scar, imagine exactly what she might look like without it. “Robin said – recreationally-developed? You think this kid was using Joker Venom to get high?”

Damian nodded. “It gets worse.”

Seated at one of the specimen analysis desks, her laptop computer already open, Nell asked, “How could it get worse than the Joker?”

Damian pulled something up on the computer screen. “A few years ago – back with the previous Batman – there was a case that involved a drug called diaxamene which was reverse-engineered to attack the part of the brain which controls emotion, blunting the ability to feel empathy.”

“Turn them into sociopaths,” Jordan said, sounding almost impressed.

“Psychopaths,” Damian corrected. “But, yes. Essentially.”

“Diaxamene,” echoed Niloufar, her gaze far away behind her thick glasses. “That sounds familiar. Didn’t it have something to do with a baby formula recall?”

Clearly surprised that Niloufar knew this, Damian stopped short and looked around at her. “Yes,” he said, nodding. “The perp claimed to have dosed baby formula, though no evidence could confirm this. There was a recall just in case, though, which led to a shortage.”

“Yeah, I remember,” said Niloufar, nodding. At Damian’s curious look, she finally added, “My younger brother was a baby at the time. I remember formula got really expensive.”

Without replying to this, Damian nodded, then looked at her for a moment longer.

Then he returned to the computer screen. “It looks like small amounts of Joker Venom were added to the reverse-engineered diaxamene. Because Joker Venom produces effects similar to psychopathy before resulting in death, diluting it with the diaxamene can reproduce the same feeling while decreasing its lethality.”

“He still died, though,” Nell pointed out.

Damian nodded. “It’s called an overdose for a reason, Spoiler.”

“Oh,” she said. “Right.”

“The modified diaxamene is a pharmaceutical, though,” said Niloufar, considering this. “It’s supposed to function long-term, not for a temporary high.”

“Exactly,” said Damian. “For a young person like Joseph Fremont, the mild Joker Venom would have a slight narcotic effect while the diaxamene, if he even knew it was part of the drug, would be – nothing more than a placebo. At first.”

Ellen nodded. “So what his death tells us,” she began, “is that this drug is on the market. That people are using it, and the more they use it, the more psychopathic they become.”

“Yes,” said Damian, feeling an odd rush of pride at how quickly the team put this together. “That’s the real problem here. Someone’s pulling the same stunt as the baby formula plan, but aging up their demographic.”

“Why not cut it with coke?” asked Jordan, seriously. “Or dope or something?”

“’Cause it’s Joker Venom,” Ellen said, looking over at her as if this were obvious. “It has sex appeal.”

Nell giggled, and Colin asked, “What about the Joker says sex appeal to you?”

“Ember’s right,” said Damian, shutting the others up. “How many of you have seen firsthand some result of the Joker’s crimes?”

Everyone except for Niloufar raised their hand without hesitation, but Niloufar eventually followed suit, making a noncommittal kinda sorta gesture with her hand.

“Joseph Fremont never lived in the city,” Damian continued. “If you live in the wealthy suburbs your whole life, the Joker is something of a myth, and as a result anything with some proximity to him has a certain thrill to it – like forbidden fruit. It’s the perfect new drug to introduce to a privileged private school like Brentwood.”

“Plus rich white boys are already a little psychopathic,” Jordan added.

Damian decided to give her that one. “And that.”

Despite this, Ellen didn’t seem fully satisfied. “But no one bothers to do a full tox report on a bum who OD’d in an alley in Midtown,” she pointed out. “This drug could be way more rampant than we thought.”

Considering this, Damian answered, “True, but we haven’t seen the resultant wave of crime or violence you’d expect from that.” “That’s assuming the drug has been out there for long enough. And Gotham streets are always full of crime and violence. How would you be able to tell the difference?” He shook his head. “There’s no difference on patrol.”

“You haven’t been on patrol all that often lately, though,” Colin said fairly, tapping his chin thoughtfully. “You’ve been with your other team a lot.”

Inwardly, Damian cursed Colin’s lack of filter. Ellen’s eyebrow cocked, but it was Nell who asked, “What other team?”

Jordan grinned at him. “Are you cheating on us, Robin?”

“It’s the Teen Titans,” he said stoically. “Yes, I am frequently away with them. But Batman and Oracle keep a careful record of nightly criminal activity, which has not shown any major spikes lately.”

“What’s Superboy like?” asked Jordan, legs crossed, sitting in air. “Just like a mini Superman?”

Chris was in fact very dissimilar to his adoptive father, so Damian replied, with a hint of annoyance, “No, actually. Now if we can get back to business-”

“What about Arsenal?” asked Nell, from her computer. “She seems cool.”

With a knowing grin, Colin added, “Not as cool as Impulse, huh, Robin?” Damian shot him a dirty look. “Let’s try to focus, shall we?”

“Ohh,” said Nell, laughing. “Wait, Robin, is she your girlfriend?”

For fuck’s sake. As he opened his mouth to shut this down for good, Ellen mercifully came to his rescue. “Come on,” she said, sounding sympathetic. “Don’t tease him, Spoiler, that’s mean.”

Which, naturally, set his blood boiling again. “Ember, please,” he told her. “It’s fine. Now. Back to the case?”

She gave him a wry, enigmatic smile, but nodded all the same, gesturing for him to continue.

His face felt warm, and he felt stupid for allowing himself to feel even the slightest bit self-conscious. “Some excellent thinking happened tonight, team, so thank you for that. Now that we all know where we stand, it’s time to get serious about this case.”

Doubtfully, Colin asked, “We weren’t serious until just now?”

“I mean we have a lead,” said Damian quickly. “That’s all. Niloufar, Jabberwock, I want you two looking into other recent overdose cases throughout the city, see if we’re missing something.”

“Seraph,” said Niloufar.

Damian blinked. “I’m sorry?”

“Seraph,” repeated Niloufar. “That’s my codename. I mean, it was Hafaza, but then we figured that was a little harder for people to remember and the key to a good codename is its memorability, right? Like, branding.” She paused, a little awkward. “So. Seraph.”

He watched her for a moment, then nodded. “Alright. Seraph, then. Usually the codename is accompanied by a uniform, though.”

Apologetically, she admitted, “I’m probably not…super useful in the field.” At Damian’s expressions, she explained, “I failed P.E. last year.”

Damian only had the vaguest notion what P.E. was, but he waved it aside. “Fine,” he said. “If you do need a uniform, Batman and I can help. Abuse,” he said, turning to Colin. “Have you dug up anything else at Brentwood?”

Colin shook his head. “Not really? I think Joey’s roommate was clean, actually. He wasn’t dealing anything hard, just weed. I lit up with him the other day and he told me everything. He’s kind of fucked up over it actually, it’s kind of sad.”

“Great,” said Damian. “Generally I would request that you try to avoid partaking in illicit substances, but otherwise, sure.”

“Robin,” said Jordan, with a grin. “C’mon. It’s just weed.”

“OK,” said Damian, ignoring this. “Keep pushing, Abuse. If you need backup, call me.”

“Or me,” offered Niloufar. When Damian glanced at her, she added, “I go to Brentwood too. So I can help with that.”

This was a relief; Colin was competent enough in the field, but his investigative work was still spotty. Damian had been considering an undercover mission in Brentwood himself to get the intel they needed, but if Niloufar also attended the school then she might be able to bolster Colin’s mission. “Perfect,” he said. “Seraph, you get double duty – work with both Jabberwock and Abuse.”

Niloufar practically glowed at the extra responsibility.

“Ember, Spoiler, you’re going to be investigating the Joker connection,” he continued. “Ember, I understand you have some familiarity with Arkham? This is your chance to demonstrate that. Meanwhile, I’ll-”

Just then, he realized Nell’s hand was up in the air again.

“Spoiler,” he said tiredly. “I’ve told you this a dozen times, you don’t need to raise your hand to ask permission to speak.” “Oh,” she said, lowering her arm. “Sorry! I didn’t want to interrupt.”

“It’s fine,” Damian told her, waving this away. “What is it?”

“Would it be possible for me to sit this one out? I’m failing geometry.”

Damian blinked at her. “You’re failing what?” he asked.

“Geometry,” she repeated. “Tenth grade math.”

Damian, who had mastered geometry when he was seven, felt suddenly and abruptly out of his depth. “Oh,” he said. “Yes, of course. That’s fine. All of you, never hesitate to tell me if you feel like you’re taking on too much. It’s fine. Civilian responsibilities come first.”

There was an awkward sort of pause.

Then he restarted, “Ember, I suppose that means I’ll be with you. We’ll also look at the previous case regarding diaxamene, but I’ll need a few days to round up my resources on that. I’ll contact you when I’m ready.”

“Fine,” said Ellen. “Anything else you need to update us on?”

Thoughtfully, Damian looked back at the screen. “No, I don’t think so. We’re dealing with a high tech trafficking ring by the docks again so if any of you find any unfamiliar weaponry or anything let me or Oracle know. Oh,” he said, turning around to face them again. “And I suppose I should warn you about something.”

They all leaned in a little, as if intrigued by the hint of danger.

Almost regretfully, Damian informed them all, “Batman is likely going to try and edge in on this case. He takes everything involving the Joker very personally, so I can almost guarantee he’ll try to take over. At the very least he’ll try to insert himself in an observational role.”

“That’s not so bad,” countered Jordan. “Batman’s welcome to observationally roll me whenever he likes.” Colin laughed, obviously in agreement.

Damian tried to keep his expression level. “My point is,” he restarted, “this is your mission and you all can take care of it perfectly well without his help. Don’t let him take this one from you.” He paused, looking around at them. “So. We’re all clear?”

“Super clear,” agreed Colin. “I’m gonna head back to school and get a jump on this.”

“Hold on,” said Niloufar, her gaze swiveling around towards him. “That’s not fair, I don’t board at school so I won’t be able to help out until tomorrow.”

“Um, I just said get a jump on it,” Colin pointed out. “I didn’t say I’d solve absolutely everything so you don’t have anything to do.”

“Abuse is right,” added Damian. “He can probably get a lot more done after hours than you can during classroom time. I’m sure he’ll fill you in on any developments in the morning.”

Niloufar shot a glare towards Colin, but he shrugged and relented. “Yeah, for sure.”

“We’ll get started, then,” said Jordan. “If we find anything out we’ll ping you or share it on the vigilante cloud or whatever.”

“Thank you,” said Damian, as Jordan and Niloufar began to leave. “Good luck.”

After them Colin headed out to return to Brentwood and Ellen, the only one of the team cleared for patrol on her own, also took off. Damian went over to where Nell still worked on her laptop. “If you need a tutor,” he said, peering over her shoulder, “I’m happy to help.”

“You kind of already are,” she told him distractedly, focused on her work.

He raised an eyebrow. “How so?”

Glancing at him, she explained, “I’m going to the Neon Knights center in my neighborhood for tutoring, so it’s cool. I guess I meant your family’s already helping out.”

Damian stared at her for a moment. Though he knew rationally that the entire team had enough information at this point to deduce Batman’s identity and therefore his own, it was still a new and unfamiliar feeling, like danger. It set him on edge, despite the fact that they never would have let Nell or the others into the game in the first place if they didn’t trust them enough to be discreet.

“Sure,” he said, straightening up. “Though I shouldn’t have to remind you not to talk like that when we’re in uniform.”

This seemed to confuse her, as she finally took pause to glance up at him. “But…nobody’s here.” “I know, but it’s a matter of developing a habit. If the mask is on,” he pointed to his face, “then I’m Robin. Only Robin. Do you understand me?”

She nodded. “I got you.”

“Good.” He hesitated, then added, “If you’d like you can stay here to do your work. I can program everything to shut down and lock up after you leave.” This too drew her gaze away from the computer. She looked at Damian with big eyes, surprised and a little touched. “Wow,” she said. “For real? That would be super great.”

“OK.” He shrugged, feeling a slight twinge of self-consciousness he normally only felt around Iris. He tried to push that out of his mind. “It’s no problem. And again, let me know if you need help.”

“Yeah,” she said, beaming at him. “I will.”

---

NAME: Jordan Aguilar Joyce ALIAS: Wonder Girl / Jabberwock DATE OF BIRTH: 17 March 1995 BLOOD TYPE: B+ (Full Medical History) EMERGENCY CONTACT: Maya Aguilar, Sister (Contact) AFFILIATIONS: Wonder Woman, Team Ember EVAL: Flight, augmented senses and strength from Themysciran heritage. Will follow-up with Diana. Deeply resistant to authority, but loyal to team. Need to develop discipline before regular patrol is instated.

---

“So Abuse and Seraph managed to get a lead on the Brentwood supplier – turns out a few of the older boys had been recruited by someone called the Dealer.”

“Not very creative,” replied Ellen through her commlink, peering down at the city from the corner of a tall roof.

“Yes,” answered Damian, “particularly because we dealt with someone using that name a few years ago, around the same time as the diaxamene case. In fact, the man who reverse-engineered the diaxamene actually bought outdated Joker Venom from the Dealer.”

“Oh,” said Ellen, a little taken aback. “Then – that should sort of blow the case open, right? It’s the same guy.”

“Impossible,” said Damian grimly. “The man in question has been locked up in a mental facility for years.”

“In Arkham?”

“No. I believe it’s somewhere in Chicago, far away from here. Besides, the version of the Joker Venom found in this new drug isn’t old or decayed at all, it’s very new, something we haven’t quite seen before, impossible to build up a resistance to. Enough of it would probably poison even the Joker himself.”

“If our guy can reverse-engineer a prescription drug, I’m sure he could figure out how to update Joker Venom. And if he’s not at Arkham why are we even going there in the first place?”

“Because,” Damian answered shortly, “sometimes you have to play with vermin to sniff out a rat.” This was cryptic and annoying, and beneath her mask Ellen rolled her eyes. “OK. I can meet you there in an hour if-”

“No need,” he said, just as the sleek and quiet hum of an energy-efficient stealth motorcycle came buzzing down the alley beneath the building on which Ellen stood. Robin stopped the bike, got off, and waved at her.

She let out a sigh, then made her way down on the fire escape, jumping the last few feet. “How did you know where I was?” she asked, as he got back onto the motorcycle.

“The tracer Batman put in your suit,” he answered; when she gave him a look, refusing to get on the bike with him, he grinned a little and added, “I’m kidding. But only a little. When you’re on a direct line, Oracle can pinpoint your location. If you toggled a private line or turned off your commlink, we’d lose you.”

“Wouldn’t want that,” muttered Ellen, finally relenting and climbing onto the back of the motorcycle, behind him. She sat further back than was entirely necessary.

They went most of the way in relative silence. They’d worked enough together – Damian had spent enough time training with her – that it wasn’t particularly awkward, but there was an odd degree of discomfort that neither of them were used to. When they made it to Arkham, stowing the bike in the woods behind it, Damian asked, “That reminds me, when are you going to get a motorbike of your own? You can’t rely on rides from Spoiler and Abuse and me forever.”

“I don’t have my license,” she explained. She wanted to add, And I can’t afford one, but she knew that he would offer and insist and that would be unfortunate.

“Oh,” said Damian, as if this hadn’t occurred to him. “Well. You don’t really need one, in our line of work.” “Thanks,” she said, though her smile was not visible beneath her mask. “But I’m already toeing the line as is. I’d prefer to break as few laws as possible.”

“She says,” he added, grinning slightly as they headed towards Gotham, “as we break into a private mental facility in order to interrogate a patient.”

“He’s a criminal,” she replied smoothly. “Not a patient.”

Damian shrugged. “They all are.”

This wasn’t true, and Ellen wanted to fight him on it, but this wasn’t the time or the place. With the help of Robin’s gadgets and expertise, making it into Arkham was easier than it had ever been for Ellen – he did it with such nonchalance and finesse that it seemed positively casual for him. That sort of annoyed her.

They made it to the Wayne Ward, which is where the most dangerous criminals were held, cut off from the rest of the world by thick steel doors. Somewhere in one of the cages, someone sang a children’s song. “Little Bunny Foo-Foo, hopping through the forest…”

Another inmate moaned, “Shut the fuck up.”

Damian brought her to an unmarked cell that looked no different from any of the others, and put his hand on the door, behind which the Joker still sang. “Scooping up the field mice and boppin’ them on the head…”

Quietly, he asked, “You ready?” She nodded, but didn’t speak. Looking away from her, he punched a series of numbers into the keypad by the door, and it slid open.

He gestured for her to enter, and she did. He followed behind her, and the steel door clanged behind them.

A pale man in an Arkham uniform sat cross-legged facing the wall across from them. “Down came the good fairy, and she said…”

“Joker,” said Damian.

The Joker’s head lolled back on his shoulders, his dirty green hair hanging down from his scalp. He did not look around.

“Ah,” he began, his voice sickly sweet. “It’s my second-favorite little birdie. You’d be third favorite,” he said, almost reasonably, “but the dead one came back, and that’s no fun.”

“Joker,” repeated Damian. “What do you know about a new version of your Venom?”

Though he still did not turn around, the Joker made an unpleasant sound in the back of his throat, as if displeased. “None of that faker stuff. I’m no street corner dealer, little Robbie! I only have big plans, big shows, big-” he threw out both arms theatrically; in his left, he held a crowbar stained with blood, “-drama.”

Without hesitating, Damian moved forward and grabbed hold of the crowbar, kicking in the Joker’s elbow as he did so. As Damian inspected it, the Joker started to laugh, then collapsed and rolled around on the floor so he was facing the door.

“Where’d you get this?” asked Damian stoically, raising the crowbar.

“Beirut,” answered the Joker.

Damian shook the crowbar. “Whose blood is this?”

“Yours,” answered the Joker. “Robin’s. Doesn’t matter which one, best not to get attached,” he looked past Damian, as if addressed Ellen directly, “they’re just gonna break your heart and move on. They always do.”

Uncertainly, Ellen glanced at Damian, who only stared at the Joker.

He raised the crowbar, and hit the Joker across the face with it. Again, the Joker laughed. “What do you mean that fake stuff?” asked Damian. “So you know someone’s dealing.”

“Everyone’s always dealing,” Joker answered, with a shrug. “You know, dealing, coping, the human condition.” “How do you know about the drugs?”

The Joker lunged suddenly, throwing himself at Damian, grabbing hold of the crowbar tightly. Ellen instinctively moved to help, but Damian dodged, gripping the crowbar tightly and wrenching him away so that the Joker lost his balance and fell, half laying on the ground, still clutching the crowbar. He laughed and laughed.

“The drugs?” he screeched, ecstatic. “You mean the Xanax? Oh, no, you mean the painkillers? Or are you talking about the meth, because that was what really made her spiral, huh? Just took a little while to get there, step by prescription step, and then all of the sudden bam!” His laughter turned higher, more frantic. He held up one hand in the gesture of a gun and pointed it right at Ellen’s face. “Right in the kisser!”

Horrified, Ellen stared at him, frozen. It took Damian a moment to realize what was going on, and then he kicked the Joker square in the chest, sending him reeling back to the floor. “I miss Divya!” he called, as Damian, turned around returned to the door, taking Ellen’s wrist in his hand as he did so. “She was so much fun! Good stories! She missed you bad you know, she missed her beautiful son, her beautiful little-”

A name came out of Joker’s mouth that Damian didn’t know, but he could guess what it was. “Come on,” he murmured to Ellen, who said nothing, her face obscured and made unreadable by her mask. As the Joker laughed and laughed and laughed, Damian led Ellen out of the Joker’s cell, ensured the door was closed tight, and they retreated out of Arkham. After a while Ellen pulled her hand away from Damian’s. He said nothing until they were outside.

In the darkness, he turned to her heavily.

“I’m sorry,” he said. “I shouldn’t have brought you in there.”

“No,” said Ellen, shaking her head. “It’s fine. I had to meet him eventually.”

“I don’t know how he knew that about you.”

“It’s fine,” repeated Ellen, with a little more urgency. She tried to smile at him from underneath the mask, but obviously he couldn’t see it.

Damian watched her cautiously for a moment longer, then suddenly jerked his head around, obviously hearing something at his commlink. Then his gaze lengthened past Ellen, behind her, and under his breath he muttered, “For fuck’s sake-”

Despite the fact that Batman, from behind Ellen, should not have been able to hear this, he growled, “Language, Robin,” and Damian resisted the urge to roll his eyes.

Ellen turned around uncertainly; she had only very infrequently been in the presence of both Batman and Robin, and didn’t really have the hang of their dynamic yet.

Batman stood impassively before them both, watching them. “Are you here to talk to the Joker?” he asked, as if reserving judgment.

“We already did,” Damian told him. “He didn’t have anything useful to say.”

Thinking this was underselling the encounter a little, Ellen added, “He seemed to know a version of his Venom was being used on the streets,” Damian gave her an urgent look, like betrayal, so she continued, “but Robin’s right. He didn’t sound like he was involved in or even really approved of its production.”

Batman gestured at the crowbar in Damian’s hand. “What’s that?”

“A crowbar,” answered Damian.

Batman only watched him.

Damian held it up. “A man known as the Dealer tried to auction off an item just like this a few years ago,” he said, almost defiantly. “Nightwing brought it home, but he never entered it into evidence. He just got rid of it.”

“Why?” asked Batman.

“So you wouldn’t find out,” said Damian, “for obvious reasons.”

Ellen wasn’t sure what that obvious reason was, but she just glanced in between Robin and Batman, sensing the tension there.

Stubbornly, Damian continued, “The Joker was a red herring last time and I believe it’s the same thing this time around. We should be focusing our efforts elsewhere.”

“Hn.” Batman headed past them, towards Arkham. “I’ll talk to the Joker.”

As Batman passed, Robin reached out and physically took hold of his arm. “No,” he said. “You won’t.”

Batman twisted around to look back at Damian, and there was a moment of deadly, pin-drop silence.

“It’s my case,” insisted Damian.

Batman glanced up at Ellen. “It’s her case.”

Beneath her mask, Ellen’s eyebrows shot up. Reluctantly, Damian let go of Batman and turned to her. “Fine,” he said. “Ember. What do you think? Do you want a second opinion on the Joker, or do you think we should be able to proceed on our own from here?”

There was no expression on Batman’s face, but then again Ellen didn’t think there was ever really any discernible expression on Batman’s face. Once more she glanced in between Batman and Robin, before finally admitting, “I…think we should be OK.” To Batman, she said, “I’ve studied your case files and I don’t really think this fits the Joker’s M.O. Right now selling drugs to rich kids sounds a lot more like this Dealer character, or maybe, um, what’s his face, that guy who poisoned the diaxamene.”

Damian winced slightly when she said this and she suddenly feared she’d said too much; maybe there was something he’d been trying to keep from Batman. Though she didn’t really think that was all that smart – Robin’s pride be damned, this was about solving the case, not who got the glory of figuring it out.

Batman watched her for a moment, then nodded. “I expect a mission report,” he said.

“Of course,” responded Damian sourly.

Without looking around, Batman added, “I meant from Ember.”

Damian looked almost ready to blow a gasket, but he kept his mouth shut and nodded. Batman lingered for a moment longer, then swept away.

There was an awkward sort of pause. Damian turned and headed back to where the motorcycle was stowed in the woods. “C’mon,” he said.

She followed him, secretly a little pleased at this indication of Batman’s trust but also not wanting to push Damian at all. It was a weird place to be, staying quiet for fear of hurting Robin’s feelings – but then again, he was only a kid, at least a couple years younger than her. There was no need to be cruel.

A minute or so after he revved the bike and they started heading back towards the city, he asked, “Are you hungry?” His words came through clearly on her commlink, and yet she was still certain she had misheard. “Um. Sure?”

“I know a place,” he continued, taking a sharp left. “Up by Amusement Mile.”

Amusement Mile meant carnival food of some sort probably, which was fine by Ellen. Late at night as it was, the boardwalk was still all lit up neon, but Damian avoided that, heading instead for the less touristy area. There was a little shop – not much more than a booth – where he ordered falafel. Ellen got a kabob. The woman working there spoke warmly with Damian in a language Ellen didn’t know, but eventually she picked up that the woman was refusing to accept payment when Damian tried to pass it over the counter to her. He just grinned and stuffed a twenty dollar bill into the tip jar, and the woman laughed.

They sat together on the rail of the pier, which was already closed for the night. She lifted her mask to eat, then took it off completely, leaving only a domino mask around her eyes.

“Hey,” she said, nudging him a little. “Are you OK?”

He looked around at her, confused. “What? Why?”

“Your dad was kind of harsh on you. He didn’t really need to be, I know you have more experience at this than I do.” For a moment he said nothing, just watching her. Then he looked back down at his falafel wrap. “You shouldn’t refer to him as my father when we’re in the field,” he said. “Things like that are supposed to stay in a civilian context only.”

“Mmm, be careful about that. Everybody knows Robin is either Batman’s son or something a whole lot less wholesome, so I really think you should take what you can get.”

She smiled at him, but he didn’t smile back, only looked at his wrap unhappily.

When he didn’t reply, she too looked down at her food, picking at it. She hadn’t been that hungry, but would’ve felt stupid turning down free food.

Softly, she asked, “How do you think he knew all that about me?”

Damian glanced at her. “Who?” he asked. “The Joker?” She nodded, and he considered this for a moment. “He knows everything about everyone. Don’t take it personally. He knows how to get under everyone’s skin, we’ve all been there.”

“He knew my…” she trailed off. “He knew my mother’s name.” He gave a shrug. “She was in Arkham, right?”

“Yeah, but – not in the Wayne Ward. Not with him.”

“No?” asked Damian, with mild interest. “What was she in for, then?”

Glowering, Ellen muttered, “As if Batman doesn’t have a file with all the sordid details.”

“He doesn’t,” answered Damian. “Or at least not one I have access to.”

For a while, so long that Damian didn’t think she was going to answer, Ellen said nothing. Then, her eyes fixed out across the black water of the ocean, waves lit by moonlight, she said, “She…was transferred. For the Wayne Enterprises drug rehabilitation program.”

“Ah,” said Damian, nodding. “Yes. I understand that whole project was – a massive PR disaster.”

“You could call it that,” Ellen agreed. “It’s what happens when rich people throw money at problems and expect results. At any cost.”

“We didn’t know it was going to go as badly as it did.”

“I know.”

“Arkham’s always been a mess. We really did want to reform it into something good. Something productive.”

“I mean, it was productive,” said Ellen, her voice sharp. “Lobotomizing addicts did help them kick the habit, it just also had the unfortunate side effect of, well, I mean, lobotomizing them.”

There was a short silence. Damian asked, “Is she alright?”

“Kind of,” answered Ellen shortly. “She’ll be in assisted living for the rest of her life.”

“I’m sorry.”

“It’s fine. Probably not even your fault. She OD’d a couple times before, so she wasn’t in great shape to begin with.”

“This can’t be an easy case for you.”

“Why?” she asked, looking at him. “Because it has to do with drugs?” He returned her gaze, then gave a little shrug.

“If I couldn’t handle an overdose now and then, Batman wouldn’t have given me the mask.”

“Why did he?”

Ellen leaned forward slightly, setting aside her food and holding the blank scarlet mask in her hands. She shook her head. “When you figure that out,” she said wryly, glancing at him, “let me know?”

When they finished their food and headed back to Damian’s motorcycle, Ellen nudged him again. “Hey,” she said. “Thanks for not asking.”

He didn’t know what she meant. “Not asking what?”

She gestured across her face, at the diagonal scar there. “If this was what she was in for.”

Damian had of course assumed this, but he had been pointedly trying to ignore the scar at all costs since he met Ellen, so he’d avoided saying it outright. For some reason the scar across her face reminded him of his own hidden scar down the length of his back. How he got that was a sensitive story, and he didn’t imagine Ellen’s was any less sensitive.

He took her back into the city, and they parted ways for patrol.

---

NAME: Ellen Nayar ALIAS: Ember DATE OF BIRTH: 26 August 1993 BLOOD TYPE: A+ (Relevant Medical History) EMERGENCY CONTACT: Kiran Kaur Nayar, Grandmother AFFILIATIONS: Green Arrow II (Former), Team Ember EVAL: Mastery of basic defensive techniques at a young age provides a solid foundation for future training. Has a tendency to fall back on defense when cornered, relying on tools to compensate. Capable of much more but struggling to balance training as well as other civilian commitments; requires more investment both in and out of uniform. Significant pain tolerance. Easily identifiable due to the scar and also hair/body type, any uniform designs must compensate.

Strong field skills, hand-to-hand improving and introduction of nonlethal weapons going well. An apparent preference for the staff though she lacks martial arts training in that area. Sharp mind and eye for puzzles. Potential for leadership role assuming increased confidence in her abilities. Imperative to firm up her loyalties or risk alienation. Family history of addiction.

NOTES: |Robin| Hand to hand is fine but she needs to work on weapons and tech. Uniform needs an upgrade, face mask restricts breathing |Red Hood| She smokes

---

“I have good news,” said Oracle, on the screen, “and bad news.”

“Good news first,” said Nell, at the same time Damian said, “What’s the bad news?”

They looked at each other, and then Damian gestured for Nell to continue. She beamed at him and asked, “Good news?”

“We got a lead on our guy,” said Oracle, a big globular green head taking up the screen in lieu of her real face. “The one who reverse-engineered the diaxamene.”

Ellen sat up a little straighter, alert. “I thought he was in some mental facility somewhere.”

“Yeah,” continued Oracle. “That’s the bad news. I, uh – had a friend in Chicago drop by to see him.”

“Oh?” interrupted Damian, with a tone that sounded unlike him. It was half intrigued, half snide. “Interesting. What kind of friend?”

“Just a friend,” she said snippily.

Damian just made a face, but didn’t protest. Ellen glanced at him, wondering what that was about. “What’d he have to say?”

“That’s just it,” Oracle told them. “It wasn’t our guy, just some decoy checked in under his name.”

“A decoy?” asked Niloufar, a frown on her face. “For how long?”

“Presumably since he checked in,” said Oracle darkly. “Which means James has been out this entire time, no doubt plotting his next step for years.”

At the name, Damian lifted his head slightly, as if surprised she would use it. He leaned against the wall of the Bunker, a little away from the others, his arms crossed over his chest. “James?” asked Colin. “Is that his name?”

“Yeah,” sighed Oracle. “OK, confession time, you guys.” The green icon which represented Oracle disappeared from the screen, replaced with blackness and then suddenly a crystal clear image, as if a window to another room. An older woman with ginger hair and glasses on sat before them, computer glare lighting her up.

She waved at them. “Some of you have met me,” she said, “but I guess it’s time to make this official. My name’s Barbara, but I’m still O in the field, OK?”

Nell and Niloufar looked a little starstruck; even Colin seemed impressed. “OK,” said Jordan, glancing with what may have been a tinge of jealousy over at Niloufar. “What does that have to do with our case?”

With a look that was tight and worried, almost apologetic, Babs continued, “The guy we’re looking for – his name is James Gordon, Jr. His dad is Commissioner Jim Gordon of the GCPD.”

Everyone’s eyebrows raised in surprise, except for Damian. He watched as Jordan asked, “Gordon? The cop?”

“Commissioner,” Damian corrected, echoing Babs.

“Didn’t he retire?” asked Ellen, glancing around at Damian, who shook his head.

“He was on leave a few years ago, that’s all.”

“Yeah,” continued Barbara, nodding. “He took some time off after what happened with James the first time. I mean,” she paused, adding, “first is relative, but – anyway. Here’s where it gets personal. Jim Gordon is my dad.”

In a little bit of awe, Nell asked, “So this guy is your brother?”

Making a face, Babs said, “Kind of.”

“Kind of?” echoed Jordan derisively. “How can it be kind of-?”

Abruptly, Damian noticed Niloufar; she kept glancing in between him and the screen suspiciously, as if she was just putting something together. “What?” he barked at her.

Again, her gaze flickered in between him and Barbara. “You’re Robin,” she said, then pointed at the screen, “she’s Oracle. Aren’t you two…?” she trailed off. “Does that mean Commission Gordon is your…dad…too?”

Damian just stared at her for a moment, arms still crossed over his chest. Then he pointed at the screen, and asked doubtfully, “Do I look like I’m related to her?”

“You could have different moms,” offered Nell helpfully.

Rolling her eyes, Jordan said, “Come on, Nilou, everybody knows Robin’s dad is-”

Both Damian and Babs said, “Jabberwock,” and even Ellen added a scolding, “Jordan.”

At these reprimands, she threw her hands up in surrender. “Nevermind.”

“OK, so,” said Nell, turning back to the computer screen. “If we’re pretty sure it’s this James guy, then we at least know where to start, right? When was the last time time he was in Gotham, and did he have any favorite haunts? We can start there.”

A little taken aback by Nell’s sudden professionalism, Damian snapped his gaze away from her and back to Babs. “Spoiler is right,” he said. “We’ll dig into all the leads we have on James Gordon Jr.”

“This is the guy who poisoned the baby formula, right?” asked Ellen doubtfully, glancing around at the group of them. Returning her gaze to Babs on the screen, she added, “Of course you know more about him than I do, Oracle, but somehow that kind of crazy complicated scheme just doesn’t seem to fit the M.O. here. Why would he downgrade to selling to rich kids?”

“Actually,” piped up Niloufar, “we went through a couple overdose cases in the city over the past few months and came up with three positive reports for the same Joker Venom-diaxamene hybrid that was found in Joseph Fremont’s body.”

“We?” echoed Damian sharply, watching her.

Instead of shrinking under his gaze, as Damian had expected, Niloufar turned to look directly at him, straightening up slightly. “Me and Jor- Jabberwock.”

Damian watched her for a moment, then his eyes flickered over to Jordan, who nodded.

“So it’s not just Brentwood,” said Ellen.

“But it’s still a valid point,” said Babs, tapping her chin thoughtfully. “James is more psychological than that. I don’t really see him getting off on handing out drugs like some kind of common pusher.”

“You think he’s working with someone,” said Damian.

It was Colin who spoke up then, from where he was leaning against one of the specimen analysis tables. “The Dealer,” he said earnestly. They all paused and looked around at him, and he returned their gazes, nodding slightly. “It’s gotta be this Dealer guy,” he continued, “the one who’s been selling to the older kids at Brentwood? That’s his partner.”

Babs considered this, twisting her lips thoughtfully. “That would make sense,” she admitted. “James can’t exactly hang around the schoolyard, but he could manipulate someone younger into working for him. He manufactures, the Dealer distributes.”

“Then that makes things a lot easier,” said Nell. “If this Dealer guy’s younger, then he’s more inexperienced, which means he’s more likely to slip up.”

“Exactly,” said Babs, nodding. “I think the important part now is to split up-”

Behind everyone, Damian cleared his throat loudly.

When the others looked around, he seemed a little apologetic. But on the screen, Babs hesitated for a moment before letting out a short sigh. “It’s your team’s case,” she admitted. “This is really important, you guys. Batman’s really taking a leap of faith by trusting you with this one.”

“They’ve earned it,” said Damian, in protest.

“Yeah, but.” Babs shrugged, her empty hands turned upwards. “This is Batman we’re talking about. It took him about ten years to even start trusting me.”

“Well,” said Jordan shortly, shooting a slightly too-friendly grin up at Babs, “all that means is that Batman’s one stupid motherfucker.” “OK,” said Damian loudly, moving forwardly to the computer. “Thank you, Oracle. Send anything you’ve got our way, we’ll get ahead on this.”

Before she said anything else, something else seemed to occur to Oracle, and she said, “Oh, one more thing. Which one of you keeps saving your math homework to the encrypted file database?”

There was a beat of pause as Damian turned to glance around at his team. Nell was staring up at the screen with her mouth in a little ‘o’ shape; Ellen nudged her. “That – might be me,” she squeaked, obviously humiliated. “I’m sorry! Robin said we could use the computers he gave us for homework!”

Damian tried not to roll his eyes as Babs explained, “You absolutely can, but you don’t need to put it in the encrypted file drive. Just leave it on your desktop or something so it doesn’t get uploaded to our databases.”

Mortified, Nell nodded. “Sorry,” she said, again.

“It’s fine,” Babs told her. “Anyway, I’m here if you guys need anything. Keep me updated.”

“We will,” promised Damian, and then the screen before them went blank. In the white glow of the Bunker, he turned around to face them all. “Jabberwock, Abuse, Spoiler,” he began, with no hesitation, “you three need to fan out, comb the city for James Gordon Jr. He’s got to be hiding somewhere. Take a look at the information Oracle sent, and then head out. This is our top priority for the time being. Ember,” he added, turning to her, “you’re with me.”

Snidely, Jordan muttered, “Wow, what a surprise.”

Glancing at her then back at Ember, he explained, “We need to figure out who this Dealer person is. If he’s dealing in Gotham, then it can’t hurt to check in with Red Hood.”

Already, Ellen was shaking her head. “Hood doesn’t let his people deal to kids,” she told Damian. “If the Dealer’s been selling to Brentwood students-”

“Based on Seraph’s intel, he’s been dealing on the streets as well. Anyway, I’m not saying Red Hood will know who the Dealer is, just that he may be able to point us in the direction of any suspicious activity lately.”

Ellen considered this, then nodded. “Is he in town?”

Damian nodded. Earlier that week the entire family had gathered to celebrate the final night of Hanukkah; Bruce wasn’t particularly religious, but as he grew older he started to take every opportunity he could to gather everyone under one roof. This had been the first Hanukkah celebration at the Manor Jason had attended since before his death. He had spent most of the night messing around with Damian and Cass, more or less refusing to talk to Bruce directly. All things considered, it went well.

Anyway, Damian knew that Jason was still in Gotham because he’d been in a group chat with him, Cass, and Stephanie since. Steph, offended that she hadn’t been invited, had been alternatively demanding all the details and simultaneously assuring them she wouldn’t even have gone anyway.

Instructing the others to review Oracle’s information then spread out across the city, he made contact with Jason before riding out into the dark streets with Ellen on his motorcycle behind him. “Hey,” she said, her commlink transmitting her voice clearly into Damian’s ear despite the rushing wind, “what’s your deal with Red Hood?” He didn’t answer right away. “What do you mean?”

“He’s, like. One of you guys, right?”

“Oh,” said Damian, taking a sharp right turn that nearly scraped the side of their legs against the street. He had thought she was speaking emotionally, as if she could detect faint strains of annoyance he thought he’d gotten past. But Ellen knew his identity and that of his father, so he wasn’t shy about admitting relation. “He’s my brother,” he told her, his voice a whisper in her ear. They entered the old block of Midtown, edging into Red Hood territory. “Adopted brother, actually, not that it really matters.”

Ellen knew vaguely of Damian Wayne’s adopted brother, but she hadn’t realized he and Red Hood were one and the same. “Damn,” she said. “The papers would have a field day if they realized the founder of Neon Knights was a drug lord on the side.”

This took Damian by surprise; he glanced back at her, confused, and then realization dawned on his face. With a laugh, he slowed the motorcycle, drawing close to their destination. “No, not that brother. Red Hood is older than him.”

After a beat of hesitation, Ellen asked, “I thought the other guy was Nightwing?”

“He is,” sighed Damian, pulling the motorcycle to a stop in a tight alleyway. Getting off, he explained, “Not very many people know this, but I actually have four siblings. Three brothers and a sister.”

“Oh, shit,” said Ellen, impressed. She too got up, slipping off the bike. “And I thought you were an only child.”

“In fairness,” he said, shooting a grin her way, “I do act like one sometimes.”

There was a loud thump before them, and a red helmet shone in the darkness as Jason Todd descended from the fire escape above. “Sometimes?” he echoed, teasing. “More like all the damn time.” He jerked his thumb at Damian and to Ellen, he said, “Kid’s insufferable.”

While Ellen gave Jason an uncertain smile, Damian got straight to business. “You heard about our case?” he asked, his voice low.

Jay gave a shrug, shaking his head slightly. “Rumors, mostly. I heard some evil assclown is selling Joker Venom pills to kids.”

Damian nodded. “We’ve pursuing all the leads we’ve got, but we’re trying to pinpoint a distributor. What do you know?”

“Nothing, really,” admitted Jay. “Nobody on my payroll goes anywhere near kids, definitely not all the way out to the suburbs. Besides, I have kind of a,” he paused, and though Ellen could not see his face behind the helmet, she imagined she could hear him smiling, “thing when it comes to the Joker, so most of my people know not to touch that shit with a ten-foot pole. Sorry,” he said, and he sounded genuinely apologetic. “Wish I could help more.”

“It’s fine,” murmured Damian thoughtfully, taking this in. “Have you caught anyone selling to kids lately? Maybe this is someone you dismissed?”

But Jason was already shaking his head. “Nope,” he said. “My reputation is pretty well-known by now, Robin. People don’t usually try and test me.”

Glancing in between the two heroes, Ellen moved slightly forward. “Is there anyone who left your operation lately, maybe for unrelated reasons? I don’t think a street pusher goes straight to working for a supervillain, if you know what I mean – it’d make sense if our guy had some exposure to you and yours before he ever made it to where he is now.”

Jason considered this for a moment.

And then he let out a very small groan. Though the helmet obscured his expression, Damian’s pulse quickened, sensing and impending revelation. “Yeah,” said Jay, nodding ruefully. “Now that you mention it, yeah. There was this one kid – I didn’t exactly, like, kick him out, ‘cause he never really did anything wrong, but he was just…” he paused for a moment, as if searching for the word, “…creepy. Not like, in a big-bad-supervillain anyway, but he was just kind of a creep. A lot of the women who worked around him had…complaints. He never did anything,” he added mildly, “but they just got weird vibes from him. Women’s intuition, huh?” Ellen heard the grin in his voice, and imagined he may even have winked her direction.

“Anything else?” she asked.

“Yeah,” answered Jay, his voice turning serious once more. “This guy – his name’s Scott Morrison, he’s maybe your age, Ember. But I caught him following me around on patrol a few times. Not following,” he continued, qualifying himself, “but – showing up in suspicious places. Like he memorized my route, which is weird enough, but then he’d start asking if I ran into any of the Big Bads. He asked me about Joker maybe once before I put my fist through his front teeth.”

Disappointed, there was a reprimand in his voice when Damian began, “Hood-”

But Jay just laughed and held up his hands. “Wasn’t that bad, li’l wing, just scared him a little. Anyway, haven’t seen him since then.” Damian nodded, but before he could say anything Jay added, “OH! I almost forgot – there was this one time, super fuckin’ weird, I kind of tuned it out.”

At this, Damian and Ellen exchanged looks. “What happened?” she asked.

“OK,” he began, leaning in slightly and lowering his voice. “Now this is super weird, and don’t tell your old man, Robin, ‘cause it’s the kind of thing he’d whoop any of our asses for – but one time, I got, you know,” he mimed gunshots with both hands, “beat up, a little, and I was bleeding all over the place try’na find somewhere to hang out and lick my wounds, and I swear to you this guy – I caught him, like, on his hands and knees on the ground following me with a fucking sponge in his hands.”

Both Damian and Ellen stared at him. “A sponge?” Ellen echoed, with a hint of disbelief.

“Yeah,” said Jay, nodding his head. “A fucking sponge. Blood is literally dripping off of my body, and he’s on the ground sponging it up. It was like, the weirdest thing I’ve ever seen.”

More heatedly than Ellen really thought was necessary, Damian demanded, “And you just let him take it? Why didn’t you tell Batman about this?”

“Because,” answered Jay, rolling his head in a way that suggested he was also rolling his eyes, “no motherfucker’s dumb enough to try and clone me. You and your dad-” he broke off, glancing at Ellen, then corrected, “-I mean, the Big Man, sure, but me? Nobody gives a shit.”

“It’s protocol,” said Damian stubbornly, but Jason shook his head.

“Believe me, this guy wasn’t smart enough for anything like that. He was just fucking creepy.”

There was a suspicious pause, and then Damian asked, “When did this happen?”

“Like, maybe a month ago? But he quit working for me before that, maybe half a year or so.”

Ellen glanced at Damian. “That fits,” she murmured. “Our first recorded overdose was almost four months ago. That leaves time for recruiting and initial distribution.”

“Right,” said Damian, with a nod. The expression on his face was still severe. “Hood, we’ll need all the info you can get us on this Scott Morrison character.”

“He used to have a place over in Midtown,” Jay said. “I think it was a motel or something, nothing permanent. Riverview, or something?”

“Riverview,” repeated Ellen, with an urgent look towards Damian. “That was on Oracle’s list.”

With a nod, Damian touched the commlink at his ear. “Thanks,” he said to Red Hood, and then into his comm he said, “Spoiler, come in.”

Returning to Damian’s bike, they headed back through the city. By the time they reached Riverview Boarding House, Spoiler was waiting for them in Room 7. “I talked to the owner,” she said, as Ellen and Damian entered the room. “Somebody’s kept up-to-date on payments, but he hasn’t seen anybody come in or out for a couple weeks now.”

“Probably since we started investigating,” said Ellen, as Damian moved forward to search the room. “He knew we were on to him and wasn’t about to get caught with his pants down.”

“Robin,” said Nell, watching him search the walls for hidden compartments. He glanced around at her, and she jerked her head towards a door in the wall. “The closet.”

For a moment he did not move, only stared at her. And then he turned to the rickety wooden door, and he opened it.

Peering in behind him, Ellen made a face. “Gross,” she said.

Damian said nothing, taking in the sight before them: a veritable shrine to the Joker, littered with newspaper clippings and amateur art and low-res photos printed from the internet. In the center, there was a small Robin action figure, the kind of thing sold at tourist traps in Gotham. The plastic Robin’s limbs and his head were all removed from his body.

Gravely, Damian said, “He’s a Joker fan.”

“That explains why he’s working with JGJ,” offered Nell, from behind them. When both Ellen and Damian glanced back at her, she clarified, “Uh, James-Gordon-Junior. He needed a snappier name.”

Looking back at Damian, Ellen said thoughtfully, “It does explain the connection. Gordon used the lure of Joker Venom to recruit Morrison as his Dealer.”

Still staring at the shrine, Damian’s brown skin had gone wan with disgust, and his lips were pressed tightly together. “I don’t understand these people,” he said lowly, then he stood up, getting to his feet. “The Joker is responsible for the deaths of hundreds, if not thousands of people. He’s a criminal. He’s not funny, he’s not interesting, and I don’t understand people who find him compelling.”

“Yeah,” agreed Nell sympathetically. “I mean, the guy’s basically a terrorist.”

Ellen caught the brief flicker of emotion across Damian’s face, a momentary tell that betrayed how much Damian disliked that word. Still; Ellen didn’t think Nell was wrong. “This is good, though,” said Ellen, to Damian. “It means we can bait him.”

Damian paused, then, very slowly, he turned around to look at Ellen.

----

“No,” said Bruce, shaking his head.

“It’s an hour, tops,” Damian insisted, leaning against the computer’s control panel in the Cave. “The entire team will be on top of him the whole time. It’ll be fine.”

“No,” repeated Bruce, shaking his head. “You are not removing the Joker from Arkham custody for any amount of time. He is in solitary confinement for a reason, he’s too dangerous-”

“A hour,” Damian repeated, practically begging his father. “Tightly contained and surveilled. It’s the easiest way to smoke out the Dealer.”

“The easiest is not always the wisest,” said Bruce shortly, “and I will not permit you to play games with a dangerous criminal. He always has a plan, and he’s bested you before.”

“But the entire team-”

“My answer is final,” Bruce told his son. “Harleen is out on parole, perhaps she may be of some help.”

As if disgusted by this suggestion, Damian began, “I’m not retraumatizing Doctor Quinzel on the off chance that she completes Scott Morrison’s Joker fantasy. Most Joker-philes like him think she’s a meaningless distraction anyway.”

“I’m afraid I cannot allow the alternative, Damian. It’s too dangerous.”

“We’re so close.”

“Then find another way.” Bruce’s voice was not unkind as he said, “I believe in you, and I believe in your team. But this mission has already exposed you and Ember to that monster enough. It isn’t going to happen again.”

For a moment, there was silence in the cave except for the constant whirr of machinery and the far-off drip of slowly-forming stalactites. There was a profound tension between father and son, thick enough to slice; Damian was once more angry that his father was blocking the team’s ventures, and yet Bruce would not budge. There was no compromise here.

On the specimen analysis table, unceremoniously contained in a plastic box, the crowbar remained. Bruce had not been sure what to do it, and so as he ran his tests he had kept it there in full view for all to see. Mercifully, Jason had not ventured into the Cave the last time he was here.

A part of Damian wanted to tell Bruce about Scott Morrison, known Joker fanboy, on his hands and knees, sponging up blood. He wanted to tell him that he’d dug up records that someone fitting Scott Morrison had made a clandestine visit to the Joker’s cell in Arkham, presumably leaving him with a gift. He wanted his father to know that the crowbar was a complete plant, and if the crust of bloodstains on its curved end matched Jason Todd’s, it wasn’t because this was the weapon that had been used to kill him.

But Damian was still a sixteen year old, and he was still petty. Perhaps Bruce was being especially strict because of this painful reminder of his own failure at the Joker’s hands, but Damian was just spiteful enough to keep this small knowledge from his father anyway, let him simmer in his own guilt and shame.

“Fine,” Damian said curtly. “Then any further deaths due to this Dealer character are on your conscience, Father.”

Later, he updated Ellen on the situation via commlink while on patrol. She sounded somber. “So that’s it, then?” she sighed. “That plan is out.”

“Hm? Oh, no,” said Damian, leaping from one rooftop to another, his boots absorbing most of the shock of impact. “We’re still going to do it. We just need to keep it a secret from Batman.”

“What?”

He fiddled at his commlink. “Ember, can you hear me? I said we need to keep it as secret from Batman.”

“No, I heard you, I just – that’s impossible.”

“Not impossible,” he corrected, “merely difficult for the inexperienced. Luckily you have me, and I happen to be extremely adept at keeping secrets from Batman. You have to learn that kind of thing,” he told her, offhandedly, “when you live in a house with him.”

“Breaking the Joker out of Arkham is a little different than sneaking out to meet your girlfriend, Robin.”

Without hesitation, Damian said coolly, “That’s not what I meant.” It had been, actually, almost exactly what he meant. “All I’m saying is that I know him well enough to anticipate where he’ll be watching. We do this quickly and effectively, and it’ll be over before he knows it.”

“That’s…optimistic.”

“I have been told I have a very glass-half-full demeanor, yes.”

Ellen laughed, and despite himself Damian caught himself grinning. “If you say so. When’s it going down?”

Good question. Damian considered this, standing above a stone gargoyle, scanning the cold city streets below him. “The longer we wait, the more drugs the Dealer gets out on the streets.”

“Fair enough. What’s the plan?”

“Meet the others at the Bunker. I’ll explain everything there.”

When all was said and done, it did take a little more time than Damian had anticipated. The first phase was dependent on the speed and inertia of rumor, which was spread both throughout Brentwood via Colin and Niloufar and throughout the rest of drug-dealing Gotham by Jason and a select few on his payroll. The rumor spoke of an anniversary: the birth of the Joker, or the rebirth, rather, when a man was swallowed by acid and spat back out as something else. It was a trap, designed to target the biggest Joker fanboy who frequented those circles, who, of course, naturally knew the apocryphal location of that fateful warehouse.

All they needed was one night. It had to work perfectly, smooth as silk, precise as clockwork; but Damian had faith in his team. Well. Ember’s team.

Ellen herself was stationed at the warehouse, staking it out. Colin and Nell were off on the other side of the city, waiting for their cue; Niloufar was spearheading operations out of the Bunker, and Jordan was with Damian, her speed, strength, and flight, a necessary part of his plan.

Hidden inside the bowels of Arkham Asylum, Jordan hovering slightly above him, Damian watched the seconds tick by on his mask’s lens display. For a minute or so, there was nothing but tense silence.

And then Damian touched the commlink at his ear. “Abuse, Spoiler,” he said, “you’re good to go. Seraph, how are we on security?” “All disabled and looped,” came Niloufar’s voice, without hesitation.

“Perfect,” he replied. “Ember, Jabberwock’s on her way.” He nodded towards Jordan, then took the lead, expertly navigating through the high-ceilinged halls of Arkham, avoiding guards.

In his cell, the Joker was still singing. “Little Bunny Foo-Foo, hoppin’ through the forest…”

Disabling the door’s security, Damian gestured for Jordan to take over. “Go.”

She did so, wrapping her arms roughly underneath the Joker’s shoulders and heaving him up and out, shooting back the way she and Damian came, disappearing into the night. The Joker’s fading laughter echoed in Damian’s ears as he locked and secured the door once more, then slipped away, hoping no one would notice Joker’s sudden silence.

As Damian headed back out to where his motorbike was stowed, he checked the open channel; the shit had, to put it delicately, apparently hit the fan, and Batman was barking orders at other Gotham heroes following an incident on the other side of the city, which meant he was far away from Arkham and from the docks where their plan was about to go down.

It took him almost twenty minutes to make it to the warehouse. Leaving his bike some ways away, as he approached the empty, abandoned building he was certain he could hear that faint, familiar laughter. Their trap was lain.

He found Ellen and Jordan in the rafters, high above the walkways which crisscrossed above vats which were now mostly empty. Jordan had dropped the Joker in one which had a foot or two of (probably?) nontoxic sludge at the bottom, and his laughter was so manic and so loud that its reverberations started to hurt Damian’s ears. He activated the dampeners in his commlink, relying on his teammates’ comms to hear them.

“Nice work,” he told them both. “Abuse and Spoiler gave us an hour, tops. After that Batman resumes his normal patrol around the city, but we caught him as far away as we could, so it should be at least another hour after that before he realizes there’s anything amiss.”

Though Ellen’s face was obscured, the sound of her voice betrayed her concern. “So Morrison better show up in the next two hours.”

“He will,” said Damian, watching the dark and empty walkways below them. “He won’t be able to resist the lure of legend, and there’s no way he’ll stay away once he hears that.”

“No kidding,” muttered Jordan, following his gaze.

“That’s still leaving an awful lot to chance,” Ellen added, sounding uncertain. “The timeline seems kind of arbitrary, and I’m still not completely sure why we needed the Joker himself for this anyway? Seems to me we could’ve just used, I don’t know, a recording of his voice or something-”

“Ember, please,” said Damian shortly, waving away her concerns. “I know what I’m doing.”

“Yeah, OK,” she replied, maybe a little insulted. “I don’t doubt that, Robin, but I’m pretty sure Batman said that this isn’t your team, it’s mine, and part of me is starting to think the only reason you wanted to go get Joker in the first place was because your dad told you not to-”

But before Ellen could continue or Damian, suddenly livid, could open his mouth to defend himself, Niloufar’s voice echoed in all of their ears. “Someone’s approaching the warehouse,” she told them, via commlink. “Good luck, you guys.”

They didn’t reply, because at that moment they heard the big sheet metal door to the warehouse creak open. All at once, the Joker’s laughter suddenly stopped.

Scott Morrison was not at all what Damian had been expecting. He was somewhere in his twenties, tall, slim, good-looking. His blond hair was gathered into a topknot, and he wore wide-brimmed glasses which appeared to have no magnifying effect on his eyes, and so therefore were probably only worn for the aesthetic appeal. Both he and Ellen shifted uncomfortably at the same time, perhaps coming to the simultaneous conclusion of, Oh no, he’s hot.

“Hello?” he called into the vast warehouse, which Damian thought was a pretty stupid move. He went to the stairs which led to the walkways above the giant but now-empty vats, climbing them slowly, cautiously, peering around. “Joker? Mister J?” he called, which caused Damian to cringe slightly and Jordan to whisper, “Yikes.”

Morrison continued, making his way across steel catwalk, his hands on the railing on either side. “I heard you laughing,” he called. “Are you here? Joker?”

A low, sickly chuckle emanated from one of the vats. Morrison’s eyes went wide behind his fake glasses, and he darted across the walkway, leaning over the railing.

The Joker leered up at him. His voice was low and frightening, like a purr in the back of his throat. “Who’s asking?”

“Oh, shit,” said Morrison, in obvious excitement. “Holy fuck, OK, oh my God, Mister Joker, woah. Hold on,” he said.

Morrison dug into his pocket, and Jordan muttered, “Oh, Christ,” as he took out a phone and literally posed for a selfie.

“Oh my God, Mister Joker, big fan,” said Morrison, once he’d taken the picture. “Like, holy shit, I can’t believe this is actually happening-”

Ellen gently nudged Jordan. “Go,” she whispered, but then Damian held out his arm.

“Wait,” he said.

In disbelief, Ellen blinked at him. “We have him,” she whispered angrily at him, “he’s right there, if we don’t move now then the Joker could tip him off to this whole operation-”

But Damian was already shaking his head. “Wait,” he said again.

This infuriated Ellen. Jordan just gave her an apologetic look and a shrug. Knowing Robin was the most experienced vigilante between the three of them, she forced herself into silence.

In the vat, up to mid-calf in a thick yellowy-gray sludge, the Joker just stared up at Morrison, unimpressed. “Big fan, huh?” he echoed. “What era?”

Morrison stared down at him. “Uh, what was that?”

“What era?” repeated the Joker, sounding as petulant as a child. “Nicholson, Ledger, Leto? Who was your favorite?”

“Um,” said Morrison uncertainly, “uh, no, sir, I think you misunderstand me, I’m just saying that like, you know, out of Batman’s whole rogues gallery, out of, you know, out of everything in Gotham that makes up the soul of this place – I mean, you’re it, man! Your presence is stamped into the very fabric of Gotham City! You’re everything!”

There was a silence. The Joker stared up at him. “Not very funny, are you?” he asked, his lip jutting out in a pout.

“What – I mean, no one’s as funny as the Clown Prince of Crime! But, like, I do have some stand-up material, if you like, want to hear?” He paused anxiously, then began, “OK, so, like, here’s one – why does Batman’s sidekick keep getting younger and younger?”

Sounding bored, the Joker drawled, “’Cause the older ones keep dying.”

“No,” said Morrison, “but – that’s funny too. No, it’s ‘cause – ‘cause he’s Robin the cradle. Get it? Like robbing?”

There was a long, tense silence. And then the Joker let out a chuckle. “Hey, kid,” he called up, “that is pretty funny.”

Beside her, Ellen could feel Damian tense, his entire body coiled tightly. He was aching to jump into action, she could tell. She didn’t entirely understand why he hadn’t already.

“Hey, kid!” Joker called once more. “Why don’t you come on down here, and tell me a couple more of those funny jokes you got there?”

A flash of uncertainty crossed Morrison’s face. “Oh, I – I don’t know-”

“Aw, come on,” said the Joker, kicking around at the sludge under his feet. “Hey, wanna hear another one? What did Batman say to Robin before they got in the Batmobile?”

Jordan leaned over and whispered, “I know this one!”

“Get in the car, Robin,” said Joker, and then he wheezed with laughter, breathless in his own hilarity. A grin spread across Morrison’s face. Once more he dug into his pocket for something, then pulled out a plastic baggie full of pills. He snagged three or four out of the bag, and stuffed them into his mouth, swallowing them down.

Then he climbed up on the railing, and he jumped down into the vat below.

He hit the bottom with a sickening crunch, and let out a yelp of pain. “Got him,” muttered Damian, but once more he stopped Jordan from moving. “Wait.”

The Joker stalked towards Morrison, who misinterpreted this as intent to help him up. “No!” he barked. “No, no, no! This is good! Pain is good, it’s freeing, like chaos of the mind!” He let out a loud, manicured laugh, as if it were something he practiced in the mirror. “See, Joker, man, I get it! I get you, the big joke behind everything, the ultimate gag! Laugh in the face of an indifferent universe! It doesn’t matter anyway, so why not try to burn as many bridges as you can on your way out, right? We all die in the end!”

“That’s not very funny,” said the Joker.

“It’s all funny!” insisted Morrison, as the Joker slowly neared him, like a shark stalking his prey. “That’s the point! It isn’t real! It doesn’t matter! That’s what makes the joke so damn funny-”

The Joker grabbed Morrison’s topknot; his wide grin, usually so gleeful, was downturned into a comical frown. Though the slimy sludge at the bottom of the vat was only about a foot high, he shoved his face into it, sticking a knee on Morrison’s back to keep him down. Morrison started to struggle wildly, his shouts unintelligible as the ugly goo slipped into his mouth and nose.

“It’s like babies in bathwater,” the Joker said, cocking his head, watching Morrison struggle. “Never understood it! You leave the kiddies alone for two minutes and suddenly they’re floatin’ on their bellies like a bunch of goldfish. How do they drown in that!” He let out a guffawing, belly-deep laugh, which sent a chill down Ellen’s spine. Pushing Morrison’s face deeper into the sludge beneath him, he roared, “It’s not that deep!”

At that, Ellen disregarded her orders and moved. She leapt onto the steel walkway, sprinted down towards the vat, and jumped in, her feet landing squarely on Joker’s shoulders, knocking him off his feet. As Morrison lifted his face and gasped for breath, the Joker turned around to see her, and his face lit up. He laughed maniacally, gleeful.

“Look who’s back!” he screeched. “How nice! How soon! Tell me, how’s Mama?”

Ellen drew her fist back to throw a punch, but in a split second, the Joker had disappeared; she glanced up to see Jordan spiriting him away, presumably back to his cold cell in Arkham. There was a squelching thump behind her, and she turned around to see Robin glaring at her. As Morrison coughed, Damian said, “I had it under control.”

Pointing towards the pathetic figure on his hands and knees, Ellen said, “Joker was going to kill him.”

“He was going to scare him,” replied Damian pointedly. “Nothing like a healthy dose of trauma to cure you off your obsession with a criminal like the Joker.”

Still wracked with coughs, Morrison’s head swiveled towards Damian, sludge dripping down his face. “S’not a – criminal – he’s an – artist-”

Damian turned around, looking only mildly interested. He kicked at Morrison’s torso with his boot, and the man toppled over. “The eight-year-olds finger-painting at Neon Knight Centers are artists,” he told him. “The Joker’s just a two-bit con man who somehow stumbled into mythologization.”

Gasping for breath, Morrison refused this. “He’s the – beating heart – of Gotham City! He’s Batman’s binary star! He defines the Batman!”

Damian grabbed the man’s collar and swung a leg over his head so his feet stood on either side of him. His gloved fist connected solidly with the front of Morrison’s face. “He’s not that interesting,” Damian said shortly.

“Where would Batman be without the Clown Prince of Crime?”

Again, Damian punched him. “In better mental health than he is right now, that’s for sure.”

“Who would he be? He’s the Batman’s greatest match! His greatest foil! The only other man he’ll ever truly understand!”

His fist connected for a third time with Morrison’s face, and Damian looked over his shoulder to address Ellen. “People use that one a lot,” he said, sounding genuinely perplexed. “It really says something concerning about how people interpret empathy and intimacy in male relationships.”

Once more Morrison attempted that terrible, overly-practiced laugh, and Damian turned around again to hit him in the face again. It was then that Ellen moved forward, placing a hand on Damian’s shoulder. “As satisfying as this may be,” she told him, sympathetically, “we’re here to get information out of him, remember? We need to know about Gordon.”

“Gordon?” echoed Morrison; there was incredulity in his voice, even through the blood running out of his mouth. “J-James Gordon?”

“That’s the one,” said Ellen, turning to him. “Junior, that is. Is he the one who’s been supplying you with the modified diaxamene?”

“Diaxamene?” he repeated, but Ellen was already digging through his pockets for that plastic baggie full of pills, which she quickly found and removed. “I don’t know what the fuck diaxa-what is, that shit’s diluted Joker Venom!”

“Yes, we know,” said Damian shortly, clearly still irritated. “You’re the one they call the Dealer, aren’t you?”

“I – I don’t know, man, James just said to tell people that!”

“James,” said Ellen, seizing hold of this. “He’s your supplier, isn’t he?” His whole body trembling, he tried to nod, but it came out looking more like a seizure. Spittle gathered at the corner of his mouth, and his skin was quickly draining its color, turning pale. Quickly Damian pulled open one eyelid, inspecting his pupils. Tightening his grip on Morrison’s collar, Damian asked, “How many pills have you taken tonight?” Morrison started to shake violently, his eyes rolling back into his head, and through his teeth, Damian snarled, “No!” Removing one hand from Morrison’s collar, Damian flipped open a compartment on his utility belt, popped the cap off a tiny syringe, and plunged it into Morrison’s neck.

“Anti-Venom?” asked Ellen. Damian nodded as Morrison’s shaking subsided, and he grew limp in Damian’s grip. “Robin,” she said, lowering her voice. “You can OD on diaxamene too if you take enough of it. The Anti-Venom may not work.”

“Maybe not,” grunted Damian, “but it’ll give us more time.” He shook Morrison bodily by the collar, and the man’s head lolled on his neck, his eyes blinking out of sync. “Scott Morrison,” he barked, “we know you’re the Dealer, and we know you’re working with James Gordon, Junior. Listen to me. Tell me where he is, and I’ll do my best to save your sorry life. If you have nothing to give me, then I will leave you here, and you will die alone in a warehouse where no one will find your body for weeks, if not months, and you’ll go to your grave knowing that Joker himself thinks you’re not fucking funny. Now,” he said, his voice calm and collected. “Where is James Gordon Junior?”

Something was catching in Morrison’s throat, making it impossible to reply; Ellen had a suspicion that it was vomit, his stomach protesting against all the poison he’d swallowed. Incapable or unwilling to form words, he merely lifted his hands, and he pointed out of the windows which lined the walls, just below the ceiling.

Damian paused, then he twisted around, following the direction of Morrison’s finger. Ellen did as well, but she didn’t understand: all that was visible out of the window was the night sky, stars faded above the lights of the city, and the shooting spire of the tallest building in Gotham City – Wayne Tower.

Grabbing Morrison’s hair, Ellen hissed, “Is this a game to you?” but Damian had already let him go, shooting his grappling hook out onto the walkway above.

He touched the commlink at his ear. “Seraph!” he called wildly. “Seraph, come in!”

Something dropped into Ellen’s stomach as she understood. Following Damian, she sent out a 911 call with Morrison’s location and status, then quickly followed Damian onto his bike. Niloufar had never responded to Damian’s call, and when he tried Jordan, he heard nothing from her either.

As they raced through Gotham, Ellen asked, “You think Gordon knows about the Bunker?”

“Maybe,” murmured Damian. “I know he knows about my family, and he knew about Batman back when we were based out of the Bunker. It’s a tease, Ember, don’t you get it? The diaxamene, the Joker Venom, the dead child so close to the Manor? He’s been playing us this whole time.”

“How?” asked Ellen, confused. “What do you mean?”

The bike shot into the secret entrance to the Bunker, and Damian was off of it immediately, sprinting into the main computer hub. “Seraph!” he called, looking around wildly, but there was no one there. “Seraph!”

Before them, the computer screen glowed a blank white. Something blared on both Damian and Ellen’s comms, Batman sending out an emergency signal for something going down at Arkham. “Jabberwock,” said Ellen to Damian, fear tight in her voice. “Something’s gone wrong-”

For a moment, Damian did nothing. On either side of him, he squeezed his fists tightly, gloves still stained red with Scott Morrison’s blood.

Then he turned to Ellen and said, “We can’t leave. Gordon’s here.”

“Where?”

Damian gestured for her to follow him, then took her through a set of doors she’d never seen open; he peeled his mask off his face, then lowered his eye down to a retina display. It blinked green, and an elevator opened. He held out one hand as if to say to her, After you.

“Where are we going?” she asked, unmoving.

He shrugged, then stepped into the elevator first. “The Penthouse,” he said shortly. “It’s where Nightwing and I lived back when he was Batman. If I’m right, it’s where Gordon’s set up camp.”

In disbelief, she finally boarded the elevator with him. “And how is it possible that none of your fancy security features ever picked up on anything up there?”

“I don’t know,” said Damian shortly, pressing his mask back onto his face. The elevator moved so rapidly with such sudden force that Ellen almost stumbled. “But it’s stupidly obvious – where’s the one place we would never look? Right under our noses, of course.”

Ellen glanced up at the ceiling of the elevator. “Or – above our noses, I guess,” she mumbled.

They emerged in a hallway; Damian jogged to the door and took off his glove, pressing his thumb against a scanner, and then he said aloud, “Voice recognition, Damian Wayne,” and the lock of the door let out a little click.

Lowly, Ellen asked, “If your security’s so tight, how’d he get through?” but Damian ignored her, pressing his gloved hand against the door and pushing.

The Penthouse was dark, but a light was on down the hallway, coming from the kitchen. When Ellen and Damian entered, a voice called, “In here!”

With a wary glance at each other, they followed the source of the voice. Turning the corner into the big modern kitchen, they found James Gordon Jr. sitting at the counter, glasses on his face, a spoon tucked into a pot of yogurt.

“Hi,” he said, waving at them. “Hey, it’s nice to finally meet you, Damian.” To Ellen he said, “I don’t know who you are,” then continued, “Nice digs, huh? Dick could’ve decorated more probably, but personally I like it.”

“Where is Seraph?” asked Damian, his voice flat.

“If you mean the girl downstairs,” James answered, scooping up a spoonful of yogurt, “she left a while ago. Probably to help her friend with the Joker.” Blandly, he looked at Damian. “Really nice of you to break him out and everything for me, Damian. I didn’t even have to lift a finger.”

“You’re done, Gordon,” Damian told him. “Your operation is shut down.”

“What operation?” asked James, looking mildly interested.

“The drugs.”

“I don’t have any drugs,” said James, innocently.

Damian stared at him, his expression stony and unreadable.

“Go ahead, search the place,” James continued. “Not a lot around here except some personal mementos. Sorry for squatting, but, hey, life’s tough when everyone thinks you’re a psychopathic murderer, right, Damian?”

Color dropped out of Damian’s cheeks, then suddenly rushed back in, flushing his brown skin. Sensing they had to take control of this situation, Ellen stepped up. “We’ve got you, Gordon,” she said simply. “We got the Dealer, too. We know what you’ve been putting out on the streets.”

“I haven’t been putting anything on the streets,” James said smoothly. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Feeling a surge of anger, she suddenly sympathized with Damian’s fury. “Scott Morrison-”

“-OD’d,” said James flatly. “Right?”

Damian and Ellen exchanged a look. For all they knew, Morrison had died before the paramedics reached him.

“Scott Morrison was a crazy man with a Joker fetish,” James said, with a shrug. He ate a spoonful of yogurt. “Nothing to do with me.”

“The diaxamene-”

For the first time, a hunt of frustration entered his voice. “Any idiot could’ve gotten ahold of that. Haven’t you heard, Miss Nayar? Prescription pills are all the rage nowadays. Oh,” he added, picking up a remote from behind him, pointing it at the television on the wall. “Would you look at that.” A Breaking News broadcast played, informing viewers that a potential catastrophe at Arkham Asylum had narrowly been avoided, and the Joker, who had mysteriously vanished from his cell, was back in custody.

James smiled at Damian and Ellen.

“All according to plan,” he said.

Damian’s eyes were glued to the screen, slightly in shock as the news showed shaky video footage of a slim figure shooting into the sky, holding someone else in their arms. It was obviously Jordan, and it looked like she was carrying Niloufar, who had covered her face with her headscarf against the cameras. Despite himself and the absurdity of the situation, he somehow found himself taken by surprise that they had managed to solve the situation on their own, without his help.

James Gordon Jr. did not fight back. He did not protest; when the police came, they arrested him, but found no evidence of wrongdoings in the Penthouse except, obviously, trespassing. Later, into his commlink, Oracle informed Damian that they were holding her brother temporarily, but they may not have enough solid evidence to put him away.

Meanwhile, Ellen got a quick status report from the other members of the team, then checked on Scott Morrison. He was alive, but comatose.

As the late nighttime hours began to bleed into the impossibly early morning, Damian and Ellen sat on the rooftop of a building, their legs hanging down over the side.

“I know – technically – we won,” said Ellen, peering down at the city streets below them. “So why does it still feel like we got played?”

“It usually feels like that,” Damian told her dully, without looking around at her. “Especially with filth like the Joker and Gordon, Junior. It always feels like there’s something we missed.”

“We didn’t need to take the Joker out of custody.”

“No,” agreed Damian. “I…suppose I just hate it when people think the Joker is bigger than he is. He’s a lowlife criminal. I wanted Morrison to understand that.”

“I think that’s the problem,” said Ellen, glancing around at him. “It…strikes me that you really can’t take these things personally in this business.”

Damian didn’t answer for a moment. Then, slowly, he got to his feet. “I understand that,” he announced, with some finality. “But…I don’t think it’s right to remove your own feelings out of these kinds of situations. I think that’s how you end up like Batman.”

“And that’s a bad thing?”

“It’s the worst thing,” he told her, his gaze flickering over to her. “A terrible option. The bad ending.”

“I don’t know,” she challenged, with a shrug. “He took care of this city for a long time before you came along. Maybe he knows something you don’t.”

This obviously troubled Damian. He bade her farewell, and then he made his way back to Wayne Manor, arriving in the Cave just as the very first edges of dawn began to break. His father was already there, seated in his throne before the computer, as always. Damian noticed the crowbar was gone from its place on the specimen table.

He removed his mask on his way up from the garage, passing his father at the computer and heading in the direction of the stairs that led up to the house above. Before he reached them, though, he paused, and he turned around.

“Father,” he said.

Bruce moved only slightly, glancing over his shoulder.

“I’m sorry,” he admitted, like pulling teeth.

For a moment, nothing happened. And then Bruce turned back to the computer, his fingers clacking away on the keyboard. “What are you apologizing for?” he asked. “You won.”

“The Joker-”

“Is back in Arkham.”

“But I-”

“Maybe you made mistakes, Robin,” said Bruce, still facing the screen, “but your team was there for you, and they took care of it. I was impressed with Jabberwock and Seraph in particular tonight. Jabberwock should do very well on patrol, though I believe Seraph would benefit from a more permanent headquarters.” On the screen, Bruce flipped through a series of safehouses he’d long kept on reserve. “The Haven, perhaps?”

Damian gaped at his father. “Headquarters?” he asked. “Patrol? You mean to say – this is it? You really trust them?”

“I trust you,” said Bruce, “and I trust Ember. That’s got to be enough for now.”

Still, Damian felt discontent. “Father,” he began, “I still think – if we had just-”

“Ifs and should haves are poison, Damian,” said Bruce, without looking around. “You won. Red Hood and some of his contents are working on getting Gordon’s drug off the streets, but without a supplier, it should dry up on its own.”

“And Gordon?”

“From what I hear of him, he’s no criminal mastermind. He just likes toying with people. If he can, his father will put him away.”

“His father,” echoed Damian, trying to ignore the obvious parallels suddenly rearing his mind. “I imagine you might be feeling some…empathy, for his situation.”

“None at all, Damian. None at all.”

Damian rolled his eyes, then turned to head up into the Manor, taking the stairs two at a time.

----

NAME: Niloufar Ghorbani ALIAS: N/A / Seraph DATE OF BIRTH: 16 October 1996 BLOOD TYPE: O+ (Full Medical History) EMERGENCY CONTACT: Nazanin & Mahmoud Ghorbani, Parents (Contact) AFFILIATIONS: Team Ember EVAL: Observe for further development of metahuman abilities

#sog2 #earth 28 #damian wayne #colin wilkes #nell little #ellen nayar #bruce wayne #jason makes a cameo!!!!!#also i hated writing the joker #and this fic officially makes jewish!waynes canon #i'll fix some shit in here before i upload it to ao3 but i just had to power thru it and get it Finished #oh babs is also there

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