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mxtives · 11 months

Text

where she goes

pairing: miguel o’hara x f!reader

rating: mature

word count: 3.6k+

cw: nsfw | 18+, roommates w/ sexual tension, arousal, biting, cunnilingus, vaginal fingering, rough sex, praise, unprotected, p in v

story summary: miguel has finally had enough of you walking around the apartment half naked. so he catches you off guard this time.

notes: I haven’t even watched the movie yet so if there’s any spoilers, they’re v minor. this is also my first tumblr post n I have no idea how to work this 😭 it messed up all my formatting when I brought it over from ao3, where I first posted it. either way I hope it’s still enjoyable

song I named the fic after bc I have no creativity :D

He pressed harder against your backside, bringing your hips flush to the marble counter. By this point you were certain that he wasn't trying to hide the heat just below his waist band. "Your-"

"Don't move," he spoke gruffly, just above a whisper. You stilled as his arms encircled your waist and he leaned his head into the crook of your shoulder, inhaling deeply. He exhaled just as heavily, fingers gripping your sides like his life depended on it.

"Miguel-!" You started, trying to turn your head to face him. One of his hands flew to your jaw, gripping your chin tightly and forcing your gaze forward toward the wall where you could see the shadow of his overwhelmingly large figure stretching across the cabinets before you. "Stop that," he mumbled it against your neck, following up with a harsh bite. You felt his fangs sink into your skin, not deep enough to draw blood but enough to leave an impression. Miguel O'Hara was here. It brought a loud whine from your throat and he lifted his head from your neck in response.

"You can't be prancing around in my apartment in this getup," Miguel grunted, lips against your ear. His hand began to travel, from your waist upward, bringing the hem of your tank with it. "For fucks sake," he said, tugging your tank down harshly. The collar dipped, exposing more of your chest along the way.

"But it's just us in here..." you trailed off as you felt his fingers creep under your tank, now pressing against the base of your ribcage.

"Exactly. Do you even know-!" He cut himself off with a heavy sigh. "Oh you don't know. You don't know at all," he said darkly. His hand didn't stop. Soon it was pressed between your breasts. You swallowed weekly, wanting so badly to look up and see the look on Miguel's face.

"You know what I'm gonna do next, right?" He asked, hands finally coming to a halt. Goosebumps rose across your skin, you lost confidence in your voice, only nodding in response. "Hm? You know what I'm gonna do? And you want it?" He asked again, shifting his hips to where you could feel him even more through your thin spandex shorts.

"Mhm," you hum desperately, not trusting your voice. He only grunted, and the hand on your chin drifted down to your throat, where he gripped firmly enough for you to feel a slight pressure. "Say it."

"Yes," you breathed out, lips trembling as you tucked them into your mouth.

"Good."

His hand left your body for a brief moment, leaving your skin feeling cold in the absence of his touch. After a second and what sounded like a huff from behind you, he was touching you again. All over, his hands trailed from your shoulders to your chest, gripping and massaging in a way that made you mewl. Your waist to your lower back, pushing against it with a large palm. Pushing your stomach further into the counter almost painfully. He rubbed his cock against your ass and you flinched unsuspectingly as you felt his lips on the back of your neck, sucking softly as he massaged your ass with his right hand.

"Mm," he groaned in your ear, a low sound—almost like a growl, from the back of his throat. The heat from your stomach pooled into your panties, and you pushed your ass further against the bulge in his pants. His hand landed down on your ass with a loud clap in response, making you yelp and squirm as pain erupted over the surface of your skin. "Don't move just yet," he growled in your ear.

When his left hand found the waistband of your shorts, you didn't make any attempt to stop him. How long has this been going on? This pent up sexual frustration between the two of you. Countless times has Miguel imagined taking your pants off, slipping your panties down your legs and licking at your cunt until you cried. Bending you over the washing machine and fucking you senseless, every week when you fold clothes past midnight wearing your skimpy fucking 'pyjamas' that hide next to nothing. What he would do to just touch you. Get familiar with the feeling of your skin against his, moulding your figure to his, and learning every surface of your body until he had it all memorized. And now he had all the access he ever wanted, because you gave it to him.

"Can I take these off?" He asked, fingers already dipping past your waistband. You nodded rapidly, barely sighing out a yes. You had barely nodded once before he was yanking the shorts harshly down your legs, jolting you in the process.

Miguel was in a dangerous position. The curve of your ass mesmerized him and he was all so absorbed he almost forgot that he was presently in this moment. He swallowed thickly, bringing his attention away from your backside and to your tank. You had already began to tug the hem upwards before he joined you, pulling the top over your head in one smooth motion.

The removal of your shirt left your hair slightly messy, and Miguel felt his length strain against his slacks as he began to imagine what it'd look like once he was done with you.

You heard the metallic clink of a belt, followed by a zipper and a little bit of shuffling before something heavy was resting against your ass. A soft gasp escapes your lips as you tried to gauge the size of him. Even with his thighs no longer flush to yours, he easily grazed the center of your back. You tried to turn again. Miguel didn't stop you this time, and instead pressed his lips against yours as soon as they were within reach. You sighed into his lips, bringing your arms around his neck.

His shoulders were firm beneath your palms, muscles moving fluidly as he moved to cup your ass. He tugged your thighs, effortlessly lifting you up onto the island counter, making space for himself between your legs. His lips were warm against yours, and you squeezed your eyes shut as he cupped your throat again. His tongue was warm when it pressed against yours, and you couldn't help but moan into his mouth, clenching your fingers against his back. You could compare kissing him to swinging between buildings, jumping from a skyscraper. That adrenaline rush that you loved, you found it all over again in his lips.

"Fuck," he cursed lowly as he pulled away. You tried to chase after him but he was already making his way down your throat with his lips. And he kept moving downwards, until he sunk to his knees and his face was lined up with your navel. Then you finally clued in on what he was about to do.

"Oh, you don't have to..." you trailed off. He was shaking his head, the look on his face indicating no sign of swaying.

"I want to. Of course, you can say no," he uttered, gaze piercing yours. You were basically leaking onto the counter as you stared at the broad man from above. The sight of his hulking figure between your legs, face just inches away from where you ached most, fingers gripping either thigh with enough force to leave bruises. It had your stomach coiling. In fear of what noises you might make should you open your mouth, you placed your hand in his hair instead, just barely nudging him towards you.

The corner of his lip lifted—you think it did, just enough to look like a smirk and not a second later, his face was buried in your pussy.

The long striped he licked from your entrance to your clit had your toes curling, arm going rigid below you. "Oh, fuck," you moaned. His soft brown locs peaked from between your fingers as you gripped at his hair, anchoring yourself while he licked at your cunt like he hadn't eaten in days. When he sucked particularly hard at your clit, you couldn't help but try to clench your thighs closed around his head, but his strong grip kept them where he wanted and he grunted against you in protest. "I'm not done with you," he looked up at you briefly, giving you a glimpse at the mess you'd made of his face. You bit your lip as your clit throbbed, holding in a moan and instead gripped at his hair, looking up at the ceiling through bleary eyes. Miguel let out a delicious moan in response to the tug at his scalp, and the heat in your stomach coiled tighter.

"Ah!" You yelped as you felt him pinch at your inner thigh. "Eyes on me," he murmured against you. The vibration against your clit made you shudder as you snapped your eyes back down to him. He was already looking at you, and for some reason, the intensity in his eyes made your face flush as you struggled to maintain eye contact.

You felt a finger prod at your entrance, Miguel was still looking at you, one brow raised in question. He wanted to know if he could keep going, and you thought of what a stupid idea it would be to say no. You nodded softly at him, urging him on. Slowly, his middle finger presses against you and slips inside with little resistance. Your mouth falls open and you can barely voice a moan when his finger bottoms out inside you. Miguel can feel your cunt flutter and pulse as it stretches around his finger, he can feel every ridge inside your plush walls as you squeeze him tight.

“Mm, oh fuck,” you cried out, fingers gripping at his hair for purchase. This was nothing like it felt to have your own fingers inside you. It was nowhere near close. His fingers were long, thick, and every brush of his knuckles had you jolting around him.

Your stomach felt tighter and hotter as he only fed the fire, curling his finger just barely as he slid it in and out of you. With one quirk of his digit, he was brushing directly against your sweetest spot, and he kept doing so. Over and over again.

“Can you—fuck, can you add another,” you we’re seeing stars. You had never been stimulated like this. Everything felt different with him. Everything felt more. And so you begged him to put another finger in you, knowing that nothing would ever make you feel the way he was. The earlier embarrassment was long gone, you were far too overwhelmed with the sensation he was giving you to care.

When he brings his eyes back to yours, he adds a second finger and glides his tongue over your clit, he feels you clench be wildly around his fingers. He moans along with you, even smiling softly as he watched your face scrunch in pleasure.

Miguel’s fingers begin to move faster, his knuckles slapping against your cunt lewdly as his tongue continues to toy with your clit. It was wet and messy and the sounds you were making only had him moving faster.

“I-I’m-! Miguel!” your jaw was slack as you stammered.

When he brought his thumb up to replace his tongue and rub circles at your clit, you felt the pressure build inside you, the swelling and consuming warmth of your orgasm rock violently against you, your jaw going slack as you fought to keep your eyes from rolling back. Your legs attempted again to close and shut him out, trembling with the shocks of your orgasm. Miguel grunted as he watched you shudder with each pass of his tongue and fingers. If not for your hips canting away from his lips, he might have never stopped, lost in the way you looked as you orgasmed above him.

You were out of breath, but you could've sworn you heard the muttering of what could've been beautiful, fuck or just good girl over your harsh breaths.

Miguel was above you again, swiping a hand over his lips, tongue snaking out to catch what was left of your juices. Your stomach was coiling all over again at the way he was looking at you. Yet, before you could even tell him how good you felt, you were in his arms again.

"Oh!" You barely gasped out before his lips were back on yours. They slid against yours with a renewed fervour, bitting and nibbling at your lips aggressively. His length rested hot against your stomach, and it almost freaked you out how he was so heavy on your navel.

"I'm gonna fuck you so hard," he panted against your lips. "Miguel," you breathed. You felt his length twitch against you. Miguel cursed under his breath, looking down where his dick rubbed against your dripping sex.

No longer feeling patient, you wiggled a hand down between your bodies and wrapped a hand around his length. Miguel sighed above you, tensing as you pumped him once, twice. You shifted your hips closer to his, dragging his tip along your swollen folds.

"Go slow," you advised with a soft whisper, still in the afterglow of your last orgasm.

"Yeah, fuck, I don't wanna rip you in half,"

And then you were easing him into your entrance.

"Cariño," Miguel groaned out as he sunk into you. His eyes were still trained on where you two met, as were yours. You were biting your lip, hard. The stretch wasn't nearly as painful as it could be given your previous orgasm, and the pressure felt good, you felt full. The pressure is delicious, stretching and aching, and exhilarating, intoxicating, and all you can think is how much you've been longing for this. The sharp sensation of something far too big pushing inside you, the way he mutters fuck, your name and a plethora of other curses.

"You're squeezing me tight," he breathes against your temple, sounding like he was under deep strain. "I wish you knew the things I've thought about you at night," he groaned as he canted his hips once softly.

You let out a moan, a mix between a grunt and an embarrassingly loud mewl that you cannot possibly believe came from your mouth. "M-me too," you felt so full you could barely speak. It was a grosse understatement to say you thought about him here and there, but it was all you could muster in the moment that he started to move his hips.

"Yeah?" His teeth are at your neck again, licking in time with his thrusts and leaving marks wherever he could reach. "Good. 'Cause you're all I can think about,"

Your stomach stirs at his words, clenching around him as he moves inside you, once, twice, and a third time, particularly harsh.

Miguel doesn't last long before he's hoisting you up, wrapping your legs around his waist and trapping himself within you. Your breath hitches as the movement seats him inexplicably deep inside you, forcing your chest high in the air as if trying to escape the intrusion.

"I wanna take you to bed," He's already walking away as he says so, walking swiftly with you in his arms as if he was holding a sack of feathers. With every step, you jostled against his length, every footfall pushing him in and out of you and up against your womb. Your hands were in his hair and your lips tucked tightly into your mouth, holding back your many sounds of pleasure.

Before you could even reach for the light switch, Miguel was whisking you away, depositing you on the bed like you weighed nothing and holding himself above you, arms pulled taught as he strained to keep himself still. His eyes strayed across every surface of your skin in the dim room, and his hands followed his gaze, trailing up your sides, your arms, your hips. "Fuck, look at you," he mutters, eyes low and dark. You want to cower away from his gaze, use your hands to make a feeble attempt to cover yourself up, but something in his eyes tells you that he wouldn't stand for that.

"C'mere," he's on your lips again, still buried inside you. Just a minute ago, he was pushing deeper inside you than you thought was possible, and now there's this gentle sliding of lips and tongues, Miguel is nibbling at you and his hands hold the sides of your face, the back of your head, and suddenly your neck. His hand covers the blossoming hickeys on your skin and your head begins to empty itself of anything but the thought of him.

"I want to kiss you everywhere," he mutters against your mouth, weakly kissing at the corner of your lips. You couldn't muster a response, instead placing a palm flat against his lower stomach. You needed him to move again. Your core was aching so badly for him, it almost made you want to cry.

"Move," you breathed out, one hand wrapping around his own that was gripping your throat. Miguel's lips formed a weak smirk, peering down at you a lust filled gaze.

"C'mon cariño," he was thrusting again now, softly, in and out of your cunt. The arm he'd been leaning on begins to shake visibly. "You must know by now," Your neck craned in his grip, tipping your head back against the pillow as your core began to heat up all over again. "Know what?"

"How hard it's been to keep my hands off you. Fuck, how much I've wanted this, wanted you, almost since the very beginning," His eyes are glazed, muscles taught as he peers down at you through heavy lids. Your chest begins to rise and fall dramatically, short of breath and short of words. Your knuckles go pale as you fist the sheets, while Miguel moves his supporting hand to grip at your hip, fingers practically piercing your skin. You shudder as he cants his hips with new rhythm, thrusting harder and deeper into you. He tells you how beautiful you are, how he wants to feel all of you, kiss you and fuck you for hours. You cling to his arms as you feel the spasms rise, your body rocking with each of his sharp thrusts.

He slips out, and back in again while his hand explored the small of your back, pulling you into him. Your head fell back against the pillow, a mewl escaping your lips as his thrusts turned fast and consuming, forcing tremors of pleasure up your spine.

"You gonna come sweetheart?" His thumb was tracing your bottom lip, hand still tight around your neck. You nodded wordlessly, eyes focused on the vague image of his face through blurry eyes. You couldn't muster very many words in your fucked out state. "Say it," Miguel said firmly, his hand shifting back to your hip to find more purchase.

You had both of your hands gripping his wrist now. "I’m gonna come," your eyes were watering. "P-please," you gasped out between thrusts.

He was smirking. "Good girl," Then the hand on your throat returned to your hip, gripping tightly as he began to piston his hips into yours at an unforgiving pace. Your chest jolted with every thrust and Miguel couldn't seem to draw his gaze away from your blissed out face. You cried out, back arching away from the bed, legs locking around his waist to bring him impossibly closer to you.

"C'mon cariño," he coaxed you and the spasms started, the heat in your stomach exploding across your body. "Miguel," his name left your lips with a moan as your hips rose from the bed to meet his thrusts, eyes screwing shut as the sensation washed over your body, your legs twitching.

"That's it cariño, good girl," He voice came out strained, continuing to fuck you through your orgasm while chasing after his own. Everything was still blurry when you heard him make a crude noise, shuddering as he pumped hard and muttered nonsense into your neck. You felt his orgasm, his trembling arms as he spilled inside you and his hips came to a halt. A new shiver ripped through your spine as he filled you, and you couldn't stop a smile from growing on your lips. You both panted heavily, the air hot around you as sweat slicked your bodies.

"Fuck," Miguel grunted as he slipped out of you and leaned over your twitching body. His palms ran the length of you thighs, smoothing over the goosebumps erupting on your skin. You took a moment to catch your breath, looking up at his face in the pale light of the moon. He looked handsome even when his face shined with sweat.

"Good?" He whispered, eyes on yours as you gazed at him silently. It took you a moment to nod, still feeling the aftershocks of your orgasm. Whether he was confirming that you were okay, or if the sex was good, you weren't sure, but the answer to both was yes. You leaned into the hands that were caressing your skin gently.

"Yes," you voiced it out loud, pushing yourself up slowly with two weak arms. "That was amazing," you sighed out. You made a move to draw your legs to yourself, meaning to head to the washroom, but a hand on your waist stopped you.

Oh.

When your gaze fell curiously back to Miguel's blank face, you realized, upon looking down, that he was still painfully hard. "I'm not done with you," he said lowly, just like before, pushing you back towards the bed with a hand on your shoulder. "Yeah, I should've known better," you smiled weakly. Miguel chuckled, his figure looming over you becoming all too familiar. "You should've. It's gonna be a long night."

#atsv miguel #miguel o'hara #miguel o’hara x reader #miguel o’hara x you #smut #my writing #mxtives #spider man 2099 #spider man: across the spider verse #Spotify

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cursedcola · 2 years

Text

A/N: Hi Everyone! An anon put in a request for this but Tumblr was a butt with formatting and deleted the origional post that I had it on. Anon, if you’re reading this then I'm super sorry. I hope you find this post.

This is going to have 2 parts.

Synopsis: They say something hurtful to their s/o and make them cry. Characters: Ace Trapolla, Jade Leech, Leona Kingscholar, and Ridde Rosehearts Warnings: None Part (1/2)

Read the second half: here

Ace Trappola

"Y'know, I thought Grimm was the slacker all this time but maybe I was wrong? Don 'cha think, Deuce?" he laughed, ruffling your hair in an affectionate manner.

His laughter continued until he realized that he was the only one. You were uncharacteristically still, and Deuce too stunned to speak. The only give away being the instantaneous shift in the room's atmosphere.

"Guys?...Hello?" Ace arched a brow in confusion, stilling his hand that remains on your head.

In his defense, Ace never thought you to be sensitive or someone to overthink. Before he was your boyfriend, you both were best friends. Playful mocking and quips were natural.

Dating didn't stop the way you both would banter either. In fact, he would agree that the teasing has definetly gotten worse. You have a knack for making quick comebacks and that makes it easy for one joke to turn into an entire comedy act.

It's Ace's favorite thing about your dynamic and he feels comfortable enough to say whatever he wants now. Everything is natural. You compliment each other.

"Dude...that's harsh coming from you of all people," Deuce's momentary shock is overcome by anger, and he shove's Ace's arm off of your head. Ace lets him but not without a surprised curse escaping his lips.

He's confused and nearly bites back when a meek voice beats him to it.

'Why would you say that? You know how hard I studied for this test. You know that this is my worst subject,' your voice meets his ears, and all anger at Deuce fades away. You're still standing as he left you, with hair unkept and in your face from his recent attack.

Ace's eyes first note your fists clenched at your sides, then to your shoulders hiked up to your ears. Your body trembles slightly, and that's when he finds the water droplets pooling at your chin.

Ace never thought you would be a silent crier, like a child holding back tears after being denied a toy at the store. He always imagined you to be loud, and needy, and demanding, and just like him. He wouldn't cry if someone commented on his grades, so he expects the same from you.

Predictability

His complimentary piece

Why? Why are you crying? It's not a big deal, just laugh it off.

Why is Deuce comforting you while he sits here like an idiot. That's his job, he knows you best.

"You know I didn't mean it like that! C'mon (Y/N), I was only messing around," he reaches for you again in an attempt to brush the situation off.

Deuce shouts his name in anger yet it's muffled in Ace's ears. He watches you deflate further in Deuce's hold, before pushing the boy off and bolting towards the nearest door.

Ace...he fucked up

How many times has this happened without him realizing it? Where he's said something that hurt you, brushed it off, and left you to deal with it on your own

Maybe you weren't as similar as he thought

Jade Leech

Jade knows mixing buisness with personal affairs quickly leads to no good. Azul understands this as well.

As a result, all official affairs involving Ramshackle's prefect were to be sorted out by either Floyd or Azul himself. Ever since he became the prefect's partner, Jade was not to be involved in any dealings, contracts, negotiations, or...more 'unique' matters. He is only allowed if their safety was in question or the issue is purely personal.

"Bring all matters to me immediately. Do not engage without my consent, are we clear Jade?" Azul said to him the day your relationship became public.

Not because he doubted Jade. No, Azul trusted his judgement.

This rule was set to protect his relationship. To protect you

Jade is aware that many do not like him; the silent killer with the aura of a true gentleman. His hands are stained black while his brother's are red. At first their prey's focus is on Floyd, deeming him the bigger threat.

They always learn how wrong they are.

Jade does not hide this side of himself from you. If you ask, then he'll respond in kind. He simply does not bring the topic up himself. Some call this lying through omission, he calls it keeping you safe.

The three merfolk will not allow their past or buisness to mess with Jade's newfound happiness. Anything involving their 'buisness,' will be handled as a group, with Jade ensuring you are not involved whatsoever.

This agreement worked for the most part. Especially since Azul stopped doing unsavory acts in the name of contracts.

There was merely 'cleanup' duty. On occasion a student seeking revenge for being duped appeared, and the Leech twins would handle it swiftly. There was never a trick they didn't predict, or a plan they couldn't thwart.

Until one vengeful soul decided to come after you. The unbreakable trio's "weak-point"

Floyd was the first to notice the target on your back, considering he normally clung to your side during the school day. Bad luck seemed to be your new shtick, with many "accidents" happening suspiciously often. Mislabeled chemicals at your alchemy station, a crack in the leg of your desk-chair, spoiled vegetables in your dinner...

Needless to say, someone was out to get you. You were no fool and connected the dots quickly. At first, you believed someone was targeting you for being a non-mage. Yet before you could ask for help, the Leech twins became your shadow.

During they day both boys would be at your hip, and at night Floyd would disappear for "overtime," yet refused all your offers to help at the monster lounge. No, you were to stay with Jade and be a 'good little shrimpy' until Floyd came back.

'Jade...is something wrong? I love all the attention you've been giving me lately, but don't you have work too?' you asked after the third night, wanting an explanation.

Jade expected this. He offered his trademark smile, vague reassurances, and quickly changed the topic while beginning to walk you home. Every time you made an attempt to discuss the issue he would somehow avoid it.

'Jade, knock it off. You know something about all the weird things happening and I want an explanation. Now.' you said authoritatively, digging your heels into the ground and refusing to move until he explained himself.

Between your accusatory tone, persistent behavior, and how long it was taking to find the halfwit coward messing with his personal affairs- he snapped.

"Explain myself? Why should I explain when you can offer no help. Is it so troublesome to remain quiet for two minutes? Why must you insist on making my work more difficult?"

He spoke with his characteristic smile, eyes closed, and hand drawn to his breast. The smile he gives his patrons, meant to strike fear in their hearts.

"Work? I'm work to you? Is all this just work for you?," you began, eyes welling with tears, "You're so focused about upholding those stupid contracts, well what about ours?! If you're not going to be honest -treating me like some chore- then forget it. Forget it all,"

You barrel past him and into your dorm. On the outside, Jade remains like a statue in front of your dormitory. He did not intend to come off uncaring, but wanted for you to quit prying. If only until you were safe and Floyd found the culprit.

Anger fills him, and he decides to leave you alone to calm down. For now, he trusts the cat will comfort you in his place and that the lurking fae will watch over the dorm.

Disregarding what just happened for the moment, he plans to find the clod responsible for this mess. Burn all his anger, make sure everyone knows who's protection you are under. Then he'll get you to forgive him, somehow.

Leona KingScholar

In Leona's defense, you were not part of the origional conversation. You merely walked in at the wrong time, taking his words out of context

On the other hand, he didn't even try to explain himself when given the chance. You stood there. You waited. You prompted him to continue or at least explain the circumstances of the conversation

"You don't mean that, right?" quiet. Waiting in the doorway, still clutching the knob with one foot in the room. You wanted to run, yet still remained to hear him out.

Yet he let his pride take over, his need to be seen as a superior by his dormmates. He couldn't let them see how much of a lovesick fool he actually was.

It's no secret that Leona acts like a spoiled princeling. He skips classes, talks like he owns every room he walks in, commands his classmates like henchmen, actually has one as a servant, complains 24/7--the list goes on

Yet, he keeps his position as leader because of his strength. He is strong-willed, intelligent, and will beat the crap out of anyone who challenges his authority. No one commands him.

At least, until you showed up. Now the head honcho has a partner and is 'going soft,'. His underclassmen have the gull to say that he's losing his edge. The fact they would even say this to his face shows how much respect Leona has lost from the rumor

What did you want him to do? He had to defend his position

"Are you kidding? I get a new toy and suddenly you're all bent. Let's get something straight, I don't need (Y/N) and will do whatever the hell I want, when I want. Wag your tongues some more and we'll see if you can make a single syllable after I'm through"

And that's when you walked in. He called you a toy. He said he didn't need you in his life. He basically through your relationship under the bus.

Yet he couldn't take it back. He held his ground, arms crossed with a silent stare of indifference. He couldn't do it with his underclassmen watching. He stayed firm, hoping to explain later despite how troublesome it would be to have you angry at him. Yet he's certain that you'll understand...

"If you don't need me. If it's all a game...then I'll go. I'm sorry for wasting your time, Leona"

You closed the door with a loud bang. Leona felt his breathing halt as all his underclassmen stared at him in shock.

Your tears. The strong scent of salt. He didn't-

"Crap"

Riddle Rosehearts

Riddle was accustomed to attention. Ever since childhood he has consistently remained in the spotlight. He's given speeches, proposed toasts, had hundreds of eyes on him at once. Never has he faltered under their gazes. He's thrived, always having a way to turn the odds in his favor.

"No," one word.

One word destroyed everything. A simple, curt response in between bites of cake.

One response, to a question he barely heard over the pounding of his own heart.

One second, for your light to crumble. For the table to fall silent.

It was the last unbirthday of the schoolyear. Summer break begins tomorrow, and as everyone else heads home you would remain on campus with the headmaster.

The table was alive with conversation, everyone discussing what they'll do during the break. You mentioned working with Headmaster Crowley to find a way home, and suddenly the conversation took a twist. Questions about your homeland, thoughts on what you'll do after returning, and promises to visit.

Riddle lost himself. Since becoming his partner, Riddle had convinced himself that you wanted to stay in Twisted Wonderland. He thought you loved him. He thought you wanted to stay with him.

He tuned out when you began to ramble about your world, missing bits and pieces of the conversation around him. Giving automated nods and responses.

Then you were looking at him, beaming brighter than he's ever seen. You're rambling, waving your arms animatedly in excitement, you're asking him-what are you asking him? He misses half of it but-

"--right Riddle? You agree, right?” You’re looking at him expectantly, and he panics.

He denies to be safe, not knowing what he would be agreeing to.

It’s then that the table falls silent, and all in attendance look surprised. Even Trey appears disapproving.

'What?' he faintly hears your voice crack, reaching over the table to grasp his hand. His eyes widen in a panic and pulls away unthinking.

A mistake, as you fall more sullen in response. As if he confirmed whatever he denied to be true.

Tears gather at the corners of your eyes, and Riddle feels his stomach fill with dread as you move to stand.

“Oh-oh, I’m sorry. Uhm...I guess I misunderstood,” You fold your napkin, gather your things, and sniffle. Yet before leaving, you offer a reassuring grin. One that confuses Riddle further, “I mean- that’s fine. No need to feel bad or anything, okay? I should have asked first before springing that on you. I just...yeah. I’ll see you guys next year if the portal isn’t up, yeah?”

And with that, you’re gone. Grimm follows close behind but not before sneering Riddle’s way. The man in question still sits frozen, unable to comprehend what just occurred or how to proceed. How can he fix a problem he has no idea about?

“Dorm-Head...normally when I call you heartless it’s a joke, but that? That was cruel, even for you,”

Panic creeps up in his chest again, considering Ace of all people spoke and yet no one was denying him. He looks to Trey, and in that moment it clicks for the vice-leader what happened

“Riddle, you denied loving them. In front of everyone. They asked if you wanted them to stay and you said ‘no’”

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20forty9 · 2 months

Text

I Didn't Mean To Haunt You

Chapter I - From Me, To You

Summary : You just wanted to understand what it felt like to be human, but instead ran into a cruel fate. After being cursed, you must revisit your past to find how to break the pattern, all while moving forward. It was supposed to be a one-man job, but why do you suddenly seem to be surrounded by so many people that you cherish? Why are you having second thoughts about this? Maybe things don't have to end this way. But maybe they do.

Word Count : 12k

Warnings : Suicidal ideation/attempt

Pairings : Gojo Satoru/Reader, Geto Suguru/Reader, Everyone/Reader (Reverse Harem)

Cross-posted on Ao3

A/N: I honestly don't care about Tumblr formatting as much as I do Ao3, so take this. If it looks funky, mb but idgaf LMFAO. All characters are depicted as 18+.

There are different kinds of curiosity: one comes from self-interest, which makes us want to know everything that may be profitable to us; another from pride, which comes from a desire to know what others are ignorant of. ~ Francois De La Rochefoucauld

Curiosity is an innate characteristic of being human. Existing in one from birth; a flame that, once lit, is impossible to extinguish. It burns bright until the one holding the candle passes on.

If curiosity is so human, then why does a spirit, sworn to its duties, experience it?

And so violently, too.

It feels like all the questions it wants answered are trying to tear themselves out of its skin, keeping its mind racing every moment it finds itself unoccupied. What is a pure companionship? What does a handmade meal taste like, made with care and patience? What does hatred feel like? What does it mean to feel alive, to live your life to the fullest? What is loneliness?

What is hurt?

What is love?

Hundreds of unanswered questions, an unending list that grows more and more each day, until it can’t take it anymore.

All the things it liked to do in the past to bring itself entertainment feel dull. There isn’t a rush of satisfaction after playing a trick on another fellow spirit or even a curse; the feeling of a smug victory after being yelled at for causing yet another mess in the realm is missing; the bathhouse is full of greedy spirits desperate to wash mankind’s pollution from their very being, pushing against each other and fighting – it’s disheartening.

It has had enough.

It ventures to the outskirts of the sacred forest, the air surrounding it unusually heavy and suffocating; oppressive . There’s not a single bird singing – not that it would be able to hear them, in the first place, but there are no telltale signs of branches rustling that move along with the birds. There’s no breeze, either, it notices. This is strange.

It feels dead leaves crunching underneath the sole of its bare feet, rocks digging into its heels and small sticks poking its toes. Undeterred, it continues along the natural pathway carved into the forest floor – indented from frequent use by humans, spirits and animals alike.

There’s a presence nearby, the spirit can tell. It’s an indescribable feeling that it feels often, almost as if it's being watched, hairs on the back of its neck rising as it snaps its head to the right, presumably in the general direction of the presence.

Squinting its eyes, its keen vision picks up the person’s cursed energy long before they enter its field of sight. There, through the forest thicket, a woman dressed in royal red robes takes careful steps, mindful not to catch herself on any loose branches or stones. Her light blonde hair cascades over her shoulders; long, flowing, looking silky and smooth to the touch. She keeps her hands hidden behind the long sleeves of her robes. Her porcelain skin contrasts against the deep red lipstick adorning her lips, a gold pendant resting around her delicate neck and dipping into her neckline. The spirit’s eyes trace every enchanting feature of this mysterious woman, feeling its gaze quickly snap back up to her face as they trail too far past her neckline.

The woman stops a few short feet away from the spirit, not facing it, but obviously not oblivious to its presence. They are both acutely aware of each other, letting the dead quiet of the forest envelop them both.

Her lips move to form words, but the spirit is too distracted by the shiny layer of gloss that accentuates the deep red painting them. It subtly pinches itself to shake it out of its reverie, focusing on telling the words apart instead of getting lost in the alluring siren standing before it.

“What are you?” She asks it, tilting her head to look at it in its eyes. “You’re beyond human… I can feel it.”

Instead of replying, it nods slightly.

“Not much of a talker, are you?” The woman chuckles, it can tell by the repetitive rise and fall of her chest, eyes crinkling closed – the smile does not reach her eyes. So strange. “The least you could do is introduce yourself.”

It quietly replies with its name. It cringes, nose scrunching in awkwardness, knowing its voice is off – a few syllables missing, maybe, or its voice pitching in different tones. “My name. You?”

“Oh my,” she giggles again, this time a clothed hand coming to cover her mouth. It drops back down once she calms herself down. “You talk in such a peculiar way… but, your voice…”

She steps closer to it, raising her hand to trail a finger along its bicep. “You can’t hear, can you?”

It shakes its head to confirm her suspicions, breath hitching lightly at the close proximity.

“Let me describe your voice to you, then.” The hand touching the spirit’s bicep moves to its chest, pressing down lightly to force it to sit down on a fallen tree log. The woman quickly hikes one leg over its thigh, plopping herself down on its lap, making herself comfortable. Skin peeks through the slit of her robes, the supple, soft skin of her thigh calling out to the spirit to place a hand there, and it does so, albeit after an awkward pause.

The blonde raises her hands to gently hold its face, tracing its jawline, eyes boring into its mismatched ones. Her eyes are a deep grey, the spirit notices; a tempermental cloud, the reflection of light in her orbs akin to the strike of lightning.

It's suddenly aware of her chest pressing against its own, trying to get her body as close as possible.

“ Seductive ,” Her lips form the words, it feels the rumble of her voice verberating against itself. “Deep, and low. It’s beautiful, a shame you can’t hear yourself speak.”

“You could bring nations down to their knees with a voice like that,” she says, sending a shiver down its spine.

What is this feeling? The spirit thinks to itself. It feels like a knot in my stomach, a burning sensation. It's not sure if it likes it.

“I can see so many questions in your eyes, spirit,” the woman continues. “Know that with me, you will have potential. A curious thing like you can’t go to waste, can you?”

What is going on? Blood feels like it's rushing away from its head, the warmth in its stomach spreading throughout its entire body, making its fingertips tingle.

“Come with me,” her hands trail to its back, digging her nails into its shoulder blades, muscles rippling underneath her touch. “I’ll make you discover amazing things. A powerful future awaits you.”

The offer is enticing; maybe this is what it has been waiting for, the opportunity to finally answer those questions constantly running through its mind. The spirit isn’t entirely stupid; it knows that this woman wants something in return. No human ventures through this forest without having a plan to come across whatever unfortunate spirit’s path and asking for a blessing after providing an offering. Maybe if it plays its cards right, it can trick her to work this out in its own favour, without it having to sacrifice much in return.

The spirit moves its hand away from the woman’s thigh, pointing at her wordlessly.

“I’m a simple being,” she sighs, immediately understanding its wordless question. Tucking a strand of hair behind her ear, her eyes flick over to the scenery surrounding the two of them. “I want what any other person would like to have.”

It tilts its head to the side in confusion, not completely catching onto what she meant.

“Power,” she starts, “fame, fortune, all the men in the world tumbling down to their knees to worship the ground which I walk upon… and immortality, of course.”

Ah, the age-old request. The spirit frowns, eyebrows knitting together and lips slightly downcast. How typical, how boring – and to think the spirit was starting to become entertained by this unknown woman.

She notices the change in behaviour, and simply gives a light pat to the spirit’s cheek before resting her hands on its shoulders.

“Oh, don’t give me that look. I’m different,” she reassures it, declaring it with the utmost conviction. “I will change the shaman world as we know it.”

Shamans. Now, that is a familiar word. Whispers of shamans, sorcerers, wizards & witches and what-have-you passed through the bathhouse on the daily. Normal spirits aren’t too worried, but there’s word that cursed spirits are being wiped out one by one, trying to make the world a safer place , in the shamans’ words.

“It’s rotten out there, you know,” the woman says. “People are so selfish, greedy and impulsive.” Like you? The spirit thinks to itself, raising an eyebrow. “Violent and angry.”

It doesn’t understand those words; yes, it has heard of those emotions, but it has never experienced them. So it continues to blankly stare at the woman, waiting for her to continue with her spiel.

“Their hatred is what keeps us shamans alive.”

Her grip tightens on its shoulders.

“One day, someone will try to take over and become the most powerful shaman in history. That person will be me . I’ll change our society. But…”

…

“...It’s not enough. I want more,” she continues, “I need more. But I require more firepower for that, more time, and there are countless other goals I want to achieve – will achieve, no matter the price. Nobody understands me, not like a spirit would.”

This… could actually pan out for the spirit, if the odds are in its favour. This woman is obviously obsessed with her self-centered desires. A binding vow is a binding vow, even non-humans face its negative repercussions, but there are always loopholes, especially for a spirit as cunning as itself. A life free of its original duties, in exchange for the curse that is immortality. A fair trade, indeed.

The resolution must show in its eyes, because the woman gets up from its lap to stand on her feet, taking a few steps back to let it stand up as well. She extends her left hand, strangely enough, but the spirit shrugs it off as an unusual quirk of hers. It extends its own left hand in reciprocation, their fingertips grazing before their hands finally clasp together. Their eyes never leave each other as they shake on it.

The woman brings her right hand up to her face, holding her pointer and middle finger up and nearly touching her nose with them, mumbling incoherent words that the spirit cannot lipread. Suddenly, dark purple wisps emerge from her left arm, forming tendrils that slowly wiggle as if they have a mind of their own, crawling away from her and onto the spirit’s arm. It frantically tries to unclasp her hand, attempting to tug its arm away but to no avail; it’s like their hands are glued together.

The tendrils make contact with the spirit’s bare skin along its arm, and it feels like acid is sinking deep into its bones, a burning feeling spreading all throughout its body. It’s agonizing. It’s painful.

It hurts.

It looks from the tendrils back at the woman’s face, a deranged look in her eyes as her smile stretches wickedly, the corners of her lips nearly touching her ears as she shows off all her unnaturally pearly white teeth. Her body heaves – this is clearly not an easy task for her – but she is somehow successfully draining incredible amounts of energy from the spirit.

“I imagine it must feel strange being overpowered by a weak human, am I right?” She cackles as she lets the cancerous tendrils do their work, eyes unnaturally wide and sunken-in. The ache in its bones spreads to its spine, sending unpleasant shivers running down its back, making its legs weak.

With its right hand, the spirit snaps its fingers, sending a large swoosh of fire, targeting the woman, but the lack of energy makes the attack more inaccurate. Just as the flames flicker too closely to her, black tendrils appear from the ground and easily block the fire before it can touch her; this must be a part of her technique.

Spots start to appear in the peripheral of the spirit’s vision, a wave of nausea and dizziness overcoming it. Another snap of its right hand, but the small explosion rumbles the ground too far off to have been anywhere near its opponent. At this point, she blurs in with the background, royal red robes blending with the rich green of the trees, and the spirit feels its knees buckle before it falls to the ground face-first.

Finally, it feels the woman let go of its left arm, letting it follow the rest of its body, falling limply to the ground. It gathers just enough strength to turn its head to the right, squinting its eyes as a last-ditch attempt to make out her features.

“I’m glad we were able to come to an agreement, spirit,” it can just barely make out what she’s saying. “And to answer your question from earlier…”

“...I am Madame Suliman.”

And finally, its vision completely fails, body going completely limp as it falls unconscious.

It’s a clear night, the stars shine brightly in the sky, not a single cloud to obstruct them. If you squint your eyes just right, you can see a plane’s lights blink on and off, slowly moving through the dark expanse.

The long sleeves of your ragged sweatshirt scratch at your skin, reminding you of your current situation. Cheeks sunken in, dried scabs and unhealed cuts litter your arms. Your ripped running shoes are covered in mud and speckled with your own blood. Your stomach rumbles loudly, sides cramping angrily at the lack of food over the past few days – or was it weeks? Experiencing hunger in the way only a human could was not new to you, but it was just as uncomfortable and strange as the first time you had felt it. However, things would change soon, you think to yourself. Things will change.

You walk along a tall bridge that looks over a river whose water flows quickly, slamming against exposed rocks and sending waves crashing against each other. If you tried to reach out, you would feel the energy and life from the river, coursing through your veins. But you don’t.

Matted hair falls in front of your face as you take a peek over the edge of the bridge. It’s so dark out that the flowing water looks like a void, the stars reflected in it making it look like the sky never ends and the horizon never stops, blending seamlessly and wrapping around you entirely.

Is this what peace feels like?

You don't feel anything other than the cramping in your stomach, hands coming up to clutch and squeeze your sides to try and give your body at least a second of reprieve.

This is not peace, you decide.

You close your eyes, moving your arms to grasp the railing of the bridge. Your foot blindly seeks out to find a small ledge to heave yourself up further over the railing, too weak to use your arms to lift up your entire body.

Just as you feel your foot catch onto a small step, there’s a flash of light beyond your eyelids, making you snap your eyes open. There, to your right, down on the riverbank; a gaggle of kids messing around with each other, watching the eldest of the group light another firework. There’s a small straight line of light that shoots straight up before a sudden burst of colour explodes in your vision.

Blues, purples, reds and greens flow into a thousand sparks, and you can nearly feel the sound verberate through your chest.

The kids all have large grins spread across their faces, one exclaiming in surprise and pointing out to a bright red firework going off. The smell of gunpowder tingles your nostrils, leftover smoke covering the reflection of the stars in the glimmering water.

Not here.

You take your foot off the ledge, taking a step back, but your hands remain firmly planted on the railing of the bridge. It was so close, yet so far. The cramps seem to pulse in discomfort tenfold this time, making you hunch over yourself until your forehead presses against the cool metal where your hands rest.

When can this all be over?

Clearly, not soon enough. This isn’t the place…

Tomorrow, then.

A sudden and quick tap on your right shoulder makes you turn your head slightly, smooshing your cheek against the railing to see who would be bothering you at this time of night. A man in a black sports jacket and dark grey jeans stands next to you. His buzz-cut is clearly done by himself, some hair sticking out at random angles that he had missed in the mirror when he shaved his hair off. His moustache is recently shaved, but it looks like he’s trying to grow a beard; the hair on his chin is left untouched. His shoes are well-worn – clearly this man does regular exercise, which is probably why he was out at this hour. There’s a serious look in his dark brown eyes as he looks at you.

The man’s lips move, and you suspect that this guy is asking you if you’re alright. You give a weak nod in reply, raising your left hand to your ear and then making an ‘x’ as you bring your right hand up to cross both of them with each other. Hopefully it gets your point across pretty easily without the latter knowing sign language. I can’t hear.

The man nods, taking out his flip phone from his jacket’s pocket, large thumbs moving awkwardly against the small keypad before he turns the screen to you. You squint your eyes, trying to adjust them to the sudden harsh light.

- Need food? YES or NO.

Surprised, you nod awkwardly. Is this guy serious ? The man turns the phone back towards himself, typing again.

- U have place to stay? Y / N?

You shake your head this time. No, you ran from the only place that dared to house you, if it could even be called a home . It was the furthest thing from it.

The man closes his flip phone, motioning to you to follow. If you were in any other state of mind, you would maybe think twice instead of blindly following this man, but your hunger and exhaustion take over. The potential idea of having even just a single bite of food and maybe a soft pillow to rest your head on is too promising of an opportunity to pass up. You don't feel any weird aura from the man, either – but maybe that’s just your senses being dulled by everything else going on right now.

…What were you just doing, anyways? Where did you come from again…?

Your movements are sluggish as you take a step towards the man, disregarding your own worried thoughts about forgotten plans from just mere moments ago. Your right knee buckles slightly underneath your weight, but you heed it no mind; not until you take another step and your vision starts to spot at the edges, creating a warped tunnel in front of you. You collapse, feeling yourself fall into a pair of strong arms before everything goes completely black, enveloping you completely and taking your consciousness away with it.

The years pass by in a muddled mess, and now you look at yourself in the mirror. Your hand holds your chin as you stare at the jagged scar that runs from the top of your right eyebrow, along the bridge of your (currently broken) nose, down to your left cheek. Another smaller scar sits right next to the bigger one in your eyebrow, almost looking like a claw mark.

Your eyebrows furrow in distaste at the ugly scars, nose wrinkling before you hiss at the pain that pangs throughout your face. The bandage currently resting along the bridge of it feels like it’s barely doing its job at holding the broken bone in place, and to distract yourself from the persistent ache, you look up into your mismatched eyes. Your right eye is its original colour, but your left eye is a deep, vibrant magenta that you still aren't used to seeing. There’s a distinct lack of light that should normally be reflected in your eyes – instead, they look empty. Worn out. Cold.

Your gaze trails down to your left arm, which is left uncovered by a black sleeveless compression shirt. The curse mark looks back at you, an ugly dark purple with a lighter, thick burgundy outline. It’s in the shape of the tendrils that once crawled along your skin, leaving their permanent mark deep within your bones. It covers nearly your entire forearm, looking like a messed-up tattoo. The pain is constant, only slightly dulled with whatever concoction of medicine Yaga tends to give you. Never in a thousand years did anyone think a spirit could ever experience chronic pain, yet here this one stands, insomnia riddled nights keeping you awake and acutely aware of the never-ending throbbing. The dark bags underneath your eyes speak for themselves.

Your hair hasn’t been cut since Yaga took you in, and you style it the way you usually like it, making sure that there’s enough hair that covers your ears completely.

Besides the curse mark, the purple eye and the broken nose, everything else seems to be in place as it normally should be.

Your knit-picking of yourself gets interrupted by a presence on the other side of the bathroom door. You can tell someone is knocking by the way that the old handle shakes and the door slightly bounces back and forth in its frame.

Sighing through your nose, you open the door to reveal a familiar man. Yaga’s buzzcut is what greets you first as the teacher seems to be looking down, fumbling with something in his hands. Oh, the elastic bandages. Your left hand goes to grab it, distracting Yaga from his awkward struggle and grabbing his attention.

The man seems to be saying something unintelligible as he drops the wraps into your awaiting hands.

“ Here you go, ” Yaga signs to you once he realized that you couldn’t understand him, “ they’re clean bandages. Do you still have the dirty ones in here ?”

You turn to the sink where the discarded bandages lay. There’s dried blood and dirt littered all over the fabric, wordlessly telling Yaga everything he needs to know about what happened. The teacher quietly watches as you unfurl the clean wraps before enveloping your left arm with the bandages, just enough to cover the mark of the curse. One-handed, you struggle with tucking the wrap properly so it doesn’t fall off, so Yaga swats your right hand away to do it himself.

Finally secured properly, you take a step back to create a bit of distance between the two to take another look in the mirror. You nod your head, approving of the placement of the bandage. No sign of the curse mark underneath it.

“ Now that you’re all fixed up, there’s something I want to discuss with you,” Yaga signs to you again. “ Do you mind reading my lips? ”

You shake your head. Thankfully, Yaga’s beard isn’t too obstructive to his lips, so it’s easier to understand him compared to others.

“Thank you for understanding,” he seems a bit sheepish, a hand rubbing at the back of his neck. “My sign language is still rusty at best, but the classes are paying off. I can understand you better now.”

At this, you give him a grin. “ I really appreciate you taking those classes. Most people wouldn’t bother.” You sign to him, making sure to move your hands more slowly than usual so he can understand.

“Well, we have to communicate somehow, don’t we? And anyways, it’s an important skill to have,” the brunette brings a closed fist to in front of his mouth momentarily, probably to clear his throat, you surmise. “Moving on…”

Yaga leads you to exit the bathroom, walking out into the small dorm that you currently occupy, unbeknownst to the other students living at the school.

You both sit down on your respective mats laid out on the floor, sitting across from each other with a small coffee table in between the two of you. Normally, you would prepare green tea for yourself and him, but it looks like Yaga has something on his mind, so you let him take the lead. He folds his hands together, resting them on the tabletop before he starts speaking.

“I’d like to have you join the Jujutsu society, officially,” he says. “No more hiding. You’d be training with others, and have an official rank.”

You can’t help the way your jaw drops quickly, eyes widening. Immediately, your hands start to move frantically as you lean over the coffee table excitedly.

“ Seriously?! You’re not joking??? I could be out there again? But what about the higher-ups?! You know Gakuganji hates my guts! ”

Yaga lets a small smile grace his usually stoic face at your excitement, though he quickly gets nervous, as the speed at which you sign is not something he’s used to. Who knew someone could ramble so efficiently with sign language? “Hold your horses – first off, he doesn’t hate you, he’s just a traditionalist. A spirit working amongst us, no less a cursed one, is probably the highest form of blasphemy for him. I’m surprised he hasn’t had a heart attack already, truthfully.”

You sit back on your mat, huffing out longingly, lazily tilting your head side to side as you slump over and pout. “ He acts as if I murdered his entire family. ”

Yaga says nothing to that, simply nodding along. “As I said, it’s nothing personal… the higher-ups weren’t happy with my proposal, but I can’t keep you locked in here. You’ve proven yourself time and time again that I can trust you. It’s due time that you discover our world properly.”

You bristle at that, back straightening. Similar words were spoken to you decades ago, hiding a sinister truth behind them. Yaga isn’t her, you remind yourself. Things have changed... though not everything. Funnily enough, your body hasn’t aged a day since your creation – constantly stuck in the body of a young adult. However, the things you have seen and experienced are enough to last for a thousand lifetimes.

“I’ve trained you underneath me for some time now, but you should learn to work in a team,” Yaga continues. “I have very promising students this year, you’ll be a good match for them.”

“ They won’t take kindly to me being a cursed spirit, ” you frown. “ I’m not entirely sure that’s a good idea.”

“We won’t know until we try, will we?” He raises an eyebrow in question, which you return mockingly. “Don’t give me that. You’ve always been an optimist, prove yourself to me.”

You sigh dramatically. “ Lots of pressure you’re putting on me, old man…” You lay your head on the coffee table, eyes still on Yaga’s lips to read them properly.

“Run that by me again?” The teacher asks, and suddenly it feels like a heavy weight has appeared in the room. You immediately sit up straight, eyes growing the size of saucers as you grin nervously.

“ I mean, you look as young as ever!” You shake your hands out in front of yourself defensively, sweating profusely. “ You haven’t aged since I’ve known you!”

“...That’s what I thought.” You breathe out in relief.

“ So when would I be meeting your students? ”

“I was hoping for our first class of the day today. It’d be good to get you involved as soon as possible,” Yaga says.

His timing is reasonable – today is the first day back to school after summer break, so it’d make sense for you to be introduced then, instead of halfway through a random semester. It would feel invasive if he did otherwise. The prospect of being introduced to a class that already knows each other well makes you a bit nervous, but the excitement to meet new people and no longer having to hide your presence overshadows your anxiety.

You take a look at the digital clock on your nightstand, seeing it is approximately twenty minutes before class starts.

“We should get going, then,” Yaga states as he follows your eyes to the time, tapping the table with his pointer finger to get your attention. Your head snaps to the teacher’s fingers, who points behind him to the door of your dorm with his thumb.

You both get up, and you quickly dust off your dark brown cargo pants before you follow behind Yaga, the familiar feeling of the knob locking signaling that you closed up your door properly. You make your way down the hallways of the dormitory, stepping outside to walk along campus towards the school itself.

It’s a beautiful morning; the sun shines brightly, only a few clouds can be seen in the light blue sky. Birds fly back and forth between the trees, and you are sure that they must be chirping (a noise that Yaga had tried - and failed - to explain to you, but at least you know what the word is). The day still holds a bit of the overnight chill, though it’ll soon dissipate into the oppressive heat that summer usually holds as it ends.

You step into the school, and you make your way to Yaga’s classroom, sliding the door open. The wooden desks with white tabletops are holding up stacked chairs, and on Yaga’s desk sits a pencil holder and sharpener with a chunky laptop placed on top of a few stacked papers.

You tap the man’s shoulder, grabbing his attention.

“ I see you went all-out with your decorations, ” you joke.

“Ha ha ,” and you know that’s a sarcastic laugh because Yaga’s eyebrow twitches like it usually does when there’s sarcasm laced in his tone. “There’s only three of them, plus my two first-years. It feels ridiculous to have a classroom of this size for just a few brats. Take a seat, one of them should be here shortly.”

You obediently take a seat at one of the desks in the middle at the very front, plopping yourself in the chair and leaning back to make room to rest your legs on the top of the desk, crossing one over the other. At least in this seat, you’ll be able to read Yaga’s lips with little to no issue.

“ One? ” You sign with a simple motion, raising an eyebrow questionably.

“Yeah, the two others are always late no matter what.” Yaga seems exasperated as he says it, rolling his eyes, followed by his fingers coming up to pinch the bridge of his nose as if a headache is already forming when class hasn’t even started yet. Then, Yaga signs a word that you are incredibly familiar with. “ Morons. ”

That makes you laugh without a sound. “ Are you even allowed to say that about your own students? ”

The teacher nods his head fervently, and it’s enough to tell you all you need to know about the people you’ll be introduced to shortly. Speaking of which, you take a look up at the clock on the wall above the chalkboard. Oh, they should be here right about…

You notice movement in the corner of your eye, and someone takes a step through the doorway and into the classroom.

…Now.

A girl with dark brown hair cut in a bob holds a pack of cigarettes in her hand, doing a poor job of concealing it in front of her teacher. Her bangs are swept to the left, and it looks like the length of it is annoying her, as she blows air to get some loose strands out of her eyes. She dons a long-sleeved shirt in Jujutsu High’s typical dark blue colour with a skirt to match it, black tights underneath and brown sandals on her feet. The features that stand out the most to you is the mole right underneath her right eye, accompanied by the tired look in her chocolate brown eyes.

She fusses with the pack of cigarettes, trying to slip it into a pocket of her skirt, and is discussing something back and forth with Yaga, completely oblivious to the other presence in the room until he jabs a finger in your direction.

“...Oh,” you read on her lips. “Sorry, didn’t see you there.”

You wave back politely, signing good morning to her with a smile on your face. She tilts her head in question, not understanding the movements you did with your hands.

“ Ohh. ” The girl drags the word out. She brings her right hand up to her forehead, pinching her thumb and forefinger to make something similar to an ‘OK’ sign, hand tilting sideways, then flattens out her hand vertically and brings it down. ‘ I’m sorry’ in sign language. “I don’t know much sign… besides ‘sorry’ and ‘thank you’,” she says as she turns to her teacher.

You’re surprised that she knows how to say sorry in sign language in the first place, and it makes your grin stretch even wider. It’s still something.

“They’re very good at reading lips, if it’s any consolation. I’ve been learning for the past few months but I’m still a novice,” Yaga tells the girl before he rummages through a drawer in his desk. He pulls out an empty notebook and then takes one of the pens in his pencil holder, handing it to the girl. “You should introduce yourself.”

You try to take a peek at the notebook, sitting upright as the brunette hunches over, writing away. Finally, she turns the paper to you, letting you read it properly.

- My name is Ieri Shoko, sorry I don’t know or understand JSL.

You stick your left hand out, right one pointing to the pen in her hand. She hands it to you wordlessly, moving to stand over your shoulder and look down as you write away.

- Nice to meet you, Shoko!

You write down your name on the paper to introduce yourself, leaning your head over so she can read it before you continue again.

- It’s okay. I’m fine with reading lips or writing in this notebook. I’m completely deaf and mute, so if it’s not too much trouble, face me when you’re talking or else I won’t understand you. I apologize.

Shoko waves her hand around nonchalantly, as if saying it’s no problem. She grabs the pen from you to write again.

- No need to apologize. I’m sure we’ll get along just fine.

You smile at her, and she sends you a lazy one of her own in return, setting the pen down on the desk.

“Where are those two runts?” Yaga looks towards the doorway, waiting for the rest of his students.

“Probably setting the microwave on fire, I think it’s a biweekly ritual of theirs,” Shoko says as she grabs a seat at the desk to your right. “Either that or terrorizing the staff again.”

Yaga mumbles incoherently to himself, rubbing his temples, annoyed. “I swear…”

A movement out of the corner of your eye catches his attention. Shoko is writing something down again, making sure that you can see the notepad.

- What happened to your nose?

You cringe slightly to himself, brows furrowing in annoyance.

- Bad run in with a curse.

“Literally,” Yaga makes sure to mention to her. “They ran into a wall while chasing it down.”

You wave your hands back and forth, as if trying to cut him off while glaring at the man. She doesn’t need to know that! All dignity is thrown out the window when you realize Shoko is chuckling. It’s so over, you slump back into your chair, dramatically sighing.

There’s a thumping that vibrates the floorboards on the other side of the doorway. Multiple, actually. Curious, you look over to your right and through the windows of the classroom, seeing two figures blur as they run down the hallway and rush into Yaga’s room.

Two men stand there, both wiping sweat off of their foreheads as they catch their breath.

The first that catches your eye has black hair tied back into a bun, letting his bangs stay loose on the left side of his face. His eyes are dark brown, and he has black gauges pierced in his ears. He’s tall and slim, but you can tell that his arms are muscled underneath the long-sleeved uniform shirt. He wears extremely baggy pants and dark black sandals.

The other has stunning pure white hair that sticks up at random angles – he obviously doesn’t care too much to brush his hair in the mornings – and he wears a black hoodie with the hood flipped up, covering most of his head. His eyes are an electric blue, almost seemingly glowing. He wears the school’s uniform pants with expensive-looking shoes. He looks a little taller than the other one by a couple of inches, too.

“Sorry we’re late…” The dark-haired one says after catching his breath. The other seems to have his gaze locked onto you, slapping his friend’s arm to grab his attention and pointing to the new addition in the class. Uncomfortable at the intense eye contact, you avert your gaze to his friend’s earrings.

There’s a certain indescribable aura that emanates from the mysterious stranger sitting at the desk, setting off warning bells in both of the boys’ minds. They take a defensive stance, ready to attack at any moment.

“There’s no mistaking that…” The black-haired guy mumbles, fists raised.

“It must be a cursed spirit.” The other one finishes.

Shoko seems surprised, but doesn’t make a move to make any distance between her and you.

“Calm down, you two,” Yaga steps forward slightly. “They’re joining you.”

“Huh? What do you mean?” The white-haired one asks.

“This is your new teammate, or your babysitter, depending on how you look at it, Gojo,” Yaga answers. You presume Gojo is the one with the striking blue eyes.

You quickly grab the notebook in front of you, holding it up so they can read the introduction you wrote to Shoko a minute prior.

The two friends look at each other, apprehensive. Obviously, they aren’t too keen on you being in their proximity, which is exactly what you feared in the first place. You can’t blame them for their initial reaction, though it didn’t make it hurt any less.

“Are you being for real?” Gojo asks his teacher. “This thing is joining us?”

“That thing can read your lips. It’s a complicated story,” he says. “It’d take too long to explain. However, I can assure you that they’re perfectly safe. They’re not a curse.”

A pen being thrown in their general direction grabs their attention, the three men’s gazes trailing to you, holding your notebook up again.

- Don’t talk about me as if I’m not in the same room as you.

Yaga signs an apology, but Gojo crosses his arms and frowns at you.

“So what, you’re joining us on missions and training?” He asks.

“That’s the idea,” Yaga says. “So play nice. That goes to you too,” he says your name.

Your point to yourself, pouting. “ Such offensive accusations. I’m an angel. ”

“Huh? What’d they say?” The black-haired one tilts his head in confusion.

“They’re a bit of a trickster as well, been a pain in my ass for the past few years. Not unlike you three…” the teacher pauses for a moment. “ Goddamn , I just realized – introducing you all to each other is probably the worst thing I could’ve done to myself.”

“Don’t get too ahead of yourself, now…” Gojo mumbles before looking dead-ahead at you and addressing you. “Satoru Gojo.”

Despite his attitude, you move your hands together to sign ‘ Nice to meet you. ’ His last name seems familiar, but you can’t quite place why. The lack of recognition in your mismatched eyes must be obvious to the white-haired man, who’s eyebrows raise at the lack of reaction.

“You know, like the Six Eyes? The Gojo Clan ?” He points to himself to drive his point home.

The mention of Six Eyes rings a bell, but for some reason it still doesn’t click. You shake your head, shrugging, then pointing to the dark-haired man standing next to Gojo.

“I’m Suguru Geto,” he introduces himself simply, shoving his hands in the pockets of his pants. “...You’re completely deaf?”

You nod, quickly writing down in the notebook.

- Can’t hear a single thing.

“Shit, that sucks.” Gojo says.

“Gojo, have some decorum, idiot,” Geto hisses to his friend, slapping the back of his head, though it has zero effect on him.

“My bad,” The white-haired man half-heartedly apologizes. “You’re the one who asked in the first place.”

“Can you take your hood off, Gojo?” Yaga gets the student’s attention.

“But sensei , my head hurts again…” he complains, pulling the hood down even further to cover his eyes completely. “Everything’s so bright today.”

“I’m guessing that’s why you were late. As usual. ”

You tilt your head, taking the pen off of your desk and scribbling down in the notebook again. Shoko leans over to read what you’re writing, and Suguru, noticing her behaviour, does the same.

- Does he have migraines often?

Suguru nods in reply. “Yeah, pretty much every other day.”

You hiss through your teeth, mouthing ‘ ouch’ and doing a thumbs-down, making Shoko chuckle lightly.

“Anyways,” Yaga speaks to the entire group as Gojo sits on top of the desk to the left of you, “I’d like you three to take today easy and get acquainted with them. Since this is your first day back to school, I’d like for you to train for an hour. Following the next few days, we’ll get onto a regular schedule.”

“We don’t need a babysitter, sensei,” Gojo pouts at his teacher. “We’re fine on our own.”

“This isn’t just for you, Gojo. This is also for them,” he looks over at you. “They need to learn how things work around here so they don't get into more trouble.”

“ Ooooh, is someone in cahoots with the higher-ups?” This time, he directs the question to you. You make a so-so motion with your hands, shrugging at the same time.

- Something like that? You write down in the notebook, giving an awkward tight-lipped smile.

“Seems like you might fit in with us, in the end.”

Silence stretches out for a few moments before Yaga breaks it by clapping his hands together once.

“Well then, I’ll leave you to get to your training. After that, do what you want,” he says before he turns to you. “ Notebook O-K?” He signs.

You nod in reply, giving him a thumbs up. With that, the teacher exits the classroom after tucking his laptop and loose papers underneath his arm, waving goodbye to your small group.

A poke to your shoulder takes your focus away from your only friend to these strangers. Shoko gives you a lazy grin, pointing at you, then your notebook and pen.

“So, what’re you good with?” She asks.

- Polearms, or my fists. What do you use?

“Ah, actually, she uses a scalpel. Shoko’s refining her Reverse Cursed Technique,” Gojo butts in.

“I could’ve answered that myself, thank you very much, ” she hisses at him, though seeing the small grin on her face, you can tell that there is no actual bite to her words.

Then, you point to the two men standing to your left, as if to ask what about you two ?

There’s a small pause before Gojo breaks out into a shit-eating grin, and both Geto and Shoko shake their heads exasperatedly.

“ Well , I’m glad you asked,” he says as he lowers the hood of his hoodie, completely uncovering his head as he splays his arms out as if he’s performing in front of a crowd. “See, I’m the strongest . I have both the Limitless and Six Eyes.”

The look on his face is full of pride, a hint of mischief flashing in his blue eyes for the split second that you make eye contact with him. You give him another blank stare like a few minutes before, making the white-haired man clench his jaw and shove his face into his hands, irritated. By the look on Geto and Shoko’s face, he’s complaining about that, as they start laughing.

“See, I already like you. You’re actually funny, unlike these two,” Shoko turns to address them. “You guys might have your panties in a twist, but them and I will be best friends,” she says, drawing a small smiley face and a star next to you and her’s names written in the notebook. “Right?” She asks as she looks at you.

You tilt your head to the side, then smile, nodding along. You point to yourself, then to her before clasping both of your hands together tightly and making a small circling movement with your clasped hands.

“What does that one mean?” She asks goodnaturedly.

- Can we be friends? You jot down on the paper.

The brunette repeats the motion slowly, mumbling the words to herself as if it’ll help her remember more easily. “Like that?”

You nod, the smile never leaving your face at the small interaction.

“Sweet!” She exclaims. “You’ll have to teach me more eventually, it’d be cool to communicate properly with you.”

“ I’d be happy to, ” you nod again before you turn to Geto, pointing at him again.

“Oh, right,” he says, mostly to himself. “I manipulate curses.”

Immediately, your jaw drops before you give the raven-haired man two thumbs up. “ That’s sick!” You sign, impressed, eyebrows raised.

“Oh come on, that’s hardly fair! Barely a blink of an eye to my insane powers, and now they’re shitting bricks over Suguru’s ability! This is crazy glazing,” Gojo whines, draping himself over the top of your desk dramatically.

Geto gives him a full-body laugh. “I guess I’m just cooler than you, Satoru.”

“This hardly feels fair. C’mon, I’m sick of this room. Let’s go to the training grounds!” He thumbs in the door’s direction.

Your group gathers their things before making your way outside, not crossing by a single other staff member or student. You can tell how deadly quiet it is on the campus of the school, even without your hearing – there’s a certain lack of energy. You recall Yaga mentioning that jujutsu sorcerers were far and few between nowadays, which explains the few number of students attending.

Now that you’re all walking next to each other, you notice how much taller the two men are compared to yourself. Shoko’s around the same height as you, but Geto is nearly an entire head taller than you, and Gojo is even taller than Geto. You feel short compared to the two of them, and it annoys you.

The weather is still nice by the time you arrive at the training grounds, however the heat is starting to make itself known, making you cringe. You’ve never been good with the warmth that accompanies summer, usually only having a certain amount of energy before you’re knocked out for the rest of the day. You won’t be impressing any of your new acquaintances (and friend ?) today, that’s for sure… not that you wanted to, in the first place. Better to keep your power under wraps for now, especially with the heatwave. Stick to normal physical attacks instead.

You can feel the dry dirt crunch underneath your beat up black – mostly brown, now – converse shoes. You mentally note to not make the wrong move, or else you’ll roll your ankle on the dirt.

There’s a small shack nearby the training grounds, and Geto opens it to reveal an entire array of weapons. There’s a long wooden polearm hanging on the wall; precisely what you need. You grab it, weighing it in the palm of your hands. It’s much lighter than what you usually use, so you’ll have to adjust a bit to that.

You take a quick glance at Geto, who’s doing stretches on the grassy part of the field, and then your eyes drift to Gojo, who stands there watching his friend, hands in his pockets. Isn’t he at least going to pick up a weapon or something?

The latter must feel your attention focused on him, because his gaze snaps up to meet your own. You nervously divert your eyes, looking down at Gojo’s nose and lips instead in case he begins to talk.

“Something on your mind?” He asks you.

Multiple things, actually… you think to yourself. Setting your wooden polearm on the ground, you grab the notebook and pen you brought with yourself and scribble down a few words before turning it around to face him.

- Aren’t you gonna grab something too?

It seems that there’s always a stupid grin smeared across Gojo’s face that you can never wipe off. This time, instead of a dramatic display, he just crosses his arms and shakes his head.

“You’ll see.”

There’s an undeniable curiosity that itches at the back of your mind, so you decide to put the notebook down and pick the polearm up again, making your way closer to Gojo. You tilt your head, raising an eyebrow with a lighthearted smile playing upon your lips.

Well, what are you waiting for?

The white-haired man immediately pulls his hood down, an aura of confidence surrounding him. There’s not a single twitch of his finger or furrow of his brow that gives a hint to any anxiety – he has complete faith in himself and his abilities. Gojo spreads his arms out like he did earlier, as if to make himself an easier target than he already was.

You aren't stupid; you know that your opponent has something up his sleeve, so you have to be careful with your opening moves. You need Gojo to give away what his techniques are without getting caught in the middle of it. Thankfully, this is just a training exercise, so it’s not serious if you get a scratch or two; Gojo wouldn’t go all out, after all, so you wouldn’t either.

With that reassurance, you make the first move. You take a quick step to the right, so swiftly that the air whips around you, the grass where you once stood ruffling angrily from the sudden movement. Gojo immediately reacts; he tries to put more distance between the two of you, not quite expecting the speed at which his opponent moves, but not entirely surprised either.

Another step forward, and you’re suddenly behind him, raising your staff and bringing it down to whack him with it. However, before your weapon can touch Gojo, it gets caught mid-air by an invisible force. Furrowing your brows, you try to put more force behind the blow, but there’s still some sort of force field surrounding him. There’s no way you can land a single scratch on him with this ability activated.

Suddenly, the polearm splits in half, sending shards of wood everywhere around the two of you. Gojo turns around, about to take his turn to attack, but your reaction time is faster, right foot immediately pressing down on the ground below you, sending you flying backwards to put enough distance between you both and landing on your feet.

Your polearm lays pathetically broken on the ground next to Gojo, who continues to smirk at you, completely relaxed as he tugs his hood over his head again.

Even though you had barely done any physical exertion, you already feel sweat form on your brow. You sit down on the grass, leaning back on your hands, feeling the earth refresh your bare palms for a few seconds.

“ What was that? ” you ask him, hands moving quickly as the curiosity continues to eat away at you.

“That was Infinity,” Gojo says, deciding to sit across from you on the grass. For a split second, you look up, and his eyes look less bright than before; it might have something to do with activating his ability, you think. “It’s a work in progress, but I’m basically untouchable with this.”

Shoko walks up to the pair of you, Geto following close behind with your notebook and pen in hand. Grateful, you sign your thanks to him and take them from him, writing some more.

- That’s impressive!! :D You’ll have to tell me more about your Limitless and Six Eyes, I’m curious to learn more.

“Why, so you can take over and kill us all?” Gojo asks, ignoring the flare of pride in his chest at your interest – he knows he can’t trust you that easily.

You level him with a deadpan stare, raising your eyebrows, completely unimpressed.

- Obviously. While I’m at it, I’ll burn the whole world too.

“ See! ” Gojo hisses, pointing an accusatory finger at you. “I knew Yaga’s must’ve been sun-downing when he introduced us to a freaking cursed spirit to add to our team.”

You make a ‘cuckoo’ sign, rolling your eyes and trying not to take the male’s words to heart. He’s just speaking that way because he doesn’t know the entire story – not that he should, honestly – and has only been taught to exorcise curses.

- Jokes aside, I promise not to lay a finger on a single precious hair of yours. As Yaga said, it’s complicated when it comes to me. I’d appreciate it if you keep an open mind. I’d get killed in a split second by the higher ups if I even thought of that, anyways :/

“Seriously, they haven't done anything to show that they’re aggressive,” Shoko comes to your defense, though you find it hard to read her lips as your eyes unfocus; you can’t help but think that maybe Gojo isn’t completely wrong to have that mindset.

“But what if one day they are? Not that it would be a problem for me to exorcise them, but c’mon now. It’s a threat to have them around.”

“Satoru, I think we can trust sensei with this. If he says that they’re trustworthy, then they probably are. He’s a good judge of character,” Geto says next. He isn’t entirely convinced that you’re harmless, but Gojo is being rather harsh with his words.

He huffs, annoyed that both his friends are on your side. “Don’t come crying to me when they finally snap.”

“ I’m not a curse ,” you sign even though none of them know sign language. “ You wouldn’t be exorcising me. You’d be killing me. ”

Tired from this back and forth, you get up, brushing your pants off and grabbing the notebook, tucking it underneath your arm.

“Wait, where’re you going?” Shoko asks.

You point back to the dormitories, shrugging. There’s no point in you sticking around right now if this is going to be the team’s dynamic.

“Don’t go, Satoru promises to behave himself,” Geto says while pinching Gojo’s ear. “Right, Gojo?”

“Fine, fine! Jeez, I’ll stop.” He shakes himself out of his friend’s grip, soothing his now-swollen ear. “Did you have to yank it that hard, Geto ?”

“Seems to be the only way to get you to behave, so yes.”

Shoko claps her hands, satisfied. “Perfect. Let’s go downtown to grab something to cool off, hm?”

A refreshing drink doesn’t sound like a bad idea, you muse to yourself. After a moment, you nod in agreement, making the brunette smile widely at you.

The subway is packed with people; afternoon rush hour is no joke on these trains. Shoko is uncomfortably pressed up against the windows of the doors, Geto is stuck between two people chatting away on two different business calls, you’re desperately clinging onto the railing attached to the ceiling and trying not to lose your footing as you sway back and forth, squished in between the crowd, fingers brushing against the metal pole as your arms aren’t long enough to reach it properly… and Gojo sits happily in the one free seat that was left in the compartment, sitting right behind you.

He’s looking down at his flip phone, obviously amused at something as his body wracks with laughter. He looks up, feeling a hint of murderous intent in the air, making eye contact with Shoko, who’s current glare held towards him could kill someone. The white-haired man smiles innocently at her, sending a lighthearted wave and mouthing something – Having fun over there?

She flips him off in reply.

Meanwhile, you and Geto share equally uncomfortable glances with each other, neither of you being able to breathe properly in this sea of people. Your view is suddenly obstructed by a tall man with bright orange hair, a large suitcase in his hand. His mouth moves quickly, too quickly for you to read his lips properly. Not only that, but you’re pretty sure that this man isn’t even speaking Japanese.

Oh, a tourist… This isn’t good.

Nervously, trying to keep his legs steady, you lower your hands from the too-tall ceiling railing, your left pointer finger pointing to your ear, then making an ‘X’ with your hands. Can’t hear, you mouth, shaking your head back and forth.

Not understanding, the stranger tilts his head to the side, obviously confused, trying his hand again at communicating with you.

What’s this guy not getting? Damn, Shoko has my notebook in her bag and she’s stuck in the corner across from me…

You repeat the motion but it falls on deaf ears – or eyes, in this case.

The man is starting to get irritated, lips downturned, but then his eyes widen at the same time as you feel a hand on your shoulder, making you jolt. Looking back over your shoulder, you’re surprised to see Gojo standing up, starting to talk to the tourist with an easy smile spread across his face. You’re even more surprised to see that Gojo is speaking an entirely different language, seeing as you can’t understand the way his lips are moving, unable to place a single word compared to what you’re familiar with.

The warmth of Gojo’s hand resting on your bare shoulder makes you uncomfortable, but you can’t exactly shake him off when you’re stuck in between this many people.

Looking back up, the conversation seems to flow easily between the two men, and by the next stop, the stranger steps off the train, lugging his heavy suitcase behind him.

Hesitantly, you turn around to sign a thank you to Gojo, surprised he would’ve gone out of his way to take over the situation when he holds an obvious distaste towards you. The white-haired man waves you off lazily, sitting back down in his seat and flipping his phone open again, completely disregarding you.

A few stops later, and the four of you shove your way through the train to get off. Each of you takes a deep breath of fresh air, relieved to finally get out of that cramped space.

“It smelled musty in there, oh my god,” Shoko complains, taking a quick peek in her tote bag to make sure that everything she brought with her was left untouched. Cigarettes and lighter, check , wallet, check , phone, check, your notebook and pen, check .

“What did that guy want, by the way?” Geto asks Gojo. “He seemed pretty intent on bothering you,” he looks at you as he speaks, “I just couldn’t get through my two entrepreneurs to help out.”

“He wanted to know where the museum was located,” Gojo replies. “I gave him the wrong directions.”

You choke on your spit, quietly snickering to yourself while coughing a bit, signing another thank you.

“It’s not that serious,” Gojo waves you off again before he starts laughing. “Anyways, look at this hilarious picture I got of you trying to struggle to grab the railing!”

The man turns his phone screen to face you, showing off a semi-blurry picture of you, your fingertips brushing against the railing while on your tip-toes, a determined look on your face (that made you look a bit constipated, if you were being honest with yourself).

I’m either going to kill myself, you think to yourself as you glare at Gojo, who continues to cackle, or I’m going to kill him.

“...” Shoko finds it hard to stop the grin from spreading across her face, turning to her friend. “Send me that.”

He sends her a thumbs up, and immediately Shoko hears a ping coming from her phone that sits at the bottom of the totebag.

“You guys are jerks, y’know that?” Geto asks, somehow the voice of reason between the three of them. “C’mon,” he says your name, “let’s ditch these two and go get bubble tea or something.”

You immediately go to walk next to the raven-haired man, sticking your tongue out at Shoko who gives you an offended look. Even though you had only met her this morning, you felt comfortable enough joking around with her. It was a nice change of pace for once, having only known the glares of the higher-ups for the past few years.

Shoko and Gojo immediately catch up to the two of you, your group walking down the bustling streets of Tokyo, the afternoon sun beating down on everyone. The heat is oppressive, and you find yourself thankful there’s only a few more weeks of this kind of weather before it starts to cool off.

You all look at the different shops and restaurants, Shoko focusing on a run-down corner store.

“After we get our drinks, I’m gonna stop here and pick up some more cigarettes,” she tells you. “I’m running low.”

“That’s gonna develop into a problem,” Geto says.

“As if it isn’t already?” Gojo asks rhetorically.

“Don’t blame me, blame the principal for making me do all this shit for my reverse technique.”

You find a nearby boba tea shop that’s relatively empty – most cafes are bustling with students who are in-between classes. It’s a comfortable little shop; there are small plants littering the shelves all around, a few people are already occupying some tables at the back, which leaves the table at the front right next to the window free. Shoko immediately claims it, dumping her bag on one of the two seats closest to the window.

Gojo and Geto are already at the counter, ordering their own drinks, but you hang back awkwardly, looking back and forth between the menu and the brunette next to you.

“What’s up?” She looks over at you, noticing how tense you look.

You point at all the different drink options before shrugging; I have no clue what to pick. Unbeknownst to his group, you’ve never had boba tea before and have absolutely no idea what it tastes like, or what flavour you should be getting.

“Ohhh, I think I get it,” Shoko says, pulling out her wallet from the tote bag. “Want me to order you something?”

You nod in reply, handing her some pocket change to pay for your own drink.

“I gotcha. Stay with our stuff, I’ll go order.”

You sign your thanks, taking the seat across from her so you can people-watch in the meantime. Many businessmen frantically walk by, rushing to get to their next meetings while balancing phones next to their ears, meanwhile a mother gives a piggie-back to her young kid, both smiling and laughing. Couples hold hands, one sharing ice cream between each other and whispering inside jokes in each other’s ears. You picture how their voices must sound – are their tones different when they speak to each other? You can’t picture the specific sounds in your mind, but you imagine that there’s a difference in pitch when someone talks to the people they like, they dislike, their coworkers, customers and more. It makes you long for something you haven't known in centuries. You wonder what your new acquaintances sound like, what you sound like. You’ve forgotten your own voice.

A flick to the forehead brings you out of your reverie. Shoko sits across from you, two drinks in hand that look exactly the same.

“I got you what I usually get, I hope that’s okay,” she tells you, handing you one of the drinks. There are small black blobs at the bottom of the creamy-looking substance. You observe the way Shoko pierces the plastic top of the cup with the thick straw, imitating her, careful not to pierce the cup itself. Immediately, you smell vanilla and coffee with a hint of something else.

Tentatively, you take a sip and the taste of caramel touches the tip of your tongue. It tastes delicious .

Gojo sits next to Shoko, Geto taking the seat next to you. His drink looks more fruity, with swirls of orange with whipped cream on top – he doesn’t have the black boba at the bottom, though. Gojo’s is a light blue, and he seems to have taken extra boba.

Geto taps his pointer finger on the table, grabbing your attention.

“Ever had this before?” He asks. You shake your head, and immediately flinch backwards when Gojo slams his hands down on the table and leans over it, a look of horror on his face.

“Has Yaga been starving you?! He’s been hiding this from you the entire time?? I think this counts as a form of abuse!”

“Oh my god, Satoru, quiet down - there are other people in the shop,” the raven-haired man clenches his jaw, giving a look to his friend across from him.

“But this is tragic!”

You huff, a small smile playing on your lips as you happily take another sip from the drink, your left leg swinging back and forth as you get lost in the taste.

“Do you like it?” Shoko grins at you.

You nod enthusiastically, giving her two thumbs up.

Suddenly, another drink is pushed towards you. It’s Gojo’s blue drink.

“Try mine,” he insists, inching it closer to you.

All three lean on the table, curious as to what you will think of it. You look at them awkwardly, hesitantly grabbing the cup, and take a cautious sip. Your eyebrows immediately shoot up at how sweet it tastes – the coconut slush tastes delicious though, especially the coconut jelly that is mixed in with the drink.

“Sooooo…?” Gojo awaits a reply.

You look over at Shoko’s bag, pointing to it. She catches on quickly, handing you the notebook and pen.

- It’s soo good and rich :D but super sweet

“Yeah, this guy has an addiction,” Geto says, handing you his drink next. “I’m curious as to what you think of mine.”

Gojo grabs his drink again, pouting as he takes a big sip from the straw. “At least they appreciate my taste in drinks, unlike you guys.”

Ignoring his pouting, you take a sip from Geto’s drink, catching yourself before you can hum at the taste. Passionfruit and mango – your favourite – hits your taste buds. You also taste crushed biscuits with the whipped cream. You close your eyes, content.

“I’m guessing that was good,” you read upon Geto’s lips when you open your eyes again.

- I really like mango, so that’s an instant winner.

“HA! Suck it, Satoru,” he mocks his friend, smiling ear from ear.

“When and where?” He instantly says in rebuttal, barely taking an eye off his drink, making you slap a hand over your mouth as you cough over another laugh.

“Not in front of my drink, guys,” Shoko whines as you try to take sips of your drink to cover up your amusement. “Now I definitely need a smoke.”

After finishing your drinks and disposing of them in the trash, you make your way back to the corner store the brunette wanted to stop at earlier.

“You guys can wait out here if you want, I’ll be quick.”

The three of you stand outside, Geto and Gojo talking amongst themselves while you peer into the window of the store. The sunlight shines directly into it, hitting the sunglasses display. Curious, you look more closely, an idea suddenly popping into your head as you notice something.

When Gojo looks back to where you once stood, he notices that you’re missing, instead hearing the sound of the bell of the front door to the store opening, then closing.

You step inside, making your way to the rack of sunglasses, looking at a specific pair of round ones. They look nearly completely blacked out, and just for fun, you try them on – sure enough, you can barely see a thing with these on. Is this even legal? You think to yourself for a moment, but…

It might make for a good peace offering. A helping hand in return for a helping hand, equivalent exchange, isn’t that what they all say?

Looking at the price tag, they’re not necessarily cheap sunglasses, but you can afford it with the money that Yaga has given you as an allowance. You nearly scoff – you , needing an allowance ? How ridiculous is that?

You walk up to the cashier, lost in thought as you pay the worker absentmindedly. Hopefully this will work, or else you’ll look like an idiot.

Not a moment later, you step outside again, a pair of round sunglasses in your left hand, notebook in your right.

“What’s that for?” Gojo approaches you, eyes trained on the object.

You point to him, holding the sunglasses out in the palm of your other hand.

“Uh, okay…?” He feels the need to take the pair from your expecting hand, and decides to put them on. Suddenly, it’s not overwhelmingly bright outside – colours stop melding together in the corner of his eyes to make him dizzy, and he feels the constant headache gnawing at his forehead and the bridge of his nose slowly dissipate, tuning into his Six Eyes to see instead. The overload of information he was so used to is suddenly dulled, and the persistent feeling of overstimulation is gone.

- Sunglasses could help with your migraines. Saw these ones and thought it would be good.

Sure enough, you were right. He lowers his hood, the headache nearly non-existent by this point.

“Whaddya know, it actually worked.” Gojo says as he looks around. He’s able to feel Geto and Shoko’s energies, as well as your rotten cursed aura, and the hundreds of people walking down the streets or driving their cars.

“Good idea,” Geto says your name as he walks up to you both, smiling. “Not sure why resident boy-genius didn’t think of that sooner, honestly.”

Just as Gojo is about to insult him in return, Shoko walks out with a new pack of cigarettes in hand.

“Alright, I’m ready to head back. I need a nap,” she yawns as she speaks… which makes Gojo yawn, then Geto, then in turn, you.

You nod in agreement, feeling your crappy mattress call out to you.

By the time you return, the sun is just starting to set a bit, pinks starting to creep through the blue sky. You all go their separate ways once you return to the dormitories, and you immediately faceplant into your bed, barely making it in time to take off your shoes before you crash.

As you turn your head to look at the calendar right next to your bed, smushing your cheek into your pillow, you think back to the day that you’ve had today. Meeting new people and talking to someone besides Yaga was riveting, even if it didn’t all go according to plan (you frown as you think back to Gojo’s attitude), but you definitely got somewhere. By the end of the hangout at the boba shop, there was a lighter air surrounding the four of you. You feel something burning in your chest, something you think you’ve never felt before.

Maybe…

Maybe things won’t be so bad, in the end.

#jujutsu kaisen x reader #gojo satoru x reader #geto suguru x reader #gojo satoru x y/n #gojo satoru x you #geto suguru x you #geto suguru x y/n #jjk x reader #cross posted on ao3

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crystallizsch · 8 days

Note

Hello Ian! ♡

Here's a Jamiyuu fic for you! I apologize if it's not the best, I wrote it in like ten minutes since I'm currently at work lol

(Also I apologize if the formatting ends up messed up, as I'm sending this using Tumblr mobile!)

I hope you enjoy! ♡

The fireworks lit up the sky as everyone stood there watching. It was a gorgeous sight, laughter filling the air as color burst into the night. Jamil turns to Yuusha, the smile on his face falling as he froze. Her face was as bright as the fireworks, eyes shining as she looked towards the sky. She held Grim in her arms, the cat shaped monster watching the scene in awe.

Yuusha turned to Jamil after a moment, feeling his gaze. One of her brow's rose as she looked at his face, amused, "What?"

Jamil stood there, his gaze never wavering as a small smile comes to his face.

"It's beautiful, isn't it?"

Yuusha looks back towards the sky as another firework bursts into the night.

"It really is"

Jamil's eyes remain glued to Yuusha for a moment before he turns back to the sky, standing a little bit closer.

You really are beautiful, Jamil thinks, Najma watching them a few feet away.

She couldn't resist getting a bit closer, waiting until she was right next to him before nudging him in his side, giving him a knowing look.

He does his best to ignore her, nudging her back as she laughs, his face heating up.

Maybe next time, he'll tell Yuusha what he thinks. For now though, he'll just stand there and watch ♡

Thank you! ♡

HREHDBBDJSFJ I AM CRYING GIGGLING KICKING MY FEET IN THE AIR

THE PINING THE SOFT DIALOGUE

I AM NOT OKAY

AND NAJMA PLS - KNOCK SOME SENSE INTO YOUR BROTHER -

anyways i've actually had been imagining scenarios for the scalding sands event and hghsdfksdkljrk

this one in particular is just going to live rent free in my head for a bit they're so gdsfhlksd

THANK YOU FOR THIS I LOVE THIS AND I LOVE THEM SO MUCH😭😭😭💖💖💖

#literally woke up this is the first thing i see 😭#first knee jerk reaction was to doodle it #and it's been in my head all morning I'm so hlsdfhfd #thank you sheep 🥺🥺💕💕#[—#✦'-asks #(💜) yuusha #(💜) jamiyuu #twst oc x canon #twst yuu #jamil viper #twst #twisted wonderland #al'ab nariya #☆'-other's-writing #★'-my-art #—]

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britcision · 1 year

Text

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: 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:

Tag List: @welcometosasakiworld @kyrianclawraith @someonebored0100 @stealingyourbones @starkcravingmad @frostedthroughghost @akikkobara @rainbowbunny0159 @littlefeather345 @violet-catsarelife @serasvictoria02 @wolfjackle @blacksea21090 @secretdestinywerewolf @anime-hipster-the-amazing @undead-essence @skitscratched @blackroserelina @snoodly-boop @trickerdi @mayoota-blog @xysidhe @idkmrpianoman @little-apricot-the-writer @chaoticmistake @the-legal-shipper @bun-fish @aroranorth-west @demon-cat-goes-woof @perfectwastelandcreation @onyxlightdragon @larks-and-katydids @peachesandcreamfemboy @jesus-camp-the-sequel @may-rbi @mothman-the-mothman87 @viyatrix @stargirl1331 @idfk-man10 @thedepressedrobin @skulld3mort-1fan @rootsmudge @ravenshadow17 @cankoking @phantom-dc @mentalcarebear @magic-pincushion @redamancyardor @lyra689 @itsparadoxlacuna @alcorbearson @asphyxia778

#dp x dc #danny fenton dead and loving it #dead on main ship #jason x danny #danny x jason #one fine day in the middle of the night #still no smooches here tho #just bat angst and softness #chapter 13 #unlucky 13 cuz i forget the number exists

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johnslittlespoon · 23 days

Text

i was so excited to listen to glass animal's new song 'creatures in heaven' today and instead my heart has been ripped out because it's so awfully painfully fitting for our mota boys (i'm currently making an angsty heartache–y edit to it lol whoops) BUCKLE UP because i need to yell (and keep scrolling if lyric analysis/song fics aren't your thing <3)

also tumblr keeps screwing with the formatting ignore that pls lol

What do you think about when you think about love? I'm dumbstruck when you're tender, but It's three in the morning, be in the moment It tears through my head, does it haunt you too?

i mean, the imagery. pillow talk, sneaking off base before dawn, vulnerability and raw honesty laying side by side in a field, looking up at the stars and wondering which ones are the people they've lost looking down at them, every peaceful, happy moment laced with the knowledge that so many friends will never get to have another one.

You held me like my mother made me just for you You held me so close that I broke in two

fuck my life. dave bayley count your days. these lines are just so viscerally painful and stunning? john feeling like every core of his being was made to fit gale, like puzzle pieces slotting together, the gaps in his life filled the moment gale enters his orbit. both of them never having experienced being treated so gently and with so much reverence, feeling taken apart and put back together in each other's arms.

You pass through my head, does it haunt you too? Never really said that I loved you, too

heavy on the angst here because this reads like post–war john pov, filled with regrets but plastering on a smile as he watches gale marry someone who isn't him, aching to tell him how he feels but knowing it will only make a mess of things. and more than anything, he wants gale to be happy, and if that means staying quiet and loving him at arm's length, he can do that. but late at night he can't help but wonder if gale ever thinks about what could've been, if all the moments they shared haunt him too.

Lucky, lucky you, 'cause I'm fortune's fool Such small words but they hit so huge

this reminded me of gale's father and his gambling and how despite everything he falls in love with john, a gambling man. such small words (don't count on it) but they mean everything :(

I don't think I realize Just how much I miss you sometimes We were young and so in love

this hurts on SO MANY LEVELS. i immediately read this as curtbucky– john never gets time to grieve, everyone just has to keep trucking on. but sometimes late at night it hits him so hard he feels like he's drowning, realizing how empty of a space curt's left, how much he truly loved him, the first person to make him feel that way.

but also can be read as buckbucky, both of them properly feeling the emptiness of not being by each other's sides for the first time before they reunite at the stalag, maybe both having a feelings–realization moment when they're hit with how wrong everything feels when they're apart.

or, post–war, john aching for gale and wishing on everything that he can just fall out of love. he knew that it would be hard, going back home and going their separate ways, even with the promise to stay in contact, but it's so much harder than he ever could have imagined.

Three in the morning, safe inside Bury me here in your laundry pile

ouch ouch ouch. a few images: john seeking out one of gale's worn shirts after his plane goes down, falling asleep with it pressed to his chest in his bed. or john stealing one of gale's shirts before they all go back home post–war, shoving it to the bottom of his suitcase, sleeping with it every night despite the way his stomach turns, feeling hollowed out as the smell of him slowly fades away. or, john staying at gale and marge's house for the wedding, having a breakdown the night after, finding himself on the floor of their laundry room at three am, curling up in a pile of dirty laundry just to feel close to gale one last time before he goes home in the morning.

I don't see the point in a subtle romance Ten tonne heartache sitting on your back

john is so all or nothing with love; when he's in, he's in, barrelling full speed ahead, giving it all up for his person. maybe the secrecy when they first start seeing each other is okay at first, little midnight rendezvous, but he craves more, he wants a future with gale so badly, he wants a house and a wedding and kids and a dog and sitting side by side on a porch at eighty years old. but he knows that gale is giving him all that he can right now, and it's better than nothing, so even though he wants so much more, he'll settle.

Scared of the crack where the light comes through I'm only really me when I'm here with you

ughhh both of them being so scared to be really seen by someone that it's terrifying how quickly they grow close. that nauseating feeling you get right after opening up to someone for the first time, the feeling of holding your breath waiting for rejection– but it never comes. they accept each other with open arms and patience and unconditional love and they show each other what it's like to be able to be so fully unapologetically real with someone for the first time. a shell of themselves when they aren't together, like they're missing one half, and it's so obvious that everyone around can see it. they share the same name for a reason.

And it gets into your head like a cosmic zoom Coat on the door like an old space suit So long cowboy, you're so cool Cash in hand with a memory of you

okay, ngl this just made me think of john ditching his coat that gale hates– even in the heat of going up on a mission, it's still in his head, enough to go through the motion of swapping it out. so long cowboy just sounds like something sweet he and curt would've said to each other honestly; thinking about john saying it again when he looks up at the stars the night he finds out curt didn't make it.

cash in hand with a memory of you? come onnn it's literally the lucky deuce. may as well have just slapped that bit of the song behind the scene of gale going through his belongings when he makes it back to base, picking up the cash and thinking about his man. </3

–anyway! apologies for the word–vomit, sometimes i just get a song wedged into the front of my skull and i am paralyzed from doing anything else until i get my thoughts out about it. and it's truly such a gorgeous song, 10/10 recommend if you feel like crying, been listening to these guys for a decade now and they never disappoint.

literally gonna agonize over making an edit for this for hours to get the vision just right and would not be surprised if i end up writing a oneshot inspired by it lol i adore every song they've put out but this one just gripped me so strongly the moment i pulled up the lyrics with how perfectly it slotted into the mota–verse. <33

#i don't even know how to tag this #curtbucky and buckbucky pain ig lol #johnslittlespoon brainrot #this is so funny literally no one cares i just needed to get this out of my system #thank you and fuck you glass animals for another stunning song #also i was looking at the album tracklist and one of the songs is called 'how i learned to love the bomb' watch that give me brainrot too #july nineteenth will be my last day on this earth methinks #johnslittlespoon musicrot

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momentsofhyuka · 1 year

Text

make this feel like home

!!! tumblr mobile messed up the formatting of this version for me so please check the final work out HERE !!! ty <3

summary:

Sure you and Yeonjun had always been sort of a package deal. You became friends at a young age, attended all the same schools, and now attended the same college. It had been great coming into college with a best friend already and you easily found a friend group you both got along with.

You never expected said friend group to insinuate that Yeonjun could possibly like you. It just didn’t make sense.

or: your classic oblivious childhood best friends to lovers

genre: childhood friends to lovers, angst with a happy ending, misunderstandings, oblivious, college

warnings: angst, curse words, crying, party setting, drinking, throwing up, misunderstandings

notes: first post kinda nervous … anyways hope at least one person enjoys this !! Let me know what you think <3

———————————————————————

Choi Yeonjun has always reminded you of home. Growing up as neighbors you had become fast friends, something that had never changed. Here you were years later, still best friends with him, as you both attended the latest party on campus.

You were never much of a partier, preferring to hang out with friends somewhere you could actually hold a conversation without screaming. Yeonjun on the other hand had quickly taken to the party scene your first year in college and still liked to go even now in your senior year.

The few parties you went to were after weeks of begging from Yeonjun to go with him. You don’t know why he even bothered to ask you so much, he knew you could never say no to him.

That’s how you found yourself crammed on a shitty couch with some of your friends, waiting for Yeonjun to come back with your drinks, on what could have been a peaceful Friday night spent catching up on your favorite show. You sighed trying to get a little more comfortable on the couch smiling back at Kai’s apologetic grimace.

“I would say i’m surprised you’re here, but Yeonjun has been looking forward to this party for way too long. I knew he’d convince you to come,” started Taehyun motioning towards you. The others murmured their agreements at the statement. Seems like the whole world knew just how wrapped around his finger Yeonjun has you.

“It’s easier to come to these things than to deal with his constant whining,” you attempted to defend yourself, not sure why you suddenly felt a little offended. They hadn’t really said anything that wasn’t true.

Sensing the change in your mood the others tried to steer the conversation away but Soobin didn’t get the hint.

“I mean let’s be honest, if you gave him a firm no he would cancel everything and go spend time with you anyways,” Soobin reasoned in an attempt to even out the statements from earlier.

You laughed, giving a small “Yeah right,” in response and were surprised to be met with dumbfounded stares. Suddenly they were all more engaged in this conversation than before.

“He’s not kidding. Yeonjun would literally do anything you asked it’s kind of funny to watch him following you around like a puppy,” continued Beomgyu, the rest of the guys all nodding in agreement.

“A love sick puppy,” added Kai, giggling into his cup. Taehyun roughly elbowed him hissing what sounded like a “shut up, idiot.”

You simply continued to stare at them in confusion.

You never expected said friend group to insinuate that Yeonjun could possibly like you. It just didn’t make sense.

All your life it’s always been you and Yeonjun as the duo, one never really without the other. With this, however, always came the assumption that you had a major crush on Yeonjun or something. Some people had even gone as far as to insinuate that Yeonjun put up with you because he was nice or that he took pity on you. In most peoples heads, it was always you following the bright star that was Yeonjun who was always just slightly out of your orbit.

(Yeonjun and the guys were not big fans of these people, constantly defending you much to your embarassment.)

This is why the guys statements caught you so off guard. In your time as friends you had never heard the opposite. Yeonjun chasing after you? Yeonjun doing whatever you asked? Yeonjun having a crush on you?

It simply wasn’t conceivable. You knew you and Yeonjun were equals in the friendship despite what so many thought but you also knew it was never anything more than friendship.

Settled by this train of thought you decided that they had to be joking or trying to prank you, and gave another awkward laugh. “That’s funny. You always hear people saying I like him not the other way around. Good one guys,” you continued trying to show them that whatever it is they were trying to accomplish was not working.

You watched as they glanced at each other in disbelief. Scanning the room briefly and concluding that Yeonjun was still in the kitchen somewhere, Soobin risked continuing the conversation. “We really aren’t kidding. Look we probably shouldn’t be telling you this but it’s kind of tiring watching you both dance around the obvious feelings there,” he replied, no hint of humor on his face.

You sputtered a bit and tried to defend yourself against these claims. All the times anyone had ever even hinted at you liking Yeonjun had ended with the guys rushing to your defense, yet here they were saying the exact same thing. Not only that, but they were adding a new layer of Yeonjun liking you back.

“C’mon, you’re like one of the most perceptive people I know. I could’ve sworn you knew he liked you and just didn’t know what to do about it. He’s the oblivious one,” Taehyun cut your weak defense off with.

“Yeah, he’s always being dramatic wondering if ‘he’s fated to watch you end up with someone else and be stuck loving you forever’ or some sappy shit like that,” tacked on Beomgyu doing a poor impression of Yeonjuns voice.

“Love?!” you finally got out having been unable to even give a response through your sheer shock.

Beomgyu’s eyes widened in realization of what he said but before anyone could chime in and correct the situation Yeonjun finally came back, drinks in hand.

You felt yourself blushing and mentally cursed the guys for putting any of these thoughts into your head. You had come to terms a long, long time ago that you and Yeonjun would always be best friends. You were okay with that. You beat back any non-platonic feelings that had crept up and eventually got so good at it, that you didn’t even have to worry about liking him.

Because you totally didn’t. No way. Doesn’t matter what the guys say they’re definitely wrong.

Despite this you still found yourself thinking about what they had just said.

Aside from you, they did know Yeonjun best and if there’s something he wasn’t telling you, (like the fact he apparently is harboring a huge crush on you), he would definitely tell one if not all of them. You paused at this thought, suppressing a gasp.

What if they were really telling the truth?

You didn’t have anymore time to linger on this because Yeonjun was suddenly right in front of you, offering you the drink he had made for you (because he had your favorite drink memorized). Totally something best friends do. Right?

To say you were freaking out was an understatement, and you could tell the guys definitely knew by their guilty glances at you.

“Sorry I took so long! I ran into Wooyoung on the way there and we got caught up talking,” Yeonjun announced to the group, unaware of what had just happened.

You gave a weak thanks as you accepted the cup, suddenly hyper aware of all your interactions with him. Not to mention you now felt like you were being watched by the guys.

“So, what did I miss?” questioned Yeonjun causing Kai to give a nervous laugh and Beomgyu to respond with “Nothing!” too quickly.

Way to be subtle.

“Oh so I definitely missed something good. You’ll tell me right?” he teasingly answered, turning to face you with a questioning look. You locked eyes with Taehyun who’s face of horror was likely mirroring your own.

You bravely risked a glance up at Yeonjun noting that he had absolutely no worries that you’d ever not tell him what he missed. He trusted you.

(“He looovess you,” sing-songed your gremlin brain. Didn’t know we were in middle school.)

“Just the guys being stupid like always, nothing actually important,” you finally decided to respond with, surprised at how stable your voice sounded. You had always been comforted by Yeonjuns presence, it’s not very surprising you still would be even when he was currently the root of all your problems.

(“Because you’re in love with him,” that same annoying voice in your head supplied. It sounded suspiciously like Soobin.)

He simply nodded in response giving a small laugh, and you could see the others sighing in relief.

You expected it to be left at that. You would go back to pretending you didn’t like him (because you didn’t !!). You would also now pretend to not know he apparently likes you (because he definitely does not). The guys would grovel for forgiveness from you for the rest of your life. It was a simple plan really. Easy.

Apparently it was not that easy.

“Wait i’m like sooo invested in what you guys were saying,” slurred a voice to your left. The group turned in confusion to the girl standing near the couch, clearly well past her first drink. “So that guy that just came in that’s the one you guys said likes her back, right?,” she continued, pointing shakily at you, unaware of the panicked looks that had now overtaken everyone’s faces.

“So they’re in love and didn’t know or whatever. What happens next? I reallyyy want to know you guys are SO good at telling stories,” she pouted at the group. A stunned silence followed her words. Suddenly she gagged, eyes widening as she rushed over to the bathroom.

There went your plan, destroyed by a case of drinking and eavesdropping.

Frozen in your spot you struggled to figure out what to even do next. Yeonjun wasn’t stupid, there was no saying the girl was too drunk and didn’t know what she was saying, not with everyone’s immediate guilty reactions.

Clearing his throat, he asked, “So, anyone care to tell me what that was all about?” He definitely did not sound happy.

(“He totally sounded embarrassed though,” tried the little voice. Read the room.)

You had never been much of a crier but you suddenly found tears rolling down your face, feeling utterly helpless for once.

You couldn’t believe this is how your friendship with Yeonjun would end.

Suddenly too overwhelmed to continue experiencing this you frantically stood up, desperately wiping your tears away to try and preserve some of your dignity.

“Wait! Where are you going?” Yeonjun called but it was too late you had already taken off, weaving through the crowd to the exit.

You were pretty sure you didn’t have to worry about anyone following you either. Not after that.

You were almost at the door when you felt someone grab your wrist. Stupidly, you let yourself be filled with hope that it was Yeonjun and you had been wrong about him not following you.

It wasn’t. It was the same girl from earlier. She looked worse for wear, having clearly thrown up. “Hey, you have to let me know how that story finishes. I’m rooting for you guys,” she said, not noticing your disheveled state. You laughed weakly and pulled out of her grasp continuing in your earlier path out of here.

You stumbled into the street, jogging in the direction you think your dorm was in. Yeonjun had brought you to the party, and you hadn’t really thought to pay attention to the directions. Tonight wasn’t supposed to end like this.

Suddenly you heard your name being called and looked back to see Yeonjun sprinting towards you. He didn’t look particularly happy or “in love” right now. He honestly looked pretty pissed off.

You guessed this was it. He finally came to his senses after all that and was here to tell you to leave him alone, to forget you were ever friends. You still couldn’t find it in yourself to truly be mad at or blame the guys. They thought they were helping. You could see them running after Yeonjun but while he continued his journey towards you they lingered by the doorway, uneasy looks on their faces.

You hoped he didn’t take this out on them. They were still good friends for him all things considered.

Finally reaching you on the sidewalk, Yeonjun paused to catch his breath and you tried your best to mentally prepare for what he was going to say. Not that you were doing that good of a job, if anything your earlier tears had practically become full on sobs.

“You scared the shit out of me,” started Yeonjun, causing you to look up at him in confusion. “Don’t ever run away like that again please. I know i’m a dancer and all but I am not about to take up running anytime soon,” he wheezed a bit, placing his hand on your shoulder.

You laughed through your tears unsure what you were even supposed to be feeling right now.

“Sorry I was a bit late running after you, I needed to confirm with the guys that I heard that girl right before I made a complete idiot of myself in front of you,” he continued, suddenly seeming more shy and awkward. All you could do was blink up at him.

“I mean I did hear her right according to them. She did say ‘likes her back’ because you like me too right? The guys weren’t messing around with me?” his voice was now shaky and a little desperate as he stared into your glassy eyes.

“What?” was all you could manage in response, not quite sure what exactly was happening right now.

This was apparently not the correct response because it looked like a light suddenly went out in him. His shoulder slumped immediately and he began to backtrack on what he had said.

You cut him off trying to get some clarity on the situation, “Hold on, so you don’t hate me and want to end our friendship right now?”

The look he gave you in response honestly made you feel kind of embarrassed for even asking that.

“What!?! Hate you? I think i’m incapable of hating you. No, I am not about to end our friendship. I’m here wondering if we’ve been in love with each other for our whole lives and have been too stupid and scared to realize or act on it!” he let out, emotions clearly getting to him as his eyes began to water as well.

You gasped and decided to buy time to respond by flinging yourself into his arms. He held you tight immediately, burying his face into your hair. Finally gathering your thoughts, you began to answer him.

“I do love you. I always have. I-I never knew what to do with it, never knew if I could give all that love to you, so I just pretended it wasn’t there. I was happy just to have you in my life I didn’t care how,” you admitted into the safety of his jacket, burning face buried away from his curious eyes.

He pulled back, tilting your chin up, removing you from your hiding spot. He was now crying as well which only served to make you start crying even harder. You were never good at seeing him cry.

“I’m so in love with you it physically hurts. I always thought I would be forever stuck on loving you from a distance but never having you. Now that I know being yours is an option I’m never letting go,” he fiercely responded, shaking you slightly. Cupping his face you let yourself do the one thing you’ve always wanted to. You kissed him.

Cupping his face you let yourself do the one thing you’ve always wanted to. You kissed him. He tasted like home.

Loud cheers suddenly interrupted the moment and you both pulled away startled. The guys were cheering you on. You laughed and buried yourself back into Yeonjuns arms. His embrace felt like home.

Loud cheers interrupted the moment and you both pulled away startled. The guys, who had watched the whole thing unfold, were cheering you on. You laughed burying yourself back into Yeonjuns arms. His embrace felt like home.

Suddenly shy, you buried yourself back into Yeonjuns embrace, laughing.

Loud cheers interrupted the moment and you both pulled away startled. The guys, who had watched the whole thing unfold, were cheering you on. You laughed suddenly shy and buried yourself back in Yeonjuns arms. His embrace felt like home.

Loud cheers interrupted the moment and you both pulled away startled. The guys, who had watched the whole thing unfold, were cheering you on. You laughed suddenly shy, and buried yourself into Yeonjuns arms again. He felt like home.

He held you close. His embrace felt like love and home.

Cupping his face you let yourself do the one thing you’ve always wanted to. You kissed him.

Loud cheers interrupted the moment and you both pulled away startled. The guys, who had watched this all unfold, were cheering you on. You laughed, suddenly shy, and buried yourself back into Yeonjuns arms.

Also laughing, he held you tight. His embrace felt like love and home.

Cupping his face and you allowed yourself to do the one thing you’ve always wanted to do. You kissed him.

Also laughing, he held you close. His embrace felt like love and home.

Loud cheers interrupted the moment, startling the both of you. You both pulled away and looked at the source of the noise to find it was none other than the guys who had watched the whole thing unfold. Suddenly shy you buried yourself back into Yeonjuns arms, laughing.

He was laughing too, but he made sure to hold you tight. His embrace feeling like love and home all at once.

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