#and it's either going to be a little less work than this semester

[teagrammy]

I really need someone to tell me I will have moments of rest and personal time in adult life again. Like it cannot just be a loop of work that piles on top of itself right when you finish it. Please tell me it gets better after college.

[dog-bimbo]

minors and ageless blogs do not interact ! fem!reader ☆ shiu is an absolute prick in this one just the way i like it :')

sugar daddy!shiu kong makes it clear on the get go that the relationship is purely transactional. he covers your tuition and whatever expenses that you need. in return, you gotta sit still and look pretty during his client meetings. and there were a lot of those meetings going on in his life... he doesn't want a companion to share his woes with, he needs a sweet little thing who'd make him look better in front of the clients. having a doll like you just makes it so much easier to deal with those guys. he really isn't like your traditional daddy that you see in movies. he doesn't mindlessly shower you with gifts and money and take you out on dates just to see you smile, he makes you earn each and every bit of the financial support he's been providing you with. it might seem a bit crude, but again, it's a transactional relationship after all.

you're his arm candy, all young and pretty in the outfits he chooses for you—none of them reach the knees. he likes it casual during the daytime—he doesn't care much for the tops low cut, turtle neck, buttoned collars, whatevers fines as long as it's paired with the tiniest of skirts. he likes ass and tits but most importantly, he likes thighs. sunny afternoons at lavish private properties or client offices don't go by easily by just discussing brokering services and pretending to care about the client's problems. you're either by his side or on his lap and he cannot go on without kneading the soft flesh of your thighs. one thing about him is that he makes the most out of the space he sits in. he's charming, even with that shit eating grin or a muted smirk that he flashes at you whenever you pluck the cigarette from his lips for him to exhale the smoke or ash it for him since he's too comfortable leaned back.

during the night however, the tiny little dresses he makes you wear seem like they're barely there. dainty jewellery, freshly manicured nails, his favourite shades of lipstick on your extremely kissable lips... he rubs his thumb on your bottom lip, tilting your chin up and looking down at you with his piercing gaze like he's evaluating you—"you've gotten the hang of it by now, i don't expect anything less from you. you'll be good for the clients n' extra good f'me, hm?" he lets go of your chin after you answer and gets out of the car, circling around it to open the passengers door for you.

it's like he's making you put on a show for the clients by the way he instructs you to charm them with your demeanour. his clients are total pervs too since he's not letting you leave much for imagination with your clothes. this is a business and sex sells—everyone knows it. "it's a big bad world honey, i don't have to tell y'bout how it works, yeah?" he murmurs if the clients are just oogling at you. but if it gets to you a bit too much, and trust me, he catches onto things faster than most people, he has his ways of dealing with it.

after the meetings is when you truly get to the good bit. he covers your semester fees on time even without you having to remind him along with the additional college charges. he's cunning but he's trustworthy and diligent. but for that extra cash to splurge, you gotta let him blow his steam off. he latches his lips onto your neck and gradually your tits after freeing them like he's starved, like he's been waiting for it. "the bastard chewed my damn ears off, can't stand 'em..." he grunts as he sucks on your nipples, his other hand groping your tits with a grip borderlining on a harsh one. "but you..." he bites on one with his teeth and tugs on the other with his index and thumb, "you're a fucking doll, so good f'me..." and by the time you're done with fogging up the tinted windows of his car, your poor cunt is left oozing out a bit of his cum as it trickles down your inner thighs.

he pulls out a thick wad of cash, fanning through it. "open up, sweetheart," he murmurs, thumbing through a few crisp bills. you bite down, the stack hard against your teeth. it's humiliating to the core but business is business, and you’ve got to earn your keep.

[levanterhaze]

── GAMEBOY, BANGCHAN

♡  ― 󠀬󠀬 fratboy!bangchan x f!reader there's no smut in this one just a sliiiight mention of it, this is just drama and angst because this chapter will tell a lot about their future relationship! contains mentions of anxiety too.

♡ synopsis ― Bangchan is the campus playboy—charming, cocky, and infuriatingly irresistible. One reckless, drunken night leads to a secret you swore you'd never have. Now, hating him is harder than keeping him your dirty little secret.

[5.5k words ]♡― i can't believe that so many people like gameboy, like, that's crazy! thanks for everyone's support. to those who ask to be added to the taglist, it warms my heart. if you want to talk about the story or anything else, i'm open to questions and conversation! don't forget to listen to the playlist and those who just got here PLEASE READ THE PREVIOUS CHAPTERS!!!! that said, have a good read.

♡― THE PLAYLIST.

♡ [part one] ♡ [part two] ♡ [part three]

You're scared of heights, that's vertigo You wanted lights, go see a show You ran away, that's touch and go You're scared of love, well, aren't we all?

What was supposed to be a one-time thing turned into two days, then three, then four. Before you even realized it, seeing him had become part of your routine, like breathing—natural, inevitable, and far too easy to justify.

Today, though, your mind was anywhere but on him. Mrs. Baek had scheduled a meeting, nothing more, nothing less. You and Hyunjin were goofing around, hands clasped as you twirled like a chaotic, offbeat version of Jack and Rose at a third-rate ballroom. Seungmin doubled over laughing, because of course he did. That was just your dynamic—ridiculous by nature, friends for life.

Then, everything stopped. A chorus of surprised gasps cut through the room, followed by an eruption of chatter that made your spinning halt. Confused, you glanced around, searching for the source of the commotion—until you saw her. Mrs. Baek stood at the front, and next to her…

No. Absolutely not.

Your stomach flipped as your eyes landed on him. Standing there with his head tilted slightly downward, one hand gripping the opposite arm—ridiculously muscular, by the way—Bangchan looked unfairly good in a black T-shirt that was doing the bare minimum to cover anything.

Your gaze flickered to Hyunjin, then to Seungmin, silently demanding an explanation, but before either of them could speak, Mrs. Baek’s voice cut through the haze of your disbelief.

“…which is why we now have a new student to take care of the sound design. Welcome, Bangchan.”

And then—anger.

The girls whispered like they’d just witnessed the famous idol in the world. Bangchan basked in the attention, grinning at them, then at the guys. And then, of course, his eyes found you. One brow lifted, pure challenge.

No. Fucking. Way.

“Sound design? Since when?” you weren’t really expecting an answer, but Hyunjin, ever the dependable sidekick, squeezed your shoulder and offered a half-smile.

“It’s kinda his and Jisung’s thing,” he said, arms crossed as he observed Bangchan effortlessly charm his way through the group. “Jisung’s drowning in work this semester, so I guess that’s why.”

Oh, how nice. How convenient. You couldn’t care less. It was one thing sneaking around with him in secret. It was another for him to invade your space. Your special space. And worse—acting like he belonged there.

As soon as the group began to break apart, you made your exit, feet moving fast. The last thing you needed was—

“Running away already?”

You stopped dead, fingers tightening around the strap of your bag. Spinning on your heel, you found Bangchan standing there, arms crossed, smirking like he had all the time in the world.

“I don’t think that’s any of your business,” you shot back.

“Ouch.” he clutched his chest, faking a wince. “You look angry.”

“Oh, do I?” your voice dripped with sarcasm. “That’s because I am.”

Lucky for him, the corridor was empty—just the theater crew lingering in the distance.

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” you demanded.

“Gonna need you to be more specific.”

You inhaled sharply. “Seriously? Sound design? You don’t even like theater.”

He took a step closer, brows furrowing.

“How would you know? We’re not friends.” the way he said it was off—something about his tone made your stomach twist. But you ignored it. “And if you actually bothered to find out, you’d know that, shockingly, I do this for real.”

You hated being proven wrong. But you especially hated being proven wrong by Bangchan.

“Look,” you sighed, arms crossing. “I don’t know what your game is, okay? But just… don’t mess things up. I like them the way they are.”

Bangchan nodded, slow and deliberate. But something flickered in his eyes—something unreadable. His stomach clenched, and he didn’t like the reason why. Because the way you said it, like having him here without sex was some kind of inconvenience, left a bitter taste in his mouth.

“Don’t flatter yourself.” his voice dropped an octave, sharp and cold. He met your gaze head-on, not an ounce of warmth left. “The world doesn’t revolve around you.”

And just like a punch to the gut left hanging in the air, he was gone. No rush, no glance back—just the weight of his words lingering between you.

Things were a mess, and you needed to get a grip. Studying, focusing—doing something that wasn’t theater or… well, him. The last few days had blurred together, your attention split in ways you weren’t used to. And you hated it.

The library was too quiet, the kind of silence that crawled under your skin. Three art history books sat open in front of you, mocking your lack of focus. It was ridiculous. How the hell had you let some guy scramble your brain like this? That wasn’t you. It had never been you.

Frustration boiled over, and before you knew it, you snapped one of the books shut, the sharp thud cutting through the silence.

“Jesus. What did the book ever do to you?”

The voice came from behind you, smooth and amused. You barely looked up before Mingyu’s face came into view. It hit you then—how distracted you’d been at the fundraiser. Otherwise, you definitely would have noticed him before. That annoyingly charming, white-knight smile. Tanned skin. Muscles for days.

He grinned, leaning over your table, arms flexing just enough to be intentional.

“Sorry. My head's a mess.”

Mingyu nodded, taking in your exasperated, borderline fried expression. “Yeah, you look like it,” he said with a knowing half-smile, sliding into the empty chair across from you like he belonged there. No permission needed.

You sighed, gesturing vaguely at the books. “Just trying to focus.”

His smirk deepened. “Right. Because nothing says laser focus like slamming a textbook shut like it just insulted your mother.”

You huffed, but the corner of your mouth twitched.

“Well, since you’re clearly on the verge of a breakdown, I have an idea.” He leaned back, stretching in a way that was both casual and strategic. “A coffee. On me.”

You opened your mouth to answer, but your phone vibrated against the table, barely visible beneath the stack of books. A quick glance at the screen. One new message.

Bangchan: my dorm. 30 min.

Your pulse jumped. Short. Direct. No room for misinterpretation.

“Everything okay?” Mingyu’s voice pulled you back, his eyes scanning your face.

“Yeah, yeah.” you laughed, maybe too lightly. “Just… distracted. Coffee sounds good.”

His grin widened. “Perfect. Let’s go.”

“Just let me put this back…” you grabbed one of the books, heading for the shelf when your phone buzzed again.

Bangchan: ignoring me?

You exhaled, fingers hovering over the screen.

You: I can't. I have plans.

A pause. Then—

Bangchan: ok.

You pressed your forehead against the bookshelf, inhaling deeply, willing away the strange tightness in your stomach. It was ridiculous. It was just a text.

When you returned, Mingyu was still at the table, casually texting someone. He looked up as you approached, grinning. “Everything good?”

“Yeah.” you nodded, forcing a smile.

He was nice enough to grab your bag and help carry your notebooks, the easy charm of someone who had probably been effortlessly handsome his whole life. The café wasn’t far—just a short walk from campus—but the crowd made it feel like the busiest spot in town.

Mingyu picked a table near the entrance, the air thick with the smell of espresso and fresh pastries. Strawberry sponge cake. Cinnamon rolls. Chocolate mousse cupcakes. The kind of place that made you want to abandon all responsibilities and drown yourself in sugar.

And yet, as you sat down, all you could think about was the ok.

Mingyu ordered coffee for you both but went the extra mile, adding a slice of strawberry shortcake to share.

“Thank you. You didn’t have to do that.” you smiled, wrapping your hands around your cup, already feeling the caffeine seep into your system like a lifeline.

He shrugged. “I wanted to. You looked like you needed something sweet.”

You caught the double meaning but let it slide. He was being nice, and you weren’t in the mood to overanalyze. “Right. So… football?” Smooth. Real smooth.

Mingyu didn’t seem to mind. “Going well. We’re set for the next game, and if we keep this up, the next university sponsorship should be ours.”

“That’s great, Mingyu.”

“Yeah, but I heard drama class was saved. Good news, huh?”

“Great news. We’ve got enough for now.” you took a bite of cake, letting the sugar melt on your tongue. Mingyu watched you, a smirk tugging at his lips.

“I’m happy for you. Getting the basketball team to sell brownies half-naked must’ve been a real passion project.”

You laughed. “It was, but that wasn’t me. That was Bangchan.”

It felt strange, saying his name out loud. Different when he wasn’t there.

Mingyu frowned, arms crossing over the table.

“Bangchan did that?” his brows knitted together, skepticism lacing his tone.

You shrugged, taking another bite of cake. “That’s what I heard. Why? You guys friends?” the idea alone made your stomach twist in an oddly unpleasant way.

“No. Not even close.” he laughed, shaking his head as if the thought was ridiculous. “Just curious.”

“Well, instead of wasting brain cells on him, you should try this.” you pushed the plate slightly toward him. “It’s actually amazing.”

Mingyu picked up a fork, took a bite, and let out an appreciative groan. You grinned, clapping your hands as if you had just won a bet, then promptly stole another piece for yourself.

Being with him was easy—effortless, even. A surprising friendship you hadn't expected but didn’t mind one bit.

Back at the dorm, Eunji and Sohee were curled up on the couch, sharing a bucket of popcorn while a movie played on the laptop. Your casual entrance was met with two pairs of curious eyes locking onto you like detectives sniffing out a case.

“Where have you been?” Eunji narrowed her eyes, her fingers pausing mid-popcorn grab.

“Why?” you laughed, kicking off your shoes.

“You’ve been acting weird,” she accused, tilting her head. “Always busy, barely around.”

“Sorry, I... I've just been very busy. The theater is eating me up. And there's the exams...”

Sohee smirked. “Why do you smell like coffee?”

���What?” you instinctively sniffed your shirt, the rich aroma of espresso lingering faintly.

Eunji gasped, scandalized. “You totally went out with someone!”

Sohee just shook her head knowingly, already seeing through you. “Liar.”

“Alright, fine! I got coffee with Mingyu. Happy now?”

As soon as the words left your mouth, Sohee’s eyes gleamed with mischief. “Mingyu from the soccer team?”

Eunji, on the other hand, nearly leaped off the couch. “Girl, you rocked it! I knew you had game, but Mingyu? That man is fine.”

You groaned, already regretting your life choices. “It wasn’t a thing, okay? We’re friends. We had coffee. That’s it.”

Eunji scoffed, dramatic as ever. “Honey, nothing with Mingyu is just coffee. That man doesn’t do casual.” she clasped her hands together like she was already planning your wedding.

You sighed, exasperated. “Make her stop.” you turned to Sohee, your last hope. 

But Sohee just smirked. “I mean… she’s not wrong.”

You sighed, rubbing your temples. “Oh my God.”

“Look, you’ve been drowning in rehearsals and exams. Maybe this is a good thing,” Sohee added, ever the voice of reason.

A good thing. That uneasy feeling crawled up your spine again.

Because the problem wasn’t Mingyu.

Because you had met someone. Someone who already occupied every corner of your mind. Someone who texted you with demands instead of invitations. Someone who kissed like it was the only language he spoke.

And that someone sure as hell wasn’t Mingyu.

“Alright, I’m done.” you grabbed your things and stood up. “I’m taking a shower. Goodnight.”

Before they could say another word, you ducked into your room, shutting the door behind you.

Now, if only you could shut off your thoughts just as easily.

It was lunchtime, and the table was buzzing with chatter. It had been nearly two days since you’d heard from Bangchan. Odd, right? The silence felt almost intentional. No texts, no glances that said too much.

You were sharing a basket of French fries with Hyunjin when suddenly, that topic came up. Jisung was DJing at another party this weekend, and everyone was planning to go. Of course, Eunji—bless her heart and big mouth—decided now was the time to bring up the perfect subject.

“You should invite Mingyu, now that you’re going out and all.”

You nearly choked on a fry, coughing like you’d just inhaled a cloud of smoke. Hyunjin slapped your back, but you could feel all eyes on you as the table went silent, then turned to look in your direction.

Bangchan, seated across from you, slouched in his chair like he didn’t care. But you knew better. The tension radiating from him was like a ticking time bomb.

“You’re seeing Mingyu?” Hyunjin’s voice dripped with mock disbelief. “How am I your best friend, and this is news to me?”

Great. Just great. The whole table was waiting for an answer, and suddenly, everything felt like it was about to spiral out of control.

“Going out with Mingyu? Really?” Changbin raised an eyebrow, clearly entertained. “I thought you had better taste, bro.”

“For fuck’s sake, I’m not dating anyone!” you shot back, finally managing to catch your breath after the shock of the conversation.

“Sure, sure. But you two went out the other day, didn’t you?” Eunji grinned, clearly enjoying every second of it.

You felt it before you saw it: Bangchan’s eyes, burning into the side of your head. His silence wasn’t just a void, it was a warning, sharp and heavy. You should’ve felt guilty—after all, you had brushed him aside for Mingyu.

“But we’re not together,” you quickly clarified, hoping to quell whatever storm was brewing behind his eyes. “And he’s practically at every party anyway. It’s not like he’s not going to show up.”

Eunji wasn’t buying it. “Still should invite him, though.”

Hyunjin tossed an arm around your shoulders, all casual but still sorta protective. “Alright, stop messing with my girl,” he said, voice light but you could tell he wasn’t having it.

You muttered a quick ‘thank you,’ relieved when the focus shifted away from you. Your thoughts drifted as you nibbled on the end of your fry, mind half on your food, half on the tension buzzing at the table. 

Bangchan, though, wasn't as distracted. He sat there, twisting his tongue inside his cheek, fighting off the surge of frustration coiling in his gut. The thought of you with Mingyu? It hit him like a wrecking ball. Not just because you had ditched him for the guy, but Mingyu.

He could hardly keep his anger in check. Only his closest friends knew the history between the two of them—and no one, especially not you, would ever guess how deep that hatred ran.

He couldn’t stand it any longer. Without a word, he stood, breaking the rhythm of the conversation.

“Leaving already?” Changbin asked, raising an eyebrow. Lunch still had half an hour left, but Bangchan didn’t seem to care.

“Yeah, gotta handle something,” he muttered, his voice sharp enough to make everyone shut up for a second.

The group barely noticed his departure. You certainly didn’t. After all, it wasn’t like anything was out of the ordinary. Right?

The days were flying by, and with every one that passed, the auditions loomed closer. The lineup was finally set—each student would perform next Friday, the day before Jisung’s party. No pressure or anything. Your nerves were on high alert, and anxiety was practically gnawing at your bones.

And then there was Bangchan. Or rather, the lack of him. You hadn’t heard a word from him in days. During the rare times you actually sat with the guys for lunch, his seat was just... empty. And you pretended not to care, stealing quick glances and keeping your mouth shut.

Most of your free time was spent holed up in the library, pretending to study, or locked in your room, trying to convince yourself that, yes, you could totally make it through the semester without crumbling under stress. Mingyu had texted you a few times, but you’d dodged his messages so hard that even you felt guilty about it.

Not that he seemed to care. The guy was persistent. He still wanted to take you out, get to know you, charm his way into... whatever he was aiming for. Just today, he’d invited you to join him and the soccer team at some bar near campus. Apparently, they were celebrating a big win—not that you had a single clue who they even played against.

You needed to get out. Desperately. But showing up solo to a team hangout? That was a level of confidence even you didn’t have. So, naturally, you did what any sane person would—you called your emergency contact.

Hyunjin picked up before the second ring.

“Well, well, look who finally decided to return from the dead,” he drawled.

“Yeah, yeah. Roast me later. Right now, I need a favor.”

“Hm. Depends.”

“There’ll be drinks,” you baited, already knowing his answer.

He sighed dramatically. “Fine. But if I go, you have to give me the full rundown on whatever mess you’ve got going on with Mingyu.”

You exhaled sharply, tilting your head back like the universe was punishing you. “Ugh. Deal.”

Satisfied, you threw on a black fit—strappy top, skirt, boots, plus a long-sleeved cardigan for balance—and grabbed your phone to text Hyunjin.

And that’s when you saw him.

Bangchan.

Walking toward his dorm, jacket slung over his shoulder, bag in one hand. The second he spotted you, it was like his brain hit a hard reset. Blue screen. No thoughts, just you.

You, on the other hand? You just…froze. Phone still hovering mid-air like you were trying to signal the mothership.

He looked good, annoyingly so—tired, sure, but with that effortlessly undone look that made you want to fix things that weren’t even broken. And judging by the way his jaw tightened ever so slightly, he wasn’t exactly thrilled to see you looking this good either.

You could practically hear the battle happening in his head. Logic telling him to keep walking. Instinct screaming at him to drag you somewhere private and remind you exactly why you shouldn’t be ignoring him.

But no. Neither of you moved. Just standing there, locked in some ridiculous silent standoff from across the way.

That is, until a hand brushed against yours.

“Took you long enough,” Hyunjin teased, but his voice trailed off the second he noticed who had stolen your attention. His steps slowed, eyes flicking between you and Bangchan like he’d just walked into the middle of a soap opera.

You bit back a smirk, shoving down the weird twist in your stomach. “Shall we?”

Hyunjin hesitated, still piecing things together. Then, with a last glance at Bangchan—who looked like he was about two seconds away from saying something he’d regret—he sighed.

“Yeah,” he muttered, brows still furrowed. “Let’s go.”

The moment you step into the bar, Mingyu zeroes in on you like a man on a mission—half-drunk, half-thrilled, and entirely shameless about how his gaze drags over you. He grins, tells you how gorgeous you look, and hands you a shot of soju like it’s a requirement for entry.

Hyunjin, of course, fits right in immediately, the social butterfly that he is. Meanwhile, you start to relax, the initial nerves fading as the drinks flow and the unfamiliar space becomes less intimidating. Mingyu’s friends are nice—too nice. The kind of nice that feels like they're sizing you up, like you’re some kind of prize waiting to be claimed. Mingyu’s prize.

The room is loud, buzzing with alcohol-fueled laughter and drunken debates, but your thoughts are fixated on something else. Someone else. And damn it, Mingyu is right there, flashing that easy smile, brushing his fingers against yours like it’s an accident every single time. Complimenting you in ways that should make your stomach flip.

But all you can think about is the guy who hasn’t spoken to you in days. The one who supposedly doesn’t want you anymore.

Brilliant. Absolutely brilliant.

With a frustrated sigh, you push back your chair and stand. You’re not even tipsy, but everything suddenly feels too hot, too suffocating.

“I need water,” you mutter, more to yourself than anyone else, and head for the bar before you do something stupid.

Mingyu appeared at your side, leaning against the bar like he had all the time in the world.

"All good?"

You forced a smile, gripping the cool glass of water like it could ground you. "Yeah. Just needed something cold."

"Glad you came," he said, smirking slightly as he looked down at you.

He’s the one you should want, the one who actually wants you.

Your gaze flickered to his lips. A bad idea waiting to happen.

Mingyu caught the hesitation, eyes darkening as he glanced between your lips and your eyes. You barely had time to register what was happening before your hands found his shoulders, his lips pressing against yours.

The guys erupted in cheers, their drunken approval ringing out across the bar.

And after that, a blur of stolen kisses, too much soju, and voices too loud to ignore.

The night air was crisp against your flushed skin as you and Hyunjin walked back toward campus. The distant hum of the city buzzed in your ears, the alcohol still warm in your veins, though the high of the night had started to fade. Your heels clicked against the pavement, and Hyunjin, ever the gentleman, walked just a step closer in case you stumbled.

“You good?” he asked, nudging you lightly with his elbow.

You hummed a response, not trusting yourself to say anything else. Your mind was a tangled mess of soju, Mingyu’s lips, and something deeper—something you weren’t ready to admit.

Hyunjin let the silence settle for a moment before he spoke again. “If I ask you something, will you be honest with me?”

You sighed, already bracing yourself. Here it comes. “If it’s about Mingyu, I—”

“It’s not.” he cut you off, tone softer than before. “It’s about Bangchan.”

Your stomach twisted.

You stopped walking, your breath caught somewhere between your lungs and your throat. Your hands fidgeted, grasping for something—anything—to ground you. “Why would you ask that?” you muttered, trying to play it off, but even you could hear the slight tremble in your voice.

Hyunjin tilted his head, studying you. “I figured it all out.”

A sharp inhale stung your chest, and before you could even think of a response, it hit you. The overwhelming, suffocating weight of everything you’d been trying to bury. The frustration, the confusion, the way he made you feel like you were something and nothing all at once.

“Oh, shit,” Hyunjin muttered, eyes widening as the tears spilled over. “Come here.”

He pulled you into his chest, letting you press your face into his shoulder. You clung to his jacket, shaking as silent sobs wracked through you. Half-drunk, half-heartbroken, you let yourself break in the only safe place you had at that moment—Hyunjin’s arms.

“I don’t— I don’t know what the hell I’m doing,” you mumbled against the fabric of his hoodie, voice barely above a whisper.

Hyunjin sighed, rubbing soothing circles on your back. “It’s okay. Just breathe.”

But it wasn’t okay. None of it was.

After a few minutes, he gently pulled away and wordlessly handed you a bottle of water he’d bought from a vending machine nearby. You took it with shaky hands, gulping down the cool liquid as if it could wash away the lump in your throat.

As you wiped your eyes, Hyunjin leaned against the streetlamp, watching you carefully. “Talk to me. What’s going on with you and Bangchan?”

You let out a bitter laugh, shaking your head. “I wish I knew.”

He raised an eyebrow, waiting.

With a deep, shaky breath, you finally let it spill. “It started as something casual. No expectations.” your fingers tightened around the water bottle. “But then he started pulling away. And I don’t know if it’s because he got bored, or if I did something wrong, or if this was always the plan. I don’t even know if I want more, but the fact that I’m this messed up over it?” you scoffed, blinking back fresh tears. “That has to mean something, right?”

Hyunjin exhaled, his gaze thoughtful. “Damn.”

You let out a wet laugh. “That’s all you got?”

“I mean, what do you want me to say? That doesn’t sound casual to me.”

Your stomach twisted. You knew that. You knew that. But hearing it out loud made it real in a way you weren’t ready for.

You swallowed hard, voice small. “I got myself into this mess. I was the one who asked him to keep it a secret.”

Hyunjin frowned, his posture shifting. “Why?”

“Because I was scared,” you admitted, the words raw in your throat. “Scared of what people would say. Scared of the judgment. You know how it is—girls get torn apart for way less. And I worked too hard, cared too much to be reduced to just that girl who’s hooking up with Bangchan.” you laughed bitterly, shaking your head. “And now? Now I don’t even know how to deal with it. Because I was supposed to hate him, Hyunjin.”

Hyunjin was quiet for a moment, his usual teasing gone. When he finally spoke, his voice was steady. “You don’t have to figure it all out tonight. But you also don’t have to go through this alone.”

Your throat tightened. “I feel like an idiot.”

“You’re not an idiot.” he bumped his shoulder against yours. “You’re just in deep.”

You exhaled shakily, leaning into his warmth as you both started walking again.

“Look, I don’t have the answers. But I do know you’re not crazy for feeling this way.” he squeezed your shoulder. “And if he’s too much of an idiot to see what he has, then maybe you should let him be the one losing sleep over it.”

You sniffled, managing a weak smile. “You’re my soulmate, Hyun.”

“Damn right I am,” he said, flashing you a grin. “Now drink your water before you pass out, drama queen.”

You laughed—actually laughed—and for the first time that night, the weight on your chest felt just a little bit lighter.

The day had finally arrived. Showtime. No matter how many times you’d done this, stepping on stage always felt like a first-time, heart-in-your-throat kind of thing.

Up in the audience, Seungmin, Hyunjin, and Sohee were posted a few rows above Mrs. Baek, waiting for you to do your thing. No pressure.

Backstage was quiet—eerily so. You sat there, taking slow, deep breaths, wiping your sweaty palms against your thighs like a seasoned pro in pre-show anxiety management. You were next. Three minutes. One shot. No room for mediocrity.

You’d chosen a song that wasn’t just sentimental—it was a statement. A vocal rollercoaster that climbed from deep, rich lows to a falsetto so clean it could cut glass. If you were going to go down, at least you’d do it swinging.

Reaching into your bag for your water bottle, you were mid-sip when movement in the distance caught your attention.

And just like that, reality glitched. Bangchan.

It was almost ridiculous how unreal he looked, like a mirage conjured from some fever dream. You hadn’t seen him in days, and yet here he was, strolling in like he hadn’t been living rent-free in your mind this whole damn time.

Laptop in hand, fingers flying across the keyboard, looking every bit the sound tech genius he was. You hadn’t expected him to actually show up for this gig, but—oh, look—there he was, punching buttons like he was defusing a bomb.

Then, he saw you. And something shifted.

His fingers stilled, tightening around the laptop.

The air was heavy. The tension was palpable. Whatever was going on between you two didn’t need words—it was written in every sharp breath, every stolen glance.

And just like that, your pre-show jitters had a new contender.

"Hi," you muttered, shifting uncomfortably.

Bangchan gave you a small, polite smile—too polite. Something about it felt off. The usual spark in his eyes? Gone. And that was all it took for reality to sink in.

So that’s it, huh?

The game was over. You had your answer. He was done, and honestly? You couldn’t even be mad—because weren’t you just as much to blame?

Mrs. Baek’s voice cut through the buzzing in your head, thanking the student who had just finished performing. You’re next.

You turned away from Bangchan, unscrewed your water bottle, and took a long sip, willing yourself to focus. Breathe. Lock in. You’ve got this.

Then it happened. A warm touch on your waist—his touch.

Your body betrayed you instantly, heat rippling through your skin like a live wire. It had been days, and yet, all it took was this—a single touch—to remind you how much you’d missed him.

You spun around, frowning, swallowing hard as your gaze locked onto his.

Bangchan didn’t back down. If anything, he doubled down.

His arm lifted, caging you in the small space between you and the backstage wall, pulling your bodies so close it was downright insane. His head tilted slightly, studying you, reading every little reaction like he already knew the ending to this story.

Without warning, Bangchan crashed his lips onto yours, his free hand gripping your waist like he had no plans of letting go. His palm slid up your back, fingers teasing under the hem of your shirt, branding heat into your skin.

You barely had time to process before his tongue was in your mouth, claiming, demanding—like he was making up for every second of distance between you.

A sound slipped past your lips—a mix between a sigh and a moan, involuntary, unstoppable.

God, you hated how easily he unraveled you. And worse? You loved it too.

Your fingers curled into the fabric of his sweatshirt, yanking him closer—like you needed him just a little closer, just a little longer. Your lips moved in sync, deepening the moment, drowning out everything else.

Then—

Mrs. Baek’s voice rang through the backstage, shouting your name.

Then reality crashed back in.

But instead of nerves clawing at your stomach, instead of the suffocating pressure you’d felt moments ago, there was something lighter—something electric. Like a field of wildflowers blooming where anxiety used to sit.

You pulled back, panting, heart racing, but this time? You were smiling. Bangchan, just as breathless, leaned in, his lips brushing the shell of your ear.

"Break a leg," he murmured.

And just like that, you knew you would.

♡ taglist ― @kenia4 @chrizrizz @meerabmalik @gnabnahcsworld @gncbnahc @jinniejjam @skzworldx @itsacatastrophe-xo @soonie1010 @4ng3l-ch1ld @justwonder113 @tsunderelino @eastjonowhere @lyracarvahall @akindaflora @victoriaaf @ebnabi @wickedbutlovely

[cyberseong]

extra credit.

pairing: yunho x f!reader

genre: smut/pwp, professor!yunho, non idol au

warnings/topics: not proofread, there’s quite a bit if plot before it gets to the actual smut, dom!yunho, sub!reader, blowjob, facefucking, unprotected sex, yunho’s a bit mean in the beginning, use of pet names (sweetheart, princess)

word count: 1.6k

a/n: i haven’t posted on here in months, but i wrote this so i could at least get something out. i might be able to post more regularly soon, but anyway, enjoy! notes/reblogs are appreciated!

it’s nearing the end of april— which only meant that the long, excruciating exam season was upon you, just like it was for every other student enrolled in college.

you’ve been studying your ass off, but the amount of assignment and project deadlines that were creeping up on you made all your effort look meaningless. with more near-failing grades than you’d like to have, you decided on requesting grade improvement opportunities from the professors of these classes.

the first two gave you extra credit assignments with no hassle— something you could do quickly for a decent grade boost, as not even the professors wanted to be stuck grading them as a side quest during a month where they were already overwhelmed with important papers to grade.

you made it to the room which held your third and last professor that you’d bother for the day— professor jeong. he taught business ethics; it should’ve been an easy passing grade, but professor jeong was someone who wanted to make his class a living hell for his students, simply because he had the time and was getting paid to do so. he made it a mission to give out intricate and detailed assignments, even selecting a 20-page paper as your semester final.

he definitely wasn’t going to be lenient when it came to extra credit assignments either.

taking in a deep breath, you knocked on his office door, waiting to hear his exasperated “come in” before opening the door and sliding into the room.

he looked incredibly tired, more so than usual; stacks of students’ finals were sprawled out on his desk. surely he’s regretting his petty decision of giving such a hard assignment right about now. regardless, his frustration only made him more attractive than he already was normally; you’d be lucky if you could make it out of his office alive with the way his intense gaze made you so uncomfortably hot.

“good afternoon professor jeong… i wanted to ask if any extra credit assignments were availab–”

“no. if you really wanted a passing grade this semester, y/n, you would’ve made that project that was turned in a few days ago look a little less rushed and pathetic than it was.” yunho spoke with a flat tone, only looking away from his computer once to give you a strong, disappointed look as he finished his critique.

“well– yes, that is true, i’m truly sorry about that professor… i’ve been so swamped with studying and going to class and working that i didn’t have much time for the assignment… even a small extra credit assignment would do, or even an extension on the original–”

“was i not clear enough the first time? even on the first day of my class, i made it very clear to everyone that half-assed work would not be tolerated nor forgiven. i will not be giving you an extra credit opportunity, y/n.”

the way he spoke down to you so sternly alone was enough to make you quiver; the man was the living and breathing embodiment of sex appeal itself; you had to be extra careful in not letting your mind drift off even while having such a serious conversation with him.

you were almost certain he had seen the way you looked at him. the tone in which he reprimanded might as well have caused you to come undone right there in the middle of his office. most of the people who took his class only registered for it because of how hot he was compared to the other old and worn out professors that taught classes for your major. so, could you really be faulted for following in everyone else’s footsteps?

“are you sure there’s nothing i could do to bring my grade up? i really need to pass my classes this semester, i’ll do anything, please,” you felt so pathetic begging him for a chance at the possibility of a grade improvement, but it was better than retaking his entire class again after the summer.

yunho sighed before taking his reading glasses off of his face, finally removing his attention from his screen in order to analyze the situation at hand. the underlying suggestive intent of your words caused him to cock an eyebrow; he takes in your position over his desk, the way your slightly leaning into it and the way your cleavage is on full display in front of his face at the moment told him all he needed to know about your request.

a small grin crept onto his face as he reconsidered his previous firm rejection to your request. there’s no harm in a little fun, and he’d be a fool to reject an advance from such an alluring student of his, right?

“anything… is that so…” yunho teases, getting up from his chair and walking around his desk, towering over you as he now stood in front of you. “if you really wanted some extra credit, i could use a nice stress reliever right now… siting and grading 20-page essays for hours without break has made my body so tense…” he mockingly whined, rubbing a hand over his stiffened neck to verify his words.

you looked up at him with doe eyes, practically waiting for whatever his next command would be. you were surprised at how easy it was for him to fall for your act– not that you were complaining about his fast submission. you were lucky to even hold his attention for this long, let alone have the honor of relieving his stress in exchange for a better grade in his class.

���get on your knees, sweetheart,” yunho paused, unbuckling his belt and unzipping the fly of his slacks. “you’ve done so much talking and pleading, why don’t you show me what else this pretty mouth of yours is capable of?”

a blush crept over your cheekbones as you obeyed him, pulling his hard length out of the confinement of his boxers and stroking it slowly with your soft, manicured hand. as you spread the precum down his cock to reduce the friction, yunho groans at the sudden feeling pulsing through his body.

you took most of his cock into your mouth, hollowing your cheeks as your tongue swirled around his tip. you eventually fit his entire length into your mouth, deepthroating it as your head bobbed back and forth with ease. you moaned around it, sending vibrations throughout yunho’s core– this elicited a long, drawn out groan from him, followed by a string of curses as his hands find their way to your hair. he maintains a stern grip on your luscious strands as he takes control of your head, thrusting into your face to chase his high that was approaching.

“f-fuck, princess, your mouth feels so good around me– so fucked out all because of my cock, hm? you take it so well y/n,” he teased before giving your throat one final thrust before spilling his seed into your mouth, moaning as you stroke his length once more, overstimulating him in the comedown of his climax. “get up off the floor and bend over the desk, sweetheart.”

almost as if your body was moving on autopilot, you immediately follow his command. before you could even lay upon the desk, yunho’s large hands are halting your movements to quickly undo the buttons of your blouse, causing the garment to be thrown somewhere on the floor of his office. he undoes the hooks of your bra before discarding of that as well. he gently but hurriedly pushes you forward onto the polished wood, trailing a hand down your spine in admiration of your soft, glowing skin that covered your body. the action sent shivers throughout your body, the ghostlike touch of his fingertips now haunting your lower back. his other hand traveled to your skirt, lifting it up to reveal a red lace undergarment that just barely covered what it was meant to.

“looks like you planned for this, unless you just normally go around with such an inviting surprise hidden under your clothes. i’d be disappointed to hear that anyone else is getting this view, sweetheart.” he spoke with a half-sincere tone as he moved the lace to the side, the tip of his length now teasing your wet entrance. he only slid in deeper as you began to respond.

“ah, you’re the only- fuck, only one professor jeong, only ever- fuck! wear it on days i have your class,” your vocal moans sound through the room as his thrusts became deep and fast, his cock hitting all the right places to make you a wrecked, hysterical mess.

“i’m- mmh, so close professor, fuck, ‘s so big, i can’t,” you ranted. he gave one last long thrust before you reached your high, coming undone on his length. he sped up his last few thrusts, causing you to see stars as you were already getting overstimulated from the overwhelming orgasm he just gave you.

yunho soon pulled out, cleaning the both of you up a little before he pulled your skirt back down and freshened up himself. he handed you the clothing that was previously discarded to the floor before he adjusted his tie and sat back down in his office chair.

“you can consider your grade in my class to be fixed, y/n,” yunho said with a bit more life in his words than he did when you first came into his office. he fixed his hair and put his reading glasses back on his face, his fingers soon clacking on his keys again. “and feel free to visit my office again any time; i’ll be here to help.” a slight chuckle left his lips as he made the double meaning of his words apparent.

“thank you– and you'll see me again very soon, professor jeong.”

[bunny-jpeg]

club tropicana

operations officer alex keller

cw: smut/pwp, summer/vacation fic, drinking & smoking, unprotected sex, (slight) baby trapping, body worship & dirty talk, cowgirl position

bunny says: reblogs & comments are greatly appreciated! i love reading your comments & feedback (considering this is my first time writing mr. keller <3)

this was supposed to be the vacation of a life time. you had won it at a raffle through your school and would be your getaway before your last semester of school! you were so close to your degree that you could almost taste the ink on the diploma.

so of course the little vacation was a delightful treat!

that was when you met alex keller. he was nice, you two would sit at the bar by the pool and drink. and the drinking turned to talking.

"do people ask about the leg a lot?" you asked, a little drunk, "i'm sorry, that must be a really rude question!"

he chuckled and had another sip of his pina colada, "don't worry, beautiful. i can usually tell when people look at me like i'm a freak. when we first started talking, you didn't notice it. so i know you're just a curious little thing."

"i mean." you hiccuped, "if it's anything. the tattoos are good at distracting." you then giggled, feeling heat in your cheeks. you leaned a little closer and looked up to him, "i mean also your arms a huge so i wouldn't worry about it too much!" then gave him a big smile.

little did you know that alex was falling hard for you. but, it wasn't a puppy love or a vacation fling. no, he wanted you to be his wife. and when operations officer keller got his mind on something, he saw it through to the end.

it didn't help that you were so cute in your floral printed bikini. sometimes you wore a large sunhat and heart shaped sunglasses. you were painfully cute, innocent almost.

by the second week of your trip, you two were having sex. it wasn't hard to get you into his hotel room. the first time you two got intimate, you were on the tiled floor of the hotel room in front of alex who had both feet planted on the ground on either side of you.

in front of your eyes was him stroking his almost scary cock. it wasn't like it had devil horns or cobwebs, it was just that you had never seen a cock that big up close.

a nice peachy-pink colour, cut with heavy balls and a nice bit of hair to frame it all. it was the kind of cock you could get addicted to. and for alex, that was the plan. after you gave him the blowjob of a lifetime, he finished you off by putting you in his lap and finger-fucking the living daylights out of you.

by your second orgasm, you wanted to tap out, but he kept you trapped to him. his strong fingers bullying your sweet cunt. "nah, nah, nah. no can do." he said, "you gotta be stronger than that. i think i could get at least another three out of you before you're really done." he then got his second wind and fucked you on your hands and knees. you were drooling into the pillows.

getting a taste of you, was like a shark getting a taste for sea lion blood. the poor prey would be hunted to the ends of the oceans just so the shark could have another taste.

he knew you were a real keeper when you asked about positions that would work for him given his prosthetic. you had such a cute look in your eyes when you asked him, "i don't want it to not be fun for you! i'm very flexible so however you need to do it, we can do it!"

god, you were going to be the perfect mother to his children.

painfully caring, sugary sweet. alex was certain that he had caramels with less of a sugar content than you. but he said that cowgirl was his favourite, not only for his leg but also he liked seeing "pretty fat tits" bounce with every thrust.

it was a day of sun, you two had hung out around the ocean. you dragged one of the reclined beach chairs to be closer to alex. he laughed when you struggled to pull it across the sand, but had an arm around you when you sat in the chair when it was next to his.

now after dinner, your skin felt warmed from the hot sun and you were still in the adorable sundress you brought. alex loved a girl in a sundress.

his hands were on your shoulders after you got your sandals off. your skin felt so warm, it was like touching a familiar sun. it made alex's heart give a gentle' thud' in his chest. he kissed your neck before he hands went to the zipper of the dress.

"you looked more delicious than the buffet. i'm pretty sure they could serve you up for dessert." the zipped was pulled down and you slowly got out of it before you stepped out of the dress when it hit the floor.

you stood there, almost naked in front of your summer fling (re: future husband). you giggled and started to undo the front of his button up shirt. you ran your hands down his toned, slightly hairy chest and felt your core grow hotter.

"you look so good." you giggled.

he reached over and grabbed your ass, "not as good as you." his lips were painfully close to yours, "i wanted to throw you on the table and throw that dress up, and sink into the slick little pussy of yours."

you moaned a little at his words. he got you out of your bra and panties, leaving them with the dress as he led you to the nice hotel bed. you sat on it like you had done a dozen times already. you watched him undress. then you watched him lie onto the bed.

"mmm, c'mon now, pretty girl." he said as he tapped his thigh, as if he was a stallion to ride. he then laughed when you were eager to seat yourself down on his lap.

he grasped his cock and rubbed it up against your wet slit. when the blunt head brushed against your clit you moaned. alex knew it was time to give his pretty wife what she craved for.

close to eight inches of cock.

with a hand on your thigh, he hissed through grit teeth over the feeling of you sinking down on him. a soft noise left your mouth as you planted your hands on either side of his torso to get leverage as you started to move up and down on his impressive size.

he held onto your hips and guided you up and down on his cock. the pleasure was a live wire on your body as you bounced on it. he licked his lips at the feeling of your pussy being a vice around his cock.

you felt like a fucking dream.

well, what else did he expect? of course, the pussy of his future wife was going to be perfect for him.

you really worked his cock, the sight of your breasts moving with every thrust of your hips against him. the heat stained your cheeks as you panted heavily. you looked heavenly.

alex felt the curl of pleasure in his gut as he watched you ride him. you were such a perfect fit for him. it made his heart hammer. he was very lucky that he got to meet his wife at this stupid resort.

"you're so perfect for me." he groaned.

you nodded in response, "you feel great too, alex. you're just so good for me." of course he was, he was your (future) husband after all!

he chuckled and rubbed your hip with his thigh, "well, i guess we're two peas in a pod." before another groan left his lips as you pussy rubbed up against sensitive parts of his cock.

you continued the pace you were working with, your face felt stinging hot and your body felt good all over. a heightened sense of pleasure as you bounced on his cock.

he wanted you every way he could have you and if he got his way by the end of the trip, then he'd have all the time in the world to feel every inch of you.

"such a cute little pussy."

"ah, please, alex!" you whimpered, you were painfully close. so alex took a firmer hold of your hips and moved you up and down his cock. letting him have more control.

your cunt was an enticing thing.

"good girl, all for me." he said in a soft tone that made you feel like you had honey in your skull.

you gave a few more thrusts before your pussy clenched around his cock and you climaxed. you let out such a cute little moan that it almost made alex finish on the spot.

you were just full of so many surprises, weren't you?

he soon after finished inside of you, his cum spurting into the back of your pussy (where is all belonged). he groaned at the rush all over his body. he rubbed the softness of your hips before you got comfortable next to him on the bed.

he pulled the thin white bed sheet over your lower half. he eyed your breasts a little bit, seeing the rise and fall of your chest. it made his cock harden a little bit.

he rubbed your shoulder and gazed at your. his gaze was loving yet obsessive. why wouldn't he be? he wanted to make sure he never forgot every curve of the future mrs. keller.

you spend the rest of your vacation with your future husband between your legs like he had belonged there since the universe was created. it wasn't until you were packing that you realized that neither you or alex had condoms.

and you weren't on hormonal birth control.

-

you ended up a long way from home by the end of the summer. your flight back to your home city was changed to where alex was living.

you had a nice gold band with a pretty little diamond in it, alex picked it out for you the day after you arrived back in the sleepy french village he spent most of his time in. you were almost mad at your parents for how well they took it, alex seemed like a great guy when he invited them to come visit. he wanted to know his in-laws.

by september, when you were supposed to go back to campus, you had a hands-y husband trying to see if there was noticeable bump in your middle. as you made him dinner, he'd drape his arms around your waist and poke at your middle.

"c'mon, little guy. daddy wants to feel ya."

you let him feel for the child he made with you on that nice vacation to the bahamas. there were still a lot of secrets to alex keller, but as he invaded your space and kissed at your neck it all seemed to fade away.

after all, he believed that his child needed his father. so you better brush up on your french before the due date. <3

[shion-yu]

Day 30: Contagion

We made it, folks! I really pushed myself to finish @sicktember and I’m so proud I did. For this last work I decided to just let go and do something different. TW for fictional contagion and some mess. Like, contagion is all it is. Which is not something I usually write, but I was inspired by @poetryandsniffles “Going Around” at 3am. It starts with unnamed characters and ends with you. Hope someone enjoys this. As you guys might know, snz isn't fully my thing but I know I have a lot of followers for whom it is, so this is for you. 1,933 words, TW fictional contagion.

It’s Saturday, and all the new freshmen students are moving into the dorms down the street. The bookseller is ready for them, knowing all the students are eager to exercise their first taste of freedom and want to window shop in their new college town. It's probably his busiest day of the year, which is why he absolutely cannot close the store despite the wretched cold he woke up with. He has a cough that won't let him finish a sentence without interrupting himself, and being surrounded by all the used books is making the sneezes that overtake him every minute even worse. He’s putting an old tome of Shakespeare away when he hears the bell ring, signaling a customer. He closes the book and accidentally inhales a noseful of dust. He tries to say, “Welcome,” but instead all he gets out is “Wehh - heee - ahh hatchoo!” 

“Bless you!” It's definitely a freshman, round glasses overtaking half her face and her little homemade clay earrings dangling on either side. 

“Tdangks,” the bookseller mumbles, snorting a huge noseful of congestion up into his face in an attempt to clear his voice. Apparently that's the wrong move, because it causes him to erupt into a harsh round of coughing that forces him to sit down behind his desk. 

The freshman doesn't seem to mind. She’s too interested in looking around the store, fascinated by the used books. The bookseller nurses his poor nose into the fiftieth tissue of the morning, blowing as hard as he can yet it doesn't seem to clear the congestion. He hasn't been this sick in ages. Why did it have to be today of all days?

“I’ll take this, please.”

The bookseller looks up to find the freshman standing in front of him, holding none other than the thick Shakespeare tome he just put away. The one that he knows he really should have wiped down before shelving. 

“Are you sure you want this one?” He asks hesitantly.

“Why?”

Explaining feels like too much work, and bad business. The bookseller shakes his head. “No reason,” he says, coughing into his elbow. “That’ll be $10.80.”

~.~.~.~

It’s well known that a cold isn't uncommon in the beginning of the semester, but the freshman can't believe it took less than a week for her to get hit with this plague. It’s only the end of the first day of classes when she feels a tickle in her throat that makes her cough. By evening she’s feeling the chill of an incoming fever, and by the next morning she feels like she’s been hit by a bus. This feels worse than just a cold, but it's literally the second day of classes in her first year of university. She can't afford to take a sick day so soon.

And so, the freshman drags herself to her English 101 lecture where she continues to cough and shiver, clutching the hoodie she's wearing around her ever tighter. Her bones ache and she feels like she desperately needs to be in bed, but this lecture is three hours long. Three torturous hours, and it's not a huge class. Everybody can hear her coughing away, she's sure of it. She's so embarrassed by her noisiness - the rustle as she plucks out tissue after tissue from the box she's helplessly taken to carrying around. The petite sniffle she's trying to hold back every few seconds, but if she doesn't her nose will be streaming. The stifled sneezes that more than often result in additional chesty coughs. By the end of the lecture she’s so cold and miserable that she's not sure she's going to make it to her next class, which is chemistry 100. 

Somehow she does, and before most of the other students too. She figures now is a good time to try and blow her nose as loudly as possible. Maybe if she can empty it out, she won't be so disruptive at this lecture. She blows into a tissue hard, and it makes her nose tickle. She can't hold it back, and she scrambles to grab another tissue - but it's too late. She ducks her head to the side and sneezes, uncovered, spraying the space next to her. Thankfully no one’s sat down yet. She hastily tries to clean the desk with the tissue, but she stupidly didn't bring any hand sanitizer and the desk is still gleaming with germs when a boy comes in and sits right next to her. 

He greets her and introduces himself as a football player who’s retaking the class. The freshman can't help but watch in horror as he puts his hands all over the desk, then proceeds to bite his nails. She can't just apologize, but she does so in her head, knowing he’s doomed. 

~.~.~.~

The football player is pretty pissed that he’s managed to catch something already. He doesn't have any time for a cold, especially not so early in the season. It doesn't matter that it’s cold for September, or that it's raining, or that he already had chills before practice started. He’s got to push through for the sake of the team, and also his reputation and scholarship. And he still has to finish that chemistry assignment. Who gives such a long homework in the first two weeks of classes? It should be illegal.

He’s drying off in the locker room, a now very wet cough echoing against the metal lockers. He changes into clean clothes, but he still feels sticky with sweat and rain water. He shivers and shleps off to his chemistry professor's office hours. He needs an extension.

The professor doesn't look happy to see him dripping and sniffling when he shows up at his door. “C’mon, professor, I just need a few days. It's the beginning of the season, I can't fall behind already, and I’m - koff koff koff - sick.”

“I can see that,” the professor says in mild disgust. “But I don't make exceptions. Not even for athletes,” she says before he can protest. 

“That's not fair,” the football player complains. “I really am s-siii-”

The professor tries to duck, but it's too late. The football player sneezes, only poorly half covering. “Sorry,” he says hoarsely.

“I think you'd better go home and lie down,” the professor says in a clipped tone. There's some spray on the corner of her glasses, much to both of their chagrin. “And skip practice tomorrow.”

“Yes ma'am,” the football player says. He’s too ashamed of himself now to keep begging. The professor sprays lysol all over her office and hopes it’ll be enough.

~.~.~.~

It’s not enough. By the end of the week the professor, too, is full of cold. She has to lecture through it, even though she barely has a voice and nearly spills chemical solutions on herself trying to contain her sneezes into her shoulder while holding glass beakers. The students keep blessing her, and that irritates her more than anything because it's their damn fault she’s sick. She's trying to make tenure though, and isn't about to call out, so she pushes through. Every sneeze hitches in the back of her throat as she tries to hold back, making a girlish noise that kills her inside a little. 

She’s already passed the cold along to her husband, your coworker, who has an immune system as good as a preschooler. She can't wait to get home where she can just relax. Her legs are cramping from standing for so long in heels, her makeup is running because of all the congestion, and she keeps making errors while lecturing that she never would otherwise. This cold is so embarrassing and comes with all the visible symptoms: cough, congestion, sneezing, fever. It's impossible to hide.

Her coworkers have even taken notice and mentioned she ought to take it easy, which the professor absolutely will not be doing. So what if she has to cough through her lectures? So what if the students in the front row may or may not be nursing colds of their own in a week? She has to work, that's just how it is. No exceptions, she tells her students. Not even for herself.

~.~.~.~

You can hear your coworker coughing from his cubicle opposite you. Yesterday he said his wife was sick, and today he seems to have brought her cold to share with everyone. How generous of him, you think dryly. You cringe as you hear him blow his nose again, a wet, harsh sound that is the audible equivalent of contagion. And now - oh no. Now he's coming to you.

“I've got the report done,” your coworker says as he approaches. His eyes are red rimmed and watery, nose raw red from blowing and his lips parted in an awkward fashion because he can't breathe properly. And now he's blowing germs all over your desk.

You take the report from him and hope to shoo him away quickly with a thank you, but no such luck. He bends over your desk and starts to explain part of the report that apparently, he finds is not self explanatory enough. You can hear the whistle of blocked sinuses and his voice crackles with congestion. “Does that make sense?” He asks, standing up and sniffling. He runs his temple, clearly also trying to work through a headache.

“Yes, perfect sense,” you tell your coworker. It doesn't matter if it made sense or not, you wish he'd just go away. “You don't look so good. Why don't you go home?” You ask.

“It's not so bad - snrrk!” He says before snorting loudly. “I can deal with it.”

“I see,” you say. And apparently everyone else has to deal with it, too. 

~.~.~.~

You hope you'll get lucky. That Emergen-C and hand sanitizer will save you - but it doesn't. Because a few days later you, too, wake up with an ache in your head and chest and a shiver that won't go away despite several fall layers of clothing. You have a cough that snaps and crackles against your sore throat and the sinus pressure behind your eyes throbs. You haven't even made it out of bed before you're overtaken by a round of three loud sneezes in succession. You’re definitely sick.

Unlike your coworker, you're not about to work through this cold. You feel too lousy, and the fever you're running is way too high to ignore. It's everywhere, this fever: deep in your bones, making everything ache from head to toe. You spend the day in bed, shivering and coughing away. The bed becomes a sea of used tissues, the small trashcan long since overflowing. The fever must be making you emotional, because you can't help but tear up a little when your partner finally comes home. 

“Aw, baby,” they say sympathetically. They press their cold hands against your hot cheeks and wet washcloths to cool you down. They climb into bed with you and cuddle you, your throbbing head and streaming nose in their lap, and don't complain about how you're getting snot all over their knee. “Poor love,” they say. “You’ll be better soon.”

You close your eyes and just listen to your partner’s soothing voice. In a few days, this will all be over, you tell yourself. Whatever this cold or flu from hell is, you’ll be back at it by next week. For right now though, you decide to just rely on your partner completely. Let them dote on you, take care of you, and hope you don’t get them - and didn't get too many others - sick, too.

[skyfallslayer]

Deception From The Heavens || Chapter I

-Modern!Fem!Reader AU-

MAIN MASTERLIST

👑Story Summary: Your pride was going to be the death of you one day. Or… maybe it’ll be sooner than you think. Trying to prove that the history they teach you school is wrong, you use your “gift” to send yourself back in time to get the facts straight. However, something goes wary, and now you’re stuck in probably one of the brutalist places in history: Ancient Rome. Oh! And you so happen to have spawned in the middle of a gladiator game. That’s… fan-freaking-tastic. 

👑Chapter Summary: You’re such an… idiot. You knew you shouldn’t have listened to him, but it’s no big deal. It’s not the first time you’ve gone back in time by accident. Although… you’ve never gone back this far before.

👑Pairings: Emperor Geta x Modern!Fem!Reader; Slight - Emeperor Caracalla x Modern!Fem!Reader

👑Rating: Mature

👑Word Count: 2,798

👑Date: 1/15/25

👑Warning: Minor Blood; Description of Violence; Self Doubt (LMK if I'm missing anything. I only beta this once 😅)

👑A/N: Based on the prompt by @the-holy-pigeon . Hopefully, this lives up to expectations. Enjoy everyone!

You felt everyone’s eyes on you after you spoke. Strangely, it was something that was rare, you were quite used to it by now. Less than a year in College and you were already the “talk” of the campus -- Being the student that your fellow classmates either shook their head in disbelief or your teacher’s wheels turn to quickly. Either way…

You find it hysterical. 

Your teacher fixed her glasses, confusedly asking, “I’m sorry. Repeat that again.”

“Apocryphal.” You said, while straightening your slouching self out. “It means ‘Of a story or statement of doubtful authenticity, although widely circulated as being true’. So, I was just saying your little… statement is Apocryphal.”

“And… why is that?”

“Because, despite everyone thinking she was Egyptian, she’s Greek. Cleopatra comes from a long line Greek Dynasty, and was the first person in her family to actually speak Egyptian.”

“And how do you know this is true?”

“Because it is.”

She sighs, pinching the bridge of her nose. “Miss L/N, just because you believe it is, doesn’t make it true.”

You shrug. “Yeah, I know that.” Then you smirk. “But it is true.”

And I’m not backing down from this as usual. Out of every professor you had in this school, Mrs. White was probably the most tired of your “bull shit”. Yet, she never really fought with you as much as your other professors would. You find it strangely… amusing.

The older woman quietly sighed again before sitting back down at her desk. “Let’s just… read chapters 12-14 for the remainder of class.” She replies, and her students complied, and whisper gratefully under their breaths. 

As you start opening your text book too, your smirk seems to grow a bit more when you swear you heard her mumble something about drinking a whole bottle of whiskey later.

•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°

“I swear, you’re never going to pass school at this rate.”

You cast your gaze up and away from your homework to your best friend since birth, James, who was (as usual) neglecting his own homework and was playing with a ball as he chatted away. The two of you had gone to your normal spot outside, and sat underneath a big oak tree to get away from the madness of campus. 

“We haven’t even finished this semester and you’re already messing up your chances of ever finishing.”

You shrugged and looked back down at your work. “It’s not my fault that they’re passing off false information. I mean, I know it’s been centuries later but come on. Can’t these historians be a little more accurate?”

“You know, you did this shit in middle school too? And high school?” James points, as you shrug again. “You barely passed highschool because you kept arguing with the teachers. I’m surprised they never suspended you.”

You smirk a little. “Maybe because they know I’m right?” Then pokes you hard in the arm. “Ow.”

“Well how do you know?”

You almost sigh and roll your eyes. Lately, these past few weeks, this same conversation between you and him seems to be getting more frequent. Was he finally tired of you not giving him an answer? The same answer that might make him put you in a mental hospital? You start opening your mouth to speak when–

“And do not say ‘I just know’. That’s not an answer.” James pushes, and you shut up. “Y/N/N, come on, seriously, where did you hear this stuff? Did you watch a documentary? Did you read a book? Come on. How are you so sure about all this stuff?”

Now he was looking at you with those eyes that made your stomach flutter. So gentle, so caring, so–

You shake your head. 

There’s no WAY you can tell him the truth! First off, how do you even make him believe you? And it’s not like you used your abilities on another person before -- so how are you going to be able to demonstrate it that sees fit for him?

He says your name that pulls you from your own trance. I mean, could you at least try to explain it to him?

“It’s… complicated. I mean, I want to tell you, James, but I’m not sure you’ll even believe me.” You admit, practically biting your lip as he sits up straighter. 

“Try me.” He says, as you shake your head again.

“James–”

“No, seriously. Try me. I mean, we’re best friends! I’m sure I’ll understand.”

I’m not so sure… But you never know. Maybe he will. You take a deep breath and ask again, “You really want to know how?” He nods eagerly. “Okay.” Another exhale. “I’m a time traveler.”

Oddly, it was kind of satisfying to say that out loud. Your friend however just seemed to stare as the hamster took forever to get the wheel moving in his little head. You counted forty-five seconds before he burst into laughter. Now it was your turn to stare and wait for him to notice your monotone expression. His laugh slowly disappeared, and was replaced with a long gaze again as he tried to pinpoint your emotions.

“Wait.” James said, after another forty-five seconds of nothing. “Seriously?” You nodded yourself as he scratched his head, trying to reprocess this yet again. “H-How? I mean–” He stands straight up with a face full of confusion. “So, what? You’re like Doctor Who or something?”

You hum as you try to think of a comparison. “I was thinking more like The Flash.”

He blinks. “The Flash?”

“Yeah.” You stand up as well, trying to act all nonchalant like you usually do. “I don’t need some telephone booth, or a car to take me through time. I have… powers.”

“Powers?” Another blink and another nod before he laughs once more. “This is insane. Unreal! I mean– I-I would have believed you had a Delorean before you told me you had actual superpowers.”

“Well, what did you want me to do? You asked me the truth, so there it is.”

“Y-Yeah, but powers! I mean, I know you were a little crazy, but come on! That sounds like BS!”

And this is exactly what you had expected. Him rambling on and on at how unreal your answer was (Truth be told though, it does sound a little nutty). Yet, on the brightside, he hasn’t run off from you.

Ain’t that a plus. You thought, as you rack your brain for an idea. “James.” You saying his name seemed to stop his talking and got your attention. “Do you… want me to show you?”

“Huh?”

“My powers. Would me showing you help?”

“Uh… y-yeah. It would.”

“Alright. First things first–” You point. “Check your jean pockets. All of them, and really thoroughly.”

“You want me to check my pockets?” He gives you a weird look. “What does that have to do with–”

“James. Just do it. Jeez…”

To humor you, he does. “Alright. Now what?”

“Just…” You quickly surveyed the area to make sure no one else was around. “Keep your eyes on me.” You take a deep breath, producing a thought and channeling your powers to–

As soon as he saw your eyes glow you were gone.

He nearly jumped out of his own skin from that. Cursing abruptly and looking around to see if he maybe he just blinked and you took off, but…

Then you reappeared.

He let out a bit of shriek in surprise, staring you with those big old orbs of his. “Y/N–”

“Check your back pocket.” You reply with a smirk. You watch him take a second before doing so, feeling around his jeans until he gets a hold of the note you left. Shocked stretched across his features as he opens up to find that you had written:

‘I TOLD YOU SO’

“My… god…” James manages to get out after a while. “You… y-you have powers. Like… real fucking powers.” He cracks a smile and a light laugh. “Holy shit, Y/N!”

“You see? And that’s how I know everything is true.” You explain, as the relief suddenly kicked in. It was like a huge freaking weight was lifted off your chest as soon as he accepted it. Maybe I really shouldn’t have kept it hidden after so long.

“That… everything makes sense now. That’s why you’re so confident in your answers.”

“Yep.” You popped the ‘p’ for extra effect, as he racks his brain for another question.

“So… how’d you know you could do this?” He asks, as it was your turn to think.

“Well… remember that really good ice cream shop we used to go to? The one that closed down.” 

“Yeah.”

“Well, there was one day I was dreaming about that place, and suddenly, before I even knew it, I somehow traveled back to when it was still open.” You explain, remembering how scary and confusing it was once you did it. “It took a bit for me to travel back to the present, and I was about a hundred percent sure I was dreaming it until it happened the following day.”

“Holy shit.” He mutters, processing. “That must have been freaky.”

“Yeah, it was.” You shrugged. “At first, I thought my powers were just triggered by my own memories, but once I figured out that I can travel somewhere farther than that, that’s when I really wanted to put it to good use.”

James raises an eyebrow. “How’d you figure that out?” 

“My grandmother always told stories about her home country. One day I just happened to recall one of her stories and– POOF! I was there. Same time period she lived in.”

“Whoa…”

“This is really rocking your brain, isn’t it?”

“Uh, duh! What did you expect?” He pokes, hands coming to rest on his hips. “I have a follow up question, if I’m allowed to ask.”

“Just one more?” You teased, as he scoffs.

“Y/N/N–”

“Alright, alright.” You laugh. “What is it?”

“How’d you get your powers?”

Annnnnnnnnnnnndddddddddddd…….

That’s when your heart sank. Though, you shouldn’t be that surprised he asked that, right? It was probably the most obvious question to ask but…

It was also extremely painful to remember. The cars, The trucks, The screaming, The burning, and the–

You shuddered, which must have been visible because now his hand was on your shoulder, as he was asking if you were alright. 

“Y/N?”

“The accident.” You managed to say, and it just had barely come out above a whisper. You felt him freeze too, and recall that day as well. “After that accident with us… I somehow gained these powers.”

“How?”

“I don’t know.” You look down at your feet, wondering if you could find the answer down there. “I never really questioned it. I never really knew how to question it. I still don’t.”

To be honest, after a while, you just let that question lie. Sometimes you think it’s best not to know. And maybe it was just fate’s intention to make you this way and nothing else more.

“Who else knows?” He asks, as you look up at him.

“Just you.” You reply, truthfully. “I mean, I don’t really have anybody else in my life other than you.”

He frowns, and breaks eye contact. “Yeah, I guess it just has been us for a while, hasn’t it?”

There was a long pause between you two, which ultimately ended when he started backing up his things.

“Well– I’m starving.” He says, slinging his bag over his shoulder. “Let’s go to Denny’s.”

His response makes you look at him like he had two heads. “Wait… that’s it? That’s all you have to say?”

“Well, what else do you want me to say?”

“Well… you’re not freaked out over this? Or mad that I withheld this for so long? Or… something?”

“That’s a ‘No’ to both so–” He sighs. “I mean, I’ll admit, I’m still a bit freaked out over those powers. I never really suspected something like this happening in real life, but here we are.”

“So, you’re good? We’re cool?” You ask, as his smile immediately calms your nerves.

“Yeah. We’re good. Although…” It turns into a smirk now. “I could be a dick and exploit the whole world and major bank off you, if that’s what you want.”

You scoff, and slap him in the arm. “As if!” You gather your stuff and start following him off campus. “If you do that, I’ll make your life hell.”

“Yeah, I have no doubt you will.” James said, as you beamed with pride. “So, let’s go stuff our faces with pancakes, and let our only worry be is Mrs. White’s stupid homework.”

•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°

The grounds were pretty much all blood at this point. 

But as more of the sacred liquid spilled across the dirt, the louder the cheers got. This was Rome, said to be one of the deadliest places in history. I mean, who wouldn’t consider Rome’s version of the Hunger Games not deadly? Men of all shapes and sizes fought inside the colosseum, all praying to the Gods in the heavens that they be the ones to survive -- to be spared, and maybe freed if someone should give them just a sliver of kindness.

Besides the hungry townsfolk watching from the stands, above in their golden thrones and silky gowns laid bloodthirsty rulers of these lands. The ginger haired twins watched and raved, and licked their lips at the delightful game that had blossomed before them. 

The scruffy man who at first seemed like the underdog of this ring was suddenly fending and slaughtering left to right, causing the crowd to boom even louder and start chanting for him to be the winner. He spit out some blood, and quickly wiped his brow as he stared some of the other men down who were waiting to strike. If he can finish this group off, he’ll be able to survive another day. He twirled the sword in his hand, changing his stance, ready to lunge–

The sky above made a sound like an attack was happening, but before anyone could even think about what caused the noise, you suddenly appeared dead smack in front of the gladiator. 

Smoke had lifted away from your bruised body, the glowing color you gave off disappeared as you moaned quickly at the ache. You force yourself to open your eyes through the throbbing pain in your skull, wincing at the sight of the blazing orange sun above.

What just… did I… Your thoughts swirled in your head like a blender, and as much as you wanted to just lay there, you knew you needed to get up. Your mind goes back to James, and how he…

Wait.

Did you… even end the fight between you two? You wonder this as you sit up, your hands touching–

Sand? You move your fingers around the tiny grits, wondering where–

You froze. You feel someone watching you. Scaredly, you crank your neck up to the person next to you, a man who looked at you with a bewilderment, a man who was holding a very bloody sword was–

He didn’t even get the chance to speak when someone else stabbed in the side of the neck for an instant kill. It wasn’t until your face was coated in spots of red was when you screamed and started scrambling away. It was like your sudden movement caused the remaining gladiators to start fighting again; Some of them even coming after you like you were the prize or big ticket out of the place.

“Nononononononono– I wanna go home! I wanna go home!” You yell, and start to teleport away. Only this time… it felt different. Before you knew it, you had simply just popped out of the arena, and into the stands where all the Senators were. 

You’re not sure how many you knocked over, or how many people in the crowd you heard gasping and screaming at you -- to you, you must be some sort of demon, a bad omen because who in Rome has ever seen a Time Traveling woman before? 

Then you heard someone calling for guards as you tried again. 

And again.

And again.

And again.

And again.

But for some odd reason you could not fucking leave this place! For your sanity you try one more time, mustering all your strength, only for you to repeat history and plop out somewhere else in the colosseum. You landed on what felt like stairs, the sound of people jumping and moving away, guards drawing weapons, and people’s loud chatter. But to be honest, you couldn’t really tell where you were or who these people are, because everything started to go blurry and dark.

Blurry and dark.

.

.

.

.

It was just like the last time.

-Taglist is Open-

@the-holy-pigeon

[trixy812]

Part 1. - Part 2. - Part 3. - Part 4.

🅼🅰🆂🆃🅴🆁🅻🅸🆂🆃

Imagine that you’ve thought about it. About him. About what it would be like to let yourself fall completely into Satoru Gojo’s world—the magnetic pull of his charm, the thrill of his attention, the way he looks at you like you’re the only person who matters. But you also know who he is. He’s Satoru Gojo, and his allure isn’t just for you. His teasing words, that effortless smirk, the way he leans just a little too close—it’s not exclusive.

You’ve seen how other women look at him. How they laugh too loudly at his jokes, how they find any excuse to touch his arm. And worst of all, you’ve seen how he flirts back, just as easily, just as playfully. It drives you mad. You know you have no right to feel this way, but it doesn’t stop the jealousy from creeping in, making your chest ache every time he turns his attention to someone else.

But then, somehow, he always comes back to you.

Imagine that he doesn’t make it easy. He’s always touching you now—light brushes of his hand against your arm, a teasing flick of your hair, or the way he wraps you in a hug every chance he gets. His cologne is strong and intoxicating, a warm mix of something woody and rich that lingers long after he’s gone. You try to ignore the way it makes your head spin, but part of you wonders if he wears it just for you.

And then there are the moments in class. Imagine how you feel the weight of his gaze whenever you speak, his sharp blue eyes boring into you, making you flush under the intensity. You’d pretend not to notice, but it’s impossible to ignore him, especially when he smirks like he knows exactly what he’s doing to you.

“Hey, this place is boring. You and I should run away to Germany together, okay?” he says one day, his voice casual, but his eyes glinting with something deeper. You laugh, because what else can you do? You can’t say yes, but you don’t want to say no either.

“Hey,” he murmurs another time, leaning in just enough that you feel the warmth of his breath. “You’re perfect. In our next life, let’s get married, alright?”

“Hey,” he whispers, his tone softer than you’ve ever heard it. “You’ve got me completely fascinated.”

And just when you think he’s about to cross the line, just when your heart is pounding so loud you’re sure he can hear it, he pulls back. “Nanami must take really good care of you,” he says suddenly, his voice light but the words cutting deeper than they should. “He probably does this for you, right?”

Imagine the way he confuses you, again and again. He gives you just enough to keep you tethered, to make your mind race with possibilities, only to pull the rug out from under you. If he’s playing, you think bitterly, he should at least play fair.

Then imagine the day he tells you he’s going to Germany for a semester abroad.

“What?” you ask, the words coming out sharper than you intended. “So that’s it? We just stop talking?”

He looks at you, surprised, before breaking into that easy, infuriating grin. “No way,” he says immediately, his tone full of confidence. “You’re my best friend. We’re not losing touch, no matter what.”

You want to believe him. But deep down, something about his promise feels fragile, like glass already beginning to crack.

And sure enough, once he’s gone, everything starts to change. At first, you try. You send him messages, trying to work around the time difference, filling the silence with jokes, updates, anything to keep the connection alive. But slowly, his replies become shorter, less frequent, until they stop altogether.

You tell yourself not to take it personally. He’s in a new place, probably busy, probably distracted. But that doesn’t stop the hurt from settling in, a dull ache you carry with you even as you try to move on.

Imagine how, by the end of the semester, you’ve stopped waiting for his replies.

Then imagine the day he returns. You see him from across the campus, his tall frame impossible to miss. His hair is slightly longer, his stride just as confident as ever. For a moment, your breath catches in your throat, and all the memories, all the unresolved feelings, come rushing back.

He spots you too, and for a brief moment, it feels like nothing has changed. He smiles, that same disarming smile that always made you feel like the center of his world. You raise your hand to wave at him, and he starts walking toward you.

But before he can say anything, before he can close the distance, you turn your hand and point to the engagement ring on your finger.

Imagine the way his steps falter, just slightly, the way his smile flickers before he catches himself.

“Hey,” you call out, your voice light, casual, as if your heart isn’t twisting in your chest. “Welcome back.”

He nods, his grin returning, but his eyes—his eyes are harder to read.

“Thanks,” he says, his voice smooth, unaffected. “Congrats, by the way. Nanami must be thrilled.”

And just like that, the gap between you feels wider than ever.

-

@haruhatake - This one's for you 🩷

-

🅼🅰🆂🆃🅴🆁🅻🅸🆂🆃

[paper-mario-wiki]

I'm sure you've been asked this before, but I need a source who isn’t wildly out of touch with what it's like to be a normal person. how financially viable was it to move to japan as a 20/21 year old? did you move there with assistance from a study program? were you able to afford everything relatively easily without an extreme amount of financial stress? sorry for being nosy. I dont need specifics, I'm just terminally curious for a firsthand account from a person who isn't independently wealthy or a 70 year old retiree. ❤️

For one semester of tuition I (my parents) paid:

$5000 without scholarship

$3000 with scholarship

Scholarship was granted on the basis of academic promise and financial guarantor status, and some students had their fees reduced by 75% and 100%.

Tuition was the thing my parent's helped me with the most, as they had saved up for all my siblings to go to college, and only my sister and myself did. But like I said, there was also significant tuition help for students worldwide at my school. Everything else I paid myself.

Before I moved I made sure I had no less than $5000 in pocket money for paying my move-in fees at my apartment, getting a Japanese phone, bank account, insurance, and a bike. After that, home appliances and necessities. When you make your budget, you always want to over prepare. I made sure I had $1000 wiggle room on top of my budget because once youre there, YOURE THERE and home is a long puddle away.

My rent was $600 for a small 1 room apartment (pictured here) that I would have paid less for if I spoke Japanese (paid the gaijin tax by going through an english speaking rental company)

I chose this apartment because of its proximity to the Karasuma subway line, which I could ride directly to school. There and back was about $4 a day, as I went all the way up town. I paid about $40 in utilities on low-use months, and up to $120 on high-use months.

Monthly insurance was $70 without student subsidy, I believe closer to $10 monthly with it. This covers basically everything healthcare-wise.

Food was cheap in Kyoto specifically. Most restaurants had meals under $10, and if you're moving there for school theres a high liklihood you'll be in the city, which means you'll rarely be more than a 3 minute walk from a convenience store which has lunch sets you can take home or reheat and eat in the konbini's sitting area (not guaranteed to have one but more frequent than not having one). I spent maybe a few hundred monthly on meals, mostly because I couldn't cook due to how small my kitchenette was (it's that little stall in the back left corner of the room in the picture).

As an international student, if you're performing above a certain threshhold in your studies you can get a baito visa, meaning on top of your studies you can work a part time job for up to 20 hours a week. This can help a lot, and I knew a few people who worked at clubs, as translators, and as baristas.

If you are making money, you are expected to either pay tax to Japan, or your home country. This is something I absolutely cannot give advice on.

All that said, in my case, living in Japan as a solo adult was easier and significantly more affordable than living in the US with 3 roommates.

[ghostbasin]

— BIRDS OF A FEATHER

Kevin Khatchadourian x Reader. You aren't quite normal, and Kevin can tell. 900 words. Warnings: None so far. Reader gender: Neutral. 🦇 Please feel free to submit requests! 🦇

Notes: This will end up being a series if people want it to be! I do plan on writing more for it and if it doesn't really gain traction I might pause, but for now, you can expect at least 2-3 more updates for this. I've also got some more romance-y imagines/HCs in the works for Kevin, so stay tuned.

In this world, there are more people like Kevin than we like to realize. 

You hadn’t met Kevin yet, but you knew this fact—that people pretended the “oddballs,” the “weirdos” didn’t exist—like the back of your hand. 

As a kid, people always questioned you. You didn’t play like other kids, didn’t flinch like they did when someone jumped out at them, didn’t cry about the monster under the bed and demand to sleep in your parents’ room. 

It’s not like you were ripping eyes out of squirrels or anything, but everyone always thought something was up with you. 

And while you didn’t quite care what constituted “normal” behavior, it was easier to pretend—less questions, less hushed speculations about you in the halls, and less overbearing concern from the grown-ups if you just acted like a normal student. 

Still, nobody’s perfect. 

And it’s no wonder that when Kevin saw a flicker of himself in you, he was completely devoted to unraveling you—dissecting you—to find out just what was so different about you. 

***

Junior year of high school rolls around, and your schedule is packed. Honors and AP courses wash down your schedule page like a tide, and you come to realize that maybe you should pay a little attention this year. That, however, didn’t stop you from assuming your usual position in each class—second row to the back, one over from the wall. 

Students filtered in, jostling bags around the haphazardly built desks as everyone scrambled to sit in at least near proximity to any friends who shared the same class. While the room was abuzz now, you knew that AP history wouldn’t facilitate such energy after a few weeks. No one in their right mind is pumped for history class at 8AM. 

You sighed, taking out a folder and a few pens, as the desks around you filled. To your right, a girl you recognized as a member of the cheer team. The row behind you filled with kids you knew planned to talk or sleep through every instance of history class, and then the seat to your right filled. 

Kevin. 

You’d never met him, but it wasn’t hard to see the name on his schedule placed neatly in the corner of his desk. You glanced discreetly at him as he settled in, then trained your eyes back to the front of the room. Within minutes, the teacher was droning on—the syllabus, the final, homework and late policies. Things that were already written down but, for some reason, needed to be verbalized anyway. 

You watched as classmates either scribbled in the margins of their syllabus, ripped staples out of it absentmindedly, or stared blankly at the front as the teacher spoke. You could already tell which kids were going to burn out halfway through the semester, which ones thought their AP history grade would make or break college, and which ones simply didn’t not give a damn about who won what war and where and when. 

As your eyes flickered from the back of one classmate’s head to the next, you couldn’t help but notice how everyone’s eyes were facing the front—everyone except his. 

Kevin’s. 

You glanced sideways at him and your eyes met, him studying you as you studied the class, neither of you focusing on what nonsense note-taking strategy the teacher swore would be a life-saver in his class this semester. 

And Kevin was, sure enough, fascinated. Anyone else would’ve looked away shyly, embarrassed to be caught staring at someone. You, however,  just locked eyes and looked at him with as much interest as he looked at you—which wasn’t much outwardly, but inwardly, you were both wondering the same thing. 

Why is this person looking at me, or, more importantly, what does this mean about this person? 

After about a minute, you did break eye contact. Not because you cared about making eye contact with some random classmate, but because you didn’t want the teacher to start up about focusing, paying attention, being a diligent student if he noticed you two locking eyes. 

The full class period passed without you two acknowledging the others’ existence again, and when the bell rang, students filtered out. You packed your bag orderly, with each folder and notebook having a place, and slung it onto your shoulder. Heading to the door, you noticed something. 

He was watching you again. 

Not in a creepy, “I’m about to come after you” way, but in the casual way you watch people passing by while waiting to meet up with a friend. Kevin leaned against the wall as classmates walked out the door beside him, and you approached as well. 

You stopped walking just in front of him, eye to eye. You tilt your head slightly and watch him—not looking at him, but watching him. His eyes flickered between yours, your hair, the way your bag sat on your shoulder, even how you stood as you watched him. He wasn’t staring, but taking you in, and you could only begin to piece together whatever story he was brewing in his mind about you. 

It lasted for about 20 seconds, before other students needed to exit and you stepped outside of the room to avoid blocking traffic—no need to make enemies for being slow. Without turning, you kept heading to your next class, but you wondered what would await tomorrow morning when you and Kevin saw each other again.

[toournextadventure]

everyone but her pt.19

Summary: Fall semester is in full swing and Wednesday agrees to go on a triple date with you and the gang to the Harvest Festival. But when you get a call in the middle of the festival, everyone's lives change. And not for the better.

Word Count: 6.8k Warnings: character death, swearing, physical injury, depictions of grief, flashbacks (bolded italics), emotional abuse, abusive parents Pairing: Wednesday x Reader (everyone but her Masterlist) Taglist: @extinctspino @basichextechml @cfvgbhndun-new-blog @jinxscatbomb @awolfcsworld @suzhiman @gengen64 @eclipsesmoonshine14 @alexkolax @thenextdawn @cacciatricediartemide @cozwaenot @the-night-owl-blr @natashasapphic @parkersmyth @alilbitlesbian @irish-piece-of-trash @rainbow-love4ever @audigay @bakugounuggets @myfturn @rockwyn @bigbadsofty07 @andsoigotabutterfly @captainbeat

The fall semester could not have come soon enough.

After Lurch had picked her up and brought her back, Wednesday had walked into her own home and felt lonely. Something was missing, and that something was you, and she was so mad at you for ruining the peaceful atmosphere she had spent so long crafting in her home. The perfectly sculpted silence now felt broken and incomplete.

Damn you.

You exchanged letters throughout the rest of the summer. Each one detailing your work at the ice cream shop with Bo, or helping Tio with his construction company, or including letters from your siblings. Emily made sure to write, and Daniel would send her updates on your thoughts. Those were always fun, even if they were rather mundane.

There were occasions when you would appear at the house, whether it was before visiting Nicky or after. You would only ever stay the one evening and night, but Wednesday looked forward to them. Even though you were usually far too tired to do anything but relax, it was simply your presence that made the days feel normal.

Somehow, some way, you had wormed your way into Wednesday’s daily life and routines. She would hate you for it if she didn’t feel so strongly for you.

She got back to Nevermore a week before you did. It gave her enough time to settle in, get back into her regular school routine, and reacquaint herself with Nevermore's scenes. But she would be gravely mistaken to believe your absence didn't affect her at Nevermore either. Even Enid commented on her "excessive moping" before you arrived.

You finally showed up halfway through the first day of classes. It had already been unusual enough to go through the first few classes without having you there to doodle on her papers and distract her. The moment she saw you walking with Weems through the courtyard, it felt a little less empty. There was something off putting about you walking around in something other than your Nevermore uniform, but that was something she could get used to.

Surprisingly, you were tasked with practically being a teacher’s assistant. More often than not, Wednesday found you in the teacher’s lounge grading papers, or preparing documents for the next week, or whatever else everyone could think of. The best days were where she would see you during class, with you sitting in the back doing whatever the teacher had instructed.

Those were the days Wednesday would sit in the back with you, letting you hold her hand under the table while you worked and she listened.

You had admitted one night after her writing hour that it was essentially just a job to give you something to do. Weems knew you couldn’t just spend the year doing nothing, so she had basically created a position for you. Wednesday could see you deflate a little at the admission, only picking yourself back up when you got back to talking about all the things you “got” to do.

The first few weeks were easy to get used to. While Wednesday would study and you would work, you both still found time for Saturday morning coffees or occasional trips down to visit Nicky. More often than not, you would invite Wednesday to go with you, having just enough money for the bus trip to and from the hospital each Sunday. She was even becoming a regular, and Nurse Jackie always greeted her with a warm smile.

It was on one of these bus trips back that you brought up an idea that you thought was rather genius.

“The harvest festival is this week,” you said. 

It was easy to hear you from the seats at the back of the bus. After enough trips you had both picked up on the fact that if you sat at the back, your vehicle anxiety eased considerably. Then add the repeat trips and you were almost a professional. Your leg still bounced and you still played with Wednesday’s fingers, but it was progress.

“Indeed,” Wednesday answered. “Enid is very much looking forward to it.”

“We should go,” you said. Your eyes were focused on her fingers; you also couldn’t sit by the window or look out of it. That was okay, she enjoyed the view. “We could make it a triple date.”

“Who would be the third couple?” She asked, turning to look at you and the small smile on your face.

“Ajax and Kent.”

“They’re not a couple.”

“They certainly act like it,” you teased.

“The harvest festival is where teenagers go to act like imbeciles and show off their subpar skills at carnival games,” Wednesday said even though she already knew how this conversation was going to end. It always ended the same.

“But we are teenagers who act like imbeciles and show off our subpar skills,” you said without looking up. “It’s what you like about us.”

“It’s what I like about you,” she said aloud and froze. You stopped playing with her fingers for a moment before continuing.

“Well then I can’t wait to try for an hour to win you a carnival bear,” you said with a tone of finality that Wednesday couldn’t argue with.

Throughout the week, everyone continuously brought up the harvest festival and what they were all excited for. The trio was excited for a ferris wheel, Kent and Ajax were excited about the food, and you were excited about the games. Even though you admitted you weren’t sure you had the money for it.

She slowly snuck a little bit of money into your wallet each day before the festival. You never noticed.

“Alright, where to?” Enid asked once everyone had gotten off the bus at the festival. You were already holding Wednesday’s hand; for tonight, she would allow it.

“Food first,” Ajax said with a nod.

“You’ve just got the munchies,” you said with a snort.

“I absolutely do,” he replied with his own smile.

“Ferris wheel,” Kent said. “That way Divina will shut up about it.”

“I’ll kill you,” Divina shot back instantly.

“If you kill me, you won’t get your “romantic” kiss,” he teased.

“Your death won’t stop me,” she said, “it might even make it more enjoyable.”

“No homicide,” Yoko cut in. “I’m not talking to the police tonight.”

“What about tomorrow?” You asked, pulling Wednesday along to get the group moving somewhere. “Fun tonight, homicide tomorrow.”

“You’ve been hanging around Wednesday too much,” Yoko mumbled.

Wednesday pretended not to see the smile on your face or the way you squeezed her hand lightly. Everyone quieted down the faux arguing and started getting down to what everyone wanted to do. They all made their way to the ferris wheel first where you climbed in and pulled her close. If she leaned into your side when the ride got started, or kissed you once when she was certain no one would see, neither one of you would admit it.

“Did you and Ajax kiss at the top?” Divina asked once everyone got off.

“Full make out,” Kent said with a nod.

“With tongue,” Ajax continued. Your laugh made Wednesday’s stomach turn.

After the ferris wheel - which the trio wanted to ride four times in a row - it was on to get some food. Ajax and Kent got an obscene amount of food that was enough for the whole group. Unfortunately, so did you and Enid. Wednesday waited at the table with Yoko and Divina, waiting impatiently for you to come back.

“Oh god,” Yoko said when the four of you came over to the table with what had to probably be over a hundred dollars worth of food.

“It’s vital for our health,” you said when you plopped down beside Wednesday and scooted some fries in her direction.

“You mean for our health,” Yoko said with a glare directed at you. “You all get hangry.”

“Enid and I need it,” you said. Your thigh pressed against Wednesday’s and she felt your thumb rubbing her knee. It was comforting, yet discreet. Perfect.

“What about those two chucklefucks?” Divina asked, pointing her finger at Ajax and Kent who were absolutely hypnotised by their food.

“They’re just high,” you shrugged with a smile before shoveling some more fries into your mouth.

Conversation was easy when everyone was sitting around eating. You had pushed all your food in between you and Wednesday, silently urging her to eat. And she did. Everyone knew you weren’t necessarily one to share for no reason, and she certainly wasn’t going to turn you down. After all, the smile on your face was more than enough to convince her to continue.

You looked happy. It was one of the few public outings, outside of Nevermore, that you had let your wings free for the night. There had been an uncertainty in your movements at the beginning of the night, but now that everyone was laughing and having fun? All uncertainty was gone and you were almost, almost confident. Your wings would twitch and ruffle when you laughed, or they would give a little flap when you were excited. They stayed close to your body, but they were free. You were free.

“Wanna go on some rides next?” Ajax asked once everyone had eaten their fill. Well, Kent and Ajax had eaten more than their fill, but that was alright. No one was complaining.

“I think we’re gonna play some games,” you said, pulling Wednesday closer to your side. No one commented, but she saw the smirk on Yoko’s face.

“Then let’s meet back here in 30 minutes?” Divina asked, and everyone agreed before they all walked off.

“Come on,” you said once everyone had left. “I’m winning you one of those stupid bears.”

“You’re going to spend all of your money before you can win it,” Wednesday said simply, but allowed you to pull her along after you anyway.

“Then I’ll be broke and happy,” you said with a smile.

She had been right; you were losing your money far faster than you were able to win anything. The only bright side was that you had her hold your wallet, and she would slip a few more dollars in while you were focused. Much like the past week, you still didn’t notice.

There was one game that you ended up being successful at; the small, rigged shooting range. With a precision that only came from hundreds of hours of practice, you hit the bullseye on each target, your face scrunched up in concentration and your tongue sticking out of the side of your mouth. You managed to knock over every target on your first try.

“Here you go,” you said when you handed over the small stuffed crocodile. “Told you I’d win it.”

“Win a different one,” Wednesday challenged.

“You don’t like him?” You asked as you eyed the crocodile. “I thought he was pretty cute.”

“I think Nicky would appreciate him more,” she said with the smallest smile. You looked at the crocodile for a little longer before nodding.

“You’re right,” you said. “You’re much more of the pink teddy bear type.”

“You wouldn’t dare,” Wednesday whispered.

“Watch me,” you shot back. She didn’t have time to argue before you leaned forward and pressed a chaste kiss to her lips.

In public.

Oh, you were getting bold.

Wednesday’s pout was still present when you both walked back to the meet up spot, a stuffed animal in each arm. Wednesday was now carrying the crocodile and a pink teddy bear while you were carrying two of the biggest stuffed gorillas she believed she had ever seen. But when she saw your grin now stretched from ear to ear, she couldn’t tell you how ridiculous it was. Not that night, at least.

“Jesus fuck,” Yoko said once everyone finally came into view, “what is that monstrosity?”

“I won it for my boys,” you shot back as you dropped the giant gorillas into Kent’s and Ajax’s arms. “Can’t leave them empty handed.”

“You’re all so weird,” Divina said with a roll of her eyes.

“You’re just jealous because your girlfriends are useless,” Kent said. He flinched when Enid fake-lunged at him.

“Y/N’s your girlfriend now?” Wednesday asked, looking up to meet Kent’s and Ajax’s gaze.

“Uh-”

“-Well-”

“-Be nice,” you chuckled while both boys floundered in their response. “They know their place.”

“Do they?” Yoko asked as Wednesday felt your pocket vibrate. You looked at the phone in confusion for a second.

“Hey, give me a sec,” you said, patting her shoulder once before you walked away. “Hello?”

They watched you walk away from the group for only a moment before continuing the conversation, but Wednesday stayed watching you. She listened to the group, of course, but her eyes were focused on you. You had started pacing and she took note of the way you were fluttering your fingers. 

The longer the call went on, the more frantic you looked. You ran your hand over your hair and looked around with wide eyes. She wasn’t with you but she knew you weren’t really seeing anything; simply looking for something to keep yourself grounded. Your hand remained on the top of your head until you stilled and your phone slowly slid out of your hand until it hit the ground.

She saw the light reflect off a tear falling from your right eye.

Your wings extended and you jumped into the air, flying off before anyone could even notice.

—---

Faster.

The cool fall air stung your lungs with every breath you took.

Faster.

The burn in the muscles beneath your wings was practically unbearable; too little use had eliminated any sort of endurance you used to have.

Fucking faster!

You let out a frustrated scream as you tried to push yourself harder, faster than you had ever flown before. The wind hurt your face and your lungs and your fingers were going numb but you didn’t care. None of that mattered because you had to get there, you had to get there now.

If you could get moving a little bit faster then you could get there in 20 minutes and then you could-

-it felt like a bolt of lightning struck the back of your brain. The bolt raced through every inch, every fold. You let out another scream as your wings faltered.

“Back straight, Y/N, and shoulders back.”

“Why can’t you be normal like your brother?”

“Don’t you understand what this is doing to our family?”

A warm hug, hands pressing tight against the base of your wings. It hurt, but the hug just felt too good.

“What will the senator think about this? The mayor?”

“Y/N, you know I love you. So why won’t you just do this simple thing?”

“If you won’t put them away, I’ll cut them off.”

The pain was too much. It felt like your head was throbbing and your brain was trying to push your eyes out of their sockets. Your hands flew to your eyes to put pressure on them as your wings faltered again and you fell a few hundred feet before catching yourself.

“Oh yes, she’s doing wonderfully, we’ll make a prodigy of her yet.”

“You love us, don’t you, darling? This is for your own good, you know that.”

“Your parents have high hopes for you, young lady. Don’t disappoint them.”

“It’s just you and me, little bird.”

“Y/N.”

“Y/N!”

Another scream slipped past your lips as your wings finally gave in, the pain in your head finally rushing down your spine. The wind whipped past your face as you plummeted back to the ground, and you only just had enough time to cover your face before hitting the trees and ground below.

Everything hurt. It hurt so bad. Everywhere throbbed or burned or stung or just flat out ached. You rolled onto your stomach and pushed yourself up to your hands and knees, coughing until you could spit out the gunk in your mouth. It was blood.

Your father helped you smooth the dress down, pressing tight against your wings until they were completely hidden. He gave you a simple kiss before whispering “you wouldn’t tell anyone about those things without permission, would you?” You shook your head and he smiled.

Nicky held your hand as you watched your mother and father continue to talk with the lawyer man from down the street. They were supposed to be done, it was bedtime. Didn’t they know you were waiting?

“You will tarnish our name if you keep up this nonsense.”

“You wouldn’t want to hurt me, would you, darling?”

Your ankle was sprained, you could tell that much when you finished the struggle to push yourself up to your feet. The thoughts - were they memories? - continued to rush through your head with every beat of your heart. It didn’t matter, none of it mattered, you needed to go. Your wing was sprained but it could last another 20 minutes. With a clumsy jump into the air, you started your journey again.

The hospital looked different in the dark. It looked less welcoming. Fitting. You could feel the dirt stuck to your knees and elbows fall to the ground as you skip-ran through the halls. Only one thing was on your mind and you had to get there, he was right up there, you had to get there, Jackie needed to move out of the fucking way.

You crashed into the doorframe.

It was horrifically quiet.

“I’m so sorry, darling.”

Why was it so quiet?

“We didn’t want to interrupt your night out.”

Why wasn’t the heart monitor on?

“The experts said it was futile.”

Or the ventilator?

“It was only prolonging the inevitable.”

Your eyes turned to the far side of the room where Marcus and Kristi were standing. Why were they there? Couldn’t they hear how quiet the room was? It was never quiet. Why were they giving you that look?

“I’m sorry, darling,” Marcus said softly. “This is the merciful thing to do.”

You inhaled sharply once your lungs started burning. Had you not been breathing? Surely you had. Your heart felt like it wanted to burst out of your chest. It hurt. Why would it hurt? Everything was fine, it was okay, it was just too quiet. Once the noises started back up, everything would be fine.

But why couldn’t you bring yourself to look at him?

Marcus was suddenly standing in front of you, a sad smile on his face. Why was he sad? Everything was fine, it was all okay.

“You look disastrous,” he said softly. He lifted his hand to cup your cheek and oh.

Oh.

You sighed involuntarily, almost even whimpered as you leaned into his touch. Oh, it was nice. His hand was warm and soft and comforting. When had he done this last? When had he last let you lean into his touch?

“You simply must behave,” your father said softly once he had pulled you away from the party. “Just smile.” He cupped your cheek; his hand practically covered the entire half of your face. His hands were soft. They were home.

“You know it was necessary,” Marcus said. From the way you were leaning into his hand, you were in the perfect position to look at Nicky.

All the equipment had been removed.

Why had they taken it away?

“They’re an abomination!” Your father yelled. “Either you keep them hidden, or I have them removed!” You cupped your hands over your ears; he always yelled so loud.

“Come here, darling,” Marcus whispered, pulling you into a hug and tucking your head into his neck. His arms wrapped around you so tight and you could feel your eyes stinging and your head was still pounding and-

“-Daddy,” you choked out around the sob that was stuck in your throat. 

Your next breath was watery, scratchy, and you let out another strangled whimper before grabbing the back of his shirt so tightly your fingers ached. The tears continued to fall down your cheeks and stain his shirt and your cries echoed through the room, but he was holding you. He was holding you, and you could hear him saying something into your ear and he was acting like your father. Nine years you had waited for that hug, and it felt better than you ever could have imagined.

But why did it have to be because of Nicky?

It was impossible to look away from him. You were holding Marcus so close and it almost felt like home again but you couldn’t quit looking. His eyes were closed but you could feel him staring back at you. Through the pounding in your head and the memories that wouldn’t quit, you could hear him. Hear him banging against your skull and wailing and asking why.

It was so terrifyingly quiet.

“That’s quite enough now,” Marcus said softly into your ear. “Smiths don’t cry, remember?”

No. No, Smiths don’t cry, he was right. You held back the cries until it physically hurt. Held them back until you felt nothing, nothing at all, and you wondered if maybe that was how Nicky had felt before they had made their decision. Had he felt numb? Had he felt anything at all?

“That’s better,” Marcus said as he pulled away and held you at arm’s distance.

“We have paperwork to sign,” Kristi said softly. That was rather unusual; she must have been feeling particularly emotional. “We’ll give you time to say your goodbyes.”

Kristi walked out of the room, her hand brushing lightly against yours. You flinched. Then it was Marcus’ turn. He squeezed your shoulders lightly and stepped around you - please don’t let me go. For a moment, his fingers brushed against your dirt covered wings; you shivered violently. Please do it again.

“Put those things away before we get back,” he said with a smile.

He walked away.

The room was quiet.

Nicky was just laying there; if you didn’t think about it too hard, he almost looked asleep. That was good, right? Yeah, he was asleep. You should go over there. You should go over there and talk to him. It was awfully rude, you hadn’t even said hello to him yet.

But your feet wouldn’t move. They wouldn’t take the steps to get to the side of the bed where you could check if he had stubble that needed shaving. He would need a nice shave if Marcus and Kristi were there. You should go over and check. Just go check.

Or you should put your wings away first. Marcus said so, you should put them away. Your eyes looked all over the room - skipping over Nicky in his bed - but found nothing. Oh, right, it wasn’t your dorm. You didn’t have an extra harness. That was okay, you could tuck them under your jacket for now. Right?

Every joint in your body ached, but you managed to pull the jacket over your wings. The holes were still in the back, but it was okay. Marcus just said to put them away. You just needed to take a deep breath and go say hi to Nicky and they would come back and you could all be a family, right?

Right?

You didn’t recall walking yourself over to the side of the bed. That was okay though, you were still trying to wade through memory after memory that was resurfacing. The migraine hadn’t gone away but it was okay. Everything was fine. You couldn’t see Nicky’s chest moving but it was fine.

He was sleeping.

The room was too quiet.

His hand looked terribly lonely there, resting on top of the bedsheets. It had been a little while since you had held his hand. But Wednesday had held it last week; she had commented on how warm it was. He was always warm. Maybe it was something in the family, because she always said the same thing about you. All you needed to do was reach out, hold his hand, feel how warm it was, and everything would be fine.

Everything was fine.

His hand was cold. It was cold, and his fingers didn’t move the same, and it was too limp. Why was he cold? It was fall, sure, but the room was warm. Maybe he just needed an extra blanket, and then he would be fine.

Everything was fine.

The room was too quiet.

The memories continued to pound memories into your brain like nails. It felt like you were nothing more than a glorified pincushion. But that was okay, because the memories meant everything was okay. People were supposed to have memories, right? It was supposed to happen.

You climbed into the bed, curling up into Nicky’s side and resting your head on his chest. It was quiet. He was cold. But it was okay. Everything was fine. He just needed someone to warm him up and then he would be okay. Your lungs were burning and your chest hurt and you wanted to scream, but it was okay.

The room was too quiet.

Your thoughts were too loud.

Maybe if you just closed your eyes for a few minutes, let the memories play on the back of your eyelids. That would help a bit, wouldn’t it? Give your brain time to burn itself out, settle back into the usual patterns. No more memories, no more thoughts, just silence.

You wished your head was silent.

“Wake up, darling.”

Your mouth tasted like ash and felt like cotton. There was a hand gently shaking your shoulder and your eyes felt heavy as you looked around. Nicky was still sleeping beneath you. Good, he needed the rest. But why couldn’t they let you rest too? You had been working hard, you had been up late, you were hurting. You could rest too, right?

“We need to go gather your things,” Marcus continued. He pushed your shoulder just enough to roll you off of Nicky. “You’ll stay with us while we plan the funeral.”

Why would you be planning a funeral? Who had died? It had to be a family member, that was the only reason Marcus and Kristi would be there. Yes, that had to be it. A family member had died. A shame, truly, hopefully it was someone you remembered.

Arms reached under your back and behind your knees and you felt yourself being lifted out of the bed. Warm hands, strong hands held you close, and with a shaky sigh, you leaned into the body underneath you. He smelled nice; like tobacco and mint. Just like you remembered.

Hopefully he wouldn’t notice the tear stain you left on the collar of his shirt.

You stared at the hole in your jeans. It hadn’t been there earlier, had it? No, it must have happened after your fall. One of the tree branches had to have caught it just right, it would explain the dark stain spreading out from it. A simple scratch, nothing more.

You were so focused on the hole in your jeans that you didn’t see Nurse Jackie move toward you, or hear her tell you she was sorry.

You didn’t notice anything. You were simply numb.

It was still too quiet.

—---

Wednesday was losing her mind and she didn’t care who noticed.

You had vanished and left your phone and there was no way anyone could have gotten a hold of you. She had immediately left to tell Weems, and after handing the phone over, Weems’ face fell. Why? She didn’t explain, but it was enough to set Wednesday on edge.

Everyone had gotten back to Nevermore and you still weren’t there. You were still missing, and no one had heard from you, and no one even knew what to do. No warning, no nothing. And as Wednesday paced the floor while the entire group watched, she felt even more on edge.

They needed to quit staring at her.

“It was probably just an emergency,” Divina said after Wednesday had completed what was probably the 37th lap around the room.

“She looked panicked,” Wednesday said.

“She always looks panicked,” Ajax cut in. “It’s a normal look, I bet she’s fine.”

“Why wouldn’t she warn anyone?” Wednesday asked. “Emergency or not, she left without notice.”

“You know she doesn’t think things through like that,” Enid said softly. She had tried to comfort Wednesday at first, but after realising it was a failed task, she had settled down on Wednesday’s bed.

You should have been settled on her bed.

“I’m going to talk to Weems,” Wednesday decided aloud. “I’ll be back.”

No one bothered trying to stop her as she walked out of the room and made her way downstairs. Weems had insisted on staying downstairs in case you came back so it was easy to find her. She hadn’t even gotten herself a chair to sit down on, instead just standing at the top of the stairs and watching out at the gate.

“You know where she is,” Wednesday said as she sidled up next to Weems. Neither one of them looked at each other.

“I have a hunch,” Weems answered. “I pray I’m wrong.”

“If you’re not?”

“Then you had better learn how to be comforting,” she said with a sad smile. “Quickly.”

Oh. Oh so it was serious. This wasn’t some simple emergency, this was going to be something devastating. Wednesday’s mind wracked through everything that could have been the culprit. Your family was the logical conclusion, but who? Had one of the kids gotten hurt? Had your aunt been in an accident on the way back to Portland? Or maybe it was Abuelita, she was rather old. Hopefully it wasn’t-

-a car pulled through the gate and up to the entrance, and a man and woman stepped out. She recognised the woman as Kristi, and instantly she felt the desire to commit a felony. But the man she didn’t recognise at all. He went to the passenger rear door and opened it, helping someone out.

And there you stood, with dead eyes and scratches and dirt and dried blood all over you. You moved forward with a limp, and you still weren’t looking up. She heard Weems inhale sharply as she held her hands together tightly, knuckles turned ghostly white.

“We’re here to grab a few things,” the man said. He had your lips. “She’s coming home while we plan the funeral.” A funeral?

You still weren’t moving or looking up at anyone. Wednesday wanted you to look up, to say something, to act like more than a zombie. You couldn’t just leave like that and come back like this and not expect anyone to worry. She wouldn’t admit it out loud but she was worried.

“Shall I go help her?” The man asked once no one had said anything.

He looked like you; you had his face. The same eyes and curve of the nose. His hair was the same too, and though he was just an inch or two shorter than you, Wednesday could clearly see the resemblance. Your father, the one you had never truly talked about but had eluded to on a few occasions. Which, as Wednesday connected the dots, would make Kristi your mother.

Things were making a bit more sense.

“Miss Addams will take her,” Weems said with a faux smile. “You two shall stay down here with me while we discuss the situation.”

“Very well,” your father said with his own mock smile. His seemed far more predatory as she turned to look at you. “You’ll need about two weeks worth, darling.”

Oh, Wednesday didn’t like him at all. She hoped he saw the glare she was giving him because if it was up to her, she would have destroyed him. Physically? Emotionally? She wasn’t sure, she just knew he deserved to be punished for something. Anything.

She didn’t wait for anyone else to say anything before reaching out and grabbing your hand-

-her own head flew back as that unexpected electric shock went through every nerve in her body.

A grave was being dug as a crowd approached. Tears fell down your cheeks but you didn’t dare utter a noise.

The sound of flesh pounding into flesh and screams of rage following quickly after.

“I worked with your father,” an accented voice said, “and I want my pound of flesh.”

A werewolf howl.

Your face, smiling a bloody smile.

Wednesday steadied herself quickly and pulled you along, ignoring the looks everyone was giving her. Except for you, of course; you still had yet to look up. She was thankful you could at least function enough to walk up the stairs and make the trek to your dorm.

Once your door shut behind the both of you, she let go of your hand and watched you. Watched as a tear slowly, silently slipped down your cheek. There was the slightest quiver of your bottom lip and that familiar shake of your hands. What was going on in your head? What had happened?

“Y/N?” Wednesday asked once you still hadn’t moved for the next few minutes. You blinked once, slowly, before turning to look at her.

You were crying.

“I’ll be right back,” you said in such a broken voice that Wednesday’s heart hurt.

You stumbled your way to the bathroom and shut the door, and Wednesday was left to stand there in the middle of your room. Part of her debated packing some things for you; your father had said two weeks, hadn’t he? There was no way you were going to be able to pack it all yourself, not in your current state.

“You had better learn to be comforting,” Weems' voice echoed in her head. It was terrifying advice because she wasn’t good at comfort. It didn’t matter how many times she asked Enid or Yoko, or how many times she rehearsed it in her head, she was no good at comforting someone. And now that you desperately, clearly needed it, she wasn’t sure if she could do it.

But she could at least be helpful. She could help pack your things and make it a little easier for you. So that’s exactly what she did. Her shoes thudded against the floor as she walked around, grabbing the clothing she knew you preferred to wear. Sweats, a pair of jeans, some of your favourite shirts. You didn’t have much, but she still knew your preferences. She even threw one of her own jackets into the bag for you for some extra comfort.

She was in the process of finding your socks when something crashed in your bathroom. Her body acted on instinct as she ran to the door, her hand flying to the doorknob. It was locked, and she could hear another crash and what sounded like a muffled scream.

“Y/N,” Wednesday called out, but the sounds didn’t stop. “Open the door.”

That muffled scream sounded a little louder, and Wednesday could hear the heartbreak in it. The utter devastation, completely reminiscent of when Nero had been brutally murdered. It was horrifying, almost a wail, and it sounded painful. Almost like your throat couldn’t handle the sounds it was producing.

“Open the door,” Wednesday said again, a little louder, a little more bold.

Another crash, another scream, a thud.

That’s it, Wednesday thought as she looked around your room. She knew you kept bobby pins on your desk, top left drawer. Her shoes made the same thud that had come from your bathroom as she walked over and grabbed the bobby pin. It would work perfectly.

With the precision that only came from practice, she picked the lock to your bathroom door and threw it open. She stopped in the doorway as she took in the scene. The singular mirror was broken and the shards lay littered across the floor. Bottles were thrown around and the towel rack had been ripped off the wall.

There in the middle of the floor, leaning against the tub, was you. You with your hands gripping your head and tears falling down your face and another wail just begging to fall from your lips. Your knees were pulled up to your chest and you were rocking back and forth.

And Wednesday didn’t know what to do.

She could see one or two shards of glass sticking to your palms and the blood was slowly dripping down your arms, but she didn’t know what to do. There was too much to do. Did she help you remove the glass? Or comfort you emotionally? Did she clean up the bathroom so you wouldn’t hurt yourself again?

What did she need to do?

“I’m sorry,” you said, your voice sounding watery and like you couldn’t breathe properly. Maybe you couldn’t. “I’ll fix it, I’m sorry.”

Now that was devastating.

You kept mumbling you were sorry while Wednesday walked across the broken glass until she could sit down beside you. She could see blooming bruises on your arms in the shape of fingers; they hadn’t been there before. You were bloody and bruised and broken and she didn’t know how to help you. What would help you?

“I’ll fix it,” you mumbled again, and Wednesday took note of the erratic, hazy look in your eyes and she didn’t know what to do.

But when you squeezed your eyes shut and gripped your head even tighter as if to hold all your thoughts in. Your mumbling was getting more incoherent and your fingers were digging deeper into your skin and you needed to stop. You were going to hurt yourself, you needed to stop.

In a split second decision, Wednesday took a gamble. She reached over and wrapped her arms around you, squeezing you tight and holding you still.

“Don’t touch me,” you practically cried as you attempted to push her away. But she didn’t let go. “Let me go.”

But your feeble attempts at pushing her away soon ended as you leaned into her and cried. No, it wasn’t just crying, you sobbed. Held her shirt so tight she swore she heard it rip, but she didn’t care. She just held you and let you sob those painful sounding cries and mumble your unintelligible words.

She didn’t know how long she sat there with you. How long you cried and soaked her shirt and probably bruised her side with how tightly you were holding her in return. A tear or two slipped from her own eyes, and she was thankful you couldn’t see or hear her. But seeing you this broken, this completely devastated? It was impossible to witness.

“It’s my fault,” you cried after a while. Wednesday didn’t question what you meant; it wasn’t the proper timing. “I killed him.”

Him?

Oh.

You pulled away before Wednesday could say anything. After all, what could she say? She didn’t know all the details, and had no idea what had gone on during the night. She knew it wasn’t your fault, of course, but she had no idea about anything else. What would she say to you?

“I need to go,” you whispered, and Wednesday watched helplessly as you violently wiped your eyes and nose dry and stood up. “My daddy is waiting.”

You walked out of the room with bloody palms and a blood stained face, and Wednesday got up quickly to follow. For a moment, you stood in the middle of your room and looked around; looking, but not seeing. You looked utterly lost, and Wednesday wanted to pull you into another hug because… well, because you looked like you needed one.

She didn’t want you to be alone.

But you shook your head and looked around again, grabbing the bag she had packed for you. The only other thing you grabbed was your harness, dragging it on the floor as you started to walk out of the room without her. She took care to turn your light off and close the door before chasing after you.

Everyone was still waiting at the school entrance when you both made it back down. You didn’t even bother looking at Weems before heading to the car and threw your stuff into the back. No goodbye, no lingering looks, nothing. You simply crawled into the car and shut the door behind you.

“We shall send you the details once they have been solidified,” your father said with that predatory mock smile as he and your mother walked back to the car.

Wednesday and Weems watched as they got into the car and pulled away with you, broken, in the back.

“She will never be the same without him,” Weems said softly. Wednesday looked up just in time to see a tear fall down her cheek. No, Wednesday thought as she looked back out to see the rear lights on the car. You wouldn’t be the same; you were broken.

[darksigns-exe]

be my angel | one - august 1991

Pairing: Nick Ruffilo x Teddie (OFC) Warnings: Swearing, Alcohol Consumption Word Count: 2.5k 

Be My Angel Masterlist Masterlist

Let me know if you want to be tagged in future updates <3

The red brick building rises in front of her. For a brief moment, Teddie wonders if she has the right address. This is less of a house and more of a warehouse, she thinks. But this is the address Angie gave her. She’s hung out with Angie plenty of times, but had somehow never ended up at her home. A brief flash of what would momma think of this flies through her head, before she shakes the thought from her mind again. 

Teddie gives herself a second to settle herself, she wipes the sweat from her brow before she presses the button next to the apartment number Angie had given her. A long moment passes, and Teddie wonders if she should have worn something different. She feels awfully sweaty and warm already. Who could have known that the city would be this hot. 

“Hello?” Angie’s voice comes from the voice with her usual singsong. 

“It’s me.” she feels so awfully awkward, “Teddie.” 

She knows Angie, this should be easy. But this is a big thing, and it’s a little terrifying. If Noah doesn’t like her, she’ll have to look for another place to stay. Angie’s offer had been a true blessing. The places she had looked at so far had either been so far out of her price range that it had made her cry, or inhabited by more roaches than people. Teddie had looked at one other apartment in her range, only to find that the people she would have to share it were the worst kind of art students. Snobby assholes that had only made her feel like less than she already did. Not exactly something Teddie wanted to experience every day. 

Angie buzzes her in. The apartment is on the fourth floor, and thankfully the building is equipped with an elevator. Moving in would have been a nightmare without one. The ride up feels as if it is hours long. Teddie tries to imagine what the place look like, what Noah will be like, but her mind draws entirely blank. 

The elevator doors slide open. 

Angie is leaning in the open door, clearly excited to see her. 

“There you are!” Teddie is immediately wrapped into a too tight embrace, “Come in. Come in.”

Teddie doesn’t have time to respond before Angie tugs her into the apartment. She’s faced with a large, open room. Clearly, this has been some kind of industrial space before it was turned into an apartment. Large windows line one of the walls, and Teddie starts to understand why Angie lives here. The lighting is gorgeous, and she can already imagine herself enjoying working here. 

“Have a little look around. I’m gonna go and get Noah.” she announces, before rushing off into a different part of the place. 

This all is almost too perfect. There is so much space here – more space than in her first semester dorm room, at least. Some of the pieces on the walls are Angie’s, but in between them are other wonderfully detailed graphite illustrations. Delicate little things that are filled with intricate details, most of which surely fly right over her head. She wonders if some of them are Noah’s. 

Teddie knows that he’s in the Illustration programme, but beyond that she knows very little about him. Angie has told her that he’s good to live with, that he cleans up after himself, and that he doesn’t make too much noise. 

“This is Noah.” Angela shoves the boy forward into the room. 

He towers over both of them, even when Angie is quite a bit taller than her already. He stands a solid foot above Teddie, but he somehow still manages to be the least intimidating person in the room. Noah gives an endearingly awkward wave, before Angie smacks him square on the back, “You’re never this silent. Jesus, have some manners.” 

Noah frowns at her words, and Teddie can’t help but laugh. He looks so horribly offended, but almost immediately breaks into an impossibly boyish laugh. 

“Angie said you do Fine Arts?” he asks then. 

She swears that she recognises the voice from somewhere. 

“Did you take Mrs. Langston’s Anatomy class?” 

She’s sure that she heard him there. He had to have been seated in front of her, because she’s sure that she would have remembered the tattoos that litter his body. 

His face lights up in recognition at that, “You did that hand study, right? The one that she went on and on about?” 

Fate seems to be sealed after that. The conversation just keeps flowing from one thing to another. Noah is so animated when he talks, but it never feels over done. She likes how passionate he is about his work, how dedicated he seems to be to creating things. And when he tells her about the graphic novel he’s working on with some friends, she swears that he grows a few inches taller. He’s infectious, asks questions about her work, about where’s from, how she got here. And it all feels a little too good to be true. 

Two weeks later, Noah is helping her lug the last of her stuff up the stairs. Of course, the elevator had been out of service for the entire week. She’s been around the apartment a few times in the last few weeks, slowly moving things over that she didn’t need in the dorm room, just to make the move a little lighter. 

At the same time, Noah had started to drag her around to meet his friends. The number of people he refers to as friends honestly amazes her. Angie has assured her that Noah refers to most people as friends, and that he has already called Teddie a friend when talking to other people. It’s a little endearing. 

Noah sets down the box he’s been carrying, “How come this is the first I hear about your fancy camera?” 

“It’s just a hobby.” she says quickly, because really that’s all it is. 

She’s brought the camera with her first pay cheque here. A used thing that just does what it supposed to. If it had been entirely up to her, Teddie would have signed up for the photography programme, but alas, attending an art based college was already pretty far outside the box her parents had imagined for her. 

Teddie can practically see the gears turning in his head. Noah is up to something, and she isn’t sure if she likes that. She’s picked up on his mischief fairly quickly. In the weeks since they’ve been introduced, he’d shown up in her favourite study spots over and over again. And really, Teddie didn’t mind it too much, not when he’d immediately drag her off to a much nicer and less populated spot. 

Just a few days earlier, he had found her working on a new sketch in one of the studios. And instead of letting her work in silence, he’d dragged her up to a most definitely off-limits section of the roof. They’d spent the rest of the afternoon up there in the sun working on their respective projects. It was nice to spent time with someone who knew the value of what they did, who understood that art comes in all shapes and that just because her illustrations were gentle delicate things they weren’t less valuable than his graphite works. 

Maybe that all had sealed the thought that had flickered through her mind when they had sat around the living room during that first night. They would get along perfectly. 

In the brief few weeks since Teddie had moved in, Noah had made a great effort to make her a part of his plans. He’d allowed her exactly one day of mulling around the apartment, before he’d dragged her along to the record store he worked in, claiming that she needed to meet some new people and that anything would be better than sitting inside all day again. 

Spending time with him and his friends felt easy and after the lacklustre roommates she’d had in her first year she is more than glad to have someone to hang out with. Once she’d learned that the record store was perfectly placed on the way home from the lecture halls, she started to stop by there so that they could head home together. And after a week of picking him up like that, she’d made a few observations. He doesn’t seem fazed by the shocking number of girls that flirt with him when he rings up their purchases. She’d been so sure that he and Angie had at least a little bit of a thing going on, but unless they were exceptionally secretive about it, she had noticed nothing like that happening. Not that it was a bad thing. Whatever works for them.  

Noah’s friends had been just as quick to let her into their circle, and she has grown rather fond of them. And while she doesn’t feel like that much of an outsider any more, she still feels as if she moves on the outside perimeter of their group. She’s there, but she doesn’t know a lot of the jokes they have, and she has no idea which name connects to some of the faces she meets. Teddie tries her best to remember, but when Noah brings home yet another one of his friends, she isn’t sure if that’s Jesse or someone else entirely. She learns that it was Jesse when he comes over again – and again. 

She’s sure that she’ll learn it all with time, but for now she feels as if she’s been tossed into the deep end of the pool without knowing how to swim. It’s like her first week in the city all over again. 

At the end of her first month in the apartment, Angie moves out. They’ve planned a little get-together in a nearby bar. Teddie had been glad to help, and it felt nice to do something in return for Angie setting her up with a place to live. 

The bar, according to Noah, is their usual place. They won’t have to worry about making too much noise or disturbing other patrons. Teddie briefly worries about the scale of the occasion, if Noah is concerned about them making too much noise. She should be used to the fact that New York is so much louder than her little backwater hometown, but it still always surprises her a little. 

The send-off is supposed to be comparatively small. Within an hour after the time, they’d told everyone the bar is packed to the brim. Teddie recognises merely a handful of people, most of them are entirely new faces to her. 

Teddie shoves herself into one of the booths. Socialising with so many people she doesn’t know is becoming exhausting fairly quickly and knowing Noah and Angie, they’ll be here for a while. 

Teddie isn’t sure if the kid next to her is even allowed to be inside a bar yet, but he seems to be having fun, and she’s not going to question it for now. So far, she’s been able to glean that he works with Noah and that his name is Nick, but that everyone calls him Folio because there’s another Nick that came before him. Teddie decides that she likes him. Everything he says seems to be followed by a witty little one-liner, most of which make him laugh more than the people around him. Despite, or maybe because of, his talkative nature, she’s inclined to believe that he hasn’t talked to a lot of girls yet. It’s sweet. 

She feels a little out of place, despite knowing a good amount of the people here. Many of them have grown up in the city, and sometimes Teddie feels as if she knows nothing about life. Sure, she’s seen a few things before she came here, but hearing the other girls gathered around the table talk about their latest conquests makes her feel awfully prude. She heard a few of them ask Noah about someone named Matt, and Noah tells all of them the same thing: they’ll be back soon. She doesn’t know who they are, but judging from the faint trace of excitement on Noah’s face, Teddie is just that she’ll find out soon enough. 

Noah shoves another drink towards her. Teddie has lost count of how many drinks she’s had hours ago. Everything is starting to blur into one. Her head is going to pound with that tell-tale ache tomorrow morning, but she’s laughing so much that her belly hurts and maybe for the first time since she came here she feels as if she’s actually part of a group. She lets her head drop to Noah’s shoulder. 

She’ll miss Angie. It’s bittersweet because as much as she’ll miss her, Teddie is just as happy about the opportunities this will give her.

Slowly but surely people are saying their goodbyes to Angie. Teddie doesn’t dare to check the watch on her wrist. Noah will tell her when he’s ready to head home. 

She isn’t sure how much time has passed when Noah grabs her by the shoulders, giving her a gentle shake. 

“Ted? Teddie?” his finger snap in front her face, “Come on, get up. We’re going home.” 

Only when the comparatively cool night air hits her face does she start to feel a little more cognizant again. Her head still feels so awfully fuzzy. 

They’re halfway down the block when Noah speaks up again. 

“You have that fancy camera, right?”

Teddie nods. 

“Why didn’t you bring it tonight?” She can’t quite place the tone of his voice. 

It’s somewhere between worry and genuine curiosity, she thinks. 

“I didn’t want to impose. I don’t know everyone that well and —” she doesn’t actually know why she hasn’t taken it. It would have been the perfect opportunity. 

“I think you should have brought it, but I get it. New people.” Noah reasons, “I was thinking…a friend of mine is playing a show here with his band in a couple of weeks. They’re looking for someone to take pictures of it — do you think you could?”

Teddie doesn’t know how to reply. She has never taken pictures of a concert before. And knowing Noah and his friends, it won’t be the stuff she’s used to from home either. 

“Think about it.”

That night, Teddie lies awake in her bed. Maybe now is the time for her to start doing the things that she’d normally be so very scared of. Noah wouldn’t have asked her if he wouldn’t believe in her skill, at least a little bit. Maybe it’s naive – Teddie has learned the hard way that her easy trust in people doesn’t always end well. But she has no reason to question Noah’s intention. And in the end, all of this is about becoming her own person. She won’t know unless she tries it. 

The whirring of her fan lulls her to sleep that night, and it almost feels as if she’s back home. In the morning, she’ll tell Noah that’ll take the pictures, but right now Teddie lets herself enjoy the nostalgia. If she tries hard enough, the gentle buzz of the distant traffic almost sounds like the creek behind her parent's yard.

[cheeriecherrymain]

viktor is a cat, no i do not take criticism

you're right and you should say it.

The Likeness Of Men And Cats [Oneshot] Pairing: Viktor x Reader Rating: T Proofread: no beta we die like men Synopsis: You acquire a cat for the first time, and make a startling connection between it and your best friend, Viktor. Of course, you now have to test your theory: is the man you're crushing on actually several cats in a trenchcoat?

You’ve worked with Viktor for years. Six years, in fact, if you started all the way back in your first year at the academy.

You hadn’t had much interest in him, then. He was just another face in the crowded classroom, just another hand that got raised whenever your professors asked a question. He was smart, sure, but no more than some of the other people in your peer group.

Only once you’d been assigned to a group project did you really start getting to know him - and his less than stellar reputation around campus.

Your friends had all given you their condolences when you’d told them who you’d be working with for the semester, each of them sprouting off some story or another about an interaction they’d had with this Viktor.

And the more you got to know him, the more you realized their stories were true.

He was blunt, and logical to a fault. He refused to take breaks, for either his or your sake - even when you’d been about to pass out from sleep deprivation, he’d merely sighed and told you to sleep, then, if you need it. He frustrated you to no end.

And the more you got to know him, the more you realized your friends’ tales were…wrong.

You had hardly wanted bad blood between you and the man you were supposed to be working with for the whole semester, so you’d stuck it out. You’d been friendly, made yourself approachable, listened to him when he spoke and tried to include him in conversations.

And eventually he opened up.

Shared little jokes with you, brought little snacks to your study sessions so you wouldn’t go hungry. He showed a profound sense of compassion, the deeper your chats got, and a truly spectacular desire to change the world for the better.

It only made sense that you’d fall in love with him. Stupidly, terribly in love.

Even now, years after you’d graduated and moved onto your own projects, you still got heart palpitations whenever you spent time with him. Which happened to be most days, what with your work coinciding so closely. You’re certain that one of these days, the persistent thrum in your chest is simply going to stop, and you’re going to perish.

All because of him, and his stupid handsome face, and his stupid beautiful brain.

And it’s not like you hadn’t tried to tell him how you felt! You’re not the kind of person to just stand there stewing in your feelings for years without trying to resolve them!

He was just…not interested. You dropped hint after hint after hint, suggesting you spend time together to catch up, or maybe go out to lunch, or even dinner. You’d flirted with him so openly that even Jayce was cringing from your efforts!

But he never reciprocated.

Jayce had tried to comfort you one evening, after a particularly rough afternoon of thirsting after your best friend. He probably just doesn’t realize you’re trying to uhh…woo him, he’d said, in a vain attempt at calming your roiling emotions.

Didn’t realize. Right.

You’d been heartbroken for so long after being rejected by Viktor, lost in thought and unable to effectively work. Making excuse after excuse as to why you were ‘out of sorts’ and ‘not feeling well’.

That is…until now.

Three weeks ago, you’d…come into the possession of a soft, fuzzy creature. Or she’d come into possession of you? 

Either way, you’d found a cat. Skinny, mottled black and white, covered in fleas - she’d woken you up in the middle of a fateful night, screaming haplessly from your balcony where she’d gotten stuck. The moment you opened the sliding door, she’d run inside and had since refused to leave.

It had been hectic in the first couple days, particularly when you were trying to get her into the bath to remove all the built up dirt and dust from her fur. But you’d gotten her settled eventually, and since then she’s become a staple in your everyday routine.

It had taken you a while to really notice the patterns in her behavior, and to connect the dots.

Your cat behaved an awful lot like Viktor.

Rather, Viktor behaved an awful lot like a cat.

Bringing you little gifts for no apparent reason, typically in the form of snacks or trinkets. Preferring to sit in the same place as you and work separately, as opposed to actively engaging in conversation. Only showing you his softer side once he knew he could trust you. Even the few times he touched you, he did so in the most unusual way you’d ever seen - running a hand down your arm, or your back.

Not unlike a cat brushing up against its companion.

Looking back, knowing what you know now, you feel…stupid. For disregarding the man you loved so easily, for not clueing into his way of expressing love.

Because of course he loved you!

…probably.

Maybe.

…you need to test your theory.

—

The next day is when you begin Phase One of your plan.

You spent the entire night working on a detailed month-long set of experiments, subtle enough that Viktor wouldn’t think your actions were too weird or out of the blue. In the event that you were wrong in your hypothesis, you would be able to chalk your behaviour up to…

…to…

…wanting to switch things up a bit?

So, truthfully, you hadn’t really thought much about it at all. You’d actually fallen asleep with your face smashed into your desk around ten in the evening, and by the time your alarm had started blaring, you had to scramble to make sense of what little you’d scribbled down.

“Good afternoon, my brilliant men of science!” you cheer, skipping into the lab in your typical loud fashion, your arms full with a large cardboard box that had steam wafting from between its creases.

Viktor hums a quiet greeting from across the room, barely paying you any mind as he continues to focus on his current project.

Jayce, on the other hand, looks over the moment you set foot in the room, making a beeline towards you when he sees you struggling with your parcel.

“What’s in the box?” he wonders, watching over your shoulder as you set it out on one of the free desks, and begin to unfold the flaps.

“Lunch!” you reply, finally revealing a bunch of smaller boxes packed tightly within. “I know you two don’t always have time to run out to grab something to eat, so I thought I’d do it for you. It’s important to keep your energy up when you’re using your brains so much.”

Jayce wastes no time in helping you unpack everything you’d brought, opening up each little package to discover the treasures that lay inside. It’s mostly foods that you know Viktor likes - a couple of baked goods, some potato dumplings, a thermos of root stew, some little swirly breads. 

In no time, he’s fixed himself a plate and gone back to his own workplace, leaving you to stand alone by the feast.

Looking at Viktor.

Who was looking at you.

Looking at you with the most suspicion you’ve ever seen him wear, with his eyes narrowed in thought and his shoulders held tight and square.

“Why?” he asks, glancing between you and the food.

“What do you mean, why?”

His brows pull together slightly, adding to the absolute absurdity of his expression.

“What’s the catch?” he reiterates, finally rising from his seat to slink towards you. “You never bring us lunch. Ever. What’s the occasion?”

You shrug nonchalantly.

“Why would I need a reason to be nice?” you ask. You supposed you could just tell him what you were up to - you doubt he’d be upset with you if you did. He’d probably just be curious about your theory.

The only issue was that if he knew, it might skew your data. If he knew what you were looking for, he might try to react in a way that he thought you’d like - or in a way that would purposefully fuck with you.

No, it would be better if you didn’t tell him. At least not yet.

“V, I’m all for asking questions, but please stop trying to dissect a good thing?” Jayce pleads from the other side of the room, casting over his best impression of a kicked puppy.

You’re pretty sure he knows what you’re up to.

Viktor, in any case, appears to be momentarily placated by your explanation, poor as it was. You know that he’s going to wonder about it eventually, but for now you’ve got time. You’ve got time to sit and eat lunch with your two best friends, and hopefully think up some better excuses.

—

You continue bringing the two of them lunch for the next week. Jayce remains completely unbothered by the situation, and even offers to help once you tell him what your master plan is.

He knows how down bad you are for your friend, and you’re certain that he’s fully sick of listening to you lament about how pretty he is and how badly your heart aches.

Viktor hasn’t mentioned anything since the first day of your new routine, either, but you can tell he’s just as suspicious as he was at the start. His gaze is always sharp when you clatter into the room with another box of food, watching intently while you unpack, remaining trained on you while he makes his way over to hesitantly scoop some up for himself.

Almost like he’s waiting for some kind of reaction out of you.

But you give him nothing, no hints as to what your plan is. You wait patiently while he fixes himself a plate, asking him how his day has been or perhaps about what he’s working on, smiling softly all the while.

It’s exactly one week to the day when you burst into the lab again, followed closely by your loud and raucous announcement of your presence, only to be met with silence.

“I’m afraid Jayce isn’t here today,” Viktor sighs from behind a stack of notebooks, not even bothering to turn his attention away from the formulas he’s copying down.

You, however, are undeterred, continuing your trail into the room, over to your usual table where you are about to begin Phase Two of testing your theory.

“I know,” you reply, setting your things down. “He said he had a thing with Mel today - and a busy week, too.”

You can see from the corner of your eye as your friend finally turns away from his work.

“You knew he wouldn’t be here?” he wonders, utterly perplexed. When you hum your confirmation, he continues, “Then why did you bother coming?”

That alone is enough to give you pause, glancing towards him in confusion.

“Why wouldn’t I?” you ask.

You stare at each other for a couple of seconds, before he shrugs and makes a noncommittal grumble, turning back to his papers.

He…thought you wouldn’t come? If it was just him, he thought…you wouldn’t even bother showing up. As if he wasn’t your best friend, and the love of your life, and the brightest part of your day? Like he couldn’t possibly be the reason for your kindness?

Your heart clenches.

In silence, you fix him a plate of the little foods you know he’ll like; you’d gone out of your way to pick out a couple of his favourites today, having suspected that he might be difficult to persuade without Jayce nearby to bully him into eating.

“Here,” you tell him, softly, setting the plate on the desk beside him. You set your hand on his shoulder for a brief moment, letting your fingertips wander down his arm, and then turn away to head back to your own work.

Knowing Viktor, he’d prefer the silence over active conversation. It was easier for him when the other half of HexTech was around to act as a buffer and keep your endless desire to talk entertained. But today, when it’s just the two of you? You know you’ve overstepped your bounds in the past, pushing him into a state of discomfort with your constant chattering.

But not today.

Today, you’ve brought your own work with you, fully intent on sitting quietly with your best friend while you both eat your meals. You had the entire hour to catch up on grading your students’ tests - grades they’d been hassling you about for a while now.

It’s a little bit uncomfortable at first, to not talk while you know he’s nearby. There are things from your day that you want to share with him - something funny that one of your first-years said to you, the gossip you’ve heard about other faculty members.

But you resist.

Viktor, on the other hand, only makes it about ten minutes.

All at once, the incessant scribbling of his pen stops, followed by a deep sigh, and the quiet clatter of the utensil being set down. A creak in his chair, as he turns towards you.

“Have I done something to offend you?” he inquires, bluntly, as usual.

You glance up from your pile of papers with wide eyes, surprised by the suddenness of his question.

“No?” you reply, “Why would you think that?”

He sighs again, his gaze wandering away from yours and down to the floor. He looks hesitant, the same sort of hesitant that he’d been when taking the food you offered to him: like he was waiting for something to happen. 

Like he was waiting for you to…to announce that you were playing some kind of absurd prank-

Oh.

“You’ve hardly said a word to me today,” he mumbles, crossing his arms on the back of his chair so he can rest his head between them.

“But…you like the quiet?” you reply, far more meek than you’d intended to be. Had he been taking your entire experiment as some kind of mean joke on him? Had he already known that he was reminiscent of a cat? Did he think you were making fun of him for it?

“Yes!” he retorts quickly, running a hand through his already-mussed hair. “But you’re always talking! To me, to Jayce - about your students, or some shitty scholarly article you read! You’ve been acting strange for the entire week. First the food, and now this - are you okay? Are you-”

“Viktor, breathe!” you squeak.

The moment you see the worry in his eyes, you jump to your feet and make your way over to him. Taking his face in your heads, despite your better judgment or regard to the rules of your plan. Stroking your thumbs slowly over the curve of his cheeks, holding him close while he forced himself to relax and slow his breathing.

You’ve never seen him so outwardly worried about you.

“Look,” you murmur, “I just…I care about you. A lot. And I feel like sometimes I…do a pretty shitty job of showing it.”

Slowly, you let your hands slide down to rest atop his shoulders.

“I’m always after you to take better care of yourself, but I never actually do anything to help. And - and I always push conversations on you, even though I know you’d rather work on your own projects.”

With a dejected sigh, you remove your hands from him completely, “Even now. My first instinct when trying to comfort you is to touch you, even though I know you don’t really like it.”

Idly, you fiddle with the edges of your sleeves.

“I just want to make you happy, but…I know I can be annoying, sometimes. I’m sorry.”

The air is thick between the two of you after that. You can’t for the life of you figure out what else you should say, if anything - you can’t even bring yourself to look him in the eye. Instead, you turn on your heel and wobble back to your seat, trying your hardest to keep the hot sting of tears from reaching your eyes.

You feel like an idiot.

Your entire plan was stupid, and your theory was stupid, and wanting to test it? Stupid!

So caught up in your own thoughts, you don’t even notice the sound of a chair being dragged across the room, over to where you sit. Only when Viktor shoves it right up beside you and plops down nearly in your lap do you jostle out of your own head.

Staring up at him with wide eyes.

“You think you’re annoying?” he asks, nearly incredulous. “I never have anything to contribute to your conversations - never have any stories or adventures of my own to share. You have to carry all our interactions! And you…think you’re annoying?”

You scoff softly. “I mean, most of my other colleagues tolerate me, and only barely. Do you know how many break room conversations I’ve accidentally overheard about me?”

He grumbles a bit, letting his head roll sideways to carefully knock against the curve of your shoulder. 

“This isn’t about them,” he insists. “You’re not annoying. I enjoy listening to you talk - you always have interesting perspectives on subjects that I rarely consider.”

He tilts his face up, then, staring up at you from mere inches away with a sort of intensity that makes your cheeks nearly catch fire.

“And I also like it when you remind me to take a break. You know how I am about keeping track of time - if there isn’t an alarm, I’ll sit and work until I pass out.”

Slowly, oh so slowly, you lean towards him. Gently, tenderly, with an affection that makes your chest ache - you bonk your forehead against his, the barest of touches, but the most intimate you’ve ever been with him.

And all at once, his face lights up into a bright, rosy hue.

Much like how you had connected the dots a week ago, all the pieces fall into place in his mind. One by one, clicking together to form an entire beautiful picture: a story of your friendship, finally understanding.

“You…” he begins, trailing off as he tilts his head up by a fraction, drawing you into a kiss you’ve both been waiting years for.

[lavendermin]

Please share your professor Welt Yang thoughts, I've brought snacks for us!!! ☺️🍉🍫🧁🍙🍓

(I fear this will awaken something in me)

- 🍪

took 3-5 business days to arrange my thoughts since it was just feral babbling in my melted brain. But!!! We are ready now ☝️

suggestive toward the end, what can I say. I want to get in his professor pants sorry

Professor Welt Yang who is obviously the crush of quite a few university students, though I’d think he would be the oblivious type who just thinks of it as silly faculty gossip. His lectures are always very popular and at full capacity each semester.

Of course you aren’t immune to his serious yet gentle charm either. And while working on grad school you go to him for certain advice and pointers for your thesis. It becomes a more and more frequent thing, so much that you have his office hours memorized at this point.

Conversation is easy with him. And you’ll admit sometimes you go and start a random topic off with a broad question just to hear Welt talk in that deep voice of his. You could hear him talk for hours if he’d let you.

Of course this man is dense and dumb as rocks when it comes to even taking the hint that you are down so bad for him. Just have some patience with him.

You’ll catch him at the university’s cafe grabbing a quick lunch and coffee which turns into effortless conversation just to stay with him a little longer. At your one-on-ones you’ll even bring him a coffee when you stop by. Kind gesture or wiggling your way into his mind? You would never reveal.

There are little things here and there that you start to do that will leave you on his mind more often.

It’ll start with visits for advice on your material and projects. You are easy to get along with and even have some insightful commentary on the topics he speaks about.

Then come the complimentary coffees you bring— sometimes even some suggestions you bring to mix it up. He always enjoys them and thanks you for going out of your way to bring him the most delicate blends and flavors.

Then come the few invites to lunch. First at the university’s cafe to continue the conversations. After a few weeks you offer lunch at nearby places just outside campus. “It’ll make a nice change of scenery and the weather is lovely for a walk today, don’t you think, Professor Yang?” you’ll suggest oh so sweetly. And with that kind and genuine smile you give, how could he refuse? There are some subconscious thoughts that go through his mind wondering if you’re his favorite student. A strange one indeed given you took his lecture last semester and others a few years while you worked on your bachelor’s, but aren’t a student of his currently.

Your meetings during his office hours continue— a bit more scattered throughout the week and with more days in between. Welt starts to look forward to seeing you in his office, two coffees in hand. Lately he’s all you can think about. It becomes more of a frequent guilty pleasure as you show up in tight pencil skirts and button up blouses that reveal a lacy set underneath if his eyes linger too long. You apologize for constant formal attire, throwing in some excuse about recent project presentations and an internship you began. His eyes follow you when you move to leave his office, eyes glued to the way the pencil skirt hugs all your curves in ways that have him a little dazed with new thoughts.

You start showing up on Fridays and later than usual to his office, skirt length just a little higher sometimes and giving him a tease with how your stockings complement your plush thighs so well. You apologize deeply for catching him at the end of his office hours— and before the weekend, no less. The campus is mostly empty with majority of students having left and only a few faculty still around. Your professor, being the kind soul he is, of course tells you it’s always a pleasure to have you in his office. And your attire today certainly is… special.

“Apologies, professor, I have a dinner later with some friends and don’t have time to go home and change,” you explain as you head toward his desk in practiced motions. Your weekly routines. Welt shuts the door, assuring you it’s no issue.

But it is an issue. His heart hammers rapidly in his chest as his eyes take in your attire against their will. How could a simple black dress hug your body in such a sinful way? Or was it just his mind?

His heart is swaying and his feelings will go through some internal turmoil as he begins to realize that his feelings are something more.

Still, ever the professional, he takes a seat at his desk and offers you the one in front of him. Same routine. Just another meeting.

And you break routine. Or break him.

His eyes follow your every move and gesture as you begin explaining some issues you’ve had with your thesis edits and research. Being so close to him, he can catch the subtle scent of your perfume. A warm and subtle citrus.

You apologize briefly, telling him you have to leave soon but needed his advice to get some edits done over the weekend. No need to apologize of course. His eyes follow your every move as you apply some lipstick on while he looks over your file that you emailed over. His heart beats louder and there are some images that come forth in his mind that he has to will away. He has long succumbed to these… questionable thoughts. And that’s putting it lightly.

“Professor?”

Oh. He had been staring idly, not even realizing you were so close to him now. Damn, he hasn’t even looked over the file yet.

Your sultry voice still rings like blaring alarms in his brain. He clears his throat and says he will look the files over more thoroughly and send you an email so you’re not late to your dinner.

Your laugh is heavenly as you point to something on the screen of note on the file. Something he doesn’t even register as his eyes immediately fall to the way your chest is mere inches from his face as you bend near him. The revealing low cut of your dress leaves little to the imagination.

“Professor Yang.” Your voice is just above a whisper, pulling his attention once more.

“Yes?”

“Can I kiss you?” you ask simply, hand on his shoulder making the skin under his dress shirt feel like it’s on fire.

Heat spreads to his entire body, mind blank. His eyes dart to your lips and linger there as he gulps. Hard.

With a chuckle, you lean down to press a kiss to his neck. An action he feels has an effect on him ten times more severe than if you were to kiss his cheek. It’s deliberate. It’s planned. And he wants more.

You tilt his chin up with a delicate hand. Welt is at your mercy, not making any indication of wanting these advances to stop. His eyes are on your lips again as you lean closer, and tilt your head with a sly smile.

“Seems this lipstick really is smudge-proof,” you say, examining the area where you placed your lips. Your eyes go back to his and suddenly his breath hitches in anticipation. “Professor.”

Welt shudders at the way the word rolls of your tongue. There’s jolts of electricity that run through his spine and spread through him in an addictive rush just from your voice. You have him inevitably wrapped around your finger.

“Again,” Welt says with a clear of his throat.

You climb onto his lap, checking his expression in case there was any indication he didn’t want your advances. The hardness painfully confined in his slacks says otherwise.

And you indulge him with a kiss on the lips. One you smile into as he goes in for another like a man starved. Welts rough hands grab at your soft thighs, pulling you closer against him. It’s like he can’t stop now that he’s started. He pushes the thought of someone walking into his office and being discovered engaging in these scandalous activities with a former student far back in his mind, like a fleeting thought he can’t be bothered to think of. Not right now, not when you’re mischievously tugging at his belt buckle. The serious gentleman everyone knows is quickly dissolving before you.

Several months of pleasantries and exchanges and patience finally leading up to exactly what you wanted. You can’t help but grin against his lips for your little victory.

[webnovel-deluxe]

Isn't Being A Wicked Woman Much Better? Side Story Chapter 17

i also upload this chapter in my YT, feel free to read there to support my effort, click👉Link

***

“I didn't expect you to get your diploma so soon.”

What a summer semester graduation!

The dean of the Academy's Faculty of Magic, my uncle, the Marquis of Wert, puts down his teacup and grinned.

He seems cold and cynical at first glance, but seeing the same face often, he knew he wasn't in a bad mood today.

“To be honest, the picture is strange for a single magician to teach the saint who saved the empire. ”

“But it is true that graduating too early according to the school rules… I thought the dean would be against it.”

“Do I not look so inflexible like your father?”

Addition adds more, but it doesn't look less.

I swallowed the hard words that came to my throat.

“Honestly, I didn't want to make an exception either, but I can't help it. Because of you, my work is almost paralyzed.”

“.....”

“I’m going to see you, and even the graduates come to the undergraduate building from time to time, and I feel like I’m going to die.”

He shakes his head with a rather troubled face.

In fact, when the academy started, it was much more serious than it is now. The formula lectures I was giving were like taking a break.

“I respect you! Lady! Sign it!”

“Call my name just once!”

“Lady! Just say one word that you will pass your graduation thesis!”

“I feel like I will be able to pass the matriculation exam after receiving the saint from afar!”

There were people who didn't listen to lectures telling me to listen, and treated me as a totem of ups and downs.

'Of course, even if you only open your eyes wildly, you close your mouth right away.'

In the past, when I appeared, everyone was busy bowing their heads and politely giving way... .

‘I don’t really want to go back to the days of a villainess, but there were definitely things I was comfortable with.'

Still, it seems that some polarizing fans were in school, It seems that he was finally able to escape from the space called the school thanks to the trouble he made to the dean and president of the Academy.

The long compulsory education period, 5 years of undergraduate life, and hard work at the academy passed like a lantern.

“… It’s too long.”

While relieving, Marquis Berthe suddenly murmured.

“What?”

“I thought you were good at teaching. If possible, I was thinking of making a teaching assistant. Because that's the fastest way to become a professor.”

'Hey, it's not too harsh, oh!'

With the creepy remark that he wanted to pamper me like a grad student, he casually pushed the cake in front of me. with a small box.

“This… .”

When I opened the box, it contained a rose-shaped brooch, and his scar trembled for a moment.

“When I see you, I think of Marien. She was the junior she wore. She was a good lecturer, so she was going to be a teaching assistant, but I don't think my younger brother would run away with her.”

“...?”

Surely, not a love triangle, but a favorite graduate student No. 1?

Having written several chijeong novels in my head, I erased the questions that came to mind. Sometimes it's better to just leave it unaware.

“Your mother was a beautiful bride to match May. Marriage, congratulations.”

“Thank you, dean.”

“What dean when you get your diploma? Call me uncle.”

Uncle...

At the name that came out a little awkwardly, he smiled softly, incomparably with the previous one.

“I’ll see you at the wedding, Deborah.”

***

Upon hearing the news of Isidor's marriage, the Marquis of Jaba Slein hurried up to the capital with her family. It was to help her nephew's wedding preparations.

In the Empire, instead of the bride bringing the dowry, the groom prepared the wedding preparations, so Isidor would have a lot to worry about.

“Originally, this kind of preparation has to be led by an adult in the family… ”

In the mind of the Marquis, the childhood image of Isidore, who was like an angel from the past, was etched in her mind. Perhaps that's why his nephew, who had to carry out all the preparations alone, felt pity for him.

But after a while, instead of sticking her tongue out in pity, she sticks it out in exasperation.

To put it bluntly, perfectionism is a long one... … .'

He is a person with a reputation for being meticulous, but his nephew is a bit more sophisticated.

'I don't think there's a way to skip something.'

Isidor, who visited the wedding venue in advance, not only looked at the seating arrangement, but also the banquet room curtain decorations, candle holders, wine glasses, carpets, and even cutlery used by guests.

“This tableware is a trendy style?”

The vassal quickly responded to Isidor's point.

“Yes. There are a lot of nobles in the capital who prefer this kind of tableware these days, so I prepared it.”

“But it’s a formal place, but you don’t feel too heavy. Also, it’s not a flower pattern that suits the season, is it?”

“I will change it right now.”

The Marquis of Vaslein approached Isidor, watching closely the number placed on the tablecloth.

“May I give you a heartfelt message to the Duke of Visconti?”

Isidor, who had even taken off his gloves and checked the texture of the tablecloth, lifted his head at his aunt's call.

“Speak at ease, Auntie.”

“Yeah, don’t be shy. It would be a headache just to sort out the guest list, but if you look at every little thing like this, your nerves won't be left behind.”

“As soon as this place, which you rented for a dinner party, became known, the empire was turned upside down. If it had been this way, Seymour's first headmaster would have been satisfied.”

“The little things make the best quality. Visconti’s invitation.”

“… The invitation left such a saying?”

“Yes, I remember.”

Seeing his nephew, who said he was only following the laws of the Visconti, to stop nagging, the Duchess of Vaslain shook her head as if she couldn't do it.

“You really remember everything.”

“aunt also has a good memory. I want you to forget about my immature childhood... .”

She often glorified Isidore as a child. Little Isidor, with rosy cheeks, dazzling blonde hair, and big eyes, was as real as her face, like an angel who had just descended from the earth.

“Isidor, when have you been immature? You grew up too early for needlessly because of your rude father.”

“I did the exact opposite because my father didn’t like it, but I look like I’m mature.”

“… Well, on the other hand, he was a perfect guy to be a teacher.”

I say it lightly now, but what the former Visconti owner, Albert Visconti did, was beyond my imagination.

As the only son was a mess, the former family's affection for the genius grandson grew and the conflict between the father and son deepened.

'It was terrible... .'

As she recalled the past, her eyes fell deeply.

***

In the long past, the Visconti Castle was always noisy due to the clamor of Bardo Visconti, the former headmaster. Even the sound of the rough waves crashing into the Alea Strait could not sweep away his shouts of force.

“There are drug dealers in the castle. Albert, are you crazy!?”

“Ah, father… !”

“Aren’t you ashamed to look at Isidor!? While you marred Visconti's impeccable prestige and defiled the stature of a noble bloodline, your son has awakened the talent of a magic swordsman! whopping! At the age of eight when you hid in an underground warehouse and stole alcohol!”

When Bardo Visconti provoked Isidor, Albert Visconti, who was trembling, suddenly bubbled like a mad dog.

“father! Where the hell is my son?”

“What?”

“I know it all. Isidore is actually my younger brother, so I'm wearing it like my own son, right?”

“this… this guy! What nonsense are you talking about now?”

“Also. If you are stabbed, you are revolting.”

Albert rubbed his eyes like a madman and teasing his tongue.

“Anyway, Olga, I’ll have to pull the girl’s hair out and let Chidogon go. I'm playing with my sister-in-law, how dare I take a sip of my behavior on the topic of an affair?! The person who will receive the huge alimony is me!! dare! Dirty bitch!”

Olga, a victim of an arranged marriage, was fed up with Albert's Visconti's chaos and divorced after giving birth to Isidor.

After the divorce, the news that she died of an illness had been heard five years ago, and Bardo Visconti could not overcome his anger and drew a decorative sword, seeing his son tarnishing the honor of the deceased.

“After hanging out with the backstreets, every time I open my mouth, the smell of stinking vibrates! I will rip off your tongue today.”

“Hey, hey!”

Albert, who drank too much and couldn't even use his sword properly, was frozen by the blood of his father, the sword master.

“You poor bastard! The spirit is not as strong as that of a ten-year-old Isidor. I don't know if you are really my son!”

Just as Bardo Visconti was fed up and was about to cut his tongue with a knife, Agat broke in and stopped them.

After staying in the Bar Slaine estate, she stopped by the Visconti Castle after a long time and had no choice but to become a flagship at the sight unfolding before her eyes.

“Agat, go away!”

“father! Isidor is watching!”

Why is it that the father slaps his brother so loudly at the place where the child sees it? Isn't it too harsh to show that young child the cruel sight of his grandfather cutting off Jea's tongue?

“Ugh! Huh”

“Albert, you just owe your sister a tongue.”

The sharp blade that had dug into his shabby lips slowly fell away.

“ugh… uh... ”

Blood cascades from Albert Visconti's long slit lips and chin.

”.....“

“Isidor! Don't stand here and go to your room.“

“Agat, you are the older sister who only looks at that child too young. My grandchildren don't even blink an eye at this. He's a bold guy like a Visconti.”

Little Isidor, who was standing loudly beyond the chaotic door, thought as he watched his father's tears, runny noses, and blood.

it's dirty.

The thick bloody smell and the smell of man's dung pee mixed together, and his nasal passages throbbed. It was tens of times more disgusting than the smell from the barn.

“Ugh...”

When I met my father's hazy eyes, I suddenly felt an insect crawling all over my body. Goosebumps rose from the forearms and the nape of the neck.

No matter how many times I wiped and wiped, the unpleasant sensation never went away. Bardo Visconti sighed briefly as he watched Isidor wiping his hands all day with an expressionless face.

“You are truly a Visconti even in this respect.”

Most of the Visconti's who ran away had a chronic tuberculosis. So Bardo Visconti was rather happy to see the child's fingertips that had been split and had blood on them.

A natural perfectionist temperament, the talent of a magic swordsman, a superhuman memory, and even the habit of raking gold by any means. Even if it was called the reincarnation of the invitation, it was not strange.

Target is 20 Likes and i will upload the next chapter if you all complete the target.

[britcision]

Gonna try and sneakily post after dnd let’s see how fast I can yeet this up 👀 new chapter!!

(I was kinda considering pushing out the porn parody to push me over one million words on AO3, but I have to be in the mood to write good smut, whereas I’m damn near always in the mood for crack, so here we are

The porn parody has been started though, and the first chapter is edging its way to completion. I will be starting an entirely new taglist for the porn parody though, so do say in the comments here if you would like to be tagged in the first chapter of that!)

I got to use a little of my actual real life work knowledge for once in my life, instead of my unending stash of random knowledge 👀 it’s a bold new world and I bet you ANYTHING Bruce never documents his code

Eleven million backup plans for if marshmallows take over the world, but someone else sits to debug the batcomputer? Zip. Nothing. Fuck them if they can’t read Bruce they aren’t authorised to touch it

As may be rather obvious… We’re right up in the bats again this chapter, and Bruce is going to make some Inadvisable Decisions 😈

I’m sure this will have absolutely no consequences whatsoever! This chapter also came in a little short, since there’s not quiiiiite enough space left to squeeze in our next scene, Danny Attempts To Make Jason Kill Him In A Motorcycle Accident

This means we should not brick ANYONES’ tumblr! (Like that’ll happen, my poor mobile using fellows)

Note: there is a reason why I’m choosing when to use our various vigi’s human names while they’re masked, I didn’t miss one on the “edit” that is formatting this mess for Tumblr 😁

First Chapter and AO3 link:

Previous Chapter:

——————

One Fine Day In The Middle Of The Night

About twenty minutes after dropping Danny off at his dorm, Jason was suited up and ready to go.

Well, he’d stayed outside until he’d seen Danny shut the door behind him first. Jason had some fucking manners, though if pressed he couldn’t name who’d taught him them.

It was a habit older than the streets, watching to be sure his friends got to safety.

Danny’s dorm was about fifteen minutes from one of Jason’s better safe houses, as it happened. Jason had never been to a dorm, but from Danny’s stories?

A step below Teen Titans’ bunks, and those had sucked. Less privacy, smaller rooms, and more people? Who weren’t even part of the same team?

Maybe next semester Jason could offer to let Danny move in. He didn’t need need the safe house.

Red Hood could always buy the building. There were other apartments and while they weren’t luxurious, they beat half his other spots. The neighbourhood wasn’t bad either.

It’d be nice to pay Danny back a bit. Not have him closer. Just. Repay some of the debt by giving him a place to stay, rent free.

And maybe, just a little bit, the part of Jason that enjoyed the romanticism of his period novels kinda liked the idea. An estate for the king on your lands was a big deal back then.

A slightly more modern part of him thought being a landlord for his ruler would also be pretty funny. He figured Danny would enjoy that side too.

And it wasn’t like the guy could complain, since he’d literally given Jason back himself. Yeah, Jason was gonna pull that one out if Danny tried any familiar “oh I can’t accept this” on him.

Fixing his core was pretty damn god level on the favours spectrum. Jason could do whatever the hell he liked and Danny would just have to deal with it.

It cheered him up a little more, kept him in a good mood on the ride back to his safe house. It was more time where he couldn’t help Cass, but seriously?

Danny could change in a matter of seconds and be at her side not much slower. Walls, cars, goons, Jason had this feeling that none of it would slow Danny down.

And yeah, knowing that helped, but there was still a piece of him that only unknotted as he slid his helmet on and headed to the window.

“Hey, Black Bat. Busy?” He asked as the comms switched from earpiece to helmet display.

Of course he wore both. People kept trying to steal his damn helmet. That was also what the internal explosives were for.

The others all piped up when they heard him, Harper and Steph calling cheerful greetings around an ongoing conversation.

“Shit, Hood’s in, this mean I can go back to bed?” Bluebird teased. Spoiler cut her off immediately.

“Hell no, it can’t be a school night, Robin’s here! Great timing though Hood, we’re planning Red Robin’s eulogy and you have some experience there,” Spoiler chirped brightly, and Jason hesitated.

Sucked in a breath. He wasn’t gonna judge anyone else’s coping mechanisms until they got past “heads in a bag” levels.

Best to ignore it, since she wasn’t actually trying to set him off.

What the hell had Tim done since they’d left the manor?

Shaking his head, Jason settled into Red Hood and hopped onto the fire escape, scaling easily to the roof.

“Black Bat?” He repeated instead of answering, and half smiled when Spoiler groaned dramatically.

Black Bat answered in the considerate group pause.

“Not busy. Why?” She sounded amused, not even particularly tired, and Jason relaxed enough to slip all the way in.

“Thinking of going a little out of my way tonight. Wondered if you’d mind a tagalong?” Red Hood asked, hoping he sounded casual.

It wasn’t like he’d been planning to patrol the Alley anyway; his guys had already been told to handle it. He’d have to run around tomorrow night to keep the creepers scared, but he could have a couple off.

The tiny pause before her answer didn’t quite feel like judgement, but Jason muted before blowing out the sigh as she did. It wasn’t like the others needed to know he’d been stressing.

“Sure. Meet at library?” She’d had his tracker up. Hood nodded, turning and running for the edge of the roof.

“Sounds good.” And they’d probably wound Spoiler up enough, she’d start plotting vengeance for being ignored soon. “So what the hell did Little Red do?”

“Brought Too Fine to the Bat Cave,” Spoiler told him with relish, not noticeably put out by the delay.

Not necessarily a good sign, since she was also this enthusiastic while actively plotting against him.

Wait.

Too Fine was Tucker’s hacker name.

“But he doesn’t know about us,” Red Hood said with a frown, catching an outcropping and swinging on.

“Oh, now you tell me,” Tim groused while the others snickered, “what a shame you didn’t think to when it’d have actually been helpful!”

News to Hood that he was on, probably still in the cave.

“He knows now,” Nightwing chimed in brightly, probably also travelling from the slight strain in his voice.

Hood paused for a moment, letting that sink in before attempting the next jump.

“Is he on comm?” He asked warily, because if Tim brought Tucker to the bat cave, it was entirely possible that they were all outed.

And that Tucker might tell Danny he was Red Hood.

Shit, he still had to text Harley. Resolving to do it once he hit the library, he set back to running, throwing himself across another street.

Black Bat would probably take a little longer to get there.

“He’ll be back, he’s in the bathroom,” Tim explained with a heavy sigh, shaking his head. “It’s not all bad, he’s given me the full story on what happened in Amity Park. Witness account and all.”

“From a witness you let down to the bat cave~” Spoiler sang sweetly across the air.

Red Hood could hear Oracle rolling her eyes as she cut in.

“Tone it down, Batgirl. Bluebird, if you’re still thinking of heading in, could you swing past one last site on your way?” She said firmly, then lightening her tone for their current guest.

“Batgirl who? I’m Spoiler,” Spoiler grumbled, but didn’t push beyond that. None of them did when Oracle invoked the name she’d had before any of them masked up.

Bluebird snickered at her before answering the question, a hint of exertion suggesting she was on the move too.

“I’m not actually in a rush to go home, O, I got all dressed up so I might as well enjoy one last hurrah.”

Right, because she’d be going back to school probably when Danny did.

Harper had always been a damn good hero in Jason’s books, but she valued her retirement and none of them really wanted to ruin it. Unless, apparently, seven bats just had to stalk Jason’s new friends.

Hood would have apologized, but frankly if she’d said no, some of the others couldn’t have come to the gala to be a pain in his ass.

And then he couldn’t have had so much fun fucking with them.

Fine. One cool fruit basket for the Row household, and some rainbow cupcakes for Cullen. He needed practice on frosting roses anyway.

Although that also reminded him.

“Hey Bluebird, have the others filled you in on Phantom?” He asked, cutting off some more background chatter from Spoiler and Tim.

Nightwing and the girls had had hours by now.

“What, your new boyfriend?” Bluebird asked sweetly, and Hood rolled his eyes.

Probably hit the important shit then.

“Sent you a picture?” He asked instead, decidedly not entertaining that question.

Nightwing and Spoiler snickered. Hood flipped off their general directions, settling himself comfortably on the roof of the library to wait for Black Bat.

There was a short pause, the others now wondering what he was getting at. Good.

“In and out of suit,” Bluebird agreed, curiosity tinging with mild suspicion. Being out of retirement clearly wasn’t good for her.

Hood nodded, pulling out his phone and shooting Harley a quick text. It might be moot now, asking her not to mention Red Hood shit in front of Danny, but he might as well.

He still had to ask if Waylon knew. Might as well ask. And see if Tucker knew when he got back.

“I know you’re outta the game, but keep the light show to a minimum if you see him around, okay?” He asked, scanning quickly over the list Danny’d cleared for public discussion.

He didn’t know if Tucker would have mentioned it, but he might as well. Cause of death was good, but Jason personally would veto “and the effects it may have now”.

Because fuck Bruce and his need for everyone to show him their weaknesses.

Bluebird definitely sounded curious now, and possibly like she was punching someone.

“Oh? He not big on the electricity?” She wondered aloud, and Hood grimaced.

Because if they were both at Gotham U in engineering… there was actually a chance Harper and Danny would run into each other.

Danny was older, but Harper skipped a couple years and he had no idea what year Danny was in. Fuck, they might be in the same classes. He couldn’t believe he’d never thought of that.

“Not exactly. You mighta seen him around actually, he’s an engineer too. But he’s not a fan of the electricity flying around,” he explained, Nightwing making background noises that told Hood he hadn’t put the pieces together either.

Good. At least he wasn’t alone.

Bluebird made an interested hum, and probably a finishing blow considering the satisfaction when she spoke next.

“I thought he looked familiar. But then, he’s total Wayne-bait. Yeah, I can keep the good stuff under wraps if I see him around. Gonna guess he’s had some bad shocks in the line of work?”

Hood hesitated and in exactly the same instant Black Bat landed on the roof. Sam had given them all the warning about talking about a ghost’s death, so he could leave it at that.

But…

The way Danny had looked when he explained about Vlad. Yeah, he’d rather they took this seriously. He didn’t want any of his family to hurt Danny, even by accident.

“It’s how he died. He won’t spontaneously combust or anything, but it’s a bad memory.”

Silence reigned while the others absorbed that particular detail, Black Bat crossing to crouch on the roof beside him. Hood leaned over enough to bump their shoulders together.

He could almost feel concern radiating off her, which was an extra weird experience after literally feeling all of Danny’s emotions half the day.

Guess that was where Cass’s liminality was going. It made sense, kind of; despite her occasional trouble speaking, she was pretty much the clearest communicator in the family.

Having another back up way to make herself heard would only fit.

On a whim, he tried projecting comfort back to her. Black Bat didn’t seem to notice, though whether that meant more on her part or his was the question.

She leaned in and bumped him back, her expression unreadable between the full face mask and the shadows.

“Heard and understood, Hood,” Bluebird agreed after a minute, her tone unusually solemn. Hopefully Dickie would take it to heart too.

The odds of Danny running into Nightwing weren’t great if he stuck to Blüdhaven, but Dick was a nosy bastard and there was always one “emergency” or another.

Better than the odds of running into Bluebird, although Harper would almost definitely look him up at school.

Maybe Jason should warn him.

“Maybe you could build him a faraday suit,” Spoiler mused, and Red Hood snickered.

“Handy, but then we couldn’t contact him,” he reminded her and she groaned loudly.

“Hey, if we’re both techies he’ll probably have his own idea. I’ll look him up out of costume, it’s my turn to say hi,” Bluebird decided, and Hood shot Danny a quick text.

Just a heads up.

A picture of Harper, captioned “beware of sibling. May be looking you up in class”. Black Bat giggled beside him, head cocked to watch the screen.

Harper wasn’t technically one of the Waynes, but if Waylon counted she definitely had to, and it wasn’t like Bruce picked his family. Asshole.

A few minutes later he got a message back from Danny.

‘DannyP: !!!!! I know her! 😳😳🤯 She does the cool nanobots! Half our year is betting if she’s a rogue or a vigi 👀 inside info??’

Which was fair, since just knowing Jason wouldn’t be much of a hint either way.

“He knows you,” Black Bat reported to the others, Bluebird immediately bitching that she’d been ratted out.

Red Hood mostly ignored her, texting Danny back.

‘JTodd: Neither anymore. She was a vigi, but she’s retired and getting her degree. No idea if she’ll come back after.’

“Odds you’ll change sides and go rogue, Bluebird?” He asked into a pause, and very much enjoyed the momentary stumped silence. “Apparently there’s a hefty bet.”

Momentary, because everyone had an opinion on that and had to share it. Everyone except Bluebird herself, who seemed to be thinking it over.

“What’re the odds for rogue?” She asked thoughtfully, immediately defending herself as the group booed. “What! I have student loans!”

“You are my villain arc, Red Hood,” Spoiler declared as solemnly as she could through laughter.

“I’m my own villain arc thank you so much, go find your own,” he refuted with a half grin.

“Ask Phantom,” Black Bat advised Bluebird in the meantime, which was probably fair. They weren’t good at staying on topic.

She then gave Hood another gentle nudge, probably for the same reason. Flicked off her comm for a moment.

“Wanted to talk?” She asked, and yeah, they probably should get back to it.

He gave a shrug, hauling himself up and holding a hand back down to her. Definitely not feeling guilty.

They’d tell her before anything became relevant. It just.

Well.

They were a family of fucking detectives, who could never leave well enough alone, and Jason really didn’t want them questioning his humanity.

Just once, he’d like to know something about himself before anyone else did. To have time to understand and come to terms with what he was before Twenty Questions.

Cass was very good at not asking questions though. And Black Bat turned off her comm first. Tim was distracted, probably with Tucker coming back because he’d been quiet.

No better opportunity was likely to come up.

And really, she deserved the same courtesy. Knowing about herself before the others did.

Maybe she’d have some ideas on how to tell them.

Making up his mind, Hood tapped his comms and hauled Black Bat up with his other hand.

“Hey O, gonna be offline for a minute. Text if you need me or BB, we gotta be radio silent.” There were enough possible reasons for that, he didn’t bother giving one.

Just so long as they knew.

Usually he’d just turn the comm off and swear at her if she turned him back on if he wanted peace and quiet, but… well, it was nice to hear the background chatter.

Nicer when the big Bat himself wasn’t in the field to tell them to focus.

“I always need you, baby!” Nightwing called just before he clicked off, and Red Hood rolled his eyes under the helmet.

Dramatic bitch.

He looked back to Black Bat, wondering where would be the best place for this talk. She was watching him patiently, not moving.

It had been her patrol.

“Is there anywhere on your route we can talk privately?” He asked softly, a little surprised at himself. He’d been the one who wanted to wait.

But that just made it his call who he decided to tell what, and when. And Cass… he trusted Cass.

Besides, it wasn’t like he was liminal. It’d give them something to think until he was ready.

Black Bat regarded him for a moment longer, then nodded and made her way to the edge of the roof.

“Follow.”

**

The night was wearing on, but Bruce was darkly satisfied that they were finally making progress.

Constantine’s pacing (replacing his smoking; Bruce may not have bothered arguing in the cave, but even Constantine knew better than to light a cigarette in space) had finally slowed.

Something terrible had happened in Amity Park, but even the magician was grudgingly admitting it was probably over. Left permanent scars, but getting no worse.

Unless it was on a cosmic level and would be a slow seeping problem for millennia, but Alfred had Opinions about Bruce concerning himself with issues on that time scale.

There was only so much they could do in the moment.

Another survey of the city was required, and in person since even the League’s best couldn’t take clear pictures of Amity Park.

A fact which didn’t seem to have stopped the Amity Parkers from photographing and sharing pictures of each other, according to his children. Constantine hadn’t actually argued when Bruce compared it to background radiation, so it must be close enough.

He also hadn’t done more than grimace when Bruce asked if he wanted to undertake the survey personally. That was as good as an enthusiastic agreement.

First, though? First they needed to call a meeting of the Justice League, primarily the heroes located in North America.

They had been horribly uninformed of what was going on right under their noses, and if Constantine was right… Amity Park’s problems had begun to spread.

To Gotham.

To his children.

Constantine’s grumbling that it was the miasma of death that hung over the city drawing them in had not inspired confidence, and Bruce resolved to have Zatanna over at her soonest convenience to explain.

Helping Constantine put together a report on Amity Park itself had more than convinced Bruce not to ask Constantine, even if he could have done it today. The man was…

Well. Bruce wasn’t looking forward to having to run him through the JL’s classification system again. Maybe one of his children would want to go and handle the technical side.

All he had to do was finish preparing the presentation, call the League, and he could rest. It would likely take a day or two to put a full meeting together, but he could at least fill Clark and Diana in tonight.

He could sleep in between. Just for a little while.

Right after he showed Constantine how to configure the alerts from Amity Park to direct to the Justice League Dark, not the spam folder. They hadn’t sent one in years, but he was determined not to miss any changes.

That should have been the easiest part of this whole mess. It was just a simple form, with a basic test button to ensure it worked.

Nothing too complicated even for a man who’d decided “no reply needed” meant the same thing as “too dangerous for anyone but JL Dark”.

Fine. It was fine.

Bruce loved making training videos to highlight the most basic functions of a system and ensure that people actually understood what the various controls meant. Wonderful.

It meant that they could work in parallel for a while, Bruce on the presentation for the League, Constantine to fix his mistake. In a blissful silence, even.

It couldn’t last.

“It’s not working, Bats,” the magician declared, pushing back and away from his computer. Probably to pace again.

Bruce closed his eyes, breathed in through his nose and out through his mouth, and made his way across to frown at the monitor.

“Did you save your changes?” He growled, doing his best not to let the irritation show. It was getting harder every time.

Constantine rolled his eyes, definitely not helping, and pointed at the screen.

“See for yerself. Look, JLD Top Priority, like ya said. And then ya hit the top button to save, and the red button to test it, and nothing happens.”

He waited impatiently while Bruce clicked through the buttons, seeing it for himself.

Constantine wasn’t wrong. That was unexpected.

Brows furrowing under his cowl, Bruce checked the deleted requests. Three test messages from “Amity Park”.

“Hn.”

“Someone’s fucked ya system,” Constantine commented dryly, sounding unduly pleased that it wasn’t his fault.

Something other than his haphazard filing had apparently been causing some of their problems. Bruce… just didn’t have the time tonight.

He nodded over to his screen instead, pulling up his wrist computer to send a private message to Tim in the cave. How long could a tour take?

Tim could find what was going wrong long before he’d have the time.

“I’ve compiled most of the presentation on creatures of the Realms. Is there anything important I should add?” He asked gruffly and Constantine sighed dramatically and flounced over.

Bruce firmly ignored Steph’s voice in his ear.

Not because he didn’t agree, whatever a “woobie” was.

He just needed Constantine’s once over to confirm he had all the pertinent information, and then he could call Clark and Diana.

Head home.

Get to bed.

“Looks fine. I should check yer damn revenant some time soon too though.”

Bruce froze, finger just above the send button on that tech request to Tim.

His fucking what.

**

Black Bat led them easily across the city, along what was probably her normal patrol route. Taking her cue from Red Hood, she didn’t rush, but soon indicated that they turn off into a small alley between two warehouses.

Hell, not even a proper alley. A gap where the buildings hadn’t quite smushed together.

Red Hood recognized the area from Nightwing’s bitching; there’d been a bust here last week, and something had cloaked the whole block from surveillance.

These days, he was almost tempted to check what Danny knew about it. Ghosts fucked with technology in ways none of the bats would find.

Black Bat stopped them half way down the gap, feet braced against one wall and her back to the other, leaving her “sitting” about twenty feet off the ground.

Hood matched her a little further down, grumbling a little at the crush. Almost a foot taller, it wasn’t exactly a comfortable position for him, but he’d held worse.

They were stable, and damn near impossible to observe. This was as good as they’d get.

“So,” he began, and immediately realized he had no fucking clue what to say.

Black Bat’s flat, expressionless mask was not helpful.

Hood wished he could pull his helmet off, just to run his hands through his hair. But they were on patrol.

Black Bat just waited, silent and patient while he wrestled with himself. Finally he decided to just spit it out.

“Danny died, and came back,” he said in a rush, glancing over to her.

Black Bat nodded.

“Like you.”

“Like us,” Hood corrected, groaned, and switched off the voice modulator. Actually, fuck it, he had his domino on.

He pulled the helmet off, balancing it in his lap. He could shove it back on if it came time to go.

Black Bat was beside him now, almost close enough to touch. Close enough to lean in and bump their shoulders together.

“One main difference,” she noted thoughtfully, then tapped her chest, “no skin change.”

Which, yeah, Jason had been hoping to emphasize before any of the family got too far down the right track.

“Right,” he agreed, leaning back to stare blankly into the smog of Gotham above them.

Fuck. How do you even say it? How do you tell someone they’re not fully human anymore?

Someone like Cass, who’d been raised to believe she’d never been human, by force. Just a weapon.

Her hand was in his now, and he couldn’t be sure if he’d reached out or she had. He stared down at their laced fingers instead.

“You know how people get when they spend too long around the pit water,” he began slowly, trying a different path.

Cass had been raised around the League of Assassins. She knew.

And took the change of topic fully in stride, nodding and giving his hand a gentle squeeze.

“Erratic,” she mused softly, her face tilted to the wall across, “unpredictable, especially if they went in.”

No one was going to say Ra’s Al Ghul was an unstable mess of a man, but no one had to. Still, how controlled he was was impressive, especially after you saw what mere exposure to the fumes did to other people.

Red Hood nodded, sighing softly.

“Danny’s parents kept it in the fridge. He was… exposed long before he died,” he explained quietly.

If he was talking about himself, he’d say “contaminated”. Hell, it was the word Danny used when explaining it to the bats.

Jason just couldn’t use it about Danny. It just wasn’t right.

Black Bat stilled, almost enough to be mistaken for a statue instead of a living being. Was that her liminality too? Or just her training?

Red Hood couldn’t stand it either way, giving her hand a gentle tug.

“He told me… being around it too long can change a person, even if they never get dunked,” he said slowly, trailing off again.

“We got dunked,” Black Bat said quietly, her hand curling more tightly around his. There was no hint of emotion in her voice, and Jason hated it.

Pulled her closer, doing all he could to project comfort-sorry-concerned-love you. Wishing he’d asked Danny to teach him to do that first.

Neither of them had really considered he’d need it, since Danny was so good at reading him. But he needed her to know she wasn’t alone.

Her shoulders hunched suddenly, body tensed to spring until her head snapped round to focus on him.

He could… he could feel surprise from her. Maybe it was working.

He gave a graceless half shrug, grinding his shoulders against filthy bricks.

Tried to project yeah it’s weird for me too, but wasn’t sure how well it came across. Anything beyond pure feelings was a little tricky for him to push, though he could usually work out what Danny was saying.

“We got dunked,” he agreed quietly, resolving instead to wrap her in love-protect-safe-safe-safe, “and sometimes… that changes you even without a flashy transformation.”

It was an awful explanation and he knew it, could practically feel her eyes darting all over his face, his posture, reading things he probably wasn’t aware he was showing.

Then she relaxed all at once, settling in and leaning part of her weight on him as well as the wall. He braced automatically to take it. He wouldn’t let her fall.

“He called it being “liminal”,” he explained softly, working an arm around her shoulders above the wall to coax more of her weight onto him. “I don’t know what it means for you yet, BB. But nothing bad. He was sure it wouldn’t be bad.”

Black Bat made a soft humming sound, obediently shuffling so he could wrap his arm around her. Looking down at their still twined hands.

“Can feel you,” she said softly, hand rising to tap gently against the red bat on his chest. “Big brother.”

It startled a bark of laughter out of him, because… well, yeah. A good way to sum up everything he’d wanted to tell her without words.

Felt a quick rush of satisfaction from Black Bat, and tried to answer it with relief-agree-protect.

“Yeah, that’s the fuckin’ weirdest part,” he agreed dryly, almost felt the rush of her giggle more than he heard it. “Apparently some liminals get this… aura around them. Sharing what they feel. I didn’t know if you would…”

What? If she’d notice? If she’d be able to feel the same things?

Black Bat nodded, head tipping up to meet his gaze once again.

“Robin? Batman?” She asked, and Jason hesitated.

He couldn’t talk to either of them about it. Not yet. Bruce would fucking push, he always did, and wouldn’t stop until he tore the secrets out of him. Damian would just run to Bruce.

But it was a valid question. And they did sort of deserve to know just as much.

For now he took refuge in what he knew, shrugging it off.

“Danny thinks they’re liminal, but… not as far along as we are.”

Not as close to death. Not as close to not being human, although technically they were both legally non-sentient, so that was fun.

“D’you really think either of them have the emotional bandwidth to share?” He tried to joke, covering the moment.

Black Bat just stared at him until he fell silent. Then nodded.

“Should tell them. No rush,” she added almost before Jason could tense, leaning back in and resting her head on his shoulder, “have been for a while, yes?”

Jason paused a moment longer, shook his head, and snickered.

“Cannot believe I ever doubted you’d be able to do the whole “emotional telepathy” thing,” he grumbled good naturedly, and Black Bat glowed with gentle amused.

“Better than you,” she told him archly, sounding for a moment like Steph when she was teasing Tim. Jason gave her a squeeze.

“Don’t I know it. But yeah, it’s not a new thing, and won’t mean anything to anyone unless one of us dies again.” Which he wasn’t going to think about.

Shit, someone said Robin was out tonight.

Nope. Not thinking about it. Robin had been patrolling for years, and as much as he whined about his solo patrol route, he never deviated.

Not after Oracle had highlighted his route on his wrist computer for him and proved she could see every footstep. She wouldn’t necessarily tell Bruce, but she’d always know.

Black Bat nodded, resting against him for a moment longer before sitting up again.

“You want to wait.” It wasn’t a question, but he felt compelled to answer.

Picked up his helmet, turning it over slowly in his hands. But of course she’d understand. She always did.

“I want to know what this means to me before I have B poking and prying into every part of my life,” he said quietly, staring into the eye slits of the helmet.

Black Bat ruffled his hair.

“Can wait,” she agreed gently, switching her position to have a hand and foot on either wall. Ready to move on. “No rush.”

Red Hood pulled his helmet back on and matched her, the pair climbing quickly out of the crack between the warehouses. It almost wasn’t worth saying, but…

“You can tell the others if they ask. I just…”

“Don’t want questions,” Black Bat agreed lightly, flipping up onto the roof. “Can ask Danny when the time comes.”

“Yeah,” Red Hood agreed, crouching beside her. “Mind if I stick with you on patrol tonight?”

He sort of hoped she’d think it was unrelated, but another moment of stillness passed across her as she regarded him.

“Until we die again,” she repeated his own words, and Hood was pretty happy she couldn’t see his face anymore as he grimaced.

Not that it mattered, another shot of amused shooting between them, followed by a much softer appreciated.

At least she wasn’t judging him for being a mother hen.

“Understand.”

**

Tim and Tucker had made quick work of the interview, and Tim was pretty much running out of questions when the batcomputer pinged with an incoming message.

Tucker gave it a longing look and Tim chuckled softly, wheeling himself over.

“Hang on. Might be one of the others out on patrol,” he explained, right clicking to pull up the monitor that tracked the bats’ various dominos out and about.

Tucker stared up at it politely, diverting his attention from what Tim was doing on the other screen, no matter how curious he was. Showing trust and all that.

It was actually really cool too; he’d not really seen a map of Gotham, and having one superimposed with little glowing lights of the various heroes on patrol was really cool.

It wasn’t really zoomed in enough to tell if Bluebird was actually in a fight, but the little blue dot seemed to be the only one standing still, so Tucker assumed she was.

How cool would that be? Watching just normal human vigilantes fight and take down bad guys?

Although off the top of his head, he could already think of a couple of things to add to the monitoring program. They might already be there, he hadn’t clicked around, but like.

Vitals were all well and good, down in the corner next to each hero’s name and the colour of their dot, but just the heartbeats? That wouldn’t tell you enough.

Tucker preferred brainwaves, because then you could tell if they’d been hit with something or overshadowed.

Although maybe it was because he’d spent his time keeping track of a guy who pretty regularly did not have a heartbeat. And it also gave him more data points for some of his cooler side projects.

Understanding the different brainwave patterns an individual made in different situations was a key part of neural mapping, and adding it to the bat’s routine would get him a ton of data.

And then they could really play Mariokart.

He’d have to ask Tim if they tracked any of that later. Not all the bats wore helmets or cowls that would support the electrodes, apparently. Although if Danny could get his hands on a domino…

Tucker was snapped back to the here and now as Tim pushed back from the batcomputer, a wry grin on his lips.

“Actually, I think this might be something you could help with, Tucker. If you don’t mind a little work on your night off?” He teased, back to Tucker’s complaints about a night of fun and tech.

Like getting to play on the batcomputer did not absolutely count as fun and tech.

Tucker beamed, excitement welling up in him and cracking his knuckles. It’d be pretty cool to assist a human vigilante too. And on a tech problem!

Gotham was fucking great. If Tim really meant it about getting him an internship, Tucker might have to see about switching schools.

MIT was great, but it wasn’t Wayne Enterprises, personal meetings, or personal tech demonstrations with Tim Drake Wayne!

“Sure! What’s going on?” He asked, shuffling over to look at the other screens now that he had permission. Making sure it was obvious he hadn’t been looking.

Resisting temptation had been hard. He deserved credit.

Tim nodded to the screen, and that? That was a message from Batman. Bruce Wayne. Batman.

Tucker scanned the message, eyes widening even as Tim spoke.

“Wanna help debug the Watchtower?” Tim asked, and Tucker clutched at the back of his chair as his heart leapt, swooning just a little.

The Watchtower. The actual Watchtower. In space. Oh he was shoving that in Danny’s face for not telling him he was friends with the Bats!

There was only one real question left.

“Will Oracle be here?” He asked eagerly, looking around the rest of the screen.

A soft chuckle played from a speaker in the bottom corner, and Tucker jumped half a mile as a masked voice spoke.

“You boys have fun with this one, I’ll keep an eye on the city. If you finish early you could walk me through that server of yours?”

Oracle.

The Oracle.

They were real, they talked to him, they wanted to talk about his locked down servers! Tim lunged to catch him as Tucker collapsed, knees giving out under the swell of emotion.

All of his dreams were coming true, all at once.

He’d never been happier.

**

Danny was having a pretty quiet night in. That didn’t used to be unusual while he was in Gotham; having time to himself was still pretty much a novelty, and he wasn’t exactly a party boy.

Of course, it was a night in with some of his parents’ inventions and recently one or two of his own, so the actual “quiet” part was negotiable.

Quiet enough not to piss off his dorm mates, but luckily most of them were engineers too. They may not always know what he was doing, but they were usually interested.

Tonight, he was alone, most of the floor still being home for the holiday. That had been one of the things he’d looked forward to most about staying behind, but…

Well, after his noisy and action packed few days… he was lonely.

He wished he’d asked Jason to stay. Just because he’d said he was going to bed didn’t mean he had to do anything of the sort.

It was just that Jason had been… tense. He’d not even gotten off the bike when they arrived, just pulling over and chatting for a minute before heading out.

Like he wasn’t fully comfortable going into Danny’s place, which was kinda fair. Unlike Jason’s apartments, Danny’s dorm was a communal space.

Even if most of his dorm mates weren’t home, there was still a chance one of them might turn up. And then Danny would have someone else bugging him about his “boyfriend”.

Nope.

Besides, he’d see Jason again at 11am (he had this horrible feeling Jason might be a morning person), so it wasn’t even all that long. He should probably just go to bed.

He should check his class schedule, actually. Work out what days he’d have free, work out when he and Jason could skip to the Zone for fight club.

Wait.

Would Jason be free.

What the hell did Jason do for a living? He’d have to ask at some point, Danny mused, logging in and taking a screenshot of his class schedule for the new year.

For now, it was probably best just to send Jason the picture so he’d know when Danny was free, and then Jason could work out a good time for them to go and it wouldn’t be Danny’s problem.

Excellent. Sheer genius.

Humming happily to himself, Danny pulled up Jason’s number and sent the picture of his schedule, with the caption:

‘Let me know when ur free for field trips 👊🏻💥👻’

Eyes closing for a moment, Danny let his awareness drift out across the city. It wasn’t something he’d done a lot; Gotham wasn’t his haunt and he didn’t want to step on any toes.

Usually he’d just expand his conscious aura if he was looking for someone, but knowing how much Jason didn’t like it… well, his passive aura covered most of the state, so reaching through the same city couldn’t be all that hard.

Right?

Frostbite could find anyone, anywhere in the Far Frozen with little more than a thought. And was convinced Danny would be able to do that with the entire Zone, some day.

Danny was a little less convinced. Past the background awareness that he was no longer in Amity Park that had taken months to fade, he’d never really paid attention to his passive aura.

It’d be too tempting to feel out the rogues, or at least react to the sudden surges of aggression and danger. But he hadn’t had anyone to protect before, and he knew Jason would feel better knowing Danny could.

That was kinda why Danny hadn’t mentioned how theoretical this particular ability was, although he had no doubt he’d recognize Cass’s energy if she came close to death.

Which meant he should totally recognize it while she was alive, well, and had more energy, right?

He had no idea where she was, which parts of Gotham fell on her patrol route, but that kinda helped. It meant he couldn’t trick himself by focusing on a particular area.

Surprising precisely no one though, he found Jason first. The other halfa almost glowed when Danny was focusing on his energy, a bubbling little ball of yellow and red.

He… was maybe with Cass? Danny’s brows furrowed, nose scrunching as he tried to focus without changing his aura.

He was definitely with one of the liminals. And that quiet little light, almost blue, felt sort of like Cass. When he forced himself not to be distracted by Jason’s brighter glow.

Eyes snapping open, Danny’s concentration broke and he frowned up at the ceiling.

Well, that explained why Jason was in a hurry to get going. He was no expert in Gotham herself yet and had no idea where the two of them were, but if he tried again he could probably work it out.

Did Jason still have a suit? Or did he call Cass in, find something he could do as a civilian to have her help?

Shrugging to himself, Danny dismissed the question and hauled himself up. Might as well get to bed; they’d be back together in the morning and he could always ask.

**

Tim was scrolling through the code for the alert messaging system itself while Tucker went through the sections that pertained to Amity Park specifically on his PDA when the other boy made a sudden, startled squeak.

Tim considered pretending he hadn’t heard, but there was a chance he’d found the answer. So he glanced over.

“Any luck?” He asked, noting Tucker’s sudden strained expression. Maybe the guy needed the bathroom actually. They’d been down here a while.

Tucker laughed sheepishly, rubbing the back of his neck.

“So… uh… what exactly does the bug we’re looking for do?” He asked in a small voice, looking more embarrassed than Tim had ever seen.

Which… was not a proportionate response for that noise. And a question that they both probably should have thought of sooner.

He’d meant to mention it, since they’d have to explain it to the Amity Parkers at some point.

“So… remember how the Justice League never responded to an alert from Amity Park?” Tim asked not a little sheepishly himself.

Tucker nodded, not actually looking any less embarrassed himself either. That was definitely a great sign.

Tim sucked in a deep breath and forged ahead.

“So, it turns out there’s a bug in the Watchtower’s systems, where anything coming in from Amity Park gets marked as spam and funnelled straight into trash. We fixed the marking as spam thing, which I guess was user error, but it’s still-”

“All going to trash,” Tucker finished with a sigh, grimacing and shaking his head, “aaaaand I think I know why. But the timeline doesn’t make sense?”

That… that wasn’t even on the same continent as what Tim’d expected he’d say.

“The timeline?” He asked, brows furrowing, sliding over to peek at Tucker’s screen.

Tucker shook his head again, angling it so that Tim could see… a section of code that shuddered faintly in and out, almost disappearing entirely every few seconds.

That.

That was not a thing that should be happening.

Tim would have loved for it to be a simple screen glitch, but it was only that one small section of code. The lines above and below were fine, and Tucker could move the flickering chunk up and down.

“Yeah, this is your problem,” the Black man sighed, wiggling the section demonstratively, clearly aware of Tim’s shattered hopes.

Heartless man. Genius man.

“You’ve had ghosts in your back end. Probably wouldn’t even show up on an uncontaminated device. Which, by the way…” he trailed off, and Tim shook his head immediately.

“Not tonight. No changes to the batcomputer without Bruce’s say so,” Tim said firmly, since he’d already fucked up once. Might as well limit the damage.

Tucker shrugged and nodded back to the section of code.

“Okay. But this… this was definitely Technus. And that makes no sense? He’s a spirit of technology, we’ve fought him a bunch of times, but if he got into the Watchtower’s code he wouldn’t just… hide,” he tried to explain, adjusting his beret fussily.

It totally wasn’t adorable.

Tim did his best to keep up though, nodding along and thinking back over everything they’d been told about ghosts so far.

“You think we’d have noticed?” He asked, and Tucker snorted.

“He likes making giant robot bodies out of toasters, you’d definitely have noticed him on your space station,” he agreed dryly, then sighed.

Frowned down at the tablet again.

“I mean, Danny could make him do it and behave himself now, but if these changes were active during the whole Pariah Dark thing… I dunno, Technus should have been a way bigger problem. He’s not subtle.”

Tim frowned, thinking about what Tucker had said and then pausing.

“Danny could make him behave now?” He asked and Tucker pulled another face. Like he hadn’t meant to say that.

“Well, yeah, Danny’s miles out of Technus’ league now,” he tried to brush it off with a laugh, “the guy knows he’ll lose any fight so he’s really not a problem anymore. We have hackathons,” he added and Tim really wanted to know more about that.

There was just. Something off about Tucker’s answer. Not the content itself, just the way Tucker clearly wasn’t saying something.

That was a problem for future Tim though. Present Tim had a job to do.

“So can you fix what he did?” He asked the important question, and Tucker made another face.

“Dude… whoever or whatever made Technus do this, will probably notice if we fuck with it,” he said warily, and Tim shrugged.

“Whoever or whatever made Technus do it couldn’t do it themselves. How would they know?” He shot back, and Tucker chewed his lip.

Shook his head.

“Lemme text Danny. He’s the ghost expert, he’ll know how much we should worry about this,” he explained quickly, pulling out his phone and shooting off a short message.

Tim gave him his very best deadpan expression.

“How much we should worry about technology ghosts getting into space and fucking with Justice League HQ. I have the feeling the answer is “a lot”?��� He offered sweetly, and Tucker snickered.

“Yeah, well, we’ll see. Might actually be alright, if this is all he touched. And, since you won’t let me juice the big computer, we’d have to scan the whole thing through my PDA. Every line of code,” he added, like Tim wasn’t already dreading it.

Tim sucked in a slow breath, weighing his options.

Touching the batcomputer? Ultimate no-no. But Tim’s personal laptop… it had access to the Watchtower’s systems, and was under Tim’s personal control.

And would let Tim go through the sensitive data himself, which the core code of the Watchtower was full of. The question was, did he trust Tucker not to install anything dangerous?

That question had been answered the second he asked Tucker to help him debug though. Clearly the guy could already put what he wanted, where he wanted, and with their current tech?

None of the bats would ever know. At least if Tim’s computer got the update, he’d have a chance at spotting ecto-infused code.

There were other computers they could use of course, old or unnetworked computers that Bruce would probably insist they start with.

Which wouldn’t be able to access the Watchtower’s servers, and couldn’t hold the whole thing to be able to run a useful check.

The answer really was kinda obvious.

Tim looked to Tucker, who’d been texting away while he thought things through.

“We can’t do the batcomputer, but is there anything you could do for my laptop tonight, or do we have to wait on Danny still?” He asked, deeply regretting that they’d gone to video games instead of the tech upgrade.

At the time he’d been planning on having a burner laptop done though, so it probably wouldn’t have been as useful.

Tucker shrugged cheerfully and slid his phone into his pocket, cracking his knuckles.

“Well, I can’t give you the full infusion to let you open Amity’s encrypted data, but I can write you a little something that should expose Technus’s code even without it,” he offered, and Tim brightened up.

“How long?” He asked eagerly, wondering if Tucker would let him watch. It’d be fair if he didn’t, Tuck had been cool about not looking when Tim played on the batcomputer, but…

Tucker smirked, flicking open a new screen on his PDA.

“How long will it take you to get the laptop down here?” He asked smugly.

Tim booked shit to the elevator.

**

Private Chat: DannyP & TooFine

2:15am

‘TooFine: Danny when tf did u have Technus hack the JL’

‘DannyP: ……. 👀 u cannot prove i did that 🚫🚫’

‘TooFine: I’m helping Tim debug the Watchtower’

‘TooFine: double fuck u for not telling me about Batman btw’

‘TooFine: someone sent all the Amity alerts to trash’

‘TooFine: if we keep talking about this I might accidentally send something to the group chat 🤨’

‘DannyP: FUCK FINE DONT TELL SAM 🏳️🏳️🏳️’

‘DannyP: after the pd thing’

‘DannyP: cw called’

‘DannyP: they hadnt been reading the messages anyway i just’

‘DannyP: shitty people track the jl y’know? and i didnt want em knowing about us’

‘DannyP: let em all think its a joke and then no one else comes an tries to use our portal to harness the realms and blow up superman or whatever’

‘TooFine: dude u fucking told me to tell them what actually happened??’

‘TooFine: pretty sure anyone tracking the jl will work that out now’

‘DannyP is typing’

‘DannyP is typing’

‘DannyP is typing’

‘DannyP: ok so maybe i didnt think that through 😔😔😔’

‘TooFine: no shit. I’m fixing the code in case any new alerts come through but it’s not like they’ll bother to call’

‘DannyP: not like they need to, frighty’s got em covered 🗡️🗡️🎃’

‘TooFine: yeah yeah. I’ll set it to ping u too’

‘DannyP: ur the best tuck 🙇🏻‍♂️🙇🏻‍♂️🙇🏻‍♂️’

‘TooFine: better than u deserve’

**

Across the city, Red Hood and Black Bat had stopped for smoothies. Patrol was quiet, and word on the street was that Bluebird was mostly to blame.

Nobody wanted to know why she was back and taking no prisoners, so even the docks were almost deserted.

Then again, with Riddler and Waylon snapped back off the streets, Penguin lying low in fear of Harley, and Batwoman making Two Face’s life a personal hell?

Yeah, no wonder the smaller players were lying low.

Hood had pulled his phone out to check in on the Alley in case they’d be more useful there when he noticed a message from Tucker’s private chat app.

It was from Danny.

Danny had sent him his class schedule. Told Jason to let Danny know when he was free. Like class was the only thing that’d stop Danny from wanting to see him.

Jason was so lost in staring at his phone, utterly swamped in the implications, that he didn’t even notice Black Bat finish her smoothie and swap out her empty cup for his.

Danny wanted to see him again.

He’d have to work out a proper schedule of his own.

**

Bruce was having a Bad Day. An extended bad day, one that was fast approaching 48 hours long.

As if everything with Amity Park wasn’t already bad enough, both in the past and the present, now Constantine believed there was something wrong with Jason.

That his son wasn’t fully human anymore.

Now, Bruce’s best friends weren’t even a quarter human between them, and no matter what everyone seemed to think he was perfectly happy with meta humans.

So long as they kept themselves safe.

Preferably where they wouldn’t be mind controlled, kidnapped, or held hostage every few days. Frankly being a meta was probably stressful enough even in a normal city.

But he’d keep Gotham’s metas as safe as he could, just like Duke.

But Jason… Jason had been born human. Had lived as a human, died as a human, and Constantine seemed so sure he’d come back as something else.

“Revenant” the man had called him. An animated corpse that haunted the living, powered by rage.

Bruce might even have believed it two years ago, when Jason first returned. Jason had been so angry, intent on destroying Tim when the other was just a child.

When Jason was little more than a child.

But… that wasn’t all he was. He was himself, truly Jason Todd in ways Bruce hadn’t wanted to believe. He’d fought his rage and won every day.

Most days.

And being around Amity Park, being around Daniel James Fenton, might be enough to push him back over. To drag Jason closer back to death.

Halfas could act as psychopomps, bringing lost souls safely to the other side.

Jason had only just become himself again. They had only just begun healing the rift between them.

Bruce couldn’t lose him again.

They had to keep him away from Amity Park. It was as simple as that really; something in Jason’s resurrection had gone wrong and they all knew it.

Even Jason himself wouldn’t argue with that. Something about his death clung to him, poisoned him with that violent green rage.

His children’s reports told him that Danny was claiming to help with the pit rage because he had also been exposed. But what if he was just helping the pit?

Even if he didn’t mean to, exposing Jason to that much power that closely tied to death couldn’t be good. Constantine hadn’t exactly said as much, but Bruce could read between the lines.

Death magic was contagious between those who’d been infected. Who’d died and come back.

That wasn’t fun to know. Not with how many of his children, his friends had all died before.

Even he himself had. He’d have to investigate Amity Park personally. Take the risk himself, to keep it from the others.

Tim and Duke could help, but they were both so busy with their own lives. He would have to wait and see.

His meeting with Clark and Diana hadn’t gone well either. They’d both been gratifyingly concerned with what he’d learned and had recognized the threat.

Clark had promised to keep an ear out for Jason, to listen in on his heartbeat and make sure he was okay. Bruce would have been grateful, if Clark hadn’t also told him that Jason’s heart was noticeably slow.

Easy to pick out, even if they hadn’t spent much time together.

Just how close was his boy to dying again?

Diana had advised caution. Wanted to speak to Danny herself, see the hero who had shouldered the burden of this small town. See if he had turned under the pressure.

Pressure that should never have been his. Pressure they should all have shared, protecting the child and the town together.

It would be his fault if Danny had broken. Had given in to whatever in the Infinite Realms had stolen a whole town away.

Bruce knew that with a leaden certainty, felt the weight of it settle in his chest. The same way he knew he was responsible for most of his rogues.

He could see the wisdom in letting Diana talk to the man first. She was wiser than most of the League, and a good judge of character. Even without her lasso, it was hard to lie to her.

But if what Constantine said was true, he didn’t want to tip their hand. Zatanna and Shazam had both agreed to attend tomorrow and give their own opinions.

They could afford to wait one night. Perhaps two, if Danny couldn’t be found tomorrow.

Just about the only thing Bruce wasn’t worried about was Danny running. If he had ill intentions, he wasn’t the sort to give in and disappear so easily.

He’d threatened Bruce to stay out of things between him and Jason. And certainly wasn’t afraid of a fight.

Bruce was also quite sure that he and Diana could take the boy if it came to it, even with the abilities Constantine ascribed to the realms. He would find a way.

But not tonight, he reminded himself firmly as he strode into the zeta tube. Tonight he would go home, update his children, and get some sleep.

Maybe waiting a day or two to speak to Danny directly would help. This concussion had passed frustrating and was beginning to affect his decision making.

Shaking his head to clear it, Bruce hit the button to send him home. Soon he could rest. At least for a little while.

**

A gentle buzzer went off in the cave and Tim yelped like he’d been stung, clutching at Tucker’s arm in an entirely unmanly way.

“SHIT he’s back hide the candy canes!”

Tucker stared at him wide eyed, but to his credit the other man didn’t hesitate to sweep the pile of different flavoured canes off the desk and into the front of his shirt.

“Where?!” He asked, and Tim hesitated for half an instant.

The zeta tube was down by the cars. Bruce would be up in less than a minute. Spinning Tucker by the shoulders, he shoved him towards the infirmary.

“Get in there! Don’t come out til I say!” He hissed, already hearing the zeta tube’s door whoosh open.

Tucker obediently scurried away, and thank fuck he was quick on the uptake enough to drop his voice below a whisper.

“What?! Tim, what?! Am I not supposed to fucking be here?!” He hissed, and Tim pulled the infirmary door almost shut before darting back to the table.

He’d cleared it with Bruce, had texted about giving their guests a tour, but since it turned out that Tucker hadn’t already been in the know… well, he wanted to prime Bruce with the good news first.

The tube only pinged once though, so Constantine hadn’t come back with him. That was probably good. Bruce would be less cranky.

Tim wasn’t exactly back in his seat by the time Bruce reached the batcomputer, but he was close enough to watch him note the second chair.

Tim didn’t let him ask.

“I have a first hand witness account of what happened in Amity Park.” That was the important thing, right? That they had answers.

Bruce stared at him for a long moment, eyes narrowed and the whiteouts narrowing with them. Tim stared him down, refusing to look away.

He’d fucked up just like, a tiny bit. But he’d gotten results. Better results than anyone else. So was it really a fuck up?

He watched Bruce’s eyes widen as he realized, and was a little surprised when the man’s shoulders slumped. He dropped gracelessly into the swivel chair, elbows propped on the table and his head cradled in his hands.

Tim was growing a little alarmed now, hurrying forward to Bruce’s side. Was he injured? Had something happened?

His hand was just reaching out to touch when Bruce sighed and sat back up.

“Tim. Who did you bring to tour the cave?” He asked in a tired, heavy voice, and Tim’s brows furrowed.

What? He’d said, hadn’t he?

“Tucker Foley?” He said cautiously, wondering if he should call Alfred. Maybe switch out Bruce and Tucker and get the big guy into the infirmary.

Bruce was very still. Tim forged ahead, hoping to get to the good news.

“He was a vigilante back in Amity Park, part of the support team. I have his statement going back to the beginning of the ghost attacks, and he’s already answered most of our questions.”

Leaning past Bruce, he hit a couple of keys and brought up the sound file of Tucker’s interview.

Bruce was still a little slow as he turned to look, but it seemed to hearten him. Which was when Tim realized.

“Wait. Who did you think I was bringing?” He asked, brows furrowing in confusion.

Bruce shot him a sidelong frown, pulling off his cowl.

“Not a stranger,” he growled, though his heart clearly wasn’t in it. He just sounded tired.

Tim carefully patted him on the shoulder, still thoroughly confused.

“What? But I said…” he paused, pulling out his phone and staring at the texts.

Nope. No he didn’t.

Oops.

Groaning, Tim let his head drop.

“Ah fuck, and I thought we were doing so well!” He sighed heavily and Bruce made a grunt that might have been a laugh. “Alfred’s going to be unbearable.”

That shut Bruce right up, as it should, and then Bruce sighed again. They were moving past it then. Probably for the best, since Alfred would lecture them both on the importance of communication later.

At least it wasn’t only Tim’s fault. The only person who wasn’t a stranger or a bat had been Harley, and he wasn’t actually sure if Harley had cave privileges.

Well. She did now. Since that was what Bruce must have thought he was asking.

Then Bruce straightened, eyes determined and steely.

“I have new information from Constantine. The risks of the Infinite Realms.” It definitely heartened him to talk about, skipping straight to the debrief part of the day.

Maybe they could just skip right over the Tim-fucked-up-and-brought-a-stranger-to-the-cave.

“I need you all to keep away from the Amity Parkers until I know more.”

Ah.

No then. Nope, not skipping over it, because Tucker was actively still fucking in the cave. It was for the best that they’d hidden him then.

Tim shook his head firmly, hoping that if he seemed certain that would help.

“That’s not gonna work, Bruce. I couldn’t have fixed our Watchtower problem without Tucker, and we can’t look at any of the Amity Park data without an Amity Park device.” It was the theory they’d been running with, but they’d had it confirmed now.

Never mind that Tucker had already downloaded most of what was publicly available for them. Bruce would always want a primary source anyway.

Tim pretended it didn’t affect him when Bruce’s head jerked, eyes narrowed as he scowled at Tim.

“You let him into the code for the Watchtower?!” He exclaimed in a hiss. Which was interesting, since Tim had kinda figured the bat cave thing would be more personal.

Then again, the Watchtower could compromise more than that.

“Bruce, read the report on Tucker. We literally couldn’t stop him if he wanted to hack in, because his tech runs on levels that slide right past ours. Tech he’s already sharing,” he added sharply, reaching behind him without looking to hook his laptop forwards.

Bruce, mouth already open to argue, quieted at once. Yeah, new toys always helped. Tim nodded to the batcomputer.

“The update’s ready to go live, but I waited because you need to see this. Open the third window,” he nodded over, pulling up the corresponding section of code on the laptop.

Bruce’s expression pinched but he did as requested, clearly not willing to put another step between himself and the answer. A quick glance up to confirm, and Tim nodded to himself.

Fuck, he needed a laser pointer.

“So it all looks good up there, right?” He pushed and Bruce frowned, but nodded, eyes scanning quickly across the screen.

“Is this your update?” He asked but Tim was already shaking his head, pushing his own laptop towards the man.

Bruce’s eyes widened at the glitching sections of code. Tim nodded, satisfied he’d gotten Tim’s point.

“Tucker Foley wrote me a program so that I could access this ghost code. In half an hour. From scratch,” he added for emphasis, and yeah, he could already hear the lecture about “compromised tech”.

He tried to shut that one off too, pointing up at the screens.

“That? That’s apparently the work of a ghost. One called Technus, who likes to possess technology, and now Tucker and I are going through every line of the Watchtower’s code looking for changes.”

Bruce’s lips thinned to a tense line and he gave a short, harsh nod. He very obviously didn’t like it, but the presence of a bigger threat did wonders for calming him down.

Tim patted his laptop.

“We’re waiting on you to upgrade the batcomputer, but we’re gonna need to check every program on that too. Everything, Bruce. These ghosts could have been rewriting everything. And we’d never know if I hadn’t asked Tuck to help me with the Watchtower.”

Honestly, Tim was just hoping none of their rogues had made any ghostly connections. The implications made his head spin, but he stubbornly kept himself on track.

They needed Tucker’s help. Never mind that the ghosts themselves were reportedly allergic to subtlety and would always go big over going home; that was a tendency, not a guarantee.

Hell, if Tim had a say, he’d get Tucker’s upgrades for the ghost code, improved firewalls, and Danny’s ectoplasm into all his own gear by tomorrow.

He wasn’t going to, Bruce’s paranoia being what it was, but he was already uploading Tucker’s program to his suit’s wrist computer. It wasn’t like there’d be any hidden malware.

Tim had watched over his shoulder as Tucker wrote it, direct on the PDA. And watching him work had been… it was just…

He so rarely got to talk to anyone that was actually on his level. Rarer still that they weren’t a direct member of the family.

And Tucker, for all he currently had a tech advantage? He’d invented that advantage himself. All on his own, he was incredible. Maybe even better with some aspects of software than Tim himself.

The things they could do together… even the internship was pretty much a formality at this point. Just get Tuck through college and see if he’d accept a job at WE.

Hell, if he wanted to found his own company Tim would invest. That kind of brilliance deserved everything it needed to grow.

He had to wrench himself back to the present moment, the “introduce new genius to Batman” step still looming large, but honestly? Tim wasn’t worried. Bruce would see the potential.

Here and now Bruce’s gaze had gone distant, and Tim could easily have kept going, but he stayed quiet. Let the man absorb new information, stop and think.

And if he still wanted to make dumbass decisions, well, Tim could argue with him literally all night. They’d all picked up Bruce’s stubbornness too.

**

It was hard to focus on the screen through the throbbing of his head, the lights too bright even at their lowest setting. He’d checked.

Luckily, it was an issue he’d been dealing with for years, and Bruce pushed it aside with the resigned acceptance of long practice.

He’d pay for it later. That night of sleep was probably going to be a day of sleep at this rate, but he’d get at least six hours. More if Alfred caught him.

For now… Tim felt very strongly about this. Had good reason to, if he was even half right about the scope of the problem, or Tucker’s uses as a solution.

After hearing from one member of the Justice League Dark, Bruce was desperately hoping Tim was right. They sorely needed an ally, one they could trust to guide them through these dangerous waters.

Of course, Fenton and Foley were close. That may skew his judgement, but it could be accounted for. Wasn’t worth more than an ally whose skillset Bruce understood, and could trust.

Tucker Foley was a tech expert, which put him above any occult master in Bruce’s book. Magic had no rules, not that could be relied on, and Bruce wouldn’t touch it if he didn’t have to.

And Tucker’s tech would work with his own.

There’d be a review period of course. He’d have to meet Tucker himself, speak to him a little, get a sense of the man. See how far his opinions would be based in fact, not feeling.

Tim’s vouch was a good first step. As little as Bruce liked that Tim had brought an outsider down to the lab. And then let him use Tim’s computer.

And honestly, it certainly wasn’t Tim’s fault that Bruce hadn’t asked. He’d been lax, not checked properly, and it was that damned concussion slowing him down.

He needed sleep. His thinking was dangerously clouded. But one thing was always true: he trusted Tim’s judgement. Probably more than he trusted his own at the moment.

They could review the situation in the morning, come up with some suitable punishment and protocol to introduce new vigilantes to the cave (which they’d never needed, because other heroes usually came through the League and were already vetted).

A thought struck and Bruce almost smiled. It would be a fitting solution on three separate sides. Maybe the punishment would be easy after all.

“Alright. I’ll need to speak to Foley first. And you will be writing out fresh protocols to address when a new hero but not a league member can be introduced to the cave,” he added, and Tim groaned loudly.

Bruce ignored him. That was just the start of his troubles.

“You will also be responsible for running John Constantine through the full reporting system, and updating the training materials so this doesn’t happen again.” It was a weight off his shoulders, really.

And a fitting punishment, because Tim would definitely think twice before pulling this stunt again. The man himself threw both his hands into the air.

“What?! Bruce! You said you fixed it!” He whined, and Bruce resisted the urge to smile.

“And I fixed Amity Park. But I highly doubt this was his only error, so the two of you will have to review every case he’s reported on before you go back on patrol.”

It was probably several hundred since they’d had the new system alone. Tim groaned like Bruce was sucking the soul from his body.

Bruce levelled him with a stern look.

“I take the secrecy of the cave seriously, Red Robin. This will not happen again.”

“Because I’m gonna die of old age sitting at a desk with Constantine,” Tim grumbled, folding his arms and scowling.

It wasn’t even something he could write a program to fudge for him; every case would need Constantine’s personal input to be sure it was filed correctly.

Bruce was quite pleased with this solution. But he made sure to hide the smile from Tim, who wouldn’t appreciate it right now.

“Tucker Foley may end up working out for us all, but that’s no guarantee a future mistake won’t be fatal. And Tim…” even if it was a formality at this point, he had to ask. “Do you trust him?”

The answer was obvious, this was Tim’s personal laptop, this was the Bat Cave, and as expected Tim nodded immediately, the sulk from his punishment vanishing.

“He’s a good guy. He’s even made a clean set of Amity Park data you can look through until Danny fixes the batcomputer.”

Ah. And there was the problem. With a solution wrapped around it though, so Bruce focused on the cleaned set of data.

If Tucker was anything like Tim, it’d be extensive enough to keep him busy until the Justice League came to a decision.

Until he could speak to Danny. Speak to Jason.

He was so tired.

Bruce nodded, leaning back in his seat.

“Alright. Tucker Foley is exempted, but I need you and the others to stay away from the rest, and particularly Danny Fenton until the League has made a decision.”

It was just a little heart breaking watching Tim’s face fall from hope and happiness straight back into worry.

“But Bruce… he’s helping Jason with the pit, he might need to see him,” he argued, arms folding again.

Bruce shook his head. That was exactly what he was afraid of.

“I know… and I know how Jason feels about following orders. I’ll tell him myself, tonight.” Luckily he was still in the batsuit, if not the cowl.

Raising his wrist to his face, Bruce activated his secondary comm on the group channel. He’d turned both off when his children headed out, fully aware Oracle would override it if they needed him.

He didn’t need to be distracted by the noises of a normal night.

“Everyone, return to the cave before heading in please. There have been developments I need to update you on.” Nothing to worry them, but hopefully interesting enough that Jason would still drop in.

No talk of protocols or anything. No, that was Tim’s future.

Tim, who was looking at him oddly.

“Who told you Jason went out tonight?” He asked, and Bruce frowned. Looked up at the batcomputer, and realized that the tracker screen wasn’t open.

That could be a problem.

“Didn’t he?” He asked, really not looking forward to asking Dick to ask Jason to drop by tonight. If Jason was actually home, actually sleeping…

But Tim shook his head, that odd expression still on his face.

“He never said he would, but he called in after taking Danny home. He’s out with Black Bat,” Tim added, and Bruce frowned.

Why even bring it up if Jason was out? What did it matter?

Tim, clearly seeing and understanding his confusion, groaned and tugged at his hair.

“Bruce. Please, just… listen to me. Danny isn’t the threat here. He’s been nothing but helpful. He’s the one who picked up the ball when the League dropped it, who dealt with all the ghosts we can’t. He saved that town-”

“We don’t know that, Tim,” Bruce cut him off, shaking his head sharply. “We can’t take that risk.”

He could see Tim getting frustrated, temper flaring, and in an odd way, it made him feel better. Calm. In control.

“Bruce, you stubborn… so what? We just tell Jason to keep away from the only person who makes him feel better?” Tim asked sarcastically, and Bruce could see exactly how he’d missed the point.

This was what he’d have to watch for with Tucker Foley. But the technical advantages would be worth it.

“We don’t know that he’s making the pits better,” Bruce said darkly, and fuck it felt good to even voice the thought aloud.

Made it feel real, less like paranoia.

Tim gaped at him, but didn’t argue.

Bruce raised a hand, counting the points off on his fingers.

One.

“None of us heard anything about him a week ago. Not even a few days. Fenton has been here over a year and only just ran into Jason?” It wasn’t possible.

It didn’t make sense. Gotham was a large city, sure, but for two people apparently so closely linked? No.

A second finger rose.

“Danny himself claims that he is helping with the pits.”

“Jason agrees,” Tim cut in, clearly looking to break his train of thought. Bruce silenced him with a stern glare.

“Danny claims he is helping with the pits. Jason claims to have noticed the same thing, but we already know the pits affect his mind. He may not understand what’s being done to him.”

That? That made perfect sense. The pits had driven Jason into those uncontrollable rages, made him do things he’d never have wanted to.

Who was to say they couldn’t have a more subtle influence? More dangerous? More like Ra’s himself.

Even Tim couldn’t argue with that, and Bruce nodded his satisfaction at the boy’s silence, raising a third finger. This… he wasn’t looking forward to this one.

But its weight had been sitting in his chest since the possibility came up, and he didn’t want to hide anything from his boys. They deserved to know the risks.

No matter how much he’d rather protect them from it.

“The little f… Constantine believes there is a chance that even being close to Danny may have dangerous side effects for Jason, purely accidentally.”

Tim’s eyebrow rose at the aborted description, and Bruce was glad he’d clamped down on it. Couldn’t quite meet the boy’s eye as he continued to explain.

“Danny’s connection to… his death,” the words were hard to even speak, another child lost, “is what gives him his power. It’s strong, and may have radiating effects Danny doesn’t even know about.”

Because that was kind of the worst part. There was a chance that Danny truly meant everything he’d said in earnest. That he was Jason’s friend, wanted to protect him.

Wanted to help Jason come back to himself and be free of the pit rage. That they did truly care for each other, and wanted to make each other better.

And none of those good intentions would matter if Danny’s mere presence risked Jason’s soul.

He could see Tim realizing it too, eyes widening and the aggression slumping from his shoulders. But he’d decided to be honest.

Clear, open communication. They could try.

“The way Jason came back… we still don’t know how it happened, or why. But anything half living and half dead can have side effects on the world around them, especially for those who have already died.”

Danny might be here to take Jason away. Back to the dead.

He’d meant to say the words, to lay it bare, but in the end he choked on them. Couldn’t even face the thought.

Tomorrow. After he slept. If they still needed convincing, he’d try again tomorrow. Which did neatly bring them to point number four.

Steeling himself, Bruce shifted his gaze back to Tim, raising his pinky finger.

“And if you are right, if Danny really is helping… it’ll only be for a few days. I meet with the League tomorrow. Zatanna and Shazam will both be there to give their opinions.”

Suddenly Bruce just felt tired. Tired of arguing, trying to make people see things his way. All he wanted was a couple of days. Just to be sure. Just to be safe.

Tim raised an eyebrow again, shifting slowly to lean against the other chair.

“Then why will it be a few days? Why not tomorrow?” He asked cautiously and Bruce chuckled.

Of course Tim knew him well enough to know there would be something else.

“I’d like to talk to him myself first. Perhaps have them meet him directly. Just to be sure what his intentions are in the city.”

“And with Jason,” Tim put in flatly. Bruce just nodded. The boy was right.

“With the city and with Jason,” he agreed, looking back up at the large screens of the batcomputer.

Pulled up the location tracker for his bats and birds, watching their little trails of light run across the city. He wouldn’t let any of those lights wink out.

Tim sighed and shook his head, coming to lean against the back of Bruce’s chair instead. Not quite tall enough to rest his chin on the top of Bruce’s head, and not likely to grow much more at nineteen.

“I still think it’s a bad idea,” he said bluntly, eyes tracking the Red Hood dot in particular. “You’ll only push Jason further away by trying to control who he sees.”

Bruce shook his head, leaning back just a little more into the presence of his son.

“I don’t care if Jason hates me for the rest of his life, so long as it’s a long and healthy one,” he said softly, and Tim snorted.

Pushed away from the chair, and for a moment the distance ached.

“Yeah, well. When it blows up in your face, I told you so. Did you wanna see Tucker tonight or tomorrow?” He asked, and Bruce’s head snapped suddenly around, scanning the cave.

“He’s still here?”

**

Shaking his head, Tim made his way across the cave to the infirmary, pulling out his phone where Bruce couldn’t see it. He shot off a quick text, not looking down.

‘J. Don’t come back to cave. B has mega bitch face just let him cool down’

**

Across the city, the message flashed in the corner of Red Hood’s helmet visor. Groaning to himself, Hood kicked a goon’s gun into Gotham bay and waved to Black Bat.

“You good? I gotta send a text.” He called, deeply offending the eight goons still standing, armed with knives and fucking pipes, and tussling with Black Bat.

Which only got worse when she shot him a quick thumbs up, sat on a particularly tall goon’s shoulders before throwing herself back so far the guy toppled, twisting them in the air so she still somehow wound up on top.

Hood nodded, pulling out his phone one handed.

“Hey! You can’t just text! We’re not done!” A goon protested, rushing in at Red Hood.

Who pulled his gun and shot him in both kneecaps, sending him sprawling to the slick planks of the dock.

This was why he always took out their shooters first. Batman could preach hand to hand all he liked, it was way safer when the bad guys had holes in their hands and no guns.

“Anyone else?” Hood asked rhetorically, pointing the last gun on the dock at the remaining goons in turn. In unison, all six focused their attention solely on Black Bat.

Not because they thought they’d win, but well. She didn’t have a fucking gun.

“Yeah, thought so,” Hood grumbled, sending a quick message back to Tim.

Paused to take a picture when Black Bat actually got three heads at once into a leg lock, because that had to be a record.

‘Is it to do with your big fuck up?’ Cuz honestly, what else could B be pissed about?

The answer came back though, fast and weird.

‘As hard as I also find it to believe this, no. Magician’s got him all twisted around about Phantom. Wants to forbid us all from seeing him.’

The phone creaked in Jason’s grip as he read the last words, a low rumbling growl spilling from low in his chest.

The remaining standing goons whipped around and exchanged startled looks.

That. That definitely wasn’t fucking good. No way.

Black Bat took another to floor as they paused, and the last three fled. Didn’t quite make it to the door.

Jason didn’t notice until her hand landed gently on his shoulder, concern radiating off her. His head whipped round, and he was suddenly glad the full helmet covered his face.

Couldn’t see the way he fucking snarled at her.

Black Bat didn’t move, her head cocked to one side as she regarded him.

“Eyes. Glowing,” she told him carefully, reaching up to touch the side of his helmet.

Jason jerked back in shock, but he could already feel the green rushing away. Receding until his vision purely his own again.

He hadn’t even noticed the green haze.

Black Bat inspected him again, then nodded, going on tiptoes to pat him on top of the head.

“What’s wrong?”

Red Hood sucked in a deep breath, closing his eyes for a moment to recenter. He’d never felt the rage come on that fast, from nothing to all consuming before he even felt it.

Even thinking of the messages made angry green tides again.

We will not be kept from the King!

And it was talking to him again. Lovely. Why couldn’t that part have been his imagination?

Shaking his head, he focused on Black Bat’s question instead.

“Just B bein’ an asshole again. I’m gonna pass on the cave tonight, tell him I went to bed.” It was about as much as he thought he could talk about it without screaming.

Almost forgot that Black Bat could read him too, her aura still soothing and open to him as she nodded. Rested a hand gently on his shoulder.

“Go now. Rest,” she told him firmly, turning back to the downed and groaning goons.

Red Hood hesitated, looking around the dock. It was getting early, nearly time to turn in anyway, and they were done here. Just a routine drug shipment.

The last lot too dense to be cowed by the mood on the streets, or counting on the hour to mean the bats went to bed. Cuz that went so well for them.

He nodded and moved to help her, flipping the biggest goon over and zip tying his wrists to his elbows, and then his ankles.

“After I help you wrap your presents,” he agreed, heard Black Bat let out a soft huff of laughter.

One of the still conscious goons shot him a glare.

“Y’could at least pretend to take us seriously,” she grumbled, then yelped as one of her fellow goons kicked her in the shins.

Clear message: do not push the crazy bat.

Red Hood snorted.

“I’ll take you seriously when you’ve fuckin’ earned it,” he told her, going for the next biggest body.

Black Bat could take every one of them out of the fight, but bagging and tagging a dead weight was much less fun for her. He could handle that part before turning in.

He had a big day tomorrow.

**

Private Chat: DannyP & TooFine

4:30am

‘TooFine: dude Tim just shoved me in a closet I don’t think Batman knows I’m here?????’

‘TooFine: dude’

‘TooFine: dude wake tf up I might need emergency evac 🚨🚨’

4:35am

‘TooFine: that fucking Constantine guy’s put a bug in Batman’s ass’

‘TooFine: told u we shoulda hunted him down 😤’

‘TooFine: and after all I did to help!! Ungrateful bat!!’

4:46am

‘TooFine: okay Batman fucking hates u specifically ur screwed 😳’

‘TooFine: I’m good tho 😇’

‘TooFine: I think he likes me now 😏’

‘TooFine: he wants all my sweet tech upgrades’

‘TooFine: they’re gonna let me play on the batcomputer!!! 😳😳😳’

5am

‘TooFine: u are missing vital updates bitch’

‘TooFine: he’s gonna fucking ground Jason from hanging out with u’

‘TooFine: AH SHIT HE KNOWS IM HERE ABORT ABORT ABORT’

8am

‘TooFine: u may have been right going to bed early man this shit sucks’

‘TooFine: didn’t even get to see what happened’

‘TooFine: they sent me to bed like a naughty child! 😤’

‘TooFine: I’m changing all his ring tones to Funky Town’

10:59am

‘DannyP: okay miette’

11:02am

‘HalfBitch: OKAY IM SORRY TUCKER AT LEAST TAKE THE MAGIC MIKE THEME OFF’

——————————

Next Chapter:

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